“O yea, yea,” she said, “and over-well as now.”
“Art thou wedded?” said he.
“Yea,” she said, “unto thee.”
“O would that we were, would that we were!” said Osberne.
“O!” she said, “be not sad this morning, or wish for aught so that it grieve thee. Bethink thee how dear this moment is, now at last when our eyes behold each other.”
“Hast thou come here often to look for me?” said he. She said: “It was the fourteenth of May was a year that we parted; now is this the eighth day of October. That makes five hundred and eleven days: not oftener than that have I come here to look for thee.”
So piteous-kind she looked as she spake, that his bosom heaved and his face changed, and he wept. She said: “I wish I had not said that to make thee weep for me, my dear.” He spake as his face cleared: “Na
