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Miss Mackenzie

<h3>CHAPTER XXIV</h3> <h3>The Little Story of the Lion and the Lamb  </h3> During those three months of October, November, and December, Mr Maguire was certainly not idle. He had, by means of pertinacious inquiry, learned a good deal about Miss Mackenzie; indeed, he had learned most of the facts which the reader knows, though not quite all of them. He had seen Jonathan Ball's will, and he had seen Walter Mackenzie's will. He had ascertained, through Miss Colza, that John Ball now claimed the property by some deed said to have been executed by Jonathan Ball previous to the execution of his will; and he had also learned, from Miss Mackenzie's own lips, in Lady Ball's presence, that she had engaged herself to marry the man who was thus claiming her property. Why should Mr Ball want to marry her,—who would in such a case be penniless,—but that he felt himself compelled in that way to quell all further inquiry into the thing that he was doing? And why should she desire to marry him, but that in this way she might, as it were, go with her own property, and not lose the value of it herself when compelled to surrender it to her cousin? That she would have given herself, with all her property, to him,—Maguire,—a few months ago, Mr Maguire felt fully convinced, and, as I have said before, had some ground for such conviction. He had learned also from Miss Colza, that Miss Mackenzie had certainly quarrelled with Lady Ball, and that she had, so Miss Colza believed, been turned out of the house at the Cedars. Whether Mr Ball had or had not abandoned his matrimonial prospects, Miss Colza could not quite determine. Having made up her mind to hate Miss Mackenzie, and therefore, as was natural, thinking that no gentleman could really like such "a poor dowdy creature," she rather thought that he had abandoned his matrimonial prospects. Mr Maguire had thus learned much on the subject; but he had not learned this:—that John Ball was honest throughout in the matter, and that the lawyers employed in it were honest also. And now, having got together all this information, and he himself being in a somewhat precarious condition as to his own affairs, Mr Maguire resolved upon using his information boldly. He had a not incorrect idea of the fitness of things, and did not fail to tell himself that were he at that moment in possession of those clerical advantages which his labours in the vineyard should have earned for him, he would not have run the risk which he must undoubtedly incur by engaging himself in this matter. Had he a full church at Littlebath depending on him, had Mr Stumfold's chance and Mr Stumfold's success been his, had he still even been an adherent of the Stumfoldian fold, he would have paused before he rushed to the public with an account of Miss Mackenzie's grievance. But as matters stood with him, looking round upon his own horizon, he did not see that he had any course before him more likely to lead to good pecuniary results, than this. The reader has been told how Mr Maguire went to Arundel Street, and how he was there received. But that reception did not at all daunt his courage. It showed him that the lady was still under the Ball influence, and that his ally, Miss Colza, was probably wrong in supposing that the Ball marriage was altogether off. But this only made him the more determined to undermine that influence, and to prevent that marriage. If he could once succeed in convincing the lady that her best chance of regaining her fortune lay in his assistance, or if he could even convince her that his interference must result, either with or without her good wishes, in dividing her altogether from the Ball alliance, then she would be almost compelled to throw herself into his arms. That she was violently in love with him he did not suppose, nor did he think it at all more probable that she should be violently in love with her cousin. He put her down in his own mind as one of those weak, good women, who can bring themselves easily to love any man, and who are sure to make useful wives, because they understand so thoroughly the nature of obedience. If he could secure for her her fortune, and could divide her from John Ball, he had but little doubt that she would come to him, in spite of the manner in which she had refused to receive him in Arundel Street. Having considered all this, after the mode of thinking which I have attempted to describe, he went to work with such weapons as were readiest to his hands. As a first step, he wrote boldly to John Ball. In this letter he reasserted the statement he had made to Lady Ball as to Miss Mackenzie's engagement to himself, and added some circumstances which he had not mentioned to Lady Ball. He said, that having become engaged to that lady, he had, in consequence, given up his curacy at Littlebath, and otherwise so disarranged his circumstances, as to make it imperative upon him to take the steps which he was now taking. He had come up to London, expecting to find her anxious to receive him in Gower Street, and had then discovered that she had been taken away to the Cedars. He could not, he said, give any adequate