A ROMANCE OF SOCIAL LIFE.
About four years ago there lived, in the neighbourhood of Kentish Town,a wedded couple of the name of Green.
Mr. Green was a merchant, carrying on business in the City inco-partnership with a German gentleman; and in the enjoyment of a goodincome from "a house" at the head of which it was his pride to stand.
The couple had not been long united in the holy bonds of matrimony. Whenhe married, he considered himself fortunate in obtaining for his partnera pretty little brunette of a woman, somewhere about thirty years ofage, and of no mean accomplishments. With this lady for his wife, Mr.Green lived for a period of three years in an easy and comfortable, notto say happy or blissful, state. The couple had no children; but withthat exception they had all the ingredients which should contribute tothe material and social happiness of human beings.
The disparity in age between Mr. and Mrs. Green was perhaps acircumstance that contributed to limit the sources of affection; but, asevery body said, they jogged along very cheerily, and the serenity andcalmness of their lives made them the objects of a good deal of envy.
Mrs. Green had been the daughter of a confidential clerk to herhusband. She had lost her mother early in life, and her father died whenshe was but eighteen years of age. His salary in the house of Messrs.Green and Schnackwether had been, for a long period prior to his death,very liberal, and he might, with reasonable economy, have saved a fewhundreds of pounds out of it if he had been so inclined. He ought,certainly, to have left some provision behind him in the shape of a lifeassurance, but he did not. He lived entirely up to, or somewhat beyond,his means. Miss Thomson, his daughter, was consequently obliged to earnher subsequent livelihood, which she did as a daily governess. Herexperience in this vocation was not, I dare say, much unlike theexperience of other young women in that position, of which the readerwill have a tolerably accurate notion, and therefore I will abstain fromdescribing it. It may be enough to say, that it was a cheerless, hard,and mortifying experience. She confessed that rebuffs and petty insultsshut up, and the wearing influence of consecutive labour dried up, thewells of female emotion, gave a certain piquancy or sharpness to herthoughts, rendered her, indeed, distrustful of the world, and cynical,if not calculating and selfish.
During her girlhood, while her father lived, and after his death, butbefore her marriage, Mrs. Green had received many kindnesses from herlate parent's master. He was attached to his clerk Thomson by that sortof attachment, and to that extent, which long and faithful servicebegets in the mind of an employer.
To do the father of Mrs. Green simple justice, it must be stated that hehad never robbed; peculated, or been in the slightest degree unfaithfulto the house he served, or its members.
Just before he died, the clerk received a promise from his master, Mr.Green, that little Helen should want for nothing as long as she lived,which promise was kept during her subsequent spinstership by inquiries,every quarter, with methodical exactness, how she was getting on, andwhat she wanted; answers to which questions were frankly given by her onall occasions, and betrayed to the merchant some requirement on her partevery three months. It would now be a dress or a bonnet; it would onanother occasion be the means of paying a quarter's rent of herapartments; it would again be something else. The article itself, or acheque for its purchase or satisfaction, was uniformly forthcoming.
In this way a communication had been always maintained from the day ofThomson's death to the day of Miss Thomson's marriage between the youngwoman and her subsequent husband.
The courtship of the merchant was very prosaic. How long he had made uphis mind that little Helen should be his wife, or at least have thechance of becoming his wife, is more than I can tell; but certain it is,that on one quarter-day--I mean her quarter-day--she received a note, inwhich she was invited to the house of the merchant. He said in thisletter of invitation that he was very anxious to know how she wasgetting on, and what her prospects were; in fact, he said he wasanxious to redeem the promise he had given to her dying father by theinquiries he had to make, and the intention he had formed of providing,if he could, for her welfare as long as she lived,
The last sentence was the only clue offered to the design of herbenefactor. That clue was enough. It showed to her acute and reflectingmind what she might expect from the merchant, and she was therebyenabled to survey at her leisure, before the appointed interview, theprospect laid open to her. She balanced in her own mind all the apparentadvantages and all the disadvantages of becoming Mrs. Green.
She had no very high respect for Mr. Green's character,--yet she had noaversion to him. He was, indeed, one of those easy-going, even-naturedmen, who neither arouse affection nor excite the opposite of love. Hewas by no means the ideal which she had formed of a husband. Yet howcould she, who had been a poor daily governess all her life, release herambition in this respect? She had indulged the hope, as I dare say mostyoung women have hoped, to marry a man handsome, educated, and ofgentlemanly training--with a fortune. She would have been satisfied witha man of good standing or prospects in either one of the liberalprofessions--the army, navy, the law, or even the church. But adispassionate consideration of Mr. Green's letter drove away all thephantasms of such ambition. She came, by a process of the severestreasoning, to the conclusion, in the first place, that, if she rejectedthe merchant's intended proposal, she might offend him. That was not,after all, so very serious a matter, as she was not very largelydependent upon his bounty; yet she could hardly afford to lose a friend.This conclusion led her to survey the bright side of Mr. Green'sintended proposal. She would certainly, as Mrs. Green, be mistress of aliberal establishment. His years denied the reasonable prospect of herever having a child. Yet this young woman, hardened by experience, saw acompensation for that denial of a true woman's hope in the freedom froma mother's cares and troubles. It was something to get rid of thedrudgery of toil, and escape the snubbing and rebuffs of her presentvocation. "Yes," at length she said to herself, in forming herresolution, "I might do worse than become Mrs. Green."
