|
Prev
| Next
| Contents
CHAPTER XLIII
NOT TOO SOON
When I started on my road across the hills and valleys
(which now were pretty much alike), the utmost I could
hope to do was to gain the crest of hills, and look
into the Doone Glen. Hence I might at least descry
whether Lorna still was safe, by the six nests still
remaining, and the view of the Captain's house. When I
was come to the open country, far beyond the sheltered
homestead, and in the full brunt of the wind, the keen
blast of the cold broke on me, and the mighty breadth
of snow. Moor and highland, field and common, cliff
and vale, and watercourse, over all the rolling folds
of misty white were flung. There was nothing square or
jagged left, there was nothing perpendicular; all the
rugged lines were eased, and all the breaches smoothly
filled. Curves, and mounds, and rounded heavings, took
the place of rock and stump; and all the country looked
as if a woman's hand had been on it.
Through the sparkling breadth of white, which seemed to
glance my eyes away, and outside the humps of laden
trees, bowing their backs like a woodman, I contrived
to get along, half-sliding and half-walking, in places
where a plain-shodden man must have sunk, and waited
freezing till the thaw should come to him. For
although there had been such violent frost, every
night, upon the snow, the snow itself, having never
thawed, even for an hour, had never coated over. Hence
it was as soft and light as if all had fallen
yesterday. In places where no drift had been, but
rather off than on to them, three feet was the least of
depth; but where the wind had chased it round, or any
draught led like a funnel, or anything opposed it;
there you might very safely say that it ran up to
twenty feet, or thirty, or even fifty, and I believe
some times a hundred.
At last I got to my spy-hill (as I had begun to call
it), although I never should have known it but for what
it looked on. And even to know this last again
required all the eyes of love, soever sharp and
vigilant. For all the beautiful Glen Doone (shaped
from out the mountains, as if on purpose for the
Doones, and looking in the summer-time like a sharp cut
vase of green) now was besnowed half up the sides, and
at either end so, that it was more like the white
basins wherein we boil plum-puddings. Not a patch of
grass was there, not a black branch of a tree; all was
white; and the little river flowed beneath an arch of
snow; if it managed to flow at all.
Now this was a great surprise to me; not only because I
believed Glen Doone to be a place outside all frost,
but also because I thought perhaps that it was quite
impossible to be cold near Lorna. And now it struck me
all at once that perhaps her ewer was frozen (as mine
had been for the last three weeks, requiring embers
around it), and perhaps her window would not shut, any
more than mine would; and perhaps she wanted blankets.
This idea worked me up to such a chill of sympathy,
that seeing no Doones now about, and doubting if any
guns would go off, in this state of the weather, and
knowing that no man could catch me up (except with
shoes like mine), I even resolved to slide the cliffs,
and bravely go to Lorna.
It helped me much in this resolve, that the snow came
on again, thick enough to blind a man who had not spent
his time among it, as I had done now for days and days.
Therefore I took my neatsfoot oil, which now was
clogged like honey, and rubbed it hard into my
leg-joints, so far as I could reach them. And then I
set my back and elbows well against a snowdrift,
hanging far adown the cliff, and saying some of the
Lord's Prayer, threw myself on Providence. Before
there was time to think or dream, I landed very
beautifully upon a ridge of run-up snow in a quiet
corner. My good shoes, or boots, preserved me from
going far beneath it; though one of them was sadly
strained, where a grub had gnawed the ash, in the early
summer-time. Having set myself aright, and being in
good spirits, I made boldly across the valley (where
the snow was furrowed hard), being now afraid of
nobody.
If Lorna had looked out of the window she would not
have known me, with those boots upon my feet, and a
well-cleaned sheepskin over me, bearing my own (J.R.)
in red, just between my shoulders, but covered now in
snow-flakes. The house was partly drifted up, though
not so much as ours was; and I crossed the little
stream almost without knowing that it was under me. At
first, being pretty safe from interference from the
other huts, by virtue of the blinding snow and the
difficulty of walking, I examined all the windows; but
these were coated so with ice, like ferns and flowers
and dazzling stars, that no one could so much as guess
what might be inside of them. Moreover I was afraid of
prying narrowly into them, as it was not a proper thing
where a maiden might be; only I wanted to know just
this, whether she were there or not.
Taking nothing by this movement, I was forced, much
against my will, to venture to the door and knock, in a
hesitating manner, not being sure but what my answer
might be the mouth of a carbine. However it was not
so, for I heard a pattering of feet and a whispering
going on, and then a shrill voice through the keyhole,
asking, 'Who's there?'
