CHAPTER XXXIV
TWO NEGATIVES MAKE AN AFFIRMATIVE
There was, however, no possibility of depressing me at such a time. Tobe loved by Lorna, the sweet, the pure, the playful one, the fairestcreature on God's earth and the most enchanting, the lady of high birthand mind; that I, a mere clumsy, blundering yeoman, without wit, orwealth, or lineage, should have won that loving heart to be my own forever, was a thought no fears could lessen, and no chance could stealfrom me.
Therefore at her own entreaty taking a very quick adieu, and by her owninvitation an exceeding kind one, I hurried home with deep exulting, yetsome sad misgivings, for Lorna had made me promise now to tell my mothereverything; as indeed I always meant to do, when my suit should be gonetoo far to stop. I knew, of course, that my dear mother would be greatlymoved and vexed, the heirship of Glen Doone not being a very desirabledower, but in spite of that, and all disappointment as to little RuthHuckaback, feeling my mother's tenderness and deep affection to me, andforgiving nature, I doubted not that before very long she would view thematter as I did. Moreover, I felt that if once I could get her only tolook at Lorna, she would so love and glory in her, that I should obtainall praise and thanks, perchance without deserving them.
Unluckily for my designs, who should be sitting down at breakfast withmy mother and the rest but Squire Faggus, as everybody now began toentitle him. I noticed something odd about him, something uncomfortablein his manner, and a lack of that ease and humour which had been wont todistinguish him. He took his breakfast as it came, without a singlejoke about it, or preference of this to that; but with sly soft looksat Annie, who seemed unable to sit quiet, or to look at any onesteadfastly. I feared in my heart what was coming on, and felt trulysorry for poor mother. After breakfast it became my duty to see to theploughing of a barley-stubble ready for the sowing of a French grass,and I asked Tom Faggus to come with me, but he refused, and I knew thereason. Being resolved to allow him fair field to himself, though withgreat displeasure that a man of such illegal repute should marry intoour family, which had always been counted so honest, I carried my dinnerupon my back, and spent the whole day with the furrows.
When I returned, Squire Faggus was gone; which appeared to me buta sorry sign, inasmuch as if mother had taken kindly to him and hisintentions, she would surely have made him remain awhile to celebratethe occasion. And presently no doubt was left: for Lizzie came runningto meet me, at the bottom of the woodrick, and cried,--
'Oh, John, there is such a business. Mother is in such a state of mind,and Annie crying her eyes out. What do you think? You would never guess,though I have suspected it, ever so long.'
'No need for me to guess,' I replied, as though with some indifference,because of her self-important air; 'I knew all about it long ago. Youhave not been crying much, I see. I should like you better if you had.'
'Why should I cry? I like Tom Faggus. He is the only one I ever see withthe spirit of a man.'
This was a cut, of course, at me. Mr. Faggus had won the goodwill ofLizzie by his hatred of the Doones, and vows that if he could get adozen men of any courage to join him, he would pull their strongholdabout their ears without any more ado. This malice of his seemed strangeto me, as he had never suffered at their hands, so far at least as Iknew; was it to be attributed to his jealousy of outlaws who excelledhim in his business? Not being good at repartee, I made no answer toLizzie, having found this course more irksome to her than the very bestinvective: and so we entered the house together; and mother sent at oncefor me, while I was trying to console my darling sister Annie.
'Oh, John! speak one good word for me,' she cried with both hands laidin mine, and her tearful eyes looking up at me.
'Not one, my pet, but a hundred,' I answered, kindly embracing her:'have no fear, little sister: I am going to make your case so bright, bycomparison, I mean, that mother will send for you in five minutes, andcall you her best, her most dutiful child, and praise Cousin Tom to theskies, and send a man on horseback after him; and then you will have aharder task to intercede for me, my dear.'
'Oh, John, dear John, you won't tell her about Lorna--oh, not to-day,dear.'
'Yes, to-day, and at once, Annie. I want to have it over, and be donewith it.'
'Oh, but think of her, dear. I am sure she could not bear it, after thisgreat shock already.'
'She will bear it all the better,' said I; 'the one will drive the otherout. I know exactly what mother is. She will be desperately savage firstwith you, and then with me, and then for a very little while with bothof us together; and then she will put one against the other (in her mindI mean) and consider which was most to blame; and in doing that she willbe compelled to find the best in either's case, that it may beat theother; and so as the pleas come before her mind, they will gain upon thecharges, both of us being her children, you know: and before very long(particularly if we both keep out of the way) she will begin to thinkthat after all she has been a little too hasty, and then she willremember how good we have always been to her; and how like our father.Upon that, she will think of her own love-time, and sigh a good bit,and cry a little, and then smile, and send for both of us, and beg ourpardon, and call us her two darlings.'
'Now, John, how on earth can you know all that?' exclaimed my sister,wiping her eyes, and gazing at me with a soft bright smile. 'Who onearth can have told you, John? People to call you stupid indeed! Why,I feel that all you say is quite true, because you describe so exactlywhat I should do myself; I mean--I mean if I had two children, who hadbehaved as we have done. But tell me, darling John, how you learned allthis.'
