In the same cell in Dorchester jail which had first received Ralph
Woodhall after his capture, sat Gaunt Stilling on the evening
succeeding the events which I have mentioned. He was heavily ironed;
but he had a light--a lantern fixed upon the wall at a considerable
distance above his head, and by its rays, feeble as they were, he was
reading a small book very closely printed. One passage seemed to
interest him much, for he read it over three or four times. It
contained a curious and somewhat subtle argument, translated from the
Italian, concerning the lawfulness of certain actions according to the
circumstances in which men are placed, and it ended in a quotation in
Latin of the well-known epitaph of Cardinal Brundusinus:
"Excessi è vitæ ærumnis facilisque lubensque
Ne perjora ipsa morte dehinc videam."
He was interrupted before he could go further by the entrance of the
chief turnkey, who took especial care to look along the passages
before he entered, and then closed the door securely behind him.
"Has the parson come?" asked Stilling, raising his head suddenly.
"No," replied the turnkey: "not yet, Gaunt; but I want to have a
little talk with you; and I have brought the light irons, for these
are too heavy."
"I care not for them," answered Stilling: "what matters it to me
whether they are fight or heavy? Do you suppose I am going to try to
escape?"
"No, no, Master Stilling," said the turnkey, "we must have no more
escapes."
"Ay," said Gaunt Stilling; "yet I could frighten you into opening that
door and letting me out in five minutes."
The turnkey shook his head.
"What! not if I could prove you received eighty pounds out of the
three hundred and fifty?"
"You can't prove that," said the turnkey, with a grin.
"You are mistaken," replied Gaunt Stilling. "Every piece was marked in
the presence of a witness, and five of them which you spent are easily
to be found. There is not one of you--of all the five who shared the
money--that is not just as much in my power as I am in yours. If it
depended upon my word, that might be nothing; but remember, there are
several others in the business, who are now free enough to bear
testimony."
"But you are too honorable a man to 'peach," said the turnkey, a good
deal frightened.
"Honorable!" said Gaunt Stilling, with a scoff; "but no matter. I
don't want to escape, Master Blackstone. I can die one day as well as
another, and I do not know any day this last twelvemonth in which I
should not have been quite ready to go. Hanging is not unpleasant,
they tell me; and, at all events, it must be a great deal better than
lying for weeks in a sick-bed, and then going out like the end of a
candle."
"I am glad you think so," said the jailer, dryly. "But come, Master
Stilling, give me your word of honor that you will not 'peach of us.
You know it was only at your request, and because you were an old
friend, that we did what we did."
"You have forgotten the three hundred and fifty golden Jacobuses,"
said Gaunt Stilling, with a laugh. "Well, well, I must have a better
room, and that to-night. I must have a better light, and that
speedily. I must have a pen and ink, and paper, to write with. I must
have a bottle of wine and cold chicken for the parson. It's a long
time till the assizes, and I must make myself comfortable."
The turnkey rubbed his head and thought for a moment, for his
predicament was somewhat unpleasant. "The best I can do for you
to-night, Master Stilling," he said, "is to put you in the little room
in the third ward. It has got a good planked floor, and a fire-place.
You'll be out of my district, but I'll tell you who has got the keys.
It is Jones Barstow--you'll recollect him, I dare say--a green hand,
mighty fond of strong waters, which, when he gets enough of them, send
him sound to sleep. The governor doesn't put many capitals there, for
fear Barstow should let them out--he's such a soft one! But I'll speak
with the governor, and get it done for you."
"Very well," answered Stilling; "set about it quick; and remember, I
shall look to you, Master Blackstone, for every thing I want."
"In reason--in reason," said the turnkey, and went his way.
The governor made some objections; for, although Barstow, being a
distant cousin of his wife's, enjoyed his favor, yet he had but little
confidence in him, and Stilling had been represented to him as a
resolute, desperate fellow, requiring the strictest watch. The head
turnkey overcame his scruples, however, representing that the man had
no thought of escape, and adding "that he seemed to think hanging
rather pleasant than otherwise."
"Wait till he tries it," said the governor, laughing. "However, if you
are sure of him, put him there. I don't mind."
In about half an hour Gaunt Stilling was in a more comfortable room,
and in a few minutes after Doctor M'Feely was admitted to him.
"Ah, young man, young man," said the good doctor, "this is a sad pass
you've brought yourself to. You go on your own way all your life, and
then you send for the parson."
"Sit down, doctor," said Gaunt Stilling, with a look so much gayer
than any which Doctor M'Feely had seen upon his countenance when last
they met, that the worthy clergyman was both surprised and grieved.
Nor was his mind much relieved when Gaunt Stilling went on to say, "I
didn't send for you, doctor for the purposes you imagine. I dare
say you think I am sorry for what I have done; but there you are
mistaken--or that I'm afraid of being hanged; but there you're
mistaken again."
