CHAPTER CVIII.

CONCLUSION OF THE TALE OF SORROW.

"Although I was enabled to administer temporary assistance to this unfortunate and persecuted family, and, under the delicate guise of a _loan_ of money, _gave_ them the wherewith to make themselves comparatively comfortable, it was nevertheless necessary for Alexander to resolve upon some decisive step. To remain in prison was to bury his talents in a manner so as to render them completely unavailable,—to think of liquidating the enormous burthen of debt which lay upon his shoulders, was ridiculous,—and to move the stony heart of Walkden was a hopeless idea. The only alternative was the Insolvents' Court. Good food, medical attendance, and the altered appearance of his wife and children, who had all improved greatly, restored Alexander to some degree of health and spirits; and he soon began to discuss with me and Lucy his present position and plans for the future. The lawyer who had enabled him to pass over to the Bench, returned to town at this precise period, after some weeks' absence; and he not only agreed to provide the funds to take Alexander through the Insolvents' Court, but also promised to give him employment as a clerk on his release. Thus was it that this good man infused hope into the bosoms of the Craddocks; and the necessary steps were adopted to effect the emancipation of the prisoner. But scarcely were the initiatory proceedings set on foot, when intelligence was received to the effect that Walkden was resolved to oppose Alexander's discharge by all the means that were within his power. This intimation, which reached the prison through a private channel, aroused Alexander's fury against the man who so unrelentingly persecuted him; and it required all the attentions of his amiable wife and all the manifestations of friendship which I was enabled to offer, to restore him to comparative tranquillity.

"Well, the day fixed for his examination at the Insolvents' Court arrived; and Alexander proceeded thither in the usual charge of a tipstaff. His case was called on at an early stage of the day's business; and he found a formidable array of counsel employed against him. I shall not pause to dwell upon all the details of the proceeding: suffice it to say that Walkden was placed in the witness-box, and, being examined by the barristers whom he had feed, made the entire case look so fearfully black against Alexander Craddock, that he was remanded to gaol for twelve months, his discharge to take place at the expiration of that period. Fearful was the state of excitement in which he returned to the Bench; and in the course of a few hours he was delirious. It was frightful to hear his ravings, in which the name of Walkden was uppermost, and associated with the bitterest imprecations and menaces. Poor Lucy! I thought her heart would break, as she sate watching by her husband's bed; but she was rewarded to some extent for her vigils and her sorrow, when, on the return of his senses, he recognised her before he even knew his own children, much less me—his humble friend,—and manifested his purest love for her in the most impassioned language and with the tenderest embraces. But though the delirium left him and returned no more, he soon fell into a deep and brooding melancholy, from which it was scarcely possible to arouse him. He fancied himself dishonoured—permanently dishonoured by the sentence passed upon him by the Insolvents' Court; and though the friendly lawyer and myself, as well as Lucy, endeavoured to reason with him against the belief,—pointing out every circumstance calculated to prove that he was a victim, and not a culprit,—he took the matter so to heart that it was evident his spirit was broken!

"My own resources began to fall off at this period, and I was unable to assist the Craddocks as much as I could wish. Moreover, Alexander and Lucy both felt averse to remain dependant upon me; and the friendly lawyer had proved so generous that they were naturally delicate in applying to him. Lucy accordingly made up her mind how to act. She proposed that they should remove over to the Poor-Side, and receive the County money. They would thus obtain a room rent free, and a few shillings a-week to purchase bread. Alexander's pride struggled against this project; but he yielded at last to the entreaties and representations of his excellent wife, who assured him that she felt no shame in showing that she was poor, and that the only real disgrace lay in dishonesty. 'Wherefore, then, should we contract any debts which we cannot pay?' she enquired; 'and if we continue to live in this part of the prison we must keep up certain appearances, which we have not the means to do.'—Alexander succumbed, I say, to this reasoning; and to the Poor-Side they accordingly removed. I never shall forget the day when this change took place. Lucy had made the new chamber look as neat at possible; and she endeavoured to maintain a smiling exterior as she arranged the little furniture and the few things of their own which were left to them. But every now and then she glanced anxiously towards her husband, who sat in a musing—or rather an apathetic manner—watching her proceedings; and I observed that a tear frequently started to her eye, and that every now and then she caught up her children and pressed them passionately to her bosom. I insisted upon providing dinner on that day; and I did all I could not only to make this poor family as comfortable as possible, but also to raise Alexander's spirits. But if he smiled it was so faintly, or sickly, that my heart sank within me as if he had been my own son.

