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 THORA 
 
 MEMOIRS OF A NINETEENTH-CENTURY WOMAN 
 
 *f 
 
1,W 
 
 Crown 8»tf, clotk, 6s. 
 
 Tokiwa and other Poems 
 
 BY 
 
 Mrs. ASHLEY CARUS-WILSON, B.A. 
 
 (nJe Mary L. G. Petrie) 
 
 "Mrs. Ashley Carus Wilson's volume opins "ith a piece 
 based upon a legend of Old J.ipan, and th.oughout draws 
 its subject from an astonishingly wide range of reading. 
 Not only the classical literatures of aacient Greece and 
 Rome are laid under contribution, the Anglo-Saxon epic 
 and the ancient books of India, but Scriptural history or 
 suggestion and modern life indifferently give the themes. 
 The volume will find its most deeply interested readers 
 among women who can appreciate its value as an instance 
 of notable achievement in a field of literary achievement in 
 which women (happy as they often are in slighter lyrical 
 work) rarely excel." — Scotsman. 
 
 London : Hodpkr & Stoughton, 27, Paternoster Row. 
 
THORA 
 
 MEMOIRS OF A NINETEENTH-CENTURY WOMAN 
 
 FROM 
 
 "TOKIWA AND OTHER POEMS" 
 
 BY MRS. 
 
 ASHLEY CARUS-WILSON, B.A. Lond. 
 
 (Nie M. L. G. PETRIE) 
 
 AUTHOR OF " CLEWS TO HOLY WRIT," ETC. 
 
 ND SI 
 
 27, PATERNOSTER ROW 
 
 HODDER AND STOUGHTON 
 
 MDCCCXCVI 
 
fS94-sS' 70859 
 
 The over-curious public may wish to be informed at once that 
 " Thora" is not an autobiography. The critics, ever ready to pounce 
 uix>n the improbable in Action, may be glad to know that the 
 incidents of one real life are here interwoven with a few incidents 
 taken from other real lives. 
 
 '■■ij* 
 
THORA 
 3^ntrot)uction 
 
 I, Myra, Randolph's wife, am legatee 
 To papers, signed and sealed by the dead hand 
 Of her who was my girlhood's dearest friend, 
 Sought out as lovers seek each other out, 
 The first of all not bound to me by blood 
 Or dearer bond of wedlock. Why she gave 
 Her heart in such large measure unto me. 
 Who am not raised above the rest by aught, 
 I know not ; for in Thora powers met 
 That men had worshipped in a man, and owned 
 Even in a woman. She would have me read 
 Her story, making others read it too 
 If it will guide or cheer a living .soul. 
 
 273 1 8 
 
274 THORA 
 
 Tears come not now as freely as they came 
 In girlhood, but my eyes o'erflowed yestreen 
 Reading it, when my dearest lord came in, 
 His day's work done, and drew me to his side. 
 And our lips met, as they meet every day, 
 Though we are wed for many a merry year ; 
 And since the hour my maiden love went out 
 To meet the sweetest lover in the world, 
 Tall lads and girls have filled our home, and 
 
 Time 
 Has furrowed cheek and slackened youthful gait. 
 Still we are lovers, lovers we shall be 
 When eld has crowned our brows with arctic 
 
 snow. 
 Devotion deepens, nestling in the arms 
 Of the protecting love which shields my head : 
 I could conceive that failing me as soon 
 As I repenting that I gave away 
 Myself, and sat to learn at Love's own feet 
 One summer, nearly forty years ago. 
 
THORA 275 
 
 But what am I, that life to mc has brought 
 
 Its best in such abundance, when for her 
 
 Who had turned its sunshine into richer fruit, 
 
 Such cloudy days made up a dreary year ? 
 
 I ask it, as I ask those glowing woods 
 
 Why death must be their portion, when they 
 
 stand 
 Most glorious in their gold and crimson robes. 
 Thus Thora's noble character shone out 
 Most noble, when she bowed her head in 
 
 death. 
 Read mc the riddle through an emblem true. 
 " As a tree's days my people's days shall be," 
 Said a great prophet. Even trees take heart 
 To pluck best radiance from the ageless sun 
 Ere they without misgiving lay aside 
 Their robes, and face the winter blast unclothed, 
 Knowing they die not all, and Spring must come, 
 When buds of hope will bloom and promise fruit. 
 So man, who has For Ever, dares to wait. 
 
Ipart I 
 
 PARENTAGE 
 
 Austen, the carl's tall son, loved Adela ; 
 But she could never give him love for love. 
 They praised him, he was comely, well-endowed. 
 Blameless withal, and born of high degree ; 
 And none could gainsay aught of all their praise. 
 She smiled on him, and not on him alone. 
 Some reckoned her the sweetest girl they knew : 
 While others, carping, saw in sunny speech 
 That asked for praise and sunny speech again, 
 A soul by shallow liking whilome stirred, 
 Where deep, devoted love could never shrine. 
 Yet might a kindred, higher soul have changed 
 
 Light girl to tender woman, had one made 
 
 276 
 
TIIORA 277 
 
 Her heart beat quick for him. Here Austen 
 
 failed. 
 " I find no fault. Nay, he is good, too good ; 
 But I could never love him." " Were he old. 
 Lowborn, or evil, I would urge thee not," 
 Her mother said, " but I would die content 
 Could my girls' faces win me five such sons. 
 Maids that are too nice often die unwed." 
 " Better keep hand than give without the heart," 
 Cried Adela. " Schoolgirl romance, have done ! 
 When thou hast followed three fair brides to 
 
 church, 
 And none hath led thee to its altar veiled, 
 Thou wilt be wise too late. Thy cold esteem 
 Is the dull sheath where folded petals sleep 
 In darkness now, that wedlock will call forth 
 To perfect bloom of sober, wifely love. 
 But girlhood's passing fancy kindled swift 
 To passionate love is like untimely bloom 
 Preventing its own foliage, when raw winds 
 
278 . THORA 
 
 Beat their chill wings on the bare boughs of 
 
 March ; 
 Bloom that will He unheeded, trodden, soiled, 
 When patient blossom wakes 'neath kinder skies. 
 Leave then the figment of the fairy tale 
 For facts, as childhood's whims are left for life." 
 She faltered, till the devil came and said, 
 " Austen is rich. Let pomp and ease be yours" 
 Then Austen asked again, and had to wife 
 Her who could take Love's sacred name in vain. 
 And never blither bridegroom fitted ring 
 On whiter finger. He indeed was rich 
 As men count riches ; in high places set, 
 Though not in highest ; he had wooed and won 
 Knowledge, which brought him fame, and fame 
 
 brought friends. ,'•' 
 
 Yet he was poor in greater things than these. 
 His mother gave him life which cost her death ; 
 His father died ere he could shrink from death ; 
 His brothers went their ways that were not his. 
 
THORA 279 
 
 He, yearning vainly to be all to one 
 Who should be all to him, gave Adela 
 Frankest affection, trusting her reserve 
 Mantled a heart as ardent as his own. 
 Had she not sworn to love him utterly ? 
 Men marked them as a happy man and wife. 
 " Good fortune follows some from dawn to eve : 
 Austen, who had so much, has won yet more. 
 How well her neck becomes his heirloom pearls ! 
 How well she fills his hall with willing guests ! 
 How smoothly runs his life ! How fine the brood — 
 Two sons, three daughters — who adorn their 
 
 home ! " 
 And yet soul-hunger wans his placid face. 
 That which he had in form and hue was like 
 The bread he craved for, but it proved a stone ; 
 Whose unappeasing hardness thus he learned. 
 One day, his arm about his new-made wife, 
 He told her how he wept himself to sleep 
 In lonely crib, seeing another child 
 
28o • THORA , 
 
 Laid by a mother's kind, strong hands to rest, 
 His prayer murmured at her knee, his lids 
 Sealed for their careless sleep by her fond kiss, • 
 Then Adela said, " 'Tis strange to recollect ^ 
 
 What paltry joys and woes made up our life 
 Ere we had put our childish things away." 
 Bankrupt of love, she'd live without a tear ; 
 While he would long to die. Her bond to pay 
 Him love was paper promise to the end ; ' \"^; 
 
 And all his aims and hopes were strange to her. 
 He planned, 'mid murmuring pines and new-mown 
 
 hay, 
 For joy in sunshine shared by singing birds, 
 A haven from turmoil of their London life, p ■; 
 She planned to fill that new abode with guests. 
 For her perpetual quest of life's delight. 
 " Have I not earned the peace of solitude ? " 
 " Nay, we shall find it passing dull alone." 
 He pled for leisure to bring forth a book 
 Germinate in the darkness of his brain, 
 
THORA 28i 
 
 A darling sprout of fancy, ripe to shoot. 
 
 She doubted not 'twas clever, 'twould be praised ; 
 
 But she, who never read, believed the world 
 
 Was over-full of books, and time was scant 
 
 For literary idlesse : duties throng, 
 
 When sons must be advanced and daughters wed. 
 
 And clamouring society satisfied. 
 
 The world called her " good mother " not amiss, 
 
 True daughter of her mother, whose own girls 
 
 Edna and Dona like herself would grow. 
 
 Though wilful Thora, youngest of the flock, 
 
 Might disappoint. Her tale is written here 
 
 For who would learn the story of her soul. 
 
 I 
 
Ipart II 
 
 CHILDHOOD 
 
 Thora was five when Austen found the child, 
 With trace of recent tempest on her face, 
 Hovering near his study. He, her friend 
 And champion ever, bore her off to bliss 
 Beside him, hearing that the time had come 
 When she, who had already learned to love 
 The language of the printed page, must know 
 Language of ivory keys she could but hate. 
 Her uttered hate had been rebuked : " Come back 
 At noon in better mind and take your task." 
 But noon long past, she sat at Austen's feet ; 
 And as warm airs and ruddy hues return 
 To the discouraged scene when clouds drift off, 
 
 aSa 
 
THORA 283 
 
 Lightened of rain, and leave the sun unveiled, 
 Her smiles brake forth. " Oh, mother, could you 
 
 guess 
 The moth wore feathers like a downy dove ? 
 Through these great eyes has father shown them 
 
 me. 
 
