The Poetical Works of George MacDonald, vol 1 | Page 9

'Twas
rumoured soon they were in grievous trouble, Which caused much
wonder, for the family Was always reckoned wealthy. Count Nembroni
Contrived to be the only creditor, And so imprisoned him.
Julian. Where is the lady? Nurse. Down in the town. Julian. But where?
Nurse. If you turn left, When you go through the gate, 'tis the last house
Upon this side the way. An honest couple, Who once were almost
pensioners of hers, Have given her shelter: still she hopes a home With
distant friends. Alas, poor lady! 'tis A wretched change for her.
Julian. Hm! ah! I see. What kind of man is this Nembroni, nurse?

Nurse. Here he is little known. His title comes From an estate, they say,
beyond the hills. He looks ungracious: I have seen the children Run to
the doors when he came up the street.
Julian. Thank you, nurse; you may go. Stay--one thing more: Have any
of my people seen me?
Nurse. None But me, my lord.
Julian. And can you keep it secret?-- know you will for my sake. I will
trust you. Bring me some supper; I am tired and faint. [Nurse goes.]
Poor and alone! Such a man has not laid His plans for nothing further! I
will watch him. Heaven may have brought me hither for her sake. Poor
child! I would protect thee as thy father, Who cannot help thee. Thou
wast not to blame; My love had no claim on like love from thee.--How
the old tide comes rushing to my heart!
I know not what I can do yet but watch. I have no hold on him. I cannot
go, Say, _I suspect_; and, _Is it so or not_? I should but injure them by
doing so. True, I might pay her father's debts; and will, If Joseph, my
old friend, has managed well During my absence. I have not spent
much. But still she'd be in danger from this man, If not permitted to
betray himself; And I, discovered, could no more protect. Or if, unseen
by her, I yet could haunt Her footsteps like an angel, not for long
Should I remain unseen of other eyes, That peer from under cowls--not
angel-eyes-- Hunting me out, over the stormy earth. No; I must watch. I
can do nothing better.

SCENE II.--_A poor cottage. An old_ Man and Woman sitting
together.
Man. How's the poor lady now?
Woman. She's poorly still. I fancy every day she's growing thinner. I
am sure she's wasting steadily.
Man. Has the count Been here again to-day?

Woman. No. And I think He will not come again. She was so proud
The last time he was here, you would have thought She was a queen at
least.
Man. Remember, wife, What she has been. Trouble like that throws
down The common folk like us all of a heap: With folks like her, that
are high bred and blood, It sets the mettle up.
Woman. All very right; But take her as she was, she might do worse
Than wed the Count Nembroni.
Man. Possible. But are you sure there is no other man Stands in his
way?
Woman. How can I tell? So be, He should be here to help her. What
she'll do I am sure I do not know. We cannot keep her. And for her
work, she does it far too well To earn a living by it. Her times are
changed-- She should not give herself such prideful airs.
Man. Come, come, old wife! you women are so hard On one another!
You speak fair for men, And make allowances; but when a woman
Crosses your way, you speak the worst of her. But where is this you're
going then to-night? Do they want me to go as well as you?
Woman. Yes, you must go, or else it is no use. They cannot give the
money to me, except My husband go with me. He told me so.
Man. Well, wife, it's worth the going--but to see: I don't expect a groat
to come of it.

SCENE III.--Kitchen of a small inn. Host and Hostess.
Host. That's a queer customer you've got upstairs! What the deuce is
he?
Hostess. What is that to us? He always pays his way, and handsomely. I
wish there were more like him.

Host. Has he been At home all day?
Hostess. He has not stirred a foot Across the threshold. That's his only
fault-- He's always in the way.
Host. What does he do?
Hostess. Paces about the room, or sits at the window. I sometimes
make an errand to the cupboard, To see what he's about: he looks
annoyed, But does not speak a word. Host. He must be crazed, Or else
in hiding for some scrape or