PS 1654 .E25 Copy 1 ^EfROf-H A I3 Martha Baldwin ^sign LIBRARY OF CONGRESS, ®]^aji. (3ijpjjrig{;t l|a, Shelf... UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. THE BETROTHAL A TO EM BY / MARTHA BALDWIN ENSIGN 35 NEW YORK PUBLISHED BY THE AUTHOR 1890 .^<:? ?sg^J Copyright, 1890, by M. B. ENSIGN. Press of J. J. Little & Co., Aster Place, New York. DEDICATORY. I DEDICATE this Poem, unreservedly, to whosoever herein finds the most of meaning. M. B. Ensign. CONTENTS. PAGE Prolusion 7 Part I it Part II 17 Part III 33 Part IV 41 Part V 59 Conclusion 64 Colophon 69 PROLUSION. Exacting world : Having balanced My accounts all with Thee ; Having o'erpaid Thee (in the coin With which Thou'st dealt with me), I do betake me now from hence, To more congenial Task : I hie me to this sheltered nook — And fling aside the mask Which so transformeth Sons of God, When mouthing with mean men ; I wonder how the Infinite His own can tell again. I would, this vast created World Might once whirl from its course — Infinitesimal small worlds Might upspring, from the source Of its chaotic state : that man In solitude might stand Solely Inhabitant of One, Wide Universe — unscanned His daily goings all by men. Of women, 't might be well To add a solitary She (Unless, indeed, a Hell Her putting should prove finally As did historic Eve's) : Then, it were better man should rove In solitude. Alack ! PROLUSION. Too many Bodies crowd the space To Spirits allotted — Since the creation — and the race Becometh besotted ! Having my vengeance duly sworn Upon all men, for being Born, I thus proceed — the choice to take Of subjects — out of which to make A scene Tragedic. Withstanding the extraordinaire Exordiums, I'm wont to hear From publishers on "genius"; Resisting these heart-felt ? appeals — Beneath which self-int'rest conceals Desire for gains pecunious — I'm bound to quit the noisy crew, Apply my soul to Truth anew, Wheresoe'er I can hear it ; By Voices whisp'ring thro' the air — By streamlet, river, everywjiere — Doth speak me, the Time-Spirit. Infinite One ! Most happy I, My little genius to apply As medium ! Do Thou, then Control the pen — inspire thought; Unclothed by Thy Afflatus naught Beneficent bring I — men. Make me the humble messenger, Unto the Sons of Men to bear News of a glad new morning, Millennial in its Prophecy, When Truth o'er all the world shall be Triumphant as its Dawning ! PROLUSION. Uplift the fallen Sons of Toil— From strife, from sorrow, mean turmoil, And Sin's relentless bondage ; Break but the pond'rous, clanking chains. Fast forged by Error : Let Hell's pains Diminish— claim Thy her'tage ! Control, O Spirit I Guide the stroke ! My pen is Thine ! I Thee invoke ! Speak not in unknown language ; Lest they who otherwise might hear Perceive not truth—" have not an ear " T'interpret— and take umbrage. Love, love's the theme ; and none so low He may not comprehend, I know. This word so sweetly mystic ; The queenly grace of Sov'reignty No higher here, may rise, than she— Her most menial Domestic. THE BETROTHAL PART I. I HAVE written many Poems — now I'll write one of my own ; I have sung of many Heroes — now I'll sing of one alone. I have woven many fancies, and some facts, v/ith poet art — Biographical heart-sketches — now I'll write my own in part. Born within a quiet rect'ry, nourished by a pious pair, Through a strange, fanciful childhood I had passed without a care ; Reached the age of thirteen summers, with nothing of marked event In my life — save a few heart-scars, made by arrows Cupid sent. Then a change came o'er my dreaming ; all my life, till then unplanned, Drifted into Language, Science — authors and their works were scanned. Books of Romance and of Travel — chiefly books of Poesy : Milton — Pollok— Dante — Shakespeare — then I first learned to love thee. How those grand old master-poets touched the fountains of my soul ! How they stirred the floods of feeling — long up-pent— beyond control. 12 THE BETROTHAL. As I live again those moments, when ye opened first to me That vast realm ot Thought, expression fails to render unto thee. O my poets ! O my authors ! all the homage that I feel ! Though long dead, yet ye are living — living in my spirit still ! Having studied 'neath the tut'lage of a wise parental eye, I, at last, to enter college, left the quiet rectory. those days of toilsome labor ! O those problems, knotty, dark ! Must a character be rounded by a round of odious work ? 1 had climbed the Hill of Knowledge until dizzy with the height, And, one hazy June Commencement, reached the summit of the flight. I was one of twenty-seven who had tarried for four years Cramming Horace, Homer, Livy, till surfeited with ideas. Such a medley of book v/isdom as into our minds was stored Socrates might well have envied — Plato could not have ignored. We could calculate eclipses — from astronomical hall : Calculus and analytics — we had quite digested all. Then the chemical department : We had tested all the ways Of precipitating fluids into solids — and could haze Freshmen — cultivate and pony (if the subject chanced to be Mathematics, which, be certain, were abominable to me). College life and college customs — how they linger with me yet. All those mem'ries: some are painful, still I would not those forget. In addition to the subjects I had passed up in — the art Of that oX\\Q.x divine passion — I had mastered it by heart. He my Romeo, was simply Ward Dumond — and yet, — and yet He was no less cavalier to a loyal true Janet. THE BETROTHAL. 13 He had ne'er by word or signal spoken unto me of love, Yet his glances — mute caresses — did a deeper meaning prove. I had marked the swift uplifting of his lids at my approach, Then, as suddenly, their drooping, lest my tho't his own en- croach. Later I had read the meaning which his deepest soul contained. In those eyes, when power of screening it to him no more remained. In that language which, though silent, speaks with truth eloquently To my soul, his own had spoken — had been understood by me. In those moments of deep feeling — then each heart revealed to each What could never have been uttered in weak words of human speech. All the deeper founts of feeling in my life and being stirred, Something in his tone revealing better hopes than mine — his word Roused within my soul ambitions I had never known before — Somehow all the dreams and fancies of my youth returned once more. I enshrined him as the hero of my early high ideals — And I crowned him, too, with honor, which a noble life reveals. Strangely as our ways had blended, stranger yet — they must diverge. All those deep unuttered feelings, how they still within up- surge. Without e'en a word of sadness, which his list'ning ear could tell— With a heart oppressed to madness, calmly uttered I farewell. 