The next was a busy day with Chandos Winslow. His first occupation was
to sell out a sum sufficient to pay the costs of the late trial, as
far as he was able to calculate them, from the rough data which he had
received. He added thereunto, two hundred and fifty pounds, for his
current expenses; and having arranged that affair, and placed the
money in his banker's hands, he proceeded to seek the friend who had
so ably pleaded his cause. From his house, he was sent to his
chambers; from his chambers, to a court of law, where he found him,
wigged and gowned, in the midst of a long and laborious argument,
which seemed likely never to come to an end. After enduring full two
hours, however, the speech was concluded; and Chandos, sending his
card, obtained a moment's interview with his friend. Sir---- shook him
warmly by the hand, saying rapidly, "Come to me at nine to-night,
Winslow: I cannot stay with you now; for I must hear what the
gentlemen opposite have to say. Don't eat much dinner; for I shall eat
nothing till then."
"At your own house, or at your chambers?" asked Chandos.
"At chambers, at chambers," said the barrister, turning to go back
into the court. "I shall not get home till two. Our lives are not easy
ones."
It was now about four o'clock; and, with feelings difficult to
describe, but to which he was resolved not to yield, Chandos Winslow
proceeded to call upon several of his most intimate acquaintances. It
required an effort to knock at the first door. The feeling of having
stood in the felon's dock, was strong upon him. The uncertainty of the
reception he should meet with; the knowledge that, with a mind which:
has the slightest tincture of vulgarity--that is to say, with nine
hundred and ninety-nine thousand nine hundred and ninety-nine persons
out of every million--an accusation, however false, leaves some stain;
he felt irritable and impatient beforehand, at the idea of being
treated coldly at a moment when he felt that society owed him
something, for having inflicted on him undeserved hardships.
Luckily he had chosen well in the person whom he had selected for his
first visit. She was the widow of a nobleman who had been
distinguished for many virtues himself; and she was mild, kind, and
charitable, though not without a certain degree of dignified
stateliness, which showed that she felt her high station, without the
slightest touch of pride. She received her young visitor almost as if
nothing had happened. I say, almost, because there was the least
possible difference in the warmth of her reception. It was more
cordial, less tranquil, than it might have been under ordinary
circumstances. She rose from her seat more quickly, held out her hand,
and said, "Oh, Mr. Winslow, is that really you? Well, this is very
kind of you, to call upon me so soon. Now sit down, pray, and tell me
all about yourself, and what you are going to do; how long you are to
be in London, and all."
Chandos was soon at his ease; and he thought, "With some few friends
such as this, I can afford to set the general world at nought." About
twenty minutes passed very pleasantly; and then he rose to proceed to
another house. His reception there was very different: the whole
family was cold; and he stayed not ten minutes. Then again, at the
next place, he heard the owner of the house, even after he had been
admitted to the drawing-room, tell the servant from a neighbouring
chamber to say that he had made a mistake, and that his master was
out. When the man re-entered to utter the prescribed lie Chandos had
his hat on his head, and was walking towards the door: "You may spare
yourself, my good man," he said, bowing his head haughtily, "I have
heard the whole," and he walked out of the house, never to enter it
again.
He made one other call. The lady of the house was at home, and
delighted to see him. She talked to him incessantly of his trial,
declared that it was the funniest and most delightful thing that had
ever happened; and invited him to a ball, where all the great people
in London were to be present.
Chandos had no inclination to be exhibited as a felon-lion; and did
not promise to go.
At nine o'clock precisely, Chandos was at his friend's chambers, and
found him alone, with a table spread for two, in a little dull room. A
note-book and some stray papers lay on one side of the table; and the
moment after the young gentleman had entered, a servant brought in a
tray, with soup and several other dishes upon it, sent from some
neighbouring hotel.
"Now, Winslow, sit down," said the barrister, "and we will talk as we
eat; for I can afford but one hour for repose and refreshment
to-day." The servant uncovered the dishes, and instantly disappeared.
The barrister took his place, helped his guest and himself to soup;
and between each spoonful, looked at the papers and notes beside him,
without apology. As soon as the soup was done, he rang a bell, which
was tied by a string to his chair; and while the servant took away the
plates, and handed some cutlets to his master's guest, the great
lawyer rubbed his temple with one finger, in a profound reverie. The
servant then disappeared, without venturing to disturb his master's
meditations by presenting the dish; and the next moment the barrister
roused himself, saying, "Come, Winslow, a glass of wine, and then I
will tell you what you must do. I think you must take a solicitor with
you, and go down very quietly into the neighbourhood of Winslow Abbey.
The first person you had better see is your good friend, Lockwood. Let
him dictate to the solicitor everything he knows regarding certain
papers found by Mr. Roberts, at the Abbey. He will do it willingly
enough, I am sure. Then you must get hold of a young gentleman, whose
relationship to yourself, or connexion with your family, I do not
know; but his name is--let me see--Faber."
"Oh! poor Faber," said Chandos; "he is a good young man, but weak; and
as to his relationship with me, I believe it is very much the same as
Lockwood's."
He spoke with a faint smile, and his friend laughed, saying, "Well
then, you must exercise your brotherly influence over him, for the
purpose of inducing him to give a full, true, and particular account
of all he knows concerning these papers, and of a will, made five
years posterior to the one proved, but which has not yet appeared."
Chandos mused for a moment, and the barrister took another glass of
wine. "I am afraid," said the former, at length, "that Faber will not
be easily induced to speak. He certainly loves me better than he does
my brother. He has been with me more, is kind and well disposed; but
still his is one of those characters on which the stern and determined
work easily, and which may be led to wrong those whom they love best,
for the sake of those whom they fear. I have seen him actually shake
in my brother's presence; and I do not think he dare utter a word
which would offend Sir William Winslow, even if he were at a thousand
miles' distance."
