Grant Allen - "Recalled to Life"

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Rabindranath Tagore (trans.) - "Songs of Kabir"

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Books: He Knew He Was Right

A >> Anthony Trollope >> He Knew He Was Right




But Trevelyan was still down-stairs waiting for the child. At last it
was arranged that Nora should take the boy into the drawing-room, and
that Mrs Outhouse should fetch the father up from the parlour to the
room above it. Angry as was Mrs Trevelyan with her husband, not the
less was she anxious to make the boy good-looking and seemly in his
father's eyes. She washed the child's face, put on him a clean frill
and a pretty ribbon; and, as she did so, she bade him kiss his papa,
and speak nicely to him, and love him. 'Poor papa is unhappy,' she
said, 'and Louey must be very good to him.' The boy, child though he
was, understood much more of what was passing around him than his
mother knew. How was he to love papa when mamma did not do so? In some
shape that idea had framed itself in his mind; and, as he was taken
down, he knew it was impossible that he should speak nicely to his
papa. Nora did as she was bidden, and went down to the first-floor. Mrs
Outhouse, promising that even if she were put out of the room by Mr
Trevelyan she would not stir from the landing outside the door,
descended to the parlour and quickly returned with the unfortunate
father. Mr Outhouse, in the meantime, was still sitting in his closet,
tormented with curiosity, but yet determined not to be seen till the
intruder should have left his house.

'I hope you are well, Nora,' he said, as he entered the room with Mrs
Outhouse.

'Quite well, thank you, Louis.'

'I am sorry that our troubles should have deprived you of the home you
had been taught to expect.' To this Nora made no reply, but escaped,
and went up to her sister. 'My poor little boy,' said Trevelyan, taking
the child and placing it on his knee. 'I suppose you have forgotten
your unfortunate father.' The child, of course, said nothing, but just
allowed himself to be kissed.

'He is looking very well,' said Mrs Outhouse.

'Is he? I dare say he is well. Louey, my boy, are you happy?' The
question was asked in a voice that was dismal beyond compare, and it
also remained unanswered. He had been desired to speak nicely to his
papa; but how was it possible that a child should speak nicely under
such a load of melancholy? 'He will not speak to me,' said Trevelyan.
'I suppose it is what I might have expected.' Then the child was put
off his knee on to the floor, and began to whimper. 'A few months since
he would sit there for hours, with his head upon my breast,' said
Trevelyan.

'A few months is a long time in the life of such an infant,' said Mrs
Outhouse.

'He may go away,' said Trevelyan. Then the child was led out of the
room, and sent up to his mother.

'Emily has done all she can to make the child love your memory,' said
Mrs Outhouse.

'To love my memory! What as though I were dead. I will teach him to
love me as I am, Mrs Outhouse. I do not think that it is too late. Will
you tell your husband from me, with my compliments, that I shall cause
him to be served with a legal demand for the restitution of my child?'

'But Sir Marmaduke will be here in a few days.'

'I know nothing of that. Sir Marmaduke is nothing to me now. My child
is my own and so is my wife. Sir Marmaduke has no authority over either
one or the other. I find my child here, and it is here that I must look
for him. I am sorry that you should be troubled, but the fault does not
rest with me. Mr Outhouse has refused to give me up my own child, and I
am driven to take such steps for his recovery as the law has put within
my reach.'

'Why did you turn your wife out of doors, Mr Trevelyan?' asked Mrs
Outhouse boldly.

'I did not turn her out of doors. I provided a fitting shelter for her.
I gave her everything that she could want. You know what happened. That
man went down and was received there. I defy you, Mrs Outhouse, to say
that it was my fault.'

Mrs Outhouse did attempt to show him that it was his fault; but while
she was doing so he left the house. 'I don't think she could go back to
him,' said Mrs Outhouse to her husband. 'He is quite insane upon this
matter.'

'I shall be insane, I know,' said Mr Outhouse, 'if Sir Marmaduke does
not come home very quickly.' Nevertheless he quite ignored any legal
power that might be brought to bear against him as to the restitution
of the child to its father.



