THE COMMITTEE OF REFERENCE.
THE Committee had appointed the second week in January for their
adjourned meeting. The first session was to be on Tuesday at ten
o'clock. The Bishop had met Mr. Washburn by appointment at his office,
and had told him that if he had changed his mind, and would like the
counsel of a lawyer in regard to any point, or to make a statement of
his case, Mr. Temple would be glad to act for him. He explained that
since Mr. Washburn's illness, this gentleman had become a staunch
friend—that if the Rector would give him an opportunity to show his
full confidence in the honesty and ability displayed in the management
of the Society, he would be very grateful.
In return, the Rector had promised if he needed any aid to call upon
Mr. Temple, but added with a smile, "I do not want legal advisers to
help me cover up any acts of mine. I need all the aid I can get to go
to the bottom of this difficulty, and bring the hidden things to light.
In regard to the final result, I feel as sure as that God's promises
are true, that He will bring me forth and set my feet in a large place."
The Bishop placed his hand on the Rector's shoulder, saying, "You are a
happy man. Blessed are all they that put their trust in Him."
The Sunday previous to the trial, the Rector preached in the city near
by, and Mrs. Washburn accompanied him, intending to return home on
Sunday evening. Mrs. Hall, the friend wish whom they stopped, begged
permission to accompany Mrs. Washburn to the room where the trial was
to take place. She also insisted that the whole family should take
their dinners with her, as there was to be a morning and afternoon
session.
The same Sunday the Rector's family had taken their seats in their own
slip, when, happening to glance toward a side pew, Emily met the eyes
of the member from Michigan fixed full upon her. Her surprise was so
great that the blood flew into her cheeks, and her heart beat so fast
that she could scarcely breathe.
In a moment, Marion and Ruth recognized him, and bowed.
Josey, who was next his sister Emily, touched her and whispered, "There
is Mr. Lawrence. I'm going to speak to him after service. I'm very well
acquainted with him."
It was in vain Emily resolved not to turn her eyes in that direction.
There is a kind of fascination when one feels that the eyes of another
are fastened on them, and her disobedient orbs continually wandered in
the direction of Mr. Lawrence.
When the hymn was given out, Joseph noticed that the gentleman had no
book, and instantly, without being told, stepped across the aisle to
pass him one. When the service was concluded, Mr. Lawrence joined them,
shook hands cordially with Marion, who then introduced her sister.
Emily knew that she was blushing furiously, and the consciousness of
this, and the vexation she felt that he should witness her confusion,
rendered her unable to explain that she had met him before.
When out of the church, Marion went forward, and the gentleman, with
only a glance behind, joined her, leaving Emily with Ruth. Josey had
seized Mr. Lawrence's hand, and was begging him to go home with them to
dinner.
He declined, however, but said he should be happy to come in after the
next service and hear them sing. He walked quite to their own gate, and
then left them with a bow.
Emily rushed up to her chamber, thankful that she could be alone and
collect her thoughts.
"Yes," she soliloquized, sitting on the side of the bed, without
waiting to remove her outer garments, "Congress is in session, but he
has heard of papa's trial, and has come on to be present. I wonder
whether he has heard about Barnes Bailey's ridiculous proposition. I
suppose Judge Wilson must have told him. How foolish in me to receive
him as a stranger. I wish I could be as much at ease as Marion is. He
evidently likes her very much, and he told Judge Wilson he thought her
handsome."
She sighed, and then proceeded to take off her hat, at the same time
resolving the first time his name was mentioned, to tell Marion that
she had seen him in U—.
This she did while her back was turned, so as to hide the tell-tale
blushes. Emily was laying the table for lunch, when she said in as
careless a tone as possible,—
"Do you remember in my letters, I wrote you of a dear friend, Cecilia
Lawrence. This is her brother. I met him at Judge Wilson's."
"Oh, did you?" replied her sister, looking up from her work. "How funny
that I introduced you then. But perhaps he didn't recollect it, meeting
you so far away. I think he's an elegant man."
Emily made no reply, but having finished her task, took a book and
seated herself to read.
Soon after tea, a sudden and rather peremptory ring at the door-bell,
made poor Emily almost jump from her chair. It was Mr. Lawrence, who
apologized for coming so early, by saying that he found it very lonely
being by himself at a strange boarding-house.
"Father and mother will be here soon," urged Marion, "and I'm confident
they will not allow you to return there."
Emily said nothing. Indeed, in Mr. Lawrence's presence, she could not
resist a return of the old feeling that, for some reason, he disliked
her; for except meeting his eyes fixed upon her in the old grave way,
he took little notice of her presence. While with Marion, he was as
familiar as though he had known her all his life.
At an early hour, Mr. and Mrs. Washburn returned, and the evening was
passed in conversation suited to the day, ending with sacred music and
family worship.
When the visitor rose to go after having declined Mrs. Washburn's
cordial invitation to spend the night, he remarked that this was one of
the occasions which left pleasant memories to be carried through life.
He promised to dine with them the next day, as he wished to see Mrs.
Washburn before her husband's trial, and then left with a shake of the
hand all around. When he took Emily's hand, he grasped it so tightly
that the pressure was painful, and he bent over her as though he were
going to speak, but did not.
The next day he had a long conversation with Mrs. Washburn, while the
Rector had gone to the city to make some final arrangements for the
coming trial. He told her that having business in the city, he should
endeavor to be present at the trial, and inquired what member of the
Committee he could consult if he wished to ask any question. She
unhesitatingly referred him to Mr. Temple.
