It is necessary now to leave Dudley in the hands of the constables,
and to take up the history of another personage in the tale.
Sir Arthur Adelon spurred on for four miles without drawing a rein,
and almost without giving a thought to any point in his situation,
except the effort necessary to escape personal danger. For the first
two miles he fancied that he heard the sounds of pursuit behind him;
but gradually, as no one appeared, and his keenest attention did not
confirm the impressions which fear had produced, he became convinced
that he had escaped immediate capture; and while he still urged his
horse furiously forward, he meditated over the perilous future. His
course was directed along a narrow horse-path across the downs, with
every turning of which he was well acquainted, but which added nearly
two miles to the distance he had to go. He paid little attention to
any external objects; but one thing could not escape his eye as he
rode over the high grounds towering above the sea. It was a dim light,
at the distance of about a mile from the shore, and he knew right well
that it was burning on board a small French brig, which had brought
over the two field-pieces the night before. The sight suggested to his
mind the idea of flight from England; but there were many difficult
and dangerous points to be considered before such a step could be
taken; and after awhile, he somewhat checked his horse's speed, and
though still proceeding at a quick trot, revolved in an intense, but
confused and rambling manner, the circumstances which surrounded him.
His inclination was certainly to fly; but then he remembered that to
do so would fix upon him participation in the crimes of that night;
that he might not be able to return to his country for long years, and
that the rest of his life might be spent in the pains of exile. He
recollected, too, that he had held back at that period of the attack
upon the town of Barhampton, when the magistrates had appeared upon
the wall, and summoned the multitude to disperse, and retire quietly
to their homes; and he fancied that, disguised as his person had been,
in a large wrapping cloak, with a handkerchief tied over the lower
part of his face, and a hat unlike that which he usually wore, he
might have escaped without observation on the part of most of the
rioters. But then again, Dudley had seen him, spoken to him,
recognised him. He was the only one, except Norries, that was fully
aware of his presence on the spot, and Sir Arthur believed that he had
seen the latter fall dead under the fire of the troops. Could Dudley
be silenced, all might go well; but still the baronet hesitated and
balanced, and remained undecided till the gates of Brandon Park
appeared before him. It was necessary to come to some immediate
decision; and yet he could not make up his mind to decide; and at
length he determined, as most men in a state of doubt are inclined to
do, to cast the burden upon another. "I will speak with Filmer," he
thought; "and upon his advice I will act." The gates were immediately
opened on his ringing the bell; for the tenants of the lodge, knowing
that he was absent, had waited up for his return, and riding hard up
the avenue, Sir Arthur entered his niece's house a little after eleven
o'clock. A momentary hesitation crossed him when he was passing the
threshold, as to whether he should consult with Father Peter or not;
but that doubt was immediately put an end to, by the first words of
the butler, who stood behind the servant that opened the door.
"Oh! Sir Arthur!" he said, with a very grave face, "some terrible
things have happened----"
"I know--I know," cried Sir Arthur, interrupting him hastily, and
somewhat surprised to find that the tidings had travelled so quick.
"Where is Mr. Filmer? I must see him directly. Call him to me
immediately."
"He is in the library, sir," replied the man; and passing on with a
quick step, Sir Arthur Adelon entered the room where the priest was
seated alone. Father Filmer was sitting at a large library-table, with
his head resting on his hand: and as he raised his eyes to the
baronet's countenance, with the light of the large lamp streaming upon
his broad forehead, there was an expression of intense stern thought
upon his face, which made Sir Arthur feel he was in the presence of
his master more than of his friend perhaps. He closed the door, and
saw that it was firmly shut; and as he was advancing towards the
table, Mr. Filmer inquired, "What is the matter, Sir Arthur? You are
pale, haggard, and apparently much agitated."
"Have you not heard, my good father?" asked the baronet. "I had
understood that the rumour had reached Brandon."
"I have heard much," replied the priest; "but what I wish to hear is,
what it is that has so much affected you. My son," he continued,
rising, and gazing gravely upon Sir Arthur's face, "if you would
have comfort, consolation, and advice from one who is your old and
long-tried friend, as well as your spiritual guide, you must have
confidence in him. Now, in that confidence you have been wanting
lately. You have told me half, and I have known the whole. You have
avoided rather sought my counsel; and I have not forced it upon you,
although I knew you to be engaged in enterprises dangerous to yourself
and others, and knew also the inducements which forced you forwards,
and from which I could have relieved you, if you would but have been
guided by me. The only thing of which I was unaware, was that the rash
attempt was to be made to-night. I see by your face, by your dress, by
your manner, that it has been so; and I now ask you the result, not
from any idle curiosity, but for the purpose of delivering you from
the difficulties which your own want of confidence has brought upon
you. Speak; and every word that you say shall be held as sacred as if
uttered under the seal of confession."
