Returning very late one evening from a convocation of family servants, which she had drawn together in order to fish something out of them, her maid having been in attendance on her all the evening, they found, on going home, that the house had been broken and a number of valuable articles stolen therefrom. Mrs. Logan had grown quite heartless before this stroke, having been altogether unsuccessful in her inquiries, and now she began to entertain some resolutions of giving up the fruitless search.
In a few days thereafter, she received intelligence that her clothes and plate were mostly recovered, and that she for one was bound over to prosecute the depredator, provided the articles turned out to be hers, as libelled in the indictment, and as a king’s evidence had given out. She was likewise summoned, or requested, I know not which, being ignorant of these matters, to go as far as the town of Peebles in Tweedside, in order to survey these articles on such a day, and make affidavit to their identity before the Sheriff She went accordingly; but, on entering the town by the North Gate, she was accosted by a poor girl in tattered apparel, who with great earnestness inquired if her name was not Mrs. Logan? On being answered in the affirmative, she said that the unfortunate prisoner in the Tolbooth requested her, as she valued all that was dear to her in life, to go and see her before she appeared in court at the hour of cause, as she (the prisoner) had something of the greatest moment to impart to her. Mrs. Logan’s curiosity was excited, and she followed the girl straight to the Tolbooth, who by the way said to her that she would find in the prisoner a woman of superior mind, who had gone through all the vicissitudes of life. “She has been very unfortunate, and I fear very wicked,” added the poor thing, “but she is my mother, and God knows, with all her faults and failings, she has never been unkind to me. You, madam, have it in your power to save her; but she has wronged you, and therefore, if you will not do it for her sake, do it for mine, and the God of the fatherless will reward you.”
Mrs. Logan answered her with a cast of the head, and a hem! and only remarked, that “the guilty must not always be suffered to escape, or what a world must we be doomed to live in!”
She was admitted to the prison, and found a tall emaciated figure, who appeared to have once possessed a sort of masculine beauty in no ordinary degree, but was now considerably advanced in years. She viewed Mrs. Logan with a stem, steady gaze, as if reading her features as a margin to her intellect; and when she addressed her it was not with that humility, and agonized fervour, which are natural for one in such circumstances to address to another who has the power of her life and death in her hands.
“I am deeply indebted to you for this timely visit, Mrs. Logan,” said she. “It is not that I value life, or because I fear death, that I have sent for you so expressly. But the manner of the death that awaits me has something peculiarly revolting in it to a female mind. Good God! when I think of being hung up, a spectacle to a gazing, gaping multitude, with numbers of which I have had intimacies and connections, that would render the moment of parting so hideous, that, believe me, it rends to flinders a soul born for another sphere than that in which it has moved, had not the vile selfishness of a lordly fiend ruined all my prospects and all my hopes. Hear me then; for I do not ask your pity: I only ask of you to look to yourself, and behave with womanly prudence, if you deny this day that these goods are yours, there is no other evidence whatever against my life, and it is safe for the present. For, as for the word of the wretch who has betrayed me, it is of no avail; he has prevaricated so notoriously to save himself. If you deny them, you shall have them all again to the value of a mite, and more to the bargain. If you swear to the identity of them, the process will, one way and another, cost you the half of what they are worth.”
“And what security have I for that?” said Mrs. Logan.
“You have none but my word,” said the other proudly, “and that never yet was violated. If you cannot take that, I know the worst you can do. But I had forgot—I have a poor helpless child without, waiting and starving about the prison door. Surely it was of her that I wished to speak. This shameful death of mine will leave her in a deplorable state.”
“The girl seems to have candour and strong affections,” said Mrs. Logan. “I grievously mistake if such a child would not be a thousand times better without such a guardian and director.”
“Then will you be so kind as to come to the Grass Market and see me put down?” said the prisoner. “I thought a woman would estimate a woman’s and a mother’s feelings, when such a dreadful throw was at stake, at least in part. But you are callous, and have never known any feelings but those of subordination to your old unnatural master. Alas, I have no cause of offence! I have wronged you; and justice must take its course. Will you forgive me before we part?”
Mrs. Logan hesitated, for her mind ran on something else. On which the other subjoined: “No, you will not forgive me, I see. But you will pray to God to forgive me? I know you will do that.”
Mrs. Logan heard not this jeer, but, looking at the prisoner with an absent and stupid stare, she said: “Did you know my late master?”
“Ay, that I did, and never for any good,” said she. “I knew the old and the young spark both, and was by when the latter was slain.”
This careless sentence affected Mrs. Logan in a most peculiar manner. A shower of tears burst from her eyes ere it was done, and, when it was, she appeared like one bereaved of her mind. She first turned one way and then another, as if looking for something she had dropped. She seemed to think she had lost her eyes, instead of her tears, and at length, as by instinct, she tottered close up to the prisoner’s face, and, looking wistfully and joyfully in it, said, with breathless earnestness: “Pray, mistress, what is your name?”
“My name is Arabella Calvert,” said the other. “Miss, mistress, or widow, as you choose, for I have been all the three, and that not once nor twice only. Ay, and something beyond all these. But, as for you, you have never been anything!”
“Ay, ay! and so you are Bell Calvert? Well, I thought so—I thought so,” said Mrs. Logan; and, helping herself to a seat, she came and sat down dose by the prisoner’s knee. “So you are indeed Bell Calvert, so called once. Well, of all the world you are the woman whom I have longed and travailed the most to see. But you were invisible; a being to be heard of, not seen.”
“There have been days, madam,” returned she, “when I was to be seen, and when there were few to be seen like me. But since that time there have indeed been days on which I was not to be seen. My crimes have been great, but my sufferings have been greater. So great that neither you nor the world can ever either know or conceive them. I hope they will be taken into account by the Most High. Mine have been crimes of utter desperation. But whom am I speaking to? You had better leave me to myself, mistress.”
“Leave you to yourself? That I will be loth to do till you tell me where you were that night my young master was murdered.”
“Where the devil would, I was! Will that suffice you? Ah, it was a vile action! A night to be remembered that was! Won’t you be going? I want to trust my daughter with a commission.”
“No, Mrs. Calvert, you and I part not till you have divulged that mystery to me.”
“You must accompany me to the other world, then, for you shall not have it in this.”
“If you refuse to answer me, I can have you before a tribunal, where you shall be sifted to the soul.”
“Such miserable inanity! What care I for your threatenings of a tribunal? I who must soon stand before my last earthly one? What could the word of such a culprit avail? Or, if it could, where is the judge that could enforce it?”
“Did you not say that there was some mode of accommodating matters on that score?”
“Yes,