I TRAVEL TO CARLISLE AND MEET AN ATTORNEY.
It was a lonely business whereto I now was set, but in truth it is
lonelier in the recollection than it was in the actual happening. As I
sit over my fire here on a winter's night, I begin at times to wonder
how I went through with it. I remember the incessant moaning of the
sea,--for I followed my old plan, only with a greater precaution, and
kept along the coast until I was nigh upon Whitehaven--and discover a
loneliness in the thought that it was carrying Dorothy from me to
France; I find, too, an overwhelming desolation in the knowledge that
she and I had spoken the last good-bye, and a melancholy atop of that
in the cheerfulness of our parting. But these notions are but the moss
that gathers upon recollections. The sea brought no loneliness home to
me,--rather it crooned of Dorothy's safety, nor was I conscious then
of any desolation in the knowledge that my eyes would not again
rejoice in the sight of her, for that very parting raised me out of my
slough more nearly to her level; and as for the cheerfulness--why,
just in that way would I have had her part from me. I believe, indeed,
that I was more sensible of her presence on that journey from
Ravenglass to Carlisle than ever I had been, even when her voice was
in my ears or the knocking of her shoes upon the stones.
Moreover, there were two very immediate questions which pressed upon
me, and saved me from much unprofitable rumination about myself.
Dorothy had spoken of Anthony Herbert "waiting his trial," when she
herself was in Carlisle, and that was over a month ago. Was he still
waiting, or was the trial over? I had no means of resolving that
question, and many a night I lay awake in some barn or outhouse,
blowing on my frozen fingers to keep them warm, and casting up the
probabilities. I was thus in a perpetual fever lest, after all, my
intentions should be thwarted by a too late arrival. And to make the
matter worse, I was compelled to practise every precaution, lest I
should be recognized. Of which there was, to my thinking, no small
danger, for in the first place my flight from Blackladies had made, as
I knew, some noise in these parts, and moreover I had ridden openly on
the march to Preston.
So here was my second question: Could I reach Carlisle a free man? for
that I deemed to be an altogether necessary and integral part of my
design. Once a captive, I was foredoomed already upon my own account,
and any plea that I might urge on behalf of Anthony Herbert would win
the less credit, since it would be made at no cost whatever to me who
made it. If, however, I could come undetected there, and so give
myself up, why, the voluntary relinquishment of life might haply be
taken as a guarantee and surety for my word. Consequently I was
reduced to a thousand shifts to avoid attention; I went miles about to
come upon a solitary inn, and more often than not, when I reached it,
my heart would fail me, and I would take to my heels in a panic, or at
best gulp down the hastiest meal, and pulling my coat about my ears,
front the cold night again. It was then a good twelve days after the
_Swallow_ had lifted anchor and sailed down the coast, that I crept
one dusky evening through the Botcher Gate into Carlisle; and what
with the fear of capture and the fevers of delay, the endless fatigue
to which during these many weeks I had been exposed and the
inclemencies of the season, you may be sure I was in a sufficiently
pitiable condition. I repaired at once to the market-place, and
picking out the most insignificant tavern, learnt therein, over a
glass of brandy from my host, that I was as much as a week in advance
of my time. The news was an indescribable relief to me; and going out,
I hired a mean lodging in a little street near the Horse Market, where
I would lie that night, and determine on my course. For since I had
yet a week, I thought that I might dispose of some portion of that
time to the best advantage, by discovering the particulars of the
charge which Anthony Herbert would have to meet. In which task I
did not anticipate a very great difficulty, inferring, from what
Dorothy had told me, that, what with the speculation his picture had
given rise to, I should find his case a matter of common gossip.
Accordingly, in the morning I bought at a dealer's a suit of clothes
which would befit an apprentice, and tying my own hair in a cheap
ribbon, which I was able to do, since I had discarded a peruke for
convenience' sake after I left Blackladies, and changing my boots for
a pair of shoes, I walked across the town towards the castle, in the
hope that, either amongst the loiterers at the gates, or in the meadow
by the river, I might discover something to my purpose.
