good: but, alas! I doubt your power. You know not with whom you have to
deal. Blennerhagen prides himself on being impregnable: he talks to me
of working like a mathematician: he says that all his plans are laid
down with such geometrical precision that they cannot fail. He has
thrown such a magic web about me, that I have felt myself to be almost
his slaye; and yet, thank heaven, I am innocent, and loathe him. Save
me, Mr. Burdock!--but not at the expense of my husband's life: save me,
I implore you!--I have no other friend.”
“I will save--I will extricate you, if it be in the power of man. I have
worked like a negro for my money, and may soon be past working, and want
it. I have debarred myself of every indulgence; but I can--I will
afford to gratify my feelings, for once in my life, even at the risk of
diminishing some of my hard-earned little hoard. Mrs. Wyburn, I'll
back myself, if need be, with a thousand pounds, and,--confound the
fellow,--have at him! Excuse me for swearing; but I'm warmed, and feel a
pleasure in indulging--”
“Be temperate, sir, in your proceedings, lest you forget that next to my
own innocence, my husband's life--”
“Do not fear, madam. Is Mr. Wyburn in prison, or at a lock-up house?”
“At the lock-up house, sir, in Serle's Buildings.”
“Then I'll bail him. Hassell may laugh at me, when he hears that I have
stepped out of my cautious path, if he likes; but I'll begin by bailing
Wyburn: for his liberty, at this time, is of the utmost value. Within
a few days, the great straggle will come on, which must settle the main
question between Hassell's clients and the executors: on the fortunate
result of that depends your only hope; and a poor hope it is, I must
confess: still, Wyburn should be at large to fight it out, and strive to
the last After to-day, I ought to be in hourly consultation with him.
“Blennerhagen knows all this; and, not expecting God would raise up
such a friend to George, has caused him to be arrested. As he boasts
of generally making his actions produce double results, he flatters
himself, also, that I, being thus overwhelmed with this new misfortune,
and deprived of the protecting presence of my husband,--”
“Curse him!--he shall be foiled! I won't put up with it, while I have
breath!”
“I must tell you,--for, as you now have heard so much, you should know
all,--that one of the threats or temptations he holds out to me, is
this:--'Wyburn,' he says, 'will soon, in all probability, be entirely
dependent on my bounty; for having, through my marriage with Mrs.
Winpennie, an entire control over the ten thousand pounds legacy, which
will, apparently, eat up the whole of your father's property, after
payment of the debts, I can starve Wyburn, if I like.' This is a
specimen of the language which he dares to use to me. Had I my jewels
left, I could have raised a sufficient sum, perhaps, to procure George
his liberty, without troubling you; but Blennerhagen obtained them from
me long ago, without Mr. Wyburn's knowledge, by protesting that he had
spent all he possessed to keep the bondholders quiet, and wanted money
to enable him to make a figure before Mrs. Winpennie. I have been very
weak and very foolish, you will say; but what could I do? Blennerhagen
dares me to reveal a syllable of what passes at our interviews, to my
husband: he tells me that he should instantly detect my treachery by
George's conduct. I am forced to see--to hear him:--he is the worst of
tyrants. If I strive to extricate myself from his wiles, I plunge deeper
in his toils. To remain passive is to offer up myself a willing victim
to a being, whom, of all others, I abhor. Could I have taken counsel of
my husband, all might have been well: but I have not dared to breathe
a word to him of my sorrows; and Blennerhagen well knows how to obtain
advantages over a wife, deprived, as I have been, of her natural
supporter.”
“It shall be at an end, I tell you: Wyburn shall be bailed, and I'll try
if _I_ can't play off a few tricks. We'll countermine this scoundrel.
I'll insure your husband's life for my security, and then, if he have
so high a sense of honour as you think, he won't fix me as his bail by
shooting himself; for I shall make him understand that the office won't
pay, if the insured perishes by his own hands; so that we're safe until
November: and, in the interim, I'll sacrifice a little to those feelings
which laudable prudence has taught me, hitherto, to smother. It's hard
if a man cannot make a fool of himself once in his life; and, should I
lose my time and money both, humanity will be a plea for me, with my own
conscience, and that of every honest man in the world. Besides, I'm only
fifty, and shall not die a beggar if it comes to the worst, perhaps. I
will fulfil my promise, madam, be assured! Time is precious:--have you
anything more to ask of me?”
“A glass of water,” faintly replied Mrs. Wyburn; “a glass of water and a
little air; for my strength is gone.”