"A few weeks passed away, and I observed that Lucy managed to keep the family pretty comfortably. They had no lack of plain and humble food—and the children were always neat and clean. Whenever I called at their room, I found Lucy busy in some way or another—either washing or mending the clothes, or ironing out her husband's linen, or else plying the needle at work which, though I know little of such matters, did not seem to me to have any reference to the family wardrobe at all. One night I could not sleep, and got up to take a walk round the prison. It was between twelve and one; and, as I passed round by the Poor-Side, I chanced to look up at the window of the Craddocks' room. To my surprise, I observed a light burning; and the truth flashed upon me. Poor Lucy was sitting up to work—to waste her youth, her health, and her spirits over the needle, that she might obtain the means to purchase comforts for her husband and children! The conviction went to my very heart like a pang; and I thought how bitter is often the mission of a good and virtuous woman in this world! I remember that I had no inclination to retire to rest again that night; and I kept walking—walking round the prison, impelled by some invincible influence thus to wander about the gloomy place, as if to watch how long the feeble light would be burning in that one room! It was nearly four o'clock when that light was extinguished; and I heaved a sigh as I murmured to myself the name of poor Lucy Craddock! When day came, and I was enabled to call upon Alexander after breakfast. I examined the young wife and mother with more attention than usual; and it then struck me that she was visibly wasting away. Her health was evidently declining; and her spirits were entirely forced. She was gay and lively as ever; but that gaiety and liveliness were assumed, not real—artificial, not natural,—the veil which an excellent and amiable woman—a most affectionate wife and the best of mothers—put on to cover the secret of her breaking heart!

"Three mouths of the year for which Alexander had been remanded, passed away; and Lucy beheld her children drooping and pining through want of proper air and exercise. This discovery was a new affliction. She would not permit the little things to play about along with the ragged, dirty offspring of the other prisoners on the Poor-Side; and she was unable to spare the time to take them out herself. I understood the struggle that was passing in her mind. If she devoted an hour or two each day to them, she must give up some of the work which, as I found out, she had obtained from a warehouse in the Borough; and by so doing their comforts and those of her husband would be abridged. On the other hand, she could not see those poor innocents confined to a close room and pining for fresh air. She accordingly resolved to take them out for a certain period each day, and to steal another hour or two from her repose. I knew that she did this, because when I either walked about until very late, or else rose early to take my ramble about the prison, I saw the light in the chamber even at five o'clock in the morning! My God! It is as true as I am here, that this poor, devoted woman at length limited herself to only three hours' rest; and though her children improved in health, her own was suffering the most frightful ravages. It was evident that Alexander did not suspect the labour and toil which his wife endured: he had sunk into a species of apathy which blinded him to a fact that I discovered so easily, and which gave me the acutest pain. You may be sure that I did all I could for the family, and in as delicate a way as possible,—always proposing to join my dinner to their's when I knew that I had a better one than they; but my own resources were becoming daily more cramped; and my accursed Chancery business not only lingered on, but absorbed all the funds I could raise or my friends could muster in my behalf. Thus six months passed away—Lucy in the meantime being worn down to a skeleton, and seeming only the shadow of her former self. Still she grew not, slovenly: dirt—that too frequent companion of poverty—was not the characteristic of her little chamber; and her husband always had his clean shirt for the Sabbath, and even decent apparel, considering that he lived on the Poor-Side of the King's Bench Prison!

