e-D e^--^.. /• NOW k^J) THEN. THROUGH A CLASS, DARKLY. BY SAMUEL WARREN, F.R.S., AUTHOR OF TE.N THOUSAND A-YEAR, AND THE DIARY Of A LATE PHYSICIAN. WILLIAM BLACKWOOD AND SONS, EDINBURGH AND LONDON. MDCCCXLVIII. LjiiiloM : Printed by William Clowes and Sons, Stamlord Street. ^ f 1). I TO EDWARD WALPOLE WARREN, Cl&ts Moxk is fittScvitjeU, AS A TOKEN OF LOVE, :< HIS FATHER. ;K Lnmlun, \Slli December, 18-17 NOW AND THEN. CHAPTER I. Somewhere about a hundred years ago (but in which of our good kmgs' reigns, or in which of our sea-coast counties, is needless to be known) there stood, quite by itself, in a parish called Milverstoke, a cottage of the better sort, which no one could have seen, some few years before that in which it is presented to our notice, without its suggesting to him that he was look- ing at a cottage quite of the old English kind. It was most snug in winter, and in summer very beau- tiful; glistening, as then it did, in all its fragrant loveliness of jessamine, honeysuckle, and sweet-briar. There, also, stood a l^e-hive, in the centre of the garden, which, stretching down to the road-side, was so filled with flowers, especially roses, that nothing whatever could be seen of the ground in which they grew ; wherefore it might well be that the busy 2 NOW AND THEN. little personages who occupied the tiny mansion so situated, conceived that the lines had fallen to them in very pleasant places indeed. The cottage was built very substantially, though originally some- what rudely, and principally of sea-shore stones. It had a thick thatched roof, and the walls were low. In front there were only two windows, with diamond- shaped panes, one above another, the former much larger than the latter, the one belonging to the room of the building, the other to what might be called the chief bed-room ; for there were three little dor- mitories — two being small, and at the back of the cottage. Close behind, and somewhat to the left, stood an elm-tree, its trunk completely covered with ivy ; and so effectually sheltering the cottage, and otherwise so materially contributing to its snug, pic- turesque 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 little slip of ground, half garden and half orchard. All the foregoing formed the remnant of a little free- hold property, which had belonged to its present owner and to his family before him, for several genera- tions. The initial letter (^) of their name, Ayliffe, was rudely cut in old Englisl;i character in a piece of NOW AND THEN. 6 stone forming a sort of centre facing- over the door- way ; and no one then li\dng there knew when that letter had been cut. The present owner of the cot- tage 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 very finely formed ; and the little hair that he had left was of a silvery colour, verging on white. His countenance and figure were very 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 stedfast in its gaze; and when he spoke, it was with a certain quaintness, which seemed in keeping with his simple and stern character. All who had ever known Ayliffe entertained for him a deep respect. He was of a very independent spirit, somewhat taciturn, and of a re- tiring, 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 Is^ raelite indeed, in whom is no guile. Yet the last few b2 NOW AND THEN. 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; saying, with resignation, "The Lord hath given, and the Lord hath taken away : blessed be the name 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 beggar}^ To enable the son of an old deceased friend to become a collector of public rates in an adjoining connty, Ayliffe had unsuspiciously be- come his surety. The man, however, for whom he had done this service, fell soon afterwards into intem- perate and dissolute habits ; dishonesty, as usual, soon followed; and poor Ayliffe was horrified one evening by being called upon, his principal having absconded, a great defaulter, to contribute to repair the de- ficiency, to the full extent of his bond. At the NOW AND THEN. 5 time of this sad event Ayliife was the freehold owner of some forty or fifty acres of ground adjoining his cottage, besides some sums of money advanced upon mortgage to a neighbour, the interest of which he was setting apart for a purpose which will be pre- sently mentioned. But all was suddenly sacrificed : — not only the small accumulation of interest, but the principal from which it had gro^yn, — and not only that, but more than half of his land had to be sold, to make good the loss for which he had so unhappily become liable. This stroke seemed to prostrate poor Ayliffe, not only on account of his severe pecuniary loss, but his cruelly betrayed confidence. Nor was this all: — his favourite purpose had been suddenly de- feated, that purpose having been, to make a provision for the marriage of his onl}^ child, a son, called after himself, Adam, — being the fifth Adam Ayliffe, father and son, daring as many generations. Ihat grand object was now unattainable ; and father and son shortly afterwards experienced a bitter proof of the too frequent fickleness of earthly friendships. Th^ girl whose hand had been pledged to young Adam, readily brol;e off the match at her parents' desire ; and she being very pretty, and the\'^ so well to do in the world as would have enabled them with ease to set Adam Ayliffe and their daughter comfortably Q NOW AND THEN. going in life, little difficulty was found in obtaining a successor to poor Adam, in a thriving young farmer, whom she had actually jilted in his favour ; for Adam was not only of an old family, and would succeed to no inconsiderable hereditary property, but was at once one of the finest young fellows in the county ; with a handsome countenance, of a most en- gaging frankness, a figure tall and well formed; pos- sessed 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 adjoining counties. Every one liked Adam Ayliffe : he had a laugh and a good word for all whom he met, — would do anything to oblige anybody ; and seemed not to know that there was such a thing in the world to be looked after as — self. It was everywhere said that a handsomer couple than Adam and Phoebe would make, was not to be seen. But, poor soul ! all his prospects were, as has been seen, suddenly blighted ; and Phoebe's heartless desertion hurt him far deeper than he cared for the poverty, with its humiliating incidents, into which he and his father had so unexpectedly been plunged. His buoyancy of spirits had fled for ever; but the manly strength and simplicity of character, which he NOW AND THEN. 7 seemed to have inherited from his father, remained. Much of that father's pious teaching it took to soothe the ruffled spirit of his son. Long was it before any one could exchange a smile with Adam Ayliffe the younger. Alas ! what a contrast used now to be, between father and son going formerly 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-browa hair, nodding to this one, and smiling to the other, and taking off his hat to the elder ones ! As father and son vrould stand suddenly uncovered while the reverend vicar passed or met them, on his way into the church, his heart yearned towards them both : he thoroughly loved and re- spected them, and was in a certain way proud of two such specimens of the English yeoman : and, above all, charmed with the good example Avhich they set to all his other parishioners. Now the vicar had from Adam's boyhood entertained a liking for him, and had personally bestowed no inconsiderable pains upon his education, which, though plain, as suited his posi- tion, was yet sound and substantial. Greatly con- cerned had been the vicar at the disasters befalling the Ayliffes ; nay, he secretly went so far as to make 8 NOW AND THEN. an effort to reclaim the fickle Phoebe — but in vain — it was plainly not to be ; and then the vicar sought to satisfy the disappointed suitor, that he might de- pend upon it all would turn out for the best. TheEev. Henry Hylton, M.A., at the time now spoken of, had been Vicar of Milverstok^ for nearly twenty years. It was a Cambridge, College living, of about 300/. a»year; the first that had fallen to his choice, after he had obtained his fellowship, to which, in consequence of his distinguished degree, he had been elected almost unanimously. He was a man of good family ; powerful intellect ; of accurate scholar- ship ; deeply read in divinity ; of great decision of character, and lofty independence of spirit ; and fer- vent piety. He, too, was naturally of a cheerful dis- position, but had been saddened by domestic affliction ; for marrying, shortly after coming to the living, a woman every way fitted for her post, being of sweet and most amiable temper, they had had five children ; 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 pretext or other; one of them being NOW AND THEN. \) to copy out some old sermons, tlie manuscript of which had become too small to be read in the pulpit conveniently ; Mr. Hylton'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 seven years before ; and Mrs. H3dton, having taken a liking to the girl, had her carried, about her fourteenth year, to the parsonage, and brought up under her own eye and that of her housekeeper. Sarah proved a good and grateful girl, and became very useful, being a thoroughly good needle-woman, and very discreet and intelligent : in short, she was a great favourite with both Mr. and Mrs. Hylton. Though her countenance was verjf pleasing, it could not properly be called pretty ; its expression was pensive and thoughtful ; her voice was very soft, and pleasant to hear ; and her figure excellent and 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 else being present than the housekeeper and Sarah : and no one can wonder if he often talked of what had happened to 10 NOW AND TUEN. him, particularly touching Phoebe. The good house- keeper 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 ; Adam all the while listening in silence, or with a sigh, and shaking his head. The last observa- tion, however, imperceptibly grew more grateful to his feelings whenever it was repeated. At length it occurred to him that Sarah, who was never very voluble, always preserved silence when such topic, or anything akin to it, was introduced, and looked very steadily at her needlework. One's own heart helps on the natural result of all this. On one such occasion as that which has just been referred to, Sarah ven- tured to lift up her eyes for an instant from her work, 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 discouraged, but never absolutely, by both Mr. and Mrs. Hylton, Adam married Sarah from the parsonage, with full consent of all persons concerned — his own father, and Mr. and Mrs. Hylton — and then took her home to the cottage ; where old Adam Ayliffe welcomed them with a solemn and affecting benediction, as he kissed the NOW AND THEN. 11 pale cheek of the meek and trembling- new-comer, that was quite patriarchal. " Daughter-in-law," said he, '' 1 am poor, so is this your husband ; and we may become poorer : but here is that which will make those rich that rely on it. Give me thy hand, Sarah, and thine, Adam," said he, solemnly, and placed them, with his own, upon the cover of an old family Bible : " Promise, with the blessing of Him that gave us this Book, never to look beyond it, in trouble, nor then to forget it. Thus promised my Sarah when God gave her to me, wha hath since taken her away again." The old man's voice trembled, but failed him not. Then he tenderly embraced both his son and daughter- in-law, who wept much, and they sat down to their frugal repast Avith such cheerfulness as they might. Adam and his son had for some time betaken them- selves to labour for their subsistence; and on this marriage taking place, both found it necessary to redouble their exertions, in order to meet their aug- mented expenditure ; for small as it might be at first, prudence warned them to prepare against any pro- bable increase of it. Bitter, bitter was it to young Ayliffe, when first he saw his venerable father enter into the capacity of a hireling ; but not so with his father, who heartily thanked God for the strength 12 NOW AND THEN. that he still had, and the opportunity of profitably exerting that strength. To the necessity for doiri^ so, he had long become reconciled. These three were the sole occupants of the cottage : and Mrs. AylifFe, being herself, as one might say, neatness personified, felt a keen and anxious 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 sometimes go very early and return very late, she thought with trembling solicitude about the future ; for in due time there was the prospect of her 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 be enjoying the repose suited to his years, greatly distressed her sensitive feelings; 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 longer last- ing affection than ever he might have entertained for her whose place she had so unexpectedly come to occupy. Both he and his father engaged themselves in their 1-abours with sustained alacrity. But after about a year and a half s severe and constant exertion, in the ordinary out-door operations of farming, it told NOW AND THEN. 13 more heavily on old Adam's physical powers 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 Avas obliged to lay up ; and also to incur considerable expense by medical attendance^ rendered indispensable by a certain serious injury, which strong exertion, at his time of life, was but too sure to occa- sion. About a year after her marriage, poor Mrs. AylifFe 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, never- theless, constant attention, especially to secure any degree of comfort. Alas ! how were all these sadly increased exig^encies to be encountered ? There was but the labour of young Ayliffe, itself pro- ducing no great results, but still sufficient, with good management and frugality, to supply their daily ne- cessities ; there being, fortunately, no rent to be paid for the house in which they lived. But how long might that be the case ? For already had arisen the sad necessity of parting with another portion of the 14 NOW AND THEN. land which still constituted the family property. It had cost old AylifFe a bitter pang to part with an acre ; 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 most magnificent structure, stood at only some 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 great talents, and the high political position which he had occupied. Suffice it at present to say, that the Earl did not give him- self much personal concern with the management of his estates, but devolved it upon others — upon agents resident where his properties were situate, and all of whom were under the control of one prin- cipal who lived in London, and was a person of no little importance, from the nature and extent of the influence and authority which he enjoyed and ex- ercised. The Earl's local agent at Milverstoke was Mr. 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 that was not likely to secure to his noble employer the NOW AND THEN. 15 goodwill of those who were connected with him as tenants or neighbours. It was Mr. Oxley who had negotiated the purchase of the land which old Ayliffe had been forced to sell in consequence of the villainy of the pei:son for whom he had become bound; and the object of Mr. Oxley, in making that purchase, was the furtherance of a 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 in- convenient 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 Ayliffe on the subject to an extent which only one of so well-regu- lated 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, which therefore had long been a very grievous eyesore to Mr. Oxley, as a monu- ment at once of his own abortive negotiation, and Ayliffe's dogged obstinacy. 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 — • 16 NOW AND THEN. to see their residence pulled down, and all trace of it destroyed ; in vain did the matter-of-fact man of busi- ness hear that Ayliffc had 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 cun- ning—for such to him they appeared — pretexts urged so pertinaciously ; but Ayliffe was not to be tempted : and his resolution irritated Mr. Oxley the more, be- cause the latter, not dreaming of such an obstacle, had somewhat rashly 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 proceedings attempted on his behalf. But his Lordship had only recently made Milverstoke his constant residence, on his somewhat sudden retire- ment from public life, and possibly knew little or nothing of what went on in his name, and professedly on his behalf; and as for Ayliffe and his property, the Earl knew little more than that there was a small NOW AND THEN. 1 7 freeholder of that name living at a short distance from the Castle, whose slight interest in the soil must be pur^chased, before the contemplated approach could be made from the high road to the Castle. On the occasion just alluded to, as witnessing the last effort of Mr. Oxley to effect his purpose, Ayliffe and his son were together in the cottage ; and the former, unprovoked by much intemperate and coarse language, which, however, greatly inflamed 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 smile, " let him be satisfied with what he has: 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 you, Mr. Oxley. Yet once more will I try, and with words that perhaps may reach the ear that mine cannot. Will you hear me?" *' Ay, I will hear, sure enough, friend Adam," said Mr. Oxley, curiously ; on which Ayliffe took down a c 18 NOW AND THEN. large old brass-bound book, and, opening it on his lap, read with deliberate emphasis as follows : — • " Naboth, the Jezreelite, had a vineyard, which was in Jezreel, hard by the palace of Ahab, King of Sa- maria. " 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 unto thee.' " When he had read these last words, 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 jocu- larity. *'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 NOW AND THEN. 19 is one somewhat larger that will be ready for you by-and-bye " — This insulting allusion to the workhouse, or the county gaol, old AylifFe received in dignified silence. Not so 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 in two strides, seized him by the collar with the hand of a giant, and before his astonished father could interpose, had dragged Mr. Oxley to the door- way, near which he had been standing, and with a single jerk flung him out into the open air with a vio- lence which sent him staggering several yards, till he fell down at full length on the ground. " Adam, Adam, what have you done?" commenced his father, approaching his son with an astounded air. "Nay, never mind me, father," muttered his son, vehemently, standing with arms a-kimbo, and watch- ing Mr. Oxley with eyes flashing fury. " There, Mas- ter Oxley : show never here again 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 moving furiously towards Mr. Oxley, who precipitately quitted the garden, " or I '11 teach c2 /f* 34 NOW AND THEN. tell ? " Now approached to the door the two men who had come for the clock, which they received very carefully ; Ayliffe scarcely opening his lips the while, but looking on in silence. At length the business being ended, the men bade him respectfully " Good evening;" the cart rumbled away; and Ayliffe gazed at the corner then standing vacant for the first time during half a century, with moist eyes and feelings too big for utterance. 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 Redeemer of mankind, the joy and glory of heaven and earth! In the wrapt contemplation, behold the very dust of earth become instinct with heavenly intelligence : even as the stars sang together for joy I 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 vastness of the universe, singled out for such pur- pose in the unsearchable wisdom of the Most High ! Angels unseen! bow with us — ^your present dust-clad NOW AND THEN. 35 brethren — your heads in awe profound! Together let us celebrate this Mystery, saying, " Glory to God in the highest; and on earth peace, good-will TOWARDS MEN ! Thus, lieaven-Mndled, is the joyous- ness of Christmas : soul-elevating : heart-opening. Therefore do all Christian people welcome this so- lemnly cheerful season ; their hearts being first pros- trate 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 humble, the distinguished 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, re- garded with pious reflection, with reverential grati- tude, and cheerful submission. How bleak and blighting 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 becoming evident a great disparity between their views and feelings ; the one tending towards a sullen intolerance of that adver- sity, which the other bore with faithful humility and d2 36 NOW AND THEN. resignation. During the week preceding that of the Christmas with which we are concerned, there occurred between old AylifFe and his son, their first serious dispute and misunderstanding, and which 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 mother; and, judging from a former occasion, with what a prospect before her! The sight of her sweet but care-worn face was agony to her husband insupportable; and it sent her good father-in-law often to his 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 exclaiming, as the doctor spoke, "Nourfehing food! Heaven help thee, dear Sarah, where is it io 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 Ayliffe could not refrain from talking about that which was uppermost in his thoughts —the NOW AND THEN. 37 feeble condiiion of his wife, and her doctor's constant recommendation of nourishing food. "And why don't you get it, if you care for her?" inquired his com- panion with a surprised air, resting for a moment from his work. " Surely," quoth poor Ayliflfe, " 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, Ayliffe's new friend pointed at game ; speaking most temptingly of hare, above all other sorts of game, as a dainty dish, whether roast or stewed, for those that were sick and delicate ; and assured Ayliffe that his (the speaker's) wife had lived secretly on hare all through her time of trouble, and had never in her life thriven so well; for nought was so nourishing as hare's flesh. Poor Ayliffe listened to this with but too willing an ear, though it went 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 38 NOW AND THEN. 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 Ayliffe, in the frank simplicity of his nature, gave such a moving picture of his wife's necessities, as seemed greatly to interest his companion; who said that he happened to have by him a very fine hare that had been given him by a neighbouring squire, and which was greatly at Ayliffe's service. After much hesitation] he, with many thanks, accepted the gift ; and, accom- panying hia new friend to his cottage, received into his possession the promised hare (a finer one cer- tainly was hardly to be seen), and made his way homeward with his perilous present, under cover of the thickening shades of night. What horrid mis- givings 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 looked after, or poachers more severely punished than at Milverstoke. But he thought of his wife — of the relish with which she must partake of this hare; and by the inspiriting aid of thoughts such as these, he nerved himself to encounter her suspicions, and his father's rebuke and reproaches. And to be sure, a sad scene NOW AND THEN. 39 ensued on his reaching home ; where he found his father and wife anxiously awaiting his protracted arrival. " Sarah," said he, as he entered, '^ 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, de- manding 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, very sternly, " you have gone very wrong in this matter, and your face shows the trouble which it has cost you 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," 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 40 NOW AND THEN. pacify them. Old AylifFe was inexorable, and spoke far more sternly than either of them had ever heard him speak before ; till, indeed, he had spurred his son's temper into unwonted heat and violence. '' I am tiredj and so should we all be, of being beg- gars, and living on charity," said he. " Better be beggar, Adam, than robber," replied his father. " 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 ruddy one proceeding from the peat fire. After gazing for some time with gloomy steadfastness at his son, old Ayliffe rose, took up the hare, and walked with it towards the door. " Why, what are you going to do 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 con- siderable distance in a state of utterly unprecedented agitation and anger. At lengthy however, he returned somewhat calmed ; and finding his father and his wife sitting up awaiting his return, and cowering chillily NOW AND THEN. 41 over the nearly extinct fire, his heart suddenly sof- tened at the sight of them, and he could not return their fond greeting, for emotion. " Come, Adam, my dear son!" quoth the old man, grasping him affectionately by the hand, *' mischief you meant not, I am sure ; but mischief and wrong have you done. But now are we friends : and get thee to bed, with Sarah^ 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, throw- ing her arms round her husband's neck ; '' never will I touch game that I know not how it came hither — nay, I will not, Adam, lest we get into trouble, and do auger God !" These last words made her husband glance suddenly towards her as if he would have spoken ; but he re- strained 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 42 NOW AND THEN. poaching.- The sad truth was, that he had been en- trapped 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 ; and who should be at the justice's, on some matter of business, when the warrant was applied for, but Mr. Oxley, who quickly saw what a lever this occurrence afforded him, wherewith to force the Ayliffes into surrendering their cottage, and so allowing the long-sought im- provements in the Earl's estate, to be at once effectu- ated. 