Before mid-day, on the following morning, Everard Morrison was at the
door of the Falcon, but he was not alone. The large form of Captain
Longly not unaccompanied by the pigtail, appeared mounted upon a
short-legged, sturdy, little pony; and as Charles, who happened to be
at the window at the moment of their arrival, perceived the old
seaman, he felt no slight satisfaction at being the first to bear him
the news of Lieutenant Hargrave's real fate. To Morrison, Charles had
only communicated the fact, that he had been overtaken by the
commander of the revenue-cutter, and had promised to return in order
to undergo his trial, and he was, therefore, sure that the news he had
in store, had not been anticipated.
The countenances of both Morrison and Longly, however, were not a
little gloomy, as they entered the chamber in which the young baronet
was, and, after the first salutation, Morrison broke forth with, "This
is most unfortunate, indeed, Sir Charles; but as Mr. Longly was with
me when your note came, I thought it but right to communicate its
contents to him, and he determined to come with me, to tell you
himself what he has resolved upon doing."
Charles Terrell was about to reply, but Longly instantly took up the
tale, and, after having pulled the waistband of his breeches as far up
as possible, and rolled something which was in his mouth into his
cheek, he went on, "You see, Sir Charles, it is not fair that one man
should suffer for another--not that I would ever have let you suffer
for me, though you were honourable enough to keep your word with me,
even to death, which must be a satisfaction to you--but now, as the
case goes, you have done your best, and have tried to get away, and
can't: and so, I am resolved, sir, on the trial, to come forward, and
to tell all, do you see. In the first place, it rests hard upon my
mind, and I can't bear up against this wind;--next, you see, sir, I
would a deal rather be hanged at once, and have done with it, than go
on, never knowing one day, whether I shall not be hanged the next;
but, as for that, however, Mr. Everard here thinks he can get me off,
because, you see, we can prove, by that young scoundrel's letter to my
poor Hannah, that it was a trap he laid for her, and so I might well
be angry; and then that smuggling has blown over, for all the men were
acquitted at six o'clock, last night; so, if they can prove nothing
against them, they can prove nothing against me;--and it is likely to
be manslaughter at the worst. However, you see, Sir Charles, I do not
so much care how it goes, because, before that, my Hannah is going to
be married to as noble a young fellow, though I say it to his face, as
ever lived, who loves her dearly, and she him--so she is taken care
of; but, nevertheless, even it were not so, I should not let you be
hanged for me, any how."
Although this oration, on the part of good Captain Longly, might be a
little out of form and propriety of speech, it served to convey to
Charles Tyrrell, a great deal of information, regarding matters of
some interest, and to afford him a very fair picture of the honest
seaman's feelings. He would indeed have interrupted him, in order to
save him one moment of unnecessary pain, but when Captain Longly was
once set going, it was no easy thing to stop him, till he had
exhausted what he had to say; every appearance that he saw of a wish
to cut him short, only making him raise his voice, and repeat, in a
louder tone, what he had just been saying.
When he was done, however, Charles took the hand, which Longly held
out to him as a sort of full stop at the end of the sentence; and
replied, "I am much obliged to you, Mr. Longly, for your frankness and
generous thoughts in this matter; but I have some news for you, that
will surprise you, much more than it does me to find that Mr. Longly
is always ready to do what is right and honourable. You fully believe
that you killed Lieutenant Hargrave."
"To be sure!" exclaimed Longly, "though I have never been able to get
that old scoundrel, Jenkins, to tell me what he did with the body. He
winks his eye, and says it is all safe; but I can't get any more out
of him. He'll be obliged to tell now, however."
"It will be unnecessary," replied Charles Tyrrell, "for I can tell
you, that Lieutenant Hargrave was alive and well on board the
revenue-cutter, not four days ago, and now lies buried in a small
church-yard in Devonshire, having been drowned while trying to get off
from the cutter, which struck on a reef called the Hog's-back."
Longly smacked his hand upon his thigh, till the place rang again, and
then exclaimed, "Ay, that's what's the meaning of all that winking.
But I can scarcely believe my ears--Did you see him yourself, sir? Can
you swear it was him, and not his ghost?"
"I saw him with my own eyes," replied Charles; "but besides that
proof, I have the acknowledgment of the commander of the cutter, his
own friend, who had him on board, and did not even know that anything
was the matter with him, but a spitting of blood, till I showed him
the wound of the ball in the throat of the corpse, after he was
drowned."[3]
Longly shook himself, much in the way of a Newfoundland dog, when he
comes out of the water, exclaiming, "Well, that is something off my
head--now you are quite safe, Sir Charles!"
"I am not quite sure," replied Charles Tyrrell, "two doubts have been
put into my mind, by Mr. Driesen, last night, and I must speak with
you, Morrison, on the subject."
He then proceeded to explain to Everard Morrison the circumstances
which Mr. Driesen had mentioned, and the opinion which he had said the
council had expressed, regarding the period at which the murder must
have been committed; and he was somewhat pained to see that the young
lawyer entertained a somewhat similar view of the case to Mr. Driesen.
