The poetical works of George MacDonald Volume I Part 26

My little Lily, I have lost your mother.

_Lily_.

Oh!

[_Beginning to weep_.]

She was so pretty, Somebody has stolen her.

_Julian_.

Will you go with me, And help me look for her?

_Lily_.

O yes, I will.

[_Clasping him round the neck_.]

But my head aches so! Will you carry me?

_Julian_.

Yes, my own darling. Come, we'll get your bonnet.

_Lily_.

Oh! you've been crying, father. You're so white!

[_Putting her finger to his cheek_.]

SCENE XI.--_A table in a club-room. Several_ Gentlemen _seated round it. To them enter another_.

_1st Gentleman_.

Why, Bernard, you look heated! what's the matter?

_Bernard_.

Hot work, as looked at; cool enough, as done.

_2nd G_.

A good ant.i.thesis, as usual, Bernard, But a sh.e.l.l too hard for the vulgar teeth Of our impatient curiosity.

_Bernard_.

Most unexpectedly I found myself Spectator of a scene in a home-drama Worth all stage-tragedies I ever saw.

_All_.

What was it? Tell us then. Here, take this seat.

[_He sits at the table, and pours out a gla.s.s of wine_.]

_Bernard_.

I went to call on Seaford, and was told He had gone to town. So I, as privileged, Went to his cabinet to write a note; Which finished, I came down, and called his valet.

Just as I crossed the hall I heard a voice-- "The Countess Lamballa--is she here to-day?"

And looking toward the door, I caught a glimpse Of a tall figure, gaunt and stooping, drest In a blue shabby frock down to his knees, And on his left arm sat a little child.

The porter gave short answer, with the door For period to the same; when, like a flash, It flew wide open, and the serving man Went reeling, staggering backward to the stairs, 'Gainst which he fell, and, rolling down, lay stunned.

In walked the visitor; but in the moment Just measured by the closing of the door, Heavens, what a change! He walked erect, as if Heading a column, with an eye and face As if a fountain-shaft of blood had shot Up suddenly within his wasted frame.

The child sat on his arm quite still and pale, But with a look of triumph in her eyes.

He glanced in each room opening from the hall, Set his face for the stair, and came right on-- In every motion calm as glacier's flow, Save, now and then, a movement, sudden, quick, Of his right hand across to his left side: 'Twas plain he had been used to carry arms.

_3rd G_.

Did no one stop him?

_Bernard_.

Stop him? I'd as soon Have faced a tiger with bare hands. 'Tis easy In pa.s.sion to meet pa.s.sion; but it is A daunting thing to look on, when the blood Is going its wonted pace through your own veins.

Besides, this man had something in his face, With its live eyes, close lips, nostrils distended, A self-reliance, and a self-command, That would go right up to its goal, in spite Of any _no_ from any man. I would As soon have stopped a cannon-ball as him.

Over the porter, lying where he fell, He strode, and up the stairs. I heard him go-- I listened as it were a ghost that walked With pallid spectre-child upon its arm-- Along the corridors, from door to door, Opening and shutting. But at last a sting Of sudden fear lest he should find the lady, And mischief follow, shot me up the stairs.

I met him at the top, quiet as at first; The fire had faded from his eyes; the child Held in her tiny hand a lady's glove Of delicate primrose. When he reached the hall, He turned him to the porter, who had scarce Recovered what poor wits he had, and saying, "The count Lamballa waited on lord Seaford,"

Turned him again, and strode into the street.

_1st G_.

Have you learned anything of what it meant?

_Bernard_.

Of course he had suspicions of his wife: For all the gifts a woman has to give, I would not rouse such blood. And yet to see The gentle fairy child fall kissing him, And, with her little arms grasping his neck, Peep anxious round into his s.h.a.ggy face, As they went down the street!--it almost made A fool of me.--I'd marry for such a child!

SCENE XII.--_A by-street_. JULIAN _walking home very weary. The child in his arms, her head lying on his shoulder. An_ Organ-boy _with a monkey, sitting on a door-step. He sings in a low voice_.

_Julian_.

Look at the monkey, Lily.

_Lily_.

No, dear father; I do not like monkeys.

_Julian_.

Hear the poor boy sing.

[_They listen. He sings_.]

SONG.

Wenn ich h.o.r.e dich mir nah', Stimmen in den Blattern da; Wenn ich fuhl' dich weit und breit, Vater, das ist Seligkeit.

Nun die Sonne liebend scheint, Mich mit dir und All vereint; Biene zu den Blumen fliegt, Seel' an Lieb' sich liebend schmiegt.

So mich vollig lieb du hast, Daseyn ist nicht eine Last; Wenn ich seh' und h.o.r.e dich, Das genugt mir inniglich.

_Lily_.

It sounds so curious. What is he saying, father?

_Julian_.

My boy, you are not German?