CHAPTER LXXV
LIFE AND LORNA COME AGAIN
When the little boy came back with the bluebells, which he had managedto find--as children always do find flowers, when older eyes seenone--the only sign of his father left was a dark brown bubble, upon anewly formed patch of blackness. But to the center of its pulpy gorgethe greedy slough was heaving, and sullenly grinding its weltering jawsamong the flags and the sedges.
With pain, and ache, both of mind and body, and shame at my own fury, Iheavily mounted my horse again, and, looked down at the innocent Ensie.Would this playful, loving child grow up like his cruel father, and enda godless life of hatred with a death of violence? He lifted his nobleforehead towards me, as if to answer, "Nay, I will not": but the wordshe spoke were these:--
'Don,'--for he could never say 'John'--'oh, Don, I am so glad that nastynaughty man is gone away. Take me home, Don. Take me home.'
It has been said of the wicked, 'not even their own children love them.'And I could easily believe that Carver Doone's cold-hearted ways hadscared from him even his favorite child. No man would I call trulywicked, unless his heart be cold.
It hurt me, more than I can tell, even through all other grief, to takeinto my arms the child of the man just slain by me. The feeling was afoolish one, and a wrong one, as the thing has been--for I would fainhave saved that man, after he was conquered--nevertheless my arms wentcoldly round that little fellow; neither would they have gone at all,if there had been any help for it. But I could not leave him there, tillsome one else might fetch him; on account of the cruel slough, and theravens which had come hovering over the dead horse; neither could I,with my wound, tie him on my horse and walk.
For now I had spent a great deal of blood, and was rather faint andweary. And it was lucky for me that Kickums had lost spirit, like hismaster, and went home as mildly as a lamb. For, when we came towards thefarm, I seemed to be riding in a dream almost; and the voices both ofman and women (who had hurried forth upon my track), as they met me,seemed to wander from a distant muffling cloud. Only the thought ofLorna's death, like a heavy knell, was tolling in the belfry of mybrain.
When we came to the stable door, I rather fell from my horse than gotoff; and John Fry, with a look of wonder took Kickum's head, and ledhim in. Into the old farmhouse I tottered, like a weanling child, withmother in her common clothes, helping me along, yet fearing, except bystealth, to look at me.
'I have killed him,' was all I said; 'even as he killed Lorna. Now letme see my wife, mother. She belongs to me none the less, though dead.'
'You cannot see her now, dear John,' said Ruth Huckaback, comingforward; since no one else had the courage. 'Annie is with her now,John.'
'What has that to do with it? Let me see my dead one; and pray myself todie.'
All the women fell away, and whispered, and looked at me, with sideglances, and some sobbing; for my face was hard as flint. Ruth alonestood by me, and dropped her eyes, and trembled. Then one little handof hers stole into my great shaking palm, and the other was laid onmy tattered coat: yet with her clothes she shunned my blood, while shewhispered gently,--
'John, she is not your dead one. She may even be your living one yet,your wife, your home, and your happiness. But you must not see her now.'
'Is there any chance for her? For me, I mean; for me, I mean?'
'God in heaven knows, dear John. But the sight of you, and in this sadplight, would be certain death to her. Now come first, and be healedyourself.'
I obeyed her, like a child, whispering only as I went, for none butmyself knew her goodness--'Almighty God will bless you, darling, for thegood you are doing now.'
Tenfold, ay and a thousandfold, I prayed and I believed it, when I cameto know the truth. If it had not been for this little maid, Lorna musthave died at once, as in my arms she lay for dead, from the dastard andmurderous cruelty. But the moment I left her Ruth came forward and tookthe command of every one, in right of her firmness and readiness.
She made them bear her home at once upon the door of the pulpit, withthe cushion under the drooping head. With her own little hands she cutoff, as tenderly as a pear is peeled, the bridal-dress, so steeped andstained, and then with her dainty transparent fingers (no larger than apencil) she probed the vile wound in the side, and fetched the reekingbullet forth; and then with the coldest water stanched the flowing ofthe life-blood. All this while my darling lay insensible, and white asdeath; and needed nothing but her maiden shroud.
But Ruth still sponged the poor side and forehead, and watched the longeyelashes flat upon the marble cheek; and laid her pure face on thefaint heart, and bade them fetch her Spanish wine. Then she parted thepearly teeth (feebly clenched on the hovering breath), and poured inwine from a christening spoon, and raised the graceful neck and breast,and stroked the delicate throat, and waited; and then poured in a littlemore.
