There are
troubles
hanging over me, as
sure as the tail of that comet grows.
sure as the tail of that comet grows.
Warner - World's Best Literature - v04 - Bes to Bro
And I repeated it softly to myself, while I marked the
position of the houses and the beauty of the village. For the
stream, in lieu of the street, passing between the houses, and
affording perpetual change and twinkling and reflections-more-
over, by its sleepy murmur, soothing all the dwellers there-
I
ĭ
I
## p. 2020 (#214) ###########################################
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RICHARD DODDRIDGE BLACKMORE
this, and the snugness of the position, walled with rock and
spread with herbage, made it look in the quiet moonlight like a
little paradise. And to think of all the inmates there sleeping
with good consciences, having plied their useful trade of making
others work for them, enjoying life without much labor, yet with
great renown!
Master Charlie went down the village, and I followed him
carefully, keeping as much as possible in the shadowy places,
and watching the windows of every house, lest any light should
be burning. As I passed Sir Ensor's house, my heart leaped up,
for I spied a window, higher than the rest above the ground,
and with a faint light moving. This could hardly fail to be the
room wherein my darling lay; for here that impudent young fel-
low had gazed while he was whistling. And here my courage
grew tenfold, and my spirit feared no evil; for lo! if Lorna
had been surrendered to that scoundrel Carver, she would not
have been at her grandfather's house, but in Carver's accursed
dwelling.
Warm with this idea, I hurried after Charleworth Doone,
being resolved not to harm him now, unless my own life required
it. And while I watched from behind a tree, the door of the
furthest house was opened; and, sure enough, it was Carver's
self, who stood bareheaded, and half undressed, in the doorway.
I could see his great black chest and arms, by the light of the
lamp he bore.
"Who wants me this time of night? " he grumbled, in a deep,
gruff voice; "any young scamp prowling after the maids shall
have sore bones for his trouble. "
"All the fair maids are for thee, are they, Master Carver? "
Charlie answered, laughing; "we young scamps must be well
content with coarser stuff than thou wouldst have. "
"Would have? Ay, and will have," the great beast muttered,
angrily. "I bide my time; but not very long. Only one word
for thy good, Charlie. I will fling thee senseless into the river
if ever I catch thy girl-face here again. "
<< Mayhap, Master Carver, it is more than thou couldst do.
But I will not keep thee; thou art not pleasant company to-night.
All I want is a light for my lantern, and a glass of schnapps, if
thou hast it. "
"What is become of thy light, then? Good for thee I am
not on duty. "
## p. 2021 (#215) ###########################################
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2021
"A great owl flew between me and Phelps as we watched
beside the culverin, and so scared was he at our fierce bright
eyes that he fell and knocked the light out. "
"Likely tale, or likely lie, Charles! We will have the truth
to-morrow. Here, take thy light, and be gone with thee. All
virtuous men are in bed now. "
"Then so will I be; and why art thou not? Ha! have I
earned my schnapps now? "
"If thou hast, thou hast paid a bad debt! there is too much
in thee already. Be off! my patience is done with. "
Then he slammed the door in the young man's face, having
kindled his lantern by this time; and Charlie went up the watch-
place again, muttering, as he passed me, "Bad lookout for all of
us when that surly old beast is captain. No gentle blood in him,
no hospitality, not even pleasant language, nor a good new oath
in his frowzy pate! I've a mind to cut the whole of it; and but
for the girls I would do so. "
My heart was in my mouth, as they say, when I stood in the
shade by Lorna's window, and whispered her name gently. The
house was of one story only, as the others were, with pine-ends
standing forth the stone, and only two rough windows upon that
western side of it, and perhaps those two were Lorna's. The
Doones had been their own builders, for no one should know
their ins and outs; and of course their work was clumsy. As for
their windows, they stole them mostly from the houses round
about. But though the window was not very close, I might have
whispered long enough before she would have answered me,
frightened as she was, no doubt, by many a rude overture. And
I durst not speak aloud, because I saw another watchman posted
on the western cliff, and commanding all the valley. And now
this man (having no companion for drinking or for gambling)
espied me against the wall of the house, and advanced to the
brink, and challenged me.
"Who are you there? Answer. One, two, three and I fire at
thee. "
The nozzle of his gun was pointed full upon me, as I could
see, with the moonlight striking on the barrel; he was not more.
than fifty yards off, and now he began to reckon. Being almost
desperate about it, I began to whistle, wondering how far I
should get before I lost my windpipe; and as luck would have
it, my lips fell into that strange tune I had practiced last; the
## p. 2022 (#216) ###########################################
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RICHARD DODDRIDGE BLACKMORE
one I had heard from Charlie. My mouth would hardly frame
the notes, being parched with terror; but to my surprise, the
man fell back, dropped his gun, and saluted. Oh, sweetest of all
sweet melodies!
That tune was Carver Doone's passport (as I heard long after-
ward), which Charleworth Doone had imitated, for decoy of
Lorna. The sentinel took me for that vile Carver, who was like
enough to be prowling there for private talk with Lorna, but
not very likely to shout forth his name, if it might be avoided.
The watchman, perceiving the danger, perhaps, of intruding on
Carver's privacy, not only retired along the cliff, but withdrew
himself to good distance.
Meanwhile he had done me the kindest service; for Lorna
came to the window at once to see what the cause of the shout
was, and drew back the curtain timidly. Then she opened the
rough lattice, and then she watched the cliff and trees, and then
she sighed very sadly.
"O Lorna, don't you know me? " I whispered from the side,
being afraid of startling her by appearing over-suddenly.
Quick though she always was of thought, she knew me not
from my whisper, and was shutting the window hastily, when I
caught it back and showed myself.
"John! " she cried, yet with sense enough not to speak aloud;
"oh, you must be mad, John! "
"As mad as a March hare," said I, "without any news of my
darling. You knew I would come of course you did. "
A WEDDING AND A REVENGE
From Lorna Doone'
Η
OWEVER humble I might be, no one knowing anything of our
part of the country would for a moment doubt that now
here was a great to-do and talk of John Ridd and his
wedding. The fierce fight with the Doones so lately, and my
leading of the combat (though I fought not more than need be),
and the vanishing of Sir Counselor, and the galloping madness
of Carver, and the religious fear of the women that this last was
gone to hell,- for he himself had declared that his aim, while he
cut through the yeomanry,- also their remorse that he should
## p. 2023 (#217) ###########################################
RICHARD DODDRIDGE BLACKMORE
2023
have been made to go thither, with all his children left behind-
these things, I say (if ever I can again contrive to say any-
thing), had led to the broadest excitement about my wedding of
Lorna. We heard that people meant to come from more than
thirty miles around, upon excuse of seeing my stature and Lor-
na's beauty, but in good truth out of sheer curiosity and the love
of meddling.
Our clerk had given notice that not a man should come inside
the door of his church without shilling fee, and women (as
sure to see twice as much) must every one pay two shillings.
I thought this wrong; and as churchwarden, begged that the
money might be paid into mine own hands when taken. But
the clerk said that was against all law; and he had orders from
the parson to pay it to him without any delay. So, as I always
obey the parson when I care not much about a thing, I let them
have it their own way, though feeling inclined to believe some-
times that I ought to have some of the money.
Dear mother arranged all the ins and outs of the way in
which it was to be done; and Annie and Lizzie, and all the
Snowes, and even Ruth Huckaback (who was there, after great
persuasion), made such a sweeping of dresses that I scarcely
knew where to place my feet, and longed for a staff to put by
their gowns.
Then Lorna came out of a pew half-way, in a
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, yet took in all her beauty. She was in a fright, no doubt,
but nobody should see it; whereas I said (to myself, at least), “I
will go through it like a grave-digger. "
Lorna's dress was of pure white, clouded with faint lavender
(for the sake of the old Earl Brandir), and as simple as need be,
except for perfect loveliness. I was afraid to look at her, as I
said before, except when each of us said, "I will;" and then
each dwelt upon the other.
It is impossible for any who have not loved as I have to con-
ceive my joy and pride when, after ring and all was done, and
the parson had blessed us, Lorna turned to look at me with her
glances of subtle fun subdued by this great act.
Her eyes, which none on earth may ever equal or compare
with, told me such a depth of comfort, yet awaiting further com-
mune, that I was almost amazed, thoroughly as I knew them.
## p. 2024 (#218) ###########################################
RICHARD DODDRIDGE BLACKMORE
2024
Darling eyes, the sweetest eyes, the loveliest, the most loving
eyes the sound of a shot rang through the church, and those
eyes were filled with death.
