"Fly! Fly!--For God's sake fly! Lose not one moment of the precious
respite which, by incredible efforts, I have contrived to secure
you--a respite of but a few hours--and wrung from heartlessness and
rapacity. In justice, much injured man! to yourself--to all you
hold dear upon earth--to the precious interests intrusted to your
keeping, and involved in your destruction--again I say _Fly_! Quit
the country, if it be but for never so short a time, till you or
your friends shall have succeeded in arranging your disordered
affairs. Regard this hasty and perhaps incoherent note, in what
light you please--but I tell you it comes, _in sacred confidence_,
from a firm and inalienable friend, whose present desperate
exertions in your behalf you will one day perhaps be able to
appreciate. Once more I conjure you to fly!--From other and greater
dangers than you at present apprehend. _I see the rack preparing
for you!_--Will you stay to be tortured?--and in the presence of
the incomparable beings who--but my feelings overpower me! Indeed,
Mr. Aubrey, if you disregard this intimation through weak fears as
to its writer's sincerity, or a far weaker, and a wild, notion of
Quixotic honor and heroism--remember, in the moment of being
overwhelmed, _this note_--and then do justice to its writer.--Your
faithful, unhappy, _distrusted_ friend,
"O. G.
"P.S.--For God's sake burn, or otherwise destroy, this letter, as
soon as you shall have read it."
Such was the letter which got into Mr. Aubrey's hands just as the time
which had been fixed by Messrs. Quirk, Gammon, and Snap, for payment of
their bill, was expiring, and which occasioned him, as may be easily
imagined, dreadful disquietude. It had found him in a state of the
deepest depression--but yet vigorously striving to preserve, in the
presence of his wife and sister, a semblance of composure and
cheerfulness. More to pacify them than to satisfy himself, he had walked
about town during the two preceding days till nearly dropping with
exhaustion, in fruitless quest of those who might be disposed to advance
him a thousand pounds on his own personal security, and on terms he
scarce cared how exorbitant, to free him, at all events for a while,
from his present exigency. All had been, however, in vain--indeed he had
had no hopes from the first. And what was then to be done? His soul
seemed dying away within him. At times he almost lost all consciousness
of his situation, and of what was passing around him. It appeared to be
the will of Heaven that his misfortunes should press him down, as it
were, by inches into the dust, and crush him. Those there were, he well
knew, who needed but to be apprised of his circumstances, to step
forward and generously relieve him from his difficulties. But where was
all that to end? What real good could it serve? Awfully involved as he
was already--one, alone, of his friends being at that moment under a
liability which must be discharged within a few months, of nearly
_eleven thousand pounds_--was he to place others in a similar situation?
What earthly prospect had he of ever repaying them? Lamentable as was
his position, his soul recoiled from the bare thought. But then came
before his anguished eye, his wife--his sister--his children; and he
flung himself, in an ecstasy, on his knees, remaining long
prostrate--and, for a while, _the heaven that was over his head seemed
to be brass, and the earth that was under him, iron_. His heart might be
wrung, however, and his spirit heavy and darkened; but no extent or
depth of misery could cause him to forget those principles of honor and
integrity by which all his life had been regulated. He resolved,
therefore, to submit to the stroke apparently impending over him, with
calmness, as to inevitable ruin; nor would he hear of any further
applications to his friends, which, indeed, he felt would be only
encouragement to those who held him in thraldom, to renew their
exactions, when they found each succeeding pressure successful. Poor
Kate had told him, as soon as her letter had been put into the post,
with trembling apprehension as to the consequences, of her application
to Lady Stratton; but did she think her fond broken-hearted brother
could chide her? He looked at her for a moment, with quivering lip and
eyes blinded with tears--and then wrung her hand, simply expressing a
hope, that, since the step _had_ been taken, it might be, in some
measure at least, successful.
Mr. Gammon's letter, as I have already intimated, filled Mr. Aubrey with
inexpressible alarm. Again and again he read it over with increasing
agitation, and at the same time uncertain as to its true character and
import--as to the real motive and object of its writer. Was he guilty of
the duplicity which Mrs. Aubrey and Kate so vehemently imputed to him?
Was he actuated by revenge? Or was he, as represented by Mr. Quirk's
letter, overpowered by his partners, and still sincere in his wishes to
shield Mr. Aubrey from their rapacity? Or was Mr. Gammon suggesting
_flight_ only as a snare? Was Mr. Aubrey to be seduced into an act
warranting them in proceeding to instant extremities against him? What
could be the other matters so darkly alluded to in the letter? Were they
the two promissory notes of five thousand pounds each, which he had
deposited with Mr. Gammon, who at length was peremptorily required by
Mr. Titmouse to surrender them up, and permit them to be put in suit?
They were payable _on demand_--he shuddered! Might it be, that Titmouse
was desperately in want of money, and had therefore overpowered the
scruples of Gammon, and disregarded the sacred pledge under which he
assured Titmouse the notes had been given? Mr. Aubrey rejoiced that Mr.
Gammon's letter had been placed in his hands by the servant when alone
in his study, whither he had gone to write a note to Mr. Runnington; and
resolved not to apprise Mrs. Aubrey and Kate of its arrival. The
_fourth_ day after the receipt of Messrs. Quirk and Snap's letter had
now elapsed. Mr. Aubrey did not venture to quit the house. All of them
were, as may well be imagined, in a state of pitiable distress, and
agitation, and suspense. Thus also passed the _fifth_ day--still the
blow descended not. Was the arm extended to inflict it, held back,
still, by Mr. Gammon continuing thus the "_incredible efforts_" spoken
of in his note?
The _sixth_ morning dawned on the wretched family. They all rose at a
somewhat earlier hour than usual. They could scarce touch the spare and
simple breakfast spread before them, nor enjoy--nay, they could hardly
bear--the prattle and gambols of the lively little ones, Charles and
Agnes, whom at length they despatched back again to the nursery; for
they were, in the highest possible state of excitement and anxiety,
awaiting the arrival of the postman--this being the first morning on
which they could, in the ordinary course, receive a letter from Lady
Stratton in answer to that of Kate. 'T was now a little past ten. The
breakfast things had been removed; and on hearing the agitating though
long-expected _rat-tat_ of the postman a few doors down the street, Mrs.
Aubrey and Kate started to the window. Their hearts beat violently when
their eye at length caught sight of him, with his arm full of letters,
knocking at the door opposite. Oh, had he a letter for _them_? How long
were their opposite neighbors in answering his summons, and in paying
the postage! Then he stood for nearly a minute laughing with a servant
in the adjoining area--intolerable indeed was all this, to the agitated
beings who were thus panting for his arrival! Presently he glanced at
the packet in his hand, and taking one of the letters from it, crossed
the street, making for their door.
"Heavens! He _has_ a letter!" cried Miss Aubrey, excitedly--"I sha'n't
wait for Fanny!" and, flying to the front door, plucked it open the
instant after the postman had knocked. He touched his hat on seeing,
instead of a servant, the beautiful but agitated lady, who stretched
forth her hand and took the letter, exclaiming, "Fanny will pay
you"--but in an instant her cheek was blanched, and she nearly fell to
the floor, at sight of the black border, the black seal, and the
handwriting, which she did not at the instant recognize. For a moment or
two she seemed to have lost the power of speech or motion; but presently
her trembling limbs bore her into the parlor. "Oh! Charles--Agnes--I
feel as if I were going to _die_--look"--she faltered, sinking into the
nearest chair, while Mr. Aubrey, with much agitation, took the
ominous-looking letter which she extended towards him. 'T was from Mr.
Parkinson; and told the news of Lady Stratton's death, and the
lamentable circumstances attending it; that--as the reader has
heard--she had died intestate--and that Mr. Titmouse had, as next of
kin, become entitled to administration to her effects. All this
disastrous intelligence was conveyed in a very few hurried lines. "Oh,
my God!" exclaimed Mr. Aubrey, on having glanced over them. His color
fled, and he pressed his hand against his forehead. "She is dead!" said
he, in a low tone, at the same time giving Kate the letter, and
hastening to Mrs. Aubrey, who seemed nearly fainting. Each had uttered a
faint scream on hearing his words. Mrs. Aubrey swooned in his arms
--and Kate sat like a statue, without even glancing at the fatal letter
which she held in her hand, but gazing in a sort of stupor at her
brother. She was unable to rise to Mrs. Aubrey's assistance--of whose
state, indeed, she appeared, from her vacant eye, to be hardly aware. At
length a slight sigh announced the returning consciousness of Mrs.