"The result, my best friend," replied Sir Arthur, "is more disastrous
than can be conceived." And he went on to give his own version of all
that had occurred, dwelling particularly upon Dudley's appearance
amongst the rioters, and the words which he had used. Filmer suffered
him to proceed to an end without a single question. He did not even
embarrass him by a look, but having resumed his seat, kept his eyes
fixed thoughtfully upon the table, and his head slightly bent, in
listening attention.
"And now what am I to do?" asked Sir Arthur. "I will be guided
entirely by your advice. There is the French brig which has been hired
by some of these men, through the _Société Democratique_, now lying
off the coast. A boat will carry me on board in half an hour, and I
shall be safe in France, as fugitives accused of mere political
offences cannot be claimed."
"Would you ruin yourself for ever?" asked Father Filmer; "would you
put a brand upon your name which can never be effaced? Think not of
it; merely answer me one or two questions. Are you sure that Norries
is dead?"
"I saw him fall with my own eyes," answered the baronet; "and I think
that one of the cannon passed over him, for the horses took fright at
the firing."
"Norries would not betray you, I think," said Mr. Filmer,
thoughtfully; and then repeated, "he would not betray you, even if he
were living, I do believe."
"But he has betrayed me to this young Dudley already," answered Sir
Arthur Adelon, sharply. "His words clearly showed that he is informed
of all that passed six years ago. He, the son of my greatest enemy,
has me now entirely in his power: it is that which makes it so
necessary to fly; he saw me, spoke to me, can swear to my presence
there."
"But he, you think, is the only one?" said the priest, in a tone of
inquiry.
"Assuredly," replied Sir Arthur. "I have been at only two of their
meetings; and at the last I strongly dissuaded them from the attempt,
and said that I would take no part in it, which was the cause of
Norries' threatening visit here. All my other communications have been
carried on with him."
"Then you are safe," said the priest. "If any one has by chance
recognised your person, it may easily be said that you were there to
dissuade the people from their rash attempt; and you can call
witnesses to prove that you had done so before."
"But Dudley, Dudley!" said the baronet, almost impatiently; "he can
prove all."
"I will provide for him," replied the priest, with a marked emphasis
and a bitter smile. "He shall be taken care of."
"But how, how?" cried Sir Arthur.
"Come with me and I will show you," answered Mr. Filmer; and lighting
a taper at the lamp, he led the way into the hall. Sir Arthur
followed, in wonder and doubt, and the priest opened the door of the
dining-room, and went in. As soon as Sir Arthur entered, his eyes fell
upon the dining-room table, which was covered with a white cloth,
concealing from the eye some large object like the figure of a man.
Mr. Filmer set down the light he carried on the side-board, where two
other wax candles were burning; and then, with a slow, firm step, and
grave countenance, approached the end of the table, and threw back the
cloth. Sir Arthur had followed him step by step, but what was his
horror and surprise to see, when the covering was removed, the cold,
inanimate features of Lord Hadley, with his forehead and head covered
with blood, and his clothes likewise stained with gore and dust.
"Good heaven!" he exclaimed, "how has this happened, and how does this
bear upon my own fate?"
"How it has happened," answered Mr. Filmer, "remains to be proved, and
shall be proved; and how it bears upon your fate, I will leave you to
divine, at least for the present. That unhappy young man had a sharp
and angry discussion this morning with Mr. Dudley. The subject was
Helen Clive, whom he who lies there was pursuing with the basest
intentions, and insulting with familiarities as well as importunities,
alike repugnant to one of so high a mind. The dispute proceeded to
very fierce and angry menaces on both parts. Dudley forgot his usual
moderation, and the sharp terms he used were overheard by myself and
two others. At dinner they were cold and repulsive towards each other;
and after dinner, towards eight o'clock, Mr. Dudley left the house,
upon what errand I do not know. That unhappy young man followed him,
inquiring which way the other took, and I find that they were seen
passing the lodge, and going up towards the downs. At that time they
were in eager conversation; their gestures were warm, and their tones
indicative of much excitement, though the words they uttered were not
heard. Somewhat more than two hours ago, the boatmen--fishermen or
smugglers, as the case may be--brought home that lifeless mass of
clay, with the vital spark even then quite extinct. The account they
gave was this: that one of their number, while watching a French brig
lying about a mile from the shore, heard high words from the cliff
above his head. He thought he heard a cry, too, as if for help, and
looking up, he saw two men at the very edge of the precipice, though
in the darkness he could but distinguish the bare outline of their
forms against the sky. There seemed to him to be blows struck and a
scuffle between them, and the moment after, one disappeared, for the
dark face of the rock prevented his fall from being seen; but a loud
cry, almost a shriek, he said, and then the sound of a heavy fall and
a deadly groan, called him to the spot, where he found this youth
lying weltering in his blood."
