The American Senator Part 77

"He couldn't have been right. He turned from me in disgust simply because I tried to explain to him that a rogue has as much right to be defended by the law as an honest man."

"Runce looks upon these men as vermin which ought to be hunted down."

"But they are not vermin. They are men;--and till they have been found guilty they are innocent men."

"If a man had murdered your child, would he be innocent in your eyes till he was convicted?"

"I hope so;--but I should be very anxious to bring home the crime against him. And should he be found guilty even then he should not be made subject to other punishment than that the law awards. Mr. Runce is angry with me because I do not think that Goarly should be crushed under the heels of all his neighbours. Take care, my Lord. Didn't we come round that corner rather sharp?"

Then Lord Rufford emphatically declared that such men as Scrobby and Goarly should be crushed, and the Senator, with an inward sigh declared that between landlord and tenant, between peer and farmer, between legislator and rustic, there was, in capacity for logical inference, no difference whatever. The British heart might be all right; but the British head was,--ah,--hopelessly wooden! It would be his duty to say so in his lecture, and perhaps some good might be done to so gracious but so stolid a people, if only they could be got to listen.

Scrobby had got down a barrister from London, and therefore the case was allowed to drag itself out through the whole day. Lord Rufford, as a magistrate, went on to the bench himself,--though he explained that he only took his seat there as a spectator. Sir George and Mr.

Gotobed were also allowed to sit in the high place,--though the Senator complained even of this. Goarly and Scrobby were not allowed to be there, and Lord Rufford, in his opinion, should also have been debarred from such a privilege. A long time was occupied before even a jury could be sworn, the barrister earning his money by brow-beating the provincial bench and putting various obstacles in the way of the trial. As he was used to practice at the a.s.sizes of course he was able to domineer. This juror would not do, nor that.

The chairman was all wrong in his law. The officers of the Court knew nothing about it. At first there was quite a triumph for the Scrobbyites, and even Nickem himself was frightened. But at last the real case was allowed to begin, and Goarly was soon in the witness-box. Goarly did not seem to enjoy the day, and was with difficulty got to tell his own story even on his own side. But the story when it was told was simple enough. He had met Mr. Scrobby accidentally in Rufford and they two had together discussed the affairs of the young Lord. They came to an agreement that the young Lord was a tyrant and ought to be put down, and Scrobby showed how it was to be done. Scrobby instigated the action about the pheasants, and undertook to pay the expenses if Goarly would act in the other little matter. But, when he found that the Senator's money was forthcoming, he had been anything but as good as his word. Goarly swore that in hard cash he had never seen more than four shillings of Scrobby's money. As to the poison, Goarly declared that he knew nothing about it; but he certainly had received a parcel of herrings from Scrobby's own hands, and in obedience to Scrobby's directions, had laid them down in Dillsborough Wood the very morning on which the hounds had come there. He owned that he supposed that there might be something in the herrings, something that would probably be deleterious to hounds as well as foxes,--or to children should the herrings happen to fall into children's hands; but he a.s.sured the Court that he had no knowledge of poison,--none whatever. Then he was made by the other side to give a complete and a somewhat prolonged account of his own life up to the present time,--this information being of course required by the learned barrister on the other side; in listening to which the Senator did become thoroughly ashamed of the Briton whom he had a.s.sisted with his generosity.

But all this would have been nothing had not Nickem secured the old woman who had sold the herrings,--and also the chemist, from whom the strychnine had been purchased as much as three years previously. This latter feat was Nickem's great triumph,--the feeling of the glory of which induced him to throw up his employment in Mr. Masters'

office, and thus brought him and his family to absolute ruin within a few months in spite of the liberal answers which were made by Lord Rufford to many of his numerous appeals. Away in Norrington the poison had been purchased as much as three years ago, and yet Nickem had had the luck to find it out. When the Scrobbyites heard that Scrobby had gone all the way to Norrington to buy strychnine to kill rats they were Scrobbyites no longer. "I hope they'll hang 'un. I do hope they'll hang 'un," said Mr. Runce quite out loud from his crowded seat just behind the attorney's bench.

