Lorna Doone: A Romance of Exmoor

by R. D. Blackmore

  CHAPTER XXVIII

  JOHN HAS HOPE OF LORNA

  Much as I longed to know more about Lorna, and though all my heart wasyearning, I could not reconcile it yet with my duty to mother and Annie,to leave them on the following day, which happened to be a Sunday. Forlo, before breakfast was out of our mouths, there came all the men ofthe farm, and their wives, and even the two crow-boys, dressed as ifgoing to Barnstaple fair, to inquire how Master John was, and whetherit was true that the King had made him one of his body-guard; and ifso, what was to be done with the belt for the championship of theWest-Counties wrestling, which I had held now for a year or more, andnone were ready to challenge it. Strange to say, this last point seemedthe most important of all to them; and none asked who was to manage thefarm, or answer for their wages; but all asked who was to wear the belt.

  To this I replied, after shaking hands twice over all round with allof them, that I meant to wear the belt myself, for the honour ofOare parish, so long as ever God gave me strength and health to meetall-comers; for I had never been asked to be body-guard, and if askedI would never have done it. Some of them cried that the King must bemazed, not to keep me for his protection, in these violent times ofPopery. I could have told them that the King was not in the least afraidof Papists, but on the contrary, very fond of them; however, I held mytongue, remembering what Judge Jeffreys bade me.

  In church, the whole congregation, man, woman, and child (except,indeed, the Snowe girls, who only looked when I was not watching),turned on me with one accord, and stared so steadfastly, to get somereflection of the King from me, that they forgot the time to kneel downand the parson was forced to speak to them. If I coughed, or movedmy book, or bowed, or even said 'Amen,' glances were exchanged whichmeant--'That he hath learned in London town, and most likely from HisMajesty.'

  However, all this went off in time, and people became even angry withme for not being sharper (as they said), or smarter, or a whit morefashionable, for all the great company I had seen, and all the wondrousthings wasted upon me.

  But though I may have been none the wiser by reason of my stay inLondon, at any rate I was much the better in virtue of coming homeagain. For now I had learned the joy of quiet, and the gratitude forgood things round us, and the love we owe to others (even those who mustbe kind), for their indulgence to us. All this, before my journey, hadbeen too much as a matter of course to me; but having missed it now Iknew that it was a gift, and might be lost. Moreover, I had pined somuch, in the dust and heat of that great town, for trees, and fields,and running waters, and the sounds of country life, and the airof country winds, that never more could I grow weary of those softenjoyments; or at least I thought so then.

  To awake as the summer sun came slanting over the hill-tops, with hopeon every beam adance to the laughter of the morning; to see the leavesacross the window ruffling on the fresh new air, and the tendrils of thepowdery vine turning from their beaded sleep. Then the lustrous meadowsfar beyond the thatch of the garden-wall, yet seen beneath the hangingscollops of the walnut-tree, all awaking, dressed in pearl, all amazedat their own glistening, like a maid at her own ideas. Down them troopthe lowing kine, walking each with a step of character (even as men andwomen do), yet all alike with toss of horns, and spread of udders ready.From them without a word, we turn to the farm-yard proper, seen on theright, and dryly strawed from the petty rush of the pitch-paved runnel.Round it stand the snug out-buildings, barn, corn-chamber, cider-press,stables, with a blinker'd horse in every doorway munching, while hisdriver tightens buckles, whistles and looks down the lane, dallyingto begin his labour till the milkmaids be gone by. Here the cockcomes forth at last;--where has he been lingering?--eggs may tellto-morrow--he claps his wings and shouts 'cock-a-doodle'; and no othercock dare look at him. Two or three go sidling off, waiting till theirspurs be grown; and then the crowd of partlets comes, chattering howtheir lord has dreamed, and crowed at two in the morning, and prayingthat the old brown rat would only dare to face him. But while the cockis crowing still, and the pullet world admiring him, who comes up butthe old turkey-cock, with all his family round him. Then the geeseat the lower end begin to thrust their breasts out, and mum theirdown-bits, and look at the gander and scream shrill joy for theconflict; while the ducks in pond show nothing but tail, in proof oftheir strict neutrality.

