CHAPTER XXII.
REPARATION.
The Guildhall stands northwards of the cross in the market-place, andI remember that I paused when halfway up the steps betwixt thepavement and the portico, and turned me about for a second to glancedown upon that open space, and men coming and going about it as theywilled in the warm sunlight. Mean houses enclosed it, shamblesdisfigured it; but I noticed no more than its width and spaciousness.How wide and free it seemed! And of a sudden my thoughts flashed meaway beyond these houses, and beyond the gates. The market-placevanished before my eyes like a mirage. I was once more marchingfrom Kelso to Preston, across the moors with the merlins cryingoverhead,--between the hedges,--under the open sky; and it seemed tome so swift was the passage of my memories, that I traversed in thatbrief interval all the distance of our march.
But many of the townsfolk were mounting to the court, and one thatpassed jogged against me with his elbow, and so waked me. I raised myhead. Well, here was the court-house, within sat the judge; and thoughthe sunlight beat upon my face, the shadow of the building had alreadyreached about my feet.
The little court was nigh upon full, and I pushed into a cornerbeneath the gallery, where I was like to escape notice, and yetcommand a view of what was done. There I stood for the space of tenminutes or so, watching the townsfolk enter by twos and threes in atrickling stream, thronging the floor, blocking the doorways; and Iknow not why, but gradually a great depression, a dull melancholy,overstole my spirits. It was just for this moment that I had lived formany a week back, I assured myself; my days had been one prayer forits coming, my nights one haunting fear lest it should not come. Yetthe assurance, repeat it as I might, had little meaning at the outset,and less and less at each repetition. My blood would not be whipped; Ifelt inert, in some queer way disappointed. I was like one quit of afever, but in the despondency of exhaustion. I saw the prisoner set inthe dock. I noticed the purple hollows about his eyes, the thin,flushed cheeks, the nervous gripping of his fingers on the rail. Butthe spectacle waked no pity in me, though I was conscious I shouldfeel pity; aroused no shame, though I knew I should be tingling withshame. And when Anthony Herbert sent his gaze piercing anxiously thisway and that into the throng, I wondered for a moment who it was forwhom he searched. I saw Jervas Rookley seated at a table; he turnedhis head so that the bruised scar upon his face was visible fromcheekbone to chin--and I, for all I felt towards him, might have beenlooking at the face of an inanimate statue. I saw the judge take hisseat, his robes catching the sunlight and glowing against the blackpanels of the wall, like some monstrous scarlet flower. I was as onewho contemplates a moving scene through a spy-glass, knowing it to bevery far away. The actual aspect of the court became dreamlike to me,and when the clerk of the Crown cried out "Anthony Herbert, hold upthy hand!" it seemed to me that the curtain was but now rung up upon apuppet-show.
In this listless spirit I listened while the indictment was read. Itset forth that "Anthony Herbert, as a false traitor, not weighing theduty of his allegiance, did with other false traitors conspire,compass, and imagine the death of his Majesty, the subversion of theGovernment, and to introduce the Romish religion; and for theeffecting thereof, the said Anthony Herbert did conspire to levy warupon the kingdom and bring in the Pretender."
Thereupon the indictment being read, the jury was empannelled, whichtook no short time, for of a sudden Herbert, doubtless primed for thework by Nicholas Doyle, challenges one of them--John Martin, Iremember, the man was named.
"Are you a freeholder of forty shillings a year?" he asked; and thejudge taking him up, he was allowed counsel to argue the point, whichwas done at great length and with much talk of a couple of statutes,one dating from Henry V., the other from Queen Mary. It seemed thatthey contradicted one another, but I do not know. I only know that thesunlight, pouring through a high window on the east side, shifted likethe spoke of a slow-revolving wheel, and was already withdrawing upthe wall beneath the window when Jervas Rookley was called to give hisevidence.