The barrister of course struggled hard to earn his money. Though he could not save his client he might annoy the other side. He insisted therefore on bringing the whole affair of the pheasants before the Court, and examined the Senator at great length. He asked the Senator whether he had not found himself compelled to sympathise with the wrongs he had witnessed. The Senator declared that he had witnessed no wrongs. Why then had he interfered? Because he had thought that there might be wrong, and because he wished to see what power a poor man in this country would have against a rich one. He was induced still to think that Goarly had been ill-treated about the pheasants;--but he could not take upon himself to say that he had witnessed any wrong done. But he was quite sure that the system on which such things were managed in England was at variance with that even justice which prevailed in his own country! Yes;--by his own country he did mean Mickewa. He could tell that learned gentleman in spite of his sneers, and in spite of his evident ignorance of geography, that nowhere on the earth's surface was justice more purely administered than in the great Western State of Mickewa. It was felt by everybody that the Senator had the best of it.

Mr. Scrobby was sent into durance for twelve months with hard labour, and Goarly was conveyed away in the custody of the police lest he should be torn to pieces by the rough lovers of hunting who were congregated outside. When the sentence had reached Mr. Runce's ears, and had been twice explained to him, first by one neighbour and then by another, his face a.s.sumed the very look which it had worn when he carried away his victuals from the Senator's side at Rufford Hall, and when he had turned his pony round on his own land on the previous evening. The man had killed a fox and might have killed a dozen hounds, and was to be locked up only for twelve months! He indignantly asked his neighbour what had come of Van Diemen's Land, and what was the use of Botany Bay.

On their way back to Rufford Hall, Lord Rufford would have been triumphant, had not the Senator checked him. "It's a bad state of things altogether," he said. "Of course the promiscuous use of strychnine is objectionable."

"Rather," said his Lordship.

"But is it odd that an utterly uneducated man, one whom his country has left to grow up in the ignorance of a brute, should have recourse to any measure, however objectionable, when the law will absolutely give him no redress against the trespa.s.s made by a couple of hundred hors.e.m.e.n?" Lord Rufford gave it up, feeling the Senator to be a man with whom he could not argue.

CHAPTER XVI.

AT LAST.

When once Mrs. Morton had taken her departure for London, on the day after her grandson's death, nothing further was heard of her at Bragton. She locked up everything and took all the keys away, as though still hoping,--against hope,--that the will might turn out to be other than she expected. But when the lawyer came down to read the doc.u.ment he brought the keys back with him, and no further tidings reached Dillsborough respecting the old woman. She still drew her income as she had done for half a century, but never even came to look at the stone which Reginald put up on the walls of Bragton church to perpetuate the memory of his cousin. What moans she made she made in silent obscurity, and devoted the remainder of her years to putting together money for members of her own family who took no notice of her.

After the funeral, Lady Ushant returned to the house at the request of her nephew, who declared his purpose of remaining at Hoppet Hall for the present. She expostulated with him and received from him an a.s.surance that he would take up his residence as squire at Bragton as soon as he married a wife,--should he ever do so. In the meantime he could, he thought, perform his duties from Hoppet Hall as well as on the spot. As a residence for a bachelor he preferred, he said, Hoppet Hall to the park. Lady Ushant yielded and returned once again to her old home,--the house in which she had been born,--and gave up her lodgings at Cheltenham. The word that he said about his possible marriage set her mind at work, and induced her to put sundry questions to him. "Of course you will marry?" she said.

"Men who have property to leave behind them usually do marry, and as I am not wiser than others, I probably may do so. But I will not admit that it is a matter of course. I may escape yet."

"I do hope you will marry. I hope it may be before I die, so that I may see her."

"And disapprove of her, ten to one."

"Certainly I shall not if you tell me that you love her."

"Then I will tell you so,--to prevent disagreeable results."

"I am quite sure there must be somebody that you like, Reginald," she said after a pause.

"Are you? I don't know that I have shown any very strong preference.

I am not disposed to praise myself for many things, but I really do think that I have been as undemonstrative as most men of my age."

"Still I did hope--"

"What did you hope?"

"I won't mention any name. I don't think it is right. I have observed that more harm than good comes of such talking, and I have determined always to avoid it. But--." Then there was another pause. "Remember how old I am, Reginald, and when it is to be done give me at any rate the pleasure of knowing it." Of course he knew to whom she alluded, and of course he laughed at her feeble caution. But he would not say a word to encourage her to mention the name of Mary Masters. He thought that he was sure that were the girl free he would now ask her to be his wife. If he loved any one it was her. If he had ever known a woman with whom he thought it would be pleasant to share the joy and labours of life, it was Mary Masters. If he could imagine that any one constant companion would be a joy to him, she would be that person. But he had been distinctly informed that she was in love with some one, and not for worlds would he ask for that which had been given to another. And not for worlds would he hazard the chance of a refusal. He thought that he could understand the delight, that he could thoroughly enjoy the rapture, of hearing her whisper with downcast eyes, that she could love him. He had imagination enough to build castles in the air in which she reigned as princess, in which she would lie with her head upon his bosom and tell him that he was her chosen prince. But he would hardly know how to bear himself should he ask in vain. He believed he could love as well as Lawrence Twentyman, but he was sure that he could not continue his quest as that young man had done.

