"This room is only one storey from the ground, and escape is possible."
"Escape! No, no! The windows are barred with iron, besides, if I escape,
it looks like guilt, and I cannot bear that."
"But will staying behind prove your innocence? Will your suffering the
last penalty of the law convince the world that you did not commit the
murder?"
"True--very true! If I live, my innocence may yet be proved. But how to
get through the window?"
"That can be easily managed, if you will act like a man. It is now
early. I will be with you again before the prison shuts. Remember, not
one word to your mother. You may console her by saying that your
agent--for such I am--has given you hopes. Nothing more. Remember!" So
saying, he departed, leaving Tom to meditate upon this extraordinary
expedient.
It was rather late when the stranger, who called himself Mortlake,
returned. Tom had kept his promise, and, by affording his mother hopes
of an acquittal, contrived to infuse a happiness to which her bosom had
been for many a week a stranger.
"Now, Tom!" said Mr Mortlake, in a low tone, "attend to me. I have
brought you a file, some aquafortis, and a silken ladder. Apply the
liquid to the bars, and it will gradually eat into the iron--then use
your file, and the first impediment to your flight will be removed. Next
fix the silken ladder firmly, and your descent is easy. Do not begin
your operations until the inmates of the jail are asleep. You may get
everything ready by the evening of the day after the morrow. As the
clock strikes twelve, assistance will be at hand, and descend with the
first stroke, if all is right. Some one will be waiting for you. He will
whisper into your ear 'follow,' and you must follow as speedily as
possible. But, again, I caution you to keep this a secret from your
mother. Buoy her up with hopes; talk confidently of your acquittal; that
you are to have a learned barrister from Edinburgh. This will get wind,
and prevent any suspicion of your intended escape. Once safe, your
mother will receive due notice; and be assured she shall not be allowed
to suffer one moment more of suspense than is absolutely necessary. You
will not see me again in prison, I hope."
Tom's feelings were overcome. He seized Mortlake's hand, and pressed it
to his lips, while tears flowed in torrents from his eyes. He could not
speak.
Mortlake was affected. "And yet, poor kind-hearted boy," he said,
"people could deem you guilty of a murder. How little did they know you!
But away with tears. Be a man. You have a difficult part before you. See
you flinch not!" Then changing his tone, and speaking loudly, "Well! I'm
off to Edinburgh, where I shall see Andrew Crosbie. I have great faith
in him; and, as he is not a greedy man, I daresay, Tom, I may get him to
come here."
At this moment the jailer entered, saying it was time to leave; and
Mortlake, pressing Tom's hand, bade him farewell, until his return from
Edinburgh.
Tom treasured every word in his heart--not one syllable escaped his
lips, that might induce the most suspicious person to imagine he
contemplated flight. He spoke sensibly of his case; inducing his mother,
and one or two persons whom curiosity had prompted to visit him, to
suppose that he was very sanguine of acquittal; and, as the fame of
Andrew Crosbie extended over Scotland as a shrewd man and an able
lawyer, this result was not thought by any means chimerical.
When the evening came, Tom commenced operations. He applied the liquid
as directed, which soon corroded the iron at the bottom. The sides and
tops were more difficult, but their partial destruction was in time
accomplished; and, when the eventful evening came, he had little
difficulty in removing the grating. It was, of course, only injured at
the ends; and, as the window was oblong, by altering the position of the
grating, he obtained a substance sufficiently strong to which he
attached the rope-ladder. Getting up to the window, he placed the
grating reversed in the inside, and threw the ladder on the outside. To
soften the fall of the iron after he had descended, he placed his
mattress and bedclothes below; and having thus made every preliminary
arrangement, with the first stroke of twelve he commenced his descent;
and, ere the last had died upon the breeze, the ground was reached in
safety.
A figure, enveloped in a cloak, approached hurriedly, and whispered,
"follow!" He tossed a bundle to the fugitive, then turned to the left.
The order was obeyed; and, after the lapse of an hour and a-half, Tom
found himself in a wood, and the stranger, opening a dark
lantern--sliding shades at the side of which had previously been pulled
down--disclosed to the eyes of Vallance the features of his agent,
Mortlake.
