Daniel Deronda.
I.
What lover best his love doth prove and show? The one whose words are swiftest, love to state? The one who measures out his love by weight In costly gifts which all men see and know? Nay! words are cheap and easy: they may go For what men think them worth: or soon or late, They are but air. And gifts? Still cheaper rate Are they at which men barter to and fro Where love is not! One thing remains. Oh, Love, Thou hast so seldom seen it on the earth, No name for it has ever sprung to birth; To give one's own life up one's love to prove, Not in the martyr's death, but in the dearth Of daily life's most wearing daily groove.
II.
And unto him who this great thing hath done, What does Great Love return? No speedy joy! That swift delight which beareth large alloy Is guerdon Love bestowed on him who won A lesser trust: the happiness begun In happiness, of happiness may cloy, And, its own subtle foe, itself destroy. But steadfast, tireless, quenchless as the sun Doth grow that gladness which hath root in pain. Earth's common griefs assail this soul in vain. Great Love himself, too poor to pay such debt, Doth borrow God's great peace which passeth yet All understanding. Full tenfold again Is found the life, laid down without regret!
When Squire Gunn and his wife died, within three months of each other, and Hetty their only child was left alone in the big farm-house, everybody said, “Well, now Hetty Gunn'll have to make up her mind to marry somebody.” And it certainly looked as