Sir Arthur Adelon, after leaving Eda and Dudley together, hurried back
as fast as he could go to the house of Mr. Clive, passing by the way
the man who had brought him the note, which he still held clasped
firmly in his hand. He was evidently a good deal agitated when he set
out; the muscles of his face worked, his brow contracted, and muttered
sentences escaped his lips. From this state he seemed to fall into
deep thought. The emotions probably were not less intense, but they
were more profound; and when he came near the house he stopped and
leaned for a moment against the gate, murmuring, "What can it be?"
After a pause of a moment or two he rang the bell, and asked the maid
who appeared, where the gentleman was who had sent him that letter.
The woman seemed somewhat confused, said she did not know anybody had
sent him a letter, but that Mr. Clive was in the drawing-room with his
daughter. Her embarrassment, and that of the baronet, however, were
removed, almost as she spoke the last words, by a voice calling down
the stairs and saying, "Sir Arthur Adelon, will you do me the honour
of walking up hither?"
The baronet instantly obeyed the invitation, but it was with a very
pale face, and the next instant he was in the room with Norries. The
latter had withdrawn into the chamber where his conference had taken
place with Clive, and he fixed a steadfast gaze on the baronet as he
entered; then turning towards the door, he closed it and waved his
visitor to a seat, taking one himself at the same time, and still
keeping his bright gray eyes fixed firmly upon the baronet's face.
Hitherto not a word had been spoken, and Norries remained silent for
some instants; but at length he said, "I perceive, both by your coming
and your demeanour, Sir Arthur Adelon, that you have not forgotten
me."
"Oh, no! Mr. Norries," replied the baronet; "I remember you quite
well, and am happy to see you. But is it not somewhat dangerous for
you to visit England just now?"
"Not in the least, I think," said Norries. "I am obliged to you for
your solicitude, Sir Arthur. If it had shown itself materially twelve
months ago, it might have kept me out of York Castle."
"I really do not see how I could have served you," answered Sir Arthur
Adelon; "indeed, I never knew that you were in York Castle."
"For three days," replied Norries, laconically. "But this is
irrelevant; let me speak of more important affairs. As your memory is
so good, you have probably not forgotten yet what took place eight and
six years ago, in regard to transactions affecting Charles Dudley,
Esquire, since dead."
"Well, sir, well!" cried Sir Arthur, "what of that?"
"You inquired once," said Norries, "for the correspondence respecting
that affair; I think I could give you some information concerning it."
"Was it not burnt?" exclaimed Sir Arthur. "You told me it was burnt."
"Pardon me, Sir Arthur," replied Norries; "I never told you any such
thing. My partner did, but he lied in this case as in many others, and
I, who knew little of the transaction at the time, found the papers
after his death, and have them safe in my possession."
There was some writing paper lying on the table, clean and unsullied;
but without knowing what he did, Sir Arthur Adelon took it in his
hands, and in two minutes it was twisted into every conceivable shape.
Norries gazed at him with the slightest possible smile; and in the end
he said, "I am afraid, Sir Arthur, that paper will not be very
serviceable; however, we can get more."
"Paha!" cried Sir Arthur Adelon; "let us think of serious things, Mr.
Norries. Those letters must be destroyed. Do you mean to say they were
all preserved?"
"Every one," answered Norries; "nay, more. I have spoken of eight and
of six years ago, but amongst the documents there are several of a
much earlier period, which show that the schemes then executed had
been long devising, that the purpose then accomplished had been long
nourished. The motives, too, are very evident from certain passages;
and I now tell you, Sir Arthur Adelon, that if I had been made aware
of the facts--of the whole facts--those schemes would never have been
accomplished, that purpose would have been frustrated."
And he gazed sternly at the baronet, setting his teeth hard.
"My partner, Mr. Sherborne," continued Norries, after a pause, during
which his companion uttered not a word, but remained with his eyes
bent down, and his teeth gnawing his nether lip; "my partner, Mr.
Sherborne, was a great scoundrel, as you know, Sir Arthur. In fact,
you knew it at the time you employed him."
"No, sir, I did not," exclaimed Sir Arthur, catching at the last word.
"Yes, Sir Arthur, you did," replied Norries, firmly; "or you never
would have employed him in so rascally a business."
"He suggested to me everything that was done," replied the baronet,
eagerly.
"In consequence of a private conversation, of which he made a note,"
rejoined Norries, "and of a letter, still preserved, so confirmatory
of the memorandum, that there can be no doubt of its accuracy."
The face of Sir Arthur Adelon flushed. He was a man of one sort of
courage, and he replied, haughtily, "I think you intend to insult me,
sir. Beware what you are doing."
