During the next, and for many ensuing days, the lodge was assailed by
very many anxious and sympathizing inquirers, who were answered by
Waters, whom Mr. Aubrey--oppressed by the number of friends who hurried
up to the Hall, and insisted upon seeing him to ascertain the extent to
which the dreadful rumors were correct--had stationed there during the
day to afford the requisite information. The Hall was pervaded by a
gloom which could be _felt_. Every servant had a woe-begone look, and
moved about as if a funeral were stirring. Little Charles and Agnes,
almost imprisoned in their nursery, seemed quite puzzled and confused at
the strange unusual seriousness, and quietness, and melancholy faces
everywhere about them. Kate romped not with them as had been her wont;
but would constantly burst into tears as she held them on her knee or in
her arms, trying to evade the continual questioning of Charles. "I think
it will be time for _me_ to cry too, by-and-by!" said he to her one day,
with an air half in jest and half in earnest, that made poor Kate's
tears flow afresh. Sleepless nights and days of sorrow soon told upon
her appearance. Her glorious buoyancy of spirits, which erewhile, as it
were, had filled the whole Hall with gladness--where were they now? Ah,
me! the rich bloom had disappeared from her beautiful cheek; but her
high spirit, though oppressed, was not broken, and she stood firmly and
calmly amid the scowling skies and lowering tempests. You fancied you
saw her auburn tresses stirred upon her pale but calm brow by the breath
of the approaching storm; and that she also felt it, but trembled not,
gazing on it with a bright and steadfast eye. Her _heart_ might be,
indeed, bruised and shaken; but her _spirit_ was, ay, unconquerable. My
glorious Kate, how my heart goes forth towards you!

And thou, her brother, who art of kindred spirit; who art supported by
philosophy, and exalted by religion, so that thy constancy cannot be
shaken or overthrown by the black and ominous swell of trouble which is
increasing and closing around thee, I know that thou wilt outlive the
storm--and yet it rocks thee!

A month or two may see thee and thine expelled from Old Yatton, and not
merely having lost everything, but with a liability to thy successor
which will hang round thy neck like a millstone. What, indeed, is to
become of you all? Whither will you go? And your suffering mother,
should she indeed survive so long, is her precious form to be borne away
from Yatton?

Around thee stand those who, if thou fallest, will perish--and that thou
knowest; around thy calm, sorrowful, but erect figure, are a melancholy
group--thy afflicted mother--the wife of thy bosom--thy two little
children--thy brave and beautiful sister--Yet think not, Misfortune!
that over this man thou art about to achieve thy accustomed triumphs.
Here, behold, thou hast a MAN to contend with; nay, more, a CHRISTIAN
MAN, who hath calmly girded up his loins against the coming fight!

'Twas Sabbath evening, some five weeks or so after the happening of the
mournful events above commemorated, and Kate, having spent, as usual,
several hours keeping watch beside the silent and motionless figure of
her mother, had quitted the chamber for a brief interval, thinking to
relieve her oppressed spirits by walking, for a little while, up and
down the long gallery. Having slowly paced backwards and forwards once
or twice, she rested against the little oriel window at the farthest
extremity of the gallery, and gazed with saddened eye upon the setting
sun, till at length, in calm grandeur, it disappeared beneath the
horizon. 'Twas to Kate a solemn and mournful sign; especially followed
as it was by the deepening shadows and gloom of evening. She sighed, and
with her hands crossed on her bosom, gazed, with a tearful eye, into the
darkening sky, where glittered the brilliant evening star. Thus she
remained, a thousand pensive and tender thoughts passing through her
mind, till the increasing chills of evening warned her to retire. "I
will go," said she to herself, as she walked slowly along, "and try to
play the evening hymn--I may not have _many_ more opportunities!" With
this view, she gently opened the drawing-room door, and, glancing
around, found that she should be alone. The fire gave the only light.
She opened the organ with a sigh, and then sat down before it for some
minutes without touching the keys. At length she struck them very
gently, as if fearful of disturbing those who, she soon recollected,
were too distant to hear her. Ah! how many associations were stirred up
as she played over the simple and solemn air! At length, in a low and
rather tremulous voice, she began--

    "Soon will the evening star, with silver ray,
    Shed its mild radiance o'er the sacred day;
    Resume we, then, ere night and silence reign,
    The rites which holiness and heaven ordain"----

She sang the last line somewhat indistinctly; and, overcome by a flood
of tender recollections, ceased playing; then, leaning her head upon her
hand, she shed tears. At length she resumed--

    "Here humbly let us hope our Maker's smile
    Will crown with sweet success our earthly toil--
    And here, on each returning Sabbath, join"----

Here poor Kate's voice quivered--and after one or two ineffectual
attempts to sing the next line, she sobbed, and ceased playing. She
remained for several minutes, her face buried in her handkerchief,
shedding tears. At length, "I'll play the last verse," thought she, "and
then sit down before the fire, and read over the evening service,"
(feeling for her little prayer-book,) "before I return to poor mamma!"
With a firmer hand and voice she proceeded--

    "Father of Heaven! in whom our hopes confide,
    Whose power defends us, and whose precepts guide--
    In life our guardian, and in death our friend,
    Glory supreme be thine, till time shall end."

She played and sang these lines with a kind of solemn energy; and she
felt as if a ray of heavenly light had trembled for a moment upon her
upturned eye. She had not been, as she had supposed, alone; in the
farthest corner of the room had been all the while sitting her
brother--too exquisitely touched by the simplicity and goodness of his
sweet sister, to apprise her of his presence. Several times his feelings
had nearly overpowered him; and as she concluded, he arose from his
chair, and approaching her, after her first surprise was over,--"Heaven
bless you, dear Kate!" said he, taking her hands in his own. Neither of
them spoke for a few moments.

"I could not have sung a line, or played, if I had known that you were
here," said she, tremulously.

"I thought so, Kate, and therefore I remained silent"--

"I don't think I shall ever have heart to play again!" she replied--they
were both silent.

"Be assured, Kate, that submission to the will of God," said Mr. Aubrey,
as (he with his arm round his sister) they walked slowly to and fro, "is
the great lesson to be learned from the troubles of life; and for that
purpose they are sent. Let us bear up awhile; the waters will not go
over our heads!"

"I hope not," replied his sister, faintly, and in tears. "How did you
leave Agnes, Charles?"

"She was asleep; she is still very feeble"---- Here the door was
suddenly opened, and Miss Aubrey's maid entered hastily, exclaiming,
"Are you here, ma'am?--or sir?"

"Here we are," they replied, hurrying towards her; "what is the matter?"

"Oh, Madam is _talking_! She began speaking all of a sudden. She did,
indeed, sir. She's talking, and"---- continued the girl, almost
breathless.

"My mother talking!" exclaimed Aubrey, with an amazed air.

"Oh yes, sir! she is--she is, indeed!"

Miss Aubrey sank into her brother's arms, overcome for a moment with the
sudden and surprising intelligence.

"Rouse yourself, Kate!" he exclaimed with animation; "did I not tell you
that Heaven would not forget us? But I must hasten up-stairs, to hear
the joyful sounds with my own ears--and do you follow as soon as you
can." Leaving her in the care of her maid, he hastened out of the room,
and was soon at the door of his mother's chamber. He stood for a moment
in the doorway, and his straining ears caught the gentle tones of his
mother's voice, speaking in a low but cheerful tone. His knees trembled
beneath him with joyful excitement. Fearful of trusting himself in her
presence till he had become calmer, he noiselessly sank on the nearest
chair, with beating heart and straining ear--ay, every tone of that dear
voice thrilled through his heart. But I shall not torture myself or my
reader by dwelling upon the scene which ensued. Alas! the venerable
sufferer's tongue was indeed loosed;--but reason had fled! He
listened--he distinguished her words. She supposed that all her
children--dead and alive--were romping about her; she spoke of him and
his sister as she had spoken to them twenty years ago!

As soon as he had made this woful discovery, overwhelmed with grief, he
staggered out of the room; and motioning his sister, who was entering,
into an adjoining apartment, communicated to her, with great agitation,
the lamentable condition of their mother.

CHAPTER XII.

The chief corner-stone suddenly found wanting in the glittering fabric
of Mr. Titmouse's fortune, so that, to the eyes of its startled
architects, Messrs. Quirk, Gammon, and Snap, it seemed momentarily
threatening to tumble about their ears, was a certain piece of evidence
which, being a matter-of-fact man, I should like to explain to the
reader, before we get on any farther. In order, however, to do this
effectually, I must go back to an earlier period in the history than has
been yet called to his attention. I make no doubt, that by the
superficial and impatient _novel_-reader, certain portions of what has
gone before, and which could not fail of attracting the attention of
long-headed people, as not likely to have been thrown in for nothing,
(and therefore requiring to be borne in mind with a view to subsequent
explanation,) have been entirely overlooked or forgotten. However this
may be, I can fancy that the sort of reader whom I have in my eye, as
one whose curiosity it is worth some pains to excite, and sustain, has
more than once asked himself the following question, viz.--

How did Messrs. Quirk, Gammon, and Snap, first come to be acquainted
with the precarious tenure by which Mr. Aubrey held the Yatton
property?--Why, it chanced in this wise.

Mr. Parkinson of Grilston, who has been already introduced to the
reader, had succeeded to his father's first-rate business as a country
attorney and solicitor in Yorkshire. He was a highly honorable,
painstaking man, and deservedly enjoyed the entire confidence of all
his numerous and influential clients. Some twelve years before the
period at which this history commences, he had, from pure kindness,
taken into his service an orphan boy of the name of Steggars, at first
merely as a sort of errand-boy, and to look after the office. He soon,
however, displayed so much sharpness, and acquitted himself so
creditably in anything that he happened to be concerned in, a little
above the run of his ordinary duties, that in the course of a year or
two he became a sort of clerk, and sat and wrote at the desk it had
formerly been his sole province to dust. Higher and higher did he rise,
in process of time, in his master's estimation; and at length became
quite a _factotum_--as such, acquainted with the whole course of
business that passed through the office. Many interesting matters
connected with the circumstances and connections of the neighboring
nobility and gentry were thus constantly brought under his notice, and
now and then set him thinking whether the knowledge thus acquired could
not, in some way, and at some time or another, be turned to his own
advantage; for I am sorry to say that he was utterly unworthy of the
kindness and confidence of Mr. Parkinson, who little thought that in
Steggars he had to deal with--a rogue in grain. Such being his
character, and such his opportunities, this worthy had long made a
practice of minuting down, from time to time, anything of interest or
importance in the affairs of his betrayed master's clients--even
laboriously copying long documents, when he thought them of importance
enough for his purpose, and had the opportunity of doing so without
attracting the attention of Mr. Parkinson. He thus silently acquired a
mass of information which might have enabled him to occasion great
annoyance, and even inflict serious injury; and the precise object he
had in view, was either to force himself, hereafter, into partnership
with his employer, (provided he could get regularly introduced into the
profession,) or even compel his master's clients to receive him into
their confidence, adversely to Mr. Parkinson; and make it worth his
while to keep the secrets of which he had become possessed. So careful
ought to be, and indeed generally are, attorneys and solicitors, as to
the characters of those whom they thus receive into their employ. On the
occasion of Mr. Aubrey's intended marriage with Miss St. Clair, with a
view to the very liberal settlements which he contemplated, a full
"Abstract" of his "Title" was laid by Mr. Parkinson before his
conveyancer, in order to advise, and to prepare the necessary
instruments. Owing to inquiries suggested by the conveyancer, additional
statements were laid before him; and produced an opinion of a somewhat
unsatisfactory description, from which I shall lay before the reader the
following paragraph:--

     "...There seems no reason for supposing that any descendant of
     Stephen Dreddlington is now in existence;[22] still, _as it is by
     no means physically impossible that such a person may be in esse_,
     it would unquestionably be most important to the security of Mr.
     Aubrey's title, to establish clearly the validity of the conveyance
     by way of mortgage, executed by Harry Dreddlington, and which was
     afterwards assigned to Geoffrey Dreddlington on his paying off the
     money borrowed by his deceased uncle; since the descent of Mr.
     Aubrey from Geoffrey Dreddlington would, in that event, clothe him
     with an indefeasible title at law, by virtue of that deed; and any
     equitable rights which were originally outstanding, would be barred
     by lapse of time. But the difficulty occurring to my mind on this
     part of the case is, that unless Harry Dreddlington, who executed
     that deed of mortgage, survived his father, (a point on which I am
     surprised that I am furnished with no information,) the deed itself
     would have been mere waste parchment, as in reality the conveyance
     of a person who _never had any interest_ in the Yatton
     property--and, of course, neither Geoffrey Dreddlington, nor his
     descendant, Mr. Aubrey, could derive any right whatever under such
     an instrument. In that case, such a contingency as I have above
     hinted at--I mean the existence of any legitimate descendant of
     Stephen Dreddlington--_might have a most serious effect upon the
     rights of Mr. Aubrey_."

Now every line of this opinion, and also even of the Abstract of Title
upon which it was written, did this quicksighted young scoundrel copy
out, and deposit, as a great prize, in his desk, among other similar
notes and memoranda,--little wotting his master, the while, of what his
clerk was doing. Some year or two afterwards, the relationship
subsisting between Mr. Parkinson and his clerk Steggars, was suddenly
determined by a somewhat untoward event; viz. by the latter's decamping
with the sum of £700 sterling, being the amount of money due on a
mortgage which he had been sent to receive from a client of Mr.
Parkinson's. Steggars fled for it--but first having bethought himself of
the documents to which I have been alluding, and which he carried with
him to London. Hot pursuit was made after the enterprising Mr. Steggars,
who was taken into custody two or three days after his arrival in town,
while he was walking about the streets, with the whole of the sum which
he had embezzled, _minus_ a few pounds, upon his person, in bank-notes.
He was quickly deposited in Newgate. His natural sagacity assured him
that his case was rather an ugly one; but hope did not desert him.

