CHAPTER XLIV

BROUGHT HOME AT LAST

[Illustration: 379.jpg Illustrated Capital]

To my great delight I found that the weather, not often friendly to

lovers, and lately seeming so hostile, had in the most important matter

done me a signal service. For when I had promised to take my love from

the power of those wretches, the only way of escape apparent lay

through the main Doone-gate. For though I might climb the cliffs myself,

especially with the snow to aid me, I durst not try to fetch Lorna up

them, even if she were not half-starved, as well as partly frozen;

and as for Gwenny's door, as we called it (that is to say, the little

entrance from the wooded hollow), it was snowed up long ago to the level

of the hills around. Therefore I was at my wit's end how to get them

out; the passage by the Doone-gate being long, and dark, and difficult,

and leading to such a weary circuit among the snowy moors and hills.

But now, being homeward-bound by the shortest possible track, I slipped

along between the bonfire and the boundary cliffs, where I found a caved

way of snow behind a sort of avalanche: so that if the Doones had been

keeping watch (which they were not doing, but revelling), they could

scarcely have discovered me. And when I came to my old ascent, where I

had often scaled the cliff and made across the mountains, it struck me

that I would just have a look at my first and painful entrance, to wit,

the water-slide. I never for a moment imagined that this could help me

now; for I never had dared to descend it, even in the finest weather;

still I had a curiosity to know what my old friend was like, with so

much snow upon him. But, to my very great surprise, there was scarcely

any snow there at all, though plenty curling high overhead from the

cliff, like bolsters over it. Probably the sweeping of the north-east

wind up the narrow chasm had kept the showers from blocking it,

although the water had no power under the bitter grip of frost. All my

water-slide was now less a slide than path of ice; furrowed where the

waters ran over fluted ridges; seamed where wind had tossed and combed

them, even while congealing; and crossed with little steps wherever the

freezing torrent lingered. And here and there the ice was fibred with

the trail of sludge-weed, slanting from the side, and matted, so as to

make resting-place.

Lo it was easy track and channel, as if for the very purpose made, down

which I could guide my sledge with Lorna sitting in it. There were only

two things to be feared; one lest the rolls of snow above should fall in

and bury us; the other lest we should rush too fast, and so be carried

headlong into the black whirlpool at the bottom, the middle of which was

still unfrozen, and looking more horrible by the contrast. Against this

danger I made provision, by fixing a stout bar across; but of the other

we must take our chance, and trust ourselves to Providence.

I hastened home at my utmost speed, and told my mother for God's sake

to keep the house up till my return, and to have plenty of fire blazing,

and plenty of water boiling, and food enough hot for a dozen people, and

the best bed aired with the warming-pan. Dear mother smiled softly at my

excitement, though her own was not much less, I am sure, and enhanced by

sore anxiety. Then I gave very strict directions to Annie, and praised

her a little, and kissed her; and I even endeavoured to flatter Eliza,

lest she should be disagreeable.

After this I took some brandy, both within and about me; the former,

because I had sharp work to do; and the latter in fear of whatever might

happen, in such great cold, to my comrades. Also I carried some other

provisions, grieving much at their coldness: and then I went to the

upper linhay, and took our new light pony-sledd, which had been made

almost as much for pleasure as for business; though God only knows how

our girls could have found any pleasure in bumping along so. On the

snow, however, it ran as sweetly as if it had been made for it; yet I

durst not take the pony with it; in the first place, because his hoofs

would break through the ever-shifting surface of the light and piling

snow; and secondly, because these ponies, coming from the forest, have a

dreadful trick of neighing, and most of all in frosty weather.

Therefore I girded my own body with a dozen turns of hay-rope, twisting

both the ends in under at the bottom of my breast, and winding the hay

on the skew a little, that the hempen thong might not slip between, and

so cut me in the drawing. I put a good piece of spare rope in the sledd,

and the cross-seat with the back to it, which was stuffed with our

own wool, as well as two or three fur coats; and then, just as I was

starting, out came Annie, in spite of the cold, panting for fear of

missing me, and with nothing on her head, but a lanthorn in one hand.

“Oh, John, here is the most wonderful thing! Mother has never shown it

before; and I can't think how she could make up her mind. She had

gotten it in a great well of a cupboard, with camphor, and spirits, and

lavender. Lizzie says it is a most magnificent sealskin cloak, worth

fifty pounds, or a farthing.”