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 father; and had the young man resisted, in spite of the staves of the constables, his prodigious strength would have made him their match — and who could have answered for the result? — but a miserable groan from his father, accompanying the words, '' Go, lad I go : and I '11 follow thee presently ! " brought him to his senses ; and he peaceably, but despairingly, accompanied 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 : NOW AND THEN. 43 Ayliffe confessing that he had had the hare in his pos- session (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. " I have not five farthings," said Ayliffe, despe- rately ; '' and if I go to prison, it will go hard with my poor wife — that 's all !" The magistrate looked at him very kindly, and read him a serious lecture on the consequence of listening to bad advice, and the heinous nature of an offence against the game laws ; which his Worship said were the only things that prevented the country from be- coming barbarous ; on which account the law was pro- perly very strict — but, alas ! not half strict enough to put down the enormous vice of poaching. While this and much more was being said, some one, at the instance of Mr. Oxley, who dared not be seen by the prisoner personally, 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 gaol first!" said young Ayliffe, fiercely. " Mayhap I now see how I got here 1" This he said with a strange expression. At this moment arrived Mr. Hylton, accompanied 44 NOW AND THEN. by old AylifFo; who, on his son's being taken away, had gone to the parson, and told him everything that had happened : and so moved him by his artlessness and misery, that Mr. Hylton took five pounds with him, and borrowing a gig from the surveyor in the village, drove off in it, accompanied by old Ayliffe, and arrived at the magistrate's just in time to save young Ayliffe from being committed to prison for three months ac- cordino^ to the statute. " I have reason to believe," said Mr. Hylton to his brother magistrate, " that this poor soul has fallen into a trap set for him, and hath done it ignorantly, and from love of a sick wife ; and I will pay the penalty for him." At this young Ayliffe could not restrain himself, but wept bitterly. " I wish," said his Worship, " it were fitting for me to join in paying this fine, or that I could remiit it ; but my duty is imperative." So this sad affair ended. Mr. Hylton very sternly desired young A3diffe to attend at the parsonage at nine o'clock the next morning, and then drove home the elder Ayliffe, who could scarce speak for sorrow. " This five pounds," said Mr. Hylton, " is not a light matter to me, for I cannot get in my tithes with- out great, trouble, and neither of you will be able, I NOW AND THEN. 45 fear, to repay it me : that, however, I ask not, but freely forgive your son ; whom I will, with God's blessing, read a lesson in the morning that he shall not forget." With this they alighted 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, and the agitation and mortification of the day. No reproaches had he to encounter from his father, whom he found on his knees, in his bed-room, with his hands clasped over his heart ! By nine o'clock on the morning ensuing, young Ayliife was standing in the library of Mr. Hylton, who was greatly moved when he saw the woe- struck face of the culprit. " 1 am not going to make a mighty business of this, Adam," said Mr. Hylton, after compelling him to sit down, '' because I see that you feel deeply the wrong that you have done. You knew better, Adam, and terribly forgot yourself ; — and see the consequences! Your father never had to bow his good head with shame, before yesterday ; and then through no fault of his : and your wife, 1 dare say, has suffered not a little on this account." 46 NOW AND THEN. AylifFe's lip quivered, and presently his tears could not be any longer forced back. " How is she, Adam, this morning ? '' said Mr. Hyl- ton, gently. After a few moments' pause, AylifFe faltered, ^' Terribly ill. Sir !" " I was afraid of this ; but we must look after her : and Mrs. Hylton is by thi§ time there, with some small matters suitable for her situation." ''Sir — Sir!" said Ayliffe, with sudden vehemence, after forcing down 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 ! — 1 'm quite heart-broken. Sir !" " Give me your hand, Adam," said Mr. Hylton, 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 mere love to a suffering wife. And now, Adam " continued Mr. Hylton, 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 how nearly I had succeeded : when, behold ! you are suddenly a convicted poacher ! NOW AND THEN. 47 T have fears that you have undone all ; but hope that what passed yesterday has not yet been carried into the next county. I am going to the r^jctor, who is an old friend of mine, to tell him the true state of the case, and what great allowances ought to be made for 3^ou, He is a very feeling man, 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-bye, when this matter may be somewhat 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 saddle- bags are even now being got in readiness." It is in vain to attempt describing the feelings of mingled gratitude, fear, hope, and vexation with which all this was listened to by Ayliffe. " You know I am dealing kindly by you," con- tinued 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 1 'm a true man. Sir, for all that 's happened, I never will. Sir; even though we be all starving!" replied Ayliffe, with energy. 48 NOW AND THEN. " 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 back home, and comfort your wife and father as well as you may. I have a very long day's ride before me." So they parted. About ten minutes afterwards Ayliffe, trudging homeward, was overtaken by Mr. Hylton on horseback, in travelling trim, having thus made good his word, and being already on his errand of goodness. " God bless you, Adam," said he, as he passed smartly along. " God Almighty bless you. Sir! — and thank you!" faltered Ayliffe, 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 moment, 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, toge- ther with some rice, tea, sugar, two rabbits, and nearly a quarter of a cheese, all of which had been most sym- pathisingly carried by the servant who accompanied her. NOW AND THEN. 49 and who had known Mrs. Aylific in her happier days at the parsonage. When Ayliff'e was aware of the visit of these gentle benefactors, he stood gazing in tearful silence at the prints of their 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 angels' visit. The next morning he presented himself, as usual, to his employers; who, however, rejected his services, having heard of the atrocity of which he had just been convicted, and being moreover directly under the influence of Mr. Oxley, from whose noble master the hare had been purloined which lay buried behind the cottage : having attained thereby a distinction pos- sibly never conferred upon hare before. Three days elapsed before Mr. Hylton returned, and when he did, it was with a sad countenance; for his friend had, not unreasonably, deemed the conviction for poaching to be an insuperable obstacle in the way of receiving Ayliff'e as the master of the newly esta- blished 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 memorial in favour of poor Ayliffe's irreproachable character from the leading people in the village. On the Sunday Mr. Hylton observed that young Ayliffe was absent E 50 NOW AND THEN. from church, and sent the clerk at the close of the service to old Ayliffc, who was in his usual place, but with a very dejected look, desiring him to attend for a moment in the vestry. When he appeared, Mr. Hylton shook him warmly by the hand, told him of the dis- appointment which he had experienced ; and seemed much affected when the old man told 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 expressions which had somewhat dis- quieted him ; for they were of an unforgiving nature. " Talk you to him, Ayliffe," said Mr. Hylton ear- nestly, " 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 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 rumbling sound, coming from the direction of the high road, which 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 travelling carriage and four (followed by two others) turned the corner, being i NOW AND TUEN. 51 that of Lord Alkmond, the only son and heir of the Earl of Milverstoke, coming down to the Castle for the Christmas holidays. " Stay and pay respect to the young Lord," quoth the old man to his son, preparing to uncover. " Ho- nour to whom honour is due ! " '' No — I will not, if even thou, mine own father, went on thy knees/' said his son sternly, walking in- ward; while the old man, standing rigidly erect, respectfully took off his broad hat, exposing as fine a bald head, fringed with white hair, as ever had been uncovered to the young Lord, who, catching sight of him, returned the courtesy in a hasty mili- tary fashion (for he was an officer in the Guards) as they shot past. He knew no more than the beau- tiful boy whom he was at the moment fondling, of the injurious and offensive proceedings of Mr, Oxley towards the owner of that cottage. " There will be rare doings 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. LIBRARY UNIVERSITY OF Xim E 2 52 NOW AND THEN. CHAPTER II. MiLVERSTOKE Castle was a truly magnificent struc- ture, worthy of its superb situation, which was on the slope of a great forest, stretching down to the sea-shore. Seen from the sea^ especially by moonlight, it had a most imposing and picturesque appearance ; but from no part of the surrounding land was it visible at all, owing to the great extent of woodland in which it was embosomed. The Earl of Milverstoke, then lord of that stately residence, had a personal appearance and bearing which might be imagined somewhat in unison with its leading characteristics. He was tall, thin, and erect ; his manner was composed, his countenance refined and intellectual, and his features comely ; his hair had been for some years changed from jet-black into iron-grey. His bearing was lofty, sometimes even to repulsiveness ; his temper and spirit 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, NOW AND THEN. 53 b lit always from superior discretion and deliberation. He was a man of powerful intellect, extensive know- ledge, and admirably fitted for public aifairs; in which, indeed, he had borne a conspicuous 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 principal ; 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 become 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. Whatever foundation there might have been for this supposition, it contributed to embitter the feelings of the Earl, and strengthen a tendency to misanthropy. Still his character had fine features. He was most munificent; the very soul of honour; a perfect gentle- man; and of irreproachable morals. He professed a firm belief in Christianity, and was exemplary in the discharge of what he considered to be the duties which 54 NOW AND THEN. it imposed upon him. He would listen to the inculca- tion of the Christian virtues of humility, gentleness, and forgiveness of injury, with a kind of stern compla- cency ; unaware, all the while, that they no more ex- isted within himself, than fire could be elicited from the sculptured marble. Most of his daytime he spent in his library, or in solitary drives, or walks along the sea-shore or in the country. Unfortunately, he took no personal part, nor felt any personal interest, in the management of his large revenues and extensive private affairs; intrusting them, as has been already intimated, implicitly to others. When he rode through the village which lay sheltered near the confines of the woodland in which his castle was situated, he ap- peared 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 Chaplains, but by no means on intimate terms with him; for that the Vicar's firm independent character unfitting him. While he acknowledged the command- ing talents of the Earl^ his Lordship was, on his part, fully aware of Mr. Hylton's strong intellect^, superior scholarship, 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 — and that his stately parishioner had had NOW AND THEN. 55 rn any opportunities of observing; and, in sliort, Mr. Hylton was a much less frequent visitor at the Castle than might have been supposed, and was at least war- ranted, by his position and proximity. Possibly some of the Earl's frigid reserve towards him was occasioned by the cordial terms of intimacy which had existed between him and the late Countess — an excellent personage, who, living in comparative retirement at Milverstoke, while her lord was immersed in political life, had consulted Mr. Hylton constantly on the early education of her two children. The Earl had married late in 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 his father, but had not his implacability. If he should succeed to that father's titles and estates, he would be the first instance of such direct succession for nine ge- nerations: the Earl himself having been the third son of a second son. The family was of high antiquity, and its noble blood had several times interminofled with that of royalty. His daughter, Lady Emily Amaranthe, was, when presented to the reader, nearly entering on her eight- eenth year, and promised to be, as had been her mother, one of the most beautiful women in England. 56 NOW AND THEN. In her were the lofty spirit of her father, and the gentle virtues of her mother, blended in such a man- ner as to be gradually investing her with considerable influence over her stern surviving parent — for that occasional firmness, in a beautiful girl, secretly pleased him, which in one of his own sex would have served only to call into aciion an over-mastering manifesta- tion of the same quality. On his son, the Lord Viscount Alkmond, all the Earl's 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 nearly three years married to a very lovely person — the heiress and representative of a family of the highest distinction ; and, to the Earl's unutterable delight, she had brought 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 this; 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 temperament of both, unfavour- able to the growth of affectionate confidence. They NOW AND THEN. 57 had had but one serious misunderstanding-, however, in their hves, and that had occurred some year or so before their being presented to the reader — when Lord Alkmond astounded even his wealthy and mu- nificent father, by asking for a very large sum of money, at the same time refusing even to answer any question concerning the destination 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 obit 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 ; and many distinguished visitors had been invited, whose equipages had thundered at inter- vals past old Ayliffe's cottage for a day or two before that on which Lord Alkmond had passed, as has been described ; he having been detained in town by mili- tary business, rendered necessary by his having ob- tained a somewhat extended leave of absence. The rejoicings were not to be confined to the bril- 58 NOW AND THEN. liant circle assembled at the Castle : the order had gone forth for corresponding festivities and holiday making among the villagers and the surrounding te- nantry; 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 was, on that occasion, melted into cheerful 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 half of the sum paid to the humblest helper in the stables would have provided a substantial repast on Christmas-day for the melancholy occupants of the cottage ; but no one in that magnificent structure ever thought of them. Had it not been for the kindness 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 to be with old AyliiFe, as far as this world's hopes and happiness were concerned, he rose very early in the morning, while even yet the stars were glittering brightly in the cold clear sky, and all was solemn silence. What pure and elevating thoughts NOW AND THEN. 59 were his, whose spirit dropped for a while the fetters of earth, while mounting into heavenly contemplation ! The old man was the onl}^ one from the cottage who made his appearance at church that day ; and the vigi- lant e3^e of Mr. Hylton could scarce detect his distant figure, lost as it was in the novel crowd of gentle and simple, from the Castle, that occupied the church. When he returned home, he found his son and daughter far more despondent even than he had left them. The former seemed scarcely capable of speak- ing in answer to either his wife or father ; who attri- buted 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 yo-ung Ayliffe which had been made by the indefatigable Mr. Hylton on his visit to his friend, and which was likely to be suc- cessful, viz., to obtain for him the situation, then vacant, of bailiff to a wealthy squire, related to the clergyman who had demurred to appoint young Ayliffe to the mastership of the school. Here Mr. Hylton was sanguine of success ; and he had good grounds for ex- pecting, within a few days' time, to be able to announce to that unhappy little family an event which would be really, to them all, like life from the dead. Only one visitor had the Ayliffes on that dreary Christmas-day, 60 NOW AND THEN. and it was Mr. Hyltoii, who went to them after the morning 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 conclud- ing the meal for which they had been indebted to Mr. Hylton as he entered. They all looked so sad — even old Ayliffe — that Mr. Hylton longed to an- nounce the strong hopes which he entertained that better days were, through his efforts, in store for them ; but, after balancing the matter for some little time in his mind, humane prudence prevailed, and he left them to return to his own snug Christmas fire- side ; partaking of those homely comforts awaiting him, with a sense of quiet enjoyment, which was some- what dashed, however, by a recollection of the cheerless scene which he had shortly before quitted. The first glass of wine which he took after dinner accompanied the following expression of his benevolent feelings : — " May God Almighty bless all mankind, and especially the virtuous poor, with his choicest blessings. I^et us drink to the health of all my parishioners, peer and peasant, in castle and cottage, — all this day duly re- NOW AND THEN. 61 memberiiig who it was that lay in the manger, and why. And may God bless thee, my Mary," said he, embracing his wife ; " and thee, our only little one — thou last lamb of our flock," he added, 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 at several chairs ranged at the farther end of the room, which had no longer any stated occupants. Presently, however, they got into a more cheerful vein, Avhich was interrupted 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 !" exclaimed Mrs. Hylton. " Ay, it was; it seemed to me as if there were a sea of strange faces, and all, 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 Christmas congregation ! And I can tell you, too, that he listened to my sermon very atten- tively : and, by the way, there were one or two things in it that might do his Grace no harm to remember." " He has a line commanding face, Henry, has he not?" 62 NOW AND THEN. " 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 poured out for each another glass of wine. Good Mrs. Hylton was not far wrong. Her husband's features were still handsome, plainly stamped with the impress of thought, and, as it were, radiant with be- nignity. 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 m^^ 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, embedded in ice, which you have to break through before you can get at it. He is one of the most powerful intellects that we have ; and yet "— NOW AND THEN. G3 '' How like him young Lord Alkmond is — only handsomer." *•' Not handsomer than his father was, when he was his son's age, I can tell you. 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 perfect." " Perfect^ my dear, is a huge word ; but 'tis Christ- mas, and we won't cjuarrel about icords. Lady Emily is a fine creature ; but, when she chooses, she can be as stately as her lofty papa." " She is growing very like the Countess, Henry." " 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 delivered a very cordial invitation 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 dined at the Castle. Splendid was the scene which they encountered on that occasion. I'he 64 NOW AND THEN. Castle had never, in fact, during twenty years, witnessed such festivity. As they returned home, both remarked the buoyant spirits of the Earl of Milverstoke, and the exquisite courtesy of his manners. While good Mrs. Hylton had occupied herself chiefly with Lady Emily, and Lady Alkmond and her beautiful boy, Mr. Hylton had been watching the Earl and Lord Alkmond, observing in the latter manifestly forced spirits, espe- cially when he was brought into contact with his father, whose eye Mr. Hylton occasionally observed directed towards his son with what appeared an expression of rapid but anxious 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 compliment to the officers of a dragoon regi- ment, one of whose out-quarters were at the barracks at some two miles' distance, their head-quarters being in an adjoining county. Every officer, either in that regiment or any other, was invited, if within reach, though at even twenty miles' distance ; for an affair of that kind was not an everyday occurrence, and Lord Alkmond, moreover, being himself, as. has been noticed, an officer. Every evening had the band from the barracks been placed at the disposal of the Earl, for the entertainment of his guests ; and charming in- deed was the effect which they produced, when, the NOW AND THEN. 65 weather admitting, their music echoed through the woods. On the occasion last mentioned, namely, that of the military demonstration at the Castle, Mr. Hyl- ton happened to be returning home from paying a visit to a sick parishioner. His walk lay for up- wards 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 fit- fully 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, evi- dently fired in the wood. Then there was another re- port. " Oh ho !" thought he, as he resumed his walk homeward, " the rogues think they have found an opportunity !" He was somewhat surprised, a few moments afterwards, at the music abruptly ceasing, in the midst of a well-known national air ; and, unless his ear deceived him, he heard the faint sound of human voices, but evidently at a considerable distance. His experience as a magistrate suggested to him a solution of what he had heard, viz., a collision between poachers and the keepers. Just as he had reached the parsonage-gate, which was not till some half-hour after he had heard the suspicious sounds in the wood, a horseman came galloping up the road which he had F QQ JJOW AND THEN. just quitted, and wliich led on to the park-gates of the Castle. A moment afterwards, and a dragoon in undress uniform 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 direction brought Mr. Hylton 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 occurred within the last quarter of an hour. How shall it be written ? Lord Alkmond had just 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 carried into the Castle, by two dragoons, who trembled violently 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 ob- NOW AND THEN. 67 served 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 galloped back again faster than before, following a person in plain clothes, who appeared to be leading the way for them. Woeful to relate, their errand was to Ayliffe's cottage ; which they reached a few moments after young AylifFe had sprung into it, nearly striking down the door as he entered; reeking with perspiration; with horror in his face ; breathing like a hard-run hare ; and glaring blood-stains on one of his arms. His father, who was sitting beside a small candle, reading the Bible, shrunk from him, aghast and speechless ; and young Ayliffe was uttering some incoherent sounds in answer to his 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 you want with me ?" at length gasped young Ayliffe, hoarsely, staring with haggard coun- tenance at the soldiers. " Do you surrender to us, who demand it in the King's name ? " said one of them, — the sergeant. Young AylifFe started up from the seat on which he had thrown himself, and, with a desperate effort, said, f2 68 NOW AND THEN. " "Where 's 3^our authority to take me ? This is my father's house ! " ''Raise 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 you arrest me for?" inquired Ayliffe, hoarsely. " When we have you in safe keeping according to orders, you shall 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 to the soldiers. At that moment was heard the sound of rapidly approaching horse-feet ; and presently a constable en- tered, with his staff, and approaching said — " Adam Ayliffe, I arrest you for the murder of Lord Alkmond, in the wood, just now ! " on which a loud groan issued from poor old Ayliffe, and then he fell senseless on the ground. In the sudden agitation and horror of the scene, had not been noticed a female head thrust hastily through the half opened door, the moment after young Ayliffe had rushed into the house, as has been de- scribed ; nor had any one observed or heard a dull sound, as of one falling ; but the miserable Mrs. Ayliffe had sunk on the floor of her room in a swoon. NOW AND TUEN. 61) and never moved since. " Sally ! — Sarah ! Where art thou ? " shouted young AylifFe, wildly, making a mo- tion towards the door ; but the constable proceeded to put handcuffs on him. " If thou stir a foot, till these be on," said the ser- geant, coolly, thou wilt have lead in thee :" on which Ayliffe, with a bewildered stare, yielded himself to his captors, and shortly afterwards was gently forced from the room, and assisted on the horse of one of the dis- mounted dragoons, who first withdrew the pistols from the holster. The others instantly mounted, leaving the one whose horse was ridden by Ayliffe, in the cottage, to attend on old Ayliffe, who seemed in a fit ; and within half an hour the horror-stricken and half- stunned Ayliffe was safely lodged in the cage near the village ; the troop which had escorted him remaining on guard around it, till relieved by orders from the barracks. An excited crowd of villagers soon ga- thered around the cage, but was kept at a distance by the dragoons, who would 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 rigid indifference to the loud murmurs of the crowd around, expressing indigna- tion at Mr. Ilyl ton's rejection. " Where did you 70 NOW AND THEN. take Adam Ayliffe — your prisoner ? " he inquired, but received no answer. Mr. Hylton withdrew hastily ; one of the officers in full uniform, who had been dining at the Castle in company with the late Lord Alkmond, rode up, and was, of course, duly saluted by the soldiers. " 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 scru- tiny at the cage. He saw that it looked old, and was not over-strongly constructed. " No one," he whis- pered, " 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 with this the officer was galloping off, when a loud howl was 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. Two soldiers dismounted, and stood, sword in hand, by their officer. " Stand back ! " said he, quietly. The door was opened, and the sergeant, holding up NOW AND THEN. 71 the lantern in the doorway, disclcscd 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 whispered to one of the men. The door was then closed, and the officer 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. Hyl ton's bene- volent heart dictated another errand to him ; on being repulsed from the cage, he remounted his horse and had 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, apparently in a stupor. Beside him lay huddled up near the fireplace the poor child of the prisoner^ still sobbing, having cried itself to sleep. A woman whom the soldier had fetched from a neighbouring cottage, was in the inner room ; and on Mr. Hyl ton 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. Ayliffe ! What 's to be done ? " quoth Mr. Ilylton ; '' I will 72 NOW AND THEN. go for the doctor ;" and, as fast as his horse could carry him, he went. 