“Right you are, Sir Thomas, for have him I would, and if he had
not agreed to marry me I should have died of disappointment. Nor
has he been a free agent since that day,--not for one moment free
from my love, my admiration, and my solicitude. I knew you well, Sir
Thomas, forty years ago” (this was a cruel thrust, for Sir Thomas was
notoriously touchy about his age), “and I would no more have run away
with _you_ then than I would this night--and God knows no woman in all
the three kingdoms would go with you now!”
The delight of the crowd was extraordinary. I believe they would have
mobbed Sir Thomas, except that they felt that Lady Hawkshaw could
inflict the more exquisite misery on him. The judges, still going up
the steps slowly, probably heard every word of this controversy. The
crowd then parted, and taking Sir Thomas’ horses by the bits, forced
them to give place to Lady Hawkshaw’s coach, and she descended amid the
loudest cheers of the populace.
Within the splendid ball-room Lady Hawkshaw’s triumph was even more
marked. Numbers of great people flocked around her; many of them had
been witnesses of her battle royal with Sir Thomas, and the story had
quickly spread to the rest. Lady Hawkshaw, in spite of her oddities,
had always maintained the respect of all who knew her, and never saw I
a woman who bore, under all circumstances, more unmistakably the air of
a great lady; whether squabbling with Sir Peter, laying down the law
to the world at large, or speaking bad French, she was invariably the
woman of quality.
The scene of the ball was so gorgeous that even my sad heart took
note of it. The hall was ablaze with wax lights, and a huge band
of musicians brayed and trumpeted. The lords justices, the lords
lieutenants of the three Ridings, and many other persons were in full
court costumes, and the ladies’ trains of brocade and velvet were a
sight to see. And I may be pardoned for saying that Mistress Richard
Glyn was by no means the least handsome of the women present.
By Lady Hawkshaw’s command we were all to look cheerful, and, when I
saw the outpouring of popular approval upon us as Giles Vernon’s next
friends, my heart grew less heavy.
Lady Hawkshaw seated herself in a large chair at the end of the hall,
where she held a kind of court. She wore a gown of some sort of crimson
stuff, with a great tail to it, and on her head was a turban with a
bird of paradise in it, and on top of that, her huge diamond tiara.
Everybody flocked to pay her court, and the lord lieutenant of the
East Riding asked the honor of her hand to open the ball. She promptly
agreed, with the added remark that she had not danced for thirty years.
Sir Peter attempted to interpose.
“You can not do it, my lady,” he said. “You will trip up and break your
leg.”
“Not unless you trip me up, Sir Peter,” responded her ladyship, who
was totally unable to keep up the turtle-dove style toward Sir Peter
for any appreciable length of time. “My legs are as good as the lord
lieutenant’s, thank God! and I shall have the pleasure in dancing with
his lordship.”
Obeying a look from her, Daphne accepted a partner, and I secured one
in the lord mayor’s daughter. Sir Thomas Vernon, who was then in the
hall, had the ineffable impudence to wish to dance in the country dance
with us, but he was met everywhere with cold looks and refusals.
The ladies of the lords lieutenants were all engaged; so were their
daughters. It was a picture to see him going along the line of ladies
sitting against the wall, being repulsed by all, and his composure
under these embarrassing circumstances was the most extraordinary thing
I ever saw. He wore a smile upon his sickly, but handsome face all the
time, and, at last, he found a partner in the person of a monstrous
ugly woman, whose husband was in the hides and leather trade.
We took our places, Lady Hawkshaw and the lord lieutenant, a fine,
handsome man, many years younger than she, at the head of the room. And
then the musicians struck up, and Lady Hawkshaw began to dance.
Such dancing! It was of the kind that was fashionable before the
American war, and introduced so many cuts, capers, pigeon-wings, slips,
slides, and pirouettes, that it was really an art in itself. And her
agility was surprising. With her train over her arm, her tiara blazing,
and her bird of paradise nodding violently, Lady Hawkshaw’s small
high-bred feet twinkled. She was a large woman, too, and she proved
that her boast about her legs was well founded. When she came face to
face with Sir Thomas Vernon in the dance, instead of turning him, she
folded her arms and sailed around him, carefully avoiding touching his
hand. And he, the old sinner, being acquainted with that ancient style
of dancing, made a caper so exactly like her ladyship’s, with so grave
a countenance, that the whole ball-room was in a titter. But although
the people might laugh at Sir Thomas’ excellent mimicry, the sentiment
was totally against him, and he found difficulty in getting gentlemen
to notice him, or ladies to dance with him. With Lady Hawkshaw, on the
contrary, it was every man’s desire to dance; she was besieged with
partners, young and old; but having shown what she could do, she rested
upon her laurels, and sat in state the rest of the evening, fanning
herself with vast dignity and composure, and occasionally snapping at
Sir Peter, who, it must be admitted, made no great figure at a ball.