The priest paused for a moment or two, while Sir Arthur Adelon
approached nearer and bent down his head over the dead body; and then
Mr. Filmer, with a significant look, continued:--"Mr. Dudley will have
occupation enough. There is no other wound," added the priest,
observing that Sir Arthur was still looking close at the corpse, "but
that occasioned by the fall. The skull is fractured, the right thigh
broken, the brain severely injured. Death must have been very speedy,
though he was still living when the fishermen found him, but never
uttered a word. Now, my son, the consequences of this act are
important to you."
"But was it Dudley who killed him?" asked the baronet, with an eager
look. "I cannot think it; and my good, kind friend, I cannot wish to
bring his blood upon my head, were it even to spare my own. The events
of this night," he continued, taking the priest's hands in his and
pressing them tight, "have given me strange feelings, Filmer. I have
seen men die, if not in consequence of my act, at least in consequence
of acts in which I participated, and I cannot, I will not, even to
save my own life, bring a farther weight upon my conscience."
"For whatever you do in this case," answered Filmer, "the church has
power to absolve you, and for much more than I intend you should do.
This Dudley is an obstinate heretic, who has had the means of light
and has refused it; and although it is necessary now, from the
circumstances of the times, to refrain from exercising that just
rigour which in better and more spiritual days was displayed to every
impenitent person in his situation, yet, of course, we cannot look
upon him with the same feelings, or find ourselves bound to him by the
same ties, which would exist between us and a Catholic Christian. Body
and soul he is given over to reprobation; and we have no need to go
out of our way to shelter him in any degree from the laws of his own
heretic land: a land which for centuries has given the true faith up
to persecution and injustice of every kind. Let him take his chance. I
ask you to do nothing more. The evidence is very strong against him.
No other person was seen near this unfortunate young man. But a very
short time could have elapsed after they were remarked together,
apparently in high dispute, before this fatal occurrence took place.
Other evidence may appear, and he may be proved guilty or innocent;
but, at all events, he must be tried, and the time of that trial may
be yet remote. The first cases that will be taken will certainly be
those connected with these riots, and the only direct witness against
you will be then in jail."
"But how am I to act in this business?" demanded Sir Arthur Adelon.
"As a magistrate, as the person in whose house both the dead man and
the living were staying, I shall continually be called upon to share
in the different proceedings, and my part will be a terribly difficult
one to play, my friend."
"Not in the least," answered Filmer. "You must refuse to act as a
magistrate, even should you be called upon, alleging your acquaintance
with both parties, and your natural partiality for Mr. Dudley, on
account of old friendship between his father and yourself, as
sufficient excuses. Whatever evidence you give may be highly
favourable to the accused person. The testimony against him will be
strong enough, rest assured of that."
"Then do you really think him guilty?" demanded the baronet, gazing at
the priest, with those doubts which a long acquaintance with his
character had impressed even upon the mind of a man not very acute.
"Nay, I do not prejudge the question," replied Filmer. "As yet we have
not sufficient grounds to go upon. All I say is, the case of suspicion
is very strong; and what I would advise you to do, under any
circumstances, would be to send immediately for your nearest
neighbour, Mr. Conway, turn over the case to him, and let him judge
whether it be not necessary instantly to issue a warrant for the
apprehension of Mr. Dudley, when he returns. It were better that not a
moment were lost, for although you have probably ridden fast, it
cannot be long ere the person we suspect is here."
"Perhaps he may not return at all," said Sir Arthur. "It is more than
probable that, on foot and unarmed, he has been apprehended as one of
the rioters, but we can send, at all events." And ringing the bell
sharply, he gave the necessary orders.
"But now," continued the baronet, reverting to the topic of greatest
interest in his own mind, as soon as the servant had left the room,
"how am I to act in regard to this attack upon Barhampton?"
"We must see," replied the priest. "Should Norries be dead, or have
made his escape, you must assume a degree of boldness; acknowledge
that your views are the same in regard to general principles as those
of the unfortunate men implicated; but declare openly that you have
always opposed any recourse to physical force in the assertion of any
political opinions whatever, and bring forward witnesses to prove that
you attempted to dissuade them from all violence, refusing to take any
part therein. That will be easily done; and should any one come
forward to state that you were present at the attack, you can show
that you went thither on hearing that it was about to take place, in
order to constrain them to refrain from executing their intentions by
every means in your power."
"But how can I show that?" demanded Sir Arthur.
"We will find a way," replied Filmer; "but that can be discussed
to-morrow. I must now go out to console some of my little flock who
are suffering from affliction. In the mean time you must manage this
examination. The witnesses are the old man at the lodge, your butler,
the head footman, Brown, and the fishermen who are now waiting in the
servants' hall."
As he spoke he moved towards the door. Sir Arthur would fain have
detained him a moment to ask farther questions, but Filmer laid his
hand upon his arm, saying, "Be firm, be firm!" and left him.