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CHAPTER XXVIII
JOHN HAS HOPE OF LORNA
Much as I longed to know more about Lorna, and though
all my heart was yearning, I could not reconcile it yet
with my duty to mother and Annie, to leave them on the
following day, which happened to be a Sunday. For lo,
before breakfast was out of our mouths, there came all
the men of the farm, and their wives, and even the two
crow-boys, dressed as if going to Barnstaple fair, to
inquire how Master John was, and whether it was true
that the King had made him one of his body-guard; and
if so, what was to be done with the belt for the
championship of the West-Counties wrestling, which I
had held now for a year or more, and none were ready to
challenge it. Strange to say, this last point seemed
the most important of all to them; and none asked who
was to manage the farm, or answer for their wages; but
all asked who was to wear the belt.
To this I replied, after shaking hands twice over all
round with all of them, that I meant to wear the belt
myself, for the honour of Oare parish, so long as ever
God gave me strength and health to meet all-comers; for
I had never been asked to be body-guard, and if asked I
would never have done it. Some of them cried that the
King must be mazed, not to keep me for his protection,
in these violent times of Popery. I could have told
them that the King was not in the least afraid of
Papists, but on the contrary, very fond of them;
however, I held my tongue, remembering what Judge
Jeffreys bade me.
In church, the whole congregation, man, woman, and
child (except, indeed, the Snowe girls, who only looked
when I was not watching), turned on me with one accord,
and stared so steadfastly, to get some reflection of
the King from me, that they forgot the time to kneel
down and the parson was forced to speak to them. If I
coughed, or moved my book, or bowed, or even said
'Amen,' glances were exchanged which meant--'That he
hath learned in London town, and most likely from His
Majesty.'
However, all this went off in time, and people became
even angry with me for not being sharper (as they
said), or smarter, or a whit more fashionable, for all
the great company I had seen, and all the wondrous
things wasted upon me.
But though I may have been none the wiser by reason of
my stay in London, at any rate I was much the better in
virtue of coming home again. For now I had learned the
joy of quiet, and the gratitude for good things round
us, and the love we owe to others (even those who must
be kind), for their indulgence to us. All this, before
my journey, had been too much as a matter of course to
me; but having missed it now I knew that it was a gift,
and might be lost. Moreover, I had pined so much, in
the dust and heat of that great town, for trees, and
fields, and running waters, and the sounds of country
life, and the air of country winds, that never more
could I grow weary of those soft enjoyments; or at
least I thought so then.
To awake as the summer sun came slanting over the
hill-tops, with hope on every beam adance to the
laughter of the morning; to see the leaves across the
window ruffling on the fresh new air, and the tendrils
of the powdery vine turning from their beaded sleep.
Then the lustrous meadows far beyond the thatch of the
garden-wall, yet seen beneath the hanging scollops of
the walnut-tree, all awaking, dressed in pearl, all
amazed at their own glistening, like a maid at her own
ideas. Down them troop the lowing kine, walking each
with a step of character (even as men and women do),
yet all alike with toss of horns, and spread of udders
ready. From them without a word, we turn to the
farm-yard proper, seen on the right, and dryly strawed
from the petty rush of the pitch-paved runnel. Round
it stand the snug out-buildings, barn, corn-chamber,
cider-press, stables, with a blinker'd horse in every
doorway munching, while his driver tightens buckles,
whistles and looks down the lane, dallying to begin his
labour till the milkmaids be gone by. Here the cock
comes forth at last;--where has he been
lingering?--eggs may tell to-morrow--he claps his wings
and shouts 'cock-a-doodle'; and no other cock dare look
at him. Two or three go sidling off, waiting till
their spurs be grown; and then the crowd of partlets
comes, chattering how their lord has dreamed, and
crowed at two in the morning, and praying that the old
brown rat would only dare to face him. But while the
cock is crowing still, and the pullet world admiring
him, who comes up but the old turkey-cock, with all his
family round him. Then the geese at the lower end
begin to thrust their breasts out, and mum their
down-bits, and look at the gander and scream shrill joy
for the conflict; while the ducks in pond show nothing
but tail, in proof of their strict neutrality.
