On reaching Brookleigh Hall, Lamh Laudher found the strange woman, Nell
M'Collum, Connor's servant maid, and the carman awaiting his arrival.
The magistrate looked keenly at the prisoner, and immediately glanced
with an expression of strong disgust at Nell M'Collum. The other female
surveyed Lamh Laudher with an interest evidently deep; after which
she whispered something to Nell, who frowned and shook her head, as if
dissenting from what she had heard. Lamh Laudher, on his part surveyed
the features of the female with an earnestness that seemed to absorb all
sense of his own disgrace and danger.
“O'Rorke,” said the magistrate, “this is a serious charge against you. I
trust you may be able effectually to meet it.”
“I must wait, your worship, till I hear fully what it is first,” replied
Lamh Laudher, “afther that I'm not afraid of clearin' myself from it.”
The woman then detailed the circumstances of the robbery, which it
appeared took place at the moment her luggage was in the act of being
removed to her room, after which she added, rather unexpectedly--“And
now your worship, I have plainly stated the facts; but I must, in
conscience, add, that although this woman,” turning to Nell M'Collum,
“is of opinion that the young man before you has robbed me, yet I cannot
think he did.”
“I'll swear, your worship,” said Nell, “that on passin' homewards last
night, seein' a car wid people about it, at Luke Connor's door, I stood
behind the porch, merely to thry if I knew who they wor. I seen this
Lamh Laudher wid a small oak box in his hands, an' I'll give my oath
that it was open, an' that he put his hands into it, and tuck something
out.”
“Pray, Nell, how did it happen that you yourself were abroad at so
unseasonable an hour?” said the magistrate.
“Every one knows that I'm out at quare hours,” replied Nell; “I'm not
like others. I know where I ought to be, at all times; but last night,
if your worship wishes to hear the truth, I was on my way to Andy
Murray's wake, the poor lad that was shepherd to the Neils.”
“And pray, Nell,” said his worship, “how did you form so sudden an
acquaintance with this respectable looking woman?”
“I knew her for years,” said Nell; “I've seen her in other parts of the
country often.”
“You were more than an hour with her last night--were you not?” said his
worship.
“She made me stay wid her,” said Nell, “bekase she was a stranger, an'
of coorse was glad to see a face she know, afther the fright she got.”
“All very natural, Nell; but in the mean time, she might easily have
chosen a more respectable associate. Have you actually lost the sum of
six hundred pounds, my good madam?”
“I have positively lost so much,” replied the woman, “together with the
certificate of my marriage.”
“And how did you become acquainted with Nell M'Collum?” he inquired.
The stranger was silent, and blushed deeply at this question; but Nell,
with more presence of mind, went over to the magistrate, and whispered
something which caused him to start, look keenly at her, and then at the
plaintiff.
“I must have this confirmed by herself” he said in reply to Nell's
disclosure, “otherwise I shall be much more inclined to consider you the
thief than O'Rorke, whose character has been hitherto unimpeachable and
above suspicion.”
He then beckoned the woman over to his desk, and after having first
inquired if she could write, and being replied to in the affirmative,
he placed a slip of paper before her, on which was written--“Is that
unhappy woman called Nell M'Collum, your mother?”
“Alas! she is, sir,” replied the female, with a deep expression
of sorrow. The magistrate then appeared satisfied. “Now,” said he,
addressing O'Rorke, “state, fairly and honestly what you have to say in
reply to the charge brought against you.”
“Please your worship,” said the young man, “you hear the woman say that
she brings no charge against me; but I can prove on oath, that Nell
M'Collum and her niece, Nanse M'Collum, along with two men that I don't
know, except that one was called Rody, met at Franklin's gate, with an
intention of robing, an' it's my firm belief, of murdering this woman.”
He then detailed with great earnestness the incidents and conversation
of the preceding night.
“Sir,” replied Nell, with astonishing promptness, “I can prove by two
witnesses, that, no longer ago than last night, he said he would take to
the high-road, in ordher to get money to enable him to marry Ellen Neil.
Yes, you villain, Nanse M'Collum heard every word that passed between
you and her in the grassy quarry; an' Ellen, your worship, can prove it
too, if she's sent for.”
This had little effect on the magistrate, who at no time placed any
reliance on Nell's assertions; he immediately, however, dispatched a
summons for Nanse M'Collum.
The carman then related all that he knew, every word of which strongly
corroborated what Lamh Laudher had said. He concluded by declaring it
to be his opinion, that the prisoner was innocent, and added, that,
according to the best of his belief, the box was not open when he left
it in the plaintiff's sleeping-room above stairs.
The magistrate again looked keenly and suspiciously towards Nell. At
this stage of the proceedings, O'Rorke's father and mother, accompanied
by some of their friends, made their appearance. The old man, however,
declined to take any part in the vindication of his son. He stood
sullenly silent, with his arms folded and his brows knit, as much in
indignation as in sorrow. The grief of the mother was louder, for she
wept audibly.
Ere the lapse of many minutes, the constable returned, and stated that
Nanse was not be found.
“She has not been at her master's house since morning,” he observed,
“and they don't know where she is, or what has become of her.”
The magistrate immediately despatched two of the constables, with strict
injunctions! to secure her, if possible.
“In the mean time,” he added, “I will order you, Nell M'Collum, to be
strictly confined, until I ascertain whether she can be produced or not.
