or me, I
could have stamped almost on the heart of any one. It was not the value
of the necklace--I am not so low a hound as that--nor was it even the
damned folly shown by every one of us--it was the thought of Lorna's
sorrow for her ancient plaything; and even more, my fury at the breach
of hospitality.

But Lorna came up to me softly, as a woman should always come; and she
laid one hand upon my shoulder; and she only looked at me. She even
seemed to fear to look, and dropped her eyes, and sighed at me. Without
a word, I knew by that, how I must have looked like Satan; and the evil
spirit left my heart; when she had made me think of it.

"Darling John, did you want me to think that you cared for my money,
more than for me?"

I led her away from the rest of them, being desirous of explaining
things, when I saw the depth of her nature opened, like an everlasting
well, to me. But she would not let me say a word, or do anything by
ourselves, as it were: she said, "Your duty is to your mother: this blow
is on her, and not on me."

I saw that she was right; though how she knew it is beyond me; and I
asked her just to go in front, and bring my mother round a little. For I
must let my passion pass: it may drop its weapons quickly; but it cannot
come and go, before a man has time to think.

Then Lorna went up to my mother, who was still in the chair of elegance;
and she took her by both hands, and said,--

"Dearest mother, I shall fret so, if I see you fretting. And to fret
will kill me, mother. They have always told me so."

Poor mother bent on Lorna's shoulder, without thought of attitude, and
laid her cheek on Lorna's breast, and sobbed till Lizzie was jealous,
and came with two pocket-handkerchiefs. As for me, my heart was lighter
(if they would only dry their eyes, and come round by dinnertime) than
it had been since the day on which Tom Faggus discovered the value of
that blessed and cursed necklace. None could say that I wanted Lorna for
her money now. And perhaps the Doones would let me have her; now that
her property was gone.

But who shall tell of Annie's grief? The poor little thing would have
staked her life upon finding the trinket, in all its beauty, lying under
the pannikin. She proudly challenged me to lift it--which I had done,
long ere that, of course--if only I would take the risk of the spell for
my incredulity. I told her not to talk of spells, until she could spell
a word backwards; and then to