While yet we dread for the coming event, and the fight
which would jar on the morning, behold the grandmother
of sows, gruffly grunting right and left with muzzle
which no ring may tame (not being matrimonial), hulks
across between the two, moving all each side at once,
and then all of the other side as if she were chined
down the middle, and afraid of spilling the salt from
her. As this mighty view of lard hides each combatant
from the other, gladly each retires and boasts how he
would have slain his neighbour, but that old sow drove
the other away, and no wonder he was afraid of her,
after all the chicks she had eaten.
And so it goes on; and so the sun comes, stronger from
his drink of dew; and the cattle in the byres, and the
horses from the stable, and the men from cottage-door,
each has had his rest and food, all smell alike of hay
and straw, and every one must hie to work, be it drag,
or draw, or delve.
So thought I on the Monday morning; while my own work
lay before me, and I was plotting how to quit it, void
of harm to every one, and let my love have work a
little--hardest perhaps of all work, and yet as sure as
sunrise. I knew that my first day's task on the farm
would be strictly watched by every one, even by my
gentle mother, to see what I had learned in London.
But could I let still another day pass, for Lorna to
think me faithless?
I felt much inclined to tell dear mother all about
Lorna, and how I loved her, yet had no hope of winning
her. Often and often, I had longed to do this, and
have done with it. But the thought of my father's
terrible death, at the hands of the Doones, prevented
me. And it seemed to me foolish and mean to grieve
mother, without any chance of my suit ever speeding.
If once Lorna loved me, my mother should know it; and
it would be the greatest happiness to me to have no
concealment from her, though at first she was sure to
grieve terribly. But I saw no more chance of Lorna
loving me, than of the man in the moon coming down; or
rather of the moon coming down to the man, as related
in old mythology.
Now the merriment of the small birds, and the clear
voice of the waters, and the lowing of cattle in
meadows, and the view of no houses (except just our own
and a neighbour's), and the knowledge of everybody
around, their kindness of heart and simplicity, and
love of their neighbour's doings,--all these could not
help or please me at all, and many of them were much
against me, in my secret depth of longing and dark
tumult of the mind. Many people may think me foolish,
especially after coming from London, where many nice
maids looked at me (on account of my bulk and stature),
and I might have been fitted up with a sweetheart, in
spite of my west-country twang, and the smallness of my
purse; if only I had said the word. But nay; I have
contempt for a man whose heart is like a shirt-stud
(such as I saw in London cards), fitted into one
to-day, sitting bravely on the breast; plucked out on
the morrow morn, and the place that knew it, gone.
Now, what did I do but take my chance; reckless whether
any one heeded me or not, only craving Lorna's heed,
and time for ten words to her. Therefore I left the
men of the farm as far away as might be, after making
them work with me (which no man round our parts could
do, to his own satisfaction), and then knowing them to
be well weary, very unlike to follow me--and still more
unlike to tell of me, for each had his London
present--I strode right away, in good trust of my
speed, without any more misgivings; but resolved to
face the worst of it, and to try to be home for supper.
And first I went, I know not why, to the crest of the
broken highland, whence I had agreed to watch for any
mark or signal. And sure enough at last I saw (when
it was too late to see) that the white stone had been
covered over with a cloth or mantle,--the sign that
something had arisen to make Lorna want me. For a
moment I stood amazed at my evil fortune; that I should
be too late, in the very thing of all things on which
my heart was set! Then after eyeing sorrowfully every
crick and cranny to be sure that not a single flutter
of my love was visible, off I set, with small respect
either for my knees or neck, to make the round of the
outer cliffs, and come up my old access.
Nothing could stop me; it was not long, although to me
it seemed an age, before I stood in the niche of rock
at the head of the slippery watercourse, and gazed into
the quiet glen, where my foolish heart was dwelling.
Notwithstanding doubts of right, notwithstanding sense
of duty, and despite all manly striving, and the great
love of my home, there my heart was ever dwelling,
knowing what a fool it was, and content to know it.
