Those who have remained any time in Dorchester or its neighborhood
will know that within a circle of not many miles' diameter around that
town, there are many spots to be found as wild and solitary as in any
part of the island of Great Britain; on the side of Weymouth
especially, there are some scenes in the midst of which one might
fancy one's self very far removed, indeed, from the high cultivation
which closely surrounds them. In the days of James the Second, when
agriculture, as a science, had made very little advance upon the
knowledge possessed by the Anglo-Saxons, and when cultivation had
spread but slowly under the influence of a great many deterring
causes, these solitary spots were, of course, more numerous in all
counties of England; and it was upon one of these in Dorsetshire, not
very many miles distant from the capital of the county, that was built
an ancient, fortified house, dating probably from two centuries
before. It was placed upon an eminence overhanging a river, brief in
its course, and utterly unimportant till it reached a point about five
miles from its mouth, where it widened out into a creek or narrow bay
of salt water, which afforded a convenient refuge for fishing-boats.
Near a spot where the first considerable extension of the banks of the
stream took place, a sort of sandy bar had formed itself, marking the
navigable from the unnavigable water, and it was just at this point
that the house, or castle as it was called, had been built. I will
name the river the Orme; and from it and the sandy bar I have
mentioned, the house had derived the name of Orme-bar Castle.
The ground around was covered with smooth, green turf, or short, but
rich grass, disposed in easy undulations, and watered by many a clear
and beautiful stream, and such a thing as a hedgerow or a wall was not
to be seen for some miles round the inclosure of the park. It was a
gloomy-looking building too, consisting of tall, wide, irregular
masses of masonry, put together any how; and one could easily see from
the outside, from the numerous and very much varied windows, and from
the irregular distribution of the chimneys about the house, that in
searching for any room within, one might have a real journey to go, in
order to reach a door hard by.
It was in this curious old building, and amid the solitary scene
around, that a little party had met together on the night of
Margaret's visit to Hortensia. The kitchen and the hall were well
tenanted--better, indeed, than they had been for many a year--for a
large household had been transported there from a distant part of the
country, and two or three old servants, who had remained for years in
the place, were added to those who had freshly arrived. But in a
large, curious, old-fashioned hall above, only three persons were
seated at the hour of sunset. They were a mother and her two sons, and
they grouped themselves together near the window, not to watch the
passing away of the western light, but upon business which two of
them, at least, considered of no light importance. In the midst, on a
tall, high-backed, velvet-covered chair, with a foot-stool under her
feet, sat old Lady Coldenham. Her eldest son was on her right hand,
looking somewhat listlessly out toward the sea, in a direction where
the tower of a little church was just visible over the slope of the
ground. His arm was thrown over the back of the chair, his head
leaning somewhat on one side, and his whole figure disposed in an
attitude of graceful idleness. On the other side appeared his brother
Robert, with a very different air. He leaned rather forward than
otherwise, with his right hand resting on his knee, and his eyes fixed
on his mother, as if watching for some oracular word from her lips.
At length, as the day began to grow dim, Robert inquired, "Shall I
call for lights, madam?"
"No," replied Lady Coldenham; "I love this sort of light--ay, and
enjoy seeing the stars come out one by one, when darkness resumes her
sway over the earth like a powerful monarch triumphing in stern, proud
serenity over some weak and glittering pretender who had disputed his
sway. Besides, Robert, it is full as well to talk of all we have to
notice under the shadow."
She paused, and relapsed into silence again; and then, when the sky
was nearly dark, she said, "You have done your part well, Robert; and
now we must make sure that the blow goes home. You have lodged him in
prison as you promised--but he must die."
"I think you may leave that to the care of the good old lord," replied
Robert. "He is as eager for his blood as a hound for the blood of a
deer."
"I will leave it to no one with entire trust," replied Lady Coldenham;
"too much depends upon him to have any thing risked upon the conduct
of a blundering old man, or a heedless, inattentive lawyer."
"I wonder what poor Ralph has done," said Lord Coldenham, breaking
silence for the first time during a quarter of an hour, "to make you
two so bitterly his enemies. One pursues him like a blood-hound, and
the other says he must die."
Lady Coldenham fixed her large dark eyes upon him with a look of angry
astonishment; but the young lord had long been growing somewhat
restive, and he repeated, "I wonder what he has done, I say--what is
his fault, I should like to know?"
