'“Now, Cousin Lorna, my good cousin,” he said, with ease and calmness; “your voice is very sweet, no doubt, from all that I can see of you. But I pray you keep it still, unless you would give to dusty death your very best cousin and trusty guardian, Alan Brandir of Loch Awe.”
'“You my guardian!” I said, for the idea was too ludicrous; and ludicrous things always strike me first, through some fault of nature.
'“I have in truth that honour, madam,” he answered, with a sweeping bow; “unless I err in taking you for Mistress Lorna Doone.”
'“You have not mistaken me. My name is Lorna Doone.”
'He looked at me, with gravity, and was inclined to make some claim to closer consideration upon the score of kinship; but I shrunk back, and only said, “Yes, my name is Lorna Doone.”
'“Then I am your faithful guardian, Alan Brandir of Loch Awe; called Lord Alan Brandir, son of a worthy peer of Scotland. Now will you confide in me?”
'“I confide in you!” I cried, looking at him with amazement; “why, you are not older than I am!”
'“Yes I am, three years at least. You, my ward, are not sixteen. I, your worshipful guardian, am almost nineteen years of age.”
'Upon hearing this I looked at him, for that seemed then a venerable age; but the more I looked the more I doubted, although he was dressed quite like a man. He led me in a courtly manner, stepping at his tallest to an open place beside the water; where the light came as in channel, and was made the most of by glancing waves and fair white stones.
'“Now am I to your liking, cousin?” he asked, when I had gazed at him, until I was almost ashamed, except at such a stripling. “Does my Cousin Lorna judge kindly of her guardian, and her nearest kinsman? In a word, is our admiration mutual?”