A Terrible Temptation: A Story of To-Day
and his secret conviction that Sir Charles was unsound of mind,
combined to paralyze him; and, not being a man of invention, he could
not see his way out of the wood at all; he could negative Mr. Angelo's
suggestions and give good reasons, but he could not, or did not,
suggest anything better to be done.
Lady Bassett listened to his negative wisdom with a bitter smile, and
said, at last, with a sigh: “It seems, then, we are to sit quiet and do
nothing, while Mr. Bassett and his solicitor strike blow upon blow.
There! I'll fight my own battle; and do you try and find some way of
defending the poor souls that are in trouble because they did not sit
with their hands before them when their benefactor was outraged.
Command my purse, if money will save them from prison.”
Then she rose with dignity, and walked like a camelopard all down the
room on the side opposite to Mr. Oldfield. Angelo flew to open the
door, and in a whisper begged a word with her in private. She bowed
ascent, and passed on from the room.
“What a fine creature!” said Mr. Oldfield. “How she walks!”
Mr. Angelo made no reply to this, but asked him what was to be done for
the poor men: “they will be up before the Bench to-morrow.”
Stung a little by Lady Bassett's remark, Mr. Oldfield answered,
promptly, “We must get some tradesmen to bail them with our money. It
will only be a few pounds apiece. If the bail is accepted, they shall
offer pecuniary compensation, and get up a defense; find somebody to
swear Sir Charles was sane--that sort of evidence is always to be got.
Counsel must do the rest. Simple natives--benefactor outraged--honest
impulse--regretted, the moment they understood the capture had been
legally made. Then throw dirt on the plaintiff. He is malicious, and
can be proved to have forsworn himself in Bassett _v._ Bassett.”
A tap at the door, and Mary Wells put in her head. “If you please, sir,
my lady is tired, and she wishes to say a word to you before she goes
upstairs.”
“Excuse me one minute,” said Mr. Angelo, and followed Mary Wells. She
ushered him into a boudoir, where he found Lady Bassett seated in an
armchair, with her head on her hand, and her eyes fixed sadly on the
carpet.
She smiled faintly, and said, “Well, what do you wish to say to me?”
“It is about Mr. Oldfield. He is clearly incompetent.”
“I don't know. I snubbed him, poor man: but if the law is all against
us!”
“How does he know that? He assumes it because he is prejudiced in favor
of the enemy. How does he _know_ they have done _everything_ the Act of
Parliament requires? And, if they have, Law is not invincible. When Law
defies Morality, it gets baffled, and trampled on in all civilized
communities.”
“I never heard that before.”
“But you would if you had been at Oxford,” said he, smiling.
“Ah!”
“What we want is a man of genius, of invention; a man who will see
every chance, take every chance, lawful or unlawful, and fight with all
manner of weapons.”
Lady Bassett's eye flashed a moment. “Ah!” said she; “but where can I
find such a man, with knowledge to guide his zeal?”
“I think I know of a man who could at all events advise you, if you
would ask him.”
“Ah! Who?”
“He is a writer; and opinions vary as to his merit. Some say he has
talent; others say it is all eccentricity and affectation. One thing is
certain--his books bring about the changes he demands. And then he is
in earnest; he has taken a good many alleged lunatics out of
confinement.”
“Is it possible? Then let us apply to him at once.”
“He lives in London; but I have a friend who knows him. May I send an
outline to him through that friend, and ask him whether he can advise
you in the matter?”
“You may; and thank you a thousand times!”
“A mind like that, with knowledge, zeal, and invention, must surely
throw some light.”
“One would think so, dear friend.”
“I'll write to-night and send a letter to Greatrex; we shall perhaps
get an answer the day after to-morrow.”
“Ah! you are not the one to go to sleep in the service of a friend. A
writer, did you say? What does he write?”
“Fiction.”
“What, novels?”
“And dramas and all.”
Lady Bassett sighed incredulously. “I should never think of going to
Fiction for wisdom.”
“When the Family Calas were about to be executed unjustly, with the
consent of all the lawyers and statesmen in France, one man in a nation
saw the error, and fought for the innocent, and saved them; and that
one wise man in a nation of fools was a writer of fiction.”
“Oh! a learned Oxonian can always answer a poor ignorant thing like me.
One swallow does not make summer, for all that.”
“But this writer's fictions are not like the novels you read; they are
works of laborious research. Besides, he is a lawyer, as well as a
novelist.”
“Oh, if he is a lawyer!”
“Then I may write?”
“Yes,” said Lady Bassett, despondingly.
“What is to become of Oldfield?”
“Send him to the drawing-room. I will go down and endure him for
another hour. You can write your letter here, and then please come and
relieve me of Mr. Negative.”
She rang, and ordered coffee and tea into the drawing-room; and Mr.
Oldfield found her very cold company.
In half an hour Mr. Angelo came down, looking flushed and very
handsome; and Lady Bassett had some fresh tea made for him.
This done she bade the gentlemen goodnight, and went to her room. Here
she found Mary Wells full of curiosity to know whether the lawyer would
get Sir Charles out of the asylum.
Lady Bassett gave loose to her indignation, and said nothing was to be
expected from such a Nullity. “Mary, he could not see. I gave him every
opportunity. I walked slowly down the room before him after dinner; and
I came into the drawing-room and moved about, and yet he could not
see.”
“Then you will have to tell him, that is all.”