In this Fortune favoured me, for though I learned little or nothing
upon the first day, about three o'clock of the afternoon upon the
second, while I stood in the open space betwixt the castle and the
town, a little brisk gentleman came stepping from the gate-house and
glanced at every one he passed with a great air of penetration, as who
should say, "My friend, you have no secrets from me." He shot the same
glance at me, though with more indifference, as though from habit he
would practise it upon any who came in his way, be they mere
apprentices. It was he, however, who was the one to be discomposed.
For up went his eyebrows on the instant and his mouth gaped. He did
not, however, stop, but rather quickened his pace and passed me. A few
yards away he stopped to exchange a word with an acquaintance, but I
noticed that he cast now and again a furtive glance towards me. My
curiosity was fairly aroused, and being reluctant to lose any occasion
that might serve me, I drew nearer and loitered in his vicinity until
such time as the conversation should have ended.
Dismissing his acquaintance, he turned of a sudden.
"It is a disappointing place--Carlisle," he began abruptly; "the grass
grows in the streets, which, I take it, are the dirtiest outside
Bagdad, and the houses, what with their laths and clay and thatch, are
as little reputable to the eye."
I knew not what in the world to make of this strange beginning, and so
stared at the man in perplexity.
"You will have been sorely disappointed," he suggested, "for I am told
that, on the contrary, the streets of Preston are very clean and
spacious, and the houses built with some taste."
"It seems you know me," said I, starting forward.
"It has almost that air," he replied with a spice of mockery; "I have
known more effectual disguises than an apron and a pair of brass
buckles. But, indeed, had you dirtied your face, as you unwisely
omitted to do, I should have known you none the less."
He stood with his head cocked on one side, enjoying my mystification.
"I have no doubt, sir, of your discernment and penetration," said I,
thinking to humour him; "but since I cannot call to mind that you and
I have ever met----"
He came a step nearer to me, and with a roundabout glance, to see that
no listener was within earshot:
"There is a pretty unmistakable likeness of you yonder"--he jerked his
head towards the castle--"though maybe the expression wants repose;
moreover, I could not hear that you were taken prisoner, and so was
inclined to expect you here."
"Then who in the world are you?" I exclaimed.
"Mr. Nicholas Doyle," said he, "and a lawyer of too much repute to be
seen publicly hobnobbing with a rascally apprentice without questions
asked. So if you please, you will just walk behind me until I come to
my house, and when I go in at the front door you will slink round to
the back."
These directions I followed, and was shown up the stairs to the first
floor, whereupon Mr. Doyle locked the door and drew a screen before
the keyhole.
"Now, Mr.--Mr. Whitemen, shall we say?--for though your face is little
known, your name has been heard here--I may offer you a chair;" which
he did, drawing it politely to the fire, and therewith offered me his
snuff-box, but "without prejudice to his politics," as he said. For
"none of your scatterbrained, romantical flim-flam for me," said he.
"An honest Whig, my dear sir. By the way," and his eyes twinkled
slyly, "I trust you did not find my staircase very dark?"
I was not in the humour to take any great pleasure in his witticism,
as may be imagined, and I replied simply--
"You know the whole story, then?"
"Part the husband told me," said he, nodding his head, "part the wife.
I pieced it together."
"The wife!" I exclaimed. "Then Mrs. Herbert is here--at Carlisle?"
"Doubtless," he returned; "where else?"
"I did not know," said I.
It was Mr. Doyle's turn to look surprised.
"But," said he, "she left word for you at Keswick. It was for that
reason I told you I was not greatly surprised to come upon you."
"Nay," said I, "I have not been to Keswick. I learnt Anthony Herbert
was here--well, from other sources. But," and I started forward
eagerly in my chair, "Herbert must then have sent for her;" and I
spoke joyfully enough, for of late, and in particular since I had
known where Herbert lay, I had begun to reflect that, after all, his
enlargement, could that be brought about, did not altogether patch up
the trouble.
"No," answered Mr. Doyle; "Herbert only talked of her. I sent for
her."
"I may thank you for that," said I. "They are reconciled?"
