CHAPTER VI
THE INQUIRY
"Who is there?"
Henrietta lifted her tear-stained face from the pillow and awaited theanswer. Three hours earlier, her head aching, her heart full,uncertain what to do or what would follow, she had fled from thecommotion below, and, locking herself in her bedroom, had lain downwith her misery. It was something to find in the apathy of prostrationa brief respite; it was something to close her eyes and lie quitestill. For a while she might keep her door locked, might nurse herwretchedness, might evade rude looks and curious questions, mightpostpone decision.
For the pride that had sustained her in the morning had failed, as theday wore on. Solitude and the lack of food--she had refused to eat atmidday--had worn down her spirit. At last tears had come, andplentifully--and repentance. She did not say that the fault was herown, but she knew it, she admitted it. The man had behaved to herwickedly, treacherously, horribly; but she had brought it on herself.He had laid the snare in vain had she not stooped to deceit--had shenot consented to mislead her friends, to meet him secretly, to listento him with as little heed of propriety as if she had been Sue at theforge, or Bess in the still-room. Her own vanity, her own folly, hadbrought her to the very verge of ruin; and with shame she owned thatthere was more in the old saws with which her sister-in-law haddeafened her than her inexperience had imagined. But the discoverycame late. She was smirched. And what--what was she to do? Where couldshe go to avoid the full penalty--the taunts, the shame, the disgracethat awaited her in the old home?--even if the old home were stillopen to her.
Meanwhile she got no answer. And "Who is there?" she repeated wearily.
The reply came muffled through the door.
"You are wanted downstairs, lady."
She rose languidly. Perhaps the time was come. Perhaps her brother washere, had followed, traced, and found her. For the moment she was allbut indifferent. To-morrow she would suffer, and sorely; but to-dayshe had fallen too low. She went slowly to the door and opened it.
Ann stood in the passage.
"They want you downstairs, miss," she said.
The girl saw that the woman looked queerly at her, but she wasprepared for such looks. Unconsciously she had steeled herself to bearthem. "Very well," she returned, and did not ask who wanted her. Butshe went back to her table, dabbed her eyes with cold water, andsmoothed her hair and her neck-ribbon--she had pride enough for that.Then she went to the door. The woman was still outside, still staring.
"I did not know that you were waiting," Henrietta said, faintlysurprised. "I know my way down."
"I was to come with you, miss."
"Where are they, then?"
"They are where you were this morning," the woman answered. "This way,if you please."
Henrietta followed listlessly, and fancied in the sullenness of herapathy that she was proof against aught that could happen. But whenshe had descended the stairs and neared the door of Mr. Rogers'sroom--which was in a dusky passage--she found herself, to herastonishment, brushing past a row of people, who flattened themselvesagainst the wall to let her pass. Their eyes and their hardbreathing--perhaps because she was amongst them before she sawthem--impressed her so disagreeably that her heart fluttered, and shepaused. For an imperceptible instant she was on the point of turningand going back. But, fortunately, at that moment the door opened wide,Ann stood aside, and Mrs. Gilson showed herself. She beckoned to thegirl to enter.
"Come in, miss," she said gruffly, as Henrietta complied. "Here's somegentlemen want to ask you a question or two."
Henrietta saw two persons with their faces turned towards her seatedbehind a table, which bore ink and paper and one or two calf-boundbooks. Behind these were three or four other persons standing; andbeside the door close to her were as many more, also on their feet.But nowhere could she see the dreaded face of her brother, or, indeed,any face that she knew. And after advancing firmly enough into theroom, she stopped, and, turning, looked uncertainly at Mrs. Gilson.
"There must be some mistake," she murmured. "I have come into the----"
"Wrong room, miss?"--the speaker was Bishop, who was one of the threeor four who stood behind the two at the table. "No, there's nomistake, miss," he continued, with exaggerated cheerfulness. "It'sjust a formality. Only just a formality. These gentlemen wish to askyou one or two questions."
The colour rose to her cheeks.
"To ask me?" she repeated, with a slight ring of hauteur in her voice.
"Just so," Bishop answered. "It will be all right, I am sure. Butattend to this gentleman, if you please, and answer his questions."
