Page:Confessions of a wife (IA confessionsofwif00adamiala).pdf/112

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CONFESSIONS OF A WIFE

I begin to see that there is a conflict as old as the axis of the world. Around its fixed and invisible bar every soul of us revolves—so many revolutions to an ecstasy, so many to a pang; and the sum and nature of these revolutions is the sum and nature of ourselves. When I am old and sad, shall I turn penitent and think about heaven? Oh, I am young, I am glad, I am beloved, and I love! Earth is enough for me, for he is in it.

It would be impossible for me to put into words the quality of his consideration for me. It is something ineffable and not to be desecrated by expression. It is my atmosphere. His treatment of me is the very devoutness of love. I breathe a devotion for which any tender woman in the world would die. Though I am wife, thus am I goddess, for he deifies me.

But while his soul looks up to mine
My heart lies at his feet.

The difference is that now I am willing he should know when he has my heart at his feet. Once I kept the secret to myself, and confided it only to this dumb paper. There are some delicate lines in the poem when Radha and Krishna were married—the one that begins:

But when the music of her bangles passed the porch—

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