14 THE BETROTHAL. For he gave no explanation — save— a hasty telegram Called him unto her whose bridegroom, in a fortnight, he became. Yes, a single word he uttered — as my eyes upturned to his. With a calm as deep and deadly as the grave. That word was this : " Hope, Janet " — for what, I know not. Was it honor which refrained Him from saying — hope that heaven may unite us ? What remained. In a hopeless life, to hope for, I could not, nor can I see Save the hope that death might cover — e'en my pain — in charity. Thus he left me — loved and loving — he was bound now, past control ; "Although vows" — he slowly uttered — "cannot change the human soul ! " Ah ! thou worse than word deceiver, thou hast been untrue to truth ! Thou hast lost one boon forever — thou hast perjured age and youth ! Dost thou think to wed a woman who has ne'er beheld thy heart ? Who responds but to the human — and but claims thy baser part ? Ah ! too well I feel thy spirit hath its holier, deeper need ; Nor will be content — I know it— with a cold, material creed. It were well these things to ponder — is it not a law sublime, He who crushes soul-life under must regret throughout all time ? THE BETROTHAL. 15 Thou hast spoken well in saying — " Vows ne'er change a human soul ; " What exists no mortal weighing — nor analysis control. Neither that which ne'er existed canst thou ever hope to wake In the bosom of another — who might strive — e'en for thy sake. Nor canst thou plead lack of knowledge : When it has become too late 'Twere a weakly want of courage to ascribe all things to Fate. Fate was plastic to thy moulding, thou couldst all or nothing take ; But, remember, v/hen beholding all — 'twas thine the choice to make. When once made, curse not the moment which hath bound thee to thy lot — It were better — having chosen — power of choosing be forgot. Ah ! I fear thou'rt sadly human. Dost thou fancy such low art E'er could prove a panacea to the wounds that hurt the heart .? Bound by such relentless fetters, thou wilt sadly chafe and pine ; Petty cares and sordid passions will insure thy swift decline. Cursed be the fate which severs hearts that know but love and trust ; Cursed be the laws that barter honest gold for common dust ! Ah ! the weary, weary burdens, which the hearts of women bear : 'Tis their fate — in silence waiting Death, to free them from despair. But, who e'er knew Death obedient unto a human behest ? Court this monarch — he refuses to become a welcome guest. Dread him, and, forsooth ! he enters suddenly without delay. Like some uninvited stranger who persists in right of way. 1 6 THE BETROTHAL. Death came not. Another spirit might have yielded to decline ; But I summoned pride, ambition — better be it said of mine : " Here's a heart that loved — and, loving, proved its sacrificial power." I would live for others only — a7id for Art, hence, from this hour. This should be the sacred moment in my life's heart history ; When the Rubicon I ventured — mark a new era for me. PART II. At first I ventured cautiously to wield the author's magic quill ; I wrote that which propriety seemed to dictate me — and still I found no special line of labor which my talents fitted. To journalism— Poesy was all of worth I contributed. I had merely painted pictures, with my paper, ink, and pen — True they were to thought — but lifeless — I must toil and paint again. Then I flung aside the portiere which had screened me hereto- fore, And upon the spotless pages all my inner life did pour. Now my work no more was labor, magic seemed to guide the stroke ; Countless thoughts came into being — if I did but one invoke. All the passion of my childhood — for romance, imagery, Which in discipline and study I had thought quite swept away — Poured its flood-tide now about me — filled me with a sacred awe ; For, within this realm of fancy, characters too real I saw. Though the soul be filled with music, and the heart with melody, Some skilled hand must smite the lyre ere the sweet strains are set free. 1 8 THE BETROTHAL. Mine — the hand of Sorrow's angel had unpityingly swept, And, responsive to her bidding, all its minor tones up-leapt. 'Twas as if some distant pealing of a lonely convent bell Tolled the quiet hour of vesper, and the sisters' woes as w^ell : 'Twas as if some lonely pilgrim, knelt upon a foreign shore, Chanted his death-dirge — then, dying, slept the sleep that wakes no more. Well — the poorest, humblest critic, and the meanest judge of art Can detect an imitation from a poem of the heart. So, altho' with trepidation I had striven to analyze And delineate my heroes — their debut proved a surprise. All the critics now applauded : * This is masterly,' they said ; 'It were long since such great genius to such intellect were M^ed.' Thus, despite all styles and metres which I had profusely read, They had failed — they were but soulless — triith had triumphed in their stead. There are gains for all our losses, as, in truth, one must record That, for all our gains, a seeming loss — tho' greater the reward. If a life obscure in purpose hath no great and rigid claims, Then, as surely, doth another which is open in its aims Find the law of compensation in publicity — nor holds Not an hour, or a moment, which it rightfully controls. What the world giveth unto men, it demands a hundred-fold ; In return for public favor — many a man his birthright sold. Thus within these years of toiling upward toward the temple Fame I had lost my precious hours of solitude — for but a name. THE BETROTHAL, 19 Just a name, which yielded nothing but a round of social life Which, in following, forever seemed a mockery — a strife. But as sunset, warm and mellow, paints sky canvass in the west, After gray, ungilded dawning — so my life sought change and rest; Sought at last its native quiet, in a remote sea-port town : The Hotels were quaint old Mansions ; its one promenade was down To the sea-shore, where the sobbing of the tide's dull, cease- less roll Blended with the sadder moaning and the longing in my soul. It may be a soul turns God-ward when all other resource fails, But it reaches toward the human still, and for the human wails ; May be that the eye Omniscient, pityingly, our grief beholds, Soothes our tired, weary spirits, and our loneliness infolds With a purer, better living, which we fail to understand ; Leads us beside quiet waters — in a calm and peaceful Land ; Gives to us a holier purpose ; fits us for the home above ; Then unto our chastened spirits gives a greater meed of Lo'/e. Scarcely, in this sea-port village, had I anchored fast my bark When a pair of dusty trav'lers came too ; one — no stranger — dark. With fine eyes, deep and expressive — eyes within whose soul- ful depths I had read my fate that morning — ere I heard it from his lips. 20 THE BETROTHAL. She — the other — I had pictured her, mentally, many times, Peerless both in face and person — with a voice like low sweet chimes. Nor had I done over-justice to her portrait ; she was fair : Too fair, one would say, such fickleness upon her face to wear. " He who honestly a rival can adjudge " — I've heard it said — " Hath a great, generous nature " — be he single, be he wed : Be this truly said, or falsely, it is but truth