DARIEL
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[Illustration: "_Between whose jagged mullions flowed the silvery
light._"]
DARIEL
A Romance of Surrey
BY
R. D. BLACKMORE
AUTHOR OF "LORNA DOONE"
WITH DRAWINGS BY CHRIS HAMMOND
[Illustration: Decoration]
WILLIAM BLACKWOOD AND SONS
EDINBURGH AND LONDON
1897
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I A NIGHTINGALE 1
II THE FAMILY 9
III TOM ERRICKER 16
IV MR. STONEMAN 26
V TICKNOR'S MEW 39
VI TRUE HYGIENE 54
VII KUBAN 63
VIII THROUGH THE CORN 74
IX STRANGE SENSATIONS 89
X UPON THE GROUND 94
XI SÛR IMAR 102
XII IN THE BACKGROUND 109
XIII SMILES AND TEARS 119
XIV THE RUBY CROSS 132
XV SISTER _v._ SWEETHEART 143
XVI INTERNATIONAL ELEMENTS 149
XVII PEPPERCORNS 158
XVIII A LOVEBIRD 170
XIX TO CLEAR THE WAY 181
XX NOT FOR SALE 188
XXI VOICES OF THE VALLEY 192
XXII IMAR'S TALE--WAR 197
XXIII IMAR'S TALE--LOVE 208
XXIV IMAR'S TALE--PEACE 220
XXV IMAR'S TALE--CRIME 227
XXVI IMAR'S TALE--REVENGE 232
XXVII IMAR'S TALE--EXILE 241
XXVIII SANGUINE STILL 244
XXIX LARGE AND LONG VIEWS 252
XXX IN THE QUIET PLACES 261
XXXI PIT-A-PAT 266
XXXII A PAINFUL DUTY 276
XXXIII TREMBLING 282
XXXIV REJOICING 292
XXXV A RACE OF PLATERS 302
XXXVI GONE, GONE, GONE 313
XXXVII LOVERS MAKE MOAN 321
XXXVIII BLACK FRIDAY 334
XXXIX FRANGI, NON FLECTI 344
XL TWAIN MORE THAN TWIN 352
XLI A CROOKED BILLET 363
XLII FAREWELL, SMILER 373
XLIII THE LAND OF MEDEA 382
XLIV THE LAND OF PROMETHEUS 390
XLV AMONG THE GEMS 399
XLVI QUEEN MARVA 409
XLVII WOLF'S MEAT 420
XLVIII USI, THE SVÂN 427
XLIX THE EYE OF GOD 433
L TWO OLD FRIENDS 441
LI THE ROOT OF EVIL 448
LII STILL IN THE DARK 455
LIII A RUTHLESS SCHEME 464
LIV THE VALLEY OF RETRIBUTION 472
LV AT THE BAR 481
LVI HARD IS THE FIGHT 488
LVII BUT NOT IN VAIN 492
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.
"BETWEEN WHOSE JAGGED MULLIONS FLOWED THE
SILVERY LIGHT"; _Frontispiece_
"'ALLOW ME ONE MOMENT,' I SAID"; _Facing page_ 70
"SPRAWLING IN THE YELLOW STUBBLE"; 90
"WHY, IT MUST AT LEAST BE A PRINCESS"; 146
"HER SWEET, KIND FACE AS WHITE AS A SHROUD"; 168
"SHE TURNED AWAY HER FACE"; 218
"AT THE DOOR SHE TURNED, WITH A PROUD AND CALM
FAREWELL TO ME"; 238
"WHAT LITTLE THERE IS, IS ENTIRELY A GENUINE ARTICLE"; 274
"SÛR IMAR RECEIVED US WITH A LOVING SMILE"; 300
"A WOMAN OF GREAT SUBSTANCE RUSHED UP AND CAUGHT HER"; 308
"'ROT!' I REPLIED, WITH LESS ELEGANCE THAN TERSENESS"; 340
"'I TELL YOU WHAT,' HE SAID, TURNING ROUND AND
LOOKING AT ME WITH AUTHORITY"; 378
"GAZED AT THE CAPTAIN TILL HE SCARCE KNEW WHERE HE WAS"; 416
"'YES, I SEE,' HE ANSWERED SOFTLY"; 504
DARIEL: A ROMANCE OF SURREY
CHAPTER I
A NIGHTINGALE
If any man came to me, and said, "You are going to tell your tale, good
sir, without knowing how to handle it," I should look at him first with
some surprise, and anger at his interference, yet in a very few minutes,
unless he wanted to argue about it, probably he would have my
confession, and a prayer for his assistance. For every one knows how to
do a thing, much better than the one who does it.
