"My sweet Agnes"——
"I will—I will go with you, Charles! Nothing shall prevent me—even if I leave you at the door of the place you are going to!" It was in vain for Mr. Aubrey to protest—as he did, both earnestly and vehemently;—her impassioned importunities were irresistible, and she rushed breathlessly up-stairs to prepare her dress to accompany him on his brief but melancholy journey. Within a very few minutes she had returned, just as the sound of the coach-wheels approaching the door was heard. Mr. Aubrey and Kate perceived the dangerous excitement under which she was laboring, and dreaded its effects: yet what could be done? He could not prolong his stay—and it would be infinitely more dangerous to leave her behind, now that she had set her heart upon accompanying him, than to permit her to do so. She carried down little Agnes in her arms—and had been almost suffocating her and Charles, who walked after her, with kisses and convulsive embraces. Both the children were crying bitterly; and as soon as Mrs. Aubrey had reached the parlor door, and heard the coach-steps letting down, she fell into violent hysterics.
"I'll tell you what, sir," whispered Grab, as he stood close beside Mr. Aubrey, who was supporting Mrs. Aubrey—"it wouldn't be amiss if I was to say you should come along with me at once, while this poor lady's insensible—and then when she 'd have come to herself, and know'd you was gone, and no mistake—why—she'd in course think no more of it "——
"Oh! for God's sake—for God's sake! Remember your promise!" cried Aubrey, and in a voice which nearly reached the officer's heart: as it was, he simply shrugged his shoulders, and awaited the issue with no little impatience, but in silence. 'T was in the midst of this heart-rending scene, which ensued during the next half-hour, that Kate displayed the strength of character which so remarkably distinguished her; and, completely mastering her own agitated feelings, she essentially contributed towards Mrs. Aubrey's restoration to a state which would admit of her at length setting off. The children had been removed—Mr. Aubrey having bid them an agonizing adieu; for he knew not what accident or contrivance might occur to prevent his return to them—and after embracing his weeping sister, he supported Mrs. Aubrey, Grab closely following them, into the coach. All three having got in, "Jem," as he was called, shut up the door, jumped up on to the coach-box, and then they drove away. Poor Mrs. Aubrey, on taking her seat, drew from before her agitated yet beautiful countenance the long dark veil which she had drawn down while passing from the house into the coach, and gazed at Mr. Aubrey with such an expression of mingled tenderness and agony, as was almost sufficient to have broken even the stony heart of Grab. She also held her husband's hand convulsively grasped within her own—as though fearful of their being even yet violently separated from each other. As they went along, in answer to Aubrey's anxious inquiries concerning the nature of the scenes which awaited him, Mr. Grab told him that his—Grab's—lock-up was in Chancery-Lane, and would be found as comfortable a place as need be. He informed his prisoner, further, that he might have his choice,—whether to occupy a private room, with a bedroom opening into it—or go into the public room, where would be also some dozen other debtors,—and in which case, of course, Mrs. Aubrey must return home alone. Mr. Aubrey inquired what would be the expense of the private room, and was horrified on hearing—two guineas and a half a-day, paid in advance!—exclusive of board and attendance, which doubtless would be charged for on a commensurate scale. The prisoner and his wife gazed at each other in silence, and felt sick at heart.
"The smallest room—at the very top of the house—would suffice for both a sitting-room and bedroom," said Aubrey—"and we do not care a straw for furniture"——
"The room I told you of, or the public room, is all I've to offer you," replied Grab, somewhat doggedly—"and you needn't cry out before you're hurt; for it may be your friends will bail you out before the night—before much harm's done!" His wretched companions continued silent for the remainder of the journey, till the coach drew up opposite the door of the house of which they had been speaking. It was about half-way up Chancery-Lane, on the right-hand side as you entered from the Strand. 'T was a small, narrow, dingy-looking house, at the corner of a miserable court. The solitary window, level with the door, was strongly secured within by thick perpendicular iron bars. The outer door, at the top of a flight of about a dozen well-worn steps, stood open, leaving exposed to view an inner door, at about a couple of yards' distance from the outer one; and on this inner door was a brass plate bearing the terrifying name—
"G R A B."
The upper part of the door was of glass, and secured on the inside, like the window, by strong iron bars. Aubrey's soul sank within him as his eye took in these various points of the dismal building—the very first which he had ever been compelled to enter. The follower, immediately on the coach drawing up, jumped down, and running up the steps of the house, knocked at the inner door, and hurrying back, opened the coach-door, and let down the steps.
"Now, Jarvey—what's the damage?" inquired Grab, before any of them got out.
"Six shillings, your honor."