Aubrey; and at the same time Miss Aubrey, with a manifestly desperate
effort, regained her consciousness, and with a cheek white as the paper
at which she was looking, read it over.
"This is very--very--dreadful--Heaven is forsaking us!" at length she
murmured, gazing wofully at her brother and sister.
"Say not so--but rather God's will be done," faltered Mr. Aubrey, his
voice and his countenance evincing the depth of his affliction. "God
help us!" he added in a tone which at length, thrilling through the
overcharged heart of his sister, caused her to weep bitterly; and if
ever there was a mournful scene, it was that which ensued, ere this
doomed family, slowly recovering from the first stunning effects of the
shock which they had just received, had become aware of the full extent
of their misery. They had ever felt towards Lady Stratton--who, as has
been already said, had been poor Kate's godmother--as towards a parent;
and their affection had been doubled after the death of Mrs. Aubrey. Now
she was _gone_; she who would have stood for a little while at least
between them and ruin, was gone! And by an inscrutable and awful
Providence, that which she had sacredly destined to them, and made great
sacrifices to secure to them--and which would have effectually shielded
them from the cruelty and rapacity of their enemies--had been diverted
from them, into the coffers of the most selfish and worthless of
mankind--who seemed, indeed, as if he had been called into existence
only to effect their ruin; even, as it were, _the messenger of Satan to
buffet them_! At length, however, the first natural transports of their
grief having subsided, their stricken hearts returned to their
allegiance towards Heaven; and Mr. Aubrey, whose constancy at once
strengthened and encouraged his partners in affliction, with many
expressions of sincere and confident piety and resignation reminded them
that they were in the hands of God, who intended all earthly
suffering--however unaccountable--however harsh and apparently
undeserved its infliction--to contribute infallibly to the ultimate
benefit of His children. And he reminded them, on that melancholy
occasion, of the example afforded by one whose griefs had far
transcended theirs--the patriarch Job; on whom were suddenly--and to him
apparently without any reason or motive, except the infliction of
evil--accumulated almost every species of misfortune which could befall
humanity. The sudden and total loss of his substance, and of all his
servants, he appears to have borne with fortitude. At length, however,
was announced to him the loss of all his sons and daughters----
_"Then Job arose and rent his mantle, and shaved his head,
and fell down upon the ground and worshipped,
"And said, Naked came I out of my mother's womb, and naked
shall I return thither: the Lord gave, and the Lord hath
taken away: blessed be the name of the Lord.
"In all this Job sinned not, nor charged God foolishly."_
Out of respect to the memory of their dear, venerable, departed friend,
they drew down all the blinds of their little house, thereby spreading
around them a gloom similar to that within. A sad, a mournful little
group they looked! This last sorrow seemed for a while to divert their
thoughts from the peril which momentarily menaced them. They talked with
frequent emotion, and with many tears, of their late friend--recalling,
fondly, innumerable little traits of her gentle and benignant character.
Towards the close of the day their souls were subdued into resignation
to the will of the all-wise Disposer of events: they had, in some
measure, realized the consolations of an enlightened and scriptural
piety.
They met the next morning, at breakfast, with a melancholy composure.
The blinds being drawn down, prevented the bright sunshine out of doors
from entering into the little room where their frugal breakfast was
spread, and where prevailed a gloom more in unison with their saddened
feelings. To all who sat round the table, except little Charles, the
repast was slight indeed: he had shortly before begun to breakfast
down-stairs, instead of in the nursery; and, merry little thing!--all
unconscious of the destitution to which, in all human probability, he
was destined--and of the misery which oppressed and was crushing his
parents--he was rattling away cheerfully, as if nothing could disturb or
interrupt the light-heartedness of childhood. They all started on
hearing the unexpected knock of the general postman. He had brought them
a letter from Dr. Tatham; who, it seemed, was aware of that which had
been the day before despatched to them by Mr. Parkinson. The little
doctor's letter was exceedingly touching and beautiful; and it was a
good while before they could complete its perusal, owing to the emotion
which it occasioned them. 'T was indeed full of tender sympathy--of
instructive incentives to resignation to the will of God.
"Is not that indeed the language of a devout and venerable minister of
God?" said Mr. Aubrey--"whose figure is daily brightening with the glory
reflected from the heaven which he is so rapidly approaching? In the
order of nature, a few short years must see him, also, removed from
us."
"Then we shall indeed be desolate!" said Miss Aubrey, weeping bitterly.
"Heaven," continued her brother, "is speaking to us through one of its
ministers in this letter! Let us listen in reverent humility!" They
remained silent for some moments, Mr. Aubrey re-perusing the long and
closely written letter of which he had been speaking. Presently he heard
a knock at the street door--an ordinary single knock--such as was by no
means unusual at that period of the morning; yet he scarce knew why--it
disconcerted him. He kept, however, his eye upon the letter, while he
heard Fanny opening the door--then a word or two whispered--after which
the parlor door was hastily opened, and Fanny stood there, pale as
death, and unable, evidently from fright, to speak--a heavy step was
heard in the passage--and then there stood behind the terror-stricken
girl a tall stout man in a drab great-coat, with a slouched hat, and a
thick walking-stick in his hand--looking over her shoulder into the
parlor, whose dismayed occupants soon shared the panic of poor Fanny.
"Beg your pardon, sir," said he, civilly advancing into the room, and
removing his hat--"is your name Charles Aubrey?"
"It is, sir," said Mr. Aubrey, rising from his chair--by which time a
second man was standing at the door.
"You're my prisoner, sir," said the man, stepping close up to the
wretched Aubrey, and touching him on the shoulder, at the same time
holding out a thin slip of paper--the warrant by virtue of which he was
then acting. The moment that he advanced towards Mr. Aubrey, a dreadful
shriek burst from Mrs. Aubrey and Kate, who sprang forward, and threw
their arms wildly round him. He implored them to restrain their
feelings--though evidently greatly agitated himself.
"Will you let me look at your warrant?" said he, mildly, to the man who
had arrested him, and remained standing close beside him. Mr. Aubrey,
glancing over the fatal slip of paper, saw that he was arrested for
fourteen hundred pounds and upwards at the suit of Messrs. Quirk,
Gammon, and Snap.[6]
"You see, sir, it's only my duty to do this here," said the officer,
respectfully, apparently touched by the agony of the two beautiful women
who still clung wildly round one about to be torn ruthlessly from their
arms;--"don't take on so, ladies--there 's no great harm done yet."
"For mercy's sake, Agnes! Kate! as you love me!--Be calm! You afflict me
beyond measure," said Mr. Aubrey, who, though he had grown very pale,
yet preserved under the circumstances a remarkable degree of
self-possession. 'T was, however, a scene which he had been endeavoring
to realize to himself, and prepare for daily, if not hourly, for the
last week.
"Oh, mercy! mercy!--for God's sake have mercy on him! On us!"--exclaimed
Mrs. Aubrey and Kate.
"Oh, good men! kind men!--have mercy!" cried Kate, desperately--"What
are you going to do with him?"
"No harm, miss, you may depend on 't--only he must go with us, seeing we
're _obligated_ to take him."
"For Heaven's sake, don't--don't, for mercy's sake!"--cried Kate,
turning her agonized face towards the man--her hair partially
dishevelled, and her arms still clasping her brother with frantic
energy. Mrs. Aubrey had swooned, and lay insensible in her husband's
arms, supported by his knee; while Fanny, herself half-distracted, was
striving to restore her by rubbing her cold hands.
"Lord, ladies! don't--don't take on in this here way--you're only
a-hurting of yourselves, and you don't do the gentleman any good, you
know--'cause, in course, he's all the sorrier for going," said the
second man, who had by this time entered the room, and stood looking on
concernedly. But Miss Aubrey repeated her inquiries with wild and
frantic impetuosity, for some time not aware that Mrs. Aubrey lay
insensible beside her.
"Jemmy--run and fetch the lady a sup of water from the kitchen--she's
gone into a dead faint--run, my man!" said the officer to his follower,
who immediately obeyed him, and presently returned with a glass of
water; by which time, both Kate, and her brother, and Fanny, were
endeavoring, with great agitation, to restore Mrs. Aubrey, whose
prolonged swoon greatly alarmed them, and in whose sufferings, the sense
of their own seemed for a while absorbed. The two men stood by, grasping
their huge walking-sticks, and their hats, in silence. At length Mrs.
