My noble Julian! I will go with you
To sunset, if you will. My father gone!
Julian, there's none to love me now but you.
You _will_ love me, Julian?--always?

_Julian_.
I but fear
That your heart, Lilia, is not big enough
To hold the love wherewith my heart would fill it.

_Lilia_.
I know why you think that; and I deserve it.
But try me, Julian. I was very silly.
I could not help it. I was ill, you know;
Or weak at least. May I ask you, Julian,
How your arm is to-day?

_Julian_.
Almost well, child.
Twill leave an ugly scar, though, I'm afraid.

_Lilia_.
Never mind that, if it be well again.

_Julian_.
I do not mind it; but when I remember
That I am all yours, then I grudge that scratch
Or stain should be upon me--soul, body, yours.
And there are more scars on me now than I
Should like to make you own, without confession.