Many birds came twittering round me in the gold of
August; many trees showed twinkling beauty, as the sun
went lower; and the lines of water fell, from wrinkles
into dimples. Little heeding, there I crouched; though
with sense of everything that afterwards should move
me, like a picture or a dream; and everything went by
me softly, while my heart was gazing.
At last, a little figure came, not insignificant (I
mean), but looking very light and slender in the moving
shadows, gently here and softly there, as if vague of
purpose, with a gloss of tender movement, in and out
the wealth of trees, and liberty of the meadow. Who
was I to crouch, or doubt, or look at her from a
distance; what matter if they killed me now, and one
tear came to bury me? Therefore I rushed out at once,
as if shot-guns were unknown yet; not from any real
courage, but from prisoned love burst forth.
I know not whether my own Lorna was afraid of what I
looked, or what I might say to her, or of her own
thoughts of me; all I know is that she looked
frightened, when I hoped for gladness. Perhaps the
power of my joy was more than maiden liked to own, or
in any way to answer to; and to tell the truth, it
seemed as if I might now forget myself; while she would
take good care of it. This makes a man grow
thoughtful; unless, as some low fellows do, he believe
all women hypocrites.
Therefore I went slowly towards her, taken back in my
impulse; and said all I could come to say, with some
distress in doing it.
'Mistress Lorna, I had hope that you were in need of
me.'
'Oh, yes; but that was long ago; two months ago, or
more, sir.' And saying this she looked away, as if it
all were over. But I was now so dazed and frightened,
that it took my breath away, and I could not answer,
feeling sure that I was robbed and some one else had
won her. And I tried to turn away, without another
word, and go.
But I could not help one stupid sob, though mad with
myself for allowing it, but it came too sharp for pride
to stay it, and it told a world of things. Lorna heard
it, and ran to me, with her bright eyes full of wonder,
pity, and great kindness, as if amazed that I had more
than a simple liking for her. Then she held out both
hands to me; and I took and looked at them.
'Master Ridd, I did not mean,' she whispered, very
softly, 'I did not mean to vex you.'
'If you would be loath to vex me, none else in this
world can do it,' I answered out of my great love, but
fearing yet to look at her, mine eyes not being strong
enough.
'Come away from this bright place,' she answered,
trembling in her turn; 'I am watched and spied of late.
Come beneath the shadows, John.'
I would have leaped into the valley of the shadow of
death (as described by the late John Bunyan), only to
hear her call me 'John'; though Apollyon were lurking
there, and Despair should lock me in.
She stole across the silent grass; but I strode hotly
after her; fear was all beyond me now, except the fear
of losing her. I could not but behold her manner, as
she went before me, all her grace, and lovely
sweetness, and her sense of what she was.
She led me to her own rich bower, which I told of once
before; and if in spring it were a sight, what was it
in summer glory? But although my mind had notice of
its fairness and its wonder, not a heed my heart took
of it, neither dwelt it in my presence more than
flowing water. All that in my presence dwelt, all that
in my heart was felt, was the maiden moving gently, and
afraid to look at me.
For now the power of my love was abiding on her, new to
her, unknown to her; not a thing to speak about, nor
even to think clearly; only just to feel and wonder,
with a pain of sweetness. She could look at me no
more, neither could she look away, with a studied
manner--only to let fall her eyes, and blush, and be
put out with me, and still more with herself.
I left her quite alone; though close, though tingling
to have hold of her. Even her right hand was dropped
and lay among the mosses. Neither did I try to steal
one glimpse below her eyelids. Life and death to me
were hanging on the first glance I should win; yet I
let it be so.
After long or short--I know not, yet ere I was weary,
ere I yet began to think or wish for any answer--Lorna
slowly raised her eyelids, with a gleam of dew below
them, and looked at me doubtfully. Any look with so
much in it never met my gaze before.
'Darling, do you love me?' was all that I could say to
her.
'Yes, I like you very much,' she answered, with her
eyes gone from me, and her dark hair falling over, so
as not to show me things.
'But do you love me, Lorna, Lorna; do you love me more
than all the world?'
'No, to be sure not. Now why should I?'
