Lorna Doone: A Romance of Exmoor
was brighter to me than the brightest wit could be. “And now,” she
continued, “you bound me, John, with a very beautiful ring to you, and
when I dare not wear it, I carry it always on my heart. But I will bind
you to me, you dearest, with the very poorest and plainest thing that
ever you set eyes on. I could give you fifty fairer ones, but they would
not be honest; and I love you for your honesty, and nothing else of
course, John; so don't you be conceited. Look at it, what a queer
old thing! There are some ancient marks upon it, very grotesque and
wonderful; it looks like a cat in a tree almost, but never mind what it
looks like. This old ring must have been a giant's; therefore it will
fit you perhaps, you enormous John. It has been on the front of my old
glass necklace (which my grandfather found them taking away, and very
soon made them give back again) ever since I can remember; and long
before that, as some woman told me. Now you seem very greatly amazed;
pray what thinks my lord of it?”
“That is worth fifty of the pearl thing which I gave you, you darling;
and that I will not take it from you.”
“Then you will never take me, that is all. I will have nothing to do
with a gentleman”--
“No gentleman, dear--a yeoman.”
“Very well, a yeoman--nothing to do with a yeoman who will not accept my
love-gage. So, if you please, give it back again, and take your lovely
ring back.”
She looked at me in such a manner, half in earnest, half in jest, and
three times three in love, that in spite of all good resolutions, and
her own faint protest, I was forced to abandon all firm ideas, and kiss
her till she was quite ashamed, and her head hung on my bosom, with the
night of her hair shed over me. Then I placed the pearl ring back on the
soft elastic bend of the finger she held up to scold me; and on my own
smallest finger drew the heavy hoop she had given me. I considered this
with satisfaction, until my darling recovered herself; and then I began
very gravely about it, to keep her (if I could) from chiding me:--
“Mistress Lorna, this is not the ring of any giant. It is nothing more
nor less than a very ancient thumb-ring, such as once in my father's
time was ploughed up out of the ground in our farm, and sent to learned
doctors, who told us all about it, but kept the ring for their trouble.
I will accept it, my own one love; and it shall go to my grave with
me.” And so it shall, unless there be villains who would dare to rob the
dead.
Now I have spoken about this ring (though I scarcely meant to do so,
and would rather keep to myself things so very holy) because it holds an
important part in the history of my Lorna. I asked her where the glass
necklace was from which the ring was fastened, and which she had worn
in her childhood, and she answered that she hardly knew, but remembered
that her grandfather had begged her to give it up to him, when she was
ten years old or so, and had promised to keep it for her until she
could take care of it; at the same time giving her back the ring, and
fastening it from her pretty neck, and telling her to be proud of it.
And so she always had been, and now from her sweet breast she took it,
and it became John Ridd's delight.
All this, or at least great part of it, I told my mother truly,
according to my promise; and she was greatly pleased with Lorna for
having been so good to me, and for speaking so very sensibly; and then
she looked at the great gold ring, but could by no means interpret it.
Only she was quite certain, as indeed I myself was, that it must have
belonged to an ancient race of great consideration, and high rank,
in their time. Upon which I was for taking it off, lest it should be
degraded by a common farmer's finger. But mother said “No,” with tears
in her eyes; “if the common farmer had won the great lady of the ancient
race, what were rings and old-world trinkets, when compared to the
living jewel?” Being quite of her opinion in this, and loving the ring
(which had no gem in it) as the token of my priceless gem, I resolved to
wear it at any cost, except when I should be ploughing, or doing things
likely to break it; although I must own that it felt very queer (for I
never had throttled a finger before), and it looked very queer, for a
length of time, upon my great hard-working hand.
And before I got used to my ring, or people could think that it belonged
to me (plain and ungarnished though it was), and before I went to see
Lorna again, having failed to find any necessity, and remembering my
duty to mother, we all had something else to think of, not so pleasant,
and more puzzling.
CHAPTER XXXVI
JOHN RETURNS TO BUSINESS
Now November was upon us, and we had kept Allhallowmass, with roasting
of skewered apples (like so many shuttlecocks), and after that the day
of Fawkes, as became good Protestants, with merry bonfires and burned
batatas, and plenty of good feeding in honour of our religion; and then
while we were at wheat-sowing, another visitor arrived.
This was Master Jeremy Stickles, who had been a good friend to me (as
described before) in London, and had earned my mother's gratitude, so
far as ever he chose to have it. And he seemed inclined to have it all;
for he made our farm-house his headquarters, and kept us quite at his
beck and call, going out at any time of the evening, and coming back at
any time of the morning, and always expecting us to be ready, whether
with horse, or man, or maiden, or fire, or provisions. We knew that he
was employed somehow upon the service of the King, and had at different
stations certain troopers and orderlies quite at his disposal; also
we knew that he never went out, nor even slept in his bedroom, without
heavy firearms well loaded, and a sharp sword nigh his hand; and that
he held a great commission, under royal signet, requiring all good
subjects, all officers of whatever degree, and especially justices of
the peace, to aid him to the utmost, with person, beast, and chattel, or
to answer it at their peril.
