Having thus summarily disposed of Gubbins, I turned my artillery against the attendant drover and the policeman. The first I indignantly denounced as either an accomplice or a tool: the second I smote more severely. Policemen are not popular in Hawick; and, knowing this, I contrived to blacken the Scottish Vidocq as a bloodhound.
But by far the finest flight of fancy in which I indulged was reserved for the peroration. I was not quite sure of the effect of my commentary on the evidence, and therefore thought it might be advisable to touch upon a national law.
"And now, gentlemen," said I, "a.s.suming for one moment that all my learned friend has said to you is true--that the sheep really belonged to this Gubbins, and were taken from him by M"Wilkin--let us calmly and deliberately consider how far such a proceeding can be construed into a crime. What has my unfortunate client done that he should be condemned by a jury of his countrymen? What he stands charged with is simply this--that he has prevented an Englishman from driving away the produce of our native hills. And is this a crime? It may be so, for aught I know, by statute; but sure I am, that in the intention, to which alone you must look, there lies a far deeper element of patriotism than of deliberate guilt. Think for one moment, gentlemen, of the annals of which we are so proud--of the ballads still chanted in the hall and in the hamlet--of the lonely graves and headstones that are scattered all along the surface of the southern muirs. Do not these annals tell us how the princes and the n.o.bles of the land were wont to think it neither crime nor degradation to march with their retainers across the Borders, and to harry with fire and sword the fields of Northumberland and Durham? Randolph and the Bruce have done it, and yet no one dares to attach the stigma of dishonour to their names. Do not our ballads tell how at Lammas-tide,
"The doughty Earl of Douglas rade Into England to fetch a prey?"
And who shall venture to impeach the honour of the hero who fell upon the field of Otterbourne? Need I remind you of those who have died in their country"s cause, and whose graves are still made the object of many a pious pilgrimage? Need I speak of Flodden, that woeful place, where the Flowers of the Forest were left lying in one ghastly heap around their king? Ah, gentlemen! have I touched you now? True, it was in the olden time that these things were done and celebrated; but remember this, that society may change its place, states and empires may rise and be consolidated, but patriotism still lives enduring and undying as of yore! And who shall dare to say that patriotism was not the motive of M"Wilkin? Who shall presume to a.n.a.lyse or to blame the instinct which may have driven him to the deed? Call him not a felon--call him rather a poet; for over his kindling imagination fell the mighty shadow of the past. Old thoughts, old feelings, old impulses, were burning in his soul. He saw in Gubbins, not the grazier, but the lawless spoiler of his country; and he rose, as a Borderer should, to vindicate the honour of his race. He may have been mistaken in what he did, but the motive, at least, was pure. Honour it then, gentlemen, for it is the same motive which is at all times the best safeguard of a nation"s independence; and do honour likewise to yourselves by p.r.o.nouncing a unanimous verdict of acquittal in favour of the prisoner at the bar!"
By the time I had finished this harangue, I was wrought up to such a pitch of enthusiasm, that I really considered M"Wilkin in the light of an extremely ill-used individual, and the tears stood in my eyes as I recapitulated the history of his wrongs. Several of the jury, too, began to get extremely excited, and looked as fierce as falcons when I reminded them of the field of Flodden. But my hopes were considerably damped when I heard the charge of his lordship. With all respect for the eminent senator who that day presided on the bench, I think he went rather too far when he designated my maiden-effort a rhapsody which could only be excused on account of the inexperience of the gentleman who uttered it. Pa.s.sing from that unpleasant style of stricture, he went _seriatim_ over all the crimes of M"Wilkin, and very distinctly indicated his opinion that a more consummate ruffian had seldom figured in the dock. When he concluded, however, there was a good deal of whispering in the jury-box, and at last the gentlemen of the a.s.size requested permission to retire.
"That was a fine flare-up of yours, Freddy," said Anthony Whaup, the only other counsel for the prisoners upon the circuit. "You came it rather strong, though, in the national line. I don"t think our venerable friend overhead half likes your ideas of international law."
"Why, yes--I confess he gave me a tolerable wigging. But what would you have me do? I must have said some thing."