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 bewil- derment. At the moment when the bleeding corpse of the young Lord was being carried towards the Castle, Lady Alkmond was gracefully dancing a minuet. The ball-room presented a very splendid appearance. Many officers were there ; the costume of the ladies was exceedingly beautiful ; and the loveliest of the figures that wore it, was the young Lady Emily, who that evening was making her first appearance in public. The Earl of Milverstoke had never appeared before to such great advantage ; having dropped almost all his stern stateliness, he was a model of courtly ease and affability. Even the Duke of Braden- ham, formerly one of his colleagues in the Cabinet, was eyeing him with great interest, wondering how molli- fying an effect had been produced, by retirement and reflection, in 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 chamber suddenly appearing at one of the large doors of the ball-room, where he whispered to the nobleman NOW AND THEN. 73 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 whispering was heard ; agitated faces were seen ; hurried gestures were ob- served ; and w^hen Lord Milverstoke quitted the apartment, with a face suddenly blanched and over- spread with horror, amazement and terror reached their climax. Faint shrieks and loud cries, and uni- versal agitation ensued throughout the Castle ; and in a few moments more all was known, and Lord Milver- stoke ver^ino^ on madness. The banquet of that day had partaken of a military character, in compliment to Lord Alkmond; nearly twenty officers — all, in short, who happened to be within twenty miles of the Castle — had been invited ; and the Earl of Milverstoke and several of the guests had quitted the room, leaving Lord Alkmond and his brother officers around the dinner-table to themselves. The conversation was for some time gay and animated, till accidentally a topic was introduced which only one or two perceived to be, for some reason or other, dis- tasteful to Lord Alkmond, who changed colour, and immediately addressed the person next to him, on some other subject. The general conversation, however, continued on the topic alluded to ; and Lord Alkmond 74 NOW AND THEN. was at length observed by one next to him, an officer, to be disquieted ; he became silent, uttering sup- pressed sighs ; and at length all of them quitted the room to repair to the ball-room. Lord Alkmond was seen by some servants, directly afterwards, quitting the Castle, with his hat on ; but this attracted no attention, since his Lordship was frequently in the habit of taking solitary rambles in the woods. He walked 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 two or three other persons, all of them greatly agitated. The head keeper, with two others, had, while going his rounds in the woods, heard suddenly a dull, heavy sound ; then that as of a person falling at some little distance ; then, steps, as of one running. Continuing in the same direction, they encountered a body stretched on the ground, and, to their inconceivable horror, recognised Lord Alkmond, wrapped in a great coat, bleeding profusely from a frightful blow on the side of the head, and speechless — motionless — sense- less — DEAD. " Follow ! follow ! follow those steps ! There 's some one running ! " exclaimed the head keeper. NOW AND THEN. 75 " Hollo !— There, there 's the murderer ! " all of them shouted violently. The two who were in pursuit at length 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. " Ha ! — I know him ! " exclaimed one of the pur- suers. "It's Adam Ayliffe!" and while the one who had not fired continued the pursuit, the other ran to the barracks, which were little more than a mile 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 prisoner was formally delivered up to the civil power ; but owing to the public excitement, which was every moment increasing, the military were requested to escort the ])risoner to the justice-hall of the neigh- bouring justice, who was the one that 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, stepping from the cage into the post-chaise which was to convey him to the magistrate, a groan issued from the appalled bystanders— a groan of 76 NOW AND THEN. 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. Ayliffe's eyes were blood- shot, and his forehead was severely bruised, and much swollen, with the blows, which he had given himself over night ; his lips were tightly compressed together, 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 magisterial capacity. They set off at a rapid pace, preceded and followed by the dragoons. Their road lay past A3^1iffe's cottage, and as they approached it, the prisoner became dreadfully excited. He sat upright, and stared with a half-phrenzied 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 pri- soner, whom she was taking to her own home for awhile, 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. The prisoner moaned heavily as they drove past, and sunk back with a deep groan in the chaise. There was already a considerable concourse around the gates of the magis- NOW AND THEN. 77 trate's house, and it was deemed prudent for the military to remain till the proceedings were over. There were three magistrates 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 at that moment was Mrs. Hylton herself, in compassionate attendance on her suffering sister. When Ayliffe, heavily ironed, entered the justice -room, with a constable on each side, he seemed not to observe any one before him ; but presently his eye lit on Mr. Hylton, who sat at the table, his head leaning on his hand, which con- cealed his face from him. "Sir! — Mr. Hylton!" shouted the prisoner with frantic energy, *^' could I do this thing that I am charged with ? No, no, no ! you know I could not !" Mr. Helton 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 ?" Again Mr. Hylton shook his head and remained silent, and the prisoner sunk down 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 78 NOW AND THEN. who had been summoned on the occasion declared that death must have Leen 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. Hylton 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, your Worship." " Is any one else suspected V '' Nobody at present, 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 pri- soner's haggard 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 Ayliffe," said the magistrate, "you stand committed for the wilful murder of the late Lord Viscount Alkmond." "^ It is false ! I never murdered him ! I know nought about it : and you are all driving me mad !" NOW AND THEN. 79 said the prisoner, starting up and looking wildly at the principal magistrate, who calmly made out the warrant of committal, and within an hour's time AylifFe was safely lodged in gaol, having been escorted by the dragoons, for fear of any sudden and desperate resistance being offered by one of such formidable physical powers as the prisoner. When the proceed- ings were closed, the two committing magistrates with- drew into another room, where was Mr. Hylton, and the three had a long conversation on the mysterious and frightful transaction which had called them to- gether officially 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 it appeared an awful mystery ; that the prisoner was by nature one of the frankest and best natured men in the world, and had been brought up by a father who was himself a very pattern of virtue and piety. " Ah !" said one of the magistrates, '' there "^s some- thing very fine in the character of old Ayliffe ; I know a little of him." ''What conceivable motive^^ commenced Mr. Hyl- ton — " Stay," said the justice in whose house they were, dropping his voice almost to a whisper — "■ you do 80 NOW AND THEN. not forget a former occurrence in this justice-room some few days ago, Mr. Hylton, when you acted so very liberally ?" "Alas! of what avail was it?" said Mr. Hylton. '' That is not what I mean," said the other ; " I heard a word or two from the prisoner on that occasion, which perhaps no one else did :" and he repeated what had caught his ear, unless he had been greatly mistaken, and about which he declared that he 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 inn in the village; and having gone in several post-chaises 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 forget, they heard substantially the same evidence which had been given before the ma- gistrates, 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 neighbour- hood, expressing amazement^ horror, and deep sym- pathy for poor old Ayliffe, and the prisoner's wife. The most rigorous inquiries elicited no circumstances NOW AND THEN. 81 Avhich could throw any light on an event which soon occasioned excitement throughout the whole king- dom. 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 afford a trace of the deed which had so recently been done but the dismal crimsoned spot that had witnessed the mysterious and horrible occurrence which had suddenly extinguished the mortal life of the next heir to the domains and dignities of Milver- stoke, in the very flower of his youthful manhood. Poor Lord Alkmond was, when thus hastily smitten out of the land of the living, apparently possessed of almost every imaginable worldly advantage and guarantee for happiness. He was one of the 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 man- ner was infinitely more gracious and winning, at all events till latterly, when some strange spell seemed to have come over 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, such as even only deepened before the stern solicitude of his father. How awful the obscurity which shrouded his sudden NOW AND THEN. departure ! 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 presumptuously questioned, and whose will it might be that this mysterious event should noji^be unravelled on earth. Beat your fair bosoms and be- wail 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 resi- dence of the great ones of the earth, till their dead be buried out of their sight, and their stricken hearts may be enlightened, humbled, and consoled from on high ! On Saturday was the burial. Lengthened was the funeral cavalcade, and many the noble mourners com- posing it, that wound slowly its way from the Castle to the church of Milverstoke, where a silent assem- blage of awestruck beholders awaited it. The chief mourner was the Earl of Milverstoke, treading with firm step, his face of ashy whiteness, — a world of woe in his dark eyes ; and from his lips had fallen no sound since he had, over night, ordered away the attendants from the chamber of the dead, that he might himself the livelong night pace before the bier of his murdered son. He now followed into the church, and to the black NOW AND THEN. 83 entrance of the vault, the remains of 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. QJl, 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 de- volved that sad office upon another ; but his duty was here plain^ and, though with a voice sometimes tremu- lous, he gave grand significance, because simple utter- ance, 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 messenger from London, an autograph letter from the King, expressing very deep concern for his misfortune ; and, as far as he could thence derive any consolation, the Earl had abundant proof of the sym- pathy felt for him by the whole kingdom. On the evening after the capture of young Ayliffe, occurred a circumstance worthy of perpetual remem- brance. Mr. Hylton, incident though the weather was, paid a visit to the late residence of the imprisoned malefactor, tenanted now by his miserable father, and alone. There, by the dim light issuing from the low fire, he beheld the old man kneeling, absorbed in G 2 84 NOW AND THEN. devotion, his large Bible lying before him, open on the floor. He scarcely noticed the entrance of Mr. Hylton ; but slowly rose on feeling the hand of Mr. Hylton gently squeezing his own, 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. Mr. Hylton poured out a little wine which he had brought with him, and forced the old man to drink of it. 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 Aylitfe had pointed, saw an object sufficiently startling : a thick oaken walking stick, which had been brought in by his son on the evening of his capture ; atid. alas, on it were evident marks of blood ! '' This is dreadful. Ay liffe^- 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.- NOW AND THEN. 85 The old man shook his head : " No/' 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, " that bloody witness had not been here now." Mr. Hylton was silent. He icas a magistrate, and his duty was painful, but plain. " Ayliffe," said he, gloomily, " I am a magistrate^" " I know thou art ; and that book, and thy good teaching 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, 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." 80 NOW AND THEN. " No one shall touch it, Sir, while I have strength to prevent it," said the old man, laying his hand on the open Bible : " and if, this 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." Mr. Hylton rose, and pronounced upon him a solemn benediction ; 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 himself. " I would have given much, Adam, that it had been any other than myself who had come hither and heard this," said he, at length ; " but if thine unhappy son be innocent, God may make it appear so ; but, 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," replied the old man. 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 NOW AND THEN. 87 passed a high eulogium on what he termed the Spartan spirit of the father of the prisoner. 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 famil3^-pew belonging to the Castle, and unte- nanted ; but one side of the gallery was nearly filled with a long array of the Earl's domestics, in deep mourning. The church was unusually crowded by the saddened occupants of the village and neighbour- hood, and others who had come from far and wide, thinkmg that the Vicar might, as was his custom on those which he deemed fitting occasions, make some allusions to the awful occurrence of the past week. Nor were they mistaken or disappointed. Methinks one may now see that exemplary person in the pulpit, on that memorable, melancholy, and exciting occasion, resolved to turn it to the profit of those who were before him. He was not quite as old as the Earl of Milverstoke ; and of middle stature. His hair was grey ; his face was intellectual — 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. Jt was only his independence of character, which had stood in the way, some years before, of his obtaining great 88 NOW AND THEN. clerical advancement. Here, however, lay his parish, the parishioners of which he loved — whose children's dust was intermingled with that of his own in the adjoining churchyard. When he had entered the pulpit, and looked round upon his solemn 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 knowest not what a day may hring forth.'' 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 indecorous directness of allusion. It was only towards the close of his most affecting and solemn address that his voice faltered as his eye lit upon an unexpected figure, in the further- most corner of the gallery, old Adam Ayliffe ; who, with a stern consciousness of rectitude of conduct, as far as concerned his fellow-creatures, and a lofty sense of what was at once his right and his duty towards Gdd — to enter the house of God, with a heart which He had smitten, to pay his vows there. Alone had he come, and unsupported, though with limbs weakened by NOW AND THEN. 89 abstinence and the agitation of the week^, to His Father's house. As he returned home, several offered 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. When he arrived 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 little hand, and smiled ; on which the old man's pent-up feelings gave way : " Nay, nay, lad, don't do that ! — thou 'It break my heart !" And the child seemed surprised, and then somewhat alarmed, at the weeping of both his grandfather and his nurse. ''It doth not trouble thee much, I trust?" at length said Ayliife, quietly. " 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 ; and " — she pointed to the little crea- ture's left leg — " much it misgives me he walk lame." " Well, God's will be done 1" said the old man ; and he leaned down and kissed its forehead tenderly, while his tears fell fast upon it. 90 NOW AND THEN. 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, whom it seemed to be the will of Heaven to remove for ever from the sight of their children. On the third Sunday after the funeral, two figures in very deep mourning passed slowly along the aisle to the central pew in the parish church : they were the Earl of Milverstoke and his daughter Lady Emily, whose beautiful but pale countenance was almost entirely hid 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 followed after his daughter, had ever looked before on so affect- ing an object, — ablackmonumentof grief unutterable. His daughter had placed herself at a distance from the Earlj wishing to avoid the sight of his pallid, wasted, and gloomy features, which bore deep and perhaps indelible traces of the sufferings which he had under- gone. His was a morbid and haughty spirit, which would rather perish under the crushing pressure of misery than seek for any alleviation of it by commu- nion with others. An expression of sympathy was in- deed intolerable to him; and by a certain strange perversity of his nature, he appeared loth to lose NOW AND THEN. 91 sight, even for an instant, of the full extent of his wretchedness. The bulk of the congregation were simple souls, who could not forbear gazing at him with a sort of subdued awe, which seemed to* exclude all tendency to pity. He had rarely ever spoken to any of them, and they had attributed it to his naturally cold 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 landlord, or as having ever turned a deaf ear to the cry of distress ; and some were there whose eyes were con- stantly in tears, while gazing at the haggard and emaciated figure of their own munificent but secret bene- factor. There also was one whom the noble mourner saw not, but whose eye was often occasionally upon him under an undefinable impulse — old Ayliffe. Possibly neither might have 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 ^2 NOW AND THEN. • 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^ a kind, but peremptory tone, — " Restrain 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 quitted their seats. This had not been observed, however, by old AylifFe in the gallery ; who, desirous of quitting before the Earl should have left bis pew, had gone as quickly as his enfeebled limbs would allow him, 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 agitation, which his daughter did not then observe- Old Ayliffe, though it was snowing thickly, took off" his hat and bowed ; trembling in every limb, he yet stood as erect as the Earl; but, when the carriage had driven 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 NOW AND THEN. 93 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 forbidden any interview between him and his father. Old Ayliffe 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 turn- key gruffly : " poison and razors have been found, before now, on folks going in to see murder-pri- soners !" Ayliffe trembled at the words. ''No one, friend, that feared God would do so," said he. ''I don't know that," replied the turnkey, ''but noic, you are a safe man aad 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 ! Adam !" said the old man in a low tremu- lous whisper, " art thou innocent or guilty ? " and his 94 NOW AND THEN. anguished eyes seemed staring into the very soul of his son, who cahnly replied, — *' Father, before God Almighty, I be as innocent as thou art, nor know I 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 rising from 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 steadily on those of his father, who slowly rose and placed his trembling arms around his son, and embraced him in silence : " How is Sarah ?" faltered the prisoner, faintly. " Ask me not, Adam," said the old man ; who quickly added, perceiving the sudden agitation of his son, " but she is not dead : she hath been kindly cared for." " And the lad ? " said the prisoner, still more faintly. " He is well," said the old man ; and the prisoner shook his head in silence, the tears running down his cheeks through closed eyelids. At this point the doctor re-entered, apprehensive for the safety of his patient, and ordered the old man NOW AND THEN. 95 at once to withdraw, 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 offered a glass of wine, which had been very kindly placed in readiness for him : — '' No, no, I thank thee. Sir," said the old man, somewhat excitedly; "1 need it not; I have just gotten a great cordial that hath waimed my heart !" " Ay, ay ! who gave it thee ?" quickly inquired the governor. " My son, thy prisoner I 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 pressing the old man to take the wine, before again facing the bitter cold air, he was presently ushered out of the guarded and 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 of the gaol. " Adam, it is not his mere saymgi\i2it he is innocent, that will satisfy the Judge and the jury at the coming- Assizes," said Mr. Hylton very 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 96 NOW AND THEN. he fled as for his life ? how he got the blood upon his coat and his stick ? Adam, Adam, these are terrible things to deal with ; and" — he paused and seemed troubled — " there may be, for ought you or I know, other matters proved still blacker." Old Ayliffe listened to all this in silence, but his face 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 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 misrht 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 will be a just many 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 communication 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 NOW AND THEN. 97 gave a dismal complexion to the present overwhelming case against him. Some short time after the first appearance at church. Lady Emily called upon Mrs. Hylton. whom she had always tenderly loved from her childhood, and was tenderly beloved in her turn. It was a painful inter- view, and both of them wept much. The poor girl's feelings had long been strung to the highest pitch of intensity, scarce ever relieved by communion 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 gloom and desolation, which, to him, formed indeed a darkness that might be felt. Beside all this, she was almost constantly an attendant on the 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 apprehen- sion, lest his infant grandson, now an object precious in his eyes beyond all comparison or expression, 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 re- H 98 NOW AND THEN. cognising in the disaster which had befallen her family, the ordination of the all-wise disposer of events, with- out a murmur, without a question ! " Thus you spoke to me, Mrs. Hylton, when my poor mamma was taken from us: thus she herself spoke to us a short time before she died ! I wish my dear papa saw these things so ; but he is always so stern 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 pur- poses to us." While they were thus talking Mr. Hylton rode up to the door, and, seeing the Earl's carriage there, looked at the window, and, recognising Lady Emily, hastily uncovered and dismounted, leading his horse round to the stable. " Why do you change colour, dear Mrs. Hylton?" said Lady Emily with surprise, 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 an 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 has- JfOW AND THEN. 99 tily, " stay — remember poor Lady Alkmond, whom I am with all day — and the dear child ! If anything were to happen to it, I do believe my papa would die outright ! for he almost trembles when he takes it into his arms for a moment !" '' Oh no ! dear Lady Emily, there is no fever there at all, I believe. Mr. Hylton has been to see one of the most unfortunate 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 colour ; '' of that wretched man who " — Lady Emily turned deadly pale, and trembled violently. Vain were her strong efforts to recover from the shock, and she at length swooned, to the great consternation of Mrs. Hylton. With the aid of the usual restora- tives, however, she soon recovered ; on which she gazed on Mrs. Hylton with a look of agonizing affection and apprehension. She lay in Mrs. Hylton 's arms, with her raven tresses slightly disturbed, and straying over her pale but ex- quisitely beautiful features, Mrs. Hylton gently re- arranging her truant locks, and fondly kissing her forehead as Mr. Hylton entered : and Mrs. Hylton motioned him to withdraw. — "No, no, no!" said Lady Emily, extending her hand to him, " I am better now!" h2 100 NOW AND THEN. *' What is all this ?" inquired Mr. Hylton^ sufficiently surprised. " I rather suddenly told dear Lady Emily where you had been." " I am sorry for that, Mary," said he, rather dis- pleasedly ; and he tenderly shook Lady Emily by the hand, and took his seat beside her. *' How is the poor creature ?" she inquired 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 very sad state," said Mr. Hyl- ton. *' Is there any danger ?" she inquired, slightly trem- bling. " My dear Lady Emily, you have suffering enough at the Castle ; I cannot add to what so oppresses you." "But how is this poor woman?" she repeated firmly; and Mr. Hylton's acute eye detected a mo- mentary 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 NOW AND THEN. 101 sudden energy, " she was one of the best, meekest, most self-denying Christian creatures that I ever saw ! " Again Lady Emily was silent. "She must not want for anything, dear Mr. H3dton," said she sud- denl}^ *' She is well cared for at our excellent Infirmary ; and as for her unfortunate child " — " What ! child !