The bundle was untied, and Tom found it to contain a capacious wrapper,
a shawl, and bonnet with a veil. Those Tom was required to put on, and
this matter being accomplished, the journey was resumed, and in about
two hours they arrived at a small hamlet or village, where they found a
gig waiting for them. Mortlake then addressed his companion:--"My dear
Emily! be more composed--never mind your father--I will write to him,
and all will yet be put to rights."
Tom, who had been previously instructed, spoke "small like a woman;"
and, after some affected coyness, entered the carriage, when the parties
drove off, leaving the man who had taken charge of the vehicle under the
evident conviction that the strange man was a sad blackguard, and that
the veiled lady was some unfortunate young woman who had been deluded
away by his devices.
The news of Tom's escape excited universal astonishment, and no means
were left untried to trace his footsteps; but every exertion was in
vain, and his pursuers were completely at fault. It was universally
admitted that some one must have furnished him with the implements that
had procured his liberation; and his mother was, as a matter of course,
the first one on whom suspicion lighted. The poor old woman, when the
fact was announced, was equally amazed and pleased; but she could
furnish no clue. Tom had seen a few people in prison, yet it was evident
they had nothing to do with the escape. It was at last resolved that the
agent was the accessory; but here the good people were at fault again,
for no one, except the jailer, remembered having seen him, and he could
give but a very imperfect description of him. He might be tall or
so--rather think he was, but not sure--wore powder, and had, he
believes, a black coat, but did not think he would know him again. This
was all that could be elicited.
A reward of fifty pounds was offered by the magistrates for the capture
of Tom; and Sir Edward Bruce Vavasour increased it to one hundred and
fifty, expressing, at the same time, his anxiety that the accused should
be retaken.
Whilst all were in a state of excitement, fresh fuel was added to the
flame by the following letter, bearing the Liverpool post-mark, which
Mrs Vallance received from her son:--
"DEAREST MOTHER,--I am well, and as happy as one unjustly
accused can be. Though fate has sundered us, you are ever in my
thoughts. I have found a protector--fear not for me. You shall
regularly hear from
"Your affectionate son," &c.
Beneath was written:--"Your son will be yet a blessing to you. Accept
this trifle." And a twenty-pound-note was found enclosed.
"What a fool!" said the wise ones; "only to think of letting us know
where he is." And, upon the hint, away trotted the officers with a
criminal warrant, to be backed, as it is termed, by an English Justice
in Liverpool, where, to their great vexation, he was not to be found.
Meanwhile, the object of their pursuit was out of all danger. His friend
and he at last found themselves on the road to Wooler.
"Tom!" said Mortlake, when they alighted at the inn, "you must pass for
my wife. I have everything provided for that purpose in my portmanteau;
meanwhile, keep down your veil, and wrap your cloak about you."
He then took out a complete suit of female apparel, and speedily his
protege was metamorphosed into a tall and handsome, although somewhat
masculine, female. We need not tire our readers with a detail of the
subsequent journey southward, and may only mention that Mortlake left
the horse and gig at Wooler, where, obtaining a seat for himself and his
companion in the mail, they arrived in safety at Barnet. Here Tom
resumed his sex; and, in a new suit of clothes, appeared, as he really
was, a good and intelligent-looking young man.
From Barnet, the travellers proceeded in a chaise to London, where
Mortlake took lodgings, and, after the lapse of a few days, disclosed to
the youth his ulterior purposes.
"Mr Vallance----" said he.
"Do not call me 'Mr.' If you do, I shall think I have offended you."
"Well, Tom, then. Listen to what I have to say. You have been my
companion now for nearly three weeks. During that time I have studied
you, and the opinion I have formed is favourable. You possess good
qualities and excellent talents: these have been obscured, but not
extinguished, by your recent follies--not to give them a harsher name.
By giving way to passion, and using threats, which, from you, were ill
judged and ill timed, you have barely escaped an ignominious death. Far
be it from me to say that the late owner of Merton was justified in the
intemperate language he used; but you know that at times he had no
control over himself, and you should have made allowances for what was
really a disease. Of your innocence I have not the slightest doubt,
otherwise I would never have aided your escape from jail. I think the
lesson you have had is one you can never forget; and I prophesy that
Thomas Vallance may yet assume that position in society which good
conduct and perseverance ever secure."
