You made me Love you,
Richard, and you put me by. For which Cause, and for that
their Pride was beyond Bearing, did I pull down the Roof of
Hynds House over their heads, and these my Hands did push
you into your Grave. But go you back to Sleep, my dearest
Dear. I shall Find mine Own Grave shortly, and then I shall
be able to come closer to you. When I am Dead, Richard, you
will understand."
Sometimes he will go, looking at me over his Sholder with
Eyes so sad that for Pity I must weep mine own eyes Blind.
But sometimes he will say, in a Voice none may hear but me:
"Cruel, cruel Jessamine! You shall not come near me even
when you are Dead: You shall be Farther from me than when we
two walk'd Quick under the Sun. Never, never did you truly
Love me: I know, the Dead being Wiser than the Living! 'T is
Emily Lov'd me truest."
And oh, thou awful, far-off God, I cannot make him
Understand! And unless I can make him understand, I am lost!
My misery, my misery! He will not listen. I am dying of this
thing!
Now did Shooba's Death-in-Life come upon him once more, and
for a day and a night he lay Stark.
Pages:
271
272
273
274
275
276
277
278
279
280
281
282
283
284
285
286
287
288
289
290
291
292
293
294
295