CHAPTER XXII
After hearing that tale from Lorna, I went home in sorry spirits, havingadded fear for her, and misery about, to all my other ailments. And wasit not quite certain now that she, being owned full cousin to a peer andlord of Scotland (although he was a dead one), must have nought to dowith me, a yeoman's son, and bound to be the father of more yeomen? Ihad been very sorry when first I heard about that poor young popinjay,and would gladly have fought hard for him; but now it struck me thatafter all he had no right to be there, prowling (as it were) for Lorna,without any invitation: and we farmers love not trespass. Still, if Ihad seen the thing, I must have tried to save him.
Moreover, I was greatly vexed with my own hesitation, stupidity, orshyness, or whatever else it was, which had held me back from saying,ere she told her story, what was in my heart to say, videlicet, that Imust die unless she let me love her. Not that I was fool enough to thinkthat she would answer me according to my liking, or begin to care aboutme for a long time yet; if indeed she ever should, which I hardly daredto hope. But that I had heard from men more skillful in the matter thatit is wise to be in time, that so the maids may begin to think, whenthey know that they are thought of. And, to tell the truth, I had bitterfears, on account of her wondrous beauty, lest some young fellow ofhigher birth and finer parts, and finish, might steal in before poor me,and cut me out altogether. Thinking of which, I used to double my greatfist, without knowing it, and keep it in my pocket ready.
But the worst of all was this, that in my great dismay and anguishto see Lorna weeping so, I had promised not to cause her any furthertrouble from anxiety and fear of harm. And this, being brought topractice, meant that I was not to show myself within the precincts ofGlen Doone, for at least another month. Unless indeed (as I contrived toedge into the agreement) anything should happen to increase her presenttrouble and every day's uneasiness. In that case, she was to throw adark mantle, or covering of some sort, over a large white stone whichhung within the entrance to her retreat--I mean the outer entrance--andwhich, though unseen from the valley itself, was (as I had observed)conspicuous from the height where I stood with Uncle Reuben.
Now coming home so sad and weary, yet trying to console myself with thethought that love o'erleapeth rank, and must still be lord of all, Ifound a shameful thing going on, which made me very angry. For it needsmust happen that young Marwood de Whichehalse, only son of the Baron,riding home that very evening, from chasing of the Exmoor bustards,with his hounds and serving-men, should take the short cut throughour farmyard, and being dry from his exercise, should come and ask fordrink. And it needs must happen also that there should be none to giveit to him but my sister Annie. I more than suspect that he had heardsome report of our Annie's comeliness, and had a mind to satisfyhimself upon the subject. Now, as he took the large ox-horn of ourquarantine-apple cider (which we always keep apart from the rest, beingtoo good except for the quality), he let his fingers dwell on Annie's,by some sort of accident, while he lifted his beaver gallantly, andgazed on her face in the light from the west. Then what did Annie do (asshe herself told me afterwards) but make her very best curtsey to him,being pleased that he was pleased with her, while she thought what afine young man he was and so much breeding about him! And in truth hewas a dark, handsome fellow, hasty, reckless, and changeable, with alook of sad destiny in his black eyes that would make any woman pityhim. What he was thinking of our Annie is not for me to say, although Imay think that you could not have found another such maiden on Exmoor,except (of course) my Lorna.
Though young Squire Marwood was so thirsty, he spent much time over hiscider, or at any rate over the ox-horn, and he made many bows to Annie,and drank health to all the family, and spoke of me as if I had been hisvery best friend at Blundell's; whereas he knew well enough all the timethat we had nought to say to one another; he being three years older,and therefore of course disdaining me. But while he was casting aboutperhaps for some excuse to stop longer, and Annie was beginning to fearlest mother should come after her, or Eliza be at the window, or Bettyup in pigs' house, suddenly there came up to them, as if from the veryheart of the earth, that long, low, hollow, mysterious sound which Ispoke of in winter.
The young man started in his saddle, let the horn fall on thehorse-steps, and gazed all around in wonder; while as for Annie, sheturned like a ghost, and tried to slam the door, but failed through theviolence of her trembling; (for never till now had any one heard it soclose at hand as you might say) or in the mere fall of the twilight. Andby this time there was no man, at least in our parish, but knew--for theParson himself had told us so--that it was the devil groaning becausethe Doones were too many for him.
