CHAPTER VIII
When Mr. Aubrey arrived at Mr. Weasel's chambers, he looked dejected and harassed; yet, exerting his powers of self-command, he at once addressed himself, calmly and vigorously, to the business of the day. From time to time he peremptorily excluded the distressing thoughts and recollections arising out of his morning's interview with Mr. Runnington; and succeeded in concentrating his attention upon a case of more than usual intricacy and multifariousness of details, which Mr. Weasel, having glanced over, had laid aside for a more leisurely perusal. He handed it, however, to Mr. Aubrey soon after his arrival, with something approaching to a secret satisfaction, in the expectation of its "proving too much for him;" but he was mistaken. Mr. Aubrey left a little earlier than usual; but not before he had sent in the voluminous "case" to Mr. Weasel's room by the clerk, together with a half-sheet of draft paper, containing a brief summary of the results at which he had arrived; and which not a little surprised Mr. Weasel. The case did not happen to involve much technical knowledge; but, as well in respect of the imperfect manner in which it was drawn up, as of the confusion worse confounded of the transactions themselves, out of which the questions arose, there were required persevering attention, strength of memory, and great clear-headedness. In short, Weasel owned to himself that Mr. Aubrey had taken a very masterly view of the case; and how would his estimate of his pupil's ability have been enhanced, by a knowledge of the situation in which he was placed—one so calculated to distract his attention, and prevent that hearty and complete devotion to legal studies, without which Mr. Weasel well knew how vain was the attempt to master them?
"Have you read Aubrey's opinion on that troublesome case—I mean the Cornish Bank?" inquired Weasel, taking a pinch of snuff, of Mr. Thoroughpace, another pupil who had just sat down beside Mr. Weasel, to see him "settle" [i. e. score out, interline, and alter] a pleading drawn by the aforesaid Thoroughpace. That gentleman replied in the negative. "He's got a headpiece of his own, I can tell you!–Egad, somehow or another, he always contrives to hit the nail on the head!"
"I'd a sort of notion, the very first day he came, that he was a superior man," replied Thoroughpace. "He makes very few notes—seems to trust entirely to his head"–
"Ah! a man may carry that too far," interrupted Mr. Weasel, thrusting a pinch of snuff up his nose.
"Then I wish I could," replied Thoroughpace. "Isn't there such a thing as making the hand engross the business of the head?" Mr. Weasel—recollecting that in his library stood twelve thick folio volumes of manuscript "precedents," which he had been fool enough to copy out with his own hand during his pupilage, and the first year or two of his setting up in business—hemmed, and again applied to his snuff-box. "How do you get on with Aubrey in the pupils' room?" he inquired.
"Why, I didn't like him at first. Very reserved, and is not without hauteur. Even now, though very courteous, he says little, appears entirely absorbed by his studies; and yet he seems to have something or other pressing on his mind."
"Ah! I dare say! Law's no trifle, I warrant him! No doubt it's teasing him!" replied Weasel, rather complacently.
"Do you know I should doubt it! I never saw a man to whom it seemed to yield so easily.—He's a particularly gentlemanlike person, by the way; and there's something very attractive in his countenance. He seems highly connected."
"Oh—why, you've heard of the great cause of Doe d. Titmouse v. Jolter, a Yorkshire ejectment case, tried only last spring assizes?—That case, you know, about the effect of an erasure.—Well, he's the defendant, and has, I hear, lost everything."
"You astonish me! By Jove, then, he had need work!"
"Shall we set to work, Mr. Thoroughpace?" said Weasel, suddenly, looking at his watch lying on his desk. "I've promised to let them have these pleas by six o'clock—or the other side will be signing judgment;" and plunging his pen into the inkstand, to work he went, more suo, as if such a man as his pupil, Mr. Aubrey, had never existed. Weasel was not at all a hard-hearted man; but I verily believe that if a capias ad satisfaciendum (i. e. final process to take the body into custody to satisfy debt and costs) against Charles Aubrey, Esquire, had come into Mr. Weasel's chambers to be "settled" as requiring special accuracy—after humming and hawing a bit—and taking an extra pinch of snuff, he would have done his duty by the document faithfully, marked his seven-and-sixpence in the corner, and sent it out indifferently with other papers; consoling himself with this just reflection, that the thing must be done by somebody! and he might as well have the fee as any one else!