 But Adela entering, greeted thus, replied, 
 
 ** What dost thou here, wasting thy precious time, 
 
 Thy father's, and thy teacher's ? Hence, forthwith ! " 
 
 Then to her husband, " Thora will not learn. 
 
 * Apt pupil ' sayest thou ? Nay, I spoke of things 
 
 Worth learning for a girl whose dower of face 
 
 Is poorer than her sisters'. Little boots 
 
 Knowing a beetle's legs are six or eight ; 
 
 While girls who play and sing can always charm." 
 
 Then Austen, " Said Petruchio, Kate for me 
 
 Rather than smooth Bianca, and said well." 
 
part III 
 
 GIRLHOOD 
 
 Thora at fifteen yielded beauty's praise 
 
 To Dona, her fair mother's fairest child, 
 
 And Edna, who with white, well-moulded arm, 
 
 Swept harp-strings into winning melody : 
 
 Not humbly wooing music as an art, 
 
 But leading captive an accomplishment 
 
 That promised finer captives in its train. 
 
 Serene in self-contentment with their caste, 
 
 Their faultless features, and their faultless guise. 
 
 Were both. They reckoned as their breath of life 
 
 The dainty adulation which blows round 
 
 Womanhood fair and young r?.nd rich ; claimed this, 
 
 Even as they claimed soft couch and sheeny robes 
 
 284 
 
TPIORA 285 
 
 And hothouse blossom for their jewelled throat*" 
 Life gave them all that life can give to such. 
 And they were gracious to their friends, and kind 
 To needy ones who crossed their flowery path, 
 Nor checked their progress. Dona's sweetest smile 
 Was given to twenty friends, who each believed 
 Herself its only owner. And they said, 
 " So gentle and affectionate a maid 
 Will be a loving wife ere long. 'Tis well 
 Strong-minded Thora weds her books so soon. 
 For she is cold and strange and hath scant charm." 
 They said so, looking on her ruffled hair. 
 Shy bearing, fixed blue eyes, and mobile mouths 
 Thwarted expression. She already longed 
 To make the world anew, and find a scope 
 For untried powers fellow-men might need. 
 ** I can do something: much is there to do." 
 And those who saw her kindling at such words 
 Called her lit face the fairest of the three. 
 While her few friends were grappled to her soul :^S 
 
286 . THORA 
 
 Once and for ever. Austen's long-starved heart 
 Proved hers the warmest he had ever sought. 
 She loved to browse among his books and brood 
 On questionings hard of action and of thought. 
 The grave professor, with his thin grey locks 
 And scholar's stoop, who talked to her an hour 
 Of Sophocles and Plato (while the rest 
 Wondered what two who could not tune their 
 
 tongues 
 To topics of the moment found to say), 
 Deemed her the best of comrades in discourse, 
 Joining man's earnestness to woman's wit. 
 Then his last essay on the true import 
 Of great Athene Glaukopis he gave 
 And she took, blushing deep with eager joy. 
 Panting for knowledge : till another guest 
 Laid hold of her and catechised her thus : — ; 
 " Say, are you fond of music ? " " Dona plays, 
 Not I." " Then do you sing ? " "I must begin 
 Next year, I fear." " Then is your pencil skilled ? " 
 
THORA 287 
 
 " Nay, Edna is the artist of our group." 
 " So you have no pursuits. We cannot all 
 Be clever." Thora meekly held her peace, 
 Weighed and found wanting in the worldling's 
 
 scale, 
 And heard a verdict harder still to bear. 
 " Thora is clever, not like other girls ; 
 She should have been a boy." Then Thora took 
 Indignant " Wherefore ? " to her happiest haunt, 
 Where Austen, having given to the state 
 His morning hours, gleaned from the social eve 
 Time for the self-set task that is not toil. 
 His gathered lore of many climes and books 
 Were shaping forth a volume on the use 
 Worldwide of Lions as heraldic signs. 
 There Thora, when her tale of bricks was told. 
 Piano, sketching, dancing, singing, French, 
 Stole to her father's window-seat and mused ; 
 Lived in the age of chivalry, and read 
 Of fearless, stainless Bayard, as the sun 
 
288 THORA 
 
 « 
 
 Shed last rays on the knighted window pane ; 
 
 Or gazed upon one helm6d marble head — 
 
 Pallas Athene — with her soul aflame 
 
 To learn the language of those godlike Greeks, 
 
 Key to the storehouse of the world's best thought. 
 
 *' What saith Athene to my pensive maid ? " 
 
 Asked Austen. And she burst forth, all aglow, 
 
 " Why, if the Greeks, the wisest of mankind, 
 
 Called Wisdom goddess and not god, do men 
 
 Refuse the tree of knowledge unto us, 
 
 And grudge to women all the joys of fame ? " 
 
 " Not so ; for wise Hypatia's pupils found 
 
 Her Pallas in the flesh ; and Rome's best king 
 
 Was tutored by Egeria the nymph ; 
 
 Learned Apollos sat at Prisca's feet ; 
 
 And, in Bologna, students flocked to hear 
 
 Professors erudite as they were fair. 
 
 Strong women have been gladly owned as strong, 
 
 Since Deborah and Hatasu bore rule ; 
 
 And social queens were queens of culture too 
 
THORA 289 
 
 When great Elizabeth made England great." 
 *' Why was I born out of that happier past ? 
 I have a mind that cro.ves for solid food, 
 That I may gird me unto worthy work. 
 But blind convention gives me husks for grain, 
 And bids me sit aloft and idly sing, 
 Mocking the toilers amid unknown ills, 
 That surge and seethe below and will o'erwhclm 
 Toilers and singers unredressed at last. 
 They shut us out from the wide world of thought, 
 Then blame our trivial hopes and petty aims. 
 Oh, could I win for women lore that men 
 Take not when offered ! Had I Vernon's chance, 
 Think you I'd call it sacrifice to make 
 Some leisure from the oar for * those old books ' 
 That are withheld where craved ? Oh, to amend 
 The scheme of gentle life that rules to-day ! " 
 " Self must be mended ere we mend the world," 
 Said Austen. " Thora, you shall seek and find. 
 My book accomplished, I will teach you Greek, 
 
 19 
 
290 THORA 
 
 Filling your basket with good grain to grow 
 Unto good harvest if you sow aright. 
 For flattery as woman, you shall earn 
 Honour aa human being, using well 
 The powers God has given to my child." 
 
 Thora received her Greek books at the time 
 Trees and young maids adorn themselves for play. 
 Then pretty Dona donned a dainty robe 
 Snowy as is the one soft cloud that hangs 
 Alone in June's deep blue, and knelt to kiss 
 The sovereign's hand, returned elate, and cried, 
 " Oh, Thora, long you not to go to court ? " 
 Blunt was the answer, " I would rather go 
 To college." " What ? To waste your brightest 
 
 days 
 Painfully gaining dusty lore, which gained 
 Is vain, unless you mean to die ' old maid ' ? " 
 " I mean to prove us born for higher things 
 Than pleasing all men for a little space, 
 To be the slave of one's caprice for aye." 
 
THORA 291 
 
 " Well, let me not provoke the world to say 
 
 My learning left mc lonely" Edna scoffed. 
 
 And Thora, blazing, mentioned her who wrote 
 
 " Aurora Leigh," and her who mapped the heavens. 
 
 Had ever two such women died unwed ? 
 
 Then went off proudly gleeful for her first 
 
 And last Greek lesson, at her father's side. 
 
 The birds were singing in the dawn next day, 
 
 When Austen, racked with anguish, said farewell 
 
 To kith and kin, to all he had achieved, 
 
 To infant schemes and projects yet unborn, 
 
 Seized suddenly of Death. His children slipped 
 
 Asunder like unthreaded beads henceforth. 
 
 And his unloving wife harsh mother proved 
 
 To Thora, crude, imperfect creature, loth 
 
 To bow to her perfection ; problem strange, 
 
 She cared not to unriddle. One short word, 
 
 Like thistledown, revealed the north-east wind. 
 
 The sisters sat around a lamp one eve, 
 
 Which Thora's quick impatient movement felled : 
 
292 THORA 
 
 Her sleeve rushed up in flame, but she was saved ; 
 
 Thanked God first, and sought out her mother next. 
 
 And Adela said only, " Heedless girl ! 
 
 Dear Edna has been shaken with alarm." 
 
 Her firstborn's paltry fear weighed with her more 
 
 Than the dire peril of her youngest child. 
 
 Poor Thora, youth's unbridled hopes immerged 
 
 In measureless despair, laid down her head 
 
 On the closed Greek books in her father's room ; 
 
 Thought of her visioned volume, dedicate 
 
 To him who led her from the common plain 
 
 Toward breezy uplands of a larger life ; 
 
 And sobbed, " Oh, father, not one word of love 
 
 From thee, who hadst my heart before all else. 
 
 Shall I hear ever on this side the grave ! 
 
 Mother and sisters love me, I must fear, 
 
 As little as they understand my soul. 
 ' So I have only God, vast, distant Love, 
 I Needing a mirror in some human heart 
 >-Ere we can feed our hungry hearts withal." 
 