Aubrey showed symptoms of recovery--uttering a long deep sigh.
"I say--master," at length whispered the follower, "I'll tell you what
it is--this here seems a bad business, don't it?"
"Jemmy, Jemmy!" replied his master, sternly, "You a'n't got half the
pluck of a _bum_!--There's nothing in all this when one's used to it, as
I am."
"P'r'aps the gemman don't rightly owe the money, after all."
"Don't he? And _they've_ sworn he _does_?--Come, come, Jem, no chaffing!
The sooner (I'm thinking) we have him off from all this here blubbering,
the better."
"Bless'd if ever I see'd two such beautiful women afore. I don't half
like it; I wish we'd nabbed him in the street--and" he lowered his
whisper--"if there's _much_ o' this here sort o' work to be done, I've
had enough of being a bum already, an' 'll go back to my business
again, bad as times is!"
"Kind--good men!" said Kate, approaching them, and speaking with forced
calmness--pushing aside her disordered hair from her pale cheeks, "Can't
you leave him here--only a day longer?"
"Can't, miss--it's quite _un_possible; it's not to be done for no money
short of debt and costs," said the officer, respectfully, but rather
doggedly--as if he were getting tired of the scene--"one would think we
were a-going to murder the gemman! Once for all, if so be as he will
only go as a gemman should, to my little place in Chancery-Lane--(my
name's Grab, miss, at your service, and there a'n't a better conducted
lock-up nor mine in London, I assure you, nor where debtors is more
comfortably looked arter)--he's no need to be there above a day or
two--it may be less--and of course his friends will come and bail him
out; so _don't_ be a-going on so when it's no manner o' use!"
"Charles! My love!" murmured Mrs. Aubrey, faintly--"they surely will not
separate us? Oh! let us go together; I don't care where we go to, so
long as I am with you."
"Do not ask it, my darling! my heart's love!" replied Mr. Aubrey,
tenderly, as he supported her in his arms, and against his knee--and a
tear fell from his eye upon her cheek--"I shall be exposed to but little
inconvenience, I am certain; there can be no violence or insult offered
me so long as I submit myself peaceably to the laws! And I shall soon,
please God, be back!"
"Oh, Charles! I shall die--I shall never survive seeing you carried
away!" she replied--and her manner was becoming increasingly vehement.
"Agnes, Agnes!" said her husband, reprovingly, "the mother must not
desert her children; my heart will ache every moment that I am absent,
if I think that my dear little ones have not a mother's protection."
"Kate will take care of them, love!" said Mrs. Aubrey, faintly; and her
husband tenderly kissed her forehead. While this hurried colloquy
between the wretched couple was proceeding, Kate was talking in low but
impassioned tones to the two officers, who listened to her respectfully,
but shook their heads.
"No, miss--it _can't_ be; it can't indeed."
"But you shall have _everything_ in the house for your security--I have
still a good many handsome dresses; jewels, all--all; surely they will
produce _something_; and then there's plate, and books, and
furniture--you can't think Mr. Aubrey's going basely to run away!"----
"If, as how, miss, (you see,) it was only ourselves that you had to do
with--(but, Lord love you, miss! we 're only officers, and has our duty
to do, and _must_ do it!)--why, we'd go a little out of our way for to
oblige a lady; but the people you must go to is the gemmen whose names
is here," pointing to the warrant; "they're the people as the money's
owing to--Quirk, Gamm"----
"Don't name them! They are fiends! They are villains! They are robbing,
and then ruining, my wretched brother!" exclaimed Miss Aubrey, with
dreadful vehemence.
"Kate, Kate!" cried Mr. Aubrey, kindly but peremptorily--"in mercy to
me, be silent! Restrain your feelings, or really I must hasten my
departure."
"Oh, Charles!" faltered Miss Aubrey, sinking down on a chair exhausted,
and burying her face in her handkerchief.
"Now, sir--if _you_ please," commenced Grab, turning to Mr. Aubrey, "we
must be thinking of going, seeing, I expect, I've another job on hand
to-day; would you prefer coaching, or walking it? Excuse me, sir--I've
seen many such things as this; and I know it's only a haggrawating of
your feelings to be stopping here--the longer the worse! What must be,
had better be done at once, and got over with. I've been a-telling this
here young lady a many times, that it's no use fretting--and that in
course you'll be soon back again, when you've done what's needful; so
hadn't my man here better go and get a coach?"
"It is so, indeed!" exclaimed Mr. Aubrey, with a profound sigh--and
endeavored for some time by all the means in his power to soothe and
pacify his wretched companions.
"Can I speak a word with you alone, before I go?" he presently inquired
of the officer.
"In course, sir," replied Grab; and promising to return within a minute
or two's time, Mr. Aubrey quitted the room with Grab close at his heels;
and presently they were both standing in his little study.
"Betwixt ourselves, sir," quoth Grab, in a confidential tone, "you've
_rather_ keen hands to deal with;" here he laid his finger along his
nose, and winked his eye--"and you'll lose no time in turning yourself
about. You understand, sir?"
"Perfectly," replied Mr. Aubrey, with a sigh. "Who gave you your
instructions in this matter?"
"Mr. Snap--the junior partner--it was him that brought this here warrant
to me"----
"Are you sure? Was it not Mr. Gammon?"
"No, sir--Snap--Snap; that little cockatoo of a chap. Mr. Gammon called
at my office half an hour afterwards, to be sure"----
"I thought so," interrupted Mr. Aubrey, quickly, his face flushing, and
feeling relieved from a vast pressure.
"Ay," continued Grab, phlegmatically, "_he'll_ see you don't come to
much harm in this matter"----
"What do you mean?" inquired Mr. Aubrey, with surprise.
"Lord! I could tell by his way. He called to say that, since they had
resolved to go agin you, he hoped, we 'd show you every attention, and
deal easy by you"----
"Indeed!"
"Ay--indeed! And I think he said it was a cruel business--nay, I'm
_sure_ he did; and that, as for him, he washed his hands on 't!" Mr.
Aubrey seemed confounded.
"I don't somehow think him and his partners are on the best of terms
together--but that's no business o' mine, you know, sir! And now, sir,
excuse me, but we must be jogging."
"But, my friend, is there really no way," inquired Mr. Aubrey, with
manifest perturbation, "by which I can delay accompanying you for a few
hours"----
"Oh can't, sir--_un_possible!"
"You can remain in possession here--I will be in your custody--I have a
little plate, books, and furniture, which would surely stand sufficient
security"----
"It 's no use, sir; go you must--and that without much longer
shilly-shallying. It's no use!"
Aubrey seemed for a moment overpowered by his emotions.
"I fear, myself, that there is no alternative," said he; "but it will
almost break the hearts of those ladies--one of whom is my wife"----His
voice faltered.
"You take my advice, sir! Let my man start off for a coach--you have a
shirt or two put up, and an amusing book--or a bit of a cribbage-board,
or a pack of cards, if they're at hand--and give 'em the slip; if you'll
believe me, sir, it 's much the best way; and when you're once out o'
the house, they'll come to, and make up their minds to it--never fear
'em."
"Send, then, for a coach--delay, I see, is worse than useless," said he,
hastily, hearing steps approaching the study door, which was thrust
open, and Mrs. Aubrey and Miss Aubrey entered, unable any longer to
endure his absence--and as if fearful lest, in mercy to them, he should
be contriving to leave them secretly. Grab, having despatched his
follower for a coach, at Mr. Aubrey's earnest request to be left alone
for a few minutes, withdrew--but first cast a keen scrutinizing eye at
the window--and then the chimney--and then, having closed the door,
stood outside, in a position which commanded both door and window.
"Now, my own Agnes! my sweet Kate!" commenced Aubrey, in a low, earnest
tone, having bolted the door to secure themselves from interruption
during the few precious moments which remained to them before the
arrival of the coach--"I must, within a very few minutes, leave you!
