CHAPTER XXII.
It is impossible to describe the joy and satisfaction with which the excellent people at Emberton had heard that Mr. Tims, the old miser at Ryebury, had been murdered. I do not, of course, mean to say that every one in the whole town had those enlarged and general views which made them take in at once all the infinite advantages, both moral and physical, which that event was likely to afford them. Some, indeed, only calculated on the overflowing and inexhaustible source of bustle, excitement, surmise, and gossip, which was thus opened to them. Some fixed their thoughts upon the renown that Emberton would acquire throughout the world, as the place where the dreadful murder was committed, and others calculated upon wealth and emolument, from the number of visitors that it would bring to see the place. But only a few, of more vast and comprehensive minds, saw all these particulars in one general view, and rubbed their hands in great anticipations, as sharing in the sweet excitement of the moment, they talked over the murder with their neighbors, and added many bright touches from their own fancy to ornament the bloody deed.
The first news of the event that reached Emberton had been conveyed by farmer Ritson's hind, who supplied the old miser with his quotidian pennyworth of milk, and who had discovered the deed on applying in vain for admission. He alarmed his master, whose house was half a mile distant, and the good farmer instantly sent the intelligence to Emberton. The messenger's arrival took place just five minutes after Mr. Tims, junior, had driven through the town on his way to the mansion at the park; and as both Dr. Wilton and Mr. Egerton, the nearest magistrates, had passed the preceding evening and night at Emberton, inquiring into some suspicious circumstances connected with the burning of Mrs. Darlington's house, they were instantly called from their breakfast, and proceeded to examine into this fresh crime, which was destined to illustrate the annals of the neighborhood.
They found the house at Ryebury already surrounded by a number of people; and from among them various persons stepped forward to offer some little item of testimony; but an unexpected visitor soon appeared in the person of the lawyer, who, on leaving the park, in not the most placable humor, ordered the post-boy to drive to his uncle's house, and arrived just as the magistrates were about to leave the premises. No sooner did he hear of the event than he determined, if possible, to involve the family of Sir Sidney Delaware in the consequences, and entered into an examination of the circumstances, which soon not only furnished him with the means of doing so, but also really convinced him that Captain Delaware was guilty of the crime that he proposed to impute to him. He at once laid his charge, and related the circumstances of his late transaction with Sir Sidney Delaware's family in his own particular way. He would fain, indeed, have involved the father, too, in the accusation he brought against the son; but his own clerk, and the sheriff's-officer, distinctly stated before the magistrates, that it had been evident throughout, that Sir Sidney had not been aware, on their first arrival, that his son was in possession of the money necessary to pay the debt; and, for fear of spoiling a very hopeful case against Captain Delaware, the lawyer was obliged to abandon all charge against the baronet.
If the news of the murder alone had so soothed and gratified each of those mixed feelings--the love of the marvelous, the passion for talking, and the general dislike to our fellow-creatures, which all--combined with, or rather, as it were, embedded in a soft stratum of vanity--enter into the spirit of gossiping; how much more were the good folks of Emberton delighted and stimulated when they heard the charge against Captain Delaware, and learned that the result of the coroner's inquest was a verdict of willful murder against him. The reason why we are so much better pleased when a person in our own or a superior station commits a crime, or enacts a folly--why we tell it immediately to every one we meet, and aggravate it by our own comments--is, probably, that a person in that rank having had as great advantages in circumstances and education as ourselves, our vanity has the full opportunity of complimenting us on not having done the same, without the necessity of admitting one deduction on the score of greater temptations, or inferior knowledge, which we are compelled to do when the criminal is low, ignorant, or poor. The fact is, in all these cases, we make ourselves a bow on our own good behavior, and the lowness of the bow depends upon the relative situation of the sinner or the fool over whom we crow.
Thus, when the matter came to be discussed at Emberton, every one cried out, "Well, one would have thought that a young man of such hopes, and such an education as this Captain Delaware, would be the last to commit so dreadful a crime! A poor, ignorant wretch, driven to vice from necessity, one might have suspected; but not the son of a baronet, and a master and commander in the king's navy!"
Among such speculations fled away the evening; and, as we have said--although the people did not illuminate the town--the verdict of the coroner's jury certainly did make them as happy as the gossiping, envious, scandalous community of a little country town could be made. Early the next moment, however, just as the chaise which was to convey the prisoner to the county town was about to set out for his father's house, and as all the people of Emberton were preparing to turn out, and stare at him as he passed, a buzzing rumor began to spread abroad that Captain Delaware had escaped in the night.
"Escaped!" cried the old maiden in the house at the corner of the bridge, letting fall the china cup from her hand as the maid announced the fatal intelligence--"Escaped! then we shall all be murdered in our beds! Escaped!--why did they let the ruffian escape?"
In a different manner did the mercer bear the tidings; for, without replying one word to the shop-boy who told him, he proceeded to carry the news direct to the stationer's; and, as he detailed it, he added, "So there can be no doubt of his guilt now!"
"There never was any! There never was any!" replied the linen-draper in the same charitable spirit. "But you have heard that wild Wat Harrison, the widow's son, has not been seen or heard of for the last two or three days, and that there are manifold suspicions--"