lieve if we could only get him to Plover's Barrows for a month, he
would be able to hear again. And look at his age! he is not much over
seventy, John, you know; and I hope that you will be able to hear me,
long after you are seventy, John."

"Well," said I, "God settles that. Or at any rate, He leaves us time
to think about those questions, when we are over fifty. Now let me know
what you want, Lorna. The idea of my being seventy! But you would still
be beautiful."

"To the one who loves me," she answered, trying to make wrinkles in her
pure bright forehead: "but if you will have common sense, as you always
will, John, whether I wish it or otherwise--I want to know whether I am
bound, in honour, and in conscience, to tell my dear and good old uncle
what I know about his son?"

"First let me understand quite clearly," said I, never being in a hurry,
except when passion moves me, "what his lordship thinks at present; and
how far his mind is urged with sorrow and anxiety." This was not the
first time we had spoken of the matter.

"Why, you know, John, well enough," she answered, wondering at my
coolness, "that my poor uncle still believes that his one beloved
son will come to light and live again. He has made all arrangements
accordingly: all his property is settled on that supposition. He knows
that young Alan always was what he calls a 'feckless ne'er-do-weel;' but
he loves him all the more for that. He cannot believe that he will die,
without his son coming back to him; and he always has a bedroom ready,
and a bottle of Alan's favourite wine cool from out the cellar; he has
made me work him a pair of slippers from the size of a mouldy boot; and
if he hears of a new tobacco--much as he hates the smell of it--he will
go to the other end of London to get some for Alan. Now you know how
deaf he is; but if any one say, 'Alan,' even in the place outside the
door, he will make his courteous bow to the very highest visitor, and be
out there in a moment, and search the entire passage, and yet let no one
know it."

"It is a piteous thing," I said; for Lorna's eyes were full of tears.

"And he means me to marry him. It is the pet scheme of his life. I am
to grow more beautiful, and more highly taught, and graceful; until
it pleases Alan to come back, and demand me. Can you understand this
matter, John? Or do you think my uncle mad?"

"Lorna, I should be mad myself, to call any other man mad, for hoping."

"Then will you