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

As to that, I know no more, except that men are jealous. But whether
it were that, or not, he fell into bitter trouble within a month of his
victory; when his trade was growing upon him, and his sweetheart ready
to marry him. For he loved a maid of Southmolton (a currier's daughter
I think she was, and her name was Betsy Paramore), and her father had
given consent; and Tom Faggus, wishing to look his best, and be clean of
course, had a tailor at work upstairs for him, who had come all the way
from Exeter. And Betsy's things were ready too--for which they accused
him afterwards, as if he could help that--when suddenly, like a
thunderbolt, a lawyer's writ fell upon him.

This was the beginning of a law-suit with Sir Robert Bampfylde, a
gentleman of the neighbourhood, who tried to oust him from his common,
and drove his cattle and harassed them. And by that suit of law poor Tom
was ruined altogether, for Sir Robert could pay for much swearing; and
then all his goods and his farm were sold up, and even his smithery
taken. But he saddled his horse, before they could catch him, and rode
away to Southmolton, looking more like a madman than a good farrier,
as the people said who saw him. But when he arrived there, instead of
comfort, they showed him the face of the door alone; for the news of his
loss was before him, and Master Paramore was a sound, prudent man, and
a high member of the town council. It is said that they even gave him
notice to pay for Betsy's wedding-clothes, now that he was too poor to
marry her. This may be false, and indeed I doubt it; in the first place,
because Southmolton is a busy place for talking; and in the next, that
I do not think the action would have lain at law, especially as the
maid lost nothing, but used it all for her wedding next month with Dick
Vellacott, of Mockham.

All this was very sore upon Tom; and he took it to heart so grievously,
that he said, as a better man might have said, being loose of mind and
property, "The world hath preyed on me like a wolf. God help me now to
prey on the world."

And in sooth it did seem, for a while, as if Providence were with him;
for he took rare toll on the highway, and his name was soon as good as
gold anywhere this side of Bristowe. He studied his business by night
and by day, with three horses all in hard work, until he had made a fine
reputation; and then it was competent to him to rest, and he had plenty
left for charity. And I ought to say for society too, for he truly
loved high society, treating squires and noblemen (who much affected his
company) to the very best fare of the hostel. And they say that once
the King's Justitiaries, being upon circuit, accepted his invitation,
declaring merrily that if never true bill had been found against him,
mine host should now be qualified to draw one. And so the landlords did;
and he always paid them handsomely, so that all of them were kind to
him, and contended for his visits. Let it be known in any township that
Mr. Faggus was taking his leisure at the inn, and straightway all the
men flocked thither to drink his health without outlay, and all the
women to admire him; while the children were set at the cross-roads to
give warning of any officers. One of his earliest meetings was with Sir
Robert Bampfylde himself, who was riding along the Barum road with only
one serving-man after him. Tom Faggus put a pistol to his head, being
then obliged to be violent, through want of reputation; while the
serving-man pretended to be along way round the corner. Then the baronet
pulled out his purse, quite trembling in the hurry of his politeness.
Tom took the purse, and his ring, and time-piece, and then handed them
back with a very low bow, saying that it was against all usage for him
to rob a robber. Then he turned to the unfaithful knave, and trounced
him right well for his cowardice, and stripped him of all his property.

But now Mr. Faggus kept only one horse, lest the Government should steal
them; and that one was the young mare Winnie. How he came by her he
never would tell, but I think that she was presented to him by a certain
Colonel, a lover of sport, and very clever in horseflesh, whose life Tom
had saved from some gamblers. When I have added that Faggus as yet
had never been guilty of bloodshed (for his eyes, and the click of
his pistol at first, and now his high reputation made all his wishes
respected), and that he never robbed a poor man, neither insulted a
woman, but was very good to the Church, and of hot patriotic opinions,
and full of jest and jollity, I have said as much as is fair for him,
and shown why he was so popular. Everybody cursed the Doones, who lived
apart disdainfully. But all good people liked Mr. Faggus--when he had
not robbed them--and many a poor sick man or woman blessed him for other
people's money; and all the hostlers, stable-boys, and tapsters entirely
worshipped him.

I have been rather long, and perhaps tedious, in my account of him, lest
at any time hereafter his character should be misunderstood, and his
good name disparaged; whereas he was my second cousin, and the lover of
my--But let that bide. 'Tis a melancholy story.

