“I turned aside, and thought a little.  Although he seemed so light of mind, and gay in dress and manner, I could not doubt his honesty; and saw, beneath his jaunty air, true mettle and ripe bravery.  Scarce had I thought of his project twice, until he spoke of my aunt, his mother, but then the form of my dearest friend, my sweet Aunt Sabina, seemed to come and bid me listen, for this was what she prayed for.  Moreover I felt (though not as now) that Doone Glen was no place for me or any proud young maiden.  But while I thought, the yellow lightning spread behind a bulk of clouds, three times ere the flash was done, far off and void of thunder; and from the pile of cloud before it, cut as from black paper, and lit to depths of blackness by the blaze behind it, a form as of an aged man, sitting in a chair loose-mantled, seemed to lift a hand and warn.

“This minded me of my grandfather, and all the care I owed him.  Moreover, now the storm was rising and I began to grow afraid; for of all things awful to me thunder is the dreadfulest.  It doth so growl, like a lion coming, and then so roll, and roar, and rumble, out of a thickening darkness, then crack like the last trump overhead through cloven air and terror, that all my heart lies low and quivers, like a weed in water.  I listened now for the distant rolling of the great black storm, and heard it, and was hurried by it.  But the youth before me waved his rolled tobacco at it, and drawled in his daintiest tone and manner,—­

“’The sky is having a smoke, I see, and dropping sparks, and grumbling.  I should have thought these Exmoor hills too small to gather thunder.’

“‘I cannot go, I will not go with you, Lord Alan Brandir,’ I answered, being vexed a little by those words of his.  ’You are not grave enough for me, you are not old enough for me.  My Aunt Sabina would not have wished it; nor would I leave my grandfather, without his full permission.  I thank you much for coming, sir; but be gone at once by the way you came; and pray how did you come, sir?’

“’Fair cousin, you will grieve for this; you will mourn, when you cannot mend it.  I would my mother had been here, soon would she have persuaded you.  And yet,’ he added, with the smile of his accustomed gaiety, ’it would have been an unco thing, as we say in Scotland, for her ladyship to have waited upon you, as her graceless son has done, and hopes to do again ere long.  Down the cliffs I came, and up them I must make way back again.  Now adieu, fair Cousin Lorna, I see you are in haste tonight; but I am right proud of my guardianship.  Give me just one flower for token’—­here he kissed his hand to me, and I threw him a truss of woodbine—­’adieu, fair cousin, trust me well, I will soon be here again.’