mple wench; not a breath
of harm shall come to you, if you obey my orders."

"Oh, that I will, sir, that I will: if you will only tell me what to
do."

"Go to your room, without so much as a single word to any one. Bolt
yourself in, and for three hours now, read the Lord's Prayer backwards."

Poor Annie was only too glad to escape, upon these conditions; and the
Counsellor kissed her upon the forehead and told her not to make her
eyes red, because they were much too sweet and pretty. She dropped them
at this, with a sob and a curtsey, and ran away to her bedroom; but as
for reading the Lord's Prayer backwards, that was much beyond her;
and she had not done three words quite right, before the three hours
expired.

Meanwhile the Counsellor was gone. He bade our mother adieu, with so
much dignity of bearing, and such warmth of gratitude, and the high-bred
courtesy of the old school (now fast disappearing), that when he was
gone, dear mother fell back on the chair which he had used last night,
as if it would teach her the graces. And for more than an hour she made
believe not to know what there was for dinner.

"Oh, the wickedness of the world! Oh, the lies that are told of
people--or rather I mean the falsehoods--because a man is better born,
and has better manners! Why, Lorna, how is it that you never speak about
your charming uncle? Did you notice, Lizzie, how his silver hair was
waving upon his velvet collar, and how white his hands were, and every
nail like an acorn; only pink like shell-fish, or at least like shells?
And the way he bowed, and dropped his eyes, from his pure respect for
me! And then, that he would not even speak, on account of his emotion;
but pressed my hand in silence! Oh, Lizzie, you have read me beautiful
things about Sir Gallyhead, and the rest; but nothing to equal Sir
Counsellor."

"You had better marry him, madam," said I, coming in very sternly;
though I knew I ought not to say it: "he can repay your adoration. He
has stolen a hundred thousand pounds."

"John," cried my mother, "you are mad!" And yet she turned as pale as
death; for women are so quick at turning; and she inkled what it was.

"Of course I am, mother; mad about the marvels of Sir Galahad. He has
gone off with my Lorna's necklace. Fifty farms like ours can never make
it good to Lorna."

Hereupon ensued grim silence. Mother looked at Lizzie's face, for she
could not look at me; and Lizzie looked at me, to know: and as f