Lorna Doone: A Romance of Exmoor

r the way is still unmade, at least, on this side of Dulverton, although there is less danger now than in the time of my schooling; for now a g

and fagots, and even stump-oaks here and there, so that a man in good daylight need not sink, if he

ad and sorry business to find where lay the highway. We are taking now to mark it off with a fence on either side, at least, when a town is handy; but to

d we lodged at the sign of the White Horse Inn, in the street called Gold Street, opposite where the souls are of John and Joan Greenway, set up in gold letters, because we must take the homeward way at cockcrow of the morning. Though still John Fry was dry with me of the re

time, at which I was somewhat astonished, since we needs must stop for at least two hours, to bait our horses thorough well, before coming to the black bogway. The bogs are very good in frost, except where

horse, except in the rotten places. The day was inclined to be mild and foggy, and both nags sweated freely; but Peggy carrying little

and never would have chance to eat fry upon condition of spelling it; therefore I rode on, thinking that he was hard-set, like a saw, for his dinner, and would soften after tooth-w

gives me appetite, as once and awhile to think of my first love makes me love all goodness. Hot mutton pasty was a thing I had often heard

air and grace of a short-legged man, and shouted

vaive, in vaive minnits! Dish un up in the tin

r when it came to the real presence; and the smell of it was enough to make an empty man thank God

hod for comeliness rather than for use, I cannot 'scape the mark that God took thought to make a girl of him. Not so when they grow older, and court the regard of the maidens; then may the bravery pass from the in

y dinner. And John Fry, who cared very little to wash, save Sabbath days in his own soap, and who had kept me from the pump by threatening loss of the dish, out he

re I was running the water off all my head and shoulders, and arms, and some of my breast even, and though I had glimpsed her through the sprinkle, it gave me quite a turn to see her, child as I was, in my open aspect. But she looked at me, no whit abashed, making a baby of me, no doubt, as a woman of thirty will do, even with a very big boy when they catch him on a hayrick,

od from her voice and manner that she was not of this country, but a foreigner by extraction. And then I was not so shy

door, and Peggy neighing to me. If you please, we must get home to-ni

ter you. I have taken much love of you. But the baroness is hard t

am. Oh, a very long way, and the r

day I will come seek for him. Now make the pump to flow, my dear, and give me the g

og outside the glass, and the gleam of a crystal under it, and then she made a curtsey to me, in a sort of mocking manner, holding the long glass by the foot, not to take the cloud off; and then she wanted to kiss me; but I was out

m going farther, because it was so different from the fashion of their sweethearts. One with another they hung back, where half

ed man lies buried. Peggy and Smiler went up the hill, as if nothing could be too much for them, after the beans they had eaten, and suddenly turning a corner of trees, we happened upon a great coach and six

k at her for two glances, and she did not look at me for one, being such a little child, and busy with the hedges. But in the honourable place sate a handsome lady, very warmly dressed, and sweetly delicate of colour. And close to her was a lively child, two or it may be three years old, bearing a white cockade in his hat, and sta

e nicety she had offered to me, but, strange to say, she stared at my eyes as if she had never seen me before, neither wished to see me again. At this I was so startled, such things beings out of my knowledge, that I startled Peggy also with the muscle of my legs, and she being fresh from stable, and the mire scraped off with cask-hoop, broke away so suddenly that I could do no more than turn round and lower my cap, now five months old, to the beautiful lady. Soon I overtook John Fr

n going. For the road got worse and worse, until there was none at all, and perhaps the purest thing it could do was to be as

to them, were drizzled with a mess of wet, and hung their points with dropping. Wherever the butt-end of a hedgerow came up from the hollow ground, like the withers of a horse, holes of splash were pocked and

heir footsteps, and the dark ground pass below us, lighter where the wet was; and then the splash, foot af

r had been a subject of some wonder to me, whether I, in God's good time, should have the like of that, handsomely set with shining beads, small above and large below, from the weeping of the heaven. But still I could see the jog of his hat-a Sunday hat with a t

nothing else to my knowing; nor

hen, Jan; and me myzell no

om our head-covers and clothing, and the soft sounds of the lonely night, that make us feel, and try not to think. Then there came a mellow noise, very low and mournsome, not a sound to be afraid of, but to long to

e moozick as iver I 'eer. God b

d one of the Doo

y. Hang a Doone! God knoweth, the Kin

it in the c

metimes deserved it, and think that it might be a lesson to the rogues who unjustly loved the mutton

e o' the moor, and come staling shape to our zide. Red Jem Hannaford his name.

came and went on the wind, loud and low pretty regularly, even

t. Red Jem, too, and no doubt of him; he do hang so handsome like, and his ribs up laike a horse a'most. God bless them as d

e guiding of the body. But I was sorry for Red Jem, and wanted to know more about him, and whether he migh

perhaps he was moved with a lonesome fee

ow, two maile from Dunkery Beacon hill, the haighest place of Hexmoor. So

et, outlaws, traitors, murderers. My little legs began to tremble to and fro upon Peggy's side

se to his saddle-bow; 'dear John, you don't

ed in answer, fearfully; 'here us be by the hollow ground.

oss the Doone-track at full speed; to rush for it, and be done with it. But ev

uted them on the head, and said that it was in Homer, and meant the hollow of the hand. And another time a Welshman told me that it must be something like the thing they call a 'pant' in those parts. Still I know what it means

were coming to the comb of it, when I heard something, and caught John's arm, and he bent his hand to the shape of his ear. It was the sound of horses' feet knocking up through splashy ground, as

round her belly, and let

ds were too fagged to go far, and began to nose about and crop, sniffing more than

God they take them for forest-ponies,

below us. John lay on the ground by a barrow of heather, where a little gullet was, and I crept to him, afraid of the noise I made

and the fog rolled off before it. And suddenly a strong red light, cast by the cloud-weight downwards, s

shake; 'dursn't fire it now except to show the Doones way home again, since the naight a

my breast and thighs, until I was under a grey patch of stone, with a fringe of dry fern round it; there I lay, s

as hovering. All around it was hung with red, deep in twisted columns, and then a giant beard of fire streamed throughout the darkness.

nd their saddles, and flagons slung in front of them; I counted more than thirty pass, like clouds upon red sunset. Some had carcasses of sheep swinging with their skins on, others had deer, and one had a child flung across his saddle-bow. Whether the child were dead, or alive, was more than I could tell, only it hung head downwards there, and m

on a rock, and raving out of all possession. Two of them turned round, and one set his carbine at me, but the other said it was but a pixi

er's side, as if he were dipped in oil, now came up to me, all risk bein

f her, and her son, if she have one? Zarve thee right if I was to chuck thee down into t

er born man was in a fright, and ready to thank God for anything,

well embarked on the homeward road, and victualling where the grass was good. Right glad they were to see us agai

must have heard us. Home-side of the linhay, and under the ashen hedge-row, where father taught me to catch blackbirds, all at once my heart went down, and all my brea

t he had guests perhaps-people lost upon the moors-whom he could not leave unkindly, even for his son's sake. And yet about that I was jealous, and ready to be vexed with him, when h

tear, or thought of weeping, and hid me in a saw-pit. There the timber, over-head, c

, choking and holding together. Although they were my dearest loves, I could not bear to