Lorna Doone: A Romance of Exmoor

by R. D. Blackmore

  CHAPTER LXXIV

  DRIVEN BEYOND ENDURANCE

  [Also known as BLOOD UPON THE ALTAR in other editions]

  Everything was settled smoothly, and without any fear or fuss, thatLorna might find end of troubles, and myself of eager waiting, withthe help of Parson Bowden, and the good wishes of two counties. I couldscarce believe my fortune, when I looked upon her beauty, gentleness,and sweetness, mingled with enough of humour and warm woman's feeling,never to be dull or tiring; never themselves to be weary.

  For she might be called a woman now; although a very young one, and asfull of playful ways, or perhaps I may say ten times as full, as if shehad known no trouble. To wit, the spirit of bright childhood, havingbeen so curbed and straitened, ere its time was over, now broke forth,enriched and varied with the garb of conscious maidenhood. And the senseof steadfast love, and eager love enfolding her, coloured with so manytinges all her looks, and words, and thoughts, that to me it was thenoblest vision even to think about her.

  But this was far too bright to last, without bitter break, and theplunging of happiness in horror, and of passionate joy in agony. Mydarling in her softest moments, when she was alone with me, when thespark of defiant eyes was veiled beneath dark lashes, and the challengeof gay beauty passed into sweetest invitation at such times of herpurest love and warmest faith in me, a deep abiding fear would flutterin her bounding heart, as of deadly fate's approach. She would cling tome, and nestle to me, being scared of coyishness, and lay one arm aroundmy neck, and ask if I could do without her.

  Hence, as all emotions haply, of those who are more to us thanourselves, find within us stronger echo, and more perfect answer, soI could not be regardless of some hidden evil; and my dark misgivingsdeepened as the time drew nearer. I kept a steadfast watch on Lorna,neglecting a field of beans entirely, as well as a litter of young pigs,and a cow somewhat given to jaundice. And I let Jem Slocombe go to sleepin the tallat, all one afternoon, and Bill Dadds draw off a bucket ofcider, without so much as a 'by your leave.' For these men knew that myknighthood, and my coat of arms, and (most of all) my love, were greatlyagainst good farming; the sense of our country being--and perhaps it maybe sensible--that a man who sticks up to be anything, must allow himselfto be cheated.

  But I never did stick up, nor would, though all the parish bade me; andI whistled the same tunes to my horses, and held my plough-tree, justthe same as if no King, nor Queen, had ever come to spoil my tune orhand. For this thing, nearly all the men around our parts upbraided me;but the women praised me: and for the most part these are right, whenthemselves are not concerned.

  However humble I might be, no one knowing anything of our part of thecountry, would for a moment doubt that now here was a great to do andtalk of John Ridd and his wedding. The fierce fight with the Doones solately, and my leading of the combat (though I fought not more than needbe), and the vanishing of Sir Counsellor, and the galloping madness ofCarver, and the religious fear of the women that this last was gone tohell--for he himself had declared that his aim, while he cut throughthe yeomanry--also their remorse, that he should have been made to gothither with all his children left behind--these things, I say (ifever I can again contrive to say anything), had led to the broadestexcitement about my wedding of Lorna. We heard that people meant to comefrom more than thirty miles around, upon excuse of seeing my stature andLorna's beauty; but in good truth out of sheer curiosity, and the loveof meddling.

  Our clerk had given notice, that not a man should come inside the doorof his church without shilling-fee; and women (as sure to see twice asmuch) must every one pay two shillings. I thought this wrong; and aschurch-warden, begged that the money might be paid into mine own hands,when taken. But the clerk said that was against all law; and he hadorders from the parson to pay it to him without any delay. So as Ialways obey the parson, when I care not much about a thing, I let themhave it their own way; though feeling inclined to believe, sometimes,that I ought to have some of the money.

  Dear mother arranged all the ins and outs of the way in which it wasto be done; and Annie and Lizzie, and all the Snowes, and even RuthHuckaback (who was there, after great persuasion), made such a sweepingof dresses that I scarcely knew where to place my feet, and longed for astaff, to put by their gowns. Then Lorna came out of a pew half-way, ina manner which quite astonished me, and took my left hand in her right,and I prayed God that it were done with.

  My darling looked so glorious, that I was afraid of glancing at her, yettook in all her beauty. She was in a fright, no doubt; but nobody shouldsee it; whereas I said (to myself at least), 'I will go through it likea grave-digger.'

  Lorna's dress was of pure white, clouded with faint lavender (for thesake of the old Earl Brandir), and as simple as need be, except forperfect loveliness. I was afraid to look at her, as I said before,except when each of us said, 'I will,' and then each dwelled upon theother.

