Lorna Doone by R. D. Blackmore Deluxe Edition

Chapter 25

A GREAT MAN ATTENDS TO BUSINESS

Having seen Lord Russell murdered in the fields of Lincoln's Inn, or
rather having gone to see it, but turned away with a sickness and a
bitter flood of tears__for a whiter and a nobler neck never fell
before low beast__I strode away towards Westminster, cured of half my
indignation at the death of Charles the First. Many people hurried past
me, chiefly of the more tender sort, revolting at the butchery. In their
ghastly faces, as they turned them back, lest the sight should be coming
after them, great sorrow was to be seen, and horror, and pity, and some
anger.

In Westminster Hall I found nobody; not even the crowd of crawling
varlets, who used to be craving evermore for employment or for payment.
I knocked at three doors, one after other, of lobbies going out of it,
where I had formerly seen some officers and people pressing in and out,
but for my trouble I took nothing, except some thumps from echo. And at
last an old man told me that all the lawyers were gone to see the result
of their own works, in the fields of Lincoln's Inn.

However, in a few days' time, I had better fortune; for the court was
sitting and full of business, to clear off the arrears of work, before
the lawyers' holiday. As I was waiting in the hall for a good occasion,
a man with horsehair on his head, and a long blue bag in his left hand,
touched me gently on the arm, and led me into a quiet place. I followed
him very gladly, being confident that he came to me with a message from
the Justiciaries. But after taking pains to be sure that none could
overhear us, he turned on me suddenly, and asked,__

'Now, John, how is your dear mother?'

'Worshipful sir' I answered him, after recovering from my surprise at
his knowledge of our affairs, and kindly interest in them, 'it is two
months now since I have seen her. Would to God that I only knew how she
is faring now, and how the business of the farm goes!'

'Sir, I respect and admire you,' the old gentleman replied, with a
bow very low and genteel; 'few young court_gallants of our time are so
reverent and dutiful. Oh, how I did love my mother!' Here he turned up
his eyes to heaven, in a manner that made me feel for him and yet with a
kind of wonder.

'I am very sorry for you, sir,' I answered most respectfully, not
meaning to trespass on his grief, yet wondering at his mother's age; for
he seemed to be at least threescore; 'but I am no court_gallant, sir; I
am only a farmer's son, and learning how to farm a little.'

'Enough, John; quite enough,' he cried, 'I can read it in thy
countenance. Honesty is written there, and courage and simplicity. But I
fear that, in this town of London, thou art apt to be taken in by people
of no principle. Ah me! Ah me! The world is bad, and I am too old to
improve it.'

Then finding him so good and kind, and anxious to improve the age, I
told him almost everything; how much I paid the fellmonger, and all the
things I had been to see; and how I longed to get away, before the corn
was ripening; yet how (despite of these desires) I felt myself bound to
walk up and down, being under a thing called 'recognisance.' In short,
I told him everything; except the nature of my summons (which I had no
right to tell), and that I was out of money.

My tale was told in a little archway, apart from other lawyers; and the
other lawyers seemed to me to shift themselves, and to look askew, like
sheep through a hurdle, when the rest are feeding.

'What! Good God!' my lawyer cried, smiting his breast indignantly with a
roll of something learned; 'in what country do we live? Under what
laws are we governed? No case before the court whatever; no primary
deposition, so far as we are furnished; not even a King's writ
issued__and here we have a fine young man dragged from his home and
adoring mother, during the height of agriculture, at his own cost and
charges! I have heard of many grievances; but this the very worst of
all. Nothing short of a Royal Commission could be warranty for it. This
is not only illegal, sir, but most gravely unconstitutional.'

'I had not told you, worthy sir,' I answered him, in a lower tone, 'if I
could have thought that your sense of right would be moved so painfully.
But now I must beg to leave you, sir__for I see that the door again is
open. I beg you, worshipful sir, to accept__'

Upon this he put forth his hand and said, 'Nay, nay, my son, not two,
not two:' yet looking away, that he might not scare me.

'To accept, kind sir, my very best thanks, and most respectful
remembrances.' And with that, I laid my hand in his. 'And if, sir, any
circumstances of business or of pleasure should bring you to our part
of the world, I trust you will not forget that my mother and myself (if
ever I get home again) will do our best to make you comfortable with our
poor hospitality.'

With this I was hasting away from him, but he held my hand and looked
round at me. And he spoke without cordiality.

'Young man, a general invitation is no entry for my fee book. I have
spent a good hour of business_time in mastering thy case, and stating
my opinion of it. And being a member of the bar, called six_and_thirty
years agone by the honourable society of the Inner Temple, my fee is
at my own discretion; albeit an honorarium. For the honour of the
profession, and my position in it, I ought to charge thee at least five
guineas, although I would have accepted one, offered with good will
and delicacy. Now I will enter it two, my son, and half a crown for my
clerk's fee.'

Saying this, he drew forth from his deep, blue bag, a red book having
clasps to it, and endorsed in gold letters 'Fee_book'; and before I
could speak (being frightened so) he had entered on a page of it, 'To
consideration of ease as stated by John Ridd, and advising thereupon,
two guineas.'

'But sir, good sir,' I stammered forth, not having two guineas left in
the world, yet grieving to confess it, 'I knew not that I was to pay,
learned sir. I never thought of it in that way.'

'Wounds of God! In what way thought you that a lawyer listened to your
rigmarole?'

'I thought that you listened from kindness, sir, and compassion of my
grievous case, and a sort of liking for me.'

'A lawyer like thee, young curmudgeon! A lawyer afford to feel
compassion gratis! Either thou art a very deep knave, or the greenest of
all greenhorns. Well, I suppose, I must let thee off for one guinea, and
the clerk's fee. A bad business, a shocking business!'

Now, if this man had continued kind and soft, as when he heard my story,
I would have pawned my clothes to pay him, rather than leave a debt
behind, although contracted unwittingly. But when he used harsh language
so, knowing that I did not deserve it, I began to doubt within myself
whether he deserved my money. Therefore I answered him with some
readiness, such as comes sometimes to me, although I am so slow.

'Sir, I am no curmudgeon: if a young man had called me so, it would not
have been well with him. This money shall be paid, if due, albeit I
had no desire to incur the debt. You have advised me that the Court
is liable for my expenses, so far as they be reasonable. If this be
a reasonable expense, come with me now to Lord Justice Jeffreys, and
receive from him the two guineas, or (it may be) five, for the counsel
you have given me to deny his jurisdiction.' With these words, I took
his arm to lead him, for the door was open still.

'In the name of God, boy, let me go. Worthy sir, pray let me go. My wife
is sick, and my daughter dying__in the name of God, sir, let me go.'

'Nay, nay,' I said, having fast hold of him, 'I cannot let thee go
unpaid, sir. Right is right; and thou shalt have it.'

'Ruin is what I shall have, boy, if you drag me before that devil. He
will strike me from the bar at once, and starve me, and all my family.
Here, lad, good lad, take these two guineas. Thou hast despoiled
the spoiler. Never again will I trust mine eyes for knowledge of a
greenhorn.'

He slipped two guineas into the hand which I had hooked through his
elbow, and spoke in an urgent whisper again, for the people came
crowding around us__'For God's sake let me go, boy; another moment will
be too late.'

'Learned sir,' I answered him, 'twice you spoke, unless I err, of the
necessity of a clerk's fee, as a thing to be lamented.'

'To be sure, to be sure, my son. You have a clerk as much as I have.
There it is. Now I pray thee, take to the study of the law. Possession
is nine points of it, which thou hast of me. Self_possession is the
tenth, and that thou hast more than the other nine.'

Being flattered by this, and by the feeling of the two guineas and
half_crown, I dropped my hold upon Counsellor Kitch (for he was no less
a man than that), and he was out of sight in a second of time, wig, blue
bag, and family. And before I had time to make up my mind what I should
do with his money (for of course I meant not to keep it) the crier of
the Court (as they told me) came out, and wanted to know who I was. I
told him, as shortly as I could, that my business lay with His Majesty's
bench, and was very confidential; upon which he took me inside with
warning, and showed me to an under_clerk, who showed me to a higher one,
and the higher clerk to the head one.

When this gentleman understood all about my business (which I told him
without complaint) he frowned at me very heavily, as if I had done him
an injury.

'John Ridd,' he asked me with a stern glance, 'is it your deliberate
desire to be brought into the presence of the Lord Chief Justice?'

'Surely, sir, it has been my desire for the last two months and more.'

'Then, John, thou shalt be. But mind one thing, not a word of thy long
detention, or thou mayst get into trouble.'

'How, sir? For being detained against my own wish?' I asked him; but he
turned away, as if that matter were not worth his arguing, as, indeed, I
suppose it was not, and led me through a little passage to a door with a
curtain across it.

'Now, if my Lord cross_question you,' the gentleman whispered to me,
'answer him straight out truth at once, for he will have it out of
thee. And mind, he loves not to be contradicted, neither can he bear a
hang_dog look. Take little heed of the other two; but note every word of
the middle one; and never make him speak twice.'

I thanked him for his good advice, as he moved the curtain and thrust me
in, but instead of entering withdrew, and left me to bear the brunt of
it.

The chamber was not very large, though lofty to my eyes, and dark, with
wooden panels round it. At the further end were some raised seats, such
as I have seen in churches, lined with velvet, and having broad elbows,
and a canopy over the middle seat. There were only three men sitting
here, one in the centre, and one on each side; and all three were done
up wonderfully with fur, and robes of state, and curls of thick gray
horsehair, crimped and gathered, and plaited down to their shoulders.
Each man had an oak desk before him, set at a little distance, and
spread with pens and papers. Instead of writing, however, they seemed
to be laughing and talking, or rather the one in the middle seemed to
be telling some good story, which the others received with approval. By
reason of their great perukes it was hard to tell how old they were; but
the one who was speaking seemed the youngest, although he was the chief
of them. A thick_set, burly, and bulky man, with a blotchy broad face,
and great square jaws, and fierce eyes full of blazes; he was one to be
dreaded by gentle souls, and to be abhorred by the noble.

Between me and the three lord judges, some few lawyers were gathering up
bags and papers and pens and so forth, from a narrow table in the middle
of the room, as if a case had been disposed of, and no other were called
on. But before I had time to look round twice, the stout fierce man
espied me, and shouted out with a flashing stare'__

'How now, countryman, who art thou?'

'May it please your worship,' I answered him loudly, 'I am John Ridd, of
Oare parish, in the shire of Somerset, brought to this London, some two
months back by a special messenger, whose name is Jeremy Stickles;
and then bound over to be at hand and ready, when called upon to give
evidence, in a matter unknown to me, but touching the peace of our lord
the King, and the well_being of his subjects. Three times I have met our
lord the King, but he hath said nothing about his peace, and only held
it towards me, and every day, save Sunday, I have walked up and down the
great hall of Westminster, all the business part of the day, expecting
to be called upon, yet no one hath called upon me. And now I desire to
ask your worship, whether I may go home again?'

'Well, done, John,' replied his lordship, while I was panting with all
this speech; 'I will go bail for thee, John, thou hast never made such
a long speech before; and thou art a spunky Briton, or thou couldst not
have made it now. I remember the matter well, and I myself will attend
to it, although it arose before my time'__he was but newly Chief
Justice__'but I cannot take it now, John. There is no fear of losing
thee, John, any more than the Tower of London. I grieve for His
Majesty's exchequer, after keeping thee two months or more.'

'Nay, my lord, I crave your pardon. My mother hath been keeping me. Not
a groat have I received.'

'Spank, is it so?' his lordship cried, in a voice that shook the
cobwebs, and the frown on his brow shook the hearts of men, and mine as
much as the rest of them,__'Spank, is His Majesty come to this, that he
starves his own approvers?'

'My lord, my lord,' whispered Mr. Spank, the chief_officer of evidence,
'the thing hath been overlooked, my lord, among such grave matters of
treason.'

'I will overlook thy head, foul Spank, on a spike from Temple Bar, if
ever I hear of the like again. Vile varlet, what art thou paid for? Thou
hast swindled the money thyself, foul Spank; I know thee, though thou
art new to me. Bitter is the day for thee that ever I came across thee.
Answer me not__one word more and I will have thee on a hurdle.' And he
swung himself to and fro on his bench, with both hands on his knees; and
every man waited to let it pass, knowing better than to speak to him.

'John Ridd,' said the Lord Chief Justice, at last recovering a sort of
dignity, yet daring Spank from the corners of his eyes to do so much as
look at him, 'thou hast been shamefully used, John Ridd. Answer me not
boy; not a word; but go to Master Spank, and let me know how he behaves
to thee;' here he made a glance at Spank, which was worth at least ten
pounds to me; 'be thou here again to_morrow, and before any other case
is taken, I will see justice done to thee. Now be off boy; thy name is
Ridd, and we are well rid of thee.'

I was only too glad to go, after all this tempest; as you may well
suppose. For if ever I saw a man's eyes become two holes for the devil
to glare from, I saw it that day; and the eyes were those of the Lord
Chief Justice Jeffreys.

Mr. Spank was in the lobby before me, and before I had recovered
myself__for I was vexed with my own terror__he came up sidling and
fawning to me, with a heavy bag of yellow leather.

'Good Master Ridd, take it all, take it all, and say a good word for me
to his lordship. He hath taken a strange fancy to thee; and thou must
make the most of it. We never saw man meet him eye to eye so, and yet
not contradict him, and that is just what he loveth. Abide in London,
Master Ridd, and he will make thy fortune. His joke upon thy name proves
that. And I pray you remember, Master Ridd, that the Spanks are sixteen
in family.'

But I would not take the bag from him, regarding it as a sort of bribe
to pay me such a lump of money, without so much as asking how great had
been my expenses. Therefore I only told him that if he would kindly keep
the cash for me until the morrow, I would spend the rest of the day in
counting (which always is sore work with me) how much it had stood me in
board and lodging, since Master Stickles had rendered me up; for until
that time he had borne my expenses. In the morning I would give Mr.
Spank a memorandum, duly signed, and attested by my landlord, including
the breakfast of that day, and in exchange for this I would take the
exact amount from the yellow bag, and be very thankful for it.

'If that is thy way of using opportunity,' said Spank, looking at me
with some contempt, 'thou wilt never thrive in these times, my lad. Even
the Lord Chief Justice can be little help to thee; unless thou knowest
better than that how to help thyself.'

It mattered not to me. The word 'approver' stuck in my gorge, as used
by the Lord Chief Justice; for we looked upon an approver as a very low
thing indeed. I would rather pay for every breakfast, and even every
dinner, eaten by me since here I came, than take money as an approver.
And indeed I was much disappointed at being taken in that light, having
understood that I was sent for as a trusty subject, and humble friend of
His Majesty.

In the morning I met Mr. Spank waiting for me at the entrance, and very
desirous to see me. I showed him my bill, made out in fair copy, and
he laughed at it, and said, 'Take it twice over, Master Ridd; once for
thine own sake, and once for His Majesty's; as all his loyal tradesmen
do, when they can get any. His Majesty knows and is proud of it, for
it shows their love of his countenance; and he says, "bis dat qui cito
dat," then how can I grumble at giving twice, when I give so slowly?'

'Nay, I will take it but once,' I said; 'if His Majesty loves to be
robbed, he need not lack of his desire, while the Spanks are sixteen in
family.'

The clerk smiled cheerfully at this, being proud of his children's
ability; and then having paid my account, he whispered,__

'He is all alone this morning, John, and in rare good humour. He hath
been promised the handling of poor Master Algernon Sidney, and he
says he will soon make republic of him; for his state shall shortly be
headless. He is chuckling over his joke, like a pig with a nut; and that
always makes him pleasant. John Ridd, my lord!' With that he swung up
the curtain bravely, and according to special orders, I stood, face to
face, and alone with Judge Jeffreys.



Lorna Doone by R. D. Blackmore Deluxe Edition Chapter 26

JOHN IS DRAINED AND CAST ASIDE

His lordship was busy with some letters, and did not look up for a
minute or two, although he knew that I was there. Meanwhile I stood
waiting to make my bow; afraid to begin upon him, and wondering at his
great bull_head. Then he closed his letters, well_pleased with their
import, and fixed his bold broad stare on me, as if I were an oyster
opened, and he would know how fresh I was.

'May it please your worship,' I said, 'here I am according to order,
awaiting your good pleasure.'

'Thou art made to weight, John, more than order. How much dost thou tip
the scales to?'

'Only twelvescore pounds, my lord, when I be in wrestling trim. And sure
I must have lost weight here, fretting so long in London.'

'Ha, ha! Much fret is there in thee! Hath His Majesty seen thee?'

'Yes, my lord, twice or even thrice; and he made some jest concerning
me.'

'A very bad one, I doubt not. His humour is not so dainty as mine, but
apt to be coarse and unmannerly. Now John, or Jack, by the look of thee,
thou art more used to be called.'

'Yes, your worship, when I am with old Molly and Betty Muxworthy.'

'Peace, thou forward varlet! There is a deal too much of thee. We shall
have to try short commons with thee, and thou art a very long common.
Ha, ha! Where is that rogue Spank? Spank must hear that by_and_by. It is
beyond thy great thick head, Jack.'

'Not so, my lord; I have been at school, and had very bad jokes made
upon me.'

'Ha, ha! It hath hit thee hard. And faith, it would be hard to miss
thee, even with harpoon. And thou lookest like to blubber, now. Capital,
in faith! I have thee on every side, Jack, and thy sides are manifold;
many_folded at any rate. Thou shalt have double expenses, Jack, for the
wit thou hast provoked in me.'

'Heavy goods lack heavy payment, is a proverb down our way, my lord.'

'Ah, I hurt thee, I hurt thee, Jack. The harpoon hath no tickle for
thee. Now, Jack Whale, having hauled thee hard, we will proceed to
examine thee.' Here all his manner was changed, and he looked with his
heavy brows bent upon me, as if he had never laughed in his life, and
would allow none else to do so.

'I am ready to answer, my lord,' I replied, 'if he asks me nought beyond
my knowledge, or beyond my honour.'

'Hadst better answer me everything, lump. What hast thou to do with
honour? Now is there in thy neighbourhood a certain nest of robbers,
miscreants, and outlaws, whom all men fear to handle?'

'Yes, my lord. At least, I believe some of them be robbers, and all of
them are outlaws.'

'And what is your high sheriff about, that he doth not hang them all? Or
send them up for me to hang, without more to do about them?'

'I reckon that he is afraid, my lord; it is not safe to meddle with
them. They are of good birth, and reckless; and their place is very
strong.'

'Good birth! What was Lord Russell of, Lord Essex, and this Sidney? 'Tis
the surest heirship to the block to be the chip of a good one. What is
the name of this pestilent race, and how many of them are there?'

'They are the Doones of Bagworthy forest, may it please your worship.
And we reckon there be about forty of them, beside the women and
children.'

'Forty Doones, all forty thieves! and women and children! Thunder of
God! How long have they been there then?'

'They may have been there thirty years, my lord; and indeed they may
have been forty. Before the great war broke out they came, longer back
than I can remember.'

'Ay, long before thou wast born, John. Good, thou speakest plainly.
Woe betide a liar, whenso I get hold of him. Ye want me on the Western
Circuit; by God, and ye shall have me, when London traitors are spun and
swung. There is a family called De Whichehalse living very nigh thee,
John?'

This he said in a sudden manner, as if to take me off my guard, and
fixed his great thick eyes on me. And in truth I was much astonished.

'Yes, my lord, there is. At least, not so very far from us. Baron de
Whichehalse, of Ley Manor.'

'Baron, ha! of the Exchequer__eh, lad? And taketh dues instead of His
Majesty. Somewhat which halts there ought to come a little further, I
trow. It shall be seen to, as well as the witch which makes it so to
halt. Riotous knaves in West England, drunken outlaws, you shall dance,
if ever I play pipe for you. John Ridd, I will come to Oare parish, and
rout out the Oare of Babylon.'

'Although your worship is so learned,' I answered seeing that now he
was beginning to make things uneasy; 'your worship, though being Chief
Justice, does little justice to us. We are downright good and loyal
folk; and I have not seen, since here I came to this great town of
London, any who may better us, or even come anigh us, in honesty, and
goodness, and duty to our neighbours. For we are very quiet folk, not
prating our own virtues__'

'Enough, good John, enough! Knowest thou not that modesty is the
maidenhood of virtue, lost even by her own approval? Now hast thou ever
heard or thought that De Whichehalse is in league with the Doones of
Bagworthy?'

Saying these words rather slowly, he skewered his great eyes into mine,
so that I could not think at all, neither look at him, nor yet away.
The idea was so new to me that it set my wits all wandering; and looking
into me, he saw that I was groping for the truth.

'John Ridd, thine eyes are enough for me. I see thou hast never dreamed
of it. Now hast thou ever seen a man whose name is Thomas Faggus?'

'Yes, sir, many and many a time. He is my own worthy cousin; and I fear
he that hath intentions'__here I stopped, having no right there to speak
about our Annie.

'Tom Faggus is a good man,' he said; and his great square face had a
smile which showed me he had met my cousin; 'Master Faggus hath made
mistakes as to the title to property, as lawyers oftentimes may do; but
take him all for all, he is a thoroughly straightforward man; presents
his bill, and has it paid, and makes no charge for drawing it.
Nevertheless, we must tax his costs, as of any other solicitor.'

'To be sure, to be sure, my lord!' was all that I could say, not
understanding what all this meant.

'I fear he will come to the gallows,' said the Lord Chief Justice,
sinking his voice below the echoes; 'tell him this from me, Jack. He
shall never be condemned before me; but I cannot be everywhere, and some
of our Justices may keep short memory of his dinners. Tell him to change
his name, turn parson, or do something else, to make it wrong to hang
him. Parson is the best thing, he hath such command of features, and he
might take his tithes on horseback. Now a few more things, John Ridd;
and for the present I have done with thee.'

All my heart leaped up at this, to get away from London so: and yet I
could hardly trust to it.

'Is there any sound round your way of disaffection to His Majesty, His
most gracious Majesty?'

'No, my lord: no sign whatever. We pray for him in church perhaps,
and we talk about him afterwards, hoping it may do him good, as it is
intended. But after that we have naught to say, not knowing much about
him__at least till I get home again.'

'That is as it should be, John. And the less you say the better. But I
have heard of things in Taunton, and even nearer to you in Dulverton,
and even nigher still upon Exmoor; things which are of the pillory
kind, and even more of the gallows. I see that you know naught of them.
Nevertheless, it will not be long before all England hears of them. Now,
John, I have taken a liking to thee, for never man told me the truth,
without fear or favour, more thoroughly and truly than thou hast done.
Keep thou clear of this, my son. It will come to nothing; yet many shall
swing high for it. Even I could not save thee, John Ridd, if thou wert
mixed in this affair. Keep from the Doones, keep from De Whichehalse,
keep from everything which leads beyond the sight of thy knowledge. I
meant to use thee as my tool; but I see thou art too honest and simple.
I will send a sharper down; but never let me find thee, John, either a
tool for the other side, or a tube for my words to pass through.'

Here the Lord Justice gave me such a glare that I wished myself well
rid of him, though thankful for his warnings; and seeing how he had
made upon me a long abiding mark of fear, he smiled again in a jocular
manner, and said,__

'Now, get thee gone, Jack. I shall remember thee; and I trow, thou
wilt'st not for many a day forget me.'

'My lord, I was never so glad to go; for the hay must be in, and the
ricks unthatched, and none of them can make spars like me, and two men
to twist every hay_rope, and mother thinking it all right, and listening
right and left to lies, and cheated at every pig she kills, and even the
skins of the sheep to go__'

'John Ridd, I thought none could come nigh your folk in honesty, and
goodness, and duty to their neighbours!'

'Sure enough, my lord; but by our folk, I mean ourselves, not the men
nor women neither__'

'That will do, John. Go thy way. Not men, nor women neither, are better
than they need be.'

I wished to set this matter right; but his worship would not hear me,
and only drove me out of court, saying that men were thieves and liars,
no more in one place than another, but all alike all over the world,
and women not far behind them. It was not for me to dispute this point
(though I was not yet persuaded of it), both because my lord was a
Judge, and must know more about it, and also that being a man myself I
might seem to be defending myself in an unbecoming manner. Therefore I
made a low bow, and went; in doubt as to which had the right of it.

But though he had so far dismissed me, I was not yet quite free to
go, inasmuch as I had not money enough to take me all the way to Oare,
unless indeed I should go afoot, and beg my sustenance by the way, which
seemed to be below me. Therefore I got my few clothes packed, and my few
debts paid, all ready to start in half an hour, if only they would give
me enough to set out upon the road with. For I doubted not, being young
and strong, that I could walk from London to Oare in ten days or in
twelve at most, which was not much longer than horse_work; only I had
been a fool, as you will say when you hear it. For after receiving from
Master Spank the amount of the bill which I had delivered__less indeed
by fifty shillings than the money my mother had given me, for I had
spent fifty shillings, and more, in seeing the town and treating people,
which I could not charge to His Majesty__I had first paid all my debts
thereout, which were not very many, and then supposing myself to be an
established creditor of the Treasury for my coming needs, and already
scenting the country air, and foreseeing the joy of my mother, what had
I done but spent half my balance, ay and more than three_quarters of it,
upon presents for mother, and Annie, and Lizzie, John Fry, and his wife,
and Betty Muxworthy, Bill Dadds, Jim Slocombe, and, in a word, half of
the rest of the people at Oare, including all the Snowe family, who must
have things good and handsome? And if I must while I am about it, hide
nothing from those who read me, I had actually bought for Lorna a thing
the price of which quite frightened me, till the shopkeeper said it was
nothing at all, and that no young man, with a lady to love him, could
dare to offer her rubbish, such as the Jew sold across the way. Now the
mere idea of beautiful Lorna ever loving me, which he talked about as
patly (though of course I never mentioned her) as if it were a settled
thing, and he knew all about it, that mere idea so drove me abroad,
that if he had asked three times as much, I could never have counted the
money.

Now in all this I was a fool of course__not for remembering my friends
and neighbours, which a man has a right to do, and indeed is bound to
do, when he comes from London__but for not being certified first what
cash I had to go on with. And to my great amazement, when I went with
another bill for the victuals of only three days more, and a week's
expense on the homeward road reckoned very narrowly, Master Spank not
only refused to grant me any interview, but sent me out a piece of blue
paper, looking like a butcher's ticket, and bearing these words and no
more, 'John Ridd, go to the devil. He who will not when he may, when he
will, he shall have nay.' From this I concluded that I had lost favour
in the sight of Chief Justice Jeffreys. Perhaps because my evidence had
not proved of any value! perhaps because he meant to let the matter lie,
till cast on him.

Anyhow, it was a reason of much grief, and some anger to me, and very
great anxiety, disappointment, and suspense. For here was the time of
the hay gone past, and the harvest of small corn coming on, and the
trout now rising at the yellow Sally, and the blackbirds eating our
white_heart cherries (I was sure, though I could not see them), and who
was to do any good for mother, or stop her from weeping continually? And
more than this, what was become of Lorna? Perhaps she had cast me away
altogether, as a flouter and a changeling; perhaps she had drowned
herself in the black well; perhaps (and that was worst of all) she was
even married, child as she was, to that vile Carver Doone, if the Doones
ever cared about marrying! That last thought sent me down at once to
watch for Mr. Spank again, resolved that if I could catch him, spank him
I would to a pretty good tune, although sixteen in family.

However, there was no such thing as to find him; and the usher vowed
(having orders I doubt) that he was gone to the sea for the good of his
health, having sadly overworked himself; and that none but a poor devil
like himself, who never had handling of money, would stay in London this
foul, hot weather; which was likely to bring the plague with it. Here
was another new terror for me, who had heard of the plagues of London,
and the horrible things that happened; and so going back to my lodgings
at once, I opened my clothes and sought for spots, especially as being
so long at a hairy fellmonger's; but finding none, I fell down and
thanked God for that same, and vowed to start for Oare to_morrow, with
my carbine loaded, come weal come woe, come sun come shower; though all
the parish should laugh at me, for begging my way home again, after the
brave things said of my going, as if I had been the King's cousin.

But I was saved in some degree from this lowering of my pride, and what
mattered more, of mother's; for going to buy with my last crown_piece
(after all demands were paid) a little shot and powder, more needful on
the road almost than even shoes or victuals, at the corner of the street
I met my good friend Jeremy Stickles, newly come in search of me. I took
him back to my little room__mine at least till to_morrow morning__and
told him all my story, and how much I felt aggrieved by it. But he
surprised me very much, by showing no surprise at all.

'It is the way of the world, Jack. They have gotten all they can from
thee, and why should they feed thee further? We feed not a dead pig, I
trow, but baste him well with brine and rue. Nay, we do not victual him
upon the day of killing; which they have done to thee. Thou art a lucky
man, John; thou hast gotten one day's wages, or at any rate half a day,
after thy work was rendered. God have mercy on me, John! The things I
see are manifold; and so is my regard of them. What use to insist on
this, or make a special point of that, or hold by something said of old,
when a different mood was on? I tell thee, Jack, all men are liars; and
he is the least one who presses not too hard on them for lying.'

This was all quite dark to me, for I never looked at things like that,
and never would own myself a liar, not at least to other people, nor
even to myself, although I might to God sometimes, when trouble was upon
me. And if it comes to that, no man has any right to be called a 'liar'
for smoothing over things unwitting, through duty to his neighbour.

'Five pounds thou shalt have, Jack,' said Jeremy Stickles suddenly,
while I was all abroad with myself as to being a liar or not; 'five
pounds, and I will take my chance of wringing it from that great rogue
Spank. Ten I would have made it, John, but for bad luck lately. Put back
your bits of paper, lad; I will have no acknowledgment. John Ridd, no
nonsense with me!'

