“A very serious thing; but I do not think that on that account it should be avoided.”
“No; but it seems to me that you are always inclined to play at marriage. Do not be angry with me, but for the life of me I can never think you are in earnest.”
“But I shall be angry—very angry—if I do not get from you some answer to what I have ventured to say.”
“What, now; today;—this morning? If you insist upon that, the answer can only be of one sort. If I am driven to decide this morning on the question that you have asked me, great as the honour is—and coming from you, Mr. Staveley, it is very great—I must decline it. I am not able, at any rate at the present moment, to trust my happiness altogether in your hands.” When we think of the half-written letter which at this moment Miss Furnival had within her desk, this was not wonderful.
And then, without having said anything more that was of note, Augustus Staveley went his way. As he walked up Harley Street, he hardly knew whether or no he was to consider himself as bound to Miss Furnival; nor did he feel quite sure whether or no he wished to be so bound. She was handsome, and clever, and an heiress; but yet he was not certain that she possessed all those womanly charms which are desirable in a wife. He could not but reflect that she had never yet said a soft word to him.
LXVII
Mr. Moulder Backs His Opinion
As the day of the trial drew nigh, the perturbation of poor John Kenneby’s mind became very great. Moulder had not intended to frighten him, but had thought it well to put him up to what he believed to be the truth. No doubt he would be badgered and bullied. “And,” as Moulder said to his wife afterwards, “wasn’t it better that he should know what was in store for him?” The consequence was, that had it been by any means possible, Kenneby would have run away on the day before the trial.
But it was by no means possible, for Dockwrath had hardly left him alone for an instant. Dockwrath at this time had crept into a sort of employment in the case from which Matthew Round had striven in vain to exclude him. Mr. Round had declared once or twice that if Mr. Mason encouraged Dockwrath in interfering, he, Round, would throw the matter up. But professional men cannot very well throw up their business, and Round went on, although Dockwrath did interfere, and although Mr. Mason did encourage him. On the eve of the trial he went down to Alston with Kenneby and Bolster; and Mr. Moulder, at the express instance of Kenneby, accompanied them.
“What can I do? I can’t stop the fellow’s gab,” Moulder had said. But Kenneby pleaded hard that some friend might be near him in the day of his trouble, and Moulder at last consented.
“I wish it was me,” Mrs. Smiley had said, when they talked the matter over in Great St. Helens; “I’d let the barrister know what was what when he came to knock me about.” Kenneby wished it also, with all his heart.
Mr. Mason went down by the same train, but he travelled by the first class. Dockwrath, who was now holding his head up, would have gone with him, had he not thought it better to remain with Kenneby. “He might jump out of the carriage and destroy himself,” he said to Mr. Mason.
“If he had any of the feelings of an Englishman within his breast,” said Mason, “he would be anxious to give assistance towards the punishment of such a criminal as that.”
“He has only the feelings of a tomtit,” said Dockwrath.
Lodgings had been taken for the two chief witnesses together, and Moulder and Dockwrath shared the accommodation with them. As they sat down to tea together, these two gentlemen doubtless felt that Bridget Bolster was not exactly fitting company for them. But the necessities of an assize week, and of such a trial as this, level much of these distinctions, and they were both prepared to condescend and become affable.
“Well, Mrs. Bolster, and how do you find yourself?” asked Dockwrath.
Bridget was a solid, square-looking woman, somewhat given to flesh, and now not very quick in her movements. But the nature of her past life had given to her a certain amount of readiness, and an absence of that dread of her fellow-creatures, which so terribly afflicted poor Kenneby. And then also she was naturally not a stupid woman, or one inclined to be muddleheaded. Perhaps it would be too much to say that she was generally intelligent, but what she did understand, she understood thoroughly.
“Pretty well, I thank you, Mr. Dockwrath. I shan’t be sorry to have a bit of something to my tea.”
Bridget Bolster perfectly understood that she was to be well fed when thus brought out for work in her country’s service. To have everything that she wanted to eat and drink at places of public entertainment, and then to have the bills paid for her behind her back, was to Bridget Bolster the summit of transitory human bliss.
“And you shall have something to your tea,” said Dockwrath. “What’s it to be?”
“A steak’s as good as anything at these places,” suggested Moulder.
“Or some ham and eggs,” suggested Dockwrath.
“Kidneys is nice,” said Bridget.
“What do you say, Kenneby?” asked Dockwrath.
“It is nothing to me,” said Kenneby; “I have no appetite. I think I’ll take a little brandy-and-water.”
Mr. Moulder possessed the most commanding spirit, and the steak was ordered. They then made themselves as comfortable as circumstances would admit, and gradually fell into a general conversation about the trial. It had been understood among them since they first came together, that as a matter of etiquette the witnesses were not to be
