“I perceive, sir,” said the stranger, seating himself at my table, “they
are desirous to restore an antiquated custom in regard to you. I thought
the day of indemnities was past and gone forever.”
“I am ignorant to what you allude.”
“The authorities would make you out an emissary of France, sir,--as if
France had not enough on her hands already, without embroiling herself
in a quarrel from which no benefit could accrue; not to speak of the
little likelihood that any one on such an errand would take up his
abode, as you have, in the most public hotel of Dublin.”
“I have no apprehensions as to any charges they may bring against me.
I am conscious of no crime, saving having left my country a boy, and
returning to it a man.”
“You were in the service of France, then?”
“Yes; since 1801 I have been a soldier.”
“So long? You must have been but a mere boy when you quitted Ireland.
How have they connected you with the troubles of that period?”
I hesitated for a second or two, uncertain what answer, if any, I
should return to this abrupt question. A glance at the manly and frank
expression of the stranger's face soon satisfied me that no unworthy
curiosity had prompted the inquiry; and I told him in a few words,
how, as a child, the opinions of the patriotic party had won me over to
embark in a cause I could neither fathom nor understand. I traced out
rapidly the few leading events of my early career down to the last
evening I spent in Ireland. When I came to this part of my story, the
stranger became unusually attentive, and more than once questioned
me respecting the origin of my quarrel with Crofts, and the timely
appearance of Darby; of whose name and character, however, I gave him no
information, merely speaking of him as an old and attached follower of
my family.
“Since that period, then, you have not been in Ireland?” said he, as I
concluded.
“Never: nor had I any intention of returning until lately, when
circumstances induced me to leave the Emperor's service; and from very
uncertainty I came back here, without well knowing why.”
“Of course, then, you have never heard the catastrophe of your adventure
with Crofts. It was a lucky hit for him.”
“How so? I don't understand you.”
“Simply this: Crofts was discovered in the morning, severely wounded,
where you left him; his account being, that he had been waylaid by a
party of rebels, who had obtained the countersign of the night, and
passed the sentry in various disguises. You yourself--for so, at least,
I surmise it must have been--were designated the prime mover of the
scheme, and a Government reward was offered for your apprehension.
Crofts was knighted, and appointed to the staff,--the reward of
his loyalty and courage; of the exact details of which my memory is
unfortunately little tenacious.”
“And the truth of the occurrence was never known?”
“What I have told you is the only version current. I have reason to
remember so much of it, for I was then, and am still, one of the legal
advisers of the Crown, and was consulted on the case; of which, I
confess, I always had my misgivings. There was a rage, however, for
rewarding loyalty, as it was termed at the period, and the story went
the round of the papers. Now, I fancy Crofts would just as soon not see
you back again; he has made all he can of the adventure, and would as
lief have it quietly forgotten.”
“But can I suffer it to rest here? Is such an imputation to lie on my
character as he would cast on me?”
“Take no steps in the matter on that score: vindication is time enough
when the attack is made directly; besides, where should you find your
witness? where is the third party who could prove your innocence, and
that all you did was in self-defence? Without his testimony, your
story would go for nothing. No, no; be well satisfied if the charge is
suffered to sleep, which is not unlikely. Crofts would scarcely like to
confess that his antagonist was little more than a child; his prowess
would gain nothing by the avowal. Besides, the world goes well with him
latterly; it is but a month ago, I think, he succeeded unexpectedly to a
large landed property.”
The stranger, whose name was M'Dougall, continued to talk for some time
longer; most kindly volunteered to advise me in the difficult position
I found myself; and having given me his address in town, wished me a
goodnight and departed.
It was to no purpose I laid my head on my pillow. Tired and fatigued
as I was, I could not sleep; the prospect of fresh troubles awaiting
me made me restless and feverish, and I longed for day to break, that
I might manfully confront whatever danger was before me, and oppose a
stout heart to the arrows of adverse fortune. My accidental meeting with
the stranger also reassured my courage; and I felt gratified to think
that such _rencontres_ in life are the sunny spots which illumine our
career in the world, the harbingers of bright days to come.
