The poetical works of George MacDonald in two volumes - Volume 1 by George MacDonald (series like harry potter .txt) 📕

is a better at the other end,
But here the stabling is by far the best.

Stephen .
I must push on. Four legs can never go
Down-hill so fast as two. Good morning, friend.

Waggoner .
Good morning, sir.

Stephen (aside )
I take the further house.


SCENE XV.- The Nurse's room . JULIAN and LILIA standing near the window .

Julian .
But do you really love me, Lilia?

Lilia .
Why do you make me say it so often, Julian?
You make me say I love you , oftener far
Than you say you love me.

Julian .
To love you seems
So much a thing of mere necessity!
I can refrain from loving you no more
Than keep from waking when the sun shines full
Upon my face.

Lilia .
And yet I love to say
How, how I love you, Julian!

[ Leans her head on his arm . JULIAN winces a little. She
raises her head and looks at him .]

Did I hurt you?
Would you not have me lean my head on you?

Julian .
Come on this side, my love; 'tis a slight hurt
Not yet quite healed.

Lilia .
Ah, my poor Julian! How-
I am so sorry!-Oh, I do remember!
I saw it all quite plain! It was no dream!
I saw you fighting!-Surely you did not kill him?

Julian
( calmly, but drawing himself up ).
I killed him as I would a dog that bit you.

Lilia
( turning pale, and covering her face with her
hands .)
Oh, that was dreadful! there is blood on you!

Julian .
Shall I go, Lilia?

Lilia .
Oh no, no, no, do not.-
I shall be better presently.

Julian .
You shrink
As from a murderer!

Lilia .
Oh no, I love you-
Will never leave you. Pardon me, my Julian;
But blood is terrible.

Julian
( drawing her close to him ).
My own sweet Lilia,
'Twas justly shed, for your defense and mine,
As it had been a tiger that I killed.
He had no right to live. Be at peace, darling;
His blood lies not on me, but on himself;
I do not feel its stain upon my conscience.

[ A tap at the door .]

Enter Nurse.

Nurse .
My lord, the steward waits on you below.

[JULIAN goes .]

You have been standing till you're faint, my lady!
Lie down a little. There!-I'll fetch you something.


SCENE XVI.- The Steward's room . JULIAN. The Steward .

Julian .
Well, Joseph, that will do. I shall expect
To hear from you soon after my arrival.
Is the boat ready?

Steward .
Yes, my lord; afloat
Where you directed.

Julian .
A strange feeling haunts me,
As of some danger near. Unlock it, and cast
The chain around the post. Muffle the oars.

Steward .
I will, directly.

[ Goes .]

Julian .
How shall I manage it?
I have her father's leave, but have not dared
To tell her all; and she must know it first!
She fears me half, even now: what will she think
To see my shaven head? My heart is free-
I know that God absolves mistaken vows.
I looked for help in the high search from those
Who knew the secret place of the Most High.
If I had known, would I have bound myself
Brother to men from whose low, marshy minds
Never a lark springs to salute the day?
The loftiest of them dreamers, and the best
Content with goodness growing like moss on stones!
It cannot be God's will I should be such.
But there was more: they virtually condemned
Me in my quest; would have had me content
To kneel with them around a wayside post,
Nor heed the pointing finger at its top?
It was the dull abode of foolishness:
Not such the house where God would train his children!
My very birth into a world of men
Shows me the school where he would have me learn;
Shows me the place of penance; shows the field
Where I must fight and die victorious,
Or yield and perish. True, I know not how
This will fall out: he must direct my way!
But then for her-she cannot see all this;
Words will not make it plain; and if they would,
The time is shorter than the words would need:
This overshadowing bodes nearing ill.-
It may be only vapour, of the heat
Of too much joy engendered; sudden fear
That the fair gladness is too good to live:
The wider prospect from the steep hill's crest,
The deeper to the vale the cliff goes down;
But how will she receive it? Will she think
I have been mocking her? How could I help it?
Her illness and my danger! But, indeed,
So strong was I in truth, I never thought
Her doubts might prove a hindrance in the way.
My love did make her so a part of me,
I never dreamed she might judge otherwise,
Until our talk of yesterday. And now
Her horror at Nembroni's death confirms me:
To wed a monk will seem to her the worst
Of crimes which in a fever one might dream.
I cannot take the truth, and, bodily,
Hold it before her eyes. She is not strong.
She loves me-not as I love her. But always
-There's Robert for an instance-I have loved
A life for what it might become, far more
Than for its present: there's a germ in her
Of something noble, much beyond her now:
Chance gleams betray it, though she knows it not.

This evening must decide it, come what will.


SCENE XVII.- The inn; the room which had been JULIAN'S. STEPHEN, Host, and Hostess. Wine on the table .

Stephen .
Here, my good lady, let me fill your glass;
Then send the bottle on, please, to your husband.

Hostess .
I thank you, sir; I hope you like the wine;
My husband's choice is praised. I cannot say
I am a judge myself.

Host .
I'm confident
It needs but to be tasted.

Stephen
( tasting critically, then nodding ).
That is wine!
Let me congratulate you, my good sir,
Upon your exquisite judgment!

Host .
Thank you, sir.

Stephen
( to the Hostess).
And so this man, you say, was here until
The night the count was murdered: did he leave
Before or after that?

Hostess .
I cannot tell;
He left, I know, before it was discovered.
In the middle of the storm, like one possessed,
He rushed into the street, half tumbling me
Headlong down stairs, and never came again.
He had paid his bill that morning, luckily;
So joy go with him! Well, he was an odd one!

Stephen .
What was he like, fair Hostess?

Hostess .
Tall and dark,
And with a lowering look about his brows.
He seldom spoke, but, when he did, was civil.
One queer thing was, he always wore his hat,
Indoors as well as out. I dare not say
He murdered Count Nembroni; but it was strange
He always sat at that same window there,
And looked into the street. 'Tis not as if
There were much traffic in the village now;
These are changed times; but