“D'ye think I don't know?" he asked softly. "It's me that has the easy part now. For if ye feel for me as I do for you-then I'm asking you to tear out your heart and live without it.”
“For if you feel for me as i do for you - then I am asking you to tear out your heart and live without it.”
“There are things that I canna tell you, at least not yet. And I'll ask nothing of ye that ye canna give me. But what I would ask of ye---when you do tell me something, let it be the truth. And I'll promise ye the same. We have nothing now between us, save---respect, perhaps. And I think that respect has maybe room for secrets, but not for lies. Do ye agree?”
“There are things ye maybe canna tell me, he had said. I willna ask ye, or force ye. But when ye do tell me something, let it be the truth. There is nothing between us now but respect, and respect has room for secrets, I think - but not for lies.”
“A cold supper, were you thinking? I asked dubiously.I was not, he said firmly, I mean to light a roaring fire in the kitchen hearth, fry up a dozen eggs in butter, and eat them all, then lay ye down on the hearth rug and roger ye 'till you - is that all right? he inquired, noticing my look.'Til I what? I asked fascinated by his description of the evening's program.'Til ye burst into flame and take me with ye, I suppose, he said, and stooping, swooped me up into his arms and carried me across the darkened threshold.”
“It's a bit undignified to get into, but it's verra easy to take off""How do you get into it?" I asked curiously."Well, ye lay it out on the ground, like this" -he knelt, spreading the cloth so that it lined the leaf-strewn hollow- "and then ye pleat it every few inches, lie down on it, and row."I burst out laughing, and sank to my knees, helping to smooth the thick tartan wool.”
“Only you," he said, so softly I could barely hear him. "To worship ye with my body, give ye all the service of my hands. To give ye my name, and all my heart and soul with it. Only you. Because ye will not let me lie--and yet ye love me.”