The World of Romance | Page 5

thought) fighting in the holy
wars, and it made me almost beside myself to see him standing close by
me in the flesh. I got down from my scaffolding as soon as I could, and
all thoughts else were soon drowned in the joy of having him by me;
Margaret, too, how glad she must have been, for she had been betrothed
to him for some time before he went to the wars, and he had been five
years away; five years! and how we had thought of him through those
many weary days! how often his face had come before me! his brave,
honest face, the most beautiful among all the faces of men and women I
have ever seen. Yes, I remember how five years ago I held his hand as

we came together out of the cathedral of that great, far-off city, whose
name I forget now; and then I remember the stamping of the horses'
feet; I remember how his hand left mine at last, and then, some one
looking back at me earnestly as they all rode on together--looking back,
with his hand on the saddle behind him, while the trumpets sang in long
solemn peals as they all rode on together, with the glimmer of arms and
the fluttering of banners, and the clinking of the rings of the mail, that
sounded like the falling of many drops of water into the deep, still
waters of some pool that the rocks nearly meet over; and the gleam and
flash of the swords, and the glimmer of the lance-heads and the flutter
of the rippled banners that streamed out from them, swept past me, and
were gone, and they seemed like a pageant in a dream, whose meaning
we know not; and those sounds too, the trumpets, and the clink of the
mail, and the thunder of the horse-hoofs, they seemed dream-like
too--and it was all like a dream that he should leave me, for we had said
that we should always be together; but he went away, and now he is
come back again.
We were by his bed-side, Margaret and I; I stood and leaned over him,
and my hair fell sideways over my face and touched his face; Margaret
kneeled beside me, quivering in every limb, not with pain, I think, but
rather shaken by a passion of earnest prayer. After some time (I know
not how long), I looked up from his face to the window underneath
which he lay; I do not know what time of the day it was, but I know
that it was a glorious autumn day, a day soft with melting, golden haze:
a vine and a rose grew together, and trailed half across the window, so
that I could not see much of the beautiful blue sky, and nothing of town
or country beyond; the vine leaves were touched with red here and
there, and three over-blown roses, light pink roses, hung amongst them.
I remember dwelling on the strange lines the autumn had made in red
on one of the gold-green vine leaves, and watching one leaf of one of
the over-blown roses, expecting it to fall every minute; but as I gazed,
and felt disappointed that the rose leaf had not fallen yet, I felt my pain
suddenly shoot through me, and I remembered what I had lost; and then
came bitter, bitter dreams,--dreams which had once made me
happy,--dreams of the things I had hoped would be, of the things that
would never be now; they came between the fair vine leaves and rose

blossoms, and that which lay before the window; they came as before,
perfect in colour and form, sweet sounds and shapes. But now in every
one was something unutterably miserable; they would not go away,
they put out the steady glow of the golden haze, the sweet light of the
sun through the vine leaves, the soft leaning of the full blown roses. I
wandered in them for a long time; at last I felt a hand put me aside
gently, for I was standing at the head of--of the bed; then some one
kissed my forehead, and words were spoken--I know not what words.
The bitter dreams left me for the bitterer reality at last; for I had found
him that morning lying dead, only the morning after I had seen him
when he had come back from his long absence--I had found him lying
dead, with his hands crossed downwards, with his eyes closed, as
though the angels had done that for him; and now when I looked at him
he still lay there, and Margaret knelt by him with her face touching his:
she was not quivering now, her lips moved not at all as they had