Tom heard this eulogium, qualified as it was, with great delight. "Try
me! Oh, try me, my best friend! Give me an opportunity of evincing, by
the propriety of my conduct, how much I feel your benevolence! To please
you shall be the study of my future life."
"Well, Tom, you shall have a trial. But you must leave me, and cross the
seas. It is not safe for either of us that you remain here."
Tom's countenance fell "And must I leave _you_--the only being in the
world, save my mother, whom I love? But your commands are to me as laws,
and they shall be obeyed."
"Well, then, the family with which I am connected has large possessions
in Antigua, and there is a wealthy mercantile establishment over which I
have no inconsiderable control--so much so, that any recommendation from
me or mine will meet with immediate attention. I shall place you there
as a clerk, and if you discharge the duties of the office
satisfactorily, means shall be afforded of advancing you: in one word,
everything shall be made to depend upon your good behaviour.
Preparations have already been making for your departure, and I have
procured from the senior partner of Mortlake, Tresham, & Co., an order
for your appointment, with a letter of recommendation to Mr Tresham, the
resident partner, whose good graces I sincerely wish you may acquire."
"Mortlake--is he a relation of yours?"
"Yes; but you must ask no questions--seek to know nothing beyond what I
choose to disclose. You must renounce your name. You will therefore, in
future, be known as Thomas Mortlake, the son of a distant relation of
mine. Such is the legend that must be circulated. Now, write to your
mother. Would to heaven I could permit an interview! but that cannot be.
Give me the letter, sealed if you choose, as I have a particular mode of
transmitting it to her, and I wish it to appear, as the former one did,
that it came from Liverpool. Be cautious and guarded in what you
communicate; but mention that, in future, she shall have such an
allowance as will make her easy for life. Now, farewell for a few hours,
and be sure to have your letter ready when I return."
Tom was left to his own reflections. The letter to Mrs Vallance was
written; and, by the time that Mortlake returned, Tom was sufficiently
composed to veil his feelings, and meet him as of old.
"Everything is arranged," said Mortlake. "In a few days you sail from
the Thames by the brig Tresham. You will have every accommodation
afforded that a gentleman can require; a suitable wardrobe is preparing;
in short, my dear young friend, you shall appear to these West Indians
as their equal, and in such guise as suits the proud name of Mortlake.
One thing more, and I have done. The present Baronet of Vavasour has,
through his mother, property in Antigua, and is distantly related to the
elder partner of the firm. You will, therefore, seem as if you knew him
not; and, even in regard to myself, I wish little or nothing said. That
curiosity will be excited, I doubt not, but I leave you to baffle it."
Time passed with unusual rapidity--so, at least, Mr Thomas Mortlake
opined; and the day of his departure having at length arrived, he was
not a little startled when his friend made a very early appearance,
accompanied by a young lady. Advancing towards him, she said--"Mr
Mortlake! I am happy to have had this opportunity of seeing you previous
to your departure, and of personally wishing you every success in the
calling in which you are about to engage. Your friend has no secrets
from me, and I am acquainted with every particular of your singular
history."
"Yes!" exclaimed his protector; "I conceal nothing from this lady, and
she feels as much interest in you as I do myself. We propose to
accompany you to the ship."
Tom felt somewhat confused by this unexpected introduction; but that
natural sense of propriety which is inherent in some minds, and which
others vainly endeavour to obtain, enabled him to acquit himself in a
manner that gave equal satisfaction to both visiters. The party then
proceeded to the vessel, where Mortlake and the lady satisfied
themselves that due provision had been made for the accommodation of
their protege.
"Mr Mortlake!" said the lady at parting, "I have used the freedom of an
old friend, and placed in your cabin a small collection of books, which,
I have no doubt, will materially help to deprive your voyage of half its
tedium; and, when you arrive at the place of your destination, if you
could devote any leisure hours to their study, be assured the benefit
will be incalculable."