Annie all the while looked on with horror and amazement, countingherself no second-rate nurse, and this as against all theory. But thequiet lifting of Ruth's hand, and one glance from her dark bright eyes,told Annie just to stand away, and not intercept the air so. And at thevery moment when all the rest had settled that Ruth was a simple idiot,but could not harm the dead much, a little flutter in the throat,followed by a short low sigh, made them pause, and look and hope.
For hours, however, and days, she lay at the very verge of death,kept alive by nothing but the care, the skill, the tenderness, and theperpetual watchfulness of Ruth. Luckily Annie was not there very often,so as to meddle; for kind and clever nurse as she was, she must havedone more harm than good. But my broken rib, which was set by a doctor,who chanced to be at the wedding, was allotted to Annie's care; andgreat inflammation ensuing, it was quite enough to content her. Thisdoctor had pronounced poor Lorna dead; wherefore Ruth refused mostfirmly to have aught to do with him. She took the whole case on herself;and with God's help she bore it through.
Now whether it were the light and brightness of my Lorna's nature; orthe freedom from anxiety--for she knew not of my hurt;--or, as somepeople said, her birthright among wounds and violence, or her manner ofnot drinking beer--I leave that doctor to determine who pronounced herdead. But anyhow, one thing is certain; sure as stars of hope above us;Lorna recovered, long ere I did.
For the grief was on me still of having lost my love and lover at themoment she was mine. With the power of fate upon me, and the blackcauldron of the wizard's death boiling in my heated brain, I hadno faith in the tales they told. I believed that Lorna was in thechurchyard, while these rogues were lying to me. For with strength ofblood like mine, and power of heart behind it, a broken bone must burnitself.
Mine went hard with fires of pain, being of such size and thickness; andI was ashamed of him for breaking by reason of a pistol-ball, and themere hug of a man. And it fetched me down in conceit of strength; sothat I was careful afterwards.
All this was a lesson to me. All this made me very humble; illness beinga thing, as yet, altogether unknown to me. Not that I cried small, orskulked, or feared the death which some foretold; shaking their headsabout mortification, and a green appearance. Only that I seemed quitefit to go to heaven, and Lorna. For in my sick distracted mind (stirredwith many tossings), like the bead in the spread of frog-spawn carriedby the current, hung the black and central essence of my future life. Alife without Lorna; a tadpole life. All stupid head; and no body.
Many men may like such life; anchorites, fakirs, high-priests, and soon but to my mind, it is not the native thing God meant for us. Mydearest mother was a show, with crying and with fretting. The Doones,as she thought, were born to destroy us. Scarce had she come to someliveliness (though sprinkled with tears, every now and then) after hergreat bereavement, and ten years' time to dwell on it--when lo, here washer husband's son, the pet child of her own good John, murdered like hisfather! Well, the ways of God were wonderful!
So they were, and so they are; and so they ever will be. Let us debatethem as we will, our ways are His, and
much the same; only second-handfrom Him. And I expected something from Him, even in my worst of times,knowing that I had done my best.
This is not edifying talk--as our Nonconformist parson says, when he canget no more to drink--therefore let me only tell what became of Lorna.One day, I was sitting in my bedroom, for I could not get downstairs,and there was no one strong enough to carry me, even if I would haveallowed it.
Though it cost me sore trouble and weariness, I had put on all my Sundayclothes, out of respect for the doctor, who was coming to bleed me again(as he always did twice a week); and it struck me that he had seemedhurt in his mind, because I wore my worst clothes to be bled in--for liein bed I would not, after six o'clock; and even that was great laziness.
I looked at my right hand, whose grasp had been like that of ablacksmith's vice; and it seemed to myself impossible that this couldbe John Ridd's. The great frame of the hand was there, as well as themuscles, standing forth like the guttering of a candle, and the broadblue veins, going up the back, and crossing every finger. But asfor colour, even Lorna's could scarcely have been whiter; and as forstrength, little Ensie Doone might have come and held it fast. I laughedas I tried in vain to lift the basin set for bleeding me.
Then I thought of all the lovely things going on out-of-doors just now,concerning which the drowsy song of the bees came to me. These mustbe among the thyme, by the sound of their great content. Therefore theroses must be in blossom, and the woodbine, and clove-gilly-flower; thecherries on the wall must be turning red, the yellow Sally must be onthe brook, wheat must be callow with quavering bloom, and the earlymeadows swathed with hay.
