“‘Now I’ll kiss thee, Marcus, and we’ll go home. I must have milk.’
“I humoured her, and we walked about the room. I gave her a few drops of wine, and she was contented and slept.
“Evening again. I watched the mirror alone. The flesh came—less than ever. I feared to wake her, yet I must eat. I took her softly in my arms, and moved towards the ledge. I reached it. I must free one hand for a moment. I reached the flesh, but I felt her heavy chains slipping. They fell, jerked her arms violently, and with a loud clang reached the floor. She woke, gave one look at my face, all blood-stained as it was, and shouted ‘Glaucus, Glaucus! help! Sporus—thou demon, let me go!’ She tore my face with her nails and bit me, and shrieked again and again. I’ve heard the cry of the wild bird—I’ve heard the cry of the despairing seamen, as they struggled in the waves—I’ve heard the wildest of all sounds, the wind amongst the mountain pines, but I never heard such a sound as that before or since. I hear it now!”—and the old man put his hands to his ears, as if to keep out the sound.
“She thought it was Sporus; and struggled for life.
“‘I am thine own—thy Glaucus.’
“‘Liar that thou art,’ and again the cries for Glaucus, and the same wild scream. She tore herself from my grasp and fled round and round the cell. I could have held her by the chains but for the poor wrists; at last I caught her robe and she fell, but it was on the sharp edge of the wine basin, and the blood flowed from a great gash in her fair forehead, and then she swooned, and in the odour of that blood as I staunched it I saw it with terrible clearness. I dare not kiss her forehead whilst it flowed. I held her and lay by her side while I ate my feast. I felt strong again, and reproached myself for eating—’twas but the longer to live, and why live? Yet I could not but eat.
“The moon was shining brightly on her face, and again I saw it as she lay. What would I not have given to see it not? It wanted but a little to sunrise; the stars were growing fainter in the grey morning light when she woke. Oh, what happiness! the old look—the look she had when she sat at my feet in the wild free woods.
“‘Have I been asleep long, my Glaucus? I have had such dreams; I have been a child, and then I dreamed of the woods and Sporus again, and I have dreamed that I was thy bride, and that thou didst die upon our nuptial couch. In vain I called thee, kissed thee, pressed thee to me—thou wert dead; and I a widowed virgin.’
“‘Dearest, thou hast been sick nigh to death; it was not all a dream. Art thou in pain now?’
“‘No, no pain now.’ It was so near. I knew when she said that.
“‘Glaucus, I shall leave you soon. You will think of those things I said to thee of my god Christus? Wilt thou have anything to live for, when I am gone?’
“‘I shall go soon too, I hope—I know not how to live without thee, my Virginia.’
“‘But men die not when they will, save with guilt; thou yet mayest escape this when I am gone.’
“‘True, dearest.’ I should not have been there an hour but for her and her chains. Freedom or death was the work of a moment; the windows I could reach easily.
“‘Glaucus; wilt thou grant me a last request?’
“‘Ay, my life; anything that thou wilt ask.’
“She reached up her face to kiss me. She had no strength. She fell back. I stooped and kissed her. We could have wept, but nature had no useless moisture for tears—the eye-balls were strained and dry.
“‘Promise me that thou wilt become a preacher of those truths I have taught thee so humbly, yet so willingly—thou wilt, my Glaucus?’
“‘Thy God helping me, I will preach Christus amongst men till death summon me to thee, love. Soon, soon! O God, soon!’
“‘I am so happy.’ She looked so. I felt she was happy.
“‘Christus, bless with thy spirit this thy servant. Make his labours for thy cause, for thy glory, successful. Bless us both, O Christus!’ She paused, put up her chained arms to my neck, drew my face to hers, kissed me tenderly. ‘Bless my Glaucus, O gracious Christus!’ she murmured, and so died.”
The old preacher sobbed not alone.
“I let her lips chill mine, still I moved them not. She was dead! Sporus was well avenged: his slave, my own Virginia, was dead; I thought of the evening. It came—the mirror moved not—there was no flesh. The wine still gurgled and sparkled in its basin. I looked towards the windows, they were gone!—there was no escape. It must be. It was there with me all that night, all that long day.
“Evening came again—the mirror moved not—it was near, dreadfully near. I took my robe, twisted it into a rope, and put it round my throat—drew it tighter and tighter—I could not keep my promise—I must die now. I could not look upon it longer. Tighter and tighter—it was going, thank God! All was growing dim and indistinct. Tighter yet—it was nearly gone. Tighter yet—the earth opened. I fell down a fathomless abyss, and all was darkness. I knew no more.
“Alas! I woke again. It was night. I felt weaker—I saw I was still there;—the robe had broken and saved me. To what? There she lay so calm, so peaceful, so holy, in her sleep of death. I could hardly think she was dead, yet she was, and I saw it there.
“I must drink. I crawled to the wine fountain—I drank—deeply—but hunger was now more furious than ever, and there was no flesh.
“I carried her carefully back to the bench. I saw it coming now! A giddiness seized me—it went away—I saw it nearer. I stooped to kiss her lips. It was nearer still again. I stopped—and once again—and then—My God! It had come! at last. It was there! God forgive me! but I was mad!
****
“I was a king! I feasted royally, plenty was mine. I slept on a bed of softest down. I ate when I pleased, I drank—how I drank!—’twas strange, my hands were bound still.
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