Again, when I told her how my mother and Annie, as well as myself, longed to have her at Plover’s Barrows, and teach her all the quiet duties in which she was sure to take such delight, she only answered with a bright blush, that while her grandfather was living she would never leave him; and that even if she were free, certain ruin was all she should bring to any house that received her, at least within the utmost reach of her amiable family.  This was too plain to be denied, and seeing my dejection at it, she told me bravely that we must hope for better times, if possible, and asked how long I would wait for her.

“Not a day if I had my will,” I answered very warmly; at which she turned away confused, and would not look at me for awhile; “but all my life,” I went on to say, “if my fortune is so ill.  And how long would you wait for me, Lorna?”

“Till I could get you,” she answered slyly, with a smile which was brighter to me than the brightest wit could be.  “And now,” she continued, “you bound me, John, with a very beautiful ring to you, and when I dare not wear it, I carry it always on my heart.  But I will bind you to me, you dearest, with the very poorest and plainest thing that ever you set eyes on.  I could give you fifty fairer ones, but they would not be honest; and I love you for your honesty, and nothing else of course, John; so don’t you be conceited.  Look at it, what a queer old thing!  There are some ancient marks upon it, very grotesque and wonderful; it looks like a cat in a tree almost, but never mind what it looks like.  This old ring must have been a giant’s; therefore it will fit you perhaps, you enormous John.  It has been on the front of my old glass necklace (which my grandfather found them taking away, and very soon made them give back again) ever since I can remember; and long before that, as some woman told me.  Now you seem very greatly amazed; pray what thinks my lord of it?”

“That is worth fifty of the pearl thing which I gave you, you darling; and that I will not take it from you.”

“Then you will never take me, that is all.  I will have nothing to do with a gentleman”—­

“No gentleman, dear—­a yeoman.”

“Very well, a yeoman—­nothing to do with a yeoman who will not accept my love-gage.  So, if you please, give it back again, and take your lovely ring back.”

She looked at me in such a manner, half in earnest, half in jest, and three times three in love, that in spite of all good resolutions, and her own faint protest, I was forced to abandon all firm ideas, and kiss her till she was quite ashamed, and her head hung on my bosom, with the night of her hair shed over me.  Then I placed the pearl ring back on the soft elastic bend of the finger she held up to scold me; and on my own smallest finger drew the heavy hoop she had given me.  I considered this with satisfaction, until my darling recovered herself; and then I began very gravely about it, to keep her (if I could) from chiding me:—­