Force and Fraud (22 page)

Mr Roberts re-entered, accompanied by Andrew Ross, and followed by a stranger, holding a large dog by the collar. The animal seemed more accustomed to the lonely forest than to a crowded court, for he barked rather savagely; but then looked round him and, with one bound, leapt into the dock and licked the hands of the prisoner.

Two or three people were upset, and so was a considerable amount of legal etiquette – as the stranger addressed the judge, jury, counsel, and crowd promiscuously; and to little purpose it was supposed, for he spoke in a tongue unknown to any of those learned gentleman, versed as they might be in the classics.

But Andrew Ross, interpreting his native Gaelic, exclaimed, “It's Evan Gillispie, the bushman; an' he'll take his Bible oath that he crossed the bit o' plain wi' the puir lad, an hour or mair afore the laird had left Mount Alpin!”

Several persons in court, on being asked if they understood Gaelic, answered in the affirmative; and it was evident that there could have been no previously arranged plot between the stranger and the old shepherd.

The bushman was therefore placed in the witness box, duly sworn, and then allowed to give his evidence. In his own language he admitted the statement of Herbert, as to the assistance he had given him: the employment of the linen to bind his wound – showing at the same time another piece that exactly corresponded; saying that the sponge had been used to wipe away the first stream of blood, and the knife to cut through the hem of the handkerchief.

On being cross-examined, he said: that, having parted with the prisoner, he himself struck into another track, and soon left the district, crossing the boundaries of the colony; that he had not heard of the murder for a considerable time after it occurred – in fact, not until the advertisement in Gaelic was shown to him. Then, although engaged to accompany an exploring party towards the interior, he had hastened to give his evidence in favour of the prisoner.

All this while, the dog – which the police in vain had tried to remove from the dock – was giving
his
testimony of gratitude to the man whose timely aid had perhaps saved the life of his master; and half the women in the court were crying their eyes out.

The late arrival of the witness interfered with the usual routine and formality of the proceedings. But, after a little delay, order was once more restored, the judge summed up, and the jury retired.

It was supposed they would almost instantly return; for, notwithstanding the incident of the handkerchief – which still remained unaccounted for – opinion had veered round, and Herbert Lindsey was considered to be innocent.

Great impatience was manifested therefore as the jury lingered so long; but amongst them was a gentleman, whose head
did require punching
. A certain Mr Oakenhead, insisted on going through a repetition of the evidence, maintaining that as one man had been murdered, another ought to be hanged; indeed, he seemed more anxious to appease the spirit of the
dead
than to do justice to the
living.

At length, however, he
did
acquiesce in the opinion of the other gentlemen, and the jury re-entered. There was a moment of breathless suspense, but it was succeeded by the most heartfelt joy, as the foreman pronounced the verdict of “Not Guilty!”

Still greater was the satisfaction when the judge, addressing Lindsey, told him that he would leave the court without a stain on his character.

As his friends crowded around him to offer their congratulations, he expressed his gratitude for their exertions.

“Thank you, thank you all,” he exclaimed and then, turning to Pierce Silverton, he added, “And Flora! Oh, where is Flora?”

“Go ahead, and I'll show you where she is,” said Mr Roberts, answering the question that Lindsey had addressed to Silverton. And, leaving the courthouse together, they hastened to the
Royal Victorian
.

Flora had heard the shout that echoed the verdict, and knew
he
was safe, but her long-sustained spirit now gave way, and she fell weeping into his arms. Some joys, like some sorrows, are too sacred for the public gaze; therefore, we will not intrude our presence on the lovers; but, if we visit their friends, we shall find that the satisfaction was general.

And now it transpired that, for many miles around, persons had been on the look-out, hoping (though almost against hope) that the bushman might make his appearance. And when at last he did so – almost on the spot where Herbert had formerly met him – he was accosted by the brother-in-law of Mrs Roberts, and driven by him towards the scene of the trial, in the most tearing American fashion ever before witnessed. Arrived at the outskirts of the town, the rattling dusty vehicle excited attention, and the cause
of so
much speed explained by the announcement: “Another witness – the bushman!”

