‘She is the best little thing in the world,’ said Lorna, softly laughing; ‘and the queerest, and the truest. Nothing will bribe her against me. If she seems to be on the other side, never, never doubt her. Now no more of your “coortin’,” John! I love you far too well for that. Yes, yes, ever so much! If you will take a mean advantage of me. And as much as ever you like to imagine; and then you may double it, after that. Only go, do go, good John; kind, dear, darling John; if you love me, go.’

‘How can I go without settling anything?’ I asked very sensibly. ‘How shall I know of your danger now? Hit upon something; you are so quick. Anything you can think of; and then I will go, and not frighten you.’

‘I have been thinking long of something,’ Lorna answered rapidly, with that peculiar clearness of voice which made every syllable ring like music of a several note, ‘you see that tree with the seven rooks’ nests bright against the cliffs there? Can you count them, from above, do you think? From a place where you will be safe, dear’—

‘No doubt, I can; or if I cannot, it will not take me long to find a spot, whence I can do it.’

‘Gwenny can climb like any cat. She has been up there in the summer, watching the young birds, day by day, and daring the boys to touch them. There are neither birds, nor eggs there now, of course, and nothing doing. If you see but six rooks’ nests; I am in peril and want you. If you see but five, I am carried off by Carver.’

‘Good God!’ said I, at the mere idea; in a tone which frightened Lorna.

‘Fear not, John,’ she whispered sadly, and my blood grew cold at it: ‘I have means to stop him; or at least to save myself. If you can come within one day of that man’s getting hold of me, you will find me quite unharmed. After that you will find me dead, or alive, according to circumstances, but in no case such that you need blush to look at me.’

Her dear sweet face was full of pride, as even in the gloom I saw: and I would not trespass on her feelings by such a thing, at such a moment, as an attempt at any caress. I only said, ‘God bless you, darling!’ and she said the same to me, in a very low sad voice. And then I stole below Carver’s house, in the shadow from the eastern cliff; and knowing enough of the village now to satisfy all necessity, betook myself to my well-known track in returning from the valley; which was neither down the waterslide (a course I feared in the darkness) nor up the cliffs at Lorna’s bower; but a way of my own inventing, which there is no need to dwell upon.

A weight of care was off my mind; though much of trouble hung there still. One thing was quite certain—if Lorna could not have John Ridd, no one else should have her. And my mother, who sat up for me, and with me long time afterwards, agreed that this was comfort.