Remember--remember, loves!--I am unfortunate, but, I am not
disgraced!--I look on this as a dispensation of Providence--an
infinitely wise, and good Providence; let us all learn submission, and
resignation! Whether or not we are really the victims of treachery and
hypocrisy, I am unable at present to tell; but let us learn to bear this
last crowning indignity with the fortitude of Christians!--relying on
it, that God will overrule the most trying and disastrous events for our
eventual good! Kneel down! Let us bow before the throne of Heaven, and
supplicate its blessing and support, in this our greatest extremity!" He
said this calmly; but his face was deadly pale, and his voice
faltered--while they clung round him and heaved convulsive sobs, as,
half unconsciously, they sank on their knees with him. Then they
rose--and certainly a gracious Providence had not listened in vain to
the earnest, heartfelt cries uttered by those persecuted and
heart-broken beings; for they felt a sense of composure stealing over
their troubled bosoms--as if they had seen for a moment a bright light
glancing through the gloom of their sorrows. Yet poor nature was
wrung--wrung indeed! Mr. Aubrey proceeded to make some little
preparations for his departure--putting a five-pound note into his
pocket--and leaving but little more behind him; and the servant being
summoned into the room, was despatched to put up a change of linen
for him. He then implored and conjured them, as they loved him, to
struggle against their feelings;--and to rely upon his pledge to
send them, within two hours at the furthest, intelligence of his
movements--assuring them of his confident belief, that in less than
twenty-four hours he should have returned to them. While he was speaking
in this strain, Mrs. Aubrey suddenly quitted the room, and after a
moment's absence returned, her pallid, agitated countenance overspread
with a wild smile of delight, as she exclaimed breathlessly--"There,
love! Dearest Charles! He says there is no harm in the world in my going
with you in the coach--and, indeed, we may have rooms to ourselves!"
"My sweet Agnes"----
"I will--I _will_ go with you, Charles! Nothing shall prevent me--even
if I leave you at the door of the place you are going to!" It was in
vain for Mr. Aubrey to protest--as he did, both earnestly and
vehemently;--her impassioned importunities were irresistible, and she
rushed breathlessly up-stairs to prepare her dress to accompany him on
his brief but melancholy journey. Within a very few minutes she had
returned, just as the sound of the coach-wheels approaching the door was
heard. Mr. Aubrey and Kate perceived the dangerous excitement under
which she was laboring, and dreaded its effects: yet what could be done?
He could not prolong his stay--and it would be infinitely more dangerous
to leave her behind, now that she had set her heart upon accompanying
him, than to permit her to do so. She carried down little Agnes in her
arms--and had been almost suffocating her and Charles, who walked after
her, with kisses and convulsive embraces. Both the children were crying
bitterly; and as soon as Mrs. Aubrey had reached the parlor door, and
heard the coach-steps letting down, she fell into violent hysterics.
"I'll tell you what, sir," whispered Grab, as he stood close beside Mr.
Aubrey, who was supporting Mrs. Aubrey--"it wouldn't be amiss if I was
to say you should come along with me at once, while this poor lady's
insensible--and then when she 'd have come to herself, and know'd you
was _gone_, and no mistake--why--she'd in course think no more of it
"----
"Oh! for God's sake--for God's sake! Remember your promise!" cried
Aubrey, and in a voice which nearly reached the officer's heart: as it
was, he simply shrugged his shoulders, and awaited the issue with no
little impatience, but in silence. 'T was in the midst of this
heart-rending scene, which ensued during the next half-hour, that Kate
displayed the strength of character which so remarkably distinguished
her; and, completely mastering her own agitated feelings, she
essentially contributed towards Mrs. Aubrey's restoration to a state
which would admit of her at length setting off. The children had been
removed--Mr. Aubrey having bid them an agonizing adieu; for he knew not
what accident or contrivance might occur to prevent his return to
them--and after embracing his weeping sister, he supported Mrs. Aubrey,
Grab closely following them, into the coach. All three having got in,
"Jem," as he was called, shut up the door, jumped up on to the
coach-box, and then they drove away. Poor Mrs. Aubrey, on taking her
seat, drew from before her agitated yet beautiful countenance the long
dark veil which she had drawn down while passing from the house into the
coach, and gazed at Mr. Aubrey with such an expression of mingled
tenderness and agony, as was almost sufficient to have broken even the
stony heart of Grab. She also held her husband's hand convulsively
grasped within her own--as though fearful of their being even yet
violently separated from each other. As they went along, in answer to
Aubrey's anxious inquiries concerning the nature of the scenes which
awaited him, Mr. Grab told him that his--Grab's--lock-up was in
Chancery-Lane, and would be found as comfortable a place as need be. He
informed his prisoner, further, that he might have his choice,--whether
to occupy a private room, with a bedroom opening into it--or go into the
public room, where would be also some dozen other debtors,--and in which
case, of course, Mrs. Aubrey must return home alone. Mr. Aubrey inquired
what would be the expense of the private room, and was horrified on
hearing--two guineas and a half a-day, paid in advance!--exclusive of
board and attendance, which doubtless would be charged for on a
commensurate scale. The prisoner and his wife gazed at each other in
silence, and felt sick at heart.
"The smallest room--at the very top of the house--would suffice for both
a sitting-room and bedroom," said Aubrey--"and we do not care a straw
for furniture"----
"The room I told you of, or the public room, is all I've to offer you,"
replied Grab, somewhat doggedly--"and you needn't cry out before you're
hurt; for it may be your friends will bail you out before the
night--before much harm's done!" His wretched companions continued
silent for the remainder of the journey, till the coach drew up
opposite the door of the house of which they had been speaking. It was
about half-way up Chancery-Lane, on the right-hand side as you entered
from the Strand. 'T was a small, narrow, dingy-looking house, at the
corner of a miserable court. The solitary window, level with the door,
was strongly secured within by thick perpendicular iron bars. The outer
door, at the top of a flight of about a dozen well-worn steps, stood
open, leaving exposed to view an inner door, at about a couple of yards'
distance from the outer one; and on this inner door was a brass plate
bearing the terrifying name--
"G R A B."
The upper part of the door was of glass, and secured on the inside, like
the window, by strong iron bars. Aubrey's soul sank within him as his
eye took in these various points of the dismal building--the very first
which he had ever been _compelled to enter_. The follower, immediately
on the coach drawing up, jumped down, and running up the steps of the
house, knocked at the inner door, and hurrying back, opened the
coach-door, and let down the steps.
"Now, Jarvey--what's the damage?" inquired Grab, before any of them got
out.
"Six shillings, your honor."
"You must tip, sir," quoth Grab to Mr. Aubrey--who thereupon counted out
all the silver he had except one solitary sixpence, and they descended,
followed up the steps of the house closely by Grab. Their hearts failed
them, as they heard the sound of heavy jingling keys from within opening
the door; and the next moment they stood within a short, narrow, and
dark passage--the sallow ill-looking man who had opened the door
instantly closing, barring, and locking it upon them.
"This here's the public room," quoth Grab, with the confident air of a
man who feels in his own house; and, half opening a door on his
left--they caught a glimpse of a number of men--some smoking; others
sitting with their feet on the table, reading the newspapers; others
playing at cards; and almost all of them drinking, and either laughing,
talking, or singing.
"Now, sir--does this _here_ suit your fancy?" inquired Grab, rather
sharply. Mr. Aubrey felt his wife leaning heavily on his arm. "Mercy! I
shall faint! I feel choked!"--she whispered.
"Show us instantly upstairs, to your private room--cost what it may,"
said Mr. Aubrey, hastily.
"It's only fair to tell you, sir, you pay in advance--and for the whole
day, though you should be out again in a quarter of an hour's time--it's
the rule of the house."
"Show us upstairs, sir, without delay," said Mr. Aubrey, peremptorily.
"Jemmy--show 'em up!" exclaimed Grab, briskly--on which Jem went
forward, followed by Mr. Aubrey, almost entirely supporting Mrs.
Aubrey--who appeared very faint--Grab bringing up the rear--up the
narrow and angular staircase. This led them into a tolerably
well-furnished room; and Mrs. Aubrey, on entering it, sank exhausted on
the sofa. Here, again, the two windows were strongly secured with iron
bars, which gave a peculiarly miserable appearance to the room. The
unhappy couple gazed around them for a moment, in silence.
"Beg your pardon, sir," said Grab, entering the room, "but must trouble
you for _two, twelve, six_; always pay in advance, as I told you
a-coming."
Aubrey involuntarily shuddering, took out his pocket-book--Mrs. Aubrey
bursting into tears--and handed to Grab the only money he had--his
five-pound note, requesting change.
"The lady would, perhaps, like a glass of negus?" inquired Grab.
"Certainly--bring up immediately a glass of cold sherry and water,"
replied Aubrey.
