Lorna Doone by R. D. Blackmore Deluxe Edition

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Lorna Doone by R. D. Blackmore Deluxe Edition Chapter 60


ANNIE LUCKIER THAN JOHN


Some people may look down upon us for our slavish ways (as they may
choose to call them), but in our part of the country, we do love to
mention title, and to roll it on our tongues, with a conscience and a
comfort. Even if a man knows not, through fault of education, who the
Duke of this is, or the Earl of that, it will never do for him to say
so, lest the room look down on him. Therefore he must nod his head,
and say, 'Ah, to be sure! I know him as well as ever I know my own
good woman's brother. He married Lord Flipflap's second daughter, and a
precious life she led him.' Whereupon the room looks up at him. But
I, being quite unable to carry all this in my head, as I ought, was
speedily put down by people of a noble tendency, apt at Lords, and pat
with Dukes, and knowing more about the King than His Majesty would have
requested. Therefore, I fell back in thought, not daring in words to do
so, upon the titles of our horses. And all these horses deserved their
names, not having merely inherited, but by their own doing earned them.
Smiler, for instance, had been so called, not so much from a habit of
smiling, as from his general geniality, white nose, and white ankle.
This worthy horse was now in years, but hale and gay as ever; and when
you let him out of the stable, he could neigh and whinny, and make men
and horses know it. On the other hand, Kickums was a horse of morose
and surly order; harbouring up revenge, and leading a rider to false
confidence. Very smoothly he would go, and as gentle as a turtle_dove;
until his rider fully believed that a pack_thread was enough for him,
and a pat of approval upon his neck the aim and crown of his worthy
life. Then suddenly up went his hind feet to heaven, and the rider for
the most part flew over his nose; whereupon good Kickums would take
advantage of his favourable position to come and bite a piece out of
his back. Now in my present state of mind, being understood of nobody,
having none to bear me company, neither wishing to have any, an
indefinite kind of attraction drew me into Kickum's society. A bond of
mutual sympathy was soon established between us; I would ride no other
horse, neither Kickums be ridden by any other man. And this good horse
became as jealous about me as a dog might be; and would lash out, or run
teeth foremost, at any one who came near him when I was on his back.


This season, the reaping of the corn, which had been but a year ago so
pleasant and so lightsome, was become a heavy labour, and a thing for
grumbling rather than for gladness. However, for the sake of all, it
must be attended to, and with as fair a show of spirit and alacrity as
might be. For otherwise the rest would drag, and drop their hands and
idle, being quicker to take infection of dullness than of diligence. And
the harvest was a heavy one, even heavier than the year before, although
of poorer quality. Therefore was I forced to work as hard as any horse
could during all the daylight hours, and defer till night the brooding
upon my misfortune. But the darkness always found me stiff with work,
and weary, and less able to think than to dream, may be, of Lorna. And
now the house was so dull and lonesome, wanting Annie's pretty presence,
and the light of Lorna's eyes, that a man had no temptation after
supper_time even to sit and smoke a pipe.


For Lizzie, though so learned, and pleasant when it suited her, never
had taken very kindly to my love for Lorna, and being of a proud and
slightly upstart nature, could not bear to be eclipsed in bearing,
looks, and breeding, and even in clothes, by the stranger. For one thing
I will say of the Doones, that whether by purchase or plunder, they had
always dressed my darling well, with her own sweet taste to help them.
And though Lizzie's natural hate of the maid (as a Doone and burdened
with father's death) should have been changed to remorse when she
learned of Lorna's real parentage, it was only altered to sullenness,
and discontent with herself, for frequent rudeness to an innocent
person, and one of such high descent. Moreover, the child had imbibed
strange ideas as to our aristocracy, partly perhaps from her own way of
thinking, and partly from reading of history. For while, from one point
of view she looked up at them very demurely, as commissioned by God for
the country's good; from another sight she disliked them, as ready to
sacrifice their best and follow their worst members.


Yet why should this wench dare to judge upon a matter so far beyond her,
and form opinions which she knew better than declare before mother? But
with me she had no such scruple, for I had no authority over her; and my
intellect she looked down upon, because I praised her own so. Thus
she made herself very unpleasant to me; by little jags and jerks of
sneering, sped as though unwittingly; which I (who now considered myself
allied to the aristocracy, and perhaps took airs on that account) had
not wit enough to parry, yet had wound enough to feel.


Now any one who does not know exactly how mothers feel and think, would
have expected my mother (than whom could be no better one) to pet me,
and make much of me, under my sad trouble; to hang with anxiety on my
looks, and shed her tears with mine (if any), and season every dish of
meat put by for her John's return. And if the whole truth must be told,
I did expect that sort of thing, and thought what a plague it would
be to me; yet not getting it, was vexed, as if by some new injury.
For mother was a special creature (as I suppose we all are), being the
warmest of the warm, when fired at the proper corner; and yet, if taken
at the wrong point, you would say she was incombustible.


Hence it came to pass that I had no one even to speak to, about Lorna
and my grievances; for Captain Stickles was now gone southward; and John
Fry. of course, was too low for it, although a married man, and well
under his wife's management. But finding myself unable at last to bear
this any longer, upon the first day when all the wheat was cut, and the
stooks set up in every field, yet none quite fit for carrying, I saddled
good Kickums at five in the morning, and without a word to mother (for a
little anxiety might do her good) off I set for Molland parish, to have
the counsel and the comfort of my darling Annie.


The horse took me over the ground so fast (there being few better to go
when he liked), that by nine o'clock Annie was in my arms, and blushing
to the colour of Winnie's cheeks, with sudden delight and young
happiness.


'You precious little soul!' I cried: 'how does Tom behave to you?'


'Hush!' said Annie: 'how dare you ask? He is the kindest, and the best,
and the noblest of all men, John; not even setting yourself aside. Now
look not jealous, John: so it is. We all have special gifts, you know.
You are as good as you can be, John; but my husband's special gift is
nobility of character.' Here she looked at me, as one who has discovered
something quite unknown.


'I am devilish glad to hear it,' said I, being touched at going down so:
'keep him to that mark, my dear; and cork the whisky bottle.'


'Yes, darling John,' she answered quickly, not desiring to open that
subject, and being too sweet to resent it: 'and how is lovely Lorna?
What an age it is since I have seen you! I suppose we must thank her for
that.'


'You may thank her for seeing me now,' said I; 'or rather,'__seeing how
hurt she looked,__'you may thank my knowledge of your kindness, and my
desire to speak of her to a soft_hearted dear little soul like you. I
think all the women are gone mad. Even mother treats me shamefully. And
as for Lizzie__' Here I stopped, knowing no words strong enough, without
shocking Annie.


'Do you mean to say that Lorna is gone?' asked Annie, in great
amazement; yet leaping at the truth, as women do, with nothing at all to
leap from.


'Gone. And I never shall see her again. It serves me right for aspiring
so.'


Being grieved at my manner, she led me in where none could interrupt
us; and in spite of all my dejection, I could not help noticing how very
pretty and even elegant all things were around. For we upon Exmoor have
little taste; all we care for is warm comfort, and plenty to eat and to
give away, and a hearty smack in everything. But Squire Faggus had seen
the world, and kept company with great people; and the taste he had
first displayed in the shoeing of farmers' horses (which led almost to
his ruin, by bringing him into jealousy, and flattery, and dashing ways)
had now been cultivated in London, and by moonlight, so that none could
help admiring it.


'Well!' I cried, for the moment dropping care and woe in astonishment:
'we have nothing like this at Plover's Barrows; nor even Uncle Reuben. I
do hope it is honest, Annie?'


'Would I sit in a chair that was not my own?' asked Annie, turning
crimson, and dropping defiantly, and with a whisk of her dress which
I never had seen before, into the very grandest one: 'would I lie on a
couch, brother John, do you think, unless good money was paid for it?
Because other people are clever, John, you need not grudge them their
earnings.'


'A couch!' I replied: 'why what can you want with a couch in the
day_time, Annie? A couch is a small bed, set up in a room without space
for a good four_poster. What can you want with a couch downstairs? I
never heard of such nonsense. And you ought to be in the dairy.'


'I won't cry, brother John, I won't; because you want to make me
cry'__and all the time she was crying__'you always were so nasty, John,
sometimes. Ah, you have no nobility of character, like my husband. And I
have not seen you for two months, John; and now you come to scold me!'


'You little darling,' I said, for Annie's tears always conquered me;
'if all the rest ill_use me, I will not quarrel with you, dear. You have
always been true to me; and I can forgive your vanity. Your things
are very pretty, dear; and you may couch ten times a day, without my
interference. No doubt your husband has paid for all this, with the
ponies he stole from Exmoor. Nobility of character is a thing beyond
my understanding; but when my sister loves a man, and he does well and
flourishes, who am I to find fault with him? Mother ought to see these
things: they would turn her head almost: look at the pimples on the
chairs!'


'They are nothing,' Annie answered, after kissing me for my kindness:
'they are only put in for the time indeed; and we are to have much
better, with gold all round the bindings, and double plush at the
corners; so soon as ever the King repays the debt he owes to my poor
Tom.'


I thought to myself that our present King had been most unlucky in one
thing__debts all over the kingdom. Not a man who had struck a blow for
the King, or for his poor father, or even said a good word for him,
in the time of his adversity, but expected at least a baronetcy, and
a grant of estates to support it. Many have called King Charles
ungrateful: and he may have been so. But some indulgence is due to
a man, with entries few on the credit side, and a terrible column of
debits.


'Have no fear for the chair,' I said, for it creaked under me very
fearfully, having legs not so large as my finger; 'if the chair breaks,
Annie, your fear should be, lest the tortoise_shell run into me. Why, it
is striped like a viper's loins! I saw some hundreds in London; and very
cheap they are. They are made to be sold to the country people, such as
you and me, dear; and carefully kept they will last for almost half
a year. Now will you come back from your furniture, and listen to my
story?'


Annie was a hearty dear, and she knew that half my talk was joke, to
make light of my worrying. Therefore she took it in good part, as I well
knew that she would do; and she led me to a good honest chair; and she
sat in my lap and kissed me.


'All this is not like you, John. All this is not one bit like you:
and your cheeks are not as they ought to be. I shall have to come home
again, if the women worry my brother so. We always held together, John;
and we always will, you know.'


'You dear,' I cried, 'there is nobody who understands me as you do.
Lorna makes too much of me, and the rest they make too little.'


'Not mother; oh, not mother, John!'


'No, mother makes too much, no doubt; but wants it all for herself
alone; and reckons it as a part of her. She makes me more wroth than any
one: as if not only my life, but all my head and heart must seek from
hers, and have no other thought or care.'


Being sped of my grumbling thus, and eased into better temper, I told
Annie all the strange history about Lorna and her departure, and the
small chance that now remained to me of ever seeing my love again. To
this Annie would not hearken twice, but judging women by her faithful
self, was quite vexed with me for speaking so. And then, to my surprise
and sorrow, she would deliver no opinion as to what I ought to do until
she had consulted darling Tom.


Dear Tom knew much of the world, no doubt, especially the dark side of
it. But to me it scarcely seemed becoming that my course of action with
regard to the Lady Lorna Dugal should be referred to Tom Faggus, and
depend upon his decision. However, I would not grieve Annie again by
making light of her husband; and so when he came in to dinner, the
matter was laid before him.


Now this man never confessed himself surprised, under any circumstances;
his knowledge of life being so profound, and his charity universal. And
in the present case he vowed that he had suspected it all along, and
could have thrown light upon Lorna's history, if we had seen fit to
apply to him. Upon further inquiry I found that this light was a very
dim one, flowing only from the fact that he had stopped her mother's
coach, at the village of Bolham, on the Bampton Road, the day before I
saw them. Finding only women therein, and these in a sad condition, Tom
with his usual chivalry (as he had no scent of the necklace) allowed
them to pass; with nothing more than a pleasant exchange of courtesies,
and a testimonial forced upon him, in the shape of a bottle of Burgundy
wine. This the poor countess handed him; and he twisted the cork out
with his teeth, and drank her health with his hat off.


'A lady she was, and a true one; and I am a pretty good judge,' said
Tom: 'ah, I do like a high lady!'


Our Annie looked rather queer at this, having no pretensions to be one:
but she conquered herself, and said, 'Yes, Tom; and many of them liked
you.'


With this, Tom went on the brag at once, being but a shallow fellow, and
not of settled principles, though steadier than he used to be; until I
felt myself almost bound to fetch him back a little; for of all things
I do hate brag the most, as any reader of this tale must by this time
know. Therefore I said to Squire Faggus, 'Come back from your highway
days. You have married the daughter of an honest man; and such talk
is not fit for her. If you were right in robbing people, I am right
in robbing you. I could bind you to your own mantelpiece, as you know
thoroughly well, Tom; and drive away with your own horses, and all your
goods behind them, but for the sense of honesty. And should I not do as
fine a thing as any you did on the highway? If everything is of public
right, how does this chair belong to you? Clever as you are, Tom Faggus,
you are nothing but a fool to mix your felony with your farmership. Drop
the one, or drop the other; you cannot maintain them both.'


As I finished very sternly a speech which had exhausted me more than ten
rounds of wrestling__but I was carried away by the truth, as sometimes
happens to all of us__Tom had not a word to say; albeit his mind was
so much more nimble and rapid than ever mine was. He leaned against the
mantelpiece (a newly_invented affair in his house) as if I had corded
him to it, even as I spoke of doing. And he laid one hand on his breast
in a way which made Annie creep softly to him, and look at me not like a
sister.


'You have done me good, John,' he said at last, and the hand he gave me
was trembling: 'there is no other man on God's earth would have dared
to speak to me as you have done. From no other would I have taken it.
Nevertheless every word is true; and I shall dwell on it when you are
gone. If you never did good in your life before, John, my brother, you
have done it now.'


He turned away, in bitter pain, that none might see his trouble; and
Annie, going along with him, looked as if I had killed our mother. For
my part, I was so upset, for fear of having gone too far, that without
a word to either of them, but a message on the title_page of King
James his Prayer_book, I saddled Kickums, and was off, and glad of the
moorland air again.






Lorna Doone by R. D. Blackmore Deluxe Edition Chapter 61


THEREFORE HE SEEKS COMFORT


It was for poor Annie's sake that I had spoken my mind to her husband so
freely, and even harshly. For we all knew she would break her heart, if
Tom took to evil ways again. And the right mode of preventing this
was, not to coax, and flatter, and make a hero of him (which he did for
himself, quite sufficiently), but to set before him the folly of the
thing, and the ruin to his own interests. They would both be vexed with
me, of course, for having left them so hastily, and especially just
before dinner_time; but that would soon wear off; and most likely they
would come to see mother, and tell her that I was hard to manage, and
they could feel for her about it.


Now with a certain yearning, I know not what, for softness, and for one
who could understand me__for simple as a child though being, I found
few to do that last, at any rate in my love_time__I relied upon Kickum's
strength to take me round by Dulverton. It would make the journey some
eight miles longer, but what was that to a brisk young horse, even with
my weight upon him?


And having left Squire Faggus and Annie much sooner than had been
intended, I had plenty of time before me, and too much, ere a prospect
of dinner. Therefore I struck to the right, across the hills, for
Dulverton.


Pretty Ruth was in the main street of the town, with a basket in her
hand, going home from the market.


'Why, Cousin Ruth, you are grown, I exclaimed; 'I do believe you are,
Ruth. And you were almost too tall, already.'


At this the little thing was so pleased, that she smiled through her
blushes beautifully, and must needs come to shake hands with me; though
I signed to her not to do it, because of my horse's temper. But scarcely
was her hand in mine, when Kickums turned like an eel upon her, and
caught her by the left arm with his teeth, so that she screamed with
agony. I saw the white of his vicious eye, and struck him there with all
my force, with my left hand over her right arm, and he never used that
eye again; none the less he kept his hold on her. Then I smote him again
on the jaw, and caught the little maid up by her right hand, and laid
her on the saddle in front of me; while the horse being giddy and
staggered with blows, and foiled of his spite, ran backward. Ruth's wits
were gone; and she lay before me, in such a helpless and senseless way
that I could have killed vile Kickums. I struck the spurs into him past
the rowels, and away he went at full gallop; while I had enough to do to
hold on, with the little girl lying in front of me. But I called to the
men who were flocking around, to send up a surgeon, as quick as could
be, to Master Reuben Huckaback's.


The moment I brought my right arm to bear, the vicious horse had no
chance with me; and if ever a horse was well paid for spite, Kickums
had his change that day. The bridle would almost have held a whale and
I drew on it so that his lower jaw was well_nigh broken from him; while
with both spurs I tore his flanks, and he learned a little lesson.
There are times when a man is more vicious than any horse may vie with.
Therefore by the time we had reached Uncle Reuben's house at the top of
the hill, the bad horse was only too happy to stop; every string of his
body was trembling, and his head hanging down with impotence. I leaped
from his back at once, and carried the maiden into her own sweet room.


Now Cousin Ruth was recovering softly from her fright and faintness; and
the volley of the wind from galloping so had made her little ears quite
pink, and shaken her locks all round her. But any one who might wish
to see a comely sight and a moving one, need only have looked at Ruth
Huckaback, when she learned (and imagined yet more than it was) the
manner of her little ride with me. Her hair was of a hazel_brown, and
full of waving readiness; and with no concealment of the trick, she
spread it over her eyes and face. Being so delighted with her, and so
glad to see her safe, I kissed her through the thick of it, as a cousin
has a right to do; yea, and ought to do, with gravity.


'Darling,' I said; 'he has bitten you dreadfully: show me your poor arm,
dear.'


She pulled up her sleeve in the simplest manner, rather to look at it
herself, than to show me where the wound was. Her sleeve was of dark
blue Taunton staple; and her white arm shone, coming out of it, as round
and plump and velvety, as a stalk of asparagus, newly fetched out of the
ground. But above the curved soft elbow, where no room was for one cross
word (according to our proverb),* three sad gashes, edged with crimson,
spoiled the flow of the pearly flesh. My presence of mind was lost
altogether; and I raised the poor sore arm to my lips, both to stop the
bleeding and to take the venom out, having heard how wise it was, and
thinking of my mother. But Ruth, to my great amazement, drew away from
me in bitter haste, as if I had been inserting instead of extracting
poison. For the bite of a horse is most venomous; especially when he
sheds his teeth; and far more to be feared than the bite of a dog, or
even of a cat. And in my haste I had forgotten that Ruth might not know
a word about this, and might doubt about my meaning, and the warmth
of my osculation. But knowing her danger, I durst not heed her
childishness, or her feelings.


     *  A maid with an elbow sharp, or knee,
     Hath cross words two, out of every three.


'Don't be a fool, Cousin Ruth,' I said, catching her so that she could
not move; 'the poison is soaking into you. Do you think that I do it for
pleasure?'


The spread of shame on her face was such, when she saw her own
misunderstanding, that I was ashamed to look at her; and occupied myself
with drawing all the risk of glanders forth from the white limb, hanging
helpless now, and left entirely to my will. Before I was quite sure of
having wholly exhausted suction, and when I had made the holes in her
arm look like the gills of a lamprey, in came the doctor, partly drunk,
and in haste to get through his business.


'Ha, ha! I see,' he cried; 'bite of a horse, they tell me. Very
poisonous; must be burned away. Sally, the iron in the fire. If you have
a fire, this weather.'


'Crave your pardon, good sir,' I said; for poor little Ruth was fainting
again at his savage orders: 'but my cousin's arm shall not be burned; it
is a great deal too pretty, and I have sucked all the poison out. Look,
sir, how clean and fresh it is.'


'Bless my heart! And so it is! No need at all for cauterising. The
epidermis will close over, and the cutis and the pellis. John Ridd, you
ought to have studied medicine, with your healing powers. Half my virtue
lies in touch. A clean and wholesome body, sir; I have taught you the
Latin grammar. I leave you in excellent hands, my dear, and they wait
for me at shovel_board. Bread and water poultice cold, to be renewed,
tribus horis. John Ridd, I was at school with you, and you beat me very
lamentably, when I tried to fight with you. You remember me not? It is
likely enough: I am forced to take strong waters, John, from infirmity
of the liver. Attend to my directions; and I will call again in the
morning.'


And in that melancholy plight, caring nothing for business, went one
of the cleverest fellows ever known at Tiverton. He could write Latin
verses a great deal faster than I could ever write English prose, and
nothing seemed too great for him. We thought that he would go to Oxford
and astonish every one, and write in the style of Buchanan; but he fell
all abroad very lamentably; and now, when I met him again, was come down
to push_pin and shovel_board, with a wager of spirits pending.


When Master Huckaback came home, he looked at me very sulkily; not only
because of my refusal to become a slave to the gold_digging, but also
because he regarded me as the cause of a savage broil between Simon
Carfax and the men who had cheated him as to his Gwenny. However, when
Uncle Ben saw Ruth, and knew what had befallen her, and she with tears
in her eyes declared that she owed her life to Cousin Ridd, the old man
became very gracious to me; for if he loved any one on earth, it was his
little granddaughter.


I could not stay very long, because, my horse being quite unfit to
travel from the injuries which his violence and vice had brought upon
him, there was nothing for me but to go on foot, as none of Uncle Ben's
horses could take me to Plover's Barrows, without downright cruelty: and
though there would be a harvest_moon, Ruth agreed with me that I must
not keep my mother waiting, with no idea where I might be, until a
late hour of the night. I told Ruth all about our Annie, and her noble
furniture; and the little maid was very lively (although her wounds were
paining her so, that half her laughter came 'on the wrong side of her
mouth,' as we rather coarsely express it); especially she laughed about
Annie's new_fangled closet for clothes, or standing_press, as she called
it. This had frightened me so that I would not come without my stick to
look at it; for the front was inlaid with two fiery dragons, and a glass
which distorted everything, making even Annie look hideous; and when it
was opened, a woman's skeleton, all in white, revealed itself, in the
midst of three standing women. 'It is only to keep my best frocks in
shape,' Annie had explained to me; 'hanging them up does ruin them so.
But I own that I was afraid of it, John, until I had got all my best
clothes there, and then I became very fond of it. But even now it
frightens me sometimes in the moonlight.'


Having made poor Ruth a little cheerful, with a full account of all
Annie's frocks, material, pattern, and fashion (of which I had taken a
list for my mother, and for Lizzie, lest they should cry out at man's
stupidity about anything of real interest), I proceeded to tell her
about my own troubles, and the sudden departure of Lorna; concluding
with all the show of indifference which my pride could muster, that
now I never should see her again, and must do my best to forget her, as
being so far above me. I had not intended to speak of this, but Ruth's
face was so kind and earnest, that I could not stop myself.


'You must not talk like that, Cousin Ridd,' she said, in a low and
gentle tone, and turning away her eyes from me; 'no lady can be above
a man, who is pure, and brave, and gentle. And if her heart be worth
having, she will never let you give her up, for her grandeur, and her
nobility.'


She pronounced those last few words, as I thought, with a little
bitterness, unperceived by herself perhaps, for it was not in her
appearance. But I, attaching great importance to a maiden's opinion
about a maiden (because she might judge from experience), would have led
her further into that subject. But she declined to follow, having now no
more to say in a matter so removed from her. Then I asked her full and
straight, and looking at her in such a manner that she could not look
away, without appearing vanquished by feelings of her own__which thing
was very vile of me; but all men are so selfish,__


'Dear cousin, tell me, once for all, what is your advice to me?'


'My advice to you,' she answered bravely, with her dark eyes full of
pride, and instead of flinching, foiling me,__'is to do what every man
must do, if he would win fair maiden. Since she cannot send you token,
neither is free to return to you, follow her, pay your court to her;
show that you will not be forgotten; and perhaps she will look down__I
mean, she will relent to you.'


'She has nothing to relent about. I have never vexed nor injured her.
My thoughts have never strayed from her. There is no one to compare with
her.'


'Then keep her in that same mind about you. See now, I can advise no
more. My arm is swelling painfully, in spite of all your goodness, and
bitter task of surgeonship. I shall have another poultice on, and go to
bed, I think, Cousin Ridd, if you will not hold me ungrateful. I am so
sorry for your long walk. Surely it might be avoided. Give my love to
dear Lizzie: oh, the room is going round so.'


And she fainted into the arms of Sally, who was come just in time to
fetch her: no doubt she had been suffering agony all the time she talked
to me. Leaving word that I would come again to inquire for her,
and fetch Kickums home, so soon as the harvest permitted me, I gave
directions about the horse, and striding away from the ancient town, was
soon upon the moorlands.


Now, through the whole of that long walk__the latter part of which was
led by starlight, till the moon arose__I dwelt, in my young and foolish
way, upon the ordering of our steps by a Power beyond us. But as I could
not bring my mind to any clearness upon this matter, and the stars shed
no light upon it, but rather confused me with wondering how their Lord
could attend to them all, and yet to a puny fool like me, it came to
pass that my thoughts on the subject were not worth ink, if I knew them.


But it is perhaps worth ink to relate, so far as I can do so, mother's
delight at my return, when she had almost abandoned hope, and concluded
that I was gone to London, in disgust at her behaviour. And now she was
looking up the lane, at the rise of the harvest_moon, in despair, as she
said afterwards. But if she had despaired in truth, what use to look at
all? Yet according to the epigram made by a good Blundellite,__


Despair was never yet so deep In sinking as in seeming; Despair is hope
just dropped asleep For better chance of dreaming.


And mother's dream was a happy one, when she knew my step at a furlong
distant; for the night was of those that carry sound thrice as far as
day can. She recovered herself, when she was sure, and even made up her
mind to scold me, and felt as if she could do it. But when she was in
my arms, into which she threw herself, and I by the light of the moon
descried the silver gleam on one side of her head (now spreading since
Annie's departure), bless my heart and yours therewith, no room was left
for scolding. She hugged me, and she clung to me; and I looked at her,
with duty made tenfold, and discharged by love. We said nothing to one
another; but all was right between us.


Even Lizzie behaved very well, so far as her nature admitted; not even
saying a nasty thing all the time she was getting my supper ready, with
a weak imitation of Annie. She knew that the gift of cooking was not
vouchsafed by God to her; but sometimes she would do her best, by
intellect to win it. Whereas it is no more to be won by intellect than
is divine poetry. An amount of strong quick heart is needful, and the
understanding must second it, in the one art as in the other. Now my
fare was very choice for the next three days or more; yet not turned out
like Annie's. They could do a thing well enough on the fire; but they
could not put it on table so; nor even have plates all piping hot. This
was Annie's special gift; born in her, and ready to cool with her; like
a plate borne away from the fireplace. I sighed sometimes about Lorna,
and they thought it was about the plates. And mother would stand and
look at me, as much as to say, 'No pleasing him'; and Lizzie would jerk
up one shoulder, and cry, 'He had better have Lorna to cook for him';
while the whole truth was that I wanted not to be plagued about any
cookery; but just to have something good and quiet, and then smoke and
think about Lorna.


Nevertheless the time went on, with one change and another; and we
gathered all our harvest in; and Parson Bowden thanked God for it,
both in church and out of it; for his tithes would be very goodly. The
unmatched cold of the previous winter, and general fear of scarcity, and
our own talk about our ruin, had sent prices up to a grand high pitch;
and we did our best to keep them there. For nine Englishmen out of every
ten believe that a bitter winter must breed a sour summer, and explain
away topmost prices. While according to my experience, more often it
would be otherwise, except for the public thinking so. However, I have
said too much; and if any farmer reads my book, he will vow that I wrote
it for nothing else except to rob his family.






Lorna Doone by R. D. Blackmore Deluxe Edition Chapter 62


THE KING MUST NOT BE PRAYED FOR


All our neighbourhood was surprised that the Doones had not ere now
attacked, and probably made an end of us. For we lay almost at their
mercy now, having only Sergeant Bloxham, and three men, to protect us,
Captain Stickles having been ordered southwards with all his force;
except such as might be needful for collecting toll, and watching the
imports at Lynmouth, and thence to Porlock. The Sergeant, having now
imbibed a taste for writing reports (though his first great effort had
done him no good, and only offended Stickles), reported weekly from
Plover's Barrows, whenever he could find a messenger. And though we fed
not Sergeant Bloxham at our own table, with the best we had (as in the
case of Stickles, who represented His Majesty), yet we treated him so
well, that he reported very highly of us, as loyal and true_hearted
lieges, and most devoted to our lord the King. And indeed he could
scarcely have done less, when Lizzie wrote great part of his reports,
and furbished up the rest to such a pitch of lustre, that Lord Clarendon
himself need scarce have been ashamed of them. And though this cost a
great deal of ale, and even of strong waters (for Lizzie would have it
the duty of a critic to stand treat to the author), and though it was
otherwise a plague, as giving the maid such airs of patronage, and such
pretence to politics; yet there was no stopping it, without the risk
of mortal offence to both writer and reviewer. Our mother also, while
disapproving Lizzie's long stay in the saddle_room on a Friday night and
a Saturday, and insisting that Betty should be there, was nevertheless
as proud as need be, that the King should read our Eliza' s writings__at
least so the innocent soul believed__and we all looked forward to
something great as the fruit of all this history. And something great
did come of it, though not as we expected; for these reports, or as many
of them as were ever opened, stood us in good stead the next year, when
we were accused of harbouring and comforting guilty rebels.


Now the reason why the Doones did not attack us was that they were
preparing to meet another and more powerful assault upon their fortress;
being assured that their repulse of King's troops could not be looked
over when brought before the authorities. And no doubt they were right;
for although the conflicts in the Government during that summer and
autumn had delayed the matter yet positive orders had been issued that
these outlaws and malefactors should at any price be brought to justice;
when the sudden death of King Charles the Second threw all things into
confusion, and all minds into a panic.


We heard of it first in church, on Sunday, the eighth day of February,
1684_5, from a cousin of John Fry, who had ridden over on purpose from
Porlock. He came in just before the anthem, splashed and heated from his
ride, so that every one turned and looked at him. He wanted to create a
stir (knowing how much would be made of him), and he took the best way
to do it. For he let the anthem go by very quietly__or rather I should
say very pleasingly, for our choir was exceeding proud of itself, and
I sang bass twice as loud as a bull, to beat the clerk with the
clarionet__and then just as Parson Bowden, with a look of pride at his
minstrels, was kneeling down to begin the prayer for the King's Most
Excellent Majesty (for he never read the litany, except upon Easter
Sunday), up jumps young Sam Fry, and shouts,__


'I forbid that there prai_er.'


'What!' cried the parson, rising slowly, and looking for some one to
shut the door: 'have we a rebel in the congregation?' For the parson was
growing short_sighted now, and knew not Sam Fry at that distance.


'No,' replied Sam, not a whit abashed by the staring of all the parish;
'no rebel, parson; but a man who mislaiketh popery and murder. That
there prai_er be a prai_er for the dead.'


'Nay,' cried the parson, now recognising and knowing him to be our
John's first cousin, 'you do not mean to say, Sam, that His Gracious
Majesty is dead!'


'Dead as a sto_un: poisoned by they Papishers.' And Sam rubbed his hands
with enjoyment, at the effect he had produced.


'Remember where you are, Sam,' said Parson Bowden solemnly; 'when did
this most sad thing happen? The King is the head of the Church, Sam Fry;
when did he leave her?'


