Mrs. Hazleton found Mr. Shanks, the attorney, the most difficult
person to deal with whom she had ever met in her life. She had
remarked that he was keen, active, intelligent, unscrupulous,
confident in his own powers, bold as a lion in the wars of quill,
parchment, and red tape; without fear, without hesitation, without
remorse. There was nothing that he scrupled to do, nothing that he
ever repented having done. She had fancied that the only difficulty
which she could have to encounter was that of concealing from him, at
least in a degree, the ultimate objects and designs which she herself
had in view.
So shrewd people often deceive themselves as to the character of other
shrewd people. The difficulty was quite different. It was a peculiar
sort of stolidity on the part of Mr. Shanks, for which she was utterly
unprepared.
Now the attorney was ready to do any thing on earth which his fair
patroness wished. He would have perilled his name on the roll in her
service; and was only eager to understand what were her desires, even
without giving her the trouble of explaining them. Moreover, there was
no point of law or equity, no manner of roguery or chicanery, no
object of avarice, covetousness, or ambition, which he could not have
comprehended at once. They were things within his own ken and scope,
to which the intellect and resources of his mind were always open. But
to other passions, to deeper, more remote motives and emotions, Mr.
Shanks was as stolid as a door-post. It required to hew a way as it
were to his perceptions, to tunnel his mind for the passage of a new
conception.
The only passion which afforded the slightest cranny of an opening was
revenge; and after having tried a dozen other ways of making him
comprehend what she wished without committing herself, Mrs. Hazleton
got him to understand that she thought Sir Philip Hastings had
injured--at all events, that he had offended--her, and that she sought
vengeance. From that moment all was easy. Mr. Shanks could understand
the feeling, though not its extent. He would himself have given ten
pounds out of his own pocket--the largest sum he had ever given in
life for any thing but an advantage--to be revenged upon the same man
for the insult he had received; and he could perceive that Mrs.
Hazleton would go much further, without, indeed, being able to
conceive, or even dream of, the extent to which she was prepared to
go.
However, when he had once got the clue, he was prepared to run along
the road with all celerity; and now she found him every thing she had
expected. He was a man copious in resources, prolific of schemes. His
imagination had exercised itself through life, in devising crooked
paths; but in this instance the road was straight-forward before him.
He would rather it had been tortuous, it is true; but for the sake of
his dear lady he was ready to follow even a plain path, and he
explained to her that Sir Philip Hastings stood in a somewhat
dangerous position.
He was proceeding to enter into the details, but Mrs. Hazleton
interrupted him, and, to his surprise, not only told him, but showed
him, that she knew all the particulars.
"The only question is, Mr. Shanks," she said, "can you prove the
marriage of his elder brother to this woman before the birth of the
child?"
"We think we can, madam," replied the attorney, "we think we can.
There is a very strong letter, and there has been evidently--"
He paused and hesitated, and Mrs. Hazleton demanded, "There has been
what, Mr. Shanks?"
"There has been evidently a leaf torn out of the register," replied
the lawyer.
There was something in his manner which made the lady gaze keenly in
his face; but she would ask no questions on that subject, and she
merely said, "Then why has not the case gone on, as it was put in your
hands six months ago?"
"Why, you see, my dear madam," replied Shanks, "law is at best
uncertain. One wants two or three great lawyers to make a case. Money
was short; John and his mother had spent all last year's annuity.
Barristers won't plead without fees, and besides--"
He paused again, but an impatient gesture from the lady urged him on.
"Besides," he said, "I had devised a little scheme, which, of course,
I shall abandon now, for marrying him to Mistress Emily Hastings. He
is a very handsome young fellow, and--"
"I have seen him," said Mrs. Hazleton, thoughtfully, "but why should
you abandon this scheme, Mr. Shanks? It seems to me by no means a bad
one."
The poor lawyer was now all at sea again, and fancied himself as wide
of the lady's aim as ever.
Mrs. Hazleton suffered him to remain in this dull suspense for some
time. Wrapped up in her own thoughts, and busy with her own
calculations, she suffered several minutes to elapse without adding a
word to that which had so much surprised the attorney. Then, however,
she said, in a meditative tone, "There is only one way by which it can
be accomplished. If you allow it to be conducted in a formal manner,
you will fail utterly. Sir Philip will never consent. She will never
even yield."
"But if Sir Philip is made to see that it will save him a tremendous
lawsuit, and perhaps his whole estate," suggested Mr. Shanks.
"He will resist the more firmly," answered the lady; "if it saved his
life, he would reject it with scorn--no! But there is a way. If you
can persuade her--if you can show her that her father's safety, his
position in life, depends upon her conduct, perhaps you may bring her
by degrees to consent to a private marriage. She is young,
inexperienced, enthusiastic, romantic. She loves her father devotedly,
and would make any sacrifice for him."
