the mind of his own neighbourhood and surroundings. And Rolls, to tell the truth, was deeply depressed when he found himself shut up within that blank interior, with nothing to do, and nothing to support the amour propre which was his strength, except the inborn conviction of his own righteousness and exemplary position—a sight for all men. But there is nothing that takes down the sense of native merit so much as solitude and absence of appreciation. Opposition and hostility are stimulants, and keep warm in us the sense of our own superiority, but not the contemptuous indifference of a surly turnkey to whom one is
No. 25, and who cared not a straw for Rolls’s position and career. He felt himself getting limp as the long featureless days went on, and doubts of every kind assailed him. Had he been right to do it? Since he had made this sacrifice for his master, there had come into his mind a chill of doubt which he had never been touched by before. Was it certain that it was John who had done it? Might not he, Rolls, be making a victim of himself for some nameless tramp, who would never even know of it, nor care, and whose punishment would be doubly deserved and worthy of no man’s interference? Rolls felt that this was a suggestion of the devil for his discomfiture. He tried to chase it out of his mind by thinking of the pleasures he had secured for himself in that last week of his life—of Edinburgh Castle and the Calton Jail and the Earthen Mound, and the wonders of the Observatory. To inspect these had been the dream of his life, and he had attained that felicity. He had believed that this would give him “plenty to think about” for the rest of his life—and that, especially for the time of his confinement, it would afford an excellent provision; but he did not find the solace that he had expected in musing upon Mons Meg and the Scottish Regalia. How dreadful four walls become when you are shut up within them; how the air begins to hum and buzz after a while with your thoughts that have escaped you, and swarm about like bees, all murmurous and unresting—these were the discoveries he made. Rolls grew nervous, almost hysterical, in the unusual quiet. What would he not have given for his plate to polish, or his lamps to trim! He had been allowed to have what are called writing materials—a few dingy sheets of notepaper, a penny bottle of ink, a rusty steel pen—but Rolls was not accustomed to literary composition; and a few books—but Rolls was scornful of what he called “novelles,” and considered even more serious reading, as an occupation which required thought and a mind free of care. And nobody came to see him. He had no effusion of gratitude and sweet praise from his master.
Mr. Monypenny was Rolls’s only visitor, who came to take all his explanations, and get a perfect understanding of how his case ought to be conducted. The butler had become rather limp and feeble before even
Mr. Monypenny appeared.
“I’m maybe not worthy of much,” Rolls said, with a wave of his hand, “but I think there’s one or two might have come to see me—one or two.”
“I think so too, Rolls; but it is not want of feeling. I have instructions from Mr. Erskine to spare no expense; to have the very best man that can be had. And I make no doubt we’ll carry you through. I’m thinking of trying Jardine, who is at the very top of the tree.”
“And what will that cost, if I may make so bold, Mr. Monypenny?”
When he heard the sum that was needed for the advocate’s fee, Rolls’s countenance fell, but his spirit rose. “Lord bless us!” he said—“a’ that for standing up and discoursing before the Court! And most of them are real well pleased to hear themselves speak, if it were without fee or reward. I think shame to have a’ that siller spent upon me; but it’s a grand thing of the young master, and a great compliment: it will please Bauby too.”
“He ought to have come to see you—so old a servant, and a most faithful one,” said Mr. Monypenny.
“Well-a-well, sir, there’s many things to be said: a gentleman has things to do; there’s a number of calls upon his time. He would mean well, I make no doubt, and then he would forget; but to put his hand in his pocket like that! Bauby will be very well pleased. I am glad, poor woman, that she has the like of that to keep up her heart.”
“Well, Rolls, I am glad to see that you are so grateful. Thinking over all the circumstances, and that you lost no time in giving the alarm, and did your best to have succour carried to him, I think I may say that you will be let off very easy. I would not be astonished if you were discharged at once. In any case it will be a light sentence. You may keep your mind easy about that.”
“It’s all in the hands of Providence,” said Rolls. He was scarcely willing to allow that his position was one to be considered so cheerfully. “It will be a grand exhibition o’ eloquence,” he said; “and will there be as much siller spent, and as great an advocate on the other side, Mr. Monypenny? It’s a wonderful elevating thought to think that the best intellects in the land will be warstlin’ ower a simple body like me.”
“And that is true, Rolls; they will just warstle over ye—it will be a treat to hear it. And if I get Jardine, he will do it con amore, for he’s a sworn enemy to the Procurator, and cannot bide the Lord Advocate. He’s a tremendous speaker when he’s got a good subject; and he’ll do it