"Believe me," he answered, "my kind patrons, whatever may be my fate, I
never can forget the wondrous acts of kindness that have been lavished
on me. If an anxious desire to discharge the duties of my office--if a
determination to surmount difficulties, coupled with a firm resolution
to act fairly and honourably by my neighbours--can be taken as an
earnest of my anxiety to please, on this you may rely; and, if my
exertions be crowned with success, the pleasure will be doubled when I
remember it is all owing to you."
"Tom," said Mr. Mortlake, "you are eloquent; but time flies, and we must
part."
"I have but one request more--no doubt it is needless. Be kind! oh be
kind to my poor mother!"
"On that," replied the lady, "you may depend. And now, farewell!"
Tom took her hand, and pressed it respectfully to his lips; then,
turning to his friend, tried to give utterance to "farewell!" The word
would not pass his lips; forgetting all difference of rank, he threw his
arms around Mortlake's neck, and wept. In a moment, as if ashamed of his
freedom or want of manliness, he hastily withdrew from his embrace.
Mortlake was moved. He pressed the lad affectionately to his
breast--"God bless you, my dear fellow; in me you have ever a steady
friend. And now, farewell!"
They separated; and years elapsed ere Mortlake and his friend again met.
We will now follow the strange fortunes of the junior.
Young Mortlake--for so he must in future be termed--suffered the usual
inconveniences of a sea voyage; and, if ever his boyish inclination,
influenced by a perusal of the fascinating fiction of "Robinson Crusoe,"
had given him a fancy for the pleasures of a seafaring life, they
yielded speedily to the irresistible effects of sea-sickness.
The vessel reached the island in about six weeks, and Tom presented his
credentials to Mr Tresham, from whom he met a favourable reception. He
had an apartment assigned to him in the house, and was treated as one of
the family. To the duties of the counting-house, irksome in the outset,
he became soon reconciled. His anxiety to please was not overlooked by
his master, who, finding him able and apt, gradually raised both his
rank and his salary. Before five years had elapsed, he was head clerk in
the establishment. Favourites are not much liked; but Tom bore his
honours so meekly, and was so obliging, without being obsequious, that
his rise neither excited envy nor surprise--indeed, it was looked upon
as a matter of course; and the astonishment would have been, not that he
had risen, but that he had _not_ risen in the establishment.
When he first arrived, he was pestered with questions as to birth,
parentage, and education. These ordinary, but impertinent queries, he
parried with equal good-humour and tact. All that could be extracted
from him was, that he was protected by Mr Mortlake, and that that was
his own name. Mr Tresham, however, put no questions. Sir Edward Vavasour
was rarely mentioned. Little was known of him, excepting that several
thousands a-year were annually remitted to England as the produce of his
estates. Latterly, Tom observed that these returns were made to account
of Lord Mortlake. This puzzled him; and, upon a question to Tresham
being hazarded, he coldly answered--
"The possessions of Sir Edward Vavasour belong now to Lord Mortlake; but
remember the request of your benefactor--to ask no questions."
Other matters of more importance now occupied our hero's mind, and he
gave himself no further thoughts on the subject. The first fruits of his
labour were piously remitted to his mother, through his English
correspondent. From her he (through the same channel) learned that Sir
Edward Vavasour had given her a nice little cottage and garden, on the
Vavasour estate, in England, rent-free, and that she had sold off
everything in Merton, as the recollections there were unpleasant--the
reason assigned being her former services as housekeeper in the family.
No attempt had been made by him to elicit a confession of her son's
residence. She farther stated, that she regularly received twenty pounds
every half-year from some unknown person; and that she was, therefore,
as happy as she could be in the absence of her son.
The letters from his patron were warm and affectionate. Some little
presents Tom had ventured to make; and a few of those lovely tropical
shells, transmitted to the unknown young lady, were cordially accepted,
not so much for their value, as for the indications they afforded of the
unabated regard of the giver. Tom devoted a certain portion of each day
to study. His early education had been, so far as it went, good; and he
was enabled, by severe application, to master the Roman authors, and
enjoy their beauties.
