CHAPTER XIV.
Thou hast it now, King, Cawdor, Glamis, all;
As the weird women promised; and I fear
Thou play'dst most foully for't: yet it was said,
It should not stand in thy posterity;
But that myself should be the root, and father
Of many kings.
Shakspeare.
That there was much talk, and not a little difference of opinion in the various coteries of Bodmin that night, respecting the issue of the day's proceedings, needs hardly be told. In such cases the crowd can hardly be said to follow fortune and hate the fallen. The jury comes from among it; there is plenty of food for vanity in running down the verdict, and showing how much more rationally matters would have gone if I had been one of the twelve. The first gush of popular feeling is generally against the decision in a doubtful case. So here, if there were plenty of suspicion attaching to Henry Trevethlan's marriage, there were also good grounds for discrediting the testimony of Everope. If, on the one hand, scandalized gossips expressed their horror at such clandestine unions, on the other, there was a general cry of indignation at the witness's effrontery. If some people dwelt upon Maud Basset's hints that her daughter was ill-used, others maintained that the mother could not have been deceived at the wedding. If the popular rumours were cited in support of the verdict, they were met by the authority of Polydore Riches. In short, "there was a great deal to be said on both sides." People had an opportunity of showing their discernment, and the majority were apt to flatter their own shrewdness by dissenting from the jury.
He whom it most concerned, was already far from their councils. Randolph left the court immediately on hearing the judgment, with the idea that what had happened was exactly what he had expected, walked hurriedly to his hotel, and ordered out his chaise. Polydore came up to him, and took his hand, and besought him to stay, without extracting a single word in reply. When the chaise drove up, his old pupil merely ejaculated—"I must take the news to Helen. This is the last night either of us sleeps in Trevethlan castle,"—sprang into the vehicle, desired to be driven very fast, and was whirled away, leaving the good chaplain in a state of utter dismay.
Mr. Riches had, however, to rouse himself subsequently, to attend a conference which Winter had arranged for rather a late hour, and at which the counsel for the defendant and Griffith were to assist. The result of the meeting was unsatisfactory. The only practical suggestion was to track Everope's career as closely as possible. It was just within the bounds of probability that they might be able to overthrow that remarkable pedestrian tour; or they might light on other facts tending to elucidate his connection with Michael Sinson; or at least might further damnify his general character. But it was admitted that to chance they must look as their best friend. Time or fortune might bring to knowledge the fate of Mr. Ashton, supposing that he had not been murdered; or again, the missing Wyley might be discovered. Yet of what avail could this last contingency prove, since the witness might have been deceived in the same way as the mother? For the present, there appeared to be no clue to the maze. If the parties would only quarrel, there might indeed be an exposure; but they seemed to be too deeply involved in one another's safety for this event to be at all likely.
Sinson took very good care, in the disquietude of his suspicious temper, that his bondman should not be left in the way of temptation. He started with Everope for London, within a few hours of the termination of the trial. In that wretched man remorse seemed for a time to be dead. Hitherto, in the midst of his lowest depravity, he had always experienced compunctious visitings; he had been always haunted by a sense of forfeited respectability; and had frequently felt a feeble desire to reform. But now, although startled for a moment by the identity of Morton with the defendant, he gladly accepted his position as irremediable, and was looking eagerly for the reward which should furnish him with the means of forgetting it.
But it behoved Michael to keep a strong hold on him for a short time. A very short time, Sinson thought, in the first flush of his triumph, would be sufficient. A few days might put him in possession of all his desires: after that, what became of Everope, or what disclosures he might choose to make, would be a matter of second-rate consequence. Michael felt a kind of admiration for his victim, when he remembered how successfully he had encountered that searching cross-examination. But he could not allow so much ability to run too loose, and resolved to hold him in by drawing his purse-strings very tight, until his own game was perfectly secure.
That it would soon be so, he did not feel the least doubt. He had been playing for weeks and weeks; he had kept his eye steadily fixed upon one event; all his calculations terminated in one result; he had taught himself completely to ignore all unfavourable chances; supposing he had any confidants, he would have regarded their suggestion of difficulty as an insult; he might be thought to fancy that the book of fate lay open before him, and all he read was his own triumph.