— has she a child ?" said Lady Emily, bursting into tears. "Ay; but such a poor, little, lame, injured crea- ture !" Lady Emily wept bitterly. " May God protect it !'' said she at length : " Where is it ?" " It is taken care of by a woman at one of the cot- tages." '' How old is it ?" " About two years old." " Just the same age !" exclaimed Lady Emily, half unconsciously, and apparently falling into a momentary reverie. *' You said it was lame and injured ; how came it to be so, dear Mr. 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 de- formed in the back," said Mrs. Hylton. " How dreadful !" exclaimed Lady Emily, with a 102 NOW AND THEN. shudder : " Are you sure that the poor little thing is with a careful woman ?" " Yes." " But who pays her to attend to it ?" " My husband/' quickly replied Mrs. Hylton ; 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 Mrs. 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 mothe'r 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 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 NOW AND THEN. 103 undutiful in mc. Will you, now, promise me this ?" continued Lady Emily, winningly, but very earnestly. " I will— we both will," replied Mr. Hylton ; " and you have in part anticipated something of what I in- tended to ask you. Lady Emily." " What is that ?" she inquired, anxiously. "After what you have said, it seems hardly neces- sary ; but I was about to have entreated you on no account to mention any of these poor beings 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 T she paused — and looked anxiously at Mr. and Mrs. Hylton, who assured her that they perfectly understood her mean- ing, and profoundly sympathized 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 car- riage, in which sat one of her maids, wondering at her Ladyship's prolonged stay at the parsonage. And as the carriage drove rapidly away, " There goes an angel in human form!" said Mr. and Mrs. Hylton to each other. Ah! what a contrast did the youthful Lady Emily present before the eye of Mr. Hylton, to 104 NOW AND THEN. her inaccessible and implacable parent ! for such, alas I he but too plainly appeared to Mr. Hylton, on the very first occasion on which the Earl and he had said any- thing to each other at all bearing on the recent cala- mity. Three times had the Earl's carriage appeared before the parsonage, since the funeral, to convey Mr. Hylton, on a friendly invitation, to the Castle, to dine with its taciturn and gloomy lord and Lady Emily ; and when she had withdrawn to Lady Alk- mond's chamber, Mr. Hylton felt oppressed by wit- nessing in his companion a misery incapable of relief. He was a man of superior intellect, thoroughly well educated, acquainted with the world, and possessing a penetrating knowledge of human nature. He had long before thoroughly mastered the Earl's idiosyncracy, and perceived and lamented his utterly insufficient notions of religion. A thousand times had he striven with all the delicacy and tact of which he was master, to turn the Earl's attention inward upon himself, but in vain : feeling himself ever courteously, though sometimes somewhat sternly, repulsed. Some 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 Lady Emily's de- parture, as usual, after dinner, the Earl produced a sheet of paper, containing a Latin inscription, which he NOW AND THEN. 105 had been framing during the day, for a tablet which he meditated erecting in memory of his son. The lan- guage was quite unexceptionable ; the Earl being noted for his elegant scholarship. Mr. Hylton read it very attentively twice or thrice, and then laid it down before the Earl. " Has it your approbation, Mr. Hylton ?" said the Earl. " The Latinity, my Lord, is, as I expected, fault- less," replied Mr. Hylton, with a certain significance of manner which arrested the attention of his noble com- panion, who remained silent for a few moments, while he cast his eye over the paper. " I presume the matter, Mr. Hylton, is unobjection- able as the manner ? — I composed it in a sad spirit, I assure you." Mr. Hylton remained silent, apparently absorbed in thought. " Pray, tell me frankly, Mr. Hylton," said the Earl, with slight displeasure in his tone, " are you now thinking painfully about what you have just read ?" " My Lord," replied Mr. Hylton solemnly, " I have been thinking how this inscription would appear before the eyes of Him whose minister and servant I am !" "Indeed, Sir," said the Earl haughtily; "would it not bear the scrutiny ?" " I fear not, my Lord, if I have read the New Testa- 106 NOW AND THEN. ment rightly. 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, I need hardly say, with all respect and faithfulness." "I will consider of it, Sir," said the Earl^ gloomily, endeavouring to rejoress a sigh, as he returned the paper to his pocket-book. " There is no living being, my Lord, I verily believe," said Mr. Hylton, earnestly, ''who wishes better to your Lordship than do I, 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 concerning it ; chiefly upon one expression ?" *' I think. Sir, I know now what you allude to ;" said the Earl, with a lowering brow and a stately courtesy of manner ; '' I have considered the subject, and deem the expression unobjectionable : if I consider it neces- sary 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 discuss this matter no further," said the Earl coldly. . ''Be it so, my Lord," replied Mr. Hylton sadly; NOW AND THEN. 107 and after a brief interval of chilling silence they sepa- rated ; 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 treat- ment of the Earl to be insupportable ; but he knew himself to be invested with a holier character, to be engaged on a mission of which as yet scarcely anything had been accomplished. With what different feelings he quitted the little cottage of old AylifFe, where he was a very frequent visitor ; on every occasion conceiving a more and more exalted opinion of him^ standing alone in his misery, unbefriended but by Heaven. He was kept from the workhouse, a destination of which he had all a true Englishman's horror, solely by the kindness of a few neighbouring farmers, and Mr. Hylton ; all of whom contrived to find him some sort of employment for a portion of each day, such as supplied his slight wants, and left him time for frequent inquiries after each of the scattered members of his family— his infant grandson, his dying daughter-in-law, his death-doomed son. On one or other of these sad errands he was to be seen 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 account of the peril of his 108 NOW AND THEN. son, suddenly charged as that son was with so tremendous a crime, and looked on with horror by the whole king- dom, as too truly was reported to the old man: a son who had passed all his life, till that moment, in peace and virtue. Late at night might a curious passer-by have observed a faint light within old AyliiFe's solitary cottage, and on looking closely, seen him at one time poring over his old Bible, at another on his knees. And early in the cheerless mornings, and later in the more cheerless evenings than others were found stirring, might he have been seen standing silently in the churchyard beside the grave of his wife, with solemn thoughts and unutterable. *' Here," said he, " the wicked cease from troubling^ and the weary are at rest ! and in God's good time I may lay my bones beside thee, and we may moulder away together till the day when we rise again, and see the meaning of everything that hath befallen us here ! " In the meantime thicker and thicker darkness ga- thered around young Ayliffe as the dreaded Assize-time drew near. The active kindness of Mr. Hylton^ and of a few of the chief inhabitants of the village, had pro- vided him with professional assistance in preparing for his defence ; but as time wore on, it somehow or other got abroad that the prisoner's skilful and experienced attorney looked not cheerful about the business, though NOW AND THEN. 109 he knew his duty better than to say anything of a de- sponding character to any one but the prisoner. Him he told, and sickened in telling, that though he, the attorney, verily believed him to be innocent, he saw not, then at least, 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 interviews between Mr. Hylton and old Ay- liffe on the dismal subject of the approaching trial ; and more and more frequent they became as the time drew nearer. The miserable old man was wasted, so to speak, to a shadow, and but for the patient indul- gence of his agonized inquiries by Mr. Hylton, his overstrained and overburthened mind might have given way. Little, however, could Mr. Hylton conscien- tiously say to sustain hopes of a favourable issue ; dwelling, on the contrary, strongly upon the dreadful directness of the evidence which it was understood was ready to be brought forward. The old man gave im- plicit credit to his son's unwavering protestations not only of innocence, but total ignorance who the mur- derers were, or why the murder had been committed. " Why went he that night to the wood ? Why were his clothes stained with blood ? Why ran he from the wood as for his life ? " said Mr. Hylton : " these, as I have often told you, my poor friend, are questions 110 NOW AND THEN. which it is very terrible to hear aslced, and not satis- factorily answered." " Sir, I do assure you," replied AylifFe, " that he can show why he did all these things, and yet is inno- cent." " Can he ? Can he ? How ? »' inquired Mr. Hylton : " What witnesses has he ? " His companion pressed his hand against his fore- head : " Lord, have mercy on him, poor soul ! " said he ; " I misgive me that he hath not any ; but he may surely say as much when he is on trial, and God may put it in the hearts of those he pleads before to believe him ; for I will swear for him that never an untrue word did he ever, that I know of, speak in his life : and as for cruelty — why the heart of a woman hath he, 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 like to be an awful question, from what I have heard. 'Tis whispered that they can show malice on your son's part towards Lord Alkmond ; that he hath been heard to speak in that way" — While Mr. Hylton spol^e, a sickening change came over the features of the old man, and he almost groaned aloud. NOW AND THEN. Ill " What ! do you fear," said Mr. Hylton kindly, '' tliat any will 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 which it would be found that young Ayliffe had let fall when he was convicted for unlawfully having possession of the hare, but which Mr. H3dton did not communicate to old Ayliffe, the latter suddenly recollected, for the first time since his son's arrest, his sullen refusal, when requested by his father, to stay and salute the young Lord, as he passed the cottage on coming down from London, and the strong expressions of his son which accompanied that refusal. And with those expressions were quickly as- sociated certain others, which also old Ayliffe had till then forgotten, and which, thus combined and coupled with the suggestion thrown out by Mr. Hyl- ton, suddenly acquired a significance that was ap- palling. The old man staggered under the shock; and the doubts and fears which had vanished before his son's solemn asseveration of his innocence, when first his father saw him there, suddenly returned with tenfold force. Mr. Hylton saw that his misery had reached its climax ; for his long and fondly cherished confidence in his son's truth and innocence appeared suddenly shattered. He spoke with infinite kindness 112 NOW AND THEN. to him, and forced him to take a little refreshment. When he was somewhat revived, " Tell me, Adam," said Mr. Hylton, " if you choose, what is the explanation which your son is going to give of the circumstances in which he was found; you may do so with perfect safety, for on consideration I can see no impropriety in my hearing what his defence is likely to be." On this Ayliffe told Mr. Hylton what his son's statement was, and Mr. Hylton listened to it with deep attention. "That's the whole matter. Sir," said Ayliife, as he concluded ; adding eagerly, "and don't you believe it, Sir ? You would, if you knew my son as well as I do, Sir ! " " Let me consider a little, Adam, let me consider," said Mr. Hylton very 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 attor- ney ? " 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 NOW AND THEN. 113 it is a serious business, and a counsellor will decide on it, and it will clear my son, if it be believed ; but, Sir, I would rather know what you think on't ? " Mr. Hylton shook his head. " Why, Adam, the ac- count he gives is strange, very strange; it may be quite true, but much discretion, methinks, will be re- quired on the part of 3'our son's counsellors. I am glad, my friend, that your son has so shrewd and ex- perienced an attorney as has been engaged for him ; and for the rest, may God detect the guilty, and vin- dicate the innocent." " Amcn^ Sir/' said the old man ; and Mr. Hyl- ton having bade him adieu with great cordiality, he betook himself homeward, but with such direful mis- givings as kept him awake the whole night ; and Mr. Helton himself spent some hours in revolving what he had heard, but without being able to come to any satis- factory conclusion. His first impression, however, when he woke in the morning was, that poor young Ayliffe's doom was sealed. A few evenings before the commencement of the As- sizes, Mr. Hylton w^as at the Castle, whither he had been summoned to read the solemn 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 I 1.14 NOW AND THEN. referred to, th^ Earl, wlio had been during tlie 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 being 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 cliaracter is con- cerned." " I am, my Lord," replied Mr. Llylton with energy ; " most warm and willing testimony, most decisive testi- mony : would to God, my Lord, I could speak in the like terms and with the same justice of many others of my parishioners, as I shall speak on the dark day that draws near on behalf of these Ayliffes, old and young ; a more exemplary little family never knew I 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 him 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 man- ner, 'Hhat I can have no objection to your giving NOW AND THEN. 115 fiivourablc 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 Earb who appeared for some moments as if about to say something in reply ; but rather abruptly, and with a very gloomy courtesy, he wished Mr. Hylton good evening, and they parted. As the latter Avas 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 hastening towards him, and the rustling of a lady's dress. Nor was he mistaken : for Lady Emily, v/ith 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." " 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 ? " i2 116 NOW AND THEN. " Certainly not, my dear Lady Emily ; she cannot possibly have better nursing and medical attendance than she has now. I have myself given special instruc- tions on the subject." ''And," her voice faltered, "that wretched 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 ; and Lady Emily vanished as though she had been a spirit. NOW AND THEN. 117 CHAPTER HI. 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 capital cases, with the humane view of giving, in the event of conviction, as long an interval as possible for carrying into effect the dreadful sen- tence of the law. There were two other capital cases fixed for the same day, 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 oifenders being found with the stolen property upon them. Ihese were simple cases, and could be quickly disposed of. But the great murder trial seemed to have attracted nearly half the county into the Assize- town, besides many persons of quality from very distant parts of the country. The case was to be tried before the Lord Chief Justice, who was a very humane man, and a great lawyer; and the Solicitor- General had come down, on the part of the Crown, to conduct a case 118 NOW AND THEN. of such public interest and importance. The town wa& astir from four o'clock in the morning; since which time, a great number of country-folk, who had walked five, ten, and even fifteen miles, had been standing outside the gaol till the doors were opened. There were upwards of a thousand people, collected round those doors, 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 before, by favour of the Sheriff. At a few minutes before nine o'clock, the Judge was to be seen, sitting in his 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 morniiig. The Judge took his seat while the clock was striking nine. VOn sit- ting down he seemed for a moment to be adjusting his robes ; but he was also secretly disposing his hlach cap^ so as to have it in readiness against a sad event which, having read what had been deposed to before the Co- roner'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, NOW AND THEN. 119 he looked around him, with great 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), v/hom he knew well, but then took no notice of whatever. The seats round and beneath him were densely crowded by counsel: among whom, facing the jury-box, was Mr. Solicitor- General, who had a grave care-worn face ; . and a little to his right was the counsellor engaged on behalf of the prisoner, but only to cross-examine the witnesses, or (if he could) detect an objection to the proceedings in point of law : not being permitted to say one word for his client, to the jury. Next to him sat his attorney; and both of them looked very anxious. Beside the attorney who conducted the case for the Crown, sat the Earl's solicitor, and Mr. Oxley. In the magistrates' box sate Mr. Hylton, looking pale and harassed. Just be- fore taking his seat, he had quitted poor old Ayliffe ; whom, with infinite effort, he had at length prevailed upon to remain out of Court, in a room close by, with every comfort provided for him by the High Sheriff. From the moment that Mr. Hylton sat down, he seemed buried in his OAvn 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 120 NOW AND THEN. 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 walk- ing not without difficulty in his heavy irons, a tall marvellously well-proportioned man, apparently about thirty years old, with a countenance that, especially irradiated just then by a transient gleam of sunshine, said instantly to all present — that it could never be that of a MURDERER. All were struck by it. 'T was a frank manly face, of a dauntless English cast, yet looked somewhat emaciated 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 up at the bar, with an air of manly and somewhat indignant confi- dence; having bowed respectfully to the Judge, who was watching him with searching scrutiny. Ayliffe's pale face had reddened a little, as he first encoun- tered so exciting a scene, on an occasion to him so unspeakably awful and momentous. His light blue eyes spoke eloquently in his favour, being full of intel- ligence and spirit, and indicative of goodness; but NOW AND THEN. 121 there was much of suffering in them. As the Judge gazed at him, this favourable impression was deepen- ing, but was effaced, in a moment, by habitual cau- tion, and a recollection of what he had read concerning the case, in the depositions. •" Adam Ayliffe," said the Clerk of the Peace, " hold up thy hand." The prisoner obeyed ; holding up his right hand, which was observed to quiver a little. "Thou standest indicted by the name of Adam Ay- liffe, late of the Parish of Milverstoke, in this County, labourfu', 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 Decem- ber last, in the Parish of Milverstolce, in this Count}^ in and upon one FitzStephen Geoffry Lionel Bevylle, Esquire, commonly called Viscount Alkmond, in the peace of God and of our Lord ihe King then and there being, feloniously, wilfully, and of thy malice 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 afore- thought, with the bludgeon aforesaid, didst give him a mortal wound, whereof he then and there instantly died. How sayest thou, Adam Ayliffe, art thou 122 NOW AND THEN. guilty of the murder and felony with which thou standest indicted, or not guilty ?" " Not guilty ! Not guilty ! " said the prisoner quickly^ and with great energy, and his chest heaved. " How wilt thou be tried? " "By God and my country," replied the prisoner, prompted by two of the turnkeys near him. " God send thee a good deliverance ! " quoth the officer. " Let the prisoner's irons be removed," said the Judge, after having spoken privately to the Sheriff, who 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 the officer of the Court thus addressed him : — " Prisoner at the bar ; those good men whose names thou wilt now hear called over, are the Jury, who are to pass between our Soveriegn Lord the King and thee upon thy trial. If, therefore, thou wouldst chal- lenge 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 he heard." The prisoner listened to this brief but significant address so intently, as to be apparently unaware of NOW AND THEN. 123 the act by which he was being liberated from his irons. Every juryman was then thus publicly and sepa- rately sworn : — " Thou shalt well and truly try, and true deliverance make between our Sovereign Lord the King, and the prisoner at the bar, whom thou shalt have in charge ; and a true verdict give, accord- ing to the evidence. So help thee God !" When the twelve had been counted aloud, one by one, and their names called over, the crier thus made proclamation : " If any one can inform my Lords the King's Justice-, 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 treason, murders, felonies, or misdemea- nours 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 bounds by their recognizance, to prosecute or give evidence against the prisoner at the bar, come forth, and give their evidence, or they will forfeit their recognizances." After a moment's pause, the officer of the Court said to the prisoner, "Adam Ayliffe, hold up thy hand." When this had been done, the officer thus addressed the jury, " Gentlemen of the Jury, look upon the prisoner, and hearken to his charge." 124 NOW AND THEN. 