This feeling was still more strongly impressed on me as I entered the
small room on the ground-floor at the Castle, where was the secretary's
office, and beheld M'Dougall seated in an armchair, reading the
newspaper of the day. I could not help connecting his presence there
with some kindly intention towards me, and already regarded him as my
friend. Major Barton stood at the secretary's side, and whispered from
time to time in his ear.
“I have before me certain information, sir,” said the secretary,
addressing me, “that you were connected with parties who took an active
part in the late rebellion in this country, and by them sent over to
France to negotiate co-operation and assistance from that quarter,”
(Barton here whispered something, and the secretary resumed), “and in
continuance of this scheme are at present here.”
“I have only to observe, sir, that I left Ireland a mere boy, when,
whatever my opinions might have been, they were, I suspect, of small
moment to his Majesty's Government; that I have served some years in
the French army, during which period I neither corresponded with any one
here, nor had intercourse with any from Ireland; and lastly, that I have
come back unaccredited by any party, not having, as I believe, a single
acquaintance in the island.”
“Do you still hold a commission in the French service?”
“No, sir; I resigned my grade as captain some time since.”
“What were your reasons for that step?”
“They were of a purely personal nature, having no concern with politics
of any sort; I should, therefore, ask of you not to demand them. I can
only say, they reflect neither on my honor nor my loyalty.”
“His loyalty! Would you ask him, sir, how he applies the term, and to
what sovereign and what government the obedience is rendered?” said
Barton, with a half smile of malicious meaning.
“Very true, Barton; the question is most pertinent.”
“When I said loyalty, sir,” said I, in answer, “I confess I did not
express myself as clearly as I intended. I meant, however, that as an
Irishman, and a subject of his Majesty George the Third, as I now am, no
act of mine in the French service ever compromised me.”
“Why, surely you fought against the allies of your own country?”.
“True, sir. I speak only with reference to the direct interests of
England. I was the soldier of the Emperor, but never a spy under his
Government.”
“Your name is amongst those who never claimed the indemnity? How is
this?”
“I never heard of it; I never knew such an act was necessary. I am not
guilty of any crime, nor do I see any reason to seek a favor.”
“Well, well; the gracious intentions of the Crown lead us to look
leniently on the past. A moderate bail for your appearance when called
on, and your own recognizances for the same object, will suffice.”
“I am quite willing to do the latter; but as to bail, I repeat it, I
have not one I could ask for such a service.”
“No relative? no friend?”
“Come, come, young gentleman,” said M'Dougall, speaking for the first
time; “recollect yourself. Try if you can't remember some one who would
assist you at this conjuncture.”
Basset was the only name I could think of; and however absurd the idea
of a service from such a quarter, I deemed that, as my brother's agent,
he would scarce refuse me. I thought that Barton gave a very peculiar
grin as I mentioned the name; but my own securities being entered into,
and a few formal questions answered, I was told I was at liberty to seek
out the bail required.
Once more in the streets, I turned my steps towards Basset's house,
where I hoped, at all events, to learn some tidings of my brother. I
was not long in arriving at the street, and speedily recognized the old
house, whose cobwebbed windows and unwashed look reminded me of former
times. The very sound of the heavy iron knocker awoke its train of
recollections; and when the door was opened, and I saw the narrow
hall, with its cracked lamp and damp, discolored walls, the whole
heart-sinking with which they once inspired me came back again, and I
thought of Tony Basset when his very name was a thing of terror to me.
Mr. Basset, I was told, was at court, and I was shown into the office to
await his return. The gloomy little den,--I knew it well, with its dirty
shelves of dirtier papers, its old tin boxes, and its rickety desk,
at which two meanly-dressed starveling youths were busy writing. They
turned a rapid glance towards me as I entered; and as they resumed their
occupation, I could hear a muttered remark upon my dress and appearance,
the purport of which I did not catch.
I sat for some time patiently, expecting Basset's arrival, but as
the time stole by, I grew wearied with waiting, and determined on
ascertaining, if I might, from the clerks, some intelligence concerning
my brother.
