JUSTICE IS TO BE DONE.
It must not be thought that the Countess was unmoved when she
received Daniel Thwaite's letter from Keswick enclosing the copy
of his father's will. She was all alone, and she sat long in her
solitude, thinking of the friend who was gone and who had been always
true to her. She herself would have done for old Thomas Thwaite any
service which a woman could render to a man, so strongly did she feel
all that the man had done for her. As she had once said, no menial
office performed by her on behalf of the old tailor would have been
degrading to her. She had eaten his bread, and she never for a moment
forgot the obligation. The slow tears stood in her eyes as she
thought of the long long hours which she had passed in his company,
while, almost desponding herself, she had received courage from his
persistency. And her feeling for the son would have been the same,
had not the future position of her daughter and the standing of
the house of Lovel been at stake. It was not in her nature to be
ungrateful; but neither was it in her nature to postpone the whole
object of her existence to her gratitude. Even though she should
appear to the world as a monster of ingratitude, she must treat the
surviving Thwaite as her bitterest enemy as long as he maintained
his pretensions to her daughter's hand. She could have no friendly
communication with him. She herself would hold no communication
with him at all, if she might possibly avoid it, lest she should
be drawn into some renewed relation of friendship with him. He was
her enemy,--her enemy in such fierce degree that she was always
plotting the means of ridding herself altogether of his presence
and influence. To her thinking the man had turned upon her most
treacherously, and was using, for his own purposes and his own
aggrandizement, that familiarity with her affairs which he had
acquired by reason of his father's generosity. She believed but
little in his love; but whether he loved the girl or merely sought
her money, was all one to her. Her whole life had been passed in an
effort to prove her daughter to be a lady of rank, and she would
rather sacrifice her life in the basest manner than live to see all
her efforts annulled by a low marriage. Love, indeed, and romance!
What was the love of one individual, what was the romance of a
childish girl, to the honour and well-being of an ancient and noble
family? It was her ambition to see her girl become the Countess
Lovel, and no feeling of gratitude should stand in her way. She would
rather slay that lowborn artisan with her own hand than know that he
had the right to claim her as his mother-in-law. Nevertheless, the
slow tears crept down her cheeks as she thought of former days, and
of the little parlour behind the tailor's shop at Keswick, in which
the two children had been wont to play.
But the money must be paid; or, at least, the debt must be
acknowledged. As soon as she had somewhat recovered herself she
opened the old desk which had for years been the receptacle of all
her papers, and taking out sundry scribbled documents, went to work
at a sum in addition. It cannot be said of her that she was a good
accountant, but she had been so far careful as to have kept entries
of all the monies she had received from Thomas Thwaite. She had once
carried in her head a correct idea of the entire sum she owed him;
but now she set down the items with dates, and made the account fair
on a sheet of note paper. So much money she certainly did owe to
Daniel Thwaite, and so much she would certainly pay if ever the means
of paying it should be hers. Then she went off with her account to
Mr. Goffe.
Mr. Goffe did not think that the matter pressed. The payment of
large sums which have been long due never is pressing in the eyes of
lawyers. Men are always supposed to have a hundred pounds in their
waistcoat pockets; but arrangements have to be made for the settling
of thousands. "You had better let me write him a line and tell him
that it shall be looked to as soon as the question as to the property
is decided," said Mr. Goffe. But this did not suit the views of the
Countess. She spoke out very openly as to all she owed to the father,
and as to her eternal enmity to the son. It behoved her to pay the
debt, if only that she might be able to treat the man altogether as
an enemy. She had understood that, even pending the trial, a portion
of the income would be allowed by the courts for her use and for the
expenses of the trial. It was assented that this money should be
paid. Could steps be taken by which it might be settled at once? Mr.
Goffe, taking the memorandum, said that he would see what could be
done, and then wrote his short note to Daniel Thwaite. When he had
computed the interest which must undoubtedly be paid on the borrowed
money he found that a sum of about £9,000 was due to the tailor.
"Nine thousand pounds!" said one Mr. Goffe to another. "That will be
better to him than marrying the daughter of an earl." Could Daniel
have heard the words he would have taken the lawyer by the throat and
have endeavoured to teach him what love is.
Then the trial came on. Before the day fixed had come round, but only
just before it, Mr. Goffe showed the account to Serjeant Bluestone.
"God bless my soul!" said the Serjeant. "There should be some
vouchers for such an amount as that." Mr. Goffe declared that there
were no vouchers, except for a very trifling part of it; but still
thought that the amount should be allowed. The Countess was quite
willing to make oath, if need be, that the money had been supplied
to her. Then the further consideration of the question was for the
moment postponed, and the trial came on.
On the Tuesday, which had been left a vacant day as regarded the
trial, there was a meeting,--like all other proceedings in this
cause, very irregular in its nature,--at the chambers of the
Solicitor-General, at which Serjeant Bluestone attended with Messrs.
