Mr. Driesen instantly replied, vehemently, "No, Charles, no, Charles, no. I do not believe you guilty, but I do believe that you may be held so, unless, indeed, you could prove who it was committed the act."
"That may not be impossible either," replied Charles Tyrrell. "Indeed, I have good hope that such may be the case, though I cannot explain myself further, at present, upon the subject."
Mr. Driesen mused for several minutes, in silence, and then replied--
"Charles, you are deceiving yourself. You will sacrifice your own life--you will break the heart of Lucy Effingham--you will render all those that love you miserable. I see it plainly; I see it evidently. You are running headlong to destruction. Let me entreat you; let me conjure you, while there is yet time, to secure yourself, by flying once more. Here is a fresh strong horse at the door; he will carry you, easily, forty miles this night. You can be at a seaport before to-morrow. You can hire a ship, and ere to-morrow night be safe in France. If you want money, draw upon me for what you like; draw upon me for all your father left me. Here, I will sign a bond for it, this moment. I will sign an acknowledgment that I owe it to you--anything, anything, Charles, but save yourself directly;" and in his eagerness and anxiety, he grasped Charles Tyrrell's hands convulsively in his, gazing in his face with an earnest look of entreaty.
"Thank you, thank you, my dear sir," replied Charles, very much affected; "a thousand, and a thousand thanks, for all your kindness."
"Then do, Charles, do," cried Mr. Driesen, thinking that he had prevailed. "Make haste; get some refreshment, and put your foot in the stirrup. You are a bold horseman--you ride fast--you will soon----" but Charles stopped him.
"I am sorry," he said, "my dear sir, that I cannot do what you wish me. I was stopped on my journey by the commander of the revenue-cutter, and I pledged my honour to him that I would return and surrender myself to trial. I have already, too, given notice to the governor of the jail, that such will be the case."
Mr. Driesen struck his hand against his forehead, and exclaimed, "By ---- you are mad!--and I shall be called up to give evidence against you; to prove how you had been quarrelling with your father; to show that he was as mad as you are, and that you had scarcely any resource but to put him out of the world. This is too much; this is too much!" and he walked up and down the room in a terrible state of agitation.
Charles was a good deal agitated, also; for Mr. Driesen, certainly, put the matter in a new point of view to him. He had conceived that the whole strength of the evidence against him lay in his refusing to account for the time he had been absent after the gardener had seen him, and to explain the marks of blood upon his shooting-jacket. He now, however, saw that there were several other suspicious circumstances against him, what he had no means of doing away. He knew how slight a thing will turn the scale in criminal trials; how uncertain, we may say how capricious, are the decisions of juries. But still there was no course before him but to do as he had proposed to do, and, consequently, ceasing to argue the matter at all with Mr. Driesen, he only endeavoured to sooth the agitation which his friend was suffering, and to express the gratitude that he felt for the deep interest which he took in his welfare.
He found it all in vain, however. Mr. Driesen would but listen to one subject, and he again and again returned to his suggestion of flight, endeavouring, by all the sophistries of which he was so complete a master, and by which he so continually deceived himself to prove that there were particular circumstances in which a man was justified in doing anything for his own preservation; that there was no such thing as abstract right and wrong; that everything was relative, and depended entirely on the circumstances. His reasoning, however, did not convince Charles Tyrrell, in his own case, more than it would have done in that of others, and he remained unshaken, even in the slightest degree.