“Have you any business with Mr. Burke?” said the youth I addressed,
while his features assumed an expression of vulgar jocularity.
“Yes,” was my brief reply.
“Wouldn't a letter do as well as a personal interview?” said the other,
with an air of affected courtesy.
“Perhaps so,” I replied, too deeply engaged in my own thoughts to mind
their flippant impertinence.
“Then mind you direct your letter 'Churchyard, Loughrea;' or, if you
want to be particular, say 'Family vault.'”
[Illustration: 426]
“Is he dead? Is George dead?”
“That's hard to say,” interposed the other; “but they've buried him,
that's certain.”
Like a stunning blow, the shock of this news left me unable to speak or
hear. A maze of confused thoughts crossed and jostled each other in my
brain, and I could neither collect myself nor listen to what was said
around me. My first clear memory was of a thousand little childish
traits of love which had passed between us. Tokens of affection long
forgotten now rushed freshly to my mind; and he whom a moment before I
had condemned as wanting in all brotherly feeling, I now sorrowed for
with true grief. The low and vulgar insolence of the speakers made no
impression on me; and when, in answer to my questions, they narrated
the manner of his death,--a fever contracted after some debauch at
Oxford,--I only heard the tidings, but did not notice the unfeeling tone
it was conveyed in.
My brother dead! the only one of kith or kindred belonging to me. How
slight the tie seemed but a few moments back! what would I not give for
it now? Then, for the first time, did I know how the heart can heap up
its stores of consolation in secrecy, and how unconsciously the mind can
dwell on hopes it has never confessed even to itself. How I fancied to
myself our meeting, and thought over the long pent-up affection years of
absence had accumulated, now flowing in a gushing stream from heart to
heart I The grave is indeed hallowed when the grass of the churchyard
can cover all memory save that of love. We dwell on every good gift
of the lost one, as though no unworthy thought could cross that little
mound of earth, the barrier between two worlds. Sad and sorrow-struck,
I covered my face with my hands, and did not notice that Mr. Basset had
entered, and taken his place at the desk.
His voice, every harsh tone of which I well remembered, first made me
aware of his presence. I lifted my eyes, and there he stood, little
changed indeed since I had seen him last. The hard lines about the mouth
had grown deeper, the brow more furrowed, and the hair more mixed with
gray, but in other respects he was the same. As I gazed at him I could
not help fancying that time makes less impression on men of coarse,
unfeeling mould, than on natures of a finer temper. The world's changes
leave no trace on the stern surface of the one, while they are wearing
deep tracks of sorrow in the other.
“Insert the advertisement again, Simms,” said he, addressing one of the
clerks, “and let it appear in some paper of the seaport towns. Among the
Flemish or French smugglers who frequent them, there might be some one
to give the information. They must be able to show that though Thomas
Burke--”
I started at the sound of my name. The motion surprised him; he looked
round and perceived me. Quick and piercing as his glance was, I could
not trace any sign of recognition; although, as he scanned my features,
and suffered his eyes to wander over my dress, I perceived that his was
no mere chance or cursory observation.
“Well, sir,” said he, at length, “is your business here with me?”
“Yes; but I would speak with you in private.”
“Come in here, then. Meanwhile, Sam, make out that deed; for we may go
on without the proof of demise.”
Few and vague as the words were, their real meaning flashed on me, and I
perceived that Mr. Basset was engaged in the search of some evidence of
my death, doubtless to enable the heir-at-law to succeed to the estates
of my brother. The moment the idea struck me, I felt assured of its
certainty, and at once determined on the plan I should adopt.
“You have inserted an advertisement regarding a Mr. Burke,” said I, as
soon as the door was closed, and we were alone together. “What are the
particular circumstances of which you desire proof?”
“The place, date, and manner of his death,” replied he, slowly; “for
though informed that such occurred abroad, an authentic evidence of the
fact will save some trouble. Circumstances to identify the individual
with the person we mean, of course, must be offered; showing whence he
came, his probable age, and so on. For this intelligence I am prepared
to pay liberally; at least a hundred pounds may be thought so.”
