Page:Aurora Leigh a Poem.djvu/335

Rh Although you thought to have shut a tedious book And farewell. Ah, you dog-eared such a page, And here you find me.’ Did he touch my hand, Or but my sleeve? I trembled, hand and foot,— He must have touched me.—‘Will you sit?’ I asked, And motioned to a chair; but down he sate, A little slowly, as a man in doubt, Upon the couch beside me,—couch and chair Being wheeled upon the terrace. ‘You are come, My cousin Romney?—this is wonderful. But all is wonder on such summer-nights; And nothing should surprise us any more, Who see that miracle of stars. Behold.’

I signed above, where all the stars were out, As if an urgent heat had started there A secret writing from a sombre page, A blank last moment, crowded suddenly With hurrying splendours. ‘Then you do not know— He murmured. ‘Yes, I know,’ I said, ‘I know. I had the news from Vincent Carrington. And yet I did not think you’d leave the work In England, for so much even,—though, of course, You’ll make a work-day of your holiday, And turn it to our Tuscan people’s use,— Who much need helping since the Austrian boar