To this evidence I lent a careful ear, and could not but perceive thatthough there was little fact in the recital, yet innuendo so fittedwith innuendo that it might well have weight with a jury alreadyinclined to believe. But even this observation I was conscious ofmaking rather as a matter of general interest than as one in which Iwas so intimately concerned. Rookley told of Herbert's coming toKeswick, how immediately he made Lord Derwentwater's acquaintance andwas entrusted with the painting of Lady Derwentwater's portrait--awork which carried him daily to the house on Lord's Island. Then heproceeded to tell of his own journey to Paris, and how he found me anovice in a Jesuit College. The journey to Bar-le-Duc he omitted, butsaid that I had given him advice to wait for me in Paris and so hadridden off for close upon a week. The journey, said he, aroused hissuspicions; on my return I had openly professed to him my adherence tothe Stuarts, and had informed him that I had travelled to Commercy andhad seen the Pretender. He went on to describe his discovery that Icarried a letter and his failure to possess himself of it.
"Then you knew Mr. Clavering was a Jacobite so long ago as that!"interrupted Anthony Herbert. "How comes it you waited so long beforeyou moved for his arrest, unless you had a finger in the Jacobite pieyourself?"
"The witness need answer nothing that would incriminate himself,"interrupted the judge, quickly. "Besides, your turn will come. Let theKing's Counsel finish!"
"There is no reason why I should shrink from answering it," saidJervas, readily. "There was some plot on foot, so much I knew. Butwhat the plot was I knew not nor ever did; and had I laid theinformation against Lawrence Clavering then, I should myself haveclosed the avenues of knowledge."
"And what have you to say to that?" asked the judge of Herbert. "Youwill need more discretion if you are to save your neck." And he waggedhis head at the prisoner.
"My Lord," answered Herbert, in a heat, "I shall not want fordiscretion so long as I do not go begging for justice."
I could see Mr. Doyle in the body of the court, nodding and frowningat his client in a great fluster. But it was already too late for hissigns to have their effect.
"Justice!" roared the judge, turning to the jury. "Sirs, the fellowcries for justice as though it were a stranger to a jury ofEnglishmen. Nay, but justice he shall have, full measure. I am here tosee to that;" and he sat glowering at the unfortunate prisoner.
For myself the outburst was no more than I expected, and I listened toit as to an oft-told tale.
Jervas took up his story again. It may have been the heat, it may havebeen sheer weakness, but though I saw his face flush from expressionto expression, the sound of his voice seemed to me no more than a dulldroning, duller with every word; and yet every word I heard andclearly understood.
He told of my coming to Blackladies, of Lord Derwentwater's suggestionto me concerning Herbert, of my daily visits to the painter'sapartment, of my subsequent journeys about the country-side, and theinquiries I made as to troops and munitions.
Even to me hearing the story, it almost appeared that Herbert wasinextricably linked in the business, with such ingenuity was it told.The faces of the jury already condemned the prisoner, people nudgedone another about me as each detail was added, and Herbert himselfseemed to lose hope at the sight of the tangle in which he was coiled.
"I am for nothing in all this," he cried, but now in a very wail.
"And this too I doubt not is for nothing," said Mr. Cowper, thecounsel, with a mocking irony, as he held up the medal which KingJames had given to me at Commercy. He turned to Rookley--
"You have seen this before?"
"In the prisoner's lodging at Keswick."
"Will you describe it?"
I bent forward. Rookley began to speak again. He described the head ofKing James struck upon the one side, the British islands upon theother, and made mention of the two mottoes: "Cujus est?" and"Reddite!"
Rookley paused, and there was a buzz of voi
ces from the gallery, fromthe doorways, from the floor of the court. The medal was passed up tothe judge. He turned it over in his hands, and had it carried to thejurymen. I saw their heads with many a wise wagging come together overit I leaned yet farther forward, looking at Rookley. For the firsttime that day I felt a pulse of excitement. Had Rookley chanced toglance my way, he must have seen me, so openly did I crane my headover my neighbour's shoulders. But he stood with downcast eyes in themeekest humility--the very figure and image of unconscious merit. Hadhe more to say about that medal? Every second I fancied I saw hismouth open and frame the words I dreaded. The murmurs of the throngincreased; I could have shouted "Silence! Silence!" I feared that hewould speak and I miss the words; I feared that the very noise abouthim would remind him, would suggest to him, would disclose to him,anyhow would unlock his lips. But he had no further details to give,and it seemed to me that already the fresh air fanned at Herbert'sface.
