CHAPTER LXXVIII.

THE LAST OF THE LAWYERS.

"I should have done my duty by you, Mr. Mason, which those men have

not, and you would at this moment have been the owner of Orley Farm."

It will easily be known that these words were spoken by Mr.

Dockwrath, and that they were addressed to Joseph Mason. The two

men were seated together in Mr. Mason's lodgings at Alston, late

on the morning after the verdict had been given, and Mr. Dockwrath

was speaking out his mind with sufficient freedom. On the previous

evening he had been content to put up with the misery of the

unsuccessful man, and had not added any reproaches of his own. He

also had been cowed by the verdict, and the two had been wretched and

crestfallen together. But the attorney since that had slept upon the

matter, and had bethought himself that he at any rate would make out

his little bill. He could show that Mr. Mason had ruined their joint

affairs by his adherence to those London attorneys. Had Mr. Mason

listened to the advice of his new adviser all would have been well.

So at least Dockwrath was prepared to declare, finding that by so

doing he would best pave the way for his own important claim.

But Mr. Mason was not a man to be bullied with tame endurance. "The

firm bears the highest name in the profession, sir," he said; "and I

had just grounds for trusting them."

"And what has come of your just grounds, Mr. Mason? Where are you?

That's the question. I say that Round and Crook have thrown you over.

They have been hand and glove with old Furnival through the whole

transaction; and I'll tell you what's more, Mr. Mason. I told you how

it would be from the beginning."

"I'll move for a new trial."

"A new trial; and this a criminal prosecution! She's free of you now

for ever, and Orley Farm will belong to that son of hers till he

chooses to sell it. It's a pity; that's all. I did my duty by you

in a professional way, Mr. Mason; and you won't put the loss on my

shoulders."

"I've been robbed;--damnably robbed, that's all that I know."

"There's no mistake on earth about that, Mr. Mason; you have been

robbed; and the worst of it is, the costs will be so heavy! You'll be

going down to Yorkshire soon I suppose, sir."

"I don't know where I shall go!" said the squire of Groby, not

content to be cross-questioned by the attorney from Hamworth.

"Because it's as well, I suppose, that we should settle something

about the costs before you leave. I don't want to press for my money

exactly now, but I shall be glad to know when I'm to get it."

"If you have any claim on me, Mr. Dockwrath, you can send it to Mr.

Round."

"If I have any claim! What do you mean by that, sir? And I shall

send nothing in to Mr. Round. I have had quite enough of Mr. Round

already. I told you from the beginning, Mr. Mason, that I would have

nothing to do with this affair as connected with Mr. Round. I have

devoted myself entirely to this matter since you were pleased to

engage my services at Groby Park. It is not by my fault that you have

failed. I think, Mr. Mason, you will do me the justice to acknowledge

that." And then Dockwrath was silent for a moment, as though waiting

for an answer.

"I have nothing to say upon the subject, Mr. Dockwrath," said Mason.

"But, by heaven, something must be said. That won't do at all, Mr.

Mason. I presume you do not think that I have been working like a

slave for the last four months for nothing."

Mr. Mason was in truth an honest man, and did not wish that any one

should work on his account for nothing;--much less did he wish that

such a one as Dockwrath should do so. But then, on the other side,

in his present frame of mind he was by no means willing to yield

anything to any one. "I neither deny nor allow your claim, Mr.

Dockwrath," said he. "But I shall pay nothing except through my

regular lawyers. You can send your account to me if you please, but I

shall send it on to Mr. Round without looking at it."

"Oh, that's to be the way, is it? That's your gratitude. Very well,

Mr. Mason; I shall now know what to do. And I think you'll find--"

Here Mr. Dockwrath was interrupted by the lodging-house servant, who

brought in a note for Mr. Mason. It was from Mr. Furnival, and the

girl who delivered it said that the gentleman's messenger was waiting

for an answer.

"SIR," said the note,

A communication has been made to me this morning on the

part of your brother, Mr. Lucius Mason, which may make

it desirable that I should have an interview with you.

If not inconvenient to you, I would ask you to meet me

to-morrow morning at eleven o'clock at the chambers of

your own lawyer, Mr. Round, in Bedford Row. I have

already seen Mr. Round, and find that he can meet us.

I am, sir,

Your very obedient servant,

THOMAS FURNIVAL.

