Lorna Doone: A Romance of Exmoor

by R. D. Blackmore

  CHAPTER L

  A MERRY MEETING A SAD ONE

  Now the business I had most at heart (as every one knows by this time)was to marry Lorna as soon as might be, if she had no objection, andthen to work the farm so well, as to nourish all our family. And hereinI saw no difficulty; for Annie would soon be off our hands, and somebodymight come and take a fancy to little Lizzie (who was growing up verynicely now, though not so fine as Annie); moreover, we were almost sureto have great store of hay and corn after so much snow, if there be anytruth in the old saying,--

  "A foot deep of rain Will kill hay and grain; But three feet of snowWill make them come mo'."

  And although it was too true that we had lost a many cattle, yet even sowe had not lost money; for the few remaining fetched such prices aswere never known before. And though we grumbled with all our hearts,and really believed, at one time, that starvation was upon us, I doubtwhether, on the whole, we were not the fatter, and the richer, and thewiser for that winter. And I might have said the happier, except for thesorrow which we felt at the failures among our neighbours. The Snoweslost every sheep they had, and nine out of ten horned cattle; and poorJasper Kebby would have been forced to throw up the lease of his farm,and perhaps to go to prison, but for the help we gave him.

  However, my dear mother would have it that Lorna was too young, as yet,to think of being married: and indeed I myself was compelled to admitthat her form was becoming more perfect and lovely; though I had notthought it possible. And another difficulty was, that as we had allbeen Protestants from the time of Queen Elizabeth, the maiden must beconverted first, and taught to hate all Papists. Now Lorna had not thesmallest idea of ever being converted. She said that she loved me truly,but wanted not to convert me; and if I loved her equally, why should Iwish to convert her? With this I was tolerably content, not seeing sovery much difference between a creed and a credo, and believing God tobe our Father, in Latin as well as English. Moreover, my darling knewbut little of the Popish ways--whether excellent or otherwise--inasmuchas the Doones, though they stole their houses, or at least the joiner'swork, had never been tempted enough by the devil to steal either churchor chapel.

  Lorna came to our little church, when Parson Bowden reappeared after thesnow was over; and she said that all was very nice, and very like whatshe had seen in the time of her Aunt Sabina, when they went far away tothe little chapel, with a shilling in their gloves. It made the tearscome into her eyes, by the force of memory, when Parson Bowden did thethings, not so gracefully nor so well, yet with pleasant imitation ofher old Priest's sacred rites.

  'He is a worthy man,' she said, being used to talk in the service time,and my mother was obliged to cough: 'I like him very much indeed: but Iwish he would let me put his things the right way on his shoulders.'

  Everybody in our parish, who could walk at all, or hire a boy and awheelbarrow, ay, and half the folk from Countisbury, Brendon, and evenLynmouth, was and were to be found that Sunday, in our little churchof Oare. People who would not come anigh us, when the Doones werethreatening with carbine and with fire-brand, flocked in their very bestclothes, to see a lady Doone go to church. Now all this came of thatvile John Fry; I knew it as well as possible; his tongue was worse thanthe clacker of a charity-school bell, or the ladle in the frying-pan,when the bees are swarming.

  However, Lorna was not troubled; partly because of her natural dignityand gentleness; partly because she never dreamed that the people werecome to look at her. But when we came to the Psalms of the day, withsome vague sense of being stared at more than ought to be, she droppedthe heavy black lace fringing of the velvet hat she wore, and concealedfrom the congregation all except her bright red lips, and the ovalsnowdrift of her chin. I touched her hand, and she pressed mine; and wefelt that we were close together, and God saw no harm in it.

  As for Parson Bowden (as worthy a man as ever lived, and one who couldshoot flying), he scarcely knew what he was doing, without the clerk tohelp him. He had borne it very well indeed, when I returned from Londonbut to see a live Doone in his church, and a lady Doone, and a lovelyDoone, moreover one engaged to me, upon whom he almost looked as theSquire of his parish (although not rightly an Armiger), and to feel thatthis lovely Doone was a Papist, and therefore of higher religion--as allour parsons think--and that she knew exactly how he ought to do allthe service, of which he himself knew little; I wish to express my firmbelief that all these things together turned Parson Bowden's head alittle, and made him look to me for orders.