"Oh, by Jove, your were perfectly right! I always make a point of speaking myself; and I can a.s.sure you that you did remarkably well. It was a novel view, but decidedly ingenious, and may lead to great results. If that fellow gets off, you may rely upon it there will be some bloodshed again upon the Border."
"And a jolly calendar, of course, for next circuit. I say, Anthony,--how many cases have you got?"
"Two thefts with habit and repute, a hamesucken, rather a good forgery, and an a.s.sault with intent to commit."
"Long?"
"Rather--but poor pay. I haven"t sacked more than nine guineas altogether. Gad!" continued Anthony, stretching himself, "this is slow work. I"d rather by a great deal be rowing on the ca.n.a.l."
"Hush! here come the jury."
They entered, took their seats, and each man in succession answered to his name. I stole a glance at M"Wilkin. He looked as leonine as ever, and kept winking perseveringly to the Hawickers.
"Now, gentlemen," said the clerk of court, "what is your verdict?"
The foreman rose.
"The jury, by a majority, find the charges against the prisoner NOT PROVEN."
"Hurrah!" shouted M"Wilkin, reckless of all authority. "Hurrah! I say--you counsellor in the wig--ye shanna want a sheep"s head thae three years, if there"s ane to be had on the Border!"
And in this way I gained my first acquittal.
CHAPTER III.
I found Strachan in his room with his face buried in the bed-clothes. He was kicking his legs as though he suffered under a violent fit of the toothache.
"I say, Tom, what"s the matter? Look up, man! Do you know I"ve got that scoundrel off?"
No answer.
"Tom, I say? Tom, you dunderhead--what do you mean by making an a.s.s of yourself this way? Get up, for shame, and answer me!"
Poor Strachan raised his head from the coverlet. His eyes were absolutely pink, and his cheeks of the tint of a lemon.
"O Fred, Fred!" said he with a series of interjectional gasps, "I am the most unfortunate wretch in the universe. All the hopes I had formerly cherished are blighted at once in the bud! She is gone, my friend--gone away from me, and, alas! I fear, for ever!"
"The deuce she has! and how?"
"Oh what madness tempted me to lead her to the court?--what infatuation it was to expose those angelic features to the risk of recognition! Who that ever saw those dove-like eyes could forget them?"
"I have no objection to the eyes--they were really very pa.s.sable. But who twigged her?"
"An emissary of her father"s--that odious miscreant who was giving evidence at the trial."
"The policeman? Whew! Tom!--I don"t like that."
"He was formerly the land-steward of the Viscount;--a callous, cruel wretch, who was more than suspected of having made away with his wife."
"And did he recognise her?"
"Dorothea says that she felt fascinated by the glitter of his cold grey eye. A shuddering sensation pa.s.sed through her frame, just as the poor warbler of the woods quivers at the approach of the rattle-snake. A dark mist gathered before her sight, and she saw no more until she awoke to consciousness within my arms."
"Very pretty work, truly! And what then?"
"In great agitation, she told me that she durst tarry no longer here.
She was certain that the officer would make it his business to track her, and communicate her hiding-place to her family; and she shook with horror when she thought of the odious Israelitish bridegroom. "The caverns of the deep green sea--the high Tarpeian rock--the Leucadian cliff of Sappho," she said, "all would be preferable to that! And yet, O Thomas, to think that we should have met so suddenly, and that to part for ever!" "Pon my soul, Fred, I am the most miserable of created beings."
"Why, what on earth has become of her?"
"Gone--and I don"t know whither. She would not even apprise the Bailie of her departure, lest she might leave some clue for discovery. She desired me to see him, to thank him, and to pay him for her,--all of which I promised to do. With one kiss--one deep, burning, agonised kiss--which I shall carry with me to my grave--she tore herself away, sprang into the postchaise, and in another moment was lost to me for ever!"
"And my ten pounds?" said I, in a tone of considerable emotion.
