attorney had yet made up his mind to state, on what occasion, and for
what purpose, he had visited Mrs. Blennerhagen in her dressing-room.
“I have not spoken to Hassell on the subject,” replied Burdock; “but I
feel no repugnance, under present circumstances, to say that she sent
for me because she was jealous of the woman in brimstone and blue. I
have her note, if you wish to look at it. When she heard you coming,
I was pushed, _nolens volens_, into the cupboard, by your wife and her
maid. That, briefly, is the whole of the matter. By-the-by, I should
add, that I acquainted Mrs. Blennerhagen with the lady's business, and I
am now willing to do you the same service.”
“You are very obliging:--to ascertain that, is partly my object in
calling on you.”
Burdock now went through the particulars of the poor woman's case with
great minuteness. Blennerhagen listened very attentively, and, at the
conclusion of the recital, observed, “This is all new to me.”
“Of course it is,” replied the attorney; “because, legally speaking,
you have nothing to do with it. It concerns the executors, in the first
instance; and not you, who, by your marriage, merely represent the
legatee: their straight-forward course is to send the woman about
her business, because she is a _feme covert_, and cannot give a
release,--the title being in her blackguard husband. The executors
are bound to act strictly; but if you, who are the party beneficially
interested, out of motives of feeling think fit to run the risk of
consenting to her paltry claim being paid off, out of your enormous
legacy, why, of course, they would willingly do it. To give her a
chance, I took leave to refer her to you, in order that you might hear
the story from her own lips.”
“I shall be happy to be guided by you,” said Blennerhagen; “but I see
nothing, for my own part, in this case that should induce us to go
out of the usual course. Were we to put our hands into our pockets to
relieve every deserving object that occurs to our notice, we should
soon become paupers ourselves. Those who are rich have often as powerful
calls on their charity for hundreds--nay, thousands--as pence; but they
are compelled to exert their philosophy, and conquer their inclinations
to relieve; in fact, for their own sakes, to marshal reason against mere
feeling. You ground your appeal on the score of charity; but I could
name much greater objects of charity than this woman. She must abide
by the consequences of her own folly. She has been stripped of her
property, and deserted by her husband, you say: well,--that's hard, I
confess; but you know such cases are continually occurring. It would
require the exchequer of a Croesus to remunerate,--for that is the
proper word,--to remunerate all the women who have been plundered
by those whom they have chosen to make legal proprietors,--observe
me,--legal proprietors of their property. Besides, we have only this
person's own word in support of her strange statement: how do we know
but what she was quite as improvident as her husband? And who is to say
that, instead of his deserting his wife, the lady herself might not have
driven him from his home? It is in the power of some of the sex to do
such things.”
“That may be true enough,” said Burdock; “but I am warranted in saying
the contrary is the fact, in the present case, by the letter of a most
respectable correspondent, which the woman brought with her. That
the husband was a most consummate villain, I have ample evidence.
My informant states,--but I will read that portion of his epistle,”
continued Burdock, taking a letter from his desk: “speaking of the
husband, he says, during his short stay in our neighbourhood, previously
to the marriage, he contrived, by obtaining goods on credit from several
tradesmen, to support a respectable appearance; and my unfortunate
client, believing him to be a man of some property,--although nobody
knew who he was, or where he came from,--encouraged his addresses,'
And then, a little below, it is stated, that 'on account of a sudden
indisposition with which she was attacked, the wedding was postponed.
The delay thus produced had nearly proved fatal to the hopes of our
adventurer: bills, which he had given to some of his creditors, became
due, and were dishonoured. Proceedings being hinted at, he called the
tradespeople together, and very coolly requested them to give him time.