'Day afore yesterday. Twelve o'clock. Warn't us quick to hear of 'un?'


'Can't be,' said the minister: 'the tidings can never have come so
soon. Anyhow, he will want it all the more. Let us pray for His Gracious
Majesty.'


And with that he proceeded as usual; but nobody cried 'Amen,' for fear
of being entangled with Popery. But after giving forth his text, our
parson said a few words out of book, about the many virtues of His
Majesty, and self_denial, and devotion, comparing his pious mirth to the
dancing of the patriarch David before the ark of the covenant; and he
added, with some severity, that if his flock would not join their pastor
(who was much more likely to judge aright) in praying for the King, the
least they could do on returning home was to pray that the King might
not be dead, as his enemies had asserted.


Now when the service was over, we killed the King, and we brought him to
life, at least fifty times in the churchyard: and Sam Fry was mounted on
a high gravestone, to tell every one all he knew of it. But he knew no
more than he had told us in the church, as before repeated: upon which
we were much disappointed with him, and inclined to disbelieve him;
until he happily remembered that His Majesty had died in great pain,
with blue spots on his breast and black spots all across his back, and
these in the form of a cross, by reason of Papists having poisoned him.
When Sam called this to his remembrance (or to his imagination) he was
overwhelmed, at once, with so many invitations to dinner, that he scarce
knew which of them to accept; but decided in our favour.


Grieving much for the loss of the King, however greatly it might be (as
the parson had declared it was, while telling us to pray against it) for
the royal benefit, I resolved to ride to Porlock myself, directly after
dinner, and make sure whether he were dead, or not. For it was not by
any means hard to suppose that Sam Fry, being John's first cousin, might
have inherited either from grandfather or grandmother some of those
gifts which had made our John so famous for mendacity. At Porlock I
found that it was too true; and the women of the town were in great
distress, for the King had always been popular with them: the men, on
the other hand, were forecasting what would be likely to ensue.


And I myself was of this number, riding sadly home again; although bound
to the King as churchwarden now; which dignity, next to the parson's in
rank, is with us (as it ought to be in every good parish) hereditary.
For who can stick to the church like the man whose father stuck to it
before him; and who knows all the little ins, and great outs, which must
in these troublous times come across?


But though appointed at last, by virtue of being best farmer in the
parish (as well as by vice of mismanagement on the part of my mother,
and Nicholas Snowe, who had thoroughly muxed up everything, being too
quick_headed); yet, while I dwelled with pride upon the fact that I
stood in the King's shoes, as the manager and promoter of the Church of
England, and I knew that we must miss His Majesty (whose arms were above
the Commandments), as the leader of our thoughts in church, and handsome
upon a guinea; nevertheless I kept on thinking how his death would act
on me.


And here I saw it, many ways. In the first place, troubles must break
out; and we had eight_and_twenty ricks; counting grain, and straw, and
hay. Moreover, mother was growing weak about riots, and shooting, and
burning; and she gathered the bed_clothes around her ears every night,
when her feet were tucked up; and prayed not to awake until morning. In
the next place, much rebellion (though we would not own it; in either
sense of the verb, to 'own') was whispering, and plucking skirts, and
making signs, among us. And the terror of the Doones helped greatly;
as a fruitful tree of lawlessness, and a good excuse for everybody.
And after this__or rather before it, and first of all indeed (if I must
state the true order)__arose upon me the thought of Lorna, and how these
things would affect her fate.


And indeed I must admit that it had occurred to me sometimes, or been
suggested by others, that the Lady Lorna had not behaved altogether
kindly, since her departure from among us. For although in those days
the post (as we call the service of letter_carrying, which now comes
within twenty miles of us) did not extend to our part of the world, yet
it might have been possible to procure for hire a man who would ride
post, if Lorna feared to trust the pack_horses, or the troopers, who
went to and fro. Yet no message whatever had reached us; neither any
token even of her safety in London. As to this last, however, we had no
misgivings, having learned from the orderlies, more than once, that
the wealth, and beauty, and adventures of young Lady Lorna Dugal were
greatly talked of, both at court and among the common people.


Now riding sadly homewards, in the sunset of the early spring, I was
more than ever touched with sorrow, and a sense of being, as it were,
abandoned. And the weather growing quite beautiful, and so mild that the
trees were budding, and the cattle full of happiness, I could not but
think of the difference between the world of to_day and the world of
this day twelvemonth. Then all was howling desolation, all the earth
blocked up with snow, and all the air with barbs of ice as small
as splintered needles, yet glittering, in and out, like stars, and
gathering so upon a man (if long he stayed among them) that they began
to weigh him down to sleepiness and frozen death. Not a sign of life
was moving, nor was any change of view; unless the wild wind struck the
crest of some cold drift, and bowed it.


Now, on the other hand, all was good. The open palm of spring was laid
upon the yielding of the hills; and each particular valley seemed to be
the glove for a finger. And although the sun was low, and dipping in the
western clouds, the gray light of the sea came up, and took, and taking,
told the special tone of everything. All this lay upon my heart, without
a word of thinking, spreading light and shadow there, and the soft
delight of sadness. Nevertheless, I would it were the savage snow around
me, and the piping of the restless winds, and the death of everything.
For in those days I had Lorna.


Then I thought of promise fair; such as glowed around me, where the
red rocks held the sun, when he was departed; and the distant crags
endeavoured to retain his memory. But as evening spread across them,
shading with a silent fold, all the colour stole away; all remembrance
waned and died.


'So it has been with love,' I thought, 'and with simple truth and
warmth. The maid has chosen the glittering stars, instead of the plain
daylight.'


Nevertheless I would not give in, although in deep despondency
(especially when I passed the place where my dear father had fought in
vain), and I tried to see things right and then judge aright about them.
This, however, was more easy to attempt than to achieve; and by the time
I came down the hill, I was none the wiser. Only I could tell my mother
that the King was dead for sure; and she would have tried to cry, but
for thought of her mourning.


There was not a moment for lamenting. All the mourning must be ready (if
we cared to beat the Snowes) in eight_and_forty hours: and, although
it was Sunday night, mother now feeling sure of the thing, sat up with
Lizzie, cutting patterns, and stitching things on brown paper, and
snipping, and laying the fashions down, and requesting all opinions, yet
when given, scorning them; insomuch that I grew weary even of tobacco
(which had comforted me since Lorna), and prayed her to go on until the
King should be alive again.


The thought of that so flurried her__for she never yet could see a
joke__that she laid her scissors on the table and said, 'The Lord
forbid, John! after what I have cut up!'


'It would be just like him,' I answered, with a knowing smile: 'Mother,
you had better stop. Patterns may do very well; but don't cut up any
more good stuff.'


'Well, good lack, I am a fool! Three tables pegged with needles! The
Lord in His mercy keep His Majesty, if ever He hath gotten him!'


By this device we went to bed; and not another stitch was struck until
the troopers had office_tidings that the King was truly dead. Hence the
Snowes beat us by a day; and both old Betty and Lizzie laid the blame
upon me, as usual.


Almost before we had put off the mourning, which as loyal subjects we
kept for the King three months and a week; rumours of disturbances, of
plottings, and of outbreak began to stir among us. We heard of fighting
in Scotland, and buying of ships on the continent, and of arms in Dorset
and Somerset; and we kept our beacon in readiness to give signals of a
landing; or rather the soldiers did. For we, having trustworthy reports
that the King had been to high mass himself in the Abbey of Westminster,
making all the bishops go with him, and all the guards in London, and
then tortured all the Protestants who dared to wait outside, moreover
had received from the Pope a flower grown in the Virgin Mary's garden,
and warranted to last for ever, we of the moderate party, hearing all
this and ten times as much, and having no love for this sour James,
such as we had for the lively Charles, were ready to wait for what might
happen, rather than care about stopping it. Therefore we listened to
rumours gladly, and shook our heads with gravity, and predicted, every
man something, but scarce any two the same. Nevertheless, in our part,
things went on as usual, until the middle of June was nigh. We ploughed
the ground, and sowed the corn, and tended the cattle, and heeded every
one his neighbour's business, as carefully as heretofore; and the only
thing that moved us much was that Annie had a baby. This being a very
fine child with blue eyes, and christened 'John' in compliment to me,
and with me for his godfather, it is natural to suppose that I thought
a good deal about him; and when mother or Lizzie would ask me, all of a
sudden, and treacherously, when the fire flared up at supper_time (for
we always kept a little wood just alight in summer_time, and enough to
make the pot boil), then when they would say to me, 'John, what are
you thinking of? At a word, speak!' I would always answer, 'Little John
Faggus'; and so they made no more of me.


But when I was down, on Saturday the thirteenth of June, at the
blacksmith's forge by Brendon town, where the Lynn_stream runs so close
that he dips his horseshoes in it, and where the news is apt to come
first of all to our neighbourhood (except upon a Sunday), while we were
talking of the hay_crop, and of a great sheep_stealer, round the corner
came a man upon a piebald horse looking flagged and weary. But seeing
half a dozen of us, young, and brisk, and hearty, he made a flourish
with his horse, and waved a blue flag vehemently, shouting with great
glory,__


'Monmouth and the Protestant faith! Monmouth and no Popery! Monmouth,
the good King's eldest son! Down with the poisoning murderer! Down with
the black usurper, and to the devil with all papists!'


'Why so, thou little varlet?' I asked very quietly; for the man was too
small to quarrel with: yet knowing Lorna to be a 'papist,' as we choose
to call them__though they might as well call us 'kingists,' after the
head of our Church__I thought that this scurvy scampish knave might show
them the way to the place he mentioned, unless his courage failed him.


'Papist yourself, be you?' said the fellow, not daring to answer much:
'then take this, and read it.'


And he handed me a long rigmarole, which he called a 'Declaration': I
saw that it was but a heap of lies, and thrust it into the blacksmith's
fire, and blew the bellows thrice at it. No one dared attempt to stop
me, for my mood had not been sweet of late; and of course they knew my
strength.


The man rode on with a muttering noise, having won no recruits from us,
by force of my example: and he stopped at the ale_house farther down,
where the road goes away from the Lynn_stream. Some of us went thither
after a time, when our horses were shodden and rasped, for although we
might not like the man, we might be glad of his tidings, which seemed to
be something wonderful. He had set up his blue flag in the tap_room, and
was teaching every one.


'Here coom'th Maister Jan Ridd,' said the landlady, being well pleased
with the call for beer and cider: 'her hath been to Lunnon_town, and
live within a maile of me. Arl the news coom from them nowadays, instead
of from here, as her ought to do. If Jan Ridd say it be true, I will try
almost to belave it. Hath the good Duke landed, sir?' And she looked at
me over a foaming cup, and blew the froth off, and put more in.


'I have no doubt it is true enough,' I answered, before drinking; 'and
too true, Mistress Pugsley. Many a poor man will die; but none shall die
from our parish, nor from Brendon, if I can help it.'


And I knew that I could help it; for every one in those little places
would abide by my advice; not only from the fame of my schooling and
long sojourn in London, but also because I had earned repute for being
very 'slow and sure': and with nine people out of ten this is the very
best recommendation. For they think themselves much before you in wit,
and under no obligation, but rather conferring a favour, by doing the
thing that you do. Hence, if I cared for influence__which means, for
the most part, making people do one's will, without knowing it__my first
step toward it would be to be called, in common parlance, 'slow but
sure.'


For the next fortnight we were daily troubled with conflicting rumours,
each man relating what he desired, rather than what he had right, to
believe. We were told that the Duke had been proclaimed King of England
in every town of Dorset and of Somerset; that he had won a great battle
at Axminster, and another at Bridport, and another somewhere else;
that all the western counties had risen as one man for him, and all
the militia had joined his ranks; that Taunton, and Bridgwater, and
Bristowe, were all mad with delight, the two former being in his hands,
and the latter craving to be so. And then, on the other hand, we heard
that the Duke had been vanquished, and put to flight, and upon being
apprehended, had confessed himself an impostor and a papist as bad as
the King was.


We longed for Colonel Stickles (as he always became in time of war,
though he fell back to Captain, and even Lieutenant, directly the fight
was over), for then we should have won trusty news, as well as good
consideration. But even Sergeant Bloxham, much against his will, was
gone, having left his heart with our Lizzie, and a collection of all
his writings. All the soldiers had been ordered away at full speed for
Exeter, to join the Duke of Albemarle, or if he were gone, to follow
him. As for us, who had fed them so long (although not quite for
nothing), we must take our chance of Doones, or any other enemies.


Now all these tidings moved me a little; not enough to spoil appetite,
but enough to make things lively, and to teach me that look of wisdom
which is bred of practice only, and the hearing of many lies. Therefore
I withheld my judgment, fearing to be triumphed over, if it should
happen to miss the mark. But mother and Lizzie, ten times in a day,
predicted all they could imagine; and their prophecies increased in
strength according to contradiction. Yet this was not in the proper
style for a house like ours, which knew the news, or at least had known
it; and still was famous, all around, for the last advices. Even from
Lynmouth, people sent up to Plover's Barrows to ask how things were
going on: and it was very grievous to answer that in truth we knew not,
neither had heard for days and days; and our reputation was so great,
especially since the death of the King had gone abroad from Oare parish,
that many inquirers would only wink, and lay a finger on the lip, as if
to say, 'you know well enough, but see not fit to tell me.' And before
the end arrived, those people believed that they had been right all
along, and that we had concealed the truth from them.


For I myself became involved (God knows how much against my will and my
proper judgment) in the troubles, and the conflict, and the cruel work
coming afterwards. If ever I had made up my mind to anything in all my
life, it was at this particular time, and as stern and strong as could
be. I had resolved to let things pass,__to hear about them gladly, to
encourage all my friends to talk, and myself to express opinion upon
each particular point, when in the fullness of time no further doubt
could be. But all my policy went for nothing, through a few touches of
feeling.


One day at the beginning of July, I came home from mowing about noon, or
a little later, to fetch some cider for all of us, and to eat a morsel
of bacon. For mowing was no joke that year, the summer being wonderfully
wet (even for our wet country), and the swathe falling heavier over the
scythe than ever I could remember it. We were drenched with rain almost
every day; but the mowing must be done somehow; and we must trust to God
for the haymaking.


In the courtyard I saw a little cart, with iron brakes underneath it,
such as fastidious people use to deaden the jolting of the road; but few
men under a lord or baronet would be so particular. Therefore I wondered
who our noble visitor could be. But when I entered the kitchen_place,
brushing up my hair for somebody, behold it was no one greater than our
Annie, with my godson in her arms, and looking pale and tear_begone.
And at first she could not speak to me. But presently having sat down a
little, and received much praise for her baby, she smiled and blushed,
and found her tongue as if she had never gone from us.


'How natural it all looks again! Oh, I love this old kitchen so! Baby
dear, only look at it wid him pitty, pitty eyes, and him tongue out of
his mousy! But who put the flour_riddle up there. And look at the pestle
and mortar, and rust I declare in the patty pans! And a book, positively
a dirty book, where the clean skewers ought to hang! Oh, Lizzie, Lizzie,
Lizzie!'


'You may just as well cease lamenting,' I said, 'for you can't alter
Lizzie's nature, and you will only make mother uncomfortable, and
perhaps have a quarrel with Lizzie, who is proud as Punch of her
housekeeping.'


'She,' cried Annie, with all the contempt that could be compressed in a
syllable. 'Well, John, no doubt you are right about it. I will try not
to notice things. But it is a hard thing, after all my care, to see
everything going to ruin. But what can be expected of a girl who knows
all the kings of Carthage?'


'There were no kings of Carthage, Annie. They were called, why let me
see__they were called__oh, something else.'


'Never mind what they were called,' said Annie; 'will they cook our
dinner for us? But now, John, I am in such trouble. All this talk is
make_believe.'


'Don't you cry, my dear: don't cry, my darling sister,' I answered,
as she dropped into the worn place of the settle, and bent above her
infant, rocking as if both their hearts were one: 'don't you know,
Annie, I cannot tell, but I know, or at least I mean, I have heard the
men of experience say, it is so bad for the baby.'


'Perhaps I know that as well as you do, John,' said Annie, looking up at
me with a gleam of her old laughing: 'but how can I help crying; I am in
such trouble.'


'Tell me what it is, my dear. Any grief of yours will vex me greatly;
but I will try to bear it.'


'Then, John, it is just this. Tom has gone off with the rebels; and you
must, oh, you must go after him.'






Lorna Doone by R. D. Blackmore Deluxe Edition Chapter 63


JOHN IS WORSTED BY THE WOMEN


Moved as I was by Annie's tears, and gentle style of coaxing, and most
of all by my love for her, I yet declared that I could not go, and leave
our house and homestead, far less my dear mother and Lizzie, at the
mercy of the merciless Doones.


'Is that all your objection, John?' asked Annie, in her quick panting
way: 'would you go but for that, John?'


'Now,' I said, 'be in no such hurry'__for while I was gradually
yielding, I liked to pass it through my fingers, as if my fingers shaped
it: 'there are many things to be thought about, and many ways of viewing
it.'


'Oh, you never can have loved Lorna! No wonder you gave her up so! John,
you can love nobody, but your oat_ricks, and your hay_ricks.'


'Sister mine, because I rant not, neither rave of what I feel, can you
be so shallow as to dream that I feel nothing? What is your love for
Tom Faggus? What is your love for your baby (pretty darling as he is)
to compare with such a love as for ever dwells with me? Because I do not
prate of it; because it is beyond me, not only to express, but even form
to my own heart in thoughts; because I do not shape my face, and would
scorn to play to it, as a thing of acting, and lay it out before you,
are you fools enough to think__' but here I stopped, having said more
than was usual with me.


'I am very sorry, John. Dear John, I am so sorry. What a shallow fool I
am!'


'I will go seek your husband,' I said, to change the subject, for even
to Annie I would not lay open all my heart about Lorna: 'but only
upon condition that you ensure this house and people from the Doones
meanwhile. Even for the sake of Tom, I cannot leave all helpless. The
oat_ricks and the hay_ricks, which are my only love, they are welcome to
make cinders of. But I will not have mother treated so; nor even little
Lizzie, although you scorn your sister so.'


'Oh, John, I do think you are the hardest, as well as the softest of all
the men I know. Not even a woman's bitter word but what you pay her out
for. Will you never understand that we are not like you, John? We say
all sorts of spiteful things, without a bit of meaning. John, for God's
sake fetch Tom home; and then revile me as you please, and I will kneel
and thank you.'


'I will not promise to fetch him home,' I answered, being ashamed of
myself for having lost command so: 'but I will promise to do my best, if
we can only hit on a plan for leaving mother harmless.'


Annie thought for a little while, trying to gather her smooth clear brow
into maternal wrinkles, and then she looked at her child, and said, 'I
will risk it, for daddy's sake, darling; you precious soul, for daddy's
sake.' I asked her what she was going to risk. She would not tell me;
but took upper hand, and saw to my cider_cans and bacon, and went from
corner to cupboard, exactly as if she had never been married; only
without an apron on. And then she said, 'Now to your mowers, John; and
make the most of this fine afternoon; kiss your godson before you go.'
And I, being used to obey her, in little things of that sort, kissed the
baby, and took my cans, and went back to my scythe again.


By the time I came home it was dark night, and pouring again with a
foggy rain, such as we have in July, even more than in January. Being
soaked all through, and through, and with water quelching in my boots,
like a pump with a bad bucket, I was only too glad to find Annie's
bright face, and quick figure, flitting in and out the firelight,
instead of Lizzie sitting grandly, with a feast of literature, and not
a drop of gravy. Mother was in the corner also, with her cheery_coloured
ribbons glistening very nice by candle_light, looking at Annie now and
then, with memories of her babyhood; and then at her having a baby: yet
half afraid of praising her much, for fear of that young Lizzie. But
Lizzie showed no jealousy: she truly loved our Annie (now that she
was gone from us), and she wanted to know all sorts of things, and she
adored the baby. Therefore Annie was allowed to attend to me, as she
used to do.


'Now, John, you must start the first thing in the morning,' she said,
when the others had left the room, but somehow she stuck to the baby,
'to fetch me back my rebel, according to your promise.'


'Not so,' I replied, misliking the job, 'all I promised was to go, if
this house were assured against any onslaught of the Doones.'


'Just so; and here is that assurance.' With these words she drew forth a
paper, and laid it on my knee with triumph, enjoying my amazement. This,
as you may suppose was great; not only at the document, but also at her
possession of it. For in truth it was no less than a formal undertaking,
on the part of the Doones, not to attack Plover's Barrows farm, or
molest any of the inmates, or carry off any chattels, during the absence
of John Ridd upon a special errand. This document was signed not only
by the Counsellor, but by many other Doones: whether Carver's name were
there, I could not say for certain; as of course he would not sign it
under his name of 'Carver,' and I had never heard Lorna say to what (if
any) he had been baptized.


In the face of such a deed as this, I could no longer refuse to go; and
having received my promise, Annie told me (as was only fair) how she had
procured that paper. It was both a clever and courageous act; and would
have seemed to me, at first sight, far beyond Annie's power. But none
may gauge a woman's power, when her love and faith are moved.


The first thing Annie had done was this: she made herself look ugly.
This was not an easy thing; but she had learned a great deal from her
husband, upon the subject of disguises. It hurt her feelings not a
little to make so sad a fright of herself; but what could it matter?__if
she lost Tom, she must be a far greater fright in earnest, than now
she was in seeming. And then she left her child asleep, under Betty
Muxworthy's tendance__for Betty took to that child, as if there never
had been a child before__and away she went in her own 'spring_cart' (as
the name of that engine proved to be), without a word to any one, except
the old man who had driven her from Molland parish that morning, and who
coolly took one of our best horses, without 'by your leave' to any one.


Annie made the old man drive her within easy reach of the Doone_gate,
whose position she knew well enough, from all our talk about it. And
there she bade the old man stay, until she should return to him. Then
with her comely figure hidden by a dirty old woman's cloak, and her fair
young face defaced by patches and by liniments, so that none might covet
her, she addressed the young man at the gate in a cracked and trembling
voice; and they were scarcely civil to the 'old hag,' as they called
her. She said that she bore important tidings for Sir Counsellor
himself, and must be conducted to him. To him accordingly she was led,
without even any hoodwinking, for she had spectacles over her eyes, and
made believe not to see ten yards.


She found Sir Counsellor at home, and when the rest were out of sight,
threw off all disguise to him, flashing forth as a lovely young woman,
from all her wraps and disfigurements. She flung her patches on the
floor, amid the old man's laughter, and let her tucked_up hair come
down; and then went up and kissed him.


'Worthy and reverend Counsellor, I have a favour to ask,' she began.


'So I should think from your proceedings,'__the old man
interrupted__'ah, if I were half my age'__


'If you were, I would not sue so. But most excellent Counsellor, you owe
me some amends, you know, for the way in which you robbed me.'


'Beyond a doubt I do, my dear. You have put it rather strongly; and it
might offend some people. Nevertheless I own my debt, having so fair a
creditor.'


'And do you remember how you slept, and how much we made of you, and
would have seen you home, sir; only you did not wish it?'


'And for excellent reasons, child. My best escort was in my cloak, after
we made the cream to rise. Ha, ha! The unholy spell. My pretty child,
has it injured you?'


'Yes, I fear it has, said Annie; 'or whence can all my ill luck come?'
And here she showed some signs of crying, knowing that Counsellor hated
it.


'You shall not have ill luck, my dear. I have heard all about your
marriage to a very noble highwayman. Ah, you made a mistake in that; you
were worthy of a Doone, my child; your frying was a blessing meant for
those who can appreciate.'


'My husband can appreciate,' she answered very proudly; 'but what I wish
to know is this, will you try to help me?'


The Counsellor answered that he would do so, if her needs were moderate;
whereupon she opened her meaning to him, and told of all her anxieties.
Considering that Lorna was gone, and her necklace in his possession, and
that I (against whom alone of us the Doones could bear any malice) would
be out of the way all the while, the old man readily undertook that
our house should not be assaulted, nor our property molested, until
my return. And to the promptitude of his pledge, two things perhaps
contributed, namely, that he knew not how we were stripped of all
defenders, and that some of his own forces were away in the rebel camp.
For (as I learned thereafter) the Doones being now in direct feud with
the present Government, and sure to be crushed if that prevailed, had
resolved to drop all religious questions, and cast in their lot with
Monmouth. And the turbulent youths, being long restrained from their
wonted outlet for vehemence, by the troopers in the neighbourhood, were
only too glad to rush forth upon any promise of blows and excitement.


However, Annie knew little of this, but took the Counsellor's pledge as
a mark of especial favour in her behalf (which it may have been to some
extent), and thanked him for it most heartily, and felt that he had
earned the necklace; while he, like an ancient gentleman, disclaimed all
obligation, and sent her under an escort safe to her own cart again.
But Annie, repassing the sentinels, with her youth restored and blooming
with the flush of triumph, went up to them very gravely, and said,
'The old hag wishes you good_evening, gentlemen'; and so made her best
curtsey.


Now, look at it as I would, there was no excuse left for me, after the
promise given. Dear Annie had not only cheated the Doones, but also had
gotten the best of me, by a pledge to a thing impossible. And I bitterly
said, 'I am not like Lorna: a pledge once given, I keep it.'


'I will not have a word against Lorna,' cried Annie; 'I will answer for
her truth as surely as I would for my own or yours, John.' And with that
she vanquished me.


But when my poor mother heard that I was committed, by word of honour,
to a wild_goose chase, among the rebels, after that runagate Tom Faggus,
she simply stared, and would not believe it. For lately I had joked with
her, in a little style of jerks, as people do when out of sorts; and
she, not understanding this, and knowing jokes to be out of my power,
would only look, and sigh, and toss, and hope that I meant nothing. At
last, however, we convinced her that I was in earnest, and must be off
in the early morning, and leave John Fry with the hay crop.


Then mother was ready to fall upon Annie, as not content with disgracing
us, by wedding a man of new honesty (if indeed of any), but laying traps
to catch her brother, and entangle him perhaps to his death, for the
sake of a worthless fellow; and 'felon'__she was going to say, as by the
shape of her lips I knew. But I laid my hand upon dear mother's lips;
because what must be, must be; and if mother and daughter stayed at
home, better in love than in quarrelling.


Right early in the morning, I was off, without word to any one; knowing
that mother and sister mine had cried each her good self to sleep;
relenting when the light was out, and sorry for hard words and thoughts;
and yet too much alike in nature to understand each other. Therefore
I took good Kickums, who (although with one eye spoiled) was worth ten
sweet_tempered horses, to a man who knew how to manage him; and being
well charged both with bacon and powder, forth I set on my wild_goose
chase.


For this I claim no bravery. I cared but little what came of it;
save for mother's sake, and Annie's, and the keeping of the farm, and
discomfiture of the Snowes, and lamenting of Lorna at my death, if die I
must in a lonesome manner, not found out till afterwards, and bleaching
bones left to weep over. However, I had a little kettle, and a pound and
a half of tobacco, and two dirty pipes and a clean one; also a bit of
clothes for change, also a brisket of hung venison, and four loaves of
farmhouse bread, and of the upper side of bacon a stone and a half it
might be__not to mention divers small things for campaigning, which may
come in handily, when no one else has gotten them.


We went away in merry style; my horse being ready for anything, and I
only glad of a bit of change, after months of working and brooding; with
no content to crown the work; no hope to hatch the brooding; or
without hatching to reckon it. Who could tell but what Lorna might be
discovered, or at any rate heard of, before the end of this campaign; if
campaign it could be called of a man who went to fight nobody, only
to redeem a runagate? And vexed as I was about the hay, and the
hunch_backed ricks John was sure to make (which spoil the look of a
farm_yard), still even this was better than to have the mows and houses
fired, as I had nightly expected, and been worn out with the worry of
it.


Yet there was one thing rather unfavourable to my present enterprise,
namely, that I knew nothing of the country I was bound to, nor even in
what part of it my business might be supposed to lie. For beside the
uncertainty caused by the conflict of reports, it was likely that King
Monmouth's army would be moving from place to place, according to the
prospect of supplies and of reinforcements. However, there would arise
more chance of getting news as I went on: and my road being towards the
east and south, Dulverton would not lie so very far aside of it, but
what it might be worth a visit, both to collect the latest tidings, and
to consult the maps and plans in Uncle Reuben's parlour. Therefore I
drew the off_hand rein, at the cross_road on the hills, and made for
the town; expecting perhaps to have breakfast with Master Huckaback, and
Ruth, to help and encourage us. This little maiden was now become a very
great favourite with me, having long outgrown, no doubt, her childish
fancies and follies, such as my mother and Annie had planted under her
soft brown hair. It had been my duty, as well as my true interest (for
Uncle Ben was more and more testy, as he went on gold_digging), to ride
thither, now and again, to inquire what the doctor thought of her. Not
that her wounds were long in healing, but that people can scarcely
be too careful and too inquisitive, after a great horse_bite. And she
always let me look at the arm, as I had been first doctor; and she held
it up in a graceful manner, curving at the elbow, and with a sweep of
white roundness going to a wrist the size of my thumb or so, and
without any thimble_top standing forth, such as even our Annie had. But
gradually all I could see, above the elbow, where the bite had been,
was very clear, transparent skin, with very firm sweet flesh below, and
three little blue marks as far asunder as the prongs of a toasting_fork,
and no deeper than where a twig has chafed the peel of a waxen apple.
And then I used to say in fun, as the children do, 'Shall I kiss it, to
make it well, dear?'


Now Ruth looked very grave indeed, upon hearing of this my enterprise;
and crying, said she could almost cry, for the sake of my dear mother.
Did I know the risks and chances, not of the battlefield alone, but
of the havoc afterwards; the swearing away of innocent lives, and the
hurdle, and the hanging? And if I would please not to laugh (which was
so unkind of me), had I never heard of imprisonments, and torturing with
the cruel boot, and selling into slavery, where the sun and the lash
outvied one another in cutting a man to pieces? I replied that of all
these things I had heard, and would take especial care to steer me free
of all of them. My duty was all that I wished to do; and none could harm
me for doing that. And I begged my cousin to give me good_speed, instead
of talking dolefully. Upon this she changed her manner wholly, becoming
so lively and cheerful that I was convinced of her indifference, and
surprised even more than gratified.


'Go and earn your spurs, Cousin Ridd,' she said: 'you are strong enough
for anything. Which side is to have the benefit of your doughty arm?'


'Have I not told you, Ruth,' I answered, not being fond of this kind of
talk, more suitable for Lizzie, 'that I do not mean to join either side,
that is to say, until__'


'Until, as the common proverb goes, you know which way the cat will
jump. Oh, John Ridd! Oh, John Ridd!'


'Nothing of the sort,' said I: 'what a hurry you are in! I am for the
King of course.'


'But not enough to fight for him. Only enough to vote, I suppose, or
drink his health, or shout for him.'


'I can't make you out to_day, Cousin Ruth; you are nearly as bad as
Lizzie. You do not say any bitter things, but you seem to mean them.'


'No, cousin, think not so of me. It is far more likely that I say them,
without meaning them.'


'Anyhow, it is not like you. And I know not what I can have done in any
way, to vex you.'


'Dear me, nothing, Cousin Ridd; you never do anything to vex me.'


