Happy Valentine's Day

From Precious Bane, by Mary Webb.

Then he said, slow, with a laugh at the back of his voice, but with a cosseting sound as well -

"There, there, my dear! None shall touch you now!"

All the strong life of the man was gathered in his eyes, and blazing full on me. So he'd heard! Folks do sometimes when they seem nigh dead. He'd heard and remembered the words I'd said when his head was on my bosom and my heart was well rent with love. What could I say? Nought. Where could I hide my burning face, that his eyes did so dwell on? Nowhere at all.

"Hi, Weaver!" they called. "Waggon be come and we be hindered for ye!"

"I never knew a mother's love, nor yet a sister's, nor yet a sweetheart's." He said it ever so softly, but despert earnest, so that the words burnt in. "But if I had, I should have forgot 'em all three when you said those words to me, Prue Sarn!"