"It was Term Time; and my business compelled me to take a day-rule. That is to say, I obtained permission to go out for a day to attend to my affairs, my friends giving security to the Marshal of the Bench for my safe return. I resolved to avail myself of this opportunity to call on Walkden, and represent to him the cruelty and absurdity of keeping Alexander in confinement, when by withdrawing the detainer he might restore him to freedom. I was prepared to find Walkden a severe and hard man; but the reception I experienced was calculated to make me set him down as a fiend in mortal shape. The moment I mentioned my business, he stopped me short,—rising from his seat, and saying in a cold, icy manner, 'The name of Craddock is abhorrent to me, sir. I was grossly insulted by his injurious suspicions; and he shall rot in prison before I permit him to escape my vengeance. He thinks that he will be freed in six months' time; but he is mistaken.'—'No, sir,' I exclaimed indignantly, 'it is you who are mistaken. The fiat of the Insolvents' Court is stronger than your vindictive will.'—'We shall see,' observed Walkden, in an implacable tone; and I was compelled to withdraw, not only grieved at the ill-success of my visit, but filled with vague apprehensions that fresh persecutions were in waiting for my unhappy friend. But I did not breathe a word to either Alexander or Lucy relative to the step which I had taken nor the fears thus excited within me; although I could not banish the lawyer's dark menace from my thoughts. Months passed away—Lucy still managing to keep the wolf from the door, as the vulgar phrase goes; while her health was sinking rapidly.

"At length the period drew nigh when Alexander expected to obtain his deliverance; and now his spirits began to rise. He gradually shook off the apathy which had so long clouded his intellect and impaired his energies; and he spoke highly of the prospect of release. But Walkden watched him from a distance, and seemed to gloat over the new scheme of vengeance which he had in store for this hapless family. Indeed, the blow came on a day when Alexander had declared to me that he had not felt his heart so light for a long, long time. A detainer was lodged against him at the gate—a detainer for a thousand pounds! The fact was that a mistake had been committed in Alexander's schedule, and an item to that extent omitted. The judgment of the Court was therefore void and null in respect to a debt not inserted in the schedule; for such is the atrocious law, made on purpose to persecute those unfortunate debtors who do not come within the meaning of the Acts which enable traders to apply to the Bankruptcy Court. The way that I heard first of the detainer being lodged at Walkden's suit was in this wise:—A char-woman came to my room, saying that Mrs. Craddock, who appeared to be in great distress of mind, wished to see me immediately. I hurried to the Poor-Side, a misgiving preparing my mind to receive intelligence of farther persecution on the part of the fiend Walkden. On entering the Craddock's chamber, I found Alexander lying almost senseless on the bed, deep and prolonged gaspings alone denoting that he was alive. Lucy was on her knees, imploring him not to give way to despair; and the children were crying piteously, although they were too young to understand the nature of the misfortune which had fallen on their parents' heads. I strove to awaken my unhappy friend to the necessity of enduring this new affliction with courage; and in a short time my representations, joined to Lucy's prayers and entreaties, succeeded to some little extent. 'You must petition the Insolvents' Court again,' I said; 'and you are sure of having no farther remand. In six weeks you will be free.'—'But the means—the means to pass this ordeal a second time!' he exclaimed almost frantically.—'The Marshal has some charitable funds at his disposal,' I observed; 'and I will instantly wait upon him, and present the whole circumstances of the case.'—Alexander was in that feverish state of excitement which cannot endure suspense when any gleam of hope is afforded in the midst of despair; and he urged me to lose no time in seeing the Marshal. As I quitted the room, Lucy pressed my hand in a manner expressive of deep emotion, as she murmured in a low tone, 'You are our only friend!'