'Then I hope I shall do something now, Ruth, when I say good_bye. God
knows if we ever shall meet again, Ruth: but I hope we may.'


'To be sure we shall,' she answered in her brightest manner. 'Try not
to look wretched, John: you are as happy as a Maypole.'


'And you as a rose in May,' I said; 'and pretty nearly as pretty. Give
my love to Uncle Ben; and I trust him to keep on the winning side.'


'Of that you need have no misgivings. Never yet has he failed of it.
Now, Cousin Ridd, why go you not? You hurried me so at breakfast time?'


'My only reason for waiting, Ruth, is that you have not kissed me, as
you are almost bound to do, for the last time perhaps of seeing me.'


'Oh, if that is all, just fetch the stool; and I will do my best,
cousin.'


'I pray you be not so vexatious; you always used to do it nicely,
without any stool, Ruth.'


'Ah, but you are grown since then, and become a famous man, John Ridd,
and a member of the nobility. Go your way, and win your spurs. I want no
lip_service.'


Being at the end of my wits, I did even as she ordered me. At least I
had no spurs to win, because there were big ones on my boots, paid for
in the Easter bill, and made by a famous saddler, so as never to clog
with marsh_weed, but prick as hard as any horse, in reason, could
desire. And Kickums never wanted spurs; but always went tail_foremost,
if anybody offered them for his consideration.






Lorna Doone by R. D. Blackmore Deluxe Edition Chapter 64


SLAUGHTER IN THE MARSHES


We rattled away at a merry pace, out of the town of Dulverton; my horse
being gaily fed, and myself quite fit again for going. Of course I was
puzzled about Cousin Ruth; for her behaviour was not at all such as I
had expected; and indeed I had hoped for a far more loving and moving
farewell than I got from her. But I said to myself, 'It is useless ever
to count upon what a woman will do; and I think that I must have vexed
her, almost as much as she vexed me. And now to see what comes of
it.' So I put my horse across the moorland; and he threw his chest out
bravely.


Now if I tried to set down at length all the things that happened to me,
upon this adventure, every in and out, and up and down, and to and fro,
that occupied me, together with the things I saw, and the things I heard
of, however much the wiser people might applaud my narrative, it is
likely enough that idle readers might exclaim, 'What ails this man?
Knows he not that men of parts and of real understanding, have told
us all we care to hear of that miserable business. Let him keep to his
farm, and his bacon, and his wrestling, and constant feeding.'


Fearing to meet with such rebuffs (which after my death would vex me), I
will try to set down only what is needful for my story, and the clearing
of my character, and the good name of our parish. But the manner in
which I was bandied about, by false information, from pillar to post, or
at other times driven quite out of my way by the presence of the King's
soldiers, may be known by the names of the following towns, to which
I was sent in succession, Bath, Frome, Wells, Wincanton, Glastonbury,
Shepton, Bradford, Axbridge, Somerton, and Bridgwater.


This last place I reached on a Sunday night, the fourth or fifth of
July, I think__or it might be the sixth, for that matter; inasmuch as I
had been too much worried to get the day of the month at church. Only I
know that my horse and myself were glad to come to a decent place, where
meat and corn could be had for money; and being quite weary of wandering
about, we hoped to rest there a little.


Of this, however, we found no chance, for the town was full of the good
Duke's soldiers; if men may be called so, the half of whom had never
been drilled, nor had fired a gun. And it was rumoured among them,
that the 'popish army,' as they called it, was to be attacked that very
night, and with God's assistance beaten. However, by this time I had
been taught to pay little attention to rumours; and having sought vainly
for Tom Faggus among these poor rustic warriors, I took to my hostel;
and went to bed, being as weary as weary can be.


Falling asleep immediately, I took heed of nothing; although the town
was all alive, and lights had come glancing, as I lay down, and shouts
making echo all round my room. But all I did was to bolt the door; not
an inch would I budge, unless the house, and even my bed, were on fire.
And so for several hours I lay, in the depth of the deepest slumber,
without even a dream on its surface; until I was roused and awakened at
last by a pushing, and pulling, and pinching, and a plucking of hair out
by the roots. And at length, being able to open mine eyes, I saw the old
landlady, with a candle, heavily wondering at me.


'Can't you let me alone?' I grumbled. 'I have paid for my bed, mistress;
and I won't get up for any one.'


'Would to God, young man,' she answered, shaking me as hard as ever,
'that the popish soldiers may sleep this night, only half as strong as
thou dost! Fie on thee, fie on thee! Get up, and go fight; we can hear
the battle already; and a man of thy size mought stop a cannon.'


'I would rather stop a_bed,' said I; 'what have I to do with fighting? I
am for King James, if any.'


'Then thou mayest even stop a_bed,' the old woman muttered sulkily. 'A
would never have laboured half an hour to awake a Papisher. But hearken
you one thing, young man; Zummerzett thou art, by thy brogue; or at
least by thy understanding of it; no Zummerzett maid will look at thee,
in spite of thy size and stature, unless thou strikest a blow this
night.'


'I lack no Zummerzett maid, mistress: I have a fairer than your brown
things; and for her alone would I strike a blow.'


At this the old woman gave me up, as being beyond correction: and
it vexed me a little that my great fame had not reached so far as
Bridgwater, when I thought that it went to Bristowe. But those people in
East Somerset know nothing about wrestling. Devon is the headquarters
of the art; and Devon is the county of my chief love. Howbeit, my vanity
was moved, by this slur upon it__for I had told her my name was John
Ridd, when I had a gallon of ale with her, ere ever I came upstairs; and
she had nodded, in such a manner, that I thought she knew both name
and fame__and here was I, not only shaken, pinched, and with many hairs
pulled out, in the midst of my first good sleep for a week, but also
abused, and taken amiss, and (which vexed me most of all) unknown.


Now there is nothing like vanity to keep a man awake at night, however
he be weary; and most of all, when he believes that he is doing
something great__this time, if never done before__yet other people will
not see, except what they may laugh at; and so be far above him, and
sleep themselves the happier. Therefore their sleep robs his own; for
all things play so, in and out (with the godly and ungodly ever moving
in a balance, as they have done in my time, almost every year or two),
all things have such nice reply of produce to the call for it, and such
a spread across the world, giving here and taking there, yet on the
whole pretty even, that haply sleep itself has but a certain stock,
and keeps in hand, and sells to flattered (which can pay) that which
flattened vanity cannot pay, and will not sue for.


Be that as it may, I was by this time wide awake, though much aggrieved
at feeling so, and through the open window heard the distant roll of
musketry, and the beating of drums, with a quick rub_a_dub, and the
'come round the corner' of trumpet_call. And perhaps Tom Faggus might be
there, and shot at any moment, and my dear Annie left a poor widow, and
my godson Jack an orphan, without a tooth to help him.


Therefore I reviled myself for all my heavy laziness; and partly through
good honest will, and partly through the stings of pride, and yet a
little perhaps by virtue of a young man's love of riot, up I arose, and
dressed myself, and woke Kickums (who was snoring), and set out to see
the worst of it. The sleepy hostler scratched his poll, and could not
tell me which way to take; what odds to him who was King, or Pope, so
long as he paid his way, and got a bit of bacon on Sunday? And would I
please to remember that I had roused him up at night, and the quality
always made a point of paying four times over for a man's loss of
his beauty_sleep. I replied that his loss of beauty_sleep was rather
improving to a man of so high complexion; and that I, being none of the
quality, must pay half_quality prices: and so I gave him double fee, as
became a good farmer; and he was glad to be quit of Kickums; as I saw by
the turn of his eye, while going out at the archway.


All this was done by lanthorn light, although the moon was high and
bold; and in the northern heaven, flags and ribbons of a jostling
pattern; such as we often have in autumn, but in July very rarely. Of
these Master Dryden has spoken somewhere, in his courtly manner; but of
him I think so little__because by fashion preferred to Shakespeare__that
I cannot remember the passage; neither is it a credit to him.


Therefore I was guided mainly by the sound of guns and trumpets, in
riding out of the narrow ways, and into the open marshes. And thus I
might have found my road, in spite of all the spread of water, and the
glaze of moonshine; but that, as I followed sound (far from hedge or
causeway), fog (like a chestnut_tree in blossom, touched with moonlight)
met me. Now fog is a thing that I understand, and can do with well
enough, where I know the country; but here I had never been before. It
was nothing to our Exmoor fogs; not to be compared with them; and all
the time one could see the moon; which we cannot do in our fogs; nor
even the sun, for a week together. Yet the gleam of water always makes
the fog more difficult: like a curtain on a mirror; none can tell the
boundaries.


And here we had broad_water patches, in and out, inlaid on land, like
mother_of_pearl in brown Shittim wood. To a wild duck, born and bred
there, it would almost be a puzzle to find her own nest amongst us; what
chance then had I and Kickums, both unused to marsh and mere? Each time
when we thought that we must be right, now at last, by track or passage,
and approaching the conflict, with the sounds of it waxing nearer,
suddenly a break of water would be laid before us, with the moon looking
mildly over it, and the northern lights behind us, dancing down the
lines of fog.


It was an awful thing, I say (and to this day I remember it), to hear
the sounds of raging fight, and the yells of raving slayers, and the
howls of poor men stricken hard, and shattered from wrath to wailing;
then suddenly the dead low hush, as of a soul departing, and spirits
kneeling over it. Through the vapour of the earth, and white breath of
the water, and beneath the pale round moon (bowing as the drift went
by), all this rush and pause of fear passed or lingered on my path.


At last, when I almost despaired of escaping from this tangle of spongy
banks, and of hazy creeks, and reed_fringe, my horse heard the neigh
of a fellow_horse, and was only too glad to answer it; upon which the
other, having lost its rider, came up and pricked his ears at us, and
gazed through the fog very steadfastly. Therefore I encouraged him with
a soft and genial whistle, and Kickums did his best to tempt him with a
snort of inquiry. However, nothing would suit that nag, except to enjoy
his new freedom; and he capered away with his tail set on high, and the
stirrup_irons clashing under him. Therefore, as he might know the way,
and appeared to have been in the battle, we followed him very carefully;
and he led us to a little hamlet, called (as I found afterwards) West
Zuyland, or Zealand, so named perhaps from its situation amid this
inland sea.


Here the King's troops had been quite lately, and their fires were still
burning; but the men themselves had been summoned away by the night
attack of the rebels. Hence I procured for my guide a young man who knew
the district thoroughly, and who led me by many intricate ways to the
rear of the rebel army. We came upon a broad open moor striped with
sullen water courses, shagged with sedge, and yellow iris, and in the
drier part with bilberries. For by this time it was four o'clock, and
the summer sun, rising wanly, showed us all the ghastly scene.


Would that I had never been there! Often in the lonely hours, even now
it haunts me: would, far more, that the piteous thing had never been
done in England! Flying men, flung back from dreams of victory and
honour, only glad to have the luck of life and limbs to fly with,
mud_bedraggled, foul with slime, reeking both with sweat and blood,
which they could not stop to wipe, cursing, with their pumped_out lungs,
every stick that hindered them, or gory puddle that slipped the step,
scarcely able to leap over the corses that had dragged to die. And to
see how the corses lay; some, as fair as death in sleep; with the smile
of placid valour, and of noble manhood, hovering yet on the silent lips.
These had bloodless hands put upwards, white as wax, and firm as death,
clasped (as on a monument) in prayer for dear ones left behind, or in
high thanksgiving. And of these men there was nothing in their broad
blue eyes to fear. But others were of different sort; simple fellows
unused to pain, accustomed to the bill_hook, perhaps, or rasp of the
knuckles in a quick_set hedge, or making some to_do at breakfast, over a
thumb cut in sharpening a scythe, and expecting their wives to make more
to_do. Yet here lay these poor chaps, dead; dead, after a deal of pain,
with little mind to bear it, and a soul they had never thought of; gone,
their God alone knows whither; but to mercy we may trust. Upon these
things I cannot dwell; and none I trow would ask me: only if a plain man
saw what I saw that morning, he (if God had blessed him with the heart
that is in most of us) must have sickened of all desire to be great
among mankind.


Seeing me riding to the front (where the work of death went on among
the men of true English pluck; which, when moved, no farther moves), the
fugitives called out to me, in half a dozen dialects, to make no utter
fool of myself; for the great guns were come, and the fight was over;
all the rest was slaughter.


'Arl oop wi Moonmo',' shouted one big fellow, a miner of the Mendip
hills, whose weapon was a pickaxe: 'na oose to vaight na moor. Wend thee
hame, yoong mon agin.'


Upon this I stopped my horse, desiring not to be shot for nothing; and
eager to aid some poor sick people, who tried to lift their arms to
me. And this I did to the best of my power, though void of skill in
the business; and more inclined to weep with them than to check their
weeping. While I was giving a drop of cordial from my flask to one poor
fellow, who sat up, while his life was ebbing, and with slow insistence
urged me, when his broken voice would come, to tell his wife (whose name
I knew not) something about an apple_tree, and a golden guinea stored in
it, to divide among six children__in the midst of this I felt warm lips
laid against my cheek quite softly, and then a little push; and behold
it was a horse leaning over me! I arose in haste, and there stood
Winnie, looking at me with beseeching eyes, enough to melt a heart of
stone. Then seeing my attention fixed she turned her head, and glanced
back sadly toward the place of battle, and gave a little wistful neigh:
and then looked me full in the face again, as much as to say, 'Do you
understand?' while she scraped with one hoof impatiently. If ever a
horse tried hard to speak, it was Winnie at that moment. I went to her
side and patted her; but that was not what she wanted. Then I offered to
leap into the empty saddle; but neither did that seem good to her: for
she ran away toward the part of the field at which she had been glancing
back, and then turned round, and shook her mane, entreating me to follow
her.


Upon this I learned from the dying man where to find his apple_tree, and
promised to add another guinea to the one in store for his children; and
so, commending him to God, I mounted my own horse again, and to Winnie's
great delight, professed myself at her service. With her ringing silvery
neigh, such as no other horse of all I ever knew could equal, she at
once proclaimed her triumph, and told her master (or meant to tell, if
death should not have closed his ears) that she was coming to his aid,
and bringing one who might be trusted, of the higher race that kill.


A cannon_bullet (fired low, and ploughing the marsh slowly) met poor
Winnie front to front; and she, being as quick as thought, lowered her
nose to sniff at it. It might be a message from her master; for it made
a mournful noise. But luckily for Winnie's life, a rise of wet ground
took the ball, even under her very nose; and there it cut a splashy
groove, missing her off hindfoot by an inch, and scattering black mud
over her. It frightened me much more than Winnie; of that I am quite
certain: because though I am firm enough, when it comes to a real
tussle, and the heart of a fellow warms up and tells him that he must go
through with it; yet I never did approve of making a cold pie of death.


Therefore, with those reckless cannons, brazen_mouthed, and bellowing,
two furlongs off, or it might be more (and the more the merrier), I
would have given that year's hay_crop for a bit of a hill, or a thicket
of oaks, or almost even a badger's earth. People will call me a coward
for this (especially when I had made up my mind, that life was not worth
having without any sign of Lorna); nevertheless, I cannot help it: those
were my feelings; and I set them down, because they made a mark on me.
At Glen Doone I had fought, even against cannon, with some spirit and
fury: but now I saw nothing to fight about; but rather in every poor
doubled corpse, a good reason for not fighting. So, in cold blood riding
on, and yet ashamed that a man should shrink where a horse went bravely,
I cast a bitter blame upon the reckless ways of Winnie.


Nearly all were scattered now. Of the noble countrymen (armed with
scythe or pickaxe, blacksmith's hammer, or fold_pitcher), who had stood
their ground for hours against blazing musketry (from men whom they
could not get at, by reason of the water_dyke), and then against the
deadly cannon, dragged by the Bishop's horses to slaughter his own
sheep; of these sturdy Englishmen, noble in their want of sense, scarce
one out of four remained for the cowards to shoot down. 'Cross the
rhaine,' they shouted out, 'cross the rhaine, and coom within rache:'
but the other mongrel Britons, with a mongrel at their head, found it
pleasanter to shoot men who could not shoot in answer, than to meet the
chance of mischief from strong arms, and stronger hearts.


The last scene of this piteous play was acting, just as I rode up. Broad
daylight, and upstanding sun, winnowing fog from the eastern hills,
and spreading the moors with freshness; all along the dykes they shone,
glistened on the willow_trunks, and touched the banks with a hoary gray.
But alas! those banks were touched more deeply with a gory red, and
strewn with fallen trunks, more woeful than the wreck of trees; while
howling, cursing, yelling, and the loathsome reek of carnage, drowned
the scent of the new_mown hay, and the carol of the lark.


Then the cavalry of the King, with their horses at full speed, dashed
from either side upon the helpless mob of countrymen. A few pikes
feebly levelled met them; but they shot the pikemen, drew swords, and
helter_skelter leaped into the shattered and scattering mass. Right and
left they hacked and hewed; I could hear the snapping of scythes beneath
them, and see the flash of their sweeping swords. How it must end was
plain enough, even to one like myself, who had never beheld such a
battle before. But Winnie led me away to the left; and as I could
not help the people, neither stop the slaughter, but found the
cannon_bullets coming very rudely nigh me, I was only too glad to follow
her.






Lorna Doone by R. D. Blackmore Deluxe Edition Chapter 65


FALLING AMONG LAMBS


That faithful creature, whom I began to admire as if she were my own
(which is no little thing for a man to say of another man's horse),
stopped in front of a low black shed, such as we call a 'linhay.' And
here she uttered a little greeting, in a subdued and softened voice,
hoping to obtain an answer, such as her master was wont to give in a
cheery manner. Receiving no reply, she entered; and I (who could scarce
keep up with her, poor Kickums being weary) leaped from his back, and
followed. There I found her sniffing gently, but with great emotion, at
the body of Tom Faggus. A corpse poor Tom appeared to be, if ever
there was one in this world; and I turned away, and felt unable to keep
altogether from weeping. But the mare either could not understand, or
else would not believe it. She reached her long neck forth, and felt him
with her under lip, passing it over his skin as softly as a mother would
do to an infant; and then she looked up at me again; as much as to say,
'he is all right.'


Upon this I took courage, and handled poor Tom, which being young I had
feared at first to do. He groaned very feebly, as I raised him up; and
there was the wound, a great savage one (whether from pike_thrust or
musket_ball), gaping and welling in his right side, from which a piece
seemed to be torn away. I bound it up with some of my linen, so far as I
knew how; just to stanch the flow of blood, until we could get a doctor.
Then I gave him a little weak brandy and water, which he drank with the
greatest eagerness, and made sign to me for more of it. But not knowing
how far it was right to give cordial under the circumstances, I handed
him unmixed water that time; thinking that he was too far gone to
perceive the difference. But herein I wrong Tom Faggus; for he shook his
head and frowned at me. Even at the door of death, he would not drink
what Adam drank, by whom came death into the world. So I gave him a
little more eau_de_vie, and he took it most submissively.


After that he seemed better, and a little colour came into his cheeks;
and he looked at Winnie and knew her; and would have her nose in his
clammy hand, though I thought it not good for either of them. With the
stay of my arm he sat upright, and faintly looked about him; as if at
the end of a violent dream, too much for his power of mind. Then he
managed to whisper, 'Is Winnie hurt?'


'As sound as a roach,' I answered. 'Then so am I,' said he: 'put me upon
her back, John; she and I die together.'


Surprised as I was at this fatalism (for so it appeared to me), of which
he had often shown symptoms before (but I took them for mere levity),
now I knew not what to do; for it seemed to me a murderous thing to set
such a man on horseback; where he must surely bleed to death, even if he
could keep the saddle. But he told me, with many breaks and pauses,
that unless I obeyed his orders, he would tear off all my bandages, and
accept no further aid from me.


While I was yet hesitating, a storm of horse at full gallop went by,
tearing, swearing, bearing away all the country before them. Only a
little pollard hedge kept us from their blood_shot eyes. 'Now is the
time,' said my cousin Tom, so far as I could make out his words; on
their heels, I am safe, John, if I have only Winnie under me. Winnie and
I die together.'


Seeing this strong bent of his mind, stronger than any pains of death,
I even did what his feeble eyes sometimes implored, and sometimes
commanded. With a strong sash, from his own hot neck, bound and twisted,
tight as wax, around his damaged waist, I set him upon Winnie's back,
and placed his trembling feet in stirrups, with a band from one to
another, under the good mare's body; so that no swerve could throw him
out: and then I said, 'Lean forward, Tom; it will stop your hurt from
bleeding.' He leaned almost on the neck of the mare, which, as I knew,
must close the wound; and the light of his eyes was quite different,
and the pain of his forehead unstrung itself, as if he felt the undulous
readiness of her volatile paces under him.


'God bless you, John; I am safe,' he whispered, fearing to open his
lungs much: 'who can come near my Winnie mare? A mile of her gallop
is ten years of life. Look out for yourself, John Ridd.' He sucked his
lips, and the mare went off, as easy and swift as a swallow.


'Well,' thought I, as I looked at Kickums, ignobly cropping up a bit
of grass, 'I have done a very good thing, no doubt, and ought to be
thankful to God for the chance. But as for getting away unharmed, with
all these scoundrels about me, and only a foundered horse to trust
in__good and spiteful as he is__upon the whole, I begin to think that I
have made a fool of myself, according to my habit. No wonder Tom said,
"Look out for yourself!" I shall look out from a prison window, or
perhaps even out of a halter. And then, what will Lorna think of me?'


Being in this wistful mood, I resolved to abide awhile, even where fate
had thrown me; for my horse required good rest no doubt, and was taking
it even while he cropped, with his hind legs far away stretched out, and
his forelegs gathered under him, and his muzzle on the mole_hills; so
that he had five supportings from his mother earth. Moreover, the linhay
itself was full of very ancient cow dung; than which there is no balmier
and more maiden soporific. Hence I resolved, upon the whole, though
grieving about breakfast, to light a pipe, and go to sleep; or at least
until the hot sun should arouse the flies.


I may have slept three hours, or four, or it might be even five__for I
never counted time, while sleeping__when a shaking more rude than the
old landlady's, brought me back to the world again. I looked up, with a
mighty yawn; and saw twenty, or so, of foot_soldiers.


'This linhay is not yours,' I said, when they had quite aroused me, with
tongue, and hand, and even sword_prick: 'what business have you here,
good fellows?'


'Business bad for you,' said one, 'and will lead you to the gallows.'


'Do you wish to know the way out again?' I asked, very quietly, as being
no braggadocio.


'We will show thee the way out,' said one, 'and the way out of the
world,' said another: 'but not the way to heaven,' said one chap, most
unlikely to know it: and thereupon they all fell wagging, like a bed of
clover leaves in the morning, at their own choice humour.


'Will you pile your arms outside,' I said, 'and try a bit of fair play
with me?'


For I disliked these men sincerely, and was fain to teach them a lesson;
they were so unchristian in appearance, having faces of a coffee colour,
and dirty beards half over them. Moreover their dress was outrageous,
and their address still worse. However, I had wiser let them alone, as
will appear afterwards. These savage_looking fellows laughed at the idea
of my having any chance against some twenty of them: but I knew that
the place was in my favour; for my part of it had been fenced off (for
weaning a calf most likely), so that only two could come at me at once;
and I must be very much out of training, if I could not manage two of
them. Therefore I laid aside my carbine, and the two horse_pistols; and
they with many coarse jokes at me went a little way outside, and
set their weapons against the wall, and turned up their coat sleeves
jauntily; and then began to hesitate.


'Go you first, Bob,' I heard them say: 'you are the biggest man of us;
and Dick the wrestler along of you. Us will back you up, boy.'


'I'll warrant I'll draw the badger,' said Bob; 'and not a tooth will I
leave him. But mind, for the honour of Kirke's lambs, every man stands
me a glass of gin.' Then he, and another man, made a rush, and the
others came double_quick_march on their heels. But as Bob ran at me most
stupidly, not even knowing how to place his hands, I caught him with my
knuckles at the back of his neck, and with all the sway of my right arm
sent him over the heads of his comrades. Meanwhile Dick the wrestler had
grappled me, expecting to show off his art, of which indeed he had some
small knowledge; but being quite of the light_weights, in a second he
was flying after his companion Bob.


Now these two men were hurt so badly, the light one having knocked his
head against the lintel of the outer gate, that the rest had no desire
to encounter the like misfortune. So they hung back whispering; and
before they had made up their minds, I rushed into the midst of them.
The suddenness and the weight of my onset took them wholly by surprise;
and for once in their lives, perhaps, Kirke's lambs were worthy of their
name. Like a flock of sheep at a dog's attack they fell away, hustling
one another, and my only difficulty was not to tumble over them.


I had taken my carbine out with me, having a fondness for it; but the
two horse_pistols I left behind; and therefore felt good title to take
two from the magazine of the lambs. And with these, and my carbine, I
leaped upon Kickums, who was now quite glad of a gallop again; and I
bade adieu to that mongrel lot; yet they had the meanness to shoot at
me. Thanking God for my deliverance (inasmuch as those men would have
strung me up, from a pollard_ash without trial, as I heard them tell
one another, and saw the tree they had settled upon), I ventured to go
rather fast on my way, with doubt and uneasiness urging me. And now my
way was home again. Nobody could say but what I had done my duty, and
rescued Tom (if he could be rescued) from the mischief into which
his own perverseness and love of change (rather than deep religious
convictions, to which our Annie ascribed his outbreak) had led, or
seemed likely to lead him. And how proud would my mother be; and__ah
well, there was nobody else to be proud of me now.


But while thinking these things, and desiring my breakfast, beyond any
power of describing, and even beyond my remembrance, I fell into another
fold of lambs, from which there was no exit. These, like true crusaders,
met me, swaggering very heartily, and with their barrels of cider set,
like so many cannon, across the road, over against a small hostel.


'We have won the victory, my lord King, and we mean to enjoy it. Down
from thy horse, and have a stoup of cider, thou big rebel.'


'No rebel am I. My name is John Ridd. I belong to the side of the King:
and I want some breakfast.'


These fellows were truly hospitable; that much will I say for them.
Being accustomed to Arab ways, they could toss a grill, or fritter, or
the inner meaning of an egg, into any form they pleased, comely and
very good to eat; and it led me to think of Annie. So I made the rarest
breakfast any man might hope for, after all his troubles; and getting
on with these brown fellows better than could be expected, I craved
permission to light a pipe, if not disagreeable. Hearing this, they
roared at me, with a superior laughter, and asked me, whether or not,
I knew the tobacco_leaf from the chick_weed; and when I was forced to
answer no, not having gone into the subject, but being content with
anything brown, they clapped me on the back and swore they had never
seen any one like me. Upon the whole this pleased me much; for I do
not wish to be taken always as of the common pattern: and so we smoked
admirable tobacco__for they would not have any of mine, though very
courteous concerning it__and I was beginning to understand a little of
what they told me; when up came those confounded lambs, who had shown
more tail than head to me, in the linhay, as I mentioned.


Now these men upset everything. Having been among wrestlers so much as
my duty compelled me to be, and having learned the necessity of the rest
which follows the conflict, and the right of discussion which all people
have to pay their sixpence to enter; and how they obtrude this right,
and their wisdom, upon the man who has laboured, until he forgets all
the work he did, and begins to think that they did it; having some
knowledge of this sort of thing, and the flux of minds swimming in
liquor, I foresaw a brawl, as plainly as if it were Bear Street in
Barnstaple.


And a brawl there was, without any error, except of the men who hit
their friends, and those who defended their enemies. My partners in
breakfast and beer_can swore that I was no prisoner, but the best and
most loyal subject, and the finest_hearted fellow they had ever the luck
to meet with. Whereas the men from the linhay swore that I was a rebel
miscreant; and have me they would, with a rope's_end ready, in spite
of every [violent language] who had got drunk at my expense, and been
misled by my [strong word] lies.


While this fight was going on (and its mere occurrence shows, perhaps,
that my conversation in those days was not entirely despicable__else
why should my new friends fight for me, when I had paid for the ale, and
therefore won the wrong tense of gratitude?) it was in my power at any
moment to take horse and go. And this would have been my wisest plan,
and a very great saving of money; but somehow I felt as if it would be a
mean thing to slip off so. Even while I was hesitating, and the men were
breaking each other's heads, a superior officer rode up, with his sword
drawn, and his face on fire.


'What, my lambs, my lambs!' he cried, smiting with the flat of his
sword; 'is this how you waste my time and my purse, when you ought to be
catching a hundred prisoners, worth ten pounds apiece to me? Who is this
young fellow we have here? Speak up, sirrah; what art thou, and how much
will thy good mother pay for thee?'


'My mother will pay naught for me,' I answered; while the lambs fell
back, and glowered at one another: 'so please your worship, I am no
rebel; but an honest farmer, and well_proved of loyalty.'


'Ha, ha; a farmer art thou? Those fellows always pay the best. Good
farmer, come to yon barren tree; thou shalt make it fruitful.'


Colonel Kirke made a sign to his men, and before I could think of
resistance, stout new ropes were flung around me; and with three men on
either side I was led along very painfully. And now I saw, and repented
deeply of my careless folly, in stopping with those boon_companions,
instead of being far away. But the newness of their manners to me, and
their mode of regarding the world (differing so much from mine own), as
well as the flavour of their tobacco, had made me quite forget my duty
to the farm and to myself. Yet methought they would be tender to me,
after all our speeches: how then was I disappointed, when the men who
had drunk my beer, drew on those grievous ropes, twice as hard as the
men I had been at strife with! Yet this may have been from no ill will;
but simply that having fallen under suspicion of laxity, they were
compelled, in self_defence, now to be over_zealous.


Nevertheless, however pure and godly might be their motives, I beheld
myself in a grievous case, and likely to get the worst of it. For the
face of the Colonel was hard and stern as a block of bogwood oak; and
though the men might pity me and think me unjustly executed, yet they
must obey their orders, or themselves be put to death. Therefore I
addressed myself to the Colonel, in a most ingratiating manner; begging
him not to sully the glory of his victory, and dwelling upon my pure
innocence, and even good service to our lord the King. But Colonel Kirke
only gave command that I should be smitten in the mouth; which office
Bob, whom I had flung so hard out of the linhay, performed with great
zeal and efficiency. But being aware of the coming smack, I thrust
forth a pair of teeth; upon which the knuckles of my good friend made a
melancholy shipwreck.


It is not in my power to tell half the thoughts that moved me, when
we came to the fatal tree, and saw two men hanging there already, as
innocent perhaps as I was, and henceforth entirely harmless. Though
ordered by the Colonel to look steadfastly upon them, I could not bear
to do so; upon which he called me a paltry coward, and promised my
breeches to any man who would spit upon my countenance. This vile
thing Bob, being angered perhaps by the smarting wound of his knuckles,
bravely stepped forward to do for me, trusting no doubt to the rope I
was led with. But, unluckily as it proved for him, my right arm was free
for a moment; and therewith I dealt him such a blow, that he never spake
again. For this thing I have often grieved; but the provocation was very
sore to the pride of a young man; and I trust that God has forgiven me.
At the sound and sight of that bitter stroke, the other men drew back;
and Colonel Kirke, now black in the face with fury and vexation, gave
orders for to shoot me, and cast me into the ditch hard by. The men
raised their pieces, and pointed at me, waiting for the word to fire;
and I, being quite overcome by the hurry of these events, and quite
unprepared to die yet, could only think all upside down about Lorna,
and my mother, and wonder what each would say to it. I spread my hands
before my eyes, not being so brave as some men; and hoping, in some
foolish way, to cover my heart with my elbows. I heard the breath of
all around, as if my skull were a sounding_board; and knew even how the
different men were fingering their triggers. And a cold sweat broke all
over me, as the Colonel, prolonging his enjoyment, began slowly to say,
'Fire.'


