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CHAPTER XLVII
JEREMY IN DANGER
Nothing very long abides, as the greatest of all
writers (in whose extent I am for ever lost in raptured
wonder, and yet for ever quite at home, as if his heart
were mine, although his brains so different), in a word
as Mr. William Shakespeare, in every one of his works
insists, with a humoured melancholy. And if my journey
to London led to nothing else of advancement, it took
me a hundred years in front of what I might else have
been, by the most simple accident.
Two women were scolding one another across the road,
very violently, both from upstair windows; and I in my
hurry for quiet life, and not knowing what might come
down upon me, quickened my step for the nearest corner.
But suddenly something fell on my head; and at first I
was afraid to look, especially as it weighed heavily.
But hearing no breakage of ware, and only the other
scold laughing heartily, I turned me about and espied a
book, which one had cast at the other, hoping to break
her window. So I took the book, and tendered it at the
door of the house from which it had fallen; but the
watchman came along just then, and the man at the door
declared that it never came from their house, and
begged me to say no more. This I promised readily,
never wishing to make mischief; and I said, 'Good sir,
now take the book; I will go on to my business.' But he
answered that he would do no such thing; for the book
alone, being hurled so hard, would convict his people
of a lewd assault; and he begged me, if I would do a
good turn, to put the book under my coat and go. And
so I did: in part at least. For I did not put the book
under my coat, but went along with it openly, looking
for any to challenge it. Now this book, so acquired,
has been not only the joy of my younger days, and main
delight of my manhood, but also the comfort, and even
the hope, of my now declining years. In a word, it is
next to my Bible to me, and written in equal English;
and if you espy any goodness whatever in my own loose
style of writing, you must not thank me, John Ridd, for
it, but the writer who holds the champion's belt in
wit, as I once did in wrestling.
Now, as nothing very long abides, it cannot be expected
that a woman's anger should last very long, if she be
at all of the proper sort. And my mother, being one of
the very best, could not long retain her wrath against
the Squire Faggus especially when she came to reflect,
upon Annie's suggestion, how natural, and one might
say, how inevitable it was that a young man fond of
adventure and change and winning good profits by
jeopardy, should not settle down without some regrets
to a fixed abode and a life of sameness, however safe
and respectable. And even as Annie put the case, Tom
deserved the greater credit for vanquishing so nobly
these yearnings of his nature; and it seemed very hard
to upbraid him, considering how good his motives were;
neither could Annie understand how mother could
reconcile it with her knowledge of the Bible, and the
one sheep that was lost, and the hundredth piece of
silver, and the man that went down to Jericho.
Whether Annie's logic was good and sound, I am sure I
cannot tell; but it seemed to me that she ought to have
let the Jericho traveller alone, inasmuch as he rather
fell among Tom Fagusses, than resembled them. However,
her reasoning was too much for mother to hold out
against; and Tom was replaced, and more than that,
being regarded now as an injured man. But how my
mother contrived to know, that because she had been too
hard upon Tom, he must be right about the necklace, is
a point which I never could clearly perceive, though no
doubt she could explain it.
To prove herself right in the conclusion, she went
herself to fetch Lorna, that the trinket might be
examined, before the day grew dark. My darling came
in, with a very quick glance and smile at my cigarro
(for I was having the third by this time, to keep
things in amity); and I waved it towards her, as much
as to say, 'you see that I can do it.' And then mother
led her up to the light, for Tom to examine her
necklace.
On the shapely curve of her neck it hung, like dewdrops
upon a white hyacinth; and I was vexed that Tom should
have the chance to see it there. But even if she had
read my thoughts, or outrun them with her own, Lorna
turned away, and softly took the jewels from the place
which so much adorned them. And as she turned away,
they sparkled through the rich dark waves of hair.
Then she laid the glittering circlet in my mother's
hands; and Tom Faggus took it eagerly, and bore it to
the window.
'Don't you go out of sight,' I said; 'you cannot resist
such things as those, if they be what you think them.'