Before he left, he turned abruptly to Emily, and inquired whether she
had heard from her old admirer, Judge Wilson, of late.
"Yes, sir," she replied. "I had a long, kind letter from his wife, in
which he sent many messages."
She smiled as she recalled one message, which was that if she did not
bid that man Bailey to keep his hands off, he, the Judge, would send
him to prison.
She had indeed, the very day after meeting the clerk at the office,
written him a brief answer to his proposition, in which she assured
him that nothing on earth would ever induce her to accede to his
wishes,—that she trusted the defence of her father to One who was well
able to bring all hidden things to light.
The day of the trial came at last. It had been decided that for greater
convenience, it should take place in the Episcopal rooms, and chairs
had been set around for the Committee, with the Bishop in his official
robes at the head. There was a long table piled with books,—the canons
of the church—books of common law, and the large leather books in which
the Treasurer had kept his accounts.
Opposite the Committee, an arm-chair had been placed for the Rector,
and behind him about a dozen chairs which were at once occupied by
Mrs. Washburn and her two elder daughters, together with Mr. and Mrs.
Hall, and a select number of friends who had obtained permission to be
present. Other than these, the trial was to be held with closed doors.
One request Mr. Lawrence had made of Mrs. Washburn in the interview
referred to. This was that she would get her husband to order his clerk
to be present.
This she did in the following way.
"There ought to be some one," she suggested, "to send on an errand, if
you wish a messenger."
"That will not be necessary," he replied, interrupting her. "I have
already told Mr. Bailey to be there. He can do every thing of that
kind."
One thing Mr. Lawrence did, of which he made no mention. He hired a
policeman to remain near the door, and to keep this man in sight. Also,
he directed that until the trial closed, the clerk should not be lost
sight of by day or night.
At the very minute that the Bishop called the meeting to order, Mr.
Lawrence sat down directly behind Emily, in a chair he had before moved
to that position.
The Bishop made some brief remarks upon the solemn business before
them: and then read a prayer, at the end of which, he added some
extempore petitions suited to the case in hand.
I do not propose to weary my readers with a detailed account of the
transactions of the day. I will simply state that a gentleman by the
name of Rogers opened the case, after which, Mr. Washburn having
previously requested the Bishop to call upon him, rose to say a few
words.
He stated the length of time he had been employed by the Missionary
Association, the number of times he had presented the cause before
different parishes, and in round numbers the sum total that had been
contributed toward its funds. He referred briefly to his health, and
the peculiar symptoms he could only describe by calling it confusion of
ideas.
"It is a sad fact," he added, "that the accounts during those very
months when I was thus disabled, do not balance, but that several
thousands of dollars appear to be due from me to the Society. I have
endeavored to the best of my ability, to account for this discrepancy,
but so far in vain, and I now call upon you, gentlemen of the
Committee, to give me your aid in solving the mystery. The books of
the Society's accounts, the files of receipted bills, together with my
own memorandum book, and my wife's book of home expenses for the time
since I have been Treasurer, I now place in your hands. The more rigid
you are in your investigations, the greater will be my gratitude. I
now leave myself in your hands, and may God succeed your endeavors to
ascertain the whole truth."
It was a tedious business going through the accounts, and comparing the
moneys paid out with the receipted bills. When the hour for adjournment
till the afternoon session came, little had been accomplished, but one
fact called special attention. So far, that is during the first six
months of Mr. Washburn's connection with the Society, the accounts
balanced to a cent.
The intermission was an hour and a half. Emily alone was aware that it
was by her means that Mr. Lawrence had been induced by Judge Wilson to
be present at the trial. She was sure also that it must be at great
inconvenience to himself, and she felt that she in particular owed him
common civility. But resolve and re-resolve as she would, while the
Committee were engaged in their work, she could not summon courage to
speak to him. All she could do was to ask her mother whether it would
not be well to give Mrs. Hall a hint that this gentleman had come from
a distance, and solely for their benefit. The consequence of this hint
was that before they left the room, Mr. Hall invited the stranger to
accompany Mr. Washburn's family to his house for dinner.
This time, he glanced at Emily, who was, however, so much engaged in
pulling on her glove that she did not look toward him, but Marion
touched his arm, and insisted that he should accept.
More than this, she insisted that they should all feel better for some
exercise after sitting so quiet, and ascertaining that dinner would not
be served for three-quarters of an hour, she proposed that he should
accompany her and her sister in a walk around the park.
There was one allusion made by Mr. Lawrence, just as they reached
the steps to Mr. Hall's door, which quite spoiled Emily's pleasure
in the otherwise delightful walk. He had at first talked to her
of Cecilia,—said he was really afraid to tell her he had been in
Canterbury, so dreadful would be her indignation at his not inviting
her to accompany him.
Then Marion sought to draw from him what he intended to do at the close
of the trial, in case they ascertained nothing concerning the missing
money.
"Shall you make a speech?" she urged, laughing. "Why don't you make it
at once? Please do."
"No, Miss Marion," he answered, gravely, as they were ascending the
steps, "I cannot consent to do so, even to oblige you. I lost my case
once—the most important case of my life, by being too precipitate. It
was a serious lesson, but it will be a lasting one."
Emily happened to be looking at him, and for an instant found it
impossible to withdraw her gaze, so earnestly were his deep set eyes
fastened on hers.
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