The Case of Richard Meynell Part 34

These are hardly measures likely, I think, to commend themselves to some of your allies, Mr. Barron!"

Barron had sprung up in his chair.

"What my allies may or may not think is nothing to me. I am of course guided by my own judgment and conscience. And I altogether protest against the word you have just employed. I came to you, Mr. Flaxman, I can honestly say, in the interests of peace!--in the interests of Meynell himself."

"But you admit that there is really no evidence worthy of the name connecting Meynell with the story at all!" said Flaxman, turning upon him. "The crazy impression of a woman dying of brain disease--some gossip about Sir Ralph's will--a likeness that many people have never perceived!

What does it amount to? Nothing!--nothing at all!--less than nothing!"

"I can only say that I disagree with you." The voice was that of a rancorous obstinacy at last unveiled. "I believe that the woman's identification was a just one--though I admit that the proof is difficult. But then perhaps I approach the matter in one way, and you in another. A man, Mr. Flaxman, in my belief, does not throw over the faith of Christ for nothing! No! Such things are long prepared. Conscience, my dear sir, conscience breaks down first. The man becomes a hypocrite in his private life before he openly throws off the restraints of religion.

That is the sad sequence of events. I have watched it many times."

Flaxman had grown rather white. The man beside him seemed to him a kind of monstrosity. He thought of Meynell, of the eager refinement, the clean idealism, the visionary kindness of the man--and compared it with the "muddy vesture," mental and physical, of Meynell's accuser.

Nevertheless, as he held himself in with difficulty he began to perceive more plainly than he had yet done some of the intricacies of the situation.

"I have nothing to do," he said, in a tone that he endeavoured to make reasonably calm, "nor has anybody, with generalization of that kind, in a case like this. The point is--could Meynell, being what he is, what we all know him to be, have not only betrayed a young girl, but have then failed to do her the elementary justice of marrying her? And the reply is that the thing is incredible!"

"You forget that Meynell was extremely poor, and had his brothers to educate--"

Flaxman shrugged his shoulders in laughing contempt.

"Meynell desert the mother of his child--because of poverty--because of his brothers' education!--_Meynell_! You have known him some years--I only for a few months. But go into the cottages here--talk to the people--ask them, not what he believes, but what he _is_--what he has been to them. Get one of them, if you can, to credit this absurdity!"

"The Rector's intimate friends.h.i.+p with Miss Puttenham has long been an astonishment--sometimes a scandal--to the village!" exclaimed Barron, doggedly.

Flaxman stared at him in a blank amazement, then flushed. He took a turn up and down the room, after which he returned to the fireside, composed.

What was the use of arguing with such a disputant? He felt as though the mere conversation were an insult to Meynell, in which he was forced to partic.i.p.ate.

He took a seat deliberately, and put on his magisterial manner, which, however, was much more delicately and una.s.sumingly authoritative than that of other men.

"I think we had better clear up our ideas. You bring me a story--a painful story--concerning a lady with whom we are both acquainted, which may or may not be true. Whether it is true or not is no concern of ours.

Neither you nor I have anything to do with it, and legal penalties would certainly follow the diffusion of it. You invite me to connect with it the name of a man for whom I have the deepest respect and admiration; who bears an absolutely stainless record; and you threaten to make use of the charge in connection with the heresy trials now coming on. Now let me give you my advice--for what it may be worth. I should say--as you have asked my opinion--have nothing whatever to do with the matter! If anybody else brings you anonymous letters, tell them something of the law of libel--and something too of the guilt of slander! After all, with a little good will, these are matters that are as easily quelled as raised.

A charge so preposterous has only to be firmly met to die away. It is your influence, and not mine, which is important in this matter. You are a permanent resident, and I a mere bird of pa.s.sage. And"--Flaxman's countenance kindled--"let me just remind you of this: if you want to strengthen Meynell's cause--if you want to win him thousands of new adherents--you have only to launch against him a calumny which is sure to break down--and will inevitably recoil upon you!"

The two men had risen. Barron's face, handsome in feature, save for some thickened lines and the florid tint of the cheeks, had somehow emptied itself of expression while Flaxman was speaking.

"Your advice is no doubt excellent," he said quietly, as he b.u.t.toned his coat, "but it is hardly practical. If there is one anonymous letter, there are probably others. If there are letters--there is sure to be talk--and talk cannot be stopped. And in time everything gets into the newspapers."