J. Mason, Esq., J.P.

(of Groby Park).

Mr. Furnival when he wrote this note had already been over to Orley

Farm, and had seen Lucius Mason. He had been at the farm almost

before daylight, and had come away with the assured conviction that

the property must be abandoned by his client.

"We need not talk about it, Mr. Furnival," Lucius had said. "It must

be so."

"You have discussed the matter with your mother?"

"No discussion is necessary, but she is quite aware of my intention.

She is prepared to leave the place--for ever."

"But the income--"

"Belongs to my brother Joseph. Mr. Furnival, I think you may

understand that the matter is one in which it is necessary that I

should act, but as to which I trust I may not have to say many words.

If you cannot arrange this for me, I must go to Mr. Round."

Of course Mr. Furnival did understand it all. His client had been

acquitted, and he had triumphed; but he had known for many a long day

that the estate did belong of right to Mr. Mason of Groby; and though

he had not suspected that Lucius would have been so told, he could

not be surprised at the result of such telling. It was clear to him

that Lady Mason had confessed, and that restitution would therefore

be made.

"I will do your bidding," said he.

"And, Mr. Furnival,--if it be possible, spare my mother." Then the

meeting was over, and Mr. Furnival returning to Hamworth wrote his

note to Mr. Joseph Mason.

Mr. Dockwrath had been interrupted by the messenger in the middle

of his threat, but he caught the name of Furnival as the note was

delivered. Then he watched Mr. Mason as he read it and read it again.

"If you please, sir, I was to wait for an answer," said the girl.

Mr. Mason did not know what answer it would behove him to give. He

felt that he was among Philistines while dealing with all these

lawyers, and yet he was at a loss in what way to reply to one without

leaning upon another. "Look at that," he said, sulkily handing the

note to Dockwrath.

"You must see Mr. Furnival, by all means," said Dockwrath. "But--"

"But what?"

"In your place I should not see him in the presence of Mr.

Round,--unless I was attended by an adviser on whom I could rely."

Mr. Mason, having given a few moments' consideration to the matter,

sat himself down and wrote a line to Mr. Furnival, saying that he

would be in Bedford Row at the appointed time.

"I think you are quite right," said Dockwrath.

"But I shall go alone," said Mr. Mason.

"Oh, very well; you will of course judge for yourself. I cannot say

what may be the nature of the communication to be made; but if it be

anything touching the property, you will no doubt jeopardise your own

interests by your imprudence."

"Good morning, Mr. Dockwrath," said Mr. Mason.

"Oh, very well. Good morning, sir. You shall hear from me very

shortly, Mr. Mason; and I must say that, considering everything, I

do not know that I ever came across a gentleman who behaved himself

worse in a peculiar position than you have done in yours." And so

they parted.

Punctually at eleven o'clock on the following day Mr. Mason was in

Bedford Row. "Mr. Furnival is with Mr. Round," said the clerk, "and

will see you in two minutes." Then he was shown into the dingy office

waiting-room, where he sat with his hat in his hand, for rather more

than two minutes.

At that moment Mr. Round was describing to Mr. Furnival the manner

in which he had been visited some weeks since by Sir Peregrine Orme.

"Of course, Mr. Furnival, I knew which way the wind blew when I heard

that."

"She must have told him everything."

"No doubt, no doubt. At any rate he knew it all."

"And what did you say to him?"

"I promised to hold my tongue;--and I kept my promise. Mat knows

nothing about it to this day."

The whole history thus became gradually clear to Mr. Furnival's

mind, and he could understand in what manner that marriage had been

avoided. Mr. Round also understood it, and the two lawyers confessed

together, that though the woman had deserved the punishment which had

come upon her, her character was one which might have graced a better

destiny. "And now, I suppose, my fortunate client may come in," said

Mr. Round. Whereupon the fortunate client was released from his

captivity, and brought into the sitting-room of the senior partner.

"Mr. Mason, Mr. Furnival," said the attorney, as soon as he had

shaken hands with his client. "You know each other very well by name,

gentlemen."

Mr. Mason was very stiff in his bearing and demeanour, but remarked

that he had heard of Mr. Furnival before.

"All the world has heard of him," said Mr. Round. "He hasn't hid

his light under a bushel." Whereupon Mr. Mason bowed, not quite

understanding what was said to him.