  My mother, the very best of women, was (as I could well perceive) alittle annoyed and vexed with things. For this particular occasion,she had procured from Dulverton, by special message to Ruth Huckaback(whereof more anon), a head-dress with a feather never seen before uponExmoor, to the best of every one's knowledge. It came from a birdcalled a flaming something--a flaming oh, or a flaming ah, I will not bepositive--but I can assure you that it did flame; and dear mother had noother thought, but that all the congregation would neither see nor thinkof any other mortal thing, or immortal even, to the very end of thesermon.

  Herein she was so disappointed, that no sooner did she get home, butupstairs she went at speed, not even stopping at the mirror in ourlittle parlour, and flung the whole thing into a cupboard, as I knew bythe bang of the door, having eased the lock for her lately. Lorna sawthere was something wrong; and she looked at Annie and Lizzie (as morelikely to understand it) with her former timid glance; which I knew sowell, and which had first enslaved me.

  'I know not what ails mother,' said Annie, who looked very beautiful,with lilac lute-string ribbons, which I saw the Snowe girls envying;'but she has not attended to one of the prayers, nor said "Amen," allthe morning. Never fear, darling Lorna, it is nothing about you. It issomething about our John, I am sure; for she never worries herself verymuch about anybody but him.' And here Annie made a look at me, such as Ihad had five hundred of.

  'You keep your opinions to yourself,' I replied; because I knew thedear, and her little bits of jealousy; 'it happens that you are quitewrong, this time. Lorna, come with me, my darling.'

  'Oh yes, Lorna; go with him,' cried Lizzie, dropping her lip, in a waywhich you must see to know its meaning; 'John wants nobody now but you;and none can find fault with his taste, dear.'

  'You little fool, I should think not,' I answered, very rudely; for,betwixt the lot of them, my Lorna's eyelashes were quivering; 'now,dearest angel, come with me; and snap your hands at the whole of them.'

  My angel did come, with a sigh, and then with a smile, when we werealone; but without any unangelic attempt at snapping her sweet whitefingers.

  These little things are enough to show that while every one so admiredLorna, and so kindly took to her, still there would, just now and then,be petty and paltry flashes of jealousy concerning her; and perhapsit could not be otherwise among so many women. However, we were alwaysdoubly kind to her afterwards; and although her mind was so sensitiveand quick that she must have suffered, she never allowed us to perceiveit, nor lowered herself by resenting it.

  Possibly I may have mentioned that little Ruth Huckaback had been asked,and had even promised to spend her Christmas with us; and this was themore desirable, because she had left us through some offence, or sorrow,about things said of her. Now my dear mother, being the kindest andbest-hearted of all women, could not bear that poor dear Ruth (who wouldsome day have such a fortune), should be entirely lost to us. 'It is ourduty, my dear children,' she said more than once about it, 'to forgiveand forget, as freely as we hope to have it done to us. If dear littleRuth has not behaved quite as we might have expected, great allowanceshould be made for a girl with so much money. Designing people get holdof her, and flatter her, and coax her, to obtain a base influence overher; so that when she falls among simple folk, who speak the honesttruth of her, no wonder the poor child is vexed, and gives herself airs,and so on. Ruth can be very useful to us in a number of little ways; andI consider it quite a duty to pardon her freak of petulance.'


  Now one of the little ways in which Ruth had been very useful, was thepurchase of the scarlet feathers of the flaming bird; and now thatthe house was quite safe from attack, and the mark on my forehead washealing, I was begged, over and over again, to go and see Ruth, and makeall things straight, and pay for the gorgeous plumage. This last I wasvery desirous to do, that I might know the price of it, having madea small bet on the subject with Annie; and having held counsel withmyself, whether or not it were possible to get something of the kind forLorna, of still more distinguished appearance. Of course she could notwear scarlet as yet, even if I had wished it; but I believed that peopleof fashion often wore purple for mourning; purple too was the royalcolour, and Lorna was by right a queen; therefore I was quite resolvedto ransack Uncle Reuben's stores, in search of some bright purple bird,if nature had kindly provided one.

