The poetical works of George MacDonald in two volumes — Volume 1. George MacDonaldЧитать онлайн книгу.
Julian.
No, Lilia; he's at liberty and safe,
And far from this ere now.
Lilia.
You have done this,
My noble Julian! I will go with you
To sunset, if you will. My father gone!
Julian, there's none to love me now but you.
You will love me, Julian?—always?
Julian.
I but fear
That your heart, Lilia, is not big enough
To hold the love wherewith my heart would fill it.
Lilia.
I know why you think that; and I deserve it.
But try me, Julian. I was very silly.
I could not help it. I was ill, you know;
Or weak at least. May I ask you, Julian,
How your arm is to-day?
Julian.
Almost well, child.
Twill leave an ugly scar, though, I'm afraid.
Lilia.
Never mind that, if it be well again.
Julian.
I do not mind it; but when I remember
That I am all yours, then I grudge that scratch
Or stain should be upon me—soul, body, yours.
And there are more scars on me now than I
Should like to make you own, without confession.
Lilia.
My poor, poor Julian! never think of it;
[Putting her arms round him.]
I will but love you more. I thought you had
Already told me suffering enough;
But not the half, it seems, of your adventures.
You have been a soldier!
Julian.
I have fought, my Lilia.
I have been down among the horses' feet;
But strange to tell, and harder to believe,
Arose all sound, unmarked with bruise, or blood
Save what I lifted from the gory ground.
[Sighing.]
My wounds are not of such.
[LILIA, loosening her arms, and drawing back a little with a kind of shrinking, looks a frightened interrogation.]
No. Penance, Lilia;
Such penance as the saints of old inflicted
Upon their quivering flesh. Folly, I know;
As a lord would exalt himself, by making
His willing servants into trembling slaves!
Yet I have borne it.
Lilia
(laying her hand on his arm).
Ah, alas, my Julian,
You have been guilty!
Julian.
Not what men call guilty,
Save it be now; now you will think I sin.
Alas, I have sinned! but not in this I sin.—
Lilia, I have been a monk.
Lilia.
A monk?
[Turningpale.]
I thought—
[Faltering.]
Julian,—I thought you said…. did you not say…?
[Very pale, brokenly.]
I thought you said …
[With an effort.]
I was to be your wife!
[Covering her face with her hands, and bursting into tears.]
Julian
(speaking low and in pain).
And so I did.
Lilia
(hopefully, and looking up).
Then you've had dispensation?
Julian.
God has absolved me, though the Church will not.
He knows it was in ignorance I did it.
Rather would he have men to do his will,
Than keep a weight of words upon their souls,
Which they laid there, not graven by his finger.
The vow was made to him—to him I break it.
Lilia
(weeping