XXX. JOB LEGH'S DECEPTION.
"Oh! sad is the night-time, The night-time of sorrow, When through the deep gloom, we catch but the boom Of the waves that may whelm us to-morrow."
Job found Mrs. Wilson pacing about in a restless way; not speakingto the woman at whose house she was staying, but occasionallyheaving such deep oppressive sighs as quite startled those aroundher.
"Well!" said she, turning sharp round in her tottering walk up anddown as Job came in.
"Well, speak!" repeated she, before he could make up his mind whatto say; for, to tell the truth, he was studying for some kind-hearted lie which might soothe her for a time. But now the realstate of the case came blurting forth in answer to her impatientquestioning.
"Will's not to the fore. But he'll maybe turn up yet, time enough."
She looked at him steadily for a minute, as if almost doubting ifsuch despair could be in store for her as his words seemed to imply.Then she slowly shook her head, and said, more quietly than mighthave been expected from her previous excited manner--
"Don't go for to say that! Thou dost not think it. Thou'rt well-nigh hopeless, like me. I seed all along my lad would be hung forwhat he never did. And better he were, and were shut* of this wearyworld, where there's neither justice nor mercy left."
*Shut; quit.
She looked up with tranced eyes as if praying, and then sat down.
"Nay, now thou'rt off at a gallop," said Job. "Will has sailed thismorning, for sure; but that brave wench, Mary Barton, is after him,and will bring him back, I'll be bound, if she can but get speech onhim. She's not back yet. Come, come, hold up thy head. It willall end right."
"It will all end right," echoed she; "but not as thou tak'st it.Jem will be hung, and will go to his father and the little lads,where the Lord God wipes away all tears, and where the Lord Jesusspeaks kindly to the little ones, who look about for the mothersthey left upon earth. Eh, Job, yon's a blessed land, and I long togo to it, and yet I fret because Jem is hastening there. I wouldnot fret if he and I could lie down to-night to sleep our lastsleep; not a bit would I fret if folk would but know him to beinnocent--as I do."
"They'll know it sooner or later, and repent sore if they've hangedhim for what he never did," replied Job.
"Ay, that they will. Poor souls! May God have mercy on them whenthey find out their mistake."
Presently Job grew tired of sitting waiting, and got up, and hungabout the door and window, like some animal wanting to go out. Itwas pitch dark, for the moon had not yet risen.
"You just go to bed," said he to the widow; "you'll want yourstrength for to-morrow. Jem will be sadly off, if he sees you socut up as you look to-night. I'll step down again and find Mary.She'll be back by this time. I'll come and tell you everything,never fear. But now, you go to bed."
"Thou'rt a kind friend, Job Legh, and I'll go, as thou wishest me.But, oh! mind thou com'st straight off to me, and bring Mary as soonas thou'st lit on her." She spoke low, but very calmly.
"Ay, ay!" replied Job, slipping out of the house.
He went first to Mr. Bridgnorth's, where it had struck him that Willand Mary might be all this time waiting for him.
They were not there, however. Mr. Bridgnorth had just come in, andJob went breathlessly upstairs to consult with him as to the stateof the case.
"It's a bad job," said the lawyer, looking very grave, while hearranged his papers. "Johnson told me how it was; the woman thatWilson lodged with told him. I doubt it's but a wildgoose chase ofthe girl Barton. Our case must rest on the uncertainty ofcircumstantial evidence, and the goodness of the prisoner's previouscharacter. A very vague and weak defence. However, I've engagedMr. Clinton as counsel, and he'll make the best of it. And now, mygood fellow, I must wish you good-night, and turn you out of doors.As it is, I shall have to sit up into the small hours. Did you seemy clerk as you came upstairs? You did! Then may I trouble you toask him to step up immediately?"
After this Job could not stay, and, making his humble bow, he leftthe room.
Then he went to Mrs. Jones's. She was in, but Charley had slippedoff again. There was no holding that boy. Nothing kept him butlock and key, and they did not always; for once she had him lockedup in the garret, and he had got off through the skylight. Perhapsnow he was gone to see after the young woman down at the docks. Henever wanted an excuse to be there.
Unasked, Job took a chair, resolved to wait Charley's reappearance.
Mrs. Jones ironed and folded her clothes, talking all the time ofCharley and her husband, who was a sailor in some ship bound forIndia, and who, in leaving her their boy, had evidently left herrather more than she could manage. She moaned and croaked oversailors, and seaport towns, and stormy weather, and sleeplessnights, and trousers all over tar and pitch, long after Job had leftoff attending to her, and was only trying to hearken to every stepand every voice in the street.