'In truth, I know not why you should. Only I hoped
that you did, Lorna. Either love me not at all, or as
I love you for ever.'
'John I love you very much; and I would not grieve you.
You are the bravest, and the kindest, and the simplest
of all men--I mean of all people--I like you very much,
Master Ridd, and I think of you almost every day.'
'That will not do for me, Lorna. Not almost every day
I think, but every instant of my life, of you. For you
I would give up my home, my love of all the world
beside, my duty to my dearest ones, for you I would
give up my life, and hope of life beyond it. Do you
love me so?'
'Not by any means,' said Lorna; 'no, I like you very
much, when you do not talk so wildly; and I like to see
you come as if you would fill our valley up, and I like
to think that even Carver would be nothing in your
hands--but as to liking you like that, what should make
it likely? especially when I have made the signal, and
for some two months or more you have never even
answered it! If you like me so ferociously, why do you
leave me for other people to do just as they like with
me?'
'To do as they liked! Oh, Lorna, not to make you marry
Carver?'
'No, Master Ridd, be not frightened so; it makes me
fear to look at you.'
'But you have not married Carver yet? Say quick! Why
keep me waiting so?'
'Of course I have not, Master Ridd. Should I be here
if I had, think you, and allowing you to like me so,
and to hold my hand, and make me laugh, as I declare
you almost do sometimes? And at other times you
frighten me.'
'Did they want you to marry Carver? Tell me all the
truth of it.'
'Not yet, not yet. They are not half so impetuous as
you are, John. I am only just seventeen, you know, and
who is to think of marrying? But they wanted me to
give my word, and be formally betrothed to him in the
presence of my grandfather. It seems that something
frightened them. There is a youth named Charleworth
Doone, every one calls him "Charlie"; a headstrong and
a gay young man, very gallant in his looks and manner;
and my uncle, the Counsellor, chose to fancy that
Charlie looked at me too much, coming by my
grandfather's cottage.'
Here Lorna blushed so that I was frightened, and began
to hate this Charlie more, a great deal more, than even
Carver Doone.
'He had better not,' said I; 'I will fling him over it,
if he dare. He shall see thee through the roof, Lorna,
if at all he see thee.'
'Master Ridd, you are worse than Carver! I thought you
were so kind-hearted. Well, they wanted me to promise,
and even to swear a solemn oath (a thing I have never
done in my life) that I would wed my eldest cousin,
this same Carver Doone, who is twice as old as I am,
being thirty-five and upwards. That was why I gave the
token that I wished to see you, Master Ridd. They
pointed out how much it was for the peace of all the
family, and for mine own benefit; but I would not
listen for a moment, though the Counsellor was most
eloquent, and my grandfather begged me to consider, and
Carver smiled his pleasantest, which is a truly
frightful thing. Then both he and his crafty father
were for using force with me; but Sir Ensor would not
hear of it; and they have put off that extreme until he
shall be past its knowledge, or, at least, beyond
preventing it. And now I am watched, and spied, and
followed, and half my little liberty seems to be taken
from me. I could not be here speaking with you, even
in my own nook and refuge, but for the aid, and skill,
and courage of dear little Gwenny Carfax. She is now
my chief reliance, and through her alone I hope to
baffle all my enemies, since others have forsaken me.'
Tears of sorrow and reproach were lurking in her soft
dark eyes, until in fewest words I told her that my
seeming negligence was nothing but my bitter loss and
wretched absence far away; of which I had so vainly
striven to give any tidings without danger to her.
When she heard all this, and saw what I had brought
from London (which was nothing less than a ring of
pearls with a sapphire in the midst of them, as pretty
as could well be found), she let the gentle tears flow
fast, and came and sat so close beside me, that I
trembled like a folded sheep at the bleating of her
lamb. But recovering comfort quickly, without more
ado, I raised her left hand and observed it with a nice
regard, wondering at the small blue veins, and curves,
and tapering whiteness, and the points it finished
with. My wonder seemed to please her much, herself so
well accustomed to it, and not fond of watching it.
