ame up to me, working sideways, in the manner
of a female crab.

"This is not to my liking," I said: "if aught thou hast, speak plainly;
while they make that horrible noise inside."

Nothing had this man to say; but with many sighs, because I was not of
the proper faith, he took my reprobate hand to save me: and with several
religious tears, looked up at me, and winked with one eye. Although the
skin of my palms was thick, I felt a little suggestion there, as of a
gentle leaf in spring, fearing to seem too forward. I paid the man, and
he went happy; for the standard of heretical silver is purer than that
of the Catholics.

Then I lifted up my little billet; and in that dark corner read it, with
a strong rainbow of colours coming from the angled light. And in mine
eyes there was enough to make rainbow of strongest sun, as my anger
clouded off.

Not that it began so well; but that in my heart I knew (ere three lines
were through me) that I was with all heart loved--and beyond that, who
may need? The darling of my life went on, as if I were of her own rank,
or even better than she was; and she dotted her "i"s, and crossed
her "t"s, as if I were at least a schoolmaster. All of it was done in
pencil; but as plain as plain could be. In my coffin it shall lie, with
my ring and something else. Therefore will I not expose it to every man
who buys this book, and haply thinks that he has bought me to the bottom
of my heart. Enough for men of gentle birth (who never are inquisitive)
that my love told me, in her letter, just to come and see her.

I ran away, and could not stop. To behold even her, at the moment, would
have dashed my fancy's joy. Yet my brain was so amiss, that I must do
something. Therefore to the river Thames, with all speed, I hurried;
and keeping all my best clothes on (indeed for sake of Lorna), into the
quiet stream I leaped, and swam as far as London Bridge, and ate nobler
dinner afterwards.

CHAPTER LXVII

LORNA STILL IS LORNA

[Illustration: 623.jpg Illustrated Capital]

Although a man may be as simple as the flowers of the field; knowing
when, but scarcely why, he closes to the bitter wind; and feeling why,
but scarcely when, he opens to the genial sun; yet without his questing
much into the capsule of himself--to do which is a misery--he may have a
general notion how he happens to be getting on.

I felt myself to be getting on better than at any time since the last
wheat-harvest, as I to