“At any rate it is soft and warm,” said I, very calmly flinging it into

the bottom of the sledd. “Tell mother I will put it over Lorna's feet.”

“Lorna's feet! Oh, you great fool,” cried Annie, for the first time

reviling me; “over her shoulders; and be proud, you very stupid John.”

“It is not good enough for her feet,” I answered, with strong emphasis;

“but don't tell mother I said so, Annie. Only thank her very kindly.”

With that I drew my traces hard, and set my ashen staff into the snow,

and struck out with my best foot foremost (the best one at snow-shoes, I

mean), and the sledd came after me as lightly as a dog might follow; and

Annie, with the lanthorn, seemed to be left behind and waiting like a

pretty lamp-post.

The full moon rose as bright behind me as a paten of pure silver,

casting on the snow long shadows of the few things left above, burdened

rock, and shaggy foreland, and the labouring trees. In the great white

desolation, distance was a mocking vision; hills looked nigh, and

valleys far; when hills were far and valleys nigh. And the misty breath

of frost, piercing through the ribs of rock, striking to the pith of

trees, creeping to the heart of man, lay along the hollow places, like a

serpent sloughing. Even as my own gaunt shadow (travestied as if I were

the moonlight's daddy-longlegs), went before me down the slope; even

I, the shadow's master, who had tried in vain to cough, when coughing

brought good liquorice, felt a pressure on my bosom, and a husking in my

throat.

However, I went on quietly, and at a very tidy speed; being only too

thankful that the snow had ceased, and no wind as yet arisen. And from

the ring of low white vapour girding all the verge of sky, and from the

rosy blue above, and the shafts of starlight set upon a quivering bow,

as well as from the moon itself and the light behind it, having learned

the signs of frost from its bitter twinges, I knew that we should have

a night as keen as ever England felt. Nevertheless, I had work enough to

keep me warm if I managed it. The question was, could I contrive to save

my darling from it?

Daring not to risk my sledd by any fall from the valley-cliffs, I

dragged it very carefully up the steep incline of ice, through the

narrow chasm, and so to the very brink and verge where first I had seen

my Lorna, in the fishing days of boyhood. As I then had a trident fork,

for sticking of the loaches, so I now had a strong ash stake, to lay

across from rock to rock, and break the speed of descending. With this I

moored the sledd quite safe, at the very lip of the chasm, where all was

now substantial ice, green and black in the moonlight; and then I set

off up the valley, skirting along one side of it.

The stack-fire still was burning strongly, but with more of heat than

blaze; and many of the younger Doones were playing on the verge of it,

the children making rings of fire, and their mothers watching them. All

the grave and reverend warriors having heard of rheumatism, were inside

of log and stone, in the two lowest houses, with enough of candles

burning to make our list of sheep come short.

All these I passed, without the smallest risk or difficulty, walking up

the channel of drift which I spoke of once before. And then I crossed,

with more of care, and to the door of Lorna's house, and made the sign,

and listened, after taking my snow-shoes off.

But no one came, as I expected, neither could I espy a light. And I

seemed to hear a faint low sound, like the moaning of the snow-wind.

Then I knocked again more loudly, with a knocking at my heart: and

receiving no answer, set all my power at once against the door. In a

moment it flew inwards, and I glided along the passage with my feet

still slippery. There in Lorna's room I saw, by the moonlight flowing

in, a sight which drove me beyond sense.

[Illustration: 383.jpg Set all my power against the door]

Lorna was behind a chair, crouching in the corner, with her hands up,

and a crucifix, or something that looked like it. In the middle of the

room lay Gwenny Carfax, stupid, yet with one hand clutching the ankle of

a struggling man. Another man stood above my Lorna, trying to draw the

chair away. In a moment I had him round the waist, and he went out of

the window with a mighty crash of glass; luckily for him that window had

no bars like some of them. Then I took the other man by the neck; and he

could not plead for mercy. I bore him out of the house as lightly as I

would bear a baby, yet squeezing his throat a little more than I fain

would do to an infant. By the bright moonlight I saw that I carried

Marwood de Whichehalse. For his father's sake I spared him, and because

he had been my schoolfellow; but with every muscle of my body strung

with indignation, I cast him, like a skittle, from me into a snowdrift,

which closed over him. Then I looked for the other fellow, tossed

through Lorna's window, and found him lying stunned and bleeding,

neither able to groan yet. Charleworth Doone, if his gushing blood did

not much mislead me.

