R. D. Blackmore - Lorna Doone

R >> R. D. Blackmore >> Lorna Doone

Pages:
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25 | 26 | 27 | 28 | 29 | 30 | 31 | 32 | 33 | 34 | 35 | 36 | 37 | 38 | 39 | 40 | 41 | 42 | 43 | 44 | 45 | 46 | 47 | 48 | 49 | 50 | 51 | 52 | 53 | 54 | 55 | 56 | 57 | 58

But Simon Carfax swore that drink had lost him his wife, and now had
lost him the last of his five children, and would lose him his own soul,
if further he went on with it; and from that day to his death he never
touched strong drink again. Nor only this; but being soon appointed
captain of the mine, he allowed no man on any pretext to bring cordials
thither; and to this and his stern hard rule and stealthy secret
management (as much as to good luck and place) might it be attributed
that scarcely any but themselves had dreamed about this Exmoor mine.

As for me, I had no ambition to become a miner; and the state to which
gold-seeking had brought poor Uncle Ben was not at all encouraging. My
business was to till the ground, and tend the growth that came of it,
and store the fruit in Heaven's good time, rather than to scoop and
burrow like a weasel or a rat for the yellow root of evil. Moreover, I
was led from home, between the hay and corn harvests (when we often have
a week to spare), by a call there was no resisting; unless I gave up all
regard for wrestling, and for my county.

Now here many persons may take me amiss, and there always has been some
confusion; which people who ought to have known better have wrought into
subject of quarrelling. By birth it is true, and cannot be denied,
that I am a man of Somerset; nevertheless by breed I am, as well as by
education, a son of Devon also. And just as both of our two counties
vowed that Glen Doone was none of theirs, but belonged to the other
one; so now, each with hot claim and jangling (leading even to blows
sometimes), asserted and would swear to it (as I became more famous)
that John Ridd was of its own producing, bred of its own true blood, and
basely stolen by the other.

Now I have not judged it in any way needful or even becoming and
delicate, to enter into my wrestling adventures, or describe my
progress. The whole thing is so different from Lorna, and her gentle
manners, and her style of walking; moreover I must seem (even to kind
people) to magnify myself so much, or at least attempt to do it, that I
have scratched out written pages, through my better taste and sense.

Neither will I, upon this head, make any difference even now; being
simply betrayed into mentioning the matter because bare truth requires
it, in the tale of Lorna's fortunes.

For a mighty giant had arisen in a part of Cornwall: and his calf was
twenty-five inches round, and the breadth of his shoulders two feet
and a quarter; and his stature seven feet and three-quarters. Round the
chest he was seventy inches, and his hand a foot across, and there were
no scales strong enough to judge of his weight in the market-place. Now
this man--or I should say, his backers and his boasters, for the giant
himself was modest--sent me a brave and haughty challenge, to meet
him in the ring at Bodmin-town, on the first day of August, or else to
return my champion's belt to them by the messenger.

It is no use to deny but that I was greatly dashed and scared at first.
For my part, I was only, when measured without clothes on, sixty inches
round the breast, and round the calf scarce twenty-one, only two feet
across the shoulders, and in height not six and three-quarters. However,
my mother would never believe that this man could beat me; and Lorna
being of the same mind, I resolved to go and try him, as they would pay
all expenses and a hundred pounds, if I conquered him; so confident were
those Cornishmen.

Now this story is too well known for me to go through it again and
again. Every child in Devonshire knows, and his grandson will know, the
song which some clever man made of it, after I had treated him to water,
and to lemon, and a little sugar, and a drop of eau-de-vie. Enough that
I had found the giant quite as big as they had described him, and enough
to terrify any one. But trusting in my practice and study of the art, I
resolved to try a back with him; and when my arms were round him once,
the giant was but a farthingale put into the vice of a blacksmith. The
man had no bones; his frame sank in, and I was afraid of crushing him.
He lay on his back, and smiled at me; and I begged his pardon.

Now this affair made a noise at the time, and redounded so much to my
credit, that I was deeply grieved at it, because deserving none. For
I do like a good strife and struggle; and the doubt makes the joy of
victory; whereas in this case, I might as well have been sent for a
match with a hay-mow. However, I got my hundred pounds, and made up my
mind to spend every farthing in presents for mother and Lorna.

For Annie was married by this time, and long before I went away; as need
scarcely be said, perhaps; if any one follows the weeks and the months.
The wedding was quiet enough, except for everybody's good wishes; and I
desire not to dwell upon it, because it grieved me in many ways.

But now that I had tried to hope the very best for dear Annie, a deeper
blow than could have come, even through her, awaited me. For after that
visit to Cornwall, and with my prize-money about me, I came on foot
from Okehampton to Oare, so as to save a little sum towards my time of
marrying. For Lorna's fortune I would not have; small or great I would
not have it; only if there were no denying we would devote the whole of
it to charitable uses, as Master Peter Blundell had done; and perhaps
the future ages would endeavour to be grateful. Lorna and I had settled
this question at least twice a day, on the average; and each time with
more satisfaction.

Now coming into the kitchen with all my cash in my breeches pocket
(golden guineas, with an elephant on them, for the stamp of the Guinea
Company), I found dear mother most heartily glad to see me safe and
sound again--for she had dreaded that giant, and dreamed of him--and
she never asked me about the money. Lizzie also was softer, and more
gracious than usual; especially when she saw me pour guineas, like
peppercorns, into the pudding-basin. But by the way they hung about, I
knew that something was gone wrong.