“It is a question of succession to some property, I have heard.”
“Yes; but the information is not of such moment as you may suppose,”
replied he, quickly, and with the wariness of his calling anticipating
the value I might be disposed to place on my intelligence. “We are
satisfied with the fact of the death; and even were it otherwise, the
individual most concerned is little likely to disprove the belief, his
own reasons will probably keep him from visiting Ireland.”
“Indeed!” I exclaimed, the word escaping my lips ere I could check its
utterance.
“Even so,” resumed he. “But this, of course, has no interest for you.
Your accent bespeaks you a foreigner. Have you any information to offer
on this matter?”
“Yes; if we speak of the same individual, who may have left this country
about 1800 as a boy of some fourteen years of age, and entered the
'École Polytechnique' of Paris.”
“Like enough. Continue, if you please; what became of him afterwards?”
“He joined the French service, attained the rank of captain, and then
left the army; came back to Ireland, and now, sir, stands before you.”
Mr. Basset never changed a muscle of his face as I made this
declaration. So unmoved, so stolid was his look, that for a moment or
two I believed him incredulous of my story. But this impression soon
gave way, as with his eyes bent on me he said,--
“I knew you, sir, I knew you the moment I passed you in the office
without; but it might have fared ill with you to have let my recognition
appear.”
“As how? I do not understand you.”
“My clerks there might have given information for the sake of the
reward; and once in Newgate, there was an end to all negotiation.”
“You must speak more intelligibly, sir, if you wish me to comprehend
you. I am unaware of any circumstance which should threaten me with such
a fate.”
“Have you forgotten Captain Crofts,--Montague Crofts?” said Basset, in a
low whisper, while a smile of insulting malice crossed his features.
“No; I remember him well. What of him?”
“What of him! He charges you with a capital felony,--a crime for which
the laws have little pity here, whatever your French habits may have
taught you to regard it. Yes; the attempt to assassinate an officer in
his Majesty's service, when foiled by him in an effort to seduce the
soldiery, is an offence which might have a place in your memory.”
“Can the man be base enough to make such a charge as this against me,--a
boy, as I then was?”
“You were not alone; remember that fact.”
“True; and most thankful am I for it. There is one, at least, can prove
my innocence, if I can but discover him.”
“You will find that a matter of some difficulty. Your worthy friend and
early preceptor was transported five years since.”
“Poor fellow! I could better bear to hear that he was dead.”
“There are many of your opinion on that head,” said Basset, with a
savage grin. “But the fellow was too cunning for all the lawyers, and
his conviction at last was only effected by a stratagem.”
“A stratagem!” exclaimed I, in amazement.
“It was neither more nor less. Darby was arraigned four several times,
but always acquitted. Now it was defective evidence; now a lenient jury;
now an informal indictment: but so was it, he escaped the meshes of the
law, though every one knew him guilty of a hundred offences. At last
Major Barton resolved on another expedient. Darby was arrested in Ennis;
thrown into jail; kept four weeks in a dark cell, on prison fare; and at
the end, one morning the hangman appeared to say his hour was come, and
that the warrant for his execution had arrived. It was to take place,
without judge or jury, within the four walls of the jail. The scheme
succeeded; his courage fell, and he offered, if his life was spared, to
plead guilty to any transportable felony for which the grand Jury would
send up true bills. He did so, and was then undergoing the sentence.”
“Great heavens! and can such iniquity be tolerated in a land where men
call themselves Christians?” exclaimed I, as I heard this to the end.
“Iniquity!” repeated he, in mockery; “to rid the country of a ruffian,
stained with every crime,--a fellow mixed up in every outrage in the
land? Is this your notion of iniquity? Not so do I reckon it. And if I
have told you of it now, it is that you may learn that when loyal
and well-affected men are trusted with the execution of the laws, the
principle of justice is of more moment than the nice distinction of
legal subtleties. You may learn a lesson from it worth acquiring.”
“I! how can it affect me or my fortunes?”
