Rob Roy (Unabridged). Walter Scott

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СКАЧАТЬ Jobson, with all the volubility of his profession, ran over the statute of the 34 Edward III., by which justices of the peace are allowed to arrest all those whom they find by indictment or suspicion, and to put them into prison. The rogue even turned my own admissions against me, alleging, “that since I had confessedly, upon my own showing, assumed the bearing or deportment of a robber or malefactor, I had voluntarily subjected myself to the suspicions of which I complained, and brought myself within the compass of the act, having wilfully clothed my conduct with all the colour and livery of guilt.”

      I combated both his arguments and his jargon with much indignation and scorn, and observed, “That I should, if necessary, produce the bail of my relations, which I conceived could not be refused, without subjecting the magistrate in a misdemeanour.”

      “Pardon me, my good sir — pardon me,” said the insatiable clerk; “this is a case in which neither bail nor mainprize can be received, the felon who is liable to be committed on heavy grounds of suspicion, not being replevisable under the statute of the 3d of King Edward, there being in that act an express exception of such as be charged of commandment, or force, and aid of felony done;” and he hinted that his worship would do well to remember that such were no way replevisable by common writ, nor without writ.

      At this period of the conversation a servant entered, and delivered a letter to Mr. Jobson. He had no sooner run it hastily over, than he exclaimed, with the air of one who wished to appear much vexed at the interruption, and felt the consequence attached to a man of multifarious avocations —“Good God!— why, at this rate, I shall have neither time to attend to the public concerns nor my own — no rest — no quiet — I wish to Heaven another gentleman in our line would settle here!”

      “God forbid!” said the Justice in a tone of sotto-voce deprecation; “some of us have enough of one of the tribe.”

      “This is a matter of life and death, if your worship pleases.”

      “In God’s name! no more justice business, I hope,” said the alarmed magistrate.

      “No — no,” replied Mr. Jobson, very consequentially; “old Gaffer Rutledge of Grime’s-hill is subpoenaed for the next world; he has sent an express for Dr. Kill-down to put in bail — another for me to arrange his worldly affairs.”

      “Away with you, then,” said Mr. Inglewood, hastily; “his may not be a replevisable case under the statute, you know, or Mr. Justice Death may not like the doctor for a main pernor, or bailsman.”

      “And yet,” said Jobson, lingering as he moved towards the door, “if my presence here be necessary — I could make out the warrant for committal in a moment, and the constable is below — And you have heard,” he said, lowering his voice, “Mr. Rashleigh’s opinion”— the rest was lost in a whisper.

      The Justice replied aloud, “I tell thee no, man, no — we’ll do nought till thou return, man; ’tis but a four-mile ride — Come, push the bottle, Mr. Morris — Don’t be cast down, Mr. Osbaldistone — And you, my rose of the wilderness — one cup of claret to refresh the bloom of your cheeks.”

      Diana started, as if from a reverie, in which she appeared to have been plunged while we held this discussion. “No, Justice — I should be afraid of transferring the bloom to a part of my face where it would show to little advantage; but I will pledge you in a cooler beverage;” and filling a glass with water, she drank it hastily, while her hurried manner belied her assumed gaiety.

      I had not much leisure to make remarks upon her demeanour, however, being full of vexation at the interference of fresh obstacles to an instant examination of the disgraceful and impertinent charge which was brought against me. But there was no moving the Justice to take the matter up in absence of his clerk, an incident which gave him apparently as much pleasure as a holiday to a schoolboy. He persisted in his endeavours to inspire jollity into a company, the individuals of which, whether considered with reference to each other, or to their respective situations, were by no means inclined to mirth. “Come, Master Morris, you’re not the first man that’s been robbed, I trow — grieving ne’er brought back loss, man. And you, Mr. Frank Osbaldistone, are not the first bully-boy that has said stand to a true man. There was Jack Winterfield, in my young days, kept the best company in the land — at horse-races and cock-fights who but he — hand and glove was I with Jack. Push the bottle, Mr. Morris, it’s dry talking — Many quart bumpers have I cracked, and thrown many a merry main with poor Jack — good family — ready wit — quick eye — as honest a fellow, barring the deed he died for — we’ll drink to his memory, gentlemen — Poor Jack Winterfield — And since we talk of him, and of those sort of things, and since that d — d clerk of mine has taken his gibberish elsewhere, and since we’re snug among ourselves, Mr. Osbaldistone, if you will have my best advice, I would take up this matter — the law’s hard — very severe — hanged poor Jack Winterfield at York, despite family connections and great interest, all for easing a fat west-country grazier of the price of a few beasts — Now, here is honest Mr. Morris, has been frightened, and so forth — D— n it, man, let the poor fellow have back his portmanteau, and end the frolic at once.”

      Morris’s eyes brightened up at this suggestion, and he began to hesitate forth an assurance that he thirsted for no man’s blood, when I cut the proposed accommodation short, by resenting the Justice’s suggestion as an insult, that went directly to suppose me guilty of the very crime which I had come to his house with the express intention of disavowing. We were in this awkward predicament when a servant, opening the door, announced, “A strange gentleman to wait upon his honour;” and the party whom he thus described entered the room without farther ceremony.

      

Die Vernon at Judge Inglewood’s

      Chapter Ninth

       Table of Contents

      One of the thieves come back again! I’ll stand close,

       He dares not wrong me now, so near the house,

       And call in vain ’tis, till I see him offer it.

      The Widow.

      “A stranger!” echoed the Justice —“not upon business, I trust, for I’ll be”—

      His protestation was cut short by the answer of the man himself. “My business is of a nature somewhat onerous and particular,” said my acquaintance, Mr. Campbell — for it was he, the very Scotchman whom I had seen at Northallerton —“and I must solicit your honour to give instant and heedful consideration to it.— I believe, Mr. Morris,” he added, fixing his eye on that person with a look of peculiar firmness and almost ferocity —“I believe ye ken brawly what I am — I believe ye cannot have forgotten what passed at our last meeting on the road?” Morris’s jaw dropped — his countenance became the colour of tallow — his teeth chattered, and he gave visible signs of the utmost consternation. “Take heart of grace, man,” said Campbell, “and dinna sit clattering your jaws there like a pair of castanets! I think there can be nae difficulty in your telling Mr. Justice, that ye have seen me of yore, and ken me to be a cavalier of fortune, and a man of honour. Ye ken fu’ weel ye will be some time resident in my vicinity, when I may have the power, as I will possess the inclination, to do you as good a turn.”

      “Sir — sir — I believe you to be a man of honour, and, as you say, a man of fortune. Yes, Mr. Inglewood,” he added, clearing his voice, “I really believe this gentleman to be so.”

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