-
Lorna fell across my knees when I was going to kiss her, as
the bridegroom is allowed to do, and encouraged, if he needs it:
a flood of blood came out upon the yellow wood of the altar
steps; and at my feet lay Lorna, trying to tell me some last mes-
sage out of her faithful eyes. I lifted her up, and petted her,
and coaxed her, but it was no good; the only sign of life remain-
ing was a spurt of bright red blood.
me
-
Some men know what things befall them in the supreme
time of their life- - far above the time of death but to
comes back as a hazy dream, without any knowledge in it, what
I did, or felt, or thought, with my wife's arms flagging, flagging,
around my neck, as I raised her up, and softly put them there.
She sighed a long sigh on my breast, for her last farewell to
life, and then she grew so cold, and cold, that I asked the time
of year.
It was now Whit-Tuesday, and the lilacs all in blossom; and
why I thought of 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, and looked, and our white lilacs
were beautiful. Then I laid my wife in my mother's arms, and
begging that no one would make a noise, went forth for my
―
revenge.
Of course I knew who had done it. There was but one man
in the world, or at any rate in our part of it, who could have
done such a thing-such a thing. I use no harsher word about
it, while I leaped upon our best horse, with bridle, but no sad-
dle, and set the head of Kickums toward the course now pointed
out to me. Who showed me the course I cannot tell. I only
know that I took it. And the men fell back before me.
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 the bride), I went forth just to find out this-
whether in this world there be or be not a God of justice.
With my vicious horse at a furious speed, I came up Black
Barrow Down, directed by some shout of men, which seemed to
me but a whisper. And there, about a furlong before me, rode
a man on a great black horse, and I knew that man was Carver
Doone.
## p. 2025 (#219) ###########################################
RICHARD DODDRIDGE BLACKMORE
2025
"Your life, or mine," I said to myself; "as the will of God
may be.
But we 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 with a gun-if he had time to load again, after
shooting my Lorna or at any rate with pistols, and a horse-
man's sword as well. Nevertheless, I had no more doubt of
killing the man before me than a cook has of spitting a headless
fowl.
-
Sometimes seeing no ground beneath me, and sometimes heed-
ing every leaf, and the crossing of the grass-blades, I followed
over the long moor, reckless whether seen or not. But only
once the other man turned round and looked back again, and
then I was beside a rock, with a reedy swamp behind me.
Although he was so far before me, and riding as hard as
ride he might, I saw that he had something on the horse in
front of him; something which needed care, and stopped him
from looking backward. In the whirling of my wits, I fancied
first that this was Lorna; until the scene I had been through
fell across hot brain and heart, like the drop at the close of a
tragedy. Rushing there through crag and quag at utmost speed
of a maddened 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 as Carver entered it, he turned round, and beheld
me not a hundred yards behind; and I saw that he was bearing
his child, little Ensie, before him. 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 slung carbine had received no bullet since the one that
pierced Lorna. And a cry of triumph rose from the black
depths of my heart. What cared I for 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 I knew that
the black steed in front, if he breasted the steep ascent, where
the track divided, must be in our reach at once.
## p. 2026 (#220) ###########################################
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RICHARD DODDRIDGE BLACKMORE
His rider knew this, and having no room in the rocky chan
nel to turn and fire, drew rein at the crossways sharply, and
plunged into the black ravine leading to the Wizard's Slough.
"Is it so? " I said to myself, with brain and head cold as iron:
"though the foul fiend come from the slough 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 to approach him, for he knew not where he was;
and his low disdainful laugh came back. "Laugh he who wins,"
thought I.
A gnarled and half-starved oak, as stubborn as my own re-
solve, and smitten by some storm of old, hung from the crag
above me. Rising from my horse's back, although I had no stir-
rups, I caught a limb, and tore it (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 would have turned upon me. But instead of
that, he again rode on, hoping to find a way round the side.
Now there is a way between cliff and slough for those who
know the ground thoroughly, or have time enough to search it;
but for him there was no road, and he lost some time in seek-
ing it. Upon this he made up his mind; and wheeling, fired,
and then rode at me.
His bullet struck me somewhere, but I took no heed of that.
Fearing only his escape, I laid my horse across the way, and
with the limb of oak struck full on the forehead his charging
steed. Ere the slash of the sword came nigh me, man and
horse rolled over and well-nigh bore my own horse 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 little boy ran to me, clasped my
leg, and looked up at me, and the terror in his eyes made me
almost fear myself.
"Ensie dear," I said quite gently, grieving that he should see
his wicked father killed, "run up yonder round the corner, and
## p. 2027 (#221) ###########################################
RICHARD DODDRIDGE BLACKMORE
2027
try to find a pretty bunch of bluebells for the lady. " The child
obeyed me, hanging back, and looking back, and then laughing,
while I prepared for business. There and then I might have
killed mine enemy with a single blow while he lay unconscious,
but it would have been foul play.
With a sullen and black scowl, the Carver gathered his
mighty limbs and arose, 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: “I have punished you enough for most of your imper-
tinence. For the rest I forgive 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, but to make his blood leap up. I would not sully my
tongue by speaking to a man like this.
There was a level space of sward between us and the slough.
With the courtesy derived from London, and the procession I
had seen, to this place I led him. And that he might breathe
himself, and have every fibre cool, and every muscle ready, my
hold upon his coat I loosed, and left him to begin with me
whenever he thought proper.
I think he felt that his time was come. I think he knew
from my knitted muscles, and the firm arch of my breast, and
the way in which I stood, but most of all from my stern blue
eyes, that he had found his master. At any rate, a paleness
came, an ashy paleness on his cheeks, and the 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
stretched forth my left hand as I do to a weaker antagonist, and
I let him have the hug of me. But in this I was too generous;
having forgotten my pistol-wound, and the cracking of one of my
short lower ribs. Carver Doone caught me round the waist with
such a grip as never yet had been laid upon me.
I heard my rib go; I grasped his arm and tore the muscle
out of it* (as the string comes out of an orange); then I took
him by the throat, which is not allowed in wrestling, but he had
snatched at mine; and now was no time of dalliance. In vain he
* A far more terrible clutch than this is handed down, to weaker ages, of
the great John Ridd. - ED. L. D.
## p. 2028 (#222) ###########################################
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RICHARD DODDRIDGE BLACKMORE
tugged and strained and writhed, dashed his bleeding fist into
my face, and flung himself on me with gnashing jaws. Beneath
the iron of my strength-for God that day was with me - I had
him helpless in two minutes, and his fiery eyes lolled out.
"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, and thank God for it; and go thy way, and
repent thyself. "
It was all too late. Even if he had yielded in his ravening
frenzy for his 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 too late.
The black bog had him by the feet; the sucking of the ground
drew on him, like the thirsty lips of death. In our fury we had
heeded neither wet nor dry, nor thought of earth beneath us.
I myself might scarcely leap, with the last spring of o'erlabored
legs, from the engulfing grave of slime. He fell back, with his
swarthy breast (from which my grip had rent all clothing), like
a hummock of bog-oak, standing out the quagmire; and then he
tossed his arms to heaven, and they were black to the elbow,
and the glare of his eyes was ghastly. I could only gaze and
pant; for my strength was no more than an infant's from the
fury and the horror. Scarcely could I turn away, while, joint by
joint, he sank from sight.
―
LANDING THE TROUT
From Alice Lorraine'
HE trout knew nothing of all this. They had not tasted a
Tworm for a month, except when a sod of the bank fell in,
through cracks of the sun, and the way cold water has of
licking upward. And even the flies had no flavor at all; when
they fell on the water, they fell flat, and on the palate they
tasted hot, even under the bushes.
Hilary followed a path through the meadows, with the calm.
bright sunset casting its shadow over the shorn grass, or up in
the hedge-road, or on the brown banks where the drought had
struck. On his back he carried a fishing-basket, containing his
bits of refreshment; and in his right hand a short springy rod,
the absent sailor's favorite. After long council with Mabel, he
## p. 2029 (#223) ###########################################
RICHARD DODDRIDGE BLACKMORE
2029
had made up his mind to walk up-stream as far as the spot
where two brooks met, and formed body enough for a fly flipped
in very carefully to sail downward. Here he began, and the
creak of his reel and the swish of his rod were music to him,
after the whirl of London life.
The brook was as bright as the best cut-glass, and the twinkles
of its shifting facets only made it seem more clear. It twisted
about a little, here and there; and the brink was fringed now
and then with something, a clump of loosestrife, a tuft of avens,
or a bed of flowering water-cress, or any other of the many
plants that wash and look into the water. But the trout, the
main object in view, were most objectionably too much in view.
