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MacDonald, George, 1824-1905

"The Marquis of Lossie"

And well for them, for the love where God is not, be
the lady lovely as Cordelia, the man gentle as Philip Sidney, will
fare as the overkept manna.
When the huge tidal wave from the ocean of infinite delight had
broken at last upon the shore of the finite, and withdrawn again
into the deeps, leaving every cistern brimming, every fountain
overflowing, the two entranced souls opened their bodily eyes,
looked at each other, rose, and stood hand in hand, speechless.
"Ah, my lady!" said Malcolm at length, "what is to become of this
delicate smoothness in my great rough hand? Will it not be hurt?"
"You don't know how strong it is, Malcolm. There!"
"I can scarcely feel it with my hand, my lady; it all goes through
to my heart. It shall lie in mine as the diamond in the rock."
"No, no, Malcolm! Now that I am going to be a fisherman's wife,
it must be a strong hand--it must work. What homage shall you
require of me, Malcolm? What will you have me do to rise a little
nearer your level? Shall I give away lands and money? And shall I
live with you in the Seaton? or will you come and fish at Wastbeach?"
"Forgive me, my lady; I can't think about things now--even with
you in them. There is neither past nor future to me now--only
this one eternal morning. Sit here, and look up, Lady Clementina:
--see all those worlds:--something in me constantly says that
I shall know every one of them one day; that they are all but rooms
in the house of my spirit, that is, the house of our Father.


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