The Disowned — Volume 05Lytton, Edward Bulwer Lytton, Baron
General
The Disowned — Volume 05
Lytton, Edward Bulwer Lytton, Baron
English fiction -- 19th century
"Sleep," said he, "sleep on! The wicked do not come to thee now.
Thou art in a world that has no fellowship with this,--a world from
which even happiness is not banished! Nor woe nor pain, nor memory of
the past nor despair of all before thee, make the characters of thy
present state! Thou forestallest the forgetfulness of the grave, and
thy heart concentrates all earth's comfort in one word,--'Oblivion!
'Beautiful, how beautiful thou art even yet! that smile, that
momentary blush, years have not conquered them. They are as when, my
young bride, thou didst lean first upon my bosom, and dream that
sorrow was no more! And I have brought thee unto this! These green
walls make thy bridal chamber, yon fragments of bread thy bridal
board. Well! it is no matter! thou art on thy way to a land where all
things, even a breaking heart, are at rest. I weep not; wherefore
should I weep? Tears are not for the dead, but their survivors. I
would rather see thee drop inch by inch into the grave, and smile as I
beheld it, than save thee for an inheritance of sin. What is there in
this little and sordid life that we should strive to hold it? What in
this dreadful dream that we should fear to wake?"
And Glendower knelt beside his wife, and, despite his words, tears
flowed fast and gushingly down his cheeks; and wearied as he was, he
watched upon her slumbers, till they fell from the eyes to which his
presence was more joyous than the day.
It was a beautiful thing, even in sorrow, to see that couple, whom
want could not debase, nor misfortune, which makes even generosity
selfish, divorce! All that Fate had stripped from the poetry and
graces of life, had not shaken one leaf from the romance of their
green and unwithered affections! They were the very type of love in
its holiest and most enduring shape: their hearts had grown together;
their being had flowed through caves and deserts, and reflected the
storms of an angry Heaven; but its waters had indissolubly mingled
into one! Young, gifted, noble, and devoted, they were worthy victims
of this blighting and bitter world! Their garden was turned into a
wilderness; but, like our first parents, it was hand in hand that
they took their solitary way! Evil beset them, but they swerved not;
the rains and the winds fell upon their unsheltered beads, but they
were not bowed; and through the mazes and briers of this weary life,
their bleeding footsteps strayed not, for they had a clew! The mind
seemed, as it were, to become visible and external as the frame
decayed, and to cover the body with something of its own invulnerable
power; so that whatever should have attacked the mortal and frail
part, fell upon that which, imperishable and divine, resisted and
subdued it!
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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