CHAPTER XX.
DISCUSSION.
Now Mrs. Fox, Doctor Jemmy's mother, was an enthusiastic woman. She wastwenty years younger than her husband, and felt herself fifty years hissenior (when genuine wisdom was needed) and yet in enterprise fiftyyears junior. The velocity of her brain had been too much for the rootsof her hair, as she herself maintained, and her best friends could notdeny it. Except that the top of her head was snow-white, and she utterlyscorned to disguise it, she looked little older than her daughterChristie, in some ways; though happily tougher. She was not too fat, andshe was not too thin; which is more than most people can tellthemselves, at the age of eight and forty. Into this ancient Countyrace, which had strengthened its roots by banking, she had brought afine vein of Devonian blood, very clearing for their complexions. Shehad shown some disdain for mercantile views; until she began to knowbetter, when her father, and others of her landed lineage slipped downthe hilltop into bankruptcy, without any Free-trade, or even tenants'superior rights, to excuse them. Then she perceived that mercantileviews are the only ones left to ensure a quiet man a fair prospect fromhis own front windows. She encouraged her husband to cherish the Bank,which at one time she had derided; and she quite agreed with him, thatno advances could save her own relations in their march downhill.
The elder James Fox, who like his father had refused a title--foralthough they were not Quakers now, they held to their oldsimplicity--Mr. James Fox of Foxden was a fine sample of the unmixedEnglishman. He had never owed a penny of his large fortune to anyunworthy trick of trade, or even to lucky gambling in stocks, or bittermortgages. Many people called him stubborn, and they were welcome totake that view of it. In business that opinion served him well, andsaved a lot of useless trouble. But he himself knew well, and his wifeknew even better, that though he would never budge an inch, for claim,or threat, or lawsuit, there was no man who gave a longer ell, whendrawn out by mercy, or even gentle equity.
But in the full vigour of his faculties, mental if not bodily--and thelatter had not yet failed him much--that mysterious blow descended,which no human science can avert, relieve, or even to its own contentexplain. One moment he was robust and active, quick with the pulse ofbusy life, strong with the powers of insight, foresight, discrimination,promptitude--another moment, and all was gone. Only a numb lumpremained, livid, pallid, deaf and dumb, sightless, breathless (beyond awheezy snore) incapable even of a dream or moan. And knowing all thesethings, men are proud!
His strong heart, and firm brain, bore him through; or rather theygradually shored him up; a fabric still upon the sands of time, butwaiting only for the next tidal wave.
Now the greatest physician, or metaphysician, that ever came into theworld, can tell us no more than an embryo could, what the relics of themind will be in such a case, or how far in keeping with its former self.Thoroughly pious men have turned blasphemers; very hard swearers havetaken to sweet hymns; tempers have been changed from diabolical toangelic; but the change more often has been the other way. Happily forhimself, and all about him, this fine old man was weakened only, and notperverted from his former healthful self. His memory was deranged, inveins and fibres, like an ostrich-plume draggled in a gale of wind andrain; but he knew his old friends, and the favoured of his heart, andbefore and above all, his faithful wife. He had fallen from his pride,with the lapse of other powers; and to those who had known him in hisstronger days, his present gentleness was touching, and his gratitudefor trifles affecting; but notwithstanding that, he was sometimes moreobstinate than ever.
"I wonder why Chris stays away so long;" he said as he sat one fine dayupon the terrace, for he was ordered to stay out of doors as much aspossible, and his wife as usual sat beside him. "She is gone to nurseJemmy through a very heavy cold, as I understood you to say, my dear.But my memory is not always quite clear now. But it must be some dayssince I heard that; and I miss little Chrissy with her cheerful face.You are enough of course, my dear Mary, and I very seldom think much ofanybody else. Still I long sometimes to see my little Chrissy."
"To be sure; and so do I. The house seems very sad without her;" repliedMrs. Fox, as if it could be merry now. "We won't give her more thananother day or two. But we must remember, dear, how differently poorJemmy is placed from what we are in this comfortable house. Only oneold rough Devonshire servant; and everybody knows what they are--a womanwho would warm his bed, as likely as not, with a frying-pan, and makehis tea out of the rain water boiler."
