CHAPTER XXVII
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. Forthough five pounds was enough to keep me in food and lodging upon theroad, and leave me many a shilling to give to far poorer travellers, itwould have been nothing for horse-hire, as I knew too well by the pricesJeremy Stickles had paid upon our way to London. Now I never saw aprettier town than Dunster looked that evening; for sooth to say, I hadalmost lost all hope of reaching it that night, although the castle waslong in view. But being once there, my troubles were gone, at least asregarded wayfaring; for mother's cousin, the worthy tanner (with whom wehad slept on the way to London), was in such indignation at the plightin which I came back to him, afoot, and weary, and almost shoeless--notto speak of upper things--that he swore then, by the mercy of God, thatif the schemes abrewing round him, against those bloody Papists, shouldcome to any head or shape, and show good chance of succeeding, he wouldrisk a thousand pounds, as though it were a penny.
I told him not to do it, because I had heard otherwise, but was not atliberty to tell one-tenth of what I knew, and indeed had seen in Londontown. But of this he took no heed, because I only nodded at him; andhe could not make it out. For it takes an old man, or at least amiddle-aged one, to nod and wink, with any power on the brains of othermen. However, I think I made him know that the bad state in which I cameto his town, and the great shame I had wrought for him among the folkround the card-table at the Luttrell Arms, was not to be, even there,attributed to King Charles the Second, nor even to his counsellors, butto my own speed of travelling, which had beat post-horses. For beingmuch distraught in mind, and desperate in body, I had made all the wayfrom London to Dunster in six days, and no more. It may be one hundredand seventy miles, I cannot tell to a furlong or two, especially as Ilost my way more than a dozen times; but at any rate there in six daysI was, and most kindly they received me. The tanner had some excellentdaughters, I forget how many; very pretty damsels, and well set up, andable to make good pastry. But though they asked me many questions, andmade a sort of lord of me, and offered to darn my stockings (which intruth required it), I fell asleep in the midst of them, although I wouldnot acknowledge it; and they said, 'Poor cousin! he is weary', and ledme 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 frightenedme 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 ofthem. 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 itimpossible to keep me for the day, and owning indeed that I was rightin hastening to my mother, vowed that walk I should not, even though helost his Saturday hides from Minehead and from Watchett. Accordingly hesent me forth on the very strongest nag he had, and the maidens cameto wish me God-speed, and kissed their hands at the doorway. It mademe proud and glad to think that after seeing so much of the world, andhaving 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 heartwithin me, as I drew nearer, and more near, to the place of all I lovedand owned, to the haunt of every warm remembrance, the nest of all thefledgling hopes--in a word, to home? The first sheep I beheld on themoor with a great red J.R. on his side (for mother would have themmarked with my name, instead of her own as they should have been), I doassure you my spirit leaped, and all my sight came to my eyes. I shoutedout, 'Jem, boy!'--for that was his name, and a rare hand he was atfighting--and he knew me in spite of the stranger horse; and I leanedover and stroked his head, and swore he should never be mutton. And whenI was passed he set off at full gallop, to call the rest of the J.R.'stogether, and tell them young master was come home at last.
But bless your heart, and my own as well, it would take me all theafternoon to lay before you one-tenth of the things which came home tome in that one half-hour, as the sun was sinking, in the real way heought to sink. I touched my horse with no spur nor whip, feeling that myslow wits would go, if the sights came too fast over them. Here wasthe pool where we washed the sheep, and there was the hollow that oozedaway, where I had shot three wild ducks. Here was the peat-rick that hidmy dinner, when I could not go home for it, and there was the bush withthe thyme growing round it, where Annie had found a great swarm of ourbees. And now was the corner of the dry stone wall, where the moor gaveover 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 thericks 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 nearlypulled 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 everySaturday night; and I saw you for the last mile or more, but I would notcome round the corner, for fear that I should cry, John, and then notcry when I got you. Now I may cry as much as I like, and you neednot try to stop me, John, because I am so happy. But you mustn't cryyourself, John; what will mother think of you? She will be so jealous ofme.'
What mother thought I cannot tell; and indeed I doubt if she thought atall for more than half an hour, but only managed to hold me tight, andcry, 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 owndoing, and I ought to have the credit of it, and she even came down verysharply upon John's wife, Mrs. Fry, for saying that we must not be tooproud, for all of it was the Lord's doing. However, dear mother wasashamed of that afterwards, and asked Mrs. Fry's humble pardon andperhaps I ought not to have mentioned it.
Old Smiler had told them that I was coming--all the rest, I mean, exceptAnnie--for having escaped from his halter-ring, he was come out to grazein the lane a bit; when what should he see but a strange horse comingwith young master and mistress upon him, for Annie must needs get upbehind me, there being only sheep to look at her. Then Smiler gave usa 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 andgalloped straight home, and set every dog wild with barking.
Now, methinks, quite enough has been said concerning this mighty returnof the young John Ridd (which was known up at Cosgate that evening), andfeeling that I cannot describe it, how can I hope that any one else willlabour to imagine it, even of the few who are able? For very few canhave travelled so far, unless indeed they whose trade it is, or veryunsettled people. And even of those who have done so, not one in ahundred 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, andeven little Eliza, and all were unsettled in loyalty, and talked abouta republic, when I told them how I had been left without money fortravelling homeward, and expected to have to beg my way, which FarmerSnowe would have heard of. And though I could see they were disappointedat 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 wereaccustomed to. At least, my mother and Annie said so, without waitingto hear any more; but Lizzie did not answer to it, until I had opened mybag and shown the beautiful present I had for her. And then she kissedme, almost like Annie, and vowed that she thought very little ofcaptains.
For Lizzie's present was the best of all, I mean, of course, exceptLorna's (which I carried in my breast all the way, hoping that it mightmake her love me, from having lain so long, close to my heart). For Ihad brought Lizzie something dear, and a precious heavy book it was,and much beyond my understanding; whereas I knew well that to both theothers my gifts would be dear, for mine own sake. And happier peoplecould not be found than the whole of us were that evening.
Lorna Doone: A Romance of Exmoor Page 28