He came again about three months afterwards, in the beginning of the
spring-time, and brought me a beautiful new carbine, having learned my
love of such things, and my great desire to shoot straight. But mother
would not let me have the gun, until he averred upon his honour that he
had bought it honestly. And so he had, no doubt, so far as it is honest
to buy with money acquired rampantly. Scarce could I stop to make my
bullets in the mould which came along with it, but must be off to the
Quarry Hill, and new target I had made there. And he taught me then
how to ride bright Winnie, who was grown since I had seen her, but
remembered me most kindly. After making much of Annie, who had a
wondrous liking for him--and he said he was her godfather, but God knows
how he could have been, unless they confirmed him precociously--away he
went, and young Winnie's sides shone like a cherry by candlelight.

Now I feel that of those boyish days I have little more to tell, because
everything went quietly, as the world for the most part does with us. I
began to work at the farm in earnest, and tried to help my mother, and
when I remembered Lorna Doone, it seemed no more than the thought of a
dream, which I could hardly call to mind. Now who cares to know how many
bushels of wheat we grew to the acre, or how the cattle milched till we
ate them, or what the turn of the seasons was? But my stupid self seemed
like to be the biggest of all the cattle; for having much to look after
the sheep, and being always in kind appetite, I grew four inches longer
in every year of my farming, and a matter of two inches wider; until
there was no man of my size to be seen elsewhere upon Exmoor. Let that
pass: what odds to any how tall or wide I be? There is no Doone's door
at Plover's Barrows and if there were I could never go through it. They
vexed me so much about my size, long before I had completed it, girding
at me with paltry jokes whose wit was good only to stay at home, that
I grew shame-faced about the matter, and feared to encounter a
looking-glass. But mother was very proud, and said she never could have
too much of me.

The worst of all to make me ashamed of bearing my head so high--a thing
I saw no way to help, for I never could hang my chin down, and my back
was like a gatepost whenever I tried to bend it--the worst of all was
our little Eliza, who never could come to a size herself, though she had
the wine from the Sacrament at Easter and Allhallowmas, only to be small
and skinny, sharp, and clever crookedly. Not that her body was out of
the straight (being too small for that perhaps), but that her wit was
full of corners, jagged, and strange, and uncomfortable. You never could
tell what she might say next; and I like not that kind of women. Now God
forgive me for talking so of my own father's daughter, and so much the
more by reason that my father could not help it. The right way is
to face the matter, and then be sorry for every one. My mother fell
grievously on a slide, which John Fry had made nigh the apple-room door,
and hidden with straw from the stable, to cover his own great idleness.
My father laid John's nose on the ice, and kept him warm in spite of it;
but it was too late for Eliza. She was born next day with more mind than
body--the worst thing that can befall a man.

But Annie, my other sister, was now a fine fair girl, beautiful to
behold. I could look at her by the fireside, for an hour together, when
I was not too sleepy, and think of my dear father. And she would do the
same thing by me, only wait the between of the blazes. Her hair was done
up in a knot behind, but some would fall over her shoulders; and the
dancing of the light was sweet to see through a man's eyelashes. There
never was a face that showed the light or the shadow of feeling, as if
the heart were sun to it, more than our dear Annie's did. To look at her
carefully, you might think that she was not dwelling on anything; and
then she would know you were looking at her, and those eyes would tell
all about it. God knows that I try to be simple enough, to keep to His
meaning in me, and not make the worst of His children. Yet often have I
been put to shame, and ready to bite my tongue off, after speaking amiss
of anybody, and letting out my littleness, when suddenly mine eyes have
met the pure soft gaze of Annie.

As for the Doones, they were thriving still, and no one to come against
them; except indeed by word of mouth, to which they lent no heed
whatever. Complaints were made from time to time, both in high and low
quarters (as the rank might be of the people robbed), and once or twice
in the highest of all, to wit, the King himself. But His Majesty made
a good joke about it (not meaning any harm, I doubt), and was so much
pleased with himself thereupon, that he quite forgave the mischief.
Moreover, the main authorities were a long way off; and the Chancellor
had no cattle on Exmoor; and as for my lord the Chief Justice, some
rogue had taken his silver spoons; whereupon his lordship swore that
never another man would he hang until he had that one by the neck.
Therefore the Doones went on as they listed, and none saw fit to meddle
with them. For the only man who would have dared to come to close
quarters with them, that is to say Tom Faggus, himself was a quarry for
the law, if ever it should be unhooded. Moreover, he had transferred his
business to the neighbourhood of Wantage, in the county of Berks, where
he found the climate drier, also good downs and commons excellent for
galloping, and richer yeomen than ours be, and better roads to rob them
on.