There was only one small difficulty--there was a prior attachment."Well," she said to herself, "I shall have to get rid of Edward. That isnot so very difficult either. I do not think he would break his heartabout it. I know I should not break mine if he were to throw me off. Ido not believe in broken hearts. He cannot bring an action against mefor breach of promise of marriage. That is a pleasant thing to know. Iheard Mr. Jones, who is a lawyer, telling his wife at the tea-table onlythe other evening, that a gentleman never got any good by that, and Ithink he said a farthing was about the price a gentleman's damages wouldalways be assessed at. Well, I could pay that sum without much injury tomy own purse; and if any proceedings should be brought against myhusband after I have married him. I suppose he would be responsible forthem, among my other obligations, but I would pay that sum out of mypin-money."
Miss Thomson agreed within herself to become Mrs. Green, and had so farrealised this speculation in the lottery of life, that she began tosketch her future home, make arrangements for her bridal trousseau, &c.,within ten minutes after forming her resolution.
Miss Thomson's anticipations were correct. Her benefactor told her hehad noticed she had been a very hard-working girl. The way she hadstriven to keep herself as a lady out of her own earnings, with suchlittle assistance as he had felt bound to render her, reflected thehighest possible credit upon her. He had noticed her conduct--he mightsay with admiration. He had never beheld such a combination of all thevirtues which make up a good woman as he had seen in her. Now, he hopedhe should not frighten or startle her by a communication that he wasgoing to make. He had been living a lonely life, she was aware. He wasnot married. She knew he had no sister who could manage his household,and secure him those attentions and comforts in which he thought hemight reasonably indulge after having been, he might say, a verysuccessful man in trade.
During his speech Mr. Green stammered a little, and betrayed an unusualhesitation. At this point he had
greater difficulty in articulation.
However, he proceeded to say that his admiration for her, and his beliefin her virtues, and the other circumstances he had mentioned, had ledhim to offer her his hand and his heart.
The lady behaved as all ladies can, and I believe do, in suchcircumstances.
She delivered a very nice speech, which had been many times rehearsed inher bedchamber, and on the pavement as she trudged to and from the houseof Mr. Jones, which, as a daily governess, she was in the habit oftraversing, and at other times and places. Gratitude was a word thatthickly interlarded her periods. She said that she did not know how toaccept the proposal he made her, and, after a skilful pause or two,having come to the conclusion that there was no danger in a little delay(and, aside with the reader let me add, become convinced that there wasno prospect of his withdrawing the offer), she craved time to considerhis most noble proposal--not on her own account, because, if she was aselfish thing, he would see that she must at once say yes--but becauseshe scarcely felt equal to the position, and because the prospect ofsuch an elevation dazzled and bewildered her little brain.
This was the sum and substance of Miss Thomson's speech.
The reader has already been informed that Mr. Green and Miss Thomsonwere married, and his imagination will supply the links in the narrativebetween the last interview and the realisation of that event.
During the almost monotonous life Mr. and Mrs. Green lived, there wouldof course occasionally arise small vexations. Not that they quarrelled.Nothing of that sort marred their happiness.
The vexations I speak of were of the most simple and ordinary kind. Afriend promised to come and dine with them, and did not keep thatpromise. The tradesmen were not punctual in the delivery of their goods.The wine-merchant occasionally deceived Mr. Green, which caused himannoyance. The dressmaker or the milliner was not so exact as he or sheought perhaps to have been in executing Mrs. Green's orders. And thosesort of things annoyed the one or the other of them.
Another annoyance in this house arose from--what Mr. Henry Mayhew hasentitled the greatest plague in life--a bad servant. They had one or twobad servants, and on several occasions Mrs. Green made the observation,not, I think, quite unique--a sort of remark, on the other hand, whichhad been made by other ladies, and I believe will be again--that it wasimpossible to get a good servant.
However, one good servant was at last obtained. She was a young womanabout twenty-four or twenty-five years of age. She was, to say the leastabout her merits, somewhat pretty. I have heard her described asbeautiful. When I last saw her, I thought her exceedingly beautiful. Shewas, moreover, by no means an illiterate girl. She had received a fairamount of education--a much better education than girls in her stationusually receive.
In consequence of the superior manners of this girl she was admitted toa considerable share of the confidence and respect of both her masterand her mistress, and was allowed an amount of discretion in thearrangements of the household which is not usually given or permitted insuch cases. Mrs. Green contemplated, with her husband's approval, theextension of their establishment by the engagement of a third servant,and elevating this young woman to the position of a recognised companionto the lady.
Some time after this notion had been formed, there was discovered a newseries of annoyances in the house of Mr. Green. A number of portablearticles of value were missed. How they went appeared one of thegreatest of all possible human mysteries. Discovery seemed impossible,and the irritation of the husband was excessive. His wife, moreover,inveighed in the bitterest terms against the undetected thief.
It was agreed between Mr. and Mrs. Green to lay all sorts of traps. Theydid so, but did not succeed in fixing any body with the crime.