  While yet we dread for the coming event, and the fight which would jaron the morning, behold the grandmother of sows, gruffly grunting rightand left with muzzle which no ring may tame (not being matrimonial),hulks across between the two, moving all each side at once, and then allof the other side as if she were chined down the middle, and afraidof spilling the salt from her. As this mighty view of lard hides eachcombatant from the other, gladly each retires and boasts how he wouldhave slain his neighbour, but that old sow drove the other away, and nowonder he was afraid of her, after all the chicks she had eaten.

  And so it goes on and so the sun comes, stronger from his drink of dew;and the cattle in the byres, and the horses from the stable, and the menfrom cottage-door, each has had his rest and food, all smell alike ofhay and straw, and every one must hie to work, be it drag, or draw, ordelve.

  So thought I on the Monday morning; while my own work lay before me,and I was plotting how to quit it, void of harm to every one, and let mylove have work a little--hardest perhaps of all work, and yet as sure assunrise. I knew that my first day's task on the farm would be strictlywatched by every one, even by my gentle mother, to see what I hadlearned in London. But could I let still another day pass, for Lorna tothink me faithless?

  I felt much inclined to tell dear mother all about Lorna, and how Iloved her, yet had no hope of winning her. Often and often, I hadlonged to do this, and have done with it. But the thought of my father'sterrible death, at the hands of the Doones, prevented me. And it seemedto me foolish and mean to grieve mother, without any chance of my suitever speeding. If once Lorna loved me, my mother should know it; and itwould be the greatest happiness to me to have no concealment from her,though at first she was sure to grieve terribly. But I saw no morechance of Lorna loving me, than of the man in the moon coming down; orrather of the moon coming down to the man, as related in old mythology.

  Now the merriment of the small birds, and the clear voice of the waters,and the lowing of cattle in meadows, and the view of no houses (exceptjust our own and a neighbour's), and the knowledge of everybody around,their kindness of heart and simplicity, and love of their neighbour'sdoings,--all these could not help or please me at all, and many of themwere much against me, in my secret depth of longing and dark tumult ofthe mind. Many people may think me foolish, especially after coming fromLondon, where many nice maids looked at me (on account of my bulk andstature), and I might have been fitted up with a sweetheart, in spite ofmy west-country twang, and the smallness of my purse; if only I hadsaid the word. But nay; I have contempt for a man whose heart is likea shirt-stud (such as I saw in London cards), fitted into one to-day,sitting bravely on the breast; plucked out on the morrow morn, and theplace that knew it, gone.

  Now, what did I do but take my chance; reckless whether any one heededme or not, only craving Lorna's heed, and time for ten words to her.Therefore I left the men of the farm as far away as might be, aftermaking them work with me (which no man round our parts could do, to hisown satisfaction), and then knowing them to be well weary, very unliketo follow me--and still more unlike to tell of me, for each had hisLondon present--I strode right away, in good trust of my speed, withoutany more misgivings; but resolved to face the worst of it, and to try tobe home for supper.

  And first I went, I know not why, to the crest of the broken highland,whence I had agreed to watch for any mark or signal. And sure enough atlast I saw (when it was too late to see) that the white stone had beencovered over with a cloth or mantle,--the sign that something had arisento make Lorna want me. For a moment I stood amazed at my evil fortune;that I should be too late, in the very thing of all things on which myheart was set! Then a
fter eyeing sorrowfully every crick and cranny tobe sure that not a single flutter of my love was visible, off I set,with small respect either for my knees or neck, to make the round of theouter cliffs, and come up my old access.

  Nothing could stop me; it was not long, although to me it seemed anage, before I stood in the niche of rock at the head of the slipperywatercourse, and gazed into the quiet glen, where my foolish heart wasdwelling. Notwithstanding doubts of right, notwithstanding sense ofduty, and despite all manly striving, and the great love of my home,there my heart was ever dwelling, knowing what a fool it was, andcontent to know it.

