"Well, the day fixed for his examination at the Insolvents' Court arrived; and Alexander proceeded thither in the usual charge of a tipstaff. His case was called on at an early stage of the day's business; and he found a formidable array of counsel employed against him. I shall not pause to dwell upon all the details of the proceeding: suffice it to say that Walkden was placed in the witness-box, and, being examined by the barristers whom he had feed, made the entire case look so fearfully black against Alexander Craddock, that he was remanded to gaol for twelve months, his discharge to take place at the expiration of that period. Fearful was the state of excitement in which he returned to the Bench; and in the course of a few hours he was delirious. It was frightful to hear his ravings, in which the name of Walkden was uppermost, and associated with the bitterest imprecations and menaces. Poor Lucy! I thought her heart would break, as she sate watching by her husband's bed; but she was rewarded to some extent for her vigils and her sorrow, when, on the return of his senses, he recognised her before he even knew his own children, much less me—his humble friend,—and manifested his purest love for her in the most impassioned language and with the tenderest embraces. But though the delirium left him and returned no more, he soon fell into a deep and brooding melancholy, from which it was scarcely possible to arouse him. He fancied himself dishonoured—permanently dishonoured by the sentence passed upon him by the Insolvents' Court; and though the friendly lawyer and myself, as well as Lucy, endeavoured to reason with him against the belief,—pointing out every circumstance calculated to prove that he was a victim, and not a culprit,—he took the matter so to heart that it was evident his spirit was broken!
"My own resources began to fall off at this period, and I was unable to assist the Craddocks as much as I could wish. Moreover, Alexander and Lucy both felt averse to remain dependant upon me; and the friendly lawyer had proved so generous that they were naturally delicate in applying to him. Lucy accordingly made up her mind how to act. She proposed that they should remove over to the Poor-Side, and receive the County money. They would thus obtain a room rent free, and a few shillings a-week to purchase bread. Alexander's pride struggled against this project; but he yielded at last to the entreaties and representations of his excellent wife, who assured him that she felt no shame in showing that she was poor, and that the only real disgrace lay in dishonesty. 'Wherefore, then, should we contract any debts which we cannot pay?' she enquired; 'and if we continue to live in this part of the prison we must keep up certain appearances, which we have not the means to do.'—Alexander succumbed, I say, to this reasoning; and to the Poor-Side they accordingly removed. I never shall forget the day when this change took place. Lucy had made the new chamber look as neat at possible; and she endeavoured to maintain a smiling exterior as she arranged the little furniture and the few things of their own which were left to them. But every now and then she glanced anxiously towards her husband, who sat in a musing—or rather an apathetic manner—watching her proceedings; and I observed that a tear frequently started to her eye, and that every now and then she caught up her children and pressed them passionately to her bosom. I insisted upon providing dinner on that day; and I did all I could not only to make this poor family as comfortable as possible, but also to raise Alexander's spirits. But if he smiled it was so faintly, or sickly, that my heart sank within me as if he had been my own son.
"A few weeks passed away, and I observed that Lucy managed to keep the family pretty comfortably. They had no lack of plain and humble food—and the children were always neat and clean. Whenever I called at their room, I found Lucy busy in some way or another—either washing or mending the clothes, or ironing out her husband's linen, or else plying the needle at work which, though I know little of such matters, did not seem to me to have any reference to the family wardrobe at all. One night I could not sleep, and got up to take a walk round the prison. It was between twelve and one; and, as I passed round by the Poor-Side, I chanced to look up at the window of the Craddocks' room. To my surprise, I observed a light burning; and the truth flashed upon me. Poor Lucy was sitting up to work—to waste her youth, her health, and her spirits over the needle, that she might obtain the means to purchase comforts for her husband and children! The conviction went to my very heart like a pang; and I thought how bitter is often the mission of a good and virtuous woman in this world! I remember that I had no inclination to retire to rest again that night; and I kept walking—walking round the prison, impelled by some invincible influence thus to wander about the gloomy place, as if to watch how long the feeble light would be burning in that one room! It was nearly four o'clock when that light was extinguished; and I heaved a sigh as I murmured to myself the name of poor Lucy Craddock! When day came, and I was enabled to call upon Alexander after breakfast. I examined the young wife and mother with more attention than usual; and it then struck me that she was visibly wasting away. Her health was evidently declining; and her spirits were entirely forced. She was gay and lively as ever; but that gaiety and liveliness were assumed, not real—artificial, not natural,—the veil which an excellent and amiable woman—a most affectionate wife and the best of mothers—put on to cover the secret of her breaking heart!