"You saw the medal in the prisoner's lodging?" resumed the counsel."When?"
"More than once," replied Rookley, and took up his tale again, andagain my excitement died away. I remarked with some curiosity that hemade no mention whatever of Mrs. Herbert from first to last, and Iremembered how I had noticed before that the story fell into twohalves, whereof each seemed complete without the other. He spoke, itis true, of a pretext by which he had lured Herbert to Blackladies,but did not define the pretext, nor did the counsel examine him as toit; while I felt sure that Anthony Herbert would be the last to startthat game.
"Now," said the judge, turning to the prisoner, "it is your turn, ifyou have any questions to ask of the witness."
Herbert gathered up his papers.
"You saw this medal in my lodging?"
"Yes!"
"Do you know the purpose for which I had it there?"
Rookley straightened his shoulders, and facing Herbert, said verydeliberately--
"I suppose it was a token which would pass you as trustworthy amongstthe Jacobites."
"Did you never see it before you saw it in my lodging?"
"Never! My lord, I swear it upon my oath--never. The prisoner hasno doubt some cock-and-bull story, but that is the truth. Upon myoath--never."
"The prisoner has no cock-and-bull story," answered Herbert, leaningfiercely over the dock, "but only what he will prove with witnessess."And so he turned from the subject.
It seemed to me that Rookley turned a trifle pale and for the firsttime lost his assurance. He glanced anxiously round the court; I drewcloser into my corner. He knew that story of his about the medal to befalse; he must needs have expected Herbert would press him closelyconcerning it. But he did not--he did not. There was reason for alarm.I saw the alarm gather on Rookley's face.
"You were at great pains to effect my arrest secretly," continuedHerbert "And why was that?"
"I would not alarm Lawrence Clavering and his friends," he replied,"until I had a riper knowledge of their plots."
"But you laid the information against me with Mr. Fuller themagistrate on August 21st, and against Mr. Clavering on the 23rd; whatwas it made you change your mind between those dates?"
"But this is nothing to the purpose," said the judge, testily.
"I pray you, my Lord," said Herbert, with a certain dignity, "all thisgoes to the witness' credit; I am here for my life. I am allowed nocounsel to defend me. I pray you let me go on with my questions!" Andhe turned again to Rookley. "Did you intercept a letter from LordDerwentwater to Mr. Clavering on the afternoon of the 23rd?"
"A letter?" asked Rookley, with the air of a man hearing the mattermentioned for the first time.
"A letter," continued Herbert, "wherein Lord Derwentwater wrote thatthe French King was dying, and that Lord Bolingbroke counselled allthought of a rising should be deferred. And did you not thereupon,that same day, lay the information against Mr. Clavering?"
"But to what end is this?" interrupted the judge. "Clavering is nothere. Were he here I should know how to deal with him. But theindictment is not drawn against Clavering. It is drawn against you,and you had best look to it."
"My lord, it is all of a piece," replied Herbert
"I was an innocent, an unconscious instrument of Rookley's hatred ofMr. Clavering."
Thereupon he proceeded to question Rookley as to the reason why he hadbeen disinherited, and if it was true that he had robbed his fatherand ever proved a troublesome and disloyal son. To these inquiries hegot nothing but evasions for replies; but I observed that the witness'anxiety increased, as I could understand. For doubtless he littleexpected to have these facts arrayed against him, and began to wonderwhence Herbert's knowledge came.
The Court rose at the conclusion of his evidence for a short space, sothat when it returned, the sunlight was pouring on to the floor of theroom through the western window.
Other witnesses were called, amongst them one or two Whig gentlemenwho spoke to seeing Lady Derwentwater's portrait.
"You infer from that that I am a traitor?" said Herbert to the first.
"I thought it a strange thing an artist should come so far as toKeswick," he replied.
"But, my lord, is it a crime for a man to come to Keswick?" criedHerbert "I came thither for the landscapes."
