that. It would be telling him, and telling others also, that you are afraid of him. If he has obtained any information that may be considered of value by Joseph Mason, he can sell it at a higher price than the holding of these fields is worth."
"Would it be well—?" She was asking a question and then checked herself.
"Would what be well?"
"I am so harassed that I hardly know what I am saying. Would it be wise, do you think, if I were to pay him anything, so as to keep him quiet?"
"What; buy him off, you mean?"
"Well, yes;—if you call it so. Give him some sum of money in compensation for his land; and on the understanding, you know—," and then she paused.
"That depends on what he may have to sell," said Mr. Furnival, hardly daring to look at her.
"Ah; yes," said the widow. And then there was another pause.
"I do not think that that would be at all discreet," said Mr. Furnival. "After all, the chances are that it is all moonshine."
"You think so?"
"Yes; I cannot but think so. What can that man possibly have found among the old attorney's papers that may be injurious to your interests?"
"Ah! I do not know; I understand so little of these things. At the time they told me—you told me that the law might possibly go against my boy's rights. It would have been bad then, but it would be ten times more dreadful now."
"But there were many questions capable of doubt then, which were definitely settled at the trial. As to your husband's intellect on that day, for instance."
"There could be no doubt as to that."
"No; so it has been proved; and they will not raise that point again. Could he have possibly have made a later will?"
"No; I am sure he did not. Had he done so it could not have been found among Mr. Usbech's papers; for, as far as I remember, the poor man never attended to any business after that day."
"What day?"
"The 14th of July, the day on which he was with Sir Joseph."
It was singular, thought the barrister, with how much precision she remembered the dates and circumstances. That the circumstances of the trial should be fresh on her memory was not wonderful; but how was it that she knew so accurately things which had occurred before the trial—when no trial could have been expected? But as to this he said nothing.
"And you are sure he went to Groby Park?"
"Oh, yes; I have no doubt of it. I am quite sure."
"I do not know that we can do anything but wait. Have you mentioned this to Sir Peregrine?" It immediately occurred to Lady Mason's mind that it would be by no means expedient, even if it were possible, to keep Mr. Furnival in ignorance of anything that she really did; and therefore explained that she had seen Sir Peregrine. "I was so troubled at the first moment that I hardly knew where to turn," she said.
"You were quite right to go to Sir Peregrine."
"I am so glad you are not angry with me as to that."
"And did he say anything—anything particular?"
"He promised that he would not desert me, should there be any new difficulty."
"That is well. It is always good to have the countenance of such a neighbour as he is."
"And the advice of such a friend as you are." And she again put out her hand to him.
"Well; yes. It is my trade, you know, to give advice," and he smiled as he took it.
"How should I live through such troubles without you?"
"We lawyers are very much abused now-a-days," said Mr. Furnival, thinking of what was going on down at Birmingham at that very moment; "but I hardly know how the world would get on without us."
"Ah! but all lawyers are not like you."
"Some perhaps worse, and a great many much better. But, as I was saying, I do not think I would take any steps at present. The man Dockwrath is a vulgar, low-minded, revengeful fellow; and I would endeavour to forget him."
"Ah, if I could!"
"And why not? What can he possibly have learned to your injury?" And then as it seemed to Lady Mason that Mr. Furnival expected some reply to this question, she forced herself to give him one. "I suppose that he cannot know anything."
"I tell you what I might do," said Mr. Furnival, who was still musing. "Round himself is not a bad fellow, and I am acquainted with him. He was the junior partner in that house at the time of the trial, and I know that he persuaded Joseph Mason not to appeal to the Lords. I will contrive, if possible, to see him. I shall be able to learn from him at any rate whether anything is being done."
"And then if I hear that there is not, I shall be comforted."
"Of course; of course."
"But if there is—"
"I think there will be nothing of the sort," said Mr. Furnival, leaving his seat as he spoke.
"But if there is—I shall have your aid?" and she slowly rose from her chair as she spoke.
Mr. Furnival gave her a promise of this, as Sir Peregrine had done before; and then with her handkerchief to her eyes she thanked him. Her tears were not false as Mr. Furnival well saw; and seeing that she wept, and seeing that she was beautiful, and feeling that in her grief and in her beauty she had come to him for aid, his heart was softened towards her, and he put out his arms as though he would take her to his heart—as a daughter. "Dearest friend," he said, "trust me that no harm shall come to you."
"I will trust you," she said, gently stopping the motion of his arm. "I will trust you, altogether. And when you have seen Mr. Round, shall I hear from you?"
At this moment, as they were standing close together, the door opened, and Mr. Crabwitz introduced another lady—who indeed had advanced so quickly towards the door of Mr. Furnival's room, that the clerk had been hardly able to reach it before her.
"Mrs. Furnival, if you please, sir," said Mr. Crabwitz.
CHAPTER XIII.
GUILTY, OR NOT GUILTY.
Unfortunately for Mr. Furnival, the intruder was Mrs. Furnival—whether he pleased or whether he did not please. There she was in his law chamber, present in the flesh, a sight pleasing neither to her husband nor to her husband's client. She had knocked at the outside door, which, in the absence of the fag, had been opened by Mr. Crabwitz, and had immediately walked across the passage towards her husband's room, expressing her knowledge that Mr. Furnival was within. Mr. Crabwitz had all the will in the world to stop her progress, but he found that he lacked the power to stay it for a moment.
The advantages of matrimony are many and great—so many and so great, that all men, doubtless, ought to marry. But even matrimony may have its drawbacks; among which unconcealed and undeserved jealousy on the part of the wife is perhaps as disagreeable as any. What is a man to do when he is accused before the world—before any small fraction of the world, of making love to some lady of his acquaintance? What is he to say? What way is he to look? "My love, I didn't. I never did, and wouldn't think of it for worlds. I say it with my hand on my heart. There is Mrs. Jones herself, and I appeal to her." He is reduced to that! But should any innocent man be so reduced by the wife of his bosom?
I am speaking of undeserved jealousy, and it may therefore be thought that my remarks do not apply to Mrs. Furnival. They do apply to her as much as to any woman. That general idea as to the strange goddesses was on her part no more than a suspicion: and all women who so torment themselves and their husbands may plead as