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 was rising to state the case to the jury, when he turned to the Judge, and whis- pered ; on which, " Prisoner," said the Judge, with a kind and dignified 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 ; and the next moment Mr. Solicitor- General had commenced his speech to the jury ; speaking with a directness and cogency that were utterly sickening to all who felt any interest in him whose life depended on the proof, or disproof, of what was stated in that 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) had been committed, was beyond all dou)3t whatever ; and the only question that day to be tried, was, whether the prisoner had done that murder. NOW AND THEN. 125 He is found," continued Mr. Solicitor, " 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 stick with him; and while panting and affi-ighted, is arrested. This, of itself, surely is the very case put by my Lord Coke, as that of a most violent pre- sumption of guilt ; and his words are these : ' It is ' if one be run through the body with a sword in a ' house, whereof he instantly 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 doing the deed, and yet quite unconcerned 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 afore- 126 NOW AND THEN. thonght 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 pur- chaser of some cottage property of his father's ; but more especially because of a poaching affair, which had occurred only some week or so previously to the mur- der : 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 expressions which I shall leave to a witness to tell you ; and which will, I fear, be thought by you to hd,ve a serious bearing on this case. These, gentlemen, are the facts whicl^ 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 the prisoner a counsel in the Judge that tries him, and NOW AND THEN. 127 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 being 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, 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, hearing running footsteps, followed in their direction till they caught sight of the prisoner ; fired after him ineffectually; and finally succeeded in ar- resting him as has been described. His Lordship was in dinner, or evening dress; but had put on a dark great-coat before quitting the Castle; and nothing about his person had been taken away, oi disturbed. The doctor who had been called in, described the blow which Lord Alkmond had been struck, to have been most tremendous, and death to have followed 128 NOW AND THEN. almost instantly; that it had been given by some heavy blunt instrument from behind ; and then was produced the stick which was proved to have been taken from the prisonerjs 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 re- strained by his advisers beneath.) The doctor said that such an instrument was quite sufficient to occa- sion the blow which Lord Alkmond had received; and from which he had died. " 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 the 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, in the minds of the jury. Then was called Mr. Oxley — and the prisoner NOW AND THEN. 129 changed colour on hearing the name. This proved to be, indeed, a terrible witness : for speaking in a mild and somewhat prepossessing waj^, and with a show of reluctance, he yet mentioned expressions used by the prisoner, which, in the judgment of everybody 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 purchase the remainder, but at a price infinitely 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 I" The prisoner, on hearing this, gave a prodigious start. " Was any one present when this was said ?" inter- posed the Judge. " No, my Lord ; we were alone," said the witness. " Never said I such words — no, nor any like them — nor ever thought them," said the prisoner, vehemently. Mr. Oxley looked sadly towards the jury, and shook his head. Then he spoke of the conviction for poaching — of which, as then concerned the prisoner, the witness made a far blacker business than the K 130 NOW AND THEN. other. • lie said that the prisoner^ observing Mr. Oxley to be present, and 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 hare^ With this answer sat down, very gravely, the coun- sel 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 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 last to the counsellor, 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 some 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 the words were not — ' he shall rue it, that brought me here P Tell him that this is written by one who was there 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 the prisoner's looks. I thought of them NOW AND THEN. lol often afterwards, before this murder was committed ; but never dreamed of anything so bloody as this coming of it, or would have had him bound in sureties of the peace, I warrant 3'ou." " And will you say this, when those are present who were then there ?" " Yes, I will ; whether they heard it or not, 1 cannot tell; but I did. If they heard differently, let them say so." Mr. Oxley happened to know that Sir Henry Har- rington, the magistrate who had convicted poor Ayliffe, was 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, in- deed, been assured, what sort of person the witness was, and how disposed towards the prisoner ; so he sat down, and Mr. Solicitor-General asked no questions. " But," said the Judge, in a calm and scrutinizing way, " Mr. Oxle}^, 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 you have spoken of" k2 132 NOW AND THEN. Mr- Oxley immediately did so, with the variation of only an immaterial word or two. " Do you positively swear, Sir, that his words be- fore the magistrate were not — ' He shall rue it, that brought me here V " "I do, my Lord. His words were — 'they that own that hare.' " " Is not the sound of the one, very like that of the other?" " Not, my Lord, 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 anything pass between him and the pri- soner ?" " 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?" NOW AND THEN. 133 " No, my Lord." " Is Jonas Hundlc still in that part of the country?" "Yes, my Lord; I saw him last week, hedging and ditching." " How came you to be then at the magistrate's, 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 ao-rce with the Earl of Milverstoke about selling their cottage." " Did he accept the offer ?" "No, my Lord; but used some horrid words con- cerning the Earl, which I recollect not exactly." "Have you and the prisoner ever had any dis- putes?" "No, my Lord; 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 knew never of anything 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. 134 NOW AND THEN. 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. Solicitor- General was rising to say something. " Which was the taller and larger man. Lord Alkmond, or Jonas Hundle?" "Oh, my Lord, his Lordship was very tall and slight; and Jonas Hundle is stout and short." " Call back the keeper," said the Judge ; and on that witness re-appearing — "Have you ever seen Hundle in the woods at Milverstoke?" " I cannot recollect, my Lord ; I know but little of him." " Now attend particularly to the question which I am about to ask you. Are you quite certain that when you heard the two sounds you have spoken of, just before you came up to the body of Lord Alk- NOW AND THEN. 135 mond, 3'ou heard no footsteps — I meaiij no sound of footsteps ill any direction, before 3'ou had come up with his Lordship's body ?" " None, my Lord." " None after you had discovered the body?" " Only thos9 of the prisoner, my Lord, whom my men followed." " There were no sounds as of running in any other direction ?" "No, my Lord— none." " Were you not so greatly disturbed at seeing Lord Alkmond's body, that you might have heard, but without noticing, footsteps in another direction ?" " My Lord, I am assured that I did not ; I have often since thought of it."" The other two keepers were 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 consultation, amidst the breathless silence of the court — being, up even to that critical moment, in direful perplexity whether or not to hand in to the officer of the Court, the account which the attorney had drawn up in writing from the prisoner's lips, of 136 NOW AND THEN. the affair, as he protested, without ever varying, that it had ha])pencd. Just as they had determined in the negative, but with a dreadful sense of responsibility, behold ! their prisoner, 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 have done wrong, and meant to do wrong, but no mur- der ; and I do not wonder why I am now here, for truly appearances be against me terribly. Yet of this murder which has been done, am I every whit as innocent as any of you, or his Lordship there ; nor know I who did it, nor why. But I was ia the wood at the tinie 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 greatly ; 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 beside us, that came as witness against me before the magistrate; those two being, doubtless to have between them what I might have to pay. I cannot but say I knew I had gone against the NOW AND THEN. 137 law therein, and nought like it had ever I done 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 intended. But to say I killed Lord Alkmond, is quite contrary to God's truth. I, hearing footsteps at some distance, and thinking only of Handle, crept onward; and some time after, they getting fainter, I went on faster, and"— a visible tremor came over him—" right across a path lay a body, and I thought the arm moved a little. The fright I then felt, none of you may 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 L ' they will say that this I did— having come out after hares again,' as I misgave me it would be said ; and though at first I was minded to shout for help, I feared, for appearance's sake ; and knowing that 1 did it not, and hearing steps coming nearer, and then voices speaking, as hath been told you to-day, I ran quicker, and was followed, and fired at, as though I had been a wild beast : and here am I this day to answer before you for a murder I never committed, nor dreamt of. Never passed word good, or word ill, 138 NOW AND THEN. between tlie poor young Lord and me, in our lives ; nor, as God doth know, had I malice against him. Now, gentlemen, I hope you believe all this; and may God put it into your hearts to do so, for it is nothing but the truth ; and there is one, I think, could say " — he paused, his eyes filled with tears, and he seemed choked. After a Avhiie he resumed — " I mean, my old father ; were he here — truly glad I am that he is not — that he hath never known false- hood 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, that Mr. 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 hath here been said by Mr. Oxley ; but I will own I did say then to myself, as I had thought, that it should go hard with them that had brought me where I was, by the cruel means of trapping me with that hare ; and those other words I never said at all, nor any like them, that I can re- member, at any time." At this moment the prisoner suddenly fell heavily on the floor, overcome with exhaustion both of mind NOW AND THEN. 139 and body (which was much weakened by iUncss), ren- dering him for a short time insensible. This greatly startled and moved all present. After a while, he was assisted from court, and given wine and water; and on a message from the Judge being sent to know if he were able and ready to come back, he returned, looking very ill^ leaning between two gaolers, and sat down on the bench, which had been placed for him in the dock, by order of the Judge. Then were called witnesses to speak to his good character, be- ginning Avith Mr. Hylton, whose words, and hearty emphatic manner of uttering them, and his high cha- racter, evidently produced a great impression in the prisoner's favour. For no mortal man could more have been said, than he said, as clergyman and magis- trate, for Ayliffe : who sobbed violently while Mr. Hylton spoke. Then the Chief Justice turned towards the jury, and all they with anxious faces to him. In a twinkling no earthly sound was audible, but his clear, distinct voice, which thus began : — " Gentlemen of the J ury : — There be many cases in which we are forced to some judgment or other, on the question of true, or false ; though lamenting, with just cause, that we have but scanty means for forming such judgment. But in this world it ever must be so. 140 NOW AND THEN. judging, as we must, with imperfect faculties, and concerning matters the knowledge whereof, as (ob- serve you !) constantly happens in crimes, is studiously impeded and concealed, by those that have done such crimes. Seeing, then, that our judgment may be wrong, and, as in this case, may be followed by consequences that 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 ; we must very solemnly and carefully do our uttermost, as though our own lives were at stake ; and, devoutly asking God's assistance in doing so, leave the result with His mercy, wisdom, and justice. Now, gentle- men, in this case, fdrget, for a very little while, that life depends on the judgment which you must pro- nounce ; but only by-and-bye to remember it the more distinctly and religiously. Did this man at the bar slay the late Lord Alkmond ? is your first question ; and the only other is — Did he do it with malice afore- thought ? 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 who did, why, there ends the matter, and he is Not Guilty. But did he ? No one but Almighty God above, and the prisoner NOW AND THEN. 141 himself, can — as far as we seem able this day to see — absolutely know whether the prisoner did, as though you had yourselves 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, next door to it; and so is it, observe you well, if facts be proved before you, which, be they few or many, point only one way, unless 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 murder is past dispute, the wound proved not being of such a nature that it could possibly have been inflicted by Lord Alkmond him- self. 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 ; and yet sa^^s, that he knows nothing whatever of it, though he ran away ; and bloody ; and with a bloody stick, such as, it is sworn before you, might have done it. If these be really facts, are they not such as point one way only, according to the expression of my Lord Coke, which was read rightly to you by Mr. Solicitor? There is, as you see, no suggestion this day concerning any other who might have done the deed. But the pri- 142 NOW AND THEN. soner himself does admit that he went 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 dangerous 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 felonious assault, than he had in- tended when he began it. Now, gentlemen, is it pos- sible, according to the best of your judgment upon these facts, that the prisoner unhappily lit suddenly upon Lord Alkmond, and in the darkness, and the haste of his angered temper, mistook him for the man for whom he was lying in wait, and slew 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 person guilty of the murder of Lord Alkmond, beyond all possible doubt; and your verdict must be Guilty, founded on facts proved, and his own admis- sions. That, I tell you, 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 ^•OW AND THEN. 143 beneath him, to remain silent, while this frightful pos- sibility 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, look you, due regard to what is otherwise proved against him. But have you, gentlemen, in your souls, and on your consciences, so much uncertainty on the matter, that you cannot bring 3^ourselves 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 144 NOW AND THEN. 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 Mil verstoke's local agent, and seemingly a reputable person, why, con- sider 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 ihing, think nothing whatever of the interest with which this trial may have been looked forward to outside or be lis- tened 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. Con- sider the case, then, gentlemen, under the pressure and sanction of your oaths, according to proved facts, and plain probabilities, such as would guide you in important affairs of your own. Say — Did Lord Alk- NOW AND THEN. 145 mond kill himself? Arc you totally in the dark? Can you form no reasonable opinion on the matter? Did Lord Alkmond and the prisoner contend together, so as to make the killing manslaughter ? Of this there is no pretence whatever now before you. Then did the prisoner strike the fatal blow, whether knowing the person to be Lord Alkmond, or mistaking him for some one else whom he intended to kill or maim ? In cither of these two cases you must say — Guilty. But if you think the prisoner neither struck the blow, nor counselled nor assisted those who did — knowing no- thing, indeed (as he hath alleged), about the matter, and that what he has said before you this day is the pure truth, then say you that he is Not Guilty. And now, gentlemen, consider the verdict which you shall pronounce." On this a bailiff was thus sworn publicly, — " You do swear, that you will keep this jury without meat, drink, fire, or candle, in some quiet and conve- nient 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 following the bailiff to their jjrivate room, passed on 14G NOW AND THEN. 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, whom Mr. Hylton found staring towards the door, with mute terror, as he entered. " I bring no news yet — 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, al- most trembling at the bare thought of a sudden knock at the door announcing the return of the jury while he was absent with the prisoner's father, on whom a sud- den shock might have fatal effects. On his return to Court he found the Judge sitting with a very solemn countenance, having spoken to no one since the jury had retired, except to utter a stern " No " to some counsel, who, after the jury had been absent some time, got up and asked his Lordship if he would go on at once with the other two capital cases, "which would not occupy long ! " Thus lightly was spoken. NOW AND THEN. 147 and thought of, in those thncs, a capital conviction for trivial and uninteresting offences. Mr. Hylton permitted another to occupy his seat, he standing: near the door in a state of sickenin<)^ anxiety, in order that, whatever should be the verdict, he might be able to enter with a little preparation and calmness the room where the old man was, at the door of which he had a servant stationed, to prevent any sudden noise or, knocking. At length the low general whispering which had been going on in 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 that did not then change colour; few hearts that did not throb thickly and fast. "Put the prisoner to the bar," said the officer of the Court ; and, before the first juryman had returned, 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, — l2 148 NOW AND THEN. " Adam AyliiFe/' said the officer, " hold up thy hand ! " The prisoner did so, and a very awful silence en- sued, while the officer proceeded to say *o the jury, " 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 — and those who were watching the prisoner, observed the colour fly rapidly from his face, like breath from a glass, leaving him of a corpse-like colour. But he stood firmly — his lips appeared to move, and he spoke ', no one, however, hearing him but those next to him, who. said 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 officer, (as soon as the verdict had been pro- nounced,) writing the fatal " Guilty " on the indict- ment. " Ye say that 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, in a low tone. NOW AND THEN. 149 gazing very solemnly at the prisoner, while the officer thus called on him to hear judgment. " Adam AylifFe^ hold up thy hand. Thou hast been indicted of felony and murder : thou wast thereupon arraigned, 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 the Court should not give thee judgment upon that conviction, 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 sufficiency of the indictment, so as to arrest the judgment ; but the prisoner's counsel spoke not, nor moved. Then the Judge drew from beneath his desk a black velvet cap, and placed it 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! O yez ! O yez ! My Lords the King's Justices do strictly charge and command all manner of persons to keep silence, whilst sentence of death is pass- ing against the prisoner at the bar, upon pain of im- prisonment !" The prisoner stood staring at the Judge, with ashy cheek and glazed eye, while the following words were I 50 NOW AND THEN. being uttered, the import of which was, perhaps, at that fearful moment, only imperfectly apprehended by him to whom they were addressed, with a calmness and deliberation that were utterly 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 happi- ness, 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, whose present manifest agi- tation 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 this without venturing to speak, even, of recommend- ing 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 enor- mous 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 con- soled, in its anxiety, by reflecting on the overpowerino- NOW AND TTIEX. 151 strcnivtli of the evidence which has been brouirht be- es C5 fore it. Get you, unhappy, misg-uided man, victim of your own guilty and headlong passions ! to your knees without one moment's delay, to prepare, after quitting this earthly, for your speedy appearance before a heavenl}^ tribunal. I will not waste your 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 Redeemer, who ever liveth to make intercession for you, 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 sentence of the law : which sentence is, that you, Adam Ayliffe, be taken back to the place whence you came ; and thence, on 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 anatomized. — And the Lord have mercy on your soul !" " Amen !" solemnly cried the Chaplain, who, on the jury's pronouncing their verdict, had silently come, in his full canonicals, a little behind the Judge's seat, and 152 NOW AND THEN. stood there only long enough to pronounce that wore', and then withdrew. The wretched prisoner moved not, nor spoke, when tlie Judge had concluded ; and, apparently mechani- cally, 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, if pos- sible, a more awful occasion, with what decorum and firmness he might. As soon as Mr. Hylton had heard the death-doom- iilg word uttered by the foreman of the jury, he in- stantly withdrew ; and breathing a hurried inward prayer on behalf of the prisoner, and his afflicted father, very gently opened the door, 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 knowing how to break the blighting intelligence. " Adam, my friend, how are you ?" said he, very gently taking one of the old man's hands, and grasp- NOW AND THEN. 153 ing it within his own. AylifFe looked slowly and fear- fully in Mr. Hyltons 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 in- clined towards the ground. " God, in whom you have trusted, my dear troubled friend, support you in this hour of darkness !" said Mr. Hylton. a Pi-ay !— help — help me to pray !" gasped the old man faintly; 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 ihy 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. After a moment's pause, he silently retired, having recognised the benevolent features of Mr. Hylton, whose face had much struck him as he spoke on be- half of the prisoner. The Chief Justice had been aware of the prisoner's father having been in attendance 154 NOW AND THEN. all day in some adjoining room, and saw at a glance how the matter was. On entering his own room, the Judge was so much affected with what he had thus accidentally witnessed, that he did not resume his seat on the bench, 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. — Thank you, Sir, for all your good- ness to a poor heart-blighted old man ! " he whispered, slowly rising from his knees, with Mr. Hylton's assist- ance, and sitting down : and then, his hand trembling, he drank the glass of wine which had stood beside him untouched, ever since he had first entered the room. " I — dare — not — ask" — he stammered; " all is over with 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, lament- ably. "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. NOW AND THEN. 155 " He hath not to live beyond Monday morning?" said he, 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. " What 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 man- kind !" " Oh, my son ! my son ! — let me go to my son while yet he lives ! " said Ayliffe, mournfully, and taking his stick and hat, essayed to move towards the door. " Stay here, Ayliffe, while I go and see whether, by the rules of this place, you may be admitted to see him — that is, so soon after what has happened. Con- sider, too, what he has had to go through this day, and that his health has besides been somewhat shat- tered of late — as well it might be." Having received a promise from Ayliffe to remain in the room till his return, he withdrew, and, being a magistrate, found no difficulty in obtain- ing immediate access to the wretched convict, who had been removed from the bar of the Court to the con- demned cell ; through the open door of which, he saw, as he approached, three turnkeys fastening upon him 156 NOW AND THEX. heavy irons, the Chaplain standing in his robes beside him, and holding in his hand a glass of wine, 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 glass of wine 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 turn- key, and breathing heavily through his nostrils, his lips remaining spasmodically closed. Mr. Hylton here- upon entered, very pale. " Adam, my poor friend, God ba with you!" said he, taking the prisoner's hand. Ayliife suddenly rose from his seat, but sunk down, his irons being connected to a strong staple in the floor. *' I am stifled!" said he, groaning, and his breast heaving fearfully. " This is a grave ! " he added, looking with horror round the narrow cell in which he foi;.nd himself. " Open the door— I cannot breathe ! " " Adam, if you have not forgotten one who ever loved you," said Mr. Hylton, taking the wine from the Chaplain, and bringing it to Ayliffe's lips, " drink this wine from my hand." NOW AXD THEN. 157 But the prisoner turned aside, convulsively gaspinj^, " I choke ! I choke ! " At length, however, he greedily swallowed the wine ; 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 with- drew, as also did the turnkeys, closing the door behind them ; and then Mr. Hylton was alone with the con- demned. For some time his solemn admonitions were lost upon AylifFe ; whose first connected words were — " The curse of God be on them that have con- demned the innocent, for the guilty — ay, a curse ! " he added, almost gnashing his teeth. " Adam ! " said Mr, Hylton, solemnly, " you are too near the immediate presence of the judgment-seat cf the Eternal, to be indulging in these unholy thouo;hts." The condemned man glared at him wildly, evi- dently 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 158 NOW AND THEN. companion, who seemed terribly agitated, and about to weep. " Does not your heart yearn after the sight of that saintly father of yours?" continued Mr. Ilylton, 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, faltering with his own strong emotions ; "yield to His holy influences ! • From Him hath come all this that has happened to thee ! Oh ! let not Satan now steel thy heart, and close thine ears, that he may have thee presently his for ever I Shall not the Judge of all the earth do right ? Kneel down with me, my fellow- sinner, and let us humble ourselves before God, and beseech his forgiveness and support ! " The prisoner's tears flowed fast ; and, sobbing con- vulsively, he permitted Mr. Hylton to incline him gently on his knees. Mr. Hylton uttered a short, solemn, and fervent prayer, in which Ayliffe evidently 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 in ! Will you listen to me for a moment ? " NOW AND TUEN. 159 The convict sadl}^ bowed liis head, and grasped the hand of Mr. Hylton in silence. " Do you from your heart forgive all who you be- lieve may have injured 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 uttering these last pious words of you is. Within a few hours, Adam, how plainly may you see the justice, and merc}^, and wisdom of all that now appears the contrary ! Prepare ! — prepare, Adam, to meet your God ! Con- fess your sins, if you would have them forgiven ! Oh, how many have they been I How many things have you done during j^our 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 3'ou ! — reflect ! — consider ! — what have you not confessed this day in open Cour^, before your 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 told you to forgive! — but whom 160 NOW AND THENj you — oh, Adam ! — went, under a hellish impulse, secretly to he 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 con- demned 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 unworthy exertions, a way for you out of your troubles? Think, Adam, of the steps by which you have gone wrong, and done deliberate wickedness, and brought yourself directly Jiither ! I say not this, Adam, believe me, to chide and trouble you in so awful a moment as this ; but aiu 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," — here Mr. Hylton was greatly moved, — " 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 se- duce and delude you ! " AylifFe clasped his hands together, and gazing upr NOW AND THEN. 161 wards, said tremulously, " I do confess my many and grievous sins, Oh God ! and more now they seem, than ever seemed they before ! " " The world in which you still, for a little, live," continued Mr. Hylton, "is fading fast from before your eyes, Adam! It passeth away! It perisheth ! From you Avithin a few hours does it disappear, and is only somewhat more slowly vanishing from me, and from all living ! Hither were we sent for trial only, and but for a brief space I — 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 thrilling solemnity ; and, as he closed, 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 Ayliffe rose slowly, and resumed his seat. " Adam, let me ask you a great question — one that I will never 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 ? " M 162 NOW AND THEN, The condemned man calmly elevated his hands and his eyes towards heaven, and with awful solem- nity 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. 