ページの画像
PDF
ePub
[graphic]

As to the cheque-it was a forgery. The bankers had discovered it later in the evening, and I was taken into custody, with the bank-notes in my pocket-book, by a Bow Street officer, acting under Mr. Picard, Senior's, orders. My wife was not at home. Casting, therefore, one hurried glance at my poor, unconscious, sleeping child-a glance in which were concentrated the love and agony of a lifetime I turned my back upon the old house to go with the officer to the appointed prison.

The next morning, at the preliminary examination before a magistrate, the charge was made out. I gave my explanation; but young Mr. Picard was not to be found, and unsupported as I was by any evidence, with a string of circumstances so strongly against me, what was I to expect? I was fully committed, and removed to Newgate to take my trial at the ensuing sessions.

Prostrated with grief and shame, I passed the first night in my dismal cell, in stupor rather than sleep, broken by thoughts of my lost home. My poor dear child seemed to me to be removed to an immeasurable distance-to belong to another world and even my cold, passionless wife appeared in warmer and more wifely colours, and my heart was softened towards her. I felt as if I had left her in the morning, full of health and strength, and had returned at nightfall to find her dead.

The first morning, at the visiting hour, I was stopped in my short, impatient walk by hearing my name called by the turnkey: my wife had come to see me. I went to the grating where stood many of my fellow-prisoners talking to their wives and friends, and, making room against the bars, I brought myself face to face with Esther. There, outside another barrier, between which and my own walked the officer on duty, she stood with her cold, passionless face looking sterner and paler than usual; her thin lips firmly compressed, and her keen grey eyes fixed upon me with a searching, dubious expression. Thinking of the place I was in, and the character of my companions, whose voices, without one tone of sorrow or remorse, were busy around me; feeling cold, dirty, and miserable, and looking from all this upon Esther, as she stood there before me in her Quakerish dress, and neat, clean respectability, I wavered for a moment in the belief of my innocence, and felt that there was an impassable gulf between us, which my desponding heart told me would never be bridged over.

"Esther," I said, "has young Mr. Picard been heard of? Is little Margaret well? Do my employers really believe me guilty?"

[ocr errors][merged small]

grief and shame that have fallen on us. Mr. Dobell has carefully avoided speaking to me upon the subject of your suspected crime, but Mr. Picard believes you guilty."

Though I could not clearly see the expression of her face, broken up as it was into isolated features by the double row of intervening bars, I felt that her eyes were fixed curiously upon me, and the tone of her voice, as she said this, told me that I was suspected-suspected even of crime far deeper than forgery! A cold shudder passed across my heart, and the old feeling of antagonism came back again to harden me.

[ocr errors]

"Randall," she continued in the same emotionless tone, some money that I had saved for the child I have devoted to your defence, and to procuring you certain comforts which you will sadly need here. If you are guilty, pray to be forgiven: if you are innocent, pray-as I and Margaret will pray--that this dark cloud may pass from us."

Twice again Esther visited me: still with the same story-for young Mr. Picard had not been found; still with the same tone; still with the same look. At length the day of trial came. As I stood in the dock, the first person my eye fell upon in the court was Mr. Picard; his sallow face looking sallower than ever, his small grey eyes peering quickly and sharply about him. He was there to watch over his family honour, to obtain a conviction at any cost, and to favour the belief that I had either murdered his son, or had compelled him to keep out of the way. Esther was there, too, following the proceedings with quiet intensity; her face fixed as marble, and her eyes resting upon me the whole time without a tear. It was over at last, the long painful trial, and I was convicted-sentenced to transportation for life. I saw the triumph on Mr. Picard's features; and with glazed eyes I saw Esther leave the court, with her dark veil closely drawn over her face. She stooped, and, I thought, sobbed; but I saw her no more. In a few weeks I was on the high seas, proceeding to a penal settlement. Often in the dead of night the vision of my fatherless child, weeping in the gateway of the old mansion, passed before me, and sometimes I heard her little gentle voice in the wailing of the wind. The veil had fallen over my lost home never to rise again-never but once-years after.

