John was moved to pity for her. He stood and touched her hand gently, but she only turned away the more. Young as she was, her name alone brought shame upon her. John hated the very name of Doone. Yet her looked at her tenderly. She began to cry in long, low sobs.
"Don't cry," John said. "Don't cry. Whatever you do, don't cry. I am sure you have never done any harm. I will give you all of my fish, Lorna. I can catch some more for my mother. Only don't be angry with me."
The poor, lonely child flung up her arms toward John. He stooped and kissed her gently. It was an odd thing for him to do, for he hated kissing so-- as most young boys do. But Lorna Doone was only an unhappy little girl. She drew away from him. Then John remembered that she was far above him by birth, for he was only a farmer's son, and she was the grandchild of Sir Ensor Doone. He picked up his bag of fish and started away.
 Fe_the_Dreamer · Mon Jan 24, 2005 @ 02:59am · 0 Comments |
