"The raving madness of a delirious and dying man! How can you, gentlemen, sit and listen to such trash! But I will soon bring you proof of what state the man was in, when that canting old fanatic saw him and he turned towards the door.

"Sit down, my lord!" said Mr. Simpson, sternly. "I cannot allow you to leave the room."

"Sit down! not allow me!" cried the peer, turning upon him with all the dark and haughty spirit of his heart flashing forth. "Do you dare, sir, to use such terms to me in my own mansion?"

"Anywhere, Lord Dewry!" replied the magistrate. "I say, sit down! or I must give you in custody to one of the officers, _I_ will show you, gentlemen, in what state of mind was the deponent when he made this declaration. Here is the attestation of the surgeon and his a.s.sistant, that Sir Roger Millington was, at the moment he signed this paper, perfectly sane and rational; that he did it under the full knowledge that he was a dying man; and that every word here written was exactly used by himself. Gentlemen, this requires immediate investigation; for every word here written must greatly affect the prisoner before us."

Lord Dewry had cast himself down again in his chair; but wrath in the present instance supported hypocrisy; for it was anger and indignation he sought to a.s.sume, and the former at least, in the present instance, required no acting. He folded his arms upon his breast, he rolled his dark eye over the form of the magistrate, and he set his teeth in his nether lip till the blood almost started beneath the pressure. In the mean while there was a confused and murmuring conversation among the magistrates, some standing, some sitting, and all talking together. At length Mr. Arden exclaimed, in a loud voice that overpowered the rest,--

"Well, well; this matter requires much consideration. Let us at all events remand the gipsy for four or five days, while we inquire into the rest. Here, he might be tampered with; but let us remand him to the cage at Morley."

"Remand me!" cried the gipsy, in a tone that called instant attention, while his deep black eyes seemed flashing with living fire. "Remand me! remand a man that you know to be innocent! Are these your boasted laws? is this your English equity? Have you no more freedom in your hearts than this? Did ye but know what real freedom is, ye would feel that nothing upon earth,--neither gold, nor wealth, nor friends, nor pleasures, nor health, nor life itself, to the freeman,--is half so dear as liberty! If ye take his gold, ye call it robbery; if ye take his life, ye call it murder; but I tell you, that every minute and every hour of liberty is more than gold or life; and yet, base hypocritical tyrants, without scruple and without remorse, you take from your fellow-creatures, on the slightest pretence, the brightest possession of man, the n.o.blest gift of G.o.d. Ere you know whether your fellow-creature be guilty or not ye doom him to the worst of punishments, ye confine him in dungeons, ye fetter his free limbs with iron, ye deny him G.o.d's light and G.o.d's air, ye make him the companion of devils and fiends, and then ye find that he is innocent, and send him forth into the world degraded, corrupted, vile as ye are yourself,--punished without guilt, and robbed of many a long day of golden liberty by those who pretend to dispense justice, and who talk of equity. Out upon ye, I say! and out upon your laws! If there were such things as liberty and justice in the land, the very rumour that a fellow-creature was deprived of his freedom for an hour, would gather together half the land to see justice done; and he who dared unjustly to deprive a freeman of his liberty would be punished as a traitor against the rights conferred by G.o.d. Then would not this bright and beautiful land bear the mult.i.tude of prisons that darken the sunshine in every town and village; and speedily the very use for them would be forgotten; for man's heart, enn.o.bled by freedom, would forget crime; or crime, punished on the spot, would be a lesson far more awful. Now ye debase yourselves and your fellow-creatures, and expect them to act n.o.bly; ye punish the innocent with the worst of punishments, and expect them to refrain from guilt. If I am innocent of the crime with which I am charged,--and G.o.d knows, and ye all know, that I am,--let me go free. If I be guilty, punish me with death, but take not away my liberty. Death were light, but one other night in a dungeon would crush my very soul!"

There was something so strong, so fiery, so impetuous, in the whole tone and manner of the gipsy, that the magistrates, taken by surprise, sat silent and attentive, till he had concluded an appeal which they certainly had not expected. "There is some reason in what you say,"

answered Mr. Simpson, mildly, "and, perhaps, if we had tasted a few hours' imprisonment ourselves, we should not be so ready to send others to that fate, as we are found too often. However, now answer me, prisoner: you have declared that if the murderer of the late Lord Dewry were set before you, you could recognise him, and swear to him.