CHAPTER LXI - PARKER'S HOTEL, MOWBRAY STREET

Within a week of the occurrence which is related in the last chapter,
there came a telegram from Southampton to the parsonage at St.
Diddulph's, saying that Sir Marmaduke and Lady Rowley had reached
England. On the evening of that day they were to lodge at a small
family hotel in Baker Street, and both Mrs Trevelyan and Nora were to
be with them. The leave-taking at the parsonage was painful, as on both
sides there existed a feeling that affection and sympathy were wanting.
The uncle and aunt had done their duty, and both Mrs Trevelyan and Nora
felt that they ought to have been demonstrative and cordial in their
gratitude but they found it impossible to become so. And the rector
could not pretend but that he was glad to be rid of his guests. There
were, too, some last words about money to be spoken, which were
grievous thorns in the poor man's flesh. Two bank notes, however, were
put upon his table, and he knew that unless he took them he could not
pay for the provisions which his unwelcome visitors had consumed.
Surely there never was a man so cruelly ill-used as had been Mr
Outhouse in all this matter. 'Another such winter as that would put me
in my grave,' he said, when his wife tried to comfort him after they
were gone. 'I know that they have both been very good to us,' said Mrs
Trevelyan, as she and her sister, together with the child and the
nurse, hurried away toward Baker Street in a cab, 'but I have never for
a moment felt that they were glad to have us.' 'But how could they have
been glad to have us,' she added afterwards, 'when we brought such
trouble with us?' But they to whom they were going now would receive
her with joy would make her welcome with all her load of sorrows, would
give to her a sympathy which it was impossible that she should receive
from others. Though she might not be happy now for in truth how could
she be ever really happy again there would be a joy to her in placing
her child in her mother's arms, and in receiving her father's warm
caresses. That her father would be very vehement in his anger against
her husband she knew well for Sir Marmaduke was a vehement man. But
there would be some support for her in the very violence of his wrath,
and at this moment it was such support that she most needed. As they
journeyed together in the cab, the married sister seemed to be in the
higher spirits of the two. She was sure, at any rate, that those to
whom she was going would place themselves on her side. Nora had her own
story to tell about Hugh Stanbury, and was by no means so sure that her
tale would be received with cordial agreement. 'Let me tell them
myself,' she whispered to her sister. 'Not to-night, because they will
have so much to say to you; but I shall tell mamma to-morrow.'

The train by which the Rowleys were to reach London was due at the
station at 7.30 p.m., and the two sisters timed their despatch from St.
Diddulph's so as to enable them to reach the hotel at eight. 'We shall
be there now before mamma,' said Nora, 'because they will have so much
luggage, and so many things, and the trains are always late.' When they
started from the door of the parsonage, Mr Outhouse gave the direction
to the cabman, 'Gregg's Hotel, Baker Street.' Then at once he began to
console himself in that they were gone.

It was a long drive from St. Diddulph's in the east, to Marylebone in
the west, of London. None of the part in the cab knew anything of the
region through which they passed. The cabman took the line by the back
of the Bank, and Finsbury Square and the City Road, thinking it best,
probably, to avoid the crush at Holborn Hill, though at the expense of
something of a circuit. But of this Mrs Trevelyan and Nora knew
nothing. Had their way taken them along Piccadilly, or through Mayfair,
or across Grosvenor Square, they would have known where they were; but
at present they were not thinking of those once much-loved localities.
The cab passed the Angel, and up and down the hill at Pentonville, and
by the King's Cross stations, and through Euston Square and then it
turned up Gower Street. Surely the man should have gone on along the
New Road, now that he had come so far out of his way. But of this the
two ladies knew nothing nor did the nurse. It was a dark, windy night,
but the lamps in the streets had given them light, so that they had not
noticed the night. Nor did they notice it now as the streets became
narrower and darker. They were hardly thinking that their journey was
yet at an end, and the mother was in the act of covering her boy's face
as he lay asleep on the nurse's lap, when the cab was stopped. Nora
looking out through the window, saw the word 'Hotel' over a doorway,
and was satisfied.'shall I take the child, ma'am?' said a man in black,
and the child was handed out. Nora was the first to follow, and she
then perceived that the door of the hotel was not open. Mrs Trevelyan
followed; and then they looked round them and the child was gone. They
heard the rattle of another cab as it was carried away at a gallop
round a distant corner and then some inkling of what had happened came
upon them. The father had succeeded in getting possession of his child.

It was a narrow, dark street, very quiet, having about it a certain air
of poor respectability an obscure, noiseless street, without even a
sign of life. Some unfortunate one had endeavoured here to keep an
hotel but there was no hotel kept there now. There had been much craft
in selecting the place in which the child had been taken from them. As
they looked around them, perceiving the terrible misfortune which had
befallen them, there was not a human being near them save the cabman,
who was occupied in unchaining, or pretending to unchain the heavy mass
of luggage on the roof. The windows of the house before which they were
stopping, were closed, and Nora perceived at once that the hotel was
not inhabited. The cabman must have perceived it also. As for the man
who had taken the child, the nurse could only say that he was dressed
in black, like a waiter, that he had a napkin under his arm, and no hat
on his head. He had taken the boy tenderly in his arms and then she had
seen nothing further. The first thing that Nora had seen, as she stood
on the pavement, was the other cab moving off rapidly.