"Well, my kiddy," said Grasp, the grim-visaged, gray-headed turnkey, as
soon as he had ushered Steggars into his snug little quarters; "here you
are, you see--isn't you?"

"I think I am," replied Steggars, with a sigh.

"Well--and if you want to have a chance of not going across the water
afore your time, you'll get yourself _defended_, and the sooner the
better, d'ye see. There's _Quirk_, _Gammon_, and _Snap_--my eyes! how
they _do_ thin this here place of ours, to be sure! The only thing is to
get 'em soon; 'cause, ye see, they're so run after. Shall I send them to
you?"

Steggars answered eagerly in the affirmative. In order to account for
this spontaneous good-nature on the part of Grasp, I must explain that
old Mr. Quirk had for years secured a highly respectable criminal
practice, by having in his interest most of the officers attached to the
police-offices and Newgate. He gave, in fact, systematic gratuities to
these gentry, in order to get their recommendations to the persecuted
individuals who came into their power. Very shortly after Grasp's
messenger had reached Saffron Hill, with the intelligence that "there
was _something new in the trap_," old Quirk bustled down to Newgate, and
was introduced to Steggars, with whom he was closeted for some time. He
took a lively interest in his new client, to whose narrative of his
flight and capture he listened in a very kind and sympathizing way,
lamenting the severity of the late statute applicable to the case;[23]
and promised to do for him whatever his little skill and experience
_could_ do. He hinted however, that, as Mr. Steggars must be aware, a
_little_ ready money would be required, in order to fee counsel--whereat
Steggars looked very dismal indeed, and knowing the state of his
exchequer, imagined himself already on shipboard, on his way to Botany
Bay. Old Mr. Quirk asked him if he had no friends who would raise a
trifle for a "chum in trouble,"--and on Mr. Steggars answering in the
negative, he observed the enthusiasm of the respectable old gentleman
visibly and rapidly cooling down.

"But I'll tell you what, sir," said poor Steggars, suddenly, "if I
haven't money, I may have _money's worth_ at my command;--I've a little
box, that's at my lodging, which those that catched me knew nothing
of--and in which there is a trifle or two about the families and
fortunes of some of the first folk in the best part of Yorkshire, that
would be precious well worth looking after, to those who know how to
follow up such matters."

Old Quirk hereat pricked up his ears, and asked his young friend how he
got possessed of such secrets.

"Oh fie! fie!" said he, gently, as soon as Steggars had told him the
practices of which I have already put the reader in possession.

"Ah--you may say fie! fie! if you like," quoth Steggars, earnestly; "but
the thing is, not how they were come by, but what can be done with them,
now they're got. For example, there's a certain member of parliament in
Yorkshire, that, high as he may hold his head, has no more right to the
estates that yield him a good ten thousand a-year than I have, but keeps
some folk out of their own, that could pay some other folk a round sum
to be put in the way of getting their own;" and that--intimated the
suffering captive--was only _one_ of the good things he knew of. Here
old Quirk rubbed his chin, hemmed, fidgeted about in his seat, took off
his glasses, wiped them, replaced them; and presently went through that
ceremony again. He then said that he had had the honor of being
concerned for a great number of gentlemen in Mr. Steggars' "present
embarrassed circumstances," but who had always been able to command at
least a five-pound note, at starting, to run a heat for liberty.

"Come, come, old gentleman," quoth Steggars, earnestly, "I don't want to
go over the water before my time, if I can help it, I assure you; and I
see you know the value of what I've got! Such a gentleman as you can
turn every bit of paper I have in my box into a fifty-pound note."

"All this is moonshine, my young friend," said old Quirk, in an
irresolute tone and manner.

"Ah! is it, though? To be able to tell the owner of a fat ten thousand
a-year, that you can spring a mine under his feet at any
moment--eh?--and no one ever know how you came by your knowledge. And if
they wouldn't do what was handsome, couldn't you _get the right
heir_--and wouldn't _that_--Lord! it would make the fortunes of
half-a-dozen of the first houses in the profession!" Old Quirk got a
little excited.

"But mind, sir--you see"--said Steggars, "if I get off, I'm not to be
cut out of the thing altogether--eh? I shall look to be taken into your
employ, and dealt handsomely by"----

"Oh Lord!" exclaimed Quirk, involuntarily--adding quickly, "Yes, yes! to
be sure! only fair; but let us first get you out of your present
difficulty, you know!" Steggars, having first exacted from him a written
promise to use his utmost exertions on his (Steggars') behalf, and
secure him the services of two of the most eminent Old Bailey
counsel--viz. Mr. Bluster and Mr. Slang--gave Mr. Quirk the number of
the house where the precious box was, and a written order to the
landlord to deliver it up to the bearer: after which Mr. Quirk shook him
cordially by the hand, and having quitted the prison, made his way
straight to the house in question, and succeeded in obtaining what he
asked for. He faithfully performed his agreement, with Steggars; for he
retained both Bluster and Slang for him, and got up their briefs with
care: but, alas! although these eminent men exerted all their great
powers, they succeeded not in either bothering the judge, bamboozling
the jury, or browbeating the witnesses, (the principal one of whom was
Mr. Parkinson;) Steggars was found guilty and sentenced to be
transported for fourteen years.[24] Enraged at this issue, he sent a
message the next day to Mr. Quirk, requesting a visit from him. When he
arrived, Steggars, in a very violent tone, demanded that his papers
should be returned to him. 'Twas in vain that Mr. Quirk explained to him
again and again his interesting position with reference to his goods,
chattels, and effects--_i. e._ that, as a convicted felon, he had no
further concern with them, and might dismiss all anxiety on that score
from his mind. Steggars hereat got more furious than before, and
intimated plainly the course he should feel it his duty to pursue--viz.
that, if the papers in question were not given up to him as he desired,
he should at once write off to his late employer, Mr. Parkinson, and
acknowledge how much more he (Steggars) had wronged that gentleman and
his clients, than he supposed of. Old Quirk very feelingly represented
to him that he was at liberty to do anything that he thought calculated
to relieve his excited feelings: and then Mr. Quirk took a final
farewell of his client, wishing him health and happiness.

"I say, Grasp!" said he, in a whisper, to that grim functionary, as soon
as he had secured poor Steggars in his cell, "that bird is a little
ruffled just now--isn't he, think you?"

"Lud, sir, that's the nat'ralist thing in the world, considering"----

"Well--if he should want a letter taken to any one, whatever he may say
to the contrary, you'll send it on to Saffron Hill--eh? Understand?--He
may be injuring himself, you know;" and old Quirk with one hand clasped
the huge arm of Grasp in a familiar way, and with the forefinger of the
other touched his own nose, and then winked his eye.

"All right!" quoth Grasp, and they parted. Within a very few hours'
time, Mr. Quirk received, by the hand of a trusty messenger, from Grasp,
a letter written by Steggars to Mr. Parkinson; a long and eloquent
letter, to the purport and effect which Steggars had intimated. Mr.
Quirk read it with much satisfaction, for it disclosed a truly penitent
feeling, and a desire to undo as much mischief as the writer had done.
He (Mr. Quirk) was not in the least exasperated by certain very plain
terms in which his own name was mentioned; but making all due
allowances, quietly put the letter in the fire as soon as he had read
it. In due time Mr. Steggars, whose health had suffered from close
confinement, caught frequent whiffs of the fresh sea-breeze, having set
out, under most favorable auspices, for Botany Bay; to which distant but
happy place, he had been thus fortunate in early securing an
"_appointment_" for so considerable a portion of his life.

Such, then, were the miserable means by which Mr. Quirk became
acquainted with the exact state of Mr. Aubrey's title; on first becoming
apprised of which, Mr. Gammon either felt, or affected, great repugnance
to taking any part in the affair. He appeared to suffer himself, at
length, however, to be over-persuaded by Quirk into acquiescence; and,
that point gained--having ends in view of which Mr. Quirk had not the
least conception, and which, in fact, had but suddenly occurred to Mr.
Gammon himself--worked his materials with a caution, skill, energy, and
perseverance, which soon led to important results. Guided by the
suggestions of acute and experienced counsel, after much pains and
considerable expense, they had succeeded in discovering that precious
specimen of humanity, Tittlebat Titmouse, who hath already figured so
prominently in this history. When they came to set down on paper the
result of all their researches and inquiries, in order to submit it in
the shape of a case for the opinion of Mr. Mortmain and Mr. Frankpledge,
in the manner described in a former part of this history, it looked
perfect _on paper_, as many a faulty pedigree and abstract of title had
looked before, and will yet look. It was quite possible for even Mr.
Tresayle himself to overlook the defect which had been pointed out by
Mr. Subtle. That which is stated to a conveyancer, as _a fact_--any
particular event, for instance, as of a death, a birth, or a marriage,
at a particular time or place, which the very nature of the case renders
highly probable--he is warranted in assuming to be so. But when the same
statement comes--with quite a different object--under the experienced
eye of a _nisi prius_ lawyer, who knows that he will have to _prove_ his
case, step by step, the aspect of things is soon changed. "De non
_apparentibus_, et de non _existentibus_," saith the law, "eadem est
ratio." The first practitioner in the common law, before whom the case
came, in its roughest and earliest form, in order that he might "lick it
into shape," and "advise generally" preparatory to its "being laid
before counsel," was Mr. Traverse, a young pleader, whom Messrs. Quirk
and Gammon were disposed to take by the hand. He wrote a very showy, but
superficial and delusive opinion; and put the intended _protégé_ of his
clients, as it were by a kind of hop, step, and jump, into possession of
the Yatton estates. Quirk was quite delighted on reading it; but Gammon
shook his head with a somewhat sarcastic smile, and said he would at
once prepare a case for the opinion of Mr. Lynx, whom he had pitched
upon as the junior counsel in any proceedings which might be instituted
in a court of law. Lynx (of whom I shall speak hereafter) was an
experienced, hard-headed, vigilant, and accurate lawyer; the very man
for such a case, requiring, as it did, most patient and minute
examination. With an eye fitted

    "To inspect a mite, not comprehend the heaven,"

he _crawled_, as it were, over a case; and thus, even as one can imagine
that a beetle creeping over the floor of St. Paul's, would detect minute
flaws and fissures invisible to the eye of Sir Christopher Wren himself,
spied out defects which much nobler optics would have overlooked. To
come to plain matter-of-fact, however, I have beside me the original
opinion written by Mr. Lynx; and shall treat the reader to a taste of
it--giving him sufficient to enable him to appreciate the very ticklish
position of affairs with Mr. Titmouse. To make it not altogether
unintelligible, let us suppose the state of the pedigree to be something
like this, (as far as concerns our present purpose:)--

                   (Dreddlington.)
             +------------+-----------+
             |                        |
  (Harry Dreddlington.)   (Charles Dreddlington.)
                      +---------------+--------------+
                      |                              |
          (Stephen Dreddlington.)      (Geoffrey Dreddlington.)
                      |                              |
            =====================           =======================
          (A female descendant             (A female descendant marries
       marries _Gabriel Tittlebat_             CHARLES AUBREY, Esq.,
         Titmouse_, through whom                father of the present
           TITTLEBAT TITMOUSE                       possessor.)
                  claims.)

Be pleased now, unlearned reader, to bear in mind that "_Dreddlington_"
at the top of the above table, is the common ancestor, having two sons,
the elder "_Harry Dreddlington_," the younger "_Charles Dreddlington_;"
the latter having, in like manner, two sons, "_Stephen Dreddlington_"
the elder son, and "_Geoffrey Dreddlington_" the younger son; that Mr.
Aubrey, at present in possession, claims under "_Geoffrey
Dreddlington_." Now it will be incumbent on Mr. Titmouse, in the first
instance, to establish in himself a clear, independent, legal, and
possessory title to the estates; it being sufficient for Mr. Aubrey,
(possession being nine-tenths of the law), to falsify Titmouse's proofs,
or show them defective--"because," saith a very learned sergeant, who
hath writ a text-book upon the Action of Ejectment, "the plaintiff in an
action of ejectment must recover upon the strength of his own title, not
the weakness of his adversary's."[25]

Now, _rebus sic stantibus_, behold the astute Lynx advising (inter alia)
in manner following; that is to say--

"It appears clear that the lessor of the plaintiff (_i. e._ Tittlebat
Titmouse) will be able to prove that Dreddlington (the common ancestor)
was seised of the estate at Yatton in the year 1740; that he had two
sons, Harry and Charles, the former of whom, after a life of
dissipation, appears to have died without issue; and that from the
latter (Charles) are descended Stephen, the ancestor of the lessor of
the plaintiff, and Geoffrey, the ancestor of the defendant. Assuming,
therefore, that the descent of the lessor of the plaintiff from Stephen
can be made out, as there appears every reason to expect, [on this point
Lynx had written two brief pages,] a clear _primâ facie_ case will have
been established on the part of the lessor of the plaintiff. As,
however, it is suspected that Harry Dreddlington executed a conveyance
in fee of the property, in order to secure the loan contracted by him
from Aaron Moses, it will be extremely important to ascertain, and, if
possible, procure satisfactory evidence that the decease of Harry
Dreddlington occurred before the period at which, by his father's death,
that conveyance could have become operative upon the property: since it
is obvious that, should he have survived his father, _that instrument,
being outstanding_, may form a complete answer to the case of the
lessor of the plaintiff.[26] The danger will be obviously increased
should the debt to Aaron Moses prove to have been paid off, (as it is
stated was rumored to have been the fact,) by Geoffrey Dreddlington, the
younger son of Charles Dreddlington; for, should that turn out to be the
case, he would probably have taken a conveyance to himself, or to
trustees for his benefit, from Aaron Moses--which being in the power of
the defendant, Mr. Aubrey, would enable him to make out a title to the
property, paramount to that now attempted to be set up on behalf of Mr.
Titmouse. Every possible exertion, therefore, should be made to
ascertain the precise period of the death of Harry Dreddlington. The
registries of the various parishes in which the family may have at any
time resided should be carefully searched; and an examination made in
the churches and churchyards, of all tombstones, escutcheons, etc.,
belonging, or supposed to belong, to the Dreddlington family, and by
which any light can be thrown upon this most important point. It appears
clear that Dreddlington (the common ancestor) died on the 7th August,
1742:--the question, therefore, simply is, _whether the death of his
eldest son (Harry) took place prior or subsequent to that period_. It is
to be feared that the defendant may be in possession of some better and
more direct evidence on this point than is attainable by the lessor of
the plaintiff. The natural presumption would certainly seem to be that
the son, being the younger and stronger man, was the survivor."[27]

The above-mentioned opinion of Mr. Lynx, together with that of Mr.
Subtle entirely corroborating it, (and which was alluded to in a late
chapter of this history,[28]) and a pedigree, were lying on the table,
one day, at the office at Saffron Hill, before the anxious and perplexed
partners, Messrs. Quirk and Gammon.

