CHAPTER XXXIX.
Lord Ashborough's servant found him pale and exhausted; for the first energy of anger had passed away, and the languor which it leaves behind had taken possession of a frame already weakened by an organic disease, the attacks of which had lately been more frequent and severe than they had ever proved before.
"Well!" said the earl, as the man entered--"Have you been to the prison!"
"I sent Johnstone, my lord," replied the valet. "I thought your lordship might want me."
"Well, well!" cried the earl, impatiently. "What does Johnstone say!"
"The governor sends his respects, my lord," answered the valet; "and although it is past the hour, he will of course admit your lordship, especially as the man has asked several times, he says, whether you had arrived or not."
"Order the carriage!" said the earl. "But stay--is it far to the prison!"
"Not two hundred yards," replied the servant; and Lord Ashborough declared he would walk thither. The valet, however, took the liberty of remonstrating, with that tender interest in his master's health which he thought might add two or three hundred pounds to the legacy he firmly expected to find in the earl's will. "I hope you will remember, my lord, that you are not well. Sir Henry said you were not to make any great exertion, or take too much exercise; and your lordship is looking very pale to-night."
"I dare say I do," answered the earl. "However, I must go. Give me my cloak, Peregrine; and call Johnstone to show me the way."
The valet, of course, made no farther opposition; and Lord Ashborough was soon on his way to the county jail, with a footman lighting him on--for the town was very dark--and with a most fervent wish in his heart that the felon he was going to see might place it in his power to fix at least one damning spot of suspicion on the name of Delaware. The governor of the prison received him with deep respect; and doors opened, and keys turned, for the Earl of Ashborough, throughout the long passages and chilly courts of the county jail.
"We have given this man every convenience in our power," said the governor, as he led Lord Ashborough along toward the condemned cells, "because he seemed to be a person of superior mind; and he assured the sheriff so earnestly, that he had something to communicate to your lordship, which might probably influence his majesty in regard to his fate, that it was thought indispensable to trouble your lordship on the occasion."
"Pray, has he seen Mr. Beauchamp since his condemnation?" demanded the earl.
"No, sir! Nor has he expressed any wish to do so," answered the governor; "but the sheriff thought it best to consult that gentleman ere he troubled you. This is the cell, my lord. Here, Nixon, open the door. I will attend your lordship's return in the waiting-room; and the turnkey will be at the door when you wish to come out of the cell. Mr. Harding," he added, as the door was opened, "here is the Earl of Ashborough kindly come to see you. Stand away from the door, sirs," continued the governor, to two of his satellites, "and leave the prisoner to speak with the earl at liberty."
The culprit rose as Lord Ashborough entered, looking somewhat annoyed, however, at the noise made by his fetters, as he did so. He was composed and calm as usual; but the hollow eye, and sunken cheek, betrayed the secret of the heart within; and showed that his stoicism--as all stoicism probably ever has been--was all on the surface.
"Your lordship is very kind," he said, in a quiet, tranquil tone; "to attend so promptly to my request."
"The information sent me by the sheriff," replied the earl, "made me hold it as a duty to come without loss of time. But, let me know, what have you to communicate to me?"
"I have first to make a request, my lord," answered Harding, who knew Lord Ashborough far better than Lord Ashborough knew himself, and therefore counted his expressions in regard to duty, &c., at exactly their true value.
"When you have granted or denied my petition, I will tell you what I have farther to communicate."
"And pray, what may your petition be!" asked the earl. "I must not waste time in many words, sir--for it is short."
"No one should know that better than myself, my lord," replied the prisoner; "but my petition is simply, that you would personally apply to his majesty for my pardon."
The earl was surprised; but not so much as might have been expected; for he anticipated some discovery which might give the culprit a claim to mercy. "Your request is a most extraordinary one, my good friend," he replied, "considering the evidence which has been brought against you. Nevertheless, I will do as you desire, if you will give me any excuse for doing so. In short, if you are not the real offender, and can point out who is--or if you only participated in the crime which another, more criminal than yourself, led you to, or committed with his own hand--and if you can give me any proof, or can lead in any way to the detection and punishment of the guilty, I shall feel myself justified in pleading strongly in your behalf."
"Sorry I am to say, my lord," answered Hardin, coolly, "that I can do none of all these things."