'Never you mind,' I replied, with a nod of some conceit, I fear: 'I mustbe a fool if I did not know what mother is by this time.'
Now inasmuch as the thing befell according to my prediction, what needfor me to dwell upon it, after saying how it would be? Moreover, I wouldregret to write down what mother said about Lorna, in her first surpriseand tribulation not only because I was grieved by the gross injusticeof it, and frightened mother with her own words (repeated deeply afterher); but rather because it is not well, when people repent of hastyspeech, to enter it against them.
That is said to be the angels' business; and I doubt if they can attendto it much, without doing injury to themselves.
However, by the afternoon, when the sun began to go down upon us, ourmother sat on the garden bench, with her head on my great otter-skinwaistcoat (which was waterproof), and her right arm round our Annie'swaist, and scarcely knowing which of us she ought to make the most of,or which deserved most pity. Not that she had forgiven yet the rivals toher love--Tom Faggus, I mean, and Lorna--but that she was beginning tothink a tattle better of them now, and a vast deal better of her ownchildren.
And it helped her much in this regard, that she was not thinking halfso well as usual of herself, or rather of her own judgment; for in goodtruth she had no self, only as it came home to her, by no very distantroad, but by way of her children. A better mother never lived; and canI, after searching all things, add another word to that?
And indeed poor Lizzie was not so very bad; but behaved (on the whole)very well for her. She was much to be pitied, poor thing, and greatallowances made for her, as belonging to a well-grown family, and a verycomely one; and feeling her own shortcomings. This made her leap to theother extreme, and reassert herself too much, endeavouring to exalt themind at the expense of the body; because she had the invisible one (sofar as can be decided) in better share than the visible. Not but whatshe had her points, and very comely points of body; lovely eyes to wit,and very beautiful hands and feet (almost as good as Lorna's), and aneck as white as snow; but Lizzie was not gifted with our gait and port,and bounding health.
Now, while we sat on the garden bench, under the great ash-tree, we leftdear mother to take her own way, and talk at her own pleasure. Childrenalmost always are more wide-awake than their parents. The fathers andthe mothers laugh; but the young ones have the best of them. And nowboth Annie knew, and I, that we had
gotten the best of mother; andtherefore we let her lay down the law, as if we had been two dollies.
'Darling John,' my mother said, 'your case is a very hard one. A youngand very romantic girl--God send that I be right in my charitableview of her--has met an equally simple boy, among great dangers anddifficulties, from which my son has saved her, at the risk of his lifeat every step. Of course, she became attached to him, and looked up tohim in every way, as a superior being'--
'Come now, mother,' I said; 'if you only saw Lorna, you would look uponme as the lowest dirt'--
'No doubt I should,' my mother answered; 'and the king and queen, andall the royal family. Well, this poor angel, having made up her mind totake compassion upon my son, when he had saved her life so many times,persuades him to marry her out of pure pity, and throw his poor motheroverboard. And the saddest part of it all is this--'
'That my mother will never, never, never understand the truth,' said I.
'That is all I wish,' she answered; 'just to get at the simple truthfrom my own perception of it. John, you are very wise in kissing me;but perhaps you would not be so wise in bringing Lorna for an afternoon,just to see what she thinks of me. There is a good saddle of mutton now;and there are some very good sausages left, on the blue dish with theanchor, Annie, from the last little sow we killed.'
'As if Lorna would eat sausages!' said I, with appearance of highcontempt, though rejoicing all the while that mother seemed to have hername so pat; and she pronounced it in a manner which made my heart leapto my ears: 'Lorna to eat sausages!'
'I don't see why she shouldn't,' my mother answered smiling, 'if shemeans to be a farmer's wife, she must take to farmer's ways, I think.What do you say, Annie?'
'She will eat whatever John desires, I should hope,' said Annie gravely;'particularly as I made them.'
'Oh that I could only get the chance of trying her!' I answered, 'if youcould once behold her, mother, you would never let her go again. And shewould love you with all her heart, she is so good and gentle.'
'That is a lucky thing for me'; saying this my mother wept, as she hadbeen doing off and on, when no one seemed to look at her; 'otherwise Isuppose, John, she would very soon turn me out of the farm, having youso completely under her thumb, as she seems to have. I see now that mytime is over. Lizzie and I will seek our fortunes. It is wiser so.'
'Now, mother,' I cried; 'will you have the kindness not to talk anynonsense? Everything belongs to you; and so, I hope, your children do.And you, in turn, belong to us; as you have proved ever since--oh, eversince we can remember. Why do you make Annie cry so? You ought to knowbetter than that.'
Mother upon this went over all the things she had done before; how manytimes I know not; neither does it matter. Only she seemed to enjoy itmore, every time of doing it. And then she said she was an old fool; andAnnie (like a thorough girl) pulled her one grey hair out.
Lorna Doone: A Romance of Exmoor Page 35