HOW SIR PEREGRINE DID BUSINESS WITH MR. ROUND.
In the mean time Sir Peregrine was sitting at home trying to
determine in what way he should act under the present emergency,
actuated as he was on one side by friendship and on the other by
duty. For the first day or two--nay for the first week after the
confession had been made to him,--he had been so astounded, had
been so knocked to the earth, and had remained in such a state of
bewilderment, that it had been impossible for him to form for himself
any line of conduct. His only counsellor had been Mrs. Orme; and,
though he could not analyze the matter, he felt that her woman's
ideas of honour and honesty were in some way different from his ideas
as a man. To her the sorrows and utter misery of Lady Mason seemed of
greater weight than her guilt. At least such was the impression which
her words left. Mrs. Orme's chief anxiety in the matter still was
that Lady Mason should be acquitted;--as strongly so now as when they
both believed her to be as guiltless as themselves. But Sir Peregrine
could not look at it in this light. He did not say that he wished
that she might be found guilty;--nor did he wish it. But he did
announce his opinion to his daughter-in-law that the ends of justice
would so be best promoted, and that if the matter were driven to a
trial it would not be for the honour of the court that a false
verdict should be given. Nor would he believe that such a false
verdict could be obtained. An English judge and an English jury were
to him the Palladium of discerning truth. In an English court of law
such a matter could not remain dark;--nor ought it, let whatever
misery betide. It was strange how that old man should have lived so
near the world for seventy years, should have taken his place in
Parliament and on the bench, should have rubbed his shoulders so
constantly against those of his neighbours, and yet have retained so
strong a reliance on the purity of the world in general. Here and
there such a man may still be found, but the number is becoming very
few.
As for the property, that must of necessity be abandoned. Lady Mason
had signified her agreement to this; and therefore he was so far
willing that she should be saved from further outward punishment, if
that were still possible. His plan was this; and to his thinking it
was the only plan that was feasible. Let the estate be at once given
up to the proper owner,--even now, before the day of trial should
come; and then let them trust, not to Joseph Mason, but to Joseph
Mason's advisers to abstain from prosecuting the offender. Even this
course he knew to be surrounded by a thousand difficulties; but it
might be possible. Of Mr. Round, old Mr. Round, he had heard a good
report. He was a kind man, and even in this very matter had behaved
in a way that had shamed his client. Might it not be possible that
Mr. Round would engage to drop the prosecution if the immediate
return of the property were secured? But to effect this must he not
tell Mr. Round of the woman's guilt? And could he manage it himself?
Must he not tell Mr. Furnival? And by so doing, would he not rob Lady
Mason of her sole remaining tower of strength?--for if Mr. Furnival
knew that she was guilty, Mr. Furnival must of course abandon her
cause. And then Sir Peregrine did not know how to turn himself, as he
thus argued the matter within his own bosom.
And then too his own disgrace sat very heavy on him. Whether or no
the law might pronounce Lady Mason to have been guilty, all the world
would know her guilt. When that property should be abandoned, and
her wretched son turned out to earn his bread, it would be well
understood that she had been guilty. And this was the woman, this
midnight forger, whom he had taken to his bosom, and asked to be
his wife! He had asked her, and she had consented, and then he had
proclaimed the triumph of his love to all the world. When he stood
there holding her to his breast he had been proud of her affection.
When Lord Alston had come to him with his caution he had scorned his
old friend and almost driven him from his door. When his grandson had
spoken a word, not to him but to another, he had been full of wrath.
He had let it be known widely that he would feel no shame in showing
her to the world as Lady Orme. And now she was a forger, and a
perjurer, and a thief;--a thief who for long years had lived on the
proceeds of her dexterous theft. And yet was he not under a deep
obligation to her--under the very deepest? Had she not saved him from
a worse disgrace;--saved him at the cost of all that was left to
herself? Was he not still bound to stand by her? And did he not still
love her?
Poor Sir Peregrine! May we not say that it would have been well for
him if the world and all its trouble could have now been ended so
that he might have done with it?