if I say Ward Dumond's wife had no beauty — in an intellectual way. Hers was beauty of the features, of the face, the form — and yet Men who're styled most noble, classic, intellectual, forget Beauty of the Soul's immortal only, and, whene'er they wed. Are quite apt, I've often noted, physical t'admire instead. What a strange chance, this our meeting — what a strange fatality ; Ten long years had passed between us — years passed sadly, silently. I had heard but thrice about him since we went our diverse ways ; Heard he lived a life less useful than I'd thought, in early days, Ward Dumond could be content with : yet I learned, also, that he Was a great light in the city where he dwelt, and socially Much admired for his talents, for his nobleness of soul, Generosity, and kindness, for his charities to all. " Only those are crowned, and sainted " — thus the Poet truly sang— "Who with grief have been acquainted." And this cadence sweetly rang THE BETROTHAL, 21 Through my soul with deeper meaning, since the current of our lives Met again that fateful summer. Ah, alas ! for him who strives To reject the solemn meaning — when, perchance, the moral lies In a bitter soul experience ; who in falsity denies Truth, because its outer wrapping proveth much of bitter sweet : Once fling off this surface-covVing — it exists, sublime, com- plete. Possibly, to outward seeming Ward's life was but common- place ; I, v/ithin his soul, at meeting, something different could trace. In the presence of his Spirit, it were simple to believe Truth itself a thing incarnate. Christ himself could not out- live Somewhat of a fierce temptation — even he was prone to doubt ; But the sin lies not in doubting, so much, as what 'tis about. 'Twere as easily unfolded how the human can uprise Unto its divine endowment — the lost gift of Paradise. If it were some mystic power given me, who knew him well, All his life to thus interpret, I know not : I cannot tell In what language souls communion hold ; they have their own, I know, Which, though speechless, no less potent is ; I've often fancied, though. ^2 THE BETROTHAL. Through his eyes I pierced the deepest precincts of the inner man — Read, howe'er securely guarded, his most secret thought or plan. This strange gift of understanding him, which proved in other years Bond so powerful between us, waked within me some new fears Lest, within our long thought-rambles , we should inadver- tently Make allusion, or some mention, to dang'rous territory. But as by some intuition — uttered not, yet understood — All our talking and discussion drifted into abstract mood. Moods and Tenses, though, may differ widely in their origin: Thus, however much potential were the Mood, the Tense was in Past more frequently than Present. In my spirit I had read Now, with love's quick intuition, all the depth of what he said On that other summer evening. Now I knew what seemed to be A dark riddle, past solution, and mysterious to me ; How his manly sense of honor held him to the vows of youth ; How I had rashly misjudged him — called him false to me, to Truth. Now his words arose before me, lettered in his own heart's blood : " Hope " — O dear and noble spirit ! I am false, and thou art good ! O, I stood in abnegation as my soul recalled that hour ; My philosophies were turning to reproach me with their power. THE BETROTHAL. 23 To a coarse and duller nature, all this longing and fine pain Of a fine organization — this is needless, and in vain ; But to one who's constituted in this over-fatal way. Needs of Soul are much more potent than the needs of coarser clay. Spite of momentary pity, spite of Christian charity, I've at times a deep repulsion toward him who's content to be. To exist — his outer being well insured — to plod along. Never tnore in life desiring, but expecting that ere long Death will change the fundamental laws of his existence, when, After some strange transformation, he shall only live again. delusion worse than hopeless ! O vain form of prophecy ! Death itself will ne'er transform us into what we cannot be. Death, as men call death, I know not — it is but a longer sleep: Though prolonged — it waketh surely, what it sowed in life to reap. After lapse of one month's pleasure, and the waning of one moon Which had sped on flying pinions — which had waned for me too Loon — Through the mail there came a summons from a city Editor, Asking me to fill engagements contracted with him, before Leaving for my summer outing, on condition that he pay Me a sal'ry so increased ; I expected him to say 1 might hold th' engagement cancelled till the season follow- ing. What a fateful — fateful — letter such intelligence to bring ! 24 THE BETROTHAL, YeL 'tis vain 'gainst Fate to murmur ; back of Fate all wisdom stands ; Wisdom and unerring Justice shapes our course, our will demands. By an act of wilful planning I would not have given pain Unto Ward Dumond — t'were better we should never meet again. I would leave an explanation of my going with his wife, Though within my soul was surging all the old love and the strife ; Though they beat within their prison until death had freed them quite, Why should I this love reveal him, — honor plead ? I had no right. Though my heart was loudly pleading for one word — an inter- view — Still, my better angel triumphed ; unto Truth I would be true. Hastily I sent a message to the Editor to say That " to-morrow's sun would find me toward the city on my way." Packing, paying bills, and saying to acquaintances adieu Occupied but a few hours. One thing still I would — must do. So I strolled out in the village ; then along down to the shore, Where I might, one final hour, all my summer joys live o'er. It was in the early twilight, ere the lamps of night were lit : Shadowy forms, and phantom faces, through my memory would flit. As I sat still, gazing seaward, one of these from out the mist Slow approached me ; it was living — it was Ward. O Fa- talist 1 THE BETROTHAL. 25 Ye are not so wild in dreaming that the soul-life is all planned, Neither are ye in opinion solitary ; who e'er scanned, In his acts, the inverse ratio which has followed him betimes Without feeling — yea, concluding — stranger things than e'er in rhymes Or romances have been written — opposite his name are set ? Some inevitable, strange current bears him onward to his fate? " Ah ! my dreamer ; thus I find you, weaving some fanciful tale, I suspect, to charm your readers. Can you not your Gods unveil "E'en before they reach the level of plebeian auditors ? Though, Janet, I must admit that none of all your fine ideas " I have read would be in danger of descending in their flight. Rather, you up-bear your readers, with your pen — unto your height — " Unto spiritual vision, I myself have felt the touch Of your transcendentalisms in my soul — though overmuch — " Mingling with the social maelstrom into which I have been thrust Renders the divine afflatus gold and pearls cast into dust." " You mistake — I am not forming out of letters Gods or 'ism