"I am quite aware," answered Norries, slowly inclining his head;
"neither do I intend at all to insult you, Sir Arthur. I speak truth
in plain terms, having learned in sorrow and adversity that such is
the only right course to pursue. In justice and in good faith I ought
to place the whole of those papers in the hands of a gentleman nearly
related to that Mr. Dudley--his son, I mean."
"It could do him no good," exclaimed the baronet; "the thing is past
and gone; he ruined and dead; nothing can by any farther means be
recovered. This Mr. Dudley, could not regain a shilling, nor an acre
of his father's property, as you well know."
"True," replied Norries; "there are some things in law which have no
remedy, as I do well know; but it is right that the son should learn
who ruined his father, and he should have known long ago, but for one
circumstance which may perhaps operate still farther."
"What is that?" demanded the baronet, quickly; "I have no objection
whatsoever to give a considerable sum for the possession of those
papers. They can be of no use to any one but myself. Come, let us talk
reasonably, Mr. Norries--let us say a thousand pounds."
"Money will not do, here, sir," answered the other, in a contemptuous
tone; "it had its effect upon Mr. Sherborne, who was a rascal; but it
will have no effect upon his partner, who is an honest man."
"Then what, in heaven's name, do you want?" demanded Sir Arthur
Adelon.
"To see you act up to your professions, Sir Arthur," replied Norries.
"At the election which began poor Mr. Dudley's ruin, and which I had
some share in conducting on your part, you professed, and I really
believe entertained--for I think that, in that at least, you were
sincere--principles of firm and devoted attachment to the cause of the
people. You declared that if they did but return you to parliament,
you would advocate all measures in favour of their rights and
liberties; you were more than what is called a Radical--you were a
Reformer in the true sense of the word; you gloried in being descended
from the old Saxon race; you pointed out that your name itself was but
a corruption of that of one of our last Saxon princes; and you
promised to do your best to restore to the people that perfect freedom
which is an inalienable inheritance of the Saxon blood. You called
your son Edgar, in memory of Edgar Atheling, and you promised, in my
hearing, to maintain those principles at all times and under all
circumstances, with your voice, with your hand, with your heart's
blood. Now, Sir Arthur, I call upon you to redeem that promise; and if
you do, in the way I shall point out, you shall have those papers. I
have kept them back from the person to whom, perhaps, they ought
justly to have been given, because I would not blacken the name of one
whom I believed to be a true patriot. I found excuses for you in your
own mind to excuse to myself my retention of them. I knew you to be a
man of strong passions under a calm exterior; I knew that strong
passions, whenever they become masters, are sure to become despots;
and I thought that you had acted to the man we have mentioned, under
an influence that was overpowering--the influence of the strongest and
most ungovernable of all the passions: the thirst for revenge."
"Revenge!" exclaimed Sir Arthur. "Who told you I was moved by
revenge?"
"No one told me," answered Norries; "I knew it. I might have read it
in every line of those letters; I might have seen it in every deed you
did; but there was a portion of your previous history, Sir Arthur,
which I knew from my connexion with that part of the country, and
which when once the machinations were exposed to my view, afforded
the key to all. I ask you, Sir Arthur Adelon, whether some six or
seven-and-twenty years ago, Mr. Charles Dudley did not carry off from
your pursuit, the lady on whom you had fixed your heart?"
Sir Arthur Adelon's usually placid face assumed the expression of a
demon; and no longer averting his eyes from the fixed, stern gaze of
Norries, he stared full in his face in return, and slowly inclined his
head. He said not a word, but that look and that gesture were
sufficient reply. They said, more plainly than any words could have
spoken, "You have divined it all; you have fathomed the dark secret of
my heart to the bottom."
"Well, Sir Arthur," continued Norries, with a softened air, "I can
excuse strong passions, for I have them myself, and I know them at
times to be irresistible. In your case, I was sure you had been thus
moved. I looked upon you as a man devoted to the service of your
country; and I thought that, in a case where all other considerations
should give place to the interests of my country, it would be wrong to
damn for ever the name of one who might do her the best and highest of
services. There was but one thing that made me doubt your sincerity."
"You should not doubt it," said Sir Arthur; "I am as sincerely devoted
to the service of my country as ever."
"It is your general sincerity to which I allude," said the
plain-spoken Norries; "and the reason why I doubted it is this. When
you had effected your purpose--when you had ruined an honest and good
man, though a Norman and an aristocrat--you did not boldly and
fearlessly leave him to his fate; you afforded him assistance to save
a pitiful remnant of his property, and affected benevolence and
kindness to a man you hated. I understand it all, Sir Arthur; it was
not unnatural, but it was insincere."
"We had been upon good terms for many years," replied the baronet, who
had now resumed his usual demeanour.