Some folk, who had wiser attended to their own affairs, said that I
(being sizeable now, and able to shoot not badly) ought to do something
against those Doones, and show what I was made of. But for a time I was
very bashful, shaking when called upon suddenly, and blushing as deep as
a maiden; for my strength was not come upon me, and mayhap I had grown
in front of it. And again, though I loved my father still, and would
fire at a word about him, I saw not how it would do him good for me to
harm his injurers. Some races are of revengeful kind, and will for years
pursue their wrong, and sacrifice this world and the next for a
moment's foul satisfaction, but methinks this comes of some black blood,
perverted and never purified. And I doubt but men of true English birth
are stouter than so to be twisted, though some of the women may take
that turn, if their own life runs unkindly.

Let that pass--I am never good at talking of things beyond me. All I
know is, that if I had met the Doone who had killed my father, I would
gladly have thrashed him black and blue, supposing I were able; but
would never have fired a gun at him, unless he began that game with me,
or fell upon more of my family, or were violent among women. And to
do them justice, my mother and Annie were equally kind and gentle, but
Eliza would flame and grow white with contempt, and not trust herself to
speak to us.

Now a strange thing came to pass that winter, when I was twenty-one
years old, a very strange thing, which affrighted the rest, and made me
feel uncomfortable. Not that there was anything in it, to do harm to any
one, only that none could explain it, except by attributing it to the
devil. The weather was very mild and open, and scarcely any snow fell;
at any rate, none lay on the ground, even for an hour, in the highest
part of Exmoor; a thing which I knew not before nor since, as long as
I can remember. But the nights were wonderfully dark, as though with no
stars in the heaven; and all day long the mists were rolling upon
the hills and down them, as if the whole land were a wash-house. The
moorland was full of snipes and teal, and curlews flying and crying, and
lapwings flapping heavily, and ravens hovering round dead sheep; yet no
redshanks nor dottrell, and scarce any golden plovers (of which we have
great store generally) but vast lonely birds, that cried at night, and
moved the whole air with their pinions; yet no man ever saw them. It was
dismal as well as dangerous now for any man to go fowling (which of late
I loved much in the winter) because the fog would come down so thick
that the pan of the gun was reeking, and the fowl out of sight ere the
powder kindled, and then the sound of the piece was so dead, that the
shooter feared harm, and glanced over his shoulder. But the danger of
course was far less in this than in losing of the track, and falling
into the mires, or over the brim of a precipice.

Nevertheless, I must needs go out, being young and very stupid, and
feared of being afraid; a fear which a wise man has long cast by, having
learned of the manifold dangers which ever and ever encompass us. And
beside this folly and wildness of youth, perchance there was something,
I know not what, of the joy we have in uncertainty. Mother, in fear
of my missing home--though for that matter, I could smell supper, when
hungry, through a hundred land-yards of fog--my dear mother, who thought
of me ten times for one thought about herself, gave orders to ring the
great sheep-bell, which hung above the pigeon-cote, every ten minutes of
the day, and the sound came through the plaits of fog, and I was vexed
about it, like the letters of a copy-book. It reminded me, too, of
Blundell's bell, and the grief to go into school again.

But during those two months of fog (for we had it all the winter), the
saddest and the heaviest thing was to stand beside the sea. To be upon
the beach yourself, and see the long waves coming in; to know that they
are long waves, but only see a piece of them; and to hear them lifting
roundly, swelling over smooth green rocks, plashing down in the hollow
corners, but bearing on all the same as ever, soft and sleek and
sorrowful, till their little noise is over.