j I was saying to the Ocean my farewell — tho' not in rhythm. " I must leave to-morrow morning ; news compels me sud- denly ; Through the mail I had intended my adieus to you to say, 2 6 THE BETROTHAL. "For lack of time to visit you." "For — lack — of — time," he repeated. "Lack of time to v'vsAiyou, then," somewhat hurriedly, I said. I could see this cruel arrow, with its sharp and piercing dart. Had gone straight into the fibre of his proud, sensitive heart. There it quivered for a moment ; then, ignoring it, he spoke : " So you came down to the sea-shore, your farewells here to invoke. "I forgive you the omission, since you said them unto one That I love : Janet, the Ocean — seems to me — and I — are one. " I have fancied, if my boyhood had been lived beside the sea — For the Ocean seems a Spirit, living, throbbing, unto me — "I have fancied that my living would not all have been in vain ; Lulled by its low, mystic murmur, I'd have been a better man. " Often, in my hours of waking, when afar from its low roar, I have fancied it and listened — as I listen now — on shore." Drifting in this dang'rous channel, naturally, unawares We were both, ere long, repeating, each to each, his hopes and fears. " Then you leave thus soon ! Why must you ? " And I hur- riedly explained How this only >^(2^-engagement imperatively its claims Pressed — compelled, that I should yield it recognition ; that, in fact, It was late for alteration, as my wardrobe was all packed. " Well, Jane ! you have found your mission ; mine, I fear, I never have : I could envy you the pleasure such a noble life must give.'' THE BETROTHAL. 27 "What ! a world of ease and travel — such a charming, hand- some wife ! And you envy me the pleasure of my solitary life ? "Ah ! you mock me! 'Tis but lately I have learned the full extent Of what even ease, or luxury, to a human being meant." " But your genius ! You have striven all your talents to im- prove ; More than praise of men, your conscience must your life wholly approve. " Am I weak in soul, I wonder, that T have no higher aims Than those which a social edict from its helpless victim claims ? " I had hoped within the battle-field of life to do my part ; Yet I seem a knightless soldier, weak in spirit, faint of heart.'' "Ward, you wrong your better nature; men who wed with social power Seldom are as little wanting — character as you, this hour. " In nobility of purpose, in true grandeur of the soul, I am sure you have not faltered : One may not attain the whole " At a single stroke. Be grateful for your nature fine and strong — Live your Present well, your Future will completed be, ere long." "Oh! my ideals ever mounted heavenward, higher than the stars ; This I count my fault — and, chiefly, this is what my life most mars. "I have set my standards truly — so beyond what I attain, That the present, with its meaning — howe'er broad — seems useless, vain." 26 THE BETROTHAL. " Nay ; say not so. You are judging wrongly, Ward ; one's best ideals Oftenest become the climax of attainment. He who feels " His unfitness must quite surely nearest to his standard be, And the proof of exaltation is a right humility." " This may all be true," he answered, " but I somehow seem to live In the /lusl' of my existence, having greater gifts to give ; " Gifts to which these petty hoardings of the purse seem meagre, small — Gifts of Soil/, somewhat eternal. Of these, I've no need at all." "Give these back unto the Giver who bestows them unto thee. Give, dear friend ; this will enrich you, if you but give gen'rously." " Ah ! you strike it now in earnest, the key-7iote of discontent ; 'Tis of this I wish to tell you — you can help my faith, Janet ! " " Help your faith ! You surely cannot doubt the Great, the Infinite — O my friend ! Do not encourage Doubt, it will ingulf you quite." " I had thought myself impervious to agnosticism — still, When these mysteries press upon me, they out-bafiie my weak will. " How can I know whether causes are sitpreine or absolute? How, with thought, accept these mysteries which I cannot solve — refute ? " I do not reproach my Maker — but I do not understand ; Just because others assert /l^r/i-, they'll not my belief command. "With my own outreaching spirit I must positively know That which is — or is not — whether all these things be thus or so,*' THE BETROTHAL, 29 " Ward, I cannot help your doubting ; if you thus to me appeal, I can only plead acceptance of the great truths which I feel. "Of this mystery of being — how the soul inhabiteth Tenement of clay — I know not, yet I feel there is no death. " Do you doubt that I am present ? Would you, tho' you could not see ? Will you not to me acknowledge, facts which act most potently " Are not always demonstrated syllogistically — must To the soul appeal most deeply ? This, it seems to me, is just. " If it were not all so ordered, think you how unequally These best gifts would be divided, if but intellectually. " Each one has within a Spirit which must recognize a God Who supreme is — and a swerving from his plan of rectitude. "Given, a race, by disobedience — unto death henceforth con- demned, Is it not just supposition that a God might e'en remand "This most dread, deserved sentence — thro' his boundless sympathy Might devise a scheme for saving wretched, lost humanity ? " Now to me the Incarnation, which a stumbling-block doth prove, Is a most natural sequence — evidence of God's great love : " What if you, of some dear being — friend, or child, you loved — should ask (And who was to you subservient) an impossible, hard task ; " If he failed to do your bidding — would you — could you have the heart Him to banish from your presence — evermore bid him depart '^. 30 THE BETROTHAL. " Nay ; I know it would be like you, Ward, to ask yourself with care : 'Have I not imposed a burden beyond human power to bear ?' " Would you not, under a seeming mask of cold, hard cruelty, Test a plan yourself, thus proving 'twere a possibility ? *' This it seems to me the mission of the Christ — to humanly Test if what a God imposed so impossible could be. " Finding, in His unique Person, power sufficient from on high. He agains commands His subjects — ' Be ye perfect, as am I ! ' "Can you not accept this logic ? Ward, I verily believe That this straight and simple reasoning means to us, accept and live, "Or discard and be condemned, throughout all Eternity. O dear friend ! doubt not, for, doubting, you may seal your destiny. "Seems to me an All-wise Being must foreknow man's des- tiny." " This the problem which is baffling and unsolvable to me : " If He speaks to you so plainly, unmistakably — why, then, Could not He to me have spoken ? Surely I in need have been." " Ward, He does speak — e'en is speaking at this moment : will not you Hear His voice — the Spirit's pleading — to your better self be true ? " " Well, I own your words have moved me ; may be that you reason, too. Truly. Of this I'm uncertain ; but still, as it comes from you, " It will aid me : such an earnest, honest, and sincere appeal Must upbuild my faith — because, Jane — of — the — friendship which I feel THE BETROTHAL. 