Lorna Doone: A Romance of Exmoor

by R. D. Blackmore

  CHAPTER LV

  GETTING INTO CHANCERY

  Two of the Devonshire officers (Captains Pyke and Dallan) now tookcommand of the men who were left, and ordered all to go home again,commending much the bravery which had been displayed on all sides, andthe loyalty to the King, and the English constitution. This last wordalways seems to me to settle everything when said, because nobodyunderstands it, and yet all can puzzle their neighbours. So theDevonshire men, having beans to sow (which they ought to have done onGood Friday) went home; and our Somerset friends only stayed for twodays more to backbite them.

  To me the whole thing was purely grievous; not from any sense of defeat(though that was bad enough) but from the pain and anguish caused bydeath, and wounds, and mourning. 'Surely we have woes enough,' I used tothink of an evening, when the poor fellows could not sleep or rest, orlet others rest around them; 'surely all this smell of wounds is notincense men should pay to the God who made them. Death, when it comesand is done with, may be a bliss to any one; but the doubt of life ordeath, when a man lies, as it were, like a trunk upon a sawpit and agrisly head looks up at him, and the groans of pain are cleaving him,this would be beyond all bearing--but for Nature's sap--sweet hope.'

  Jeremy Stickles lay and tossed, and thrust up his feet in agony, andbit with his lipless mouth the clothes, and was proud to see blood uponthem. He looked at us ever so many times, as much as to say, 'Fools, letme die, then I shall have some comfort'; but we nodded at him sagely,especially the women, trying to convey to him, on no account to die yet.And then we talked to one another (on purpose for him to hear us), howbrave he was, and not the man to knock under in a hurry, and how heshould have the victory yet; and how well he looked, considering.

  These things cheered him a little now, and a little more next time; andevery time we went on so, he took it with less impatience. Then oncewhen he had been very quiet, and not even tried to frown at us, Annieleaned over, and kissed his forehead, and spread the pillows and sheet,with a curve as delicate as his own white ears; and then he feeblylifted hands, and prayed to God to bless her. And after that he cameround gently; though never to the man he had been, and never to speakloud again.

  For a time (as I may have implied before) Master Stickles's authority,and manner of levying duties, had not been taken kindly by the peopleround our neighbourhood. The manors of East Lynn and West Lynn, and eventhat of Woolhanger--although just then all three were at issue aboutsome rights of wreck, and the hanging of a sheep-stealer (a man of nogreat eminence, yet claimed by each for the sake of his clothes)--thesethree, having their rights impugned, or even superseded, as theydeclared by the quartering of soldiers in their neighbourhood, unitedvery kindly to oppose the King's Commissioner. However, Jeremy hadcontrived to conciliate the whole of them, not so much by anythingengaging in his deportment or delicate address, as by holding out brighthopes that the plunder of the Doone Glen might become divisible amongthe adjoining manors. Now I have never discovered a thing which thelords of manors (at least in our part of the world) do not believe tobelong to themselves, if only they could get their rights. And itdid seem natural enough that if the Doones were ousted, and a nicecollection of prey remained, this should be parted among the peoplehaving ancient rights of plunder. Nevertheless, Master Jeremy knew thatthe soldiers would have the first of it, and the King what they couldnot carry.

  And perhaps he was punished justly for language so misleading, by thegeneral indignation of the people all around us, not at his failure, butat himself, for that which he could in no wise prevent. And the stewardsof the manors rode up to our house on purpose to reproach him, and weregreatly vexed with all of us, because he was too ill to see them.

