“Thora will choose for herself.”
“Perhaps, that may be so. Thora has been spoiled. Her marriage need not yet be thought of. In two or three years, we will consider it. The little one has not yet any dreams of that kind.”
“Such dreams come in a moment–when you are not thinking of them.”
In fact, at that very moment Thora was learning the mystery of “falling in love”; and there is hardly a more vital thing in life than this act. For it is something taking place in the subconscious self; it is a revolution, and a growth. It happened that after dinner, Conall wished to hear Ian sing again that loveliest of all metrical Collects, “Lord of All Power and Might,” and Thora went with Ian to do her part as accompanist on the piano. As they sang Conall appeared to fall asleep, and no more music was asked for.
Then Ian lifted a book full of illustrations of the English lake district, and they sat down on the sofa to examine it. Ian had once been at Keswick and Ambleside, and he began to tell her about Lake Windemere and these lovely villages. He was holding Thora’s hand and glancing constantly into her face, and before he recognised what he was saying, Ambleside and Windemere were quite forgotten, and he was telling Thora that he loved her with an everlasting love. He vowed that he had loved her in his past lives, and would love her, and only her, forever. And he looked so handsome and spoke in words of the sweetest tenderness, and indeed was amazed at his own passionate eloquence, but knew in his soul that every word he said was true.
And Thora, the innocent little one, was equally sure of his truth. She blushed and listened, while he drew her closer to his side calling her “his own, his very own!” and begging her to promise that she would “marry him, and no other man, in the whole earth.”
And Thora promised him what he wished and for one-half hour they were in Paradise.
Now, how could this love affair have come to perfection so rapidly? Because it was the natural and the proper way. True love dates its birth from the first glance. It is the coming together of two souls, and in their first contact love flashes forth like flame. And then their influence over each other is like that gravitation which one star exerts over another star.
But much that passes for love is not love. It is only a prepossession, pleasant and profitable, promising many every-day advantages. True love is a deep and elemental thing, a secret incredible glory, in a way, it is even a spiritual triumph. And we should have another name for love like this. For it is the long, long love, that has followed us through ages, the healing love, the Comforter! In the soul of a young, innocent girl like Thora, it is a kind of piety, and ought to be taken with a wondering thankfulness.
An emotion so spiritual and profound was beyond Sunna’s understanding. She divined that there had been some sort of love-making, but she was unfamiliar with its present indications. Her opinion, however, was that Ian had offered himself to Thora, and been rejected; in no other way could she account for the far-offness of both parties. Thora indeed was inexplicable. She not only refused to show Sunna her Easter dress, she would not enter into any description of it.
“That is a very remarkable thing,” she said to her grandfather, as they walked home together. “I think the young man made love to Thora and even asked her to marry him, and Thora was frightened and said ‘No!’ and she is likely sorry now that she did not say ‘Yes.’”
“To say ‘No!’ would not have frightened thee, I suppose?”
“That is one of the disagreeable things women have to get used to.”
“How often must a woman say ‘No!’ in order to get used to it?”
“That depends on several small things; for instance I am very sympathetic. I have a tender heart! Yes, and so I suffer.”
“I am glad to know of thy sympathy. If I asked thee to marry a young man whom I wished thee to marry, would thou do it–just to please me?”
“It would depend–on my mood that day.”
“Say, it was thy sympathetic mood?”
“That would be unfavourable. Of the others I should think, and I should feel that I was cruel; if I took all hope from them.”
“Thou wilt not be reasonable. I am not joking. Would thou marry Boris to please me?”
“Boris has offended me. He must come to me, and say, ‘I am sorry.’ He must take what punishment I choose for his rudeness to me. Then, I may forgive him.”
“And marry him?”
“Only my angel knows, if it is so written. Men do not like to do as their women say they must do. Is there any man in the Orcades who dares to say ‘No,’ to his wife’s ‘Yes?’”
“What of Sandy Stark?”
“Sandy is a Scot! I do not use a Scotch measure for a Norseman. Thou art not a perfect Norseman, but yet, even in Edinburgh, there is no Scot that could be thy measure. I should have to say–‘thou art five inches taller than the Scot at thy side, and forty pounds heavier, and nearly twice as strong.’ That would not be correct to an ounce, but it is as near as it is possible to come between Norse and Scot.”
“Thou art romancing!”
