he principal dearth of Devonshire, that it will
not grow many cowslips--which we quite agreed to be the prettiest of
spring flowers; and all the time I was wondering how many black and
deadly deeds these two innocent youths had committed, even since last
Christmas.

At length, a heavy and haughty step sounded along the stone roof of the
way; and then the great Carver Doone drew up, and looked at me rather
scornfully. Not with any spoken scorn, nor flash of strong contumely;
but with that air of thinking little, and praying not to be troubled,
which always vexes a man who feels that he ought not to be despised so,
and yet knows not how to help it.

"What is it you want, young man?" he asked, as if he had never seen me
before.

In spite of that strong loathing which I always felt at sight of him,
I commanded my temper moderately, and told him that I was come for his
good, and that of his worshipful company, far more than for my own.
That a general feeling of indignation had arisen among us at the recent
behaviour of certain young men, for which he might not be answerable,
and for which we would not condemn him, without knowing the rights of
the question. But I begged him clearly to understand that a vile and
inhuman wrong had been done, and such as we could not put up with; but
that if he would make what amends he could by restoring the poor woman,
and giving up that odious brute who had slain the harmless infant, we
would take no further motion; and things should go on as usual. As I put
this in the fewest words that would meet my purpose, I was grieved to
see a disdainful smile spread on his sallow countenance. Then he made me
a bow of mock courtesy, and replied as follows,--

[Illustration: 657.jpg Disdainful smile]

"Sir John, your new honours have turned your poor head, as might have
been expected. We are not in the habit of deserting anything that
belongs to us; far less our sacred relatives. The insolence of your
demand well-nigh outdoes the ingratitude. If there be a man upon Exmoor
who has grossly ill-used us, kidnapped our young women, and slain half
a dozen of our young men, you are that outrageous rogue, Sir John. And
after all this, how have we behaved? We have laid no hand upon your
farm, we have not carried off your women, we have even allowed you to
take our Queen, by creeping and crawling treachery; and we have given
you leave of absence to help your cousin the highwayman, and to come
home with a ti