Marwood de Whichehalse was not so alarmed but what he saw a fineopportunity. He leaped from his horse, and laid hold of dear Annie in ahighly comforting manner; and she never would tell us about it (beingso shy and modest), whether in breathing his comfort to her he triedto take some from her pure lips. I hope he did not, because that to mewould seem not the deed of a gentleman, and he was of good old family.
At this very moment, who should come into the end of the passage uponthem but the heavy writer of these doings I, John Ridd myself, andwalking the faster, it may be, on account of the noise I mentioned. Ientered the house with some wrath upon me at seeing the gazehounds inthe yard; for it seems a cruel thing to me to harass the birds in thebreeding-time. And to my amazement there I saw Squire Marwood among themilk-pans with his arm around our Annie's waist, and Annie all blushingand coaxing him off, for she was not come to scold yet.
Perhaps I was wrong; God knows, and if I was, no doubt I shall pay forit; but I gave him the flat of my hand on his head, and down he went inthe thick of the milk-pans. He would have had my fist, I doubt, but forhaving been at school with me; and after that it is like enough he wouldnever have spoken another word. As it was, he lay stunned, with thecream running on him; while I took poor Annie up and carried her in tomother, who had heard the noise and was frightened.
Concerning this matter I asked no more, but held myself ready to bear itout in any form convenient, feeling that I had done my duty, andcared not for the consequence; only for several days dear Annie seemedfrightened rather than grateful. But the oddest result of it was thatEliza, who had so despised me, and made very rude verses about me, nowcame trying to sit on my knee, and kiss me, and give me the best of thepan. However, I would not allow it, because I hate sudden changes.
Another thing also astonished me--namely, a beautiful letter fromMarwood de Whichehalse himself (sent by a groom soon afterwards), inwhich he apologised to me, as if I had been his equal, for his rudenessto my sister, which was not intended in the least, but came of theircommon alarm at the moment, and his desire to comfort her. Also hebegged permission to come and see me, as an old schoolfellow, and seteverything straight between us, as should be among honest Blundellites.
All this was so different to my idea of fighting out a quarrel, whenonce it is upon a man, that I knew not what to make of it, but bowed tohigher breeding. Only one thing I resolved upon, that come when he wouldhe should not see Annie. And to do my sister justice, she had no desireto see him.
However, I am too easy, there is no doubt of that, being very quick toforgive a man, and very slow to suspect, unless he hath once lied tome. Moreover, as to Annie, it had always seemed to me (much against mywishes) that some shrewd love of a waiting sort was between her and TomFaggus: and though Tom had made his fortune now, and everybodyrespected him, of course he was not to be compared, in that point ofrespectability, with those people who hanged the robbers when fortuneturned against them.
So young Squire Marwood came again, as though I had never smittenhim, and spoke of it in as light a way as if we were still at schooltogether. It was not in my nature, of course, to keep any anger againsthim; and I knew what a condescension it was for him to visit us. Andit is a very grievous thing, which touches small landowners, to see anancient family day by day decaying: and when we heard that Ley Bar
tonitself, and all the Manor of Lynton were under a heavy mortgage debt toJohn Lovering of Weare-Gifford, there was not much, in our little way,that we would not gladly do or suffer for the benefit of De Whichehalse.
Meanwhile the work of the farm was toward, and every day gave usmore ado to dispose of what itself was doing. For after the long dryskeltering wind of March and part of April, there had been a fortnightof soft wet; and when the sun came forth again, hill and valley, woodand meadow, could not make enough of him. Many a spring have I seensince then, but never yet two springs alike, and never one so beautiful.Or was it that my love came forth and touched the world with beauty?
The spring was in our valley now; creeping first for shelter shyly inthe pause of the blustering wind. There the lambs came bleating to her,and the orchis lifted up, and the thin dead leaves of clover lay for thenew ones to spring through. There the stiffest things that sleep, thestubby oak, and the saplin'd beech, dropped their brown defiance to her,and prepared for a soft reply.
