Leaving the lady and the two gentlemen to follow whatever path the gay
and somewhat capricious elf who ruled the whims of Lady Anne Mellent
chose to dictate, we will, with the reader's good leave, stay a little
with Mr. Winkworth, to whom we have not been altogether as civil as we
might have been. We have left him alone, weary and wounded, with very
little to do, though a good deal to think about.
Now, to say truth, the fact of having a good deal to think about is
not in general a source of consolation to a sick or wounded man,
unless it be of so important and pressing a nature as to postpone
corporeal suffering or mental occupation. A general somewhat smartly
wounded may go through a battle, hardly discovering the injury he has
received; for the immense interests that press upon the mind withdraw
all attention from the body's pain; but were he to be carried to the
rear, to know nothing of what was going on, to receive no momentary
excitement, to have no engrossing object pressed upon his attention
every instant, the very pangs which would have been unfelt, in the
fiery interests of an all-important fight, would now in idleness weigh
down the very spirit which in activity would have subdued them.
Were you ever wounded, reader? I mean something, of course, more
serious than the cut of the schoolboy knife, or any of the little
ordinary accidents of civilian life. If you have, you will know that,
though sometimes for a minute or two you are hardly aware that you are
injured, yet gradually very unpleasant sensations succeed to the first
numbing effects of the wound: a burning heat, a swollen and tingling
stiffness of all the neighbouring parts, come on--a sort of horny
sensation, as if the whole flesh around were changed into an
exceedingly sensitive but cartilaginous substance. Gradually the
inflammation affects the constitution, the whole frame sympathises
with the wounded part, the stomach turns sick and weary, the head
aches, the limbs are full of lassitude. At the same time the spirit
sinks terribly, at least in ordinary cases; amusements, occupations
which we were once fond of, afford us relaxation no longer; and that
terrible symptom which doctors call precordial anxiety deprives us of
rest and tranquillity.
The latter miseries Mr. Winkworth had been spared, though he felt all
the first five or six in the catalogue. His constitution so far
sympathised with the local action that he occasionally felt sick, had
a distaste to all sorts of food, and held tea, of which he was usually
very fond, in utter abhorrence. His spirits did not flag, however, for
they were of a very active and untiring nature. They had borne him
through a good many sorrows, which he had felt very keenly, but which
he had never suffered to cast him down. Thus, with a book which he
changed as often as he found it tiresome, and with a pen and ink which
he employed not unfrequently, and with thoughts which he occupied on
subjects totally different from his own situation, he had contrived to
wear away the time between sleep and sleep, without much weariness.
When he was now once more left alone, after Lady Anne and her two
companions had departed, Mr. Winkworth sat for a few moments on the
sofa, and then rising, his left arm supported by a sling, to relieve
the wounded shoulder of the weight, walked several times up and down
the room.
"She is a very charming girl indeed," he said, or rather murmured, for
the words can hardly be said to have been spoken; "and he is a very
lucky lad. She will not be unhappy either, for I do not know a better
or a kinder disposition than his. With abundant wealth, good health,
and good tempers, there is every earthly prospect of happiness. God
will, of course, temper it, as he mercifully tempers all lots, lest
man should become self-confident. It is needful, that alloy of grief
and disappointment--as needful as the baser metal mingled with the
gold, lest it should be too soft and wear away too rapidly. It is
needful; for, if we found perfect happiness here, how terrible would
be the summons to leave it all for the untried hereafter! Yet this
business of the bankruptcy seems to have shaken him a good deal--not
for himself, that is evident; for as to his own fate he is full of
high hopes. I must try to cheer him on that score.--Well? well?"
He turned sharply round, for at that moment the door opened behind
him, and the voice of the waiter said--
"There is a lad, sir, below, who says you told him to come here, and
that you intend to make a servant of him. I should have sent him away,
but he has got a paper with your name, which he says you wrote."
"Send him up," said Mr. Winkworth, and then added, speaking to
himself, "The young man has been somewhat tardy. I must lecture him;
for diligence and attention I will have, and if he begins thus, how
will he go on?"