For I was ready to kiss his hand, to think that any man in London (the
meanest and most suspicious place, upon all God's earth) should trust me
with five pounds, without even a receipt for it! It overcame me so that
I sobbed; for, after all, though big in body, I am but a child at heart.
It was not the five pounds that moved me, but the way of giving it; and
after so much bitter talk, the great trust in my goodness.



Lorna Doone by R. D. Blackmore Deluxe Edition Chapter 27

HOME AGAIN AT LAST

It was the beginning of wheat_harvest, when I came to Dunster town,
having walked all the way from London, and being somewhat footsore. For
though five pounds was enough to keep me in food and lodging upon the
road, and leave me many a shilling to give to far poorer travellers, it
would have been nothing for horse_hire, as I knew too well by the prices
Jeremy Stickles had paid upon our way to London. Now I never saw a
prettier town than Dunster looked that evening; for sooth to say, I had
almost lost all hope of reaching it that night, although the castle was
long in view. But being once there, my troubles were gone, at least as
regarded wayfaring; for mother's cousin, the worthy tanner (with whom we
had slept on the way to London), was in such indignation at the plight
in which I came back to him, afoot, and weary, and almost shoeless__not
to speak of upper things__that he swore then, by the mercy of God, that
if the schemes abrewing round him, against those bloody Papists, should
come to any head or shape, and show good chance of succeeding, he would
risk a thousand pounds, as though it were a penny.

I told him not to do it, because I had heard otherwise, but was not at
liberty to tell one_tenth of what I knew, and indeed had seen in London
town. But of this he took no heed, because I only nodded at him; and
he could not make it out. For it takes an old man, or at least a
middle_aged one, to nod and wink, with any power on the brains of other
men. However, I think I made him know that the bad state in which I came
to his town, and the great shame I had wrought for him among the folk
round the card_table at the Luttrell Arms, was not to be, even there,
attributed to King Charles the Second, nor even to his counsellors, but
to my own speed of travelling, which had beat post_horses. For being
much distraught in mind, and desperate in body, I had made all the way
from London to Dunster in six days, and no more. It may be one hundred
and seventy miles, I cannot tell to a furlong or two, especially as I
lost my way more than a dozen times; but at any rate there in six days
I was, and most kindly they received me. The tanner had some excellent
daughters, I forget how many; very pretty damsels, and well set up, and
able to make good pastry. But though they asked me many questions, and
made a sort of lord of me, and offered to darn my stockings (which in
truth required it), I fell asleep in the midst of them, although I would
not acknowledge it; and they said, 'Poor cousin! he is weary', and led
me to a blessed bed, and kissed me all round like swan's down.

In the morning all the Exmoor hills, the thought of which had frightened
me at the end of each day's travel, seemed no more than bushels to me,
as I looked forth the bedroom window, and thanked God for the sight of
them. And even so, I had not to climb them, at least by my own labour.
For my most worthy uncle (as we oft call a parent's cousin), finding it
impossible to keep me for the day, and owning indeed that I was right
in hastening to my mother, vowed that walk I should not, even though he
lost his Saturday hides from Minehead and from Watchett. Accordingly he
sent me forth on the very strongest nag he had, and the maidens came
to wish me God_speed, and kissed their hands at the doorway. It made
me proud and glad to think that after seeing so much of the world, and
having held my own with it, I was come once more among my own people,
and found them kinder, and more warm_hearted, ay and better looking too,
than almost any I had happened upon in the mighty city of London.

But how shall I tell you the things I felt, and the swelling of my heart
within me, as I drew nearer, and more near, to the place of all I loved
and owned, to the haunt of every warm remembrance, the nest of all the
fledgling hopes__in a word, to home? The first sheep I beheld on the
moor with a great red J.R. on his side (for mother would have them
marked with my name, instead of her own as they should have been), I do
assure you my spirit leaped, and all my sight came to my eyes. I shouted
out, 'Jem, boy!'__for that was his name, and a rare hand he was at
fighting__and he knew me in spite of the stranger horse; and I leaned
over and stroked his head, and swore he should never be mutton. And when
I was passed he set off at full gallop, to call the rest of the J.R.'s
together, and tell them young master was come home at last.

But bless your heart, and my own as well, it would take me all the
afternoon to lay before you one_tenth of the things which came home to
me in that one half_hour, as the sun was sinking, in the real way he
ought to sink. I touched my horse with no spur nor whip, feeling that my
slow wits would go, if the sights came too fast over them. Here was
the pool where we washed the sheep, and there was the hollow that oozed
away, where I had shot three wild ducks. Here was the peat_rick that hid
my dinner, when I could not go home for it, and there was the bush with
the thyme growing round it, where Annie had found a great swarm of our
bees. And now was the corner of the dry stone wall, where the moor gave
over in earnest, and the partridges whisked from it into the corn lands,
and called that their supper was ready, and looked at our house and the
ricks as they ran, and would wait for that comfort till winter.

And there I saw__but let me go__Annie was too much for me. She nearly
pulled me off my horse, and kissed the very mouth of the carbine.

'I knew you would come. Oh John! Oh John! I have waited here every
Saturday night; and I saw you for the last mile or more, but I would not
come round the corner, for fear that I should cry, John, and then not
cry when I got you. Now I may cry as much as I like, and you need
not try to stop me, John, because I am so happy. But you mustn't cry
yourself, John; what will mother think of you? She will be so jealous of
me.'

What mother thought I cannot tell; and indeed I doubt if she thought at
all for more than half an hour, but only managed to hold me tight, and
cry, and thank God now and then, but with some fear of His taking me,
if she should be too grateful. Moreover she thought it was my own
doing, and I ought to have the credit of it, and she even came down very
sharply upon John's wife, Mrs. Fry, for saying that we must not be too
proud, for all of it was the Lord's doing. However, dear mother was
ashamed of that afterwards, and asked Mrs. Fry's humble pardon; and
perhaps I ought not to have mentioned it.

Old Smiler had told them that I was coming__all the rest, I mean, except
Annie__for having escaped from his halter_ring, he was come out to graze
in the lane a bit; when what should he see but a strange horse coming
with young master and mistress upon him, for Annie must needs get up
behind me, there being only sheep to look at her. Then Smiler gave us
a stare and a neigh, with his tail quite stiff with amazement, and then
(whether in joy or through indignation) he flung up his hind feet and
galloped straight home, and set every dog wild with barking.

Now, methinks, quite enough has been said concerning this mighty return
of the young John Ridd (which was known up at Cosgate that evening), and
feeling that I cannot describe it, how can I hope that any one else will
labour to imagine it, even of the few who are able? For very few can
have travelled so far, unless indeed they whose trade it is, or very
unsettled people. And even of those who have done so, not one in a
hundred can have such a home as I had to come home to.

Mother wept again, with grief and some wrath, and so did Annie also, and
even little Eliza, and all were unsettled in loyalty, and talked about
a republic, when I told them how I had been left without money for
travelling homeward, and expected to have to beg my way, which Farmer
Snowe would have heard of. And though I could see they were disappointed
at my failure of any promotion, they all declared how glad they were,
and how much better they liked me to be no more than what they were
accustomed to. At least, my mother and Annie said so, without waiting
to hear any more; but Lizzie did not answer to it, until I had opened my
bag and shown the beautiful present I had for her. And then she kissed
me, almost like Annie, and vowed that she thought very little of
captains.

For Lizzie's present was the best of all, I mean, of course, except
Lorna's (which I carried in my breast all the way, hoping that it might
make her love me, from having lain so long, close to my heart). For I
had brought Lizzie something dear, and a precious heavy book it was,
and much beyond my understanding; whereas I knew well that to both the
others my gifts would be dear, for mine own sake. And happier people
could not be found than the whole of us were that evening.



Lorna Doone by R. D. Blackmore Deluxe Edition Chapter 28

JOHN HAS HOPE OF LORNA

Much as I longed to know more about Lorna, and though all my heart was
yearning, I could not reconcile it yet with my duty to mother and Annie,
to leave them on the following day, which happened to be a Sunday. For
lo, before breakfast was out of our mouths, there came all the men of
the farm, and their wives, and even the two crow_boys, dressed as if
going to Barnstaple fair, to inquire how Master John was, and whether
it was true that the King had made him one of his body_guard; and if
so, what was to be done with the belt for the championship of the
West_Counties wrestling, which I had held now for a year or more, and
none were ready to challenge it. Strange to say, this last point seemed
the most important of all to them; and none asked who was to manage the
farm, or answer for their wages; but all asked who was to wear the belt.

To this I replied, after shaking hands twice over all round with all
of them, that I meant to wear the belt myself, for the honour of
Oare parish, so long as ever God gave me strength and health to meet
all_comers; for I had never been asked to be body_guard, and if asked
I would never have done it. Some of them cried that the King must be
mazed, not to keep me for his protection, in these violent times of
Popery. I could have told them that the King was not in the least afraid
of Papists, but on the contrary, very fond of them; however, I held my
tongue, remembering what Judge Jeffreys bade me.

In church, the whole congregation, man, woman, and child (except,
indeed, the Snowe girls, who only looked when I was not watching),
turned on me with one accord, and stared so steadfastly, to get some
reflection of the King from me, that they forgot the time to kneel down
and the parson was forced to speak to them. If I coughed, or moved
my book, or bowed, or even said 'Amen,' glances were exchanged which
meant__'That he hath learned in London town, and most likely from His
Majesty.'

However, all this went off in time, and people became even angry with
me for not being sharper (as they said), or smarter, or a whit more
fashionable, for all the great company I had seen, and all the wondrous
things wasted upon me.

But though I may have been none the wiser by reason of my stay in
London, at any rate I was much the better in virtue of coming home
again. For now I had learned the joy of quiet, and the gratitude for
good things round us, and the love we owe to others (even those who must
be kind), for their indulgence to us. All this, before my journey, had
been too much as a matter of course to me; but having missed it now I
knew that it was a gift, and might be lost. Moreover, I had pined so
much, in the dust and heat of that great town, for trees, and fields,
and running waters, and the sounds of country life, and the air
of country winds, that never more could I grow weary of those soft
enjoyments; or at least I thought so then.

To awake as the summer sun came slanting over the hill_tops, with hope
on every beam adance to the laughter of the morning; to see the leaves
across the window ruffling on the fresh new air, and the tendrils of the
powdery vine turning from their beaded sleep. Then the lustrous meadows
far beyond the thatch of the garden_wall, yet seen beneath the hanging
scollops of the walnut_tree, all awaking, dressed in pearl, all amazed
at their own glistening, like a maid at her own ideas. Down them troop
the lowing kine, walking each with a step of character (even as men and
women do), yet all alike with toss of horns, and spread of udders ready.
From them without a word, we turn to the farm_yard proper, seen on the
right, and dryly strawed from the petty rush of the pitch_paved runnel.
Round it stand the snug out_buildings, barn, corn_chamber, cider_press,
stables, with a blinker'd horse in every doorway munching, while his
driver tightens buckles, whistles and looks down the lane, dallying
to begin his labour till the milkmaids be gone by. Here the cock
comes forth at last;__where has he been lingering?__eggs may tell
to_morrow__he claps his wings and shouts 'cock_a_doodle'; and no other
cock dare look at him. Two or three go sidling off, waiting till their
spurs be grown; and then the crowd of partlets comes, chattering how
their lord has dreamed, and crowed at two in the morning, and praying
that the old brown rat would only dare to face him. But while the cock
is crowing still, and the pullet world admiring him, who comes up but
the old turkey_cock, with all his family round him. Then the geese
at the lower end begin to thrust their breasts out, and mum their
down_bits, and look at the gander and scream shrill joy for the
conflict; while the ducks in pond show nothing but tail, in proof of
their strict neutrality.

While yet we dread for the coming event, and the fight which would jar
on the morning, behold the grandmother of sows, gruffly grunting right
and left with muzzle which no ring may tame (not being matrimonial),
hulks across between the two, moving all each side at once, and then all
of the other side as if she were chined down the middle, and afraid
of spilling the salt from her. As this mighty view of lard hides each
combatant from the other, gladly each retires and boasts how he would
have slain his neighbour, but that old sow drove the other away, and no
wonder he was afraid of her, after all the chicks she had eaten.

And so it goes on; and so the sun comes, stronger from his drink of dew;
and the cattle in the byres, and the horses from the stable, and the men
from cottage_door, each has had his rest and food, all smell alike of
hay and straw, and every one must hie to work, be it drag, or draw, or
delve.

So thought I on the Monday morning; while my own work lay before me,
and I was plotting how to quit it, void of harm to every one, and let my
love have work a little__hardest perhaps of all work, and yet as sure as
sunrise. I knew that my first day's task on the farm would be strictly
watched by every one, even by my gentle mother, to see what I had
learned in London. But could I let still another day pass, for Lorna to
think me faithless?

I felt much inclined to tell dear mother all about Lorna, and how I
loved her, yet had no hope of winning her. Often and often, I had
longed to do this, and have done with it. But the thought of my father's
terrible death, at the hands of the Doones, prevented me. And it seemed
to me foolish and mean to grieve mother, without any chance of my suit
ever speeding. If once Lorna loved me, my mother should know it; and it
would be the greatest happiness to me to have no concealment from her,
though at first she was sure to grieve terribly. But I saw no more
chance of Lorna loving me, than of the man in the moon coming down; or
rather of the moon coming down to the man, as related in old mythology.

Now the merriment of the small birds, and the clear voice of the waters,
and the lowing of cattle in meadows, and the view of no houses (except
just our own and a neighbour's), and the knowledge of everybody around,
their kindness of heart and simplicity, and love of their neighbour's
doings,__all these could not help or please me at all, and many of them
were much against me, in my secret depth of longing and dark tumult of
the mind. Many people may think me foolish, especially after coming from
London, where many nice maids looked at me (on account of my bulk and
stature), and I might have been fitted up with a sweetheart, in spite of
my west_country twang, and the smallness of my purse; if only I had
said the word. But nay; I have contempt for a man whose heart is like
a shirt_stud (such as I saw in London cards), fitted into one to_day,
sitting bravely on the breast; plucked out on the morrow morn, and the
place that knew it, gone.

Now, what did I do but take my chance; reckless whether any one heeded
me or not, only craving Lorna's heed, and time for ten words to her.
Therefore I left the men of the farm as far away as might be, after
making them work with me (which no man round our parts could do, to his
own satisfaction), and then knowing them to be well weary, very unlike
to follow me__and still more unlike to tell of me, for each had his
London present__I strode right away, in good trust of my speed, without
any more misgivings; but resolved to face the worst of it, and to try to
be home for supper.

And first I went, I know not why, to the crest of the broken highland,
whence I had agreed to watch for any mark or signal. And sure enough at
last I saw (when it was too late to see) that the white stone had been
covered over with a cloth or mantle,__the sign that something had arisen
to make Lorna want me. For a moment I stood amazed at my evil fortune;
that I should be too late, in the very thing of all things on which my
heart was set! Then after eyeing sorrowfully every crick and cranny to
be sure that not a single flutter of my love was visible, off I set,
with small respect either for my knees or neck, to make the round of the
outer cliffs, and come up my old access.

Nothing could stop me; it was not long, although to me it seemed an
age, before I stood in the niche of rock at the head of the slippery
watercourse, and gazed into the quiet glen, where my foolish heart was
dwelling. Notwithstanding doubts of right, notwithstanding sense of
duty, and despite all manly striving, and the great love of my home,
there my heart was ever dwelling, knowing what a fool it was, and
content to know it.

Many birds came twittering round me in the gold of August; many trees
showed twinkling beauty, as the sun went lower; and the lines of water
fell, from wrinkles into dimples. Little heeding, there I crouched;
though with sense of everything that afterwards should move me, like a
picture or a dream; and everything went by me softly, while my heart was
gazing.

At last, a little figure came, not insignificant (I mean), but looking
very light and slender in the moving shadows, gently here and softly
there, as if vague of purpose, with a gloss of tender movement, in and
out the wealth of trees, and liberty of the meadow. Who was I to crouch,
or doubt, or look at her from a distance; what matter if they killed me
now, and one tear came to bury me? Therefore I rushed out at once, as if
shot_guns were unknown yet; not from any real courage, but from prisoned
love burst forth.

I know not whether my own Lorna was afraid of what I looked, or what I
might say to her, or of her own thoughts of me; all I know is that she
looked frightened, when I hoped for gladness. Perhaps the power of my
joy was more than maiden liked to own, or in any way to answer to; and
to tell the truth, it seemed as if I might now forget myself; while she
would take good care of it. This makes a man grow thoughtful; unless, as
some low fellows do, he believe all women hypocrites.

Therefore I went slowly towards her, taken back in my impulse; and said
all I could come to say, with some distress in doing it.

'Mistress Lorna, I had hope that you were in need of me.'

'Oh, yes; but that was long ago; two months ago, or more, sir.' And
saying this she looked away, as if it all were over. But I was now
so dazed and frightened, that it took my breath away, and I could not
answer, feeling sure that I was robbed and some one else had won her.
And I tried to turn away, without another word, and go.

But I could not help one stupid sob, though mad with myself for allowing
it, but it came too sharp for pride to stay it, and it told a world
of things. Lorna heard it, and ran to me, with her bright eyes full of
wonder, pity, and great kindness, as if amazed that I had more than a
simple liking for her. Then she held out both hands to me; and I took
and looked at them.

'Master Ridd, I did not mean,' she whispered, very softly, 'I did not
mean to vex you.'

'If you would be loath to vex me, none else in this world can do it,' I
answered out of my great love, but fearing yet to look at her, mine eyes
not being strong enough.

'Come away from this bright place,' she answered, trembling in her turn;
'I am watched and spied of late. Come beneath the shadows, John.'

I would have leaped into the valley of the shadow of death (as described
by the late John Bunyan), only to hear her call me 'John'; though
Apollyon were lurking there, and Despair should lock me in.

She stole across the silent grass; but I strode hotly after her; fear
was all beyond me now, except the fear of losing her. I could not but
behold her manner, as she went before me, all her grace, and lovely
sweetness, and her sense of what she was.

She led me to her own rich bower, which I told of once before; and if
in spring it were a sight, what was it in summer glory? But although my
mind had notice of its fairness and its wonder, not a heed my heart took
of it, neither dwelt it in my presence more than flowing water. All
that in my presence dwelt, all that in my heart was felt, was the maiden
moving gently, and afraid to look at me.

For now the power of my love was abiding on her, new to her, unknown to
her; not a thing to speak about, nor even to think clearly; only just to
feel and wonder, with a pain of sweetness. She could look at me no more,
neither could she look away, with a studied manner__only to let fall her
eyes, and blush, and be put out with me, and still more with herself.

I left her quite alone; though close, though tingling to have hold of
her. Even her right hand was dropped and lay among the mosses. Neither
did I try to steal one glimpse below her eyelids. Life and death to me
were hanging on the first glance I should win; yet I let it be so.

After long or short__I know not, yet ere I was weary, ere I yet began
to think or wish for any answer__Lorna slowly raised her eyelids, with
a gleam of dew below them, and looked at me doubtfully. Any look with so
much in it never met my gaze before.

'Darling, do you love me?' was all that I could say to her.

'Yes, I like you very much,' she answered, with her eyes gone from me,
and her dark hair falling over, so as not to show me things.

'But do you love me, Lorna, Lorna; do you love me more than all the
world?'

'No, to be sure not. Now why should I?'

'In truth, I know not why you should. Only I hoped that you did, Lorna.
Either love me not at all, or as I love you for ever.'

'John I love you very much; and I would not grieve you. You are the
bravest, and the kindest, and the simplest of all men__I mean of all
people__I like you very much, Master Ridd, and I think of you almost
every day.'

'That will not do for me, Lorna. Not almost every day I think, but every
instant of my life, of you. For you I would give up my home, my love of
all the world beside, my duty to my dearest ones, for you I would give
up my life, and hope of life beyond it. Do you love me so?'

'Not by any means,' said Lorna; 'no, I like you very much, when you do
not talk so wildly; and I like to see you come as if you would fill our
valley up, and I like to think that even Carver would be nothing in
your hands__but as to liking you like that, what should make it likely?
especially when I have made the signal, and for some two months or more
you have never even answered it! If you like me so ferociously, why do
you leave me for other people to do just as they like with me?'

'To do as they liked! Oh, Lorna, not to make you marry Carver?'

'No, Master Ridd, be not frightened so; it makes me fear to look at
you.'

'But you have not married Carver yet? Say quick! Why keep me waiting
so?'

'Of course I have not, Master Ridd. Should I be here if I had, think
you, and allowing you to like me so, and to hold my hand, and make me
laugh, as I declare you almost do sometimes? And at other times you
frighten me.'

'Did they want you to marry Carver? Tell me all the truth of it.'

'Not yet, not yet. They are not half so impetuous as you are, John. I am
only just seventeen, you know, and who is to think of marrying? But
they wanted me to give my word, and be formally betrothed to him in the
presence of my grandfather. It seems that something frightened them.
There is a youth named Charleworth Doone, every one calls him "Charlie";
a headstrong and a gay young man, very gallant in his looks and manner;
and my uncle, the Counsellor, chose to fancy that Charlie looked at me
too much, coming by my grandfather's cottage.'

Here Lorna blushed so that I was frightened, and began to hate this
Charlie more, a great deal more, than even Carver Doone.

'He had better not,' said I; 'I will fling him over it, if he dare. He
shall see thee through the roof, Lorna, if at all he see thee.'

'Master Ridd, you are worse than Carver! I thought you were so
kind_hearted. Well, they wanted me to promise, and even to swear a
solemn oath (a thing I have never done in my life) that I would wed
my eldest cousin, this same Carver Doone, who is twice as old as I am,
being thirty_five and upwards. That was why I gave the token that I
wished to see you, Master Ridd. They pointed out how much it was for
the peace of all the family, and for mine own benefit; but I would not
listen for a moment, though the Counsellor was most eloquent, and my
grandfather begged me to consider, and Carver smiled his pleasantest,
which is a truly frightful thing. Then both he and his crafty father
were for using force with me; but Sir Ensor would not hear of it; and
they have put off that extreme until he shall be past its knowledge,
or, at least, beyond preventing it. And now I am watched, and spied, and
followed, and half my little liberty seems to be taken from me. I could
not be here speaking with you, even in my own nook and refuge, but for
the aid, and skill, and courage of dear little Gwenny Carfax. She is
now my chief reliance, and through her alone I hope to baffle all my
enemies, since others have forsaken me.'

Tears of sorrow and reproach were lurking in her soft dark eyes, until
in fewest words I told her that my seeming negligence was nothing but
my bitter loss and wretched absence far away; of which I had so vainly
striven to give any tidings without danger to her. When she heard all
this, and saw what I had brought from London (which was nothing less
than a ring of pearls with a sapphire in the midst of them, as pretty as
could well be found), she let the gentle tears flow fast, and came
and sat so close beside me, that I trembled like a folded sheep at the
bleating of her lamb. But recovering comfort quickly, without more ado,
I raised her left hand and observed it with a nice regard, wondering at
the small blue veins, and curves, and tapering whiteness, and the points
it finished with. My wonder seemed to please her much, herself so well
accustomed to it, and not fond of watching it. And then, before she
could say a word, or guess what I was up to, as quick as ever I turned
hand in a bout of wrestling, on her finger was my ring__sapphire for the
veins of blue, and pearls to match white fingers.

'Oh, you crafty Master Ridd!' said Lorna, looking up at me, and blushing
now a far brighter blush than when she spoke of Charlie; 'I thought that
you were much too simple ever to do this sort of thing. No wonder you
can catch the fish, as when first I saw you.'

'Have I caught you, little fish? Or must all my life be spent in
hopeless angling for you?'

'Neither one nor the other, John! You have not caught me yet altogether,
though I like you dearly John; and if you will only keep away, I shall
like you more and more. As for hopeless angling, John__that all others
shall have until I tell you otherwise.'

With the large tears in her eyes__tears which seemed to me to rise
partly from her want to love me with the power of my love__she put her
pure bright lips, half smiling, half prone to reply to tears, against my
forehead lined with trouble, doubt, and eager longing. And then she drew
my ring from off that snowy twig her finger, and held it out to me; and
then, seeing how my face was falling, thrice she touched it with her
lips, and sweetly gave it back to me. 'John, I dare not take it now;
else I should be cheating you. I will try to love you dearly, even as
you deserve and wish. Keep it for me just till then. Something tells me
I shall earn it in a very little time. Perhaps you will be sorry then,
sorry when it is all too late, to be loved by such as I am.'

What could I do at her mournful tone, but kiss a thousand times the hand
which she put up to warn me, and vow that I would rather die with one
assurance of her love, than without it live for ever with all beside
that the world could give? Upon this she looked so lovely, with her dark
eyelashes trembling, and her soft eyes full of light, and the colour of
clear sunrise mounting on her cheeks and brow, that I was forced to turn
away, being overcome with beauty.

'Dearest darling, love of my life,' I whispered through her clouds of
hair; 'how long must I wait to know, how long must I linger doubting
whether you can ever stoop from your birth and wondrous beauty to a
poor, coarse hind like me, an ignorant unlettered yeoman__'

'I will not have you revile yourself,' said Lorna, very tenderly__just
as I had meant to make her. 'You are not rude and unlettered, John. You
know a great deal more than I do; you have learned both Greek and Latin,
as you told me long ago, and you have been at the very best school in
the West of England. None of us but my grandfather, and the Counsellor
(who is a great scholar), can compare with you in this. And though I
have laughed at your manner of speech, I only laughed in fun, John; I
never meant to vex you by it, nor knew that it had done so.'

'Naught you say can vex me, dear,' I answered, as she leaned towards
me in her generous sorrow; 'unless you say "Begone, John Ridd; I love
another more than you."'

'Then I shall never vex you, John. Never, I mean, by saying that. Now,
John, if you please, be quiet__'

For I was carried away so much by hearing her calling me 'John' so
often, and the music of her voice, and the way she bent toward me, and
the shadow of soft weeping in the sunlight of her eyes, that some of
my great hand was creeping in a manner not to be imagined, and far
less explained, toward the lithesome, wholesome curving underneath her
mantle_fold, and out of sight and harm, as I thought; not being her
front waist. However, I was dashed with that, and pretended not to mean
it; only to pluck some lady_fern, whose elegance did me no good.

'Now, John,' said Lorna, being so quick that not even a lover could
cheat her, and observing my confusion more intently than she need have
done. 'Master John Ridd, it is high time for you to go home to your
mother. I love your mother very much from what you have told me about
her, and I will not have her cheated.'

'If you truly love my mother,' said I, very craftily 'the only way to
show it is by truly loving me.'

Upon that she laughed at me in the sweetest manner, and with such
provoking ways, and such come_and_go of glances, and beginning of quick
blushes, which she tried to laugh away, that I knew, as well as if she
herself had told me, by some knowledge (void of reasoning, and the surer
for it), I knew quite well, while all my heart was burning hot within
me, and mine eyes were shy of hers, and her eyes were shy of mine; for
certain and for ever this I knew__as in a glory__that Lorna Doone had
now begun and would go on to love me.



Lorna Doone by R. D. Blackmore Deluxe Edition Chapter 29

REAPING LEADS TO REVELLING

Although I was under interdict for two months from my darling__'one for
your sake, one for mine,' she had whispered, with her head withdrawn,
yet not so very far from me__lighter heart was not on Exmoor than I bore
for half the time, and even for three quarters. For she was safe; I knew
that daily by a mode of signals well_contrived between us now, on the
strength of our experience. 'I have nothing now to fear, John,' she had
said to me, as we parted; 'it is true that I am spied and watched, but
Gwenny is too keen for them. While I have my grandfather to prevent all
violence; and little Gwenny to keep watch on those who try to watch me;
and you, above all others, John, ready at a moment, if the worst comes
to the worst__this neglected Lorna Doone was never in such case before.
Therefore do not squeeze my hand, John; I am safe without it, and you do
not know your strength.'

Ah, I knew my strength right well. Hill and valley scarcely seemed to be
step and landing for me; fiercest cattle I would play with, making them
go backward, and afraid of hurting them, like John Fry with his terrier;
even rooted trees seemed to me but as sticks I could smite down, except
for my love of everything. The love of all things was upon me, and a
softness to them all, and a sense of having something even such as they
had.

Then the golden harvest came, waving on the broad hill_side, and
nestling in the quiet nooks scooped from out the fringe of wood. A
wealth of harvest such as never gladdened all our country_side since my
father ceased to reap, and his sickle hung to rust. There had not been
a man on Exmoor fit to work that reaping_hook since the time its owner
fell, in the prime of life and strength, before a sterner reaper. But
now I took it from the wall, where mother proudly stored it, while she
watched me, hardly knowing whether she should smile or cry.

All the parish was assembled in our upper courtyard; for we were to open
the harvest that year, as had been settled with Farmer Nicholas, and
with Jasper Kebby, who held the third or little farm. We started in
proper order, therefore, as our practice is: first, the parson Josiah
Bowden, wearing his gown and cassock, with the parish Bible in his hand,
and a sickle strapped behind him. As he strode along well and stoutly,
being a man of substance, all our family came next, I leading mother
with one hand, in the other bearing my father's hook, and with a loaf
of our own bread and a keg of cider upon my back. Behind us Annie and
Lizzie walked, wearing wreaths of corn_flowers, set out very prettily,
such as mother would have worn if she had been a farmer's wife, instead
of a farmer's widow. Being as she was, she had no adornment, except that
her widow's hood was off, and her hair allowed to flow, as if she had
been a maiden; and very rich bright hair it was, in spite of all her
troubles.

