Lorna Doone: A Romance of Exmoor
God! How long have they been there then?”
“They may have been there thirty years, my lord; and indeed they may
have been forty. Before the great war broke out they came, longer back
than I can remember.”
“Ay, long before thou wast born, John. Good, thou speakest plainly.
Woe betide a liar, whenso I get hold of him. Ye want me on the Western
Circuit; by God, and ye shall have me, when London traitors are spun and
swung. There is a family called De Whichehalse living very nigh thee,
John?”
This he said in a sudden manner, as if to take me off my guard, and
fixed his great thick eyes on me. And in truth I was much astonished.
“Yes, my lord, there is. At least, not so very far from us. Baron de
Whichehalse, of Ley Manor.”
“Baron, ha! of the Exchequer--eh, lad? And taketh dues instead of His
Majesty. Somewhat which halts there ought to come a little further, I
trow. It shall be seen to, as well as the witch which makes it so to
halt. Riotous knaves in West England, drunken outlaws, you shall dance,
if ever I play pipe for you. John Ridd, I will come to Oare parish, and
rout out the Oare of Babylon.”
“Although your worship is so learned,” I answered seeing that now he
was beginning to make things uneasy; “your worship, though being Chief
Justice, does little justice to us. We are downright good and loyal
folk; and I have not seen, since here I came to this great town of
London, any who may better us, or even come anigh us, in honesty, and
goodness, and duty to our neighbours. For we are very quiet folk, not
prating our own virtues--”
“Enough, good John, enough! Knowest thou not that modesty is the
maidenhood of virtue, lost even by her own approval? Now hast thou ever
heard or thought that De Whichehalse is in league with the Doones of
Bagworthy?”
Saying these words rather slowly, he skewered his great eyes into mine,
so that I could not think at all, neither look at him, nor yet away.
The idea was so new to me that it set my wits all wandering; and looking
into me, he saw that I was groping for the truth.
“John Ridd, thine eyes are enough for me. I see thou hast never dreamed
of it. Now hast thou ever seen a man whose name is Thomas Faggus?”
“Yes, sir, many and many a time. He is my own worthy cousin; and I fear
he that hath intentions”--here I stopped, having no right there to speak
about our Annie.
“Tom Faggus is a good man,” he said; and his great square face had a
smile which showed me he had met my cousin; “Master Faggus hath made
mistakes as to the title to property, as lawyers oftentimes may do; but
take him all for all, he is a thoroughly straightforward man; presents
his bill, and has it paid, and makes no charge for drawing it.
Nevertheless, we must tax his costs, as of any other solicitor.”
“To be sure, to be sure, my lord!” was all that I could say, not
understanding what all this meant.
“I fear he will come to the gallows,” said the Lord Chief Justice,
sinking his voice below the echoes; “tell him this from me, Jack. He
shall never be condemned before me; but I cannot be everywhere, and some
of our Justices may keep short memory of his dinners. Tell him to change
his name, turn parson, or do something else, to make it wrong to hang
him. Parson is the best thing, he hath such command of features, and he
might take his tithes on horseback. Now a few more things, John Ridd;
and for the present I have done with thee.”
All my heart leaped up at this, to get away from London so: and yet I
could hardly trust to it.
“Is there any sound round your way of disaffection to His Majesty, His
most gracious Majesty?”
“No, my lord: no sign whatever. We pray for him in church perhaps,
and we talk about him afterwards, hoping it may do him good, as it is
intended. But after that we have naught to say, not knowing much about
him--at least till I get home again.”
“That is as it should be, John. And the less you say the better. But I
have heard of things in Taunton, and even nearer to you in Dulverton,
and even nigher still upon Exmoor; things which are of the pillory
kind, and even more of the gallows. I see that you know naught of them.
Nevertheless, it will not be long before all England hears of them. Now,
John, I have taken a liking to thee, for never man told me the truth,
without fear or favour, more thoroughly and truly than thou hast done.
Keep thou clear of this, my son. It will come to nothing; yet many shall
swing high for it. Even I could not save thee, John Ridd, if thou wert
mixed in this affair. Keep from the Doones, keep from De Whichehalse,
keep from everything which leads beyond the sight of thy knowledge. I
meant to use thee as my tool; but I see thou art too honest and simple.
I will send a sharper down; but never let me find thee, John, either a
tool for the other side, or a tube for my words to pass through.”
Here the Lord Justice gave me such a glare that I wished myself well
rid of him, though thankful for his warnings; and seeing how he had
made upon me a long abiding mark of fear, he smiled again in a jocular
manner, and said,--
“Now, get thee gone, Jack. I shall remember thee; and I trow, thou
wilt'st not for many a day forget me.”
“My lord, I was never so glad to go; for the hay must be in, and the
ricks unthatched, and none of them can make spars like me, and two men
to twist every hay-rope, and mother thinking it all right, and listening
right and left to lies, and cheated at every pig she kills, and even the
skins of the sheep to go--”
“John Ridd, I thought none could come nigh your folk in honesty, and
goodness, and duty to their neighbours!”
