Within and Without

back on the pillow. He leaves her.
How her dear eyes bewildered looked at me!
But her soul’s eyes are closed. If this last long
She’ll die before my sight, and Joy will lead
In by the hand her sister, Grief, pale-faced,
And leave her to console my solitude.
Ah, what a joy! I dare not think of it!
And what a grief! I will not think of that!
Love? and from her? my beautiful, my own!
O God, I did not know thou wast so rich
In making and in giving; did not know
The gathered glory of this earth of thine.
What! wilt thou crush me with an infinite joy?
Make me a god by giving? Wilt thou take
Thy centre-thought of living beauty, born
In thee, and send it home to dwell with me? He leans on the wall. Lilia

Softly.

Am I in heaven? There’s something makes me glad,
As if I were in heaven! Yes, yes, I am.
I see the flashing of ten thousand glories;
I hear the trembling of a thousand wings,
That vibrate music on the murmuring air!
Each tiny feather-blade crushes its pool
Of circling air to sound, and quivers music!⁠—
What is it, though, that makes me glad like this?
I knew, but cannot find it⁠—I forget.
It must be here⁠—what was it?⁠—Hark! the fall,
The endless going of the stream of life!⁠—
Ah me! I thirst, I thirst⁠—I am so thirsty! Querulously.

Julian gives her drink, supporting her. She looks at him again, with large wondering eyes.

Ah! now I know⁠—I was so very thirsty! He lays her down. She is comforted, and falls asleep. He extinguishes the light, and looks out of the window.

Julian

The gray earth dawning up, cold, comfortless;
With its obtrusive I am written large
Upon its face! Approaches the bed, and gazes on Lilia silently with clasped hands; then returns to the window.
She sleeps so peacefully!
O God, I thank thee: thou hast sent her sleep.
Lord, let it sink into her heart and brain.

Enter Nurse.

Oh, nurse, I’m glad you’re come! She is asleep.
You must be near her when she wakes again.
I think she’ll be herself. But do be careful⁠—
Right cautious how you tell her I am here.
Sweet woman-child, may God be in your sleep! Julian goes.

Nurse

Bless her white face, she looks just like my daughter,
That’s now a saint in heaven! Just those thin cheeks,
And eyelids hardly closed over her eyes!⁠—
Dream on, poor darling! you are drinking life
From the breast of sleep. And yet I fain would see
Your shutters open, for I then should know
Whether the soul had drawn her curtains back,
To peep at morning from her own bright windows.
Ah! what a joy is ready, waiting her,
To break her fast upon, if her wild dreams
Have but betrayed her secrets honestly!
Will he not give thee love as dear as thine!

Scene XI

A hilly road. Stephen, trudging alone, pauses to look around him.

Stephen

Not a footprint! not a trace that a bloodhound would nose at! But Stephen shall be acknowledged good dog and true. If I had him within stick-length⁠—mind thy head, brother Julian! Thou hast not hair enough to protect it, and thy tonsure shall not. Neither shalt thou tarry at Jericho.⁠—It is a poor man that leaves no trail; and if thou wert poor, I would not follow thee. Sings. Oh, many a hound is stretching out His two legs or his four, And the saddled horses stand about The court and the castle door, Till out come the baron, jolly and stout, To hunt the bristly boar! The emperor, he doth keep a pack In his antechambers standing, And up and down the stairs, good lack! And eke upon the landing: A straining leash, and a quivering back, And nostrils and chest expanding! The devil a hunter long hath been, Though Doctor Luther said it: Of his canon-pack he was the dean, And merrily he led it: The old one kept them swift and lean On faith⁠—that’s devil’s credit! Each man is a hunter to his trade, And they follow one another; But such a hunter never was made As the monk that hunted his brother! And the runaway pig, ere its game be played, Shall be eaten by its mother!

Better hunt a flea in a woolly blanket, than a leg-bail monk in this wilderness of mountains, forests, and precipices! But the flea may be caught, and so shall the monk. I have said it. He is well spotted, with his silver crown and his uncropped ears. The rascally heretic! But his vows shall keep him, though he won’t keep his vows. The whining, blubbering idiot! Gave his plaything, and wants it back!⁠—I wonder whereabouts I am.

Scene XII

The Nurse’s room. Lilia sitting up in bed. Julian seated by her; an open note in his hand.

Lilia	Tear it up, Julian.
Julian	No; I’ll treasure it As the remembrance of a by-gone grief: I love it well, because it is not yours.
Lilia	Where have you been these long, long years away? You look much older. You have suffered, Julian!
Julian	Since that day, Lilia, I have seen much, thought much, Suffered a little. When you are quite yourself, I’ll tell you all you want to know about me.
Lilia	Do tell me something now. I feel quite strong; It will not hurt me.
Julian	Wait a day or two. Indeed ’twould weary you to tell you all.
Lilia	And I have much to tell you, Julian. I Have suffered too⁠—not all for my own sake. Recalling something. Oh, what a dream I had! Oh, Julian!⁠— I don’t know when it was. It must have been Before you brought me here! I am sure it was.
Julian	Don’t speak about it. Tell me afterwards. You must keep quiet now. Indeed you must.
Lilia	I will obey you, will not speak a word.
	Enter Nurse.
Nurse	Blessings upon her! she’s near well already. Who would have thought, three days ago, to see You look so bright! My lord, you have done wonders.
Julian	My art has helped a little, I