ood manners to leave us two
together.

'Ah,' said the old man, and his voice seemed to come from a cavern of
skeletons; 'are you that great John Ridd?'

'John Ridd is my name, your honour,' was all that I could answer; 'and I
hope your worship is better.'

'Child, have you sense enough to know what you have been doing?'

'Yes, I knew right well,' I answered, 'that I have set mine eyes far
above my rank.'

'Are you ignorant that Lorna Doone is born of the oldest families
remaining in North Europe?'

'I was ignorant of that, your worship; yet I knew of her high descent
from the Doones of Bagworthy.'

The old man's eyes, like fire, probed me whether I was jesting; then
perceiving how grave I was, and thinking that I could not laugh (as many
people suppose of me), he took on himself to make good the deficiency
with a very bitter smile.

'And know you of your own low descent from the Ridds of Oare?'

'Sir,' I answered, being as yet unaccustomed to this style of speech,
'the Ridds, of Oare, have been honest men twice as long as the Doones
have been rogues.'

'I would not answer for that, John,' Sir Ensor replied, very quietly,
when I expected fury. 'If it be so, thy family is the very oldest in
Europe. Now hearken to me, boy, or clown, or honest fool, or whatever
thou art; hearken to an old man's words, who has not many hours to live.
There is nothing in this world to fear, nothing to revere or trust,
nothing even to hope for; least of all, is there aught to love.'

'I hope your worship is not quite right,' I answered, with great
misgivings; 'else it is a sad mistake for anybody to live, sir.'

'Therefore,' he continued, as if I had never spoken, 'though it may seem
hard for a week or two, like the loss of any other toy, I deprive you of
nothing, but add to your comfort, and (if there be such a thing) to your
happiness, when I forbid you ever to see that foolish child again. All
marriage is a wretched farce, even when man and wife belong to the same
rank of life, have temper well assorted, similar likes and dislikes, and
about the same pittance of mind. But when they are not so matched,
the farce would become a long, dull tragedy, if anything were worth
lamenting. There, I have reasoned enough with you; I am not in the habit
of reasoning. Though I have little confidence in man's honour, I have
some reliance in woman's pride. You will pledge your word in Lorna's
presence never to see or to seek her again; never