And now the honest fellow is consigned to the care of old Andrew and Harry Saunders, and very joyful they all are together. Mrs Roberts is laughing, crying, chattering, and threatening what she will do to
that
varmint O'Twig; though he does be a Pea Hen!
The good-hearted American is rejoicing that such a fine young fellow has got out of that
tarnation fix
. And Mr Philip Garlick is running about engaging all his acquaintance to get up a dinner in honour of the prisoner's release – but that is to be held at
The Southern Cross
.

And where is Pierce Silverton? For Herbert, when he asked about Flora, did not await the reply. In fact Pierce heard him not, as he fell in a dead swoon on the floor! Such might have been expected from Flora, or indeed, from any woman in the courthouse far less deeply interested in the result of the trial; but a
man
has no right to faint unless from physical exhaustion. Doubtless this was the cause, as the court had been oppressively hot, and poor Silverton was so extremely delicate! They brought him water, smelling salts, and eau de Cologne, and called him ‘a great muff' but he soon recovered; and then fervently exclaimed, “Thank God! Thank God! He
is
saved!”

“What a sympathising friend!”

“What a tender heart!”

“What deep feeling!” exclaimed the bystanders, as Pierce Silverton, leaning on the arm of a great powerful fellow, left the courthouse. He retired to his own room – (it was in the
Royal Victorian
– and there Herbert, on hearing of his friend's indisposition, immediately hastened, saying, “My dear Pierce, what is all this! You are too kind, too sensitive!”

And again Pierce Silverton thanked God who had ordered the events of the day.

“Never saw such a nervous fellow in all my life!” said Phil, who was called in to administer
his
aid; he suggested a stimulant – in fact two or three. But, as Mr Silverton decidedly objected to that sort of treatment, he went on the other tack, and composed a sedative.
This
Mr Silverton drank, and said he thought he could sleep, upon which his friends retired.

When Mr Speedy (who, in consequence of the crowded state of the hotel, shared the same room with Mr Silverton) entered some time later, he was alarmed by a strange gurgling sound emanating from the throat of the sleeper. Whether Mr Garlick had not been very careful in the preparation of his drugs or the patient repeated the dose too frequently was not known; for though the phial was found empty it had also apparently been upset.

“Halloo, come here, Garlick! What the deuce is the matter with this fellow?” he roared out – and just in time – for had not Silverton been immediately aroused, he would never have woke again.

It now and then happens that people become extremely sympathising; that human nature seems to shake off the selfishness and apathy that have clogged its better part, to feel for the serious affections of others!

And so it happened on this occasion; public interest having been excited for Herbert Lindsey, now that he was safe, perhaps required another object, and therefore turned to the kind-hearted, interesting young man, who felt so deeply for the welfare of his friend. It is very certain that Mr Silverton ran no risk of dying for want of either sympathy or attention.

Flora, who owed him so deep a debt of gratitude, sent Herbert from her side to give him assistance; Bessie Garlick, who hoped to take care of him for life, ran screaming about, as if to convince people how unfit she was for such a duty; and Mrs Roberts, who actually took him in hand, saved his life by the means which, under some circumstances, have been extremely injurious – keeping him awake with talking. At the end of two days he was almost well again, and Mr Philip Garlick, was relieved of the terrible apprehension that
his
heedlessness might have cost the life of a friend.

And now, those whom the excitement of the trial had drawn to that town, dispersed, and returned to their different homes. Herbert Lindsey was informed of McAlpin's will, which clearly stated that if Flora became
his
wife, she would forfeit all claim to her father's wealth; whereas, if on the contrary, she espoused Silverton, she might enjoy all the rights and privileges of an heiress; likewise of the middle course – allotting her a portion if she married either some indifferent person or nobody at all.

Herbert then said, “Flora, you are free; I will not urge you to fulfil the contract existing between us.”

