East Lynne [224]
was much occupied, putting, to use nearly Ebenezer James' words, that and that together. Later in the day he took a journey to Levison Park, ferreted out some information, and came home again. On that same day, at evening, Richard departed for Liverpool--he was done with for the present--Mr. and Mrs. Carlyle being, as before, alone cognizant of his address.
Wednesday morning witnessed the arrival again of the Earl of Mount Severn. Lord Vane, too. The latter ought to have gone back to Eton, but he had teased and prayed to be allowed to "see the fun out," meaning the election. "And that devil's discomfiture when he finds himself beaten," he surreptitiously added, behind his father's back, who was a great stickler for the boy's always being "gentlemanly." So the earl had yielded. They arrived, as before, about breakfast-time, having traveled all night. Subsequently, they and Mr. Carlyle walked into West Lynne together.
West Lynne was alive and astir. The election was to come off that week, and people made it their business to be in a bustle over it, collectively and individually. Mr. Carlyle's committee sat at the Buck's Head, and the traffic in and out was enough to wear the stones away. The bench of justices were remarkably warm over it, neglecting the judicial business, and showing themselves at the Buck's Head windows in purple and scarlet streamers.
"I will be with you in ten minutes," said Mr. Carlyle, withdrawing his arm from Lord Mount Severn's, as they approached his office, "but I must go in and read my letters."
So the earl went on to the Buck's Head, and Lord Vane took a foot canter down to the Raven, to reconnoiter it outside. He was uncommonly fond of planting himself where Sir Francis Levison's eyes were sure to fall upon him--which eyes were immediately dropped, while the young gentleman's would be fixed in an audacious stare. Being Lord Vane--or it may be more correct to say, being the Earl of Mount Severn's son, and under control, he was debarred from dancing and jeering after the yellow candidate, as the unwashed gentry of his own age indulged in, but his tongue and his feet itched to do it.
Mr. Carlyle took his seat in his private room, opened his letters, assorted them, marked on the back of some what was to be the purport of their answer, and then called in Mr. Dill. Mr. Carlyle put the letters in his hand, gave some rapid instructions, and rose.
"You are in a hurry, Mr. Archibald?"
"They want me at the Buck's Head. Why?"
"A curious incident occurred to me last evening, sir. I was an ear- witness to a dispute between Levison and Otway Bethel."
"Indeed!" carelessly replied Mr. Carlyle, who was busy at the time looking for something in the deep drawer of the desk.
"And what I heard would go far to hang Levison, if not Bethel. As sure as we are here, Mr. Archibald, they hold the secret of Hallijohn's murder. It appears that Levison--"
"Stop!" interposed Mr. Carlyle. "I would prefer not to hear this. Levison may have murdered him, but it is no affair of mine, neither shall I make it such."
Old Dill felt checkmated. "Meanwhile Richard Hare suffers, Mr. Archibald," he observed, in a remonstrating tone.
"I am aware he does."
"Is it right that the innocent should suffer for the guilty?"
"No; very wrong. But the case is all too common."
"If some one would take up Richard Hare's cause now, he might be proved innocent," added the old man, with a wistful look at Mr. Carlyle.
"It is being taken up, Dill."
A pause and a glad look. "That's the best news I have had for many a day, sir. But my evidence will be necessary to your case. Levison--"
"I'm not taking up the case. You must carry your news elsewhere. It is no affair of mine, I say."
"Then who is taking it up?" echoed Mr. Dill, in astonishment.
"Ball. He has had a meeting with Richard, and is now acting for him under the rose."
Mr. Dill's eyes sparkled. "Is he going to prosecute, Mr. Archibald?"
"I tell you I know nothing--I will know nothing. When the affair comes out to the public--if it ever
Wednesday morning witnessed the arrival again of the Earl of Mount Severn. Lord Vane, too. The latter ought to have gone back to Eton, but he had teased and prayed to be allowed to "see the fun out," meaning the election. "And that devil's discomfiture when he finds himself beaten," he surreptitiously added, behind his father's back, who was a great stickler for the boy's always being "gentlemanly." So the earl had yielded. They arrived, as before, about breakfast-time, having traveled all night. Subsequently, they and Mr. Carlyle walked into West Lynne together.
West Lynne was alive and astir. The election was to come off that week, and people made it their business to be in a bustle over it, collectively and individually. Mr. Carlyle's committee sat at the Buck's Head, and the traffic in and out was enough to wear the stones away. The bench of justices were remarkably warm over it, neglecting the judicial business, and showing themselves at the Buck's Head windows in purple and scarlet streamers.
"I will be with you in ten minutes," said Mr. Carlyle, withdrawing his arm from Lord Mount Severn's, as they approached his office, "but I must go in and read my letters."
So the earl went on to the Buck's Head, and Lord Vane took a foot canter down to the Raven, to reconnoiter it outside. He was uncommonly fond of planting himself where Sir Francis Levison's eyes were sure to fall upon him--which eyes were immediately dropped, while the young gentleman's would be fixed in an audacious stare. Being Lord Vane--or it may be more correct to say, being the Earl of Mount Severn's son, and under control, he was debarred from dancing and jeering after the yellow candidate, as the unwashed gentry of his own age indulged in, but his tongue and his feet itched to do it.
Mr. Carlyle took his seat in his private room, opened his letters, assorted them, marked on the back of some what was to be the purport of their answer, and then called in Mr. Dill. Mr. Carlyle put the letters in his hand, gave some rapid instructions, and rose.
"You are in a hurry, Mr. Archibald?"
"They want me at the Buck's Head. Why?"
"A curious incident occurred to me last evening, sir. I was an ear- witness to a dispute between Levison and Otway Bethel."
"Indeed!" carelessly replied Mr. Carlyle, who was busy at the time looking for something in the deep drawer of the desk.
"And what I heard would go far to hang Levison, if not Bethel. As sure as we are here, Mr. Archibald, they hold the secret of Hallijohn's murder. It appears that Levison--"
"Stop!" interposed Mr. Carlyle. "I would prefer not to hear this. Levison may have murdered him, but it is no affair of mine, neither shall I make it such."
Old Dill felt checkmated. "Meanwhile Richard Hare suffers, Mr. Archibald," he observed, in a remonstrating tone.
"I am aware he does."
"Is it right that the innocent should suffer for the guilty?"
"No; very wrong. But the case is all too common."
"If some one would take up Richard Hare's cause now, he might be proved innocent," added the old man, with a wistful look at Mr. Carlyle.
"It is being taken up, Dill."
A pause and a glad look. "That's the best news I have had for many a day, sir. But my evidence will be necessary to your case. Levison--"
"I'm not taking up the case. You must carry your news elsewhere. It is no affair of mine, I say."
"Then who is taking it up?" echoed Mr. Dill, in astonishment.
"Ball. He has had a meeting with Richard, and is now acting for him under the rose."
Mr. Dill's eyes sparkled. "Is he going to prosecute, Mr. Archibald?"
"I tell you I know nothing--I will know nothing. When the affair comes out to the public--if it ever