"If he is only to be moved by sternness and determination, you must be
stern and determined, too," said his friend; "you can be so when you
like, I know, Winslow."
"But Faber will never believe I shall prove so to him," answered
Chandos: "I may threaten; but he will trust to my regard for him to
render my threats of no avail."
"At all events, you must try every means to make him speak," rejoined
Sir ----; "for his testimony might be very important. He was present,
it seems, when Mr. Roberts found, in a drawer of the library, a
memorandum, in your father's handwriting, of his having given the
last will, which he made about five years ago, into the keeping of
your brother."
"Indeed!" said Chandos. "This is new to me. But if we have not the
will itself, I suppose the memorandum will be of little avail."
"Unsupported, of course, it will be of none at all," replied his
friend; "but I find that when the memorandum was discovered, Faber
showed so much agitation, that those who witnessed it were led to
suspect that he knew more of what had become of the will than he chose
to acknowledge. At all events, you must try every means with him; and
having got all the information you can from those two sources, I would
advise you to cross the country to see Mr. Roberts's executor, and
endeavour to obtain an inspection of his papers. If amongst them there
should be found a copy of a will of that date, though not signed, or a
sketch of one in your father's handwriting, and if you can prove that
the other will has been lately destroyed, I think--mind, I speak
doubtingly--but I think we might do something, by one means or
another."
"A law-suit with a brother," said Chandos, musing, "based on an
accusation of his having destroyed his father's will, and wronged his
brother! It would be a terrible thing!"
"It would, indeed!" replied Sir ----; "but my hope is, Chandos, that
we may not be driven to a law-suit, if we can accumulate sufficient
proofs to alarm the opposite party. Take some of that Sillery, and do
not let what I am going to say startle you. Mark me well, however. You
have your brother's life in your hands. As soon as he has time to
think, he will perceive, from the course of defence pursued on your
trial, that such is the case--that a foundation is already laid,
indeed, for building up a truth that would destroy him--that you have
nothing to do but to say in the ear of Justice, 'I would not let my
counsel defend me at the expense of a brother's life,' and to prove
that Lockwood was mistaken for you, in order to render your evidence
conclusive against him. These are terrible weapons, it is true; and I
would not have you use them even in menace, unless it be established
to your full conviction that your brother has destroyed your father's
last will, or has concealed it. Then, I think, you will be justified
in demanding that right be done you, in terms which cannot be
mistaken. But I do not think he has destroyed the will. Men seldom
dare to commit great crimes unless under the influence of hasty
passion--when lesser ones will serve their purpose. I think the will
is concealed; and if we can prove the clauses distinctly, I doubt not,
under all the circumstances, a search will be made for it, and it will
be found. Look here at a train of evidence that would not be pleasant
for your brother to have brought forward in a court, even though you
used no menace in reference to the terrible facts within your own
knowledge. I am already prepared to prove that Mr. Roberts came over
to Northferry to inform you of his having found the memorandum I have
mentioned; that your brother was at Mr. Tracy's house at the time;
that some one, hearing the appearance of a gentleman, entered the
house by the most private entrance, immediately after the murder; that
it was not yourself, Mr. Tracy, or his brother; that the only person
who could be injured by the tale Mr. Roberts had to tell was Sir
William Winslow. Do you not think, Chandos, that he must have a
consciousness that there are a thousand circumstances likely to be
brought out in any trial, which would render the train of evidence
complete against him, and bring the heavy hand of justice on his head,
even if you should remain silent? Depend upon it, if he have not
destroyed the will, he will speedily find it, as soon as you have
collected all the proofs of its having existed, and been in his
possession; and if he have destroyed it, and you can show what were
its provisions, that he will concede them all, rather than incur a
suit which must entail disclosures tending to consequences more fatal.
It is on this account that I advise you to go down at once, while he
is still absent, and collect all the information you can get. But, in
the very first place, you must enter a protest against the sale of
Winslow Abbey."
"I understood that it was already sold, and the money paid," replied
Chandos.
"Two-thirds of the money have been paid, I hear," replied the
barrister, "upon an undertaking, under Sir William's hand, to complete
the transfer within a given time. But still the transfer is
incomplete; and you must show, by a caveat, that you are not a
consenting party, so as to guard against even the semblance of laches
on your side. Get your protest drawn up in due form by a solicitor
to-morrow, have it laid before counsel for an opinion, and furnish
both _vendor_ and _emptor_ with a copy; then set out again upon your
voyage of discovery, and let me know the result. Linger not here, fond
youth, by the side of beauty; but away, in search of that which, in
the present day alone, can unchain Andromeda from the rock. Depend
upon it, my dear Winslow, that pretty fable of the lady upon the
sea-shore, and the Gorgon-slaying Perseus, has a very unpoetic
interpretation. Andromeda is the representative of a fashionable young
lady; the rock, the hard state of single blessedness to which her
parents chain her, in default of a suitable match; the sea-monster
destined to devour her, old maidenism; and Perseus, a rich
East-Indian, very bilious, who, with the sword of wealth, slays the
monster, and frees the damsel from her chains, to marry her himself.
And now let us empty that bottle of Sillery, and have another; for
alas! in the life that I lead, I am forced to combat corporal weakness
with that which saps corporal strength; and wine versus weariness is
the cause I am trying every day."
Chandos Winslow remained till a few minutes after ten, and then
proceeded, not to the inn which he had tenanted the night before, but
to his new abode in Cork Street. What a contrast! Damask curtains, gay
coloured carpets, polished mahogany, shining fire-irons, clean walls,
and a bright fire! But the contrast was not greater than between his
own mood that night and the mood of the night preceding. The words of
his friend had relighted the lamp of Hope, of which the everlasting
fire of Vesta was but a faint image.