“It is something to thy mother, John, and something to thyself, I trow; and nothing worse could befall thee.”

I waited for her to speak again, because she had spoken so sadly that it took my breath away.

“John Ridd, if thou hast any value for thy body or thy soul, thy mother, or thy father’s name, have nought to do with any Doone.”

She gazed at me in earnest so, and raised her voice in saying it, until the whole valley, curving like a great bell echoed “Doone,” that it seemed to me my heart was gone for every one and everything.  If it were God’s will for me to have no more of Lorna, let a sign come out of the rocks, and I would try to believe it.  But no sign came, and I turned to the woman, and longed that she had been a man.

“You poor thing, with bones and blades, pails of water, and door-keys, what know you about the destiny of a maiden such as Lorna?  Chilblains you may treat, and bone-shave, ringworm, and the scaldings; even scabby sheep may limp the better for your strikings.  John the Baptist and his cousins, with the wool and hyssop, are for mares, and ailing dogs, and fowls that have the jaundice.  Look at me now, Mother Melldrum, am I like a fool?”

“That thou art, my son.  Alas that it were any other!  Now behold the end of that; John Ridd, mark the end of it.”

She pointed to the castle-rock, where upon a narrow shelf, betwixt us and the coming stars, a bitter fight was raging.  A fine fat sheep, with an honest face, had clomb up very carefully to browse on a bit of juicy grass, now the dew of the land was upon it.  To him, from an upper crag, a lean black goat came hurrying, with leaps, and skirmish of the horns, and an angry noise in his nostrils.  The goat had grazed the place before, to the utmost of his liking, cropping in and out with jerks, as their manner is of feeding.  Nevertheless he fell on the sheep with fury and great malice.

The simple wether was much inclined to retire from the contest, but looked around in vain for any way to peace and comfort.  His enemy stood between him and the last leap he had taken; there was nothing left him but to fight, or be hurled into the sea, five hundred feet below.

“Lie down, lie down!” I shouted to him, as if he were a dog, for I had seen a battle like this before, and knew that the sheep had no chance of life except from his greater weight, and the difficulty of moving him.

[Illustration:  150.jpg “Lie down!” I shouted]

“Lie down, lie down, John Ridd!” cried Mother Melldrum, mocking me, but without a sign of smiling.

The poor sheep turned, upon my voice, and looked at me so piteously that I could look no longer; but ran with all my speed to try and save him from the combat.  He saw that I could not be in time, for the goat was bucking to leap at him, and so the good wether stooped his forehead, with the harmless horns curling aside of it; and the goat flung his heels up, and rushed at him, with quick sharp jumps and tricks of movement, and the points of his long horns always foremost, and his little scut cocked like a gun-hammer.