The Wayward Muse Read Online Free PDF

had.”
    Burne-Jones kept a straight face with great effort. “Of course,” he said.

Three
    J ANE hurried through her morning chores as fast as she could. The moment they were finished, she skipped out the door, ignoring her mother’s shouts to mind herself. For a glorious moment she forgot that she was ugly and poor, and thought only of Rossetti. He was everywhere and in everything. The bright sun was the blinding flash of his smile, the limpid eyes of an adorable urchin were his eyes. The soaring college spires reminded her of his graceful carriage. Passing the tailor she recalled his lovely clothes, and crossing the steps of the Bodleian Library made her think of his poetic speech.
    Despite living in Oxford all of her life, Jane had never been inside any of the colleges. She had never been invited before. It was a world that had always been closed to her, as a girl, and a poor one. Even her brother was stopped just inside the gates. He had seen the open courtyards with their flowering trees, but he had never seen the private chapels, or the classrooms, or the living quarters. Still, Jamey’s limited access was more than she could ever hope for. Until now.
    Jane knew the guard at the gate to the Oxford Union. He gazed at her curiously and asked what her business was in a suggestive tone Jane disliked, but when she gave Rossetti’s name, he let her through.
    The Oxford Union was a debating society open to all Oxford students. It had been established more than thirty years before, but only now had the money been found to build a hall. Jane followed a brick path planted on either side with very young oak trees that one day would provide majesty and shade but that looked a little bit pathetic now with their spindly trunks and leafless branches. The redbrick building with sandstone mullions and cornices was similar in design to many of the other buildings in town but, unmarked by moss or soot or time, it seemed callow and garish.
    The courtyard was full of young men in billowing college robes. They nodded to her as they passed and she saw in face after face an unmarked beauty, the softness of an easier life, an innocence and obliviousness that touched her and angered her at the same time. The young men were glamorous, and beautiful, and utterly stupid in their privilege. She hated them, all of them, all except Rossetti. Somehow he was different. Every now and then a tutor would pass, gray haired and stern looking. She thought they glared at her, wondering what a girl was doing here. Any minute one was going to stop and question her. She would try to explain, but they wouldn’t listen to her and would throw her out. Rossetti would be disappointed again, and angry. He would wash his hands of the stupid local girl who could not manage to appear at the appointed time.
    At last she was at the door. Too intimidated at first to push the door open and step inside, she rapped on it lightly. There was no answer. She waited a few moments and then knocked again. Nothing happened. She had just about decided that she must be brave and push her way in, when the door opened.
    It was Rossetti. He wore the look of amusement she remembered. Jane found that she was overcome with self-consciousness and could hardly look him in the face. He was so beautiful she had trouble catching her breath.
    “My lovely,” he said. “I heard a scratching at the door but I thought it was a cat. Come in.”
    He led her into an enormous, high-ceilinged room that she realized was suddenly, unnaturally quiet. She counted seven other young men in the room. They were all staring at her.
    “Eyes on your work!” Rossetti commanded. “Let Miss Burden become accustomed to our environment. You’ll scare her half to death.” Someone threw a pencil in their direction but the young men obeyed Rossetti. Now the only eyes on her were his.
    “Thank you for your note,” he said. “I felt as if I was in a fairy story, receiving a missive from a captive