Lorna Doone: A Romance of Exmoor
the harvest sits aside neglected.”
“Nay, Master Huckaback,” cried Sally Snowe, with a saucy toss of her
hair; “Mistress Ridd is too kind a great deal, in handing you over to
me. You take her; and I will fetch Annie to be my partner this evening.
I like dancing very much better with girls, for they never squeeze and
rumple one. Oh, it is so much nicer!”
“Have no fear for me, my dears,” our mother answered smiling: “Parson
Bowden promised to come back again; I expect him every minute; and he
intends to lead me off, and to bring a partner for Annie too, a very
pretty young gentleman. Now begin; and I will join you.”
There was no disobeying her, without rudeness; and indeed the girls'
feet were already jigging; and Lizzie giving herself wonderful airs with
a roll of learned music; and even while Annie was doing my collop,
her pretty round instep was arching itself, as I could see from the
parlour-door. So I took little Ruth, and I spun her around, as the sound
of the music came lively and ringing; and after us came all the rest
with much laughter, begging me not to jump over her; and anon my grave
partner began to smile sweetly, and look up at me with the brightest of
eyes, and drop me the prettiest curtseys; till I thought what a great
stupe I must have been to dream of putting her in the cheese-rack. But
one thing I could not at all understand; why mother, who used to do
all in her power to throw me across Sally Snowe, should now do the very
opposite; for she would not allow me one moment with Sally, not even to
cross in the dance, or whisper, or go anywhere near a corner (which as I
said, I intended to do, just by way of practice), while she kept me, all
the evening, as close as possible with Ruth Huckaback, and came up
and praised me so to Ruth, times and again, that I declare I was quite
ashamed. Although of course I knew that I deserved it all, but I could
not well say that.
Then Annie came sailing down the dance, with her beautiful hair flowing
round her; the lightest figure in all the room, and the sweetest, and
the loveliest. She was blushing, with her fair cheeks red beneath
her dear blue eyes, as she met my glance of surprise and grief at the
partner she was leaning on. It was Squire Marwood de Whichehalse. I
would sooner have seen her with Tom Faggus, as indeed I had expected,
when I heard of Parson Bowden. And to me it seemed that she had no
right to be dancing so with any other; and to this effect I contrived to
whisper; but she only said, “See to yourself, John. No, but let us both
enjoy ourselves. You are not dancing with Lorna, John. But you seem
uncommonly happy.”
“Tush,” I said; “could I flip about so, if I had my love with me?”
CHAPTER XXXI
JOHN FRY'S ERRAND
We kept up the dance very late that night, mother being in such
wonderful spirits, that she would not hear of our going to bed: while
she glanced from young Squire Marwood, very deep in his talk with our
Annie, to me and Ruth Huckaback who were beginning to be very pleasant
company. Alas, poor mother, so proud as she was, how little she dreamed
that her good schemes already were hopelessly going awry!
Being forced to be up before daylight next day, in order to begin right
early, I would not go to my bedroom that night for fear of disturbing my
mother, but determined to sleep in the tallat awhile, that place being
cool, and airy, and refreshing with the smell of sweet hay. Moreover,
after my dwelling in town, where I had felt like a horse on a lime-kiln,
I could not for a length of time have enough of country life. The mooing
of a calf was music, and the chuckle of a fowl was wit, and the snore of
the horses was news to me.
“Wult have thee own wai, I reckon,” said Betty, being cross with
sleepiness, for she had washed up everything; “slape in hog-pound, if
thee laikes, Jan.”
Letting her have the last word of it (as is the due of women) I stood in
the court, and wondered awhile at the glory of the harvest moon, and the
yellow world it shone upon. Then I saw, as sure as ever I was standing
there in the shadow of the stable, I saw a short wide figure glide
across the foot of the courtyard, between me and the six-barred gate.
Instead of running after it, as I should have done, I began to consider
who it could be, and what on earth was doing there, when all our people
were in bed, and the reapers gone home, or to the linhay close against
the wheatfield.
Having made up my mind at last, that it could be none of our
people--though not a dog was barking--and also that it must have been
either a girl or a woman, I ran down with all speed to learn what might
be the meaning of it. But I came too late to learn, through my own
hesitation, for this was the lower end of the courtyard, not the
approach from the parish highway, but the end of the sledd-way, across
the fields where the brook goes down to the Lynn stream, and where
Squire Faggus had saved the old drake. And of course the dry channel
of the brook, being scarcely any water now, afforded plenty of place to
hide, leading also to a little coppice, beyond our cabbage-garden, and
so further on to the parish highway.
I saw at once that it was vain to make any pursuit by moonlight; and
resolving to hold my own counsel about it (though puzzled not a
little) and to keep watch there another night, back I returned to the
tallatt-ladder, and slept without leaving off till morning.