The creditors said they did not feel inclined to do so, because'--favour
me with your attention, Mr. Blennerhagen--'because they had strong
suspicions that the bills were forgeries; and that, if such were the
case,--and they had but little doubt of the fact,--it was in their power
to hang him. This intimation, which would have staggered any man but
him to whom it was addressed, did not produce any visible effect on his
feelings. He very calmly told them, in reply, that even if the bills
were forgeries,--which, of course, he could not admit,--he should feel
under no apprehension; for, said he, I know that you are all too needy
to sacrifice your own interests for the sake of public justice: you
cannot afford to lose your money; and lose it, you certainly would, as
you all very well know, if you prosecuted me to conviction. Were I a
wretch, without present means or future expectations, I should expect
no mercy; but as you are aware that I am on the eve of marriage with a
woman of some property, you will act upon that excellent maxim--charity
begins at home, and keep the alleged forgeries in your pockets, in hopes
that I shall take them up as soon as I am married. You owe a duty to the
public, but you owe a greater to yourselves and to your families; and
you'd much rather take ten shillings in the pound, than see me, even
if I were guilty, dangling at your expense in any devil's larder in the
country.'”
“Well, sir, the creditors waited.”
“They did; but the deuce a bit did he pay them: he got what money he
could together, as soon as he was married, and left them, as well as his
wife, in the lurch. They have now sent me up the bills, as there's no
hope of his paying them, and begged me to get hold of him if I can: they
say he has been seen in London without his whiskers; and that, in a few
days, they hope to afford me some clue to his present haunts. They refer
me to his wife for a description of his person, which I mean to get of
her at our next interview, if I can persuade the woman to be calm enough
to give it me.”
“What is her name?”
“Tonks.”
“Then I am right in my suspicions.”
“To what do you allude?”
“Mr. Burdock,” said Blennerhagen, “I will not scruple to confess that
I know the man. Tainted as his character now is, he has been worthy
of esteem. Once in his life, sir, he did me so essential a
service,--greatly to his own detriment,--that I have ever since groaned
under the obligation, and never, until this moment, did I entertain a
hope of being able to relieve myself from its weight.”
“This is very odd,” said the attorney; “but I am resolved not to be
amazed. And, pray, on what do your hopes to help him rest?”
“On my interest with you.”
“That is not worth a button; and, if it were, I don't see how you could
benefit the man. Professional pursuits have not altogether destroyed
my feelings; but I don't think that I should repent having been
instrumental in bringing such a villain as this to justice.”
“Do not let us be too hasty in consigning a man to infamy,” replied
Blennerhagen. “Circumstances are often powerful palliatives of guilt;
and circumstances, you know, are not always--are they ever?--under our
own control. Offences, which, abstractedly considered, appear heinous,
would lose much of their odium, were we in possession of the whole chain
of consequences, from the first inducement to commit crime, to its final
consummation; and it would be but common charity to hope that such may
have been the case in the present instance. I stand excused, at least, I
trust, for endeavouring to evince my gratitude to this man.”
“How can you possibly do so?”
“By procuring the destruction of those bills.”
“What did you say?”
“Destroy those acceptances in my presence, and do me a trifling favour
which I shall presently mention,--understanding, of course, that you
will solemnly assure me I have not been injured,--and the events of this
morning shall be buried in oblivion.”
“Why, I really thought you had more sense than to make so absurd a
proposal,” said the attorney: “how am I to account to my clients for the
loss of their papers?”
“Oh! every one knows that man is fallible, and may mislay things:
clerks, too,--who have access to an attorney's private room,--are poor,
and open to temptation: laundresses frequently sweep valuable documents
off the floor and burn them: even iron chests are not impregnable; and
robberies take place in spite of every precaution.”
“I certainly never met with your equal, Blennerhagen: and I'll tell you
a piece of my mind presently;--something has just struck me.”
“I'll hear you with pleasure; but let us dispose of this little matter
at once:--hand me over the bills, pay the woman what she wants, and send
her back into the country to-morrow morning. Tonks has many excuses for
his conduct, with which, however, it is needless to trouble you. He has
acted improperly,--I will even say, criminally,--but I cannot let this
opportunity escape of balancing our obligations. I shall feel much more
easy after it. I must, therefore, press you to oblige me.”
“You stated, just now, that you had some other little favour to ask.”
“Had we not better settle this affair first? My plan is always to clear
away as I proceed.”
“I, on the contrary, when any arrangement is contemplated between
parties, like to bring every point into hotch-pot, as a preliminary
step.”
“Say no more, Mr. Burdock;--I will yield with pleasure. It is rather
a disagreeable subject on which I am compelled to touch; but I will go
into it at once. Wyburn's wife has been with you to-day;--she stated
something to my disadvantage.”
