-^'-?^ 
 
 L^l 
 
 c. 
 
 University of 'California. 
 
 aiFT OF 
 
 HENRY DOUGLASS BACON. 
 
 1877, 
 
 Accessions No. ...^.^.(^^.Z.ST Shelf No.-s^...j^::i.... | j 
 
 
NOW AND THEN 
 
NOW AND THEN 
 
 THROUGH A GLASS DARKLY 
 
 BY SAMUEL WARREN, F.R.S. 
 
 AUTHOR OF 
 
 'ten thousand a-year," and the "diary of a late physician' 
 
 THIRD EDITION 
 
 WILLIAM BLACKWOOD AND SONS 
 
 EDINBURGH AND LONDON 
 
 MDCCCXLIX 
 
PRINTEU L'Y WILLIAM BLACKWOOD AX D SONS, EDIVBUHGH. 
 
TO 
 
 EDWARD WALPOLE WARREN, 
 
 THIS WORK IS INSCRIBED, 
 AS A TOKEN OF LOVE, 
 
 BY 
 
 HIS FATHER. 
 
 London, 18th Decemher 1847. 
 
PREFACE TO THE THIRD EDITION, 
 
 I AM at a loss for terms in which to express mj 
 sense of the favour with which this work has been 
 received bj the public, both at home and abroad. 
 Two very large editions, thrice as large as I could have 
 contemplated, before yielding to the confidence of my 
 publishers, were exhausted almost immediately, and 
 the second has been now out of print for several 
 months. I greatly regret the delay which has occurred 
 in bringing out this Third Edition, and the disap- 
 pointment which may have been felt by numerous 
 applicants for copies of the work. That delay has 
 been occasioned by the pressure of numerous engage- 
 ments, which prevented my bestowing upon the pre- 
 sent Edition the careful revision which it has now 
 received. The necessity of that revision may be 
 accounted for, by the rapidity and suddenness with 
 which " Now and Then" was written, and passed 
 through the press. Not a line of the manuscript was 
 
viii PKEFACK. 
 
 ill existence previously to near midnight on the 20th 
 November 1847 ; j^et it was in the hands of the prin- 
 ter at a very early hour in the morning of the 9tli of 
 December, and was actually published on Saturday the 
 1 8th of December; on which day, and the ensuing 
 Monday, the entire Edition was disposed of, and the 
 second in preparation. During the brief interval above 
 mentioned, I wrote principally in the night-time, my 
 days being necessarily otherwise occupied. While 
 making these statements, however, I anxiously depre- 
 cate the imputation of having rushed before an indul- 
 gent public without due and respectful consideration ; 
 for this story, the elements of which had been long 
 floating in my mind, had been thoroughly thought out, 
 in all its parts, during the two months immediately 
 preceding the day on which I began to write ; and I 
 venture to doubt whether many modern books of this 
 description have occasioned their Authors more deli- 
 berate and anxious consideration, than I had bestowed 
 on this one, before sitting down to write. Whatever 
 faults of execution and detail may even still be found, 
 this at least 1 can truly affirm, that every character, 
 conversation, and incident introduced, is the result of 
 much reflection, and is in strict subordination to a 
 determined purpose, steadily kept in view from begin- 
 ning to end. The plan may be faulty, and the con- 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 ception unsatisfactory ; but such as it is, it has been 
 completely carried out. 
 
 I had, as I conceived, very important objects in 
 view, in writing this work ; but it would be almost an 
 impertinence here to indicate them, for they are suffi- 
 ciently obvious to a thinking reader. I have, however, 
 two observations to offer on this subject. First, — that I 
 most advisedly abstained, for grave reasons, from so con- 
 triving tlie plot of the story, as to make it in accordance 
 with what is understood by the words " poetical justice'' 
 Had I been so minded, few experienced readers can 
 avoid perceiving, from the ensuing pages, how abun- 
 dantly easy it would have been to effectuate such an 
 intention. In the second place, I solemnly disclaim 
 an object which a great organ of public opinion, the 
 Times newspaper, suggested as likely to have been con- 
 templated by the writer of this work, viz. to con- 
 tribute towards the abolition of capital punishments, 
 even in cases of murder. I am, on the contrary, 
 quite agreed in opinion, on that subject, with my 
 able reviewer in the Times. I had, in truth, given 
 the subject great consideration, long before writing 
 this work ; and fear that the legislature has, in 
 recent times, gone unwisely, though with praiseworthy 
 intentions, too far in abolishing capital punishments. 
 Entertaining these views, I feel it rather hard that 
 
X PREFACE. 
 
 the Author of this work should bo represented — 
 as has been the case, not only in this country, but 
 on the Continent, and in America — as favouring and 
 endeavouring to advance doctrines which he utterly re- 
 pudiates. I acknowledge that, as a subsidiary object, 
 I have endeavoured to illustrate the awful liability 
 to error, to which even the highest and best human 
 intellects and institutions are liable, in judging of, and 
 dealing with, especially judicially, the events which hap- 
 pen around us, in the mysterious scene of action in which 
 God has placed mankind — where He has ordained that 
 we should hioiu in part only, and see through a glass 
 darkly. These are topics suggesting many solem- 
 nising and salutary reflections. — On the particular 
 subject under consideration, which has been repeatedly 
 mentioned to me, as the Author of this work, I express 
 my entire concurrence with the critic in question ; who 
 says that " if we are to suspend a punishment essential 
 to public example, and justified by the laws of God, as 
 well as by the oldest sanctions of man, until human 
 institutions are rendered absolutely perfect and un- 
 erring, we must, on the same grounds, stop short also 
 of inflicting smaller penalties for secondary crimes, and 
 finally resolve to inflict upon our fellow-creatures no 
 punishment whatever." 
 
 I feel constrained to say, that the almost unanimous 
 
PREFACE. XI 
 
 approbation of this work, expressed bj the public press, 
 — overlooking, in a noble spirit, defects of detail, while 
 recognising good intentions, — has deeply, indelibly, im- 
 pressed my heart. I have also received a surprising 
 number of private communications, of a similar kind, 
 from persons in all ranks of society, and even in far 
 distant lands. I humbly hope that the feelings and 
 intentions with which " Now and Then" was written 
 will, as some of those communications have suggested, 
 bear that terrible test — deathbed reflection. I regarded 
 the publishing of this work, as a very bold experiment ; 
 and it is impossible to express the anxiety with which 
 I awaited the issue, which was destined greatly to 
 surpass my most sanguine expectations. 
 
 The title '^ of the work has been variously remarked 
 on. It was deemed by myself to be peculiarly signi- 
 ficant and suggestive; but I intended that, while it 
 should awaken curiosity, the propriety of the words 
 should become fully apparent, only on finishing the 
 perusal of the work : when " Now and Then'' might 
 present themselves under several aspects, to one who 
 might have taken the trouble to reflect on the course 
 of the narrative. 
 
 The scheme of the story is purposely simple and 
 
 * " For NOW we see through a glass, darkly ; but then face to face : now 
 I know in part ; but then shall T know even as also I am known." — 1 Cor. 
 xiii. 12. 
 
Xli PREFACE. 
 
 slight ; but it appeared to afford opportunities for exhi- 
 biting human nature under circumstances of exquisite 
 interest, difficulty, and perplexity, such as are calcu- 
 lated to call into action its strongest passions and high- 
 est faculties. The aim of the writer was to deduce, 
 from such a display, lessons of sterling value. And 
 finally, this work was, with all its imperfections, com- 
 posed under a strong sense of the serious moral respon- 
 sibility attaching to him who ventures to write for the 
 public ; especially if he believes that what he writes has 
 the faintest chance of being read by many, or influen- 
 cing the feelings, opinions, or conduct of one. 
 
NOW AND THEN, 
 
 V o'^ THE >e^ 
 UiTIT^E^RrSITy: 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 SOMEWHEEE about a hundred years ago (but in which 
 of our good kings' reigns, or in which of our sea-coast 
 counties, is needless to be known) there stood alone, at a 
 little distance from the secluded village of Milverstoke, a 
 cottage of the better sort, which no one could have seen, 
 without its suggesting to him that he was looking at a cot- 
 tage of the true old English kind. It was most snug in 
 winter, and in summer very beautiful ; glistening, as then it 
 did, in all its fragrant loveliness of jessamine, honeysuckle, 
 and sweet-briar. There, also, stood a bee-hive, in the 
 centre of the garden, which, stretching down to the road- 
 side, was so filled with flowers, especially roses, that nothing 
 could be seen of the ground in which they grew ; wherefore 
 it might well be, that the busy little personages who occu- 
 pied the tiny mansion so situated, conceived that the lines 
 
2 NOW AND THEN. 
 
 Lad fallen to them in veiy pleasant places indeed. The 
 cottage was built substantially, though originally somewhat 
 rudely, and principally of sea-shore stones. It had a thick 
 thatched overhanging roof, and the walls were low. In 
 front there were two latticed windows, one above the other. 
 The lower one belonged to tlie room of the building ; the 
 higher, which was much smaller, belonged to what might 
 be called the chief bed-room ; for there were tln-ee little 
 dormitories — two being small, and at the back of the cot- 
 tage. Not far behind, and somewhat to the left, stood an 
 elm-tree, its trunk covered with ivy ; and it so effectually 
 sheltered from the sea breezes the modest little fabric 
 beneath, and otherwise so materially contributed to its snug, 
 picturesque appearance, that there could be little doubt of 
 the tree's having reached its maturity, before there was 
 any such structure for it to grace and protect. Beside this 
 tree was a wicket, by which was entered a small slip of 
 ground, half garden and half orchard. All the foregoing 
 formed the remnant of a little freehold property, which had 
 belonged to its present owner, and to his family before him, 
 for several generations. The mitial letter (^) of then- 
 name, x^yliffe, was rudely cut, in old English character, in 
 a piece of stone forming a sort of centre facing over the 
 doorway ; and no one then living there, knew when that 
 letter had been cut. The present owner of the cottage 
 was Adam Ayliffe, once a substantial, but now a reduced 
 yeoman, well stricken in years, being at the time now 
 spoken of not far from his sixty-eighth year, the crown of 
 his head was bald, and finely formed ; and the little hair 
 
NOW AND THEN. ^ 
 
 that lie liad left was of a silvery colour, verging on white. 
 His countenance and figure were striking, to an observant 
 beholder ; who would have said at once, " That man is of a 
 firm and upright character, and has seen trouble," — all 
 which was indeed distinctly written in his open Saxon 
 features. His eye was of a clear blue, and steadfast in its 
 gaze ; and when he spoke, it was with a certain quaintness, 
 which seemed in keeping with his simple and stern cha- 
 racter. All who had ever known AyliiFe entertained for 
 him a deep respect. He was of an independent spirit, 
 somewhat taciturn, and of a retiring, contemplative humour. 
 His life was utterly blameless, regulated throughout by 
 the purifying and elevating influence of Christianity. The 
 excellent vicar of the parish in which he lived, reverenced 
 him : holding him up as a pattern, and pointing him out 
 as one of whom it might be humbly said. Behold an 
 Israelite indeed^ in ivJiom is no guile. Yet the last few 
 years of his life had been passed in great trouble. 
 Ten years before had occurred, in the loss of his wife, who 
 had been every way worthy of him, the first great sorrow of 
 his life. After twenty years spent together in happiness 
 greater than tongue could tell, it had pleased God, who had 
 given her to him, to take her away — suddenly, indeed, but 
 very gently. He woke one morning, when she woke not, 
 but lay sweetly sleeping the sleep of death. His Sarah was 
 gone, and thenceforth his great hope was to follow her, and 
 be with her again. His spirit was stunned for a while, but 
 murmured not ; saymg, with resignation, '' The Lord hath 
 given, and the Lord hath taken away : blessed be the name 
 
4 NOW AND THEN. 
 
 of the Lord." A year or two afterwards occurred to him 
 a second trouble, great, but of a different kind. He was 
 suddenly reduced almost to beggary. To enable the son of 
 an old deceased friend to become a collector of public rates 
 in an adjoining county, Ayllffe had unsuspiciously become 
 his sm-ety. The man, however, for whom he had done this 
 service, fell soon afterwards into intemperate and dissolute 
 habits ; dishonesty, as usual, soon followed *, and poor Ay- 
 liffe was horrified one evening by being called upon, his 
 principal having absconded, a great defaulter, to contribute 
 to repair the deficiency, to the full extent of his bond. At 
 the time of this sad event, Aylifie was the freehold owner of 
 some forty or fifty acres of gromid adjoining his cottage, 
 besides having some small sum of money advanced upon 
 mortgage to a neighbour, the interest of which he was set- 
 ting apart for a purpose which will be presently mentioned. 
 But all was suddenly sacrificed:. — not only the little accu- 
 mulation of Interest, but the principal from which It had 
 grown, — and not only that, but more than half of his land, 
 to make good the loss for which he had so mihapplly become 
 responsible. This stroke seemed to prostrate poor Aylifie, 
 not only on account of his severe pecuniary loss, but his 
 cruelly betrayed confidence. Nor was this all. His favourite 
 pui-pose had been suddenly defeated : that pui-pose having 
 been, to make a provision for the marriage of his only child, 
 a son, called after himself, Adam, — bemg the fifth Adam 
 Aylifie, father and son, during as many generations. That 
 fondly desired object was now unattainable ; and father and 
 ^ eon shortly afterwards experienced a bitter proof of the too 
 
NOW AND THEN. 
 
 frequent fickleness of earthly friendships. The girl whose 
 hand had been pledged to young Adam, readily broke off 
 the match at her parents' desire ; and she being very pretty, 
 and they so well to do in the world as would have enabled 
 them with ease to set Adam Ayliffe and their daughter com- 
 fortably going in life, little difficulty was found in obtam- 
 ing a successor to poor Adam, in a thriving young farmer, 
 whom, however, if the truth must be told, she had origi- 
 nally jilted in his favour. And possibly some paUiative of 
 her misconduct in the matter might have been derived from 
 the fact, that Adam was not only of an old family, and would 
 have succeeded to no inconsiderable hereditary property, but 
 was also one of the finest young fellows in the county ; 
 with a handsome countenance, of a most engaging frank- 
 ness ; a figure tall and well formed; possessed of surpassing 
 activity and strength, and of a daring and reckless courage. 
 In all manly exercises he excelled every competitor ; and as 
 to his feats at singlestick, they were famous in several adjoin- 
 ing counties. Every one, in short, liked Adam AyUffe : he 
 had a laugh and a good word for all whom he met ; would 
 do any thing to obhge any body ; and seemed not to know 
 that there was such a thing in the world to be looked after 
 as — self. 
 
 It was every where said that a handsomer couple than 
 Adam and Phoebe would make, was not to be found. But, 
 poor soul ! all his prospects were, as has been seen, in one 
 moment blighted ; and Phoebe's heartless desertion hurt 
 him far more than the poverty, with its humiliating inci- 
 dents, into which he and his father had so unexpectedly 
 
NOW AND THEN. 
 
 been plimged. His buoyancy of spirits had fled for ever ; 
 but the manly simpUcity of character which he had 
 inherited from his father, remamed. Much, however, of 
 that father's pious teaching it took, to soothe the ruffled 
 sph'it of his son. Long was it before any one could 
 exchange a smile with Adam Ayliffe the younger. Alas ! 
 what a contrast now, between father and son going here- 
 tofore together arm in arm to church, the one with his 
 great walking-stick, broad hat, and long rough blue coat, and 
 face of grave, but not austere composure ; the other gaily 
 clad, and his hat somewhat jauntily set upon his curly 
 nut-brown hair ; nodding to this one, smiling to the other, 
 and taking off his hat to the elder folk ! As the two would 
 stand suddenly uncovered while the parson passed or met 
 them, on his way into the church, his heart yearned towards 
 them both. He thoroughly loved and respected them, and 
 was proud of two such specimens of the EngKsh yeoman : 
 and, above all, he was charmed with the good example 
 which they uniformly set to all his other parishioners. He 
 had from Adam's boyhood entertamed a liking for him, 
 and had personally bestowed no inconsiderable pains upon 
 his education, which, though plain, as suited his position, 
 was yet sound and substantial. Greatly concerned had 
 been the Vicar, at the disasters befalling the Ayliffes ; nay, 
 he went so far as secretly to make an effort to reclami the 
 fickle Phoebe : but in vain : it was plainly not to be ; and 
 then he sought to satisfy the sorely discomfited suitor, that 
 he might depend upon it all would tm^n out for the best. 
 The Eev. Henry Hylton, M.A., at the time now spoken 
 
NOW AND THEN. / 
 
 of, had been Yicar of Milverstoke for nearly twenty years. 
 It was a Cambridge College living, of about £300 a-year ; 
 the &st that had fallen in for his acceptance, after he had 
 obtained his Fellowship, to which, in consequence of his 
 distinguished degree, he had been elected almost immedi- 
 ately. He was a man of good family ; of powerful intellect 
 and accurate scholarship ; deeply read in divinity ; of signal 
 decision of character, lofty independence of spirit, and fer- 
 vent piety. He, too, was naturally of a cheerful disposition, 
 but had been saddened by domestic affliction ; for marrymg, 
 shortly after coming to the living, a woman every way fitted 
 for her post, of sweet and most amiable temper, they had 
 had five childi^en, all of whom had died, except the youngest ; 
 a little girl, for whom it may easily be believed that they 
 entertained an anxious love passing expression. 
 
 After young Adam's troubles had come upon him, by 
 way of occupying or diverting his attention, Mr Hylton 
 would have him often to the parsonage, on some kind pre- 
 text or other ; one being to copy out some old sermons, the 
 manuscript of which had become too small to be read in the 
 pulpit conveniently ; the good Vicar's eyesight not being as 
 clear and strong as it had been originally. Thus it was 
 that Adam came to be constantly thrown into the way of a 
 certain maid of Mr Hylton's— Sarah, whose history was 
 short, but not uninteresting. She had been left an orphan, 
 when young, by a poor widow, a parishioner of Milverstoke, 
 who had died some years before ; and Mrs Hylton, having 
 taken a liking to the girl, had had her carried, about her 
 fourteenth year, to the parsonage, and brought up under 
 
8 NOAV AND THEN. 
 
 her own eye. Sarah proved a good and grateful girl, and 
 became useful, being a good needle- woman, and discreet 
 and intelligent ; in short, she was a favom-ite with both Mr 
 and ]\Ii's Hylton. Though her countenance was pleasing, 
 it could not be called pretty; its expression was pensive 
 and thoughtful ; her voice was soft, and pleasant to hear ; 
 and her figure slight, but well-proportioned. Now Adam 
 and she were often thrown together ; for he used to sit in 
 the housekeeper's room, in the evenings, copying out Mr 
 Hylton's sermons, none other being present than the house- 
 keeper and Sarah: and no one can wonder that Adam 
 should often talk of his troubles, particularly touching 
 Phoebe. The good housekeeper pronounced her a hussy, 
 who would live to repent her shameful conduct ; and assured 
 Adam that there were quite as good fish in the sea, as had 
 ever come out ; he all the while listenmg in silence, or with 
 a sigh, and shaking his head. The last observation, how- 
 ever, imperceptibly grew more grateful to his feelings when- 
 ever it was repeated. At length it occurred to him that 
 Sarah, who was never very voluble, always preserved silence 
 when such topic, or any thing akin to it, was mtroduced, and 
 looked very steadily at her needlework. One's own heart 
 indicates the natural result of all this. On one such occa- 
 sion as that just referred to, Sarah ventured to lift up her 
 eyes, for an instant, from her work, and glanced timidly at 
 Adam, whom she imagined to be busy writing ; but behold! 
 he was looking in silence, and rather earnestly, at her. 
 Thus was kindled the first spark of love between Adam and 
 Sarah ; and, after several years' quiet courtship, long dis- 
 
NOW AND THEN. » 
 
 couraged, but never absolutely forbidden, by both Mr and 
 Mrs Hylton, Adam married Sarah from the parsonage, 
 with the full consent of all persons concerned : and then 
 took her home to the cottage ; where old Adam Ayliffe, as 
 he kissed the pale cheek of the meek and trembling new- 
 comer, welcomed them both with a solemn and affecting 
 benediction that was quite patriarchal. 
 
 " Daughter-in-law," said he, " I am poor : so is this thy hus- 
 band ; and we may become poorer : but here is that which 
 will make those rich, who rely on it. Give me thy hand, 
 Sarah, and thine, Adam," said he, and placed them, with his 
 own, upon the cover of the old family Bible : ^' Promise, 
 with the blessing of Him who gave us this Book, never to 
 look beyond it, in time of trouble, nor then to forget it. 
 Thus promised my Sarah when God gave her to me, who 
 hath since taken her away again !" 
 
 The old man's voice here trembled, but failed him not. 
 Then he tenderly embraced both his son and daughter- 
 in-law, the latter weeping much ; and they sat down to their 
 frugal repast, with such cheerfulness as they might. 
 
 Adam and his son had for some time betaken themselves 
 to labour, for their subsistence ; and on this marriage taking 
 place, both found it necessary to redouble their exertions, 
 in order to meet their augmented expenditure; for small 
 though it might be at first, prudence warned them to pre- 
 pare against any probable increase of it. Bitter, bitter in- 
 deed was it to young Ayliffe, when first he saw his vener- 
 able father enter into the capacity of a hireling ; but not so 
 with that father, who heartily thanked God for the strength 
 
10 NOW AND THEN. 
 
 whicli he still had, and the opportunity of profitably exert- 
 ing that strength. 'Twas somewhat late in the day, to be 
 sure : but the necessity had not arisen from his fault. 
 Labour was the lot of man : this he knew ; and was rever- 
 ently content w^ith that lot. 
 
 These three were the sole occupants of the cottage : and 
 Mrs Ayliffe, being as one might say neatness personified, 
 felt a pride in keeping her pretty residence in fitting order. 
 Often, however, when her husband and father-in-law were 
 absent at their labour, to which they would go early, and 
 from which they would often retmni late, she thought with 
 trembling solicitude about the future ; for in due time she 
 had the prospect of becoming a mother. The sight of her 
 venerable father-in-law thus daily going to, and returning 
 from, his labour, at a time when he ought to have been 
 enjoying the repose suited to his years, greatly distressed 
 her*, and sometimes she would secretly reproach herself 
 for having added even a straw's weight to his burthens, by 
 becoming the wife of his son. That son, however, loved 
 her tenderly ; and with, perhaps, a more lasting affection 
 than ever he might have entertained for her whose place 
 she had so unexpectedly occupied. Both he and his father 
 engaged themselves in their labours with sustained alacrity. 
 But a year and a half's severe and constant exertion, told 
 more heavily on old Adam's impaired physical powders, than 
 he had calculated upon ; and to his grievous mortification, 
 the doctor at length positively forbade his resuming work 
 of any kind, for several months to come. So the old man 
 was not only obliged to lay up, but to incur considerable 
 
NOW AND THEN. 11 
 
 expense by medical attendance, rendered necessary by a 
 serious injiuy, which strong exertion, at his time of life, 
 was but too sure to occasion. 
 
 About a year after her marriage, poor Mrs AyUfFe 
 brought her husband, at the peril of her own life, a son. 
 She had, indeed, a terrible time of it, and did not quit her 
 bed for three months, nor the cottage, for two months 
 after that; during the whole of that period being quite 
 unable to manage her household affairs, — small, it was true 
 — but requiring, nevertheless, constant attention. Alas ! 
 how were all these sadly increased exigencies, and that of 
 medical attendance, to be encountered and provided for? 
 There was but the labour of young Ayliffe, itself producing 
 no great results, but still sufficient, with good management 
 and frugality, to supply their daily necessities. They had 
 also no house-rent to pay : but how long might that be the 
 case ? For abeady had arisen the sad necessity of parting 
 with another portion of the land which still constituted the 
 family property. It had cost old Ayliffe a bitter pang to 
 sacrifice an acre of that land ; yet had he been obliged to 
 do so, and was now again driven to repeat the sacrifice. 
 All hitherto sold, had been purchased on account of the 
 Earl of Milverstoke — a nobleman of ancient lineage and 
 vast possessions, whose principal country residence, Milver- 
 stoke Castle, a magnificent structure, stood at nearly two 
 miles' distance from Ayliffe's cottage. Much must presently 
 be said of this distinguished personage ; for such, indeed, 
 he was, even were it only in respect of his lofty personal 
 character, his great talents, and the high political position 
 
12 NOW AND THEN. 
 
 which he had occupied. Suffice it at present to say, that 
 the Earl did not give himself much personal concern about 
 the management of his estates, but devolved it upon others 
 — upon local agents, all under the control of one principal, 
 who lived in London. The Earl's agent at Milverstoke 
 was ^Ir Oxley, formerly a land-valuer in the adjoining 
 county, a shrewd and energetic man, devoted to the Earl's 
 interests, but occasionally acting in a way not likely to 
 secure to his noble employer the good-will of those who 
 were connected with him as tenants or neighbours ; for little 
 cared Mr Oxley about hui'ting the feelings of any one who 
 stood between him and any of his purposes. He it was 
 who had negotiated the purchase of the land which old 
 Ayliffe had been forced to sell, in consequence of the vil- 
 lany of the person for whom he had become bound ; and 
 the object of Mr Oxley, in making that pmxhase, was the 
 furtherance of a favom-ite scheme which he had for some 
 time had in view, and which had met with the Earl's own 
 approbation, of making a new approach to the Castle, 
 through the woods at the back of it, instead of the present 
 road, which was somewhat inconvenient with reference to 
 the highway, and very circuitous. 
 
 This object could not, however, be attained, unless all the 
 remaining property of Ayliffe could be acquired by the 
 Earl ; whose agent had teased and harassed xlyliffe on the 
 subject, to an extent which only one of so well-regulated 
 a temper as his, could have tolerated with any thing like 
 calmness. The new road to the Castle, it was intended, 
 should pass exactly over the present site of the cottage ; 
 
NOW AND THEN. 13 
 
 which therefore had long been a grievous eyesore to Mr 
 Oxlej, as a monument at once of his own abortive negotia- 
 tion, and, as lie chose to consider it, AyKfFe's dogged obsti- 
 nacy. In vain the old man earnestly told him that it would 
 break his heart to be separated for ever from the property 
 of his fathers — to see their residence pulled down, and all 
 trace of it destroyed ; in vaui did the selfish matter-of-fact 
 man of business hear that Ayliffe hadv solemnly promised 
 his father, on his death-bed, not to part with the cottage so 
 long as he had a crust of bread to eat in it, and a son to 
 succeed to it. Mr Oxley largely increased, and finally 
 doubled, his original offer, on hearing these cunning pre- 
 texts, for such to him they appeared, urged so pertinaciously ; 
 but the old yeoman was not to be tempted : and his resolu- 
 tion irritated Mr Oxley the more, because the latter, never 
 dreaming of having to encounter such an obstacle, had 
 somewhat precipitately pledged himself to the Earl, that 
 his Lordship might depend upon the new road to the Castle 
 being laid down, by a day which had — long passed by. A 
 last and desperate effort was made by Mr Oxley, on behalf 
 of his noble principal, who little dreamed of the real state 
 of the case : or, high-minded as he was, he would have 
 sacrificed a thousand acres of his richest land, rather than 
 have sanctioned the ungracious and unwarrantable proceed- 
 ings attempted on his behalf. But his Lordship had only 
 recently made Milverstoke his constant residence, on his 
 somewhat sudden retirement from public life, and probably 
 knew httle or nothing of what went on in his name, and 
 professedly on his behalf; while of Ayliffe and his property, 
 
] 4 NOW AND THEN. 
 
 the Earl knew little more than that there was a small free- 
 holder of that name, livmg at a short distance from the 
 Castle, whose slight interest in the soil it would be necessary 
 to purchase, before the contemplated approach could be 
 made from the high road to the Castle. On the occasion 
 just alluded to, as witnessing the last eager effort of Mr 
 Oxley to effect liis purpose, Ayliffe and his son were to- 
 gether in the cottage ; and the former, unprovoked by much 
 intemperate and coarse language, which, however, greatly 
 incensed the latter, finally, but quietly, told Mr Oxley that 
 he would talk no more with him on the subject : " And as 
 for my Lord," he added, with a calm, though somewhat 
 stern smile, " let him be satisfied with what he hath ; the 
 Castle for him, the cottage for me ! " 
 
 "Be not a fool, Adam Ayliffe — know your interest 
 and duty better," replied Mr Oxley; '^depend upon it, 
 I will not throw all this my trouble away, nor shall my 
 Lord be disappointed. Listen, therefore, once for all, to 
 reason, and take what is offered, which is princely, and be 
 thankful!" 
 
 " Well, well," said Ayliffe ; " it seems that I cannot say 
 that which will suit thee, good Mr Oxley. Yet once more 
 will I try, and with words that perhaps may reach the ear 
 which mine cannot. Wilt thou hear me ?" 
 
 " Ay, I will hear, sure enough, friend Adam," said Mr 
 Oxley, cm-iously ; on which Ayliffe took do^Am from the top 
 of the clock, which stood in the corner, a large old brass- 
 bound Bible, and, opening it on his lap, read with deliberate 
 emphasis, as follows : — 
 
NOW AND THEN. 15 
 
 " Nabotli, tlie Jezreelite, liacl a vineyard which was in 
 Jezreel, hard by the palace of Ahab, King of Samaria. 
 
 ^' And Ahab spake unto Naboth, saying, ' Give me thy 
 vineyard, that I may have it for a garden of herbs, because 
 it is near unto my house : and I will give thee for it 
 a better vineyard than it ; or if it seem good to thee, I will 
 give thee the worth of it in money.' 
 
 ^' And Naboth said unto Ahab, ' The Lord forbid it me, 
 that I should give the inheritance of my fathers imto thee.' " 
 
 When he had read these last words, which he did very 
 solemnly, Ayliffe closed the Bible, and gazed at Mr Oxley 
 in silence. For a moment the latter seemed somewhat 
 staggered by what he saw, and what he had heard ; but at 
 length — " Oh, ho, Adam ! do you make your Bible speak 
 for you, in business ?" said he, in a tone of rude jocularity. 
 " Well, I shall wish you good day for some little while, it 
 may be, and good luck to you here. It is somewhat of a 
 bit of a place," he continued, as he drew on his gloves, 
 glancing, at the same time, contemptuously round the little 
 room, "to set such store by; but be patient — be patient, 
 Adam ; there is one somewhat larger that will be ready for 
 you by-and-bye." 
 
 This insulting allusion to the workliouse, or the county 
 gaol, old Ayliffe received in dignified silence. !N^ot so, 
 however, his son ; who, rising with ominous calmness from 
 the chair on which he had for some time been sitting, as it 
 were on thorns, and silent only out of habitual deference to 
 his father, approached Mr Oxley m two strides, seized him 
 by the collar with the hand of a giant, and before his 
 
16 NOW AND THEN. 
 
 astonished father could interpose, had dragged Mr Oxley 
 to the doorway, and, with a single jerk, flung him out into 
 the open air with a violence which sent him staggering 
 several yards, till he fell down at full length on the ground. 
 
 " Adam, Adam, what hast thou done?" commenced his 
 father, approaching his son with an astounded air. 
 
 ^' Nay, never mind we, father," muttered his son, vehe- 
 mently, standing with arms a-kimbo, and watching Mr 
 Oxley, with eyes flashing fury. ^' There, Master Oxley ; 
 show never here agam that wizened face of yours, or worse 
 may happen. Away! Back to the Castle, and tell him 
 that sent you here what you have received ! Off" ! out into 
 the road," he added, raising his voice, and stnding towards 
 Mr Oxley, wdio precipitately quitted the garden, " or I'll 
 teach you to speak of the workhouse again ! See that the 
 dogs lick not''"' — 
 
 "Adam! I charge thee — hold thy peace!" said the old 
 man, loudly and authoritatively, and advancing towards Mr 
 Oxley *, who, however, after muttering a few words, heard 
 by the old man, and glancing furiously at young Ayliffe, 
 hastily mounted his horse, which had been standing fastened 
 at the gate, and was soon out of hearing. About that time 
 in the ensuing day, he had contrived, during an interview 
 on business with the Earl, to intimate, as if casually only, 
 that the Aylifles, who owned the road-side cottage, had 
 received the liberal overtures made by Mr Oxley on his 
 Lordship's behalf, with expressions of coarse disrespect, and 
 even malignant hostility. Not a word, however, said 'My 
 Oxley of the violent treatment which he had received at the 
 
NOW AND THEN, 
 
 hands of young AylilFe ; nor did he deem it expedient, for 
 reasons of his own, to summon his assailant to answer before 
 the magistrates for what he had done. Would that the Earl 
 of Milverstoke had received the slightest inkling of the 
 occurrence of the day before, — of the spirit and temper in 
 which Mr Oxley's negotiations, if such they could be called, 
 had been carried on with the venerable yeoman. Such 
 information, however, was of course not to be expected from 
 Mr Oxley. Would-, then, that it had occurred to Ayliife or 
 his son to go resolutely up to the Castle, insist on seeing its 
 stern secluded lord, and apprise him of the insulting and 
 oppressive line of conduct which had been pursued on his 
 behalf. Mr Oxley, unless his denial had been believed, 
 would have fled blighted from the presence of his lord, who 
 would have told him in a voice of thunder to give an account 
 of his stewardship, for that he might be no longer steward. 
 But it fell not out so. Such a step was never dreamed of 
 by either of the Ayliffes ; who, on the contrary, rather 
 anxiously awaited some vindictive movement on the part 
 of Mr Oxley. He seemed, however, disposed to take 
 no notice of what had happened ; and the untoward 
 occurrence appeared not likely to be followed by its 
 apprehended consequences. 
 
 Ayliffe received no more molestation from Mr Oxley, or 
 any one else, with the view of compelling him to surrender 
 the poor remnant of his little patrimonial estate. That 
 gentleman probably thought it his wisest course, hoping that 
 distress might effect what negotiation had failed in, to bide 
 his time, as far as concerned the Earl's interests, with refer- 
 
18 NOW AND THEN. 
 
 ence to gahilng possession of AylifFe's cottage and the slip 
 of ground still remaining attached to it, and on which stood 
 the small orchard and garden which have been already men- 
 tioned. All the rest poor old AylifFe had been compelled to 
 dispose of with reluctance and agony, during the troubled 
 two years and a half, or thi-ee years, ensuing on his son's 
 marriage. Like any slave in the plantations worked that 
 son, from morning to night, with fond willingness, to sup- 
 port those who were so dear to him ; and being also stunu- 
 lated by an honourable ambition to preserve in his family 
 the cherished spot where the parents from whom he sprung 
 had been born, which, moreover, seemed infinitely enhanced 
 to him in value, now that he had become himself a father — 
 the father of yet another Adam AylifFe, for so the child had 
 been christened. But, alas ! the poor thmg gave no pro- 
 mise of its father's comeliness or strength, being, on the 
 contrary, small and feeble from its birth, and likely to be 
 reared, if at all, with difficulty. This little heir to misfor- 
 tune and misery, however, had yet a further claim on the 
 pity of every beholder ; for, in the momentary absence of 
 the woman intrusted with the care of it, on the occasion of 
 her being suddenly summoned to the bedside of its apparently 
 dying mother, the child fell from the chair on which it had 
 been hastily and imprudently left, occasioning mjuries, the 
 effects of which would remain through life. This last 
 occurrence grievously disturbed the equanmiity of even old 
 Ayliffe, and drove the more excitable temperament of his 
 son almost to frenzy. When the poor mother, too, heard 
 of what had happened — for how could it be concealed 
 
NOW AND THEN. 19 
 
 effectually ? — it caused a relapse which nearly proved fatal. 
 Here was wretchedness indeed ! and wretchedness of which 
 the sufferers saw no end ! Had it not been for the teaching 
 and example afforded by the father, young Ayliffe would 
 have fallen into a gloomy irreHgious humour, sullenly ques- 
 tioning the goodness and wisdom of Him without whose 
 knowledge and permission this sad blow had not descended 
 upon either parent or child. For a time, that which was 
 unaccountable in this visitation of Providence, seemed also 
 unreasonable and unjust ! To both his father and to Mr 
 Hylton, young Ayliffe once morosely declared, that the 
 spirit of a m^an could not bear flat injustice, come from ivJiom. it 
 might! and asked — ^What had this poor child done ? — what 
 had its mother ? — what had its father done to deserve such 
 an infliction ? " Questions, these, Adam," said Mr Hylton, 
 kmdly, but very gravely, " which millions upon millions of 
 mankind have asked, in their own various troubles, v/ho 
 soon afterwards saw causes showuig the wisdom and good- 
 ness which had permitted those troubles to happen, and 
 vindicating the justice by which they had been ordained. 
 Are you, Adam, the only one chastened by adverse visita- 
 tions from God?" mquired Mr Hylton earnestly, his eyes 
 filling with tears. '' Look at him who now addi'esses you : 
 why have my four children, whom I as dearly loved as ever 
 you loved this poor babe, been taken from me, and after 
 years of suffering, pain, and misery ? why do they now lie 
 mouldering into dust in yonder churchyard ?" 
 
 Adam's lip quivered; his heart was softened; and his 
 wife, in whose weak arms lay the injured infant, gently 
 
20 NOW AND THEN. 
 
 leaned down, and kissed its pale unconscious cheek, with 
 emotions which none but a mother could feel. To her, and 
 to her husband, their poor child became infinitely dearer 
 from this its misfortune, — it was enshrined, as it were, in 
 their very heart of hearts. Possibly, had it not suffered so 
 severely, it might never have been loved so dearly. 
 
NOW AND THEN. 21 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 The straits to which the AyHfFes were driven could not 
 escape the notice of the kind-hearted inhabitants of the 
 village, notwithstanding the stem reserve of the old man, 
 and the somewhat angry and proud impatience of the son ; 
 who had rejected several friendly offers of assistance, with a 
 morbid sensitiveness for which all considerate persons could 
 make ample allowance. He would not, he said, live on 
 charity, while he had health to work, and they could manage 
 to keep their own freehold house over their heads. It was, 
 however, very hard to sustain these proud feelings when he 
 looked at his father, and his emaciated wife, and thought of 
 her privations, borne with apparently a cheerful indiffer- 
 ence, which quite vanished the instant that his back was 
 turned. Many marks of substantial kindness were, with 
 delicate consideration, forced upon them from the parsonage ; 
 and whatever came, indeed, from that hallowed quarter, 
 young Ayliffe received with a kind of reverential gratitude. 
 Mr Hylton had no income except that derived from his 
 vicarage ; and being very easy in the matter of his tithes, 
 was sometimes not inconsiderably inconvenienced by the 
 dilatoriness with which they were paid. Yet his charities. 
 
22 
 
 NOW AND THEN. 
 
 substantial and unostentatious, failed not : good Mrs Hylton, 
 with her faithful housekeeper, made their cowslip, ginger, 
 and elderberry wine, ever in due season ; and many a bottle 
 of it had been carried by Mr Hylton hunself, on his visits 
 to those who needed it. He kept but one cow, which went 
 by the name of Every-one's-Cow ; because, as soon as suffi- 
 cient for the parsonage had been taken from what the good 
 cow yielded at milking-time, the remamder was at the ser- 
 vice of the poorer inhabitants of the village, who might 
 always be seen trudging for this purpose, pitcher ui hand, 
 towards the parsonage, morning and evening. 
 
 Ayliffe had told Mr Hylton, but only in general tenns, 
 of the coarse and offensive treatment which he had expe- 
 rienced from Mr Oxley ; and Mr Hylton was also thoroughly 
 aware of the fond tenacity with which old Adam climg to 
 the last link connectmg him with the soil, which Mr Oxley 
 would sever with such heartless and mde indifference. Mr 
 Hylton's best sympathies, indeed, were with the old yeoman, 
 whom he had from time to thne, with cordial alacrity, 
 assisted by loans of small sums of money, to enable him, as 
 the phrase runs, "to keep his head above water " as long 
 as possible. Mr Oxley was seen through and despised 
 by Mr Hylton. The former perfectly well knew the esti- 
 mation in which he was held by the latter; who, however, 
 for the sake of parish peace, exhibited a constramed but 
 perfectly dismterested civility, towards one who was invested 
 with so much authority as enabled him, when so disposed, 
 to turn tyrant over those whom Mr Hylton loved — his 
 poorer parishioners— with almost absolute impunity. He 
 
NOW AND THEN. 23 
 
 was not on such terms with Mr Oxley as would have war- 
 ranted interference between him and the AyHfFes, even had 
 there been any practical mode of doing so successfully. For, 
 indeed, what was Mr Hylton to do ? what could he prevent 
 Mr Oxley from doing ? The latter had planned an improve- 
 ment in the Earl's property, to which the acquisition of 
 Ayliffe's would be very conducive; and Mr Oxley had 
 used every exertion which had occurred to him, to eifect 
 his purpose, in vain. He professed no intention, as he 
 certainly had no power, to force Ayliffe to comply with 
 his wishes ; and, as the latter was fixedly resolved not to 
 part with his last sad shred of interest in his native soil, 
 till absolutely compelled to do so, Mr Hylton saw that, 
 whatever might be his wish, and his opinion of Mr Oxley's 
 diaracter, he could not interfere between them for any 
 practical purpose. He saw, alas ! but too clearly, that 
 the old man's grasp, however desperate, was very, very 
 feeble, and could not be long maintained, unless some deci- 
 sive and permanent change in his circumstances were to take 
 place. The sad inhabitants of the cottage were aware of 
 some efforts which Mr Hylton was making on behalf of the 
 younger Ayliffe ; for whom he was endeavouring to procure 
 a permanent situation, as a resident schoolmaster, in a school 
 conducted on a new plan, which Mr Hylton had been for 
 some time anxious to establish at Milverstoke. With what 
 tenacity did they cling to this solitary plank in the sea of 
 sorrow in which they were buffeting ! Yet were their hopes, 
 here, doomed to be disappointed; since Mr Oxley, deter- 
 mined to defeat young Ayliffe, brought forward a person as 
 
24 NOW AND THEN. 
 
 candidate for the office, whom, therefore, there was no possi- 
 bility of rejecting ; for the Earl of Milverstoke had given the 
 site for the school, and, through Mr Oxley, provided funds 
 for the building of it, and promised to contnbute largely to 
 its support. 
 
 Baffled here, Mr Hylton bethought himself of a similar 
 opening which was about to occur in an adjoining coimty ; 
 where, in the parish of a friend of his, a school was being 
 erected on a much larger scale than that in Milverstoke, 
 with a commensurate superiority of advantages to the per- 
 son who might be so fortunate as to obtain the appointment 
 of master. His move in this quarter, however, he did not 
 communicate to the Ayliffes, lest he should excite hopes 
 which might never be realised. His strenuously expressed 
 opinion in favour of AylifFe, his account of the family to 
 which he belonged, and of the exemplary father by whom 
 he had been brought up, and personal testimony to his qua- 
 lifications for the office, — were likely to have great weight 
 with the persons with whom Mr Hylton was thus good- 
 naturedly negotiating. He observed with pain the effects 
 which long-continued anxiety were producing in young Ay- 
 liffe ; on whose manly but harassed features he had not seen 
 a smile, nor any thing approaching to one, for many a long 
 day. He had become silent and reserved ; and Mr Hylton 
 feared lest a tendency to moroseness should be established, 
 such as it might be difficult to overcome ; for he learnt from 
 old Ayliffe that his son no longer seemed desu'ous of con- 
 versing with him, as formerly, on their circumstances ; and 
 when the old man read aloud the usual morning and even- 
 
NOW AND THEN. 25 
 
 ing chapter in the Bible, he could not but observe that his 
 son lacked much of that serious and earnest attentiveness 
 with which he had, from his youth up, joined in the family 
 devotions. And an effort it appeared also to poor Mrs 
 Ayliffe to do so ; who, while holding her crippled child in 
 her lap, would fix her eyes on the moody face of her hus- 
 band, too well knowing, the while, how and whither his 
 thoughts were wandering. 
 
 One night, as she told Mr Hylton with sobs and tears, 
 her husband started up in bed, and, after sitting in silence 
 for some time beside her, said, 
 
 " And all this, Sarah, has come upon us from the chari- 
 table deed my good father did do towards another, in 
 giving security ! Who can make me believe that that is 
 just? Sarah, Sarah, this is very strange ! " 
 
 This she mentioned also to old Ayliffe, who received it 
 with stem expressions of sorrow. 
 
 " With me," said he, " my son will not now hold talk, 
 nor scarcely listen to me, with the duty which he oweth to 
 an old father, who hath ever striven to teach him aright ! 
 But, Sarah, be not thou guided by him herein. It is a 
 spirit undevout and rebeUious, and may be grievously chas- 
 tised by God. I never said before, Sarah, be not guided by 
 thy husband — but now I do ; for when he thus speaks, it is 
 not he, but Satan through him : and God deliver my son 
 and thy husband Adam, from this peril to his soul ! " 
 
 On the same day on which the old man thus rebuked the 
 distrustfulness of his son, his own fortitude was not a little 
 tried by an incident sadly indicative of his rapidly-failing 
 
26 NOW AND THEN. 
 
 circumstances. One bj one head been parted with the 
 chief articles of furniture which had for so many years 
 made their little sitting-room a model of neatness and com- 
 fort, — articles which had gone, with as much privacy as might 
 be, by the carrier's cart, to be disposed of in the ncigh- 
 bouiing market-town. With aching hearts the owners 
 saw them removed, and with heavy misgivings received 
 the petty produce of them. Still was there, however, in 
 the corner, the clock which has akeady been mentioned ; 
 old-fashioned, and in a dark oaken case, curiously cai-ved, 
 and w^hich had stood on the same spot, going tich^ tick^ with 
 exemplary regularity, for more than half a centuiy, but was 
 that evening to cease performing its monitory functions in 
 the cottage : having been sold by old Ayliffe, during the day, 
 for three pomids, to a chandler living in the village, thi'iving, 
 and just married ; and who was presently coming to fetch 
 away his purchase in liis cart. The top of the clock had, 
 during all the years which have been mentioned, formed the 
 resting-place of the family Bible before spoken of; a large 
 old-fashioned volume, with heavy brass clasps and corners, 
 kept, by frequent handling, in constant brightness. Quaint 
 and mysterious were the pictures illustrating the text of the 
 Holy Volume ; and by how many of the xVyliffe family, now 
 dead and gone, had that volume been read, and hung over, 
 with solemn and enchaining interest ! Yet so carefully had 
 it ever been preserved, that not a leaf w^as missing, or bore 
 noticeable marks of injury. The spare leaves at the 
 beginning and the end, w^ere covered with entries of a 
 century's births, deaths, and marriages among the AyHifes. 
 
NOW xVND THEN. 2? 
 
 There seemed scarcely room for above three or four more ; 
 yet one would soon be required, of another bh'th ! — and, as 
 old Ayliffe glanced at the abridged space remaming, he 
 sadly wondered whether room would be found for a certain 
 brief entry by-and-by, concerning himself ! 
 
 It is impossible to deny that, as old Ayliffe sat by the dull 
 red fire on the hearth, gazing at the old familiar face of the 
 clock, knowing that he did so for the last time in his life, 
 and that on the ensuing day that old clock would be standing, 
 with its grave methodical tich^ iick^ amidst a new circle of 
 faces at the chandler's, its new proprietor, he felt an inex- 
 pressible melancholy. Never would three pounds have been 
 so precious as at that moment, presenting themselves to 
 avert the coming spoliation! But it was not to be; the 
 clock must go ; and those whom it had so long served, so 
 long guided and warned, must do without it. On that 
 evening Ayliffe had read to his daughter-in-law the last 
 chapter of Job; the preceding ones having been read 
 regularly every evening, from the first chapter. Old Ayliffe, 
 as had ever been his wont, read aloud the Bible : and 
 methinks it was a subject for a keen-observing painter, to 
 see the old man, and his son and daughter, in that their 
 partially stripped cottage, awaiting its entire dismanthng, 
 nay, its transfer to strangers, — the first reading with grave 
 energy, and the others earnestly listening, to the sublime 
 book of Job. Ayliffe's voice now and then trembled some- 
 what while reading passages exactly applicable to his own 
 situation and cii'cumstances ; but, generally speaking, he 
 discharged his duty with dignified composure and firmness, 
 
28 NOW AND THEN. 
 
 albeit with a certain rough and quaint simplicity. As he 
 finished the last verse of the last chapter, and closed the 
 book, — 
 
 " Ah, good father !" said Mrs AylifFe, with a sigh, " how 
 happy and grand Job must have been at the last ! I wish 
 that such things would happen to those who soiTowfiilly read 
 his griefs and trials !" 
 
 Old Ayliffe remained silent for some time ; and then said, 
 looking at her with a grave reproving air, 
 
 " Sarah, didst thou notice that naught is said in this last 
 chapter concerning Job's wife ?" 
 
 " No, good father — ^but now I do," she replied — " And 
 why is it?" 
 
 " There is a reason for it, Sarah ; that thou may est rely 
 on. She perhaps was not let into her husband's prospeiity 
 and rejoicing," — he looked at her keenly, — " because she 
 had said to him in his trouble, when God's hand was heavy 
 on him. Curse God^ and die. And these thuags, Sarah, He 
 forgetteth not." 
 
 His daughter-in-law raised her hand to her eyes, and 
 submitted to the old man's kind and calm reproof in tearful 
 silence ; for she remembered a hasty expression of her own, 
 in his presence, some day or two before, which, in spmt, had 
 fallen not far short of the impious language of Job's wife. 
 While they were thus talkmg, was heard the nimbling of 
 approaching cart-wheels, on which AylifFe rose and went to 
 the door ; and shading his eyes with liis hand, as he looked up 
 the road, saw that it was the chandler's cart coming for the 
 clock. On this he returned rather suddenly, to await the 
 
NOW AND THEN. 29 
 
 moment of his friend's departure; gazing with a sort of 
 fondness at the poor old clock's face : " Good-bye, good-bye/' 
 said he, within himself, " I do not willingly bid thee go ; but 
 go thou must : and how soon we must follow thee, and quit 
 this, our little home, who can tell ? " Now approached 
 to the door the two men who had come for the clock, 
 which they removed very carefully ; AylifFe scarcely open- 
 ing his lips the while, but looking on in troubled silence. 
 At length the business being ended, the men bade him 
 respectfully "Good evening;" the cart rattled heavily 
 away ; and Ayliffe gazed at the corner then standing- 
 vacant for the first time during half a century, with moist 
 eyes and unutterable feelings. 
 
 How gloomily did all this herald in the approaching 
 Christmas ! 
 
 All hail, thou season of rightful, but solemn and elevating- 
 joy! Oh, what EVENT, gracious, stupendous, and awful, 
 dost thou not commemorate ? What but the mysterious, yet 
 foretold, advent of the Almighty Eedeemer of mankind, the 
 joy and glory of heaven and earth ! In the wrapt con- 
 templation, behold the very dust of earth become instinct 
 with heavenly intelligence : even as the stars sang together 
 for joy ! Let a universal HOSANNAH fill the hearts and 
 voices of mankind. For He came ! and was God with 
 Us ; dwelling in the flesh ! With us ! Here ! on this 
 dim speck, amidst the bewildering and inconceivable vast- 
 ness of the universe, singled out for such purpose in the 
 unsearchable wisdom of the Most High ! Angels unseen ! 
 bow with us, your present dust-clad brethren, your heads in 
 
30 NOW AND THEN. 
 
 awe profound ! Together let us celebrate this ^Mystery, 
 saying, " Glory to God in the highest ; and on earth, peace, 
 GOOD-AVILL TOWARDS MEN ! " Thus, heaven-kindled, is 
 the joy ousness of Christmas: soul-elevating: heart-opening. 
 Therefore do all Christian people welcome this solemnly 
 cheerful season; their hearts being first prostrate before 
 God, and then expanding towards man, in deeds of charity 
 and virtue. 
 
 But the coming of this hallowed season cannot, alas ! 
 banish gloom, poverty, and wretchedness, — no, not even for 
 one day — from among mankind. The great and the hmnble, 
 the distmguished and the obscure, the rich and the poor, 
 the gifted and the simple, may alike have their happy or 
 their miserable Christmas! Be the season, therefore, 
 approached with mingled fear and hope ; and, when past, 
 regarded with pious reflection, with cheerful submission, 
 and reverential gratitude. 
 
 How bleak and bhghting was to the Ayliffes the aspect 
 of the coming Christmas ! How different the feelings with 
 which father and son regarded it ! It is not to be denied 
 that there was becommg evident a great difference between 
 their views and feelings ; those of the one tending towards 
 a sullen intolerance of that adversity, which the other bore 
 with faithful humility and resignation. During the week 
 preceding, there had occurred between old Ayliffe and his 
 son, their first serious dispute and misunderstanding ; and 
 it arose as follows. Anxiety and privation were doing 
 their work conspicuously upon the health and appearance of 
 Mrs Ayliffe, who was shortly expecting to become again a 
 
NOW AND THEN. 31 
 
 mother ; and, judging from a former occasion, with what a 
 prospect before her ! The sight of her sweet but careworn 
 face was to her husband agony insupportable ; and it sent 
 her good father-m-law often to liis knees in private. The 
 doctor who had attended her before, was again engaged ; 
 and never left her without speaking of the necessity of 
 nourishing food, which alone, he said, would go far to help 
 her through her coming trouble. The son would listen to 
 this with a quivering lip and a full heart ; inwardly ex- 
 claiming, as the doctor spoke, '^ Nourishing food ! Heaven 
 help thee, dear Sarah, where is it to be got?'' With 
 these thoughts in his mind, burthening and depressing it, he 
 went one day to his work at a farmer's, at some distance 
 from Milverstoke, having only one companion the whole 
 day long : but that companion appearing goodnatured and 
 communicative, the frank young Ayliife could not refrain 
 from talking about that which was upperaiost in his thoughts 
 — the feeble condition of his wife, and her doctor's constant 
 recommendation of nourishing food. " And why do not you 
 get it, if you care for her?" inquired his companion, with 
 a surprised aii', resting, a moment from his work. 
 
 " Surely," quoth poor Ayliffe, " you should ask me why 
 I do not get one of the stars out of the sky. Is meat to be 
 picked up in the high-road ? " 
 
 " No ; not in the high-road," said the other, drily, " but 
 there's dainty eating for the sick and the gentle to be had — 
 elsewhere !" 
 
 In plain English, AyHffe's new friend pointed at game ; 
 speaking most temptingly of hare, above all other sorts of 
 
32 NOW AND THEN. 
 
 game, as a dainty dish, wlictlier roast or stewed, for those 
 that were sick and delicate ; and assured AylifFe that his 
 (the speaker's) wife had Uved secretly on hare all through 
 her time of trouble, and had never in her life thriven so 
 well ; for naught was so nourishing as hare's flesh. Poor 
 AylifFe listened to this, and much more, with but too willing 
 an ear, though clean contrary to all his own notions, and 
 those which he knew to be entertained by his father. He 
 resisted but very faintly the arguments of his new friend ; 
 who, indeed, fairly staggered Ayliffe by asking him whether 
 he thought that he did wrong, if he caught a hedgehog, a 
 weasel, or a snake in the field or hedge of another ; and if 
 not, why was it different with a hare ? Much conversation 
 had they of this sort ; in the course of which poor Ayhffe, in 
 the frank simplicity of his natm-e, gave such a movmg pic- 
 ture of his wife's necessities, as seemed greatly to mterest his 
 companion ; who said that in truth, and as luck would have 
 it, he happened to have by him a very fine hare, which was 
 greatly at Ayliffe's service. After much hesitation he, with 
 many thanks, accepted the gift ; and, accompanying his new 
 friend to his cottage, at the close of their day's work received 
 into his possession the promised hare, (a finer one certainly 
 was hardly to have been seen,) and made his way homeward 
 with his perilous present, under cover of the thickening 
 shades of night. What dismal misgivings he had as he went 
 along ! How often he resolved either to return the hare to 
 the giver, or fling it over the hedge as he passed ! For he 
 was aware of his danger : there being no part of England 
 where game was more strictly preserved, more closely 
 
NOW AND THEN. 33 
 
 looked after, or poachers more severely punished than at 
 Milverstoke. He thought, however, of his wife, and of the 
 relish with which she must partake of this hare ; and by the 
 inspiriting aid of considerations such as these, he nerved 
 himself to encounter her suspicions, and his father's rebuke. 
 And to be sure, a sad scene ensued on his reaching home ; 
 where he foimd his father and wife anxiously awaiting his 
 protracted arrival. 
 
 '' Sarah," said he, as he entered, with a flustered air, 
 " here is a present that I have for thee," and he placed 
 before her what he had brought, scarcely daring to glance at 
 his father ; who, however, instantly took the alarm, demand- 
 ing to know how, and when, and from whom he had gotten 
 the hare that he had brought home. His son said that it 
 was a gift, but refused to say who had given it to him. This 
 startled his father still more ; and more pressing he became 
 to know how his son had obtained the hare. 
 
 " Adam ! Adam !" said the old man sternly, " thou hast 
 gone very wrong in this matter, and thy face shows the 
 trouble which it hath cost thee to do it ! I will have none of 
 this hare in my house. Strange doings are on foot truly ; 
 and of a sudden," he added, sighing, ^' is clean forgotten all 
 that ever I have tried to teach ! " 
 
 " Well, since it must be so," replied his son, somewhat 
 doggedly, " let no more noise be made about this hare ; 
 but let it only be quietly eaten by Sarah there — and, it may 
 be, I shall not bring another." 
 
 Mrs Ayliffe kissed her husband, and grasped her father- 
 in-law's hand, earnestly, but in vain, trying to pacify them. 
 
 D 
 
'64 NOW AND THEN. 
 
 Old AylifFe, however, was inexorable, and spoke far more 
 sternly than either of them had ever heard him speak be- 
 fore ; till, indeed, he had spurred his son's temper into 
 unwonted heat and violence. 
 
 " I am tired, and so should we all be, of being beggars, 
 and living on charity," said he with a kind of fierceness. 
 
 ^' Better be beggar, Adam, than robber," replied his 
 father, gravely. 
 
 " I am no robber !" said his son, with flushed cheek and 
 flashing eye. 
 
 All this while the hare lay on the floor, in the midst of 
 them, there being no light in the cottage except the low 
 niddy one proceeding from the peat fire. After gazing for 
 some time with gloomy steadfastness at his son, old Aylifle 
 rose from his stool, took up the hare, and walked with it 
 towards the door. 
 
 " Why, what art thou going to do, father, with that 
 hare ? " inquired his son, amazedly. 
 
 " To bury it," replied the old man, sternly. 
 
 His son made no answer ; and, without speaking even to 
 his wife, strode out of the cottage, got into the high-road, 
 and paced up and down it, walking to a considerable dis- 
 tance, in a state of unprecedented agitation and anger. 
 At length, however, he returned somewhat calmed; and 
 finding his father and his wife sitting up, awaiting his 
 return, and cowering chillily over the nearly extinct fire, 
 his heart suddenly softened at the sight of them, and he 
 could not return their fond greeting, for emotion. 
 
 " Come, Adam, my dear son !" quoth the old man, grasp- 
 
NOW AND THEN. -^^ 
 
 ing him aiFectionatelj by the hand, " mischief thou didst 
 not intend, I verily believe ; but mischief and wrong hast 
 thou done nevertheless. But now are we friends : and get 
 thee to bed, and vex me thus no more, dear Adam ! Meddle 
 not again with game, which in these times is verily like 
 hell-fire, the least touch of which burns terribly. That hare 
 haunts me, though I have put it away, Adam. Nay — it 
 much misgives me that we have not heard the last of yon 
 poor hare, buried though she be !" 
 
 ^' Listen, dear Adam, to this," said his wife, throwing her 
 arms round her husband's neck; ''never, though I die of 
 hunger, will I touch game which I know not how thou didst 
 come by — nay, I will not, Adam, lest we get into trouble, 
 and do anger God 1" 
 
 These last words made her husband glance suddenly to- 
 wards her as if he would have spoken ; but he restrained 
 himself, and they retired to their little room. 
 
 Poor old Ayliffe's words overnight, were prophetic. 
 Scarcely had they sat down to their scanty breakfast, the 
 next morning, when two constables entered the cottage, with 
 a warrant against young Ayliffe for poaching, as they said. 
 The truth was, that he had been miserably entrapped into 
 accepting the hare as a gift, by one who, having sent a 
 companion to watch him home with it, went immediately to 
 inform against him, in order to get half the penalty, if any 
 were awarded, as prescribed by the statute ; and who should 
 be at the justice's, on some matter of business, when the 
 waiTant was applied for, but Mr Oxley, who quickly saw 
 what a lever this occurrence afforded him, wherewith to 
 
36 NOW AND THEN. 
 
 force the AylifFes into sniTcndering their cottage, and so 
 allowing the long -sought improvements in the Earl's estate 
 to be at once effectuated. The prisoner at first was about 
 to resist, infuriated by a faint shriek of his wife, who fell 
 senseless into the arms of the agitated old Ayliffe ; and had 
 the young man resisted, his prodigious strength would, in 
 spite of the staves of the constables, have made him their 
 match : and who could have answered for the result ? But 
 a miserable groan from his father, accompanying the words, 
 " Go, dear lad 1 go: and I'll follow thee presently! " brought 
 him to his senses ; and he peaceably, but despairingly, accom- 
 panied the officers. The only words which he uttered to 
 them, were a request not to go through the village, and 
 they complied. 
 
 The matter would soon have been settled at the justice's, 
 before whom the case was proved in a trice : Ayliffe con- 
 fessing that he had had the hare in his possession, (such 
 being the offence with which he stood charged,) and honestly 
 telling what had passed between him and his old father, on 
 the subject. The punishment was a penalty of five pounds, 
 or three months' imprisonment in the house of correction. 
 
 " Nay, but I have not five farthings," said Ayliffe, des- 
 perately; "and if I be sent to prison, it will go hard with 
 my poor wife — that's all! " 
 
 The magistrate, Sir Henry Harrington, looked at him 
 kindly ; and after a pause, read him a serious lecture on the 
 consequences of listening to bad advice, and the heinous 
 nature of an offence against the game laws, which, his Wor- 
 ship said, were the only things that prevented the country 
 
NOW AND THEN. 3? 
 
 from becoming barbarous ; on which accomit the law was 
 properly very strict — but, alas ! not haLT strict enough to put 
 down the enormous vice of poaching. 
 
 Wliile this and much more was being said, some one, at 
 the instance of Mr Oxley, who dared not be seen in the 
 matter by the prisoner, offered to pay the penalty of five 
 pounds, if his father would promise to sell his cottage to the 
 Earl of Milverstoke. 
 
 "No! I'll rot in jail first ! " said young Ayliffe, fiercely. 
 "Mayhap I now see how I got here ! " This he said with a 
 strange expression of countenance. 
 
 At this moment arrived Mr Hylton, accompanied by old 
 Ayliffe ; who, on his son's being taken from the cottage, had 
 gone to the vicarage, and told every thing that had hap- 
 pened : and, by his artlessness and misery, so moved Mr 
 Hylton's feelings, that he took five pounds with him, and 
 borrowing a gig from the sm'veyor in the village, drove off 
 in it, accompanied by old Ayliffe, and arrived at the magis- 
 trate's just in time to save poor young Ayliffe from being 
 committed to prison for three months, as a rogue and vaga- 
 bond! according to the statute. 
 
 " I have reason to believe," said Mr Hylton to his brother 
 magistrate, " that this poor soul hath fallen into a trap set 
 for him, and hath done it ignorantly, and from mere love of 
 a sick wife ; wherefore I will pay the penalty for him." 
 
 At this young Ayliffe could not restrain himself, but 
 turned his head away, and wept bitterly. 
 
 " I wish," said Sir Henry, with some emotion, " that it 
 were fitting for me to join in paying this fine, or that I 
 
38 NOW AND THEN. 
 
 could remit it : but my duty, as Mr Hylton can testify, is, 
 under the statute, imperative." 
 
 So this sad affair ended. Mr Hylton sternly desired 
 young- Ayliffe to be in attendance at the parsonage, at nine 
 O'clock on the next morning ; and then drove home the 
 elder Ayliffe, who could scarce speak for sorrow. 
 
 " These five pounds, Adam," said Mr Hylton, " are not 
 a light matter to me, for I cannot get in my tithes without 
 great trouble, and neither of you will be able, I fear, ever 
 to repay it me ; that, however, I ask not, but freely for- 
 give your son, whom I will, with God's blessing, read a 
 lesson in the morning that he shall not forget." 
 
 With this they ahghted at the parsonage, where old 
 Ayliffe was obliged to swallow a little refreshment ; and 
 then he made his way to his desolate cottage, where he was 
 some two hours afterwards joined by his son, wearied with 
 a fourteen miles' walk, (for the Justice's was seven miles 
 off,) and the agitation and mortification of the day. No re- 
 proaches had he to encounter from his father, Avhom he 
 found on his knees, in his bed-room, with his hands clasped 
 over his heart ! 
 
 By nine o'clock on the ensuing morning, poor young 
 Ayliffe was standing in the little library of Mr Hylton, who 
 was greatly moved when he saw the woe-struck but manly 
 face of the culprit. 
 
 " Come, come, I am not going to make a mighty business 
 of this, xidam," said Mr Hylton, after compelling him to sit 
 down, " because I see that you feel deeply the A\Tong that 
 you have done. You knew better, Adam, and terribly for- 
 
NOW AND THEN. 39 
 
 got yourself ; — and see the consequences ! Your father 
 never had to bow his good head with shame before yester- 
 day ; and then, through no fault of his ; and your wife, I 
 dare say, has suffered not a little on this account." 
 
 Ayliffe's lip quivered, and presently his tears could not 
 be any longer forced back. 
 
 "How is she, Adam, this morning?" said Mr Hylton, 
 gently, observing his emotion. 
 
 After a few moments' pause, Ayliffe faltered, " Terribly 
 ill, sir!" 
 
 " I was afraid that it might be so ; but we must look 
 after her : and indeed Mrs Hylton is, 1 hope, by this time 
 there, with some small matters suitable for your poor wife's 
 situation." 
 
 " Sir — sir !" said Ayliffe, with sudden vehemence, after 
 long struggling against emotions which seemed likely to 
 choke him, " you are killing me : I cannot bear it ! You are 
 too good, and I must go away ! I cannot look you in the 
 face, sir ! — I'm quite heart-broken, sir ! " 
 
 " Give me your hand, Adam," said Mr Hylton, heartily, 
 rising and approaching him. ''You are restored to my 
 good opinion : great allowances were to be made for you ; 
 and I believe that you acted from naught but love to a suf- 
 fering wife. And now," he continued, opening a drawer, 
 and taking out a letter, " see how nearly you have seriously 
 injured yourself — and yet what a prospect there is of better 
 days for you ! Here have I been doing all that I could to 
 get you made the master of a school in the next county, 
 and this letter tells me that I was on the point of succeed- 
 
40 NOW AND THEN. 
 
 ing ; when, behold ! you arc suddenly a convicted poacher ! 
 I have miserable fears that you have undone all ; but hope 
 that what passed yesterday has not yet been carried into the 
 next county. I am gomg to the rector, w4io is an old friend 
 of mine, to tell him the true state of the case, and w^hat 
 great allowances ought to be made for you. He is a very 
 feeling gentleman, and I may prevail on him to give you 
 the place, that I have so long striven to get for you ; but it 
 must be only by-and-by, when this matter may be some- 
 what blown over. I have to prepare for my Sunday duty, 
 and it is inconvenient for me to leave home : yet this thing- 
 is so urgent, and so much for your good, that I am going to 
 ride over this very day — nay, my horse and saddlebags are 
 even now being got in readiness." 
 
 It is in vain to attempt describing the feelings of mingled 
 gratitude, fear, hope, and vexation w^tli Avhich all this w^as 
 listened to by young AylifFe. 
 
 " You know that I am dealing kindly by you," continued 
 Mr Hylton ; " and now make me, and keep when you make 
 it, a promise — that you will never, knowingly, speak again 
 to a poacher, or receive game from him, or by means of 
 him ; nor let any unlaw^fully come into your hands or your 
 house." 
 
 " As I am a true man, sir, for all that's just happened, 
 I never w^ill, sir ; even though we be all starving !" replied 
 Ayliffe, with energy. 
 
 " God will not permit you to starve, Adam, depend upon 
 it : you shall not, at least, while we live at the parsonage : 
 so now^, my poor friend, go l^ack home, and comfort your 
 
NOW AND THEN. 41 
 
 wife and father as well as you may. I have a long day's 
 ride before me." 
 
 So they parted. About ten minutes afterwards, Ayliffe, 
 trudging homeward, was overtaken by Mr Hylton on horse- 
 back, in travelling trim, having thus made good his word, 
 and bemg already on his errand of goodness. 
 
 " God bless thee, Adam !" said he, as he passed smartly 
 along. 
 
 ^' God Almighty bless you, sir ! — and thank you ! " 
 faltered Ayliife, almost inaudibly, taking off his hat, and 
 gazing bare-headed after his benefactor till he was hid 
 from his sight. 
 
 How little either of those two thought, at that mo- 
 ment, of what was ordained to happen before they met 
 again ! 
 
 When Ayliffe reached the cottage, he found that Mrs 
 Hylton had not long before quitted it, having spent half an 
 hour by his wife's bed-side, and left with her two bottles of 
 cowslip, and one of port wine, together with some rice, tea, 
 sugar, two rabbits, and nearly a quarter of a cheese, all of 
 which had been eagerly carried by the housekeeper who 
 accompanied her, and who had known poor Mrs Ayliffe, as 
 has been seen, in her happier days at the parsonage. When 
 Ayliffe had been made aware of the visit of his gentle bene- 
 factress, he stood gazing in tearful silence at the prints of 
 her slender feet, in the snow, homeward ; and his heart was 
 so full that he could have fallen down and kissed them, as 
 traces of an angel's visit. 
 
 The next morning he presented himself, as usual, to his 
 
42 NOW AND THEN. 
 
 employers ; who, however, rejected his services, having 
 heard of the atrocity of which he had just been convicted, 
 and being moreover dii'ectly mider the influence of Mr 
 Oxley, from whose noble master had been purloined the 
 hare Avhich lay buried behind the cottage : having attained 
 thereby a distinction possibly never conferred upon hare 
 before. 
 
 Three days clasped before Mr Hylton returned; and 
 when he did, it was with a sad and averted countenance 
 that he passed the cottage, at a quick pace : for his friend 
 had, not unreasonably, deemed the conviction for poaching 
 to be an insuperable obstacle in the way of receiving Ayliife 
 as the master of the newly established school. Still the 
 resolute kindness of Mr Hylton led him to persevere, though 
 with faint hopes ; and he determined to get up, if possible, 
 a testimonial to poor young Ayliffe's irreproachable character 
 from the leading people in the village. On the Sunday Mr 
 Hylton observed that he was absent from church, and sent 
 the clerk, at the close of the service, to old AylifFe, who was 
 in his usual place, but with a very dejected look, desirmg 
 him to attend for a moment in the vestry. AYlien he ap- 
 peared, Mr Hylton shook him warmly by the hand, told 
 him of the disappointment which he had experienced, and 
 seemed much affected when the old man explained to him 
 that it was pure shame only that had kept his son from 
 church, seeing that "all present would have had their eyes 
 on him. Mr Hylton also heard with anxiety that the young 
 man had continued in a very moody humour, and had let 
 fall, — as he had supposed, unnoticed by his father, — certain 
 
NOW AND THEN. 43 
 
 expressions which had somewhat disquieted him ; for they 
 were of an miforgiving tendency. 
 
 " Talk you to him, Ayliffe, faithfully," said Mr Hylton, 
 " and in a day or two's time I will come and speak to him. 
 But I wish first to see whether I may yet be able to bring 
 you cheering news about the school." 
 
 And Ayliffe did talk to his son, often and seriously ; and 
 so were they engaged, on the evening but one before 
 Christmas, when a low rumbling sound, coming from the 
 direction of the high-road, which, as has been already ex- 
 plained, ran at only a little distance from the front of the 
 cottage, caused both of them to walk towards the door ; 
 where they stood, just as a coroneted traveUing carriage and 
 four, followed by two others, turned the corner, being those 
 of Lord Alkmond, the only son and heir of the Earl of Mil- 
 verstoke, and some friends coming down to the Castle for 
 the Christmas holidays. 
 
 " Stay, Adam, and pay respect to the young lord," quoth 
 the old man to his son, preparing to uncover. " Honour to 
 whom honour is due ! " 
 
 u -^Q — I ^{\\ not, if even thou, mine own father, went on 
 thy knees," said his son sternly, walking inward ; while 
 old AyUffe, standing rigidly erect in the doorway, respect- 
 fully took off his broad hat, exhibiting as fine a bald head, 
 fringed with silvery hair, as ever had been uncovered to the 
 young lord ; who, catching sight of him, returned the 
 courtesy in a hasty military fashion (for he was an officer 
 in the Guards) as they dashed past. He knew no more than 
 the beautiful boy w^iom he was at the moment fondling, or 
 
44 NOW AND THEN. 
 
 the lovely lady who sate beside him, of the injurious and 
 oiFensive proceedings of Mr Oxley towards the owner of that 
 cottage. 
 
 "There will be rare doings, by-and-by, at the Castle, 
 I warrant me," said the old man, retiring into the cottage. 
 " They be like to make a merry Christmas on't !" — and he 
 sighed. 
 
NOW AND THEN. 45 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 MiLVERSTOKE Castle was a magnificent structure, wor- 
 thy of its superb situation, which was on the slope of a 
 forest, stretching down to the sea-shore. Seen from the 
 sea, especially by moonlight, it had an imposing and pic- 
 turesque aspect ; but from no part of the surrounding land 
 was it visible at all, owing to the great extent of wood- 
 land in which it was embosomed. The Earl of Milverstoke, 
 then lord of that stately residence, had a personal appear- 
 ance and bearing which might be imagined somewhat in 
 unison with its leading characteristics. He was tall and 
 thin, and of erect figure; his countenance was refined 
 and mtellectual, though of a stern expression; and his 
 features were comely : his hair had been for some years 
 changed from jet-black into iron-gray. His bearing was 
 lofty, sometimes even to repulsiveness; his manner was 
 frigid; his temper and spirit were haughty and self-reliant. 
 Opposition to his will, equally in great or small things, 
 rendered that arbitrary will inflexible, whatever might be 
 the consequence or sacrifice ; for he gave himself credit for 
 never acting from impulse, but always from discretion and 
 deliberation. He was a man of powerful intellect, extensive 
 
46 NOW AND THEN. 
 
 knoAvledge, and high principle — and, so far, admirably fitted 
 for public affairs ; in which, indeed, he had borne a conspi- 
 cuous part, till his imperious and exacting temper rendered 
 him intolerable to his colleagues, and objectionable even to 
 his sovereign : from whose service he had retired^ (to use a 
 courteous word,) in disdainful disgust, some five years 
 before being presented to the reader. He possessed a vast 
 fortune, and two or three princely residences in various 
 parts of the kingdom. Of these, Milverstoke was the prin- 
 cipal ; and its stern solitude suiting his gloomy humour, 
 he had betaken himself to it on quitting public life. He 
 had been a widower for many years, and, since becoming- 
 such, had been alienated from the distinguished family of 
 his late Countess, whose ardent and sensitive disposition 
 they believed to have been utterly crushed by the iron des- 
 potism of an unfeeling and domineering husband. What- 
 ever foundation there might have been for this supposition, 
 its effects contributed to embitter the feelings of the Earl, 
 and strengthen a tendency to misanthropy. Still his cha- 
 racter had fine features. He was most munificent ; the 
 very soul of honour ; a perfect gentleman ; and of irre- 
 proachable morals. He professed a firm belief in Chris- 
 tianity, and was exemplary in the discharge of what he 
 conceived to be the duties which it imposed upon him. He 
 would listen to the inculcation of the Christian virtues of 
 humility, gentleness, and forgiveness of injury, with a kind 
 of stern complacency ; unaware, all the while, that they 
 no more existed within himself than fire within the sculp- 
 tured marble. Most of his day-time he spent in his library, 
 
NOW AND THEN. 47 
 
 or iu solitary drives, or walks along the sea-shore, or in the 
 woods. Unfortunately, he took no personal part, nor felt 
 any particular interest, in the management of his large 
 revenues and extensive private affairs ; trusting them, as 
 has been already intimated, implicitly to others. When he 
 rode through the village, which lay sheltered near the con- 
 fines of the woodland in which his castle was situated, he 
 appeared to have no interest in it or its inhabitants, though 
 nearly all of them were his own tenantry. His agent, Mr 
 Oxley, was their real master. 
 
 Mr Hylton was one of his lordship's occasional chap- 
 lains, but by no means on intimate terms with him ; for 
 that, the vicar's firm independent character unfitting him. 
 While he acknowledged the commanding talents of the 
 Earl, his lordship was, on his part, fully aware of Mr 
 Hylton's strong intellect, and the pure and lofty spirit in 
 which he devoted himself to his spiritual duties. The good 
 vicar of Milverstoke knew not what was meant by the fear 
 of man, as his stately parishioner had had many opportuni- 
 ties of observing; and, in short, Mr Hylton was a much less 
 frequent visitor at the castle than might have been sup- 
 posed, and was warranted by his position and proximity. 
 
 Some of the Earl's frigid reserve towards him was possi- 
 bly occasioned by the cordial terms of intimacy which had 
 existed between him and the late Countess ; — a lovely and 
 exemplary personage, who, living in comparative retirement 
 at Milverstoke, while her lord was immersed m political 
 life, had consulted Mr Hylton constantly on the early edu- 
 cation of her two children. The Earl had married late in 
 
48 NOW AND THEN. 
 
 life, being nearly twenty years older than his Countess, who 
 had brought him one son and one daughter. The former 
 partook largely of his father's character, but in a somewhat 
 mitigated form ; he was quicker in taking offence than the 
 Earl, but had not his implacability. If he should succeed 
 to the paternal titles and estates, he would be the first in- 
 stance of such direct succession for nine generations: the 
 Earl himself having been the third son of a second son. 
 The family was of high antiquity, and its Saxon and 
 Norman blood had several times intermingled with that of 
 royalty. 
 
 His daughter. Lady Emily Amaranthe, was, when pre- 
 sented to the reader, nearly entering on her eighteenth 
 year, and promised to be, as had been her mother, one of 
 the most beautiful women in England. In her were the 
 lofty spirit of her father, and the gentle virtues of her 
 mother, blended in such a manner as to be gradually investing 
 her with considerable influence over her stem surviving 
 parent : for that occasional firmness secretly pleased him in 
 a beautiful girl, which, in one of his own sex, would have 
 served only to call into action an over-mastenng manifesta- 
 tion of the same quality. 
 
 On his son, the Lord Viscount Alkmond, all the EarFs 
 hopes and anxieties were centred: he had been watched 
 with exquisite solicitude from his birth. He was, as has 
 been already said, an officer in the army ; and had been for 
 but a short time married to a very lovely person j the heiress 
 and representative of a family of the highest distinction ; 
 and, to the EarFs unutterable delight, she had brought 
 
NOW AND THEN. 49 
 
 her lord a son and heir, within a year after their 
 marriage. 
 
 Lord Alkmond's spirits had never been buoyant ; but he 
 had returned from his continental tour with a perceptible 
 gloom of manner, for which he assigned no reason : even his 
 marriage had only temporarily relieved his depression of 
 spirits ; and the return of it occasioned both his wife and 
 father considerable anxiety. Fond as was the Earl of his 
 son, it is strangely true that he had never quite made a 
 friend of that son ; the cause lying in a peculiar tempera- 
 ment of both, unfavourable to the growth of affectionate 
 confidence. They had had but one serious misunderstand- 
 ing, however, in their lives, and that had occurred about a 
 year before their being presented to the reader — when Lord 
 Alkmond astounded even his wealthy and munificent father, 
 by asking for a very large sum of money, at the same time 
 refusing even to answer any question concerning the desti- 
 nation of it. His manner somewhat alarmed, but more 
 irritated and offended the Earl, who peremptorily refused to 
 comply with what he deemed a monstrously unreasonable 
 request on the part of his son ; — and there had ever since 
 existed a certain uneasy feeling between them, which did 
 not, however, perceptibly affect their demeanour before 
 strangers. The Earl was haunted by the suspicion of a 
 post ohit bond ; but, from a variety of considerations, never 
 deigned to ask his son a question on the subject. 
 
 There were. Indeed, as old Ayliffe had supposed, grand 
 rejoicings at the Castle that Christmas, to celebrate the first 
 anniversary of the birth-day of the future heir to the Castle ; 
 
50 NOW AND THEN. 
 
 and many distinguished visitors had been invited, whose 
 equipages had thundered at intervals past old AylifFe's 
 cottage, for a day or two before that on which Lord Alk- 
 mond had passed it ; he having been detained in town by 
 mihtary business, rendered necessary by his having obtained 
 a somewhat extended leave of absence. 
 
 The rejoicings were not to be confined to the brilliant 
 circle assembled at the Castle. An order had gone forth 
 for corresponding festivities and holiday making among the 
 villagers and the surromiding tenantry; for all of which 
 Lord Milverstoke had most bountifully provided, after the 
 usual fashion of old English hospitality, on a grand scale. 
 His frigid courtesy w^as, on that occasion, melted mto cheer- 
 ful cordiality. Except during a brief tenure of high office, 
 and of great political power, his ambitious and craving soul 
 had never appeared so nearly satisfied. The domestics of the 
 Castle reaped a rich harvest ; the pecuniary remembrances 
 of the season being doubled, from the highest to the lowest, 
 by the Earl's express direction. Alas ! even the sum paid 
 to the humblest helper in the stables, would have provided 
 a repast on Christmas day for all the melancholy occupants 
 of the cottage ; but no one in that magnificent stmcture 
 ever thought of them. Had it not been, indeed, for the 
 kmdness of Mr Hylton, who had forwarded to them some 
 little contribution towards a Christmas dinner, scarcely more 
 than a nominal one would have been theirs ! Cheerless and 
 disconsolate though Christmas threatened thus to be with 
 old Ayliffe, as far as this world's hopes and happiness w^ere 
 concerned, he rose very early in the morning of that 
 
NOW AND THEN. 51 
 
 Christmas day ; while even yet the stars were glittering 
 brightly in the cold clear sky, and all was solemn silence. 
 As he gazed upwards into the heavens, he bethought him 
 of the sublime and mystic STAR of Bethlehem. What pure 
 and elevating thoughts were his, whose spirit dropped for a 
 while the fetters of earth, while mounting into heavenly 
 contemplation ! He was the only one from the cottage who 
 made his appearance at church that day ; and the vigilant 
 eye of Mr Hylton could scarcely detect his distant figure, 
 lost as it was in the novel crowd of gentle and simple, from 
 the Castle, that occupied the church. When the old man 
 returned home, he found his son and daughter far more 
 despondent even than he had left them. The former seemed 
 scarcely capable of speaking in answer to either his wife or 
 father ; who attributed the main cause of his depression and 
 taciturnity to grief at losing the situation which Mr Hylton 
 had been striving to obtain for him. All three of them now 
 gave it up in despair ; but none of them knew of another 
 effort on the behalf of young Ayliffe, which had been made 
 by the indefatigable Mr Hylton, on his visit to his friend, 
 and which effort was likely to be successful ; viz., to obtain 
 for him the situation, then vacant, of bailiff to a wealthy 
 squire, related to the clergyman who had so reasonably 
 demurred to appointing young Ayliffe to the mastership of 
 the school. Here Mr Hylton was very sanguine ; and he 
 had good grounds for expecting, within a few days' time, to 
 be able to announce to that unhappy little family, an event 
 which would be really, to them all, Hke life from the dead. 
 Only one visitor had the Ayliffes on that dreary Christmas 
 
52 NOW AND THEN. 
 
 day, and it was good Mr Hylton, who went to them after 
 the mommg service. The snow lay nearly a foot deep, and 
 continued to flutter down thickly, threatening to do so for 
 hours. He carried with him a bottle of port wine, which he 
 gave to them with a solemn and hearty benediction ; at the 
 same time placing a five-shilling piece in the trembling hand 
 of Mrs AylifFe, as a Christmas-box for the little Adam. 
 There was not much fire on the hearth ; and they were just 
 concluding the meal for wdiicli they had been indebted to 
 Mr Hylton, as he entered. They all looked so sad — even 
 old Ayliffe — that Mr Hylton longed to announce the strong 
 hopes which he entertained that better days were in store 
 for them ; but, after balancing the matter for some little time 
 In his mind, a humane pnidence prevailed, and he left them to 
 return to his own Chnstmas fireside ; partaking of the homely 
 comforts there awaiting him, with a sense of quiet enjoyment, 
 which was somewhat dashed, however, by a recollection of 
 the cheerless scene which he had so shortly before quitted. 
 The first glass of wine which he took after dinner, accom- 
 panied the following expression of his benevolent feelings ; 
 " May God Almighty bless all mankind, and confer upon 
 the virtuous poor his choicest blessings. Let us drink to the 
 health of all my parishioners, peer and peasant, in castle and 
 cottage : all this day duly remembering, who it was that 
 lay in the manger, and WHY. And may God bless thee, my 
 Mary," said he, embracing his wife ; " and thee, thou last 
 lamb of our flock," he added, tenderly folding his little child 
 in his arms, and kissing her, as did the mother, in silence. 
 Their hearts were full ; and their eyes unconsciously glanced 
 
NOW AND THEN. 53 
 
 at several chairs ranged at tlie further end of the room, 
 which had no longer any stated occupants. — Presently, 
 however, they got into a more cheerful vein, which was 
 interrupted, though for a moment only, when, in talking 
 over their neighbours and parishioners, and the events of 
 the past year, they spoke of the unfortunate Ayliffes. 
 
 " How full the church was, to-day, dear Henry ! " ex- 
 claimed Mrs Hylton. 
 
 " Ay, it was," he repUed, somewhat complacently. ^' It 
 seemed to me as if there were a sea of strange faces, and 
 most of them, too, with a sort of town look about them. 
 There were one or two of the great ones of the earth there, 
 Mary, I can tell you ! Who would have thought of the 
 King's prime minister being one of Parson Hylton's Christ- 
 mas congregation ! And I can tell you, too, that he listened 
 to my sermon very attentively : and, by the way, I must 
 say, there were in it one or two things which it might do his 
 Grace no harm to remember." 
 