After us, the maidens came, milkmaids and the rest of them, with Betty
Muxworthy at their head, scolding even now, because they would not walk
fitly. But they only laughed at her; and she knew it was no good to
scold, with all the men behind them.

Then the Snowes came trooping forward; Farmer Nicholas in the middle,
walking as if he would rather walk to a wheatfield of his own, yet
content to follow lead, because he knew himself the leader; and signing
every now and then to the people here and there, as if I were nobody.
But to see his three great daughters, strong and handsome wenches,
making upon either side, as if somebody would run off with them__this
was the very thing that taught me how to value Lorna, and her pure
simplicity.

After the Snowes came Jasper Kebby, with his wife, new_married; and a
very honest pair they were, upon only a hundred acres, and a right of
common. After these the men came hotly, without decent order, trying to
spy the girls in front, and make good jokes about them, at which their
wives laughed heartily, being jealous when alone perhaps. And after
these men and their wives came all the children toddling, picking
flowers by the way, and chattering and asking questions, as the children
will. There must have been threescore of us, take one with another, and
the lane was full of people. When we were come to the big field_gate,
where the first sickle was to be, Parson Bowden heaved up the rail with
the sleeves of his gown done green with it; and he said that everybody
might hear him, though his breath was short, 'In the name of the Lord,
Amen!'

'Amen! So be it!' cried the clerk, who was far behind, being only a
shoemaker.

Then Parson Bowden read some verses from the parish Bible, telling us to
lift up our eyes, and look upon the fields already white to harvest;
and then he laid the Bible down on the square head of the gate_post,
and despite his gown and cassock, three good swipes he cut off corn,
and laid them right end onwards. All this time the rest were huddling
outside the gate, and along the lane, not daring to interfere with
parson, but whispering how well he did it.

When he had stowed the corn like that, mother entered, leaning on me,
and we both said, 'Thank the Lord for all His mercies, and these the
first_fruits of His hand!' And then the clerk gave out a psalm verse by
verse, done very well; although he sneezed in the midst of it, from a
beard of wheat thrust up his nose by the rival cobbler at Brendon. And
when the psalm was sung, so strongly that the foxgloves on the bank were
shaking, like a chime of bells, at it, Parson took a stoop of cider, and
we all fell to at reaping.

Of course I mean the men, not women; although I know that up the
country, women are allowed to reap; and right well they reap it, keeping
row for row with men, comely, and in due order, yet, meseems, the men
must ill attend to their own reaping_hooks, in fear lest the other cut
themselves, being the weaker vessel. But in our part, women do what
seems their proper business, following well behind the men, out of harm
of the swinging hook, and stooping with their breasts and arms up they
catch the swathes of corn, where the reapers cast them, and tucking them
together tightly with a wisp laid under them, this they fetch around and
twist, with a knee to keep it close; and lo, there is a goodly sheaf,
ready to set up in stooks! After these the children come, gathering each
for his little self, if the farmer be right_minded; until each hath a
bundle made as big as himself and longer, and tumbles now and again with
it, in the deeper part of the stubble.

We, the men, kept marching onwards down the flank of the yellow wall,
with knees bent wide, and left arm bowed and right arm flashing steel.
Each man in his several place, keeping down the rig or chine, on the
right side of the reaper in front, and the left of the man that followed
him, each making farther sweep and inroad into the golden breadth and
depth, each casting leftwards his rich clearance on his foregoer's
double track.

So like half a wedge of wildfowl, to and fro we swept the field; and
when to either hedge we came, sickles wanted whetting, and throats
required moistening, and backs were in need of easing, and every man had
much to say, and women wanted praising. Then all returned to the other
end, with reaping_hooks beneath our arms, and dogs left to mind jackets.

But now, will you believe me well, or will you only laugh at me? For
even in the world of wheat, when deep among the varnished crispness of
the jointed stalks, and below the feathered yielding of the graceful
heads, even as I gripped the swathes and swept the sickle round them,
even as I flung them by to rest on brother stubble, through the whirling
yellow world, and eagerness of reaping, came the vision of my love, as
with downcast eyes she wondered at my power of passion. And then the
sweet remembrance glowed brighter than the sun through wheat, through my
very depth of heart, of how she raised those beaming eyes, and ripened
in my breast rich hope. Even now I could descry, like high waves in the
distance, the rounded heads and folded shadows of the wood of Bagworthy.
Perhaps she was walking in the valley, and softly gazing up at them. Oh,
to be a bird just there! I could see a bright mist hanging just above
the Doone Glen. Perhaps it was shedding its drizzle upon her. Oh, to
be a drop of rain! The very breeze which bowed the harvest to my bosom
gently, might have come direct from Lorna, with her sweet voice laden.
Ah, the flaws of air that wander where they will around her, fan her
bright cheek, play with lashes, even revel in her hair and reveal her
beauties__man is but a breath, we know, would I were such breath as
that!

But confound it, while I ponder, with delicious dreams suspended, with
my right arm hanging frustrate and the giant sickle drooped, with my
left arm bowed for clasping something more germane than wheat, and my
eyes not minding business, but intent on distant woods__confound it,
what are the men about, and why am I left vapouring? They have taken
advantage of me, the rogues! They are gone to the hedge for the
cider_jars; they have had up the sledd of bread and meat, quite softly
over the stubble, and if I can believe my eyes (so dazed with Lorna's
image), they are sitting down to an excellent dinner, before the church
clock has gone eleven!

'John Fry, you big villain!' I cried, with John hanging up in the air by
the scruff of his neck_cloth, but holding still by his knife and fork,
and a goose_leg in between his lips, 'John Fry, what mean you by this,
sir?'

'Latt me dowun, or I can't tell 'e,' John answered with some difficulty.
So I let him come down, and I must confess that he had reason on his
side. 'Plaise your worship'__John called me so, ever since I returned
from London, firmly believing that the King had made me a magistrate at
least; though I was to keep it secret__'us zeed as how your worship were
took with thinkin' of King's business, in the middle of the whate_rigg:
and so uz zed, "Latt un coom to his zell, us had better zave taime, by
takking our dinner"; and here us be, praise your worship, and hopps no
offence with thick iron spoon full of vried taties.'

I was glad enough to accept the ladle full of fried batatas, and to make
the best of things, which is generally done by letting men have their
own way. Therefore I managed to dine with them, although it was so
early.

For according to all that I can find, in a long life and a varied one,
twelve o'clock is the real time for a man to have his dinner. Then the
sun is at his noon, calling halt to look around, and then the plants and
leaves are turning, each with a little leisure time, before the work of
the afternoon. Then is the balance of east and west, and then the right
and left side of a man are in due proportion, and contribute fairly
with harmonious fluids. And the health of this mode of life, and its
reclaiming virtue are well set forth in our ancient rhyme,__

Sunrise, breakfast; sun high, dinner; Sundown, sup; makes a saint of a
sinner.

Whish, the wheat falls! Whirl again; ye have had good dinners; give your
master and mistress plenty to supply another year. And in truth we did
reap well and fairly, through the whole of that afternoon, I not only
keeping lead, but keeping the men up to it. We got through a matter of
ten acres, ere the sun between the shocks broke his light on wheaten
plumes, then hung his red cloak on the clouds, and fell into grey
slumber.

Seeing this we wiped our sickles, and our breasts and foreheads, and
soon were on the homeward road, looking forward to good supper.

Of course all the reapers came at night to the harvest_supper, and
Parson Bowden to say the grace as well as to help to carve for us. And
some help was needed there, I can well assure you; for the reapers had
brave appetites, and most of their wives having babies were forced to
eat as a duty. Neither failed they of this duty; cut and come again was
the order of the evening, as it had been of the day; and I had no time
to ask questions, but help meat and ladle gravy. All the while our
darling Annie, with her sleeves tucked up, and her comely figure
panting, was running about with a bucket of taties mashed with lard and
cabbage. Even Lizzie had left her books, and was serving out beer and
cider; while mother helped plum_pudding largely on pewter_plates with
the mutton. And all the time, Betty Muxworthy was grunting in and out
everywhere, not having space to scold even, but changing the dishes,
serving the meat, poking the fire, and cooking more. But John Fry would
not stir a peg, except with his knife and fork, having all the airs of a
visitor, and his wife to keep him eating, till I thought there would be
no end of it.

Then having eaten all they could, they prepared themselves, with one
accord, for the business now of drinking. But first they lifted the neck
of corn, dressed with ribbons gaily, and set it upon the mantelpiece,
each man with his horn a_froth; and then they sang a song about it,
every one shouting in the chorus louder than harvest thunderstorm. Some
were in the middle of one verse, and some at the end of the next one;
yet somehow all managed to get together in the mighty roar of the
burden. And if any farmer up the country would like to know Exmoor
harvest_song as sung in my time and will be sung long after I am
garnered home, lo, here I set it down for him, omitting only the
dialect, which perchance might puzzle him.


       EXMOOR HARVEST_SONG

       1

     The corn, oh the corn, 'tis the ripening of the corn!
     Go unto the door, my lad, and look beneath the moon,
     Thou canst see, beyond the woodrick, how it is yelloon:
     'Tis the harvesting of wheat, and the barley must be shorn.

       (Chorus)

     The corn, oh the corn, and the yellow, mellow corn!
     Here's to the corn, with the cups upon the board!
     We've been reaping all the day, and we'll reap again the morn
     And fetch it home to mow_yard, and then we'll thank the Lord.

       2

     The wheat, oh the wheat, 'tis the ripening of the wheat!
     All the day it has been hanging down its heavy head,
     Bowing over on our bosoms with a beard of red:
     'Tis the harvest, and the value makes the labour sweet.

       (Chorus)

     The wheat, oh the wheat, and the golden, golden wheat!
     Here's to the wheat, with the loaves upon the board!
     We've been reaping all the day, and we never will be beat,
     But fetch it all to mow_yard, and then we'll thank the Lord.

       3

     The barley, oh the barley, and the barley is in prime!
     All the day it has been rustling, with its bristles brown,
     Waiting with its beard abowing, till it can be mown!
     'Tis the harvest and the barley must abide its time.

       (Chorus)

     The barley, oh the barley, and the barley ruddy brown!
     Here's to the barley, with the beer upon the board!
     We'll go amowing, soon as ever all the wheat is down;
     When all is in the mow_yard, we'll stop, and thank the Lord.

       4

     The oats, oh the oats, 'tis the ripening of the oats!
     All the day they have been dancing with their flakes of white,
     Waiting for the girding_hook, to be the nags' delight:
     'Tis the harvest, let them dangle in their skirted coats.

       (Chorus)

     The oats, oh the oats, and the silver, silver oats!
     Here's to the oats with the blackstone on the board!
     We'll go among them, when the barley has been laid in rotes:
     When all is home to mow_yard, we'll kneel and thank the Lord.

       5

     The corn, oh the corn, and the blessing of the corn!
     Come unto the door, my lads, and look beneath the moon,
     We can see, on hill and valley, how it is yelloon,
     With a breadth of glory, as when our Lord was born.

       (Chorus)

     The corn, oh the corn, and the yellow, mellow corn!
     Thanks for the corn, with our bread upon the board!
     So shall we acknowledge it, before we reap the morn,
     With our hands to heaven, and our knees unto the Lord.


Now we sang this song very well the first time, having the parish choir
to lead us, and the clarionet, and the parson to give us the time with
his cup; and we sang it again the second time, not so but what you might
praise it (if you had been with us all the evening), although the parson
was gone then, and the clerk not fit to compare with him in the matter
of keeping time. But when that song was in its third singing, I defy any
man (however sober) to have made out one verse from the other, or even
the burden from the verses, inasmuch as every man present, ay, and woman
too, sang as became convenient to them, in utterance both of words and
tune.

And in truth, there was much excuse for them; because it was a noble
harvest, fit to thank the Lord for, without His thinking us hypocrites.
For we had more land in wheat, that year, than ever we had before,
and twice the crop to the acre; and I could not help now and then
remembering, in the midst of the merriment, how my father in the
churchyard yonder would have gloried to behold it. And my mother, who
had left us now, happening to return just then, being called to have her
health drunk (for the twentieth time at least), I knew by the sadness
in her eyes that she was thinking just as I was. Presently, therefore,
I slipped away from the noise, and mirth, and smoking (although of that
last there was not much, except from Farmer Nicholas), and crossing the
courtyard in the moonlight, I went, just to cool myself, as far as my
father's tombstone.



Lorna Doone by R. D. Blackmore Deluxe Edition Chapter 30

ANNIE GETS THE BEST OF IT

I had long outgrown unwholesome feeling as to my father's death, and
so had Annie; though Lizzie (who must have loved him least) still
entertained some evil will, and longing for a punishment. Therefore I
was surprised (and indeed, startled would not be too much to say,
the moon being somewhat fleecy), to see our Annie sitting there as
motionless as the tombstone, and with all her best fallals upon her,
after stowing away the dishes.

My nerves, however, are good and strong, except at least in love
matters, wherein they always fail me, and when I meet with witches; and
therefore I went up to Annie, although she looked so white and pure;
for I had seen her before with those things on, and it struck me who she
was.

"What are you doing here, Annie?" I inquired rather sternly, being vexed
with her for having gone so very near to frighten me.

"Nothing at all," said our Annie shortly. And indeed it was truth enough
for a woman. Not that I dare to believe that women are such liars as men
say; only that I mean they often see things round the corner, and know
not which is which of it. And indeed I never have known a woman
(though right enough in their meaning) purely and perfectly true and
transparent, except only my Lorna; and even so, I might not have loved
her, if she had been ugly.

'Why, how so?' said I; 'Miss Annie, what business have you here, doing
nothing at this time of night? And leaving me with all the trouble to
entertain our guests!'

'You seem not to me to be doing it, John,' Annie answered softly; 'what
business have you here doing nothing, at this time of night?'

I was taken so aback with this, and the extreme impertinence of it, from
a mere young girl like Annie, that I turned round to march away and
have nothing more to say to her. But she jumped up, and caught me by the
hand, and threw herself upon my bosom, with her face all wet with tears.

'Oh, John, I will tell you. I will tell you. Only don't be angry, John.'

'Angry! no indeed,' said I; 'what right have I to be angry with you,
because you have your secrets? Every chit of a girl thinks now that she
has a right to her secrets.'

'And you have none of your own, John; of course you have none of your
own? All your going out at night__'

'We will not quarrel here, poor Annie,' I answered, with some loftiness;
'there are many things upon my mind, which girls can have no notion of.'

'And so there are upon mine, John. Oh, John, I will tell you everything,
if you will look at me kindly, and promise to forgive me. Oh, I am so
miserable!'

Now this, though she was behaving so badly, moved me much towards her;
especially as I longed to know what she had to tell me. Therefore I
allowed her to coax me, and to kiss me, and to lead me away a little, as
far as the old yew_tree; for she would not tell me where she was.

But even in the shadow there, she was very long before beginning, and
seemed to have two minds about it, or rather perhaps a dozen; and she
laid her cheek against the tree, and sobbed till it was pitiful; and I
knew what mother would say to her for spoiling her best frock so.

'Now will you stop?' I said at last, harder than I meant it, for I knew
that she would go on all night, if any one encouraged her: and though
not well acquainted with women, I understood my sisters; or else I must
be a born fool__except, of course, that I never professed to understand
Eliza.

'Yes, I will stop,' said Annie, panting; 'you are very hard on me, John;
but I know you mean it for the best. If somebody else__I am sure I don't
know who, and have no right to know, no doubt, but she must be a wicked
thing__if somebody else had been taken so with a pain all round the
heart, John, and no power of telling it, perhaps you would have coaxed,
and kissed her, and come a little nearer, and made opportunity to be
very loving.'

Now this was so exactly what I had tried to do to Lorna, that my breath
was almost taken away at Annie's so describing it. For a while I could
not say a word, but wondered if she were a witch, which had never been
in our family: and then, all of a sudden, I saw the way to beat her,
with the devil at my elbow.

'From your knowledge of these things, Annie, you must have had them done
to you. I demand to know this very moment who has taken such liberties.'

'Then, John, you shall never know, if you ask in that manner. Besides,
it was no liberty in the least at all, Cousins have a right to do
things__and when they are one's godfather__' Here Annie stopped quite
suddenly having so betrayed herself; but met me in the full moonlight,
being resolved to face it out, with a good face put upon it.

'Alas, I feared it would come to this,' I answered very sadly; 'I know
he has been here many a time, without showing himself to me. There is
nothing meaner than for a man to sneak, and steal a young maid's heart,
without her people knowing it.'

'You are not doing anything of that sort yourself then, dear John, are
you?'

'Only a common highwayman!' I answered, without heeding her; 'a man
without an acre of his own, and liable to hang upon any common, and no
other right of common over it__'

'John,' said my sister, 'are the Doones privileged not to be hanged upon
common land?'

At this I was so thunderstruck, that I leaped in the air like a shot
rabbit, and rushed as hard as I could through the gate and across the
yard, and back into the kitchen; and there I asked Farmer Nicholas Snowe
to give me some tobacco, and to lend me a spare pipe.

This he did with a grateful manner, being now some five_fourths gone;
and so I smoked the very first pipe that ever had entered my lips till
then; and beyond a doubt it did me good, and spread my heart at leisure.

Meanwhile the reapers were mostly gone, to be up betimes in the morning;
and some were led by their wives; and some had to lead their wives
themselves, according to the capacity of man and wife respectively. But
Betty was as lively as ever, bustling about with every one, and looking
out for the chance of groats, which the better off might be free with.
And over the kneading_pan next day, she dropped three and sixpence out
of her pocket; and Lizzie could not tell for her life how much more
might have been in it.

Now by this time I had almost finished smoking that pipe of tobacco, and
wondering at myself for having so despised it hitherto, and making up my
mind to have another trial to_morrow night, it began to occur to me that
although dear Annie had behaved so very badly and rudely, and almost
taken my breath away with the suddenness of her allusion, yet it was not
kind of me to leave her out there at that time of night, all alone, and
in such distress. Any of the reapers going home might be gotten so far
beyond fear of ghosts as to venture into the churchyard; and although
they would know a great deal better than to insult a sister of mine when
sober, there was no telling what they might do in their present state of
rejoicing. Moreover, it was only right that I should learn, for Lorna's
sake, how far Annie, or any one else, had penetrated our secret.

Therefore, I went forth at once, bearing my pipe in a skilful manner, as
I had seen Farmer Nicholas do; and marking, with a new kind of pleasure,
how the rings and wreaths of smoke hovered and fluttered in the
moonlight, like a lark upon his carol. Poor Annie was gone back again
to our father's grave, and there she sat upon the turf, sobbing very
gently, and not wishing to trouble any one. So I raised her tenderly,
and made much of her, and consoled her, for I could not scold her there;
and perhaps after all she was not to be blamed so much as Tom Faggus
himself was. Annie was very grateful to me, and kissed me many times,
and begged my pardon ever so often for her rudeness to me. And then
having gone so far with it, and finding me so complaisant, she must
needs try to go a little further, and to lead me away from her own
affairs, and into mine concerning Lorna. But although it was clever
enough of her she was not deep enough for me there; and I soon
discovered that she knew nothing, not even the name of my darling; but
only suspected from things she had seen, and put together like a woman.
Upon this I brought her back again to Tom Faggus and his doings.

'My poor Annie, have you really promised him to be his wife?'

'Then after all you have no reason, John, no particular reason, I mean,
for slighting poor Sally Snowe so?'

'Without even asking mother or me! Oh, Annie, it was wrong of you!'

'But, darling, you know that mother wishes you so much to marry Sally;
and I am sure you could have her to_morrow. She dotes on the very
ground__'

'I dare say he tells you that, Annie, that he dotes on the ground you
walk upon__but did you believe him, child?'

'You may believe me, I assure you, John, and half the farm to be settled
upon her, after the old man's time; and though she gives herself little
airs, it is only done to entice you; she has the very best hand in the
dairy John, and the lightest at a turn_over cake__'

'Now, Annie, don't talk nonsense so. I wish just to know the truth about
you and Tom Faggus. Do you mean to marry him?'

'I to marry before my brother, and leave him with none to take care of
him! Who can do him a red deer collop, except Sally herself, as I can?
Come home, dear, at once, and I will do you one; for you never ate a
morsel of supper, with all the people you had to attend upon.'

This was true enough; and seeing no chance of anything more than cross
questions and crooked purposes, at which a girl was sure to beat me,
I even allowed her to lead me home, with the thoughts of the collop
uppermost. But I never counted upon being beaten so thoroughly as I was;
for knowing me now to be off my guard, the young hussy stopped at
the farmyard gate, as if with a brier entangling her, and while I
was stooping to take it away, she looked me full in the face by the
moonlight, and jerked out quite suddenly,__

'Can your love do a collop, John?'

'No, I should hope not,' I answered rashly; 'she is not a mere cook_maid
I should hope.'

'She is not half so pretty as Sally Snowe; I will answer for that,' said
Annie.

'She is ten thousand times as pretty as ten thousand Sally Snowes,' I
replied with great indignation.

'Oh, but look at Sally's eyes!' cried my sister rapturously.

'Look at Lorna Doone's,' said I; 'and you would never look again at
Sally's.'

'Oh Lorna Doone. Lorna Doone!' exclaimed our Annie half_frightened, yet
clapping her hands with triumph, at having found me out so: 'Lorna Doone
is the lovely maiden, who has stolen poor somebody's heart so. Ah, I
shall remember it; because it is so queer a name. But stop, I had better
write it down. Lend me your hat, poor boy, to write on.'

'I have a great mind to lend you a box on the ear,' I answered her in
my vexation, 'and I would, if you had not been crying so, you sly
good_for_nothing baggage. As it is, I shall keep it for Master Faggus,
and add interest for keeping.'

'Oh no, John; oh no, John,' she begged me earnestly, being sobered in
a moment. 'Your hand is so terribly heavy, John; and he never would
forgive you; although he is so good_hearted, he cannot put up with an
insult. Promise me, dear John, that you will not strike him; and I will
promise you faithfully to keep your secret, even from mother, and even
from Cousin Tom himself.'

'And from Lizzie; most of all, from Lizzie,' I answered very eagerly,
knowing too well which of my relations would be hardest with me.

'Of course from little Lizzie,' said Annie, with some contempt; 'a
young thing like her cannot be kept too long, in my opinion, from the
knowledge of such subjects. And besides, I should be very sorry if
Lizzie had the right to know your secrets, as I have, dearest John. Not
a soul shall be the wiser for your having trusted me, John; although
I shall be very wretched when you are late away at night, among those
dreadful people.'

'Well,' I replied, 'it is no use crying over spilt milk Annie. You have
my secret, and I have yours; and I scarcely know which of the two is
likely to have the worst time of it, when it comes to mother's ears. I
could put up with perpetual scolding but not with mother's sad silence.'

'That is exactly how I feel, John.' and as Annie said it she brightened
up, and her soft eyes shone upon me; 'but now I shall be much happier,
dear; because I shall try to help you. No doubt the young lady deserves
it, John. She is not after the farm, I hope?'

'She!' I exclaimed; and that was enough, there was so much scorn in my
voice and face.

'Then, I am sure, I am very glad,' Annie always made the best of things;
'for I do believe that Sally Snowe has taken a fancy to our dairy_place,
and the pattern of our cream_pans; and she asked so much about our
meadows, and the colour of the milk__'

'Then, after all, you were right, dear Annie; it is the ground she dotes
upon.'

'And the things that walk upon it,' she answered me with another kiss;
'Sally has taken a wonderful fancy to our best cow, "Nipple_pins." But
she never shall have her now; what a consolation!'

We entered the house quite gently thus, and found Farmer Nicholas Snowe
asleep, little dreaming how his plans had been overset between us. And
then Annie said to me very slyly, between a smile and a blush,__

'Don't you wish Lorna Doone was here, John, in the parlour along with
mother; instead of those two fashionable milkmaids, as Uncle Ben will
call them, and poor stupid Mistress Kebby?'

'That indeed I do, Annie. I must kiss you for only thinking of it. Dear
me, it seems as if you had known all about us for a twelvemonth.'

'She loves you, with all her heart, John. No doubt about that of
course.' And Annie looked up at me, as much as to say she would like to
know who could help it.

'That's the very thing she won't do,' said I, knowing that Annie would
love me all the more for it, 'she is only beginning to like me, Annie;
and as for loving, she is so young that she only loves her grandfather.
But I hope she will come to it by_and_by.'

'Of course she must,' replied my sister, 'it will be impossible for her
to help it.'

'Ah well! I don't know,' for I wanted more assurance of it. 'Maidens are
such wondrous things!''

'Not a bit of it,' said Annie, casting her bright eyes downwards: 'love
is as simple as milking, when people know how to do it. But you must not
let her alone too long; that is my advice to you. What a simpleton you
must have been not to tell me long ago. I would have made Lorna wild
about you, long before this time, Johnny. But now you go into the
parlour, dear, while I do your collop. Faith Snowe is not come, but
Polly and Sally. Sally has made up her mind to conquer you this very
blessed evening, John. Only look what a thing of a scarf she has on; I
should be quite ashamed to wear it. But you won't strike poor Tom, will
you?'

'Not I, my darling, for your sweet sake.'

And so dear Annie, having grown quite brave, gave me a little push into
the parlour, where I was quite abashed to enter after all I had heard
about Sally. And I made up my mind to examine her well, and try a little
courting with her, if she should lead me on, that I might be in practice
for Lorna. But when I perceived how grandly and richly both the
young damsels were apparelled; and how, in their curtseys to me, they
retreated, as if I were making up to them, in a way they had learned
from Exeter; and how they began to talk of the Court, as if they had
been there all their lives, and the latest mode of the Duchess of this,
and the profile of the Countess of that, and the last good saying of my
Lord something; instead of butter, and cream, and eggs, and things
which they understood; I knew there must be somebody in the room besides
Jasper Kebby to talk at.

And so there was; for behind the curtain drawn across the window_seat no
less a man than Uncle Ben was sitting half asleep and weary; and by his
side a little girl very quiet and very watchful. My mother led me to
Uncle Ben, and he took my hand without rising, muttering something not
over_polite, about my being bigger than ever. I asked him heartily how
he was, and he said, 'Well enough, for that matter; but none the better
for the noise you great clods have been making.'

'I am sorry if we have disturbed you, sir,' I answered very civilly;
'but I knew not that you were here even; and you must allow for harvest
time.'

'So it seems,' he replied; 'and allow a great deal, including waste
and drunkenness. Now (if you can see so small a thing, after emptying
flagons much larger) this is my granddaughter, and my heiress'__here he
glanced at mother__'my heiress, little Ruth Huckaback.'

'I am very glad to see you, Ruth,' I answered, offering her my hand,
which she seemed afraid to take, 'welcome to Plover's Barrows, my good
cousin Ruth.'

However, my good cousin Ruth only arose, and made me a curtsey, and
lifted her great brown eyes at me, more in fear, as I thought, than
kinship. And if ever any one looked unlike the heiress to great
property, it was the little girl before me.

'Come out to the kitchen, dear, and let me chuck you to the ceiling,' I
said, just to encourage her; 'I always do it to little girls; and then
they can see the hams and bacon.' But Uncle Reuben burst out laughing;
and Ruth turned away with a deep rich colour.

'Do you know how old she is, you numskull?' said Uncle Ben, in his
dryest drawl; 'she was seventeen last July, sir.'

'On the first of July, grandfather,' Ruth whispered, with her back still
to me; 'but many people will not believe it.'

Here mother came up to my rescue, as she always loved to do; and she
said, 'If my son may not dance Miss Ruth, at any rate he may dance with
her. We have only been waiting for you, dear John, to have a little
harvest dance, with the kitchen door thrown open. You take Ruth; Uncle
Ben take Sally; Master Debby pair off with Polly; and neighbour Nicholas
will be good enough, if I can awake him, to stand up with fair Mistress
Kebby. Lizzie will play us the virginal. Won't you, Lizzie dear?'

'But who is to dance with you, madam?' Uncle Ben asked, very politely.
'I think you must rearrange your figure. I have not danced for a score
of years; and I will not dance now, while the mistress and the owner of
the harvest sits aside neglected.'

'Nay, Master Huckaback,' cried Sally Snowe, with a saucy toss of her
hair; 'Mistress Ridd is too kind a great deal, in handing you over to
me. You take her; and I will fetch Annie to be my partner this evening.
I like dancing very much better with girls, for they never squeeze and
rumple one. Oh, it is so much nicer!'

'Have no fear for me, my dears,' our mother answered smiling: 'Parson
Bowden promised to come back again; I expect him every minute; and he
intends to lead me off, and to bring a partner for Annie too, a very
pretty young gentleman. Now begin; and I will join you.'

There was no disobeying her, without rudeness; and indeed the girls'
feet were already jigging; and Lizzie giving herself wonderful airs with
a roll of learned music; and even while Annie was doing my collop,
her pretty round instep was arching itself, as I could see from the
parlour_door. So I took little Ruth, and I spun her around, as the sound
of the music came lively and ringing; and after us came all the rest
with much laughter, begging me not to jump over her; and anon my grave
partner began to smile sweetly, and look up at me with the brightest of
eyes, and drop me the prettiest curtseys; till I thought what a great
stupe I must have been to dream of putting her in the cheese_rack. But
one thing I could not at all understand; why mother, who used to do
all in her power to throw me across Sally Snowe, should now do the very
opposite; for she would not allow me one moment with Sally, not even to
cross in the dance, or whisper, or go anywhere near a corner (which as I
said, I intended to do, just by way of practice), while she kept me, all
the evening, as close as possible with Ruth Huckaback, and came up
and praised me so to Ruth, times and again, that I declare I was quite
ashamed. Although of course I knew that I deserved it all, but I could
not well say that.

