Part 81 (1/2)
”Ay, to your friends; but not to the Commissioners of Lunacy. Not in this house, any way.”
”G.o.d bless you!” cried Alfred impetuously. ”You are my benefactor; you are an honest fellow; give me your hand.”
”Well, why not? Only you mustn't excite yourself. Take it easy.”
(Formula.)
”Oh, no cant among friends!” said Alfred: ”wouldn't you be excited at the hope of getting out of prison?”
”Well, I don't know but I might. Bound I am as sick of it as you are.”
Alfred got paper and sketched the letter on which so much depended.
It took him six hours. He tore up two; he cooled down the third, and condensed it severely: by this means, after much thought, he produced a close and telling composition. He also weeded it of every trait and every term he had observed in mad people's talk, or the letters they had shown him. So there was no incoherency, no heat, no prolixity, no ”spies,” no ”conspiracy,” no italics. A simple, honest, earnest story, with bitter truth stamped on every line; a sober, strong appeal from a sore heart but hard head to the arbiters of his fate.
To the best of my belief no madman, however slightly touched, or however cunning, ever wrote a letter so gentle yet strong, so earnest yet calm, so short yet full, and withal so lucid and cleanly jointed as this was.
And I am no contemptible judge; for I have acc.u.mulated during the last few years a large collection of letters from persons deranged in various degrees, and studied them minutely, more minutely than most Psychologicals study anything but Pounds, s.h.i.+llings, and Verbiage.
The letter went, and he hoped but scarcely expected an answer by return of post. It did not come. He said to his heart, ”Be still;” and waited.
Another day went by; and another: he gnawed his heart and waited: he pined, and waited on. The Secret Tribunal, which was all a shallow legislature had left him, ”took it easy.” Secret Tribunals always do.
But, while the victim-suitor longed and pined and languished for one sound from the voice of Justice and Humanity, and while the Secret Tribunal, not being in prison itself all this time, ”took it easy,”
events occurred at Barkington that bade fair to throw open the prison doors and bring father and son, bride and bridegroom, together again under one roof.
But at what a price.
CHAPTER x.x.xV
AT sight of Sampson's placard Mr. Hardie was seized with a tremor that suspended the razor in mid air: he opened the window, and glared at the doctor's notice.
At this moment he himself was a picture: not unlike those half cleaned portraits the picture restorers hang out as specimens of their art.
”Insolent interfering fool,” he muttered, and began to walk the room in agitation. After a while he made a strong effort, shaved the other half, and dressed slowly, thinking hard all the time. The result was, he went out before breakfast (which he had not done for years), and visited Mr.
Baker--for what purpose has been already shown.
On his return, Jane was waiting breakfast. The first word to him was: ”Papa, have you seen?”
”What, the Reward!” said he indifferently. ”Yes, I noticed it at our door as I came home.”
Jane said it was a very improper and most indelicate interference in their affairs, and went on to say with heightened colour: ”I have just told Peggy to take it down.
”Not for the world!” cried Mr. Hardie, losing all his calmness real or feigned; and he rang the bell hastily. On Peggy's appearing, he said anxiously, ”I do not wish that Notice interfered with.”
”I shouldn't think of touching it without your order, sir,” said she quietly, and shot him a feline glance from under her pale lashes.
Jane coloured, and looked a little mortified: but on Peggy's retiring, Mr. Hardie explained that, whether judicious or not, it was a friendly act of Dr. Sampson's; and to pull down his notice would look like siding with the boy against those he had injured: ”Besides,” said he, ”why should you and I burk inquiry? Ill as he has used me, I am his father, and not altogether without anxiety. Suppose those doctors should be right about him, you know?”
Jane had for some time been longing to call at Albion Villa and sympathise with her friend; and now curiosity was superadded: she burned to know whether the Dodds knew of or approved this placard. She asked her father whether he thought she could go there with propriety. ”Why not?” said he cheerfully, and with a.s.sumed carelessness.