  To myself (though by rights the last to be thought of, among so muchpain and trouble) Jeremy's wound was a great misfortune, in more waysthan one. In the first place, it deferred my chance of imparting eitherto my mother or to Mistress Lorna my firm belief that the maid I lovedwas not sprung from the race which had slain my father; neither couldhe in any way have offended against her family. And this discovery I wasyearning more and more to declare to them; being forced to see (evenin the midst of all our warlike troubles) that a certain difference wasgrowing betwixt them both, and betwixt them and me. For although thewords of the Counsellor had seemed to fail among us, being bravelymet and scattered, yet our courage was but as wind flinging wide thetare-seeds, when the sower casts them from his bag. The crop may notcome evenly, many places may long lie bare, and the field be all inpatches; yet almost every vetch will spring, and tiller out, and stretchacross the scatterings where the wind puffed.

  And so dear mother and darling Lorna now had been for many a daythinking, worrying, and wearing, about the matter between us. Neitherliked to look at the other, as they used to do; with mother admiringLorna's eyes, and grace, and form of breeding; and Lorna loving mother'sgoodness, softness, and simplicity. And the saddest and most hurtfulthing was that neither could ask the other of the shadow falling betweenthem. And so it went on, and deepened.

  In the next place Colonel Stickles's illness was a grievous thing tous, in that we had no one now to command the troopers. Ten of these werestill alive, and so well approved to us, that they could never fancyaught, whether for dinner or supper, without its being forth-coming. Ifthey wanted trout they should have it; if colloped venison, or broiledham, or salmon from Lynmouth and Trentisoe, or truffles from thewoodside, all these were at the warriors' service, until they lusted forsomething else. Even the wounded men ate nobly; all except poor Jeremy,who was forced to have a young elder shoot, with the pith drawn, for tofeed him. And once, when they wanted pickled loach (from my descriptionof it), I took up my boyish sport again, and pronged them a good jarful.Therefore, none of them could complain; and yet they were not satisfied;perhaps for want of complaining.

  Be that as it might, we knew that if they once resolved to go (as theymight do at any time, with only a corporal over them) all our house, andall our goods, ay, and our own precious lives, would and must be at themercy of embittered enemies. For now the Doones, having driven back, asevery one said, five hundred men--though not thirty had ever fought withthem--were in such feather all round the country, that nothing was toogood for them. Offerings poured in at the Doone gate, faster than Doonescould away with them, and the sympathy both of Devon and Somerset becamealmost oppressive. And perhaps this wealth of congratulation, and mutualgood feeling between plundered and victim, saved us from any piece ofspite; kindliness having won the day, and every one loving every one.

  But yet another cause arose, and this the strongest one of all, to provethe need of Stickles's aid, and calamity of his illness. And this cameto our knowledge first, without much time to think of it. For two menappeared at our gate one day, stripped to their shirts, and void ofhorses, and looking very sorrowful. Now having some fear of attack fromthe Doones, and scarce knowing what their tricks might be, we receivedthese strangers cautiously, desiring to know who they were before we letthem see all our premises.

  However, it soon became plain to us that although they might not behonest fellows, at any rate they were not Doones; and so we took themin, and fed, and left them to tell their business. And this they wereglad enough to do; as men who have been maltreated almost always are.And it was not for us to contradict them, lest our victuals should goamiss.

  These two very worthy fellows--nay, more than that by their own account,being downright martyrs--were come, for the public benefit, from theCourt of Chancery, sitting for everybody's good, and boldly redressingevil. This court has a power of scent unknown to the Common-lawpractitioners, and slowly yet surely tracks its game; even as the greatlumbering dogs, now introduced from Spain, and called by some people'pointers,' differ from the swift gaze-hound, who sees his prey and runshim down in the manner of the common lawyers. If a man's ill fate shoulddrive him to make a choice between these two, let him rather be chasedby the hounds of law, than tracked by the dogs of Equity.

  Now, as it fell in a v
ery black day (for all except the lawyers) HisMajesty's Court of Chancery, if that be what it called itself, gainedscent of poor Lorna's life, and of all that might be made of it. Whetherthrough that brave young lord who ran into such peril, or through anyof his friends, or whether through that deep old Counsellor, whose gamenone might penetrate; or through any disclosures of the Italian woman,or even of Jeremy himself; none just now could tell us; only this truthwas too clear--Chancery had heard of Lorna, and then had seen howrich she was; and never delaying in one thing, had opened mouth, andswallowed her.