Mrs. Orme was his only counsellor, and though she could not be
brought to agree with him in all his feelings, yet she was of
infinite comfort to him. Had she not shared with him this terrible
secret his mind would have given way beneath the burden. On the day
after Lady Mason's departure from The Cleeve, he sat for an hour in
the library considering what he would do, and then he sent for his
daughter-in-law. If it behoved him to take any step to stay the
trial, he must take it at once. The matter had been pressed on by
each side, and now the days might be counted up to that day on
which the judges would arrive in Alston. That trial would be very
terrible to him in every way. He had promised, during those pleasant
hours of his love and sympathy in which he had felt no doubt as to
his friend's acquittal, that he would stand by her when she was
arraigned. That was now impossible, and though he had not dared to
mention it to Lady Mason, he knew that she would not expect that he
should do so. But to Mrs. Orme he had spoken on the matter, and she
had declared her purpose of taking the place which it would not now
become him to fill! Sir Peregrine had started from his chair when she
had so spoken. What! his daughter! She, the purest of the pure, to
whom the very air of a court of law would be a contamination;--she,
whose whiteness had never been sullied by contact with the world's
dust; she set by the side of that terrible criminal, hand in hand
with her, present to all the world as her bosom friend! There had
been but few words between them on the matter; but Sir Peregrine had
felt strongly that that might not be permitted. Far better than that
it would be that he should humble his gray hairs and sit there to
be gazed at by the crowd. But on all accounts how much was it to be
desired that there should be no trial!
"Sit down, Edith," he said, as with her soft step she came up to him.
"I find that the assizes will be here, in Alston, at the end of next
month."
"So soon as that, father?"
"Yes; look here: the judges will come in on the 25th of March."
"Ah me--this is very sudden. But, father, will it not be best for her
that it should be over?"
Mrs. Orme still thought, had always thought that the trial itself was
unavoidable. Indeed she had thought and she did think that it
afforded to Lady Mason the only possible means of escape. Her mind on
the subject, if it could have been analyzed, would probably have been
this. As to the property, that question must for the present stand
in abeyance. It is quite right that it should go to its detestable
owners,--that it should be made over to them at some day not very
distant. But for the present, the trial for that old, long-distant
crime was the subject for them to consider. Could it be wrong to wish
for an acquittal for the sinner,--an acquittal before this world's
bar, seeing that a true verdict had undoubtedly been given before
another bar? Mrs. Orme trusted that no jury would convict her friend.
Let Lady Mason go through that ordeal; and then, when the law had
declared her innocent, let restitution be made.
"It will be very terrible to all if she be condemned," said Sir
Peregrine.
"Very terrible! But Mr. Furnival--"
"Edith, if it comes to that, she will be condemned. Mr. Furnival is a
lawyer and will not say so; but from his countenance, when he speaks
of her, I know that he expects it!"
"Oh, father, do not say so."
"But if it is so--. My love, what is the purport of these courts of
law if it be not to discover the truth, and make it plain to the
light of day?" Poor Sir Peregrine! His innocence in this respect was
perhaps beautiful, but it was very simple. Mr. Aram, could he have
been induced to speak out his mind plainly, would have expressed,
probably, a different opinion.
"But she escaped before," said Mrs. Orme, who was clearly at present
on the same side with Mr. Aram.
"Yes; she did;--by perjury, Edith. And now the penalty of that
further crime awaits her. There was an old poet who said that the
wicked man rarely escapes at last. I believe in my heart that he
spoke the truth."
"Father, that old poet knew nothing of our faith."
Sir Peregrine could not stop to explain, even if he knew how to do
so, that the old poet spoke of punishment in this world, whereas the
faith on which his daughter relied is efficacious for pardon beyond
the grave. It would be much, ay, in one sense everything, if Lady
Mason could be brought to repent of the sin she had committed; but
no such repentance would stay the bitterness of Joseph Mason or
of Samuel Dockwrath. If the property were at once restored, then
repentance might commence. If the property were at once restored,
then the trial might be stayed. It might be possible that Mr. Round
might so act. He felt all this, but he could not argue on it. "I
think, my dear," he said, "that I had better see Mr. Round."