[Illustration: 100.jpg To be upon the beach]

One old man who lived at Lynmouth, seeking to be buried there, having
been more than half over the world, though shy to speak about it, and
fain to come home to his birthplace, this old Will Watcombe (who dwelt
by the water) said that our strange winter arose from a thing he called
the "Gulf-stream", rushing up Channel suddenly. He said it was hot
water, almost fit for a man to shave with, and it threw all our cold
water out, and ruined the fish and the spawning-time, and a cold spring
would come after it. I was fond of going to Lynmouth on Sunday to hear
this old man talk, for sometimes he would discourse with me, when nobody
else could move him. He told me that this powerful flood set in upon our
west so hard sometimes once in ten years, and sometimes not for fifty,
and the Lord only knew the sense of it; but that when it came, therewith
came warmth and clouds, and fog, and moisture, and nuts, and fruit, and
even shells; and all the tides were thrown abroad. As for nuts he winked
awhile, and chewed a piece of tobacco; yet did I not comprehend him.
Only afterwards I heard that nuts with liquid kernels came, travelling
on the Gulf stream; for never before was known so much foreign cordial
landed upon our coast, floating ashore by mistake in the fog, and (what
with the tossing and the mist) too much astray to learn its duty.

Folk, who are ever too prone to talk, said that Will Watcombe himself
knew better than anybody else about this drift of the Gulf-stream,
and the places where it would come ashore, and the caves that took the
in-draught. But De Whichehalse, our great magistrate, certified that
there was no proof of unlawful importation; neither good cause to
suspect it, at a time of Christian charity. And we knew that it was a
foul thing for some quarrymen to say that night after night they had
been digging a new cellar at Ley Manor to hold the little marks of
respect found in the caverns at high-water weed. Let that be, it is none
of my business to speak evil of dignities; duly we common people joked
of the "Gulp-stream," as we called it.

But the thing which astonished and frightened us so, was not, I do
assure you, the landing of foreign spirits, nor the loom of a lugger at
twilight in the gloom of the winter moonrise. That which made as crouch
in by the fire, or draw the bed-clothes over us, and try to think of
something else, was a strange mysterious sound.

At grey of night, when the sun was gone, and no red in the west
remained, neither were stars forthcoming, suddenly a wailing voice rose
along the valleys, and a sound in the air, as of people running. It
mattered not whether you stood on the moor, or crouched behind rocks
away from it, or down among reedy places; all as one the sound would
come, now from the heart of the earth beneath, now overhead bearing
down on you. And then there was rushing of something by, and melancholy
laughter, and the hair of a man would stand on end before he could
reason properly.

God, in His mercy, knows that I am stupid enough for any man, and very
slow of impression, nor ever could bring myself to believe that our
Father would let the evil one get the upper hand of us. But when I had
heard that sound three times, in the lonely gloom of the evening fog,
and the cold that followed the lines of air, I was loath to go abroad by
night, even so far as the stables, and loved the light of a candle more,
and the glow of a fire with company.

There were many stories about it, of course, all over the breadth of the
moorland. But those who had heard it most often declared that it must be
the wail of a woman's voice, and the rustle of robes fleeing horribly,
and fiends in the fog going after her. To that, however, I paid no heed,
when anybody was with me; only we drew more close together, and barred
the doors at sunset.

[Illustration: 102.jpg Tailpiece]

CHAPTER XIII

MASTER HUCKABACK COMES IN

[Illustration: 103.jpg Illustrated Capital]

Mr. Reuben Huckaback, whom many good folk in Dulverton will remember
long after my time, was my mother's uncle, being indeed her mother's
brother. He owned the very best shop in the town, and did a fine
trade in soft ware, especially when the pack-horses came safely in at
Christmas-time. And we being now his only kindred (except indeed his
granddaughter, little Ruth Huckaback, of whom no one took any heed),
mother beheld it a Christian duty to keep as well as could be with him,
both for love of a nice old man, and for the sake of her children. And
truly, the Dulverton people said that he was the richest man in their
town, and could buy up half the county armigers; 'ay, and if it came to
that, they would like to see any man, at Bampton, or at Wivelscombe,
and you might say almost Taunton, who could put down golden Jacobus and
Carolus against him.

Now this old gentleman--so they called him, according to his money;
and I have seen many worse ones, more violent and less wealthy--he must
needs come away that time to spend the New Year-tide with us; not that
he wanted to do it (for he hated country-life), but because my mother
pressing, as mothers will do to a good bag of gold, had wrung a promise
from him; and the only boast of his life was that never yet had he
broken his word, at least since he opened business.