But while he was yet dwelling on the 'F,' the hoofs of a horse dashed
out on the road, and horse and horseman flung themselves betwixt me and
the gun muzzles. So narrowly was I saved that one man could not check
his trigger: his musket went off, and the ball struck the horse on the
withers, and scared him exceedingly. He began to lash out with his heels
all around, and the Colonel was glad to keep clear of him; and the men
made excuse to lower their guns, not really wishing to shoot me.


'How now, Captain Stickles?' cried Kirke, the more angry because he had
shown his cowardice; 'dare you, sir, to come betwixt me and my lawful
prisoner?'


'Nay, hearken one moment, Colonel,' replied my old friend Jeremy; and
his damaged voice was the sweetest sound I had heard for many a day;
'for your own sake, hearken.' He looked so full of momentous tidings,
that Colonel Kirke made a sign to his men not to shoot me till further
orders; and then he went aside with Stickles, so that in spite of all my
anxiety I could not catch what passed between them. But I fancied that
the name of the Lord Chief_Justice Jeffreys was spoken more than once,
and with emphasis and deference.


'Then I leave him in your hands, Captain Stickles,' said Kirke at last,
so that all might hear him; and though the news was good for me, the
smile of baffled malice made his dark face look most hideous; 'and I
shall hold you answerable for the custody of this prisoner.'


'Colonel Kirke, I will answer for him,' Master Stickles replied, with a
grave bow, and one hand on his breast: 'John Ridd, you are my prisoner.
Follow me, John Ridd.'


Upon that, those precious lambs flocked away, leaving the rope still
around me; and some were glad, and some were sorry, not to see me
swinging. Being free of my arms again, I touched my hat to Colonel
Kirke, as became his rank and experience; but he did not condescend to
return my short salutation, having espied in the distance a prisoner,
out of whom he might make money.


I wrung the hand of Jeremy Stickles, for his truth and goodness; and
he almost wept (for since his wound he had been a weakened man) as he
answered, 'Turn for turn, John. You saved my life from the Doones; and
by the mercy of God, I have saved you from a far worse company. Let your
sister Annie know it.'






Lorna Doone by R. D. Blackmore Deluxe Edition Chapter 66


SUITABLE DEVOTION


Now Kickums was not like Winnie, any more than a man is like a woman;
and so he had not followed my fortunes, except at his own distance. No
doubt but what he felt a certain interest in me; but his interest was
not devotion; and man might go his way and be hanged, rather than horse
would meet hardship. Therefore, seeing things to be bad, and his master
involved in trouble, what did this horse do but start for the ease and
comfort of Plover's Barrows, and the plentiful ration of oats abiding
in his own manger. For this I do not blame him. It is the manner of
mankind.


But I could not help being very uneasy at the thought of my mother's
discomfort and worry, when she should spy this good horse coming home,
without any master, or rider, and I almost hoped that he might be caught
(although he was worth at least twenty pounds) by some of the King's
troopers, rather than find his way home, and spread distress among
our people. Yet, knowing his nature, I doubted if any could catch, or
catching would keep him.


Jeremy Stickles assured me, as we took the road to Bridgwater, that the
only chance for my life (if I still refused to fly) was to obtain
an order forthwith, for my despatch to London, as a suspected person
indeed, but not found in open rebellion, and believed to be under the
patronage of the great Lord Jeffreys. 'For,' said he, 'in a few hours
time you would fall into the hands of Lord Feversham, who has won this
fight, without seeing it, and who has returned to bed again, to have his
breakfast more comfortably. Now he may not be quite so savage perhaps
as Colonel Kirke, nor find so much sport in gibbeting; but he is equally
pitiless, and his price no doubt would be higher.'


'I will pay no price whatever,' I answered, 'neither will I fly. An hour
agone I would have fled for the sake of my mother, and the farm. But
now that I have been taken prisoner, and my name is known, if I fly,
the farm is forfeited; and my mother and sister must starve. Moreover, I
have done no harm; I have borne no weapons against the King, nor desired
the success of his enemies. I like not that the son of a bona_roba
should be King of England; neither do I count the Papists any worse than
we are. If they have aught to try me for, I will stand my trial.'


'Then to London thou must go, my son. There is no such thing as trial
here: we hang the good folk without it, which saves them much anxiety.
But quicken thy step, good John; I have influence with Lord Churchill,
and we must contrive to see him, ere the foreigner falls to work again.
Lord Churchill is a man of sense, and imprisons nothing but his money.'


We were lucky enough to find this nobleman, who has since become so
famous by his foreign victories. He received us with great civility;
and looked at me with much interest, being a tall and fine young
man himself, but not to compare with me in size, although far better
favoured. I liked his face well enough, but thought there was something
false about it. He put me a few keen questions, such as a man not
assured of honesty might have found hard to answer; and he stood in a
very upright attitude, making the most of his figure.


I saw nothing to be proud of, at the moment, in this interview; but
since the great Duke of Marlborough rose to the top of glory, I have
tried to remember more about him than my conscience quite backs up.
How should I know that this man would be foremost of our kingdom in
five_and_twenty years or so; and not knowing, why should I heed
him, except for my own pocket? Nevertheless, I have been so
cross_questioned__far worse than by young Lord Churchill__about His
Grace the Duke of Marlborough, and what he said to me, and what I said
then, and how His Grace replied to that, and whether he smiled like
another man, or screwed up his lips like a button (as our parish tailor
said of him), and whether I knew from the turn of his nose that no
Frenchman could stand before him: all these inquiries have worried me
so, ever since the Battle of Blenheim, that if tailors would only print
upon waistcoats, I would give double price for a vest bearing
this inscription, 'No information can be given about the Duke of
Marlborough.'


Now this good Lord Churchill__for one might call him good, by comparison
with the very bad people around him__granted without any long hesitation
the order for my safe deliverance to the Court of King's Bench at
Westminster; and Stickles, who had to report in London, was empowered to
convey me, and made answerable for producing me. This arrangement would
have been entirely to my liking, although the time of year was bad for
leaving Plover's Barrows so; but no man may quite choose his times,
and on the while I would have been quite content to visit London, if my
mother could be warned that nothing was amiss with me, only a mild, and
as one might say, nominal captivity. And to prevent her anxiety, I did
my best to send a letter through good Sergeant Bloxham, of whom I heard
as quartered with Dumbarton's regiment at Chedzuy. But that regiment was
away in pursuit; and I was forced to entrust my letter to a man who said
that he knew him, and accepted a shilling to see to it.


For fear of any unpleasant change, we set forth at once for London; and
truly thankful may I be that God in His mercy spared me the sight of
the cruel and bloody work with which the whole country reeked and howled
during the next fortnight. I have heard things that set my hair on end,
and made me loathe good meat for days; but I make a point of setting
down only the things which I saw done; and in this particular case, not
many will quarrel with my decision. Enough, therefore, that we rode on
(for Stickles had found me a horse at last) as far as Wells, where we
slept that night; and being joined in the morning by several troopers
and orderlies, we made a slow but safe journey to London, by way of Bath
and Reading.


The sight of London warmed my heart with various emotions, such as a
cordial man must draw from the heart of all humanity. Here there are
quick ways and manners, and the rapid sense of knowledge, and the power
of understanding, ere a word be spoken. Whereas at Oare, you must say a
thing three times, very slowly, before it gets inside the skull of the
good man you are addressing. And yet we are far more clever there than
in any parish for fifteen miles.


But what moved me most, when I saw again the noble oil and tallow of the
London lights, and the dripping torches at almost every corner, and
the handsome signboards, was the thought that here my Lorna lived, and
walked, and took the air, and perhaps thought now and then of the old
days in the good farm_house. Although I would make no approach to her,
any more than she had done to me (upon which grief I have not dwelt, for
fear of seeming selfish), yet there must be some large chance, or the
little chance might be enlarged, of falling in with the maiden somehow,
and learning how her mind was set. If against me, all should be over. I
was not the man to sigh and cry for love, like a Romeo: none should even
guess my grief, except my sister Annie.


But if Lorna loved me still__as in my heart of hearts I hoped__then
would I for no one care, except her own delicious self. Rank and title,
wealth and grandeur, all should go to the winds, before they scared me
from my own true love.


Thinking thus, I went to bed in the centre of London town, and was
bitten so grievously by creatures whose name is 'legion,' mad with the
delight of getting a wholesome farmer among them, that verily I was
ashamed to walk in the courtly parts of the town next day, having lumps
upon my face of the size of a pickling walnut. The landlord said that
this was nothing; and that he expected, in two days at the utmost,
a very fresh young Irishman, for whom they would all forsake me.
Nevertheless, I declined to wait, unless he could find me a hayrick to
sleep in; for the insects of grass only tickle. He assured me that no
hayrick could now be found in London; upon which I was forced to leave
him, and with mutual esteem we parted.


The next night I had better luck, being introduced to a decent widow, of
very high Scotch origin. That house was swept and garnished so, that
not a bit was left to eat, for either man or insect. The change of air
having made me hungry, I wanted something after supper; being quite
ready to pay for it, and showing my purse as a symptom. But the face of
Widow MacAlister, when I proposed to have some more food, was a thing to
be drawn (if it could be drawn further) by our new caricaturist.


Therefore I left her also; for liefer would I be eaten myself than have
nothing to eat; and so I came back to my old furrier; the which was
a thoroughly hearty man, and welcomed me to my room again, with two
shillings added to the rent, in the joy of his heart at seeing me. Being
under parole to Master Stickles, I only went out betwixt certain hours;
because I was accounted as liable to be called upon; for what purpose
I knew not, but hoped it might be a good one. I felt it a loss, and
a hindrance to me, that I was so bound to remain at home during the
session of the courts of law; for thereby the chance of ever beholding
Lorna was very greatly contracted, if not altogether annihilated. For
these were the very hours in which the people of fashion, and the high
world, were wont to appear to the rest of mankind, so as to encourage
them. And of course by this time, the Lady Lorna was high among people
of fashion, and was not likely to be seen out of fashionable hours. It
is true that there were some places of expensive entertainment, at which
the better sort of mankind might be seen and studied, in their hours of
relaxation, by those of the lower order, who could pay sufficiently. But
alas, my money was getting low; and the privilege of seeing my betters
was more and more denied to me, as my cash drew shorter. For a man must
have a good coat at least, and the pockets not wholly empty, before he
can look at those whom God has created for his ensample.


Hence, and from many other causes__part of which was my own pride__it
happened that I abode in London betwixt a month and five weeks' time,
ere ever I saw Lorna. It seemed unfit that I should go, and waylay
her, and spy on her, and say (or mean to say), 'Lo, here is your poor
faithful farmer, a man who is unworthy of you, by means of his common
birth; and yet who dares to crawl across your path, that you may pity
him. For God's sake show a little pity, though you may not feel it.'
Such behaviour might be comely in a love_lorn boy, a page to some grand
princess; but I, John Ridd, would never stoop to the lowering of love
so.


Nevertheless I heard of Lorna, from my worthy furrier, almost every day,
and with a fine exaggeration. This honest man was one of those who in
virtue of their trade, and nicety of behaviour, are admitted into noble
life, to take measurements, and show patterns. And while so doing,
they contrive to acquire what is to the English mind at once the most
important and most interesting of all knowledge,__the science of being
able to talk about the titled people. So my furrier (whose name was
Ramsack), having to make robes for peers, and cloaks for their wives and
otherwise, knew the great folk, sham or real, as well as he knew a fox
or skunk from a wolverine skin.


And when, with some fencing and foils of inquiry, I hinted about Lady
Lorna Dugal, the old man's face became so pleasant that I knew her birth
must be wondrous high. At this my own countenance fell, I suppose,__for
the better she was born, the harder she would be to marry__and mistaking
my object, he took me up:__


'Perhaps you think, Master Ridd, that because her ladyship, Lady Lorna
Dugal, is of Scottish origin, therefore her birth is not as high as of
our English nobility. If you think so you are wrong, sir. She comes
not of the sandy Scotch race, with high cheek_bones, and raw
shoulder_blades, who set up pillars in their courtyards. But she comes
of the very best Scotch blood, descended from the Norsemen. Her mother
was of the very noblest race, the Lords of Lorne; higher even than the
great Argyle, who has lately made a sad mistake, and paid for it most
sadly. And her father was descended from the King Dugal, who fought
against Alexander the Great. No, no, Master Ridd; none of your
promiscuous blood, such as runs in the veins of half our modern
peerage.'


'Why should you trouble yourself about it, Master Ramsack?' I replied:
'let them all go their own ways: and let us all look up to them, whether
they come by hook or crook.'


'Not at all, not at all, my lad. That is not the way to regard it. We
look up at the well_born men, and side_ways at the base_born.'


'Then we are all base_born ourselves. I will look up to no man, except
for what himself has done.'


'Come, Master Ridd, you might be lashed from New_gate to Tyburn and back
again, once a week, for a twelvemonth, if some people heard you. Keep
your tongue more close, young man; or here you lodge no longer; albeit
I love your company, which smells to me of the hayfield. Ah, I have not
seen a hayfield for nine_and_twenty years, John Ridd. The cursed moths
keep me at home, every day of the summer.'


'Spread your furs on the haycocks,' I answered very boldly: 'the indoor
moth cannot abide the presence of the outdoor ones.'


'Is it so?' he answered: 'I never thought of that before. And yet I
have known such strange things happen in the way of fur, that I can
well believe it. If you only knew, John, the way in which they lay their
eggs, and how they work tail_foremost__'


'Tell me nothing of the kind,' I replied, with equal confidence: 'they
cannot work tail_foremost; and they have no tails to work with.' For I
knew a little about grubs, and the ignorance concerning them, which
we have no right to put up with. However, not to go into that (for the
argument lasted a fortnight; and then was only come so far as to begin
again), Master Ramsack soon convinced me of the things I knew already;
the excellence of Lorna's birth, as well as her lofty place at Court,
and beauty, and wealth, and elegance. But all these only made me sigh,
and wish that I were born to them.


From Master Ramsack I discovered that the nobleman to whose charge Lady
Lorna had been committed, by the Court of Chancery, was Earl Brandir
of Lochawe, her poor mother's uncle. For the Countess of Dugal was
daughter, and only child, of the last Lord Lorne, whose sister had
married Sir Ensor Doone; while he himself had married the sister of
Earl Brandir. This nobleman had a country house near the village of
Kensington; and here his niece dwelled with him, when she was not in
attendance on Her Majesty the Queen, who had taken a liking to her.
Now since the King had begun to attend the celebration of mass, in the
chapel at Whitehall__and not at Westminster Abbey, as our gossips had
averred__he had given order that the doors should be thrown open, so
that all who could make interest to get into the antechamber, might see
this form of worship. Master Ramsack told me that Lorna was there almost
every Sunday; their Majesties being most anxious to have the presence
of all the nobility of the Catholic persuasion, so as to make a goodly
show. And the worthy furrier, having influence with the door_keepers,
kindly obtained admittance for me, one Sunday, into the antechamber.


Here I took care to be in waiting, before the Royal procession entered;
but being unknown, and of no high rank, I was not allowed to stand
forward among the better people, but ordered back into a corner very
dark and dismal; the verger remarking, with a grin, that I could see
over all other heads, and must not set my own so high. Being frightened
to find myself among so many people of great rank and gorgeous apparel,
I blushed at the notice drawn upon me by this uncourteous fellow; and
silently fell back into the corner by the hangings.


You may suppose that my heart beat high, when the King and Queen
appeared, and entered, followed by the Duke of Norfolk, bearing the
sword of state, and by several other noblemen, and people of repute.
Then the doors of the chapel were thrown wide open; and though I
could only see a little, being in the corner so, I thought that it was
beautiful. Bowers of rich silk were there, and plenty of metal shining,
and polished wood with lovely carving; flowers too of the noblest kind,
and candles made by somebody who had learned how to clarify tallow. This
last thing amazed me more than all, for our dips never will come clear,
melt the mutton_fat how you will. And methought that this hanging of
flowers about was a pretty thing; for if a man can worship God best of
all beneath a tree, as the natural instinct is, surely when by fault of
climate the tree would be too apt to drip, the very best make_believe is
to have enough and to spare of flowers; which to the dwellers in London
seem to have grown on the tree denied them.


Be that as it may, when the King and Queen crossed the threshold, a
mighty flourish of trumpets arose, and a waving of banners. The Knights
of the Garter (whoever they be) were to attend that day in state;
and some went in, and some stayed out, and it made me think of the
difference betwixt the ewes and the wethers. For the ewes will go
wherever you lead them; but the wethers will not, having strong
opinions, and meaning to abide by them. And one man I noticed was of the
wethers, to wit the Duke of Norfolk; who stopped outside with the sword
of state, like a beadle with a rapping_rod. This has taken more to tell
than the time it happened in. For after all the men were gone, some
to this side, some to that, according to their feelings, a number of
ladies, beautifully dressed, being of the Queen's retinue, began to
enter, and were stared at three times as much as the men had been. And
indeed they were worth looking at (which men never are to my ideas,
when they trick themselves with gewgaws), but none was so well worth
eye_service as my own beloved Lorna. She entered modestly and shyly,
with her eyes upon the ground, knowing the rudeness of the gallants, and
the large sum she was priced at. Her dress was of the purest white, very
sweet and simple, without a line of ornament, for she herself adorned
it. The way she walked, and touched her skirt (rather than seemed to
hold it up) with a white hand beaming one red rose, this and her stately
supple neck, and the flowing of her hair would show, at a distance of a
hundred yards, that she could be none but Lorna Doone. Lorna Doone of
my early love; in the days when she blushed for her name before me
by reason of dishonesty; but now the Lady Lorna Dugal as far beyond
reproach as above my poor affection. All my heart, and all my mind,
gathered themselves upon her. Would she see me, or would she pass? Was
there instinct in our love?


By some strange chance she saw me. Or was it through our destiny? While
with eyes kept sedulously on the marble floor, to shun the weight of
admiration thrust too boldly on them, while with shy quick steps she
passed, some one (perhaps with purpose) trod on the skirt of her clear
white dress,__with the quickness taught her by many a scene of danger,
she looked up, and her eyes met mine.


As I gazed upon her, steadfastly, yearningly, yet with some reproach,
and more of pride than humility, she made me one of the courtly bows
which I do so much detest; yet even that was sweet and graceful, when my
Lorna did it. But the colour of her pure clear cheeks was nearly as
deep as that of my own, when she went on for the religious work. And the
shining of her eyes was owing to an unpaid debt of tears.


Upon the whole I was satisfied. Lorna had seen me, and had not
(according to the phrase of the high world then) even tried to 'cut' me.
Whether this low phrase is born of their own stupid meanness, or whether
it comes of necessity exercised on a man without money, I know not, and
I care not. But one thing I know right well; any man who 'cuts' a man
(except for vice or meanness) should be quartered without quarter.


All these proud thoughts rose within me as the lovely form of Lorna went
inside, and was no more seen. And then I felt how coarse I was; how apt
to think strong thoughts, and so on; without brains to bear me out: even
as a hen's egg, laid without enough of lime, and looking only a poor
jelly.


Nevertheless, I waited on; as my usual manner is. For to be beaten,
while running away, is ten times worse than to face it out, and take
it, and have done with it. So at least I have always found, because of
reproach of conscience: and all the things those clever people carried
on inside, at large, made me long for our Parson Bowden that he might
know how to act.


While I stored up, in my memory, enough to keep our parson going through
six pipes on a Saturday night__to have it as right as could be next
day__a lean man with a yellow beard, too thin for a good Catholic (which
religion always fattens), came up to me, working sideways, in the manner
of a female crab.


'This is not to my liking,' I said: 'if aught thou hast, speak plainly;
while they make that horrible noise inside.'


Nothing had this man to say; but with many sighs, because I was not of
the proper faith, he took my reprobate hand to save me: and with several
religious tears, looked up at me, and winked with one eye. Although the
skin of my palms was thick, I felt a little suggestion there, as of a
gentle leaf in spring, fearing to seem too forward. I paid the man, and
he went happy; for the standard of heretical silver is purer than that
of the Catholics.


Then I lifted up my little billet; and in that dark corner read it, with
a strong rainbow of colours coming from the angled light. And in mine
eyes there was enough to make rainbow of strongest sun, as my anger
clouded off.


Not that it began so well; but that in my heart I knew (ere three lines
were through me) that I was with all heart loved__and beyond that, who
may need? The darling of my life went on, as if I were of her own rank,
or even better than she was; and she dotted her 'i's,' and crossed
her 't's,' as if I were at least a schoolmaster. All of it was done in
pencil; but as plain as plain could be. In my coffin it shall lie, with
my ring and something else. Therefore will I not expose it to every man
who buys this book, and haply thinks that he has bought me to the bottom
of my heart. Enough for men of gentle birth (who never are inquisitive)
that my love told me, in her letter, just to come and see her.


I ran away, and could not stop. To behold even her, at the moment, would
have dashed my fancy's joy. Yet my brain was so amiss, that I must do
something. Therefore to the river Thames, with all speed, I hurried;
and keeping all my best clothes on (indued for sake of Lorna), into the
quiet stream I leaped, and swam as far as London Bridge, and ate nobler
dinner afterwards.






Lorna Doone by R. D. Blackmore Deluxe Edition Chapter 67


LORNA STILL IS LORNA


Although a man may be as simple as the flowers of the field; knowing
when, but scarcely why, he closes to the bitter wind; and feeling why,
but scarcely when, he opens to the genial sun; yet without his questing
much into the capsule of himself__to do which is a misery__he may have a
general notion how he happens to be getting on.


I felt myself to be getting on better than at any time since the last
wheat_harvest, as I took the lane to Kensington upon the Monday evening.
For although no time was given in my Lorna's letter, I was not inclined
to wait more than decency required. And though I went and watched
the house, decency would not allow me to knock on the Sunday evening,
especially when I found at the corner that his lordship was at home.


The lanes and fields between Charing Cross and the village of
Kensington, are, or were at that time, more than reasonably infested
with footpads and with highwaymen. However, my stature and holly club
kept these fellows from doing more than casting sheep's eyes at me.
For it was still broad daylight, and the view of the distant villages,
Chelsea, Battersea, Tyburn, and others, as well as a few large houses,
among the hams and towards the river, made it seem less lonely.
Therefore I sang a song in the broadest Exmoor dialect, which caused no
little amazement in the minds of all who met me.


When I came to Earl Brandir's house, my natural modesty forbade me to
appear at the door for guests; therefore I went to the entrance for
servants and retainers. Here, to my great surprise, who should come
and let me in but little Gwenny Carfax, whose very existence had almost
escaped my recollection. Her mistress, no doubt, had seen me coming, and
sent her to save trouble. But when I offered to kiss Gwenny, in my joy
and comfort to see a farm_house face again, she looked ashamed, and
turned away, and would hardly speak to me.


I followed her to a little room, furnished very daintily; and there she
ordered me to wait, in a most ungracious manner. 'Well,' thought I, 'if
the mistress and the maid are alike in temper, better it had been for
me to abide at Master Ramsack's.' But almost ere my thought was done, I
heard the light quick step which I knew as well as 'Watch,' my dog, knew
mine; and my breast began to tremble, like the trembling of an arch ere
the keystone is put in.


Almost ere I hoped__for fear and hope were so entangled that they
hindered one another__the velvet hangings of the doorway parted, with
a little doubt, and then a good face put on it. Lorna, in her perfect
beauty, stood before the crimson folds, and her dress was all pure
white, and her cheeks were rosy pink, and her lips were scarlet.


Like a maiden, with skill and sense checking violent impulse, she stayed
there for one moment only, just to be admired; and then like a woman,
she came to me, seeing how alarmed I was. The hand she offered me I
took, and raised it to my lips with fear, as a thing too good for me.
'Is that all?' she whispered; and then her eyes gleamed up at me; and in
another instant, she was weeping on my breast.


'Darling Lorna, Lady Lorna,' I cried, in astonishment, yet unable but to
keep her closer to me, and closer; 'surely, though I love you so, this
is not as it should be.'


'Yes, it is, John. Yes, it is. Nothing else should ever be. Oh, why have
you behaved so?'


'I am behaving.' I replied, 'to the very best of my ability. There is no
other man in the world could hold you so, without kissing you.'


'Then why don't you do it, John?' asked Lorna, looking up at me, with a
flash of her old fun.


Now this matter, proverbially, is not for discussion, and repetition.
Enough that we said nothing more than, 'Oh, John, how glad I am!' and
'Lorna, Lorna Lorna!' for about five minutes. Then my darling drew
back proudly, with blushing cheeks, and tear_bright eyes, she began to
cross_examine me.


'Master John Ridd, you shall tell the truth, the whole truth, and
nothing but the truth. I have been in Chancery, sir; and can detect a
story. Now why have you never, for more than a twelvemonth, taken the
smallest notice of your old friend, Mistress Lorna Doone?' Although she
spoke in this lightsome manner, as if it made no difference, I saw that
her quick heart was moving, and the flash of her eyes controlled.


'Simply for this cause, I answered, 'that my old friend and true love,
took not the smallest heed of me. Nor knew I where to find her.'


'What!' cried Lorna; and nothing more; being overcome with wondering;
and much inclined to fall away, but for my assistance. I told her, over
and over again, that not a single syllable of any message from her,
or tidings of her welfare, had reached me, or any one of us, since the
letter she left behind; except by soldier's gossip.


'Oh, you poor dear John!' said Lorna, sighing at thought of my misery:
'how wonderfully good of you, thinking of me as you must have done, not
to marry that little plain thing (or perhaps I should say that lovely
creature, for I have never seen her), Mistress Ruth__I forget her name;
but something like a towel.'


'Ruth Huckaback is a worthy maid,' I answered with some dignity; 'and
she alone of all our world, except indeed poor Annie, has kept her
confidence in you, and told me not to dread your rank, but trust your
heart, Lady Lorna.'


'Then Ruth is my best friend,' she answered, 'and is worthy of you, dear
John. And now remember one thing, dear; if God should part us, as may be
by nothing short of death, try to marry that little Ruth, when you cease
to remember me. And now for the head_traitor. I have often suspected it:
but she looks me in the face, and wishes__fearful things, which I cannot
repeat.'


With these words, she moved an implement such as I had not seen before,
and which made a ringing noise at a serious distance. And before I had
ceased wondering__for if such things go on, we might ring the church
bells, while sitting in our back_kitchen__little Gwenny Carfax came,
with a grave and sullen face.


'Gwenny,' began my Lorna, in a tone of high rank and dignity, 'go and
fetch the letters which I gave you at various times for despatch to
Mistress Ridd.'


'How can I fetch them, when they are gone? It be no use for him to tell
no lies__'


'Now, Gwenny, can you look at me?' I asked, very sternly; for the matter
was no joke to me, after a year's unhappiness.


'I don't want to look at 'ee. What should I look at a young man for,
although he did offer to kiss me?'


I saw the spite and impudence of this last remark, and so did Lorna,
although she could not quite refrain from smiling.


'Now, Gwenny, not to speak of that,' said Lorna, very demurely, 'if you
thought it honest to keep the letters, was it honest to keep the money?'


At this the Cornish maiden broke into a rage of honesty: 'A putt the
money by for 'ee. 'Ee shall have every farden of it.' And so she flung
out of the room.


'And, Gwenny,' said Lorna very softly, following under the
door_hangings; 'if it is not honest to keep the money, it is not honest
to keep the letters, which would have been worth more than any gold to
those who were so kind to you. Your father shall know the whole, Gwenny,
unless you tell the truth.'


'Now, a will tell all the truth,' this strange maiden answered, talking
to herself at least as much as to her mistress, while she went out of
sight and hearing. And then I was so glad at having my own Lorna once
again, cleared of all contempt for us, and true to me through all of it,
that I would have forgiven Gwenny for treason, or even forgery.


'I trusted her so much,' said Lorna, in her old ill_fortuned way; 'and
look how she has deceived me! That is why I love you, John (setting
other things aside), because you never told me falsehood; and you never
could, you know.'


'Well, I am not so sure of that. I think I could tell any lie, to have
you, darling, all my own.'


'Yes. And perhaps it might be right. To other people besides us two. But
you could not do it to me, John. You never could do it to me, you know.'


Before I quite perceived my way to the bottom of the
distinction__although beyond doubt a valid one__Gwenny came back with a
leathern bag, and tossed it upon the table. Not a word did she vouchsafe
to us; but stood there, looking injured.


'Go, and get your letters, John,' said Lorna very gravely; 'or at least
your mother's letters, made of messages to you. As for Gwenny, she shall
go before Lord Justice Jeffreys.' I knew that Lorna meant it not; but
thought that the girl deserved a frightening; as indeed she did. But we
both mistook the courage of this child of Cornwall. She stepped upon a
little round thing, in the nature of a stool, such as I never had seen
before, and thus delivered her sentiments.


'And you may take me, if you please, before the great Lord Jeffreys. I
have done no more than duty, though I did it crookedly, and told a heap
of lies, for your sake. And pretty gratitude I gets.'


'Much gratitude you have shown,' replied Lorna, 'to Master Ridd, for all
his kindness and his goodness to you. Who was it that went down, at the
peril of his life, and brought your father to you, when you had lost him
for months and months? Who was it? Answer me, Gwenny?'


'Girt Jan Ridd,' said the handmaid, very sulkily.


'What made you treat me so, little Gwenny?' I asked, for Lorna would not
ask lest the reply should vex me.


'Because 'ee be'est below her so. Her shanna' have a poor farmering
chap, not even if her were a Carnishman. All her land, and all her
birth__and who be you, I'd like to know?'


'Gwenny, you may go,' said Lorna, reddening with quiet anger; 'and
remember that you come not near me for the next three days. It is the
only way to punish her,' she continued to me, when the maid was gone, in
a storm of sobbing and weeping. 'Now, for the next three days, she will
scarcely touch a morsel of food, and scarcely do a thing but cry. Make
up your mind to one thing, John; if you mean to take me, for better for
worse, you will have to take Gwenny with me.


'I would take you with fifty Gwennies,' said I, 'although every one
of them hated me, which I do not believe this little maid does, in the
bottom of her heart.'


'No one can possibly hate you, John,' she answered very softly; and I
was better pleased with this, than if she had called me the most noble
and glorious man in the kingdom.


After this, we spoke of ourselves and the way people would regard us,
supposing that when Lorna came to be her own free mistress (as she must
do in the course of time) she were to throw her rank aside, and refuse
her title, and caring not a fig for folk who cared less than a fig_stalk
for her, should shape her mind to its native bent, and to my perfect
happiness. It was not my place to say much, lest I should appear to use
an improper and selfish influence. And of course to all men of common
sense, and to everybody of middle age (who must know best what is good
for youth), the thoughts which my Lorna entertained would be enough to
prove her madness.