"But you will not tell him?" said Mrs. Orme, sharply.
"No; I am not authorised to do that."
"But he will entice it from you! He is a lawyer, and he will wind
anything out from a plain, chivalrous man of truth and honour."
"My dear, Mr. Round I believe is a good man."
"But if he asks you the question, what will you say?"
"I will tell him to ask me no such question."
"Oh, father, be careful. For her sake be careful. How is it that you
know the truth;--or that I know it? She told it here because in that
way only could she save you from that marriage. Father, she has
sacrificed herself for--for us."
Sir Peregrine when this was said to him got up from his chair and
walked away to the window. He was not angry with her that she so
spoke to him. Nay; he acknowledged inwardly the truth of her words,
and loved her for her constancy. But nevertheless they were very
bitter. How had it come to pass that he was thus indebted to so deep
a criminal? What had he done for her but good?
"Do not go from me," she said, following him. "Do not think me
unkind."
"No, no, no," he answered, striving almost ineffectually to repress a
sob. "You are not unkind."
For two days after that not a word was spoken between them on the
subject, and then he did go to Mr. Round. Not a word on the subject
was spoken between Sir Peregrine and Mrs. Orme; but she was twice at
Orley Farm during the time, and told Lady Mason of the steps which
her father-in-law was taking. "He won't betray me!" Lady Mason had
said. Mrs. Orme had answered this with what best assurance she should
give; but in her heart of hearts she feared that Sir Peregrine would
betray the secret.
It was not a pleasant journey for Sir Peregrine. Indeed it may be
said that no journeys could any longer be pleasant for him. He was
old and worn and feeble; very much older and much more worn than he
had been at the period spoken of in the commencement of this story,
though but a few months had passed over his head since that time. For
him now it would have been preferable to remain in the arm-chair by
the fireside in his own library, receiving such comfort in his old
age as might come to him from the affection of his daughter-in-law
and grandson. But he thought that it behoved him to do this work; and
therefore, old and feeble as he was, he set himself to his task. He
reached the station in London, had himself driven to Bedford Row in a
cab, and soon found himself in the presence of Mr. Round.
[Illustration: Sir Peregrine at Mr. Round's office.]
There was much ceremonial talk between them before Sir Peregrine
could bring himself to declare the purport which had brought him
there. Mr. Round of course protested that he was very sorry for all
this affair. The case was not in his hands personally. He had hoped
many years since that the matter was closed. His client, Mr. Mason of
Groby Park, had insisted that it should be reopened; and now he, Mr.
Round, really hardly knew what to say about it.
"But, Mr. Round, do you think it is quite impossible that the trial
should even now be abandoned?" asked Sir Peregrine very carefully.
"Well, I fear it is. Mason thinks that the property is his, and is
determined to make another struggle for it. I am imputing nothing
wrong to the lady. I really am not in a position to have any opinion
of my own--"
"No, no, no; I understand. Of course your firm is bound to do the
best it can for its client. But, Mr. Round;--I know I am quite safe
with you."
"Well; safe in one way I hope you are. But, Sir Peregrine, you must
of course remember that I am the attorney for the other side,--for
the side to which you are opposed."
"But still;--all that you can want is your client's interest."
"Of course we desire to serve his interest."
"And with that view, Mr. Round, is it not possible that we might come
to some compromise?"
"What;--by giving up part of the property?"
"By giving up all the property," said Sir Peregrine, with
considerable emphasis.
"Whew-w-w." Mr. Round at the moment made no other answer than this,
which terminated in a low whistle.
"Better that, at once, than that she should die broken-hearted," said
Sir Peregrine.
