Lorna Doone: A Romance of Exmoor
of the summer's day, safe at Plover's Barrows. Mistress Benita was
delighted with the change from her dull hard life; and she made many
excellent observations, such as seem natural to a foreigner looking at
our country.
As luck would have it, the first who came to meet us at the gate was
Lorna, with nothing whatever upon her head (the weather being summerly)
but her beautiful hair shed round her; and wearing a sweet white frock
tucked in, and showing her figure perfectly. In her joy she ran straight
up to the cart; and then stopped and gazed at Benita. At one glance her
old nurse knew her: “Oh, the eyes, the eyes!” she cried, and was over
the rail of the cart in a moment, in spite of all her substance. Lorna,
on the other hand, looked at her with some doubt and wonder, as though
having right to know much about her, and yet unable to do so. But when
the foreign woman said something in Roman language, and flung new hay
from the cart upon her, as if in a romp of childhood, the young maid
cried, “Oh, Nita, Nita!” and fell upon her breast, and wept; and after
that looked round at us.
This being so, there could be no doubt as to the power of proving Lady
Lorna's birth, and rights, both by evidence and token. For though we had
not the necklace now--thanks to Annie's wisdom--we had the ring of heavy
gold, a very ancient relic, with which my maid (in her simple way) had
pledged herself to me. And Benita knew this ring as well as she knew her
own fingers, having heard a long history about it; and the effigy on it
of the wild cat was the bearing of the house of Lorne.
For though Lorna's father was a nobleman of high and goodly lineage, her
mother was of yet more ancient and renowned descent, being the last
in line direct from the great and kingly chiefs of Lorne. A wild and
headstrong race they were, and must have everything their own way. Hot
blood was ever among them, even of one household; and their sovereignty
(which more than once had defied the King of Scotland) waned and fell
among themselves, by continual quarrelling. And it was of a piece with
this, that the Doones (who were an offset, by the mother's side, holding
in co-partnership some large property, which had come by the spindle,
as we say) should fall out with the Earl of Lorne, the last but one of
that title.
The daughter of this nobleman had married Sir Ensor Doone; but this,
instead of healing matters, led to fiercer conflict. I never could quite
understand all the ins and outs of it; which none but a lawyer may go
through, and keep his head at the end of it. The motives of mankind are
plainer than the motions they produce. Especially when charity (such
as found among us) sits to judge the former, and is never weary of it;
while reason does not care to trace the latter complications, except for
fee or title.
Therefore it is enough to say, that knowing Lorna to be direct in
heirship to vast property, and bearing especial spite against the house
of which she was the last, the Doones had brought her up with full
intention of lawful marriage; and had carefully secluded her from the
wildest of their young gallants. Of course, if they had been next in
succession, the child would have gone down the waterfall, to save any
further trouble; but there was an intercepting branch of some honest
family; and they being outlaws, would have a poor chance (though the law
loves outlaws) against them. Only Lorna was of the stock; and Lorna they
must marry. And what a triumph against the old earl, for a cursed Doone
to succeed him!
As for their outlawry, great robberies, and grand murders, the veriest
child, nowadays, must know that money heals the whole of that. Even if
they had murdered people of a good position, it would only cost about
twice as much to prove their motives loyal. But they had never slain any
man above the rank of yeoman; and folk even said that my father was the
highest of their victims; for the death of Lorna's mother and brother
was never set to their account.
Pure pleasure it is to any man, to reflect upon all these things. How
truly we discern clear justice, and how well we deal it. If any poor
man steals a sheep, having ten children starving, and regarding it as
mountain game (as a rich man does a hare), to the gallows with him. If
a man of rank beats down a door, smites the owner upon the head, and
honours the wife with attention, it is a thing to be grateful for, and
to slouch smitten head the lower.
While we were full of all these things, and wondering what would happen
next, or what we ought ourselves to do, another very important matter
called for our attention. This was no less than Annie's marriage to the
Squire Faggus. We had tried to put it off again; for in spite of all
advantages, neither my mother nor myself had any real heart for it. Not
that we dwelled upon Tom's short-comings or rather perhaps his going too
far, at the time when he worked the road so. All that was covered by
the King's pardon, and universal respect of the neighbourhood. But our
scruple was this--and the more we talked the more it grew upon us--that
we both had great misgivings as to his future steadiness.
For it would be a thousand pities, we said, for a fine, well-grown, and
pretty maiden (such as our Annie was), useful too, in so many ways, and
lively, and warm-hearted, and mistress of 500 pounds, to throw herself
away on a man with a kind of a turn for drinking. If that last were even
hinted, Annie would be most indignant, and ask, with cheeks as red as
roses, who had ever seen Master Faggus any the worse for liquor indeed?
Her own opinion was, in truth, that he took a great deal too little,
after all his hard work, and hard riding, and coming over the hills to
be insulted! And if ever it lay in her power, and with no one to grudge
him his trumpery glass, she would see that poor Tom had the nourishment
which his cough and his lungs required.