"It is a delicate point," said he, "how far. My client, it appears,
was persuaded by that worthy gentleman, Jervas Rookley, that--well,
that there were more solid grounds for his jealousy than actually
existed. It is true Rookley has shown something of his hand, but not
all of it. We are in the dark as to his motives, and Mr.
Herbert--well, doubtless you have some notion of the whimsies of a man
in love. Now he is in the depths of abasement, now he is very haughty
on the summits of pride. A man in love! My dear sir, a man in love is
very like a leg of mutton on my roasting-jack in the kitchen. First he
spins this way, then he spins that, and always he is in the extremity
of heat whichever way he spins. He is like the mutton, too, in his
lack of sense, and in the losing of the fat; and very often, when he
is roasted through and through, my lady serves him up for the
delectation of her friends. Believe me, Mr. Clavering"--he checked
himself, but the name was out of his mouth--"when next you figure on
the jack, you will do well to bear in mind my simile. A leg of mutton,
my dear sir."
Now, I had good reason to find his simile uncommonly distasteful, the
more because I had a like reason for knowing it to be unjust; and,
perhaps with more heat than was needed, I answered--
"For my part, I have no objection----"
"To a man in love!" said he, taking me up. "Nor I, indeed. On the
contrary, I hold him in the greatest esteem, not so much, perhaps, for
his falling in love, as for his consequent falling out of it, whereby
comes much profitable litigation."
"Well," said I, anxious to put an end to his discourse, "your advice,
Mr. Doyle, may be the best in the world; but you offer it to a man who
will never find occasion for pursuing it." And at that his face became
grave. "Let us get to the root of the matter. You tell me Jervas
Rookley has shown his hand. In what way?"
"Why, he is to be the chief witness for the crown. It was he who laid
the information against Herbert. And, you will observe, he is a strong
witness. For what object had he in view, if he did not believe the
information? What had he to gain?"
"I will not say that he did not believe it," I returned; "I will not
say that he does not believe it. But I know very well what he has to
gain, and that is, the estate of Blackladies."
And I told the lawyer of the double game which Rookley had played.
"One way or another, whichever king sat the throne, he was to recover
the estate," I continued. "If the Hanoverian won, why, I was to be
exchanged for it; but since he thinks I have slipped through his
fingers, he will be eager to make Herbert my substitute."
"Yes," said the lawyer, thoughtfully; "but there will be only your
bare word for this."
"But I shall have sacrificed my life to speak it," I said anxiously.
For this very point had greatly troubled me.
"No doubt that will carry weight," he assented, "but enough--I do not
know. It will, however, serve to bring about that reconciliation which
seems so to weigh with you. Look! There is a copy of the indictment;"
and running over to a bureau, he brought it back and thrust it into my
hands.
I read it through carefully, from the beginning to the end.
"You will see," said he, "that no direct act is alleged beyond the
possession of that medal."
"That is mine," said I.
"Can you prove it?" said he. "It was found in Mr. Herbert's
apartments."
I thought for a moment, and with a cry sprang to my feet:
"Indeed I can," I cried; "I can prove it" And I told him how.
"Good!" he exclaimed, in a voice which topped my own; and then--
"Hush!" he whispered, in the greatest reproach; "you should have more
discretion, you should indeed." And very cautiously he unlocked the
door, and then flung it violently open. The landing, however, was
clear.
"You see, Mr. Whitemen, there is much we have to fight against apart
from the charges. There is the apparent honesty of Mr. Rookley, and
moreover there is this rebellion which calls for examples, and you may
add to our difficulties a Cumberland jury. You will remember that we
marched out against you at Penrith, four thousand strong. That will
teach you the temper of the county."
"I do not remember," I replied, "that your four thousand stayed to
exchange opinions with us."
Nicholas Doyle laughed good-naturedly.
"It is a hit, I will not deny," said he. "But what if they hold to the
plan, and decline to exchange opinions when they are in the jury-box,
eh, my friend? what then? So you see there are dangers. With your help
we may just save my client, but it will be by no more than the skin of
his teeth. Without you we may as well submit to a sentence at the
outset. But," and he spoke with a voice of the deepest gravity, "all
this, which makes your evidence of the greatest value to us, renders
it fatal to you. I do not mince words; I set the truth frankly before
you. Your evidence may serve Mr. Herbert's turn,--but there is no more
than a chance of that--it will most certainly send you to an
ignominious death. Every word you will speak will be a plea of guilty.
