Lorna Doone: A Romance of Exmoor

by R. D. Blackmore

  CHAPTER XIX

  ANOTHER DANGEROUS INTERVIEW

  Although I left the Denes at once, having little heart for furtherquestions of the wise woman, and being afraid to visit her house underthe Devil's Cheese-ring (to which she kindly invited me), and althoughI ran most part of the way, it was very late for farm-house time upona Sunday evening before I was back at Plover's Barrows. My mother hadgreat desire to know all about the matter; but I could not reconcile itwith my respect so to frighten her. Therefore I tried to sleep it off,keeping my own counsel; and when that proved of no avail, I strove towork it away, it might be, by heavy outdoor labour, and weariness, andgood feeding. These indeed had some effect, and helped to pass a week ortwo, with more pain of hand than heart to me.

  But when the weather changed in earnest, and the frost was gone, andthe south-west wind blew softly, and the lambs were at play with thedaisies, it was more than I could do to keep from thought of Lorna.For now the fields were spread with growth, and the waters clad withsunshine, and light and shadow, step by step, wandered over the furzycleves. All the sides of the hilly wood were gathered in and out withgreen, silver-grey, or russet points, according to the several manner ofthe trees beginning. And if one stood beneath an elm, with any heart tolook at it, lo! all the ground was strewn with flakes (too small to knowtheir meaning), and all the sprays above were rasped and trembling witha redness. And so I stopped beneath the tree, and carved L.D. upon it,and wondered at the buds of thought that seemed to swell inside me.

  The upshot of it all was this, that as no Lorna came to me, except indreams or fancy, and as my life was not worth living without constantsign of her, forth I must again to find her, and say more than a man cantell. Therefore, without waiting longer for the moving of the spring,dressed I was in grand attire (so far as I had gotten it), and thinkingmy appearance good, although with doubts about it (being forced todress in the hay-tallat), round the corner of the wood-stack went I veryknowingly--for Lizzie's eyes were wondrous sharp--and then I was sure ofmeeting none who would care or dare to speak of me.

  It lay upon my conscience often that I had not made dear Annie secret tothis history; although in all things I could trust her, and she loved melike a lamb. Many and many a time I tried, and more than once began thething; but there came a dryness in my throat, and a knocking under theroof of my mouth, and a longing to put it off again, as perhaps might bethe wisest. And then I would remember too that I had no right to speakof Lorna as if she were common property.

  This time I longed to take my gun, and was half resolved to do so;because it seemed so hard a thing to be shot at and have no chance ofshooting; but when I came to remember the steepness and the slipperynature of the waterslide, there seemed but little likelihood of keepingdry the powder. Therefore I was armed with nothing but a good stoutholly staff, seasoned well for many a winter in our back-kitchenchimney.

  Although my heart was leaping high with the prospect of some adventure,and the fear of meeting Lorna, I could not but be gladdened by thesoftness of the weather, and the welcome way of everything. There wasthat power all round, that power and that goodness, which make us come,as it were, outside our bodily selves, to share them. Over and beside usbreathes the joy of hope and promise; under foot are troubles past; inthe distance bowering newness tempts us ever forward. We quicken withlargesse of life, and spring with vivid mystery.

  And, in good sooth, I had to spring, and no mystery about it, ere ever Igot to the top of the rift leading into Doone-glade. For the stream wasrushing down in strength, and raving at every corner; a mort of rainhaving fallen last night and no wind come to wipe it. However, I reachedthe head ere dark with more difficulty than danger, and sat in a placewhich comforted my back and legs desirably.

  Hereupon I grew so happy at being on dry land again, and come to lookfor Lorna, with pretty trees around me, that what did I do but fallasleep with the holly-stick in front of me, and my best coat sunk in abed of moss, with water and wood-sorrel. Mayhap I had not done so, noryet enjoyed the spring so much, if so be I had not taken three parts ofa gallon of cider at home, at Plover's Barrows, because of the lownessand sinking ever since I met Mother Melldrum.

  There was a little runnel going softly down beside me, falling from theupper rock by the means of moss and grass, as if it feared to make anoise, and had a mother sleeping. Now and then it seemed to stop, infear of its own dropping, and wait for some orders; and the blades ofgrass that straightened to it turned their points a little way, andoffered their allegiance to wind instead of water. Yet before theircarkled edges bent more than a driven saw, down the water came againwith heavy drops and pats of running, and bright anger at neglect.

  This was very pleasant to me, now and then, to gaze at, blinking as thewater blinked, and falling back to sleep again. Suddenly my sleep wasbroken by a shade cast over me; between me and the low sunlight LornaDoone was standing.

  'Master Ridd, are you mad?' she said, and took my hand to move me.

  'Not mad, but half asleep,' I answered, feigning not to notice her, thatso she might keep hold of me.

  'Come away, come away, if you care for life. The patrol will be heredirectly. Be quick, Master Ridd, let me hide thee.'

  'I will not stir a step,' said I, though being in the greatest frightthat might be well imagined,' unless you call me "John."'

  'Well, John, then--Master John Ridd, be quick, if you have any to carefor you.'

  'I have many that care for me,' I said, just to let her know; 'and Iwill follow you, Mistress Lorna, albeit without any hurry, unless therebe peril to more than me.'