A moment after, Jim Brown was ushered into the room, with a
tolerable-sized bundle under his arm, wrapped up in a piece of an old
cashmere shawl. Some country boys, finding themselves for the first
time in the highly-decorated sitting-room of a London hotel, would
have gazed round at the various objects it contained, with bumpkin
amazement, and in the present instance it might have been very
excusable to do so; for, besides the ordinary ornaments of the room,
there were enormous numbers of different articles, all strange to the
boy's eyes, and of the most miscellaneous character that it is
possible to conceive. Charles Marston had more than half filled it
with things of bronze, marble, alabaster, painted canvass, and carved
oak, from France, Italy, and Greece, together with Greek and Albanian
dresses, Syrian carpets, turbans, caps, sabres, yataghans, and other
things, which would extend the catalogue down to the bottom of the
page; and Mr. Winkworth himself, though he had travelled with but
little baggage, and had not opened a tenth part of the cases which
were awaiting his arrival, had contrived to get out a number of
hookahs and long pipes, with not a few strange-looking commodities
from India, Burmah, and Ceylon.
Jim Brown, however, did nothing of the kind. That he was a rude,
uncultivated country boy I do not mean to deny; but he possessed that
peculiar characteristic which I look upon as one of the most valuable
qualities, when guided by good judgment, with which any human being
can be gifted--a quality which, in dealing with the world at large,
sooner or later overbears all the impediments which lie in the way of
success--the prejudices, the inattention, the indifference, the very
reason, in many instances, of our fellow-men; and which, in its action
upon ourselves, is no less triumphant, overbearing the most intrusive
of all our weaknesses--the thought of self. The quality he possessed
was earnestness--earnestness of purpose, earnestness of thought,
earnestness of feeling. If it could not be called the great principle
of his nature, it was at all events the great quality of his
character, and it subdued all things within him to itself.
He looked not round the room for one moment; his eyes instantly fixed
upon Mr. Winkworth, and he advanced straight towards him, his mind
bent upon one subject too resolutely to stray to any other.
The old gentleman's brow was rather cloudy when he entered, and, as we
have seen, he meditated a reproof; but he was a good deal of a
physiognomist; and as he marked the expression of the boy's
countenance, he said to himself--
"He is about to assign a reason, or make an apology, or show a motive
for his delay. Let us hear what he has to say for himself;" and he
remained silent.
"Sir, I intended to have been here before now," said the boy, when he
had come within two or three feet of the sofa. He did not know that,
according to rule, he should have staid a good deal nearer the door.
"I was afraid you would be angry; but then I thought, when you heard
why I staid, you would forgive me. You see, sir, when they took away
poor Bessy, they took all the things of hers they could find, and some
of mine too. I thought they had taken all; but when I came to put the
place in order, that I might come away here, I found a whole heap more
of her things, and a good many papers of hers, hid away under the bed.
I took them away to our parson's, to ask him to keep them for her; but
he was out, and not likely to come back, so I had my eight miles' walk
for nothing. The coach passed a little earlier than usual, and so I
missed it that day, and the next day Joshua Brown advised me to bring
on the things to you and give them into your care, and also to ask at
all the posting-houses which he and I passed, where the gentleman had
taken poor Bessy, that when I came I might know and be able to tell
you where she is, for you and the other gentleman seemed to think a
good deal about her. This kept me so long, but I hope you will forgive
me."
"Well, well--reasons sufficient," replied Mr. Winkworth. "I like
punctuality, my good lad, but I'm not altogether a hard taskmaster.
And so you have brought the poor woman's things here--have you? Are
they in that bundle?"
"Yes, sir," replied the boy, laying the things down upon the table;
"and I've got a little gold box in my pocket, too, belonging to her,
with what Joshua Brown says are diamonds on the top."
"Let me see--let me see!" said Mr. Winkworth; and the lad immediately
produced from his pocket the vinaigrette which he had previously shown
to the pedlar, and placed it in Mr. Winkworth's hands.
All fashions have their day, and pass away, sometimes giving place to
things better than themselves, sometimes to worse. Even the
workmanship in hard metal is subjected to the capricious rule, and the
fashion of gold and silver seldom lasts above two or three years. It
is very probable, however, that some of my readers may have seen
snuffboxes, lockets, and cases for miniatures--ay, or even
vinaigrettes--which displayed, on one side or the other, a tablet of
bright blue enamel, on which appeared a cipher formed of diamonds. The
top of the box now produced was thus ornamented; and Mr. Winkworth,
examining it closely, said--
"Very fine stones, indeed! 'M. M.'--what can that mean? Charles
assured me that her name was Hayley."
