Her lips were raised to my ear.
"Afraid o' love," she whispered: "for when you kissed me a wee bird flew into my heart and whispered that nae woman ever loved without sorrow."
"Dearest," I said. But she stopped me, and continued:--"But I wouldna lose the love for a' the sorrow that may lie in its heart--for it's the sorrow that makes the love worth while."
"My own Mary," I whispered, "in my arms no sorrow shall ever touch you. I will protect you!"
"My love, my love," she murmured brokenly, "ye canna thwart God."
So still she lay that I could hear the beating of my heart. I looked at her sweet face half hidden against my coat. There was upon it a beauty that I had never seen before. Reverence that was half awe swept over me, and I bowed my head, for I had seen into the holy place of a woman's soul.
Suddenly she let her arms fall from my neck, and freeing herself gently from my embrace she seated herself by my side.
"I'm sorry," she said gently. "I ha'e spoilt your happy moments wi' my tears. But they're no tears o' sorrow: they're juist the joy bubbling up frae a heart ower fu'. I can let ye go noo--since I ken ye love me. Love can aye surrender, selfishness aye clings."
"Are you sending me away, Mary?"
"Oh no! No! No! It's because I love you I wad ha'e you go. You're in danger here, and I ken--oh, I ken ye'll come back."