On Mr. Aubrey's return home to dinner, he found that his sister had received another long letter from Dr. Tatham, to which was appended a postscript mentioning Mr. Gammon in such terms as suggested to Mr. Aubrey a little scheme which he resolved to carry into effect on the morrow—namely, to call himself at the office of Messrs. Quirk, Gammon, and Snap, and seek an interview with Mr. Gammon, who, Dr. Tatham stated, had quitted Yatton for town only the day before the doctor had written to Miss Aubrey. After a very restless and unhappy night, during which he was tormented by all kinds of dismal dreams, Messrs. Quirk, Gammon, and Snap figuring in each as the stern and mysterious arbiters of his earthly destiny, he resolved to put an end to his present insupportable suspense—to learn at once the extent of what he had either to hope or to fear—by calling that very afternoon at Saffron Hill. For that purpose, he quitted Mr. Weasel's at the early hour of three o'clock; and straightway bent his steps towards those delectable localities—through Fetter Lane to Hatton Garden, thence inquiring his way to Saffron Hill. He was not long in finding the house of which he was in quest, his eye being soon attracted by the great, gleaming brass-plate with the words "Quirk, Gammon, and Snap," as prominent and threatening as ever those names had appeared to Titmouse in the day of his agony and suspense. He had stood gazing at them with idiot longing and vulgar apprehension, as the reader has seen. How very different a person now looked at them with feelings of intense interest and overmastering anxiety, as at the names of those who had him completely in their power—his fortunes, his liberty, his livelihood, and that of the dear beings whose interests, whose all on earth, whose personal safety—were bound up in his! Mr. Aubrey, with a jaded air, dressed in a buttoned black surtout, and with an umbrella under his arm, entered the hall, where were sitting and standing several strange-looking people—one or two suffering evidently great agitation; in fact, relatives of prisoners whose trials for capital offences were coming on the next day at Newgate—and made his way into a room, on the door of which he read "Clerks' Room."
"Now, sir, your name and business?" said a showily dressed Jewish-looking youth, with copious curls, lolling at a desk from which he did not move, and speaking in a tone of very disagreeable assurance.
"Is Mr. Gammon within? my name is Aubrey," he added, taking off his hat; and there was a certain something in his voice, countenance, and bearing—a certain courtly superiority—which induced the personage whom he had addressed to slip off his stool, and exhibit as polite an air as he could possibly assume.
"Mr. Gammon is in his room, sir, and alone. I believe he is rather busy," said the youth, going towards Mr. Gammon's room—"but I've no doubt you can see him."
The fact was, that at that very moment Mr. Gammon was engaged drawing up "Instructions to prepare Declaration" in an action for mesne profits against Mr. Aubrey! He had only the day before returned from Yatton, where circumstances had occurred which had quickened their intended proceeding against that unfortunate gentleman—that being the first quarter to which, at Mr. Titmouse's suggestion, they were to look for a considerable supply of ready money. That morning, in the very room into which Mr. Aubrey was to be presently shown, had taken place a long discussion between Mr. Quirk and Mr. Gammon, on the very subject which had now brought to their office Mr. Aubrey. Mr. Quirk was for making short work of it—for "going straight a-head"—and getting the whole £60,000 or security for the greater portion, and £20,000 down! Gammon, however, was of opinion that that was mere madness; that by attempting to proceed to extremities against so unfortunate a sufferer as Mr. Aubrey, they could not fail of drawing down on themselves and their client universal execration—(at that, Quirk only grunted and grinned;) and, moreover, of driving Mr. Aubrey desperate, and forcing him either to quit the country, or accept the protection of the insolvent laws—at this Mr. Quirk looked serious enough. Gammon had, in the end, satisfied his senior partner that their only chance was in gentleness and moderation; and the old gentleman had, as usual, agreed to adopt the plan of operations suggested by Gammon. The latter personage had quite as keen a desire and firm determination as the former, to wring out of their wretched victim the very last farthing which there was the slightest probability of obtaining; for Titmouse had pointed to that quarter for the discharge of his ten thousand pound bond, and bill of costs (which—by the way—contained some three hundred items, slightly varied in language, which stood also charged in their bill to Mr. Aubrey!) then twenty—or at least fifteen thousand pounds, were to be handed over to himself, Titmouse; and all the rest that could be got, Mr. Gammon might appropriate to his own use. Such was the prospective partition of the spoil!—Mr. Gammon's inquiries into Mr. Aubrey's circumstances, had completely convinced him, however, that it would be impossible to extract any considerable sum from that unfortunate gentleman; and that if they could contrive to get payment of their bill against him—perhaps substantial security for a portion—say four or five thousand pounds—of the mesne profits; and his own personal responsibility for the payment of any portion of the remainder, hereafter—they had better rest satisfied—and look for liquidation of their own heavy claim, to a mortgage upon the Yatton estates. Mr. Gammon had also proposed to himself certain other objects, in dealing with Mr. Aubrey, than the mere extraction of money from him; and, in short, prompted by considerations such as those above intimated, he had come to the determination, an hour or so before Mr. Aubrey's most unexpected visit, to be at once prepared with the necessary means for setting in motion legal proceedings for the recovery of the arrear of mesne profits. But we are keeping Mr. Aubrey waiting, all this while, in the outer office.