"Within ten minutes I was seated in the Marshal's private office, explaining the nature of my business. I unreservedly and frankly revealed to him Alexander Craddock's whole history; and you may be sure that I did not forget to dwell upon the admirable conduct of Lucy. The Marshal is a humane man, although nothing more than a superior kind of gaoler; and he listened to me with great interest. When I had concluded my narrative, which was rather long, he said, 'Mr. Prout, I will lose no time in calling myself upon Mr. Walkden, whom I know well by name, and whose character has certainly appeared to me this day in a new light. I am well aware that he is harsh and severe; but I do not think him capable of keeping this man in prison under all the circumstances which you have detailed to me. I will see him, and endeavour to excite his compassion by unfolding to him all the particulars of Craddock's history, as you have now related them to me. If he should persist in retaining him in gaol, I will then from my own pocket advance the necessary funds to enable your poor friend to petition the Court again. In the meantime give Craddock this guinea.'—I returned my warmest thanks to the Marshal for his goodness, and was hurrying back to the Craddocks with the money and the hopeful intelligence I had in store for them, when, as I passed through the upper lobby, my attention was directed to a new prisoner who had just arrived; for on the turnkey asking him his name, he replied—SCUDIMORE! A moment's scrutiny of the man convinced me that he was the same who had plundered Craddock, a description of his personal appearance having been frequently given to me by Alexander. I was sorry to find that he had become an inmate of the same place as the individual whom he had so deeply injured, and whose excited feelings I feared might lead him to some act of violence towards the villain. Well aware that Alexander could not be long before he must inevitably learn the fact of Scudimore's arrest, I resolved to mention it to him without delay, so as to prepare him to meet his enemy within the precincts of the Bench. I, however, communicated my good news first; and Lucy was overjoyed when she learnt that the Marshal had resolved to interest himself in her husband's behalf. But Alexander's manner suddenly became so strange—so unaccountably sombre and gloomy—and so menacingly mysterious, when I revealed to him the circumstance of Scudimore's presence in the prison, that both Lucy and myself grew terribly alarmed. We implored him not to notice Scudimore even when they should meet; but he gave no reply. I, however, whispered to Lucy my hopes that the Marshal would succeed in inducing Walkden to liberate her husband at once; and thereby remove her husband from the vicinity of the scoundrel who had ruined him. I also resolved to be as much with Alexander as possible; and I was delighted to find that he showed no inclination to leave his room for the purpose of taking his usual walk up and down the back of the prison-building.

"In the course of a couple of hours the Marshal sent me in word that he had not succeeded in finding Mr. Walkden at his office, but had made an appointment with the head-clerk to call again in the evening, when the result of his interview with the lawyer should be immediately communicated to me, even if the gates were closed. I therefore saw that the Marshal was in earnest in carrying out the business he had taken in hand; and Lucy was inspired with the same strong hopes that I entertained. But Alexander received the Marshal's message with an apathetic coldness which filled me with alarm; and it was evident that his mind brooded over other affairs, which I could not help thinking were connected with the arrival of Scudimore at the Bench. I was, however, glad to observe that Lucy did not participate in my fears to the same extent as she did in my hopes: poor creature! the thought of seeing her husband soon free was the absorbing sentiment in her mind! I remained with the Craddocks on that eventful day up to almost nine o'clock, when a letter which I received by the last post compelled me to go to my room for a few minutes to look out a few papers connected with my own case, and which my attorney required the first thing in the morning. I assured Lucy that I would return as soon as possible, the promised intelligence from the Marshal being now every moment expected by us.

"And now I come to a frightful portion of my sad tale. I had been about five minutes in my room, and had just sealed up the packet which was to be given to a messenger that night to deliver early next day to my solicitor, when Lucy rushed in without knocking. She fell exhausted upon the floor; and it was some moments before she could articulate a word. I was cruelly alarmed; and my hand trembled so as I poured her out some water that I could scarcely hold the glass. At length I learnt that Alexander had suddenly started from his chair, a minute after I left him, and seizing a knife, had rushed from the room. Before Lucy could reach the bottom of the stairs, he had disappeared; and, in a state bordering on distraction, she had naturally flown to me. While she was gasping forth the few words which thus made me acquainted with the cause of her visit, cries of horror suddenly burst from the parade-ground and struck upon our ears. I cannot at this moment remember what we thought, or what we said—no, nor how we got down the stairs: the next incident that I _do_ recollect, after hearing those appalling cries, was finding myself elbowing my way through a group of prisoners assembled on the parade; and then, by the moonlight, what a spectacle met my eyes! A man was lying on the ground, weltering in his blood; and another was passive and motionless in the grasp of three or four prisoners. The former was Scudimore: the latter was Alexander Craddock. Then female shrieks of anguish rent the air; and Lucy threw herself wildly into her husband's arms, exclaiming in a tone so piercing that it still rings in my ears—'You did not do it, Alexander! Oh! no—you could not—you would not! Tell me—I conjure you,—tell me that you did not do it!'

