tle. And now, how do you requite us? By inflaming the
boorish indignation at a little frolic of our young men; and by
coming with insolent demands, to yield to which would ruin us. Ah, you
ungrateful viper!"

As he turned away in sorrow from me, shaking his head at my badness, I
became so overcome (never having been quite assured, even by people's
praises, about my own goodness); moreover, the light which he threw upon
things differed so greatly from my own, that, in a word--not to be too
long--I feared that I was a villain. And with many bitter pangs--for
I have bad things to repent of--I began at my leisure to ask myself
whether or not this bill of indictment against John Ridd was true. Some
of it I knew to be (however much I condemned myself) altogether out of
reason; for instance, about my going away with Lorna very quietly, over
the snow, and to save my love from being starved away from me. In this
there was no creeping neither crawling treachery; for all was done with
sliding; and yet I was so out of training for being charged by other
people beyond mine own conscience, that Carver Doone's harsh words came
on me, like prickly spinach sown with raking. Therefore I replied, and
said,--

"It is true that I owe you gratitude, sir, for a certain time of
forbearance; and it is to prove my gratitude that I am come here now. I
do not think that my evil deeds can be set against your own; although I
cannot speak flowingly upon my good deeds as you can. I took your Queen
because you starved her, having stolen her long before, and killed her
mother and brother. This is not for me to dwell upon now; any more than
I would say much about your murdering of my father. But how the balance
hangs between us, God knows better than thou or I, thou low miscreant,
Carver Doone."

I had worked myself up, as I always do, in the manner of heavy men;
growing hot like an ill-washered wheel revolving, though I start with
a cool axle; and I felt ashamed of myself for heat, and ready to ask
pardon. But Carver Doone regarded me with a noble and fearless grandeur.

"I have given thee thy choice, John Ridd," he said in a lofty manner,
which made me drop away under him; "I always wish to do my best with the
worst people who come near me. And of all I have ever met with thou art
the very worst, Sir John, and the most dishonest."

Now after all my labouring to pay every man to a penny, and to allow the
women over, when among the couch-grass (whic