Ten Thousand a-Year. Volume 3

CHAPTER VI

At the earliest moment at which Mr. Aubrey could, without suspicion, extricate himself from the embraces of his overjoyed wife, sister, and children, on his return to Vivian Street, he withdrew to his study, in order—professedly—to despatch some letters; but really to peruse the paper which had been given to him by Mr. Runnington, with such ominous significance. His eye soon caught the words "Ex parte Titmouse"—and he glanced over the above report of the proceedings, with exceeding agitation. He read it over twice or thrice, and felt really sick at heart.

"Oh, unfathomable Gammon!" he exclaimed at length, aloud, laying down the paper, and sinking into his chair. "Surely I am the weakest, or you the subtlest of mankind!" He turned over in his thoughts everything that he could recollect of Gammon's conduct, from the first moment that they had met. He felt completely baffled and bewildered. Again he perused the report of the proceedings in the King's Bench—and would have again relapsed into thought; but his eye happened to alight on two or three notes lying on his table, where they had been placed by Fanny, having come in his absence. He opened the first listlessly, not knowing the handwriting; but, on unfolding it, he started violently on recognizing that of Gammon, within; and with mingled wonder and fear, read as follows:—

"Thavies' Inn.

"Dear Sir,—Heaven only knows when or where these hasty lines will find you. I am forced to address them to Vivian Street, being in total ignorance of your intended movements. If you have not taken my advice, and withdrawn from the kingdom, I know not what grievous indignity may not have befallen you. You may have been torn from your family, and now incarcerated in prison, the victim of a most cruel and inveterate rapacity. My conscience bears me witness that I can say—I can do—no more for you. I am grossly misrepresented—I am insulted, by having base and sinister motives attributed to me, for my conduct towards you—for my anxious and repeated interference on your behalf. In the Morning Growl of to-day you will probably see—if you have not already seen—the report of some proceedings against me, yesterday, in the Court of King's Bench. It may apprise you of the last desperate stand I have made for you. It is with bitter regret—it is with a feeling of deep indignation, that I tell you I am unable to fulfil my solemn, my deliberate, my repeated promise to you concerning the two promissory notes which you deposited with me, in implicit reliance on my honor. Alas! you must prepare for the worst! Mr. Titmouse and his new adviser can have, of course, but one object in requiring the surrender of the two promissory notes, which I have already been compelled to give up, under peril of an attachment for contempt of court. I have strained, God knows! every nerve on your behalf; have all but fatally quarrelled with Mr. Titmouse, and with my partners; and I stand in some measure compromised, by the recent proceedings, before the profession and the public—and all in vain! Yet, once more—if you are not blinded and infatuated beyond all example or belief—I implore you, in the name of Heaven—by every consideration that should influence a man of honor and of feeling—fly!—lose not a second after reading these lines, (which I entreat you to destroy when read,) or that second may involve your ruin—and the ruin of all connected with you! Believe me, your distressed—your unalterable friend,

"O. G."

Mr. Aubrey laid down this letter; and sinking back again into his chair, yielded for some moments to an impulse very nearly akin to despair. "Oh God!" he exclaimed, pressing his hand against his aching forehead—"to what hast Thou destined us, Thy wretched creatures!—I am forbidden to believe—I cannot—I will not believe—that Thou hast made us only to torment us; yet, alas! my spirit is at length drooping under these accumulated evils!—Oh God! oh God! I am blind. Give me sight, to discern Thy will concerning me!—Oh give me not up to despair! Break not the bruised reed! Quench not the smoking flax!—What is to become of me? Is this man Thy messenger of evil to me? Is he the subtle and vindictive fiend I fear him to be? What can be his object—his motive—for resorting to such tortuous and complicated scheming against us as must be his if he be playing the hypocrite?—or is he really what he represents himself? And am I guilty of groundless distrust—of gross ingratitude?—What shall I think, what can I do? Oh my God, preserve my senses to me—my understanding! My brain seems reeling! My perceptions are becoming disturbed!—Perhaps this very night the frightful scene of the morning may be acted over again! again my bleeding heart be torn from those it loves—to whom Thou hast united it!"—A deep sigh, or rather groan, burst from him; and leaning over the table, he buried his face in his hands, and remained for some time in that posture.

