Page:Aurora Leigh a Poem.djvu/378

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NINTH BOOK

Even thus. I pause to write it out at length,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 fretsAnd 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 detrimentAlthough she should not love him any more.And I, who do not love him, nor love you,Nor you, Aurora,—choose you shall repentYour 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

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