Gammon was looking attentively, and with a very chagrined air, at the
pedigree; and Quirk was looking at Gammon.

"Now, Gammon," said the former, "just let me see again where the exact
hitch is--eh? You'll think me perhaps infernally stupid, but--curse me
if I can see it!"

"See it, my dear sir? Here, _here_!" replied Gammon, with sudden
impatience, putting his finger two or three times to the words "_Harry
D._"

"Lord bless us! Don't be so sharp with one, Gammon! I know as well as
you that that's _about_ where the crack is; but what is the precise
thing we're in want of, eh?"

"Proof, my dear sir," replied Gammon, somewhat impatiently, but with a
smile, "of the death of Harry Dreddlington some time--no matter
when--previous to the 7th August, 1742; and in default thereof, Mr.
Quirk, we are all flat on our backs, and had better never have stirred
in the business!"

"You know, Gammon, you're better _up_ in these matters than I--(because
I've not been able to turn my particular attention to 'em since I first
began business)--so just tell me, in a word, what good's to be got by
showing that fellow to have died in his father's lifetime?"

"You don't show your usual acuteness, Mr. Quirk," replied Gammon,
blandly. "It is to make waste paper of that confounded conveyance which
he executed, and which Mr. Aubrey doubtless has, and with which he may,
at a stroke, cut the ground from under our feet!"

"The very thought makes one feel quite funny--don't it, Gammon?" quoth
Quirk, with a flustered air.

"It may well do so, Mr. Quirk. Now we _are_ fairly embarked in a cause
where success will be attended with so many splendid results, Mr.
Quirk--though I'm sure you'll always bear me out in saying how very
unwilling I was to take advantage of the villany of that miscreant
Steg--hem"----

"Gammon, Gammon, you're always harking back to that--I'm tired of
hearing on't!" interrupted Quirk, angrily, but with an embarrassed air.

"Well, now we're in it," said Gammon, with a sigh, and shrugging his
shoulders, "I don't see why we should allow ourselves to be baffled by
trifles. The plain question is, undoubtedly, whether we are to stand
still--_or go on_." Mr. Quirk gazed at Mr. Gammon with an anxious and
puzzled look.

"How d'ye make out--in a legal way, you know, Gammon--_when_ a man
died--I mean, of a _natural_ death?" somewhat mysteriously inquired
Quirk, who was familiar enough with the means of proving the exact hour
of certain _violent_ deaths at Debtor's Door.

"Oh! there are various methods of doing so, my dear sir," replied
Gammon, carelessly. "Entries in family Bibles and
prayer-books--registers--tombstones--ay, by the way, AN OLD TOMBSTONE,"
continued Gammon, musingly, "that would settle the business!"

"An old tombstone!" echoed Quirk, briskly, but suddenly dropping his
voice. "Lord, Gammon, so it would! That's an _idea_!--I call that a
decided idea, Gammon. 'Twould be the very thing!"

"The very thing!" repeated Gammon, pointedly. They remained silent for
some moments.

"Snap could not have looked about him sharply enough when he was down at
Yatton--could he, Gammon?" at length observed Quirk, in a low tone,
flushing all over as he uttered the last words, and felt Gammon's cold
gray eye settled on him like that of a snake.

"He could not, indeed, my dear sir," replied Gammon, while Quirk
continued gazing earnestly at him, now and then wriggling about in his
chair, rubbing his chin, and drumming with his fingers on the
table.--"And now that you've suggested the thing, [oh, Gammon!
Gammon]--it's not to be wondered at!--You know, it would have been an
old tombstone--a sort of fragment of a tombstone, perhaps--so deeply
sunk in the ground, probably, as easily to have escaped observation.
Eh?--Does not it strike _you_ so, Mr. Quirk?" All this was said by
Gammon in a musing manner, and in a very low tone of voice; and he was
delighted to find his words sinking into the eager and fertile mind of
his companion.

"Ah, Gammon!" exclaimed Quirk, with a sound of partly a sigh, and partly
a whistle, (the former being the exponent of the _true_ state of his
feelings, _i. e._ anxiety--the latter of what he wished to _appear_ the
state of his feelings, _i. e._ indifference.)

"Yes, Mr. Quirk?"

"You're a deep devil, Gammon--I _will_ say that for you!" replied Quirk,
glancing towards each door, and, as it were, unconsciously drawing his
chair a little closer to that of Gammon.

"Nay, my dear sir!" said Gammon, with a deferential and deprecating
smile, "you give me credit for an acuteness I feel I do not possess! If,
indeed, I had not had _your_ sagacity to rely upon, ever since I have
had the honor of being connected with you in business---- ah, Mr. Quirk,
you know you lead--I follow"----

"Gammon, Gammon!" interrupted Quirk, with an uncomfortable, but still a
mollified air, "Come--your name's _Oily_"----

"In moments like these, Mr. Quirk, I say nothing that I do not feel,"
interrupted Gammon, gravely, putting to his nose the least modicum of
snuff which he could take with the tip of his finger out of the huge box
of Mr. Quirk, who, just then, was thrusting immense pinches, every half
minute, up his nostrils.

"It will cost a great deal of money to find that same tombstone,
Gammon!" said Quirk, in almost a whisper, and paused, looking intently
at Gammon.

"I think this is a different kind of snuff from that which you usually
take, Mr. Quirk, isn't it?" inquired Gammon, as he inserted the tips of
his fingers a second time into the mechanically proffered box of Mr.
Quirk.

"The same--the same," replied Quirk, hastily.

"You are a man better fitted for serious emergencies, Mr. Quirk, than
any man I ever came near," said Gammon, deferentially; "I perceive that
you have hit the nail on the head, as indeed you _always_ do!"

"Tut! Stuff, Gammon; you're every bit as good a hand as I am!" replied
Quirk, with an evident mixture of pleasure and embarrassment. Gammon
smiled, shook his head, and shrugged his shoulders.

"'Tis that practical sagacity of yours, Mr. Quirk," said Gammon--"you
know it as well as I can tell you--that has raised you to your present
professional eminence!" He paused, and looked very sincerely at his
senior partner.

"Well, I must own I think I _do_ know a trick or two," quoth Quirk, with
a sort of _grunt_ of gratification.

"Ay, and further, there are _some_ clever men who never can keep their
own counsel; but are like a hen that has just laid an egg, and directly
she has risen, goes foolishly cackling about everywhere, and then her
egg is taken away; but _you_"----

"Ha, ha!" laughed Quirk; "that's _devilish_ good, Gammon!--Capital! Gad,
I think I see the hen! Ha, ha!"

"Ha, ha!" echoed Gammon, gently. "But to be serious, Mr. Quirk; what I
was going to say was, that I thoroughly appreciate your admirable
caution in not confiding to any one--no, not even to me--the exact
means by which you intend to extricate us from our present dilemma."
Here Quirk got very fidgety, and twirled his watch-key violently.

"Hem! But--hem! Ay--a--a," he grunted, looking with an uneasy air at his
calm astute companion; "I didn't mean so much as all _that_, either,
Gammon; for two heads, in my opinion, are better than one. You _must_
own that, Gammon!" said he, not at all relishing the heavy burden of
responsibility which he felt that Gammon was about to devolve upon his
(Quirk's) shoulders exclusively.

"'Tis undoubtedly rather a serious business on which we are now
entering," said Gammon; "and I have always admired a saying which you
years ago told me of that great man Machiavel"----

[Oh, Gammon! Gammon! You well know that poor old Mr. Quirk never heard
of the name of that same Machiavel till this moment!]--

"That 'when great affairs are stirring, a master-move should be confined
to the master-mind that projects it.' I understand! I see! I will not,
therefore, inquire into the precise means by which I am satisfied you
will make it appear, in due time (while I am engaged getting up the
subordinate, but very harassing details of the general case), that
_Harry Dreddlington died_ BEFORE _the 7th of August, 1742_." Here,
taking out his watch, he suddenly added--"Bless me, Mr. Quirk, how time
passes!--Two o'clock! I ought to have been at Messrs. Gregson's a
quarter of an hour ago."

"Stop--a moment or two can't signify! It--it," said Quirk, hesitatingly,
"it was _you_, wasn't it, that thought of the tombstone?"

"I, my dear Mr. Quirk"--interrupted Gammon, with a look of astonishment
and deference.

"Come, come--honor among thieves, you know, Gammon!" said Quirk, trying
to laugh.

"No--it shall never be said that I attempted to take the credit of"----
commenced Gammon; when a clerk entering, put an end to the colloquy
between the partners, each of whom, presently, was sitting alone in his
own room--for Gammon found that he was too late to think of keeping his
engagement with Messrs. Gregson; if indeed he had ever made any--which,
in fact, he had _not_. Mr. Quirk sat in a musing posture for nearly half
an hour after he and Gammon had separated. "Gammon _is_ a deep one! I'll
be shot if ever there was his equal," said Quirk to himself, at length;
and starting off his chair, with his hands crossed behind him, he walked
softly to and fro. "I know what he's driving at--though he thought I
didn't! He'd let me scratch my hands in getting the blackberries, and
then he'd come smiling in to eat 'em! But--share and share alike--share
profit, share danger, master Gammon;--you may find that Caleb Quirk is a
match for Oily Gammon--I'll have you in for it, one way or another!"
Here occurred a long pause in his thoughts, "Really I doubt the thing's
growing unmanageable--the prize can't be worth the risk!--_Risk_,
indeed--'fore gad--it's neither more nor less than"---- Here a certain
picture hanging, covered with black crape, in the drawing-room at Alibi
House, seemed to have glided down from its station, and to be hanging
close before his eyes, with the crape drawn aside--a ghastly object---
eugh! He shuddered, and involuntarily closed his eyes. "How devilish odd
that I should just _now_ have happened to think of it!" he inwardly
exclaimed, sinking into his chair in a sort of cold sweat.

"D--n the picture!" at length said he aloud--getting more and more
flustered--"I'll burn it! It sha'n't disgrace my drawing-room any
longer!" Here Quirk almost fancied that some busy little fiend sat
squatting before the grisly picture, writing the words "CALEB QUIRK" at
the bottom of it; and a sort of sickness came over him for a moment.
Presently he started up, and took down one of several well-worn
dingy-looking books standing on the shelves--a volume of Burns' Justice.
Resuming his seat, he put on his glasses, and with a little trepidation
turned to the head "Forgery," and glanced over it, divided as it was
into two great heads--"Forgery at _Common Law_, and Forgery _by
Statute_," with many able observations of the learned compiler, and
important "_cases_" cited. At length his eye lit upon a paragraph which
seemed suddenly to draw his heart up into his throat, producing a
sensation which made him involuntarily clap his hand upon his neck.

"Oh, Gammon!!" he muttered, drawing off his glasses, sinking back in his
chair, and looking towards the door which opened into Gammon's room;
extending at the same time, in that direction, his right arm, and
shaking his fist. "You _precious_ villain!--I've an uncommon
inclination," at length thought he, "to go down slap to Yorkshire--say
nothing to anybody--make peace with the enemy, and knock up the whole
thing!--For a couple of thousand pounds--a trifle to the Aubreys, I'm
sure. Were _I_ in his place, I shouldn't grudge it; and why should
he?--By Jove," he got a little heated--"that _would_ be, as Gammon has
it, a master-move! and confined, egad! to the master-mind that thought
of it!--Why should he ever know of the way in which the thing blew
up?--Really, 'twould be worth half the money to _do_ Gammon so hollow
for once--by George it would!--Gammon, that would slip Caleb Quirk's
neck so slyly into the halter, indeed!"

"I'll tell you what, Mr. Quirk," said Gammon, suddenly re-entering the
room after about an hour's absence, during which he too had, like his
senior partner, been revolving many things in his mind--"it has occurred
to me, that I had better immediately go down to Yatton, _alone_."

Hereat Mr. Quirk opened both his eyes and his mouth to their very
widest; got very red in the face; and stared at his placid partner with
a mingled expression of fear and wonder. "Hang me, Gammon!" at length he
exclaimed desperately, slapping his fist upon the table--"if I don't
think you're the very devil himself!"--and he sank back in his chair,
verily believing, in the momentary confusion of his thoughts, that what
had been passing through his mind was known to Gammon; or that what had
been passing through his (Quirk's) mind, had also been occurring to
Gammon, who had resolved upon being beforehand in putting his purposes
into execution. Gammon was at first completely confounded by Quirk's
reception of him, and stood for a few moments, with his hands elevated,
in silence. Then he approached the table, and his eye caught the
well-thumbed volume of Burns' Justice, open at the head "FORGERY!" and
the quicksighted Gammon saw how matters stood at a glance--the process
by which the result he had just witnessed had been arrived at.

"Well, Mr. Quirk, what new vagary now?" he inquired with an air of
smiling curiosity.