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 I am innocent of this murder ?" Ayliffe suddenly inquired, turning to Mr. Hylton a face that wore an awful expression — ^having no anger or sternness in it, but being, in a manned, radiant with truth from heaven, which seemed to Hghten into the mind of Mr. Hylton; who replied solemnly, '' As I live before God, Adam Ayliffe, I do 1" " I am ! I am ! and, now that you believe me, I feel a great change here," striking his breast gently, — ^' I feel free and light ; and that I may die in full piety, truths 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 Heaven, into so dismal a cell as this !" ^^It may! — it doth!— Yet" — he paused — "' God NOW AND THEN. 163 grant that, when I l^e left alone, all my evil thoughts and impiety do not return !" "No, they will not, if you be continual in your supplications, and strenuous in faith! But remember, Adam, remember ! — remember ! time is short ! Thrice only will the sun rise upon you !"' " I know it. Sir — I know it — and very awful 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. Hyllon very piteously. "Alas! I fear me — but, — what think 3^ou, Adam ? Do you wish her to stay in so sad a world after you ?" "The will of God be done! Is she — is my poor Sarah — is she gone ?" He shook in 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 at this bitter outbreak, and his eyes overflowed with tears. m2 164 NOW AND THEN. " Let lier not know of my death, if she live after- wards, till she may, with God's blessing, bear it. And the old man — my poor father! — where is he?" sud- denly inquired AylifFe. " He is now in the prison, and hath been there all the day long, and now, doubtless, is wondering why I return not to perform my promise, and bring him to see you. Can you now bear to see him, Adam, if I bring him?" He 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, Tias sought for succour from above ! He knows, poor soull the worst of what has happened, and I doubt not his coming may at first grieve, but directly after it will comfort thee." With this, Mr. Hylton quitted the cell, and pre- sently 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 condemned cell in which lay his miserable son. They were about to search the old man before he entered ; but the gover- nor having been appealed to, gave permission for him to be admitted into the cell after only a nominal NOW AND THEN. 165 search, provided Mr. Hylton or a magistrate would stay in the cell during the whole of the interview — an undertaking which Mr. Hylton gave with great reluc- tance, hoping 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 indul- gence allowed by the prison rules to the condemned had already been nearly exceeded when Mr. Hylton re-entered with the old man. Oh ! how 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 yet he was to die ! Nevei* had the father doubted of his son's innocence, from the moment of his 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 yjroduced a profound impression — one painful and intolerable ; for he himself, of course, as implicitly and absolutely believed that assertion, as he had pro- fessed that he did, to the prisoner. Fixed in such a belief, how awful appeared the insufficiency of all earthly modes of investigation, and administering justice, deliberate, impartial, unimpeachable even as had been that of the memorable day which 166 NOW AND THEN. was then closing. '' 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 the conse- quence of error !" NOW AND THEN. 107 CHAPTER IV. 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, corroborated, too, most powerfully by his own voluntary acknowledgment ! " But what," thought Mr. Hylton, as he slowly conducted his heart- broken companion from the gaol, to a small house where he had engaged a room for him for a day or two, that he might be near his son during the few hours left him of hfe, — ^* 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 1" Sitting down with old Ayliffe, as scon as they were alone in the room which had been provided for him, Mr. Hylton, endeavouring to speak in such a guarded and desponding manner as should kindle no hopes which might be disappointed, engaged him in unre- strained conversation concerning what had been stated 168 NOW AND THEN. in Court by Mr. Oxley, touching the alleged origin of both the Ayliffes' 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 when he heard, above all, of his outrageous allusion to the workhouse as the destined refuge 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 confounded, on remembering 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 ad- vanced, Mr. Hylton hurriedly took leave of his com- panion, promising, rather vaguely, to see him again as goon as possible. On his way to the inn where his horse was put up, he was not a little concerned to see a travelling- carriage and four roll rapidly by him ; and on inquiry found that it was that of the Lord Chief- Justice, who, having finished the Assize scarcely an KOW AND THEN. 169 hour before, was already on his way to London. Mr. Hylton rode round hy Sir Henry Harrington'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 pos- session ; and that expression was precisely the one which Mr. Hylton had written down in Court, and handed to the prisoner's counsel; and which had been peremptorily denied by Mr. Oxley. " Here, then," thought Mr. Hylton, as he urged on his horse rapidly homeward, " are two things — malice established in Oxley against the prisoner ; and a false, or at least an erroneous, account given by Oxley of the words which had been used by Ayliffe, as show- ing settled malice against Lord Milverstoke and his family. But, alas !" thought Mr. Hylton, as he re- volved the matter in his mind, " what do these two things really amount to ? Does the fatally conclusive proof on which Ayliffe had been condemned depend on Mr. Oxley? Suppose even all that he had said at the trial were struck out from the evidence :— would not the glaring facts proved and admitted by the prisoner, remain?" — and Mr. Hylton reflected on the 170 NOW AND THEN. fearful summing-up of the Judge, knowing not how to impugn any part of it. If this were indeed so, then must poor AylifFe be left to his fate, and the innocent (as Mr. Hylton believed him) die the shameful and horrid death of the murderer. Thoughts like these greatly depressed Mr. Hylton — • exhausted, moreover, as he was with the agitation and excitement of that dismal day, during which he had scarcely tasted any refreshment. 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 bye-road which led to them, he saw 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 he," said Mr. Hylton, sufficiently surprised, reining up. "Well, Sir, I am the third man that has been or- dered from the barracks within this two hours to your parsonage. Sir — with a letter to you. Sir, from Captain NOW AND THEN 171 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?" " No, Sir ; I know nothing of the matter : my orders were only to take this letter, and bring an immediate answer. Sir, if you were at home : and my two com- rades 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 forth- •with 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 sol- dier. After a hasty but handsome apology for trou- bling him — and especially for the liberty which had 172 NOW AND THEN. been taken, without orders, by the soldier, in stopping him on his return home — " It is known to us," said the elder of the two. Captain Lutteridge, " 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 very 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, the Judge did say so — and in so saying, ex- pressed that which I and others have often felt and talked about." " Well, Sir, little I know about it ; but, for aught I know, that 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 aflerwards at the ball, till it was suddenly broke up by the news of my Lord Alkmond's murder. Now, when we were all at dinner nought happened ; but some time after, when my Lord Milverstoke and many others had gone to the ball-room, Lord Alkmond and some few of us remained behind, principally KOW AND THEN. 173 officers; and a certain one present chanced to speak of a subject which several immediately talked upon ; but not Lord Alkmond, who seemed suddenly sad, and even troubled. I sat next to him, and I saw that he grew very much troubled indeed as the talk went on ; but why, 1 could neither know, nor guess. He sud- denly spoke to me of some matter altogether different — but 1 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, come with us.' ' By- and-bye I have a small matter to do,' said he, and so we parted, never again (as it proved) to meet alive. Now, this is all I know, Mr. Hylton, and it may signify little, and yet may mean a little; being a soldier, I 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 174 NOW AND THEN. answered; and as the Judge said, so Lieutenant Wylsden tells me, that it was strange that on such an occasion ray 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 sup- pose 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 seemed to startle Mr. Hylton out of a reverie into which he had fallen, while listening in silent amazement to Captain Lutteridge. " May I trouble you, reverend Sir," said the Captain, " 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. Methinks I must have seen him about, some time or other, in these parts." " What was that matter, Sir, on which you gen- tlemen were speaking, at which the Lord Alk- mond grew so troubled ? " inquired Mr. Hylton anxiously. " Why, look you. Sir ; is it necessary that I should NOW AND THEN. 175 say what passed at the table of my Lord Milverstoke ? For I was the guest of his Lordship ; and we cannot, I reckon, speak of anything there spoken of." " 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 ques- tion was likel}^ to be asked. Now it seemed to him to be directly contrary to good manners, and the rules of hospitality, that he should disclose anything that 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 such 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 meaning. What could the late Lord Alkmond, Sir, have had to do with this man who has been this day tried for murdering him ? Did 176 NOW AND THEN. he dine with us, 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 ! It may have every bearing ; the most vital, for what 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 thing might have on law matters." " Ay, I did then say so, but I never thought of the question which you would presently ask. Sir :" this Captain Lutteridge said 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, be it 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 believe 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 ? Who shall know better than they ? Besides, the Lieutenant here tells us that your very innocent man confessed the deed in NOW AND THEN. 177 open Court. Did he not?" turning to his brother officer. " Yes ; I say so. Captain ; he did." Mr. Uylton interposed, " No ! no ! no ! " " I say he did, Sir ! " quoth the Lieutenant sternly ; " or at least he did as good, or I had no ears or under- standing ; and so said also the Judge ; I marked it well"— " I assure you. Lieutenant" — commenced Mr. Hylton very earnestly. " Why, look you, Reverend Sir," interrupted the Lieutenant, " 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 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, appeal- ing 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 178 NOW AND THEN. fire in a very thoughtful manner. On being ap- pealed to — " Be quiet, Mr. Wylsden/' said he quickly and authoritatively to the fiery subaltern ; then turning to Mr. Hylton, he continued : — " Sir, I have been thinking of this, and it seems to me now 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 oflficers hastily withdrew, leaving Mr. Hylton in a state of no little excitement, impa- tience, and amazement. What extraordinary aspect was this 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 adjoining room, which was the ofiicers' mess-room. NOW AND THEN. 179 "I say, nay!" — "Tis monstrous!" — " 'Tis un- officer-like ! " — " Pity 'tis you named it. Captain ! " were expressions which he could not avoid hearing. Presently all the voices dropped to a lower key, and he heard nothing for some minutes but whispering ; and at length his impatience, 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 very courteously, " I have taken advice with several of my brother officers in there, and we all do think this a case of much diffi- culty and some danger, and that may perhaps, for all I meant well, bring some discredit on me in the nature of tattling or eaves-dropping, and that too on so sad and bloody a business. What 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. " 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 ! n2 180 NOW AND THEN. It is now near ten o'clock on Friday night, 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 Lutter- idge, 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 be ready to accompany 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, 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 on your own judgment, and let me quit for London imme- diately 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. 181 " Not intimately ; only as an hospitable nobleman, who entertained us all at a most princel}^ banquet." " But I know his temper and character well. Cap- tain; haughty, stern, inflexible; and as this matter, above all others — " " I care not," said Captain Lutteridge proudly, " for his haughtiness, if he were fifty Lord Milverstokes 1 I willsce 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 dis- turbed and grieved, and it may be angered. Lord Milvcrstoke, the matter that I may be permitted to tell, will signify little 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 Milver- stoke proved inexorable, of course Captain Lutteridge would take no further steps. Off galloped the Captain, and his man, at top speed, followed at a more mode- rate, but still a quick pace, by Mr. Hylton. If what had just taken place appeared strange, however un- 182 NOW AND THEN. satisfactory and tantalizing, there awaited him, pre- sently, 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 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. Hyl- ton had also gone, pursuant to a previous arrange- ment with him, to the Infirmary, which was at about five miles distance, to be present with the unfortunate wife of the man who was to be that day tried for his life. Some three hours after the parsonage 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 Mrs. 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 NOW AND THEN. 183 eye, and having opened it in consequence of the words " post-haste," guess the feelings with which she read as follows : — " Rector}^ Midgecombe, 28th March. " Dear Mr. Hylton, " In my husband's absence, on an expedition in which T 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 in which the bishop takes a great interest, and has invited my husband to officiate 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 place on the French coast, and relates to that horrid murder of poor Lord Alkmond, that is to be tried (I think my hus- band said) at the close of the Assizes for your county. I do not know 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'itisa 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 on some errand from the shore. 184 NOW AND THEN. 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. He says he looks forward to being in England very soon, after they leave Dunkirk, where the letter seems written from. As the man who is accused is unfortunately a parishioner of yours, and doubtless you may take an interest in the case, I thought it right 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 re- collects that there was a young fellow of that name near us some years ago, and thinks he went to sea. NOW AND THEN. 185 By the way, the letter says something about a note in the log-book." The letter almost fell from Mr. Hyl ton'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 prepara- tions for supper had been going on, and brought him a glass of wine, which he drank from her hands, almost mechanically. " If we 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." " No, my dear Mary, how can you suppose it ! This is a most extraordinary accident — if, indeed, there be 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 since, 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 to give her 186 NOW AND THEN. some sleeping medicine, and she has dozed all day long." " Mary !" said he, 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." " Why, the coach will be here in 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." Having hastily swallowed a little refreshment, he went out to borrow ten pounds from his church- warden, who lived near him (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 Sun- day duty, which gave him great anxiety, lest there should be no one to do it, owing to this hurried move- ment ; he carefully placed in his pocket-book the all-important letter above mentioned, also the memo- randum signed by Sir Henry Harrington ; and kissed his wife, who bade him God-speed. "But, my dear, suppose/' said the good^^lady, sud- denly, " suppose there should be no room in the coach, outside, or in !" " Oh dear, dear ! that never occurred to me ; NOW AND THEN. 187 really, Mary, you are always supposing such mis- chances " — " Yes ; but, dearest, you know we must consider these things !" Here they heard the distant horn of the approach- ing vehicle ; 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- 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 occurred to him, he became very anxious, strain- ing his ears in the direction of the wood, but heard no sounds. Fortunately, 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 little 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 very heart ; for he thought of the poor child lying there, all unconscious that its mother was on a bed of death — 188 NOW AND THEN. even if then alive ; and its father heavily ironed in the horrible condemned cell, doomed to die the igno- minious 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 would 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 wakeful neighbour, who told him, with a smile, on the occasion 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 coachman, with a respectful laugh; for he of course NOW AND THEN. 189 saw that Mr. Hylton was a clergyman ; and was, besides, himself at that place surrendering the reins to his successor, and had gratuities 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 Minis- ter — the Secretary of State, without knowing how to obtain access to so exalted a functionary; being utterly ignorant of all matters of official etiquette and procedure ; and unacquainted with any one in London who could give him assistance in his desperate emer- gency. He trusted, however, to the purity of his motives ; the consciousness of a courage that no fear of man had ever daunted ; 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 memorable and unhappily notorious occasion ; he was trying to get interposed the royal pre- rogative of mercy towards the convicted murderer of Lord Alkmond, after an unexceptionable trial, before the eminent Chief Justice of England, who had publicly and solemnly declared his entire approval of the ver- dict which consigned the prisoner to the gallows. And with what weapons did Mr. Hylton come armed? His 190 NOW AND THEN. heart sunk within him as he surveyed their inadequacy. Suppose Mr. Oxley and his evidence were discarded altogether from the case ; was it not impregnable, as built on unquestionable facts and the prisoner's own acknowledgments ? What could he say, as a matter of conscience and honour, of the singular communica- tion which had been made to him by Captain Lut- teridge, utterly ignorant as Mr. Hylton was of the nature of the conversation which appeared to have agitated Lord Alkmond shortly previous to his mur- der ; and, above all, restrained as he 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. That simple-minded and gallant officer. Captain Lutteridge, 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 supposed murderer had been capitally convicted ; having little or no personal acquaintance NOW AND TUEN. 191 with his Lordship, beyond having several times ex- perienced his splendid hospitalities ; intent upon tear- ing open cruel wounds, just as they might be ima- gined beginning to heal — by suggesting all sorts of* painful and agitating surmises to the Earl concerning his deceased son, if his Lordship were indeed un- acquainted with the facts concerning which Captain Lutteridge was coming to speak. " Egad, I shall be thought a paltry, gossiping, 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 reached the park gates, which his attendant had gone forward to get opened, greatly to the asto- nishment of the 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 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, his commanding officer. But he recollected that his promise had been given, and that, too, on a matter of life and death; and 192 NOW AND THEN. suddenly urging his horse, 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 servants, 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 during the day, was now burnt down to red embers ; and only a dull flick- ering light fell from the huge antique lamp suspended from the lofty ceiling. The Captain strode into the hall with a stout heart, and said, in his usual peremptory way — " Is my Lord Milverstoke 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 himself 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 NOW AND THEN. 193 that hour, being just about to retire to his chamber, and being, moreover, somewhat indisposed. " Take his Lordship, nevertheless, my name. Sir, im- mediately ; assuring him that were my errand not most pressing, I would not tresspass on his Lordship's pri- vacy in this manner." On this the gentleman bowed and withdrew, leaving the Captain with all the comfortable composure of one consciously standing on a mine certain to explode with- in 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 minute or two, on business that admits of no delay ? In short, life and death being, possibly, concerned." The gentleman gave him a strange look for a second or two, and then withdrew, promising to return very shortly with the Earl's pleasure. " My Lord was about retiring, and is indisposed to see any one. Sir," said he, returning after the lapse of a few minutes; "but I am to say, that after what you have mentioned. Sir, his Lordship cannot but receive you for a short time. Will you follow me, Sir ?" o 194 NOW AND THEN. So the Captain did, with a certain quaint, cheerless determination, mixed of courage and shame ; and pre- sently was ushered into a magnificent apartment, where sat the Earl, alone, in evening dress, in deep mourn- ing, with a melancholy countenance and a restrained demeanour. " I have the honour to receive you. Captain Lutter- idge," said his Lordship, with a courtesy manifestly tinged with stern surprise, " at a very unusual hour, at your pressing instance. I am told that you repre- sent it as concerning matters of life and death. What can you possibly mean, Sir ?" " Though I feel, my I^ord, 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, loftily, "if anything in my demeanour has offended you. I am not well. Captain Lutteridge; and you may possibly be able to guess that this is a day not calculated to compose my spirits." This last was said with real dignity and sorrow, and his frank visitor s pique had vanished as the words were uttered. NOW AND THEN, 195 " Being a soldier, my Lord, I will come to the point. Your 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 that happened during the trial that I have been, in a manner, compelled to come to your Lordship in this untimely manner : the man dies on Monday morning, my Lord, if the law take its course." 