"Almost at the same moment a cry was raised of—'The Marshall'—and immediately afterwards that gentleman came up to the spot, accompanied by _another individual_, whom, as the moonlight fell upon his countenance, I instantly recognised to be Walkden. And that countenance—how was it changed! No longer cold and implacable, every feature bore the imprint of ineffable anguish and black despair. Then, when in a few hurried words, the assassination of Scudimore was communicated by the bye-standers to the Marshal and Walkden, and Alexander Craddock was mentioned as the murderer, a scene of the most wildly exciting interest ensued. For Walkden sprang towards the guilty—unhappy young man, and throwing his arms frantically around him,—poor Lucy shrinking back at his appearance,—exclaimed, 'My son!—my dear, and long-lost son! Pardon me—pardon me—I am the cause of all this—Oh! my God! how frightfully am I punished!'—and the wretched Walkden fell heavily upon the ground, overpowered—stunned—crushed by emotions too awful to be even conceived!

"I must here pause for a few moments to give a word or two of necessary explanation. The Marshal had found Mr. Walkden at his office in the evening, and had begged him to grant Alexander's release. But the miscreant was inexorable, alleging that he had received at the prisoner's hands insults of a nature which rendered mercy impossible. The Marshal, hoping to touch the man's heart by a recital of all the interesting circumstances of Alexander's life, began to tell his story; but scarcely had he explained how Alexander had been found by the late Mr. Craddock in the neighbourhood of Doctors' Commons, when Walkden's whole manner suddenly underwent an appalling change: he turned ghastly pale—trembled like an aspen-leaf—and then, in another minute, covered his face with his hands, exclaiming in a tone of the deepest anguish, '_Merciful God! it is my own son whom I have plundered and persecuted thus vilely! Oh! wretch that I am—miscreant, demon that I have been!_'—The Marshal was naturally overwhelmed with astonishment at these terrific self-accusations, which nevertheless appeared to be too well founded; for it was indeed the only child of the miserable lawyer who had been lost by a neglectful servant years ago in the neighbourhood of Doctors' Commons; and the sudden death of the beadle happening the very next day, had destroyed the only clue to the infant. Mrs. Walkden died of a broken heart; and it was most probably these misfortunes which, acting upon a morbid mind, rendered the attorney the harsh, severe, merciless man which he had so effectually proved himself to be.

"And what miseries had he piled up, to fall on his own head! He had ruined his son—rendered him a murderer—and also endeavoured to seduce that son's wife. Oh! it was a fearful scene, which took place on the parade-ground on that eventful evening. Scudimore lay a corpse at the feet of the man whom he had injured; and senseless by the side of the corpse, fell Walkden who had made Scudimore his instrument and accomplice in the iniquitous transaction which paved the way for this accumulation of horrors. Alexander understood nothing that took place. He saw it all—but comprehended it not. His reason had fled; and it is most probable that he was already a maniac when he rushed from his room armed with the fatal knife—and perhaps even when I observed the strange change come over him on his learning from my lips that Scudimore was an inmate of the Bench. As for Lucy—poor, crushed, heart-broken Lucy—she had fainted when Walkden proclaimed himself her husband's _father_! But I must hasten and bring my story to a conclusion. The Marshal speedily gave the orders necessary under the circumstances which had occurred; and, on Lucy being recovered from her swoon, she found that she had not been the prey of a hideous dream, as she at first supposed—but that her husband had been taken from her, and lodged in the strong-room—a maniac and a murderer! Oh! what a heart-rending duty it was for me to implore her to take courage for her children's sake! Walkden, who had in the meantime been restored to his senses, begged her to make his house her home in future, and look on him as a father;—but she shrieked forth a negative in so wild a tone and accompanied by such a shudder, that the wretched man could not be otherwise than deeply convinced how ineffable was the abhorrence that she entertained for him. The Marshal kindly took charge of the stricken woman and her young children; and the corpse of Scudimore was conveyed to a room there to await the attendance of the Coroner on the following day.

