Lorna Doone: A Romance of Exmoor
sometimes), asserted and would swear to it (as I became more famous)
that John Ridd was of its own producing, bred of its own true blood, and
basely stolen by the other.
Now I have not judged it in any way needful or even becoming and
delicate, to enter into my wrestling adventures, or describe my
progress. The whole thing is so different from Lorna, and her gentle
manners, and her style of walking; moreover I must seem (even to kind
people) to magnify myself so much, or at least attempt to do it, that I
have scratched out written pages, through my better taste and sense.
Neither will I, upon this head, make any difference even now; being
simply betrayed into mentioning the matter because bare truth requires
it, in the tale of Lorna's fortunes.
For a mighty giant had arisen in a part of Cornwall: and his calf was
twenty-five inches round, and the breadth of his shoulders two feet
and a quarter; and his stature seven feet and three-quarters. Round the
chest he was seventy inches, and his hand a foot across, and there were
no scales strong enough to judge of his weight in the market-place. Now
this man--or I should say, his backers and his boasters, for the giant
himself was modest--sent me a brave and haughty challenge, to meet
him in the ring at Bodmin-town, on the first day of August, or else to
return my champion's belt to them by the messenger.
It is no use to deny but that I was greatly dashed and scared at first.
For my part, I was only, when measured without clothes on, sixty inches
round the breast, and round the calf scarce twenty-one, only two feet
across the shoulders, and in height not six and three-quarters. However,
my mother would never believe that this man could beat me; and Lorna
being of the same mind, I resolved to go and try him, as they would pay
all expenses and a hundred pounds, if I conquered him; so confident were
those Cornishmen.
Now this story is too well known for me to go through it again and
again. Every child in Devonshire knows, and his grandson will know, the
song which some clever man made of it, after I had treated him to water,
and to lemon, and a little sugar, and a drop of eau-de-vie. Enough that
I had found the giant quite as big as they had described him, and enough
to terrify any one. But trusting in my practice and study of the art, I
resolved to try a back with him; and when my arms were round him once,
the giant was but a farthingale put into the vice of a blacksmith. The
man had no bones; his frame sank in, and I was afraid of crushing him.
He lay on his back, and smiled at me; and I begged his pardon.
Now this affair made a noise at the time, and redounded so much to my
credit, that I was deeply grieved at it, because deserving none. For
I do like a good strife and struggle; and the doubt makes the joy of
victory; whereas in this case, I might as well have been sent for a
match with a hay-mow. However, I got my hundred pounds, and made up my
mind to spend every farthing in presents for mother and Lorna.
For Annie was married by this time, and long before I went away; as need
scarcely be said, perhaps; if any one follows the weeks and the months.
The wedding was quiet enough, except for everybody's good wishes; and I
desire not to dwell upon it, because it grieved me in many ways.
But now that I had tried to hope the very best for dear Annie, a deeper
blow than could have come, even through her, awaited me. For after that
visit to Cornwall, and with my prize-money about me, I came on foot
from Okehampton to Oare, so as to save a little sum towards my time of
marrying. For Lorna's fortune I would not have; small or great I would
not have it; only if there were no denying we would devote the whole of
it to charitable uses, as Master Peter Blundell had done; and perhaps
the future ages would endeavour to be grateful. Lorna and I had settled
this question at least twice a day, on the average; and each time with
more satisfaction.
Now coming into the kitchen with all my cash in my breeches pocket
(golden guineas, with an elephant on them, for the stamp of the Guinea
Company), I found dear mother most heartily glad to see me safe and
sound again--for she had dreaded that giant, and dreamed of him--and
she never asked me about the money. Lizzie also was softer, and more
gracious than usual; especially when she saw me pour guineas, like
peppercorns, into the pudding-basin. But by the way they hung about, I
knew that something was gone wrong.
“Where is Lorna?” I asked at length, after trying not to ask it; “I want
her to come, and see my money. She never saw so much before.”
“Alas!” said mother with a heavy sigh; “she will see a great deal more,
I fear; and a deal more than is good for her. Whether you ever see her
again will depend upon her nature, John.”
“What do you mean, mother? Have you quarrelled? Why does not Lorna come
to me? Am I never to know?”
“Now, John, be not so impatient,” my mother replied, quite calmly, for
in truth she was jealous of Lorna, “you could wait now, very well, John,
if it were till this day week, for the coming of your mother, John. And
yet your mother is your best friend. Who can ever fill her place?”
Thinking of her future absence, mother turned away and cried; and the
box-iron singed the blanket.
“Now,” said I, being wild by this time; “Lizzie, you have a little
sense; will you tell me where is Lorna?”
“The Lady Lorna Dugal,” said Lizzie, screwing up her lips as if the
title were too grand, “is gone to London, brother John; and not likely
to come back again. We must try to get on without her.”
“You little--[something]” I cried, which I dare not write down here,
as all you are too good for such language; but Lizzie's lip provoked me
so--“my Lorna gone, my Lorna gone! And without good-bye to me even! It
is your spite has sickened her.”