"So it is, sir," replied Jim; "for the gentleman who took her away
called her Miss Hayley."
"'M. M.!' I don't understand it," said Mr. Winkworth. "Now, then; let
us look at these in the bundle."
And he untied the corners, when a mass of very miscellaneous articles
displayed itself, amongst which there appeared none that could be of
any great value, except one or two packets of written papers, rolled
up in small bundles and tied with dirty pieces of ribbon. One seemed
to consist of letters which had been transmitted by the post, for on
the outer cover there was an address, with the official stamp. The
others seemed to consist of manuscripts, without any direction or
indication of the contents upon the outside, but were written very
closely, in a good, clear, masculine hand.
Mr. Winkworth paused and gazed at the papers for a moment or two, as
if in doubt and hesitation. Then, turning to the boy, he asked--
"Can you tell me what these packets contain, Jim Brown?"
"No, sir," answered the boy: "I did not open them, for I thought I had
no business."
"Right," said Mr. Winkworth; "right. Now, Jim, I should like very much
to open them, from various motives, some of which you can conceive,
and some of which you cannot. I should like to see this poor thing's
history, which is, most probably, herein written. I should like to
know what brought her to madness, destitution, and solitary wandering.
Moreover, there is a chance that, by something contained in these
papers, we might learn how her condition could be ameliorated, and who
are the relations and friends who might have a right to take care of
her in her present condition and provide for her future comfort. That
chance would afford a good excuse to many men for examining these
documents. But a man of honour and honesty, Jim, will be always very
scrupulous in satisfying himself that there is something more than an
excuse--nay, a full justification--for doing that which under ordinary
circumstances would be dishonourable. Now, the man or woman, Jim, who
would look into the private papers of another person, without full and
convincing proof that to do so is absolutely necessary for the benefit
of that person, is dishonest--is a rogue, Jim--is one unworthy of
trust or confidence. I have no such proof; and therefore I will not
examine these papers until I have, or until I am by some means
authorized to do so. Ring the bell, boy--there it hangs, by the side
of the fireplace."
Jim in vain looked for a bell, for he had never before seen a
bell-rope in his life; and he took Mr. Winkworth's words
literally, supposing that he should find a bell hanging by the
fireplace--probably something like a church bell, for that was the
instrument of sound with which he was best acquainted.
"I don't see a bell, sir," he said.
"Pshaw!" cried Mr. Winkworth, laughing: "pull the rope that's hanging
there. I forgot that you had not been long caught."
The bell was soon rung, and a sheet of large cartridge-paper procured,
in which the old gentleman made the boy fold up carefully the various
documents he had brought, as the wound in his shoulder prevented him
from doing so himself. This packing up was very neatly accomplished by
Jim; but when it came to the sealing, notwithstanding all the good
instructions of Mr. Winkworth, who stood by with a seal ready to press
upon the wax, the poor boy made a sad mess of it, and burned his
fingers awfully.
"Never mind, Jim; never mind," said Mr. Winkworth. "In my young days,
when people were in the habit of walking the bounds of the parish, the
officers used to whip one of the boys of the charity-school at every
point which might become doubtful, in order that the tail might help
the head to recollect. Now, your fingers will put you in mind of this
sealing in case of need. However, there are two or three other things
to be thought of. Have you found out where they have taken her to?"
"Yes, sir," answered the boy. "The last driver I talked to told me
that the gentleman had ordered him to go to a house with barred-up
windows.--Stay! I wrote down the name of the place on a bit of paper."
Mr. Winkworth eagerly examined the address the boy produced.
"Brooke Green," he said; "Brooke Green. That's not far. I've a great
mind to go there at once. Hang the doctors! who cares what they say?
I'll go. Ring the bell, Jim."
The bell was rung once more, and the waiter ordered to have a pair of
post-horses put immediately to Mr. Charles Marston's carriage; for Mr.
Winkworth did not stand upon any great ceremony with his young friend.
"Now take this boy down and give him something to eat," continued Mr.
Winkworth.
"Yes, sir," said the waiter.
"You're a respectable man, I think?" said the old gentleman.
"Yes, sir," said the waiter.
"With a wife and children?" asked Mr. Winkworth.
"Yes, sir," said the waiter.