"What am I to do?" he presently inquired, rising, and walking to and fro. "Fly—he says! Were I weak and unprincipled enough to do so, should I not, in all human probability, fall into the deepest pit he has dug for me?—but be that as it may—fly I will not! Never! Never! Those dear—those precious beings in yonder room"—his heart thrilled within him—"may weep for me, but shall never BLUSH for me!"

"Why—how horrid is my position!" he presently exclaimed to himself! "Ten thousand pounds and upwards, must either I pay, or Lord De la Zouch for me, within a few months;—here is a second ten thousand pounds, with nearly five hundred pounds of interest; I have been to-day arrested for nearly fifteen hundred pounds; and this man Titmouse holds my bond for two thousand pounds more, and interest! Is it, then, Thy will, O God! that I am to sink beneath my troubles? Am I to perish from Thy sight? To be crushed beneath Thy displeasure?—Or merciful Father!—wilt Thou save me, when there is none other to help?"

Calmness seemed stealing insensibly over his troubled spirits; his agitated feelings sank gradually into an indescribable and wonderful repose; in that dismal moment of extreme suffering, his soul became blessedly sensible of its relationship to God;—that he was not the miserable victim of chance—as the busy spirit of darkness incessantly whispered in his ear—but in the hands of the Father of the spirits of all flesh, who listened, in his behalf, to the pleading of One touched with the feeling of our infirmities—who was in all points tempted, even as we are. His fainting soul felt sustained by the grace for which it had sought; the oil and balm of a sound scriptural consolation were poured into his wounds. Before his quickened eye arose many bright figures of those who had gloriously overcome the fiercest assaults of the Evil One, resisting even unto death:—he felt for a moment compassed about by a great cloud of witnesses to the mercy and goodness of God. Oh, in that moment, how, wonderfully little seemed the sorrows which had before appeared so great! He felt, in a manner, at once humbled and exalted. Invisible support clung to his confident soul—as if he were surrounded by the arm of Him who will not suffer us to be tempted above what we are able; but will, with the temptation, also make a way to escape, that we may be able to bear it. He sank silently upon his knees; and with clasped hands, and his face raised towards heaven, with profound contrition of spirit, yet with firm faith, besought the mercy which God has promised to those who thus will ask for it. Thus occupied, he did not perceive the door gently opened, and by Mrs. Aubrey—who, closing it hastily after her, flung her arm round his neck, sinking down beside him, and in a low, fond voice, exclaimed—"Oh, my own love! My own Charles! My poor, oppressed, persecuted, heart-broken husband! Pray for me—me also!" He gently returned her embrace, looking at her unutterable things; and after they had remained thus for a few moments, they arose. He gazed at her with unspeakable tenderness, and a countenance full of serenity and resignation. He gently soothed her agitated feelings, and succeeded in communicating to her a measure of the composure which he experienced himself. Before they had quitted that little room, he had even apprised her faithfully of the peril which momentarily menaced them; and again the cold waters gushed over her soul. At length, however, she had recovered her self-possession sufficiently to return to the room she had quitted, and instantly blanched Miss Aubrey's cheek by communicating the new terrors which threatened them.

Just as they were finishing dinner—a mere mockery, however, of a meal—a double knock at the door occasioned them all not a little agitation; but, as the event proved, needlessly, since it announced the arrival of only their kind, experienced friend, Mr. Runnington—who evidently felt infinitely relieved at finding that Mrs. Aubrey and Miss Aubrey had been made acquainted by Mr. Aubrey with the additional source of apprehension afforded by the report of the preceding day's doings in the King's Bench. Mr. Runnington felt assured that within twenty-four hours' time, proceedings would be taken against Mr. Aubrey; whom, however, he reminded, that as in the former, so in the anticipated case, the extent of his immediate anxiety would be the finding bail for so very serious an amount; but that difficulty surmounted, he would be safe from personal annoyance and apprehension till the ensuing November. Mr. Aubrey then apprised Mr. Runnington of the death of Lady Stratton, and the grievous events connected with it, amid the tears and sobs of Mrs. Aubrey and Kate. Though he said but little, his countenance showed how much he was shocked by the intelligence. "Never in my experience," at length he observed, "a thirty-six years' experience in the profession, have I heard of, or met with, such a case of complicated misfortune as yours! 'But it is,' as the old proverb has it, 'a long lane that has no turning.' We must trust, my dear sir, to the chapter of accidents."

