Page:Aurora Leigh a Poem.djvu/385

I heard you speaking, . . friend!—Confirm me now.
You take this Marian, such as wicked men
Have made her, for your honourable wife?’

The thrilling, solemn, proud, pathetic voice.
He stretched his arms out toward the thrilling voice,
As if to draw it on to his embrace.
—‘I take her as God made her, and as men
Must fail to unmake her, as my honoured wife.’

She never raised her eyes, nor took a step,
But stood there in her place, and spoke again.
—‘You take this Marian’s child, which is her shame
In sight of men and women, for your child,
Of whom you will not ever feel ashamed?’

The thrilling, tender, proud, pathetic voice.
He stepped on toward it, still with outstretched arms,
As if to quench upon his breast that voice.
—‘May God so father me, as I do him
And so forsake me as I let him feel
He’s orphaned haply. Here I take the child
To share my cup, to slumber on my knee,
To play his loudest gambol at my foot,
To hold my finger in the public ways,
Till none shall need inquire, ‘Whose child is this,’
The gesture saying so tenderly, ‘My own’.’

She stood a moment silent in her place;
Then, turning toward me, very slow and cold—