The reader will imagine how such an affair operated. Not only didsuspicion begin with the lowest and end with the highest of the threeservants in the household, but it embraced every one of the few friendswho came to see Mr. or Mrs. Green; and in the failure to discover thedelinquent, or get the foundation for a rational and decided suspicion,even supernatural agencies were beginning to be hinted at by the wife.She, however, always prefaced her hints of this kind to her husband aswomen do their ideas of that sort, by a declaration that she was notsuperstitious, but if she was, &c. &c.
At length the loss of a gold watch, which Mr. Green had presented to hiswife on her marriage, with a gold chain, drove that man pretty near theboundary of madness. When he first heard of it, he was frantic. He ravedand he cursed, uttering language such as his wife had never heard fromhis lips before against some person or persons unknown, and vowing thedirest vengeance against the offender. He declared that if he or shewere his own brother or sister (which obviously could not be, as he hadno brother or sister), he would transport him or hang him or her. And healso said that the worst feature of the case was the total impossibilityin tracing the thief. He did not like to be beaten in that manner. Itwas so deuced aggravating not to know what had become of the things;that is, who had stolen them. It was such a hard thing to be suspectingall the servants and their friends. Was he to dismiss all the servants?If so, how did he know that he should then get rid of the thief? Was heto banish all his friends from his house? How did he know that it wassome pretended friend that was robbing them? He finished in mutterings,which, although not capable of being accurately embalmed in printer'sink, may be safely interpreted as imprecations and direful threats.
In this mode his conversation with his wife one evening rambled; and atthe conclusion of his incoherent ejaculations, he started to his feet asif he had made a grand discovery. "By G--, it must be somebody in thehouse. It must be one of the servants. It must be that girl you have sofondled and caressed. The ungrateful wretch! If I find it out to be her,and I must find it out, I will have her arrested, prosecuted,transported."
His wife was terrified. The idea of prosecuting this poor girl, whoselife in many respects resembled her own,--the chief point of differencebeing, in fact, that she had not been able to catch a merchanthusband,--told on Mrs. Green's sympathies. Yet, as she said to herhusband--if he were right--it was horrid ingratitude in that girl to robthem so--if she had done it.
"But suppose," suggested the wife, "we should be mistaken, how cruelwill be the suspicions we have engendered!"
"Cruel!" exclaimed the husband; "yes, if we are mistaken. But how can webe mistaken?"
He ran through the circumstances under which several articles of valuehad been lost, to show that no friend or acquaintance could have robbedthem.
Burglary was impossible, because of the frequency, the width of time andoccasion, and the comparative smallness, of the plunder.
It must, at all events, be one or other of the servants; and he felt itto be his duty to investigate the matter thoroughly. He was determinedto do this. It was a duty they owed to themselves, and the otherservants, and all their friends, and to the world, that this thiefshould be detected.
Mrs. Green said she could not bring her mind to a prosecution. She saidthat, at all events, the most she would do was to turn away either ofthe servants who was discovered. The case was certainly very bad, andthe thief deserved all he or she got.
The husband reserved his decision. Perhaps, if the wretch confessed, hemight be disposed to listen to her appeal for mercy. If that girl (forhe persisted it must be her) dared to belie the evidence which must begot against her, he would have no compunction in hanging her.
With that kind of rashness or folly which men under such circumstancescommit, he turned to his wife, and most unreasonably said to her, "Now,Helen, my dear, you must find out the thief for me. I know it must bethat girl. Now, find her out."
Among the little trinkets Mrs. Green possessed were a bracelet and alocket, neither ofwhich had hitherto been missed.
Both of them had been seen by her and her husband within two days beforethe present conversation. She missed them, as she afterwards explained,the day following this conversation. It was very strange that theyshould have disappeared just at th
at time. For her part, she would, ifshe could, screen the culprit; but her husband's mandate left her nodiscretion. She was to find out the thief. What to do she did not know.She thought of searching the girl's boxes--or of having them searched bya policeman. No, she would not do that. She hoped that her husband wouldnot prosecute. She therefore contented herself by communicating thisfurther loss to Mr. Green, and explaining to him the reasons which hadstayed her in the extreme means of discovery.
Mr. Green, on his return home, was uneasy and excited. Something hadseemingly crossed him in the City. I believe an advice his housereceived that morning told the firm of the bankruptcy of a Hamburgcorrespondent. This fact had soured the merchant's temper, and inflamedhis desire for vengeance.
When his wife communicated her suspicions, he at once insisted upon asearch of the girl and of her trunks.
Just at this moment, or before the resolution was carried out, a frienddropped in to see them. He observed a gloom on the countenance of themerchant, and began to rally him. The visitor wanted to know whether thefirm of Green and Schnackwether were going to appear in next Tuesday's_Gazette_, and what the devil was the matter with him. He did not careto avow his loss in the City, and found an adequate explanation in hislosses at home.
This friend suggested that examining the trunks was perhaps not anunwise thing; but he also joined in the wife's appeal for mercy, saidthat he thought the better plan would be to send the girl off to herfriends, if she had any, and that he would not advise the expense andtrouble of a prosecution.
The merchant, however, fully explained his reasons for not acceding tothe last suggestion, and resolved upon the search.
The three servants were called into the room which Mr. Green denominatedhis library, and, in the presence of his friend and his wife, they werecatechised. They all stoutly denied the crime. They all shed tears, andsobbed, and demanded an investigation. They each resented the suspicionas cruel and unjust. A boy engaged as page and kitchen-assistant wasdefiant, and hinted vaguely that his father and mother would not standit; that Mr. Green would hear about it; and that he would not stay inthe house another moment after his boxes were searched--which they mightbe at once.
