For I shall long for you always,
My would-be love and friend.
I will pray for you, my jo,
Whate’er happens, wherever I go.
But I leave my heart right here.
It does me no good anywhere...”
Stepping into the room, Sarah blurted, “Don’t.”
He froze and then stood. “Don’t what?”
“Don’t leave your heart here.”
He uttered a humorless laugh. “I’m afraid it’s not a choice. It’s the truth. You have my heart.”
“Then take me with you.”
For a moment he stared at her, then he sighed and set down his guitar. “Sarah, don’t.”
“Don’t what?” It was her turn to give a rueful laugh.
“It’s only a rough little song. I’m still tinkering. It will get better, but—”
“I don’t think I could stand it if it got any better.”
He shook his head. “I don’t want you to make an impetuous decision because of our argument and certainly not because of an insipid ditty sung by firelight. I told you I would wait for an answer.”
“But I am not—”
“And,” he persisted, “I don’t want you to regret tomorrow anything you say tonight. My feelings will not change. Even so, I don’t think I can bear to get my hopes up again and then ... No. I would feel better if you said the same thing by the cold light of morning. Until then, let us make no promises we may not keep.”
“I won’t—”
“Shh.” He pressed a gentle finger to her lips. “Tomorrow will be soon enough. Tell me then.”
“I doubt I shall sleep.”
“I know I shall not. But still. Tomorrow.”
“Very well, then. Until tomorrow.”
On the way up to her bedchamber, she saw Mamma coming out of the water closet. Impulsively, Sarah hurried over and threw her arms around her mother’s warm frame.
“Sarah, what is it?”
“I am in love.”
“Well, I could have told you that. Does this mean you have given him an answer?”
“Not yet. Though I will tomorrow.” With another squeeze and a smile, Sarah floated to her room.
EIGHTEEN
“...it was settled that they should be married as soon as the Writings could be completed. Mary was very eager for a Special Licence and Mr. Watts talked of Banns. A common Licence was at last agreed on.”
