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Lorna Doone, adapted version, exerpt #2 |
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"And do you also remember," John spoke up, "how kind you were to me and how you saved my life by your quickness when they came for you? You went away up the valley riding on a very big man's shoulder, as if you had never seen me. Yet you looked back and waved."
"Oh, yes, I remember everything," Lorna said, "because I never see anyone except-- well, I just happen to remember. But you, sir, seem not to remember how dangerous this place is."
She had kept her large dark eyes fixed upon him. They wre full of goodness and strength. John felt as if he must love them forever. And so he could not answer her but only stood blushing before her.
She had not the least idea of what he was thinking and feeling.
"I think, Master Ridd, you cannot know," she went on, "what the dangers of this place are. You cannot know the people."
"Yes, I know all that," said John, "and I am frightened near to death all the time when I do not look at you."
She was too young to find an answer for that daring speech, and she was trembling from real fear of danger to John.
"Mistress Lorna, I will go," he said. "If anyone shot me here, it would cause you sorrow, and it would be the death of my mother. I am her only son. Try to think of me now and then, and I will come again and bring you some new-laid eggs."
Fe_the_Dreamer · Sat Feb 12, 2005 @ 10:38pm · 0 Comments |
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