The search began with the boxes of the young male servant, and nothingwas traced in them.
The trunks of the favoured young woman of superior beauty andaccomplishments were next searched. In one of them was found one ofthese trinkets and a duplicate of the other.
Mr. Green's rage knew no bounds. In vain the girl protested herinnocence, and declared it was the wicked device of some wretch for herdestruction, or horrid conspiracy by some dreadful enemy to blast herreputation and dishonour her poor parents, which planted the evidenceagainst her.
The merchant told her that if she confessed her crime he might forgiveher. She would not admit a crime that, she said, she had not committed.
Mrs. Green remonstrated with the girl about her obstinacy, and advisedher that it would be better to confess an offence which was so fairlybrought home to her, and against the evidence of which it was impossiblefor a single moment to contend. The girl threw herself upon hermistress's sympathy, hoping that _she_ at least could not think herguilty of the crime attributed to her, although appearances were so muchagainst her.
At last, under the cross-fire from these accusers, the young woman, whostill refused to confess, dropped into a chair, and, in tones of agony,implored God to witness that she had never taken a thing that did notbelong to her from any human being.
Mr. Green said this was more than he could stand. Such frightfulhypocrisy, such horrid cant, such blasphemy, was the grossest outrageupon Heaven he had ever beheld. He told the boy to fetch a policeman,which service the lad rendered with alacrity. The already-convictedthief was given into the custody of the officer, taken to thestation-house, and locked up.
The next day at the police-court the evidence of these facts was laidbefore the magistrate. The pawnbroker who had taken in the pledge wasnot able to identify the prisoner as the female who had pawned thearticle; but said that she was about the height, age, and appearance ofthe prisoner, although he would not swear to her. It was pledged, hesaid, about the hour of twelve in the morning; and Mrs. Green beingcalled upon to give evidence as to the movements of her servant, with aview of confirming or breaking down the pawnbroker's suspicion--as thecase might be--was obliged to say that Eliza had been out on an errandfor her mistress between eleven and twelve o'clock on the day referredto.
The scene in that police-court was one of the most painful things everwitnessed. The prisoner had no professional assistance. No expertattorney was there to help or mar her defence. All she did, and all shesaid, was a repetition of what she had told her mistress and master andtheir friend the night before. She protested that she was as innocentas an unborn child; that her hands had been trained by parents (whosememory she revered, and who tenderly loved her) to honest industry; andthat she had no more perpetrated these thefts than the worthymagistrate. She appealed to her mistress to bear evidence of her generalcharacter. (Mr. Green was not in court.) Her mistress gave her a generalgood character, and expressed the grief of herself and her husband atthe discovery in the servant's boxes.
The magistrate put a question or two to the mistress, who seemed tobetray an idea that one of the other servants, or some friend, had beenthe thief; or that, at least, the accused had not been, although she didnot say as much in distinct terms.
The tone and manner of the girl had evidently impressed the magistratewith the belief that she was not in her proper place when in that dockbefore him as a criminal. He, however, remarked that the case was one ofvery grave suspicion, and that he should remand her for a week, in orderthat inquiries might be made, with a view to getting further evidenceupon the case.
The accused had looked forward to her appearance in court as the ordealwhich would establish her innocence. She had never doubted for a momentthat a police magistrate would unravel the mystery, and turn the tide offalse suspicion from her. When she heard the last words fall from thelips of the presiding justice, and ascertained that she was to be sentback to something like the loathsome cell she had passed the previousnight in, her spirits gave way. She uttered one heart-rending shriek,swooned, and was carried down from the dock--senseless.
Mrs. Green narrated circumstantially to Mr. Green what had taken placein court that afternoon, with a minute exactness, as he sipped his wineafter dinner. As she did so, I believe he half repented the prosecutionof this poor girl, although not a shadow of a doubt rested upon his mindas to her guilt. He said he thought it was a pity she had not confessed.As the hours rolled on, and bedtime approached, and he was aboutentering the solemnity of night--when, I am inclined to think, men'sbetter thoughts usually gain the ascendency (that is, unless the thinkerbe _intent_ on the perpetration of crime)--he confessed that he did notknow what to do; that he thought the poor girl ought to have an attorneyemployed for her; and that he would see his lawyer about it in themorning.
Next morning after having perused his letters, Mr. Green went to consultMr. Scrowle, his private solicitor, about the engagement of some otherattorney for the defence of the girl. Mr. Scrowle, however, put rather anew complexion on the affair. When he heard the previous good characterof the accused; when he was informed of her solemn protestations ofinnocence in the house; when it transpired that the boy had run for apoliceman with such pleasant, not to say indecent, haste; and was toldthat the magistrate was impressed by the girl's declaration ofinnocence,--Mr. Scrowle suggested to his client, Mr. Green, that hisservant had possibly been the victim of what is called by thieves a"plant;" that one of the servants (perhaps that boy) might have been thethief, and might have placed the things in the girl's box for thepurpose of directing suspicion upon her. Mr. Green did not think itlikely that his attorney was correct, because of the difficulty the boywould have in getting at the room from which the trinkets were taken;but his lawyer, in reply, said he did not think much of such anargument, because thieves found o
pportunities of getting what theywanted under the most adverse or difficult circumstances. The attorneythen suggested that Mr. Green might possibly get into trouble over thematter himself.
