Sister Gratiosa has convinced me I ought to labor for the eternal welfare of the guilty, unhappy man whose name it is my misfortune to bear. I will try to do so: but nobody shall either compel, or persuade me, to be cruel to my dear Henry, to whom I owe my life once more, and who is all the world to me. I shall now be employed nearly all the day, but I reserve two hours, from three till five, when you will always find me at home. Our course is clear. We must pray for patience.
"Yours to eternity, GRACE."
After reading this letter, and pondering it well, Henry Little's fortitude revived, and, as he could not speak his mind to Grace at that moment, he wrote to her, after some hours of reflection, as follows:
"MY OWN DEAREST GRACE,--I approve, I bless you. Our case is hard, but not desperate. We have been worse off than we are now. I agree with you that our course is clear; what we have got to do, as I understand it, is to outlive a crippled scoundrel. Well, love and a clear conscience will surely enable us to outlive a villain, whose spine is injured, and whose conscience must gnaw him, and who has no creature's love to nourish him.
"Yours in this world, and, I hope, in the next, "HENRY."
Sister Gratiosa, to oblige Grace stayed at Woodbine Villa. She was always present at any interview of Coventry and Grace.
Little softened her, by giving her money whenever she mentioned a case of distress. She had but this one pleasure in life, a pure one, and her poverty had always curbed it hard. She began to pity this poor sinner, who was ready to pour his income into her lap for Christian purposes.
And so the days rolled on. Raby took into his head to repair the old church, and be married in it. This crotchet postponed his happiness for some months.
But the days and weeks rolled on.
Raby became Sheriff of the county.
Coventry got a little better, and moved to the next villa.
Then Grace returned at once to Woodbine Villa; but she still paid charitable visits with Sister Gratiosa to the wreck whose name she bore.
She was patient.
But Little, the man of action, began to faint.
He decided to return to the United States for a year or two, and distract his mind.
When he communicated this resolve, Grace sighed.
"The last visit there was disastrous," said she. "But," recovering herself, "we can not be deceived again, nor doubt each other's constancy again." So she sighed, but consented.
Coventry heard of it, and chuckled inwardly. He felt sure that in time he should wear out his rival's patience.
A week or two more, and Little named the very day for sailing.
The Assizes came on. The Sheriff met the Judges with great pomp, and certain observances which had gone out. This pleased the Chief Justice; he had felt a little nervous; Raby's predecessor had met him in a carriage and pair and no outriders, and he had felt it his duty to fine the said Sheriff L100 for so disrespecting the Crown in his person.
So now, alluding to this, he said, "Mr. Sheriff, I am glad to find you hold by old customs, and do not grudge outward observances to the Queen's justices."
"My lord," said the Sheriff, "I can hardly show enough respect to justice and learning, when they visit in the name of my sovereign."
"That is very well said, Mr. Sheriff," said my lord.
The Sheriff bowed.
The Chief Justice was so pleased with his appearance, and his respectful yet dignified manner, that he conversed with him repeatedly during the pauses of the trials.
Little was cording his boxes for America when Ransome burst in on him, and said, "Come into court; come into court. Shifty **** will be up directly."
Little objected that he was busy; but Ransome looked so mortified that he consented, and was just in in time to see Richard Martin, alias Lord Daventree, alias Tom Paine, alias Sir Harry Gulstone, alias the Quaker, alias Shifty ****, etc., etc., appear at the bar.
The indictment was large, and charged the prisoner with various frauds of a felonious character, including his two frauds on the Gosshawk.
Counsel made a brief exposition of the facts, and then went into the evidence. But here the strict, or, as some think, pedantic rules of English evidence, befriended the prisoner, and the Judge objected to certain testimony on which the prosecution had mainly relied. As for the evidence of coining, the flood had swept all that away.
Ransome, who was eager for a conviction, began to look blue.
But presently a policeman, who had been watching the prisoner, came and whispered in his ear.
Up started Ransome, wrote the Crown solicitor a line, begging him to keep the case on its legs anyhow for half an hour, and giving his reason. He then dashed off in a cab.
The case proceeded, under discouraging remarks from the Judge, most of them addressed to the evidence; but he also hinted that the indictment was rather loosely drawn.
At last the Attorney-General, who led, began to consult with his junior whether they could hope for a conviction.
But now there was a commotion; then heads were put together, and, to the inexpressible surprise of young Little and of the Sheriff, Grace Coventry was put into the witness-box.
At the sight of her the learned Judge, who was, like most really great lawyers, a keen admirer of beautiful women, woke up, and became interested.
After the usual preliminaries, counsel requested her to look at that man, and say whether she knew him.
Grace looked, and recognized him. "Yes," said she, "it is Mr. Beresford; he is a clergyman."
Whereupon there was a loud laugh.
Counsel. "What makes you think he is a clergyman?"
Witness. "I have seen him officiate. It was he who married me to Mr.--" Here she caught sight of Henry, and stopped, blushing.
"What is that?" said the Judge, keenly. "Did you say that man performed the marriage ceremony over you?"
"Yes, my lord."
"When and where was that?"
She gave the time and place.
"I should like to see the register of that parish."
