ords, and thoughts, that to me it was the
noblest vision even to think about her.

But this was far too bright to last, without bitter break, and the
plunging of happiness in horror, and of passionate joy in agony. My
darling in her softest moments, when she was alone with me, when the
spark of defiant eyes was veiled beneath dark lashes, and the challenge
of gay beauty passed into sweetest invitation; at such times of her
purest love and warmest faith in me, a deep abiding fear would flutter
in her bounding heart, as of deadly fate's approach. She would cling to
me, and nestle to me, being scared of coyishness, and lay one arm around
my neck, and ask if I could do without her.

Hence, as all emotions haply, of those who are more to us than
ourselves, find within us stronger echo, and more perfect answer, so
I could not be regardless of some hidden evil; and my dark misgivings
deepened as the time drew nearer. I kept a steadfast watch on Lorna,
neglecting a field of beans entirely, as well as a litter of young pigs,
and a cow somewhat given to jaundice. And I let Jem Slocombe go to sleep
in the tallat, all one afternoon, and Bill Dadds draw off a bucket of
cider, without so much as a 'by your leave.' For these men knew that my
knighthood, and my coat of arms, and (most of all) my love, were greatly
against good farming; the sense of our country being--and perhaps it may
be sensible--that a man who sticks up to be anything, must allow himself
to be cheated.

But I never did stick up, nor would, though all the parish bade me; and
I whistled the same tunes to my horses, and held my plough-tree, just
the same as if no King, nor Queen, had ever come to spoil my tune or
hand. For this thing, nearly all the men around our parts upbraided me;
but the women praised me: and for the most part these are right, when
themselves are not concerned.

However humble I might be, no one knowing anything of our part of the
country, would for a moment doubt that now here was a great to do and
talk of John Ridd and his wedding. The fierce fight with the Doones so
lately, and my leading of the combat (though I fought not more than need
be), and the vanishing of Sir Counsellor, and the galloping madness of
Carver, and the religious fear of the women that this last was gone to
hell--for he himself had declared that his aim, while he cut through
the yeomanry--also their remorse, that he should have been made to go
thither with all his childre