 " He has a fine commanding face, Henry, has he not? " 
 
 " Polly, Polly," said Mr Hylton, chucking her under the 
 chin, and smiling good-naturedly, '' I fancy you would say 
 as much of any prime minister : you would say it — ay, of 
 me, were I he." 
 
 " Well, and, dear love, I might say as much, and yet tell 
 no fib," said she, affectionately. 
 
 "Pho! " he replied, laughingly, and kissed the dear cheek 
 which he still thought pretty : and which, in expression, was 
 lovely indeed. 
 
 Good Mrs Hylton was not far wrong. Her husband's 
 
54 NOW AND THEN. 
 
 features were still handsome, plainly stamped with the im- 
 press of thought, and, as it were, radiant with benignity. 
 You would have said also, on looking at them, that their 
 owner had seen his share of troubles. 
 
 ^' The most striking figure in the Earl's pew," said Mr 
 Hylton, "crowded though it was with those whose names are 
 so often heard of, was in my opinion, my Lord Milverstoke 
 himself" 
 
 " Yes, he truly had a stately appearance — that I myself 
 noticed : but he is so stern and distant in his bearing — one 
 feels, dearest, no interest in him." 
 
 " Ay, that is so, doubtless; 'tis a pity he is of so imperious 
 a temper. He has a heart, which is in its proper place, but, 
 as it were, imbedded in ice, which you have to cut tlu-ough 
 before you can get at it. He is one of the most powerful 
 intellects that we have ; and yet — " 
 
 " How like him young Lord Alkmond is — only hand- 
 somer ! " 
 
 " Not handsomer than his father was, when he was his 
 son's age, I can tell you, ]\Iary. But did you notice how 
 charming looked dear Lady Emily ? Mark my words, Mary ; 
 she will in a year or two shine at court a star of the first 
 magnitude ! " 
 
 '' I hope they won't spoil the dear girl : she is one of a 
 disposition simple, and noble, and quite perfect." 
 
 " Perfect^ my dear, is a huge word ; but 'tis Christmas, 
 and we won't quarrel about luords. Lady Emily is a fine 
 creature ; but, when she chooses, she can be as stately as 
 her lofty papa." 
 
NOW AND THEN. 55 
 
 " She is growing very like the Coiintess, Henry, is she 
 not?" said Mrs Hylton with a sigh. 
 
 " So I thought to-day—" 
 
 " By the way, I wonder whether we shall be asked to 
 dinner at the Castle this week ! — If she have her way, we 
 go — that I am sure of," said Mrs Hylton, resolutely. 
 
 And she proved not mistaken ; for the next day Lady 
 Emily called at the parsonage, as she drove by, and deliv- 
 ered a very cordial uivitation from the Earl for dinner on 
 the day after, and the Earl's coach was to come down for 
 them, as it did whenever both Mr and Mrs Hylton dmed at 
 the Castle. Their high expectations were exceeded by the 
 splendid scene which they encountered on that occasion. 
 The Castle had never, in fact, during twenty years, wit- 
 nessed such festivity as during those Christmas holidays. 
 In returning home, both remarked the buoyant spirits of 
 the Earl of Milverstoke, and the exquisite courtesy of his 
 manners. Wliile good Mrs Hylton had occupied herself 
 chiefly with Lady Emily, and Lady Alkmond and her beau- 
 tiful boy, Mr Hylton had been watching with anxious 
 interest the Earl and Lord Alkmond; observing in the 
 latter manifestly forced spirits, especially when he was 
 brought into contact with his father, whose full piercmg 
 eye Mr Hylton occasionally observed directed towards 
 his son, with what appeared an expression of rapid but 
 uneasy scrutiny. 
 
 On one of the more advanced days of the Christmas 
 week, there was to be a kind of military banquet at the 
 Castle, in compHment to the officers of a dragoon regiment. 
 
56 NOW AND THEN. 
 
 one of whose out-quarters was at the barracks, at some 
 two miles' distance, their headquarters being in an adjoin- 
 ing comity. Every officer, either m that regiment or any 
 other, was invited, if within reach ; for an affair of that 
 kind was not an everyday occurrence. Every evening had 
 the band from the barracks been' placed at the disposal of 
 the Earl, for the entertainment of his guests ; and charm- 
 ing indeed was the effect produced, when, the weather 
 admitting, the mellow music echoed through the woods. 
 
 On the occasion last mentioned, Mr Hylton happened to 
 be returning home, from paying a visit to a sick parishioner. 
 His walk lay for upwards of a mile along the outskirts of 
 the wood. It was about ten o'clock, and the night calm, 
 but gloomy. With what ravishing sweetness came fitfully 
 towards him the sounds of bugles and French horns ! He 
 often stood still to listen ; and, while thus engaged, heard 
 the report of a musket, evidently fired m the wood. The 
 soimd was quickly repeated. " Oh ho ! " thought he, as he 
 resumed his walk homeward, " the rogues thmk that they 
 have found an opportunity ! " He was somewhat surprised, 
 a few moments afterwards, at the music abruptly ceasing, 
 in the midst of a well-kno^vn national air ; and, unless his 
 ear deceived him, he heard the faint sound of human voices, 
 but evidently at a considerable distance. His expenence 
 as a magistrate suggested to him a probable solution of 
 what he had heard, viz., a collision between poachers and 
 the keepers. Just as he had reached the parsonage-gate, a 
 horseman came galloping up the road which he had just 
 quitted, and which led on to the park-gates of the Castle. 
 
NOW AND THEN. 57 
 
 A moment afterwards, a dragoon, in undress milform, 
 thundered past him at top speed. " What's the matter? " 
 hastily called out Mr Hylton, but received no answer. The 
 soldier had either heeded or heard not, and was quickly 
 out of sight. Scarcely five minutes had elapsed before 
 other similar sounds from the same quarter brought Mr 
 Ilylton suddenly out of the parsonage, down to the gate, 
 when he saw a groom coming along at full gallop. 
 
 " Stay, stay a moment ! What has happened ? " called 
 out Mr Hylton, loudly. 
 
 The man did not slacken his pace, but, as he passed, 
 shouted hoarsely, and evidently in desperate agitation, 
 '' Oh ! murder ! murder ! " 
 
 And, indeed, an astounding and horrifying event had just 
 occurred. How shall it be written ? Lord Alkmond had 
 been murdered in the wood ! And at the moment of Mr 
 Hylton's asking the question, the bleeding body of the young 
 peer was being earned into the Castle, by two dragoons, 
 who almost trembled under their lifeless burthen. By the 
 time that Mr Hylton, greatly agitated, had got into the 
 village, all its startled Inhabitants were at their doors, or 
 standing in groups in the street, conversing so Intently 
 together that they scarcely observed a troop of dragoons, 
 fully armed, galloping past them towards the park-gate of 
 the Castle. Within a few minutes afterwards, a portion of 
 them returned faster than they had gone, following a per- 
 son in plain clothes, who appeared to be leading the way 
 for them. Woeful to relate, their errand was to Ayllife's 
 cottage, which they reached a few moments after young 
 
58 NOW AND THEN. 
 
 AyliiFe had sprung into it, nearly striking down the door 
 as he entered, reeking with perspiration, with hoiTor in 
 his face, breathing hke a hard-run horse, and with glaring 
 blood-stains on one of his arms ! His father, who was sit- 
 tmg beside a small candle, reading the Bible, shrunk from 
 him, aghast and speechless ; and young Ayliffe was utter- 
 ing some incoherent sounds in answer to his astounded 
 father's inquiries, when the clattering of horses' hoofs was 
 heard; and the next moment four dragoons, carbine in 
 hand, entered the cottage, while others remained outside, 
 around the door, with swords drawn. 
 
 '' What do ye want with me ?" at length gasped young 
 Ayliffe, staring with haggard countenance at the soldiers. 
 
 " Dost thou surrender to us, who demand it in the King's 
 name?" said one of them, — the sergeant. 
 
 Young Ayliffe started up from the bench on which he 
 had thrown himself, and, with a desperate effort, said, 
 " Where is your authority to take me ? Tliis is my father's 
 house !" 
 
 " Raise thou but a finger to resist us, and we fire ! " said 
 the sergeant, and the three dragoons who were with him 
 lowered their carbines. 
 
 " What do ye arrest me for?" inquired Ayliffe, hoarsely. 
 
 " When we have got thee in safe keeping, according to 
 orders, thou shalt know," quoth the sergeant. 
 
 At this moment Ayliffe's eye lit upon the blood on his 
 sleeve, and he gave a frightful start. '' I know nought of 
 it! I am innocent — God be my witness!" he gasped, 
 looking imploringly at the soldiers. 
 
NOW AND THEN. 59 
 
 At that moment was heard the sound of rapidly approach- 
 mg horse-feet ; and presently a constable entered with his 
 staff, and approaching, said,—" Adam AylifFe, I arrest thee 
 for the murder of Lord Alkmond in the wood just now !" 
 on which a loud groan issued from poor old Ayliffe, who 
 had been listening in speecliless consternation, and then he 
 fell senseless on the groimd. In the sudden agitation and 
 horror of the scene, had not been noticed a female head 
 tlu'ust hastily through the half-opened door, shortly after 
 young AyHffe had rushed into the house, as has been 
 described ; nor had any one observed, or heard, a moment 
 or two afterwards, a dull sound, as of one falling ; but the 
 miserable Mrs Ayliffe, for m truth she it was, had sunk on 
 the floor of her room in a swoon, m which she continued up 
 to the entrance of the constable. " Sally ! — Sarah ! Where 
 art thou?" shouted young Ayliffe wildly, making a motion 
 towards the door ; but the constable proceeded to put hand- 
 cuffs on him. 
 
 " If thou stir a foot till these be on," said the sergeant, 
 coolly, " thou wilt have lead in thee : " on which Ayliffe, with 
 a bewildered stare, yielded himself, apparently palsied, to 
 his captors, and shortly afterwards suffered himself to be 
 led from the room, and assisted on the horse of one of the 
 dismounted dragoons, who first withdrew the pistols from 
 the holster. The others instantly momited, leaving him 
 whose horse was ridden by Ayliffe in the cottage, to attend 
 on old Ayliffe, who seemed in a fit j and within half an hour 
 afterwards, the horror-stricken and half-stunned Ayliffe was 
 safely lodged in the cage near the village : the troop which 
 
60 NOW AND THEN. 
 
 had escorted him remaining on guard aromid it, till relieved 
 by orders from the baiTacks. An excited crowd of villagers 
 soon gathered around the cage, but was kept at a distance 
 by the dragoons, who w^ould not allow even ]Mr Hylton to 
 approach it, though he came up to them, greatly agitated, 
 demanding admission as a magistrate. His right, however, 
 was not recognised by the soldiers, who also listened with 
 frigid indifference to the loud murmurs of the crowd aromid, 
 expressing indignation at Mr Hylton's repulse. " Where 
 did you take Adam Ayliffe — your prisoner?" he inquired, 
 but received no answer. One of the officers who had been 
 dining at the Castle in company with the late Lord Alk- 
 mond, rode up immediately afterwards. 
 
 "Is your prisoner secured ?" said he. 
 
 "Yes, sir; handcuffed." 
 
 "Did he resist?" 
 
 " No, sir." 
 
 "Who is he?" 
 
 " Don't know, sir." 
 
 The officer cast a glance of hasty but effectual scrutiny 
 at the cage. He saw that it looked old, and was not over- 
 strongly constructed. " No one," he whispered, " is to 
 approach this place nearer than you ; and I will send down 
 some irons from the barracks immediately. Let him remain 
 till further orders ;" and Avith this the officer was galloping 
 off, when a loud howl w^as heard from within the cage, 
 curdling the very blood of the bystanders. " Open the 
 door," said the officer, turning round his horse, and dis- 
 mounting. 
 
NOW AND THEN. CI 
 
 Two soldiers thereupon alighted, and stood, sword in 
 hand, by their officer. ''Stand back!" said he, calmly. 
 The door was opened, and the sergeant, holding up the 
 lantern in the doorway, disclosed the figure of apparently a 
 maniac, striking his forehead violently with the handcuffs. 
 
 " Be quiet, sir, or you will be placed in irons," said the 
 officer, sternly. 
 
 Ayliffe gnashed his teeth, and his bloodshot eyes glared 
 fearfully at the officer ; who, having whispered a word or 
 two in the ear of one of the men, on which the door was 
 closed and locked, rode off at full gallop. Within half an 
 hour's time the unfortunate prisoner was in irons, which 
 had been sent down from the barracks. Mr Hylton's bene- 
 volent heart dictated another errand to him: on being 
 repulsed from the cage, he had returned to the parsonage, 
 ordered out his horse, and ridden off to the cottage. Oh, 
 what a scene he encountered ! The soldier who had been 
 left there was, with a kind air, giving some water to the 
 old man, who sat on the floor, propped up against the wall, 
 apparently in a stupor. Beside him lay huddled up, near 
 the fireplace, the poor child of the prisoner, still sobbing, 
 but having cried itself to sleep. A woman, whom the sol- 
 dier had fetched from a neighbouring cottage, was in Mr 
 Ayhffe's room ; and on Mr Hylton entering, came out in 
 weeping agitation, saying, " Poor soul ! I believe, sir, she 
 is dead, and yet in labour !" 
 
 « Oh, poor Mrs Ayliffe ! Oh, poor Mrs Ayliff'e ! What 
 is to be done ?" quoth Mr Hylton •, " I will go for the 
 doctor ;" and, as fast as his horse could carry him, he went. 
 
C2 NOAV AND THEN. 
 
 Who shall describe the scene going on at the Castle in 
 consequence of this awful event ? It seemed as though a 
 thunderbolt had fallen upon them from heaven. All was 
 petrifying consternation and bewilderment. At the moment 
 when the bleeding corpse of the young Lord was being 
 earned towards the Castle, Lady Alkmond was gracefully 
 dancing a minuet. The ball-room presented a gay and 
 splendid aspect. Many officers were there ; the costume of 
 the ladies was exceedingly beautifid ; and the loveliest of 
 the figm-es that wore it, was the young Lady Emily, who 
 that evening was makmg her first appearance in public. 
 The Earl of Milverstoke had never appeared before to such 
 great advantage ; having dropped almost all his stem state- 
 Imess, he was a model of courtly ease and affability. Even 
 the Duke of Bradenham, formerly one of his colleagues in 
 the Cabinet, was eyeing hun with great interest, wondering 
 how mollifying an effect had been produced, by retirement 
 and reflection, m the temper of the haughty, impracticable 
 peer, whom none of them had been able to tolerate In office. 
 The ghastly countenance of the groom of the chambers, 
 who suddenly appeared at one of the large doors of the 
 ball-room, w^here he whispered to the nobleman standing 
 nearest, and who instantly followed him out, sufficed to give 
 token of something awful having happened. In a moment 
 the dancing ceased ; the music was hushed ; hurried whis- 
 pering was heard ; agitated faces were seen ; hasty gestures 
 were observed; and when Lord Milverstoke quitted the 
 apartment, w^ith a face suddenly blanched and overspread 
 with hoiTor, amazement and terror reached their climax. 
 
NOW AND THEN. C3 
 
 Faint shrieks, and presently loud cries, and universal 
 agitation ensued throughout the Castle; and, in a few 
 moments more, all was known, and Lord Milverstoke verging 
 on madness. 
 
 The banquet of that day had partaken, as has been 
 already stated, of a military character, in compliment to 
 Lord Alkmond ; and the Earl of Milverstoke and several of 
 the guests had quitted the room, some time before the hap- 
 pening of the catastrophe, leaving Lord Alkmond and most 
 of his brother officers at the dinner-table for awhile to 
 themselves. The conversation was for some time gay and 
 animated, till accidentally a topic was introduced, which 
 only one or two of those present perceived to be, for some 
 reason or other, distasteful to Lord Alkmond ; for he 
 changed colour, and immediately addressed the person next 
 to him on another subject. The general conversation, how- 
 ever, continued on the topic alluded to ; and Lord Alkmond 
 was at length observed, by one next to him, to be seriously 
 disquieted ; becoming silent, and uttering suppressed sighs. 
 At length all of them quitted the table, to repair to the 
 ball-room. Lord Alkmond was seen by some servants, 
 directly afterwards, leaving the Castle, with his hat on ; but 
 this attracted no special notice, since his lordship was fre- 
 quently in the habit of taking solitary rambles in the woods. 
 He walked, as it afterwards appeared, for a time to and fro 
 on the grand terrace ; then descended from it by a by-path 
 into the wood ; and was not seen again till his body was 
 brought into the hall, carried by the two dragoons (several 
 of whom were guests in the servants' hall,) followed by 
 
G 1 NOW AND THEN. 
 
 several other persons, all greatly agitated. The head keeper, 
 with two under keepers, had, while going his rounds in the 
 woods, heard suddenly a dull, heavy sound ; then that as of 
 a person falling, accompanied by, apparently, a faint groan 
 or sigh; then, steps, as of one iimning. Continuing to 
 move onward in the direction whence the sounds seemed to 
 come, they encountered a body stretched on the ground ; 
 and, to their inconceivable horror, presently recognised Lord 
 All^mond, wrapped in a great coat, bleeding profusely from 
 a frightful blow on the side of the head, and speechless ; 
 motionless ; senseless ; dead. 
 
 " Follow ! follow ! follow those steps ! I hear some one 
 running ! " exclaimed the head keeper, remaining by the 
 body, while his companions started off in obedience to his 
 orders. 
 
 "Hollo! — There! there's the murderer!" presently 
 they shouted violently ; for they had caught sight of the 
 figure of a man running with great rapidity, and who at 
 one bound cleared a wall, and got into the high road, where 
 he resumed running; on which one of the two pursuers 
 fired, but missed the fugitive. 
 
 " Ila ! — I know him !" exclaimed one of the two fol- 
 lowers ; " It's Adam Ayliffe !" and while the one who had 
 not fired contmued the pursuit, the other ran to the baiTacks, 
 which were at but a short distance from that part of the 
 road; and the result was, the capture of Ayliffe, as the 
 monster who had done this deed of cruelty and horror. 
 
 The next morning at an early hour the formidable pri- 
 soner was delivered up to the civil power ; but owmg to the 
 
NOW AND THEN. 65 
 
 public excitement, which was every moment increasing, the 
 military were requested to escort the prisoner to the justice- 
 hall of the neighbouring magistrate, Sir Henry Harrington, 
 bemg the same who had adjudicated on the prisoner so short 
 a time before, for the trifling delinquency of which the 
 reader has heard. The moment that the miserable man was 
 seen, heavily ironed, staggering from the cage into the 
 post-chaise which was to convey him to the magistrate's, a 
 groan issued from the appalled bystanders ; one of mingled 
 pity, terror, and wonder. Those who caught the nearest 
 glance at the prisoner, from behind the horses of the 
 dragoons, saw the blood on his left sleeve, and shuddered. 
 His eyes were blood-shot *, his forehead was severely bruised, 
 and much swollen, with the blows which he had given 
 himself over night ; his lips were tightly compressed ; and he 
 uttered not a syllable to the officer who accompanied him. 
 In another chaise were the clerk of the peace and Mr 
 Hylton, the latter intending to be present in his magis- 
 terial capacity. They set off at a rapid pace, preceded and 
 followed by the dragoons. Their road lay past Ayliife's 
 cottage, and, as they approached it, the unhappy prisoner 
 became terribly excited. He sat upright, and stared with 
 a half-frenzied eye as they passed. A woman had just 
 quitted the cottage with a child covered up under her red 
 cloak : it was the infant son of the prisoner, whom she was 
 carrying to her own home for a while, at Mr Hylton's 
 request, the mother lying desperately ill, and about to be 
 taken to the infirmary the moment that it could be done 
 with safety — if indeed her doom were not already sealed, 
 
 F 
 
66 NOW AND THEN. 
 
 and she could be moved elsewhere than to the churchyard. 
 The prisoner moaned heavily as they drove past, and sunk 
 back witli a deep groan in the chaise. There was already 
 a considerable concourse around the gates of the magistrate's 
 house, and it was deemed prudent for the military to remain 
 till the proceedings were over. ^ 
 
 There were three justices present, including Mr Hylton, 
 who looked harassed and most unhappy. He had been up 
 several hours during the night, in attendance at the cottage, 
 where indeed at that moment was Mrs Hylton herself, in 
 compassionate attendance on her poor suifering sister. 
 When Ayliffe, heavily ironed, entered the justice-room, 
 with a constable on each side, he seemed not to obser\'e any 
 one before him ; but presently his eye lit on Mr Hylton, 
 who sat at the table, his head leaning on his hand, which 
 concealed his face from Ayliffe. 
 
 " Sir ! — Mr Hylton !" shouted the prisoner with frantic 
 energy, " oh, say for me ! could I do this thing that I am 
 charged with ? No, no, no ! you know I could not !" 
 
 Mr Hylton unconsciously shook his head without removing 
 the hand that supported it. Again the prisoner addressed 
 him, with wild gestures and a loud hoarse voice : 
 
 " How's Sarah, sir ? how's my wife ?" 
 
 Mr Hylton shook his head and remained silent ; and then 
 the prisoner sunk doTvm on the bench that was placed for 
 him, his heavy irons clanking dismally. The hearing was 
 not long, nor was much more disclosed than has been 
 already told. The doctor who had been summoned to the 
 castle on the horrid occasion declared that death must have 
 
NOW AND THEN. 67 
 
 been instantaneous, for that the wound was most frightful, 
 and had been inflicted with a bludgeon, or some other heavy 
 instrument. The blood on the prisoner's sleeve was pointed 
 out, at which he seemed suddenly roused from a sort of 
 stupor ; and Mr Hjlton, observing it, instantly arose, and 
 with an air of great agitation quitted the room, nor did he 
 return again. 
 
 ^' Have you any other evidence to adduce '?" said the 
 magistrate. 
 
 '' None, ain't please your Worship." 
 
 " Is any one else suspected ?" 
 
 '^ Nobody at present, an't please your Worship ; but a 
 strict inquiry is on foot." 
 
 The justices' clerk then read over to the witnesses what 
 had been taken down from their lips, — the prisoner's hag- 
 gard countenance, and eyes fixed intently on the floor, 
 showing that he was not attending to what was going on. 
 When the depositions had all been read over, and signed by 
 the witnesses, 
 
 " Adam Ayliflb," said the magistrate, " hearken to me — 
 thou standest committed for the wilful murder of the late 
 Lord Viscount Alkmond." 
 
 " It is false ! I never murdered him ! I know naught 
 about it : and ye are all driving me mad !" cried the 
 prisoner in a loud hoarse voice, starting up and looking 
 wildly at the principal magistrate, who calmly signed the 
 warrant of committal as soon as it had been made out ; and 
 within an hour's time Aylifl'e was safely lodged in the 
 county gaol, having been escorted thither by the dragoons, 
 
G8 NOW AND THEN. 
 
 for fear of any sudden and desperate resistance being offered 
 by one of such formidable courage and strength as the 
 prisoner. When the proceedings were closed, the two 
 committing magistrates withdrew into another room, where 
 was Mr Hylton, walking about in much perturbation ; and 
 the three had a long conversation on the mysterious and 
 frightful transaction which had called them together that 
 day. Mr Hylton was asked with much interest by his 
 brother magistrates concerning the passionate appeal which 
 had been made to him by the prisoner, but said only, that 
 to him what had happened appeared an awful mystery ; that 
 the prisoner was by nature one of the frankest, best natured, 
 and best behaved men in the world, and had been brought 
 up by a father who was himself a pattern of virtue and 
 piety. 
 
 " Ah !" said one, " there is something very fine in the 
 character of old Ayliife ; I know a little of him ; and grieved 
 indeed I am for him ! " 
 
 " What conceivable motive^^^ commenced Mr Hylton — 
 
 " Stay," said Sir Henry Harrington, di'opping his voice 
 almost to a whisper — " you do not forget a former occur- 
 rence in this justice-room some few days ago, good friend, 
 when you acted so liberally ?" 
 
 " Alas ! of what avail was it ?" said Mr Hylton. 
 
 " That is not what I mean," quoth Sir Henry ; " I heard 
 a word or two muttered by the prisoner on that occasion, 
 which perhaps no one else did : " and he repeated what had 
 caught his ear, unless, indeed, as he said, he had been 
 greatly mistaken, and about which he declared that he 
 
NOW AND THEN. 
 
 69 
 
 would make some private inquiry. He mentioned the 
 words, and after a pause Mr Hylton sighed, changed colour 
 a little, and shook his head. " Well, still," said he, " I 
 cannot believe he did this murder !" 
 
 On the ensuing evening sat the coroner's inquest, at the 
 Blind Hound, an inn in the village ; and the jury having 
 been taken to the Castle, and seen the body of the murdered 
 nobleman, which lay just as it had been brought in from the 
 woods, and was a sight which none of them could ever for- 
 get, they heard substantially the same evidence which had 
 been given before the magistrates, and at once returned a 
 verdict of wilful murder against Adam AylifFe ; all of them, 
 on retiring to their various homes in the village and neigh- 
 bourhood, expressing amazement and horror; and deep 
 sympathy for poor old Ayliffe, and the prisoner's wife. 
 Eigorous inquiries elicited no circumstances which could 
 throw any light on an event which soon occasioned con- 
 siderable excitement throughout the whole kingdom. The 
 woods had been scoured all night long by soldiers from the 
 barracks, constables, gamekeepers, villagers, and others, but 
 in vain. There was nothing to aiford a trace of the deed 
 which had so recently been done, but the dismal crimsoned 
 spot that had witnessed the mysterious and horrible occm^- 
 rence which had extinguished the mortal life of the next 
 heir to the domains and dignities of Milverstoke, in the very 
 flower of his youthful manhood. Poor Lord Alkmond was, 
 when thus hastily smitten from the land of the living, 
 apparently possessed of almost every imaginable worldly 
 advantage and guarantee for happiness. He was one of the 
 
70 NOW AND THEN. 
 
 handsomest men of his day ; his features were symmetry 
 itself, at once refined and manly ; he was tall and well- 
 proportioned as his father, but his manner was infinitely 
 more gracious and winning — at all events till latterly, when 
 some strange spell seemed to have overshadowed his spirits, 
 such as even the lovely wife of his bosom, now, alas ! his 
 prostrate and broken-hearted widow, could neither account 
 for, nor was permitted by him to inquire into : a gloom 
 which only deepened before the stern solicitude of his father. 
 How awful the obscm-ity which skrouded his sudden depar- 
 ture ! impenetrable perhaps for ever, to all but the eye of 
 Him from whom nothing is hid ; of whose ordering are all 
 things, in perfect wisdom, not to be vainly or presumptu- 
 ously questioned; and whose will it might be that this 
 mystery should not be unravelled on earth. — Beat yom- fair 
 bosoms and bewail the departed, ye lovely kindred of the 
 dead, and of him, the living, — deep in whose dark spirit is 
 quivering an arrow from on high ! Let the light of heaven 
 be shut out from yon gloomy and silent residence of the 
 great ones of the earth, till their dead be buried out of their 
 sight, and their stricken hearts enlightened, humbled, and 
 consoled from on high ! 
 
 On Saturday was the burial. Lengthened was the funeral 
 cavalcade, and many were the noble mourners composing It, 
 which wound slowly its way from the Castle to the church 
 of Milverstoke, w^iere a silent assemblage of awe-stnick 
 beholders awaited it. The chief mourner was the Earl of 
 Milverstoke, treading with firm step, his face of dreadful 
 whiteness, — a world of woe in his dark eyes ! From his 
 
NOW AND THEN. 71 
 
 rigid lips had fallen no sound, since he had ordered away 
 the attendants from the chamber of the dead, that he might 
 himself pace, the livelong night, alone, before the bier of his 
 murdered son. He now followed into the church, and to 
 the black entrance of the vault, the remains of that — his 
 only son, in grievous silence ; in all the majesty of sorrow 
 and suffering ; seen by every beholder to be too great and 
 awful to be approached, or intermeddled with. Oh, with 
 what solemnity was read the Service for the Dead, stirring 
 the very soul alike of every great one, and humble one, who 
 heard, that day, the voice of the minister of God ! Fain 
 would Mr Hylton have devolved that sad office upon another; 
 but his duty was plain ; and, though reading with a voice 
 sometimes tremulous, he gave grand significance, because 
 simple utterance, to the sublime Burial Service of the 
 Church. 
 
 At a late hour in the evening there was delivered into the 
 hands of the desolate and bereaved Earl, by a special mes- 
 senger from London, an autograph letter from the King, 
 expressing deep concern for his misfortune ; and, so far as 
 he could thence derive any consolation, the Earl had also 
 abundant proof of the sympathy felt for him throughout the 
 kingdom. 
 
 On the evening after the capture of young Ayliffe, occurred 
 a circumstance worthy of perpetual remembrance. Mr 
 Hylton, notwithstanding the inclemency of the weather, 
 paid a visit to the late residence of the imprisoned malefac- 
 tor, whose miserable father now tenanted it alone. There, 
 by the dim light issuing from the low fire, Mr Hylton 
 
72 NOW AND THEN. 
 
 beheld the old man kneeUng, and so absorbed in devotion 
 that he scarcely noticed the entrance of his reverend and 
 sympathising visitor. The old man slowly rose, however, 
 on feeling his hand gently squeezed by that of ^Ir Hylton, 
 and hearing his friendly voice. The food which had been 
 laid beside him early in the morning lay untouched, and 
 the old man tottered, from evident faintness, while Mr 
 Hylton assisted him from his knees to the stool on which he 
 had been sitting. After a while he pointed, with a shaking- 
 finger, to a distant part of the room. Mr Hylton asked 
 him what he meant. " A light, a light, sir ! " said he. 
 Mr Hylton lit a small candle which stood on a shelf over 
 the fireplace, and, on going with it to the spot to which old 
 Ayliffe had pointed, beheld an object sufficiently startling : 
 a thick oaken walking-stick, which had been brought in by 
 his son on the evening of his capture ; and, alas, there were 
 upon it evident marks of blood ! 
 
 '' This is dreadful, Ayliffe — dreadful indeed !" said Mr 
 Hylton, laying it down with a silent shudder ; and neither 
 he nor the old man spoke for some time, each actuated by 
 conflicting emotions. 
 
 " It is strange : hath not the cottage been searched?" said 
 Mr Hylton. 
 
 The old man shook his head : " Xo, sir," said he in a 
 feeble tone, '' that stick hath lain there ever since he came 
 in ; and " — he paused, and added, with a long-drawn sigh, 
 ^' but for that book," pointing to the Bible, which lay on the 
 table beside him, " that bloody witness had not been here 
 now." 
 
NOW AND THEN. IS 
 
 Mr Hyltoii was silent. He was a magistrate^ and his duty- 
 was painful, but plain. " AylifFe," said he, gloomily, " I 
 am a magistrate !" 
 
 " I know thou art ; and that book, with thy good teach- 
 ing from it, hath taught me my duty. There must lie that 
 sad stick till it be sent for, if sent for it must be !" 
 
 " Thou faithful servant of God," said Mr Hylton, his eyes 
 almost blinded with tears, rising and grasping in his hands 
 those of the old man, who spoke not — " put thy trust in 
 God, who hath, for His own wise purposes, sent thee this 
 terrible trial, and He will bear thee through it !" 
 
 " Ay, ay ! ' though he slay me' " — began the old man ; 
 but his voice suddenly failed him. 
 
 " Whether thy son be innocent or guilty, this stick must 
 appear against him," said Mr Hylton, firmly but mournfully ; 
 " and even were it by any accident not to be produced, yet 
 have I seen it, and must, by force of conscience, tell that I 
 have seen it." 
 
 " No one shall touch it, sir, while I have strength to pre- 
 vent it," said the old man, laying his hand on the open 
 Bible : " and if, as concerning my son, I have done him 
 wrong, God forgive me : and if I do right, I pray thee, sir, 
 give me thy prayers to help my trust, and strengthen me to 
 do this bitter duty !" 
 
 Mr Hylton rose, aiid pronounced upon him a solemn bene- 
 diction, and then sat opposite to him for some time in silence, 
 lost in admiration of the old man's virtue, and troubled 
 sorely at the duty which that virtue had just cast upon him- 
 self. " I would have given much, Adam, that it had 
 
i-i NOW AND THEN. 
 
 been any other than myself who had come hither and seen 
 and heard this," said he, at length ; " but if thine unhappy 
 son be innocent, God may make it appear so ; yet, whether 
 He do or not. His will be done. And He cannot will that 
 we should pervert or conceal truth !" 
 
 " He doth support me now," repHed the old man, gravely 
 and loftily. Mr Hylton gazed in silence, as though on some 
 old patriarch or martyr risen from the dead to exemplify trust 
 in the Almighty. 
 
 The next day, alas ! the dumb but dreadful witness was 
 taken possession of by a constable, under a search-warrant, 
 and delivered over to the proper authority. Mr Hylton 's 
 painful share in the transaction was known to none but the 
 committing magistrate, who passed a high eulogium on what 
 he termed the Spartan spirit of the prisoner's father. 
 
 On the Sunday succeeding the day of the funeral, the 
 church wore a very impressive aspect. The pulpit and 
 reading-desk were hung in black ; so was the great family- 
 pew belonging to the Castle, and mitenanted, but one side 
 of the gallery was nearly filled with a long array of the Earl's 
 domestics, in deep moummg. The church was unusually 
 crowded by the saddened occupants of the village and neigh- 
 bourhood, and others who had come from far and wide 
 thinking that the Vicar might, as was his custom on those 
 which he deemed fitting occasions, make some allusion to 
 the awful occurrence of the past week. Nor were they mis- 
 taken or disappomted. Methinks one may now see that 
 exemplary person in his pulpit, upon that memorable, melan- 
 choly, and excitmg occasion, resolved to turn it to the profit 
 
NOW AND THEN. 75 
 
 of those who were before hmi. He was not quite as old as 
 the Earl of Milverstoke ; of middle stature ; his hair grey ; 
 his face intellectual and somewhat care-worn, but of a most 
 benevolent expression. He was a man of firm purpose, of 
 stern integrity, of profound piety, and devoted to the duties 
 of a parish priest. It was only his independence of character, 
 indeed, which had stood in the way, some years before, of 
 his obtaining great clerical advancement. Here, however, 
 lay his parish, the parishioners of Avhich he loved — whose 
 children's dust was intermingled with the dust of his own 
 dear children, in the adjoining churchyard ! 
 
 When he had entered the pulpit, and looked round upon 
 his grave and silent congregation, his soul rose to the height 
 of the occasion, and felt itself in unison with theirs. The 
 few words which formed his text fell, as he pronounced them, 
 into the hearts of all present with fearful weight : — " Boast 
 not thyself of to-morrow : for thou hnoicest not ivhat a day 
 may bring fortli^ His own feelings forced him to pause 
 for some moments after he had uttered that divine injunction ; 
 and there ensued, till his voice broke it, the silence of the 
 grave. His sermon was brief, but weighty, and the chastened 
 severity of his judgment prevented any approach to inde- 
 corous directness of allusion. It was only towards the close 
 of his affecting and solemn address, that his voice faltered as 
 his eye lit upon an unexpected figure in the furthermost 
 corner of the gallery — that of old Adam Ayliffe, who had 
 gone thither with a stern consciousness of rectitude of con- 
 duct, as far as concerned his fellow-creatures, and a lofty 
 sense of what was at once his right, and his duty towards 
 
"6 NOW AND THEN. 
 
 God— to enter the house of God, with a lieart which He had 
 smitten, to pay his vows there. Alone had he come, and 
 unsupported, though with hmbs weakened by abstinence and 
 the agitation of the week, to His Father's house. As he 
 returned home, several oflfered him their arms, and kindly 
 saluted him, but he spoke not a word to any ; and his silence 
 deepened their sympathy for his sufferings, their reverence 
 for his character. On arriving at the cottage to which his 
 little grandchild had been taken, on its mother's removal in 
 almost a dying state to the infirmary, he entered it, and 
 seated himself beside the kind woman in whose lap it lay, 
 a sad little figure. The child, recognising him, stretched 
 forth its hand, and smiled, on which the old man's pent-up 
 feelings gave way: " Xay, nay, lad," he faltered, '' don't 
 do that !— thou'lt break my heart !" And the child seemed 
 surprised, and then somewhat alarmed, at the weepmg of 
 both his grandfather and his nurse. 
 
 " It doth not trouble thee much, I tnist?" at length said 
 Ayliffe, gently. 
 
 " Nay, never at all— never was there a quieter child ; 'tis 
 content with whatever is given to it." 
 
 " This was a terrible fall," said the old man, sadly, pointing 
 to the child's shoulder. 
 
 " Ay, it was, good Adam, and"— she pointed, sighing, to 
 to the little creature's left leg—" much it misgives me he 
 will walk lame." 
 
 " Well, God's will be done !" said the old man, and he 
 leaned down and kissed its forehead tenderly, while his tears 
 fell upon it. 
 
NOW AND THEN. 77 
 
 There was another grandfather looking, about the same 
 time, at an infant grandson, with feelings which language 
 cannot express or describe. And there were also two 
 mothers, stricken and prostrate, whom it appeared to be the 
 will of heaven to remove for ever from the sight of their 
 children ! 
 
 On the third Smiday after the fmieral, two figures in deep 
 mourning passed slowly along the aisle to the central pew 
 in the parish church : they were the Earl of Milverstoke and 
 his youthful daughter Lady Emily, whose beautiful but pale 
 countenance was almost entirely hidden beneath a long black 
 veil, and, on taking her seat, she was evidently suffering 
 under strong emotion. No eye that saw the Earl, as he fol- 
 lowed after her, had ever looked before on so affecting an 
 object, — a black monument of grief unutterable. Lady 
 Emily had placed herself at a distance from her father, wish- 
 ing to avoid the sight of his pallid, wasted, and gloomy 
 features, which bore deep and perhaps indelible traces of the 
 sufferings which he had undergone. His was a morbid and 
 haughty spu-it, which would rather perish under the crushing 
 pressure of misery than seek for any alleviation of it by com- 
 munion with others. An expression of sympathy was, m- 
 deed, intolerable to him ; and by a certain strange perversity 
 of his nature, he appeared loth to lose sight, even for an 
 instant, of the full extent of his wretchedness. The bulk of 
 the congregation were simple souls, who could not forbear 
 regarding him with a sort of subdued awe, which seemed to 
 exclude all tendency to pity. He had rarely ever spoken to 
 any of them, which they had attributed to his naturally cold 
 
iS NOW AND THEN. 
 
 stern habits, his occupation with high and important matters, 
 and sorrow for the death of his Countess. A few there were 
 who, not unnaturally, had attributed much of his apparent 
 moodiness to sheer vexation about high political matters, and 
 anger and mortification at not having been appointed, some 
 two years before, Lord-Lieutenant of the county. But there 
 was not one present, even down to the very humblest, who 
 had ever had just occasion to complain of the Earl as a land- 
 lord, or as having turned a deaf ear to the cry of distress ; 
 and some were there whose eyes were constantly in tears, 
 while fixed upon the haggard and emaciated features and 
 figure of their own munificent but secret benefactor. There, 
 also, was one whom the noble mourner saw not, but whose eye 
 was often occasionally settled upon him, under an undefinable 
 impulse — old Ayliflfe. Possibly neither of the two might 
 have that day entered the church had he known that the 
 other had been there. The Earl was perfectly' calm, and 
 deeply attentive to the service. Mrs Hylton's pew adjoined 
 that of the Earl ; and she was often in tears, for she several 
 times heard stifled sobs from Lady Emily, but not one, after 
 the Earl had whispered in a low and kind, but peremptory 
 tone, — 
 
 " Kestrain your feelings, Emily, or we must retire." 
 When the service was concluded, the Earl and Lady Emily 
 rose, and slowly walked down the aisle, before those in the 
 body of the church had risen from their seats. This had not 
 been observed, however, by old AylifFe in the gallery, who, 
 desirous of quitting before the Earl should have left his pew, 
 had gone as quickly as his enfeebled limbs would allow him 
 
NOAV AND THEN. 79 
 
 down the stairs : yet it actually so chanced, that the two 
 encountered each other immediately outside the little porch. 
 The Earl involuntarily stepped back for a moment, and 
 heaved a mighty but inaudible sigh. Then he passed on to 
 his carriage, and threw himself back in it with much agita- 
 tion. Old AylifFe, though it was snowing thickly, had taken 
 off his hat and bowed as the Earl passed him ; trembling in 
 every limb, he yet stood as erect as the Earl ; but, when 
 the carriage had di'iven off, he sat down for a moment on 
 the nearest snow-covered gravestone, as if staggering under 
 the weight of his agitated feelings. Two farmers who were 
 near kindly gave their arms to the troubled old man, and 
 set him far on his way home. 
 
 One of them had, early in the week, driven him to the 
 county gaol in his market-cart, and thereby afforded the 
 unhappy father, who had obtained the requisite order for 
 that purpose, his first opportunity of seeing his imprisoned 
 son, who was just recovering from a violent brain fever ; 
 and, during his illness, the doctor had peremptorily for- 
 bidden any interview between his patient and his father. 
 Old Ayliife was very minutely searched by the turnkey 
 before he was allowed to enter. He shook his head and 
 sighed during the operation. " These be the orders of this 
 place," said the turnkey gruffly : " poison and razors have 
 been found before now on folks going in to see murder- 
 prisoners." 
 
 Ayliffe trembled at the words. " No one, friend, that 
 feared God would do so," said he, mildly and sadly. 
 
 ^' I dcn't know that," replied the turnkey, '' but 
 
80 NOW AND THEN. 
 
 now^ you are a safe man and may go in :" and the next 
 moment the heart-broken old man stood before his unhappy 
 son. 
 
 They were allowed to be alone for a short time, the 
 doctor and nurse of the prison being within call, if need 
 might be. The prisoner gently raised his father's cold hand 
 to his lips and kissed it, and neither spoke for a few minutes ; 
 at length — 
 
 " Adam ! iidam ! " said the old man in a low tremulous 
 whisper, " art thou innocent or guilty T and his anguished 
 eyes seemed starmg into the very soul of his son, who calmly 
 replied, — 
 
 " Father, before God Almighty, I am as innocent as thou 
 art, nor do I know who did this terrible deed." 
 
 " Dost thou say it ? Dost thou say it ? I never knew thee 
 to lie to me, Adam !" said his father eagerly, half nsingfrom 
 the stool on which he sate ; " Dost thou say this before God, 
 whom thou art only too likely," he shuddered, " to see, after 
 next Assizes, face to face?" 
 
 " Ay, I do, father," replied his son, fixing his eyes 
 solemnly and steadfastly on those of his father, who slowly 
 rose and placed his trembling arms around his son, and em- 
 braced him in silence : " How is Sarah ?" faltered the pri- 
 soner, looking suddenly very faint. 
 
 " Ask me not, Adam," said the old man ; who quickly 
 added, perceiving the agitation of his son, '' but she is not 
 dead, my son : she hath been kindly cared for." 
 
 " And the lad ?" inquired the prisoner, still more faintly. 
 
 " He is well," said the old man, and the prisoner shook his 
 
NOW AND THEN. 81 
 
 head In silence, the tears running do^vn his cheeks, through 
 closed eyelids. 
 
 At this point the doctor re-entered, apprehensive for the 
 safety of his patient, and ordered the visitor at once to with- 
 draw, as he did, having tenderly kissed the fevered forehead 
 of his son. As the old man passed the governor's room, he 
 was called in, and oiFered a glass of wine, which had been 
 kindly placed in readiness for him. 
 
 " No, no, I thank thee, sir," said he, somewhat excitedly; 
 " I need it not ; I have just gotten a great cordial, that 
 hath warmed my heart ! " 
 
 "Ay, ay! who gave it thee?" quickly inquired the governor. 
 
 " My son, thy poor prisoner ! for he hath told me that he 
 is innocent," said the old man confidently. 
 
 "Oh! hath he?" quoth the governor gravely, with 
 melancholy significance ; and not choosing to say more, the 
 venerable and grief-wom visitor was presently ushered out 
 of the gloomy gates of the gaol. "When next he saw Mr 
 Hylton, he spoke of his son in the like confident tone in 
 which he had spoken to the governor. 
 
 "Adam, it is not his mere saying that he is innocent, 
 that will satisfy the judge and the jury at the coming As- 
 sizes," said Mr Hylton, seriously ; " be not, my poor friend, 
 over sanguine, for the case has very, very black features in 
 It, Adam ! Has your son explained to you how he came 
 into the wood just when he did ? why he fled as for his life ? 
 how he got the blood upon his coat and his stick ? Alas, 
 Adam, these are terrible things to deal with ; and " — he 
 
 a 
 
82 NOW AND THEN. 
 
 paused and seemed troubled — " there may be, for auglit 
 you or I know, other matters proved, still blacker !" 
 
 Old AylifFe listened to all this in silence, but his face had 
 whitened visibly as Mr Hylton proceeded. 
 
 " He's innocent, sir, for all that," at length said he; "he 
 never lied to me since he was born, sir ; and I trust in God 
 that He will not let the innocent suffer for the guilty ! " 
 
 " So indeed do I," replied Mr Hylton, solemnly ; " but 
 go you to the attorney whom we have engaged to take up 
 the case on your son's behalf, and see what he says : I, you 
 must always remember, am a magistrate, and therefore 
 desire not to hear what conscience might possibly hereafter 
 force me to disclose." 
 
 " Ay, ay, sir," said the old man sadly, sighing deeply : 
 " I see it, I know it ; appearances be against my son 
 terribly ; but my lord judge mil be a just man, and may 
 find out my son's innocence, though others may be unable 
 to see it till then." 
 
 That which greatly disturbed Mr Hylton, was the com- 
 munication which had been made to him by the county 
 magistrate, of the remark of young Ayliffe in the matter 
 of the hare, and which undoubtedly gave a dismal com- 
 plexion to the already overwhelming case against him. 
 
NOW AND THEN. 83 
 
 CHAPTEE lY. 
 
 Some short time after their first appearance at church, 
 Lady Emily called upon Mrs Hylton, whom she had always 
 tenderly loved from her childhood, being tenderly beloved 
 in return. It was a painful interview, and both of them 
 wept much. The poor girl's feelings had long been strung 
 to the highest pitch of intensity, scarce ever reheved by 
 commmiion with her father, though he really loved her 
 fondly. Partly owing to his nature, however, and partly 
 from a belief that conversation would but make deep wounds 
 bleed afresh, he rarely spoke to her on the subject of the 
 event which had enveloped the Castle in a desolate gloom, 
 which, to him, formed indeed a darkness that might be 
 felt. Besides all this, she was almost constantly an atten- 
 dant on her miserable and heart-broken sister-in-law. Lady 
 Alkmond, whose recovery from the shock which she had 
 sustained seemed to the last degree uncertain ; and that 
 uncertainty and fear occasioned the Earl an intolerable 
 agony of apprehension, lest his infant grandson, now an 
 object precious in his eyes beyond all comparison or expres- 
 sion, should be deprived of his surviving parent. What 
 delight thrilled through the heart of Mrs Hylton, when she 
 found the lovely creature before her, reverentially recog- 
 
84 NOW AND THEN. 
 
 nising, without a murmur, without a question, in the 
 disaster which had befallen her family, the ordination of the 
 all-wise Disposer of events ! 
 
 " Thus," said she, " you spoke to me, Mrs Hylton, when 
 my poor mamma was taken from us : thus she herself 
 spoke to us, only a short time before she died ! I wish 
 my dear papa saw these things so ; but he is always so 
 stem and gloomy ! " 
 
 " Depend upon it, my dear, dear Lady Emily," said Mrs 
 Hylton, " that all which has happened may one day plainly 
 appear to us to have been for the best : or it may please the 
 Almighty never to reveal his purposes to us ! And if he do 
 not, can we help ourselves ? What can we say or do, but 
 submit to Omnipotence?" 
 
 While they were thus talking, Mr Hylton rode up to the 
 door, and seeing the Earl's carriage there, looked at the 
 window, and recognised Lady Emily. Hastily uncovering, 
 he dismounted, and led his horse round to the stable. 
 
 " Why do you change colour, dear Mrs Hylton," said 
 Lady Emily with sm-prise, preparing to go. 
 
 " Shall I tell you where Mr Hylton has been ?" said Mrs 
 Hylton, after a moment's pause. 
 
 " Yes, if you please, unless there is any objection." 
 
 " He has just been to the infirmary" — 
 
 "What! are you afraid of fever? Don't fear for me," 
 said Lady Emily, with a faint smile ; but added hastily, 
 a stay— remember poor Lady Alkmond, whom I am with 
 all day—fand the dear child : If any thing were to happen to 
 it, I do believe my papa would die^outright ! for he almost 
 
NOW AND THEN. 85 
 
 trembles with fearful love, wlien he takes it into his arms 
 for only a moment ! " 
 
 " Oh no ! dear lady Emily ,tliere is no fever there at all, 
 I believe. Mr Hylton has been to visit, there, one of the 
 most mifortimate beings on the earth !" 
 
 " Dear Mrs Hylton, your looks alarm me. What do you 
 mean ? — who is it ? " 
 
 " Alas ! alas ! it is the poor innocent wife of" — Lady Emily 
 changed colom^ ; '' of that wretched man who" — Lady Emily 
 turned deadly pale, and trembled violently. Vain were her 
 efforts to recover from the shock, and she at length swooned, 
 to the great consternation of Mrs Hylton. With the aid of 
 the usual restoratives, however, she soon recovered; on 
 which she gazed on Mrs Hylton with a look of agonising 
 affection and apprehension. 
 
 She lay in Mrs Hylton's arms, with her raven tresses 
 slightly disturbed, and straying over her pale but exqui- 
 sitely beautiful features, Mrs Hylton gently rearrangmg her 
 truant locks, and fondly kissing her forehead, as Mr Hylton 
 entered; and Mrs Hylton motioned liim to withdraw. — " No, 
 no, no I" said Lady Emily, extending her hand to him : " I 
 am better now!" 
 
 " Why, what is all this?" inquired Mr Hylton, sufficiently 
 surprised. 
 
 " I rather suddenly told dear Lady Emily where you had 
 been," replied Mrs Hylton, anxiously. 
 
 " I am soiTy for that, Mary," said he rather displeasedly ; 
 and he tenderly took Lady Emily by the hand, and seated 
 himself beside her. 
 
86 NOAV AND THEN. 
 
 " How is the poor creature ? " she inqmred faintly. 
 
 " We will talk about this on some other occasion," said 
 he. But Lady Emily would not have the question thus 
 parried, and repeated it. 
 
 " She is certainly in a sad state," said Mr Ilylton, sighing, 
 and looking very grave. 
 
 " Is there any danger?" she inquired, slightly trembling. 
 
 " My dear Lady Emily, you have suffering enough at the 
 Castle ; I cannot add to what so oppresses you ! " 
 
 " But how is this poor Avoman ?" she repeated firmly ; 
 and Mr Hylton's acute eye detected in her tone and look 
 a momentary resemblance to her father's peremptory spirit. 
 
 " She is, alas ! at death's door ! " 
 
 Lady Emily remained for several moments silent, and 
 visibly agitated. 
 
 " What sort of a character has she borne?" 
 
 "Oh, poor soul!" interposed Mrs Hylton with sudden 
 energy, " she was one of the best, meekest, most self-denying 
 Clnistian creatures that I ever saw. I have, as you know, 
 brought her up from her early youth." 
 
 Again Lady Emily was silent. " She must not want for 
 any thing, dear Mr Hylton," said she suddenly. 
 
 " She is well cared for at our excellent infirmary ; and as 
 for her unfortunate child" — 
 
 "What! child!— has she a child?" said Lady Emily, 
 tremulously. 
 
 " Yes ! but such a poor little lame, injured creature ! " 
 
 Lady Emily burst into tears. " May God protect it ! " 
 said he at length : " Where is it?" 
 
NOW AND THEN. 87 
 
 " It is taken care of by a woman, at one of the cottages." 
 
 ''How old is it?" 
 
 " Not mucli more than a year." 
 
 "Nearly the same age!" exclaimed Lady Emily, half 
 unconsciously; sighing, and apparently falling into a mo- 
 mentary reverie. " You said that it was lame and injured ; 
 how came it to be so, dear Mrs Hylton ?" 
 
 " It was always a feeble child, and when not much more 
 than eight months old had a sad fall, which nearly killed 
 it, and has left it lame for life, and a little deformed in the 
 back," said Mrs Hylton. 
 
 " How dreadful ! " exclaimed Lady Emily, with a shud- 
 der : " Are you sure that the poor little thing is with a 
 careful woman ? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " But who pays her to attend to it?" 
 
 "My dear husband," quickly replied Mrs Hylton, her 
 eyes filling with tears ; not caring for his displeasure, and 
 only too proud of his conduct. 
 
 " I have ten guineas here," said Lady Emily, opening 
 her purse eagerly, and emptying its contents into Jjlrs 
 I Hylton's lap : " I don't want them ; I have more money 
 than I can use ; and I will bring you fifteen more to-morrow ; 
 and pray let both the mother and the child have proper 
 attention paid to them." 
 
 " My dear Lady Emily," commenced Mr and Mrs Hylton 
 in a breath, " the half of what you have now given us will 
 suffice for nearly a year." 
 
 " Never mind, keep it all, and to-morrow I will give you 
 
88 NOW AND THEN. 
 
 the remainder ! It is really nothing to me, I assure you ; 
 my dear papa is very, very liberal to me : I cannot spend 
 a tenth part of what he gives me." 
 
 " Well, then, dear Lady Emily," said Mr Hylton, with 
 energy, '' I will be the almoner of your bounty willingly 
 and carefully." 
 
 " But don't let it be known where this trifle comes from, 
 dear Mr Hylton, lest my papa should happen to hear of it 
 and be displeased ; for he might think it undutiful in me. 
 Will you, now, promise me this?" continued Lady Emily, 
 winningly, but earnestly. 
 
 " I will— we both will," replied Mr Hylton ; ^' and you 
 have in part anticipated something of what I intended to 
 ask you, Lady Emily." 
 
 " What is that ?" she inquired, anxiously. 
 
 " iVfter what you have said, it seems hardly necessary j 
 but I was about to have entreated you on no account to 
 mention either of these poor bemgs to your harassed father, 
 the Earl." 
 
 " Oh mercy ! mention them to him?" exclaimed Lady 
 Emily, with a great start ; ^' oh no ! not for the whole world! 
 The very thought makes me tremble. Not that he might 
 — but — consider 1''^ — she paused, and looked anxiously at 
 Mr and Mrs Hylton, who assured her that they perfectly 
 understood her meanmg, and profoundly sympathised with 
 the afflicted Earl. With this she rose to depart ; and, kissing 
 Mrs Hylton, promised to call the next day with the fifteen 
 guineas. Mr Hylton then led her to the carriage, m which 
 sat one of her maids, wondering at her Ladyship's prolonged 
 
NOW AND THEN. 89 
 
 Stay at the parsonage. As they drove rapidly away, 
 " There goes an angel in human form !" said Mr and Mrs 
 Hylton to each other. Ah ! what a contrast did the youth- 
 ful Lady Emily present before the eye of Mr Hylton, to her 
 inaccessible and implacable parent ! — for such, alas ! he but 
 too plainly appeared to Mr Hylton, on the very first occa- 
 sion on which the Earl and he had said any thing to each 
 other at all bearing on the recent calamity. Three times 
 had the Earl's carriage appeared before the parsonage, 
 since the funeral, to convey Mr and ]\Irs Hylton, on a 
 friendly invitation, to the Castle, to dine with its taciturn 
 and gloomy lord and Lady Emily ; and when she and Mrs 
 Hylton had withdrawn to Lady Alkmond's chamber, Mr 
 Hylton felt oppressed by witnessing in liis companion a 
 misery incapable of rehef. He had long before thoroughly 
 mastered the Earl's idiosyncracy, and perceived and 
 lamented his utterly insufficient notions of rehgion. A thou- 
 sand times had he striven with all the delicacy and tact of 
 which he was m^aster, and of much indeed he was master, to 
 turn the Earl's attention mward upon himself, but in vain : 
 feeling himself ever courteously, though sometimes rather 
 sternly, repulsed. About a fortnight after Lady Emily's 
 visit to the parsonage, Mr Hylton made his appearance at 
 the Castle, on one of those cheerless occasions which have 
 just been spoken of; and on being left alone, as usual, after 
 dinner, the Earl produced a sheet of paper, containing a 
 Latin inscription, which he had been framing during the 
 day, for a tablet or monument which he meditated erecting 
 in memory of his son. The language was quite unexcep- 
 
90 NOAV AND THEN. 
 
 tionable ; tlie Earl being noted for his elegant scliolarsliip. 
 Mr Hylton read it attentively twice or thrice, and then laid 
 it down before tho Earl in silence. 
 
 " Has it your approbation, Mr Hylton?" said his Lord- 
 ship, with a melancholy air. 
 
 " The Latinity, my Lord, is, as I expected, faultless," 
 replied Mr Hylton, with a certain significance of manner 
 which arrested the attention of his noble companion ; who 
 remained silent for a few moments, while he cast his eye 
 over the paper ; and then said, 
 
 " I presume the matter, Mr Hylton, is unobjectionable as 
 the manner? — I composed it in a sad spirit, I assure you." 
 Mr Hylton remained silent, apparently absorbed in thought. 
 *' Pray, teU me frankly, Mr Hylton," said the Earl, with 
 slight displeasure in his tone, " are you now thinking ^j>am- 
 fully^ or disapprovingly, about what you have just read?" 
 
 " My Lord," repHed Mr Hylton solemnly, '^ I have been 
 thinking how this inscription at this moment appears before 
 the eyes of Him, whose minister and servant I am !" 
 
 '' Lideed, sir !" said the Earl haughtily; '-'■ and are you 
 intimating that it w^ould not bear the scrutiny?" 
 
 " I fear not, my Lord, if I have read the New Testament 
 aright. But pardon me, my Lord ; if you will favour me 
 for a day with that paper, I will give your Lordship my 
 written sentiments on the subject ; and I need hardly say, 
 with all respect and faithfulness." 
 
 " I will consider of it, sir," said the Earl gloomily, en- 
 deavouring to repress a sigh, as he returned the paper to 
 his pocket-book. 
 
NOW AND THEN. 91 
 
 " There is no living being, my Lord, I verily believe," 
 said Mr Hylton, earnestly, " who wishes better to your 
 Lordship than I do, and few who think of your Lordship 
 more frequently and anxiously. Even should your Lordship 
 not feel disposed to honour me with that paper, may I ask 
 permission to send your Lordship my written impressions 
 concernmg it ; chiefly upon one expression ?" 
 
 " I think, sir, I know now to what you allude ;" said the 
 Earl, wdth a lowering brow, and a stately courtesy of man- 
 ner ; " but I have considered the subject, and deem the 
 expression unobjectionable : if I should feel disposed to 
 consult you upon the matter again, I will receive your 
 opinion in writing." 
 
 "My dear Lord, forgive me if, when appealed to, a 
 solemn sense of duty forces me" — 
 
 " I thank you, Mr Hylton ; but we need at present dis- 
 cuss this matter no further," said the Earl coldly. 
 
 " Be it so, my Lord," replied Mr Hylton sadly ; and 
 after a brief interval of chilling silence, they separated ; the 
 Earl with feelings of suppressed indignation and gloomy 
 excitement, Mr Hylton with concern and apprehension. 
 Had he been a mere man of the world, he would have felt 
 the supercilious demeanour and treatment of the Earl to be 
 intolerable ; but he knew himself to be invested with a 
 holier character, to be engaged on a great and arduous 
 mission, of which as yet scarcely any thing had been accom- 
 plished. With w^hat different feelmgs he quitted the Uttle 
 cottage of old Ayliffe, where he was a very frequent visitor ; 
 on every occasion conceivmg a more and more exalted 
 
92 NOW AND THEN. 
 
 opinion of him, standing upon earth welhiigh alone in his 
 misery, but not forgotten by his God ! He was kept from 
 the work-house, a destination of which he had all a true 
 Englishman's horror, solely by the kindness of a few neigh- 
 bouring farmers and Mr Hylton; all of whom, understanding 
 his feelings, contrived to find him such sort of employment 
 for a portion of each day as supplied his slight wants, and 
 left him tune for frequent inquiries after each of the scattered 
 members of his family — his infant grandson, his dying 
 daughter-in-law, liis death-doomed son. On one or other of 
 these sad errands he was to be seen engaged almost every 
 day, in all weathers, an object of universal respect and 
 sympathy. Little, however, spoke he to any one but Mr 
 Hylton ; for his heart was sorely oppressed with fear on 
 accomit of the peril of his son, suddenly charged as that son 
 was with so tremendous a crime, and looked on with horror 
 by the whole kingdom, as too truly was reported to the old 
 man : a son who had passed all his life, till that moment, 
 peacefully and virtuously. Late of nights might a curious 
 passer-by have observed a faint light within old AylifFe's 
 solitary cottage ; and on looking closely, seen him at one 
 time poring over his Bible, at another on his knees. And 
 early in the cheerless mornings, and later in the more 
 cheerless evenmgs than others were found stirring, might he 
 have been seen standing silently in the churchyard, beside 
 the grave of his wife, with thoughts solemn and unutterable. 
 " Here," would he say within himself, '' the wicked cease 
 from troiibling^ and the loeary are at rest ! And in God's 
 good time I may lay my bones beside thee, Sarah, that we 
 
NOW AND THEN. 93 
 
 may moulder away together, till the day when we rise 
 again, and see the meaning of every thing that hath befallen 
 us here !" 
 
 In the mean time thicker and thicker darkness gathered 
 around poor young Ayliffe, as the dreaded Assize-time drew 
 near. The active kindness of Mr Hylton, and a few of the 
 chief inhabitants of the village, had provided the prisoner 
 with professional assistance, in preparing for his defence ; 
 but as time wore on, it somehow or other got abroad, that 
 that the skilful and experienced attorney who had been 
 retained looked disheartened about the busmess, though 
 knowing his duty better than to speak despondingly to any 
 one but the prisoner : whom he told, and sickened in telling, 
 that though he verily believed him to be innocent, he could 
 not see how the judge and jury were to be brought to look 
 at the affair in the same light, without witnesses to guide 
 them. Many and anxious were the conversations between 
 Mr Hylton and old Ayliffe, on the dismal subject of the 
 approaching trial ; and more and more frequent their 
 interviews became, as the time of that trial drew nearer. 
 The miserable old man was wasted, so to speak, to a 
 shadow ; and but for the patient indulgence of his agonised 
 inquiries by Mr Hylton, an overstrained and overburthened 
 mind might have given way. Little, indeed, could be 
 conscientiously said to him to sustain hopes of a favourable 
 issue ; Mr Hylton dweUing, on the contrary, strongly upon 
 the dreadful directness of the evidence which it was under- 
 stood was ready to be brought forward. The old man, 
 however, gave implicit credit to his son's protestations, not 
 
9-i NOW AND THEN. 
 
 only of innocence, but of total ignorance who the murderers 
 were, or why the murder had been committed. 
 
 "But why went Adam that night to the wood? Wliy 
 were his clothes stained with blood ? Why did he run from 
 the wood with that bloody staff, as for his life?" asked 
 Mr Ilylton : " these, as I have often told you, my poor 
 friend, arc questions which it is very terrible to hear asked, 
 and not satisfactorily answered !" 
 
 " Sir, I do verily believe," rephed Ayliffe, " that he can 
 show why he did all these thmgs, and is yet innocent." 
 
 "Can he? Can he? How?" inquired Mr Hylton 
 anxiously. " What witnesses has he ?" 
 
 His companion pressed his hand against his forehead : 
 " May the Lord have mercy on him, poor soul !" said he ; 
 " I misgive me that he hath not any witnesses to speak for 
 him ; but he may surely, when he is on trial, say what is 
 the truth of the matter, and God may put it into the hearts 
 of those whom he pleads before to believe him ; for I will 
 swear for him, that he never did speak an untrue word that 
 I know of in his life : and as for cruelty — why, he hath the 
 heart of a veiy woman, for all his strength and spirit ! Oh, 
 sir, why should poor Adam do this bloody wickedness? 
 What hate had he against the young Lord ?" 
 
 "Adam," said Mr Hylton, looking steadfastly at Ayliffe, 
 " that is likely to be an awful question, from what I have 
 heard. 'Tis whispered that they can show malice, on your 
 son's part, towards the late Lord Alkmond ; that he hath 
 been heard to mutter" — 
 
 While Mr Hylton spoke, a sickening change came 
 
NOW AND THEN. 95 
 
 over the features of the old man, and he ahnost groaned 
 aloud. 
 
 "What! do you fear," said Mr Hylton khidly, "that 
 any may be commg to swear falsely against him?" 
 
 Ayliffe remained silent, and looked the picture of despair ; 
 for while Mr Hylton was dwelling, in his own mind, on the 
 expressions wliicli he knew that young Ayliffe would be 
 shown to have let fall, when he was convicted for unlawfully 
 having possession of the hare, the old man suddenly 
 recollected, for the first time since his son's arrest, his sullen 
 refusal to stay and salute the young Lord, as he passed the 
 cottage on coming down from London, and the strong 
 expressions accompanying that refusal. And with those 
 expressions were quickly associated certain others, which also 
 old Ayliffe had till then forgotten, and which, thus combined, 
 and coupled with the suggestion thrown out by Mr Hylton, 
 suddenly acquired a significance that was appalling. The 
 old man staggered under the shock ; and the doubts and 
 fears which had vanished before his son's solemn asseveration 
 of innocence, when first his father saw him in gaol, now 
 reappeared with tenfold force. Mr Hylton perceived that 
 the unhappy father's misery had reached its climax ; for his 
 long and fondly cherished confidence in his son's truth and 
 innocence seemed suddenly shattered. Mr Hylton spoke 
 with infinite kindness to him, but in a very guarded way. 
 
 "Tell me, Adam," said he, "if you choose, what is the 
 explanation which your son is going to give, of the strange 
 and horrid circumstances in which he was found : you may 
 do so with perfect safety, for, on consideration, I can see no 
 
96 NOW AND THEN. 
 
 impropriety in my hearing, though I am a magistrate, what 
 his defence is hkcly to be." 
 
 On this AyhfFc told Mr Ilylton what his son's statement 
 was; and Mr Ilylton listened to it with deep attention. 
 
 " That is the whole matter, sir," said the old man as he 
 concluded ; adding with a grave eagerness, " and dost not 
 thou beheve it, sir ? Ay, ay, thou wouldst, knowing but 
 my son as well as 1 do, sir!" 
 
 " Let me consider a Httle, Adam — let me consider," said 
 Mr Hylton seriously. 
 
 Old Ayliffe gazed at him with intense anxiety for some 
 minutes, during which ^Mr Hylton was evidently deep in 
 thought. 
 
 ''Of course, all this has been told to your attorney?" at 
 length he inquired. 
 
 "Every word on't, sir — every word!" answered Ayliffe 
 eagerly. 
 
 " And what says he of it ?" 
 
 " Why, sir, I cannot rightly make out ; only that it is a 
 serious business, such as a counsellor must decide on ; and 
 that it will clear my son, if it be believed; but, sir, I would 
 rather know what thou dost think on't?" 
 
 Mr Hylton shook his head. " Why, Adam, the account 
 he gives is strange, very strange ; it may be quite true, but 
 much discretion, methinks, will be required on the part of 
 your son's counsel. I am glad, my friend, that he has so 
 shrewd and experienced an attorney as has been engaged 
 for him ; and for the rest, may God detect the guilty, and 
 vindicate the innocent." 
 
NOW AND THEN. 97 
 
 "Amen, sir," said the old man ; and, Mr Hylton having 
 bade him adieu, with earnest cordiality he betook himself 
 homeward, but with such direful misgivings as kept him 
 awake the live-long night ; and Mr Hylton himself spent 
 some hours in revolving what he had heard, but without 
 being able to come to any satisfactory conclusion. His first 
 impression, however, when he woke in the morning, was that 
 poor young Ayliife's doom was sealed. 
 
 A few evenings before the commencement of the Assizes, 
 Mr Hylton was at the Castle, whither he had been summoned 
 to read the service for the Visitation of the Sick, in the 
 chamber of Lady Alkmond. The Earl and Lady Emily were 
 present, as had been the case on several previous occasions ; 
 and on that now referred to, the Earl, who had been 
 during the day grievously depressed by the precarious 
 condition of Lady Alkmond, requested Mr Hylton, on 
 quitting the chamber, to accompany him for a few moments 
 to the library. On bemg seated, " Mr Hylton," said his 
 Lordship, whose manner was so subdued as to give infinite 
 satisfaction to the pious mind of Mr Hylton, " it has been 
 this morning intimated to me that you are about to give 
 evidence, at the approaching trial, in favour of the prisoner," 
 —pausing as he uttered the word, — '' as far as his previous 
 character is concerned." 
 
 " I am, my Lord," replied Mr Hylton with energy — " most 
 warm and willing testimony, most decisive testimony: 
 would to God, indeed, that I could speak in the like terms, 
 and with the same justice, of many others of my parishioners, 
 
 H 
 
98 NOW AND THEN. 
 
 as I shall speak on the dark day, that draws near, on behalf 
 of these AylifFes, father and son. A more exemplary little 
 family I never knew nor heard of; and I consider the old 
 man, my Lord, to be a very fine character. He trained up 
 his son as a Christian, and showed hmi the life of one. It is 
 he, old Adam AylifFe" — 
 
 " I wish merely to assure you, Mr Hylton," replied the 
 Earl, with much of his usual haughtiness of manner, " that I 
 can have no objection to your giving favourable testimony 
 on behalf of the prisoner, as far as you conscientiously can 
 do such a thing." 
 
 " Forgive me, my dear Lord," said Mr Hylton, with 
 dignity, " if I feel impelled to say, that I need to ask no 
 consent or permission, from any one living, to do that which 
 is a duty incumbent upon me !" 
 
 This was said with a calm firmness, very perceptible to the 
 Earl, who appeared for some moments as if about to say 
 somethmg in reply ; but rather abruptly, and with a stern 
 com-tesy, he wished Mr Hylton good evening, and they 
 parted. As the latter was passing, in deep meditation, through 
 a long and dusky corridor which led to that part of the 
 Castle by which he usually quitted, he thought he heard the 
 faint sound of steps hastenmg towards him, and the rustling 
 of a lady's di'css. Nor was he mistaken : for Lady Emily, 
 with her finger on her lips, and a furtive glance round, 
 hastily approached him, and whispered hurriedly, but softly, 
 ^' How is that poor woman at the infirmary ?" 
 
 " She remains barely alive, dear Lady Emily." 
 
NOW AND THEN. 99 
 
 " Is she resigned, poor creature?" 
 
 " I think so ; but she is often miserable, and her mind, 
 latterly, wanders much." 
 
 " Could she be better cared for if she were removed to 
 a private house?" 
 
 " Certainly not, my dear Lady Emily ; she cannot 
 possibly have better nursing and medical attendance than 
 she has now. I have myself given special instructions on 
 the subject." 
 
 " And," her voice faltered, " that wi'etched little being, 
 her poor child, is it — " 
 
 At that moment were heard distant footsteps, which both 
 Lady Emily and Mr Hylton recognised as those of the Earl 5 
 and Lady Emily vanished as though she had been a spirit. 
 
100 NOW AND THEN. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 At length arrived the day of the great murder trial, which 
 the judges of Assize had fixed for Friday — a day always, 
 in those times, when practicable, named for cases of murder, 
 with the humane view of giving, in the event of conviction, 
 as long an interval as possible for carrying into effect the 
 dreadful sentence of the law ; which then recjuired execution 
 for murder to be done on the day next but one after convic- 
 tion, unless that day should be Sunday ; and then, on the 
 Monday following. There were two other capital cases 
 coming on early in the Assizes, but of no public interest ; 
 being only those of a farmer's man, for stealing a pair of 
 shoes from a booth in a fair, and another for taking a cheese, 
 in the night-time, out of a dairy — both the offenders being 
 found with the stolen property upon them ! These were, 
 therefore, simple cases, and could be quickly disposed of. 
 But the great murder trial appeared to have attracted nearly 
 half the county into the Assize town, besides many persons 
 of quahty from distant parts of the country. The case was 
 to be tried before the Lord Chief Justice, who was a humane 
 man, and a great law}-er; and the Solicitor-General had 
 come do^\Ti, on the part of the Crown, to conduct a case of 
 
NOW AND THEN. 10"^ 
 
 such public Interest and importance. The town was astir 
 from four o'clock in the morning ; since which hour a great 
 number of country-folk, who had walked five, ten, and even 
 fifteen miles, had been standing outside the gaol, till the 
 doors should be opened. There were upwards of a thousand 
 people thus collected, being very many more than by any 
 means could be got into the gallery ; and as for the body 
 of the court, and the bench, all that part had been allotted 
 to persons of distinction, long beforehand, by orders from the 
 Sheriff. At a few minutes before nine o'clock, the Judge 
 was to be seen, sitting in his imposing scarlet and ermine 
 robes in the Sheriff's coach, preceded by a troop of javelin- 
 men and trumpeters ; and so excited was the crowd, through 
 which they slowly passed, that many of them thought there 
 was something very startling and dismal in the sounds of 
 the trumpets on that morning. The Judge, who was noted 
 for pmictuality, took his seat while the clock was striking 
 nine. On sitting down, he seemed for a moment to be 
 adjusting his robes ; but he was also secretly disposmg Ms 
 hlach cap^ so as to have it in readiness against a sad event 
 which, having read what had been deposed to before the 
 Coroner's jury, and the magistrates who had committed the 
 prisoner, his Lordship foresaw was but too likely to happen. 
 This done, he leaned back for a moment, and, while the stir 
 raised by his entrance was subsiding, looked around him 
 with grave composure, not at all surprised at the prodigious 
 number of people who were present. On the bench near him , 
 were noblemen and gentlemen of high rank, (but no ladies, 
 as now-a-days happens,) whom he knew w^ell, but then took 
 
102 NOW AND THEN. 
 
 no notice of whatever. The seats round and beneath him 
 were crowded by counsel : among whom, facing the jury- 
 box, was Mr Sc^icitor-General, who had a grave, care-worn 
 face ; and a Kttlc to his right was the comisel engaged on 
 behalf of the prisoner, but only to cross-examine the wit- 
 nesses, or (if he could) detect an objection to the proceed- 
 ings, in point of law — the law not allowing him to say one 
 word for his client to the jury. Next to him sat his attor- 
 ney, and both of them looked very anxious. Beside the 
 attorney who conducted the case for the Crown, sate the 
 Earl's sohcitor and Mr Oxley. In the magistrates' box 
 might have been seen Mr Hylton, looking pale and har- 
 assed. Just before taking his seat, he had quitted poor old 
 AylifFe, whom, with infinite effort, he had at length pre- 
 vailed upon to remam out of court, in a room close by, with 
 every comfort kindly provided for him by the High Sheriff. 
 From the moment that Mr Hylton sat do^vn, he seemed 
 buried m his own thoughts — his head leaning on his hands, 
 which quite covered his agitated face. ''Put the prisoner 
 to the bar," said the officer of the court, to the gaoler, and 
 there was instantly a solemn silence, broken presently by 
 the clanking sound of irons; and amidst beating hearts, 
 hurried breathing, and eyes intently fixed on the dock, there 
 slowly approached it, accompanied by two gaolers, and 
 walldng, not without difficulty, in his heavy irons, a tall 
 marvellously well-proportioned man, apparently about thirty 
 years old, with a countenance that, especially irradiated, as 
 it happened just then to be, by a transient gleam of sunshine, 
 said instantly to all present that it could never be that of 
 
NOW AND THEN. 103 
 
 a MURDERER. All were struck by it. ' Twas a frank manly 
 face, of a dauntless English cast, yet looked somewhat ema- 
 ciated from illness and confinement. But for this, there was 
 not among the gentle or simple who beheld him a finer 
 specimen of the Saxon countenance, including even the 
 colour and disposition of his hair, somewhat disordered 
 though it seemed. He stood straight upright at the bar, 
 with an air of manly and somewhat indignant confidence ; 
 having bowed decorously to the Judge, who was eyeing him 
 very earnestly. His pale face had reddened a little, as he 
 first encountered so exciting a scene, on an occasion to him 
 so unspeakably awful and momentous. His light blue eyes 
 spoke most eloquently in his favour, being full of intelligence 
 and spirit, and indicative of goodness ; but there was much 
 in them that told of sufiering. While the Judge gazed at 
 him the favourable impression created by his countenance 
 and demeanour was deepening, but was presently efiaced, 
 by habitual caution, and a recollection of what he had read 
 concerning the case in the depositions. 
 
 "Adam Ayliffe," said the Clerk of Assize, "hold up thy 
 hand!" The prisoner obeyed, holding up his right hand, 
 which was observed to quiver a little. Had that liand^ 
 thought every body, done the deed of blood that was now 
 to be inquired into ? Then the Clerk of Assize proceeded, 
 — "Thou standest indicted by the name of Adam Ayliffe, 
 late of the Parish of Milverstoke, in this County, labourer, 
 for that thou, not having the fear of God before thine eyes, 
 but being moved and seduced by the instigation of the devil, 
 on the 31st day of December last, in the Parish of Milver- 
 
104 NOW AND THEN. 
 
 stoke, in this County, in and upon one FitzStephen GeofFiy 
 Lionel Bcvyllc, Esquire, commonly called Viscount Alk- 
 mond, in the peace of God and of our Lord the King- then 
 and there being, feloniously, wilfully, and of thy mahce 
 aforethought, didst make an assault, and then and there 
 with a certain bludgeon, in thy right hand then and there 
 held, in and upon the head of him, then and there feloniously, 
 wilfully, and with malice aforethought, with the bludgeon 
 aforesaid, didst give him a mortal wound, whereof he then 
 and there mstantly died ; and so him, the said FitzStephen 
 Geoffry Lionel Bevylle, in manner and form aforesaid, thou 
 feloniously, wilfully, and of thy malice aforethought, didst 
 thereby, then, and there kill and murder, against the peace of 
 our said Lord the King, his crowTi and dignity. How sayest 
 thou, Adam AyliiFe? art thou guilty of the murder and felony 
 with which thou standest indicted, or not guilty ?" 
 
 "Not guilty! not guilty!" said the prisoner quickly, 
 with great energy, and his chest visibly heaved. 
 
 "How wilt thou be tried ?" 
 
 " By God and my country," replied the prisoner, prompted 
 by one of the turnkeys near him. 
 
 "God send thee a good deliverance ! " quoth the Clerk of 
 Assize. 
 
 "Let the prisoner's irons be removed," said the Judge, 
 after having spoken privately to the Sheriff; who had told 
 him of the prisoner's recent severe illness, that no rescue 
 had ever been attempted, and that no violence was to be 
 apprehended. 
 
 On this the irons were knocked off, during which process 
 
NOW AND THEN, 
 
 105 
 
 the Clerk of Assize thus addi'essed him :— "Prisoner at the 
 bar 1 Those good men whose names thou wilt now hear 
 called over, are the Jury, who are to pass between our 
 Sovereign Lord the King and thee, upon thy trial. If, 
 therefore, thou wouldst challenge them, or any of them, 
 thou must do so when each comes to the book to be sworn, 
 and before he is sworn, and thou shalt be heard. " 
 
 The prisoner listened to this brief but significant address 
 so intently as to be apparently unaware of the act by which 
 he was being liberated from his irons. 
 
 Every juryman was then thus publicly and separately 
 sworn by the crier : — " Thou shalt well and truly try, and 
 true dehverance make, between our Sovereign Lord the 
 King and the prisoner at the bar, whom thou shalt have in 
 charge ; and a true verdict give, accordmg to the evidence. 
 So help thee God 1" 
 
 When the twelve had been counted aloud, one by one, 
 and their names called over, the crier thus made proclama- 
 tion : — "If any one can inform my Lords the King's Justices, 
 the King's Serjeant, or Attorney-General, on this Inquest to 
 be now taken between our Sovereign Lord the King and 
 the prisoner at the bar, of any treasons, murders, felonies, or 
 misdemeanours done or committed by the prisoner at the 
 bar, let him come forth, and he shall be heard, for the 
 prisoner now stands upon his deliverance ; and . let all 
 persons bound, by their recognisance, to prosecute or give 
 evidence against the prisoner at the bar, come forth and give 
 evidence, or they will forfeit their recognisances." After a 
 moment's pause, the Clerk of Assize said to the prisoner. 
 
106 NOW AND THEN. 
 
 "Adam AylifFe, hold up thy hand !" and, on his doing so, thus 
 addressed the jury — '^ Gentlemen of the jury, look upon the 
 prisoner, and hearken to his charge." Then he read the 
 substance of the indictment, and proceeded, — " Upon this 
 indictment the prisoner hath been arraigned : upon his 
 arraignment he hath pleaded Not guilty. Your charge, 
 therefore, is to inquire whether he be guilty or not guilty, 
 and to hearken to the evidence." 
 
 The Solicitor-General, on rising to state the case to the 
 jury, tm-ned for a moment to the Judge, and whispered ; on 
 which, " Prisoner," said the Judge, with a kind and dig- 
 nified air, "I hear that you have been ill, and may be 
 unable, with comfort, to stand ; you may therefore be seated, 
 if you choose." 
 
 " I would rather stand, my Lord, till I cannot — with 
 thanks to your Lordship," replied AylifFe, with an air of 
 respectful firmness which pleased every body ; and the next 
 moment Mr Solicitor-General had commenced his speech to 
 the jury — speaking with a directness and cogency utterly 
 sickening to all who felt any interest in him whose 
 life depended on the proof, or disproof, of what was being 
 stated in that brief speech. Mr Solicitor made, indeed, a 
 very plain case of it. 
 
 " That a foul and bloody murder (it signified nought that 
 it had been done upon a young nobleman, more than upon 
 any other person, high or low, man, woman, or child, in the 
 land) had been committed, was beyond all reasonable doubt 
 whatever ; and the only question that day to be tried was, 
 whether the prisoner had done that murder. He is seen," 
 
NOW AND THEN. 107 
 
 continued Mr Solicitor, " as yon will be told by the witnesses 
 within a few yards of the place where lay the newly 
 murdered body ; his clothes have a great stain of blood on 
 them ; he has a club with him, which, marked with blood, is 
 found in his house ; he flies, as for his life, from the spot 
 where the body lay ; and, being hotly pursued, reaches home 
 with this blood on him, and this club with him ; and, while 
 panting and affrighted, is arrested. This of itself surely 
 is the very case put by my Lord Coke, as that of a most 
 violent presumption of guilt ; and his words are these : '• It is, 
 if one be mn through the body with a sword, in a house, 
 whereof he mstantly dieth, and a man is seen to come out 
 of that house with a bloody sword, and no other man was 
 at that time in the house.' If the prisoner answer not ; nor 
 explain away what will be proved against him ; nor show 
 how he came to be in my Lord Milverstoke's wood that 
 evening, at that very time, and to be running away bloody, 
 and with a bloody weapon capable of domg the deed, and 
 yet quite imconcemed in, and ignorant of, this most bar- 
 barous and horrid murder — why, gentlemen, what shall be 
 said ? Whatever must, in such case, be said, it is for you 
 alone to say. But the Crown will, as I am instructed, carry 
 this matter much further than even all this ; and will show 
 an evil will and malice aforethought of the man at the bar, 
 towards my Lord Milverstoke and his late son, the murdered 
 person, arising, so I am told, out of some angry feeling at 
 the desire of my Lord Milverstoke to become the purchaser 
 of some cottage property of the prisoner's father; but 
 more especially because of a poaching affair, which had 
 
108 NOW AND THEN. 
 
 occiUTcd only some week or so previously to the murder — 
 and on that occasion the prisoner was convicted of poaching 
 on my Lord Milverstoke's land,"— here the prisoner made 
 some eager gesture of dissent, but was anxiously motioned 
 to silence by his advisers — " and then let fall some expres- 
 sions which I shall leave to a witness to tell you, and 
 which will, I fear, be thought by you to have a serious 
 bearmg on this case. These, gentlemen, are the facts 
 which, I am told, we shall prove most clearly before you : 
 so that, you see, however dreadful the consequences of this 
 crime, and exalted the position in society of the victim and 
 his bereaved relatives, with whom there is, as there surely 
 ought to be, a universal sympathy, the case is short and 
 simple on the part of the Crown, who have no wish (God 
 forbid that they should have) to press on the prisoner. 
 He may not make his defence before you by counsel — such 
 is the law of the land, be it good, be it bad — but this I 
 know, it secures him a counsel in the judge who tries him, 
 and who will take all fitting care of his interests, as well 
 as those of the public." 
 
 With this Mr Solicitor-General sat down ; and the case 
 was not long in bemg proved, much as the reader has it 
 already. The head-keeper and two under-keepers were 
 called as witnesses, and explained that, as they were going 
 their customary rounds, they heard, some twenty or thirty 
 yards off from a particular spot where they were, a dull 
 heavy sound, followed by a fall, then something like a 
 faint groan or sigh, and footsteps. " Hallo !" cried the 
 head-keeper, "what is that?" Then all three pushed on. 
 
NOW AND THEN. 109 
 
 spreading a few yards from each other, when, just as they 
 had got into a pathway, one of them stumbled over the 
 body of Lord Alkmond, and cried '' Murder;" while the two 
 others, hearmg running footsteps, followed in their direction 
 till they caught sight of the prisoner ; and, after he had 
 cleared the wall and got into the high road, fired after him in- 
 effectually ; and finally he was arrested, in the manner which 
 has been described. His Lordship was in dinner dress, but 
 had put on a dark great-coat before quitting the Castle ; and 
 nothing about his person had been taken away,or disturbed. 
 The doctor who had been called in described the blow 
 which Lord Alkmond had been struck, to have been most 
 tremendous, such as that death must have followed almost 
 instantly ; and that the blow had been given by some heavy 
 blmit mstrument, and fi'om behind. Then was produced 
 the thick oaken stick which was proved to have been taken 
 from the prisoner's house, a day or two after the murder, 
 and which still bore blood-stains on it. (At all this the 
 prisoner was much agitated, using vehement gestures, which 
 were with difficulty restrained by his advisers beneath, and 
 the turnkeys behind him.) The doctor said, upon being 
 asked the question, that such an instrument was quite 
 sufficient to occasion the blow which Lord Alkmond had 
 received, and from which he had died. 
 
