at all to my Lorna; but that she was a different
being; not woman enough to do anything bad, yet enough of a woman for
man to adore.

And now a thing came to pass which tested my adoration pretty sharply,
inasmuch as I would far liefer faced Carver Doone and his father, nay,
even the roaring lion himself with his hoofs and flaming nostrils, than
have met, in cold blood, Sir Ensor Doone, the founder of all the colony,
and the fear of the very fiercest.

But that I was forced to do at this time, and in the manner following.
When I went up one morning to look for my seven rooks' nests, behold
there were but six to be seen; for the topmost of them all was gone,
and the most conspicuous. I looked, and looked, and rubbed my eyes, and
turned to try them by other sights; and then I looked again; yes, there
could be no doubt about it; the signal was made for me to come, because
my love was in danger. For me to enter the valley now, during the broad
daylight, could have brought no comfort, but only harm to the maiden,
and certain death to myself. Yet it was more than I could do to keep
altogether at distance; therefore I ran to the nearest place where I
could remain unseen, and watched the glen from the wooded height, for
hours and hours, impatiently.

However, no impatience of mine made any difference in the scene upon
which I was gazing. In the part of the valley which I could see, there
was nothing moving, except the water, and a few stolen cows, going sadly
along, as if knowing that they had no honest right there. It sank very
heavily into my heart, with all the beds of dead leaves around it, and
there was nothing I cared to do, except blow on my fingers, and long for
more wit.

For a frost was beginning, which made a great difference to Lorna and to
myself, I trow; as well as to all the five million people who dwell in
this island of England; such a frost as never I saw before,* neither
hope ever to see again; a time when it was impossible to milk a cow for
icicles, or for a man to shave some of his beard (as I liked to do for
Lorna's sake, because she was so smooth) without blunting his razor
on hard gray ice. No man could 'keep yatt' (as we say), even though he
abandoned his work altogether, and thumped himself, all on the chest and
the front, till his frozen hands would have been bleeding except for the
cold that kept still all his veins.

* If John Ridd lived until the year 1740 (as so strong a man
was b