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 very extraordinary 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 tlie name of Heaven, Sir, what are you talking about?" inquired the Earl, with a startling change of countenance. " Do not, my Lord, be distressed; I will come at o2 196 NOW AND THEN. once to the point. On the fatal evening, which made your Lordship sonless, I had the distinction 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, after your Lordship and others had with- drawn; and to-day, in Court, the Judge, it seems, in- quired" — " I have heard, Sir," said the Earl, in a subdued tone, but still with great sternness, and making evi- dently a great effort to overcome violent 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, " on some other occasion." "I pledge to your Lordship the honour of an officer and a gentleman that the very few words I have to utter, must be said now, or never !" " Do you wish. Sir, to see me fall prostrate at your NOW AND THEN. 197 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 conversation arising after your Lordship had with- drawn — I took no part in it — I saw that, for some reason, the subject talked of grew more and more distresssing to my Lord Alkmond : I tried to change the topic, but it seemed fated to be persevered with ; and at length my Lord Alkmond Avas so disturbed, that I, with whom he was talking, arose much concerned, to quit the room : whether others observed it I know not, but we parted; I going to the ball-room, his Lordship towards the corridor leading to the terrace : that is all, my Lord, that I know; and, this has brought me hither : 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 spare the man's life long enough, as 'tis whispered, for further inquiry, if so be there remain time ; that is, the man 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 198 NOW AND THEN. 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 in an hour hence." Captain Lutteridge was so completely absorbed with his own earnest feelings and the existing complicated movements of his own mind — at best, moreover, no very acute observer of the manner of others — that he did not see the tremendous agitation which his noble com- panion was doing his utmost to suppress. Had the light, too, been somewhat brighter, the Captain might have observed evidences 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 into the woods, from which he was destined never to return alive. At length the restrained breathing of Lord Milverstoke, becoming every moment more and more violent, attracted the attention of Captain Lutteridge. " Why, my Lord, I fear much that I have disquieted your Lordship — that you seem ill. God forbid, my Lord, that I should have done all this ; but I never thought it would have come to this point, or never NOW AND THEN. 191) would I have stirred in the matter. 1 hope I have your Lordship's pardon for an untimely visit ; one which I begin to fear is somewhat unmannerly. But did your Lordship never hear of all this before ? Seeing three or four others heard it besides me, and now I wish I had not. My Lord ! my Lord ! you seem ill ; shall I call for assistance ?" Lord Milverstoke heaved a vast sigh, and stretched forth his hand violently, deprecating the threatened movement of the Captain, who was utterly bewildered by the sight of such fearful mental agony, which he could not account for satisfactorily, 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 agita- tion, having, indeed, a far deeper cause than was dreamed of by the Captain, though he had unknow- ingly called it into action. The Earl walked with heavy step to the door, and secured it ; then returned to his chair, 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 Lord Milverstoke suddenly to sink back in his chair as though he had been shot. Captain Lutteridge in- 200 • NOW AND THEN. stantly rose and went towards the door, saying to him- self, 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 it!" Language, indeed, could not adequately describe the feelings which were at that moment convulsing the very soul of Lord Milverstoke within 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 lifetime, anxiety; and, after his death, serious disquietude. The former, however, had been in no small degree tinged with dis- pleasure; 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, ruth- lessly 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 NOW AND THEN. ' 201 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 burthened with when he — when he implored me — in vain," — thought the Earl, press- ing both his hands to his bursting forehead, and then pacing 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 ap- peared to start from one reverie only to sink into some other, more agitating; but gradually the continued 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 ?" inquired the Earl, languidly, and as though he did not comprehend why the Captain had made the observation. '* Yes, my Lord, nearly half an hour : the coach goes by at twelve, and Mr. Hylton starts" — ''What, Sir? what. Sir?" interrupted the Earl, sternly. "Oh, I had forgotten. Sir; private circum- stances, Captain Lutteridge, which you know not of, nor ever can, have caused your last words to stab me 202 NOW AND THEN. as with a knife ! And besides^ Sir, sorrow has of late not a little shaken my nerves." " My Lord, I cannot adequately express my regret ; but time ])resses — 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. ''The man hangs, my Lord, past praying for, on Monday morning" — " And why should he not. Sir ?" thundered the Earl, in a voice which echoed through the lofty and spacious apartment, and for a moment all trace of his Lord- ship's previous agony had disappeared. " Why, my Lord, perhaps," said Captain Lutter- idge, stoutly and calmly, " he may not be rightly con- demned." "Are you in your senses. Sir?" inquired the Earl, vehemently. " Yes, my Lord," replied Captain Lutteridge, quietly. " I think you are not. Sir ! Nor are you. Sir ! Do you, in your calm 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, NOVV AND THEN. 203 that you and Mr. Hylton — Mr. HyJton — arc 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 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 per- mission, in whose house I heard it. Time, therefore, now no longer presses, my Lord," said the Captain, 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 possibiUty have to do with the bloodthirsty miscreant that is to 204 NOW AND THEN. 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 bearing on the case of him that is to die on Monday." " Nor has it, Sir ! nor can it, Sir ! — not one iota r The Earl seemed suddenly moved by some inward feelings of a less stormy nature than those by which he had hitherto been agitated. " Captain Lutteridge," said he, " 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, as he uttered these words, penetrated the heart of Captain Lutteridge. " My Lord, I trust you will say nothing of it. 1 owe your Lordship unspeakable amends for what I have done ; and now see what methinks I might have seen before, had I considered the matter fully," replied the Captain, heartily ; " but it was the thought of life and death that led me astray." NOW AND THEN. 205 " 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 of it^ but from public talk." " Did you say, Sir, that this night persons are travel- ling 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 ; 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 commu- nicated to me ? I never till now heard of it ; and can it be doubted. Sir, that anything relating to my late son, my unhappy Alkmond, must be of painful, nay, frightful interest to me ?" 206 NOW AND THEN. " Most willingly shall I attend your Lordship." " And in the mean time, Captain Lutteridge, I im- plore you to spare the feelings of a bereaved father, and talk not of these matters to others, when your so doing may serve only to spread idle and distressing rumours. 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 afterwards 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 Milverstoke. When he had reached the inn 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 NOW AND THEN. 207 to Milverstoke the convict AylifFe's body would be in the hands of the surgeon. Rather late in the afternoon of Saturday Mr. Hyl- ton 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 very little time to dress, and still less to partake of refreshment, that he might lose not a moment of his precious time. Forth, therefore, he sallied towards Westminster, 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 himself, desperately fatigued also, and ab- sorbed with a most portentous mission, it suddenly occurred 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 creden- tials or introductions of any kind. How then was he to expect reception and attention at the Secretary of State's, on a matter, moreover, of such magnitude as attempting to stay the execution of a criminal whose conviction for so enormous an atrocity as the murder of Lord Alkmond had become a subject of national attention? As all this suddenly flashed across his mind, he stopped, struck his stick dispairingly on the 208 NOW AND THEN. pavement, and for some moments arrested the atten- tion of every passer-by, as the very image of one 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 inade([uacy to their object. But the miserable image of AylifFe, lying heavily ironed in the con- demned cell, brought within a few hours of eternity — the sands of life running out fast — and he too a per- fectly innocent man, as Mr. Hylton in his conscience believed him, quickened his movements and re-strung his relaxed energies. Silently invoking God's blessing on his humane enterprise, he hurried onward, and pre- sented 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 were within. Making up his mind to encounter and disregard all kinds of discourtesy, so as he but gained his object, and trusting some little to his sacred character and appearance, and his con- sciousness of having a gentleman'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, intending forth- with to mount their horses, which were standing at NOW AND THEN. 209 the door. One of these, a gay young gentleman, evi- dently of quality, Mr. Hylton, in a very courteous manner, spoke to as he was passing, heartily laughing at some joke of his companion, who seemed very obse- quious to him. " Sir, I ask your forgiveness for the intrusion/' quoth Mr. Hylton in an earnest manner, taking off his hat ; "but is the Secretary of State within?" " What though he le ?" jocularly interposed the companion of the gentleman who had been addressed, who, however, took off his hat with a very bland and high-bred air that nobly contrasted with that of the rude intruder, and said, " Lord Farnborough, Sir, is within, but cannot be seen, being here beyond his usual hour of attendance, engaged on business of great im- portance : but. Reverend Sir^ can I do aught for 3^ou in the meanwhile.'^" " I greatly thank you. Sir," — " My Lord, if you please" — • interrupted the other with an air of vulgar obsequiousness, which was fit- tingly 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 1' 210 NOW AND THEN. 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 errand. 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 ;'* at this — " Oh, think nothing of it. Sir, I beg," said his Lord- ship, rather hastily. " 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 understand: proceed. Sir, if you please. But may I ask who you are. Sir ?" " I am the Reverend Henry Hylton, Vicar of Mil- verstoke, my Lord." " Ho ! Milverstoke ! Milverstoke ! That is the place," said his Lordship with a very grave air, " 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, unless he be respited, and on that subject I have come up, and have but just quitted the coach." NOW AND THEN. 211 " Oh ! seeking a respite ? but that, you know, espe- cially in such a case as this — however, of course you are prepared with grounds V^ " I am, my Lord." " Sir, you shall see my Lord Farnborough immedi- ately ; he will, I am sure, receive you, however other- wise occupied he may happen just now to be." On this his Lordship withdrew, leaving Mr. Hylton alone for a few moments, who took out his pocket-book, saw that his few manuscripts were there in readiness, hastily arranged his thoughts so as to express himself with the utmost possible brevity, point, and force, and, after scarcely three minutes' absence, his Lordship returned followed by a gentleman, whom he desired to show Mr. Hylton into the private room of Lord Farnborough : a minute more, and the all-important interview between Mr. Hylton and the Minister had commenced. The nobleman who then filled that vastly responsible and ar- duous office, was an eminent statesman — 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 effec- tually providing for its safety, and at the same time justif}ing his measures against a most malignant oppo- sition. Mr. Hylton, himself a man of intellect, was instantly charmed by the minister's appearance; for p2 ^12 NOW AND THEN. he looked calmness itself, and, though evidently harassed, by no means oppressed by his multifarious and distracting duties. He quietly pointed to a va- cant chair nearly opposite to him, and on which iMr. Hylton immediately sat down. " Will you be so obliging as to state shortly your business, Sir?" said he. *' I presume, my Lord, you have heard of the murder of the 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 Vicar of Milver- stoke, and the convict is an old parishioner of mine, of hitherto spotless and exemplary character. I am per- fectly satisfied that he is really innocent of this charge." " How came he to be convicted then ? Have you any evidence that was not laid before the judge and jury ? 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 NOW AND THEN. 213 gentleman withdrew, and Mr. Hylton proceeded to give a brief and lucid sketch of the case as proved, to which he saw the Minister listening with perfect atten- tion. While Mr. Hylton was proceeding, the gentle- man above spoken of reappeared, but immediately with- drew, 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 Mr. Hylton. " I perceive. Sir," said he, 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 exercise of the Royal prerogative to stay the execution of the law — a matter always of infinite delicacy and in this case, responsi- bility — and I at present see no sufficient grounds for doingJso. Since you have been here, however, I have ascertained that the Lord Chief Justice has arrived in town, and is now at his house. I expect his Report this evening; in the mean time he is the person to whom you should address yourself." " My Lord — forgive me^ but did I succeed in makii.g myself understood to be asking now for a short respite, only, to afford time for inquiry ?" 214 NOW AND THEN. "Perfectly, Sir., You had better go at once to his Lordship, who has power to order — with whom, in- deed, it in the first instance properly rests — the respite for which you ask: but I recommend you, Sir, not to be sanguine." " But will his Lordship receive me at once ?'* "Unquestionably, Sir; in serious matters of this sort, everybody is always accessible : God forbid that it should be otherwise." The Minister's significant glance as he concluded uttering the last words, at evidently a newly opened dispatch, apprised Mr. Hylton that his audience was over. Bowing profoundly, he withdrew, the Minister courteously returning his salutation, while he drew before him the important and pressing document of which Mr. Hylton's arrival had prevented his perusal. Mr. Hylton soon found his way to the room where he had left the young Lord, who was there waiting for him. The former was anxious to have spoken on the sub- ject of his interview with the Minister; but from his Lordship's manner concluded that such a procedure was contrary to etiquette, and contented himself with asking the address of the Lord Chief Justice, which was immediately procured for him : and shortly after- wards Mr. Hylton got into a coach, and drove straight to the Lord Chief Justice's house, greatly disheartened NOW AND THEN. 215 by the reception which he had just met with from the courteous Lord Farnborough. On inquiring whether the Lord Chief Justice'was within, a footman, somewhat superciliously, answered in the affirmative, but that his Lordship having only a few hours before re- turned from Circuit, was about sitting down to dinner, and could on no account whatever be disturbed. But Mr. Hylton pretty sharply said that his business ad- mitted 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 speaking, came forward, and in an affable manner, said that he had no objection to hear shortly the nature of the gentleman's business, and by-and-bye tell it to my Lord ; but that his Lord- ship certainly could not be disturbed 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 would have been, by these menial airs. " Tell his Lordship, if you please," said he quietly, " that I am the Reverend Mr. Hylton, the Vicar of Milverstoke." " Oh ! is it about the Milverstoke murder, Sir ?" quoth the butler, with a good-natured air : *' 'Tis a very awful murder, folks say." 216 NOW AND THEN. " Take in my name, Sir, instantly to his Lordship !"" said Mr. Hylton sternly. ^^ Bless ns!" said the butler, half whistling, but went to the library, and, after a few minutes' absence, returned quite an altered man, bowing most obse- quiously ; and Mr. Hylton was immediately ushered into the presence of the Lord Chief Justice, a man considerably advanced in years, of benevolent counte- nance; care-worn and grave; a very great lawyer; of simple and pure character, and very unassuming manners. He sat 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 very striking scene which he had accidentally witnessed, immediately after sentencing the Milverstoke mur- derer ; and nothing could be more respectful or cordial than his reception of Mr. Hylton. " I fear I can only too surely conjecture, Reverend Sir," said his Lordship gravely, " 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." NOW' AND THEN. 217 *' It is SO, m}^ Lord, indeed," replied Mr. Hylton, sighing. The Lord Chief Justice shook his head, shrugged his shoulders with dismal significance, but said nothing. " I trust that I shall be able, my Lord, notwithstanding those ominous gestures of your Lord- ship'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 aiford 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 chair — for a moment overcome with ex- haustion, want of food, and long-continued agitation and excitement. The Lord Chief Justice instantly ordered in a glass of wine, giving it him with his own hand, and using many kind expressions. Mr. Llylton soon recovered himself, offering apologies, but attri- buting the weakness frankly to the true cause. " Ah 1 Sir," said his Lordship, kindly, " these are very agitating affairs, even to us Judges, however long we may have been accustomed to this melancholy part of our duties ; but let us go in to dinner, Mr. Hylton— nay, I positively insist upon it — I am quite alone, with the exception 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 21 8 NOW AND THEN. cannot do justice to your case, whatever it may be — trust me — till you have a little recruited your physical energies ; and we have 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," interrupted 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 frugal as you please, to attend to it with revived, and only befitting energy." This proved irresistible, and Mr. Hylton presently 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 concerning the subject, nor on anything akin to it, which was to be so solemnly discussed by them after dinner ; and before half an hour had elapsed from their sitting down, they both withdrew to the library. " Now, Mr. Hylton," commenced his Lordship, with a suddenly resumed judicial air, " I have before me my notes of the trial of Ayliife yesterday. What have you to say on the subject ? Has anything important come to light since the trial ? For if not, I must tell you, at the outset, not to be too sanguine. A clearer NOW AND THEN. 219 case, I think I have seldom, if indeed ever, tried. I trust you have no fault to find with the way in which I put the case to the jury? Pray, speak freely. Reverend Sir ; we are all liable to error." " My Lord, I frankly assure 3 ou 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 brings himself to the body 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 the man whom, according to his own story, he meant to strike, what signifies it in point of law ? The person whom he so killed by mistake, he mur- dered : God forbid. Reverend Sir, that there should be any doubt about that P^ " 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 220 NOW AND THEN. 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, disposing 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 going to adduce before you, whether you did not deem of great importance the absence of all sound 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 witnesses on that part of the case, and remarked on it to the jury?" " You did, my Lord." " And indeed the point is most important. If you recollect, 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" pre- sumption of guilt." " Well, my Lord," said Mr. Hylton, evidently with no little excitement and expectation, taking out from his pocket-book the letter of Mrs. Merton ; which, after explaining who the writer was, and how it was that NOW AND THEN. 221 her communication had not come to his hands till after the trial, put the letter 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 — looking at the outside, the post-mark, and superscription ; and all the while in perfect silence, and with a countenance from which it was quite impossible to collect what im- pression had been produced on his mind. Then he quietly laid down the letter, towards Mr. Hylton, whose 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 cunning devices to which prisoners and their friends will have recourse, to mislead in- quiry, and divert suspicion. I have known of one or two, and heard of several instances very like 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 exem- plary character ? The idea, my Lord, of her " — " Oh, Mr. Hylton, you quite misapprehend me. Independently of even your own testimony, I think I know a little myself of this lady: she belongs to a 222 NOW AND THEN. noble family " — Mr. Hylton nodded — " and her hus- band is a distinguished divine, I believe. This good lady believes, doubtless, in the genuineness and authen- ticity of the letter she speaks of; but" — he shook his head — " that carries us a very little way on our journey indeed! I told you not to be sanguine, Mr. Hylton, as you must remember. Besides, where is the original? How could any Judge safely act, in even the most trivial case, on the document now before us — not even a copy? And even the original would, in my opinion, carry us no further. Come, my dear Sir," said he very kindly, observing Mr. Hylton's blank and crest- fallen look, " can you yourself supply me with reasons against the validity of those with which I am forced to encounter your letter ?" " Yes, my Lord. Remember, I pray you, that I am not asking for a pardon — not calling on you to assume the functions of a jury — but only to inter- pose 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 arrives and incontestably esta- blishes the truth of what is contained in it ?" "Why, suppose he did, Mr. H3'lton ! Apply an unbiassed mind to the case, as if you had yourself to administer justice. By the way, are you a magistrate ?" NOW AND THEN. 223 Mr. Hylton nodded. " 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 connected with the bloody transaction in the wood ? Is it not separated from the shore by cliffs r " 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 knows but that those very persons may have done the deed ?" The Lord Chief Justice shook his head ; but took up the letter and read it again, with, as Mr. Hylton sanguinely supposed, more thoughtfulness than his Lordship wished to appear. " Pardon me, my Lord," said Mr. Hylton, *' but there occurs to me another way of putting the case. And while we discuss, how fast fly away this man's pre- cious moments !" " I am perfectly and painfully aware of that, Re- verend 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 re- ceived this letter, or the one to which it refers, before the Court opened yesterday, and the prisoner's counsel had applied to your Lordship to postpone the trial till the next Assizes ?" 