“What induces you to suppose so?”
“To be candid,--your threats this morning aroused my suspicions. I have
since seen Mrs. Wyburn, and extracted the facts from her.”
“What facts?”
“_Imprimis_,--that she has visited you to-day.”
“Granted.”
“_Item_,--that she has thrown out hints which, if founded in
truth, would not, perhaps, tend materially to the enhancement of my
reputation.”
“I shall say nothing on that subject.”
“Can you deny it?--If I am wrong, why not deny it?--Will you deny it?”
“No, I won't.”
“Then it is as I imagined.--Now, sir, as you are kindly disposed towards
my friend, I wish to warn you, seriously, against that young woman. She
labours under gross delusions: an idea has entered her head, that I am
her husband's enemy, and an admirer of her person. Nothing can be more
preposterous. She has reproached me, bitterly, for every step that
I have taken to benefit George Wyburn, under the impression that my
proceedings would be prejudicial to him. I acquit her of malice; but
she certainly is very deficient in common sense. Perhaps, however, I
am uncharitable in saying this; for women, in her sphere of life, are
totally incapable of forming a just opinion on the actions of man
in mere matters of business. They are like those spectators of a
chess-match, who, having obtained only a slight glimmering of the
mysteries of the game, consider those moves of a piece which are,
in fact, master-strokes of skill, as tending to bring the king into
check-mate.”
“You are a chess-player, I presume, Mr. Blennerhagen,” said Burdock.
“I am, sir; chess is my favourite game. But to proceed with my
statement:--George Wyburn himself is by no means a man of business.
Proud, and ridiculously affecting independence, although he scarcely
possesses a shilling, he would disdain the slightest favour I could
offer him: he will not willingly be under an obligation to any man. That
assistance, which in extremity he might accept from a stranger, he would
scorn if proffered by a friend: I am, therefore, under the necessity of
acting in the most circuitous manner, to benefit him. If I do good, in
my office as his friend, I must do so by stealth. Mrs. Wyburn has not
mind enough to perceive this: a combination of manouvres is to her
mysterious, and consequently fearful; for she cannot imagine how
anything can be fair that is not manifest to her limited capacity. Now,
sir, I have already made considerable progress in relieving my friend
from his difficulties, and I do not wish to be thwarted, either by this
woman's weakness, her whims, or her delusions. I can convince you, at
once, of the honesty of my intentions; and I call on you, as at least a
well-wisher to George Wyburn, not to countenance his wife's follies, but
to put on the wisdom of the adder, and be deaf to her tales;--in fact,
not to bring yourself into trouble, by becoming the confidant of another
man's wife, and her abettor, without his knowledge, in counteracting
such measures as his best friend may think fit to adopt for his
ultimate, if not immediate, benefit. I am urged to make this
communication; I do it unwillingly, but I think you will feel that I am
right.”
“And this is your request, Mr. Blennerhagen?”
“It is.”
“Have you any thing else to ask?”
“Absolutely nothing:--I require nothing but your promise on this point.”
“And the bills--”
“Oh!--of course, the bills:--your promise and the bills.”
“You have omitted to prove to me the honesty of your intentions towards
Mr. Wyburn.”
“I will do so in a few words.--Although piqued at George for not
immediately acquainting me with the circumstance of his being arrested,
the moment I quitted you this morning, I flew to his creditors, and
procured his instant release, by becoming security for payment of the
bonds on which he had been arrested. You, doubtless, have ascertained
that he is discharged: if not, you may do so at once, by sending one of
your clerks to the lock-up house. This, you must allow, is a tolerably
good proof of my intentions towards him. You will understand, that I do
not wish him to know how far I have gone, as it would be needless, at
pre-tent, to hurt his pride. We should reverence a friend's feelings,
although, to our minds, they may appear failings. You are now convinced,
I hope.”
“I am!” exclaimed Burdock, with unusual energy; “I am convinced that you
are an atrocious scoundrel!--Don't frown, or pretend to be in a passion,
or I'll shew you no mercy. You're check-mated, Blennerhagen.”
“Mr. Burdock! what's the matter?--What has possessed you?”