And mark you, there is but one punishment for treason. It will be no
stepping on to a scaffold, and reading a few protestations, and
kneeling down at the block, as though you just condescended to leave
the world. No, you will be drawn through the streets, trussed hand and
foot, on a hurdle. Then they will hang you--for a bit, but not until
you are dead. Then they will light a fire and take a knife to you--and
it will seem, I fear me, a weary while before the end is reached!"
"Good God!" I interrupted him, and snatched up my hat. "Do you wish me
to leave your client precisely to that same fate?"
"Where are you going?" he asked in an incredulous tone, noticing my
movement.
"To Carlisle Castle," said I.
"I thought as much," said he, and took me by the arm. "I doubt if I
should have said so much to you, had I not felt certain it would not
weigh with you. But you are young, Mr. Clavering, very young; and
though I must count you a traitor, and deserving all this punishment,
I could not send you to that fate without you had counted up the
cost."
"That is kindly said," I replied, and offered him my hand, which he
shook very cordially. "But less than a fortnight ago I stood upon the
sea-shore with never a soul in view and a ship's boat on the beach and
a ship spreading its sails to set me over into France. I am not like
to be turned aside now."
He looked at me with a certain shrewdness in his eyes.
"This is a reparation which you purpose? A man of the world would tell
you there was no necessity for it."
"But you do not say that?" I returned.
"I say," and he paused for a second--"I say damn women!" he cried, and
brought his fist down upon the table.
"Even in that amiable sentiment I cannot agree with you," I answered
with a laugh. "And so I will make a call upon the Governor of the
castle."
But again he caught me by the arm.
"That would be the ruin of both of you. The Crown presses for an
example to be made. And Jervas Rookley, I think, from what you
yourself have said, will move heaven and earth to keep you out of
court. If you go now to the castle, there is little likelihood of your
giving evidence for Mr. Herbert; he must produce you at the trial, and
not a moment before."
Thereupon he recommended to me to lie quietly in my lodging during the
week, and come not out except to see him now and again of a night. At
his bidding, indeed, I repaired to his house on the following evening,
and found a tailor there waiting for me. "For," said Mr. Doyle, "we
must make the most of our advantages, though my heart aches at
dressing you up for the slaughter. But it will make a difference
whether a lad in an apron and brass buckles gives himself up, or a
proper young gentleman, with an air of means and dignity. Your word
will gain credit with the jury. Lord! what a sight we shall have in
the spectacle of Jervas Rookley's face. By the way," and he turned
towards me with a certain customary abruptness, "Jervas Rookley's face
has something changed since I set eyes on it before."
"Indeed," said I, indifferently; "and in what way?"
"It is marred by a scar."
"A scar!" I cried, with considerable satisfaction. "On the right side?
It should stretch from the cheek bone to the chin."
"It does," answered Mr. Doyle, dryly. "I wonder how he came by it?"
"Yes, I wonder," said I, reflectively, and chancing to look at each
other, our eyes met, and we laughed.
"I think it very wise," said he, "that you did not surrender yourself
to the Governor of Carlisle Castle."
This week passed monotonously enough for me, cooped up in my little
apartment. But I had a great hope to cheer me through its passage.
For, I had come so near to the attainment of my one end, and in the
face of so many difficulties, that I could not but believe that
Providence had so willed it, and having willed so much, would will
that final issue which should crown the work; moreover, two days
before the trial, Mr. Doyle brought me news which enheartened me
inexpressibly. It was a message of thanks from Anthony Herbert, and to
that message was added another from the wife, which showed me that the
reconciliation had become an actual fact.
On the eve of the trial I slept at the house of Mr. Doyle. Indeed,
from his window I heard the trumpeters, and saw the judge's carriage
go by; and so dressing myself the next morning in my new suit, with
Mr. Doyle fluttering about me like a lady's maid, I made my way
quickly to the Guildhall.