 " Nay ! God help me, but it is not true ! — it cannot be ! — 
 it is not so !" exclaimed the prisoner, with agitation ; but 
 he was temperately checked by the Judge. 
 
 Then were produced, by the constable, the clothes which 
 the prisoner had worn, when arrested. The left sleeve of 
 
110 NOW AND THEN. 
 
 tlic coat must, on that night, have been almost soaked in 
 blood ; and other parts of his dress had also marks of blood 
 on them. The prisoner turned ghastly white as these dumb 
 witnesses were arrayed before him and the jury ; there was 
 agony in his averted eye ; and he shuddered — so indeed 
 did most of those in court : and his agitation at that moment 
 did him mischief, perhaps irreparable, m the minds of the 
 
 Then was called Mr Oxley — and the prisoner changed 
 colour on hearing the name. This proved to be, indeed, a 
 terrible witness : for, speaking in a mild and somewhat pre- 
 possessing way, and with a show of reluctance, he yet 
 mentioned expressions used by the prisoner, which, in the 
 judgment of every body present, established great ill-will 
 towards the noble owner of Milverstoke. He said that he 
 feared the beginning of the son's grudge was the Earl's 
 having bought, on several occasions, parts of a little property 
 owned by the prisoner's father, and showing a desire, through 
 the witness, to pm'chase the remamder, but at a price vastly 
 beyond its value. That on one occasion the prisoner had 
 said to the witness, in a sullen way, " Those that live in the 
 cottage, may outlive those that live in the Castle !" 
 
 The prisoner, on hearing this, gave a prodigious start, 
 and a glance of wrathful astonishment at the witness, which 
 were observed by the watchful Judge. 
 
 " Was any one present, sir, besides you two, when this 
 was said?" inquired his Lordship, with a tincture of stern- 
 ness in his manner. 
 
 " No, my Lord ; we were alone," said the witness. 
 
NOW AND THEN. HI 
 
 " I never, never said such words — no, nor any like tliem 
 — nor ever thought them, good my Lord!" exclaimed the 
 prisoner, vehemently. 
 
 Mr Oxley looked sadly towards the jury, and shook his 
 head. Then he spoke of the conviction for poaching, of 
 which he made a far blacker business than the other. He 
 said that the prisoner, knowing the hare to have come from 
 Lord Milverstoke's land, muttered, thinking himself unheard 
 by any, and no one did hear him but the witness, " They 
 shall rue it that own that hareP 
 
 With this answer sat down, very gravely, the counsel for 
 the Crown ; but the prisoner became deadly pale, and said 
 aloud, in a kind of agony, to the counsellor beneath him — 
 " I said not so ! I never had a thought to say so ! O that 
 my poor life should thus be sworn away !" 
 
 On this his attorney got up, and whispered to him 
 earnestly, so did he to the attorney, and the latter to the 
 counsel, who thereupon rose, and was going to ask the 
 witness a question, when a piece of paper was handed to 
 him from the magistrate's box, written by Mr Hylton in 
 great agitation : it was this — " Ask Mr Oxley whether the 
 words did not apply to another, who had got him into 
 trouble by giving him the hare ; and whether they were 
 not — ' he shall rue it, that hrought me here ! ' Tell him 
 that this is written by one who was at the Justice's on that 
 day." 
 
 This question was closely pressed on Mr Oxley ; but he 
 said, with great firmness — '-'- No ; the words were as I have 
 sworn to them, and closely noted at the time, not liking 
 
112 NOW AND THEN. 
 
 the prisoner's looks. I thought of them often afterwards, 
 before tliis murder was committed ; but never dreamed of 
 any thing so bloody as this coming of it, or would have had 
 him bound in sureties of the peace, I waiTant you !" 
 
 " And will you say this, when those are present who 
 were then there?" 
 
 " Yes, I w^ill; whether they heard it or not, I cannot 
 tell; but I did. If they heard differently, let them say so." 
 
 Mr Oxley happened to know that Sir Henry Harring- 
 ton, the magistrate who had convicted poor Ayhffe, w^as 
 ill at home, of the gout. 
 
 " Did the magistrate's clerk hear it ? " inquired the 
 counsel for the prisoner, after much hesitation. 
 
 '•'' I cannot say : being busy, he might, or might not. I 
 have not spoken to him on the matter." 
 
 Several other questions the counsel was disposed to have 
 put, but refrained — perceiving, and having, indeed, been 
 assured, what sort of person the witness was, and how dis- 
 posed towards the prisoner; so he sat down, and Mr 
 Solicitor-General asked no further questions. 
 
 " But," said the Judge, in a calm and scrutinising way, 
 " Mr Oxley, you will be pleased to repeat the very self-same 
 words which you allege the prisoner to have used, on each 
 of the two occasions which you have spoken of." 
 
 Mr Oxley immediately did so, with the variation of only 
 an immaterial word or two. 
 
 " Do you positively sw^ear, sir, that his words before the 
 magistrate were not — ' He shall rue it, that brought me 
 here?'" 
 
NOW AND THEN. 113 
 
 " I do, my Lord. His words were — ' tliey that own tliat 
 hare.' " 
 
 " Is not the sound of the one somewhat hke that of the 
 other?" 
 
 " Not, my Lord — not as the prisoner pronounced it." 
 
 " Of course the man was present who had informed against 
 him?" 
 
 '' Yes, my lord ; he got half the penalty." 
 
 "• Did any thing pass between him and the prisoner?" 
 
 " Not that I saw or heard, my Lord." 
 
 " Are they neighbours?" 
 
 ''They live at some six miles' distance from each 
 other." 
 
 " What was the man's name ?" 
 
 " Jonas Hundle." 
 
 " Who or what is he ?" 
 
 " For aught I know, my Lord, a decent farming-man." 
 
 " Do you know how he came by the hare that he gave 
 or sold to the prisoner?" 
 
 " No, my Lord." 
 
 " Is Jonas Hundle still in that part of the country ?" 
 
 "Yes, my Lord; I saw him last week, hedging and 
 ditching." 
 
 " How came you to be at the magistrate's on that day, 
 sir?" 
 
 " I chanced to be there on other business with the justice's 
 clerk, and through one present offered the prisoner to pay the 
 fine for him, if he and his father would agree with the Earl 
 of Milverstoke about seUing theb cottage." 
 
114 NOW AND THEN. 
 
 " Did lie accept the ofFer?" 
 
 " Noj my Lord ; but used same horrid words concerning 
 the Earl, which I recollect not exactly." 
 
 ^' Have you and the prisoner ever had any dispute or 
 difference of any sort?' 
 
 " No, my lord," replied the witness resolutely ; " except 
 that he has sometimes made me angry by what he said 
 concerning the Earl and his family : otherwise we have 
 never fallen out." 
 
 " What sort of a character bears he ?" 
 
 Mr Oxley considered for a moment ; and then said, in 
 a very candid manner — " I never knew of any thing to 
 his disparagement, before this matter, and that of the hare, 
 were laid to his charge." 
 
 After a considerable pause, during which the Judge was 
 evidently engaged in deep thought — " Pray, Mr Oxley," 
 said he, " do you happen to know how Lord Alkmond came 
 to be in the woods at so late an hour, and alone ?" 
 
 "No, my Lord ; only I have heard — " 
 
 " That you cannot tell us, sir." 
 
 " But I know, my Lord, that when at Milverstoke, some 
 time before, his Lordship would take such walks, and go 
 alone." 
 
 His Lordship made a few notes, very deliberately ; and 
 then, laying down his pen, leaned back, and looked gloomily 
 thoughtful. " Call back Mr Oxley," said he, just as Mr 
 Sohcitor-General was nsing to say something. " Which 
 was the taller and larger man. Lord Alkmond, or Jonas 
 Hundle?" 
 
NOW AND THEN. 115 
 
 '' Ob, my Lord, Ms Lordship was tall and slight, and of 
 a beautiful figure ; and Jonas Hundle is stout and short." 
 
 " Call back the head-keeper," said the judge ; and on 
 that witness reappearing — '' Have you ever," inquired his 
 Lordship, " seen this man Hundle in the woods at Milver- 
 stoke?" 
 
 " I cannot recollect, my Lord ; I know but little of 
 him." 
 
 " You told us that, before you came up with the body 
 of Lord xllkmond, you heard sounds of something falling 
 heavily, — of a faint sigh, or groan, and of footsteps^ — 
 now, did you notice in what direction those footsteps seemed 
 to be going ?" 
 
 " No, my Lord, I did not : I heard the sounds of foot- 
 steps, as I believed, and that was all ; and those, I do 
 remember, were faint, but quick." 
 
 " Can you give those gentlemen," pointing to the jury, 
 " no notion on the subject ? — whether the footsteps were to 
 your right or your left — towards, or away from you?" 
 
 " No, my Lord ; speaking in all truth, upon my oath I 
 cannot." 
 
 " Were the sounds which led your companions to follow 
 till they caught sight of the prisoner the only sounds of 
 footsteps which had reached your ear between the time of 
 your coming up with the body and your companions 
 starting off in pursuit?" 
 
 '' They were, in truth, my Lord. I heard none other 
 whatsoever." 
 
 His lordship paused for some moments, evidently tm-ning 
 
110 NOW AND THEN. 
 
 over anxiously in his mind the last few answers of the 
 witness, who spoke in an earnest and simple manner. 
 
 " Were you not so greatly disturbed at seeing Lord 
 Alkmond's body," presently inquired the Judge, " that you 
 might have heard, but without noting, footsteps in another 
 direction?" 
 
 " My Lord, I am quite assured that I did not ; I have 
 often since thought of that matter." 
 
 The other two keepers were then recalled by the Judge, 
 and asked similar questions, to which they gave similar 
 answers ; and then Mr Solicitor declared that the case for 
 the Crown was closed. 
 
 The Judge thereupon glanced ominously at the prisoner's 
 counsel and attorney, who were instantly in anxious con- 
 sultation, amidst the breathless silence of the court ; being, 
 up even to that critical moment, in direful perplexity 
 whether or not they should hand in to the officer of the 
 Court the account which the attorney had drawn up in 
 ^vl'iting, from the prisoner's lips, of the affair, as he pro- 
 tested, without ever varying, that it had happened. Just 
 as they had determined in the negative, but with a dreadful 
 sense of responsibility, behold ! their client, as if unable to 
 resist a sudden impulse, turned to the jury, and spoke in 
 substance thus, with a voice at first somewhat smothered, 
 but presently becoming clear : — 
 
 " Gentlemen, — With my Lord's permission to speak, I 
 own that I have done wrong, and meant to do wrong, but 
 no murder ; and I do not wonder why I am now here, for 
 truly appearances be against me terribly. Yet of this 
 
NOW AND THEN. 117 
 
 murder wliicli has been done, I am every whit as innocent 
 as any of you, or his Lordship there ; nor do I know who 
 did it, nor why. But I was in the wood at the time when 
 that most cruel deed was done, and was (may God forgive 
 me !) lying in wait to punish one who had hurt and deceived 
 me grievously ; and that was the man whom I took yonder 
 stick to cudgel soundly, and teach him thereby how to lay 
 a cruel snare for one whose wife (as I told him mine was) 
 lay nearly at death's door for lack of nourishment. He 
 spoke kindly to me as we were hedging, and so afterwards 
 did the man that came as witness against me before the 
 magistrate — those two agreeing, doubtless, to have between 
 them what I might have to pay. I cannot but say I knew 
 I had gone against the law therein, but had never done 
 aught like it before, though many a time I might. And 
 truly, had I on that terrible night caught them, or either of 
 them — as I had heard they might chance to be there — God 
 knoweth how much greater mischief I might have done than 
 I had intended. But to say I killed Lord Alkmond, is quite 
 contrary to God's truth. I, hearing footsteps at some dis- 
 tance, and thinking only ofHundle, crept onward; and some 
 time after, they getting fainter, I w^ent on faster, and" — a 
 visible tremor came over him — " right across my path lay 
 a body, and I thought the arm moved a little. The fright 
 I then felt may none of you ever know — God grant you 
 may not ! I saw who it was — the poor young Lord, 
 \ wrapped in a great-coat. I tried to lift him, and just then 
 heard steps coming another way. ' Ho,' quoth I, within 
 myself, ' they will say that I did this — having come out 
 
118 NOW AND THEN. 
 
 after hares again,' as I misgave me it would be supposed ; 
 and though at first I was minded to shout for help, I feared, 
 for appearance's sake ; and, knowing that I had not done 
 the cruel deed, and hearing steps coming nearer, and then 
 voices speaking, as hath been truly told you to-day, I ran 
 quicker, and was followed, and fired at, ay, as though I 
 had been a wild beast : and here am I this day to answer 
 before you for a murder which I never committed, nor 
 dreamt of. There never passed a word, good or ill, 
 between the poor young Lord and me, in our lives ; nor, 
 as God doth know, had I malice, or cause for mahce, 
 against him. Now, gentlemen, I hope you believe all this — 
 aud may God put it into your hearts to do so, for it is 
 nothing but the truth ; and there is one, I think, that could 
 say" — he paused, his eyes filled with tears, and he seemed 
 choked. After a while he resumed — " I mean, my old 
 father ; were he here, (but tmly glad I am that he is not,) 
 he would testify that he hath never known falsehood come 
 from my lips. And this is all that I can plead for my poor 
 life, now in danger." 
 
 Here his counsel got up, and whispered hastily to him. 
 "Ay, ay, my Lord," continued the prisoner," that ^Ir 
 Oxley hath put a wrong colour on my words ; and much I 
 fear he hath done it knowingly, for he doth not love me, nor 
 mine. The words that I said, when I was before the justice 
 for the hare, were not what have here, this day, been told 
 you by Mr Oxley ; but I will own I did say then to myself, 
 as indeed I had intended, that it should go hard with them 
 that had brought me where I was, by the cruel means of 
 
NOW AND THEX. 119 
 
 trapping me with that hare ; and those other words that he 
 hath spoken of I never said at all, nor any like them, that 
 I can remember, at any time." 
 
 At this moment the prisoner suddenly fell heavily on the 
 floor, overcome with exhaustion both of mind and body, 
 (which was much weakened by ilhiess,) rendering him for 
 a short time insensible. This greatly startled and moved 
 all present. After a while, he was assisted from court, and 
 given some refreshment ; and on a message from the Judge 
 being sent, to know if he were able and ready to come back, 
 he returned, shortly afterwards, looking very ill, leaning 
 between two gaolers, and sat down on a stool, which had 
 been placed for him in the dock, by order of the Judge. 
 Then were called witnesses to speak to his good character, 
 begimiing with Mr Hylton, whose words, and hearty em- 
 phatic manner of uttering them, and his amiable look and 
 reverend appearance, aided by the high character he bore, 
 evidently produced a great impression in the prisoner's 
 favour. For no mortal man could more have been said than 
 Mr Hylton said, as clergyman and magistrate, for Ayliffe, 
 who sobbed violently while his affectionate and zealous 
 witness was speaking. 
 
 Then the Chief Justice turned towards the Jury, and all 
 they, with anxious faces, towards him. In a twinkling no 
 earthly sound was audible, but his clear, distinct voice, which 
 thus began : — 
 
 "Gentlemen of the Jury, there be many cases in 
 which we are forced to some judgment or other, on the 
 question oitrue^ or false : though lamenting, with just cause, 
 that we have but scanty means for forming such judgment. 
 
1 20 NOW AND THEN. 
 
 But in this world it ever will be so, judging, as we must, 
 with imperfect faculties, and concerning matters tlic know- 
 ledge whereof, as (observe you!) constantly happens in 
 crimes, is studiously impeded, or sought to be impeded, by 
 those who have done such crimes. Seeing, then, that our 
 judgment may be wrong, and, as m this case, may be 
 followed by consequences which cannot be remedied by 
 man — and yet that we must form a judgment one way or 
 another, or fail of doing our duty to both God and man — 
 it behoves us solemnly and carefully to do our utteimost, 
 as though our own lives were at stake ; and, devoutly 
 asking God's assistance in doing so, to leave the result with 
 His mercy, wisdom, and justice. Now, gentlemen, in this 
 case, forget, for a very little while, that life depends on the 
 judgment which you are to pronoimce ; but only, by-and- 
 by, to remember it the more distinctly and reHgiously. 
 Did this man at the bar slay the late Lord Alkmond ? is 
 yom- first question ; and the only other is — Did he do it 
 with malice aforethought ? for if he did, then has he done 
 murder, and your verdict must needs be Guilty, He says 
 before you to-day, that he did not kill the Lord Alkmond 
 at all. If you verily believe that he did not, nor was by, 
 counselling and assisting those w^ho did, why, there ends 
 the matter, and he is Not guilty. But did he do the act 
 with which he is charged? No one but Almighty God 
 above, and the prisoner himself, can, as far as we seem able 
 this day to see, absolutely hnow whether the prisoner did, 
 as though you had yourself seen him do it ; for even if he 
 had never so solemnly told you that he did, yet that telling 
 would not be such absolute knowledge^ but, as I may say, 
 
NOW AND THEN. 121 
 
 next door to it. And so is it, in reason, observe you well, 
 if facts be proved before you, which, be they few or many, 
 point only one way ; unless, indeed, all sense and reason 
 are to be disregarded and outraged. Look, then, to what 
 are proved, to your satisfaction, to be FACTS ; and also 
 forget not that which the prisoner himself has this day 
 voluntarily told you. That some one did this foul mm'der 
 is past dispute — the wound proved not being of such a 
 nature that it could possibly have been inflicted by the Lord 
 Alkmond himself. The prisoner owns himself to have been 
 with the body at a time closely after that when the deed must, 
 by all accounts, have been done, nay, while the deceased yet 
 lived — for the prisoner tells you that he thought he saw 
 the arm of Lord Alkmond move — and yet says that he 
 knows nothing whatever of the matter, though he ran 
 away — and bloody — and with a bloody stick, such as, it is 
 sworn before you, might have done the murder. If these 
 be really /acfe, are they not such as point one way only, 
 according to the expression of my Lord Coke, which w^as 
 read rightly to you by Mr SoUcitor ? There is, as you see, 
 no suggestion this day concernmg any other who might have 
 done the deed. But the prisoner himself does admit that he 
 w^ent whither he had no right to go ; and, in doing that, 
 trespassed secretly by night on the land of another, for a 
 malicious and revengeful purpose, armed with that danger- 
 ous weapon which you have seen, and is now here — which 
 purpose was, privily to lay wait for one who, he says, had 
 wronged him ; and he says himself that he might, in his 
 anger, possibly have gone further with this unlawful and 
 
122 NOW AND THEN. 
 
 felonious assault tlian lie had intended when he began it. 
 Now, gentlemen, do jou think, according to the best of 
 your judgment upon these facts, that the pnsoner may have 
 unliappily lit suddenly upon Lord Alkmond, and in the 
 darkness, and the haste of his angered temper, mistaken him 
 for the man for whom he was lying in wait, and under that 
 mistake slain him ; and, hearing voices and footsteps, fled 
 for it?" The Chief Justice paused, and the jury were 
 evidently uneasy, gazing on him very intently. 
 
 " If that were so," continued the Judge, " then is the 
 prisoner at the bar before you as guilty of the murder of 
 Lord Alkmond as if he had intended to kill Lord Alkmond 
 — that is the law, beyond all possible doubt ; and your verdict 
 must in such case be guilty, founded on facts proved, and 
 the prisoner's own admissions. That, I tell you again, is 
 the clear law of England, which you must, on your oaths, 
 abide by." 
 
 The prisoner here made violent efforts to rise and speak, 
 but was prevailed on by those beside him, and beneath him, 
 to remain silent, while this frightful possibility against him 
 was being put to the jury. The man most agitated at this 
 time, next to the prisoner, was Mr Hylton. 
 
 "Your first question, gentlemen, as I have told you," 
 proceeded the Chief Justice, "is. Did the prisoner kill Lord 
 Alkmond ? And methinks it may not be ill for you to ask 
 yourselves. If it were not the prisoner, who could it have 
 been ? Do you, in your sound discretion, verily, on your 
 oaths, believe that it was not the prisoner ? You may so 
 believe, if you credit what he has said here to-day, having. 
 
NOW AND THEN. 123 
 
 look you, due regard to what is otherwise proved against 
 him, and the probabiHtes of the case. But have you, 
 gentlemen, in your souls, and on your consciences, so much 
 uncertainty on the matter that you cannot bring yourselves 
 to say the prisoner struck the blow, or (which is the same 
 thing in law) was present counselling or assisting those who 
 did? Then has the Crown failed to bring before you 
 evidence sufficient to prove the case which they undertook 
 to prove. But beware, gentlemen, (as 'tis my duty to warn 
 you,) of being led away from proved facts, by speculation 
 and conjecture, which are mere Will-o'-the-wisps, as I may 
 say, if far-fetched and fanciful ; and also take care not to be 
 drawn from your duty by thoughts of the cruelty or 
 meanness which the prisoner charges (for aught we know, 
 truly) on him whom he owns that he went to injure. And 
 as for what has been sworn by Mr Oxley, my Lord 
 Milverstoke's local agent, and seemingly a reputable person, 
 going to show malice of the prisoner beforehand against 
 Lord Alkmond, why, consider whether you believe that this 
 gentleman really heard the very words which he swears he 
 heard the prisoner use. If such words were spoken, as are 
 told us to-day, they go some little way to show deliberate 
 malice towards the Lord Milverstoke and his family 
 generally, — but Mr Oxley may be mistaken after all, or 
 (which God forbid) may have had such horrid wickedness 
 as to colour, invent, or pervert, advisedly against the prisoner. 
 You will also, though I trust it may be needless to mention 
 such a thing, think nothing whatever of the interest with 
 which this trial may have been looked forward to outside. 
 
124 NOW AND THEN. 
 
 or be listened to in this place to-day ; but think you only 
 of your being on your solemn oaths before Almighty God, 
 and judging as fearlessly and justly as though the prisoner 
 and the late Lord Alkmond had changed places — as though 
 the prisoner had been murdered, and Lord Alkmond were 
 here to answer for it. Consider the case, then, gentlemen, 
 under the pressm^e and sanction of your oaths, according to 
 proved facts, and plain probabilities, such as Avould guide 
 you in important affairs of your own. Say — Did the Lord 
 Alkmond kill himself? Or are you, after all that you have 
 heard, totally In the dark ? Can you form no reasonable 
 opmion on the matter ? If that be so, why you must needs 
 say — Not guilty. Or did Lord Alkmond and the prisoner 
 contend together, so as to make the killing him man- 
 slaughter ? But of this there is no pretence or suggestion 
 whatever. Then did the prisoner strike the fatal blow, 
 whether knowing the person to be Lord Alkmond, or mis- 
 taking him for some one else whom he intended to kill or 
 maim ? Li either of these last two cases you must say — 
 Guilty. But if you think that the prisoner neither struck 
 the blow, nor counselled nor assisted those who did — know- 
 ing nothing, indeed, (as he hath alleged,) about the matter — 
 and if you believe that what he has said before you this day 
 is the pure truth, then you must say that he is Not Guilt y. 
 And now, gentlemen, consider the verdict Avhich you shall 
 pronounce ; and may God enlighten and guide your minds 
 in discharging the solemn duty which is this day cast upon 
 you." 
 
 On this a bailiff was thus sworn publicly, — 
 
NOW AND THEN. 125 
 
 " You do swear, that you will keep this jury without 
 meat, drink, fire, or candle, in some quiet and convenient 
 place ; that you will suffer none to speak to them, nor any 
 of them ; neither speak to them, nor any of them, yourself, 
 without leave of the Court, except to ask them whether they 
 have agreed on their verdict. — So help you God !" 
 
 Slowly then arose the twelve from their seats ; and, fol- 
 lowing the bailiff to their private room, passed on to it, 
 scarcely one of them looking at the prisoner, within a few 
 yards of whom they walked on their gloomy errand ; nor 
 did he look at them, but seemed faint and exhausted — which 
 the Judge observing, gave him leave to retire, till the jury 
 should have returned with their verdict. 
 
 Then Mr Hylton withdrew for a moment to the room, the 
 key of which he had with him, where he had left old Ayliffe, 
 and whom, on entering, he found staring towards the door 
 with mute terror. 
 
 '' I brmg no news, Adam — the case is not over yet," said 
 Mr Hylton quickly, but with a heavy sigh and a face of 
 fearful gloom. 
 
 After in vain attempting to make the old man take any 
 nourishment, Mr Hylton returned to Court, almost trem- 
 bling at the bare thought of a sudden knock at the door 
 announcmg the return of the jury, while he was absent with 
 the prisoner's father, on whom a sudden shock might have 
 fatal effects. On re-entering the Court, he found the Judge 
 sitting with a solemn countenance, having spoken to no one 
 since the jury had retired, but appearing absorbed in his own 
 thoughts. Wliat a position, indeed, was his ! If the jury 
 
126 NOW AND THEN. 
 
 should find the prisoner guilty, that judge would have to 
 assume the dismal emblem of the death-doom, and from his 
 lips must fall upon the prisoner's ears the blighting accents 
 which would extinguish life and all earthly hope ! 
 
 Mr Hylton permitted another to occupy his seat, he 
 standing near the door In a state of sickening anxiety, In 
 order that, whatever should be the verdict, he might be able 
 to enter, Avith a little preparation and calmness, the room 
 where the old man was, at the door of which j\Ir Hylton had 
 a servant stationed, to prevent any sudden noise or knocking. 
 At length the low general whispering which had been going 
 on m Court, for upwards of an hour and a half, was arrested 
 by the sound of knocking at the jury-room door ; and, while 
 all voices were hushed, few faces were there which did not 
 then change colour, few hearts which did not throb thickly 
 and fast. 
 
 " Put the prisoner to the bar," said the officer of the 
 Court; and, before the fii'st juryman had re-entered the 
 jury-box, the unhappy prisoner came slowly forward from 
 beneath the prison, to the bar, and stood there with much 
 firmness, but his face manifestly flushed. 
 
 Oh ! who could tell the appalling agony which he had to 
 endure while the twelve jurymen's names were being slowly 
 called over, they answering one by one, all looking either on 
 the floor, or away from the prisoner ! 
 
 The last name having been called over, — 
 " Adam Ayliffe," said the officer, " hold up thy hand !" 
 The prisoner did so, and a very awful silence ensued, 
 while the officer proceeded to say to the jury. 
 
NOW AND THEN. 127 
 
 *' Gentlemen of the jury, have ye agreed upon your 
 verdict ? Who shall say for you ? Ye shall speak by your 
 foreman. Do ye say that the prisoner at the bar is guilty 
 of the felony and murder with which he stands charged, or 
 not guilty ? " 
 
 '' Guilty," said the foreman in a low tone — and those 
 who were watching the prisoner observed the colour fly 
 rapidly from his face, like breath from a glass, leaving his 
 countenance of a corpse-like hue. But he stood firmly. His 
 lips appeared to move, and he spoke : no one, however, 
 hearing him but the two gaolers next to him, who said after- 
 wards that his words were, 
 
 " Now am I murdered, who never did murder any 
 one!" 
 
 *' Hearken to your verdict, as the Court records it," said 
 the clerk of assize, (as soon as the verdict had been pro- 
 nounced,) writing the fatal " Guilty" on the indictment. 
 " Ye say that the prisoner at the bar, Adam Ayliffe, is guilty 
 of the felony and murder whereof he stands indicted: that is 
 your verdict, and so ye say all." 
 
 There was a moment's thrilling silence. 
 
 " Call upon him!" said the Judge, gazing solemnly at 
 the prisoner, while the officer thus called on him to hear 
 judgment, or show why it ought not to be passed. 
 
 " Adam Ayliffe, hold up thy hand. Thou hast been 
 indicted of felony and murder ; thou wast thereupon arraign- 
 ed, and didst plead thereto Not guilty, and for thy trial 
 didst put thyself upon God and thy country, which country 
 hath found thee Guilty. What hast thou now to say why 
 
128 ^^OW AND THEN. 
 
 the Court slioiild not give thee judgment upon that convic- 
 tion, to die according to law?" 
 
 A momentary pause ensued — this being the time for the 
 prisoner's counsel to take any objection in law to the suf- 
 ficiency of the indictment, so as to arrest the judgment — 
 but the prisoner's counsel spoke not, nor moved, looking 
 down in silence. Then the Judge drew from beneath his 
 desk a black velvet cap, and placed it deliberately upon 
 his head, a sigh or sob being audible throughout the 
 Court while he did so. 
 
 Then rose the crier, and said in a loud voice, — 
 
 " O yez ! yez ! yez ! My Lords the King's Jus- 
 tices do strictly charge and command all manner of persons 
 to keep silence, while sentence of death is passing against 
 the prisoner at the bar, upon pain of imprisonment ! " 
 
 The prisoner stood staring with ashy cheek and glazed 
 eye, at the Judge, while the following words were being 
 uttered, the import of which w^as, perhaps, at that fearful 
 moment, only imperfectly apprehended by him to whom 
 they were addressed, with a calmness and deliberation 
 that were appalling. 
 
 " Adam Ayliffe, the word has just been spoken which 
 has severed you from this world, and from life. You 
 stand there convicted of a most foul and cruel murder, 
 upon a young nobleman, in the very heyday of happiness, 
 prosperity, and grandeur, and, on your own showing, 
 utterly unoffending against you. Whether there be any 
 truth whatever in that which you have this day said in 
 your defence, I know not: a jury of twelve honest men here, 
 
NOW AND THEN. 159 
 
 whose present manifest agitation shows the pain with which 
 they have discharged a sacred duty, have rejected your 
 story, and found that you did actually commit this awful 
 crime; and have said so, without venturing to speak of 
 recommending you to mercy. I am bound to tell you that 
 I agree with their verdict entirely; and all intelligent 
 persons who hear me, are now probably regarding you as a 
 justly convicted murderer. Indeed, what enormous offences 
 must go unpunished, if evidence so clear as that given this 
 day in your case were held not sufficient to bring you to 
 conviction ! An earthly tribunal has endeavoured to do its 
 duty, and is consoled, in its anxiety, by reflecting on the 
 overpowering strength of the evidence which has been 
 brought before it. Get you, unhappy, misguided man, 
 victim of your own guilty and headlong passions ! to your 
 knees, without one moment's delay, to prepare, after quit- 
 ting this earthly, for your speedy appearance before a 
 heavenly, tribmial. I will not waste the few precious, most 
 Inestimably precious, hours which yet remain to you, by 
 doing more than conjuring you to address yourself devoutly 
 to Him who, and who alone, is able to save you from the 
 bitter pains of eternal death. Through your blessed Ee- 
 deemer, who died the just for the unjust, and ever livetli 
 to make intercession for you, and in reliance on his merits, 
 beseech and implore the pardon and mercy of your offended 
 God ! Alas ! all that now remains for me to do, as your 
 earthly judge, is to declare and pronounce upon you the sen- 
 tence of the law : which sentence is, that you, Adam AyliiFe, 
 be taken back to the place whence you came ; and thence, on 
 
 K 
 
130 NOW AND THEN. 
 
 Monday now next, to the place of public execution, and 
 there be hanged by the neck until you be dead : and that 
 afterwards your body be dissected and anatomised. — And 
 the Lord have mercy on your soul." 
 
 "Amen!" solemnly cried the Chaplain, who, on the 
 jury's pronouncing theu' verdict, had silently entered the 
 Court, in his full canonicals, and stood a little behind the 
 Judge's seat, only long enough to pronounce that word, and 
 then withdrew. 
 
 The wi'etched prisoner moved not, nor spoke, when the 
 Judge had concluded ; and, apparently mechanically, turned 
 round and accompanied the two gaolers who stood beside 
 him, and who, putting his arms within theirs, gently led 
 him away from amidst the sea of solemn faces around him, 
 to the cell, which, within a few short hours, he would have 
 to quit, only to appear before a far greater assemblage, 
 on a still more a^vful occasion, with what decorum and 
 firmness he might. 
 
NOW AND THEN. 131 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 As soon as Mr Hylton had heard the death-dooming 
 word uttered by the foreman of the jmy, he instantly with- 
 drew ; and breathing a hurried inward prayer on behalf of 
 the prisoner, and his afflicted father, gently opened the 
 door of the room where he was awaiting the dreadful issue ; 
 and, with as much composure as he could command, sat 
 down beside the old man, who moved not as Mr Hylton 
 entered, but remained with his face buried in his hands, 
 which were supported by his knees. For some moments 
 Mr Hylton spoke not, scarce laiowmg how to break the 
 blighting intelligence. 
 
 '' Adam, my friend, it is over !" said he, gently taking 
 one of the old man's hands, and grasping it within his 
 own. Ayliffe looked slowly and fearfully in Mr Hylton's 
 face, and read his son's doom written in every troubled 
 feature. He tried, but in vain, to speak : his lips moved 
 without uttering any sound, and he sunk from his chair on 
 his knees, his hands clasped before him, and his haggard 
 face inclined towards the ground. 
 
 "God, in whom you have trusted, my dear troubled 
 friend, support you in this horn- of darkness ! " said Mr 
 Hylton. 
 
132 NOW AND THEN. 
 
 " Pray ! — help — help mc to pray ! " gasped the old 
 man famtly; on which Mr Hylton knelt beside him 
 saying— 
 
 " God be merciful unto thee, and bless thee, and lift up 
 the light of his countenance upon thee ! Be Thou a very 
 present help in time of trouble, unto this thy servant, who 
 trusteth In thee ! " 
 
 While they were thus engaged, the Lord Chief Justice 
 suddenly stood for a few seconds before them, having, in 
 haste, mistaken the room for his own, which adjoined that 
 assigned to old Ayliffe. After a moment's pause, he silently 
 retired, having recognised the benevolent features of Mr 
 Hylton, with whose face he had been much struck, as he 
 spoke on behalf of the prisoner. The Chief Justice had 
 been aware of the prisoner's father having been in atten- 
 dance all day in some adjoining apartment, and saw at a 
 glance how the matter w^as. On entering his own room, the 
 Judge was so much affected with what he had thus acci- 
 dentally witnessed, that he sate in silence, and without 
 unrobing, for a considerable time. 
 
 When Mr Hylton had uttered a few more sentences of 
 Scripture, with great fervency, the old man's tears began to 
 fall, and he heaved a long, deep-drawn sigh. 
 
 At length, " I scarce know where I am," said he faintly ; 
 " yet — I have had help, but for which surely I must have 
 died ! I thank thee, sir, for all thy goodness to a poor 
 heart-blighted old man !" he whispered, slowly rising from 
 his knees, with Mr Hylton's assistance, and sitting down, 
 trembling from head to foot ; " I — dare — not — ask " — he 
 
NOW AND THEN. 133 
 
 stammered ; " thy terrible face tells me — all is over witli 
 him!" 
 
 ^' I cannot say that it is not so ! " said Mr Hylton. 
 
 " Oh ! Adam, Adam, my son ! would thou hadst never 
 been born !" exclaimed the old man, lamentably. " Would 
 I were dust, as is thy poor mother ! Oh, my Sarah ! my 
 Sarah ! " He placed his hands before his eyes, and the tears 
 trickled down beneath them. 
 
 "He hath not to Hve beyond Monday morning ? " said 
 he, after a long pause, with a sudden affrighted look at Mr 
 Hylton, who shook his head in silence. 
 
 The old man groaned, and pressed his hand over his 
 heart, as though it were bursting. 
 
 " Wliat shall I — what can I say to comfort you, Adam ? " 
 said Mr Hylton — " except, that there is one never-failing 
 source of succour, as you know well, both for you, and for 
 your son, and for all mankind ! " 
 
 " Oh, my son ! my son ! — let me go to my poor son 
 while yet he lives!" said Ayliffe mournfully, and, takmg 
 his stick and hat, essayed tremulously to move towards the 
 door. 
 
 " Stay here, Ayliffe, while I go and see whether, by the 
 niles of this place, you may be admitted to see him — that 
 is, so soon after what has happened. Consider, too, what 
 he has had to go through this day, and that his health has 
 besides been somewhat shattered of late — as well, poor 
 soul ! it might be." 
 
 Having received a promise from Ayliffe to remain in the 
 room till his return, Mr Hylton withdrew, and found no 
 
134 NOW AND THEN. 
 
 difficulty in obtaining written leave from the under sheriff 
 for immediate access to the wretched convict, who, being 
 thenceforth allowed only bread and water, had been removed 
 from the bar of the Court to the condemned cell ; tlu'ough 
 the open door of which Mr Ilylton saw, as he approached, 
 three turnkeys fastening upon him heavy irons, the chaplain 
 standing in his robes beside him, and holding in his hand a 
 cup of water, which he had in vain brought several times 
 to the closed lips of the condemned man. 
 
 This dreadful scene greatly agitated Mr Hylton; who 
 stood, for a moment, at a little distance, to regain some 
 measure of self-possession. 
 
 " Come, my man, take the cup of water the parson offers 
 thee!" said the head turnkey, kindly, clapping his hand 
 roughly on the prisoner's shoulder. 
 
 Ayliffe started, looked with glazed eye at the turnkey, 
 breathing heavily through his nostrils, his lips remaining 
 spasmodically closed. Mr Hylton hereupon entered, very 
 pale. 
 
 " Adam, my poor friend, God be with you! " said he, with 
 a faltering voice, takmg the prisoner's hand. 
 
 Ayliffe suddenly rose from his seat, but sunk down, his 
 irons being connected to a strong staple m the floor. " I 
 am stifled ! " he gasped, his^breast heaving fearfully. '' This 
 is a grave!" he added, looking, his features distorted with 
 horror, round the narrow cell in which he foimd hunself. 
 " Open the door — I cannot breathe ! " 
 
 " Adam, if you have not forgotten one who ever loved 
 you," said Mr Hylton, taking the cup of water from the 
 
NOW AND THEN. 135 
 
 Chaplain, and bringing it to Ayliife's lips, " drink tins water 
 from my hand ! " 
 
 But the prisoner turned aside, convulsively gasping, '' I 
 choke! I choke!" 
 
 At length, however, on the persevermg entreaty of Mr 
 Hylton, he greedily swallowed some of the water ; and then, 
 .as if for the first time noticing the robed figure of the 
 Chaplain, stammered, with a ghastly stare, " Who— who 
 are you?" 
 
 On the suggestion of Mr Hylton, the Chaplain withdrew, 
 as also did the turnkeys, closing the door behind them; and 
 then Mr Hylton was alone with the condemned. For some 
 time his solemn admonitions were lost upon Ayliffe ; whose 
 first connected words were — 
 
 " The curse of God be on them that have condemned the 
 innocent for the guilty — ay, a curse!'" he added, almost 
 gnashing his teeth. 
 
 "Adam!" said Mr Hylton, "you are too near the 
 immediate presence of the judgment-seat of the Eternal, to 
 be indulging in these unholy thoughts ! " 
 
 The condemned man glared at him wildly, evidently 
 making a mighty effort to keep silent. 
 
 " Your father is waiting to see you — heart-broken, yet 
 bowing in reverent submission before God ; but, so long as 
 you cherish such resentful feelings, I cannot bring him to 
 this cell." 
 
 Mr Hylton saw a change coming over his miserable 
 companion, who seemed terribly agitated, and about to 
 weep. 
 
136 NOW AND THEN. 
 
 " Does not your heart yeam after the sight of that saintly 
 father of yours ? " continued Mr Hylton, gently. 
 
 The son raised his hand to his eyes, sighed heavily, and 
 shook his head bitterly. 
 
 " God is softening your heart, Adam," said Mr Hylton, his 
 voice faltering with his own strong emotions ; " yield to His 
 holy influences ! From Him hath come all this that has 
 happened to you ! Oh ! let not Satan now steel your heart, 
 and close your ears, that he may have you presently his for 
 ever ! Shall not the Judge of all the earth do right ? Kneel 
 down with me, my fellow-sinner, and let us humble our- 
 selves before God, and beseech his forgiveness and support! " 
 
 The prisoner's tears flowed fast; and, sobbing convul- 
 sively, he permitted himself to be inclined gently on his 
 knees. Mr Hylton uttered a short, solemn, and fervent 
 prayer, in which AylifFe audibly joined; and presently 
 rising, assisted by Mr Hylton, began to exhibit an approach 
 towards composure, Mr Hylton speaking to him gently and 
 soothingly. 
 
 ^' You have much work to do, Adam, and little time to do 
 it m ! Will you listen to me for a moment ? " 
 
 The convict sadly bowed his head, and grasped the hand 
 of Mr Hylton in silence. 
 
 " Do you from your heart forgive all those who you 
 believe may have injm-ed you, as you would be yourself 
 forgiven by God?" 
 
 Ayliffe paused. " No — not yet ! I cannot truly say I 
 do !— but, with God's help, I will try." 
 
 '' He is at this moment helping you, in saying these last 
 
NOW AND THEN. 137 
 
 pious words of yours ! Within a few hours, Adam, how 
 plainly may you see the justice, ay, and even the mercy 
 and wisdom of all that now appears so greatly to the con- 
 trary ! Prepare! — prepare, Adam, to meet your God! 
 Confess your sins, if you would have them forgiven ! Oh, how 
 many have they been ! How many things have you done 
 dm*ing your life, that will not now bear examination ! yet 
 all MUST be examined, and judged hereafter ! How much 
 have you omitted to do, that ought to have been done ! — 
 and all these things are noted against you, by an Eye that 
 sleepeth not ! And in this very matter — why, Adam ! rouse 
 yourself — stir up your soul within you ! — reflect ! —consider ! 
 — what have you not confessed this day in open Court, before 
 yoiu- earthly judge — before all mankind ? What, but the 
 deadly malignity and revenge that you had long cherished 
 in your heart against your enemy ! — whom the Gospel had 
 told you to forgive ! — but whom you — oh, Adam ! — went, 
 under a hellish impulse, secretly to be revenged on ! If God 
 should enter into judgment against you, what have you to 
 say? Look at the very root of this matter : concerning the 
 hare which (small cause of so much evil !) led to all this. 
 Did you not then stifle your conscience, which condemned 
 you, when first you were tempted to do wrong ? Oh ! 
 where was then your Bible? Where were your father's 
 warnings ? where were my humble teachings ? Had you but 
 resisted at the first — at the very first — would you now have 
 been here, Adam ? And was not Providence opening for 
 you, through my imworthy exertions, a way for you out of 
 your troubles ? Think, Adam, of the steps by which you 
 
138 NOW AND THEN. 
 
 have gone wrong, and done deliberate wickedness, and 
 hrought yourself directly hither ! I say not this, Adam, 
 believe me, to chide and trouble you in so awful a moment 
 as this ; but am only striving to set you right with your 
 conscience, that when I am gone, and before we meet again 
 on earth, and while your precious moments ebb fast away," 
 — ^liere Mr Hylton Avas greatly moved, and paused for some 
 moments, — '' you may think of your sins, and humble 
 yourself under the mighty hand of God, and give ear to no 
 temptings of the fiend who would seduce and delude you ! " 
 
 AylifFe clasped his hands together, and gazing upwards, 
 said tremulously, " I do confess my many and grievous sins, 
 O God ! and more now they seem than they ever seemed 
 before!" 
 
 "The world in which you still, for a little, live," con- 
 tinued Mr Hylton, " is fading fast from before your 
 eyes, Adam ! It passeth away ! It pensheth ! From you, 
 within a few hours, does it disappear, and is only some- 
 what more slowly vanishing from me, and from all living ! 
 Hither were we sent for trial only, and but for a brief space ! 
 — Then return we to Him who sent us, who is Eternal, 
 Omnipotent, Omniscient, Just, and Merciful ; and who will 
 assuredly, as he hath distinctly told us, render to every man 
 according to his deeds! " 
 
 Mr Hylton uttered all this with thiillmg solemnity ; and, 
 as he ceased, the condemned man sunk again on his knees, 
 in an attitude of profound devotion. Thus he remained for 
 some minutes, neither he nor Mr Hylton speaking. At length 
 Ayliffc rose slowly, and resumed his seat. 
 
NOW AND THEN. 139 
 
 "Adam," said Mr Hylton, "let me ask you a great 
 question — one that I will not ask a second time, be your 
 answer what it may. Tell me, who am a minister of that 
 God before whom you are so soon to appear, and now that 
 all earthly hope is over — are you innocent or guilty of the 
 crime for which you are to die ? " 
 
 The condemned man calmly elevated his hands and his 
 eyes towards heaven, and with solemn firmness replied, " God 
 knoweth that I am as innocent as the child that hath not 
 been born ; and may He reconcile me to die for that which 
 I never did, nor know who did, nor why it was done. May 
 I, before I depart, cease to think it hard that the innocent 
 should die for the guilty ! " 
 
 Mr Hylton gazed at him in troubled silence. 
 
 " Do you believe, sir, that 1 am innocent of this murder?" 
 Ayliffe suddenly inquired, turning to Mr Hylton a face that 
 wore an awful expression — havmg no anger or sternness in 
 it, but being, in a manner, radiant with truth from heaven, 
 which seemed to lighten into the mind of Mr Hylton ; who 
 replied — 
 
 " As I live, Adam Ayliffe, I do ! " 
 
 " I am ! I am ! and, now that you believe me, I feel a 
 great change here," he continued, raising his manacled hands 
 to his breast, — " I feel free and light ; and that I may die 
 in full piety, truth, and hope, and be forgiven all my many 
 sins, for His sake, who died the just for the unjust ! " 
 
 " See, Adam, what peace may come suddenly from Hea- 
 ven, into so dismal a cell as this ! " 
 
 "It may! — it hath! Yet" — he paused — "God grant 
 
140 NOW AND THEN. 
 
 that, when I am left alone, all mj evil thoughts and impiety 
 do not retmTi ! " 
 
 ^' No, they will not, if you be continual in your supplica- 
 tions, and strenuous in faith ! But remember, Adam, remem- 
 ber ! — remember ! time is short ! Thrice only will the smi 
 rise upon you ! " 
 
 ^' I know it, sir ! I know it ! and very terrible is it to feel 
 and to know it! But" — he became suddenly agitated — 
 ^' there is yet a question I would ask — yet I dare not." 
 
 " I know, Adam, what you mean," said Mr Hylton very 
 piteously. "Alas! I fear me — but, — what think you, 
 Adam ? Do you wish her to stay m so sad a world after 
 you?" 
 
 " The will of God be done ! Is she — is my poor Sarah 
 — is she gone ? " He shook m every limb. 
 
 " No, Adam, she is not ; but I must own, it may be that 
 you will both meet sooner than you now think for. She 
 lies trembling on the very verge of the grave. A breath 
 might — " 
 
 " Oh, poor soul ! — oh, dear Sarah ! — oh, my own wife ! " 
 cried Ayliffe, dismally. " Mother of my child ! must we 
 never meet again on earth ? And my child ! — oh that thy 
 mother had never borne thee to me ! " 
 
 Mr Hylton bowed his head in silence, at this bitter out- 
 break, and his eyes overflowed with tears. 
 
 " Let her not know of my death, if she live afterwards, 
 till she may, with God's blessing, bear it ! And the old man 
 — my poor father! — where is he?" suddenly inquii-ed 
 Ayliffe. 
 
NOW AND THEN, 
 
 141 
 
 " He is in the prison, and hath been there all the day long, 
 and now, doubtless, is wondering why I return not to per- 
 form my promise, and bring him to see you. Can you bear 
 to meet him, Adam, if I get leave to bring him ? " The 
 prisoner groaned; and, after a long pause, said, sorrowfully — 
 " It cannot hurt me — but may it not kill him ? " 
 " I hope and do trust not, Adam. He, like his son, has 
 sought for succour from above 1 He knows, poor soul ! 
 the worst of what has happened, and I doubt not his coming 
 may at first grieve, but directly afterwards it will greatly 
 comfort you ! " 
 
 With this, ]\Ir Hylton quitted the cell, and, having 
 obtained the requisite permission, returned, supporting 
 on his arm the grief-worn father of the convict, even the 
 gruff turnkey pitying him, as he passed silently along. He 
 almost dropped to the earth at sight of the two turnkeys, 
 standing with blunderbusses at the door of the cell in which 
 lay his miserable son. They were about to search the old 
 man before he entered ; but the governor, having been 
 appealed to, gave peraiission for him to be admitted into 
 the cell after only a nominal search, provided Mr Hylton as 
 a magistrate would stay in the cell during the whole of the 
 interview — an undertakhig which Mr Hylton gave with 
 great reluctance, hopmg to have been spared so sad a scene ; 
 for sad indeed, and heart-rending, it proved to be. 
 
 It lasted not long, however ; for the limits of indulgence 
 allowed by the prison rules to the condemned had already 
 been nearly exceeded when Mr Hylton re-entered with the 
 old man. 
 
142 NOW AND THEN. 
 
 Oil ! liow great was the consolation afforded to father and 
 son, by Mr Hylton's declaring his conviction that that son 
 was really innocent of the barbarous and horrible crime for 
 which he was nevertheless to die ! Never had the father 
 doubted of his son's innocence, from the moment of liis 
 solemn assertion of it, when first his father had seen him in 
 the gaol. On Mr Hylton's mind this solemn asseveration 
 of the prisoner had produced a profound impression — one 
 painful and intolerable ; for he himself, of course, as im- 
 plicity and absolutely believed that assertion as he had 
 professed to the prisoner that he did. Fixed in such a 
 belief, how awful appeared to him the insufficiency of all 
 earthly modes of investigation, and administering justice, 
 deliberate, impartial, unimpeachable even as had been that 
 of the memorable day which was then closmg. " Oh," 
 thought Mr Hylton, '^ how, in this dim scene of action, we 
 grope in the dark after truth, and may miss it, and do miss 
 it, after all our best directed efforts. And how fearful often, 
 as in this case, the consequence of error ! " 
 
 Mr Hylton had himself heard the whole of Ayliffe's 
 trial ; and felt that, had he been either judge or juryman, 
 he could not possibly have come to any other conclusion, 
 according to the evidence, than that the prisoner's guilt 
 had been fully established that day in Court, and corro- 
 borated too, most powerfully, by his own voluntary acknow- 
 ledgment ! " But what," thought Mr Hylton, as he slowdy 
 conducted his aged heart-broken companion, from the 
 gaol, to a small house where he had kindly engaged a 
 room for him for a day or two, that he might be near his 
 
NOW AND THEN. 1 43 
 
 son diu'Ing the few sad hours left hmi of life, — " what is to 
 be done ? What time is there for doing that which may 
 be done ? Here is Friday night — and on Monday he 
 dies!" 
 
 Sitting down with old Ayliffe, as soon as they were 
 alone, Mr Hylton, endeavouring to speak in such a guarded 
 and desponding manner as should kindle no hopes which 
 might be disappointed, engaged him in imrestrained con- 
 versation concerning what had been stated in Court by Mr 
 Oxley, touching the alleged origin of both the Ayliifes' 
 ill-will to the Earl and his family. With lively indignation 
 did Mr Hylton hear of the insulting and oppressive 
 conduct of Mr Oxley ; and on being told, above all, of his 
 outrageous allusion to the workhouse, as the destined 
 resort of old Ayliffe, and of the scornful fury with which 
 the condemned man had cast the offensive speaker out of 
 the cottage, Mr Hylton was indeed confounded, on remem- 
 bering Mr Oxley's statement to the Judge, that there 
 never had been any ill-feeling or cause of dispute between 
 him (Oxley) and the Ayliffes ! This Mr Hylton men- 
 tioned to Ayliffe, who thereupon told him, that on Mr 
 Oxley's coming to his legs again, after being jerked down 
 by young Ayliffe, as has been described, old Ayliffe heard 
 him say, with a venomous look towards young Ayliffe — 
 '' Ay, ay. Master Ayliffe ! I owe thee a turn for this ! " 
 
 As time was precious, and the evening was far advanced, 
 Mr Hylton hurriedly took leave of his companion, promising, 
 rather vaguely, to see him again as soon as possible. On 
 his way to the inn where his horse was put up, a travelling- 
 
144 NOW AND THEN. 
 
 carnage and foiu' rolled rapidly by him ; and, on inquiry, 
 he found that it was that of the Lord Chief Justice, who, 
 having finished the Assize, was thus already on his way to 
 London. Mr Hylton rode round by Sir Henry Harring- 
 ton's, on whom he called, and found him ill in bed ; but, 
 stating the urgency of his errand, Mr Hylton was admitted 
 instantly to his room, and took down verbatim Sir Henry's 
 account, (signed by himself,) of the expression which the 
 condemned man had used on the occasion of his conviction 
 for having had the hare in his possession ; and that expres- 
 sion was precisely the one which Mr Hylton had written 
 down in Court, and handed to the prisoner's counsel ; but 
 which had been, nevertheless, peremptorily denied by Mr 
 Oxley. 
 
 " Here, then," thought Mr Hylton, as he urged on his 
 horse rapidly homeward, " are two things — malice estab- 
 lished in Oxley against the prisoner ; and a false, or at least 
 an erroneous, account given by the former of the words 
 which had been used by the latter, as showing settled malice 
 against Lord Milverstoke and his family. But, alas!" 
 thought Mr Hylton, as he revolved the matter in his mind, 
 '' to what do these two things really amount ? Does the 
 fatally conclusive proof on which AylifFe has been con- 
 demned, depend on Mr Oxley? Suppose even all that 
 he has said at the trial were stnick out from the evidence, 
 would not the glaring facts proved by the crown, and admitted 
 by the prisoner, remain?" — and Mr Hylton reflected on the 
 fearful summing-up of the Judge, knowing not how to 
 impugn any part of it. If this were indeed so, then must 
 
KOW AND THEN. 
 
 145 
 
 poor AylifFe be left to liis fate, and tlie innocent (as Mr 
 Hylton believed him) die the shameful and horrible death 
 of the murderer. 
 
 Thoughts like these greatly depressed Mr Hylton — ex- 
 hausted, moreover, as he was with the agitation and 
 excitement of that dismal day, during which he had scarcely 
 tasted any refreshment. 
 
146 NOW AND THEN. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 When within a mile of Milverstoke, he slackened his pace 
 to give his horse a little breathing-time ; and had hardly 
 done so before he heard the sound of some one approaching 
 on horseback, a little to his right, evidently from the quarter 
 where the barracks lay. As he passed the entrance of the 
 by-road which led to them, he saw, on glancing aside, an 
 orderly come trotting up at a brisk pace, and who was 
 going to pass him, (it being about nine o'clock, and dark.) 
 Suddenly, however, the soldier stopped his horse, saluted 
 Mr Hylton, and said — " I ask your pardon, sir ; are not 
 you Parson Hylton, sir?" 
 
 " I am," said ]\Ir Hylton, sufficiently surprised, reining 
 up. 
 
 " Well, sir, I am the third man that has been ordered 
 from the barracks within this two hours to your parsonage, 
 sir — with a letter to you, sir, from Captain Lutteridge. I 
 have it now, sir. Here it is," giving it to Mr Hylton ; 
 "but you cannot read it in the dark." 
 
 " I suppose, my man, you don't know what it is about?" 
 inquired Mr Plylton amazedly. 
 
 "No, sii' ; I know nothing of the matter ; my orders were 
 
NOW AND THEN. 147 
 
 only to take this letter, and bring an immediate answer, 
 sir, if you were at home ; and my two comrades that went 
 before carried each this letter, and brought it back, as you 
 were not at the parsonage, sir." 
 
 The barracks were at little more than a quarter of a mile's 
 distance, so — " Go back, if you please," said Mr Hylton, 
 " as quickly as you choose, and say that I follow you." 
 
 "Yes, sir," replied the man; and galloped back as fast 
 as Mr Hylton could have desired: he following pretty 
 briskly, wondering much what urgent matter might be astir. 
 Arrived at the barracks, he was forthwith shown into a 
 private room, where two officers (one of them considerably 
 older than the other, of a stern, matter-of-fact, soldierly 
 appearance) joined him before he had had time to do more 
 than open the letter which had been given him by the 
 orderly. After a hasty but handsome apology for troubling 
 him, and especially for the liberty which had been taken, 
 without orders, by the orderly, in stopping him on his return 
 home — 
 
 " It is known to us," said Captain Lutterldge, the elder of 
 the two officers, " that you have great concern In the case 
 which has been this day tried at the Assizes, concerning the 
 murder of the late Lord Alkmond : and my friend here, 
 Lieutenant Wylsden, who was present at the trial, has come 
 back, telling us that the Judge said he thought it strange 
 that Lord Alkmond should have gone out, as he truly did, 
 into the woods on that night ; and asked whether any one 
 knew the cause." 
 
 "Sir," replied Mr Hylton, with sudden interest, "the 
 
148 NOW AND THEN. 
 
 Judge did say so, and In so saying expressed that which 
 I, and others, have often felt and talked about." 
 
 "Well, sir, I know little about it; but, for aught I 
 know, tliat little may have some bearing on the case of the 
 man this day condemned for the murder. This, then, is all I 
 have to say : I, do you see, sir, was at my Lord Milverstoke's 
 on the night of the murder, dining there, and afterwards 
 was at the ball, till it was suddenly broke up by the news 
 of my Lord Alkmond's murder. Kow, when we were all 
 at dinner, naught happened ; but some time afterwards, 
 when my Lord Milverstoke and others had gone to the ball- 
 room. Lord Alkmond and some few of us, principally 
 officers, remained behind ; and a certain one present chanced 
 to speak of a subject which several immediately talked upon 
 — but not Lord Alkmond, who seemed to become suddenly 
 sad, and even troubled. I sat next to him, and I saw that 
 he grew very much disturbed indeed as the talk went on : 
 but why, I could neither know nor guess. He spoke to me 
 of some matter altogether different, but I saw that he was 
 listening, as though in spite of himself, to what the others 
 were saying — especially when one of them, a nobleman, not 
 now, I believe, in England, told us of a thing which had 
 happened to him (or that he had heard of, I forget which.) 
 Then Lord Alkmond did, as I thought, grow suddenly far 
 more troubled ; and I, for politeness' sake, moved to go : 
 so did the others, except two, who talked very earnestly 
 together, still on the same subject. My Lord Alkmond 
 bade us, with forced gaiety, go to the dancing, saying that 
 he would before long rejoin us. I sportingly said 'No, 
 
NOW AND THEN. 149 
 
 come with us, my Lord.' ^ By-and-by,' said his Lordship, 
 'I have a small matter to do;' and so we parted, never 
 again (as it proved) to meet alive. Now this is all I know, 
 reverend sir, and it may signify little, and yet may mean 
 much. I, being a soldier, know not what bearing all this 
 may have on law matters : but as the Judge, it seems, asked 
 a question which, had I been there, I could have so far 
 answered ; and as the Judge said, so Lieutenant Wylsden 
 tells me, that it was strange that on such an occasion my 
 Lord Alkmond should go into the wood — why, I too say it 
 was a little strange. The man that has been tried to-day is 
 convicted, and will, I suppose most justly, die on Monday ; 
 therefore, sir, I have sent to tell you what you have now 
 heard, but what you can make of it I know not." 
 
 These last pregnant words startled Mr Hylton out of a 
 reverie into which he had fallen, while listening in silent 
 amazement to Captain Lutterldge. "May I trouble you, so 
 far, reverend sir," said the Captain, "as to ask whether 
 you have seen the prisoner since his sentence ?" 
 
 "I have," replied Mr Hylton, as if his mind were bent 
 on something else. 
 
 " Does he stand firm ? The Lieutenant here tells me he 
 is a marvellous tall, well-built, and strong man, and would 
 have made a fine trooper. Methlnks I must have seen him 
 about, some time or other, in these parts." 
 
 "What was that matter, sir, on which you gentlemen wei'e 
 speaking, at which the Lord Alkmond grew so troubled?" 
 inquired Mr Hylton suddenly and anxiously. 
 
 " Why, " quoth Captain Lutterldge, evidently taken quite 
 
150 NOW AND THEN. 
 
 aback by the question, ^' look you. sir — is it necessary or 
 proper that I should say what passed, in confidential talk, 
 at the table of my Lord Milverstoke ? For I was the guest 
 of his Lordship; and we cannot, I reckon, talk elsewhere 
 about any thing there spoken of. How knew I what mis- 
 chief I might do, or how grievously I might thereby hurt 
 my hospitable host ?" 
 
 ^' But I implore you, sir, consider that within little 
 more than forty-eight hours an innocent man may be 
 swinging on a gibbet ; and what you have now told me 
 may—" 
 
 Captain Lutteridge appeared quite nonplussed at this turn 
 of the matter, it never having occurred to the frank and 
 high-minded soldier that such a question was likely to be 
 asked. Now it seemed to him to be directly contrary to 
 good manners, and the rules of hospitality, that he should 
 disclose any thing which had taken place on an occasion of 
 unrestrained private intercourse at his host's table : and 
 that, too, relating to the son of that host, and under most 
 afflicting and awful circumstances. 
 
 ''I entreat — I earnestly implore of you to tell me, sir," 
 said Mr Hylton, eagerly. 
 
 '' Sir, you see, I never thought of this, nor did any of us, 
 as we talked the matter over in our room there ; so I am at 
 a loss suddenly to answer you. Let me tell you, sir, that 
 it seems certain to me that the thing can have no real bear- 
 ing on the case of this murder. What could my Lord 
 Alkmond, sir, have had to do with the man who has been 
 this day tried for murdering him ? Did he dine with us, 
 
NOW AND THEN. " 151 
 
 sir, and hear what we said ? And if he did, still it plainly 
 could have signified nothing in such a case." 
 
 " Oh, forgive me. Captain — forgive me !" answered Mr 
 Hylton, earnestly. '' It may have every bearing — the 
 most vital bearing, for aught you and I, at present, can 
 know. You said, but a moment ago, most truly, gallant 
 sir, that you, being an officer, knew not the bearing which 
 the thmg might have on law matters. 
 
 " Ay, I did then say so, but I never thought of the 
 question which you would presently ask, sir" — Captain 
 Lutteridge said this somewhat stiffly, looking rather angry. 
 <' And even though it had a bearing, sir, do you wish me, 
 a gentleman and officer, to tell out of my host's doors what 
 took place within, whether it be a matter great or little ? 
 Sir, you should not, being yourself a gentleman, stand 
 upon your question." 
 
 '' But I must. Captain ; life is at stake : this poor man, I 
 declare in the presence of Heaven, I beheve to be quite 
 innocent." 
 
 '' Phew !" exclaimed the Captain, with an air of complete 
 astonishment, and a touch of disdain too — '' and that, 
 reverend sir, after my Lord Chief-Justice and a jury have 
 found him guilty ? Excuse me, sir, but who shall know 
 better than they? Besides, the Lieutenant here tells us 
 that your very innocent man confessed the deed in open 
 Court. Did he not?" continued the Captain, sarcastically, 
 tm^ning to his brother officer. 
 
 " Yes ; I say so. Captain — he did." 
 
 Mr Hylton eagerly interposed — " No ! no ! no !" 
 
 ^' I say he did, sir !" quoth the Lieutenant sternly ; "or 
 
152 NOW AND THEN. 
 
 at least he did as good, or I had no cars or understanding 
 — and so said also the Judge ; I marked it well" — 
 
 " I assure you, Lieutenant " — commenced Mr Ilylton, 
 with a gesture of strenuous dissent. 
 
 " Why, look you, reverend sir," interrupted the Lieu- 
 tenant, " did not the prisoner say plainly and loudly, that 
 true it was he got the blood on his coat from my Lord 
 Alkmond's body, and ran away from it, with a bloody 
 bludgeon, for his life?" 
 
 " Yes ; but he said also that he did not do the deed, and 
 only feared he might be thought to have done it." 
 
 " And there, sir, I reckon, he lied, " quoth the Lieutenant 
 warmly. 
 
 " Interfere between us. Captain, for the love of God, and 
 for pity to man !" said Mr Hylton, appealing to Captain 
 Lutteridge, who was a much older man than the Lieutenant, 
 and during the latter's brief contention with Mr Hylton 
 had stood looking at the fire, in a very thoughtful manner. 
 On being appealed to — 
 
 '' Be quiet, Mr Wylsden," said he quickly, and somewhat 
 authoritatively, to the fiery subaltern ; then turning to ^Ir 
 Hylton, he continued, — " Sir, I have been thinking of 
 this, and it seems to me at present a somewhat graver matter 
 than it appeared to me just now ; for, as you say, sir, this 
 man will hang in forty-eight hours ; and if he ought not to 
 hang, that would (as I think) be unjust, though all the 
 judges in the world said otherwise. I will speak to you in 
 a few minutes, sir, wishing on this point to consult those 
 who are within there." 
 
 With this the two officers hastily withdrew, leaving IMr 
 
NOW AND THEN. 1''53 
 
 Hylton in a state of no little excitement, impatience, and 
 amazement. What extraordinary aspect was tliis miserable 
 case about now to assume ? What could this conversation 
 have been about, that such a mystery was made of it? 
 Troubled as he was, and serious as was the case, he saw 
 clearly and respected the motives which influenced the 
 simple-minded and honourable soldier, in demurring to give 
 him the answer which he had besought. Presently he 
 heard loud and earnest talking in the mess-room adjoining. 
 " I say, nay !"— " 'Tis monstrous !"— " 'Tis unofficer- 
 lilj-el" — "Pity 'tis you named it. Captain!" were expressions 
 which he could not avoid hearing. Anon all the voices 
 dropped to a lower key, and he heard nothing for some 
 minutes but hurried whispering ; and at length his impa- 
 tience, which was becoming quite intolerable, was relieved 
 by Captain Lutteridge, who came in alone, shutting the 
 door after him, and his flushed face showed that he had 
 borne an active part in a somewhat keen discussion. 
 
 "■ Mr Hylton," said he courteously, ^' I have taken advice 
 of several of my brother officers, and we all do think this a 
 case of much difficulty, and some danger, and that may 
 perhaps, for all I meant well, bring some discredit on me 
 as being guilty of tattling or eaves-dropping, and that too 
 on so sad and bloody a business as this in hand. AYhat I 
 have resolved to do is this, sir : I will first see my Lord 
 Milverstoke and take his orders — that is, his pleasure on 
 the matter — and if he object not" — 
 
 " Then is poor Adam Ayliffe sacrificed !" said Mr 
 Hylton despairingly. 
 
154 NOW AND TIIEX. 
 
 " How SO, sir ?" quickly asked the astonished officer. 
 " Of course, sir, though my Lord Milverstoke should be 
 greatly hurt " — 
 
 " No, no — I mean, sir, there is NO time for all this ! It 
 is now near ten o'clock, and if any thing be done to get a 
 respite even, I must go off to London by the coach passing 
 through Milverstoke at midnight ; and consider, dear 
 Captain, how long it will be before I reach London — how 
 much I have to do there, and must yet be back before 
 Monday morning ! " 
 
 " Sir, all that is doubtless so," said Captain Lutteridge, 
 looking the picture of blank perplexity : he was rapid and 
 decisive enough in military matters, but here he seemed for 
 a while at fault. " Ho ! without there !" he suddenly 
 exclaimed ; " saddle my horse and another instantly, and 
 let Hickson, or some other of the men, be ready to accom- 
 pany me without one moment's delay." 
 
 " Why this ? why this. Captain ?" inquired Mr Hylton. 
 
 '' Sir, I am going to my Lord Milverstoke's, and if he 
 grant me leave to tell you what you wish to know, I will 
 follow you on to London, if I gallop all the way on 
 horseback." 
 
 " Once more, sir, let me tell you how I honour you for 
 your highmindedness ; but will you not act in this awful 
 dilemma on your own judgment, and let me quit for London 
 immediately with a somewhat lighter heart?" 
 
 " No, sir, not if I die for it, till I have seen my Lord 
 Milverstoke." 
 
 Mr Hylton sighed heavily. " Do you know his Lordship ?" 
 
NOW AND THEN. 155 
 
 " Not Ultimately ; only as an hospitable nobleman, who 
 entertained us all at a most princely banquet." 
 
 " But I know his temper and character well, Captain — 
 haughty, stern, inflexible ; and in this matter, above all 
 others" — 
 
 ^' I care not," said Captain Lutteridge proudly, " for his 
 haughtiness, if he were fifty Lords Milverstoke ! I will see 
 him and take his wishes on the subject, and, if need be, 
 struggle for his consent. No man shall hang unjustly, if I 
 can help it. But look you, Mr Hylton, upon my word and 
 honour I think nothing will come of all this ; and I fear, 
 when I may have disturbed and grieved, and it may be 
 angered Lord Milverstoke, the matter that I may be 
 permitted to tell, will signify Httle or nothing : I cannot see 
 how it does, I assure you." Here the servant announced the 
 horses ; and, hastily bidding adieu to Mr Hylton, on whom 
 he promised to call in returning from the Castle, and, if 
 Mr Hylton had gone to London, follow after him post-haste, 
 if need might be — but if Lord Milverstoke proved inexor- 
 able, of course Captain Lutteridge would take no further 
 steps — off galloped the Captain, and his man, at top speed, 
 followed at a more moderate, but still a quick pace, by Mr 
 Hylton. If what had just taken place at the barracks 
 appeared strange, however unsatisfactory and tantalising, 
 there awaited him at home, presently, intelligence still more 
 so, and calculated to invest the case in which he had 
 interested himself with real mystery. When he was about 
 to dismount at the parsonage door, behold, Mrs Hylton, 
 unable to restrain her impatience, rushed forward to meet 
 
156 NOW AND THEN. 
 
 him ; and before he could give his horse into the hands of 
 the old gardener, who also had been for the last two hours 
 anxiously looking out for him, and even before Mrs Hylton 
 could speak to him about the dismal result of the trial, she 
 put an open letter into his hand, saying — 
 
 "There, dearest! read it, read it!" Shortly after his 
 quitting the parsonage in the morning, Mrs Hylton had also 
 gone, pursuant to a previous arrangement with him, to the 
 infirmary, which was at about five miles' distance, to be pre- 
 sent with the unfortmiate wife of the man who was to be 
 that day tried for his life. Some three hours after the par- 
 sonage had thus been deserted for the day, the post came in, 
 bringing a letter addressed to Mr Hylton, and marked 
 outside '* post-haste." The gardener had accompanied ]\Irs 
 Hylton, and only the old housekeeper and a servant girl 
 were left in the house. On Mrs Hylton's return, about six 
 o'clock in the evening, this letter caught her eye, and 
 having opened it in consequence of the words " post-haste," 
 guess the feelings with which she read as follows : — 
 
 " Rectoiy, Midgecombe, 28tli March. 
 
 "Dear Mr Hylton, 
 
 " In my husband's absence, on an expedition in which I 
 am sure you would take an interest, seeing it is to preach a 
 charity sermon on behalf of a lying-in society about to be 
 founded, and of which our bishop highly approves, and has 
 invited my husband to ofiiciate on this occasion, I have 
 opened several letters which came for him yesterday and 
 to-day, and one of them appears to have come from some 
 
NOW AND THEN. 137 
 
 place on the French coast, and relates to that horrid murder 
 of poor Lord Alkmond, which is to be tried (I think my 
 husband said) at the close of the Assizes for your comity. 
 I do not Iviiow the particulars of the case, but this letter 
 seems written by some one who has lived in this parish, and 
 knows my husband — and says, in effect, that the man that 
 wrote it is a mate in a small coasting vessel ; and having 
 seen a country paper, telling about the murder of Lord 
 Alkmond, recollects one of their men being in a boat on the 
 very night it happened, his vessel being at a couple of miles' 
 distance, waiting for this man to return from some errand 
 to the shore. He says it was nearly opposite Milverstoke 
 Castle, and he recollects hearing guns fired in the wood, 
 and, immediately before or afterwards, he saw one, or it 
 might be two persons, running very quickly along the shore. 
 He says the sailor recollects it, because he supposed 'twas 
 some poaching business. The writer says he looks forward 
 to being in England very soon, after they leave Dunkirk, 
 from which place the letter seems written. As the man 
 who is accused is unfortunately a parishioner of yours, and 
 doubtless you take an interest in the case, I thought it light 
 to tell you of this curious letter, which I would have sent, 
 but that I expect my husband home hourly, and thought it 
 better to keep the letter till he comes. — With best remem- 
 brances to Mrs Hylton, (how is she in this bitter cold 
 weather?) I am, dear Mr Hylton, yours sincerely, 
 
 '^ Fanny Merton." 
 '' P. S. — The man's name is ^ Jevons,' or some such 
 name (but horridly written,) and my maid says she recol- 
 
158 NOW AXD THEN. 
 
 lects that there was a young fellow of that name near us 
 some years ago, and thinks he went to sea. By the way, 
 he says something about a note m the log-book." 
 
 The letter almost fell from Mr Hylton's hands by the 
 time that he had breathlessly read it over ; and he looked 
 so harassed and confounded that his good wife, who had a 
 world of questions to ask him, slipped out of the room into 
 an adjoining one, where preparations for supper had been 
 going on, and brought him a glass of wine, which he drank 
 from her hands almost mechanically. 
 
 "Ifwe had had this letter at the trial to-day ! " he exclaimed. 
 
 " Sure, my dear, I have not done wrong ? I never saw 
 it till I came back this evening." 
 
 ^'ISTo, my dear Mary, how can you suppose that I think 
 so ? This is a most extraordinary accident — if, indeed, there 
 he such a thing as accident." 
 
 "But poor Ayliffe" — she interposed, anxiously. 
 
 He shook his head. " The worst has happened. He is 
 condemned to death, and is left for execution on Monday 
 morning ; the Judge made it an awfully clear case of guilt ! 
 but I have been with poor Ayliffe smce, and verily believe 
 him as innocent of it as you or I. How is his poor wife ? 
 Did she know what was going on ?" 
 
 " No ; the doctor had taken care, for fear of accidents, to 
 give her some sleeping medicine, and she has dozed all day 
 long." 
 
 " Mary ! " said Mr Hylton, suddenly, " I start for London 
 by the coach to-night. I will go to the Secretary of State's 
 about this miserable victim of mistake ! " 
 
NOW AND THEN. 1 59 
 
 " Why, the coach will be here m three-quarters of an 
 hour's time ! " 
 
 " Put me up, dearest, a change of linen at once, to be 
 ready " — 
 
 " But get your supper, first, surely, Henry ! You will 
 be fainting for mere want of food ! " 
 
 Having hastily swallowed a little refreshment, he went 
 out to borrow ten pounds from his church-warden, who lived 
 at a neighbouring farm-house (not, himself, having sufficient 
 money by him.) Having obtained the necessary supplies, 
 and made what hasty arrangements the time admitted of, 
 especially in respect of his Sunday duty, which gave him 
 great anxiety, lest there should be no one to do it, owing to 
 this hurried movement of his ; he carefully placed in his 
 pocket-book the all-important letter above mentioned, also 
 the memorandum signed by Sir Henry Harrington ; and 
 kissed his wife, who bade her good husband, with tears and 
 fond embraces, God-speed. 
 
 '^ But, my dear," said she, suddenly, " suppose there 
 should be no room in the coach, outside or in? " 
 
 " Oh dear, dear ! that never occurred to me ; really, 
 Mary, you are always supposing such mischances " — 
 
 "Yes; but, dearest, you know we must consider these 
 things!" 
 
 Here they heard the distant horn of the approaching 
 vehicle, which had only a few months before made its ap- 
 pearance in these parts; and, followed by the gardener, 
 bearing a small portmanteau, Mr Hylton made his way 
 quickly to the inn where the coach changed horses — so tor- 
 
160 NOW AND THEN. 
 
 mented by the possibility (overlooked by himself) of there 
 being no place for him, that he nearly forgot Captain 
 Lutteridge's expedition to the Castle. When that, however, 
 occurred to him, he became very anxious, straining his ears 
 in the direction of the wood, but heard no sounds. Fortun- 
 ately, there proved to be a vacant place on the coach — had 
 there not, it might have gone hard with poor AylifFe, for 
 posting up to London was a very serious matter, and quite 
 beyond Mr Hylton's means. This was a Httle auspicious 
 circumstance, which dwelt long and often upon his mind as 
 they rattled onward to London on his momentous errand. 
 In about five minutes' time the coach rolled smoothly and 
 rapidly past a small solitary cottage, near the road-side, 
 for which Mr Hylton's eye had been on the look-out, while 
 a pang shot through his aifectionate heart ; for he thought 
 of the poor child lying there, all imconscious that its mother 
 was on a bed of death — even if then alive ; and its father 
 heavily ironed in the horrible condemned cell, doomed to 
 die the ignominious death of a murderer within a few short 
 hours, unless Providence should vouchsafe success to the 
 efforts at that moment being made on his behalf by Mr 
 Hylton. Unuttered by his lips, from the depths of his pious 
 and trustful heart, proceeded an humble prayer to God, 
 from this. His minister, that He woidd be pleased to give 
 His blessing to the undertaking in which that minister was 
 then engaged. The night was bitterly cold, and Mr Hylton 
 much exhausted from long-continued anxiety, and want of 
 rest and food. Once or twice he would have fallen into the 
 road, but for the interposition of his friendly and more 
 
NOW AND THEN. 161 
 
 wakeful neighbour, who told him, with a smile, on the oc- 
 casion of his being thoroughly roused from fitful sleep, about 
 three o'clock, by the echoing sound of the guard's horn, and 
 the thundering clatter of hoofs and wheels through one of 
 the silent towns on their way, where they changed horses 
 — that any one who had heard him might have supposed 
 that he was some capital convict escaping from Jack 
 Ketch ! 
 
 " What, friend !" said Mr Hylton, slightly confused, " do 
 you say that I have been talking in my sleep ?" 
 
 " Ay, sir, I reckon you have, indeed," quoth the coach- 
 man, with a respectful laugh — for he of course saw that Mr 
 Hylton was a clergyman ; and was, besides, himself at that 
 place surrendering the reins to his successor, and had gratui- 
 ties in view. 
 
 No more on the road slept Mr Hylton , nor spoke he more 
 than a word of casual and constrained civility to his fellow- 
 travellers, being intently concerned with his own weighty 
 and troubled thoughts. He was going to introduce himself 
 forthwith to a great Minister — the Secretary of State — 
 without knowing how to obtain access to so exalted a 
 functionary, being totally ignorant of all matters of official 
 etiquette and procedure, and unacquainted with any one in 
 London who could give him assistance in his desperate 
 emergency. He trusted, however, to the purity of his 
 motives, the consciousness of a courage which no fear of 
 man had ever damited, and the support and blessing of 
 God. But still he could not blink the difficulties of the case. 
 He was bent on interrupting the due course of the law, on a 
 
 M 
 
162 NOW AND THEX. 
 
 memorable and unliappily notorious occasion; he was 
 tiying to get interposed the royal prerogative of mercy 
 towards the convicted mm'derer of Lord Alkmond, after 
 an miexceptionable trial, before the eminent Cliief Justice of 
 England, who had publicly and solemnly declared his entire 
 approval of the verdict which consigned the prisoner to the 
 gallows. And with what weapons had Mr Hylton entered 
 upon this warfare? His heart sunk within him as he 
 surveyed their inadequacy. Suppose Mr Oxley and 
 his evidence were discarded altogether from the case, w^as it 
 not impregnable, as built on unquestionable facts and the 
 piisoner's own acknowledgments ? What could Mr Hylton 
 say, as a matter of conscience and honom', of the singular 
 communication which had been made to him by Captain 
 Lutteridge, utterly ignorant as Mr Hylton was of the 
 nature of the conversation which appeared to have agitated 
 Lord Alkmond shortly pre\^ous to his murder ; and above 
 all, restrained as Mr Hylton was from making any use of 
 that communication, till authorised by Captain Lutteridge ? 
 And as for the letter received from Mrs Merton, he had not 
 that original letter with him : in short, Mr Hylton, as he 
 drew nearer the mighty Babylon, which he had not seen for 
 upwards of a quarter of a century, became more and more 
 dejected and desponding. 
 
NOW AND THEN. 163 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 That simple-minded and gallant officer. Captain Lutte- 
 ridge, performed his promise to Mr Hylton to the very 
 letter, but felt exceedingly disconcerted as he rode rapidly 
 along to the Castle. For, at what a moment, and on what 
 a subject, was he approaching the Earl of Milverstoke ? 
 On the very day on which his son's publicly-proved mur- 
 derer had been capitally convicted ; the Captain having 
 little or no personal acquaintance with his Lordship, beyond 
 having experienced his splendid hospitalities ; intent upon 
 tearing open cruel wounds, just as they might be imagined 
 beginning to heal — by suggesting all sorts of painful and 
 agitating surmises to the Earl concerning his deceased son, 
 if his Lordship were indeed unacquainted with the facts 
 concerning which Captain Lutteridge was coming to speak. 
 " Egad," thought he, '•'- 1 shall be thought a paltry, gossip- 
 ing, meddling mischief-maker and eaves-dropper ! What 
 business had / to have said one syllable about a private 
 conversation at the Castle ? Why must I mention it at 
 all ? Bah !" The Captain bit his lips ; his gallop subsided 
 into a canter, then into a trot, and the trot into a walk, as 
 he thought of all these things ; and by the time that he had 
 
1C4 NOW AND THEN. 
 
 reached the park gates, which his attendant had gone for- 
 ward to get opened, greatly to the astonishment of the 
 sleepy gate-keeper, the Captain walked his horse very 
 slowly indeed — slower and slower, and at length fairly 
 stood still for some minutes, as did also his mechanical 
 follower ; who indeed would have stood so for a fortnight, 
 or any longer given period, as a matter of course, without 
 inward questioning or surprise, if so had done, or ordered 
 him to do, his commanding officer. But Captain Lutte- 
 ridge recollected that his promise had been given, and that, 
 too, on a matter of life and death ; and suddenly urging 
 his horse into a rapid pace, soon made his way along the 
 winding gloomy road leading to the Castle, and reined up 
 his reeking horse, and dismounted, just as a couple of tall 
 seiwants, startled by his attendant's appeal to the bell, 
 slowly drew open half the great central door, and came out 
 to inquire who it was that had arrived at so unusual an 
 hour. A great wood fire, that had blazed in the hall dur- 
 mg the day, was now burnt down to red embers ; and only 
 a dull flickering light fell from the antique lamp suspended 
 from the lofty roof. 
 
 The Captain strode into the hall with a stout heart, and 
 said, in his usual peremptory way — " Is my Lord Milver- 
 stoke in the Castle?" 
 
 " He is, sir." 
 
 " Send some one hither immediately, who may take a 
 message to his Lordship : I am Captain Lutteridge." 
 
 For a moment or two he was left alone, and inwardly 
 protested that he would give a hundred pounds to see him- 
 
NOW AND THEN. 165 
 
 self decently at the end of this strange and bootless 
 expedition ; for he felt now certain, that he should appear 
 before the harassed peer in no other light than that of a 
 very impertinent and unfeeling intruder. Presently came 
 the personage for whom he had sent, who with an air of 
 great politeness assured the Captain that on no account 
 could his Lordship be disturbed at that hour, being just 
 about to retire to his chamber, and being, moreover, some- 
 what indisposed. 
 
 '' Take his Lordship, nevertheless, my name, sir, imme- 
 diately ; assuring him that were my errand not most 
 pressing, I would not trespass on his Lordship's privacy in 
 this manner." 
 
 On this the gentleman bowed and withdrew, leaving the 
 Captain with all the comfortable composure of one con- 
 sciously standmg on a mine certain to explode within a 
 minute or two. He was presently invited into an adjoining 
 chamber, where he saw a gentleman in black, who begged 
 to be favoured with the nature of his business at that hour 
 with the Earl of Milverstoke. 
 
 " Is it not enough, sir, for me to say who I am, and that 
 I must see his Lordship, if it be only for a few minutes, on 
 business that admits of no delay ? In short, life and death 
 being, possibly, concerned ! " 
 
 The gentleman gave him a strange look, and then with- 
 drew, promising to return very shortly, with the Earl's 
 pleasm^e on the matter. 
 
 " My Lord was about retiring, and is indisposed to see 
 any one, sir," said he, reappearing after the lapse of a few 
 
166 NOW AND THEN. 
 
 minutes ; ^' but I am to say, that after what you have 
 mentioned, sir, his Lordship camiot but receive you for a 
 short tune. Will you follow me, sir?" 
 
 So the Captam did, with a certain quaint, cheerless 
 determination, mixed of courage and shame; and presently 
 was ushered into a magnificent apartment, where sat the 
 Earl, alone, in evening dress, in deep mourning, with a 
 melancholy countenance, and a restrained demeanour. 
 
 " I have the honour to receive you. Captain Lutteridge," 
 said his Lordship, with a courtesy manifestly tinged with 
 stem surprise, '' at a very unusual hom^, at your pressing 
 instance. I am told that you represent it as concerning 
 matters of life and death. What can you possibly mean, 
 sir?" 
 
 " Though I feel, my Lord," replied Captain Lutteridge, 
 fii-mly, ^' that I appear intrusive, and a great effort it has 
 cost me to come, I don't relish, I must own, the tone in 
 which your Lordship is pleased to address one who has the 
 honour to bear His Majesty's commission, and has had also 
 the honour to be a guest of your Lordship's." 
 
 '' Captain Lutteridge, I beg your pardon," said the Earl, 
 oftily, " if any thing in my demeanour has offended you. 
 I am not well, sir, as I thuik ; and you may possibly be 
 able to guess that this has been a day not calculated to 
 compose my spirits." 
 
 This last was said with real dignity and sorrow, and his 
 frank visitor's pique vanished as the words were uttered. 
 
 ^' Being a soldier, my Lord," said he, with a frank, cour- 
 teous air, ''I will come instantly to the point. Your 
 
NOW AND THEN. 167 
 
 Lordship has of course heard all that took place at the trial 
 of — of the man — to-day ? " 
 
 " Sir, I have," replied his Lordship, gloomily. 
 
 '^ 'Tis about something which happened during the trial 
 that I have felt compelled to come to your Lordship, in 
 this untimely manner : the man dies on Monday morning, 
 my Lord, if the law take its com^se." 
 
 The Earl gazed at him in silence for some moments, 
 with a very peculiar expression of countenance, and the 
 Captain gazed at the Earl ; and both were silent. 
 
 " Well, sir, and what then?" inquired the Earl, slowly. 
 
 ^' Oh, my Lord, do not mistake me ; I am not come to 
 plead for a murderer ! " 
 
 " I earnestly entreat you, sir, to be so good as to inform 
 me immediately of the object of this your most extraor- 
 dinary errand to me ; I protest that I am quite confounded, 
 sir, at present." 
 
