fireplace. I sighed sometimes about Lorna, and
they thought it was about the plates. And mother
would stand and look at me, as much as to say, “No
pleasing him”; and Lizzie would jerk up one
shoulder, and cry, “He had better have Lorna
to cook for him”; while the whole truth was
that I wanted not to be plagued about any cookery;
but just to have something good and quiet, and then
smoke and think about Lorna.
Nevertheless the time went on, with one change and
another; and we gathered all our harvest in; and Parson
Bowden thanked God for it, both in church and out
of it; for his tithes would be very goodly. The
unmatched cold of the previous winter, and general
fear of scarcity, and our own talk about our ruin,
had sent prices up to a grand high pitch; and we did
our best to keep them there. For nine Englishmen
out of every ten believe that a bitter winter must
breed a sour summer, and explain away topmost prices.
While according to my experience, more often it would
be otherwise, except for the public thinking so.
However, I have said too much; and if any farmer reads
my book, he will vow that I wrote it for nothing else
except to rob his family.
THE KING MUST NOT BE PRAYED FOR
[Illustration: 575.jpg Lynmouth]
All our neighbourhood was surprised that the Doones
had not ere now attacked, and probably made an end
of us. For we lay almost at their mercy now,
having only Sergeant Bloxham, and three men, to protect
us, Captain Stickles having been ordered southwards
with all his force; except such as might be needful
for collecting toll, and watching the imports at Lynmouth,
and thence to Porlock. The Sergeant, having now
imbibed a taste for writing reports (though his first
great effort had done him no good, and only offended
Stickles), reported weekly from Plover’s Barrows,
whenever he could find a messenger. And though
we fed not Sergeant Bloxham at our own table, with
the best we had (as in the case of Stickles, who represented
His Majesty), yet we treated him so well, that he
reported very highly of us, as loyal and true-hearted
lieges, and most devoted to our lord the King.
And indeed he could scarcely have done less, when
Lizzie wrote great part of his reports, and furbished
up the rest to such a pitch of lustre, that Lord Clarendon
himself need scarce have been ashamed of them.
And though this cost a great deal of ale, and even
of strong waters (for Lizzie would have it the duty
of a critic to stand treat to the author), and though
it was otherwise a plague, as giving the maid such
airs of patronage, and such pretence to politics;
yet there was no stopping it, without the risk of
mortal offence to both writer and reviewer. Our
mother also, while disapproving Lizzie’s long
stay in the saddle-room on a Friday night and a Saturday,
and insisting that Betty should be there, was nevertheless
as proud as need be, that the King should read our
Eliza’ s writings—at least so the
innocent soul believed—and we all looked
forward to something great as the fruit of all this
history. And something great did come of it,
though not as we expected; for these reports, or as
many of them as were ever opened, stood us in good
stead the next year, when we were accused of harbouring
and comforting guilty rebels.