When Lady Ushant had been a day or two at the house she asked him whether she might invite Mary there as her guest,--as her perpetual guest.--"I have no objection in life," he said;--"but take care that you don't interfere with her happiness."

"Because of her father and sisters?" suggested the innocent old lady.

"'Has she a father, has she a mother; Or has she a dearer one still than all other?'"

said Reginald laughing.

"Perhaps she has."

"Then don't interfere with her happiness in that direction. How is she to have a lover come to see her out here?"

"Why not? I don't see why she shouldn't have a lover here as well as in Dillsborough. I don't object to lovers, if they are of the proper sort;--and I am sure Mary wouldn't have anything else." Reginald told her she might do as she pleased and made no further inquiry as to Mary's lovers.

A few days afterwards Mary went with her boxes to Bragton,--Mrs.

Masters repeating her objections, but repeating them with but little energy. Just at this time a stroke of good fortune befell the Masters family generally which greatly reduced her power over her husband.

Reginald Morton had spent an hour in the attorney's office, and had declared his purpose of restoring Mr. Masters to his old family position in regard to the Bragton estate. When she heard it she felt at once that her dominion was gone. She had based everything on the growing inferiority of her husband's position, and now he was about to have all his glory back again! She had inveighed against gentlemen from the day of her marriage,--and here he was, again to be immersed up to his eyes in the affairs of a gentleman. And then she had been so wrong about Goarly, and Lord Rufford had been so much better a client! And ready money had been so much more plentiful of late, owing to poor John Morton's ready-handed honesty! She had very little to say about it when Mary packed her boxes and was taken in Mr.

Runciman's fly to Bragton.

Since the old days, the old days of all, since the days to which Reginald had referred when he asked her to pa.s.s over the bridge with him, she had never yet walked about the Bragton grounds. She had often been to the house, visiting Lady Ushant; but she had simply gone thither and returned. And indeed, when the house had been empty, the walk from Dillsborough to the bridge and back had been sufficient exercise for herself and her sisters. But now she could go whither she listed and bring her memory to all the old spots. With the tenacity as to household matters which characterised the ladies of the country some years since, Lady Ushant employed all her mornings and those of her young friend in making inventories of everything that was found in the house; but her afternoons were her own, and she wandered about with a freedom she had never known before. At this time Reginald Morton was up in London and had been away nearly a week. He had gone intending to be absent for some undefined time, so that Lady Ushant and Mrs. Hopkins were free from all interruption. It was as yet only the middle of March and the lion had not altogether disappeared; but still Mary could get out. She did not care much for the wind; and she roamed about among the leafless shrubberies, thinking,--probably not of many things,--meaning always to think of the past, but unable to keep her mind from the future, the future which would so soon be the present. How long would it be before the coming of that stately dame? Was he in quest of her now? Had he perhaps postponed his demand upon her till fortune had made him rich?

Of course she had no right to be sorry that he had inherited the property which had been his almost of right;--but yet, had it been otherwise, might she not have had some chance? But, oh, if he had said a word to her, only a word more than he had spoken already,--a word that might have sounded like encouragement to others beside herself, and then have been obliged to draw back because of the duty which he owed to the property,--how much worse would that have been!

She did own to herself that the squire of Bragton should not look for his wife in the house of a Dillsborough attorney. As she thought of this a tear ran down her cheek and trickled down on to the wooden rail of the little bridge.

"There's no one to give you an excuse now, and you must come and walk round with me," said a voice, close to her ear.

"Oh, Mr. Morton, how you have startled me!"

"Is there anything the matter, Mary?" said he, looking up into her face.

"Only you have startled me so."

"Has that brought tears into your eyes?"

"Well,--I suppose so," she said trying to smile. "You were so very quiet and I thought you were in London."

"So I was this morning, and now I am here. But something else has made you unhappy."