The poetical works of George MacDonald in two volumes — Volume 1 - George MacDonald

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        Waggoner.

                         That is Count Lamballa's.

        Stephen.

        What is his Christian name?

        Waggoner.

                                    Omfredo. No,

        That was his father's; his is Julian.

        Stephen.

        Is he at home?

        Waggoner.

                         No, not for many a day.

        His steward, honest man, I know is doubtful

        Whether he be alive; and yet his land

        Is better farmed than any in the country.

        Stephen.

        He is not married, then?

        Waggoner.

                                No. There's a gossip

        Amongst the women—but who would heed their talk!—

        That love half-crazed, then drove him out of doors,

        To wander here and there, like a bad ghost,

        Because a silly wench refused him:—fudge!

        Stephen.

        Most probably. I quite agree with you.

        Where do you stop?

        Waggoner.

                       At the first inn we come to;

        You'll see it from the bottom of the hill.

        There 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

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