"Then, sir, in the name of every thing impudent," exclaimed the earl, angrily, "how came you to ask of me to plead for you to his majesty?"
"I think I can show your lordship a strong reason for doing so," replied Harding, with a slight sneer curling his lip; "and I must then leave it to your lordship's ingenuity to discover some motive to assign to his majesty for granting me his gracious pardon; although, let me remark, that you may well say the case is a very doubtful one; for certain I am, that not one of the twelve jurors who condemned me, did not lie down on his bed last night with a doubting heart, as to my guilt or innocence."
The earl listened with no slight degree of anger to the prisoner's cool and impudent harangue; but curiosity kept him silent, or at least taught him to conceal his contempt and indignation, till he had heard the circumstances to which the culprit alluded. "Well, sir! well," he said, as Harding paused--"Pray, what are the extraordinary motives which you suppose will prove capable of inducing me to furnish his majesty with reasons for pardoning a convicted felon? What is there, sir, that should tempt me to undertake such a task?"
"Simply, my lord, that scrupulous care for your lordship's reputation," Harding replied, "which you have displayed through life."
Lord Ashborough laughed aloud; but Harding maintained the same calm and somewhat sneering aspect, as if he had made up his mind to every turn that his conference with the earl might take, and could not be turned aside from his direct object for a moment, by either scorn or anger.
"And pray, sir," demanded his noble visitor, when he had exhausted his scoffing laugh--"Pray, what has my reputation to do with your situation? Do you intend to accuse me, in your last dying speech and confession, of having committed the murder myself, or of having aided you to commit it?"
"Neither one nor the other, my lord," answered the prisoner; "but if I do make any confession at all, which will depend upon your lordship's conduct, I intend to state that the robbery was first suggested to me by the following letter, written to me by your lordship's lawyer on your account, in order to persuade me to delay or carry off a sum of money which my master was to receive through the hands of the old man at Ryebury."
Lord Ashborough turned deadly pale; and taking a step forward, while he advanced his hand toward the paper which Harding held, he exclaimed, "Let me see, sir--Let me see!"
"Your pardon, my lord!" said the prisoner, drawing back the paper. "One does not usually give such valuable documents out of one's own hand. I will read it to you, however;" and in a calm, sustained voice, he proceeded to treat the ears of Lord Ashborough, sentence by sentence, with the whole of that letter which had been formerly written to him by Mr. Peter Tims, in regard to the money which Beauchamp had expected from London, to pay off the annuity on Sir Sidney Delaware's estate. "Your lordship will see," continued the prisoner, "that such a letter was very well calculated to induce me to commit a robbery; you will see, also, that Mr. Tims uses your lordship as his authority throughout; and I look upon myself as extremely lucky in having always preserved this letter in the lining of my waistcoat, as it now gives me the hope that so highly respected and honorable a nobleman as yourself may interest himself in my favor."
Now, in Lord Ashborough's mind, there was a great portion of that very same principle which had led Beauchamp to make the most uncompromising declaration of his purposes toward Blanche Delaware, as soon as he found that his uncle held out a threat upon the subject. Or, as the matter would be explained in one word by the phrenologists--who, if they have discovered nothing else, have at least, by the clearness of their definitions and their classification of human passions, rendered great services to moral philosophy--Lord Ashborough had no small development of combativeness in his brain; and the very idea of being bullied by a felon into demanding the royal mercy for a murderer, without one plausible motive to allege, instantly armed him to resist, though at the same time he felt terribly the additional wound his character might receive from such a paper being published as that which Harding had read.
"You are mistaken, sir," he replied, sternly. "You are entirely mistaken in your anticipations. That letter was totally unauthorized by me; and the rascal who wrote it, for that and several similar acts has been dismissed from my employment."
Harding heard him with the same cool smile, and then replied, "Your lordship's memory is short, I know; but luckily I can refresh it, for Mr. Tims has favored me only last night with this authentic and original copy of the letter, containing numerous corrections and improvements in your lordship's own handwriting."