'Only me, John Ridd,' I answered; upon which I heard a
little laughter, and a little sobbing, or something
that was like it; and then the door was opened about a
couple of inches, with a bar behind it still; and then
the little voice went on,--
'Put thy finger in, young man, with the old ring on it.
But mind thee, if it be the wrong one, thou shalt never
draw it back again.'
Laughing at Gwenny's mighty threat, I showed my finger
in the opening; upon which she let me in, and barred
the door again like lightning.
'What is the meaning of all this, Gwenny?' I asked, as
I slipped about on the floor, for I could not stand
there firmly with my great snow-shoes on.
'Maning enough, and bad maning too,' the Cornish girl
made answer. Us be shut in here, and starving, and
durstn't let anybody in upon us. I wish thou wer't
good to ate, young man: I could manage most of thee.'
I was so frightened by her eyes, full of wolfish
hunger, that I could only say 'Good God!' having never
seen the like before. Then drew I forth a large piece
of bread, which I had brought in case of accidents, and
placed it in her hands. She leaped at it, as a
starving dog leaps at sight of his supper, and she set
her teeth in it, and then withheld it from her lips,
with something very like an oath at her own vile
greediness; and then away round the corner with it, no
doubt for her young mistress. I meanwhile was
occupied, to the best of my ability, in taking my
snow-shoes off, yet wondering much within myself why
Lorna did not come to me.
But presently I knew the cause, for Gwenny called me,
and I ran, and found my darling quite unable to say so
much as, 'John, how are you?' Between the hunger and
the cold, and the excitement of my coming, she had
fainted away, and lay back on a chair, as white as the
snow around us. In betwixt her delicate lips, Gwenny
was thrusting with all her strength the hard brown
crust of the rye-bread, which she had snatched from me
so.
'Get water, or get snow,' I said; 'don't you know what
fainting is, you very stupid child?'
'Never heerd on it, in Cornwall,' she answered,
trusting still to the bread; 'be un the same as
bleeding?'
'It will be directly, if you go on squeezing away with
that crust so. Eat a piece: I have got some more.
Leave my darling now to me.'
Hearing that I had some more, the starving girl could
resist no longer, but tore it in two, and had swallowed
half before I had coaxed my Lorna back to sense, and
hope, and joy, and love.
'I never expected to see you again. I had made up my
mind to die, John; and to die without your knowing it.'
As I repelled this fearful thought in a manner highly
fortifying, the tender hue flowed back again into her
famished cheeks and lips, and a softer brilliance
glistened from the depth of her dark eyes. She gave me
one little shrunken hand, and I could not help a tear
for it.
'After all, Mistress Lorna,' I said, pretending to be
gay, for a smile might do her good; 'you do not love me
as Gwenny does; for she even wanted to eat me.'
'And shall, afore I have done, young man,' Gwenny
answered laughing; 'you come in here with they red
chakes, and make us think o' sirloin.'
'Eat up your bit of brown bread, Gwenny. It is not
good enough for your mistress. Bless her heart, I have
something here such as she never tasted the like of,
being in such appetite. Look here, Lorna; smell it
first. I have had it ever since Twelfth Day, and kept
it all the time for you. Annie made it. That is
enough to warrant it good cooking.'
And then I showed my great mince-pie in a bag of tissue
paper, and I told them how the mince-meat was made of
golden pippins finely shred, with the undercut of the
sirloin, and spice and fruit accordingly and far beyond
my knowledge. But Lorna would not touch a morsel until
she had thanked God for it, and given me the kindest
kiss, and put a piece in Gwenny's mouth.
I have eaten many things myself, with very great
enjoyment, and keen perception of their merits, and
some thanks to God for them. But I never did enjoy a
thing, that had found its way between my own lips,
half, or even a quarter as much as I now enjoyed
beholding Lorna, sitting proudly upwards (to show that
she was faint no more) entering into that mince-pie,
and moving all her pearls of teeth (inside her little
mouth-place) exactly as I told her. For I was afraid
lest she should be too fast in going through it, and
cause herself more damage so, than she got of
nourishment. But I had no need to fear at all, and
Lorna could not help laughing at me for thinking that
she had no self-control.