"Three mouths of the year for which Alexander had been remanded, passed away; and Lucy beheld her children drooping and pining through want of proper air and exercise. This discovery was a new affliction. She would not permit the little things to play about along with the ragged, dirty offspring of the other prisoners on the Poor-Side; and she was unable to spare the time to take them out herself. I understood the struggle that was passing in her mind. If she devoted an hour or two each day to them, she must give up some of the work which, as I found out, she had obtained from a warehouse in the Borough; and by so doing their comforts and those of her husband would be abridged. On the other hand, she could not see those poor innocents confined to a close room and pining for fresh air. She accordingly resolved to take them out for a certain period each day, and to steal another hour or two from her repose. I knew that she did this, because when I either walked about until very late, or else rose early to take my ramble about the prison, I saw the light in the chamber even at five o'clock in the morning! My God! It is as true as I am here, that this poor, devoted woman at length limited herself to only three hours' rest; and though her children improved in health, her own was suffering the most frightful ravages. It was evident that Alexander did not suspect the labour and toil which his wife endured: he had sunk into a species of apathy which blinded him to a fact that I discovered so easily, and which gave me the acutest pain. You may be sure that I did all I could for the family, and in as delicate a way as possible,—always proposing to join my dinner to their's when I knew that I had a better one than they; but my own resources were becoming daily more cramped; and my accursed Chancery business not only lingered on, but absorbed all the funds I could raise or my friends could muster in my behalf. Thus six months passed away—Lucy in the meantime being worn down to a skeleton, and seeming only the shadow of her former self. Still she grew not, slovenly: dirt—that too frequent companion of poverty—was not the characteristic of her little chamber; and her husband always had his clean shirt for the Sabbath, and even decent apparel, considering that he lived on the Poor-Side of the King's Bench Prison!
"It was Term Time; and my business compelled me to take a day-rule. That is to say, I obtained permission to go out for a day to attend to my affairs, my friends giving security to the Marshal of the Bench for my safe return. I resolved to avail myself of this opportunity to call on Walkden, and represent to him the cruelty and absurdity of keeping Alexander in confinement, when by withdrawing the detainer he might restore him to freedom. I was prepared to find Walkden a severe and hard man; but the reception I experienced was calculated to make me set him down as a fiend in mortal shape. The moment I mentioned my business, he stopped me short,—rising from his seat, and saying in a cold, icy manner, 'The name of Craddock is abhorrent to me, sir. I was grossly insulted by his injurious suspicions; and he shall rot in prison before I permit him to escape my vengeance. He thinks that he will be freed in six months' time; but he is mistaken.'—'No, sir,' I exclaimed indignantly, 'it is you who are mistaken. The fiat of the Insolvents' Court is stronger than your vindictive will.'—'We shall see,' observed Walkden, in an implacable tone; and I was compelled to withdraw, not only grieved at the ill-success of my visit, but filled with vague apprehensions that fresh persecutions were in waiting for my unhappy friend. But I did not breathe a word to either Alexander or Lucy relative to the step which I had taken nor the fears thus excited within me; although I could not banish the lawyer's dark menace from my thoughts. Months passed away—Lucy still managing to keep the wolf from the door, as the vulgar phrase goes; while her health was sinking rapidly.