  The Doones, with a share of that dry humour which was in themhereditary, had welcomed the two apparitors (if that be the proper namefor them) and led them kindly down the valley, and told them then toserve their writ. Misliking the look of things, these poor men began tofumble among their clothes; upon which the Doones cried, 'off with them!Let us see if your message he on your skins.' And with no more mannersthan that, they stripped, and lashed them out of the valley; onlybidding them come to us, if they wanted Lorna Doone; and to us they cameaccordingly. Neither were they sure at first but that we should treatthem so; for they had no knowledge of the west country, and thought itquite a godless place, wherein no writ was holy.

  We however comforted and cheered them so considerably, that, ingratitude, they showed their writs, to which they had stuck likeleeches. And these were twofold; one addressed to Mistress Lorna Doone,so called, and bidding her keep in readiness to travel whenever calledupon, and commit herself to nobody, except the accredited messengersof the right honourable Court; while the other was addressed to allsubjects of His Majesty, having custody of Lorna Doone, or any powerover her. And this last threatened and exhorted, and held out hopesof recompense, if she were rendered truly. My mother and I heldconsultation, over both these documents, with a mixture of some wrathand fear, and a fork of great sorrow to stir them. And now having JeremyStickles's leave, which he gave with a nod when I told him all, and atlast made him understand it, I laid bare to my mother as well whatI knew, as what I merely surmised, or guessed, concerning Lorna'sparentage. All this she received with great tears, and wonder, andfervent thanks to God, and still more fervent praise of her son, who hadnothing whatever to do with it. However, now the question was, how toact about these writs. And herein it was most unlucky that we could nothave Master Stickles, with his knowledge of the world, and especiallyof the law-courts, to advise us what to do, and to help in doing it. Andfirstly of the first I said, 'We have rogues to deal with; but try wenot to rogue them.'

  To this, in some measure, dear mother agreed, though she could not seethe justice of it, yet thought that it might be wiser, because of ourwant of practice. And then I said, 'Now we are bound to tell Lorna, andto serve her citation upon her, which these good fellows have given us.'

  'Then go, and do it thyself, my son,' mother replied with a mournfulsmile, misdoubting what the end might be. So I took the slip of brownparchment, and went to seek my darling.

  Lorna was in her favourite place, the little garden which she tendedwith such care and diligence. Seeing how the maiden loved it, and washappy there, I had laboured hard to fence it from the dangers of thewood. And here she had corrected me, with better taste, and sense ofpleasure, and the joys of musing. For I meant to shut out the brook, andbuild my fence inside of it; but Lorna said no; if we must have a fence,which could not but be injury, at any rate leave the stream inside,and a pleasant bank beyond it. And soon I perceived that she was right,though not so much as afterwards; for the fairest of all things in agarden, and in summer-time most useful, is a brook of crystal water;where a man may come and meditate, and the flowers may lean and seethemselves, and the rays of the sun are purfied. Now partly with her ownwhite hands, and partly with Gwenny's red ones, Lorna had made of thissunny spot a haven of beauty to dwell in. It was not only that colourslay in the harmony we would seek of them, neither was it the height ofplants, sloping to one another; nor even the delicate tone of foliagefollowing suit, and neighbouring. Even the breathing of the wind, softand gentle in and out, moving things that need not move, and passinglonger-stalked ones, even this was not enough among the flush offragrance, to tell a man the reason of his quiet satisfaction. But so itshall for ever be. As the river we float upon (with wine, and flowers,and music,) is nothing at the well-spring but a bubble without reason.

  Feeling many things, but thinking without much to guide me, over thegrass-plats laid between, I went up to Lorna. She in a shower of damaskroses, raised her eyes and looked at me. And even now, in those sweeteyes, so deep with loving-kindness, and soft maiden dreamings, thereseemed to be a slight unwilling, half confessed withdrawal; overcome bylove and duty, yet a painful thing to see.