"Vagary be----!" growled old Quirk, sullenly, without moving in his
chair.

Gammon stood for a moment or two eying him with a keen scrutiny. "What!"
at length he inquired good-humoredly, "do you then really grudge me any
share in the little enterprise?"

"Eh?" quickly interrupted Quirk, pricking up his ears. "Do you intend to
play _Mackivel_! eh? What must you go down alone to Yatton for, Gammon?"
continued Quirk, anxiously.

"Why, simply as a sort of pioneer--to reconnoitre the churchyard--eh? I
thought it might have been of service; but if"--

"Gammon, Gammon, your hand! I understand," replied Quirk, evidently
vastly relieved--most cordially shaking the cold hand of Gammon.

"But understand, Mr. Quirk," said he, in a very peremptory manner, "no
one upon earth is to know of my visit to Yatton except yourself."

He received a solemn pledge to that effect; and presently the partners
separated, a little better satisfied with each other. Though not a word
passed between them for several days afterwards on the topic chiefly
discussed during the interview above described, the reader may easily
imagine that neither of them dropped it from his thoughts. Mr. Quirk,
shortly afterwards, paid one or two visits to the neighborhood of
Houndsditch, (a perfect hotbed of clients to the firm,) where resided
two or three gentlemen of the Jewish persuasion, who had been placed,
from time to time, under considerable obligations by the firm of Quirk,
Gammon, and Snap, in respect of professional services rendered both to
themselves and to their friends. One of them, in particular, had a
painful consciousness that it was in old Mr. Quirk's power at any time
by a whisper to place his--the aforesaid Israelite's--neck in an
unsightly noose which every now and then might be seen dangling from a
beam opposite Debtor's Door, Newgate, about eight o'clock in the
morning; him, therefore, every consideration of interest and of
gratitude combined to render subservient to the reasonable wishes of Mr.
Quirk. He was a most ingenious little fellow, and had a great taste for
the imitative arts--so strong in fact, that it had once or twice placed
him in some jeopardy with the Goths and Vandals of the law; who
characterized the noble art in which he excelled, by a very ugly and
formidable word, and annexed the most barbarous penalties to its
practice. What passed between him and old Quirk on the occasion of their
interviews, I know not; but one afternoon, the latter, on returning to
his office, without saying anything to anybody, having bolted the door,
took out of his pocket several little pieces of paper, containing pretty
little picturesque devices of a fragmentary character, with antique
letters and figures on them--crumbling pieces of stone, some looking
more and some less sunk in the ground, and overgrown with grass;
possibly they were designs for ornaments to be added to that tasteful
structure, Alibi House--possibly intended to grace Miss Quirk's album.
However this might be, after he had looked at them, and carefully
compared them one with another, for some time, he folded them up in a
sheet of paper, sealed it--with certainly not the steadiest hand in the
world--and then deposited it in an iron safe.

CHAPTER XIII.

Yatton, the recovery of which was the object of these secret and
formidable movements and preparations, not to say machinations, was all
this while the scene of deep affliction. The lamentable condition of his
mother plunged Mr. Aubrey, his wife, and sister, into profounder grief
than had been occasioned by the calamity which menaced them all in
common. Had he been alone, he would have encountered the sudden storm of
adversity with unshrinking, nay, cheerful firmness; but could it be so,
when he had ever before him those whose ruin was involved in his
own?--Poor Mrs. Aubrey, his wife, having been two or three weeks
confined to her bed, during which time certain fond hopes of her husband
had been blighted, was almost overpowered, when, languid and feeble,
supported by Mr. Aubrey and Kate, she first entered the bedroom of the
venerable sufferer. What a difference, indeed, was there between the
appearance of all of them at that moment, and on the Christmas day when,
a happy group, they were cheerfully enjoying the festivities of the
season! Kate was now pale, and somewhat thinner; her beautiful features
exhibited a careworn expression; yet there was a serene lustre in her
blue eye, and a composed resolution in her air, which bespoke the
superiority of her soul. What had it not cost her to bear with any
semblance of self-possession, or fortitude, the sad spectacle now
presented by her mother! What a tender and vigilant nurse was she, to
one who could no longer be sensible of, or appreciate her attentions!
How that sweet girl humored all her venerated and suffering parent's
little eccentricities and occasional excitement, and accommodated
herself to every varying phasis of her mental malady! She had so
schooled her sensibilities and feelings, as to be able to maintain
perfect cheerfulness and composure in her mother's presence, on
occasions which forced her brother to turn aside with an eye of
agony--overcome by some touching speech or wayward action of the
unconscious sufferer, who constantly imagined herself, poor soul! to be
living over again her early married life; and that in her little
grandchildren she beheld Mr. Aubrey and Kate as in their childhood! She
would gently chide Mr. Aubrey, her husband, for his prolonged absence,
asking many times a day whether he had returned from London. Every
morning old Jacob Jones was shown into her chamber, at the hour at which
he had been accustomed, in happier days, to attend upon her. The
faithful old man's eyes would be blinded with tears, and his voice
choked, as he was asked how Peggy got over her yesterday's journey; and
listened to questions, messages, and directions, which had been familiar
to him twenty years before, about villagers and tenants who had long
lain mouldering in their humble graves--their way thither cheered and
smoothed by Mrs. Aubrey's Christian charity and benevolence! 'Twas a
touching sight to see her two beautiful grandchildren, in whose company
she delighted, brought, with a timorous and half-reluctant air, into her
presence. How strange must have seemed to them the cheerfulness of the
motionless figure always lying in the bed; a cheerfulness which, though
gentle as gentle could be, yet sufficed not to assure the little things,
or set them at their ease. Though her mild features ever smiled upon
them, still 'twas from a prostrate figure, which never moved, and was
always surrounded by mournful persons, with sorrowful constraint in
their countenances and gestures! Charles would stand watching her, with
apprehensive eye--the finger of one hand raised to his lip, while his
other retained the hand which had brought him in, as if fearful of its
quitting hold of him; the few words he could be brought to speak were in
a subdued tone and hurried utterance;--and when, having been lifted up
to kiss his grandmamma, he and his sister were taken out of the chamber,
their little breasts would heave a sigh which showed how sensibly they
were relieved from their recent constraint!

How wofully changed was everything in the once cheerful old Hall! Mr.
Aubrey sitting in the library, intently engaged upon books and
papers--Mrs. Aubrey and Kate now and then, arm in arm, walking slowly up
and down the galleries, or one of the rooms, or the hall, not with their
former sprightly gayety, but pensive, and often in tears, and then
returning to the chamber of their suffering parent. All this was sad
work, indeed, and seemed, as it were, to herald coming desolation!

But little variation occurred, for several weeks, in the condition of
Mrs. Aubrey, except that she grew visibly feebler. One morning, however,
about six weeks after her seizure, from certain symptoms, the medical
men intimated their opinion that some important change was on the eve of
taking place, for which they prepared the family. She had been very
restless during the night. After frequent intervals of uneasy sleep, she
would awake with evident surprise and bewilderment. Sometimes a peculiar
smile would flit over her emaciated features; at others, they would be
overcast with gloom, and she would seem struggling to suppress tears.
Her voice, too, when she spoke, was feeble and tremulous; and she would
sigh, and shake her head mournfully. Old Jacob Jones, not being
introduced at the accustomed hour, she asked for him. When he made his
appearance, she gazed at him for a moment or two, with a perplexed eye,
exclaiming, "Jacob! Jacob! is it you?" in a very low tone; and then she
closed her eyes, apparently falling asleep. Thus passed the day; her
daughter and daughter-in-law sitting on either side of the bed, where
they had so long kept their anxious and affectionate vigils--Mr. Aubrey
sitting at the foot of the bed--and Dr. Goddart and Mr. Whately in
frequent attendance. Towards the evening, Dr. Tatham also, as had been
his daily custom through her illness, appeared, and in a low tone read
over the service for the visitation of the sick. Shortly afterwards Mr.
Aubrey was obliged to quit the chamber, in order to attend to some very
pressing matters of business; and he had been engaged for nearly an
hour, intending almost every moment to return to his mother's chamber,
when Dr. Tatham entered, as Mr. Aubrey was subscribing his name to a
letter, and, with a little earnestness, said--"Come, my friend, let us
return to your mother; methinks she is on the eve of some decisive
change: the issue is with God!" Within a very few moments they were both
at the bedside of Mrs. Aubrey. A large chamber-lamp, standing on a table
at the farther end of the room, diffused a soft light, rendering visible
at a glance the silent and sad group collected round the bed, all with
their eyes directed towards the venerable figure who lay upon it. Mr.
Aubrey sat beside his wife close to his mother; and taking her white
emaciated hand into his own, gently raised it to his lips. She seemed
dozing: but his action appeared to rouse her for a moment. Presently she
fixed her eye upon him--its expression, the while, slowly but
perceptibly changing, and exciting strange feelings within him. He
trembled, and removed not his eye from hers. He turned very pale--for
the whole expression of his mother's countenance, which was turned full
towards him, was changing. Through the clouded windows of the falling
fabric, behold! its long-imprisoned tenant, THE SOUL, had arisen from
its torpor, and was looking at him. Reason was re-appearing. It was,
indeed, his mother, and _in her right mind_, that was gazing at him. He
scarcely breathed. At length surprise and apprehension yielded before a
gush of tenderness and love. With what an unutterable look was his
mother at that moment regarding him! His lip quivered--his eye
overflowed--and, as he felt her fingers very gently compressing his own,
his tears fell down. Gently leaning forward, he kissed her cheek, and
sank on one knee beside the bed.

"Is it you, my son?" said she, in a very low tone, but in _her own_
voice, and it stirred up instantly a thousand fond recollections, almost
overpowering him. He kissed her hand with fervent energy, but spoke not.
She continued gazing at him with mingled solemnity and fondness. Her eye
seemed brightening as it remained fixed upon him. Again she spoke, in a
very low but clear voice--every thrilling word being heard by all around
her: "Or ever the silver cord be loosed, or the golden bowl be broken,
or the pitcher be broken at the fountain, or the wheel broken at the
cistern,--Then shall the dust return to the earth as it was; and the
spirit shall return unto God who gave it." It would be in vain to
attempt to describe the manner in which these words were spoken; and
which fell upon those who heard them as though they were listening to
one from the dead.

"My mother!--my mother!" at length faltered Aubrey.

"God bless thee, my son!" said she, solemnly. "And Catherine, my
daughter--God bless thee"---- she presently added, gently turning round
her head towards the quarter whence a stifled sob issued from Miss
Aubrey, who rose, trembling, and leaning over, kissed her mother.
"Agnes, are you here--and your little ones?--God bless"---- Her voice
got fainter, and her eyes closed. Mr. Whately gave her a few drops of
ether, and she presently revived.

"God hath been very good to you, Madam," said Dr. Tatham, observing her
eye fixed upon him, "to restore you thus to your children."

"I have been long absent--long!--I wake, my children, but to bid you
farewell, forever, upon earth."

"Say not so, my mother--my precious mother!" exclaimed her son, in vain
endeavoring to suppress his emotions.

"I do, my son! Weep not for me; I am old, and am summoned away from
among you"--She ceased, as if from exhaustion; and no one spoke for some
minutes.

"It may be that God hath roused me, as it were, from the dead, to
comfort my sorrowful children with words of hope," said Mrs. Aubrey,
with much more power and distinctness than before. "Hope ye, then, in
God; for ye shall yet praise him who is the health of your countenance,
and your God!"

"We will remember, my mother, your words!" faltered her son.

"Yes, my son--if days of darkness be at hand"--She ceased. Again Mr.
Whately placed to her white lips a glass with some reviving
fluid--looking ominously at Mr. Aubrey, as he found that she continued
insensible. Miss Aubrey sobbed audibly; indeed all present were
powerfully affected. Again Mrs. Aubrey revived, and swallowed a few
drops of wine and water. A heavenly serenity diffused itself over her
emaciated features.

"We shall meet again, my loves!--I can no longer see you with the eyes
of"--Mr. Whately observing a sudden change, came nearer to her.

"Peace! peace!" she murmured almost inarticulately. A dead silence
ensued, interrupted only by smothered sobs. Her children sank on their
knees, and buried their faces in their hands, trembling.

Mr. Whately made a silent signal to Dr. Tatham, that life had
ceased--that the beloved spirit had passed away. "The Lord gave, and the
Lord hath taken away: blessed be the name of the Lord!" said Dr. Tatham,
with tremulous solemnity. Mrs. Aubrey and Miss Aubrey, no longer able to
restrain their feelings, wept bitterly; and overpowered with grief, were
supported out of the room by Dr. Tatham and Mr. Aubrey.

As soon as it was known that this venerable lady was no more, universal
reverence was testified for her memory, and sympathy for the afflicted
survivors, by even those, high and low, in the remoter parts of the
neighborhood who had no personal acquaintance with the family. Two or
three days afterwards, the undertaker, who had received orders from Mr.
Aubrey to provide a simple and inexpensive funeral, submitted to him a
list of more than thirty names of the nobility and gentry of the
country, who had sent to him to know whether it would be agreeable to
the family for them to be allowed to attend Mrs. Aubrey's remains to the
grave. After much consideration, Mr. Aubrey accepted this spontaneous
tribute of respect to the memory of his mother. 'Twas a memorable and
melancholy day on which the interment took place--one never to be
forgotten at Yatton. What can be more chilling than the gloomy bustle of
a great funeral, especially in the country; and when the deceased is one
whose memory is enshrined in the holiest feelings of all who knew her?
What person was there, for miles around, who could not speak of the
courtesies, the charities, the goodness of Madam Aubrey?

     "_When the ear heard her, then it blessed her; and when the eye saw
     her, it gave witness to her:_

     _"Because she delivered the poor that cried, and the fatherless,
     and him that had none to help him_.

     _"The blessing of him that was ready to perish came upon her, and
     she caused the widow's heart to sing for joy_.

