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Updated: May 23, 2025
If son or grandson of old Doone, or one of the northern retainers, failed at the age of twenty, while standing on his naked feet to touch with his forehead the lintel of Sir Ensor's door, and to fill the door frame with his shoulders from sidepost even to sidepost, he was led away to the narrow pass which made their valley so desperate, and thrust from the crown with ignominy, to get his own living honestly.
But we all know old Sir Ensor's name, so that may be no obstacle. 'Sir Ensor Doone and his sons so be it. How many sons, Master Huckaback, and what is the name of each one? 'How can I tell you, my lord, even if I had known them all as well as my own shop-boys? Nevertheless there were seven of them, and that should be no obstacle.
As I passed Sir Ensor's house, my heart leaped up, for I spied a window, higher than the rest above the ground, and with a faint light moving. This could hardly fail to be the room wherein my darling lay; for here that impudent young fellow had gazed while he was whistling.
It is not too much to say that when the little maid opened Sir Ensor's door, my heart thumped, quite as much with terror as with hope of Lorna's presence. But in a moment the fear was gone, for Lorna was trembling in my arms, and my courage rose to comfort her.
It was freezing hard and sharp, with a piercing wind to back it; and I had observed that the holy water froze upon Sir Ensor's coffin. This movement of the birds went on, even for a week or more; every kind of thrushes passed us, every kind of wild fowl, even plovers went away, and crows, and snipes and wood-cocks.
Ensor's rocking-chairs, twelve of which, with a rickety table and a piano, four crimson tidies and six white ones, form the furniture of the Ensor drawing-room, you lean your head on your hand, close your eyes, and wish for a comfortable room, with a bed in it. A tolerable room you shall have; but for a bed, only a cot-bedstead with a sacking bottom, further, nothing.
The girl was a Miss Ensor. She lived by herself in a room in Lawrence Street. "I'm not good at getting on with people," she explained. Mary joined them, and went straight to Miss Ensor's bag and opened it. She shook her head at the contents, which consisted of a small, flabby- looking meat pie in a tin dish, and two pale, flat mince tarts. "It doesn't nourish you, dearie," complained Mary.
Not a word, nor sound between us; not even a kiss was interchanged; but man, or maid, who has ever loved hath learned our understanding. Therefore it came to pass, that we saw fit to enter Sir Ensor's room in the following manner. Lorna, with her right hand swallowed entirely by the palm of mine, and her waist retired from view by means of my left arm.
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