description of his surprise, when, on arriving there, he heard from the mouth of his own Margaret that she was now engaged to her cousin. But if his surprise then had been great and terrible, how much greater and more terrible must it have been when, step by step, the story of that claim upon her fortune revealed itself to him! He pledged himself, in his letter, as a gentleman and as a Christian minister, to see the matter out. He would not allow Miss Mackenzie to be despoiled of her fortune and her hand,—both of which he had a right to regard as his own,—without making known to the public a transaction which he regarded as nefarious. Then there was a good deal of eloquent indignation the nature and purport of which the reader will probably understand. Mr Ball did not at all like this letter. He had that strong feeling of disinclination to be brought before the public with reference to his private affairs, which is common to all Englishmen; and he specially had a dislike to this, seeing that there would be a question not only as to money, but also as to love. A gentleman does not like to be accused of a dishonest attempt to possess himself of a lady's property; but, at the age of fifty, even that is almost better than one which charges him with such attempt against a lady's heart. He knew that he was not dishonest, and therefore could endure the first. He was not quite sure that he was not, or might not become, ridiculous, and therefore feared the latter very greatly. He could not ignore the letter, and there was nothing for it but to show it to his lawyer. Unfortunately, he had told this lawyer, on the very day of Mr Maguire's visit to the Cedars, that all was to be made smooth by his marriage with Miss Mackenzie; and now, with much misery and many inward groanings, he had to explain all this story of Mr Maguire. It was the more painful in that he had to admit that an offer had been made to the lady by the clergyman, and had not been rejected. "You don't think there was more than that?" asked the lawyer, having paved the way for his question with sundry apologetic flourishes. "I am sure there was not," said John Ball. "She is as true as the Gospel, and he is as false as the devil." "Oh, yes," said the lawyer; "there's no doubt about his falsehood. He's one of those fellows for whom nothing is too dirty. Clergymen are like women. As long as they're pure, they're a long sight purer than other men; but when they fall, they sink deeper." "You needn't be afraid of taking her word," said John Ball. "If all women were as pure as she is, there wouldn't be much amiss with them." His eyes glittered as he spoke of her, and it was a pity that Margaret could not have heard him then, and seen him there. "You don't think she has been—just a little foolish, you know?" "I think she was very foolish in not bidding such a man to go about his business, at once. But she has not been more so than what she owns. She is as brave as she is good, and I don't think she would keep anything back." The result was that a letter was written by the lawyer to Mr Maguire, telling Mr Maguire that any further communication should be made to him; and also making a slight suggestion as to the pains and penalties which are incurred in the matter of a libel. Mr Maguire had dated his letter from Littlebath, and there the answer reached him. He had returned thither, having found that he could take no further immediate steps towards furthering his cause in London. And now, what steps should he take next? More than once he thought of putting his own case into the hands of a lawyer; but what was a lawyer to do for him? An action for breach of promise was open to him, but he had wit enough to feel that there was very little chance of success for him in that line. He might instruct a lawyer to look into Miss Mackenzie's affairs, and he thought it probable that he might find a lawyer to take such instructions. But there would be much expense in this, and, probably, no result. Advancing logically from one conclusion to another, he at last resolved that he must rush boldly into print, and lay the whole iniquity of the transaction open to the public. He believed—I think he did believe—that the woman was being wronged. Some particle of such belief he had, and fostering himself with this, he sat himself down, and wrote a leading article. Now there existed in Littlebath at this time a weekly periodical called the Christian Examiner, with which Mr Maguire had for some time had dealings. He had written for the paper, taking an earnest part in local religious subjects; and the paper, in return, had very frequently spoken highly of Mr Maguire's eloquence, and of Mr Maguire's energy. There had been a give and take in this, which all people understand who are conversant with the provincial, or perhaps I might add, with the metropolitan press of the country. The paper in question was not a wicked paper, nor were the gentlemen concerned in its publication intentionally scurrilous or malignant; but it was subject to those great temptations which beset all class newspapers of the kind, and to avoid which seems to be almost more difficult, in handling religious subjects, than