Then Annie came sailing down the dance, with her beautiful hair flowing
round her; the lightest figure in all the room, and the sweetest, and
the loveliest. She was blushing, with her fair cheeks red beneath
her dear blue eyes, as she met my glance of surprise and grief at the
partner she was leaning on. It was Squire Marwood de Whichehalse. I
would sooner have seen her with Tom Faggus, as indeed I had expected,
when I heard of Parson Bowden. And to me it seemed that she had no
right to be dancing so with any other; and to this effect I contrived to
whisper; but she only said, 'See to yourself, John. No, but let us both
enjoy ourselves. You are not dancing with Lorna, John. But you seem
uncommonly happy.'

'Tush,' I said; 'could I flip about so, if I had my love with me?'



Lorna Doone by R. D. Blackmore Deluxe Edition Chapter 31

JOHN FRY'S ERRAND

We kept up the dance very late that night, mother being in such
wonderful spirits, that she would not hear of our going to bed: while
she glanced from young Squire Marwood, very deep in his talk with our
Annie, to me and Ruth Huckaback who were beginning to be very pleasant
company. Alas, poor mother, so proud as she was, how little she dreamed
that her good schemes already were hopelessly going awry!

Being forced to be up before daylight next day, in order to begin right
early, I would not go to my bedroom that night for fear of disturbing my
mother, but determined to sleep in the tallat awhile, that place being
cool, and airy, and refreshing with the smell of sweet hay. Moreover,
after my dwelling in town, where I had felt like a horse on a lime_kiln,
I could not for a length of time have enough of country life. The mooing
of a calf was music, and the chuckle of a fowl was wit, and the snore of
the horses was news to me.

'Wult have thee own wai, I reckon,' said Betty, being cross with
sleepiness, for she had washed up everything; 'slape in hog_pound, if
thee laikes, Jan.'

Letting her have the last word of it (as is the due of women) I stood in
the court, and wondered awhile at the glory of the harvest moon, and the
yellow world it shone upon. Then I saw, as sure as ever I was standing
there in the shadow of the stable, I saw a short wide figure glide
across the foot of the courtyard, between me and the six_barred gate.
Instead of running after it, as I should have done, I began to consider
who it could be, and what on earth was doing there, when all our people
were in bed, and the reapers gone home, or to the linhay close against
the wheatfield.

Having made up my mind at last, that it could be none of our
people__though not a dog was barking__and also that it must have been
either a girl or a woman, I ran down with all speed to learn what might
be the meaning of it. But I came too late to learn, through my own
hesitation, for this was the lower end of the courtyard, not the
approach from the parish highway, but the end of the sledd_way, across
the fields where the brook goes down to the Lynn stream, and where
Squire Faggus had saved the old drake. And of course the dry channel
of the brook, being scarcely any water now, afforded plenty of place to
hide, leading also to a little coppice, beyond our cabbage_garden, and
so further on to the parish highway.

I saw at once that it was vain to make any pursuit by moonlight; and
resolving to hold my own counsel about it (though puzzled not a
little) and to keep watch there another night, back I returned to the
tallatt_ladder, and slept without leaving off till morning.

Now many people may wish to know, as indeed I myself did very greatly,
what had brought Master Huckaback over from Dulverton, at that time of
year, when the clothing business was most active on account of harvest
wages, and when the new wheat was beginning to sample from the early
parts up the country (for he meddled as well in corn_dealing) and when
we could not attend to him properly by reason of our occupation. And
yet more surprising it seemed to me that he should have brought his
granddaughter also, instead of the troop of dragoons, without which
he had vowed he would never come here again. And how he had managed to
enter the house together with his granddaughter, and be sitting quite at
home in the parlour there, without any knowledge or even suspicion on
my part. That last question was easily solved, for mother herself had
admitted them by means of the little passage, during a chorus of the
harvest_song which might have drowned an earthquake: but as for his
meaning and motive, and apparent neglect of his business, none but
himself could interpret them; and as he did not see fit to do so, we
could not be rude enough to inquire.

He seemed in no hurry to take his departure, though his visit was so
inconvenient to us, as himself indeed must have noticed: and presently
Lizzie, who was the sharpest among us, said in my hearing that she
believed he had purposely timed his visit so that he might have liberty
to pursue his own object, whatsoever it were, without interruption
from us. Mother gazed hard upon Lizzie at this, having formed a very
different opinion; but Annie and myself agreed that it was worth looking
into.

Now how could we look into it, without watching Uncle Reuben, whenever
he went abroad, and trying to catch him in his speech, when he was
taking his ease at night. For, in spite of all the disgust with which
he had spoken of harvest wassailing, there was not a man coming into
our kitchen who liked it better than he did; only in a quiet way, and
without too many witnesses. Now to endeavour to get at the purpose of
any guest, even a treacherous one (which we had no right to think Uncle
Reuben) by means of observing him in his cups, is a thing which even the
lowest of people would regard with abhorrence. And to my mind it was not
clear whether it would be fair_play at all to follow a visitor even at a
distance from home and clear of our premises; except for the purpose of
fetching him back, and giving him more to go on with. Nevertheless we
could not but think, the times being wild and disjointed, that Uncle
Ben was not using fairly the part of a guest in our house, to make long
expeditions we knew not whither, and involve us in trouble we knew not
what.

For his mode was directly after breakfast to pray to the Lord a little
(which used not to be his practice), and then to go forth upon Dolly,
the which was our Annie's pony, very quiet and respectful, with a bag of
good victuals hung behind him, and two great cavalry pistols in front.
And he always wore his meanest clothes as if expecting to be robbed,
or to disarm the temptation thereto; and he never took his golden
chronometer neither his bag of money. So much the girls found out and
told me (for I was never at home myself by day); and they very craftily
spurred me on, having less noble ideas perhaps, to hit upon Uncle
Reuben's track, and follow, and see what became of him. For he never
returned until dark or more, just in time to be in before us, who were
coming home from the harvest. And then Dolly always seemed very weary,
and stained with a muck from beyond our parish.

But I refused to follow him, not only for the loss of a day's work to
myself, and at least half a day to the other men, but chiefly because I
could not think that it would be upright and manly. It was all very
well to creep warily into the valley of the Doones, and heed everything
around me, both because they were public enemies, and also because I
risked my life at every step I took there. But as to tracking a feeble
old man (however subtle he might be), a guest moreover of our own, and
a relative through my mother.__'Once for all,' I said, 'it is below me,
and I won't do it.'

Thereupon, the girls, knowing my way, ceased to torment me about it: but
what was my astonishment the very next day to perceive that instead of
fourteen reapers, we were only thirteen left, directly our breakfast
was done with__or mowers rather I should say, for we were gone into the
barley now.

'Who has been and left his scythe?' I asked; 'and here's a tin cup never
been handled!'

'Whoy, dudn't ee knaw, Maister Jan,' said Bill Dadds, looking at me
queerly, 'as Jan Vry wur gane avore braxvass.'

'Oh, very well,' I answered, 'John knows what he is doing.' For John
Fry was a kind of foreman now, and it would not do to say anything that
might lessen his authority. However, I made up my mind to rope him, when
I should catch him by himself, without peril to his dignity.

But when I came home in the evening, late and almost weary, there was no
Annie cooking my supper, nor Lizzie by the fire reading, nor even little
Ruth Huckaback watching the shadows and pondering. Upon this, I went to
the girls' room, not in the very best of tempers, and there I found all
three of them in the little place set apart for Annie, eagerly listening
to John Fry, who was telling some great adventure. John had a great jug
of ale beside him, and a horn well drained; and he clearly looked upon
himself as a hero, and the maids seemed to be of the same opinion.

'Well done, John,' my sister was saying, 'capitally done, John Fry. How
very brave you have been, John. Now quick, let us hear the rest of it.'

'What does all this nonsense mean?' I said, in a voice which frightened
them, as I could see by the light of our own mutton candles: 'John Fry,
you be off to your wife at once, or you shall have what I owe you now,
instead of to_morrow morning.'

John made no answer, but scratched his head, and looked at the maidens
to take his part.

'It is you that must be off, I think,' said Lizzie, looking straight at
me with all the impudence in the world; 'what right have you to come in
here to the young ladies' room, without an invitation even?'

'Very well, Miss Lizzie, I suppose mother has some right here.' And with
that, I was going away to fetch her, knowing that she always took my
side, and never would allow the house to be turned upside down in that
manner. But Annie caught hold of me by the arm, and little Ruth stood in
the doorway; and Lizzie said, 'Don't be a fool, John. We know things of
you, you know; a great deal more than you dream of.'

Upon this I glanced at Annie, to learn whether she had been telling,
but her pure true face reassured me at once, and then she said very
gently,__

'Lizzie, you talk too fast, my child. No one knows anything of our John
which he need be ashamed of; and working as he does from light to dusk,
and earning the living of all of us, he is entitled to choose his own
good time for going out and for coming in, without consulting a little
girl five years younger than himself. Now, John, sit down, and you shall
know all that we have done, though I doubt whether you will approve of
it.'

Upon this I kissed Annie, and so did Ruth; and John Fry looked a deal
more comfortable, but Lizzie only made a face at us. Then Annie began as
follows:__

'You must know, dear John, that we have been extremely curious, ever
since Uncle Reuben came, to know what he was come for, especially at
this time of year, when he is at his busiest. He never vouchsafed any
explanation, neither gave any reason, true or false, which shows his
entire ignorance of all feminine nature. If Ruth had known, and refused
to tell us, we should have been much easier, because we must have got it
out of Ruth before two or three days were over. But darling Ruth knew no
more than we did, and indeed I must do her the justice to say that she
has been quite as inquisitive. Well, we might have put up with it, if it
had not been for his taking Dolly, my own pet Dolly, away every morning,
quite as if she belonged to him, and keeping her out until close upon
dark, and then bringing her home in a frightful condition. And he even
had the impudence, when I told him that Dolly was my pony, to say that
we owed him a pony, ever since you took from him that little horse upon
which you found him strapped so snugly; and he means to take Dolly to
Dulverton with him, to run in his little cart. If there is law in the
land he shall not. Surely, John, you will not let him?'

'That I won't,' said I, 'except upon the conditions which I offered him
once before. If we owe him the pony, we owe him the straps.'

Sweet Annie laughed, like a bell, at this, and then she went on with her
story.

'Well, John, we were perfectly miserable. You cannot understand it, of
course; but I used to go every evening, and hug poor Dolly, and kiss
her, and beg her to tell me where she had been, and what she had seen,
that day. But never having belonged to Balaam, darling Dolly was quite
unsuccessful, though often she strove to tell me, with her ears down,
and both eyes rolling. Then I made John Fry tie her tail in a knot, with
a piece of white ribbon, as if for adornment, that I might trace her
among the hills, at any rate for a mile or two. But Uncle Ben was too
deep for that; he cut off the ribbon before he started, saying he
would have no Doones after him. And then, in despair, I applied to you,
knowing how quick of foot you are, and I got Ruth and Lizzie to help me,
but you answered us very shortly; and a very poor supper you had that
night, according to your deserts.

'But though we were dashed to the ground for a time, we were not wholly
discomfited. Our determination to know all about it seemed to increase
with the difficulty. And Uncle Ben's manner last night was so dry,
when we tried to romp and to lead him out, that it was much worse than
Jamaica ginger grated into a poor sprayed finger. So we sent him to
bed at the earliest moment, and held a small council upon him. If
you remember you, John, having now taken to smoke (which is a hateful
practice), had gone forth grumbling about your bad supper and not taking
it as a good lesson.'

'Why, Annie,' I cried, in amazement at this, 'I will never trust you
again for a supper. I thought you were so sorry.'

'And so I was, dear; very sorry. But still we must do our duty. And when
we came to consider it, Ruth was the cleverest of us all; for she said
that surely we must have some man we could trust about the farm to go
on a little errand; and then I remembered that old John Fry would do
anything for money.'

'Not for money, plaize, miss,' said John Fry, taking a pull at the beer;
'but for the love of your swate face.'

'To be sure, John; with the King's behind it. And so Lizzie ran for John
Fry at once, and we gave him full directions, how he was to slip out of
the barley in the confusion of the breakfast, so that none might miss
him; and to run back to the black combe bottom, and there he would find
the very same pony which Uncle Ben had been tied upon, and there is no
faster upon the farm. And then, without waiting for any breakfast unless
he could eat it either running or trotting, he was to travel all up the
black combe, by the track Uncle Reuben had taken, and up at the top to
look forward carefully, and so to trace him without being seen.'

'Ay; and raight wull a doo'd un,' John cried, with his mouth in the
bullock's horn.

'Well, and what did you see, John?' I asked, with great anxiety; though
I meant to have shown no interest.

'John was just at the very point of it,' Lizzie answered me sharply,
'when you chose to come in and stop him.'

'Then let him begin again,' said I; 'things being gone so far, it is now
my duty to know everything, for the sake of you girls and mother.'

'Hem!' cried Lizzie, in a nasty way; but I took no notice of her, for
she was always bad to deal with. Therefore John Fry began again, being
heartily glad to do so, that his story might get out of the tumble which
all our talk had made in it. But as he could not tell a tale in
the manner of my Lorna (although he told it very well for those who
understood him) I will take it from his mouth altogether, and state in
brief what happened.

When John, upon his forest pony, which he had much ado to hold (its
mouth being like a bucket), was come to the top of the long black combe,
two miles or more from Plover's Barrows, and winding to the southward,
he stopped his little nag short of the crest, and got off and looked
ahead of him, from behind a tump of whortles. It was a long flat sweep
of moorland over which he was gazing, with a few bogs here and there,
and brushy places round them. Of course, John Fry, from his shepherd
life and reclaiming of strayed cattle, knew as well as need be where he
was, and the spread of the hills before him, although it was beyond our
beat, or, rather, I should say, beside it. Not but what we might have
grazed there had it been our pleasure, but that it was not worth our
while, and scarcely worth Jasper Kebby's even; all the land being
cropped (as one might say) with desolation. And nearly all our knowledge
of it sprang from the unaccountable tricks of cows who have young calves
with them; at which time they have wild desire to get away from the
sight of man, and keep calf and milk for one another, although it be
in a barren land. At least, our cows have gotten this trick, and I have
heard other people complain of it.

John Fry, as I said, knew the place well enough, but he liked it none
the more for that, neither did any of our people; and, indeed, all
the neighbourhood of Thomshill and Larksborough, and most of all Black
Barrow Down lay under grave imputation of having been enchanted with a
very evil spell. Moreover, it was known, though folk were loath to speak
of it, even on a summer morning, that Squire Thom, who had been murdered
there, a century ago or more, had been seen by several shepherds, even
in the middle day, walking with his severed head carried in his left
hand, and his right arm lifted towards the sun.

Therefore it was very bold in John (as I acknowledged) to venture across
that moor alone, even with a fast pony under him, and some whisky by
his side. And he would never have done so (of that I am quite certain),
either for the sake of Annie's sweet face, or of the golden guinea,
which the three maidens had subscribed to reward his skill and valour.
But the truth was that he could not resist his own great curiosity. For,
carefully spying across the moor, from behind the tuft of whortles, at
first he could discover nothing having life and motion, except three or
four wild cattle roving in vain search for nourishment, and a diseased
sheep banished hither, and some carrion crows keeping watch on her. But
when John was taking his very last look, being only too glad to go
home again, and acknowledge himself baffled, he thought he saw a figure
moving in the farthest distance upon Black Barrow Down, scarcely a thing
to be sure of yet, on account of the want of colour. But as he watched,
the figure passed between him and a naked cliff, and appeared to be a
man on horseback, making his way very carefully, in fear of bogs and
serpents. For all about there it is adders' ground, and large black
serpents dwell in the marshes, and can swim as well as crawl.

John knew that the man who was riding there could be none but Uncle
Reuben, for none of the Doones ever passed that way, and the shepherds
were afraid of it. And now it seemed an unkind place for an unarmed man
to venture through, especially after an armed one who might not like
to be spied upon, and must have some dark object in visiting such drear
solitudes. Nevertheless John Fry so ached with unbearable curiosity to
know what an old man, and a stranger, and a rich man, and a peaceable
could possibly be after in that mysterious manner. Moreover, John so
throbbed with hope to find some wealthy secret, that come what would of
it he resolved to go to the end of the matter.

Therefore he only waited awhile for fear of being discovered, till
Master Huckaback turned to the left and entered a little gully, whence
he could not survey the moor. Then John remounted and crossed the rough
land and the stony places, and picked his way among the morasses as fast
as ever he dared to go; until, in about half an hour, he drew nigh the
entrance of the gully. And now it behoved him to be most wary; for Uncle
Ben might have stopped in there, either to rest his horse or having
reached the end of his journey. And in either case, John had little
doubt that he himself would be pistolled, and nothing more ever heard
of him. Therefore he made his pony come to the mouth of it sideways,
and leaned over and peered in around the rocky corner, while the little
horse cropped at the briars.

But he soon perceived that the gully was empty, so far at least as its
course was straight; and with that he hastened into it, though his heart
was not working easily. When he had traced the winding hollow for half
a mile or more, he saw that it forked, and one part led to the left up
a steep red bank, and the other to the right, being narrow and slightly
tending downwards. Some yellow sand lay here and there between the
starving grasses, and this he examined narrowly for a trace of Master
Huckaback.

At last he saw that, beyond all doubt, the man he was pursuing had taken
the course which led down hill; and down the hill he must follow him.
And this John did with deep misgivings, and a hearty wish that he had
never started upon so perilous an errand. For now he knew not where he
was, and scarcely dared to ask himself, having heard of a horrible hole,
somewhere in this neighbourhood, called the Wizard's Slough. Therefore
John rode down the slope, with sorrow, and great caution. And these grew
more as he went onward, and his pony reared against him, being scared,
although a native of the roughest moorland. And John had just made up
his mind that God meant this for a warning, as the passage seemed darker
and deeper, when suddenly he turned a corner, and saw a scene which
stopped him.

For there was the Wizard's Slough itself, as black as death, and
bubbling, with a few scant yellow reeds in a ring around it. Outside
these, bright water_grass of the liveliest green was creeping, tempting
any unwary foot to step, and plunge, and founder. And on the marge
were blue campanula, sundew, and forget_me_not, such as no child could
resist. On either side, the hill fell back, and the ground was
broken with tufts of rush, and flag, and mares_tail, and a few rough
alder_trees overclogged with water. And not a bird was seen or heard,
neither rail nor water_hen, wag_tail nor reed_warbler.

Of this horrible quagmire, the worst upon all Exmoor, John had heard
from his grandfather, and even from his mother, when they wanted to keep
him quiet; but his father had feared to speak of it to him, being a man
of piety, and up to the tricks of the evil one. This made John the more
desirous to have a good look at it now, only with his girths well up,
to turn away and flee at speed, if anything should happen. And now
he proved how well it is to be wary and wide_awake, even in lonesome
places. For at the other side of the Slough, and a few land_yards beyond
it, where the ground was less noisome, he had observed a felled tree
lying over a great hole in the earth, with staves of wood, and slabs of
stone, and some yellow gravel around it. But the flags of reeds around
the morass partly screened it from his eyes, and he could not make
out the meaning of it, except that it meant no good, and probably was
witchcraft. Yet Dolly seemed not to be harmed by it, for there she was
as large as life, tied to a stump not far beyond, and flipping the flies
away with her tail.

While John was trembling within himself, lest Dolly should get scent of
his pony, and neigh and reveal their presence, although she could not
see them, suddenly to his great amazement something white arose out of
the hole, under the brown trunk of the tree. Seeing this his blood went
back within him, yet he was not able to turn and flee, but rooted his
face in among the loose stones, and kept his quivering shoulders back,
and prayed to God to protect him. However, the white thing itself was
not so very awful, being nothing more than a long_coned night_cap with a
tassel on the top, such as criminals wear at hanging_time. But when John
saw a man's face under it, and a man's neck and shoulders slowly rising
out of the pit, he could not doubt that this was the place where the
murderers come to life again, according to the Exmoor story. He knew
that a man had been hanged last week, and that this was the ninth day
after it.

Therefore he could bear no more, thoroughly brave as he had been,
neither did he wait to see what became of the gallows_man; but climbed
on his horse with what speed he might, and rode away at full gallop.
Neither did he dare go back by the way he came, fearing to face Black
Barrow Down! therefore he struck up the other track leading away towards
Cloven Rocks, and after riding hard for an hour and drinking all
his whisky, he luckily fell in with a shepherd, who led him on to a
public_house somewhere near Exeford. And here he was so unmanned, the
excitement being over, that nothing less than a gallon of ale and half
a gammon of bacon, brought him to his right mind again. And he took good
care to be home before dark, having followed a well_known sheep track.

When John Fry finished his story at last, after many exclamations from
Annie, and from Lizzie, and much praise of his gallantry, yet some
little disappointment that he had not stayed there a little longer,
while he was about it, so as to be able to tell us more, I said to him
very sternly,__

'Now, John, you have dreamed half this, my man. I firmly believe that
you fell asleep at the top of the black combe, after drinking all your
whisky, and never went on the moor at all. You know what a liar you are,
John.'

The girls were exceedingly angry at this, and laid their hands before
my mouth; but I waited for John to answer, with my eyes fixed upon him
steadfastly.

'Bain't for me to denai,' said John, looking at me very honestly, 'but
what a maight tull a lai, now and awhiles, zame as other men doth, and
most of arl them as spaks again it; but this here be no lai, Maister
Jan. I wush to God it wor, boy: a maight slape this naight the better.'

'I believe you speak the truth, John; and I ask your pardon. Now not a
word to any one, about this strange affair. There is mischief brewing, I
can see; and it is my place to attend to it. Several things come across
me now__only I will not tell you.'


They were not at all contented with this; but I would give them no
better; except to say, when they plagued me greatly, and vowed to sleep
at my door all night,__

'Now, my dears, this is foolish of you. Too much of this matter is known
already. It is for your own dear sakes that I am bound to be cautious.
I have an opinion of my own; but it may be a very wrong one; I will not
ask you to share it with me; neither will I make you inquisitive.'

Annie pouted, and Lizzie frowned, and Ruth looked at me with her eyes
wide open, but no other mark of regarding me. And I saw that if any one
of the three (for John Fry was gone home with the trembles) could be
trusted to keep a secret, that one was Ruth Huckaback.



Lorna Doone by R. D. Blackmore Deluxe Edition Chapter 32

FEEDING OF THE PIGS

The story told by John Fry that night, and my conviction of its truth,
made me very uneasy, especially as following upon the warning of Judge
Jeffreys, and the hints received from Jeremy Stickles, and the outburst
of the tanner at Dunster, as well as sundry tales and rumours, and signs
of secret understanding, seen and heard on market_days, and at places of
entertainment. We knew for certain that at Taunton, Bridgwater, and even
Dulverton, there was much disaffection towards the King, and regret for
the days of the Puritans. Albeit I had told the truth, and the pure and
simple truth, when, upon my examination, I had assured his lordship,
that to the best of my knowledge there was nothing of the sort with us.

But now I was beginning to doubt whether I might not have been mistaken;
especially when we heard, as we did, of arms being landed at Lynmouth,
in the dead of the night, and of the tramp of men having reached some
one's ears, from a hill where a famous echo was. For it must be plain to
any conspirator (without the example of the Doones) that for the secret
muster of men and the stowing of unlawful arms, and communication by
beacon lights, scarcely a fitter place could be found than the wilds
of Exmoor, with deep ravines running far inland from an unwatched and
mostly a sheltered sea. For the Channel from Countisbury Foreland up
to Minehead, or even farther, though rocky, and gusty, and full of
currents, is safe from great rollers and the sweeping power of the
south_west storms, which prevail with us more than all the others, and
make sad work on the opposite coast.

But even supposing it probable that something against King Charles
the Second (or rather against his Roman advisers, and especially his
brother) were now in preparation amongst us, was it likely that Master
Huckaback, a wealthy man, and a careful one, known moreover to the Lord
Chief Justice, would have anything to do with it? To this I could
make no answer; Uncle Ben was so close a man, so avaricious, and so
revengeful, that it was quite impossible to say what course he
might pursue, without knowing all the chances of gain, or rise, or
satisfaction to him. That he hated the Papists I knew full well, though
he never spoke much about them; also that he had followed the march of
Oliver Cromwell's army, but more as a suttler (people said) than as a
real soldier; and that he would go a long way, and risk a great deal
of money, to have his revenge on the Doones; although their name never
passed his lips during the present visit.

But how was it likely to be as to the Doones themselves? Which side
would they probably take in the coming movement, if movement indeed it
would be? So far as they had any religion at all, by birth they were
Roman Catholics__so much I knew from Lorna; and indeed it was well known
all around, that a priest had been fetched more than once to the valley,
to soothe some poor outlaw's departure. On the other hand, they were
not likely to entertain much affection for the son of the man who had
banished them and confiscated their property. And it was not at all
impossible that desperate men, such as they were, having nothing to
lose, but estates to recover, and not being held by religion much,
should cast away all regard for the birth from which they had been cast
out, and make common cause with a Protestant rising, for the chance of
revenge and replacement.

However I do not mean to say that all these things occurred to me as
clearly as I have set them down; only that I was in general doubt, and
very sad perplexity. For mother was so warm, and innocent, and kind
so to every one, that knowing some little by this time of the English
constitution, I feared very greatly lest she should be punished for
harbouring malcontents. As well as possible I knew, that if any poor man
came to our door, and cried, 'Officers are after me; for God's sake take
and hide me,' mother would take him in at once, and conceal, and feed
him, even though he had been very violent; and, to tell the truth, so
would both my sisters, and so indeed would I do. Whence it will be clear
that we were not the sort of people to be safe among disturbances.

Before I could quite make up my mind how to act in this difficulty, and
how to get at the rights of it (for I would not spy after Uncle Reuben,
though I felt no great fear of the Wizard's Slough, and none of the man
with the white night_cap), a difference came again upon it, and a change
of chances. For Uncle Ben went away as suddenly as he first had come to
us, giving no reason for his departure, neither claiming the pony, and
indeed leaving something behind him of great value to my mother. For
he begged her to see to his young grand_daughter, until he could find
opportunity of fetching her safely to Dulverton. Mother was overjoyed
at this, as she could not help displaying; and Ruth was quite as much
delighted, although she durst not show it. For at Dulverton she had
to watch and keep such ward on the victuals, and the in and out of the
shopmen, that it went entirely against her heart, and she never could
enjoy herself. Truly she was an altered girl from the day she came to
us; catching our unsuspicious manners, and our free goodwill, and hearty
noise of laughing.

By this time, the harvest being done, and the thatching of the ricks
made sure against south_western tempests, and all the reapers being
gone, with good money and thankfulness, I began to burn in spirit for
the sight of Lorna. I had begged my sister Annie to let Sally Snowe
know, once for all, that it was not in my power to have any thing more
to do with her. Of course our Annie was not to grieve Sally, neither to
let it appear for a moment that I suspected her kind views upon me, and
her strong regard for our dairy: only I thought it right upon our part
not to waste Sally's time any longer, being a handsome wench as she was,
and many young fellows glad to marry her.

And Annie did this uncommonly well, as she herself told me afterwards,
having taken Sally in the sweetest manner into her pure confidence, and
opened half her bosom to her, about my very sad love affair. Not that
she let Sally know, of course, who it was, or what it was; only that she
made her understand, without hinting at any desire of it, that there was
no chance now of having me. Sally changed colour a little at this, and
then went on about a red cow which had passed seven needles at milking
time.

Inasmuch as there are two sorts of month well recognised by the
calendar, to wit the lunar and the solar, I made bold to regard both
my months, in the absence of any provision, as intended to be strictly
lunar. Therefore upon the very day when the eight weeks were expiring
forth I went in search of Lorna, taking the pearl ring hopefully, and
all the new_laid eggs I could find, and a dozen and a half of small
trout from our brook. And the pleasure it gave me to catch those trout,
thinking as every one came forth and danced upon the grass, how much
she would enjoy him, is more than I can now describe, although I well
remember it. And it struck me that after accepting my ring, and saying
how much she loved me, it was possible that my Queen might invite
me even to stay and sup with her: and so I arranged with dear Annie
beforehand, who was now the greatest comfort to me, to account for my
absence if I should be late.

But alas, I was utterly disappointed; for although I waited and waited
for hours, with an equal amount both of patience and peril, no Lorna
ever appeared at all, nor even the faintest sign of her. And another
thing occurred as well, which vexed me more than it need have done, for
so small a matter. And this was that my little offering of the trout
and the new_laid eggs was carried off in the coolest manner by that vile
Carver Doone. For thinking to keep them the fresher and nicer, away from
so much handling, I laid them in a little bed of reeds by the side of
the water, and placed some dog_leaves over them. And when I had quite
forgotten about them, and was watching from my hiding_place beneath
the willow_tree (for I liked not to enter Lorna's bower, without her
permission; except just to peep that she was not there), and while I was
turning the ring in my pocket, having just seen the new moon, I
became aware of a great man coming eisurely down the valley. He had a
broad_brimmed hat, and a leather jerkin, and heavy jack_boots to his
middle thigh, and what was worst of all for me, on his shoulder he bore
a long carbine. Having nothing to meet him withal but my staff, and
desiring to avoid disturbance, I retired promptly into the chasm,
keeping the tree betwixt us that he might not descry me, and watching
from behind the jut of a rock, where now I had scraped myself a neat
little hole for the purpose.