"Where is Lorna?" I asked at length, after trying not to ask it; "I want
her to come, and see my money. She never saw so much before."

"Alas!" said mother with a heavy sigh; "she will see a great deal more,
I fear; and a deal more than is good for her. Whether you ever see her
again will depend upon her nature, John."

"What do you mean, mother? Have you quarrelled? Why does not Lorna come
to me? Am I never to know?"

"Now, John, be not so impatient," my mother replied, quite calmly, for
in truth she was jealous of Lorna, "you could wait now, very well, John,
if it were till this day week, for the coming of your mother, John. And
yet your mother is your best friend. Who can ever fill her place?"

Thinking of her future absence, mother turned away and cried; and the
box-iron singed the blanket.

"Now," said I, being wild by this time; "Lizzie, you have a little
sense; will you tell me where is Lorna?"

"The Lady Lorna Dugal," said Lizzie, screwing up her lips as if the
title were too grand, "is gone to London, brother John; and not likely
to come back again. We must try to get on without her."

"You little--[something]" I cried, which I dare not write down here,
as all you are too good for such language; but Lizzie's lip provoked me
so--"my Lorna gone, my Lorna gone! And without good-bye to me even! It
is your spite has sickened her."

"You are quite mistaken there," she replied; "how can folk of low degree
have either spite or liking towards the people so far above them? The
Lady Lorna Dugal is gone, because she could not help herself; and she
wept enough to break ten hearts--if hearts are ever broken, John."

"Darling Lizzie, how good you are!" I cried, without noticing her sneer;
"tell me all about it, dear; tell me every word she said."

"That will not take long," said Lizzie, quite as unmoved by soft coaxing
as by urgent cursing; "the lady spoke very little to any one, except
indeed to mother, and to Gwenny Carfax; and Gwenny is gone with her, so
that the benefit of that is lost. But she left a letter for 'poor John,'
as in charity she called him. How grand she looked, to be sure, with the
fine clothes on that were come for her!"

"Where is the letter, you utter vixen! Oh, may you have a husband! Who
will thresh it out of you, and starve it, and swear it out of you!"
was the meaning of my imprecation: but Lizzie, not dreaming as yet of
such things, could not understand me, and was rather thankful; therefore
she answered quietly,--

"The letter is in the little cupboard, near the head of Lady Lorna's
bed, where she used to keep the diamond necklace, which we contrived to
get stolen."

Without another word I rushed (so that every board in the house shook)
up to my lost Lorna's room, and tore the little wall-niche open and
espied my treasure. It was as simple, and as homely, and loving, as even
I could wish. Part of it ran as follows,--the other parts it behoves me
not to open out to strangers:--"My own love, and sometime lord,--Take it
not amiss of me, that even without farewell, I go; for I cannot persuade
the men to wait, your return being doubtful. My great-uncle, some grand
lord, is awaiting me at Dunster, having fear of venturing too near this
Exmoor country. I, who have been so lawless always, and the child of
outlaws, am now to atone for this, it seems, by living in a court of
law, and under special surveillance (as they call it, I believe) of
His Majesty's Court of Chancery. My uncle is appointed my guardian and
master; and I must live beneath his care, until I am twenty-one years
old. To me this appears a dreadful thing, and very unjust, and cruel;
for why should I lose my freedom, through heritage of land and gold? I
offered to abandon all if they would only let me go; I went down on my
knees to them, and said I wanted titles not, neither land, nor money;
only to stay where I was, where first I had known happiness. But they
only laughed and called me 'child,' and said I must talk of that to the
King's High Chancellor. Their orders they had, and must obey them; and
Master Stickles was ordered too, to help as the King's Commissioner. And
then, although it pierced my heart not to say one 'goodbye, John,' I
was glad upon the whole that you were not here to dispute it. For I am
almost certain that you would not, without force to yourself, have let
your Lorna go to people who never, never can care for her."

Here my darling had wept again, by the tokens on the paper; and then
there followed some sweet words, too sweet for me to chatter them.
But she finished with these noble lines, which (being common to all
humanity, in a case of steadfast love) I do no harm, but rather help all
true love by repeating. "Of one thing rest you well assured--and I do
hope that it may prove of service to your rest, love, else would my own
be broken--no difference of rank, or fortune, or of life itself, shall
ever make me swerve from truth to you. We have passed through many
troubles, dangers, and dispartments, but never yet was doubt between us;
neither ever shall be. Each has trusted well the other; and still
each must do so. Though they tell you I am false, though your own mind
harbours it, from the sense of things around, and your own undervaluing,
yet take counsel of your heart, and cast such thoughts away from you;
being unworthy of itself they must be unworthy also of the one who
dwells there; and that one is, and ever shall be, your own Lorna Dugal."

Some people cannot understand that tears should come from pleasure; but
whether from pleasure or from sorrow (mixed as they are in the twisted
strings of a man's heart, or a woman's), great tears fell from my stupid
eyes, even on the blots of Lorna's.

"No doubt it is all over," my mind said to me bitterly; "trust me, all
shall yet be right," my heart replied very sweetly.

CHAPTER LX

ANNIE LUCKIER THAN JOHN

[Illustration: 559.jpg Illustrated Capital]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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