"He has no one to thank for it but himself."
After this delivery, the father of the family shut his mouth, which hestill could do as well as ever, though one of his arms hung helpless.
"And I did hear that there was some disturbance there, something I thinkabout the clergyman, who is a great friend of Jemmy's;" Mrs. Fox spokethis in all good faith, for Dr. Freeborn had put this turn upon a story,which had found its way into the house; "and you know what our Chris is,when she thinks any one attacks the Church--you may trust her for flyingto the rescue. At any rate so far as money goes."
"And money goes a long way, in matters eccles--you know what I mean--Ican't pronounce those long words now. Christie is too generous with hergood aunt's money. The trustees let her have it much too freely. Ishould not be much surprised if they get a hundred pounds out of Chris,at--let me see, what is the place called--something like a brooch ortrinket. Ah there, it's gone again!"
"You must not talk so much, my dear; and above all you must not try yourmemory. It is wonderfully good, I am sure, thank God! I only wish minewas half as good."
Now Mrs. Fox was quite aware that she had an exceedingly fine memory.
"Well, never mind;" resumed the invalid, after roving among all thejewels he could think of. "But I should be very glad before I die, tosee Chrissy married to Sir Henry Haggerstone, a man of the highestcharacter, as well as a very fine estate. Has he said anything to youabout it lately?"
"No, father;" Mrs. Fox always called him "father," when a family councilwas toward; "how could he while you--I mean why should he be in such ahurry? Christie is a girl who would only turn against him, if he were toworry her. She is a very odd child; she is not like her mother. Alittle spice of somebody else, I think, who has always contrived to havehis own way. And she hates the idea of being a stepmother; though thereare only two little girls after all, and Chrissy's son would be the heirof course. She says it is so frightfully unromantic, to marry a wealthywidower. But talk of the--I am sure I beg his pardon--but here comes SirHenry himself, with Dr. Freeborn. You had better see the Doctor first,my dear, while I take a turn with Sir Henry."
This gentleman was, as Mr. Fox had pronounced, of the very highestcharacter, wealthy moreover, and of pleasant aspect, and temper mild andequable. Neither was his age yet gone fatally amiss; though a few yearsoff would have improved it, as concerning Christie; for he was not morethan thirty-three, or thirty-four, and scarcely looked that, for he leda healthful life. But his great fault was, that he had no great fault;nothing extreme in any way about him, not even contempt for "extremepeople." He had been at Oxford, and had learned, by reading for a firstclass in classics (which he got) that virtue is a "habit of fore-choice,being in the mean that concerns ourselves, defined by reason, andaccording as the man of perception would define it."
Sir Henry was a man of very clear perception, and his nature waswell-fitted to come into definitions. He never did much thinking of hisown; for deeper minds had saved him all that trouble, and he was quitecontent to accept the results. There was nobody who could lead him much,and no one who could not lead him a little, when he saw a clear path togo along. This was not altogether the man to enchant romanticmaidenhood.
Christie cared for him about as much as she would for a habit, that wasin a mean. Not that he was in any way a prig, or laid down the law toany one. He had not kept up his Classics, for he had no real love forthem; and in those days, a man might get a first at Oxford, who couldscarcely scan a Latin hexameter, if he were exceptionally strong
in"Science"--then meaning Philosophy, before the age of "Stinks." To noneof these subjects did Christie pay heed--she did not care for the man;and that was all about it.
"You are quite right, Mrs. Fox. I think exactly as you do;" thisgentleman was replying to the lady of the house, as they walked upon thegentle slope towards the flower-garden; "there are no real Whigs, in thepresent headlong days. Men, like your husband, and myself, who havefancied ourselves in the happy mean, are either swept aside, or carrieddown the deluge. For the moment there seems to be a slight reaction; butit will not last. The rush will only be more headlong. And in privatelife it is just the same. Individual rights are to be no more respected.Everything belongs to everybody. I will tell you a little thing thathappened to myself, just as a specimen of the spirit of the age. A yearor two ago, I bought some old manorial rights, in a thinly peopled partof Devonshire; in fact at the Western end of the great Blackdown Range,a barren, furzy, flinty sort of place. By the by, not many miles awayfrom the place where your son has gone to live--Perlycross. I onlybought the manor to oblige a friend, who wanted a little ready money,and to go there now and then perhaps for a little rough shooting, forthe country is beautiful, and the air very fine. Well, the manorialrights included some quarries, or pits, or excavations of some sort,where those rough scythe-stones are dug, such as you see lying on thatlawn. The land itself was actually part of the manor, from a time beyondmemory or record; but it seems as if strangers had been allowed tosettle on the hillside, and work these ancient quarries, and sell theproduce on their own account, only paying a small royalty to the manor,every Martinmas, or about that time; not so much for the value of themoney, (though it would perhaps be considerable under a propercomputation) but as an acknowledgment of the ownership of the manor. ButI fear I am tiring you."