Flaxman hesitated a moment. Something warned him not to push matters to extremities--to make no breach with Barron--to keep him in play.

"I admit, of course, if this goes beyond a certain point it may be necessary to go to Meynell--it may be necessary for Meynell to go to his Bishop. But at present, if you _desire_ to suppress the thing, you have only to keep your own counsel--and wait. Dawes is a good fellow, and will, I am sure, say nothing. I could, if need be, speak to him myself. I was able to get his boy into a job not long ago."

Barron straightened his shoulders slowly.

"Should I be doing right--should I be doing my duty--in a.s.sisting to suppress it--always supposing that it could be suppressed--my convictions being what they are?"

Then--suddenly--it was borne in on Flaxman that in the whole interview there had been no genuine desire whatever on Barron's part for advice and consultation. He had come determined on a certain course, and the object of the visit had been, in truth, merely to convey to one of Meynell's supporters a hint of the coming attack, and some intimation of its strength. The visit had been in fact a threat--a move in Barron's game.

"That, of course, is a question which I cannot presume to decide," said Flaxman, with cold politeness. His manner changed instantly. Peremptorily dismissing the subject, he became, on the spot, the mere suave and courteous host of an interesting house; he pointed out the pictures and the view, and led the way to the hall.

As he took leave, Barron stiffly intimated that he should not himself be able to attend Mrs. Flaxman's party that evening; but his daughter and sons hoped to have the pleasure of obeying her invitation.

"Delighted to see them," said Flaxman, standing in the doorway, with his hands in his pockets. "Do you know Edward Norham?"

"I have never met him."

"A splendid fellow--likely I think to be the head of the Ministry before the year's out. My wife was determined to bring him and Meynell together.

He seems to have the traditional interest in theology without which no English premier is complete."

Pursued by this parting shot, Barron retired, and Flaxman went back thoughtfully to his wife's sitting-room. Should he tell her? Certainly.

Her ready wits and quick brain were indispensable in the battle that might be coming. Now that he was relieved from Barron's bodily presence, he was by no means inclined to pooh-pooh the communication which had been made to him.

As he approached his wife's door he heard voices. Catharine! He remembered that she was to lunch and spend the day with Rose. Now what to do! Devoted as he was to his sister-in-law, he was scarcely inclined to trust her with the incident of the morning.

But as soon as he opened the door, Rose ran upon him, drew him in and closed it. Catharine was sitting on the sofa--with a pale, kindled look--a letter in her hand.

"Catharine has had an abominable letter, Hugh!--the most scandalous thing!"

Flaxman took it from Catharine's hand, looked it through, and turned it over. The same script, a little differently disguised, and practically the same letter, as that which had been shown him in the library! But it began with a reference to the part which Mrs. Elsmere and her daughter had played in the terrible accident of the preceding week, which showed that the rogue responsible for it was at least a rogue possessed of some local and personal information.

Flaxman laid it down, and looked at his sister-in-law.

"Well?"

Catharine met his eyes with the clear intensity of her own.

"Isn't it hard to understand how anybody can do such a thing as that?"

she said, with her patient sigh--the sigh of an angel grieving over the perversity of men.

Flaxman dropped on the sofa beside her.

"You feel with me, that it is a mere clumsy attempt to injure Meynell, in the interests of the campaign against him?" he asked her, eagerly.

"I don't know about that," said Catharine slowly--a s.h.i.+ning sadness in her look. "But I do know that it could only injure those who are trying to fight his errors--if it could be supposed that they had stooped to such weapons!"

"You dear woman!" cried Flaxman, impulsively, and he raised her hand to his lips. Catharine and Rose looked their astonishment. Whereupon he gave them the history of the hour he had just pa.s.sed through.

CHAPTER XII

But although what one may call the natural freemasonry of the children of light had come in to protect Catharine from any touch of that greedy credulity which had fastened on Barron; though she and Rose and Hugh Flaxman were at one in their contemptuous repudiation of Barron's reading of the story, the story itself, so far as it concerned Alice Puttenham and Hester, found in all their minds but little resistance.

"It may--it may be true," said Catharine gently. "If so--what she has gone through! Poor, poor thing!"

And as she spoke--her thin fingers clasped on her black dress, the nun-like veil falling about her shoulders, her aspect had the frank simplicity of those who for their Lord's sake have faced the ugly things of life.