There was then silence between them for a minute or two, after which
Mr. Round, turning himself round in his chair so as to face his
visitor more fully, spoke as follows. "I told you just now, Sir
Peregrine, that I was Mr. Mason's attorney, and I must now tell you,
that as regards this interview between you and me, I will not hold
myself as being in that position. What you have said shall be as
though it had not been said; and as I am not, myself, taking any part
in the proceedings, this may with absolute strictness be the case.
But--"
"If I have said anything that I ought not to have said--" began Sir
Peregrine.
"Allow me for one moment," continued Mr. Round. "The fault is mine,
if there be a fault, as I should have explained to you that the
matter could hardly be discussed with propriety between us."
"Mr. Round, I offer you my apology from the bottom of my heart."
"No, Sir Peregrine. You shall offer me no apology, nor will I accept
any. I know no words strong enough to convey to you my esteem and
respect for your character."
"Sir!"
"But I will ask you to listen to me for a moment. If any compromise
be contemplated, it should be arranged by the advice of Mr. Furnival
and of Mr. Chaffanbrass, and the terms should be settled between Mr.
Aram and my son. But I cannot myself say that I see any possibility
of such a result. It is not however for me to advise. If on that
matter you wish for advice, I think that you had better see Mr.
Furnival."
"Ah!" said Sir Peregrine, telling more and more of the story by every
utterance he made.
"And now it only remains for me to assure you once more that the
words which have been spoken in this room shall be as though they had
not been spoken." And then Mr. Round made it very clear that there
was nothing more to be said between them on the subject of Lady
Mason. Sir Peregrine repeated his apology, collected his hat and
gloves, and with slow step made his way down to his cab, while Mr.
Round absolutely waited upon him till he saw him seated within the
vehicle.
"So Mat is right after all," said the old attorney to himself as he
stood alone with his back to his own fire, thrusting his hands into
his trousers-pockets. "So Mat is right after all!" The meaning of
this exclamation will be plain to my readers. Mat had declared to
his father his conviction that Lady Mason had forged the codicil in
question, and the father was now also convinced that she had done so.
"Unfortunate woman!" he said; "poor, wretched woman!" And then he
began to calculate what might yet be her chances of escape. On the
whole he thought that she would escape. "Twenty years of possession,"
he said to himself "and so excellent a character!" But, nevertheless,
he repeated to himself over and over again that she was a wretched,
miserable woman.
We may say that all the persons most concerned were convinced, or
nearly convinced, of Lady Mason's guilt. Among her own friends Mr.
Furnival had no doubt of it, and Mr. Chaffanbrass and Mr. Aram but
very little; whereas Sir Peregrine and Mrs. Orme of course had none.
On the other side Mr. Mason and Mr. Dockwrath were both fully sure of
the truth, and the two Rounds, father and son, were quite of the same
mind. And yet, except with Dockwrath and Sir Peregrine, the most
honest and the most dishonest of the lot, the opinion was that she
would escape. These were five lawyers concerned, not one of whom gave
to the course of justice credit that it would ascertain the truth,
and not one of whom wished that the truth should be ascertained.
Surely had they been honest-minded in their profession they would
all have so wished;--have so wished, or else have abstained from all
professional intercourse in the matter. I cannot understand how any
gentleman can be willing to use his intellect for the propagation
of untruth, and to be paid for so using it. As to Mr. Chaffanbrass
and Mr. Solomon Aram,--to them the escape of a criminal under their
auspices would of course be a matter of triumph. To such work
for many years had they applied their sharp intellects and legal
knowledge. But of Mr. Furnival;--what shall we say of him?
Sir Peregrine went home very sad at heart, and crept silently back
into his own library. In the evening, when he was alone with Mrs.
Orme, he spoke one word to her. "Edith," he said, "I have seen Mr.
Round. We can do nothing for her there."
"I feared not," said she.
"No; we can do nothing for her there."
After that Sir Peregrine took no step in the matter. What step could
he take? But he sat over his fire in his library, day after day,
thinking over it all, and waiting till those terrible assizes should
have come.