But the use Flora made of her liberty was to resign it again; a proceeding which caused her lover to look so proudly triumphant that she, probably thinking it would not
quite do
to let him understand the extent of his power, said “she did not intend to marry him directly”.

And then, Herbert, who a minute before had offered to give her up altogether, looked disappointed, and asked in that low murmuring tone, half of doubt, half of sorrow, ‘What! No?”

“No,” said Flora. “it would not look well after the very decided part I have taken. It would seem as if– as if I was quite as anxious to be married as to save your life.”

“If you don't intend to marry me, Flora, it would have been quite as well
not
to have saved my life.”

Upon which Flora coquetted as if to illustrate the truth of the Poet's verse:

 

“O woman, in our hours of ease

Uncertain, coy, and hard to please.”

At length, it was arranged that the marriage should not take place till a year after her father's death. And it now became necessary to form some plan for the future, as the property Flora inherited from her mother had been greatly diminished by law costs, and as it will readily be understood, Lindsey's funds were not increased by three months' idleness.

Where then was compensation for an impoverished exchequer – for unworthy suspicions, for the insult of a committal, for tedious imprisonment? Where? But waiting
that
reward with which Heavenly justice requites earthly wrong.

But the lovers are content to wait for better times; they are both young, hopeful, and confident of each other's truth. There is no one to forbid their marriage; and so, willing to accept the penalty of narrow means, they quietly and simply discuss their plans for the future. Herbert will only be too happy to abandon his wandering habits; and Flora, after having played the heroine with some success, to retire into the more natural position of domestic life. The likeness to her stern father now seems to have faded away, and her countenance again resumes the expression of her mother's gentle face.

Pierce Silverton, the mutual friend, is admitted to their conferences. Nay, he is
invited,
and how can he resist the request of Herbert, or the pleading eyes of Flora? She seems to ignore his love for her; though it would be indelicate to allude to it – it might render Herbert uneasy, as well as embarrass the position of all parties. And then, she tries to think:
there may be nothing in it after all.

Herbert Lindsey is not a man of great observation. Artists and poets live so much in a world of their own that common events which attract the intelligence of inferior intelligence, are apt to escape
their
notice altogether. But Silverton, being on his guard in the presence of his friend, the fleeting changes of colour and expression which pass over his face are naturally attributed to delicate health.

Moreover, the character of Lindsey is so unsuspecting. He has such reliance on mankind in general, and the deep interest so lately manifested in his welfare (an instance of nature acting under a generous impulse) has also aided to paint poor humanity in glowing colours. But if he is thus favourably disposed towards society at large, how much more must he be so towards his own tried and trusted friend, and the friend of Flora; the man who endangered his own health by such constant exertions; the man who submitted to censure for having espoused the cause of a suspected murderer!

Herbert Lindsey could not therefore imagine that Pierce Silverton would indulge in the vain hope of winning the affections of Flora; and if a passing thought that the frequent presence of a lovely girl
might
inspire him with a passion for her,
honour
would undoubtedly soon overcome the temptation, and Pierce Silverton prove himself to be a sincere and disinterested friend.

If, when under the influence of sorrow and disappointment, we are led to regard everything
en noir,
we are not the less induced by happiness and content to view surrounding objects
en couleur de rose.
And it was thus that pleasure, hope, and gratitude aided the sanguine disposition of Herbert Lindsey in picturing the scene where Flora dwelt as a paradise, and her friends as almost divine. His newly recovered liberty also lent another charm to existence, and led him to discover new beauties in inanimate nature. With what pleasure he again resumed his professional labours, adding one sketch to another; and when not disposed for landscape drawing, he would turn to portraiture – and sometimes, by way of amusement, to caricature – a fertile imagination and a good memory helping to fill out scenes that had fleeted away. Thus, the courthouse, although at the time of the trial invested with so much terror, now furnished several groups – humorous, as well as severe; gay, as well as grave. Here were barristers, in their gowns and wigs; there bushmen, in shooting jackets and Napoleon boots – and all relieved by a background of eager faces.