ish even, may attend it, but never can its issue be futility. Nor is
this merely the already familiar view that somehow, though rejected,
love benignly works for the beloved. "That may be, that _is_" (he seems
to say), "but it is not the truth which most inspires me." The glory of
love for Browning resides most radiantly in what it does for the lover's
own soul. It is "God's secret": one who loves is initiate.

"Such am I: the secret's mine now! She has lost me, I have gained
her;
Her soul's mine: and thus, grown perfect, I shall pass my life's
remainder.
Life will just hold out the proving both our powers, alone and
blended:
And then, come next life quickly! This world's use will have been
ended."

That is the concluding stanza of _Cristina_, which might be called the
companion-piece to _Porphyria's Lover_; for in each the woman belongs to
a social world remote from her adorer's; in each she has, nevertheless,
perceived him and been drawn to him--but in _Cristina_ is caught back
into the vortex, while in _Porphyria's Lover_ the passion prevails, for
the man, by killing her, has kept her folded in "God's secret" with
himself.

"She should never have looked at me if she meant I should not love
her!
There are plenty . . . men, you call such, I suppose . . . she may
discover
All her soul to, if she pleases, and yet leave much as she found
them:
But I'm not so, and she knew it, when she fixed me, glancing round
them."

That is the lover's first impulsive cry on finding himself "thrown
over." Why did she not leave him alone? Others tell him that that
"fixing" of hers means nothing--that she is, simply, a coquette. But he
"can't tell what her look said." Certainly not any "vile cant" about
giving her heart to him because she saw him sad and solitary, about
lavishing all that she was on him because he was obscure, and she the
queen of women. Not _that_, whatever else!

And now, so sure of this that he grows sure of other things as well, he
declares that it was a moment of true revelation for her also--she
_did_ perceive in him the man she wanted.

"Oh, we're sunk enough here, God knows! but not quite so sunk that
moments,
Sure tho' seldom, are denied us, when the spirit's true endowments
Stand out plainly from its false ones, and apprise it if pursuing
Or the right way or the