IPart IV 
 
 WOMANHOOD 
 
 Thora at twenty-five was one of three 
 Peopling the nest that once had compassed seven. 
 The gallant Walter perished, face to foe, 
 Widening the wide bounds of Britannia's rule ; 
 Adela, two years widowed, mourned him sore. 
 Vernon had cure of distant village souls, 
 Living in credit days with no strong hue. 
 While of his sisters one was wedded wife. 
 Hugh, with fat rentroll, sought a gentle thing 
 To soothe his feebleness of gathering eld ; V' 
 A pretty thing to adorn with all his gold ; 
 A thing to fondle by his calm fireside ; 
 And found all these in Dona, and for these 
 
294 THORA 
 
 Gives name and lands and ric^ attire, and adds, 
 Since woman must some helpless fondling have, 
 A milk-white greyhound in a silver chain. 
 Rachel preventing Leah chafed the soul 
 Of Edna, and she fastened on a youth 
 Who paid a casual homage at their house, 
 And let them say that she had been betrothed. 
 Thora was no more the unlessoned girl, 
 Openly scorning common social aims ; 
 Talking of Pallas with an aged don 
 Beneath the pitying eyes of kith and kin ; 
 Beating her foolish head 'gainst the blind bricks 
 Of dull convention that closed in her life. 
 She had reached after many things withheld, 
 Groping towards ideals far too vast 
 For her embrace, and yearning to outsoar 
 On wings of knowledge the confining wall. 
 Now, slowly learning that to stretch out wings 
 Were swift uncertain gain, so we must climb, 
 Being unwinged, and footsore win our way, 
 
THORA 295 
 
 By brake and cliff and bog to baffling peak, 
 If none can show us where the paths are cut ; 
 She climbed alone, in patient diligence. 
 Climbed with no boisterous blazon of her toil ; 
 But as we curtain o'er the imaged face 
 Of one we love, that those share not our sight 
 Who share not our affection, Thora hid 
 Her soul, and conned the art of trivial chat ; 
 Crude scorn of marriage passed her lips no more ; 
 She shrank from common banter on that theme, 
 As she had shrunk from those who laid rude hands 
 Upon the Holy Table of the Lord. 
 She shunned unlikeness to her kind in aught ; 
 Proving more like them than she guessed one day. 
 Reused on her birthday morn by countless birds 
 Twittering " Good-morrow " to ihe earliest sun 
 Of June, from slumbers healthful as their own. 
 She from her open window watched the trees, f 
 Swaying untarnished branches each on each, ^ 
 
 And drew in draughts of fragrant morning air, 
 
296 THORA 
 
 Till her whole being pulsed with joyous life. 
 The lawns, that drank their fill of grateful dew 
 Through the short night, sparkled with countless 
 
 gems 
 As the sun sifted out his threefold light 
 To countless dewdropg, and the hidden lark 
 Poured forth a torrent of wild melody ; 
 No wordless song, but echoing one name. 
 The sweetest human lips can utter — Love. 
 " He loves me." Dare she dream so bright a 
 
 dream. 
 Throbbing from head to foot with ecstasy. 
 First rapture of a holy, happy love, 
 Too vague to utter even in prayer to God ? 
 Yes, there was one for whom she lifted up 
 The veil that wrapped her from the common gaze : 
 Gerald, her father's kinsman, kin in mind 
 As in his noble lineage, lately come 
 From travel earned by gleaming college palms. 
 She felt his eyes upon her in a throng. 
 
THORA 297 
 
 And grew more beautiful beneath his gaze. 
 She found him waiting patient at her side 
 For chance of talk beyond the weary round 
 Of " He did," " She said," " They were surely here.'" 
 Gossip of mere acquaintance was not theirs, 
 Nor trifling flattery 'twixt man and maid. 
 But earnest converse of two human hearts, 
 Wherein God placed eternity, as saith 
 Koheleth : * how to find out conquering truth. 
 So that our life be more than meat, our joy 
 Greater than ease. She told him that she yearned 
 To sit at Plato's feet ; and then he brought 
 His well-worn Plato, and to " Phaedo " turned, 
 Asking her to accept a bust of him 
 Who into the profound of human thought 
 Had dropt so deep a plummet ; bringing too 
 A porcelain toy for Edna, and vague words ;, 
 
 Of pleasant evenings spent with Adela ; 
 Worshipping still the virgin pride which made 
 * Ecelesiastes iii. 11. Revised Version. - . . 
 
298 THORA 
 
 More clamorous love presumption. ThcJra found 
 
 Converse with him the richest she had known 
 
 Since Austen's cultured gentleness had passed 
 
 Out of her life, and reckoned up the days 
 
 To promised sojourn 'neath his mother's roof. 
 
 All else was in a luminous haze that hid 
 
 The fair Manoa whither she drew nigh, ' , 
 
 That golden city some have found on earth, 
 
 That some have scorned, and many sought in vain. 
 
 Till snatch of handmaids' gossip reached her ears 
 
 Touching herself and Edna. " Goods that lie 
 
 Beseeching purchase in the sun and rain 
 
 Are oft unsold, while others are fetched forth 
 
 For pleading buyers from the inner store. 
 
 Miss Thora will be first to wed, and rule 
 
 The castle that she visits ; if my lord 
 
 Has his way she will be my lady soon." 
 
 As Thora from her window leaned that morn 
 Light fell on much that had been dark before. 
 She thought of the loved father she had lost, 
 
THORA 299 
 
 Of the cold-hearted mother whom in vain 
 
 She tried to love, and how against her will 
 
 Edna had made her strange. Then dreamed of life 
 
 Lighted by hourly lavished love of one 
 
 To whom she was supreme in all the world. 
 
 Womanhood woke within her as she knew 
 
 'Tis sweet to take and sweeter still to give 
 
 Bounty untold of all the love we hold 
 
 Dammed up for lack of outlet till it seethes. 
 
 " Oh, let me lose myself, to find myself 
 
 In one far greater ! Let me spend my days 
 
 To halve his loads and double all his joys ; 
 
 Till two lives welded each to each shall shape 
 
 Both incomplete unto a perfect whole ; 
 
 Each raising each by mutual love and trust, 
 
 Till both become what each deems each to be. 
 
 Till the lone stream that forced its troubled way 
 
 Through tangled channel and o'er boulders rude 
 
 Glide into the still lake, and happy flow 
 
 Embraced by wider waters than its own." 
 
300 THORA 
 
 Souls grow by such new thoughts and such sweet 
 
 dreams, 
 Though the awaking be to dreary day. 
 
 News ! He whom Edna claimed as all her own 
 Wedded another. Edna gave one cry, 
 " I have lived long enough," i id hid herself 
 r the turret chamber. Two hours later came 
 A scared handmaiden, who had plucked her back 
 From the bare ledge whence she would hurl herself. 
 So saved her for this world a further space 
 Who had untimely dashed against the doors 
 That shut out the encompassing unknown. 
 In midst of which we live our little lives. 
 Dim doors, whose hinges ever hither turn 
 To let the dying crowd pass out thereat ; 
 But never turned they thither that the dead 
 Come back, save once when One drew nigh to 
 
 them, 
 The only one of all the sons of men 
 Who died because He willed to die, since Death 
 
THORA 301 
 
 Could never claim Him who was sinless else. 
 Then those dread portals fell before His might, 
 And souls that fluttered on the threshold passed 
 Out into sunlight ; and He filled that realm, 
 Where spirits dwell unseen, with such a ray 
 From His pure presence that He left it bright 
 To all for whom He conquered Death henceforth. 
 
 Edna, snatched sudden back to life, returned 
 Slowly to reason ; but that maddened deed 
 Could never more for Thora be undone. 
 See her now proved and humbled in the vale 
 Of her decision, when she paced the lawn 
 Pondering this letter : " Thora dear, we count 
 Upon your promised visit. Come alone, 
 If Edna's recent illness leaves her weak." 
 Things seen and heard and guessed whirled through 
 
 her brain : 
 Adela's mother passed from sight of all 
 In Thora's childhood ; her abode was veiled 
 In vaguest phrase ; nor was she greatly wept 
 
302 THORA 
 
 When she deceased, because her body lived 
 
 Too long, a prison-house of aspect drear 
 
 That mocked the purpose of the informing soul. 
 
 The taint of madness oftener passes on 
 
 To children's children than to children ; so 
 
 Dona in dawning womanhood had gone 
 
 To strange seclusion ; 'twas explained at last ; 
 
 Together with that word concerning her, 
 
 Departing bride, " She'll be a childless wife, 
 
 *Tis well." She thought of Edna's wild weird 
 
 ways, 
 And of the gusts of passion sweeping o'er 
 Her own soul, only to be calmed by prayer. 
 Now, should she let that seedling plant of love 
 Grow till he asked and had, and she should bring 
 Upon the honoured house of him she loved 
 A curse for dowry ? Should he ask in vain. 
 And deem her heartless since she could not say, 
 " I love not," nor disclose that secret dread ? 
 The lips of all who knew were sealed with gold. 
 
THORA 303 
 
 " Oh, Gerald ! do I love you now so well 
 
 That you must never utterly love me ; 
 
 And must we never meet again, lest love 
 
 Grow up between us irreversibly ? " 
 
 She stood as on a Highland ridge that parts 
 
 A smiling pasture grazed by happy flocks 
 
 And set in murmuring woods and waving corn, 
 
 Yellowing 'neath tranquil sunshine, from a moor 
 
 Bare save for horrid rocks, where gathering clouds 
 
 Empty them pitiless on the barren ground. 
 
 Free at that moment, never free again, 
 
 To go down either slope ; her choice of life 
 
 Before her. Then she poured out all her soul 
 
 In throbbing prayer. " O God, our wills are weak, 
 
 Our flesh is weaker than our wills. Give grace, 
 
 And I will dash the untasted cup of joy 
 
 From my dry lips, if 'tis not filled by Thee." 
 
 But Gerald's mother grieved to miss her guest 
 And grudged that she must travel forth to please 
 Adcla's whim for selfish Edna's health. 
 
