JOHN RETURNS TO BUSINESS
[Illustration: 299.jpg Guy Fawkes]
Now November was upon us, and we had kept Allhallowmass, with roasting
of skewered apples (like so many shuttlecocks), and after that the day
of Fawkes, as became good Protestants, with merry bonfires and burned
batatas, and plenty of good feeding in honour of our religion; and then
while we were at wheat-sowing, another visitor arrived.
This was Master Jeremy Stickles, who had been a good friend to me (as
described before) in London, and had earned my mother's gratitude, so
far as ever he chose to have it. And he seemed inclined to have it all;
for he made our farm-house his headquarters, and kept us quite at his
beck and call, going out at any time of the evening, and coming back at
any time of the morning, and always expecting us to be ready, whether
with horse, or man, or maiden, or fire, or provisions. We knew that he
was employed somehow upon the service of the King, and had at different
stations certain troopers and orderlies quite at his disposal; also
we knew that he never went out, nor even slept in his bedroom, without
heavy firearms well loaded, and a sharp sword nigh his hand; and that
he held a great commission, under royal signet, requiring all good
subjects, all officers of whatever degree, and especially justices of
the peace, to aid him to the utmost, with person, beast, and chattel, or
to answer it at their peril.
Now Master Jeremy Stickles, of course, knowing well what women are,
durst not open to any of them the nature of his instructions. But, after
awhile, perceiving that I could be relied upon, and that it was a great
discomfort not to have me with him, he took me aside in a lonely place,
and told me nearly everything; having bound me first by oath, not to
impart to any one, without his own permission, until all was over.
But at this present time of writing, all is over long ago; ay and
forgotten too, I ween, except by those who suffered. Therefore may I
tell the whole without any breach of confidence. Master Stickles was
going forth upon his usual night journey, when he met me coming home,
and I said something half in jest, about his zeal and secrecy; upon
which he looked all round the yard, and led me to an open space in the
clover field adjoining.
“John,” he said, “you have some right to know the meaning of all this,
being trusted as you were by the Lord Chief Justice. But he found you
scarcely supple enough, neither gifted with due brains.”
“Thank God for that same,” I answered, while he tapped his head, to
signify his own much larger allowance. Then he made me bind myself,
which in an evil hour I did, to retain his secret; and after that he
went on solemnly, and with much importance,--
“There be some people fit to plot, and others to be plotted against,
and others to unravel plots, which is the highest gift of all. This last
hath fallen to my share, and a very thankless gift it is, although a
rare and choice one. Much of peril too attends it; daring courage and
great coolness are as needful for the work as ready wit and spotless
honour. Therefore His Majesty's advisers have chosen me for this high
task, and they could not have chosen a better man. Although you have
been in London, Jack, much longer than you wished it, you are wholly
ignorant, of course, in matters of state, and the public weal.”
“Well,” said I, “no doubt but I am, and all the better for me. Although
I heard a deal of them; for everybody was talking, and ready to come to
blows; if only it could be done without danger. But one said this, and
one said that; and they talked so much about Birminghams, and Tantivies,
and Whigs and Tories, and Protestant flails and such like, that I was
only too glad to have my glass and clink my spoon for answer.”
“Right, John, thou art right as usual. Let the King go his own gait. He
hath too many mistresses to be ever England's master. Nobody need fear
him, for he is not like his father: he will have his own way, 'tis true,
but without stopping other folk of theirs: and well he knows what women
are, for he never asks them questions. Now heard you much in London town
about the Duke of Monmouth?”
“Not so very much,” I answered; “not half so much as in Devonshire: only
that he was a hearty man, and a very handsome one, and now was banished
by the Tories; and most people wished he was coming back, instead of the
Duke of York, who was trying boots in Scotland.”
“Things are changed since you were in town. The Whigs are getting up
again, through the folly of the Tories killing poor Lord Russell; and
now this Master Sidney (if my Lord condemns him) will make it worse
again. There is much disaffection everywhere, and it must grow to an
outbreak. The King hath many troops in London, and meaneth to bring
more from Tangier; but he cannot command these country places; and the
trained bands cannot help him much, even if they would. Now, do you
understand me, John?”