3 1 *• For you. Take this little symbol — through the world — as you shall go. Jane — your friendship — has a meaning — deeper than you eer can know / "Let me — give you — this in token of what you have been to me : Take the gift — I v^rong none living, when I offer it to thee. " 'Tis a gift I had not thought me e'er to offer you, and yet I have carried it for years — since we parted. Jane, forget, " If you can, my scepticism ; I am certain God has sent You to me because He careth, henceforth, how my steps are bent. "Though the current of our future lives may ever drift apart, Know, dear friend, that you are living in my mem'ry — that a heart " Which has suffered long in silence will more bravely bear its part In the heat of Life's great battle because you have given him "Courage, strength; for this our meeting has a benediction been ; Jane — farewell — may all God's blessings crown you till we meet again." Ward had gone ! I still was standing where we stood, striv- ing to ope A small locket : on the inner case was graven one word — '' Hoper " Hope " upon my inner being had been graven since the day When he turned, and left me lonely ; 'twas our mystic word to-day. And beside its sacred meaning he another word had placed : Friendship, which in burning letters — tho' invisible — I traced 32 THE BETROTHAL. On the never-fading tablet of my soul. Effaceable They could never be ; but, deathless as the soul, they live there still. Night unfurled her sable curtain o'er the earth, and from afar Looped it with a crescent moonbeam, pinned it with a single star. Shoreward now the tides were rolling, and the voices of the sea Sobbed and throbbed, and made their moaning for our severed destiny. PART III. Chajige — that Sov'reign of our Being, monarch of our uni- verse — All our deeds records in silence — be they better, be they worse. Destinies of Thrones and Empires swing upon its fatal hinge ; Abject pauperisms meekly, tremblingly, before it cringe. But oblivious to its record, heedless most of Destinies, He who scales the vast empyrean of his possibilities. Poet-souls, in silent rapture, sit aloft in that far realm Where the atmosphere is surcharged with the minstrelsy of heaven. High and still above the turmoil which uplifts from clam'rous war, Calm, with equipoise of spirit, in benignity they are : From the depths of soul-despairing, from a dark, moonless midnight They have mounted heights of vision which eclipse all former sight. Unto them reticent Nature hath its mystic song up-flung ; Forest, streamlet, ocean, river, chant the strains which they have sung. List they silently the echoes — faintly, but reverb'rant here Chant, in awe, the deathless measures none but Poet-souls e'er hear. 34 THE BETROTHAL. Laurel-crowned by the Afflatus — in-breathing Divinity ; At the source of Truth, of Greatness — what to them is Destiny ? Swiftly, silently, the cycles, in successive annual tread, Were recorded, gathered, garnered into sheaves of years in- stead. But their solemn evolutions stirred within no heart regret ; In a life of thought — of action — it were easy to forget. What if all the pangs of Memory linger deep within the Soul : They uplift to better Being — unify a perfect whole. Sorrow hath its holy uses — as defeat its victories ; Mental throes give birth to Spirit Life — as the material does. Having once attained existence, wrought out through great mental pain, Scarcely would a son o' the Infinite, son of Adam be again. From the heights of spirit vision, greater Truths they then command ; Broader view they take, and deeper mysteries can understand. Often, in these years of living — as I had not known to live In those days of strife and battle — e'er I could all Truth receive, How I longed t'impart the teachings I had gathered unto him Whose outreaching, earth-bound spirit, strove with problems baffling, dim. "Knock, to you it shall be opened," said the Word which I had read ; Whether " knocking " — persevering — unto Truth Ward had been led : This, the wonder oft repeated, by my soul concerning his. Weak the Truths which I had given — in comparison with these THE BETROTHAL. 35 Which to me had been unfolded by the Spirit of all Truth ; There was ope'd a vaster meaning than I'd known within my youth. But of Ward there came no knowledge, save that "to a far- off land He had journeyed " — with the woman unto whom he gave his hand In the bond of matrimony. She a mother had become — Her declining health compelled him, for her sake, to leave their home : This was all, for seven summers, all of him I ever heard. Marvel not that strong emotion heaved v/ithin my soul when word Came to me — in his handwriting (known of old full well by me) " He from Italy was coming back again — and 77ig to see. " When the home-bound steamer landed, I might look for him," he said, " Feeling sure this boon of coming I would not have him denied. " Jane " — he held his hand out toward me — and involuntarily I placed mine within his — then withdrew it as quickly. " Jane — then you received my letter, and were pleased to hear from me ? " " Certainly " — I slow responded — " but your wife ; pray, where is slie ? " " Then you had not learned ? The voyage proved more than her strength could bear. When out in mid-sea she died ; and — in the sea we buried her — 36 THE BETROTHAL. " 'Neath the waves of that old Ocean which, you know, was dear to me : I had less regret in giving her — because of it — to th' sea." "And your child" — with some confusion — I ventured at last to say, "Surely /le is yet still living?" "Yes, the child and nurse still stay " In the sunny clime of Italy, where I've passed these last three years Since the burial of its mother ; Jane, to you the hopes and fears, "Longings, failures, aspirations of my years I come at last To unfold. You've helped me bravely in the trials of the past: " Can you not, with gifted vision, once again to me unfold Vexing problems in my history — their solution— as of old ? " I am not worthy the honor of your least, your slightest gift, Yet I feel your soul has power to your level mine to lift. "She who bore my name requested, ere she died, that I be true To my Soul — explain what purpose drifted me at first from you / "I shall say, in her own language, that which I'm about to tell. (Judge not harshly — 'twas but human of her, and she loved me well : f " As she could love ; though 'twas certain hers was not unself- ish love, Else she would have given freedom unto me this love to prove.) " 'Tell Jane all ; and tell the story of your being bound to me — Ere you left your home for college I had pledge your bride to be. THE BETROTHAL. 