“Do ye know?” he said softly, somewhere in the black, small hours of the night. “Do ye know what it’s like to be with someone that way? To try all ye can, and seem never to have the secret of them?” “Yes,” I said, thinking of Frank. “Yes, I do know.” “I thought perhaps ye did.” He was quiet for a moment, and then his hand touched my hair lightly, a shadowy blur in the firelight. “And then …” he whispered, “then to have it back again, that knowing. To be free in all ye say or do, and know that it is right.” “To say ‘I love you,’ and mean it with all your heart,” I said softly to the dark.
