Blackmore_Lorna_Doone.txt topic ['13', '324', '378', '393']
me, even if would have
allowed it.
it cost me sore trouble and weariness, had put on all my
clothes, out of respect for the doctor, who was coming to bleed me again
(as he always did twice a week); and it struck me that he had seemed
hurt in his mind, because wore my worst clothes to be bled in--for lie
in bed would not, after six o'clock; and even that was great laziness.
looked at my right hand, whose grasp had been like that of a
blacksmith's vice; and it seemed to myself impossible that this could
be 's. great frame of the hand was there, as well as the
muscles, standing forth like the guttering of a candle, and the broad
blue veins, going up the back, and crossing every finger. as
for colour, even 's could scarcely have been whiter; and as for
strength, little might have come and held it fast. laughed
as tried in vain to lift the basin set for bleeding me.
thought of all the lovely things going on out-of-doors just now,
concerning which the drowsy song of the bees came to me. must
be among the thyme, by the sound of their great content. the
roses must be in blossom, and the woodbine, and clove-gilly-flower; the
cherries on the wall must be turning red, the yellow must be on
the brook, wheat must be callow with quavering bloom, and the early
meadows swathed with hay.
here was , a helpless creature quite unfit to stir among them,
gifted with no sight, no scent of all the changes that move our love,
and lead our hearts, from month to month, along the quiet path of life.
what was worse, had no hope of caring ever for them more.
a little knock sounded through my gloomy room, and supposing
it to be the doctor, tried to rise and make my bow. to my surprise
it was little , who had never once come to visit me, since
was placed under the doctor's hands. was dressed so gaily, with
rosettes, and flowers, and what not, that was sorry for her bad
manners; and thought she was come to conquer me, now that was done
with.
ran towards me with sparkling eyes, being rather short of sight;
then suddenly she stopped, and saw entire amazement in her face.
" you receive visitors, ?--why, they never told me of
this!" she cried: " knew that you were weak, dear ; but not that
you were dying. is that basin for?"
" have no intention of dying, ; and like not to talk about it.
that basin, if you must know, is for the doctor's purpose."
", do you mean bleeding you? poor weak cousin! it possible
that he does that still?"
" a week for the last six weeks, dear. else has kept me
alive."
" else has killed you, nearly. !" and she set her little
boot across the basin, and crushed it. " another drop shall they have
from you. such a fool as that? , like a zany, at her
books! killing her brother, between them!"
was surprised to see excited; her character being so calm and
quiet. tried to soothe her with my feeble hand, as now she knelt
before me.
" cousin, the doctor must know best. says so, every day.
has he been brought up for?"
" up for slaying and murdering. doctors killed
, in spite of all the women. you leave it to me, ?
have a little will of my own; and am not afraid of doctors. you
leave it to me, dear ? have saved your 's life. now
will save yours; which is a far, far easier business."
" have saved my 's life! do you mean by talking so?"
" what say, . perhaps overprize my work.
at any rate she says so."
" do not understand," said, falling back with bewilderment; "all
women are such liars."
" you ever known me tell a lie?" in great indignation--more
feigned, doubt, than real--"your mother may tell a story, now and then
when she feels it right; and so may both your sisters. so you cannot
do, ; and no more than you can do it."
ever there was virtuous truth in the eyes of any woman, it was now
in 's: and my brain began very slowly to move, the heart
being almost torpid from perpetual loss of blood.
" do not understand," was all could say for a very long time.
" you understand, if show you ? have feared to do it, for
the sake of you both. now is well enough, if you think that
you are, . you will understand, when you see your
wife."
her, to the very utmost of my mind and heart, felt that all
she said was truth; and yet could not make it out. in her last
few words there was such a power of sadness rising through the cover
of gaiety, that said to myself, half in a dream, " is very
beautiful."
had time to listen much for the approach of footsteps,
came back, and behind her ; coy as if of her bridegroom; and
hanging back with her beauty. banged the door, and ran away; and
stood before me.
she did not stand for an instant, when she saw what was like.
the risk of all thick bandages, and upsetting a dozen medicine bottles,
and scattering leeches right and left, she managed to get into my arms,
although they could not hold her. laid her panting warm young breast
on the place where they meant to bleed me, and she set my pale face up;
and she would not look at me, having greater faith in kissing.