37 " ' Do not spare me in what followed ' "—here Ward faltered, tremulously : " By what right did I to others give that which belonged to thee ? " How could I have known, in boyhood, fascinated by a face Beautiful in outward semblance— of your life, its richness, grace ? " Yet I could do naught but love you— altho' may God pardon me, ; For your presence seemed to point me ever toward Divinity ! " Jane, I struggled with the passion which outmastered my strong will ; But in vain — I loved you madly always — and I love you still / " If I vainly sought for comfort in companionship with one Who could not my life interpret wholly, as you would have done, " Will you not forgive the weakness when I tell you truly, now, I have ne'er done you injustice by a single thought or vow ? " All the deep needs of my Being you, and only you, could give ; By these gifts, howsoe'er meagre and alone, by these I live. " But, at times, a weight of sadness would my spirit so oppress, I was maddened by the mem'ry of brief hours of happiness. "You have wronged me if, in fancy, you have thought I could forget You / Your life was interwoven with my better self. Janet, " I could not have separated you ; your Personality Seemed somehow to be included in viy Individuality." " There were times. Ward, when I struggled these dark ways to understand ; Even now, it seems less honor to bestow but just the hand 3 8 THE BETROTHAL. " Unto one who truly loved you, when within your soul you knew She was not the high Ideal preconceived, beloved by you. " Were it not a cheat to barter half on^s faith for loving trust ? To bestow duplicity — as one necessarily must — " One who weds (as you confess me her who bore your name you wed) ? I would sooner live and suffer as I've lived — sooner be dead. " You could not have given justice unto her to whom 'twas due, If you wedded — as I now fear, Ward — you wedded her : Un- true " Unto her, you must have proven, tho' I ne'er again can doubt You were striving to do justice — albeit love was counted out." " With your womanly perception, and your tender sympathy, You have sought the whole circumfrence to encompass. This I see. "While this question I would gladly spare the mem'ry of the dead. Yet — as you still with insistence do compel me — Jane, she said : " 'Tell her the whole truth, spare nothing ; tell her how I have blighted Your life from its early morning, by insisting that you wed " ' Me, after the whole confession of mature love you had made For a woman you so worshipped— at her feet your soul you'd laid "'I was far too proud and selfish, then, to bid you go, be free ; Just because you were so noble and had bound yourself to me. " ' I regret my selfish action ; tell her this, as I confess, Ere I die, your life-long effort to insure my happiness. THE BETROTHAL. 39 "'Tell her all : bid her forgive me; for I know I wronged her too. Ask her, then, to hear your pleading — for my sake, to comfort you.'" " Why, then, came you not unto me with her message, long ago, When you needed comfort sadly — Ward, why not have told me so ? " It is vain for me to tell you all my life has been your own. Leave denials, petty falsehoods, unto youth ; the truth alone " We must speak — and could no other, tho' the words were all unsaid : " In my eyes, as I in yours, Ward, all the meaning would be read." " O my life ! my queen of women ! peerless idol of my heart ! Can it be your lips have uttered words like these ? O now — apart "From its source — I know the meaning of a message which befell Me upon a gladsome morning, tho' its depth I could not tell. " When she died I hid her message, with your face, deep in my soul ; For it seemed like sacrilege, soon to execute this role. " More than all, I feared your life-work had outgrown my memory. And I dared not test a question which involved so much to me. "So I stayed ; and hoped, in staying, I might possibly become More your counterpart in Spirit, ere I came unto your home. " But, awakening one morning all the daylight seemed to bring Unto me new Hope, new Being — as if God's eternal Spring 40 THE BETROTHAL. *' Had unfolded while I slumbered, touched my Soul with Poesy — As if some bright Spirit Presence steadily on-beckoned me. "While as yet the electric thrilling of this Presence with me stayed, Some resistless power impelled me unto you — and I obeyed. "So I wait, Jane, your decision — it is Life or Death to me : And I cannot think you cruel — cruel as you'd surely be "To reject my love, which never faltered once since first we met. Though I strove — God knows koia vainly — as my Duty — to for get r PART IV. I DREAMED a dream— though unconfessed, In some cahn hour I have half-guessed 'Twas not all necromancy ; The vision was so beautiful, I seemed oblivious to all But its bewildering fancy. I knew not how, nor whence it came ; A mystic charm dwelt in the name, A wond'rous power — 'twas Love : It might have been a Spirit bright. Ethereal and angel-like, From the far world above. My dream was troubled — something strange Came over it ; the form did change As changed its graceful fashion : This creation of Fancy grew So frightful that I scarcely knew Its form at all — 'twas Passion. The fair white garme^it trailed in dust, Its purity was stained — and Lust Leered through its ghastly features. I shuddered, gasped, and then awoke : By no will-power would I invoke Again these — anti-Creatures. Ward stood waiting my decision ; on my words his fate half- hung. And I saw th' intense emotion with which unto them he clung. 42 THE BETROTHAL. So I paused — myself reluctant words so fateful to out-speak, Which might chill his Soul, and sever him from me, I felt so weak As I strove, just then, to utter words which he could compre- hend — Which would unto him interpret half the depth I wished to send. Just then a great, throbbing pity for his life so long loveless Surged within my soul, and filled it Avith a subdued tenderness; Then I thought of what the Poet on the fair white page had traced : " Good love's better for a man's soul in the end, howe'er ill placed.'' " Yes," I said, "good lov^e is better, and the life which he would seek Must too soon degenerate into something mortal — weak." So I spoke : " Dear friend, my brother, what I am about to say Is because I truly love you — though perhaps not in the way, " Could you choose, you would have chosen ; I shall love you yet the same As I have, these years, however great or little be your blame. " I have loved you long. No other ever spoke unto my soul In the language you have spoken. Ward — dear Ward — stay, hear the whole," Those words, which unconsciously I had used, "dear brother," " friend," Seemed unto his ardent Spirit something like a chill — to send. THE BETROTHAL. 