 " Your Lordship's known firmness of character will, I 
 am sure, tolerate my alluding for a moment to the — noble 
 victim of the convicted " 
 
 '' In the name of Heaven, sir, what are you talking 
 about?" inquired the Earl, with startling vehemence of 
 manner. 
 
 " Do not, my Lord, be distressed ; I will come at once to 
 the matter which has brought me hither. On the fatal 
 evening which made your Lordship sonless, I had the dis- 
 tinction of being one of your Lordship's guests : I remained 
 with the late lamented Lord Alkmond" — the Earl visibly 
 shuddered from head to foot — " and one or two others. 
 
168 NOW AND THEN. 
 
 after your Lordship and others had withdrawn ; and to-day, 
 in Court, the Judge, it seems, inquired — " 
 
 " I have heard, sir," said the Earl, m a subdued tone, 
 but still with great sternness, and making evidently a 
 strong effort to overcome his emotion, " that the Chief 
 Justice asked a question, which was not answered. — Have 
 you heard, sir, what that question was?" 
 
 " Yes, my Lord ; it was concerning the strangeness of 
 the Lord Alkmond's quitting the Castle at such an hour." 
 The Earl Involuntarily closed his eyes for a few seconds, in 
 manifest mental agony. '' I cannot tell, my Lord, what 
 was the cause of his Lordship's leaving on that occasion." 
 
 " Captain Lutteridge, I may see you," said the Earl, 
 with an agonised look, " another day — " 
 
 " I pledge to your Lordship the honour of an officer and 
 a gentleman, that the few words which I have to utter 
 must be said now, or never ! " 
 
 '' Do you w4sh, sir, to see me fall prostrate at your 
 feet?" inquired the Earl, with an air of extreme misery. 
 
 " No, my Lord ; and I will conclude in a moment. My 
 Lord, I recollect, on the occasion to which I allude, a con- 
 versation arising after your Lordship had withdrawn. I 
 took no part in it. I saw that, for some reason, the subject 
 talked of grew more and more distressing to my Lord Alk- 
 mond : I tried to change the topic, but it seemed fated to 
 be persevered with; and at length his Lordship was so 
 disturbed that I, with whom he was talldng, arose, much 
 concerned, to quit the room : whether others observed it 
 I know not, but we parted — I going to the ball-room, his 
 
NOW AND THEN. 169 
 
 Lordship towards the corridor leading to the terrace. That 
 is all, my Lord, that I know ; this has brought me hither ; 
 and I am to ask your Lordship for leave to tell all this, 
 signifying much, or signifying little, to those who may say 
 it is likely — in short, my Lord, 'tis said by some — that there 
 is a mystery hanging over this case, and that efforts will be 
 forthwith made in the proper quarter to get the man's life 
 spared long enough for further inquiry, if so be there re- 
 main time ; that is, the man at present having to die, by his 
 sentence, on Monday morning : therefore, my Lord, I, 
 thinking it only just to stir in this, when unfortunately 
 having chanced this day to let fall to others that which, till 
 now, had never passed my lips, am here, as I said to your 
 Lordship, on matters of life and death" — here the Castle 
 clock struck eleven; and the Captain added suddenly, "if 
 it be not, my Lord, already too late, the coach passing- 
 through Milverstoke in an hour hence. " 
 
 Captain Lutteridge was so completely absorbed with his 
 own earnest feelings, and the not very complicated move- 
 ments of his own mind — at best, moreover, no particularly 
 acute observer of the manner of others — that he did not see 
 I the tremendous agitation which his noble companion was 
 domg his utmost to suppress. Had the light, too, been 
 somewhat brighter, the Captain might have observed evi- 
 dences in Lord Milverstoke's striking countenance, of the 
 shock which his straightforward and unthinking visitor had 
 occasioned him, by the strange account which he had given 
 concerning the mysterious conversation at the banquet, 
 immediately preceding Lord Alkmond's exit from the Castle 
 
1 70 NOW AND THEN. 
 
 into the woods, from which he was destined never to return 
 aUve. At length the restrained breathing of Lord Milvcr- 
 stoke, becommg every moment more and more violent, 
 attracted the attention of Captain Lutteridge 
 
 ^' WI17, my Lord, I fear much that I have disquieted your 
 Lordship — that you are ill. God forbid, my Lord, that I 
 should have occasioned you this distress ; but I never thought 
 it would have come to this point, or I would not have stirred 
 in the matter. I hope I have your Lordship's pardon for 
 an imtimely visit ; one which, I begin to fear, is somewhat 
 unmannerly even. But did your Lordship never hear of all 
 this before ? seeing three or four others knew it besides me, 
 and now I wish I had not. My Lord ! my Lord ! you seem 
 ill J shall I call for assistance?" 
 
 Lord ]\Iilverstoke heaved a vast sigh, and stretched forth 
 his hand violently, deprecating the threatened movement of 
 the Captain, who was quite bewildered by the sight of such 
 fearful mental agony, which he could not account for satis- 
 factorily, merely by referring to his present visit and the 
 communication which he had made. 
 
 "Shall I retire, my Lord?" said he. 
 
 Lord Milverstoke rose hastily, shaking his head, and 
 walked to and fro rapidly, with even increasing agitation, 
 having, mdeed, a far deeper cause for it than was dreamed of 
 by the Captain, though he had unknowingly called it into 
 action. The Earl walked with heavy step to the door, and 
 secured it ; then returned to his seat, and in a low smothered 
 voice said, "What was the subject that you talked of?" 
 
 The Captain told him, in a single word, which caused 
 
NOW AND THEN. 171 
 
 Lord Mllverstoke suddenly to sink back in his chair, as 
 though he had been seized with a fit. Captain Lutteridge 
 instantly rose and went towards the door, saying to himself, 
 aloud, " Now will I have help ; " which words, added to the 
 loud sound of his footfalls hastening to the door, roused Lord 
 Milverstoke, and with a great effort he exclaimed, ^' Sir — 
 Captain Lutteridge — pray sir, let us remain alone : this is 
 my house ; surely, sir, I am master here ! " 
 
 Both remained silent for some minutes, during which the 
 flustered faculties of Captain Lutteridge were occupied with 
 only one thought — " Could any man living have supposed 
 all this would have come out of the business? " 
 
 Language, indeed, could not adequately describe the 
 feelings which were at that moment convulsing the very 
 soul of Lord Milverstoke Avithin him ; for a new and fearful 
 light had been suddenly reflected on some scenes between 
 him and his late son, which had always occasioned the Earl, 
 even in his son's Hfetime, anxiety ; and, after his death, 
 serious disquietude. The former, however, had been in no 
 small degree tinged with displeasure ; the latter, with grief 
 and misgiving. The unbidden visitor before him, on whose 
 face the Earl's eye was fixed, half unconsciously, had, as it 
 were, ruthlessly opened the grave of Lord Alkmond, that 
 his miserable figure might glide reproachfully and in terror 
 before a father who had ever, by his own austerity and pride, 
 checked and disheartened that son, when he might have 
 meditated reposing hearty confidence in his father, as between 
 man and man. " What may not my poor Alkmond have 
 been bm'thened with when he — when he implored me — in 
 
172 NOW AND THEX. 
 
 vain," — thought the Earl, pressing both his hands to his 
 forehead, and then rising and pacing the chamber to and 
 fro, with an expression of countenance which led Captain 
 Lutteridge to fear the possibility of his being alone with one 
 who was about to burst out into madness. The Captain 
 resolved, therefore, simply to be on his guard, making his 
 observations in silence, upon the perturbed spirit before 
 him. The Earl appeared to start from one reverie 
 only to sink into some other, more agitating ; but gra- 
 dually the violence of his feelings seemed to be somewhat 
 abating. 
 
 At length, '' My Lord, it is long since the clock struck 
 eleven," abruptly exclaimed the Captain, rising. 
 
 " Is it, sir ? " inquii-ed the Earl, languidly, and as though 
 he did not comprehend why the Captain had made the 
 observation. 
 
 " Yes, my Lord, nearly half an horn' : the coach goes by 
 at twelve, and Mr Hylton starts " — 
 
 " What, su'? what, sir? " inteimpted the Earl, sternly. 
 '' Oh, I had forgotten ; private circumstances. Captain Lut- 
 teridge, which you know not of, nor ever can, have caused 
 yom' words this night to stab me as with a knife ! And 
 besides, su*, sorrow has of late not a little shaken my 
 nerves." 
 
 " My Lord, I cannot adequately express my regret : but 
 time presses — what is to be done? " 
 
 The Earl looked as though evidently making a strong 
 effort to address his mind to what the Captain was saying 
 to him. 
 
NOW AND THEN. 173 
 
 " The man hangs, my Lord, past praying for, on Monday 
 mormng" — 
 
 ''And why should he not, sh'?" thundered the Earl, 
 in a voice which echoed through the lofty and spacious 
 apartment, and for a moment all trace of his Lordship's 
 previous agony had disappeared. 
 
 " Why, my Lord, perhaps," said Captain Lutteridge, 
 stoutly and calmly, " he may not be rightly con- 
 demned." 
 
 "Are you in your senses, sir?" mquired the Earl, 
 vehemently. 
 
 " Yes, my Lord," replied Captain Lutteridge quietly. 
 
 "I think you are not, sir! Nor are you, sir ! Do you, 
 in your sober senses, come hither to the father of one so 
 savagely murdered" — his voice shook — " as my son was, 
 and speak of the accursed miscreant convicted of it, as 
 possibly innocent, against proof as clear as that Cain 
 murdered Abel ? And did I hear, sir, aright, that you and 
 Mr Hylton — Mr Hylton — are laying your heads together to 
 defeat justice — to call my son in anger and horror out of his 
 grave ?" He paused. 
 
 " My Lord, a plain-spoken soldier am I, and must needs 
 come to the point. The time, my Lord, the time !" he 
 continued, in a loud and peremptory tone. 
 
 '' What is your object here, sir?" inquired the Earl with 
 gloomy fierceness. 
 
 " Can I have your Lordship's leave to tell Mr Hylton 
 that which I have just mentioned to your Lordship ?" 
 
 " No, sir !" answered the Earl, again in a voice of 
 
1 74 NOW AND THEN. 
 
 thunder; and his eye seemed to glance lightning at his 
 companion ; who bowed and said, rather sternly. 
 
 " That, my Lord, suffices. God forbid that I should so 
 far forget the character of an officer, of a gentleman, as to 
 utter a syllable more to any one living upon the subject, 
 without your Lordship's permission, in whose house I heard 
 it. Time, therefore NOW no longer presses my Lord," said 
 the Captam, with sad emphasis ; ^' and I can but, in 
 quitting your Lordship, ask your forgiveness for thus having 
 troubled you so unwarrantably." 
 
 ''What can this, that you have told me, sir," said the 
 Earl, with returning agitation, " by any possibility have to 
 do with the bloodthirsty miscreant who is to die on Monday ? 
 Should you not, sir, have considered that., before you came, 
 this night, hither?" 
 
 " My Lord, I did consider, and that to the best of my 
 power : and I myself said, that even should your Lordship 
 give me the permission which I sought for, I saw not its 
 bearuig on the case of him that is to die on Monday." 
 
 " Nor has it, sir ! nor can it, sir ! — not one iota .''" 
 
 The Earl seemed suddenly moved by some inward feel- 
 ings of a less stormy nature than those by which he had 
 hitherto been agitated. 
 
 " Captain Lutteridge," he continued, "I am a man nearly 
 broken down by misery and misfortune, heavier than man 
 can bear : therefore I ask your pardon, very heartily, sir, 
 for any discourtesy of which I may have been guilty ; but 
 you have taken me frightfully by surprise." 
 
 The utter wretchedness of the Earl's voice and manner. 
 
NOW AND THEN. 175 
 
 as he spoke these words, penetrated the heart of Captain 
 Lutteridge. 
 
 '' My Lord, I trust you will say nothing of it. I owe your 
 Lordship unspeakable amends for what I have done ; and 
 now see what methinks I might liave seen before, had I 
 considered the matter fully," replied the Captain heartily; 
 "but it was the thought of Hfe and death that led me 
 astray." 
 
 " Do you not think, sir, that If I believed there were any 
 reasonable doubt of the guilt which has been openly proved 
 to-day, according to law, against the prisoner, I would not, 
 from mere justice, wish him to escape ? " 
 
 " God forbid that you should not, my Lord." 
 
 "But this man, sir, has long had a deadly malice against 
 me and my family, sir — so has his father : you know not a 
 tithe of the matter. Captain, I verily assure you." 
 
 "My Lord, I know nothing whatever of it, but from 
 public talli." 
 
 " Did you say, sir, that this night persons are travelling 
 to London to attempt to procure the pardon of a clearly 
 convicted murderer?" 
 
 " My Lord, Mr Hylton has by this time, I reckon, taken 
 his seat in the coach, and such Is certainly his object 5 so I 
 understood him." 
 
 The Earl said nothing, but sighed with mingled anger 
 and astonishment. After a pause, " Captain Lutteridge," 
 said he, " may I ask so great a favour of you, as that you 
 will speak to me again on Tuesday upon the subject which 
 you have this evening communicated to me ? I never till 
 
176 NOW AND THEN. 
 
 now heard of it ; and can it be doubted, sir, that any thing 
 rebating to my late son, my unhappy Alkmond, must be of 
 painful, nay, frightful interest to me? " 
 
 " Most wiUingly shall I attend your Lordship." 
 ^' And in the mean time. Captain Lutteridge, I implore 
 you to spare the feelings of a bereaved father, and talk not 
 of these matters to others, when your so doing may sei-ve 
 only to spread idle and distressing rmnours. Remember, 
 sir," — his voice quivered — "his youthful widow! — she at 
 present survives — is at this unhappy moment under the 
 same roof with you, but may soon follow her murdered 
 husband to the grave." 
 
 " That grave shall not be more silent than I, my Lord ! " 
 The Captain, as he uttered these words, rose, and bowing 
 low to the afflicted peer, who courteously and sadly bade 
 him adieu, quitted the apartment, and immediately after- 
 wards the Castle ; riding rapidly home to the barracks, his 
 mind in a strange tumult. He had seen no little service in 
 his day, but never before had meddled with such matters as 
 had just occurred between himself and the Earl of Milver- 
 stoke. AVhen he had reached the imi where the coach 
 stopped, he found that Mr Hylton had gone by it to London 
 some quarter of an hour before; and without knowing 
 precisely why, the Captain took it for granted that, after 
 what had just taken place at the Castle, Mr Hylton's errand 
 was in vain, and that before his return to Milverstoke the 
 convict Ayliffe's body would be in the hands of the surgeon. 
 
NOW AND THEN. 177 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 Rather late in the afternoon of Saturday Mr Hylton 
 arrived in London, and put up, for the few hours during 
 which he intended staying there, at the inn where the coach 
 stopped. He took not long to dress, and still less to partake 
 of refreshment, anxious to lose not a moment of his precious 
 time. Forth, therefore, he sallied towards Westmmster, 
 with the situation and localities of which he had, in earlier 
 days, been not unacquainted. As he was hurrying along 
 the crowded streets, the incessant and strange hubbub of 
 which seemed stunning to a comparative recluse like him- 
 self, desperately fatigued also, and absorbed with a most 
 portentous mission, it suddenly recurred to him, as he got in 
 sight of the Government offices and ministerial residences, 
 that he was a total stranger in London, having come off 
 without credentials or introductions of any kind. How then 
 was he to expect reception and attention from the Secre- 
 tary of State, on a matter, moreover, of such magnitude as 
 attempting to stay the execution of a criminal whose con- 
 viction for so enormous an atrocity as the murder of Lord 
 Alkmond had become a subject of national attention? As 
 all this flashed across his mind, he stopped, struck his stick 
 
 N 
 
J 78 NOW AND THEN. 
 
 despairingly on the pavement, and for some fnoments 
 arrested the attention of the passers by, as the very image 
 of one, indeed, in a horrid quandary. For, looked at from 
 this point of view, the grounds or materials on which he had 
 been relying for the success of his application seemed sud- 
 denly shrunk and shrivelled into nothing, or at least gross 
 inadequacy to their object. But the miserable image of 
 AylifFe, lying heavily ironed in the condemned cell, brought 
 withm a few hours of eternity — the sands of life running out 
 fast — and he too a perfectly innocent man, as Mr Hylton in 
 his conscience believed him, quickened his movements and 
 re-strung his relaxed energies. Silently invokmg God's 
 blessing on his humane enterprise, he luuTied onward and 
 presented himself at the door of the Secretary of State's 
 office, before which was slowly pacing a sentry, who paid 
 no attention whatever to his inquiry whether the Secretary 
 of State wxre within. Makmg up his mind to encounter 
 and disregard all kmds of discourtesy, so as he but gained 
 his object, and trusting some little to his sacred character 
 and appearance, and his consciousness of having a gentle- 
 man's address, he entered the outer office, from which were 
 at the moment passing several gentlemen drawing on their 
 gloves, and some holding riding-whips in their hands, as if 
 intending forthwith to momit their horses, which were stand- 
 ing at the door. One of these, a gay young gentleman, 
 evidently of quality, Mr Hylton, m a courteous manner, 
 spoke to, as he was passing, heartily laughing at some joke 
 of the person nearest to him, and who seemed very obse- 
 quious. 
 
NOW AND THEN. 179 
 
 "Sir, I ask your forgiveness for the intrusion," quotli Mr 
 Hylton in an earnest manner, taking off his hat ; '' but is 
 the Secretary of State within ? " 
 
 "What though he be?" jocularly interposed the com- 
 panion of the gentleman who had been addressed. The 
 latter, however, took off his hat with a bland and high-bred 
 air, nobly contrasting with that of the rude intiiider, and 
 said, "Lord Farnborough, sir, is within, but cannot be seen, 
 bemg here beyond his usual hour of attendance, engaged on 
 business of great importance : but, reverend sir, can I do 
 aught for you in the meanwhile ?" 
 
 "I greatly thank you, sir," — 
 
 "My Lord, if you please" — internipted the one already 
 spoken of, with an air of vulgar sycophancy, which was 
 fittingly rewarded by his noble companion desiring him, 
 with transparent contempt of manner, to see whether his 
 lordship's horse was in readiness. 
 
 "Will you follow me, sir, for a moment ?" said the young 
 Lord, and immediately turned back, requesting Mr Hylton 
 to accompany him ; and the two walked through several 
 long, lofty, dusky passages, till they arrived at the room 
 which Mr Hylton's companion had only just quitted. 
 Having ordered out the servants, who were busily engaged 
 arranging the chairs and tables, "What may be your 
 eiTand, sir?" said he, in a very gracious manner. 
 
 "My Lord — for 'tis plain I, through unacquaintance with 
 town, mistook your Lordship's rank and station" — 
 
 "Oh, think nothing of it, sir, I beg," said his Lordship, 
 rather hastily. 
 
180 
 
 NOW AND THEN, 
 
 "I have just come up, my Lord, concerning a case of life 
 and death " — 
 
 "Oh! some prisoner left for execution at one of the 
 Assizes ? I miderstand : proceed, sir, if you please. But 
 may I ask who you are, reverend sir?" 
 
 " I am the Keverend Henry Hylton, Vicar of Milver- 
 stoke, my Lord." 
 
 " Ho ! Milverstoke ! Milverstoke ! That is the place," 
 said his Lordship, very gravely, "where the man was 
 yesterday convicted for the murder of my Lord Alkmond, 
 Lord Milverstoke's son?" 
 
 " Yes, my Lord, he is to suffer his sentence on Monday, 
 imless he be respited, and on that subject I have come up, 
 and have but just quitted the coach." 
 
 " Oh! you are seeking a respite? but that, you know, 
 especially in such a case as this— however, of course you 
 are prepared with grounds f " 
 
 " I am, my Lord." 
 
 " Sir, you shall see my Lord Famborough immediately ; 
 he will, I am sure, receive you, however otherwise occu- 
 pied he may haj^pen just now to be." On this his Lordship 
 withdi-ew, leaving Mr Hylton alone for a few moments ; 
 on which he took out his pocket-book, saw that his few 
 manuscripts were there in readiness, and hastily arranged 
 his thoughts so as to express himself with the utmost 
 possible brevity, point, and force. After scarcely three 
 minutes' absence, his Lordship returned, followed by a 
 gentleman, whom he desu^ed to show ]\Ir Hylton into the 
 private room of Lord Farnborough : a minute more, and 
 
NOW AND THEN. 181 
 
 the all-important Interview between Mr Hylton and tlie 
 Minister had commenced. The nobleman who then filled 
 that office of splendid responsibility was an eminent states- 
 man — a great man — the whole of whose energies and 
 resources were just then taxed to the uttermost by the 
 distracted state of the country, and the necessity of 
 promptly and effectually providing for its safety, and at the 
 same time justifying his measures against a most malignant 
 Opposition in parliament. Mr Hylton, himself a man of 
 intellect, was instantly charmed by the Minister's appear- 
 ance ; for, with a noble cast of features, decisively eviden- 
 cing practised mental power, he looked calmness itself: 
 though evidently harassed, by no means oj>pressed., by his 
 multifarious and distracting duties. He quietly and cour- 
 teously pointed to a vacant chair nearly opposite to him, 
 and on which Mr Hylton immediately sat down. 
 
 '•'• Will you be so obliging as to state, shortly, your 
 business, sir?" said Lord Famborough, 
 
 " I presume, my Lord, you have heard of the murder of 
 the late Lord Alkmond?" 
 
 " Yes, sir ; and I find that a person named Ayliffe 
 was yesterday tried before the Lord Chief Justice at the 
 Assizes, convicted for the murder, and is left for execution 
 on Monday." 
 
 " That is so, my Lord. I am the Yicar of Milverstoke, 
 and the convict is an old parishioner of mine, of hitherto 
 spotless and exemplary character. I am perfectly satisfied 
 that he is really innocent of this charge." 
 
 " How came he to be convicted, then? Have you any 
 
182 NOW AND THEN. 
 
 evidence which was not laid before the judge and jiuy ? 
 And if it was not, why ? Or do you imagine that there 
 has been any miscarriage?" 
 
 " If you will permit me, my Lord, to state briefly the 
 nature of the case as laid before the jury" — 
 
 *' Pardon me, sir, a moment," said his Lordship, gently 
 ringing a small hand-bell ; on which a gentleman entered, 
 to whom he whispered in a low tone. The gentleman 
 withdrew, and Mr Hylton proceeded to give a brief and 
 lucid sketch of the case as proved, to which he perceived 
 the Minister listening with perfect attention. While Mr 
 Hylton was proceeding, the gentleman above spoken of 
 reappeared, but immediately withdrew, after having silently 
 placed a sheet of paper before the Minister, who glanced at 
 it for an instant only, and resumed his attitude of close 
 attention to ^Ir Hylton. 
 
 " I perceive, sir," said his Lordship, when Mr Hylton 
 had concluded, " from your succinct and candid statement, 
 that any difficulties which might be supposed to have 
 existed, were conclusively disposed of by the prisoner's own 
 acknowledgment to the jury. I must say that it appears to 
 me an unusually strong case for a conviction. You ask 
 me, sir, to advise the interposition of the Royal prerogative 
 to stay the execution of the law — a matter always of infinite 
 delicacy, and, in this case, responsibility — and I, at present, 
 see no sufficient grounds for doing so. Since you have 
 been here, however, I have ascertained that the Lord 
 Chief Justice has amved in town, and is now at his 
 house. I expect his report this evening ; and in the mean 
 
NOW AND THEN. 183 
 
 time he Is the person to whom you should address your- 
 self." 
 
 " My Lord — forgive me, but did I succeed in making 
 myself understood, as asking not for a reprieve, but for a 
 short respite only, to afford time for inquiry?" 
 
 " Perfectly, sir — but you had better go at once to the 
 Lord Chief Justice, who has power to order — with whom, 
 indeed, it in the first instance properly rests — the respite for 
 which you ask. I recommend you, sir, however, not to be 
 sanguine." 
 
 '' But will his Lordship receive me at once ?" 
 
 " Unquestionably, sir ; in serious matters of this sort 
 every body is always accessible : God forbid that it should 
 be otherwise ! " 
 
 The Minister's significant glance, while uttering the last 
 words, at evidently a newly-opened despatch, apprised Mr 
 Hylton that his audience was over. Bowing profoundly, 
 he therefore withdrew ; the Minister courteously returning 
 his salutation, while his Lordship drew before him the 
 important and pressing document, of which Mr Hylton' s 
 arrival had delayed his perusal. Mr Hylton soon found his 
 way to the room where he had left the young Lord, who 
 had remained there waiting for him. Mr Hylton was 
 anxious to have spoken on the subject of his interview with 
 the Minister ; but, from his Lordship's manner, concluded 
 that such a procedure was contrary to etiquette. He, 
 therefore, contented himself with asking the address of the 
 Lord Chief Justice, which was immediately procured for 
 him ; and shortly afterwards got into a coach, and drove 
 
184 
 
 NOW AND THEN. 
 
 Straight to the Lord Chief Justice's house, greatly dis- 
 heartened by the reception which he had just met with from 
 the courteous but frigid Lord Famborough. On inquiring 
 whether the Lord Chief Justice was within, a footman 
 somewhat superciHouslj answered in the affii-mative, but 
 added that his Lordship, having only a few hours before 
 returned from Circuit, was about sitting down to dinner, 
 and could on no accoimt whatever be disturbed. Mr 
 Hylton pretty sharply said that his business admitted of no 
 delay. The butler, a corpulent, bald-headed, gentlemanly 
 person, happening at that moment to pass along the hall, and 
 hearing the peremptory tone in which Mr Hylton was speak- 
 ing, came forward, and in an affable manner said that he 
 had no objection to hear shortly the nature of the gentleman's 
 busmess, and by-and-by tell it to my Lord ; but that his 
 Lordship certainly could not be distm'bed till after dinner. 
 The grave nature of Mr Hylton's errand, and the earnest 
 humour of his mind, prevented his being amused, as he 
 otherwise woidd have been, by these menial airs. 
 
 ^' Tell his Lordship, if you please," said he quietly, " that 
 I am the Eeverend Mr Hyhon, the Yicar of Milverstoke." 
 
 "Oh! is it about the Milverstoke murder, sii'?" quoth 
 the butler, with a good-natured air : " 'tis a very awful 
 murder, folks say." 
 
 " Take in my name, sir, instantly to his Lordship !" said 
 Mr Hylton sternly. 
 
 " Bless us !" said the butler, half whistling, but went to 
 the library ; and, after a few minutes' absence retimied, quite 
 an altered man, bowing obsequiously ; and Mr Hylton was 
 
NOW AND THEN. 185 
 
 Immecliately ushered into the presence of the Lord Chief 
 Justice : a man considerably advanced in years ; of benevo- 
 lent countenance ; care-worn, grave, and of dignified bear- 
 ing; a great lawyer; of simple and pure character, and 
 unassuming manners. He sate beside a large fire, in 
 dinner-dress, but had been busily engaged reading, when 
 Mr Hylton's name was announced ; in short, his Lordship 
 was carefully looking over his notes of several capital cases, 
 and, amongst others, of that which had brought Mr Hylton 
 up to town. The instant that his name was mentioned, his 
 Lordship recollected the striking scene which he had 
 accidentally witnessed, immediately after sentencing the 
 Milverstoke murderer ; and nothing could be more respect- 
 ful or cordial than his reception of Mr Hylton. 
 
 " I fear I can only too surely conjecture, reverend sir," 
 said his Lordship gravely, as soon as Mr Hylton was 
 seated, '' the object of your visit to London ; it must be 
 connected with that terrible case of the murder of Lord 
 Alkmond, tried before me yesterday." 
 
 " It is so, my Lord, indeed," repHed Mr Hylton, sighing. 
 The Lord Chief Justice shook his head, and shrugged his 
 shoulders with dismal significance, but said nothing. '' I 
 trust that I shall be able, my Lord, notwithstanding those 
 ominous gestures of your Lordship's, to satisfy you that a 
 case is made out for, at all events, some little postponement 
 of the execution of the sentence, in order to afford time for 
 inquiry — I say — for inquiry — for inqui — " 
 
 Mr Hylton suddenly seemed unconscious of what he was 
 saying : having become very faint, and sinking back in his 
 
1^<5 XOW AND THEN. 
 
 chair — for a moment overcome with exhaustion, want of 
 food, and long-continued agitation and excitement. Tlie 
 Lord Chief Justice paid him the kindest attentions ; and 
 after a short time lie recovered himself, offering apologies, 
 but attributing the weakness frankly to the true cause. 
 
 '' Ah ! sir," said his Lordship, kindly, " these are very 
 agitating affairs, even to us Judges, however long we may 
 have been accustomed to this melancholy portion of our 
 duties; but let us go in to dinner, Mr Hylton— nay, I 
 positively insist upon it ! I am quite alone, with the excep- 
 tion of my wife, whom I have scarcely seen since my return 
 from Circuit a few hours ago, or you and I would dine 
 together alone. You cannot do justice to your case, what- 
 ever it may be — trust me— till you have a little recruited 
 your physical energies. We have, indeed, both travelled 
 far and fast since we met; and I, too, am somewhat 
 exhausted." 
 
 Mr Hylton intimated that dining would be, in his own 
 case, just then, an idle ceremony : — 
 
 " Sir," interiTipted the Lord Chief Justice, with an air of 
 good-natured peremptoriness, ^' I will not speak a syllable 
 to you on business, however pressing, till we have both 
 enabled ourselves, by a meal as brief and temperate as you 
 please, to attend to it with revived, and only befitting 
 energy." This proved Irresistible, and Mr Hylton pre- 
 sently found himself sitting at the plain and unostentatious 
 dinner-table of the Lord Chief Justice, and his lady. Not 
 a syllable was spoken by either his Lordship or Mr Hylton, 
 during dinner, concerning the subject, nor on any thing 
 
NOW AND THEN. 187 
 
 akin to it, which was to be so solemnly discussed by them 
 presently ; and within an hour from their sitting down, they 
 both withdrew to the library. 
 
 ^' Now, Mr Hylton," commenced his Lordship, with a 
 suddenly-resumed judicial air, turning over the leaves of a 
 manuscript volume, " I have before me my notes of the 
 trial of Adam Ayliffe, yesterday. What have you to say 
 on the subject ? Has any thing .important come to light 
 since the trial ? For if not, I must tell you, at the outset, 
 not to be sanguine as to the issue of your benevolent enter- 
 prise : for a clearer case, I think I have seldom, if indeed 
 ever, tried. I trust that you have no fault to find with the 
 way in which I put the case to the jury ? Pray, speak 
 freely, reverend sir, and without ceremony ; we are all 
 only too liable to error." 
 
 " My Lord, I frankly assure you that I can take no 
 exception whatever to your Lordship's summing up : it was 
 fearfully simple and cogent, but perfectly and absolutely 
 fair." 
 
 " Why, you see," said the Chief Justice, thoughtfully, 
 " the man's own hands fastened the rope round his neck : 
 he voluntarily took up a position, from which the wit of 
 man could not extricate him. Had he been acquitted, on 
 such a state of facts as went to the jury, trial would be a 
 farce. He bnngs himself to the body of the murdered 
 man instantly after the murder, and runs away bloody, and 
 with a bloody weapon capable of committing the murder, 
 as was sworn by the surgeon. Even if he thought he had 
 struck another man whom, according to his own story, he 
 
188 NOW AXD THEN. 
 
 had meant to strike, what signifies it In point of law ? The 
 person whom he so killed by mistake, he murdered : God 
 forbid, reverend sir, that there should be any doubt about 
 that!'' 
 
 " Oh no, my Lord ! — I do not presume to question the 
 law which your Lordship laid down : I own it seems to be 
 perfectly reasonable and just. But I venture to come now, 
 my Lord, at once to what I humbly but confidently submit 
 will satisfy your Lordship that this case cannot possibly rest 
 where it does at present." 
 
 " Well, let me hear," said the Lord Chief Justice, dis- 
 posing himself in an attitude of great attention ; but the 
 tone of his voice seemed, to Mr Hylton, to argue something 
 like a foregone conclusion as to the futility of what was to 
 be brought before him. 
 
 " Permit me to ask your Lordship, that I may not be 
 over-estimating the value of what I am gomg to adduce 
 before you, whether you did not deem of great importance 
 the absence of any soimd of footsteps in the wood, on the 
 night of the murder, in any other direction than that in 
 which the prisoner ran ?" 
 
 " Certainly, certainly ; surely I myself pressed the wit- 
 nesses on that part of the case?" 
 
 " You did, my Lord." 
 
 " And indeed the point is most important. If you recol- 
 lect, Mr Solicitor-General read a passage from Lord Coke, 
 in which that very condition is relied on as an integral part 
 of what he calls his violent presumption of guilt." 
 
 " Well, my Lord, and so it occurred to me," said Mr 
 
NOW AND THEN. 1S9 
 
 Hylton, taking out from his pocket-book, evidently with no 
 Uttle excitement and expectation, the letter of Mrs Merton ; 
 which, after explaming who the writer was, and how it was 
 that her communication had not reached him till after the 
 trial, he put into the Chief Justice's hands, and eyed 
 him, as he perused it, with extreme anxiety, scrutinising 
 every feature. The Chief Justice read it attentively — very 
 attentively, even twice — lookmg at the outside, the post- 
 mark, and superscription ; and all the while in perfect silence, 
 and with a countenance from which it was impossible to 
 collect what impression had been produced on his mind. 
 Then he quietly laid down the letter, towards Mr Hylton ; 
 Avhose face fell as he said, " Well, my Lord, what think 
 you? Have I overrated the importance of this letter?" 
 
 " You have not had the experience that I have had, Mr 
 Hylton," said he, with a serious air; '' nor have you any 
 idea of the cmming devices to which prisoners and their 
 friends will have recourse, to mislead inquiry, and divert 
 suspicion. I have known of one or two, and heard of 
 several, instances not unlike the present." 
 
 " Why, surely, surely, my Lord, you cannot have borne 
 in mind who the writer is — a lady, a friend of mine, wife of 
 a clergyman, and she of a most exemplary character? The 
 idea, my Lord, of Aer" — 
 
 " Oh, Mr Hylton, you quite misapprehend me. Inde- 
 pendently of even your own testimony, I think I know a 
 little myself of this lady : she belongs to a family with 
 whom I have some acquaintance, and her husband is, I 
 understand, a distmguished divine. This good lady believes, 
 
100 NOW AND THEN. 
 
 cloubtless,an tlie genuineness and authenticity of the letter 
 she speaks of; but" — he shook his head — " that carries us 
 a very httle way on our journey indeed ! I told you not to 
 be sanguine, Mr Hylton, as you must remember. Besides, 
 where is the original V How could any Judge safely act, 
 in even the most trivial case, on the document now before 
 us, which is not even, nor professes to be, a copy ? And 
 observe you, the original itself would, in my opinion, carry 
 us no further. Come, my dear sir," said he kindly, observ- 
 ing Mr Hylton's blank and crestfallen look, " can you 
 yourself supply me with reasons against the vahdity of 
 those with which I am forced to encounter yoiu* letter?" 
 
 " Yes, my Lord. Remember, I pray you, that I am not 
 asking for a pardon, nor calling on you to assume the 
 functions of a jury ; but only to interpose a little time for 
 inquiry, before this poor wretch goes hence and is no more 
 seen ! Suppose he be executed on Monday morning, and 
 the same afternoon the writer of the letter in question 
 should arrive, and uncontestably establish the truth of what 
 is contained in it?" 
 
 " Wiy, suppose he did, Mr Hylton ! Apply an unbiassed 
 mind to the case, as if you had yourself to administer justice. 
 Are you, by the way, a magistrate?" Mr Hylton bowed 
 acquiescence. ^' I am glad of it. Suppose the writer did 
 actually see one, or two, or any number of men, running 
 along the shore, as represented : how are they to be con- 
 nected with the bloody transaction in the wood ? — Is it not, 
 to begin with, by the way, separated from the shore by 
 cliffs?" 
 
NOW AND THEN. 191 
 
 " Yes, my Lord, but by no means by lofty cliffs ; persons 
 have been known to drop over without injury : there are 
 no rocks beneath. And who can say but that the persons 
 mentioned in this letter may have done the deed?" 
 
 The Lord Chief Justice shook his head ; but took up the 
 letter and read it again, with, as Mr Ilylton sanguinely 
 supposed, more thoughtfulness than his Lordship wished to 
 be visible to an observer. 
 
 '' Pardon me, my Lord," said he, ^' but there occurs to 
 me another way of putting the case. And while we thus 
 discuss it, how fast fly away this man's precious moments ! " 
 
 "I am perfectly and painfully aware of that^ reverend 
 sir," replied his Lordship, looking pointedly at Mr Hylton, 
 who felt the delicate rebuke, and bowed. 
 
 " I was going to say, my Lord: Suppose I had received 
 this letter, or the one to which it refers, before the Court 
 opened yesterday morning, and the prisoner's counsel had 
 applied to your Lordship to postpone the trial till the next 
 Assizes?" 
 
 " Sir, that is well worth considering, undoubtedly. You 
 put your points ably, Mr Hylton." 
 
 Again the Chief Justice took up the letter. " Is this in 
 Mrs Merton's own handwriting?" he inquired, apparently 
 carelessly. 
 
 '' I will swear to it, my Lord. And, by the way, for 
 aught I know, Mr Merton may by this time have brought, 
 or forwarded, the original letter to my house, and it may be 
 there awaiting me at this moment." 
 
 " Certainly, certainly ; that may be so," said the Chief 
 
192 NOW AND THEN. 
 
 Justice, musingly, but still discouraginglj. " Is this, how- 
 ever, the only matter which you are desirous of bringing- 
 before me?" he inquired. 
 
 " Oh no, my Lord : I have three others." 
 
 " I shall be very happy to hear them, sir. Pray proceed." 
 
 " What I now am about to mention, my Lord, is of a 
 confidential, and at present, I own, an unsatisfactory nature ; 
 but, if time be given, I am not hopeless of discovering 
 something highly important. Your Lordship recollects 
 observing at the trial, on the singularity of Lord Alkmond's 
 having gone out into the woods at such an hour of the night, 
 and when such festivities were going on at the Castle." 
 
 ^' Undoubtedly: it is indeed a curious circumstance, which 
 I should like to have had, if possible, explained. Did I 
 not ask some of the witnesses about it? " 
 
 " Yes, my Lord : Mr Oxley, Lord Milverstoke's agent. 
 Since the trial — but I repeat, my Lord, that I am at present 
 placed in circumstances of exquisite embarrassment, with 
 reference to this subject." The Lord Chief Justice looked 
 with great curiosity at Mr Hylton, on his saying this. " I 
 have some reason to believe, and that, too, from persons of 
 station, that Lord Alkmond's going into the wood was not 
 so wholly unaccountable as at present it appears, but was 
 connected with a circumstance or circumstances which may 
 possibly — I say possibly, my Lord — come to be, in due time, 
 fully disclosed ; and the person to whom I allude was in 
 communication, on the subject, with another person of 
 exalted station, at the moment of my quitting Milverstoke. 
 The issue I shall not know till I return ; but I have heard 
 
NOW AND THEN. 
 
 193 
 
 sufficient to excite lively anxiety and curiosity ; and pos- 
 sibly — but, my Lord, I repeat, only possibly — the result 
 may be suddenly to invest this dreadful transaction with 
 great mystery. My word, however, is pledged to take no 
 further steps at present, nor to indicate even the nature of 
 what I have heard, without the express permission of the 
 person to whom I have been alluding. I may, neverthe- 
 less, tell your Lordship that I am acting on information sent 
 to me with great anxiety, in consequence of a gentleman 
 being present at the trial, who, on his return home, com- 
 municated to a friend that which had fallen from your 
 Lordship, and led him to use his utmost exertions to bring 
 this matter to my notice immediately. Thi-ice had a 
 mounted messenger from him been sent to my house be- 
 tween the close of the trial and my return to Milverstoke ; 
 and I met the last messenger, and followed him back, while 
 yet on my way home. It is a scruple of extreme delicacy 
 alone that suddenly prevented this gentleman's at once 
 communicating to me what he knew." 
 
 To all this the Chief Justice listened with profomid atten- 
 tion. " I am sure, Mr Hylton," said he, gravely, *^ that a 
 gentleman of your superior capacity, to say nothing of 
 your position as a clergyman and magistrate, is aware of 
 the responsibility attaching to any thing said by you to me 
 on such an occasion as this, and that you cannot be uncon- 
 sciously yielding eagerly to first impressions, and misty 
 conjectures?" 
 
 "My Lord, I speak most advisedly, in my conscience 
 believing it possible — and at present I put it no higher — . 
 
 
 
194 NOW AND THEN. 
 
 that there may be something in the background fully war- 
 ranting the step which I am taking. I do not feel myself 
 at liberty, speaking for a moment as a man of even mere 
 worldly honour, to mention who is the person of whom I am 
 speaking, or what his station in society. Nay, my Lord, I 
 now recollect what I feel bound to mention, that he 
 expressed his OAvn belief that the matter would prove not 
 to be connected with that in question ; but he had previously 
 said enough to make me take a very, very different view of 
 the affair. 
 
 " And you assure me that the matter is at this moment 
 in a train of inquiry ?" 
 
 " Undoubtedly, undoubtedly, my Lord." 
 
 ^' Very well, Mr Hylton : all this is curious at least. 
 What next?" 
 
 " Why, my Lord, I have, I think, discovered facts tend- 
 ing to impeach the perfect trustworthiness of Mr Oxley as 
 a witness." 
 
 " I doubt whether that gentleman's evidence really touches 
 the merits of the question, one way or the other." 
 
 " But the Solicitor-General, my Lord, on the part of the 
 Crown, pointedly mentioned that evidence to the jury ; and 
 aftenvards proved it, as giving a peculiarly malignant com- 
 plexion to the case." 
 
 " He did, sir, certainly. Well, Mr Hylton, and what of 
 that matter ? " 
 
 " Why, the way that it strikes me, my Lord, is that Mr 
 Solicitor-General may be supposed to have himself felt the 
 importance of establishing a motive on the part of the 
 
NOW AND THEN. 195 
 
 prisoner for perpetrcating so enormous and seemingly unac- 
 countable a crime, as slaying the eldest son and heir of a 
 very eminent peer of the realm. However this may be, 
 my Lord, what prejudice may it not have worked against 
 the unfortunate prisoner, turning the minds of his jury away 
 from a dispassionate examination of the case?" 
 
 " Mr Hylton, do not lay too much stress on such topics. 
 Look at the undisputed facts — the bloody reality, if I may so 
 speak, of this dreadful case, standing even solely on the 
 prisoner's own voluntary statement : the bloody sleeve — 
 the bloody club — and the affrighted flight from the corpse 
 of the murdered man ! Let us bring our common sense to 
 bear on these few, but terrible, facts of the case ; and then 
 how unimportant become the topics which you seem about 
 to urge, Mr Hylton ! Pray, however, proceed." 
 
 ^' Shortly, then, my Lord, do you remember how 
 indignantly the prisoner repudiated the words put into his 
 mouth before the magistrate who convicted him for having 
 possession of the hare ?" 
 
 '^ I do perfectly, and was struck with it, sir." 
 
 " And your Lordship may recollect his counsel proposing 
 another form of expression, which was in consequence of a 
 written suggestion sent him in Court ? I, my Lord, sent 
 that paper ; I proposed that question ; for the magistrate 
 (who also committed him on the charge for murder) had on 
 the day of that committal told me the words which he had 
 heard the prisoner utter ; and I have with me Sir Henry 
 Harrington's own signed statement (here Mr Hylton 
 produced it) made yesterday evenmg after the trial, 
 
196 NQ^ j^^jy THEN. 
 
 attesting the words to have been most dlsthictly heard by 
 him, and to be — ' He shall smart for it, that brought me 
 here ;' and Sir Henry observed the prisoner glance fimously 
 at the man who had so cruelly and perfidiously used him." 
 
 Mr Hylton paused ; so did the Chief Justice, presently 
 observing — " Well, Mr Hylton, does all this carry your case 
 really one hair's-breadth further ? Suppose the prisoner went 
 into the wood to kill or feloniously assault his enemy, and 
 by mistake killed the other ? Have you not admitted that 
 to be murder?" 
 
 " Forgive me, my Lord, if I press these points too far," 
 said Mr Hylton, with sudden emotion, " but the interests of 
 humanity impel me — I have a poor manacled and fettered 
 figure perpetually before my eye" — 
 
 " God forbid, Mr Hylton," said the Chief Justice, solemnly 
 and kindly, laying his hand on that of Mr Hylton, " that 
 you should suppose it necessary to apologise for any thing 
 that you have said here. I wish you knew how greatly I 
 am touched by your noble and disinterested exertions, which 
 my heart is all the while most zealously seconding; but 
 God hath given me the scales of Justice to hold, and my 
 reason must not be disturbed by my feelings. Proceed, dear 
 sir, and say all that occurs to you, even though you stay till 
 midnight." 
 
 How mildly and kindly was this said ! Yet the words 
 rapidly froze the Chief Justice into a pillar of ice, as it were, 
 before Mr Hylton's eyes ; and for a Httle while he paused 
 to overcome his emotions. 
 
 ^' I feel, my Lord, getting weak and exhausted in this 
 
NOW AND THEN. 197 
 
 mortal wrestle wltli your Lordship, on so awful an occasion. 
 It is what I am not used to ; and I must soon cease." He 
 seemed, for a moment, at a loss. 
 
 " You were speaking," said the Chief Justice, very kindly, 
 " of j\Ir Oxley's perverted or mistaken representation of 
 what had fallen from the prisoner." 
 
 '' I thank your Lordship, and have only to say that Sir 
 Henry is ill in bed of the gout, or might have been at the 
 trial and contradicted Mr Oxley." 
 
 ^' Is this gentleman Mr Oxley supposed to bear any ill 
 feeling towards the prisoner ?" 
 
 ^' That, my Lord, is the last topic which I was going to 
 urge. The prisoner and his father (of whom, with your 
 Lordship's permission, I shall say a word presently) have 
 been persecuted beyond all bearing — so they both tell me, 
 and I believe them implicitly — by Mr Oxley, who wants, 
 as they say, to get them out of a small freehold cottage of 
 the father's, in order that a new and more direct approach 
 may be made from the high road to Milverstoke Castle. 
 Mr Oxley has, doubtless, exceeded his instructions, and 
 what he has done is probably all unknown to Lord Milver- 
 stoke ; but Mr Oxley's conduct has been unfeeling and 
 insulting in the extreme, to these poor people, who are in 
 great distress ; and not long before last Christmas, with a 
 bitter sneer, Mr Oxley predicted that the father would pro- 
 bably soon find himself in a much larger house — the work- 
 house." 
 
 "The brutal fellow!" exclaimed the Chief Justice, in- 
 dignantly. 
 
198 NOW AND TIIEX. 
 
 '' On this, my Lord, the son, who was present — the 
 prisoner, and who is a man of giant strength, rose from his 
 stool, grasped Mr Oxley by the collar, and flmig him several 
 yards through the door, like a rotten faggot." The Chief 
 Justice listened with an earnest air, but in silence. " On 
 that occasion, my Lord, the father heard Mr Oxley mutter 
 some sinister expressions to this effect — ' I owe thee a turn 
 for this.'" 
 
 " I think it very possible that he did say so ; but, was it 
 Mr Oxley who brought the prisoner to the bleeding body 
 of Lord Alkmond, made him iim away as for life, with a 
 bloody club, and then own it all, in open Court ? Oh, Mr 
 Ilylton!" 
 
 " A word more, my Lord," said he, in a desponding tone, 
 after both of them had been silent for some moments, during 
 which the Chief Justice's eyes were fixed on the fire, his 
 face indicatmg that he was in deep thought — " only one 
 word more, and my melancholy mission is closed. I have 
 known the prisoner and his father for upwards of twenty 
 years ; and do assure your Lordship that the old man I 
 have ever regarded as a perfect pattern of Christian virtue 
 — as an Israelite in whom there is no guile — as one of the 
 patriarchs of old — I have seen him fearfully tried — in deep 
 affliction — rumed at last by his generosity to another : in 
 short, indeed, a second Job, my Lord!" Here Mr Hylton 
 suddenly stopped, for his voice failed him. The Chief 
 Justice rose from his seat, and, as if to avoid seeing Mr 
 Hylton's emotion, slowly walked away ; really, however, 
 to conceal his own feelings ; but soon he returned. 
 
NOW AND THEN. 109 
 
 " Tliou excellent person ! Thou servant of God ! Thou 
 true Samaritan !" said he, greatly moved, and taking Mr 
 Hylton by the hand, " to my dying day I cannot forget 
 thee. I saw thee kneeling beside that old man ! When I 
 am at my last end, would that so thou, or one as holy, 
 might kneel beside me /" 
 
 ''May God bless your Lordship, living and dying!" 
 faltered Mr Hylton ; and it was not for several moments 
 that either recovered his self-possession. 
 
 " Let us now return to this sad business," said, at length, 
 the Chief Justice, mildly, and very gravely. " Have you 
 any thing further to urge ?" 
 
 " Only that this poor soul, the prisoner, so far from being 
 of the barbarous nature which could suffer him to do this 
 cowardly deed of blood, is, and has been ever, beloved by 
 young and old, who know him as one of generous heart ; 
 has more than once perilled his life for others; and has 
 never done otherwise than as became a son trained by such a 
 father as his, until sharp misery, and despairing love for his 
 sick wife, led him to listen to the voice of the tempter in 
 that matter of the hare ! And finally, my Lord, yesterday, 
 immediately after he had his irons put on, and was placed 
 in the condemned cell, I was with him ; and, by all his 
 hopes of Heaven, he solemnly asseverated his total inno- 
 cence, and his absolute ignorance of the person who did, 
 or the manner in which was done, this horrible murder ; 
 and that, too, when I had, to the best of my power, taught 
 him that he had looked his last on life— that hereafter 
 was close upon him. And, my Lord, by my own hopes. 
 
200 NOW AND THEN. 
 
 and in the presence of Him whom I serve, I verily believe, 
 notwithstanding all appearances, that this man is innocent, 
 or I should not have been this day with your Lordship, in 
 whose just hands," said Mr Hylton, with a sigh, " I now 
 leave the matter." 
 
 ^' It is one, Mr Hylton, of some difficulty, and requires a 
 consideration," said the Chief Justice ; "which must be, as 
 far as possible, perfectly dispassionate, and as deliberate as 
 the urgency of the case will admit of. I shall read over 
 my notes of the evidence with care, and give my best atten- 
 tion to all that you have so discreetly, and so eloquently, 
 urged upon me this evenmg. You must, if you please, 
 leave with me that letter which you received from Mrs 
 Morton ; and, if you feel disposed to retmii hither in two 
 hom-s' time, you shall know my decision." 
 
 Seeing by his countenance and manner, that the Chief 
 Justice desired to be immediately left alone, Mr Hylton 
 withdi'ew, his Lordship bidding him good evening, cordially, 
 but so very gravely, that he thereby unconsciously shot 
 dismay into the soul of Mr Hylton. As the latter quitted 
 the library, the butler approached, bringing him his hat and 
 stick, with great respect, and in silence; and the next 
 moment he was alone in the open air — determming to pace 
 the gloomy square in which the Chief Justice's house was 
 situated, or the immediate neighbourhood, till the two hours 
 should have expired. How anxiously, as he walked about, did 
 he revolve in his mmd all that had taken place ! whether he 
 had omitted any thing, or urged anything ineffectually ! Also 
 he pondered the whole demeanour of the grave and discreet 
 
NOW AND THEN. 201 
 
 Chief Justice ; his significant speech, his significant silence ; 
 how his practised judicial mind would be likely to view the 
 case ; and then good Mr Hylton thought within himself 
 how he would decide the case, were it in his hands. At 
 length, after having pulled out his watch more than twenty 
 times, and waited for at least three minutes beyond the 
 appomted two hours, Mr Hylton presented himself again at 
 the Chief Justice's door; another person mounting the 
 steps at the same time, and whose face Mr Hylton imagined 
 that he had seen somewhere before. This was, in fact, the 
 Chief Justice's" head clerk, who had been shortly before 
 summoned to attend his Lordship immediately. When the 
 door was opened, this gentleman went at once to the library, 
 and, having knocked, was admitted ; while Mr Hylton was 
 shown into a large empty dining-room adjoining. Presently 
 he heard the library-door opened ; steps across the hall ; 
 then the street-door opened and closed ; and then he, too, 
 was shown into the Hbrary, where sat the Chief Justice, 
 looking somewhat fatigued, and in the act of returning his 
 watch into its place. 
 
 " Well, Mr Hylton," said his Lordship, calmly, " after 
 much consideration of all the facts of the case, in all their 
 bearings, as far as I could, I have felt myself at liberty to 
 order a temporary — a brief — respite for the prisoner" — 
 
 ''God bless your Lordship! God be thanked!" com- 
 menced Mr Hylton excitedly ; but was promptly checked, 
 for the Chief Justice elevated his finger, and slowly shook 
 his head in a serious and admonitory manner. 
 
 " I have thought it right, after your strenuous and advised 
 
202 NOW AXD THEX. 
 
 representations, to afford a little time for further inquiry ; 
 but am bound to tell you, that I feel the reverse of being 
 sanguine as to the ultimate issue. The more I consider it, 
 the blacker seems the case against the prisoner, as it was 
 proved at the trial before me and the pubhc ; but God for- 
 bid that, when human life is at stake, the faintest chance 
 of saving it, and preventing the dismal spectacle of an 
 innocent man's life being taken from him through a mistake 
 of the law, should be thrown away. All your energies 
 must from this moment be exerted to establish facts tending 
 to raise a very strong presumption, against fearfully strong 
 appearances. For this pm-pose I have granted a delay of 
 a fortnight, that all necessary inquiries may be set on foot, 
 especially with regard to the letter spoken of in that which 
 you left with me : and you will have the goodness, by the 
 way, at the earliest moment that is practicable, to forward 
 to me that other letter. It is right to intimate to you that, 
 should you be so fortunate in your exertions, as, on a proper 
 representation to the Earl of Milverstoke, to prevail on his 
 Lordship to concur in recommending the prisoner to the 
 merciful consideration of the Crown, expressing a doubt as 
 to the guilt of the prisoner, it might be attended with an 
 important and beneficial effect, as coming from so dis- 
 tinguished and deeply injm-ed a prosecutor." To this 
 suggestion Mr Hylton listened in silent despair. " What 
 use is to be made by the prisoner of this brief extension of 
 his earthly career, none knows better, reverend sir, than 
 yourself, and I presume not to say a word on that subject. 
 Humanity plainly dictates one thing — the steadfast depres- 
 
NOW AND THEN. 203 
 
 sion of tlie prisoner's hopes to tlie lowest point possible, 
 lest the result of your charitable interference should have 
 been only to inflict twice on him the pangs of death. 
 Good-by, Mr Hylton, good-by ; God speed your efforts, 
 and if the prisoner be mnocent, may your exertions to 
 prove it succeed." 
 
 " But the respite, my Lord — I beg your Lordship's par- 
 don — but Monday morning is awfully near us ; when will 
 your Lordship order" — 
 
 " Your anxiety, sir, is only natural, but you may safely 
 leave that matter in my hands," said the Chief Justice. '' It 
 has been already seen to : the respite you may regard as 
 already on its way : it will be forwarded, for your consola- 
 tion I may tell you, by two separate Government mes- 
 sengers, and reach the gaol, at the latest, to-morrow 
 afternoon." 
 
 Mr Hylton saw plainly that the matter might not be 
 pressed further ; but what would he not have given to be 
 permitted, if practicable, to accompany one of the bearers 
 of the precious little documents, which some ten minutes 
 before had been signed in duplicate by the Chief Justice, 
 directing execution upon Adam Ayliffe not to be done until 
 the Monday fortnight from the date of that order of the 
 Chief Justice ! So, with a heart beating gratitude to that 
 merciful and considerate judge, Mr Hylton respectfully took 
 leave, and walked with buoyant spirits and quick steps to 
 his inn, thinking to return by that night's coach, but which 
 he found, to his concern, had left upwards of two hours 
 before : Mr Hylton having supposed that it would quit 
 
204 
 
 NOW AND THEN. 
 
 London at tlic same hour as it passed through Milverstoke ; 
 a mistake which he would soon have found out, but for 
 his being so completely absorbed in the pressing and all- 
 important affaii' which had brought him up to London. 
 Unless he had taken a post-chaise all the way, which no 
 adequate necessity justified him under the circumstances in 
 doing, and for which, indeed, he had not by him the 
 requisite funds, nor knew where to obtain them at a 
 moment's notice in London, he could not reach the county 
 tomi in which at that moment lay the miserable object of 
 his solicitude, before seven o'clock in the evening, by an 
 early morning coach, which did not start from the inn at 
 which he was staying, but from another, m a different part 
 of the town. On reaching his inn, he went straight to bed, 
 quite overpowered with long want of rest, travelhng, and 
 mental exhaustion; but directed himself to be called at 
 half-past three o'clock without fail, that he might be in time 
 for the early coach which left at half-past four o'clock. 
 The moment, however, that he got into bed, he sunk Into 
 the black abyss of forgetfulness, — into sleep unbroken and 
 profound : and when he awoke, scarcely knew where he 
 w^as ; the place around him was quite strange ; the sun 
 shone brightly : and for several minutes he seemed strug- 
 gling out of some wild and gloomy dream. A guard's hora 
 peaHng in the coach-yard beneath him, however, effectually 
 recalled his scattered faculties : and forth he spinmg from 
 his bed in consternation. It was nearly nine o'clock, and 
 the coach by which he had hoped to start, was then some 
 forty miles on its way towards Milverstoke ! He rang his 
 
NOW AND THEN. 
 
 205 
 
 bell hurriedly ; and all he could learn from the Boots was, 
 that he had knocked till he was tired, and had even come 
 mto the room and spoken to Mr Hylton, who ansAvered him, 
 but must have fallen asleep again. There was no help for it. 
 He was not a man to curse, in a dilemma such as this, himself 
 and every body and every thing about him. A misfortune 
 had occurred, which appeared to have been inevitable: 
 and in reahty no one soever was to blame. He had 
 nothing for it now, but to secure a place by a coach startmg 
 at seven o'clock that evening: and having done so, he 
 betook himself to the nearest church, and attended the 
 service there ; and again at Westminster Abbey in the 
 afternoon : feeling, during the day, no little misgiving 
 concerning the duty at his own church, and whether, alas, 
 there should have been no one found, at such short notice, 
 to do it all. As he went to the Abbey, and also as he came 
 away after the service, he called at the Secretary of State's 
 office ; but all there was silent, and apparently deserted ; 
 the sentry gravely telling him that no one attended there 
 on Sundays. But it occurred to Mr Hylton nevertheless to 
 knock and inquire ; and it was very fortunate that he did 
 so ; for he found that no less a personage than an Under 
 Secretary, and several clerks, were there, engaged on 
 important business connected with apprehended disturbances 
 in the North. With no little difficulty Mr Hylton obtained 
 access to one of the chief clerks ; and from him learnt that 
 a communication had been received overnight from the 
 Chief Justice, of his having ordered a fortnight's respite to 
 Adam Ayhffe, under sentence of death for the murder of 
 
206 NOW AND THEN. 
 
 Lord Alkmond ; that two duplicate orders to that effect had 
 been forthwith despatched by special messengers, wdio 
 "would deliver them, during the ensuing afternooUj into the 
 hand of the proper authorities. 
 
 " But forgive my anxiety in a matter m which I have 
 taken a deep interest," said Mr Hylton : " Suppose the 
 messengers should happen to miscany ?" 
 
 "It may, of course, be the worse for the prisoner," replied 
 the clerk somewhat impatiently : " but suppose the sky 
 w^ere to fall — you know the saying, sir. A special 
 messenger miscarry, sir ! Was ever such a thing heard of ? " 
 
 With such consolation as could be derived from this 
 somewhat irritable official, who was not overpleased at his 
 extra day's work at the Office, Mr Hylton departed, without 
 having asked several other questions which had occurred to 
 him, concerning the aid of goverament in the inquiries w^hich 
 w^ere to be set on foot, as suggested by the Lord Chief 
 Justice. 
 
NOW AND THEN. 20*; 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 At seven o'clock, precisely, Mr Hylton took his place 
 on the coach, which in due course would bring him to the 
 county town where AylifFe lay awaiting a fate only, by 
 extraordinary exertions on the part of Mr Hylton, postponed 
 for a few fleeting days ; and he purposed sending on his 
 portmanteau to the inn at Milverstoke, himself staying 
 behind to have an interview at the gaol with poor Ayliffe, 
 and possibly his father. As he travelled along, he 
 calmly reviewed the occurrences of the last few days, and 
 agitating and alarming as they were, thought that streaks of 
 light were really beginning faintly to glisten in the murky 
 horizon, and felt devout thankfulness at the prospect of his 
 being permitted to be an humble instrument in the hands of 
 Providence, of rescuing an innocent man from an ignomi- 
 nious death. What, he began to inquire, would be the effect 
 of this respite on the mind and heart of Ayliffe ? As they 
 drew near the county town, about ten o'clock in the 
 morning, he pictured to himself the dismal scene which might, 
 but for his exertions, have met their eyes that morning 
 in passing the gaol . As they rolled rapidly onward, he was 
 struck with the numerous foot-passangers whom they met 
 
208 NOW AND THEN. 
 
 and in increasing numbers ; and at length — how shall it be 
 written ? — he almost fell from his seat ; for he heard the 
 voice of a person who held a long printed paper in his hand 
 shouting — 
 
 " Why, sir — Parson Hylton — sir " — said the coachman, 
 drawing up hurriedly for a moment, "sir, how's this? — 
 They're crying Adam Ayliffe's last dying speech, and full 
 confession of the murder of Lord Alkmond ! " 
 
 And sure enough, the man near them announced '' the 
 last dying speech and confession of Adam Ayliife, who was 
 hanged this morning for the murder of — " 
 
 " Let me get down," said Mr Hylton, faintly, turning 
 deadly pale : " Am I dreaming ? What inscimtable dispen- 
 sation of Providence is this? Have, then, both the special 
 messengers miscamed, after all ? or has Lord Famborough 
 thought fit to overrule the Chief Justice ? Oh, horror ! " 
 thought he — and all this with lightning rapidity. He stag- 
 gered towards the man who had the papers, eagerly snatched 
 one of them out of his hand, and found that there was no 
 name of Adam Ayliffe whatever in them. Nor had the 
 crier deliberately falsified the contents of his gloomy docu- 
 ments; but having obtained a number of them to dispose of, 
 and not having heard of the respite which had amved for 
 the great criminal, whose expected execution was the talk 
 of the county, had taken it for granted that he had suffered 
 in due course ; the fact being, that there really had been an 
 execution that morning at the gaol, but only of the two men 
 convicted at the beginning of the A ssizes, for stealing the 
 pair of shoes at the fair, and the cheese from the dairy. Poor 
 
NOW AND THEN. 209 
 
 souls, they liad died, it seemed, with great penitence, acknow- 
 ledging, if not the lenity of the laws, the justice of the 
 sentence under which they suffered ; for, indeed, how could 
 they do otherwise, when the cheese and the shoes had been 
 found in their actual possession ? Their last moments had 
 been, however, a little disturbed at the sudden, and, as it 
 seemed to them, unjust escape of their expected fellow-suf- 
 ferer, the murderer ; a complaint, as Mr Hylton afterwards 
 learnt from the chaplain, which w^as one of the very latest 
 among the words spoken by them on earth. The gallows, 
 having performed its deadly office, was being taken down, 
 as Mr Hylton, with averted eyes and a sickened heart, made 
 his way to the gaol through the remains of a far greater 
 crowd than would have been drawn together to witness the 
 exit of the two poor thieves. In answ^er to his hurried 
 inquiry, how Ayliffe had borne the temporary postponement 
 of his sentence, the turnkey to whom he spoke, infomied 
 him that the man was pretty well considering, but that there 
 had been a great stir w^hen the news came. Mr Hylton was 
 immediately introduced to the chaplain in the governor's 
 room, and found, to his consolation, that the considerate 
 Chief Justice had caused the respite to be accompanied by 
 an injunction to the authorities to warn the prisoner, that 
 the only use which he ought to make of the few days longer 
 allowed to him on earth, should be to prepare the better for 
 hereafter. No intimation had reached the prison of the 
 grounds on which the respite had been obtained ; and Mr 
 Hylton abstained from satisfying the curiosity or anxiety 
 of even the chaplain and governor. With equal discretion, 
 
 P 
 
210 NOW AND THEN. 
 
 he left the prison without having had any interview with 
 AyUffe, in order to be spared useless pam, and avoid questions 
 causing an agonising embarrassment. The chaplain had 
 been intrusted with the critical task of communicating to 
 AylifFe the unexpected result of Mr Hylton's unknown 
 exertions on his behalf ; the intelligence arriving only a few 
 hours after Ayliffe, and the two other capital convicts, had 
 partaken of the sacrament. He bore the agitating com- 
 munication in total silence, but shortly afterwards became 
 wildly excited ; in spite of all the earnest cautions of the 
 chaplain, expressing his conviction that, by some providen- 
 tial means, his innocence had been discovered and his life 
 spared ; and it was not till after he had become calmer, that 
 the official document was shown him, by which his wretched 
 life was extended for one fortnight longer, and onefortniglit 
 only. Shortly afterwards he became very desponding : and 
 when his father was admitted to him, wept bitterly, and 
 lamented that his troubles^were prolonged, and that his peace 
 of mind was endangered. The old man himself had been 
 tenderly and discreetly dealt with, on being told of the respite, 
 by the chaplain ; who had already conceived a great respect 
 for him, infinitely heightened by the firmness and composure 
 with which he received the intelligence, and conducted him- 
 self towards his son. With what tempered sternness and 
 affection did he enforce the teaching of the chaplain, and 
 depress the wild and unwarrantable hopes of him who still 
 hung suspended over the grave, as it were, by only one 
 single hair of his head ! 
 
 Serious and anxious was the frame of mind with which 
 
NOW AND THEN. 211 
 
 Mr Hylton now rode on to Milverstoke. He felt the fear- 
 ful responsibility which his energetic humanity had entailed 
 upon him, lest he should have really, in the pregnant 
 language of the Chief Justice, done no more than twice 
 inflict the pangs of death on the convict, and awfully perilled 
 his religious condition. He also thought with momentary 
 trepidation of the Earl of Milverstoke, and the effect upon 
 him which the intelligence of the respite might have had ; 
 especially when he should have heard through whose agency 
 it had been brought about ; and, moreover, the result of 
 Captain Lutteridge's interview with the Earl, Mr Hylton 
 had yet to learn. On that score, however, his uncertainty, 
 at all events, might soon be relieved, for his way lay witliin 
 half a mile of the barracks ; to which, accordingly, on ar- 
 riving at the road leading up to them, he directed his horse's 
 head, and rode at a quickened pace. On entering the room 
 in which his interview with the Captain had taken place, that 
 officer quickly made his appearance, in full uniform, his men 
 being drawn up, ready for drill, on the ground opposite to 
 the window ; and his manner seemed to Mr Hylton cold 
 and constrained. 
 
 ''Look you, reverend sir," said Captain Lutteridge, 
 closing the mess-room door after him, "I was as good as 
 my word; went straight to my Lord Milverstoke; and sorry 
 I am that I thought of going. It has done you no service, 
 sir, and I have greatly angered (about which I care not) 
 and grieved my Lord Milverstoke, for which I do care, 
 greatly." 
 
 "I deeply regret to hear it," replied Mr Hylton ; "but 
 
212 XO^Y AND THEN. 
 
 peraiit me to ask what was the result of your mtervlew ? 
 Ai'e you at liberty to tell me w^hat you went to inquire 
 about?" 
 
 "Noj sir," answered Captain Lutteridge, peremptorily. 
 
 ^'jSTo!" echoed Mr Hylton, with a dismayed air, 
 
 ^'Xot one w^ord, sir !" 
 
 Mr Hylton felt distressed and confoimded. Here had 
 broken down, suddenly and altogether, one of the props on 
 which rested the precious but precarious fabric of his hopes 
 for AyliiFe. A miserable beginnmg was this of his fort- 
 night's exertions ! 
 
 "Perhaps, Captain Lutteridge, you have heard of the re- 
 spite for a few days, which I have succeeded in obtaming ?" 
 
 "Yes, sir, last night." 
 
 " I trust that you heard with some satisfaction the news 
 that a fellow-creature may be spared from suffering unjustly 
 an ignominious death?" 
 
 " Su-, I say I heard it, and I wish nobody to die 
 unjustly; but how he can die unjustly, whom the law hath 
 ordered to die, I know not. If this man be hanged when 
 his respite is over, doubtless it tn^II be all right, bemg 
 according to law. Had I been he, I would rather have 
 had it all over at once, being so near it ; now he will die 
 every day till it is over." His words smote the heart 
 of his listener. " For this reason, sir, when a court- 
 martial orders sentence of death, we carry it into effect 
 quickly — the thing is over, forgotten, and the men return 
 to duty." 
 
 " But suppose the man shot were not really guilty?" 
 
NOW AND THEN. 213 
 
 " That," said the Captahi, drily, "never occuiTed in my 
 time." 
 
 Mr Hylton sighed : he saw that it was useless to reason 
 with the impracticable soldier, who, moreover, glanced 
 once or twice at his men through the window, as though 
 he wished to mount his horse immediately. 
 
 " Pardon me. Captain, as I fear I detain you ; but this 
 wretched person's life seems now, in a manner, dependent 
 on my exertions ! " 
 
 " Yes, sir, as doubtless you must have well considered 
 beforehand. But, by the way," added the Captain, sud- 
 denly, " on what grounds did you get the respite, sir ? Of 
 course you said nothing of the matter on which we spoke 
 here, sir?" 
 
 '' Captain Lutteridge," said Mr Hylton, with dignity, 
 " I am a gentlemen, as are you ; and though a Christian 
 minister, struggling on behalf of one condemned unjustly, as 
 I verily believe, to death, I could not break my promise, 
 though, I own, with a conscience grievously disquieting me 
 at the time, as it has also done ever since." 
 
 " I hope quite unnecessarily," said the Captain, with a 
 quaintly-confident air. 
 
 " But imderstand me, sir, when I say this : I must tell 
 you, in candour, but in perfect truth and honour, that, to 
 some extent, I made use of the fact that — " 
 
 " Hollo! How, sir? — how's that, sir?" uiterrupted the 
 Captain, his whole face becoming suddenly flushed. 
 
 ^' Hear me. Captain Lutteiidge," said Mr Hylton, calmly: 
 " hear what passed between the Lord Cliief Justice and 
 
214 NOW AND THEN. 
 
 myself. I placed my application to him on fom' distinct 
 grounds ; and one of them certainly related to what had 
 passed between us — " 
 
 " The d it did ! — I beg your pardon, sir, but, by 
 
 ! I can't help it, sir, though you're a parson ; but — " 
 
 burst out the Captain, who seemed as if he were going into 
 a frenzy. 
 
 "I say, sir," continued Mr Hylton, eyeing him with stern 
 steadfastness, — " that one of those four things related to what 
 had passed between us : only glancing however, at it. " 
 
 ^'Go on, sir ! Go on, sir ! — If you please, that is," said 
 the Captain, with ill-suppressed vehemence. 
 
 ^'I will, sir, if you interrupt me not;" said Mr Hylton, 
 thoroughly roused, and speaking with a deliberate determi- 
 nation which instantly arrested the Captain's impetuosity ; 
 but he walked to and fro hastily, his boots clattering, per- 
 haps, a very trifle more than they needed to have done. 
 ^' I told the Judge that some one in court had heard him 
 inquire whether any one could say why Lord Alkmond had 
 quitted the Castle at so late an hour of the night ; had 
 afterwards communicated with a person, who thought it 
 possible, and only possible, that he might be able to throw 
 some light on the matter, but must first obtain the permis- 
 sion of some one else : was attempting to do so when I 
 quitted Milverstoke ; and that, till I received express per- 
 mission, I could say no more on the business. I also said 
 that the person who had spoken to me had expressed his 
 opinion that the conversation would prove to have no 
 bearing on the case." 
 
NOW AND THEN. 215 
 
 ''Yes, yes, I did say that — I did, I recollect ; but, excuse 
 me, reverend sir," he added, with a somewhat puzzled air ; 
 "I did not quite understand all that went before ; 'twas too 
 long : I ask the favour of you to repeat it, sir." 
 
 Mr Ilylton deliberately repeated what he had said, 
 adding, "but I never made the slightest mention of Lord 
 Milverstoke, nor you, sir, nor of any one about you ; nor 
 spoke of any officer being concerned ; nor of this place ; 
 nor of Milverstoke Castle." 
 
 •'Well, sir," said the Captain, apparently relieved, yet 
 evidently not perfectly satisfied, "I suppose that ^Aa^ would 
 not give the Lord Chief Justice any inkling, eh ? These 
 great lawyers can find out so much more in every thing 
 than we can. — Eh ? how is it, really, sir ?" 
 
 "You know, Captain Lutteridge, now, as much as I do ; 
 and let me add that, in my opinion, this did not form one 
 of the grounds upon which the Lord Chief Justice proceeded 
 in granting the respite ; but he went principally on another 
 very remarkable circumstance, freshly" — 
 
 " Egad ! so one of our men outside there told Lieu- 
 tenant Wylsden, this morning, that something strange had 
 tm-ned up. What is it, if it please you, reverend sir?" 
 inquired the Captain eagerly. 
 
 " Forgive me. Captain Lutteridge ; but at present it would 
 be premature," replied Mr Hylton, guessing that good Mrs 
 Hylton must have been talking a little on the subject, since 
 his departure. "I have yet to ask, did Lord Milverstoke 
 distinctly refuse to allow you to tell me that which you 
 went to ask his leave to do ? " 
 
216 NOW AND THEN. 
 
 " Sir, I have given jou an answer, and cannot go 
 further. I am not at liberty to do what you ask, and will 
 not." 
 
 *'Did his Lordship know of the matter, or did you first 
 tell him?" 
 
 " Sir, I shall — that is, sir, I can say nothing more than 
 that you get not one syllable on this matter from me : and 
 — harke'e, sir," he added very significantly, " I wish you 
 well out of asking my Lord Milverstoke yourself; but 
 my men, reverend sir, are waiting, and I bid you good 
 morning." 
 
 So ended this disheartening interview ; Mr Hylton re- 
 mounting his horse and quitting the barrack-yard, much more 
 depressed than he had entered it. He was about to turn 
 back, to inquire of Captain Lutteridge whether he had told 
 the Earl who had gone to London on the business of the 
 respite ; but hearing the Captain's loud voice giving the 
 word of command, he abstained, and continued his cheerless 
 exit. 
 
 As he neared the village, he overtook an Increasing 
 nmnber of persons, who appeared as if they had Avalked from 
 some distance. The faces of many of them he knew : they 
 saluted him as he quickly passed, with a dash of awe and 
 expectation in then- respectful obeisances. He quickened his 
 pace to escape from the gaze of eager scrutiny, and at length 
 increased his speed ; but that only added to the excitement 
 of those who beheld and were overtaken by him ; and by 
 the time that he had reached his own gateway, he was 
 almost hemmed in by a little crowd, which in a quarter of 
 
NOW AND THEN. 217 
 
 an hour's time had nearly doubled their numbers ; so that 
 he was forced to quit the room again, leaving Mrs Hylton 
 no little excited with what was going on ; and approaching 
 his gateway, he assured the crowd, who instantly uncovered 
 and became silent, that AylifFe had got a fortnight's, and 
 only a fortnight's respite, because of some little doubts 
 about his guilt ; and then Mr Hylton earnestly besought 
 them to go away immediately and peaceably; and was 
 obeyed within as short a time as could have been reason- 
 ably expected. 
 
 But what had been the first thing which occurred to him 
 on entering the parsonage ? — A letter lay on the table, 
 unopened, even by anxiously curious Mrs Hylton : it hav- 
 ing arrived only some half an hour before her husband's 
 return ; bearing a great black coroneted seal, and being 
 addressed to him in Lord Milverstoke's handwriting, with 
 that formidable name at full length, in the corner of the 
 letter. Mr Hylton, with forced calmness, opened it and 
 read as follows : — 
 
 " Castle, Monday, 8 o'clock, a. m. 
 
 " The Earl of Milverstoke requests" (the word originally 
 written was visibly '•''desires^'') "the attendance of Mr 
 Hylton at the Castle, as soon after his arrival from London 
 as possible." 
 
 Mr and Mrs Hylton looked at one another in silence for 
 a few moments, as soon as they had read this ominously 
 laconic summons, the significance of which they had been 
 
218 NOW AND THEN. 
 
 liumedlj discussing, at the moment of Mr Hylton's quitting 
 her, to dismiss the little crowd assembled before his door. 
 
 ^'I do not perfectly like the peremptory authoritative tone 
 of this note," said he to Mrs Hylton ; " but let us not be 
 quick at taking offence, when none may be intended. As 
 one of his Lordship's occasional chaplains, he has a right 
 to command my services ; but if he consider that, being his 
 chaplain, I have no right to endeavour to rescue one whom 
 I believe an innocent man from an infamous death, I will, 
 with God's blessing, prove my right, and disprove that which 
 he assumes." 
 
 "My dear Henry, you will have a terrible scene to 
 encounter, I see too plainly," said his wife, apprehensively. 
 
 " Painful, Mary — very, very painful it may be ; but 
 what is to terrify a man supported by a sense of duty, 
 exercising an unquestionable right, and that, too, in so 
 sacred a cause? My parishioner, Ayliffe, shall not die 
 wrongfully, if I can lift up a finger to prevent it, did I live 
 surrounded by forty Lords Milverstoke ? If he be one of the 
 great nobles of the earth, think, my Mary, of Him whose 
 servant I am ! — whose bidding I do — ay, and will do, 
 though hell itself should rise against me ! And in my 
 Master's name, the Loed of Lords and King of Kings, 
 will I encounter this proud Earl, and, it may be, humble 
 him into submission to the will of God, and make him yield 
 to the dictates of our better nature ! " Mrs Hylton flung 
 her arms round her husband with fond enthusiasm, and 
 sobbed. 
 
 " But, I must say, there are great allowances to be made 
 
NOW AND THEN. 219 
 
 for him," said slie presently. " What would be oin- feelings, 
 dearest Henry, if this loved one of ours — our only one — 
 were — " She suddenly stopped. 
 
 " Sweet soul !" exclaimed her father, looking tenderly 
 at the Httle girl, who was listening absorbedly to this 
 colloquy between her parents ; '' dear soul ! I should wish 
 to accompany thee to Heaven, however black and horrible 
 might be thy path thither ! And I Avould pray for grace to 
 forgive thy murderers ; and if I could not get that grace, then 
 wouldst thou, beloved one ! be an angel in Heaven, and I, 
 thy unhappy father, be for ever excluded. This my Master 
 hath taught me— this He hath most expressly told me ! 
 Come hither, my little Mary, and let me feel thy arms 
 about me, strengthening me in my religion ; for of such as 
 thou art, is the kingdom of Heaven !" 
 
 The child sprang into his open arms, and sobbed aloud ; 
 he folded her fondly to his breast, in silence; and Mrs 
 Hylton's tears fell fast. She gazed at her husband with 
 almost reverent love and admiration ; for, as he spoke, there 
 beamed upon his harassed features an expression that was 
 heavenly. For him she entertained no fears whatever; 
 she knew his utter devotion to his calling ; his lofty sense 
 of the greatness of his office ; his unwavering faith ; his 
 indomitable courage. She knew well, also, his discretion ; 
 his complete command of temper ; in short, the simplicity 
 and elevation of his whole character. That minister of God 
 was indeed a burning and a shining hght, which, placed on 
 an eminence, would have scattered far a blessed radiance ; 
 but a Wisdom unquestionable, and by him unquestioned, 
 
220 KOW AND THEN. 
 
 had placed him not on the mountain, but in the valley ; had 
 assigned him a remote and obscure station in the great 
 vineyard. But how noble the opportunity of doing good 
 that seemed now afforded him ! Already had he felt 
 stirring within him energies, the existence of which he had 
 not known, till they were thus miexpectedly called into 
 action ; and at the moment of his thus conversing with Mrs 
 Hylton, he experienced but one serious anxiety — lest the 
 Earl, fatally for his own final peace and happiness, should 
 be permitted to harden himself into hopeless inhumanity, 
 and, in the inscrutable wisdom of the great Orderer of all 
 events, succeed in intercepting the flow of mercy — nay, of 
 JUSTICE : and gloat over the sacrifice of one, as guilty, 
 whose innocence he himself would, however unconsciously, 
 have prevented from being vindicated. !Mr Hylton knew 
 the substantial nobleness of the Earl's character, with all 
 the faults which cast baleful shadows around it ; and those 
 faults were exactly such as might now be expected in full 
 operation and activity, — hideous serpents writhing around 
 a black pillar of pride. Alas ! blind and deadly anunosity 
 and revenge would now disguise themselves as retribution 
 and justice ! How were they to be unmasked ? 
 
 To Lord Milverstoke's significant summons, Mr Hylton 
 returned a courteous reply, which was carried back by one 
 of the Earl's servants, who had been sent a second time to 
 know whether Mr Hylton had returned from London. His 
 note simply excused its writer till the evening, at a named 
 hour, on the reasonable and tiiie plea of extreme fatigue 
 from having travelled all night, and also having some 
 
NOW AND THEN. 221 
 
 matters of importance to transact during the day, in con- 
 sequence of his sudden absence from home. Lord Milver- 
 stoke's, however, was not the only letter which had awaited 
 the arrival of Mr Hylton. It seemed that, during the 
 Saturday, Mr Merton, the husband of Mr Hylton's corre- 
 spondent, who, unknown to herself, had rendered him such 
 service with the Lord Chief Justice, having returned home 
 late on the Friday evening, and perceiving the possible 
 importance of the communication mentioned in Mrs Mer- 
 ton's note, resolved to set off with the letter itself, at an 
 early hour on the Saturday morning, to the parsonage at 
 Milverstoke. He had left the letter with Mrs Hylton, 
 finding the errand on which Mr Hylton had gone to Lon- 
 don, whom he heartily wished God-speed ; and, moreover, 
 relieved the good lady's anxieties concerning her husband's 
 duty on the morrow, by pledging himself either personally 
 to occupy the pulpit and reading-desk at Milverstoke church, 
 or provide some one who would ; which done, he returned 
 home ; and, it may be as well to say, that he proved able to 
 perform his promise. A crowded and very attentive con- 
 gregation heard both the morning and afternoon service ; 
 their prayers being desired " for one appointed to die, and 
 for others dangerously ill and greatly distressed in mind." 
 Most, if not all of those present, thought only of the con- 
 demned criminal, his sick wife, and troubled father ; but 
 others bethought themselves also of the Lady Alkmond, 
 lying dangerously ill, and piously included her in their 
 prayers. 
 
 Neither the Earl nor Lady Emily made their appearance 
 
222 KOW AND THEN. 
 
 at the cliurcli. — There had been a kmd of gloomy excite- 
 ment throughout the village and neighbourhood, during the 
 Saturday and Sunday ; rising high on its being discovered 
 that Mr Hylton had suddenly gone up to London on behalf 
 of AylifFe — being supposed to have had very sufficient 
 reasons for so doing. When, however, good Mrs Hylton, 
 in the fulness of her feeling heart, let out to Mrs Wigley, 
 the churchwarden's wife (who told it to her husband, and 
 he to the doctor and surveyor, and they to many others) 
 the purport of the mysterious letter from Mrs Merton, the 
 public feeling quickly rose to a pitch of painful intensity. 
 But when, above all, news came down from London on the 
 Sunday night, by the coach which had passed through the 
 county town, that a respite, or a reprieve, had actually 
 arrived, the feelings which it excited cannot be described. 
 In spite of black appearances, Ayliife's high character had 
 proved, for a long time, like a buckler agamst reproach and 
 suspicion, till the trial ; when the reported stern concurrence 
 of the Lord Chief Justice with the verdict of the jury, 
 staggered the strongest friend of the convicted. Now, 
 however, that a reprieve had arrived — which was believed 
 to have emanated directly from His Majesty, as a personal 
 act — the tide was entirely turned in Ayliife's favour, and 
 good Mr Hylton given credit for a very potent influence 
 over the will and pleasure of his sovereign. Hence the 
 excitement which had attended his return — an excitement 
 which would have manifested itself in a less subdued 
 manner, but for a consideration of the peculiar and painful 
 position of the Earl of Milverstoke. The following is an 
 
NOW AND THEN. 223 
 
 exact copy of the letter, tlie alleged existence of which had, 
 almost alone, wrung the respite from the hesitating Chief 
 Justice of England :— 
 
 Dunkirk, 15th March. 
 
 " Reverend Mr Merton, 
 
 " Being at this present here, sir, at which place a man of 
 which I had been shipmate in another coaster, of which I 
 am no longer on hoard, but in another vessel that I am mate 
 of, and the reason of this trouble to you, sir (which have 
 doubtless forgot Jack Jevons, whose mother you knew in 
 Midgecombe,) is my seeing the County Paper which he 
 show'd me on Sunday last, where is described the horrid 
 murder of Lord Alkmond by somebody caught, but, reve- 
 rend sir, perhaps others liad hands in it, as this may show 
 and my log-book too which I writ it in at the time, that is 
 that as our boat was romng back from the shore to the ship, 
 this last was about two miles off, in a line with Milverstoke 
 Castle (S.S.E.) on the exact same night of that murder, 
 and the man (his name is Jno. Harrup) heard gun-fire in 
 the wood once or twice near the Castle, and just then saw 
 one or (may be) two men running like for life along the 
 shore to the east, thinking them running away only from 
 sport, because catch'd in the woods, and poaching, Jno. 
 Harrup was only 4 or 5 hundred yards from the shore, 
 which I entered in my log all on that day and Harrup is 
 still here, only we are going up further than this before w^e 
 return, which will be very soon, and God send us good 
 trading in these quarters, and best respects (and hope of 
 
224 NOW AND THEN. 
 
 forgiving this trouble) from Rev. Sir, yrs' mo. dutifully ; and 
 to command ; (the name of this vessel is the Morning Star.) 
 J. Jevons. (Putting up in London at Wapping, at the 
 Commodore Anson.y 
 
 Addressed — '' The Eev. MrMerton, Rector of the Parish, 
 Midgecombe." 
 