Many reasons, but particularly the last reason, inclined Mr. Scrowle toendorse the suggestion of his client, that the girl should be providedwith legal assistance, procured at the cost of the prosecutor; and, whenthis point had been settled, Mr. Green told his lawyer he thought that,after all, the girl had been punished enough, and that he should nothave any objection whatever to letting her off, if it could be arranged,although she was an ungrateful and an obstinate minx for not confessing.
Mr. Green, who was a somewhat careful, not to say a penurious man, withgreat reluctance consented to give his solicitor authority to take whatsteps he might deem necessary,--either to pursue or to withdraw from theprosecution, to defend the girl, to unravel the mystery of the case, andto arrange it if possible, or thought that step expedient.
Mr. Green's solicitor, at this stage of the business, sent for me. I gotleave to accompany the attorney who was employed for the defence (actingin the capacity of his clerk) to the house of detention, where we had aninterview with the poor girl. It was one of the most painful scenes Ihave ever gone through. She had completely fascinated the matron and thefemale warders, who, accustomed to deal uniformly with crime, were slowto believe in any theory of a prisoner's innocence; yet they believedthis girl perfectly innocent; and relying upon my experience of humannature, I almost immediately wrote her down as innocent.
It was evident to me, as I told her legal adviser, that a "plant" hadbeen made upon her.
When he came out of the gaol, like a blackguard as he was, he said tome, "You must not let the case go off at the next examination, becauseboth you and I ought to have some costs out of it." With difficulty Iwas prevented grasping the fellow by the throat. I did, however,suppress my loathing and indignation, and played the hypocrite with himsufficiently to suggest that it would be a good thing if we could gether off at once. There would be more credit attaching to us, I argued,than if the magistrate should commit the girl at the next examinationfor trial, and some ranting barrister of the Old-Bailey school got heroff, and obtained all the merit. As to costs, I suggested that mostlikely some arrangement could be made for a fixed sum, so that he mightearn as much by a successful defence at the next magistrates' meeting asat the sessions. These arguments had their weight with the attorney,and he soon coincided with me in thinking that we had better bring thecase to as speedy a termination as we could.
At the suggestion of Mr. Green's own private attorney, I took a note ofintroduction to him at his house, with a view of consulting him directlyon the facts of this case.
I was immediately shown into the library, where I found the merchant andhis wife talking; and I was led into the drawing-room by Mr. Green, as Ithought for the purpose of making a demonstration or producing an effectupon me.
We left Mrs. Green in the library. As Mr. Green, in the drawing-room,began to relate to me his conviction of the girl's guilt, my eye restedupon a splendid piano, the lid of which was closed, and, as I afterwardsfound, fastened, but jammed in which I thought I saw the corner of anote.
Here, I said to myself, is a clue. Something has been concealed in thatpiano for the purpose, I dare say, of removal to the pawnbroker's, orassayer's, hereafter. In imagination I dimly perceived, through thewalnut-tree lid of the piano, something wrapped in that envelope ofwhich a corner was palpably visible.
I did not venture to disclose my thoughts at once to Mr. Green. I didnot know what effect any surprise might have upon him. I did not knowthat he might not spoil my game by some indiscretion on his part, ifabruptly let into an explanation, &c. I let him talk, and I talked; butI thought also none the less.
Thus I mused as we chatted. Could that be a corner of an envelope, orwas it a stray fragment of paper? It might or it might not be a clue. Itmight be nothing, after all, but an accidental bit of paper; or perhapsone of Mrs. Green's domestic accounts, laid there by herthoughtlessness.
No, it was a clue. It might not be a trinket. It might be a letter. Iwas perplexed and tantalised, and even, let me confess it, impatient toget that piano unlocked.
But Mr. Green might he seek to destroy the clue, in order to make goodhis consistency, if it led, as I had no doubt it would, in a contrarydirection to that his suspicions had taken?
Towards the end of the interview we had this conversation: "Can you,sir, bear any sudden revelation touching this matter, which may,perhaps, show that you are wrong in your suspicions?" I asked.
"Sir," said Mr. Green, "I am an honest and upright man. I don't think Iam wrong; but if you can show me that I am wrong, I am the man toconfess so, and to make every reparation in my power."
"No doubt, sir; but you must pardon my caution. Gentlemen when surprisedare not always so discreet as on ordinary occasions; and it must be anunpleasant thing to feel that you have been made a party to thepunishment of an innocent person for a thief's crime."
Mr. Green had before this seriously looked at the possibility of itsturning out that his servant had been injured by him. He had comfortedhimself by the notion that, as he had acted _bona fide_, no great blamecould attach to him; and if such discovery were made, he had determinedto pursue the honourable course of restoring the injured girl, as far ashe could, to her place in society. He assured me again of that fact.
"Then," I continued, "you will place yourself entirely in my handspending this investigation. I shall ask you to let me search this housefrom top to bottom, and in every nook and cranny."
Mr. Green scarcely liked that. I somewhat surprised him, and threw himfor a moment in embarrassment.
"I hardly think that necessary," he said.
