Christian fiction; Wingfold, Thomas (Fictitious character) -- Fiction
“‘Then my spirit began again to revive within me, and I said, Lo! I have
yet many years of her love ere she dieth, and when she is gone, I shall
yet have the memory of my beloved to be with me, and cheer me, and bear
me up, for I may never again despise that which she hath loved as she
hath loved me. And yet again a thought smote me, and it was as an arrow
of the lightning, and its barb was the truth: But she will grow old, it
said, and will wither before thy face, and be as the waning moon in
the heavens. And my heart cried out in an agony. But my will sought to
comfort my heart, and said, Cry not out, for, in spite of old age as in
spite of death, I will love her still. Then something began to writhe
within me, and to hiss out words that gathered themselves unto this
purpose: But she will grow unlovely, and wrinkled, and dark of hue, and
the shape of her body will vanish, and her form be unformed, and her
eyes will grow small and dim, and creep back into her head, and her hair
will fall from her, and she shall be as the unsightly figure of Death
with a skin drawn over his unseemly bones; and the damsel of thy love,
with the round limbs and the flying hair, and the clear eyes out of
which looketh a soul clear as they, will be nowhere--nowhere, for
evermore, for thou wilt not be able to believe that she it is who
standeth before thee: how will it be with thee then? And what mercy
is his who hath sent thee a growing loss in the company of this woman?
Thereupon I rose in the strength of my agony and went forth. And I said
nothing unto my wife, but strode to the foot of the great mountain,
whose entrails were all aglow, and on whose sides grew the palm and the
tree-bread and the nut of milk. And I climbed the mountain, nor once
looked behind me, but climbed to the top. And there for one moment I
stood in the stock-dullness of despair. And beneath me was the great
fiery gulf, outstretched like a red lake skinned over with black ice,
through the cracks wherein shone the blinding fire. Every moment here
and there a great liquid bubbling would break through the crust, and
make a wallowing heap upon the flat, then sink again, leaving an open
red well-pool of fire whence the rays shot up like flame, although flame
there was none. It lay like the back of some huge animal upheaved out of
hell, which was wounded and bled fire.--Now, in the last year of my
long sojourn, life had again, because of the woman that loved me, become
precious unto me, and more than once had I laughed as I caught myself
starting back from some danger in a crowded street, for the thing was
new to me, so utterly had the care of my life fallen into disuse with
me. But now again in my misery I thought no more of danger, but went
stalking and sliding down the slipery slope of the huge fire-cup, and
out upon the lake of molten earth--molten as when first it shot from the
womb of the sun, of whose ardour, through all the millions of years, it
had not yet cooled. And as once St.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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