For it strikes me that of all human dealings, satire is the very lowest, and most mean and common.  It is the equivalent in words of what bullying is in deeds; and no more bespeaks a clever man, than the other does a brave one.  These two wretched tricks exalt a fool in his own low esteem, but never in his neighbour’s; for the deep common sense of our nature tells that no man of a genial heart, or of any spread of mind, can take pride in either.  And though a good man may commit the one fault or the other, now and then, by way of outlet, he is sure to have compunctions soon, and to scorn himself more than the sufferer.

Now when the young maidens were gone—­for we had quite a high dinner of fashion that day, with Betty Muxworthy waiting, and Gwenny Carfax at the gravy—­and only mother, and Tom, and I remained at the white deal table, with brandy, and schnapps, and hot water jugs; Squire Faggus said quite suddenly, and perhaps on purpose to take us aback, in case of our hiding anything,—­“What do you know of the history of that beautiful maiden, good mother?”

“Not half so much as my son does,” mother answered, with a soft smile at me; “and when John does not choose to tell a thing, wild horses will not pull it out of him.”

“That is not at all like me, mother,” I replied rather sadly; “you know almost every word about Lorna, quite as well as I do.”

“Almost every word, I believe, John; for you never tell a falsehood.  But the few unknown may be of all the most important to me.”

To this I made no answer, for fear of going beyond the truth, or else of making mischief.  Not that I had, or wished to have, any mystery with mother; neither was there in purest truth, any mystery in the matter; to the utmost of my knowledge.  And the only things that I had kept back, solely for mother’s comfort, were the death of poor Lord Alan Brandir (if indeed he were dead) and the connection of Marwood de Whichehalse with the dealings of the Doones, and the threats of Carver Doone against my own prosperity; and, may be, one or two little things harrowing more than edifying.

“Come, come,” said Master Faggus, smiling very pleasantly, “you two understand each other, if any two on earth do.  Ah, if I had only had a mother, how different I might have been!” And with that he sighed, in the tone which always overcame mother upon that subject, and had something to do with his getting Annie; and then he produced his pretty box, full of rolled tobacco, and offered me one, as I now had joined the goodly company of smokers.  So I took it, and watched what he did with his own, lest I might go wrong about mine.