Through The Fray: A Tale Of The Luddite Riots

by G. A. Henty

  Mr. Porson saw that in Ned's present state it was useless to talk to him. Two nights without sleep, together with the intense excitement he had gone through, had worked his brain to such a state of tension that he was not responsible for what he was saying. Further conversation would do him harm rather than good. What

  he required was rest and, if possible, sleep. Mr. Porson therefore only said quietly:

  "We will not talk about it now, Ned; your brain is over-excited with all you have gone through. What you want now is rest and sleep."

  " I don't feel sleepy, Mr. Porson. I don't feel as if I should ever get to sleep again. I don't look like it, do I?" " No, Ned, I don't think you do at present; but I wish you did, my boy. Well, remember that we, your old friends, all believe you innocent of this thing, and that we will spare no pains to prove it to the world. I see," he said, looking at the table, " that you have not touched your breakfast. I am not surprised that you could not eat it. I will see that you have a cup of really good tea sent you in."

  " No," Ned said with a laugh which it pained Mr. Porson to hear, " I have not eaten since I had tea at home. It was only the day before yesterday, but it seems a year." On leaving the cell Mr. Porson went to Dr. Green, who lived only three or four doors away, told him of the state in which he had found Ned, and bego-ed him to give him a strong and, as far as possible, a tasteless sedative, and to put it in a cup of tea.

  " Yes, that will be the best thing," the doctor replied. " I had better not go and see him, for talking will do him harm rather than good. We shall be having him on our hands with brain-fever if this goes on. I will go round with the tea myself to the head constable and tell him that no one must on any account be permitted to see

  Ned, and that rest and quiet are absolutely necessary for him. I will put a strong dose of opium into the tea."

  Ten minutes later Dr. Green called upon the chief constable and told him that he feared from what he had heard from Mr. Porson that Ned was in a very critical state, and that unless he got rest and sleep he would probably have an attack of brain-fever, even if his mind did not give way altogether,

  " I was intending to have him removed at once," the officer said, "to a comfortable room at my own house. He was only placed where he is temporarily. I exchanged a few words with him after the examination and was struck myself with the strangeness of his tone. Won't you see him?"

  " I think that any talk is bad for him," the doctor said. " I have put a strong dose of opium in this tea, and I hope it will send him off to sleep. When he recovers I will see him."

  " I think, doctor," the constable said significantly, " it would be a good thing if you were to see him at once. You see, if things go against him, and between ourselves the case is a very ugly one, if you could get in the box and say that you saw him here, and that, in your opinion, his mind was shaken, and that as likely as not he had not been responsible for his actions from the time he left his mother's house, it might save his life."

  " That is a capital idea," Dr. Green said, " and Porsons evidence would back mine. Yes, I will go in and see him even if my visit does do him harm."

  " I will move him into his new quarters first," the officer said; " then if he drinks the tea he may, if he feels sleepy, throw himself on the bed and go off. He will be quiet and undisturbed there."

  Two or three minutes later the doctor was shown into a comfortable room. A fire was burning brightly, and the tea was placed on a little tray with a new roll and a pat of butter.

  Ned's mood had somewhat changed. He received the doctor with a boisterous laugh.

  " How are you, doctor ? Here I am, you see, monarch of all I survey. This is the first time you have visited me in a room which I could consider entirely my own. Not a bad place either."

  " I hope you will not be here long, Ned," Dr. Green said, humouring him. " We shall all do our best to get you out as soon as we can."

  " I don't think your trying will be of much use, doctor; but what's the odds as long as you are happy!"

  " That's right, my boy, nothing like looking at matters cheerfully. You know, lad, how warmly all your old friends are with you. Would you like me to bring Charlie next time I come?"

  " No, no, doctor," Ned said almost with a cry. " No. I have thought it over, and Charlie must not see me. It will do him harm and I shall break down. I shall have to see him at the trial—of course he must be there—that will be bad enough."