Some creatures require a deal of food (I myself among
the number), and some can do with a very little;
making, no doubt, the best of it. And I have often
noticed that the plumpest and most perfect women never
eat so hard and fast as the skinny and three-cornered
ones. These last be often ashamed of it, and eat most
when the men be absent. Hence it came to pass that
Lorna, being the loveliest of all maidens, had as much
as she could do to finish her own half of pie; whereas
Gwenny Carfax (though generous more than greedy), ate
up hers without winking, after finishing the brown
loaf; and then I begged to know the meaning of this
state of things.
'The meaning is sad enough,' said Lorna; 'and I see no
way out of it. We are both to be starved until I let
them do what they like with me.
'That is to say until you choose to marry Carver Doone,
and be slowly killed by him?'
'Slowly! No, John, quickly. I hate him so intensely,
that less than a week would kill me.'
'Not a doubt of that,' said Gwenny; 'oh, she hates him
nicely then; but not half so much as I do.'
I told them that this state of things could be endured
no longer, on which point they agreed with me, but saw
no means to help it. For even if Lorna could make up
her mind to come away with me and live at Plover's
Barrows farm, under my good mother's care, as I had
urged so often, behold the snow was all around us,
heaped as high as mountains, and how could any delicate
maiden ever get across it?
Then I spoke with a strange tingle upon both sides of
my heart, knowing that this undertaking was a serious
one for all, and might burn our farm down,--
'If I warrant to take you safe, and without much fright
or hardship, Lorna, will you come with me?'
'To be sure I will, dear,' said my beauty, with a smile
and a glance to follow it; 'I have small alternative,
to starve, or go with you, John.'
'Gwenny, have you courage for it? Will you come with
your young mistress?'
'Will I stay behind?' cried Gwenny, in a voice that
settled it. And so we began to arrange about it; and
I was much excited. It was useless now to leave it
longer; if it could be done at all, it could not be too
quickly done. It was the Counsellor who had ordered,
after all other schemes had failed, that his niece
should have no food until she would obey him. He had
strictly watched the house, taking turns with Carver,
to ensure that none came nigh it bearing food or
comfort. But this evening, they had thought it
needless to remain on guard; and it would have been
impossible, because themselves were busy offering high
festival to all the valley, in right of their own
commandership. And Gwenny said that nothing made her
so nearly mad with appetite as the account she received
from a woman of all the dishes preparing. Nevertheless
she had answered bravely,--
'Go and tell the Counsellor, and go and tell the
Carver, who sent you to spy upon us, that we shall have
a finer dish than any set before them.' And so in truth
they did, although so little dreaming it; for no Doone
that was ever born, however much of a Carver, might vie
with our Annie for mince-meat.
Now while we sat reflecting much, and talking a good
deal more, in spite of all the cold--for I never was in
a hurry to go, when I had Lorna with me--she said, in
her silvery voice, which always led me so along, as if
I were a slave to a beautiful bell,--
'Now, John, we are wasting time, dear. You have
praised my hair, till it curls with pride, and my eyes
till you cannot see them, even if they are brown
diamonds which I have heard for the fiftieth time at
least; though I never saw such a jewel. Don't you
think it is high time to put on your snow-shoes, John?'
'Certainly not,' I answered, 'till we have settled
something more. I was so cold when I came in; and now
I am as warm as a cricket. And so are you, you lively
soul; though you are not upon my hearth yet.'
'Remember, John,' said Lorna, nestling for a moment to
me; 'the severity of the weather makes a great
difference between us. And you must never take
advantage.'
'I quite understand all that, dear. And the harder it
freezes the better, while that understanding continues.
Now do try to be serious.'
'I try to be serious! And I have been trying fifty
times, and could not bring you to it, John! Although I
am sure the situation, as the Counsellor says at the
beginning of a speech, the situation, to say the least,
is serious enough for anything. Come, Gwenny, imitate
him.'
Gwenny was famed for her imitation of the Counsellor
making a speech; and she began to shake her hair, and
mount upon a footstool; but I really could not have
this, though even Lorna ordered it. The truth was that
my darling maiden was in such wild spirits, at seeing
me so unexpected, and at the prospect of release, and
of what she had never known, quiet life and happiness,
that like all warm and loving natures, she could scarce
control herself.
'Come to this frozen window, John, and see them light
the stack-fire. They will little know who looks at
them. Now be very good, John. You stay in that
corner, dear, and I will stand on this side; and try to
breathe yourself a peep-hole through the lovely spears
and banners. Oh, you don't know how to do it. I must
do it for you. Breathe three times, like that, and
that; and then you rub it with your fingers, before it
has time to freeze again.'