Morrison's opinion, however, was more favourable in some respects; but
it was founded upon a shrewd view of human nature, especially when
appearing, as it does, in such bodies as juries.
"Were the case to come before them, now," he said, "exactly as it
really stands, the fact of the quarrel, of the gun, and the gardener
having seen you, precisely in the same direction as that in which the
body was found, without any other extraneous circumstances being mixed
up with the matter, I should say, with Mr. Driesen, that your case
bore a very ominous aspect; but the very circumstance of there having
been various other suspicious matters against you, brought before the
coroner's jury, and a prepossession having thus been created against
you, will, in the present instance, tell greatly in your favour. You
will now be able to explain all those circumstances in a manner most
honourable to yourself, and the reaction will be so great, that the
jury will think you have disproved the whole case against you, because
you have disproved a part. The evidence of Mr. Longly and Hailes, too,
need, as far as I see, in no degree implicate themselves, though,
doubtless, the examining counsel will do the best they can to get to
the bottom of the matter."
Upon a hint from Charles Tyrrell, that he wished to speak with
Morrison alone, Captain Longly shortly after left them, and the
circumstances regarding the old man, Smithson, came under discussion.
Notwithstanding the view which the landlord of the inn had taken, and
to which Charles Tyrrell had coincided, Morrison judged it better to
go down himself to Smithson's cottage, and see if he could elicit any
intimation of the real nature and character of the evidence he was
willing to give. When he arrived at the cottage, however old Smithson
was not at home, and Morrison had to wait for some time, ere he made
his appearance. When he did come, at length, nothing was to be gained
from him. He remained perversely silent, saying,
"Never you mind. I'll be there to give evidence, and I'll tell the
truth, let come of it what may. That's all that anybody can expect. I
won't say a word of it beforehand, for anybody, that's enough."
Finding it utterly in vain to urge him upon the subject, Morrison left
him, and reported his want of success to the young baronet. He then
promised him to ride over to the manor-house direct, in order to
prepare the mind of Lady Tyrrell for a visit from her son, who
proposed, as soon as it was dark, to go over to see his mother, with
whom he had had no interview since the terrible day of his father's
death.
Everard Morrison at once proceeded to execute this commission, and on
arriving at the manor-house, he found Lady Tyrrell, Mrs. Effingham,
and Mr. Driesen, in conversation together, and apparently in much
higher spirits than he could have anticipated.
"Oh, Mr. Morrison," said Lady Tyrrell, when he entered, "here is our
good friend, Mr. Driesen, has brought us tidings which have raised the
spirits of the whole party. He gives me the most positive assurances
that our poor Charles is certain of acquittal."
"Indeed," said Morrison, gravely, for he imagined that Mr. Driesen had
been buoying up Lady Tyrrell's spirits with hopes that he did not
himself entertain, and disapproving of all such policy, he determined
to do nothing to encourage it. "Indeed, I had fancied, that Mr.
Driesen took a rather more gloomy view of the matter."
"My good friend," replied Mr. Driesen, with a slight curl of the lip,
"if you remember rightly, yesterday was a cloudy day, and to-day the
sun shines, as you see: if I had said yesterday, 'What a fine
morning,' you would have stared: to-day, if I were to say, 'How cold
and gloomy,' you would stare as much. Now the time that has passed
sufficient to drive away the clouds from the sky, may have brought
matter to remove the clouds from my mind, too; and something has
occurred this morning, which makes me say confidently to Lady Tyrrell,
that she has no cause for the slightest apprehension, and that
Charles's innocence will be established beyond all manner of doubt."
Morrison listened with no inconsiderable degree of surprise, and, if
we must own the truth, with some suspicion. Now as he was, though a
lawyer, by no means naturally suspicious, his doubts arose from two
circumstances. In the first place, from the little he had seen of Mr.
Driesen, he by no means was inclined to like or trust that gentleman;
and he had, indeed, made up his mind, that Mr. Driesen, as to his real
character and feelings, systematically attempted to deceive all the
world, beginning with himself. There was some truth in this, although
it was too general, perhaps. But in the next place, as regarded the
matter in question at the moment, he remarked that Mr. Driesen's
illustration of his change of opinion, was forced, unnatural, and
wordy, and quite contrary to his usual tone and pointed manner of
expressing himself. He determined, therefore, if possible, to unravel
the mystery, and therefore replied:--
"I am very happy to hear, sir, what you say; but of course, as
employed in defending Sir Charles Tyrrell, I should be very glad to
hear upon what grounds you found your new-risen expectations of such a
favourable result."