“In truth, not I. I see not what Tangier hath to do with Exmoor; nor the
Duke of Monmouth with Jeremy Stickles.”
“Thou great clod, put it the other way. Jeremy Stickles may have much to
do about the Duke of Monmouth. The Whigs having failed of Exclusion, and
having been punished bitterly for the blood they shed, are ripe for any
violence. And the turn of the balance is now to them. See-saw is the
fashion of England always; and the Whigs will soon be the top-sawyers.”
“But,” said I, still more confused, “'The King is the top-sawyer,'
according to our proverb. How then can the Whigs be?”
“Thou art a hopeless ass, John. Better to sew with a chestnut than to
teach thee the constitution. Let it be so, let it be. I have seen a
boy of five years old more apt at politics than thou. Nay, look not
offended, lad. It is my fault for being over-deep to thee. I should have
considered thy intellect.”
“Nay, Master Jeremy, make no apologies. It is I that should excuse
myself; but, God knows, I have no politics.”
“Stick to that, my lad,” he answered; “so shalt thou die easier. Now,
in ten words (without parties, or trying thy poor brain too much), I am
here to watch the gathering of a secret plot, not so much against the
King as against the due succession.”
“Now I understand at last. But, Master Stickles, you might have said all
that an hour ago almost.”
“It would have been better, if I had, to thee,” he replied with much
compassion; “thy hat is nearly off thy head with the swelling of brain I
have given thee. Blows, blows, are thy business, Jack. There thou art in
thine element. And, haply, this business will bring thee plenty even
for thy great head to take. Now hearken to one who wishes thee well,
and plainly sees the end of it--stick thou to the winning side, and have
naught to do with the other one.”
“That,” said I, in great haste and hurry, “is the very thing I want
to do, if I only knew which was the winning side, for the sake of
Lorna--that is to say, for the sake of my dear mother and sisters, and
the farm.”
“Ha!” cried Jeremy Stickles, laughing at the redness of my face--“Lorna,
saidst thou; now what Lorna? Is it the name of a maiden, or a
light-o'-love?”
“Keep to your own business,” I answered, very proudly; “spy as much as
e'er thou wilt, and use our house for doing it, without asking leave or
telling; but if I ever find thee spying into my affairs, all the King's
lifeguards in London, and the dragoons thou bringest hither, shall not
save thee from my hand--or one finger is enough for thee.”
Being carried beyond myself by his insolence about Lorna, I looked
at Master Stickles so, and spake in such a voice, that all his daring
courage and his spotless honour quailed within him, and he shrank--as if
I would strike so small a man.
Then I left him, and went to work at the sacks upon the corn-floor, to
take my evil spirit from me before I should see mother. For (to tell the
truth) now my strength was full, and troubles were gathering round me,
and people took advantage so much of my easy temper, sometimes when
I was over-tried, a sudden heat ran over me, and a glowing of all
my muscles, and a tingling for a mighty throw, such as my utmost
self-command, and fear of hurting any one, could but ill refrain.
Afterwards, I was always very sadly ashamed of myself, knowing how poor
a thing bodily strength is, as compared with power of mind, and that it
is a coward's part to misuse it upon weaker folk. For the present there
was a little breach between Master Stickles and me, for which I blamed
myself very sorely. But though, in full memory of his kindness and
faithfulness in London, I asked his pardon many times for my foolish
anger with him, and offered to undergo any penalty he would lay upon me,
he only said it was no matter, there was nothing to forgive. When people
say that, the truth often is that they can forgive nothing.
So for the present a breach was made between Master Jeremy and myself,
which to me seemed no great loss, inasmuch as it relieved me from any
privity to his dealings, for which I had small liking. All I feared was
lest I might, in any way, be ungrateful to him; but when he would have
no more of me, what could I do to help it? However, in a few days' time
I was of good service to him, as you shall see in its proper place.