 After perusing and re-perusing this quaint but, in Mr 
 Hylton's estimation, all-important document, the suspicion 
 hinted at by the Chief Justice, that it might be only some 
 cunning device to mislead justice, flickered with cruel fre- 
 quency around Mr Hylton's mmd. Yet there seemed an 
 authentic air about the letter ; and Mr Merton had assured 
 ]\rrs Hylton, that he distinctly recollected a young man 
 called Jack Jevons living at Midgecombe, about seven or 
 eight years before, but of whom he knew little except that 
 he was the son of a worthy widow (a parishioner of Mr 
 Merton's) since dead, and had run off to sea, to her great 
 displeasure ; but Mr Merton had never heard of any thing 
 to the disadvantage of Jevons ; and, since receiving the 
 letter, had, through inquiries made by one of his sen^ants, 
 heard that Jevons was really the mate of some coasting 
 vessel. However this might be, Mr Hylton's first business 
 was to make an exact transcript of this letter ; and then, in 
 performance of his promise, he enclosed the original to the 
 Lord Chief Justice, putting his packet with his own hand, 
 and m the presence of a witness, into the post-office. He 
 also sent by a special messenger a note addressed to Mr 
 Melcombe, an able and experienced attorney, in a neighbour- 
 
NOW AND THEN. 225 
 
 ing town, requesting his attendance at tlie parsonage, at an 
 early hour in the ensuing morning, on a matter of importance ; 
 which consisted, in fact, of the energetic prosecution of 
 inquiries concerning the writer of the above letter, and 
 whether or not he had returned to England, or if not, where 
 the ship might now be, and whether, and how, it could be 
 discovered. If Ayliffe's earthly salvation depended on the 
 issue of these inquiries, and within the time already limited, 
 how awfully precarious his fate ! 
 
 Having had some trifling repose during the afternoon, 
 and partaken of a spare dinner, Mr Hylton ordered his horse 
 to the door ; and having made another copy of the letter on 
 which so much depended, he carefully placed it in his pocket- 
 book, and set off, in a pious, firm, and solemn spirit, for 
 Milverstoke Castle, which he reached about seven o'clock. 
 As usual, when he went unattended, he turned oif into a 
 by-path which led, at a few hundi'ed yards' distance from 
 the Castle, towards the stables; and there dismounting, 
 gave his horse into the care of a groom, who, hastily trans- 
 ferring his charge to another, ran off at top speed in an 
 opposite direction, while Mr Hylton slowly made his way 
 back into the main path which led to the front of the Castle. 
 He walked thoughtfully along ; and on reaching the door 
 by which he usually entered, was spared the trouble of 
 announcing his arrival, by a servant who was stationed there 
 holding the door half open. He raised his finger towards 
 his lips, and then said in a low tone, " The Lady Emily, sir, 
 has given orders that when you arrived you should be con- 
 ducted into a chamber, for a short time, near her Ladyship's 
 
 Q 
 
226 NOW AND THEN. 
 
 apartments, where her Ladyship will speedily come to 
 you." 
 
 ^' Tell her Ladyship," said Mr Hylton, with some sm^prise, 
 " that I will await her arrival In any room she pleases, but 
 that I earnestly request her Ladyship to come quickly, for 
 I am here on business, doubtless of importance, with his 
 Lordship, and by appointment." 
 
 He had not sat down more than three or four minutes, 
 
 and was looking at his watch with fast increasing anxiety, 
 
 when the door was opened quickly but silently, and the 
 
 slight, but tall and graceful, figure of Lady Emily entered 
 
 and advanced to him, extending both her hands, which were 
 
 very cold as he clasped them, and her face was deadly pale. 
 
 " Dear Mr Hylton, I hear that my papa has sent for you. 
 
 "What Is it about? " she inquired with eager apprehension. 
 
 " I really hnow not, though I have a suspicion, dearest 
 
 Lady Emily ; his Lordship did not say, in his brief note, 
 
 why he wished to see me. Pray, did he expect me sooner ? " 
 
 She looked down for a moment, and after a hesitating 
 
 pause said, " I beheve he did, and was di'cadfuUy angry, I 
 
 hear, at your not coming earlier." 
 
 " Have you seen his Lordship to-day?" 
 " Only for a moment, early in the morning, — but he did 
 not see me; and 1 never recollect him looking so much 
 agitated. Do you know a Captain Plumrldge, or some such 
 name, a dragoon officer at the barracks ? He came here on 
 Friday night, very late, I am told. Dear Mr Hylton, what 
 did he come about?" said Lady Emily anxiously. 
 
 '' I cannot say that I do not know ; but he came of his 
 
NOW AND THEN. 227 
 
 own free will to ask his Lordship a question^ and I certainly 
 was aware that he was commg." 
 
 " Was it " — she trembled visibly — " was it to beg the life 
 of — you know — Mr Hylton — whom I mean?" continued 
 the agitated girl. 
 
 ''No, it was not, Lady Emily," replied Mr Hylton. 
 
 A sudden piercing glance of her lustrous eyes fell upon 
 him, with an expression which he could not at the moment 
 fully understand ; and she sighed for some moments in silence. 
 
 '' Dear Mr Hylton, you know how I love you, and would 
 believe you against all the world," said she, at length, seiz- 
 ing his hand with convulsive earnestness. ' " Do you think 
 this man ought not to die ? Do you think he is innocent?" 
 
 " Li the most solemn manner I assure you that, whether 
 I be right or wrong, I feel as certain of his innocence as 
 that the sun rose this morning ! " 
 
 Her bright eyes were fixed upon him with a mournful 
 intensity as he spoke, and her bosom heaved fast. 
 
 " Then," she said, in a tremulous whisper, " you will 
 NEVER get my papa to believe it ! No, not if you were an 
 angel out of heaven, coming down before his very eyes from 
 the clouds to tell him so !" 
 
 "Why, my dearest Lady Emily, why say you so?" 
 inquired Mr Hylton with great earnestness. 
 
 '' Oh, I hnow it ! " she replied, shaking her head : '' and I 
 am very, very unhappy after what you have just said ; and 
 so will somebody else be, when I tell her" — 
 
 '' Dear Lady Emily," said Mr Hylton, much moved, " I 
 know whom you mean ! And does she forgive" — 
 
228 NOW AND THEN. 
 
 ^' Yes, she does ! though she knows not whether he be 
 guilty or not of this horrid crime. She has prayed to God, 
 so have I ; and though he be guilty, we both forgive him, 
 and do not wish him to die. And if he be innocent ! Oh, 
 Mr Hylton ! Then to die ! And my jpapa to wish it ! " 
 
 The low thrilling voice in which she uttered these em- 
 phatic words produced an indescribable eflfect on Mr Hylton. 
 
 ^' You know what a dreadfid day we must have looked 
 forward to in this" — she shuddered — '' and when we heard 
 last night that it was not to occur" — 
 
 " My dear Lady Emily," whispered Mr Hylton, ^' I 
 have no time to explain details ; but I must tell you that, 
 since the trial, a fact has come to light tending strongly to 
 show some other hand engaged in this awful business than 
 that of poor AylifFe ! The finger of Providence seems to 
 have pointed out some traces, which with His blessing may 
 lead to" — 
 
 " Who is that ? who is that ?" inquired the terrified girl, 
 hastily nsing from her chair, and opening the door. 
 
 It was her maid, who hmTiedly whispered that she had 
 just heard that his Lordship had ordered horses to be got 
 ready to go instantly to the parsonage. 
 
 " I must leave you ; you must go to my papa directly ! " 
 said she, with a face full of alarm. 
 
 ^' I will, dear Lady Emily"— 
 
 ^' And oh, consider his feelings!" — her eyes filled sud- 
 denly with tears. 
 
 " I do ! I will ! my heart bleeds for him ! I fear he will 
 be exceedingly angry with me for what I have done." 
 
NOW AND THEN. 229 
 
 " I fear he will ! " sighed Lady Emily; " but — think of 
 us when you are with him ! and do not, for worlds — no, not 
 for worlds — let him know that I have been with you!" 
 Then she hastily took from her bosom a small black-edged 
 packet, and put it into Mr Hylton's hands : "You will know 
 what to do with this," said she earnestly : (it contained a 
 £10 bank-note.) Another moment and she was hastening 
 along, followed by her maid, to Lady Alkmond's chamber ; 
 and Mr Hylton proceeded round to the front door, and 
 ringing the bell, was quickly admitted, and walked with 
 firm step and yet firmer heart, following one of the atten- 
 dants who had ushered Captain Lutteridge into the Earl's 
 presence, and who, now opening the library-door, announced 
 Mr Hylton, and, on his entry, instantly withdrew. 
 
 " So, sir," said Lord Milverstoke in a low hoarse voice, 
 rising from his chair, his eyes flashing the moment that he 
 saw Mr Hylton, '' you have robbed the gibbet of its due, to- 
 day!" Mr Hylton slowly approached, with a respectful 
 inclination^ towards a chair which seemed to have been 
 placed for him, but remained standing beside it, and spoke 
 not, observing the fearful excitement under which the Earl 
 was labouring : '' I say, sir, you have robbed the gallows 
 this day ! you have made groans rise from the gi-ave of the 
 murdered!" said the Earl, with a vehemence of manner to 
 which Mr Hylton had never seen, or even imagined, an 
 approach. 
 
 " I hope not, my Lord," he commenced gravely. 
 "I say you have, sir! The dead in their graves are 
 crying out against you ! " 
 
230 NOW AND THEN. 
 
 " God forbid, my Lord ! Nay, God forbid ! " repeated 
 Mr Hylton. 
 
 *' Blood crieth out from the ground ! — And you have dared 
 to interfere to defeat the vengeance of Heaven ! — Presump- 
 tuous ! " 
 
 ^' You are labouring, my Lord, under great excitement ; 
 let me implore of you to endeavour to calm yourself, and I 
 will respectfully and readily answer any thing which your 
 Lordship may demand of me. Recollect, my Lord, that I 
 have come willingly to attend your Lordship " — 
 
 " ^Vliat have you been doing, sir ? You, having a sacred 
 duty to me and my family, being at present one of my 
 chaplains, sir, have bestirred yourself — have busied your- 
 self — have gone about — to save the forfeited life of the 
 guilty — of him who did his endeavours to blast me and my 
 house — him whose accursed body was forbidden to pollute 
 the grave ! Yes, sir, such was the voice of the laws of 
 your country ! such the voice of justice ! and you — you 
 forsooth ! — have dared to step forward and disobey and 
 defeat that law, and pervert that justice ! What, sir ! " the 
 Earl started forward a step or two nearer to Mr Hylton, 
 who moved not, " would you, then, have that blood-stained 
 monster let loose upon me? — Am I — are I and mme — 
 henceforth to skulk in terror from the light of day, for 
 fear of the assassin ? Oh ! hideous ! — You ingrate ! you 
 meddling priest ! — There stand you, calm before my mad- 
 ness ! madness which you are brmging upon me ! — which I 
 feel coming upon me — and all at the bidding of one who 
 was bound religiously to me and mine ! " The Earl stepped 
 
NOW AND THEN. 231 
 
 back and threw himself down on the couch ; the vehis of 
 his forehead were swollen; he shook perceptibly, and 
 uttered a groan that seemed rending open his breast, while 
 his eyes were fixed upon those of Mr Hylton, who stood in 
 an attitude of respectful firmness. "Why speak you not, 
 sir ? Have you then no defence ? — no excuse ? Do you 
 really stand there, sir, and defy me?" 
 
 " Oh no, my Lord ! no ! I take God to witness how my 
 soul is torn at beholding you ; fearful as is your language 
 to be heard by a Christian, and a Christian minister" — 
 
 " Bah ! talk not, sir, to me of your Christian character ! " 
 thundered the Earl. " Where was" — 
 
 " Your Lordship means not to insult me, or outrage my 
 sacred office," said Mr Hylton, with solemn composure; 
 " too well I know your Lordship's lofty character. When 
 you are calmer, you possess a soul loving justice ; to that 
 soul I appeal— for that calmness I wait ; I will then render 
 full account of every thing, even the smallest matter that I 
 have done" — 
 
 " Now, sir ! now ! the present moment ! You shall have 
 no pretence, sir, for contriving evasive answers, or cunning 
 subterfuges ! Sir, there is a seat beside you ! Mr Hylton — 
 I request you — I beg — I desire — you to be seated. Begin ! 
 begin, sir ! — I am calmer — I am calmer than I was — calm 
 I never shall be again — my soul is shaken by your miscon- 
 duct — your cruelty — your perfidy !" 
 
 " If, my Lord, you desire me, as distinctly as I may, to 
 give an account of my doings, in this unhappy business, I 
 will at once" — 
 
232 NOW AND THEN. 
 
 '' Well, sir ! — at last, then ! — but remember, sir, two 
 tilings I demand ! — explain the past ! forbear /o?' the fixture ! 
 — to those two, sir, address your words ! " 
 
 " Have I, then, my Lord, really free speech ? Hear me 
 first, my Lord, and afterwards, if you choose, dismiss me 
 hence as you will, with whatever indignity, with whatever 
 reproach!" 
 
 " Oh ! I am all ear, sir ! all attention !" exclaimed Lord 
 Milverstoke, with an exhausted look, his eyes fixed heavily 
 on those of Mr Hylton, who, with a dignified bearing and 
 a presence of mind which had never for a moment deserted 
 him, inclmed towards Lord Milverstoke with a countenance 
 full of respect and sympathy, believing now that the fearful 
 storm had spent its chief violence. 
 
 " Having leave, my Lord," he began with quiet delibera- 
 tion, " from one who never once broke his word, that I know 
 of, and who, I verily believe, from his high nature, cannot, 
 I will speak as becomes one man to another, in the presence 
 of Him who made us both, and orders every event that 
 ever happened or can happen, however mysterious and 
 aw^ul. His nature being such. I will speak as though I 
 might never again speak here, nor enter this Castle. I 
 acknowledge the duty I owe your Lordship, one that, 
 humble and imperfect as may be my mode of doing it, I 
 would earnestly desire to do, to the end of my days, — or to 
 the end of your Lordship's will and pleasure. It was I 
 that buried yom- dead out of your sight, my Lord, and in 
 that awful moment w^as so moved by yom' majestic sorrow, 
 that I scarce could perform my sacred functions." Lord 
 
NOW AND THEN. 233 
 
 Mllverstoke's eyes fell to the ground for a moment, and his 
 lips quivered, but manifestly with no intention to speak, and 
 Mr Hylton's voice sHghtly trembled : '•'- When you quitted 
 that burial-place, these eyes followed you, and I breathed an 
 humble prayer to Almighty God, that He who had broken, 
 would heal your heart — a prayer that has seldom since been 
 absent from me, or forgotten when I offered up my own 
 supplications. My Lord, this most cruel, this barbarous 
 and most bloody murder, is hideous at this moment in my 
 eyes, as in your Lordship's : the vengeance of Heaven, of 
 Him to whom vengeance belongs, will assuredly light upon 
 the head of him who did this deed, be it sooner, be it later, 
 than man may look for ; and I pray God that such ven- 
 geance, if it be His will, may be swift. Now crave I your 
 Lordship's most absolute word and promise to be performed, 
 while I say but little more. I know not that I ever 
 knowingly broke my own word, or spoke that which I knew 
 to be false ; and so I now tell your Lordship firmly, even 
 though a thousand torturing racks were stretched in readi- 
 ness before me, I believe in my soul, in my soul of souls, 
 that this wretched man, Adam Ayliffe, is innocent of this 
 deed, for which he is nevertheless doomed to die ! " Lord 
 Milverstoke started from his chair, his breast heaving sud- 
 denly and violently, and he walked to and fro for a few 
 moments in silence, while Mr Hylton proceeded : — '' I 
 believe that had he been able, and had had the opportmiity, 
 his giant strength would have slain a thousand who had 
 raised a hand against the precious life of your son : ay, or 
 of any one else." 
 
234 NOW AND THEN. 
 
 ^' Oh ! Insupportable ! — intolerable ! " vehemently mut- 
 tered the Earl through his closed teeth, as he paced to and 
 fro before Mr Hylton — looking, however, away from him, as 
 if resolved not to interrupt him. 
 
 " I deliberately acknowledge that, as the case was proved 
 at the trial on Friday last, no other verdict than Guilty 
 would have been just" — 
 
 '' Oh ! what candour !" muttered the Earl to himself, with 
 a kind of bitter fury. 
 
 " So said, as doubtless your Lordship has heard, the 
 Chief Justice of England ; so said the jury ; so said all 
 who heard : there, had it stood, I would, had I been so 
 required, have done mine office towards the dying guilty, 
 nor dared to meddle with his righteous doom. My Lord, 
 these eyes saw, these ears heard, that wretched convict, 
 when first he was thrust, manacled and fettered, and blighted 
 by the cm^se of his sentence, into the cell where he awaited, 
 and, I fear, still awaits, an ignominious and imrighteous 
 death. In that terrible horn-, believing himself thenceforth 
 beyond the help of man, did he solemnly avow himself 
 innocent. I believed him then, and have ever since ; and 
 I believe him now.'''' 
 
 " How long — how much longer all this drivel?" quoth 
 the Earl to himself, as if nearly bm'sting through all self- 
 control. 
 
 ^' But not on my mere belief, nor any man's mere belief, 
 could the verdict which has been given be shaken. Yet 
 have I gained, with efforts which nothing could have 
 induced me to make, but a conviction that I obeyed the 
 
NOW AND THEN. 235 
 
 will of God, a brief and precious respite for this wretch. I 
 have stnven — I have been in long and mortal struggle with 
 the excellent and just Chief Justice, and laid such cause 
 before him as forced his righteous mind to delay this death. 
 And for the grounds — the reasons — these am I ready to 
 lay before your Lordship, if so your Lordship pleases." 
 Mr Hylton paused, and bowed. 
 
 " Ho, then at length my lips are loosed ! — is it — even — 
 so ?" said the Earl. "And I may speak ? and am able to 
 speak, not being choked with all the nonsense that I have 
 been hearing, and I hope, for your sake, sir, that even you 
 yourself have forgotten ! So, the idiot chatter of the con- 
 vict-cell — but" — the Earl with a great eifort restrained 
 himself — "but state, sir, such reasons, such grounds, as you 
 have urged — state, I say, your pretences — false I know 
 them ! — sir, sir, I ask your forgiveness ! Language unjusti- 
 fiable and unbecoming has passed from these lips — I crave 
 forgiveness, sir ! Scarce know I sometimes what I say or 
 think. But, sir, in mercy to me, tell me briefly why — why 
 the law falters about this death, and so stultifies its most 
 solemn doings in so few days, before all mankind?" 
 
 "My Lord, such reasons as I alleged satisfied a reluctant 
 Judge ; but only so far as to grant delay. No glimpse of 
 mercy — of pardon — was there in his gloomy face ; but this 
 brief delay he granted for inqviiry." 
 
 Here Mr Hylton produced the copy he had made of the 
 letter which he had forwarded that day to London, and 
 explained briefly how and when he himself had received 
 it. Then he read it to the Earl with deliberate emphasis. 
 
236 NOW AND THEN. 
 
 observing his Lordship give a slight start when the running 
 of the two men along the shore was mentioned ; but he 
 seemed instantly to recover himself, and heard Mr Hylton 
 read, without interrupting him, to the end. Then ^Ir Hylton 
 observed, on quickly glancing at the Earl, an expression 
 of withering scorn flit instantaneously over his agitated 
 features. 
 
 "And that wretched scrawl has delayed this day's justice, 
 and satisfied the powerful mind of the Chief Justice. Sir, 
 I tell you he must be a dotard ! He should be removed ! 
 He deserves impeachment ! I Avill in my place in Parlia- 
 ment impeach him ! " 
 
 " Sees then, really, your Lordship nothing in all this ? — 
 no reason even for pausmg — for considering whether it may 
 not be possible to trace out the guilty and save the innocent ? 
 Oh, my Lord, not one single fortnight, before the tree be 
 felled, which, once felled, must lie for ever as it falls !" 
 
 '^ Who sees not, sir, that this your letter is a transparent 
 device — a forgery — an imposture — a practice upon your 
 credulity ? And are keys such as these henceforth to open 
 our pnson-doors ? Oh, horrible, horrible mockery ! " 
 
 "The writer, my Lord, is known — known to one whom 
 your Lordship knows — the Eector of Midgecombe — a 
 gentleman, surely, and of honour and veracity." 
 
 "Oh, how can I patiently hear you, Mr Hylton," said 
 the Earl reproachfully, and with infinitely greater calmness 
 than he had till then manifested, " seriously m'ging on me 
 such despicable drivelling — for is it not such? Will that 
 paper of yours bear an instant's scmtiny ? And is it to be 
 
NOW AND THEN. 237 
 
 the potent instrument of letting loose again on society — oli, 
 I shudder ! I sicken ! Why, sir, how long is justice to be 
 thus befooled ? How long must we wait till these persons 
 — sir, the mere stating of it shows the monstrous absurdity 
 of your proceedings. Your feelings pervert your judgment 
 and disturb your understanding, sir. A false pity makes 
 you credulous and cruel : credulous are you to the guilty : 
 cruel are you to the innocent : cruel to the living : cruel to 
 the memory of the dead ! " 
 
 " JSTo, my Lord ! The dead may be in spirit present with 
 us at this moment — hearing and seeing, or hnowing how 
 the truth is — oh, my Lord, my Lord ! " — Mr Hylton said 
 all this very solemnly, and saw that the Earl was for a 
 moment startled by the thought which had been suggested 
 to him. '' And beware, my Lord, lest you yourself be cre- 
 dulous of guilt where guilt is not. Is it not worse than 
 being credulous of innocence where innocence is not, but 
 guilt ? This last is an error reparable ; the other irreparable ; 
 and an account thereof must be given hereafter. I speak 
 with the liberty and authority of my office. I come not 
 unbidden before you ; I intrude not on the retirement of 
 grief. But you call me hither ; and, as a messenger from 
 my Heavenly Master, I stand before you, and plead against 
 this your precipitate judgment of your fellow-man. ' If thou. 
 Lord, shouldst mark iniquity, O Lord, who should stand ? ' 
 To Him all things are known, even our most secret sins ; 
 quite forgotten, it may be, by ourselves ; unknown to any 
 living ; but marked and remembered by Him ! all seen by 
 the unsleeping Eye ! " 
 
238 NOW AND THEN. 
 
 The Earl remained silent ; his face suddenly went of a 
 ghastly whiteness. 
 
 Mr Hylton proceeded : — ^' Awful is this visitation of his 
 Providence — like a thunderbolt hath it fallen upon you. 
 Humble yourself under the mighty hand of God ! Think 
 not of vengeance, which is His, and He will repay it ! How 
 know you His object in all this? or the cause of it? That 
 there is some deep mystery hanging over this fearfid 
 occurrence, I in my conscience do believe. It may be one 
 never to be solved on this side of the grave," proceeded Mr 
 Hylton, who/eZ^ that his words were sinking into the heart 
 of the agitated listener. " I have myself reason to suspect 
 — perhaps to fear — that something strange and solemn may 
 yet come forth from all this ; yet to me all is now darkness. 
 ]\Iy Lord, I ask your pardon, I did not hear what your Lord- 
 ship said," continued Mr Hylton, observing that the Earl 
 asked him some question. 
 
 " I know not, sir," said he in a low subdued tone of voice, 
 and with a strange apprehensive expression of countenance, 
 ^' what you wish to convey to me. What do you mean, 
 sir ? What are you alluding to ? " 
 
 He paused, and Mr Hylton remained silent, from several 
 considerations. 
 
 " Did you, sir," said, presently, the Earl, " send Captain 
 Lutteridge to me as an emissary to torment me, and" — he 
 stopped, evidently suifering under strong emotion. 
 
 " My Lord, I did not send Captain Lutteridge hither ; he 
 proposed it himself: he refused, from a scruple of honour, to 
 disclose some matter which yet he said had happened, or, if 
 
NOW AND THEN. 239 
 
 I understood aright, something that had been said at your 
 Lordship's banqueting-table before " — 
 
 " Have you seen him, sir, since your return?" said the 
 Earl faintly. 
 
 '' I have, my Lord." 
 
 ^' And what said he?" 
 
 " That he had seen your Lordship ; and he simply refused 
 to give me any information whatever, or to give me any 
 cause for his withholding it." 
 
 The Earl sighed heavily. " And tell me, sir, did you 
 found on any thing that had fallen from him, any plea urged 
 before the Chief Justice ? " 
 
 " My Lord, I was forced to quit Milverstoke " — 
 
 ^' I know, I know that, sir. But give me an answer ! 
 Give me, sir, an answer to my question ! — candid and true, 
 I know from your character, that such answer will be." 
 
 " I repeat, my Lord, that time pressed upon me, I may 
 say, mortally. I saw the Captain but for a short time ; he 
 refused to tell me aught that had passed at your Lordship's 
 table, without your Lordship's express permission, which 
 he said he would get refused, or granted, before I quitted 
 for London ; but, to my infinite concern, the coach came 
 before he did, and I quitted by it, or my mission had been 
 useless. Under these difficulties, my Lord" — the Earl 
 listened with agonising earnestness — " I did most undoubt- 
 edly say to my Lord Chief Justice solely this, that I might 
 possibly be able, hereafter, to show him some reasons for 
 the Lord Alkmond's having quitted the banqueting-table, to 
 go into the wood as he did ; but I mentioned not names nor 
 
240 KOW AND THEN. 
 
 places, least of all those of your Lordship ; neither did I in 
 any way suggest or insinuate them." 
 
 The Earl eyed him all the while that he was saying this 
 gloomily. " Do you, Mr Hylton," said he, " believe Lord 
 Milverstoke, when he asserts or denies^any thing ? " 
 
 " Most absolutely, as I would that your Lordship would 
 so beheve me." 
 
 " Then, sir, I tell you that I verily believe it to be 
 beyond all question, that the biief conversation which Cap- 
 tain Lutteridge represents as having taken place at my 
 table, had no connexion whatsoever with the frightful occur- 
 rence which has reduced me to — that which you see before 
 you. Yet, sir, would I not have such matters talked of, 
 giving occasion, as possibly they might, to vulgar scandal 
 and gossip, and offensive and hurtful speculation and won- 
 dering. But, sir, is it possible that the Chief Justice laid 
 stress on such matter ; and founded upon it, in any degree, 
 his respite?" 
 
 " I know not, my Lord, for he said not ; he told me 
 with a face which, ever since, I have seen frowning before 
 me, that he was all against me ! and that, in a manner, I 
 took the proffered respite at my peril — on peril, that is, of 
 making the prisoner twice die." 
 
 " Think not, sir, from what I have said in this matter," 
 said the Earl, with an exhausted air, " that I consent to this 
 foolish respite ; I think it a foul perversion of justice, and 
 of most horrid example ! " 
 
 " I was hoping, my Lord, that milder and better thoughts 
 were rising up hi your mind !" 
 
NOW AND THEN. 241 
 
 " Draw not false consequences, sir, from appearances. 
 Methinks I seem calmer than when we met ; but, believe me, 
 sir, my heart seems dead within me, and my mind may 
 perish at any instant. I feel my soul failing me. Things 
 that you know not, revived by what you have been saying, 
 are well-nigh maddening me : I can now no longer think or 
 talk. Leave me, Mr Hylton; but be assured, my will is 
 inflexible, my judgment unconvinced — utterly untouched by 
 any thing that you have urged," 
 
 " Still would I ask your Lordship to listen to the other 
 ground on which I pressed my precarious suit with the Chief 
 Justice. My Lord, I have reason to believe that — without 
 desiring to impute any thing of wilful misconduct to one of 
 the principal witnesses, he was seriously mistaken, at least, 
 in attributing to the prisoner that which he has ever strenu- 
 ously disclaimed — ill blood to your Lordship, or any mem- 
 ber of your family. That witness stated that this unhappy 
 man, and even his father, had long entertained malignant 
 feelings towards yom^ Lordship." 
 
 " So they have, sir! I know it!" interrupted the Earl, 
 fiercely ; " but why am I to be dragged into these matters? 
 Am I to sit in judgment on every paltry perversion of 
 proved facts, subsequently thought of by the condemned and 
 his friends ? No more of it, sir ! No more of it, sir ! I will 
 hear nothing ; blood glares before my eyes ! the cry of it is 
 in my ears ! Leave me ! leave me, sir ! and pursue, if you will, 
 your insane efforts to cheat the gallows finally of its prey ! 
 — to bring again to Milverstoke your injured, your pious 
 parishioner ! Oh ! it is maddening ! Sir, I would be alone ! " 
 
 E 
 
242 NOW AND THEN. 
 
 ^' I take my leave then, my Lord, thus Laden with your 
 bitter, but I feel unjust, reproaches ; my conscience being- 
 clear and void of offence to God and man, and dictating my 
 duty. That duty I must and will do, my Lord, caring for 
 consequences nothing whatever." 
 
 " Good even, sir, good even !" interrupted the Earl, 
 impetuously, and with a miserable countenance ; and bowing 
 in silence, Mr Hylton withdrew, greatly oppressed; 
 inwardly bewailing the Earl's sufferings, but more his 
 unchristian temper ; desponding for the issue of his own 
 enterprise of mercy and justice, but with no trace of 
 exasperation or irritation for the many harsh expressions 
 and imputations which had been levelled at him by the 
 proud, infm-iate peer. 
 
 That night slept good Mr Hylton in deep, sweet sleep, 
 forgetful of all things — alike of bodily fatigue, of mental 
 anxiety, and the bitter, impassioned reproaches to which he 
 had listened, with manly and Christian forbearance, just 
 before retiring to rest. Him they disturbed not sleeping, 
 whom, when awake, they had not provoked to forgetfulness 
 of whose Minister and servant he was ; whose work he had 
 to do ; whom he had hereafter to appear before, and show 
 how that work had been done ! 
 
 It cannot be exactly told how it came to pass, but there 
 seemed a sort of tacit miderstanding, that evening, among the 
 leading inhabitants of Milverstoke, that they should confer 
 together on the matter of the respite ; and one by one they 
 di'opped into the parlour (a large, yet snug and simple- 
 fashioned one it was) of the Blind Hound — for so had the 
 
NOW AND THEN. 243 
 
 inn at Milverstoke been immemorially called, owing to an 
 ancient tradition in the Milverstoke family. While Mr 
 Hylton was engaged in his exciting interview with the 
 gloomy lord of the Castle, the parlour of the Blind Hound 
 was well-nigh filled. The doctor had felt it his duty to call 
 upon the churchwarden, Mr Wigley, a man whom he had 
 most thoroughly cured at least a fortnight before, and who 
 being somewhat, it might possibly be, imprudently, at the 
 Blind Hound, thither vigilantly followed him the doctor ; 
 and they two were incontinently joined by at least six or 
 eight others. 
 
 " There's no getting over the blood on coat and stick — 
 there oughtn't to be, and therefore there can't, and so there's 
 the end of all that^ Mr Wigley," said, in a peremptory 
 and authoritative tone, Mr Glynders, the farrier, whose 
 professional services were often required at the Castle. 
 
 "Well, nay now, say I; nay, saving your better 
 knowledge, Mr Glynders," quoth Mr Wigley — a most 
 devoted admirer of the parson's — " why may it not be true, 
 as the poor man said at the trial, that he did stumble in fright 
 over a body that had been murdered by another?" 
 
 " Pho ! so would get off every murderer," replied Mr 
 Glynders haughtily. '• I stand with my Lord Chief Justice, 
 and he said 'twas all gammon, and quite impossible to be 
 true; and he was right !" 
 
 " Why," said Mr Muddle, a small farmer, very modestly, 
 " saving your presence, Mr Glynders, I do remember some- 
 thing that, if you please, I will mention. Do you, gentle- 
 men, any of you recollect Nick Gould having me up at 
 
244 NOW AND THEN. 
 
 Sessions, two years ago, for an assault? He showed the 
 Justices a sliirt of his, with blood on the neck and ^mst, and 
 swore I did it with my fist, when nobody else was by : he was 
 believed, and I fined. I, knowing all the while it was a cruel 
 and false lie, and perjury — for I fetched no blood, striking 
 him only on the shoulder, and kicking him elsewhere (as I 
 would again, were he to do again what he then did,) — 
 hows'cver, I paid the money, and be hanged to him ; and, 
 three months afterwards, over his cups one night, he owned 
 the blood was that of a pig he'd killed just before ! " 
 
 " Now why can't it be so here, Mr Gljaiders? " said Mr 
 Wigley, replenishmg his pipe, — " answer that." 
 
 '' Because it canH — that's flat," replied Glynders dogma- 
 tically. 
 
 " Alas ! Mr Wigley," said the doctor, " though I'm a bit 
 shaken about this case, I don't see how that matter of Mr 
 ^luddle squares with this — seeing that there it was merely 
 pig's blood, and none of man, at all ; whereas here, ' tis 
 owned by Ayliffe to be the blood of poor Lord Alkmond 
 past all dispute; so there's no likeness between the two 
 cases." 
 
 " Yes, to be sure, that is so ; and what I was going to say, 
 doctor," said Mr Glynders. " So now you've had your 
 say. Muddle ; and a pretty one 'tis ! " 
 
 Mr Muddle modestly went on smoking in silence, inwardly- 
 owning that he was quite vanquished, but not distinctly 
 seeing how that had been effected by Mr Glynders. Here 
 there was a pause. 
 
 " I wonder," said the doctor, " what any one of us would 
 
NOW AND THEN. 245 
 
 have done had he been In AylifFe's place — gone to do as he 
 said he did— and, stick in hand, lit on the bloody body ? " 
 
 " I should have tried to revive him, or see if he were 
 really dead," said one. 
 
 " I should have hollo'd out. Murder ! " quoth another. 
 
 " So should I," said a third. 
 
 " I should have shouted, and run for help " — 
 
 ''I should have hstened for steps," said several in a 
 breath. 
 
 " And suppose," said Mr Wigley, " you'd heard some 
 one coming after you while you were running, and had 
 suddenly thought how ugly and black it might seem against 
 you— adad, if I'd thought of all that, I'm thinking I should 
 have done as Ayliffe did, and been glad enough to get clean 
 out on't." 
 
 " And a stick, with blood on it, in your hand, too, would 
 be a nice companion to get home and be caught with," 
 quoth Glynders. 
 
 " Nay, nay, you're too hard on poor Ayliffe," said one. 
 
 " Suppose he'd thrown the stick away, and it had been 
 found bloody ; wouldn't that have been worse ?" 
 
 No one answered this, for it seemed so convincing ; till 
 Mr Muddle somewhat timidly said, '' No ; why, it might be 
 said some one else had done it, with Ayliffe's stick !" 
 
 Here was another pause : whereupon, " You see, gentle- 
 men," said Mr Glynders, dignifiedly, ^' how wrong you all 
 get, when once you go beyond my Lord Chief Justice and 
 the jury. Depend on't they're always right, or it's no use 
 having judge and jury." 
 
240* NOW AND THEN. 
 
 " That which troubles me most in the businesSj" said the 
 doctor, " is what all this has brought on poor old AylifFe 
 and young Mrs AylifFe : better people never lived in this 
 coimtry, that ever I heard of; and as for the old man, he's 
 brought up his family better than most of us." 
 
 '' Well, no one says he^s done any thing wrong, and 
 much is he to be pitied," said Mr Glynders ; " yet 'tis 
 proved he had a terrible grudge against my Lord and hisy 
 
 ^^What!" said Mr Wigley, ''old Adam AylifFe !— my 
 life on't, 'tis false !" And all present but Glynders eagerly 
 echoed his words. '' Never did AylifFe do hurt to any man, 
 woman, child, beast, bird, or any livuig thing." 
 
 " By the way, sir," interposed Mr Wigley, addressing 
 the doctor, " how comes on poor Mrs AylifFe — is she likely 
 to get over it?" 
 
 " No, I fear not ; the illness that she was in, from the 
 sudden fright, brought her direct to the grave's edge, and 
 there she has been ever since : a single puff may blow her 
 in, as it were !" 
 
 " So is it with the Lady Alkmond, at the Castle, as I 
 surely hear," said Mr Glynders, somewhat sternly ; " and 
 what can signify Adam Ayliffe's wife, to that poor Lady?" 
 
 '' Make not comparisons, Mr Glynders, I beseech you !" 
 said the doctor — who had been himself occasionally in 
 attendance on Lady Alkmond, in addition to two physicians, 
 one of them of great eminence from London, and another 
 from the neighbouring town, and the resident family phy- 
 sician. " Surely God hath afflicted both, and the one is as 
 innocent, and as much to be pitied, as the other." 
 
NOW AND THEN. 247 
 
 " What ! where the one's husband — bless the poor Lady — 
 died unjustly, and the other's will die justly ?" 
 
 Here was a pause. 
 
 " I wonder what my Lord Milverstoke says to all this ! " 
 exclaimed one ; and added, addressing Mr Glynders, " What 
 say you, Mr Glynders ? we should like to hear ! " 
 
 " I never mention what happens at the Castle," he re- 
 plied impressively. '' But thus much I may say — his 
 Lordship desires only the thing that is right to be done ; 
 which is, that this man, AylifFe, should suffer !" 
 
 '^ 'Tis a dreadful thing to hear one's self told, with one's 
 own ears, that one's body's to be dissected and anatomised ! " 
 said one ; and there was a perceptible shudder throughout 
 the room. 
 
 '•'• I hope it won't come to that," said the doctor mildly ; 
 " but if the thing is to be, why, I must say," — he paused 
 suddenly, and added, in a different voice — " it surely does 
 not signify much — does it ? — what is to become of the shell, 
 if the kernel's safe : and I think I know," he continued, 
 dropping his voice to a lower tone, " those who will have 
 the anatomising of poor Ayliffe ! for what must be must 
 be, and there's no use mincing things, is there ?" he asked, 
 looking round with a melancholy shake of the head. But 
 every face looked blank — no one answered ; for before the 
 disturbed mind's eye of each, arose the dismal object of a 
 skeleton — the skeleton of one whom all of them had fami- 
 liarly known for years as a man frank, good-natured, high- 
 spirited, ready to oblige every body, of spotless character 
 till this questionable charge, and who, while they were 
 
248 NOW AND THEN. 
 
 talking, lay, as It were, alive in death — liis manly limbs 
 heavily ironed, his heart broken. 
 
 " There's a deal of work to be done this next few days 
 by those who have got this respite, isn't there?" said one. 
 
 " It will all come to nothing, you'll find, this that was 
 heard of, about a man seen running away," said another. 
 " I suppose it's that which gained the respite ; but those 
 must be sharp who have the catching of that same man 
 during the fortnight. I should like to know what said the 
 King on the subject, when Mr Hylton saw his Majesty ?" 
 
 " He never saw the King — not he," said Mr Glynders, 
 somewhat sneeringly. 
 
 " Didn't he!'''' echoed Mr Wigley confidently, and some- 
 what peremptorily ; for he being churchwarden, and in 
 frequent communication with Mr Hylton on parish business, 
 and indeed on many other matters, felt that he had a right 
 to appear better informed than others, of his movements ; 
 and the grander they appeared, the more elevating, of 
 course, to Mr Wigley. His significant "Didn't he!" 
 seemed conclusive ; and after some other conversation of a 
 general nature, the party was about to break up, when the 
 landlord announced that Mr Hylton had just called, on 
 horseback, as he passed, to inquire whether Mr Wigley 
 were there ; and on learning that he was, had ridden on, 
 leaving word for him to come at once to the parsonage, as 
 Mr Hylton had something to say to him. Mr Wigley, on 
 hearing this, looked important, yet changed colour a little ; 
 and all present silently gave him credit for being as high 
 in the counsels of the Vicar as he had been intimating. 
 
NOW AND THEN. 249 
 
 And to be sure, shortly afterwards, Mr Hylton, all fatigued 
 and depressed in body and mind as he was, gave ]\Ir 
 Wigley half an hour's audience ; and then put him upon 
 making many inquiries, early in the ensuing day, concer- 
 ning a point connected with the great murder case, which Mr 
 Wigley inwardly wondered had never before happened to 
 occur to any of the very astute party at the Blind Hound. 
 His ears also tingled a little at a chance-word falling from 
 Mr Hylton, which dissipated into thin air the notion of his 
 having seen the King on the matter : but that good Mr 
 Wigley perhaps justly deemed unnecessary to be again 
 alluded to elsewhere — and besides, seeing the King's minis- 
 ter personally, was, after all, in a general way, exceedingly 
 like seeing the King himself. 
 
2-^0 KOW AND THEN. 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 The first thing that Mr Hjlton did, in the morning, was 
 to attempt to follow up the inquiries suggested by the 
 mysterious letter from the mate of the Mornmg Star : 
 taking such means as occurred to him, to ascertain whether 
 any one living near the sea-shore had noticed any thing- 
 unusual on the eventful night in question ; or any thing 
 which, when originally observed, might have appeared un- 
 important, yet, on being now minutely inquired into, might 
 become of pregnant significance. Then his thoughts directed 
 themselves, in his dire dilemma and perplexity, towards a 
 question which he dared hardly even propose to himself : — 
 Could any one have had any imaginable MOTIVE for killing 
 Lord Alkmond? Scarcely venturing to follow up the 
 shadowy possibility, yet led on irresistibly by the vague 
 and mysterious character of what might have taken place 
 at, or immediately after, the banquet on that fatal evening — 
 he thought within himself, as he stood in his Httle library, 
 " Had the unfortunate young nobleman, in an unguarded 
 and guilty hour, yielded to headlong passions, and lit up in 
 the hearts of others the fires of intense and unappeasable 
 
NOW AND THEN. 251 
 
 malignity and revenge? But, indeed, how could that 
 degrading suspicion be entertained in the case of a young 
 nobleman, situated as he was — more es23ecially at that par- 
 ticular period — coming down at a season of exulting family 
 festivity, accompanied by his beautiful Viscountess, and his 
 cherished little son and heir ? Had, nevertheless," for Mr 
 Hylton felt such an awful sense of responsibihty upon him 
 as compelled him to do with his might what his hand had 
 undertaken to do — and to let no false delicacy, no improba- 
 bility even, however glaring at first sight — prevent him from 
 exhausting every possible supposition — "had Lord Alkmond 
 so far forgotten himself, in a moment of hcentiousness, in a 
 temporary God-forgetting recklessness, as to incur the blast- 
 ing guilt of ruining female virtue, and turning into fiends 
 those interested in protecting or avenging it ? If not at, or 
 near, Milverstoke, had such miserable occurrence happened 
 elsewhere : and had the bloodthirsty avenger tracked his 
 unsuspecting steps, and lain in wait for him ? Why was 
 Lord Alkmond at all in the woods at such an hour on such 
 an occasion ?" Mr Hylton almost started in trepidation- at 
 the possibilities which he was conjuring up around him— 
 the fearful figures with which he was peopling his disturbed 
 and morbidly active fancy. For that something had occurred, 
 and of a very peculiar nature, was evident from what little 
 had dropped from Captain Lutteridge and the Earl himself ; 
 the latter being — and, indeed having owned himself — greatly 
 distressed and agitated about the matter, and having per- 
 emptorily forbidden both Captain Lutteridge and Mr Hylton 
 to utter a syllable about it to any one. 
 
252 NOW AND THEN. 
 
 '^ But let me not," said Mr Hylton, almost aloud, ^' let me 
 not wrong the noble and innocent dead, in order to protect 
 even the wronged, and innocent, and mortally-endangered 
 living ! To the winds with such injurious and cruel suspi- 
 cions !'' Yet, struggle as he might, he could not quit the 
 dismal train of thought into which he had seemed forced ; 
 and his speculations received a fresh impetus, on its sud- 
 denly occurring to him, that he had heard of the young 
 Lord's having been, for some time shortly previous to the 
 fatal occurrence, in low and troubled spirits ; and Captain 
 Lutteridge had distinctly told him that, whatever was the 
 subject which had been introduced into the conversation, it 
 had distm-bed Lord Alkmond to a pitch that was absolutely 
 intolerable, and he had been, apparently, incapacitated from 
 presenting himself, at least till after some interval, intended 
 for recovering his spirits, in the ball-room. Into the woods 
 he had gone, and to a considerable distance from the 
 Castle ; and he could not have been long absent, before 
 being murdered by the hand of frightfully ferocious violence. 
 Had the fatal blow been stiaick by the persons who were 
 represented as having been seen imnning alone the shore ? 
 and had they intended to slay Lord Alkmond? or had 
 they mistaken him for some other person ? If so, /or icliom ? 
 Had his Lordship unexpectedly encountered poachers, and, 
 owing to his dress, in the gloom of the night, been con- 
 founded with some obnoxious keeper ? Or had he, Avith the 
 spirit of a soldier, endeavoured to resist and capture any 
 person, and been suddenly felled to the earth by some one 
 behind? Or — honid thought, haunting Mr Hylton in spite 
 
NOW AND THEN. 253 
 
 of all that had occurred m the condemned cell — had, as 
 suggested by the Lord Chief Justice, the blow been really 
 struck by Ayliffe, under the belief that he was inflicting it 
 on Hundle, the perfidious informer against him ? Or was it 
 possible that Lord Alkmond had gone out into the wood hy 
 ap2^ointment — a supposition that seemed to the last degree 
 improbable. With whom ? For what ? And at such an 
 hour, and on such an occasion ? If Ayliffe had gone into 
 the wood in the way which he had represented, how knew 
 he that Hundle would be there ? And had Hundle been 
 there that night ? After being long tormented by these and 
 many other perplexing conjectures, Mr Hylton anxiously 
 asked himself the question — whether, if, at the fortnight's 
 end, the case should stand as it did at that moment, he could 
 then offer any valid reason whatever, why the sentence of 
 the law should not be carried into effect ? For what would 
 there, in such case, be, to extricate Ayliffe from the rational 
 presumption arising out of his appalling proximity to the 
 deed, in point of both time and place, as had been estab- 
 lished to demonstration — but his own unsupported asser- 
 tions ? Would there be really doubt enough to warrant a 
 further suspension of the sentence? Mr Hylton sighed, and in- 
 wardly answered in the negative. Had he, then, been guilty 
 of precipitation ? For surely very guilty would be such pre- 
 cipitation : and of that guilt all would convict him, however 
 unjustly, by the adverse issue of his exertions. Alas ! if he 
 had nourished hopes but to be blighted ! How heavy and 
 thankless his responsibility ! Accused on every side : by the 
 
254 NOW AND THEN. 
 
 prisoner, and all who pitied and wished him well ; by Lord 
 ]^.lilverstoke, and those interested in the prosecution ; by 
 tlie public, roused on behalf of justice ! 
 
 Greatly disturbed was he by these doubts and fears ; yet 
 he felt consoled by the conscious purity of his motives, his 
 perfect disinterestedness. Xay, was he not acting directly 
 against his ow^n worldly interests, in thus making a mortal 
 enemy of the Earl of Milverstoke ? This last, however, was 
 a consideration which gave him not an instant's concern. 
 And for the rest, he had from the first besought, and con- 
 tinued faithfully to seek, the aid of heaven, and its guidance 
 in all his doings ; w^herefore he felt a supporting conscious- 
 ness of being engaged upon his duty, resolved to shrink 
 from no suiFenng or sacrifice, whether foreseen or not ; to 
 leave no effort untried: to tuork luJuIe it teas day; for the 
 night came in which no man might ivorh. 
 
 He felt an almost insuperable repugnance to visiting poor 
 Ayliffe, during the pendency of these critical proceedings. 
 What questions might he not ask? — questions, the not 
 answering of which might prove as fatally delusive as the 
 answering disingenuously ; and as to equivocation of any 
 sort, under any circumstances, it was a thing impossible to 
 Mr Hylton — least of all, as a minister of religion, and 
 towards a death-doomed fellow-creature. And with refer- 
 ence to Mr Hylton's present object, w^hat useful information 
 had he to expect from Aylifi"e ? There seemed but one sub- 
 ject on w^hich Mr Hylton could w^ith any advantage ques- 
 tion him : and yet, when considered, how ineffectually. 
 
NOW AND THEN. 255 
 
 whatever might be the answer ! — and that was, concerning 
 the reason which AylifFe had had for expecting to meet 
 with Hundle in the wood, on the particular night when he 
 went thither. But, as the case stood, what signified that 
 reason, however satisfactory and conclusive ? except, indeed, 
 as tending to negative the notion that he had gone thither 
 with any feelings of hostility towards Lord Alkmond, whom, 
 nevertheless, he might have mistaken for the object of his 
 own particular vengeance. But Mr Hylton received one 
 brief message from the unhappy occupant of the condemned 
 cell, which no man, least of all such an one as Mr Hylton, 
 could disregard ! — " I go back into darkness while you are 
 away!" 
 
 On this, ^' Poor soul ! " said Mr Hylton, ordering his 
 horse, '' I will quickly be with thee ! " 
 
 As he rode along, his mind lost sight almost entirely of 
 the temporal in the spiritual, the present in the future 
 interests of the condemned ; and by the time that he had 
 reached the gaol, his mind was in an elevated frame, befit- 
 ting the solemn and sublime considerations with which it 
 had been engaged. 
 
 A turnkey, with loaded blunderbuss on his arm, leaned 
 against the cell door, which he opened for Mr Hylton in 
 silence, as he approached — disclosing poor Ayliife sitting on 
 his bench, double-ironed, his head buried in his hands, his 
 elbows supported by his knees. He did not move on the 
 entrance of Mr Hylton, as his name had not been mentioned 
 by the turnkey. 
 
 "Adam! Adam! — the Lord be with thee! Amen!" 
 
256 NOW AND THEN. 
 
 exclaimed Mr Hylton, gently taking in his hand one of the 
 prisoner's. 
 
 AylifFe suddenly started up, a gaunt figure, rattling dis- 
 mally in his irons ; and grasping, in both his hands, that of 
 Mr Hylton, carried it to his heart, to which he pressed it 
 for some moments in silence, and then, bursting into tears, 
 sunk again on his bench. 
 
 " God bless thee, Adam ! and lift up tlie light of His 
 countenance upon thee ! Put thy tinist in him : but remem- 
 ber that He is the All-Seeing, the Omniscient, Omnipotent 
 God, who is of purer eyes than to hehold iniquity!^'' 
 
 AylifFe wept in silence, and, with reverent affection of 
 manner, pressed to his lips the still-retained hand of Mr 
 Hylton. 
 
 " Come, Adam ! speak ! Speak to your pastor — your 
 friend — your minister ! " 
 
 " You seem an angel, sir!" said Ayliffe, looking at him 
 with a dull, oppressed eye, that was heartbreaking. 
 
 " Why an angel, Adam ? I bring you," said Mr Hylton, 
 shaking his head, and sighing, '' no earthly good news 
 whatever ; nothing but my unworthy offices to prepare you 
 for hereafter ! Prepare!" continued Mr Hylton, with an 
 awful solemnity, '' prepare to meet thy God, for He draweth 
 near ! And who may abide the day of His coming ! " 
 
 " I was readier for my change when last I saw you, sir, 
 than now," said Ayliffe, with a suppressed groan, covering 
 his face with his manacled hands. 
 
 " How is that, poor Adam?" 
 
 '' Ah ! good sir ! I was, so it seemed, half over Jordan, 
 
NOW AND THEN. 257 
 
 and have been dragged back. I see not, now, that other 
 bright shore, which made me forget earth ! All now is 
 dark!" 
 
 His words smote Mr Hylton to the heart. ^' Why is 
 this? Why should it be? Adam!" said he, earnestly, 
 ''have you ever been, can you possibly ever be, out of 
 God's hands? What happens but from God? And if 
 He hath prolonged this your bitter, bitter trial, what should 
 you, what can you do, but submit to His infinite power and 
 goodness? He doth not afflict unlUngly^ nor grieve the 
 cMldren of men^ to crush under his feet all the jprisoners of 
 the earth! He will not cast off for ever; hut though he 
 cause grief yet will He have compassion according to the 
 multitude of his mercies .^ " 
 
 "Oh, sir ! oft do I think his mercy is clean gone for 
 ever ! Why — why am I here ?" he continued, with sudden 
 vehemence. " He knoweth my innocence — yet will make 
 me die the death of the gniilty? That cannot, cannot be 
 just!" 
 
 " Adam ! " said Mr Hylton, earnestly, " Satan is indeed 
 besieging you ! Even if, in the inscrutable decrees of Pro- 
 vidence, you be ordained to die for what you did not, have 
 you forgotten that sublime and awful truth and fact, on 
 which depend all your hopes — the death of Him who died, 
 the just^ for the unjust f " 
 
 Ayliffe's head sunk down on his knees. 
 
 "Ah, sir!" said he, tremulously, after a pause, during 
 which Mr Hylton had not interfered with his meditations, 
 
258 NOW AND THEN. 
 
 " those words do drive me into the dust, and then raise me 
 again higher than I was before ! " 
 
 " And so, verily, they ought, Adam ! Is there a God? 
 Has He really revealed himself to us? Are the Scriptures 
 true ? Am I the true servant of a true master ? If to all 
 this you say yea^ speak not again distrustfully. If you do, 
 if you so think, then are you too like to be beyond the pale of 
 mercy. I am free, Adam, — you are bound,— yet are both 
 our lives every instant at the command and absolute disposal 
 of Him who gave them, that we might be on trial here for 
 a little while. For aught I know, I may even yet die 
 before you, and with greater pain and grief; but both of us 
 must surely die, and much of my life is gone for ever. As 
 your frail fellow-mortal, then, I beseech you to hsten to me ! 
 Our mode of leaving life is ordered by God, even as our 
 mode of entering into, and living in it. To some He hath 
 ordained riches, others poverty ; to some pleasure, others 
 misery, in this life ; but all for reasons, and with objects 
 best known, nay, known only to Himself ! Adam, you have 
 now been four days here beyond that which had been ap- 
 pointed you : now that we are alone, have you aught to 
 confide to me, as the muiister for whom you have sent? 
 What saith my Master? If you confess your sins. He is 
 faithful and just to forgive you ; but if you say that you 
 have no sin, you deceive yourself, and the truth is not in 
 you. And if that last be so, Adam, what shall be said of 
 you, what can be hoped for you ? " 
 
 " If you be thinking, sir, of that deed for which I am 
 
NOW AND THEN. 2r)9 
 
 condemned," said Ayliffe, with a suddenly radiant coun- 
 tenance, " then am I easy and happy. God, my maker, 
 and who will be my judge, knoweth whether I speak the 
 truth. Ay ! ay ! I am as innocent of this deed as you 
 
 are: 
 
 ! " 
 
 " It is right, Adam, that I should tell you, that all man- 
 kind who know of your case, from the highest down even to 
 the lowest, do believe you guilty." 
 
 "Ah, sir, is not that hard to bear ? " said Ayliffe, with a 
 grievous sigh, and a countenance that looked anguish un- 
 speakable, and insupportable. 
 
 " It is, Adam — it is hard ; yet, were it harder, it must be 
 borne. Here is Lord Milverstoke, who hath lost his son, 
 his only son, the heir to his title and his vast possessions — 
 lost him in this mysterious and horrid way : is not that hard 
 to be borne ? And now, Adam, — I ask you by your precious 
 hopes of hereafter, — do you bear animosity towards him 
 who believes you to be his son's murderer? " 
 
 There was an awful silence for nearly a minute, at the 
 close of which Ayliffe, with an anguished face, said, 
 
 " Oh, sir ! give me time to answer you ! Pray for me ! 
 I know whose example I ought to imitate; but " — he sud- 
 denly seemed to have sunk into a reverie, which lasted for 
 some time ; at the end of which, — " sir — Mr Hylton," said 
 he, desperately, " am I truly to die on Monday week ? Oh, 
 tell me ! tell me, sir ! Life is sweet, I own ! " 
 
 He spmng towards Mr Hylton, and convulsively grasped 
 his hands, looking into his face with frenzied earnestness. 
 
 '' I cannot — I will not deceive you, Adam," repHed Mr 
 
260 NOW AND THEN. 
 
 Hylton, looking aside, and with a profound sigh. " My 
 duty is to prepare you for death ; but '• — 
 
 ^' Ah ! " said he witli a desperate air, '^ I am to be hanged 
 like a vile dog ! — and every one cursing me, who am all 
 the wliile innocent ! — and no burial service to be said over 
 my poor body! — never — iiever to be buried!" With a 
 dismal groan he sunk back, and would have fallen from the 
 bench, but for Mr Hylton's stepping forward. " Sir — sir," 
 said AylifFe presently, glaring with sudden wildness, " did 
 you see the man at the door, with the blunderbuss ? There 
 he stands ! all day ! all night ! but never comes in !— 
 never speaks! Would that he would put it to my head 
 and finish me in a moment !" 
 
 " Adam ! Adam ! what awful language is this that I 
 hear?" said Mr Hylton sternly. "Is this the way that 
 you have spoken to your pious and venerable father?" 
 
 "No! no! no! sir!" — he pressed his hand to his fore- 
 head — " but my poor head wanders ! I — I am better now ! 
 I seem just to have come out of a horrible dream. But I 
 should never di-eam thus, if you would stay with me — till — 
 all is over!" 
 
 Feeling it quite impossible then to ask the miserable convict 
 such questions as he had wished, Mr Hylton resolved not to 
 make the attempt, but to do it as prudently and as early as 
 might be, through old AylifFe, or the chaplain or governor 
 of the gaol. He was just about to leave, and was con- 
 sidering in what terms he could most effectually address 
 himself to Ayliffe, when, without any summons having 
 issued from within, the door was unlocked, and the turnkey, 
 
NOW AND THEN. 261 
 
 thrusting in his head, said, " I say, my man, here's the 
 woman come with thy child, that thou'st been asking for. 
 They'll be let in when the gentleman goes." 
 
 Ayliffe started up from his seat with an eager motion 
 towards the door, but was suddenly jerked down again, 
 having forgotten, in his momentary ecstasy, that his irons 
 were attached to a staple in the floor. 
 
 " Come, come, my man," said the turnkey sternly, '^ thou 
 must be a bit quieter, I can tell thee, if this child is to come 
 to thee." 
 
 " Give me the lad ! give me the lad ! give me the lad ! " 
 said Ayliffe, in a hoarse whisper, his eyes straining towards 
 the approaching figure of the good woman, who, with a 
 sorrowful and apprehensive look, now came in sight of the 
 condemned man. 
 
 "Lord bless thee, Adam Ayliffe!" she began, bursting 
 into tears : " Lord love thee and protect thee, Adam 1" 
 
 " Give me the lad! — show me the lad!" he continued 
 staling at her, while she trembHngly pushed aside her red 
 cloak ; and, behold, there lay in her arms, simply and de- 
 cently clad, his little boy, awake, and gazmg, apparently 
 apprehensively, at the strange wild figure whose arms 
 were extended to receive it. 
 
 " Adam, father of this thy dear child," said Mr Hylton, 
 in a soothing manner, interposing for a moment between 
 Ayliffe and the child, not without some alarm, " wilt thou 
 handle it tenderly, remembering how feeble and small it is ? " 
 On this poor Ayliffe turned to Mr Hylton with a face of 
 unutterable agony, weeping lamentably ; and still extend- 
 
262 NOW AND THEN. 
 
 ing his arms, the passive child, eyeing him in timid silence, 
 was placed within them. He sat down gently, gazing at 
 his child for some moments, with a face never to be forgot- 
 ten by those who saw it. Then he brought it near to his 
 face, and kissed incessantly, but with imspeakable tender- 
 ness, its tiny features, which were quickly bedewed with a 
 father's tears. 
 
 "His mother! — Oh, his mother! — his mother!" he ex- 
 claimed, in heart-rending tones, still gazing intently at the 
 child's face, which was directed towards his own with evi- 
 dent apprehension. Its little hand for a moment clasped 
 one of the cold irons that bound its father, but removed it 
 immediately. The father, seeing this, seemed grievously 
 agitated for some moments ; and Mr Hylton, who also had 
 observed the circumstance, was greatly affected, and turned 
 aside his head. After a while, 
 
 " How easily, my little lad, could I dash out thy brains 
 against these irons," said Ayliffe, in a low desperate tone 
 of voice, staring wildly into the child's face, " and save thee 
 from ever coming to this unjust fate that thy father hath !" 
 
 Mr Hylton was excessively alarmed, but concealed his 
 feelings, preparing, nevertheless, for some perilous and 
 insane action of the prisoner's, endangering the safety of the 
 child. The gathering cloud, however, passed away, and 
 the manacled father kissed his imconscious child, with all 
 his former tenderness. 
 
 " They'll tell thee, poor lad, that I was a murderer ! 
 though it be false as hell!" muttered Ayliffe, fiercely — 
 " They'll shout after thee, ^ There goes the murderer's 
 
NOW AND THEN. 263 
 
 son ! '" He paused — and tlien with a sudden start, said in 
 a hollow tone—" There will be no grave for thee or thy 
 mother to come and cry over ! " 
 
 " Adam," said Mr Hylton, very anxiously, " weary not 
 thyself thus— alarm not this poor child, by thus yielding to 
 fear and despair; but rather, if it can remember what 
 passeth here this day, may its thoughts be of thy love, and 
 of thy gentleness and piety ! If it be the will of God that 
 thou must die, and that unjustly, as far as men are con- 
 cerned. He will watch over and provide for this little soul, 
 whom He, foreseeing its fate, sent into the world." 
 
 Ayliffe lifted up the child with trembling arms, and 
 pressed its cheeks to his lips. The little creature did not 
 cry, nor appear likely to do so, but appeared the image of 
 mute apprehension. The whole scene was so painful, that 
 Mr Hylton was not sorry when the governor of the gaol 
 approached, to intimate that the interview must cease. The 
 prisoner, exhausted with violent excitement, quietly sur- 
 rendered his child to his attendant, and then silently grasped 
 the hand of Mr Hylton, who thereupon quitted the cell, 
 the door of which was immediately locked upon its miserable 
 occupant — who was once again alone ! 
 
 The inquiries which Mr Hylton had caused to be set on 
 foot, with reference to Hundle, proved to be unproductive. 
 What, indeed, had been the precise object which Mr Hyl- 
 ton had proposed to himself in making them, beyond 
 partially corroborating the statements made by Ayliffe 
 himself at the trial, and whenever he had been interrogated 
 on the subject, that he really had had reason to believe 
 
264 NOW AND THEN. 
 
 that Hundle was to be in the woods, on tlie evening when 
 AjlifFe had gone to He in wait for him ? When questioned 
 on the subject, the prisoner said that he had ascertained the 
 intended visit of Hundle, by happening to overhear a con- 
 versation between him and another, both of whom had 
 agreed to be in the wood in quest of game, as Ayhffe under- 
 stood, on the memorable evening in question ; and it had 
 unhappily occurred to AylifFe, that this would afford him a 
 fitting opportunity, not only of severely chastising Himdle, 
 but of subjecting him to the severe penalties of the law 
 against poaching, by detecting and capturing him in the 
 very act. Mr Hylton secretly hoped that Hundle might 
 have absconded in consequence of Ayliife's statements at 
 the tnal ; but when Mr Wigley rode over to the village 
 where the man resided, for the purpose of making the 
 desired inquiries concernmg him, he was found engaged in 
 his ordinary employment of a farmer's day labourer, one 
 which it seemed that he had never suspended since the 
 disastrous occuiTence which had led to the inquiry. He 
 totally denied, and with an astonished ah' which impressed 
 his interrogator, that he had ever made any such arrange- 
 ment for going to the wood as had been alleged by Ayliffe, 
 or that he had ever dreamed of doing so ; and declared 
 that he was at liis own cottage during the whole of the 
 evening in question, as his mother also emphatically affii'med. 
 He admitted that he had acted a shabby and cruel part 
 towards Ayliffe about the hare, but pleaded the distress of 
 himself and his mother ; and, when asked how he could 
 have supposed that one in such circumstances as those of 
 
NOW AND THEN. 2G5 
 
 AylifFe, could possibly pay any portion of the expected 
 fine, said that he had heard of Ayliffe's having high friends, 
 who would not see him in trouble for a pound or two ; and 
 mentioned the Vicar of Milverstoke as the chief of such 
 friends, having heard AylifFe himself speak of that reverend 
 gentleman in terms of impassioned gratitude and respect. 
 Hundle offered to be confronted with Ayliffe, at any 
 moment, on the subject in question, and voluntarily accom- 
 panied Mr Wigley in quest of the person whom Ayliffe 
 alleged to have concurred with him in his projected expe- 
 dition ; but the man had, some ten days before, it seemed, 
 gone to another part of the country. The only practical 
 result, then, of these inquiries was, so far from being in 
 any degree corroborative of Ayliffe's statement, to give it 
 a flat contradiction ; which unspeakably disheartened and 
 distressed Mr Hylton, tending to paralyse his humane exer- 
 tions — nay, even somewhat to shake his confidence in 
 Ayliffe's truthfulness and innocence. 
 
 The day after that on which Mr Hylton had received 
 this dispiriting information, he resolved to see Ayliffe, and 
 probe his conscience on the subject. Two little incidents 
 occurred to him, on his melancholy ride from Milverstoke to 
 the gaol, which, though insignificant in themselves, yet 
 made a lasting impression upon him. On reaching the cot- 
 tage in which poor Ayliffe's child was living, he dismounted, 
 in order to make his usual weekly payment out of Lady 
 Emily's boimty ; and on entering, found there his good 
 wife, Mrs Hylton, with his little daughter, who was in the 
 act of putting, with childish excitement of manner, a small 
 
266 NOW AND THEN. 
 
 silver token Into the hand of the child ; who, though inca- 
 pable of appreciating the gift, yet smiled upon the little 
 giver with what appeared to Mr Hjlton to be an expres- 
 sion of ineffable sweetness. "And this is the child of the 
 reputed murderer of Lord Alkmond ! " thought he ; and a 
 tear came into his eyes, and he sighed deeply. As he rode 
 along, that poor child's comitenance accompanied him, 
 pleading hard in favour of its miserable parent ! 
 
 When he had gone about two-thirds on his way, he saw 
 at a distance the figure of a man, sitting on a mile-stone, 
 just under a tree — and who should this prove to be but old 
 Ayliffe ! He was not for some time aware of Mr Hylton's 
 approach : the wind, which was very bitter, coming from 
 an opposite direction, and the old man slttmg in a sad and 
 thoughtful attitude, with his eyes bent upon the ground. 
 Mr Hylton stopped for some moments to look at him, 
 much moved, and even startled by the coincidence which 
 had happened — that he, going to see the death-doomed son, 
 in whom his confidence, till then so firm, was beginning to 
 be shaken, should have encountered both the son and father 
 of the condemned, each under circumstances so touching 
 and unlooked-for. 
 
 ]\Ir Hylton had come up \\4th Ayliffe before the latter 
 seemed aware of his approach ; and to his arrested eye, the 
 old man's comitenance appeared invested with an aspect of 
 grandeur. There might be seen in it gloom and grief ; a 
 certain stem composure and dignity, speaking of nature's 
 own nobility. And he had, withal, an appearance so utterly 
 poverty-stricken ! And his features were so pallid and 
 
NOW AND THEN. 267 
 
 wasted! — He had walked upwards of five miles from his 
 cottage to the gaol ; and his wearied limbs required the rest 
 which he was taking — the book which then lay upon his 
 knees being also somewhat weighty for an old man's carry- 
 ing so far. 
 
 He was bringing, he said, in answer to Mr Hylton's 
 inquiries, his own old Bible, to read out of it to his son, at 
 his earnest request ; and intended to leave it with him 
 during the few remaining days of his life. " There is no 
 difference in Bibles, sir," said the old man with sorrowful 
 deliberation of manner, "so each be the pure word of God 
 — that I do well know ; but this one will my poor son weep 
 precious tears to see ; and I shall weep grievously over it, 
 after he is gone !" 
 
 "My excellent, my pious friend," said Mr Hylton, "I go 
 this day again to see your son ; but with heavy heart. 
 How fast is wearing away his time ! and yet I make no 
 advance towards his rescue, or pardon ! No, not one step ! 
 And assuredly I do beUeve that he will die on the day now 
 appointed by the law !" 
 
 "The will of God be done, sir!" exclaimed Ayliffe, 
 taking off his hat as he spoke, and looking reverently 
 and awfully upwards. 
 
 " I grieve to tell you, Adam, that I can do nothing with 
 my Lord Milverstoke, in the way of getting him to say that 
 he doubts, be it never so little ; or of prevailing on him to 
 recommend to mercy !" 
 
 The old man covered his eyes with his hand, and shook 
 his head sadly. After a long pause— "Sir," said he. 
 
2C8 NOW AND THEN. 
 
 speaking in a low broken tone of voice, ^^ he was a father, 
 as yet I am. Some short while ago, he thought as little to 
 lose his only son, as did I to have mine taken horribly from 
 me, as he Avill be, a few days hence. Yet who hath ordered 
 both these things but Almighty God, whose creatures we all 
 be ? And if his Lordship doth verily believe that my son 
 slew his, who shall wonder if he think it right that my poor 
 son should die, according to the law of God and man ! But 
 as for me, my days are now few and bitter, and this is hke to 
 close them somewhat sooner than they would have been. 
 Yet have I not read this Book, which I have here, in vain ; 
 and I bear malice to no man. Alas ! my poor son's own sin 
 first led him into the way that brought him down into this 
 horrible pit ; and God is just, His doings are never to be 
 questioned ; and if the punishment seem to us beyond the sin, 
 that matter leave I humbly to God, who will one day make 
 plain. what He hath done, and why. And often think I 
 what may be said for God's reasons in pemiitting this 
 young noble to be slain, whom verily I believe my poor son 
 slew not ! Soon sir, to all appearance, must they meet face 
 to face, and in the presence of God ; and for such meeting 
 do I daily strive to prepare my son !" 
 
 All this was said, with some few intervals of silence 
 uninternipted by Mr Hylton, who Kstened to the speaker, 
 and gazed at him with thrilling and awe-subduing thoughts. 
 " This man," said he to himself, " has not read that blessed 
 Book in vain ! And oh ! that I, with all mankind, might 
 so read it ! " 
 
KOW AND THEN. ' 2G9 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 On his return to the parsonage that evening, after a brief 
 but affecting interview with the prisoner, who with unvarying 
 and calm consistency reasserted the truth of his statement 
 concerning Hundle, and evinced a sensible improvement in 
 the tone of his feelings, — as his hopes diminished, his 
 resignation increasing, — Mr Hylton found Mr Melcombe 
 impatiently awaiting his arrival, with intelligence of a suf- 
 ficiently exciting character, which had come from London 
 by that afternoon's coach, in a letter from Mr Melcombe's 
 agent. The latter gentleman was a skilful and experienced 
 man ; and instantly on receiving Mr Melcombe's instructions, 
 in a case so calculated to excite his interest and stimulate 
 his energies, had taken the best practicable means of becom- 
 ing acquainted with the arrival at London, or any other 
 port, of the Morning Star. But, above all, he had stationed 
 a clerk, of tact and vigilance, near the Commodore Anson 
 tavern, at Wapping, with instructions to discover and 
 announce the arrival there of John Jevons, or any other 
 person belonging to the Morning Star. The merchant to 
 whom that vessel belonged, had been discovered by Mr 
 Melcombe without difficulty, through information afforded 
 
270 NOW AND THEN. 
 
 by Mr Merton ; and from such owner had been ascertamed 
 beyond a doubt the following highly satisfactory, and ap- 
 parently important information : — That the Morning Star 
 must, on the day in question, have been passing that part 
 of the coast where Milverstoke Castle was situated ; having 
 quitted the port to which she belonged on that morning, 
 and with a fair though intermitting wind ; that John Jevons 
 was the mate ; that there was on board a sailor named 
 HaiTup ; that the place usually frequented by the sailors, in 
 London, was the Commodore Anson ; and that the destina- 
 tion of the vessel had been that which the letter specified. 
 Why, however, the vessel had lain-to when opposite Milver- 
 stoke Castle, except it had been becalmed — and why, more- 
 over, the boat, with Harrup in it, had gone ashore, or 
 whether, indeed, such a fact had happened at all, the owner 
 knew not ; but aware of the cause of the inquiries which 
 were being made on the subject, had promised to afford 
 every information in his power, and at the earliest moment. 
 Now the letter which ]\Ir Melcombe had brought from Lon- 
 don, was from his agent, announcing the arrival, on the 
 preceding evening, of the Morning Star; the discovery, 
 late on the same night, at the Commodore Anson, of Jevons, 
 the mate ; and that the writer had obtained an appointment 
 from the Secretary of State, at his office, for the ensuing 
 morning — when he would be in attendance with Jevons and 
 Harrup ! 
 
 Mr Hylton was so overjoyed and excited by this bright 
 gleam of sunshine (for such he esteemed it) that Mr Mel- 
 combe was forced to remind him of the slight importance 
 
NOW AND THEN. 271 
 
 which, after all, might be attached to these circumstances, 
 by the high authorities in whose hands lay. the fate of the 
 prisoner. Mr Melcombe was not so sanguine a man as Mr 
 Hylton, and of course better acquainted with the practical 
 administration of justice; and when, by means of what he 
 said, there appeared before Mr Hylton's mind's eye, as it 
 were, a pair of scales, in one of which were the proved and 
 admitted facts of the case — and in the other this mere 
 possibility and ground for conjecture — the latter scale seemed, 
 alas ! instantly to kick the beam. Had there been time, 
 Mr Hylton would have started for London to be present at 
 the all-important interview. That, however, being imprac- 
 ticable, he was obliged to wait for information by due course 
 of post ; and, to be sure, on the morning but one after the 
 receipt of the above intelligence, Mr Hylton rode over to 
 Mr Melcombe's office, and read with him the following 
 deeply Interesting letter from his London agent, Mr Burn- 
 ley :— 
 
 ^' Li the matter of Adam Ayllffe, Junior. 
 
 "Pomegranate Court, Temple, 7tli April. 
 
 ^' Dear Sir, 
 
 " I have just come from the Secretary of State's, 
 where we have had an Interview of considerable length, but 
 not (I regret to say) of so satisfactory a character, as far, 
 that Is, as concerns the prisoner's Interests, as could have 
 been desired. His Lordship Is a man of few words, but 
 those prodigiously to the point, and he showed himself per- 
 fectly acquainted with the whole facts and bearings of the 
 
272 XOW AND THEN. 
 
 case. Considering the present tronbled state of public affairs, 
 and the anxiety they occasion, this is greatly to be praised. 
 Mr Under Secretary was present, and also paid close atten- 
 tion, and asked several keen questions. The two men, 
 Jevons and Harrup, (who were had in separately) behaved 
 very properly, though they were somewhat flustered at 
 first ; but Jevons, on seeing the 1-etter, said at once it was 
 his, and explained why he wrote it ; and Hamip said just 
 what it was to have been expected, from the letter, that he 
 would say — namely, that he saw two men rmming along 
 the shore, near the water's edge ; one of whom, he thought, 
 ran faster than the other : he could not tell what sort of 
 clothes they wore, nor whether they carried any thing with 
 them : and on seeing them, and hearing shots above in the 
 wood, and thinking them poachers, he lay on his oars for a 
 moment, and sung out ' Hallo, my hearties ! ' AVhen he 
 had said the substance of all this, my Lord asked him the 
 following pertinent questions : ' Do you know Adam Ayliffe, 
 or any of his family or friends ? ' The man said that he had 
 never even heard of the name — nor ever been at Milver- 
 stoke. ^ How soon after your return to the vessel did you 
 mention to the mate, or to any one else, the things which you 
 have just told us ?' — He answered, directly that he had got 
 on deck, when he said, ' There's been sport going on in yon 
 woods. ' ' Why had you been ashore ? ' — He said, to try to 
 get some carpenter's tools ; having left several of their own 
 behind them, at the port. 'How long had you left the 
 shore, when you saw the men runnmg ? ' — ' About a quarter 
 of an hour.' 'In what direction were they nmnuig?' — 
 
NOW AND THEN. 2 / 3 
 
 ^ Easterly — towards the east.' ' Would that be as if they were 
 going away from J or towards, the wood?' — 'Going away 
 from it. ' ' Does the wood come close down to the shore, or 
 are there cliffs?' — The man could not say ; but Mr Under 
 Secretary said he knew the place himself well, and whispered 
 something to his Lordship which I could not hear. 'Did 
 the man who ran appear to be tall or short ? ' — He had not 
 taken sufficient notice, and it was also too dark to do so. ' Did 
 you think any thing more about this matter after mention- 
 ing it to the mate?' — No ; not till he afterwards heard it 
 talked of. ' When was that ? ' — When they were at Dun- 
 kirk. ' Who mentioned it, and why ? ' — The captain brought 
 a newspaper on board, and spoke to the mate, and they 
 both looked at the log-book, and called him (Harrup) down, 
 and reminded him of it. 'Who first told you of the 
 matter Avhen you came back to London?' — Then he 
 mentioned my clerk, as I explained to his Lordship. ' Was 
 it before or after the firing of the gun that you saw the man 
 running ?' — He thought it was within a very few minutes 
 after. ' How many minutes, do you believe ?' — Perhaps 
 four or five ; or it might be less. ' Did you hear a gun 
 fired more than once?' — He thought twice, but it might 
 have been even three times. ' What hour of the night 
 might this have been, as nearly as you can recollect ? ' — 
 ' About ten o'clock.' Then Harrup was ordered to withdraw. 
 ' Has there been any reward offered by Lord Milverstoke, 
 or the magistrates, for the discovery of any one connected 
 with the transaction?' asked his Lordship of me; and I 
 answered ' No,' Before Jevons was brought in, his Lordship 
 
 T 
 
274 NOW AND THEN. 
 
 asked me, very particularly, what inquiries we had made at 
 Milverstoke, to ascertain whether any one near the seashore 
 had observed persons running on the occasion in question. 
 I told him what we had done, reading him your last letter 
 to me, announcing that you could learn nothing on the subject. 
 AYlien Jevons was called in, he gave, as I have already said, 
 a clear and plain account of how he came to write the letter, 
 disclaimed all knowledge of the AylifFes, and knew but little 
 of Milverstoke. Neither he nor any one on board had heard 
 the soimd of gun-shot from shore. His Lordship asked, 
 very quietly, two or three acute questions, designed to detect 
 any material difference between the accounts of those parts 
 of the transaction which both must have observed ; but I never 
 heard any person answer more satisfactorily than Jevons did ; 
 it could have left no doubt in any one's mind, that whatever 
 might be the value or effect of the evidence, it was given 
 truly and honafide. Then Jevons was ordered to withdraw ; 
 and, after a few moments' silence, his Lordship said, 
 addressing Mr Under Secretary and me — ' All that we have 
 just heard might, had it been known at the time of the trial, 
 possibly have been fit to lay before the jury ; but they might 
 have deemed it immaterial or irrelevant, or as showing only 
 that possibly others were concerned, icitli the 'prisoner^ in the 
 murder — they escaping, and he happening to be detected : 
 his guilt being, of course, in either case the same. But 
 the persons represented as running along the shore may 
 have had nothing whatever to do with the murder, nor known 
 any thing about it : what a slight foundation,' these were his 
 Lordship's words, ' for so large a superstructure ! The 
 
NOW AND THEN. 275 
 
 Lord Chief Justice, however,' continued his Lordship, ' will 
 be seen, and shown the notes of what has taken place this 
 morning (a clerk had set down every thing as it went on ;) 
 and, in the mean time, those two persons who have been here 
 to-day should be forthcoming, if required. I think it right 
 to intimate to you,' said his Lordship to me, ' for communi- 
 cation to the prisoner's friends, that, as I am at present 
 advised, I see no grounds for delaying, beyond the period 
 now fixed, the carrying into effect the sentence of the law. 
 I regard the evidence adduced at the tiial as of rare cogency 
 and, in truth, irresistible. There is, however, one matter 
 not mentioned to-day, on which it is desirable to communicate 
 with the Lord Chief Justice ; and in the mean tune you will 
 be pleased to leave here the address of the clergyman who 
 has taken so much interest in this case, and who called on 
 me and on the Lord Chief Justice upon this subject.' From 
 his Lordship's manner, I should not be surprised if the 
 reverend gentleman were to have a communication made 
 to him respecting some matter which he may have mentioned 
 to the Lord Chief Justice. The moment that I have any 
 thing new, you may rely on hearing from me: and 
 meanwhile I am, 
 
 " Your very faithful servant, 
 
 " Jonathan Burnley." 
 " P. S. — As you intend to take no costs in this case, nor 
 shall I — regarding it as a matter of humanity. At the same 
 time, if funds be provided by those well able to afford it, I 
 think it would be not unreasonable for both you and me to 
 be reimbursed the money which we may actually expend on 
 
276 iVOW AND THEN. 
 
 the occasion, but, equally with yourself, I will not hear of 
 any thing further." 
 
 The " matter not mentioned to-day," to which the Secre- 
 tary of State had referred, Mr Hylton perfectly understood ; 
 and the allusion to it threw him into a brief but extremely 
 anxious reverie. He had not felt himself at liberty to com- 
 mmiicate the point to which Lord Farnborough must have 
 alluded, to ^Ir Melcombe, whose inquiries concerning the 
 matter on the present occasion he easily parried. Both 
 he and Mr Melcombe were somewhat dashed in spirit by the 
 foregoing letter. Neither of them could deny the weight 
 which there was in the Secretary of State's observations. 
 As for the prospect of being able to extort from Lord Mil- 
 verstoke an explanation of the mysterious conversation at 
 the banqueting-table, and, above all, permission to com- 
 municate it to the Secretary of State, Mr Hylton had re- 
 garded it as being quite as much out of the question as pro- 
 curing his Lordship to join in a recommendation to mercy. 
 Ought he, indeed, under all the dreadful circumstances of 
 the case, to be pressed upon such a subject ? It required no 
 small amount of firmness even to contemplate making the 
 effort. Momentous as were the interests which a strong 
 sense of duty had impelled Mr Hylton to take into his keep- 
 ing — the saving an innocent man from the blighting death 
 of the guilty — he nevertheless could not regard the unfor- 
 tunate Earl of Milver stoke otherwise than as an object of 
 profound sympathy ; as one whose grieved and harassed 
 heart should not be assailed with rude intrusiveness, but 
 
NOW AND THEN. 277 
 
 approached with the delicacy and deference due to the ter- 
 rible sufferings with which it had pleased the wisdom of 
 God to visit him. If Mr Hylton verily believed in Ayliffe's 
 innocence, he remembered that it was still in a somewhat 
 daring disregard of all those appearances and facts which 
 abundantly justified, not only the Earl of Milverstoke, but 
 every dispassionate impartial person, in believing Ayllffe to 
 be really guilty of that cowardly and savage murder, of 
 which he had been openly, and fairly, convicted by a court 
 of justice. What father might not be expected to act 
 similarly, if similarly situated? To the Earl, Mr Hylton had 
 himself most expressly admitted, that if he had felt satisfied 
 of Ayliffe's guilt, he would not interpose to shield a mur- 
 derer from that punishment with which the law of both 
 God and man visited his crime. Mr Hylton had brought 
 himself to disbeHeve in Ayliffe's guilt ; but how was he to 
 bring to that conviction the cruelly bereaved father, the 
 Earl of Milverstoke ? To attempt to coerce an understand- 
 ing so clear and powerful as his ? For, indeed, of this Mr 
 Hylton sometimes feared that his efforts were falling but 
 little short. Yet he inwardly disclaimed, as equally absurd, 
 insulting, cruel, and hopeless, all design to influence the 
 feelings of Lord Milverstoke, independently of his judg- 
 ment. Mr Hylton was justly entitled to place much 
 reliance on his own understanding, which was really of a 
 superior order ; yet he often apprehensively asked himself 
 what degree of confidence was he NOW— at this late stage 
 of the affair— warranted in reposing in his own judgment, 
 running counter as it did to that of the Lord Chief Justice 
 
278 KOW AND THEN. 
 
 and the Secretcaiy of State, neither of them, surely, incap- 
 able of forming that judgment, or biassed by partiality or 
 any assignable improper motive whatever ; both of them, 
 moreover, being men of high intellectual power, of great 
 experience, and most humanely disposed. Fortified by their 
 unshaken conclusions, did not the Earl of Milverstoke stand 
 as it were upon a rock ; and might he not well be excused 
 for repulsing Mr Hylton's pertinacious efforts, with a kind 
 of impatient scorn and indignation ? These were reflections 
 occasioning him increasing anxiety and misgiving, especially 
 Avith reference to what he feared to have been the unau- 
 thorised use which he had made, with the Lord Chief 
 Justice, of Captain Lutteridge's intimation concerning an 
 alleged occurrence at the Earl of Milverstoke's own table, 
 and which it was sought by Mr Hylton to connect, in spite 
 of representations to the contrary, with the death of Lord 
 Alkmond. How injurious and unwarrantable must not 
 this appear to the Earl ! and this too, as he saw by Mr 
 Burnley's letter, the Lord Chief Justice had communicated 
 to the Secretary of State ; who seemed, in consequence of 
 it, evidently about to take some step or other which might 
 place Mr Hylton in a position of greatly aggravated and 
 alarming embarrassment and responsibility. And his fears 
 were abundantly justified by the event ; for, on the morning 
 after Mr Melcombe's visit, Mr Hylton received by post a 
 letter, wearing an ofiicial aspect, addressed " To the Rev. 
 Henry Hylton, at the Vicarage, Milverstoke ; " with the 
 name of the Secretary of State, " Farnborough," in the 
 corner, sealed with his seal of office, and bearing the 
 
NOW AND THEN. 279 
 
 authoritative words ^' On his Majesty's Service. Imme- 
 diatey A little fluttered bj the sight of this formidable 
 missive, Mr Hylton withdrew with it into his library, Avhere 
 he opened it and read as follows : — 
 
 "London, 15th April. 
 
