Laurence Alma-Tadema

“ Why can’t I go to him and say, I love you, tell me the truth? I know it,—the truth,—he does not love me; and yet, until I hear his lips say it, a false hope that reason cannot kill will linger on in my heart,—linger on, I know it, even when I have placed time and space between him and me.
Only one life, and there we stand, two spirits under the sky, two that believe in Truth and Freedom, parted by insincerity. The vile weed has crept up around us; we are parted by falsehood, even we. Goodnight. Perhaps I shall not write again. I shall send you a telegram before I start, on Monday. ”

“ I copied out and laid under my pillow the words of the covenant we had made the day after our betrothal; daily I read it through, and recognised how we had failed towards each other, and towards our best beliefs.
We had both failed; but, whereas he had erred merely, I knew that I had sinned; in the fulness of my remorse, my only thought was now to offer reparation. Nor was it only for Gabriel’s sake that I was now possessed by the desire of atonement. In the blindness of human passion, I had sinned against my better self, my noblest purposes, my most firm and high beliefs ”

“ A vision of my present life flitted across me, like a cloud on a sunlit field.
“Oh!” said I, “how I envy you! Nothing useless, not a clog about you, no stupid formalities, stifling luxuries, no daily lies and false duties.”
“Have you all these?” asked Gabriel.
“Not so badly as some people, but badly enough. I have money, and no end of respectable relations.”
He laughed, and made a wry face.
When I found that it was time to wend my way home, Gabriel offered to walk with me. I was very glad. On the way out, he stopped in the hall and knocked half the things off the pegs. ”

“ Yet now, when I am alone with him, I am possessed by this terrible new fear, that he might be true to his own self and me. For to marry one woman and love another is a shameful act indeed.
Let me look upon my love and ask myself whereof it is made. If I seek to have this man, knowing his heart to be another’s, if I desire for him rather the silence of cowardice than the nobler loyalty of truth, why, then, my love is not good love. It is not love, but a most unholy passion, that places its desire above the well-being of its object. ”

“ You will be every bit as much in love with the country as I am, when once you know it well. I wish I could show it you now; the woods are changing colour, ‘tis a glowing world, and your lungs have never tasted such air as blows on Graysmill Heath. You would be very happy in the woods in summer; you could lie down and bring your face on a level with the flowers, and I should sit by and love you. There would be little sunbeams piercing the roof of leaves and twinkling about us, and just enough breeze to clear your brow of curls. O Constance! Why are we so far apart? ”

“ Surely it is in this state that people kill themselves.”
I heard the chimes again, and a duck quacked in the pond; it was as the laugh of a devil.
I turned from the window and stumbled over something; I lighted a candle, and sat shivering on the shrouded bed.
“Two o’clock,” thought I; “it is very cold. What shall I do? Shall I sleep or die?”
And, as it were with a flash, there came to me the thought that perhaps I was not the only one who sat at this moment coldly contemplating death. An awful fear seized me that perhaps he, Gabriel, might be driven to the haven of despairers. ”

“ Gabriel and I were passing through Pisa at the end of June, on our way to Lerici, whither we were bent on pilgrimage, when I fell ill.
That was the end of many dreams. The wheel could turn no more; the swift and restless life of day to day, that fled the past and hung back from the morrow, was checked abruptly, completely.
But, lying in that little bed of painted wood, staring at the net curtains and green shutters, at the lozenge pattern on the wall, at the cornucopiæ on the ceiling, a clear and sober sight returned to me. The body having failed, the spirit found its strength. ”

“ I wonder what it feels like, this implicit faith in an after life! It must make a difference, even in love. Perhaps we who believe in one life only cling with the greater passion to what we love, seeing that, once lost, we have no hope of re-possession.
Well, it’s a sad world. But a funny one, too. I was quite shy of meeting Aunt Caroline again this morning, lest the remembrance of what she had told me over-night should make her feel ill at ease; lest, in fact, she had repented of her confidence. And I stood quite a while outside the breakfast-room door, like a fool. ”

“ One evening in September, Gabriel and I were leaning out of my window; it was almost dark; the occasional footfall of a passenger fell on the stones of our quiet street; some men were singing in the trattoria round the corner; we two leant there in silence, counting the stars as they came.
“Gabriel,” said I, “I have had a letter from Constance. I am afraid she is not very happy at Graysmill; her mother worries her; she sounds lonely and not over well. Shall we go home a while?”
Gabriel shifted his feet, and turned the latch of the shutter round and round. ”

“ Still, although we build fresh castles in the air each time we meet, they all float towards Italy, in the springtime, halting a while where Constance is. If, indeed, there be a cloud remaining in my heaven, it is that you two, my soul’s monarchs, know each other only through the medium of my love. My eyes long to hold you both; I want to walk in the body, as I do in the spirit, clasping a hand of each. ”

“ The earth is very beautiful to-night; from my window I see the moon and a mighty host of glittering worlds,—even Emilia is beautiful to-night! I went to the glass just now, to look upon the face of happiness, and, instead of myself I saw—Oh, but why say all this? Why not tell you? I cannot; words are weak, but I think you can feel it, Constance. Oh, sweetest, I think you can, I think you know. I am half mad to-night; that is why I write so queerly. But now I will set it down. I wonder what it looks like, written down. I shall write it very neatly; it will look pretty. Gabriel loves me. ”