224 NOW AND THEN. " Sir, that is well worth considering, undoubtedly. You put your points very 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 Justice, musingly, but still discouragingly. " Is this 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, unsatisfactory nature ; but, if time be given, I am not hopeless of discovering something highly important. Your Lord- ship 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 circum- stance, which I should like to have had, if possible, NOW AND THEN. 225 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 in circumstances of exquisite embarrass- ment on this subject." The Lord Chief Justice looked with great curiosity at Mr. Hylton on his saying this. " I have some reason to believe, 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 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 1 have heard sufficient to excite lively anxiety and curiosity ; and possibly — 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 1 have heard, without the express permission of the person to whom I have been alluding. I may, how- ever, tell your Lordship that I am acting on information sent to me with great anxiety, in consequence of a Q 226 NOW AND THEN. gentleman being present at the trial, who, on his return home, communicated to a friend that which had fallen from your Lordship, and led him to use his very utmost exertions to bring this matter to my notice immediately. Thrice had a mounted messenger from him been at my house between the close of the trial, and my return to Milverstoke ; and I met the 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 com- municating to me what he knew." To all this the Chief Justice listened with profound attention. "I am sure, Mr. Hylton," said he, gravely, " that a gentleman of your very superior capacity, to say nothing of your position as a clergyman and ma- gistrate, is aware of the responsibility attaching to anything said by you to me on such an occasion as this, and that you cannot be unconsciously 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 — that there may be something in the back- ground fully warranting the step which I am taking. I do not feel myself at liberty, speaking for a mo- ment as a man of even mere worldly honour, to mention who is the person of whom I am speaking, or NOW AND THEN. 227 what his station in society. Nay, my Lord, I now recollect that he expressed his own belief that the matter would prove not to be connected with that in question ; but he had previously mentioned enough, of what I can here say nothing, to make me take a very, very different view of the affair." *' And you say that this matter is at this moment in a train of inquiry?" " Undoubtedly, undoubtedly, my Lord." " Very well, Mr. Hylton ; all this is very curious, at least. What next ?" " Why, my Lord, I have, I think, discovered facts tending 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 afterwards proved it, as giving a peculiarly malignant complexion to the case." " He did, undoubtedly. 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 him- self felt the importance of establishing a motive on q2 228 NOW AND THEN. the part of the prisoner for perpetrating so enormous 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 affrighed flight from the very corpse of the mur- dered 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 proceed, however." " 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 pro- posing another form of expression, which was in conse- quence of a written suggestion sent him in Court ? I, my Lord, sent that paper ; I proposed that question ; NOW AND THEN. 229 for the magistrate (who also committed him on the charge for murder) had on that day told me the words which he had heard the prisoner utter; and I have here Sir Henry Harrington's own signed statement (here Mr. Hylton produced it), attesting the words to have been most distinctly heard by him, and to be — ' He shall smart for it, that brought me here ;' and Sir Henry observed the prisoner glance at the man who had so cruelly and perfidiously used him." Mr. Hylton paused; so did the Chief Justice/ pre- sently observing — "Well, Mr. Hylton, does all this carry your case a 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 manacled and fettered figure perpetually before my eye." " God forbid, Mr. Hylton," said the Chief Justice, very solemnly and kindly, laying his hand on that of Mr. Hylton, " that you should suppose it necessary to apologize for anything 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 230 NOW AND THEN. given me the scales of Justice to hold, and my reason must not bo disturbed by my feelings. Proceed, dear Sir, and say all that occurs to you, even stay you 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 little while he paused to overcome his emotions. " I feel, my Lord, getting weak and exhausted in this mortal wrestle with your Lordship, on so awful an occasion. 'Tis what I am not used to ; and I must soon cease." He seemed, for a moment, at a loss. "You were speaking of Mr. 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, a word presently) have been persecuted beyond all bearing — so they both tell me — by Mr. Oxley, who wants, as they say, to get them out of a small freehold cottage of the NOW AND THEN. 231 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 in- structions, and what he has done is probably all unknown to Lord Milverstoke ; 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 probably soon find himself in a much larger house — the workhouse." " The brutal fellow !" exclaimed the Chief Justice, indignantly. " 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 flung him several yards through the door, like a rotten faggot." The Chief Justice made no reply. " 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 run away as for life, and then own it all in the open Court ? Oh, Mr. Hylton!" " A word more, my Lord," said he, in a very 232 NOW AND THEN. desponding tone, after both of them had been silent for some moments, the Chief Justice's eyes fixed on the fire, his face indicating that he was in deep thought — " a word more, and my melancholy mission is closed. I have known the prisoner and his father for upwards of twenty years; and solemnly declare 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 — ruined at last by his generosity to another — a very second Job, my Lord." Here Mr. Hylton suddenly stopped, for his voice failed him. The Chief Justice got up ; and, as if to avoid seeing Mr. Hylton's emo- tion, slowly walked away, really, however, to conceal his own feelings ; but soon he returned. " Thou 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 7/ze r " May God bless your Lordship, living and dying !" faltered Mr. Hylton; and it was not for several mo- ments that either recovered his self-possession. " Let us .now, Mr. Hylton, return to this sad busi- NOW AND THEN. 233 ncss," said, at length, the Chief Justice, calmly, mildly, and very gravely. " Have you anything fur- ther to urge ?" " Only that this poor soul, the prisoner, ^so far from beino- of the barbarous nature which could suffer him o to do this deed of blood, is, and has been ever, beloved by young and old, who know him, as a youth of generous heart; has several times 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 asseverates his total innocence, his absolute ignorance of the person who did, or the manner in which was done this horrible murder; and that when I had, to the best of my power, taught him that he had looked his last in life— that hereafter was close upon him. And, my Lord, by my own hopes, and in the presence of Him whom 1 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 I now leave the matter." 234 NOW AND THEN. " It is one, Mr. Hylton, of some difficulty, and requires consideration," said the Chief Justice ; "and that consideration must be, as far as possible, per- fectly 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 attention to all that you have so discreetly, and so eloquently, urged upon me this evening. You must leave with me that letter which you received from Mrs. Merton ; and, if you feel disposed to return hither in two hours' time, you shall know my decision." Seeing by his countenance and manner, that the Chief Justice desired immediately to be left alone, Mr. Hylton withdrew, the Chief Justice bidding him Good evening, cordially, but so very gravely, that he unconsciously shot dismay into the very soul of Mr. Hylton. As he quitted the library, the butler approached, bringing him his hat and stick, with very great respect, and in silence ; and the next moment he was alone in the open air — determining 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 mind all that had taken place ! whether he had omitted anything, or urged anything ineffectually ; also he pondered NOW AND THEN. 235 the whole demeanour of the grave and discreet 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 appointed 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 the Chief Justice's chief 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 ad- mitted ; 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 was opened and closed; and Mr. Hylton was shown into the library, where sat the Chief Justice, looking somewhat fatigued, and 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 236 KOW AND THEN. myself at liberty to order a respite for the pri- soner." '*^Go(l bless your Lordship! God be thanked/' commenced 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 representations, to afford a little time for further inquiry ; but am bound to tell you, that I feel the very reverse of 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 public ; but God forbid 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 forfeited, should be thrown away. AH your energies must now be exerted to establish facts tending to raise a very strong presumption, against fearfully strong appearances. For this pur- pose I have granted a delay of a fortnight, that all necessary inquiries may be set" on foot, especially with regard to the letter of which this speaks which you left with me : and you will have the goodness, at the earliest moment that is 'practicable, to forward to me that other letter. It is right to intimate to you that, NOW AND THEN. 237 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 distinguished and deeply in- jured a prosecutor." To this suggestion Mr. Hylton listened in silent despair. "What use is to be made by the prisoner, of the brief extension of his earthly career, none knows better. Reverend Sir, than your- self, and I presume not to say a word on that subject. Humanity plainly dictates one thing— the steadfast depression of the prisoner's hopes to the very lowest point possible, lest the result of your charitable inter- ference should have been only to inflict twice on him the pangs of death. Good-bye, Mr. Hylton, good- bye ; God speed your eff*orts, and if the prisoner be innocent, may your efforts to show it, succeed." " But the respite, my Lord— 1 beg your Lordship's pardon— but Monday morning is awfully near us; when will your Lordship order" — " Your anxiety. Sir, is very 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 238 NOW AND THEN. forwarded, for your consolation I may tell you, by two separate Government messengers, 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 expiration of fourteen days from the date of that order of the Chief Justice ! So, with a heart beating gratitude to that merciful and considerate judge, Mr. Hylton re- spectfully 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 London at the same hour as it passed through Milverstoke, a mistake which he would soon have found out, but for his being so com- pletely absorbed in the pressing and all-important affair 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 circum- stances in doing, and for which, indeed, he had not by him the requisite funds, nor knew where to obtain NOW AND THEN. 239 them at a moment's notice in London, he could not reach the county town 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 at another, in a different part of the town. On reaching his inn, he went straight to bed, quite overpowered with long want of rest, travelling, 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 forgetful- ness, — into sleep unbroken and profound : and when he woke scarcely knew where he was ; the place around him was quite strange, the sun shone brightly, and for some minutes he seemed struggling out of some wild and gloomy dream. A guard's horn pealing " in the coach-yard beneath him, however, effectually recalled his scattered faculties : and forth he sprung from bed in consternation. It was nearly nine o'clock, and the coach by which he had hoped to start was then some fort}^ miles on its way towards Milverstoke ! He rang his bell hurriedly, and all he could learn from the Boots was, that he had knocked till he was tired, and had even come into the room and spoken 240 NOW AND THEN. to Mr. Hylton, who answered him, but must have fallen asleep again. There was no help for it. Mr. Hylton was not a man to curse himself, and everybody and everything about him. A misfortune had oc- curred, which seemed to have been inevitable : and in reality no one soever was to blame. He had nothing for it now but to book a place by a coach starting at seven o'clock that evening, and then he betook him- self to the nearest church, and attended the service there ; and again at Westminster Abbey in the after- noon : feeling during the day no little misgiving con- cerning 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 Westminster, 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, for he found that no less a personage than an Under Secretary and several clerks were there, engaged on important business, connected with apprehended dis- turbances 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 re- NOW AND THEN. 241 ceived overnight from the Chief Justice, of his having ordered a fortnight's respite to Adam Ayliffe, under sentence of death for the murder of Lord Alkmond ; that such order had been forthwith dispatched by special messenger, who would deliver it during the ensuing afternoon into the hand of the proper au- thority. " But forgive my anxiety in a matter in which I have taken a deep interest," said Mr. Hylton : " Suppose the messengers should happen to miscarry ? " " It may, of course, be the worse for the prisoner," replied the clerk somewhat impatiently ; " but suppose the sky were to fall — you know the saying, Sir. A special messenger miscarry. Sir ! " 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 go- vernment in the inquiries which were to be set on foot, as suggested by the Lord Chief Justice. 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 extra- ordinary exertions on the part of Mr. Hylton, postponed for a few fleeting days; and he purposed sending 242 NOW AND THEN. on his portmanteau to the inn at Milverstoke, him- self staying behind to have an interview at the gaol with poor Ayliffe, and possibly his father. As he tra- velled along, he calmly reviewed the occurrences of the last few days, and, agitating and alarming as they were, really thought that streaks of light were 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 ignominious death. What, he began to in- quire, 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 began to pic- ture to himself the dismal scene which mighty 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-passengers whom they met^ and in increasing numbers ; and at length - — how shall it be written? — Mr. Hylton almost fell from his seat ; for he heard the voice of a person holding a long printed paper in his hand — *' Why, Sir — Parson Hylton — Sir'' — said the coach- man, 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 !" NOW AND THEN. Uh 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, turn- ing deadly pale : '' Am I dreaming ? What inscrutable dispensation of Providence is this? Have, then, the special messengers miscarried after all ? or has Lord Farnborough thought fit to overrule the Chief Justice ? Oh, horror! " thought he -and all this with lightning rapidity. He staggered towards the man who had the papers in 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 received a number of them to dispose of, and not having heard of the respite which had arrived for the great and chief criminal, 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 on the same day as Ayliffe, for steal- ing the pair of shoes at the fair, and the cheese from the dairy. Poor souls, they had died, it seemed, with great penitence, acknowledging, if not the lenity of the laws, the justice of the sentence under which they suf- fered ; for, indeed, how could they do otherwise, when the stolen articles had been found in their actual pos- r2 244 NOW AND THEN. session ? Their last moments had been, however, a little disturbed at the sudden, and, as it seemed to them, unjust escape of their expected fellow-suiFerer, the mur- derer; a complaint, as Mr. Hylton afterwards learnt from the Chaplain, which was one of the very latest among the words spoken by them on earth. The gal- lows, 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 answer to his hurried inquiry how Ayliffe had borne the temporary postponement of his sentence, the turnkey to whom he spoke informed him that the man was pretty well considering, but that there had been a great stir when the news came. Mr. Hyl- ton was immediately introduced to the Chaplain in the governor's room, and found to his great 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 in- timation 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 i NOW AND THEN. 245 even the Chaplain and governor. With equal discre- tion he left the prison without having any interview with AylifFe, to be spared useless pain, and avoid ques- tions causing an agonizing embarrassment. The Chap- lain had been intrusted with the critical task of com- municating to Ayliffe the utterly unexpected result of Mr. Hylton's unknown exertions on his behalf; the in* telhgence arriving only a few hours after Ayliffe and the two other capital convicts had partaken of the sacrament. He bore the agitating communication in total silence, but shortly afterwards became wildly ex- cited ; in spite of all the exhortations of the Chaplain^ expressing his conviction that by some providential r means his innocence had been discovered ; and it was not till after he had become calmer, that the official docu- ment was shown him, by which his wretched life was extended to one fortnight longer, 2in^ one fortnight 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 his peace of mind endangered. The old man had him^ self, been very tenderly dealt with, on being told of the respite by the Chaplain, who had already con- ceived a great respect for him, infinitely heightened by the firmness and composure with which he re- ceived the intelligence and conducted himself towards 246 NOW AND THEN. his son. With what tempered sternness and afFecn tion 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 Mr. Hylton now rode on to Milverstoke. He felt the fearful responsibility which his energetic humanity liad 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 learnt 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 within half a mile of the barracks ; to which, accordingly, on arriving 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. NOW AND THEN. 247 his men being drawn up, ready for drills 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 am I that I thought of going. It has done 3^ou no service. Sir, and I have greatly angered (about which I care not) and distressed my Lord Milverstoke, for which I do care greatly." " I deeply regret to hear it," replied Mr. Hylton ; " but permit me to ask what was the result of your interview ? Are you at liberty to tell me what you had thought of ?" " No, Sir ;" answered Captain Lutteridge, peremp- torily. "No!" echoed Mr. Hylton. " Not one word. Sir !" Mr. Hylton felt distressed and confounded. Here had broken down, suddenly and altogether, one of the props on which rested the precious but precarious fabric of his hopes for Ayliffe. A miserable begin- ning was this of his fortnight's exertions ! " Perhaps, Captain Lutteridge, you have heard of the respite for a few days, which I have succeeded in obtaining?" 248 NOW AND THEN, « Yes, Sir, last night." " I trust. Sir, that you heard with some satisfaction, the news that a fellow-creature may be spared from suffering unjustly an ignominious death?" " Sir, 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 will be all right, being 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?" " That," said the Captain, drily, " never occurred 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." NOW AND THEN. 249 " Yes, Sir, doubtless. But, by the way," added the Captain, suddenly, " 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 dig- nity, " I am a gentleman, as are you ; and though a Christian minister struggling on behalf of one con- demned unjustly to death, I could not break my pro- mise, though, I own, with a conscience disquieting me at the time." "I hope quite unnecessarily," said the Captain. " But understand 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?" interrupted the Captain, his whole face suddenly flushed. " Hear me. Captain Lutteridge," said Mr. Hylton, calmly ; " hear what passed between the Lord Chief Justice and myself. I placed my application to him on four 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 phrenzy. 250 NOW AND THEN. " I say, Sir," continued Mr. Hylton, eyeing him with stern steadfastness, — ''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 vehe- mence. " I will. Sir, if you interrupt me not ;" said Mr. Hyl- ton, thoroughly roused, and speaking with a deliberate determination which instantly arrested the Captain's impetuosity; but he walked to and fro hastily, his jack-boots clattering, perhaps, 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 per- mission of some one else : was attempting to do so when I quitted Milverstoke ; and that, till I received express permission, 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." "Yes, yes, I did ssijthat—l did, I recollect; but, excuse me, Reverend Sir," he added, with a somewhat NOW AND THEN. 251 puzzled air ; " I did not quite understand all that went before ; 'tis too long : I ask the favour of you to repeat it, Sir." Mr. Hylton deliberately repeated what he had said, adding, " but I never made the slightest mention of Lord Milverstoke, nor you, 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 that would not give the Lord Chief Justice any inkling, eh ? These great lawyers can find out so much more in everything than ice can. — Eh ? how is it ?" *' 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 circum- stance, fresh " — " Egad ! so one of our men outside, there, told Lieutenant Wylsden, this morning, that something strange had turned up. What is it ? if it please you, Reverend Sir." *' 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 252 NOW AND THEN. 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?" "Sir, I have given you an answer, and cannot go further. I am not at liberty to do what you ask." " 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 not one syllable on this matter get you from me : and — harke'e, .Sir," he added very significantly, " I wish you well out of asking my Lord Milverstoke your- self ; but my men. Reverend Sir, are waiting, and I bid you good morning." So ended this disheartening interview ; Mr. Hylton remounting his horse and quitting the barrack-yard, much more depressed than he had entered it. He was about to turn back to inquire from Captain Lutteridge whether he had told the Earl who it was that was going 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 number of persons, who appeared as if they had walked from some distance. The faces of many of them he knew : NOW AND THEN. 253 they saluted him as he quickly passed, with a dash of awe and expectation in their respectful obeisances. He quickened his pace to escape from the gaze of excited 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 an eager crowd, who in a quarter of an hour's time had nearly doubled their numbers ; so that he was forced to quit the room again, where he had left Mrs. Hylton, no little excited with what was going on ; and approach- ing his gateway, got on the horse steps outside it ; and assured the crowd, who instantly uncovered, and be- came 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 he was obeyed within as short a time as could be 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 having arrived only some quarter of an hour before her husband's return ; bearing a great black coroneted seal, and addressed to him in Lord Milver- stoke's handwriting, with that formidable name at full 254 NOW AND THEN. length in the corner of the letter. Mr. Hylton, with forced calmness, opened it and read as follows : — " Castle, Monday morning, 8 o'clock, a.m. "The Earl of Milverstoke requests'* (the word originally written was visibly " desires''^) "the attend- ance 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 hurriedly discussing, at the mo- ment of Mr. Hylton's quitting her to dismiss the little crowd assembled before his door. " T do not perfectly like the peremptory authori- tative 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 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 en- counter, I see too plainly," said his wife, apprehensively. NOW AND THEN. 255 " Painful, Mary — very, very painful may it 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 wrongfull}-, 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, my Mary, think, of Him whose servant I am ! Vv' hose bidding I do — aye, and will do, though hell itself rise against me ! And in my Master's name, the Lord of Lords and King of Kings, wdll I encounter this proud Earl, and, it maybe, humble him into submission to the will of God, and make him peld to the dictates of our better nature." *' But, I must say, there are great allowances to be made for him," said Mrs. Hylton ; " what would be our feelings if this little girl of ours — our only one — were — were " — " Poor soul !" exclaimed her father, looking tenderly at the little 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 would pray for grace to forgive her murderers ; and if 1 could not get that grace, then would she be an angel in Heaven, and I her unhappy father be for ever excluded ; this, my 256 NOW AND THEN. Master has taught me — this he has expressly told me! Come hither, my little Mary, and let me feel your 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 could have clasped her husband in her arms ; for, as he spoke, there beamed upon his harassed features an ex- pression that was heavenly. For him she enter- tained 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 com- mand of temper ; in short, the simplicity and elevation of his whole character. That minister of God was in- deed a burning and a shining light, which, placed on an eminence, would have scattered far a blessed radiance ; but a Wisdom unquestionable, and by him unques- tioned, had placed him not on the mountain, but in the valley — had assigned him a remote and obscure sta- tion in the great vineyard. But how noble the oppor- tunity of doing good that seemed now afforded him ! Already had he felt stirring within him energies, the ^^ existence of which he had known not, till they wev^^ thus unexpectedly developed ; and at the moment of his ^;<; UNIVERSrTY OF ILLIN0I8-URBANA 3 0112 056526988