At last it was over, and we returned to our lodgings. The next day
but one we were on our way to the assize hall for the trial of Giles
Vernon.
A tremendous crowd was present, and there was difficulty in gaining an
entrance; some one, however, in the multitude set up a shout of “Way
for Lady Hawkshaw!” and the people fell back, leaving us a clear path
to the door, and into the hall itself.
Within that place of judgment all was dignity and decorum. The lords
justices in their robes and wigs sat like statues; and, presently, when
we were all seated and the crier had pronounced the court open, Giles
Vernon was brought in, and placed in the prisoners’ dock. He looked
pale from his late confinement, but I thought I had never seen his
plain features so nearly handsome. His fine figure was nobly set off by
the identical brown and silver suit which the poor fellow had bought
for his wedding with Lady Arabella, and, in a flash, came back to me
that strange vision I had had at his London lodgings on the night that
this unfortunate elopement was first talked of between us. My heart
stood still, and I grew sick and faint at the recollection of the rest
of that dream, or revelation, or whatever it was.
Giles, meanwhile, had bowed respectfully to the judges, then to the
assembled people, who very generally returned his salutation with every
mark of politeness. Turning to where we sat, he bowed and smiled. We
all rose, and Lady Hawkshaw and Daphne made him deep curtseys. A jury
was soon selected and sworn, and the first witness called was Lady
Arabella Stormont.
In a moment she entered, leaning upon the arm of Sir Thomas Vernon, and
was by him escorted to her place in the witness-box.
Her beauty was almost unearthly. She wore a black gown and a simple
white cap, under which the curls of her rich hair shone like burnished
gold. She was perfectly composed, and, after being sworn, began her
story in a manner the most quiet and calm. A deep stillness reigned
through the vast room, and every one in it caught her lowest word.
Her testimony was entirely clear and straightforward. She related
the circumstances of her being dragged off, while coming out of the
playhouse at Scarborough; of finding herself alone in the chaise with
Giles Vernon, who told her he was taking her to Scotland to marry her;
that she struggled violently and endeavored to get out of the chaise,
and that she was withheld by force by Giles, who severely hurt her
wrists, causing blood to flow; and finally, that when she began to
scream, Giles put his hand over her mouth and stifled her cries. She
said that this conduct was kept up the whole of the night, until they
reached Gretna Green at daylight; that all the time Giles was imploring
her to marry him, then threatening to kill himself or her; and that she
told him many times she preferred death to marriage with him; and at
last, on reaching Gretna Green, she defied him and escaped from him.
When she had concluded, there was an ominous stillness for a time, and
then I saw something which struck a chill to my heart. I had stealthily
kept my eyes fixed on the judges to see whether they gave in their
countenances any signs of lenity or severity. They were altogether
unmoved, except one, who was reported to be a most merciful man. He
grew pale and paler as Lady Arabella’s story progressed, and I saw him
several times wipe the cold sweat from his brow, and at last a sigh
broke from him; but I think no one noted it but me, for the multitude
of people were absorbed in the sight of this beautiful young woman, so
coolly swearing away the life of a man who had loved her.
Giles Vernon bore the ordeal unflinchingly, and when at intervals she
looked toward him with a quiet hatred in her glance, he gazed steadily
back at her.
She was then to be cross-examined. Many questions were asked her by the
great London barrister, who was one of the three defending Giles. One
query was, whether she had ever given Mr. Vernon reason to think she
would marry him, to which she replied,--
“No; never in my life.”
She was then asked if there was another gentleman in the case, and
for the first time she showed confusion. Her face grew crimson, and
she remained silent. The question was not pressed, and she was soon
permitted to retire. When she passed out of the hall, she was the
divinest picture of beauty and modesty I ever saw. Her eyes sought
the floor, and a delicious blush mantled her cheek. I believe that
many persons, under the spell of her beauty, thought that she was an
unwilling witness, and pitied her youth and inexperience.
But it was hanging testimony she gave, and well she knew it.
After the examination of the postboys and other witnesses for the
prosecution, I was called as the first witness for Giles. I told the
circumstances of our agreement to run away with the two charmers of our
hearts; and the fact that I had been so readily forgiven, not only by
Daphne herself, but by Sir Peter and Lady Hawkshaw, I saw produced a
good effect. But when I was asked by the other side if I had ever seen,
or if Giles had ever claimed, any willingness on Lady Arabella’s part
to go off with him, I broke down miserably. My testimony did Giles but
little good, I fear.
Sir Peter Hawkshaw was the next witness. It was plain from the start
that he desired to help Giles, and likewise that he knew very little of
the affair until it was all over. But he proved a most entertaining, if
discursive witness.