Now it pleased God that Christmas-time (in spite of all the fogs) to
send safe home to Dulverton, and what was more, with their loads quite
safe, a goodly string of packhorses. Nearly half of their charge was
for Uncle Reuben, and he knew how to make the most of it. Then having
balanced his debits and credits, and set the writs running against
defaulters, as behoves a good Christian at Christmas-tide, he saddled
his horse, and rode off towards Oare, with a good stout coat upon him,
and leaving Ruth and his head man plenty to do, and little to eat, until
they should see him again.

It had been settled between us that we should expect him soon after noon
on the last day of December. For the Doones being lazy and fond of bed,
as the manner is of dishonest folk, the surest way to escape them was
to travel before they were up and about, to-wit, in the forenoon of
the day. But herein we reckoned without our host: for being in high
festivity, as became good Papists, the robbers were too lazy, it seems,
to take the trouble of going to bed; and forth they rode on the Old
Year-morning, not with any view of business, but purely in search of
mischief.

We had put off our dinner till one o'clock (which to me was a sad
foregoing), and there was to be a brave supper at six of the clock, upon
New Year's-eve; and the singers to come with their lanthorns, and do
it outside the parlour-window, and then have hot cup till their heads
should go round, after making away with the victuals. For although there
was nobody now in our family to be churchwarden of Oare, it was well
admitted that we were the people entitled alone to that dignity; and
though Nicholas Snowe was in office by name, he managed it only by
mother's advice; and a pretty mess he made of it, so that every one
longed for a Ridd again, soon as ever I should be old enough. This
Nicholas Snowe was to come in the evening, with his three tall comely
daughters, strapping girls, and well skilled in the dairy; and the
story was all over the parish, on a stupid conceit of John Fry's, that
I should have been in love with all three, if there had been but one of
them. These Snowes were to come, and come they did, partly because Mr.
Huckaback liked to see fine young maidens, and partly because none but
Nicholas Snowe could smoke a pipe now all around our parts, except of
the very high people, whom we durst never invite. And Uncle Ben, as we
all knew well, was a great hand at his pipe, and would sit for hours
over it, in our warm chimney-corner, and never want to say a word,
unless it were inside him; only he liked to have somebody there over
against him smoking.

[Illustration: 105.jpg Uncle Ben in our warm chimney-corner]

Now when I came in, before one o'clock, after seeing to the cattle--for
the day was thicker than ever, and we must keep the cattle close at
home, if we wished to see any more of them--I fully expected to find
Uncle Ben sitting in the fireplace, lifting one cover and then another,
as his favourite manner was, and making sweet mouths over them; for he
loved our bacon rarely, and they had no good leeks at Dulverton; and
he was a man who always would see his business done himself. But there
instead of my finding him with his quaint dry face pulled out at me,
and then shut up sharp not to be cheated--who should run out but Betty
Muxworthy, and poke me with a saucepan lid.

"Get out of that now, Betty," I said in my politest manner, for really
Betty was now become a great domestic evil. She would have her own
way so, and of all things the most distressful was for a man to try to
reason.

"Zider-press," cried Betty again, for she thought it a fine joke to call
me that, because of my size, and my hatred of it; "here be a rare get
up, anyhow."

"A rare good dinner, you mean, Betty. Well, and I have a rare good
appetite." With that I wanted to go and smell it, and not to stop for
Betty.

"Troost thee for thiccy, Jan Ridd. But thee must keep it bit langer, I
reckon. Her baint coom, Maister Ziderpress. Whatt'e mak of that now?"

"Do you mean to say that Uncle Ben has not arrived yet, Betty?"

"Raived! I knaws nout about that, whuther a hath of noo. Only I tell 'e,
her baint coom. Rackon them Dooneses hath gat 'un."

And Betty, who hated Uncle Ben, because he never gave her a groat,
and she was not allowed to dine with him, I am sorry to say that
Betty Muxworthy grinned all across, and poked me again with the greasy
saucepan cover. But I misliking so to be treated, strode through the
kitchen indignantly, for Betty behaved to me even now, as if I were only
Eliza.

"Oh, Johnny, Johnny," my mother cried, running out of the grand
show-parlour, where the case of stuffed birds was, and peacock-feathers,
and the white hare killed by grandfather; "I am so glad you are come at
last. There is something sadly amiss, Johnny."