Not that we could not keep her well, comfortably, and with nice clothes,
and plenty of flowers, and fruit, and landscape, and the knowledge of
our neighbours' affairs, and their kind interest in our own. Still this
would not be as if she were the owner of a county, and a haughty title;
and able to lead the first men of the age, by her mind, and face, and
money.


Therefore was I quite resolved not to have a word to say, while this
young queen of wealth and beauty, and of noblemen's desire, made her
mind up how to act for her purest happiness. But to do her justice, this
was not the first thing she was thinking of: the test of her judgment
was only this, 'How will my love be happiest?'


'Now, John,' she cried; for she was so quick that she always had my
thoughts beforehand; 'why will you be backward, as if you cared not
for me? Do you dream that I am doubting? My mind has been made up, good
John, that you must be my husband, for__well, I will not say how long,
lest you should laugh at my folly. But I believe it was ever since you
came, with your stockings off, and the loaches. Right early for me to
make up my mind; but you know that you made up yours, John; and, of
course, I knew it; and that had a great effect on me. Now, after all
this age of loving, shall a trifle sever us?'


I told her that it was no trifle, but a most important thing, to abandon
wealth, and honour, and the brilliance of high life, and be despised
by every one for such abundant folly. Moreover, that I should appear a
knave for taking advantage of her youth, and boundless generosity, and
ruining (as men would say) a noble maid by my selfishness. And I told
her outright, having worked myself up by my own conversation, that she
was bound to consult her guardian, and that without his knowledge, I
would come no more to see her. Her flash of pride at these last words
made her look like an empress; and I was about to explain myself better,
but she put forth her hand and stopped me.


'I think that condition should rather have proceeded from me. You are
mistaken, Master Ridd, in supposing that I would think of receiving
you in secret. It was a different thing in Glen Doone, where all except
yourself were thieves, and when I was but a simple child, and oppressed
with constant fear. You are quite right in threatening to visit me thus
no more; but I think you might have waited for an invitation, sir.'


'And you are quite right, Lady Lorna, in pointing out my presumption. It
is a fault that must ever be found in any speech of mine to you.'


This I said so humbly, and not with any bitterness__for I knew that I
had gone too far__and made her so polite a bow, that she forgave me in a
moment, and we begged each other's pardon.


'Now, will you allow me just to explain my own view of this matter,
John?' said she, once more my darling. 'It may be a very foolish view,
but I shall never change it. Please not to interrupt me, dear, until you
have heard me to the end. In the first place, it is quite certain that
neither you nor I can be happy without the other. Then what stands
between us? Worldly position, and nothing else. I have no more education
than you have, John Ridd; nay, and not so much. My birth and ancestry
are not one whit more pure than yours, although they may be better
known. Your descent from ancient freeholders, for five_and_twenty
generations of good, honest men, although you bear no coat of arms, is
better than the lineage of nine proud English noblemen out of every ten
I meet with. In manners, though your mighty strength, and hatred of any
meanness, sometimes break out in violence__of which I must try to cure
you, dear__in manners, if kindness, and gentleness, and modesty are
the true things wanted, you are immeasurably above any of our
Court_gallants; who indeed have very little. As for difference of
religion, we allow for one another, neither having been brought up in a
bitterly pious manner.'


Here, though the tears were in my eyes, at the loving things love said
of me, I could not help a little laugh at the notion of any bitter piety
being found among the Doones, or even in mother, for that matter. Lorna
smiled, in her slyest manner, and went on again:__


'Now, you see, I have proved my point; there is nothing between us but
worldly position__if you can defend me against the Doones, for which, I
trow, I may trust you. And worldly position means wealth, and title,
and the right to be in great houses, and the pleasure of being envied.
I have not been here for a year, John, without learning something. Oh,
I hate it; how I hate it! Of all the people I know, there are but two,
besides my uncle, who do not either covet, or detest me. And who are
those two, think you?'


'Gwenny, for one,' I answered.


'Yes, Gwenny, for one. And the queen, for the other. The one is too far
below me (I mean, in her own opinion), and the other too high above.
As for the women who dislike me, without having even heard my voice, I
simply have nothing to do with them. As for the men who covet me, for
my land and money, I merely compare them with you, John Ridd; and all
thought of them is over. Oh, John, you must never forsake me, however
cross I am to you. I thought you would have gone, just now; and though I
would not move to stop you, my heart would have broken.'


'You don't catch me go in a hurry,' I answered very sensibly, 'when the
loveliest maiden in all the world, and the best, and the dearest, loves
me. All my fear of you is gone, darling Lorna, all my fear__'


'Is it possible you could fear me, John, after all we have been through
together? Now you promised not to interrupt me; is this fair behaviour?
Well, let me see where I left off__oh, that my heart would have broken.
Upon that point, I will say no more, lest you should grow conceited,
John; if anything could make you so. But I do assure you that half
London__however, upon that point also I will check my power of speech,
lest you think me conceited. And now to put aside all nonsense; though I
have talked none for a year, John, having been so unhappy; and now it is
such a relief to me__'


'Then talk it for an hour,' said I; 'and let me sit and watch you. To me
it is the very sweetest of all sweetest wisdom.'


'Nay, there is no time,' she answered, glancing at a jewelled timepiece,
scarcely larger than an oyster, which she drew from her waist_band; and
then she pushed it away, in confusion, lest its wealth should startle
me. 'My uncle will come home in less than half an hour, dear: and you
are not the one to take a side_passage, and avoid him. I shall tell him
that you have been here; and that I mean you to come again.'


As Lorna said this, with a manner as confident as need be, I saw that
she had learned in town the power of her beauty, and knew that she could
do with most men aught she set her mind upon. And as she stood there,
flushed with pride and faith in her own loveliness, and radiant with the
love itself, I felt that she must do exactly as she pleased with every
one. For now, in turn, and elegance, and richness, and variety, there
was nothing to compare with her face, unless it were her figure.
Therefore I gave in, and said,__


'Darling, do just what you please. Only make no rogue of me.'


For that she gave me the simplest, kindest, and sweetest of all kisses;
and I went down the great stairs grandly, thinking of nothing else but
that.






Lorna Doone by R. D. Blackmore Deluxe Edition Chapter 68


JOHN IS JOHN NO LONGER


It would be hard for me to tell the state of mind in which I lived for a
long time after this. I put away from me all torment, and the thought of
future cares, and the sight of difficulty; and to myself appeared,
which means that I became the luckiest of lucky fellows, since the world
itself began. I thought not of the harvest even, nor of the men who
would get their wages without having earned them, nor of my mother's
anxiety and worry about John Fry's great fatness (which was growing upon
him), and how she would cry fifty times in a day, 'Ah, if our John would
only come home, how different everything would look!'


Although there were no soldiers now quartered at Plover's Barrows, all
being busied in harassing the country, and hanging the people where the
rebellion had thriven most, my mother, having received from me a message
containing my place of abode, contrived to send me, by the pack_horses,
as fine a maund as need be of provisions, and money, and other comforts.
Therein I found addressed to Colonel Jeremiah Stickles, in Lizzie's best
handwriting, half a side of the dried deer's flesh, in which he rejoiced
so greatly. Also, for Lorna, a fine green goose, with a little salt
towards the tail, and new_laid eggs inside it, as well as a bottle of
brandied cherries, and seven, or it may have been eight pounds of fresh
homemade butter. Moreover, to myself there was a letter full of good
advice, excellently well expressed, and would have been of the greatest
value, if I had cared to read it. But I read all about the farm affairs,
and the man who had offered himself to our Betty for the five pounds
in her stocking; as well as the antics of Sally Snowe, and how she had
almost thrown herself at Parson Bowden's head (old enough to be her
grandfather), because on the Sunday after the hanging of a Countisbury
man, he had preached a beautiful sermon about Christian love; which
Lizzie, with her sharp eyes, found to be the work of good Bishop Ken.
Also I read that the Doones were quiet; the parishes round about having
united to feed them well through the harvest time, so that after the
day's hard work, the farmers might go to bed at night. And this plan had
been found to answer well, and to save much trouble on both sides, so
that everybody wondered it had not been done before. But Lizzie thought
that the Doones could hardly be expected much longer to put up with it,
and probably would not have done so now, but for a little adversity; to
wit, that the famous Colonel Kirke had, in the most outrageous manner,
hanged no less than six of them, who were captured among the rebels;
for he said that men of their rank and breeding, and above all of
their religion, should have known better than to join plough_boys, and
carters, and pickaxemen, against our Lord the King, and his Holiness
the Pope. This hanging of so many Doones caused some indignation among
people who were used to them; and it seemed for a while to check the
rest from any spirit of enterprise.


Moreover, I found from this same letter (which was pinned upon the
knuckle of a leg of mutton, for fear of being lost in straw) that good
Tom Faggus was at home again, and nearly cured of his dreadful wound;
but intended to go to war no more, only to mind his family. And it
grieved him more than anything he ever could have imagined, that his
duty to his family, and the strong power of his conscience, so totally
forbade him to come up and see after me. For now his design was to lead
a new life, and be in charity with all men. Many better men than he had
been hanged, he saw no cause to doubt; but by the grace of God he hoped
himself to cheat the gallows.


There was no further news of moment in this very clever letter, except
that the price of horses' shoes was gone up again, though already
twopence_farthing each; and that Betty had broken her lover's head with
the stocking full of money; and then in the corner it was written that
the distinguished man of war, and worshipful scholar, Master Bloxham,
was now promoted to take the tolls, and catch all the rebels around our
part.


Lorna was greatly pleased with the goose, and the butter, and the
brandied cherries; and the Earl Brandir himself declared that he never
tasted better than those last, and would beg the young man from the
country to procure him instructions for making them. This nobleman,
being as deaf as a post, and of a very solid mind, could never be
brought to understand the nature of my thoughts towards Lorna. He looked
upon me as an excellent youth, who had rescued the maiden from the
Doones, whom he cordially detested; and learning that I had thrown two
of them out of window (as the story was told him), he patted me on the
back, and declared that his doors would ever be open to me, and that I
could not come too often.


I thought this very kind of his lordship, especially as it enabled me to
see my darling Lorna, not indeed as often as I wished, but at any
rate very frequently, and as many times as modesty (ever my leading
principle) would in common conscience approve of. And I made up my mind
that if ever I could help Earl Brandir, it would be__as we say, when
with brandy and water__the 'proudest moment of my life,' when I could
fulfil the pledge.


And I soon was able to help Lord Brandir, as I think, in two different
ways; first of all as regarded his mind, and then as concerned his body:
and the latter perhaps was the greatest service, at his time of life.
But not to be too nice about that; let me tell how these things were.


Lorna said to me one day, being in a state of excitement__whereto she
was over prone, when reft of my slowness to steady her,__


'I will tell him, John; I must tell him, John. It is mean of me to
conceal it.'


I thought that she meant all about our love, which we had endeavoured
thrice to drill into his fine old ears; but could not make him
comprehend, without risk of bringing the house down: and so I said, 'By
all means; darling; have another try at it.'


Lorna, however, looked at me__for her eyes told more than tongue__as
much as to say, 'Well, you are a stupid. We agreed to let that subject
rest.' And then she saw that I was vexed at my own want of quickness;
and so she spoke very kindly,__


'I meant about his poor son, dearest; the son of his old age almost;
whose loss threw him into that dreadful cold__for he went, without hat,
to look for him__which ended in his losing the use of his dear old ears.
I believe if we could only get him to Plover's Barrows for a month, he
would be able to hear again. And look at his age! he is not much over
seventy, John, you know; and I hope that you will be able to hear me,
long after you are seventy, John.'


'Well,' said I, 'God settles that. Or at any rate, He leaves us time
to think about those questions, when we are over fifty. Now let me know
what you want, Lorna. The idea of my being seventy! But you would still
be beautiful.'


'To the one who loves me,' she answered, trying to make wrinkles in her
pure bright forehead: 'but if you will have common sense, as you always
will, John, whether I wish it or otherwise__I want to know whether I am
bound, in honour, and in conscience, to tell my dear and good old uncle
what I know about his son?'


'First let me understand quite clearly,' said I, never being in a hurry,
except when passion moves me, 'what his lordship thinks at present; and
how far his mind is urged with sorrow and anxiety.' This was not the
first time we had spoken of the matter.


'Why, you know, John, well enough,' she answered, wondering at my
coolness, 'that my poor uncle still believes that his one beloved
son will come to light and live again. He has made all arrangements
accordingly: all his property is settled on that supposition. He knows
that young Alan always was what he calls a "feckless ne'er_do_weel;" but
he loves him all the more for that. He cannot believe that he will die,
without his son coming back to him; and he always has a bedroom ready,
and a bottle of Alan's favourite wine cool from out the cellar; he has
made me work him a pair of slippers from the size of a mouldy boot; and
if he hears of a new tobacco__much as he hates the smell of it__he will
go to the other end of London to get some for Alan. Now you know how
deaf he is; but if any one say, "Alan," even in the place outside the
door, he will make his courteous bow to the very highest visitor, and be
out there in a moment, and search the entire passage, and yet let no one
know it.'


'It is a piteous thing,' I said; for Lorna's eyes were full of tears.


'And he means me to marry him. It is the pet scheme of his life. I am
to grow more beautiful, and more highly taught, and graceful; until
it pleases Alan to come back, and demand me. Can you understand this
matter, John? Or do you think my uncle mad?'


'Lorna, I should be mad myself, to call any other man mad, for hoping.'


'Then will you tell me what to do? It makes me very sorrowful. For I
know that Alan Brandir lies below the sod in Doone_valley.'


'And if you tell his father,' I answered softly, but clearly, 'in a few
weeks he will lie below the sod in London; at least if there is any.'


'Perhaps you are right, John,' she replied: 'to lose hope must be a
dreadful thing, when one is turned of seventy. Therefore I will never
tell him.'


The other way in which I managed to help the good Earl Brandir was of
less true moment to him; but as he could not know of the first, this was
the one which moved him. And it happened pretty much as follows__though
I hardly like to tell, because it advanced me to such a height as I
myself was giddy at; and which all my friends resented greatly (save
those of my own family), and even now are sometimes bitter, in spite of
all my humility. Now this is a matter of history, because the King was
concerned in it; and being so strongly misunderstood, (especially in
my own neighbourhood, I will overcome so far as I can) my diffidence in
telling it.


The good Earl Brandir was a man of the noblest charity. True charity
begins at home, and so did his; and was afraid of losing the way, if it
went abroad. So this good nobleman kept his money in a handsome
pewter box, with his coat of arms upon it, and a double lid and locks.
Moreover, there was a heavy chain, fixed to a staple in the wall, so
that none might carry off the pewter with the gold inside of it. Lorna
told me the box was full, for she had seen him go to it, and she often
thought that it would be nice for us to begin the world with. I told
her that she must not allow her mind to dwell upon things of this sort;
being wholly against the last commandment set up in our church at Oare.


Now one evening towards September, when the days were drawing in,
looking back at the house to see whether Lorna were looking after me,
I espied (by a little glimpse, as it were) a pair of villainous fellows
(about whom there could be no mistake) watching from the thicket_corner,
some hundred yards or so behind the good Earl's dwelling. 'There is
mischief afoot,' thought I to myself, being thoroughly conversant with
theft, from my knowledge of the Doones; 'how will be the moon to_night,
and when may we expect the watch?'


I found that neither moon nor watch could be looked for until the
morning; the moon, of course, before the watch, and more likely to be
punctual. Therefore I resolved to wait, and see what those two villains
did, and save (if it were possible) the Earl of Brandir's pewter box.
But inasmuch as those bad men were almost sure to have seen me leaving
the house and looking back, and striking out on the London road, I
marched along at a merry pace, until they could not discern me; and
then I fetched a compass round, and refreshed myself at a certain inn,
entitled The Cross_bones and Buttons.


Here I remained until it was very nearly as dark as pitch; and the house
being full of footpads and cutthroats, I thought it right to leave them.
One or two came after me, in the hope of designing a stratagem; but I
dropped them in the darkness; and knowing all the neighbourhood well, I
took up my position, two hours before midnight, among the shrubs at the
eastern end of Lord Brandir's mansion. Hence, although I might not see,
I could scarcely fail to hear, if any unlawful entrance either at back
or front were made.


From my own observation, I thought it likely that the attack would be
in the rear; and so indeed it came to pass. For when all the lights were
quenched, and all the house was quiet, I heard a low and wily whistle
from a clump of trees close by; and then three figures passed between me
and a whitewashed wall, and came to a window which opened into a part
of the servants' basement. This window was carefully raised by some one
inside the house; and after a little whispering, and something which
sounded like a kiss, all the three men entered.


'Oh, you villains!' I said to myself, 'this is worse than any Doone job;
because there is treachery in it.' But without waiting to consider the
subject from a moral point of view, I crept along the wall, and entered
very quietly after them; being rather uneasy about my life, because I
bore no fire_arms, and had nothing more than my holly staff, for even a
violent combat.


To me this was matter of deep regret, as I followed these vile men
inward. Nevertheless I was resolved that my Lorna should not be robbed
again. Through us (or at least through our Annie) she had lost that
brilliant necklace; which then was her only birthright: therefore it
behoved me doubly, to preserve the pewter box; which must belong to her
in the end, unless the thieves got hold of it.


I went along very delicately (as a man who has learned to wrestle can
do, although he may weigh twenty stone), following carefully the light,
brought by the traitorous maid, and shaking in her loose dishonest hand.
I saw her lead the men into a little place called a pantry; and there
she gave them cordials, and I could hear them boasting.


Not to be too long over it__which they were much inclined to be__I
followed them from this drinking_bout, by the aid of the light they
bore, as far as Earl Brandir's bedroom, which I knew, because Lorna had
shown it to me that I might admire the tapestry. But I had said that no
horse could ever be shod as the horses were shod therein, unless he had
the foot of a frog, as well as a frog to his foot. And Lorna had been
vexed at this (as taste and high art always are, at any small accurate
knowledge), and so she had brought me out again, before I had time to
admire things.


Now, keeping well away in the dark, yet nearer than was necessary to my
own dear Lorna's room, I saw these fellows try the door of the good Earl
Brandir, knowing from the maid, of course, that his lordship could hear
nothing, except the name of Alan. They tried the lock, and pushed at it,
and even set their knees upright; but a Scottish nobleman may be trusted
to secure his door at night. So they were forced to break it open; and
at this the guilty maid, or woman, ran away. These three rogues__for
rogues they were, and no charity may deny it__burst into Earl Brandir's
room, with a light, and a crowbar, and fire_arms. I thought to myself
that this was hard upon an honest nobleman; and if further mischief
could be saved, I would try to save it.


When I came to the door of the room, being myself in shadow, I beheld
two bad men trying vainly to break open the pewter box, and the third
with a pistol_muzzle laid to the night_cap of his lordship. With foul
face and yet fouler words, this man was demanding the key of the box,
which the other men could by no means open, neither drag it from the
chain.


'I tell you,' said this aged Earl, beginning to understand at last what
these rogues were up for; 'I will give no key to you. It all belongs to
my boy, Alan. No one else shall have a farthing.'


'Then you may count your moments, lord. The key is in your old cramped
hand. One, two, and at three, I shoot you.'


I saw that the old man was abroad; not with fear, but with great wonder,
and the regrets of deafness. And I saw that rather would he be shot
than let these men go rob his son, buried now, or laid to bleach in the
tangles of the wood, three, or it might be four years agone, but still
alive to his father. Hereupon my heart was moved; and I resolved to
interfere. The thief with the pistol began to count, as I crossed the
floor very quietly, while the old Earl fearfully gazed at the muzzle,
but clenched still tighter his wrinkled hand. The villain, with hair all
over his eyes, and the great horse_pistol levelled, cried 'three,' and
pulled the trigger; but luckily, at that very moment, I struck up the
barrel with my staff, so that the shot pierced the tester, and then
with a spin and a thwack I brought the good holly down upon the rascal's
head, in a manner which stretched him upon the floor.


Meanwhile the other two robbers had taken the alarm, and rushed at me,
one with a pistol and one with a hanger; which forced me to be very
lively. Fearing the pistol most, I flung the heavy velvet curtain of the
bed across, that he might not see where to aim at me, and then stooping
very quickly I caught up the senseless robber, and set him up for a
shield and target; whereupon he was shot immediately, without having the
pain of knowing it; and a happy thing it was for him. Now the other two
were at my mercy, being men below the average strength; and no hanger,
except in most skilful hands, as well as firm and strong ones, has
any chance to a powerful man armed with a stout cudgel, and thoroughly
practised in single_stick.


So I took these two rogues, and bound them together; and leaving them
under charge of the butler (a worthy and shrewd Scotchman), I myself
went in search of the constables, whom, after some few hours, I found;
neither were they so drunk but what they could take roped men to prison.
In the morning, these two men were brought before the Justices of the
Peace: and now my wonderful luck appeared; for the merit of having
defeated, and caught them, would never have raised me one step in the
State, or in public consideration, if they had only been common robbers,
or even notorious murderers. But when these fellows were recognised,
by some one in the court, as Protestant witnesses out of employment,
companions and understrappers to Oates, and Bedloe, and Carstairs, and
hand in glove with Dangerfield, Turberville; and Dugdale__in a word, the
very men against whom His Majesty the King bore the bitterest rancour,
but whom he had hitherto failed to catch__when this was laid before the
public (with emphasis and admiration), at least a dozen men came
up, whom I had never seen before, and prayed me to accept their
congratulations, and to be sure to remember them; for all were of
neglected merit, and required no more than a piece of luck.


I answered them very modestly, and each according to his worth, as
stated by himself, who of course could judge the best. The magistrate
made me many compliments, ten times more than I deserved, and took good
care to have them copied, that His Majesty might see them. And ere the
case was thoroughly heard, and those poor fellows were committed, more
than a score of generous men had offered to lend me a hundred pounds,
wherewith to buy a new Court suit, when called before His Majesty.


Now this may seem very strange to us who live in a better and purer
age__or say at least that we do so__and yet who are we to condemn our
fathers for teaching us better manners, and at their own expense? With
these points any virtuous man is bound to deal quite tenderly, making
allowance for corruption, and not being too sure of himself. And to tell
the truth, although I had seen so little of the world as yet, that which
astonished me in the matter, was not so much that they paid me court, as
that they found out so soon the expediency of doing it.


In the course of that same afternoon I was sent for by His Majesty. He
had summoned first the good Earl Brandir, and received the tale from
him, not without exaggeration, although my lord was a Scotchman. But
the chief thing His Majesty cared to know was that, beyond all possible
doubt, these were the very precious fellows from perjury turned to
robbery.


Being fully assured at last of this, His Majesty had rubbed his hands,
and ordered the boots of a stricter pattern (which he himself had
invented) to be brought at once, that he might have them in the best
possible order. And he oiled them himself, and expressed his fear that
there was no man in London quite competent to work them. Nevertheless
he would try one or two, rather than wait for his pleasure, till the
torturer came from Edinburgh.


The next thing he did was to send for me; and in great alarm and flurry
I put on my best clothes, and hired a fashionable hairdresser, and drank
half a gallon of ale, because both my hands were shaking. Then forth I
set, with my holly staff, wishing myself well out of it. I was shown at
once, and before I desired it, into His Majesty's presence, and there I
stood most humbly, and made the best bow I could think of.


As I could not advance any farther__for I saw that the Queen was
present, which frightened me tenfold__His Majesty, in the most gracious
manner, came down the room to encourage me. And as I remained with my
head bent down, he told me to stand up, and look at him.


'I have seen thee before, young man, he said; 'thy form is not one to be
forgotten. Where was it? Thou art most likely to know.'


'May it please Your Most Gracious Majesty the King,' I answered, finding
my voice in a manner which surprised myself; 'it was in the Royal
Chapel.'


Now I meant no harm whatever by this. I ought to have said the
'Ante_chapel,' but I could not remember the word, and feared to keep the
King looking at me.


'I am well_pleased,' said His Majesty, with a smile which almost made
his dark and stubborn face look pleasant, 'to find that our greatest
subject, greatest I mean in the bodily form, is also a good Catholic.
Thou needest not say otherwise. The time shall be, and that right soon,
when men shall be proud of the one true faith.' Here he stopped, having
gone rather far! but the gleam of his heavy eyes was such that I durst
not contradict.


'This is that great Johann Reed,' said Her Majesty, coming forward,
because the King was in meditation; 'for whom I have so much heard, from
the dear, dear Lorna. Ah, she is not of this black countree, she is of
the breet Italie.'


I have tried to write it, as she said it: but it wants a better scholar
to express her mode of speech.


'Now, John Ridd,' said the King, recovering from his thoughts about the
true Church, and thinking that his wife was not to take the lead upon
me; 'thou hast done great service to the realm, and to religion. It was
good to save Earl Brandir, a loyal and Catholic nobleman; but it was
great service to catch two of the vilest bloodhounds ever laid on by
heretics. And to make them shoot one another: it was rare; it was rare,
my lad. Now ask us anything in reason; thou canst carry any honours, on
thy club, like Hercules. What is thy chief ambition, lad?'


'Well,' said I, after thinking a little, and meaning to make the most
of it, for so the Queen's eyes conveyed to me; 'my mother always used to
think that having been schooled at Tiverton, with thirty marks a year to
pay, I was worthy of a coat of arms. And that is what she longs for.'


'A good lad! A very good lad,' said the King, and he looked at the
Queen, as if almost in joke; 'but what is thy condition in life?'


'I am a freeholder,' I answered, in my confusion, 'ever since the time
of King Alfred. A Ridd was with him in the isle of Athelney, and we hold
our farm by gift from him; or at least people say so. We have had three
very good harvests running, and might support a coat of arms; but for
myself I want it not.'


'Thou shalt have a coat, my lad,' said the King, smiling at his own
humour; 'but it must be a large one to fit thee. And more than that
shalt thou have, John Ridd, being of such loyal breed, and having done
such service.'


And while I wondered what he meant, he called to some of the people in
waiting at the farther end of the room, and they brought him a little
sword, such as Annie would skewer a turkey with. Then he signified to me
to kneel, which I did (after dusting the board, for the sake of my
best breeches), and then he gave me a little tap very nicely upon my
shoulder, before I knew what he was up to; and said, 'Arise, Sir John
Ridd!'


This astonished and amazed me to such extent of loss of mind, that when
I got up I looked about, and thought what the Snowes would think of it.
And I said to the King, without forms of speech,__


'Sir, I am very much obliged. But what be I to do with it?'






Lorna Doone by R. D. Blackmore Deluxe Edition Chapter 69


NOT TO BE PUT UP WITH


The coat of arms, devised for me by the Royal heralds, was of great
size, and rich colours, and full of bright imaginings. They did me the
honour to consult me first, and to take no notice of my advice. For I
begged that there might be a good_sized cow on it, so as to stamp our
pats of butter before they went to market: also a horse on the other
side, and a flock snowed up at the bottom. But the gentlemen would not
hear of this; and to find something more appropriate, they inquired
strictly into the annals of our family. I told them, of course, all
about King Alfred; upon which they settled that one quarter should be,
three cakes on a bar, with a lion regardant, done upon a field of gold.
Also I told them that very likely there had been a Ridd in the battle
fought, not very far from Plover's Barrows, by the Earl of Devon against
the Danes, when Hubba their chief was killed, and the sacred standard
taken. As some of the Danes are said to be buried, even upon land
of ours, and we call their graves (if such they be) even to this day
'barrows,' the heralds quite agreed with me that a Ridd might have been
there, or thereabouts; and if he was there, he was almost certain to
have done his best, being in sight of hearth and home; and it was plain
that he must have had good legs to be at the same time both there and in
Athelney; and good legs are an argument for good arms; and supposing
a man of this sort to have done his utmost (as the manner of the Ridds
is), it was next to certain that he himself must have captured the
standard. Moreover, the name of our farm was pure proof; a plover being
a wild bird, just the same as a raven is. Upon this chain of reasoning,
and without any weak misgivings, they charged my growing escutcheon with
a black raven on a ground of red. And the next thing which I mentioned
possessing absolute certainty, to wit, that a pig with two heads had
been born upon our farm, not more than two hundred years agone (although
he died within a week), my third quarter was made at once, by a
two_headed boar with noble tusks, sable upon silver. All this was very
fierce and fine; and so I pressed for a peaceful corner in the lower
dexter, and obtained a wheat_sheaf set upright, gold upon a field of
green.


Here I was inclined to pause, and admire the effect; for even De
Whichehalse could not show a bearing so magnificent. But the heralds
said that it looked a mere sign_board, without a good motto under it;
and the motto must have my name in it. They offered me first, 'Ridd
non ridendus'; but I said, 'for God's sake, gentlemen, let me forget my
Latin.' Then they proposed, 'Ridd readeth riddles': but I begged them
not to set down such a lie; for no Ridd ever had made, or made out, such
a thing as a riddle, since Exmoor itself began. Thirdly, they gave me,
'Ridd never be ridden,' and fearing to make any further objections, I
let them inscribe it in bronze upon blue. The heralds thought that the
King would pay for this noble achievement; but His Majesty, although
graciously pleased with their ingenuity, declined in the most decided
manner to pay a farthing towards it; and as I had now no money left, the
heralds became as blue as azure, and as red as gules; until Her Majesty
the Queen came forward very kindly, and said that if His Majesty gave
me a coat of arms, I was not to pay for it; therefore she herself did so
quite handsomely, and felt goodwill towards me in consequence.


Now being in a hurry__so far at least as it is in my nature to hurry__to
get to the end of this narrative, is it likely that I would have dwelled
so long upon my coat of arms, but for some good reason? And this good
reason is that Lorna took the greatest pride in it, and thought (or at
any rate said) that it quite threw into the shade, and eclipsed, all her
own ancient glories. And half in fun, and half in earnest, she called
me 'Sir John' so continually, that at last I was almost angry with
her; until her eyes were bedewed with tears; and then I was angry with
myself.


Beginning to be short of money, and growing anxious about the farm,
longing also to show myself and my noble escutcheon to mother, I
took advantage of Lady Lorna's interest with the Queen, to obtain my
acquittance and full discharge from even nominal custody. It had been
intended to keep me in waiting, until the return of Lord Jeffreys, from
that awful circuit of shambles, through which his name is still used by
mothers to frighten their children into bed. And right glad was
I__for even London shrank with horror at the news__to escape a man
so bloodthirsty, savage, and even to his friends (among whom I was
reckoned) malignant.


Earl Brandir was greatly pleased with me, not only for having saved his
life, but for saving that which he valued more, the wealth laid by for
Lord Alan. And he introduced me to many great people, who quite kindly
encouraged me, and promised to help me in every way when they heard how
the King had spoken. As for the furrier, he could never have enough of
my society; and this worthy man, praying my commendation, demanded of me
one thing only__to speak of him as I found him. As I had found him many
a Sunday, furbishing up old furs for new, with a glaze to conceal the
moths' ravages, I begged him to reconsider the point, and not to demand
such accuracy. He said, 'Well, well; all trades had tricks, especially
the trick of business; and I must take him__if I were his true
friend__according to his own description.' This I was glad enough to do;
because it saved so much trouble, and I had no money to spend with him.
But still he requested the use of my name; and I begged him to do the
best with it, as I never had kept a banker. And the 'John Ridd cuffs,'
and the 'Sir John mantles,' and the 'Holly_staff capes,' he put into
his window, as the winter was coming on, ay and sold (for everybody was
burning with gossip about me), must have made this good man's fortune;
since the excess of price over value is the true test of success in
life.