"Not at all, Sir Henry; I like any story of that sort. Our laws are sovery very queer."
"Sometimes they are. Well, my friend had not deceived me. He said thatthis Whetstone money was very hard to get, and was so trifling that hehad let it go sometimes, when the people objected to paying it, as theydid after any bad season. Last Martinmas, the matter slipped my memory,through domestic trouble. But this year, as the day approached, I sentorders to a man, (a rough sort of Game-keeper, who lives near there, andlooks after the shooting and gravel and peat,) to give notice at thepits that I meant to have my money. A very close corporation they seemto have established, and have made their encroachments uncommonlysecure, being quite distinct in race, and character, dialect, and evendress, I believe, from the settled people round them. Now what messagedo you think they sent me?"
"Something very insolent, I have no doubt." Mrs. Fox did not callherself even a Whig, but a downright determined Tory.
"This was it--my man got the schoolmaster to put it into writing, and Ihappen to have it in my pocket. 'Not a penny will we pay this year. Butif you like to come yourself, and take a turn at the flemmer'--somethingthey use for getting out the stone--'we won't charge you anything foryour footing.'"
"Your footing on your own land! Well, that is very fine. What do youmean to do, Sir Henry?"
"Grin, and bear it, I suppose, Mrs. Fox. You know what the tendency ofthe time is, even in the Law-courts. And of course, all the Press wouldbe down upon me, as a monster of oppression, if I ventured to assert myrights. And though I am out of the House ever since the 'Broom ofReform' (as the papers call it) swept my two little seats away, I mightlike to stand again some day; and what a Whetstone this would be for myadversaries! And I hear that these people are not a bad lot, rough, anduncivilized, and wonderfully jealous over the 'rights' they have robbedme of; but among themselves faithful, and honest, and quiet, and sober,which is the strangest thing of all in England. As for their message,why they speak out plainly, and look upon their offer as a greatconcession to me. And we in this more enlightened part must allow forthe manners of that neighbourhood. In fact this is such a perfecttrifle, after what they have been doing at Perlycross. If I were amagistrate about there----"
"At Perlycross! What do you mean? Some little matter about theclergyman? I want to know all about that, Sir Henry. It seems sostrange, that Christie never mentioned it."
Sir Henry perceived that he had "put his foot in it." Dr. Freeborn hadwarned him that the "Sacrilege in Devon"--as the Somerset papers hadbegun to call it--must be kept most carefully from the knowledge of hispatient, and from that of the lady also; for there was no saying how shemight take it. And now Mrs. Fox could not fail to find out everything.He was ready to bite off his tongue, as ladies put it.
"Oh, ah--I was thinking of something--which had better not be referredto perhaps. Not quite fit to be discussed, when one has the honour ofbeing with ladies. But about those very extraordinary people. I haveheard some things that are highly interesting, things that I am certainyou would like to hear----"
"Not half so much as I want to hear the story about the parish, where myson lives, and my daughter is staying, and will not come back--for somereason which we cannot make out. I must insist, Sir Henry, upon hearingall that you know. I am not a young woman, and know the world prettywell by this time. You will not offend me, by anything you say; but youwill, by anything you hide."
Sir Henry Haggerstone looked about, and saw that he was in for it. Theelderly lady--as some might call her--looked at him, with that prettydoubt, which ladies so thoroughly understand how to show, and intend tobe understood without expression. The gentleman glanced at her; he hadno moustache to stroke--for only cavalry officers, and cads of the mostpretentious upturn, as yet wore ginger hackles--a relief still to comein a downier age.