"He is his father's son," said Lady Coldenham, with stern emphasis.
"I did not know that that was any greater crime than being
one's mother's son, but rather thought it a virtue," said Lord
Coldenham, with a light laugh; "as to the father, I don't see much
harm in him any more than in Ralph. He is a very good sort of old
gentleman--rather pedantic, it is true, but not much the worse for
that. Shrews, pedants, and libertines are, I suppose, necessary evils
in our state of society; and as I don't approve of persecuting them, I
think I had better leave this somewhat intolerant council, and amuse
myself elsewhere."
As he spoke, he rose; but Lady Coldenham exclaimed, in a fierce, stern
voice, "Sit down, Lord Coldenham!"
"No, indeed, dear mother," replied the young lord, "I can employ
myself better. There is Robert, who is peculiarly fond of either
sitting or running--which was it you did at Sedgemoor, Bob! I am too
active for the one, and too idle for the other; and so, with your
blessing, I will walk."
Lady Coldenham eyed him with an expression of anger, surprise, and
contempt, which could hardly be described; but the young lord had
chosen his part, and, though idle enough in his habits, he was
resolute. His mother's look nettled him a little too, and he said, in
a cool but determined tone, "In a word, dear lady and mother, I am of
age, I think, and master, at least, of my own actions. I do not desire
particularly to be master even of my own house, as long as it has got
so much better a master in it; but I will not be here consenting to
things that I disapprove and dislike, let it cost what it may."
"Hark, you, Coldenham!" cried his mother, as he moved toward the door;
"a word in your ear, if you please."
He bent down his head, listening gravely; and the lady whispered
something to him, gradually raising her voice till the last words
became distinct and audible enough. They were, "And leave you a beggar
and an outcast at a word."
"Do it!" said Lord Coldenham, with the most indifferent tone in the
world, and quietly sauntered out of the room. Lady Coldenham shut her
teeth tight together, and the violent emotion that was going on within
might be seen by the close clinching of her beautiful white hands as
they lay upon her knee; but she made no comment, and, perhaps, was
sorry for the words she uttered. They had not escaped the ears of
Robert Woodhall; and he might build upon them some strange
expectations. But he was wisely silent; and, after a very long pause,
Lady Coldenham resumed the conversation, saying, "Let us think no more
of that foolish boy's caprices. You are a rational being, Robert. Tell
me what you think of this case. Are we certain of getting a
condemnation?"
"Really, I do not know, dear lady," he answered, and then added, with
some emphasis, "that must depend upon the judge and the jury."
"They must both be taken care of," said Lady Coldenham, slowly nodding
her head. "I will crave an audience of his lordship when he first
arrives. He will not refuse me. You must see to the jury, Robert; and
if the youth be really guilty, there surely can be no great difficulty
in proving him so. Tell me, upon your honor and soul, do you really
think he committed the deed?"
"Upon my honor and soul I do," replied Robert Woodhall; and for once
in his life he spoke the truth. Nay, more, he carried his frankness
further, adding, "But I do not doubt that it was all done fairly.
Ralph, I have heard, was reputed the best fencer in his college, and
the best quarter-staff man in all Lincolnshire. Three or four passes
would soon settle the matter with Henry, without any foul play. That
letter of Henry's, too, written with his absurd generosity, clears
away all suspicious circumstance. That is the worst point of the case
against us for juries are not fond of condemning men for duels where
no unfairness is proved."
"Can not the letter be suppressed?" inquired his mother.
Her son shook his head; and she went on to ask, "Is it in Lord
Woodhall's hands?"
"No, in the Duke of Norfolk's," answered her son; "he gave the old
lord a copy, but he kept the original."
"This is frightful!" said the old lady, in an under tone. "He will
escape us yet: the only chance is with the jury, Robert. There must be
two or three sturdy men found among them who will starve the others
out and get us a verdict--Hark! there are horses' feet! that must be
the old lord himself. He promised to bring a great lawyer with him,
who will enter into our views. But mind, be not too rash--speak not
too plainly, boy; for these men sometimes take fire when their own
image is shown them in too perfect a glass, and they assume a fresh
honesty but to show us that our thoughts of them were calumnious."
