CHAPTER VIII.
"MY DEAR SIR PHILIP:
"I have not seen you or dear Lady Hastings for many months; nor yoursweet Emily either, except at a distance, when one day she passed mycarriage on horseback, sweeping along the hill-side like a gleam oflight. My life is a sad, solitary one here; and I wish my friendswould take more compassion upon me and let me see human facesoftener--especial faces that I love.
"But I know that you are very inexorable in these respects, and,sufficient to yourself, cannot readily conceive how a lone woman canpine for the society of other more loving friends than books ornature. I must, therefore, attack the only accessible point I knowabout you, meaning your compassion, which you never refuse to thosewho really require it. Now I do require it greatly; for I am at thispresent engaged in business of a very painful and intricate nature,which I cannot clearly understand, and in which I have no one toadvise me but a country attorney, whose integrity as well as ability Imuch doubt. To whom can I apply so well as to you, when I need thecounsel and assistance of a friend, equally kind, disinterested, andclear-headed? I venture to do so, then, in full confidence, and askyou to ride over as soon as you can, to give me your advice, or ratherto decide for me, in a matter where a considerable amount of propertyis at stake, and where decision is required immediately. I trust whenyou do come you will stay all night, as the business is, I fear, of socomplicated a nature, that it may occupy more than one day of yourvaluable time in the affairs of
Your faithful and obliged servant, CAROLINE HAZLETON."
"Is Mrs. Hazleton's messenger waiting?" asked Sir Philip Hastings,after having read the letter and mused for a moment.
The servant answered in the affirmative; and his master rejoined,"Tell him I will not write an answer, as I have some business toattend to; but I beg he will tell his mistress that I will be with herin three hours."
Lady Hastings uttered a low-toned exclamation of surprise. She did notventure to ask any question--indeed she rarely questioned her husbandon any subject; but when anything excited her wonder, or, as was morefrequently the case, her curiosity, she was accustomed to seek forsatisfaction in a somewhat indirect way, by raising her beautifuleyebrows with a doubtful sort of smile, or, as in the presentinstance, by exclaiming, "Good gracious! Dear me!" or giving voice tosome other little vocative, with a note of interrogation stronglymarked after it.
In this case there was more than one feeling at the bottom of herexclamation. She was surprised; she was curious; and she was,moreover, in the least degree in the world, jealous. She had her shareof weaknesses, as I have said; and one of them was of a kind lessuncommon than may be supposed. Of her husband's conduct she had nofear--not the slightest suspicion. Indeed, to have entertained anywould have been impossible--but she could not bear to see him liked,admired, esteemed, by any woman--mark, me, I say by _any woman_; forno one could feel more triumphant joy than she did when she saw himduly appreciated by men. She was a great monopolizer: she did not wishone thought of his to be won away from her by another woman; and asort of irritable feeling came upon her even when she saw him seatedby any young and pretty girl, and paying her the common attentions ofsociety. She was too well bred to display such sensations except bythose slight indications, or by a certain petulance of manner, whichhe was not close observer enough of other people's conduct to remark.
Not to dwell too long on such things, Sir Philip Hastings, thoughperfectly unconscious of what was going on in her heart, rarely kepther long in suspense, when he saw any signs of curiosity. He perhapsmight think it a point of Roman virtue to spoil his wife, although shehad very little of the Portia in her character. On the presentoccasion, he quietly handed over to her the letter of Mrs. Hazleton;and then summoned a servant and gave orders for various preparations.
"Had not I and Emily better go with you?" asked Lady Hastings,pointing out to him the passage in the letter which spoke of the longabsence of all the family.
"Not when I am going on business," replied her husband gravely, andquitted the room.
An hour after, Philip Hastings was on horseback with a servantcarrying a valise behind him, and riding slowly through the park. Theday was far advanced, and the distance was likely to occupy about anhour and a half in travelling; but the gentleman had fallen into areverie, and rode very slowly. They passed the park gates; they tooktheir way down the lane by the church and near the parsonage. Here SirPhilip pulled in his horse suddenly, and ordered the man to ride onand announce that he would be at Mrs. Hazleton's soon after. He thenfastened his horse to a large hook, put up for the express purpose onmost country houses of that day in England, and walked up to the door.It was ajar, and without ceremony he walked in, as he was oftenaccustomed to do, and entered the little study of the rector.
The clergyman himself was not there; but there were two persons in theroom, one a young and somewhat dashing-looking man, one or two andtwenty years of age, exceedingly handsome both in face and figure;the other personage past the middle age, thin, pale, eager andkeen-looking, in whom Sir Philip instantly recognized a well known,but not very well reputed attorney, of a country town about twentymiles distant. They had one of the large parish books before them, andwere both bending over it with great appearance of earnestness.
The step of Sir Philip Hastings roused them, and turning round, theattorney bowed law, saying, "I give you good day, Sir Philip. I hope Ihave the honor of seeing you well."