Burdock, with great alacrity, opened the little window of his room, and
brought Mrs. Wyburn some water, in a broken cup, time enough to save
her from fainting. Some one knocked at the outer door, and she almost
immediately afterwards rose to depart. Burdock conducted her to the foot
of the staircase, begging her to keep up her spirits, and protesting
that he thought he should prove himself as good a mathematician as
Blen-nerhagen: “for,” added he, “I have dabbled in the science, and
Euclid still affords me amusement in my hours of relaxation from legal
business.”
The person who had knocked at the office door just before Mrs. Wyburn's
departure, was the bearer of a note from Blennerhagen's wife, in which
she earnestly requested the favour of a consultation with Burdock, at
her own house, on an affair of the utmost importance. The lady stated
that she was confined to her room by indisposition, otherwise she would
have paid him a visit in Fumival's Inn; and she protested that, if
he did not so far indulge her as immediately to obey her summons, she
would, at the risk of her life, wait upon him at his office.
“Paul Winpennie's choice was always a fool,” muttered Burdock, as he
threw the letter on his table, after having perused its contents; “she
was always fantastical, and apt to magnify atoms into elephants; but
I don't think she would write me such an epistle as this, if something
extraordinary had not occurred: ergo, I'll go to her at once. Perhaps I
may glean something which may assist me in extricating Wyburn: I hope
I shall; for though I have promised his wife so much, at this moment I
can't see my way clear a single inch beyond my nose,--except so far as
regards bailing him, which I'll do as soon as I return. It is possible,
that the woman has discovered something; for the most silly of her sex
possess an astonishing acuteness on particular occasions. I may meet
Blennerhagen with his wife, too:--at all events I'll go, and ponder on
the way as to what proceedings I ought to take against this mathematical
monster:--for act against him, I will; on that I'm fixed--that is--if I
can find out a way to do so, with any prospect of success.”
As Burdock concluded this little soliloquy, one of his clerks returned;
and the old gentleman, without a moment's delay, set off towards
Blennerhagen's house. On reaching the corner of the street in which it
stood, he was accosted by a female, who begged him, in a very mysterious
manner, to follow her.
“My good woman,” said Burdock, “you are in error, I apprehend.”
“Not if I am speaking to Mr. Burdock, and if you are going to Mrs.
Blennerhagen,” replied the woman.
“I certainly am that man,” said Burdock; “and you are quite right in
supposing that I am on my way to visit that lady:--what then?”
“Follow me and I will conduct you to her. I am her woman, and act by her
orders.”
“Mighty odd!” exclaimed the attorney; “but lead on;--I'll follow you.
I suppose she has her reasons for this; and it matters but little to me
which way I go, so that--mark me, woman--so that I am not led a dance:
for though I walk slowly, on account of an infirmity in my knees, time,
I assure you, is precious to me. Go forward.”
The woman immediately walked on towards a little back street, down which
she proceeded a short distance, and then turned under an old arched
gateway into a solitary yard. The buildings on one side of this place
appeared, by a weather-beaten notice board, to have been long without
tenants. Through a low wall, on the opposite side of the yard, there
were entrance-doors to the back gardens of a range of respectable
houses.
“I perceive,” said Burdock, as the woman opened one of the garden doors,
“that you are smuggling me in the back way.--Give my compliments to your
mistress, and tell her, that I prefer entering in the ordinary manner.
If you will step through the house, I dare say I shall be at the front
door nearly as soon as you have opened it.”
Burdock then turned on his heel, and strode away from his guide at
rather a brisk pace. On reaching the front door, he found the woman
there waiting for him. Casting on the old gentleman a look of reproach,
and significantly putting her finger to her lips, she conducted him up
stairs, and silently ushered him into Mrs. Blennerhagen's dressing-room.
The lady, who was reclining on a sofa, attired in an elegant morning
dress, rose as he entered; and, between jest and earnest, reproached
him for not having given a more prompt attention to her note. Burdock
protested that he had not been guilty of the least delay in obeying her
commands.
“Well, well!” said the lady, “perhaps I am wrong; but to a woman of my
nerves, suffering at once under indisposition, and the most agonizing
suspense, every moment seems to be an age.”
“What's the matter, madam?” inquired Burdock. “Where is Mr.
Blennerhagen?”
“Thank Heaven! he is out:--my anxiety has been intense lest you should
not arrive before he returned. My dear Mr. Burdock, I'm in the greatest
distress.”
“Then, upon my honour and conscience, madam, I don't see how I can be of
any assistance to you; for my hands are so full of female distress just
now--”
“Oh, sir!--but not such pressing--such important distress as mine.
Recollect that I'm a wife;--a wife, Mr. Burdock, and not altogether
indifferent to my husband.”
“Well, madam! there are many wives who can say quite as much, I assure
you.--But now for your facts: I am bound to hear, even if I cannot
assist you.”