43 " Once I thought, to hear you pleading for my love as now you plead Would have been the holiest giving Earth could offer : nor, indeed, " Do I scorn your gift — affection such as yours as valueless. Do you ask if I return it ? Then I answer — answer— -y^^- / " Unreservedly, I love you ! Will you then be satisfied — Seek no pledge by which to bind me ever to become your Bride ? " " Jane, I do not understand you ! Do you love me ? Yet, you say You and I must go, forever, each a wide and separate way ? " " Nay ! I said not so ; 'twas only I could never wed with you As the world weds. Priests and altars would our highest love undo." "Now, indeed, you speak in riddles; yet I read your soul's intent In the earnestness of vision which upon my own is bent. " And I know you are a woman given to no petty talk — So I see within your verdict my sealed Fate. Jane ! why thus rnock " One who humbly kneels before you, pleads with you to take his heart And his Life ? Why, tell him plainly you reject him ! I depart. "Hold ! I had not meant to hurt you; but I see my unkind words Have thrust deeply in your spirit. As a sportsman brings down birds 44 TBE BETROTHAL. " When a net has failed t'entangle them, he shoots the pretty things ; So, proud Bird, have I now wounded you, because your royal wings, " Long outspread, refused to flutter, and so hurriedly alight ; Jane, forgive my stupid speaking if I pained you — and, good- night." Then I knew what I had spoken unto him was misconstrued, And would be, 'spite generosity with which by him 'twould be viewed. All my efforts, howe'er earnest, would, I feared, fail to convey Aught of depth or aught of meaning which I wished the most to say. I was dumb ; almost despairing, in humility I wept. thou Christ of human Spirits, pitiless art Thou ? I slept, For how long I made no record : overlapsed was Time to me By a superhuman vision of endless Eternity ! 1 had poured my soul in anguish forth — 'twas myGethsemane — And the Spirit of the Lord Christ came and ministered to me : " Even as I drank the bitter of the cup unto the end. So must thou ; fear not, I'm with thee — I will ever thee de- fend. " In the darkness, in the daylight, falter not ; be strong in me, And the glory of the Father with me thou shalt shortly see. "Be thou strong ! Thy earthly mission from on high to thee was given ; He who bears his cross in Earth-life brighter shines in yon far heaven." THE BETROTHAL. 45 It was morn. Within, about me, all the air was full of Spring, And, in harmony witli Nature, I a soulful song could sing. Hastily I sent a message unto Ward, and asked that" he Would come back, for I must offer him, at least, apology." So he came. A moment only from its course my purpose swerved : 'Twere more truthfully recorded — His within whose cause I served. Ward was pale. I saw the traces of long vigils on his face. But he showed no base resentment ; just his mild, habitual grace. I was first to mar the silence by audible sound of word : " Ward, forgive me for the seeming of indifference. You've heard, "Have you not — a heaven-sent mission fired and roused a Poet-heart ? " " Yes — nor do I hold you selfish or indifferent ; Jane, your art " Has become your life ; and, altho' you may love, I still fore- knew 'Twould be giving much, yea, much more — than receiving — unto you. " When I left you, yester-ev'ning 'twas because I felt too weak Then, to bear, as strong souls must bear, all I knew that you would speak. "And I have — believe me this, Jane, whate'er I may not pos- sess — Too much honor for insistence, that your final answer's — yes. " I have learned an art, too, since we stood and took owy Jirst degree ; In the same class we acquired that — this I've mastered sep*- rately : 46 THE BETROTHAL. " When to me facts are unfolded, when I face them — and I find What I seek's beyond attaining, to th' inevitable I'm resigned. "This, I own " — in tremulous accents Ward proceeded — "hurts me more ; Hurts my soul — makes wound so deep, it can ne'er heal on mortal shore. " Altho', when you've wrought the mission th' Infinite has given you — In the Life Beyond, I've wondered, if my love prove loyal, true — " We may not stand reunited, loved and loving evermore, O my friend — my peerless Poet — as we've never loved before." If there's law which governs action — Psychological by name, It acts with most s\i}ci\S!i^ prescience between those who are the same Mentally — whose inner being fits each to interpret each — Comprehends what verbal language, hovve'er fine, e'en fails to reach. If I feared to test the limit of my power t'enlighten One Who had never failed in gaining all the heights which I had won, Then I failed to trust the sources whence all Wisdom truly flows ; But the sequel proved how vainly human thought its plummet throws. Ward had gained the snow-capped summit of my Idealities — Even while I conned some method my thought to unfold to his. THE BETROTHAL. 47 But the heights which he had mounted in a Night of solitude, He, through years of bitter struggle, practically understood. Days and days we pace the Valley, stumble blindly, slowly through. Unseen the kind Hand that's leading, unloved the Great Heart so true To our needs : a single bounding — lo ! upon the Heights we stand, And, behold ! upon our vision bursts the eternal Promised Land. It was plain to me, that moment, Ward and I were two twin souls, Separated from creation. Transmigration thus unfolds Mysteries of spirit-union ; better reason could I give Unto him, since he Conclusions reached so readily — t'receive Premises, I knew, were easy, having those accepted quite ; So I told him *' of my mission — given from the Source of Light. " Not t'enlighten Jews nor Gentiles specifically, but the world — 'Twas to Spiritualize Fiction : for this purpose I had hurled " Barbed darts of Truth, well guarded with a spice of senti- ment. Though my books might not accomplish that whereunto they were sent. " Even then I felt the pressure of a critical, hard press, Somewhatly berating me for my ' nameless foolishness.' " Though humiliating truthful to be, I must there admit That at times I had been daunted by the overcharge of wit " Which reviewers pleased to level at my ' wondrous lack of sense.' 'Sacrificing so much genius,' they had said, 'for such im, mense 48 THE BETROTHAL. " ' Vagaries was cause for marvel.' And, in truth, the tables turned : Marking out heroic courses for one's heroes — I have learned — "And one's self therein them treading, means a vastly differ- ent thing. Human nature's human nature — so I find — and marrying " Hath for me, too, an attraction as for others ; yea, and more, It was no heroic action — l/ta^ I did 7iot wed before ! " Thus, you see, I'll make confession ere I finish — that to me. Although virtue's always virtue — here 'twas a necessity. " I have never known another whom I could have wedded — loved ; We were fated — separated — whether it were wisely's proved "By the sequel : now I'll tell you, maybe more explicitly, What my loss — your early marriage — gave instead of love to me. " It was years before I settled thoroughly within my mind These few fundamental facts ; and these were all, or chiefly coined " From extended observation, from the evidence of those Who came unto me, their heartaches — wed and single — to dis- close. " First I saw — 'twas sad to see it — they who wedded somehow changed ; It was difficult to find those matrimony'd not estranged. " Seemed as if the bridal altar quite oppressed the Spirifs breath. That the heavy-odor'd Flowers redolent were with its death. THE BETROTHAL. 