In spite of all that, I will declare in a truthful manner unabashed,
whatever I know concerning the strange affairs which have befallen me;
and perhaps if you care to look into them, you will admit that even now,
when the world supposes itself to be in a state of proud civilization,
there are things to be found near its centre of perfection which are not
quite up to the standard of the Lord.
Towards the middle of the month of May, in a year which I never shall
forget, I happened to be riding home from Guildford in the county of
Surrey, after a long but vain attempt to do a little business for my
father. For we were not, as we used to be, people of wealth and large
estates, and such as the world looks up to; but sadly reduced, and
crippled, and hard-pushed to make a living. And the burden of this task
had fallen most heavily upon me, because I was the only son at home, and
my father's mind was much too large to be cramped with petty troubles.
So that when he had been deprived of nine-tenths of his property, and
could not procure any tenants for the rest, it became my duty to work
the best of the land that still remained, and make both ends meet, if
possible.
To a young man this was no great hardship unless he were spoiled for
country life by ambition, or sloth, or luxury; and it seemed to me at
first a welcome change, to be recalled from Oxford and from Lincoln's
Inn, and set to watch the earth and sky, instead of ink and paper. And
although there were storms and swamps of loss and disaster, to cross
continually, I was always at the point of getting on, if only there came
just a little turn of luck. But that which seemed to baffle mainly my
most choice endeavours, was that when I had done good work, and made
good staple--as it seemed to me--never a man to whom I showed it (at the
most reasonable figure) would stop to look at it for a moment in a
reasonable spirit; because, whatever I had to offer was, by strange
coincidence, the very thing my fellow-creatures happened not to want
just then.
What had I done, this very day, but carried into Guildford market, more
than twelve miles from our home, samples of as fair, and fat, and
thoroughly solid grain, as ever was grown to be ground in England? And
what had the dealers said to me? "Tut, tut! what call you that? Not so
bad for an amateur. Try again, sir, try again. Sir Harold must grow it
cheaper." And they made me not a single offer, such as I could think of
twice; while the farmers looked askance, and smiled very kindly and
respectfully, yet as if I had no business there, and must soon discover
my sad mistake.
"Never mind what they think," I exclaimed to myself, "or how they laugh
at all I can do. Wait a bit, wait a bit, my friends. We are not come to
the bottom of the basket yet. Hold up, ancient Joseph."
Ancient Joseph was the only horse now remaining with us, who could get
along at all, without a plough or waggon at his heels or tail. Like us,
he had seen better days; and like us he did not dwell upon them.
Faithful, generous, and conscientious, he kept up to his own standard
still, and insisted upon his twelve miles an hour, whenever his head was
homeward. It was in that pleasant direction now; and much as I longed
for a gentle glide of the soft May breeze around me, and a leisurely
gaze at the love of the year, now telling its tale in the valleys, that
old fellow (sniffing his oats leagues away) cared for nothing but a
quick stroke towards them. Much as I wanted to think about the money
that I ought to have got, but couldn't, this horse between my legs was
so full of what he meant to be filled with, that I was compelled to
attend to his mood, instead of giving rein to my own; lest haply a ditch
should be our conclusion.
Without any heed we scoured past the loveliest views in England, as
people in a train are forced to do; till Old Joe's wind became a gale,
more adverse now than favourable. His four legs, which had been going
like two, began to go like a figure of four, and he gave me to
understand through the flaps of leather, that his heart was repentant of
having its own way. On the ridge of the hills at the four cross-roads, I
allowed him therefore a welcome rest, having the worst of the road
before us, and the shadows growing deeper.
Perhaps I had prided myself too much upon seldom indulging in whims and
freaks, as my elder brother Harold did, to his great disadvantage and
our own; and now at the age of twenty-five, I should have known better
than to begin. But some strange impulse (which changed the whole course
of my life from that hour) seized me, as I stopped to breathe my horse
opposite that old direction-post.
"To Cobham and Esher" was on the left arm; the forward one pointed to a
village near our home, and that was the road I had always taken. But the
arm that would have pointed to the right, if it had been in its duty,
was not there now, though a double mortice-hole gave token of its late
existence. And the lane towards the right, of which it should have told
us, seemed rather desirous of evading notice, and certainly had received
very little for years from any road-surveyor. Narrow, and overhung, and
sinking into sleepy shadows with a fringe of old roots and dead bracken,
it afforded a pleasant sense of passing into quietude and loneliness.