“Ah! you're a kind--a dear old gentleman:--I always said so, and now I
find that I am right. You have a heart formed to sympathize with those
who are in sorrow.”
“The world thinks rather differently of me,” replied Burdock: “my
feelings, I know by experience, will bear as much as most men's.
Business, madam,--business has hardened them:--but, allow me to ask,
what has occurred? You seem to have been ruffled.”
“Do I?” said Mrs. Blennerhagen, turning to a looking-glass which stood
on the table by her side, and glancing at the reflection of her still
lovely face, with a look of anxiety. “Well, now I see myself, I declare
I'm quite frightened. I positively look like a hag! don't I?--I ought
not to suffer such trifles to affect me so severely.”
“Trifles, my dear madam!” emphatically exclaimed the attorney: “I
beg your pardon; but I was led to understand, from the tenor of your
language--”
“Attribute it to the excess of my womanly fears,--increased, perhaps, by
indisposition,--and excuse me. We are weak creatures, as you must know;
even the very best of us are agitated into agony, by phantoms of our own
creation. My suspicions--”
“Am I summoned to advise you on suspicion, then?”
“Nothing more, I assure you: and, really, I ought to be ashamed to
entertain, for one instant, so poor an opinion of Mr. B.'s taste; and,
permit me to say it, of my own person. Now I reflect, it was exceedingly
wrong of me, perhaps, to be jealous of the woman.”
“I wish, with all my heart, madam, you had reflected an hour ago.”
“Would that I had! I should have been saved much--much uneasiness:--but
I now laugh at my fears,” said the lady, affecting to titter.
“I am sorry I cannot join you, madam.”
“Ah, Mr. Burdock! I know the interest you take in my happiness; and,
therefore, I sent for you to advise,--to comfort me. I look up to you as
to my father.”
“You do me an honour, Mrs. Blennerhagen, to which I never had an idea of
aspiring.”
“The honour is entirely on my side, Mr. Burdock,” replied the lady,
taking one of Burdock's hands in both her own; “I feel proud to be
permitted to make free with so worthy and respectable a character. My
confidence in you is unbounded, Mr. Burdock: you see, I receive you in
my dressing-room--”
“For mine own part,” interrupted the attorney, “I should have preferred
the parlour; and so, most probably, would Mr. Blennerhagen.”
“Don't talk so foolishly, Mr. Burdock:--attorneys, like physicians, are
privileged persons, you know.”
“True, true, madam,” said Burdock, rather hastily quitting his seat;
“and now, as the cause of our conference is at an end, I will take my
leave.”
“My dear sir, you surely are not going to quit me in this state:--you
have not heard my complaint.”
“I thought your mind was easy on the subject.”
“Oh! by no means! I am far from soothed,--far from tranquillized: your
discrimination may shed a new light upon my mind. I must insist on
throwing myself upon your consideration.”
“For consistency's sake, don't blow hot and cold in the same moment,
Mrs. Blennerhagen. Be in a rage, or be pacified: and if I must hear your
tale of woe, the sooner you tell it the better.”
“You'll promise not to call me a silly, foolish woman, then, if you
think my apprehensions were groundless.”
“Of course, madam, I should scarcely call a lady a fool to her face,
even if I thought she deserved it.”
“How deeply I am indebted to you!--you cannot conceive how much the
cast of your countenance, when you look pleasant, reminds me of my late
excellent husband,--poor Mr. Winpennie!--Alas! I never was jealous of
him, with or without a cause. He was the best--the kindest--”
“Excuse me, madam; but, however I may reverence the memory of Mr.
Winpennie, my time is of too much value, and too seriously engrossed
just now, by my duties towards the livings to listen to an eulogy on the
dead.”
“Well! no doubt you are perfectly right: the value of your time, I know,
must be great. In a few words, then, about two hours ago, my servant
acquainted me that there was a strange-looking creature inquiring at the
door for Mr. Blennerhagen: she was painted up to the eyes, and dressed
in a vulgar amber-coloured pelisse, with staring sapphire ribbons--”
Burdock here interrupted the lady, by exclaiming, “Hang me if it isn't
the woman in brimstone and blue!” and bursting into a hearty laugh.
“Why, Mr. Burdock, you astonish me!” exclaimed Mrs. Blennerhagen; “I
beseech you to cease;--my head will split;--you shatter my nerves to
atoms. I insist upon your explaining yourself;--I shall scream if
you don't cease laughing, and tell me the meaning of this mysterious
conduct.”
“Oh, madam!” replied Burdock, endeavouring to resume his gravity, “do
not be alarmed at that unhappy creature:--I sent her here.”