"And therefore painted portraits!" sneered the judge.
"Nay, but a man must live," answered Herbert.
I noticed that Blackett, my servant from Blackladies, was summoned togive evidence as to messages which I had despatched him with toHerbert. But I cannot say that I paid great heed to what he said. Forthat spoke of sunlight moved upwards from the floor towards the roof,changing as it moved from gold to red, and my weariness gained on me.I felt my limbs grow heavy beneath me and my head nodding, and thewords which were spoken came to me muffled and drowsy, as if through awoollen curtain. At last Herbert was enjoined to make his defence. Thesunlight streamed in a level blaze through the windows at the heightof the gallery.
"My lord and gentlemen," he began, "I have nothing but innocence toplead. I cannot take the jury or the Court with oratory, but I declarein the presence of Almighty God that what is sworn against me is all afiction. For rebelling against the established Government or attackingthat precious life of his Majesty King George--I never had such athought. You have heard a great many innuendoes and suspicions butvery little fact, and I cannot be condemned upon suspicions. Moreover,I shall call a witness to prove to you that Jervas Rookley had thebest of reasons for fitting those suspicions together. It isBlackladies that he covets, the estate from which his fatherdisinherited him, and he seeks to regain it as a reward for his zealby pursuing me to my death, though it cost him perjury. There is butone fact alleged against me, my Lord, in all this, that I hadpossession of the medal. But it never belonged to me, and that JervasRookley knows. I shall call a witness to prove to you that it belongedto Mr. Clavering, and to explain why it was discovered in my room."
"Well, call your witness!" said the Judge.
"I do, my Lord," said Anthony Herbert. "I call Lawrence Clavering."There was a quick movement all through the court like a ripple uponstill water, and then, absolute silence--the silence of a nightfrost-bound and empty. There floated into my mind a recollection ofthe street beyond the barricade at Preston. The sunlight blazed ruddyupon motionless figures. Had a woman fainted, it seemed you might.have heard her breathing. Then quick and sharp rang out a laugh. Iknew the voice; I understood the relief in it. It flashed upon me of asudden that here was I failing again, and this time irretrievably. Ishook off the weariness which hung upon my limbs, the mist which waswrapped about my senses; I pushed aside the man who stood in front ofme.
"I call Lawrence Clavering," repeated Herbert, the certitude of histone weakening to a tremor.
From somewhere in the gallery I heard a sob, half-stifled--a sob asthough a heart was breaking, and I knew too the voice which utteredthat.
"Here!" I shouted, and thrust against the shoulders in front of me. Alane was carved as though by magic, and I advanced to th
e table.
"My lord, he is a rebel and a papist," said Rookley, starting up, hisface livid, his eyes starting from their sockets.
"Doubtless I shall answer for both those crimes," said I, "in thelaw's good time. I am here this day to prevent a wrong."
Thereupon I was sworn and bidden to take my stand in the witness-box,which I did, being so placed that my back was towards the windows andthe setting sun.
"My lord, the witness laughs," said Mr. Cowper; "I pray your lordshipwarn him that he swear truly."
But the witness was not laughing with any levity for the task to whichhis hand was set, and composed his face upon the instant. The galleryran round the three sides of the hall; the sunlight, as I say, pouredin from behind me and beat upon the gallery in front. I was looking tothat part of it over against me from which I had heard a sob; and aface looked out from the rosy glow of the sunlight and smiled at me.It was at that face--the face of Dorothy Curwen that I smiled back.For my heart was lifted within me, exultant, rejoicing. I did notthink then of the danger she ran, though the thought pressed heavilyenough upon me afterwards; I did not even consider by what means shehad come here. She _was_ here. And this time I had not failed.
My musings, however, were interrupted by the judge, who warned me veryoutrageously that since nothing now could save my body, so I need nottrust the saints would save my soul, if they caught me prevaricatingfrom the truth.
"My lord," I replied humbly, "I was at Preston, and escaped. I couldhave fled out of England and got me safe to France; I am not like tohave thrown away my life that I might tell a lie."