Presently the great man reappeared, being now within fifty yards of me,
and the light still good enough, as he drew nearer for me to descry
his features: and though I am not a judge of men's faces, there was
something in his which turned me cold, as though with a kind of horror.
Not that it was an ugly face; nay, rather it seemed a handsome one, so
far as mere form and line might go, full of strength, and vigour, and
will, and steadfast resolution. From the short black hair above the
broad forehead, to the long black beard descending below the curt, bold
chin, there was not any curve or glimpse of weakness or of afterthought.
Nothing playful, nothing pleasant, nothing with a track of smiles;
nothing which a friend could like, and laugh at him for having. And
yet he might have been a good man (for I have known very good men so
fortified by their own strange ideas of God): I say that he might
have seemed a good man, but for the cold and cruel hankering of his
steel_blue eyes.

Now let no one suppose for a minute that I saw all this in a moment; for
I am very slow, and take a long time to digest things; only I like to
set down, and have done with it, all the results of my knowledge, though
they be not manifold. But what I said to myself, just then, was no more
than this: 'What a fellow to have Lorna!' Having my sense of right so
outraged (although, of course, I would never allow her to go so far as
that), I almost longed that he might thrust his head in to look after
me. For there I was, with my ash staff clubbed, ready to have at him,
and not ill inclined to do so; if only he would come where strength, not
firearms, must decide it. However, he suspected nothing of my dangerous
neighbourhood, but walked his round like a sentinel, and turned at the
brink of the water.

Then as he marched back again, along the margin of the stream, he espied
my little hoard, covered up with dog_leaves. He saw that the leaves were
upside down, and this of course drew his attention. I saw him stoop,
and lay bare the fish, and the eggs set a little way from them and in
my simple heart, I thought that now he knew all about me. But to my
surprise, he seemed well_pleased; and his harsh short laughter came to
me without echo,__

'Ha, ha! Charlie boy! Fisherman Charlie, have I caught thee setting
bait for Lorna? Now, I understand thy fishings, and the robbing of
Counsellor's hen roost. May I never have good roasting, if I have it not
to_night and roast thee, Charlie, afterwards!'

With this he calmly packed up my fish, and all the best of dear Annie's
eggs; and went away chuckling steadfastly, to his home, if one may
call it so. But I was so thoroughly grieved and mortified by this most
impudent robbery, that I started forth from my rocky screen with the
intention of pursuing him, until my better sense arrested me, barely
in time to escape his eyes. For I said to myself, that even supposing
I could contend unarmed with him, it would be the greatest folly in the
world to have my secret access known, and perhaps a fatal barrier placed
between Lorna and myself, and I knew not what trouble brought upon her,
all for the sake of a few eggs and fishes. It was better to bear this
trifling loss, however ignominious and goading to the spirit, than to
risk my love and Lorna's welfare, and perhaps be shot into the bargain.
And I think that all will agree with me, that I acted for the wisest, in
withdrawing to my shelter, though deprived of eggs and fishes.

Having waited (as I said) until there was no chance whatever of my love
appearing, I hastened homeward very sadly; and the wind of early autumn
moaned across the moorland. All the beauty of the harvest, all the
gaiety was gone, and the early fall of dusk was like a weight upon
me. Nevertheless, I went every evening thenceforward for a fortnight;
hoping, every time in vain to find my hope and comfort. And meanwhile,
what perplexed me most was that the signals were replaced, in order as
agreed upon, so that Lorna could scarcely be restrained by any rigour.

One time I had a narrow chance of being shot and settled with; and
it befell me thus. I was waiting very carelessly, being now a little
desperate, at the entrance to the glen, instead of watching through my
sight_hole, as the proper practice was. Suddenly a ball went by me, with
a whizz and whistle, passing through my hat and sweeping it away all
folded up. My soft hat fluttered far down the stream, before I had time
to go after it, and with the help of both wind and water, was fifty
yards gone in a moment. At this I had just enough mind left to shrink
back very suddenly, and lurk very still and closely; for I knew what
a narrow escape it had been, as I heard the bullet, hard set by the
powder, sing mournfully down the chasm, like a drone banished out of the
hive. And as I peered through my little cranny, I saw a wreath of smoke
still floating where the thickness was of the withy_bed; and presently
Carver Doone came forth, having stopped to reload his piece perhaps, and
ran very swiftly to the entrance to see what he had shot.

Sore trouble had I to keep close quarters, from the slipperiness of the
stone beneath me with the water sliding over it. My foe came quite to
the verge of the fall, where the river began to comb over; and there he
stopped for a minute or two, on the utmost edge of dry land, upon the
very spot indeed where I had fallen senseless when I clomb it in my
boyhood. I could hear him breathing hard and grunting, as in doubt and
discontent, for he stood within a yard of me, and I kept my right
fist ready for him, if he should discover me. Then at the foot of the
waterslide, my black hat suddenly appeared, tossing in white foam, and
fluttering like a raven wounded. Now I had doubted which hat to take,
when I left home that day; till I thought that the black became me best,
and might seem kinder to Lorna.

'Have I killed thee, old bird, at last?' my enemy cried in triumph;
''tis the third time I have shot at thee, and thou wast beginning to
mock me. No more of thy cursed croaking now, to wake me in the morning.
Ha, ha! there are not many who get three chances from Carver Doone; and
none ever go beyond it.'

I laughed within myself at this, as he strode away in his triumph; for
was not this his third chance of me, and he no whit the wiser? And then
I thought that perhaps the chance might some day be on the other side.

For to tell the truth, I was heartily tired of lurking and playing
bo_peep so long; to which nothing could have reconciled me, except
my fear for Lorna. And here I saw was a man of strength fit for me to
encounter, such as I had never met, but would be glad to meet with;
having found no man of late who needed not my mercy at wrestling, or at
single_stick. And growing more and more uneasy, as I found no Lorna, I
would have tried to force the Doone Glen from the upper end, and take my
chance of getting back, but for Annie and her prayers.

Now that same night I think it was, or at any rate the next one, that I
noticed Betty Muxworthy going on most strangely. She made the queerest
signs to me, when nobody was looking, and laid her fingers on her lips,
and pointed over her shoulder. But I took little heed of her, being in
a kind of dudgeon, and oppressed with evil luck; believing too that all
she wanted was to have some little grumble about some petty grievance.

But presently she poked me with the heel of a fire_bundle, and passing
close to my ear whispered, so that none else could hear her, 'Larna
Doo_un.'

By these words I was so startled, that I turned round and stared at her;
but she pretended not to know it, and began with all her might to scour
an empty crock with a besom.

'Oh, Betty, let me help you! That work is much too hard for you,' I
cried with a sudden chivalry, which only won rude answer.

'Zeed me adooing of thic, every naight last ten year, Jan, wiout vindin'
out how hard it wor. But if zo bee thee wants to help, carr peg's bucket
for me. Massy, if I ain't forgotten to fade the pegs till now.'

Favouring me with another wink, to which I now paid the keenest heed,
Betty went and fetched the lanthorn from the hook inside the door. Then
when she had kindled it, not allowing me any time to ask what she was
after, she went outside, and pointed to the great bock of wash, and
riddlings, and brown hulkage (for we ground our own corn always), and
though she knew that Bill Dadds and Jem Slocombe had full work to carry
it on a pole (with another to help to sling it), she said to me as
quietly as a maiden might ask one to carry a glove, 'Jan Ridd, carr thic
thing for me.'

So I carried it for her, without any words; wondering what she was up
to next, and whether she had ever heard of being too hard on the willing
horse. And when we came to hog_pound, she turned upon me suddenly, with
the lanthorn she was bearing, and saw that I had the bock by one hand
very easily.

'Jan Ridd,' she said, 'there be no other man in England cud a' dood it.
Now thee shalt have Larna.'

While I was wondering how my chance of having Lorna could depend upon
my power to carry pig's wash, and how Betty could have any voice in the
matter (which seemed to depend upon her decision), and in short, while
I was all abroad as to her knowledge and everything, the pigs, who had
been fast asleep and dreaming in their emptiness, awoke with one accord
at the goodness of the smell around them. They had resigned themselves,
as even pigs do, to a kind of fast, hoping to break their fast more
sweetly on the morrow morning. But now they tumbled out all headlong,
pigs below and pigs above, pigs point_blank and pigs across, pigs
courant and pigs rampant, but all alike prepared to eat, and all in good
cadence squeaking.

'Tak smarl boocket, and bale un out; wad 'e waste sich stoof as thic
here be?' So Betty set me to feed the pigs, while she held the lanthorn;
and knowing what she was, I saw that she would not tell me another word
until all the pigs were served. And in truth no man could well look at
them, and delay to serve them, they were all expressing appetite in so
forcible a manner; some running to and fro, and rubbing, and squealing
as if from starvation, some rushing down to the oaken troughs, and
poking each other away from them; and the kindest of all putting up
their fore_feet on the top_rail on the hog_pound, and blinking their
little eyes, and grunting prettily to coax us; as who would say, 'I
trust you now; you will be kind, I know, and give me the first and the
very best of it.'

'Oppen ge_at now, wull 'e, Jan? Maind, young sow wi' the baible back
arlway hath first toorn of it, 'cos I brought her up on my lap, I did.
Zuck, zuck, zuck! How her stickth her tail up; do me good to zee un! Now
thiccy trough, thee zany, and tak thee girt legs out o' the wai. Wish
they wud gie thee a good baite, mak thee hop a bit vaster, I reckon. Hit
that there girt ozebird over's back wi' the broomstick, he be robbing
of my young zow. Choog, choog, choog! and a drap more left in the
dripping_pail.'

'Come now, Betty,' I said, when all the pigs were at it sucking,
swilling, munching, guzzling, thrusting, and ousting, and spilling
the food upon the backs of their brethren (as great men do with their
charity), 'come now, Betty, how much longer am I to wait for your
message? Surely I am as good as a pig.'

'Dunno as thee be, Jan. No straikiness in thy bakkon. And now I come to
think of it, Jan, thee zed, a wake agone last Vriday, as how I had got a
girt be_ard. Wull 'e stick to that now, Maister Jan?'

'No, no, Betty, certainly not; I made a mistake about it. I should have
said a becoming mustachio, such as you may well be proud of.'

'Then thee be a laiar, Jan Ridd. Zay so, laike a man, lad.'

'Not exactly that, Betty; but I made a great mistake; and I humbly ask
your pardon; and if such a thing as a crown_piece, Betty'__

'No fai, no fai!' said Betty, however she put it into her pocket; 'now
tak my advice, Jan; thee marry Zally Snowe.'

'Not with all England for her dowry. Oh, Betty, you know better.'

'Ah's me! I know much worse, Jan. Break thy poor mother's heart it will.
And to think of arl the danger! Dost love Larna now so much?'

'With all the strength of my heart and soul. I will have her, or I will
die, Betty.'

'Wull. Thee will die in either case. But it baint for me to argify. And
do her love thee too, Jan?'

'I hope she does, Betty I hope she does. What do you think about it?'

'Ah, then I may hold my tongue to it. Knaw what boys and maidens be, as
well as I knew young pegs. I myzell been o' that zort one taime every
bit so well as you be.' And Betty held the lanthorn up, and defied me to
deny it; and the light through the horn showed a gleam in her eyes, such
as I had never seer there before. 'No odds, no odds about that,'
she continued; 'mak a fool of myzell to spake of it. Arl gone into
churchyard. But it be a lucky foolery for thee, my boy, I can tull 'ee.
For I love to see the love in thee. Coom'th over me as the spring do,
though I be naigh three score. Now, Jan, I will tell thee one thing,
can't abear to zee thee vretting so. Hould thee head down, same as they
pegs do.'

So I bent my head quite close to her; and she whispered in my ear, 'Goo
of a marning, thee girt soft. Her can't get out of an avening now, her
hath zent word to me, to tull 'ee.'

In the glory of my delight at this, I bestowed upon Betty a chaste
salute, with all the pigs for witnesses; and she took it not amiss,
considering how long she had been out of practice. But then she fell
back, like a broom on its handle, and stared at me, feigning anger.

'Oh fai, oh fai! Lunnon impudence, I doubt. I vear thee hast gone on
zadly, Jan.'



Lorna Doone by R. D. Blackmore Deluxe Edition Chapter 33

AN EARLY MORNING CALL

Of course I was up the very next morning before the October sunrise, and
away through the wild and the woodland towards the Bagworthy water, at
the foot of the long cascade. The rising of the sun was noble in the
cold and warmth of it; peeping down the spread of light, he raised his
shoulder heavily over the edge of grey mountain, and wavering length of
upland. Beneath his gaze the dew_fogs dipped, and crept to the hollow
places; then stole away in line and column, holding skirts, and clinging
subtly at the sheltering corners, where rock hung over grass_land; while
the brave lines of the hills came forth, one beyond other gliding.

Then the woods arose in folds, like drapery of awakened mountains,
stately with a depth of awe, and memory of the tempests. Autumn's mellow
hand was on them, as they owned already, touched with gold, and red,
and olive; and their joy towards the sun was less to a bridegroom than a
father.

Yet before the floating impress of the woods could clear itself,
suddenly the gladsome light leaped over hill and valley, casting amber,
blue, and purple, and a tint of rich red rose; according to the scene
they lit on, and the curtain flung around; yet all alike dispelling fear
and the cloven hoof of darkness, all on the wings of hope advancing,
and proclaiming, 'God is here.' Then life and joy sprang reassured
from every crouching hollow; every flower, and bud, and bird, had a
fluttering sense of them; and all the flashing of God's gaze merged into
soft beneficence.

So perhaps shall break upon us that eternal morning, when crag and chasm
shall be no more, neither hill and valley, nor great unvintaged ocean;
when glory shall not scare happiness, neither happiness envy glory;
but all things shall arise and shine in the light of the Father's
countenance, because itself is risen.

Who maketh His sun to rise upon both the just and the unjust. And surely
but for the saving clause, Doone Glen had been in darkness. Now, as I
stood with scanty breath__for few men could have won that climb__at
the top of the long defile, and the bottom of the mountain gorge all of
myself, and the pain of it, and the cark of my discontent fell away
into wonder and rapture. For I cannot help seeing things now and then,
slow_witted as I have a right to be; and perhaps because it comes so
rarely, the sight dwells with me like a picture.

The bar of rock, with the water_cleft breaking steeply through it, stood
bold and bare, and dark in shadow, grey with red gullies down it. But
the sun was beginning to glisten over the comb of the eastern highland,
and through an archway of the wood hung with old nests and ivy. The
lines of many a leaning tree were thrown, from the cliffs of the
foreland, down upon the sparkling grass at the foot of the western
crags. And through the dewy meadow's breast, fringed with shade, but
touched on one side with the sun_smile, ran the crystal water, curving
in its brightness like diverted hope.

On either bank, the blades of grass, making their last autumn growth,
pricked their spears and crisped their tuftings with the pearly purity.
The tenderness of their green appeared under the glaucous mantle; while
that grey suffusion, which is the blush of green life, spread its damask
chastity. Even then my soul was lifted, worried though my mind was: who
can see such large kind doings, and not be ashamed of human grief?

Not only unashamed of grief, but much abashed with joy, was I, when
I saw my Lorna coming, purer than the morning dew, than the sun more
bright and clear. That which made me love her so, that which lifted my
heart to her, as the Spring wind lifts the clouds, was the gayness of
her nature, and its inborn playfulness. And yet all this with maiden
shame, a conscious dream of things unknown, and a sense of fate about
them.

Down the valley still she came, not witting that I looked at her, having
ceased (through my own misprison) to expect me yet awhile; or at least
she told herself so. In the joy of awakened life and brightness of
the morning, she had cast all care away, and seemed to float upon the
sunrise, like a buoyant silver wave. Suddenly at sight of me, for I
leaped forth at once, in fear of seeming to watch her unawares, the
bloom upon her cheeks was deepened, and the radiance of her eyes; and
she came to meet me gladly.

'At last then, you are come, John. I thought you had forgotten me. I
could not make you understand__they have kept me prisoner every evening:
but come into my house; you are in danger here.'

Meanwhile I could not answer, being overcome with joy, but followed
to her little grotto, where I had been twice before. I knew that the
crowning moment of my life was coming__that Lorna would own her love for
me.

She made for awhile as if she dreamed not of the meaning of my gaze,
but tried to speak of other things, faltering now and then, and mantling
with a richer damask below her long eyelashes.

'This is not what I came to know,' I whispered very softly, 'you know
what I am come to ask.'

'If you are come on purpose to ask anything, why do you delay so?' She
turned away very bravely, but I saw that her lips were trembling.

'I delay so long, because I fear; because my whole life hangs in balance
on a single word; because what I have near me now may never more be near
me after, though more than all the world, or than a thousand worlds,
to me.' As I spoke these words of passion in a low soft voice, Lorna
trembled more and more; but she made no answer, neither yet looked up at
me.

'I have loved you long and long,' I pursued, being reckless now, 'when
you were a little child, as a boy I worshipped you: then when I saw
you a comely girl, as a stripling I adored you: now that you are a
full_grown maiden all the rest I do, and more__I love you more than
tongue can tell, or heart can hold in silence. I have waited long and
long; and though I am so far below you I can wait no longer; but must
have my answer.'

'You have been very faithful, John,' she murmured to the fern and moss;
'I suppose I must reward you.'

'That will not do for me,' I said; 'I will not have reluctant liking,
nor assent for pity's sake; which only means endurance. I must have all
love, or none, I must have your heart of hearts; even as you have mine,
Lorna.'

While I spoke, she glanced up shyly through her fluttering lashes,
to prolong my doubt one moment, for her own delicious pride. Then she
opened wide upon me all the glorious depth and softness of her loving
eyes, and flung both arms around my neck, and answered with her heart on
mine,__

'Darling, you have won it all. I shall never be my own again. I am
yours, my own one, for ever and for ever.'

I am sure I know not what I did, or what I said thereafter, being
overcome with transport by her words and at her gaze. Only one thing I
remember, when she raised her bright lips to me, like a child, for me to
kiss, such a smile of sweet temptation met me through her flowing hair,
that I almost forgot my manners, giving her no time to breathe.

'That will do,' said Lorna gently, but violently blushing; 'for the
present that will do, John. And now remember one thing, dear. All the
kindness is to be on my side; and you are to be very distant, as behoves
to a young maiden; except when I invite you. But you may kiss my hand,
John; oh, yes, you may kiss my hand, you know. Ah to be sure! I had
forgotten; how very stupid of me!'

For by this time I had taken one sweet hand and gazed on it, with the
pride of all the world to think that such a lovely thing was mine; and
then I slipped my little ring upon the wedding finger; and this time
Lorna kept it, and looked with fondness on its beauty, and clung to me
with a flood of tears.

'Every time you cry,' said I, drawing her closer to me 'I shall consider
it an invitation not to be too distant. There now, none shall make you
weep. Darling, you shall sigh no more, but live in peace and happiness,
with me to guard and cherish you: and who shall dare to vex you?' But
she drew a long sad sigh, and looked at the ground with the great tears
rolling, and pressed one hand upon the trouble of her pure young breast.

'It can never, never be,' she murmured to herself alone: 'Who am I, to
dream of it? Something in my heart tells me it can be so never, never.'



Lorna Doone by R. D. Blackmore Deluxe Edition Chapter 34

TWO NEGATIVES MAKE AN AFFIRMATIVE

There was, however, no possibility of depressing me at such a time. To
be loved by Lorna, the sweet, the pure, the playful one, the fairest
creature on God's earth and the most enchanting, the lady of high birth
and mind; that I, a mere clumsy, blundering yeoman, without wit, or
wealth, or lineage, should have won that loving heart to be my own for
ever, was a thought no fears could lessen, and no chance could steal
from me.

Therefore at her own entreaty taking a very quick adieu, and by her own
invitation an exceeding kind one, I hurried home with deep exulting, yet
some sad misgivings, for Lorna had made me promise now to tell my mother
everything; as indeed I always meant to do, when my suit should be gone
too far to stop. I knew, of course, that my dear mother would be greatly
moved and vexed, the heirship of Glen Doone not being a very desirable
dower, but in spite of that, and all disappointment as to little Ruth
Huckaback, feeling my mother's tenderness and deep affection to me, and
forgiving nature, I doubted not that before very long she would view the
matter as I did. Moreover, I felt that if once I could get her only to
look at Lorna, she would so love and glory in her, that I should obtain
all praise and thanks, perchance without deserving them.

Unluckily for my designs, who should be sitting down at breakfast with
my mother and the rest but Squire Faggus, as everybody now began to
entitle him. I noticed something odd about him, something uncomfortable
in his manner, and a lack of that ease and humour which had been wont to
distinguish him. He took his breakfast as it came, without a single
joke about it, or preference of this to that; but with sly soft looks
at Annie, who seemed unable to sit quiet, or to look at any one
steadfastly. I feared in my heart what was coming on, and felt truly
sorry for poor mother. After breakfast it became my duty to see to the
ploughing of a barley_stubble ready for the sowing of a French grass,
and I asked Tom Faggus to come with me, but he refused, and I knew the
reason. Being resolved to allow him fair field to himself, though with
great displeasure that a man of such illegal repute should marry into
our family, which had always been counted so honest, I carried my dinner
upon my back, and spent the whole day with the furrows.

When I returned, Squire Faggus was gone; which appeared to me but
a sorry sign, inasmuch as if mother had taken kindly to him and his
intentions, she would surely have made him remain awhile to celebrate
the occasion. And presently no doubt was left: for Lizzie came running
to meet me, at the bottom of the woodrick, and cried,__

'Oh, John, there is such a business. Mother is in such a state of mind,
and Annie crying her eyes out. What do you think? You would never guess,
though I have suspected it, ever so long.'

'No need for me to guess,' I replied, as though with some indifference,
because of her self_important air; 'I knew all about it long ago. You
have not been crying much, I see. I should like you better if you had.'

'Why should I cry? I like Tom Faggus. He is the only one I ever see with
the spirit of a man.'

This was a cut, of course, at me. Mr. Faggus had won the goodwill of
Lizzie by his hatred of the Doones, and vows that if he could get a
dozen men of any courage to join him, he would pull their stronghold
about their ears without any more ado. This malice of his seemed strange
to me, as he had never suffered at their hands, so far at least as I
knew; was it to be attributed to his jealousy of outlaws who excelled
him in his business? Not being good at repartee, I made no answer to
Lizzie, having found this course more irksome to her than the very best
invective: and so we entered the house together; and mother sent at once
for me, while I was trying to console my darling sister Annie.

'Oh, John! speak one good word for me,' she cried with both hands laid
in mine, and her tearful eyes looking up at me.

'Not one, my pet, but a hundred,' I answered, kindly embracing her:
'have no fear, little sister: I am going to make your case so bright, by
comparison, I mean, that mother will send for you in five minutes, and
call you her best, her most dutiful child, and praise Cousin Tom to the
skies, and send a man on horseback after him; and then you will have a
harder task to intercede for me, my dear.'

'Oh, John, dear John, you won't tell her about Lorna__oh, not to_day,
dear.'

'Yes, to_day, and at once, Annie. I want to have it over, and be done
with it.'

'Oh, but think of her, dear. I am sure she could not bear it, after this
great shock already.'

'She will bear it all the better,' said I; 'the one will drive the other
out. I know exactly what mother is. She will be desperately savage first
with you, and then with me, and then for a very little while with both
of us together; and then she will put one against the other (in her mind
I mean) and consider which was most to blame; and in doing that she will
be compelled to find the best in either's case, that it may beat the
other; and so as the pleas come before her mind, they will gain upon the
charges, both of us being her children, you know: and before very long
(particularly if we both keep out of the way) she will begin to think
that after all she has been a little too hasty, and then she will
remember how good we have always been to her; and how like our father.
Upon that, she will think of her own love_time, and sigh a good bit,
and cry a little, and then smile, and send for both of us, and beg our
pardon, and call us her two darlings.'

'Now, John, how on earth can you know all that?' exclaimed my sister,
wiping her eyes, and gazing at me with a soft bright smile. 'Who on
earth can have told you, John? People to call you stupid indeed! Why,
I feel that all you say is quite true, because you describe so exactly
what I should do myself; I mean__I mean if I had two children, who had
behaved as we have done. But tell me, darling John, how you learned all
this.'

'Never you mind,' I replied, with a nod of some conceit, I fear: 'I must
be a fool if I did not know what mother is by this time.'

Now inasmuch as the thing befell according to my prediction, what need
for me to dwell upon it, after saying how it would be? Moreover, I would
regret to write down what mother said about Lorna, in her first surprise
and tribulation; not only because I was grieved by the gross injustice
of it, and frightened mother with her own words (repeated deeply after
her); but rather because it is not well, when people repent of hasty
speech, to enter it against them.

That is said to be the angels' business; and I doubt if they can attend
to it much, without doing injury to themselves.

However, by the afternoon, when the sun began to go down upon us, our
mother sat on the garden bench, with her head on my great otter_skin
waistcoat (which was waterproof), and her right arm round our Annie's
waist, and scarcely knowing which of us she ought to make the most of,
or which deserved most pity. Not that she had forgiven yet the rivals to
her love__Tom Faggus, I mean, and Lorna__but that she was beginning to
think a tattle better of them now, and a vast deal better of her own
children.

And it helped her much in this regard, that she was not thinking half
so well as usual of herself, or rather of her own judgment; for in good
truth she had no self, only as it came home to her, by no very distant
road, but by way of her children. A better mother never lived; and can
I, after searching all things, add another word to that?

And indeed poor Lizzie was not so very bad; but behaved (on the whole)
very well for her. She was much to be pitied, poor thing, and great
allowances made for her, as belonging to a well_grown family, and a very
comely one; and feeling her own shortcomings. This made her leap to the
other extreme, and reassert herself too much, endeavouring to exalt the
mind at the expense of the body; because she had the invisible one (so
far as can be decided) in better share than the visible. Not but what
she had her points, and very comely points of body; lovely eyes to wit,
and very beautiful hands and feet (almost as good as Lorna's), and a
neck as white as snow; but Lizzie was not gifted with our gait and port,
and bounding health.

Now, while we sat on the garden bench, under the great ash_tree, we left
dear mother to take her own way, and talk at her own pleasure. Children
almost always are more wide_awake than their parents. The fathers and
the mothers laugh; but the young ones have the best of them. And now
both Annie knew, and I, that we had gotten the best of mother; and
therefore we let her lay down the law, as if we had been two dollies.

'Darling John,' my mother said, 'your case is a very hard one. A young
and very romantic girl__God send that I be right in my charitable
view of her__has met an equally simple boy, among great dangers and
difficulties, from which my son has saved her, at the risk of his life
at every step. Of course, she became attached to him, and looked up to
him in every way, as a superior being'__

'Come now, mother,' I said; 'if you only saw Lorna, you would look upon
me as the lowest dirt'__

'No doubt I should,' my mother answered; 'and the king and queen, and
all the royal family. Well, this poor angel, having made up her mind to
take compassion upon my son, when he had saved her life so many times,
persuades him to marry her out of pure pity, and throw his poor mother
overboard. And the saddest part of it all is this__'

'That my mother will never, never, never understand the truth,' said I.

'That is all I wish,' she answered; 'just to get at the simple truth
from my own perception of it. John, you are very wise in kissing me;
but perhaps you would not be so wise in bringing Lorna for an afternoon,
just to see what she thinks of me. There is a good saddle of mutton now;
and there are some very good sausages left, on the blue dish with the
anchor, Annie, from the last little sow we killed.'

'As if Lorna would eat sausages!' said I, with appearance of high
contempt, though rejoicing all the while that mother seemed to have her
name so pat; and she pronounced it in a manner which made my heart leap
to my ears: 'Lorna to eat sausages!'

'I don't see why she shouldn't,' my mother answered smiling, 'if she
means to be a farmer's wife, she must take to farmer's ways, I think.
What do you say, Annie?'

'She will eat whatever John desires, I should hope,' said Annie gravely;
'particularly as I made them.'

'Oh that I could only get the chance of trying her!' I answered, 'if you
could once behold her, mother, you would never let her go again. And she
would love you with all her heart, she is so good and gentle.'

'That is a lucky thing for me'; saying this my mother wept, as she had
been doing off and on, when no one seemed to look at her; 'otherwise I
suppose, John, she would very soon turn me out of the farm, having you
so completely under her thumb, as she seems to have. I see now that my
time is over. Lizzie and I will seek our fortunes. It is wiser so.'

'Now, mother,' I cried; 'will you have the kindness not to talk any
nonsense? Everything belongs to you; and so, I hope, your children do.
And you, in turn, belong to us; as you have proved ever since__oh, ever
since we can remember. Why do you make Annie cry so? You ought to know
better than that.'

Mother upon this went over all the things she had done before; how many
times I know not; neither does it matter. Only she seemed to enjoy it
more, every time of doing it. And then she said she was an old fool; and
Annie (like a thorough girl) pulled her one grey hair out.



Lorna Doone by R. D. Blackmore Deluxe Edition Chapter 35

RUTH IS NOT LIKE LORNA

Although by our mother's reluctant consent a large part of the obstacles
between Annie and her lover appeared to be removed, on the other hand
Lorna and myself gained little, except as regarded comfort of mind, and
some ease to the conscience. Moreover, our chance of frequent meetings
and delightful converse was much impaired, at least for the present;
because though mother was not aware of my narrow escape from Carver
Doone, she made me promise never to risk my life by needless visits.
And upon this point, that is to say, the necessity of the visit, she was
well content, as she said, to leave me to my own good sense and honour;
only begging me always to tell her of my intention beforehand. This
pledge, however, for her own sake, I declined to give; knowing how
wretched she would be during all the time of my absence; and, on that
account, I promised instead, that I would always give her a full account
of my adventure upon returning.