I ask you, therefore, do you see him now?"

A powerful emotion, which he could not resist, made the peer suddenly turn away, as the magistrate thus addressed the gipsy; and Pharold's dark keen eyes fixed sternly upon him. For several long, terrible, anxious moments the gipsy was silent, and many were the strong and agitating pa.s.sions which struggled in his heart, and threw their alternate shadows over his countenance; but at length he replied, in a low but solemn and distinct voice, "I have said that I could tell, but I have not said that I would; and I now say that, come what will to myself, I will accuse no man."

The magistrates gazed at each other for a brief s.p.a.ce, both surprised and perplexed; but at that moment there was heard the sound of chariot-wheels, the step of a carriage violently thrown down, and a considerable bustle and speaking in the pa.s.sages beyond. The next instant the door of the hall was thrown open, and a gentleman entered, with his hat still on his head, and a large fur cloak cast round him, as he had got out of his carriage.

"I really must have the hall kept clear," exclaimed Mr. Simpson. "We are here in private deliberation, and no one must be admitted."

The stranger, however, without paying the slightest attention, walked straight up the middle of the hall; and laying his hand upon the gipsy's arm, as he pa.s.sed the spot where he stood, "I have come," he said, "to deliver an innocent man." The next moment he advanced to the table; and taking off his hat gazed round upon the magistrates.

The effect produced upon several persons present was no less strange than sudden. The peer, with a countenance as pale as ashes, a quivering lip and haggard eye, staggered up from his seat, grasped the arm of the intruder, and holding him at arm's length, gazed in his face, with an expression of doubt, and surprise, and horror. Mr. Arden rubbed the gla.s.ses of his spectacles, exclaiming, "Good G.o.d! good G.o.d!

This is very strange! It can't be--no, it can't be!"

"It is! it is!" exclaimed the peer, falling back into his chair, and covering his eyes with his hands. "It is! it is! thank G.o.d! oh! thank G.o.d!" and the deep groan which accompanied his expression of joy, far from lessening its force, seemed to speak that the load of worlds was taken off his heart.

"In the name of Heaven, sir, who are you?" exclaimed one of the younger magistrates.

"Who is he?" exclaimed the gipsy, "who should he be, but William Lord Dewry. There are plenty here who must know him well."

"And none better than myself," cried Mr. Arden. "My Lord, are you living or dead?"

"Living, sir," replied the person whom we have hitherto known by the name of Sir William Ryder. "Had I not believed, gentlemen, that in this hall I have as much right as any one, I should not have intruded upon your deliberations; but as I learned this morning that my friend Pharold here, to whom I owe my life, was brought before you on a charge of taking it, I felt myself bound to interfere.

You must, therefore, permit me to be present at your further deliberations.--Edward," he continued, turning to his brother, "you had better retire. We have matter for much thought and for much emotion between us, which were as well confined to ourselves alone."

"But, my lord'. but, my lord!" exclaimed Mr. Arden, "here is an accusation made formally against your brother, also, of the same crime with which the gipsy was charged."

"Who made it?" exclaimed Lord Dewry, looking somewhat reproachfully at Pharold.

"Not I," answered the gipsy,--"I bring a false accusation against no man."

"At all events, sir," rejoined the peer, turning to Mr. Arden, "it must be sufficiently evident to all, that my brother, whatever may have been our personal differences, cannot be guilty of my murder, as I am here alive and well. I say again, therefore, that you had better retire, Edward, and leave me to conclude this business as I see fit; unless, indeed," he added--"unless you are inclined to contest either my ident.i.ty or my rights."

"No, no, no!" cried the other, starting up vehemently, and clasping his hands together, while the burning tears of intense emotion rolled rapidly over his cheeks. "No, no! So help me G.o.d, I would not lose the knowledge that you are living for the highest rank and n.o.blest fortune that the earth could give; and I tell you, William, that to lay down at your feet that which I have wrongfully possessed, to give up to you wealth and station, and retire to poverty and obscurity, will be the happiest act of my whole life. It will! it will! as there is truth in Heaven, whatever my conduct heretofore may have caused you to believe--and now I leave you."

