This eBook was produced by Tapio Riikonen
and David Widger
Plot on thy little hour, and skein on skein
Weave the vain mesh, in which thy subtle soul
Broods on its venom! Lo! behind, before,
Around thee, like an armament of cloud,
The black Fate labours onward—ANONYMOUS.
The dusk of a winter's evening gathered over a room in Crauford'shouse in town, only relieved from the closing darkness by an expiringand sullen fire, beside which Mr. Bradley sat, with his feet upon thefender, apparently striving to coax some warmth into the icy palms ofhis spread hands. Crauford himself was walking up and down the roomwith a changeful step, and ever and anon glancing his bright, shrewdeye at the partner of his fraud, who, seemingly unconscious of theobservation he underwent, appeared to occupy his attention solely withthe difficulty of warming his meagre and withered frame.
"Ar'n't you very cold there, sir?" said Bradley, after a long pause,and pushing himself farther into the verge of the dying embers, "may Inot ring for some more coals?"
"Hell and the—: I beg your pardon, my good Bradley, but you vex mebeyond patience; how can you think of such trifles when our very livesare in so imminent a danger?"
"I beg your pardon, my honoured benefactor, they are indeed indanger!"
"Bradley, we have but one hope,—fidelity to each other. If wepersist in the same story, not a tittle can be brought home to us,—not a tittle, my good Bradley; and though our characters may be alittle touched, why, what is a character? Shall we eat less, drinkless, enjoy less, when we have lost it? Not a whit. No, my friend,we will go abroad: leave it to me to save from the wreck of ourfortunes enough to live upon like princes."
"If not like peers, my honoured benefactor."
"'Sdeath!—yes, yes, very good,—he! he! he! if not peers. Well, allhappiness is in the senses, and Richard Crauford has as many senses asViscount Innisdale; but had we been able to protract inquiry anotherweek, Bradley, why, I would have been my Lord, and you Sir John."
"You bear your losses like a hero, sir," said Mr. Bradley. To besure: there is no loss, man, but life,—none; let us preserve that—and it will be our own fault if we don't—and the devil take all therest. But, bless me, it grows late, and, at all events, we are safefor some hours; the inquiry won't take place till twelve to-morrow,why should we not feast till twelve to-night? Ring, my good fellow:dinner must be nearly ready."
"Why, honoured sir," said Bradley, "I want to go home to see my wifeand arrange my house. Who knows but I may sleep in Newgate to-morrow?"
Crauford, who had been still walking to and fro, stopped abruptly atthis speech; and his eye, even through the gloom, shot out a livid andfierce light, before which the timid and humble glance of Mr. Bradleyquailed in an instant.
"Go home!—no, my friend, no: I can't part with you tonight, no, notfor an instant. I have many lessons to give you. How are we to learnour parts for to-morrow, if we don't rehearse them beforehand? Do younot know that a single blunder may turn what I hope will be a farceinto a tragedy? Go home!—pooh! pooh! why, man, I have not seen mywife, nor put my house to rights, and if you do but listen to me Itell you again and again that not a hair of our heads can be touched."
"You know best, honoured sir; I bow to your decision."
"Bravo, honest Brad! and now for dinner. I have the mo