“As for the Norse women–”
“About Norse women there is no need for thee to teach thy grandfather. I know what Norse women are like. If I did not know, I should have married again.”
“Well then, Barbara Brodie is a good specimen of a capable Norse woman and I have noticed one thing about them, that I feel ought to be better understood.”
“Chut! What hast thou understood? Talk about it, and let thy wisdom be known.”
“Well then, it is this thing–Norse women always outlive their husbands. Thou may count by tens and hundreds the widows in this town. The ‘maidens of blushing fifteen’ have no opportunities; the widow of fifty asks a young man into her beautiful home and makes him acquainted with the burden of her rents and dividends and her share in half a dozen trading boats, and he takes to the golden lure and marries himself like the rest of the world. Thou would have been re-married long ago but for my protection. I have had a very disagreeable day and–”
“Then go to thy bed and put an end to it.”
“My new dress is crushed and some way or other I have got a spot on the front breadth. Is it that Darwin book thou art looking for?”
“Yes.”
“Would thou like to read a chapter to me?”
“No, I would not.”
“Grandfather, I can understand it. I like clever men. Can thou introduce me to him–to Darwin?”
“He would not care to see thee. Clever men do not want clever wives; so if thou art thinking of a clever husband keep thy ‘blue stockings’ well under thy petticoats.”
“And grandfather, do thou keep out of the way of the widows of Orkney or thou wilt find thyself inside of a marriage ring.”
“Not while thou remains unmarried. Few women would care to look after thy welfare. I am used to it, long before thou had been short-coated, I had to walk thee to sleep in my arms.”
“Yes,” laughed Sunna, “I remember that. I felt myself safest with thee.”
“Thou remembers nothing of the kind. At six months old, thou could neither compare nor remember.”
“But thou art mistaken. I was born with perfect senses. Ere I was twenty-four hours old, I had selected thee as the most suitable person to walk me to sleep. I think that was a proof of my perfect intelligence. One thing more, and then I will let thee read. I am going to marry Boris Ragnor, and then the widow Brodie would–take charge of thee.” She shut the door to these words and Adam heard her laughing all the way to her own room. Then he rubbed his hand slowly over and over his mouth and said to himself–“She shall have her say-so; Boris is the only man on the Islands who can manage her.”
After the departure of the Vedders, Rahal and her sister Brodie went upstairs, taking Thora with them. She went cheerfully though a little reluctantly. She liked to hear Ian talk. She had thought of asking him to sing; but she was satisfied with the one straight, long look which flashed between them, as Ian bid her “good night”; for–
He looked at her as a lover can;
She looked at him as one who awakes,
The past was a sleep and her life began.
Then she went to her room, and thought of Ian until she fell asleep and dreamed of him.
For nearly two hours Ian remained with Conall Ragnor. The Railway Mania was then at its height in England, and the older man was delighted with Ian’s daring stories of its mad excitement. Ian had seen and talked with Hudson, the draper’s clerk, who had just purchased a fine ducal residence and estate from the results of his reckless speculations. Ian knew all the Scotch lines, he had even full faith in the Caledonian when it was first proposed and could hardly win any attention. “Every one said a railway between England and Scotland would not pay, Mr. Ragnor,” said Ian.
“I would have said very different,” replied Conall. “It would be certain to pay. Why not?”
“Because there would be no returns,” laughed Ian, and then Conall laughed also, and wished that Boris had been there to learn whatever Ian might teach him.
“Hast thou speculated in railway stock yet,” he asked.
“No, sir. I have not had the money to do so.”
“How would thou buy if thou had?”
“I would buy when no one else was buying, and when everyone else was buying, I would keep cool, and sell. A very old and clever speculator gave me that advice as a steady rule, saying it was ‘his only guide.’”
This was the tenor of the men’s conversation until near midnight, and then Ragnor went with Ian to the door of his room and bid him a frank and friendly good night. And as he stood a moment handfast with the youth, his conscience troubled him a little and he said: “Ian, Ian, thou art a wise lad about this world’s business, but thou must not be forgetting that there is another world after this.”
“I do not forget that, sir.”
“Bishop Hedley is a greater and wiser man than all the railway nabobs thou hast spoken of.”
“I think so, sir! I do indeed!” and the mutual smile and nod that followed required no further “good night.”