I shall not be particular to recount all the questions which Herbertput to me. He put many, and I answered them truthfully. I saw thejudge's face cloud and grow sterner and sterner, for every word Ispoke was a link to fetter me the more closely to my death; but theface up there in the gallery grew brighter and brighter; or so atleast I imagined. It was to the gallery I looked for my judge, andthere I saw myself acquitted.
"You have seen this medal?" asked Herbert.
"It belongs to me," said I.
"Belongs to you?" said the judge.
"It was given to me at Commercy by him whom I must ever regard as myKing."
"How came it, then, in the prisoner's lodging?"
"I took it there myself that it might be painted in my picture."
"We shall need proof of all this," said the judge; "and prithee,friend," said he, with a biting irony, "consider the oath thou hasttaken!"
"Proof there is, my lord," I cried, "and a sure proof--the pictureitself."
Thereupon the portrait was exhibited. And since the court-house wasnow falling to darkness, a couple of candles were brought and set infront of it that it might be the better seen. It was the horridestpicture that ever was seen; and the glare of the candles made it startout from the gloom like a thing alive. It was not, however, at theface I looked for any great while.
"There, my lord," I cried in excitement "On the breast! There themedal hangs."
And to his good fortune Anthony Herbert had painted that medal withall his minute elaboration. From where I stood I could distinguish thehead of King James, and when the picture was held close one could readthe motto, "Cujus est?"
I looked up to the gallery while the judge and the jury wereinspecting the picture. The last rays of the sun glowed tenderly aboutDorothy's face and died off it whilst I looked.
"But the face!" exclaimed Mr. Cowper. "My lord, this is no simpleportrait. We are not at the bottom of the matter."
"The face I have painted since I was in prison," replied Herbert; andexplained in some confusion, "I blamed Mr. Clavering for my arrest."
"Then," said the judge, "we shall need proof that the medal was notpainted in when you were in prison too."
But that proof he had, and subsequently produced in the person of hislandlord and the landlord's wife with whom he had lodged at Keswick.
Meanwhile he continued his questioning of me.
"You have heard Jervas Rookley describe the medal?"
"Yes."
"Is it the true description?"
"But incomplete," I answered, "for there are marks upon the medal.Upon one side is the face, but there are scratches upon that face,when it fell one day upon the stones. The forehead is indented, thereis a mark lengthening the curve of the mouth, there is a scratch wherethe cravat meets the neck beneath the ear."
"How came these scratches?" asked Herbert.
"I dropped the medal out of my fob," said I, "when I was thrown frommy horse on Coldbarrow Fell, the first time I came to Blackladies, andJervas Rookley picked it up and gave it back to me."
There was a murmur amongst the spectators.
"It is not true," said Rookley, but in a voice so shaken that itbelied the words.
The judge took the medal and examined it.
"I cannot see," he said. "Bring more candles."
The candles were brought; the judge examined the medal, and handed itto the counsel.
"My lord, the jury would like to see it," and the voice was that ofthe foreman.
How eagerly I watched their faces while they clustered once more aboutit!
"The marks are there," said the foreman, "as the witness has describedthem."
"I should know," said I. "I tried to rub them of so often."
"And Jervas Rookley picked it up?" asked Herbert.
"He held it so long, turning it over in his hand, that I had to askhim thrice before ever I could get it back."
I spoke with all the earnestness I had, and it seemed to me that thejury belied my words. But I could not tell, and I waited, while thejudge summed up and the jury were away considering their verdict, in afever of anxiety. How long they were! how slowly they filed into thecourt! I looked up to the gallery: a row of white faces bent on therail, all gazing towards the jury-box, save one, and that one gazed atme as I sat by the table in the court I was indeed still returningthat gaze when the verdict was announced, and I think it was Herbert'shand grasping mine which first informed me what the verdict was.
That night I slept in Carlisle prison, but as I came out upon thesteps of the court-house between my guards, I saw, by the light of thelamp swinging above the door, Herbert and his wife standing side byside; and a few yards further, the sergeant who led the way turned hislanthorn on one side and showed me the little figure of a girl and aface which peeped from out a taffety hood.