  Many birds came twittering round me in the gold of August; many treesshowed twinkling beauty, as the sun went lower; and the lines of waterfell, from wrinkles into dimples. Little heeding, there I crouched;though with sense of everything that afterwards should move me, like apicture or a dream; and everything went by me softly, while my heart wasgazing.

  At last, a little figure came, not insignificant (I mean), but lookingvery light and slender in the moving shadows, gently here and softlythere, as if vague of purpose, with a gloss of tender movement, in andout the wealth of trees, and liberty of the meadow. Who was I to crouch,or doubt, or look at her from a distance; what matter if they killed menow, and one tear came to bury me? Therefore I rushed out at once, as ifshot-guns were unknown yet; not from any real courage, but from prisonedlove burst forth.

  I know not whether my own Lorna was afraid of what I looked, or what Imight say to her, or of her own thoughts of me; all I know is that shelooked frightened, when I hoped for gladness. Perhaps the power of myjoy was more than maiden liked to own, or in any way to answer to; andto tell the truth, it seemed as if I might now forget myself; while shewould take good care of it. This makes a man grow thoughtful; unless, assome low fellows do, he believe all women hypocrites.

  Therefore I went slowly towards her, taken back in my impulse; and saidall I could come to say, with some distress in doing it.

  'Mistress Lorna, I had hope that you were in need of me.'

  'Oh, yes; but that was long ago; two months ago, or more, sir.' Andsaying this she looked away, as if it all were over. But I was nowso dazed and frightened, that it took my breath away, and I could notanswer, feeling sure that I was robbed and some one else had won her.And I tried to turn away, without another word, and go.

  But I could not help one stupid sob, though mad with myself for allowingit, but it came too sharp for pride to stay it, and it told a worldof things. Lorna heard it, and ran to me, with her bright eyes full ofwonder, pity, and great kindness, as if amazed that I had more than asimple liking for her. Then she held out both hands to me; and I tookand looked at them.

  'Master Ridd, I did not mean,' she whispered, very softly, 'I did notmean to vex you.'

  'If you would be loath to vex me, none else in this world can do it,' Ianswered out of my great love, but fearing yet to look at her, mine eyesnot being strong enough.

  'Come away from this bright place,' she answered, trembling in her turn;'I am watched and spied of late. Come beneath the shadows, John.'

  I would have leaped into the valley of the shadow of death (as describedby the late John Bunyan), only to hear her call me 'John'; thoughApollyon were lurking there, and Despair should lock me in.

  She stole across the silent grass; but I strode hotly after her; fearwas all beyond me now, except the fear of losing her. I could not butbehold her manner, as she went before me, all her grace, and lovelysweetness, and her sense of what she was.

  She led me to her own rich bower, which I told of once before; and ifin spring it were a sight, what was it in summer glory? But although mymind had notice of its fairness and its wonder, not a heed my heart tookof it, neither dwelt it in my presence more than flowing water. Allthat in my presence dwelt, all that in my heart was felt, was the maidenmoving gently, and afraid to look at me.

  For now the power of my love was abiding on her, new to her, unknown toher; not a thing to speak about, nor even to think clearly; only just tofeel and wonder, with a pain of sweetness. She could look at me no more,neither could she look away, with a studied manner--only to let fall hereyes, and blush, and be put out with me, and still more with herself.

  I left her quite alone; though close, though tingling to have hold ofher. Even her right hand was dropped and lay among the mosses. Neitherdid I try to steal one glimpse below her eyelids. Life and death to mewere hanging on the first glance I should win; yet I let it be so.

  After long or short--I know not, yet ere I was weary, ere I yet beganto think or wish for any answer--Lorna slowly raised her eyelids, witha gleam of dew below them, and looked at me doubtfully. Any look with somuch in it never met my gaze before.

  'Darling, do you love me?' was all that I could say to her.

  'Yes, I like you very much,' she answered, with her eyes gone from me,and her dark hair falling over, so as not to show me things.

  'But do you love me, Lorna, Lorna; do you love me more than all theworld?'

  'No, to be sure not. Now why should I?'