"That will be just _two, five, six_ to bring back--shall have it
directly, sir--change and all. Here's your bedroom, sir," he
added--opening a small door opposite the window--and then withdrew by
that through which they had entered. The moment that they were left
alone, Aubrey folded his arms tenderly around his wife, and kissed her
cold pale cheek; and then helped her to remove her bonnet, which, with
its heavy black veil, evidently oppressed her. Her rich dark hair fell
disordered over her tippet; and with her flushed cheek and restless eye,
would have given the beholder a vivid picture of beauty and virtue in
distress.
"Do promise me, Charles!" said she, looking fondly at him, "that I may
go with you wherever they will allow you to take me!"
"I trust, Agnes, that I shall be released before long. This is really a
comfortable room, considering!" he added, evading her question.
"If only Kate and the children were here," she replied tremulously.
"Poor things! I wonder what they are doing just now--Kate will break her
heart, poor girl, if we don't return soon!"
"Never fear, Agnes. But let us look what kind of a bedroom they have
given us. I hope we shall have no occasion, however, to occupy it. Come,
let us see!"
'T was very small and close, to be sure, and had but one narrow window,
secured, like all the others, by strong iron bars. It overlooked a
little flagged yard, about fourteen feet square, surrounded on all sides
by high walls, portions of adjoining houses. It was here that the
prisoners "_took the air_," and their escape was effectually prevented
by close and strong bars of iron passing from side to side, at about ten
feet distance from the ground. They looked down, and beheld two or three
men sitting and standing beneath, who looked more like animals caged in
a menagerie, than human beings. 'T was to Aubrey a sickening sight; and
turning from the window, they both re-entered the front room, as Grab
returned with the sherry and water, and the change, which he told down
on the table. He then asked what they would like to have for
dinner--cutlets, steaks, or chops--as he wished to know before Mrs. Grab
went out "to order the house dinner." They seemed, however, to loathe
the idea of eating, not a little to the annoyance of their truly
hospitable host; Aubrey earnestly begging him to send off a message
instantly, with his card, to Mr. Runnington.
"A couple of shillings for the man, sir," said Grab; and, having
received it, withdrew, leaving Mr. and Mrs. Aubrey to themselves for
nearly an hour and a half; at the end of which period, their hearts
leaped for joy to see Mr. Runnington enter the room, with a countenance
full of concern and sympathy.
"Well, but you shall not be much longer in this hateful hole, at any
rate," said he, after some half-hour's anxious conversation with them;
and ringing the bell, directed the man to send Grab up-stairs, and to
fetch pen, ink, and paper. In a few minutes Grab appeared. "You've no
objection, I suppose, Grab, to discharge Mr. Aubrey on my undertaking?"
"In course not, sir," replied Grab, readily; but he was not a little
disappointed at so abrupt a close to his exactions. Mr. Runnington sat
down and began to write. "You had better send off to the office, and see
if there's anything else there," he added, (meaning that Grab should
search, as he was bound to do, for any other writs against Mr. Aubrey
which might be lodged with the sheriff, before discharging his prisoner
out of custody.)
"You don't apprehend anything _there_, do you?" inquired Mr. Runnington,
rather seriously, without taking his eye from the paper on which he was
writing.
"Heaven only knows! But I _think_ not," replied Aubrey.
The following was the undertaking given by Mr. Runnington, and which
operated as an instant release of his oppressed and truly persecuted
client:--
"Aubrey _ats_. Quirk and others.
"We hereby undertake to procure the execution of a good
and sufficient bail-bond herein, for the above-named defendant,
in due time.
"RUNNINGTON & CO.,
Defendant's Attorneys.
"To MR. GRAB,
Officer of the Sheriff of Middlesex."
With this document lying before them, and awaiting the messenger's
return from the sheriff's office, Mr. Runnington and Mr. Aubrey
conversed together anxiously on the subject of Messrs. Quirk, Gammon,
and Snap's bill. Mr. Aubrey was sufficiently acquainted with the general
course of practice to be aware, that beyond requiring him to put in bail
to the action, (special bail, as it was called,) no effectual step could
be taken against him for several months to come; _i.e._ till Michaelmas
term in the ensuing _November_,[7] however eager and active the
plaintiffs might be: so that he had an interval of at least four months,
in which, as the phrase is, "to turn himself about," and endeavor to
discover some mode of extricating himself from his present serious
dilemma. After reminding Mr. Aubrey that neither a peer of the realm,
nor a member of Parliament, nor an attorney,[8] could become bail for
him, Mr. Runnington requested the names of two or three confidential
friends to whom he might apply to become security for Mr. Aubrey; and as
he should be at any time able to exonerate them from liability, by
surrendering his person to his creditors, he felt no hesitation in
applying to them to perform for him this act of kindness. "By the way,"
said Mr. Runnington, in the course of their conversation, and with
apparent carelessness, "could I say a word or two to you on a little
matter of business? And will Mrs. Aubrey excuse us for a moment?"
turning towards her. She bowed, and they withdrew for a moment into the
adjoining bedroom.
"Put this into your pocket," said Mr. Runnington, taking out the day's
newspaper; "and when you have an opportunity, read the account of what
took place yesterday in the Court of King's Bench. It startled _me_ not
a little, I can tell you; and the reason of my not having been at the
office when your messenger arrived was, that I had not returned from
Vivian Street, whither, and to the Temple, I had gone in search of you.
For Heaven's sake, don't alarm Mrs. Aubrey, or Miss Aubrey; but, if
anything occurs to you, do not lose one moment in putting yourself into
communication with us. If possible, I will call at Vivian Street this
evening." With this they returned to the sitting-room, nothing in their
appearance calculated to alarm Mrs. Aubrey, or even attract her
attention.
Shortly afterwards Grab entered the room.
"All right, sir!" said he to Mr. Runnington; and added, turning to Mr.
Aubrey, "you're no longer in my custody, sir!"
"Oh, Charles! thank God!--Let us not stay another moment!" exclaimed
Mrs. Aubrey, joyously starting up, and putting on her bonnet. "Oh, let
us get once more into the open street!--the sweet fresh air!--Kate will
go wild with joy to see us again--Oh, dear Mr. Runnington! how can we
sufficiently thank you?" she added, turning towards him
enthusiastically. Within a few minutes' time they had quitted that
dismal scene; and were again apparently free. On first stepping into the
bright cheering sunlight, and bustling noisy street, it had a wondrous
sort of freshness and novelty--to them. _Now_ they were free to go
whithersoever they chose!--Oh, blessed LIBERTY!--let an Englishman lose
thee for but an hour, to become aware of thy value!--It seemed to Mr.
and Mrs. Aubrey, as if ten times the real interval had elapsed between
their entering and quitting the scene of his incarceration. With what
exhilarated spirits they hastened homeward! as if a millstone were no
longer suspended from their necks. But Mr. Aubrey suddenly bethought
himself of the newspaper given him by Mr. Runnington; and it cost him,
indeed, a great effort to assume a cheerfulness so foreign to his
feelings.
While, however, they are thus walking homeward, intending, in the event
of Mrs. Aubrey becoming fatigued, to take a coach, let me, in order to
enable the reader to appreciate the paragraph to which Mr. Runnington
had called Aubrey's attention, turn for a while from this virtuous and
afflicted couple, to trace the leading movements of that master-spirit
of evil, Mr. Gammon; for which purpose, it will be necessary to take up
our history from the evening of the day in which Mr. Aubrey had called
at Mr. Gammon's chambers, to forbid him visiting any longer at Vivian
Street. By that time, Mr. Gammon had thoroughly thought _out_ his plan
of operations. What had passed between him and Miss Aubrey and her
brother, had satisfied him that the time for calling into action all his
forces had arrived; and the exact end he proposed to himself was, to
plunge Mr. Aubrey at once into apparently inextricable and hopeless
difficulty--into total ruin--so as to render them all more accessible to
Mr. Gammon's advances, and force Miss Aubrey into entertaining his
addresses, as the sole means of effecting her brother's liberation. For
this purpose, it would be necessary to make him debtor to so large an
amount as would preclude the interference of even the most liberally
disposed of his friends. Those might very probably go as far as fifteen
hundred pounds on his behalf, who could not be brought to think of
twelve thousand pounds--it being borne in mind, that one alone of Mr.