"Have I the honor to address Mr. Gammon?" commenced Mr. Aubrey, courteously, on being shown into the room—not announced by name, but only as "a gentleman"—where Gammon sat busily engaged writing out the "Instructions" for framing the rack on which it was designed to extend his unconscious visitor!
"Sir, my name is Gammon," he replied, coloring a little—and rising, with an expression of very great surprise—"I believe I have the honor of seeing Mr. Aubrey?—I beg you will allow me to offer you a chair"—he continued with forced calmness of manner, placing one as far distant as was possible from the table, and, to make assurance doubly sure, seating himself between Mr. Aubrey and the table; expecting to hear his visitor at once open the subject of their bill, which they had so recently sent in.
"Will you suffer me, Mr. Aubrey," commenced Gammon, with a bland and subdued air, not fulsome, but extremely deferential, "before entering on any business which may have brought you here, to express deep and sincere sympathy with your sufferings, and my personal regret at the share we have had in the proceedings which have ended so adversely for your interests? But our duty as professional men, Mr. Aubrey, is often as plain as painful!"
"I feel obliged, sir," said Mr. Aubrey, with a sigh, "for your kind expressions of sympathy—but I cannot for a moment conceive any apology necessary. Neither I, nor my advisers, that I am aware of, have ever had cause to complain of harsh or unprofessional treatment on your part. Your proceedings certainly came upon me—upon all of us—like a thunder-stroke," said Mr. Aubrey, with a little emotion. "I trust that you have given me credit, Mr. Gammon, for offering no vexatious or unconscientious obstacles."
"Oh, Mr. Aubrey! on the contrary, I am at a loss for words to express my sense of your straightforward and high-minded conduct; and have several times intimated my sentiments on that subject to Messrs. Runnington"—Mr. Aubrey bowed—"and again I anxiously beg that you will give me credit for feeling the profoundest sympathy"—he paused, as if from emotion; and such might well have been excited, in any person of ordinary feeling, by the appearance of Mr. Aubrey—calm and melancholy—his features full of anxiety and exhaustion, and his figure, naturally slender, evidently somewhat emaciated.
["I wonder," thought Gammon, "whether he has any insurances on his life!—He certainly has rather a consumptive look—I should like to ascertain the fact—and in what office—and to what extent."]
"I trust, most sincerely, Mr. Aubrey, that the mental sufferings which you must have undergone, have not affected your health?" inquired Gammon, with an air of infinite concern.
"A little, certainly, sir, but, thank God, I believe not materially; I never was very robust," he replied with a faint sad smile.
["How like his sister!"—thought Gammon, watching his companion's countenance with real interest.]
"I am not quite sure, Mr. Gammon," continued Aubrey, "that I am observing etiquette in thus coming to you, on a matter which you may consider ought to have been left to my solicitors, and who know nothing of my present visit—but"–
"An honorable mind like yours, Mr. Aubrey, may surely act according to its own impulses with safety! As for etiquette, I know of no professional rule which I break, in entering into a discussion with you of any topic connected with the action which has recently been determined," said Gammon, cautiously, and particularly on his guard, as soon as his penetrating eye had detected the acuteness which was mingled with the sincerity and simplicity of character visible in the oppressed countenance of Mr. Aubrey.
"I dare say you can guess the occasion of my visit, Mr. Gammon?"
["There goes our bill!—Whew!—What now?" thought Gammon.]
Mr. Gammon bowed, with an anxious, expectant air.