Mrs Trevelyan had staggered against the railings, and was soon
screaming in her wretchedness. Before long there was a small crowd
around them, comprising three or four women, a few boys, an old man or
two and a policeman. To the policeman Nora had soon told the whole
story, and the cabman was of course attacked. But the cabman played his
part very well. He declared that he had done just what he had been told
to do. Nora was indeed sure that she had heard her uncle desire him to
drive to Gregg's Hotel in Baker Street. The cabman in answer to this,
declared that he had not clearly heard the old gentleman's directions;
but that a man whom he had conceived to be a servant, had very plainly
told him to drive to Parker's Hotel, Mowbray Street, Gower Street. 'I
comed ever so far out of my way,' said the cabman, 'to avoid the rumpus
with the homnibuses at the hill cause the ladies things is so heavy
we'd never got up if the 'otherwise had once jibbed.' All which, though
it had nothing to do with the matter, seemed to impress the policeman
with the idea that the cabman, if not a true man, was going to be too
clever for them on this occasion. And the crafty cabman went on to
declare that his horse was so tired with the road that he could not go
on to Baker Street. They must get another cab. Take his number! Of
course they could take his number. There was his number. His fare was
four and six that is if the ladies wouldn't pay him anything extra for
the terrible load; and he meant to have it. It would be sixpence more
if they kept him there many minutes longer. The number was taken, and
another cab was got, and the luggage was transferred, and the money was
paid, while the unhappy mother was still screaming in hysterics against
the railings. What had been done was soon clear enough to all those
around her. Nora had told the policeman, and had told one of the women,
thinking to obtain their sympathy and assistance. 'It's the kid's dada
as has taken it,' said one man, 'and there ain't nothing to be done.'
There was nothing to be done nothing at any rate then and there.

Nora had been very eager that the cabman should be arrested; but the
policeman assured her that such an arrest was out of the question, and
would have been useless had it been possible. The man would be
forthcoming if his presence should be again desired, but he had
probably so said the policeman really been desired to drive to Mowbray
Street. 'They knows where to find me if they wants me only I must be
paid my time,' said the cabman confidently. And the policeman was of
opinion that as the boy had been kidnapped on behalf of the father, no
legal steps could be taken either for the recovery of the child or for
the punishment of the perpetrators of the act. He got up, however, on
the box of the cab, and accompanied the party to the hotel in Baker
Street. They reached it almost exactly at the same time with Sir
Marmaduke and Lady Rowley, and the reader must imagine the confusion,
the anguish, and the disappointment of that meeting. Mrs Trevelyan was
hardly in possession of her senses when she reached her mother, and
could not be induced to be tranquil even when she was assured by her
father that her son would suffer no immediate evil by being transferred
to his father's hands. She in her frenzy declared that she would never
see her little one again, and seemed to the father might not improbably
destroy the child. 'He is mad, papa, and does not know what he does. Do
you mean to say that a madman may do as he pleases? that he may rob my
child from me in the streets? that he may take him out of my very arms
in that way?' And she was almost angry with her father because no
attempt was made that night to recover the boy.

Sir Marmaduke, who was not himself a good lawyer, had been closeted
with the policeman for a quarter of an hour, and had learned the
policeman's views. Of course, the father of the child was the person
who had done the deed. Whether the cabman had been in the plot or not,
was not matter of much consequence. There could be no doubt that some
one had told the man to go to Parker's Hotel, as the cab was starting;
and it would probably be impossible to punish him in the teeth of such
instructions. Sir Marmaduke, however, could doubtless have the cabman
summoned. And as for the absolute abduction of the child, the policeman
was of opinion that a father could not be punished for obtaining
possession of his son by such a stratagem, unless the custody of the
child had been made over to the mother by some court of law. The
policeman, indeed, seemed to think that nothing could be done, and Sir
Marmaduke was inclined to agree with him. When this was explained to
Mrs Trevelyan by her mother, she again became hysterical in her agony,
and could hardly be restrained from going forth herself to look for her
lost treasure.