To come away from all this stuff, which grieves a man in London__when
the brisk air of the autumn cleared its way to Ludgate Hill, and clever
'prentices ran out, and sniffed at it, and fed upon it (having little
else to eat); and when the horses from the country were a goodly sight
to see, with the rasp of winter bristles rising through and among the
soft summer_coat; and when the new straw began to come in, golden
with the harvest gloss, and smelling most divinely at those strange
livery_stables, where the nags are put quite tail to tail; and when
all the London folk themselves are asking about white frost (from
recollections of childhood); then, I say, such a yearning seized me for
moory crag, and for dewy blade, and even the grunting of our sheep (when
the sun goes down), that nothing but the new wisps of Samson could have
held me in London town.


Lorna was moved with equal longing towards the country and country ways;
and she spoke quite as much of the glistening dew as she did of the
smell of our oven. And here let me mention__although the two are quite
distinct and different__that both the dew and the bread of Exmoor may
be sought, whether high or low, but never found elsewhere. The dew is so
crisp, and pure, and pearly, and in such abundance; and the bread is so
sweet, so kind, and homely, you can eat a loaf, and then another.


Now while I was walking daily in and out great crowds of men (few of
whom had any freedom from the cares of money, and many of whom were
even morbid with a worse pest called 'politics'), I could not be quit of
thinking how we jostle one another. God has made the earth quite large,
with a spread of land large enough for all to live on, without fighting.
Also a mighty spread of water, laying hands on sand and cliff with a
solemn voice in storm_time; and in the gentle weather moving men to
thoughts of equity. This, as well, is full of food; being two_thirds of
the world, and reserved for devouring knowledge; by the time the sons
of men have fed away the dry land. Yet before the land itself has
acknowledged touch of man, upon one in a hundred acres; and before one
mile in ten thousand of the exhaustless ocean has ever felt the plunge
of hook, or combing of the haul_nets; lo, we crawl, in flocks together
upon the hot ground that stings us, even as the black grubs crowd upon
the harried nettle! Surely we are too much given to follow the tracks of
each other.


However, for a moralist, I never set up, and never shall, while common
sense abides with me. Such a man must be very wretched in this pure
dearth of morality; like a fisherman where no fish be; and most of us
have enough to do to attend to our own morals. Enough that I resolved
to go; and as Lorna could not come with me, it was even worse than
stopping. Nearly everybody vowed that I was a great fool indeed, to
neglect so rudely__which was the proper word, they said__the pushing
of my fortunes. But I answered that to push was rude, and I left it to
people who had no room; and thought that my fortune must be heavy, if it
would not move without pushing.


Lorna cried when I came away (which gave me great satisfaction), and she
sent a whole trunkful of things for mother and Annie, and even Lizzie.
And she seemed to think, though she said it not, that I made my own
occasion for going, and might have stayed on till the winter. Whereas
I knew well that my mother would think (and every one on the farm the
same) that here I had been in London, lagging, and taking my pleasure,
and looking at shops, upon pretence of King's business, and leaving the
harvest to reap itself, not to mention the spending of money; while all
the time there was nothing whatever, except my own love of adventure
and sport, to keep me from coming home again. But I knew that my coat
of arms, and title, would turn every bit of this grumbling into fine
admiration.


And so it fell out, to a greater extent than even I desired; for all
the parishes round about united in a sumptuous dinner, at the Mother
Melldrum inn__for now that good lady was dead, and her name and face
set on a sign_post__to which I was invited, so that it was as good as a
summons. And if my health was no better next day, it was not from want
of good wishes, any more than from stint of the liquor.


It is needless to say that the real gentry for a long time treated my
new honours with contempt and ridicule; but gradually as they found that
I was not such a fool as to claim any equality with them, but went about
my farm_work, and threw another man at wrestling, and touched my hat to
the magistrates, just the same as ever; some gentlemen of the highest
blood__of which we think a great deal more than of gold, around our
neighbourhood__actually expressed a desire to make my acquaintance.
And when, in a manner quite straightforward, and wholly free from
bitterness, I thanked them for this (which appeared to me the highest
honour yet offered me), but declined to go into their company because it
would make me uncomfortable, and themselves as well, in a different
way, they did what nearly all Englishmen do, when a thing is right and
sensible. They shook hands with me; and said that they could not deny
but that there was reason in my view of the matter. And although they
themselves must be the losers__which was a handsome thing to say__they
would wait until I was a little older and more aware of my own value.


Now this reminds me how it is that an English gentleman is so far in
front of foreign noblemen and princes. I have seen at times, a little,
both of one and of the other, and making more than due allowance for
the difficulties of language, and the difference of training, upon the
whole, the balance is in favour of our people. And this, because we have
two weights, solid and (even in scale of manners) outweighing all light
complaisance; to wit, the inborn love of justice, and the power of
abiding.


Yet some people may be surprised that men with any love of justice,
whether inborn or otherwise, could continue to abide the arrogance, and
rapacity, and tyranny of the Doones.


For now as the winter passed, the Doones were not keeping themselves at
home, as in honour they were bound to do. Twenty sheep a week, and one
fat ox, and two stout red deer (for wholesome change of diet), as well
as threescore bushels of flour, and two hogsheads and a half of cider,
and a hundredweight of candles, not to mention other things of almost
every variety which they got by insisting upon it__surely these might
have sufficed to keep the people in their place, with no outburst of
wantonness. Nevertheless, it was not so; they had made complaint about
something__too much ewe_mutton, I think it was__and in spite of all the
pledges given, they had ridden forth, and carried away two maidens of
our neighbourhood.


Now these two maidens were known, because they had served the beer at
an ale_house; and many men who had looked at them, over a pint or quart
vessel (especially as they were comely girls), thought that it was very
hard for them to go in that way, and perhaps themselves unwilling. And
their mother (although she had taken some money, which the Doones were
always full of) declared that it was a robbery; and though it increased
for a while the custom, that must soon fall off again. And who would
have her two girls now, clever as they were and good?


Before we had finished meditating upon this loose outrage__for so I
at least would call it, though people accustomed to the law may take a
different view of it__we had news of a thing far worse, which turned the
hearts of our women sick. This I will tell in most careful language, so
as to give offence to none, if skill of words may help it. *


     *The following story is strictly true; and true it is that
     the country_people rose, to a man, at this dastard cruelty,
     and did what the Government failed to do.__Ed.


Mistress Margery Badcock, a healthy and upright young woman, with a
good rich colour, and one of the finest hen_roosts anywhere round our
neighbourhood, was nursing her child about six of the clock, and
looking out for her husband. Now this child was too old to be nursed, as
everybody told her; for he could run, say two yards alone, and perhaps
four or five, by holding to handles. And he had a way of looking round,
and spreading his legs, and laughing, with his brave little body well
fetched up, after a desperate journey to the end of the table, which
his mother said nothing could equal. Nevertheless, he would come to
be nursed, as regular as a clock, almost; and, inasmuch as he was
the first, both father and mother made much of him; for God only knew
whether they could ever compass such another one.


Christopher Badcock was a tenant farmer, in the parish of Martinhoe,
renting some fifty acres of land, with a right of common attached to
them; and at this particular time, being now the month of February,
and fine open weather, he was hard at work ploughing and preparing for
spring corn. Therefore his wife was not surprised although the dusk
was falling, that farmer Christopher should be at work in 'blind man's
holiday,' as we call it.


But she was surprised, nay astonished, when by the light of the kitchen
fire (brightened up for her husband), she saw six or seven great armed
men burst into the room upon her; and she screamed so that the maid in
the back kitchen heard her, but was afraid to come to help. Two of the
strongest and fiercest men at once seized poor young Margery; and though
she fought for her child and home, she was but an infant herself in
their hands. In spite of tears, and shrieks, and struggles, they tore
the babe from the mother's arms, and cast it on the lime ash floor; then
they bore her away to their horses (for by this time she was senseless),
and telling the others to sack the house, rode off with their prize to
the valley. And from the description of one of those two, who carried
off the poor woman, I knew beyond all doubt that it was Carver Doone
himself.


The other Doones being left behind, and grieved perhaps in some
respects, set to with a will to scour the house, and to bring away all
that was good to eat. And being a little vexed herein (for the Badcocks
were not a rich couple) and finding no more than bacon, and eggs, and
cheese, and little items, and nothing to drink but water; in a word,
their taste being offended, they came back, to the kitchen, and stamped;
and there was the baby lying.


By evil luck, this child began to squeal about his mother, having been
petted hitherto, and wont to get all he wanted, by raising his voice but
a little. Now the mark of the floor was upon his head, as the maid (who
had stolen to look at him, when the rough men were swearing upstairs)
gave evidence. And she put a dish_cloth under his head, and kissed him,
and ran away again. Her name was Honour Jose, and she meant what was
right by her master and mistress; but could not help being frightened.
And many women have blamed her, as I think unduly, for her mode of
forsaking baby so. If it had been her own baby, instinct rather than
reason might have had the day with her; but the child being born of her
mistress, she wished him good luck, and left him, as the fierce men came
downstairs. And being alarmed by their power of language (because they
had found no silver), she crept away in a breathless hurry, and afraid
how her breath might come back to her. For oftentime she had hiccoughs.


While this good maid was in the oven, by side of back_kitchen fireplace,
with a faggot of wood drawn over her, and lying so that her own heart
beat worse than if she were baking; the men (as I said before) came
downstairs, and stamped around the baby.


'Rowland, is the bacon good?' one of them asked with an oath or two; 'it
is too bad of Carver to go off with the only prize, and leave us in a
starving cottage; and not enough to eat for two of us. Fetch down the
staves of the rack, my boy. What was farmer to have for supper?'


'Naught but an onion or two, and a loaf and a rasher of rusty bacon.
These poor devils live so badly, they are not worth robbing.'


'No game! Then let us have a game of loriot with the baby! It will
be the best thing that could befall a lusty infant heretic. Ride a
cock_horse to Banbury Cross. Bye, bye, baby Bunting; toss him up, and
let me see if my wrist be steady.'


The cruelty of this man is a thing it makes me sick to speak of; enough
that when the poor baby fell (without attempt at cry or scream, thinking
it part of his usual play, when they tossed him up, to come down again),
the maid in the oven of the back_kitchen, not being any door between,
heard them say as follows,__


     'If any man asketh who killed thee,
     Say 'twas the Doones of Bagworthy.' *


     * Always pronounced 'Badgery.'


Now I think that when we heard this story, and poor Kit Badcock came all
around, in a sort of half_crazy manner, not looking up at any one,
but dropping his eyes, and asking whether we thought he had been
well_treated, and seeming void of regard for life, if this were all the
style of it; then having known him a lusty man, and a fine singer in an
ale_house, and much inclined to lay down the law, as show a high hand
about women, I really think that it moved us more than if he had gone
about ranting, and raving, and vowing revenge upon every one.






Lorna Doone by R. D. Blackmore Deluxe Edition Chapter 70


COMPELLED TO VOLUNTEER


There had been some trouble in our own home during the previous autumn,
while yet I was in London. For certain noted fugitives from the army
of King Monmouth (which he himself had deserted, in a low and currish
manner), having failed to obtain free shipment from the coast near
Watersmouth, had returned into the wilds of Exmoor, trusting to
lurk, and be comforted among the common people. Neither were they
disappointed, for a certain length of time; nor in the end was their
disappointment caused by fault on our part. Major Wade was one of them;
an active and well_meaning man; but prone to fail in courage, upon
lasting trial; although in a moment ready. Squire John Whichehalse (not
the baron) and Parson Powell* caught him (two or three months before my
return) in Farley farmhouse, near Brendon. He had been up at our house
several times; and Lizzie thought a great deal of him. And well I know
that if at that time I had been in the neighbourhood, he should not have
been taken so easily.


     * Not our parson Bowden, nor any more a friend of his. Our
     Parson Bowden never had naught whatever to do with it; and
     never smoked a pipe with Parson Powell after it.__J.R.


John Birch, the farmer who had sheltered him, was so fearful of
punishment, that he hanged himself, in a few days' time, and even before
he was apprehended. But nothing was done to Grace Howe, of Bridgeball,
who had been Wade's greatest comforter; neither was anything done to us;
although Eliza had added greatly to mother's alarm and danger by falling
upon Rector Powell, and most soundly rating him for his meanness,
and his cruelty, and cowardice, as she called it, in setting men
with firearms upon a poor helpless fugitive, and robbing all our
neighbourhood of its fame for hospitality. However, by means of Sergeant
Bloxham, and his good report of us, as well as by virtue of Wade's
confession (which proved of use to the Government) my mother escaped all
penalties.


It is likely enough that good folk will think it hard upon our
neighbourhood to be threatened, and sometimes heavily punished, for
kindness and humanity; and yet to be left to help ourselves against
tyranny, and base rapine. And now at last our gorge was risen, and
our hearts in tumult. We had borne our troubles long, as a wise and
wholesome chastisement; quite content to have some few things of our own
unmeddled with. But what could a man dare to call his own, or what right
could he have to wish for it, while he left his wife and children at the
pleasure of any stranger?


The people came flocking all around me, at the blacksmith's forge, and
the Brendon alehouse; and I could scarce come out of church, but they
got me among the tombstones. They all agreed that I was bound to take
command and management. I bade them go to the magistrates, but they
said they had been too often. Then I told them that I had no wits for
ordering of an armament, although I could find fault enough with the one
which had not succeeded. But they would hearken to none of this.


All they said was 'Try to lead us; and we will try not to run away.'


This seemed to me to be common sense, and good stuff, instead of mere
bragging; moreover, I myself was moved by the bitter wrongs of Margery,
having known her at the Sunday_school, ere ever I went to Tiverton;
and having in those days, serious thoughts of making her my
sweetheart; although she was three years my elder. But now I felt this
difficulty__the Doones had behaved very well to our farm, and to mother,
and all of us, while I was away in London. Therefore, would it not be
shabby, and mean, for me to attack them now?


Yet being pressed still harder and harder, as day by day the excitement
grew (with more and more talking over it), and no one else coming forward
to undertake the business, I agreed at last to this; that if the Doones,
upon fair challenge, would not endeavour to make amends by giving up
Mistress Margery, as well as the man who had slain the babe, then I
would lead the expedition, and do my best to subdue them. All our men
were content with this, being thoroughly well assured from experience,
that the haughty robbers would only shoot any man who durst approach
them with such proposal.


And then arose a difficult question__who was to take the risk of making
overtures so unpleasant? I waited for the rest to offer; and as none was
ready, the burden fell on me, and seemed to be of my own inviting. Hence
I undertook the task, sooner than reason about it; for to give the cause
of everything is worse than to go through with it.


It may have been three of the afternoon, when leaving my witnesses
behind (for they preferred the background) I appeared with our Lizzie's
white handkerchief upon a kidney_bean stick, at the entrance to the
robbers' dwelling. Scarce knowing what might come of it, I had taken the
wise precaution of fastening a Bible over my heart, and another across
my spinal column, in case of having to run away, with rude men shooting
after me. For my mother said that the Word of God would stop a two_inch
bullet, with three ounces of powder behind it. Now I took no weapons,
save those of the Spirit, for fear of being misunderstood. But I could
not bring myself to think that any of honourable birth would take
advantage of an unarmed man coming in guise of peace to them.


And this conclusion of mine held good, at least for a certain length of
time; inasmuch as two decent Doones appeared, and hearing of my purpose,
offered, without violence, to go and fetch the Captain; if I would stop
where I was, and not begin to spy about anything. To this, of course,
I agreed at once; for I wanted no more spying, because I had thorough
knowledge of all ins and outs already. Therefore, I stood waiting
steadily, with one hand in my pocket feeling a sample of corn for
market; and the other against the rock, while I wondered to see it so
brown already.


Those men came back in a little while, with a sharp short message that
Captain Carver would come out and speak to me by_and_by, when his pipe
was finished. Accordingly, I waited long, and we talked about the signs
of bloom for the coming apple season, and the rain that had fallen last
Wednesday night, and the principal dearth of Devonshire, that it will
not grow many cowslips__which we quite agreed to be the prettiest of
spring flowers; and all the time I was wondering how many black and
deadly deeds these two innocent youths had committed, even since last
Christmas.


At length, a heavy and haughty step sounded along the stone roof of the
way; and then the great Carver Doone drew up, and looked at me rather
scornfully. Not with any spoken scorn, nor flash of strong contumely;
but with that air of thinking little, and praying not to be troubled,
which always vexes a man who feels that he ought not to be despised so,
and yet knows not how to help it.


'What is it you want, young man?' he asked, as if he had never seen me
before.


In spite of that strong loathing which I always felt at sight of him,
I commanded my temper moderately, and told him that I was come for his
good, and that of his worshipful company, far more than for my own.
That a general feeling of indignation had arisen among us at the recent
behaviour of certain young men, for which he might not be answerable,
and for which we would not condemn him, without knowing the rights of
the question. But I begged him clearly to understand that a vile and
inhuman wrong had been done, and such as we could not put up with; but
that if he would make what amends he could by restoring the poor woman,
and giving up that odious brute who had slain the harmless infant, we
would take no further motion; and things should go on as usual. As I put
this in the fewest words that would meet my purpose, I was grieved to
see a disdainful smile spread on his sallow countenance. Then he made me
a bow of mock courtesy, and replied as follows,__


'Sir John, your new honours have turned your poor head, as might have
been expected. We are not in the habit of deserting anything that
belongs to us; far less our sacred relatives. The insolence of your
demand well_nigh outdoes the ingratitude. If there be a man upon Exmoor
who has grossly ill_used us, kidnapped our young women, and slain half
a dozen of our young men, you are that outrageous rogue, Sir John. And
after all this, how have we behaved? We have laid no hand upon your
farm, we have not carried off your women, we have even allowed you to
take our Queen, by creeping and crawling treachery; and we have given
you leave of absence to help your cousin the highwayman, and to come
home with a title. And now, how do you requite us? By inflaming the
boorish indignation at a little frolic of our young men; and by
coming with insolent demands, to yield to which would ruin us. Ah, you
ungrateful viper!'


As he turned away in sorrow from me, shaking his head at my badness, I
became so overcome (never having been quite assured, even by people's
praises, about my own goodness); moreover, the light which he threw upon
things differed so greatly from my own, that, in a word__not to be too
long__I feared that I was a villain. And with many bitter pangs__for
I have bad things to repent of__I began at my leisure to ask myself
whether or not this bill of indictment against John Ridd was true. Some
of it I knew to be (however much I condemned myself) altogether out of
reason; for instance, about my going away with Lorna very quietly, over
the snow, and to save my love from being starved away from me. In this
there was no creeping neither crawling treachery; for all was done with
sliding; and yet I was so out of training for being charged by other
people beyond mine own conscience, that Carver Doone's harsh words came
on me, like prickly spinach sown with raking. Therefore I replied, and
said,__


'It is true that I owe you gratitude, sir, for a certain time of
forbearance; and it is to prove my gratitude that I am come here now. I
do not think that my evil deeds can be set against your own; although I
cannot speak flowingly upon my good deeds as you can. I took your Queen
because you starved her, having stolen her long before, and killed her
mother and brother. This is not for me to dwell upon now; any more than
I would say much about your murdering of my father. But how the balance
hangs between us, God knows better than thou or I, thou low miscreant,
Carver Doone.'


I had worked myself up, as I always do, in the manner of heavy men;
growing hot like an ill_washered wheel revolving, though I start with
a cool axle; and I felt ashamed of myself for heat, and ready to ask
pardon. But Carver Doone regarded me with a noble and fearless grandeur.


'I have given thee thy choice, John Ridd,' he said in a lofty manner,
which made me drop away under him; 'I always wish to do my best with the
worst people who come near me. And of all I have ever met with thou art
the very worst, Sir John, and the most dishonest.'


Now after all my labouring to pay every man to a penny, and to allow the
women over, when among the couch_grass (which is a sad thing for their
gowns), to be charged like this, I say, so amazed me that I stood, with
my legs quite open, and ready for an earthquake. And the scornful way
in which he said 'Sir John,' went to my very heart, reminding me of my
littleness. But seeing no use in bandying words, nay, rather the chance
of mischief, I did my best to look calmly at him, and to say with a
quiet voice, 'Farewell, Carver Doone, this time, our day of reckoning is
nigh.'


'Thou fool, it is come,' he cried, leaping aside into the niche of rock
by the doorway; 'Fire!'


Save for the quickness of spring, and readiness, learned in many a
wrestling bout, that knavish trick must have ended me; but scarce was
the word 'fire!' out of his mouth ere I was out of fire, by a single
bound behind the rocky pillar of the opening. In this jump I was so
brisk, at impulse of the love of life (for I saw the muzzles set upon
me from the darkness of the cavern), that the men who had trained their
guns upon me with goodwill and daintiness, could not check their fingers
crooked upon the heavy triggers; and the volley sang with a roar behind
it, down the avenue of crags.


With one thing and another, and most of all the treachery of this
dastard scheme, I was so amazed that I turned and ran, at the very top
of my speed, away from these vile fellows; and luckily for me, they
had not another charge to send after me. And thus by good fortune, I
escaped; but with a bitter heart, and mind at their treacherous usage.


Without any further hesitation; I agreed to take command of the honest
men who were burning to punish, ay and destroy, those outlaws, as now
beyond all bearing. One condition, however, I made, namely, that the
Counsellor should be spared if possible; not because he was less a
villain than any of the others, but that he seemed less violent; and
above all, had been good to Annie. And I found hard work to make them
listen to my wish upon this point; for of all the Doones, Sir Counsellor
had made himself most hated, by his love of law and reason.


We arranged that all our men should come and fall into order with pike
and musket, over against our dung_hill, and we settled early in the day,
that their wives might come and look at them. For most of these men had
good wives; quite different from sweethearts, such as the militia had;
women indeed who could hold to a man, and see to him, and bury him__if
his luck were evil__and perhaps have no one afterwards. And all these
women pressed their rights upon their precious husbands, and brought so
many children with them, and made such a fuss, and hugging, and racing
after little legs, that our farm_yard might be taken for an out_door
school for babies rather than a review ground.


I myself was to and fro among the children continually; for if I love
anything in the world, foremost I love children. They warm, and yet they
cool our hearts, as we think of what we were, and what in young clothes
we hoped to be; and how many things have come across. And to see our
motives moving in the little things that know not what their aim or
object is, must almost or ought at least, to lead us home, and soften
us. For either end of life is home; both source and issue being God.


Nevertheless, I must confess that the children were a plague sometimes.
They never could have enough of me__being a hundred to one, you might
say__but I had more than enough of them; and yet was not contented.
For they had so many ways of talking, and of tugging at my hair, and
of sitting upon my neck (not even two with their legs alike), and they
forced me to jump so vehemently, seeming to court the peril of my coming
down neck and crop with them, and urging me still to go faster, however
fast I might go with them; I assure you that they were sometimes so hard
and tyrannical over me, that I might almost as well have been among the
very Doones themselves.


Nevertheless, the way in which the children made me useful proved also
of some use to me; for their mothers were so pleased by the exertions of
the 'great Gee_gee'__as all the small ones entitled me__that they gave
me unlimited power and authority over their husbands; moreover, they did
their utmost among their relatives round about, to fetch recruits
for our little band. And by such means, several of the yeomanry from
Barnstaple, and from Tiverton, were added to our number; and inasmuch
as these were armed with heavy swords, and short carabines, their
appearance was truly formidable.


Tom Faggus also joined us heartily, being now quite healed of his
wound, except at times when the wind was easterly. He was made second in
command to me; and I would gladly have had him first, as more fertile
in expedients; but he declined such rank on the plea that I knew most
of the seat of war; besides that I might be held in some measure to draw
authority from the King. Also Uncle Ben came over to help us with his
advice and presence, as well as with a band of stout warehousemen, whom
he brought from Dulverton. For he had never forgiven the old outrage put
upon him; and though it had been to his interest to keep quiet during
the last attack, under Commander Stickles__for the sake of his secret
gold mine__yet now he was in a position to give full vent to his
feelings. For he and his partners when fully_assured of the value of
their diggings, had obtained from the Crown a licence to adventure in
search of minerals, by payment of a heavy fine and a yearly royalty.
Therefore they had now no longer any cause for secrecy, neither for
dread of the outlaws; having so added to their force as to be a match
for them. And although Uncle Ben was not the man to keep his miners idle
an hour more than might be helped, he promised that when we had fixed
the moment for an assault on the valley, a score of them should come
to aid us, headed by Simon Carfax, and armed with the guns which they
always kept for the protection of their gold.


Now whether it were Uncle Ben, or whether it were Tom Faggus or even my
own self__for all three of us claimed the sole honour__is more than I
think fair to settle without allowing them a voice. But at any rate, a
clever thing was devised among us; and perhaps it would be the fairest
thing to say that this bright stratagem (worthy of the great Duke
himself) was contributed, little by little, among the entire three of
us, all having pipes, and schnapps_and_water, in the chimney_corner.
However, the world, which always judges according to reputation, vowed
that so fine a stroke of war could only come from a highwayman; and so
Tom Faggus got all the honour, at less perhaps than a third of the cost.


Not to attempt to rob him of it__for robbers, more than any other,
contend for rights of property__let me try to describe this grand
artifice. It was known that the Doones were fond of money, as well as
strong drink, and other things; and more especially fond of gold, when
they could get it pure and fine. Therefore it was agreed that in this
way we should tempt them; for we knew that they looked with ridicule
upon our rustic preparations; after repulsing King's troopers, and the
militia of two counties, was it likely that they should yield their
fortress to a set of ploughboys? We, for our part, felt of course,
the power of this reasoning, and that where regular troops had failed,
half_armed countrymen must fail, except by superior judgment and harmony
of action. Though perhaps the militia would have sufficed, if they had
only fought against the foe, instead of against each other. From these
things we took warning; having failed through over_confidence, was it
not possible now to make the enemy fail through the selfsame cause?


Hence, what we devised was this; to delude from home a part of the
robbers, and fall by surprise on the other part. We caused it to be
spread abroad that a large heap of gold was now collected at the mine
of the Wizard's Slough. And when this rumour must have reached them,
through women who came to and fro, as some entirely faithful to them
were allowed to do, we sent Captain Simon Carfax, the father of little
Gwenny, to demand an interview with the Counsellor, by night, and as it
were secretly. Then he was to set forth a list of imaginary grievances
against the owners of the mine; and to offer partly through resentment,
partly through the hope of gain, to betray into their hands, upon the
Friday night, by far the greatest weight of gold as yet sent up for
refining. He was to have one quarter part, and they to take the residue.
But inasmuch as the convoy across the moors, under his command, would
be strong, and strongly armed, the Doones must be sure to send not less
than a score of men, if possible. He himself, at a place agreed upon,
and fit for an ambuscade, would call a halt, and contrive in the
darkness to pour a little water into the priming of his company's guns.


It cost us some trouble and a great deal of money to bring the sturdy
Cornishman into this deceitful part; and perhaps he never would have
consented but for his obligation to me, and the wrongs (as he said) of
his daughter. However, as he was the man for the task, both from his
coolness and courage, and being known to have charge of the mine, I
pressed him, until he undertook to tell all the lies we required.
And right well he did it too, having once made up his mind to it; and
perceiving that his own interests called for the total destruction of
the robbers.






Lorna Doone by R. D. Blackmore Deluxe Edition Chapter 71


A LONG ACCOUNT SETTLED


Having resolved on a night_assault (as our undisciplined men,
three_fourths of whom had never been shot at, could not fairly be
expected to march up to visible musket_mouths), we cared not much about
drilling our forces, only to teach them to hold a musket, so far as we
could supply that weapon to those with the cleverest eyes; and to give
them familiarity with the noise it made in exploding. And we fixed upon
Friday night for our venture, because the moon would be at the full; and
our powder was coming from Dulverton on the Friday afternoon.


Uncle Reuben did not mean to expose himself to shooting, his time of
life for risk of life being now well over and the residue too valuable.
But his counsels, and his influence, and above all his warehousemen,
well practised in beating carpets, were of true service to us. His
miners also did great wonders, having a grudge against the Doones; as
indeed who had not for thirty miles round their valley?


It was settled that the yeomen, having good horses under them, should
give account (with the miners' help) of as many Doones as might be
despatched to plunder the pretended gold. And as soon as we knew that
this party of robbers, be it more or less, was out of hearing from the
valley, we were to fall to, ostensibly at the Doone_gate (which was
impregnable now), but in reality upon their rear, by means of my old
water_slide. For I had chosen twenty young fellows, partly miners, and
partly warehousemen, and sheep farmers, and some of other vocations, but
all to be relied upon for spirit and power of climbing. And with proper
tools to aid us, and myself to lead the way, I felt no doubt whatever
but that we could all attain the crest where first I had met with Lorna.


Upon the whole, I rejoiced that Lorna was not present now. It must have
been irksome to her feelings to have all her kindred and old associates
(much as she kept aloof from them) put to death without ceremony, or
else putting all of us to death. For all of us were resolved this
time to have no more shilly_shallying; but to go through with a nasty
business, in the style of honest Englishmen, when the question comes to
'Your life or mine.'


There was hardly a man among us who had not suffered bitterly from the
miscreants now before us. One had lost his wife perhaps, another had
lost a daughter__according to their ages, another had lost his favourite
cow; in a word, there was scarcely any one who had not to complain of
a hayrick; and what surprised me then, not now, was that the men least
injured made the greatest push concerning it. But be the wrong too great
to speak of, or too small to swear about, from poor Kit Badcock to rich
Master Huckaback, there was not one but went heart and soul for stamping
out these firebrands.


The moon was lifting well above the shoulder of the uplands, when we,
the chosen band, set forth, having the short cut along the valleys to
foot of the Bagworthy water; and therefore having allowed the rest an
hour, to fetch round the moors and hills; we were not to begin our climb
until we heard a musket fired from the heights on the left_hand side,
where John Fry himself was stationed, upon his own and his wife's
request; so as to keep out of action. And that was the place where I had
been used to sit, and to watch for Lorna. And John Fry was to fire his
gun, with a ball of wool inside it, so soon as he heard the hurly_burly
at the Doone_gate beginning; which we, by reason of waterfall, could not
hear, down in the meadows there.


We waited a very long time, with the moon marching up heaven
steadfastly, and the white fog trembling in chords and columns, like
a silver harp of the meadows. And then the moon drew up the fogs, and
scarfed herself in white with them; and so being proud, gleamed upon the
water, like a bride at her looking_glass; and yet there was no sound of
either John Fry, or his blunderbuss.


I began to think that the worthy John, being out of all danger, and
having brought a counterpane (according to his wife's directions,
because one of the children had a cold), must veritably have gone to
sleep; leaving other people to kill, or be killed, as might be the will
of God; so that he were comfortable. But herein I did wrong to John,
and am ready to acknowledge it; for suddenly the most awful noise that
anything short of thunder could make, came down among the rocks, and
went and hung upon the corners.


