“Yes, sir; I tell you he came here neither with the intent to rob nor to offer violence.”
“That is false, Ranulph,” replied Lady Rookwood. “I was dragged hither by him, at the peril of my life. He is Mr. Coates’s prisoner on another charge.”
“Unquestionably, your ladyship is perfectly right; I have a warrant against him for assaulting Hugh Badger, the keeper, and for other misdemeanours.”
“I will myself be responsible for his appearance to that charge,” replied Ranulph. “Now, sir, at once release him.”
“At your peril!” exclaimed Lady Rookwood.
“Well, really,” muttered the astonished attorney, “this is the most perplexing proceeding I ever witnessed.”
“Ranulph,” said Lady Rookwood, sternly, to her son, “beware how you thwart me!”
“Yes, Sir Ranulph, let me venture to advise you, as a friend, not to thwart her ladyship,” whispered the attorney; “indeed, she is in the right.” But, seeing his advice unheeded, Coates withdrew to a little distance.
“I will not see injustice done to my father’s son,” replied Ranulph, in a low tone. “Why would you detain him?”
“Why?” returned she, “our safety demands it—our honour.”
“Our honour demands his instant liberation; each moment he remains in those bonds sullies its purity. I will free him myself from his fetters.”
“And brave my curse, foolish boy? You incurred your miserable father’s anathema for a lighter cause than this. Our honour cries aloud for his destruction. Have I not been injured in the nicest point a woman can be injured? Shall I lend my name to mockery and scorn, by base acknowledgment of such deceit, or will you? Where would be my honour, then, stripped of my fair estates—my son—myself—beggars—dependent on the bounty of an upstart? Does honour ask you to bear this? It is a phantom sense of honour, unsubstantial as your father’s shade, of which you just now spoke, that would prompt you to do otherwise.”
“Do not evoke his awful spirit, mother,” cried Ranulph, with a shudder; “do not arouse his wrath.”
“Do not arouse my wrath,” returned Lady Rookwood. “I am the more to be feared. Think of Eleanor Mowbray; the bar between your nuptials is removed. Would you raise up a greater impediment?”
“Enough, mother, more than enough. You have decided, though not convinced me. Detain him within the house, if you will, until the morrow; in the meantime, I will consider over my line of conduct.”
“Is this, then, your resolve?”
“It is. Mr. Coates,” said Ranulph, calling the attorney, who had been an inquisitive spectator, though, luckily, not an auditor of this interview, “unbind the prisoner, and bring him hither.”
“Is it your ladyship’s pleasure?” asked Mr. Coates, who regretted exceedingly that he could not please both parties.
Lady Rookwood signified her assent by a slight gesture in the affirmative.
“Your bidding shall be done, Sir Ranulph,” said Coates, bowing and departing.
“Sir Ranulph!” echoed Lady Rookwood, with strong emphasis; “marked you that?”
“Body o’ me,” muttered the attorney, “this is the most extraordinary family to be sure. Make way, gentlemen, if you please,” added he, pushing through the crowd, towards the prisoner.
Having described what took place between Lady Rookwood and her son in one part of the room, we must now briefly narrate some incidental occurrences in the other. The alarm of a robber having been taken, spread with great celerity through the house, and almost all its inmates rushed into the room, including Doctor Small, Titus Tyreonnel, and Jack Palmer.
“Odsbodikins! are you there, honey?” said Titus, who discovered his ally; “the bird’s caught, you see.”
“Caught be d—d,” replied Jack, bluffly; “so I see; all his own fault; infernal folly to come here, at such a time as this. However, it can’t be helped now; he must make the best of it. And as to that sneaking, gimlet-eyed, parchment-skinned quill-driver, if I don’t serve him out for his officiousness, one of these days, my name’s not Jack Palmer.”
“Och! cushlamaeree! did I ever; why, what the devil’s the boy to you, Jack? Fair play’s a jewel, and surely Mr. Coates only did his duty. I’m sorry he’s captured, for his relationship to Sir Piers, and because I think he’ll be tucked up for his pains; and, moreover, I could forgive the poaching; but as to the breaking into a house, on such an occasion as this, och! it’s a plaguey bad look. I’m afraid he’s worse than I thought him.”