  All this, however, I kept to myself, intending to trust Ruth Huckaback,and no one else in the matter. And so, one beautiful spring morning,when all the earth was kissed with scent, and all the air caressed withsong, up the lane I stoutly rode, well armed, and well provided.

  Now though it is part of my life to heed, it is no part of my tale totell, how the wheat was coming on. I reckon that you, who read thisstory, after I am dead and gone (and before that none shall read it),will say, 'Tush! What is his wheat to us? We are not wheat: we are humanbeings: and all we care for is human doings.' This may be very goodargument, and in the main, I believe that it is so. Nevertheless, if aman is to tell only what he thought and did, and not what came aroundhim, he must not mention his own clothes, which his father and motherbought for him. And more than my own clothes to me, ay, and as much asmy own skin, are the works of nature round about, whereof a man is thesmallest.

  And now I will tell you, although most likely only to be laughed at,because I cannot put it in the style of Mr. Dryden--whom to compare toShakespeare! but if once I begin upon that, you will never hear the lastof me--nevertheless, I will tell you this; not wishing to be rude, butonly just because I know it; the more a man can fling his arms (soto say) round Nature's neck, the more he can upon her bosom, like aninfant, lie and suck,--the more that man shall earn the trust and loveof all his fellow men.

  In this matter is no jealousy (when the man is dead); because thereafterall others know how much of the milk be had; and he can suck no longer;and they value him accordingly, for the nourishment he is to them. Evenas when we keep a roaster of the sucking-pigs, we choose, and praise attable most, the favourite of its mother. Fifty times have I seen this,and smiled, and praised our people's taste, and offered them more of thevitals.

  Now here am I upon Shakespeare (who died, of his own fruition, at theage of fifty-two, yet lived more than fifty thousand men, within hislittle span of life), when all the while I ought to be riding as hard asI can to Dulverton. But, to tell the truth, I could not ride hard, beingheld at every turn, and often without any turn at all, by the beautyof things around me. These things grow upon a man if once he stops tonotice them.

  It wanted yet two hours to noon, when I came to Master Huckaback's door,and struck the panels smartly. Knowing nothing of their manners, onlythat people in a town could not be expected to entertain (as we do infarm-houses), having, moreover, keen expectation of Master Huckaback'savarice, I had brought some stuff to eat, made by Annie, and packed byLorna, and requiring no thinking about it.

  Ruth herself came and let me in, blushing very heartily; for whichcolour I praised her health, and my praises heightened it. That littlething had lovely eyes, and could be trusted thoroughly. I do like anobstinate little woman, when she is sure that she is right. And indeedif love had never sped me straight to the heart of Lorna (compared towhom, Ruth was no more than the thief is to the candle), who knows butwhat I might have yielded to the law of nature, that thorough trimmer ofbalances, and verified the proverb that the giant loves the dwarf?

  'I take the privilege, Mistress Ruth, of saluting you according tokinship, and the ordering of the Canons.' And therewith I bussed herwell, and put my arm around her waist, being so terribly restricted inthe matter of Lorna, and knowing the use of practice. Not that I had anywarmth--all that was darling Lorna's--only out of pure gallantry, and myknowledge of London fashions. Ruth blushed to such a pitch at this, andlooked up at me with such a gleam; as if I must have my own way; thatall my love of kissing sunk, and I felt that I was wronging her. Onlymy mother had told me, when the girls were out of the way, to do all Icould to please darling Ruth, and I had gone about it accordingly.

  Now Ruth as yet had never heard a word about dear Lorna; and when sheled me into the kitchen (where everything looked beautiful), and told menot to mind, for a moment, about the scrubbing of my boots, because shewould only be too glad to clean it all up after me, and told me how gladshe was to see me, blushing more at every word, and recalling some ofthem, and stooping down for pots and pans, when I looked at her tooruddily--all these things came upon me so, without any legal notice,that I could only look at Ruth, and think how very good she was, and howbright her handles were; and wonder if I had wronged her. Once or twice,I began--this I say upon my honour--to endeavour to explain exactly, howwe were at Plover's Barrows; how we all had been bound to fight, and haddefeated the enemy, keeping their queen amongst us. But Ruth wouldmake some great mistake between Lorna and Gwenny Carfax, and gave me nochance to set her aright, and cared about nothing much, except some newsof Sally Snowe.

