"Ay--indeed! And I think he said it was a cruel business--nay, I'm _sure_ he did; and that, as for him, he washed his hands on 't!" Mr.

Aubrey seemed confounded.

"I don't somehow think him and his partners are on the best of terms together--but that's no business o' mine, you know, sir! And now, sir, excuse me, but we must be jogging."

"But, my friend, is there really no way," inquired Mr. Aubrey, with manifest perturbation, "by which I can delay accompanying you for a few hours"----

"Oh can't, sir--_un_possible!"

"You can remain in possession here--I will be in your custody--I have a little plate, books, and furniture, which would surely stand sufficient security"----

"It 's no use, sir; go you must--and that without much longer shilly-shallying. It's no use!"

Aubrey seemed for a moment overpowered by his emotions.

"I fear, myself, that there is no alternative," said he; "but it will almost break the hearts of those ladies--one of whom is my wife"----His voice faltered.

"You take my advice, sir! Let my man start off for a coach--you have a shirt or two put up, and an amusing book--or a bit of a cribbage-board, or a pack of cards, if they're at hand--and give 'em the slip; if you'll believe me, sir, it 's much the best way; and when you're once out o'

the house, they'll come to, and make up their minds to it--never fear 'em."

"Send, then, for a coach--delay, I see, is worse than useless," said he, hastily, hearing steps approaching the study door, which was thrust open, and Mrs. Aubrey and Miss Aubrey entered, unable any longer to endure his absence--and as if fearful lest, in mercy to them, he should be contriving to leave them secretly. Grab, having despatched his follower for a coach, at Mr. Aubrey's earnest request to be left alone for a few minutes, withdrew--but first cast a keen scrutinizing eye at the window--and then the chimney--and then, having closed the door, stood outside, in a position which commanded both door and window.

"Now, my own Agnes! my sweet Kate!" commenced Aubrey, in a low, earnest tone, having bolted the door to secure themselves from interruption during the few precious moments which remained to them before the arrival of the coach--"I must, within a very few minutes, leave you!

Remember--remember, loves!--I am unfortunate, but, I am not disgraced!--I look on this as a dispensation of Providence--an infinitely wise, and good Providence; let us all learn submission, and resignation! Whether or not we are really the victims of treachery and hypocrisy, I am unable at present to tell; but let us learn to bear this last crowning indignity with the fort.i.tude of Christians!--relying on it, that G.o.d will overrule the most trying and disastrous events for our eventual good! Kneel down! Let us bow before the throne of Heaven, and supplicate its blessing and support, in this our greatest extremity!" He said this calmly; but his face was deadly pale, and his voice faltered--while they clung round him and heaved convulsive sobs, as, half unconsciously, they sank on their knees with him. Then they rose--and certainly a gracious Providence had not listened in vain to the earnest, heartfelt cries uttered by those persecuted and heart-broken beings; for they felt a sense of composure stealing over their troubled bosoms--as if they had seen for a moment a bright light glancing through the gloom of their sorrows. Yet poor nature was wrung--wrung indeed! Mr. Aubrey proceeded to make some little preparations for his departure--putting a five-pound note into his pocket--and leaving but little more behind him; and the servant being summoned into the room, was despatched to put up a change of linen for him. He then implored and conjured them, as they loved him, to struggle against their feelings;--and to rely upon his pledge to send them, within two hours at the furthest, intelligence of his movements--a.s.suring them of his confident belief, that in less than twenty-four hours he should have returned to them. While he was speaking in this strain, Mrs. Aubrey suddenly quitted the room, and after a moment's absence returned, her pallid, agitated countenance overspread with a wild smile of delight, as she exclaimed breathlessly--"There, love! Dearest Charles! He says there is no harm in the world in my going with you in the coach--and, indeed, we may have rooms to ourselves!"

"My sweet Agnes"----

"I will--I _will_ go with you, Charles! Nothing shall prevent me--even if I leave you at the door of the place you are going to!" It was in vain for Mr. Aubrey to protest--as he did, both earnestly and vehemently;--her impa.s.sioned importunities were irresistible, and she rushed breathlessly up-stairs to prepare her dress to accompany him on his brief but melancholy journey. Within a very few minutes she had returned, just as the sound of the coach-wheels approaching the door was heard. Mr. Aubrey and Kate perceived the dangerous excitement under which she was laboring, and dreaded its effects: yet what could be done?

He could not prolong his stay--and it would be infinitely more dangerous to leave her behind, now that she had set her heart upon accompanying him, than to permit her to do so. She carried down little Agnes in her arms--and had been almost suffocating her and Charles, who walked after her, with kisses and convulsive embraces. Both the children were crying bitterly; and as soon as Mrs. Aubrey had reached the parlor door, and heard the coach-steps letting down, she fell into violent hysterics.