  'In truth, I know not why you should. Only I hoped that you did, Lorna.Either love me not at all, or as I love you for ever.'

  'John I love you very much; and I would not grieve you. You are thebravest, and the kindest, and the simplest of all men--I mean of allpeople--I like you very much, Master Ridd, and I think of you almostevery day.'

  'That will not do for me, Lorna. Not almost every day I think, but everyinstant of my life, of you. For you I would give up my home, my love ofall the world beside, my duty to my dearest ones, for you I would giveup my life, and hope of life beyond it. Do you love me so?'

  'Not by any means,' said Lorna; 'no, I like you very much, when you donot talk so wildly; and I like to see you come as if you would fill ourvalley up, and I like to think that even Carver would be nothing inyour hands--but as to liking you like that, what should make it likely?especially when I have made the signal, and for some two months or moreyou have never even answered it! If you like me so ferociously, why doyou leave me for other people to do just as they like with me?'

  'To do as they liked! Oh, Lorna, not to make you marry Carver?'

  'No, Master Ridd, be not frightened so; it makes me fear to look atyou.'

  'But you have not married Carver yet? Say quick! Why keep me waitingso?'

  'Of course I have not, Master Ridd. Should I be here if I had, thinkyou, and allowing you to like me so, and to hold my hand, and make melaugh, as I declare you almost do sometimes? And at other times youfrighten me.'

  'Did they want you to marry Carver? Tell me all the truth of it.'

  'Not yet, not yet. They are not half so impetuous as you are, John. I amonly just seventeen, you know, and who is to think of marrying? Butthey wanted me to give my word, and be formally betrothed to him in thepresence of my grandfather. It seems that something frightened them.There is a youth named Charleworth Doone, every one calls him "Charlie";a headstrong and a gay young man, very gallant in his looks and manner;and my uncle, the Counsellor, chose to fancy that Charlie looked at metoo much, coming by my grandfather's cottage.'

  Here Lorna blushed so that I was frightened, and began to hate thisCharlie more, a great deal more, than even Carver Doone.

  'He had better not,' said I; 'I will fling him over it, if he dare. Heshall see thee through the roof, Lorna, if at all he see thee.'

  'Master Ridd, you are worse than Carver! I thought you were sokind-hearted. Well, they wanted me to promise, and even to swear asolemn oath (a thing I have never done in my life) that I would wedmy eldest cousin, this same Carver Doone, who is twice as old as I am,being thirty-five and upwards. That was why I gave the token that Iwished to see you, Master Ridd. They pointed out how much it was forthe peace of all the family, and for mine own benefit; but I would notlisten for a moment, though the Counsellor was most eloquent, and mygrandfather begged me to consider, and Carver smiled his pleasantest,which is a truly frightful thing. Then both he and his crafty f
atherwere for using force with me; but Sir Ensor would not hear of it; andthey have put off that extreme until he shall be past its knowledge,or, at least, beyond preventing it. And now I am watched, and spied, andfollowed, and half my little liberty seems to be taken from me. I couldnot be here speaking with you, even in my own nook and refuge, but forthe aid, and skill, and courage of dear little Gwenny Carfax. She isnow my chief reliance, and through her alone I hope to baffle all myenemies, since others have forsaken me.'

  Tears of sorrow and reproach were lurking in her soft dark eyes, untilin fewest words I told her that my seeming negligence was nothing butmy bitter loss and wretched absence far away; of which I had so vainlystriven to give any tidings without danger to her. When she heard allthis, and saw what I had brought from London (which was nothing lessthan a ring of pearls with a sapphire in the midst of them, as pretty ascould well be found), she let the gentle tears flow fast, and cameand sat so close beside me, that I trembled like a folded sheep at thebleating of her lamb. But recovering comfort quickly, without more ado,I raised her left hand and observed it with a nice regard, wondering atthe small blue veins, and curves, and tapering whiteness, and the pointsit finished with. My wonder seemed to please her much, herself so wellaccustomed to it, and not fond of watching it. And then, before shecould say a word, or guess what I was up to, as quick as ever I turnedhand in a bout of wrestling, on her finger was my ring--sapphire for theveins of blue, and pearls to match white fingers.