"I allude to the question yet remaining between your client, Mr. Titmouse, and me—the mesne profits"–
"I feared—I expected as much! It gave me infinite anxiety, as soon as I found you were approaching the subject!"
"To me it is really a matter of life and death, Mr. Gammon. It is one pressing me on, almost to the very verge of despair!"
"Do not, Mr. Aubrey," said Gammon, in a tone and with a look which touched the heart of his agitated companion, "magnify the mischief. Don't—I beg—imagine your position to be one so hopeless! What is there to stand in the way of an amicable adjustment of these claims? If I had my way, Mr. Aubrey—and if I thought I should not be acting the part of the unjust steward in Scripture—I would write sixty thousand farthings for sixty thousand pounds!"
"You have named the sum for which I believe I am legally liable to Mr. Titmouse," said Mr. Aubrey, with forced composure; "it is, however, a sum as completely out of my power to pay or secure—or even a quarter of it—as to give him one of the stars."
"I am aware, Mr. Aubrey, that you must have had many calls upon you, which must have temporarily crippled your resources"–
"Temporarily!" echoed Mr. Aubrey, with a sickening smile.
"I devoutly trust that it is only temporary! For your own and family's sake," he added quickly, observing the watchfulness with which his every look and word was regarded by his companion. "Any proposal, Mr. Aubrey," he continued with the same apparent kindness of manner, but with serious deliberation, "which you may think proper to make, I am ready—eager—to receive and consider in a liberal spirit. I repeat—If I, only, had to be consulted—you would leave this room with a lightened heart; but to be plain and candid, our client, Mr. Titmouse, is a very difficult person to deal with! I pledge my word of honor to you—[Oh Gammon! Gammon! Gammon!]—that I have repeatedly urged upon Mr. Titmouse to release you from all the rents which had been received by you previously to your having legal notice of the late proceedings." I suppose Gammon felt that this declaration was not received as implicitly as he desired, and had expected; for with a slight stiffness, he added, "I assure you, sir, that it is a fact. I have always been of opinion that the law is harsh, and even faulty in principle, which, in such a case as yours—where the possessor of an estate, to which he believed himself born, is ousted by a title of which he had no previous knowledge, nor MEANS of knowledge"—Gammon uttered this very pointedly, and with his eye fixed searchingly upon that of Mr. Aubrey—"requires him to make good the rents which he had so innocently appropriated to his own use. That is my opinion, though it may be wrong. I am bound to say, however, that as the law now stands—if Mr. Titmouse should, contrary to my advice, determine to stand upon his strict rights"–Gammon paused, shook his head, shrugged his shoulders, and looked with melancholy significance at Mr. Aubrey.
"I am entirely at his mercy! that I perfectly understand. I do trust, however, that in the name of our common humanity he will have some consideration for the helpless—the miserable situation in which I am so unexpectedly placed," said Aubrey, with mournful energy. "Never having imagined it necessary to save money"–
"Oh no—nor, with such an income as yours was, to resort, I fear, to any of the ordinary modes of providing against emergencies—by insurance of your life, for instance"—interposed Gammon, sighing.
"No—sir! nothing of the sort"—["Ah!—the deuce you have not!" thought Gammon]—"and I confess—I now bitterly feel—how improvident I have been! My situation is so deplorable and desperate, that disguise would be absurd, even could I stoop to it; and I declare, in the presence of Heaven, Mr. Gammon, that without giving up the little remnant of plate I have preserved, and my books, I am unable to liquidate even the amount of your bill sent in the day before yesterday"—Gammon gazed at Aubrey mournfully, but in silence—"and if my miserable remnant of means be so appropriated, we are literally beggars"—he paused, and his voice faltered.
"Indeed—indeed, you distress me beyond measure, Mr. Aubrey," said Gammon, in a low tone.
"If you can but secure me, sir—and that is the object of this intrusion upon you—a merciful interval, to prepare myself for the profession which I have entered—the bar—whatever earnings I might obtain, after leaving a bare maintenance for myself and family, shall be devoted faithfully to liquidate the heavy claims upon me! For myself, Mr. Gammon, I do not care about living upon bread and water for the next ten years; but there are others"—his voice trembled. "Sir," he suddenly added with almost passionate energy, "by every consideration which can influence a gentleman, I conjure you to interfere between me and utter immediate ruin!"