"That is one step at least," said the peer. "Fare you well for the present. I will join you soon.--And now, gentlemen," he continued, turning to the magistrates, as his brother, with a slow and faltering step, quitted the hall--"and now let us proceed, as quickly as possible, to render justice to a man who has been erroneously accused, and subjected already to some loss of liberty,--a loss which I know is more bitter to him than the loss of life would be."

"Why, my lord, one would think you had turned gipsy yourself," said Mr. Arden, "you speak so exactly the same sentiments which he has himself expressed."

"I have mingled much with persons who feel the same ardent love for uncontrolled liberty," replied the peer somewhat dryly, "and it is therefore that I wish at once to proceed to those matters which may instantly set this good and honest man at liberty. It is evident, gentlemen, that the charge against him must instantly be discharged, and therefore it may be better to order those unworthy handcuffs to be taken instantly from his wrists."

"Not so fast, my lord," said Mr. Arden, who was not well pleased with the tone in which the peer replied to him, and who had also a strong disposition to commit every one who was committable. "Although your sudden, miraculous, and very strange reappearance must of course put an end to all proceedings relative to a murder which has not taken place, yet there is another charge of a nature equally grave against the prisoner, which renders it impossible to discharge him in the summary method which you seem inclined to urge. There is a charge of deer-stealing followed by murder, in both of which crimes it is pretty evident that the prisoner has taken part. I should like to know, too, before I part with him, whether the whole story that he told of your being shot by a man on horseback had any foundation, or was a mere invention."

"In regard to the last point I will satisfy you at once," replied Lord Dewry, "as far as I ever intend to satisfy any one. I was met by a man on horseback, as I believe the gipsy told you, who demanded money of me, and on my refusing it, somewhat harshly indeed, he did fire at and wound me. My horse took fright, and plunged into the river; I fell from the saddle, deprived of all sense; and had not that good man, Pharold, leaped into the stream, dragged me out, and given me into the hands of those who tended me with kindness and wisdom, my fate would not have been doubtful for a moment. In regard to my after-conduct, private motives determined it, into which no one has any right to inquire. They were such as satisfied my own heart and my own understanding, and that is sufficient."

"And pray, my lord," demanded Mr. Arden, "were you acquainted with the person who wounded you? Could you swear to him?"

"I am not making a charge before you as a county magistrate," replied Lord Dewry; "but telling you an anecdote as an old acquaintance; and let me add, that my story is done. In regard to any further charge against Pharold, there is, I think, by this time sufficient evidence collected at the hall door to prove that he took no part either in the destruction of the deer or the violence offered to the gamekeepers. If you will order the persons who were present to be called in you will soon be satisfied."

"I beg your pardon, my lord," said Mr. Simpson: "I am most happy to see you once again, when such a thing appeared impossible; but still I am afraid the course you suggest cannot be pursued."

"And why not, sir?" demanded Lord Dewry: "I believe that I have the pleasure of speaking to Mr. Simpson, though time has somewhat altered his features: if so, I address both a humane and reasonable man; and I ask why cannot the plain and straightforward course I propose be pursued at once?"

"Let them have their way, William de Vaux! Let them have their way!"

cried the gipsy, whose dark features had been working under the influence of many a contending pa.s.sion since his friend had appeared.

"Let them have their way! One and all they are set in their own hearts to do injustice. What, indeed, are they there for, but to dispense that kind of injustice that you call law? Let them have their way!

They are but working out the inevitable will of fate; and though they bring the curse of innocent blood upon their head, they needs must do it."

"If your lordship, during your long absence, have not forgot entirely the customs of this country," replied Mr. Simpson, as soon as he could make himself heard, "you will perceive at once, that, as one of the unfortunate victims of this deer-stealing affray has died in this very house, not half an hour ago, it is our bounden duty not to discharge a prisoner against whom a charge upon oath of partic.i.p.ation in the crime has been made by an eyewitness, until the coroner shall have sat upon the body, and returned a verdict; nor have we, I believe, any right to take the matter out of the coroner's hands, by previously examining the witnesses, which must afterward appear before his jury. I am grieved to oppose you, I am grieved to inflict further imprisonment on a man of whose innocence I do not entertain any strong doubts; but Harvey, the head keeper, has sworn that the prisoner was present, aiding and abetting, when Sir Roger Millington was wounded, and we should not be justified even in receiving bail till the coroner's jury have returned their verdict."