“More nearly than you think. I have told you of the accusation which
hangs over your head; weigh it well, and deliberate what are your
chances of escape. We must not waste time in discussing your innocence.
The jury who will try the cause will be more difficult of belief than
you suspect; neither the opinions you are charged with, your subsequent
escape, nor your career in France, will contribute to your exculpation,
even had you evidence to adduce in your favor. But you have not; your
only witness is equally removed as by death itself. On what do you
depend, then? Conscious innocence! Nine out of every ten who mount the
scaffold proclaim the same; but I never heard that the voice that cried
it stifled the word 'guilty.' No, sir; I tell you solemnly, you will be
condemned!”
The tone of his voice as he spoke the last few words made my very blood
run cold. The death of a soldier on the field of battle had no terrors
for me; but the execrated fate of a felon I could not confront. The
pallor of my cheek, the trembling of my limbs, must have betrayed my
emotion; for even Basset seemed to pity me, and pressed me down into a
chair.
“There is one way, however, to avoid all the danger,” said he, after
a pause; “an easy and a certain way both. You have heard of the
advertisements for information respecting your death, which it was
surmised had occurred abroad. Now you are unknown here,--without a
single acquaintance to recognize or remember you; why should not you,
under another name, come forward with these proofs? By so doing, you
secure your own escape and can claim the reward.”
“What! perjure myself that I may forfeit my inheritance!”
“As to the inheritance,” said he, sneeringly, “your tenure does not
promise a very long enjoyment of it.”
“Were it but a day,--an hour!” exclaimed I, passionately; “I will make
no compromise with my honor. On their own heads be it who sentence an
innocent man to death; better such, even on a scaffold, than a life of
ignominy and vain regret.”
“The dark hours of a jail change men's sentiments wonderfully,” said
he, slowly. “I have known some who faced death in its wildest and most
appalling shape, shrink from it like cowards when it came in the guise
of a common executioner. Come, sir, be advised by me; reflect at least
on what I have said, and if there be any path in life where a moderate
sum may assist you--”
“Peace, sir! I beg of you to be silent. It may be that your counsel is
prompted by kindly feeling towards me; but if you would have me think
so, say no more of this,--my mind is made up.”
“Wait until to-morrow, in any case; perhaps some other plan may suggest
itself. What say you to America? Have you any objection to go there?”
“Had you asked me the question an hour since, I had replied, 'None
whatever.' Now it is different; my departure would be like the flight of
a guilty man. I cannot do it.”
“Better the flight than the fate of one,” muttered Basset between his
teeth, while at the same instant the sound of voices talking loudly
together was heard in the hall without.
“Think again, before it is too late. Remember what I have told you. Your
opinions, your career, your associates, are not such as to recommend you
to the favorable consideration of a jury. Is your case strong enough to
oppose all these? Sir Montague will make liberal terms; he has no desire
to expose the calamities of a family.”
“Sir Montague!--of whom do you speak?”
“Sir Montague Crofts,” said Basset, reddening, for he had unwittingly
suffered the name to escape his lips. “Are you ignorant that he is
your relative? a distant one, it is true, but your nearest of kin
notwithstanding.”
“And the heir to the estate?” said I, suddenly, as anew light flashed on
my mind; “the heir, in the event of my life lapsing?”
Basset nodded an assent.
“You played a deep game, sir,” said I, drawing a long breath; “but you
never were near winning it.”
“Nor you either,” said he, throwing wide the door between the two rooms;
“I hear a voice without there, that settles the question forever.”
At the same instant, Major Barton entered, followed by two men.
“I suspected I should find you here, sir,” said he, addressing me. “You
need scarcely trouble my worthy friend for his bail; I arrest you now
under a warrant of felony.”
“A felony!” exclaimed Basset, with a counterfeited astonishment in his
look. “Mr. Burke accused of such a crime!”
I could not utter a word; indignation and shame overpowered me, and
merely motioning with my hand that I was ready to accompany him, I
followed to the door, at which a carriage was standing, getting into
which we drove towards Newgate.