"Then take care of that boy while I stay here, and see if you cannot
get him immediately, from some ready-made shop, a tidy suit of
clothes, and have him prepared to go out with me in an hour."
"Yes, sir," said the waiter.
"You may go as far as fifty rupees," said Mr. Winkworth.
"Yes, sir," still said the waiter--though, heaven knows, he knew no
more what a rupee is than Adam knew what a wife was before he fell
asleep in the garden of Eden.
Mr. Winkworth was by temperament, and still more by habit, somewhat
impatient; and on this occasion he certainly did not let the hour pass
before he rang the bell, and asked if the horses and the boy were
ready. If the truth must be told, he was apprehensive lest Charles
Marston should come in and attempt to dissuade him from going out at
all. Now, there was nothing on earth Mr. Winkworth so much disliked as
being dissuaded; for he always took his own way, and a very odd way it
generally was, so that he looked upon any attempt to dissuade him as
trouble to both parties without benefit to either. However, it turned
out that the horses were ready, but the boy was not; and he had to
wait another quarter of an hour before Jim returned with the porter,
whom the waiter had sent to guide him. The moment he arrived, Mr.
Winkworth put him in the dickey of the vehicle, told the postboy where
to drive, and got into the inside himself. Just as he was whirling
round the corner of Albermarle Street into Piccadilly, who should he
see walking soberly along, with Colonel Middleton, but his young
friend Charles Marston!--and, with a laugh at the consternation which
he saw in Charles's countenance, he shook his finger at him and
rattled on.
Brooke Green was speedily reached, and at the door of the house, which
had one of those portentous names usually given to lunatic asylums,
the carriage drew up. Here, however, some difficulties presented
themselves; for, although Mr. Winkworth and the boy were at once shown
into the master's parlour, that personage demurred to letting them see
Miss Hayley, though he did not venture to deny that she was in the
house.
Though a very odd man, Mr. Winkworth, in matters of business, was a
very sensible man; and though, as I have shown, an impatient man, yet
in difficult circumstances, strange to say, he never lost his temper.
"Well, sir," he said, "I will ask you one question: by what authority
do you detain the lady here?"
"By sufficient authority for my justification, sir," replied the
master.
"It must be sufficient for my satisfaction before I go hence," replied
Mr. Winkworth; "for I warn you I am a person never turned from my
object. My belief is, that you have no lawful authority whatever; and,
if you persist in your present course, I must take very unpleasant
means to ascertain whether you have or have not."
"What means may those be?" asked the man, drily.
"The sending for a constable," answered Mr. Winkworth, "and giving you
in charge for assault and false imprisonment."
"You will think twice before you do that, I fancy."
"No, I shall not," answered Mr. Winkworth: "I never think twice of
anything. But you may save me some trouble, and yourself some
annoyance, by answering a few very simple questions, which I have
every right to demand."
"Well, I have no objection to answer any reasonable question," said
the master, who did not like the notion of being given in charge,
though he had affected to treat it lightly.
"First, then," said Mr. Winkworth, "has the lady been seen by any
physician?"
"Not yet," replied the master of the house, "but one will visit her in
an hour or two."
"Then by whose authority do you detain her in the mean while?"
demanded the old gentleman.
After an instant's hesitation, the reply was--
"By that of Mr. Scriven, a connection of the lady."
A grim smile came upon Mr. Winkworth's yellow face.
"I am quite as near a connection of the lady as Mr. Scriven, sir," he
replied, "and I now demand to see her, without further delay. If you
accede, I shall take no further steps of any kind till she has been
visited by the medical man of whom you speak, and until he has given a
certificate as to her state. If you refuse, I must take those measures
at which I hinted."
"Oh, very well," replied the master, who had by this time made up his
mind: "if you promise me that, I will certainly admit you."
Mr. Winkworth, who right well understood the whole process which had
been going on in the man's mind, merely nodded his head with a dry
smile; and saying to the boy, "Come along, Jim," he followed the
master into the interior of the building. It was not a very large
establishment, nor had it many patients in it; but the whole bore more
or less an aspect of neatness and cleanliness, although the part which
they first passed through was very much superior in furniture and
decoration to that at which they afterwards arrived. It was in the
poorer part of the house, where patients paying very small sums were
confined, that they found poor Miss Hayley. She had a room to herself;
but the master, while unlocking the door, thought fit to explain that
they had not yet had time to put her in a ward.