Now many people may wish to know, as indeed I myself did very greatly,
what had brought Master Huckaback over from Dulverton, at that time of
year, when the clothing business was most active on account of harvest
wages, and when the new wheat was beginning to sample from the early
parts up the country (for he meddled as well in corn-dealing) and when
we could not attend to him properly by reason of our occupation. And
yet more surprising it seemed to me that he should have brought his
granddaughter also, instead of the troop of dragoons, without which
he had vowed he would never come here again. And how he had managed to
enter the house together with his granddaughter, and be sitting quite at
home in the parlour there, without any knowledge or even suspicion on
my part. That last question was easily solved, for mother herself had
admitted them by means of the little passage, during a chorus of the
harvest-song which might have drowned an earthquake: but as for his
meaning and motive, and apparent neglect of his business, none but
himself could interpret them; and as he did not see fit to do so, we
could not be rude enough to inquire.
He seemed in no hurry to take his departure, though his visit was so
inconvenient to us, as himself indeed must have noticed: and presently
Lizzie, who was the sharpest among us, said in my hearing that she
believed he had purposely timed his visit so that he might have liberty
to pursue his own object, whatsoever it were, without interruption
from us. Mother gazed hard upon Lizzie at this, having formed a very
different opinion; but Annie and myself agreed that it was worth looking
into.
Now how could we look into it, without watching Uncle Reuben, whenever
he went abroad, and trying to catch him in his speech, when he was
taking his ease at night. For, in spite of all the disgust with which
he had spoken of harvest wassailing, there was not a man coming into
our kitchen who liked it better than he did; only in a quiet way, and
without too many witnesses. Now to endeavour to get at the purpose of
any guest, even a treacherous one (which we had no right to think Uncle
Reuben) by means of observing him in his cups, is a thing which even the
lowest of people would regard with abhorrence. And to my mind it was not
clear whether it would be fair-play at all to follow a visitor even at a
distance from home and clear of our premises; except for the purpose of
fetching him back, and giving him more to go on with. Nevertheless we
could not but think, the times being wild and disjointed, that Uncle
Ben was not using fairly the part of a guest in our house, to make long
expeditions we knew not whither, and involve us in trouble we knew not
what.
For his mode was directly after breakfast to pray to the Lord a little
(which used not to be his practice), and then to go forth upon Dolly,
the which was our Annie's pony, very quiet and respectful, with a bag of
good victuals hung behind him, and two great cavalry pistols in front.
And he always wore his meanest clothes as if expecting to be robbed,
or to disarm the temptation thereto; and he never took his golden
chronometer neither his bag of money. So much the girls found out and
told me (for I was never at home myself by day); and they very craftily
spurred me on, having less noble ideas perhaps, to hit upon Uncle
Reuben's track, and follow, and see what became of him. For he never
returned until dark or more, just in time to be in before us, who were
coming home from the harvest. And then Dolly always seemed very weary,
and stained with a muck from beyond our parish.
But I refused to follow him, not only for the loss of a day's work to
myself, and at least half a day to the other men, but chiefly because I
could not think that it would be upright and manly. It was all very
well to creep warily into the valley of the Doones, and heed everything
around me, both because they were public enemies, and also because I
risked my life at every step I took there. But as to tracking a feeble
old man (however subtle he might be), a guest moreover of our own, and
a relative through my mother.--“Once for all,” I said, “it is below me,
and I won't do it.”
Thereupon, the girls, knowing my way, ceased to torment me about it: but
what was my astonishment the very next day to perceive that instead of
fourteen reapers, we were only thirteen left, directly our breakfast
was done with--or mowers rather I should say, for we were gone into the
barley now.
“Who has been and left his scythe?” I asked; “and here's a tin cup never
been handled!”
“Whoy, dudn't ee knaw, Maister Jan,” said Bill Dadds, looking at me
queerly, “as Jan Vry wur gane avore braxvass.”
“Oh, very well,” I answered, “John knows what he is doing.” For John
Fry was a kind of foreman now, and it would not do to say anything that
might lessen his authority. However, I made up my mind to rope him, when
I should catch him by himself, without peril to his dignity.
But when I came home in the evening, late and almost weary, there was no
Annie cooking my supper, nor Lizzie by the fire reading, nor even little
Ruth Huckaback watching the shadows and pondering. Upon this, I went to
the girls' room, not in the very best of tempers, and there I found all
three of them in the little place set apart for Annie, eagerly listening
to John Fry, who was telling some great adventure. John had a great jug
of ale beside him, and a horn well drained; and he clearly looked upon
himself as a hero, and the maids seemed to be of the same opinion.
“Well done, John,” my sister was saying, “capitally done, John Fry. How
very brave you have been, John. Now quick, let us hear the rest of it.”
“What does all this nonsense mean?” I said, in a voice which frightened
them, as I could see by the light of our own mutton candles: “John Fry,
you be off to your wife at once, or you shall have what I owe you now,
instead of to-morrow morning.”
John made no answer, but scratched his head, and looked at the maidens
to take his part.
“It is you that must be off, I think,” said Lizzie, looking straight at
me with all the impudence in the world; “what right have you to come in
here to the young ladies' room, without an invitation even?”
“Very well, Miss Lizzie, I suppose mother has some right here.” And with