Mary Barton

by Elizabeth Cleghorn Gaskell

  XXIX. A TRUE BILL AGAINST JEM.

  "There are who, living by the legal pen, Are held in honour--honourable men." --CRABBE.

  At five minutes before two, Job Legh stood upon the doorstep of thehouse where Mr. Bridgnorth lodged at Assize time. He had left Mrs.Wilson at the dwelling of a friend of his, who had offered him aroom for the old woman and Mary: a room which had frequently beenhis, on his occasional visits to Liverpool, but which he wasthankful now to have obtained for them, as his own sleeping placewas a matter of indifference to him, and the town appeared crowdedand disorderly on the eve of the Assizes.

  He was shown in to Mr. Bridgnorth, who was writing; Mary and WillWilson had not yet arrived, being, as you know, far away on thebroad sea; but of this Job of course knew nothing, and he did not asyet feel much anxiety about their non-appearance; he was morecurious to know the result of Mr. Bridgnorth's interview thatmorning with Jem.

  "Why, yes," said Mr. Bridgnorth, putting down his pen, "I have seenhim, but to little purpose, I'm afraid. He's very impracticable--very. I told him, of course, that he must be perfectly open withme, or else I could not be prepared for the weak points. I namedyour name with the view of unlocking his confidence, but"--

  "What did he say?" asked Job breathlessly.

  "Why, very little. He barely answered me. Indeed, he refused toanswer some questions--positively refused. I don't know what I cando for him."

  "Then you think him guilty, sir?" said Job despondingly.

  "No, I don't," replied Mr. Bridgnorth, quickly and decisively."Much less than I did before I saw him. The impression (mind, 't isonly impression I rely upon your caution, not to take it for fact)--the impression," with an emphasis on the word, "he gave me is, thathe knows something about the affair, but what, he will not say; andso the chances are, if he persists in his obstinacy, he'll be hung.That's all."

  He began to write again, for he had no time to lose.

  "But he must not be hung," said Job with vehemence.

  Mr. Bridgnorth looked up, smiled a little, but shook his head.

  "What did he say, sir, if I may be so bold as to ask?" continuedJob.

  "His words were few enough, and he was so reserved and short, that,as I said before, I can only give you the impression they conveyedto me. I told him, of course, who I was, and for what I was sent.He looked pleased, I thought--at least his face (sad enough when Iwent in, I assure ye) brightened a little; but he said he hadnothing to say, no defence to make. I asked him if he was guilty,then; and, by way of opening his heart, I said I understood he hadhad provocation enough, inasmuch as I heard that the girl was verylovely and had jilted him to fall desperately in love with thathandsome young Carson (poor fellow!). But James Wilson did notspeak one way or another. I then went to particulars. I asked himif the gun was his, as his mother had declared. He had not heard ofher admission, it was evident, from his quick way of looking up, andthe glance of his eye; but when he saw I was observing him, he hungdown his head again, and merely said she was right; it was his gun."

  "Well!" said Job impatiently, as Mr. Bridgnorth paused.

  "Nay! I have little more to tell you," continued that gentleman."I asked him to inform me, in all confidence, how it came to befound there. He was silent for a time, and then refused. Not onlyrefused to answer that question, but candidly told me he would notsay another word on the subject, and, thanking me for my trouble andinterest in his behalf, he all but dismissed me. Ungracious enoughon the whole, was it not, Mr. Legh? And yet, I assure ye, I amtwenty times more inclined to think him innocent than before I hadthe interview."

  "I wish Mary Barton would come," said Job anxiously. "She and Willare a long time about it."

  "Ay, that's our only chance, I believe," answered Mr. Bridgnorth,who was writing again. "I sent Johnson off before twelve to servehim with his sub-poena, and to say I wanted to speak with him; he'llbe here soon, I've no doubt."

  There was a pause. Mr. Bridgnorth looked up again, and spoke.

  "Mr. Duncombe promised to be here to speak to his character. I senthim a sub-poena on Saturday night. Though, after all, juries govery little by such general and vague testimony as that tocharacter. It is very right that they should not often; but in thisinstance unfortunate for us, as we must rest our case on the alibi."

  The pen went again, scratch, scratch over the paper.

  Job grew very fidgety. He sat on the edge of his chair, the morereadily to start up when Will and Mary should appear. He listenedintently to every noise and every step on the stair.

  Once he heard a man's footstep, and his old heart gave a leap ofdelight. But it was only Mr. Bridgnorth's clerk, bringing him alist of those cases in which the grand jury had found true bills.He glanced it over and pushed it to Job, merely saying--

  "Of course we expected this," and went on with his writing.

  There was a true bill against James Wilson, of course. And yet Jobfelt now doubly anxious and sad. It seemed the beginning of theend. He had got, by imperceptible degrees, to think Jem innocent.Little by little this persuasion had come upon him.

  Mary (tossing about in the little boat on the broad river) did notcome, nor did Will.

