"That is between you and me, sir. You will find a bystander may shoot a malefactor to save the life of a citizen. Confine your defense, at present, to the point at issue. Have you any excuse, as against this young man?" (To Henry.)--"You look pale. You can sit down till your turn comes."
"Not in this house."
"And why not in this house, pray? Is your own house a better?"
No answer from Henry. A look of amazement and alarm from Grace.
But she was afraid to utter a word, after the admonition she had received.
"Well, sir," said Cole, "he was desecrating a church."
"So he was, and I shall talk to him in his turn. But you desecrated it worse. He turned it into a blacksmith shop; you turned it into a shambles. I shall commit you. You will be taken to Hillsborough to-morrow; to-night you will remain in my strong-room. Fling him down a mattress and some blankets, and give him plenty to eat and drink; I wouldn't starve the devil on old Christmas Eve. There, take him away. Stop; search his pockets before you leave him alone."
Cole was taken away, and Henry's turn came.
Just before this examination commenced, Grace clasped her hands, and cast a deprecating look on Henry, as much as to say, "Be moderate."
And then her eyes roved to and fro, and the whole woman was in arms, and on the watch.
Mr. Raby began on him. "As for you, your offense is not so criminal in the eye of the law; but it is bad enough; you have broken into a church by unlawful means; you have turned it into a smithy, defiled the graves of the dead, and turned the tomb of a good knight into an oven, to the scandal of men and the dishonor of god. Have you any excuse to offer?"
"Plenty. I was plying an honest trade, in a country where ******* is the law. The Hillsborough Unions combined against me, and restrained my *******, and threatened my life, ay, and attempted my life too, before to-day: and so the injustice and cruelty of men drove me to a sanctuary, me and my livelihood. Blame the Trades, blame the public laws, blame the useless police: but you can't blame me; a man must live."
"Why not set up your shop in the village? Why wantonly desecrate a church?"
"The church was more secret, and more safe: and nobody worships in it. The wind and the weather are allowed to destroy it; you care so little for it you let it molder; then why howl if a fellow uses it and keeps it warm?"
At this sally there was a broad rustic laugh, which, however, Mr. Raby quelled with one glance of his eye.
"Come, don't be impertinent," said he to Little.
"Then don't you provoke a fellow," cried Henry, raising his voice.
Grace clasped her hands in dismay.
Jael Dence said, in her gravest and most mellow voice, "You do forget the good Squire saved your life this very night."
This was like oil on all the waters.
"Well, certainly I oughtn't to forget that," said Henry, apologetically. Then he appealed piteously to Jael, whose power over him struck every body directly, including Grace Carden. "Look here, you mustn't think, because I don't keep howling, I'm all right. My arm is disabled: my back is almost broken: my thigh is cut. I'm in sharp pain, all this time: and that makes a fellow impatient of being lectured on the back of it all. Why doesn't he let me go? I don't want to affront him now. All I want is to go and get nursed a bit somewhere."
"Now that is the first word of reason and common sense you have uttered, young man. It decides me not to detain you. All I shall do, under the circumstances, is to clear your rubbish out of that holy building, and watch it by night as well as day. Your property, however, shall be collected, and delivered to you uninjured: so oblige me with your name and address."
Henry made no reply.
Raby turned his eye full upon him.
"Surely you do not object to tell me your name."
"I do."
"Why?"
"Excuse me."
"What are you afraid of? Do you doubt my word, when I tell you I shall not proceed against you?"
"No: it is not that at all. But this is no place for me to utter my father's name. We all have our secrets, sir. You have got yours.
There's a picture, with its face to the wall. Suppose I was to ask you to tell all the world whose face it is you insult and hide from the world?"
Raby turned red with wrath and surprise, at this sudden thrust.
"You insolent young scoundrel!" he cried. "What is that to you, and what connection can there be between that portrait and a man in your way of life?"
"There's a close connection," said Henry, trembling with anger, in his turn: "and the proof is that, when that picture is turned to the light, I'll tell you my name: and, till that picture is turned to the light, I'll not tell you my name; and if any body here knows my name, and tells it you, may that person's tongue be blistered at the root!"
"Oh, how fearful!" cried Grace, turning very pale. "But I'll put an end to it all. I've got the key, and I've his permission, and I'll--oh, Mr. Raby, there's something more in this than we know." She darted to the picture, and unlocked the padlock, and, with Jael's assistance, began to turn the picture. Then Mr. Raby rose and seemed to bend his mind inward, but he neither forbade, nor encouraged, this impulsive act of Grace Carden's.
Now there was not a man nor a woman in the room whose curiosity had not been more or less excited about this picture; so there was a general movement toward it, of all but Mr. Raby, who stood quite still, turning his eye inward, and evidently much moved, though passive.
There happened to be a strong light upon the picture, and the lovely olive face, the vivid features, and glorious black eyes and eyebrows, seemed to flash out of the canvas into life.