"Good terms!" repeated Norries, with a laugh; "well, be it so. You are
now keeping up the appearance of good terms with the government which
you then opposed, and of which you spoke in language certainly
seditious, as it is called, and perhaps treasonable. These things have
created a doubt. That doubt must be removed, not by words and
professions, not by appearances and pretences, but by acts."
"Speak plainly," said Sir Arthur Adelon. "What is it that you want?"
"There is a meeting to be held at twelve o'clock this night in the
little town of Barhampton," said Norries, "where several gentlemen,
entertaining precisely the same sentiments which you expressed some
eight years ago to the people of Yorkshire, are to take into
consideration what decisive measures can be adopted for obtaining
those objects which you then professed to seek. I require that you
should then join us, and be one of us."
"Impossible!" cried Sir Arthur Adelon, with a look of consternation
and astonishment. "Would you have me attend a seditious meeting at
midnight with a man who has fled from the course of justice--I, a
magistrate for the county?"
A bitter smile came upon the lip of his companion; but he replied
immediately, "Even so! I would, indeed, Sir Arthur. The spirit of
patriotism is not so strong in you, it would seem, as the spirit of
revenge, or you would not hesitate. But thus much, to end all, one way
or the other: you either come, and, if you do come and frankly join
us, without any insincerity, receive the papers I have mentioned; or
you stay away, and Mr. Edward Dudley receives them."
"This is unfair!" exclaimed Sir Arthur Adelon.
"Unfair!" replied Norries; "how unfair, sir? I acting according to my
conscience, however you may be acting. My only reason for withholding
these letters from the person who would have a right to possess them,
if their suppression were not necessary to the service of my country,
is because I trust that you, whose name and station may be an infinite
advantage as a leader of the people hereafter, will put yourself in
that position in which no want of moral courage, no vacillating
hesitation can be shown, or would be possible. If you refuse to do so,
you will take from me my only motive for not giving them to him who
will know how to use them rightly. You will show yourself as insincere
in your professions of patriotism as you were insincere in your
professions of friendship; and I shall then regard you with contempt,
and treat you without consideration."
There was a stern and commanding energy in his manner which crushed
down, as it were, in the breast of Sir Arthur Adelon the angry
feelings which his impetuous words aroused. He felt cowed in the
presence of the bold, fearless man who addressed him. He remembered,
in former times, several traits of his decision and unhesitating
vehemence; and he felt sure that he would do as much or more than he
said. At first, indeed, anger was predominant; he gathered himself up,
as it were, for a spring; but his heart failed him, and he said in a
mild tone, "You are too fierce--you are too fierce! Let me consider
for a moment how this can be arranged. I am as willing as any one to
make sacrifices for my country's advantage; but first you take me by
surprise, next you use words and proceed in a manner which are little
likely to induce me to trust to your guidance."
He thought he had got an advantage, and he was proceeding, gradually
resuming a tone of dignity, when Norries stopped him, saying, "Sir
Arthur Adelon, there are times and circumstances which of themselves,
and in their own pressing nature, abridge all ceremonies. If your
house were on fire, and you in danger of perishing by the flames, I
should not wait for the punctilios of etiquette, but should wake you
roughly, saying, 'Run, run, save your life and your family!' Sir, I
tell you England is on fire, and the time is come for all men to
choose their part. The days of weak indifference are over. Now is the
time for decision and action; but nevertheless, I will not leave you
any excuse, but humbly entreat you to come to our meeting to-night,
and support with your presence, and your voice, and your influence,
those principles which you have asserted warmly on other occasions."
"But it may be very difficult to manage," said Sir Arthur Adelon; "I
have guests in my house, whom I cannot in courtesy leave without some
exceedingly good excuse. I am not accustomed to go out at such hours
of the night, and to do so will certainly appear very suspicious,
especially under existing circumstances."
"All that will be easily arranged," answered Norries. "You are a
magistrate, you say, and may consequently be called upon at any hour
on pressing occasions. You do not, of course, communicate to your
family or your guests the exact business which calls you forth, or the
motives for going at one hour rather than another; but should anything
more be wanting to smoothe the way for you, I will presently write you
a note, calling upon you to be at Barhampton to-night at twelve, on
matters of importance. I do not think," he added, with a sneering
smile, "that even your confessor will venture to cross-question a
gentleman of your independence upon a business with which he has
nothing to do."
"Certainly not," replied Sir Arthur Adelon; "and I have no objection
to come; but I cannot bind myself to anything till I hear upon what
measures your friends decide."