This was the real thrilling language of the heart; but it failed to produce the least impression upon Gammon, in whom it excited only intense chagrin and disappointment. "Oh, that it were but in my power," said he, however, with great energy, "to send you out of this room a free man! If I alone were to be consulted," he continued with vivacity, "I would instantly absolve you from all demands—or at least give you your own time, and take no other security than your word and honor!"
"Oh! what a happy—happy man! what a happy family should we be if only"–he could not finish the sentence, for he was greatly moved.
["Here's an infernal business!" thought Gammon to himself, and, bending down his head, he covered his eyes with his hands;—"worse, far worse than I had suspected. I would take five pounds for all my residuary interest in the sixty thousand pounds!! I've not the least doubt that he's speaking the truth. But the bill part of the business is highly unsatisfactory! I should like my friend Quirk to be here just now! Surely, however, Mr. Aubrey must be able to get security? With such friends and connections as his!—If one could only get one or two of them to join him in a bond for ten thousand pounds—stay—that won't exactly do either—by the way—I must have my thumb upon him!"]
"I am so profoundly affected by the situation in which you are placed, Mr. Aubrey," said Gammon, at length appearing to have subdued his emotion, and feeling it necessary to say something, "that I think I may take upon myself to say the instructions which we have received shall not be acted upon, come what may. Those must be really monsters, not men, Mr. Aubrey, who could press upon one in your position; and that such should be attempted by one who has succeeded to your former splendid advantages, is inconceivably shocking. Mr. Aubrey, you shall not be crushed—indeed you shall not, so long as I am a member—possibly not the least influential one—of this firm, and have any weight with your formidable creditor, Mr. Titmouse. I cannot do justice to my desire to shelter you and yours, Mr. Aubrey, from the storm you dread so justly!" There was a warmth, an energy in Gammon's manner, while saying all this, which cheered the drooping heart of his wretched visitor. "What I am about to say, Mr. Aubrey, is in complete confidence," continued Gammon, in a low tone. Mr. Aubrey bowed, with a little anxious excitement in his manner. "May I rely implicitly upon your honor and secrecy?"
"Most implicitly, sir. What you desire me to keep within my own breast, no one upon earth shall know from me."
"There are serious difficulties in the way of serving you. Mr. Titmouse is a weak and inexperienced young man, naturally excited to a great pitch by his present elevation, and already embarrassed for want of ready money. You may imagine, sir, that his liabilities to us are of considerable magnitude. You would hardly credit, Mr. Aubrey, the amount of mere money out of pocket for which he stands indebted to us; our outlay during the last two years having considerably crippled our own pecuniary resources in an extensive practice like ours, and driven us to incur responsibilities which are beginning to occasion us personally considerable anxiety. Of course, Mr. Aubrey, we must look to Mr. Titmouse to be speedily reimbursed: he insists upon our immediately calling upon you; and I have reason to suspect that he has at his elbow one or two very heartless advisers, who have suggested this to him; for he follows it most pertinaciously. That he cannot meet the liabilities I have alluded to out of his annual income, without swallowing it up entirely for eighteen months or two years, is certain. I regret to say that Mr. Quirk and Mr. Snap encourage his disposition to press you;—do not be alarmed, my dear sir!" he continued, observing the deadly paleness of Mr. Aubrey, whose eye was riveted upon that of Gammon; "for I declare that I will stand between you and them; and it is enough for me to say, moreover, that I have the power of doing so. I am—but this is committed specially and sacredly to your confidence—the only person living who happens to possess the means of controlling Mr. Titmouse; and since you have entered this room, I have resolved to exercise my powers. Now, bearing in mind that I have no legal authority from him, and am, at the same time, only one of a firm, and assuring you that I am entailing a serious personal responsibility upon myself in what I am doing, let me throw out for your consideration my general notion of what I think ought to be done—merely my off-hand notion."
"I perfectly understand you, sir—and am penetrated by a sense of gratitude! I listen to you with inexpressible anxiety," said Mr. Aubrey.
