She'd been a good wife. Comely and passionate, even through bearing 6 children (4 of whom survived) and I'd only strayed but once.
Of course she had known straight away, but had nodded; she wasn't perfect either. But while I loved her, and she me, we'd understood. No one can bear everything alone. And some loads were the cause of each other.
I'd known she had gazed upon others with a lusty eye. To be honest, I wasn't as philosophical as she; fierce jealous rage had filled me with hypocrisy. I learned a valuable lesson in self-delusion, but maybe not well enough.
So, when I fell for a younger lass, it felt less of a betrayal by me than it should have done. I hadn't in all honesty known I was looking, but I think I must have been less honest with my heart than my head. She just asked me two questions:
"Do you want a love that's true or a love that's new? Will ye go, Love?"