The Convict: A Tale

by G. P. R. James

The road was quite solitary, although he thought he heard steps running on fast before him; and no one did Dudley meet with during the whole weary seven miles he had still to walk before he reached the gates of Brandon Park. Sad and gloomy were the thoughts which kept him company by the way from that scene of mad violence. He reflected upon the fate of the misled men who had fallen or been taken; and with still more sorrowful feelings he thought of the future condition of the widow, the orphans, the parents of the dead, and all that were connected with or dependent upon the prisoners. But it is with his own fate I have to do, and not with his mere meditations, and therefore I will conduct him at once past the old barn and lonely farm-house, which marked about half the distance, and bring him to the gates of the park. The moon was by this time rising, but the light of a candle was in the lodge, and the small door leading into the park, at the side of the greater ones, was open. Dudley passed through, and advanced up the avenue towards the house; but he had not proceeded two hundred yards, when two men started out upon him from behind the trees, and seized him by the shoulder.

"Mr. Edward Dudley," said one, "I apprehend you in the Queen's name. Here is the warrant."

"Upon what charge?" demanded Dudley, without making any resistance.

"Why, it may be murder; it may be manslaughter," replied the constable; "that remains to be seen. You must come to the lodge for to-night, sir; for I am ordered to keep you there in safe custody, in the little room with the round window at the back."

CHAPTER XVII.

It is necessary now to leave Dudley in the hands of the constables, and to take up the history of another personage in the tale.

Sir Arthur Adelon spurred on for four miles without drawing a rein, and almost without giving a thought to any point in his situation, except the effort necessary to escape personal danger. For the first two miles he fancied that he heard the sounds of pursuit behind him; but gradually, as no one appeared, and his keenest attention did not confirm the impressions which fear had produced, he became convinced that he had escaped immediate capture; and while he still urged his horse furiously forward, he meditated over the perilous future. His course was directed along a narrow horse-path across the downs, with every turning of which he was well acquainted, but which added nearly two miles to the distance he had to go. He paid little attention to any external objects; but one thing could not escape his eye as he rode over the high grounds towering above the sea. It was a dim light, at the distance of about a mile from the shore, and he knew right well that it was burning on board a small French brig, which had brought over the two field-pieces the night before. The sight suggested to his mind the idea of flight from England; but there were many difficult and dangerous points to be considered before such a step could be taken; and after awhile, he somewhat checked his horse's speed, and though still proceeding at a quick trot, revolved in an intense, but confused and rambling manner, the circumstances which surrounded him. His inclination was certainly to fly; but then he remembered that to do so would fix upon him participation in the crimes of that night; that he might not be able to return to his country for long years, and that the rest of his life might be spent in the pains of exile. He recollected, too, that he had held back at that period of the attack upon the town of Barhampton, when the magistrates had appeared upon the wall, and summoned the multitude to disperse, and retire quietly to their homes; and he fancied that, disguised as his person had been, in a large wrapping cloak, with a handkerchief tied over the lower part of his face, and a hat unlike that which he usually wore, he might have escaped without observation on the part of most of the rioters. But then again, Dudley had seen him, spoken to him, recognised him. He was the only one, except Norries, that was fully aware of his presence on the spot, and Sir Arthur believed that he had seen the latter fall dead under the fire of the troops. Could Dudley be silenced, all might go well; but still the baronet hesitated and balanced, and remained undecided till the gates of Brandon Park appeared before him. It was necessary to come to some immediate decision; and yet he could not make up his mind to decide; and at length he determined, as most men in a state of doubt are inclined to do, to cast the burden upon another. "I will speak with Filmer," he thought; "and upon his advice I will act." The gates were immediately opened on his ringing the bell; for the tenants of the lodge, knowing that he was absent, had waited up for his return, and riding hard up the avenue, Sir Arthur entered his niece's house a little after eleven o'clock. A momentary hesitation crossed him when he was passing the threshold, as to whether he should consult with Father Peter or not; but that doubt was immediately put an end to, by the first words of the butler, who stood behind the servant that opened the door.

"Oh! Sir Arthur!" he said, with a very grave face, "some terrible things have happened----"

"I know--I know," cried Sir Arthur, interrupting him hastily, and somewhat surprised to find that the tidings had travelled so quick. "Where is Mr. Filmer? I must see him directly. Call him to me immediately."

"He is in the library, sir," replied the man; and passing on with a quick step, Sir Arthur Adelon entered the room where the priest was seated alone. Father Filmer was sitting at a large library-table, with his head resting on his hand: and as he raised his eyes to the baronet's countenance, with the light of the large lamp streaming upon his broad forehead, there was an expression of intense stern thought upon his face, which made Sir Arthur feel he was in the presence of his master more than of his friend perhaps. He closed the door, and saw that it was firmly shut; and as he was advancing towards the table, Mr. Filmer inquired, "What is the matter, Sir Arthur? You are pale, haggard, and apparently much agitated."