Time was more plentiful than money with me, and why should I hurry to
tell my father the old tale of failure, so often repeated, but none the
more welcome--as an old joke is--by reason of familiarity? I knew the
chief outlines of the country pretty well, because an old fox had been
fond of it, whom we never brought to book, when the hounds were kept at
Crogate Park. How he had beaten us we never knew, beyond having fifty
opinions about it, of which only two were in favour with the wise
ones--the first that he sank into the bowels of the earth, and the other
that he vanished into the clouds of heaven. And the place was lonely
enough for him to have taken whichever course he chose, leaving nothing
but negative evidence.
Knowing that if I could cross that valley I should probably strike into
a bridle-lane which would take me home at leisure, I turned my old
horse, much against his liking, into this dark and downhill course, away
from the main road, which according to the wisdom of our forefathers
followed the backbone of the ridge. Soon we began to descend steep
places broken with slippery falls of rock, while branches of thicket and
sapling trees shook hands overhead, and shut out the sky. My horse, who
had never been down on his knees, and knew perhaps by instinct the
result of that attitude in the eyes of men, was beginning to tremble
exceedingly; and in fairness to him and myself as well, I jumped off and
led him. He looked at me gratefully, and followed without fear, though
sometimes sliding with all four feet, and throwing back his head for
balance. And perhaps he observed, as soon as I did, that no horse had
ever tried that descent, since the rains of winter washed it.
When I was ready to think myself a fool, and wish both of us well out of
it, the sweetest and clearest note, that ever turned the air into melody
and the dull world into poetry, came through the arching bowers of
spring, and made the crisp leaves tremulous. Then as a bud, with its
point released, breaks into a fountain of flower, the silvery overture
broke into a myriad petals of sensitive song.
"What a stunning nightingale," said I, as a matter-of-fact young Briton
might, with never an inkling of idea that the bird meant anything to me.
But he seemed to be one of those that love mankind (as the genial
robin-redbreast does), or at any rate desire to be thought of kindly,
and to finish well what is well begun; for he flitted before me down
the hill, and enlivened the gloom with vicissitudes of love.
Listening to this little fellow, and trying to catch sight of him, I was
standing with Old Joe's nose in my hand--for he was always
friendly--when the music that should lead my life, in the purest strain
came through the air. It was not the voice of a bird this time, but a
sound that made my heart beat fast and then held me in rapture of
wonder.
Dew of the morning in a moss-rose bud, crystal drops beading a frond of
fern, lustre of a fountain in full moonlight--none of these seem to me
fit to compare with the limpid beauty of that voice. And more than the
sweetest sounds can do, that indite of things beyond us, and fall from a
sphere where no man dwells, this voice came home to my heart, and filled
it with a vivid sorrow and a vague delight.
Sturdy as I was, and robust, and hardy, and apt to laugh at all
sentimental stuff, the force of the time overcame me, as if I had never
been educated; and as soon as I rather felt than knew that I was
listening to some simple hymn, I became almost as a little child
inhaling his first ideas of God. The words that fell upon my ears so
softly were as unknown as the tune itself, voice and verse and air
combining into a harmony of heaven.
Ought any man to be called a snob, for doing a thing that is below
himself, on the impulse of the moment, and without a halt of thought? It
is not for me to argue that; but I hope that fair ladies will forgive
me, when I confess that I stepped very gently, avoiding every dry twig
and stone, across the brown hollow that is generally found at the foot
of any steep fall of wood. By this time the lane was gone to grass, and
I slipped Old Joe's bit that he might have a graze, while I went in
quest of my Siren.
On the further brink of the spongy trough, a dark frizzle of alder and
close brushwood was overhanging a bright swift stream, which I
recognised as the Pebblebourne, a copious brook, beloved of trout, and
as yet little harassed by anglers. Through this dark screen I peered,
and beheld a vision that amazed me. Along a fair meadow that bent
towards the west, and offered a slim tree here and there--like a
walking-stick for evening--the gentle light of day's departure came
quite horizontally. There was, as there often is in nature, some deep
peace of sadness, which rebukes mankind for its petty cares, and
perpetual fuss about itself. And yet there was something in front of all
this, to set the heart of a young man fluttering.
On the opposite bank, and within fair distance for the eyes to make out
everything, was a niche of dark wall shagged with ivy, and still
supporting the grey stonework of a ruined chapel-window, between whose
jagged mullions flowed the silvery light of the west and fell upon the
face of a kneeling maiden. The profile, as perfect as that of a statue,
yet with the tender curves of youth, more like the softness of a cameo,
was outlined as in a frame of light against the black curtain of the
ivied wall. Beside the kneeling figure lay a head-tire of some strange
design, removed perhaps when the hymn was followed by the attitude of
prayer.
