Page:Once a Week, Series 1, Volume II Dec 1859 to June 1860.pdf/283

270 chance of our catching her now. She’s a-bed and asleep, if she’s not a naughty girl.”

“She went on to Beckley, you said?”

Jack dealt him a slap.

“Are you going to the Bar?”

“I only wanted to know,” Evan observed, meditatively progressing.

He was sure that the young lady Jack had met was his own Rose, and if Jack thought himself an unlucky fellow, Evan’s opinion of him was very different.

“Did you notice her complexion?”

This remark, feebly uttered after a profound stillness caused Jack to explode.

“Who called you Amadis, Harrington? I met a girl on horseback, I tell you a word or two she says, and you can’t be quiet about her. Why, she was only passably pretty—talked more like a boy than a girl—opened her mouth wide when she spoke—rather jolly teeth.”

Mr. Raikes had now said enough to paint Rose accurately to the lover’s mind, and bring contempt on his personal judgment. Nursing the fresh image of his darling in his heart’s recesses, Evan, as they entered Fallowfield, laid the state of his purse before Jack, and earned anew the epithet of Amadis when it came to be told that the occupant of the waggon was likewise one of its pensioners.

Sleep had long held its reign in Fallowfield. Nevertheless, Mr. Raikes, though blind windows alone looked on him, and nought foreign was to be imputed to him in the matter of pride, had become exceedingly solicitous concerning his presentation to the inhabitants of that quiet little country town; and while Evan and the waggoner consulted—the former with regard to the chances of procuring beds and supper, the latter as to his prospect of beer and a comfortable riddance of the feminine burden weighing on them all, Mr. Raikes was engaged in persuading his hat to assume something of the gentlemanly polish of its youth, and might have been observed now and then furtively catching up a leg to be dusted. Ere the wheels of the waggon stopped he had gained that easiness of mind which the knowledge that you have done all that man may do and circumstances warrant, establishes. Capacities conscious of their limits may repose even proudly when they reach them; and, if Mr. Raikes had not quite the air of one come out of a bandbox, he at least proved to the discerning intelligence that he knew what sort of manner befitted that happy occasion, and was enabled by the pains he had taken to glance with a cheerful challenge at the sign of the hostelry, under which they were now ranked, and from which, though the hour was late, and Fallowfield a singularly somnolent little town, there issued signs of life approaching to festivity.

was deep silence throughout the Court as Mrs. Barber rose from her seat, and stood for a moment like a frightened fawn at gaze, as though uncertain where to find refuge from her fell pursuers. Nor was the timidity which was part of her gentle nature at all dispelled, or even mitigated, when the Usher of the Court yelled out, in an imperative metallic voice:

“This way ’um. Please to come this way ’um;” and then, in an under-tone as soothing, as though he were quietly cursing one of his own corns, but so as not to attract attention, he added, “Up them stairs.”

“Ten thousand swords,” methought should have leaped from their scabbards that instant, and the next, that rude unmanly official should

What! summon this agonised wife, this fair being, to take her place before so awful a tribunal with as little ceremony as you would use in inviting a set of disgusting Aldermen, oozing with turtle and gorged with venison, to charge their filthy glasses at an abominable City feast. The very least that could be done would be to have a tall, mournful, gentlemanlike person in attendance, with a bag-wig and rapier—emblems of courtesy and justice—for the purpose of conducting these most interesting witnesses to their seats; and if an organ had been provided for Sir Cresswell’s use, and a solemn strain had ushered in the appearance of these accusing angels, I think it would have been as well. Mr. half-rose, as though ready to fly to poor Mrs. Barber’s assistance, had she lost consciousness at the outset of this trying ordeal. The three Judges even seemed moved to pity, and would, no doubt, but for the stern suggestions of duty, have tendered their aid to the unfortunate lady who was endeavouring to climb the steps to the awful pen. One moment more—and it is done; the fatal rail is let down, and the Fawn—a captive!

The Usher with the metallic voice continued:

“Lift your weil; take your glove hoff—the right ’and—please ’um” (this last phrase with a kind of explanatory growl); “the hevidence wich you are habout to give, &c., &c.”

Mrs. Barber had only half-raised her veil during the performance of this ceremony, poor soul! She had evidently lost the consciousness of her position, and rendered merely mechanical obedience to the stern commands of the Familiar of the Court. Her ungloved hand rested upon the rail of the pen; the veil was neither up nor down; obviously, she had not the slightest idea that she was the mark of every eye—but there was a sob. Oh! Barber, Barber! this is really too bad.

The kind old Judge who was trying the case had been for some time making little courteous waves with the pen which he held in his hand, and by telegraph inviting Mrs. Barber to take her place