     _"She was eyes to the blind, and feet was she to the lame_.

     _"She was a mother to the poor_."----

Pale as death, the chief mourner, wrapped in his black cloak, is
stepping into the mourning-coach. No one speaks to him; his face is
buried in his handkerchief; his heart seems breaking. He thinks of her
whose dear dust is before him;--then of the beloved beings whom he has
left alone in their agony till his return--his wife and sister. The
procession is moving slowly on--long, silent rows of the tenantry and
villagers, old and young, male and female--not a dry eye among them, nor
a syllable spoken--stand on each side of the way; no sound heard but of
horses' feet, and wheels crushing along the wet gravel--for the day is
most gloomy and inclement. As they quit the gates, carriage after
carriage follows in the rear; and the sorrowful crowd increases around
them. Many have in their hands the Bibles and prayer-books which had
been given them by her who now lies in yonder hearse; and a few can
recollect the day when the late lord of Yatton led her along from the
church to the Hall, his young and blooming bride--in pride and joy--and
they are now going to lay her beside him again! They are met at the
entrance of the little churchyard, by good Dr. Tatham, in his surplice,
bareheaded, and with book in hand; with full eye and quivering lip he
slowly precedes the body into the church. His voice frequently trembles,
and sometimes he pauses while reading the service. Now they are standing
bareheaded at the vault's mouth--the last sad rites are being performed;
and probably, as is thinking the chief mourner, over the last of his
race who will rest in that tomb!

Long after the solemn ceremony was over, the little churchyard remained
filled with mournful groups of villagers and tenants, who pressed
forward to the dark mouth of the vault, to take their last look at the
coffin which contained the remains of her whose memory would live long
in all their hearts. "Ah, dear old Madam," quoth Jonas Higgs to himself,
as he finished his dreary day's labors, by temporarily closing up the
mouth of the vault, "they might have turned thee, by-and-by, out of
yonder Hall, but they shall not touch thee _here_!"

Thus died, and was buried, Madam Aubrey; _and she is not yet forgotten_.

How desolate seemed the Hall, the next morning, to the bereaved inmates,
as, dressed in deep mourning, they met at the cheerless breakfast-table!
Aubrey kissed his wife and sister--who could hardly answer his brief
inquiries. The gloom occasioned throughout the Hall, for the last ten
days, by the windows being constantly darkened--now that the blinds were
drawn up--had given way to a staring light and distinctness, which
almost startled and offended the eyes of those whose hearts were dark
with sorrow as ever. Every object reminded them of the absence of
_one_--whose chair stood empty in its accustomed place. There, also, was
her Bible, on the little round table near the window! The mourners
seemed relieved by the entrance, by-and-by, of the children; but they
also were in mourning! Let us, however, withdraw from this scene of
suffering, where every object, every recollection, every association,
causes the wounded heart to bleed afresh.

Great troubles seem coming upon them; and now that _they have buried
their dead out of their sight_, and when time shall have begun to pour
his balm into their present smarting wounds, I doubt not that they will
look those troubles in the face, calmly and with fortitude, not
forgetful of the last words of her for whom they now mourn so bitterly,
and whom, beloved and venerable being! God hath mercifully taken away
from evil days that are to come.

After much consideration, they resolved to go, on the ensuing Sunday
morning, to church, where neither Mrs. Aubrey nor Kate had been since
the illness of her mother. The little church was crowded; almost every
one present, besides wearing a saddened countenance, exhibited some
outward mark of respect, in their dress--some badge of mourning--such as
their little means admitted of. The pulpit and reading-desk were hung in
black, as also was Mr. Aubrey's pew--an object of deep interest to the
congregation, who expected to see at least _some_ member of the family
at the Hall. They were not disappointed. A little before Dr. Tatham took
his place in the reading-desk, the well-known sound of the
family-carriage wheels was heard as it drew up before the gate; and
presently Mr. Aubrey appeared at the church door, with his wife and
sister on either arm; all of them, of course, in the deepest
mourning--Mrs. and Miss Aubrey's countenances concealed beneath their
long crape veils. For some time after taking their seats, they seemed
oppressed with emotion, evidently weeping. Mr. Aubrey, however,
exhibited great composure, though his countenance bore traces of the
suffering he had undergone. Mrs. Aubrey seldom rose from her seat; but
Kate stood up, from time to time, with the rest of the congregation; her
white handkerchief, however, might have been seen frequently raised to
her eyes, beneath her black veil. As the service went on, she seemed to
have struggled with some success against her feelings. To relieve
herself for a moment from its oppressive closeness, she gently drew
aside her veil; and thus, for a few minutes, exhibited a countenance
which, though pale and agitated, was inexpressibly beautiful. She could
not, however, long bear to face a congregation, every one of whom she
felt to be looking on her, and those beside her, with affectionate
sympathy; and rather quickly drew down her veil, without again removing
it. There was one person present, on whom the brief glimpse of her
beauty had produced a sudden, deep, and indelible impression. As he
gazed at her, the color gradually deserted his cheek; and his eye
remained fixed upon her, even after she had drawn down her veil. He
experienced emotions such as he had never known before. _So that was
Miss Aubrey!_

Mr. Gammon--for he it was, and he had gone thither under the expectation
of seeing, for the first time, some of the Aubrey family--generally
passed for a cold-blooded person; and in fact few men living had more
control over their feelings, or more systematically checked any
manifestations of them; but there was something in the person and
circumstances of Miss Aubrey--for by a hurried inquiry of the person
next to him he learned that it was she--which excited new feelings in
him. Her slightest motion his eye watched with intense eagerness; and
faint half-formed schemes, purposes, and hopes, passed in rapid
confusion through his mind, as he foresaw that circumstances would
hereafter arise by means of which--

"Good heavens! how very--_very_ beautiful she is!" said he to himself,
as, the service over, her graceful figure, following her brother and his
wife with slow sad step, approached the pew in which he was standing, on
her way to the door. He felt a sort of cold shudder as her black dress
rustled past, actually touching him. What was he doing and meditating
against that lovely being? And for whom--disgusting reptile!--for
Titmouse? He almost blushed from a conflict of emotions, as he followed
almost immediately after Miss Aubrey, never losing sight of her till
her brother, having handed her into the carriage, got in after her, and
they drove off towards the Hall.

The reader will not be at a loss to account for the presence of Mr.
Gammon on this occasion, nor to connect it with an impending trial at
the approaching York assizes. As he walked back to Grilston to his
solitary dinner, he was lost in thought; and on arriving at the inn,
repaired at once to his room, where he found a copy of the _Sunday
Flash_, which had, according to orders, been sent to him from town,
under his assumed name, "Gibson." He ate but little, and that
mechanically; and seemed to feel, for once, little or no interest in his
newspaper. He had never paid the least attention to the _eulogia_ upon
Miss Aubrey of the idiot Titmouse, nor of Snap, of whom he entertained
but a very little higher opinion than of Titmouse. One thing was clear,
that from that moment Miss Aubrey formed a new element in Mr. Gammon's
calculations; and for aught I know, may occasion very different results
from those originally contemplated by that calm and crafty person.

As it proved a moonlight night, he resolved at once to set about the
important business which had brought him into Yorkshire; and for that
purpose set off about eight o'clock on his walk to Yatton. About ten
o'clock he might have been seen gliding noiselessly into the churchyard,
like a dangerous snake. The moon continued to shine--and at intervals
with brightness sufficient for his purpose, which was simply to
reconnoitre, as closely as possible, the little sequestered locality--to
ascertain what it might contain, and _what were its capabilities_. At
length he approached the old yew-tree, against the huge trunk of which
he leaned with folded arms, apparently in a revery. Hearing a noise as
of some one opening the gate by which he had entered, he glided farther
into the gloom behind him; and turning his head in the direction whence
the sound came, he beheld some one entering the churchyard. His heart
beat quickly; and he suspected that he had been watched: yet there was
surely no harm in being seen, at ten o'clock at night, looking about him
in a country churchyard!--It was a gentleman who entered, dressed in
deep mourning; and Gammon quickly recognized in him Mr. Aubrey--the
brother of her whose beautiful image still shone before his mind's eye.
What could he be wanting there?--at that time of night? Gammon was not
kept long in doubt; for the stranger slowly bent his steps towards a
large high tomb, in fact the central object, next to the yew-tree, in
the churchyard--and stood gazing at it in silence for some time.

"That is, no doubt, where Mrs. Aubrey was buried the other day," thought
Gammon, watching the movements of the stranger, who presently raised his
handkerchief to his eyes, and for some moments seemed indulging in great
grief. Gammon distinctly heard the sound of deep sighing. "He must have
been very fond of her," thought Gammon. "Well, if we succeed, the
excellent old lady will have escaped a great deal of trouble--that's
all! _If we succeed_," he inwardly repeated after a long pause! That
reminded him of what he had for a few moments lost sight of, namely, his
own object in coming thither; and he felt a sudden chill of remorse,
which increased upon him till he almost trembled, as his eye continued
fixed on Mr. Aubrey, and he thought also of Miss Aubrey--and the
misery--the utter ruin into which he was seeking to plunge them
both--the unhallowed means which they--which--if
necessary--he--contemplated resorting to for that purpose.

Gammon's condition was becoming every moment more serious; for VIRTUE,
in the shape of Miss Aubrey, began to shine momentarily in more and more
radiant loveliness before him--and he almost felt an inclination to
sacrifice every person connected with the enterprise in which he was
engaged, if it would give him a chance of winning the favor of Miss
Aubrey. Presently, however, Mr. Aubrey, evidently heaving a deep sigh,
bent his steps slowly back towards the old gate, and quitted the
churchyard. Gammon watched his figure out of sight, and then, for the
first time since Mr. Aubrey's appearance, breathed freely. Relieved from
the pressure of his presence, Gammon began to take calmer and juster
views of his position; and he reflected, that if he pushed on the
present affair to a successful issue, he should be much more likely,
than by prematurely ending it, to gain his objects. He therefore resumed
his survey of the scene around him; and which presented appearances
highly satisfactory, judging from the expression which now and then
animated his countenance. At length he wandered round to the other end
of the church, where a crumbling wall, half covered with ivy, indicated
that there had formerly stood some building apparently of earlier date
than the church. Such was the fact. Gammon soon found himself standing
in a sort of enclosure, which had once been the site of an old chapel.
And here he had not been long making his observations, before he
achieved a discovery of so extraordinary a nature; one so unlikely,
under the circumstances, to have happened; one so calculated to baffle
ordinary calculations concerning the course of events, that the reader
may well disbelieve what I am going to tell him, and treat it as
absurdly improbable. In short, not to keep him in suspense, Gammon
positively discovered evidence of the death of Harry Dreddlington in his
father's lifetime; by means of just such a looking tombstone as he had
long imaged to himself; and as he had resolved that old Quirk should
have got prepared, before the cause came into court. He almost stumbled
over it. 'Twas an old slanting stone, scarcely a foot above the ground,
partly covered with moss, and partly hid by rubbish and long damp grass.
The moon shone brightly enough to enable Gammon, kneeling down, to
decipher, beyond all doubt, what was requisite to establish that part of
the case which had been wanting. For a moment or two he was disposed to
imagine that he was dreaming. When, at length, he took out pencil and
paper, his hands trembled so much that he felt some difficulty in making
an exact copy of the inestimable inscription. Having done this, he drew
a long breath as he replaced the pencil and paper in his pocket-book,
and almost fancied he heard a whispering sound in the air--"Verdict for
the plaintiff." Quitting the churchyard, he walked back to Grilston at a
much quicker rate than that at which he had come, his discovery having
wonderfully elated him, and pushed all other thoughts entirely out of
his mind. But, thought he, doubtless the other side are aware of the
existence of this tombstone--they can hardly be supposed ignorant of it;
they must have looked up their evidence as well as we--and their
attention has been challenged to the existence or non-existence of proof
of the time of the death of Harry Dreddlington:--well--if they are aware
of it, they know that it cuts the ground from under them, and turns
their conveyance, on which, doubtless, they are relying, into waste
paper; if they are _not_, and are under the impression that that deed is
valid and effectual, our proof will fall on them like a thunderbolt.
"Gad,"--he held his breath, and stopped in the middle of the road--"how
immensely important is this little piece of evidence! Why, if they knew
of it--why in Heaven's name is it there still? What easier than to have
got rid of it?--why, they may still: what can that stupid fellow
Parkinson have been about? Yet, is it because it has become
unimportant, on account of their being in possession of other evidence?
What _can_ they have to set against so plain a case as ours is, with
this evidence? Gad, I'll not lose one day's time; but I'll have half a
dozen competent witnesses to inspect, and speak to that same tombstone
in court." Such were some of the thoughts which passed through his mind
as he hastened homeward; and on his arrival, late as it was--only the
yawning hostler having sat up to let him in--he wrote off a letter to
Mr. Quirk, and made it into a parcel to go by the mail in the morning,
acquainting him with the amazing discovery which he had just made, and
urging Mr. Quirk to set about getting up the briefs, for the trial,
without delay; he himself--Gammon--purposing to stop at Grilston a day
or two longer, to complete one or two other arrangements of an important
nature. As soon as Mr. Quirk had read this letter, he devoutly thanked
God for his goodness; and, hurrying to his strong-box, unlocked it, took
out a small sealed packet, and committed it to the flames.