'Jack, I shall have to trounce thee yet. I am now a
man of honour, and entitled to the duello. What will
you take for it, Mistress Lorna? At a hazard, say
now.'
'I am not accustomed to sell things, sir,' replied
Lorna, who did not like him much, else she would have
answered sportively, 'What is it worth, in your
opinion?'
'Do you think it is worth five pounds, now?'
'Oh, no! I never had so much money as that in all my
life. It is very bright, and very pretty; but it
cannot be worth five pounds, I am sure.'
'What a chance for a bargain! Oh, if it were not for
Annie, I could make my fortune.'
'But, sir, I would not sell it to you, not for twenty
times five pounds. My grandfather was so kind about
it; and I think it belonged to my mother.'
'There are twenty-five rose diamonds in it, and
twenty-five large brilliants that cannot be matched in
London. How say you, Mistress Lorna, to a hundred
thousand pounds?'
My darling's eyes so flashed at this, brighter than any
diamonds, that I said to myself, 'Well, all have
faults; and now I have found out Lorna's--she is fond
of money!' And then I sighed rather heavily; for of all
faults this seems to me one of the worst in a woman.
But even before my sigh was finished, I had cause to
condemn myself. For Lorna took the necklace very
quietly from the hands of Squire Faggus, who had not
half done with admiring it, and she went up to my
mother with the sweetest smile I ever saw.
'Dear kind mother, I am so glad,' she said in a
whisper, coaxing mother out of sight of all but me;
'now you will have it, won't you, dear? And I shall be
so happy; for a thousandth part of your kindness to me
no jewels in the world can match.'
I cannot lay before you the grace with which she did
it, all the air of seeking favour, rather than
conferring it, and the high-bred fear of giving
offence, which is of all fears the noblest. Mother
knew not what to say. Of course she would never dream
of taking such a gift as that; and yet she saw how
sadly Lorna would be disappointed. Therefore, mother
did, from habit, what she almost always did, she called
me to help her. But knowing that my eyes were
full--for anything noble moves me so, quite as rashly
as things pitiful--I pretended not to hear my mother,
but to see a wild cat in the dairy.
Therefore I cannot tell what mother said in reply to
Lorna; for when I came back, quite eager to let my love
know how I worshipped her, and how deeply I was ashamed
of myself, for meanly wronging her in my heart, behold
Tom Faggus had gotten again the necklace which had such
charms for him, and was delivering all around (but
especially to Annie, who was wondering at his learning)
a dissertation on precious stones, and his sentiments
about those in his hand. He said that the work was
very ancient, but undoubtedly very good; the cutting of
every line was true, and every angle was in its place.
And this he said, made all the difference in the lustre
of the stone, and therefore in its value. For if the
facets were ill-matched, and the points of light so
ever little out of perfect harmony, all the lustre of
the jewel would be loose and wavering, and the central
fire dulled; instead of answering, as it should, to all
possibilities of gaze, and overpowering any eye intent
on its deeper mysteries. We laughed at the Squire's
dissertation; for how should he know all these things,
being nothing better, and indeed much worse than a mere
Northmolton blacksmith? He took our laughter with much
good nature; having Annie to squeeze his hand and
convey her grief at our ignorance: but he said that of
one thing he was quite certain, and therein I believed
him. To wit, that a trinket of this kind never could
have belonged to any ignoble family, but to one of the
very highest and most wealthy in England. And looking
at Lorna, I felt that she must have come from a higher
source than the very best of diamonds.
Tom Faggus said that the necklace was made, he would
answer for it, in Amsterdam, two or three hundred years
ago, long before London jewellers had begun to meddle
with diamonds; and on the gold clasp he found some
letters, done in some inverted way, the meaning of
which was beyond him; also a bearing of some kind,
which he believed was a mountain-cat. And thereupon he
declared that now he had earned another glass of
schnapps, and would Mistress Lorna mix it for him?