Yet here was I, a helpless creature quite unfit to stir among them,gifted with no sight, no scent of all the changes that move our love,and lead our hearts, from month to month, along the quiet path of life.And what was worse, I had no hope of caring ever for them more.
Presently a little knock sounded through my gloomy room, and supposingit to be the doctor, I tried to rise and make my bow. But to my surpriseit was little Ruth, who had never once come to visit me, since Iwas placed under the doctor's hands. Ruth was dressed so gaily, withrosettes, and flowers, and what not, that I was sorry for her badmanners; and thought she was come to conquer me, now that Lorna was donewith.
Ruth ran towards me with sparkling eyes, being rather short of sight;then suddenly she stopped, and I saw entire amazement in her face.
'Can you receive visitors, Cousin Ridd?--why, they never told me ofthis!' she cried: 'I knew that you were weak, dear John; but not thatyou were dying. Whatever is that basin for?'
'I have no intention of dying, Ruth; and I like not to talk about it.But that basin, if you must know, is for the doctor's purpose.'
'What, do you mean bleeding you? You poor weak cousin! Is it possiblethat he does that still?'
'Twice a week for the last six weeks, dear. Nothing else has kept mealive.'
'Nothing else has killed you, nearly. There!' and she set her littleboot across the basin, and crushed it. 'Not another drop shall they havefrom you. Is Annie such a fool as that? And Lizzie, like a zany, at herbooks! And killing her brother, between them!'
I was surprised to see Ruth excited; her character being so calm andquiet. And I tried to soothe her with my feeble hand, as now she kneltbefore me.
'Dear cousin, the doctor must know best. Annie says so, every day. Whathas he been brought up for?'
'Brought up for slaying and murdering. Twenty doctors killed KingCharles, in spite of all the women. Will you leave it to me, John? Ihave a little will of my own; and I am not afraid of doctors. Will youleave it to me, dear John? I have saved your Lorna's life. And now Iwill save yours; which is a far, far easier business.'
'You have saved my Lorna's life! What do you mean by talking so?'
'Only what I say, Cousin John. Though perhaps I overprize my work. Butat any rate she says so.'
'I do not understand,' I said, falling back with bewilderment; 'allwomen are such liars.'
'Have you ever known me tell a lie?' Ruth in great indignation--morefeigned, I doubt, than real--'your mother may tell a story, now and thenwhen she feels it right; and so may both your sisters. But so you cannotdo, John Ridd; and no more than you can I do it.'
If ever there was virtuous truth in the eyes of any woman, it was nowin Ruth Huckaback's: and my brain began very slowly to move, the heartbeing almost torpid from perpetual loss of blood.
'I do not understand,' was all I could say for a very long time.
'Will you understand, if I show you Lorna? I have feared to do it, forthe sake of you both. But now Lorna is well enough, if you think thatyou are, Cousin John. Surely you will understand, when you see yourwife.'
Following her, to the very utmost of my mind and heart, I felt that allshe said was truth; and yet I could not make it out. And in her lastfew words there was such a power of sadness rising through the coverof gaiety, that I said to myself, half in a dream, 'Ruth is verybeautiful.'
Before I had time to listen much for the approach of footsteps, Ruthcame back, and behind her Lorna; coy as if of her bridegroom; andhanging back with her beauty. Ruth banged the door, and ran away; andLorna stood before me.
But she did not stand for an instant, when she saw what I was like. Atthe risk of all thick bandages, and upsetting a dozen medicine bottles,and scattering leeches right and left, she managed to get into my arms,although they could not hold her. She laid her panting warm young breaston the place where they meant to bleed me, and she set my pale face up;and she would not look at me, having greater faith in kissing.
I felt my life come back, and warm; I felt my trust in women flow; Ifelt the joys of living now, and the power of doing it. It is not amoment to describe; who feels can never tell of it. But the rush ofLorna's tears, and the challenge of my bride's lips, and the throbbingof my wife's heart (now at last at home on mine), made me feel that theworld was good, and not a thing to be weary of.
