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NINTH BOOK
Even thus. I pause to write it out at length,
The letter of the Lady Waldemar.—
The letter of the Lady Waldemar.—
‘I prayed your cousin Leigh to take you this,
He says he’ll do it. After years of love,
Or what is called so,—when a woman frets
And fools upon one string of a man’s name,
And fingers it for ever till it breaks,—
He may perhaps do for her such thing,
And she accept it without detriment
Although she should not love him any more.
And I, who do not love him, nor love you,
Nor you, Aurora,—choose you shall repent
Your most ungracious letter, and confess,
Constrained by his convictions, (he’s convinced)
You’ve wronged me foully.Are you made so ill,
You woman—to impute such ill to me?
We both had mothers,—lay in their bosom once.
Why, after all, I thank you, Aurora Leigh,
For proving to myself that there are things
He says he’ll do it. After years of love,
Or what is called so,—when a woman frets
And fools upon one string of a man’s name,
And fingers it for ever till it breaks,—
He may perhaps do for her such thing,
And she accept it without detriment
Although she should not love him any more.
And I, who do not love him, nor love you,
Nor you, Aurora,—choose you shall repent
Your most ungracious letter, and confess,
Constrained by his convictions, (he’s convinced)
You’ve wronged me foully.Are you made so ill,
You woman—to impute such ill to me?
We both had mothers,—lay in their bosom once.
Why, after all, I thank you, Aurora Leigh,
For proving to myself that there are things
B B