He indicated with his finger the one seated before him.
The girl, half angry, half frightened, lowered her eyes and met thoseof the person at the table. Apparently her aspect had checked theexordium he had prepared; for instead of addressing her in the toneswhich were wont to fill the justice-room at Ambleside, Mr. Hornyold,rector and magistrate, sat back in his chair, and stared at her insilence. It was evident that his astonishment was great. He was aportly man, and tall, about forty years old, and, after his fashion,handsome. He had well-formed features and a mobile smile; but his facewas masterful--overmasterful, some thought; and his eyes were hard,when a sly look did not soften, without much improving, theirexpression. The girl before him was young, adorably fresh, above all,beautiful; and the smile of the man peeped from under the mask of thejustice. He stared at her, and she at him, and perhaps of the two hewas the more taken aback. At any rate, it was Henrietta who broke thesilence.
"I do not understand," she said, with ill-suppressed indignation, "whyI am here. Are you sure that there is no mistake?"
He found his voice then.
"Quite sure," he said drily. And he laid down the pen with which hehad been toying while he stared at her. He sat a little more erect inhis chair. "There is no mistake," he continued, "though for your sake,young woman, I wish I could think there was. I wish I could thinkthere was," he repeated in a more indulgent tone, "since you seem, atany rate, a more respectable person than I expected to see."
"Sir!"
The girl's eyes opened wide. Her face was scarlet.
He leaned forward.
"Come, my girl," he said--and his familiar tone struck her, as itwere, in the face,--never had such a tone been used to her before!"Let us have no nonsense. You will not improve your case that way. Letme tell you, we are accustomed to all sorts here. You must speak whenyou are told to speak, and be silent when you are bid, and in themeantime listen to me! Listen to me, I say!" staying by an imperiousnod the angry remonstrance that was on her lips. "And remember whereyou are, if you wish to be well treated. If you are sensible and tellthe truth, some other course will be found than that which, it is tobe feared, must end this business."
"But by what right," Henrietta cried, striving to command both herrage and her fear--"by what right----"
"Am I about to question you?"--with a smirk of humour and a glance atthe audience. "By the right of the law, young woman, which I wouldhave you know is of some account here, however it may stand inLancashire."
"The law?" she stammered. And she looked round terrified. "Why? Why?What have I done?" she cried pathetically.
For a moment all was dark before her.
He laughed slyly.
"That's to be seen," he said. "No hanging matter," he continuedhumorously, "I hope. And as it's good law that everybody'sinnocent--that's so, Mr. Dobbie, is it not?"--he addressed theclerk--"until he's found to be guilty, let somebody set the youngwoman a chair."
"I can stand!" she cried.
"Nay, you sit down!" muttered a gruff voice in her ear. And a hand--itwas Mrs. Gilson's--pressed her down in the chair. "And you answerstraight out," the woman continued coolly, in defiance of thescandalised look which Mr. Dobbie, the clerk, cast upon her, "andthere's not one of 'em can do you any harm."
The magistrate nodded.
"That's true,"
he said tolerantly, "always supposing that you've doneno wrong, my girl--no wrong beyond getting into bad company, as Itrust will turn out to be the case. Now, Mr. Dobbie, take down heranswers. What's your name, my girl, first?"
Henrietta looked at him steadily; she was trying to place herself inthese new conditions. Something like composure was coming back to herflushed and frightened face. She reflected; and having reflected, shewas silent.
He fancied that she had not heard, or did not understand.
"Your name, young woman," he repeated, "and your last place of abode?Speak up! And don't be afraid."
But she did not answer.
He frowned.
"Come, come," he said. "Did you hear me? Where is your home, and whatdo you call yourself? You are not the man's wife, I know. We know asmuch as that, you see, so you may as well be frank."
"What is the charge against me?" She spoke slowly, and her face wasnow set and stubborn. "Of what am I accused?"
Mr. Hornyold's face turned a brick red. He did not rule three parishesthrough three curates, reserving to himself only the disciplinarypowers he was now exercising, to be thwarted by a run-the-countrygirl; who, in spite of her looks, was, ten to one, no better than theimprudent wenches the overseers were continually bringing before him.He knew at least the company she kept. He raised his voice.
