“Come now, mother,” I said; “if
you only saw Lorna, you would look upon me as the
lowest dirt”—
“No doubt I should,” my mother answered;
“and the king and queen, and all the royal family.
Well, this poor angel, having made up her mind to
take compassion upon my son, when he had saved her
life so many times, persuades him to marry her out
of pure pity, and throw his poor mother overboard.
And the saddest part of it all is this—”
“That my mother will never, never, never understand
the truth,” said I.
“That is all I wish,” she answered; “just
to get at the simple truth from my own perception
of it. John, you are very wise in kissing me;
but perhaps you would not be so wise in bringing Lorna
for an afternoon, just to see what she thinks of me.
There is a good saddle of mutton now; and there are
some very good sausages left, on the blue dish with
the anchor, Annie, from the last little sow we killed.”
“As if Lorna would eat sausages!” said
I, with appearance of high contempt, though rejoicing
all the while that mother seemed to have her name
so pat; and she pronounced it in a manner which made
my heart leap to my ears: “Lorna to eat
sausages!”
“I don’t see why she shouldn’t,”
my mother answered smiling, “if she means to
be a farmer’s wife, she must take to farmer’s
ways, I think. What do you say, Annie?”
“She will eat whatever John desires, I should
hope,” said Annie gravely; “particularly
as I made them.”
“Oh that I could only get the chance of trying
her!” I answered, “if you could once behold
her, mother, you would never let her go again.
And she would love you with all her heart, she is
so good and gentle.”
“That is a lucky thing for me”; saying
this my mother wept, as she had been doing off and
on, when no one seemed to look at her; “otherwise
I suppose, John, she would very soon turn me out of
the farm, having you so completely under her thumb,
as she seems to have. I see now that my time
is over. Lizzie and I will seek our fortunes.
It is wiser so.”
“Now, mother,” I cried; “will you
have the kindness not to talk any nonsense? Everything
belongs to you; and so, I hope, your children do.
And you, in turn, belong to us; as you have proved
ever since—oh, ever since we can remember.
Why do you make Annie cry so? You ought to know
better than that.”
Mother upon this went over all the things she had
done before; how many times I know not; neither does
it matter. Only she seemed to enjoy it more,
every time of doing it. And then she said she
was an old fool; and Annie (like a thorough girl)
pulled her one grey hair out.
RUTH IS NOT LIKE LORNA
[Illustration: 292.jpg Carver Doone]