It need hardly be further explained that Trevelyan had planned the
stratagem in concert with Mr Bozzle. Bozzle, though strongly cautioned
by his wife to keep himself out of danger in the matter, was sorely
tempted by his employer's offer of a hundred pounds. He positively
refused to be a party to any attempt at violence at St. Diddulph's; but
when he learned, as he did learn, that Mrs Trevelyan, with her sister
and baby, were to be transferred from St. Diddulph's in a cab to Baker
Street, and that the journey was luckily to be made during the shades
of evening, his active mind went to work, and he arranged the plan.
There were many difficulties, and even some pecuniary difficulty. He
bargained that he should have his hundred pounds clear of all deduction
for expenses and then the attendant expenses were not insignificant. It
was necessary that there should be four men in the service, all good
and true; and men require to be well paid for such goodness and truth.
There was the man, himself an ex-policeman, who gave the instructions
to the first cabman, as he was starting. The cabman would not undertake
the job at all unless he were so instructed on the spot, asserting that
in this way he would be able to prove that the orders he obeyed came
from the lady's husband. And there was the crafty pseudo-waiter, with
the napkin and no hat, who had carried the boy to the cab in which his
father was sitting. And there were the two cabmen. Bozzle planned it
all, and with some difficulty arranged the preliminaries. How
successful was the scheme, we have seen; and Bozzle, for a month, was
able to assume a superiority over his wife, which that honest woman
found to be very disagreeable.

'There ain't no fraudulent abduction in it at all,' Bozzle exclaimed,
'because a wife ain't got no rights again her husband not in such a
matter as that.' Mrs Bozzle implied that if her husband were to take
her child away from her without her leave, she'd let him know something
about it. But as the husband had in his possession the note for a
hundred pounds, realized, Mrs Bozzle had not much to say in support of
her view of the case.

On the morning after the occurrence, while Sir Marmaduke was waiting
with his solicitor upon a magistrate to find whether anything could be
done, the following letter was brought to Mrs Trevelyan at Gregg's
Hotel:

'Our child is safe with me, and will remain so. If you care to obtain
legal advice you will find that I as his father have a right to keep
him under my protection. I shall do so; but will allow you to see him
as soon as I shall have received a full guarantee that you have no idea
of withdrawing him from my charge.

A home for yourself with me is still open to you on condition that you
will give me the promise that I have demanded from you; and as long as
I shall not hear that you again see or communicate with the person to
whose acquaintance I object. While, you remain away from me I will
cause you to be paid 50 a month, as I do not wish that you should be a
burden on others. But this payment will depend also on your not seeing
or holding any communication with the person to whom I have alluded.

Your affectionate and offended husband,

Louis TREVELYAN.

A letter addressed to The Acrobats' Club will reach me.'



Sir Rowley came home dispirited and unhappy, and could not give much
comfort to his daughter. The magistrate had told him that though the
cabman might probably be punished for taking the ladies otherwise than
as directed if the direction to Baker Street could be proved nothing
could be done to punish the father. The magistrate explained that under
a certain Act of Parliament the mother might apply to the Court of
Chancery for the custody of any children under seven years of age, and
that the court would probably grant such custody unless it were shewn
that the wife had left her husband without sufficient cause. The
magistrate could not undertake to say whether or no sufficient cause
had here been given or whether the husband was in fault or the wife. It
was, however, clear that nothing could be done without application to
the Court of Chancery. It appeared so said the magistrate that the
husband had offered a home to his wife, and that in offering it he had
attempted to impose no conditions which could be shewn to be cruel
before a judge. The magistrate thought that Mr Trevelyan had done
nothing illegal in taking the child from the cab. Sir Marmaduke, on
hearing this, was of opinion that nothing could be gained by legal
interference. His private desire was to get hold of Trevelyan and pull
him limb from limb. Lady Rowley thought that her daughter had better go
back to her husband, let the future consequences be what they might.
And the poor desolate mother herself had almost brought herself to
offer to do so, having in her brain some idea that she would after a
while be able to escape with her boy. As for love for her husband,
certainly there was none now left in her bosom. Nor could she teach
herself to think it possible that she should ever live with him again
on friendly terms. But she would submit to anything with the object of
getting back her boy. Three or four letters were written to Mr
Trevelyan in as many days from his wife, from Lady Rowley, and from
Nora; in which various overtures were made. Trevelyan wrote once again
to his wife. She knew, he said, already the terms on which she might
come back. These terms were still open to her. As for the boy, he
certainly should not leave his father. A meeting might be planned on
condition that he, Trevelyan, were provided with a written assurance
from his wife that she would not endeavour to remove the boy, and that
he himself should be present at the meeting.

Thus the first week was passed after Sir Marmaduke's return and a most
wretched time it was for all the party at Gregg's Hotel.



