“Oh, the wickedness of the world!  Oh, the lies that are told of people—­or rather I mean the falsehoods—­because a man is better born, and has better manners!  Why, Lorna, how is it that you never speak about your charming uncle?  Did you notice, Lizzie, how his silver hair was waving upon his velvet collar, and how white his hands were, and every nail like an acorn; only pink like shell-fish, or at least like shells?  And the way he bowed, and dropped his eyes, from his pure respect for me!  And then, that he would not even speak, on account of his emotion; but pressed my hand in silence!  Oh, Lizzie, you have read me beautiful things about Sir Gallyhead, and the rest; but nothing to equal Sir Counsellor.”

“You had better marry him, madam,” said I, coming in very sternly; though I knew I ought not to say it:  “he can repay your adoration.  He has stolen a hundred thousand pounds.”

“John,” cried my mother, “you are mad!” And yet she turned as pale as death; for women are so quick at turning; and she inkled what it was.

“Of course I am, mother; mad about the marvels of Sir Galahad.  He has gone off with my Lorna’s necklace.  Fifty farms like ours can never make it good to Lorna.”

Hereupon ensued grim silence.  Mother looked at Lizzie’s face, for she could not look at me; and Lizzie looked at me, to know:  and as for me, I could have stamped almost on the heart of any one.  It was not the value of the necklace—­I am not so low a hound as that—­nor was it even the damned folly shown by every one of us—­it was the thought of Lorna’s sorrow for her ancient plaything; and even more, my fury at the breach of hospitality.

But Lorna came up to me softly, as a woman should always come; and she laid one hand upon my shoulder; and she only looked at me.  She even seemed to fear to look, and dropped her eyes, and sighed at me.  Without a word, I knew by that, how I must have looked like Satan; and the evil spirit left my heart; when she had made me think of it.

“Darling John, did you want me to think that you cared for my money, more than for me?”

I led her away from the rest of them, being desirous of explaining things, when I saw the depth of her nature opened, like an everlasting well, to me.  But she would not let me say a word, or do anything by ourselves, as it were:  she said, “Your duty is to your mother:  this blow is on her, and not on me.”

I saw that she was right; though how she knew it is beyond me; and I asked her just to go in front, and bring my mother round a little.  For I must let my passion pass:  it may drop its weapons quickly; but it cannot come and go, before a man has time to think.

Then Lorna went up to my mother, who was still in the chair of elegance; and she took her by both hands, and said,—­

“Dearest mother, I shall fret so, if I see you fretting.  And to fret will kill me, mother.  They have always told me so.”