At last Charley came in, but he came alone.
"Yon Mary Barton has getten into some scrape or another," said he,addressing himself to Job. "She's not to be heard of at any of thepiers; and Bourne says it were a boat from the Cheshire side as shewent aboard of. So there's no hearing of her till to-morrowmorning."
"To-morrow morning she'll have to be in court at nine o'clock, tobear witness on a trial," said Job sorrowfully.
"So she said; at least somewhat of the kind," said Charley, lookingdesirous to hear more. But Job was silent.
He could not think of anything further that could be done; so herose up, and, thanking Mrs. Jones for the shelter she had given him,he went out into the street; and there he stood still, to ponderover probabilities and chances.
After some little time he slowly turned towards the lodging where hehad left Mrs. Wilson. There was nothing else to be done; but heloitered on the way, fervently hoping that her weariness and herwoes might have sent her to sleep before his return, that he mightbe spared her questionings.
He went very gently into the house-place where the sleepy landladyawaited his coming and his bringing the girl, who, she had beentold, was to share the old woman's bed.
But in her sleepy blindness she knocked things so about in lightingthe candle (she could see to have a nap by firelight, she said),that the voice of Mrs. Wilson was heard from the little back-room,where she was to pass the night.
"Who's there?"
Job gave no answer, and kept down his breath, that she might thinkherself mistaken. The landlady, having no such care, dropped thesnuffers with a sharp metallic sound, and then, by her endlessapologies, convinced the listening woman that Job had returned.
"Job! Job Legh!" she cried out nervously.
"Eh, dear!" said Job to himself, going reluctantly to her bedroomdoor. "I wonder if one little lie would be a sin, as things stand?It would happen give her sleep, and she won't have sleep for manyand many a night (not to call sleep), if things goes wrongto-morrow. I'll chance it, any way."
"Job! art thou there?" asked she again with a trembling impatiencethat told in every tone of her voice.
"Ay! sure! I thought thou'd ha' been asleep by this time."
"Asleep! How could I sleep till I know'd if Will were found?"
"Now for it," muttered Job to himself. Then in a louder voice,"Never fear! he's found, and safe, ready for to-morrow."
"And he'll prove that thing for my poor lad, will he? He'll bearwitness that Jem were with him? O Job, speak! tell me all!"
"In for a penny, in for a pound," thought Job. "Happen one prayerwill do for the sum total. Any rate, I must go on now. Ay, ay,"shouted he, through the door. "He can prove all; and Jem will comeoff as clear as a new-born babe."
He could hear Mrs. Wilson's rustling movements, and in an instantguessed she was on her knees, for he heard her trembling voiceuplifted in thanksgiving and praise to God, stopped at times by sobsof gladness and relief.
And when he heard this, his heart misgave him; for he thought of theawful enligh
tening, the terrible revulsion of feeling that awaitedher in the morning. He saw the shortsightedness of falsehood; butwhat could he do now?
While he listened, she ended her grateful prayers.
"And Mary? Thou'st found her at Mrs. Jones's, Job?" said she,continuing her inquiries.
He gave a great sigh.
"Yes, she was there, safe enough, second time of going. God forgiveme!" muttered he, "who'd ha' thought of my turning out such anarrant liar in my old days."
"Bless the wench! Is she here? Why does she not come to bed? I'msure she's need."
Job coughed away his remains of conscience, and made answer--
"She was a bit weary, and o'erdone with her sail! and Mrs. Jonesaxed her to stay there all night. It was nigh at hand to thecourts, where she will have to be in the morning."
"It comes easy enough after a while," groaned out Job. "The fatherof lies helps one, I suppose, for now my speech comes as natural astruth. She's done questioning now, that's one good thing. I'll beoff, before Satan and she are at me again."
He went to the house-place, where the landlady stood wearilywaiting. Her husband was in bed, and asleep long ago.
But Job had not yet made up his mind what to do. He could not go tosleep, with all his anxieties, if he were put into the best bed inLiverpool.
"Thou'lt let me sit up in this arm-chair," said he at length to thewoman, who stood, expecting his departure.
He was an old friend, so she let him do as he wished. But, indeed,she was too sleepy to have opposed him. She was too glad to bereleased and go to bed.