Our vessel never reached her destination. She was wrecked in the third month of our voyage, and all on board, except myself and another convict, were lost. We were picked up by an American vessel; and, keeping our secret as to what we were, we were landed safely in New York. My companion went his way, and I entered the service of a storekeeper, and worked steadily for four years-four long years, in which the vision

[merged small][merged small][graphic][merged small]

of my lost home was constantly before me. Any feeling of resentment that I may have had at the suspicions of my wife, and at her seeming indifference to my fate, was now completely obliterated by the operation of time and distance, and the old love I gave to her as a girl came back in all its tenderness and force. She appeared to me as the guardian and protector of my dear fatherless child, whom I had left sleeping innocently in her little bed on the night when the door of my lost home closed upon me. My dreams by night, my one thought by day, grew in intensity, until I could resist the impulse no longer. Risking

the chance of discovery, I procured a passage, and landed in London in the winter of the fifth year from that in which I had left England.

I took a lodging at a small public-house at Wapping, near the river; and I neglected no means to escape observation. I waited with a beating, anxious heart impatiently for night; and, when it came, I went forth well disguised, keeping along the line of the docks and silent warehouses, until I reached the end of the lane in which the old mansion stood. I did not dare to make any inquiry to know if Esther and the child were still at the old home; but my knowledge of the character and

prospects of my wife told me that, if the firm allowed her to stay, she would have accepted the offer, as her principles and determination would have sustained her under any feelings of disgrace. I walked slowly up the old familiar lanc, until I stood before the gateway. It was near eight o'clock, and the gate was closed, but it looked the same as it did when I first knew it as a boy; so did the quaint oak carving, and the silent courtyard seen through the small grating. There were no lights in the front, and I went cautiously round, up a side lane, and along a narrow passage that ran between the churchyard and the back of the house. At that moment the church clock struck eight, and the bells chimed the Evening Hymn, slowly and musically, as they had done, perhaps, for centuries; slowly and musically, as they had done in the days gone by, while I sat at the window with little Margaret in my arms, nursing her to sleep. A flood of memories came across iny heart. Forgetful of the object that had brought me there, I leant against the railings and wept.

The chimes ceased, and the spell was broken. I was recalled to the momentous task that lay before me. I approached, with a trembling step, the window of what used to be our sitting-room, on the ground floor. I saw lights through the crevices of the closed shutters. Putting my ear closely against the wall I heard the hum of voices. Faint, confused, and indistinct as the sound was, something-perhaps the associations of the place -made me feel that I was listening to my wife and child. I was startled by the sound of footsteps; and, turning my eyes in the direction of the entrance to the passage (it had but one entrance) I saw approaching an old man, who had been in the service of the firm as house porter for fifty years. He was called blind Stephen; for, though not totally blind, his eyes had a stony, glazed appearance. He had lived so long in the house that he would have died if he had been removed; and, in consideration of his lengthened service, he was retained, by Mr. Askew's special commands. This was before I left, and I presumed, from finding him there, that he was still at his old duty-coming round to see, or rather feel, that all was secure before retiring for the night. I shrank against the wall with the hope of avoiding discovery: not that I feared the consequences of being recognised by Stephen-for I had many claims upon his kindness and sympathy —but that I dreaded, although I longed, to hear what he might have to tell me. He came directly towards me, as if by instinct-for I was perfectly, breathlessly still-and paused immediately opposite to where I was partially hidden, under the shadow of the wall. He seemed to feel that some one was there, and his glazed eyes were directed full upon me, looking now more ghastly than ever,

[merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][ocr errors][merged small][merged small][ocr errors][merged small][merged small]

66

Do they ever speak of me in your hearing, Stephen, when you are about the house?" "Never, now, Mr. Randall."

