"'I have called, sir,' began Lucy, whose courage almost failed her when she found herself in the presence of a man of such stern, cold, and indeed forbidding aspect—for this was the first time she had ever seen him,—'I have called, sir,' she repeated, 'on behalf of my husband, whose ruin is certain unless you show him some degree of mercy.'—'Mr. Craddock behaved in a manner the most insulting, and dared to utter suspicions the must derogatory to my character, even in the presence of my clerks,' observed Walkden, in a tone so chilling that it seemed as if the breath which wafted those words to the young wife's ears, passed over the ice of the poles.—'But surely, sir,' urged Lucy, the tears trickling down her cheeks, 'you will make some allowances for the excited feelings of a young man just entering the world as it were, and so cruelly struck on its very threshold by the hand of misfortune? At least, sir, if not for his sake, I implore you for that of his innocent children to be lenient and merciful.'—'Law forms and ceremonies are not influenced by such considerations, madam,' said Mr. Walkden. 'At the same time, I have no objection to search the Commentaries; and if I there find leniency recommended in filing a declaration, or mercy enjoined in signing judgment, I have not the slightest objection to instruct my common-law clerk accordingly.'—Lucy stared at the attorney in wild bewilderment and uncertainty as he thus delivered himself in a measured tone of such frigidity that it seemed as if an automaton of ice were speaking; but at length she murmured, 'May I then hope, sir, that you will not press for the payment of this heavy debt when the bills become due?'—Walkden fixed his eyes upon the lovely and tearful countenance which was upturned so imploringly towards him; and at the instant he thought within himself that he had never before seen a female face of such surpassing beauty. Then his glance slowly and deliberately wandered from the faultless features to the contours of the well-formed bust, developed even by the plaits of the thick shawl which Lucy wore; and thence his survey was continued until his contemplation had embraced the wasp-like waist, and the flowing outlines of a symmetrical form, terminating in feet and ankles ravishingly modelled.—'You are doubtless much attached to your husband, madam?' he said, his tone becoming the least thing more tender—or rather losing one small degree of its cold severity.—'Attached to him, sir!' exclaimed Lucy, perfectly astonished at the question: 'I love—I worship him! He is the best of husbands and the best of fathers!'—'Then you would make any sacrifice to restore him to peace of mind?' said Walkden, his voice becoming more tender still, and his demeanour gradually unbending from its stiff formality.—'Oh! yes,' cried the artless Lucy; 'any sacrifice would I make to see my Alexander happy as he was wont to be!'—'Any sacrifice,' repeated the lawyer, now positively allowing his features to relax into a faint and significant smile, while his voice was lowered and changed into a tone of soft familiarity; 'consider what you say—any sacrifice! Well, then on that condition'—and he took her hand.—A light broke instantaneously upon the mind of Lucy; and, snatching back her hand as if from the maw of a wild beast, she started from her seat, uttered a cry of indignation and abhorrence, and disappeared from the office before the baffled and disconcerted lawyer had time to make an effort to detain her.
"Lucy's heart was still swelling with mingled resentment and anguish, when she reached her home; and Alexander who returned at the same time, saw in an instant that she was a prey to no ordinary emotions. Throwing herself into her husband's arms, Lucy burst into tears—her pent-up feelings no longer obeying the control of that restraint which she sought to impose upon them. Then, by dint of questioning, Alexander gleaned enough to convince him that his beloved wife had been flagrantly insulted by the villain who had already heaped such grievous wrongs upon his head. Maddened by this fresh injury, Alexander was about to rush from the house and inflict some dreadful chastisement upon the cold-blooded monster Walkden, when his wife and her aunt threw themselves at his feet, and implored him, with tears and impassioned entreaties, not to aggravate the perils and embarrassments of his position by involving himself in a quarrel with their enemy. Alexander was moved by the prayers of those whom he loved; and he faithfully promised them not to suffer his indignant feelings to master his prudence. When calmness and composure were somewhat restored, he proceeded to explain the result of the visit which he had just paid to his own solicitor. That gentleman had said to him, 'It is as clear as day-light that you are robbed by Walkden and Scudimore conjointly; but I really do not think that you could prove a conspiracy in a criminal court. I should, however, decidedly advise you to resist the payment of the bills; and, as Walkden is tolerably sure to push the matter on to trial, the verdict of a jury in the civil case will enable us to judge how far we may hope to punish the scoundrel attorney in another manner.' Alexander had accordingly placed himself entirely in his solicitor's hands; and there rested the business for the present.
