"
"Verra true, Thamas," answered Tibbie. "Perfect love casteth oot fear,
'cause there's nae room for the twa o' them; and I daursay it wad be
the same wi' the temper."
"But I'm no gaein' to gie in to bein' ill-natert for a' that," said
Thomas, as if alarmed at the possible consequences of the conclusion.
"Na na. Resist ye the deevil, Thamas. Haud at him, man. He's sure to
rin at the lang last. But I'm feared ye'll gang awa' ohn tellt me aboot
the licht and the water. Whan I'm sittin' here o' the girse, hearkenin'
to the water, as it comes murrin', and soufflin', and gurglin', on to
me, and syne by me and awa', as gin it war spinnin' and twistin' a lot
o' bonnie wee sounies a' intil ae muckle gran' soun', it pits me i'
min' o' the text that says, 'His voice was as the sound o' mony
waters.' Noo his face is licht--ye ken that, divna ye?--and gin his
voice be like the water, there maun be something like atween the licht
and the water, ye ken. That's what garred me spier at ye, Thamas."
"Weel, I dinna ken richtly hoo to answer ye, Tibbie; but at this moment
the licht's playin' bonnie upo' the entick--shimmerin' and brakin' upo'
the water, as hit bracks upo' the stanes afore it fa's.
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