"I do," I said; "and you know I have had much experience. I am afraidthat time enough has been already given for the destruction of sometraces of guilt; but I am sure that every hour facilitates thedestruction of others."
"As you will, then, sir," said the merchant.
"Then I will again ask you to fortify yourself against the discovery ofany thing surprising; to act with reserve; and I would implore you notto get up a scene in my presence. If the lad or your other femaleservant should, as the result of my investigations, be hunted down thisevening, I shall ask you to take no steps for his or her punishment, oruntil you have had time for reflection. In the mean time, I will takecare of the proofs."
"Be it so, then, sir."
"I propose to begin the search in this room, as we are here."
"Yes, sir."
I stepped to the piano, and was about raising the lid, which, of course,did not open at my desire.
"Have you the key of this piano?"
"No; my wife has it. You had better ask Mrs. Green for it, sir."
He called his wife in.
"My dear," he said, "this gentleman is a private detective. I have toldhim that we are anxious for the fullest investigation, and shall beglad, indeed, if your servant in custody can be found innocent, althoughI feel that is totally impossible. Still he thinks he will be able toget some evidence that will divert suspicion from Eliza to one of theother servants."
"Well," observed Mrs. Green, "it is an unpleasant thing to have one'shouse pulled about in this way; but I suppose it cannot be avoided."
I nodded assent to the lady's speech.
"Will you let me have the key of this piano?" I inquired.
"The piano, sir!" she said falteringly. "That is my piano. What do yourequire the key of _that_ for?" And the colour came and went from herolive countenance, in a way that told me I had discovered the real thiefin the merchant's wife.
A train of thought passed through my mind as rapidly as messages areconveyed by the harnessed lightning over house-tops, beneath the solidearth, or under the sea. This was a curious little instance ofkleptomania. The poor wife's morbid secretiveness, acquisitiveness, orwhatever a phrenologist might call "the organ," was in large excess. Ipitied her. Could I here abandon
the search, and leave the poor lady'scrime a mystery, or an undetected fact? No; that would not do. She, atleast, had permitted the servant, my client, to be accused. I knew thedepth of woman's cunning. I know how tenaciously one will cling to theoutward forms of respectability and of virtue. I know how horriblyunscrupulous a criminal at bay, with the chance of setting the dogs ofthe law on the wrong scent, could be. To relax in my vigilance would befatal to my innocent client, whose late mistress, the real thief, wouldforge other proofs of the guilt of the guiltless.
Why did I reason to myself thus? Does not innocence tremble, and loseits self-possession under the remotest suspicion of an offence? Does notguilt, as a rule, maintain its self-possession, and look with a boldfront upon the perils of its situation? Yes. Ordinarily I see inembarrassment an indication, not of guilt, but of innocence. But in Mrs.Green's case there was a firmness with the embarrassment; there was anexpression which I cannot describe in words. There was a dread of mevisible in the attempt to hide that fear. There was an indescribable_something_, which operated on my mind as moral evidence.
"I won't press for the key, madam, if you are unwilling to let me haveit."
"I am unwilling only, sir, because I think it an impudent request."
"Madam," I replied, "no request can be impudent which is explained bythe fact that I am collecting evidence to rescue innocence from ruin andshame."
"I shall not give you the key of my piano."
"Again, madam, I say I will not press you for it; but I will state, inthe presence of your husband, that I think it necessary to know what iscontained in that piece of furniture."
Mr. Green was thunderstruck, and bewildered to the verge of insanity. Alight dawned upon his mind, of which I was then unconscious. Herecollected, as he shortly after told me, that not a week before, havingentered the drawing-room, in order to meet his wife, on his return fromthe City about half an hour before his usual time, he found her sittingby the piano. She heavily closed the lid of it as he opened the door.
It was a minute or two after this light dawned upon him before herecovered his self-possession enough to open his mouth.
His first silent inquiry then was how to save his own humiliation bycovering his wife's disgrace; but this desire mingled with indignationand disgust that she, so well provided for--even to the matter ofpin-money--should rob her own home. It was, he argued, criminalinsanity. Yet he must dissemble, and baffle me if he could, he thought.
"I don't see what you want to open my wife's piano for, or why you canwish to inspect the piece of paper, if it be a piece of paper, you see,which I am not certain about."
"Mr. Green," I said solemnly, "I shall insist upon opening that piano. Ishall break it open if the key is not given me. I have a trust reposedin me, than which nothing can be more solemn or stern. It is my habit,sir, to do my duty; and in the present case no earthly consideration ofprofit or reward would induce me to forego the slightest clue to thevindication of the woman whose fate, I may say, is in my hands."
The situation was a very awkward one for all parties.
I thought the better plan would be to take upon myself the first action,and thus relieve Mrs. Green from any further refusal to produce the key,by taking from my pocket a small instrument sufficiently powerful tobreak the lock. I did this, and neither husband nor wife ventured toresist me.
As I lifted the lid a letter became visible. Mrs. Green snatched at it,endeavouring to grasp it off the key-board of the instrument.
I had anticipated such an act on her part, and, as she felt theresistance of my right arm, I took it with my left hand.
"That is a letter of mine, sir."
"It may be, madam; but I must know the contents."
"Do you allow that?" she inquired of her husband.
"I am entitled," he said, "to my wife's letters. They are surely notyour property, but mine."