It was a lovely, silent night. The very houses looked as if they were asleep; and there was not a sound either in the town on the brown pier or the moonlit sea. It was a night full of the tranquillity of God. Men and women looked into its peace, and carried its charm into their dreams. For most fine spirits that dwell by the sea have an elemental sympathy with strange oracles and dreams and old Night. In the morning, Conall Ragnor was the first to awaken. He went at once to fling open his window. Then he cried out in amazement and wonder, and awakened his wife:–
“Rahal! Rahal!” he shouted. “Come here! Come quick! Look at the town! It is hung with flags. The ships in the harbour–flying are their flags also! And there is a ship just entering the harbour and her colours are flying! And there are the guns! They are saluting her from the garrison! It must be a man-of-war! I wonder if the Queen is coming to see us at last! If thou art ready, call Thora and Barbara. Something is up! Thou may hear the town now, all tip-on-top with excitement!”
“Why did not thou call us sooner, Coll?”
“I slept late and long.”
“But thou must have heard the town noises?”
“A confused noise passed through my ears, a noise full of hurry like a morning dream, that was all. Now, I am going for my swim and I will bring the news home with me.”
But long before it was within expectation of Ragnor’s return, the three women standing at the open door saw Ian coming rapidly to the house from the town. His walk was swift and full of excitement. His head was thrown upward, and he kept striking himself on the right side, just over the place where his ancestors had worn their dirks or broadswords. As soon as he saw the three women he flung his Glengarry skyward and shouted a ringing “Hurrah!”
As he approached them, all were struck with his remarkable beauty, his manly figure, his swift graceful movements and his handsome face suffused with the brightness of fiery youth. Through their long black lashes his eyes were shining and glowing and full of spirit, and indeed his whole personality was instinct with verve and fire. Anyone watching his approach would have said–“Here comes a youth made to lead a rattling charge of cavalry.”
“Whatever is the matter with you, Ian?” cried Mistress Brodie. “You are surely gone daft.”
“No indeed!” he answered. “I seem at this very hour to have just found myself and my senses.”
“What is all the fuss about, Ian?” asked Rahal.
“England has gone to war at the long last with the cruel, crafty black Bear of the North.”
“Well then, it is full time she did so, there are none will say different.”
“And,” continued Ian, “there is a ship now in harbour carrying enlisting officers–you may see her; she is to call at the Orkney and Shetland Islands for recruits for the navy, and Great Scot! she will get them! All she wants! She could take every man out of Kirkwall!”
“The Mayor and Captain Ragnor will not permit her to do so. She will have to leave men to manage the fishing,” said Rahal.
“I thought the women could do that,” said Ian.
“You do not know what you are talking about. It takes two or three men to lift a net full of fish out of the water, and they are about done up if they manage it. Come in and get your breakfast. If your news be true, there is no saying when Ragnor will get home. He will have some reasoning with his men to do, he cannot spare many of them.”
“I have a good idea,” said Mistress Brodie. “I will give a dance on Friday night for the enlisting officers, and we will invite all the presentable young men, and all the prettiest girls, to meet them.”
“But you will be too late on Friday. The cutter and her crew will leave Thursday morning early,” said Ian.
“Then say Wednesday night.”
“That might do. I could tell the men freshly enlisted to wear a white ribbon in their coats–”
“No, no, no!” cried Rahal. “What are you saying, Ian? A white favour is a Stuart favour. You would set the men fighting in the very dance room. There is no excuse in the Orkneys for a Stuart memory.”
“I was not thinking of the Stuarts. Have they not done bothering yet?”
“In the Scotch heart the Stuart lives forever,” said Rahal, with a sigh.
But the dance was decided on and some preparations made for it as soon as breakfast was over. Ian was enthusiastic on the matter and Thora caught his enthusiasm very readily, and before night, all Kirkwall was preparing to feast and rejoice because England was going to make the great Northern Bear–“the Bear that walks like a man”–stay in the North where he belonged.
CHAPTER V
SUNNA AND THORA
Love, the old, old troubler of the world.
Love has reasons, of which reason knows nothing.
Alas, how easily things go wrong!
A sigh too much, or a kiss too long,
And there follows a mist and a weeping rain
And life is never the same again.
No sooner was Mrs. Brodie’s intention known, than all her friends were eager to help her. There was truly but little time between Monday morning and Wednesday night; but many hands make light work, and old and young offered their services in arranging for what it pleased all to consider as a kind of national thanksgiving.