"But a serious change took place in the disposition and habits of Alexander Craddock. Smarting under the wrongs which he had received, he grew restless and unsettled—experienced less delight than he was wont to feel in the society of his wife and children—showed signs of irritability, and an impatience of the slightest contradiction, however trivial—and remained longer over his wine after dinner. Lucy beheld all this, and wept in secret: but when with Alexander, she redoubled her attentions, and sought every possible opportunity of proving her devotion. She implored him to give up the house they then occupied, and adopt a more economical mode of life; but his answers were at first evasive—then impatient—and at last so sharp and angry, that she was compelled, though with reluctance, to abandon the topic, at least for the present. To add to Lucy's grief, her aunt, who had so long fulfilled towards her the duties of a mother, was attacked with sudden indisposition, which increased with alarming rapidity, and carried her off in the course of a few days. Alexander manifested far less sorrow than Lucy had expected him to have shown; and this proof of an augmenting callousness on his part, pierced the heart of the amiable young lady to the very quick. But scarcely had the remains of Miss Middleton been consigned to the tomb, when a fresh misfortune occurred to increase the irritability of Alexander. The bills for eight thousand pounds fell due, and were dishonoured by him, in accordance with the advice of his solicitor. He was immediately after arrested: and, as he had resolved to defend the action, he paid into court the whole sum in dispute, a proceeding whereby he could alone save himself from remaining in prison until the trial. He had, however, gone through the ordeal of a spunging-house, and he considered himself disgraced; the irritability of his temper increased—he daily grew more attached to the bottle—and his affections towards his wife and children were evidently blunted. Oh! how ramified and vast are the evil effects of the villainy of one man towards another,—striking not only the individual victim, but rebounding and reacting on his wife, his children, and his friends!
"Lucy again revived the expression of her wish that a cheaper dwelling should be taken and a more economical style of living adopted. But Alexander would not listen to the proposal. He declared his certainty of gaining the suit and of recovering his money from the court—a result, he said, which would enable him to employ his funds in some legitimate commercial enterprise. On this subject he spoke so confidently, that Lucy entertained the most sanguine hopes of beholding happiness restored beneath a roof where naught save happiness had once prevailed; and it was but with little apprehension that she marked the arrival of the day fixed for the trial. The most able counsel had been retained on both sides; and the cause excited immense interest. Walkden had been established for years, and bore an excellent character: indeed, none of his friends or clients could for a moment believe that he was an accomplice of the villain Scudimore. The whole question, as presented to the cognizance of the tribunal, was whether Mr. Walkden had given value for the bills, and was a bona fide holder of securities which he had legitimately and honourably discounted in the course of business. The evidence he adduced to establish these points was certainly of a nature likely to prove most convincing to a jury, though Alexander knew full well that Walkden had suborned the grossest perjury on the part of his clerks and the other persons whom he put forward as witnesses. Nevertheless, the verdict was in Walkden's favour; and Alexander returned home a prey to the liveliest grief and the most bitter resentment. Lucy did all that woman's goodness and ingenuity could suggest to console him; but the excitement of his feelings gained upon him with such overwhelming violence and rapidity, that he grew delirious, and a brain-fever supervened. The best medical advice was procured for him by the almost heart-broken Lucy; but weeks and weeks passed away without enabling the physicians to pronounce him beyond the reach of danger. During that period he had many lucid intervals, on which occasions he recognised his wife and children—embraced them tenderly—wept over them—implored heaven to bless them—and then, in the bitterness of overwhelming reminiscences, desired them to look upon him as one who was dead,—his excitement relapsing into delirium again. Poor Lucy! seldom was it that she reposed her aching head upon a pillow, throughout the period of her beloved husband's illness—and never until completely crushed with the fatigue of long vigils and the burthen of a grief beneath which she herself was sinking. At length—just as her pecuniary resources began to fail, and the want of funds excited alarms which augmented her afflictions—Alexander's malady took a sudden turn which filled her mind with the most joyous hope; and when the delirium had altogether passed away, his manner was so kind and gentle—his language so endearing and affectionate—and his temper so entirely devoid of irritability, that Lucy's heart became elate with the most cheering aspirations and delightful visions. Alexander spoke of his misfortunes with calmness and resignation; and said, 'Our property is all swept away, dearest; but I am young, and shall soon be strong and active again; and then I will work to obtain a livelihood for us all. And who knows, my beloved Lucy, but that the bread of honest though perhaps severe toil, may not prove the sweetest we shall have ever eaten?'—Then, when his wife heard him discourse in this manner, she would throw herself into his arms, and thank him—yes, thank him fervently for becoming a consoler in his turn.
"The fond pair had been conversing in this style one afternoon—the first day on which Alexander was enabled to walk down stairs to the parlour without assistance,—and their children were playing in a corner of the apartment, when the door was suddenly and violently opened, and two or three coarse-looking fellows unceremoniously made their appearance. Their mission was soon explained. The money paid into court had only just covered the amount of the bills of exchange which had formed the ground of action; and Alexander was now arrested by Walkden for the costs, which had been taxed at a hundred and odd pounds. The unfortunate young couple had not the money; and Lucy had already made away with their plate, jewellery, and other valuables in order to provide her husband with every comfort and luxury in his illness. The furniture was worth more than the amount of the costs: but arrears of rent were due to the landlord. Lucy implored the bailiffs, with tears in her eyes, not to remove Alexander for a few days, when he might have recovered the shock of this new and unforeseen blow; but they were inexorable, intimating pretty plainly that they were instructed to show no leniency of any kind. She, however, by dint of entreaties—actually going down upon her knees to the officers—succeeded in inducing them to wait while she repaired to his own solicitor. But this gentleman was unable to assist her to the amount she required: he nevertheless manifested the kindest and most respectful sympathy towards her, giving her a few guineas for immediate necessities, and promising to incur the expense of the measures necessary to enable her husband to remove next day from a lock-up house to the King's Bench. It was some consolation to the almost heart-broken young lady, to find that Alexander possessed at least one friend in the world; but even this faint and poor gleam of solace vanished, and gave way to the keenest apprehensions, when on her return she found her husband a prey to all that fearful excitement which had proved the forerunner of his late dangerous malady.
