CHAPTER XXIII.
THE LAST.
For, standing in the roadway there, she seemed to me the forlornestfigure that ever a man set eyes upon. There was something more than adrooping sadness in the attitude, something strangely like remorse, asthough unaccountably she blamed herself. But I was not so curious tounravel her thoughts at this moment, as I was fearful of the risk sheran. She had sat alone in the court-house; no one had so much asspoken to her, and she stood alone in the streets of Carlisle. Theknowledge of her danger rushed in upon me, and I had but one hope tolighten it. I remembered that she had spoken to me of a Whiggishrelative who had given her shelter, and I trusted that she would finda refuge with him.
And so it indeed proved. For I had not lain more than three days inthe castle before this very gentleman was admitted to see me, andafter a prosy exhortation on the nature of my crimes, he proceeded:
"I have thought it my duty to say this much to you, but I come at theinstance of a poor misguided friend of yours, who is anxious youshould have no fears for her safety." The worthy gentleman scratchedhis forehead in some perplexity. "I cannot repeat to you all that thisfriend said. A woman in tears--a man in delirium, they both say agreat deal which is not to be repeated. But her messages were of thefriendliest--of the friendliest. For the rest the _Swallow_ lies offthe mouth of the Eden, with your friend's father on board. It appearsthat the ship sailed up the coast from a spot you maybe know of betterthan I do. Our friend returns to it to-night, and it sails forthwithto France." At the door he stopped, and scratched his head again. Thenhe rapped for the turnkey to let him out.
"The messages were of the friendliest," he repeated, and as the doorwas opened at that moment, assumed a judicial severity, and so marchedpompously out.
Left to myself, I fell straightway into a temper of amazingcontradictions. For whereas I had before been moved by the thought ofDorothy's danger, now I was troubled that she should be in such hasteto use her liberty.
"This very night must she go?" I asked of myself indignantly. "Well,there is no reason why she should stay. She will be safe in France,"and so came perilously near to weeping over myself, who must remainbehind in prison. But to that thought succeeded another, which drovethe first clean from my head. Dorothy in tears! There was matter inthat notion for an indictment against the universe; and the indictmentI drew, and supported it with such arguments as I felt sure mustenforce conviction. From that pursuit I came very naturally to aspeculation, in the nature of those friendliest messages. I construedthem by the dictionary of her looks, as she had sat in the gallery ofthe court-house. It was a task of which I did not tire, but drew greatcomfort from it, and found it very improving.
The next day, however, I was taken out of the castle and sent forwardunder an escort, to join my co-rebels who were being marched by easystages to London. I caught them up at St. Albans, and coming to Barnetwe had our hands tied, and halters thrown about our horses' necks, andso were carried through the streets of London to Newgate gaol. Such aconcourse of people came to view us as I have never seen the like of.The town was dressed for a holiday; and what with the banging ofdrums, the hurrahing for King George, and the damning of the"Pretender," the air so rang with noise, that it was as much as youcould to hear your neighbour speak. One sturdy Whig, I remember,planted himself in our way, and with many jeers and imprecationslifted up a jackdaw tricked out with white roses, which he carried ona warming-pan, and so paced backwards and in front of us, until asoldier cracked him on the chest with the butt of his firelock, andtoppled the fellow into the gutter.
In Newgate, there I remained a weary while, though this period wasmade as light for us as well could be. We had the liberty of thePress yard, and were allowed to receive visitors and to visit oneanother--no inconsiderable privilege, one may think, if one counts upthe number imprisoned there. There it came about that I saw much ofCharles Ratcliffe, Lord Derwentwater's brother; and though he was notof his brother's amiable and endearing disposition, grew to someintimacy with him. He thought me, indeed, a great fool for running myhead into the noose at Carlisle for a beggarly painter, and neverscrupled to tell me so; but I think it was just that action whichinclined his friendship my way. There were other consolations came tome, and one of them was lighted with a glimmering of hope; for one daycame Sir William Wyndham to see me, and informed me that LordBolingbroke was very active in my behalf, urging upon his friends inEngland to make representations for my release, or, if that failed, toconcert measures for my evasion. I set no great reliance upon eitheralternative, but Sir William Wyndham came again in March of the year1716, after the rebellion had closed in Scotland, and Lord Bolingbrokehad been dismissed from the service of King James.
"Mr. Secretary Stanhope encourages your kinsman," said he, "in thehope that he may be pardoned. In which event something might be donefor you. Meanwhile, I have a message to deliver to you from him. 'TellLawrence,' he says, 'that here in Paris I am much plagued and pesteredby a young friend of his, who tells me that unless I unlock Newgate, Ido not deserve to be related to him. I am greatly humiliated by somuch scolding, but will do what I can.'"
It was not very much, however, that he could do; and on the 8th of MayI was arraigned with Charles Ratcliffe at the Exchequer Bar atWestminster, and tried there on the 18th, and taken back again a fewdays later to receive sentence.
"But we shall not be hanged," said Ratcliffe. "You will see."
Indeed, he ever had the greatest confidence that he would escape. Irecollect that on the occasion when we were being carried from Newgateto receive sentence at Westminster, our coach was stopped in FleetStreet to make way for King George, who was setting out upon his firstvisit to Herrenhausen since he had come to the English throne. Westopped opposite a distiller's, and Ratcliffe, leaning from thewindow, very coolly called for half a pint of aniseed, and drank itoff.
"There is some merit in the Dutchman, after all," he said with alaugh, "for I was in great need of that."
