..Her soul, that is,--the sister's soul! With her
'Twas winter yesterday; now, all is warmth,
The green leaf's springing and the turtle's voice,
"Arise and come away!" Come whither?--far
Enough from the esteem, respect, and all
The brother's somewhat insignificant
Array of rights! All which he knows before,
Has calculated on so long ago!
I think such love, (apart from yours and mine,)
Contented with its little term of life,
Intending to retire betimes, aware
How soon the background must be placed for it,
--I think, am sure, a brother's love exceeds
All the world's love in its unworldliness.
MILDRED. What is this for?
TRESHAM. This, Mildred, is it for!
Or, no, I cannot go to it so soon!
That's one of many points my haste left out--
Each day, each hour throws forth its silk-slight film
Between the being tied to you by birth,
And you, until those slender threads compose
A web that shrouds her daily life of hopes
And fears and fancies, all her life, from yours:
So close you live and yet so far apart!
And must I rend this web, tear up, break down
The sweet and palpitating mystery
That makes her sacred? You--for you I mean,
Shall I speak, shall I not speak?
MILDRED. Speak!
TRESHAM. I will.
Is there a story men could--any man
Could tell of you, you would conceal from me?
I'll never think there's falsehood on that lip.
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