R. D. Blackmore

“ A life without Lorna; a tadpole life. All stupid head; and no body.
Many men may like such life; anchorites, fakirs, high-priests, and so on; but to my mind, it is not the native thing God meant for us. My dearest mother was a show, with crying and with fretting. The Doones, as she thought, were born to destroy us. Scarce had she come to some liveliness (though sprinkled with tears, every now and then) after her great bereavement, and ten years' time to dwell on it—when lo, here was her husband's son, the pet child of her own good John, murdered like his father! ”

“ And this she always looks upon as a wondrous gift from me; and kisses me much when she puts it on, and walks like the noble woman she is. And yet I may never behold it again; for she gets back to her simple clothes, and I love her the better in them. I believe that she gives half the grandeur away, and keeps the other half for the children.
As for poor Tom Faggus, every one knows his bitter adventures, when his pardon was recalled, because of his journey to Sedgemoor. Not a child in the country, I doubt, but knows far more than I do of Tom's most desperate doings. ”

“ Ruth Huckaback is not married yet; although upon Uncle Reuben's death she came into all his property; except, indeed, 2000£, which Uncle Ben, in his driest manner, bequeathed 'to Sir John Ridd, the worshipful knight, for greasing of the testator's boots.' And he left almost a mint of money, not from the mine, but from the shop, and the good use of usury. For the mine had brought in just what it cost, when the vein of gold ended suddenly; leaving all concerned much older, and some, I fear, much poorer; but no one utterly ruined, as is the case with most of them. ”

“ And now I will save yours; which is a far, far easier business.'
'You have saved my Lorna's life! What do you mean by talking so?'
'Only what I say, Cousin John. Though perhaps I overprize my work. But at any rate she says so.'
'I do not understand,' I said, falling back with bewilderment; 'all women are such liars.'
'Have you ever known me tell a lie?' Ruth in great indignation—more feigned, I doubt, than real—'your mother may tell a story, now and then when she feels it right; and so may both your sisters. But so you cannot do, John Ridd ”

“ I called him Ensie Jones; and we got him a commission, and after many scrapes of spirit, he did great things in the Low Countries. He looks upon me as his father; and without my leave will not lay claim to the heritage and title of the Doones, which clearly belong to him. ”