"Quite so," was the brief reply, and it was followed by an inquiry forthe pastor, who it seemed had gone into another room for some paperswhich were required.
In the mean time the younger of the two previous occupants of the roomhad been gazing at Sir Philip Hastings with a rude, familiar stare,which the object of it did not remark; and in another moment theclergyman himself appeared, carrying a bundle of old letters in hishand.
He was a heavy, somewhat timid man, the reverse of his predecessor inall things, but a very good sort of person upon the whole. On seeingthe baronet there, however, something seemed strangely to affecthim--a sort of confused surprise, which, after various stammeringefforts, burst forth as soon as the usual salutation was over, in thewords, "Pray, Sir Philip, did you come by appointment?"
Sir Philip Hastings, as the reader already knows, was a somewhatunobservant man of what was passing around him in the world. He hadhis own deep, stern trains of thought, which he pursued with apassionate earnestness almost amounting to monomania. The actions,words, and even looks of those few in whom he took an interest, hecould sometimes watch and comment on in his own mind with intensestudy. True, he watched without understanding, and commented wrongly;for he had too little experience of the motives of others from outwardobservation, and found too little sympathy with the general motives ofthe world, in his own heart, to judge even those he loved rightly. Butthe conduct, the looks, the words of ordinary men, he hardly took thetrouble of remarking; and the good parson's surprise and hesitation,passed like breath upon a mirror, seen perhaps, but retaining no holdupon his mind for a moment. Neither did the abrupt question surprisehim; nor the quick, angry look which it called up on the face of theattorney attract his notice; but he replied quietly to Mr. Dixwell, "Ido not remember having made any appointment with you."
The matter was all well so far; and would have continued well; but theattorney, a meddling fellow, had nearly spoiled all, by calling theattention of Philip Hastings more strongly to the strangeness of theclergyman's question.
"Perhaps," said the man of law, interrupting the baronet in the midst,"Perhaps Mr. Dixwell thought, Sir Philip, that you came here to speakwith me on the business of the Honorable Mrs. Hazleton. She told meshe would consult you, and I can explain the whole matter to you."
But the clergyman instantly declared that he meant nothing of thekind; and at the same moment Sir Philip Hastings said, "I beg you willnot, sir. Mrs. Hazleton will explain what she thinks proper to me,herself. I desire no previous information, as I am now on my way toher. Why my good friend here should su
ppose I came by appointment, Icannot tell. However, I did not; and it does not matter. I only wish,Mr. Dixwell, to say, that I hear the old woman Danley is ill anddying. She is a papist, and the foolish people about fancy she is awitch. Little help or comfort will she obtain from them, even if theydo not injure or insult her. As I shall be absent all night, andperhaps all to-morrow, I will call at her cottage as I ride over toMrs. Hazleton's and inquire into her wants. I will put down on paper,and leave there, what I wish my people to do for her; but there is onething which I must request you to do, namely, to take every means, byexhortation and remonstrance, to prevent the ignorant peasantry fromtroubling this poor creature's death-bed. Her sad errors in matters offaith should only at such a moment make us feel the greater compassionfor her."
Mr. Dixwell thought differently, for though a good man, he was afanatic. He did not indeed venture to think of disobeying theinjunction of the great man of the parish--the man who now held boththe Hastings and the Marshal property; but he would fain have detainedSir Philip to explain and make clear to him the position--as clear asa demonstration in Euclid to his own mind--that all Roman Catholicsought to be, at the very least, banished from the country for ever.
But Sir Philip Hastings was not inclined to listen, and although thegood man began the argument in a solemn tone, his visitor, fallinginto a fit of thought, walked slowly out of the room, along thepassage, through the door, and mounted his horse, without effectuallyhearing one word, though they were many which Mr. Dixwell showeredupon him as he followed.
At his return to his little study, the parson found the young man andthe lawyer, no longer looking at the book, but conversing togethervery eagerly, with excited countenances and quick gestures. The momenthe entered, however, they stopped, the young man ending with an oath,for which the clergyman reproved him on the spot.
"That is very well, Mr. Dixwell," said the attorney, "and my youngfriend here will be much the better for some good admonition; and forsitting under your ministry, as I trust he will, some day soon; but wemust go I fear directly. However, there is one thing I want to say;for you had nearly spoiled every thing to-day. No person playing atcards--"
"I never touch them," said the parson, with a holy horror in his face.
"Well, others do," said the attorney, "and those who do never showtheir hand to their opponent. Now, law is like a game of cards--"
"In which the lawyer is sure to get the odd trick," observed the youngman.
"And we must not have Sir Philip Hastings know one step that we aretaking," continued the lawyer. "If you have conscience, as I am sureyou have, and honor, as I know you have, you will not suffer any thingthat we have asked you, or said to you, to transpire; for then, ofcourse, Sir Philip would take every means to prevent our obtaininginformation."