It was no time to linger now; I fastened my shoes in a moment, and

caught up my own darling with her head upon my shoulder, where she

whispered faintly; and telling Gwenny to follow me, or else I would come

back for her, if she could not walk the snow, I ran the whole distance

to my sledd, caring not who might follow me. Then by the time I had set

up Lorna, beautiful and smiling, with the seal-skin cloak all over her,

sturdy Gwenny came along, having trudged in the track of my snow-shoes,

although with two bags on her back. I set her in beside her mistress,

to support her, and keep warm; and then with one look back at the glen,

which had been so long my home of heart, I hung behind the sledd, and

launched it down the steep and dangerous way.

Though the cliffs were black above us, and the road unseen in front, and

a great white grave of snow might at a single word come down, Lorna was

as calm and happy as an infant in its bed. She knew that I was with her;

and when I told her not to speak, she touched my hand in silence. Gwenny

was in a much greater fright, having never seen such a thing before,

neither knowing what it is to yield to pure love's confidence. I could

hardly keep her quiet, without making a noise myself. With my staff from

rock to rock, and my weight thrown backward, I broke the sledd's too

rapid way, and brought my grown love safely out, by the selfsame road

which first had led me to her girlish fancy, and my boyish slavery.

Unpursued, yet looking back as if some one must be after us, we skirted

round the black whirling pool, and gained the meadows beyond it. Here

there was hard collar work, the track being all uphill and rough; and

Gwenny wanted to jump out, to lighten the sledd and to push behind. But

I would not hear of it; because it was now so deadly cold, and I feared

that Lorna might get frozen, without having Gwenny to keep her warm. And

after all, it was the sweetest labour I had ever known in all my

life, to be sure that I was pulling Lorna, and pulling her to our own

farmhouse.

Gwenny's nose was touched with frost, before we had gone much farther,

because she would not keep it quiet and snug beneath the sealskin. And

here I had to stop in the moonlight (which was very dangerous) and rub

it with a clove of snow, as Eliza had taught me; and Gwenny scolding

all the time, as if myself had frozen it. Lorna was now so far oppressed

with all the troubles of the evening, and the joy that followed them, as

well as by the piercing cold and difficulty of breathing, that she lay

quite motionless, like fairest wax in the moonlight--when we stole a

glance at her, beneath the dark folds of the cloak; and I thought that

she was falling into the heavy snow-sleep, whence there is no awaking.

Therefore, I drew my traces tight, and set my whole strength to the

business; and we slipped along at a merry pace, although with many

joltings, which must have sent my darling out into the cold snowdrifts

but for the short strong arm of Gwenny. And so in about an hour's time,

in spite of many hindrances, we came home to the old courtyard, and all

the dogs saluted us. My heart was quivering, and my cheeks as hot as

the Doones' bonfire, with wondering both what Lorna would think of

our farm-yard, and what my mother would think of her. Upon the former

subject my anxiety was wasted, for Lorna neither saw a thing, nor even

opened her heavy eyes. And as to what mother would think of her, she was

certain not to think at all, until she had cried over her.

And so indeed it came to pass. Even at this length of time, I can hardly

tell it, although so bright before my mind, because it moves my heart

so. The sledd was at the open door, with only Lorna in it; for Gwenny

Carfax had jumped out, and hung back in the clearing, giving any reason

rather than the only true one--that she would not be intruding. At the

door were all our people; first, of course, Betty Muxworthy, teaching

me how to draw the sledd, as if she had been born in it, and flourishing

with a great broom, wherever a speck of snow lay. Then dear Annie,

and old Molly (who was very quiet, and counted almost for nobody), and

behind them, mother, looking as if she wanted to come first, but

doubted how the manners lay. In the distance Lizzie stood, fearful of

encouraging, but unable to keep out of it.

Betty was going to poke her broom right in under the sealskin cloak,

where Lorna lay unconscious, and where her precious breath hung frozen,

like a silver cobweb; but I caught up Betty's broom, and flung it clean

away over the corn chamber; and then I put the others by, and fetched my

mother forward.