“Never; no more shall you. I'll not trust my fate, and Sir Charles's,
to a man that has no eyes.”
For this feminine reason she took a spite against poor Oldfield; but to
Mr. Angelo she suppressed the real reason, and entered into that ardent
gentleman's grounds of discontent, though these alone would not have
entirely dissolved her respect for the family solicitor.
Next afternoon Angelo came to her in great distress and ire. “Beaten!
beaten! and all through our adversaries having more talent. Mr. Bassett
did not appear at first. Wheeler excused him on the ground that his
wife was seriously ill through the fright. Bassett's servants were
called, and swore to the damage and to the men, all but one. He got
off. Then Oldfield made a dry speech; and a tradesman he had prepared
offered bail. The magistrates were consulting, when in burst Mr.
Bassett all in black, and made a speech fifty times stronger than
Oldfield's, and sobbed, and told them the rioters had frightened his
wife so she had been prematurely confined, and the child was dead.
Could they take bail for a riot, a dastardly attack by a mob of cowards
on a poor defenseless woman, the gentlest and most inoffensive creature
in England? Then he went on: 'They were told I was not in the house;
and then they found courage to fling stones, to terrify my wife and
kill my child. Poor soul!' he said, 'she lies between life and death
herself: and I come here in an agony of fear, but I come for justice;
the man of straw, who offers bail, is furnished with the money by those
who stimulated the outrage. Defeat that fraud, and teach these cowards
who war on defenseless ladies that there is humanity and justice and
law in the land.' Then Oldfield tried to answer him with his hems and
his haws; but Bassett turned on him like a giant, and swept him away.”
“Poor woman!”
“Ah! that is true: I am afraid I have thought too little of her. But
you suffer, and so must she. It is the most terrible feud; one would
think this was Corsica instead of England, only the fighting is not
done with daggers. But, after this, pray lean no more on that Oldfield.
We were all carried away at first; but, now I think of it, Bassett must
have been in the court, and held back to make the climax. Oh, yes! it
was another surprise and another success. They are all sent to jail.
Superior generalship! If Wheeler had been our man, we should have had
eight wives crying for pity, each with one child in her arms, and
another holding on to her apron. Do, pray, Lady Bassett, dismiss that
Nullity.”
“Oh, I cannot do that; he is Sir Charles's lawyer; but I have promised
you to seek advice elsewhere, and so I will.”
The conversation was interrupted by the tolling of the church-bell.
The first note startled Lady Bassett, and she turned pale.
“I must leave you,” said Angelo, regretfully. “I have to bury Mr.
Bassett's little boy; he lived an hour.”
Lady Bassett sat and heard the bell toll.
Strange, sad thoughts passed through her mind. “Is it saddest when it
tolls, or when it rings--that bell? He has killed his own child by
robbing me of my husband. We are in the hands of God, after all, let
Wheeler be ever so cunning, and Oldfield ever so simple.--And I am not
acting by that.--Where is my trust in God's justice?--Oh, thou of
little faith!--What shall I do? Love is stronger in me than
faith--stronger than anything in heaven or earth. God forgive me--God
help me--I will go back.
“But oh, to stand still, and be good and simple, and to see my husband
trampled on by a cunning villain!
“Why is there a future state, where everything is to be different? no
hate; no injustice; all love. Why is it not all of a piece? Why begin
wrong if it is to end all right? If I was omnipotent it should be right
from the first.--Oh, thou of little faith!--Ah, me! it is hard to see
fools and devils, and realize angels unseen. Oh, that I could shut my
eyes in faith and go to sleep, and drift on the right path; for I shall
never take it with my eyes open, and my heart bleeding for him.”
Then her head fell languidly back, her eyes closed, and the tears
welled through them: they knew the way by this time.
CHAPTER XXII.
NEXT morning in came Mr. Angelo, with glowing cheeks and sparkling
eyes.
“I have got a letter, a most gratifying one. My friend called on Mr.
Rolfe, and gave him my lines; and he replies direct to me. May I read
you his letter?”
“Oh, yes.”
“'DEAR SIR--The case you have sent me, of a gentleman confined on
certificates by order of an interested relative--as you presume, for
you have not seen the order--and on grounds you think insufficient, is
interesting, and some of it looks true; but there are gaps in the
statement, and I dare not advise in so nice a matter till these are
filled; but that, I suspect, can only be done by the lady herself. She
had better call on me in person; it may be worth her while. At home
every day, 10--3, this week. As for yourself, you need not address me
through Greatrex. I have seen you pull No. 6, and afterward stroke in
the University boat, and you dived in Portsmouth Harbor, and saved a
sailor. See “Ryde Journal,” Aug. 10, p. 4, col. 3; cited in my Day-book
Aug. 10, and also in my Index hominum, in voce “Angelo”--_ha! ha!
here's a fellow for detail!_
“Yours very truly,
“'ROLFE.'”
“And did you?”
“Did I what?”
“Dive and save a sailor.”
“No; I nailed him just as he was sinking.”
“How good and brave you are!”
Angelo blushed like a girl. “It makes me too happy to hear such words
from you. But I vote we don't talk about me. Will you call on Mr.
Rolfe?”
“Is he married?”
Angelo opened his eyes at the question. “I think not,” said he.
“Indeed, I know he is not.”
“Could you get him down here?”
Angelo shook his head. “If he knew you, perhaps; but can you expect him
to come here upon your business? These popular writers are spoiled by