And then, before she could say a word, or guess what I
was up to, as quick as ever I turned hand in a bout of
wrestling, on her finger was my ring--sapphire for the
veins of blue, and pearls to match white fingers.
'Oh, you crafty Master Ridd!' said Lorna, looking up at
me, and blushing now a far brighter blush than when she
spoke of Charlie; 'I thought that you were much too
simple ever to do this sort of thing. No wonder you
can catch the fish, as when first I saw you.'
'Have I caught you, little fish? Or must all my life
be spent in hopeless angling for you?'
'Neither one nor the other, John! You have not caught
me yet altogether, though I like you dearly John; and
if you will only keep away, I shall like you more and
more. As for hopeless angling, John--that all others
shall have until I tell you otherwise.'
With the large tears in her eyes--tears which seemed to
me to rise partly from her want to love me with the
power of my love--she put her pure bright lips, half
smiling, half prone to reply to tears, against my
forehead lined with trouble, doubt, and eager longing.
And then she drew my ring from off that snowy twig her
finger, and held it out to me; and then, seeing how my
face was falling, thrice she touched it with her lips,
and sweetly gave it back to me. 'John, I dare not take
it now; else I should be cheating you. I will try to
love you dearly, even as you deserve and wish. Keep it
for me just till then. Something tells me I shall earn
it in a very little time. Perhaps you will be sorry
then, sorry when it is all too late, to be loved by
such as I am.'
What could I do at her mournful tone, but kiss a
thousand times the hand which she put up to warn me,
and vow that I would rather die with one assurance of
her love, than without it live for ever with all beside
that the world could give? Upon this she looked so
lovely, with her dark eyelashes trembling, and her soft
eyes full of light, and the colour of clear sunrise
mounting on her cheeks and brow, that I was forced to
turn away, being overcome with beauty.
'Dearest darling, love of my life,' I whispered through
her clouds of hair; 'how long must I wait to know, how
long must I linger doubting whether you can ever stoop
from your birth and wondrous beauty to a poor, coarse
hind like me, an ignorant unlettered yeoman--'
'I will not have you revile yourself,' said Lorna, very
tenderly--just as I had meant to make her. 'You are
not rude and unlettered, John. You know a great deal
more than I do; you have learned both Greek and Latin,
as you told me long ago, and you have been at the very
best school in the West of England. None of us but my
grandfather, and the Counsellor (who is a great
scholar), can compare with you in this. And though I
have laughed at your manner of speech, I only laughed
in fun, John; I never meant to vex you by it, nor knew
that it had done so.'
'Naught you say can vex me, dear,' I answered, as she
leaned towards me in her generous sorrow; 'unless you
say "Begone, John Ridd; I love another more than you."'
'Then I shall never vex you, John. Never, I mean, by
saying that. Now, John, if you please, be quiet--'
For I was carried away so much by hearing her calling
me 'John' so often, and the music of her voice, and the
way she bent toward me, and the shadow of soft weeping
in the sunlight of her eyes, that some of my great hand
was creeping in a manner not to be imagined, and far
less explained, toward the lithesome, wholesome curving
underneath her mantle-fold, and out of sight and harm,
as I thought; not being her front waist. However, I
was dashed with that, and pretended not to mean it;
only to pluck some lady-fern, whose elegance did me no
good.
'Now, John,' said Lorna, being so quick that not even a
lover could cheat her, and observing my confusion more
intently than she need have done. 'Master John Ridd,
it is high time for you to go home to your mother. I
love your mother very much from what you have told me
about her, and I will not have her cheated.'
'If you truly love my mother,' said I, very craftily
'the only way to show it is by truly loving me.'
Upon that she laughed at me in the sweetest manner, and
with such provoking ways, and such come-and-go of
glances, and beginning of quick blushes, which she
tried to laugh away, that I knew, as well as if she
herself had told me, by some knowledge (void of
reasoning, and the surer for it), I knew quite well,
while all my heart was burning hot within me, and mine
eyes were shy of hers, and her eyes were shy of mine;
for certain and for ever this I knew--as in a
glory--that Lorna Doone had now begun and would go on
to love me.
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