CHAPTER LXII - LADY ROWLEY MAKES AN ATTEMPT

Nothing could be more uncomfortable than the state of Sir Marmaduke
Rowley's family for the first ten days after the arrival in London of
the Governor of the Mandarin Islands. Lady Rowley had brought with her
two of her girls the third and fourth and, as we know, had been joined
by the two eldest, so that there was a large family of ladies gathered
together. A house had been taken in Manchester Street, to which they
had intended to transfer themselves after a single night passed at
Gregg's Hotel. But the trouble and sorrow inflicted upon them by the
abduction of Mrs Trevelyan's child, and the consequent labours thrust
upon Sir Marmaduke's shoulders had been so heavy, that they had slept
six nights at the hotel, before they were able to move themselves into
the house prepared for them. By that time all idea had been abandoned
of recovering the child by any legal means to be taken as a consequence
of the illegality of the abduction. The boy was with his father, and
the lawyers seemed to think that the father's rights were paramount as
he had offered a home to his wife without any conditions which a court
of law would adjudge to be cruel. If she could shew that he had driven
her to live apart from him by his own bad conduct, then probably the
custody of her boy might be awarded to her, until the child should be
seven years old. But when the circumstances of the case were explained
to Sir Marmaduke's lawyer by Lady Rowley, that gentleman shook his
head. Mrs Trevelyan had, he said, no case with which she could go into
court. Then by degrees there were words whispered as to the husband's
madness. The lawyer said that that was a matter for the doctors. If a
certain amount of medical evidence could be obtained to show that the
husband was in truth mad, the wife could, no doubt, obtain the custody
of the child. When this was reported to Mrs Trevelyan, she declared
that conduct such as her husband's must suffice to prove any man to be
mad; but at this Sir Marmaduke shook his head, and Lady Rowley sat,
sadly silent, with her daughter's hand within her own. They would not
dare to tell her that she could regain her child by that plea.

During those ten days they did not learn whither the boy had been
carried, nor did they know even where the father might be found. Sir
Marmaduke followed up the address as given in the letter, and learned
from the porter at 'The Acrobats' that the gentleman's letters were
sent to No. 65, Stony Walk, Union Street, Borough. To this
uncomfortable locality Sir Marmaduke travelled more than once. Thrice
he went thither, intent on finding his son-in-law's residence. On the
two first occasions he saw no one but Mrs Bozzle; and the discretion of
that lady in declining to give any information was most admirable.
'Trewillian!' Yes, she had heard the name certainly. It might be that
her husband had business engagements with a gent of that name. She
would not say even that for certain, as it was not her custom ever to
make any inquiries as to her husband's business engagements. Her
husband's business engagements were, she said, much too important for
the 'likes of she' to know anything about them. When was Bozzle likely
to be at home? Nozzle was never likely to be at home. According to her
showing, Bozzle was of all husbands the most erratic. He might perhaps
come in for an hour or two in the middle of the day on a Wednesday, or
perhaps would take a cup of tea at home on Friday evening. But anything
so fitful and uncertain as were Bozzle's appearances in the bosom of
his family was not to be conceived in the mind of woman. Sir Marmaduke
then called in the middle of the day on Wednesday, but Bozzle was
reported to be away in the provinces. His wife had no idea in which of
the provinces he was at that moment engaged. The persevering governor
from the islands called again on the Friday evening, and then, by
chance, Bozzle was found at home. But Sir Marmaduke succeeded in
gaining very little information even from Bozzle. The man acknowledged
that he was employed by Mr Trevelyan. Any letter or parcel left with
him for Mr Trevelyan should be duly sent to that gentleman. If Sir
Marmaduke wanted Mr Trevelyan's address, he could write to Mr Trevelyan
and ask for it. If Mr Trevelyan declined to give it, was it likely that
he, Bozzle, should betray it? Sir Marmaduke explained who he was at
some length. Bozzle with a smile assured the governor that he knew very
well who he was. He let drop a few words to show that he was intimately
acquainted with the whole course of Sir Marmaduke's family affairs. He
knew all about the Mandarins, and Colonel Osborne, and Gregg's Hotel
not that he said anything about Parker's Hotel and the Colonial Office.
He spoke of Miss Nora, and even knew the names of the other two young
ladies, Miss Sophia and Miss Lucy. It was a weakness with Bozzle that
of displaying his information. He would have much liked to be able to
startle Sir Marmaduke by describing the Government House in the island,
or by telling him something of his old carriage-horses. But of such
information as Sir Marmaduke desired, Sir Marmaduke got none.