"Well, I think we did take care of you among us. Do you remember the pheasant, Mr. Graham?"
"Remember it! I should think so; and how I improved the occasion."
"Yes; you did improve fast enough. And the sea-kale, Mr. Graham.
Laws! the row I had with John Gardener about that! And, Mr. Graham, do you remember how a certain friend used to come and ask after you at the door? Dear, dear, dear! I nearly caught it about that."
But Graham in his present frame of mind could not well endure to discuss his remembrances on that subject with Mrs. Baker, so he good-humouredly pushed her out of the room, saying that the judge would be mad if he delayed.
"That"s true, too, Mr. Graham. And it won"t do for you to take up Mr.
Augustus"s tricks in the house yet; will it?" And then she left the room. "What does she mean by "yet"?" Felix said to himself as he went through the ceremony of dressing with all the haste in his power.
He was in the drawing-room almost within the fifteen minutes, and there he found none but the judge and his wife and daughter. He had at first expected to find Augustus there, but had been told by Mrs.
Baker that he was to come down on the following morning. His first greeting from Lady Staveley was something like that he had already received up stairs, only made in less exuberant language. He was congratulated on his speedy recovery and made welcome by a kind smile. Then he shook hands with Madeline, and as he did so he observed that the judge was at the trouble to turn away, so that he should not watch the greeting. This he did see, but into Madeline"s face he hardly ventured to look. He touched her hand, however, and said a word; and she also murmured something about his injury. "And now we"ll go to dinner," said the judge. "Give your arm that is not broken to Lady Staveley." And so the meeting was over. "Augustus will be in Alston to-morrow when the court is opened," said the judge.
"That is to say if he finds it possible to get up so soon; but to-day he had some engagements in town." The truth however was that the judge had chosen to be alone with Felix after dinner.
The dinner was very pleasant, but the judge talked for the whole party. Madeline hardly spoke at all, nor did Lady Staveley say much.
Felix managed to put in a few words occasionally, as it always becomes a good listener to do, but the brunt of the battle lay with the host. One thing Felix observed painfully,--that not a word was spoken about Lady Mason or Orley Farm. When he had been last there the judge had spoken of it openly before the whole party, expressing his opinion that she was a woman much injured; but now neither did he say anything nor did Lady Staveley. He would probably not have observed this had not a feeling crept upon him during the last fortnight, that that thorough conviction which men had felt as to her innocence was giving way. While the ladies were there, however, he did not himself allude to the subject.
When they had left the room and the door had been closed behind them, the judge began the campaign--began it, and as far as he was concerned, ended it in a very few minutes. "Graham," said he, "I am glad to see you."
"Thank you, judge," said he.
"Of course you know, and I know, what that amounts to now. My idea is that you acted as an honest man when you were last here. You are not a rich man--"
"Anything but that."
"And therefore I do not think it would have been well had you endeavoured to gain my daughter"s affections without speaking to me,--or to her mother." Judge Staveley always spoke of his wife as though she were an absolute part of himself. "She and I have discussed the matter now,--and you are at liberty to address yourself to Madeline if you please."
"My dear judge--"
"Of course you understand that I am not answering for her?"
"Oh, of course not."
"That"s your look out. You must fight your own battle there. What you are allowed to understand is this,--that her father and mother will give their consent to an engagement, if she finds that she can bring herself to give hers. If you are minded to ask her, you may do so."
"Of course I shall ask her."
"She will have five thousand pounds on her marriage, settled upon herself and her children,--and as much more when I die, settled in the same way. Now fill your gla.s.s." And in his own easy way he turned the subject round and began to talk about the late congress at Birmingham.
Felix felt that it was not open to him at the present moment to say anything further about Madeline; and though he was disappointed at this,--for he would have wished to go on talking about her all the evening--perhaps it was better for him. The judge would have said nothing further to encourage him, and he would have gradually been taught to think that his chance with Madeline was little, and then less. "He must have been a fool," my readers will say, "not to have known that Madeline was now his own." Probably. But then modest-minded young men are fools.
At last he contrived to bring the conversation round from the Birmingham congress to the affairs of his new client; and indeed he contrived to do so in spite of the judge, who was not particularly anxious to speak on the subject. "After all that we said and did at Birmingham, it is odd that I should so soon find myself joined with Mr. Furnival."