"Nor can I bind myself to anything, then, till I hear upon what you do
decide," rejoined Norries. "The papers are yours whenever you act up
to your professions. I shall ask nothing more, Sir Arthur. I have a
copy of your speech upon an occasion which you well remember; I will
require nothing more of you than to fulfil the pledges therein given,
and the moment you prove you are ready so to act, I resign into your
hands those letters, of which others might not judge so favourably as
I am inclined to judge. Do you promise to come?"
"I do," answered Sir Arthur Adelon, in a firmer tone than he had
hitherto used, but with a certain degree of bitterness too. "Yet,
Norries, there are various other thoughts and considerations of deep
moment, which our conversation of to-day suggests. It revives in me
the memories and feelings of past years. You should have considered
that these matters had passed away from my mind for a long time; that
of the plans, and hopes, and schemes, and passions of those times,
some have been accomplished or gratified, and have been well nigh
forgotten; some, from the utter hopelessness of seeing them
accomplished, have faded away, and become more like a vision than a
reality. What will not a man do when he is eager and excited with the
vehement impulse of fresh feelings and sharp discussions, and the
enthusiasm of those who surround him? But take those accessories away,
and the purposes themselves fall into a sleep from which it requires
some time and preparation to arouse them into active and energetic
being again. You should have considered this, and not pressed me so
eagerly without some preparation."
"Perhaps I should," replied Norries; "but, Sir Arthur, you have known
me long, and have known me to be a brief and abrupt man. _My_ purposes
never sleep; _my_ objects never fade: the one engrossing object of my
country's fate and the welfare of my fellow-men is never a passing
vision to my eyes, but a stern reality ever present, so that I am
little able to comprehend the hesitations of other men."
Sir Arthur Adelon, while the other spoke, had cast down his eyes
thoughtfully, as if little attending to the words of his companion;
but when he ceased speaking, he said, in an abstracted manner, "This
Dudley, too, he has intruded himself into my family. He is now at
Brandon, as you have doubtless heard. The cold, icy hand seemed to
seize my heart again when I saw him. I felt as if the spawn of the
viper were before me, and as if it were destined that the race were to
survive and poison my peace, even when the reptile that first stung me
was crushed."
Norries gazed at him steadfastly, with his brow contracted with a
steady, contemplative, inquiring look; and then he replied, "I do
beseech you, Sir Arthur Adelon, to banish such thoughts, to let the
faults of the dead, if faults there were, rest with the dead. I think
you believe in a God, do you not? Well, sir, there is a God who will
judge him and you. He is gone to receive his judgment; the time will
come, ere long, for you to receive yours. In the mean while, injure
not one who has never injured you, and pursue this fell and heinous
vengeance no further against the son of one whom you once loved----"
"And of one I always hated," answered the baronet, finishing the
sentence for him. "But do you not know, Norries, that as the sweetest
wine turns soonest to vinegar, so love, wronged and despised, changes
to the bitterest hate; as for the rest, I purpose pursuing no
vengeance against the young man. I wish he would quit my dwelling, for
the very feeling of being obliged to maintain a courteous and soft
demeanour towards him, increases the loathing with which I regard him.
That is all--that is all, I assure you; I would do him no harm--but I
love him not, nevertheless."
"I can see that, Sir Arthur Adelon," answered his companion; "and I
see, moreover, a dark and sinister fire in your eyes, which I observed
once before, when first in my presence you mentioned the name of Mr.
Dudley to my partner. There were deeds followed that mention, which I
need not call to your mind. I trust there will be none such now--nay,
nor any attempt towards them; if there be, I will prevent it. I am not
so good a lawyer--indeed, I know but little of the trade--I am not so
good a lawyer as Mr. Sherborne, but I am a bolder, more resolute, and
more honest man. However, I shall see you to-night. Is it not so?"
"Undoubtedly," answered Sir Arthur Adelon; "but you have not yet told
me where I shall find you in Barhampton."
"You had better go to the little inn--the Rose, I think it is called,"
replied Norries; "there is but one. There some one shall come to lead
you to us; for we are upon our guard, Sir Arthur, and resolute neither
to be taken unawares, as some men have been, nor to act rashly, and
bring down destruction on our own heads, as those thoughtless, weak,
and poor-spirited men did in Yorkshire."
"I am very happy to hear it," said the baronet, in a tone of
sincerity. "I will be there somewhat before twelve; till then,
farewell." And shaking Norries by the hand with every sort of apparent
cordiality, he left him, and returned to Brandon. But when he had
re-entered the house, he retired for some time to the library, not to
consider his future conduct, not to review the past. It was, in truth,
that the conversation of that morning had aroused within him feelings
dark, bitter, and deadly, which had slept for years; and he felt he
could not see Mr. Dudley without calming himself, lest sensations
should appear which he wished studiously to conceal from every eye.