They scudded up the brook at the shadow of a hair, or even the
tremble of a blade of grass; and no pacific assurance could make
them even stop to be reasoned with. "This won't do," said
Hilary, who very often talked to himself, in lack of a better
comrade. "I call this very hard upon me. The beggars won't
rise till it is quite dark. I must have the interdict off my tobacco,
if this sort of thing is to go on. How I should enjoy a pipe just
now! I may just as well sit on a gate and think. No, hang it,
I hate thinking now.
There are troubles hanging over me, as
sure as the tail of that comet grows. How I detest that comet!
No wonder the fish won't rise. But if I have to strip, and tickle
them in the dark, I won't go back without some for her. "
He was lucky enough to escape the weight of such horrible
poaching upon his conscience; for suddenly to his ears was borne
the most melodious of all sounds, the flop of a heavy fish sweetly.
jumping after some excellent fly or grub.
"Ha, my friend! " cried Hilary, "so you are up for your
supper, are you? I myself will awake right early. Still I behold
the ring you made. If my right hand forget not its cunning,
yon shall form your next ring in the frying-pan. "
He gave that fish a little time to think of the beauty of that
mouthful, and get ready for another, the while he was putting a
white moth on, in lieu of his blue upright. He kept the griz-
zled palmer still for tail-fly, and he tried his knots, for he knew
that this trout was a Triton.
Then, with a delicate sidling and stooping, known only to
them that fish for trout in very bright water of the summer-
time, compared with which art the coarse work of the salmon-
fisher is as that of a scene-painter to Mr. Holman Hunt's—with,
## p. 2030 (#224) ###########################################
2030
RICHARD DODDRIDGE BLACKMORE
or in, or by, a careful manner, not to be described to those who
have never studied it, Hilary won access of the water, without
any doubt in the mind of the fish concerning the prudence of
appetite. Then he flipped his short collar in, not with a cast,
but a spring of the rod, and let his flies go quietly down a
sharpish run into that good trout's hole. The worthy trout
looked at them both, and thought; for he had his own favorite
spot for watching the world go by, as the rest of us have. So
he let the grizzled palmer pass, within an inch of his upper lip;
for it struck him that the tail turned up in a manner not wholly
natural, or at any rate unwholesome. He looked at the white
moth also, and thought that he had never seen one at all like it.
So he went down under his root again, hugging himself upon
his wisdom, never moving a fin, but oaring and helming his
plump, spotted sides with his tail.
"Upon my word, it is too bad," said Hilary, after three beau-
tiful throws, and exquisite management down-stream; "every-
thing Kentish beats me hollow. Now, if that had been one of
our trout, I would have laid my life upon catching him. One
more throw, however. How would it be if I sunk my flies?
That fellow is worth some patience. "
While he was speaking, his flies alit on the glassy ripple, like
gnats in their love-dance; and then by a turn of the wrist, he
played them just below the surface, and let them go gliding
down the stickle, into the shelfy nook of shadow where the big
trout hovered. Under the surface, floating thus, with the check
of ductile influence, the two flies spread their wings and quiv-
ered, like a centiplume moth in a spider's web. Still the old
trout, calmly oaring, looked at them both suspiciously. Why
should the same flies come so often, and why should they have
such crooked tails, and could he be sure that he did not spy the
shadow of a human hat about twelve yards up the water? Re-
volving these things, he might have lived to a venerable age
but for that noble ambition to teach, which is fatal to even the
wisest. A young fish, an insolent whipper-snapper, jumped in
his babyish way at the palmer, and missed it through over-eager-
"I'll show you the way to catch a fly," said the big trout
to him: "
open your mouth like this, my son.
With that he bolted the palmer, and threw up his tail, and
turned to go home again. Alas! his sweet home now shall
know him no more. For suddenly he was surprised by a most
ness.
>>>
## p. 2031 (#225) ###########################################
RICHARD DODDRIDGE BLACKMORE
2031
disagreeable sense of grittiness, and then a keen stab in the
roof of his mouth. He jumped, in his wrath, a foot out of the
water, and then heavily plunged to the depths of his hole.
"You've got it, my friend," cried Hilary, in a tingle of fine
emotions; "I hope the sailor's knots are tied with professional
skill and care. You are a big one, and a clever one too. It is
much if I ever land you. No net, or gaff, or anything. I only
hope that there are no stakes here. Ah, there you go! Now
comes the tug. ”
Away went the big trout down the stream, at a pace very
hard to exaggerate, and after him rushed Hilary, knowing that
his line was rather short, and that if it ran out, all was over.
Keeping his eyes on the water only, and the headlong speed of
the fugitive, headlong over a stake he fell, and took a deep
wound from another stake. Scarcely feeling it, up he jumped,
lifting his rod, which had fallen flat, and fearing to find no
strain on it. "Aha, he is not gone yet! " he cried, as the rod
bowed like a springle-bow.
He was now a good hundred yards down the brook from the
corner where the fight began. Through his swiftness of foot,
and good management, the fish had never been able to tighten
the line beyond yield of endurance. The bank had been free
from bushes, or haply no skill could have saved him; but now
they were come to a corner where a nut-bush quite overhung
the stream.
"I am done for now," said the fisherman; "the villain knows
too well what he is about. Here ends this adventure. "
Full though he was of despair, he jumped anyhow into the
water, kept the point of his rod close down, reeled up a little
as the fish felt weaker, and just cleared the drop of the hazel
boughs. The water flapped into the pockets of his coat, and he
saw red streaks flow downward. And then he plunged out to an
open reach of shallow water and gravel slope.
"I ought to have you now," he said, "though nobody knows
what a rogue you are; and a pretty dance you have led me! »
Doubting the strength of his tackle to lift even the dead
weight of the fish, and much more to meet his despairing rally,
he happily saw a little shallow gut, or back-water, where a small
spring ran out. Into this by a dexterous turn he rather led
than pulled the fish, who was ready to rest for a minute or two;
then he stuck his rod into the bank, ran down stream, and with
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RICHARD DODDRIDGE BLACKMORE
his hat in both hands appeared at the only exit from the gut.
It was all up now with the monarch of the brook. As he
skipped and jumped, with his rich yellow belly, and chaste sil-
ver sides, in the green of the grass, joy and glory of the highest
merit, and gratitude, glowed in the heart of Lorraine. "Two and
three quarters you must weigh. And at your very best you are!
How small your head is! And how bright your spots are! " he
cried, as he gave him the stroke of grace. "You really have
been a brave and fine fellow. I hope they will know how to
fry you "
While he cut his fly out of this grand trout's mouth, he felt
for the first time a pain in his knee, where the point of the
stake had entered it. Under the buckle of his breeches blood
was soaking away inside his gaiters; and then he saw how he
had dyed the water. After washing the wound and binding it
with dock-leaves and a handkerchief, he followed the stream
through a few more meadows, for the fish began to sport pretty
well as the gloom of the evening deepened; so that by the time.
the gables of the old farm-house appeared, by the light of a
young moon, and the comet, Lorraine had a dozen more trout
in his basket, silvery-sided and handsome fellows, though none
of them over a pound perhaps, except his first and redoubtable
captive.
A DANE IN THE DIKE
From Mary Anerley'
N
[ow, whether spy-glass had been used by any watchful mar-
iner, or whether only blind chance willed it, sure it is that
one fine morning Mary met with somebody. And this was
the more remarkable, when people came to think of it, because
it was only the night before that her mother had almost said as
much.
"Ye munna gaw doon to t' sea be yersell," Mistress Anerley
said to her daughter: "happen ye mought be one too many. "
Master Anerley's wife had been at "boarding-school," as
far south as Suffolk, and could speak the very best of south-
ern English (like her daughter Mary) upon polite occasion. But
family cares and farm-house life had partly cured her of her
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RICHARD DODDRIDGE BLACKMORE
2033
education, and from troubles of distant speech she had returned
to the ease of her native dialect.
"And if I go not to the sea by myself," asked Mary, with
natural logic, "why, who is there now to go with me? " She was
thinking of her sadly missed comrade, Jack.
"Happen some day, perhaps, one too many. "
The maiden was almost too innocent to blush; but her father
took her part as usual.
"The little lass sall gaw doon," he said, "wheniver sha likes. ”
And so she went down the next morning.
A thousand years ago the Dane's Dike must have been a very
grand intrenchment, and a thousand years ere that perhaps it was
still grander; for learned men say that it was a British work,
wrought out before the Danes had ever learned to build a ship.