"I'll tell you what, sir," whispered Grab, as he stood close beside Mr.

Aubrey, who was supporting Mrs. Aubrey--"it wouldn't be amiss if I was to say you should come along with me at once, while this poor lady's insensible--and then when she 'd have come to herself, and know'd you was _gone_, and no mistake--why--she'd in course think no more of it "----

"Oh! for G.o.d's sake--for G.o.d's sake! Remember your promise!" cried Aubrey, and in a voice which nearly reached the officer's heart: as it was, he simply shrugged his shoulders, and awaited the issue with no little impatience, but in silence. 'T was in the midst of this heart-rending scene, which ensued during the next half-hour, that Kate displayed the strength of character which so remarkably distinguished her; and, completely mastering her own agitated feelings, she essentially contributed towards Mrs. Aubrey's restoration to a state which would admit of her at length setting off. The children had been removed--Mr. Aubrey having bid them an agonizing adieu; for he knew not what accident or contrivance might occur to prevent his return to them--and after embracing his weeping sister, he supported Mrs. Aubrey, Grab closely following them, into the coach. All three having got in, "Jem," as he was called, shut up the door, jumped up on to the coach-box, and then they drove away. Poor Mrs. Aubrey, on taking her seat, drew from before her agitated yet beautiful countenance the long dark veil which she had drawn down while pa.s.sing from the house into the coach, and gazed at Mr. Aubrey with such an expression of mingled tenderness and agony, as was almost sufficient to have broken even the stony heart of Grab. She also held her husband's hand convulsively grasped within her own--as though fearful of their being even yet violently separated from each other. As they went along, in answer to Aubrey's anxious inquiries concerning the nature of the scenes which awaited him, Mr. Grab told him that his--Grab's--lock-up was in Chancery-Lane, and would be found as comfortable a place as need be. He informed his prisoner, further, that he might have his choice,--whether to occupy a private room, with a bedroom opening into it--or go into the public room, where would be also some dozen other debtors,--and in which case, of course, Mrs. Aubrey must return home alone. Mr. Aubrey inquired what would be the expense of the private room, and was horrified on hearing--two guineas and a half a-day, paid in advance!--exclusive of board and attendance, which doubtless would be charged for on a commensurate scale. The prisoner and his wife gazed at each other in silence, and felt sick at heart.

"The smallest room--at the very top of the house--would suffice for both a sitting-room and bedroom," said Aubrey--"and we do not care a straw for furniture"----

"The room I told you of, or the public room, is all I've to offer you,"

replied Grab, somewhat doggedly--"and you needn't cry out before you're hurt; for it may be your friends will bail you out before the night--before much harm's done!" His wretched companions continued silent for the remainder of the journey, till the coach drew up opposite the door of the house of which they had been speaking. It was about half-way up Chancery-Lane, on the right-hand side as you entered from the Strand. 'T was a small, narrow, dingy-looking house, at the corner of a miserable court. The solitary window, level with the door, was strongly secured within by thick perpendicular iron bars. The outer door, at the top of a flight of about a dozen well-worn steps, stood open, leaving exposed to view an inner door, at about a couple of yards'

distance from the outer one; and on this inner door was a bra.s.s plate bearing the terrifying name--

"G R A B."

The upper part of the door was of gla.s.s, and secured on the inside, like the window, by strong iron bars. Aubrey's soul sank within him as his eye took in these various points of the dismal building--the very first which he had ever been _compelled to enter_. The follower, immediately on the coach drawing up, jumped down, and running up the steps of the house, knocked at the inner door, and hurrying back, opened the coach-door, and let down the steps.

"Now, Jarvey--what's the damage?" inquired Grab, before any of them got out.

"Six shillings, your honor."

"You must tip, sir," quoth Grab to Mr. Aubrey--who thereupon counted out all the silver he had except one solitary sixpence, and they descended, followed up the steps of the house closely by Grab. Their hearts failed them, as they heard the sound of heavy jingling keys from within opening the door; and the next moment they stood within a short, narrow, and dark pa.s.sage--the sallow ill-looking man who had opened the door instantly closing, barring, and locking it upon them.

"This here's the public room," quoth Grab, with the confident air of a man who feels in his own house; and, half opening a door on his left--they caught a glimpse of a number of men--some smoking; others sitting with their feet on the table, reading the newspapers; others playing at cards; and almost all of them drinking, and either laughing, talking, or singing.

"Now, sir--does this _here_ suit your fancy?" inquired Grab, rather sharply. Mr. Aubrey felt his wife leaning heavily on his arm. "Mercy! I shall faint! I feel choked!"--she whispered.