 ^' Reverend Sir, 
 
 " I am directed by Lord Farnborough to communicate 
 with you upon a matter of considerable difficulty, and also 
 of pressing urgency ; as it relates to the case of a prisoner, 
 Adam AylifFe, capitally convicted at the last Assizes for 
 your county, of the murder of the late Lord Viscount 
 Alkmond, and now awaiting execution on the 18th mstant, 
 having been respited till that day by the Lord Chief Justice, 
 in consequence of representations made by you to his Lord- 
 ship, on the day ensuing that of the sentence. Lord 
 Farnborough has bestowed the greater attention on this 
 case, in consequence of the illness and absence from London 
 of the Lord Chief Justice, with whom, however, his Lord- 
 ship some days ago fully conferred on the subject. And I 
 am now to recall to your recollection one particular ground 
 proposed by you to the Lord Chief Justice for delaying 
 execution on the prisoner. You represented, in a very con- 
 fident manner, that if time were afforded, you might be able 
 to discover the existence of facts at present enveloped in 
 mystery, the tendency of which was (unless you have been 
 misunderstood) to connect the death of the deceased Lord 
 Alkmond with matters which were not brought to notice at 
 
280 NOW AND THEN. 
 
 the trial. You are further reported to have intimated, that 
 the persons able to afford such information are of rank and 
 station, indisposed to speak of the matter, at present, from 
 scruples of delicacy, fearing the imputation of a breach of 
 confidence. You also further stated, that the person to 
 whom jou had ah'eady spoken, and promised again to 
 apply, had expressed an opinion (in which you yourself, as 
 you stated, had heard sufficient to prevent your concurrence) 
 that the information, when obtained, would prove to have 
 no bearmg on the case, relating, though it did, to the late 
 Lord Alkmond's quittmg Milverstoke Castle at a very 
 unusual hour, and under very unusual circumstances, for 
 the wood in which he was so shortly afterwards found 
 murdered. I am directed to draw your most serious atten- 
 tion to the responsibility attaching both to persons making 
 these communications, and to those who have it in their 
 power to prove, at once, that these suggestions and repre- 
 sentations are either well founded, or totally groundless. 
 A peculiarly painful responsibility is, moreover, thus cast on 
 those whose duty it is to direct the administration of justice, 
 and advise His Majesty in a matter of life and death. As 
 a clergyman and magistrate, you need not be reminded of 
 what Lord Farnborough is entitled to expect from you 
 under these critical circumstances : and you are requested, 
 without a moment's delay, to furnish his Lordship with such 
 infomiation as may be acted upon, one way or the other. 
 And Lord Farnborough directs me to inform you finally, 
 that in the absence of any further communication from yon. 
 
NOW AND THEN. 281 
 
 or of intelligence, relating to this subject, of a nature 
 decisively favourable to the prisoner, the present respite 
 will not be extended. 
 
 " I have the honour to remain, 
 
 " Reverend Sir, 
 
 '' Your very faithful, and most obedient servant, 
 
 '' J. C. L. Wylmington. 
 
 " The Reverend Henry Hylton, /'^ ^ 
 
 .-Vicar of Milve^toke." |^^,.^^^gj^^ 
 
 '''-''TJie present respite will not he extended T — 0\\^_^^ 
 words of portentous significance!" exclaimed Mr Hylton 
 aloud, in a despairing way, as, having finished reading the 
 letter, he leaned back in his chair, in dire dismay and 
 perplexity. What had sprung up out of his own unjusti- 
 fiable precipitation ! for by no gentler name could he then 
 characterise what he had done in making to the Lord 
 Chief Justice the communication of which that eminent 
 and conscientious functionary had felt it his duty to apprise 
 the Minister intrusted with the executive authority of the 
 State ; and whom the above letter of the Under Secretary 
 showed to have been plunged into deep anxiety by such 
 communication. One of the first things that recurred to 
 Mr Hylton's recollection, was the Earl of Milverstoke's 
 peremptory and emphatic assurance to him, that the matter 
 spoken of by Captain Lutteridge could have no bearing 
 whatever upon the question of the prisoner's guilt or hmo- 
 cence : and so had, in the very first instance, said Captain 
 Lutteridge himself! Had it thus become Mr Hylton's 
 
282 NOW AND THEN. 
 
 duty, without harassing- the Earl any more, to act upon his 
 dehberate assurance, and write off to the Secretary of State, 
 frankly abandoning as untenable the plea for delay which 
 had called forth his Lordship's letter? But suppose he 
 should do so, AylifFe be executed, and it were to be after- 
 wards discovered that the matter in question had a bearmg, 
 and a vital bearing, upon the question of his guilt or inno- 
 cence — showed that, whoever else might have committed 
 this mysterious murder, Ayliffe had not ; and that he had 
 been hanged in spite of his vehement and unwavering 
 denial of guilt and assertion of innocence, and without a 
 stain on his previous character to lend colour to so frightful 
 a charge as that in respect of which he had unjustly 
 suffered ? Was not that a possibility sufficient to make the 
 most stout-hearted man shudder ? Was, then, Mr Hylton 
 again to importune the Earl upon the subject ? to show him 
 the letter from the Secretary of State ? and leave with his 
 Lordship the painful responsibility of withholding the 
 desired information ? Suppose he should demand from Mr 
 Hylton, why he had not at once conveyed to the authorities, 
 with whom he had been so busily commimicating, the EarFs 
 own deliberate and emphatic declaration on the subject? 
 
 Mr Hylton was a courageous man, and of inflexible 
 firmness of purpose ; yet he contemplated another interview 
 with the Earl with grave, very grave, anxiety. Fear he 
 knew not; but what was not due to the feelings of the 
 father of a murdered son ? And had not Lord Milverstoke 
 movingly acknowledged to him that, though the conversa- 
 tion of which he was in quest had no bearing on the dread- 
 
NOW AND THEN. 283 
 
 fill murder of his son, yet was it so connected with other 
 associations and recollections as to occasion his Lordship 
 exquisite pain in adverting to it? Agam; had not the 
 Secretary of State addressed to him weighty matter ; and 
 was he not entitled to the prompt and decisive answer which 
 he had demanded ; and the refusal or neglect to afford which, 
 would plainly absolve him from all kind of responsibility, 
 and a thousand-fold augment that which already rested upon 
 others ? Again ; Mr Hylton was beginning to regard with 
 intense disfavour and repugnance this attempt to extort and 
 divulge private conversation, that which had passed in the 
 unrestrained freedom of fancied security, the confidential 
 intercourse of private life. It required the conviction of 
 some positive and overwhelming necessity to overcome such 
 feelings in the breast of a gentleman — and a gentleman, 
 indeed, and of pure and high feelings, was Mr Hylton. But 
 all this while poor Adam AyHffe was lying in irons, broken- 
 hearted, and drawing nearer HOURLY to the ignominious 
 agonies and horrors of the scaffold ! What was to he done ? 
 indeed. Mr Hylton, conscious of the purity of his motives, 
 and yet perceivmg the thick darkness which seemed to lie 
 upon the path of duty, humbly commended himself and his 
 proceedings to God, and besought His assistance, that he 
 might not, from mistaken motives, be blindly and rashly 
 attempting to thwart the will of Providence ; and instead of 
 furthering the ends of justice, frustrate and pervert its efforts 
 to attain them. For suppose, after all, that Ayliffe were 
 falsely protesting his innocence, had really slain Lord Alk- 
 mond in mistake for another, or — horrid thought ! — had. 
 
284 NOW AND THEN. 
 
 through Mr Oxley's proceedings, fallen into a mortal frenzy 
 of hatred against the Earl of Milverstoke and his son, and 
 resolved to wreak his vengeance on both or either as 
 opportunity offered ? How many had gone to the scaffold 
 as loudly protesting their innocence as at present did Ayliffe, 
 and concerning whose guilt there yet never was even a 
 shadow of doubt ! Distracted by these considerations, he 
 folded up the letter, placed it in his pocket-book, ordered his 
 horse, and resolved to go straightway and take counsel with 
 quiet and judicious Mr Melcombe. After having gone a 
 little way past the road which led to the barracks, " Why," 
 said Mr Hylton to himself, suddenly stopping his horse — 
 " Why should I not try my fate again with Captain Lut- 
 teridge?" He remained stationary for several minutes, 
 and then, turning his horse's head, rode up to the barracks; 
 resolved to read to the Captain the letter of the Secretary 
 of State, and see what new view of the case it might present 
 to that straightforward and well-meaning officer. The 
 Captain received him with a sort of bluff caution ; that of a 
 plain unsuspecting man, who, feeling that he had, somehow 
 or other, got himself into difficulties on former occasions, 
 was now at all events resolved to present no salient points 
 of attack. Mr Hylton, with whom time was becoming 
 momentarily more precious, came to the subject of his ap- 
 plication at once ; assuring the Captain that he, Mr Hylton, 
 had taken no steps of any kind since they had met on the 
 last occasion ; but that the affair on which he had honoured 
 himself by then speaking to the Captain, had suddenly 
 assumed a more serious aspect than ever. 
 
NOW AND THEN. 285 
 
 " This, sir, in short, is a quandary ; one you have got 
 into, and must get out of," said the Captain, in a matter-of- 
 fact manner ; '' and how do you intend doing it ? I can't 
 help you. We military people generally, you see, look a 
 hair's-breadth or so beyond our noses, if one may so 
 speak, in the moves we make — considering not only how 
 to advance, but how to retreat ; not only, do you see, how 
 to get to a place, but, by Jupiter — forgive me, sir ! — what 
 to do when there — and then, how to get back again ! " 
 
 " I cannot deny. Captain Lutteridge," said Mr Hylton, 
 with a very harassed air, " that I feel myself in a terrible 
 perplexity " — 
 
 "Then give me, so please you, your hand," said the 
 Captain, advancing to him cordially, with his right arm 
 extended. " You know what my opinion was, t'other day, 
 when you gave me the honour of a visit ; and I thought, 
 
 by ! hem! I ask your pardon, sir — but — eh, sir? Has 
 
 any thing new come of it ? " 
 
 "I have received, within this hour," said Mr Hylton, 
 seriously, while he opened his pocket-book and took out the 
 Secretary of State's letter, '' a communication of such weight 
 and consequence, that I shall leave it to speak for itself, 
 Captain Lutteridge." 
 
 " All about that abominable vagabond, I suppose, who " — 
 
 "Captain Lutteridge," said Mr Hylton, with touching 
 
 dignity of manner, " you pain me indeed. Why should 
 
 you, an officer, a man of birth, a gentleman, use language 
 
 such as this towards a poor wretch at this moment shivering 
 
 . in irons, and expecting hourly to die an unjust death, as I 
 
286 KOW AND THEN. 
 
 believe it will be, since, as I have told you, I think him 
 innocent?" 
 
 " I ask jour pardon, reverend sir," said the Captain, 
 courteously ; '' but do not forget that we think differently 
 about this affair — at least, you and Lord Milverstoke do. 
 As for me," he added, Avith a look of sudden vexation, 
 ^' little care I, truly, whether this gentleman live or die ! " 
 
 ^' This is the document I spoke of, Captain. AVill you 
 read it ?" said Mr Hylton with a sigh : and his companion 
 immediately took the letter, reading every Ime of it as scru- 
 pulously as though it had been some death-warrant addressed 
 to, and requiring execution by, himself. "Phew! Phew! 
 sir ! " he exclaimed, or rather whistled, when he had finished 
 reading the letter, down even to the signature; "by this 
 time you must be somewhat sick of this busmess ! Well, I 
 do say, not intending disrespect to civilians, least of all to 
 your cloth — but — give me^ reverend sir, a military trial, and 
 a quick death according to order, without questions asked 
 after the court hath broke up ! It saves a world of trouble 
 — all such as this you are giving yourself, and occasioning 
 others too !" 
 
 " But — forgive me. Captain — what say you to the sub- 
 stance of this letter ? Is my tongue to be tied, and is yours, 
 and this man to die, therefore, possibly unjustly?" 
 
 "Why, sir, as to the letter, what is the Secretary of 
 State to my Lord Milverstoke or me ? Can he force open 
 our lips ? No ; nor fifty Lords Farnborough, sir ! " 
 
 " But I trust you see now how careful I was, with both 
 my Lord Farnborough and the Chief Justice, to say no- 
 
NOW AND THEN. 287 
 
 thiug, till authorised, about persons or places, as well as 
 tilings?" 
 
 ^'Tliat, sir, of course, you would be," interposed the 
 Captain, somewhat sarcastically. 
 
 "But let me ask," continued Mr Hylton, "supposing this 
 letter had been addressed to you^ Captain, and you were in 
 my place — what answer would you give ?" 
 
 "Why, sir, I would not have put myself in your place, 
 do you see ; for I should have deemed myself to be (which 
 doubtless you, reverend sir, by reason of your holy cloth, 
 are not) meddling somewhat." 
 
 "But, Captain Lutteridge, I implore an answer — time 
 presses frightfully !" 
 
 " Why, you see, sir, I am a soldier, and you a parson, 
 reverend sir: therefore" — the Captain paused; the conse- 
 quence, of which he had indicated the approach, not appear- 
 ing, or presenting itself, exactly when he wished it. 
 
 " I must, in virtue of the sacred office which I hold, and 
 of which you have reminded me. Implore you to let no 
 imaginary notions of honour" — 
 
 "Honour! — honour imaginary! I give you my word, 
 reverend sir, that I never heard any thing so monstrous fall 
 from man before ! " said the Captain, with an amazed air. 
 
 " Oh, sir, I neither thought, nor said, aught that you could 
 except to," replied Mr Hylton. " No man values honour more 
 than I ; nor do I think any man living can have a truer, keener 
 sense of it than you. Captain Lutteridge : all I dread is, lest, 
 while you strain honour too far, a fellow-creature be sacrificed. ' ' 
 
 "What would you then, reverend sir," inquired the 
 
288 NOW AND THEN. 
 
 Captain, somewhat appeased, "mth me, now, after what has 
 before passed between us ? For I do protest that I know 
 not ! Say plainly, sii' !" 
 
 ''This being an imminent matter of life and death," said 
 Mr Hylton, after a pause, " do you feel yom-self at liberty 
 to authorise me, if I should deem it proper, to communicate 
 to the Secretary of State what you told me before I went 
 up to London?" 
 
 "Xo, sir," replied the Captain, quietly. 
 "Is that really your final determination, dear Captain?" 
 inquired Mr Hylton, with such a kind of intensity in his 
 manner, as quite touched the soldier's heart. 
 
 "Upon my w^ord of honour, sir," he replied, earnestly, 
 " I really fear it is. You see, sir, I have often talked over 
 this matter with my brother officers ; and we all, being bred 
 alike, think alike. Where one's own honour, and another 
 man's life, are in conflict, what the deuce to do we know 
 not. AVe made not honour : it is made for us ; it governs 
 us all, or ought ; and it shall govern me, and be obeyed, so 
 help^hem ! I beg your pardon, sir, for what I was going 
 to say, but did not, you being a clergyman." 
 
 "I am distracted!" said Mr Hylton, pressing liis hand 
 to his forehead. 
 
 " So methinks, with much respect, " quoth the impene- 
 trable soldier, "you have good reason to be, reverend sir. 
 Look you at the way in which you have fixed eveiy body : 
 my Lord Milverstoke, my Lord Famborough, me — but 
 most especially yourself! Surely, good sir, it was not I 
 that did all this ! " 
 
NOW AND THEN. 289 
 
 ^'True, true, Captain," replied Mr Hylton, with a melan- 
 choly air, and sighing deeply; ^'and yet, had you not 
 yourself, with all a soldier's honourable frankness, first 
 volunteered to tell me all this" — 
 
 ^' Piff ! Paff ! — Phew ! " exclaimed the Captain, suddenly 
 starting up as if he had just received a pistol-shot. " Why, 
 sir — egad — you are right ! What you say is quite true ! " 
 Captain Lutteridge stood rubbing his chin, and gazing 
 earnestly, in perturbed silence, at Mr Hylton. " Why, 
 hang me, sir, if it is not I that have put you, and every 
 body else, into a false position!" He paused, gazing at 
 Mr Hylton with the look of a man astounded by some 
 sudden discovery. " Sir, in his Majesty's service there is not, 
 I do believe, a greater fool at this moment than am I, 
 Captain Lutteridge. The devil hath this day suddenly 
 paid me off, handsomely, a somewhat long score. I beseech 
 you, reverend sir, in this horrible state that I am in, tell me 
 what should I do ? I own all this never occurred to me, 
 nor those that I have talked with on the subject ! I wonder 
 my brother-officers yonder never thought of it ; for as for 
 myself, I am a fool — an arrant fool ! Sir — I — I beg your 
 pardon, for putting you into all this difficulty !" 
 
 "My dear Captain," said Mr Hylton, mildly, having 
 waited till the Captain's excitement had a little abated, " I 
 really meant not to suggest any thing of this kind : it did 
 not occur to me " — 
 
 '' Oh yes, it did, sir ; but you were too civil to say it. I stand 
 an ass, sir — a very ass before you ! And what the deuce 
 
 u 
 
290 NOW AND THEN. 
 
 to do I know not ; yet, on my honour, I never meant to do 
 any thing but what was proper and humane." 
 
 " Still, Captain, let us not overlook the real difficulty of 
 the case, nor forget what is due to yourself, and also to me, 
 as men of honour, as well as of humanity and religion. It 
 is I that have entailed all this perplexity, by my unauthor- 
 ised communication of what you had so frankly told me, in 
 your love of justice and fair play. I may have erred in 
 what I did — but what else could I have done? I was 
 forced to leave by that night's coach, or all would have been 
 in vain; and had I not made some use of what you had 
 told me, I might as well have stayed here. And when I 
 came back, and poor Ayliffe's body was swinging m the air, 
 you might have reproached me for my false honour and 
 punctilio, and (for aught I could then have known) might 
 have said that, in a matter like this, your delicacy would 
 have given way." 
 
 " Sir, there's no gainsaying it. What a puzzle you must 
 have been m. Sometimes, it seems, things will so turn out, 
 that no man can possibly know how to act ; and then the 
 only thing is, to do nothing, which can never be wrong." 
 
 " Oh, Captain, Captain ! cannot it ! Look at this case — 
 this very case ! " 
 
 " I don't know, for the life of me, what to do ! " said 
 Captain Lutteridge, walking hastily up and down the room. 
 '' Let me, sir, read the letter again. It is a somewhat long- 
 winded roundabout despatch. Methinks I could have said 
 as much in twenty words." He read it over pretty rapidly. 
 
NOW AND THEN. 291 
 
 " One tiling, sir, it shows, that you certainly acted hand- 
 somely at headquarters, in not committing one whom you 
 had no right to commit." 
 
 " Indeed, Captain, I so deeply appreciated your disinte- 
 rested and noble anxiety to assist the cause of justice and 
 humanity, that I was doubly — trebly — on my guard." 
 '' Quite correct, sir, to be so — quite." 
 " Now, suppose, dear Captain, that you had happened to 
 be in London at the time, and had thoughts of going at 
 once to headquarters to prevent injustice — fatal, irreparable 
 injustice — in this matter, being unwittingly done, don't 
 you think you might have said just as much to my Lord 
 Chief Justice as you did to me? — and felt that Lord 
 Milverstoke could have no right to interfere in such a case 
 of life and death as ought to be left to every man's own 
 conscience, alone, to deal with?" 
 
 '' There's no knowing what a man might do when sud- 
 denly pushed, and off his guard. But, for the matter of 
 this letter,"— he tm-ned to it again,—" it seems that you 
 handsomely told the Judge what I said, that I thought the 
 matter in question had no bearing on the case." 
 
 " I did, most distinctly, most emphatically." 
 
 " But, forgive me, reverend sir, — how came you to say, 
 thereupon, that you differed with me?" 
 
 " Pardon me, dear Captain ; I thought I was right in 
 doing so. It appeared to me that, at a point of time so 
 all-important as that of Lord Alkmond's quitting the Castle 
 for the wood" — 
 
 " That, sir, is what I so marvel— have always marvelled— 
 
292 NOW AND THEN. 
 
 at. What possible bearing — pshaw ! — what could duelling 
 have to do with this vagabond and Lord" — 
 
 '' Duelling I " echoed Mr Hylton, with a great start : while 
 Captain Lutteridge sprang clean out of the chair in which 
 he had the moment before sat down, and slapped his hand 
 desperately on his mouth, as though he would have forced 
 back the words which had leaped forth, never to return. 
 
 " Did I say duelling f " commenced the Captain, in a low 
 tone, after a long gasp, and staring amazedly at his com- 
 panion, who looked equally astounded. 
 
 '•'■ Yes, you did, Captain Lutteridge ! " said Mr Hylton, 
 in an absent manner — having fallen into a deep reverie. 
 
 The Captain stood still, his eyes fixed on the floor, in 
 silence. 
 
 " Bah ! " at length he exclaimed, with such a violent 
 stamp of his foot that the floor quivered under it. " I — 
 I — look on this as a stroke of fate, sir !" said he, approach- 
 ing Mr Hylton with a desperate air, his face quite flushed. 
 " We don't part, reverend sir, till we have agreed on 
 what is to be done with the word that hath thus accursedly 
 jumped out from me," continued the Captain, hastily going 
 to the door, which he locked, and took out of it the key. 
 Then he strode to the fire-place, and gave Mr Hylton, in 
 passing, a furious glance. " Look you, sir, we soldiers are 
 plain people ; and if you, being one cunning in speech, 
 came hither to lay a trap for me" — 
 
 " Captain Lutteridge," replied Mr Hylton, calmly, " your 
 language shows that you labour under sudden excitement. 
 Do you, now that I remind you of your expressions, really 
 
NOW AND THEN. 293 
 
 mean, sii', to insinuate that I, a Christian minister, and, I 
 trust, a gentleman also, could, under any conceivable cir- 
 cumstances whatever, stoop to the baseness of inveigling 
 you into a breach of confidence? I forgive you, Cap- 
 tain Luttendge, and also the gross and, saving your 
 presence, vulgar indignity," continued Mr Hylton, point- 
 ing sternly to the door, " which you have just perpetrated 
 upon me." 
 
 " Mr Hylton — reverend sir — I — ^beg your pardon ; I — 
 ask forgiveness, having quite forgotten myself, and you 
 too," said Captain Lutteridge, bowing profoundly, while 
 the colour a little deserted his cheek ; and hastily stepping 
 to the door, he unlocked and threw it open. Then, return- 
 ing to Mr Hylton, he resumed — " You are as free as air, sir : 
 free to go whither you please ; to say, to do, Avhat you 
 please, sir — any where — to any body. You are a gentle- 
 man, sir ; and I, an officer, have not, I fear, acted just now 
 as became an officer and a gentleman." 
 
 Nothing could exceed the soldier-like simplicity, gravity, 
 and fine spirit, with which all this was said by Captain 
 Lutteridge. 
 
 "'Tis all forgiven — forgotten: it is as though it had 
 never happened, my dear Captain," replied Mr Hylton ; 
 ^' and I shall deem myself honoured if you will suffer me 
 to shake you by the hand, for whose character I have 
 already learned to feel great admiration. I never saw one 
 whom I believed to be actuated by nobler motives — of that 
 be assured ; and as for this strange word that has escaped 
 you, it is buried Aere"— he placed his right hand on his 
 
294 NOW AND THEN. 
 
 heart — " it Is considered by me, already, as utterly un- 
 spoken." 
 
 ^' Most excellent and reverend sir, give me your hand ! " 
 said Captain Lutteridge, almost with tears m his eyes, grasp- 
 ing the proffered hand of Mr Hylton. " I never came in 
 my life near one that behaved with such handsomeness, by 
 — I beg pardon, su' ! But I never did ! And I am begin- 
 ning, I know not how, to take quite a different view of the 
 entire matter. By Jove, sir, your whole conduct on behalf 
 of this poor wretch is disinterested and great, beyond utter- 
 ance. The trouble you have taken — what you have put up 
 with while doing all that you have done, no one thinks so 
 highly of as your humble, unworthy servant. Captain Lut- 
 teridge ; and God himself only can reward you, for He put 
 it all in your heart to do ! Sir — I — I almost begin to think 
 this man — Heaven forgive me for calling him a vagabond, 
 poor wretch ! — must be, as you say, imiocent — though his case 
 has, it must be owned, a desperate ugly look, or you would 
 not have been led to do all you have done ; but if he he inno- 
 cent" — the Captain paused for a moment — " I have been 
 all this while doing my best to tie the rope round his neck! " 
 While Captain Lutteridge was saying all this, Mr Hylton 
 appeared to be attentively listening to him in silence ; but 
 his mind was closely engaged with the subject which had 
 been suggested to it, by the pregnant word which had fallen 
 from Captain Lutteridge — Duelling ! — Duelling ? Had tliat^ 
 then, been the topic which Lord Alkmond could not bear to 
 hear talked of, and by which he had been so much agitated, 
 as Captain Lutteridge had represented ? Why go out into 
 
NOW AND THEN. 295 
 
 the wood — and directly from the banquetlng-table ? The 
 more Mr Hylton thought of it — and his ideas sprung up and 
 followed one another with lightning rapidity — the greater 
 were his amazement and anxiety ; for he recollected Lord 
 Milver stoke 's agitation on the subject being mentioned ; his 
 Lordship's acknowledgment that it occasioned him great 
 agony, from reasons of which, as he had said, Mr Hylton 
 could have no notion ; and his Lordship's solemn declaration 
 that it had no connexion with, or bearing upon, the awful 
 bereavement which he had suffered. And, again, what 
 reason could there be for his stem refusal to allow the mat- 
 ter to be communicated to the official authorities, even in 
 so grave a case as that affecting the life of a fellow-crea- 
 ture ? And he had said, moreover, that it might, if talked 
 about, afford matter for injurious and harassing gossip and 
 speculation ! He was thus getting deeper and deeper into 
 gloomy speculation, when Captain Lutteridge's last words, 
 alluding to the rope round Ayliffe's neck, startled Mr Hyl- 
 ton out of his reverie. 
 
 " True — certainly. Captain Lutteridge," said he, as if 
 still somewhat confounded by the course of his own bewil- 
 dering reflections ; " but that single word which you have 
 so naturally let fall, at a moment when you were off your 
 guard, has plunged me headlong into a sea of conjecture and 
 perplexity. I own myself utterly at a loss how to connect 
 this conversation with the death of poor Lord Alkmond ; 
 and consider you warranted (for all that at present occurs to 
 me) in your frequent assertion that there really was no such 
 
296 NOW AND THEN. 
 
 " That may all be, sir, and perhaps is really so ; but 
 now the point is, what must be done herein ? Any thing 
 nothing?" 
 
 " Were I disposed to make any use, and you to permit 
 me, of the information which I now possess" — 
 
 ^' Get Lord Milverstoke's leave, and the thing is done ! 
 If his Lordship care not, I am sure 1 don't." 
 
 " But what if his Lordship should hear that which has 
 happened here to-day. Captain Lutteridge ?" 
 
 '' What if he do ? It will make him angry, very angry, 
 mth me ; but that I cannot help. He may curse my folly, 
 but cannot question my honour: and what say you, by 
 Jove, sir, to my going myself to my Lord Milver stoke, and 
 plainly telling him what has happened? If it will serve 
 your purpose in this strait that you are in, why, I will go at 
 once, and within an hour's time his Lordship shall know all 
 that has happened, and do as he pleases." 
 
 " Kesolution such as yours cannot be daunted, I see, my 
 dear Captain ; and I entreat you, then, to do as you pro- 
 pose ; and in justice to me, explain how it fell out, without 
 effort of mine, and that I will, of course, neither say a 
 word, nor take a step, till I have his Lordship's consent to 
 do so." 
 
 '' I will do all this, and the sooner the better : and why 
 may I not tell him of Lord Farnborough's letter? I'm sure 
 there's nothing can come of it, though. Men don't fight 
 duels with bludgeons, and at night-time, eh? And strike 
 from behind, too ? You don't suppose any thing so wild as 
 all that ? Had my Lord Alkmond been stabbed or shot, the 
 
NOW AND THEN. 297 
 
 case might have looked somewhat different. But duelling 
 was doubtless the thing talked of that night, and a bloody 
 duel was spoken of, too, that had no long time before taken 
 place. All this, however, let us see what my Lord Milver- 
 stoke will say to. He, for aught I know^, may let you go 
 up to London with your news, and make what you can of 
 it. 'Tis a hopeful case, truly ; but here is my horse, and 
 within an hour shall I learn what his Lordship hath to say 
 concerning this my folly." 
 
 The Captain and Mr Hylton then mounted their horses ; 
 the former galloping off towards ^lilverstoke Castle, the 
 latter to the town where Mr Melcombe resided, with whom 
 he was more anxious than ever to confer on the subject of 
 the Secretary of State's letter. 
 
298 KOW AND THEN. 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 As Mr Hylton rode along, he felt a miserable suspicion 
 strengthening in his mind, that the mystery on which he 
 had been placing so fond but gratuitous a reliance was van- 
 ishing into thin air, as far as concerned any probable con- 
 nexion between it and the tragical end of Lord Alkmond. 
 The last words of bluff Captain Lutteridge — the bludgeon, 
 the pistol, the rapier, the dagger — quite haunted Mr Hylton, 
 forcing upon him an inference destinictive of his hopes on 
 behalf of Ayliffe. He, of course, made no mention to Mr 
 Melcombe of the accidental disclosure of Captain Lutteridge; 
 but both of them were greatly perplexed as to the course 
 proper to be taken with reference to the Secretary of State's 
 letter, which nevertheless loudly demanded that sometMng 
 should be done, and that something quickly. 
 
 Little thought Captain Lutteridge, as, inwardly cursing 
 his own stupidity at every step he took, he hastened on to 
 the Castle, of the scene which his announced arrival would 
 termmate. 'Twas one between young Lady Emily and her 
 father, with whom she was angel-like pleading the desperate 
 cause of Ayliffe ! Any one who had been present, hearing 
 the conversation which had taken place that morning in the 
 
NOW AND THEN. 299 
 
 sick chamber of Lady Alkmond, between her Ladyship and 
 Lady Emily, on the subject of AylifFe, might have believed 
 himself listening to the converse of two angels : so gentle, 
 so pitiful, so pious Avas it, as no words can tell. Lady Alk- 
 mond lay in bed, in extreme weakness, in a state most pre- 
 carious ; so frightful had been the shock sustained by a 
 delicate system, at a period when that delicacy was infi- 
 nitely enhanced by the distant prospect — now, alas! at an 
 end — of another addition to the ancient house of her mur- 
 dered Lord. The Earl, on entering her chamber at his 
 usual horn', on the morning of the day on which Mr Hylton 
 and the Captain's last interview had taken place, on sitting 
 down beside the bed, leaned down and kissed the lily-hued 
 cheek, and pressed the slight attenuated fingers of the gentle 
 sufferer, with an air of inconceivable tenderness. Had his 
 attention not been entirely absorbed by her whom he had 
 come to visit, he might have observed Lady Emily, who sat 
 on the opposite side of the bed, looking pale and apprehen- 
 sive: for she knew that Lady Alkmond intended to utter 
 one word — only one word — into the Earl's ear on his retir- 
 ing, which word Lady Emily had undertaken afterwards, 
 on that same morning, to enforce upon her father, with all 
 her powers of dutiful and loving persuasion and intercession. 
 She trembled like an aspen leaf, therefore, when the Earl, 
 after sitting rather longer than usual, rose to take his 
 departure, and Lady Alkmond, gazing at him sweetly, as 
 he kissed her forehead, and clasped her hand, softly whis- 
 pered " Forgive ! " Lady Emily observed her father slightly 
 start, but only very slightly : he looked for a moment ear- 
 
300 NOW AND THEN. 
 
 nestly at Lady Alkmond, and, after pressing his lips to her 
 pale cheek, withdrew in silence. When he had quitted 
 the chamber. Lady Emily glided round to the side of her 
 sister, and both of them remained for some moments silent, 
 and with beating hearts. 
 
 " Don't fear, love !" whispered Lady Alkmond. 
 
 ^' I tremble, Agnes ; I feel I do, but 'tis not from fear. 
 I will do what I have promised !" 
 
 Lady Emily's fingers gently clasped those of her sister-in- 
 law, whose beautiful cheek was of an ashy whiteness, and 
 her bosom heaved ; for Lady Alkmond knew the firmness 
 of the resolution which Lady Emily had formed, to follow 
 her stern father to his library, soon after he had quitted the 
 chamber where they were sitting, and brave the peril of 
 angering him, upon a subject on which he had never 
 hitherto interchanged a syllable with her. And she well 
 knew his fierce inflexibility of character, and that, on the 
 trying topic which she was going to urge, that inflexibility 
 would be exhibited with tenfold force. But she had received 
 several letters from Mrs Hylton, so feelingly advocating the 
 cause of Ayliff'e, his dying wife, and unfortunate little son ; 
 and so strenuously protesting the writer's and her husband's 
 conviction of Ayliffe's innocence, that Lady Emily resolved, 
 cost what effort it might, to make an attempt to wring from her 
 father that expression of a desire for mercy to be extended to 
 the prisoner, which Mrs Hylton assured her would probably 
 be attended with success, and save an innocent man from the 
 horrible and ignominious death of a murderer. That morning 
 she had been early in his library, and placed on the table at 
 
NOW AND THEN. 301 
 
 which he usually sat a little copy of the New Testament, with 
 a slip of paper in it, on which she had written in pencil the 
 words " Matthew xviii. 35." On his return from Lady Alk- 
 mond's room, Lord Mllverstoke repaired to his library, in 
 he which walked to and fro for some time, meditating with no 
 light displacency on the word which had fallen from Lady 
 Alkmond. He suspected its true import and object ; and on 
 taking his seat, and opening with some surprise the 
 Testament which lay before him, guided by the reference 
 written by the trembling fingers of his daughter, he read as 
 follows : — " So likewise shall my heavenly Father do also 
 unto you^ if y^t from your hearts^ forgive not^ every one his 
 brother^ their tresspasses y This verse the Earl read hastily ; 
 then laid down the book, folded his arms, and leaned back in 
 his seat, not with subdued feelings, but very highly indignant. 
 He now saw clearly what had been intended by the faint 
 but impressive whisper of Lady Alkmond, even could he 
 have before entertained -a doubt upon the subject. Oh, why 
 did not thoughts of the heavenly temper of these two 
 loving and trembling spirits melt his stern heart ? 'Twas 
 not so, however : and even anger swelled within that 
 father's breast of untamed fierceness — anger, almost 
 struggling and shaping itself into the utterance of ^' Inter- 
 ference ! intrusion ! presumption !" After a long interval, 
 in which his thoughts were thus angrily occupied, he 
 reopened the Testament, and again read the sublime and 
 awful declaration of the Eedeemer of mankind ; yet smote 
 it not his heart. And after a while, removing the paper, 
 he calmly replaced the sacred volume on the spot from 
 
302 NOW AND THEX. 
 
 which it had been taken by Lady Emily. Xot long after 
 he had done so, he heard a faint tappbig at the distant door, 
 but without taking any notice of it ; although he had a 
 somewhat disturbing suspicion as to the cause of that meek 
 application, and the person by whom it was made. The 
 sound was presently repeated, somewhat louder ; on which 
 " Who is there ? — enter ! " called out the Earl loudly, and in 
 his usual stern tone, looking apprehensively towards the door 
 — which was opened, as he had thought, and perhaps 
 feared, it might be, by Lady Emily, 
 
 " It is I, dear papa," said she, closing the door after her, 
 and advancing rather rapidly towards him, who moved not 
 from his seat ; though the appearance of — NOW — ^his only 
 child, and that a daughter most beautiful in budding woman- 
 hood, and approachmg a father with timid, downcast 
 looks, might well have elicited some word or gesture of 
 welcoming affection and tenderness. 
 
 " What brings you hither, Emily?" he inquired coldly, 
 as his daughter, in her loveliness and terror, stood within a 
 few feet of him, her fine features wearing an expression of 
 blended modesty and resolution. 
 
 ''Do you not know, my dearest papa ?" said she gently ; 
 ''do you not suspect? Do not be angry! — do not, dear 
 papa, look so sternly at me ! I come to speak with you, 
 who are my father, in all love and duty." 
 
 "I am not stem — I am not angry, Emily. Have I not 
 ever been kind to you ? Why, then, this unusual mode of 
 approaching and addressing me ? Were I a mere tyrant, 
 you could not show better than your present manner does 
 that I am such ! " 
 
NOW AND THEN. 803 
 
 His words were kind, but his eye and Lis manner blight- 
 ing. His daughter's knees trembled under her. She 
 glanced hastily at the table in quest of the little book which 
 her hands had that morning placed there ; and, not seeing 
 it, her heart sunk. 
 
 "Be seated, Emily," said Lord Milverstoke, moving 
 towards her a chair, and gently placing her in it, imme- 
 diately opposite to him, at only a very little distance. She 
 thought that she had never till that moment seen her father's 
 face ; or, at least, had never before noticed its true character. 
 How cold and severe was the look of the penetrating eyes 
 now fixed on her ; how rigid were the features ; how com- 
 manding was the expression which they wore ; how visibly 
 clouded with sorrow, and marked with the traces of suffering ! 
 "And what, Emily, would you say ?" he inquired calmly. 
 "Dearest papa, I would say, if I dared, what my sister 
 said to you so short a time ago — Forgive .^" 
 
 "Whom?" inquired the Earl, striving to repress all 
 appearance of emotion. 
 
 "Him who is to die on Monday next — Adam Ayliffe. 
 Oh, my dearest papa, do not — oh, do not look so fearfully at 
 me!" 
 
 "You mean, Emily, the murderer of your hrother .-'" He 
 paused for a moment. "Am I right? Do I understand 
 you?" inquired her father, gloomily. 
 
 "But I think that he is not — I do beheve that he is not. " 
 " How can it concern you^ Emily, to think or beheve on 
 the subject ? Good child, meddle not with what you under- 
 stand not. Who has put you upon this, Emily ? " 
 
304 NOAV AND THEN. 
 
 *'My o"svn heart, dear papa !" 
 
 " Bah, gh'l !" cried the Earl, unable to restrain his angry 
 impulse, ''do not patter nonsense with your father, on a 
 subject like this. You have been trained and tutored to 
 torment me on this matter !" 
 
 '' Papa ! — my papa ! — I trained ! I tutored ! By whom ? 
 Am I of your blood ?" said his daughter, proudly and indig- 
 nantly. 
 
 " You had better return, my child, to your occupations" — 
 
 ''My occupation, dearest papa, is here, and, so long as 
 you may suffer me to be with you, to say few, but few 
 words to you. It is hard if I cannot, I who never know- 
 ingly grieved you in my life. Remember that I am now 
 your only child. Yet I fear you love me not as you ought 
 to love an only child, or you could not speak to me as you 
 have just spoken ! " She paused for a moment, and added, 
 as if with a sudden desperate impulse — "My poor sister and 
 I do implore you to give this wretch a chance of life, for we 
 both believe that he is innocent ! " 
 
 For a second or two the Earl seemed really astounded ; 
 and well he might, for his youthful daughter had suddenly 
 spoken to him with a precision and distinctness of language, 
 an energy of manner, and an expression of eye, such as the 
 Earl had not dreamed of her being able to exhibit, and told 
 of the strength of purpose with which she had come to him. 
 
 " And you both believe that he is innocent!" said he, 
 echoing her words, too much amazed to utter another word, 
 
 " Yes, we do ! we do ! in our hearts. My sister and I 
 have prayed to God many times for his mercy ; and she 
 
NOW AND THEN. 305 
 
 desires me to tell you that she has forgiven this man 
 AylifFe, even though he did this dreadful deed, and so have 
 I. Wife and sister of the dear one dead, we both forgive, 
 even though the poor wretch be guilty; but we believe 
 him innocent, and if he be, oh, Heaven forbid that on Mon- 
 day he should die ! " 
 
 " Emily," said the Earl, who had waited with forced 
 composure till his daughter had ceased, " do you not think 
 that your proper place is in your own apartment, or with 
 your suffering sister-in-law?" 
 
 ^' Why should you thus treat me as a child, papa ? " in- 
 quired Lady Emily, scarcely able to restrain her tears. 
 
 " Why should I not ? " asked her father calmly. 
 
 Lady Emily looked on the ground for some moments in 
 silence. 
 
 ^^ Does it not occur to you as possible that you are med- 
 dling ? meddling with matters beyond your province ? Is it 
 fitting, ^<VZ," he continued, unable to resist an instantaneous 
 but most bitter emphasis on the word, " that you should be 
 HERE talking to me at all — for one moment even, on a matter 
 which I have never thought of naming to you — a child?" 
 
 " I am a child, papa ; but I am your child, and your only 
 one ; and love you more than all the whole world," replied 
 his daughter with ineffable sweetness. 
 
 " Obey me then, as a proof of that love : retire to your 
 chamber, and there wonder at what you have ventured— 
 presumed, this morning to do." 
 
 Lady Emily felt the glance of his eye upon her, as though 
 it had lightened ; but she quailed not. 
 
306 NOW AND THEN. 
 
 " My dear, my only parent, I Implore you send me not 
 away ; let me" — 
 
 " Emily, I cannot be disobeyed ; I am not in the habit of 
 being disobeyed by any one ; it is very sad that I should see 
 the attempt first made by my child." 
 
 " Oh, papa ! forgive me ! forgive me ! " She arose, and 
 approaching him hastily, as she observed him about to 
 advance, sunk on one knee before him, clasping her hands 
 together. " Oh, hear me for but a moment. I never knelt 
 before but to God, yet kneel I now to my father. Oh, have 
 mercy ! nay, be JUST ! " 
 
 " Why, Emily, verily I fear that long confinement, and 
 want of exercise and of changed scenes, are preying upon 
 your mind ; you are not speaking rationally. Eise, child, 
 and do not pursue this folly — or I may think you mad !" 
 He disengaged her hands gently from his knee, which they 
 had the moment before clasped, and raised her from her 
 kneeling posture, she weeping bitterly. 
 
 " I am not mad, papa, nor is my sister ; but Ave fear lest 
 God's anger should fall upon you, nay, upon us all, if you 
 will not listen to the voice of compassion ! " 
 
 " Be seated, Emily," said the Earl. " Excited as you 
 are at present," he continued, with rapidly increasing stern- 
 ness of manner, " no words of mme will be able to satisfy 
 you of the grievous impropriety, nay, the cruel absurdity 
 of all this proceeding. You talk to me like a parrot 
 about mercy, and compassion, and God's anger, and so forth, 
 as though you understood what you were saying, and I 
 understood not what I am doing, what I ought to do, and 
 
NOW AND THEN. 307 
 
 what I have done. Child, you forget yourself, me, and your 
 duty to me. How dared you to profane yonder Testament, 
 and msult your father, by placmg it before him as you 
 did this morning ? Did you do so ?" 
 
 " I did ! " she answered, sobbing. 
 
 " You presumptuous girl ! forgetful of the fifth command- 
 ment!" 
 
 "Oh, say not so ! say not so ! I love, I reverence you — 
 and I FEAR you now ! " said Lady Emily, with passionate 
 energy, gazing at him with tears running doAvn her cheeks, 
 her dark hair partially deranged, her hands clasped together 
 in a supplicatory manner. I prayed to God, before I 
 came to you, that I might not be doing wrong ; that you 
 might not be angry with me ; that if angry, you might for- 
 give me !" 
 
 " Angry with you ! Have I not cause ? Never dared 
 daughter do such thing to father before ! You presume to 
 rebuke and threaten me — me — with the vengeance of Hea- 
 ven, if I yield not to your sickly, dreaming, drivelling sen- 
 timentality. Silence!" he exclaimed, perceiving. her about 
 to speak. '' I have not had my eyes closed, I tell you now, 
 for days past ! I have observed your changed manner ! you 
 have been deliberating, long beforehand, how to perpetrate 
 this undutifulness ! As though my heart had not been already 
 struck as with a thunderbolt from Heaven, you, forsooth — 
 you idle, unthinking child ! must strive to stab it — to wound 
 me ! to insult me ! This is not your own doing ; you dared 
 not have thought of it ! You are the silly tool of others. 
 Silence ! hear me, undutiful girl ! " 
 
308 NOW AND THEN. 
 
 " Papa, I cannot listen to you saying all this, in which 
 you arc so wrong. I am no tool of anybody ! Twice have 
 you said this thing !" Her figure the Earl perceived invo- 
 luntarily becoming erect as she spoke, and her eye fixed with 
 steadfast brightness upon his. Had he been sufficiently calm 
 and observant, he might have seen in his daughter, at that 
 moment, a faint reflection of his own lofty spirit — intolerant 
 of injustice. " And even you, papa, have no right whatever 
 thus to talk to me. If I have done wrong, chide me becom- 
 ingly ; but all that you have said to me only hurts me, and 
 stings me, and I cannot submit to it " — 
 
 " Lady Emily, to your chamber ! " said the Earl, with a 
 stately air, rising ; so did his daughter. 
 
 ^' My Lord ! " she exclaimed magnificently, her tall 
 figm-e drawn up to its full height, and her lustrous eyes fixed 
 unwavering upon his own. Neither spoke for a moment ; 
 and the Earl began, he knew not why, to feel great inward 
 agitation, as he gazed at the erect figm-e of his silent and 
 indignant daughter. 
 
 " My child !" said he at length, faintly, with a quivering 
 lip, and, extending his arms, he moved a step towards her ; 
 on which she sprung forward into his arms, throwing her own 
 about his neck, and kissing his cheek passionately. His 
 strong will for once had failed him ; his full eyes ovei'flowed, 
 and a tear fell on his daughter's forehead. She wept bitterly. 
 For a while he spoke not, but gently led her to a couch, and 
 sat down beside her. 
 
 " Oh, papa, papa ! " she murmured, " how I love you ! ' 
 
 For a while he was silent, struggling, and with partial 
 
NOW AND THEN. 309 
 
 success, to overcome the violence of his emotions. Then he 
 spoke in a low deep tone, and with a strange expression of 
 countenance. 
 
 " The voices of the dead are sounding in my ears, Emily ! 
 the tranquil dead! 'Tis said, my Emily,"— he paused for 
 some moments, and his agitation was prodigious, — " that I 
 was stern to your sweet mother " — 
 
 " Oh, dear, dearest, best beloved by daughters, never ! " she 
 cried vehemently, struggling to escape from his grasp — for 
 he held her rigidly while gazing at her with agonised eyes 
 — that she might again throw her arms around his neck. 
 
 " And I now fearfully feel— I fear— that I WAS stern, as 
 I have this day been stem to you. Forgive me, ye meek and 
 blessed dead ! " — his quivering lips were closed for a moment, 
 as were also his eyes. " Alas, Emily ! she is looking at me 
 through your eyes. Oh, how like ! " he remarked, as if speak- 
 ing to himself. His daughter covered her eyes, and buried 
 her head in his bosom. " Do you, my Emily, forgive me ?" 
 
 *'0h, papa! no, no; what have I to forgive? Every 
 thing have I to love ! my own, sweet papa ! Much I fear 
 that I may have done what a daughter ought not to have 
 done ! I have grieved and wounded a father that tenderly 
 loved me " — 
 
 " Ay, my child, I do," he whispered tremulously, gently 
 drawing her slender form nearer to his heart. '' Emily," 
 said he, after a while, " go, get me that Testament which 
 you placed before me ; oh go, dear child ! " She still hung 
 her head, and made no motion of going. " Go, get it me ; 
 bring it to me ! " 
 
310 NOW AND THEN. 
 
 She rose without a word, and brought it to him ; and 
 while he silently read the verse to which she had directed 
 his attention, she sat beside him, trembling and in silence, 
 her eyes timidly fixed on the ground. 
 
 " It was in love, and not presumption, my Emily, that 
 you laid these awful words before me !" 
 
 " Indeed, my papa, it was," said she, bursting into tears. 
 
 He appeared about to speak to her, when words evidently 
 failed him suddenly. At length — " And when that sweet 
 soul " — he paused, " this morning whispered in my ear, did 
 she know of this that you had done ?" Lady Emily could 
 not speak. She bowed her head in acquiescence, and sobbed. 
 Her father was fearfully agitated. " Wretch that I am ! — 
 I am not worthy of either of you!" Lady Emily again 
 flung her arms round him fondly, and kissed him. " I am 
 yielding to great weakness, my love," said he, after a while, 
 with somewhat more of composure. " Yet, never shall I — 
 never can I — forget this morning ! I have long felt, and 
 feared, that I was not made to be loved : I have seen it 
 written in people's faces. Yet can I love ! " 
 
 " I know you can ! I know you do, my own dear papa ! 
 Do you not beHeve that I love you ? that Agnes loves you ? " 
 
 " I do, my Emily — I do ! Yet till this moment have I 
 felt alone in life. In this vast pile, to me now how gloomy 
 and desolate ! with these woods, now so horrible, around me, 
 I have been alone — utterly alone ! And yet were you with 
 me — you, my only daughter — who, I suppose, dared not tell 
 me how much you loved me ! " 
 
 " Oh, do not say so, papa ! I knew your grief and suffer- 
 
NOW AND THEN. 311 
 
 ing. They were too sacred to be touched — I wept for you, 
 but m my own chamber!" 
 
 '' You stand beside me as an angel, Emily ! " said the Earl 
 fondly ! " as you have ever been : yet I now feel as though 
 my eyes had not really seen and known you !" 
 
 They wallved slowly to and fro, the Earl affectionately 
 supporting her tall slim figure ; and as he gazed at her, 
 though her eyes were heavy with weeping, and her features 
 partly concealed beneath her dark dishevelled tresses, he 
 beheld in them a beauty which he had never fully seen be- 
 fore, and which no one knew him familiarly enough ever 
 to have remarked to him ! 
 
 "Papa," said she, at length, evidently with timorous 
 reluctance in her manner ; " Shall I offend you if" — She 
 paused and glanced at him apprehensively. 
 
 " No, Emily, sweet love ! you will not — you cannot now 
 offend me," said he, sighing deeply, and speaking very 
 gravely, but affectionately. " I know what is in your gentle 
 heart — your earliest words this morning are still ringing in 
 my ears. Can you believe and trust in me, now, my dear 
 Emily?" 
 
 " Indeed, indeed, papa, I can !" 
 
 " As you love me, then, sweet girl ! do not, at present, 
 speak to me on this dreadful affair. I know all that you 
 would say : but — you do not, you cannot, you ought not, 
 to know as much of this matter as I do. Eemembering 
 the solemn and fearful passage of Holy Writ which you 
 have showed me, Emily, I yet declare to you I believe in 
 my conscience that there is no shadow of doubt about tlie 
 
312 NOAV AND THEN. 
 
 guilt of Ayliffe ! So said his judge, an able and merciful 
 judge ; so said the jury ; so say the whole world ! I could 
 tell you of expressions of dreadful malice on his part, 
 against me and my family : but why ? why, my love, 
 should I distress you, or harass myself?" 
 
 Lady Emily was going to speak — but he added, 
 
 " Suppose before he suffer the sentence of the law, he 
 were to acknowledge that he did this awful deed — what 
 then, Emily?" 
 
 " What mean you, dear papa?" she inquired faintly. 
 
 '' Should his life be even then spared ? — or should he 
 die?" said the Earl in a very solemn manner. 
 
 " Oh papa ! " she murmured, after a pause, sighing 
 heavily. " But," she added, " suppose he should not con- 
 fess it, but die, saying that he is innocent, and it should be 
 so found afterwards? Would not that be awful, dearest 
 papa?" 
 
 " My dear Emily, unfortunately few criminals suffer 
 their just sentence without falsely protesting iimocence : 
 were we to believe them, against all proof positive of guilt, 
 how could law or justice be administered?" 
 
 " But, forgive a word more, papa! — Suppose he should 
 really die innocent?" 
 
 " My dear child, that is, I own, a shocking supposition ; 
 but — you may speak of this again to me — I hear the sound 
 of steps coming along the corridor." 
 
 The Earl was right ; in a few moments a servant gently 
 opened the door, and announced that Captain Lutteridge 
 had just arrived from the barracks, m great haste, and 
 
NOW AND THEN. 313 
 
 begged to be allowed immediately to see his Lordship 
 on an important matter. The Earl started : and, after a few 
 seconds' angrj pause, said, "Let him be shown hither." 
 
 When the servant had withdrawn — " Emily," said he, 
 " this is a well-meaning, thick-headed soldier, who has 
 occasioned me great distress by his folly and meddling ; 
 but after the message which he has sent, I am bound to see 
 him. Away, my love — I hear him coming — God bless thee ! 
 God bless thee!" he continued, kissing her fondly. " Go 
 through yonder door;" and Lady Emily ran to the private 
 door, and in a moment more Captain Lutteridge entered, 
 and found the Earl alone. 
 
 '' I fear your Lordship is ill," said the Captain, approach- 
 ing him, and bowing courteously. 
 
 " No, sir ; but I am harassed," replied the Earl, who had 
 resumed all his habitual haughtiness of manner : " and 
 may I request the favour of being at once informed what 
 may be your urgent business with me?" 
 
 The Captain was, as usual, excessively irritated by the 
 Earl's mode of address, but was then conscious of being in 
 no position to quarrel with, or resent it. 
 
 "I will to the point at once, my Lord," said he, with 
 forced composure. " I am come to own myself to have 
 been just playing the part of an utter fool." 
 
 There was something in his quaint embarrassed manner 
 which instantly arrested the Earl's attention, and he listened 
 with stern curiosity. 
 
 " Your Lordship may beHeve that as a gentleman, and 
 having the honour of bearing his Majesty's commission, I 
 
314 NOW AND THEN. 
 
 would rather suffer death than willingly or knowingly break 
 my word" — 
 
 " For Heaven's sake, sir, proceed ; go on : " said the 
 Earl impatiently, observing Captain Lutteridge hesitate 
 for a moment. 
 
 " Well, my Lord, yet so the matter is ; — in a conversa- 
 tion had, scarce an hour ago, with Mr Hylton, about this 
 caitiff that is to die on Monday — I could submit to be shot 
 for having to acknowledge to your Lordship, that unad- 
 visedly, and in the heat of the very speech in which I was 
 protesting to the contrary, out sHpped the accursed word — 
 duelling.^'' 
 
 "What, sir!" exclaimed the Earl, starting out of his 
 chair, and standing erect, gazing at Captain Lutteridge in 
 a kind of stupefied silence. 
 
 " Yes, my Lord, I am a man of few words, and those 
 few, how foolish sometimes ! My Lord — I say — out sprung 
 this thrice accursed word — duelling" — 
 
 " Mercifid heavens ! — these people will assuredly kill me, 
 between them all," exclaimed the Earl, striking his fore- 
 head with his clenched hand. "And what then, sir?" he 
 presently inquii'ed, desperately, but with the manner of one 
 quite exhausted. 
 
 " ]N"othing, my Lord," replied the Captain. 
 
 " How say you, sir ? Are you trifling— bandying words 
 with me ? What mean you, su', by — nothing ? " 
 
 " My Lord, what I mean I say ; what I say that I 
 mean," replied Captain Lutteridge, doggedly. 
 
 The Earl glanced at him for a moment, with an exprcs- 
 
NOW AND THEN. 315 
 
 sion which prevented a somewhat fierce speech that the 
 Captain was about making ; and then — 
 
 " Have you any other business with me, sir?" inquired 
 the Earl, with evidently suppressed fury. 
 
 " JSTone, my Lord — none, I thank my stars ;" replied the 
 Captain, coolly, and even sarcastically. 
 
 " Sir, I seem the sport of destiny this day ! — Never felt 
 I so humiliated ! I wish you good day, sir," said the Earl. 
 " You see, my Lord," said the Captain resolutely — " I am 
 cool, your Lordship is not ; wherefore I overlook" — 
 
 The Earl rang his bell violently ; and stood in silence, 
 till a servant appeared ; on which his Lordship motioned 
 the Captain to the door, with an air which was to that 
 gallant person quite intolerable. 
 
 " This is your house, my Lord," said he, haughtily, '^ and 
 I have no right in it ; nay, I had no business here what- 
 ever, seeing I ought to have better understood the nature 
 of the person living in it. For the present, my Lord, 
 good day. But I pray you, by no means to forget the 
 words which you have this day used to me, nor the manner 
 in which, before your menial, you have presumed to dismiss 
 a gentleman and an officer. Be assured that if your Lord- 
 ship be disposed to obliviousness hereof, I am not." 
 
 With this the Captain made a low and formal bow, and 
 with slow dignified steps withdrew. 
 
 If he imagined that his last words had had the least effect 
 on Lord Milverstoke, he was mistaken : for his Lordship 
 was sunk deep in a reverie with which the name and threats 
 of Captain Lutteridge had no connexion whatever. And, 
 
816 NOW AND THEN. 
 
 indeed, as for the Captain himself, something occuiTed a 
 few moments after his exit from the Earl's library, Avhicli 
 made him for awhile forget the only as yet unavenged insult 
 which he was aware of having ever experienced in his life ; 
 for he happened to encounter the Lady Emily, who, unex- 
 pectedly to herself, crossed his path on her way to Lady 
 Alkmond's apartment, and disappeared in a moment. 
 
 " By my sword !" said the Captain to himself, as he hur- 
 ned on, " what a beauty is that girl already ! And in tw^o 
 years' time — heigho — naught will be heard at Court but of 
 her. But, if she hath a temper like her father's — why. 
 Heaven pity hhii that is captivated by her !" 
 
 When the Captain was fairly on his way back to the bar- 
 racks, his first stinging recollection of the treatment which 
 he had experienced from the Earl made him scratch his ear 
 violently, and then dig his spurs into his startled but obe- 
 dient horse, who thereupon pelted onward with him, till sud- 
 denly reined up, on its rider's meeting another horseman, and 
 that was Mr Hylton, on his way home from Mr Melcombe's. 
 
 " Sir, good day," quoth the Captain. '' Are you going 
 to the Castle ? Ecod, if you be, look out ! You will be 
 clean eaten up in one minute ! Look out, therefore, is all 
 I shall say, that am just escaped to tell you." 
 
 " Why, Captain, what is the matter, eh ?" 
 
 ''Matter? Egad, go and see, if you be so minded; for 
 I'll be ■ hem ! I ask your pardon, sir, you being a par- 
 son — good day, sir." 
 
 " But stay — stay. Captain ! Am I to go to the Castle to 
 see Lord Milverstoke ? " 
 
NOW AND THEN. 317 
 
 '' Oh, certainly ! " said the Captain, smiling grimly. " Go 
 and pnt your head into the lion's mouth for a moment ! 
 You may come out again ! And if you do, blessed be the 
 stars that will shine on Mr Hylton — good day, good day, 
 sir ! "—and away rode the Captain, leaving Mr Hylton in a 
 perplexed, whom he had found in a very melancholy, mood : 
 for Islv Hylton had quitted Mr Melcombe witliout having 
 scarcely a ray of hope left on behalf of the unhappy convict, 
 for whom he had so powerfully but (as he now feared) un- 
 availingly exerted himself. While he and Mr Melcombe had 
 been in the midst of their anxious consultation on the course 
 to be pursued, Mr Hylton's attention was called by his com- 
 panion to a person just then passing along the street, into 
 which the window of Mr Melcombe's office looked, and who 
 was no other than old Ayliife, in his broad hat, long thread- 
 bare blue coat, and high walking-stick, on his way from the 
 gaol. Oh, what a face was his ! wasted, and full of sorrow 
 and resignation ! And his step seemed feebler than Mr 
 Hylton had before observed it to be. He heaved a deep 
 sigh while gazing after the venerable figure of one whom 
 he did not venture to summon into the apartment in which 
 his son's welfare was the sole subject of discourse and con- 
 sultation. Mr Hylton told Mr Melcombe, with a depressed 
 air, that he had accidentally discovered what had been the 
 topic of conversation at the Earl of Milverstoke's table, at 
 the moment of Lord Alkmond's quitting it ; but that it 
 had become known to him in a manner which at present 
 prevented his making any use of what he had heard ; yet 
 that he was able to assure Mr Melcombe, that the conver- 
 
•'^18 NOW AND THEN. 
 
 sation seemed to throw no light whatever on the gloomy- 
 affair, and, indeed, appeared quite incapable of being, in 
 any intelligible or probable way, brought to bear upon it. 
 Mr Melcombe looked blank enough on hearing this. 
 
 " Then I fear the game is up^ Mr Hylton — if you will 
 forgive the expression," said Mr Melcombe, shrugging his 
 shoulders, and sighing. Mr Hylton only shook his head. 
 " Can't you give me — I mean, are not you at liberty to give 
 one the least inkling, — ^just a hint — a mere breath — eh ? I 
 would receive it in sacred confidence." 
 
 " On no earthly consideration," replied Mr Hylton, sadly. 
 " My lips are sealed till I see one from whom I accidentally 
 learnt what I know. But this I can tell you — certain I 
 am that there is something or other strange and mysterious 
 about Lord Alkmond's fate, unconnected though what I 
 have heard may be with the facts proved against the 
 prisoner." 
 
 ^' Does the intelligence which you have thus become pos- 
 sessed of in any way vary your view of the facts proved at 
 the trial?" inquired Mr Melcombe. After a pause, during 
 which Mr Hylton rapidly ran over them, he answered in 
 the negative. 
 
 " Does it bear at all on the new facts laid before the 
 Secretary of State, as mentioned in my agent's letter?" 
 Again Mr Hylton paused, and longer than before. 
 
 " I cannot say that it does ; nor yet will I say that it 
 does not." 
 
 " The way to try the question fairly is, to put yourself in 
 my Lord Farnborough's place, and ask yourself whether 
 
NOW AND THEN. 319 
 
 that which you now know warrants you in further suspend 
 ing the execution of this sentence." 
 
 ^' Of course, acting only on the knowledge which he 
 would then have of the case, I mean, independently of my 
 own unshaken conviction of the prisoner's innocence?" 
 
 " Of course ; most certainly. You see, Mr Hylton, my 
 Lord Farnborough has a tremendous responsibility upon 
 him, and must rest the exercise of his discretion on sure 
 grounds. What conclusion, then, on these principles, ought 
 Lord Farnborough to arrive at, as the case now stands, 
 and supposing him informed of that which you say that you 
 now are ?" 
 
 "Oh, do not ask me !" replied Mr Hylton gloomily. 
 "Is it information likely to bring you at all into com- 
 munication with the Earl of Milverstoke ? What effect will 
 it have on him if he know it ? Have we any chance of 
 getting from his Lordship an expression of doubt of the 
 prisoner's guilt, or a recommendation to mercy ? " Again 
 Mr Hylton paused, turning over in his mind the possible 
 result of Captain Lutteridge's interview that day with Lord 
 Milverstoke ; and having done so, shook his head and sighed. 
 " Well, mystery ! mystery all ! all is mystery ! " exclaimed 
 Mr Melcombe, shrugging his shoulders : " my duties seem 
 a farce at present. We are walking in a fog, a blinding 
 fog ; " but, thought he, I see through that fog the dim, 
 ghastly outline of a gallows ! " My real opinion," he con- 
 tinued, " is that you have done all that can be done ; and 
 this unhappy fellow must be left to his fate. But, by the 
 way, Mr Hylton, you must needs answer the Under Secre- 
 
320 NOW AND THEN. 
 
 tary's letter, and without delay. I never read one at once 
 so courteous, so solemn, so exacting of an answer. As a 
 gentleman, but, above all, as a Christian minister, you are 
 bound to be promptly candid in this matter, and relieve his 
 Lordship from the harassing doubts which it is you only 
 who have raised in his mind." 
 
 " 'Tis true, Mr Melcombe ; I feel the pressure of your 
 words," said Mr Hylton, " and if possible I will send an 
 answer by this night's coach ; but I must first see or hear 
 from Lord ]\Iilverstoke ; and so have not" — looking at his 
 watch — " a moment's time to lose. Pray come over to the 
 parsonage to-morrow morning. " And with this Mr Hylton 
 took his leave of Mr Melcombe, grievously depressed, and, 
 indeed, reduced well-nigh to downright despair. He feared 
 within himself to contemplate the scattered fragments of the 
 structure of hope which he had raised with such well-meant 
 precipitation. He felt, indeed, sick at heart. Not all the 
 endearments of good Mrs Hylton could cheer his drooping 
 spirits for a moment. He began now to afflict himself on 
 account of having only protracted the mortal anguish of 
 Ayliffe, and — in language terrible to be recollected — made 
 him suffer twice the pangs of death. Little thought he of 
 the angel who, in the form of Lady Emily, had that day 
 joined her passionate advocacy with his ! That her gentle 
 hand had struck a blow which reached a long ice-bound 
 heart, whence gushed upon her streams of pent-up love and 
 tenderness, as from a source never, perchance, to be dried 
 up agam : but had that dear, noble creature succeeded in 
 overmling her father's judgment? In his sudden con- 
 
NOW AND THEN. 321 
 
 descension towards one whom he lightly regarded as, in such 
 a matter, but a child, had he not shown a glimpse of reason- 
 ing, adverse to her wishes, which was not to be answered ? 
 Of all this Mr Hylton knew nothing; and, in forming the 
 resolution to go that evening to the Castle, ascertain the 
 state of his Lordship's feelings on the subject, and make one 
 last earnest effort to shake his confidence in the prisoner's 
 guilt, and persuade him to join in a recommendation to 
 mercy, Mr Hylton felt himself at once discharging a duty 
 and exercising a right. 
 
322 NOW AND THEN. 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 Shortly after arriving at the parsonage, Mr Hylton 
 partook of a slight and hasty dinner ; and then, taking with 
 him the letter of Mr Melcombe's London agent, and that of 
 the' Under Secretary of State to himself, set off for the 
 Castle, with heavy forebodings, when he adverted to the 
 ominous intimations with which Captain Lutteridge had 
 that day left him. Mr Hylton 's corn-age was not at fault ; 
 and in a cause which he believed to be righteous and just, 
 he would have faced the bloodiest tyrant whom ever earth 
 had seen and shuddered at. He would not else have been 
 a true sei^ant of his Master, whose awful words should be 
 ever sounding in our ears, subduing vain fears, and 
 strengthening feeble pui-poses (and so they ever were with 
 Mr Hylton :) — I say unto you^ my friends^ Be not afraid of 
 them that kill the hody^ and after that^ have no more that they 
 can do. But I will forewarn you whom ye shall fear : Fear 
 Him who^ after he hath hilled^ hath ^ower to cast into hell ; 
 YEA, I SAY UNTO YOU, FEAR HIM. '' So," said Mr Hylton 
 within himself, as he went to pay probably his last visit, in 
 AylifFe's lifetime, to the Lord of Milverstoke, '^ let me ask 
 myself — do I verily in my conscience believe (as said the 
 
NOW AND THEN. '323 
 
 Judge to the jury in this poor man's case) that Adam AyUffe 
 is, in spite of all appearances against him, innocent of the 
 crime for which he is adjudged to die? " And after a brief 
 and serious revolving of the matter, he answered, " Yes, I 
 do : then will I make this last effort, and, if it fail, console 
 myself by reflecting that what I thought my duty I have 
 done, careless of consequences." 
 
 Having come to this conclusion, he felt a wonderful com- 
 posure of feeling, and serenity of spirit, which deserted him 
 not for a moment, even when he entered the room in which 
 Lord Milverstoke awaited him, and which had been the 
 scene of their former agitating interview. He expected to 
 see the Earl with a fierce and scowling countenance, and to 
 hear him speak in a voice of bitter contemptuousness, if indeed 
 he were not even roused into fury ungovernable. But Lord 
 Milverstoke received him with marvellous calmness of 
 manner, albeit with visible gloom. 
 
 "Pray, Mr Hylton, be seated," said his Lordship, with a 
 sort of solemn courtesy which sensibly affected his visitor. 
 " I am far from well, in either mind or body, but doubtless 
 you have that to say which I ought to hear, and at once, 
 therefore, sir, speak freely. I am all attention." 
 
 "Your Lordship has to-day seen Captain Lutteridge," 
 said Mr Hylton, resolved to take advantage of this unex- 
 pectedly calm humour of the Earl, and touch first the most 
 dangerous topic which he had to deal with. 
 
 "I have, sir. He told me what had passed between you 
 and him this day. Captain Lutteridge is a plain-spoken 
 gentleman, and somewhat abruptly broke to me a matter 
 
324 NOW AND THEN. 
 
 very painful ; and I fear I dismissed him roughly, for which 
 I am sorry, and ask his pardon ; and I request you, if you 
 should see him, to tell him this from me." 
 
 ^' I trust your Lordship is satisfied that I had taken no 
 means whatever to betray the Captain into the inadvertence 
 which he must have explained to your Lordship." 
 
 " He did not say that you did, Mr Hylton, nor suggest 
 it ; and I believe that you could not possibly do so base and 
 paltry a thing. And now that you know what formed the 
 subject of conversation at my table, on that — that — hideous 
 night — let me ask you, sir, whether you agree with what I 
 told you some time ago, that what was said on that occasion 
 could have no bearing on the case which you have thought 
 proper so vehemently, so tenaciously, to advocate and 
 uphold?" 
 
 "My Lord, I feel it my duty to acknowledge that I have 
 been unable, since hearing what was the subject of conver- 
 sation on that dismal night, to see any means of connecting 
 that conversation with the event which we all so deeply 
 deplore ; which still seems to me enshrouded in mystery 
 and terror. But I am unshaken in my belief of the inno- 
 cence of Ayliife" — 
 
 "I feel it, sir, very difficult to listen to you with calmness ; 
 but I restrain my feelings ; and I request to be informed 
 of your object in coming hither to-night." 
 
 "My Lord, I deem it right to show your Lordship how at 
 present stands the case, which now probably can have only 
 one ending, and that on Monday morning next." Here he 
 took out of his pocket-book two letters, and handing them 
 
NOW AND THEN. •'525 
 
 to liis Lordship, said, '' The first, my Lord, of these letters, 
 is one which gives an account of what took place before 
 the Secretary of State, with reference to the communica- 
 tion forwarded from Dunkirk ; and the second is the Under 
 Secretary's letter to me, on the subject concerning which 
 I have just spoken to your Lordship." 
 
 The Earl took the two proffered documents, and opened 
 first the latter with visibly checked eagerness, reading it 
 over in silence. "I will not," said his Lordship, when he 
 had come to the end, " ask you, sir, whether now you feel 
 justified in having made the representations which have 
 called forth this very marvellous and creditable despatch ; 
 for such, I suppose, I must call it. But if you have no ob- 
 jection to be so communicative, sir, I wish to know what 
 course you may now be intending to pursue. I mean, 
 speaking with precision, how you will endeavour to make 
 it appear that you have not grievously disturbed the admi- 
 nistration of justice. " 
 
 "Oh, my Lord, while I acknowledge the courtesy of your 
 Lordship's language, I feel the searing severity of your 
 rebuke, and must submit to it. But while I do so, suffer 
 me to say, that my conscience acquits me of having done, 
 intentionally, wrong. I acted in a great, a terrible diffi- 
 culty." 
 
 " I think, sir, you evade — no, sir, I beg your pardon — I 
 mean, I think that you did not hear, or have forgotten, my 
 question. I ask you again, what course you intend to 
 pursue with reference to this letter ? You pause, Mr Hyl- 
 ton. K it be any relief to your feehngs, I have to inform 
 
r326 NOW AND THEN. 
 
 you that I shall myself immediately write to my Lord 
 Farnborough, telling him how I am forced, by circmnstances, 
 to disclose a conversation which took place in the fancied 
 privacy of my own house. I shall also mention the subject 
 of that conversation ;" — he paused, and involuntarily closed 
 his eyes for a moment — "and that — my — unfortunate mur- 
 dered son was present, and probably heard what was said ; 
 and shortly afterwards left the Castle. This I intend to do, 
 sir, immediately : and then, sir, I presume your end will 
 have been so far answered," said the Earl, momentarily 
 resuming his usual sternness of tone and manner. Mr Hyl- 
 ton bowed in silent acquiescence. "And what inference do 
 I'OU think proper, sir, to draw from this circumstance, touch- 
 ing my unhappy son's murder?" the Earl proceeded to 
 inquire, with ill-subdued vehemence, and a voice in which 
 a faint tremor was perceptible. 
 
 "My Lord," replied Mr Hylton calmly, ''I do not pro- 
 fess to draw any inferences. I know not that I am entitled 
 to draw any, nor that I am able to do so." 
 
 " This babbling Captain told you, sir, I believe, that the 
 late Lord Alkmond seemed disturbed — distressed — at the 
 conversation?" 
 
 " Certainly he did, my Lord." 
 
 " And of course, sir, you placed implicit reliance on what 
 he said ? and were ready to act on what a man in his cups 
 fancied that he observed in another ? But I cannot pursue 
 this further, sir," said the Earl, having slightly changed 
 colour. " And now, concerning this other letter." 
 
 That also his Lordship read entirely through. When he 
 
NOW AND THEN. 327 
 
 had done, he said, with a contemptuous air, " It did not 
 require Lord Farnborough's talents to dispose of this flimsy 
 farce ! But are you satisfied on this point also, sir?" 
 
 " My Lord, I cannot carry the matter further, and look 
 upon it, after the two letters which your Lordship has before 
 you, as concluded ; or at least placed beyond my judgment 
 or responsibility." 
 
 " And what then^ sir?" inquired Lord Milverstoke, eyeing 
 Mr Hylton steadfastly. 
 
 "What then, my Lord, indeed?" echoed Mr Hylton, 
 with a deep sigh. 
 
 " I will tell you, sir. Justice will be satisfied, and a 
 lesson taught to those who have striven to defeat it." 
 
 " My Lord, pardon me, I cannot sit silent while" — 
 
 " I tell you, sir," continued the Earl excitedly, " that 
 you must and shall sit silent before him whom you have so 
 deeply injured, whose feelings you have outraged, whose 
 heart you have wrung, whose soul you have tortured almost 
 to madness. I tell you, sir, that you have acted in vain 
 and presumptuous defiance of common sense, the law of 
 the land, and the principles of justice ; and most delibe- 
 rately stabbed hearts into which it was your province 
 rather to have poured sympathy and consolation. How, 
 sir, shall you ever make me amends for the days and nights 
 of misery which your intrusive meddling and false humanity 
 have occasioned me ? Was your object, sir, to hold me up 
 as a mark for the arrows of calumny ? To earn for your- 
 self the reputation of the good and merciful, at my expense, 
 coarsely careless of the peace of my family ? To make me 
 
328 NOW AND THEN. 
 
 appear, I say, vindictive and relentless, that you might 
 appear the reverse? But, doubtless, you have been par- 
 tially successful ; and I beg of you to spend an early day 
 next week, a very early day, sir, in humiliation and fasting, 
 that you may acquire a smarting sense of your inhumanity, 
 and possibly even learn a little humility, and to place less 
 confidence in your own somewhat overweening and pre- 
 sumptuous judgment ! Oh, let me hear, sir, what you have 
 to say ! By all means, Mr Hylton ; plausibility will not 
 even now desert you!" said the Earl, with a most bitter 
 smile, it being the first approach — but such an one ! — to a 
 smile of any kind that had been seen in his features since 
 his son's death. 
 
 " My Lord, I see before me, in your Lordship, only a 
 cruelly injured and bereaved father ; your Lordship sees in 
 me only an humble clergyman, miable, and indisposed, 
 even were he able, to resent insult, or render railing for 
 railing, I dare not, I cannot, take or feel offence at any 
 thing which has just fallen from your Lordship ; and I 
 believe that, though your words are sharp and cutting, your 
 Lordship meant not offence against one who never uttered 
 a disrespectful or hasty word to your Lordship ; who at this 
 moment, God be my witness, loves and pities your Lord- 
 ship"— 
 
 '-'- I thank you, sir," interposed the Earl loftily. 
 
 — " And sympathises with your sufferings," continued 
 Mr Hylton, calmly. " But, my Lord, I choose to appeal 
 for a moment, confidently, to your own high feelings. I 
 call upon you to remember my sacred character and office. 
 
NOW AND THEN. 329 
 
 and to bear with me while I solemnly denounce, in the 
 name of Him whom I serve, your present fierce, unchristian, 
 implacable spirit ! " 
 
 " Mr Hylton," said the Earl, his eyes ghstening with 
 fury, " I would be tranquil and temperate with you, in spite 
 of your provoking me to forget what is due to myself, as 
 well as you. Pray, sir, exercise, in your amazing meek- 
 ness ! — a little discretion ; and consider whether you are 
 not guilty of inordinate assumption in thus addressing him 
 whom you have injured, and towards whom you express no 
 single word of regret or apology !" 
 
 " For what, my Lord, am I to apologise?" inquired Mr 
 Hylton mildly. 
 
 " If your own heart do not tell you, sir, words of mine 
 are unavailing. And now that you have, perhaps, no fresh 
 indignity to offer me under the guise of saintly counsel and 
 rebuke" — Mr Hylton gazed earnestly at the Earl, but 
 evidently with no intention to interrupt him, and with a 
 look which made the Earl falter for a second or two — " let 
 me, in my turn, presume to offer you some advice ; to give 
 you, sir, a recommendation, and methinks a very solemn 
 one. To the prison, sir — to the cell of the justly doomed 
 betake yourself, and make efforts which, I would fain hope, 
 may not even yet be unavailing, to repair the almost mortal 
 mischief that you have done ! Try, sir, to turn the guilty 
 eye which is there again to hereafter — that eye which you 
 have diverted fatally to earth ! Calm that spirit ! Collect 
 those wandering and distracted thoughts! Clear away 
 the confusion which you have there created ! Be this^ 
 
330 NOW AND THEN. 
 
 reverend sir, for some few days to come, yom' terrible 
 task!" 
 
 " I have not, my Lord," said Mr Hylton calmly, when 
 the Earl had ceased, " your Lordship's known eloquence, 
 your powers of blighting sarcasm — gifts from God, for wise 
 purposes, towards yourself and others, and not weapons to 
 be thus used agahist an unoffending, though most miworthy, 
 servant of that Great Giver ! who is Lord of Lords, and 
 King of Kings ! Oh, my Lord ! my Lord ! to the con- 
 demned cell my steps shall, indeed, soon be bent ! Its poor 
 occupant shall have my fervent prayers, my most affectionate 
 offices ! I will prostrate by his side my own unworthy soul 
 before the awful throne of God, now, I humbly trust, 
 brightening before his eye, from which are falling fast away 
 the films of earth. I will try, unscathed by your causeless 
 curse, to lift up those trembling hands, and support those 
 feeble knees : and oh ! my God ! for His sake, who ever 
 liveth to make intercession for us, assist my efforts on that 
 occasion ; and before he, this poor victim of error, go hence, 
 may he declare his forgiveness of those who express no 
 forgiveness towards him ! " 
 
 No man living could have then seen and heard Mr 
 Hylton, immoved: what dignity and solemn tenderness 
 were in his every look, his every word! The Earl of 
 Milverstoke gazed at him in silence, as he spoke ; and when 
 he paused, said, with some effort to retain his former stern- 
 ness of tone, " Sir, this is very eloquent and moving, and 
 quite in the style of your profession ! — but endeavour 
 to be reasonable and just. Have I said, sir, that I 
 
NOW AND THEN. 331 
 
 would extend no forgiveness towards tliis unhappy 
 wretch?" 
 
 '•''Do you feel that you can^ my Lord?" inqmred Mr 
 Hylton, and his eyes seemed to search the soul of Lord 
 Milverstoke, whose wasted and agitated features were 
 suddenly flushed, but he spoke not : '^ one word — one such 
 word, my Lord, from those truthful lips of yours would be 
 indeed" — 
 
 " Are you my confessor, sir ?" inquired Lord Milverstoke 
 sternly. 
 
 " No, my Lord, I am not ; but still one who, till I may 
 be dismissed, am intrusted with sacred functions towards 
 your Lordship and your household. I charge you, my 
 Lord, by your hopes of eternal life and happiness, passing 
 through the forgiveness of injury — I charge you, my Lord, 
 to give me authority, on your behalf, to tell this" — 
 
 '^ Let not my name be mentioned in that place of guilt 
 and pollution ! " said the Earl with great excitement. " By 
 what authority, sir, do you presume thus to talk to me ? to 
 tell me that you are entitled to ask me such a question ? If, 
 between my God and myself I endeavour to do my duty 
 towards Him and towards man — who shall interfere ? Sir, 
 you still are^ at present, one of my chaplains, and I forbear ; 
 but you will find it prudent to pursue these topics no 
 fm-ther." 
 
 Mr Hylton bowed with sad respectfulness. " I ask your 
 Lordship to bear with me — possibly for the last time that I 
 may be seen, or my voice be heard, within your Lordship's 
 residence — in your Lordship's presence. Change, for a 
 
332 NOW AND THEN. 
 
 luoment, the case that is now, my Lord ; and suppose that 
 Adam AylifFe had been the murdered man, and your Lord- 
 ship unjustly accused as the murderer, and doomed to die, 
 though innocent — to be ignominiously hanged, my Lord — 
 your big, proud heart bursting indignantly amidst universal 
 yet undeserved execration" — 
 
 " Why, sir, will you exercise your rhetorical powers upon 
 me? I have acknowledged your eloquence; I add to it, if 
 it gratify you, that you are a master of your art ; you dis- 
 play powers, sir, that I never dreamed of your possessing ; 
 and, to show you the gross injustice of your accusation 
 against me, if ever it be in my power to contribute towards 
 placing yom' talents in a more conspicuous position — of use- 
 fulness, I mean, sir, — I will pledge myself to do it. Yes, 
 sir, heartily, zealously — from motives unimpeachable by 
 God or man. Is not that a forgiveness of injury ? For, 
 sir, I tell you that I bear an almost intolerable sense of the 
 injury which you have done me — which you continue to do 
 me — injury with which you are now mingling insult I — 
 insult, sir — bitter insult! I feel that you are absurdly 
 striving to practise upon my feelings, and to trifle with my 
 understanding ! Yes I do, sir," added the Earl, darting 
 towards Mr Hylton a glance of mingled fury and scorn. 
 
 <■'- Forgive me, my Lord Milverstoke ; you cannot have 
 arrived deliberately at that conclusion ; and you are wrong- 
 ing yourself, and not me ! Oh, my Lord, my Lord, my 
 question remains unanswered ! Your expressions of intended 
 good towards me, I am constrained to receive with implicit 
 credence: but I ask no forgiveness for myself; it is for" — 
 
NOW AND THEN. 383 
 
 " Pshaw, sir ! Now, let me remind you of a passage 
 tliat you know well — Why see you the mote that is in my 
 eye, and not the beam that is in your own ? 'Tis almost 
 descending to the ridiculous, sir ; but it is you who force 
 that descent — you, preacher of humility to others ! see with 
 what tenacious conceit and pride you refuse to own your 
 faults, and proudly disclaim a proffered forgiveness ! " 
 
 " God must judge between us, my Lord," said Mr 
 Hylton, with a sigh. " I am not conscious of feeling that 
 which you impute to me." 
 
 " That, sir, I believe," interposed the Earl bitterly ; 
 " and now we understand each other ! " 
 
 " But if aught in me — my speech, my manner, any thing 
 that I have said or done — have given oiFence, I disclaim 
 all intention of doing so, and ask your Lordship's forgive- 
 ness most sincerely, and thankfully will receive it." 
 
 " You have it, sir." 
 
 " And now, my Lord " — 
 
 "Pursue the subject no further, sir," interrupted the 
 Earl, " lest you should clean provoke me out of all patience. 
 I know what you would repeat and reiterate. Would you 
 not be well pleased to see me accompany you, and present 
 myself with you in the cell of— of" — the Earl stopped, 
 shuddering, and recoiling from the presence which he had 
 conjured up. 
 
 " If you even did, my Lord, it might stand you in stead, 
 hereafter, before the awful bar of God, when you and I, and 
 this your abhorred and despised fellow-man, are standing 
 to receive our final and irrevocable judgment!" As Mr 
 
334 NOW AND THEN. 
 
 .Hylton said this, lie dropped his hccad invokmtarily, and 
 spoke in a very thrilling tone as he continued — " There, 
 also, will stand one who, could he now speak from amidst 
 the silence of the grave, would say only — Forgive ! in his 
 name, my Lord, I"- — 
 
 " Oh, you presumptuous, horrible, and most barbarous 
 person !" exclaimed Lord Milverstoke, starting up from his 
 seat, his features flushed, his eyes glaring with fearful 
 expression at Mr Hylton ; " is the grave not sacred from 
 your vile profaning touch, your polluting presence ? " — he 
 walked to and fro, apparently almost gasping for breath. 
 "Leave the room, sir ! — leave me ! — never let my eyes hght 
 on you again ! — you, whose miscreant hand would pluck 
 out my heart, and trample upon it and the mangled body 
 of my son together ! — Out upon you !" 
 
 " May God forgive me, my Lord, if" — 
 
 " Silence ! A word, sir, and you drive me to madness ! " 
 The Earl stood still for a few moments, pressing both his 
 hands upon his head. '' And all this— all this— to save"— 
 he gasped — " from the gallows — a wretch — a bloodstained 
 wretch. — Look you, sir, look ! So let him perish!" and 
 rushing forward towards the table, on which stood a large 
 and costly lamp, he struck it down with frenzied violence, 
 and they were instantly in darkness. " Begone, sir ! " 
 
 " I go, my Lord ; and so may not YOU go, hereafter, 
 into OUTER DAEKNESS ! Amen ! Oh God ! Amen ! " ex- 
 claimed Mr Hylton, at the same time slowly groping his 
 way towards the door, and along the wall near which he 
 had been standing. 
 
NOW AND THEN. 335 
 
 " Begone ! messenger of Satan, sent to buifet me !" cried 
 the Earl, with hoarse vehemence, stamping his foot furiously on 
 the floor; and when Mr Hyltonhad nearly reached the door, 
 and was considering whether he should make one more effort, 
 before quitting the Castle for ever, he heard a loud groan issue 
 from the Earl, and then a sound as of one falUng heavily. 
 