"My dear Mrs. Fox, there is nothing improper, from a lady's point ofview, I mean, in the very sad occurrence at Perlycross. It is a questionfor the local authorities. And not one for me to meddle with."
"Then why did you speak of it? Either tell me all; or say that youwon't, and leave me to find out." The lady had the gentleman, the Toryhad the temporizer, on the nail.
"We are nothing in your hands;" he murmured, and with perfect truth;for when the question comes to the pulling out of truth, what chance hasa man against a clever woman, ten times as quick as he is, and piercingevery glance?
"I am truly sorry that it has come to this;" Mrs. Fox did not sympathisewith his regret, but nodded, as if to say--"no cure now for that; for mypart, I am rather glad." "It was simply through terror of distressingyou, that all your best friends have combined, as I may say, at leasthave thought it wiser----"
"Then they made a great mistake. And I am not at all thankful to any ofthem. Let me sit down here. And now for all this frightful wonder! IsJemmy dead? Let me have the worst at once."
This was a sudden relief to Sir Henry, enabling him to offer immediatecomfort, and to whisper--"how could you imagine such a thing?"
"No my dear madam," he continued, having now the upper hand, and hersbeneath it, "I have the pleasure of assuring you that your noble son isin the very best of health, and improving by his admirable knowledge ofmedicine the health of all around him. It is acknowledged that he hasadvanced the highest interests of the Profession."
"That he was sure to do, Sir Henry. And he has a copy of my deargrandmother's recipe for the pounded cherry-stone elixir."
"With all the resources of modern science added, and his own trainedinsight in their application. But the worst of it is, that these leadingintellects, as you must have experienced long ago, can never escape asad amount of narrow professional jealousy. Your son must have fallenamong those heavy-witted Devonshire doctors, like a thunderbolt--orworse, a phenomenon come to heal their patients _gratis_."
"That would drive them to do anything--to poison him, if they had thecourage. For every one knows how they run up their bills."
Having brought the lady thus to the practical vein, Sir Henry (as gentlyas possible, and as it were by the quarter drachm) administered thesombre draught he was now bound to exhibit. Jemmy's dear mother took itwith a closeness of attention, and critical appreciation, se
ldom foundin the physical recipients in such cases. But to the administrator'sgreat surprise, her indignation was by no means vivid, in the directionanticipated.
"I am heartily glad that I know this at last. I ought to have been toldof it long ago;" said Mrs. Fox, looking resolutely at Sir HenryHaggerstone. "A very great mistake, and want of judgment on the part ofDr. Freeborn. What a frightful risk to run--supposing my husband hadbeen told suddenly of this!"
"All has been done for the best, my dear madam. The great anxiety was tokeep it from him."
"And who was the proper one, to see to that? I should have thought, hiswife and constant nurse. Was it thought impossible that I should showdiscretion? Clever men always make one great mistake. They believe thatno woman can command her tongue. If they had their own only half as wellcontrolled, there would not be a tenth part of the mischief in theworld."
"You are quite right there. That is a very great truth, and exceedinglywell expressed;" replied Sir Henry, not that he was impressed with it sodeeply, but that he wanted to appease the lady. "However, as regards Dr.Freeborn's ideas, I really know very little; no doubt he thought it wasfor your own good too, not to be burdened at such a time with anothergreat anxiety."
"He has taken too much upon himself. It would have been no great anxietyto me. My son is quite capable of fighting his own battles. And the sameorders issued to my son and daughter! At last I can understand poorChristie's letters--why she has been so brief, for fear of losing allself-control, like her mother. Stupid, stupid, clever men! Why there isinfinitely less chance now of Mr. Fox ever knowing it. You may tell oursapient doctor that. Perhaps I shall astonish him a little. I'll proveto him that I can control my tongue, by never mentioning the subject tohim."
"Excuse me, Mrs. Fox, if I make one or two remarks. May I speak withoutreserve, as an old friend of the family, and one who has had a greatdeal to do with criminal--at least I mean to say with publicproceedings in this county?"
"To be sure, Sir Henry. I shall be much obliged by any suggestions youmay make."
