Oh, sweetest of all sweet melodies! That tune was Carver Doone's passport (as I heard long afterwards), which Charleworth Doone had imitated, for decoy of Lorna.

The sentinel took me for that vile Carver; who was like enough to be prowling there, for private talk with Lorna; but not very likely to shout forth his name, if it might be avoided.

The watchman, perceiving the danger perhaps of intruding on Carver's privacy, not only retired along the cliff, but withdrew himself to good distance.
Meanwhile he had done me the kindest service; for Lorna came to the window at once, to see what the cause of the shout was, and drew back the curtain timidly.

Then she opened the rough lattice; and then she watched the cliff and trees; and then she sighed very sadly.
'Oh, Lorna, don't you know me ?' I whispered from the side, being afraid of startling her by appearing over suddenly.
Quick though she always was of thought, she knew me not from my whisper, and was shutting the window hastily when I caught it back, and showed myself.
'John!' she cried, yet with sense enough not to speak aloud: 'oh, you must be mad, John.' 'As mad as a March hare,' said I, 'without any news of my darling.

You knew I would come: of course you did.' 'Well, I thought, perhaps--you know: now, John, you need not eat my hand.