“Sure enough, my lord; but by our folk, I mean ourselves, not the men
nor women neither--”
“That will do, John. Go thy way. Not men, nor women neither, are better
than they need be.”
I wished to set this matter right; but his worship would not hear me,
and only drove me out of court, saying that men were thieves and liars,
no more in one place than another, but all alike all over the world,
and women not far behind them. It was not for me to dispute this point
(though I was not yet persuaded of it), both because my lord was a
Judge, and must know more about it, and also that being a man myself I
might seem to be defending myself in an unbecoming manner. Therefore I
made a low bow, and went; in doubt as to which had the right of it.
But though he had so far dismissed me, I was not yet quite free to
go, inasmuch as I had not money enough to take me all the way to Oare,
unless indeed I should go afoot, and beg my sustenance by the way, which
seemed to be below me. Therefore I got my few clothes packed, and my few
debts paid, all ready to start in half an hour, if only they would give
me enough to set out upon the road with. For I doubted not, being young
and strong, that I could walk from London to Oare in ten days or in
twelve at most, which was not much longer than horse-work; only I had
been a fool, as you will say when you hear it. For after receiving from
Master Spank the amount of the bill which I had delivered--less indeed
by fifty shillings than the money my mother had given me, for I had
spent fifty shillings, and more, in seeing the town and treating people,
which I could not charge to His Majesty--I had first paid all my debts
thereout, which were not very many, and then supposing myself to be an
established creditor of the Treasury for my coming needs, and already
scenting the country air, and foreseeing the joy of my mother, what had
I done but spent half my balance, ay and more than three-quarters of it,
upon presents for mother, and Annie, and Lizzie, John Fry, and his wife,
and Betty Muxworthy, Bill Dadds, Jim Slocombe, and, in a word, half of
the rest of the people at Oare, including all the Snowe family, who must
have things good and handsome? And if I must while I am about it, hide
nothing from those who read me, I had actually bought for Lorna a thing
the price of which quite frightened me, till the shopkeeper said it was
nothing at all, and that no young man, with a lady to love him, could
dare to offer her rubbish, such as the Jew sold across the way. Now the
mere idea of beautiful Lorna ever loving me, which he talked about as
patly (though of course I never mentioned her) as if it were a settled
thing, and he knew all about it, that mere idea so drove me abroad,
that if he had asked three times as much, I could never have counted the
money.
Now in all this I was a fool of course--not for remembering my friends
and neighbours, which a man has a right to do, and indeed is bound to
do, when he comes from London--but for not being certified first what
cash I had to go on with. And to my great amazement, when I went with
another bill for the victuals of only three days more, and a week's
expense on the homeward road reckoned very narrowly, Master Spank not
only refused to grant me any interview, but sent me out a piece of blue
paper, looking like a butcher's ticket, and bearing these words and no
more, “John Ridd, go to the devil. He who will not when he may, when he
will, he shall have nay.” From this I concluded that I had lost favour
in the sight of Chief Justice Jeffreys. Perhaps because my evidence had
not proved of any value! perhaps because he meant to let the matter lie,
till cast on him.
Anyhow, it was a reason of much grief, and some anger to me, and very
great anxiety, disappointment, and suspense. For here was the time of
the hay gone past, and the harvest of small corn coming on, and the
trout now rising at the yellow Sally, and the blackbirds eating our
white-heart cherries (I was sure, though I could not see them), and who
was to do any good for mother, or stop her from weeping continually? And
more than this, what was become of Lorna? Perhaps she had cast me away
altogether, as a flouter and a changeling; perhaps she had drowned
herself in the black well; perhaps (and that was worst of all) she was
even married, child as she was, to that vile Carver Doone, if the Doones
ever cared about marrying! That last thought sent me down at once to
watch for Mr. Spank again, resolved that if I could catch him, spank him
I would to a pretty good tune, although sixteen in family.
However, there was no such thing as to find him; and the usher vowed
(having orders I doubt) that he was gone to the sea for the good of his
health, having sadly overworked himself; and that none but a poor devil
like himself, who never had handling of money, would stay in London this
foul, hot weather; which was likely to bring the plague with it. Here
was another new terror for me, who had heard of the plagues of London,
and the horrible things that happened; and so going back to my lodgings
at once, I opened my clothes and sought for spots, especially as being
so long at a hairy fellmonger's; but finding none, I fell down and
thanked God for that same, and vowed to start for Oare to-morrow, with
my carbine loaded, come weal come woe, come sun come shower; though all
the parish should laugh at me, for begging my way home again, after the
brave things said of my going, as if I had been the King's cousin.
But I was saved in some degree from this lowering of my pride, and what
mattered more, of mother's; for going to buy with my last crown-piece
(after all demands were paid) a little shot and powder, more needful on
the road almost than even shoes or victuals, at the corner of the street
I met my good friend Jeremy Stickles, newly come in search of me. I took
him back to my little room--mine at least till to-morrow morning--and
told him all my story, and how much I felt aggrieved by it. But he
surprised me very much, by showing no surprise at all.
“It is the way of the world, Jack. They have gotten all they can from