The events, however, justified his confidence. Never shall I forgetthe weeks which followed our condemnation--the intrigues with ourfriends outside, the timorous bribing of the gaolers within. One daythe plan would be settled, the moment for its execution appointed, andthe next thing maybe we saw was the countenance of a new gaoler, andso the attempt must needs be deferred and the trouble begin again. Orat another time news would be brought to us that we should receive theclemency of the Crown and only suffer transportation to the colonies;or, again, that we were to be granted a free pardon; or, again, thatthe sentence was to be carried out within a week. So that now wekicked our heels upon the pinnacles of hope, now we sank into a bog ofdespair, and either way we shivered with fever--all of us exceptCharles Ratcliffe.
It was with his usual serenity that when at last all arrangements hadbeen made, he invited those of us who were in the plot to a grandentertainment in a room called the Castle, in the upper part of theprison.
"There are thirteen of us besides myself," said he, as soon as thesupper was served and we were left alone. "The rest must shift forthemselves. Mr. Clavering, do you help me with this file, and do you,gentlemen, be sufficiently ill-mannered to make as much clatter withthe dishes and your talk as will drown the sound of it."
Whereupon he drew a file from his pocket, and I crossed over with himto a little door in the corner of the room; and while the otherstalked and clattered, I went to work with my file upon the screws ofthe plate which held the lock to the door. When I was tired and myfingers bleeding, Ratcliffe took my place, and after him another,until at last the plate came away.
"Now," said Ratcliffe, "the passage leads to the debtors' side. Wehave been to solace our good friend Mr. Tiverton, who has been mostunkindly committed by his creditors. Mr. Tiverton--pray do not forgetthe name, gentlemen! For even the most obliging gaoler might cavil ifwe forgot the name."
We followed him quickly along the passage, across the yard to theporter's lodge.
&n
bsp; "Poor man!" says Ratcliffe, "it is very barbarous and inhuman that aman of genius should go to prison for lack of money."
"For my part, sir," says the gaoler, throwing open the wicket, "I pityhis tradesmen."
"But some men are born to be gulled," says Ratcliffe, with his tonguein his cheek. "And here's five guineas for you," and he stepped intothe street.
We followed him quickly enough, and once there scattered without somuch as a single word of farewell. Each man had his own plant, nodoubt. For myself, I knew that a certain sloop was waiting for me onthe Thames, and I hurried down to the water's edge below LondonBridge. A boat was waiting by the steps.
"Lawrence," cried a voice which sent my heart leaping.
"Hush!" I whispered, and jumped into the stern.
Dorothy made room for me beside her.
"Push off," she said; and in a moment we were floating down the river,in and out between the ships.
"Give me the tiller," said I.
"No," said Dorothy; "it was my doing that you were brought into peril.Let me steer you out of it."
The number of ships diminished. Before they were about us like thetrees of a forest, now they were the trees of an alley down which wepassed; and ever the alley broadened and the trees grew scarce.
"I saw you that night at Carlisle," she began, "when you were taken tothe castle;" and at that she broke off suddenly and her voicestiffened.
"My kinsman came to you at Carlisle. What did he say?"
"He said that he was charged with the friendliest messages from you."
"Is that all?"
Now, there was something more, but I thought it wise to make nomention of it.
"He did not repeat the messages," was all I said, and she sat up asthough her pride was relieved, and for a little we were silent. A shipwas anchored some way ahead of us, and a lanthorn swung on its poop.
"Is it the _Swallow?_" I asked.
"Yes," said she; and then, "before I left Carlisle I saw her."
For a moment I wondered of whom she was talking.
"I saw her and her husband."
Then I understood.
"She is very plain," said Dorothy in a whisper.
"Oh no," said I, "indeed she is not. You do her an injustice."
"But she is," repeated Dorothy, "she is."
It would have been better had I left the matter thus, but I wasfoolish enough to seriously argue the point with her, and so hotbecame the argument that we overshot the ship.
"That is your fault," said Dorothy, as she turned the boat
We rowed to the ship's side, a ladder was hoisted over, and a lanthornheld. By the light of it I could see Mr. Curwen, and behind him myservant Ashlock. I rose to give a hand to Dorothy, but she sat in thestern without so much as a pretence of movement.
"Come, Dorothy," said Mr. Curwen.
Dorothy looked steadily at me.
"She is very plain," she said, and then looked away across the river,humming a tune.
I was in a quandary as to what I should do. For I knew that she wasnot plain; but also I knew that Dorothy would not move until I hadsaid she was. So I stood then holding on to the ladder while the boatrose and sank beneath my feet. I have been told since that there wasreally only one expedient which would have served my turn, and thatwas to tumble incontinently into the water and make as much pretenceof drowning as I could. Only it never occurred to me, and so I weaklygave in.
Dorothy stepped on board. The boat was hoisted, the anchor raised, andin the smallest space of time the foam was bubbling from the bows.Overhead the stars shone steady in the sky and danced in the waterbeneath us, and so we sailed to France.
"Dorothy," said I, "there is a word which has been much used betweenus--friends."
"Yes!" said she in a low voice, "it is a good word."
And so it was many months afterwards before I came to her again inParis and pleaded that there was a better.
"I would you thought with me," I stammered out.
Dorothy, with the sweetest laugh that ever my ears hearkened to, beganto sing over to herself a verse of "The Honest Lover."
"Dear heart," she said, "I called you an owl, but it should have beena bat."
Jervas Rookley I never came across again. But I know that he did notwin Blackladies, though whether a suspicion of his treachery isaccountable or the avarice of the Hanoverians, I cannot tell. I haveheard, too, that at one time he was the master of a ship trading inthe South Seas; but of this, again, I have no sure knowledge.
THE END.
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