Ich habe genossen das irdische Glück;
Ich habe gelebt und geliebt,
Is not half so expressive as the Irish Catullus.
Fond hearts are severed however, if sometimes only for a time. Tom came down one day to the parsonage to take his last farewell. He had bidden adieu to his mother before. Lizzie he wanted to see last of all! She was the girl he left behind him.
It was very sad for the young lovers to part like this, just when they were beginning to know each other.
But perhaps it was for the best. With true love “Absence makes the heart grow fonder,” with the article of dross the reverse proverb holds true. Perhaps as it is preferable to be able to know which is the real Simon Pure: a separation sometimes works well.
There is little good in dwelling on last words.
The parting was only for a time, as Tom fondly told Lizzie, trying to cheer her up.
One long embrace, one last kiss, and Tom was off. The young Dunois had sallied forth for the Orient, and Lizzie wept like Medora at the departure of Conrad the Corsair, thinking, if not exclaiming—
“And is he gone?” On sudden solitude
How oft that question will intrude!
“’Twas but an instant past, and here he stood!
And now” - without the portal’s porch she rush’d,
And then her tears at length in freedom gush’d;
Big, bright, and fast, unknown to her they fell,
And still her lips refused to send “Farewell!”