 Mr Hylton hastily opened the door, and with great 
 presence of mind, avoided calling out for assistance, lest he 
 should fatally alarm Lady Alkmond, whose apartments 
 were, though at some distance, in that quarter of the Castle. 
 With as little disturbance as was possible under the circum- 
 stances, assistance was soon procured for the Earl, the library 
 within a few minutes' time being crowded with servants 
 and others ; who, it may easily be imagined, were fearfully 
 shocked on entering, with lights, the darkened room, where 
 they foimd on one side of the library table the Earl stretched 
 insensible on the floor, and on the other the scattered frag- 
 ments of the lamp which he had, in his sudden frenzy, 
 destroyed. Happily medical aid was instantly at hand. 
 The physician resident in the Castle, in attendance upon 
 Lady Alkmond, expressed no surprise at the illness of the 
 Earl, whom he had known to be for some time in a state of 
 considerable excitement, and who had during that very day 
 complained to him of indisposition. It could not be for 
 some little time pronounced whether Lord Milverstoke was 
 suff'ering from an attack of apoplexy; but the remedies 
 applied had reference to such an alarming visitation, and 
 he was profusely bled on the spot, and then carried to bed — 
 a messenger being immediately despatched to the county 
 
33G NOW AND THEN. 
 
 town for tlie attendance of the consulting physician, a per- 
 son of great skill and eminence. IMr Hylton stayed for 
 some time, in such a state of anxiety and distress as seemed 
 likely, combined with his own long-continued excitement 
 and fatigue, to precipitate him also into serious illness. To 
 the amazed and troubled inquiries of those whom he had 
 summoned into the room, Mr Hylton answered merely that 
 the Earl had been engaged up to almost the last moment 
 in anxious conversation on the subject of recent events, and 
 especially upon one which would probably occur within a 
 few days. Fortunately, he was not asked how they came 
 to be in darkness, and the lamp broken upon the ground ; 
 and it was naturally supposed that the lamp might have 
 been overthrown accidentally in the hurried movements of 
 Mr Hylton in obtainmg assistance. As calmly as he could, 
 under circumstances of such an agitating kmd as those which 
 had happened just previously to his quitting the Castle, he 
 considered, on his ride homeward, what course was now 
 proper to be adopted with reference to answering the 
 inquiries which the Secretary of State had directed to be 
 addressed to him. As he conceived it requisite that no time 
 should be lost, he hastened on to the parsonage ; and in 
 time for despatch by that night's coach, which passed at 
 midnight through the village, he addressed the following 
 letter to the Under Secretary of State : — 
 
 " Parsonage, Milverstoke. 
 
 ^'Sn, 
 
 '' I have the honour to acknowledge the receipt 
 of your letter of the 15th instant, and to express the deep 
 
NOW AND THEN. 337 
 
 and grateful sense ^Yllich I entertain of Lord Farnborough's 
 anxiety to see justice done in a case which I humbly con- 
 ceive (however erroneously) to be one of peculiar difficulty 
 and responsibility. I made the representations to the Lord 
 Chief Justice, which were substantially of the nature men- 
 tioned in your letter, under a strong conviction of the respon- 
 sibility which attached to me in making them. I have now 
 to inform my Lord Famborough that, after great efforts, 
 and partly through an accident, I have discovered the nature 
 of the occurrence which immediately preceded Lord Alk- 
 mond's departure from the Castle to the wood. It consisted 
 of a conversation, merely, among some of the guests left at 
 the table, after Lord Milverstoke and others had quitted it, 
 Lord Alkmond remaining behind. A topic was casually 
 introduced, which led to rather animated conversation, and 
 which was observed to be extremely disagi'eeable, and even 
 painful, to Lord Alkmond, who took no part in it ; and, 
 finding it persevered in, quitted the room, and was not seen 
 afterwards alive by any of the guests at the Castle. The 
 gentleman who first told me of this circumstance was one 
 of those who had dined at the Castle on that occasion ; and 
 hearing, after the trial of this case, of a remark which had 
 fallen from the Lord Chief Justice, sent for me, and told me 
 of the fact of this conversation, but declined mentioning what 
 was the subject of it, until he should have received my Lord 
 Milverstoke's permission. I have just quitted the Castle ; 
 where, I lament to say, that while I was with his Lordship, 
 he was seized with sudden — and possibly, I fear, serious — 
 illness ; such as will probably render it impossible for his 
 
 z 
 
338 NOW AND THEN. 
 
 Lordship to do what he explicitly declared to me that it 
 was his intention to do to-morrow — namely, to write and 
 inform my Lord Farnborough, that the conversation in 
 question was on the subject of duelling. I conceive, under 
 the special circumstances of the case, that I am justified in 
 making this disclosure ; to which, however, I trust Lord 
 Farnborough will give no publicity, miless it be deemed 
 absolutely necessary for the ends of justice. I feel bound 
 in candour to state, that after anxious reflection during 
 this day, I am at a loss to suggest any probable connexion 
 between the happening of this conversation and the perpe- 
 tration of the murder ; nor have I, at present, any reason 
 to believe that more Ught can be thrown on the subject, 
 notwithstandmg the possibility of the fact proving to be 
 otherwise, were time allowed for further inquiry. And I 
 must add, that the Earl of Milverstoke has repeatedly and 
 most explicitly stated to me, that he knew no reason what- 
 ever for Lord Alkmond's being agitated by such a conver- 
 sation as that above mentioned ; and could not conjecture 
 what bearing it could have upon the horrible murder of the 
 late lamented Lord Alkmond. 
 
 '' I have been made aware of what passed before Lord 
 Farnborough and yourself, relating to this matter. I have 
 no new facts or suggestions to offer on this subject, w^hichl 
 must now finally leave in the hands of his Lordship, under 
 the direction of a superintending Providence. I cannot, 
 however, abstain from adding, that my own conviction of 
 the prisoner's innocence remains unshaken ; but, at the same 
 time, I cannot deny the strength of the case against him, if 
 
NOW AND THEN. 339 
 
 regarded solely with reference to the facts established at the 
 trial. 
 
 " I have the honour to be, Sir, 
 
 " Your obedient servant, 
 
 " Henry Hylton. 
 
 " The Hon. H. J. C. Wylmington." 
 
 " Alas, Adam ! my poor friend ! I fear all is over ! I 
 have done my best — but in vain," were the words with 
 which, on the ensuing morning, Mr Hylton led into his 
 library old AylifFe, who had come down to learn the final 
 result of Mr Hylton's benevolent exertions : having walked 
 for that purpose all the way from the county town where 
 his son lay awaiting death. Ayliife clasped his hands 
 together in silence, and looked unutterable things at Mr 
 Hylton, who seemed unable to bear the misery that 
 gleamed upon him from those penetrating blue eyes, 
 the expression of which he had, in happier days, so often 
 admired. 
 
 " Then he must die ! " faintly exclaimed the old man, 
 after awhile, his eyes never having wandered for even an 
 instant from those of Mr Hylton, who only shook his head, 
 in sad affirmance of Ayliife's words. " Oh ! let me return 
 to my son !" said the old man, slowly rising. " Adam ! my 
 son ! my son ! would God I might die with thee ! How we 
 could uphold one another in passing through the deep 
 waters ! Wilt thou not pray for us, sir, that God would be 
 with us in this bitter hour?" 
 
 " Ay, my poor brother, let us kneel before Him who will 
 
340 NOW AND THEN. 
 
 see, and hear, and answer us, though it may not be as we 
 would at this moment desire !" 
 
 Mr Hylton gently assisted Ayliffe to his knees, (for he 
 appeared bewildered, though he had spoken calmly,) and 
 sinking on his own, with faltering voice addressed a short 
 and fervent prayer to the Almighty, that He would vouch- 
 safe support to those who reverently strove, whether living 
 or dying, to yield themselves to His sovereign will in all 
 
 things. 
 
 " The blessing of an old man, fatherless, be upon thee 
 and thine, thou minister of God !" said Ayliffe, when they 
 had risen from their knees ; and his countenance, voice, and 
 gesture seemed, as he spoke, scarcely to be of this world. 
 
 '' Amen, Adam ! Amen ! " said Mr Hylton, grasping his 
 hands affectionately. 
 
 "Is it fixed that my son die on Monday?" inquired 
 Ayliffe, with dreadful calmness. 
 
 u i^ ig — alas ! it is ! " rephed Mr Hylton : " I see now no 
 earthly means whatever of delaying the day, or preventing 
 the execution of the law." 
 
 " Friday ! — Saturday ! — Sunday !" said Ayliffe, gazing 
 intently at Mr Hylton. 
 
 " Yes, Adam ; three days ! only three ! How important 
 are they for hereafter ! " 
 
 " And then my son is no more on earth ! Let me go to 
 my son ! T stay too long from him !" The old man rose 
 from his seat, and, walking slowly to the door, taking his 
 hat in one hand, and his staff in the other, exclaimed, as if 
 to himself, " Adam ! Adam ! I am coming to thee ! " 
 
NOW AND THEN. 341 
 
 '' How go you, Adam, my dear friend ? have you any 
 conveyance thither?" inquired Mr Hylton, earnestly. His 
 words seemed for a moment to rouse his unhappy companion. 
 
 " God will guide me ! If he do not give me strength, I 
 die by the way ; for truly, truly, sir, my heart is faint within 
 me, and my knees tremble ! " 
 
 " Kemain a moment till my return," said Mr Hylton, 
 hurriedly — and presently came back, accompanied by Mrs 
 Hylton, who, in tearful silence, assisted her husband in 
 pouring out a glass of wine, which the old man took with 
 thankfulness, his hand trembling the while ; and observing 
 Mrs Hylton in tears, he shook his head mournfully, attempt- 
 ing to speak to her, but his lips uttered no audible sound. 
 At that moment their little daughter timidly approached 
 the door, and, entering the room, stole beside her mother, 
 looking at those around her apprehensively and in silence. 
 Then the old man's feelings gave way, as he gazed at her ; 
 the tears forced themselves down his cheeks ; he shook his 
 head for some time, evidently struggling for speech ; and at 
 length said in a faint voice, " The Lord bless thee, little 
 one!" 
 
 " Lay thy hands upon her, Adam, and give her thy bless- 
 ing, thou suffering saint ! " said Mr Hylton : and gently 
 placing his daughter before the old man, he put his hands 
 upon her head, and solemnly and tremulously repeated his 
 words, " The Lord bless thee ! Amen ! " 
 
 Shortly afterwards he quitted the parsonage, and would 
 not hear of any assistance being provided to enable him to 
 return to the gaol. Mr Hylton pledged himself to visit the 
 
342 NOW AND THEN. 
 
 unhappy convict, if possible, on that very day ; " Though I 
 tell you, Adam, it will be a far sorer trial to me, than I can 
 well bear. I trust, however," he continued, with great 
 emotion, " that your poor son is satisfied that I have not 
 lightly lengthened his sufferings." 
 
 "Oh, sir ! reverend sir ! if it were lawful for man to bow 
 to man, my poor Adam would fall on his knees before thee, 
 and even kiss the dust off thy feet ! " 
 
 " Let him receive me calmly, Adam, I entreat thee ; or 
 I may not be able to discharge the solemn office which I 
 shall have gone to perform — to administer such counsel and 
 comfort as God may enable me. Farewell now, Adam, for 
 a while ; and tell your son, if I be not with him before you 
 are, that I am coming ; that I will not — I cannot — desert 
 him." 
 
 Within a few hours afterwards Mr Hylton, after a melan- 
 choly ride thither, entered the gaol, and took an opportunity, 
 before going to the condemned cell, of seeing the chaplain — 
 an excellent person, exemplary in the discharge of his duties 
 at the prison, and who had been unremitting in his attentions 
 to Ayliffe. The first word uttered by the chaplain concern- 
 ing him not a little agitated Mr Hylton. 
 
 " Poor soul ! " said the chaplain, " he is about to ask you 
 to use your influence, as a magistrate, with the authorities 
 (I told him that I knew it would be in vain,) that when he 
 has suffered, his body may not be given over to be anatom- 
 ised, but be buried in your churchyard, in the same grave 
 with his mother, and that you will bury him." 
 
 " I — I — cannot, then, see the unhappy man to-day ! My 
 
NOW AND THEN. 343 
 
 feelings are already overpowered. I am quite unfit to dis- 
 charge the duty which I came to endeavour to do," said Mr 
 Hylton 5 and his disturbed countenance and gestures con- 
 firmed what he said. " Is his father with him?" 
 
 " No ; he has not yet returned from Milverstoke. He 
 was to have seen you, and asked you, in his son's name, to 
 do what I have just mentioned." 
 
 " He has been with me," said Mr Hylton, almost in tears; 
 " but his heart must have failed him : he said not a word to 
 me on the dismal subject." 
 
 " That old man is piety personified ! His reverent sub- 
 mission to the will of God, in this awful dispensation of his 
 Providence, has made all my own past teachings, my dear 
 friend, seem poor and ineffectual — every act of my life, a 
 short-coming. His image is ever before my eyes — his 
 voice, solemn and calm, ever sounding in my ears. I sit, in 
 spirit, at his feet ! " 
 
 " I, my friend, have long done so ! — And his son : does 
 he waver in asserting his innocence?" 
 
 "No, not for a moment : he is firm as at the first — declar- 
 ing his belief that, when too late, it will be shown that the 
 deed was done by others, and that he knew nothing of it 
 whatever. Once he showed unusual emotion on the subject, 
 and, drawing himself up with an air of true dignity, if ever 
 I saw dignity in man, exclaimed, ' No murder could I do at 
 all ; but least of all could I strike, coward-hke, from behind. 
 When I think of tliat^ and that people can believe that Adam 
 Ayliffe, an Englishman, did so, I feel as though my heart 
 would clean burst, for shame and anger !' " 
 
''544 NOAV AND THEN. 
 
 Mr Hylton listened to this in agitated silence ; for he 
 could not speak. 
 
 " And, in truth," continued the chaplain, " there is some- 
 thing noble in the poor fellow's features, and their expression 
 is of a pure frankness, such as never, I am sure, masked the 
 heart of a murderer. I have come to your conclusion ; and 
 I terribly fear that this man is going to suffer wrongfully. 
 But what can be done ? Who is to be blamed ? Consider 
 that the gloomy position which exposed him to the gallows 
 was sought out by himself; and, as we cannot see with 
 God's eyes, human justice must do the best it can. I have, 
 I think, satisfied Ayliffe that a fairer trial than he had could 
 not have been. I have said to him, ' Had you been a sworn 
 juryman, as your father has several times been, and on such 
 a trial as yours, your verdict, on your oath, must have been 
 Guilty ; ' — and he was silent." 
 
 " In what state of feeling is he, now that he believes his 
 doom to be unchangeably fixed?" 
 
 '^ Then it really is fixed ? " inquired the chaplain suddenly, 
 and very gravely. 
 
 " I doubt no more that he will suffer on Monday, than 
 that the sun will rise on that morning. Alas ! I am too 
 well able to express that conviction. I have left no stone 
 unturned — have moved in high, nay, the highest places — in 
 vain. Only last night there was a truly awful scene between 
 Lord Milverstoke and me, the consequence of which I cannot 
 foresee ; for he was seized with a fit while I was with him, 
 endeavouring, to the best of my ability, to induce upon him 
 a Christian temper of forgiveness and mercy." 
 
NOW AND THEN. 345 
 
 " Is his Lordship, then, stem and implacable as ever?" 
 
 " Indeed, I fear he is ; but God grant that, in my zeal, I 
 may not have gone further than my duty warranted. My 
 heart bleeds for his sufferings ; so did it all the while I was 
 with him. But, alas! his will is as iron, seemingly not 
 softened by affliction." 
 
 " Oh, what a contrast — what a contrast to this old man 
 Ayliffe ! Before I leave you," said the chaplain, suddenly 
 placing his hand on Mr Hylton's arm, and speaking with 
 an air of peculiar solemnity, " let me say, that you must, 
 with me, attend the prisoner in his last moments ! He will 
 expect it — nay, I believe he will this day ask you to do so ! " 
 
 '' Oh, my dear friend," replied Mr Hylton rather faintly, 
 " forgive me ! — I pray you, cease ! Surely sufficient for 
 the day is the evil thereof!" 
 
 ^' True, my friend ; but prepare, you, for the painful 
 question : and therefore only do I mention it. And now 
 you must lose no time, if you would be of service to the 
 prisoner. You will find two Prayer-books in the cell : and 
 will probably see the prisoner reading in the great old 
 Bible of his father." 
 
 " Adam ! God be with you ! " exclaimed Mr Hylton as 
 soon as the turnkey had unlocked, unbarred, and thrown 
 open the door of the cell. 
 
 Poor Ayliffe rose eagerly, the clanking of his heavy 
 fetters sickening the soul of his sorrowful visitor, whose 
 hand he grasped convulsively, and then carried to his lips, 
 but spoke not a word. 
 
 " Alas, Adam ! I have only gloomy tidings for you, if you 
 
34() NOW AND THEN. 
 
 need to be told them : all earthly hope is now utterly 
 extinguished ! The day of your departure is near at hand. 
 I feel it a sacred duty to assure you that, on Monday 
 morning — on Monday morning^ Adam — the will of God will 
 be accomplished on you. Then He who gave you life, will 
 take it from you : He who placed you on earth, will remove 
 you from it. May you, Adam, be ready for that tremendous 
 change !" 
 
 Finding that Ayliffe was firmly grasping his hand, and 
 sighing deeply, but apparently not suffering violent emotion, 
 Mr Hylton, in a low earnest tone continued to address him. 
 
 "Regard this transitory life, henceforth, as over — fled like 
 a dream — gone as a shadow — yet leaving its traces in most 
 awful responsibility, on account of what has been done in 
 that brief space, in that fleeting dream and passing shadow ? 
 Look upward ! For that is your spirit formed — of that, 
 made capable. Be not disheartened, — be not presumptuous ! 
 It is fearful to look back on the long array of sins which you 
 have committed, known only to God and yourself, to whom 
 He may now have had many visible, which had before been 
 forgotten ! What sins wilfully committed ! what stifling 
 of the voice of conscience ! — what myriad holy warnings 
 disregarded ! Let not the foul tempter and enemy of man- 
 kind, in these your last hours, deceive you : be prepared 
 against him. He will strive, as I know he has striven, to 
 tell you of great sins, and little sins, and that none which 
 you have committed do deserve this punishment which is 
 inflicted upon you — nay, he will impiously tell you that this 
 death, which is coming on you, is unjust !" — Here Ayliffe 
 
NOW AND THEN. 347 
 
 heaved a profound sigli, but made no attempt to speak. 
 " Whether you die innocent of the crime for which the law 
 of man has declared jour life forfeit, God perfectly knoweth, 
 as you cannot doubt ; and if your conscience be herein void 
 of offence towards God and man, God forbid that such a 
 consciousness should nevertheless lead you down to destruc- 
 tion, by inciting profane and rebellious thoughts ! Adam, as 
 a servant of the living God, I earnestly warn you against 
 this deadly snare and danger, and remind you that, as you 
 cannot escape in anywise from the power of God Almighty, 
 you must needs resign yourself mto His hands, whose wis- 
 dom is imsearchable, infinitely past finding out, but also 
 whose goodness and justice are perfect and absolute : and 
 in this dispensation, which appears to you strange and 
 unreasonable, yet in a moment — in the twinkhng of an eye 
 — He could reveal abundantly sufficient gromids and reasons 
 for this His ordering. He may not be pleased to do so with 
 you in this life, though possibly, when you are gone. He may 
 vouchsafe to make plain all that now seems mysterious and 
 confounding. And He may not choose now to show you a 
 reason for what He doth with you, because He will have 
 you thoroughly exercise your faith and obedience, as the 
 condition of your immortal soul entering into happiness with 
 Him, that can have no end. And, though you die innocent 
 of this particular act charged against you, and so, in the 
 language of men, die unjustly — (yet forget never that this 
 evil overtook you when seeking revenge, and indulging 
 malignity most utterly abhorrent to God, and contrary to 
 all religion)— yet, Adam ! think of One who, ignominiously 
 
348 NOW AND THEN. 
 
 dying, asked that, if it were possible^ the cup of agony and 
 death might pass from Him^ yet submitted to the will of His 
 Father, and, knowing no sin, died yet the just for the unjust ! 
 Adam ! let this thought kindle youi' spirit into faith and 
 love ! " 
 
 ^'Oh, SU-, there — there are all my hopes: all is darkness, 
 but there ! And when I am, though only for a moment, 
 put oif that thought and hope, I sink ! and am quite un- 
 done ! " 
 
 This Ayliffe said very earnestly, and in a way that great- 
 ly consoled and encouraged Mr Hylton, who then spoke 
 long and movingly to him of the glorious but awful Pre- 
 sence in which they were ; and brought distinctly before 
 him the gracious promises, but also the strict conditions, of 
 the Gospel. Poor Ayliffe's answers told Mr Hylton of the 
 constant presence and teaching of old Ayliffe, whom Mr 
 Hylton likened to the guardian angel of his son. 
 
 "And now, Adam, one question I must ask you, and the 
 answer must be a true one, and it will tell at once whether 
 your peace and hopes for hereafter be well or ill founded. 
 Do you, from your heart and soul, forgive all mankind — even 
 those whom you think to have most grievously wronged 
 you?" 
 
 "Ay, sir, I do; God be thanked, I do!" repHed Ayliffe, 
 quickly and heartily, and with such a heavenly smile on his 
 features that ^Ir Hylton felt an indescribable awe in look- 
 ing at him and listening to him. 
 
 "Do you forgive Lord Milverstoke ?" 
 
 "Oh, sir, why should I be angered with him? His son 
 
NOW AND THEN. S49 
 
 has been murdered, and he thinks that I did that murder ! 
 But he has done nothing of malice against me, who die — not 
 through Ms will or moving — according to the law of the 
 land. Never in this case have I felt malice towards my 
 Lord, so God be my witness !" 
 
 "There is another, Adam," said Mr Hylton, pointedly. 
 "I know, sir, whom you mean — one that has truly been 
 my enemy, and the foe of my father and me." 
 "I mean Mr Oxley, Adam." 
 
 "I do clearly and perfectly forgive him, as I do hope 
 myself to be forgiven ; but I must say the truth, sir — it has 
 been a long and a hard business to do this. But God has 
 heard prayer for me, and helped me to feel the forgiveness 
 that I now profess ; and I hope Mr Oxley will, when I am 
 gone, bethink him of his unkindness towards those who 
 never injured him, and were striving hard to live honestly, 
 though near upon starving." 
 
 "And yet, Adam, is there one other" — 
 "Oh, sir, you speak of Hundle, that first led me into all 
 this. Whatever he has done against me, I have forgiven 
 — I do forgive ! He was a cruel and deceitful man to me 
 — but he must answer to God for it ! " 
 
 "And have you, Adam — it is my duty to remind you — 
 nothing to answer for against that man ? With God, in- 
 tended guilt is guilt — for He seeth into the heart ! " 
 
 "I know it, sir ! I know it ! " replied AylifFe, with a con- 
 trite air. "I went out to lie in wait for Jonas Hundle, 
 with foul ill-will : and Satan might have urged me much 
 further than I had meant ; for I will own, sir, that as I 
 
350 NOW AXD THEN. 
 
 walked in that wood, waiting to see him, when I thought of 
 him, these fingers tightened like a vice round my stick. 
 Oh, sir ! a terrible business it might have been !" 
 
 " And all this, Adam, fully seen and known by Almighty 
 God at the time ! The forgiveness which you pray for, 
 must first be shown by you — there must not be one spark 
 of animosity lurking in your heart, or it will pollute the 
 whole beyond cleansing ! And have you thus thoroughly 
 forgiven?" 
 
 "Ay, ay, I have, God being my witness ! and from the 
 time I first felt that I had done so, I was a changed man ; 
 and, even in these irons, felt for a while free and light- 
 hearted ! I have forgiven ! I do — so may God forgive 
 me !" said AylifFe, with a look of such meek sincerity that 
 Mr Hylton implicitly believed him, and said very cheer- 
 fully- 
 
 "Why, Adam ! God hath been with you ! and He is 
 with you, and will be with you ! " 
 
 " So T do humbly believe and hope, sir ; yet I feel often- 
 times sharp and bitter pains and pangs, and fall into dark- 
 ness. There's one — nay, there be more, that I leave behind 
 me — would that they went with me, if such were the will 
 of God, and so were quit of a miserable world !" 
 
 '^ Beware of such thoughts, Adam ! for they lead to 
 unholy repinmgs and doubts. God may have good, or 
 evil, in store for them ; but only when He pleases will they 
 go after you. In the course of nature, yom' good, your 
 virtuous father must follow you, and it may not be long ; 
 but while he lives, surely you will be thankful that he 
 
NOW AND THEN. 351 
 
 is left here to watch, for a while, over those whom you 
 love?" 
 
 " But, sir, there is a thing that does cruelly trouble my 
 poor soul : where is their bread to come from ? Who is to 
 work for them when I am gone ? Oh, sir ! almost my last 
 thoughts will be of that ! My child is a poor, little, weak 
 creature, and likely never to be able to stir for himself! 
 Now would I cry, and could ever, when I think of him and 
 Sarah : but I cannot cry ! Tears will not come, though they 
 might ease my heart, which feels hot and choked !" 
 
 " My poor friend !" said Mr Hylton, whose tears had 
 fallen fast, " believe me when I assure you that God has 
 already raised up a friend for those whom you will leave 
 behind you. Cast your care on Him who careth for you : 
 those whom you love will not, shall not, perish ; they shall 
 not come to want !" 
 
 Here Ayliffe put his hand into his bosom, and took out a 
 small packet, neatly fastened with thread, and opened it. 
 There were two small papers, and each contained a lock of 
 hair. 
 
 '' This is Sarah's, sir : and this is Adam's," said he ; and 
 he gave such a sad, heart-broken look, first at them, and 
 then at Mr Hylton, that the latter turned aside his head to 
 conceal his emotion. 
 
 " Ah, sir ! " said Ayliffe calmly, and sighing, " I wish my 
 tears could come ; but I am past it !" Then he folded up 
 the little precious remembrances, and replaced them in his 
 bosom. " Are these to be buried with me, sir?" said he, 
 with an ominous, a fearfully significant look at Mr Hylton ; 
 
352 NOW AND THEN. 
 
 who, remembering what the chaplam had prepared him for, 
 felt suddenly sick at heart. 
 
 "What answer can I give you, my poor friend?" 
 inquired Mr Hylton, in a low tone, looking down ; and there 
 was a dismal silence. 
 
 "Oh, sir, cannot you, being a magistrate, beg off my 
 poor body, for burial? Some pangs it might save me, to 
 think that I lay in the blessed earth of our churchyard at 
 Milverstoke, in my mother's grave — ah ! you buried her, 
 sir." 
 
 " I did, Adam — I did ; may you soon meet her sainted 
 spirit ! And why care about the darkened dust that you 
 leave behind you? K your spirit live for ever, in 
 happiness" — 
 
 " Sir — good, kind sir — I cannot help it ! It is the nature 
 that I am made of ! My flesh creeps to think that — that 
 this body " — he shuddered visibly from head to foot. 
 
 " Poor friend ! your feelings I respect — I would have 
 your wishes attended to ; but, alas ! I have no power 
 whatever. It pains me to remind you, Adam, of the 
 sentence" — 
 
 " Oh, I heard it, sir ! " said he, and seemed for a moment 
 absorbed in a sickening recollection. " I know that so as my 
 soul be right, it signifies little about my poor body ; but I 
 should not tell truth if I said that this thing did not grieve — 
 nay, fright me. How I do think of it, su' ! Do, sir, i^romise 
 to do what you can ! " 
 
 " I promise to do my utmost endeavour." 
 
 " Thank you, sir ! " he replied with a deep sigh. 
 
NOW AND THEN. 3.53 
 
 '-'• And now I must leave you, Adam" — 
 
 " He rose up suddenly, his irons rattling so as to startle 
 Mr Hylton. ^' Not — not for ever, sir ! " said AylifFe, with 
 wild alarm in his face, stretching his arms forwards. 
 
 '' What do you mean? " inquired Mr Hylton faintly. 
 
 " Oh, sir ! good, dear, merciful sir ! do come to me again ! 
 I cannot die happy if I see you not again ! " 
 
 "I will be with you again," faltered Mr Hylton ; and, 
 fearful of a more explicit promise being exacted from him, 
 knocked at the cell-door, which was immediately opened. 
 Then cordially grasping both the poor convict's hands, he 
 fervently blessed him, and withdrew, with feelings much 
 disturbed by the recollection of what had passed, and the 
 prospect of the dismal scene which, after his promise, awaited 
 him. 
 
 2 a 
 
354 NOW AND THEN. 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 Feeling assured that he would be too much agitated by 
 thoughts of the ensuing Monday morning, to admit of his 
 doing duty at his church on the approaching Sunday, Mr 
 Hylton succeeded in procuring the assistance of a friend ; 
 and when the hour of divine sei-vice had arrived, was thank- 
 ful that he had been relieved from a duty which he then felt 
 that he certainly could not have gone through — at least 
 with the requisite degree of calmness and self-possession. 
 
 When the congregation, which was crowded, and very 
 sad, saw Mr Hylton walk, unrobed, into his own pew, w^hile 
 a stranger entered the reading-desk, they too surely sur- 
 mised the cause ; and many eyed the harassed, benevolent 
 countenance of their pastor, with beating hearts. He was 
 once obliged to change his position ; for, as he stood, his 
 eye fell on the seats, now vacant, which had usually been 
 occupied by old Ayliffe and his son. Oh, where were those 
 two then ? Where would one of them be at that time on 
 the morrow ? There were portions of the sublime service 
 of the Church which fell on all ears, and sunk into all 
 hearts, that day, like sounds from the unseen world! — 
 When arrived at the appropriate part of the service, the 
 
NOW AND THEN. o55 
 
 minister paused for a moment, and amidst deathlike silence 
 said — " The prayers of this congregation are desired for seve- 
 ral persons dangerously ill, and for one appointed to die!^^ 
 
 The responses to the Litany were but faintly audible ; 
 yet they came from the depths of hearts smitten with sym- 
 pathy and fear. 
 
 All that day Milverstoke, though a secluded and rural 
 district, afforded significant evidence of the excitement 
 which pervaded the minds of those who lived in it and the 
 neighbourhood. Many strangers came to the church, both 
 morning and afternoon ; and were afterwards to be seen 
 talking in the churchyard, and at the doors of the houses. 
 As Mr Hylton, with Mrs Hylton and their Httle Mary, 
 walked on to the parsonage, the obeisances of those whom 
 he passed were silent and almost reverential — bearing 
 eloquent homage to his untiring, albeit ineffectual zeal in 
 the cause of humanity. 
 
 All were filled with concern at the final failure of his 
 exertions to avert the fearful catastrophe which was to take 
 place on the ensuing morning. The opinion of the neigh- 
 bourhood upon the subject had undergone a great change, 
 influenced by the profound respect which every one enter- 
 tained for the Vicar, his character, and talents. " If such a 
 man," it was said, and not without good reason, '' were so 
 satisfied of the innocence of Ayliffe, as to have persevered 
 with his strenuous exertions on his behalf even up to the 
 last moment, and had caused such doubts to be felt in the 
 highest quarters as had led to the fortnight's respite, which, 
 alas ! was so awfully to end on the morrow — there must 
 
356 NOW AND THEN. 
 
 be cogent grounds for the belief on which he had acted. " 
 Rumour had got hold of some of the circumstances on which 
 Mr Hylton had foimded his futile hopes — and those circum- 
 stances had been, as is usually the case, exaggerated and 
 misrepresented, but all in favour of Ayliffe. Vague whispers 
 were heard of something having occurred at the Castle, on 
 the night of the murder, of a mysterious character, connected 
 with the officers. Captaua Lutteridge's visits to the Castle 
 had been noticed, and also those of Mr Hylton. The sudden 
 illness of the Earl of Milverstoke, occurring just when it did, 
 and especially while he was in consultation with ]\[r Hylton, 
 gave a strange, dark complexion to the whole affaii'. But 
 the most substantial of all these matters, was that founded 
 on the facts which were alleged to have been witnessed from 
 the sea, on the night of the murder, — two men, no one 
 could conjecture who, seen running along the shore, as for 
 their lives, in a direction from the wood, not many minutes 
 after the murder had been committed! What was the 
 inference ? No one thought of the possibility that these two 
 might have been accomplices of Ayhffe ; but they were 
 given credit for having been the sole perpetrators of the ap- 
 palling murder, for which he was alone to die ! Then, upon 
 all this doubt and mystery, was brought to bear the excellent 
 character which he had ever borne — one perfectly irreproach- 
 able till thus accused; one of a generous, affectionate, 
 obhging nature: oh— said all — 'twas Impossible that he 
 could be a murderer ! Then thought they of the father ! 
 the wife ! the child ! Oh ! how this last was hugged and 
 kissed, — all unconscious of the cause of such accumulated 
 
NOW AND TllKN. 357 
 
 endearments — that Sunday afternoon, by the good, pitiful, 
 weeping womanfolk of the village ! With what awe was 
 regarded the shut-up cottage of the Ayliffes, on which were 
 written, in their eyes, desolation ! and terror ! and injustice ! 
 And, indeed, this dismal and mysterious affair had obtained 
 notoriety, not only throughout the county, and those ad- 
 joining it, but the whole kingdom. The murder of the son 
 and heir of a peer of the realm, and that one so powerful 
 and eminent as the Earl of Milverstoke, might well, indeed, 
 be regarded as an incident of national interest and impor- 
 tance. 
 
 The fortnight's respite had awakened, indeed, universal 
 curiosity and apprehension, lest from any cause there should 
 be an vmhappy miscarriage of justice, by the escape of the 
 guilty, or the sacrifice of the innocent. The authorities of 
 the county were prepared for the attendance of a prodigious 
 concourse, on the ensuing morning, to witness the execution 
 of one who was either most terribly and irreparably wronged, 
 or the most cowardly and bloody of murderers. Prudent 
 precautions were taken, under these circumstances, to pre- 
 serve the public peace. Many special constables were sworn 
 in ; every turnkey in the prison was armed, and their 
 numbers were doubled. A strong party of soldiers, both 
 horse and foot, was ordered to be in attendance, the former 
 under the command of Captain Lutteridge (who heartily 
 wished that he had been in another part of the country ;) 
 and they were to march into the open space in the centre of 
 the prison, at a very early hour in the morning. All this 
 had been deemed necessary by the High Sheriff, as a 
 
358 NOW AND THEN. 
 
 matter of precaution, in consequence of certain intimations 
 which had been conveyed to him, of its not being impro- 
 bable that a rescue might be attempted — as had been the 
 case, under less exciting circumstances, only half a year 
 before, in another part of the kingdom, where a man had 
 been executed who, being at the time believed, was after- 
 wards proved, to have been innocent of the crime for which 
 he died. 
 
 At seven o'clock on Monday morning Mr Hylton, pale 
 and harassed, made his appearance at the chief gate of the 
 prison on horseback ; having, not without some difficulty, 
 got through the throng of persons pouring down to the 
 gaol ; in front of which stood — sickenmg spectacle ! the 
 expectant scaffold, already surrounded by a great and con- 
 tinually increasing crowd — though the brief work of death 
 was not appointed to take place before nine o'clock. When 
 Mr Hylton had ridden within the gates, and before he had 
 dismounted, his eye fell on Captain Lutteridge, who, the 
 reins of his horse being held by one of his men, was walk- 
 ing slowly to and fro with folded arms before the troopers. 
 His features were stem and gloomy, and he returned Mr 
 Hylton's hasty and somewhat agitated salutation in silence. 
 It was a calm, bright, spring morning ; and the hedges and 
 trees which Mr Hylton had passed, Avere all beginning to 
 put on their glistening verdure ; and the birds were hopping 
 and fluttering about, free as the air, and chirping and sing- 
 ing merrily ! ]Mr Hylton had sighed only the more heavily 
 for observing them. He found the chaplain robed and 
 waiting for him, as they had appointed, and, without liaving 
 
NOW AND THEN. 359 
 
 spoken more than a word or two, followed him towards 
 the condemned cell, where, shortly after their arrival, the 
 Sacrament was to be administered. The door stood open — 
 three turnkeys being near it, on the outside, each with his 
 blunderbuss ; and Mr Hylton's knees trembled beneath him, 
 and he felt deadly faint, at the first glance he got of the 
 occupants of the cell — father and son silently locked in each 
 other's arms. Not a word had they been heard to speak 
 for nearly half an hour. 
 
 "Do not — do not disturb them ; I cannot go in," whis- 
 pered Mr Hylton ; and they both withdrew, returning to the 
 room which they had quitted. The chaplain spoke not to 
 him, nor he to the chaplain, for some time. 
 
 " But that my word is given to this poor soul, I could 
 almost pray to be disabled from witnessing this appalling 
 scene," at length said Mr Hylton. 
 
 "Courage — courage, my dear brother!" replied the 
 chaplain firmly ; " the voice of duty calls you hither ; and 
 you shall now see such piety and virtue in trouble, and in 
 death, too, as shall for ever hallow this morning's scene in 
 your memory. I have myself been on my knees, and in 
 tears, beseeching God that the lesson which I am this morn- 
 ing learning, may be written on my heart till it cease to 
 beat! and that He would give me fortitude fittingly to 
 discharge my sacred duties on this awful morning ! Be not 
 apprehensive ; our charge is subdued into a sublime calm- 
 ness, and has inquired after you with serenity almost 
 approaching to cheerfulness. There is with him at this 
 moment, as you indeed saw, a visible angel ! But now let 
 
360 NOW AND THEN. 
 
 US return," said the chaplain, observing that Mr Hylton had 
 recovered his composure. " All is in readiness for the last 
 sacred nte of our religion!" Again they set out on their 
 solemn errand. 
 
 " Adam, my friend," said the chaplain gently, on enter- 
 ing the cell, " here comes he whom you have asked for — 
 Mr Hylton!" 
 
 The old man and his son were still locked in one another's 
 arms, which, however, on the chaplain speaking, were slowly 
 unloosed ; and two such countenances presently looked on 
 Mr Hylton, silently taking his seat beside them, as filled 
 him with fear and reverence. Tearless were the eyes of 
 both, but there was immortality in their expression, a 
 heavenly radiance on their solemn and wasted features. 
 Neither father nor son spoke, while gazing calmly at Mr 
 Hylton, who, as he grasped a hand of each, felt them to be 
 cold as death ; but there was no tremor in them. After a 
 few moments they again slowly folded their arms round 
 each other. 
 
 " Speak, Adam, tell these good gentlemen what God hath 
 done for thee ! Speak, my son, for thy God ! Hath he 
 not taken all fear of death from thee?" said at length the 
 old man in a low tone, but with great firmness. 
 
 "He hath! and I know it is He that hath done it, 
 of his unspeakable mercy!" replied his son, who, leaning 
 forward, kissed his father's white hair with gentle fondness 
 and reverence. 
 
 " Here," said the old man, " is my only son ; God gave 
 him to me, and hath allowed us many years of love together. 
 
NOW AND THEN. 8(il 
 
 He is now taking him back again ! I shall stay a Httle 
 time after thee, Adam — only a little; and assuredly we 
 meet again ! " 
 
 " The blessing of the ever-merciful God be upon you, 
 Adam ; upon you both !" said Mr Hylton tremulously. 
 
 The prisoner slowly raised to his lips Mr Hylton's hand, 
 and kissed it. 
 
 " I thank you, sir, for coming as you promised ! But — 
 I cannot speak much," said he; adding, with an air of 
 infinite sweetness, " Oh ! what love and pity you have ever 
 shown me ! " Here the chaplain made a sign to Mr Hylton 
 that all was in readiness for the Sacrament, which was 
 thereupon administered with an awful solemnity. 
 
 When it was over, " How much longer hath he to live?" 
 inquired the father, with a faltering voice, as soon as he 
 had risen from his knees, and kissed the forehead of his son. 
 He spoke to the Under Sheriff, who had joined with them 
 in the sublime ceremony which was just over. 
 
 '' One hour and a half — or only a very few minutes more 
 than that," replied that functionary, looking sadly at his 
 watch. 
 
 " May my son and I pass that hour alone ?" inquired the 
 old man : and added, turning to his son, " Adam, wouldst 
 thou not rather that we spend this our last hour together, 
 with no eye on us but that of Grod?" 
 
 " Yes, I would," replied the prisoner, calmly ; " but oh, 
 sir! rememher!'" said he, turning towards Mr Hylton, and 
 fixing on him an eye of mysterious expression. 
 
 '' I do ! I will ! " replied Mr Hylton. " At the hour's 
 
3G2 NOW AND THEN. 
 
 close, I will, with God's permission, again be with you, and 
 remain ! " On this the prisoner grasped his hand with silent 
 energy. 
 
 " We will now leave you," said the Under Sheriff, " for 
 exactly one hour ; and then it will be necessary for you to 
 quit this room for another ;" by which he meant the press- 
 room, where the prisoner's irons were to be knocked off. 
 All then withdrew, and the cell-door was closed and locked. 
 Word Avas from time to time brought to Mr Hylton and 
 the chaplain, during the ensuing hour, that the occupants of 
 the cell were engaged in almost constant prayer. The 
 chaplain's room, in which, together with the Under Sheriff, 
 they were sitting, overlooked the yard where the military 
 stood : and shortly after they had entered this room, the 
 window being open, Mr Hylton overheard the stern per- 
 emptory voice of Captain Lutteridge uttering a word or two 
 to the dismounted dragoons, which Avere followed by the 
 sounds of re-mounting. When the noise thus occasioned 
 was over, both Mr Hylton and the chaplain distinctly heard 
 the confused hum as of a great multitude, apparently close 
 to them ; and such was indeed the fact — the governor 
 taking occasion, as time wore on, to come into their room 
 and inform them that the concourse without was beyond all 
 measure the greatest that he, or any one else in the prison, 
 had ever seen collected together ; but, he added, that the 
 road through which they should have to pass to the fatal 
 spot, was very short, railed off, and guarded by a strong 
 body of constables. 
 
 " And though we think it right to be prepared," he added. 
 
NOAV AND THEN. 363 
 
 glancing down through the windoAV significantly, '' at pre- 
 sent there has been not the slightest ground for apprehend- 
 ing any sort of disturbance." Mr Hylton took the oppor- 
 tunity of the Governor leaving the room to speak alone 
 with the Under Sheriif, on a subject which sickened the 
 speaker as he mentioned it. 
 
 "Must every portion — every portion of the sentence be 
 carried into literal effect, Mr Under Sheriff?" 
 
 '^ Certainly, sir," he rephed with a surprised air ; but 
 added quietly, '' Oh ! you mean, I dare say, whether the 
 body must be given up to be dissected?" Mr Hylton 
 nodded in silence. 
 
 " Assuredly," was the answer, " quite a matter of course, 
 reverend sir, however painful to the friends or survivors 
 of the criminal. It is a part of the sentence ; and can on 
 no account be dispensed with. Not," he whispered, with 
 a significant look, " if I may say it between us, that suppos- 
 ing great interest were to be made, more than a nominar^ — 
 Here the prison bell began to toll — oh! dismal, dismal 
 sound ! — and the Under Sheriff suddenly started, ceased, 
 took out his watch, and, observhig the hour, withdrew in 
 silence. In a few minutes' time, Mr Hylton heard a clank- 
 ing sound, as of one passing their door in fetters ; and, im- 
 mediately afterwards, the chaplain informed him that the 
 prisoner was going to the press-room, where his irons were 
 to be removed, and then the final preparations would be 
 made. 
 
 " Poor soul ! he will now soon be out of his misery ! " said 
 the chaplain : and, as he spoke, a turnkey came silently, 
 
364 NOW AND THEN. 
 
 motioning them to follow him. Mr Hylton, with a beating 
 heart, accompanied the chaplain into the chamber, where, 
 as he entered, he saw a turnkey in the act of knocking off the 
 prisoner's irons. Ayliffe stood erect, with calm and solemn 
 countenance, his eyes fixed upwards, and his lips firmly 
 compressed together ; while his father, with both his hands 
 grasping one of the prisoner's, had buried his head so that 
 his face could not be seen. The tolling of the bell at inter- 
 vals had an almost palsying effect upon the shaken nerves 
 of Mr Hylton. There was a petrifying silence for a few 
 moments, as soon as the irons had been removed from the 
 prisoner ; when Mr Hylton, with suddenly averted eyes, 
 then observed approaching one whose ghastly ofiice was only 
 too manifest. But at that moment a hasty step was heard 
 enteiTng the room ; and Mr Hylton, turning round, observed 
 the Governor of the gaol, with a face blanched by strong 
 emotion of some sort or other, rapidly beckon to the Under 
 Sheriff, who instantly quitted the room. 
 
 " I devoutly hope," whispered the chaplain to Mr Hylton, 
 with evident agitation, " that this is no liot or attempted 
 
 rescue i 
 
 f" 
 
 They both turned towards the door, which still stood 
 open, and Mr Hylton followed the Under Sheriff out of the 
 room. In a few seconds afterwards he lost all sense of what 
 was going on, and staggered unconsciously into the arms of 
 the Governor, as the latter uttered the words — '-'• A reprieve ! 
 Positively ! A reprieve !" 
 
 The Under Sheriff, with cool self-possession and thought- 
 ful humanity, stepped instantly back to the press-room, and, 
 
NOW AND THEN. 365 
 
 without entering, locked the door ; and then went to ascer- 
 tain, beyond all doubt, how the fact really was. That some- 
 thing extraordinary had happened was evident. Outside 
 was a prodigious commotion ; inside were Captain Lutte- 
 ridge and his dragoons, sword in hand, ready to charge at an 
 instant's notice : but, thank God ! there was no necessity for 
 their services. A confused cry had, some few minutes before, 
 been heard from the extremity of the crowd, which stretched 
 round a large building, so as to be unable to catch any view 
 of what was going on at the gaol ; but turning the opposite 
 way, on hearing sounds from that direction, they beheld a 
 startUng sight — a post-chaise and four, with a horseman 
 riding beside it, all at full gallop ; and inside the chaise 
 was a man waving something white. 
 
 " Stop ! stop ! — stop the execution ! A reprieve ! a re- 
 prieve !" was shouted by both the person inside the chaise 
 and the horseman without. The cry was instantly caught, 
 and presently an unusual thundering sound was heard from 
 the vast concourse, echoing the word " Eeprieve! reprieve! 
 reprieve !" 
 
 Eound the outskirts of the crowd was in a twinkling seen 
 dashing along towards the back of the gaol, where stood the 
 chief entrance, the post-chaise, with its occupant, and the 
 accompanying horseman, each of whom bore a precious 
 document, even under the royal sign-manual, both having 
 been separately despatched from London, to prevent all 
 possibility of accident ; and just eighteen minutes before the 
 prison clock struck nine, the two authoritative acts of mercy 
 were in the hands of those to whom they were addressed, 
 
366 NOW AND THEN. 
 
 the representative of the High Sheriff, and the Governor of 
 the gaol. 
 
 Ay, there had been no miscarrying — there was no mis- 
 take ! The swords, carbines, and muskets of the expectant 
 soldiery were not, thank God ! to be turned upon the vast 
 honest-hearted English crowd which stood outside, shouting, 
 till their voices were well-nigh cracked, " Hurrah, hurrah ! 
 God save the King ! ' ' 
 
 On hearing all this, Captain Lutteridge hastily dismounted, 
 and got sight of one of the documents which had proved of 
 such prodigious potency. He quietly read it all over, and 
 then somewhat quickly returned to the yard, and mounted 
 his horse. 
 
 " My lads," said he, addressing the soldiers, '' hearken to 
 me, do you see. His Majesty the King, whose servants we 
 are, hath been pleased to reprieve the prisoner, of his own 
 good will and royal pleasure ; whereupon, my lads, we may 
 by-and-by return to our quarters, and in your hearts you 
 may say, ^Long live King George ;' — though that, doubtless 
 you do always ; for you serve the best and greatest king on 
 earth, that is certain." 
 
 The Captain was even meditating for a moment an 
 extravagance, viz. to give his men leave to shout " God save 
 the King !" but discipline and a sense of dignity repressed 
 any such exuberant manifestation of enthusiasm. He 
 looked, however, at their pleased faces with great inward 
 satisfaction ; and a smile nearly stole over his grave rigid 
 features, as he said to himself ,— " Those lads of mine 
 are good lads; and methinks T know one that will 
 
NOW AND THEN. 367 
 
 make another of them, if this man that was to have 
 suffered be he whom I have seen about Milverstoke. 
 Piff ! paff! If I can only catch hold of this Ayliffe, I'll 
 have him pretty quickly clapped on horseback, and in the 
 ranks — and a better trooper than he will make, is not to be 
 seen. I'll warrant me he'll do a trifle of good service for 
 his most merciful Majesty !" 
 
 But tlie Captain was here reckoning without his host. It 
 was true that a pardon had arrived for poor Ayliffe, but 
 only a conditional one, and that condition was — trans- 
 portation to the colonies for life ! When the astounding 
 news of his deliverance was communicated to him whom 
 they suddenly snatched out of the gaping jaws of death, the 
 hangman had just completed pinioning the prisoner's hands. 
 
 " Loose those cords," said the Under Sheriff, as calmly 
 as he could ; and, holding in his hand the document on 
 which he was acting, he approached Ayliffe, and said, 
 " Adam Ayliffe, his Majesty the King hath sent thee a 
 pardon under his own sign-manual, on condition that thou 
 be transported for life. — God save the King : so thou well 
 may est say ! " 
 
 The prisoner staggered back for some paces before the 
 cords could be loosed, as ordered by the Sheriff. 
 
 ''Come, lad! come, come!" quoth the executioner, 
 following him, " take it steadily — take it quietly, lad ! 
 Thou'st plenty of time to think on't now, I assure thee, 
 both here and elsewhere !" 
 
 But Ayliffe still staggered back, with the appearance of one 
 stunned by some sudden blow. Then he sunk, with a half 
 
368 NOW AND THEN. 
 
 stupefied air, on his knees, with his hands clasped together. 
 From this position the executioner raised him, and seated 
 him on a form which was near. In a few moments' time 
 his face was covered with a clammy sweat — one, indeed, 
 which h^d suddenly bm'st through every pore of his body. 
 His grim attendant took out his pocket-handkerchief, and 
 wiped Ayliffe's face gently. 
 
 ^' Fetch him some water, Gregory," said the executioner to 
 his man, who in truth had not yet quite recovered his own 
 wits, which had been scattered by the suddenness of the 
 affair. 
 
 He soon obeyed his master, and in a few moments' time 
 returaed with a cup of water. Ayliffe, however, seemed to 
 recoil from the sight of it, and, as though with a choking 
 sensation, hastily motioned off the hand that held it to his 
 lips ; and there was horror in his eye. At length he opened 
 his mouth with a sudden gasp, and heaved a mighty sigh — 
 and another — and another. 
 
 ^' This is right," quoth the executioner, pattmg him on the 
 back ; " he'll soon come to himself. Nay, lad, don't be 
 frighted — I've done with thee ! Why — how thou starest ! 
 Well," he added hastily, whispering, as he heard the 
 Governor's well-known heavy step approaching the room, 
 " Good-by, good-by, my man. I do thmk thou wouldst 
 have done well, and stood it bravely outside !" 
 
 Ayliffe gazed vacantly at him, as the hideous functionary 
 slunk away — all present seeming to breathe more freely 
 when he was gone. 
 
 Old Ayliffe had fallen senseless on the floor the moment 
 
NOW AND THEN. Sdi) 
 
 that he had heard the Sheriff's announcement, and hiy there 
 for some minutes quite unobserved; those present being 
 sufficiently occupied with the person principally concerned 
 in that day's tragic and agitating proceedings. The rescued 
 prisoner, however, by-and-by recovered himself sufficiently 
 to think of his venerable parent : but by the time that he 
 was fully conscious of what had taken place, alas ! he foimd 
 himself the solitary tenant of a cell in the prison, whither he 
 had been conveyed, almost unconsciously, by the Governor's 
 order, for security's sake. In answer to his loud and 
 agonising cries, he was presently informed by the Governor 
 that his father was not well, having been somewhat over- 
 come by the suddenness of that which had just taken place. 
 The truth was, that the poor old man had lain insensible so 
 long, in spite of all that could be done for him, as to alarm 
 the gaol doctor for his safety. He was treated with all 
 imaginable kindness, and taken to a chamber in the 
 prisoner's part of the gaol — lying on the very bed which 
 had been occupied, some few months before, by his unhappy 
 son. 
 
 2 B 
 
370 NOW AND THEN. 
 
 CHAPTEE XVI. 
 
 There was yet another person then withm those gloomy 
 walls on whom the marvellous occurrence of that morning 
 had produced an overwhelming eiFect, and that was Mr Hyl- 
 ton; to whom alone was attributable, under Providence, 
 the deliverance of Adam Ayliffe from the ignominious and 
 horrible death which, to all human appearance, had been 
 inevitable. 
 
 Impelled by an irresistible impulse, and fortified by an 
 imwavering conviction of the prisoner's innocence, Mr Hyl- 
 ton on the Friday evening, as a last resource, had, relying 
 on the King's well-known sternly independent character, 
 written a letter to his Majesty, under cover to a nobleman, 
 then in London attending Parliament ; and with whom Mr 
 Hylton had been acquainted at College. He earnestly en- 
 treated his Lordship to lose not a moment in securing a 
 personal interview with the Kmg ; or, at all events, the 
 delivery into his Majesty's hands of the letter in question, 
 touching, as it did, life and death ; its object being to save 
 from execution, on the Monday morning, a man who was, 
 in the writer's opinion, as innocent of the death of which he 
 had nevertheless been found guilty, as the Secretary of State 
 
NOW AND THEN. '371 
 
 himself, to whom application on behalf of the convict had 
 been unhappily made in vain. Mr Hylton's letter to the 
 King was expressed in terms of grave eloquence. It set 
 out with calling his Majesty's attention to the execution, six 
 months before, of a man, for a crime of which three days 
 afterwards he was demonstrated to have been innocent. 
 Then the letter gave a moving picture of the exemplary life 
 and character of the prisoner, and of his father ; pointed to 
 testimonials given in his favour at the trial, and added the 
 winter's own ; together with the most emphatic and strong 
 conviction which could be expressed in language, that who- 
 ever might have been the perpetrator of this atrocious murder, 
 it was not the prisoner doomed to die on Monday. It then 
 conjured his Majesty, by every consideration which could 
 properly have weight with a sovereign intrusted with 
 authority by Almighty God to govern according to justice 
 and mercy, to give his personal attention to the case then 
 laid before him, and act thereon, according to his Majesty's 
 own royal and clement judgment. This letter Mr Hylton's 
 noble acquaintance, happening to be absent from town for a 
 few days, travelled thirty miles, at great inconvenience, to 
 lay before the King ; who did not receive it till past mid- 
 night, at St James's, and after he had been in bed for up- 
 wards of an hour. On hearing, however, from the nobleman 
 who brought the letter, that it was one of a very urgent 
 nature, concerning life and death, those who were intrusted 
 with guarding the royal repose caused it to be broken by 
 the delivery of the packet. His Majesty instantly got out 
 of bed, and, after hastily glancing over the letter, ordered 
 
372 NOW AND THEN. 
 
 Lord Faraboroiigh to be sent for immediately, with direc- 
 tions to bring along with him all the papers which he had, 
 or could lay his hand on, relating to Adam Ayliffe, then 
 lying under sentence of death for the murder of Lord Alk- 
 mond. His Majesty had paced his chamber many times, 
 somewhat impatiently, before his astonished minister arrived : 
 for the latter, being in bed when he received the royal sum- 
 mons, had had to go from his private residence to his office, 
 in order to get the documents required by the King, and 
 had experienced great difficulty in finding them ; all clerks 
 and others being, as might well be supposed, out of the way. 
 Immediately on his entering the King's antechamber. Lord 
 Farnborough encountered his Majesty, who with bluff 
 earnestness begged him to be seated at a table, duly furnished 
 with lights and writing materials, and then the King request- 
 ed to be informed of the whole facts of the case ; to which he 
 paid great attention. When Lord Farnborough had, in his 
 usual terse and emphatic fashion, given his own view of the 
 matter, assm'ing his Majesty, with expressions of profound 
 respect, that a clearer case for hanging there never had been, 
 if justice were to be any longer administered in the coimtry ; 
 his Lordship appeared confomided when the King said, 
 very thoughtfully, that he was by no means so clear on the 
 subject as his Lordship seemed ; and in fact felt so uneasy 
 on the matter, being one of life and death, that he could not 
 return to bed without deciding one way or the other. Lord 
 Farnborough assured the King that he need feel no anxiety 
 whatever on a matter which was exclusively within the 
 province of his ministers. 
 
NOW AND THEN. 373 
 
 " But look you, my Lord Famborough," quoth the King, 
 somewhat hastily and sternly, " suppose you and I differ on 
 this matter?" 
 
 "Please your Majesty, we are your Majesty's sworn 
 responsible servants" — 
 
 " So, so, because you are my servants, my Lord Farn- 
 borough, I am to be your puppet, eh ? — to register your 
 decrees, nolens volens I By those that begot me, and those 
 before me, but I will show you otherwise ! Look you, my 
 Lord, and all of you that serve me, I am set over my people 
 to protect them, and am answerable for them to Him who 
 set me over them : and if it cost me my crown, look you, 
 as I must answer for it hereafter, I won't see the humblest 
 creature calling me King deprived of his life, even though 
 according to law, {which can't give back life taken wrong- 
 ly,) if I in my conscience do verily doubt whether he 
 ought to die." 
 
 Lord Farnborough said something rather faintly about 
 a constitutional monarchy — 
 
 " Ay, ay," said the King, catching the word, "but I am 
 also a conscientious King, my Lord. My advisers may be 
 impeached in Parliament if they give me evil advice ; but 
 I have to answer to the King of Kings ; and none but a 
 King can tell a King's feelings in these matters. God only 
 knows what I suffered some half a year ago, in a matter of 
 this sort— eh, my Lord? What say you to that ? Have 
 you forgotten it?" 
 
 " Not at all, please your Majesty : but I take leave 
 humbly to represent. Sire, in the matter now before your 
 
o74 NOW AND THEN. 
 
 Majesty, that your Majesty, as the guardian of the laws, has no 
 discretion herein, but must allow the law to take its course." 
 
 '' I w^on't, I won't, my Lord. There are features about 
 this case that I don't like ; and, in short, I shall not have 
 this man die. Transport him for life, if you please ; then, 
 if we be wrong, he may retm-n: but — there are paper, 
 pens, and ink j pray, my Lord, let it be done instantly, for 
 time is precious ; I will put my hand to it now — and then 
 methinks I shall sleep soundly till morning." 
 
 " Pardon me, Sire," began his Lordship, with an air of 
 vast deference — 
 
 " No, no ! not you — I have nought to pardon you ; 'tis 
 another I mean to pardon" — 
 
 " Sire, this really is one of the plainest cases of guilt" — 
 
 " Did you not say the very same thing to me, my Lord, 
 on the occasion I have just spoken of?" inquired the King 
 with stern solemnity : '' did I not then say I had doubts ? 
 but I yielded to your certainty^ my Lord! And what 
 followed?" 
 
 " Please your Majesty, we are all frail ; all human insti- 
 tutions are liable to error" — 
 
 "Therefore," said the King quickly, "ought we the 
 longer to doubt in matters of life and death, my Lord." 
 
 " I do assure your Majesty that this interference of your 
 Majesty will give great dissatisfaction" — 
 
 " To whom ? Where ? AVhy ? ' ' inquired the King with 
 great dignity. " What is that to me, when my conscience 
 is concerned, who have SAvorn an oath, when God Almighty 
 placed my crown on my head, to cause law and justice, in 
 
NOAV AND THEN. 375 
 
 MERCY, to be executed in all my judgments? Who swore 
 that oath, my people or I ? I did, and, with God's assis- 
 tance, will keep my oath. And as for my people, they are 
 a brave and virtuous people, and won't obey me the less 
 because I will not again let any one die on a gibbet hastily." 
 
 Lord Farnborough remained with his eyes earnestly fixed 
 on the King, and his pen in his hand, which hung down by 
 his side. 
 
 ''Let it be done, my Lord," said the King peremptorily : 
 and his Minister obeyed. 
 
 Within a couple of hours' time, down went the messen- 
 gers of mercy, whose arrival has been already duly told. 
 The King went to bed very comfortably ; the Minister re- 
 turned to his, most exceedingly uncomfortable — with, as it 
 were, a bee buzzing in each ear, and tickling, even to sting- 
 ing, his consequence both personal and official ; expecting 
 to be questioned pretty sharply in Parliament on what had 
 taken place. He resolved, however, that then he would 
 loyally uphold his royal master's act at all hazards, and 
 give him full credit for the noble spirit in which he had 
 acted ; and he would ask, what if it should afterwards turn 
 out that, but for the King, this man would have been hanged 
 innocent ? And who should gainsay the propriety of the 
 King's reference to the painful occasion of a former, fatal, 
 and irreparable miscarriage of justice? 
 
 When Mr Hylton entered the cell where Ayliffe sat, now 
 not fettered, the latter sprung from his seat, and then drop- 
 ping on his knees, embraced those of Mr Hylton, crying 
 like a child. Yet he knew nothing of that last interference 
 
376 NOW AND THEN. 
 
 of his exemplary benefactor, which had saved him, at the 
 eleventh hour, from swinging a dishonoured corpse from 
 the gallows which was at that moment being taken down. 
 
 ''God has been very, very merciful towards you, Adam," 
 said Mr Hylton, " and your spared life will be a monument 
 of that mercy ! Adam, now that no power on earth can 
 again place you in jeopardy on this charge, I ask you, as 
 in the immediate presence of your merciful God, are you 
 innocent?" 
 
 "Oh, Mr Hylton ! oh, kind and most beloved sir! how 
 can you ask? Do you, then, doubt? Have I not just 
 been standing half-way in eternity, and almost face to face 
 with Him that was to judge me ; and could I stand there 
 with a lie on my lips ? Ay, I am innocent as my own poor 
 crippled child." Here he burst into an agony of weeping. 
 
 " Well, well, Adam, you must forgive me. I ought not, 
 perhaps, to have asked you such a question — I feel that I 
 ought not ; but you know not yet the immense responsibility 
 which I have incurred on your behalf, and in reliance on 
 your word. Adam, once for all, I tell you that I am as 
 thoroughly persuaded of your innocence of this awful crime, 
 as I am of mine own ; and may God himself, if it please 
 His infinite wisdom, one day make it plain to us, even here, 
 in this life." 
 
 Ayliffe answered, with a look and a manner eloquent with 
 injured innocence, "Amen! yea, Amen! Amen! sir!" And 
 then, burying his face in his hands, uttered aloud a few 
 words of fervent prayer and praise, to which Mr Hylton 
 reverently responded. " And now for Sarah, sir. Oh, 
 
NOW AND THEN. 377 
 
 Sally ! Sally ! Sally ! shall we, then, meet again!" exclamied 
 the poor prisoner in a passionate and frantic manner. 
 
 " Adam, try to be calmer ; it is very natural that you 
 should be excited " — 
 
 " Why, sir. Is she deadV said Ayliffe, in a whisper that 
 echoed through the soul of Mr Hylton, who was also startled 
 by the wild despairing eye which was staring at him. 
 
 " She is not dead, Adam," rephed Mr Hylton ; " and I 
 go hence to see her." 
 
 Ayliffe burst into bitter weeping, and sobbed, '' Oh ! that 
 I might go with you, sir, to see her dear, precious face, 
 though but for one moment ! " 
 
 " Adam, be thankful to God that it is with you as it is — 
 that I have now to prepare her, not for your death, but for 
 your preserved life." 
 
 " Oh ! yes, sir ! thanks be to God for His infinite mercy ! 
 I leave it all to Him ! for what have I deserved at His 
 hand!" 
 
 "What, indeed, Adam !" echoed Mr Hylton. 
 
 With infinite tenderness and judgment did he discharge 
 the critical duty which he had undertaken. His cautious 
 words fell upon the ear, and sunk into the fainting soul, of 
 poor Mrs Ayliffe, like drops, as it Avere, of living water. 
 What tears oozed from her closed eyes, and flowed down 
 her wan and wasted cheeks ! She knew not, so vigilant 
 had been her faithful attendants, at the repeated instance of 
 Mr Hylton and the doctor resident at the Infirmary, the 
 awful aspect with which had dawned upon her doomed hus- 
 band that memorable Monday morning ; and all that Mr 
 
378 NOW AND THEN. 
 
 Hylton dared to tell her was, that her husband's life was no 
 longer in danger. It was not till Mr Hylton was ridmg at 
 a brisk canter into the village, passing many old familiar 
 faces wearing an expression of tearful congratulation at the 
 issue of his humane exertions (the last of which, however, 
 had not then become known ;) nor till he felt ]Mrs Hylton 
 sobbing in his arms, and saw his little Mary crying she 
 scarce knew why, but not with an unhappy cry, — that that 
 pious pastor of his flock felt the full luxury of having done 
 good, and beheld upon his humble handiwork the radiant 
 seal of God's blessing. Oh, happy moment ! in which he 
 forgot all his past agonies and long-unrequited toil, and said, 
 with profound devoutness and self-abasement, ^' Not unto us, 
 O God ! not unto us, but unto thy name give glory, for 
 thy mercy, and for thy truth's sake." 
 
 About the middle of the next day he went out on foot, 
 some mile or two upon the road, to meet one whom he ex- 
 pected, and into whose wellnigh broken heart also, he had 
 been the honoured instrument of pouring the balm of con- 
 solation. 'Twas old Adam Ayliffe, who, as he approached, 
 was sitting between a farmer and his wife, who had gone in 
 their market-cart purposely to bring him home. The good 
 woman's arm was kindly placed round the spare and feeble 
 figure of the venerable sufferer, as her husband, on Mr 
 Hylton's coming up, stopped the cart. The old man then 
 tried to rise, but in vain, his knees evidently tottering under 
 him ; and with trembhng hands he raised his broad hat 
 from his head, and looked unutterable gratitude towards 
 Mr Hylton, who himself could hardly speak, as he grasped 
 
NOW AND THEN. 379 
 
 one of AylifFe's extended hands. His eyes were fixed 
 tearlessly on Mr Hylton for a long time, during whicli they 
 spoke volumes of thrilling feeling. 
 
 '^ God bless thy dear bald head, Adam !" said the 
 farmer's wife, gently pressing upon it his hat ; " do not thou 
 catch cold; the parson, belike, may come and see thee when 
 we get home." 
 
 " Yes, yes, I will," said Mr Hylton, and followed them 
 on to the cottage ; which, during the preceding day, and 
 that morning, had been got to rights and made very tidy, 
 against the old man's return, by some dozen eager and 
 affectionate pairs of hands ; who had trimmed the little 
 garden, cut the hedge, and cleaned the small windows till 
 they looked clear as crystal. Ah, dear little services, how 
 eloquent you are I — When the cart had arrived at the cot- 
 tage, old Ayliffe was carefully helped down, gazing at his 
 cottage looking so trim and tidy, with feelings not difficult 
 to be understood, but hard to express. Within was Mrs 
 Hylton, who had intended to come out and welcome home 
 the poor old man *, but on seeing him her heart failed her, 
 and she continued to busy herself with the little table, on 
 which her own hands had, shortly before, placed some small 
 matters of refreshment. When Adam entered, leaning on 
 Mr Hylton's arm, all who were present, and there were 
 several, rose and received him silently, being unable, when 
 they saw his face, to speak a word; nor could he, but shook 
 his head in silence. And when one of them, on his sitting 
 down, brought him his little grandson, he folded in his arms 
 its pale and silent figure, and presently his tears fell fast. 
 
380 NOW AND THEN. 
 
 They relieved him ; and by-and-by he was able to say, 
 though in a very faint way, " God bless you all, good 
 friends!" and he drank, without uttering a word, the wine 
 which Mr Hylton had placed in his trembling hand ; and, 
 perhaps recollecting on what occasion it was that wine 
 had last touched his lips, he looked upward with an awful 
 expression. 
 
 In the course of the next week, poor Adam Ayliffe was 
 removed, handcuffed, from the county gaol, together with 
 several other prisoners, and conveyed to a vessel in a neigh- 
 bouring port ; and thence was duly brought to London, and 
 placed on board a ship, to be conveyed abroad, in pursuance 
 of the grievous conditions of his pardon. He had spoken 
 scarcely a syllable between the time of his quitting the gaol 
 and being lodged on shipboard, a handcuffed convict, shunned 
 even by his guilty brethren as one stained with blood, and 
 unjustly saved from the scaffold. He resented no petty 
 mdignity which was offered him, and there were many, 
 inflicted by those who loathed the vile Cheat-the-gallows ! 
 His patient endurance they attributed to consciousness that 
 he had no right to cumber the ground, to pollute, by his 
 accursed presence, the land of the living. All this he bore 
 in silence. His big, indignant heart seemed constantly on 
 the point of breaking. Xo kind word to him ever fell upon 
 his ear. He felt desolate and blighted ; bearing the brand 
 of Cain upon the brow of innocence. 
 
 For he WAS innocent ! 
 
 The unfortunate Earl of Milverstoke lay, for a long while. 
 
NOW AND THEN. 381 
 
 in a most precarious state. The first words which he spoke, 
 on regaining full consciousness, after having remained with- 
 out it for nearly a fortnight, were to his daughter, who sat, 
 pale and worn, beside him. 
 
 "Emily," said he feebly, "let me, during the day, see 
 Mr Hylton ; " and he was obeyed. 
 
 When that reverend person seated himself, some hours 
 afterwards, in a chair placed for him beside the prostrate 
 peer, it was with mingled hope and apprehension ; for with 
 what feelings his Lordship might recollect the closing scene 
 of their last memorable interview, Mr Hylton knew not. 
 He gazed at the sunken features of the Earl with deep 
 emotion. 
 
 "Mr Hylton," said his Lordship, faintly, "have you 
 forgiven me?" 
 
 "My dear Lord," he replied, gently, " I have nothing to 
 forgive. Were you fit to bear it, I should ask you to for- 
 give we" — 
 
 "Do you think that God will forgive me ?" inquired the 
 Earl, closing his eyes. 
 
 "To be sure He will, my dear Lord !" replied Mr Hyl- 
 ton with energy ; " He will ! if He be but rightly asked for 
 forgiveness!" The Earl shook his head sadly; and his 
 wasted fingers, white as snow, grasped Mr Hylton's hand. 
 
 " May I — still — reckon on your pious services — towards 
 me and my family ? " 
 
 "Oh, my dear Lord," replied Mr Hylton, with subdued 
 fervour, "yes ! as long as I live, and it may please God to 
 enable me to serve you 1" 
 
382 NOW AND THEN. 
 
 ''There are those here," said the Earl, speaking, from his 
 weakness, with difficulty, "who love, who reverence you: 
 and I am one of them, but the unworthiest !" Again his 
 fingers gently compressed those of Mr Hylton, who was 
 much affected. "When I have a little more strength, Mr 
 Hylton, we will speak of that — of which we have formerly 
 spoken ; but it will be, on my part, in a different spirit. " 
 
 Mr Hylton bowed silently, with feelings of earnest respect 
 and sympathy, and also with others of a profound and agi- 
 tating character. For alas ! to him had been intrusted the 
 trying and terrible duty, undertaken only in deference to 
 the agonising importunities of Lady Emily, of communi- 
 cating to her noble parent intelligence, which had reached 
 her accidentally, and while utterly unprepared for it ; and 
 by which not only she, but shortly afterwards Lady Alk- 
 mond, had been fearfully agitated, and for a while pros- 
 trated. 
 
 Among several letters which had come to the Castle, 
 shortly after the Earl's sudden illness, was one marked 
 " Immediate " and " Private and Confidential," and bearing 
 outside the name of the Secretary of State. From this letter 
 poor Lady Emily leamt the lamentable intelligence, that her 
 brother, the late Lord Alkmond, had, when on the Conti- 
 nent, and shortly before his marriage, slain, in a duel, a 
 Hungarian officer ; whom, having challenged for some 
 affront which had passed at dinner, he had run through the 
 heart, and killed on the spot : the unfortunate officer leaving 
 behind him, alas ! a widow and several orphans, all thereby 
 reduced to beggary. The dispute which had led to these 
 
NOW AND THEN. - 383 
 
 disastrous results had been one of really a trivial nature, 
 but magnified into importance by the young Lord's quick 
 and imperious temper, which had also led him to dictate 
 terms of apology so humiliating and offensive that no one 
 could submit to them. Wherefore the two met ; and pre- 
 sently the Hungarian fell dead, his adversary's rapier having 
 passed clean through the heart. It was, however, an affair 
 which had been managed with perfect propriety ; with an 
 exact observance of the rules of duelling ! All had been 
 done legitimately ! Yet was it mueder ; an honourable, 
 a right honourable, murder : but murder as clear and glar- 
 ing, before the Judge of all the earth, as that by which 
 Lord Alkmond had himself fallen. When, therefore, thus 
 fearfully summoned away to his account, the young noble's 
 own hand was crimsoned with the blood which he had shed: 
 and so went he into the awful presence of the Most High, 
 whose voice had ever upon earth been sounding tremen- 
 dous in his ears, — TFi^ere is tliy brother f JVhat hast thou 
 done ? The voice of thy brother'' s blood crieth unto me from 
 the ground. Unhappy man ! well might his heart have been 
 heavy, when men expected it to be lightest ! Well might 
 his countenance darken, and his soul shudder within him, 
 under the mortal throes of a guilty conscience ! From his 
 father's splendid banqueting-table he had been driven by 
 remorse and horror ; for his companions, unconscious that 
 they were stabbing to the heart one who was present, WOULD 
 TALK of duelling, and of one sanguinary duel in particular, 
 which bore a ghastly resemblance to his own. Such poor 
 amends as might be in his power to make, he had striven to 
 
384 NOW AND T1IP:X. 
 
 offer to the miserable family whom he had bereaved, beg- 
 gared, and desolated, to vindicate an honour which had 
 never been for one instant really questioned or compromised 
 by his slain opponent ; and, if it had been tarnished, could 
 BLOOD cleanse and brighten it ? 
 
 All the money which he could ordinarily obtain from the 
 Earl, had from time to time been furnished by Lord Alk- 
 mond to the wretched family of his victim. For them it 
 was that he had importuned his father for a sum of money 
 sufficient to make for them an ample and permanent pro- 
 vision. Only the day before that on which he had quitted 
 London, to partake of the Christmas festivities atMilverstoke, 
 he had written an earnest letter to the person abroad, with 
 whom he had long communicated on the subject, assuring 
 him that within a few weeks a satisfactory final arrangement 
 should be effected. And he had resolved to make a last 
 strenuous effort with the Earl ; but whom, nevertheless, he 
 dared not, except as a matter of dire necessity, tell the 
 nature of his exigency. And why dared not the son tell 
 that to his father? And why had that father shrmik, 
 blighted, from the mention, by Captain Lutteridge and Mr 
 Hylton, of the conversation which had driven his son out 
 into the solitude where he was slain ? Alas ! it opened to 
 Lord Milverstoke himself a very frightful retrospect : through 
 the vista of years his anguished, terror-stricken eye settled 
 upon a crimsoned gloom — 
 
 —Oh, Lord Milverstoke !— and then would echo ui thy 
 ears, also, those appalling sounds,— lyAai hast THOU done ? 
 
 For THY— Honour ! also, had been dyed in blood ! 
 
NOW AND THEN. 385 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 Though no oue liked to own it, or much less speak of 
 it, the coming struggle for Senior Wrangler was pretty 
 generally felt in the University to be one, as it were, 
 between patrician and plebeian; since it had been for a 
 length of time perceived that the contest lay between a 
 noble member of a leading college, and an obscure sizar of 
 an obscure college, which had never before signalised itself 
 by producing even a creditable candidate for the laurel. 
 The aristocrat was deservedly popular ; a favourite with 
 every body. Handsome and graceful, engaging, affable, 
 dignified, and unaffected, there were also a certam charming 
 modesty and pensiveness in his demeanour, which some 
 attributed to the early and severe rehgious discipline which 
 he was said to have received — a notion borne out by his 
 exemplary conduct at college ; and others referred to pro- 
 found love of study. These appeared somewhat unusual 
 characteristics of the immediate heir to one of the most 
 ancient peerages in the realm, and its vast unencumbered 
 estates, — to wealth which made dizzy the heads of those 
 weak enough to contemplate the possession of it with 
 
 2 c 
 
386 NOW AND THEN. 
 
 envious longings. To its destined lord, however, it appeared 
 unattended with these effects. He was as assiduous and sys- 
 tematic in his studies, as though his daily bread had depended 
 altogether on his obtaining academical distinction. His 
 private tutor, himself a picked man, who had gained almost 
 the highest honours, gave out, from time to time, confident 
 assm-auces of his noble pupil's capabilities, and inspired 
 high hopes of honour for his college ; which, though a dis- 
 tinguished one, had not for the precedhig fom- years 
 produced a senior wrangler. But my Lord and his nume- 
 rous well-wishers were not, it seemed, to have it all their 
 own way : for it had slowly grown into a rumour, dm'ing 
 the year preceding the day of contest, that a person, of 
 w^hom scarcely any one knew or had heard any thmg, — m 
 fact, the aforesaid sizar, — was coming out to do battle on 
 behalf of his long unhonoured and humble college, against 
 the whole miiversity. The more that the matter was 
 inquhed into, the more exciting and interesting became the 
 anticipated contest ; shadowing out in the mmds of the 
 solemn and quiet men looking on, a certain battle between 
 Goliath of Gath, and one David. The tutor of the 
 favourite made it his business to become acquainted, as far 
 as practicable, with the real probabilities of the case ; and 
 the result was a very complete conviction that his pupil 
 would have to encounter, in this champion of obscm'ity, a 
 most formidable opponent, one apparently bom with a 
 genius for mathematics, and the hidden mysteries of physi- 
 cal science. A fellow, in the confidence of my Lord's tutor, 
 desirous of probing the proficiency of this imknown disciple 
 
NOW AND THEN. 387 
 
 of Newton, threw himself in his way ; and was pleased to 
 declare himself puzzled with a certain question in high 
 mathematics, which had occurred to him : {. e. he had 
 picked it out of a recently published foreign scientific 
 treatise. His teeth, however, presently chattered ; for his 
 difficulty was disposed of with a masterly ease, and also 
 with a certain scientific elegance, which, under the circum- 
 stances, were most unsatisfactory and alarming to him ; 
 whose genuine doubts had been solved. Who was this 
 person ? No one knew any thing of him except his name, 
 " Southern," and that of his college ; that he led a secluded 
 life ; appeared very poor ; was studious, yet by no means 
 devoted exclusively to mathematics, having such superior 
 classical acquirements as were unusual in the case of can- 
 didates for mathematical honours. In short, whoever 
 he might be, he seemed lilcely to prove himself a first-rate 
 man, and his college began to regard him with great 
 interest ; and its members, as the moment of contest 
 approached, went about talking with a mighty easy air 
 about the result. This led to increased energy and activity 
 of operation among a certain large class of ardent univer- 
 sity men, well versed in the pecuniary calculation of chances, 
 and resolute in maintaining, even at considerable risk, any 
 opinion which they might have espoused on a given subject ; 
 which in the present case was, which of these two will come 
 out senior wrangler? The higher class of men pretty 
 generally backed the plebeian; the lower, the patrician: 
 that is to say, the plebeians professed, and probably sincerely 
 felt, a deep interest in my Lord's success; while the 
 
388 NOW AND THEN. 
 
 patricians, and those of plebeian rank who were of natural 
 nobility, felt a generous interest on behalf of his Lordship's 
 obscure and unbefriended competitor. And it must be 
 recorded to his honour, that no man in the university could 
 surpass, in genuine and exalted feehng, that which animated 
 the young aristocrat towards his untitled and, so far there- 
 fore, ignoble rival. As the day of battle drew nigh, these 
 two met, not quite undesignedly on my Lord's part ; who 
 very shortly established himself deservedly in the high 
 estimation of his opponent. Each talked freely on his 
 respective prospects, each admired the other's modesty, and 
 entertained qualms, or sharp twinges of apprehension, as to 
 the result of the contest. Several times in the dusk of the 
 evening they were seen walking together ; and a striking 
 contrast was there in the outward appearance of those on 
 whose movements and prospects were now concentrated the 
 curiosity and interest of the whole university. One was 
 tall, slender, erect, graceful ; the other short, lame, and a 
 little distorted in figure. In a word, though no person in 
 the university knew it, one was son to the man who, nearly 
 twenty years before, had been condemned to the gallows, 
 on the false charge of having mm*dered the father of the 
 other! — for who else should these two be, but the Lord 
 Viscount Alkmond and Adam Ayliffe ! Strange, very 
 strange was it, yet true ; and while the two combatants, 
 Lord Alkmond and Mr Southern, are in honourable and 
 exceedingly eager strife together, for the mastery, — which 
 of them shall be declared THE FIEST MAN OF THE UNIVER- 
 SITY, — let us take a rapid retrospect of the interval of nearly 
 
NOW AND THEN. 389 
 
 twenty years wliicli has elapsed since those two young 
 men, — now walking together arm-in-arm, in amicable col- 
 legiate equality, each respecting, and fearing, the talents 
 and acquirements of the other, — were lying respectively in 
 castle and cottage at Milverstoke — oh, und^*what di^fe^^^^v 
 rent circumstances ! / ^ "" '^>T T TT 
 
 — Twenty years ! Prodigious interval '\ the life of man \ ^ . > 
 How blessed is he who can turn round t^^^^^e^japfe^'glj*^^^ 
 with reverent composm^e and thankfulness ; enjtr ^^ing'^ ^e^ 
 humble and well-founded hope that he has become a wiser, 
 a better, and a happier, albeit a somewhat sadder, man, 
 than when those twenty years began ! Though he has not 
 been cut dotvn^ has he, during all that momentous period, 
 been merely cumhering the ground^ remaining now barren 
 and blighted ? or diligently self-cultivated and nourished, 
 so as to thrive, and bloom, in immortality '? 
 
 Mr Hylton, the Earl of Milverstoke, and old Adam Ay- 
 liffe, still were living ; as also were some others who have 
 appeared in the former part of this history ; and how have 
 they fared ? what have they done ? what have they become 
 during those twenty years ? 
 
 Mr Hylton's hair is white as snow, but his eye is bright, 
 his face beams with a benignity which is endearing and 
 elevating to the heart of the beholder. Still he hves at 
 Milverstoke parsonage ; and his good wife, also stricken in 
 years, is still by his side, his cheerful, pious, and affectionate 
 helpmate ; his daughter, sole surviving child, has been 
 spared to them, and has become a woman, a charming 
 woman. But how many of his parishioners has Mr Hylton 
 
390 NOW AND THEN. 
 
 during these twenty years consigned to the tomb, reading 
 over tlieir remains, in solemn hopefulness, that sublime 
 sei-vice which he tmsts that some pious soul will by-and-by 
 read over Ms remains, when he also shall have become a 
 tenant of the chmxhyard, sleeping beside those whom he 
 has buried, his children — and tlieir mother ! 
 
 Upwards of a month elapsed from the time of Mr Hyl- 
 ton's first visit to the Earl of Milverstoke after his illness, 
 before Mr Ilylton deemed it prudent to communicate to 
 him the afflicting intelligence concerning his late son which 
 has been lately laid before the reader. There had been 
 reasons rendering it highly expedient that no time should 
 be needlessly lost in making the revelation m question, in 
 order to protect the Earl from harassing importunities on 
 behalf of the widow and orphans of the officer who had 
 been killed by Lord Alkmond, and whose case had been 
 repeatedly and urgently pressed on the Secretary of State, 
 through the intervention of the British and foreign ambas- 
 sadors. In spite of all the discretion and skill exercised by 
 Mr Hylton in making the agitating communication, it 
 almost prostrated the Earl, both in mind and body. For 
 upwards of half a year he lay at death's door; and for 
 several weeks was bereft of reason. During those benighted 
 intervals he not only raved wildly about his son, and the 
 fearful transaction in which he had been engaged, but let 
 fall expressions of dismal import, explicable only by a refer- 
 ence to some event of a similar nature in his own early life ! 
 He^ grievously reproached himself for not having instilled 
 into his son, from earliest youth, an abhorrence of duelling; 
 
NOW AND THEN. 391 
 
 for not having affectionately and vigilantly trained and 
 disciplined his hasty and imperious temper ; and, above all, 
 uttered lamentable accusations against himself for his hard- 
 lieartedness in not having yielded to his son's entreaties to 
 be supplied with money, (he had asked a sum of five thou- 
 sand poimds,) and encouraged him to disclose that which so 
 evidently oppressed his mind. And even after the Earl 
 had recovered the use of his reason, he would talk in the 
 same strain to Mr Hylton ; and began to express a suspicion 
 lest the death of Lord Alkmond should, in some mysterious 
 and horrid way unknown, have had a connexion with his 
 fatal duel. That idea had presented itself, indeed, to Mr 
 Hylton's mind. He thought it by no means impossible, 
 that some friend or member of the family of Lord Alkmond's 
 victim, had come over to this country, impelled by a deadly 
 spirit of revenge, tracked out Lord Alkmond's path, patient- 
 ly waited on his movements, and seized the first fitting 
 opportunity to destroy him. Might not the assassin or 
 assassins be the persons who had been seen by the sailor 
 Harrup, from the sea, running along the shore, in a direc- 
 tion from the woods ? 
 
 But the Earl of Milverstoke soon abandoned such ideas 
 as chimerical, and recurred to his original opinion that the 
 murderer had been none other than Ayliffe ; whose rescue 
 from the gallows was a subject on which the Earl never 
 touched with Mr Hylton ; retaining his stern and sincere 
 conviction and belief, that by Ayliffe's escape, justice had 
 been defeated. But what a vast change in his opinions, 
 and in the whole temper of his soul, had been effected by 
 
392 NOW AND THEN. 
 
 the dreadful discovery of his son's sangumarj duel ! Lord 
 Milverstoke"s angry rebellious feelings were quelled, and 
 awed into a submissive recognition of God's moral govern- 
 ment of the world ; and he was terrified by the glimpses 
 which he had obtained of His retributive justice. Declar- 
 ations of Scripture, which had never before attracted his 
 attention, now gleamed before his eyes with a new aspect, 
 and appeared invested with a tremendous significance. 
 Verily He is a God that judgeth in the earth ! Vengeance 
 helongeth unto me^ I will recompense^ saith the Lord I It is 
 a fearful thing to fall into the hands of the living God! How 
 amazing — how appalling — appeared now the indifference 
 with which he had ever, till then, read and heard language 
 such as this ! Now^ it smote and shook his very soul with- 
 in him. He dared hardly think of the startHng assurance 
 that the sins of the father might he visited uj^on the children 
 — yea^ even to the third and fourth generation ! What 
 ghastly light was thus reflected upon the death of his son ! 
 How impious seemed now the father's persevering accu- 
 sation against the Most High, of hard and unreasonable deal- 
 ing with His creatures ! AVhen his thoughts wore this 
 terrifying complexion, he would abandon — but, alas ! only 
 for a moment — his vindictive and implacable feelings to- 
 wards Ayliffe, and cease to mmTnur at the dispensation of 
 Providence, by which his life had been saved. "Even 
 were he guilty," — an awful voice, within, sometimes asked 
 the Earl of Milverstoke, "is it for thee to complain that 
 the vengeance of Heaven tarneth?" and for a while he 
 would be speechless. 
 