"I have no dispute, sir, about the property in the letter; but itscontents, I suspect, belong to an unfortunate young woman now lying inprison on a charge of which I take her to be as guiltless as you are."
"I don't know how you propose to make that out," said the wife.
"Nor do I, in frankness I may admit," was my rejoinder, "yet _know_; butI think this letter will help me to the solution of the whole mystery ofthe case."
Again it appeared to me that I must extricate the merchant and his wifefrom momentary difficulty by some action on my part.
"I shall," I said, "keep this letter until next Monday, when, if youinsist upon it, it shall be handed over to the magistrate; but, instrictness, I must say I think I ought to read it at once, and, if Iafterwards see fit, hand it over to the prisoner's attorney."
"I don't," said Mr. Green. "You must give it up to me."
His wife also vehemently claimed it.
"With all respect to you, sir, and to you, madam, I shall take theresponsibility of detaining it."
The husband, who all this while had been a prey to intensely painfulemotion, then desired his wife to leave us alone, saying that he wouldmanage me; and, after considerable hesitation, she did so. As she leftthe room I thought I could distinctly trace, in the lines of that prettycountenance, the external signs of a mind racked with the agony ofcrime.
When she had left, I took a chair, and Mr. Green did the same.
"This letter, sir," I said, "may be an ordinary one, containing nothingthat can affect the unfortunate prisoner's case; and if so I shall beperfectly prepared to hand it over to you at once; but I shall now ask,if you please, as a matter of courtesy, to permit me to read it."
"A letter of my wife's, sir!"
"Yes, a letter of your wife's; and I can promise you no secrecy aboutits contents until I know what they are. If these contents be notessential to the interests of the prisoner, and do not call for its use,whatever be the secret this letter embodies, no living soul will get theleast idea of that secret from me. If, on the other hand, it willfurnish a material link in the evidence of that unfortunate girl'sinnocence, no considerations, no regard to the position, circumstances,or happiness of you, will induce me to abstain from using it in a way tosecure her liberation."
"I think you should let me read it first," said the husband, in terror.
"You must allow me to reverse the order of perusal. _I_ must read itfirst."
Mr. Green rose and paced the room. I sat musing, and observing him. Atlast he turned, and said,
"I know I can rely upon your judgment sir." He sat down beside me. Iread the letter in tones loud enough for him to hear, but let nosentence or word of it pass through the keyhole of that drawing-roomdoor.
We drew our chairs closer together as I read the letter. It wasaddressed to the merchant's wife, in the handwriting of the party withwhom the prior attachment of her heart had been contracted,--from whomit had never been severed. She had in vain sought to wean heraffections from him as soon as she received the proposal from herpresent husband; but it was useless. Cold, cynical, calculating, as shehad been rendered by stern experience, there was yet in her breastsufficient of that element of human love to bind the attachment of herpurer days. She did not muster courage for a long while to apprise thelover of her intended marriage. When she did so, he received it withwhat he called "philosophical resignation." He professed to resign her,and no doubt did resign her, to what he said and conceived would be "amore satisfactory marriage." It was, however, agreed between the loversthat their acquaintance should continue on the basis of friendship; butneither of them being led by high and lofty sentiment, being indeed bothof a somewhat inferior nature, they were incapable of maintaining thatcold relationship which even better minds might have found it no easytask to preserve in its frigid integrity. The attachment of friendshipripened into criminal love before the merchant took the lady to thealtar. That criminal relationship continued after marriage. Misfortunefell upon the lover nearly as soon as good fortune was realised by thewoman intended for his wife, who had become the wife of another. Heapplied to her to assist him with her p
urse. She did this with all shecould obtain from her husband--saved from domestic outlay. The demandsupon the wife from this source, however, increased with her freedom ordesire to satisfy them. Money, easily and ill-gotten by the paramourfrom his mistress, was lightly spent. What had been asked for in thefirst instance in tones of humble supplication, was ere long demandedunder threats of exposure.
The letter taken from the piano demanded the sum of 10_l._, in orderthat the writer might satisfy what he was pleased to call "a debt ofhonour" within three days. He must, he said, have the money, and hewould have it. The wretch had the brutal audacity to say to thisunfortunate woman in his power, "You have more to suffer by exposurethan I have; and look out, if you don't let me have the money." Thisamount the wretched woman could not procure. She had about a weekpreviously supplied him with a like sum, and his demands upon her had oflate been so heavy that she had been in daily apprehension her husbandwould discover the malversation of the funds he had supplied her with tokeep his house. Bills which she professed to have paid remainedunsatisfied. Several hundreds of pounds had been diverted from theirlegitimate application. She had, therefore, on this occasion, as she haddone on some other occasions when similarly situated, given him thematerial by which, through the pawnbroker, or in some such mode, hemight raise the money he required for his unhallowed purposes; and beonce more extracted, through his criminal hold over the mind,conscience, and body of the wife, the cash to expend in debauchery. Thewatch and chain, and some other trinkets, had been given by the wife toher paramour, and by him disposed of.
The effect which this letter produced upon the merchant may be moreeasily conceived than described. It is enough to say that thistolerably strong-minded man, who had so well played his part throughoutthe interview I have at such length described, here broke down,completely unnerved. He put himself under my guidance, and quitted thehouse with me that evening, leaving Mrs. Green therein--alone.