"No great sacrifice, I should think, madam," replied Mr. Shanks, "to
marry a handsome young man who has a just claim to a large fortune."
"That is as people may judge," replied the lady; "but at all events
this claim gives us a hold upon her which we must not fail to use, and
that directly. I will contrive means of bringing them together. I will
make opportunity for the lad, but you must instruct him how to use it
properly. All I can do is to co-operate without appearing."
"But, my dear madam, I really do not fully understand," said Mr.
Shanks. "I had a fancy--a sort of imagination like, that you
wished--that you desired--"
He hesitated; but Mrs. Hazleton would not help him by a single word,
and at last he added, "I had a fancy that you wished this suit
to go on against Sir Philip Hastings, and now--but that does not
matter--only do you really wish to bring it all to an end, to settle
it by a marriage between John and Mistress Emily?"
"That will be the pleasantest, the easiest way of settling it, sir,"
replied Mrs. Hazleton, coolly; "and I do not at all desire to injure,
but rather to serve Sir Philip and his family."
That was false, for though to marry Emily Hastings to any one but Mr.
Marlow was what the lady did very sincerely desire; yet there was a
long account to be settled with Sir Philip Hastings which could not
well be discharged without a certain amount of injury to him and his.
The lady was well aware, too, that she had told a lie, and moreover
that it was one which Mr. Shanks was not at all likely to believe.
Perhaps even she did not quite wish him to believe it, and at all
events she knew that her actions must soon give it contradiction. But
men make strange distinctions between speech and action, not to be
accounted for without long investigation and disquisition. There are
cases where people shrink from defining in words their purposes, or
giving voice to their feelings, even when they are prepared by acts to
stamp them for eternity. There are cases where men do acts which they
dare not cover by a lie.
Mrs. Hazleton sought for no less than the ruin of Sir Philip Hastings;
she had determined it in her own heart, and yet she would not own it
to her agent--perhaps she would not own it to herself. There is a dark
secret chamber in the breast of every one, at the door of which the
eyes of the spirit are blindfolded, that it may not see the things to
which it is consenting. Conscience records them silently, and sooner
or later her book is to be opened; it may be in this world: it may be
in the next: but for the time that book is in the keeping of passion,
who rarely suffers the pages to be seen till purpose has been ratified
by act, and remorse stands ready to pronounce the doom.
There was a pause after Mrs. Hazleton had spoken, for the attorney was
busy also with thoughts he wished to utter, yet dared not speak. The
first prospect of a lawsuit--the only sort of the picturesque in which
he could find pleasure--a long, intricate, expensive lawsuit, was
fading before his eyes as if a mist were coming over the scene. Where
were his consultations, his letters, his briefs, his pleas, its
rejoinders, his demurrers, his appeals? Where were the fees, the
bright golden fees? True, in the hopelessness of his young client's
fortunes, he had urged the marriage with a proviso, that if it took
place by his skilful management, a handsome bonus was to be his share
of the spoil. But then Mrs. Hazleton's first communication had raised
brighter hopes, had put him more in his own element, had opened to him
a scene of achievements as glorious to his notions as those of the
listed field to knights of old; and now all was vanishing away. Yet he
did not venture to tell her how much he was disappointed, still less
to show her why and how.
It was the lady who spoke first; and she did so in as calm,
deliberate, passionless a tone as if she had been devising the fashion
of a new Mantua.
"It may be as well, Mr. Shanks," she said, "in order to produce the
effect we wish upon dear Emily's mind"--dear Emily!--"to commence the
suit against Sir Philip--I mean to take those first steps which may
create some alarm. I cannot of course judge what they ought to be, but
you must know; and if not, you must seek advice from counsel learned
in the law. You understand what I mean, doubtless."
"Oh, certainly, madam, certainly," replied Mr. Shanks, with a profound
sigh of relief. "First steps commit us to nothing: but they must be
devised cautiously, and I am very much afraid that--that--"
"Afraid of what, sir?" asked Mrs. Hazleton, in a tone somewhat stern.
"Only that the expense will be greater than my young client can
afford," answered the lawyer, seeing that he must come to the point.
"Let not that stand in the way," said Mrs. Hazleton at once; "I will
supply the means. What will be the expense?"
"Would you object to say five hundred pounds?" asked the lawyer,
cautiously.
