as the last, the Doones had brought her up with full
intention of lawful marriage; and had carefully secluded her from the
wildest of their young gallants. Of course, if they had been next in
succession, the child would have gone down the waterfall, to save any
further trouble; but there was an intercepting branch of some honest
family; and they being outlaws, would have a poor chance (though the law
loves outlaws) against them. Only Lorna was of the stock; and Lorna they
must marry. And what a triumph against the old earl, for a cursed Doone
to succeed him!

As for their outlawry, great robberies, and grand murders, the veriest
child, nowadays, must know that money heals the whole of that. Even if
they had murdered people of a good position, it would only cost about
twice as much to prove their motives loyal. But they had never slain any
man above the rank of yeoman; and folk even said that my father was the
highest of their victims; for the death of Lorna's mother and brother
was never set to their account.

Pure pleasure it is to any man, to reflect upon all these things. How
truly we discern clear justice, and how well we deal it. If any poor
man steals a sheep, having ten children starving, and regarding it as
mountain game (as a rich man does a hare), to the gallows with him. If
a man of rank beats down a door, smites the owner upon the head, and
honours the wife with attention, it is a thing to be grateful for, and
to slouch smitten head the lower.

While we were full of all these things, and wondering what would happen
next, or what we ought ourselves to do, another very important matter
called for our attention. This was no less than Annie's marriage to the
Squire Faggus. We had tried to put it off again; for in spite of all
advantages, neither my mother nor myself had any real heart for it. Not
that we dwelled upon Tom's short-comings or rather perhaps his going too
far, at the time when he worked the road so. All that was covered by
the King's pardon, and universal respect of the neighbourhood. But our
scruple was this--and the more we talked the more it grew upon us--that
we both had great misgivings as to his future steadiness.

For it would be a thousand pities, we said, for a fine, well-grown, and
pretty maiden (such as our Annie was), useful too, in so many ways, and
lively, and warm-hearted, and mistress of 500 pounds, to throw herself
away on a man with a kind of a turn for drinking. If that last we