Lorna Doone: A Romance of Exmoor
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 admit
that her form was becoming more perfect and lovely; though I had not
thought it possible. And another difficulty was, that as we had all
been Protestants from the time of Queen Elizabeth, the maiden must be
converted first, and taught to hate all Papists. Now Lorna had not the
smallest 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 I
wish to convert her? With this I was tolerably content, not seeing so
very much difference between a creed and a credo, and believing God to
be our Father, in Latin as well as English. Moreover, my darling knew
but little of the Popish ways--whether excellent or otherwise--inasmuch
as the Doones, though they stole their houses, or at least the joiner's
work, had never been tempted enough by the devil to steal either church
or chapel.
Lorna came to our little church, when Parson Bowden reappeared after the
snow was over; and she said that all was very nice, and very like what
she had seen in the time of her Aunt Sabina, when they went far away to
the little chapel, with a shilling in their gloves. It made the tears
come into her eyes, by the force of memory, when Parson Bowden did the
things, not so gracefully nor so well, yet with pleasant imitation of
her 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 I
wish 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 a
wheelbarrow, ay, and half the folk from Countisbury, Brendon, and even
Lynmouth, was and were to be found that Sunday, in our little church
of Oare. People who would not come anigh us, when the Doones were
threatening with carbine and with fire-brand, flocked in their very best
clothes, to see a lady Doone go to church. Now all this came of that
vile John Fry; I knew it as well as possible; his tongue was worse than
the 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 dignity
and gentleness; partly because she never dreamed that the people were
come to look at her. But when we came to the Psalms of the day, with
some vague sense of being stared at more than ought to be, she dropped
the heavy black lace fringing of the velvet hat she wore, and concealed
from the congregation all except her bright red lips, and the oval
snowdrift of her chin. I touched her hand, and she pressed mine; and we
felt 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 could
shoot flying), he scarcely knew what he was doing, without the clerk to
help him. He had borne it very well indeed, when I returned from London;
but to see a live Doone in his church, and a lady Doone, and a lovely
Doone, moreover one engaged to me, upon whom he almost looked as the
Squire of his parish (although not rightly an Armiger), and to feel that
this lovely Doone was a Papist, and therefore of higher religion--as all
our parsons think--and that she knew exactly how he ought to do all
the service, of which he himself knew little; I wish to express my firm
belief that all these things together turned Parson Bowden's head a
little, and made him look to me for orders.
My mother, the very best of women, was (as I could well perceive) a
little 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 upon
Exmoor, to the best of every one's knowledge. It came from a bird
called a flaming something--a flaming oh, or a flaming ah, I will not be
positive--but I can assure you that it did flame; and dear mother had no
other thought, but that all the congregation would neither see nor think
of any other mortal thing, or immortal even, to the very end of the
sermon.
Herein she was so disappointed, that no sooner did she get home, but
upstairs she went at speed, not even stopping at the mirror in our
little parlour, and flung the whole thing into a cupboard, as I knew by
the bang of the door, having eased the lock for her lately. Lorna saw
there was something wrong; and she looked at Annie and Lizzie (as more
likely to understand it) with her former timid glance; which I knew so
well, 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,' all
the morning. Never fear, darling Lorna, it is nothing about you. It is
something about our John, I am sure; for she never worries herself very
much about anybody but him.” And here Annie made a look at me, such as I
had had five hundred of.
“You keep your opinions to yourself,” I replied; because I knew the
dear, and her little bits of jealousy; “it happens that you are quite
wrong, this time. Lorna, come with me, my darling.”
“Oh yes, Lorna; go with him,” cried Lizzie, dropping her lip, in a way
which 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 were
alone; but without any unangelic attempt at snapping her sweet white
fingers.
These little things are enough to show that while every one so admired
Lorna, and so kindly took to her, still there would, just now and then,
be petty and paltry flashes of jealousy concerning her; and perhaps
it could not be otherwise among so many women. However, we were always
doubly kind to her afterwards; and although her mind was so sensitive
and quick that she must have suffered, she never allowed us to perceive
it, 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 the
more desirable, because she had left us through some offence, or sorrow,
about things said of her. Now my dear mother, being the kindest and
best-hearted of all women, could not bear that poor dear Ruth (who would
some day have such a fortune), should be entirely lost to us. “It is our
duty, my dear children,” she said more than once about it, “to forgive
and forget, as freely as we hope to have it done to us. If dear little
Ruth has not behaved quite as we might have expected, great allowance
should be made for a girl with so much money. Designing people get hold
of her, and flatter her, and coax her, to obtain a base influence over
her; so that when she falls among simple folk, who speak the honest
truth 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; and
I 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 the
purchase of the scarlet feathers of the flaming bird; and now that
the house was quite safe from attack, and the mark on my forehead was
healing, I was begged, over and over again, to go and see Ruth, and make
all things straight, and pay for the gorgeous plumage. This last I was
very desirous to do, that I might know the price of it, having made
a small bet on the subject with Annie; and having held counsel with
myself, whether or not it were possible to get something of the kind for
Lorna, of still more distinguished appearance. Of course she could not
wear scarlet as yet, even if I had wished it; but I believed that people
of fashion often wore purple for mourning; purple too was the royal
colour, and Lorna was by right a queen; therefore I was quite resolved
to 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 with
song, 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 to
tell, how the wheat was coming on. I reckon that you, who read this
story, 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 human
beings: and all we care for is human doings.” This may be very good
argument, and in the main, I believe that it is so. Nevertheless, if a
man is to tell only what he thought and did, and not what came around
him, he must not mention his own clothes, which his father and mother
bought for him. And more than my own clothes to me, ay, and as much as
my own skin, are the works of nature round about, whereof a man is the
smallest.
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 to
Shakespeare! but if once I begin upon that, you will never hear the last
of me--nevertheless, I will tell you this; not wishing to be rude, but
only just because I know it; the more a man can fling his arms (so
to say) round Nature's neck, the more he can upon her bosom, like an
infant, lie and suck,--the more that man shall earn the trust and love
of all his fellow men.
In this matter is no jealousy (when the man is dead); because thereafter
all 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. Even
as when we keep a roaster of the sucking-pigs, we choose, and praise at
table 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 the
vitals.
Now here am I upon Shakespeare (who died, of his own fruition, at the
age of fifty-two, yet lived more than fifty thousand men, within his
little span of life), when all the while I ought to be riding as hard as
I can to Dulverton. But, to tell the truth, I could not ride hard, being
held at every turn, and often without any turn at all, by the beauty
of things around me. These things grow upon a man if once he stops to
notice 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, only
that people in a town could not be expected to entertain (as we do in
farm-houses), having, moreover, keen expectation of Master Huckaback's
avarice, I had brought some stuff to eat, made by Annie, and packed by
Lorna, and requiring no thinking about it.
Ruth herself came and let me in, blushing very heartily; for which
colour I praised her health, and my praises heightened it. That little
thing had lovely eyes, and could be trusted thoroughly. I do like an
obstinate little woman, when she is sure that she is right. And indeed
if love had never sped me straight to the heart of Lorna (compared to
whom, Ruth was no more than the thief is to the candle), who knows but
what I might have yielded to the law of nature, that thorough trimmer of
balances, and verified the proverb that the giant loves the dwarf?