“Wanton!” he hissed in her ear, “shameless wanton!”
She answered nothing; but stood where he held her, with wild eyes looking out of a white, rigid countenance. She had done what she had come there to do. Persuaded by Fareham’s attorney, who had waited upon her at her lodgings when Sir John was out of the way, she had made her ill-considered attempt to save the man she loved, ignorant of the extent of his danger, exaggerating the potential severity of his punishment, in the illimitable fear of a woman for the safety of the being she loves. And now she cared nothing what became of her, cared little even for her father’s anger or distress. There was always the Convent, last refuge of sin or sorrow, which meant the annihilation of the individual, and where the world’s praise or blame had no influence.
Her woman fussed about her with a bottle of strong essence, and Sir John dragged rather than led her along the Hall, to the great door where the coach that had carried her from his London lodgings was in waiting. He saw her seated, with her woman beside her, supporting her, gave the coachman his orders, and then went hastily back to the Court of King’s Bench.
The Court was rising; the Jury, without leaving their seats, had pronounced the defendant guilty of a misdemeanour, not in conveying Sir John Kirkland’s daughter away from her home, to which act she had avowed herself a consenting party; but in detaining her in his house with violence, and in opposition to her father and proper guardian. The Lord Chief Justice expressed his satisfaction at this verdict, and after expatiating with pious horror upon the evil consequences of an ungovernable passion, a guilty, soul-destroying love, a direct inspiration of Satan, sentenced the defendant to pay a fine of ten thousand pounds, upon the payment of which sum he would be set at liberty.
The old Cavalier heard the brief sermon and the sentence, which seemed to him of all punishments the most futile. He had hoped to see his son-in-law sent to the Plantations for life; had been angry at the thought that he would escape the gallows; and for sole penalty the seducer was sentenced to forfeit less than a year’s income. How corrupt and venal was a bench that made the law of the land a nullity when a great personage was the law-breaker!
He flung himself in the defendant’s way as he left the court, and struck him across the breast with the flat of his sword.
“An unarmed man, Sir John! Is that your old-world chivalry?” Fareham asked, quietly.
A crowd was round them and swords were drawn before the officer could interfere. There were friends of Fareham’s in the court, and two of his gentlemen; and Sir John, who was alone, might have been seriously hurt before the authorities could put down the tumult, had not his son-in-law protected him.
“Sheath your swords, if you love me!” he exclaimed, flinging himself in front of Sir John. “I would not have the slightest violence offered to this gentleman.”
“And I would kill you if I had the chance!” cried Sir John; “that is the difference between us. I keep no measures with the man who ruined my daughter.”