Part 26 (1/2)

”I do.”

”Well, Mr. Henry Thorneycroft or Allerton, was at the time this marriage took place, on a visit to that gentleman; and I myself saw the bridegroom, whom I had united a fortnight previously in Swindon church, walking arm-and-arm with Mr. Angerstein in Sydney Gardens, Bath. I was at some little distance, but I recognized both distinctly, and bowed. Mr.

Angerstein returned my salutation, and he recollects the circ.u.mstance distinctly. The gentleman walking with him in the uniform of the Gloucesters.h.i.+re Yeomanry was, Mr. Angerstein is prepared to depose, Mr.

Henry Thorneycroft or Allerton.”

”You waste time, reverend sir,” said Mr. Flint with an affectation of firmness and unconcern he was, I knew, far from feeling. ”We are the attorneys of Mrs. Rosamond Allerton, and shall, I dare say, if you push us to it, be able to tear this ingeniously-colored cobweb of yours to shreds. If you determine on going to law, your solicitor can serve us; we will enter an appearance, and our client will be spared unnecessary annoyance.”

They were about to leave, when, as ill-luck would have it, one of the clerks who, deceived by the momentary silence, and from not having been at home when the unwelcome visitors arrived, believed we were disengaged, opened the door, and admitted Mrs. Rosamond Allerton and her aunt, Miss Stewart. Before we could interpose with a word, the Widow Thorneycroft burst out with the whole story in a torrent of exultant Volubility that it was impossible to check or restrain.

For awhile contemptuous incredulity, indignant scorn, upheld the a.s.sailed lady; but as proof after proof was hurled at her, reinforced by the grave soberness of the clergyman and the weeping sympathy of the young woman, her firmness gave way, and she swooned in her aunt's arms. We should have more peremptorily interfered but for our unfortunate client's deprecatory gestures. She seemed determined to hear the worst at once. Now, however, we had the office cleared of the intruders without much ceremony and, as soon as the horror-stricken lady was sufficiently recovered, she was conducted to her carriage, and after arranging for an early interview on the morrow, was driven off.

I found our interesting, and, I feared, deeply-injured client much recovered from the shock which on the previous day had overwhelmed her; and although exceedingly pale--l.u.s.trously so, as polished Parian marble--and still painfully agitated, there was hope, almost confidence, in her eye and tone.

”There is some terrible misapprehension in this frightful affair, Mr.

Sharp,” she began. ”Henry, my husband, was utterly incapable of a mean or dishonest act, much less of such utter baseness as this of which he is accused. They also say, do they not,” she continued, with a smile of haughty contempt, ”that he robbed the young woman of her poor dowry--some eight hundred pounds? A proper story!”

”That, I confess, from what little I know of Mr. Henry Thorneycroft, stamps the whole affair as a fabrication; and yet the Reverend Mr.

Wishart--a gentleman of high character, I understand--is very positive.

The young woman, too, appeared truthful and sincere.”

”Yes--it cannot be denied. Let me say also--for it is best to look at the subject on its darkest side--I find, on looking over my letters, that my husband was staying with Mr. Angerstein at the time stated. He was also at that period in the Gloucesters.h.i.+re Yeomanry. I gave William Martin, but the other day, a suit of his regimentals very little the worse for wear.”

”You forget to state, Rosamond,” said Miss Stewart, who was sitting beside her niece, ”that Martin, who was with his young master at Bath, is willing to make oath that no such marriage took place as a.s.serted, at Swindon church.”

”That alone would, I fear, my good madam, very little avail. Can I see William Martin?”

”Certainly.” The bell was rung, and the necessary order given.

”This Martin is much changed for the better, I hear?”

”O yes, entirely so,” said Miss Stewart. ”He is also exceedingly attached to us all, the children especially; and his grief and anger, when informed of what had occurred, thoroughly attest his faithfulness and sincerity.”

Martin entered, and was, I thought, somewhat confused by my apparently unexpected presence. A look at his face and head dissipated a half-suspicion that had arisen in both Flint's mind and my own.

I asked him a few questions relative to the sojourn of his master at Bath, and then said, ”I wish you to go with me and Bee this Maria Emsbury.”

As I spoke, something seemed to attract Martin's attention in the street, and suddenly turning round, his arm swept a silver pastil-stand off the table. He stooped down to gather up the dispersed pastils, and as he did so, said, in answer to my request, ”that he had not the slightest objection to do so.”

”That being the case, we will set off at once, as she and her friends are probably at the office by this time. They are desirous of settling the matter off-hand,” I added with a smile, addressing Mrs. Allerton, ”and avoiding, if possible, the delays and uncertainties of the law.”

As I antic.i.p.ated, the formidable trio were with Mr. Flint. I introduced Martin, and as I did so, watched, with an anxiety I could hardly have given a reason for, the effect of his appearance upon the young woman. I observed nothing. He was evidently an utter stranger to her, although, from the involuntary flush which crossed his features, it occurred to me that he was in some way an accomplice with his deceased master in the cruel and infamous crime which had, I strongly feared, been perpetrated.

”Was this person present at your marriage?” I asked.

”Certainly not. But I think--now I look at him--that I have seen him somewhere--about Swindon, it must have been.”

William Martin mumbled out that he had never been in Swindon; neither, he was sure, had his master.

”What is that?” said the girl, looking sharply up, and suddenly coloring--”What is that?”