Mr. Aubrey, as soon as he had recovered from the first shock occasioned
by Mr. Parkinson's communication of the proceedings against him, set
about acquainting himself, as minutely as he could, with the true state
of the case. He had requested that gentleman to obtain from one of the
counsel in London, Mr. Crystal, a full account of the case for his--Mr.
Aubrey's--own guidance; and on obtaining a remarkably clear and luminous
statement, and also consulting the various authorities cited in it--such
at least as could be supplied to him by Mr. Parkinson--the vigorous
practical understanding of Mr. Aubrey, aided by his patient application,
soon mastered the whole case, and enabled him to appreciate his perilous
position. Since he could derive no title through the conveyance of Harry
Dreddlington (which had been got in by Geoffrey Dreddlington,) owing to
the death of the former in his father's lifetime,[29] as he (Mr.
Aubrey) understood from his advisers could be easily proved by the
present claimant of the property; the right of accession of Geoffrey
Dreddlington's descendants depended entirely upon the fact whether or
not Stephen Dreddlington had really died without issue; and as to that,
certain anxious and extensive inquiries instituted by Messrs. Runnington
and Mr. Parkinson, in pursuance of the suggestions of their able and
experienced counsel, had led them to entertain serious doubts concerning
the right of Geoffrey's descendants to have entered into possession. By
what means his opponents had obtained their clew to the state of his
title, neither Mr. Aubrey nor any of his advisers could frame a
plausible conjecture. It was certainly possible that Stephen
Dreddlington, who was known to have been a man, like his uncle Harry, of
wild and eccentric habits, and to have been supposed to leave no issue,
might have married privately some woman of inferior station, and left
issue by her, who, living in obscurity, and at a distance from the seat
of the family property, could have no opportunity of inquiring into or
ascertaining their position with reference to the estates, till some
acute and enterprising attorneys, like Messrs. Quirk, Gammon, and Snap,
happening to get hold of them, and family papers in their possession,
had taken up their case. When, with impressions such as these, Mr.
Aubrey perused and re-perused the opinions of the conveyancer given on
the occasion of his (Mr. Aubrey's) marriage, he was confounded at the
supineness and indifference which he had even twice exhibited, and felt
disposed now greatly to overvalue the importance of every adverse
circumstance. The boldness, again, and systematic energy with which the
case of the claimant was prosecuted, and the eminent legal opinions
which were alleged, and with every appearance of truth, to concur in his
favor, afforded additional grounds for rational apprehension. He looked
the danger, however, full in the face, and as far as lay in his power,
as a conscientious man, prepared for the evil day which might so soon
come upon him. Certain extensive and somewhat costly alterations which
he had been on the point of commencing at Yatton, he abandoned. But for
the earnest interference of friends, he would at once have given up his
establishment in Grosvenor Street, and applied for the Chiltern
Hundreds, in order to retire from political life. Considering the
possibility of his soon being declared the wrongful holder of the
property, he contracted his expenditure as far as he could, without
challenging unnecessary public attention; and paid into his banker's
hands all his Christmas rents, sacredly resolving to abstain from
drawing out one farthing of what might soon be proved to belong to
another. At every point occurred the dreadful question--if I am declared
never to have been the rightful owner of the property, how am I to
discharge my frightful liabilities to him who is? Mr. Aubrey had nothing
except the Yatton property. He had but an insignificant sum in the
funds; Mrs. Aubrey's settlement was out of lands at Yatton, as also was
the little income bequeathed to Kate by her father. Could anything be
conceived more dreadful, under these circumstances, than the mere
danger--the slightest probability--of their being deprived of
Yatton?--and with a debt of at the very least SIXTY THOUSAND POUNDS, due
to him who had been wrongfully kept out of his property? That was the
millstone which seemed to drag them all to the bottom. Against _that_,
what could the kindness of the most generous friends, what could his own
most desperate exertions, avail? All this had poor Aubrey constantly
before his eyes, together with--his wife, his children, his sister. What
was to become of _them_? It was long before the real nature and extent
of his danger became known among his friends and neighbors. When,
however, they were made aware of it, an extraordinary interest and
sympathy were excited throughout almost the whole county. Whenever his
attorney, Mr. Parkinson, appeared in public, he was besieged by most
anxious inquiries concerning his distinguished client, whose manly
modesty and fortitude, under the pressure of his sudden and almost
unprecedented difficulty and peril, endeared him more than ever to all
who had an opportunity of appreciating his position. With what intense
and absorbing interest were the ensuing assizes looked for!---- At
length they arrived.

The ancient city of York exhibited, on the commission day of the spring
assizes for the year 18--, the usual scene of animation and excitement.
The High Sheriff, attended by an imposing retinue, went out to meet the
judges, and escorted them, amid the shrill clangor of trumpets, to the
Castle, where the commission was opened with the usual formalities. The
judges were Lord Widdrington, the Lord Chief-Justice of the King's
Bench, and Mr. Justice Grayley, a puisne judge of the same court--both
admirable lawyers. The former was possessed of the more powerful
intellect. He was what may be called a great scientific lawyer,
referring everything to _principle_, as extracted from precedent. Mr.
Justice Grayley was almost unrivalled in his knowledge of the _details_
of the law; his governing maxim being _ita lex scripta_. Here his
knowledge was equally minute and accurate, and most readily applied to
every case brought before him. Never sat there upon the bench a more
painstaking judge--one more anxious to do right equally in great things
as in small. Both were men of rigid integrity: 'tis a glorious thing to
be able to challenge the inquiry--when, for centuries, have other than
men of rigid integrity sat upon the English Bench? Lord Widdrington,
however, in temper was stern, arbitrary, and overbearing, and his
manners were disfigured not a little by coarseness; while his companion
was a man of exemplary amiability, affability, and forbearance. Lord
Widdrington presided at the Civil Court, (in which, of course, would
come on the important cause in which we are interested,) and Mr. Justice
Grayley in the Criminal Court.

Soon after the sitting of the court, on the ensuing morning--"Will your
Lordship allow me," rose and inquired the sleek, smiling, and portly Mr.
Subtle, dead silence prevailing as soon as he had mentioned the name of
the cause about which he was inquiring, "to mention a cause of _Doe on
the demise of Titmouse v. Jolter_--a special jury cause, in which there
are a great many witnesses to be examined on both sides--and to ask that
a day may be fixed for it to come on?"

"Whom do you appear for, Mr. Subtle?" inquired his Lordship.

"For the plaintiff, my Lord."

"And who appears for the defendant?"

"The Attorney-General leads for the defendant, my Lord," replied Mr.
Sterling, who, with Mr. Crystal, was also retained for the defendant.

"Well, perhaps you can agree between yourselves upon a day, and in the
mean time similar arrangements may be made for any other special jury
causes that may require it." After due consultation, Monday week was
agreed upon by the parties, and fixed by his Lordship, for the trial of
the cause.--During the Sunday preceding it, York was crowded with
persons of the highest distinction from all parts of the county, who
felt interested in the result of the great cause of the assizes. About
mid-day a dusty travelling carriage and four dashed into the streets
from the London road, and drove up to the principal inn; it contained
the Attorney-General (who just finished reading his brief as he entered
York) and his clerk. The Attorney-General was a man of striking and
highly intellectual countenance; but he looked, on alighting, somewhat
fatigued with his long journey. He was a man of extraordinary natural
talents, and also a first-rate lawyer--one whose right to take the
woolsack, whenever it should become vacant, was recognized by all the
profession. His professional celebrity, and his coming down "_special_"
on the present occasion, added to the circumstance of his being well
known to be a personal friend of his client, Mr. Aubrey--whence it might
be inferred that his great powers would be exerted to their utmost--was
well calculated to enhance the interest, if that were possible, of the
occasion which had brought him down at so great an expense, and to
sustain so heavy a responsibility as the conduct of a cause of such
magnitude as this.

He came to lead against a formidable opponent. Mr. Subtle was the leader
of the Northern circuit, a man of matchless tact and practical sagacity,
and consummately skilful in the conduct of a cause. The only thing _he_
ever looked at, was THE VERDICT; to the gaining of which he directed all
his energies, and sacrificed every other consideration. As for display,
he despised it. A _speech_, as such, was his aversion. He entered into a
friendly, but exquisitely crafty _conversation_ with the jury; for he
was so quick at perceiving the effect of his address on the mind of each
of the twelve, and dexterous in accommodating himself to what he had
detected to be the passing mood of each, that they individually felt as
if they were all the while reasoning with, and being convinced by him.
His placid, smiling, handsome countenance, his gentlemanly bearing and
insinuating address, full of good-natured cheerful confidence in his
cause, were irresistible. He flattered, he soothed, he fascinated the
jury, producing an impression upon their minds which they often felt
indignant at his opponent's attempting to efface. In fact, as a _nisi
prius_ leader he was unrivalled, as well in stating as in arguing a
case, as well in examining as cross-examining a witness. It required no
little practical experience to form an adequate estimate of Mr. Subtle's
skill in the management of a cause; for he did everything with such a
smiling, careless, unconcerned air, equally in the great pinch and
strain of a case, as in the pettiest details, that you would be apt to
suspect that none but the easiest and most straightforward cases fell to
his lot!

Titmouse, Titmouse, methinks the fates favored you in assigning to you
Mr. Subtle!

Next came Mr. QUICKSILVER, who had received what may be called a
_muffling_ retainer. What a contrast was he to Mr. Subtle! Reckless,
rhetorical, eloquent, ready, witty--possessing a vast extent of general
knowledge, but rather slenderly furnished with law--he presented to the
jury, _himself_--not his client, or his client's case; infinitely more
anxious to make a splendid figure in public, than to secure, by watchful
activity, the interests of his clients. Why, then, was such a man
retained in the cause? 'Twas a fancy of Quirk's, a vast political
admirer of Quicksilver's, who had made one or two most splendid speeches
for him in libel cases brought against the _Sunday Flash_. Gammon most
earnestly expostulated, but Quirk was inexorable; and himself carried
his retainer to Mr. Quicksilver. Gammon, however, was somewhat consoled
by the reflection, that this wild elephant would be, in a manner, held
in check by Mr. Subtle and Mr. Lynx, who, he hoped, would prevent any
serious mischief from happening. Lynx possessed the qualities which his
name would suggest to you. I have partly described him already. He was a
man of minute accuracy; and "got up" every case in which he was engaged
as if his life had depended on the result. Nothing escaped him. He kept
his mind constantly even with the current of the cause. He was a man to
_steer_ a leader, if ever that leader should get, for an instant, on the
wrong tack, or be uncertain as to his course. His suggestion and
interference--rare, indeed, with such a man as Mr. Subtle, incessant
with Mr. Quicksilver--were always worth attending to, and consequently
received with deference.

For Mr. Aubrey also was retained a formidable "BAR." Mr.
Attorney-General was a man much superior, in point of intellect and
legal knowledge, to Mr. Subtle. His mind was distinguished by its
tranquil power. He had a rare and invaluable faculty of arraying before
his mind's eye all the facts and bearings of the most intricate case,
and contemplating them, as it were, not successively, but
simultaneously. His perception was quick as light; and, at the same
time--rare, most rare accompaniment!--his judgment sound, his memory
signally retentive. Inferior, possibly, to Mr. Subtle in rapid and
delicate appreciation of momentary advantages, he was sagacious, where
Mr. Subtle was only ingenious. Mr. Attorney-General had as much weight
with the judge as Mr. Subtle with the jury. With the former there was a
candor and straightforwardness--a dignified simplicity--which insensibly
won the confidence of the judge; who, on the other hand, felt himself
obliged to be ever on his guard against the slippery sophistries of Mr.
Subtle, whom he thus got to regard with constant suspicion.

Mr. STERLING, the second counsel for the defendant, was a king's
counsel, and a rival of Mr. Subtle upon the circuit. He was a man of
great power; and, on important occasions, no man at the bar could acquit
himself with more distinction. As a speaker, he was eloquent and
impressive, perhaps deficient in vivacity; but he was a man of clear
and powerful intellect; prompt in seizing the bearings of a case; a
capital lawyer; and possessing, even on the most trying occasions,
imperturbable self-possession.

Mr. CRYSTAL, with some faults of manner and bearing, was an honorable
high-minded man; clear-sighted and strong-headed; an accurate and ready
lawyer; vigilant and acute.

See, then, the combatants in this memorable encounter; for
_Titmouse_--Mr. SUBTLE, Mr. QUICKSILVER, Mr. LYNX; for _Mr. Aubrey_--Mr.
ATTORNEY-GENERAL, Mr. STERLING, Mr. CRYSTAL.

The consultation of each party was long and anxious.

About eight o'clock on the Sunday evening, at Mr. Subtle's lodgings,
Messrs. Quirk, Gammon, and Snap, accompanied by Mr. Mortmain, whom they
had brought down to watch the case, made their appearance shortly after
Mr. Quicksilver and Mr. Lynx.

"Our case seems complete, _now_" said Mr. Subtle, casting a penetrating
and most significant glance at Messrs. Quirk and Gammon, and then at his
juniors, to whom, before the arrival of their clients and Mr. Mortmain,
he had been mentioning the essential link which, a month before, he had
pointed out as missing, and the marvellous good fortune by which they
had been able to supply it at the eleventh hour.

"That tombstone's a godsend, Subtle, isn't it?" said Quicksilver, with a
grim smile. Lynx neither smiled nor spoke. He was a very matter-of-fact
person. So as the case came out clear and nice in court, he cared about
nothing more; at that moment he felt that he should be _functus
officio_!--But whatever might be the insinuation or suspicion implied in
the observation of Mr. Subtle, the reader must, by this time, be well
aware how little it was warranted by the facts.[30]

"I shall open it very quietly," said Mr. Subtle, putting into his pocket
his penknife, with which he had been paring his nails, while Mr.
Quicksilver had been talking very fast. "What do you think, Mr. Lynx?
Had I better allude boldly to the conveyance executed by Harry
Dreddlington, and which becomes useless as soon as we prove his death in
his father's lifetime?"

"Ah! there's that blessed tombstone again," interposed Quicksilver, with
a sarcastic smile.

--"Or," resumed Mr. Subtle, "content myself with barely making out our
pedigree, and let the conveyance of Harry Dreddlington come from the
other side?"

"I think, perhaps, that the latter would be the quieter and safer
course," replied Lynx.