Hardy, Mainsail, Flick, and Goffe; and at this meeting, among other
matters of business, mention was made of the debt due by the Countess
to Daniel Thwaite. Of this debt the Solicitor-General had not as yet
heard,--though he had heard of the devoted friendship of the old
tailor. That support had been afforded to some extent,--that for
a period the shelter of old Thwaite's roof had been lent to the
Countess,--that the man had been generous and trusting, he did
know. He had learned, of course, that thence had sprung that early
familiarity which had enabled the younger Thwaite to make his
engagement with Lady Anna. That something should be paid when the
ladies came by their own he was aware. But the ladies were not his
clients, and into the circumstances he had not inquired. Now he was
astounded and almost scandalized by the amount of the debt.
"Do you mean to say that he advanced £9,000 in hard cash?" said the
Solicitor-General.
"That includes interest at five per cent., Sir William, and also a
small sum for bills paid by Thomas Thwaite on her behalf. She has had
in actual cash about £7,000."
"And where has it gone?"
"A good deal of it through my hands," said Mr. Goffe boldly. "During
two or three years she had no income at all, and during the last
twenty years she has been at law for her rights. He advanced all the
money when that trial for bigamy took place."
"God bless my soul!" said Mr. Serjeant Bluestone.
"Did he leave a will?" asked the Solicitor-General.
"Oh, yes; a will which has been proved, and of which I have a copy.
There was nothing else to leave but this debt, and that is left to
the son."
"It should certainly be paid without delay," said Mr. Hardy. Mr.
Mainsail questioned whether they could get the money. Mr. Goffe
doubted whether it could be had before the whole affair was settled.
Mr. Flick was sure that on due representation the amount would be
advanced at once. The income of the property was already accumulating
in the hands of the court, and there was an anxiety that all just
demands,--demands which might be considered to be justly made on the
family property,--should be paid without delay. "I think there would
hardly be a question," said Mr. Hardy.
"Seven thousand pounds advanced by these two small tradesmen to the
Countess Lovel," said the Solicitor-General, "and that done at a time
when no relation of her own or of her husband would lend her a penny!
I wish I had known that when I went into court yesterday."
"It would hardly have done any good," said the Serjeant.
"It would have enabled one at any rate to give credit where credit is
due. And this son is the man who claims to be affianced to the Lady
Anna?"
"The same man, Sir William," said Mr. Goffe.
"One is almost inclined to think that he deserves her."
"I can't agree with you there at all," said the Serjeant angrily.
"One at any rate is not astonished that the young lady should think
so," continued the Solicitor-General. "Upon my word, I don't know how
we are to expect that she should throw her early lover overboard
after such evidence of devotion."
"The marriage would be too incongruous," said Mr. Hardy.
"Quite horrible," said the Serjeant.
"It distresses one to think of it," said Mr. Goffe.
"It would be much better that she should not be Lady Anna at all, if
she is to do that," said Mr. Mainsail.
"Very much better," said Mr. Flick, shaking his head, and remembering
that he was employed by Lord Lovel and not by the Countess,--a fact
of which it seemed to him that the Solicitor-General altogether
forgot the importance.
"Gentlemen, you have no romance among you," said Sir William. "Have
not generosity and valour always prevailed over wealth and rank with
ladies in story?"
"I do not remember any valorous tailors who have succeeded with
ladies of high degree," said Mr. Hardy.
"Did not the lady of the Strachy marry the yeoman of the wardrobe?"
asked the Solicitor-General.
"I don't know that we care much about romance here," said the
Serjeant. "The marriage would be so abominable, that it is not to be
thought of."
"The tailor should at any rate get his money," said the
Solicitor-General, "and I will undertake to say that if the case be
as represented by Mr. Goffe--"
"It certainly is," said the attorney.
"Then there will be no difficulty in raising the funds for paying it.
If he is not to have his wife, at any rate let him have his money.
I think, Mr. Flick, that intimation should be made to him that Earl
Lovel will join the Countess in immediate application to the court
for means to settle his claim. Circumstanced as we are at present,
there can be no doubt that such application will have the desired
result. It should, of course, be intimated that Serjeant Bluestone
and myself are both of opinion that the money should be allowed for
the purpose."
As the immediate result of this conversation, Daniel Thwaite received
on the following morning letters both from Mr. Goffe and Mr. Flick.
The former intimated to him that a sum of nine thousand odd pounds
was held to be due to him by the Countess, and that immediate steps
would be taken for its payment. That from Mr. Flick, which was much
shorter than the letter from his brother attorney, merely stated that
as a very large sum of money appeared to be due by the Countess Lovel
to the estate of the late Thomas Thwaite, for sums advanced to the
Countess during the last twenty years, the present Earl Lovel had
been advised to join the Countess in application to the courts,
that the amount due might be paid out of the income of the property
left by the late Earl; and that that application would be made
"_immediately_." Mr. Goffe in his letter, went on to make certain
suggestions, and to give much advice. As this very large debt, of
which no proof was extant, was freely admitted by the Countess, and
as steps were being at once taken to ensure payment of the whole
sum named to Daniel Thwaite, as his father's heir, it was hoped
that Daniel Thwaite would at once abandon his preposterous claim to
the hand of Lady Anna Lovel. Then Mr. Goffe put forward in glowing
colours the iniquity of which Daniel Thwaite would be guilty should
he continue his fruitless endeavours to postpone the re-establishment
of a noble family which was thus showing its united benevolence by
paying to him the money which it owed him.