  Job grew very restless. He longed to go and watch for them out ofthe window, but feared to interrupt Mr. Bridgnorth. At length hisdesire to look out was irresistible, and he got up and walkedcarefully and gently across the room, his boots creaking at everycautious step. The gloom which had overspread the sky, and theinfluence of which had been felt by Mary on the open water, was yetmore perceptible in the dark, dull street. Job grew more and morefidgety. He was obliged to walk about the room, for he could notkeep still; and he did so, regardless of Mr. Bridgnorth's impatientlittle motions and noises, as the slow, stealthy, creaking movementswere heard, backwards and forwards, behind his chair.

  He really liked Job, and was interested for Jem, else hisnervousness would have overcome his sympathy long before it did.But he could hold out no longer against the monotonous, gratingsound; so at last he threw down his pen, locked his portfolio, andtaking up his hat and gloves, he told Job he must go to the courts.

  "But Will Wilson is not come," said Job in dismay. "Just wait whileI run to his lodgings. I would have done it before, but I thoughtthey'd be here every minute, and I were afraid of missing them.I'll be back in no time."

  "No, my good fellow, I really must go. Besides, I begin to thinkJohnson must have made a mistake, and have fixed with this WilliamWilson to meet me at the courts. If you like to wait for him here,pray make use of my room; but I've a notion I shall find him there:in which case, I'll send him to your lodging; shall I? You knowwhere to find me. I shall be here again by eight o'clock, and withthe evidence of this witness that's to prove the alibi, I'll havethe brief drawn out, and in the hands of counsel to-night."

  So saying he shook hands with Job, and went his way. The old manconsidered for a minute as he lingered at the door, and then benthis steps towards Mrs. Jones's, where he knew (from reference toqueer, odd, heterogeneous memoranda, in an ancient black-leatherpocket-book) that Will lodged, and where he doubted not he shouldhear both of him and of Mary.

  He went there, and gathered what intelligence he could out of Mrs.Jones's slow replies.

  He asked if a young woman had been there that morning, and if shehad seen Will Wilson. "No!"

  "Why not?"

  "Why, bless you, 'cause he had sailed some hours before she cameasking for him."

  There was a dead silence, broken only by the even, heavy sound ofMrs. Jones's ironing.

  "Where is the young woman now?" asked Job.

  "Somewhere down at the docks," she thought. "Charley would know, ifhe was in, but he wasn't. He was in mischief, somewhere or other,she had no doubt. Boys always were. He would break his neck someday, she knew"; so saying, she quietly spat upon her fresh iron, totest its heat, and then went on with her business.

  Job could have b
oxed her, he was in such a state of irritation. Buthe did not, and he had his reward. Charley came in, whistling withan air of indifference, assumed to carry off his knowledge of thelateness of the hour to which he had lingered about the docks.

  "Here's an old man come to know where the young woman is who wentout with thee this morning," said his mother, after she had bestowedon him a little motherly scolding.

  "Where she is now I don't know. I saw her last sailing down theriver after the John Cropper. I'm afeard she won't reach her; windchanged, and she would be under weigh, and over the bar in no time.She would have been back by now."

  It took Job some little time to understand this, from the confuseduse of the feminine pronoun. Then he inquired how he could bestfind Mary.

  "I'll run down again to the pier," said the boy; "I'll warrant I'llfind her."

  "Thou shalt do no such a thing," said his mother, setting her backagainst the door. The lad made a comical face at Job, which metwith no responsive look from the old man, whose sympathies werenaturally in favour of the parent: although he would thankfullyhave availed himself of Charley's offer; for he was weary, andanxious to return to poor Mrs. Wilson, who would be wondering whathad become of him.

  "How can I best find her? Who did she go with, lad?"

  But Charley was sullen at his mother's exercise of authority beforea stranger, and at that stranger's grave looks when he meant to havemade him laugh.

  "They were river boatmen;--that's all I know," said he.

  "But what was the name of their boat?" persevered Job.

  "I never took no notice; the Anne, or William,--or some of themcommon names, I'll be bound."

  "What pier did she start from?" asked Job despairingly.

  "Oh, as for that matter, it were the stairs on the Prince's Pier shestarted from; but she'll not come back to the same, for the Americansteamer came up with the tide, and anchored close to it, blocking upthe way for all the smaller craft. It's a rough evening, too, to beout on," he maliciously added.

  "Well, God's will be done! I did hope we could have saved the lad,"said Job sorrowfully; "but I'm getten very doubtful again. I'muneasy about Mary, too,--very. She's a stranger in Liverpool."

  "So she told me," said Charley. "There's traps about for youngwomen at every corner. It's a pity she's no one to meet her whenshe lands."

  "As for that," replied Job, "I don't see how any one could meet herwhen we can't tell where she would come to. I must trust to hercoming right. She's getten spirit and sense. She'll most likely befor coming here again. Indeed, I don't know what else she can do,for she knows no other place in Liverpool. Missus, if she comes,will you give your son leave to bring her to No. 8, Back GardenCourt, where there's friends waiting for her? I'll give himsixpence for his trouble."

  Mrs. Jones, pleased with the reference to her, gladly promised. Andeven Charley, indignant as he was at first at the idea of hismotions being under the control of his mother, was mollified at theprospect of the sixpence, and at the probability of getting nearerto the heart of the mystery.

  But Mary never came.