R. D. Blackmore - Lorna Doone

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"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.

CHAPTER XXIX

REAPING LEADS TO REVELLING

[Illustration: 236.jpg The Signal]

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your sake, one for mine," she had whispered, with her head withdrawn,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.

[Illustration: 237.jpg A wealth of harvest]

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.

[Illustration: 242.jpg Annie and Lizzie]

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.

[Illustration: 243.jpg Harvest]

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
And 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.

[Illustration: 245.jpg Tailpiece]

CHAPTER XXX

ANNIE GETS THE BEST OF IT

[Illustration: 246.jpg Illustrated Capital]

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.

[Illustration: 248.jpg 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.