  What could I do with this little thing? All my sense of modesty, andvalue for my dinner, were against my over-pressing all the gracefulhints I had given about Lorna. Ruth was just a girl of that sort, whowill not believe one word, except from her own seeing; not so muchfrom any doubt, as from the practice of using eyes which have been inbusiness.

  I asked Cousin Ruth (as we used to call her, though the cousinship wasdistant) what was become of Uncle Ben, and how it was that we neverheard anything of or from him now. She replied that she hardly knewwhat to make of her grandfather's manner of carrying on, for the lasthalf-year or more. He was apt to leave his home, she said, at any hourof the day or night; going none knew whither, and returning no onemight say when. And his dress, in her opinion, was enough to frightena hodman, of a scavenger of the roads, instead of the decent suitof kersey, or of Sabbath doeskins, such as had won the respect andreverence of his fellow-townsmen. But the worst of all things was, asshe confessed with tears in her eyes, that the poor old gentleman hadsomething weighing heavily on his mind.

  'It will shorten his days, Cousin Ridd,' she said, for she never wouldcall me Cousin John; 'he has no enjoyment of anything that he eats ordrinks, nor even in counting his money, as he used to do all Sunday;indeed no pleasure in anything, unless it be smoking his pipe, andthinking and staring at bits of brown stone, which he pulls, every nowand then, out of his pockets. And the business he used to take suchpride in is now left almost entirely to the foreman, and to me.'

  'And what will become of you, dear Ruth, if anything happens to the oldman?'

  'I am sure I know not,' she answered simply; 'and I cannot bear to thinkof it. It must depend, I suppose, upon dear grandfather's pleasure aboutme.'

  'It must rather depend,' said I, though having no business to say it,'upon your own good pleasure, Ruth; for all the world will pay court toyou.'

  'That is the very thing which I never could endure. I have begged deargrandfather to leave no chance of that. When he has threatened me withpoverty, as he does sometimes, I have always met him truly, with theanswer that I feared one thing a great deal worse than poverty; namely,to be an heiress. But I cannot make him believe it. Only think howstrange, Cousin Ridd, I cannot make him believe it.'

  'It is not strange at all,' I answered; 'considering how he valuesmoney. Neither would any one else believe you, except by looking intoyour true, and very pretty eyes, dear.'

  Now I beg that no one will suspect for a single moment, either that Idid not mean exactly what I said, or meant a single atom more, or wouldnot have said the sa
me, if Lorna had been standing by. What I had alwaysliked in Ruth, was the calm, straightforward gaze, and beauty of herlarge brown eyes. Indeed I had spoken of them to Lorna, as the only onesto be compared (though not for more than a moment) to her own, for truthand light, but never for depth and softness. But now the little maidendropped them, and turned away, without reply.

  'I will go and see to my horse,' I said; 'the boy that has taken himseemed surprised at his having no horns on his forehead. Perhaps he willlead him into the shop, and feed him upon broadcloth.'

  'Oh, he is such a stupid boy,' Ruth answered with great sympathy: 'howquick of you to observe that now: and you call yourself "Slow JohnRidd!" I never did see such a stupid boy: sometimes he spoils my temper.But you must be back in half an hour, at the latest, Cousin Ridd. Yousee I remember what you are; when once you get among horses, or cows, orthings of that sort.'

  'Things of that sort! Well done, Ruth! One would think you were quite aCockney.'

  Uncle Reuben did not come home to his dinner; and his granddaughter saidshe had strictest orders never to expect him. Therefore we had none todine with us, except the foreman of the shop, a worthy man, namedThomas Cockram, fifty years of age or so. He seemed to me to have strongintentions of his own about little Ruth, and on that account to regardme with a wholly undue malevolence. And perhaps, in order to justifyhim, I may have been more attentive to her than otherwise need havebeen; at any rate, Ruth and I were pleasant; and he the very opposite.