"No fear of my being too rash," replied Robert Woodhall. "Besides, I
shall apply myself principally to this business with Margaret. It
seemed to me the old lord wavered before her steadiness; but I will
not be kept in suspense. I will know at once whether he intends to
keep his oath or not."
"There is business on hand," said Lady Coldenham, very gravely, "more
serious than any pretty painted puppet in the world."
"Ay; but the estates, mother!" said her son.
"True," she answered, "true--the estates;" and, at the same moment,
Lord Woodhall entered the room, followed by a man in dark clothing,
whom he presented to Lady Coldenham as Counselor Armitage.
The conversation was led at once to the predominant subject in the
thoughts of all; and was discussed for some time, principally by Lord
Woodhall, Robert, and Lady Coldenham, who stated briefly but
distinctly the new-born fears of failure which her son's previous
words had suggested.
The lawyer, who had listened attentively, but had spoken little, now
interposed, saying, "Do not be afraid, Lady Coldenham; we will take
care that justice shall be done; and if, through the weakness of a
jury, it could not be done in one way, it would be done in another. It
matters little for the true cause of justice what are the means
employed so that the end be favorable to herself. We will reach him,
depend upon it. Let him attempt to conceal the facts if he will and if
he can. The case of the slaughter once clearly proved against him, we
must overcome the scruples of the jury--and, if not, it does not much
matter."
"Does not much matter?" said Lady Coldenham, with a stare; "I do not
understand you, sir."
"I am instructed for the crown, Lady Coldenham, and that is the reason
why a great number do not understand me," replied Mr. Armitage, with a
slight smile at what he imagined to be a jest; "all I can say is, you
shall be satisfied, and this good lord too. The young man has
evidently committed a great crime, and it shall not be the foolish
lenity of a jury that shall save him."
"No, I trust there is no chance of that," said old Lord Woodhall. "He
killed my son, and I will have justice. Now I have found him, I will
never leave him till I have justice. I am an old man to take such a
journey as this from London to Dorchester in three days; but the
spirit that brought me down here will support me to follow him all
over the world till I have justice upon his head."
"There will be plenty to second you, my noble lord," said Robert
Woodhall. "I, for one, can not rest satisfied so long as this man is
with me on the earth; for it is very clear to me, now, that I never
shall have the love of my promised bride so long as he lives."
Lord Woodhall was silent; and Robert Woodhall, finding that his
indirect mode of proceeding produced no reply, asked boldly, "If she
persists in her refusal, what do you intend to do, my lord?"
"Keep my word, young man," replied the old lord, dryly; and then
turning to Lady Coldenham, he inquired, "Where is your eldest son,
madam? I thought to find him here."
"Oh, never mind him," replied Lady Coldenham. "He is in the house; but
can see, with his idle whims, he is more likely to spoil all than to
help in any thing. He is better out of the way. As to Margaret," she
continued, "you must let me see her, my good lord. Women can often
find means of persuasion when men fail."
"See her if you like, Lady Coldenham," replied the old lord, "but it
will make little difference. I have pledged my word, and it shall be
kept. She must obey. But as to your son, I am sorry he goes not with
us in this business. What is the reason?"
"Oh, none," replied Lady Coldenham; "old affection for this young man,
I believe. Depend upon it, he is better out of our councils; and
now, sir," she continued, turning to Mr. Armitage, "will you explain
to me clearly how the case stands, what are its chances, and what
remains to be done to make chances secure? Remember, I am accustomed
to deal with lawyers, and will not be put off with ambiguities."
She had hardly uttered these words in a stern, masculine tone, when a
loud voice--rich, and deep, and full--was heard, saying, "Beware! Once
more I tell you, Catharine, beware!"
The three gentlemen looked round, for the speaker seemed to be in the
room but no one was to be seen; and Robert's voice; soon called
attention another way, as he exclaimed, "Good God! my mother has
fainted."
It was long before Lady Coldenham could be brought to herself; and for
a time those who surrounded her thought she was dead, so still and
breathless did she lie, and so cold did her hands become. Lord
Coldenham was sent for in haste; but he could not be found; and the
only intelligence that could be obtained regarding him was, that he
had been seen speaking to a tall old gentleman in the gate-way, and
that shortly after he had ordered his horse and ridden away.
The attempts to recall Lady Coldenham to life at length proved
successful; but she was in no state to continue the conversation, and
the party separated, Robert Woodhall promising to visit his noble
relation on the following day.