"At length the period drew nigh when Alexander expected to obtain his deliverance; and now his spirits began to rise. He gradually shook off the apathy which had so long clouded his intellect and impaired his energies; and he spoke highly of the prospect of release. But Walkden watched him from a distance, and seemed to gloat over the new scheme of vengeance which he had in store for this hapless family. Indeed, the blow came on a day when Alexander had declared to me that he had not felt his heart so light for a long, long time. A detainer was lodged against him at the gate—a detainer for a thousand pounds! The fact was that a mistake had been committed in Alexander's schedule, and an item to that extent omitted. The judgment of the Court was therefore void and null in respect to a debt not inserted in the schedule; for such is the atrocious law, made on purpose to persecute those unfortunate debtors who do not come within the meaning of the Acts which enable traders to apply to the Bankruptcy Court. The way that I heard first of the detainer being lodged at Walkden's suit was in this wise:—A char-woman came to my room, saying that Mrs. Craddock, who appeared to be in great distress of mind, wished to see me immediately. I hurried to the Poor-Side, a misgiving preparing my mind to receive intelligence of farther persecution on the part of the fiend Walkden. On entering the Craddock's chamber, I found Alexander lying almost senseless on the bed, deep and prolonged gaspings alone denoting that he was alive. Lucy was on her knees, imploring him not to give way to despair; and the children were crying piteously, although they were too young to understand the nature of the misfortune which had fallen on their parents' heads. I strove to awaken my unhappy friend to the necessity of enduring this new affliction with courage; and in a short time my representations, joined to Lucy's prayers and entreaties, succeeded to some little extent. 'You must petition the Insolvents' Court again,' I said; 'and you are sure of having no farther remand. In six weeks you will be free.'—'But the means—the means to pass this ordeal a second time!' he exclaimed almost frantically.—'The Marshal has some charitable funds at his disposal,' I observed; 'and I will instantly wait upon him, and present the whole circumstances of the case.'—Alexander was in that feverish state of excitement which cannot endure suspense when any gleam of hope is afforded in the midst of despair; and he urged me to lose no time in seeing the Marshal. As I quitted the room, Lucy pressed my hand in a manner expressive of deep emotion, as she murmured in a low tone, 'You are our only friend!'
"Within ten minutes I was seated in the Marshal's private office, explaining the nature of my business. I unreservedly and frankly revealed to him Alexander Craddock's whole history; and you may be sure that I did not forget to dwell upon the admirable conduct of Lucy. The Marshal is a humane man, although nothing more than a superior kind of gaoler; and he listened to me with great interest. When I had concluded my narrative, which was rather long, he said, 'Mr. Prout, I will lose no time in calling myself upon Mr. Walkden, whom I know well by name, and whose character has certainly appeared to me this day in a new light. I am well aware that he is harsh and severe; but I do not think him capable of keeping this man in prison under all the circumstances which you have detailed to me. I will see him, and endeavour to excite his compassion by unfolding to him all the particulars of Craddock's history, as you have now related them to me. If he should persist in retaining him in gaol, I will then from my own pocket advance the necessary funds to enable your poor friend to petition the Court again. In the meantime give Craddock this guinea.'—I returned my warmest thanks to the Marshal for his goodness, and was hurrying back to the Craddocks with the money and the hopeful intelligence I had in store for them, when, as I passed through the upper lobby, my attention was directed to a new prisoner who had just arrived; for on the turnkey asking him his name, he replied—Scudimore! A moment's scrutiny of the man convinced me that he was the same who had plundered Craddock, a description of his personal appearance having been frequently given to me by Alexander. I was sorry to find that he had become an inmate of the same place as the individual whom he had so deeply injured, and whose excited feelings I feared might lead him to some act of violence towards the villain. Well aware that Alexander could not be long before he must inevitably learn the fact of Scudimore's arrest, I resolved to mention it to him without delay, so as to prepare him to meet his enemy within the precincts of the Bench. I, however, communicated my good news first; and Lucy was overjoyed when she learnt that the Marshal had resolved to interest himself in her husband's behalf. But Alexander's manner suddenly became so strange—so unaccountably sombre and gloomy—and so menacingly mysterious, when I revealed to him the circumstance of Scudimore's presence in the prison, that both Lucy and myself grew terribly alarmed. We implored him not to notice Scudimore even when they should meet; but he gave no reply. I, however, whispered to Lucy my hopes that the Marshal would succeed in inducing Walkden to liberate her husband at once; and thereby remove her husband from the vicinity of the scoundrel who had ruined him. I also resolved to be as much with Alexander as possible; and I was delighted to find that he showed no inclination to leave his room for the purpose of taking his usual walk up and down the back of the prison-building.