“You shall see her first,” I said: “is she not your daughter? Hold the

light there, Annie.”

Dear mother's hands were quick and trembling, as she opened the shining

folds; and there she saw my Lorna sleeping, with her black hair all

dishevelled, and she bent and kissed her forehead, and only said, “God

bless her, John!” And then she was taken with violent weeping, and I was

forced to hold her.

“Us may tich of her now, I rackon,” said Betty in her most jealous way;

“Annie, tak her by the head, and I'll tak her by the toesen. No taime

to stand here like girt gawks. Don'ee tak on zo, missus. Ther be vainer

vish in the zea--Lor, but, her be a booty!”

With this, they carried her into the house, Betty chattering all the

while, and going on now about Lorna's hands, and the others crowding

round her, so that I thought I was not wanted among so many women, and

should only get the worst of it, and perhaps do harm to my darling.

Therefore I went and brought Gwenny in, and gave her a potful of

bacon and peas, and an iron spoon to eat it with, which she did right

heartily.

Then I asked her how she could have been such a fool as to let those two

vile fellows enter the house where Lorna was; and she accounted for it

so naturally, that I could only blame myself. For my agreement had been

to give one loud knock (if you happen to remember) and after that two

little knocks. Well these two drunken rogues had come; and one, being

very drunk indeed, had given a great thump; and then nothing more to

do with it; and the other, being three-quarters drunk, had followed his

leader (as one might say) but feebly, and making two of it. Whereupon up

jumped Lorna, and declared that her John was there.

All this Gwenny told me shortly, between the whiles of eating, and even

while she licked the spoon; and then there came a message for me that my

love was sensible, and was seeking all around for me. Then I told Gwenny

to hold her tongue (whatever she did among us), and not to trust to

women's words; and she told me they all were liars, as she had found

out long ago; and the only thing to believe in was an honest man, when

found. Thereupon I could have kissed her as a sort of tribute, liking to

be appreciated; yet the peas upon her lips made me think about it; and

thought is fatal to action. So I went to see my dear.

That sight I shall not forget; till my dying head falls back, and my

breast can lift no more. I know not whether I were then more blessed,

or harrowed by it. For in the settle was my Lorna, propped with

pillows round her, and her clear hands spread sometimes to the blazing

fireplace. In her eyes no knowledge was of anything around her, neither

in her neck the sense of leaning towards anything. Only both her lovely

hands were entreating something, to spare her, or to love her; and the

lines of supplication quivered in her sad white face.

[Illustration: 387.jpg For in the settle was my Lorna]

“All go away, except my mother,” I said very quietly, but so that I

would be obeyed; and everybody knew it. Then mother came to me alone;

and she said, “The frost is in her brain; I have heard of this before,

John.” “Mother, I will have it out,” was all that I could answer her;

“leave her to me altogether; only you sit there and watch.” For I felt

that Lorna knew me, and no other soul but me; and that if not interfered

with, she would soon come home to me. Therefore I sat gently by her,

leaving nature, as it were, to her own good time and will. And presently

the glance that watched me, as at distance and in doubt, began to

flutter and to brighten, and to deepen into kindness, then to beam with

trust and love, and then with gathering tears to falter, and in shame

to turn away. But the small entreating hands found their way, as if by

instinct, to my great projecting palms; and trembled there, and rested

there.

For a little while we lingered thus, neither wishing to move away,

neither caring to look beyond the presence of the other; both alike so

full of hope, and comfort, and true happiness; if only the world would

let us be. And then a little sob disturbed us, and mother tried to make

believe that she was only coughing. But Lorna, guessing who she was,

jumped up so very rashly that she almost set her frock on fire from the

great ash log; and away she ran to the old oak chair, where mother was

by the clock-case pretending to be knitting, and she took the work from

mother's hands, and laid them both upon her head, kneeling humbly, and

looking up.

“God bless you, my fair mistress!” said mother, bending nearer, and then

as Lorna's gaze prevailed, “God bless you, my sweet child!”

And so she went to mother's heart by the very nearest road, even as she

had come to mine; I mean the road of pity, smoothed by grace, and youth,

and gentleness.