“Is it possible, Mr. Burdock, that a man of your respectability can have
such acquaintance?”
“The woman is not what she appears, Mrs. Blennerhagen. I saw her, for
the first time in my life, to-day. Her business with me was briefly as
follows:--About three years ago, a certain sum was remitted to me by a
country attorney, for whom I act as agent, to invest for this woman;
and I deposited it in the hands of Joshua Kesterton. Circumstances now
compel her to call in her money; but a legal difficulty occurs in
paying her off; and I referred her to Mr. Blennerhagen, who, in all
probability, will be the party most interested in the matter; thinking
that, as the sum was small, he might, perhaps, from motives of charity,
relieve the woman's wretchedness, by waiving the legal objection at his
own risk. Ha, ha! And so I have to thank the woman in sulphur and blue
for my walk, eh?”
“Mr. Burdock, I vow, sir, that you overwhelm me with confusion: but if
you were a woman, I am sure you would admit, that when a female of this
lady's appearance makes such particular inquiries after a newly-married
man, and refuses to tell her business to his wife--”
“Ha, ha, ha!” exclaimed the attorney again; “that, too, I plead guilty
of producing. I told her, that you had nothing to do with the matter:
for that the legal estate was vested, by your marriage, in Blennerhagen.
I am willing to acknowledge, that the circumstances were suspicious:
and, as long as I live, be assured that I will never send a female, in
a yellow and azure dress, to a married man again. Hoping you will forget
the uneasiness which I have innocently brought upon you, I now, madam,
beg permission to withdraw.”
Burdock had risen from his chair, and was on the point of taking up his
hat and cane, when Mrs. Bleunerhagen's servant entered the room, and
said, in a hurried tone, that her master was at the street door.
“Then, I'll wait to see him,” said Burdock, placing his hat and cane on
the table again, and resuming his seat.
“Heavens, sir! are you mad?” exclaimed Mrs. Blennerhagen. “Unfortunate
woman, that I am!--I did not expect him this half-hour. What is to be
done, Wilmot?”
“Don't be alarmed, madam,” replied the woman; “there's quite time enough
for the gentleman to get into the cupboard.”
“Is there no other resource left, Wilmot?”
“None that I can see, madam!” replied the woman; “he'll meet master on
the stairs if he goes down: and though there's time enough, there's no
time to be lost. Sir,” added she, taking up the attorney's hat and cane,
“you'd better slip in at once.”
“Slip in!” exclaimed Burdock; “why should I slip in?--What do you mean?”
“Don't speak so loud, sir:--master will hear you,” said Wilmot.
“What do I care?” cried Burdock, in a stern tone; “are you out of your
senses? Why should I hide like a galivanting beau in a farce?”
“Oh! the wretch! he'll be the ruin of my reputation!” exclaimed the
lady.
“Reputation!--What have I to do with your reputation, Mrs Blennerhagen?”
“This is my mistress's dressing-room, you see, sir.”
“Well, you brought me here, woman: and if it is, as your mistress
says,--attorneys, like physicians, are privileged persons.”
“Oh! he won't discriminate, Wilmot. Don't you know, you cruel man, that
we can't blind others with what we blind ourselves? I am as pure as
an angel; but appearance is every thing; and Mr. Blennerhagen is more
jealous than a Turk.”
“That I am sure he is, madam; for he doats on you.”
“And you, Mr. Burdock, will not be complaisant enough to save our
connubial bliss from being wrecked for ever.--If you don't comply, I
must scream out, and say you intruded yourself.”
“Will you hear me speak?” cried the enraged attorney.
“Hark, how he bawls! And he knows well enough the wife of Cæsar must
not even be suspected,” said Mrs. Blennerhagen; “let the wretch ruin
me;--do, Wilmot.”
“Indeed I won't, madam, if I can help it. Come, sir, if you are a
gentleman, prove yourself to be so.”
“Bedlamites! will you hear me?--is not my character--”
“Oh! he is a bachelor attorney, and lives in chambers, Wilmot: and you
know the character of that class of men is quite obnoxious in cases of
reputation: but let him have his way; I must be his martyr, I see.”
“Come, come, sir,--right or wrong, be civil to a lady.”
“What, do you think I'll make a Jack-pudding of myself?”
“Stop his mouth, Wilmot: don't let him speak; for I hear the creak of
Mr. Blennerhagen's boot.”
The lady and her woman now seized on the astonished attorney, and thrust
him into a closet. The door was instantly closed on him, and the key
turned in the lock. Mrs. Blennerhagen returned to the sofa; and Wilmot
was applying a smelling-bottle to her nose, bathing her brows, &c.,
as though she was just reviving from a fainting fit, when the majestic
Blennerhagen entered the room.
