“Oh, how good of you, sir, how kind!  Well, I always did say, that the learnedest people were, almost always, the best and kindest, and the most simple-hearted.”

“Madam, that is a great sentiment.  What a goodly couple they will be! and if we can add him to our strength—­”

“Oh no, sir, oh no!” cried mother:  “you really must not think of it.  He has always been brought up so honest—­”

“Hem! that makes a difference.  A decided disqualification for domestic life among the Doones.  But, surely, he might get over those prejudices, madam?”

“Oh no, sir! he never can:  he never can indeed.  When he was only that high, sir, he could not steal even an apple, when some wicked boys tried to mislead him.”

“Ah,” replied the Counsellor, shaking his white head gravely; “then I greatly fear that his case is quite incurable.  I have known such cases; violent prejudice, bred entirely of education, and anti-economical to the last degree.  And when it is so, it is desperate:  no man, after imbibing ideas of that sort, can in any way be useful.”

“Oh yes, sir, John is very useful.  He can do as much work as three other men; and you should see him load a sledd, sir.”

“I was speaking, madam, of higher usefulness,—­power of the brain and heart.  The main thing for us upon earth is to take a large view of things.  But while we talk of the heart, what is my niece Lorna doing, that she does not come and thank me, for my perhaps too prompt concession to her youthful fancies?  Ah, if I had wanted thanks, I should have been more stubborn.”

Lorna, being challenged thus, came up and looked at her uncle, with her noble eyes fixed full upon his, which beneath his white eyebrows glistened, like dormer windows piled with snow.

“For what am I to thank you, uncle?”

“My dear niece, I have told you.  For removing the heaviest obstacle, which to a mind so well regulated could possibly have existed, between your dutiful self and the object of your affections.”

“Well, uncle, I should be very grateful, if I thought that you did so from love of me; or if I did not know that you have something yet concealed from me.”

“And my consent,” said the Counsellor, “is the more meritorious, the more liberal, frank, and candid, in the face of an existing fact, and a very clearly established one; which might have appeared to weaker minds in the light of an impediment; but to my loftier view of matrimony seems quite a recommendation.”

“What fact do you mean, sir?  Is it one that I ought to know?”

“In my opinion it is, good niece.  It forms, to my mind, so fine a basis for the invariable harmony of the matrimonial state.  To be brief—­as I always endeavour to be, without becoming obscure—­you two young people (ah, what a gift is youth! one can never be too thankful for it) you will have the rare advantage of commencing married life, with a subject of common interest to discuss, whenever you weary of—­well, say of one another; if you can now, by any means, conceive such a possibility.  And perfect justice meted out:  mutual goodwill resulting, from the sense of reciprocity.”