GRACE'S ALTERNATIVE.
Very shortly after that remarkable speech in the servants'
hall, Jonathan found another reason for believing that Mr. Simon
Jennings was equal to any imaginable amount of human wickedness. That
reason will shortly now appear; but we must first of all dig at its
roots somewhat deeper than Jonathan's mental husbandry could manage.
If any trait of character were wanting to complete the desperate infamy
of Jennings--(really I sometimes hope that his grandfather's madness had
a kind of rëawakening in this accursed man)--it was furnished by a new
and shrewd scheme for feeding to the full his lust of gold. The bailiff
had more than once, as we have hinted, found means to increase his evil
hoard, by having secretly gained power over female innocence and honest
reputation: similarly he now devised a deep-laid plot, nothing short of
diabolical. His plot was this: and I choose to hurry over such foul
treason. Let a touch or two hint its outlines: those who will, may paint
up the picture for themselves. Simon looked at Sir John--young, gay,
wealthy; he coveted his purse, and fancied that the surest bait to catch
that fish was fair Grace Acton: if he could entrap her for his master
(to whom he gave full credit for delighting in the plan), he counted
surely on magnificent rewards. How then to entrap her? Thus:--he,
representing himself as prosecutor of Roger, the accused, held for him,
he averred, the keys of life and death: he would set this idea (whether
true or not little mattered, if it served his purpose) before an
affectionate daughter, who should have it in her power to save her
parent, if, and only if, she would yield herself to Jennings: and he
well knew that, granting she gave herself secretly to him first, on such
a bribe as her father's liberation, he would have no difficulty whatever
in selling her second-hand beauty on his own terms to his master. It was
a foul scheme, and shall not be enlarged upon: but (as will appear) thus
slightly to allude to it was needful to our tale, as well as to the
development of character in Mammon's pattern-slave, and to the fullness
of his due retribution in this world. I may add, that if any thing could
make the plan more heinous--if any shade than blackest can be
blacker--this extra turpitude is seen in the true consideration, that
the promise to Grace of her father's safety would be entirely futile--as
Jennings knew full well; the crown was prosecutor, not he: and
circumstantial evidence alone would be sufficient to condemn. Again, it
really is nothing but bare justice to remark, with reference to Sir
John, that the deep-dyed villain reckoned quite without his host; for
however truly the baronet had oft-times been much less a self-denying
Scipio than a wanton Alcibiades, still the fine young fellow would have
flung Simon piecemeal to his hounds, if ever he had breathed so
atrocious a temptation: the maid was pledged, and Vincent knew it.
Now, it so happened that one evening at dusk, when Grace as usual was
obliged to leave the prison, there was no Jonathan in waiting to
accompany her all the dreary long way home: this was strange, as his
good-hearted master, privately informed of his noble attachment, never
refused the man permission, but winked, for the time, at his frequent
evening absence. Nevertheless, on this occasion, as would happen now and
then, Floyd could not escape from the dining-room; probably because--Mr.
Jennings had secretly gone forth to escort the girl himself.
Accordingly, instead of loved Jonathan, sidled up to her the loathsome
Simon.
Let me not soil these pages by recording, in however guarded phrase, the
grossness of this wretch's propositions; it was a long way to Hurstley,
and the reptile never ceased tormenting her every step of it, till the
village was in sight: twice she ran, and he ran too, keeping up with
her, and pouring into her ear a father's cruel fate and his own
detestable alternative. She never once spoke to him, but kept on praying
in her own pure mind for a just acquittal; not for one moment would she
entertain the wicked thought of "doing evil that good might come;" and
so, with flushed cheek, tingling ears, the mien of an insulted empress,
and the dauntless resolution of a heroine, she hastened on to Hurstley.
Look here! by great good fortune comes Jonathan Floyd to meet her.
"Save me, Jonathan, save me!" and she fainted in his arms.
Now, truth to say, though Sir John knew it, Simon did not, that Grace
was Jonathan's beloved and betrothed; and the cause lay simply in this,
that Jonathan had frankly told his master of it, when he found the
dreadful turn things had taken with poor Roger; but as to Simon, no
mortal in the neighbourhood ever communicated with him, further than as
urged by fell necessity. Of course, the lovers' meetings were as private
as all such matters generally are; and Sarah's aid managed them
admirably. Therefore it now came to pass that Simon and Jonathan looked
on each other in mutual astonishment, and needs must wait until Grace
Acton could explain the "save me." Not but that Jennings seemed much as
if he wished to run away; but he did not know how to manage it.
"Dear Jonathan," she whispered feebly, "save me from Simon Jennings."
In an instant, Jonathan's grasp was tightly involved in the bailiff's
stiff white neckcloth. And Grace, with much maidenly reserve, told her
lover all she dared to utter of that base bartering for her father's
life.
"Come straight along with me, you villain, straight to the master!" And
the sturdy Jonathan, administering all the remainder of the way (a
quarter of a mile of avenue made part of it) innumerable kickings and
cuffings, hauled the half-mummied bailiff into the servants' hall.
"Now then, straight before the master! John Page, be so good as to knock
at the dining-room door, and ask master very respectfully if his honour
will be good enough to suffer me to speak to him."