  'Oh, you crafty Master Ridd!' said Lorna, looking up at me, and blushingnow a far brighter blush than when she spoke of Charlie; 'I thought thatyou were much too simple ever to do this sort of thing. No wonder youcan catch the fish, as when first I saw you.'

  'Have I caught you, little fish? Or must all my life be spent inhopeless angling for you?'

  'Neither one nor the other, John! You have not caught me yet altogether,though I like you dearly John; and if you will only keep away, I shalllike you more and more. As for hopeless angling, John--that all othersshall have until I tell you otherwise.'

  With the large tears in her eyes--tears which seemed to me to risepartly from her want to love me with the power of my love--she put herpure bright lips, half smiling, half prone to reply to tears, against myforehead lined with trouble, doubt, and eager longing. And then she drewmy ring from off that snowy twig her finger, and held it out to me; andthen, seeing how my face was falling, thrice she touched it with herlips, and sweetly gave it back to me. 'John, I dare not take it now;else I should be cheating you. I will try to love you dearly, even asyou deserve and wish. Keep it for me just till then. Something tells meI shall earn it in a very little time. Perhaps you will be sorry then,sorry when it is all too late, to be loved by such as I am.'

  What could I do at her mournful tone, but kiss a thousand times the handwhich she put up to warn me, and vow that I would rather die with oneassurance of her love, than without it live for ever with all besidethat the world could give? Upon this she looked so lovely, with her darkeyelashes trembling, and her soft eyes full of light, and the colour ofclear sunrise mounting on her cheeks and brow, that I was forced to turnaway, being overcome with beauty.

  'Dearest darling, love of my life,' I whispered through her clouds ofhair; 'how long must I wait to know, how long must I linger doubtingwhether you can ever stoop from your birth and wondrous beauty to apoor, coarse hind like me, an ignorant unlettered yeoman--'

  'I will not have you revile yourself,' said Lorna, very tenderly--justas I had meant to make her. 'You are not rude and unlettered, John. Youknow a great deal more than I do; you have learned both Greek and Latin,as you told me long ago, and you have been at the very best school inthe West of England. None of us but my grandfather, and the Counsellor(who is a great scholar), can compare with you in this. And though Ihave laughed at your manner of speech, I only laughed in fun, John; Inever meant to vex you by it, nor knew that it had done so.'

  'Naught you say can vex me, dear,' I answered, as she leaned towardsme in her generous sorrow; 'unless you say "Begone, John Ridd; I loveanother more than you."'

  'Then I shall never vex you, John. Never, I mean, by saying that. Now,John, if you please, be quiet--'

  For I was carried away so much by hearing her calling me 'John' sooften, and the music of her voice, and the way she bent toward me, andthe shadow of soft weeping in the sunlight of her eyes, that some ofmy great hand was creeping in a manner not to be imagined, and farless explained, toward the lithesome, wholesome curving underneath hermantle-fold, and out of sight and harm, as I thought; not being herfront waist. However, I was dashed with that, and pretended not to meanit; only to pluck some lady-fern, whose elegance did me no good.

  'Now, John,' said Lorna, being so quick that not even a lover couldcheat her, and observing my confusion more intently than she need havedone. 'Master John Ridd, it is high time for you to go home to yourmother. I love your mother very much from what you have told me abouther, and I will not have her cheated.'

  'If you truly love my mother,' said I, very craftily 'the only way toshow it is by truly loving me.'

  Upon that she laughed at me in the sweetest manner, and with suchprovoking ways, and such come-and-go of glances, and beginning of quickblushes, which she tried to laugh away, that I knew, as well as if sheherself had told me, by some knowledge (void of reasoning, and the surerfor it), I knew quite well, while all my heart was burning hot withinme, and mine eyes were shy of hers, and her eyes were shy of mine; forcertain and for ever this I knew--as in a glory--that Lorna Doone hadnow begun and would go on to love me.