Whatever, however, may be argued about that, the wise and the
witless do agree about one thing-the stronghold inside it had
been held by Danes, while severed by the Dike from inland parts,
and these Danes made a good colony of their own, and left to
their descendants distinct speech and manners, some traces of
which are existing even now. The Dike, extending from the
rough North Sea to the calmer waters of Bridlington Bay, is
nothing more than a deep dry trench, skillfully following the
hollows of the ground, and cutting off Flamborough Head and a
solid cantle of high land from the rest of Yorkshire. The corner
so intercepted used to be and is still called "Little Denmark";
and the in-dwellers feel a large contempt for all their outer
neighbors. And this is sad, because Anerley Farm lies wholly
outside of the Dike, which for a long crooked distance serves as
its eastern boundary.
Upon the morning of the self-same day that saw Mr. Jelli-
corse set forth upon his return from Scargate Hall, armed with
instructions to defy the devil, and to keep his discovery quiet-
upon a lovely August morning of the first year of a new cen-
tury, Mary Anerley, blithe and gay, came riding down the grassy
hollow of this ancient Dane's Dike. This was her shortest way
to the sea, and the tide would suit (if she could only catch it)
for a take of shrimps, and perhaps even prawns, in time for her
father's breakfast. And not to lose this, she arose right early,
and rousing Lord Keppel, set forth for the spot where she kept
her net covered with sea-weed. The sun, though up and brisk
already upon sea and foreland, had not found time to rout the
shadows skulking in the dingles. But even here, where sap of
IV-128
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RICHARD DODDRIDGE BLACKMORE
time had breached the turfy ramparts, the hover of the dew-mist
passed away, and the steady light was unfolded. .
For the season was early August still, with beautiful weather
come at last; and the green world seemed to stand on tiptoe to
make the extraordinary acquaintance of the sun. Humble plants
which had long lain flat stood up with a sense of casting some-
thing off; and the damp heavy trunks which had trickled for a
twelvemonth, or been only sponged with moss, were hailing the
fresher light with keener lines and dove-colored tints upon their
smoother boles. Then, conquering the barrier of the eastern
land crest, rose the glorious sun himself, strewing before him
trees and crags in long steep shadows down the hill. Then the
sloping rays, through furze and brush-land, kindling the sparkles
of the dew, descended to the brink of the Dike, and scorning to
halt at petty obstacles, with a hundred golden hurdles bridged it
wherever any opening was.
Under this luminous span, or through it where the crossing
gullies ran, Mary Anerley rode at leisure, allowing her pony to
choose his pace. That privilege he had long secured, in right
of age, and wisdom, and remarkable force of character. Con-
sidering his time of life, he looked well and sleek, and almost
sprightly; and so, without any reservation, did his gentle and
graceful rider. The maiden looked well in a place like that, as
indeed in almost any place; but now she especially set off the
color of things, and was set off by them. For instance, how
could the silver of the dew-cloud, and golden weft of sunrise,
playing through the dapples of a partly wooded glen, do better
(in the matter of variety) than frame a pretty moving figure in
a pink checked frock, with a skirt of russet murrey, and a bright
brown hat? Not that the hat itself was bright, even under the
kiss of sunshine, simply having seen already too much of the
sun, but rather that its early lustre seemed to be revived by a
sense of the happy position it was in; the clustering hair and
the bright eyes beneath it answering the sunny dance of life
and light. Many a handsomer face, no doubt, more perfect,
grand and lofty, received-at least if it was out of bed-the
greeting of that morning sun; but scarcely any prettier one, or
kinder, or more pleasant, so gentle without being weak, so good-
tempered without looking void of all temper at all.
Suddenly the beauty of the time and place was broken by
sharp, angry sound. Bang! bang! came the roar of muskets
fired from the shore at the mouth of the Dike, and echoing up
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RICHARD DODDRIDGE BLACKMORE
2035
the winding glen. At the first report the girl, though startled,
was not greatly frightened; for the sound was common enough in
the week when those most gallant volunteers entitled the "York-
shire Invincibles" came down for their annual practice of skilled
gunnery against the French. Their habit was to bring down a
red cock, and tether him against a chalky cliff, and then vie with
one another in shooting at him. The same cock had tested their
skill for three summers, but failed hitherto to attest it, prefer-
ring to return in a hamper to his hens, with a story of moving
adventures.
Mary had watched those Invincibles sometimes from a respect-
ful distance, and therefore felt sure (when she began to think)
that she had not them to thank for this little scare.
For they
always slept soundly in the first watch of the morning; and even
supposing they had jumped up with nightmare, where was the
jubilant crow of the cock? For the cock, being almost as invin-
cible as they were, never could deny himself the glory of a
crow when the bullet came into his neighborhood. He replied to
every volley with an elevated comb, and a flapping of his wings,
and a clarion peal, which rang along the foreshore ere the musket
roar died out. But before the girl had time to ponder what it
was, or wherefore, round the corner came somebody, running
very swiftly.
In a moment Mary saw that this man had been shot at, and
was making for his life away; and to give him every chance she
jerked her pony aside, and called and beckoned; and without a
word he flew to her. Words were beyond him, if his breath
should come back, and he seemed to have no time to wait for
that. He had outstripped the wind, and his own wind, by his
speed.
"Poor man! " cried Mary Anerley, "what a hurry you are in!
But I suppose you cannot help it. Are they shooting at you? "
The runaway nodded, for he could not spare a breath, but
was deeply inhaling for another start, and could not even bow
without hindrance. But to show that he had manners, he took
off his hat. Then he clapped it on his head and set off again.
"Come back! " cried the maid; "I can show you a place. I
can hide you from your enemies forever. "
The young fellow stopped. He was come to that pitch of
exhaustion in which a man scarcely cares whether he is killed
or dies. And his face showed not a sign of fear.
## p. 2036 (#230) ###########################################
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RICHARD DODDRIDGE BLACKMORE
"Look! That little hole-
once, and this cloth over you! "
He snatched it, and was gone, like the darting lizard, up a
little puckering side issue of the Dike, at the very same instant
that three broad figures and a long one appeared at the lip of
the mouth. The quick-witted girl rode on to meet them, to give
the poor fugitive time to get into his hole and draw the brown
skirt over him. The dazzle of the sun, pouring over the crest,
made the hollow a twinkling obscurity; and the cloth was just
in keeping with the dead stuff around. The three broad men,
with heavy fusils cocked, came up from the sea-mouth of the
Dike, steadily panting, and running steadily with a long-enduring
stride. Behind them a tall bony man with a cutlass was swing-
ing it high in the air, and limping, and swearing with great
velocity.
—
up there-by the fern. Up at
"Coast-riders," thought Mary, "and he a free-trader [smug.
gler]! Four against one is cowardice. "
"Halt! " cried the tall man, while the rest were running past
her; "halt! ground arms; never scare young ladies. " Then he
flourished his hat, with a grand bow to Mary.
"Fair young
Mistress Anerley, I fear we spoil your ride. But his Majesty's
duty must be done. Hats off, fellows, at the name of your king!
Mary, my dear, the most daring villain, the devil's own son, has
just run up here - scarcely two minutes-you must have seen
him. Wait a minute; tell no lies- excuse me, I mean fibs.
Your father is the right sort. He hates those scoundrels. In
the name of his Majesty, which way is he gone? "
"Was it -oh, was it a man, if you please? Captain Carro-
way, don't say so. "
You are
―
"A man? Is it likely that we shot at a woman?
trifling. It will be the worse for you. Forgive me - but we
are in such a hurry. Whoa! whoa! pony. "
"You always used to be so polite, sir, that you quite surprise
me. And those guns look so dreadful! My father would be
quite astonished to see me not even allowed to go down to the
sea, but hurried back here, as if the French had landed. ”
"How can I help it, if your pony runs away so? " For Mary
all this time had been cleverly contriving to increase and exag-
gerate her pony's fear, and so brought the gunners for a long
way up the Dike, without giving them any time to spy at all
about. She knew that this was wicked from a loyal point of
-
## p. 2037 (#231) ###########################################
RICHARD DODDRIDGE BLACKMORE
2037
view; not a bit the less she did it. "What a troublesome little
horse it is! " she cried. "O Captain Carroway, hold him just a
moment. I will jump down, and then you can jump up, and
ride after all his Majesty's enemies. "
"The Lord forbid! He slews all out of gear, like a carronade
with rotten lashings. If I boarded him, how could I get out of
his way? No, no, my dear, brace him up sharp, and bear clear. "
"But you wanted to know about some enemy, captain. An
enemy as bad as my poor Lord Keppel? "
«< Mary, my dear, the very biggest villain! A hundred golden
guineas on his head, and half for you. Think of your father,
my dear, and Sunday gowns. And you must have a young man
by-and-by, you know-such a beautiful maid as you are. And
you might get a leather purse, and give it to him. Mary, on
your duty, now? »
«< Captain, you drive me so, what can I say? I cannot bear
the thought of betraying anybody. "
"Of course not, Mary dear; nobody asks you. He must be
half a mile off by this time.
position of the houses and the beauty of the village. For the
stream, in lieu of the street, passing between the houses, and
affording perpetual change and twinkling and reflections-more-
over, by its sleepy murmur, soothing all the dwellers there-
I
ĭ
I
## p. 2020 (#214) ###########################################
2020
RICHARD DODDRIDGE BLACKMORE
this, and the snugness of the position, walled with rock and
spread with herbage, made it look in the quiet moonlight like a
little paradise. And to think of all the inmates there sleeping
with good consciences, having plied their useful trade of making
others work for them, enjoying life without much labor, yet with
great renown!