The unanimity of this kindness gave Rahal a slight attack of a certain form of jealousy, to which she had been subject for many years, and she asked her husband, as she had done often before, “Why is it, Coll, that every woman in the town is eager to help and encourage Barbara if she only speaks of having a dance or dinner; but if I, thy wife, am the giver of pleasure, I am left to do all without help or any show of interest. It troubles me, Coll.”
And Coll answered as he always did answer–“It is thy superiority, Rahal. Is there any woman we know, who would presume to give thee advice or counsel? And it is well understood by all of them that thou cannot thole an obligation. Thou, and thy daughter, and thy servants are sufficient for all thy social plans; and why should thou be bothered with a lot of old and young women? Thy sister Brodie loves a crowd about her, and she says ‘thank thee’ to all and sundry, as easily as she takes a drink of water. It chokes thee to say ‘thanks’ to any one.”
So Rahal was satisfied, and went with the rest to help Mistress Brodie prepare for her dance. There were women in the kitchen making pies and custards and jellies, and women in her parlours cleaning and decorating them, and women in the great hall taking up carpets because it was a favourite place for reels, and women washing China and trimming lamps. Thora was doing the shopping, Ian was carrying the invitations; and every one who had been favoured with one had not only said “Yes,” but had also asked if there was anything they could loan, or do, to help the impromptu festival. Thus, Mrs. Harold Baikie sent her best service of China, and the Faes sent several extra large lamps, and the bride of Luke Serge loaned her whole supply of glassware, and Rahal took over her stock of table silver; and Mistress Brodie received every loan–useful or not–with the utmost delight and satisfaction.
On Wednesday afternoon, however, she was faced by a condition she did not know how to manage. Ian came to her in a hurry, saying, “My friend, McLeod, is longing for an invitation from you, and he has asked me to request one. Surely you will send him the favour! Yes, I know you will.”
“You are knowing too much, Ian. What can I do? You know well, laddie, he is not popular with the best set here.”
“I would not mind the ‘best set’ if I were you. What makes them ‘the best’? Just their own opinion of themselves. McLeod is of gentle birth, he is handsome and good-hearted, you will like him as soon as you speak to him. There is another ‘best set’ beside the one Adam Vedder leads; I would like some one to take down that old man’s conceit of himself–there is nothing wrong with McLeod! Yes, he is Highland Scotch–”
“There! that is enough, Ian! Go your ways and bid the young man. Ask him in your own name.”
“No, Mistress, I will not do that. The invitation carries neither honour nor good will without your name.”
“Well then, my name be it. My name has been so much used lately, I think I will change it.”
“Take my name then. I will be proud indeed if you will.”
“You are aye daffing, Ian; I am o’er busy for nonsense the now. Give the Mac a hint that tartans are not necessary.”
“But I cannot do that. I am going to wear the Macrae tartan.”
“You can let that intent go by.”
“No, I can not! A certain ‘yes’ may depend on my wearing the Macrae tartan.”
“Well, checked cloth is bonnier than black broadcloth to some people. I don’t think Thora Ragnor is among that silly crowd. There is not a more quarrelsome dress than a tartan kilt–and I’m thinking the Brodies were ill friends with the Macraes in the old days.”
“The Brodies are not Highlanders.”
“You are a shamefully ignorant man, Ian Macrae. The Brodies came from Moray, and are the only true lineal descendants of Malcolm Thane of Brodie in the reign of Alexander the Third, lawful King of Scotland. What do you think of the Brodies now?”
“The Macrae doffs his bonnet to them; but–”
“If you say another word, the McLeod will be out of it–sure and final.”
So Ian laughingly left the room, and Mistress Brodie walked to the window and watched him speeding towards the town. “He is a wonderful lad!” she said to herself. “And I wish he was my lad! Oh why were all my bairns lasses? They just married common bodies and left me! Oh for a lad like Ian Macrae!” Then with a great sigh, she added: “It is all right. I would doubtless have spoiled and mismanaged him!”
It is not to be supposed that Sunna Vedder kept away from all this social stir and preparation. She was first and foremost in everything during Monday and Tuesday, but Wednesday she reserved herself altogether for the evening. No one saw her until the noon hour; then she came to the dinner table, for she had an entirely fresh request to make, one which she was sure would require all her personal influence to compass.