Now my mother, as might be expected, began at once to cast about for
some means of relieving me from all further peril, and herself from
great anxiety. She was full of plans for fetching Lorna, in some
wonderful manner, out of the power of the Doones entirely, and into her
own hands, where she was to remain for at least a twelve_month, learning
all mother and Annie could teach her of dairy business, and farm_house
life, and the best mode of packing butter. And all this arose from my
happening to say, without meaning anything, how the poor dear had longed
for quiet, and a life of simplicity, and a rest away from violence!
Bless thee, mother__now long in heaven, there is no need to bless thee;
but it often makes a dimness now in my well_worn eyes, when I think of
thy loving_kindness, warmth, and romantic innocence.

As to stealing my beloved from that vile Glen Doone, the deed itself was
not impossible, nor beyond my daring; but in the first place would she
come, leaving her old grandfather to die without her tendence? And
even if, through fear of Carver and that wicked Counsellor, she should
consent to fly, would it be possible to keep her without a regiment of
soldiers? Would not the Doones at once ride forth to scour the country
for their queen, and finding her (as they must do), burn our house, and
murder us, and carry her back triumphantly?

All this I laid before my mother, and to such effect that she
acknowledged, with a sigh that nothing else remained for me (in the
present state of matters) except to keep a careful watch upon Lorna from
safe distance, observe the policy of the Doones, and wait for a tide in
their affairs. Meanwhile I might even fall in love (as mother unwisely
hinted) with a certain more peaceful heiress, although of inferior
blood, who would be daily at my elbow. I am not sure but what dear
mother herself would have been disappointed, had I proved myself so
fickle; and my disdain and indignation at the mere suggestion did not so
much displease her; for she only smiled and answered,__

'Well, it is not for me to say; God knows what is good for us. Likings
will not come to order; otherwise I should not be where I am this day.
And of one thing I am rather glad; Uncle Reuben well deserves that his
pet scheme should miscarry. He who called my boy a coward, an ignoble
coward, because he would not join some crack_brained plan against the
valley which sheltered his beloved one! And all the time this dreadful
"coward" risking his life daily there, without a word to any one! How
glad I am that you will not have, for all her miserable money, that
little dwarfish granddaughter of the insolent old miser!'

She turned, and by her side was standing poor Ruth Huckaback herself,
white, and sad, and looking steadily at my mother's face, which became
as red as a plum while her breath deserted her.

'If you please, madam,' said the little maiden, with her large calm eyes
unwavering, 'it is not my fault, but God Almighty's, that I am a little
dwarfish creature. I knew not that you regarded me with so much contempt
on that account; neither have you told my grandfather, at least
within my hearing, that he was an insolent old miser. When I return to
Dulverton, which I trust to do to_morrow (for it is too late to_day),
I shall be careful not to tell him your opinion of him, lest I should
thwart any schemes you may have upon his property. I thank you all for
your kindness to me, which has been very great, far more than a little
dwarfish creature could, for her own sake, expect. I will only add for
your further guidance one more little truth. It is by no means certain
that my grandfather will settle any of his miserable money upon me. If
I offend him, as I would in a moment, for the sake of a brave and
straightforward man'__here she gave me a glance which I scarcely knew
what to do with__'my grandfather, upright as he is, would leave me
without a shilling. And I often wish it were so. So many miseries come
upon me from the miserable money__' Here she broke down, and burst out
crying, and ran away with a faint good_bye; while we three looked at one
another, and felt that we had the worst of it.

'Impudent little dwarf!' said my mother, recovering her breath after
ever so long. 'Oh, John, how thankful you ought to be! What a life she
would have led you!'

'Well, I am sure!' said Annie, throwing her arms around poor mother:
'who could have thought that little atomy had such an outrageous spirit!
For my part I cannot think how she can have been sly enough to hide it
in that crafty manner, that John might think her an angel!'

'Well, for my part,' I answered, laughing, 'I never admired Ruth
Huckaback half, or a quarter so much before. She is rare stuff. I would
have been glad to have married her to_morrow, if I had never seen my
Lorna.'

'And a nice nobody I should have been, in my own house!' cried mother:
'I never can be thankful enough to darling Lorna for saving me. Did you
see how her eyes flashed?'

'That I did; and very fine they were. Now nine maidens out of ten would
have feigned not to have heard one word that was said, and have borne
black malice in their hearts. Come, Annie, now, would not you have done
so?'

'I think,' said Annie, 'although of course I cannot tell, you know,
John, that I should have been ashamed at hearing what was never meant
for me, and should have been almost as angry with myself as anybody.'

'So you would,' replied my mother; 'so any daughter of mine would have
done, instead of railing and reviling. However, I am very sorry that any
words of mine which the poor little thing chose to overhear should have
made her so forget herself. I shall beg her pardon before she goes, and
I shall expect her to beg mine.'

'That she will never do,' said I; 'a more resolute little maiden never
yet had right upon her side; although it was a mere accident. I might
have said the same thing myself, and she was hard upon you, mother
dear.'

After this, we said no more, at least about that matter; and little
Ruth, the next morning, left us, in spite of all that we could do. She
vowed an everlasting friendship to my younger sister Eliza; but she
looked at Annie with some resentment, when they said good_bye, for being
so much taller. At any rate so Annie fancied, but she may have been
quite wrong. I rode beside the little maid till far beyond Exeford, when
all danger of the moor was past, and then I left her with John Fry, not
wishing to be too particular, after all the talk about her money. She
had tears in her eyes when she bade me farewell, and she sent a kind
message home to mother, and promised to come again at Christmas, if she
could win permission.

Upon the whole, my opinion was that she had behaved uncommonly well for
a maid whose self_love was outraged, with spirit, I mean, and proper
pride; and yet with a great endeavour to forgive, which is, meseems, the
hardest of all things to a woman, outside of her own family.

After this, for another month, nothing worthy of notice happened, except
of course that I found it needful, according to the strictest good sense
and honour, to visit Lorna immediately after my discourse with mother,
and to tell her all about it. My beauty gave me one sweet kiss with all
her heart (as she always did, when she kissed at all), and I begged for
one more to take to our mother, and before leaving, I obtained it. It
is not for me to tell all she said, even supposing (what is not likely)
that any one cared to know it, being more and more peculiar to ourselves
and no one else. But one thing that she said was this, and I took good
care to carry it, word for word, to my mother and Annie:__

'I never can believe, dear John, that after all the crime and outrage
wrought by my reckless family, it ever can be meant for me to settle
down to peace and comfort in a simple household. With all my heart I
long for home; any home, however dull and wearisome to those used to
it, would seem a paradise to me, if only free from brawl and tumult,
and such as I could call my own. But even if God would allow me this, in
lieu of my wild inheritance, it is quite certain that the Doones never
can and never will.'

Again, when I told her how my mother and Annie, as well as myself,
longed to have her at Plover's Barrows, and teach her all the quiet
duties in which she was sure to take such delight, she only answered
with a bright blush, that while her grandfather was living she would
never leave him; and that even if she were free, certain ruin was all
she should bring to any house that received her, at least within the
utmost reach of her amiable family. This was too plain to be denied,
and seeing my dejection at it, she told me bravely that we must hope for
better times, if possible, and asked how long I would wait for her.

'Not a day if I had my will,' I answered very warmly; at which she
turned away confused, and would not look at me for awhile; 'but all my
life,' I went on to say, 'if my fortune is so ill. And how long would
you wait for me, Lorna?'

'Till I could get you,' she answered slyly, with a smile which
was brighter to me than the brightest wit could be. 'And now,' she
continued, 'you bound me, John, with a very beautiful ring to you, and
when I dare not wear it, I carry it always on my heart. But I will bind
you to me, you dearest, with the very poorest and plainest thing that
ever you set eyes on. I could give you fifty fairer ones, but they would
not be honest; and I love you for your honesty, and nothing else of
course, John; so don't you be conceited. Look at it, what a queer
old thing! There are some ancient marks upon it, very grotesque and
wonderful; it looks like a cat in a tree almost, but never mind what it
looks like. This old ring must have been a giant's; therefore it will
fit you perhaps, you enormous John. It has been on the front of my old
glass necklace (which my grandfather found them taking away, and very
soon made them give back again) ever since I can remember; and long
before that, as some woman told me. Now you seem very greatly amazed;
pray what thinks my lord of it?'

'That is worth fifty of the pearl thing which I gave you, you darling;
and that I will not take it from you.'

'Then you will never take me, that is all. I will have nothing to do
with a gentleman'__

'No gentleman, dear__a yeoman.'

'Very well, a yeoman__nothing to do with a yeoman who will not accept my
love_gage. So, if you please, give it back again, and take your lovely
ring back.'

She looked at me in such a manner, half in earnest, half in jest, and
three times three in love, that in spite of all good resolutions, and
her own faint protest, I was forced to abandon all firm ideas, and kiss
her till she was quite ashamed, and her head hung on my bosom, with the
night of her hair shed over me. Then I placed the pearl ring back on the
soft elastic bend of the finger she held up to scold me; and on my own
smallest finger drew the heavy hoop she had given me. I considered this
with satisfaction, until my darling recovered herself; and then I began
very gravely about it, to keep her (if I could) from chiding me:__

'Mistress Lorna, this is not the ring of any giant. It is nothing more
nor less than a very ancient thumb_ring, such as once in my father's
time was ploughed up out of the ground in our farm, and sent to learned
doctors, who told us all about it, but kept the ring for their trouble.
I will accept it, my own one love; and it shall go to my grave with
me.' And so it shall, unless there be villains who would dare to rob the
dead.

Now I have spoken about this ring (though I scarcely meant to do so,
and would rather keep to myself things so very holy) because it holds an
important part in the history of my Lorna. I asked her where the glass
necklace was from which the ring was fastened, and which she had worn
in her childhood, and she answered that she hardly knew, but remembered
that her grandfather had begged her to give it up to him, when she was
ten years old or so, and had promised to keep it for her until she
could take care of it; at the same time giving her back the ring, and
fastening it from her pretty neck, and telling her to be proud of it.
And so she always had been, and now from her sweet breast she took it,
and it became John Ridd's delight.

All this, or at least great part of it, I told my mother truly,
according to my promise; and she was greatly pleased with Lorna for
having been so good to me, and for speaking so very sensibly; and then
she looked at the great gold ring, but could by no means interpret it.
Only she was quite certain, as indeed I myself was, that it must have
belonged to an ancient race of great consideration, and high rank,
in their time. Upon which I was for taking it off, lest it should be
degraded by a common farmer's finger. But mother said 'No,' with tears
in her eyes; 'if the common farmer had won the great lady of the ancient
race, what were rings and old_world trinkets, when compared to the
living jewel?' Being quite of her opinion in this, and loving the ring
(which had no gem in it) as the token of my priceless gem, I resolved to
wear it at any cost, except when I should be ploughing, or doing things
likely to break it; although I must own that it felt very queer (for I
never had throttled a finger before), and it looked very queer, for a
length of time, upon my great hard_working hand.

And before I got used to my ring, or people could think that it belonged
to me (plain and ungarnished though it was), and before I went to see
Lorna again, having failed to find any necessity, and remembering my
duty to mother, we all had something else to think of, not so pleasant,
and more puzzling.



Lorna Doone by R. D. Blackmore Deluxe Edition Chapter 36

JOHN RETURNS TO BUSINESS

Now November was upon us, and we had kept Allhallowmass, with roasting
of skewered apples (like so many shuttlecocks), and after that the day
of Fawkes, as became good Protestants, with merry bonfires and burned
batatas, and plenty of good feeding in honour of our religion; and then
while we were at wheat_sowing, another visitor arrived.

This was Master Jeremy Stickles, who had been a good friend to me (as
described before) in London, and had earned my mother's gratitude, so
far as ever he chose to have it. And he seemed inclined to have it all;
for he made our farm_house his headquarters, and kept us quite at his
beck and call, going out at any time of the evening, and coming back at
any time of the morning, and always expecting us to be ready, whether
with horse, or man, or maiden, or fire, or provisions. We knew that he
was employed somehow upon the service of the King, and had at different
stations certain troopers and orderlies quite at his disposal; also
we knew that he never went out, nor even slept in his bedroom, without
heavy firearms well loaded, and a sharp sword nigh his hand; and that
he held a great commission, under royal signet, requiring all good
subjects, all officers of whatever degree, and especially justices of
the peace, to aid him to the utmost, with person, beast, and chattel, or
to answer it at their peril.

Now Master Jeremy Stickles, of course, knowing well what women are,
durst not open to any of them the nature of his instructions. But, after
awhile, perceiving that I could be relied upon, and that it was a great
discomfort not to have me with him, he took me aside in a lonely place,
and told me nearly everything; having bound me first by oath, not to
impart to any one, without his own permission, until all was over.

But at this present time of writing, all is over long ago; ay and
forgotten too, I ween, except by those who suffered. Therefore may I
tell the whole without any breach of confidence. Master Stickles was
going forth upon his usual night journey, when he met me coming home,
and I said something half in jest, about his zeal and secrecy; upon
which he looked all round the yard, and led me to an open space in the
clover field adjoining.

'John,' he said, 'you have some right to know the meaning of all this,
being trusted as you were by the Lord Chief Justice. But he found you
scarcely supple enough, neither gifted with due brains.'

'Thank God for that same,' I answered, while he tapped his head, to
signify his own much larger allowance. Then he made me bind myself,
which in an evil hour I did, to retain his secret; and after that he
went on solemnly, and with much importance,__

'There be some people fit to plot, and others to be plotted against,
and others to unravel plots, which is the highest gift of all. This last
hath fallen to my share, and a very thankless gift it is, although a
rare and choice one. Much of peril too attends it; daring courage and
great coolness are as needful for the work as ready wit and spotless
honour. Therefore His Majesty's advisers have chosen me for this high
task, and they could not have chosen a better man. Although you have
been in London, Jack, much longer than you wished it, you are wholly
ignorant, of course, in matters of state, and the public weal.'

'Well,' said I, 'no doubt but I am, and all the better for me. Although
I heard a deal of them; for everybody was talking, and ready to come to
blows; if only it could be done without danger. But one said this, and
one said that; and they talked so much about Birminghams, and Tantivies,
and Whigs and Tories, and Protestant flails and such like, that I was
only too glad to have my glass and clink my spoon for answer.'

'Right, John, thou art right as usual. Let the King go his own gait. He
hath too many mistresses to be ever England's master. Nobody need fear
him, for he is not like his father: he will have his own way, 'tis true,
but without stopping other folk of theirs: and well he knows what women
are, for he never asks them questions. Now heard you much in London town
about the Duke of Monmouth?'

'Not so very much,' I answered; 'not half so much as in Devonshire: only
that he was a hearty man, and a very handsome one, and now was banished
by the Tories; and most people wished he was coming back, instead of the
Duke of York, who was trying boots in Scotland.'

'Things are changed since you were in town. The Whigs are getting up
again, through the folly of the Tories killing poor Lord Russell; and
now this Master Sidney (if my Lord condemns him) will make it worse
again. There is much disaffection everywhere, and it must grow to an
outbreak. The King hath many troops in London, and meaneth to bring
more from Tangier; but he cannot command these country places; and the
trained bands cannot help him much, even if they would. Now, do you
understand me, John?'

'In truth, not I. I see not what Tangier hath to do with Exmoor; nor the
Duke of Monmouth with Jeremy Stickles.'

'Thou great clod, put it the other way. Jeremy Stickles may have much to
do about the Duke of Monmouth. The Whigs having failed of Exclusion, and
having been punished bitterly for the blood they shed, are ripe for any
violence. And the turn of the balance is now to them. See_saw is the
fashion of England always; and the Whigs will soon be the top_sawyers.'

'But,' said I, still more confused, '"The King is the top_sawyer,"
according to our proverb. How then can the Whigs be?'

'Thou art a hopeless ass, John. Better to sew with a chestnut than to
teach thee the constitution. Let it be so, let it be. I have seen a
boy of five years old more apt at politics than thou. Nay, look not
offended, lad. It is my fault for being over_deep to thee. I should have
considered thy intellect.'

'Nay, Master Jeremy, make no apologies. It is I that should excuse
myself; but, God knows, I have no politics.'

'Stick to that, my lad,' he answered; 'so shalt thou die easier. Now,
in ten words (without parties, or trying thy poor brain too much), I am
here to watch the gathering of a secret plot, not so much against the
King as against the due succession.'

'Now I understand at last. But, Master Stickles, you might have said all
that an hour ago almost.'

'It would have been better, if I had, to thee,' he replied with much
compassion; 'thy hat is nearly off thy head with the swelling of brain I
have given thee. Blows, blows, are thy business, Jack. There thou art in
thine element. And, haply, this business will bring thee plenty even
for thy great head to take. Now hearken to one who wishes thee well,
and plainly sees the end of it__stick thou to the winning side, and have
naught to do with the other one.'

'That,' said I, in great haste and hurry, 'is the very thing I want
to do, if I only knew which was the winning side, for the sake of
Lorna__that is to say, for the sake of my dear mother and sisters, and
the farm.'

'Ha!' cried Jeremy Stickles, laughing at the redness of my face__'Lorna,
saidst thou; now what Lorna? Is it the name of a maiden, or a
light_o'_love?'

'Keep to your own business,' I answered, very proudly; 'spy as much as
e'er thou wilt, and use our house for doing it, without asking leave or
telling; but if I ever find thee spying into my affairs, all the King's
lifeguards in London, and the dragoons thou bringest hither, shall not
save thee from my hand__or one finger is enough for thee.'

Being carried beyond myself by his insolence about Lorna, I looked
at Master Stickles so, and spake in such a voice, that all his daring
courage and his spotless honour quailed within him, and he shrank__as if
I would strike so small a man.

Then I left him, and went to work at the sacks upon the corn_floor, to
take my evil spirit from me before I should see mother. For (to tell the
truth) now my strength was full, and troubles were gathering round me,
and people took advantage so much of my easy temper, sometimes when
I was over_tried, a sudden heat ran over me, and a glowing of all
my muscles, and a tingling for a mighty throw, such as my utmost
self_command, and fear of hurting any one, could but ill refrain.
Afterwards, I was always very sadly ashamed of myself, knowing how poor
a thing bodily strength is, as compared with power of mind, and that it
is a coward's part to misuse it upon weaker folk. For the present there
was a little breach between Master Stickles and me, for which I blamed
myself very sorely. But though, in full memory of his kindness and
faithfulness in London, I asked his pardon many times for my foolish
anger with him, and offered to undergo any penalty he would lay upon me,
he only said it was no matter, there was nothing to forgive. When people
say that, the truth often is that they can forgive nothing.

So for the present a breach was made between Master Jeremy and myself,
which to me seemed no great loss, inasmuch as it relieved me from any
privity to his dealings, for which I had small liking. All I feared was
lest I might, in any way, be ungrateful to him; but when he would have
no more of me, what could I do to help it? However, in a few days' time
I was of good service to him, as you shall see in its proper place.

But now my own affairs were thrown into such disorder that I could
think of nothing else, and had the greatest difficulty in hiding my
uneasiness. For suddenly, without any warning, or a word of message,
all my Lorna's signals ceased, which I had been accustomed to watch for
daily, and as it were to feed upon them, with a glowing heart. The first
time I stood on the wooded crest, and found no change from yesterday, I
could hardly believe my eyes, or thought at least that it must be some
great mistake on the part of my love. However, even that oppressed me
with a heavy heart, which grew heavier, as I found from day to day no
token.

Three times I went and waited long at the bottom of the valley, where
now the stream was brown and angry with the rains of autumn, and the
weeping trees hung leafless. But though I waited at every hour of day,
and far into the night, no light footstep came to meet me, no sweet
voice was in the air; all was lonely, drear, and drenched with sodden
desolation. It seemed as if my love was dead, and the winds were at her
funeral.

Once I sought far up the valley, where I had never been before, even
beyond the copse where Lorna had found and lost her brave young cousin.
Following up the river channel, in shelter of the evening fog, I gained
a corner within stone's throw of the last outlying cot. This was a
gloomy, low, square house, without any light in the windows, roughly
built of wood and stone, as I saw when I drew nearer. For knowing it
to be Carver's dwelling (or at least suspecting so, from some words of
Lorna's), I was led by curiosity, and perhaps by jealousy, to have a
closer look at it. Therefore, I crept up the stream, losing half my
sense of fear, by reason of anxiety. And in truth there was not much to
fear, the sky being now too dark for even a shooter of wild fowl to make
good aim. And nothing else but guns could hurt me, as in the pride of my
strength I thought, and in my skill of single_stick.

Nevertheless, I went warily, being now almost among this nest of
cockatrices. The back of Carver's house abutted on the waves of the
rushing stream; and seeing a loop_hole, vacant for muskets, I looked in,
but all was quiet. So far as I could judge by listening, there was no
one now inside, and my heart for a moment leaped with joy, for I
had feared to find Lorna there. Then I took a careful survey of the
dwelling, and its windows, and its door, and aspect, as if I had been
a robber meaning to make privy entrance. It was well for me that I did
this, as you will find hereafter.

Having impressed upon my mind (a slow but, perhaps retentive mind), all
the bearings of the place, and all its opportunities, and even the
curve of the stream along it, and the bushes near the door, I was much
inclined to go farther up, and understand all the village. But a bar of
red light across the river, some forty yards on above me, and crossing
from the opposite side like a chain, prevented me. In that second house
there was a gathering of loud and merry outlaws, making as much noise as
if they had the law upon their side. Some, indeed, as I approached, were
laying down both right and wrong, as purely, and with as high a sense,
as if they knew the difference. Cold and troubled as I was, I could
hardly keep from laughing.

Before I betook myself home that night, and eased dear mother's heart
so much, and made her pale face spread with smiles, I had resolved to
penetrate Glen Doone from the upper end, and learn all about my Lorna.
Not but what I might have entered from my unsuspected channel, as so
often I had done; but that I saw fearful need for knowing something more
than that. Here was every sort of trouble gathering upon me, here was
Jeremy Stickles stealing upon every one in the dark; here was
Uncle Reuben plotting Satan only could tell what; here was a white
night_capped man coming bodily from the grave; here was my own sister
Annie committed to a highwayman, and mother in distraction; most of
all__here, there, and where__was my Lorna stolen, dungeoned, perhaps
outraged. It was no time for shilly shally, for the balance of this and
that, or for a man with blood and muscle to pat his nose and ponder.
If I left my Lorna so; if I let those black_soul'd villains work their
pleasure on my love; if the heart that clave to mine could find no
vigour in it__then let maidens cease from men, and rest their faith in
tabby_cats.

Rudely rolling these ideas in my heavy head and brain I resolved to let
the morrow put them into form and order, but not contradict them. And
then, as my constitution willed (being like that of England), I slept,
and there was no stopping me.



Lorna Doone by R. D. Blackmore Deluxe Edition Chapter 37

A VERY DESPERATE VENTURE

That the enterprise now resolved upon was far more dangerous than any
hitherto attempted by me, needs no further proof than this:__I went and
made my will at Porlock, with a middling honest lawyer there; not that I
had much to leave, but that none could say how far the farm, and all the
farming stock, might depend on my disposition. It makes me smile when I
remember how particular I was, and how for the life of me I was puzzled
to bequeath most part of my clothes, and hats, and things altogether
my own, to Lorna, without the shrewd old lawyer knowing who she was and
where she lived. At last, indeed, I flattered myself that I had baffled
old Tape's curiosity; but his wrinkled smile and his speech at parting
made me again uneasy.

'A very excellent will, young sir. An admirably just and virtuous will;
all your effects to your nearest of kin; filial and fraternal duty
thoroughly exemplified; nothing diverted to alien channels, except a
small token of esteem and reverence to an elderly lady, I presume: and
which may or may not be valid, or invalid, on the ground of uncertainty,
or the absence of any legal status on the part of the legatee. Ha, ha!
Yes, yes! Few young men are so free from exceptionable entanglements.
Two guineas is my charge, sir: and a rare good will for the money. Very
prudent of you, sir. Does you credit in every way. Well, well; we all
must die; and often the young before the old.'

Not only did I think two guineas a great deal too much money for a
quarter of an hour's employment, but also I disliked particularly the
words with which he concluded; they sounded, from his grating voice,
like the evil omen of a croaking raven. Nevertheless I still abode in my
fixed resolve to go, and find out, if I died for it, what was become of
Lorna. And herein I lay no claim to courage; the matter being simply
a choice between two evils, of which by far the greater one was, of
course, to lose my darling.

The journey was a great deal longer to fetch around the Southern hills,
and enter by the Doone_gate, than to cross the lower land and steal in
by the water_slide. However, I durst not take a horse (for fear of
the Doones who might be abroad upon their usual business), but started
betimes in the evening, so as not to hurry, or waste any strength upon
the way. And thus I came to the robbers' highway, walking circumspectly,
scanning the sky_line of every hill, and searching the folds of every
valley, for any moving figure.

Although it was now well on towards dark, and the sun was down an hour
or so, I could see the robbers' road before me, in a trough of the
winding hills, where the brook ploughed down from the higher barrows,
and the coving banks were roofed with furze. At present, there was no
one passing, neither post nor sentinel, so far as I could descry; but
I thought it safer to wait a little, as twilight melted into night;
and then I crept down a seam of the highland, and stood upon the
Doone_track.

As the road approached the entrance, it became more straight and strong,
like a channel cut from rock, with the water brawling darkly along the
naked side of it. Not a tree or bush was left, to shelter a man from
bullets: all was stern, and stiff, and rugged, as I could not help
perceiving, even through the darkness, and a smell as of churchyard
mould, a sense of being boxed in and cooped, made me long to be out
again.

And here I was, or seemed to be, particularly unlucky; for as I drew
near the very entrance, lightly of foot and warily, the moon (which had
often been my friend) like an enemy broke upon me, topping the eastward
ridge of rock, and filling all the open spaces with the play of wavering
light. I shrank back into the shadowy quarter on the right side of the
road; and gloomily employed myself to watch the triple entrance, on
which the moonlight fell askew.

All across and before the three rude and beetling archways hung a
felled oak overhead, black, and thick, and threatening. This, as I heard
before, could be let fall in a moment, so as to crush a score of men,
and bar the approach of horses. Behind this tree, the rocky mouth was
spanned, as by a gallery with brushwood and piled timber, all upon a
ledge of stone, where thirty men might lurk unseen, and fire at any
invader. From that rampart it would be impossible to dislodge them,
because the rock fell sheer below them twenty feet, or it may be more;
while overhead it towered three hundred, and so jutted over that nothing
could be cast upon them; even if a man could climb the height. And
the access to this portcullis place__if I may so call it, being no
portcullis there__was through certain rocky chambers known to the
tenants only.

But the cleverest of their devices, and the most puzzling to an enemy,
was that, instead of one mouth only, there were three to choose from,
with nothing to betoken which was the proper access; all being pretty
much alike, and all unfenced and yawning. And the common rumour was
that in times of any danger, when any force was known to be on muster in
their neighbourhood, they changed their entrance every day, and diverted
the other two, by means of sliding doors to the chasms and dark abysses.

Now I could see those three rough arches, jagged, black, and terrible;
and I knew that only one of them could lead me to the valley; neither
gave the river now any further guidance; but dived underground with a
sullen roar, where it met the cross_bar of the mountain. Having no means
at all of judging which was the right way of the three, and knowing that
the other two would lead to almost certain death, in the ruggedness and
darkness,__for how could a man, among precipices and bottomless depths
of water, without a ray of light, have any chance to save his life?__I
do declare that I was half inclined to go away, and have done with it.

However, I knew one thing for certain, to wit, that the longer I stayed
debating the more would the enterprise pall upon me, and the less my
relish be. And it struck me that, in times of peace, the middle way was
the likeliest; and the others diverging right and left in their farther
parts might be made to slide into it (not far from the entrance), at the
pleasure of the warders. Also I took it for good omen that I remembered
(as rarely happened) a very fine line in the Latin grammar, whose
emphasis and meaning is 'middle road is safest.'

Therefore, without more hesitation, I plunged into the middle way,
holding a long ash staff before me, shodden at the end with iron.
Presently I was in black darkness groping along the wall, and feeling a
deal more fear than I wished to feel; especially when upon looking back
I could no longer see the light, which I had forsaken. Then I stumbled
over something hard, and sharp, and very cold, moreover so grievous to
my legs that it needed my very best doctrine and humour to forbear from
swearing, in the manner they use in London. But when I arose and felt
it, and knew it to be a culverin, I was somewhat reassured thereby,
inasmuch as it was not likely that they would plant this engine except
in the real and true entrance.

Therefore I went on again, more painfully and wearily, and presently
found it to be good that I had received that knock, and borne it with
such patience; for otherwise I might have blundered full upon the
sentries, and been shot without more ado. As it was, I had barely time
to draw back, as I turned a corner upon them; and if their lanthorn had
been in its place, they could scarce have failed to descry me, unless
indeed I had seen the gleam before I turned the corner.

There seemed to be only two of them, of size indeed and stature as all
the Doones must be, but I need not have feared to encounter them both,
had they been unarmed, as I was. It was plain, however, that each had a
long and heavy carbine, not in his hands (as it should have been), but
standing close beside him. Therefore it behoved me now to be exceedingly
careful, and even that might scarce avail, without luck in proportion.
So I kept well back at the corner, and laid one cheek to the rock
face, and kept my outer eye round the jut, in the wariest mode I could
compass, watching my opportunity: and this is what I saw.