"But little more remains to be told. During the night that followed the deplorable events which I have just related, Alexander Craddock grew furious with excitement, and became raving mad. A brain-fever supervened; and in less than twelve hours from the moment when his hand avenged his wrongs on the villain Scudimore, he himself was no longer a denizen of this world! Ten days afterwards the Marshal received a letter from Walkden, which he subsequently showed to me, and the contents of which ran thus as nearly as I can recollect them:—'_I am about to quit England, and shall never be again heard of by one who has to much reason to shudder at the mere mention of my name. I allude to my deeply-injured daughter-in-law. My share of the ten thousand pounds, of which Scudimore plundered her husband, was precisely one half. This amount, with compound interest, I have placed in the funds in her name; and I implore her to forgive a man who is crushed and heart-broken, and who loathes himself!_'—Lucy, who had only for her children's sake been able to sustain anything like the adequate amount of courage necessary to support her afflictions, was somewhat solaced—if solace there could be in the midst of such bitter, bitter woe—by the certainty that those children were now secure against want. She accordingly removed with them into a small but comfortable dwelling near Norwood—but not before she had called on me, to express all her gratitude for the kindnesses which I had been enabled to show the family. She moreover endeavoured to compel me to receive a sum of money, as she said in repayment for the amounts I had at various times lent them; but that sum was a hundred times greater than any I had ever been able to assist them with. I would not receive a fraction; and I wept on parting with her, as if she had been my own daughter. During the year which she survived the loss of her husband—for she only _did_ survive it a year—she came frequently to visit me, always accompanied by her children; and on every occasion she brought me some touching and delicate memorial of her esteem. But her health had been undermined by the long vigils—the deep anxieties—the corroding cares—the serious toils—and the frightful shocks, which had characterised her existence in this accursed prison; and she died in the arms of an affectionate female friend, who dwelt in her neighbourhood, and whose bosom her misfortunes had deeply touched. This friend promised to be a second mother to the poor children; and she has fulfilled her word. Two respectable gentlemen accepted the guardianship of the orphans, so far as their pecuniary interests are concerned; and those orphans will be rich when they become of age,—for Walkden died a short time ago, leaving them all his fortune. Poor Lucy sleeps in the same grave with her husband; and thus ends my TALE OF SORROW."

The old man wiped away the tears from his eyes: and Frank Curtis was not only deeply interested in the narrative which he had just heard, but even affected by its lamentable details, on which he was about to make some remark, when, happening to glance from the window, he espied the captain on the parade staring about him in all possible directions. Curtis therefore took leave of Mr. Prout, after thanking him for the recital of the melancholy tale, and hastened to join his friend.

Captain O'Blunderbuss had no good news to relate. The officers in possession in Baker Street had positively refused to allow Mrs. Curtis to take any thing, beyond wearing apparel, away with her; and the excellent lady had accordingly moved, with her two trunks and her five children, to a lodging in Belvidere Place.

The captain had likewise been unsuccessful in his visit to Sir Christopher Blunt. He had seen the knight, it is true; but neither menaces nor coaxings had proved potent enough to induce that gentleman to draw forth his purse or sign his autograph to a cheque.

"What the devil, then, must I do?" demanded Frank Curtis, shuddering as he thought of the Poor-Side.

"Be Jasus! and go dacently and genteelly through the Insolvents' Court," exclaimed the captain; "and I'll skin the Commissioners alive if they dar-r to turn you back, my frind!"

"I really think there is no other alternative left but to petition the Court," observed Frank Curtis; "and therefore I'll make up my mind at once to do so."