"You'll be hanged as sure as a gun, and no help for it, my dear boy,"
said Doctor M'Feely; "I'll bet you a bottle of it, and let the longest
liver drink it."
"I know I shall be hanged," answered Gaunt Stilling; "but what I sent
for you for was, that you might take down the whole particulars of
every thing that has happened, exactly as it did happen. I am
determined to save judge, and jury, and lawyers all sorts of trouble,
and I sha'n't give the hangman much either. You've got that paper I
sent you. You behaved like an honest man about that, though I believe
the law would have had you give it up."
"Well, well, perhaps it might," said the doctor; "but the paper didn't
tell much, young man: it only said you killed poor Henry Woodhall in
mistake, and that Master Ralph was never back in Norwich that night;
but not a word did you say about how it all happened."
"Well, I'll tell you now," replied Gaunt Stilling; "so take your paper
and write down my confession; then I will sign it, and you shall
witness it."
Doctor M'Feely seated himself at the table, dipped the pen in the
ink, and dated the paper, saying quietly, "Don't make it too long,
lad--about the length of a sermon will do."
"You shall have a bottle of wine and a chicken when you've done,"
replied Gaunt Stilling.
"The wine I don't mind," answered the doctor, "but as for the chicken,
I've no stomach. The sight of all the passages, and locks, and bolts,
and you here in the middle of them, has taken away my appetite; so
fire away, my boy, and make haste."
"Young Robert Ratcliffe," said Gaunt Stilling, leaning his head upon
his hand, "who always passed for the lawful son of Lord Coldenham--"
"There's another pretty affair!" cried Doctor M'Feely. "Who would ever
have thought that that proud old woman was a ---- whew!"
"Never mind her," said Gaunt Stilling; "bad the crow, bad the egg. Put
that down. Young Robert Ratcliffe, who passed for Lord Coldenham's
lawful son, was an insolent, profligate fellow. He had done much
mischief in the village; and when I returned from Tangier, I found him
often coming to our house, and seeing my sister Catharine--poor
unhappy girl, I came too late! I warned him off--told him I would not
have him there, and gave him fair notice I would beat him if he
came--punish him if he wronged my sister. My father had been foolish
enough to think he would marry her, because she was handsome and well
taught, and he had a hold upon the old woman by knowing her secrets.
The young man one day, too, said that he would marry her; and that was
the poor girl's ruin. I knew better than to believe such nonsense, and
opened my father's eyes at length, so that he was as eager to move her
out of the way of temptation as I was, and we agreed to bring her here
to our relations in Dorset. My uncle met her half way, and she was
kept secure enough from that time. But her shame soon became apparent;
and when I came over from Norwich to see her, there was no longer any
concealment. I had promised revenge, and I resolved to take it. But it
was needful to wait my time, when, as if good fortune would have it,
chance seemed to throw the opportunity in my way. I heard that there
had been a quarrel between young Ralph Woodhall, with whom I was, and
Robert Ratcliffe, in the ball-room of the duke's house. I heard that
Ralph had dragged him away by the neck from Mistress Margaret when she
fainted, and that the villain quitted the room, and sent for his
cousin Henry. I did not suspect, at that time, that he was altogether
a coward, and naturally thought that a duel would follow. That did not
please me; for I wanted to punish him myself; and I would have given a
great deal to take Ralph's place; for, though he is a good swordsman,
Robert was fencing all his life, and full of tricks. As I suspected,
Robert Ratcliffe's servant Roger came twice seeking Ralph Woodhall.
The last time he brought a sealed letter. I asked him if it was a
challenge, and he said yes; so I naturally thought it came from the
man with whom Ralph had quarreled. My master was then absent, gone
with Lady Danvers to Thetford, but he was to be back long before
night, and I managed to find out, one way or another, that the duel
was to take place by moonlight, and without seconds. I got hold of the
place too; and a quick thought passed through my mind, that if Ralph
did not return, I would take the opportunity myself. I answered,
therefore, boldly, that he would be at the place appointed, adding,
below my breath, 'or somebody else in his place.' When the knave was
gone, I had a strong inclination to look into the letter; but I had
heard Ralph speak so highly about the shame of opening letters to
other people, that I could not bring my mind to do it. I was uneasy,
however, for fear he should come back in time; and I rode after him
part of the way toward Thetford. He told me he should certainly be
back before night; but they had made so little progress, it was not
likely; and I found out from the Duke of Norfolk's servants that they
did not intend to let him come back; for that the duke had sent him
out of the way to prevent his receiving the challenge. I kept it snug
in my pocket, therefore, and returned to Norwich, where I remained in
a great fright lest he should come. Night fell again, and at ten
o'clock I was upon the ground. Nobody was there; and, sitting down
upon a bench, I fell into a doze, out of which a quick step awoke me
at length. It was a foggy night, and though the moon gave some light,
one could not see a man's face clearly. The man was of the same
height, too, as Robert Ratcliffe, dressed much in the same way, and I
was hardly awake. His sword was in his hand when first I saw him, and
he said, 'Come, no words, sir; draw your sword. On my life, you take
it coolly.' There was something in the voice that startled me, though
I knew neither of their tongues well; but, as his sword was out, mine
was soon out too. We made two or three passes, and he pressed me hard;
for I had a doubt, and wanted to be sure. He beat me out from beneath
the trees to a place by the side of the basin where there was more
light, and then he seemed surprised, and lost his guard just as I was
lunging quart over the arm. I had no notion I should hit him; but he
did not parry, and the blade went through his body. He was killed in a
fair fight, however; and, though it was a mistake, it was no murder.