  It is impossible for any who have not loved as I have to conceive my joyand pride, when after ring and all was done, and the parson had blessedus, Lorna turned to look at me with her glances of subtle fun subdued bythis great act.

  Her eyes, which none on earth may ever equal, or compare with, told mesuch a depth of comfort, yet awaiting further commune, that I was almostamazed, thoroughly as I knew them. Darling eyes, the sweetest eyes, theloveliest, the most loving eyes--the sound of a shot rang through thechurch, and those eyes were filled with death.

  Lorna fell across my knees when I was going to kiss her, as thebridegroom is allowed to do, and encouraged, if he needs it; a flood ofblood came out upon the yellow wood of the altar steps, and at my feetlay Lorna, trying to tell me some last message out of her faithful eyes.I lifted her up, and petted her, and coaxed her, but it was no good; theonly sign of life remaining was a spirt of bright red blood.

  Some men know what things befall them in the supreme time of theirlife--far above the time of death--but to me comes back as a hazy dream,without any knowledge in it, what I did, or felt, or thought, with mywife's arms flagging, flagging, around my neck, as I raised her up, andsoftly put them there. She sighed a long sigh on my breast, for her lastfarewell to life, and then she grew so cold, and cold, that I asked thetime of year.

  It was Whit-Tuesday, and the lilacs all in blossom; and why I thoughtof the time of year, with the young death in my arms, God or His angels,may decide, having so strangely given us. Enough that so I did, andlooked; and our white lilacs were beautiful. Then I laid my wife in mymother's arms, and begging that no one would make a noise, went forthfor my revenge.

  Of course, I knew who had done it. There was but one man in theworld, or at any rate, in our part of it, who could have done such athing--such a thing. I use no harsher word about it, while I leaped uponour best horse, with bridle but no saddle, and set the head of Kickumstowards the course now pointed out to me. Who showed me the course, Icannot tell. I only know that I took it. And the men fell back beforeme.

  Weapon of no sort had I. Unarmed, and wondering at my strange attire(with a bridal vest, wrought by our Annie, and red with the blood of thebride), I went forth just to find out this; whether in this world therebe or be not God of justice.

  With my vicious horse at a furious speed, I came upon Black Barrow Down,directed by some shout of men, which seemed to me but a whisper. Andthere, about a furlong before me, rode a man on a great black horse, andI knew that the man was Carver Doone.

  'Your life or mine,' I said to myself; 'as the will of God may be. Butwe two live not upon this earth, one more hour together.'

  I knew the strength of this great man; and I knew that he was armed witha gun--if he had time to load again, after shooting my Lorna--or at anyrate with pistols, and a horseman's sword as well. Nevertheless, I hadno more doubt of killing the man before me than a cook has of spitting aheadless fowl.

  Sometimes seeing no ground beneath me, and sometimes heeding every leaf,and the crossing of the grass-blades, I followed over the long moor,reckless whether seen or not. But only once t
he other man turned roundand looked back again, and then I was beside a rock, with a reedy swampbehind me.

  Although he was so far before me, and riding as hard as ride he might, Isaw that he had something on the horse in front of him; something whichneeded care, and stopped him from looking backward. In the whirling ofmy wits, I fancied first that this was Lorna; until the scene I had beenthrough fell across hot brain and heart, like the drop at the close ofa tragedy. Rushing there through crag and quag, at utmost speed of amaddened horse, I saw, as of another's fate, calmly (as on canvas laid),the brutal deed, the piteous anguish, and the cold despair.

  The man turned up the gully leading from the moor to Cloven Rocks,through which John Fry had tracked Uncle Ben, as of old related. But asCarver entered it, he turned round, and beheld me not a hundred yardsbehind; and I saw that he was bearing his child, little Ensie, beforehim. Ensie also descried me, and stretched his hands and cried to me;for the face of his father frightened him.

  Carver Doone, with a vile oath, thrust spurs into his flagging horse,and laid one hand on a pistol-stock; whence I knew that his slungcarbine had received no bullet since the one that had pierced Lorna. Anda cry of triumph rose from the black depths of my heart. What cared Ifor pistols? I had no spurs, neither was my horse one to need the rowel;I rather held him in than urged him, for he was fresh as ever; and Iknew that the black steed in front, if he breasted the steep ascent,where the track divided, must be in our reach at once.

  His rider knew this; and, having no room in the rocky channel to turnand fire, drew rein at the crossways sharply, and plunged into the blackravine leading to the Wizard's Slough. 'Is it so?' I said to myselfwith a brain and head cold as iron 'though the foul fiend come from theslough, to save thee; thou shalt carve it, Carver.'

  I followed my enemy carefully, steadily, even leisurely; for I had him,as in a pitfall, whence no escape might be. He thought that I feared toapproach him, for he knew not where he was: and his low disdainful laughcame back. 'Laugh he who wins,' thought I.

