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That drove her foes with slaughter from her walls,
And much I praised her nobleness, and 'Where,'
Ask'd Walter, 'lives there such a woman now?'

Quick answer'd Lilia, 'There are thousands now
Such women, but convention beats them down :
It is but bringing up; no more than that:
You men have done it: how I hate you all!

O were I some great Princess, I would build
Far off from men a college of my own,

And I would teach them all things: you should see.'

And one said, smiling, 'Pretty were the sight
If our old halls could change their sex, and flaunt
With prudes for proctors, dowagers for deans,
And sweet girl-graduates in their golden hair.

I think they should not wear our rusty gowns,
But move as rich as emperor moths, or Ralph
Who shines so in the corner; yet I fear,

If there were many Lilias in the brood,

However deep you might embower the nest,

Some boy would

spy it.'

At this upon the sward

She tapt her tiny silken-sandal'd foot:

'That's your light way; but I would make it death

For any male thing but to peep at us.'

Petulant she spoke, and at herself she laugh'd;

A rosebud set with little wilful thorns,

And sweet as English air could make her, she:
But Walter hail'd a score of names upon her,
And 'petty Ogress,' and 'ungrateful Puss,'
And swore he long'd at College, only long'd,
All else was well, for she-society.

They boated and they cricketed; they talk'd

At wine, in clubs, of art, of politics;

They lost their weeks; they vext the souls of deans; They rode; they betted; made a hundred friends, And caught the blossom of the flying terms,

But miss'd the mignonette of Vivian-place,

The little hearth-flower Lilia. Thus he spoke,

Part banter, part affection.

'True,' she said,

'We doubt not that. O yes, you miss'd us much.

I'll stake my ruby ring upon it you did.'

She held it out; and as a parrot turns

Up thro' gilt wires a crafty loving eye,

And takes a lady's finger with all care,
And bites it for true heart and not for harm,
So he with Lilia's. Daintily she shriek'd

And wrung it. Doubt my word again!' he said. 'Come, listen! here is proof that you were miss'd:

We seven stay'd at Christmas up to read ;

We seven took one tutor. Never man

So moulder'd in a sinecure as he :

For while our cloisters echo'd frosty feet,

And our long walks were stript as bare as brooms,

We did but talk you over, pledge you all
In wassail; often, like as many girls-

Sick for the hollies and the yews of home
As many little trifling Lilias-play'd

Charades and riddles as at Christmas here,

And what's my thought and when and where and how,

And often told a tale from mouth to mouth

As here at Christmas.'

'I remember that:

A pleasant game,' she said; 'I liked it more

Than magic music, forfeits, all the rest.

But these what kind of tales do men tell men,

I wonder, by themselves?'

A half-disdain,

Perch'd on the pouted blossom of her lips:
And Walter nodded at me ; 'He began,

The rest would follow; so we tost the ball:

What kind of tales? why, such as served to kill

Time by the fire in winter.'

'Kill him now!

Tell one,' she said: 'kill him in summer too.'
And tell one,' cried the solemn maiden aunt.

'Why not a summer's as a winter's tale?

A tale for summer, as befits the time;

And something it should be to suit the place, Grave, moral, solemn, like the mouldering walls About us.'

Walter warp'd his mouth at this

To something so mock-solemn, that I laugh'd,
And Lilia woke with sudden-shrilling mirth

An echo, like an April woodpecker,

Hid in the ruins; till the maiden aunt

(A little sense of wrong had touch'd her face

With colour) turn'd to me: 'Well

as you will

Just as you will,' she said; 'be, if you will,

Yourself your hero.'

'Look then,' added he,

'Since Lilia would be princess, that you stoop

No lower than a prince.'

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