"Had I been consulted," continued Mr. Gammon, "we should have proposed to you, with reference to our bill, (which I frankly acknowledge contains a much more liberal entry than would probably be allowed on taxation, but with equal truth I declare that it is none of my doing,")—Gammon knew the credit for candor which this acknowledgment of a fact, of which Messrs. Runnington would quickly apprise Mr. Aubrey after examining the bill, was likely to obtain for him with Mr. Aubrey—"I say, I should have proposed to you, in the first instance, the payment of our bill by easy instalments, during the next three or four years, provided you could have obtained partial security. But I am only one of three, and I know the determination of Mr. Quirk and Mr. Snap, not to listen to any proposal with reference to the mesne profits which is not based upon—in short, they say, the bill must be paid at once without being looked into—I mean," he added quickly, "without its being subjected to the harassing and protracted scrutiny which a distrustful, an ungrateful client, or unreasonable opponent, has it too frequently in his power to inflict. Oh, let me disguise nothing from you, my dear sir, in a conversation of this kind between two gentlemen!" continued Gammon, with an admirable air of frankness, for he perceived that Mr. Aubrey looked slightly staggered. "I am ashamed to acknowledge that our bill does contain exorbitant entries—entries which have led to very frequent and fierce disputes between me and my partners. But what is to be done? Mr. Quirk is—to be completely candid with you—the moneyed man of the firm; and if you were but to glance at the articles of our partnership"—Gammon shrugged his shoulders and sighed—"you would see the tyrannical extent of power over us which he has thereby secured! You observe how candid I am—perhaps foolishly so."
["I've not quite mastered him—I can tell it by his eye"—thought Gammon—"is this a game of chess between us? I wonder whether, after all, Messrs. Runnington are aware of his being here—knowing and trusting to his ability—and have put him thoroughly on his guard? He is checking strong feelings incessantly, and evidently weighing every word I utter. Misery has sharpened faculties naturally acute."]
"Pray do not say so, Mr. Gammon, I fully appreciate your motives. I am devoured with anxiety for an intimation of the nature of the terms which you were about, so kindly, to specify."
"Specify, Mr. Aubrey, is perhaps rather too strong a term—but to proceed. Supposing the preliminary matter which I have alluded to satisfactorily arranged, I am disposed to say, that if you could find security for the payment of the sum of ten thousand pounds within a year, or a year and a half"—[Mr. Aubrey's teeth almost chattered at the mention of it]—"I—I—that is, my impression is—but—I repeat—it is only mine"—added Gammon, earnestly—"that the rest should be left to your own honor, giving at the same time a personal undertaking to pay at a future—a very distant day—in the manner most convenient to yourself—the sum of ten thousand pounds more—making in all only one-third of the sum due from you; and receiving an absolute release from Mr. Titmouse in respect of the remaining two-thirds, namely, forty thousand pounds."
Mr. Aubrey listened to all this with his feelings and faculties strung to the utmost pitch of intensity; and when Gammon had ceased, experienced a transient sense, as if the fearful mountain which had pressed so long on his heart were moving.
"Have I made myself intelligible, Mr. Aubrey?" inquired Gammon, kindly, but very gravely.
"Perfectly—but I feel so oppressed and overwhelmed with the magnitude of the topics we are discussing, that I scarcely at present appreciate the position in which you would place me. I must throw myself, Mr. Gammon, entirely upon your indulgence!"
Gammon looked a little disappointed.
"I can imagine your feelings, sir," said he, as, thrusting into a heap the papers lying on the table, he threw them into a drawer, and then took a sheet of paper and a pencil; and while he made a few memoranda of the arrangement which he had been mentioning, he continued—"You see—the grand result of what I have been hastily sketching off is—to give you ample time to pay the amount which I have named, and to relieve you, at once, absolutely from no less a sum than Forty Thousand Pounds," said he, with emphasis and deliberation, "for which—and with interest—you will otherwise remain liable to the day of your death;—there can be no escape," he continued with pointed significance of manner—"except, perhaps, into banishment, which, with your feelings, would be worse than death—for it would—of course—be a dishonorable exile—to avoid just liabilities;—and those who bear your name would, in such an"–
"Pray, sir, be silent!" exclaimed Mr. Aubrey, in a tone and manner which electrified Gammon, who started in his chair. Mr. Aubrey's face was whitened; his eye glanced lightning at his companion. Dagon-like, Gammon had put forth his hand and touched the ark of Aubrey's honor. Gammon lost his color, and for, perhaps, the first time in his life, quailed before the majesty of man; 'twas also the majesty of suffering; for he had been torturing a noble nature. Neither of them spoke for some time—Mr. Aubrey continuing highly excited—Gammon gazing at him with unfeigned amazement. The paper which he held in his hand rustled, and he was obliged to lay it down on his lap, lest Mr. Aubrey should notice this evidence of his agitation.