  A gnarled and half-starved oak, as stubborn as my own resolve, andsmitten by some storm of old, hung from the crag above me. Rising frommy horse's back, although I had no stirrups, I caught a limb, and toreit (like a mere wheat-awn) from the socket. Men show the rent even now,with wonder; none with more wonder than myself.

  Carver Doone turned the corner suddenly on the black and bottomless bog;with a start of fear he reined back his horse, and I thought he wouldhave turned upon me. But instead of that, he again rode on hoping tofind a way round the side.

  Now there is a way between cliff and slough for those who know theground thoroughly, or have time enough to search it; but for him therewas no road, and he lost some time in seeking it. Upon this he made uphis mind; and wheeling, fired, and then rode at me.

  His bullet struck me somewhere, but I took no heed of that. Fearing onlyhis escape, I laid my horse across the way, and with the limb of theoak struck full on the forehead his charging steed. Ere the slash of thesword came nigh me, man and horse rolled over, and wellnigh bore my ownhorse down, with the power of their onset.

  Carver Doone was somewhat stunned, and could not arise for a moment.Meanwhile I leaped on the ground and awaited, smoothing my hair back,and baring my arms, as though in the ring for wrestling. Then the littleboy ran to me, clasped my leg, and looked up at me, and the terror inhis eyes made me almost fear myself.

  'Ensie, dear,' I said quite gently, grieving that he should see hiswicked father killed, 'run up yonder round the corner and try to finda pretty bunch of bluebells for the lady.' The child obeyed me,hanging back, and looking back, and then laughing, while I prepared forbusiness. There and then I might have killed mine enemy, with a singleblow, while he lay unconscious; but it would have been foul play.

  With a sullen and black scowl, the Carver gathered his mighty limbs, andarose, and looked round for his weapons; but I had put them well away.Then he came to me and gazed; being wont to frighten thus young men.

  'I would not harm you, lad,' he said, with a lofty style of sneering: 'Ihave punished you enough, for most of your impertinence. For the rest Iforgive you; because you have been good and gracious to my little son.Go, and be contented.'

  For answer, I smote him on the cheek, lightly, and not to hurt him: butto make his blood leap up. I would not sully my tongue by speaking to aman like this.

  There was a level space of sward between us and the slough. With thecourtesy derived from London, and the processions I had seen, to thisplace I led him. And that he might breathe himself, and have every fibrecool, and every muscle ready, my hold upon his coat I loosed, and lefthim to begin with me, whenever he thought proper.

  I think that he felt that his time was come. I think he knew from myknitted muscles, and the firm arch of my breast, and the way in whichI stood; but most of all from my stern blue eyes; that he had found hismaster. At any rate a paleness came, an ashy paleness on his cheeks, andthe vast calves of his legs bowed in, as if he were out of training.

  Seeing this, villain as he was, I offered him first chance. I stretchedforth my left hand, as I do to a weaker antagonist, and I let him havethe hug of me. But in this I was too generous; having forgotten mypistol-wound, and the cracking of one of my short lower ribs. CarverDoone caught me round the waist, with such a grip as never yet had beenlaid upon me.

  I heard my rib go; I grasped his arm, and tore the muscle out of it* (asthe string comes out of an orange); then I took him by the throat, whichis not allowed in wrestling; but he had snatched at mine; and now was notime of dalliance. In vain he tugged, and strained, and writhed, dashedhis bleeding fist into my face, and flung himself on me with gnashingjaws. Beneath the iron of my strength--for God that day was with me--Ihad him helpless in two minutes, and his fiery eyes lolled out.

  * A far more terrible clutch than this is handed down, to weaker ages, of the great John Ridd.--Ed.

  'I will not harm thee any more,' I cried, so far as I could for panting,the work being very furious: 'Carver Doone, thou art beaten: own it, andthank God for it; and go thy way, and repent thyself.'

  It was all too late. Even if he had yielded in his ravening frenzy--forhis beard was like a mad dog's jowl--even if he would have owned that,for the first time in his life, he had found his master; it was all toolate.

  The black bog had him by the feet; the sucking of the ground drew onhim, like the thirsty lips of death. In our fury, we had heeded neitherwet nor dry; nor thought of earth beneath us. I myself might scarcelyleap, with the last spring of o'er-laboured legs, from the engulfinggrave of slime. He fell back, with his swarthy breast (from which mygripe had rent all clothing), like a hummock of bog-oak, standing outthe quagmire; and then he tossed his arms to heaven, and they were blackto the elbow, and the glare of his eyes was ghastly. I could only gazeand pant; for my strength was no more than an infant's, from the furyand the horror. Scarcely could I turn away, while, joint by joint, hesank from sight.