Lord Ashborough saw that the day was lost, and that his discarded agent had triumphed. He had not committed himself in regard to the Delawares, it is true; but he had committed himself hopelessly in regard to the very man who now stood before him a convicted felon; and he felt that the reputation, of which he was proud just in proportion as he little deserved it, was gone forever. He made no reply, however; but with a slight, and--as Harding fancied--scornful movement of the lip, he turned suddenly toward the door, struck it sharply with his hand, and exclaimed "Open the door, turnkey! Open the door!"
It was instantly thrown wide to give him exit--but Lord Ashborough never went out! The one word, "Villain!" was all that he pronounced in the hearing of the turnkey; and he then fell forward at once, across the threshold of the door.
All was now confusion. Both jailers started forward to raise the nobleman, whom they believed to have tripped his foot in the doorway. Harding gave one longing look toward the open door and the embarrassed turnkeys; but then, turning his eyes to the fetters upon his own limbs, he sat down with a sigh of infinite compassion for himself, while the earl was raised, and the door locked.
"He has fainted, Mr. Jones!" said one of the jailers. "Here, take his feet, and help me to carry him along to the waiting room."
"He looks deadly pale!" replied the other, stooping forward, and gazing in Lord Ashborough's face, while he aided to bear the earl onward through the passage. "He looks mighty like a dead man."
The consternation of the governor of the prison was excessive when he saw the state of the noble visitor; and, while physicians were sent for from every quarter, he himself pressed his hand upon the earl's wrist, and upon his heart; but no pulse made itself felt in return; and all the usual restoratives were applied in vain.
A moment or two after, the surgeon of the prison appeared; but, as soon as he beheld the countenance of him to whose aid he was called, he shook his head, declaring that he believed him to be dead. He attempted to bleed him, however; but by this time no blood was to be obtained, and two or three medical men, from different parts of the town, arriving soon after, confirmed the opinion of the first. Nevertheless, various means were still resorted to in the hope of restoring animation, while messengers were dispatched to the different inns to ascertain at which the earl had alighted, and to inform his relations and servants of what had occurred.
Henry Beauchamp was still musing over the fire when Lord Ashborough's valet opened the door, and, with a face of grief and terror, extremely well compounded, exclaimed, "Sir, I am sorry to tell you that my lord has been taken very ill at the prison--"
Beauchamp started up, and took his hat, while the servant added, "Indeed, they seem to fear, sir, that he is dead!"
"Good God!" cried Beauchamp, as he rushed past the man--"Good God!" and, darting down stairs, he proceeded with rapid steps to the prison, into which, on giving his name, he was instantly admitted.
He found what had been Lord Ashborough extended on a table with a pillow under his head, and the surgeons still busy about the body; but one glance at his uncle's countenance showed him that the spirit had fled; and for a moment he gazed upon him without question or remark, while busy memory did her work, and gathered from the past every kind act of the dead, to build him up a monument in his nephew's heart.
"How did this happen, sir!" demanded Beauchamp at length, in a low tone, as if afraid of disturbing that deep sleep that had fallen upon, his uncle.
The governor told all he knew, and Beauchamp anxiously requested that the prisoner, Harding, might be asked if he could assign any cause for the accident that had befallen the earl. One of the turnkeys was accordingly sent to his cell; and while he was absent. Beauchamp, perceiving that the medical men were addressing all their means of restoration to the head, informed them that Lord Ashborough had been for some years subject to spasms of the heart.
"If that be the case, then, sir," replied one of them, "we may abandon the attempt, as the earl is certainly dead."
"Nevertheless," replied Beauchamp, "leave no means untried, while there is even the most remote hope."
The surgeon shook his head, but still made some more efforts; and the turnkey, returning almost immediately from the condemned cell reported that the prisoner could only be brought to say, that the earl had fallen into a violent passion, and that he himself desired not to be farther troubled upon the subject.
After a pause of a few minutes more, the principal surgeon again addressed Beauchamp saying, "As I imagine, sir, from your manner that you are a near relation of the earl, I feel my duty to tell you positively that he is no more and that to continue all these efforts in your presence, would be but to harrow up your feelings for no purpose. All men must die, and the nobleman will never have to endure that pang again."
Beauchamp bowed his head, and crossing his arms upon his bosom, remained for a few moments in silence. Then begging that one of the younger surgeons would remain with the body all night, and that the elder person who had addressed him would accompany him to the inn, he added a few words of course to the governor of the prison, and departed from the chamber of the dead.