She prefaced it with the intelligence that Boris had arrived during the night, and that Elga had met him in the street–“looking more handsome than any man ought to look, except upon his wedding day.”
“And on that day,” said Adam, gloomily, “a man has generally good cause to look ugly.”
“But if he was going to marry me, Grandfather, how then?”
“He would doubtless look handsome. Men usually do when they are on the road of destruction.”
“Grandfather! I have made up my mind to marry Boris, and lead him the way I want him to go. That will always be the way thou chooseth.”
“How comes that?”
“I loved thee first of all. I shall always love thee first. Boris played me false, I must pay him back. I must make him suffer. Those Ragnors–all of them–put on such airs! They make me sick.”
“What art thou after? What favour art thou seeking?”
“Thou knows how the girls will try to outdress each other at this Brodie affair–”
“It is too late for a new dress–what is it thou wants now?”
“I want thee to go to the bank and get me my mother’s necklace to wear just this one night.”
“I will not. I gave thy dead mother a promise.”
“Break it, for a few hours. My Easter dress is not a dancing dress. I have no dancing dress but the pretty white silk thou gave me last Christmas–and I have no ornaments at all–none whatever, fit to wear with it.”
“There are always flowers–”
“Flowers! There is not a flower in Kirkwall. Easter and old Mistress Brodie have used up every daisy–besides, white silk ought to have jewels.”
Adam shook his head positively.
“My mother wishes me to have what I want. Thou ought not to keep it from me.”
“She told me to give thee her necklace on thy twenty-first birthday–not before.”
“That is so silly! What better is my twenty-first birthday than any other day? Grandfather, I cannot love thee more, because my love for thee is already a perfect love; but I will be such a good girl if thou wilt give me what I want, O so much I want it! I will be so obedient! I will do everything thou desires! I will even marry Boris Ragnor.” And this urgent request was punctuated with kisses and little fondling strokes of her hand, and Adam finally asked–
“How shall I answer thy mother when she accuses me of breaking my promise to her?”
“I will answer for thee. O dear! It is growing late! If thou dost not hurry, the bank will be closed, and then I shall be sick with disappointment, and it will be thy fault.”
Then Adam rose and left the house and Sunna, having seen that he took the proper turn in the road, called for a cup of tea and having refreshed herself with it, went upstairs to lay out and prepare everything for her toilet. And as she went about this business she continually justified herself:–
“It is only natural I should have my necklace,” she thought. “Norse women have always adored gold and silver and gems, and in the old days their husbands sailed long journeys and fought battles for what their women wanted. My great Aunt Christabelle often told me that many of the old Shetland and Orkney families had gold ornaments and uncut gems, hundreds of years old, hid away. I would not wonder if Grandfather has some! I dare say the bank’s safe is full of them! I do not care for them but I do want my mother’s wedding necklace–and I am going to have it. Right and proper it is, I should have it now. Mother would say so if she were here. Girls are women earlier than they were in her day. Twenty-one, indeed! I expect to be married long before I am twenty-one.”
In less than an hour she began to watch the road for her grandfather’s return. Very soon she saw him coming and he had a small parcel in his hand. Her heart gave a throb of satisfaction and she began to unplait her manifold small braids: “I shall not require to go to bed,” she murmured. “Grandfather has my necklace. He will want to take it back to the bank tomorrow–I shall see about that–I promised–yes, I know! But there are ways–out of a promise.”
She was, of course, delightfully grateful to receive the necklace, and Vedder could not help noticing how beautiful her loosened hair looked. Its length and thickness and waves of light colour gave to her stately, blonde beauty a magical grace, and Vedder was one of those men who admire the charms of his own family as something naturally greater than the same charms in any other family. “The Vedders carry their beauty with an air,” he said, and he was right. The Vedders during the course of a few centuries of social prominence had acquired that air of superiority which impresses, and also frequently offends.
Certainly, Sunna Vedder in white silk and a handsome necklace of rubies and diamonds was an imposing picture; and Adam Vedder, in spite of his sixty-two years, was an imposing escort. It would be difficult to say why, for he was a small man in comparison with the towering Norsemen by whom he was surrounded. Yet he dominated and directed any company he chose to favour with his presence; and every man in Kirkwall either feared or honoured him. Sunna had much of his natural temperament, but she had not the driving power of his cultivated intellect. She relied on her personal beauty and the many natural arts with which Nature has made women a match for any antagonist. Had she not heard her grandfather frequently say “a beautiful woman is the best armed creature that God has made! She is as invincible as a rhinoceros!”