I was amazed at his impudence; and Annie, who thought
this her business, did not look best pleased; and I
hoped that Lorna would tell him at once to go and do it
for himself. But instead of that she rose to do it
with a soft humility, which went direct to the heart of
Tom; and he leaped up with a curse at himself, and took
the hot water from her, and would not allow her to do
anything except to put the sugar in; and then he bowed
to her grandly. I knew what Lorna was thinking of; she
was thinking all the time that her necklace had been
taken by the Doones with violence upon some great
robbery; and that Squire Faggus knew it, though he
would not show his knowledge; and that this was perhaps
the reason why mother had refused it so.
We said no more about the necklace for a long time
afterwards; neither did my darling wear it, now that
she knew its value, but did not know its history. She
came to me the very next day, trying to look cheerful,
and begged me if I loved her (never mind how little) to
take charge of it again, as I once had done before, and
not even to let her know in what place I stored it. I
told her that this last request I could not comply
with; for having been round her neck so often, it was
now a sacred thing, more than a million pounds could
be. Therefore it should dwell for the present in the
neighbourhood of my heart; and so could not be far from
her. At this she smiled her own sweet smile, and
touched my forehead with her lips. and wished that she
could only learn how to deserve such love as mine.
Tom Faggus took his good departure, which was a kind
farewell to me, on the very day I am speaking of, the
day after his arrival. Tom was a thoroughly upright
man, according to his own standard; and you might rely
upon him always, up to a certain point I mean, to be
there or thereabouts. But sometimes things were too
many for Tom, especially with ardent spirits, and then
he judged, perhaps too much, with only himself for the
jury. At any rate, I would trust him fully, for
candour and for honesty, in almost every case in which
he himself could have no interest. And so we got on
very well together; and he thought me a fool; and I
tried my best not to think anything worse of him.
Scarcely was Tom clean out of sight, and Annie's tears
not dry yet (for she always made a point of crying upon
his departure), when in came Master Jeremy Stickles,
splashed with mud from head to foot, and not in the
very best of humours, though happy to get back again.
'Curse those fellows!' he cried, with a stamp which
sent the water hissing from his boot upon the embers;
'a pretty plight you may call this, for His Majesty's
Commissioner to return to his headquarters in! Annie,
my dear,' for he was always very affable with Annie,
'will you help me off with my overalls, and then turn
your pretty hand to the gridiron? Not a blessed morsel
have I touched for more than twenty-four hours.'
'Surely then you must be quite starving, sir,' my
sister replied with the greatest zeal; for she did love
a man with an appetite; 'how glad I am that the fire is
clear!' But Lizzie, who happened to be there, said with
her peculiar smile,--
'Master Stickles must be used to it; for he never comes
back without telling us that.'
'Hush!' cried Annie, quite shocked with her; 'how would
you like to be used to it? Now, Betty, be quick with
the things for me. Pork, or mutton, or deer's meat,
sir? We have some cured since the autumn.'
'Oh, deer's meat, by all means,' Jeremy Stickles
answered; 'I have tasted none since I left you, though
dreaming of it often. Well, this is better than being
chased over the moors for one's life, John. All the
way from Landacre Bridge, I have ridden a race for my
precious life, at the peril of my limbs and neck.
Three great Doones galloping after me, and a good job
for me that they were so big, or they must have
overtaken me. Just go and see to my horse, John,
that's an excellent lad. He deserves a good turn this
day, from me; and I will render it to him.'
However he left me to do it, while he made himself
comfortable: and in truth the horse required care; he
was blown so that he could hardly stand, and plastered
with mud, and steaming so that the stable was quite
full with it. By the time I had put the poor fellow to
rights, his master had finished dinner, and was in a
more pleasant humour, having even offered to kiss
Annie, out of pure gratitude, as he said; but Annie
answered with spirit that gratitude must not be shown
by increasing the obligation. Jeremy made reply to
this that his only way to be grateful then was to tell
us his story: and so he did, at greater length than I
can here repeat it; for it does not bear particularly
upon Lorna's fortunes.