There was something in the tone of Stephen's voice that weighed upon my heart. He always was a kind old fellow, with a degree of refinement above his class; but now his voice was weak, and sad, and tremulous; more so than what he told me seemed to demand. I conjured him to tell me all. With considerable hesitation and emotion, he complied.

"None of us in the office thought you guilty of the forgery, sir, not one; and the principal clerks presented a note of sympathy and condolence to your good lady. Mr. Picard became, as he is now, more harsh and disagreeable than ever; and at one time, we thought Mrs. Randall would leave the place; but Mr. Dobell, we fancy, persuaded her to stay. She was always, you know, sir, of a very serious turn, and she now went more fre quently to chapel than ever. She took on a great deal, we fancy, at first; but she is a lady, sir, of great spirit and firmness, and she concealed her feelings very well, and held herself up as proudly as the best of them."

[ocr errors]

And poor little Margaret, did she miss me much?"

"Indeed, sir, she did at first. Poor little dear, I often heard her crying after you in the morning; and, for many weeks, not even the fear of Mr. Picard could keep her from going down in the daytime to the gateway, and standing there looking up and down the lane until she was fetched gently back by me. God forgive me for the many falsehoods I told her, sir, about your coming back! But I could not bear to see her crying about the great lonely house. And she always asked after you in such a loving, innocent, sorrowful way."

Poor old Stephen's narrative was here stopped by tears; as for me, I sobbed like a child.

[ocr errors][merged small]

STERNE AND THE ASS.

would not part with her. I used often to go up to her little room at the top of the house and play with her as I had seen you do, sir, in the middle of the day. She was always very glad to see me, and sometimes she would take me to the window when the noonday chimes of our old church were playing, and, pointing up to the sky above the tower, would fancy she saw you there. By degrees her inquiries after you became less frequent, and when the intelligence of the wreck of your ship arrived, and your good lady put her into mourning, supposing you dead, she had ceased to ask about you."

[ocr errors][merged small]

"Very much, sir. She is a dear, sweet, gentle thing. We all respect your good lady; but we love little Margaret; and, although I lost my sight entirely four years ago, and am now stone-blind, I know her height to a hair, for there is not a night that she does not kiss me before she goes to bed, and I have had to stoop less for the kiss every week all that time."

"Has young Mr. Picard ever been heard of?" Oh, yes, sir. We believe he was found murdered in some low house in a remote part of the town; but Mr. Picard, Senior, hushed the matter up, so that we never clearly knew the facts."

"I thought he would never have allowed me to suffer for him," I returned, "if he had been on this side of the grave."

"No, that he would not," replied Stephen.

I felt from Stephen's manner that there was yet some disclosure which his nerve was scarcely equal to make. Painful or not, I again conjured him to tell me all. After much entreaty, I learned from him the dreadful truth that my wife had married again. It was many minutes before I recovered from the shock. My lost home stood before me, and I was an outcast wanderer on the wide earth.

"They have been married about a twelvemonth," continued Stephen, "and although I can only feel what kind of a man he is, I don't think they are happy."

175

is very strict. He was a member of the chapel that your good lady used to go to, and he tries to mould little Margaret after his own heart. I fear they are not happy. Your good lady is less reserved before me, as I am blind, and I feel sometimes that, when she is reading, she is thinking of you."

"Stephen," I replied, sadly and firmly, “I have only one more request to make of you before I leave the country again for ever. Keep my secret, and let me for one minute see Esther and the child."

"I will," returned Stephen, weeping bitterly, "that I will; and may heaven sustain you in your trouble."

He threw the old wooden shutter back, which was not fastened on the inside, and exposed the long, deep, narrow recess, closed in at the end with red curtains glowing with the fire and light within.

"I will now go into the room," he said, "and deliver my keys; and while there, I will contrive to hook back the curtain."