'The signal, my lads,' I cried, leaping up and rubbing my eyes; for even
now, while condemning John unjustly, I was giving him right to be hard
upon me. 'Now hold on by the rope, and lay your quarter_staffs across,
my lads; and keep your guns pointing to heaven, lest haply we shoot one
another.'


'Us shan't never shutt one anoother, wi' our goons at that mark, I
reckon,' said an oldish chap, but as tough as leather, and esteemed a
wit for his dryness.


'You come next to me, old Ike; you be enough to dry up the waters; now,
remember, all lean well forward. If any man throws his weight back, down
he goes; and perhaps he may never get up again; and most likely he will
shoot himself.'


I was still more afraid of their shooting me; for my chief alarm in
this steep ascent was neither of the water nor of the rocks, but of
the loaded guns we bore. If any man slipped, off might go his gun, and
however good his meaning, I being first was most likely to take far more
than I fain would apprehend.


For this cause, I had debated with Uncle Ben and with Cousin Tom as to
the expediency of our climbing with guns unloaded. But they, not being
in the way themselves, assured me that there was nothing to fear, except
through uncommon clumsiness; and that as for charging our guns at
the top, even veteran troops could scarcely be trusted to perform it
properly in the hurry, and the darkness, and the noise of fighting
before them.


However, thank God, though a gun went off, no one was any the worse
for it, neither did the Doones notice it, in the thick of the firing in
front of them. For the orders to those of the sham attack, conducted by
Tom Faggus, were to make the greatest possible noise, without exposure
of themselves; until we, in the rear, had fallen to; which John Fry was
again to give the signal of.


Therefore we, of the chosen band, stole up the meadow quietly, keeping
in the blots of shade, and hollow of the watercourse. And the earliest
notice the Counsellor had, or any one else, of our presence, was the
blazing of the log_wood house, where lived that villain Carver. It
was my especial privilege to set this house on fire; upon which I had
insisted, exclusively and conclusively. No other hand but mine
should lay a brand, or strike steel on flint for it; I had made all
preparations carefully for a goodly blaze. And I must confess that I
rubbed my hands, with a strong delight and comfort, when I saw the home
of that man, who had fired so many houses, having its turn of smoke, and
blaze, and of crackling fury.


We took good care, however, to burn no innocent women or children in
that most righteous destruction. For we brought them all out beforehand;
some were glad, and some were sorry; according to their dispositions.
For Carver had ten or a dozen wives; and perhaps that had something to
do with his taking the loss of Lorna so easily. One child I noticed, as
I saved him; a fair and handsome little fellow, whom (if Carver Doone
could love anything on earth beside his wretched self) he did love. The
boy climbed on my back and rode; and much as I hated his father, it was
not in my heart to say or do a thing to vex him.


Leaving these poor injured people to behold their burning home, we drew
aside, by my directions, into the covert beneath the cliff. But not
before we had laid our brands to three other houses, after calling the
women forth, and bidding them go for their husbands, and to come and
fight a hundred of us. In the smoke and rush, and fire, they believed
that we were a hundred; and away they ran, in consternation, to the
battle at the Doone_gate.


'All Doone_town is on fire, on fire!' we heard them shrieking as they
went; 'a hundred soldiers are burning it, with a dreadful great man at
the head of them!'


Presently, just as I expected, back came the warriors of the Doones;
leaving but two or three at the gate, and burning with wrath to crush
under foot the presumptuous clowns in their valley. Just then the waxing
fire leaped above the red crest of the cliffs, and danced on the pillars
of the forest, and lapped like a tide on the stones of the slope. All
the valley flowed with light, and the limpid waters reddened, and the
fair young women shone, and the naked children glistened.


But the finest sight of all was to see those haughty men striding down
the causeway darkly, reckless of their end, but resolute to have two
lives for every one. A finer dozen of young men could not have been
found in the world perhaps, nor a braver, nor a viler one.


Seeing how few there were of them, I was very loath to fire, although I
covered the leader, who appeared to be dashing Charley; for they were at
easy distance now, brightly shone by the fire_light, yet ignorant where
to look for us. I thought that we might take them prisoners__though
what good that could be God knows, as they must have been hanged
thereafter__anyhow I was loath to shoot, or to give the word to my
followers.


But my followers waited for no word; they saw a fair shot at the men
they abhorred, the men who had robbed them of home or of love, and the
chance was too much for their charity. At a signal from old Ikey, who
levelled his own gun first, a dozen muskets were discharged, and half
of the Doones dropped lifeless, like so many logs of firewood, or
chopping_blocks rolled over.


Although I had seen a great battle before, and a hundred times the
carnage, this appeared to me to be horrible; and I was at first inclined
to fall upon our men for behaving so. But one instant showed me that
they were right; for while the valley was filled with howling, and with
shrieks of women, and the beams of the blazing houses fell, and hissed
in the bubbling river; all the rest of the Doones leaped at us, like
so many demons. They fired wildly, not seeing us well among the hazel
bushes; and then they clubbed their muskets, or drew their swords, as
might be; and furiously drove at us.


For a moment, although we were twice their number, we fell back before
their valorous fame, and the power of their onset. For my part, admiring
their courage greatly, and counting it slur upon manliness that two
should be down upon one so, I withheld my hand awhile; for I cared to
meet none but Carver; and he was not among them. The whirl and hurry
of this fight, and the hard blows raining down__for now all guns were
empty__took away my power of seeing, or reasoning upon anything. Yet
one thing I saw, which dwelled long with me; and that was Christopher
Badcock spending his life to get Charley's.


How he had found out, none may tell; both being dead so long ago; but,
at any rate, he had found out that Charley was the man who had robbed
him of his wife and honour. It was Carver Doone who took her away, but
Charleworth Doone was beside him; and, according to cast of dice, she
fell to Charley's share. All this Kit Badcock (who was mad, according
to our measures) had discovered, and treasured up; and now was his
revenge_time.


He had come into the conflict without a weapon of any kind; only begging
me to let him be in the very thick of it. For him, he said, life was no
matter, after the loss of his wife and child; but death was matter to
him, and he meant to make the most of it. Such a face I never saw, and
never hope to see again, as when poor Kit Badcock spied Charley coming
towards us.


We had thought this man a patient fool, a philosopher of a little sort,
or one who could feel nothing. And his quiet manner of going about, and
the gentleness of his answers (when some brutes asked him where his wife
was, and whether his baby had been well_trussed), these had misled us
to think that the man would turn the mild cheek to everything. But I, in
the loneliness of our barn, had listened, and had wept with him.


Therefore was I not surprised, so much as all the rest of us, when, in
the foremost of red light, Kit went up to Charleworth Doone, as if to
some inheritance; and took his seisin of right upon him, being himself a
powerful man; and begged a word aside with him. What they said aside, I
know not; all I know is that without weapon, each man killed the other.
And Margery Badcock came, and wept, and hung upon her poor husband; and
died, that summer, of heart_disease.


Now for these and other things (whereof I could tell a thousand) was the
reckoning come that night; and not a line we missed of it; soon as our
bad blood was up. I like not to tell of slaughter, though it might be
of wolves and tigers; and that was a night of fire and slaughter, and
of very long_harboured revenge. Enough that ere the daylight broke
upon that wan March morning, the only Doones still left alive were the
Counsellor and Carver. And of all the dwellings of the Doones (inhabited
with luxury, and luscious taste, and licentiousness) not even one was
left, but all made potash in the river.


This may seem a violent and unholy revenge upon them. And I (who led
the heart of it) have in these my latter years doubted how I shall
be judged, not of men__for God only knows the errors of man's
judgments__but by that great God Himself, the front of whose forehead is
mercy.






Lorna Doone by R. D. Blackmore Deluxe Edition Chapter 72


THE COUNSELLOR AND THE CARVER


From that great confusion__for nothing can be broken up, whether lawful
or unlawful, without a vast amount of dust, and many people grumbling,
and mourning for the good old times, when all the world was happiness,
and every man a gentleman, and the sun himself far brighter than since
the brassy idol upon which he shone was broken__from all this loss of
ancient landmarks (as unrobbed men began to call our clearance of those
murderers) we returned on the following day, almost as full of anxiety
as we were of triumph. In the first place, what could we possibly do
with all these women and children, thrown on our hands as one might say,
with none to protect and care for them? Again how should we answer to
the justices of the peace, or perhaps even to Lord Jeffreys, for having,
without even a warrant, taken the law into our own hands, and abated
our nuisance so forcibly? And then, what was to be done with the spoil,
which was of great value; though the diamond necklace came not to public
light? For we saw a mighty host of claimants already leaping up for
booty. Every man who had ever been robbed, expected usury on his loss;
the lords of the manors demanded the whole; and so did the King's
Commissioner of revenue at Porlock; and so did the men who had fought
our battle; while even the parsons, both Bowden and Powell, and another
who had no parish in it, threatened us with the just wrath of the
Church, unless each had tithes of the whole of it.


Now this was not as it ought to be; and it seemed as if by burning the
nest of robbers, we had but hatched their eggs; until being made sole
guardian of the captured treasure (by reason of my known honesty) I
hit upon a plan, which gave very little satisfaction; yet carried this
advantage, that the grumblers argued against one another and for the
most part came to blows; which renewed their goodwill to me, as being
abused by the adversary.


And my plan was no more than this__not to pay a farthing to lord of
manor, parson, or even King's Commissioner, but after making good some
of the recent and proven losses__where the men could not afford to
lose__to pay the residue (which might be worth some fifty thousand
pounds) into the Exchequer at Westminster; and then let all the
claimants file what wills they pleased in Chancery.


Now this was a very noble device, for the mere name of Chancery, and the
high repute of the fees therein, and low repute of the lawyers, and the
comfortable knowledge that the woolsack itself is the golden fleece,
absorbing gold for ever, if the standard be but pure; consideration of
these things staved off at once the lords of the manors, and all the
little farmers, and even those whom most I feared; videlicet, the
parsons. And the King's Commissioner was compelled to profess himself
contented, although of all he was most aggrieved; for his pickings would
have been goodly.


Moreover, by this plan I made__although I never thought of that__a
mighty friend worth all the enemies, whom the loss of money moved. The
first man now in the kingdom (by virtue perhaps of energy, rather than
of excellence) was the great Lord Jeffreys, appointed the head of the
Equity, as well as the law of the realm, for his kindness in hanging
five hundred people, without the mere brief of trial. Nine out of ten
of these people were innocent, it was true; but that proved the merit of
the Lord Chief Justice so much the greater for hanging them, as showing
what might be expected of him, when he truly got hold of a guilty man.
Now the King had seen the force of this argument; and not being without
gratitude for a high_seasoned dish of cruelty, had promoted the only man
in England, combining the gifts of both butcher and cook.


Nevertheless, I do beg you all to believe of me__and I think that, after
following me so long, you must believe it__that I did not even know at
the time of Lord Jeffreys's high promotion. Not that my knowledge of
this would have led me to act otherwise in the matter; for my object was
to pay into an office, and not to any official; neither if I had known
the fact, could I have seen its bearing upon the receipt of my money.
For the King's Exchequer is, meseemeth, of the Common Law; while
Chancery is of Equity, and well named for its many chances. But the true
result of the thing was this__Lord Jeffreys being now head of the law,
and almost head of the kingdom, got possession of that money, and was
kindly pleased with it.


And this met our second difficulty; for the law having won and laughed
over the spoil, must have injured its own title by impugning our
legality.


Next, with regard to the women and children, we were long in a state of
perplexity. We did our very best at the farm, and so did many others to
provide for them, until they should manage about their own subsistence.
And after a while this trouble went, as nearly all troubles go with
time. Some of the women were taken back by their parents, or their
husbands, or it may be their sweethearts; and those who failed of this,
went forth, some upon their own account to the New World plantations,
where the fairer sex is valuable; and some to English cities; and the
plainer ones to field work. And most of the children went with their
mothers, or were bound apprentices; only Carver Doone's handsome child
had lost his mother and stayed with me.


This boy went about with me everywhere. He had taken as much of liking
to me__first shown in his eyes by the firelight__as his father had of
hatred; and I, perceiving his noble courage, scorn of lies, and high
spirit, became almost as fond of Ensie as he was of me. He told us that
his name was 'Ensie,' meant for 'Ensor,' I suppose, from his father's
grandfather, the old Sir Ensor Doone. And this boy appeared to be
Carver's heir, having been born in wedlock, contrary to the general
manner and custom of the Doones.


However, although I loved the poor child, I could not help feeling very
uneasy about the escape of his father, the savage and brutal Carver.
This man was left to roam the country, homeless, foodless, and
desperate, with his giant strength, and great skill in arms, and the
whole world to be revenged upon. For his escape the miners, as I shall
show, were answerable; but of the Counsellor's safe departure the burden
lay on myself alone. And inasmuch as there are people who consider
themselves ill_used, unless one tells them everything, straitened though
I am for space, I will glance at this transaction.


After the desperate charge of young Doones had been met by us, and
broken, and just as Poor Kit Badcock died in the arms of the dead
Charley, I happened to descry a patch of white on the grass of the
meadow, like the head of a sheep after washing_day. Observing with
some curiosity how carefully this white thing moved along the bars of
darkness betwixt the panels of firelight, I ran up to intercept it,
before it reached the little postern which we used to call Gwenny's
door. Perceiving me, the white thing stopped, and was for making back
again; but I ran up at full speed; and lo, it was the flowing silvery
hair of that sage the Counsellor, who was scuttling away upon all fours;
but now rose and confronted me.


'John,' he said, 'Sir John, you will not play falsely with your ancient
friend, among these violent fellows, I look to you to protect me, John.'


'Honoured sir, you are right,' I replied; 'but surely that posture was
unworthy of yourself, and your many resources. It is my intention to let
you go free.'


'I knew it. I could have sworn to it. You are a noble fellow, John. I
said so, from the very first; you are a noble fellow, and an ornament to
any rank.'


'But upon two conditions,' I added, gently taking him by the arm; for
instead of displaying any desire to commune with my nobility, he was
edging away toward the postern; 'the first is that you tell me truly
(for now it can matter to none of you) who it was that slew my father.'


'I will tell you truly and frankly, John; however painful to me to
confess it. It was my son, Carver.'


'I thought as much, or I felt as much all along,' I answered; 'but the
fault was none of yours, sir; for you were not even present.'


'If I had been there, it would not have happened. I am always opposed
to violence. Therefore, let me haste away; this scene is against my
nature.'


'You shall go directly, Sir Counsellor, after meeting my other
condition; which is, that you place in my hands Lady Lorna's diamond
necklace.'


'Ah, how often I have wished,' said the old man with a heavy sigh, 'that
it might yet be in my power to ease my mind in that respect, and to do a
thoroughly good deed by lawful restitution.'


'Then try to have it in your power, sir. Surely, with my encouragement,
you might summon resolution.'


'Alas, John, the resolution has been ready long ago. But the thing is
not in my possession. Carver, my son, who slew your father, upon him you
will find the necklace. What are jewels to me, young man, at my time of
life? Baubles and trash,__I detest them, from the sins they have led me
to answer for. When you come to my age, good Sir John, you will scorn
all jewels, and care only for a pure and bright conscience. Ah! ah! Let
me go. I have made my peace with God.'


He looked so hoary, and so silvery, and serene in the moonlight, that
verily I must have believed him, if he had not drawn in his breast. But
I happened to have noticed that when an honest man gives vent to noble
and great sentiments, he spreads his breast, and throws it out, as if
his heart were swelling; whereas I had seen this old gentleman draw in
his breast more than once, as if it happened to contain better goods
than sentiment.


'Will you applaud me, kind sir,' I said, keeping him very tight, all the
while, 'if I place it in your power to ratify your peace with God? The
pledge is upon your heart, no doubt, for there it lies at this moment.'


With these words, and some apology for having recourse to strong
measures, I thrust my hand inside his waistcoat, and drew forth Lorna's
necklace, purely sparkling in the moonlight, like the dancing of new
stars. The old man made a stab at me, with a knife which I had not
espied; but the vicious onset failed; and then he knelt, and clasped his
hands.


'Oh, for God's sake, John, my son, rob me not in that manner. They
belong to me; and I love them so; I would give almost my life for them.
There is one jewel I can look at for hours, and see all the lights of
heaven in it; which I never shall see elsewhere. All my wretched, wicked
life__oh, John, I am a sad hypocrite__but give me back my jewels. Or
else kill me here; I am a babe in your hands; but I must have back my
jewels.'


As his beautiful white hair fell away from his noble forehead, like a
silver wreath of glory, and his powerful face, for once, was moved with
real emotion, I was so amazed and overcome by the grand contradictions
of nature, that verily I was on the point of giving him back the
necklace. But honesty, which is said to be the first instinct of all the
Ridds (though I myself never found it so), happened here to occur to me,
and so I said, without more haste than might be expected,__


'Sir Counsellor, I cannot give you what does not belong to me. But if
you will show me that particular diamond which is heaven to you, I will
take upon myself the risk and the folly of cutting it out for you. And
with that you must go contented; and I beseech you not to starve with
that jewel upon your lips.'


Seeing no hope of better terms, he showed me his pet love of a jewel;
and I thought of what Lorna was to me, as I cut it out (with the hinge
of my knife severing the snakes of gold) and placed it in his careful
hand. Another moment, and he was gone, and away through Gwenny's
postern; and God knows what became of him.


Now as to Carver, the thing was this__so far as I could ascertain from
the valiant miners, no two of whom told the same story, any more than
one of them told it twice. The band of Doones which sallied forth for
the robbery of the pretended convoy was met by Simon Carfax, according
to arrangement, at the ruined house called The Warren, in that part of
Bagworthy Forest where the river Exe (as yet a very small stream) runs
through it. The Warren, as all our people know, had belonged to a fine
old gentleman, whom every one called 'The Squire,' who had retreated
from active life to pass the rest of his days in fishing, and shooting,
and helping his neighbours. For he was a man of some substance; and no
poor man ever left The Warren without a bag of good victuals, and a
few shillings put in his pocket. However, this poor Squire never made
a greater mistake, than in hoping to end his life peacefully upon the
banks of a trout_stream, and in the green forest of Bagworthy. For as
he came home from the brook at dusk, with his fly_rod over his shoulder,
the Doones fell upon him, and murdered him, and then sacked his house,
and burned it.


Now this had made honest people timid about going past The Warren at
night; for, of course, it was said that the old Squire 'walked,' upon
certain nights of the moon, in and out of the trunks of trees, on the
green path from the river. On his shoulder he bore a fishing_rod, and
his book of trout_flies, in one hand, and on his back a wicker_creel;
and now and then he would burst out laughing to think of his coming so
near the Doones.


And now that one turns to consider it, this seems a strangely righteous
thing, that the scene of one of the greatest crimes even by Doones
committed should, after twenty years, become the scene of vengeance
falling (like hail from heaven) upon them. For although The Warren lies
well away to the westward of the mine; and the gold, under escort to
Bristowe, or London, would have gone in the other direction; Captain
Carfax, finding this place best suited for working of his design, had
persuaded the Doones, that for reasons of Government, the ore must go
first to Barnstaple for inspection, or something of that sort. And
as every one knows that our Government sends all things westward
when eastward bound, this had won the more faith for Simon, as being
according to nature.


Now Simon, having met these flowers of the flock of villainy, where the
rising moonlight flowed through the weir_work of the wood, begged them
to dismount; and led them with an air of mystery into the Squire's
ruined hall, black with fire, and green with weeds.


'Captain, I have found a thing,' he said to Carver Doone, himself,
'which may help to pass the hour, ere the lump of gold comes by. The
smugglers are a noble race; but a miner's eyes are a match for them.
There lies a puncheon of rare spirit, with the Dutchman's brand upon it,
hidden behind the broken hearth. Set a man to watch outside; and let us
see what this be like.'


With one accord they agreed to this, and Carver pledged Master Carfax,
and all the Doones grew merry. But Simon being bound, as he said, to
see to their strict sobriety, drew a bucket of water from the well into
which they had thrown the dead owner, and begged them to mingle it with
their drink; which some of them did, and some refused.


But the water from that well was poured, while they were carousing, into
the priming_pan of every gun of theirs; even as Simon had promised to do
with the guns of the men they were come to kill. Then just as the giant
Carver arose, with a glass of pure hollands in his hand, and by the
light of the torch they had struck, proposed the good health of the
Squire's ghost__in the broken doorway stood a press of men, with pointed
muskets, covering every drunken Doone. How it fared upon that I know
not, having none to tell me; for each man wrought, neither thought of
telling, nor whether he might be alive to tell. The Doones rushed
to their guns at once, and pointed them, and pulled at them; but the
Squire's well had drowned their fire; and then they knew that they were
betrayed, but resolved to fight like men for it. Upon fighting I can
never dwell; it breeds such savage delight in me; of which I would
fain have less. Enough that all the Doones fought bravely; and like men
(though bad ones) died in the hall of the man they had murdered. And
with them died poor young De Whichehalse, who, in spite of his good
father's prayers, had cast in his lot with the robbers. Carver Doone
alone escaped. Partly through his fearful strength, and his yet more
fearful face; but mainly perhaps through his perfect coolness, and his
mode of taking things.


I am happy to say that no more than eight of the gallant miners were
killed in that combat, or died of their wounds afterwards; and adding
to these the eight we had lost in our assault on the valley (and two of
them excellent warehousemen), it cost no more than sixteen lives to be
rid of nearly forty Doones, each of whom would most likely have killed
three men in the course of a year or two. Therefore, as I said at the
time, a great work was done very reasonably; here were nigh upon forty
Doones destroyed (in the valley, and up at The Warrens) despite their
extraordinary strength and high skill in gunnery; whereas of us ignorant
rustics there were only sixteen to be counted dead__though others might
be lamed, or so,__and of those sixteen only two had left wives, and
their wives did not happen to care for them.


Yet, for Lorna' s sake, I was vexed at the bold escape of Carver.
Not that I sought for Carver's life, any more than I did for the
Counsellor's; but that for us it was no light thing, to have a man of
such power, and resource, and desperation, left at large and furious,
like a famished wolf round the sheepfold. Yet greatly as I blamed the
yeomen, who were posted on their horses, just out of shot from the
Doone_gate, for the very purpose of intercepting those who escaped the
miners, I could not get them to admit that any blame attached to them.


But lo, he had dashed through the whole of them, with his horse at
full gallop; and was nearly out of shot before they began to think of
shooting him. Then it appears from what a boy said__for boys manage to
be everywhere__that Captain Carver rode through the Doone_gate, and so
to the head of the valley. There, of course, he beheld all the houses,
and his own among the number, flaming with a handsome blaze, and
throwing a fine light around such as he often had revelled in, when of
other people's property. But he swore the deadliest of all oaths, and
seeing himself to be vanquished (so far as the luck of the moment went),
spurred his great black horse away, and passed into the darkness.






Lorna Doone by R. D. Blackmore Deluxe Edition Chapter 73


HOW TO GET OUT OF CHANCERY


Things at this time so befell me, that I cannot tell one half; but
am like a boy who has left his lesson (to the master's very footfall)
unready, except with false excuses. And as this makes no good work, so
I lament upon my lingering, in the times when I might have got through
a good page, but went astray after trifles. However, every man must
do according to his intellect; and looking at the easy manner of
my constitution, I think that most men will regard me with pity and
goodwill for trying, more than with contempt and wrath for having tried
unworthily. Even as in the wrestling ring, whatever man did his best,
and made an honest conflict, I always laid him down with softness,
easing off his dusty fall.


But the thing which next betided me was not a fall of any sort; but
rather a most glorious rise to the summit of all fortune. For in good
truth it was no less than the return of Lorna__my Lorna, my own darling;
in wonderful health and spirits, and as glad as a bird to get back
again. It would have done any one good for a twelve_month to behold her
face and doings, and her beaming eyes and smile (not to mention blushes
also at my salutation), when this Queen of every heart ran about our
rooms again. She did love this, and she must see that, and where was our
old friend the cat? All the house was full of brightness, as if the sun
had come over the hill, and Lorna were his mirror.


My mother sat in an ancient chair, and wiped her cheeks, and looked at
her; and even Lizzie's eyes must dance to the freshness and joy of her
beauty. As for me, you might call me mad; for I ran out and flung my
best hat on the barn, and kissed mother Fry, till she made at me with
the sugar_nippers.


What a quantity of things Lorna had to tell us! And yet how often we
stopped her mouth__at least mother, I mean, and Lizzie__and she quite as
often would stop her own, running up in her joy to some one of us!
And then there arose the eating business__which people now call
'refreshment,' in these dandyfied days of our language__for how was it
possible that our Lorna could have come all that way, and to her own
Exmoor, without being terribly hungry?


'Oh, I do love it all so much,' said Lorna, now for the fiftieth time,
and not meaning only the victuals: 'the scent of the gorse on the moors
drove me wild, and the primroses under the hedges. I am sure I was meant
for a farmer's__I mean for a farm_house life, dear Lizzie'__for Lizzie
was looking saucily__'just as you were meant for a soldier's bride, and
for writing despatches of victory. And now, since you will not ask me,
dear mother, in the excellence of your manners, and even John has not
the impudence, in spite of all his coat of arms__I must tell you a
thing, which I vowed to keep until tomorrow morning; but my resolution
fails me. I am my own mistress__what think you of that, mother? I am my
own mistress!'


'Then you shall not be so long,' cried I; for mother seemed not to
understand her, and sought about for her glasses: 'darling, you shall be
mistress of me; and I will be your master.'


'A frank announcement of your intent, and beyond doubt a true one; but
surely unusual at this stage, and a little premature, John. However,
what must be, must be.' And with tears springing out of smiles, she fell
on my breast, and cried a bit.


When I came to smoke a pipe over it (after the rest were gone to bed), I
could hardly believe in my good luck. For here was I, without any merit,
except of bodily power, and the absence of any falsehood (which surely
is no commendation), so placed that the noblest man in England might
envy me, and be vexed with me. For the noblest lady in all the land, and
the purest, and the sweetest__hung upon my heart, as if there was none
to equal it.


I dwelled upon this matter, long and very severely, while I smoked a
new tobacco, brought by my own Lorna for me, and next to herself most
delicious; and as the smoke curled away, I thought, 'Surely this is too
fine to last, for a man who never deserved it.'


Seeing no way out of this, I resolved to place my faith in God; and so
went to bed and dreamed of it. And having no presence of mind to pray
for anything, under the circumstances, I thought it best to fall asleep,
and trust myself to the future. Yet ere I fell asleep the roof above me
swarmed with angels, having Lorna under it.


In the morning Lorna was ready to tell her story, and we to hearken; and
she wore a dress of most simple stuff; and yet perfectly wonderful, by
means of the shape and her figure. Lizzie was wild with jealousy, as
might be expected (though never would Annie have been so, but have
praised it, and craved for the pattern), and mother not understanding
it, looked forth, to be taught about it. For it was strange to note that
lately my dear mother had lost her quickness, and was never quite brisk,
unless the question were about myself. She had seen a great deal of
trouble; and grief begins to close on people, as their power of life
declines. We said that she was hard of hearing; but my opinion was,
that seeing me inclined for marriage made her think of my father, and
so perhaps a little too much, to dwell on the courting of thirty years
agone. Anyhow, she was the very best of mothers; and would smile and
command herself; and be (or try to believe herself) as happy as could
be, in the doings of the younger folk, and her own skill in detecting
them. Yet, with the wisdom of age, renouncing any opinion upon the
matter; since none could see the end of it.


But Lorna in her bright young beauty, and her knowledge of my heart, was
not to be checked by any thoughts of haply coming evil. In the morning
she was up, even sooner than I was, and through all the corners of the
hens, remembering every one of them. I caught her and saluted her with
such warmth (being now none to look at us), that she vowed she would
never come out again; and yet she came the next morning.


These things ought not to be chronicled. Yet I am of such nature, that
finding many parts of life adverse to our wishes, I must now and then
draw pleasure from the blessed portions. And what portion can be more
blessed than with youth, and health, and strength, to be loved by a
virtuous maid, and to love her with all one's heart? Neither was my
pride diminished, when I found what she had done, only from her love of
me.


Earl Brandir's ancient steward, in whose charge she had travelled, with
a proper escort, looked upon her as a lovely maniac; and the mixture of
pity and admiration wherewith he regarded her, was a strange thing to
observe; especially after he had seen our simple house and manners. On
the other hand, Lorna considered him a worthy but foolish old gentleman;
to whom true happiness meant no more than money and high position.


These two last she had been ready to abandon wholly, and had in part
escaped from them, as the enemies of her happiness. And she took
advantage of the times, in a truly clever manner. For that happened
to be a time__as indeed all times hitherto (so far as my knowledge
extends), have, somehow, or other, happened to be__when everybody
was only too glad to take money for doing anything. And the greatest
money_taker in the kingdom (next to the King and Queen, of course, who
had due pre_eminence, and had taught the maids of honour) was generally
acknowledged to be the Lord Chief Justice Jeffreys.


Upon his return from the bloody assizes, with triumph and great glory,
after hanging every man who was too poor to help it, he pleased his
Gracious Majesty so purely with the description of their delightful
agonies, that the King exclaimed, 'This man alone is worthy to be at the
head of the law.' Accordingly in his hand was placed the Great Seal of
England.


So it came to pass that Lorna's destiny hung upon Lord Jeffreys; for at
this time Earl Brandir died, being taken with gout in the heart, soon
after I left London. Lorna was very sorry for him; but as he had never
been able to hear one tone of her sweet silvery voice, it is not to be
supposed that she wept without consolation. She grieved for him as we
ought to grieve for any good man going; and yet with a comforting sense
of the benefit which the blessed exchange must bring to him.


Now the Lady Lorna Dugal appeared to Lord Chancellor Jeffreys so
exceeding wealthy a ward that the lock would pay for turning. Therefore
he came, of his own accord, to visit her, and to treat with her; having
heard (for the man was as big a gossip as never cared for anybody,
yet loved to know all about everybody) that this wealthy and beautiful
maiden would not listen to any young lord, having pledged her faith to
the plain John Ridd.


Thereupon, our Lorna managed so to hold out golden hopes to the Lord
High Chancellor, that he, being not more than three parts drunk, saw his
way to a heap of money. And there and then (for he was not the man
to daily long about anything) upon surety of a certain round sum__the
amount of which I will not mention, because of his kindness towards
me__he gave to his fair ward permission, under sign and seal, to marry
that loyal knight, John Ridd; upon condition only that the King's
consent should be obtained.


His Majesty, well_disposed towards me for my previous service, and
regarding me as a good Catholic, being moved moreover by the Queen, who
desired to please Lorna, consented, without much hesitation, upon the
understanding that Lorna, when she became of full age, and the mistress
of her property (which was still under guardianship), should pay a
heavy fine to the Crown, and devote a fixed portion of her estate to the
promotion of the holy Catholic faith, in a manner to be dictated by the
King himself. Inasmuch, however, as King James was driven out of his
kingdom before this arrangement could take effect, and another king
succeeded, who desired not the promotion of the Catholic religion,
neither hankered after subsidies, (whether French or English), that
agreement was pronounced invalid, improper, and contemptible. However,
there was no getting back the money once paid to Lord Chancellor
Jeffreys.