felt my life come back, and warm; felt my trust in women flow;
felt the joys of living now, and the power of doing it. is not a
moment to describe; who feels can never tell of it. the rush of
's tears, and the challenge of my bride's lips, and the throbbing
of my wife's heart (now at last at home on mine), made me feel that the
world was good, and not a thing to be weary of.
more have to tell. doctor was turned out at once; and
slowly came back my former strength, with a darling wife, and good
victuals. for , she never tired of sitting and watching me eat
and eat. such is her heart that she never tires of being with me
here and there, among the beautiful places, and talking with her arm
around me--so far at least as it can go, though half of mine may go
round her--of the many fears and troubles, dangers and discouragements,
and worst of all the bitter partings, which we used to have, somehow.
is no need for my farming harder than becomes a man of weight.
has great stores of money, though we never draw it out, except for
some poor neighbor; unless find her a sumptuous dress, out of her own
perquisites. this she always looks upon as a wondrous gift from me;
and kisses me much when she puts it on, and walks like the noble woman
she is. yet may never behold it again; for she gets back to her
simple clothes, and love her the better in them. believe that she
gives half the grandeur away, and keeps the other half for the children.
for poor , every one knows his bitter adventures, when his
pardon was recalled, because of his journey to . a child
in the country, doubt, but knows far more than do of 's most
desperate doings. law had ruined him once, he said; and then he had
been too much for the law: and now that a quiet life was his object,
here the base thing came after him. such was his dread of this
evil spirit, that being caught upon , with soldiers
at either end of it (yet doubtful about approaching him), he set his
strawberry mare, sweet , at the left-hand parapet, with a whisper
into her dove-coloured ear. a moment's doubt she leaped it, into
the foaming tide, and swam, and landed according to orders. his
flight from a public-house (where a trap was set for him, but
came and broke down the door, and put two men under, and trod on them,)
is as well known as any ballad. was reported for awhile that poor
had been caught at last, by means of his fondness for liquor, and was
hanged before ; but luckily we knew better. a good
wife, and a wonderful horse, and all the country attached to him, he
kept the law at a wholesome distance, until it became too much for its
master; and a new king arose. this, sued his pardon afresh; and
, who suited the times, was glad to help him in getting
it, as well as a compensation. the good and respectable
lived a godly (though not always sober) life; and brought up his
children to honesty, as the first of all qualifications.
dear mother was as happy as possibly need be with us; having no
cause for jealousy, as others arose around her. everybody was well
pleased, when came in one day and tossed her bookshelf over, and
declared that she would have , and nobody should prevent
her. that he alone, of all the men she had ever met with, knew good
writing when he saw it, and could spell a word when told. he had now
succeeded to 's position ( going up the tree),
and had the power of collecting, and of keeping, what he liked, there
was nothing to be said against it; and we hoped that he would pay her
out.
sent little to 's school, at my own cost and charges,
having changed his name, for fear of what anyone might do to him.
called him ; and we got him a commission, and after many
scrapes of spirit, he did great things in the . looks
upon me as his father; and without my leave will not lay claim to the
heritage and title of the , which clearly belong to him.
is not married yet; although upon 's death
she came into all his property; except, indeed, 2000 pounds, which
, in his driest manner, bequeathed "to , the worshipful
knight, for greasing of the testator's boots." he left almost a
mint of money, not from the mine, but from the shop, and the good use of
usury. the mine had brought in just what it cost, when the vein of
gold ended suddenly; leaving all concerned much older, and some, fear,
much poorer; but no one utterly ruined, as is the case with most of
them. herself was his true mine, as upon death-bed he found. know
a man even worthy of her: and though she is not very young, he loves
her, as love . is my firm conviction, that in the end he
will win her; and do not mean to dance again, except at dear 's
wedding; if the floor be strong enough.
, of my lifelong darling, of my more and more loved wife, will
not talk; for it is not seemly that a man should exalt his pride.
by year her beauty grows, with the growth of goodness, kindness, and
true happiness--above all with loving. change, she makes a joke of
this, and plays with it, and laughs at it; and then, when my slow nature
marvels, back she comes to the earnest thing. if wish to pay her
out for something very dreadful--as may happen once or twice, when we
become too gladsome-- bring her to forgotten sadness, and to me for
cure of it, by the two words " ."