I thanked him with a silent pressure of the hand, and he went. Just then the deep church bell struck nine, and every stroke sounded like a knell upon my beating heart. I watched-oh, how intensely I watched!-grasping the windowsill with my hands. At length the curtain was drawn back, and the vision of my lost home stood before me. They were engaged in evening prayer. My child-my dear lost child—-now grown tall and graceful, was kneeling at a chair, her long golden hair falling in clusters over her slender, folded hands. Esther was also kneeling with her face towards me. It looked more aged and careworn than I expected to see it, but it was still the old pale, statue-like face that I had cherished in my dreams, and that had nestled on my shoulder in the days gone by.

He who now stood in my place as the guardian of my lost home was kneeling where I could not see his face; but I heard his voice faintly muttering the words of prayer. Did any one in all that supplicating group think of the poor, wrecked,

"Is he kind to the child ?" I inquired, almost convict outcast? Heaven alone knows. The sternly.

"I don't think he is positively unkind; but he

curtain closed, and shut out my Lost Home from my dimmed sight for evermore.

STERNE AND THE ASS.
[LAURENCE STERNE. See Page 15.]

I WAS stopped by a poor ass, with a couple of large panniers at his back, who had just turned in to collect eleemosynary turnip-tops and cabbage. leaves; and stood dubious, with his two fore-feet at the inside of the threshold, and with his two

hinder feet towards the street, as not knowing very well whether he was to go in or no.

Now, 'tis an animal (be in what hurry I may) 1 cannot bear to strike; there is a patient endurance of suffering wrote so unaffectedly in his looks and

[graphic][merged small]

carriage which pleads so mightily for him, that it always disarms me, and to that degree that I do not like to speak unkindly to him: on the contrary, meet him where I will, whether in town or country, in cart or under panniers, whether in liberty or bondage, I have ever something civil to say to him on my part: and, as one word begets another (if he has as little to do as I), I generally fall into conversation with him; and surely never is my imagination so busy as in framing responses from the etchings of his countenance; and where those carry me not deep enough, in flying from my own heart into his, and seeing what is natural for an ass to think-as well as a man, upon the occasion. In truth, it is the only creature of all the classes of beings below me with whom I can do this. With an ass I can commune for

ever.

"Come, Honesty," said I, seeing it was impracticable to pass betwixt him and the gate, "art thou for coming in or going out?"

cudgel thee to death. Well! a minute is but a minute, and if it saves a fellow creature a drubbing, it shall not be set down as ill spent."

He was eating the stem of an artichoke as this discourse went on, and, in the little peevish contentions between hunger and unsavouriness, had dropped it out of his mouth half-a-dozen times, and had picked it up again. "God help thee, Jack!" said I, "thou hast a bitter breakfast on't-and many a bitter day's labour, and many a bitter blow, I fear, for its wages! 'Tis all, all bitterness to theewhatever life is to others! And now thy mouth, if one knew the truth of it, is as bitter, I dare say, as soot (for he had cast aside the stem), and thou hast not a friend perhaps in all this world that will give thee a macaroon." In saying this, I pulled out a paper of 'em, which I had just bought, and gave him one; and, at this moment that I am telling it, my heart smites me that there was more of pleasantry in the conceit of seeing how an ass would eat a macaroon than of benevolence in

The ass twisted his head round to look up the giving him one, which presided in the act. street.

When the ass had eaten his macaroon, I pressed "Well!" replied I, "we'll wait a minute for thy him to come in. The poor beast was heavy loaded driver." -his legs seemed to tremble under him-he hung He turned his head thoughtfully about, and rather backwards, and, as I pulled at his halter, looked wistfully the opposite way.

"I understand thee perfectly," answered I: "if thou takest a wrong step in this affair, he will

it broke in my hand. He looked up pensive in my face: "Don't thrash me with it: but if you will you may." "If I do," said I. "I'll be hanged."

« 前へ次へ »