But what thought we of money at this present moment; or of position,
or anything else, except indeed one another? Lorna told me, with the
sweetest smile, that if I were minded to take her at all, I must take
her without anything; inasmuch as she meant, upon coming of age, to make
over the residue of her estates to the next_of_kin, as being unfit for a
farmer's wife. And I replied with the greatest warmth and a readiness
to worship her, that this was exactly what I longed for, but had never
dared to propose it. But dear mother looked most exceeding grave; and
said that to be sure her opinion could not be expected to count for
much, but she really hoped that in three years' time we should both he a
little wiser, and have more regard for our interests, and perhaps those
of others by that time; and Master Snowe having daughters only, and
nobody coming to marry them, if anything happened to the good old
man__and who could tell in three years' time what might happen to all
or any of us?__why perhaps his farm would be for sale, and perhaps Lady
Lorna's estates in Scotland would fetch enough money to buy it, and so
throw the two farms into one, and save all the trouble about the brook,
as my poor father had longed to do many and many a time, but not having
a title could not do all quite as he wanted. And then if we young
people grew tired of the old mother, as seemed only too likely, and was
according to nature, why we could send her over there, and Lizzie to
keep her company.


When mother had finished, and wiped her eyes, Lorna, who had been
blushing rosily at some portions of this great speech, flung her fair
arms around mother's neck, and kissed her very heartily, and scolded
her (as she well deserved) for her want of confidence in us. My mother
replied that if anybody could deserve her John, it was Lorna; but that
she could not hold with the rashness of giving up money so easily; while
her next_of_kin would be John himself, and who could tell what others,
by the time she was one_and_twenty?


Hereupon, I felt that after all my mother had common sense on her side;
for if Master Snowe's farm should be for sale, it would be far more to
the purpose than my coat of arms, to get it; for there was a different
pasture there, just suited for change of diet to our sheep as well
as large cattle. And beside this, even with all Annie's skill (and of
course yet more now she was gone), their butter would always command in
the market from one to three farthings a pound more than we could get
for ours. And few things vexed us more than this. Whereas, if we got
possession of the farm, we might, without breach of the market_laws, or
any harm done to any one (the price being but a prejudice), sell all our
butter as Snowe butter, and do good to all our customers.


Thinking thus, yet remembering that Farmer Nicholas might hold out for
another score of years__as I heartily hoped he might__or that one, if
not all, of his comely daughters might marry a good young farmer (or
farmers, if the case were so)__or that, even without that, the farm
might never be put up for sale; I begged my Lorna to do as she liked; or
rather to wait and think of it; for as yet she could do nothing.






Lorna Doone by R. D. Blackmore Deluxe Edition Chapter 74


DRIVEN BEYOND ENDURANCE


[Also known as BLOOD UPON THE ALTAR in other editions]




Everything was settled smoothly, and without any fear or fuss, that
Lorna might find end of troubles, and myself of eager waiting, with
the help of Parson Bowden, and the good wishes of two counties. I could
scarce believe my fortune, when I looked upon her beauty, gentleness,
and sweetness, mingled with enough of humour and warm woman's feeling,
never to be dull or tiring; never themselves to be weary.


For she might be called a woman now; although a very young one, and as
full of playful ways, or perhaps I may say ten times as full, as if she
had known no trouble. To wit, the spirit of bright childhood, having
been so curbed and straitened, ere its time was over, now broke forth,
enriched and varied with the garb of conscious maidenhood. And the sense
of steadfast love, and eager love enfolding her, coloured with so many
tinges all her looks, and words, and thoughts, that to me it was the
noblest vision even to think about her.


But this was far too bright to last, without bitter break, and the
plunging of happiness in horror, and of passionate joy in agony. My
darling in her softest moments, when she was alone with me, when the
spark of defiant eyes was veiled beneath dark lashes, and the challenge
of gay beauty passed into sweetest invitation; at such times of her
purest love and warmest faith in me, a deep abiding fear would flutter
in her bounding heart, as of deadly fate's approach. She would cling to
me, and nestle to me, being scared of coyishness, and lay one arm around
my neck, and ask if I could do without her.


Hence, as all emotions haply, of those who are more to us than
ourselves, find within us stronger echo, and more perfect answer, so
I could not be regardless of some hidden evil; and my dark misgivings
deepened as the time drew nearer. I kept a steadfast watch on Lorna,
neglecting a field of beans entirely, as well as a litter of young pigs,
and a cow somewhat given to jaundice. And I let Jem Slocombe go to sleep
in the tallat, all one afternoon, and Bill Dadds draw off a bucket of
cider, without so much as a 'by your leave.' For these men knew that my
knighthood, and my coat of arms, and (most of all) my love, were greatly
against good farming; the sense of our country being__and perhaps it may
be sensible__that a man who sticks up to be anything, must allow himself
to be cheated.


But I never did stick up, nor would, though all the parish bade me; and
I whistled the same tunes to my horses, and held my plough_tree, just
the same as if no King, nor Queen, had ever come to spoil my tune or
hand. For this thing, nearly all the men around our parts upbraided me;
but the women praised me: and for the most part these are right, when
themselves are not concerned.


However humble I might be, no one knowing anything of our part of the
country, would for a moment doubt that now here was a great to do and
talk of John Ridd and his wedding. The fierce fight with the Doones so
lately, and my leading of the combat (though I fought not more than need
be), and the vanishing of Sir Counsellor, and the galloping madness of
Carver, and the religious fear of the women that this last was gone to
hell__for he himself had declared that his aim, while he cut through
the yeomanry__also their remorse, that he should have been made to go
thither with all his children left behind__these things, I say (if
ever I can again contrive to say anything), had led to the broadest
excitement about my wedding of Lorna. We heard that people meant to come
from more than thirty miles around, upon excuse of seeing my stature and
Lorna's beauty; but in good truth out of sheer curiosity, and the love
of meddling.


Our clerk had given notice, that not a man should come inside the door
of his church without shilling_fee; and women (as sure to see twice as
much) must every one pay two shillings. I thought this wrong; and as
church_warden, begged that the money might be paid into mine own hands,
when taken. But the clerk said that was against all law; and he had
orders from the parson to pay it to him without any delay. So as I
always obey the parson, when I care not much about a thing, I let them
have it their own way; though feeling inclined to believe, sometimes,
that I ought to have some of the money.


Dear mother arranged all the ins and outs of the way in which it was
to be done; and Annie and Lizzie, and all the Snowes, and even Ruth
Huckaback (who was there, after great persuasion), made such a sweeping
of dresses that I scarcely knew where to place my feet, and longed for a
staff, to put by their gowns. Then Lorna came out of a pew half_way, in
a manner which quite astonished me, and took my left hand in her right,
and I prayed God that it were done with.


My darling looked so glorious, that I was afraid of glancing at her, yet
took in all her beauty. She was in a fright, no doubt; but nobody should
see it; whereas I said (to myself at least), 'I will go through it like
a grave_digger.'


Lorna's dress was of pure white, clouded with faint lavender (for the
sake of the old Earl Brandir), and as simple as need be, except for
perfect loveliness. I was afraid to look at her, as I said before,
except when each of us said, 'I will,' and then each dwelled upon the
other.


It is impossible for any who have not loved as I have to conceive my joy
and pride, when after ring and all was done, and the parson had blessed
us, Lorna turned to look at me with her glances of subtle fun subdued by
this great act.


Her eyes, which none on earth may ever equal, or compare with, told me
such a depth of comfort, yet awaiting further commune, that I was almost
amazed, thoroughly as I knew them. Darling eyes, the sweetest eyes, the
loveliest, the most loving eyes__the sound of a shot rang through the
church, and those eyes were filled with death.


Lorna fell across my knees when I was going to kiss her, as the
bridegroom is allowed to do, and encouraged, if he needs it; a flood of
blood came out upon the yellow wood of the altar steps, and at my feet
lay Lorna, trying to tell me some last message out of her faithful eyes.
I lifted her up, and petted her, and coaxed her, but it was no good; the
only sign of life remaining was a spirt of bright red blood.


Some men know what things befall them in the supreme time of their
life__far above the time of death__but to me comes back as a hazy dream,
without any knowledge in it, what I did, or felt, or thought, with my
wife's arms flagging, flagging, around my neck, as I raised her up, and
softly put them there. She sighed a long sigh on my breast, for her last
farewell to life, and then she grew so cold, and cold, that I asked the
time of year.


It was Whit_Tuesday, and the lilacs all in blossom; and why I thought
of the time of year, with the young death in my arms, God or His angels,
may decide, having so strangely given us. Enough that so I did, and
looked; and our white lilacs were beautiful. Then I laid my wife in my
mother's arms, and begging that no one would make a noise, went forth
for my revenge.


Of course, I knew who had done it. There was but one man in the
world, or at any rate, in our part of it, who could have done such a
thing__such a thing. I use no harsher word about it, while I leaped upon
our best horse, with bridle but no saddle, and set the head of Kickums
towards the course now pointed out to me. Who showed me the course, I
cannot tell. I only know that I took it. And the men fell back before
me.


Weapon of no sort had I. Unarmed, and wondering at my strange attire
(with a bridal vest, wrought by our Annie, and red with the blood of the
bride), I went forth just to find out this; whether in this world there
be or be not God of justice.


With my vicious horse at a furious speed, I came upon Black Barrow Down,
directed by some shout of men, which seemed to me but a whisper. And
there, about a furlong before me, rode a man on a great black horse, and
I knew that the man was Carver Doone.


'Your life or mine,' I said to myself; 'as the will of God may be. But
we two live not upon this earth, one more hour together.'


I knew the strength of this great man; and I knew that he was armed with
a gun__if he had time to load again, after shooting my Lorna__or at any
rate with pistols, and a horseman's sword as well. Nevertheless, I had
no more doubt of killing the man before me than a cook has of spitting a
headless fowl.


Sometimes seeing no ground beneath me, and sometimes heeding every leaf,
and the crossing of the grass_blades, I followed over the long moor,
reckless whether seen or not. But only once the other man turned round
and looked back again, and then I was beside a rock, with a reedy swamp
behind me.


Although he was so far before me, and riding as hard as ride he might, I
saw that he had something on the horse in front of him; something which
needed care, and stopped him from looking backward. In the whirling of
my wits, I fancied first that this was Lorna; until the scene I had been
through fell across hot brain and heart, like the drop at the close of
a tragedy. Rushing there through crag and quag, at utmost speed of a
maddened horse, I saw, as of another's fate, calmly (as on canvas laid),
the brutal deed, the piteous anguish, and the cold despair.


The man turned up the gully leading from the moor to Cloven Rocks,
through which John Fry had tracked Uncle Ben, as of old related. But as
Carver entered it, he turned round, and beheld me not a hundred yards
behind; and I saw that he was bearing his child, little Ensie, before
him. Ensie also descried me, and stretched his hands and cried to me;
for the face of his father frightened him.


Carver Doone, with a vile oath, thrust spurs into his flagging horse,
and laid one hand on a pistol_stock; whence I knew that his slung
carbine had received no bullet since the one that had pierced Lorna. And
a cry of triumph rose from the black depths of my heart. What cared I
for pistols? I had no spurs, neither was my horse one to need the rowel;
I rather held him in than urged him, for he was fresh as ever; and I
knew that the black steed in front, if he breasted the steep ascent,
where the track divided, must be in our reach at once.


His rider knew this; and, having no room in the rocky channel to turn
and fire, drew rein at the crossways sharply, and plunged into the black
ravine leading to the Wizard's Slough. 'Is it so?' I said to myself
with a brain and head cold as iron; 'though the foul fiend come from the
slough, to save thee; thou shalt carve it, Carver.'


I followed my enemy carefully, steadily, even leisurely; for I had him,
as in a pitfall, whence no escape might be. He thought that I feared to
approach him, for he knew not where he was: and his low disdainful laugh
came back. 'Laugh he who wins,' thought I.


A gnarled and half_starved oak, as stubborn as my own resolve, and
smitten by some storm of old, hung from the crag above me. Rising from
my horse's back, although I had no stirrups, I caught a limb, and tore
it (like a mere wheat_awn) from the socket. Men show the rent even now,
with wonder; none with more wonder than myself.


Carver Doone turned the corner suddenly on the black and bottomless bog;
with a start of fear he reined back his horse, and I thought he would
have turned upon me. But instead of that, he again rode on; hoping to
find a way round the side.


Now there is a way between cliff and slough for those who know the
ground thoroughly, or have time enough to search it; but for him there
was no road, and he lost some time in seeking it. Upon this he made up
his mind; and wheeling, fired, and then rode at me.


His bullet struck me somewhere, but I took no heed of that. Fearing only
his escape, I laid my horse across the way, and with the limb of the
oak struck full on the forehead his charging steed. Ere the slash of the
sword came nigh me, man and horse rolled over, and wellnigh bore my own
horse down, with the power of their onset.


Carver Doone was somewhat stunned, and could not arise for a moment.
Meanwhile I leaped on the ground and awaited, smoothing my hair back,
and baring my arms, as though in the ring for wrestling. Then the little
boy ran to me, clasped my leg, and looked up at me, and the terror in
his eyes made me almost fear myself.


'Ensie, dear,' I said quite gently, grieving that he should see his
wicked father killed, 'run up yonder round the corner and try to find
a pretty bunch of bluebells for the lady.' The child obeyed me,
hanging back, and looking back, and then laughing, while I prepared for
business. There and then I might have killed mine enemy, with a single
blow, while he lay unconscious; but it would have been foul play.


With a sullen and black scowl, the Carver gathered his mighty limbs, and
arose, and looked round for his weapons; but I had put them well away.
Then he came to me and gazed; being wont to frighten thus young men.


'I would not harm you, lad,' he said, with a lofty style of sneering: 'I
have punished you enough, for most of your impertinence. For the rest I
forgive you; because you have been good and gracious to my little son.
Go, and be contented.'


For answer, I smote him on the cheek, lightly, and not to hurt him: but
to make his blood leap up. I would not sully my tongue by speaking to a
man like this.


There was a level space of sward between us and the slough. With the
courtesy derived from London, and the processions I had seen, to this
place I led him. And that he might breathe himself, and have every fibre
cool, and every muscle ready, my hold upon his coat I loosed, and left
him to begin with me, whenever he thought proper.


I think that he felt that his time was come. I think he knew from my
knitted muscles, and the firm arch of my breast, and the way in which
I stood; but most of all from my stern blue eyes; that he had found his
master. At any rate a paleness came, an ashy paleness on his cheeks, and
the vast calves of his legs bowed in, as if he were out of training.


Seeing this, villain as he was, I offered him first chance. I stretched
forth my left hand, as I do to a weaker antagonist, and I let him have
the hug of me. But in this I was too generous; having forgotten my
pistol_wound, and the cracking of one of my short lower ribs. Carver
Doone caught me round the waist, with such a grip as never yet had been
laid upon me.


I heard my rib go; I grasped his arm, and tore the muscle out of it* (as
the string comes out of an orange); then I took him by the throat, which
is not allowed in wrestling; but he had snatched at mine; and now was no
time of dalliance. In vain he tugged, and strained, and writhed, dashed
his bleeding fist into my face, and flung himself on me with gnashing
jaws. Beneath the iron of my strength__for God that day was with me__I
had him helpless in two minutes, and his fiery eyes lolled out.


     * A far more terrible clutch than this is handed down, to
     weaker ages, of the great John Ridd.__Ed.


'I will not harm thee any more,' I cried, so far as I could for panting,
the work being very furious: 'Carver Doone, thou art beaten: own it, and
thank God for it; and go thy way, and repent thyself.'


It was all too late. Even if he had yielded in his ravening frenzy__for
his beard was like a mad dog's jowl__even if he would have owned that,
for the first time in his life, he had found his master; it was all too
late.


The black bog had him by the feet; the sucking of the ground drew on
him, like the thirsty lips of death. In our fury, we had heeded neither
wet nor dry; nor thought of earth beneath us. I myself might scarcely
leap, with the last spring of o'er_laboured legs, from the engulfing
grave of slime. He fell back, with his swarthy breast (from which my
gripe had rent all clothing), like a hummock of bog_oak, standing out
the quagmire; and then he tossed his arms to heaven, and they were black
to the elbow, and the glare of his eyes was ghastly. I could only gaze
and pant; for my strength was no more than an infant's, from the fury
and the horror. Scarcely could I turn away, while, joint by joint, he
sank from sight.






Lorna Doone by R. D. Blackmore Deluxe Edition Chapter 75


LIFE AND LORNA COME AGAIN


When the little boy came back with the bluebells, which he had managed
to find__as children always do find flowers, when older eyes see
none__the only sign of his father left was a dark brown bubble, upon a
newly formed patch of blackness. But to the center of its pulpy gorge
the greedy slough was heaving, and sullenly grinding its weltering jaws
among the flags and the sedges.


With pain, and ache, both of mind and body, and shame at my own fury, I
heavily mounted my horse again, and, looked down at the innocent Ensie.
Would this playful, loving child grow up like his cruel father, and end
a godless life of hatred with a death of violence? He lifted his noble
forehead towards me, as if to answer, "Nay, I will not": but the words
he spoke were these:__


'Don,'__for he could never say 'John'__'oh, Don, I am so glad that nasty
naughty man is gone away. Take me home, Don. Take me home.'


It has been said of the wicked, 'not even their own children love them.'
And I could easily believe that Carver Doone's cold_hearted ways had
scared from him even his favorite child. No man would I call truly
wicked, unless his heart be cold.


It hurt me, more than I can tell, even through all other grief, to take
into my arms the child of the man just slain by me. The feeling was a
foolish one, and a wrong one, as the thing has been__for I would fain
have saved that man, after he was conquered__nevertheless my arms went
coldly round that little fellow; neither would they have gone at all,
if there had been any help for it. But I could not leave him there, till
some one else might fetch him; on account of the cruel slough, and the
ravens which had come hovering over the dead horse; neither could I,
with my wound, tie him on my horse and walk.


For now I had spent a great deal of blood, and was rather faint and
weary. And it was lucky for me that Kickums had lost spirit, like his
master, and went home as mildly as a lamb. For, when we came towards the
farm, I seemed to be riding in a dream almost; and the voices both of
man and women (who had hurried forth upon my track), as they met me,
seemed to wander from a distant muffling cloud. Only the thought of
Lorna's death, like a heavy knell, was tolling in the belfry of my
brain.


When we came to the stable door, I rather fell from my horse than got
off; and John Fry, with a look of wonder took Kickum's head, and led
him in. Into the old farmhouse I tottered, like a weanling child, with
mother in her common clothes, helping me along, yet fearing, except by
stealth, to look at me.


'I have killed him,' was all I said; 'even as he killed Lorna. Now let
me see my wife, mother. She belongs to me none the less, though dead.'


'You cannot see her now, dear John,' said Ruth Huckaback, coming
forward; since no one else had the courage. 'Annie is with her now,
John.'


'What has that to do with it? Let me see my dead one; and pray myself to
die.'


All the women fell away, and whispered, and looked at me, with side
glances, and some sobbing; for my face was hard as flint. Ruth alone
stood by me, and dropped her eyes, and trembled. Then one little hand
of hers stole into my great shaking palm, and the other was laid on
my tattered coat: yet with her clothes she shunned my blood, while she
whispered gently,__


'John, she is not your dead one. She may even be your living one yet,
your wife, your home, and your happiness. But you must not see her now.'


'Is there any chance for her? For me, I mean; for me, I mean?'


'God in heaven knows, dear John. But the sight of you, and in this sad
plight, would be certain death to her. Now come first, and be healed
yourself.'


I obeyed her, like a child, whispering only as I went, for none but
myself knew her goodness__'Almighty God will bless you, darling, for the
good you are doing now.'


Tenfold, ay and a thousandfold, I prayed and I believed it, when I came
to know the truth. If it had not been for this little maid, Lorna must
have died at once, as in my arms she lay for dead, from the dastard and
murderous cruelty. But the moment I left her Ruth came forward and took
the command of every one, in right of her firmness and readiness.


She made them bear her home at once upon the door of the pulpit, with
the cushion under the drooping head. With her own little hands she cut
off, as tenderly as a pear is peeled, the bridal_dress, so steeped and
stained, and then with her dainty transparent fingers (no larger than a
pencil) she probed the vile wound in the side, and fetched the reeking
bullet forth; and then with the coldest water stanched the flowing of
the life_blood. All this while my darling lay insensible, and white as
death; and needed nothing but her maiden shroud.


But Ruth still sponged the poor side and forehead, and watched the long
eyelashes flat upon the marble cheek; and laid her pure face on the
faint heart, and bade them fetch her Spanish wine. Then she parted the
pearly teeth (feebly clenched on the hovering breath), and poured in
wine from a christening spoon, and raised the graceful neck and breast,
and stroked the delicate throat, and waited; and then poured in a little
more.


Annie all the while looked on with horror and amazement, counting
herself no second_rate nurse, and this as against all theory. But the
quiet lifting of Ruth's hand, and one glance from her dark bright eyes,
told Annie just to stand away, and not intercept the air so. And at the
very moment when all the rest had settled that Ruth was a simple idiot,
but could not harm the dead much, a little flutter in the throat,
followed by a short low sigh, made them pause, and look and hope.


For hours, however, and days, she lay at the very verge of death,
kept alive by nothing but the care, the skill, the tenderness, and the
perpetual watchfulness of Ruth. Luckily Annie was not there very often,
so as to meddle; for kind and clever nurse as she was, she must have
done more harm than good. But my broken rib, which was set by a doctor,
who chanced to be at the wedding, was allotted to Annie's care; and
great inflammation ensuing, it was quite enough to content her. This
doctor had pronounced poor Lorna dead; wherefore Ruth refused most
firmly to have aught to do with him. She took the whole case on herself;
and with God's help she bore it through.


Now whether it were the light and brightness of my Lorna's nature; or
the freedom from anxiety__for she knew not of my hurt;__or, as some
people said, her birthright among wounds and violence, or her manner of
not drinking beer__I leave that doctor to determine who pronounced her
dead. But anyhow, one thing is certain; sure as stars of hope above us;
Lorna recovered, long ere I did.


For the grief was on me still of having lost my love and lover at the
moment she was mine. With the power of fate upon me, and the black
cauldron of the wizard's death boiling in my heated brain, I had
no faith in the tales they told. I believed that Lorna was in the
churchyard, while these rogues were lying to me. For with strength of
blood like mine, and power of heart behind it, a broken bone must burn
itself.


Mine went hard with fires of pain, being of such size and thickness; and
I was ashamed of him for breaking by reason of a pistol_ball, and the
mere hug of a man. And it fetched me down in conceit of strength; so
that I was careful afterwards.


All this was a lesson to me. All this made me very humble; illness being
a thing, as yet, altogether unknown to me. Not that I cried small, or
skulked, or feared the death which some foretold; shaking their heads
about mortification, and a green appearance. Only that I seemed quite
fit to go to heaven, and Lorna. For in my sick distracted mind (stirred
with many tossings), like the bead in the spread of frog_spawn carried
by the current, hung the black and central essence of my future life. 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! Well, the ways of God were wonderful!


So they were, and so they are; and so they ever will be. Let us debate
them as we will, are ways are His, and much the same; only second_hand
from Him. And I expected something from Him, even in my worst of times,
knowing that I had done my best.


This is not edifying talk__as our Nonconformist parson says, when he can
get no more to drink__therefore let me only tell what became of Lorna.
One day, I was sitting in my bedroom, for I could not get downstairs,
and there was no one strong enough to carry me, even if I would have
allowed it.


Though it cost me sore trouble and weariness, I had put on all my Sunday
clothes, out of respect for the doctor, who was coming to bleed me again
(as he always did twice a week); and it struck me that he had seemed
hurt in his mind, because I wore my worst clothes to be bled in__for lie
in bed I would not, after six o'clock; and even that was great laziness.


I looked at my right hand, whose grasp had been like that of a
blacksmith's vice; and it seemed to myself impossible that this could
be John Ridd's. The great frame of the hand was there, as well as the
muscles, standing forth like the guttering of a candle, and the broad
blue veins, going up the back, and crossing every finger. But as
for colour, even Lorna's could scarcely have been whiter; and as for
strength, little Ensie Doone might have come and held it fast. I laughed
as I tried in vain to lift the basin set for bleeding me.


Then I thought of all the lovely things going on out_of_doors just now,
concerning which the drowsy song of the bees came to me. These must
be among the thyme, by the sound of their great content. Therefore the
roses must be in blossom, and the woodbine, and clove_gilly_flower; the
cherries on the wall must be turning red, the yellow Sally must be on
the brook, wheat must be callow with quavering bloom, and the early
meadows swathed with hay.


Yet here was I, a helpless creature quite unfit to stir among them,
gifted with no sight, no scent of all the changes that move our love,
and lead our hearts, from month to month, along the quiet path of life.
And what was worse, I had no hope of caring ever for them more.


Presently a little knock sounded through my gloomy room, and supposing
it to be the doctor, I tried to rise and make my bow. But to my surprise
it was little Ruth, who had never once come to visit me, since I
was placed under the doctor's hands. Ruth was dressed so gaily, with
rosettes, and flowers, and what not, that I was sorry for her bad
manners; and thought she was come to conquer me, now that Lorna was done
with.


Ruth ran towards me with sparkling eyes, being rather short of sight;
then suddenly she stopped, and I saw entire amazement in her face.


'Can you receive visitors, Cousin Ridd?__why, they never told me of
this!' she cried: 'I knew that you were weak, dear John; but not that
you were dying. Whatever is that basin for?'


'I have no intention of dying, Ruth; and I like not to talk about it.
But that basin, if you must know, is for the doctor's purpose.'


'What, do you mean bleeding you? You poor weak cousin! Is it possible
that he does that still?'


'Twice a week for the last six weeks, dear. Nothing else has kept me
alive.'


'Nothing else has killed you, nearly. There!' and she set her little
boot across the basin, and crushed it. 'Not another drop shall they have
from you. Is Annie such a fool as that? And Lizzie, like a zany, at her
books! And killing her brother, between them!'


I was surprised to see Ruth excited; her character being so calm and
quiet. And I tried to soothe her with my feeble hand, as now she knelt
before me.


'Dear cousin, the doctor must know best. Annie says so, every day. What
has he been brought up for?'


'Brought up for slaying and murdering. Twenty doctors killed King
Charles, in spite of all the women. Will you leave it to me, John? I
have a little will of my own; and I am not afraid of doctors. Will you
leave it to me, dear John? I have saved your Lorna's life. 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; and no more than you can I do it.'


If ever there was virtuous truth in the eyes of any woman, it was now
in Ruth Huckaback's: and my brain began very slowly to move, the heart
being almost torpid from perpetual loss of blood.


'I do not understand,' was all I could say for a very long time.


'Will you understand, if I show you Lorna? I have feared to do it, for
the sake of you both. But now Lorna is well enough, if you think that
you are, Cousin John. Surely you will understand, when you see your
wife.'


Following her, to the very utmost of my mind and heart, I felt that all
she said was truth; and yet I could not make it out. And in her last
few words there was such a power of sadness rising through the cover
of gaiety, that I said to myself, half in a dream, 'Ruth is very
beautiful.'


Before I had time to listen much for the approach of footsteps, Ruth
came back, and behind her Lorna; coy as if of her bridegroom; and
hanging back with her beauty. Ruth banged the door, and ran away; and
Lorna stood before me.


But she did not stand for an instant, when she saw what I was like. At
the risk of all thick bandages, and upsetting a dozen medicine bottles,
and scattering leeches right and left, she managed to get into my arms,
although they could not hold her. She laid her panting warm young breast
on the place where they meant to bleed me, and she set my pale face up;
and she would not look at me, having greater faith in kissing.


I felt my life come back, and warm; I felt my trust in women flow; I
felt the joys of living now, and the power of doing it. It is not a
moment to describe; who feels can never tell of it. But the rush of
Lorna's tears, and the challenge of my bride's lips, and the throbbing
of my wife's heart (now at last at home on mine), made me feel that the
world was good, and not a thing to be weary of.


Little more have I to tell. The doctor was turned out at once; and
slowly came back my former strength, with a darling wife, and good
victuals. As for Lorna, she never tired of sitting and watching me eat
and eat. And such is her heart that she never tires of being with me
here and there, among the beautiful places, and talking with her arm
around me__so far at least as it can go, though half of mine may go
round her__of the many fears and troubles, dangers and discouragements,
and worst of all the bitter partings, which we used to have, somehow.


There is no need for my farming harder than becomes a man of weight.
Lorna has great stores of money, though we never draw it out, except for
some poor neighbor; unless I find her a sumptuous dress, out of her own
perquisites. 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. The law had ruined him once, he said; and then he had
been too much for the law: and now that a quiet life was his object,
here the base thing came after him. And such was his dread of this
evil spirit, that being caught upon Barnstaple Bridge, with soldiers
at either end of it (yet doubtful about approaching him), he set his
strawberry mare, sweet Winnie, at the left_hand parapet, with a whisper
into her dove_coloured ear. Without a moment's doubt she leaped it, into
the foaming tide, and swam, and landed according to orders. Also his
flight from a public_house (where a trap was set for him, but Winnie
came and broke down the door, and put two men under, and trod on them,)
is as well known as any ballad. It was reported for awhile that poor Tom
had been caught at last, by means of his fondness for liquor, and was
hanged before Taunton Jail; but luckily we knew better. With a good
wife, and a wonderful horse, and all the country attached to him, he
kept the law at a wholesome distance, until it became too much for its
master; and a new king arose. Upon this, Tom sued his pardon afresh; and
Jeremy Stickles, who suited the times, was glad to help him in getting
it, as well as a compensation. Thereafter the good and respectable
Tom lived a godly (though not always sober) life; and brought up his
children to honesty, as the first of all qualifications.


My dear mother was as happy as possibly need be with us; having no
cause for jealousy, as others arose around her. And everybody was well
pleased, when Lizzy came in one day and tossed her bookshelf over, and
declared that she would have Captain Bloxham, and nobody should prevent
her. For that he alone, of all the men she had ever met with, knew good
writing when he saw it, and could spell a word when told. As he had now
succeeded to Captain Stickle's position (Stickles going up the tree),
and had the power of collecting, and of keeping, what he liked, there
was nothing to be said against it; and we hoped that he would pay her
out.


I sent little Ensie to Blundell's school, at my own cost and charges,
having changed his name, for fear of what anyone might do to him. 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.


Ruth Huckaback is not married yet; although upon Uncle Reuben's death
she came into all his property; except, indeed, 2000 pounds, 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. Ruth herself was his true mine, as upon death_bed he found. I know
a man even worthy of her: and though she is not very young, he loves
her, as I love Lorna. It is my firm conviction, that in the end he
will win her; and I do not mean to dance again, except at dear Ruth's
wedding; if the floor be strong enough.


Of Lorna, of my lifelong darling, of my more and more loved wife, I will
not talk; for it is not seemly that a man should exalt his pride. Year
by year her beauty grows, with the growth of goodness, kindness, and
true happiness__above all with loving. For change, she makes a joke of
this, and plays with it, and laughs at it; and then, when my slow nature
marvels, back she comes to the earnest thing. And if I wish to pay her
out for something very dreadful__as may happen once or twice, when we
become too gladsome__I bring her to forgotten sadness, and to me for
cure of it, by the two words 'Lorna Doone.'


The End