Your haunts may be searched with some hope of success, while you are in
durance; but I rather think we might seek for her in vain, if you were
at liberty to regulate her motions. I cannot expect,” he added, turning
to the stranger, “that you should prosecute one so nearly related to
you, even if you had proof, which you have not; but I am almost certain,
that she has been someway or other concerned in the robbery. You are a
modest, interesting woman, and I regret the loss you have sustained. At
present there are no grounds for committing any of the parties charged
with the robbery. This unhappy woman I commit only as a vagrant, until
her niece is found, after that we shall probably be able to see somewhat
farther into this strange affair.”
“Something tells' me, sir,” replied the stranger, “that this young man
is as innocent of the robbery as the child unborn. It's not my intention
ever to think of prosecuting him. What I have done in the matter was
against my own wishes.”
“God in heaven bless you for the words!” exclaimed the parents of
O'Rorke, each pressing her hand with delight and gratitude. The woman
warmly returned their greetings, but instantly felt her bosom heave
with a hysterical oppression under which she sank into a state of
insensibility. Lamh Laudher More and his wife were proceeding to bring
her towards the door for air, when Nell M'Collum insisted on a prior
right to render her that service. “Begone, you servant of the devil,”
exclaimed the old man, “your wicked breath is bad about any one else;
you won!t lay a hand upon her.”
“Don't let her, for heaven's sake!” said his wife; “her eye will kill the
woman!”
“You are not aware,” said the magistrate, “that this woman is her
daughter?”
“Whose daughter, please your honor,” said the old man indignantly.
“Nell M'Collum's,” he returned.
“It's as false as hell!” rejoined O'Rorke, “beggin' your honor's pardon
for sayin' so. I mean it's false for Nell, if she says it. Nell, sir,
never had a daughter, an' she knows that; but she had a son, an' she
knows best what became of him.”
Nell, however, resolved not to be deterred from getting-the stranger
into her own hands. With astonishing strength and fury she attempted to
drag the insensible creature from O'Rorke's grasp; but the magistrate,
disgusted at her violence, ordered two of the persons present to hold
her down.
At length the woman began to recover.
She sobbed aloud, and a copious flow of tears drenched her cheeks. Nell
ordered her to tear herself from O'Rorke and his wife:-- “Their hands
are bad about you,” she exclaimed, “and their son has robbed you, Mary.
Lave them, I say, or it will be worse for you.”
The woman paid her no attention; on the contrary, she laid her head on
the bosom of O'Rorke's wife, and wept as if her heart would break.
“God help me!” she exclaimed with a bitter sense of her situation, “I am
an unhappy, an' a heart-broken woman! For many a year I have not known
what it is to have a friendly breast to weep on.”
She then caught O'Rorke's hand and kissed it affectionately, after which
she wept afresh;
“Merciful heaven!” said she'--“oh, how will I ever be able to meet my
husband! and such a husband! oh, heavens pity me!”
Both O'Rorke and his wife stood over her in tears. The latter bent her
head, kissed the stranger, and pressed her to her bosom. “May God bless
you!” said O'Rorke himself solemnly; “trust in Him, for he can see
justice done to you when man fails.”
The eyes of Nell glared at the group like those of an enraged tigress:
she stamped her feet upon the floor, and struck it repeatedly with her
stick, as she was in the habit of doing, when moved by strong and deadly
passions.
“You'll suffer for that, Mary,” she exclaimed; “and as for you, Lamh
Laudher More, my debt's not paid to you yet. Your son's a robber, an
I'll prove it before long; every one knows he's a coward too.”
Mr. Brookleigh felt that there appeared to be something connected with
the transactions of the preceding night, as well as with some of the
persons who had come before him, that perplexed him not a little. He
thought that, considering the serious nature of the charge preferred
against young O'Rorke, he exhibited an apathy under it, that did not
altogether argue innocence. Some unsettled suspicions entered his mind,
but not with sufficient force to fix with certainty upon any of those
present, except Nell and Nanse M'Collum who had absconded. If Nell
were the woman's mother, her anxiety to bring the criminal to justice
appeared very natural. Then, again, young O'Rorke's father, who seemed
to know the history of Nell M'Collum, denied that she ever had a
daughter. How could he be certain that she had not, without knowing her
private life thoroughly? These circumstances appeared rather strange, if
not altogether incomprehensible; so much so, indeed, that he thought
it necessary, before they separated, to speak with O'Rorke's family in
private. Having expressed a wish to this effect, he dismissed the
other parties, except Nell, whom he intended to keep confined until the
discovery of her niece.
“Pray,” said he to the father of our humble hero, “how do you know,
O'Rorke, that Nell M'Collum never had a daughter?”
“Right well, your honor. I knew her since she was a child; an' from that
day to this she was never six months from this town at a time. No, no--a
son she had, but a daughter she never had.”
“Let me ask you, young man, on what business were you abroad last night?
I expect you will answer me candidly?”
“It's no matther,” replied young Lamh Laudher gloomily, “my character's
gone. I cannot be worse, an' I will tell no man how I spent it, till I
have an opportunity of clarin' myself.”
“If you spent it innocently,” returned the magistrate, “you can have no
hesitation in making the disclosure we require.”
“I will not mention it,” said the other; “I was disgraced, an' that is
enough. I think but little of the robbery.”
Brookleigh understood him; but the last assertion, though it exonerated
him in the opinion of a man who knew something about character, went far
in that of his friends who were present to establish his guilt.
They then withdrew; and it would have been much to young Lamh Laudher's
advantage if this private interview had never taken place.