"I do not think it," said the parson.
"And justice and equity would be frustrated," proceeded the attorney,"which you are bound by your profession to promote. We want nothingbut justice, Mr. Dixwell: justice, I say; and no one can tell whatcard Sir Philip may play."
"I will trump it with the knave," said the young man to himself; andhaving again cautioned the clergyman to be secret, not without someobscure menaces of danger to himself, if he failed, the two gentlemenleft him, and hurried down, as fast as they could go, to a smallalehouse in the village, where they had left their horses. In a fewminutes, a well known poacher, whose very frequent habitation was thejail or the cage, was seen to issue forth from the door of theale-house, then to lead a very showy looking horse from the stable,and then to mount him and take his way over the hill. The poacher hadnever possessed a more dignified quadruped than a dog or a donkey inhis life; so that it was evident the horse could not be his. That hewas not engaged in the congenial but dangerous occupation of stealingit, was clear from the fact of the owner of the beast gazing quietlyat him out of the window while he mounted; and then turning round tothe attorney, who sat at a table hard by, and saying, "he is off, Ithink."
"Well, let him go," replied the lawyer, "but I do not half like it,Master John. Every thing in law should be cool and quiet. Noviolence--no bustle."
"But this is not a matter of law," replied the younger man, "it is amatter of safety, you fool. What might come of it, if he were to havea long canting talk with the old wretch upon her death-bed?"
"Very little," replied the attorney, in a calm well-assured tone, "Iknow her well. She is as hard as a flint stone. She always was, andtime has not softened her. Besides, he has no one with him to takedepositions, and if what you say is true, she'll not live tillmorning."
"But I tell you, she is getting frightened, as she comes near death!"exclaimed the young man. "She has got all sorts of fancies into herhead; about hell, and purgatory, and the devil knows what; and shespoke to my mother yesterday about repentance, and atonement, and apack of stuff more, and wanted extreme unction, and to confess to apriest. It would be a fine salve, I fancy, that could patch up thewounds in her conscience; but if this Philip Hastings were to come toher with his grave face and solemn tone, and frighten her still more,he would get any thing out of her he pleased."
"I don't think it," answered the lawyer deliberately; "hate, MasterJohn, is the longest lived passion I know. It lasts into the grave,as I have often seen in making good men's wills when they weredying--sanctified, good men, I say. Why I have seen a man who hasspent half his fortune in charity, and built alms-houses, leave athoughtless son, or a runaway daughter, or a plain-spoken nephew, tostruggle with poverty all his life, refusing to forgive him, andcomforting himself with a text or a pretence. No, no; hate is the onlypossession that goes out of the world with a man: and this old witch,Danby, hates the whole race of Hastings with a goodly strength thatwill not decay as her body does. Besides, Sir Philip is well-nigh aspuritanical as his father--a sort of cross-breed between an Englishfanatic and an old Roman cynic. She abominates the very sound of hisvoice, and nothing would reconcile her to him but his taking the massand abjuring the errors of Calvin. Ha! ha! ha! However, as you havesent the fellow, it cannot be helped. Only remember I had nothing todo with it if violence follows. That man is not to be trusted, and Ilike to keep on the safe side of the law."
"Ay, doubtless, doubtless," answered the youth, somewhat thoughtfully;"it is your shield; and better stand behind than before it. However, Idon't doubt Tom Cutter in the least. Besides, I only told him tointerrupt them in their talk, and take care they had no privategossip; to stick there till he was gone, and all that."
"Sir Philip is not a man to bear such interruption," said theattorney, gravely; "he is as quiet looking as the deep sea on asummer's day; but there can come storms, I tell you, John, and thenwoe to those who have trusted the quiet look."
"Then, if he gets in a passion, and mischief comes of it," replied theyoung man, with a laugh, "the fault is his, you know, Shanks."
"True," answered the attorney, meditating, "and perhaps, by a littleclever twisting and timing, we might make something of it if he did,were there any other person concerned but this Tom Cutter, and we hada good serviceable witness or two. But this man is such a rogue thathis word is worth nothing; and to thrash him--though the business ofthe beadle--would be no discredit to the magistrate. Besides, he issure to give the provocation, and one word of Sir Philip's would beworth a thousand oaths of Tom Cutter's, in any court in the kingdom."
"As to thrashing him, that few can do," replied the youth; "but onlyremember, Shanks, that I gave no orders for violence."
"I was not present," replied the attorney, with a grin; "you hadbetter, by a great deal, trust entirely to me, in these things, MasterJohn. If you do, I will bring you safely through, depend upon it; butif you do not, nobody can tell what may come. Here comes Folwell, thesexton. Now hold your tongue, and let me manage him, sir. You are notacquainted with these matters."