“You are quite mistaken there,” she replied; “how can folk of low degree
have either spite or liking towards the people so far above them? The
Lady Lorna Dugal is gone, because she could not help herself; and she
wept enough to break ten hearts--if hearts are ever broken, John.”
“Darling Lizzie, how good you are!” I cried, without noticing her sneer;
“tell me all about it, dear; tell me every word she said.”
“That will not take long,” said Lizzie, quite as unmoved by soft coaxing
as by urgent cursing; “the lady spoke very little to any one, except
indeed to mother, and to Gwenny Carfax; and Gwenny is gone with her, so
that the benefit of that is lost. But she left a letter for 'poor John,'
as in charity she called him. How grand she looked, to be sure, with the
fine clothes on that were come for her!”
“Where is the letter, you utter vixen! Oh, may you have a husband! Who
will thresh it out of you, and starve it, and swear it out of you!”
was the meaning of my imprecation: but Lizzie, not dreaming as yet of
such things, could not understand me, and was rather thankful; therefore
she answered quietly,--
“The letter is in the little cupboard, near the head of Lady Lorna's
bed, where she used to keep the diamond necklace, which we contrived to
get stolen.”
Without another word I rushed (so that every board in the house shook)
up to my lost Lorna's room, and tore the little wall-niche open and
espied my treasure. It was as simple, and as homely, and loving, as even
I could wish. Part of it ran as follows,--the other parts it behoves me
not to open out to strangers:--“My own love, and sometime lord,--Take it
not amiss of me, that even without farewell, I go; for I cannot persuade
the men to wait, your return being doubtful. My great-uncle, some grand
lord, is awaiting me at Dunster, having fear of venturing too near this
Exmoor country. I, who have been so lawless always, and the child of
outlaws, am now to atone for this, it seems, by living in a court of
law, and under special surveillance (as they call it, I believe) of
His Majesty's Court of Chancery. My uncle is appointed my guardian and
master; and I must live beneath his care, until I am twenty-one years
old. To me this appears a dreadful thing, and very unjust, and cruel;
for why should I lose my freedom, through heritage of land and gold? I
offered to abandon all if they would only let me go; I went down on my
knees to them, and said I wanted titles not, neither land, nor money;
only to stay where I was, where first I had known happiness. But they
only laughed and called me 'child,' and said I must talk of that to the
King's High Chancellor. Their orders they had, and must obey them; and
Master Stickles was ordered too, to help as the King's Commissioner. And
then, although it pierced my heart not to say one 'goodbye, John,' I
was glad upon the whole that you were not here to dispute it. For I am
almost certain that you would not, without force to yourself, have let
your Lorna go to people who never, never can care for her.”
Here my darling had wept again, by the tokens on the paper; and then
there followed some sweet words, too sweet for me to chatter them.
But she finished with these noble lines, which (being common to all
humanity, in a case of steadfast love) I do no harm, but rather help all
true love by repeating. “Of one thing rest you well assured--and I do
hope that it may prove of service to your rest, love, else would my own
be broken--no difference of rank, or fortune, or of life itself, shall
ever make me swerve from truth to you. We have passed through many
troubles, dangers, and dispartments, but never yet was doubt between us;
neither ever shall be. Each has trusted well the other; and still
each must do so. Though they tell you I am false, though your own mind
harbours it, from the sense of things around, and your own undervaluing,
yet take counsel of your heart, and cast such thoughts away from you;
being unworthy of itself they must be unworthy also of the one who
dwells there; and that one is, and ever shall be, your own Lorna Dugal.”
Some people cannot understand that tears should come from pleasure; but
whether from pleasure or from sorrow (mixed as they are in the twisted
strings of a man's heart, or a woman's), great tears fell from my stupid
eyes, even on the blots of Lorna's.
“No doubt it is all over,” my mind said to me bitterly; “trust me, all
shall yet be right,” my heart replied very sweetly.
CHAPTER LX
ANNIE LUCKIER THAN JOHN
Some people may look down upon us for our slavish ways (as they may
choose to call them), but in our part of the country, we do love to
mention title, and to roll it on our tongues, with a conscience and a
comfort. Even if a man knows not, through fault of education, who the
Duke of this is, or the Earl of that, it will never do for him to say
so, lest the room look down on him. Therefore he must nod his head,
and say, “Ah, to be sure! I know him as well as ever I know my own
good woman's brother. He married Lord Flipflap's second daughter, and a
precious life she led him.” Whereupon the room looks up at him. But
I, being quite unable to carry all this in my head, as I ought, was
speedily put down by people of a noble tendency, apt at Lords, and pat
with Dukes, and knowing more about the King than His Majesty would have
requested. Therefore, I fell back in thought, not daring in words to do
so, upon the titles of our horses. And all these horses deserved their
names, not having merely inherited, but by their own doing earned them.
Smiler, for instance, had been so called, not so much from a habit of
smiling, as from his general geniality, white nose, and white ankle.
This worthy horse was now in years, but hale and gay as ever; and when
you let him out of the stable, he could neigh and whinny, and make men
and horses know it. On the other hand, Kickums was a horse of morose