Master Charlie went down the village, and I followed him
carefully, keeping as much as possible in the shadowy places,
and watching the windows of every house, lest any light should
be burning. As I passed Sir Ensor's house, my heart leaped up,
for I spied a window, higher than the rest above the ground,
and with a faint light moving. This could hardly fail to be the
room wherein my darling lay; for here that impudent young fel-
low had gazed while he was whistling. And here my courage
grew tenfold, and my spirit feared no evil; for lo! if Lorna
had been surrendered to that scoundrel Carver, she would not
have been at her grandfather's house, but in Carver's accursed
dwelling.
Warm with this idea, I hurried after Charleworth Doone,
being resolved not to harm him now, unless my own life required
it. And while I watched from behind a tree, the door of the
furthest house was opened; and, sure enough, it was Carver's
self, who stood bareheaded, and half undressed, in the doorway.
I could see his great black chest and arms, by the light of the
lamp he bore.
"Who wants me this time of night? " he grumbled, in a deep,
gruff voice; "any young scamp prowling after the maids shall
have sore bones for his trouble. "
"All the fair maids are for thee, are they, Master Carver? "
Charlie answered, laughing; "we young scamps must be well
content with coarser stuff than thou wouldst have. "
"Would have? Ay, and will have," the great beast muttered,
angrily. "I bide my time; but not very long. Only one word
for thy good, Charlie. I will fling thee senseless into the river
if ever I catch thy girl-face here again. "
<< Mayhap, Master Carver, it is more than thou couldst do.
But I will not keep thee; thou art not pleasant company to-night.
All I want is a light for my lantern, and a glass of schnapps, if
thou hast it. "
"What is become of thy light, then? Good for thee I am
not on duty. "
## p. 2021 (#215) ###########################################
RICHARD DODDRIDGE BLACKMORE
2021
"A great owl flew between me and Phelps as we watched
beside the culverin, and so scared was he at our fierce bright
eyes that he fell and knocked the light out. "
"Likely tale, or likely lie, Charles! We will have the truth
to-morrow. Here, take thy light, and be gone with thee. All
virtuous men are in bed now. "
"Then so will I be; and why art thou not? Ha! have I
earned my schnapps now? "
"If thou hast, thou hast paid a bad debt! there is too much
in thee already. Be off! my patience is done with. "
Then he slammed the door in the young man's face, having
kindled his lantern by this time; and Charlie went up the watch-
place again, muttering, as he passed me, "Bad lookout for all of
us when that surly old beast is captain. No gentle blood in him,
no hospitality, not even pleasant language, nor a good new oath
in his frowzy pate! I've a mind to cut the whole of it; and but
for the girls I would do so. "
My heart was in my mouth, as they say, when I stood in the
shade by Lorna's window, and whispered her name gently. The
house was of one story only, as the others were, with pine-ends
standing forth the stone, and only two rough windows upon that
western side of it, and perhaps those two were Lorna's. The
Doones had been their own builders, for no one should know
their ins and outs; and of course their work was clumsy. As for
their windows, they stole them mostly from the houses round
about. But though the window was not very close, I might have
whispered long enough before she would have answered me,
frightened as she was, no doubt, by many a rude overture. And
I durst not speak aloud, because I saw another watchman posted
on the western cliff, and commanding all the valley. And now
this man (having no companion for drinking or for gambling)
espied me against the wall of the house, and advanced to the
brink, and challenged me.
"Who are you there? Answer. One, two, three and I fire at
thee. "
The nozzle of his gun was pointed full upon me, as I could
see, with the moonlight striking on the barrel; he was not more.
than fifty yards off, and now he began to reckon. Being almost
desperate about it, I began to whistle, wondering how far I
should get before I lost my windpipe; and as luck would have
it, my lips fell into that strange tune I had practiced last; the
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2022
RICHARD DODDRIDGE BLACKMORE
one I had heard from Charlie. My mouth would hardly frame
the notes, being parched with terror; but to my surprise, the
man fell back, dropped his gun, and saluted. Oh, sweetest of all
sweet melodies!
That tune was Carver Doone's passport (as I heard long after-
ward), which Charleworth Doone had imitated, for decoy of
Lorna. The sentinel took me for that vile Carver, who was like
enough to be prowling there for private talk with Lorna, but
not very likely to shout forth his name, if it might be avoided.
The watchman, perceiving the danger, perhaps, of intruding on
Carver's privacy, not only retired along the cliff, but withdrew
himself to good distance.
Meanwhile he had done me the kindest service; for Lorna
came to the window at once to see what the cause of the shout
was, and drew back the curtain timidly. Then she opened the
rough lattice, and then she watched the cliff and trees, and then
she sighed very sadly.
"O Lorna, don't you know me? " I whispered from the side,
being afraid of startling her by appearing over-suddenly.
Quick though she always was of thought, she knew me not
from my whisper, and was shutting the window hastily, when I
caught it back and showed myself.
"John! " she cried, yet with sense enough not to speak aloud;
"oh, you must be mad, John! "
"As mad as a March hare," said I, "without any news of my
darling. You knew I would come of course you did. "
A WEDDING AND A REVENGE
From Lorna Doone'
Η
OWEVER humble I might be, no one knowing anything of our
part of the country would for a moment doubt that now
here was a great to-do and talk of John Ridd and his
wedding. The fierce fight with the Doones so lately, and my
leading of the combat (though I fought not more than need be),
and the vanishing of Sir Counselor, and the galloping madness
of Carver, and the religious fear of the women that this last was
gone to hell,- for he himself had declared that his aim, while he
cut through the yeomanry,- also their remorse that he should
## p. 2023 (#217) ###########################################
RICHARD DODDRIDGE BLACKMORE
2023
have been made to go thither, with all his children left behind-
these things, I say (if ever I can again contrive to say any-
thing), had led to the broadest excitement about my wedding of
Lorna. We heard that people meant to come from more than
thirty miles around, upon excuse of seeing my stature and Lor-
na's beauty, but in good truth out of sheer curiosity and the love
of meddling.
Our clerk had given notice that not a man should come inside
the door of his church without shilling fee, and women (as
sure to see twice as much) must every one pay two shillings.
I thought this wrong; and as churchwarden, begged that the
money might be paid into mine own hands when taken. But
the clerk said that was against all law; and he had orders from
the parson to pay it to him without any delay. So, as I always
obey the parson when I care not much about a thing, I let them
have it their own way, though feeling inclined to believe some-
times that I ought to have some of the money.
Dear mother arranged all the ins and outs of the way in
which it was to be done; and Annie and Lizzie, and all the
Snowes, and even Ruth Huckaback (who was there, after great
persuasion), made such a sweeping of dresses that I scarcely
knew where to place my feet, and longed for a staff to put by
their gowns.
Then Lorna came out of a pew half-way, in a
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, yet took in all her beauty. She was in a fright, no doubt,
but nobody should see it; whereas I said (to myself, at least), “I
will go through it like a grave-digger. "
Lorna's dress was of pure white, clouded with faint lavender
(for the sake of the old Earl Brandir), and as simple as need be,
except for perfect loveliness. I was afraid to look at her, as I
said before, except when each of us said, "I will;" and then
each dwelt upon the other.
It is impossible for any who have not loved as I have to con-
ceive my joy and pride when, after ring and all was done, and
the parson had blessed us, Lorna turned to look at me with her
glances of subtle fun subdued by this great act.
Her eyes, which none on earth may ever equal or compare
with, told me such a depth of comfort, yet awaiting further com-
mune, that I was almost amazed, thoroughly as I knew them.
## p. 2024 (#218) ###########################################
RICHARD DODDRIDGE BLACKMORE
2024
Darling eyes, the sweetest eyes, the loveliest, the most loving
eyes the sound of a shot rang through the church, and those
eyes were filled with death.