  'My dear Cousin Ruth,' I said, on purpose to vex Master Cockram, becausehe eyed us so heavily, and squinted to unluckily, 'we have long beenlooking for you at our Plover's Barrows farm. You remember how you usedto love hunting for eggs in the morning, and hiding up in the tallatwith Lizzie, for me to seek you among the hay, when the sun was down.Ah, Master Cockram, those are the things young people findtheir pleasure in, not in selling a yard of serge, and givingtwopence-halfpenny change, and writing "settled" at the bottom, with apencil that has blacked their teeth. Now, Master Cockram, you ought tocome as far as our good farm, at once, and eat two new-laid eggs forbreakfast, and be made to look quite young again. Our good Annie wouldcook for you; and you should have the hot new milk and the pope's eyefrom the mutton and every foot of you would become a yard in about afortnight.' And hereupon, I spread my chest, to show him an example.Ruth could not keep her countenance: but I saw that she thought it wrongof me; and would scold me, if ever I gave her the chance of taking thoselittle liberties. However, he deserved it all, according to my youngideas, for his great impertinence in aiming at my cousin.

  But what I said was far less grievous to a man of honest mind thanlittle Ruth's own behaviour. I could hardly have believed that sothoroughly true a girl, and one so proud and upright, could have got ridof any man so cleverly as she got rid of Master Thomas Cockram. She gavehim not even a glass of wine, but commended to his notice, with a sweetand thoughtful gravity, some invoice which must be corrected, before herdear grandfather should return; and to amend which three great ledgersmust be searched from first to last. Thomas Cockram winked at me, withthe worst of his two wrong eyes; as much as to say, 'I understand it;but I cannot help myself. Only you look out, if ever'--and before he hadfinished winking, the door was shut behind him. Then Ruth said to me inthe simplest manner, 'You have ridden far today, Cousin Ridd; and havefar to ride to get home again. What will dear Aunt Ridd say, if we sendyou away without nourishment? All the keys are in my keeping, anddear grandfather has the finest wine, not to be matched in the west ofEngland, as I have heard good judges say; though I know not wine fromcider. Do you like the wine of Oporto, or the wine of Xeres?'

  'I know not one from the other, fair cousin, except by the colour,' Ianswered: 'but the sound of Oporto is nobler, and richer. Suppose we trywine of Oporto.'

  The good little creature went and fetched a black bottle of an ancientcast, covered with dust and cobwebs. These I was anxious to shake aside;and indeed I thought that the wine would be better for being roused up alittle. Ruth, however, would not hear a single word to that purport;and seeing that she knew more about it, I left her to manage it. And theresult was very fine indeed, to wit, a sparkling rosy liquor, dancingwith little flakes of light, and scented like new violets. With this Iwas so pleased and gay, and Ruth so glad to see me gay, that we quiteforgot how the time went on and though my fair cousin would not bepersuaded to take a second glass herself, she kept on filling mine sofast that it was never empty, though I did my best to keep it so.

  'What is a little drop like this to a man of your size and strength,Cousin Ridd?' she said, with her cheeks just brushed with rose, whichmade her look very beautiful; 'I have heard you say that your head is sothick--or rather so clear, you ought to say--that no liquor ever movesit.'

  'That is right enough,' I answered; 'what a witch you must be, dearRuth, to have remembered that now!'

  'Oh, I remember every word I have ever heard you say, Cousin Ridd;because your voice is so deep, you know, and you talk so little. Nowit is useless to say "no". These bottles hold almost nothing. Deargrandfather will not come home, I fear, until long after you are gone.What will Aunt Ridd think of me, I am sure? You are all so dreadfullyhospitable. Now not another "no," Cousin Ridd. We must have anotherbottle.'

  'Well, must is must,' I answered, with a certain resignation. 'I cannotbear bad manners, dear; and how old are you next birthday?'

  'Eighteen, dear John;' said Ruth, coming over with the empty bottle;and I was pleased at her calling me 'John,' and had a great mind to kissher. However, I thought of my Lorna suddenly, and of the anger I shouldfeel if a man went on with her so; therefore I lay back in my chair, towait for the other bottle.

  'Do you remember how we danced that night?' I asked, while she wasopening it; 'and how you were afraid of me first, because I looked sotall, dear?'