  Without another word she led me, though with many timid glances towardsthe upper valley, to, and into, her little bower, where the inletthrough the rock was. I am almost sure that I spoke before (though Icannot now go seek for it, and my memory is but a worn-out tub) ofa certain deep and perilous pit, in which I was like to drown myselfthrough hurry and fright of boyhood. And even then I wondered greatly,and was vexed with Lorna for sending me in that heedless manner intosuch an entrance. But now it was clear that she had been right and thefault mine own entirely; for the entrance to the pit was only to befound by seeking it. Inside the niche of native stone, the plainestthing of all to see, at any rate by day light, was the stairway hewnfrom rock, and leading up the mountain, by means of which I had escaped,as before related. To the right side of this was the mouth of the pit,still looking very formidable; though Lorna laughed at my fear of it,for she drew her water thence. But on the left was a narrow crevice,very difficult to espy, and having a sweep of grey ivy laid, like aslouching beaver, over it. A man here coming from the brightness of theouter air, with eyes dazed by the twilight, would never think of seeingthis and following it to its meaning.

  Lorna raised the screen for me, but I had much ado to pass, on accountof bulk and stature. Instead of being proud of my size (as it seemed tome she ought to be) Lorna laughed so quietly that I was ready to knockmy head or elbows against anything, and say no more about it. However,I got through at last without a word of compliment, and broke into thepleasant room, the lone retreat of Lorna.

  The chamber was of unhewn rock, round, as near as might be, eighteenor twenty feet across, and gay with rich variety of fern and mossand lichen. The fern was in its winter still, or coiling for thespring-tide; but moss was in abundant life, some feathering, and somegobleted, and some with fringe of red to it. Overhead there was noceiling but the sky itself, flaked with little clouds of April whitelywandering over it. The floor was made of soft low grass, mixed with mossand primroses; and in a niche of shelter moved the delicate wood-sorrel.Here and there, around the sides, were 'chairs of living stone,' as someLatin writer says, whose name has quite escaped me; and in the midst atiny spring arose, with crystal beads in it, and a soft voice as ofa laughing dream, and dimples like a sleeping babe. Then, after goinground a little, with surprise of daylight, the water overwelled theedge, and softly went through lines of light to shadows and an untoldbourne.

  Whil
e I was gazing at all these things with wonder and some sadness,Lorna turned upon me lightly (as her manner was) and said,--

  'Where are the new-laid eggs, Master Ridd? Or hath blue hen ceasedlaying?'

  I did not altogether like the way in which she said it with a sort ofdialect, as if my speech could be laughed at.

  'Here be some,' I answered, speaking as if in spite of her. 'I wouldhave brought thee twice as many, but that I feared to crush them in thenarrow ways, Mistress Lorna.'

  And so I laid her out two dozen upon the moss of the rock-ledge,unwinding the wisp of hay from each as it came safe out of my pocket.Lorna looked with growing wonder, as I added one to one; and when Ihad placed them side by side, and bidden her now to tell them, to myamazement what did she do but burst into a flood of tears.

  'What have I done?' I asked, with shame, scarce daring even to lookat her, because her grief was not like Annie's--a thing that could becoaxed away, and left a joy in going--'oh, what have I done to vex youso?'

  'It is nothing done by you, Master Ridd,' she answered, very proudly, asif nought I did could matter; 'it is only something that comes upon mewith the scent of the pure true clover-hay. Moreover, you have been tookind; and I am not used to kindness.'

  Some sort of awkwardness was on me, at her words and weeping, as if Iwould like to say something, but feared to make things worse perhapsthan they were already. Therefore I abstained from speech, as I wouldin my own pain. And as it happened, this was the way to make her tell memore about it. Not that I was curious, beyond what pity urged me andthe strange affairs around her; and now I gazed upon the floor, lest Ishould seem to watch her; but none the less for that I knew all that shewas doing.

  Lorna went a little way, as if she would not think of me nor care forone so careless; and all my heart gave a sudden jump, to go like a madthing after her; until she turned of her own accord, and with a littlesigh came back to me. Her eyes were soft with trouble's shadow, andthe proud lift of her neck was gone, and beauty's vanity borne down bywoman's want of sustenance.

  'Master Ridd,' she said in the softest voice that ever flowed betweentwo lips, 'have I done aught to offend you?'

  Hereupon it went hard with me, not to catch her up and kiss her, in themanner in which she was looking; only it smote me suddenly that thiswould be a low advantage of her trust and helplessness. She seemed toknow what I would be at, and to doubt very greatly about it, whetheras a child of old she might permit the usage. All sorts of things wentthrough my head, as I made myself look away from her, for fear of beingtempted beyond what I could bear. And the upshot of it was that I said,within my heart and through it, 'John Ridd, be on thy very best mannerswith this lonely maiden.'

  Lorna liked me all the better for my good forbearance; because she didnot love me yet, and had not thought about it; at least so far as Iknew. And though her eyes were so beauteous, so very soft and kindly,there was (to my apprehension) some great power in them, as if she wouldnot have a thing, unless her judgment leaped with it.

  But now her judgment leaped with me, because I had behaved so well; andbeing of quick urgent nature--such as I delight in, for the changefrom mine own slowness--she, without any let or hindrance, sitting overagainst me, now raising and now dropping fringe over those sweeteyes that were the road-lights of her tongue, Lorna told me all abouteverything I wished to know, every little thing she knew, except indeedthat point of points, how Master Ridd stood with her.

  Although it wearied me no whit, it might be wearisome for folk whocannot look at Lorna, to hear the story all in speech, exactly as shetold it; therefore let me put it shortly, to the best of my remembrance.

  Nay, pardon me, whosoever thou art, for seeming fickle and rude to thee;I have tried to do as first proposed, to tell the tale in my own words,as of another's fortune. But, lo! I was beset at once with many heavyobstacles, which grew as I went onward, until I knew not where I was,and mingled past and present. And two of these difficulties only wereenough to stop me; the one that I must coldly speak without the force ofpity, the other that I, off and on, confused myself with Lorna, as mightbe well expected.

  Therefore let her tell the story, with her own sweet voice and manner;and if ye find it wearisome, seek in yourselves the weariness.