-
Lorna fell across my knees when I was going to kiss her, as
the bridegroom is allowed to do, and encouraged, if he needs it:
a flood of blood came out upon the yellow wood of the altar
steps; and at my feet lay Lorna, trying to tell me some last mes-
sage out of her faithful eyes. I lifted her up, and petted her,
and coaxed her, but it was no good; the only sign of life remain-
ing was a spurt of bright red blood.
me
-
Some men know what things befall them in the supreme
time of their life- - far above the time of death but to
comes back as a hazy dream, without any knowledge in it, what
I did, or felt, or thought, with my wife's arms flagging, flagging,
around my neck, as I raised her up, and softly put them there.
She sighed a long sigh on my breast, for her last farewell to
life, and then she grew so cold, and cold, that I asked the time
of year.
It was now Whit-Tuesday, and the lilacs all in blossom; and
why I thought of 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, and looked, and our white lilacs
were beautiful. Then I laid my wife in my mother's arms, and
begging that no one would make a noise, went forth for my
―
revenge.
Of course I knew who had done it. There was but one man
in the world, or at any rate in our part of it, who could have
done such a thing-such a thing. I use no harsher word about
it, while I leaped upon our best horse, with bridle, but no sad-
dle, and set the head of Kickums toward the course now pointed
out to me. Who showed me the course I cannot tell. I only
know that I took it. And the men fell back before me.
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 the bride), I went forth just to find out this-
whether in this world there be or be not a God of justice.
With my vicious horse at a furious speed, I came up Black
Barrow Down, directed by some shout of men, which seemed to
me but a whisper. And there, about a furlong before me, rode
a man on a great black horse, and I knew that man was Carver
Doone.
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RICHARD DODDRIDGE BLACKMORE
2025
"Your life, or mine," I said to myself; "as the will of God
may be.
But we 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 with a gun-if he had time to load again, after
shooting my Lorna or at any rate with pistols, and a horse-
man's sword as well. Nevertheless, I had no more doubt of
killing the man before me than a cook has of spitting a headless
fowl.
-
Sometimes seeing no ground beneath me, and sometimes heed-
ing every leaf, and the crossing of the grass-blades, I followed
over the long moor, reckless whether seen or not. But only
once the other man turned round and looked back again, and
then I was beside a rock, with a reedy swamp behind me.
Although he was so far before me, and riding as hard as
ride he might, I saw that he had something on the horse in
front of him; something which needed care, and stopped him
from looking backward. In the whirling of my wits, I fancied
first that this was Lorna; until the scene I had been through
fell across hot brain and heart, like the drop at the close of a
tragedy. Rushing there through crag and quag at utmost speed
of a maddened 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 as Carver entered it, he turned round, and beheld
me not a hundred yards behind; and I saw that he was bearing
his child, little Ensie, before him. 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 slung carbine had received no bullet since the one that
pierced Lorna. And a cry of triumph rose from the black
depths of my heart. What cared I for 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 I knew that
the black steed in front, if he breasted the steep ascent, where
the track divided, must be in our reach at once.
## p. 2026 (#220) ###########################################
2026
RICHARD DODDRIDGE BLACKMORE
His rider knew this, and having no room in the rocky chan
nel to turn and fire, drew rein at the crossways sharply, and
plunged into the black ravine leading to the Wizard's Slough.
"Is it so? " I said to myself, with brain and head cold as iron:
"though the foul fiend come from the slough 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 to approach him, for he knew not where he was;
and his low disdainful laugh came back. "Laugh he who wins,"
thought I.
A gnarled and half-starved oak, as stubborn as my own re-
solve, and smitten by some storm of old, hung from the crag
above me. Rising from my horse's back, although I had no stir-
rups, I caught a limb, and tore it (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 would have turned upon me. But instead of
that, he again rode on, hoping to find a way round the side.
Now there is a way between cliff and slough for those who
know the ground thoroughly, or have time enough to search it;
but for him there was no road, and he lost some time in seek-
ing it. Upon this he made up his mind; and wheeling, fired,
and then rode at me.
His bullet struck me somewhere, but I took no heed of that.
Fearing only his escape, I laid my horse across the way, and
with the limb of oak struck full on the forehead his charging
steed. Ere the slash of the sword came nigh me, man and
horse rolled over and well-nigh bore my own horse 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 little boy ran to me, clasped my
leg, and looked up at me, and the terror in his eyes made me
almost fear myself.
"Ensie dear," I said quite gently, grieving that he should see
his wicked father killed, "run up yonder round the corner, and
## p. 2027 (#221) ###########################################
RICHARD DODDRIDGE BLACKMORE
2027
try to find a pretty bunch of bluebells for the lady. " The child
obeyed me, hanging back, and looking back, and then laughing,
while I prepared for business. There and then I might have
killed mine enemy with a single blow while he lay unconscious,
but it would have been foul play.
With a sullen and black scowl, the Carver gathered his
mighty limbs and arose, 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: “I have punished you enough for most of your imper-
tinence. For the rest I forgive 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, but to make his blood leap up. I would not sully my
tongue by speaking to a man like this.
There was a level space of sward between us and the slough.
With the courtesy derived from London, and the procession I
had seen, to this place I led him. And that he might breathe
himself, and have every fibre cool, and every muscle ready, my
hold upon his coat I loosed, and left him to begin with me
whenever he thought proper.
I think he felt that his time was come. I think he knew
from my knitted muscles, and the firm arch of my breast, and
the way in which I stood, but most of all from my stern blue
eyes, that he had found his master. At any rate, a paleness
came, an ashy paleness on his cheeks, and the 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
stretched forth my left hand as I do to a weaker antagonist, and
I let him have the hug of me. But in this I was too generous;
having forgotten my pistol-wound, and the cracking of one of my
short lower ribs. Carver Doone caught me round the waist with
such a grip as never yet had been laid upon me.
I heard my rib go; I grasped his arm and tore the muscle
out of it* (as the string comes out of an orange); then I took
him by the throat, which is not allowed in wrestling, but he had
snatched at mine; and now was no time of dalliance. In vain he
* A far more terrible clutch than this is handed down, to weaker ages, of
the great John Ridd. - ED. L. D.
## p. 2028 (#222) ###########################################
2028
RICHARD DODDRIDGE BLACKMORE
tugged and strained and writhed, dashed his bleeding fist into
my face, and flung himself on me with gnashing jaws. Beneath
the iron of my strength-for God that day was with me - I had
him helpless in two minutes, and his fiery eyes lolled out.
"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, and thank God for it; and go thy way, and
repent thyself. "
It was all too late. Even if he had yielded in his ravening
frenzy for his 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 too late.
The black bog had him by the feet; the sucking of the ground
drew on him, like the thirsty lips of death. In our fury we had
heeded neither wet nor dry, nor thought of earth beneath us.
I myself might scarcely leap, with the last spring of o'erlabored
legs, from the engulfing grave of slime. He fell back, with his
swarthy breast (from which my grip had rent all clothing), like
a hummock of bog-oak, standing out the quagmire; and then he
tossed his arms to heaven, and they were black to the elbow,
and the glare of his eyes was ghastly. I could only gaze and
pant; for my strength was no more than an infant's from the
fury and the horror. Scarcely could I turn away, while, joint by
joint, he sank from sight.
―
LANDING THE TROUT
From Alice Lorraine'
HE trout knew nothing of all this. They had not tasted a
Tworm for a month, except when a sod of the bank fell in,
through cracks of the sun, and the way cold water has of
licking upward. And even the flies had no flavor at all; when
they fell on the water, they fell flat, and on the palate they
tasted hot, even under the bushes.
Hilary followed a path through the meadows, with the calm.
bright sunset casting its shadow over the shorn grass, or up in
the hedge-road, or on the brown banks where the drought had
struck. On his back he carried a fishing-basket, containing his
bits of refreshment; and in his right hand a short springy rod,
the absent sailor's favorite. After long council with Mabel, he
## p. 2029 (#223) ###########################################
RICHARD DODDRIDGE BLACKMORE
2029
had made up his mind to walk up-stream as far as the spot
where two brooks met, and formed body enough for a fly flipped
in very carefully to sail downward. Here he began, and the
creak of his reel and the swish of his rod were music to him,
after the whirl of London life.
The brook was as bright as the best cut-glass, and the twinkles
of its shifting facets only made it seem more clear. It twisted
about a little, here and there; and the brink was fringed now
and then with something, a clump of loosestrife, a tuft of avens,
or a bed of flowering water-cress, or any other of the many
plants that wash and look into the water. But the trout, the
main object in view, were most objectionably too much in view.
They scudded up the brook at the shadow of a hair, or even the
tremble of a blade of grass; and no pacific assurance could make
them even stop to be reasoned with. "This won't do," said
Hilary, who very often talked to himself, in lack of a better
comrade. "I call this very hard upon me. The beggars won't
rise till it is quite dark. I must have the interdict off my tobacco,
if this sort of thing is to go on. How I should enjoy a pipe just
now! I may just as well sit on a gate and think. No, hang it,
I hate thinking now.
