Joseph Wilmot, or, The Memoirs of a Man-Servant — page 344: what you’re looking at

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“You may believe me or not, Sir Matthew Heseltine, as you think fit,” was my answer: “but if it were the last word I had to speak in this life, I can solemnly declare that I had no motive beyond that which I have described. There is something on the part of the unhappy couple which excites one’s sympathy, and makes one par- tially forget their misdeeds.” “Pretty morality! very pretty indeed!” ex- claimed Sir Matthew. “And now be off to bed with you at once, sir.” I turned as I opened the door to wish Sir Mat- thew “good night:” he did not answer me—but was lying back in his chair gazing after me in his wonted manner, and with his mouth drawn in, —so that it was scarcely possible to form an opinion as to the real sentiments which he enter- tained of my conduct. CHAPTER LXI. THE TRIAL. THE trial of the highwayman produced a consider- able sensation in Reading; and Mrs. Tibenham, the charwoman, who came to the house at an early hour in the morning—she being engaged for a day’s work,—brought the intelligence that crowds were already flocking towards the entrance of the court and the doors of the prison, to obtain a view of the delinquent when the hour should come for him to be conveyed into the presence of the judge. Immediately after breakfast, Sir Matthew Heseltine summoned me into his presence; and in a harsh and abrupt manner, he gave me to under- stand “that he neither wanted me to read to him nor to write for him all this day, as he had some- thing better to do than to be pestered with my presence.” This intimation was as much as to give me to understand that my time was my own; and I could not help thinking that his conduct was for the purpose of affording me an opportunity to go and hear the trial, if such were my wish— but for fear lest I should penetrate his really well-meant design, he had endeavoured to conceal it beneath a display of a harsher demeanour and of more taunting language than it was even his wont to adopt. I however said nothing—but left the room; and having done a few little things for Mrs. Hodgson, I took a volume up into my own chamber and sat down to read. As I was descending to the kitchen at one o'clock to dinner, Sir Matthew screeched out from the library, ordering me to come in. “Well, where have you been all the morning ?” he demanded, fixing his horrid speaking eyes upon me. “In my own room, sir—reading a book,” was the response. “The History of celebrated Highwaymen, ora volume of the Newgate Calendar, ll be bound!” he ejaculated. | “No, sir: here is the book. It is one which 1 Grooge mem’ took the liberty of borrowing from your shelves.” He snatched it instantly out of my hand; and glancing at the title-page thrust it as rudely back upon me, exclaiming, “ Natural History indeed !— what should you know about Natural History? | JOSEPH WILMOT; OR, THE MEMOIRS OF A MAN-SERVANT. sol And how is it you have not been to gratify your morbid feelings by witnessing the triai? Come, young man, no lies—but let us have the truth for once in a way.” “TI did not consider it seemly, sir,” I answered, “to be present at the painful ordeal through which a person whom I had known is now being dragged. I reflected also that if he himself beheld one amongst the curious spectators with whom he had under very different circumstances been acquainted, if would add to his own humiliation and bitter sense of shame. The poor wife too may be present: she may be there to sustain his fortitude—and she would not like to meet the eyes of an acquaint- ance.” “Oh, it’s all very fine!” ejaculated Sir Matthew, regarding me with his wonted: scrutiny: “but how do I know that you are telling me the truth ?” “Of course I cannot convince you, sir :’—and then I added, “ Perhaps you wanted me to be pre- sent at the trial?” “T wanted you to be present, you young rascal ?” vociferated Sir Matthew. “Be off with you—and get your dinner. Be off, I say!” I quitted his presence; and after dinner re- entered the library to inquire whether the Baronet would not take his usual walk. He yelled forth a shrill “No!” and then desired me to go and take a walk by myself, as it was ridiculous for a young man of my age to mope in-doors all day. I said nothing; but instead of obeying him, ascended again to my chamber, and endeavoured to while away the time with the book: I did not choose to go out and walk, for fear lest he should think that a morbid curiosity had at length got the better of me and had irresistibly led my footsteps to the tri- bunal. Nevertheless, I felt most anxious with re- gard to the trial,—wondering whether it were over —and, if so, longing to ascertain what the sen- tence was. At five o’clock I descended to the kitchen; and Mrs. Tibenham, the charwoman, re- entered the house at the same moment,—she having been home, as she alleged, to see that “her dear childers” had got their tea: but as there was an odour of gin floating around her, I had no doubt she had called at a wine-vaults on her way,—even if her journey had extended any farther than such half-way house at all. “ Well, Mrs. Hodgson, mem,” she said with a look of mysterious confidence, “it’s all over—and there were such a scene in court, as I have just heerd tell at the Grapes, where I dropped in quite permiscuous, bekase I seed a neighbour of mine — Mrs. Grooge, which keeps the mangle—just passing in at the door to get her evenin’ quartern. And they wos all a talkin’ of it in at the Grapes ; and Mr. Sankey the landlord had been one of the— what-d’ye-call-’em the joory.” “Well, Mrs. Tibenham,” I asked eagerly, “ and what is the result ?” * Deary me, Joseph, how you do flabbergast one with the harum-scarum way in whica you puta kevestion. As I says to Mrs. Grooge, says I, ‘ Mrs. >> “Oh, hang Mrs. Grooge!” I ejaculated im- patiently. “ What is the result ?” “| beg your parding, sir,” cried Mrs. Tibenham, bridling up with a mighty wrathful air: “ but did you say as how you should like to see my friend a TE en a ae ee oes Gene ee ———————EEE Conn Goo SS (C@) im