第87章

AndhereIsawit，manyways。Inthefirstplace，troublesmustbreakout；andwehadeight-and-twentyricks；countinggrain，andstraw，andhay。Moreover，motherwasgrowingweakaboutriots，andshooting，andburning；andshegatheredthebed-clothesaroundherearseverynight，whenherfeetweretuckedup；andprayednottoawakeuntilmorning。Inthenextplace，muchrebellion(thoughwewouldnotownit；ineithersenseoftheverb，to’own’)waswhispering，andpluckingskirts，andmakingsigns，amongus。AndtheterroroftheDooneshelpedgreatly；asafruitfultreeoflawlessness，andagoodexcuseforeverybody。Andafterthis——orratherbeforeit，andfirstofallindeed(ifImuststatethetrueorder)——aroseuponmethethoughtofLorna，andhowthesethingswouldaffectherfate。

AndindeedImustadmitthatithadoccurredtomesometimes，orbeensuggestedbyothers，thattheLadyLornahadnotbehavedaltogetherkindly，sinceherdeparturefromamongus。Foralthoughinthosedaysthepost(aswecalltheserviceofletter-carrying，whichnowcomeswithintwentymilesofus)didnotextendtoourpartoftheworld，yetitmighthavebeenpossibletoprocureforhireamanwhowouldridepost，ifLornafearedtotrustthepack-horses，orthetroopers，whowenttoandfro。Yetnomessagewhateverhadreachedus；neitheranytokenevenofhersafetyinLondon。Astothislast，however，wehadnomisgivings，havinglearnedfromtheorderlies，morethanonce，thatthewealth，andbeauty，andadventuresofyoungLadyLornaDugalweregreatlytalkedof，bothatcourtandamongthecommonpeople。

Nowridingsadlyhomewards，inthesunsetoftheearlyspring，Iwasmorethanevertouchedwithsorrow，andasenseofbeing，asitwere，abandoned。Andtheweathergrowingquitebeautiful，andsomildthatthetreeswerebudding，andthecattlefullofhappiness，Icouldnotbutthinkofthedifferencebetweentheworldofto-dayandtheworldofthisdaytwelvemonth。Thenallwashowlingdesolation，alltheearthblockedupwithsnow，andalltheairwithbarbsoficeassmallassplinteredneedles，yetglittering，inandout，likestars，andgatheringsouponaman(iflonghestayedamongthem)thattheybegantoweighhimdowntosleepinessandfrozendeath。Notasignoflifewasmoving，norwasanychangeofview；unlessthewildwindstruckthecrestofsomecolddrift，andbowedit。

Now，ontheotherhand，allwasgood。Theopenpalmofspringwaslaidupontheyieldingofthehills；andeachparticularvalleyseemedtobethegloveforafinger。Andalthoughthesunwaslow，anddippinginthewesternclouds，thegraylightoftheseacameup，andtook，andtaking，toldthespecialtoneofeverything。Allthislayuponmyheart，withoutawordofthinking，spreadinglightandshadowthere，andthesoftdelightofsadness。Nevertheless，Iwoulditwerethesavagesnowaroundme，andthepipingoftherestlesswinds，andthedeathofeverything。ForinthosedaysIhadLorna。

ThenIthoughtofpromisefair；suchasglowedaroundme，wheretheredrocksheldthesun，whenhewasdeparted；andthedistantcragsendeavouredtoretainhismemory。Butaseveningspreadacrossthem，shadingwithasilentfold，allthecolourstoleaway；allremembrancewanedanddied。

’Soithasbeenwithlove，’Ithought，’andwithsimpletruthandwarmth。Themaidhaschosentheglitteringstars，insteadoftheplaindaylight。’

NeverthelessIwouldnotgivein，althoughindeepdespondency(especiallywhenIpassedtheplacewheremydearfatherhadfoughtinvain)，andItriedtoseethingsrightandthenjudgearightaboutthem。This，however，wasmoreeasytoattemptthantoachieve；andbythetimeIcamedownthehill，Iwasnonethewiser。

OnlyIcouldtellmymotherthattheKingwasdeadforsure；andshewouldhavetriedtocry，butforthoughtofhermourning。

Therewasnotamomentforlamenting。Allthemourningmustbeready(ifwecaredtobeattheSnowes)ineight-and-fortyhours：and，althoughitwasSundaynight，mothernowfeelingsureofthething，satupwithLizzie，cuttingpatterns，andstitchingthingsonbrownpaper，andsnipping，andlayingthefashionsdown，andrequestingallopinions，yetwhengiven，scorningthem；insomuchthatIgrewwearyevenoftobacco(whichhadcomfortedmesinceLorna)，andprayedhertogoonuntiltheKingshouldbealiveagain。

Thethoughtofthatsoflurri