All this she did so beautifully, with her lips put up
like cherries, and her fingers bent half back, as only
girls can bend them, and her little waist thrown out
against the white of the snowed-up window, that I made
her do it three times over; and I stopped her every
time and let it freeze again, that so she might be the
longer. Now I knew that all her love was mine, every
bit as much as mine was hers; yet I must have her to
show it, dwelling upon every proof, lengthening out all
certainty. Perhaps the jealous heart is loath to own a
life worth twice its own. Be that as it may, I know
that we thawed the window nicely.
And then I saw, far down the stream (or rather down the
bed of it, for there was no stream visible), a little
form of fire arising, red, and dark, and flickering.
Presently it caught on something, and went upward
boldly; and then it struck into many forks, and then it
fell, and rose again.
'Do you know what all that is, John?' asked Lorna,
smiling cleverly at the manner of my staring.
'How on earth should I know? Papists burn Protestants
in the flesh; and Protestants burn Papists in effigy,
as we mock them. Lorna, are they going to burn any
one to-night?'
'No, you dear. I must rid you of these things. I see
that you are bigoted. The Doones are firing Dunkery
beacon, to celebrate their new captain.'
'But how could they bring it here through the snow? If
they have sledges, I can do nothing.'
'They brought it before the snow began. The moment
poor grandfather was gone, even before his funeral, the
young men, having none to check them, began at once
upon it. They had always borne a grudge against it;
not that it ever did them harm; but because it seemed
so insolent. "Can't a gentleman go home, without a
smoke behind him?" I have often heard them saying. And
though they have done it no serious harm, since they
threw the firemen on the fire, many, many years ago,
they have often promised to bring it here for their
candle; and now they have done it. Ah, now look! The
tar is kindled.'
Though Lorna took it so in joke, I looked upon it very
gravely, knowing that this heavy outrage to the
feelings of the neighbourhood would cause more stir
than a hundred sheep stolen, or a score of houses
sacked. Not of course that the beacon was of the
smallest use to any one, neither stopped anybody from
stealing, nay, rather it was like the parish knell,
which begins when all is over, and depresses all the
survivors; yet I knew that we valued it, and were
proud, and spoke of it as a mighty institution; and
even more than that, our vestry had voted, within the
last two years, seven shillings and six-pence to pay
for it, in proportion with other parishes. And one of
the men who attended to it, or at least who was paid
for doing so, was our Jem Slocombe's grandfather.
However, in spite of all my regrets, the fire went up
very merrily, blazing red and white and yellow, as it
leaped on different things. And the light danced on
the snow-drifts with a misty lilac hue. I was
astonished at its burning in such mighty depths of
snow; but Gwenny said that the wicked men had been
three days hard at work, clearing, as it were, a
cock-pit, for their fire to have its way. And now they
had a mighty pile, which must have covered five
land-yards square, heaped up to a goodly height, and
eager to take fire.
In this I saw great obstacle to what I wished to
manage. For when this pyramid should be kindled
thoroughly, and pouring light and blazes round, would
not all the valley be like a white room full of
candles? Thinking thus, I was half inclined to abide
my time for another night: and then my second thoughts
convinced me that I would be a fool in this. For lo,
what an opportunity! All the Doones would be drunk, of
course, in about three hours' time, and getting more
and more in drink as the night went on. As for the
fire, it must sink in about three hours or more, and
only cast uncertain shadows friendly to my purpose.
And then the outlaws must cower round it, as the cold
increased on them, helping the weight of the liquor;
and in their jollity any noise would be cheered as a
false alarm. Most of all, and which decided once for
all my action,--when these wild and reckless villains
should be hot with ardent spirits, what was door, or
wall, to stand betwixt them and my Lorna?
This thought quickened me so much that I touched my
darling reverently, and told her in a few short words
how I hoped to manage it.
'Sweetest, in two hours' time, I shall be again with
you. Keep the bar up, and have Gwenny ready to answer
any one. You are safe while they are dining, dear, and
drinking healths, and all that stuff; and before they
have done with that, I shall be again with you. Have
everything you care to take in a very little compass,
and Gwenny must have no baggage. I shall knock loud,
and then wait a little; and then knock twice, very
softly.'
With this I folded her in my arms; and she looked
frightened at me; not having perceived her danger; and
then I told Gwenny over again what I had told her
mistress: but she only nodded her head and said, 'Young
man, go and teach thy grandmother.'
Prev
| Next
| Contents
|
