Of all the chief actors in the Bakewell Comedy, Master Ripton Thompson
awaited the fearful morning which was to decide Tom’s fate, in
dolefullest mood, and suffered the gravest mental terrors. Adrian, on
parting with him, had taken casual occasion to speak of the position of
the criminal in modern Europe, assuring him that International Treaty
now did what Universal Empire had aforetime done, and that among
Atlantic barbarians now, as among the Scythians of old, an offender
would find precarious refuge and an emissary haunting him.
In the paternal home, under the roofs of Law, and removed from the
influence of his conscienceless young chief, the staggering nature of
the act he had put his hand to, its awful felonious aspect, overwhelmed
Ripton. He saw it now for the first time. “Why, it’s next to murder!”
he cried out to his amazed soul, and wandered about the house with a
prickly skin. Thoughts of America, and commencing life afresh as an
innocent gentleman, had crossed his disordered brain. He wrote to his
friend Richard, proposing to collect disposable funds, and embark, in
case of Tom’s breaking his word, or of accidental discovery. He dared
not confide the secret to his family, as his leader had sternly
enjoined him to avoid any weakness of that kind; and, being by nature
honest and communicative, the restriction was painful, and melancholy
fell upon the boy. Mama Thompson attributed it to love.
The daughters of parchment rallied him concerning Miss Clare Forey. His
hourly letters to Raynham, and silence as to everything and everybody
there, his nervousness, and unwonted propensity to sudden inflammation
of the cheeks, were set down for sure signs of the passion. Miss
Letitia Thompson, the pretty and least parchmenty one, destined by her
Papa for the heir of Raynham, and perfectly aware of her brilliant
future, up to which she had, since Ripton’s departure, dressed and
grimaced, and studied cadences (the latter with such success, though
not yet fifteen, that she languished to her maid, and melted the small
factotum footman)—Miss Letty, whose insatiable thirst for intimations
about the young heir Ripton could not satisfy, tormented him daily in
revenge, and once, quite unconsciously, gave the lad a fearful turn;
for after dinner, when Mr. Thompson read the paper by the fire,
preparatory to sleeping at his accustomed post, and Mama Thompson and
her submissive female brood sat tasking the swift intricacies of the
needle, and emulating them with the tongue, Miss Letty stole behind
Ripton’s chair, and introduced between him and his book the Latin
initial letter, large and illuminated, of the theme she supposed to be
absorbing him, as it did herself. The unexpected vision of this
accusing Captain of the Alphabet, this resplendent and haunting A.
fronting him bodily, threw Ripton straight back in his chair, while
Guilt, with her ancient indecision what colours to assume on detection,
flew from red to white, from white to red, across his fallen chaps.
Letty laughed triumphantly. Amor, the word she had in mind, certainly
has a connection with Arson.
But the delivery of a letter into Master Ripton’s hands, furnished her
with other and likelier appearances to study. For scarce had Ripton
plunged his head into the missive than he gave way to violent
transports, such as the healthy-minded little damsel, for all her
languishing cadences, deemed she really could express were a downright
declaration to be made to her. The boy did not stop at table. Quickly
recollecting the presence of his family, he rushed to his own room. And
now the girl’s ingenuity was taxed to gain possession of that letter.
She succeeded, of course, she being a huntress with few scruples and
the game unguarded. With the eyes of amazement she read this foreign
matter:
“Dear Ripton,—If Tom had been committed I would have shot old Blaize.
Do you know my father was behind us that night when Clare saw the ghost
and heard all we said before the fire burst out. It is no use trying to
conceal anything from him. Well as you are in an awful state I will
tell you all about it. After you left Ripton I had a conversation with
Austin and he persuaded me to go down to old Blaize and ask him to help
off Tom. I went for I would have done anything for Tom after what he
said to Austin and I defied the old churl to do his worst. Then he said
if my father paid the money and nobody had tampered with his witnesses
he would not mind if Tom did get off and he had his chief witness in
called the Bantam very like his master I think and the Bantam began
winking at me tremendously as you say, and said he had sworn he saw Tom
Bakewell but not upon oath. He meant not on the Bible. He could swear
to it but not on the Bible. I burst out laughing and you should have
seen the rage old Blaize was in. It was splendid fun. Then we had a
consultation at home Austin Rady my father Uncle Algernon who has come
down to us again and your friend in prosperity and adversity R.D.F. My
father said he would go down to old Blaize and give him the word of a
gentleman we had not tampered with his witnesses and when he was gone
we were all talking and Rady says he must not see the farmer. I am as
certain as I live that it was Rady bribed the Bantam. Well I ran and
caught up my father and told him not to go in to old Blaize but I would
and eat my words and tell him the truth. He waited for me in the lane.