“A spirit to put out and amove such a monster as you are from honest
society. To dumb-founder you, if it be possible, without more ado, know
that I am fully acquainted with the contents of the note you wrote in my
presence this morning:--'Gillard--I must change my plans--let Wyburn be
instantly released--contrive that he shall suspect he owes his liberty
to my having become security for his debts--Blennerhagen.' I have the
words, your hear, by heart; and what's better, for my purpose, I
have them in your own hand-writing, in my iron chest. I tore off the
impression which you made with the note on your blotting-paper. Now,
sir, what say you?”
“Nothing,” replied the Mathematician, with his ordinary composure of
manner; “nothing, but that I shall be under the necessity of entering
into a longer explanation than I could wish at this moment, in order to
clear up the circumstance.”
“I will hear no more of your plausible explanations:--I have heard
enough already. It is time for me to speak.”
“With all my heart.”
“Where is the letter which George Wyburn wrote to you,--that letter
in which he stated he was about to destroy himself?--Be brief in your
reply--where is it?”
“Burned.”
“'Tis false! I must be explicit: you shewed it to Mrs. Wyburn very
lately;--say within these two days.”
“I beg to suggest, that before you gave me the lie, (I postpone the
insult for a moment,) you should have reflected that even in two days
there is time enough to burn ten thousand letters, and that I have not
been deprived of volition during that period.”
“Admitted. But I know more than you imagine; and I will not be trifled
with. You deem it to be so valuable a document, that you commonly
have it about your person. Allow me merely to run my eye through your
pocket-book.”
“You carry this with too high a hand, Mr. Burdock,” said Blennerhagen;
“you ask too much, sir; and in a manner, that one who possessed less
calmness than myself, would not tolerate. I am not to be intimidated.
It would be as well, perhaps, if we postponed this discussion, until you
are in a cooler mood.”
“Not yet, sir; not yet, if you please. I have something more serious to
say.”
“You are not going to unmask a battery on me, I hope,” said
Blennerhagen, with apparent gaiety.
“It may be that I am. Hear me:--I hope I shall be forgiven if I am
wrong: should I, however, be in error, a few hours will set me right.
I strongly suspect--I will not call you Blennerhagen, for I have little
doubt but that--”
“Hold!” exclaimed Blennerhagen, placing his hand on Burdock's
lips;--“hold! I beseech, I entreat you. Before you utter another word,
I demand, I implore the favour of being allowed to commune for a few
moments with myself.”
Burdock intimated his acquiescence by a nod to this request.
Blennerhagen rose from his seat, and paced rapidly up and down the room.
A multitude of thoughts seemed to be hurrying through his mind; and
large drops of perspiration trickled unheeded from his brow. After a few
moments had elapsed, he began to recover his composure, and resumed his
chair.
“Mr. Burdock,” said he, “I am grateful for this indulgence. It is,
I believe, an established principle, with professional men, that the
confidential communications of a client should be held most sacred.”
“So far as regards myself, and many whom I know, that is certainly the
case,” replied Burdock.
“Allow me to ask--for whom do you consider yourself concerned under the
late Joshua Kesterton's will?”
“First, for the executors; next, for your wife and yourself; and,
lastly, for Mrs. Wyburn and her husband.”
“I have the honour to be your client up to this moment, I believe.”
“Of course.”
“Then, sir, I beg to acquaint, you, in that character, that I am Tonks.”
“You don't surprise me at all,” said Burdock; “I thought as much, and
was just going to tell you so.”
“I hope I shall do myself no injury by confessing that I perceived you
were; and availed myself of the opportunity of stating the fact, in
order to obtain the benefit of your silence, and allow me to add,--your
advice.”
“Nay, nay,” replied Burdock, “I really must decline advising you.”
“Well, be it so,” said Blennerhagen; “I have sense enough to see that my
only safety is in immediate flight. I have been careless in some minute
points of my calculations, and my air-built castle topples about my
ears; but I must not be overwhelmed by its ruins.”
“Understand that I cannot assist you,” said Burdock; “understand that
most positively. Here's a clear felony;--at least, I'm afraid it would
turn out so. And you see, (it has just occurred to me,) although you're
my client under Kesterton's will, yet, as the bills have actually been
transmitted to me--”
“I have heard you say, Mr. Burdock,” interrupted Blennerhagen, “that
while you were concerned for a man, you would never act against him.”