  "Very well," the doctor said quietly, "just as you like,

  Ned. I shall be seeing you every day, and will give him news of you. I am going to see him now."

  " Tell him I am well and comfortable and jolly," Ned said recklessly.

  " I will tell him you are comfortable, Ned, and I should like to tell him that you had eaten your breakfast."

  "Oh, yes! Tell him that. Say I ate it voraciously." And he swallowed down the cup of tea and took a bite at the roll.

  " I will tell him," Dr. Green said. " I will come in again this evening, and will perhaps bring in with me a little medicine. You will be all the better for a soothing draught."

  "I want no draughts," Ned said. "Why should I? I am as right as ninepence."

  '' Very well. We will see," the doctor said. " Now I must be going my rounds."

  As soon as he had gone Ned began pacing up and down the room, as he had done the whole of the past night without intermission. Gradually, however, the powerful narcotic began to take effect. His walk became slower, his head began to droop, and at last he stumbled towards the bed in the corner of the room, threw himself heavily down, and was almost instantly sound asleep. Five minutes later the door opened quietly and Dr Green entered.

  He had been listening outside the door, had noticed the change in the character of Ned's walk, and having heard the fall upon the bed, and had no fear of his rousing him-

  self at his entrance. The boy was lying across the bed, and the doctor, who was a powerful man, lifted him gently and laid him with his head upon the pillow. He felt his pulse, and lifted his eyelid.

  " It was a strong dose," he said to himself, " far stronger than I should have dared give him at any other time, but nothing less would have acted, with his brain in such an excited state. I must keep in the town to-day and look in from time to time and see how he is going on. It may be that I shall have to take steps to rouse him."

  At the next visit Dr. Green looked somewhat anxious as he listened to the boy's breathing and saw how strongly he was under the influence of the narcotic. " Under any other circumstances," he said to the chief constable, who had entered the room with him, " I should take strong measures to arouse him at once, but as it is I will risk it. I know it is a risk both for him and me, for a nice scrape I should get in if he slipped through my fingers; but unless he gets sleep I believe his brain will go, and anything is better than that."

  " Yes, poor lad," the officer said. " When I look at his face I confess my sympathies are all with him rather than with the man he killed."

  " I don't think he killed him," the doctor said quietly. " I am almost sure he didn't."

  "You don't say so!" the chief constable said, surprised. " I had not the least doubt about it."

  " No. Nobody seems to have the least doubt about it," the doctor said bitterly. " I am almost sure that he had

  nothing to do with it; but if he did it it was when he was in a state of such passion that he was practically irresponsible for his actions. At any rate, I am prepared to swear that his mind is unhinged at present. I will go back now and fetch two or three books and will then sit by him. He needs watching."

  For several hours the doctor sat reading by Ned's bedside. From time to time he leant over the lad, listened to his breathing, felt his pulse, and occasionally lifted his eyelid. After one of these examinations, late in the afternoon, he rose with a sigh of relief, pulled down the blind, gently drew the curtains, and then, taking his books, went down and noiselessly closed the door after him.

  "Thank God! he will do now," he s
aid to the chief constable; "but it has been a very near squeak, and I thought several times I should have to take immediate steps to wake him. However, the effects are passing off, and he will soon be in a natural sleep. Pray let the house be kept as quiet as possible, and let no one go near him. The chances are he will sleep quietly till morning."

  The doctor called again the last thing that evening, but was told that no stir had been heard in Ned's room, and the same report met him when he came again next morning.

  " That is capital," he said. " Let him sleep on. He has a long arrears to make up. I shall not be going out today; please send in directly he wakes."

  " Very well," the officer replied. " I will put a man outside his door, and the moment a move is heard I will let you know."

  CHAPTER XIV.

  COMMITTED FOR TRIAL.

  T was not until after mid-day that the message arrived, and Dr. Green at once went in. Ned was sitting on the side of the bed, a constable having come off with the message as soon as he heard him make the first move.

