Part 46 (1/2)
”Your wife and daughter,” said Lord Arleigh.
”My daughter!” exclaimed the man. ”Good Heaven! Oh, I see! Well, go on.
You are interested in my wife and daughter--what else?”
”There is one thing I can do which would not only be of material benefit to them, but would make your daughter very happy. It cannot be done unless we can prove your innocence.”
”Poor little Madaline,” said the convict, quietly--”poor, pretty little girl!”
Lord Arleigh's whole soul revolted on hearing this man speak so of his fair, young wife. That this man, with heavy iron bars separating him, as though he were a wild animal, from the rest of the world, should call his wife ”poor, pretty little Madaline.”
”I would give,” said Lord Arleigh, ”a great deal to find that your conviction had been a mistake. I know circ.u.mstances of that kind will and do happen. Tell me honestly, is there any, even the least probability, of finding out anything to your advantage?”
”Well,” replied Henry Dornham, ”I am a ne'er-do-well by nature. I was an idle boy, an idle youth, and an idle man. I poached when I had a chance.
I lived on my wife's earnings. I went to the bad as deliberately as any one in the world did, but I do not remember that I ever told a willful lie.”
There pa.s.sed through Lord Arleigh's mind a wish that the d.u.c.h.ess of Hazlewood might have heard this avowal.
”I do not remember,” the man said again, ”that I have ever told a willful lie in my life. I will not begin now. You asked me if I was really guilty. Yes, I was--guilty just as my judges p.r.o.nounced me to be!”
For a few minutes Lord Arleigh was silent; the disappointment was almost greater than he could bear. He had antic.i.p.ated so much from this interview; and now by these deliberately spoken words his hopes were ended--he would never be able to take his beautiful young wife to his heart and home. The bitterness of the disappointment seemed almost greater than he could bear. He tried to recover himself, while Henry Dornham went on:
”The rich never have anything to do with the poor without harm comes of it. Why did they send me to the duke's house? Why did be try to patronize me? Why did he parade his gold and silver plate before my eyes?”
The pa.s.sion of his words seemed to inflame him.
”Why,” he continued angrily, should he eat from silver while others were without bread? Why should his wife wear diamonds while mine cried with hunger and cold? I saw how unjust it was. Who placed his foot on my neck? Who made him my master and tyrant, patronizing me with his 'my good fellow' this and the other? What right had he to such abundance while I had nothing?”
”That which was his,” said Lord Arleigh, bluntly, ”at least was not yours to take.”
”But I say it was! I helped myself before, and, if I were out of this place, having the chance, I would help myself again.”
”That would be equally criminal,” said Lord Arleigh, fearlessly and again Henry Dornham laughed his cynical laugh.
”It is too late in the day for me to talk over these matters,” said the convict. ”When I roamed in the woods as a free man, I had my own ideas; prison has not improved them. I shall never make a reformed convict--not even a decent ticket-of-leave man. So if you have any thought of reclaiming me, rid your mind of it at once.”
”It will be best to do so, I perceive,” observed Lord Arleigh. ”I had some little hope when I came in--I have none now.”
”You do not mean to say, though, that I am not to be any the better off for your visit?” cried the man. ”I do not know your name, but I can see what you are. Surely you will try to do something for me?”
”What can I do?” asked Lord Arleigh. ”If you had been innocent--even if there had been what they call extenuating circ.u.mstances--I would have spent a fortune in the endeavor to set you free; but your confession renders me powerless.”
”The only extenuating circ.u.mstance in the whole affair,” declared the man, after a pause, ”was that I wanted money, and took what I thought would bring it. So you would give a small fortune to clear me, eh?” he interrogated.
”Yes,” was the brief reply.
The man looked keenly at him.
”Then you must indeed have a strong motive. It is not for my own sake, I suppose?” A new idea occurred to him. A sudden smile curled his lip. ”I have it!” he said. ”You are in love with my--with pretty little Madaline, and you want to marry her! If you could make me out innocent, you would marry her; if you cannot--what then? Am I right?”