  'Darling,' I said, 'are your spirits good? Are you strong enough to-day,to bear a tale of cruel sorrow; but which perhaps, when your tears areshed, will leave you all the happier?'

  'What can you mean?' she answered trembling, not having been vey strongof late, and now surprised at my manner; 'are you come to give me up,John?'

  'Not very likely,' I replied; 'neither do I hope such a thing wouldleave you all the happier. Oh, Lorna, if you can think that so quicklyas you seem to have done, now you have every prospect and strongtemptation to it. You are far, far above me in the world, and I have noright to claim you. Perhaps, when you have heard these tidings you willsay, "John Ridd, begone; your life and mine are parted."'

  'Will I?' cried Lorna, with all the brightness of her playful waysreturning: 'you very foolish and jealous John, how shall I punish youfor this? Am I to forsake every flower I have, and not even know thatthe world goes round, while I look up at you, the whole day long andsay, "John, I love, love, love you?"'

  During these words she leaned upon me, half in gay imitation of whatI had so often made her do, and half in depth of earnestness, as thethrice-repeated word grew stronger, and grew warmer, with and to herheart. And as she looked up at the finish, saying, 'you,' so musically,I was much inclined to clasp her round; but remembering who she was,forbore; at which she seemed surprised with me.

  'Mistress Lorna, I replied, with I know not what temptation, makinglittle of her caresses, though more than all my heart to me: 'MistressLorna, you must keep your rank and proper dignity. You must never lookat me with anything but pity now.'

  'I shall look at you with pity, John,' said Lorna, trying to laugh itoff, yet not knowing what to make of me, 'if you talk any more of thisnonsense, knowing me as you ought to do. I shall even begin to thinkthat you, and your friends, are weary of me, and of so long supportingme; and are only seeking cause to send me back to my old misery. If itbe so, I will go. My life matters little to any one.' Here the greatbright tears arose; but the maiden was too proud to sob.

  'Sweetest of all sweet loves,' I cried, for the sign of a tear defeatedme; 'what possibility could make me ever give up Lorna?'

  'Dearest of all dears,' she answered; 'if you dearly love me, whatpossibility could ever make me give you up, dear?'

  Upon that there was no more forbearing, but I kissed and clasped her,whether she were Countess, or whether Queen of England; mine she was, atleast in heart; and mine she should be wholly. And she being of the sameopinion, nothing was said between us.

  'Now, Lorna,' said I, as she hung on my arm, willing to trust meanywhere, 'come to your little plant-house, and hear my moving story.'

  'No story can move me much, dear,' she answered rather faintly, for anyexcitement stayed with her; 'since I know your strength of kindness,scarcely any tale can move me, unless it be of yourself, love; or of mypoor mother.'

  'It is of your poor mother, darling. Can you bear to hear it?' And yet Iwondered why she did not say as much of her father.

  'Yes, I can bear anything. But although I cannot see her, and have longforgotten, I could not bear to hear ill of her.'

  'There is no ill to hear, sweet child, except of evil done to her.Lorna, you are of an ill-starred race.'

  'Better that than a wicked race,' she answered with he
r usual quickness,leaping at conclusion 'tell me I am not a Doone, and I will--but Icannot love you more.'

  'You are not a Doone, my Lorna, for that, at least, I can answer; thoughI know not what your name is.'

  'And my father--your father--what I mean is--'

  'Your father and mine never met one another. Your father was killed byan accident in the Pyrenean mountains, and your mother by the Doones; orat least they caused her death, and carried you away from her.'

  All this, coming as in one breath upon the sensitive maiden, was morethan she could bear all at once; as any but a fool like me must ofcourse have known. She lay back on the garden bench, with her black hairshed on the oaken bark, while her colour went and came and only by that,and her quivering breath, could any one say that she lived and thought.And yet she pressed my hand with hers, that I might tell her all of it.