49 " Once I knew a pious Rector, who was wise as he was good : When I spake to him these fancies, he confessed that his own blood •' Had been chilled e'en while in saying, ' Unto death wilt thou be true'? 'Twas as if a Phantom Presence slowly muttered— 'Z>^^//2, 'tis now ! ' " Then, too, being sympathetic, I the woes of others feel As my own— no lack of sorrows I've entreated been to heal ; " Mothers feared to wed their daughters, lest they fell a help- less prey Unto Passion, which Incarnate as an Angel oft would stray " To their homes : covet these blossoms of untarnished purity, Then pervert the sacred meaning of sweet words : Maternity, "Wedded bliss— love— lover— husband. O, I know you think me hard To denounce your sex so coldly ; but this is no fiction, Ward. "Neither is the pain, the suffering, which upon our sex is placed : This has stirred me (as all others)— through its course I've backward traced "All the misery incumbent now upon all Adam's Sons ; Through their lustful disobedience all this entailed sorrow comes. *' This is no great revelation, one might say— 'tis not, of course ; But the proof— substantiation is. Look at the source— " At the records, and you'll find that two Creations there are writ — Neither's like unto the other, neither do they each, each fit : 4 50 THE BETROTHAL. " One in Genesis, first chapter, finished and called highest good — ' Male and female ' both reflecting image of the Fatherhood. " In a Spiritual likeness this creation must have been ; If ' God is a Spirit,' surely His image could not be Siti. "Now, once finished. Ward, I ask you, can a thing 7nore finished be ? In the chapter next to this one, recorded again you see "A Creation, all unlike it, animal, sinful, and cursed : One the kingdom of th' Infinite ; and the other, Satan's worst j "One the Spiritual, God's kingdom ; if the other literal Be, or figurative, I'd answer — were you of my sex you'd feel "There was little enough oi figure in the account, and in the curse Which has followed — followed woman since 'twas uttered, sharp and terse. " This it was which, added unto all these queries I have told, Led me first to ask th' Infinite unto me Truth to unfold. " And I say — through ijispiration He hath revealed unto me All these baffling facts of Being — Life and all its Mystery ! " He hath ' ope'd my understanding' that I might interpret all That which I had recognized as my Mission and my Call." "Well, it is the same old story, Jane, I've heard so oft before : Having fruit of knoivledge eaten, it was acrid at the core. "From all this, now, your deductions I do fail to apprehend, Though it may be my perceptions are too slow. I understand " Marriage is divinely sanctioned ; typifies the unity Between Christ — His Church ; and may be sacred made 'twixt you and me." THE BETROTHAL. 51 " Of our souls, Ward, I believe that : marriage is indeed divine If the union's Spirit-\!i\\\o\\ ; we are wedded — you are mine. " Mark you how the first Creation by the Infinite was blessed ; Then the other, sinful, finite, by the Lord God's blasted cursed. " Ah ! I feel your doubt reflected on my thought : ' 'Tis sac- rilege,' You are saying. Ward, 'tis not so ; think how surely is this age— " Have all ages — been cursed, suffered — through their idola- trous si7i : And aspired they not to become Gods — first through their transgressing ? " He who upon quaking Sinai gave the Law would ne'er have said, •Thou of Gods shalt have none other,' if no others existed. " These, you say, were golden, wooden — idol-worship in that day Wide prevailed. Well, grant your statement, these Lord Gods were all of clay : "Man's own being, sinful, fieshly, is his Lord j he cursed himself, And his hardened, froward Spirit sits imprisoned : love of pelf, "Greed of gain, and idol-worship, these are nothing unto him If compared unto the Body y they are but a lifeless limb. " I had thought these two recorded histories herein to be One Creation, till enlightened by the Spirit — now I see 52 THE BETROTHAL. *' One's divine, another's human; one is Gods', and one Lord Gods' ; One is blessed, the other cursed — and in sin created 'twas ; "Unto death is it condemned, back to dust — back whence it came. ' 'Tis a liar,' so the Word says— this Creation Christ doth name " Murderer from the beginning, denies its reality. Sacrifices all thafs fieshly : thus did Abram, as you'll see. " Now another strange conception of the Truth unto me came, In the reading of these chapters : in Genesis not the same "Are the sons of God and Adam. Something similar the names. But by closely these comparing, each with each, it truly seems "That the Adam — and the meaning of the word is, merely, first — In ' God's likeness and His image' bore not Cain — bore not the worst " Of those sinners, Mark you now, how, w^ien * ' God's sons saw those 'twere fair Of mens daughters, how they wedded ; neither was it until there " God denounced all men : ' His Spirit ' — said he — ' should not always strive ' With his own because that they, too, becajne flesh j they should survive "But of years an hundred-twenty; thus was shortened, first, men's days Upon earth. Through all the ages which succeeded, unto ways • Genesis, vi., 1-3. THE BETROTHAL. 53 "Of rebellion, sin, lust, murder, and all crimes they could con- ceive Men plunged hopelessly, niistaking God's direction, I believe." "This indeed's a unique channel, into which your thinking flows ; For the truth, plain and ungilded, you have spoken. Jane, who knows "But four strangely wrought deductions and theologies may prove Basis for a broader structure than has yet been builded. Love " Thus refined from the material I must recognize — if true Unto Truth — can be no other than divine love withi^t you / " And you are a ' fitting temple ' where th' Omnipotent might well Rear a sacred shrine ; forever bidding the Shekinah dwell." " No more fitting one — nor should I be — than every son of God Since the Christ hath been Incarnate within human flesh ; all Good "Man reflects; if but believing, trusting now, the only 'way^ Out of Death to Life : the Spirit of God — Good — must ever stay " In his soul ; and naught of e7nl can he know, henceforth restored Unto the diviiie lost itnage, through Christ's coming of his Lord. " Thus the birth of our Redeemer — the at-^«^-ment doubly made — Brought unto human conception God, from whom in sin man strayed 54 THE BETROTHAL, " Into lust ; when from this being of all Goodness, Love, and Truth Man departed — man condemned, damned himself — because, forsooth ! " When he hearkened to the woman — who with subtilty com- pared To a serpent — became human ; lost the image of his Gody " Then you hold the old-time doctrine, that of man's depravity, To be error ; you annul this, if I all your points can see. " Jane, you stir these old foundations with such a volcanic shake. And you'll feel the fires of torture, which enkindled at the stake ! " "Nay, O nay! Ward, you mistake me; can you not then understand That I hold man's depravedVi€\w