Now Master Jeremy Stickles, of course, knowing well what women are,
durst not open to any of them the nature of his instructions. But, after
awhile, perceiving that I could be relied upon, and that it was a great
discomfort not to have me with him, he took me aside in a lonely place,
and told me nearly everything; having bound me first by oath, not to
impart to any one, without his own permission, until all was over.
But at this present time of writing, all is over long ago; ay and
forgotten too, I ween, except by those who suffered. Therefore may I
tell the whole without any breach of confidence. Master Stickles was
going forth upon his usual night journey, when he met me coming home,
and I said something half in jest, about his zeal and secrecy; upon
which he looked all round the yard, and led me to an open space in the
clover field adjoining.
“John,” he said, “you have some right to know the meaning of all this,
being trusted as you were by the Lord Chief Justice. But he found you
scarcely supple enough, neither gifted with due brains.”
“Thank God for that same,” I answered, while he tapped his head, to
signify his own much larger allowance. Then he made me bind myself,
which in an evil hour I did, to retain his secret; and after that he
went on solemnly, and with much importance,--
“There be some people fit to plot, and others to be plotted against,
and others to unravel plots, which is the highest gift of all. This last
hath fallen to my share, and a very thankless gift it is, although a
rare and choice one. Much of peril too attends it; daring courage and
great coolness are as needful for the work as ready wit and spotless
honour. Therefore His Majesty's advisers have chosen me for this high
task, and they could not have chosen a better man. Although you have
been in London, Jack, much longer than you wished it, you are wholly
ignorant, of course, in matters of state, and the public weal.”
“Well,” said I, “no doubt but I am, and all the better for me. Although
I heard a deal of them; for everybody was talking, and ready to come to
blows; if only it could be done without danger. But one said this, and
one said that; and they talked so much about Birminghams, and Tantivies,
and Whigs and Tories, and Protestant flails and such like, that I was
only too glad to have my glass and clink my spoon for answer.”
“Right, John, thou art right as usual. Let the King go his own gait. He
hath too many mistresses to be ever England's master. Nobody need fear
him, for he is not like his father: he will have his own way, 'tis true,
but without stopping other folk of theirs: and well he knows what women
are, for he never asks them questions. Now heard you much in London town
about the Duke of Monmouth?”
“Not so very much,” I answered; “not half so much as in Devonshire: only
that he was a hearty man, and a very handsome one, and now was banished
by the Tories; and most people wished he was coming back, instead of the
Duke of York, who was trying boots in Scotland.”
“Things are changed since you were in town. The Whigs are getting up
again, through the folly of the Tories killing poor Lord Russell; and
now this Master Sidney (if my Lord condemns him) will make it worse
again. There is much disaffection everywhere, and it must grow to an
outbreak. The King hath many troops in London, and meaneth to bring
more from Tangier; but he cannot command these country places; and the
trained bands cannot help him much, even if they would. Now, do you
understand me, John?”
“In truth, not I. I see not what Tangier hath to do with Exmoor; nor the
Duke of Monmouth with Jeremy Stickles.”
“Thou great clod, put it the other way. Jeremy Stickles may have much to
do about the Duke of Monmouth. The Whigs having failed of Exclusion, and
having been punished bitterly for the blood they shed, are ripe for any
violence. And the turn of the balance is now to them. See-saw is the
fashion of England always; and the Whigs will soon be the top-sawyers.”
“But,” said I, still more confused, “'The King is the top-sawyer,'
according to our proverb. How then can the Whigs be?”
“Thou art a hopeless ass, John. Better to sew with a chestnut than to
teach thee the constitution. Let it be so, let it be. I have seen a
boy of five years old more apt at politics than thou. Nay, look not
offended, lad. It is my fault for being over-deep to thee. I should have
considered thy intellect.”
“Nay, Master Jeremy, make no apologies. It is I that should excuse
myself; but, God knows, I have no politics.”
“Stick to that, my lad,” he answered; “so shalt thou die easier. Now,
in ten words (without parties, or trying thy poor brain too much), I am
here to watch the gathering of a secret plot, not so much against the
King as against the due succession.”
“Now I understand at last. But, Master Stickles, you might have said all
that an hour ago almost.”
“It would have been better, if I had, to thee,” he replied with much
compassion; “thy hat is nearly off thy head with the swelling of brain I
have given thee. Blows, blows, are thy business, Jack. There thou art in
thine element. And, haply, this business will bring thee plenty even
for thy great head to take. Now hearken to one who wishes thee well,
and plainly sees the end of it--stick thou to the winning side, and have
naught to do with the other one.”
“That,” said I, in great haste and hurry, “is the very thing I want
to do, if I only knew which was the winning side, for the sake of
Lorna--that is to say, for the sake of my dear mother and sisters, and
the farm.”
“Ha!” cried Jeremy Stickles, laughing at the redness of my face--“Lorna,
saidst thou; now what Lorna? Is it the name of a maiden, or a
light-o'-love?”