“I admit it; but, you see, in a case of felony--”
“Allow me to go on:--without my confidential communication, you would,
at this moment, have nothing but conjecture to warrant you in calling me
Tonks.”
“I don't deny it.”
“I am under your roof, too.”
“Granted.”
“Lastly,--villain as you deem me, I am unfortunate as well as guilty. My
actions have been culpable, I confess. Money, money, has been my object:
I have been compelled to catch little fish, to bait my hooks for great
ones. The woman who calls herself Tonks (which is not my real name) has
been, unfortunately for herself, one of my victims. I wanted money, and
I scrupled not at any scheme that appeared safe, to get it:--the end
sanctified the means. I have a father, Mr. Burdock,--a greyheaded man,
who has pined in prison during three miserable years: I am the wretched
cause of his sufferings. He was convicted, in large penalties, for
offences against the revenue committed by me,--by me alone, Mr. Burdock.
I attempted to bring the onus of the offence on myself, and to relieve
him from the accusation; but justice, in this case, was blind, indeed.
My father is in his cell, sir; but, although balked in my designs at
present, yet still, while I have existence, in other scenes, in other
lands, rather,--for I'm no longer safe here,--I will wrestle with
fortune, at all hazards, until I procure a sufficient sum to effect his
release.”
“Suppose, for a change, as you have hitherto been unsuccessful, you were
to adopt some honest course,--I mean, if you escape.”
“Perhaps I may:--guilt, however, is but comparative, and--”
“Well, enough of this. What have you to say to your attempt on the
virtue of Mrs. Wyburn?”
“I was under the influence of a passion which I could not control.”
“You'll be hung as sure as you're born, if you suffer yourself to be
governed by such sophistry as you preach.”
“I hope not,” replied the Mathematician, “for it would break that old
man's heart, who has no joy to support him in his captivity but his
joy as a father in me. If I had freed him, he must not have known how I
obtained the means to do so.”
“Another reason for your being honest,” observed Burdock; “make a
beginning, and you'll find the path pleasant afterwards:--only make a
beginning.”
“I will, immediately,” replied Blennerhagen, taking several papers from
his pocket-book, and laying them open on the attorney's table: “there is
George Wyburn's letter,” added he; “and there are the bonds on which
he has been arrested.--Hush! Was not that a knock at the door of your
chambers?”
Voices were now heard in the outer office; and, in a short time,
Burdock's clerk came into the room to announce the arrival of Mrs.
Blennerhagen and Mrs. Tonks.
“My second wife, doubtless, obtained her predecessor's address this
morning,” said Blennerhagen, “and has been to fetch her. Come in and
shut the door, young man,” continued he, addressing the clerk:--“I think
I heard you close your shutters just now: how many candles have you on
your desk?”
“Only one, sir,” replied the clerk, “at this moment.”
“Oblige me by snuffing it out, apparently by accident, when you return
to your seat, and utter some exclamation when you have done it:--do not
delay.”
The clerk paused for a moment; but, as Burdock made no remark, the young
man interpreted his silence as a tacit acquiescence to Blennerhagen's
request, and withdrew. In a few seconds he gave the signal: Blennerhagen
immediately strode out, rushed across the outer office, and effected his
escape.
As soon as the clerk had procured a light, Burdock informed the ladies,
in a few words, of Blennerhagen's villanies; and then left them, weeping
in each other's arms, to go in quest of Wyburn and his wife.
Within a week, the claims on Joshua Kesterton's estate were finally
determined; and the amount proved to be so much less than either
Hassell or Burdock had anticipated, as to leave a considerable sum after
deducting the legacy. Mrs. Blennerhagen,--or, to speak more correctly,
the widow Winpennie,--not only paid poor Mrs. Tonks her full claim,
but very generously augmented Wyburn's residue, by allowing a handsome
deduction in his favour out of her ten thousand pounds. Neither of his
wives ever heard of the Mathematician again; and, to quote a facetious
entry in the old attorney's private memorandum-book,--George Wyburn was
convinced of the folly of his conduct,
He thought no more of reading Plato,
And acting like that goose, old Cato.
[Illustration: 357]
THE LITTLE BLACK PORTER.