le mother, to see what I had
learned in London. But could I let still another day pass, for Lorna to
think me faithless?

I felt much inclined to tell dear mother all about Lorna, and how I
loved her, yet had no hope of winning her. Often and often, I had
longed to do this, and have done with it. But the thought of my father's
terrible death, at the hands of the Doones, prevented me. And it seemed
to me foolish and mean to grieve mother, without any chance of my suit
ever speeding. If once Lorna loved me, my mother should know it; and it
would be the greatest happiness to me to have no concealment from her,
though at first she was sure to grieve terribly. But I saw no more
chance of Lorna loving me, than of the man in the moon coming down; or
rather of the moon coming down to the man, as related in old mythology.

Now the merriment of the small birds, and the clear voice of the waters,
and the lowing of cattle in meadows, and the view of no houses (except
just our own and a neighbour's), and the knowledge of everybody around,
their kindness of heart and simplicity, and love of their neighbour's
doings,--all these could not help or please me at all, and many of them
were much against me, in my secret depth of longing and dark tumult of
the mind. Many people may think me foolish, especially after coming from
London, where many nice maids looked at me (on account of my bulk and
stature), and I might have been fitted up with a sweetheart, in spite of
my west-country twang, and the smallness of my purse; if only I had
said the word. But nay; I have contempt for a man whose heart is like
a shirt-stud (such as I saw in London cards), fitted into one to-day,
sitting bravely on the breast; plucked out on the morrow morn, and the
place that knew it, gone.

Now, what did I do but take my chance; reckless whether any one heeded
me or not, only craving Lorna's heed, and time for ten words to her.
Therefore I left the men of the farm as far away as might be, after
making them work with me (which no man round our parts could do, to his
own satisfaction), and then knowing them to be well weary, very unlike
to follow me--and still more unlike to tell of me, for each had his
London present--I strode right away, in good trust of my speed, without
any more misgivings; but resolved to face the worst of it, and to try to
be home for supper.

And first I went, I know not why, to the crest of the broken highland,
whence I had agreed to wat