Sir Peter evidently thought the witness-box was his own quarter-deck,
and he proceeded to harangue the court in his best manner as a flag
officer. He talked of everything except the case; he gave a most
animated description of the fight between the _Ajax_ on our side and
the _Indomptable_ and _Xantippe_ on the other, praising Giles Vernon’s
gallantry at every turn. He also aired his views on the subject of
the flannel shirts furnished to the navy, alleging that some rascally
contractors ought to be hanged at the yard-arm for the quality
supplied; and wound up by declaring, with great gusto, that if an
officer in his Majesty’s service desired to marry a young lady, it was
an act of spirit to carry her off, and for his part, fellows of that
sort were the kind he should select to lead a boarding party, while the
sneaking, law-abiding fellows should be under the hatches when the ship
was cleared for action.
Sir Peter’s rambling but vigorous talk was not without its effect, upon
which I think he had shrewdly calculated. In vain counsel for the crown
tried to check him; Sir Peter bawled at them to pipe down, and remarked
aloud of the senior counsel who had been most active in trying to
suppress him,--
[Illustration: “That lawyer fellow is three sheets in the wind!” _Page
201_]
“That lawyer fellow is three sheets in the wind, with the other one
a-flapping!”
The judges, out of respect to him, made no great effort to subdue him,
and he had the satisfaction of telling his story his own way. When the
prosecution took him in hand, they found, though, that he could very
well keep to the subject-matter, and they did not succeed in getting
anything of the slightest consequence out of him. When he stepped down,
I saw that he had in reality done much more good to Giles’ cause than I
had, although he knew little about the facts, and I knew all.
Then came Lady Hawkshaw’s testimony. Sir Peter’s was not a patch on
it. Like him, she really had no material evidence to give, but, with a
shrewdness equal to his, she made a very good plea for the prisoner.
She began with a circumstantial account of her own marriage to Sir
Peter, in which the opposition of her family was painted in lurid hues.
In vain was she again and again checked; she managed to tell her tale
against the vigorous objections of the prosecutors, and the somewhat
feeble and perfunctory rebukes from the bench. The jury, however, were
plainly so interested in it, that no serious attempt was made to stop
her--not that it would have availed anything, for Lady Hawkshaw was not
used to stopping for any one.
“No doubt my family could have hounded Sir Peter for marrying me,”
she announced in the beginning, “but my family, your honors, is an
honorable one, and would not condescend to nasty tricks like--” Here
she fixed her great black eyes on Sir Thomas Vernon, who smiled blandly
and took snuff.
“And as for a man expecting opposition in a girl he is willing to
marry, I ask your honors, does a man exist who can believe, until it is
proved to him beyond cavil, that there is a woman alive who would not
jump for joy to marry him?”
This produced so much laughter that the bailiffs had to enforce order
in the hall.
Lady Hawkshaw then, with great ingenuity, referred to Sir Thomas
Vernon, “who, in those days, forty years ago, was not called ‘Wicked
Sir Thomas,’ but plain ‘Lying Tom Vernon’!”
This produced a regular uproar, during which Lady Hawkshaw, with
great complacency, fanned herself. After a warning from the presiding
justice to keep to the matter in hand, she curtsied deeply to him, and
immediately resumed her account of Sir Thomas Vernon, in which she told
of a certain occasion, in the time of the American war, when, as the
royal family was passing to chapel at Windsor, hisses were heard, which
were directly traced to Sir Thomas Vernon, the king having declined to
receive him at the levee on account of his notoriously bad character.
And Sir Thomas, being thrust out, was taken by some of the inhabitants
of Windsor, and ducked in a neighboring horse-pond. At this point, the
judge himself courteously but firmly interrupted Lady Hawkshaw, and
informed her that she could not be permitted to go on in that strain.
“I shall observe your lordship’s caution,” she replied politely, and
straightway launched into a description of Sir Thomas’ appearance when
he emerged from the horse-pond, which brought a smile to every face in
court--including even the judge’s--except the victim himself, who bit
his lip, and scowled in fury.
The judges afterward said that Lady Hawkshaw proved to be the most
unmanageable witness any and all of them had ever encountered; for in
spite of them, she gave a circumstantial account of every misdeed Sir
Thomas Vernon had ever been guilty of in his life, as far as she knew.
The crown lawyers, very wisely, declined to cross-examine this witness.
When she stepped down out of the witness-box and took Sir Peter’s arm,
she passed close to the presiding justice, who happened to have his
snuff-box open in his hand. My lady deliberately stopped and took a
pinch out of the judge’s box, remarking suavely,--
“Your lordship shows excellent taste in preferring the Spanish!”