"A thousand," replied the lady, with a slight inclination of the head;
and then, weary of circumlocution, she added in a bolder tone than she
had yet used, "only remember, sir, that what is done must be done
effectually; no mistakes, no errors, no flaws! See that you use all
your eyes--see that you bend every nerve to the task. I will have no
procrastination for the sake of fresh fees--nothing omitted one day to
be remembered the next--no blunders to be corrected after long delays
and longer correspondence. I know you lawyers and your ways right
well; and if I find that for the sake of swelling a bill to the
bursting, you attempt to procrastinate, the cause will be taken at
once from your hands and placed in those who will do their work more
speedily. You can practise those tricks upon those who are more or
less in your power; but you shall not play them upon me."
"I declare, my dear madam, I can assure you," said Mr. Shanks; but
Mrs. Hazleton cut him short. "There, there," she said, waving her fair
hand, "do not declare--do not assure me of any thing. Let your actions
speak, Mr. Shanks. I am too much accustomed to declarations and
assurances to set much value upon them. Now tell me, but in as few
words and with as few cant terms as possible, what are the chances of
success in this suit? How does the young man's case really stand?"
Mr. Shanks would gladly have been excused such explanations. He never
liked to speak clearly upon such delicate questions, but he would not
venture to refuse any demand of Mrs. Hazleton's, and therefore he
began with a circumlocution in regard to the uncertainty of law, and
to the impossibility of giving any exact assurances of success.
The lady would not be driven from her point, however. "That is not
what I sought to know," she said. "I am as well aware of the law's
uncertainty--of its iniquity, as you. But I ask you what grounds you
have to go upon? Were they ever really married? Is this son
legitimate?"
"The lady says they were married," replied Mr. Shanks cautiously, "and
I have good hope we can prove the legitimacy. There is a letter in
which the late Mr. John Hastings calls her 'my dear little wife;' and
then there is clearly a leaf torn out of the marriage register about
that very time."
Mr. Shanks spoke the last words slowly and with some hesitation; but
after a pause he went on more boldly and rapidly. "Then we have a
deposition of the old woman Danby that they were married. This is
clear and precise," he continued with a grin: "she wanted to put in
something about 'in the eyes of God,' but I left that out as beside
the question; and she did the swearing very well. She might have
broken down under cross-examination, it is true; and therefore it was
well to put off the trial till she was gone. We can prove, moreover,
that the late Sir John always paid an annuity to both mother and
child, in order to make them keep secret--nay more, that he bribed the
old woman Danby. This is our strong point; but it is beyond doubt--I
can prove it, madam--I can prove it. All I fear is the mother; she is
weak--very weak; I wish to heaven she were out of the way till the
trial is over."
"Send her out of the way," cried Mrs. Hazleton, decidedly; "send her
to France;" and then she added, with a bitter smile, "she may still
figure amongst the beauties of Versailles.
"But she will not go," replied Mr. Shanks. "Madam, she will not go. I
hinted at such a step--mentioned Cornwall or Ireland--any where she
could be concealed."
"Cornwall or Ireland!" exclaimed Mrs. Hazleton, "of course she would
not go. Why did not you propose Africa or the plantations? She shall
go, Mr. Shanks. Leave her to me. She shall go. And now, set to work at
once--immediately, I say--this very day. Send the youth to-morrow, and
let him bring me word that some step is taken. I will instruct him how
to act, while you deal with the law."
Mr. Shanks promised to obey, and retired overawed by all he had seen
and heard. There had, it is true, been no vehement demonstration of
passion; no fierce blaze; no violent flash; but there had been
indications enough to show the man of law all that was raging within.
It had been for him like gazing at a fine building on fire at that
period of the conflagration where dense smoke and heavy darkness brood
over the fearful scene, while dull, suddenly-smothered flashes break
across the gloom, and tell how terrible will be the flame when it does
burst freely forth.
He had never known Mrs. Hazleton before--he had never comprehended her
fully. But now he knew her--now, though perhaps the depths were still
unfathomable to his eyes, he felt that there was a strong commanding
will within that beautiful form which would bear no trifling. He had
often treated her with easy lightness--with no want of apparent
respect indeed--but with the persuasions and arguments such as men of
business often address to women as beings inferior to themselves
either in intellect or experience. Now Mr. Shanks wondered how he had
escaped so long and so well, and he resolved that for the future his
conduct should be very different.
Mrs. Hazleton, when he left her, sat down to rest--yes, to rest; for
she was very weary. There had been the fatiguing strife of strong
passions in the heart--hopes--expectations--schemes--contrivances;
and, above all, there had been a wrestling with herself to deal calmly
and softly where she felt fiercely. It had exhausted her; and for some
minutes she sat listlessly, with her eyes half shut, like one utterly
tired out. Ere a quarter of an hour had passed, wheels rolled up to
the door; a carriage-step was let down, and there was a footfall in
the hall.
"Dear Mrs. Warmington, delighted to see you!" said Mrs. Hazleton, with
a smile sweet and gentle as the dawn of a summer morning.