The beauty and rapture of this devotion made me hold my breath, and feel
as if I were profaning it. "Get away, you low intruder," said my better
self to me. But it is all very well to talk. It was out of my power to
go away. Under this spell I stood, until that gentle worshipper arose
with a bend of her graceful neck, and gathered her pale grey robe around
her. It was not such a dress as English ladies according to the fashion
of the moment wear, with pumpkin sleeves, or with wens upon their
shoulders, and puckers, and gathers, and frizzles and scollops, in a
mangle of angles and zig-zags. What it was made of is more than I can
say; I only know that it was beautiful; drawn in at the waist with a
narrow belt, and following rather than trying to lead the harmony of the
living form. But one thing caught my attention even so, and that was the
flash of a bright red cross on the delicate curve of the bosom.
It appeared to me that tears were sparkling under the fringe of large
dark eyes, as the lonely maiden glanced around, while preparing for
departure. Then to my surprise--if anything could surprise me
further--with a rapid movement she laid bare a gleaming shoulder, and
set upon it the tip of a long straight finger. Her face was partly
obscured to me by the bend of her arm, but I fancied that she smiled,
and was opening her lips to pronounce some words, when suddenly that
horse Old Joe, who had been doing his best to lessen the burden of his
maintenance, gave vent to a snort of approbation, not of the fair sight
across the water--for that was hidden by bushes from him--but at the
juiciness of his graze. My guilty conscience made me start, for I fully
expected to be found out in a thing I had never done before; and I felt
ashamed to look again, till I knew there was no suspicion. Then a breath
of wind turned up a leaf; and who could help glancing under it?
I saw that the beautiful and mysterious damsel had taken some little
alarm at the grunt of the greedy quadruped. From the foot of the old
chapel-window she was taking something white like a crucifix--though I
could not be certain about that; meanwhile she had placed on her head
that strange affair which I had seen lying on the ground. To me it
looked like an octagonal hat, with a long veil of gauze descending from
it, resembling nothing that I had ever seen on a lady's head, to the
best of my remembrance; although in bright fact they wear such strange
things, and trim them anew so wondrously, that no man must be positive.
Whatever it was, it looked very sweet--as the ladies themselves express
it--but I grieved that I could see her face no more.
She placed that white object very carefully in the folds of her dress
beneath the veil which covered her down to the waist; and then to my
great disappointment she was gone, seeming rather to float on the air
than to walk with a definite stride, as our ladies make their way. But
the quivering points of some pendulous leafage showed that a bodily form
had passed there.
I was left in a conflict of wonder, and doubt, and intense desire to
know more, mingled with some self-reproach--though the worst of that
came afterwards--and a hollow feeling in my heart as if I should never
fill it with myself again. Something told me that the proper course, and
the most manly and business-like, was to jump on my horse and make him
climb the hill anew, and take the high road, and get home at full speed,
and never say a word about what I had seen, nor even think about it, if
it could be helped.
But I assure you (and I hope again that allowance will be made for me,
as a young man not much accustomed to the world, and hitherto heedless
of feminine charms) that I found it impossible to do the right thing
now. Instead of a lofty and resolute withdrawal, in I went for more of
that, of which I had taken too much already. I stuck Old Joe's bit into
the hungry leather of his most voracious mouth, and came down on his
back with a ponderous swing, and girded him with a hard grip of his
belly, to show me some more of what he had scared away. Much against his
liking--for if ever a horse was totally destitute of romance, here he
was and no mistake--with a grunt of remonstrance he plodded into the
pebbly ford at the bottom of the hill.
But when we struck into the silence of the meadow, what was I the wiser?
Lo, the dusk was settling down in the most indifferent manner, the
sunset flush was fading into a faint and chill neutrality, the trees had
no shadow, and, worst of all, no sign or even memory of any sweet
passage among them. Only on the left hand some hundred yards away was a
black door set in an old grey wall, which curved along leisurely as far
as I could see, and offered no other entrance.
"I am not the sort of fellow to put up with this," I exclaimed to myself
impatiently; and yet there was no way to help it just now. And if it
came to reason, what business had I there? Still the whole of this land
had been ours not more than a century ago, and a true Briton feels that
he has his rights, however long he may have lost them. But it is not in
his nature to lose sight of reason, though I am not quite so certain how
that was with me, as I wandered home slowly along forgotten ways, and
knew that my life was changed thenceforth.