BASCOMBE AND THE MAGISTRATE.
After dinner, the cousins went to the summer-house, and there George
gave Helen his report, revealing his plan and hope for Leopold.
"Such fancies must be humoured, you know, Helen. There is nothing to
be gained by opposing them," he said.
Helen looked at him with keen eyes, and he returned the gaze. The
confidence betwixt them was not perfect: each was doubtful as to the
thought of the other, and neither asked what it was.
"A fine old cock is Mr. Hooker!" said Greorge; "a jolly,
good-natured, brick-faced squire; a tory of course, and a sound
church-man; as simple as a baby, and took everything I told him
without a hint of doubt or objection;--just the sort of man I
expected to find him! When I mentioned my name, &c., he found he had
known my father, and that gave me a good start. Then I lauded his
avenue, and apologized for troubling him so early and on Sunday too,
but said it was a pure work of mercy in which I begged his
assistance--as a magistrate, I added, lest he should fancy I had
come after a subscription. It was a very delicate case, I said, in
which were concerned the children of a man of whom he had, I
believed, at one time known something--General Lingard. 'To be
sure!' he cried; 'knew him very well; a fine fellow--but hasty,
sir--hasty in his temper!' I said I had never known him myself, but
one of his children was my cousin; the other was the child of his
second wife, a Hindoo lady unfortunately, and it was about him I
presumed to trouble him. Then I plunged into the matter at once,
telling him that Leopold had had violent brain-fever, brought on by
a horrible drug, the use of which, if use I dare call it, he had
learnt in India; and that, although he had recovered from the fever,
it was very doubtful if ever he would recover from the consequences
of it, for that he had become the prey of a fixed idea, the hard
deposit from a heated imagination. 'And pray what is the idea?'he
asked. 'Neither more nor less,' I answered, 'than that he is a
murderer!'--'God bless me!' he cried, somewhat to my alarm, for I
had been making all this preamble to prejudice the old gentleman in
the right direction, lest afterwards Leopold's plausibility might be
too much for him. So I echoed the spirit of his exclamation,
declaring it was one of the saddest things I had ever known, that a
fellow of such sweet and gentle nature, one utterly incapable of
unkindness, not to say violence, should be so possessed by misery
and remorse for a phantom-deed, no more his than if he had dreamed
it, a thing he not only did not do, but never could have done. I had
not yet however told him, I said, what was perhaps the saddest point
in the whole sad story--namely, that the attack had been brought on
by the news of the actual murder of a lady to whom he had been
passionately attached; the horror of it had unhinged his reason,
then turned and fastened upon his imagination; so that he was now
convinced beyond the reach of argument or even the clearest proof,
that it was his own hand that drove the knife to her heart. Then I
recalled to his memory the case as reported, adding that the fact of
the murderer's prolonged evasion of justice, appeared, by some
curious legerdemain of his excited fancy, if not to have suggested--
of that I was doubtful--yet to have ripened his conviction of guilt.
Now nothing would serve him but he must give himself up,
confess--no, that was not a true word in his case!--accuse himself
of the crime, and meet his fate on the gallows,--'in the hope,
observe, my dear sir,' I said, 'of finding her in the other world,
and there making it up with her!'--'God bless me!' he cried again,
in a tone of absolute horror. And every now and then, while I spoke,
he would ejaculate something; and still as he listened his eyes grew
more and more bloodshot with interest and compassion. 'Ah, I see!'
he said then; 'you want to send him to a madhouse?--Don't do it,' he
continued, in a tone of expostulation, almost entreaty. 'Poor boy!
He may get over it. Let his friends look to him. He has a sister,
you say?' I quickly reassured him, telling him such was no one's
desire, and saying I would come to the point in a moment, only there
was one thing more which had interested me greatly, as revealing how
a brain in such a condition will befool itself, all but generating
two individualities.--There I am afraid I put my foot in it, but he
was far too simple to see it was cloven--ha! ha! and I hastened to
remark that, as a magistrate, he must have numberless opportunities
of noting similar phenomena. He waved his hand in deprecation, and I
hastened to remark that, up to a certain point, whatever hint the
newspapers had given, Leopold had expanded and connected with every
other, but that at one part of the story I had found him entirely at
fault: he could not tell what he did, where he went, or how he had
felt, first after the deed was done. He confessed all after that was
a blank until he found himself in bed. But when I told him something
he had not seen--which his worship might remember--the testimony
namely of the coast-guardsmen--about the fishing-boat with the two
men in it--I had here to refresh his memory as to the whole of that
circumstance--and did so by handing him the newspaper containing
it--that was what I made you give me the paper for--I have lost the
thread of my sentence, but never mind. I told him then something I
have not told you yet, Helen, namely, that when I happened to allude
to that portion of the story, Leopold started up with flashing eyes,
and exclaimed, 'Now I remember! It all comes back to me as clear as
day. I remember running down the hill, and jumping into the boat
just as they shoved off. I was exhausted, and fell down in the
stern. When I came to myself, the two men were forward: I saw their
legs beneath the sails. I thought they would be sure to give me up,
and at once I slipped overboard. The water revived me, but when I
reached the shore, I fell down again, and lay there I don't know how
long. Indeed I don't remember anything more except very confusedly.'
That is what Leopold said, and what I now told Mr. Hooker. Then at
last I opened my mind to him as to wherein I ventured to ask his
assistance; and my petition was, that he would allow me to bring
Leopold, and would let him go through the form of giving himself up
to justice. Especially I begged that he would listen to all he had
to say, and give no sign that he doubted his story. 'And then, sir,'
I concluded, 'I would leave it to you to do what we cannot--reconcile
him to going home instead of to prison.'
"He sat with his head on his hand for a while, as if pondering some
weighty question of law. Then he said suddenly: 'It is now almost
church-time. I will think the matter over. You may rely upon me.
Will you take a seat in my pew and dine with us after?' I excused
myself on the ground that I must return at once to poor Leopold, who
was anxiously looking for me. And you must forgive me, Helen, and
not fancy me misusing Fanny, if I did yield to the temptation of a
little longer ride. I have scarcely more than walked her, with a
canter now and then when we had the chance of a bit of turf."
Helen assured him with grateful eyes that she knew Fanny was as safe
with him as with herself; and she felt such a gush of gratitude
follow the revival of hope, that she was nearer being in love with
her cousin to ever before. Her gratitude inwardly delighted George,
and he thought the light in her blue eyes lovelier than ever; but
although strougly tempted, he judged it better to delay a formal
confession until circumstances should be more comfortable.