304 TIIORA 
 
 So Thora made her ready to depart 
 
 For two years' exile, glad to crowd her days 
 
 And leave no space for thought. They brought 
 
 to her 
 A letter from her girlhood's dearest friend 
 As she put out to sea, wherein she read 
 Myra in three short months will be a bride. 
 " She will go down the sunny side of life, 
 While roses pouring o'er the garden wall 
 Bend fragrant clusters toward her as she moves 
 Amid men's benedictions, in the light 
 Of one great love that is her own for aye. 
 While I go down the shady side alone 
 For evermore, and withered leaflets torn 
 From trees autumnal ere the summer ends 
 Dance in my path before the stripping wind. 
 Oh, let my love for her be strong enough 
 To cast out envy ! I rejoice for her, 
 Hiding my heart from the harsh world that sees 
 In me a scorner of the holiest joys 
 
THORA 305 
 
 That fall to woman ; while the years stretch out 
 
 To the blank future, and my surging thoughts 
 
 Die childless, as I die, no kindred mind 
 
 Quickening them into purpose. Once I cried 
 
 In girlhood, I had only God, and longed 
 
 To know His love through human love ; but now 
 
 In unrecorded sacrifice to right, 
 
 I cast away the dearest thing on earth, 
 
 Suffering loss of love for love's sweet sake. 
 
 Then God shall be my All, so He but use 
 
 My life in work for Him and His, and fill 
 
 My craving heart with His unmeasured love." 
 
 ^1 , , ■■ ■^'■; ,. 
 
 20 
 
part V 
 
 FAME 
 
 Thora was thirty-five when she attained 
 
 Her childhood's dream of fame for man's work 
 
 done j 
 
 And man's reward achieved. There are who hold 
 
 No woman should be sung, whose golden dawn 
 
 Has passed into the greyer sky of noon. 
 
 Rightly, if woman can fulfil her end 
 
 Ministering to the lower self of man. 
 
 If houri for his pastime, let us sing 
 
 Peach bloom and sparkling eyes of earliest youth. 
 
 If squaw to ease him of life's lowlier tasks 
 
 And roast what he hath taken in the chase, 
 
 Sing of her youthful strength and scorn her age. 
 
 306 
 
THORA 307 
 
 But if the man and woman are alike, 
 
 Undying spirits lodged in fleshly tents 
 
 That each lift other to a higher life, 
 
 Then added years are added gain for both. 
 
 So we who tell the story of a soul 
 
 Writing its record on an aging face, 
 
 Note peach bloom withering in the taint of that 
 
 Which maketh for unrighteousness, or else 
 
 Transfigured into beauty ne'er attained 
 
 In half-awakened, untaught girlhood's days ; 
 
 Drawn upward by no formless Power for good, 
 
 But by the Being who alone is good. 
 
 And made His creatures unto holiness. 
 
 Thora grew homeless when she might have won 
 A home for all her days, and wept farewell 
 To Austen's study, sweet with memories, 
 
 « 
 
 Gathering her heritage from out its shelves. 
 Then wandered with her kindred, wandering still, 
 Wherefore they knew not, when to port they 
 steered ; 
 
308 THORA 
 
 Roaming through many lands with open eyes, 
 Learning new races and new languages, 
 Waiting for news that, Gerald's fancy spent. 
 He made another happiest wife on earth. 
 So five years passed, until she stood again 
 A stranger in the greatest City's throng. 
 Bidden by a friend she made beyond the seas 
 To a strange house to meet an unknown 
 
 group. 
 There, 'mid the clash of music, she o'erheard 
 The hostess welcoming her guest of guests, 
 " Give me the joy of bringing face to face 
 Two clever friends. I trust she still is here." 
 And then came tones that thrilled her through and 
 
 through, 
 *' My fair kinswoman. Has she then returned ? " 
 Louder the music clashed, and through it rang 
 A voice, " Stay but a moment till it cease. 
 You yet may be the happiest woman born. 
 Let not a baseless scruple wreck his life." 
 
THORA 309 
 
 That voice prevailed not. From the house she 
 
 . passed, 
 A lonely woman, lost in London's sea. 
 And the world wondered Gerald did not wed. 
 
 Then five more uneventful years rolled on, 
 And she grew lonelier. Vernon brought a bride 
 To an ivied parsonage ; and Adela 
 Ended her days beside his hearth, well-pleased 
 That Edna had attained her goal at last. 
 By wedding one younger in years than she, 
 Though older than she named herself to him, 
 Donning her girlish bridal bravery, 
 In days when Thora likewise reached her goal. 
 She sits among her books, with Plato's bust 
 For sole adornment of her busy room. 
 Her letters come, kindling her face with joy. 
 " My book, the darling offspring of my thought, 
 Sells fast, and they commend it ; better still, 
 It promises to light in this world's gloom 
 
310 THORA 
 
 A little candle that the wayfarer 
 
 May bless me for, who else had lost his road. 
 
 Again — and yet again — they ask for more 
 
 From the bold pen that wrote on " Woman's Call,' 
 
 And claimed for her what Time shall yet concede. 
 
 I have done more than I had hoped to do. 
 
 So has God turned my loss to higher gain 
 
 For other women, and I live to prove 
 
 There may be room and honour in the world 
 
 For the unwed whose lives are fruitful found." 
 
 Fair Myra entered as she thus rejoiced, 
 
 Bringing her smallest son and fragrant flowers ; 
 
 " For you must know that praise of Myra's friend 
 
 In all men's lips is Myra's happiness. 
 
 We, who could never think your clever thoughts, 
 
 Are proud a woman thinks them, envying you." 
 
 So Myra ever like the sunshine fell 
 
 On Thora's path, reflecting from her face 
 
 Tranquil felicity of homely life, 
 
 Lived out by those the world will never name ; 
 
THORA 311 
 
 Yet envying the famous, not with dumb 
 
 And sullen envy, nearly all blind grief 
 
 You should have that I taste not nor deserve ; 
 
 But generous envy, nearly all pure joy 
 
 Outspoken, that your cup is brimming o'er, 
 
 Be mine or full or empty, since I love 
 
 You, with the love that longs to give, and longs 
 
 Thai others likewise love and give to you. 
 
 Now, while they talked on the exhaustless theme 
 Of Thora's book, the child had fallen asleep ; 
 Whom Thora gathered in her arms at length, 
 And bore, scarce wakened, to his little car. 
 Then, when its wheels went echoing down the 
 
 street, 
 A strangely sudden cloud o'ercast her sky. 
 Cloudless an hour ago. So I have seen 
 A lake, as gentian blue, as mirror calm. 
 Turn in a moment, when the envious grey 
 Rolls from the hilltop, into leaden-hued 
 And restless ripples. Thora bowed her head, 
 
312 THORA 
 
 Weeping the unheeded tears of lonely grief. 
 Sudden uplifting often searches out, 
 Like sudden sorrow, tracts left unexplored 
 In common days. She read herself anew 
 In a new light from those blue eyes, half-veiled 
 By sleepy lids, that flushed cheek on her face. 
 And those warm arms laid trustful on her neck. 
 " Envy me ! She, to whom that nursling cried, 
 ' Mother,' and leapt from out my arms to hers ! " 
 Then waters bubbled from the deepest fount 
 Of her emotion, whence the stone was rolled. 
 " O Myra, radiant in your growing joy, 
 I deemed you happy when your love was won ; 
 Yet happier when I met you, new-made wife. 
 Amid the chestnuts at Fiesole ; 
 Yet happier when the tardy spring had come > 
 To mild San Remo first, where oft we saw 
 That pretty babe whose pale young mother died, 
 At sight of whom I marked your beaming face 
 Lit with the secret of a coming joy. 
 
THORA 313 
 
 Beautiful, beautifying motherhood ; 
 
 Your being ripened by strong love called forth, 
 
 Renewing youth once more as each new babe 
 
 Cried to you in its gladly succoured need. 
 
 While faster than its wont the fleeting bloom 
 
 Of maidenhood we women prize did fleet 
 
 From lips that never knew a lover's kiss. 
 
 And cheeks that dimpled fingers ne'er caressed. 
 
 Mine is an unwept loss, and yet methinks 
 
 One greater than the loss they bade me weep, 
 
 Telling last week of four Septembers past 
 
 The first when Gwennyth showed upon her hand 
 
 Love's glittering pledge, and playful pity claimed 
 
 For all her sisters, ' Whosoe'er they wed 
 
 The noblest of mankind is mine alone.' 
 
 The second when a plainer pledge turned troth 
 
 To wedlock, and farewell to girlhood came. 
 
 The third when two linked lives made common 
 
 joy 
 
 Over the new life given to their charge. 
 
314 THORA 
 
 The fourth when death did part till death is past 
 
 Those whom God joined, and severed for a space 
 
 To knit again the ravelled web of love 
 
 When all is made anew for all whose death 
 
 Is but the portal to a larger life, 
 
 A deeper love and an abiding joy. 
 
 Weep for her ! She has been a happy wife, 
 
 She is a blessed mother still, and knows 
 
 Our Lord's own symbol of intensest bliss. 
 
 * Poor Gwennyth ! ' do they idly say ? I cry, 
 
 ' Rich Gwennyth ! ' If I must bemoan a lot 
 
 Let it be Brenda's ; note her empty past 
 
 And dreary future, blank of human love. 
 
 A rich man's child reared to be rich man's wife, 
 
 Untaught in aught that teaches, but equipped 
 
 With flimsiest accomplishments for show ; 
 
 Drifting from flower to flower in balmy spring 
 
 Of thoughtless youth, until her plumes were 
 
 dimmed 
 By fresher butterflies that shared her lawn. 
 