The two villains looked very happy__which villains have no right to be,
but often are, meseemeth__they were sitting in a niche of rock, with
the lanthorn in the corner, quaffing something from glass measures, and
playing at push_pin, or shepherd's chess, or basset; or some trivial
game of that sort. Each was smoking a long clay pipe, quite of new
London shape, I could see, for the shadow was thrown out clearly; and
each would laugh from time to time, as he fancied he got the better of
it. One was sitting with his knees up, and left hand on his thigh; and
this one had his back to me, and seemed to be the stouter. The other
leaned more against the rock, half sitting and half astraddle, and
wearing leathern overalls, as if newly come from riding. I could see his
face quite clearly by the light of the open lanthorn, and a handsomer
or a bolder face I had seldom, if ever, set eyes upon; insomuch that it
made me very unhappy to think of his being so near my Lorna.

'How long am I to stand crouching here?' I asked of myself, at last,
being tired of hearing them cry, 'score one,' 'score two,' 'No, by
__, Charlie,' 'By __, I say it is, Phelps.' And yet my only chance of
slipping by them unperceived was to wait till they quarrelled more, and
came to blows about it. Presently, as I made up my mind to steal along
towards them (for the cavern was pretty wide, just there), Charlie, or
Charleworth Doone, the younger and taller man, reached forth his hand
to seize the money, which he swore he had won that time. Upon this,
the other jerked his arm, vowing that he had no right to it; whereupon
Charlie flung at his face the contents of the glass he was sipping,
but missed him and hit the candle, which sputtered with a flare of
blue flame (from the strength perhaps of the spirit) and then went out
completely. At this, one swore, and the other laughed; and before they
had settled what to do, I was past them and round the corner.

And then, like a giddy fool as I was, I needs must give them a
startler__the whoop of an owl, done so exactly, as John Fry had taught
me, and echoed by the roof so fearfully, that one of them dropped the
tinder box; and the other caught up his gun and cocked it, at least as
I judged by the sounds they made. And then, too late, I knew my madness,
for if either of them had fired, no doubt but what all the village would
have risen and rushed upon me. However, as the luck of the matter went,
it proved for my advantage; for I heard one say to the other,__

'Curse it, Charlie, what was that? It scared me so, I have dropped my
box; my flint is gone, and everything. Will the brimstone catch from
your pipe, my lad?'

'My pipe is out, Phelps, ever so long. Damn it, I am not afraid of an
owl, man. Give me the lanthorn, and stay here. I'm not half done with
you yet, my friend.'

'Well said, my boy, well said! Go straight to Carver's, mind you. The
other sleepy heads be snoring, as there is nothing up to_night. No
dallying now under Captain's window. Queen will have nought to say to
you; and Carver will punch your head into a new wick for your lanthorn.'

'Will he though? Two can play at that.' And so after some rude jests,
and laughter, and a few more oaths, I heard Charlie (or at any rate
somebody) coming toward me, with a loose and not too sober footfall. As
he reeled a little in his gait, and I would not move from his way one
inch, after his talk of Lorna, but only longed to grasp him (if common
sense permitted it), his braided coat came against my thumb, and his
leathern gaiters brushed my knee. If he had turned or noticed it, he
would have been a dead man in a moment; but his drunkenness saved him.

So I let him reel on unharmed; and thereupon it occurred to me that I
could have no better guide, passing as he would exactly where I wished
to be; that is to say under Lorna's window. Therefore I followed him
without any especial caution; and soon I had the pleasure of seeing
his form against the moonlit sky. Down a steep and winding path, with
a handrail at the corners (such as they have at Ilfracombe), Master
Charlie tripped along__and indeed there was much tripping, and he must
have been an active fellow to recover as he did__and after him walked I,
much hoping (for his own poor sake) that he might not turn and espy me.

But Bacchus (of whom I read at school, with great wonder about his
meaning__and the same I may say of Venus) that great deity preserved
Charlie, his pious worshipper, from regarding consequences. So he led
me very kindly to the top of the meadow land, where the stream from
underground broke forth, seething quietly with a little hiss of bubbles.
Hence I had fair view and outline of the robbers' township, spread
with bushes here and there, but not heavily overshadowed. The moon,
approaching now the full, brought the forms in manner forth, clothing
each with character, as the moon (more than the sun) does, to an eye
accustomed.

I knew that the Captain's house was first, both from what Lorna had
said of it, and from my mother's description, and now again from seeing
Charlie halt there for a certain time, and whistle on his fingers, and
hurry on, fearing consequence. The tune that he whistled was strange to
me, and lingered in my ears, as having something very new and striking,
and fantastic in it. And I repeated it softly to myself, while I marked
the position of the houses and the beauty of the village. For the
stream, in lieu of any street, passing between the houses, and affording
perpetual change, and twinkling, and reflections moreover by its sleepy
murmur soothing all the dwellers there, this and the snugness of the
position, walled with rock and spread with herbage, made it look, in the
quiet moonlight, like a little paradise. And to think of all the inmates
there, sleeping with good consciences, having plied their useful trade
of making others work for them, enjoying life without much labour, yet
with great renown.

Master Charlie went down the village, and I followed him carefully,
keeping as much as possible in the shadowy places, and watching the
windows of every house, lest any light should be burning. As I passed
Sir Ensor's house, my heart leaped up, for I spied a window, higher than
the rest above the ground, and with a faint light moving. This could
hardly fail to be the room wherein my darling lay; for here that
impudent young fellow had gazed while he was whistling. And here my
courage grew tenfold, and my spirit feared no evil__for lo, if Lorna had
been surrendered to that scoundrel, Carver, she would not have been at
her grandfather's house, but in Carver's accursed dwelling.

Warm with this idea, I hurried after Charleworth Doone, being resolved
not to harm him now, unless my own life required it. And while I watched
from behind a tree, the door of the farthest house was opened; and sure
enough it was Carver's self, who stood bareheaded, and half undressed in
the doorway. I could see his great black chest, and arms, by the light
of the lamp he bore.

'Who wants me this time of night?' he grumbled, in a deep gruff voice;
'any young scamp prowling after the maids shall have sore bones for his
trouble.'

'All the fair maids are for thee, are they, Master Carver?' Charlie
answered, laughing; 'we young scamps must be well_content with coarser
stuff than thou wouldst have.'

'Would have? Ay, and will have,' the great beast muttered angrily. 'I
bide my time; but not very long. Only one word for thy good, Charlie. I
will fling thee senseless into the river, if ever I catch thy girl_face
there again.'

'Mayhap, Master Carver, it is more than thou couldst do. But I will not
keep thee; thou art not pleasant company to_night. All I want is a light
for my lanthorn, and a glass of schnapps, if thou hast it.'

'What is become of thy light, then? Good for thee I am not on duty.'

'A great owl flew between me and Phelps, as we watched beside the
culvern, and so scared was he at our fierce bright eyes that he fell and
knocked the light out.'

'Likely tale, or likely lie, Charles! We will have the truth to_morrow.
Here take thy light, and be gone with thee. All virtuous men are in bed
now.'

'Then so will I be, and why art thou not? Ha, have I earned my schnapps
now?'

'If thou hast, thou hast paid a bad debt; there is too much in thee
already. Be off! my patience is done with.'

Then he slammed the door in the young man's face, having kindled his
lanthorn by this time: and Charlie went up to the watchplace again,
muttering as he passed me, 'Bad look_out for all of us, when that surly
old beast is Captain. No gentle blood in him, no hospitality, not even
pleasant language, nor a good new oath in his frowsy pate! I've a mind
to cut the whole of it; and but for the girls I would so.'

My heart was in my mouth, as they say, when I stood in the shade by
Lorna's window, and whispered her name gently. The house was of one
story only, as the others were, with pine_ends standing forth the stone,
and only two rough windows upon that western side of it, and perhaps
both of them were Lorna's. The Doones had been their own builders, for
no one should know their ins and outs; and of course their work was
clumsy. As for their windows, they stole them mostly from the houses
round about. But though the window was not very close, I might have
whispered long enough, before she would have answered me; frightened as
she was, no doubt by many a rude overture. And I durst not speak
aloud because I saw another watchman posted on the western cliff, and
commanding all the valley. And now this man (having no companion for
drinking or for gambling) espied me against the wall of the house, and
advanced to the brink, and challenged me.

'Who are you there? Answer! One, two, three; and I fire at thee.'

The nozzle of his gun was pointed full upon me, as I could see, with the
moonlight striking on the barrel; he was not more than fifty yards off,
and now he began to reckon. Being almost desperate about it, I began to
whistle, wondering how far I should get before I lost my windpipe:
and as luck would have it, my lips fell into that strange tune I
had practised last; the one I had heard from Charlie. My mouth would
scarcely frame the notes, being parched with terror; but to my surprise,
the man fell back, dropped his gun, and saluted. Oh, sweetest of all
sweet melodies!

That tune was Carver Doone's passport (as I heard long afterwards),
which Charleworth Doone had imitated, for decoy of Lorna. The sentinel
took me for that vile Carver; who was like enough to be prowling there,
for private talk with Lorna; but not very likely to shout forth his
name, if it might be avoided. The watchman, perceiving the danger
perhaps of intruding on Carver's privacy, not only retired along the
cliff, but withdrew himself to good distance.

Meanwhile he had done me the kindest service; for Lorna came to the
window at once, to see what the cause of the shout was, and drew back
the curtain timidly. Then she opened the rough lattice; and then she
watched the cliff and trees; and then she sighed very sadly.

'Oh, Lorna, don't you know me?' I whispered from the side, being afraid
of startling her by appearing over suddenly.

Quick though she always was of thought, she knew me not from my whisper,
and was shutting the window hastily when I caught it back, and showed
myself.

'John!' she cried, yet with sense enough not to speak aloud: 'oh, you
must be mad, John.'

'As mad as a March hare,' said I, 'without any news of my darling. You
knew I would come: of course you did.'

'Well, I thought, perhaps__you know: now, John, you need not eat my
hand. Do you see they have put iron bars across?'

'To be sure. Do you think I should be contented, even with this lovely
hand, but for these vile iron bars. I will have them out before I go.
Now, darling, for one moment__just the other hand, for a change, you
know.'

So I got the other, but was not honest; for I kept them both, and felt
their delicate beauty trembling, as I laid them to my heart.

'Oh, John, you will make me cry directly'__she had been crying long
ago__'if you go on in that way. You know we can never have one another;
every one is against it. Why should I make you miserable? Try not to
think of me any more.'

'And will you try the same of me, Lorna?'

'Oh yes, John; if you agree to it. At least I will try to try it.'

'Then you won't try anything of the sort,' I cried with great
enthusiasm, for her tone was so nice and melancholy: 'the only thing
we will try to try, is to belong to one another. And if we do our best,
Lorna, God alone can prevent us.'

She crossed herself, with one hand drawn free as I spoke so boldly;
and something swelled in her little throat, and prevented her from
answering.

'Now tell me,' I said; 'what means all this? Why are you so pent up
here? Why have you given me no token? Has your grandfather turned
against you? Are you in any danger?'

'My poor grandfather is very ill: I fear that he will not live long. The
Counsellor and his son are now the masters of the valley; and I dare
not venture forth, for fear of anything they might do to me. When I went
forth, to signal for you, Carver tried to seize me; but I was too quick
for him. Little Gwenny is not allowed to leave the valley now; so that
I could send no message. I have been so wretched, dear, lest you should
think me false to you. The tyrants now make sure of me. You must watch
this house, both night and day, if you wish to save me. There is nothing
they would shrink from; if my poor grandfather__oh, I cannot bear to
think of myself, when I ought to think of him only; dying without a son
to tend him, or a daughter to shed a tear.'

'But surely he has sons enough; and a deal too many,' I was going to
say, but stopped myself in time: 'why do none of them come to him?'

'I know not. I cannot tell. He is a very strange old man; and few have
ever loved him. He was black with wrath at the Counsellor, this very
afternoon__but I must not keep you here__you are much too brave, John;
and I am much too selfish: there, what was that shadow?'

'Nothing more than a bat, darling, come to look for his sweetheart. I
will not stay long; you tremble so: and yet for that very reason, how
can I leave you, Lorna?'

'You must__you must,' she answered; 'I shall die if they hurt you. I
hear the old nurse moving. Grandfather is sure to send for me. Keep back
from the window.'

However, it was only Gwenny Carfax, Lorna's little handmaid: my darling
brought her to the window and presented her to me, almost laughing
through her grief.

'Oh, I am so glad, John; Gwenny, I am so glad you came. I have wanted
long to introduce you to my "young man," as you call him. It is rather
dark, but you can see him. I wish you to know him again, Gwenny.'

'Whoy!' cried Gwenny, with great amazement, standing on tiptoe to look
out, and staring as if she were weighing me: 'her be bigger nor any
Doone! Heared as her have bate our Cornish champion awrastling. 'Twadn't
fair play nohow: no, no; don't tell me, 'twadn't fair play nohow.'

'True enough, Gwenny,' I answered her; for the play had been very unfair
indeed on the side of the Bodmin champion; 'it was not a fair bout,
little maid; I am free to acknowledge that.' By that answer, or rather
by the construction she put upon it, the heart of the Cornish girl was
won, more than by gold and silver.

'I shall knoo thee again, young man; no fear of that,' she answered,
nodding with an air of patronage. 'Now, missis, gae on coortin', and
I wall gae outside and watch for 'ee.' Though expressed not over
delicately, this proposal arose, no doubt, from Gwenny's sense of
delicacy; and I was very thankful to her for taking her departure.

'She is the best little thing in the world,' said Lorna, softly
laughing; 'and the queerest, and the truest. Nothing will bribe her
against me. If she seems to be on the other side, never, never doubt
her. Now no more of your "coortin'," John! I love you far too well for
that. Yes, yes, ever so much! If you will take a mean advantage of me.
And as much as ever you like to imagine; and then you may double it,
after that. Only go, do go, good John; kind, dear, darling John; if you
love me, go.'

'How can I go without settling anything?' I asked very sensibly. 'How
shall I know of your danger now? Hit upon something; you are so quick.
Anything you can think of; and then I will go, and not frighten you.'

'I have been thinking long of something,' Lorna answered rapidly, with
that peculiar clearness of voice which made every syllable ring like
music of a several note, 'you see that tree with the seven rooks' nests
bright against the cliffs there? Can you count them, from above, do you
think? From a place where you will be safe, dear'__

'No doubt, I can; or if I cannot, it will not take me long to find a
spot, whence I can do it.'

'Gwenny can climb like any cat. She has been up there in the summer,
watching the young birds, day by day, and daring the boys to touch them.
There are neither birds, nor eggs there now, of course, and nothing
doing. If you see but six rooks' nests; I am in peril and want you. If
you see but five, I am carried off by Carver.'

'Good God!' said I, at the mere idea; in a tone which frightened Lorna.

'Fear not, John,' she whispered sadly, and my blood grew cold at it:
'I have means to stop him; or at least to save myself. If you can come
within one day of that man's getting hold of me, you will find me quite
unharmed. After that you will find me dead, or alive, according to
circumstances, but in no case such that you need blush to look at me.'

Her dear sweet face was full of pride, as even in the gloom I saw: and I
would not trespass on her feelings by such a thing, at such a moment, as
an attempt at any caress. I only said, 'God bless you, darling!' and
she said the same to me, in a very low sad voice. And then I stole below
Carver's house, in the shadow from the eastern cliff; and knowing
enough of the village now to satisfy all necessity, betook myself to my
well_known track in returning from the valley; which was neither down
the waterslide (a course I feared in the darkness) nor up the cliffs at
Lorna's bower; but a way of my own inventing, which there is no need to
dwell upon.

A weight of care was off my mind; though much of trouble hung there
still. One thing was quite certain__if Lorna could not have John Ridd,
no one else should have her. And my mother, who sat up for me, and with
me long time afterwards, agreed that this was comfort.



Lorna Doone by R. D. Blackmore Deluxe Edition Chapter 38

A GOOD TURN FOR JEREMY

John Fry had now six shillings a week of regular and permanent wage,
besides all harvest and shearing money, as well as a cottage rent_free,
and enough of garden_ground to rear pot_herbs for his wife and all
his family. Now the wages appointed by our justices, at the time of
sessions, were four_and_sixpence a week for summer, and a shilling less
for the winter_time; and we could be fined, and perhaps imprisoned, for
giving more than the sums so fixed. Therefore John Fry was looked upon
as the richest man upon Exmoor, I mean of course among labourers, and
there were many jokes about robbing him, as if he were the mint of the
King; and Tom Faggus promised to try his hand, if he came across John
on the highway, although he had ceased from business, and was seeking a
Royal pardon.

Now is it according to human nature, or is it a thing contradictory
(as I would fain believe)? But anyhow, there was, upon Exmoor, no more
discontented man, no man more sure that he had not his worth, neither
half so sore about it, than, or as, John Fry was. And one thing he did
which I could not wholly (or indeed I may say, in any measure)
reconcile with my sense of right, much as I laboured to do John justice,
especially because of his roguery; and this was, that if we said too
much, or accused him at all of laziness (which he must have known to be
in him), he regularly turned round upon us, and quite compelled us
to hold our tongues, by threatening to lay information against us for
paying him too much wages!

Now I have not mentioned all this of John Fry, from any disrespect for
his memory (which is green and honest amongst us), far less from any
desire to hurt the feelings of his grandchildren; and I will do them the
justice, once for all, to avow, thus publicly, that I have known a great
many bigger rogues, and most of themselves in the number. But I have
referred, with moderation, to this little flaw in a worthy character (or
foible, as we call it, when a man is dead) for this reason only__that
without it there was no explaining John's dealings with Jeremy Stickles.

Master Jeremy, being full of London and Norwich experience, fell into
the error of supposing that we clods and yokels were the simplest of the
simple, and could be cheated at his good pleasure. Now this is not so:
when once we suspect that people have that idea of us, we indulge them
in it to the top of their bent, and grieve that they should come out of
it, as they do at last in amazement, with less money than before, and
the laugh now set against them.

Ever since I had offended Jeremy, by threatening him (as before related)
in case of his meddling with my affairs, he had more and more allied
himself with simple_minded John, as he was pleased to call him. John
Fry was everything: it was 'run and fetch my horse, John'__'John, are my
pistols primed well?'__'I want you in the stable, John, about something
very particular', until except for the rudeness of it, I was longing
to tell Master Stickles that he ought to pay John's wages. John for
his part was not backward, but gave himself the most wonderful airs of
secrecy and importance, till half the parish began to think that the
affairs of the nation were in his hand, and he scorned the sight of a
dungfork.

It was not likely that this should last; and being the only man in the
parish with any knowledge of politics, I gave John Fry to understand
that he must not presume to talk so freely, as if he were at least a
constable, about the constitution; which could be no affair of his, and
might bring us all into trouble. At this he only tossed his nose, as if
he had been in London at least three times for my one; which vexed me so
that I promised him the thick end of the plough_whip if even the name of
a knight of the shire should pass his lips for a fortnight.

Now I did not suspect in my stupid noddle that John Fry would ever tell
Jeremy Stickles about the sight at the Wizard's Slough and the man in
the white nightcap; because John had sworn on the blade of his knife not
to breathe a word to any soul, without my full permission. However, it
appears that John related, for a certain consideration, all that he
had seen, and doubtless more which had accrued to it. Upon this Master
Stickles was much astonished at Uncle Reuben's proceedings, having
always accounted him a most loyal, keen, and wary subject.

All this I learned upon recovering Jeremy's good graces, which came to
pass in no other way than by the saving of his life. Being bound to keep
the strictest watch upon the seven rooks' nests, and yet not bearing
to be idle and to waste my mother's stores, I contrived to keep my work
entirely at the western corner of our farm, which was nearest to Glen
Doone, and whence I could easily run to a height commanding the view I
coveted.

One day Squire Faggus had dropped in upon us, just in time for dinner;
and very soon he and King's messenger were as thick as need be. Tom had
brought his beloved mare to show her off to Annie, and he mounted his
pretty sweetheart upon her, after giving Winnie notice to be on her
very best behaviour. The squire was in great spirits, having just
accomplished a purchase of land which was worth ten times what he gave
for it; and this he did by a merry trick upon old Sir Roger Bassett, who
never supposed him to be in earnest, as not possessing the money. The
whole thing was done on a bumper of claret in a tavern where they met;
and the old knight having once pledged his word, no lawyers could
hold him back from it. They could only say that Master Faggus, being
attainted of felony, was not a capable grantee. 'I will soon cure that,'
quoth Tom, 'my pardon has been ready for months and months, so soon as I
care to sue it.'

And now he was telling our Annie, who listened very rosily, and believed
every word he said, that, having been ruined in early innocence by the
means of lawyers, it was only just, and fair turn for turn, that having
become a match for them by long practice upon the highway, he should
reinstate himself, at their expense, in society. And now he would go
to London at once, and sue out his pardon, and then would his lovely
darling Annie, etc., etc.__things which I had no right to hear, and in
which I was not wanted.

Therefore I strode away up the lane to my afternoon's employment, sadly
comparing my love with theirs (which now appeared so prosperous), yet
heartily glad for Annie's sake; only remembering now and then the old
proverb 'Wrong never comes right.'

I worked very hard in the copse of young ash, with my billhook and a
shearing_knife; cutting out the saplings where they stooled too close
together, making spars to keep for thatching, wall_crooks to drive into
the cob, stiles for close sheep hurdles, and handles for rakes, and
hoes, and two_bills, of the larger and straighter stuff. And all the
lesser I bound in faggots, to come home on the sledd to the woodrick.
It is not to be supposed that I did all this work, without many peeps at
the seven rooks' nests, which proved my Lorna's safety. Indeed, whenever
I wanted a change, either from cleaving, or hewing too hard, or stooping
too much at binding, I was up and away to the ridge of the hill, instead
of standing and doing nothing.

Soon I forgot about Tom and Annie; and fell to thinking of Lorna only;
and how much I would make of her; and what I should call our children;
and how I would educate them, to do honour to her rank; yet all the time
I worked none the worse, by reason of meditation. Fresh_cut spars are
not so good as those of a little seasoning; especially if the sap
was not gone down at the time of cutting. Therefore we always find it
needful to have plenty still in stock.

It was very pleasant there in the copse, sloping to the west as it was,
and the sun descending brightly, with rocks and banks to dwell upon. The
stems of mottled and dimpled wood, with twigs coming out like elbows,
hung and clung together closely, with a mode of bending in, as children
do at some danger; overhead the shrunken leaves quivered and rustled
ripely, having many points like stars, and rising and falling
delicately, as fingers play sad music. Along the bed of the slanting
ground, all between the stools of wood, there were heaps of dead brown
leaves, and sheltered mats of lichen, and drifts of spotted stick gone
rotten, and tufts of rushes here and there, full of fray and feathering.

All by the hedge ran a little stream, a thing that could barely name
itself, flowing scarce more than a pint in a minute, because of the
sunny weather. Yet had this rill little crooks and crannies dark and
bravely bearded, and a gallant rush through a reeden pipe__the stem of
a flag that was grounded; and here and there divided threads, from the
points of a branching stick, into mighty pools of rock (as large as a
grown man's hat almost) napped with moss all around the sides and hung
with corded grasses. Along and down the tiny banks, and nodding into one
another, even across main channel, hung the brown arcade of ferns; some
with gold tongues languishing; some with countless ear_drops jerking,
some with great quilled ribs uprising and long saws aflapping; others
cupped, and fanning over with the grace of yielding, even as a hollow
fountain spread by winds that have lost their way.

Deeply each beyond other, pluming, stooping, glancing, glistening,
weaving softest pillow lace, coying to the wind and water, when their
fleeting image danced, or by which their beauty moved,__God has made no
lovelier thing; and only He takes heed of them.

It was time to go home to supper now, and I felt very friendly towards
it, having been hard at work for some hours, with only the voice of the
little rill, and some hares and a pheasant for company. The sun was gone
down behind the black wood on the farther cliffs of Bagworthy, and the
russet of the tufts and spear_beds was becoming gray, while the greyness
of the sapling ash grew brown against the sky; the hollow curves of
the little stream became black beneath the grasses and the fairy fans
innumerable, while outside the hedge our clover was crimping its leaves
in the dewfall, like the cocked hats of wood_sorrel,__when, thanking God
for all this scene, because my love had gifted me with the key to all
things lovely, I prepared to follow their example, and to rest from
labour.

Therefore I wiped my bill_hook and shearing_knife very carefully, for
I hate to leave tools dirty; and was doubting whether I should try for
another glance at the seven rooks' nests, or whether it would be too
dark for it. It was now a quarter of an hour mayhap, since I had made
any chopping noise, because I had been assorting my spars, and tying
them in bundles, instead of plying the bill_hook; and the gentle tinkle
of the stream was louder than my doings. To this, no doubt, I owe my
life, which then (without my dreaming it) was in no little jeopardy.

For, just as I was twisting the bine of my very last faggot, before
tucking the cleft tongue under, there came three men outside the hedge,
where the western light was yellow; and by it I could see that all three
of them carried firearms. These men were not walking carelessly, but
following down the hedge_trough, as if to stalk some enemy: and for a
moment it struck me cold to think it was I they were looking for. With
the swiftness of terror I concluded that my visits to Glen Doone were
known, and now my life was the forfeit.

It was a most lucky thing for me, that I heard their clothes catch in
the brambles, and saw their hats under the rampart of ash, which is made
by what we call 'splashing,' and lucky, for me that I stood in a goyal,
and had the dark coppice behind me. To this I had no time to fly, but
with a sort of instinct, threw myself flat in among the thick fern, and
held my breath, and lay still as a log. For I had seen the light gleam
on their gun_barrels, and knowing the faults of the neighbourhood, would
fain avoid swelling their number. Then the three men came to the gap
in the hedge, where I had been in and out so often; and stood up, and
looked in over.

It is all very well for a man to boast that, in all his life, he has
never been frightened, and believes that he never could be so. There
may be men of that nature__I will not dare to deny it; only I have
never known them. The fright I was now in was horrible, and all my bones
seemed to creep inside me; when lying there helpless, with only a billet
and the comb of fern to hide me, in the dusk of early evening, I saw
three faces in the gap; and what was worse, three gun_muzzles.

'Somebody been at work here__' it was the deep voice of Carver Doone;
'jump up, Charlie, and look about; we must have no witnesses.'

'Give me a hand behind,' said Charlie, the same handsome young Doone I
had seen that night; 'this bank is too devilish steep for me.'

'Nonsense, man!' cried Marwood de Whichehalse, who to my amazement was
the third of the number; 'only a hind cutting faggots; and of course he
hath gone home long ago. Blind man's holiday, as we call it. I can see
all over the place; and there is not even a rabbit there.'

At that I drew my breath again, and thanked God I had gotten my coat on.

'Squire is right,' said Charlie, who was standing up high (on a root
perhaps), 'there is nobody there now, captain; and lucky for the poor
devil that he keepeth workman's hours. Even his chopper is gone, I see.'

'No dog, no man, is the rule about here, when it comes to coppice work,'
continued young de Whichehalse; there is not a man would dare work
there, without a dog to scare the pixies.'

'There is a big young fellow upon this farm,' Carver Doone muttered
sulkily, 'with whom I have an account to settle, if ever I come across
him. He hath a cursed spite to us, because we shot his father. He was
going to bring the lumpers upon us, only he was afeared, last winter.
And he hath been in London lately, for some traitorous job, I doubt.'

'Oh, you mean that fool, John Ridd,' answered the young squire; 'a very
simple clod_hopper. No treachery in him I warrant; he hath not the head
for it. All he cares about is wrestling. As strong as a bull, and with
no more brains.'

'A bullet for that bull,' said Carver; and I could see the grin on his
scornful face; 'a bullet for ballast to his brain, the first time I come
across him.'

'Nonsense, captain! I won't have him shot, for he is my old
school_fellow, and hath a very pretty sister. But his cousin is of a
different mould, and ten times as dangerous.'

'We shall see, lads, we shall see,' grumbled the great black_bearded
man. 'Ill bodes for the fool that would hinder me. But come, let us
onward. No lingering, or the viper will be in the bush from us. Body and
soul, if he give us the slip, both of you shall answer it.'

'No fear, captain, and no hurry,' Charlie answered gallantly, 'would I
were as sure of living a twelvemonth as he is of dying within the hour!
Extreme unction for him in my bullet patch. Remember, I claim to be his
confessor, because he hath insulted me.'

'Thou art welcome to the job for me,' said Marwood, as they turned away,
and kept along the hedge_row; 'I love to meet a man sword to sword; not
to pop at him from a foxhole.'

What answer was made I could not hear, for by this time the stout ashen
hedge was between us, and no other gap to be found in it, until at the
very bottom, where the corner of the copse was. Yet I was not quit of
danger now; for they might come through that second gap, and then would
be sure to see me, unless I crept into the uncut thicket, before they
could enter the clearing. But in spite of all my fear, I was not wise
enough to do that. And in truth the words of Carver Doone had filled me
with such anger, knowing what I did about him and his pretence to Lorna;
and the sight of Squire Marwood, in such outrageous company, had so
moved my curiosity, and their threats against some unknown person so
aroused my pity, that much of my prudence was forgotten, or at least the
better part of courage, which loves danger at long distance.

Therefore, holding fast my bill_hook, I dropped myself very quietly
into the bed of the runnel, being resolved to take my chance of their
entrance at the corner, where the water dived through the hedge_row. And
so I followed them down the fence, as gently as a rabbit goes, only I
was inside it, and they on the outside; but yet so near that I heard the
branches rustle as they pushed them.

Perhaps I had never loved ferns so much as when I came to the end of
that little gully, and stooped betwixt two patches of them, now my
chiefest shelter, for cattle had been through the gap just there, in
quest of fodder and coolness, and had left but a mound of trodden earth
between me and the outlaws. I mean at least on my left hand (upon which
side they were), for in front where the brook ran out of the copse was a
good stiff hedge of holly. And now I prayed Heaven to lead them straight
on; for if they once turned to their right, through the gap, the muzzles
of their guns would come almost against my forehead.