This night he had paid great attention to his own toilet. He was fashionably attired, neat as a new pin, and if not amiable, at least exceedingly polite. He had leaning on his arm what he considered the most beautiful creature in Scotland, and he assumed the manners of her guardian with punctilious courtesy.
There was a large company present when the Vedders reached Mrs. Brodie’s–military men, a couple of naval officers, gentlemen of influence, and traders of wealth and enterprise; with a full complement of women “divinely tall and fair.” Sunna made the sensation among them she expected to make. There was a sudden pause in conversation and every eye filled itself with her beauty. For just a moment, it seemed as if there was no other person present.
Then Mrs. Brodie and Colonel Belton came to meet them, and Sunna was left in the latter’s charge. “Will you now dance, Miss Vedder?” he asked.
“Let us first walk about a little, Colonel. I want to find my friend, Thora Ragnor.”
“I have long desired an introduction to Miss Ragnor. Is she not lovely?”
“Yes, but now only for one man. A stranger came here last week, and she was captured at once.”
“How remarkable! I thought that kind of irresponsible love had gone quite out of favour and fashion.”
“Not so! This youth came, saw, and conquered.”
“Is it the youth I see with Ken McLeod?”
“The same. Look! There they are, together as usual.”
“She is very sweet and attractive.”
Sunna answered this remark by asking Thora to honour Colonel Belton with her company for a short time, saying: “In the interval I will take care of Ian Macrae.” Then Thora stood up in her innocence and loveliness and she was like some creature of more ethereal nature than goes with flesh and blood. For the eye took her in as a whole, and at first noticed neither her face nor her dress in particular. Her dress was only of white tarlatan, a thin, gauze-like material long out of fashion. It is doubtful if any woman yet remembers its airy, fairy sway, and graceful folds. The filmy robe, however, was plentifully trimmed with white satin ribbon, and the waist was entirely of satin trimmed with tarlatan. The whole effect was girlish and simple, and Thora needed no other ornament but the pink and white daisies at her belt.
However, if Sunna expected Thora’s manner and conversation to match the simplicity of her dress, she was disappointed. In Love’s school women learn with marvellous rapidity, and Thora astonished her by falling readily into a conversation of the most up-to-date social character. She had caught the trick from Ian, a little playful fencing round the most alluring of subjects, yet it brought out the simplicity of her character, while it also revealed its purity and intelligence.
Dancing had commenced when Mrs. Ragnor entered the room on the arm of her son Boris. Boris instantly looked around for Sunna and she was dancing with McLeod. All the evening afterwards Boris danced, but never once with Sunna, and Adam Vedder watched the young man with scorn. He was the most desirable party in the room for any girl and he quite neglected the handsome Sunna Vedder. That was not his only annoyance. McLeod was dancing far too often with Sunna, and even the beautiful youth Ian Macrae had only asked her hand once; and Adam was sure that Thora Ragnor had been the suggester of that act of politeness. Girls far inferior to Sunna in every respect had received more attention than his granddaughter. He was greatly offended, but he appeared to turn his back on the whole affair and to be entirely occupied in conversation with Conall Ragnor and Colonel Belton concerning the war with Russia.
Every way the evening was to Sunna a great disappointment, in many respects she felt it to be a great humiliation; and the latter feeling troubled her more for her grandfather than for herself. She knew he was mortified, for he did not speak to her as they walked through the chill, damp midnight to their home. Mrs. Brodie had urged Adam and Sunna to put the night past at her house, but Adam had been proof against all her suggestions, and even against his own desires. So he satisfied his temper by walking home and insisting on Sunna doing likewise.
It was a silent, unhappy walk. Adam said not a word to Sunna and she would not open the way for his anger to relieve itself. When they reached home they found a good fire in the room full of books which Adam called his own, and there they went. Then Sunna let her long dress fall down, and put out her sandalled feet to the warmth of the fire. Adam glanced into her face and saw that it was full of trouble.
“Go to thy bed, Sunna,” he said. “Of this night thou must have had enough.”
“I have had too much, by far. If only thou loved me!”