Mr. Green and I had a meeting on the following day at the office of hissolicitor, to whom I handed a copy of the letter; and I also supplied acopy to the attorney for the prisoner. It was arranged between Mr.Green's solicitor and his client that a person should be sent up to takeimmediate possession of the house at Kentish Town, which he hadevacuated on the previous night.
The man, on his arrival there, discovered that Mrs. Green had fled. Shetook her departure early that morning. She left no article behind thatwas easy of removal. A somewhat extensive wardrobe was packed in boxes.All the articles of jewelry, that were easily convertible into money,she also took. Mr. Green had, at my suggestion, left her ten cheques,drawn upon his private bankers, for 5_l._ each, and each post-datedseven days apart. These, of course, she took with her. She left noaddress behind her. She took neither of the servants for companionship.Whither she had gone to nobody knew, nor did I care.
There was a meeting between the solicitor for the prosecutor and thesolicitor for the prisoner--in confidence, and without prejudice.
Communications were, under this shield, freely exchanged. The poor girlwas told that an application would be made for her release, when nexttaken before the magistrate, under circumstances that would beafterwards explained to her. She was further informed that her masterwas confident of her innocence; that the guilty person had been traced,but would not be prosecuted. For the injury she had received at hishands, which he was sorry to confess was the consequence of his rashimpulses, he asked her forgiveness, which she readily granted him.
At the next examination before the magistrate the prosecutor'ssolicitor, who appeared for the first time, said that the case had beeninvestigated since the former meeting, and that he would ask hisworship's permission to be allowed to withdraw from the prosecution. Themagistrate at once turned to the prisoner's solicitor, asked whether hehad any objection to that course, and received for reply that his clienthad no objection to her release without conditions.
The poor girl was accordingly liberated, and taken away under the careof a relative, in whose hands means were placed for her immediatecomfortable provision. Mr. Green provided those means.
Of Mrs. Green I have since heard. Indeed I had another engagement totrace her, the clue to which was furnished by herself. She employed anattorney about two months after her flight from Kentish Town, who waitedupon the private solicitor of her husband, and implored him, on theground of humanity, to let her have money. The advocate begged him tothink of the discredit that would attach to Mr. Green if the woman whobore his name were reduced to distress, absolute privation, and perhapsthe workhouse. After several consultations with his solicitor, Mr. Greendeclined to allow any thing. He professed a total unconcern as to whatbecame of the worthless woman; and in reply to a menace, then delicatelyput forward or hinted by her legal adviser, that she would be a sourceof annoyance to her husband, Mr. Green's solicitor informed hisprofessional friend that his client would not scruple to hand her overto the police if she did so. So ended the negotiation.
Some time had rolled away since the liberation of the prisoner. Mr.Green continued to take considerable interest in her welfare. Hefrequently visited the residence of her aunt, at Camberwell, andbetrayed an almost tender solicitude about the girl. In fact tender isthe right part of speech to use as the qualification of solicitude inthis case.
The merchant called upon his solicitor one day, and had a longconference with him. Without taking the reader through from thebeginning to the end of that private conference, I may inform him thatMr. Green was determined that Sir Cresswell Cresswell should rendasunder the bonds which had been forged by Hymen or theChurch-of-England minister, if legal evidence of the infidelity of hiswife could be produced, and he imagined there would be very littletrouble in getting it. The letter which had been discovered in the pianowould of course be very important, but was not sufficient in itself.
I was accordingly employed, and following up such traces as Iapprehended would lead me on her track. I was not a great while beforeI discovered that Mrs. Green had become "one more unfortunate" paradingWaterloo Place every night, at present decked in the garments which Mr.Green, her husband, had purchased; and I further learnt that, out of theproceeds of her sin, she was maintaining "the prior attachment."
When all this evidence had been collected and laid before Dr. Jinks, avery accomplished lawyer, as I have seen cause to know, who practises inthe court till recently presided over so ably by Sir CresswellCresswell; and when his opinion had been written upon "a case," to theeffect that there was no doubt the court would grant Mr. Green a divorcefrom his adulterous wife,--that gentleman called upon Eliza's aunt, andexplained to her that he felt bound to mark at once his sense of themerit and virtues of her niece, and his desire to make the amplestreparation in his power for the injuries inflicted upon her, by offeringto place her in the position of her late mistress as soon as the legalceremonies clearing the way had been effected.
The court readily granted a divorce. The opposition on the wife's partwas but a sham resistance. It was an attorney's defence, that wouldnever have been made if the law, in its kindly regard for woman underall circumstances, had not allowed her, although demoralised, to dip herhands in an injured husband's pocket for the costs of any pretendedresistance to his prayer, as well as for alimony during the litigation.As soon as Mr. Green issued his citation, he had to allow his wife atthe rate of 600_l._ per annum until he got his decree for a dissolutionof the marriage, and he had also to pay her attorney 150_l._ 4_s._ 6_d._
These moneys being paid, and these processes having been gone through,and after further waiting the time prescribed by law for the otherside--that is, for Mrs. Green--to appeal against the court's decision,no such appeal having been attempted, the adulterous woman was no longerentitled to the use of the merchant's name; she ceased to be, in the eyeof the law, in any respect his wife; and Eliza became Mrs. Green, underthe sanction of law and of the Established Church of England.