  "Well, Ned, how are you now?" Dr. Green asked cheerfully as he went to the window and drew back the curtains. " Had a good sleep, my boy, and feel all the better for it, I hope."

  " Yes, I think I have been asleep," Ned said in a far more natural voice than that of the previous day. " How did the curtains get drawn?"

  " I drew them, Ned. I looked in in the afternoon, and found you fast asleep, so I darkened the room." "Why, what time is it now?" Ned asked. :< Half-past twelve, Ned." "Half-past twelve! Why, how can that be?" " Why, my boy, you have had twenty-two hours' sleep."

  Ned gave an exclamation of astonishment.

  "You had two nights' arrears to make up for, and Nature is not to be outraged in that way with impunity. I am very thankful that you had a good night, for I was really anxious about you yesterday."

  " I feel rather heavy and stupid now," Ned said, " but I am all the better for my sleep. Let me think," he began, looking round the room, for up till now remembrance of the past had not come back again, " what am I doing here? Oh! I remember now."

  " You are here, my boy, on a charge of which I have no doubt we shall prove you innocent. Of course Porson and I and all your friends know you are innocent, but we have got to prove it to the world, and we shall want all your wits to help us. But we needn't talk about that now. The first thing for you to do is to put your head in a basin of water. By the time you have had a good wash your breakfast will be here. I told my old cook to prepare it when I came out, and as you are a favourite of hers I have no doubt it will be a good one. After you have discussed that we can talk matters over. I sent my boy down to the school just now to ask Porson to come up here in half an hour. Then we three can lay our heads together and see what are the best steps to take."

  " Let me see," Ned said thoughtfully " Was I dreaming, or have I seen Mr. Porson since I came here?"

  "You are not dreaming, Ned; but the fact is, you were not quite yourself yesterday. The excitement you had gone through had been too much for you."

  " It all seems a dream to me," Ned said in a hopeless tone, " a confused, muddled sort of dream."

  "Don't think about it now, Ned," the doctor said cheerfully, " but get off your things at once, and set to and sluice your head well with water. I will be back in a quarter of an hour with the breakfast."

  At the end of that time the doctor returned, his boy carrying a tray. The constable on duty took it from him, and would have carried it into Ned's room, but the doctor said:

  " Give it me, Walker. I will take it in myself. I don't want him to see any of you just at present. His head's in a queer state, and the less he is impressed with the fact that he is in charge the better."

  Dr. Green found Ned looking all the better for his wash. The swelling of his face had now somewhat abated, but the bruises were showing out in darker colours than before; still he looked fresher and better.

  " Here is your breakfast, Ned, and if you don't enjoy it Jane will be terribly disappointed."

  " I shall enjoy it, doctor. I feel very weak; but I do think I am hungry."

  " You ought to be, Ned, seeing that you have eaten nothing for two days."

  The doctor removed the cloth which covered the tray. The meal consisted of three kidneys and two eggs, and a great pile of buttered toast. The steam curled out of the spout of a dainty china teapot, and there was a small jug brimful of cream.

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  The tears came into Ned's eyes.

  "Oh! how good you are, doctor!"

  "Nonsense, good!" the doctor said; "come, eat away, that wiil be the best thanks to Jane and me."

  Ned needed no pressing. He ate languidly at first; but his appetite came as he went on, and he drank cup after cup of the fragrant tea, thick with cream. With the exception of one egg, he cleared the tray.

  "There, doctor!" he said, as he pushed back his chair; "if you are as satisfied as I am you must be contented indeed."

  "I am, Ned; that meal has done us both a world of good. Ah! here is Porson, just arrived at the right moment."

  "How are you, Ned?" the master asked heartily.

  " I am quite well, sir, thank you. Sleep and the doctor, and the doctor's cook, have done wonders for me. I hear you came yesterday, sir, but I don't seem to remember much about it."