"In the first place then, it is quite impossible to leave your son underthis imputation. I can quite understand how he has been impeded intaking any steps for his own vindication, by his sense of duty towardshis father and yourself. In that respect, his behaviour has been mostadmirable. He has absolutely done nothing; not even protested publicly,and challenged any evidence against him, but been quite content to lieat the mercy of any wicked slanderers. And for this there can be noreason but one--that public proceedings would increase the stir, andmake it certain that the whole must come to his father's knowledge."
"To be sure, Sir Henry. There can be no other reason." The old friend ofthe family was surprised at the tone in which Mrs. Fox uttered thisopinion.
"Of course not. And so it is all the more incumbent upon his family toclear him. Let me tell you what I should do, if I were his father, insound health, and able to attend to business. Of course I am too youngto speak so"--he had suddenly remembered Christie--"but that youunderstand; and you also admit that I am not likely to offer advice,unless asked for."
"I beg you particularly to give it. You are a Magistrate of large, ifnot long, experience. And I know that you are our true friend."
"That you may rely upon, Mrs. Fox. And you know how much I admire yourson; for enthusiasm is a rare gift now, and becoming rarer every year,in these days of liberal sentiment. If the case were my own, I shouldjust do this. I should make application at once to the Court of King'sBench, to have the matter sifted. It is no use shilly-shallying with anyCounty Authorities. A Special Commission has been granted in cases lessimportant. But without pressing for that, it is possible to get thewhole question investigated by skilled officers from head-quarters.Those who bring the charge should have done it, and probably would havedone it, if they had faith in their own case. But they are playing adeeper game; according at least to my view of the matter. They have laidthemselves open to no action. Your son lies helpless, and must 'live itdown;' as people say glibly, who have never had to do it. Is this athing you mean to allow?"
"You need scarcely ask me that, Sir Henry. But remember that I knownothing of the particulars, which have been kept so--so amiably from myknowledge."
"Yes. But I know them all--at least so far as they can be gathered fromthe Devonshire Journals, and these are very careful what they say. Inspite of all the enemies who want to keep it going, the whole thing maybe brought to a point at once, by applying for a warrant in the Court ofKing's Bench, with the proper information sworn. They would grant it atonce. Your son would appear, and be released of course on bail; for thecase is only one of misdemeanour. Then the proper officers would be sentdown, and the real criminals detected."
"A warrant against my Jemmy! Oh, Sir Henry, you can never mean that."
"Simply as a matter of form, Mrs. Fox. Ask your solicitors. They are theproper people. And they should have been consulted long ago, and wouldhave been, but for this terrible disadvantage. I only suggest thequickest way to bring the matter to an issue. Otherwise the doubt willhang over your son, with his friends and his conscience to support him.And what are these among so many?"
This was not altogether a counsel of perfection, or even of a very loftyview; but unhappily we have to contend with a world neither perfect norvery lofty. There was no other hole to be found in the plan, or even tobe picked by the ingenuity of a lady. But who that is worthy of thatname cannot slip round the corner gracefully, whatever is presented?
"I thank you so deeply, Sir Henry, for your very kind interest in thisstrange matter," said Mrs. Fox, looking all gratitude, with a smile thatshone through tears; "and for your perfectly invaluable advice. You seeeverything so distinctly, and your experience is so precious. To thinkof my poor boy in such a position! Oh dear, oh dear! I really have notthe courage to discuss it any more. But a kind heart like yours willmake every allowance for the feelings of a mother."
Thus was Sir Henry neatly driven from the hall of council to thecarpeted chamber of comfort. But he knew as well as if the lady had putit into so many words, that she meant to accept none of his advice. Herreason, however, for so resolving was far beyond his perception, simpleas it was and natural.
Mrs. Fox had known little of the young doctor's doings, since he hadsettled at Perlycross, having never even paid him a visit there, for herhusband was sore upon that subject. So that she was not acquainted withthe depth of Jemmy's regard for Sir Thomas, and had never dreamed of hislove for Inez; whereas she was strongly and bitterly impressed with hislifelong ardour for medical research. The mother felt no indignantyearning for prompt and skilled inquiry; because she suspected, in thebottom of her heart, that it would prove her son the criminal.