"I am not here to answer your questions!" he said, bending his brows."But you mine! You mine!" he repeated, rapping the table sharply. "Doyou hear? Now, you will at once tell me----"
He broke off. The clerk had touched his sleeve and was whispering inhis ear. He frowned impatiently, but listened. And after a moment heshrugged his shoulders.
"Very well," he said. "Tell her!"
The clerk, a shabby man with a scratch wig and a little glassink-bottle at his buttonhole, raised his eyes, and looking at her overhis glasses, spoke:
"You are not yet charged," he said; "but if you cannot give asatisfactory account of yourself you will be charged with receiving,harbouring, and assisting one William Walterson the younger, otherwiseStewart, otherwise Malins, against whom indictments for variousfelonies and treason felonies have been found. And with aiding andabetting the escape of the said William Walterson, in whose companyyou have been found. And with being accessory after the fact tovarious felonies----"
"To murder!" said Mr. Hornyold, cutting him short emphatically. "Tomurder! amongst other things. That is the charge, if you must know it.So now"--he rapped the table sharply--"answer at once, and the truth.What is your name? And where was your last place of abode?"
But Henrietta, if she were willing to answer, could not. At the soundof that dreadful word "murder!"--they hanged lightly, so lightly inthose days!--the colour had fled from her face. The darkness that hadconfused her a while before hid all. She kept her seat, she evenretained her erect posture; but the hands which she raised before heras if to ward off something groped idly in the air.
Murder! No wonder that she lost consciousness for a moment, or thatHornyold, secretly relishing her beauty, thought that he had found theweapon that would soon bring her to her knees! or that the littleaudience by the door, listening awestruck, held their breath. Thewonder was that only one of them judged from the girl's gesture thatshe was fainting. Only one acted. Mrs. Gilson stepped forward andshook her roughly by the shoulder.
"Words break no bones!" the landlady said without ceremony--and notwithout an angry look at the clerk, who raised his pen as if he wouldinterpose. "Don't you make a fool of yourself. But do you tell themwhat they want to know. And your friends will settle with them.Murder, indeed! Pack of boddles!"
"Very good advice," said the magistrate, smiling indulgently."But----"
"But you must not interfere!" snapped the clerk--who kept the books ofthe Salutation in Ambleside and not of the Low Wood Inn.
"Haven't you sense to see the girl is fainting?" the landlady repliedwrathfully.
"Oh, well----"
"I am better now," Henrietta said bravely. And she drew a deep breath.A little colour--induced perhaps by Hornyold's unsparing gaze--wascoming back to her cheeks. "Would you--can I have a glass of water?"she murmured.
Mrs. Gilson was bustling to the door to give the order when it opened,and Mr. Bishop, who had gone to it a moment before, took in a glass ofwine, and, secretly pleased that he had anticipated the need, handedit to her. Mrs. Gilson took it with a grunt of distrust, and made thegirl swallow it; while the magistrate waited and watched, and thoughtthat he had never seen a young woman who was so handsome, pale or red,fainting or fierce. And so fresh! so admirably, astonishingly freshfor the companion of such a man. A good many thoughts of various kindsflitted through his mind as he watched her, marking now the luxurianceof her fair hair, now the white chin, small but firm, and now thefaint, faint freckles that, like clots in cream, only added to thedelicacy of her complexion. He waited without impatience until thegirl had drunk the wine, and when he spoke it was in a toneapproaching the paternal.
"Now, my dear," he said, "you are going to be a good girl andsensible, I am sure. We don't want to send you to prison to herd withpeople with whom, to judge from your appearance, you have not beenwont to mix. And therefore we give you this opportunity--there's noneed we should, you know--of telling us who you are, and whence youcome, and what you know; that if it appears that you have fallen intothis man's company in ignorance, and not knowing what manner of man hewas, we may prevent this charge appearing, and instead of committingyou to Appleby, place you here or elsewhere under bond to appear.Which, in a case so serious as this, is not a course we could adoptwere you not so very young, and," with a humorous look at the group bythe door, "so very good-looking! So now be a good girl and don't beafraid, but tell me at once who you are, and where you joined thisman."