Little more have I to tell. The doctor was turned out at once; andslowly came back my former strength, with a darling wife, and goodvictuals. As for Lorna, she never tired of sitting and watching me eatand eat. And such is her heart that she never tires of being with mehere and there, among the beautiful places, and talking with her armaround me--so far at least as it can go, though half of mine may goround her--of the many fears and troubles, dangers and discouragements,and worst of all the bitter partings, which we used to have, somehow.
There is no need for my farming harder than becomes a man of weight.Lorna has great stores of money, though we never draw it out, except forsome poor neighbor; unless I find her a sumptuous dress, out of her ownperquisites. And this she always looks upon as a wondrous gift from me;and kisses me much when she puts it on, and walks like the noble womanshe is. And yet I may never behold it again; for she gets back to hersimple clothes, and I love her the better in them. I believe that shegives half the grandeur away, and keeps the other half for the children.
As for poor Tom Faggus, every one knows his bitter adventures, when hispardon was recalled, because of his journey to Sedgemoor. Not a childin the country, I doubt, but knows far more than I do of Tom's mostdesperate doings. The law had ruined him once, he said; and then he hadbeen too much for the law: and now that a quiet life was his object,here the base thing came after him. And such was his dread of thisevil spirit, that being caught upon Barnstaple Bridge, with soldiersat either end of it (yet doubtful about approaching him), he set hisstrawberry mare, sweet Winnie, at the left-hand parapet, with a whisperinto her dove-coloured ear. Without a moment's doubt she leaped it, intothe foaming tide, and swam, and landed according to orders. Also hisflight from a public-house (where a trap was set for him, but Winniecame and broke down the door, and put two men under, and trod on them,)is as well known as any ballad. It was reported for awhile that poor Tomhad been caught at last, by means of his fondness for liquor, and washanged before Taunton Jail; but luckily we knew better. With a goodwife, and a wonderful horse, and all th
e country attached to him, hekept the law at a wholesome distance, until it became too much for itsmaster; and a new king arose. Upon this, Tom sued his pardon afresh; andJeremy Stickles, who suited the times, was glad to help him in gettingit, as well as a compensation. Thereafter the good and respectableTom lived a godly (though not always sober) life; and brought up hischildren to honesty, as the first of all qualifications.
My dear mother was as happy as possibly need be with us; having nocause for jealousy, as others arose around her. And everybody was wellpleased, when Lizzy came in one day and tossed her bookshelf over, anddeclared that she would have Captain Bloxham, and nobody should preventher. For that he alone, of all the men she had ever met with, knew goodwriting when he saw it, and could spell a word when told. As he had nowsucceeded to Captain Stickle's position (Stickles going up the tree),and had the power of collecting, and of keeping, what he liked, therewas nothing to be said against it; and we hoped that he would pay herout.
I sent little Ensie to Blundell's school, at my own cost and charges,having changed his name, for fear of what anyone might do to him. Icalled him Ensie Jones; and we got him a commission, and after manyscrapes of spirit, he did great things in the Low Countries. He looksupon me as his father; and without my leave will not lay claim to theheritage and title of the Doones, which clearly belong to him.
Ruth Huckaback is not married yet; although upon Uncle Reuben's deathshe came into all his property; except, indeed, 2000 pounds, which UncleBen, in his driest manner, bequeathed 'to Sir John Ridd, the worshipfulknight, for greasing of the testator's boots.' And he left almost amint of money, not from the mine, but from the shop, and the good use ofusury. For the mine had brought in just what it cost, when the vein ofgold ended suddenly; leaving all concerned much older, and some, I fear,much poorer; but no one utterly ruined, as is the case with most ofthem. Ruth herself was his true mine, as upon death-bed he found. I knowa man even worthy of her: and though she is not very young, he lovesher, as I love Lorna. It is my firm conviction, that in the end hewill win her; and I do not mean to dance again, except at dear Ruth'swedding; if the floor be strong enough.
Of Lorna, of my lifelong darling, of my more and more loved wife, I willnot talk; for it is not seemly that a man should exalt his pride. Yearby year her beauty grows, with the growth of goodness, kindness, andtrue happiness--above all with loving. For change, she makes a joke ofthis, and plays with it, and laughs at it; and then, when my slow naturemarvels, back she comes to the earnest thing. And if I wish to pay herout for something very dreadful--as may happen once or twice, when webecome too gladsome--I bring her to forgotten sadness, and to me forcure of it, by the two words 'Lorna Doone.'
Lorna Doone: A Romance of Exmoor Page 75