Aubrey's friends, Lord De la Zouch, was already liable, on his behalf,
to some eleven thousand pounds, which would become payable on the
ensuing 24th of January. But the mask was not yet to be thrown off;
Gammon resolved to appear the firm friend of Mr. Aubrey to the last;
deprecating vehemently, and striving to avert from him, the very
proceedings which he was all the while, with secret skill and vigor,
urging on against him. He determined, therefore, to recall Titmouse's
attention to the two promissory notes for £5,000 each; to pretend
reluctance to allow them to be put in suit, and yet give him clearly to
understand that _he_ might do so, without fear of giving mortal offence
to Mr. Gammon.
At the moment of the reader's being reintroduced to Mr. Gammon, that
gentleman was sitting, about nine o'clock in the evening, at his
chambers, beside a table, on which were placed a lamp, a number of
papers, and coffee. In one hand he held the rough draft of his
rent-charge, which had that day been sent to him by Mr. Frankpledge, and
he was occasionally making pencil memoranda on the margin as he went
along. He would sometimes pause in his task, as if his thoughts wandered
to other subjects; his countenance looked harassed, his ample brow
seemed laden with anxiety. Certainly, great as was his energy, clear as
was his head, and accustomed as he was to the despatch of business of
even the most difficult and varied description, all his powers were at
that moment taxed to their very uttermost stretch, as a hasty glance
round the room would have satisfied the reader. On the sofa lay several
piles of loose papers. First, there were the draft briefs--and
voluminous they were--which he was now preparing, or rather settling, in
the following actions for bribery penalties, coming on for trial at the
ensuing Yorkshire assizes:--
"WIGLEY V. GAMMON, (_S. J._)"[9]
"_Same_ v. MUDFLINT, (_S. J._)"
"_Same_ v. BLOODSUCK, (_S. J._)"
"_Same_ v. WOODLOUSE, (_S. J._)"
All these serious actions were being pushed forward with great vigor, at
the instance of Lord De la Zouch, who had, moreover, directed them all
to be made special jury causes.
Secondly, a monstrous mass of papers, also lying on the sofa, contained
the heterogeneous elements, out of which it required a head as clear as
Gammon's to draw up a brief for the defence in a very complicated case
of _conspiracy_--"The KING V. MIDDLETON SNAKE, and OTHERS,"--and which
was coming on for trial at the ensuing King's Bench sittings for London;
it having been removed, on account of its great difficulty and
importance, by _certiorari_[10] from the Old Bailey. It ought to have
been by this time prepared; yet Mr. Gammon had scarcely even looked at
the papers, though the credit of their office was at stake, as the case
had attracted a large share of public attention.
Thirdly, there were scattered about threatening masses of documents
connected with the various joint-stock companies in which Mr. Gammon was
concerned, either openly or secretly--either professionally or as a
shareholder; the management of many of them requiring infinite
vigilance and tact. These matters, however, and many others which had
accumulated, till the bare thoughts of them oppressed and distracted
him, he had altogether neglected, absorbed as he was by the pursuit of
Miss Aubrey, and the consummation of his schemes and purposes respecting
Titmouse and the Yatton property. As if all this had not been sufficient
occupation for him, there was yet another of a totally different
description. He was writing a series of very popular and powerful
attacks in the _Sunday Flash_, upon a certain Tory ex-Minister--in fact,
endeavors to write him down--and this with the privity, and even
occasional assistance, of one whom Gammon intended, in due time, to make
great use of, as soon as his Lordship should have sufficiently committed
himself thus, and otherwise; viz. my Lord Blossom and Box. Now, Gammon
had for three weeks running disappointed the numerous readers of the
_Sunday Flash_, during which period, also, he had been almost baited to
death upon the subject by old Quirk, the chief proprietor of the paper;
and that very evening, the odious VIPER, its editor, had been there, as
it were, writhing and hissing about him till he had given a positive
pledge to prepare an article against the ensuing Saturday. All these
things put together, were enough for one strong-headed man to bear up
against, and Gammon felt very nearly overwhelmed; and the reader will
think it very excusable in Mr. Gammon, that he felt such difficulty in
commanding his thoughts even to the interesting task of settling the
draft of his own rent-charge on the Yatton property. He was not quite
satisfied with the way in which Frankpledge had tinkered up the
"_consideration_" shadowed forth in Gammon's instructions, and was just
sketching off one compounded of a "certain sum of five thousand pounds
of good and lawful money of Great Britain, by the aforesaid Oily
Gammon, at or before the execution of these presents, paid to the said
Tittlebat Titmouse, and the receipt whereof the said Titmouse thereby
acknowledged, and from the same and every part thereof, released and
discharged the said Oily Gammon, his heirs, executors, administrators
and assigns" (!!!) and also "of the great skill, and exertion, and
sacrifices of the said Oily Gammon, for and on behalf of the said
Tittlebat Titmouse, in and in respect of the recovery of the Yatton
property," &c. &c.
I say he had just finished off this little matter, and was varying one
or two of the expressions, when a sharp knock at his door announced the
arrival of the intelligent grantor of the aforesaid annuity, Mr.
Titmouse himself, whose stylish cab was at that moment standing opposite
to the entrance to Thavies' Inn, in Holborn, having brought him direct
from the House of Commons, whither, however, he was to return by eleven
o'clock, till which time he had paired off, in order to enable him to
come and consult Mr. Gammon on one or two important matters. Poor
Titmouse had conceived, since his memorable interview with Gammon,
formerly related, a violent hatred of Mr. Gammon; but which was almost
absorbed in his dread of that gentleman, who had such unlimited power
over him. The sudden and serious diminution of his income by Gammon's
rent-charge, almost turned his head upside-down, and occasioned a pother
in his little bosom, which was all the greater for his being unable to
admit any sympathizing friend into his confidence. He had become fidgety
and irritable to a degree; his countenance and demeanor troubled and
depressed; from all which, the more intimate among his brother senators
naturally inferred that he had lost large sums at play, or was harassed
by his election expenses; or had quarrelled with his mistress, or been
found out by his wife; or been kicked, and dared not call out the
aggressor; or that some other such accident as frequently happens to
young gentlemen of fashion, had befallen him. Now, to be candid with the
reader, Titmouse certainly _was_ getting into rather deep water.
Formidable creditors were beginning to look somewhat sternly after him
from various quarters; his upholsterer was becoming troublesome; his
wine-merchant insisted on at least four hundred pounds on account;
Messrs. Jimcrack and Nicknack were surprised at having received no
payment for sundry expensive articles of jewelry and _vertu_. His
coach-maker, his tailor, a host of household creditors, were getting
very restless; he had a running account of some £600 or £800 at the
_Gliddington_, in respect of his Parliamentary and other dinners at that
fashionable establishment; his yacht was a dreadful drain upon him; he
had been unfortunate in his sporting speculations; in short, if Gammon
had his anxieties, so had Titmouse his. He felt himself getting terribly
out at elbows--so much so, that he could no longer give that calm and
undivided attention to his Parliamentary duties, which his enlightened
constituents had a right to expect at his hands: and in short, the sole
occasion of his calling on Gammon, was to see if that gentleman could
devise some mode of once more replenishing his empty coffers--a further
mortgage on the Yatton property being the exact mode of doing so, which
he was about to propose to Gammon. It required some tact, however, as he
felt, to broach that subject in the present position of affairs; so he
avowed that he had called to see if _Mr. Gammon's deeds were ready for
signing_--as he, Titmouse, was anxious to get it off his mind. Time was
very precious with Mr. Gammon; he therefore lost not a moment in
plucking aside the thin disguise of Titmouse, and discovering the real
object of his visit. Mr. Gammon looked very serious indeed, on hearing
the account of Titmouse's prodigal expenditure, and remonstrated with
him earnestly, and even authoritatively; but it instantly occurred to
him--could there possibly be a better opportunity for broaching the
subject of the two promissory notes?
"My dear Titmouse," said he, with great kindness of manner,
"notwithstanding all I have felt it my duty to say, I do sincerely wish
it were in my power to serve you in this emergency. But we really must
spare old Yatton for a little--you've sadly burdened her already;--we
shall be killing the goose to get at the golden egg, if we don't mind
what we're about!"
"----! But what the devil's to be _done_, Mr. Gammon? For, 'pon my soul,
I'm most _particular_ hard up, and _something_ must be done."
"We must bethink ourselves of our other resources, my dear
Titmouse!--let us see"--he paused, with his hand resting on his forehead
for a few moments--"Oh! by the way--certainly," he added suddenly--"but
no! it's a thousand pities; but my word is pledged."
