"And you, source of my deepest joy and my deepest sorrow,--do not fail
me now. Come to me in this darkness; let your spirit haunt this tomb
where I lie buried. In your presence, the evil of my heart shrank
back, rebuked; its good sprang up and grew in life and freshness. You
rose upon me like the sun, warming every noble germ into leaf and
flower. You streamed into my soul, banishing its mists, and gladdening
it to its depths with summer light. These are no girl's tears. Towards
myself and my own woes, I have hardened my heart like the barren
flint. I should be less than man if I did not weep when I think of
you. You must pass the appointed lot; you must fade with time and
sorrow; but to me you will be radiant still with youth and beauty. So
will I bide my hour, anchored on that pure and lofty memory, waiting
that last release when the winged spirit shall laugh at bolts and
dungeon bars."
CHAPTER XL.
Lost liberty and love at once he bore;
His prison pained him much, his passion more.--_Palemon and Arcite_.
Since his illness, Morton had had some of an invalid's privilege. He
had been allowed to walk on the rampart for half an hour daily. In the
distance, a great mountain range bounded the view, and, nearer, the
Croatian forest stretched its dark and wild frontier. The scene
recalled kindred scenes at home; and when he was led back to his cell,
when the heavy door clashed and the bolts grated upon him, he leaned
his forehead on his hand, and stood in fancy again among the mountains
of New England, with all their associations of health, freedom, and
golden hopes. The White Mountains seemed to rise around him like a
living presence, rugged with their rocks and pines, scarred with
avalanches, cinctured with morning mists; and, standing again on the
bank of the Saco, he seemed to feel their breezes and hear the
brawling of their waters. Then his roused fancy took a wider range;
carried him across the Alleghanies and along the Ohio, up the
Mississippi to its source, and downward to the sea, picturing the
whole like the shifting scene of a panorama.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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