"Not at all odd. Of course you must take up your profession as others have taken it up before you. Very many young men dream of a Themis fit for Utopia. You have slept somewhat longer than others, and your dreams have been more vivid."
"And now I wake to find myself leagued with the Empson and Dudley of our latter-day law courts."
"Fie, Graham, fie. Do not allow yourself to speak in that tone of men whom you know to be zealous advocates, and whom you do not know to be dishonest opponents."
"It is they and such as they that make so many in these days feel the need of some Utopia,--as it was in the old days of our history. But I beg your pardon for nicknaming them, and certainly ought not to have done so in your presence."
"Well; if you repent yourself, and will be more charitable for the future, I will not tell of you."
"I have never yet even seen Mr. Chaffanbra.s.s in court," said Felix, after a pause.
"The more shame for you, never to have gone to the court in which he practises. A barrister intending to succeed at the common law bar cannot have too wide an experience in such matters."
"But then I fear that I am a barrister not intending to succeed."
"I am very sorry to hear it," said the judge. And then again the conversation flagged for a minute or two.
"Have you ever seen him at a country a.s.size town before, judge?"
asked Felix.
"Whom? Chaffanbra.s.s? I do not remember that I have."
"His coming down in this way is quite unusual, I take it."
"Rather so, I should say. The Old Bailey is his own ground."
"And why should they think it necessary in such a case as this to have recourse to such a proceeding?"
"It would be for me to ask you that, seeing that you are one of the counsel."
"Do you mean to say, judge, that between you and me you are unwilling to give an opinion on such a subject?"
"Well; you press me hard, and I think I may fairly say that I am unwilling. I would sooner discuss the matter with you after the verdict than before it. Come; we will go into the drawing-room."
There was not much in this. Indeed if it were properly looked at there was nothing in it. But nevertheless Graham, as he preceded the judge out of the dining-room, felt that his heart misgave him about Lady Mason. When first the matter had been spoken of at Noningsby, Judge Staveley had been fully convinced of Lady Mason"s innocence, and had felt no reserve in expressing his opinion. He had expressed such an opinion very openly. Why should he now affect so much reticence, seeing that the question had been raised in the presence of them two alone? It was he who had persuaded Graham to undertake this work, and now he went back from what he had done, and refused even to speak upon the subject. "It must be that he thinks she is guilty," said Graham to himself, as he lay down that night in bed.
But there had been something more for him to do before bedtime came.
He followed the judge into the drawing-room, and in five minutes perceived that his host had taken up a book with the honest intention of reading it. Some reference was made to him by his wife, but he showed at once that he did not regard Graham as company, and that he conceived himself to be ent.i.tled to enjoy the full luxury of home.
"Upon my word I don"t know," he answered, without taking his eye off the page. And then n.o.body spoke to him another word.
After another short interval Lady Staveley went to sleep. When Felix Graham had before been at Noningsby, she would have rebelled against nature with all her force rather than have slept while he was left to whisper what he would to her darling. But now he was authorised to whisper, and why should not Lady Staveley sleep if she wished it? She did sleep, and Felix was left alone with his love.
[Ill.u.s.tration: The Drawing-Room at Noningsby.]
And yet he was not altogether alone. He could not say to her those words which he was now bound to say; which he longed to say in order that he might know whether the next stage of his life was to be light or dark. There sat the judge, closely intent no doubt upon his book, but wide awake. There also sat Lady Staveley, fast asleep certainly; but with a wondrous power of hearing even in her sleep. And yet how was he to talk to his love unless he talked of love? He wished that the judge would help them to converse; he wished that some one else was there; he wished at last that he himself was away. Madeline sat perfectly tranquil st.i.tching a collar. Upon her there was inc.u.mbent no duty of doing anything beyond that. But he was in a measure bound to talk. Had he dared to do so he also would have taken up a book; but that he knew to be impossible.
"Your brother will be down to-morrow," he said at last.
"Yes; he is to go direct to Alston. He will be here in the evening,--to dinner."
"Ah, yes; I suppose we shall all be late to-morrow."
"Papa always is late when the a.s.sizes are going on," said Madeline.