"Mr. Mason," began the barrister, "I have a communication to make to

you, very singular in its nature, and of great importance. It is one

which I believe you will regard as being of considerable importance

to yourself, and which is of still higher moment to my--my friend,

Lady Mason."

"Lady Mason, sir--" began the other; but Mr. Furnival stopped him.

"Allow me to interrupt you, Mr. Mason. I think it will be better that

you should hear me before you commit yourself to any expression as to

your relative."

"She is no relative of mine."

"But her son is. However,--if you will allow me, I will go on. Having

this communication to make, I thought it expedient for your own sake

that it should be done in the presence of your own legal adviser and

friend."

"Umph!" grunted the disappointed litigant.

"I have already explained to Mr. Round that which I am about to

explain to you, and he was good enough to express himself as

satisfied with the step which I am taking."

"Quite so, Mr. Mason. Mr. Furnival is behaving, and I believe has

behaved throughout, in a manner becoming the very high position which

he holds in his profession."

"I suppose he has done his best on his side," said Mason.

"Undoubtedly I have,--as I should have done on yours, had it so

chanced that I had been honoured by holding a brief from your

attorneys. But the communication which I am going to make now I make

not as a lawyer but as a friend. Mr. Mason, my client Lady Mason,

and her son Lucius Mason, are prepared to make over to you the full

possession of the estate which they have held under the name of Orley

Farm."

The tidings, as so given, were far from conveying to the sense of the

hearer the full information which they bore. He heard the words, and

at the moment conceived that Orley Farm was intended to come into

his hands by some process to which it was thought desirable that

he should be brought to agree. He was to be induced to buy it, or

to be bought over from further opposition by some concession of an

indefinitely future title. But that the estate was to become his

at once, without purchase, and by the mere free will of his hated

relatives, was an idea that he did not realise.

"Mr. Furnival," he said, "what future steps I shall take I do not yet

know. That I have been robbed of my property I am as firmly convinced

now as ever. But I tell you fairly, and I tell Mr. Round so too, that

I will have no dealings with that woman."

"Your father's widow, sir," said Mr. Furnival, "is an unhappy lady,

who is now doing her best to atone for the only fault of which I

believe her to have been guilty. If you were not unreasonable as well

as angry, you would understand that the proposition which I am now

making to you is one which should force you to forgive any injury

which she may hitherto have done to you. Your half-brother Lucius

Mason has instructed me to make over to you the possession of Orley

Farm." These last words Mr. Furnival uttered very slowly, fixing his

keen grey eyes full upon the face of Joseph Mason as he did so, and

then turning round to the attorney he said, "I presume your client

will understand me now."

"The estate is yours, Mr. Mason," said Round. "You have nothing to do

but to take possession of it."

"What do you mean?" said Mason, turning round upon Furnival.

"Exactly what I say. Your half-brother Lucius surrenders to you the

estate."

"Without payment?"

"Yes; without payment. On his doing so you will of course absolve him

from all liability on account of the proceeds of the property while

in his hands."

"That will be a matter of course," said Mr. Round.

"Then she has robbed me," said Mason, jumping up to his feet. "By

----, the will was forged after all."

"Mr. Mason," said Mr. Round, "if you have a spark of generosity

in you, you will accept the offer made to you without asking any

question. By no such questioning can you do yourself any good,--nor

can you do that poor lady any harm."

"I knew it was so," he said loudly, and as he spoke he twice walked

the length of the room. "I knew it was so;--twenty years ago I

said the same. She forged the will. I ask you, as my lawyer, Mr.

Round,--did she not forge the will herself?"

"I shall answer no such question, Mr. Mason."

"Then by heavens I'll expose you. If I spend the whole value of the

estate in doing it I'll expose you, and have her punished yet. The

slippery villain! For twenty years she has robbed me."

"Mr. Mason, you are forgetting yourself in your passion," said Mr.

Furnival. "What you have to look for now is the recovery of the

property." But here Mr. Furnival showed that he had not made himself

master of Joseph Mason's character.

"No," shouted the angry man;--"no, by heaven. What I have first to

look to is her punishment, and that of those who have assisted her. I

knew she had done it,--and Dockwrath knew it. Had I trusted him, she

would now have been in gaol."