I heard them, for I durst not look; and could scarce keep still for
trembling__I heard them trampling outside the gap, uncertain which track
they should follow. And in that fearful moment, with my soul almost
looking out of my body, expecting notice to quit it, what do you think
I did? I counted the threads in a spider's web, and the flies he had
lately eaten, as their skeletons shook in the twilight.

'We shall see him better in there,' said Carver, in his horrible gruff
voice, like the creaking of the gallows chain; 'sit there, behind holly
hedge, lads, while he cometh down yonder hill; and then our good_evening
to him; one at his body, and two at his head; and good aim, lest we
baulk the devil.'

'I tell you, captain, that will not do,' said Charlie, almost
whispering: 'you are very proud of your skill, we know, and can hit a
lark if you see it: but he may not come until after dark, and we cannot
be too nigh to him. This holly hedge is too far away. He crosses down
here from Slocomslade, not from Tibbacot, I tell you; but along that
track to the left there, and so by the foreland to Glenthorne, where his
boat is in the cove. Do you think I have tracked him so many evenings,
without knowing his line to a hair? Will you fool away all my trouble?'

'Come then, lad, we will follow thy lead. Thy life for his, if we fail
of it.'

'After me then, right into the hollow; thy legs are growing stiff,
captain.'

'So shall thy body be, young man, if thou leadest me astray in this.'

I heard them stumbling down the hill, which was steep and rocky in that
part; and peering through the hedge, I saw them enter a covert, by the
side of the track which Master Stickles followed, almost every evening,
when he left our house upon business. And then I knew who it was they
were come on purpose to murder__a thing which I might have guessed long
before, but for terror and cold stupidity.

'Oh that God,' I thought for a moment, waiting for my blood to flow; 'Oh
that God had given me brains, to meet such cruel dastards according to
their villainy! The power to lie, and the love of it; the stealth to
spy, and the glory in it; above all, the quiet relish for blood, and joy
in the death of an enemy__these are what any man must have, to contend
with the Doones upon even terms. And yet, I thank God that I have not
any of these.'

It was no time to dwell upon that, only to try, if might be, to prevent
the crime they were bound upon. To follow the armed men down the hill
would have been certain death to me, because there was no covert there,
and the last light hung upon it. It seemed to me that my only chance to
stop the mischief pending was to compass the round of the hill, as fast
as feet could be laid to ground; only keeping out of sight from the
valley, and then down the rocks, and across the brook, to the track from
Slocombslade: so as to stop the King's messenger from travelling any
farther, if only I could catch him there.

And this was exactly what I did; and a terrible run I had for it,
fearing at every step to hear the echo of shots in the valley, and
dropping down the scrubby rocks with tearing and violent scratching.
Then I crossed Bagworthy stream, not far below Doone_valley, and
breasted the hill towards Slocombslade, with my heart very heavily
panting. Why Jeremy chose to ride this way, instead of the more direct
one (which would have been over Oare_hill), was more than I could account
for: but I had nothing to do with that; all I wanted was to save his
life.

And this I did by about a minute; and (which was the hardest thing of
all) with a great horse_pistol at my head as I seized upon his bridle.

'Jeremy, Jerry,' was all I could say, being so fearfully short of
breath; for I had crossed the ground quicker than any horse could.

'Spoken just in time, John Ridd!' cried Master Stickles, still however
pointing the pistol at me: 'I might have known thee by thy size, John.
What art doing here?'

'Come to save your life. For God's sake, go no farther. Three men in the
covert there, with long guns, waiting for thee.'

'Ha! I have been watched of late. That is why I pointed at thee, John.
Back round this corner, and get thy breath, and tell me all about it. I
never saw a man so hurried. I could beat thee now, John.'

Jeremy Stickles was a man of courage, and presence of mind, and much
resource: otherwise he would not have been appointed for this business;
nevertheless he trembled greatly when he heard what I had to tell
him. But I took good care to keep back the name of young Marwood de
Whichehalse; neither did I show my knowledge of the other men; for
reasons of my own not very hard to conjecture.

'We will let them cool their heels, John Ridd,' said Jeremy, after
thinking a little. 'I cannot fetch my musketeers either from Glenthorne
or Lynmouth, in time to seize the fellows. And three desperate Doones,
well_armed, are too many for you and me. One result this attempt will
have, it will make us attack them sooner than we had intended. And one
more it will have, good John, it will make me thy friend for ever. Shake
hands my lad, and forgive me freely for having been so cold to thee.
Mayhap, in the troubles coming, it will help thee not a little to have
done me this good turn.'

Upon this he shook me by the hand, with a pressure such as we feel not
often; and having learned from me how to pass quite beyond view of his
enemies, he rode on to his duty, whatever it might be. For my part I was
inclined to stay, and watch how long the three fusiliers would have the
patience to lie in wait; but seeing less and less use in that, as I
grew more and more hungry, I swung my coat about me, and went home to
Plover's Barrows.



Lorna Doone by R. D. Blackmore Deluxe Edition Chapter 39

TROUBLED STATE AND A FOOLISH JOKE

Stickles took me aside the next day, and opened all his business to me,
whether I would or not. But I gave him clearly to understand that he was
not to be vexed with me, neither to regard me as in any way dishonest,
if I should use for my own purpose, or for the benefit of my friends,
any part of the knowledge and privity thus enforced upon me. To this he
agreed quite readily; but upon the express provision that I should
do nothing to thwart his schemes, neither unfold them to any one; but
otherwise be allowed to act according to my own conscience, and as
consisted with the honour of a loyal gentleman__for so he was pleased to
term me. Now what he said lay in no great compass and may be summed in
smaller still; especially as people know the chief part of it already.
Disaffection to the King, or rather dislike to his brother James, and
fear of Roman ascendancy, had existed now for several years, and of late
were spreading rapidly; partly through the downright arrogance of
the Tory faction, the cruelty and austerity of the Duke of York, the
corruption of justice, and confiscation of ancient rights and charters;
partly through jealousy of the French king, and his potent voice in our
affairs; and partly (or perhaps one might even say, mainly) through that
natural tide in all political channels, which verily moves as if it had
the moon itself for its mistress. No sooner is a thing done and fixed,
being set far in advance perhaps of all that was done before (like a new
mole in the sea), but immediately the waters retire, lest they should
undo it; and every one says how fine it is, but leaves other people to
walk on it. Then after awhile, the vague endless ocean, having retired
and lain still without a breeze or murmur, frets and heaves again with
impulse, or with lashes laid on it, and in one great surge advances over
every rampart.

And so there was at the time I speak of, a great surge in England, not
rolling yet, but seething; and one which a thousand Chief Justices,
and a million Jeremy Stickles, should never be able to stop or turn,
by stringing up men in front of it; any more than a rope of onions can
repulse a volcano. But the worst of it was that this great movement took
a wrong channel at first; not only missing legitimate line, but roaring
out that the back ditchway was the true and established course of it.

Against this rash and random current nearly all the ancient mariners of
the State were set; not to allow the brave ship to drift there, though
some little boats might try it. For the present there seemed to be
a pause, with no open onset, but people on the shore expecting, each
according to his wishes, and the feel of his own finger, whence the rush
of wind should come which might direct the water.

Now,__to reduce high figures of speech into our own little
numerals,__all the towns of Somersetshire and half the towns of
Devonshire were full of pushing eager people, ready to swallow anything,
or to make others swallow it. Whether they believed the folly about the
black box, and all that stuff, is not for me to say; only one thing
I know, they pretended to do so, and persuaded the ignorant rustics.
Taunton, Bridgwater, Minehead, and Dulverton took the lead of the other
towns in utterance of their discontent, and threats of what they meant
to do if ever a Papist dared to climb the Protestant throne of England.
On the other hand, the Tory leaders were not as yet under apprehension
of an immediate outbreak, and feared to damage their own cause by
premature coercion, for the struggle was not very likely to begin in
earnest during the life of the present King; unless he should (as some
people hoped) be so far emboldened as to make public profession of
the faith which he held (if any). So the Tory policy was to watch, not
indeed permitting their opponents to gather strength, and muster in
armed force or with order, but being well apprised of all their schemes
and intended movements, to wait for some bold overt act, and then to
strike severely. And as a Tory watchman__or spy, as the Whigs would call
him__Jeremy Stickles was now among us; and his duty was threefold.

First, and most ostensibly, to see to the levying of poundage in the
little haven of Lynmouth, and farther up the coast, which was now
becoming a place of resort for the folk whom we call smugglers, that is
to say, who land their goods without regard to King's revenue as by
law established. And indeed there had been no officer appointed to take
toll, until one had been sent to Minehead, not so very long before.
The excise as well (which had been ordered in the time of the Long
Parliament) had been little heeded by the people hereabouts.

Second, his duty was (though only the Doones had discovered it) to watch
those outlaws narrowly, and report of their manners (which were scanty),
doings (which were too manifold), reputation (which was execrable), and
politics, whether true to the King and the Pope, or otherwise.

Jeremy Stickles' third business was entirely political; to learn the
temper of our people and the gentle families, to watch the movements of
the trained bands (which could not always be trusted), to discover any
collecting of arms and drilling of men among us, to prevent (if need
were, by open force) any importation of gunpowder, of which there had
been some rumour; in a word, to observe and forestall the enemy.

Now in providing for this last_mentioned service, the Government had
made a great mistake, doubtless through their anxiety to escape any
public attention. For all the disposable force at their emissary's
command amounted to no more than a score of musketeers, and these
so divided along the coast as scarcely to suffice for the duty of
sentinels. He held a commission, it is true, for the employment of the
train_bands, but upon the understanding that he was not to call upon
them (except as a last resource), for any political object; although
he might use them against the Doones as private criminals, if found
needful; and supposing that he could get them.

'So you see, John,' he said in conclusion, 'I have more work than tools
to do it with. I am heartily sorry I ever accepted such a mixed and
meagre commission. At the bottom of it lies (I am well convinced) not
only the desire to keep things quiet, but the paltry jealousy of the
military people. Because I am not a Colonel, forsooth, or a Captain in
His Majesty's service, it would never do to trust me with a company of
soldiers! And yet they would not send either Colonel or Captain, for
fear of a stir in the rustic mind. The only thing that I can do with
any chance of success, is to rout out these vile Doone fellows, and burn
their houses over their heads. Now what think you of that, John Ridd?'

'Destroy the town of the Doones,' I said, 'and all the Doones inside it!
Surely, Jeremy, you would never think of such a cruel act as that!'

'A cruel act, John! It would be a mercy for at least three counties. No
doubt you folk, who live so near, are well accustomed to them, and would
miss your liveliness in coming home after nightfall, and the joy of
finding your sheep and cattle right, when you not expected it. But after
awhile you might get used to the dullness of being safe in your beds,
and not losing your sisters and sweethearts. Surely, on the whole, it is
as pleasant not to be robbed as to be robbed.'

'I think we should miss them very much,' I answered after consideration;
for the possibility of having no Doones had never yet occurred to me,
and we all were so thoroughly used to them, and allowed for it in
our year's reckoning; 'I am sure we should miss them very sadly; and
something worse would come of it.'

'Thou art the staunchest of all staunch Tories,' cried Stickles,
laughing, as he shook my hand; 'thou believest in the divine right of
robbers, who are good enough to steal thy own fat sheep. I am a jolly
Tory, John, but thou art ten times jollier: oh! the grief in thy face at
the thought of being robbed no longer!'

He laughed in a very unseemly manner; while I descried nothing to laugh
about. For we always like to see our way; and a sudden change upsets us.
And unless it were in the loss of the farm, or the death of the King, or
of Betty Muxworthy, there was nothing that could so unsettle our minds
as the loss of the Doones of Bagworthy.

And beside all this, I was thinking, of course, and thinking more than
all the rest, about the troubles that might ensue to my own beloved
Lorna. If an attack of Glen Doone were made by savage soldiers and
rude train_bands, what might happen, or what might not, to my delicate,
innocent darling? Therefore, when Jeremy Stickles again placed the
matter before me, commending my strength and courage and skill (to
flatter me of the highest), and finished by saying that I would be worth
at least four common men to him, I cut him short as follows:__

'Master Stickles, once for all, I will have naught to do with it. The
reason why is no odds of thine, nor in any way disloyal. Only in thy
plans remember that I will not strike a blow, neither give any counsel,
neither guard any prisoners.'

'Not strike a blow,' cried Jeremy, 'against thy father's murderers,
John!'

'Not a single blow, Jeremy; unless I knew the man who did it, and he
gloried in his sin. It was a foul and dastard deed, yet not done in cold
blood; neither in cold blood will I take God's task of avenging it.'

'Very well, John,' answered Master Stickles, 'I know thine obstinacy.
When thy mind is made up, to argue with thee is pelting a rock with
peppercorns. But thou hast some other reason, lad, unless I am much
mistaken, over and above thy merciful nature and Christian forgiveness.
Anyhow, come and see it, John. There will be good sport, I reckon;
especially when we thrust our claws into the nest of the ravens. Many
a yeoman will find his daughter, and some of the Porlock lads their
sweethearts. A nice young maiden, now, for thee, John; if indeed, any__'

'No more of this!' I answered very sternly: 'it is no business of thine,
Jeremy; and I will have no joking upon this matter.'

'Good, my lord; so be it. But one thing I tell thee in earnest. We will
have thy old double_dealing uncle, Huckaback of Dulverton, and march him
first to assault Doone Castle, sure as my name is Stickles. I hear that
he hath often vowed to storm the valley himself, if only he could find a
dozen musketeers to back him. Now, we will give him chance to do it, and
prove his loyalty to the King, which lies under some suspicion of late.'

With regard to this, I had nothing to say; for it seemed to me very
reasonable that Uncle Reuben should have first chance of recovering his
stolen goods, about which he had made such a sad to_do, and promised
himself such vengeance. I made bold, however, to ask Master Stickles at
what time he intended to carry out this great and hazardous attempt. He
answered that he had several things requiring first to be set in order,
and that he must make an inland Journey, even as far as Tiverton, and
perhaps Crediton and Exeter, to collect his forces and ammunition
for them. For he meant to have some of the yeomanry as well as of the
trained bands, so that if the Doones should sally forth, as perhaps they
would, on horseback, cavalry might be there to meet them, and cut them
off from returning.

All this made me very uncomfortable, for many and many reasons, the
chief and foremost being of course my anxiety about Lorna. If the attack
succeeded, what was to become of her? Who would rescue her from the
brutal soldiers, even supposing that she escaped from the hands of her
own people, during the danger and ferocity? And in smaller ways, I was
much put out; for instance, who would ensure our corn_ricks, sheep, and
cattle, ay, and even our fat pigs, now coming on for bacon, against the
spreading all over the country of unlicensed marauders? The Doones
had their rights, and understood them, and took them according to
prescription, even as the parsons had, and the lords of manors, and the
King himself, God save him! But how were these low soldiering fellows
(half_starved at home very likely, and only too glad of the fat of the
land, and ready, according to our proverb, to burn the paper they
fried in), who were they to come hectoring and heroing over us, and
Heliogabalising, with our pretty sisters to cook for them, and be
chucked under chin perhaps afterwards? There is nothing England hates
so much, according to my sense of it, as that fellows taken from
plough_tail, cart_tail, pot_houses and parish_stocks, should be hoisted
and foisted upon us (after a few months' drilling, and their lying
shaped into truckling) as defenders of the public weal, and heroes of
the universe.

In another way I was vexed, moreover__for after all we must consider the
opinions of our neighbours__namely, that I knew quite well how everybody
for ten miles round (for my fame must have been at least that wide,
after all my wrestling), would lift up hands and cry out thus__'Black
shame on John Ridd, if he lets them go without him!'

Putting all these things together, as well as many others, which our
own wits will suggest to you, it is impossible but what you will freely
acknowledge that this unfortunate John Ridd was now in a cloven stick.
There was Lorna, my love and life, bound by her duty to that old
vil__nay, I mean to her good grandfather, who could now do little
mischief, and therefore deserved all praise__Lorna bound, at any rate,
by her womanly feelings, if not by sense of duty, to remain in the thick
danger, with nobody to protect her, but everybody to covet her, for
beauty and position. Here was all the country roused with violent
excitement, at the chance of snapping at the Doones; and not only
getting tit for tat; but every young man promising his sweetheart a
gold chain, and his mother at least a shilling. And here was our own
mow_yard, better filled than we could remember, and perhaps every sheaf
in it destined to be burned or stolen, before we had finished the bread
we had baked.

Among all these troubles, there was, however, or seemed to be, one
comfort. Tom Faggus returned from London very proudly and very happily,
with a royal pardon in black and white, which everybody admired the
more, because no one could read a word of it. The Squire himself
acknowledged cheerfully that he could sooner take fifty purses than read
a single line of it. Some people indeed went so far as to say that the
parchment was made from a sheep Tom had stolen, and that was why it
prevaricated so in giving him a character. But I, knowing something by
this time, of lawyers, was able to contradict them; affirming that the
wolf had more than the sheep to do with this matter.

For, according to our old saying, the three learned professions live by
roguery on the three parts of a man. The doctor mauls our bodies; the
parson starves our souls, but the lawyer must be the adroitest knave,
for he has to ensnare our minds. Therefore he takes a careful delight in
covering his traps and engines with a spread of dead_leaf words, whereof
himself knows little more than half the way to spell them.

But now Tom Faggus, although having wit to gallop away on his strawberry
mare, with the speed of terror, from lawyers (having paid them with
money too honest to stop), yet fell into a reckless adventure, ere ever
he came home, from which any lawyer would have saved him, although he
ought to have needed none beyond common thought for dear Annie. Now I
am, and ever have been, so vexed about this story that I cannot tell it
pleasantly (as I try to write in general) in my own words and manner.
Therefore I will let John Fry (whom I have robbed of another story,
to which he was more entitled, and whom I have robbed of many speeches
(which he thought very excellent), lest I should grieve any one with his
lack of education,__the last lack he ever felt, by the bye), now with
your good leave, I will allow poor John to tell this tale, in his own
words and style; which he has a perfect right to do, having been the
first to tell us. For Squire Faggus kept it close; not trusting even
Annie with it (or at least she said so); because no man knows much of
his sweetheart's tongue, until she has borne him a child or two.

Only before John begins his story, this I would say, in duty to him, and
in common honesty,__that I dare not write down some few of his words,
because they are not convenient, for dialect or other causes; and that I
cannot find any way of spelling many of the words which I do repeat, so
that people, not born on Exmoor, may know how he pronounced them; even
if they could bring their lips and their legs to the proper attitude.
And in this I speak advisedly; having observed some thousand times that
the manner a man has of spreading his legs, and bending his knees,
or stiffening, and even the way he will set his heel, make all the
difference in his tone, and time of casting his voice aright, and power
of coming home to you.

We always liked John's stories, not for any wit in them; but because we
laughed at the man, rather than the matter. The way he held his head was
enough, with his chin fixed hard like a certainty (especially during his
biggest lie), not a sign of a smile in his lips or nose, but a power of
not laughing; and his eyes not turning to anybody, unless somebody had
too much of it (as young girls always do) and went over the brink of
laughter. Thereupon it was good to see John Fry; how he looked gravely
first at the laughter, as much as to ask, 'What is it now?' then if
the fool went laughing more, as he or she was sure to do upon that dry
inquiry, John would look again, to be sure of it, and then at somebody
else to learn whether the laugh had company; then if he got another
grin, all his mirth came out in glory, with a sudden break; and he wiped
his lips, and was grave again.

Now John, being too much encouraged by the girls (of which I could never
break them), came into the house that December evening, with every inch
of him full of a tale. Annie saw it, and Lizzie, of course; and even I,
in the gloom of great evils, perceived that John was a loaded gun; but I
did not care to explode him. Now nothing primed him so hotly as this: if
you wanted to hear all John Fry had heard, the surest of all sure ways
to it was, to pretend not to care for a word of it.

'I wor over to Exeford in the morning,' John began from the
chimney_corner, looking straight at Annie; 'for to zee a little calve,
Jan, as us cuddn't get thee to lave houze about. Meesus have got a quare
vancy vor un, from wutt her have heer'd of the brade. Now zit quite,
wull 'e Miss Luzzie, or a 'wunt goo on no vurder. Vaine little tayl I'll
tull' ee, if so be thee zits quite. Wull, as I coom down the hill, I
zeed a saight of volks astapping of the ro_udwai. Arl on 'em wi' girt
goons, or two men out of dree wi' 'em. Rackon there wor dree score
on 'em, tak smarl and beg togather laike; latt aloun the women and
chillers; zum on em wi' matches blowing, tothers wi' flint_lacks. "Wutt
be up now?" I says to Bill Blacksmith, as had knowledge of me: "be the
King acoomin? If her be, do 'ee want to shutt 'un?"

'"Thee not knaw!" says Bill Blacksmith, just the zame as I be a tullin
of it: "whai, man, us expex Tam Faggus, and zum on us manes to shutt
'un."

'"Shutt 'un wi'out a warrant!" says I: "sure 'ee knaws better nor thic,
Bill! A man mayn't shutt to another man, wi'out have a warrant, Bill.
Warship zed so, last taime I zeed un, and nothing to the contrairy."

'"Haw, haw! Never frout about that," saith Bill, zame as I be tullin
you; "us has warrants and warships enow, dree or vour on 'em. And more
nor a dizzen warranties; fro'ut I know to contrairy. Shutt 'un, us
manes; and shutt 'un, us will__" Whai, Miss Annie, good Lord, whuttiver
maks 'ee stear so?'

'Nothing at all, John,' our Annie answered; 'only the horrible ferocity
of that miserable blacksmith.'

'That be nayther here nor there,' John continued, with some wrath at
his own interruption: 'Blacksmith knawed whutt the Squire had been; and
veared to lose his own custom, if Squire tuk to shooin' again. Shutt any
man I would myzell as intervared wi' my trade laike. "Lucky for thee,"
said Bill Blacksmith, "as thee bee'st so shart and fat, Jan. Dree on us
wor a gooin' to shutt 'ee, till us zeed how fat thee waz, Jan."

'"Lor now, Bill!" I answered 'un, wi' a girt cold swat upon me: "shutt
me, Bill; and my own waife niver drame of it!"'

Here John Fry looked round the kitchen; for he had never said anything
of the kind, I doubt; but now made it part of his discourse, from
thinking that Mistress Fry was come, as she generally did, to fetch him.

'Wull done then, Jan Vry,' said the woman, who had entered quietly, but
was only our old Molly. 'Wutt handsome manners thee hast gat, Jan, to
spake so well of thy waife laike; after arl the laife she leads thee!'

'Putt thee pot on the fire, old 'ooman, and bile thee own bakkon,' John
answered her, very sharply: 'nobody no raight to meddle wi' a man's bad
ooman but himzell. Wull, here was all these here men awaitin', zum wi'
harses, zum wi'out; the common volk wi' long girt guns, and tha quarlity
wi' girt broad_swords. Who wor there? Whay latt me zee. There wor Squire
Maunder,' here John assumed his full historical key, 'him wi' the pot to
his vittle_place; and Sir Richard Blewitt shaking over the zaddle, and
Squaire Sandford of Lee, him wi' the long nose and one eye, and Sir
Gronus Batchildor over to Ninehead Court, and ever so many more on 'em,
tulling up how they was arl gooin' to be promoted, for kitching of Tom
Faggus.

'"Hope to God," says I to myzell, "poor Tom wun't coom here to_day: arl
up with her, if 'a doeth: and who be there to suckzade 'un?" Mark me
now, all these charps was good to shutt 'un, as her coom crass the
watter; the watter be waide enow there and stony, but no deeper than my
knee_place.

'"Thee cas'n goo no vurder," Bill Blacksmith saith to me: "nawbody
'lowed to crass the vord, until such time as Faggus coom; plaise God us
may mak sure of 'un."

'"Amen, zo be it," says I; "God knoweth I be never in any hurry, and
would zooner stop nor goo on most taimes."

'Wi' that I pulled my vittles out, and zat a horsebarck, atin' of 'em,
and oncommon good they was. "Won't us have 'un this taime just," saith
Tim Potter, as keepeth the bull there; "and yet I be zorry for 'un. But
a man must kape the law, her must; zo be her can only learn it. And now
poor Tom will swing as high as the tops of they girt hashes there."

'"Just thee kitch 'un virst," says I; "maisure rope, wi' the body to
maisure by."

'"Hurrah! here be another now," saith Bill Blacksmith, grinning;
"another coom to help us. What a grave gentleman! A warship of the pace,
at laste!"

'For a gentleman, on a cue_ball horse, was coming slowly down the hill
on tother zide of watter, looking at us in a friendly way, and with a
long papper standing forth the lining of his coat laike. Horse stapped
to drink in the watter, and gentleman spak to 'un kindly, and then they
coom raight on to ussen, and the gentleman's face wor so long and so
grave, us veared 'a wor gooin' to prache to us.

'"Coort o' King's Bench," saith one man; "Checker and Plays," saith
another; "Spishal Commission, I doubt," saith Bill Blacksmith; "backed
by the Mayor of Taunton."

'"Any Justice of the King's Peace, good people, to be found near here?"
said the gentleman, lifting his hat to us, and very gracious in his
manner.

'"Your honour," saith Bill, with his hat off his head; "there be sax or
zeven warships here: arl on 'em very wise 'uns. Squaire Maunder there be
the zinnyer."

'So the gentleman rode up to Squire Maunder, and raised his cocked hat
in a manner that took the Squire out of countenance, for he could not do
the like of it.

'"Sir," said he, "good and worshipful sir, I am here to claim your
good advice and valour; for purposes of justice. I hold His Majesty's
commission, to make to cease a notorious rogue, whose name is Thomas
Faggus." With that he offered his commission; but Squire Maunder told
the truth, that he could not rade even words in print, much less written
karakters.* Then the other magistrates rode up, and put their heads
together, how to meet the London gentleman without loss of importance.
There wor one of 'em as could rade purty vair, and her made out King's
mark upon it: and he bowed upon his horse to the gentleman, and he laid
his hand on his heart and said, "Worshipful sir, we, as has the honour
of His Gracious Majesty's commission, are entirely at your service, and
crave instructions from you."

     * Lest I seem to under_rate the erudition of Devonshire
     magistrates, I venture to offer copy of a letter from a
     Justice of the Peace to his bookseller, circa 1810 A.D., now
     in my possession:__

     'Sur. 'plez to zen me the aks relatting to A_GUSTUS_PAKS,'
     __Ed. of L. D.

'Then a waving of hats began, and a bowing, and making of legs to wan
anather, sich as nayver wor zeed afore; but none of 'em arl, for air and
brading, cud coom anaigh the gentleman with the long grave face.

'"Your warships have posted the men right well," saith he with anather
bow all round; "surely that big rogue will have no chance left among so
many valiant musketeers. Ha! what see I there, my friend? Rust in the
pan of your gun! That gun would never go off, sure as I am the King's
Commissioner. And I see another just as bad; and lo, there the
third! Pardon me, gentlemen, I have been so used to His Majesty's
Ordnance_yards. But I fear that bold rogue would ride through all of
you, and laugh at your worship's beards, by George."

'"But what shall us do?" Squire Maunder axed; "I vear there be no oil
here."

'"Discharge your pieces, gentlemen, and let the men do the same; or at
least let us try to discharge them, and load again with fresh powder. It
is the fog of the morning hath spoiled the priming. That rogue is not
in sight yet: but God knows we must not be asleep with him, or what will
His Majesty say to me, if we let him slip once more?"

'"Excellent, wondrous well said, good sir," Squire Maunder answered him;
"I never should have thought of that now. Bill Blacksmith, tell all the
men to be ready to shoot up into the air, directly I give the word. Now,
are you ready there, Bill?"

'"All ready, your worship," saith Bill, saluting like a soldier.

'"Then, one, two, dree, and shutt!" cries Squire Maunder, standing up in
the irons of his stirrups.

'Thereupon they all blazed out, and the noise of it went all round the
hills; with a girt thick cloud arising, and all the air smelling of
powder. Before the cloud was gone so much as ten yards on the wind,
the gentleman on the cue_bald horse shuts up his face like a pair of
nut_cracks, as wide as it was long before, and out he pulls two girt
pistols longside of zaddle, and clap'th one to Squire Maunder's head,
and tother to Sir Richard Blewitt's.

'"Hand forth your money and all your warrants," he saith like a clap of
thunder; "gentlemen, have you now the wit to apprehend Tom Faggus?"

'Squire Maunder swore so that he ought to be fined; but he pulled out
his purse none the slower for that, and so did Sir Richard Blewitt.

'"First man I see go to load a gun, I'll gi'e 'un the bullet to do it
with," said Tom; for you see it was him and no other, looking quietly
round upon all of them. Then he robbed all the rest of their warships,
as pleasant as might be; and he saith, "Now, gentlemen, do your duty:
serve your warrants afore you imprison me;" with that he made them give
up all the warrants, and he stuck them in the band of his hat, and then
he made a bow with it.

'"Good morning to your warships now, and a merry Christmas all of
you! And the merrier both for rich and poor, when gentlemen see their
almsgiving. Lest you deny yourselves the pleasure, I will aid your
warships. And to save you the trouble of following me, when your guns be
loaded__this is my strawberry mare, gentlemen, only with a little cream
on her. Gentlemen all, in the name of the King, I thank you."

'All this while he was casting their money among the poor folk by the
handful; and then he spak kaindly to the red mare, and wor over the back
of the hill in two zeconds, and best part of two maile away, I reckon,
afore ever a gun wor loaded.'*

     * The truth of this story is well established by first_rate
     tradition.