"There noo, I'm no' angry. You're mine, Mysie. You've
always been mine, an' I'm no' angry. But oh, I love you, Mysie, an' it's
breaking my heart to part frae you. Oh, God!" he groaned in agony. "What
does it a' mean? I canna' bear it,--I canna' bear't," and a wild burst
of grief swept over him as he flung his head and arms upon the bed in a
vain attempt to control his sobbing sorrow.
A long pause--then the white hand was raised and crept slowly over his
shoulder, working its way among the thick shaggy hair of his head as the
fingers strayed from curl to curl, patting him and soothing him as a
child is soothed by a mother's hand. It rested upon his bent head and
the eyes opened again.
"Ay, Rob, I'm vexed for your sake--but it was a' a mistake." She went on
halting and very weak. "It was a' a mistak'--an' naebody is to blame. We
are just--driven alang, an'--we canna help oorsel's--it's awfu' to
hae--sic feelin's--an'--an' no' hae any poo'er--to guide them
richt--it's ay the things we want maist--that we dinna get. Kiss me,
Rob--kiss me, as you kissed me--yon--nicht on the muir. Haud me like
you--an' I think I can--gang content. Oh, Rob,--ay liket you--it was you
I wanted a' the time!"
He clasped her tenderly in his arms as he kissed her mouth, her eyes,
her brow, her hair, stroking her and fondling the dear face, catching
hungrily the smile that came to the pale lips, and lingered there like a
blink of sun upon a hillside after the rest of the landscape is clothed
in shadow.
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