THORA 315 
 
 Her father died ; her brother took a wife ; 
 She left the spacious home with all its mirth, 
 Lived in a little house a narrow life, 
 Narrowing each season, tended by a maid, 
 Two songsters and a cat for company ; 
 The dew of youth and morning all exhaled. 
 The chillier dews of evening not yet fallen ; 
 Not poor enough to find in daily bread 
 A summons to attempt, nor rich enough 
 To roam the world in quest of new delights ; 
 Ignorance and conventions of her caste 
 Cutting her off from joy in enterprise 
 Of deed worth doing ; waking morn by morn 
 To aimless days ; and longing cill in vain 
 That she were needed by one human soul. 
 
 " When a man, strong in self-control, lives out 
 A single life, owning no woman's love 
 Save his inheritance of mother's kiss 
 And sister's calm affection, when his lips 
 Have never met the warmth of other lips. 
 
3i6 THORA 
 
 Chosen from all the world and wooed and won, 
 
 His love goes out on some great work for man, 
 
 For God's sake and his brother's ; wedding this, 
 
 As did the prophet priest of Anathoth, 
 
 Or Plato, or Saint Francis long ago, 
 
 Or Melanesia's martyred bishop now ; 
 
 Then all men honour his devoted zeal. 
 
 And even if he marries humbler toil, 
 
 And his dull days and strangled cravings prove 
 
 It is not g'»oH. that man should be alone ; 
 
 None judge his choice of life nor hold him cheap. 
 
 But all will point the ready gibe at her 
 
 Who dies ' old maid,' departing undesired, 
 
 Like Joram, who outwore his people's love. 
 
 Gone is the simple happiness of old. 
 
 When each young maiden was besought of some, 
 
 And each might hope to make a home and know 
 
 A husband's care and children at her knee. 
 
 But now the lads go even beyond the bounds 
 
 Of our world-girdling empire, from the isle 
 
 ( ■. 
 
THORA 317 
 
 Too narrow for adventure, work, and gain, 
 Laying foundations in some virgin soil 
 For future homes when unborn maids are wived. 
 Meanwhile the maids these wanderers might have 
 
 won 
 Shrivel at home, like plants in cellars reared, 
 Wherein the sun and air can take no joy, 
 Their love unclaimed, their lives devoid of aim. 
 And modern gaslights shame the tender glow 
 Of mediaeval lamps that lit the brows 
 Of maids with worshipped radiance all their days. 
 Ah ! those old times when God's world first shook 
 
 off 
 License of Paganism, as a man 
 Shakes off a glittering snake whose guileful tongue 
 Plays in his bosom with intent to wound, 
 Exalted mere virginity as first 
 Foothold to sainthood, and with mystic zeal 
 Wove round the Virgin who bore God fine wefts 
 Of legend, fair and fleeting as the veil 
 
318 THORA 
 
 Of summer gossamer, wherein they saw 
 (Fond fancy) fragments of Our Lady's shroud, 
 Dropped earthward when she was upborne to 
 
 Heaven, 
 The crowning day of Christian womanhood .♦ 
 
 But we have wakened ; these dim dreams are fled, 
 And holy wedlock claims its rightful place 
 As symbol of the mysteries of God ; 
 With awful obligation, Give away 
 All that thou hast, and yield thee body and soul, 
 Heartwhole surrender thou hast vowed to one, 
 Fearless, undoubting in thine utter trust ; 
 Then take the untold wealth of unguessed love 
 That can enrich thy life beyond all dreams. 
 Christ and His Church are shadowed by such 
 
 bonds. 
 But loveless life is like a torrent bed, 
 Barren and dusty, till the prisoned spring, 
 
 * In accordance with this mediaeval fancy, "Gossamer 
 to be a corruption of " God's mother." 
 
THORA . 319 
 
 Ycarninfj to lose itself in ocean's deeps, 
 Gush sunlit from the heights, and warble down 
 The dry defile, making it laugh with bloom. 
 Primrose and grass and fern and scented thyme. 
 Such might have been my life, and none had 
 
 blamed 
 Save God's own voice of conscience in my soul. 
 Now the harsh world thinks I would dare contemn 
 Unoffered blessings, as I pitied once 
 The pretty face, light heart, unfurnished head, 
 And low ambition of the average girl. 
 Are there not tears that soothe and tears that 
 
 sting ? 
 And mine are tears that sting. O mocking Fame, 
 Your dazzling phantom lured me once ; but now 
 'Twixt me and you a golden childish head 
 Tells me that Shakespeare's fame were not enough 
 To fill a woman's heart, or match the joy 
 A toiling peasant knows whose ruddy babe 
 Coos for caresses when her work is done. 
 
320 THORA 
 
 And yet there is who casts her babe aside 
 
 To hirelings, wearying of her last new toy, 
 
 So that it grow up one more useless man. 
 
 One more ungrateful mother's lost reward, 
 
 While all the unused passion of my soul 
 
 Lies strangling with abiding sense of loss. 
 
 God, feed the hungry hearts that Thou hast made, 
 
 Or we go starved and feeble all our days ! 
 
 Christ, comfort me, who unto one meek Maid 
 
 Once gav'st the purest joy of motherhood 
 
 That ever woman knew on Thy sad earth ! " 
 
 " Yes, you have laboured unto weariness. 
 Lay pen aside and leave the unquiet town. 
 Then health and spirits will again be yours." 
 So Thora took this counsel, and retired 
 Whither her father ofttimes loved to go, 
 And bade them lay him for his last long sleep, 
 In God's calm country, whose slow rivers slip 
 By undulating mead and dusky copse. 
 
THORA 321 
 
 'Twas evening on the day the faithful keep 
 
 Sacred to Christ, risen from death thereon. 
 
 And Thora worshipped in the Httle church, 
 
 Beneath the semblance of her ancestor, 
 
 Who poured out gold and blood to serve the King 
 
 When rude rebellion shook the fevered state. 
 
 The murmured music of the evening hymn 
 
 Floats o'er the churchyard from the opened panes. 
 
 And as they leave, glad faces tell of hearts 
 
 Lifted by prayer from earth. The peaceful scene 
 
 Swims in the radiance of the westering sun. 
 
 Till even common things are glorified. 
 
 Then Thora threads, waistdeep in yellowing corn, 
 
 The little path across the hill, and sees 
 
 A village lad and maiden, arms entwined. 
 
 Tasting the Paradise young lovers know, 
 
 As all the woe that grew from Adam's sin 
 
 Were a bad dream they had awakened from. 
 
 While lonely Thora, on whose love none leaned 
 
 Since Austen died, was passing to her grave, 
 
 21 
 
322 THORA 
 
 Where love and hate alike are quenched in gloom, 
 With none to ask the love she had to give. 
 Now came she to a cot beset with clumps 
 Of cheerful, homely flowers ; creepers flung 
 Bright petals o'er the casement ; in the porch 
 Rested a blind and aged village dame, 
 Her toilworn hands folded upon her knee, 
 In this still sabbath evening of her life. 
 And on the doorstep sat three little maids, 
 Singing a hymn for childish joy of song. 
 " Yes, Jesus loves me," was its glad refrain. 
 The love of God had been in Thora's ears 
 Since first she learned the simple text with glee. 
 And bore the sermon on it, deadly dull. 
 Envying the flies that o'er the tablets buzzed 
 And danced while she sat still in the tall pew. 
 And in her chamber hung a picture, limned 
 By an early master, of the Cross whereon 
 God stooped to save, Man lifted up mankind. - 
 Knowing that this great Love had been, she made 
 
THORA 323 
 
 Her prayer at morn and eve ; but the child's song 
 Flashed on her as a heaven-sent bird might shoot 
 Into a fog-encompassed atmosphere, 
 Which only ravens haunted heretofore, 
 Its plumage painted by the lavish sun 
 Of far-off tropics. To her heart of hearts 
 The message reached, and bore her on the tide 
 Of high emotion, echoing the words 
 Of Shulammith, the humble village maid. 
 Besought by the great King of Israel 
 (Bright in the undimmed splendour of his youth. 
 Whom all men did beseech), for stately neck 
 As white as David's tower, soft doves' eyes. 
 And feet that shone in Mahanaim's dance, 
 The lowly object of a lofty love. 
 Fronting that homage, humbly proud to say, 
 ** Lo, my Beloved is mine and I am his." 
 Thora's heart sang : " I go not undesired, 
 The infinite Redeemer asks my love, 
 \ And deigns to need the meanest He has made." 
 
 / 
 
IPatt VI 
 
 WHEREUNT01 
 
 Thora is forty-five, when once again 
 We meet the sisters of our lengthening tale, 
 Maid, wife, and widow. Edna cries as wife, 
 Vainly desiring she were still a maid, 
 " May I be widow or he widower soon ! " 
 Now she had married for the matron's name, 
 Ralph to repair his fortunes with her gold. 
 Each object was attained ; then, why lament 
 That what they sought not was not likewise 
 
 found ? 
 But if 'tis woman's highest lot to find 
 Nobler ideal in a noble real. 
 
