d kept her eyes upon me; large eyes of a softness, a
brightness, and a dignity which made me feel as if I must for ever love
and yet for ever know myself unworthy. Unless themselves should fill
with love, which is the spring of all things. And so I could not answer
her, but was overcome with thinking and feeling and confusion. Neither
could I look again; only waited for the melody which made every word
like a poem to me, the melody of her voice. But she had not the least
idea of what was going on with me, any more than I myself had.

'I think, Master Ridd, you cannot know,' she said, with her eyes taken
from me, 'what the dangers of this place are, and the nature of the
people.'

'Yes, I know enough of that; and I am frightened greatly, all the time,
when I do not look at you.'

She was too young to answer me in the style some maidens would have
used; the manner, I mean, which now we call from a foreign word
'coquettish.' And more than that, she was trembling from real fear of
violence, lest strong hands might be laid on me, and a miserable end
of it. And to tell the truth, I grew afraid; perhaps from a kind of
sympathy, and because I knew that evil comes more readily than good to
us.

Therefore, without more ado, or taking any advantage--although I would
have been glad at heart, if needs had been, to kiss her (without any
thought of rudeness)--it struck me that I had better go, and have no
more to say to her until next time of coming. So would she look the more
for me and think the more about me, and not grow weary of my words and
the want of change there is in me. For, of course, I knew what a churl I
was compared to her birth and appearance; but meanwhile I might improve
myself and learn a musical instrument. 'The wind hath a draw after
flying straw' is a saying we have in Devonshire, made, peradventure, by
somebody who had seen the ways of women.

'Mistress Lorna, I will depart'--mark you, I thought that a powerful
word--'in fear of causing disquiet. If any rogue shot me it would grieve
you; I make bold to say it, and it would be the death of mother. Few
mothers have such a son as me. Try to think of me now and then, and I
will bring you some new-laid eggs, for our young blue hen is beginning.'

'I thank you heartily,' said Lorna; 'but you need not come to see me.
You can put them in my little bower, where I am almost always--I mean
whither daily I repair to read and to be away from them.'

'Only show me whe