"There now," cried Mr. Driesen, smiling; "there now. He comes with his
grave face, and his lawyer-like logic, to destroy all that I have been
doing to console you two ladies. But do not let him, my dear Lady
Tyrrell; do not let him: for if he were the very worst lawyer that
ever was born--which Heaven forbid I should insinuate," and he made
Everard Morrison a low bow, "I defy him to spoil the case of my good
friend, Charles, who is as certain of being acquitted as I am of
living till tomorrow morning, which I'm sure I hope I shall do, as I
have no less than seven letters to write, some upon business, which
might be put off very well upon the eve of a journey to the other
world; but some mere letters of politeness, and the good folks would
think me rude if I were to go without writing them."
As he ended, he whistled two or three bars of an air, and then
suddenly turning to Mrs. Effingham, and seeming to recollect himself,
he said:--
"I beg pardon, my dear lady, for presuming to whistle in your
presence; but that whistling lilibullero is a bad trick, which I
caught of my uncle Toby. I always do it when there's a cat or a lawyer
in the room--no offence, Mr. Morrison! for I was bred a lawyer myself,
you know."
"And pray, my good sir," said Morrison, "how did you manage then, if
you always whistle lilibullero when there's a lawyer in the room?"
"Why, I did nothing but whistle all day long, with my hands in my
pockets," replied Mr. Driesen, not at all put out of countenance; "so
I was obliged to give up the law, my good sir, otherwise I should have
whistled myself away altogether. As it was, I had whistled myself into
the shape and likeness of a flagelet, as you now see."
While this conversation had been going on, Morrison had been turning
in his own mind all the circumstances connected with the case of
Charles Tyrrell, and endeavouring to fix upon some particular, which
might give a clew to the sudden change which had taken place in Mr.
Driesen's opinion of the case. He recollected at length, that when he
had gone down to see Smithson in the morning, the old fisherman had
been absent, and that he had come back to his house, by the road,
which led from Harbury park. When Mr. Driesen had finished his reply,
therefore, he said somewhat abruptly:--
"I suppose the truth is, Mr. Driesen, that you have had old Smithson
with you this morning."
For a moment or two, Mr. Driesen made no reply, but fixed his eyes
full and keenly upon him. He then answered,
"Yes, Mr. Morrison. The truth is, I have. What then, pray?"
"Why, nothing, Mr. Driesen," replied Morrison, "only that I now know
the cause of your change of opinion in regard to Sir Charles Tyrrell's
case, and the good spirits you seem to be in this morning."
Mr. Driesen gazed upon him for a moment or two, with a withering
sneer, and then replied, rising,
"You know nothing about it! Good morning, Mrs. Effingham--good
morning, Lady Tyrrell. I leave this wise young gentleman to
demonstrate to you satisfactorily, that the moon is made of green
cheese, or at least is inhabited by an old single gentleman like
myself, with a bundle of sticks upon his back. But make your mind
quite easy, nevertheless, for Charles will be acquitted for all that."
Thus saying, he left them, and Morrison saw him go without any
expression of anger, merely saying,
"Good Mr. Driesen is evidently rejoiced at the prospect of Sir
Charles's speedy acquittal, and proud of possessing a little knowledge
more than I nave been able to extract this morning from the witness
whom he has seen. I think, however, Lady Tyrrell, you may trust with
some degree of confidence to what he says, for now that I know the
cause of his change of opinion in some degree, I am inclined to
suppose that it has not taken place without good grounds."
"That is very satisfactory to me, Mr. Morrison," said Mrs. Effingham;
"for I confess I have this morning been in great great doubt and
difficulty what to do. I have received a letter from Devonshire,
informing me that my poor Lucy is very unwell. The medical men there
say, not dangerously at present; but of course, I am anxious to set
off immediately to be with her; and yet I did not like to go without
being able to bear her good news of Charles, which I know would be the
best medicine she could receive."
"I think, my dear madam," replied Morrison, "that you may set off with
all safety, and assure her that though nothing on earth is so
uncertain, of course, as the law, yet there is every probability of
Charles establishing his innocence beyond a doubt. I think so the
more from what Mr. Driesen had just said; but even before I heard
that, I was inclined to entertain very great, though not perfectly
confident hopes of a favourable result."
"If you think so," said Mrs. Effingham, "I will set off immediately. I
understood that the trial was to take place to-morrow, and in a few
lines in Lucy's own hand, she begged me not to come till it was over;
but if you think that the result is very nearly certain, I will go at
once."
Everard expressed his opinion, that she might go in safety, and
consequently she set off as soon as horses could be procured.
She found Lucy much more seriously ill than she had expected. She had
kept up, and exerted herself, to appear well till Charles Tyrrell had
left her; but from that moment had become worse, and all the effects
of the fatigue, and grief, and cold, and anxiety, that she had
undergone, told upon her health, and reduced her to a situation of
great danger. She was slightly better than she had been on the day
that her mother arrived, and the fresh hopes which Mrs. Effingham
brought her, tended to give a favourable turn to her malady.
We must now, however, pause, and once more go back to the scenes in
which our tale first began, in order to show how far those hopes were
realized or disappointed.