The death of his mother, during the fourth year of his residence in the
tropics, was a heavy blow to him. He had lived in hopes of coming back
to Britain with a fortune sufficient to support her in affluence; but
his pious intention was frustrated. One consolation he had, that the
kind lady who, with his patron, took such an especial interest in his
affairs, had watched over her dying moments, and afforded her every
comfort.
In the tenth year of his sojourn, a great revolution in his fortunes
took place. One morning, Mr Tresham called him into his private room.
"Mortlake," said he, "you have been now ten years in our service; and,
during that time, I have never had cause to find the slightest fault
with you. The demise of the senior partner compels me to visit England.
Your patron has written me urgently to admit you as a partner; now,
although his recommendation must have weight with me, I can assure you
that I need no solicitation to do an act of justice. I rejoice, by
adding your name to the firm, to show you how much I esteem you, and
what unbounded confidence I have in you."
Tom justly felt gratified by this communication. He was grateful for the
never-slumbering care of his English patron, and equally so for the
personal regard of Tresham, who, having thus removed a considerable
portion of the burdens of commerce upon his younger partner, left the
island, and safely arrived in London, where, for several months, he was
engaged in adjusting the company's accounts, and effecting a settlement
with the representatives of the deceased. The business, meanwhile, went
on under the name of Tresham, Mortlake, & Co., and was managed with as
much prudence and profit by the junior partner as it had previously been
by the senior one.
Tresham having realised a fortune, at the age of fifty resolved to
return to England to enjoy it. Upon this occasion, his nephew, who had
come out some time after Tom, became a partner, and, just twenty years
from the period of his advent, did Thomas Mortlake, Esq., resolve, at
the age of thirty-six, to return to his native land, leaving the
affairs of the company to be exclusively managed by young Tresham, who
was fully adequate to the task.
He embarked in a vessel of the company's; and having had a fair wind, in
a few weeks beheld the chalky cliffs of Old Albion. He found his patron
and Tresham awaiting his landing, and a carriage ready to bear him away.
The meeting was cordial. Twenty years had not affected his patron much.
He was about forty-five years of age, but looked perhaps a little
younger. There was a dignity about his manner which Tom had never
previously remarked; but there was no lack of kindness; on the contrary,
it was obvious at a glance that his return was most acceptable to his
friend. Nor was Tresham less friendly.
As Tom stepped into the carriage, he was thunderstruck to observe a
coat-of-arms on the panels, with a _baron's_ coronet.
"Indeed! Mr Tresham, have you been raised to the peerage?"
Tresham smilingly replied--
"Not yet. We don't know, however, what may happen. Irish peerages may be
had cheap. The carriage is not mine: it belongs to one of our best
customers, Lord Mortlake."
"Bless me!--how kind in his lordship!" was the rejoinder. "Is he, sir, a
friend of yours?" turning to his patron.
"I think," was the answer, "I should know him better than most people;
but come, tell me how affairs are going on in Antigua."
A desultory conversation followed, which lasted nearly the whole period
of their journey. At last the vehicle approached a magnificent baronial
seat, through a long avenue of lime-trees, then in full blossom.
"Here we are!" said the elder Mortlake. Upon leaving the carriage, Tom
and his companions entered a spacious hall of the olden time, the
proprieties of which had been carefully preserved, and which was pretty
much in the same state as it had been during the reign of Elizabeth.
Taking Tom by the hand, his friend welcomed him to his family residence,
and told him that a lady up-stairs--an old friend of his--was waiting to
receive him. "But," added he, "you will perhaps require to go to your
apartments."
Tom, having put himself to rights, was led by Mortlake to the
drawing-room, where he beheld his mysterious female visitant and a young
lady of about nineteen, who, from her resemblance, it was not difficult
to discover was the daughter of his host. Two fine-looking aristocratic
lads, the one aged perhaps sixteen, and the other nearly eighteen, were
standing beside their sister, chatting and laughing with Mr Tresham.
The lady rose to receive her guest, when Tresham interposing,
exclaimed:--
"Allow me--Lady Mortlake, Mr Mortlake; Mr Mortlake, Lady Mortlake."
Tom was confused, certainly; but his good manners did not forsake him,
and he expressed his gratification at again beholding the lady, in
appropriate and feeling terms.