It appears that as he was riding towards us from the
town of Southmolton in Devonshire, he found the roads
very soft and heavy, and the floods out in all
directions; but met with no other difficulty until he
came to Landacre Bridge. He had only a single trooper
with him, a man not of the militia but of the King's
army, whom Jeremy had brought from Exeter. As these
two descended towards the bridge they observed that
both the Kensford water and the River Barle were
pouring down in mighty floods from the melting of the
snow. So great indeed was the torrent, after they
united, that only the parapets of the bridge could be
seen above the water, the road across either bank being
covered and very deep on the hither side. The trooper
did not like the look of it, and proposed to ride back
again, and round by way of Simonsbath, where the stream
is smaller. But Stickles would not have it so, and
dashing into the river, swam his horse for the bridge,
and gained it with some little trouble; and there he
found the water not more than up to his horse's knees
perhaps. On the crown of the bridge he turned his
horse to watch the trooper's passage, and to help him
with directions; when suddenly he saw him fall headlong
into the torrent, and heard the report of a gun from
behind, and felt a shock to his own body, such as
lifted him out of the saddle. Turning round he beheld
three men, risen up from behind the hedge on one side
of his onward road, two of them ready to load again,
and one with his gun unfired, waiting to get good aim
at him. Then Jeremy did a gallant thing, for which I
doubt whether I should have had the presence of mind in
danger. He saw that to swim his horse back again would
be almost certain death; as affording such a target,
where even a wound must be fatal. Therefore he struck
the spurs into the nag, and rode through the water
straight at the man who was pointing the long gun at
him. If the horse had been carried off his legs,
there must have been an end of Jeremy; for the other
men were getting ready to have another shot at him.
But luckily the horse galloped right on without any
need for swimming, being himself excited, no doubt, by
all he had seen and heard of it. And Jeremy lay almost
flat on his neck, so as to give little space for good
aim, with the mane tossing wildly in front of him. Now
if that young fellow with the gun had his brains as
ready as his flint was, he would have shot the horse at
once, and then had Stickles at his mercy; but instead
of that he let fly at the man, and missed him
altogether, being scared perhaps by the pistol which
Jeremy showed him the mouth of. And galloping by at
full speed, Master Stickles tried to leave his mark
behind him, for he changed the aim of his pistol to the
biggest man, who was loading his gun and cursing like
ten cannons. But the pistol missed fire, no doubt
from the flood which had gurgled in over the holsters;
and Jeremy seeing three horses tethered at a gate just
up the hill, knew that he had not yet escaped, but had
more of danger behind him. He tried his other great
pistol at one of the horses tethered there, so as to
lessen (if possible) the number of his pursuers. But
the powder again failed him; and he durst not stop to
cut the bridles, bearing the men coming up the hill.
So he even made the most of his start, thanking God
that his weight was light, compared at least to what
theirs was.
And another thing he had noticed which gave him some
hope of escaping, to wit that the horses of the Doones,
although very handsome animals, were suffering still
from the bitter effects of the late long frost, and the
scarcity of fodder. 'If they do not catch me up, or
shoot me, in the course of the first two miles, I may
see my home again'; this was what he said to himself as
he turned to mark what they were about, from the brow
of the steep hill. He saw the flooded valley shining
with the breadth of water, and the trooper's horse on
the other side, shaking his drenched flanks and
neighing; and half-way down the hill he saw the three
Doones mounting hastily. And then he knew that his
only chance lay in the stoutness of his steed.
The horse was in pretty good condition; and the rider
knew him thoroughly, and how to make the most of him;
and though they had travelled some miles that day
through very heavy ground, the bath in the river had
washed the mud off, and been some refreshment.
Therefore Stickles encouraged his nag, and put him into
a good hard gallop, heading away towards Withycombe.
At first he had thought of turning to the right, and
making off for Withypool, a mile or so down the valley;
but his good sense told him that no one there would
dare to protect him against the Doones, so he resolved
to go on his way; yet faster than he had intended.