With a keen and hurried glance he seemed to survey every object around
him, while he closed the door: he then approached the sofa, and uttered
a few endearing epithets while he relieved Wilmot from the task of
supporting her mistress. 'Anxious to get rid of him, Mrs. Blennerhagen
rapidly recovered; and her husband having, apparently by accident,
mentioned that he had left a friend in the parlour, she urged him, by
all means, to return ta his guest, as she found herself comparatively
well, and desirous of obtaining a little repose. Blennerhagen kissed her
cheek; and after recommending her to the care of Wilmot, passed round
the sofa to a writing-desk, which was placed on a table behind it, where
he remained a few moments, and then hastily withdrew.
Mrs. Blennerhagen immediately resumed her activity. “Now, my dear
Wilmot,” said she, “our only hope is to get the attorney down the back
stairs, and away through the garden.”
“That is how I have settled it, madam, in my own mind,” said the woman:
“master won't be up again at least these ten minutes.”
“If you have any pity, emancipate me from this state of torture,”
groaned poor Burdock: “I would face a roaring lion rather than remain
here any longer; my reflections are most poignant.”
“Gracious Heaven!” exclaimed Mrs. Blennerhagen, “I've lost the key.”
“Then, of course, you will permit me to burst open the door,” said the
attorney.
“Not on any account: be patient, I beseech you. Wilmot, where could I
have put it?”
“I don't know, madam; you locked the door yourself: search in your
bosom.”
“I have; but it is not there:--nor on the sofa,--nor any where. You must
have had it.”
“Indeed, madam, I never saw it since you took it off the shelf to lock
the door.”
“Women!” exclaimed Burdock, whose patience was completely worn out;
“rash, mischievous, accursed women! take notice that I am become
desperate; and if you do not find the key and release me instantly, I
shall certainly break out, and depart, at all hazards.”
“For all our sakes have patience, sir,” said the lady, in a soothing
tone; “be quiet but for a few moments: I hear Mr. Blennerhagen's boot
again.”
Before his wife could reach the sofa, Blennerhagen strode in,
accompanied by a stranger.
“Outraged, injured, as I am,” said he, fixing his dark eye indignantly
on his wife, “I make no apology for thus introducing a stranger to your
apartment. This gentleman is my friend, and comes here with me, at
my own request, to be a witness of my shame; so that I may be able
to obtain legal reparation, at least, from the unknown assassin of my
happiness. Peterson,” added he, turning to the stranger, “take the key
and open that closet-door.”
“Lord! Mr. Blennerhagen,” said the lady, with a forced laugh; “don't
carry on the joke, by making such serious faces: I told you, Wilmot, he
would be too deep for us:--see, now, if he hasn't got the key. Where did
you find it, love?”
“I took it, madam, from your hand,” replied Blennerhagen, “when your
mind was occupied in affecting a painful and languishing recovery from
syncope. This may be a jest to you, but it is none to me; nor shall
it be to him who has wronged me. I have set my mark upon the
villain:--perceiving a portion of male attire, which I could not
recognise as my own, hanging from the crevice of the closet-door, while
I appeared to be busy at the desk behind you, I cut it off: I have it
here,” added Blennerhagen, producing a triangular piece of brown cloth
from his pocket; “let the man who owns it claim it if he dare.”
“Adam Burdock dares to claim his own in any place,” exclaimed the
attorney, bursting the door open with one furious effort: “that's a
piece of the tail of my coat.”
“Mr. Burdock!” exclaimed Blennerhagen.
“Ay, sir, Mr. Burdock,--heartily ashamed of himself, for being made a
ninny by your wife, or a dupe by both of you and my precious friend,
Mrs. Wilmot. You all look astonished; but, be assured, there is no one
here half so much astonished as myself. I believe you to be capable of
anything, Blennerhagen; but, on a moment's consideration, I think your
wife is too much of a simpleton to act as your confederate, in a plot on
my pocket; and notwithstanding your skill in mathematics, I am willing
to attribute all this to mere accident.”
“He calls me a simpleton, Wilmot;--he casts a slur on my intellects, Mr.
Blennerhagen,” exclaimed the lady.
“In that he is more uncharitable than myself, madam,” said Blennerhagen:
“it may be an accident, it is true; but I question whether the
gentleman, with all his professional skill, will be able to persuade a
special jury to think so.”
“I am sure my mistress is as innocent as the child unborn,” observed
Mrs. Wilmot.
“Hold your tongue, woman, and leave the room,” said Blennerhagen,
angrily.