His lungs being quite as sound as mine, this matter was out of all
argument; so mother and I looked at one another, as much as to say, “let
her go upstairs, she will cry and come down more reasonable.” And while
she was gone, we used to say the same thing over and over again; but
without perceiving a cure for it. And we almost always finished up with
the following reflection, which sometimes came from mother's lips, and
sometimes from my own: “Well, well, there is no telling. None can say
how a man may alter; when he takes to matrimony. But if we could only
make Annie promise to be a little firm with him!”
I fear that all this talk on our part only hurried matters forward,
Annie being more determined every time we pitied her. And at last Tom
Faggus came, and spoke as if he were on the King's road, with a pistol
at my head, and one at mother's. “No more fast and loose,” he cried.
“either one thing or the other. I love the maid, and she loves me; and
we will have one another, either with your leave, or without it. How
many more times am I to dance over these vile hills, and leave my
business, and get nothing more than a sigh or a kiss, and 'Tom, I must
wait for mother'? You are famous for being straightforward, you Ridds.
Just treat me as I would treat you now.”
I looked at my mother; for a glance from her would have sent Tom out of
the window; but she checked me with her hand, and said, “You have
some ground of complaint, sir; I will not deny it. Now I will be as
straight-forward with you, as even a Ridd is supposed to be. My son and
myself have all along disliked your marriage with Annie. Not for what
you have been so much, as for what we fear you will be. Have patience,
one moment, if you please. We do not fear your taking to the highway
life again; for that you are too clever, no doubt, now that you have
property. But we fear that you will take to drinking, and to squandering
money. There are many examples of this around us; and we know what the
fate of the wife is. It has been hard to tell you this, under our own
roof, and with our own--” Here mother hesitated.
“Spirits, and cider, and beer,” I broke in; “out with it, like a Ridd,
mother; as he will have all of it.”
“Spirits, and cider, and beer,” said mother very firmly after me; and
then she gave way and said, “You know, Tom, you are welcome to every
drop and more of it.”
Now Tom must have had a far sweeter temper than ever I could claim; for
I should have thrust my glass away, and never have taken another drop
in the house where such a check had met me. But instead of that, Master
Faggus replied, with a pleasant smile,--
“I know that I am welcome, good mother; and to prove it, I will have
some more.”
And thereupon be mixed himself another glass of hollands with lemon and
hot water, yet pouring it very delicately.
“Oh, I have been so miserable--take a little more, Tom,” said mother,
handing the bottle.
“Yes, take a little more,” I said; “you have mixed it over weak, Tom.”
“If ever there was a sober man,” cried Tom, complying with our request;
“if ever there was in Christendom a man of perfect sobriety, that man is
now before you. Shall we say to-morrow week, mother? It will suit your
washing day.”
“How very thoughtful you are, Tom! Now John would never have thought of
that, in spite of all his steadiness.”
“Certainly not,” I answered proudly; “when my time comes for Lorna, I
shall not study Betty Muxworthy.”
In this way the Squire got over us; and Farmer Nicholas Snowe was
sent for, to counsel with mother about the matter and to set his two
daughters sewing.
When the time for the wedding came, there was such a stir and commotion
as had never been known in the parish of Oare since my father's
marriage. For Annie's beauty and kindliness had made her the pride of
the neighbourhood; and the presents sent her, from all around, were
enough to stock a shop with. Master Stickles, who now could walk, and
who certainly owed his recovery, with the blessing of God, to Annie,
presented her with a mighty Bible, silver-clasped, and very handsome,
beating the parson's out and out, and for which he had sent to Taunton.
Even the common troopers, having tasted her cookery many times (to help
out their poor rations), clubbed together, and must have given at least
a week's pay apiece, to have turned out what they did for her. This was
no less than a silver pot, well-designed, but suited surely rather
to the bridegroom's taste than bride's. In a word, everybody gave her
things.
And now my Lorna came to me, with a spring of tears in appealing
eyes--for she was still somewhat childish, or rather, I should say, more
childish now than when she lived in misery--and she placed her little
hand in mine, and she was half afraid to speak, and dropped her eyes for
me to ask.
“What is it, little darling?” I asked, as I saw her breath come fast;
for the smallest emotion moved her form.
“You don't think, John, you don't think, dear, that you could lend me
any money?”
“All I have got,” I answered; “how much do you want, dear heart?”
“I have been calculating; and I fear that I cannot do any good with less
than ten pounds, John.”
Here she looked up at me, with horror at the grandeur of the sum, and
not knowing what I could think of it. But I kept my eyes from her.
“Ten pounds!” I said in my deepest voice, on purpose to have it out
in comfort, when she should be frightened; “what can you want with ten
pounds, child?”
“That is my concern,” said Lorna, plucking up her spirit at this: “when
a lady asks for a loan, no gentleman pries into the cause of her asking
it.”
“That may be as may be,” I answered in a judicial manner; “ten pounds,
or twenty, you shall have. But I must know the purport.”
“Then that you never shall know, John. I am very sorry for asking you.