Are you going to Scarborough Fair? (page 58)
Ask him to find me an acre of land,
Parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme,
Between the salt water and the sea strand,
For then he’ll be a true love of mine.
Ask him to plough it with a sheep’s horn,
Parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme,
And sow it all over with one peppercorn,
For then he’ll be a true love of mine.
Ask him to reap it with a sickle of leather,
Parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme,
And gather it up with a rope made of heather,
For then he’ll be a true love of mine.
When he has done and finished his work,
Parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme,
Ask him to come for his cambric shirt,
For then he’ll be a true love of mine.
All Wilhelmina could feel sitting alone on the cold, wet rock was anxiety. The night turned starry, and she waited on. Just the night before, in the Wood, they had kissed, and she had felt secure in his adoration. But now she imagined the little meer-maid he had known and quietly loved all the long years of his youth without hope, and she felt dissatisfied.
The human heart, flexible as a muscle, metaphysical as a bird, intractable as a shooting star, she did not know what to do with hers, or with his.
So she waited on, in the dark, with her thoughts, for him to return from saving the girl who was there before her. Who didn’t even want him.
Her mother, Tang Lili, all the way in the soft climate of Jiangnan in Cathay, who had traveled the world and would do anything for her, could not protect her from this personal, private heartache and self-doubt.