"In the course of a couple of hours the Marshal sent me in word that he had not succeeded in finding Mr. Walkden at his office, but had made an appointment with the head-clerk to call again in the evening, when the result of his interview with the lawyer should be immediately communicated to me, even if the gates were closed. I therefore saw that the Marshal was in earnest in carrying out the business he had taken in hand; and Lucy was inspired with the same strong hopes that I entertained. But Alexander received the Marshal's message with an apathetic coldness which filled me with alarm; and it was evident that his mind brooded over other affairs, which I could not help thinking were connected with the arrival of Scudimore at the Bench. I was, however, glad to observe that Lucy did not participate in my fears to the same extent as she did in my hopes: poor creature! the thought of seeing her husband soon free was the absorbing sentiment in her mind! I remained with the Craddocks on that eventful day up to almost nine o'clock, when a letter which I received by the last post compelled me to go to my room for a few minutes to look out a few papers connected with my own case, and which my attorney required the first thing in the morning. I assured Lucy that I would return as soon as possible, the promised intelligence from the Marshal being now every moment expected by us.
"And now I come to a frightful portion of my sad tale. I had been about five minutes in my room, and had just sealed up the packet which was to be given to a messenger that night to deliver early next day to my solicitor, when Lucy rushed in without knocking. She fell exhausted upon the floor; and it was some moments before she could articulate a word. I was cruelly alarmed; and my hand trembled so as I poured her out some water that I could scarcely hold the glass. At length I learnt that Alexander had suddenly started from his chair, a minute after I left him, and seizing a knife, had rushed from the room. Before Lucy could reach the bottom of the stairs, he had disappeared; and, in a state bordering on distraction, she had naturally flown to me. While she was gasping forth the few words which thus made me acquainted with the cause of her visit, cries of horror suddenly burst from the parade-ground and struck upon our ears. I cannot at this moment remember what we thought, or what we said—no, nor how we got down the stairs: the next incident that I do recollect, after hearing those appalling cries, was finding myself elbowing my way through a group of prisoners assembled on the parade; and then, by the moonlight, what a spectacle met my eyes! A man was lying on the ground, weltering in his blood; and another was passive and motionless in the grasp of three or four prisoners. The former was Scudimore: the latter was Alexander Craddock. Then female shrieks of anguish rent the air; and Lucy threw herself wildly into her husband's arms, exclaiming in a tone so piercing that it still rings in my ears—'You did not do it, Alexander! Oh! no—you could not—you would not! Tell me—I conjure you,—tell me that you did not do it!'
"Almost at the same moment a cry was raised of—'The Marshall'—and immediately afterwards that gentleman came up to the spot, accompanied by another individual, whom, as the moonlight fell upon his countenance, I instantly recognised to be Walkden. And that countenance—how was it changed! No longer cold and implacable, every feature bore the imprint of ineffable anguish and black despair. Then, when in a few hurried words, the assassination of Scudimore was communicated by the bye-standers to the Marshal and Walkden, and Alexander Craddock was mentioned as the murderer, a scene of the most wildly exciting interest ensued. For Walkden sprang towards the guilty—unhappy young man, and throwing his arms frantically around him,—poor Lucy shrinking back at his appearance,—exclaimed, 'My son!—my dear, and long-lost son! Pardon me—pardon me—I am the cause of all this—Oh! my God! how frightfully am I punished!'—and the wretched Walkden fell heavily upon the ground, overpowered—stunned—crushed by emotions too awful to be even conceived!