"Show us instantly upstairs, to your private room--cost what it may,"

said Mr. Aubrey, hastily.

"It's only fair to tell you, sir, you pay in advance--and for the whole day, though you should be out again in a quarter of an hour's time--it's the rule of the house."

"Show us upstairs, sir, without delay," said Mr. Aubrey, peremptorily.

"Jemmy--show 'em up!" exclaimed Grab, briskly--on which Jem went forward, followed by Mr. Aubrey, almost entirely supporting Mrs.

Aubrey--who appeared very faint--Grab bringing up the rear--up the narrow and angular staircase. This led them into a tolerably well-furnished room; and Mrs. Aubrey, on entering it, sank exhausted on the sofa. Here, again, the two windows were strongly secured with iron bars, which gave a peculiarly miserable appearance to the room. The unhappy couple gazed around them for a moment, in silence.

"Beg your pardon, sir," said Grab, entering the room, "but must trouble you for _two, twelve, six_; always pay in advance, as I told you a-coming."

Aubrey involuntarily shuddering, took out his pocket-book--Mrs. Aubrey bursting into tears--and handed to Grab the only money he had--his five-pound note, requesting change.

"The lady would, perhaps, like a gla.s.s of negus?" inquired Grab.

"Certainly--bring up immediately a gla.s.s of cold sherry and water,"

replied Aubrey.

"That will be just _two, five, six_ to bring back--shall have it directly, sir--change and all. Here's your bedroom, sir," he added--opening a small door opposite the window--and then withdrew by that through which they had entered. The moment that they were left alone, Aubrey folded his arms tenderly around his wife, and kissed her cold pale cheek; and then helped her to remove her bonnet, which, with its heavy black veil, evidently oppressed her. Her rich dark hair fell disordered over her tippet; and with her flushed cheek and restless eye, would have given the beholder a vivid picture of beauty and virtue in distress.

"Do promise me, Charles!" said she, looking fondly at him, "that I may go with you wherever they will allow you to take me!"

"I trust, Agnes, that I shall be released before long. This is really a comfortable room, considering!" he added, evading her question.

"If only Kate and the children were here," she replied tremulously.

"Poor things! I wonder what they are doing just now--Kate will break her heart, poor girl, if we don't return soon!"

"Never fear, Agnes. But let us look what kind of a bedroom they have given us. I hope we shall have no occasion, however, to occupy it. Come, let us see!"

'T was very small and close, to be sure, and had but one narrow window, secured, like all the others, by strong iron bars. It overlooked a little flagged yard, about fourteen feet square, surrounded on all sides by high walls, portions of adjoining houses. It was here that the prisoners "_took the air_," and their escape was effectually prevented by close and strong bars of iron pa.s.sing from side to side, at about ten feet distance from the ground. They looked down, and beheld two or three men sitting and standing beneath, who looked more like animals caged in a menagerie, than human beings. 'T was to Aubrey a sickening sight; and turning from the window, they both re-entered the front room, as Grab returned with the sherry and water, and the change, which he told down on the table. He then asked what they would like to have for dinner--cutlets, steaks, or chops--as he wished to know before Mrs. Grab went out "to order the house dinner." They seemed, however, to loathe the idea of eating, not a little to the annoyance of their truly hospitable host; Aubrey earnestly begging him to send off a message instantly, with his card, to Mr. Runnington.

"A couple of shillings for the man, sir," said Grab; and, having received it, withdrew, leaving Mr. and Mrs. Aubrey to themselves for nearly an hour and a half; at the end of which period, their hearts leaped for joy to see Mr. Runnington enter the room, with a countenance full of concern and sympathy.

"Well, but you shall not be much longer in this hateful hole, at any rate," said he, after some half-hour's anxious conversation with them; and ringing the bell, directed the man to send Grab up-stairs, and to fetch pen, ink, and paper. In a few minutes Grab appeared. "You've no objection, I suppose, Grab, to discharge Mr. Aubrey on my undertaking?"

"In course not, sir," replied Grab, readily; but he was not a little disappointed at so abrupt a close to his exactions. Mr. Runnington sat down and began to write. "You had better send off to the office, and see if there's anything else there," he added, (meaning that Grab should search, as he was bound to do, for any other writs against Mr. Aubrey which might be lodged with the sheriff, before discharging his prisoner out of custody.)

"You don't apprehend anything _there_, do you?" inquired Mr. Runnington, rather seriously, without taking his eye from the paper on which he was writing.

"Heaven only knows! But I _think_ not," replied Aubrey.

The following was the undertaking given by Mr. Runnington, and which operated as an instant release of his oppressed and truly persecuted client:--