"If I do not," Henrietta said, looking at him with clear eyes, "must Igo to prison?"
"Appleby gaol," said the clerk, glancing over his glasses.
"Then you must send me there," she replied, a little faintly. "For Icannot tell you."
"Don't be a fool!" growled Mrs. Gilson in her ear.
"I cannot tell you," Henrietta repeated more firmly.
Mr. Hornyold stared. He was growing angry, for he was not accustomedto be set at naught. After their fashion they all stared.
"Come, come, my dear," the runner remonstrated smoothly. "If you don'ttell us, we shall think there's more behind."
She did not answer.
"And that being so, it's only a matter of time to learn what it is,"the runner continued cunningly. "Tell us now and save time, because weare sure to get to know. Young women as pretty as you are not hard totrace."
But she shook her head. And the face Bishop called pretty wasstubborn. The group by the door, marking for future gossip everyparticular of her appearance, the stuff of her riding-habit, thefineness of her linen, the set of her head, made certain that she wasno common trollope. They wondered what would happen to her, and hoped,the more tender-hearted, that there would be no scene, and nohysterics to end it.
The clerk raised his pen in the air. "Understand," he said, "you willbe remanded to Appleby gaol--it's no very comfortable place, I cantell you--and later, you will be brought up again and committed, I'vevery little doubt, to take your trial on these charges. If theprincipal offender be taken, as he is likely to be taken before theday is out, you'll be tried with him. But it is not necessary. Now doyou understand?" he continued, speaking slowly. "And are you stilldetermined to give no evidence--showing how you came to be with thisman?"
Henrietta's eyes were full of trouble. She shivered.
"Where shall I be tried?" she muttered in an unsteady voice.
"Appleby," the clerk said curtly. "Or in His Majesty's Bench atWestminster! Now think, before it is too late."
"It is too late," she answered in a low tone, "I cannot help it now."
The magistrate leant forward. What a fool the girl was! If she went toAppleby he would see no more of her, save for an hour or two when shewas br
ought up again before being committed. Whereas, if she spoke andthey made her a witness, she might be lodged somewhere in theneighbourhood under surveillance. And she was so handsome and soyoung--the little fool!--he would not be sorry to see more of her.
"I give you a last chance," he said.]
"I give you a last chance," he said.
She shook her head.
The magistrate shrugged his shoulders.
"Then make the committal out!" he said. "There's enough to justifyit." It was some satisfaction to think that locked up with half adozen sluts at Appleby she would soon be sorry for herself. "Make itout!" he repeated.
If the hysterics did not come now he was very much mistaken if theydid not come later, when the gaol doors were shut on her. She wasevidently of respectable condition; a curate's daughter, perhaps,figged out by the man who had deceived her, or a lady's lady, spoiledby. her mistress, and taught ideas above her station. On such, thegaol, with its company and its hardships, fell severely. It wouldsoon, he fancied, bring her to her senses.
The clerk dipped his pen in the ink, and after casting a last glanceat the girl to see if she would still yield, began to write. Shewatched him with fascinated eyes, watched him in a kind of stupor. Thethought throbbed loudly and more loudly in her head, "What will becomeof me? What will become of me?" Meanwhile the silence was broken onlyby the squeaking of the pen and a single angry "Lord's sakes!" whichfell from the landlady. The others awaited the end with whatever ofpity, or interest, or greedy excitement came natural to them. Theywere within, and others were without; and they had a delicious senseof privilege. They would have much to tell: For one does not every daysee a pretty girl, young, and tenderly nurtured, as this girl seemedto be, and a lady to the eye, committed to the common gaol on a chargeof murder--murder, and treason felony, was it, they called it? Treasonfelony! That meant hanging, drawing, and quartering. Lord's sakes,indeed; poor thing, how would she bear it? And though it is likelythat some among them--Mrs. Gilson for one--didn't think it would cometo this, there was a frown on the landlady's brow that would have donehonour to the Lord Chancellor Eldon himself.
Starvecrow Farm Page 8