  "Yes, I was here, Ned," Mr. Porson said, "but you were pretty well stupid from want of sleep. However, I am glad to see you quite yourself again this morning."

  "And now," the doctor said, "we three must put our heads together and see what is to be done. You understand, Ned, how matters stand, don't you?"

  "Yes, sir," Ned said after a pause; "I seem to know that someone said that Mr. Mulready was dead, and someone thought that I had killed him, and then I started to come over to give myself up. Oh! yes, I remember that,

  and then there was an examination before the magistrates. I remember it all; but it seems just as if it had been a dream."

  "Yes, that is what happened, Ned, and naturally it seems a dream to you, because you were so completely overcome by excitement and want of food and sleep that you were scarcely conscious of what was passing. Now we want you to think over quietly, as well as you can, what you did when you left home."

  Ned sat for a long time without speaking. "It seems all confused," he said at last. "I don't even remember going out of the house. I can remember his striking me in the face again and again, and then I heard my mother scream, and everything seems to have become misty. But I know I was walking about; I know that I was worrying to get at him, and that if I had met him I should have attacked him, and if I had had anything in my hand I should have killed him."

  "But you don't remember doing anything, Ned? You cannot recall that you went anywhere and got a rope and fastened it across the road with the idea of upsetting his gig on the way back from the mill?"

  " No, sir," Ned said decidedly; " I can't recollect anything of that at all. I am quite sure if I had done that I should remember it; for I seem to remember, now I think of it, a good deal of what I did. Yes, I went up through Varley; the lights weren't out, and I wondered what Bill would say if I were to knock at his door and he opened it and saw what a state my face was in. Then

  I went out on the moor, and it seems to me that I walked about for hours, and the longer I walked the more angry I was. At last—it could not have been long before morning, I think—I lay down for a time, and then when it was light I made up my mind to go over and see Abijah. I knew she would be with me. That's all I remember about it. Does my mother think I did it?"

  Dr. Green hesitated a moment.

  " Your mother is not in a state to think one way or the other, Ned; she is in such a state of grief that she hardly knows what she is saying or doing."

  In fact Mrs. Mulready entertained no doubt whatever upon the subject, and had continued to speak of Ned's wickedness until Dr. Green that morning had lost all patience with her, and told her she ought to be ashamed of herself to be the first to accuse
her son, and that if he was hung she would only have herself to blame for it.

  Ned guessed by the doctor's answer that his mother was against him.

  "It is curious," he said, "she did not take on so after my father's death, and he was always kind and good to her, while this man was just the reverse."

  " There's never any understanding women," Dr. Green said testily, "and your mother is a singularly inconsequent and weak specimen of her sex. Well, Ned, and so that is all you can tell us about the way you passed that unfortunate evening. What a pity it is, to be sure, that you did not rouse up your friend Bill. His evidence would probably have cleared you at once. As it is, of course we

  believe your story, my boy. The question is, will the jury believe it?"

  " I don't seem to care much whether they do or not," Ned said sadly, "unless we find the man who did it. Every one will think me guilty even if I am acquitted. Fancy going on living all one's life and knowing that everyone one meets is thinking to himself, 'That is the man who killed his stepfather'—it would be better to be hung at once."

  " You must look at it in a more hopeful way than that, Ned," Mr. Porson said kindly; "many will from the first believe, with us, that you are innocent. You will live it down, my boy, and sooner or later we may hope and believe that God will suffer the truth to be known. At the worst, you know you need not go on living here. The world is wide, and you can go where your story is unknown.

  " Do not look on the darkest side of things. And now, for the present, I have brought you down a packet of books. If I were you I would try to read—anything is better than going on thinking. You will want all your wits about you, and the less you worry your mind the better. Mr. Wakefield will represent you at the examination next week; but I do not see that there will be much for him to do, as I fear there is little doubt that you will be committed for trial, when of course we shall get the best legal assistance for you. I will tell him exactly what you have said to me, and he can then come and see you or not as he likes. I shall come in every clay. I have already