"Oh, Mr. Runnington!" interrupted Aubrey, with animation, "there is no such thing!—It is the order of Providence!"

They then entered into a long conversation; in the course of which—"If our fears—our worst fears—be confirmed," observed Runnington, "and they venture to put in suit these two notes—then they will have thrown down the gauntlet. I'll take it up—and there's no knowing what may happen when we come to close quarters. First and foremost, I'll tax away every farthing of the alleged 'balance' of their monstrous bill—ay, I'll stake my reputation on it, that I leave them not a shilling; but, on the contrary, prove that you have already greatly overpaid them."

"Alas! have I not, however, pledged myself to Mr. Gammon not to do so?" interrupted Aubrey.

"Pshaw!—Forgive me, but this is absurd. Indeed, Mr. Aubrey, it is really out-heroding Herod! All is fair against adversaries such as these! Besides, if you must be so scrupulous and fastidious—and I honor you for it—there's another way of putting it, which I fancy settles the matter. By Mr. Titmouse putting these bills in suit, Messrs. Quirk, Gammon, and Snap's promise to you is not performed—it is broken; and so there is an end of yours, which is dependent upon the performance of theirs."

"That is only on the supposition that they are playing me false—whereas the proceedings yesterday in court, especially when coupled with Mr. Gammon's letters to me"–

"All hollow! hollow!" replied Mr. Runnington, shaking his head.—"False and hypocritical! Who could trust to Gammon? This fellow Titmouse, whom they are doubtless fleecing daily, is, in all probability, desperately driven for ready money; and they have allowed him to get hold of these two bills, after a sham resistance on the part of Gammon, in order to call forward your friends to the rescue—that's their game, depend upon it!" Mr. Aubrey fired at the bare thought. "Yet I must own I am at a loss to discover what motive or object Mr. Gammon can have for going so far out of his way to secure your good opinion, or for wrapping himself in so impenetrable a disguise. He is a very, very deep devil, that Gammon; and, depend upon it, has some sinister purpose to effect, which you will by-and-by discover!" Mr. Aubrey then, for the first time, acquainted Mr. Runnington with Gammon's recent proposals to Miss Aubrey, at which Mr. Runnington seemed for some moments struck dumb with astonishment.

"I presume," at length said he, turning with a brief and sad smile towards Miss Aubrey, whose reddening cheek betokened the interest she felt in the conversation—"I presume, Miss Aubrey, there is no chance of our seeing you pass into—Mrs. Gammon?"

"I should rather think not, Mr. Runnington," she replied with sufficient loftiness of manner; "and I am quite at a loss, to conceive what could possibly have put such a thing into his head."

"Certainly, Mr. Runnington," said Aubrey, "I can undertake to say that my sister never gave him any encouragement."

"Encouragement?—Horrid man!" exclaimed Miss Aubrey, with great vivacity. "I could never bear him—you know it, Charles—so do you, Agnes!" Mr. Runnington made no further observations on the subject, though his thoughts were very busy; he was satisfied that he was beginning to discover a clew to much of Gammon's conduct—for that that gentleman was acting with profound duplicity, Mr. Runnington entertained no doubt whatever; and he resolved to watch his every motion connected with Mr. Aubrey closely.

"What will be the earliest period;" inquired Mr. Aubrey, "at which Mr. Titmouse, if so disposed, can put in suit my bond given to the late Lady Stratton?"

"As soon as he has obtained the grant of letters of administration, which cannot take place till the end of fourteen days from her Ladyship's death—that being one difference, as you are aware, between the powers of an executor and an administrator." Mr. Aubrey sighed; and made no reply; while Mr. Runnington looked at him for some moments in silence, as if doubting whether to mention something which had occurred to him. At length—"Of course, Mr. Aubrey," he commenced, "one does not like to raise groundless hopes or fears; but, do you know, I am by no means free from doubts as to the reality of Lady Stratton's intestacy—whether the draft of her proposed will, brought to her by Mr. Parkinson, could not be admitted to probate. Very—very nice questions, as you must be aware, often arise out of cases like these! Since seeing you this morning, I have written off to Mr. Parkinson for full and accurate information on the point; and if I get a satisfactory answer, with your consent I will certainly lodge a caveat against the grant of titles of administration. That would indeed checkmate them! But I have very slight hopes indeed of receiving such an answer as one could wish," added Mr. Runnington, fearful of exciting fruitless expectations. Shortly afterwards, Miss Aubrey, who had appeared for some little time laboring under considerable excitement, addressing her brother, said with evident embarrassment—"Charles, I am very anxious to mention something that has occurred to me of a very singular nature—if you think I am at liberty to do so; and I shall first ask you and Mr. Runnington, whether, under the circumstances, you consider me entitled to disclose what I allude to."