Mr. Furnival and Mr. Round were both desirous of having the matter

quietly arranged, and with this view were willing to put up with

much. The man had been ill used. When he declared for the fortieth

time that he had been robbed for twenty years, they could not deny

it. When with horrid oaths he swore that that will had been a

forgery, they could not contradict him. When he reviled the laws of

his country, which had done so much to facilitate the escape of a

criminal, they had no arguments to prove that he was wrong. They bore

with him in his rage, hoping that a sense of his own self-interest

might induce him to listen to reason. But it was all in vain. The

property was sweet, but that sweetness was tasteless when compared to

the sweetness of revenge.

"Nothing shall make me tamper with justice;--nothing," said he.

"But even if it were as you say, you cannot do anything to her," said

Round.

"I'll try," said Mason. "You have been my attorney, and what you know

in the matter you are bound to tell. And I'll make you tell, sir."

"Upon my word," said Round, "this is beyond bearing. Mr. Mason, I

must trouble you to walk out of my office." And then he rang the

bell. "Tell Mr. Mat I want to see him." But before that younger

partner had joined his father Joseph Mason had gone. "Mat," said the

old man, "I don't interfere with you in many things, but on this I

must insist. As long as my name is in the firm Mr. Joseph Mason of

Groby shall not be among our customers."

"The man's a fool," said Mr. Furnival. "The end of all that will be

that two years will go by before he gets his property; and, in the

meantime, the house and all about it will go to ruin."

In these days there was a delightful family concord between Mr.

Furnival and his wife, and perhaps we may be allowed to hope that the

peace was permanent. Martha Biggs had not been in Harley Street since

we last saw her there, and was now walking round Red Lion Square by

the hour with some kindred spirit, complaining bitterly of the return

which had been made for her friendship. "What I endured, and what I

was prepared to endure for that woman, no breathing creature can ever

know," said Martha Biggs, to that other Martha; "and now--"

"I suppose the fact is he don't like to see you there," said the

other.

"And is that a reason?" said our Martha. "Had I been in her place I

would not have put my foot in his house again till I was assured that

my friend should be as welcome there as myself. But then, perhaps, my

ideas of friendship may be called romantic."

But though there were heart-burnings and war in Red Lion Square,

there was sweet peace in Harley Street. Mrs. Furnival had learned

that beyond all doubt Lady Mason was an unfortunate woman on whose

behalf her husband was using his best energies as a lawyer; and

though rumours had begun to reach her that were very injurious to the

lady's character, she did not on that account feel animosity against

her. Had Lady Mason been guilty of all the sins in the calendar

except one, Mrs. Furnival could find it within her heart to forgive

her.

But Sophia was now more interested about Lady Mason than was her

mother, and during those days of the trial was much more eager to

learn the news as it became known. She had said nothing to her mother

about Lucius, nor had she said anything as to Augustus Staveley. Miss

Furnival was a lady who on such subjects did not want the assistance

of a mother's counsel. Then, early on the morning that followed the

trial, they heard the verdict and knew that Lady Mason was free.

"I am so glad," said Mrs. Furnival; "and I am sure it was your papa's

doing."

"But we will hope that she was really innocent," said Sophia.

"Oh, yes; of course; and so I suppose she was. I am sure I hope so.

But, nevertheless, we all know that it was going very much against

her."

"I believe papa never thought she was guilty for a moment."

"I don't know, my dear; your papa never talks of the clients for whom

he is engaged. But what a thing it is for Lucius! He would have lost

every acre of the property."

"Yes; it's a great thing for him, certainly." And then she began to

consider whether the standing held by Lucius Mason in the world was

not even yet somewhat precarious.

It was on the same day--in the evening--that she received her lover's

letter. She was alone when she read it, and she made herself quite

master of its contents before she sat herself to think in what way it

would be expedient that she should act. "I am bound to relinquish to

my brother-in-law my title to Orley Farm." Why should he be so bound,

unless--? And then she also came to that conclusion which Mr. Round

had reached, and which Joseph Mason had reached, when they heard that

the property was to be given up. "Yes, Sophia, I am a beggar," the

letter went on to say. She was very sorry, deeply sorry;--so, at

least, she said to herself. As she sat there alone, she took out her

handkerchief and pressed it to her eyes. Then, having restored it to

her pocket, after moderate use, she refolded her letter, and put that

into the same receptacle.

