Such was her admiration that she believed it was in his power
to do anything he cared to attempt; it was just possible that it was
this strange sense of unknown power which fascinated her. They had never
been lovers in the accepted sense of the word. They had never "walked
out" as young people in their social station usually do, but yet had
always felt that they were meant for one another.
Only once had Robert kissed her, and that moment ever lived with her a
glowing memory. She had been home and was returning through a moorland
pass, when she came across him lying upon the rough heather, his
thoughts doubtless full of her, for he had seen her in the village, and
knew she must return that way.
"Oh, Rob!" she cried, her face flushing with excitement as she saw him.
"Ye nearly frichted me oot o' my wits the noo."
"Did I, Mysie?" he answered, springing to his feet. "I didna mean to dae
that. Ye'll be getting back, I suppose."
"Ay," she returned simply, and a silence fell upon them, in which both
seemed to lose the power of speaking.
Robert looked at her as she stood there, her full, curved breasts rising
and falling with the excitement of the unexpected meeting, the long
lashes of her eyes sweeping her flushed cheeks, as she stood with
downcast eyes before him.
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