"Kate, Kate!—what is this?—What do you mean? You quite alarm me!" inquired her brother, with an amazed air.

"Suppose Mr. Gammon, on the occasion of his calling upon me, which has been recently mentioned, volunteered a statement of a very, very extraordinary description—one that has ever since quite haunted me, day and night. Mind, Charles—I say that, in the first instance, he volunteered it, only expressing an earnest wish that I should mention it to no one; on which I said I should make no promise, but act as I might think proper; and after my saying this, he made the communication I allude to. Should I be at liberty," continued Miss Aubrey, eagerly and anxiously, "now to disclose what he told me? I am dying to do it, if I may, honorably."

"My dear Kate, I really fear you are wandering—that you are overcome with the sufferings you have gone through to-day," said her brother, tenderly, and with infinite concern.

"Indeed, Charles, I am not," she answered with great earnestness.

"Then I am of opinion that you may most certainly mention anything so communicated to you—I have no doubt, Kate."

"Nor I, Miss Aubrey," added Mr. Runnington, eagerly; "nay, I go farther—with a man like him, I think it is your duty to disclose anything he may have said to you."

Miss Aubrey paused for a few moments, and then mentioned the singular circumstance with which the reader is already acquainted; namely, Mr. Gammon's distinct and solemn assurance to her, that he possessed the power of restoring her brother to the possession of Yatton; and that, too, by legal and honorable means; and that, if she would but promise to receive him as her suitor, he would pledge himself to replace them all at Yatton before claiming the performance of that promise.

Mr. Aubrey, Mrs. Aubrey, and Mr. Runnington, all listened to this strange story in silence, and gazed in astonishment at the beautiful and excited speaker.

"Forgive me, dear madam," said Mr. Runnington, at length, exchanging an incredulous glance with her brother, "if I—I—express a doubt whether you may not be laboring under a complete misconception"–

"'T is impossible, Kate!" added her brother; but he knew, at the same time, his sister's strong sense; and all doubt vanished both from his mind and that of Mr. Runnington on her calmly and distinctly repeating what she had just said—giving even the very expressions made use of by Mr. Gammon, and which, she said, they might easily believe had made a very deep impression on her mind.

"It's inconceivable!" exclaimed her brother, after a long pause.

"It's an audacious and cruel falsehood, in my opinion," said Mr. Runnington: and all again were silent. Then he hastily ran his mind's eye over the main points in the late proceedings by which Mr. Aubrey had been ejected from Yatton. "Either," he continued after a pause, "he is a gross liar, or is laboring under insanity—or there has been shocking, atrocious villany practised against you. If he be in his senses, and be speaking the truth—gracious Heaven! he must have brought forward a series of perjured witnesses at the trial."

"Did he drop any hint, Kate, as to the means by which he could bring about such a result?" inquired her brother, after a long pause, during which he too had been, like Mr. Runnington, reflecting on the course of proof by which the case of Titmouse had been supported.

"No—not the remotest; of that I am certain. I observed that particularly; though shortly afterwards, I was so overcome by what he had said, and also by the manner in which he said it, that I fainted. Mr. Gammon must have carried me to the sofa; for when I revived, I was lying there—though, when I felt myself losing my consciousness, I was standing near the window, which I had risen to open."

"It's the most amazing thing I ever heard in my life, I protest!" exclaimed Mr. Runnington, thoughtfully; while Mr. Aubrey rose from his chair, and walked a few steps to and fro, obviously laboring under much excitement.

"Kate, Kate!" said he, rather vehemently, "you should have told me this the instant that you next saw me!"