The knave Roger, Robert Ratcliffe's servant, can tell you more as to
how his cowardly master got Henry Woodhall to take the burden off his
own shoulders."
Doctor M'Feely shook his head: "Whoso sheddeth man's blood, by man
shall his blood be shed," he replied. "If this isn't murder, Gaunt
Stilling, I should like to know what the devil it is."
"Be that as it may," answered Gaunt Stilling, "I was only the more
resolved to have vengeance upon that villain Robert. I went to seek
him at Sedgemoor, when I heard he was there; but I was stopped and
prevented, and I heard afterward that he had slunk away from the
battle. After that," he continued, "I found that poor Master Ralph was
in prison, and my heart was torn many ways; for my sister sent for me,
and I found her dying. The villain had broken her heart by a letter he
wrote her, mocking her claims, and making a scoff of her love. She
never took heart again, and died a fortnight after the birth of her
child. I was resolved, however, that Ralph should not suffer for my
deed, if I could help it, and I wrote that paper and brought it to
you. I kept myself out of the way, indeed, because I always thought
the time for my vengeance would come; and when I heard in Holland that
Robert Ratcliffe was going to marry Margaret Woodhall, to gain all his
ends and objects, and, perhaps, in time to become Lord Woodhall, I
made up my mind what I would do. I found out Sir Robert Hardwicke, who
went so long by the name of Moraber--"
"What could make him take such a heathenish name?" asked Doctor
M'Feely. "There is not a Christian letter in it."
"It is but Ormebar turned another way," replied Gaunt Stilling. "But
write away, write away. I did not tell Sir Robert all I intended,
though he has ever been kind and generous to me. But he seemed to
divine a great deal, and cautioned me to beware. He told me that he
intended to claim his own--to bring the adulteress to shame, and
dispossess the son of Lord Coldenham, giving Ralph his place, because
he had loved his mother when she was young. He said that would be
punishment enough; and I hesitated a little. I resolved to make sure,
however, for I knew him to be soft-hearted; and I went with my father
this morning to Ormebar Castle, where Sir Robert had appointed him to
come to bear witness. When I saw the villain, however, come out into
the hall with Margaret Woodhall to go to the church, my blood seemed
to boil up. I had no longer any command over myself, or any scruple;
and I killed him. Now don't say a word, good man; there are some
offenses that the law does not touch--there are some evils that no law
will prevent; I have punished the one, and have stopped the other.
That is my only offense, and I am ready to die for it."
"If I put those last words down, they'll twist a cord round your
throat to a certainty, Gaunt," said Doctor M'Feely. "Lawyers won't
have it that there is any thing law can't do; and they always hang a
man who preaches the contrary."
"Put them down, put them down," said Gaunt Stilling; "they will make
no difference in my fate. Now give me the paper, and I will sign
it--you put your name there."
"We had better have in another witness," suggested Doctor M'Feely;
and, calling the turnkey, he made Gaunt Stilling read over the whole
paper in the man's presence, and acknowledge its accuracy before he
signed his name.
The chicken and the bottle of wine were then brought in; but good
Doctor M'Feely was in no mood for either eating or drinking; and after
taking one glass to please the prisoner, he retired, promising to
visit him again in a couple of days. Some weeks passed without any
thing remarkable occurring in Dorchester jail, till an early fall of
snow took place; on the morning after which, the room of Gaunt
Stilling was found vacant. A plank had been taken up in the floor, and
extended from the high window, the bars of which had been wrenched
out, to a parapet of the doorkeeper's lodge; thence, for any one to
make their escape, a wall some six feet high was to be surmounted, and
then a leap of fourteen or fifteen feet into the lane was to be taken.
That this had been accomplished was evident by the marks in the snow;
and foot-prints, undoubtedly those of Gaunt Stilling, were traced for
some way on the Weymouth road, till the marks of traffic effaced them.
He was never actually heard of more; but in the fourth year of the
reign of King William the Third, some portions of a skeleton, and a
complete set of irons covered with rust, were taken out of a deep hole
in the River Wey.