"Eh? what? does anything strike you, Gammon?--'Pon my life, what is it?"
inquired Titmouse, pricking up his ears.
"Why, yes, certainly," replied Gammon, musingly--adding, as if he did
not intend Titmouse to hear him, "to be sure, it would put ten
thousand--nay, with the interest, nearly eleven"----
"The devil it would! _What_ would? My stars, Mr. Gammon!" exclaimed
Titmouse, eagerly--"Do let us know what it is!"
"Why, I was certainly thinking, at the moment," replied Gammon, with a
sigh, "of that poor devil Aubrey's two notes for £5,000 a-piece and
interest."
Titmouse's face suddenly fell. "Oh Lord! Is that all? Hang the
fellow--he's a beggar--squeezed dry--nothing more to be got out of him!"
he exclaimed with mingled chagrin and contempt. "A'n't worth powder and
shot! Blood from a stone!--won't have anything worth taking this ten
years to come!"
"Poor fellow!" quoth Gammon.
"'Pon my soul, Gammon, it's _me_ you may say that of, I rather think!"
"Why," said Gammon, glancing rather keenly at Titmouse, "my first and
greatest duty on earth, my dear Titmouse, is to _you_--to look after, to
secure your interests; and candor compels me to say, that, whatever may
be my feelings towards that unfortunate person, still, I think, you've
only to squeeze _him_ pretty hard, and blood would come from _other_
people. Eh! you understand?"
"By Jove!--Indeed!--No! But would it really? How?--Squeeze away, then,
and be----! Please bring an action against the fellow, the first thing
in the morning! Put him in jail, and he'll get the money, I'll warrant
him! Dem the fellow! why don't he pay his debts? It's devilish hard on
_me_, a'n't it? Didn't I forgive him forty thousand pounds? By the way,
I'd forgot there's the other ten thousand that Lord De la Zouch is
surety for--when do we touch that?"
"Oh! we've taken a bond for _that_, which will not fall due before--let
me see--the 24th of next January."
"'Pon my soul, what a cursed bore! But can't one do anything with it
before then?"
"What! Sue on it before it's due?"
"No--egad! I mean, raise the wind on it. Surely Lord De la Zouch's name
is"----
"Whew!" thought Gammon, "that stroke certainly had never occurred to
me!--Ay, he's right, the little fool! Old Fang will advance £8,000 or
£9,000, or more even--I'll see to it, by Jove!" Then he said aloud--"It
may be possible, certainly, my dear Titmouse; but I see very great
obstacles in the way."
"Some cussed law point--eh?"
"Yes--but I assure you I will turn my best attention to it," he added;
and proceeded to bring back Titmouse to the point at which he had
started off. "And speaking of poor Aubrey--it's certainly true that you
have been, I may say, extravagantly liberal to him--forbearing beyond
example; and I can't think that any one can be expected, when he knows a
wave of his hand will put some eleven thousand pounds into his pocket,
to stand by idle forever! It is not in human nature"----
"No; 'pon my life it isn't," quoth Titmouse, with a puzzled air, quite
unable to make out whether Gammon intended to favor or discourage the
notion of immediately proceeding against Aubrey; which Gammon observing,
he continued--"At all events I should say, that if you consider that
your own necessities"--
"Demme! I should think so!" interposed Titmouse.
"Required it--and, as you very properly observed, _you_ are the best
judge; certainly"----he paused; surely--thought he--Titmouse _now_ saw
his drift!
"Yes--'pon my soul!" exclaimed Titmouse.
"Why, in that case, it is only due to myself to say _I_ can be no party
to it: I have had to bear enough already that was due to others; and
since I have solemnly pledged my word of honor to Mr."----
"What the devil _do_ you mean, Gammon? Cuss me, if I can make you out a
bit!" interrupted Titmouse, snappishly.
"You misunderstand me, my dear Titmouse! Once for all, I say, if you
want the money, you must immediately sue on these notes; and my opinion
is, you'll succeed--only, I _must not appear in it_, you know! But if
you do choose to employ some other solicitor--there's that Mr. Spitfire,
for instance--to _compel_ me to give up the notes."
"Oh Lord! Honor! No, no!--So bless me Heaven! I didn't mean anything of
the kind," cried Titmouse, alarmedly, fearful of offending Gammon, who
could scarcely conceal his impatience and disgust at the stupidity of
Titmouse.
"I cannot make you understand me, Titmouse! What I mean is, it
is my duty not to let my feelings interfere with your interests.
I now, therefore, recommend you--since you have suggested the
thing--immediately to put yourself into the hands--as far as this little
business is concerned--of some other solicitor, say Mr. Spitfire, in
Scorpion Court; and whatever he advises you to do--_do_ without
hesitation. You will probably tell him that, if he demands the two notes
on your behalf, I may, for form's sake, resist: but I know I shall be
ordered to give them up! Well--I can't help it!"
"Honor now, Gammon! May I do as I like?" inquired Titmouse, stupidly.
"Honor!"
"And you won't be angry? Not a bit! eh?"
"On my sacred word of honor!" replied Gammon, solemnly, placing his hand
on his breast.
"Then fire away, Flannagan!" cried Titmouse, joyfully snapping his
fingers. "By Jove, here goes! Here's for a jolly squeeze! Aha! Ten
thousand drops of blood!--by Jove, he'll bleed to death! But, by the
way, what will Mr. Quirk say?"
"Curse Mr. Quirk!" cried Gammon, impatiently; "you know the course you
are to pursue--you are your own master, surely? What has Mr. Quirk to do
with you, when I allow you to act in this way?"
"To be sure! Well! here's a go! Wasn't it a lucky thought of mine to
come here to-night? But don't you forget the other ten thousand--the two
make twenty thousand, by Jove! I'm set up again--aha! And as soon as
ever the House is up, if I don't cut away in my span-new yacht, with a
lot of jolly chaps, to the East Indies, or some _other_ place that'll
take us a good six weeks, or so, to go and come back in. Hollo! Is that
eleven o'clock striking?" he inquired with a start, taking out his
watch; "It is, by Jove! and my pair's up; they'll be dividing--I'm off!
Good-night."
"You remember where Mr. Spitfire lives'!" said Gammon, anxiously. "In
Scorpion Court, Strand. I must say he's one of the most respectable men
in the profession; and _so_ quick!"
"Ah--I remember! I'll be with him the moment after breakfast!" replied
Titmouse: Gammon shook him by the hand--feeling, when he had shut both
his doors, as if he had been playing with an ape. "Oh, thou indefinable
and undiscoverable principle regulating human affairs!" thought he,
falling into a revery, a bitter scowl settling on his strongly-marked
features; "of what nature soever thou art, and if any such there really
be, what conceivable purpose canst thou have had in view in placing this
execrable idiot and ME, in our relative positions?" He pursued this line
of reflection for some time, till he had got into a far more melancholy
and misanthropical humor than he had ever before fallen into--till,
recollecting himself, and with a deep sigh, he rang for a fresh supply
of coffee from his drowsy laundress; and then exerted himself vigorously
till nearly five o'clock in the morning, at which hour he sank,
exhausted, into bed.
During the ensuing day, sure enough, he received a communication signed
"_Simeon Spitfire_," and dated from "_Scorpion Court_," informing him
that its respectable writer "was instructed to apply to him, on the part
of Mr. Titmouse, for the immediate delivery up of two promissory notes
for £5,000 each, given by one Charles Aubrey to the aforesaid
Titmouse," and "begging Mr. Gammon's immediate attention thereto."
Gammon instantly copied out and sent an answer which he had carefully
prepared beforehand--taking very high ground indeed, but slipping in,
with a careful inadvertence, an encouraging admission of the strict
_legal_ right of Mr. Spitfire's client. 'T was, in short, a charming
letter--showing its writer to be one of the most fastidiously
high-minded men living; but producing not the least favorable effect
upon the mind of Mr. Spitfire, who instantly forwarded a formal and
peremptory demand of the two documents in question. Gammon wrote a
second letter, alluding to an unguarded (!) admission made in his former
communication, which he most devoutly hoped would not be used against
him; and in terms of touching and energetic eloquence, reasserted that,
though the letter of the law might be against him, he conceived that, in
point of honor, and indeed of justice, he was warranted in adhering to
the solemn promise which he had made to a gentleman for whom he
entertained the most profound respect; and, in short, he flatly refused
to give up the instruments demanded! Irrepressible was the exultation of
Mr. Spitfire, on finding himself getting so much the better of so astute
a person as Mr. Gammon! and he took an opportunity of showing to every
one who came to his little office, how Mr. Gammon had laid himself open
to the superior tactics of him--the aforesaid Mr. Spitfire!--He then,
with profound astuteness, wrote a fine flourishing letter to wind up the
correspondence, and stick into an affidavit; in the course of which he
apprised Mr. Gammon that the Court of King's Bench would be immediately
applied to, for a rule calling upon him, forthwith, to deliver up the
documents in question. On this, Mr. Gammon drew up an imposing and
admirable affidavit, setting forth all the correspondence; and, as soon
as he had been served with the rule _nisi_, he instructed Sir Charles
Wolstenholme, (the late Attorney-General,) Mr. Sterling, and Mr.