"For Heaven's sake, be calm, dearest Charles!" cried Mrs. Aubrey, herself not a little agitated by the extraordinary intelligence just communicated by Kate, for the first time, even to her. Poor Kate, on seeing the way in which her communication had been received, heartily regretted having mentioned the matter.

"This will require very great consideration, Mr. Aubrey, to know how to deal with it, and with Gammon," said Mr. Runnington. "I am inclined to think, at present, that he would hardly have ventured upon so outrageous a piece of folly, as making such a representation as this, had there been no foundation for it in fact; and yet, I am quite astonished that a man so acute, so signally self-possessed, should have so committed himself—he must have been under some great excitement at the moment."

"He certainly was, or at least seemed, a good deal agitated while he was with me," quoth Kate, coloring a little.

"That is highly probable, Miss Aubrey," replied Mr. Runnington, with a faint smile. "It must have appeared to him as one of the most likely occurrences, that Miss Aubrey should mention to you, Mr. Aubrey, so extraordinary a circumstance! It is very, very difficult to imagine Mr. Gammon thrown off his guard on any occasion." Then ensued an anxious and prolonged conversation on the subject, in which many conjectures were made, but without leading to any satisfactory issue. Quite a new light, however, seemed now thrown upon all his past acts, and the whole tenor of his conduct. They read over his last two notes with new and deep interest, on the supposition that while writing them, he was conscious of possessing the power which he had represented. All was mystery. Then was discussed the question, as to the propriety of either Mr. Runnington or Mr. Aubrey applying to Mr. Gammon upon the subject—a step which was, however, postponed for future and more mature consideration. Another thing suggested itself to Mr. Aubrey, but he kept it to himself:—should he forthwith apprise Mr. Gammon of the fact that Kate was absolutely engaged to Mr. Delamere, and so at once and forever extinguish all hope on the part of Mr. Gammon?

The evening, however, was now advancing, and Mr. Runnington pressed upon Mr. Aubrey the object which he had chiefly had in view in calling—viz. to prevail on Mrs. Aubrey and himself to accompany him immediately to his country house, which lay in the direction of Richmond, at about six miles' distance from town; and where, for a brief interval, they might enjoy a respite from the frightful suspense and danger to which they were at present exposed in Vivian Street. Mrs. Aubrey and Kate most earnestly seconded the kind importunities of Mr. Runnington; and after considerable hesitation Mr. Aubrey consented. It was accordingly arranged that, Mr. Runnington's carriage not being in town, he should return, within an hour, with a glass-coach; and that, during the ensuing day, Mrs. Runnington should drive to town for the purpose of bringing back with her Miss Aubrey, and little Charles and Agnes. This having been determined upon, Mr. Runnington quitted them, promising to return within an hour, when he hoped to find them ready to start, and equipped for a several days' sojourn. As soon as he had left the house, Mr. Aubrey's scruples began to revive; it appeared to him, that though it might be for a short time only, still it was, in effect, an absconding from his creditors: and there is no knowing but that his fastidious misgivings, his delicate sense of rectitude, might have led him after all to send off Mrs. Aubrey alone, when, poor soul! he was spared the trial by an incident which occurred about half an hour after Mr. Runnington's departure. Mrs. Aubrey was sitting in the parlor in travelling dress, fondling little Agnes, and talking earnestly to Kate about the management of the two children, and other matters; while Mr. Aubrey, also ready to start, was in the study selecting a book or two to take with him, when a heavy single knock at the door, unaccompanied by the sound of coach-wheels, nearly paralyzed all three of them. Suffice it to say, that within a few minutes' time the wretched and almost heart-broken Aubrey was a second time in custody, and at the suit of Tittlebat Titmouse, Esq., M. P., for the principal sum of ten thousand pounds, and interest for twelve months, at the rate of five pounds per centum per annum. The agonizing scene which ensued I shall leave entirely to the reader's imagination—observing only, that the two minions of the law into whose hands Aubrey had now fallen, seemed totally indifferent to the anguish they witnessed. The chief was a well-known sheriff's officer—one Vice; short, fat, bloated; deeply pitted with the small-pox; close-cut black hair, almost as coarse as that of a hog; while the expression of his features was at once callous and insolent. Aubrey perceived at a glance that he had no consideration or mercy to expect at the hands of such a man as this; and the follower very much resembled his master.