While her over-eager children (who had started forth to meet her,through the frost and shower of sleet), catkin'd hazel, gold-glovedwithy, youthful elder, and old woodbine, with all the tribe of goodhedge-climbers (who must hasten while haste they may)--was there one ofthem that did not claim the merit of coming first?
There she stayed and held her revel, as soon as the fear of frost wasgone; all the air was a fount of freshness, and the earth of gladness,and the laughing waters prattled of the kindness of the sun.
But all this made it much harder for us, plying the hoe and rake, tokeep the fields with room upon them for the corn to tiller. The winterwheat was well enough, being sturdy and strong-sided; but the springwheat and the barley and the oats were overrun by ill weeds growingfaster. Therefore, as the old saying is,--
Farmer, that thy wife may thrive, Let not burr and burdock wive; And ifthou wouldst keep thy son, See that bine and gith have none.
So we were compelled to go down the field and up it, striking in and outwith care where the green blades hung together, so that each had spaceto move in and to spread its roots abroad. And I do assure you now,though you may not believe me, it was harder work to keep John Fry, BillDadds, and Jem Slocomb all in a line and all moving nimbly to the tuneof my own tool, than it was to set out in the morning alone, and hoehalf an acre by dinner-time. For, instead of keeping the good ashmoving, they would for ever be finding something to look at or to speakof, or at any rate, to stop with; blaming the shape of their toolsperhaps, or talking about other people's affairs; or, what was mostirksome of all to me, taking advantage as married men, and whisperingjokes of no excellence about my having, or having not, or being ashamedof a sweetheart. And this went so far at last that I was forced to taketwo of them and knock their heads together; after which they worked witha better will.
When we met together in the evening round the kitchen chimney-place,after the men had had their supper and their heavy boots were gone, mymother and Eliza would do their very utmost to learn what I was thinkingof. Not that we kept any fire now, after the crock was emptied; but thatwe loved to see the ashes cooling, and to be together. At these timesAnnie would never ask me any crafty questions (as Eliza did), but wouldsit with her hair untwined, and one hand underneath her chin, sometimeslooking softly at me, as much as to say that she knew it all and I wasno worse off than she. But strange to say my mother dreamed not, evenfor an instant, that it was possible for Annie to be thinking of sucha thing. She was so very good and quiet, and careful of the linen, andclever about the cookery and fowls and bacon-curing, that people usedto laugh, and say she would never look at a bachelor until her motherordered her. But I (perhaps from my own condition and the sense of whatit was) felt no certainty about this, and even had another opinion, aswas said before.
Often I was much inclined to speak to her about it, and put her on herguard against the approaches of Tom Faggus; but I could not find how tobegin, and feared to make a breach between us; knowing that if hermind was set, no words of mine would alter it; although they needs mustgrieve her deeply. Moreover, I felt that, in this case, a certainhomely Devonshire proverb would come home to me; that one, I mean, whichrecords that the crock was calling the kettle smutty. Not, of course,that I compared my innocent maid to a highwayman; but that Annie mightthink her worse, and would be too apt to do so, if indeed she loved TomFaggus. And our Cousin Tom, by this time, was living a quiet and godlylife; having retired almost from the trade (except when he neededexcitement, or came across public officers), and having won the esteemof all whose purses were in his power.
Perhaps it is needless for me to say that all this time while my monthwas running--or rather crawling, for never month went so slow asthat with me--neither weed, nor seed, nor cattle, nor my own mother'sanxiety, nor any care for my sister, kept me from looking once everyday, and even twice on a Sunday, for any sign of Lorna. For my heart wasever weary; in the budding valleys, and by the crystal waters, lookingat the lambs in fold, or the heifers on the mill, labouring in trickledfurrows, or among the beaded blades; halting fresh to see the sun liftover the golden-vapoured ridge; or doffing hat, from sweat of brow, towatch him sink in the low gray sea; be it as it would of day, of work,or night, or slumber, it was a weary heart I bore, and fear was on thebrink of it.
All the beauty of the spring went for happy men to think of; all theincrease of the year was for other eyes to mark. Not a sign of anysunrise for me from my fount of life, not a breath to stir the deadleaves fallen on my heart's Spring.
Lorna Doone: A Romance of Exmoor Page 23