NOW AND THEN. 393 
 
 Milverstoke became intolerable to the Earl: whose 
 gloomy, unquiet, and still but half-subdued spirit, dreaded 
 solitude equally with society. How could he walk, as 
 theretofore, in woods, which now seemed ever shrouded 
 beneath an ensanguined haze ! How appalling the silence 
 ever reigning within the magnificent apartments of his 
 Castle — of that stately structure where had lain so recently 
 the bleeding remains of his son — for which it had served 
 but as a vast and dismal mausoleum ! As soon, therefore, 
 as his shattered condition would admit of his doing so, he 
 removed, with his family, to another of his residences in a 
 distant part of England, not haunted with such maddening 
 associations as that which he had quitted, and, as he purposed, 
 for ever. There was one person whom he was deeply 
 affected in taking leave of, and that was Mr Hylton, whose 
 character, having always respected, he now regarded with 
 reverence. In him the Earl saw lofty purpose, in him 
 inflexible rectitude; purity unsuUied ; a meekness which 
 could never be ruffled or disturbed ; a simplicity, strength, 
 and dignity of character, the foundations of which were 
 laid in profound Christian humility and faith. A thousand 
 softening and self-reproaching recoflections cherished the 
 Earl, of this good man's patient gentleness under galling 
 insult, such as his Lordship now felt would have infuriated 
 most, if not all others whom he had ever known in life. Mr 
 Hylton had, however, borne it in silence, yet without, on the 
 one hand, surrendering an iota of his self-respect or inde- 
 pendence ; or, on the other, exhibiting the faintest approach 
 to resentment. With what affectionate and persevering 
 
394 NOW AND THEN. 
 
 faithfubiess, vritli what umvavering firmness, with what im- 
 Ijafflccl sldlfulncss, had this, his spu'itual physician, probed the 
 unsoimdness of his spirit, and then appUed to it the cleansing 
 and heaUng influences of religion ! Ai\d even yet how 
 much remained to be done, before the Earl could dare to look 
 back without blighting terror, or contemplate the future 
 with any degree of calmness and hope ! — Alas, not once 
 from those rigid lips had fallen a word of forgiveness towards 
 the supposed slayer of his peace ! The language of those 
 lips was, and ever had been, truth and sincerity. Such, also, 
 were the regulating principles of his conduct ; yet without 
 the one missing element^ all w^as the very blackness of 
 darkness, and hopeless, eternal exclusion from heaven. 
 This Mr Hylton felt, and fearfully felt; and the more, 
 because to such absolute and intimate certainty had not yet 
 attained he whom it so awfully concerned. All these 
 anxieties crowded into his mind, and many of them into that 
 of the Earl, as his white attenuated hand finally grasped 
 that of Mr Hylton, before the equipage rolled away which 
 contained Lord Milverstoke, his beautiful but saddened 
 daughter, and the lovely widowed mother of the little 
 unconscious heir to all his earthly wealtli, greatness, honour, 
 and ancient lineage. The little lips of the living Lord 
 Alhnond! ]\[r Hylton solemnly pressed with his own. In 
 the Earl's presence ; and, with a voice and look pregnant 
 with mysterious significance and w^arning, said to liim, 
 " Remember !" His Lordship leaned back in silence in his 
 carriage, and a few moments afterwards had commenced 
 his long journey. Both his lovely companions wept much : 
 
NOW AND THEN. 395 
 
 and as for Lady Emily, she had thrown her arms round Mr 
 and Mrs Hylton, and kissed them again and again Avith all 
 a daughter's fondness ; and into J\Ir Hylton's ear she softly 
 whispered the word which he afterwards uttered to her noble 
 father, ^^ Eemember !" By that word he had signified, 
 " Forget not our many discoursings together, nor that 
 glorious and awful Volume which is now beginning to shine 
 before your hitherto unseeing eyes, in letters of living light. 
 Abhor yourself ! Look withm, and see in your heart a nest 
 of serpents ! Pray that they die, and disappear ! — that 
 pride and revenge may perish ! Forgive, or ask not to be 
 forgiven, lest you offend the awful majesty of Heaven, and 
 draw down perdition upon your soul ! Adore the Unsearch- 
 able, the Just, the Merciful ; but only through Him whom 
 He hath sent ! Tremble as you look on that little one, 
 upon whom all your earthly hopes are fixed — whom you 
 have chosen to make the pride and mainstay of your house ! 
 Let him be to you, not a vain idol, but a precious memento 
 of your duty and your allegiance to Heaven, in whose anger 
 this desire of your eyes may mstantly wither and vanish. 
 Look upon him, and tremblingly remember the doings of 
 his progenitors!" The Lady Emily's "Eemember" said 
 gentler things ! "On me rest the succour of those who are 
 objects, alas! of my father's seemingly implacable animosity. 
 But remember the reverence which is due to him from me, 
 as a most loving daughter !" 
 
 So departed the lordly occupants of Milverstoke Castle. 
 Lady Emily's injimctions related to the father, wife, and son 
 of the banished Ayliffe, of whose innocence she entertained, 
 
396 NOW AND THEN. 
 
 in confident and not unjustifiable reliance on Mr Hylton, 
 a firm conviction. Her father's unbounded liberality gave 
 her ample opportunity for carrying her generous purposes 
 into effect, unknown to him, through the agency of Mr 
 Hylton. She settled on old Ayliife a small weekly allow- 
 ance, sufficient for his modest wants, without the necessity 
 of exertions, for which his years and his sufferings had 
 incapacitated him. She contrived also, through Mr Hylton, 
 to find n'leans of sending Mrs Aylifi'e, on her passionate 
 entreaty, to follow her husband to the plantations, about a 
 year after liis ignominious banishment ; that being the ear- 
 liest moment that her shattered health would permit. And 
 as for the wretched little Adam, Lady Emily had declared 
 that he should become her child — that she would be wholly 
 answerable for his support. 'Twas agony to the mother to 
 part with her child — but the representations of Mr Hylton 
 prevailed : even had there not existed difficulties almost 
 insurmountable in the way of her child's accompanying her 
 abroad, instead of remaining at home to receive the kind 
 support and superintendence of Mr Hylton. Shortly before 
 Mrs Ayliffe's departure to rejoin her unfortunate husband, 
 Mr Hylton arranged that the woman to whom the care of 
 her infant had been committed on the arrest of his father, 
 should take up her abode with her little charge at the cot- 
 tage of old Aylifi'e ; and a touching and pleasant sight it 
 was to behold the venerable sorrow-stricken grandfather 
 betimes familiarising the child with the Book to which 
 alone, throughout life, he had himself clung for consolation 
 and succour. 'Twas he who taught the child his letters. 
 
NOW AND THEN. 397 
 
 being as patient a teacher as the learner was apt and docile. 
 It seemed, indeed, as if Providence had compensated that 
 poor little being's physical deficiencies by intellect];<al endow- 
 ments of a superior order. From a very early age, his pale 
 placid features evinced decided thoughtfulness. It was not 
 timidity that characterised his demeanour and deportment, 
 but a contemplative temperament, conjoined with possibly 
 a painful sense, increasing with his years, of physical infe- 
 riority — a combination of conditions which soon attracted 
 the notice of an observer so acute and affectionately watch- 
 ful as Mr Hylton. He thought that the child exhibited 
 precocity ; but judiciously acted as though it had not. The 
 death of his attentive nurse, when he was about four years 
 old, enabled Mr Hylton, with the consent of old Ayliffe, 
 wrimg from him, however, with infinite reluctance, to carry 
 into effect a scheme which had occurred to him, namely, 
 the removal of the child to a distance from Milverstoke, 
 and under another name, in order to avoid the fatal preju-^ 
 dice attached to the blighted name which he bore — that of 
 a convicted murderer — who, as such, was generally believed 
 to have unjustly escaped the gallows through the caprice or 
 timidity of the King. Mr Hylton's indefatigable zeal over- 
 came several difficulties in his way, apparently trivial, but 
 practically not a little embarrassing ; and he ultimately suc- 
 ceeded, with the assistance of a clerical relative living in a 
 village on the furthest outskirts of an adjoining county, in 
 placing the child, under the name of Southern, in the house, 
 and under the care, of a village schoolmaster — a person of 
 much higher qualifications than were requisite for the 
 
398 NOW AND THEN. 
 
 humble sphere which he then occupied, and to which he had 
 been reduced by misfortune. In a much shorter time than 
 Mr Ilylton coukl have anticipated, he was gratified by 
 receiving more and more decisive, and indeed sm-prising, 
 reports of the chikl's capacity and progress ; who presently 
 evinced, over and above his general talents, such a mathe- 
 matical faculty, as quickly placed him beyond the reach of 
 his master, and commended him to the special notice of the 
 clergyman whom Mr Hylton had interested m his behalf, 
 and who, like Mr Hylton, had taken high honours at Cam- 
 bridge. Mr Hylton went over to see his charge regidarly 
 once a month, and personally ascertained how well fomided 
 were the reports which he had received of the child's 
 advancement. The two parsons often laid their good heads 
 together on the subject ; and at length Mr Hylton, relying 
 on the secret and most efficient patronage of Lady Emily, 
 resolved to give the child a splendid start, as he called it, 
 and put him into a position which would enable him to make 
 the best of his rare talents. In short, Mr Hylton resolved, 
 but with a sort of inward spasm when he reflected on the 
 boldness of the enterprise, to give him the advantage of a 
 university education. With Lady Emily's full concurrence, 
 young Southern, as soon as he was deemed by Mr Hylton 
 duly quahfied, was estabUshed as a sizar at a quiet and 
 obscure college at Cambridge, with a few affectionate 
 cautions from Mr Hylton as to the course of conduct to be 
 pursued there. Without distinctly intimating why, he told 
 Southern to regard himself as an orphan, whose continuance 
 at the university depended solely on the successful use which 
 
NOW AND THEN. 399 
 
 lie might make of such rare advantages as had been provi- 
 dentially conferred upon him. Good Mr Ilylton's heart 
 yearned towards the modest youth m saying all this, which 
 he felt to be indeed needless ; and, when looking at his pale 
 countenance, the lineaments of which betokened humility 
 and goodness, while his dark eyes beamed with unerring- 
 indications of intellect and genius, Mr Hylton's thoughts 
 reverted to a memorable scene of that youth's infancy, when 
 he lay uneasy, and yet unconscious of his position, in the 
 lap of an innocent, manacled, fettered, and nearly maddened 
 father, about to swing from the gibbet as a foul and cowardly 
 mm^derer ! 
 
 " Well, my good lad," said Mr Hylton, his voice a little 
 tremulous, on first leavmg him in his tmy room, '' give me 
 thy hand : God's good Providence hath brought thee hither, 
 and may His smile be upon thee ! Ay, lad," Mr Hylton 
 added, more firmly grasping his hand, '' the smile of Him 
 from loliom cometh every good and j^erfect gift I God bless 
 thee, my lad ! One day thou wilt perhaps see a very angel 
 upon this earth, whose finger hath pointed thy way hither : 
 but of this inquire and speak never a word to any one, as 
 thou lovest me, and wouldst remain here ! " 
 
 Southern listened to all this with a beating heart, full of 
 tenderness, gratitude, fear, hope, and wonder, — but withal, 
 a sustaining sense of capacity and power : alone, as he was 
 amongst so many — the great, the wealthy, the proud, — all 
 of whom, whatever their disposition, would, had they known 
 who he was, have spm-ned him, or shrunk from him, as one 
 in whose veins ran the black and corrupted blood of heredi- 
 
400 NOW AND THEN. 
 
 tary crime ! Poor youth ! Happy, happy, was thy ignor- 
 ance ; and humane were the object and pui-pose of those who 
 placed thee in it ! 
 
 Another there was, however, of nearly the same age as 
 Southern — but how differently circumstanced ! — with what 
 different feelings regarded by those who surrounded him ! — 
 whose hearts he gladdened by displaying true nobility of 
 disposition, as he grew up, and unequivocally superior intel- 
 lectual endowments. This was the grandson of the Earl of 
 Milverstoke, the youthful Viscount Alkmond. Living, as 
 he had, in the presence of those who regarded him, so to 
 speak, as the very a^i^le of their eye, watching his every 
 movement with lynx-like vigilance and unutterable love, yet 
 had he breathed the pure and invigorating air of moral and 
 religious discipline. He was regarded by those who sur- 
 rounded him as indeed a precious trust from Heaven, an 
 earnest and pledge of forgiveness and happiness here and 
 hereafter ! His ripening intellect was trained and cultivated 
 by the most consummate skill which could be pressed into 
 the responsible service. His temper was calm, mild, self- 
 denying ; and so unaffected and humble, that he seemed 
 really scarcely aware of the resplendent position which he 
 occupied, and was apparently destined to grace and dignify. 
 Oh, with what thrilling emotions of solicitous fondness, of 
 well-warranted exultation, would his widowed mother gaze 
 on his noble features, and the winning but pensive smile 
 which played over them ! Who but she could tell the feel- 
 ings with which she often detected in them the highest ex- 
 pression that she had ever seen in those of his unhappy 
 
NOW AND THEN. 401 
 
 departed father ! Who could sound the awful depth of those 
 reflections into which the Earl of Milverstoke would sink, 
 when he regarded that son of a murdered father — and he 
 the son of a father — that grandson of one who — the Earl 
 would tremble when thoughts like these presented themselves 
 — thoughts which flung him prostrate before the awfid foot- 
 stool of Mercy — and even there would he lie quaking with 
 terror, yet — God be thanked ! — not in despair. 
 
 Every year were Mr and Mrs Hylton visitors at the 
 picturesque and splendid residence to which the Earl had 
 betaken himself on quitting Milverstoke. The presence of 
 that minister of God served at once to humble and exalt 
 those to whom he came, radiant with the pure influences of 
 piety and virtue, which, in his meek presence, shone, as it 
 were, before their very eyes. And, when absent, still year 
 after year came from him many missives of earnest and 
 faithful teaching : soul-subduing, soul-elevating ; entering 
 into his inner man, and seeking to expel all that could de- 
 file the temple of the living God. And he had, indeed, at 
 length sapped the foundations of PEIDE : the pillar which 
 had stood upon it, in black and hideous strength and height, 
 had fallen, and lay crushed in visible fragments around. 
 Yet was there another, apparently adamantine and inaces- 
 sible : alas ! still continued the Earl utterly unforgiving ! 
 And the subtle fiend, who ever hovered around so coveted 
 a victim, to him invisible, but visible to the eyes of the 
 minister of Christ, supplied reasons which seemed mianswer- 
 able, for perseverance in blind and deadly infatuation. In 
 vain presented Mr Hylton to the shuddering averted eye of 
 
 2 D 
 
402 NOW AND THEN. 
 
 the Earl, moving pictures of the deserted and desolate 
 father of the heart-broken exile ; of blameless life, of exalted 
 piety, of miswerving faith, of liearty forgiveness of injury : 
 the more vivid the colouruig, the nearer came the awe- 
 inspiring figure — the hastier and a;agrier was the retreat of 
 the inexorable Earl. And that poor exile himself — him also 
 fearlessly presented Mr Hylton to the Earl, as an image of 
 resignation and Christian forgiveness : but all in vain — the 
 Earl recoiled from the approach, with mingled disgust and 
 horror. And Mr Hylton's last weapon, which with daunt- 
 less aim he drove home — What if all this time he he innocent 
 as your Lordship'' s self I — even that, too, failed of its pur- 
 pose. His steadfast perseverance, year after year, did not, 
 however, exasperate the Earl, who loved and reverenced 
 one whom he might well style — incomparable. The finest 
 living in his gift (and he had several) he earnestly and 
 affectionately pressed upon Mr Hylton — but in vain. 
 
 '^ No, my dear Lord," said he, '-'• give it to a younger, a 
 stronger, a better man. Here pitched I my tent long ago ; 
 and here will I remain and take my rest, with those whom 
 I love, whom one by one I have followed lovingly to the 
 dust — my people ! — my flock ! — my children ! Here are 
 they all ! Here sweetly sleep they ; and by-and-by, in 
 God's good time, I hope to slumber beside them, till we all 
 rise together again from the dust ! " 
 
 When the Earl got the letter which contained these 
 moving expressions, he took it out with him, and read it 
 often, as he walked in solitude for many hours. " This man's 
 foot," said he, "I could see placed upon my paltry coronet 
 
NOW AND THEN. 40o 
 
 of dust ; for on His brow wears he one that gleams with 
 heavenly brightness ! " 
 
 Hopeless indeed appeared Mr Hylton's efforts : but the 
 stake which he played for was one of tremendous magnitude; 
 and he dared not cease his exertions, he dared not despair. 
 IfVas a contest that was sublime ; one upon which angels 
 looked down, ay, into which they entered unseen ; one in 
 which victory would be celebrated in eternity. 
 
 Many brilliant suitors sought the hand of Lady Alkmond, 
 but in vain : her heart could feel no second love, but was 
 either buried in the untimely grave of her husband, or 
 absorbed in the treasure which survived him. She was still 
 lovely — pensive in her loveliness — and meet companion to 
 the sorrow-stricken father of him whose loss she mourned ; 
 and she was in time his only companion : for Lady Emily, 
 peerless in beauty, ay, and in purity and goodness, on com- 
 ing forth from her stately privacy into the world, found 
 herself surrounded by those who paid an eager and enthusi- 
 astic homage to her charms ; and it was not long before the 
 contest ended ; the fortress surrendered at discretion ; and 
 fair Lady Emily became the Duchess of Waverdale — her 
 lord, her slave : she, his vowed servant, his sweet and absolute 
 mistress ! — and the link which bomid them together passed 
 through the hallowing hands of Mr Hylton. 
 
 Little difficulty felt the beautiful Duchess in obtaining the 
 Duke's sanction to her secret arrangement with Mr Hylton, 
 for the support of young Southern, both at school and at 
 college ; but the alarmed perplexity into which both her Grace 
 and Mr Hylton fell, on hearing of the destination of the 
 
404 NOW AND THEN. 
 
 yoiing Lord Alkmond to Cambridge, instead of Oxford, 
 where the Earl of Milverstoke had been educated, may be 
 easily imagined. Mr Hylton, good soul, took the earliest 
 opportunity which he could find, of soundmg to the Earl the 
 praises of Oxford; which he did with such remarkable 
 energy and pertinacity, as not a Uttle surprised his Lordship ; 
 and once or twice even drew from him what was rarely seen 
 on his features, a smile, as he good-naturedly reproached 
 Mr Hylton with ingratitude and undutifulness towards his 
 Alma Mater. 
 
 The Earl heartily, and very justly, loved Oxford, where 
 he himself had contended successfully for honours ; but the 
 last and greatest resident tutor of Lord Alkmond happened 
 to be a Cambridge man ; and had made such stimulating 
 representations concerning his Lordship's mathematical tal- 
 ents and acquirements, and the probability which there was 
 of their conducting him to the highest point of academical 
 distinction, that the Earl resolved on having his grandson 
 entered at Cambridge. And to Cambridge, therefore, he 
 went ; little di^eaming, the while, of the tremulous anxiety 
 which his going thither occasioned. 
 
 Mr Hylton and the Duchess had some anxious correspon- 
 dence on the question of intrusting at once, in confidence 
 to Lord Alkmond, the secret by which they were themselves 
 so disquieted. They finally determined, however, not to do 
 so ; and perhaps wisely. And on another cognate matter 
 were they also agreed — to keep Mr Southern in the dark as 
 to the position which he occupied with reference to the 
 young Lord Alkmond ; with whom, indeed, a nobleman, 
 
NOW AND THEN. 405 
 
 and member of the leading college in the University, pos- 
 sibly he, an obscure sizar of an obscure college, might 
 never happen to come into personal contact. 
 
 Sixteen years after the cruel death of Lord Alkmond, the 
 persevering efforts of Mr Hylton to overcome the unrelent- 
 ing and bitterly unchristian feelings of the Earl of Milver- 
 stoke towards the supposed murderer of his son, were at 
 length crowned with success, to Mr Hylton's unspeakable 
 joy and satisfaction. But it was only because his pious 
 efforts had been aided by the afflicting hand which it had 
 pleased God to lay upon the Earl, who was brought very 
 nearly to the door of death, and then saw around him the 
 uncompromising minister of religion, his own daughter, and 
 his widowed daughter-in-law — all of whom, with gentle, 
 and at length irresistible persuasion and prayer, urged him 
 to utter (which uttering, they knew he would feel) the word 
 which would open to him that door of mercy, which other- 
 wise must remain for ever — yes, FOR ever closed. 
 
 " Come forth from that wretched hard-heartedness of 
 thine," said Mr Hylton, with solemn energy, " and thank- 
 fully and reverently echo the awful language of the Saviour 
 of mankind, in his agony on the cross, ' Father, forgive 
 THEM ! ' Oh, how art thou hereafter to stand before Him, 
 asking for mercy, whose example thou didst on earth disre- 
 gard, and disregarding, despise ? Awake ! awake from thy 
 horrible and deadly trance ! Awake^ thou that sleepest^ and 
 arise from the dead^ and Christ shall give thee light f"^ 
 
 '•'- Oh, my brother! my teacher!" said the Earl, devoutly, 
 and with a holy transport, " the scales are falling from mine 
 
406 NOW AND THEN. 
 
 eyes ! Pray for me ! — pray for me ! I abhor myself, and 
 repent in dust and ashes ! " 
 
 And they did pray for him, and ^Yith him, and the 
 offended majesty of God was appeased, through an ever- 
 living Intercessor ! From liis foot there fell the last of the 
 fetters which had bound him in the dungeon of the Prince 
 of Darkness. 
 
 "I humbly and feaifally FORGIVE !" he said— and the 
 light of Heaven fell that moment upon his benighted soul, 
 scaring away for ever the fiends of darkness ! A sudden 
 peace pervaded his long-troubled breast. 
 
 " O ever-merciful God ! it is sufficient ! Keep Thou thy 
 servant in this spirit, and in this faith ! " solemnly faltered 
 Mr Hylton, kneeling at his bedside, where also knelt the 
 weepmg figures of the Duchess and Lady Alkmond. 
 
 Yes, the grace had been given, — the long, fervent, 
 effectual prayer of a nghteous man had availed much : — 
 and oh, stupendous, inconceivable change! due only to 
 heavenly potency ! a whole natm-e had been transfonned — 
 a great spirit, long downward sinking, sprung like lightning 
 out of the awful abyss of condemnation and despair — and 
 stood, trembling, but firm, upon the Eock of Ages, with 
 humble uplifted eye, on which streamed light and glory 
 from the Sun of Eighteousness. 
 
 " Oh, why," thought afterwards the Earl, " hath this been 
 
 so long delayed ? AAHiy have I passed thus far through 
 
 this earth, a blasted wilderness, which might have bloomed 
 
 and blossomed as the rose, — a very paradise around me ! " 
 
 That sickness was not unto death, but had been otherwise 
 
NOW AND THEN. 40? 
 
 ordered by the supreme disposer of events ; and not long 
 after this blessed change had come over the Earl of Milver- 
 stoke, whose very countenance betokened it, there happened 
 an event so utterly unlooked for and signal, as to demand a 
 faithful record of it. 
 
 For the benefit of the sea air, Lord Milverstoke, after 
 seventeen years' absence from the scene, to his Lordship 
 dismal enough, of those events which have formed the sub- 
 ject of this history, returned to Milverstoke Castle — oh, 
 what an altered man ! It might almost be said to have 
 been in a stern spirit of martyrdom that he came back to a 
 spot so surrounded Avith associations of grief and horror. 
 But he resolved to dare all, to bear all, and in a spirit of 
 voluntary self-denying humiliation. And, indeed, his soul 
 shuddered within him as he passed through the village and 
 drove along the road lying in that horriUe icood — to his 
 long-deserted Castle, soon standing before him with an 
 aspect of gloomy, nay, terrible magnificence. 
 
 ''Courage!" said Mr Hylton, who, at his request, was 
 waiting to receive him as he alighted— the Earl grasping 
 his proffered hand with an almost convulsive energy, and 
 involuntarily closing his eyes. ''You are entering this 
 great and ancient house," whispered his venerable chaplain, 
 " possibly more blessed by Heaven than ever entered any 
 of your ancestors ! " 
 
 " Oh, Mr Hylton !" faltered the Earl, "it may be, it may 
 be!" — and he took ofi" his hat with an air of profound 
 reverence, and for a moment stood still in the hall through 
 which he was passing. 
 
408 NOW AND THEN. 
 
 His hair had become white as snow ; his noble features 
 wore an expression of sorrowful dignity ; but their once 
 haughty frownmg sternness was gone for ever, having 
 vanished with the temper and feelings in which it had origi- 
 nated. His tall commanding figure, once erect as an arrow, 
 now was bent beneath the burden of age and grief, and his 
 gait and step were feeble. But what gentleness in his eyes, 
 what gentleness in the tones of his voice, appeared to those 
 now around him, who remembered the proud Earl of Mil- 
 verstoke of a fonner day ! And there was his daughter, 
 still blooming with beauty, and the Duke, her husband, and 
 her children — all there to welcome him ! — and his daughter- 
 in-law and his grandson — all of whom he embraced, but 
 especially the last, with a tenderness which could find no 
 utterance. 
 
 That evening, before the assembled family and house- 
 hold, Mr Hylton resumed his functions as the Earl's chaplain, 
 in the presence of a grave auditory, collected in that 
 chamber, the library, which had foiTuerly witnessed scenes 
 so stoiTuy and so different. ]\Ir Hylton read the ninetieth 
 Psalm, and the prayers, with soul-subduing solemnity ; for 
 his spirit was indeed moved within him, by the mighty 
 contrast which he beheld between now, and then ; by the 
 humble but hvely hope which he felt, that old things had 
 passed away, and all things had become new ! 
 
NOW AND THEN. 409 
 
 CHAPTEK XVIII. 
 
 "Why, what can this be, Mary ? " said Mr Hylton, as 
 Mrs Hylton placed in his hands, on his return one day from 
 a walk in the village, after paying a visit to old Ayliffe — 
 who still occupied his own cottage, a grateful pensioner on 
 the bounty, conveyed through Mr Hylton, of the Lady 
 Emily of a former day, the brilliant and celebrated Duchess 
 of the present ; who, with beauty in nowise faded, but only 
 perfectly matured, retained all her characteristic simplicity 
 and loveliness of character. " What can his Majesty have 
 thought it worth his while to send, in his royal pleasure, to 
 the Vicar of Milverstoke ? " He alluded to the words " On 
 His Majesty's service," standing on a packet of much 
 greater than the usual dimensions ; while in the corner was 
 the signature "Mordaunt," — that of the Secretary of State, 
 Lord Mordaunt, the third successor to Lord Farnborough, 
 in whose time he had communicated, in the character of 
 Mr Under Secretary Wylmington, with Mr Hylton. The 
 letter contained a large enclosure, to which a note from the 
 Under Secretary called Mr Hylton's attention ; such en- 
 closure being a copy of a communication which had just 
 been received from the gentleman whose name it bore. 
 
410 now and then. 
 
 " My Lord, 
 
 " I lose no time in informing your Lordship of a some- 
 what remarkable fact which has just been communicated to 
 me, officially, by the chaplain of the prison here. This 
 morning, a person named Isaac Hart, otherwise Jonas 
 Hundle, was executed, pursuant to the statute 18 Geo. IL, 
 c. 27, for stealing a piece of cotton goods, value ten shilhngs, 
 from a bleaching-field in this county. There was every 
 reason to believe that this was a second offence. Yester- 
 day evening the prisoner, being much troubled in his mind, 
 desired to see the chaplain, to whom, I rejoice to say, he 
 heartily acknowledged the justice of the sentence under 
 which he was going to suffer. And he then went on to 
 speak to the following effect, (the words I copy from those 
 which the reverend chaplain took down from the prisoner's 
 lips, and which afterwards he signed himself, by affixing 
 thereto his mark, in the presence of the chaplain aforesaid, 
 and the Governor of the gaol,) that is to say, — 
 
 " ' I, who am to die in the morning, most justly for my 
 many sins, am not Isaac Hart, but Jonas Hundle, formerly 
 living far away from this. And it was 1 that did kill and 
 murder my Lord Milverstoke's son, for which one Ayliffe 
 was taken, and condemned to die, but is now transported, 
 and possibly dead. I did it with Giles Armstrong, my 
 brother-in-law, never thinkmg to kill the Lord's son, whom 
 we knew not, nor knowing, would have harmed, having no 
 cause, that I knew of, for so doing ; nor knowing to this 
 day how he came ever into the wood that night, so as to be 
 killed. I and Armstrong (who hath died five years ago) 
 
NOW AND THEN. 411 
 
 did determine to kill Master Godbolt, the head-keeper, for 
 divers ills that he had done us, having shot Giles's brother, 
 and transported another; wherefore we purposed to kill 
 him, and I did with mine own hand strike him, as I thought, 
 having heard that he was to be that night in the wood alone. 
 I and Armstrong were together, but the young Lord cam6 
 up to me before him, and I, thinking him, in the dark, to 
 be Godbolt, and he walking quick, did strike him (for which 
 God forgive me) with the coulter of a plough which Giles 
 did take that evening from Farmer Hopkins's plough ; and 
 I did, for fear's sake, when I had struck Godbolt, (as I 
 thought it was,) and lest I should be found out, thrust the 
 coulter into a hole in a hollow tree hard by, where now, 
 please God, it may be found, if yon tree do yet stand in 
 that wood. And we both did get off as best we might, 
 hearing steps, and Giles did drop over the cliff where loAvest, 
 but I ran round, and we two did go along by the sea till 
 we got to Gaffer Strong's house, and so home by the road, 
 no one seeing us that we knew of. And this is the very 
 truth thereof, and I did hear Adam Ayliffe hereof tried, 
 being present in Court during that time, but fearing to speak 
 lest I should have to die ; but I heard him not sentenced, 
 for my heart did fail me ; and hoping he may be now aKve, 
 may God have mercy on my sinful soul, which is justly 
 to leave this Avorld to-morrow morning, having done 
 many other wicked things, but none so great as this that I 
 now tell, and that for which I am to die to-morrow, which 
 did to me seem hard, till I bethought me of the great 
 wickedness of robbing people that were forced to have their 
 
412 NOW AND THEN. 
 
 goods put out in open air for to bleach, and this murder 
 which I did on the young Lord, that another was to suffer 
 for, but mercifully did not ; all which is true, as I die to- 
 morrow, and hope to be saved hereafter, knowing nothing 
 can save me here from the consequence of my evil and most 
 horrid life. God bless all Christian people, and forgive me, 
 dying penitent. Amen. 
 
 " 'Jonas [x] Bundle, his mark, 
 " * Witnesses. Gregory Durden, Chaplain, 
 Abraham Higson, Governor.' 
 
 ^' Just before the prisoner had his ii'ous struck off, he was 
 asked by the aforesaid Governor and Chaplain, whether all 
 that he had over-night said was true, having first had read 
 over to him the above, word for word ; when he said it was 
 true as the gospel : and again Mr Durden did ask him just 
 before he suffered, and he did most solemnly declare to the 
 truth thereof; and so he died. And, respectfully begging 
 forgiveness for thus troubling your Lordship, yet knowing 
 your Lordship's desire to help the cause of justice, I have 
 thought fit, on great consideration, to send off" this forthwith 
 to your Lordship, being, my Lord, 
 
 "Your Lordship's most obedient, humble servant, 
 "Humphrey Harris, Glerh of the i^eace.'' 
 
 "My Lord Mordaunt," said Mr Hylton's correspondent, 
 "was sure that :Mr Hylton would give his best attention to 
 the enclosed document ; not merely as a magistrate for the 
 county, and a gentleman anxious for the due administration 
 
NOW AND THEN. 413 
 
 of justice, but also as one who formerly had taken great 
 personal interest in the case of Adam AylifFe above men- 
 tioned, as Lord Mordaunt well remembered ; who rehed on 
 Mr Hylton's taking steps, without delay, to confirm or con- 
 tradict, as far as might be practicable, the extraordinary 
 statements of the deceased convict Hart alias Hundle, in 
 in order that, if Adam AylifFe were yet living, justice should 
 without delay be done in the matter, as far as yet might 
 be." 
 
 ^'Oh, Mary, Mary !" said Mr Hylton, after he had some- 
 what recovered from the astonishment into which this letter 
 had thrown him, "that hath now happened which I ever 
 felt and knew within myself would happen, before I died !" 
 
 " Yes, my dear, 'tis indeed strange and most wonderful, 
 if it be true ; but stir not herein before you have found the 
 coulter in the tree spoken of; and also, as Hopkins is alive, 
 learnt from that good soul whether he did lose any coulter 
 at that time, that he now can remember." 
 
 "That is all reasonable enough, and true ; but the matter 
 is already absolutely determined. I have that within me, 
 Mary, which tells me that so it is, as I have ever felt that 
 so it would prove to be ; but what you say shall be done. " 
 
 Good Mr Hylton could no longer mount his horse, and 
 ride about, as twenty years before he used to do, but w^as 
 somewhat feeble, and had gotten a gig to carry him easily 
 and quietly about, as he might require. And in this gig he 
 had soon placed himself, with his old gardener ; and drove 
 off to his nearest brother magistrate, and then to the clerk 
 to the justices, a most shrewd and practised attorney. To 
 
414 NOW AND THEN. 
 
 all of them he read the marvellous letter which had brought 
 him to them ; and then they agreed to accompany him, at 
 a given hour tliat afternoon, to Milverstoke wood, and 
 search for the instrument of murder alleged to be there 
 lying hid. But Mr Hylton also determined, for the sake 
 of more absolute security of evidence, to have with them still 
 other witnesses of what might be discovered. Wherefore 
 it happened, that about three o'clock that afternoon a party 
 of at least eight people met together in Milverstoke wood, 
 several of whom were well acquainted with the old hollow 
 tree spoken of in the confession of Hart alias Hundle ; and 
 to be sure, when they had come up to the tree, there was a 
 hole in the trunk some four feet above the ground, and 
 quite capable of receiving what was alleged to have been 
 thrust into it. The head-bailiff, one of the party, put his 
 hand into the hole amidst excited silence, but felt nothing. 
 "The hole," said he, ''seems deep — the tree cannot stand 
 many more high winds, so hollow as it is ; but I will soon mend 
 this matter of the depth. " With this he sent off his man, 
 who was present, to the woodman's house, not far off; and 
 before long the two returned, with an axe, which they plied 
 heartily, and soon slit down nearly three feet of the half- 
 rotten trunk, when out sprung a large snake (which had 
 doubtless crept in through a hole at the foot of the trunk,) 
 startling every body away, and getting out of sight before it 
 could be killed. Before those who had been thus stirred 
 had quite recovered themselves, Mr Hylton, too much 
 absorbed with the object of his errand to take much notice 
 of what had just happened, put his own hand into the hole, 
 
NOW AND THEN. 415 
 
 (careless at the moment of the possibility that other snakes 
 were there,) and, sure enough ! amidst expressions of 
 wonder, and even awe, from all present, drew forth the 
 coulter of a plough ! Mr Hylton, holding in his hands the 
 dismal memorial of the black transaction which has been 
 commemorated in this history, stood greatly moved before his 
 companions. At length, " My friends, " said he, solemnly, 
 "this seems to be the doing of Almighty God ; let us ac- 
 knowledge it with awe and thankfulness ! " As he said this, 
 he uncovered his venerable head, his example being followed 
 by all present : and for some moments a dead silence pre- 
 vailed, during which thoughts passed through the mind of 
 each, not to be forgotten, nor easily to be expressed. They 
 then closely examined the rusty iron, but could discover no- 
 thing upon it that would warrant the belief, after so great a 
 lapse of time, that the instrument bore any marks of the 
 bloody use to which it had been apphed. Mr Hylton him- 
 self took possession of it, covering it up in a cloth, which he 
 had provided against the occasion; and his next object was 
 to see old Hopkins, whose farm, now managed by his son- 
 in-law, was not far off, and lay in Mr Hylton's way home. 
 He and his brother magistrate went into the farm-house, 
 where sat the old man smoking in the chimney corner, 
 cheerful and intelligent, and able to hear every thing that 
 was said to him. Mr Hylton, having quietly led the con- 
 versation to the time of the great murder, which, with all 
 its incidents, seemed quite fresh in the old man's mind, asked 
 him whether he had ever, about that time, chanced to miss 
 a coulter from a plough of his. 
 
416 NOW AND THEN. 
 
 " Ay, ay," said he, rubbing his forehead for a few mo- 
 ments, " I do bethink me I did, and somewhere, too, about 
 that time ; nay, now I do remember that I did truly lose 
 one, and thought that one of those Armstrongs must have 
 taken it : a sad family they were, but I never did see or 
 hear more of the matter." 
 
 " Should you know that coulter, were you to see it now, 
 as matter of curiosity?" said Mr Hylton. 
 
 " What ! now ? That coulter ?— No, no ; not after all 
 these years, hardly," replied the old man, smiling. " I got 
 another coulter when t'other was wantmg, and thought no 
 more on't ; but I've often thought that Giles did me that 
 trick ; he were a bad one, I always did believe ! " 
 
 '' Did you ever know one Hundle ?" 
 
 " What — Jonas Hundle ? the lad that choused poor Adam 
 AylifFe about the hare ? Ay ! — A sorry knave was he, I 
 ever did think — he and Giles were always, as I may say, 
 together, and never doing good. Glad was I to get rid of 
 'em — and T don't know what came of 'em, nor ever cared, 
 not I!" 
 
 " Well, I can tell thee ; Jonas was hanged, some two 
 hundred miles off, last week." 
 
 "Hanged! And only last week? He hath had a long 
 hide-and-seek with Satan (saving your reverence) — but 
 what might he go for, at the last ?" 
 
 " He robbed a bleachmg-ground." 
 
 "Why, what's that?" said the farmer, scratching his 
 head. " We've no such things in these parts, I'm think- 
 ing." 
 
NOW AND THEN. 417 
 
 " And what would you say, my friend, if I told you that, 
 just before he died, he confessed to a great murder?" 
 
 Hopkins suddenly took his pipe out of his mouth, and 
 stared silently at Mr Hylton, who proceeded— 
 
 " Ay, and that he did it with that same coulter of yours 
 that I have just spoken of." 
 
 ^' Lord have mercy upon us ! " exclaimed Hopkins faintly, 
 dropping his pipe on the hearth — '^ why — it — was not — the 
 young Lord! the Lord Alkmond ? surely! surely!" 
 
 " Ay, but Jonas, dying, did declare it was, and that he 
 did it with his own hand, and with that same coulter which 
 is here !" 
 
 Hopkins got up from his seat, heaved a long-drawn sigh, 
 and walked, feebly and slowly, a step or two about the 
 room, with an amazed air. 
 
 " This is it," said Mr Hylton, beginnmg to uncover it. 
 
 " Phew !" cried Hopkins earnestly—" I wish it were not 
 in my house, here : it takes my breath off— it does, gentle- 
 men ! But— if it be my coulter, look ye, gentlemen, at 
 one end— for, now that I do bethmk me of it, I do well 
 remember it was broken, and so would not hold on, and 
 was to have been taken to the smith's. Is it so ?" 
 
 It was, verily ! And Hopkins saw, and most positively 
 identified it— but would not touch the horrid instrument of 
 murder, which Mr Hylton himself, with shuddering reluc- 
 tance, took home with him. Further minute inquiry afforded 
 complete corroboration to every part of the wretch Hundle's 
 confession. 
 
 Godbolt, the head-keeper, was dead : but he was, beyond 
 
 2 E 
 
418 NOW AND THEN. 
 
 all doubt, as indeed had been proved at the trial of Ayllffe, 
 in the wood, on the night of the murder, going his rounds ; 
 and he it was who had stumbled over the body of Lord 
 Alkmond ; who, it now appeared, had been mistaken for 
 him, owing to the obscurity of the night, and the san- 
 guinary impetuosity of the assassins. And though true it 
 was that Hundle had remained in the neighbourhood till 
 some time subsequently to the trial, apparently occupied 
 only as an occasional farming-servant, yet a few months 
 afterwards he left, and was never seen or heard of any 
 more in that quarter of the country. It appeared, also, 
 that Giles Armstrong, his brother-in-law, ceased, about the 
 same time, to be known in those parts ; and there was every 
 reason to believe that he was, as stated by Hundle, dead. 
 
 So then, poor Adam Ayliffe was innocent ! innocent as 
 the unborn child ! The discovery, together with the reflec- 
 tions which it occasioned, was to Mr Hylton perfectly 
 overwhelming. It was, indeed, an awful mystery; an 
 inscrutable dispensation of Providence— one which baffled 
 the impious daring of human conjecture ; but was assuredly 
 reconcilable, though our limited and disturbed faculties 
 should be unable to perceive how^ with the ineffable wisdom 
 and justice of the Almighty ]\Iaker and Governor of the 
 world. When, on the ensuing morning, Mr Hylton went 
 to old Ayliffe, to communicate to him this extraordinary 
 and most affecting intelligence, he greatly feared the effect 
 which it might produce upon the venerable sufferer of 
 nearly a twenty years' martyrdom. 
 
 He found the old man alone in his cottage, intently read- 
 
NOW AND THEN. 419 
 
 ing that Book which had been long the only solace of his 
 life ; one which either gave him a clue to the course of 
 God's providence in human affairs, or conferred upon him 
 the blessing of a composed resignation, an implicit faith 
 and confidence that one day would make it known that He 
 had done all things loell. Deep in that old man's heart 
 were engraved the solemnising and consolatory words of 
 the Apostle, — For now, ii^e see through a glass ^ darkly ; 
 hut THEN, /ace to face : NOW, I know in fart ; hut THEN, 
 shall I know^ even as also I am knoimi, God and His 
 doings, are at present surrounded with darkness, often 
 impenetrable : but otherwise shall it be hereafter, when 
 He shall be seen to have here been, where He was not 
 known, or thought, to be ! Therefore the old man received 
 this amazing intelligence, the first shock over, with calmness 
 and dignity. '' God is good," said he, "who hath given me 
 to see this day — to hear these tidings, as a ray of sunshine 
 on the short path which leads me to my home yonder," — 
 and he pointed, through his little window, to the churchyard. 
 " It will not shorten, nor could the want of it have length- 
 ened, my sleep in the dust ! This old body of mine hath 
 increasing attraction to the dust ; I feel the hour coming 
 when it must drop, when the earthly house of this tabernacle 
 shall he dissolved : and I leave it cheerfully here, to enter a 
 huilding of God^ an house not made loith hands^ eternal in 
 the heavens. For in this tdbernaclei^^ continued he solemnly, 
 '-'• I do groan.^ heing hurthened: not for that I icould he un- 
 clothed^ hut clothed upo7i^ that mortality may he sioallowed 
 up in life ! Links have I which yet bind me to this earth, 
 
420 NOW AND THEN. 
 
 but they will presently melt and dissolve away, and I 
 escape. My son, mine only son, whom I loved, hath been 
 offered up, this twenty years, upon my heart, an offering 
 unto God : when He unlooseth him, I will receive him back 
 thankfully, be it but for a moment. Ay, let me see my 
 son, my son Adam, and I depart in peace, knowing that 
 God hath heard my prayer ! His mother hath long been 
 dust ; so mil be soon his father : so ere long will he be! " 
 
 Here he paused long, and seemed to have fallen into a 
 reverie, which Mr Hylton's feelings permitted him not to 
 disturb. " I reckon his hair will be long gone gray — turn- 
 ing white — and his face sad and worn ; and so will it be 
 with — Sarah : but — I shall know them ! " said the old man, 
 his sad low voice such as would have softened a heart of 
 stone. "Doth my Lord know of this?" he presently in- 
 quired, gazing with momentary stateliness at ^Ir Hylton, 
 who answered in the negative. " I felt, then, Satan for a 
 moment ; but he is gone, God be thanked !" said the old 
 man, with his former solemn and affecting tranquillity of 
 tone and manner. 
 
 That day Mr Hylton wrote a letter to the Secretary of 
 State, explaining the complete verification which he had 
 obtained, of the confession that had been made by the 
 deceased miscreant, Hundle. 
 
 From Ayliffe Mr Hylton went direct to the Earl of 
 Milverstoke ; deeming it of great importance to obtain, 
 before answering the Secretary of State's letter, the hearty 
 and decisive acquiescence of the Earl in the truth of the 
 disclosure, which had thus signally vindicated the innocence 
 
NOW AND THEN. 421 
 
 of one whom he was going down to the grave believing to 
 be the murderer of his son. The Earl's coach was standing 
 at the Castle door when Mr Hylton arrived, his Lordship 
 being about to take his usual mid-day drive. The former 
 was, however, shown immediately into the library, where 
 the feeble Earl's valet, and another, were assisting in draw- 
 ing on his Lordship's gloves, and preparing him to en- 
 counter the out-door air, which was keen and biting. Mr 
 Hylton's countenance showed that he came the bearer of 
 some kind of serious intelligence : and on the Earl's inquir- 
 ing, somewhat apprehensively, whether such were the case, 
 and being answered in the affirmative, he ordered his 
 attendants instantly to withdraw — and then he and Mr 
 Hylton were alone. 
 
 "My grandson— is Alkmond well? Speak! "said the 
 Earl, who had gone suddenly pale— "if any thing has 
 happened, let me, in pity, know at once." 
 
 "No, no, my Lord; nought that I know of, nor have 
 reason to fear. When last I heard, he was well — quite 
 well — and going on to great distinction." 
 
 "Then what hath happened? Speak, whatever it be. 
 I am old and feeble now, and suspense doth make me shake 
 inwardly, as though my soul were palsied. Speak, good 
 Mr Hylton," continued the Earl earnestly, drawing near 
 to Mr Hylton, who, while the Earl was addressing him, 
 had been hastily considering which was the best mode of 
 breaking the matter, to one whose nerves were, indeed, as 
 he had said, shattered. 
 
 "My dear Lord Milverstoke," said he with a frank air. 
 
422 NOW AND THEN. 
 
 " we are both now very far on in years, and have seen no 
 little of God's dealing with mankind, to discipline and sub- 
 due our unruly and wicked hearts and wills. For wise and 
 awful purposes of His own. His government of man is one 
 of deep mystery ; His doings are only partially revealed — 
 sometimes never — in this dim scene of our trial. But He 
 doth, now and then, condescend unto our weakness and 
 blindness ; and now shall I show you one marvellous and 
 most signal doing of His. I pray your Lordship to be 
 calm while I speak," he continued, observing the Earl's 
 gathering excitement — '' calm as was that aged samt whom 
 I have just quitted, when I told him of what I shall tell 
 your Lordship noAV. Oh, my dear Lord ! Adam Ayliffe — 
 poor banished Adam Ayliffe." 
 
 " Is he dead, then ? " asked the Earl gravely, appealing 
 suddenly calm, as if relieved from apprehension — "And if 
 he be — how was his end ? What said he before quitting to 
 give his great account?" 
 
 "How feels your Lordship towards him?" said Mr Hyl- 
 ton, glancing searchingly at the Earl, and removing from 
 his pocket-book, and opening the Secretary of State's letter. 
 
 "I have, God be my witness, no ill-will towards him, my 
 wretched brother sinner. Malice hath long since died with- 
 in me, as you do know, dear friend Mr Hylton ; and I feel, 
 alas ! — who am I that should bear malice to another !" said 
 Lord Milverstoke with a perceptible shudder. 
 
 " Ah, my good Lord, I must now, then, tell you all ! Adam 
 Ayliffe is innocent — innocent as I am — of poor Lord Alk- 
 inond's murder." The Earl's face went suddenly of a ghastly 
 
NOW AND THEN. 423 
 
 whiteness, and in his eye, fixed intently on Mr Hylton, 
 apprehension was evidently mingled with some of the stern- 
 ness, and even fierceness, of a former day. But he seemed 
 resolved, as Mr Hylton judged from his rigid and compressed 
 lips, to listen in silence ; so Mr Hylton proceeded, firmly and 
 with his peculiar and impressive emphasis : " The providence 
 of God, my dear Lord, hath at length cleared up this dread- 
 ful mystery, and all is revealed." The Earl sunk back in 
 his seat, faintly asking for water, which Mr Hylton caused 
 to be immediately procured. When his Lordship had drunk 
 a little, which Mr Hylton gave him, he desired those to be 
 ordered out again who had come in to answer his summons. 
 Within a few moments they were again alone. 
 
 '' That— letter : is it from abroad ? "—gasped Lord Milver- 
 stoke with tremulous eagerness. 
 
 " No, my Lord — no : you have no need to fear any thing 
 from the quarter you think of, where your munificence hath 
 long, long ago extinguished all claim on your Lordship. 
 But this letter is from the Secretary of State, and encloseth 
 the confession of a guilty wretch, hanged within these last 
 few days only, and who, to the chaplain attending him, did 
 in his last moments most solemnly and explicitly confess 
 that he had done this foul murder ; and proof that he spake 
 truly the providence of God hath placed within oui' reach, 
 and I have got that proof: with mine own eyes have I seen, 
 with mine own hands have I felt, with mine own ears have 
 I heard it ! Oh, the wonderful" — 
 
 "My friend— my friend— your voice fails; I have not 
 heard much of what you have been saying ! Let me hear 
 
424 NOW AND THEN. 
 
 again, and somewhat louder," said the Earl, leaning forward, 
 and speaking in a very feeble tone, his eyes also gazmg 
 languidly at Mr Hylton ; who had, in truth, been speaking 
 most deliberately, and mth rather more distinctness and 
 loudness than usual. He repeated what he had said — and as 
 he went on the Earl closed his eyes, and shook his head 
 gently and mournfully, his snowy attenuated hands resting 
 on his knees, which were trembling visibly. 
 
 " My Lord — I perceive that you are not able now to hear 
 me — that you are indisposed " — 
 
 " Now ! now ! or it may be — never ! ■' said the Earl, open- 
 ing his eyes, and looking with a steadfastness and energy at 
 Mr Hylton, which he had not seen for years, and betokened 
 the great effort of the Earl's will, which produced it. Mr 
 Hylton then read the letter which he had received from 
 London — Lord Milverstoke's eye being all the while fixed 
 upon him with unwavering intensity ; and also while he 
 explained, as briefly but pointedly as possible, the steps which 
 he had taken to obtain, and by which he had obtained, com- 
 plete corroboration of the matters which had been spoken of 
 by the murderer. When he had concluded, the Earl heaved 
 a succession of deep-drawn sighs; and then tremulously 
 said, " Is all this in judgment, or in mercy ?" 
 
 "Li mercy, my dear Lord! in mercy !" answered Mr 
 Hylton, with a brightening countenance and a cheerful 
 voice, — " in you, spared to advanced age, I see before me a 
 monument only of mercy and goodness ! Had you con- 
 tinued till now deaf to the teaching of His Holy Spirit, dead 
 to His gracious influences — hateful, relentless, and vindictive 
 
NOW AND THEN. 42.5 
 
 — this which has now occurred would, to my poor thinking, 
 have appeared to speak only in judgment, uttering con- 
 demnation in your ears, and sealing your eyes in judicial 
 blindness ! But you have been enabled to hear a still small 
 voice, whose melting accents have pierced through your 
 deaf ear, and broken a heart once obdurate in pride, and 
 hopelessly unforgiving. Plainly I speak, my dear Lord, for 
 my mission I feel to be now no longer one of terror, but of 
 consolation. What hath happened is awful, but awful in 
 mercy only, and condescension ! " 
 
 " All this — all this— to a worm of the earth, guilty — 
 utterly worthless !" faltered the Earl. 
 
 " Nay, call not that worthless which God himself hath 
 deigned to redeem ! which he hath endowed with immorta- 
 lity ! and placed here to become fitted for eternal happiness ! " 
 
 The Earl spoke not for some minutes. 
 
 " Twenty years ! — nearly twenty years ! — twenty years' 
 exile and misery ! — and injustice ! " he presently exclaimed, 
 clasping his hands over his forehead. " Oh, what an eternity 
 of anguish, upon earth ! " 
 
 " Afflict not yourself unnecessarily, my dear Lord, nor in 
 vain. Attribute not to your agency that which has been 
 caused only by the unavoidably unperfect administration of 
 justice — and for which you are not responsible, before either 
 God or man. It was not you who placed this unfortunate 
 man in the circumstances which led him into the mortal 
 peril from which the providence of God only rescued him. 
 It was, as he has all along reverentially owned, his own mis- 
 conduct ! Nor was it you who judged or condemned hlui : 
 
426 NOW AND THEN. 
 
 yet only your own heart can tell you, how you have stood 
 before God towards this your brother, in spirit and in 
 intention ! " 
 
 " Oh, my heart condemns ! hath terribly condemned me ! 
 Oh, fiend that I have been ! And I" — he shuddered — " to 
 be of all men thus exacting and vindictive!" 
 
 " These, my Lord, are painful but wholesome thoughts, 
 and I dare not interrupt them." 
 
 " Alas ! alas ! Mr Hylton, were I to dwell upon them I 
 should despair : my eyes turn ever back upon the past, and 
 they-e still gleams upon me vengeance unappeased ! " He 
 paused. ^'Dare I ask — what says poor old Ayliffe — 
 Adam Ayliffe, the father?" 
 
 " He seems but half with us, my Lord, on earth ! As 
 though he had lingered only to hear these glad tidings, 
 before descending into the dust !" 
 
 " Twenty years ! twenty years hath he, too, spent in 
 misery and wrong ! " 
 
 " Twenty years have they been, my Lord, of resignation, 
 of faith, which have raised and purified his noble soul — for 
 noble, my Lord, even in the language of men, it is — from 
 almost all di'oss of earth ! Never one w^ord has there fallen 
 from him, as I do verily believe, during those long twenty 
 years, which angels might not joyfully carry up to Heaven, 
 as tokens of his fitness to join them ! " 
 
 " Oh, venerable man ! Think you that he w^ould receive 
 one whose head, aged as his own, is bowed with shame, 
 while his is erect in virtue and nobleness?" 
 
 Mr Hylton was moved almost to tears at the spectacle 
 
NOW AND THEN. 427 
 
 which arose before his mind's eye, of these two old men 
 meeting for the first, and it might be for the only time upon 
 earth : and his offer to accompany his Lordship at once to 
 the cottage the Earl eagerly accepted, and they both took 
 their departure. As the carriage approached, the Earl 
 showed no little agitation at the prospect of the coming 
 interview. 
 
 " Yonder," said Mr Hylton exultingly — " yonder is the 
 humble place where dwells still, and for but a little longer, 
 one whom angels there have mmistered to ; with whom God 
 deigneth to have communion ; — and it is a hallowed spot ! " 
 
428 NOW AND THEN. 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 The Earl spoke not ; and in a few minutes' time he was 
 to be seen slowly approaching the cottage door, leaning on 
 the arms of Mr Hylton and a servant — another preceding 
 him to announce his arrival, and standing uncovered outside 
 the door as the Earl entered it : his lordly master himself 
 uncovering, and bowing low as he stepped within, accom- 
 panied by Mr Hylton ; who led him up to old Ayliffe, say- 
 ing, " Adam, here comes one to speak with you, my Lord 
 Milverstoke, who saith that he hath long, in heart, done to 
 you and yours injustice — and hath come hither to tell you 
 so." The Earl trembled on Mr Hylton's arm while he said 
 this, and stood uncovered, gazing with an air of reverence 
 at the old man ; who, when they entered, was sitting near 
 the fire, leaning on his staff beside a table^ on which stood 
 his old Bible, open, with his spectacles lying upon it, as 
 though he had but just laid them there. He rose slowly as 
 Mr Hylton finished speaking. 
 
 " My Lord," said he solemnly, and standing more erectly 
 than he had stood for years, "we be now both very old men, 
 and God hath not spared us thus long for nothing ! " 
 
 " Ay, Adam Aylifi'e, indeed it is so ! Will you forgive 
 
NOW AND THEN. 429 
 
 me, and take my hand?" said the Earl faintly, advancing 
 his right hand. 
 
 ^' Ay, my Lord — ay, in the name of God ! I will, I do ! 
 — feeling, too, that I have had somewhat to forgive ! For a 
 father am I, and a father wast thou, my Lord ! Here, since 
 it hath been asked for, is my hand, that never was withheld 
 from man that kindly asked for it ; and my heart goes out 
 to thee with it ! God bless thee, my Lord, in these thine 
 old and feeble days ! Old and feeble are we both, and the 
 grasshopj)er is a burthen to us P'' 
 
 " Let me sit down, my friend," said the Earl gently, " I 
 am feebler than thou; and be thou seated also!" They 
 both sat down opposite to each other, Mr Hylton looking 
 on in silence. '' God may forgive me, (and may He of his 
 infinite mercy !) — thou, my fellow-creature, mayst forgive 
 me ; but I cannot forgive myself, when I am here looking at 
 thee. Good Adam ! what hast thou not gone through these 
 twenty years !" faltered the Earl. 
 
 " Ay, twenty years it is ! " echoed Ayliffe solemnly, sigh- 
 ing deeply, and looking with sorrowful dignity at the Earl. 
 " Life hath, during those twenty years, been a long journey 
 through a country dark and lonesome ; but yet, here is the 
 lamp that hath shone ever blessedly beside me, or I must 
 have stumbled and missed my way for ever, and perished 
 in the valley of the shadow of death!" As he spoke, 
 his eyes were fixed steadfastly on the Earl, and he 
 placed his hand reverently upon the sacred volume beside 
 him. 
 
 " Adam, God hath greatly humbled me, and mightily 
 
430 NOW AND THEN. 
 
 afflicted me ! " said the Earl in a moving tone ; " I am not 
 what I was ! " 
 
 " The scourge thou doubtless didst need, my Lord, and 
 it hath been heavily laid upon thee ; yet it is in mercy to 
 thee that thou art here, my good Lord !" said AyhfFe, with 
 an eye and in a tone of voice belonging only to one who 
 spoke Avith conscious authority. " It is in mercy, too," he 
 continued, " to me that I am here to receive and listen to 
 thee ! I, too, have been perverse and rebellious, yet have 
 I been spared ! And art thou, then, my Lord, in thy heart 
 satisfied that my poor son hath indeed suffered wrongfully?" 
 
 ^' Good Adam," said the Earl, sorrowfully, and yet with 
 dignity, " I believe 7ioio that thy son is innocent, and ought 
 not to have suffered ; yet God hath chosen that we should 
 not here see all things as He seeth them, Adam. The law, 
 with which I had naught to do, went right as the law of 
 men goeth ; but, alas ! as for me, what a spirit hath been 
 shown by me towards thee and thine ! Forgive me, Adam ! 
 There is one here that knoweth more against me " — the Earl 
 turned towards ^Ir Hylton with a look of gloomy signifi- 
 cance — " than I dare tell thee, of mine own awful guiltiness 
 before God." 
 
 '' He is merciful ! He is merciful ! " said Ayliffe. 
 
 " Wilt thou give me a token of thy forgiveness of a spirit 
 most bitter and inhuman^ such as mine hath been?" said 
 the Earl presently. '^ If thy poor son Adam cometh home 
 while I live, wilt thou speak with him, that he forgive me 
 my cruel heart towards him ? — that he accept amends at my 
 hands?" 
 
NOW AND THEN. 431 
 
 ^' For amends, my Lord," said AylifFe, " doubtless he 
 will have none but those which God may provide for him ; 
 and my son hath no claim upon thee for human amends. 
 His forgiveness I know that thou wilt have for aught in 
 which, my Lord, thou mayst have wronged him by unchari- 
 tableness ; or he is not son of mine, and God hath afflicted 
 him in vain." 
 
 Here Mr Hylton interposed, observing the Earl grow 
 very faint, and rose to assist him to the door. 
 
 " Good day, friend Adam, good day," said Lord Milver- 
 stoke feebly, but cordially grasping the hand which AylifFe 
 tendered to him. " I will come hither again to see thee ; 
 but if I may not, wilt thou come yonder to me ? Say yes, 
 good Adam! for my days are fewer, I feel, than thine !" 
 
 " When thou canst not come to me, my good Lord, 
 I will come to thee!" said Ayliife sadly, following the 
 Earl to the door, and gazing after him till he had driven 
 away. 
 
 That evening Mr Hylton wrote off to the Secretary of 
 State, fully detailing the corroboration which he had ob- 
 tained of every part of Bundle's confession ; and also com- 
 municating the fact of Lord Milverstoke's complete convic- 
 tion of its truth, and expressing his Lordship's extreme 
 anxiety that not an hour should be lost in providing means 
 for Ayliffe's immediate return home; Lord Milverstoke 
 declaring his readiness to equip a vessel at his own expense, 
 to proceed at the earliest moment abroad for that purpose. 
 To this Mr Hylton added the firm conviction which he had 
 from the first entertained of Ayliffe's innocence, and which 
 
432 NOW AND THEN. 
 
 had been strengthened by constant correspondence with him 
 ever since his quitting England. 
 
 Mr Hylton was summoned, by the Earl's desire, that even- 
 ing to the Castle, which he had quitted scarcely two hours 
 before, it being believed that his Lordship was dying ; and 
 Mr Hylton was greatly affected when he saw the Earl, 
 whom he verily believed to be indeed near his end, and who 
 exhibited a solemn tranquillity, and expressed a mournful 
 sympathy on behalf of old Ayliffe and his son, such as no 
 one could have observed or heard without being moved. 
 When Mr Hylton retmiied, leaving the Earl a little revived, 
 it was in company with his Lordship's solicitor, for whom a 
 special messenger had been despatched by his Lordship, 
 immediately on his return to the Castle fromvisitmg Ayliffe's 
 cottage. The solicitor was an affable person, but on matters 
 of business his lips were, so to speak, hermetically sealed. 
 Not a word, therefore, passed between him and Mr Hylton 
 respecting any thing which might have taken place between 
 the former and the Earl that evening. His Lordship, how- 
 ever, afterwards rallied from the prostration which had been 
 occasioned by the agitation of that day ; and on the ensuing 
 Sunday, Mr Hylton had the unspeakable satisfaction of see- 
 ing both the Earl of Milverstoke and old Adam Ayliffe at 
 church, and of administering to them, kneeling side by side, 
 amongst other reverent communicants, the Holy Sacrament. 
 It was a sight that was long afterwards spoken of by those 
 who beheld the two old men taking leave of each other at 
 the church door with solemn courtesy, each, forgetful of 
 mere earthly relations, which between them were so soon 
 
NOW AND THEN. 433 
 
 to cease, uncovering to the other in silence his venerable 
 head, shaking each other by the hand ; and then the one 
 assisted into his stately coach, the other into the small cart, 
 in which a friendly neighbour had conveyed him to the 
 church. Then went they severally home from the house of 
 their common Father — the Father of the spirits of all flesh; 
 who was no respecter of persons! The spectacle of that day 
 produced a deep and lasting impression on the beholders of 
 it, but especially upon those who had lived long enough to 
 remember, or had been told by those who did, what had 
 taken place m Milverstoke some twenty years before. 
 
 Shortly after the happening of the events which have last 
 been mentioned, there came on at Cambridge the exciting 
 struggle for pre-eminence, to which the whole University 
 had for some time been looking forward with an unusual 
 degree of interest and curiosity, concentrated on the two 
 individuals who have been already mentioned — Viscount 
 Alkmond and Mr Southern. Their respective partisans 
 lacked much of the calmness and good-nature of the two 
 principals, who had had just that degree of intercourse with 
 each other, before the hour of contest, which was calculated 
 to excite reciprocal respect and apprehension. Each, it need 
 hardly perhaps be said, continued ignorant of the strange 
 and critical position which he and his family occupied with 
 respect to the other. 
 
 Lord Alkmond was stimulated to his uttermost exertion ; 
 for to him, the future head and representative of a very 
 ancient and noble family, and knowing with what intense 
 
 2 F 
 
434 NOW AND THEN. 
 
 anxiety his noble grandfather awaited the issue — what 
 could be more precious than intellectual distinction — the 
 highest honours of a great University, won in fair fight with 
 an antagonist so formidable, so worthy of being arduously 
 conquered, as Mr Southern ? But if the pressure of such 
 incentives were great upon Lord Alkmond, what would 
 have been the effect of his knowing, besides, who that for- 
 midable competitor really was ? The son, not of his father's 
 murderer, but of the heart-broken man who, having been 
 falsely accused of that murder, had nearly perished for it 
 on the gibbet, and afterwards passed, as the penalty of a 
 crime never committed by him, twenty years of his life in 
 ignominious exile from his country — from his child — from 
 his father ! Would Lord Alkmond have retired from the 
 contest, overpowered by his feelings, under an impulse of 
 chivalrous generosity, leaving his innocent and unfortunate 
 opponent to occupy the splendid post of distinction to which 
 his great and admitted talents and acquirements entitled 
 him ?— Who can tell ? 
 
 But suppose that Mr Southern had discovered who he 
 himself really was, and the position in which he and his 
 family at that moment stood with respect to his distinguished 
 opponent — what would he have done? Or, suppose him 
 aware that amongst those who regarded him as an object of 
 interest — as one of the two observed of all observers, in 
 that great academical struggle — was one who watched him 
 with a straining eye and a wellnigh bursting heart — that 
 very same long-dishonoured exile, that falsely adjudged 
 murderer, Ms father ? Yet so it was ! Him, rebelHous 
 
NOW AND THEN. 435 
 
 Nature nearly overpowered into forgettiilness of the solemnly 
 pledged word of a Christian man, that he would not disclose 
 himself to his son, till that son should have passed through 
 the fiery ordeal into which he had entered, and on the issue 
 of which depended all his earthly prospects. Yes, poor 
 Ayliffe and his wife had indeed returned to their native 
 country — to dreadful, but still dear England ! 
 
 Unable to resist the poor father's importunities, Mr Hyl- 
 ton had accompanied him to Cambridge the day before that 
 on which the contest commenced ; and in going thither had 
 exacted the promise which has been mentioned above. 
 Besides this, Mr Hylton had earnestly impressed upon him 
 lessons of piety and gratitude, towards Him who out of seem- 
 ing evil brought so often good. " Great and terrible are 
 the sufferings both of mind and body which you have under- 
 gone : but they have been inflicted upon you by an All- 
 wise, Just, and Incomprehensible God. — Your duty is 
 humble and joyful submission to all His dispensations : He 
 owes you nothing ; you owe him every thing. As He is 
 your Maker, so is He your Judge ! It is for Him alone to 
 deal with you, both here and hereafter, as seemeth best to 
 His infinite wisdom. Had you perished on the scaftbld : 
 had you died in ignominious exile, after leading a long life 
 of bodily agony — insect of the dust ! what could you have 
 said against it to your Omnipotent Creator ? But in judg- 
 ment He has remembered mercy : He has given you the 
 consolations of rehgion, resignation, peace of mind, even 
 in your very sorrow. Awfully incomprehensible in His 
 nature, He has yet permitted you to see in Him a Father ; 
 
V 
 
 436 NOW AND THEN. 
 
 who chasteneth those whom he loveth, and even vouch- 
 safes to them some few glimpses of his wondrous govern- 
 ment of the world. Long-suffering, He stoops even to 
 reason with his creatures ! And is it no mark of His favour 
 and blessing that you are now here, alive, with your 
 loving wife beside you — and your venerable father alive 
 to welcome you — and your character and innocence vindi- 
 cated before all mankind? Nay, good Adam, look even 
 further ! Here is your son, likely to become the foremost 
 man of Cambridge University, and have all the honom's and 
 advantages attending such high distinction. He is now 
 contending, as an equal, with the future Earl of Milverstoke, 
 whom he may vanquish by the force of his talents and 
 learning. Could this have been, in all human probability, 
 if what has happened to you had not taken place ? And 
 had he been strong and well-formed like you, might he not 
 have gone to the plough — or at all events been never what 
 he now is?" 
 
 Ayliffe, now a gray-headed, care-worn, sad-hearted man, 
 was reverently silent. — Oh, with what feelings did he first, 
 at a distance, catch sight of his son ! That son was in 
 academical costume, walking alone with an air of deep 
 thought for a while, till he was joined by — Lord Alkmond ! 
 Poor Ayliffe, who gazed at his son from the window of an 
 inn, with Mr Hylton beside him, was violently affected on 
 seeing him, and wept like a child. 
 
 "How like his mother!" he exclaimed: and indeed so 
 the poor youth was ! 
 
 "And is not Lord Alkmond like his unhappy father?" 
 inquired Mr Hylton. 
 
NOAV AND THEN. 437 
 
 "He is !" replied Ayliffe, with a cold shudder. ^ 
 
 The contest lay entirely that year, as all had foreseen, 
 between Lord Alkmond and Mr Southern, both of whom 
 far outstripped all other competitors ; and between those 
 two the issue was long doubtful, to all but one or two of 
 the most experienced and able members of the University, 
 who privately expressed a decided opinion as to which of 
 the two would be the senior wrangler. And at length 
 their confident prediction was verified ; for Mr Southern 
 was declared the victor, after a most severe struggle with 
 his noble antagonist, noble in every sense of the word, — 
 noble before, infinitely nobler after, this great contest, in 
 which success had been to his Lordship an object, on many 
 accounts, so dearly prized. From him Mr Southern received 
 the first, heartiest, and sincerest of the congratulations which 
 were soon from all quarters showered upon him. If ever a 
 pure and high spirit were shown by man, it was that which 
 then actuated the young Lord Alkmond ; and his modest, 
 retiring, confused victor profoundly felt the generosity of his 
 defeated but gifted antagonist. 
 
 Great curiosity was excited in the University about their 
 new senior wrangler; and "Who is he? — Where does he 
 come from? — Who knows anything about him?" were 
 questions asked eagerly on every hand. Who, however, 
 could answer them ? Lord Alkmond was repeatedly asked ; 
 but, in spite of his apparent acquaintanceship with his 
 victorious opponent, could give no information about him. 
 Curiosity was raised to a high pitch, on the day after this 
 great contest, when Mr Southern was seen walking along 
 
438 NOW AiND THEN. 
 
 the streets of Cambridge, his face exhibiting traces of strong 
 and recent excitement and agitation, and he arm-in-arm 
 with a tall, elderly, gray-haired man, with a frank but mel- 
 ancholy countenance, calculated to prepossess in his favour 
 every beholder, and a very homely appearance. The latter, 
 also, looked as if he had not yet recovered from agitation : 
 there was in his features a mingled expression of grief and 
 exultation ; and the two were observed frequently to gaze 
 with sudden, strange, and loving earnestness at each other. 
 During the course of that day Lord Alkmond, walking 
 arm-m-arra with Mr Hylton, appeared also somewhat pale, 
 and as if he too had been lately the subject of strong 
 emotion, or had not recovered from the effects of some 
 agitating intelligence. He shook hands with Mr Southern 
 in a marked manner, evidently with cordiality, yet with a 
 certain gravity which he had never before exhibited ; and 
 took off his hat with a courteous air, yet a concerned coun- 
 tenance, to the person with whom Mr Southera was walking. 
 With a sudden impulse, however, his Lordship shook him 
 cordially by the hand, and said, " Sir, allow me most warmly 
 to congratulate you on Mr Southern's — I mean — Mr AylifFe's 
 — I mean, your son's, success — and long may you live to 
 see the fruits of his great distmction ! " The person ad- 
 dressed bowed low, and in his turn looked greatly embar- 
 rassed. Nor was this all the food which events seemed to 
 have provided for the lovers of mystery at the University, 
 or in its neighbourhood. A grand entertainment was given, 
 two days after the contest for the senior wranglership, by 
 the Duke and Duchess of Waverdale, who had come to a 
 
NOW AND THEN. 439 
 
 residence of theirs near the University, chiefly on account 
 of the interest which they took in their relative Lord Alk- 
 mond. Several of the august Heads of Houses were there, 
 and the conversation naturally turned upon the University 
 struggle, which had just closed. 
 
 " Our new senior wrangler is a man that hath dropped 
 down among us from the moon, brimful of mathematics," 
 said the grave and learned Vice-Chancellor. 
 
 " He is a particular friend of mine," replied the brilliant 
 Duchess of Waverdale, with sudden and visible emotion, 
 her eyes filHng with tears — " and he was invited to dinner 
 here to-day, but has an engagement which all who know 
 him must respect him for keeping. Do they not, dear Mr 
 Hylton?" 
 
 " Indeed, my dear Duchess, they do ! " replied Mr Hylton, 
 with correspondent emotion, " I shall never forget yesterday 
 — or rather, the day before ! I am, however, thinking 
 anxiously about — you know whom ! — What will he say of 
 it?" 
 
 " Let us drink health and prosperity to the new senior 
 wrangler," said the Duke, somewhat abruptly, glancing 
 significantly at the Duchess and Mr Hylton ; "for he is an 
 honour to your University, Mr Vice-Chancellor and gentle- 
 men ! Come, my dear Alkmond " — 
 
 "Indeed I will — with my entire heart," he repHed, 
 eagerly; "I shall ever feel an inexpressible interest in Mr — 
 Southern." 
 
 The Heads all looked at one another with a well-bred 
 air of mystery, as though they had hit upon a problem that 
 
440 NOW AND THEN. 
 
 would bear discussing by-and-by ! On the next evening 
 it got noised about, that Lord Alkmond, Mr Southern, and 
 the strange-looking person with whom he walked about so 
 much, had all dined together, that afternoon, at the Inn : 
 and it somehow or other got known, that conversation was 
 particularly restrained and formal, so long as dinner was on 
 the table, but seemed afterwards more earnest. And the 
 next day the whole party quitted Cambridge in a carriage 
 and four ! Such, indeed, was the fact ; and their destina- 
 tion was Milverstoke— whither Lord Alkmond anxiously 
 hastened to give an account of the defeat which he had sus- 
 tained, to his grandfather, and prepare him to hear by whom, 
 in the mysterious and wonderful course of events, that defeat 
 had been occasioned, Mr Hylton promising his assistance in the 
 enterprise : for he knew, better even than the high-minded 
 and frank-hearted young Viscount, the bitter mortification 
 which was in store for the Earl; who appeared long to 
 have set his heart upon his grandson's obtaining the dis- 
 tinction which his tutors had so confidently anticipated for 
 him. The Earl had had, up to that moment, no knowledge 
 whatever of young Ayliffe's being at the UHiversity ; and 
 how this fact, and that of his defeating Lord Alkmond, 
 would be received by the Earl, was a problem which Mr 
 Hylton was about to solve with some trepidation ; and that 
 trepidation he had communicated to Lord Alkmond. ^' But," 
 said his Lordship, "I will answer for my grandfather. 
 When he first hears it all, he may be a little angry about 
 the concealment, but that can be most amiably accounted 
 for : and then, if I know the nature of the blood tliat runs 
 
NOW AND THEN. 441 
 
 in our family, he may be somewhat dissatisfied with me for 
 my faikire, but towards my distinguished opponent will feel 
 as becomes a gentleman." How differently turned out 
 events from those for which these excellent persons were 
 preparing! — The Earl of Milverstoke was dead. 
 
 For some time before Mr Hylton's departure for Cam- 
 bridge, the Earl's health and spirits had been greatly 
 depressed; which Mr Hylton and his Lordship's medical 
 attendant attributed to the excitement and agitation occa- 
 sioned by the Ayliffes' return to Milverstoke, and anxiety 
 about Lord Alkmond's success at the University. As to 
 the former, immediately on the Earl's hearing of their re- 
 turn, he sent a message to Mr Hylton, requesting him to 
 take a chaise and bring with him Ayliffe and his wife to 
 the Castle. This Mr Hylton did ; and the Earl's manner, 
 in receiving and addressing them, was signally characterised 
 by dignity and kindness. 
 
 " Eemember always, Adam," said his Lordship, " it was 
 not I who caused your arrest on the charge upon which 
 you were tried, nor placed you in the situation which led to 
 your being an^ested. You were fairly and openly tried by 
 your equals, as every Englishman must be, who is charged, 
 whether rightly or wrongfully, with an offence. I, who 
 had no part in your trial, verily believed you guilty : I do 
 declare it upon my honour — I do assure you of it solemnly 
 before God : and I continued to beheve it, till the extraor- 
 dinary confession of the crime, by the man whose shameful 
 cruelty first led you heedlessly astray. No man could force 
 my understanding, Adam, to believe that you were innocent, 
 
442 NOW AND THEN. 
 
 when I conscientiously believed that you were guilty, or 
 guilty, if I had really believed that you were innocent ; but 
 I freely own, humbly and penitently, before God, that I 
 have, ever since you were charged with my unhappy son's 
 death, felt, until lately, a most unjustifiable and unchristian 
 animosity and vindictiveness towards both you and your 
 exemplary father. Through the teaching of Mr Hylton, 
 and the blessing of God, I have, I trust, been greatly 
 altered, and regard my past conduct herein with downright 
 shame and grief. But Christ my Saviour hath looked upon 
 me in mercy, and (I trust) softened a heart which was a 
 heart of stone. I hope that the consolations of religion are 
 yours, and that they have been during your banishment ; 
 and now that you are returned, I hope that peace will 
 attend you both, nay, all of you, for the rest of your days. 
 I am myself a great sinner," — here the Earl became greatly 
 affected, turned pale, and paused for a while : then he pro- 
 ceeded in a broken voice — " I am, alas ! a much greater 
 sinner than you think of, or than probably any one knows 
 of, but my kind, pitying friend, Mr Hylton. But I have 
 repented — yes, in dust and ashes ; and may God accept of 
 my repentance ! I am not much longer for this world. 
 Would I had led a better life, and set a better example to 
 those around me. And now, do you, both of you, heartily 
 forgive me, my friends — my long-oppressed, my excellent 
 and greatly pitied friends?" continued the Earl, in a 
 very moving manner. 
 
 Both Ayliffe and his wife, whom the Earl had made to 
 sit down near him when they entered, were in tears all the 
 
NOW AND THEN. 44^ 
 
 while that the Earl was speaking ; for there was something 
 indescribably touching and solemn in the tones of his voice, 
 and the expression of his countenance. They fervently 
 assured his Lordship that all was forgotten in the joy of 
 their returning, and with the bloody stain of guilt for ever 
 blotted out. 
 
 " Then may God Almighty bless you both, my poor per- 
 secuted friends ! bless you here and hereafter, and prepare 
 you for that day which I feel is drawing awfully near to me ! 
 Pray for me while I am with you ; and when I am dead, 
 continue in a kind and forgiving spirit, and be gentle to my 
 memory. He that will succeed me will behave more 
 worthily in his station than I have. I am not deserving of 
 such a grandson ! But I am faint and must bid you fare- 
 well. Give me your hands, my friends ; and when you 
 return home, you will find here a little token a-piece for 
 you, of my good-will, and an earnest only of what I will do 
 for you ! " Then he gave to each a small sealed packet, 
 and they withdrew, leaving him much exhausted. They 
 found in each packet bank-notes to the amount of £500. 
 
 When Mr Hylton had set off for Cambridge with Adam 
 Ayliffe, (whose accompanying him was not known to the 
 Earl,) Lady Alkmond, who was, from the first, acquainted 
 with the secret concerning him who had become unexpec- 
 tedly so formidable a competitor with her son, resolved, 
 being left alone with the Earl, and seeing his subdued and 
 gentle temper, herself to break the whole matter to him ; 
 and this she did so judiciously, and with such winning 
 tenderness, that the Earl expressed only great, very great 
 
444 NOW AND THEN. 
 
 surprise, but no anger whatever. He was, on the contrary, 
 much affected by the silent unostentatious generosity of his 
 daughter, the Duchess of Waverdale. When the news 
 came that Lord Alkmond had been defeated, and by young 
 Ayliffe, Lady Alkmond shed a flood of tears ; and with a 
 mother's fondness lamented the grievous disappointment of 
 their proud and ambitious hopes. When she had sufficiently 
 recovered her self-possession, she went to the Earl, and 
 broke the tidings to him as gently as possible. He was 
 then lying in the bed from which he was destined never to 
 rise, and received the intelligence with perfect calmness, 
 though a faint flush at first overspread his fine yet wasted 
 features. The first words which he uttered, after tenderly 
 foldmg his arms round Lady Alkmond, and kissing her, 
 were these : — " This God hath done, and as a scourge for 
 my pride ! As such I humbly receive it. God bless the 
 youth Aylifl'e ! may God bless them both ! Oh send for my 
 grandson ! my daughter ! my friend Hylton ! " 
 
 The next day the doctor told Lady Alkmond that he 
 had noticed a striking alteration in the Earl's countenance, 
 and advised her to prepare for a great change. Other 
 medical assistance was sent for, and an express despatched 
 for Lord Alkmond, the Duchess of Waverdale, and Mr Hyl- 
 ton. The Earl's solicitor was also summoned, and remained 
 alone for some little time with his Lordship, who caused 
 some additions to be made to his will. Getting rapidly 
 fainter and worse, his Lordship directed his confidential 
 servant to go in the coach to the cottage of old Adam Ay- 
 liff'e, with an entreaty to him to come, in remembrance of 
 
NOW AND THEN. 445 
 
 a promise which he had made to the Earl of Milverstoke 
 some time before. 
 
 On hearing this the old man trembled, and covered his 
 face with his hands for some moments. Then, with a solemn 
 countenance, getting his hat and stick, and putting his 
 Bible under his arm, he said to the servant, ^' Ay, I will go 
 with thee to my Lord !" 
 
 When the Earl saw him, it was about evening, and the 
 sun was setting. Its declining rays shone softly into the 
 magnificent chamber in which lay the dying noble- 
 man. 
 
 " Adam, see — it is going down ! " said Lord Milverstoke 
 in a low tone, looking mournfully at Adam, and pointing to 
 the sadly splendid spectacle of the sinking sun. 
 
 "How is thy soul with God?" said the old man with 
 great solemnity. 
 
 The Earl placed his hands together, and remained silent 
 for some moments. Then he said, " I would it were, good 
 Adam, as I believe thine is ! " 
 
 " Nay, my good Lord, think only of thine own, not mine ; 
 I am sinful, and often of weak faith. But hast thou faith 
 and hope?" 
 
 " I thank God, Adam, that I have some little ! Before I 
 was afflicted I went astray ! But I have sinned deeper 
 than ever thou thinkest, good soul!" 
 
 " But His mercy, to whom thou art going, is deeper than 
 all thy sins!" 
 
 " Oh, Adam ! I have this day often thought, that I could 
 die more peacefully in thy little cottage than in this place! " 
 
446 NOW AND THEN. 
 
 " So thy heart and soul be right, what signifies where 
 thou diest?" 
 
 " Adam," said the Earl gently, " thou speakest somewhat 
 sternly to one with a broken spirit — but God bless thee ! 
 Thy honest voice searcheth me ! Wilt thou make me a 
 promise, Adam?" said the Earl, softly placing his hand 
 upon that of AylifFe. 
 
 '' Ay, my Lord, if I can perform it." 
 
 " Wilt thou follow my unworthy dust to the grave ? I 
 would have followed thee, hadst thou gone first ! " 
 
 " I will !" replied Adam, looking solemnly at the Earl. 
 
 " And now give me thy prayers, dear Adam ! Pray for 
 him that — is to come after me — for I go — and " — He paused 
 long, and his eyes remained closed. After a while, he faintly 
 mm-mured — " peace ! — peace ! " — 
 
 Lady Alkmond, who was at the other side of the bed, 
 observed a great change come suddenly over the Earl's 
 face. While Adam was opening the Bible, and adjusting 
 his glasses to read a Psalm, she hastened round, leaned 
 over the bed, and kissed the Earl's forehead and cheek, 
 grasped his thin fingers, and burst into weeping. But the 
 Earl saw her not, nor heard her : he was no longer among 
 the living. 
 
 The Earl of Milverstoke left to the AyliiFes the mimifi- 
 cent bequest of ten thousand pounds, which he styled in his 
 will /'an humble peace-offering." He also directed, that 
 all the land which had been purchased, on his account. 
 
NOW AND THEN. 447 
 
 from old AyllfFe should be reconveyed to him free of every 
 charge : and bequeathed twenty pounds for a tablet to be 
 erected in the church to the memory of old Adam Ayliffe, 
 the inscription on which was to be written by Mr Hylton. 
 Concerning him, his Lordship said that he left the Rev. 
 Henry Hylton his affectionate and his most unworthy bless- 
 ing ; grieving that he had made the Earl most solemnly 
 promise to leave him no legacy whatever, on hearing from 
 his Lordship that such was his intention. But his Lord- 
 ship left Mary Hylton, the daughter of his dear friend, the 
 Rev. Henry Hylton, five thousand pounds. 
 
 It cost that venerable man a great effort to comply with 
 the wishes of the young Earl of Milverstoke and his sorrow- 
 ful relatives, that he should bury his late friend. But he did; 
 and old Adam Ayliffe went as one of the mourners, and 
 stood, with a majestic countenance, only a few yards from 
 the spot where, within three months' time, he was himself laid 
 that he might take his rest beside her whom he had loved, 
 till both — till all mankind — shall rise at the sound of the 
 trumpet of the Resurrection. He died with noble calmness. 
 His very dead countenance diffused a living peace around 
 the room ; for its expression was that of a heavenly serenity. 
 Him, also, Mr Hylton buried; the Earl of Milverstoke 
 joining with Adam Ayliffe and his son, in following the 
 honoured remains of the old patriarch through a little con- 
 course in the churchyard, who wept silently as they passed. 
 
 All those here mentioned are long since mouldered into 
 dust, their kindred dust. They are dead, but have not 
 perished, being only asleep. Perhaps already, they see no 
 
448 NOW AND THEN. 
 
 longer through a glass, darkly, but face to face : knowmg 
 no longer in part, but even as they are known. We, who 
 have come after them, see also, at present, as they saw, 
 only through a glass, darkly : wherefore we look for full 
 clearness hereafter only ; and till our sleeping time come, 
 walk trembling, but hopefully. 
 
 THE END. 
 
 PRINTED BV- WILLIAM BLACKWOOD AND SONS, EDINBURGH. 
 
UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY 
 BERKELEY 
 
 Return to desk from which borrowed. 
 This book is DUE on the last date stamped below. 
 
 FEB 4 i9/;>^ 
 
 IN STACKS 
 
 OCT 11957 
 REC'D CD 
 
 8 1952.