“ Sometimes, just by way of a little salutary training in renunciation, we don’t even meet every day. No, the bulk of my time will be yours and mine; we will sit up here in my room, beneath my mother’s portrait; we will make the old days live again, weld the old and the new into one. Then, Gabriel and I will take you with us for walks fitting a fairy, in the woods; how you will love them! The trees are misty already with the promise of leaves, and all manner of sweet things are beginning to pierce the ground. ”

“ I sat next Miss Norton during tea. When we had done, Gabriel stood up, chair and all, and came beside me.
“What do you think of us?” he asked. “Aren’t we rather nice?”
“Yes, indeed,” I replied; “and the funny part of it is that I feel as though I’d known you all my life.”
“That’s just how I feel with you,” said Gabriel, and Richard Norton added,—
“I like you; you’re a nice girl; you don’t turn up your nose at us because we live in our own way. You’re a nice girl.” ”

“ Little Constance, I think now that perhaps you were right when you said that I was not altogether a woman. I am certainly not made as a woman should be. A woman may return love, but she must never dare to give it. I have been guilty of this folly, and now, what is to become of me?
We are such fools, we women. When a man loves, he is all that he was, plus love; when we love, we throw ourselves headlong into the flood, and are nothing that we were.
So now you know all about it, and can prepare yourself for a gay companion. I have made up my mind to leave England, and join you in Vienna. ”

“ When I come to think of it, it was early last month that Constance began to say, “How is your friend this morning?” or “I haven’t seen Gabriel for two days; I miss him; he makes me laugh.” But I did not notice it then.
What? Is this all I have to say? It is too ridiculous! Of course she likes him; one cannot come near him without some love. Besides, she would like him for my sake. It is all so natural. He, too, did not often speak of her, does not often speak of her. It is natural, knowing how I love her, that he should feel at ease with my Constance. ”

“ So you are coming,—I can hardly believe it. Never say again that I shall forget you. Let me remind you, Madam, if all else fail to convince you, that we two are women, and that there is one tender love, one yearning, which can only be betwixt woman and woman.
There is something infinitely pathetic in this truth; a man may be the dearest, the nearest he can never be.
But I must bless and leave thee. I have promised to meet Gabriel at the Post-office.
My last letter. No need to write again. Oh, Constantia, can it be true? Yours in all truth,
Emilia. ”

“ You must not suppose, because of what I say, that he does not love me intensely; my love is unmatchable, that is all. He tells me every day that he could not live without me, and, indeed, it is true. He relies upon me entirely, calls upon my care incessantly; and very sweet it is to feel that the supreme God of my Heaven is as a child in my arms. Ah, I am happy, the world is good, and now the spring is coming. We rejoice in the growth of the year; Gabriel longs for the first primrose. He is so hard at work that I think it unlikely we shall get married before the end of April ”

“ Jane was actually making herself a new dress, so I offered to help her, and we sewed by lamplight at the kitchen table, it being a very dark afternoon. Gabriel joined us after a while; he thought we looked so cosy that he brought his books and sat at the table too, just opposite me.
You have never really loved any man, you, so perhaps you don’t know what it is to be afraid of your own eyes, because you feel that every time they rest on that thing you love, your poor heart runs and looks out of window. ”

“ Her beautiful face and yours look down at me from the shelf above my writing-table, amidst a wealth of flowers; and, as I look up, I can see the sun setting behind the beech-trees, for I sit beside the window. The sky is full of hope, the little clouds are glowing with colour, the trees with fulness of life; a blackbird is singing his heart out in the willow by the pond. I must needs believe that life is worth living.... ”

“ Do you see? Gabriel loves me. I think I shall write it again,—Gabriel loves me. I never wrote anything that pleased me so well, and my heart sings it within me unceasingly. Oh, of course it is not true; it is just a dream. I think this is how the dream went.
I sat in the study at the Thatched Cottage; we were all four there; I had not spoken for a while; the thing I had to say weighed me down. I said it suddenly, “I am going back to Florence; I shall leave Graysmill on Monday.”
Richard Norton cried, “What?” and Jane cried, “Emilia!” It was only Gabriel that said nothing. ”

“ I kissed the blue stamp and spread the three dear sheets out on my pillow. Oimé, Constantia, how I love you! But why write about me? Why waste pen and ink wondering how I am? Tell me about yourself, tell me all you do, and all you think; tell me how many different hats you wore on Wednesday, and how you misspent your time on Thursday; tell me of all the nonsense that is poured into your ears, of all the rubbish you read; tell me even how many times your mother wakes you in the night to ask if you are sleeping well. ”

“ They say she does a great deal of good, and if my money and her religion can work together, by all means let it be so.
Meanwhile I ask myself every day: What is the use of Emilia Fletcher? I really cannot see why I ever was born; my perceptions are keen, but keener than my capabilities. I shall never be able to do anything to help the world; yet I see so much that might be done. I shall not ever be able to lead that life of simple truth, of absolute fidelity to high-set aims, which I yet believe it must be in every man’s power to live. ”