"Papa," said she, that evening, "what will Mr. Lucius Mason do now?

will he remain at Orley Farm?"

"No, my dear. He will leave Orley Farm, and, I think, will go abroad

with his mother."

"And who will have Orley Farm?"

"His brother Joseph, I believe."

"And what will Lucius have?"

"I cannot say. I do not know that he will have anything. His mother

has an income of her own, and he, I suppose, will go into some

profession."

"Oh, indeed. Is not that very sad for him, poor fellow?" In answer to

which her father made no remark.

That night, in her own room, she answered her lover's letter, and her

answer was as follows:--

Harley Street, March, 18--.

MY DEAR MR. MASON,

I need hardly tell you that I was grieved to the heart by

the tidings conveyed in your letter. I will not ask you

for that secret which you withhold from me, feeling that

I have no title to inquire into it; nor will I attempt to

guess at the cause which induces you to give up to your

brother the property which you were always taught to

regard as your own. That you are actuated by noble motives

I am sure; and you may be sure of this, that I shall

respect you quite as highly in your adversity as I have

ever done in your prosperity. That you will make your way

in the world, I shall never doubt; and it may be that the

labour which you will now encounter will raise you to

higher standing than any you could have achieved, had the

property remained in your possession.

I think you are right in saying, with reference to our

mutual regard for each other, that neither should be

held as having any claim upon the other. Under present

circumstances, any such claim would be very silly. Nothing

would hamper you in your future career so much as a long

marriage engagement; and for myself, I am aware that the

sorrow and solicitude thence arising would be more than I

could support. Apart from this, also, I feel certain that

I should never obtain my father's sanction for such an

engagement, nor could I make it, unless he sanctioned it.

I feel so satisfied that you will see the truth of this,

that I need not trouble you, and harass my own heart by

pursuing the subject any further.

My feelings of friendship for you--of affectionate

friendship--will be as true as ever. I shall look to your

future career with great hope, and shall hear of your

success with the utmost satisfaction. And I trust that

the time may come, at no very distant date, when we may

all welcome your return to London, and show you that our

regard for you has never been diminished.

May God bless and preserve you in the trials which are

before you, and carry you through them with honour and

safety. Wherever you may be I shall watch for tidings of

you with anxiety, and always hear them with gratification.

I need hardly bid you remember that you have no more

affectionate friend

Than yours always most sincerely,

SOPHIA FURNIVAL.

P.S.--I believe that a meeting between us at the present

moment would only cause pain to both of us. It might drive

you to speak of things which should be wrapped in silence.

At any rate, I am sure that you will not press it on me.

Lucius, when he received this letter, was living with his mother in

lodgings near Finsbury Circus, and the letter had been redirected

from Hamworth to a post-office in that neighbourhood. It was his

intention to take his mother with him to a small town on one of the

rivers that feed the Rhine, and there remain hidden till he could

find some means by which he might earn his bread. He was sitting with

her in the evening, with two dull tallow candles on the table between

them, when his messenger brought the letter to him. He read it in

silence very deliberately, then crushed it in his hand, and threw it

from him with violence into the fire.

"I hope there is nothing further to distress you, Lucius," said his

mother, looking up into his face as though she were imploring his

confidence.

"No, nothing; nothing that matters. It is an affair quite private to

myself."

Sir Peregrine had spoken with great truth when he declared that

Lucius Mason was able to bear adversity. This last blow had now come

upon him, but he made no wailings as to his misery, nor did he say

a word further on the subject. His mother watched the paper as the

flame caught it and reduced it to an ash; but she asked no further

question. She knew that her position with him did not permit of her

asking, or even hoping, for his confidence.

"I had no right to expect it would be otherwise," he said to himself.

But even to himself he spoke no word of reproach against Miss

Furnival. He had realised the circumstances by which he was

surrounded, and had made up his mind to bear their result.

As for Miss Furnival, we may as well declare here that she did not

become Mrs. Staveley. Our old friend Augustus conceived that he had

received a sufficient answer on the occasion of his last visit to

Harley Street, and did not repeat it immediately. Such little scenes

as that which took place there had not been uncommon in his life; and

when in after months he looked back upon the affair, he counted it up

as one of those miraculous escapes which had marked his career.

Orley Farm · 第 78 / 80 章