Crystal, to "_show cause_" against it; knowing, of course, quite as well
as did counsel, with whom he did not think it necessary to hold a
consultation, (for fear they should press him to give up the promissory
notes without showing cause,) that there was no earthly chance of
successfully resisting the rule.--When he took his seat under Sir
Charles, just before that learned person rose to show cause, he touched
Mr. Gammon on the shoulder, and very warmly complimented him on the
highly honorable and friendly feeling which he had manifested towards
the unfortunate Mr. Aubrey; but "feared that the case, as far as the
legal merits went, was too plain for argument;--but he had looked with
unusual care over the affidavits on which the rule had been obtained,
and at the _form_ of the rule itself--and rejoiced to say he felt
confident that he should be able to discharge it with costs:"--at which
Mr. Gammon turned suddenly pale--with joyous surprise, as Sir Charles
imagined--he not knowing Gammon so well as we do!--The reader is now in
a position to appreciate the following report of what took place--and
(_inter nos_) which said report had been drawn up for the _Morning
Growl_, by Mr. Gammon himself.
COURT OF KING'S BENCH. Yesterday.
(_Sittings in Banco._)
_Ex parte_ TITMOUSE.
"This was a rule, obtained by Mr. SUBTLE on a previous day of the
term, calling upon Mr. Gammon, of the firm of Quirk, Gammon, and
Snap, of Saffron Hill, Hatton Garden, to show cause why he should
not forthwith deliver up to Mr. Titmouse, M. P. for Yatton, two
promissory notes, each for the payment, on demand to that
gentleman, of £5,000, with interest, by Charles Aubrey. Sir CHARLES
WOLSTENHOLME, Mr. STERLING, and Mr. CRYSTAL, now appeared to show
cause--and took a preliminary objection to the form of the rule.
After a very long discussion, the Court decided that the rule might
be moulded so as to meet the facts of the case, and directed cause
to be shown on the merits.
"From the affidavits filed in answer to the rule, it appeared that,
shortly after the termination of the late important case of _Doe
dem. Titmouse_ v. _Jolter_, (in which, it will be recollected, the
lessor of the plaintiff succeeded in establishing his right to very
large estates in Yorkshire,) Mr. Gammon had been very active in
endeavoring to effect an amicable arrangement concerning the mesne
profits; and, after great exertions, had persuaded his client Mr.
Titmouse to enter into an arrangement highly advantageous to Mr.
Aubrey--who was to be released, (as we understood,) from no less a
sum than Sixty Thousand Pounds, due in respect of the mesne
profits, on giving the two promissory notes which were the subject
of the present application. It further appeared, that on obtaining
Mr. Aubrey's signature to these promissory notes, Mr. Gammon had
explicitly and repeatedly assured him that he need be under no
apprehension of being called on for payment for several years; but
that the notes should remain in the hands of Mr. Gammon, and should
not be put in suit till after a twelvemonth's notice should have
been given to Mr. Aubrey. It did not distinctly appear whether Mr.
Titmouse was ever made aware of this understanding between Mr.
Gammon and Mr. Aubrey--at all events, nothing had ever passed in
writing upon the subject. Mr. Gammon, on the contrary, frankly
admitted it to be _possible_ that Mr. Titmouse might have been
under the impression, while surrendering so great a claim against
Mr. Aubrey, that the sum secured by the two promissory notes was to
have been before this time liquidated. There was no affidavit made
on the subject by Mr. Aubrey. It also appeared that Mr. Titmouse
had not hitherto received any portion of the large amount, £20,000,
yet due in respect of the mesne profits. The affidavits read by
the Attorny-General set forth a correspondence which had taken
place between Mr. Titmouse's solicitor and Mr. Gammon, in which the
latter insisted, in the most strenuous terms, upon the _honorable_
engagement under which he conceived himself to be to Mr. Aubrey,
and solemnly declared his belief that Mr. Aubrey was under a
similar impression; at the same time, there were expressions in Mr.
Gammon's letters, from which it was plain that he was aware of the
right, in point of strict law, of Mr. Titmouse, to the documents in
question. It also appeared from the affidavits of Mr. Titmouse, and
was not denied by those of Mr. Gammon, that the former had
repeatedly urged the latter to deliver up the notes, or commence
proceedings against Mr. Aubrey--but that Mr. Gammon had, on all
such occasions previous to the present one, succeeded in dissuading
him from his purpose. It had, moreover, been alleged on behalf of
Mr. Titmouse, that Mr. Gammon was acting in collusion with Mr.
Aubrey to defeat the just claim of Mr. Titmouse; but this Sir
Charles Wolstenholme indignantly disclaimed on the part of Mr.
Gammon, whose conduct throughout showed the nicest sense of honor,
and the utmost possible anxiety to interfere between an unfortunate
gentleman and utter ruin. But,
"The COURT, without calling on Mr. SUBTLE, (with whom were Mr.
GOOSE and Mr. MUD,) said the rule must clearly be made absolute.
The legal right of Mr. Titmouse to the notes was admitted by Mr.
Gammon's own affidavit; and there was no pretence for holding that,
as against Mr. Titmouse, Mr. Gammon, who was only _one_ of that
gentleman's attorneys, had any right to withhold the documents in
question. No authority from Mr. Titmouse to Mr. Gammon to make the
alleged representations to Mr. Aubrey, had been shown, and
consequently that gentleman could in no way be bound by them. He
was not even shown to have been aware of them. It was not pretended
that Mr. Gammon, or any of his partners, had any lien on the notes,
which must be therefore given up to Mr. Titmouse. With respect to
the imputation against Mr. Gammon, of being in collusion with Mr.
Aubrey, Lord Widdrington added, that from what his Lordship himself
knew of Mr. Aubrey, it was impossible for a moment to imagine him
capable of anything inconsistent with the strictest honor; and that
Mr. Gammon's conduct showed that, though mistaken as to the extent
of his power over the notes intrusted to him, he had acted from the
purest motives, and evinced an honorable anxiety to serve the
interests of one whom he believed to be unfortunate.--The rule was
then made absolute; but on Mr. Subtle applying for the costs, the
remainder of the day was occupied in an elaborate discussion upon
the question--which, however, was eventually referred to the
Master."
Nor was this all. The intelligent editor of the _Morning Growl_,
happening to cast his eye over the above, while lying in proofs, made it
the subject of an eloquent leading article, in which were contained many
just and striking reflections on the continual inconsistency between law
(as administered in England) and justice--of which the present--he
said--was a glaring instance. It was truly lamentable--it seemed--to
find truth and honor, generosity and justice, all sacrificed to the
wretched technicalities, the petty quirks and quibbles, of the
law--which required a radical reform. Indeed, the whole system of our
jurisprudence called for the most searching revision, which, he hoped,
would ere long take place. Then followed some powerful animadversions
upon the conduct of Lord Widdrington, in giving effect to such
pettifogging subterfuges as had that day served plainly to defeat the
ends of justice; and the article concluded by calling upon us Lordship
to resign his seat on the bench! and make way for a more liberal and
enlightened successor, who would decide every case that came before him,
according to the dictates of natural equity and common sense, without
being trammelled by such considerations as at present fettered and
impeded the due administration of justice. It did so happen, _inter
nos_, that this same incompetent Lord Widdrington had called down upon
himself and his court the foregoing philippic, by having imposed a smart
fine upon the publisher of the _Morning Growl_, and super-added a
twelvemonth's imprisonment, for an execrable libel upon an amiable and
dignified ecclesiastic; and this, too, his Lordship had done, after
overruling an almost interminable series of frivolous and vexatious
technical objections to the proceedings, urged by the defendant's
counsel, in conformity with the instructions which he had received, to
take every possible advantage.