Lord Dewry bit his lip, and remained silent for a few moments, while Mr. Arden rubbed his hands, and elevated his eyebrows with the air of a man who considers all opposition as silenced; and the gipsy eyed the bench of magistrates with a look in which scorn was the only expression that tempered hatred and indignation. "Pray, sir, how long must it be ere the coroner can be summoned?" demanded the peer. "You know not what you are inflicting upon a man as honest as any one present. To him every hour of his freedom is more than life; and I could give you fully sufficient proof to show that while his innocence of the crime charged against him is clear, the punishment inflicted on him by imprisonment cannot be estimated by the feelings of other men under such circ.u.mstances."

"The coroner cannot even be summoned to-day, my lord," replied Mr.

Arden; "and, consequently, it must be to-morrow or the next day ere the gipsy can be liberated, even if the result be as favourable to him as you expect. But what are two or three days spent in a snug warm room to a man who has never known any thing better than a hovel in a sandpit? Where is the great hardship? I see no very severe infliction."

"To him it is the most severe," replied Lord Dewry; "and if it be possible--"

"Cease, cease, William," cried Pharold, in a bitter and earnest tone; "you degrade those n.o.ble lips by pleading in vain to men who can neither understand your heart nor mine. Besides, it matters not, it matters not. The long weary line of life has come to its end with me.

All that I had to do is done. I have seen you break through all your good and wise designs, all your humane and generous scruples, for the purpose of defending and delivering me; I have seen you return to your home, and claim your own; and so far I have seen my utmost desire. But hear what I have seen more," he continued with a rising tone, while his eye flashed, his dark cheek flushed, and his brows knit together--"hear what I have seen more, William de Vaux, and then see whether I ought to care for anything else after. I have seen my people mock my care, and refuse my counsels! I have seen one of my own tribe betray me, in order to liberate himself! I have seen the wife of my bosom take part in the scheme for delivering me over to imprisonment and death, by the means of my best affections! I have spent a whole bright autumn night in a prison! I come forth into the day with bonds upon my hands, and I hear myself condemned, without crime, to the torture of a longer slavery in chains and stone walls!"

As he went on, he spoke more and more rapidly, and his eye rolled over the magistrates, as he lashed himself into phrensy, by a recapitulation of his sufferings and his wrongs. "But think not," he continued furiously, "think not that bolts, or bars, or walls shall keep me in another night, in the living tomb into which ye have thrust me! No, no, there is always a way for a bold heart to set itself free!

Thus, thus I spurn your chains from me!" and by one great effort of skill and strength he slipped his hands out of the handcuffs, which were somewhat too large, and dashed them down into the midst of the hall.

"Constables! constables!" shouted Mr. Arden.

"You call in vain, hard, stone-hearted man," cried Pharold, shaking his clenched hand at him, "you call in vain;" and bounding to the side of the hall on which the tall windows had been thrown open, he set one foot upon the secretary's table, and with a single spring reached the high window sill, catching with his hand the small stone column on which the cas.e.m.e.nts hung. There he paused for one moment; and turning his head, exclaimed, "William de Vaux, n.o.ble William de Vaux, farewell,--for ever, and ever, and ever, farewell."

He let go his hold: he sprang forward, and was lost to the sight. The next moment the dull heavy splash of a large body falling into the water rose up and was carried by the wind through the open windows into the justice-room.

"Run round, run round," cried Mr. Arden to the constables, who were now hurrying in; "he has escaped through the window; run round there by the outside."

One or two instantly followed these directions; but another sprang up to the window to mark the course of the fugitive, and point it out to the pursuers.

"He must have jumped into the stream, gentlemen," said the man, turning to speak to the magistrates, as soon as he had reached the spot where Pharold had stood the moment before. "He must have jumped into the stream, for there is not footing for a mouse."

"He did, he did: we heard him," answered Mr. Arden. "Look out, and see where he comes to land. My lord, why do you cover your face with your hand? you seem more sorry for the prisoner's escape than I antic.i.p.ated."