"What was to be done? There seemed but one alternative; and this she was determined, in her affectionate solicitude and zeal, to adopt without the knowledge of Alexander. Indeed, he scarcely appeared to be aware of what was going on; but raved, talked wildly, and menaced and wept by turns in the presence of the officers who surrounded him. Away sped Lucy to Bush Lane; and a second time did she enter the establishment of that individual who had brought such rapid—such signal—such unredeemable ruin on the heads of a once happy family. Walkden received her in his private office, and coldly desired her to be seated, a smile of infernal triumph relaxing his stern and usually rigid features; while his eyes scanned the wasted, but still touchingly beautiful and deeply interesting countenance of that afflicted young lady. Lucy was for some minutes so overcome by the intensity of her feelings, that she was unable to utter a word; and when she did speak, it was a mere gasping forth of disjointed sentences, broken by frequent sobs of convulsing agony. The lawyer bent over her, like Satan whispering to a desperate creature the terms on which wealth and power might be purchased,—bent over that crushed, much-enduring, and amiable young wife, and murmured in her ears his terms of mercy towards her husband. She rose and looked at him in amazement and horror. Was he a human being, or a veritable fiend? His cold, grey eyes sank not beneath the reproachful and indignant glance of that outraged lady; and a smile of demoniac triumph again played upon his lip. Doubtless he thought that her anger was only momentary, and that the sternness of necessity would force her to a compliance with his will. But he knew not the mind of Lucy. 'Villain! monster!' she exclaimed: 'has your infamy no bounds?' and she fled from the presence of the cold-blooded scoundrel as if the atmosphere which he breathed were fraught with the plague.
"With what a heavy heart did she return home—that home from which her husband must now be dragged immediately and before her eyes,—a home which, perhaps, would not long remain so for herself and children. But suddenly, and as if by divine inspiration, she remembered that all her courage was now required to enable her to bear up against her afflictions for the sake of Alexander—for the sake of her offspring;—and it is astonishing how, in the midst of the deepest sorrows, woman can ofttimes display an energy of which the stronger sex is altogether incapable. And so it now was with Lucy Craddock. She even succeeded in comforting her husband and soothing his excitement, by reminding him that the more he appeared to be crushed, the greater would be the delight of his savage and unrelenting enemy. This species of remonstrance, so kindly—so gently administered, had the desired effect; and Alexander, animated with a spirit of endurance, and fortified by the example of his admirable wife, rose if possible superior to his misfortunes, and proceeded with a feeling of proud resignation to the lock-up-house. Thence on the ensuing day he was removed to the King's Bench: and it was here that I first formed his acquaintance, when he entered the prison six years ago.
"Immediately after his arrival, his spirits gave way rapidly; and it was necessary for his wife to take up her abode with him altogether. She accordingly disposed of the furniture in their house, paid the landlord and the few other small creditors, and brought her children over to the small cheerless chamber in which her husband was lying on a bed of sickness. Thus was this once happy family—like so many, many others, reduced from a state of comfort, and even affluence, to poverty and a prison-room. Heaven only knows what misery—what privations they had undergone, when it was first whispered to me by a char-woman that the Craddocks seemed to be in great distress. I was then a little better off than I am now; and I immediately repaired to their room, inventing some excuse for my intrusion. Oh! what a scene of destitution—what a heart-rending spectacle met my eyes! The furniture which the Craddocks had hired, had been all removed away in consequence of their inability to pay for its use: Alexander, pale and emaciated, was sitting upon a trunk; the two children, thin and wasted, were crying for food; and the poor, heart-rent Lucy was looking over a few things in a hatbox, evidently with a view to select the most likely articles to be received by the pawnbroker—while her scalding tears fell fast upon her hands as she turned over the only relics left of a wardrobe once extensive and elegant. It went to my very soul to contemplate that scene! I shall not pause to explain all the particulars which rendered me intimate with the Craddocks: suffice it to say, that they accepted my assistance, and that in a few hours their chamber once again wore an aspect of such comfort as the restitution of the furniture and a well supplied table could possibly afford in a prison. I did not learn their history immediately—nor all its details at once: portions of it were communicated by degrees—some of the particulars oozed out incidentally—and the feelings and sentiments experienced by the sufferers in the various phases of their eventful tale, transpired from time to time,—until at length I gleaned all those facts which I have now related to you. But by far the most terrible portion of the history of the Craddocks is yet to come."
Prout paused for a few moments, and then enquired of Frank Curtis if he were wearied of the narrative. The young gentleman assured him that, so far from being tired of the story, he was deeply interested in its progress; whereupon the Chancery prisoner proceeded in the following manner.