Never mind what passed between me and old Blaize. He made me beg and
pray of him not to press it against Tom and then to complete it he
brought in a little girl a niece of his and says to me, she’s your best
friend after all and told me to thank her. A little girl twelve years
of age. What business had she to mix herself up in my matters. Depend
upon it Ripton, wherever there is mischief there are girls I think. She
had the insolence to notice my face, and ask me not to be unhappy. I
was polite of course but I would not look at her. Well the morning came
and Tom was had up before Sir Miles Papworth. It was Sir Miles gout
gave us the time or Tom would have been had up before we could do
anything. Adrian did not want me to go but my father said I should
accompany him and held my hand all the time. I shall be careful about
getting into these scrapes again. When you have done anything
honourable you do not mind but getting among policemen and magistrates
makes you ashamed of yourself. Sir Miles was very attentive to my
father and me and dead against Tom. We sat beside him and Tom was
brought in, Sir Miles told my father that if there was one thing that
showed a low villain it was rick-burning. What do you think of that. I
looked him straight in the face and he said to me he was doing me a
service in getting Tom committed and clearing the country of such
fellows and Rady began laughing. I hate Rady. My father said his son
was not in haste to inherit and have estates of his own to watch and
Sir Miles laughed too. I thought we were discovered at first. Then they
began the examination of Tom. The Tinker was the first witness and he
proved that Tom had spoken against old Blaize and said something about
burning his rick. I wished I had stood in the lane to Bursley with him
alone. Our country lawyer we engaged for Tom cross-questioned him and
then he said he was not ready to swear to the exact words that had
passed between him and Tom. I should think not. Then came another who
swore he had seen Tom lurking about the farmer’s grounds that night.
Then came the Bantam and I saw him look at Rady. I was tremendously
excited and my father kept pressing my hand. Just fancy my being
brought to feel that a word from that fellow would make me miserable
for life and he must perjure himself to help me. That comes of giving
way to passion. My father says when we do that we are calling in the
devil as doctor. Well the Bantam was told to state what he had seen and
the moment he began Rady who was close by me began to shake and he was
laughing I knew though his face was as grave as Sir Miles. You never
heard such a rigmarole but I could not laugh. He said he thought he was
certain he had seen somebody by the rick and it was Tom Bakewell who
was the only man he knew who had a grudge against Farmer Blaize and if
the object had been a little bigger he would not mind swearing to Tom
and would swear to him for he was dead certain it was Tom only what he
saw looked smaller and it was pitch-dark at the time. He was asked what
time it was he saw the person steal away from the rick and then he
began to scratch his head and said supper-time. Then they asked what
time he had supper and he said nine o’clock by the clock and we proved
that at nine o’clock Tom was drinking in the ale-house with the Tinker
at Bursley and Sir Miles swore and said he was afraid he could not
commit Tom and when he heard that Tom looked up at me and I say he is a
noble fellow and no one shall sneer at Tom while I live. Mind that.
Well Sir Miles asked us to dine with him and Tom was safe and I am to
have him and educate him if I like for my servant and I will. And I
will give money to his mother and make her rich and he shall never
repent he knew me. I say Rip. The Bantam must have seen me. It was when
I went to stick in the lucifers. As we were all going home from Sir
Miles’s at night he has lots of red-faced daughters but I did not dance
with them though they had music and were full of fun and I did not care
to I was so delighted and almost let it out. When we left and rode home
Rady said to my father the Bantam was not such a fool as he was thought
and my father said one must be in a state of great personal exaltation
to apply that epithet to any man and Rady shut his mouth and I gave my
pony a clap of the heel for joy. I think my father suspects what Rady
did and does not approve of it. And he need not have done it after all
and might have spoilt it. I have been obliged to order him not to call
me Ricky for he stops short at Rick so that everybody knows what he
means. My dear Austin is going to South America. My pony is in capital
condition. My father is the cleverest and best man in the world. Clare
is a little better. I am quite happy. I hope we shall meet soon my dear
Old Rip and we will not get into any more tremendous scrapes will we.—I
remain, Your sworn friend,
“RICHARD DORIA FEVEREL.”
“P.S. I am to have a nice River Yacht. Good-bye, Rip. Mind you learn to
box. Mind you are not to show this to any of your friends on pain of my
displeasure.
“N.B. Lady B. was so angry when I told her that I had not come to her
before. She would do anything in the world for me. I like her next best
to my father and Austin. Good-bye old Rip.”
Poor little Letitia, after three perusals of this ingenuous epistle,
where the laws of punctuation were so disregarded, resigned it to one
of the pockets of her brother Ripton’s best jacket, deeply smitten with
the careless composer. And so ended the last act of the Bakewell
Comedy, in which the curtain closes with Sir Austin’s pointing out to
his friends the beneficial action of the System in it from beginning to
end.