 Moulding the real by her faith and hope 
 
 324 
 
THORA 325 
 
 And love to that ideal day by day, 
 Till latent evil dies and latent good 
 Springs forth triumphant ; 'tis her deepest woe 
 To sell herself for sustenance or pomp, 
 Vowing the utter fealty of wife 
 To one scarce known, or honoured not at all. 
 If holy wedlock is in Heaven made ; 
 This wedlock's fetters must be forged in hell. 
 Near Hugh's tall mausoleum Dona's days 
 Flowed on uncounted in their placid ebb. 
 She trod life's highway, worn by million feet. 
 With dainty step and delicate garb, and men 
 Praised that she walked the lower path so well. 
 While Thora flung aside the gauds of ease, 
 Breasted the lonely mountain, stumbling oft 
 And halting on the rugged, pathless side, 
 Yet ever climbing toward the wider view. 
 And half the world exclaimed, " Why climb at 
 
 all?" 
 And half, " Why climbs she not more cunningly ? " 
 
326 THORA 
 
 Yet she held on and cut a path, and then 
 Our sisters followed her, till climbing grew 
 A common thing, and one brave life aimed high 
 Had lifted higher many another life. 
 While in her children's childhood ever young, 
 Fair Myra bent again and yet again 
 Over the cradle filled with such rich freight, 
 Time writ no envious wrinkles on her brow. 
 That gracious, gentle woman was a tomb 
 For scandal, and a sounding rock for praise. 
 Thora stood sponsor to her eldest child. 
 The eager Una, sending her at length 
 To the College she had share in shaping forth 
 And ruling, latest fruit of the new age ; 
 Glad that the longings she had longed in vain 
 Were satisfied for happier girls than she. 
 But Una never guessed her mother lived 
 Six months ere Thora saw the light, so worn 
 And faded looked the old maid by the wife. 
 The autumn of her life drew on, that hushed 
 
THORA 327 
 
 The joyous carol of the summer birds, 
 Soaring on light wing into clearest heaven. 
 And born of August's thirsty heat came forth, 
 With restless buzz, myriads of stinging gnats, 
 Unnumbered stings of vain regret and buzz \ 
 
 Of countless petty cares in middle life. 
 Youth's dreams die hard, but find a grave at last 'l 
 In silence, as the noiseless years move swift. 
 Each swifter than the last, till all is still. 
 Dusty routine dulls mind and heart, and life 
 Grows tame, as the great river's final reach 
 Far from the foam and fury of its rise 
 Among the hills that look towards the sun. 
 She has outlived girlhood's desire to know 
 And keen enthusiasm for high thought ; 
 She has outlived the hungering to do 
 Deeds that should echo down the aisles of Time ; 
 And even the craving for the cup of love 
 Dashed from her lips ere sipped, the dumb heart- 
 ache 
 
328 THORA 
 
 • 
 
 Missing man's love to lean on and child's love 
 
 To lean on her, a woman's deepest need. 
 
 She has not what she might have had ; worse 
 
 loss, 
 She is not what she might have been. They say, 
 Marking ungainly harshness in old maids, 
 Like o'er-ripe fruit that shrivels up unplucked, 
 *' None would desire such women." Rather say, 
 "•Theirs was the unlit sky of solitude. 
 Such women wedded prove as perfect souls 
 As others mellowed by warm suns of home." 
 And faded was the vision of God's love 
 Shining upon her on that holy eve. 
 Life's best was not her lot, but hers was much 
 Which other women, missing what she missed, 
 Possessed not : well-filled purse and wide repute, 
 High place, congenial work, and friendly friends. 
 So sought she sisters poorer than herself ; 
 Ellen, for instance, with her scanty means 
 And toilsome life despite her gentle birth. 
 
THORA 329 
 
 Thora and she breathed first in one bright June ; 
 
 But she, the village parson's eldest child, 
 
 Made honest efifort in a little groove, 
 
 Shut out from much that girls deserving less 
 
 Took as bare right— of culture, luxury. 
 
 Leisure, and adulation — nor complained ; 
 
 Patient bread-winning filling all her days. 
 
 In Myra's cheerful schoolroom mainly spent. 
 
 Until her slender stock of lore and health 
 
 Ran dry, and all her kinsfolk passed away, 
 
 And Myra sent their youngest child to school. 
 
 Finding for her a pension and one room. 
 
 Now thither came, as to a sanctuary. 
 
 Souls held in debt or bondage or distress ; 
 
 Comfortless trouble of the needy won 
 
 Hearing and soothing ; and a benison 
 
 Flowed forth on many whom she humbly deemed 
 
 Were blessing her by visiting her couch. 
 
 Of such was Thora, pointed to by men 
 
 As one who made the new age what it is 
 
330 THORA 
 
 Whose "Woman's Call" had proved a powerful hand 
 
 To lift the car of progress from the ruts 
 
 Of time-worn custom, till the Toy and Drudge 
 
 Of centuries become the crowned Queen. 
 
 Thora was one of many a moving force 
 
 Acting on many ; Ellen for a few 
 
 Was the impelling power of their lives. 
 
 And Thora loved her well, and told to her 
 
 At length, one day, the story of her life. 
 
 Then she who never chose the words that sound 
 
 Sweet to the hearer, murmured with a tear 
 
 And kiss, " 'Twas truly, nobly, rarely done.' 
 
 And Thora lived upon that comfort long. 
 
 " Honours list headed by a woman : " text 
 
 For a discourse from Thora's facile pen 
 
 Till daylight languished with her thoughts thereon. 
 
 Then she stepped forth, the lines upon her brow 
 
 Writ deep with trace of quest unsatisfied. 
 
 For heartening converse with the gentle friend 
 
THORA 331 
 
 Whose pallid face said, " Peace and joy have come 
 
 As inmates, not as passing guests to me." 
 
 Ellen in deepening dusk she found alone. 
 
 " 'Tis double joy to see you on a day 
 
 I have not crossed the threshold." " Well I know 
 
 Dear friend, whose ailing grieves me to the soul, 
 
 That, be it here or with the church's choir, 
 
 When twilight comes, you sing your evensong." 
 
 " Ay, song indeed, for when I go to God 
 
 Praise must prevent petition, as I name 
 
 The loving-kindness He hath given me 
 
 According to His mercies, finding still 
 
 Far more to thank Him than to ask Him for." 
 
 (They sat in darkness, talking with hearts bare. 
 
 As chiefest friends bare not their hearts in light. , 
 
 " Ellen, you shame my praise perfunctory. 
 
 We both have missed the woman's highest joy ; 
 
 Otherwise, life has had few pangs for me. 
 
 And many pangs for you. Yet from your lips 
 
 A daily paean of thanksgiving swells, 
 
332 THORA 
 
 While I can seldom reach a mere content." 
 
 " Is there indeed a worse and better lot, 
 
 When all our lots are shaped by Love Supreme ? " 
 
 " The All-wise Potter maketh not to mar, 
 
 But surely we may thwart God's purposes, 
 
 Failing to see or heedless of His Will." 
 
 " Nay, Thora, you are loyal to our God." 
 
 " God's service has been in my lips and thoughts, 
 
 But all I tried to do had still been done 
 
 To happier issues through a nobler aim 
 
 Had I ne'er been. The girlhood of to-day 
 
 Grows on the new-cleared soil, but my rash hand. 
 
 Plucking up weeds, has haply torn away 
 
 Some modest but most fragrant flowers too : 
 
 Gentleness, tenderness, meek piety. 
 
 They called me learned Thora, but methinks 
 
 The meanest woman who has loved and known 
 
 Husband's companionship and borne a child 
 
 Hath wider outlook upon real I'^e, 
 
 Learning in schools whose doors are closed to me. 
 
THORA 333 
 
 I, doing good work ill, have hindered those 
 
 Who else had done it well. I fondly dreamed 
 
 God hired me for the service of His world, 
 
 But He may yet disown my faulty task." 
 
 " I too have plied for hire through weary hours, 
 
 Until in bondage I found liberty. 
 
 The hireling's task and meed were all too mean 
 
 For God to give His servants." Thora said, 
 
 " Unriddle this dark saying, O my friend." 
 
 " I can but say the lesson God has taught 
 
 Line upon line in simplest words to me," 
 
 Said Ellen. " Know the hireling owns himself. 
 
 Selling his labour at his will for wage. 
 
 The bondman cannot sell himself or his ; 
 
 Being purchased by another, all his life 
 
 Is ordered for him, all his service due 
 
 When, where, and howsoe'er his owner wills. 
 
 O depth of misery when man to man 
 
 Is bondman ! But what height of bliss when we, 
 
 Bought by the blood of the Unspotted Lamb, 
 
334 THORA 
 
 I Yield ourselves wholly unto God's good Will, 
 To use as God can use the wholly given ; 
 Leaving us free to give or to withhold, 
 Since sovereign will is that which makes us men ! 
 Now to His greater glory and our joy, 
 He works His loving purposes for man 
 Through man alone, using the yielded soul. 
 Were all His servants given thus to Him, 
 Soon all on earth would do our Master's will." 
 Said Thora, " Means to accomplish, seen results. 
 Are not true measure of our work for God. 
 While I have burnished candlesticks and shaped 
 More cunning lamps within God's holy House, 
 You have made human hearts true * Ariels,' 
 True * hearths of God,' * by kindling altar flames 
 From fires aglow within you evermore." 
 " God's ways are not our ways. When first I gave 
 Me wholly unto God, and power asked 
 To serve Him more than ever heretofore, 
 * Isaiah xxix. i, R.V. 
 
THORA 335 
 
 He laid His hand upon me and removed 
 
 My only riches, health to earn my bread. 
 
 So I was like the king who cried of old, 
 
 ' Lord, I would fight for Thee. But how go forth 
 
 Shorn of the mighty army I had hired 
 
 With all those toil-won talents for Thy war ? ' 
 
 And still the man of God said, ' Go. Be strong, 
 
 With God to friend, for He can give much more 
 
 Than all that host to thee.' So has He given 
 
 New wealth of friends, new work of comforting 
 
 Sad hearts with comfort that had heartened me. 
 
 } For God is ever better than our hopes, 
 And saves us from the fears He puts to shame. 
 Give yourself wholly into His dear hands, 
 
 i And He will bless you with best work for Him." 
 
 Then Thora went her way and sat alone. 
 While epoch-making thoughts whirled through her brain ; 
 Till midnight hush had fallen upon the town. 
 The archer sleeps not with his bowstring taut. 
 So Thora, ere she laid her down to rest. 
 
