First and sole in my life that has been and surely that shall be;
Could—O, could you believe it, O Elspie, believe it and spurn not?
Is it—possible,—possible, Elspie?
Well,—she answered,
And she was silent some time, and blushed all over, and answered
Quietly, after her fashion, still knitting, Maybe, I think of it,
Though I don’t know that I did: and she paused again; but it may be,
Yes,—I don’t know, Mr. Philip,—but only it feels to me strangely,
Like to the high new bridge, they used to build at, below there,
Over the burn and glen on the road. You won’t understand me.