Mr. Winkworth entered the room first; and the poor woman, who was
seated near the window, turned a timid glance upon him, but
immediately withdrew her eyes, not appearing to recognise him. The old
gentleman, however, advanced kindly to her, saying--
"Don't you remember me? Here is your young friend Jim, come to see
you."
Miss Hayley suddenly turned round at the name, and the moment she
beheld the boy, started up, ran towards him, and cast her arms round
his neck. The large tears fell from her eyes, too, and they seemed to
relieve her brain; for the wild, scared look with which she had at
first regarded Mr. Winkworth passed away.
"Oh, Jim!" she said, "I thought they would never let me see you again!
But come here, my dear--come here; I want to speak with you;" and
drawing the boy into the farther corner of the room, she whispered to
him eagerly for several minutes.
"He has got them all," said the boy, at length, pointing to Mr.
Winkworth: "he has sealed up the papers without reading them."
"What would you wish done with them?" asked Mr. Winkworth: "anything
you direct I will see performed."
Poor Miss Hayley, however, made no reply, giving him a doubtful
glance, and again whispering eagerly to the boy.
"Shall I tell him so?" asked Jim, after having listened attentively
for a minute or two.
"If you can trust him," replied Miss Hayley, gazing at Mr. Winkworth
with her large black eyes; "but not here--not here. Quite quietly,
where nobody can hear, and see that there's nobody listening at the
door; for he's a very cunning man, that Mr. Scriven, and a hard, cruel
man, too."
"You see, sir, she's quite mad," said the master of the house,
addressing Mr. Winkworth in a low tone. "You can have no doubt of
that, I suppose."
"I have no doubt that her reason is impaired," replied the old
gentleman; "but, at the same time, my good sir, I have many doubts as
to whether her state of mind justifies or requires her detention in a
place of this kind, and I am quite sure that it affords no excuse for
excluding her friends from seeing her."
"That must be according to the doctor's orders," replied the other. "I
have no wish to prevent people from seeing her--only Mr. Scriven
thought it might irritate her."
"Pooh! pooh!" answered Mr. Winkworth, "Mr. Scriven should know better;
and, besides, he has no authority here. He is no relation, no
connection, and has been anything but a friend to her and hers. That
she shall be well treated and comfortably lodged, I and other friends
of her family will insist upon; and I authorise you to let her have
more fitting accommodation than this room, making myself responsible
for any reasonable expense that such an alteration may entail. I do
not wish to interfere beyond a certain limit; and as long as I find
that her friends are freely admitted to her, and that she is well and
kindly treated, I shall be satisfied; but if any severe restrictions
are attempted, I shall immediately apply for a commission to inquire
into her state."
"I have not the honour even of knowing your name," rejoined the master
of the house, "and of course must be responsible to those who placed
the lady here."
"If you will come down-stairs, and furnish me with pen, ink, and
paper," replied Mr. Winkworth, "you shall have my address, and the
directions I have to give in writing, so that there can be no mistake,
and that you may be ensured against loss."
This proposal was very satisfactory to the master of the house; and
the boy Jim, being left with poor Miss Hayley at Mr. Winkworth's
request, the other two went down-stairs, and were absent for a little
more than a quarter of an hour. When they returned, it was somewhat
difficult to induce the poor old lady to part with the boy. She held
his hand in hers, and asked him to stay with her, so piteously that
Mr. Winkworth's kind heart was grieved to take him away. He promised
to send her some books, and she petitioned earnestly for paper, and
for drawing and writing materials. The master of the house, too,
promised to let her play for an hour every day upon the organ,
adding--
"You used to be very fond of music when you were here before."
"What! then this is the house in which she was confined at first?"
said Mr. Winkworth.
"To be sure, sir," answered the man. "She got out in the most cunning
way possible, and she will need a deal of watching, I can tell you, to
prevent her doing so again. Come, ma'am--you must let the boy go;"
and, drawing Jim away from her, he saw him and Mr. Winkworth out of
the room, and then locked the door.
"Come into the carriage with me, my lad," said the old gentleman, as
the boy was going to take his seat behind; and during the whole way
back to his hotel, Mr. Winkworth continued in very earnest
conversation with his young companion, which left him grave and
thoughtful for the rest of the day.