Page:Aurora Leigh a Poem.djvu/254

So close upon me, that I felt the sigh
It turned with.
⁠‘Marian, Marian!’—face to face—
‘Marian! I find you. Shall I let you go?’
I held her two slight wrists with both my hands;
‘Ah, Marian, Marian, can I let you go?’
—She fluttered from me like a cyclamen,
As white, which, taken in a sudden wind,
Beats on against the palisade.—‘Let pass,’
She said at last. ‘I will not,’ I replied;
‘I lost my sister Marian many days,
And sought her ever in my walks and prayers,
And now I find her . . . do we thrown away
The bread we worked and prayed for,—crumble it
And drop it, . . to do even so by thee
Whom still I’ve hungered after more than bread,
My sister Marian?—can I hurt thee, dear?
Then why distrust me? Never tremble so.
Come with me rather, where we’ll talk and live,
And none shall vex us. I’ve a home for you
And me and no one else’ . . .
⁠She shook her head.
‘A home for you and me and no one else
Ill-suits one of us: I prefer to such,
A roof of grass on which a flower might spring,
Less costly to me than the cheapest here;
And yet I could not, at this hour, afford
A like home, even. That you offer yours,
I thank you. You are good as heaven itself—
As good as one I knew before . . Farewell.’