It may be supposed by all who know me, that I was taken hereupon with such a giddiness in my head and noisiness in my ears, that I was forced to hold by the crook driven in below the thatch for holding of the hay-rakes.  There was scarcely any sense left in me, only that the thing was come by power of Mother Melldrum, because I despised her warning, and had again sought Lorna.  But the officer was grieved for me, and the danger to his supper.

“My son, be not afraid,” he said; “we are not going to skin thee.  Only thou tell all the truth, and it shall be—­but never mind, I will tell thee all about it, and how to come out harmless, if I find thy victuals good, and no delay in serving them.”

“We do our best, sir, without bargain,” said I, “to please our visitors.”

But when my mother saw that parchment (for we could not keep it from her) she fell away into her favourite bed of stock gilly-flowers, which she had been tending; and when we brought her round again, did nothing but exclaim against the wickedness of the age and people.  “It was useless to tell her; she knew what it was, and so should all the parish know.  The King had heard what her son was, how sober, and quiet, and diligent, and the strongest young man in England; and being himself such a reprobate—­God forgive her for saying so—­he could never rest till he got poor Johnny, and made him as dissolute as himself.  And if he did that”—­here mother went off into a fit of crying; and Annie minded her face, while Lizzie saw that her gown was in comely order.

But the character of the King improved, when Master Jeremy Stickles (being really moved by the look of it, and no bad man after all) laid it clearly before my mother that the King on his throne was unhappy, until he had seen John Ridd.  That the fame of John had gone so far, and his size, and all his virtues—­that verily by the God who made him, the King was overcome with it.

Then mother lay back in her garden chair, and smiled upon the whole of us, and most of all on Jeremy; looking only shyly on me, and speaking through some break of tears.  “His Majesty shall have my John; His Majesty is very good:  but only for a fortnight.  I want no titles for him.  Johnny is enough for me; and Master John for the working men.”

Now though my mother was so willing that I should go to London, expecting great promotion and high glory for me, I myself was deeply gone into the pit of sorrow.  For what would Lorna think of me?  Here was the long month just expired, after worlds of waiting; there would be her lovely self, peeping softly down the glen, and fearing to encourage me; yet there would be nobody else, and what an insult to her!  Dwelling upon this, and seeing no chance of escape from it, I could not find one wink of sleep; though Jeremy Stickles (who slept close by) snored loud enough to spare me some.  For I felt myself to be, as it were, in a place of some importance; in a situation of trust, I may say; and bound not to depart from it.  For who could tell what the King might have to say to me about the Doones—­and I felt that they were at the bottom of this strange appearance—­or what His Majesty might think, if after receiving a message from him (trusty under so many seals) I were to violate his faith in me as a churchwarden’s son, and falsely spread his words abroad?