The three villains came after him, with all the speed
they could muster, making sure from the badness of the
road that he must stick fast ere long, and so be at
their mercy. And this was Jeremy's chiefest fear, for
the ground being soft and thoroughly rotten, after so
much frost and snow, the poor horse had terrible work
of it, with no time to pick the way; and even more good
luck than skill was needed to keep him from foundering.
How Jeremy prayed for an Exmoor fog (such as he had
often sworn at), that he might turn aside and lurk,
while his pursuers went past him! But no fog came, nor
even a storm to damp the priming of their guns; neither
was wood or coppice nigh, nor any place to hide in;
only hills, and moor, and valleys; with flying shadows
over them, and great banks of snow in the corners. At
one time poor Stickles was quite in despair; for after
leaping a little brook which crosses the track at
Newland, be stuck fast in a 'dancing bog,' as we call
them upon Exmoor. The horse had broken through the
crust of moss and sedge and marishweed, and could do
nothing but wallow and sink, with the black water
spirting over him. And Jeremy, struggling with all his
might, saw the three villains now topping the crest,
less than a furlong behind him; and heard them shout in
their savage delight. With the calmness of despair, he
yet resolved to have one more try for it; and
scrambling over the horse's head, gained firm land, and
tugged at the bridle. The poor nag replied with all
his power to the call upon his courage, and reared his
forefeet out of the slough, and with straining eyeballs
gazed at him. 'Now,' said Jeremy, 'now, my fine
fellow!' lifting him with the bridle, and the brave
beast gathered the roll of his loins, and sprang from
his quagmired haunches. One more spring, and he was on
earth again, instead of being under it; and Jeremy
leaped on his back, and stooped, for he knew that they
would fire. Two bullets whistled over him, as the
horse, mad with fright, dashed forward; and in five
minutes more he had come to the Exe, and the pursuers
had fallen behind him. The Exe, though a much smaller
stream than the Barle, now ran in a foaming torrent,
unbridged, and too wide for leaping. But Jeremy's
horse took the water well; and both he and his rider
were lightened, as well as comforted by it. And as
they passed towards Lucott hill, and struck upon the
founts of Lynn, the horses of the three pursuers began
to tire under them. Then Jeremy Stickles knew that if
he could only escape the sloughs, he was safe for the
present; and so he stood up in his stirrups, and gave
them a loud halloo, as if they had been so many foxes.
Their only answer was to fire the remaining charge at
him; but the distance was too great for any aim from
horseback; and the dropping bullet idly ploughed the
sod upon one side of him. He acknowledged it with a
wave of his hat, and laid one thumb to his nose, in the
manner fashionable in London for expression of
contempt. However, they followed him yet farther;
hoping to make him pay out dearly, if he should only
miss the track, or fall upon morasses. But the
neighbourhood of our Lynn stream is not so very boggy;
and the King's messenger now knew his way as well as
any of his pursuers did; and so he arrived at Plover's
Barrows, thankful, and in rare appetite.
'But was the poor soldier drowned?' asked Annie; 'and
you never went to look for him! Oh, how very dreadful!'
'Shot, or drowned; I know not which. Thank God it was
only a trooper. But they shall pay for it, as dearly
as if it had been a captain.'
'And how was it you were struck by a bullet, and only
shaken in your saddle? Had you a coat of mail on, or
of Milanese chain-armour? Now, Master Stickles, had
you?'
'No, Mistress Lizzie; we do not wear things of that
kind nowadays. You are apt, I perceive, at romances.
But I happened to have a little flat bottle of the best
stoneware slung beneath my saddle-cloak, and filled
with the very best eau de vie, from the George Hotel,
at Southmolton. The brand of it now is upon my back.
Oh, the murderous scoundrels, what a brave spirit they
have spilled!'
'You had better set to and thank God,' said I, 'that
they have not spilled a braver one.'
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