ON a certain bleak Thursday of January, Randolph Mason sat in his
office, absorbed in the study of a great map which was spread out on his
table. The day was so dark and lowering that the electric light above
the table had been turned on. Presently the door opened and the little
clerk Parks looked in. He watched the lawyer for a few moments intently;
then he withdrew his head. A few minutes later, the door again opened
and a woman entered, and closed it behind her. She stopped and looked
at the counsellor, bending over his map. The picture was not a pleasant
one. The man's streaked, gray hair was rumpled, and his heavy-muscled
face under the glare of the light was rather more brutal than otherwise.
Then she crossed to the table and threw a newspaper down on the map.
“Will you kindly read that marked paragraph?” she said.
Randolph Mason looked up. For a moment he did not recall the woman, her
face was so very white. Then he recognized his client, Mrs. Van Bartan.
“You will pardon me, madam,” he said. “I am deeply engaged. Kindly come
here tomorrow.”
“I have to regret,” said the woman, “that I ever came here at all. Will
you please read that paragraph?” And she put her finger down on the
newspaper.
The counsellor looked at the paper.
“We notice by to-day's _Herald_,” it ran, “that Robert Dalton, Esq., has
sailed for Japan, where it is said he will become a legal instructor in
one of the national universities. Mr. Dalton, it will be remembered, is
the attorney whose stupid blunder invalidated the Van Bartan will, and
it is to be hoped that he will prove more efficient in the service
of the Mikado. The bar of the Virginias cannot be said to regret Mr.
Dalton's departure. He was grossly incompetent, and just such men bring
the legal profession into disrepute.”
“What of all this?” said Mason. “You obtained what you desired. Why do
you harass me with this nonsense?”
“I obtained it,” repeated the woman, bitterly. “Yes, thanks to your
devilish ingenuity, I obtained it, but at what a cost! I have the money,
but it is daubed over with the blood of a man's heart It has the price
of a man's honor stamped on the face of every coin. I hate it all.
Everything I see, every thread that touches me, taunts me with the shame
of such a sacrifice.”
The woman's voice was firm, but her figure trembled like a tense wire.
“Madam.” said Randolph Mason, “you annoy me. I have no interest in this
drivel.”
“No interest in it?” cried the woman. “You, you have no interest in it?
Was it not you who did it? You and the devil himself? You concocted this
plan. You said go to him, and tell him, and he would know what to do.
Your fiendish ingenuity saw what would result, but you did not tell me.
You did not tell me that this man would be compelled to rip his life
in two like a cloth to save me, and that he would do it. If I had known
this, do you suppose that I would have gone on for a moment? Do you
suppose that I wanted wealth, or ease, or luxury, at the cost of a man's
hope and fame and honor? I tell you, you miserable blunderer, this thing
cost too much.”
“Chatter,” said Mason, rising.
“Chatter!” cried the woman, beating her hards on the table. “Do you call
this chatter? I charge you,--do you hear me, I charge you with the ruin
of this man's life.”
“Madam,” said Randolph Mason, “the vice of your error lies in the fact
that you should have consulted a priest. I am not concerned with the
nonsense of emotion.”
Then he turned abruptly and walked out of the room.
_(See Amer, and Eng. Enc of Law. vol. ii., page 926, and the cases
there discussed; see also State us. Richardson, S.C. 35 Lawyers' Reports
Annotated, 238, and cases there cited; also Constitution of the United
States, Art., and the Constitution of West Virginia Art. 3, Sec. 5.)_