"Would you have had me think twice," asked Strachan indignantly, "before I tendered my a.s.sistance to a forlorn angel in distress, even though she possessed no deeper claims on my sympathy? I thought, Frederick, you had more chivalry in your nature. You need not be uneasy about that trifle; I shall be in funds some time about Christmas."
"Humph! I thought it was a P. P. transaction, but no matter. And is this all the clue you have got to the future residence of the lady?"
"No,--she is to write me from the nearest post-town. You will see, Fred, when the letter arrives, how well worthy she is of my adoration."
I have found, by long experience, that it is no use remonstrating with a man who is head-over-ears in love. The tender pa.s.sion affects us differently, according to our const.i.tutions. One set of fellows, who are generally the pleasantest, seldom get beyond the length of flirtation.
They are always at it, but constantly changing, and therefore manage to get through a tolerable catalogue of attachments before they are finally brought to book. Such men are quite able to take care of themselves, and require but little admonition. You no doubt hear them now and then abused for trifling with the affections of young women--as if the latter had themselves the slightest remorse in playing precisely the same game!--but in most cases such censure is undeserved, for they are quite as much in earnest as their neighbours, so long as the impulse lasts.
The true explanation is, that they have survived their first pa.s.sion, and that their faith is somewhat shaken in the boyish creed of the absolute perfectibility of woman. The great disappointment of life does not make them misanthropes--but it forces them to caution, and to a closer appreciation of character than is usually undertaken in the first instance. They have become, perhaps, more selfish--certainly more suspicious, and though often on the verge of a proposal, they never commit themselves without an extreme degree of deliberation.
Another set seem designed by nature to be the absolute victims of woman.
Whenever they fall in love, they do it with an earnestness and an obstinacy which is actually appalling. The adored object of their affections can twine them round her finger, quarrel with them, cheat them, caricature them, or flirt with others, without the least risk of severing the triple cord of attachment. They become as tame as poodle-dogs, will submit patiently to any manner of cruelty or caprice, and in fact seem rather to be grateful for such treatment than otherwise. Clever women usually contrive to secure a captive of this kind. He is useful to them in a hundred ways, never interferes with their schemes, and, if the worst comes to the worst, they can always fall back upon him as a _pis-aller_.
My friend Tom Strachan belonged decidedly to this latter section. Mary Rivers, a remarkably clever and very showy girl, but as arrant a flirt as ever wore rosebud in her bosom, had engrossed the whole of his heart before he reached the reflecting age of twenty, and kept him for nearly five years in a state of uncomplaining bondage. Not that I believe she ever cared about him. Tom was as poor as a church-mouse, and had nothing on earth to look to except the fruits of his professional industry, which, judging from all appearances, would be a long time indeed in ripening. Mary was not the sort of person to put up with love in a cottage, even had Tom"s circ.u.mstances been adequate to defray the rent of a tenement of that description: she had a vivid appreciation, not only of the substantials but of the higher luxuries of existence. But her vanity was flattered at having in her train at least one devoted dangler, whom she could play off, whenever opportunity required, against some more valuable admirer. Besides, Strachan was a man of family, tall, good-looking, and unquestionably clever in his way: he also danced the polka well, and was useful in the ball-room or the picnic. So Mary Rivers kept him on in a kind of blissful dream, just sunning him sufficiently with her smiles to make him believe that he was beloved, but never allowing matters to go so far as to lead to the report that they were engaged. Tom asked for nothing more. He was quite contented to indulge for years in a dream of future bliss, and wrote during the interval a great many more sonnets than summonses. Unfortunately sonnets don"t pay well, so that his worldly affairs did not progress at any remarkable ratio. And he only awoke to a sense of his real situation, when Miss Rivers, having picked a quarrel with him one day in the Zoological Gardens, announced on the next to her friends that she had accepted the hand of a bilious East India merchant.
Tom made an awful row about it--grew as attenuated and brown as an eel--and garnished his conversation with several significant hints about suicide. He was, however, saved from that ghastly alternative by being drafted into a Rowing Club, who plied their gondolas daily on the Union Ca.n.a.l. Hard exercise, beer, and pulling had their usual sanatory effect, and Tom gradually recovered his health, if not his spirits.