But now my own affairs were thrown into such disorder that I could
think of nothing else, and had the greatest difficulty in hiding my
uneasiness. For suddenly, without any warning, or a word of message,
all my Lorna's signals ceased, which I had been accustomed to watch for
daily, and as it were to feed upon them, with a glowing heart. The first
time I stood on the wooded crest, and found no change from yesterday, I
could hardly believe my eyes, or thought at least that it must be some
great mistake on the part of my love. However, even that oppressed me
with a heavy heart, which grew heavier, as I found from day to day no
token.
Three times I went and waited long at the bottom of the valley, where
now the stream was brown and angry with the rains of autumn, and the
weeping trees hung leafless. But though I waited at every hour of day,
and far into the night, no light footstep came to meet me, no sweet
voice was in the air; all was lonely, drear, and drenched with sodden
desolation. It seemed as if my love was dead, and the winds were at her
funeral.
Once I sought far up the valley, where I had never been before, even
beyond the copse where Lorna had found and lost her brave young cousin.
Following up the river channel, in shelter of the evening fog, I gained
a corner within stone's throw of the last outlying cot. This was a
gloomy, low, square house, without any light in the windows, roughly
built of wood and stone, as I saw when I drew nearer. For knowing it
to be Carver's dwelling (or at least suspecting so, from some words of
Lorna's), I was led by curiosity, and perhaps by jealousy, to have a
closer look at it. Therefore, I crept up the stream, losing half my
sense of fear, by reason of anxiety. And in truth there was not much to
fear, the sky being now too dark for even a shooter of wild fowl to make
good aim. And nothing else but guns could hurt me, as in the pride of my
strength I thought, and in my skill of single-stick.
[Illustration: 304.jpg Nevertheless, I went warily]
Nevertheless, I went warily, being now almost among this nest of
cockatrices. The back of Carver's house abutted on the waves of the
rushing stream; and seeing a loop-hole, vacant for muskets, I looked in,
but all was quiet. So far as I could judge by listening, there was no
one now inside, and my heart for a moment leaped with joy, for I
had feared to find Lorna there. Then I took a careful survey of the
dwelling, and its windows, and its door, and aspect, as if I had been
a robber meaning to make privy entrance. It was well for me that I did
this, as you will find hereafter.
Having impressed upon my mind (a slow but, perhaps retentive mind), all
the bearings of the place, and all its opportunities, and even the
curve of the stream along it, and the bushes near the door, I was much
inclined to go farther up, and understand all the village. But a bar of
red light across the river, some forty yards on above me, and crossing
from the opposite side like a chain, prevented me. In that second house
there was a gathering of loud and merry outlaws, making as much noise as
if they had the law upon their side. Some, indeed, as I approached, were
laying down both right and wrong, as purely, and with as high a sense,
as if they knew the difference. Cold and troubled as I was, I could
hardly keep from laughing.
Before I betook myself home that night, and eased dear mother's heart
so much, and made her pale face spread with smiles, I had resolved to
penetrate Glen Doone from the upper end, and learn all about my Lorna.
Not but what I might have entered from my unsuspected channel, as so
often I had done; but that I saw fearful need for knowing something more
than that. Here was every sort of trouble gathering upon me, here was
Jeremy Stickles stealing upon every one in the dark; here was
Uncle Reuben plotting Satan only could tell what; here was a white
night-capped man coming bodily from the grave; here was my own sister
Annie committed to a highwayman, and mother in distraction; most of
all--here, there, and where--was my Lorna stolen, dungeoned, perhaps
outraged. It was no time for shilly shally, for the balance of this and
that, or for a man with blood and muscle to pat his nose and ponder.
If I left my Lorna so; if I let those black-soul'd villains work their
pleasure on my love; if the heart that clave to mine could find no
vigour in it--then let maidens cease from men, and rest their faith in
tabby-cats.
Rudely rolling these ideas in my heavy head and brain I resolved to let
the morrow put them into form and order, but not contradict them. And
then, as my constitution willed (being like that of England), I slept,
and there was no stopping me.