There are troubles hanging over me, as
sure as the tail of that comet grows. How I detest that comet!
No wonder the fish won't rise. But if I have to strip, and tickle
them in the dark, I won't go back without some for her. "
He was lucky enough to escape the weight of such horrible
poaching upon his conscience; for suddenly to his ears was borne
the most melodious of all sounds, the flop of a heavy fish sweetly.
jumping after some excellent fly or grub.
"Ha, my friend! " cried Hilary, "so you are up for your
supper, are you? I myself will awake right early. Still I behold
the ring you made. If my right hand forget not its cunning,
yon shall form your next ring in the frying-pan. "
He gave that fish a little time to think of the beauty of that
mouthful, and get ready for another, the while he was putting a
white moth on, in lieu of his blue upright. He kept the griz-
zled palmer still for tail-fly, and he tried his knots, for he knew
that this trout was a Triton.
Then, with a delicate sidling and stooping, known only to
them that fish for trout in very bright water of the summer-
time, compared with which art the coarse work of the salmon-
fisher is as that of a scene-painter to Mr. Holman Hunt's—with,
## p. 2030 (#224) ###########################################
2030
RICHARD DODDRIDGE BLACKMORE
or in, or by, a careful manner, not to be described to those who
have never studied it, Hilary won access of the water, without
any doubt in the mind of the fish concerning the prudence of
appetite. Then he flipped his short collar in, not with a cast,
but a spring of the rod, and let his flies go quietly down a
sharpish run into that good trout's hole. The worthy trout
looked at them both, and thought; for he had his own favorite
spot for watching the world go by, as the rest of us have. So
he let the grizzled palmer pass, within an inch of his upper lip;
for it struck him that the tail turned up in a manner not wholly
natural, or at any rate unwholesome. He looked at the white
moth also, and thought that he had never seen one at all like it.
So he went down under his root again, hugging himself upon
his wisdom, never moving a fin, but oaring and helming his
plump, spotted sides with his tail.
"Upon my word, it is too bad," said Hilary, after three beau-
tiful throws, and exquisite management down-stream; "every-
thing Kentish beats me hollow. Now, if that had been one of
our trout, I would have laid my life upon catching him. One
more throw, however. How would it be if I sunk my flies?
That fellow is worth some patience. "
While he was speaking, his flies alit on the glassy ripple, like
gnats in their love-dance; and then by a turn of the wrist, he
played them just below the surface, and let them go gliding
down the stickle, into the shelfy nook of shadow where the big
trout hovered. Under the surface, floating thus, with the check
of ductile influence, the two flies spread their wings and quiv-
ered, like a centiplume moth in a spider's web. Still the old
trout, calmly oaring, looked at them both suspiciously. Why
should the same flies come so often, and why should they have
such crooked tails, and could he be sure that he did not spy the
shadow of a human hat about twelve yards up the water? Re-
volving these things, he might have lived to a venerable age
but for that noble ambition to teach, which is fatal to even the
wisest. A young fish, an insolent whipper-snapper, jumped in
his babyish way at the palmer, and missed it through over-eager-
"I'll show you the way to catch a fly," said the big trout
to him: "
open your mouth like this, my son.
With that he bolted the palmer, and threw up his tail, and
turned to go home again. Alas! his sweet home now shall
know him no more. For suddenly he was surprised by a most
ness.
>>>
## p. 2031 (#225) ###########################################
RICHARD DODDRIDGE BLACKMORE
2031
disagreeable sense of grittiness, and then a keen stab in the
roof of his mouth. He jumped, in his wrath, a foot out of the
water, and then heavily plunged to the depths of his hole.
"You've got it, my friend," cried Hilary, in a tingle of fine
emotions; "I hope the sailor's knots are tied with professional
skill and care. You are a big one, and a clever one too. It is
much if I ever land you. No net, or gaff, or anything. I only
hope that there are no stakes here. Ah, there you go! Now
comes the tug. ”
Away went the big trout down the stream, at a pace very
hard to exaggerate, and after him rushed Hilary, knowing that
his line was rather short, and that if it ran out, all was over.
Keeping his eyes on the water only, and the headlong speed of
the fugitive, headlong over a stake he fell, and took a deep
wound from another stake. Scarcely feeling it, up he jumped,
lifting his rod, which had fallen flat, and fearing to find no
strain on it. "Aha, he is not gone yet! " he cried, as the rod
bowed like a springle-bow.
He was now a good hundred yards down the brook from the
corner where the fight began. Through his swiftness of foot,
and good management, the fish had never been able to tighten
the line beyond yield of endurance. The bank had been free
from bushes, or haply no skill could have saved him; but now
they were come to a corner where a nut-bush quite overhung
the stream.
"I am done for now," said the fisherman; "the villain knows
too well what he is about. Here ends this adventure. "
Full though he was of despair, he jumped anyhow into the
water, kept the point of his rod close down, reeled up a little
as the fish felt weaker, and just cleared the drop of the hazel
boughs. The water flapped into the pockets of his coat, and he
saw red streaks flow downward. And then he plunged out to an
open reach of shallow water and gravel slope.
"I ought to have you now," he said, "though nobody knows
what a rogue you are; and a pretty dance you have led me! »
Doubting the strength of his tackle to lift even the dead
weight of the fish, and much more to meet his despairing rally,
he happily saw a little shallow gut, or back-water, where a small
spring ran out. Into this by a dexterous turn he rather led
than pulled the fish, who was ready to rest for a minute or two;
then he stuck his rod into the bank, ran down stream, and with
## p. 2032 (#226) ###########################################
2032
RICHARD DODDRIDGE BLACKMORE
his hat in both hands appeared at the only exit from the gut.
It was all up now with the monarch of the brook. As he
skipped and jumped, with his rich yellow belly, and chaste sil-
ver sides, in the green of the grass, joy and glory of the highest
merit, and gratitude, glowed in the heart of Lorraine. "Two and
three quarters you must weigh. And at your very best you are!
How small your head is! And how bright your spots are! " he
cried, as he gave him the stroke of grace. "You really have
been a brave and fine fellow. I hope they will know how to
fry you "
While he cut his fly out of this grand trout's mouth, he felt
for the first time a pain in his knee, where the point of the
stake had entered it. Under the buckle of his breeches blood
was soaking away inside his gaiters; and then he saw how he
had dyed the water. After washing the wound and binding it
with dock-leaves and a handkerchief, he followed the stream
through a few more meadows, for the fish began to sport pretty
well as the gloom of the evening deepened; so that by the time.
the gables of the old farm-house appeared, by the light of a
young moon, and the comet, Lorraine had a dozen more trout
in his basket, silvery-sided and handsome fellows, though none
of them over a pound perhaps, except his first and redoubtable
captive.
A DANE IN THE DIKE
From Mary Anerley'
N
[ow, whether spy-glass had been used by any watchful mar-
iner, or whether only blind chance willed it, sure it is that
one fine morning Mary met with somebody. And this was
the more remarkable, when people came to think of it, because
it was only the night before that her mother had almost said as
much.
"Ye munna gaw doon to t' sea be yersell," Mistress Anerley
said to her daughter: "happen ye mought be one too many. "
Master Anerley's wife had been at "boarding-school," as
far south as Suffolk, and could speak the very best of south-
ern English (like her daughter Mary) upon polite occasion. But
family cares and farm-house life had partly cured her of her
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RICHARD DODDRIDGE BLACKMORE
2033
education, and from troubles of distant speech she had returned
to the ease of her native dialect.
"And if I go not to the sea by myself," asked Mary, with
natural logic, "why, who is there now to go with me? " She was
thinking of her sadly missed comrade, Jack.
"Happen some day, perhaps, one too many. "
The maiden was almost too innocent to blush; but her father
took her part as usual.
"The little lass sall gaw doon," he said, "wheniver sha likes. ”
And so she went down the next morning.
A thousand years ago the Dane's Dike must have been a very
grand intrenchment, and a thousand years ere that perhaps it was
still grander; for learned men say that it was a British work,
wrought out before the Danes had ever learned to build a ship.
Whatever, however, may be argued about that, the wise and the
witless do agree about one thing-the stronghold inside it had
been held by Danes, while severed by the Dike from inland parts,
and these Danes made a good colony of their own, and left to
their descendants distinct speech and manners, some traces of
which are existing even now. The Dike, extending from the
rough North Sea to the calmer waters of Bridlington Bay, is
nothing more than a deep dry trench, skillfully following the
hollows of the ground, and cutting off Flamborough Head and a
solid cantle of high land from the rest of Yorkshire. The corner
so intercepted used to be and is still called "Little Denmark";
and the in-dwellers feel a large contempt for all their outer
neighbors. And this is sad, because Anerley Farm lies wholly
outside of the Dike, which for a long crooked distance serves as
its eastern boundary.