"By the way, gentlemen," said Mr. Subtle, suddenly, addressing Messrs.
Quirk, Gammon, and Snap, "how do we come to know anything about the
mortgage executed by Harry Dreddlington?"

"Oh! _that_ you know," replied Quirk, quickly, "we first got scent of in
Mr."---- Here he paused suddenly, and turned quite red.

"It was suggested," said Gammon, calmly, "by one of the gentlemen whose
opinions we have taken in the case--I forget by whom--that, from some
recital, it was probable that there existed such an instrument; and that
put us on making inquiry."

"Nothing more likely," added Mortmain, "than that it, or an abstract, or
minute of it, should get into Stephen Dreddlington's hands!"

"Ah! well! well!" said Mr. Subtle, shrugging his shoulders,--"I must say
there's rather an air of mystery about the case. But--about that
tombstone--what sort of witnesses will speak"----

"Will the evidence be requisite," inquired Lynx, "in the plaintiff's
case? All _we_ shall have to do will be to prove the fact that Harry
died without issue, of which there's satisfactory evidence; and as to
the _time_ of his death, that will become material only if _they_ put in
the conveyance of Harry."

"True--true; ah! I'll turn that over in my mind. Rely upon it, I'll give
Mr. Attorney-General as little to lay hold of as possible. Thank you,
Lynx, for the hint. Now, gentlemen," said he, turning to Messrs. Quirk,
Gammon, and Snap, "one other question--What _kind of looking_ people are
the witnesses who prove the later steps of the pedigree of Mr. Titmouse?
Respectable? eh?--You know a good deal will depend on the credit which
they may obtain with the jury!"

"They're very decent creditable persons, you will find, sir," said
Gammon.

"Good, good. Who struck the special jury?"

"We did, sir."

"Well, I must say that was a _very_ prudent step for _you_ to take!
considering the rank in life and circumstances of the respective
parties! However, to be sure, if _you_ didn't, they would--so--well;
good-night, gentlemen, good-night." So the consultation broke up; and
Messrs. Quirk, Gammon, and Snap returned home to their inn in a very
serious and anxious mood.

"You're a marvellous prudent person, Mr. Quirk," said Gammon, in a
somewhat fierce whisper, as they walked along, "I suppose you would have
gone on to explain the little matter of Steggars, and so have had our
briefs thrown at our heads"----

"Well, well," grunted Quirk, "that _was_ a slip!" Here they reached
their inn. Titmouse was staying there; and in Messrs. Quirk, Gammon, and
Snap's absence, he had got very drunk, and was quarrelling under the
archway with "Boots;" so they ordered him to bed, they themselves
sitting up till a very late hour in the morning.

The consultation at the Attorney-General's had taken place about three
o'clock in the afternoon, within an hour after his arrival; and had been
attended by Messrs. Sterling, Crystal, and Mansfield--by Mr. Runnington,
and Mr. Parkinson, and by Mr. Aubrey, whom the Attorney-General received
with the most earnest expressions of sympathy and friendship; listening
to every question and every observation of his with the utmost
deference.

"It would be both idle and unkind to disguise from you, Aubrey," said
he, "that our position is somewhat precarious. It depends entirely on
the chance we may have of breaking down the plaintiff's case; for we
have but a slender one of our own. I suppose they can bring proof of the
death of Harry Dreddlington in his father's lifetime?"

"Oh yes, sir!" answered Mr. Parkinson, "there is an old tombstone behind
Yatton church which establishes that fact beyond all doubt: and a week
or two ago no fewer than five or six persons have been carefully
inspecting it; doubtless they will be called as witnesses to-morrow."

"I feared as much. Then are ours no more than watching briefs. Depend
upon it, they would not have carried on the affair with so high a hand
if they had not pretty firm ground under foot! Messrs. Quirk, Gammon,
and Snap are tolerably well known in town--not _over_-scrupulous, eh,
Mr. Runnington?"

"Indeed, Mr. Attorney, you are right. I don't doubt they are prepared to
go all lengths."

"Well, we'll sift their evidence pretty closely, at any rate. So you
really have reason to fear, as you intimated when you entered the room,
that they have valid evidence of Stephen Dreddlington having left
issue?"

"Mr. Snap told me," said Mr. Parkinson, "this morning, that they would
prove issue of Stephen Dreddlington, and issue of that issue, as clean
as a whistle--that was his phrase."

"Ay, ay--but we mustn't take all for gospel that _he_ would say,"
replied the Attorney-General, smiling sarcastically.

"They've got two houses filled with witnesses, I understand," said Mr.
Runnington.

"Do they seem Yorkshire people, or strangers?"

"Why, most of them that I have seen," replied Parkinson, "seem
strangers."

"Ah, they will prove, I suppose," said the Attorney-General, "the later
steps of the pedigree, when Stephen Dreddlington married at a distance
from his native county."

They then entered into a very full and minute examination of the case;
after which,--"Well," said the Attorney-General, evidently fatigued with
his long journey, and rising from his chair, "we must trust to what will
turn up in the chapter of accidents to-morrow. I shall be expected to
dine with the bar to-day," he added; "but immediately after dinner--say
at half-past seven o'clock, I shall be here and at your service, if
anything should be required." Then the consultation broke up. Mr. Aubrey
had, at their earnest entreaty, brought Mrs. Aubrey and Kate from
Yatton, on Saturday; for they declared themselves unable to bear the
dreadful suspense in which they should be left at Yatton. Yielding,
therefore, to these their very reasonable wishes, he had engaged private
lodgings at the outskirts of the town. On quitting the consultation,
which, without at the same time affecting over-strictness, he had
regretted being fixed for Sunday--but the necessity of the case appeared
to warrant it--he repaired to the magnificent MINSTER, where the evening
prayers were being read, and where were Mrs. Aubrey and Kate. The
prayers were being chanted as he entered; and he was conducted to a
stall nearly opposite to where those whom he loved so fondly were
standing. The psalms allotted for the evening were those in which the
royal sufferer, David, was pouring forth the deepest sorrows of his
heart; and their appropriateness to Mr. Aubrey's state of mind, added to
the effect produced by the melting melody in which they were conveyed to
his ears, excited in him, and, he perceived, also in those opposite, the
deepest emotion. The glorious pile was beginning to grow dusky with the
stealing shadows of evening; and the solemn and sublime strains of the
organ, during the playing of the anthem, filled those present, who had
any pretensions to sensibility, with mingled feelings of tenderness and
awe. Those in whom we are so deeply interested, felt at once subdued and
elevated; and as they quitted the darkening fabric, through which the
pealing tones of the organ were yet reverberating, they could not help
inquiring, should they ever enter it again,--and in what altered
circumstances might it be?

To return, however--though it is, indeed, like descending from the holy
mountain into the bustle and hubbub of the city at its foot--Mr.
Parkinson, being most unexpectedly, and as he felt it unfortunately,
summoned to Grilston that afternoon, in order to send up some deeds of a
distinguished client to London, for the purpose of immediately effecting
a mortgage, set off in a post-chaise, at top-speed, in a very unenviable
frame of mind; and by seven o'clock was seated in his office at
Grilston, busily turning over a great number of deeds and papers, in a
large tin case, with the words "Right Honorable the Earl of Yelverton"
painted on the outside. Having turned over almost everything inside, and
found all that he wanted, he was going to toss back again all the deeds
which were not requisite for his immediate purpose, when he happened to
see one lying at the very bottom which he had not before observed. It
was not a large, but an old deed--and he took it up and hastily examined
it.

We have seen a piece of unexpected good-fortune on the part of Gammon
and his client; and the reader will not be disappointed at finding
something of a similar kind befalling Mr. Aubrey, even at the eleventh
hour. Mr. Parkinson's journey, which he had execrated a hundred times
over as he came down, produced a discovery which made him tremble all
over with agitation and delighted excitement, and begin to look upon it
as almost owing to an interference of Providence. The deed which he
looked at, bore an indorsement of the name of "_Dreddlington_." After a
hasty glance over its contents, he tried to recollect by what accident a
document, belonging to Mr. Aubrey, could have found its way into the box
containing Lord Yelverton's deeds; and it at length occurred to him
that, some time before, Mr. Aubrey had proposed advancing several
thousand pounds to Lord Yelverton, on mortgage of a small portion of his
Lordship's property--but which negotiation had afterwards been broken
off; that Mr. Aubrey's title-deeds happened to be at the same time open
and loose in his office--and he recollected having considerable trouble
in separating the respective documents which had got mixed together.
This one, after all, had been by some accident overlooked, till it
turned up in this most timely and extraordinary manner! Having hastily
effected the object which had brought him back to Grilston, he ordered a
post-chaise and four, and within a quarter of an hour was thundering
back, at top-speed, on his way to York, which, the horses reeking and
foaming, he reached a little after ten o'clock. He jumped out, with the
precious deed in his pocket, the instant that his chaise-door was
opened, and ran off, without saying more than--"I'm gone to the
Attorney-General's." This was heard by many passers-by and persons
standing round; and it spread far and wide that something of the utmost
importance had transpired, with reference to the great ejectment cause
of Mr. Aubrey. Soon afterwards, messengers and clerks, belonging to Mr.
Runnington and Mr. Parkinson, were to be seen running to and fro,
summoning Mr. Sterling, Mr. Crystal, Mr. Mansfield, and also Mr. Aubrey,
to a second consultation at the Attorney-General's. About eleven o'clock
they were all assembled. The deed which had occasioned all this
excitement, was one calculated indeed to produce that effect; and it
filled the minds of all present with astonishment and delight. It was,
in a word, a DEED OF CONFIRMATION by OLD DREDDLINGTON, the father of
Harry Dreddlington, of the conveyance by the latter to Geoffrey
Dreddlington, who, in the manner already mentioned to the reader, had
got an assignment of that conveyance to himself. After the
Attorney-General had satisfied himself as to the account to be given of
the deed--the custody whence it came, namely, the attorney for the
defendant; Mr. Parkinson undertaking to swear, without any hesitation,
that whatever deeds of Mr. Aubrey's he possessed, he had taken from the
muniment room at Yatton--the second consultation broke up. Mr. Aubrey,
on hearing the nature and effect of the instrument explained by the
Attorney-General and Mr. Mansfield--all his counsel, in short,
concurring in opinion as to the triumphant effect which this instrument
would produce on the morrow--may be pardoned for regarding it, in the
excitement of the moment, as almost a direct interference of Providence.

A few minutes before nine o'clock on the ensuing morning, the occasional
shrill blasts of the trumpets announced that the judges were on their
way to the Castle, the approaches to which were crowded with carriages
and pedestrians of a highly respectable appearance. As the Castle clock
finished striking nine, Lord Widdrington, in a short wig and plain
black silk gown,[31] took his seat, and the swearing of the special jury
commenced. The court was crowded almost to suffocation; all the chief
places being filled with persons of distinction in the county. The
benches on each side of the judge were occupied by ladies,
who--especially the Countess of Oldacre and Lady De la Zouch--evinced a
painful degree of anxiety and excitement in their countenances and
demeanor. The bar also mustered in great force; the crown court being
quite deserted, although "a great murder case" was going on there. The
civil court was on the present occasion the point of attraction, not
only on account of the interesting nature of the case to be tried, but
of the keen contest expected between the Attorney-General and Mr.
Subtle. The former, as he entered--his commanding features gazed at by
many an anxious eye with hope, and a feeling that on his skill and
learning depended that day the destination of the Yatton property--bowed
to the judge, and then nodded and shook hands with several of the
counsel nearest to him; then he sat down, and his clerk having opened
his bags, and taken out his huge brief, he began turning over its leaves
with a calm and attentive air, occasionally conversing with his juniors.
Every one present observed that the defendant's counsel and attorneys
wore the confident looks of winning men; while their opponents,
quick-sighted enough, also observed the circumstance, and looked, on
that account alone, a shade more anxious than when they had entered the
court. Mr. Subtle requested Gammon, whose ability he had soon detected,
to sit immediately beneath him; next to Gammon sat Quirk; then Snap; and
beside him Mr. Titmouse, with a staring sky-blue flowered silk
handkerchief round his neck, a gaudy waistcoat, a tight surtout, and
white kid gloves. He looked exceedingly pale, and dared hardly
interchange a word with even Snap, who was just as irritable and
excited as his senior partners. It was quickly known all over the court
which was Titmouse! Mr. Aubrey scarcely showed himself in court all day,
though he stood at the door near the bench, and could hear all that
passed; Lord De la Zouch and one or two other personal friends standing
with him, engaged, from time to time, in anxious conversation.

