Under King Constantine | Page 4

look That came from deeper depths than she had known, And reached a depth in her as yet unstirred. She stood enspelled by his long silent gaze Of subtle power. His unswerving eyes Quelled her by steadfast calm, yet kindled her By lavish love and light.
Although no word Was said between them, as they moved apart, She knew he loved her, and he wist she knew.
And with the revelation there was born A wider knowledge of life's mystery. Sir Torm had never satisfied her soul; But though in outward seeming she was proud, High-spirited, and passing courtly dame, At heart the Lady Gwendolaine was still A hungry child who craved love's nourishing, Unconscious of her hunger; so she had clung,-- In spite of shocks, repeated time on time,-- Close to the thought of Torm, remembering all He was to her in wooing her; rehearsed-- As children count their pennies one by one Day after day to prove their wealth--each good And sign of promise in his nature generous, Until her buoyant heart, quick to react, Had warmed itself, and kept itself alive, By its own warmth and fire of earnest zeal. And as men, lost in a morass, feed fast On berries, lest they starve, and call it food, Thus, with shut eyes, had Gwendolaine, till now, Fed on affection and chance tenderness, And called it by the great and awful name Of Love, not knowing what love meant. But swift As light floods darkened chamber, when one flings The window wide, so her unconscious soul Was flooded with the strange incoming thought-- In that eternal moment--of true love, Love as a vital force within the soul, A strength, a power, an illuming light. And Sanpeur loved her! O immortal crown. She was not conscious of her love for him, Her love for his love was enough for her.
Then she awoke to joy; all things became Pregnant with deep significance. The sky Flushed with the coming of the rosy dawn; The mountains reaching heavenward; the sun That warmed the flowers, and drank their dew; the birds That built their nests well hid in leafy shade; The grass that bent in homage to the wind,-- All touched her heart anew with subtle thoughts; And joy brought rich unfolding in her life.
She had more pity for the men she scorned, More quick forgiveness for the envious dames, And when the little children crossed her path, She stooped, and kissed them, as was not her wont.
Alas! too often, this new harmony Of life was clashed by discord. Sir Torm flung Upon the homage Sanpeur rendered her Unworthy jest and spiteful words, for well He hated him with grudge despiteous. Full oft his wrath was roused to such a point He could not hold his peace; even to the King He jeered one day at visionary knights. The keen-eyed King, with intuition, knew The motive of his speech,--"Our knight, Sanpeur, But contradicts your verdict, Torm, and proves That which the great King Arthur taught,--the man Is strongest who can claim a strength divine From whence to draw his own." Sir Torm had grown More wrathful in his heart at this, and kept Sanpeur long while from word with Gwendolaine. Then, when Torm's anger did not baffle her, Sometimes a doubt would come, and doubt hides joy. Sir Sanpeur honoured her before the court With chivalrous and frankest loyalty. At the great tournament of Christmas-tide, He cried, "Such peerless presence in our midst As the unrivalled Lady Gwendolaine Strengthens the arm to prove her without peer! Let him who will dispute it!" Those who did, But proved it by their fall, for worshipfully He overthrew them with so simple ease His cause seemed justice rather than love's boast. Then when they met for converse face to face, He spoke from his unsullied, fearless soul Straight to her own, without reserve or fear. Yet he was wrapped in a calm self-control; No word, no whisper of his love for her Had ever passed his lips to tell, in truth, The love that she was sure of in her heart. And when he lingered by some maiden fair, With that true-hearted careful courtesy He never for a moment's space forgot To any woman, queen or serving-maid; And when the maiden's eyes gave bright response To his fair words of thought-betaking grace, The heart of Gwendolaine would faster beat, And all her waywardness would quick return; Then, if Sanpeur approached her, she would mock At life, and love, and fling the gauntlet down As challenge for a tournament of speech.
"And pray, Sanpeur," she said one eve to him, When they were at a feast at Camelot, "Why is your life so lone and incomplete, When any lovely maiden of the court Would follow you most gladly at your