R. D. Blackmore - Essential Novelists - R. D. Blackmore

'I to marry before my brother, and leave him with none to take care of him! Who can do him a red deer collop, except Sally herself, as I can? Come home, dear, at once, and I will do you one; for you never ate a morsel of supper, with all the people you had to attend upon.'

This was true enough; and seeing no chance of anything more than cross questions and crooked purposes, at which a girl was sure to beat me, I even allowed her to lead me home, with the thoughts of the collop uppermost. But I never counted upon being beaten so thoroughly as I was; for knowing me now to be off my guard, the young hussy stopped at the farmyard gate, as if with a brier entangling her, and while I was stooping to take it away, she looked me full in the face by the moonlight, and jerked out quite suddenly,—

'Can your love do a collop, John?'

'No, I should hope not,' I answered rashly; 'she is not a mere cook-maid I should hope.'

'She is not half so pretty as Sally Snowe; I will answer for that,' said Annie.

'She is ten thousand times as pretty as ten thousand Sally Snowes,' I replied with great indignation.

'Oh, but look at Sally's eyes!' cried my sister rapturously.

'Look at Lorna Doone's,' said I; 'and you would never look again at Sally's.'

'Oh Lorna Doone. Lorna Doone!' exclaimed our Annie half-frightened, yet clapping her hands with triumph, at having found me out so: 'Lorna Doone is the lovely maiden, who has stolen poor somebody's heart so. Ah, I shall remember it; because it is so queer a name. But stop, I had better write it down. Lend me your hat, poor boy, to write on.'

'I have a great mind to lend you a box on the ear,' I answered her in my vexation, 'and I would, if you had not been crying so, you sly good-for-nothing baggage. As it is, I shall keep it for Master Faggus, and add interest for keeping.'

'Oh no, John; oh no, John,' she begged me earnestly, being sobered in a moment. 'Your hand is so terribly heavy, John; and he never would forgive you; although he is so good-hearted, he cannot put up with an insult. Promise me, dear John, that you will not strike him; and I will promise you faithfully to keep your secret, even from mother, and even from Cousin Tom himself.'

'And from Lizzie; most of all, from Lizzie,' I answered very eagerly, knowing too well which of my relations would be hardest with me.

'Of course from little Lizzie,' said Annie, with some contempt; 'a young thing like her cannot be kept too long, in my opinion, from the knowledge of such subjects. And besides, I should be very sorry if Lizzie had the right to know your secrets, as I have, dearest John. Not a soul shall be the wiser for your having trusted me, John; although I shall be very wretched when you are late away at night, among those dreadful people.'

'Well,' I replied, 'it is no use crying over spilt milk Annie. You have my secret, and I have yours; and I scarcely know which of the two is likely to have the worst time of it, when it comes to mother's ears. I could put up with perpetual scolding but not with mother's sad silence.'

'That is exactly how I feel, John.' and as Annie said it she brightened up, and her soft eyes shone upon me; 'but now I shall be much happier, dear; because I shall try to help you. No doubt the young lady deserves it, John. She is not after the farm, I hope?'

'She!' I exclaimed; and that was enough, there was so much scorn in my voice and face.

'Then, I am sure, I am very glad,' Annie always made the best of things; 'for I do believe that Sally Snowe has taken a fancy to our dairy-place, and the pattern of our cream-pans; and she asked so much about our meadows, and the colour of the milk—'

'Then, after all, you were right, dear Annie; it is the ground she dotes upon.'

'And the things that walk upon it,' she answered me with another kiss; 'Sally has taken a wonderful fancy to our best cow, “Nipple-pins.” But she never shall have her now; what a consolation!'

We entered the house quite gently thus, and found Farmer Nicholas Snowe asleep, little dreaming how his plans had been overset between us. And then Annie said to me very slyly, between a smile and a blush,—

'Don't you wish Lorna Doone was here, John, in the parlour along with mother; instead of those two fashionable milkmaids, as Uncle Ben will call them, and poor stupid Mistress Kebby?'

'That indeed I do, Annie. I must kiss you for only thinking of it. Dear me, it seems as if you had known all about us for a twelvemonth.'

'She loves you, with all her heart, John. No doubt about that of course.' And Annie looked up at me, as much as to say she would like to know who could help it.

'That's the very thing she won't do,' said I, knowing that Annie would love me all the more for it, 'she is only beginning to like me, Annie; and as for loving, she is so young that she only loves her grandfather. But I hope she will come to it by-and-by.'

'Of course she must,' replied my sister, 'it will be impossible for her to help it.'

'Ah well! I don't know,' for I wanted more assurance of it. 'Maidens are such wondrous things!''

'Not a bit of it,' said Annie, casting her bright eyes downwards: 'love is as simple as milking, when people know how to do it. But you must not let her alone too long; that is my advice to you. What a simpleton you must have been not to tell me long ago. I would have made Lorna wild about you, long before this time, Johnny. But now you go into the parlour, dear, while I do your collop. Faith Snowe is not come, but Polly and Sally. Sally has made up her mind to conquer you this very blessed evening, John. Only look what a thing of a scarf she has on; I should be quite ashamed to wear it. But you won't strike poor Tom, will you?'

'Not I, my darling, for your sweet sake.'

And so dear Annie, having grown quite brave, gave me a little push into the parlour, where I was quite abashed to enter after all I had heard about Sally. And I made up my mind to examine her well, and try a little courting with her, if she should lead me on, that I might be in practice for Lorna. But when I perceived how grandly and richly both the young damsels were apparelled; and how, in their curtseys to me, they retreated, as if I were making up to them, in a way they had learned from Exeter; and how they began to talk of the Court, as if they had been there all their lives, and the latest mode of the Duchess of this, and the profile of the Countess of that, and the last good saying of my Lord something; instead of butter, and cream, and eggs, and things which they understood; I knew there must be somebody in the room besides Jasper Kebby to talk at.

And so there was; for behind the curtain drawn across the window-seat no less a man than Uncle Ben was sitting half asleep and weary; and by his side a little girl very quiet and very watchful. My mother led me to Uncle Ben, and he took my hand without rising, muttering something not over-polite, about my being bigger than ever. I asked him heartily how he was, and he said, 'Well enough, for that matter; but none the better for the noise you great clods have been making.'

'I am sorry if we have disturbed you, sir,' I answered very civilly; 'but I knew not that you were here even; and you must allow for harvest time.'

'So it seems,' he replied; 'and allow a great deal, including waste and drunkenness. Now (if you can see so small a thing, after emptying flagons much larger) this is my granddaughter, and my heiress'—here he glanced at mother—'my heiress, little Ruth Huckaback.'

'I am very glad to see you, Ruth,' I answered, offering her my hand, which she seemed afraid to take, 'welcome to Plover's Barrows, my good cousin Ruth.'

However, my good cousin Ruth only arose, and made me a curtsey, and lifted her great brown eyes at me, more in fear, as I thought, than kinship. And if ever any one looked unlike the heiress to great property, it was the little girl before me.