The jury having been sworn, Mr. Lynx rose, and in a few hurried
sentences, to the lay audience utterly unintelligible, intimated the
nature of the pleadings in the cause. The Attorney-General then in a low
tone requested that all the witnesses might leave the court.[32] As soon
as the little disturbance occasioned by this move had ceased, Mr. Subtle
rose, and in a low but distinct tone said, "May it please your
Lordship--Gentlemen of the Jury,--In this cause I have the honor to
appear before you as counsel for the plaintiff; and it now becomes my
duty to state as briefly as I can, the nature of his case. It is
impossible, gentlemen, that we should not be aware of the unusual
interest excited by this cause; and which may be accounted for by the
very large estates in this county which are sought this day to be
transferred to a comparative stranger, from the family who have long
enjoyed them, and of whom I am anxious to say everything respectful; for
you will very soon find that the name on the record is that of only the
nominal defendant; and although all that is _professed_ to be this day
sought to be recovered is a very trifling portion of the property, your
verdict will undoubtedly in effect decide the question as to the true
ownership and enjoyment of the large estates now held by the gentleman
who is the substantial defendant--I mean Mr. Aubrey, the member of
Parliament for the borough of Yatton; for whatever answer he might make
to an action brought to recover his whole estate, he must make upon the
present occasion." Aware of the watchful and formidable opponent who
would in due time answer him, and also of being himself entitled to the
general reply--to the last word--Mr. Subtle proceeded to state the
nature of the plaintiff's case with the utmost brevity and clearness.
Scarcely any sound was heard but that of the pens of the short-hand
writers, and of the counsel taking their notes. Mr. Subtle, having
handed up two or three copies of the pedigree which he held in his hand
to the judge, the jury, and his opponents, pointed out with distinctness
and precision every link in the chain of evidence which he intended to
lay before the jury; and having done this--having presented as few
salient points of attack to his opponent as he possibly could--he sat
down, professing his entire ignorance of what case could be set up in
answer to that which he had opened. He had not been on his legs quite
half an hour; and when he ceased--how he had disappointed every one
present, except the judge and the bar! Instead of a speech apparently
befitting so great an occasion--impressive and eloquent--here had been a
brief dry statement of a few uninteresting facts--of dates, of births,
deaths, marriages, registers, entries, inscriptions, deeds,
wills--without a single touch of feeling, or ray of eloquence. The
momentary feeling of disappointment in the audience, however--almost all
of whom, it may easily be believed, were in the interest of the
Aubreys--quickly yielded to one of satisfaction and relief; as they
thought they might regard so meagre a speech as heralding as meagre a
case. As soon as he had sat down, Mr. Quicksilver rose and called the
first witness. "We're safe!" said the Attorney-General to Mr. Sterling
and Mr. Crystal, with his hand before his mouth, and with the very
faintest whisper that could be audible to those whom he addressed; and
the witness having been sworn, they all resumed their seats and their
writing. The first and the subsequent witness established one or two
preliminary and formal points--the Attorney-General scarcely rising to
put a question to them. The third witness was examined by Mr. Subtle
with apparent unconcern, but really with exquisite anxiety. From the
earnestness and attention with which the words of the witness were
watched and taken down by both the judge and the counsel, who knew
somewhat better than the audience where the strain of the case
commenced, it must have appeared to the latter, that either Mr. Subtle
under-estimated, or his opponents over-estimated, the value of the
evidence now in process of being extracted by Mr. Subtle, in short,
easy, pointed questions, and with a bland and smiling countenance.

"Not so fast, sir," gruffly interposed Lord Widdrington, addressing the
witness.

"Take time, Mr. Jones," said Mr. Subtle, kindly, fearful of ruffling or
discomposing an important witness. The Attorney-General rose to
cross-examine; pressed him quietly but closely; varied the shape of his
questions; now he soothed, then he startled by his sternness; but sat
down, evidently having produced no impression. Thus it was with one or
two succeeding witnesses; the Attorney-General, on each occasion,
resuming his seat after his abortive efforts with perfect composure. At
length, however, by a very admirable and well-sustained fire of
cross-questioning, he completely demolished a material witness; and the
hopes of all interested in behalf of his clients rose high. Mr. Subtle,
who had been all the while paring his nails, and from time to time
smiling with a careless air, (though you might as safely have touched a
tigress suckling her cubs as attempted at that moment to disturb him, so
absorbed was he in intense anxiety,) believing that he could establish
the same facts by another and, as he thought, a better witness, did not
re-examine; but calling that other, with an air of nonchalance,
succeeded in extracting from him all that the former had failed in;
baffling all the attempts of the Attorney-General to affect his credit.
At length, another witness being in the box,--

"I object, my Lord, to that question," said Mr. Attorney-General, as Mr.
Subtle, amid many indifferent and apparently irrelevant questions,
quietly slipped in one of the greatest possible importance and advantage
to him--had it been answered as he desired. 'T was quite delightful to
see the Attorney-General and his experienced and watchful juniors all
rise at one and the same instant: showing how vain were the tricks and
ingenuity of their sly opponent. Mr. Attorney-General stated his
objection briefly and pointedly; Mr. Subtle answered him, followed by
Quicksilver and Lynx; and then Mr. Attorney-General replied, with great
force and clearness. This keen encounter of their wits over--

"I shall allow the question to be put," said Lord Widdrington, after a
pause--"But I have great doubts as to its propriety. I will therefore
take a note of Mr. Attorney-General's objection." Four or five similar
conflicts arose during the course of the plaintiff's case:--now
concerning the competency of a witness--then as to the admissibility of
a document, or the propriety of a particular question. On each of these
occasions there were displayed on both sides consummate logical skill
and acuteness, especially by the two leaders. Distinctions, the most
delicate and subtle, were suggested with suddenness, and as promptly
encountered; the most artful manœuvres to secure dangerous admissions
resorted to, and baffled; the most recondite principles of evidence
brought to bear with admirable readiness on both sides. To deal with
them, required, indeed, the practised, penetrating, and powerful
intellect of Lord Widdrington. Some points he disposed of promptly to
the satisfaction of both parties; on others he hesitated, and at length
reserved them. Though none but the more experienced and able members of
the bar could in the least degree enter into and appreciate the nature
of these conflicts, they were watched with untiring attention and
eagerness by all present, both ladies and gentlemen--by the lowly and
the distinguished. And though the intensity of the feelings of all was
manifest by a mere glimpse round the court, yet any momentary display of
eccentricity on the part of a witness, or of petulance or repartee on
the part of counsel, would occasion a momentary merriment which, in
point of fact, served only as a sort of _relief_ to the strained
feelings of the audience, and instantly disappeared. The tombstone part
of the case was got through easily; scarcely any attempt being made on
the part of Mr. Aubrey's counsel to resist or interfere with it. But the
great--the hottest part of the fight--occurred at that point of the
case, where Titmouse's descent from Stephen Dreddlington was sought to
be established. This gentleman, who had been a very wild person, whose
movements were very difficult to be traced or accounted for, had entered
the navy, and ultimately died at sea, as had always been imagined,
single and childless. It was proved, however, that so far from such
being the case, he had married a person at Portsmouth, of inferior
station, and that by her he had a daughter, only two years before his
death. Both mother and daughter, after undergoing great privation, and
no notice being taken of the mother by any of her late husband's family,
removed to the house of a humble and distant relative in Cumberland,
where the mother afterwards died, leaving her daughter only fifteen
years old. When she grew up, she lived in some menial capacity in
Cumberland, and ultimately married one Gabriel Tittlebat Titmouse; who,
after living for some years a cordwainer at Whitehaven, found his way to
Grilston, in Yorkshire, in the neighborhood of which town he had lived
for some years in very humble circumstances. There he had married; and
about two years afterwards his wife died, leaving a son--our friend
Tittlebat Titmouse. Both of them afterwards came to London: where, in
four or five years' time, the father died, leaving the little Titmouse
to flutter and hop about in the wide world as best he could. During the
whole of this part of the case, Mr. Gammon had evinced deep anxiety; and
at a particular point--perhaps the crisis--his agitation was excessive;
yet it was almost entirely concealed by his remarkable self-control. The
little documentary evidence of which Gammon, at his first interview with
Titmouse, found him possessed, proved at the trial, as Gammon had
foreseen, of great importance. The evidence in support of this part of
the case, and which it took till two o'clock on the ensuing afternoon to
get through, was subjected to a most determined and skilful opposition
by the Attorney-General, but in vain. The case had been got up with the
utmost care, under the excellent management of Lynx; and Mr. Subtle's
consummate tact and ability brought it, at length, fully and distinctly
out before the jury.

"That, my Lord," said he, as he sat down after re-examining his last
witness, "is the case on the part of the plaintiff." On this the judge
and jury withdrew, for a short time, to obtain refreshment. During their
absence, the Attorney-General, Mr. Sterling, Mr. Crystal, and Mr.
Mansfield, might have been seen, with their heads all laid close
together, engaged in anxious consultation--a group gazed at by the eager
eyes of many a spectator, whose beating heart wished their cause
godspeed. The Attorney-General then withdrew for a few moments, also to
seek refreshment; and returning at the same time with the judge, after a
moment's pause rose, bowed to the judge, then to the jury, and opened
the defendant's case. His manner was calm and impressive; his person was
dignified; and his clear, distinct voice fell on the listening ear like
the sound of silver. After a graceful allusion to the distinguished
character of his friend and client, Mr. Aubrey, (to whose eminent
position in the House of Commons he bore his personal testimony,) to the
magnitude of the interests now at stake, and the extraordinary nature of
the claim set up, he proceeded: "On every account, therefore, I feel
sensible, gentlemen, to an unusual and most painful extent, of the very
great responsibility now resting upon my learned friends and myself;
lest any miscarriage of mine should prejudice in any degree the
important interests committed to us, or impair the strength of the case
which I am about to submit to you on the part of Mr. Aubrey; a case
which, I assure you, unless some extraordinary mischance should befall
us, will, I believe, annihilate that which, with so much pains, so much
tact, and so much ability, has just been laid before you by my learned
friend Mr. Subtle; and establish the defendant in the safe possession of
that large property which is the subject of the present most
extraordinary and unexpected litigation. But, gentlemen, before
proceeding so far as that, it is fitting that I should call your
attention to the nature of the case set up on the part of the plaintiff,
and the sort of evidence by which it has been attempted to be supported;
and I am very sanguine of being successful in showing you that the
plaintiff's witnesses are not entitled to the credit to which they lay
claim; and, consequently, that there is no case made out for the
defendant to answer." He then entered into a rigorous analysis of the
plaintiff's evidence, contrasting each conflicting portion with the
other, with singular cogency; and commenting with powerful severity upon
the demeanor and character of many of the witnesses. On proceeding, at
length, to open the case of the defendant--"And here, gentlemen," said
he, "I am reminded of the observation with which my learned friend
concluded--that he was entirely ignorant of the case which we meant to
set up in answer to that which he had opened on the part of the
plaintiff. Gentlemen, it would have been curious, indeed, had it been
otherwise--had my friend's penetrating eye been able to inspect the
contents of my client's strong-box--and so become acquainted with the
evidence on which he rests his title to the property now in dispute. My
learned friend has, however, succeeded in entitling himself to
information on that point; and he shall have it--and to his heart's
content." Here Mr. Subtle cast a glance of smiling incredulity towards
the jury, and defiance towards the Attorney-General. He took his pen
into his hand, however, and his juniors looked very anxious.
"Gentlemen," continued the Attorney-General, "I am ready to concede to
my learned friend every inch of the case which he has been endeavoring
to make out; that he has completely established his pedigree.--At all
events, I am ready to concede this for the purpose of the case which is
now under discussion before you." He then mentioned the conveyance by
Harry Dreddlington of all his interest----"You forget that he died in
his father's lifetime, Mr. Attorney-General," interposed Mr. Subtle,
with a placid smile, and the air of a man who is suddenly relieved from
a vast pressure of anxiety.

"Not a bit of it, gentlemen, not a bit of it--'tis a part of my case. My
learned friend is quite right; Harry Dreddlington _did_ die in his
father's lifetime:--but"---- Here Mr. Subtle gazed at the
Attorney-General with unaffected curiosity; and when the latter came to
mention "the _Deed of Confirmation_ by THE FATHER of Harry
Dreddlington," an acute observer might have observed a slight change of
color in Mr. Subtle. Lynx looked at the Attorney-General as if he
expected every instant to receive a musket-ball in his breast!

"What, '_confirm_' a NULLITY, Mr. Attorney-General?" interrupted Mr.
Subtle, laying down his pen with a smile of derision; but a moment or
two afterwards, "Mr. Mortmain," said he, in a hasty whisper, "what do
you think of this? Tell me--in four words"--Mortmain, his eye glued to
the face of the Attorney-General the while, muttered hastily something
about "_operating as a new grant_--_as a new conveyance_."

"Pshaw! I mean what's the _answer_ to the Attorney-General?" muttered
Mr. Subtle, impatiently; but his countenance preserved its expression of
smiling nonchalance. "You will oblige me, Mr. Mortmain," he by-and-by
whispered in a quiet but peremptory tone, "by giving your utmost
attention to the question as to the effect of this deed--so that I may
shape my objection to it properly when it is tendered in evidence. If it
really have the legal effect attributed to it, and which I suspect it
really to have, we may as well shut up our briefs. I _thought_ there
must be some such cursed point or other in the background!"

Gammon saw the real state of Mr. Subtle's mind, and his cheek turned
pale, but he preserved a smile on his countenance, as he sat with his
arms folded. Quirk eyed him with undisguised agitation, scarce daring to
look up at Mr. Subtle. Titmouse, seeing a little dismay in his camp,
turned very white and cold, and sat still, scarce daring to breathe;
while Snap looked like a terrier consciously going to have its teeth
pulled out!

At length the Attorney-General, after stating that, in addition to the
case which he had intimated, as resting mainly on the deed of
confirmation, he should proceed to prove the pedigree of Mr. Aubrey, sat
down, having spoken about two hours and a half, expressing his
conviction that when the defendant's evidence should have been closed,
the jury, under his Lordship's direction, would return a verdict for the
defendant; and that, too, without leaving the jury-box, where, by their
long and patient attention, they had so honorably acquitted themselves
of the important duty imposed upon them by the constitution.

"James Parkinson!" exclaimed Mr. Sterling, quietly but distinctly, as
the Attorney-General sat down. "You are the attorney for the defendant?"
inquired Mr. Sterling, as soon as the witness had been sworn. "Do you
produce a conveyance between Harry Dreddlington and Moses Aaron?" &c.
(specifying it.) It was proved and put in, without much opposition. So
also was another--the assignment from Moses Aaron to Geoffrey
Dreddlington.

"Do you also produce a deed between Harry Dreddlington the elder and
Geoffrey Dreddlington?" and he mentioned the date and names of all the
parties to the deed of confirmation. Mr. Parkinson handed in the
important document.

"Stay, stay; where did you get that deed, Mr. Parkinson?" inquired Mr.
Subtle, sharply, extending his hand for the deed.

"From my office at Grilston, where I keep many of Mr. Aubrey's
title-deeds."

"When did you bring it hither?"

"About ten o'clock last night, for the purpose of this trial."

"How long has it been at your office?"