'Oh, I don't think much of that,' I replied; 'I shall put some
goose-grease to them. But how you are looking at me! I never saw any one
like you before. My name is John Ridd. What is your name?'

'Lorna Doone,' she answered, in a low voice, as if afraid of it, and
hanging her head so that I could see only her forehead and eyelashes;
'if you please, my name is Lorna Doone; and I thought you must have
known it.'

Then I stood up and touched her hand, and tried to make her look at me;
but she only turned away the more. Young and harmless as she was, her
name alone made guilt of her. Nevertheless I could not help looking at
her tenderly, and the more when her blushes turned into tears, and her
tears to long, low sobs.

'Don't cry,' I said, 'whatever you do. I am sure you have never done any
harm. I will give you all my fish Lorna, and catch some more for mother;
only don't be angry with me.'

She flung her little soft arms up in the passion of her tears, and
looked at me so piteously, that what did I do but kiss her. It seemed to
be a very odd thing, when I came to think of it, because I hated kissing
so, as all honest boys must do. But she touched my heart with a sudden
delight, like a cowslip-blossom (although there were none to be seen
yet), and the sweetest flowers of spring.

She gave me no encouragement, as my mother in her place would have done;
nay, she even wiped her lips (which methought was rather rude of her),
and drew away, and smoothed her dress, as if I had used a freedom. Then