Upon the morning of the self-same day that saw Mr. Jelli-
corse set forth upon his return from Scargate Hall, armed with
instructions to defy the devil, and to keep his discovery quiet-
upon a lovely August morning of the first year of a new cen-
tury, Mary Anerley, blithe and gay, came riding down the grassy
hollow of this ancient Dane's Dike. This was her shortest way
to the sea, and the tide would suit (if she could only catch it)
for a take of shrimps, and perhaps even prawns, in time for her
father's breakfast. And not to lose this, she arose right early,
and rousing Lord Keppel, set forth for the spot where she kept
her net covered with sea-weed. The sun, though up and brisk
already upon sea and foreland, had not found time to rout the
shadows skulking in the dingles. But even here, where sap of
IV-128
## p. 2034 (#228) ###########################################
2034
RICHARD DODDRIDGE BLACKMORE
time had breached the turfy ramparts, the hover of the dew-mist
passed away, and the steady light was unfolded. .
For the season was early August still, with beautiful weather
come at last; and the green world seemed to stand on tiptoe to
make the extraordinary acquaintance of the sun. Humble plants
which had long lain flat stood up with a sense of casting some-
thing off; and the damp heavy trunks which had trickled for a
twelvemonth, or been only sponged with moss, were hailing the
fresher light with keener lines and dove-colored tints upon their
smoother boles. Then, conquering the barrier of the eastern
land crest, rose the glorious sun himself, strewing before him
trees and crags in long steep shadows down the hill. Then the
sloping rays, through furze and brush-land, kindling the sparkles
of the dew, descended to the brink of the Dike, and scorning to
halt at petty obstacles, with a hundred golden hurdles bridged it
wherever any opening was.
Under this luminous span, or through it where the crossing
gullies ran, Mary Anerley rode at leisure, allowing her pony to
choose his pace. That privilege he had long secured, in right
of age, and wisdom, and remarkable force of character. Con-
sidering his time of life, he looked well and sleek, and almost
sprightly; and so, without any reservation, did his gentle and
graceful rider. The maiden looked well in a place like that, as
indeed in almost any place; but now she especially set off the
color of things, and was set off by them. For instance, how
could the silver of the dew-cloud, and golden weft of sunrise,
playing through the dapples of a partly wooded glen, do better
(in the matter of variety) than frame a pretty moving figure in
a pink checked frock, with a skirt of russet murrey, and a bright
brown hat? Not that the hat itself was bright, even under the
kiss of sunshine, simply having seen already too much of the
sun, but rather that its early lustre seemed to be revived by a
sense of the happy position it was in; the clustering hair and
the bright eyes beneath it answering the sunny dance of life
and light. Many a handsomer face, no doubt, more perfect,
grand and lofty, received-at least if it was out of bed-the
greeting of that morning sun; but scarcely any prettier one, or
kinder, or more pleasant, so gentle without being weak, so good-
tempered without looking void of all temper at all.
Suddenly the beauty of the time and place was broken by
sharp, angry sound. Bang! bang! came the roar of muskets
fired from the shore at the mouth of the Dike, and echoing up
## p. 2035 (#229) ###########################################
RICHARD DODDRIDGE BLACKMORE
2035
the winding glen. At the first report the girl, though startled,
was not greatly frightened; for the sound was common enough in
the week when those most gallant volunteers entitled the "York-
shire Invincibles" came down for their annual practice of skilled
gunnery against the French. Their habit was to bring down a
red cock, and tether him against a chalky cliff, and then vie with
one another in shooting at him. The same cock had tested their
skill for three summers, but failed hitherto to attest it, prefer-
ring to return in a hamper to his hens, with a story of moving
adventures.
Mary had watched those Invincibles sometimes from a respect-
ful distance, and therefore felt sure (when she began to think)
that she had not them to thank for this little scare.
For they
always slept soundly in the first watch of the morning; and even
supposing they had jumped up with nightmare, where was the
jubilant crow of the cock? For the cock, being almost as invin-
cible as they were, never could deny himself the glory of a
crow when the bullet came into his neighborhood. He replied to
every volley with an elevated comb, and a flapping of his wings,
and a clarion peal, which rang along the foreshore ere the musket
roar died out. But before the girl had time to ponder what it
was, or wherefore, round the corner came somebody, running
very swiftly.
In a moment Mary saw that this man had been shot at, and
was making for his life away; and to give him every chance she
jerked her pony aside, and called and beckoned; and without a
word he flew to her. Words were beyond him, if his breath
should come back, and he seemed to have no time to wait for
that. He had outstripped the wind, and his own wind, by his
speed.
"Poor man! " cried Mary Anerley, "what a hurry you are in!
But I suppose you cannot help it. Are they shooting at you? "
The runaway nodded, for he could not spare a breath, but
was deeply inhaling for another start, and could not even bow
without hindrance. But to show that he had manners, he took
off his hat. Then he clapped it on his head and set off again.
"Come back! " cried the maid; "I can show you a place. I
can hide you from your enemies forever. "
The young fellow stopped. He was come to that pitch of
exhaustion in which a man scarcely cares whether he is killed
or dies. And his face showed not a sign of fear.
## p. 2036 (#230) ###########################################
2036
RICHARD DODDRIDGE BLACKMORE
"Look! That little hole-
once, and this cloth over you! "
He snatched it, and was gone, like the darting lizard, up a
little puckering side issue of the Dike, at the very same instant
that three broad figures and a long one appeared at the lip of
the mouth. The quick-witted girl rode on to meet them, to give
the poor fugitive time to get into his hole and draw the brown
skirt over him. The dazzle of the sun, pouring over the crest,
made the hollow a twinkling obscurity; and the cloth was just
in keeping with the dead stuff around. The three broad men,
with heavy fusils cocked, came up from the sea-mouth of the
Dike, steadily panting, and running steadily with a long-enduring
stride. Behind them a tall bony man with a cutlass was swing-
ing it high in the air, and limping, and swearing with great
velocity.
—
up there-by the fern. Up at
"Coast-riders," thought Mary, "and he a free-trader [smug.
gler]! Four against one is cowardice. "
"Halt! " cried the tall man, while the rest were running past
her; "halt! ground arms; never scare young ladies. " Then he
flourished his hat, with a grand bow to Mary.
"Fair young
Mistress Anerley, I fear we spoil your ride. But his Majesty's
duty must be done. Hats off, fellows, at the name of your king!
Mary, my dear, the most daring villain, the devil's own son, has
just run up here - scarcely two minutes-you must have seen
him. Wait a minute; tell no lies- excuse me, I mean fibs.
Your father is the right sort. He hates those scoundrels. In
the name of his Majesty, which way is he gone? "
"Was it -oh, was it a man, if you please? Captain Carro-
way, don't say so. "
You are
―
"A man? Is it likely that we shot at a woman?
trifling. It will be the worse for you. Forgive me - but we
are in such a hurry. Whoa! whoa! pony. "
"You always used to be so polite, sir, that you quite surprise
me. And those guns look so dreadful! My father would be
quite astonished to see me not even allowed to go down to the
sea, but hurried back here, as if the French had landed. ”
"How can I help it, if your pony runs away so? " For Mary
all this time had been cleverly contriving to increase and exag-
gerate her pony's fear, and so brought the gunners for a long
way up the Dike, without giving them any time to spy at all
about. She knew that this was wicked from a loyal point of
-
## p. 2037 (#231) ###########################################
RICHARD DODDRIDGE BLACKMORE
2037
view; not a bit the less she did it. "What a troublesome little
horse it is! " she cried. "O Captain Carroway, hold him just a
moment. I will jump down, and then you can jump up, and
ride after all his Majesty's enemies. "
"The Lord forbid! He slews all out of gear, like a carronade
with rotten lashings. If I boarded him, how could I get out of
his way? No, no, my dear, brace him up sharp, and bear clear. "
"But you wanted to know about some enemy, captain. An
enemy as bad as my poor Lord Keppel? "
«< Mary, my dear, the very biggest villain! A hundred golden
guineas on his head, and half for you. Think of your father,
my dear, and Sunday gowns. And you must have a young man
by-and-by, you know-such a beautiful maid as you are. And
you might get a leather purse, and give it to him. Mary, on
your duty, now? »
«< Captain, you drive me so, what can I say? I cannot bear
the thought of betraying anybody. "
"Of course not, Mary dear; nobody asks you. He must be
half a mile off by this time.