  'Yes, and so very broad, Cousin Ridd. I thought that you would eat me.But I have come to know, since then, how very kind and good you are.'

  'And will you come and dance again, at my wedding, Cousin Ruth?'

  She nearly let the bottle fall, the last of which she was slopingcarefully into a vessel of bright glass; and then she raised her handagain, and finished it judiciously. And after that, she took the window,to see that all her work was clear; and then she poured me out a glassand said, with very pale cheeks, but else no sign of meaning about her,'What did you ask me, Cousin Ridd?'

  'Nothing of any importance, Ruth; only we are so fond of you. I mean tobe married as soon as I can. Will you come and help us?'

  'To be sure I will, Cousin Ridd--unless, unless, dear grandfather cannotspare me from the business.' She went away; and her breast was heaving,like a rick of under-carried hay. And she stood at the window long,trying to make yawns of sighs.

  For my part, I knew not what to do. And yet I could think about it, asI never could with Lorna; with whom I was always in a whirl, from thepower of my love. So I thought some time about it; and perceived that itwas the manliest way, just to tell her everything; except that I fearedshe liked me. But it seemed to me unaccountable that she did not evenask the name of my intended wife. Perhaps she thought that it must beSally; or perhaps she feared to trust her voice.

  'Come and sit by me, dear Ruth; and listen to a long, long story, howthings have come about with me.'

  'No, thank you, Cousin Ridd,' she answered; 'at least I mean that Ishall be happy--that I shall be ready to hear you--to listen to you, Imean of course. But I would rather stay where I am, and have the air--orrather be able to watch for dear grandfather coming home. He is so kindand good to me. What should I do without him?'

  Then I told her how, for years and years, I had been attached to Lorna,and all the dangers and difficulties which had so long beset us, andhow I hoped that these were passing, and no other might come betweenus, except on the score of religion upon which point I trusted soonto overcome my mother's objections. And then I told her how poor, andhelpless, and alone in the world, my Lorna was; and how sad all heryouth ha
d been, until I brought her away at last. And many other littlethings I mentioned, which there is no need for me again to dwell upon.Ruth heard it all without a word, and without once looking at me; andonly by her attitude could I guess that she was weeping. Then when allmy tale was told, she asked in a low and gentle voice, but still withoutshowing her face to me,--

  'And does she love you, Cousin Ridd? Does she say that she loves youwith--with all her heart?'

  'Certainly, she does,' I answered. 'Do you think it impossible for onelike her to do so?'

  She said no more; but crossed the room before I had time to look at her,and came behind my chair, and kissed me gently on the forehead.

  'I hope you may be very happy, with--I mean in your new life,' shewhispered very softly; 'as happy as you deserve to be, and as happy asyou can make others be. Now how I have been neglecting you! I am quiteashamed of myself for thinking only of grandfather: and it makes me solow-spirited. You have told me a very nice romance, and I have nevereven helped you to a glass of wine. Here, pour it for yourself, dearcousin; I shall be back again directly.'

  With that she was out of the door in a moment; and when she came back,you would not have thought that a tear had dimmed those large brighteyes, or wandered down those pale clear cheeks. Only her hands were coldand trembling: and she made me help myself.

  Uncle Reuben did not appear at all; and Ruth, who had promised to comeand see us, and stay for a fortnight at our house (if her grandfathercould spare her), now discovered, before I left, that she must not thinkof doing so. Perhaps she was right in deciding thus; at any rate it hadnow become improper for me to press her. And yet I now desired tenfoldthat she should consent to come, thinking that Lorna herself would workthe speediest cure of her passing whim.

  For such, I tried to persuade myself, was the nature of Ruth's regardfor me: and upon looking back I could not charge myself with anymisconduct towards the little maiden. I had never sought her company, Ihad never trifled with her (at least until that very day), and being soengrossed with my own love, I had scarcely ever thought of her. And themaiden would never have thought of me, except as a clumsy yokel, but formy mother's and sister's meddling, and their wily suggestions. I believethey had told the little soul that I was deeply in love with her;although they both stoutly denied it. But who can place trust in awoman's word, when it comes to a question of match-making?