336 .THORA 
 
 Seeking for aught to bear her thoughts away 
 From self and daily work and London's air, 
 Opened a book at random on this tale, 
 From o'er the Atlantic fifty years ago. 
 
 " Two thousand souls throng in the market place, 
 Keen buyers and a curious crowd at gaze ; 
 And in the midst a maid exceeding fair. 
 In the first radiant dawn of womanhood. 
 Great eyes whose passionate appeal shines out 
 Through lashes on a rich-hued velvet cheek ; 
 A tall, lithe form instinct with health and grace. 
 Marble one moment, fear has stiffened limbs 
 And snatched away her breath ; the next, a tide 
 Of crimson shame mantles her queenly neck. 
 For know one sixty-fourth of all her blood 
 Is African, and for that helpless sin 
 Food of those hungry pitiless eyes she stands. 
 Sold like a filly or a heifer, mould 
 Of flesh and blood for pleasure or for gain 
 To whoso pays her price to the harsh hag, 
 
THORA 337 
 
 Jealous of her handmaiden's winsomeness. 
 That price goes up till none can bid again 
 Save two — a short-necked man with forty years 
 Of slavery to sin writ on his face, 
 Who eyes her like a beast of prey, with skill 
 Of serving Satan which the beasts have not ; 
 And a young man whose still pale face conceals 
 His thoughts upon that peerless damsel's doom, 
 Unavenged outrage, unrequited toil. 
 She cannot suffer wrong, since cruel taint 
 In her proud English blood leaves her no rights. 
 He hears the coarse appraisement of her charms, 
 Flinching. These traffickers in human woe 
 Call themselves Saxons, Freedom's onl} heirs ! 
 Call themselves Christ's, released from swaddling 
 
 bands 
 Of superstition into broadest day ! 
 Half his whole wealth is staked upon his bid ; 
 The dealer bids again, an evil smile 
 Of triumph on his lips ; the trembling girl 
 
 22 
 
338 THORA ' 
 
 Grasps air for aught to let the life-tide out 
 From her white side before he calls her his, 
 And agonising like a drowning wretch, 
 Turns her dark eyes upon the younger man. 
 Once more he bids, the dealer leers and flees ; 
 And as her buyer o'er her swooning bends, 
 The seller says, " Well, you have got her cheap. 
 What will you do with your fair bargain now ? " 
 Then, with the light of Christ upon his face, 
 That true knight answers, " I shall set her free." * 
 Next morning Thora rose betimes and went 
 
 To meet Christ in the hush of His own day. 
 
 And kneeling at the banquet of His grace, 
 
 Sighted a summit of the hill of God 
 
 Unseen at lower levels of the ascent. 
 
 " I cried in wayward girlhood, * God, be mine ; 
 
 God, make me happy, I will serve Thee well.' 
 
 In womanhood, I took the love of God 
 
 * See Review of Reviews, September 1891. The incident took 
 place in May 1834, and was related by the Rev. Calvin Fairbanks, 
 
THORA 339 
 
 For my rich, satisfying heritage ; 
 
 And from the soils that fed them not I plucked 
 
 My fibres of affection painfully ; 
 
 Praying that they might root in the rich earth 
 
 Of God's great lovingkindness unto me. 
 
 But now, as Shulammith's first rapturous cry, 
 
 ' Lo, my Beloved is mine and I am his,' 
 
 Led to a deeper joy and higher life, 
 
 * Lo, I am my Beloved's and his desire 
 Is toward me,' so I learn a better prayer. 
 
 * Give ' cannot bring the blessing brought by 
 
 ' Take.' 
 Doubly Thy creature — born Thy child, since Thou 
 Art Father of our spirits ; bought again. 
 Since Thou art our Redeemer — I am Thine 
 By deed of gift I sign and seal to-day. 
 Take me and use me where and how Thou wilt ; 
 Work out Thy will through my surrendered will.' 
 Rapt in devotion, Thora hid her eyes. 
 But through the reverent quiet of the church 
 
340 THORA 
 
 The bitter cry of bartered flesh and blood 
 Rang in her ears ; the vision of the mart 
 Haunted her eyes, with all once heard or read 
 Of wrongs to helpless, dusky sons of Ham, 
 Shipped into toilsome exile by the greed 
 Of men more savage and more strong than 
 
 they, 
 Their bodies given to whip and manacle. 
 Their souls to dumb revenge and baffled hate 
 And lawless impulse, raging uncontrolled 
 In men degraded by unlawful bonds. 
 " 'Tis one of earth's huge sorrows, buried now. 
 Ere I was born their cry went up to God, 
 Who hates oppression, and defends the poor. 
 Loudly He spake to Britain, and she rose 
 And cut that cancer from her commonwealth. 
 Later, a sister-nation purged the blot 
 By awful war of kin 'gainst kin, in strife 
 Righteous as when the sons of Levi ran 
 Through Israel broken loose and likening God 
 
THORA 341 
 
 To ox that eateth grass, with blades whence 
 
 dripped 
 Their brethren's blood for sacrificial gore. 
 But is not Britain to dark Africa, 
 Which she made darker, deep in debt henceforth ? 
 And what is darkness, for mankind or man, 
 Save God unknown, sin seated on the throne, 
 
 Here fair and cultured, foul and savage there, 
 With misery and death for its viziers ? 
 Light and salvation, for mankind or man. 
 Is God known, and His will that all were saved 
 From sin, known also. Sin, with its desire 
 Towards man's ruin, coucheth at the door, 
 But Christian man or state rules over it,* 
 For Christ and righteousness are on the throne. 
 What part of Britain's debt is paid by me ? " 
 So Thora asked " Who goes to Africa 
 To disannul her covenant with death ? " 
 And stilled her heart's importunate appeal 
 
 * Gen. iv. 7, R-V. 
 
342 THORA 
 
 Filling their hands with gold for their crusade. 
 
 Then, waking as from dream to daily work, 
 
 " Uses of higher culture claims ray pen. 
 
 They say the world is over full to-day 
 
 Of learned women. Where can all find scope 
 
 Whom culture goads to storm the towers of 
 
 thought ? '• 
 She halted, as she sought for a reply. 
 Then came the summons, "Hear what God has 
 
 wrought 
 Through heralds whom your gold sent on their 
 
 way." 
 She followed secretly her secret gift. 
 Not daring to believe that those who tread 
 In footsteps of the honoured Twelve to-day 
 Are more than untaught, misled fanatics. 
 The world knows not its heroes, and the Church 
 Blinded by dust of strife has failed to see 
 How Christlike 'tis to seek the furthest lost. 
 But how they shamed her poor, unworthy thoughts. 
 
THORA 343 
 
 Those heroes, telling the unvarnished tale 
 They knew not for heroic, of men's hearts 
 Hungering for God and satisfied in Christ, 
 And witnessing anew for His great Name, 
 
 y lives transformed and households born again. 
 She heard of perils faced in dauntless quest 
 Of souls, and cried, " Oh, would I were a man, 
 To do and dare and suffer thus for God ! " 
 She heard of true yokefellows to these men. 
 Women who laboured in the gospel too. 
 And cried, " Would I were young and could go 
 
 forth ! 
 Life were worth living unto such an end." 
 She heard appeal, " Come, give ye to the work 
 Not yours, but you. We need more men to 
 
 preach ; 
 Yet more we need the women to instruct 
 Women and children as they only can. 
 We need the vigorous youth for enterprise, 
 The ripe experience that may ease our toil 
 
344 THORA 
 
 By care and counbcl, Here is work for all." 
 
 Thora bowed head, " I am Thine handmaid, Lord 
 
 Tell mc if I can serve Thee better there 
 
 Than here, and I will go forthwith for Thee." 
 
 Then in her heart a still small voice spake thus : 
 
 " Daughter, to whom no ties of home were given 
 
 Thou meokly tookest here the second place. 
 
 But thine shall be the bliss of following now, 
 
 Unhindered by such ties, the conquering Lamb 
 
 Whithersoe'er He goeth, and to thee 
 
 God will restore the years the locusts ate 
 
 Of vain ambition and of vain regret. 
 
 Thus working for His world, that needs the aid 
 
 Of all His true ones, life's best happiness 
 
 Unselfish labour to a glorious end 
 
 Is thine, and thine the everlasting name 
 
 Of builder of the human House of God." 
 
IPart VII 
 
 HEST 
 
 Evening is sweet when all the western sky- 
 Flushes in farewell to the sun, and winds 
 Sweep lightly o'er the treetops ; all is still 
 Save drowsy cattle lowing homeward bound, 
 And twittering birds choosing out twigs whereon 
 To ruffle up their bosoms for repose. 
 And eventide is sweetest when the day 
 Knew cloud and fog, rough rain and cutting blast. 
 So sweet was Thora's eventide, which ends 
 This tale of one of many unwed lives 
 Lived in our midst, lighted by no romance, 
 No glow of passion, blazing suddenly 
 To ecstasy, then flickering to despair. 
 
 345 
 
346 THORA 
 
 When the world knew how she had journeyed 
 
 forth 
 They doubted, then they wagered she'd return 
 In six months, armed with matter for a book 
 To take the town by storm : but on she stayed. 
 And then two ancient gossips shook their heads, 
 " Know you not how her mother's mother died ? 
 'Tis maddest freak of a mad family." 
 What the world said had never weighed with her, 
 And now 'twas less than nothing. On her way 
 She went ; the world went likewise on its way, 
 Forgetting soon that she had ever been. 
 For hers was service bringing no renown. 
 'Twas she whose healing skill brought back from 
 
 death 
 Two pioneers who spent themselves too soon 
 In their young faith and all-adventurous zeal ; 
 And they were makers of a Christian state 
 Hereafter, which amazed the curious world. 
 Twas she who eased the cares of motherhood 
 
THORA 347 
 
 For the brave helpmeets of those pioneers. 
 Twas she whose pen, none of its cunning lost 
 Now it was wholly God's, wrote home the tale 
 That stirred the hearts of Christian men to give 
 Themselves and theirs to battle in the van ; 
 That stopped the mouths of godless cavillers, 
 Whose ill reports of Christ's great work abroad 
 Battened on ignorance and apathy. 
 
 Now, her hair whitened, and her strength dried 
 up 
 By tropic suns, she only mourns that youth 
 Knew not the joy of offering to this cause, 
 And winning store of love unknown before 
 As friend and counsellor of all that band. 
 Nor went she songless. Love must ever sing. 
 Full chorus in the new-clad woods of June 
 Yields when they don their deepest green, a while 
 Before they blaze upon their funeral pyre, 
 To the bright warble of the robin, heard 
 When lordlier songs are hushed in harvest time. 
 
348 . THORA 
 
 Such was the song of Thora's life, for such 
 The love of childless woman for a child. 
 Two precious children shared her heart of hearts, 
 Both at the font were held by her to seek 
 Admission to Christ's flock ; her daily prayer, 
 As fervent as a mother's, rose for them. 
 One was a lovely blue-eyed English girl. 
 With hair like fairest silk from new cocoons. 
 Lapped up in luxury since first she breathed, 
 For she was Gerald's firstborn. Twenty years 
 And more he waited for his heart's first love ; 
 But then his kinsfolk said, " You, brotherless, 
 Go heirless. Shall your ancient name die out ? " 
 So Gerald asked for Una, newly come 
 From college. Yes, her world has learned to say, 
 " Let women study what they will, unblamed." 
 Unlike the world upon whose closed doors 
 Of culture Thora once had knocked in vain. 
 Then pretty Una's heart and head made Home 
 A gracious word for Gerald day by day. 
 
THORA 349 
 
 " Let Cousin Thora name our child," she said, 
 " And call her home for the babe's baptism." 
 So Thora took the hand she had not clasped 
 For five-and -twenty years, and knew herself 
 As white-haired woman happier than the girl 
 Who dreamed of love that far-off summer morn. 
 " Know Africa is heir to all my gold, 
 But little Thora's be the rest of mine, 
 And God's best blessing dwell on her and hers." 
 She pled for Africa in words that reached 
 Hearts never reached before, and turned to go. 
 And when she gained her equatorial home, 
 They claimed her mercy for another babe. 
 Telling this tale to her compassionate heart : — 
 A fettered gang pursued their painful way, 
 Most wretched journey to more wretched goal. 
 A week before, hunters of human prey 
 Had burst upon their village and had slain 
 Stalwart and sick and aged, leading off 
 The helpless crowd of women, lads, and babes. 
 
350 THORA 
 
 In one long line of sad captivity, 
 Towards the coast, where all were sold as slaves 
 That had not died by reason of the way. 
 One woman, newly widowed, bore her babe. 
 And to her clung another child bereft, 
 Whose mother bled on his dead father's breast 
 In yonder smoking homestead. As her steps 
 Faltered, the Arab driver of the gang 
 Muttered, " Her strength suffices not for two. 
 The child sells better than the babe." So snatched 
 Her nursling from her, hurling it afar 
 Like refuse to the tangled jungle's heart. 
 Frantic, the fettered mother sprang on him, 
 And vexed at her polluting heathen touch. 
 He smote her to the death — one more sad soul 
 Dying in utter darkness in God's world, 
 Because His servants let the devil reign.* 
 
 * The Rev. Herbert Clarke (Universities Mission) tells this 
 story. The Arab, however, slew the child with a stone instead of 
 throwing it into the jungle. 
 
THORA 351 
 
 Our heavenly Father heard the outcast's wail, 
 And guided succouring Christians to the spot. 
 So in the same kind arms that lately held 
 The dainty Lady Thora, that black babe 
 Took refuge. Him she called Nathanael — 
 That is, in Hebrew tongue, " the gift of God." 
 When he laid palm to palm in childish prayer 
 Beside her knee, giving her more and more 
 The strong impulsive love of his hot race, 
 She wept, but not the bitter tears once shed 
 O'er golden-headed Eric. Tears of joy. 
 Praying he might prove guileless and be blest 
 To all his tribe ; and thus it came to pass. 
 Her mind, enriched with many-coloured spoil, 
 Trained his mind, not less able than her own, 
 Until he proved to a gainsaying world 
 That God respects not persons when He gives 
 Powers that sway the hearts of other men. 
 He learned and taught and laboured in the Lord, 
 Till as " a godly and well-learned man," 
 
352 THORA 
 
 He in the stately Minster bowed his head 
 And rose chief shepherd of his distant flock ; 
 To build on soil where the white man had laid 
 Foundations, as the white man cannot build ; 
 That savage Africa be won to Christ 
 And sweet civility by words which won 
 Britain, as dark ten centuries ago. 
 
 But Thora only saw that day by faith ; 
 For when her work was done God called her home. 
 The night wind moans amid the kingly palms, 
 Stirring their shadowy crowns, and earth revives 
 Faint from the blazing day and stifling blast 
 Across the desert sands. The damp mists rise 
 From steaming, sodden undergrowth that chokes 
 The boundless , pathless forest ; all its trees 
 Strangled in the embrace of wandering vines 
 And thorny creepers, binding bough to bough, 
 And flinging meshes of tough greenery 
 Athwart the single wriggling track that led 
 To the lone mission-house where Thora lay. 
 
THORA 353 
 
 Her comrades slept the bioken sleep that comes 
 
 To arduous toilers even in this hot land ; 
 
 The howl of the hyena questing prey, 
 
 The fitful gnawing of the audacious rat, 
 
 The whirr and thud of distant gongs that made 
 
 Night hideous, keeping hideous things at bay, 
 
 Tortured her ears as she tossed to and fro, 
 
 Too spent with thirst and weakness even to pray, 
 
 Nearing the last hour of her earthly life. 
 
 All her soul going out in one desire : — 
 
 " Oh, for a glimpse of dewy turf alert 
 
 With laughing daisies, for a single waft 
 
 From hawthorn hedge or thymy slope, before 
 
 I close my eyes and ears for aye, where all 
 
 Is strange, save the white moonbeam and the sob 
 
 Of the dear sea, whose distant soothing plash 
 
 I hear as its long roll comes slowly in ! 
 
 The one vast sea, that washes with bright waves. 
 
 Brimful of life, the shores of all the world ; 
 
 Great highway of the nations, that at last 
 
 23 
 
354 • THORA 
 
 Brings face to face all those whom God hath made 
 Brothers, to serve each other ; deep and wide 
 As is the Love of Him at whose behest 
 Its tides move ceaseless, singing happy songs 
 To peaceful night beneath the moon's calm sway." 
 Her thought flies back to radiant dreams of youth 
 By moonlit seas, when life's untrodden path 
 Seemed endless, which had proved so strait and 
 
 brief 
 A headstrong girl, she lifted heart to God, 
 As eaglets to the great sun lift their eyes, 
 Yet in the nest, and knowing they must go 
 Sunward, but never having spread their wings ; 
 And cried, " Give knowledge, and I ask not love ; 
 Let its red roses bloom on other brows. 
 Give me to know Thy wisdom and Thy works." 
 The proud petition of a hungry mind. 
 In womanhood, her heart had gauged its need. 
 Knowledge could never fill it ; yet in strength 
 God-given, she renounced what she had prized 
 
THORA 355 
 
 Beyond all else. Lifted above herself 
 By sense of sacrifice, she lived to raise 
 Her sisters, shaping forth ideals new 
 For the unwed whose lives were nobly lived. 
 Then came the bitter, unexpected hour 
 Of impotent regret and vain desire ; 
 And now she cast herself on God indeed, 
 As eagle casts himself on yielding air. 
 Such trust the only path to his bright goal, 
 And knelt beneath the Cross to seek His love 
 Who died to win us grace and benison ; 
 So His gifts satisfied her heart a while. 
 Again it hungered on its self-sought way, 
 Until she learned to ask no other gift 
 Than grace to give to Him who giveth all. 
 And went forth for the gospel's sake, and His, 
 To taste pure joy in seeking His lost sheep. 
 
 And now in His good time she dies. Strength 
 fails 
 And thought drifts feebly on. " Methinks I stand 
 
356 • THORA 
 
 At last beside a misty sea alone. 
 
 The low-hung clouds hide from my stedfast gaze 
 
 All save the waves thai break upon the shore, 
 
 Murmuring : not a sound save seablrd's scream. 
 
 I go alone whither my fathers went. 
 
 Behind me lie the sunny meads and cots 
 
 Where once we nested, and the rugged hills 
 
 My daring youth strove up, the shadowy 
 
 streams 
 Where I lay weary ; all the sights and sounds 
 That made my life for ever far away. 
 And as I face the unknown 'sea, a voice 
 Whispers, * 'Tis shoreless.' As that lonely sail 
 Slips from my gaze in rolling fog, I pass 
 Out into nothingness : the fair, fond dream 
 Of life beyond this life will melt away 
 With tinkling church bells gathering living men 
 To dream it still. O last perplexing doubt ! 
 I fought thee once in mail of evidence, 
 Creed tested, book inspired, and witness given, 
 
THORA 357 
 
 Armour too heavy for my weary frame 
 To carry now. I know not what is true. 
 But I know Him, the Truth, who led me on, 
 Through all the tangled, devious path of life. 
 And in His holy keeping my faint soul 
 Is safe, till darkness break in perfect Light." 
 
 THE END. 
 
 Printed by Hasill, Watson, <&" Viney, Ld., London and Ayltsbury. 
 
BY THE SAME AUTHOR 
 CLEWS TO HOLY WRIT 
 
 OR, 
 
 THE CHRONOLOGICAL SCRIPTURE CYCLE 
 
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