in handling any other. The editor of a Christian Examiner, if, as is probable, he have, of his own, very strong and one-sided religious convictions, will think that those who differ from him are in a perilous way, and so thinking, will feel himself bound to tell them so. The man who advocates one line of railway instead of another, or one prime minister as being superior to all others, does not regard his opponents as being fatally wrong,—wrong for this world and for the next,—and he can restrain himself. But how is a newspaper writer to restrain himself when his opponent is incurring everlasting punishment, or, worse still, carrying away others to a similar doom, in that they read, and perhaps even purchase, that which the lost one has written? In this way the contents of religious newspapers are apt to be personal; and heavy, biting, scorching attacks, become the natural vehicle of Christian Examiners. Mr Maguire sat down and wrote his leading article, which on the following Saturday appeared in all the glory of large type. The article shall not be repeated here at length, because it contained sundry quotations from Holy Writ which may as well be omitted, but the purport of it shall be explained. It commenced with a dissertation against an undue love of wealth,—the auri sacra fames, as the writer called it; and described with powerful unction the terrible straits into which, when indulged, it led the vile, wicked, ugly, hideous, loathsome, devilish human heart. Then there was an eloquent passage referring to worms and dust and grass, and a quotation respecting treasures both corruptible and incorruptible. Not at once, but with crafty gradations, the author sloped away to the point of his subject. How fearful was it to watch the way in which the strong, wicked ones,—the roaring lions of the earth, beguiled the ignorance of the innocent, and led lonely lambs into their slaughter-houses. All this, much amplified, made up half the article; and then, after the manner of a pleasant relater of anecdotes, the clerical story-teller began his little tale. When, however, he came to the absolute writing of the tale, he found it to be prudent for the present to omit the names of his hero and heroine—to omit, indeed, the names of all the persons concerned. He had first intended boldly to dare it all, and perhaps would yet have done so had he been quite sure of his editor. But his editor he found might object to these direct personalities at the first sound of the trumpet, unless the communication were made in the guise of a letter, with Mr Maguire's name at the end of it. After a while the editor might become hot in the fight himself, and then the names could be blazoned forth. And there existed some chance,—some small chance,—that the robber-lion, John Ball, might be induced to drop his lamb from his mouth when he heard this premonitory blast, and then the lion's prey might be picked up by—"the bold hunter," Mr Maguire would probably have said, had he been called upon to finish the sentence himself; anyone else might, perhaps, say, by the jackal. The little story was told, therefore, without the mention of any names. Mr Maguire had read other little stories told in another way in other newspapers, of greater weight, no doubt, than the Littlebath Christian Examiner, and had thought that he could wield a thunderbolt as well as any other Jupiter; but in wielding thunderbolts, as in all other operations of skill, a man must first try his 'prentice hand with some reticence; and thus he reconciled himself to prudence, not without some pangs of conscience which accused him inwardly of cowardice. "Not long ago there was a lady in this town, loved and respected by all who knew her." Thus he began, and then gave a not altogether inaccurate statement of the whole affair, dropping, of course, his own share in the concern, and accusing the vile, wicked, hideous, loathsome human heart of the devouring lion, who lived some miles to the west end of London, of a brutal desire and a hellish scheme to swallow up the inheritance of the innocent, loved, and respected lamb, in spite of the closest ties of consanguinity between them. And then he went on to tell how, with a base desire of covering up from the eyes of an indignant public his bestial greediness in having made this dishonest meal, the lion had proposed to himself the plan of marrying the lamb! It was a pity that Maguire had not learned—that Miss Colza had not been able to tell him—that the lion had once before expressed his wish to take the lamb for his wife. Had he known that, what a picture he would have drawn of the disappointed vindictive king of the forest, as lying in his lair at Twickenham he meditated his foul revenge! This unfortunately was unknown to Mr Maguire and unsuspected by him. But the article did not end here. The indignant writer of it went on to say that he had buckled on his armour in support of the lamb, and that he was ready to meet the lion either in the forest or in any social circle; either in the courts of law or before any Christian arbitrator. With loud trumpetings, he summoned the lion to appear and plead guilty, or to stand forward, if he dared, and declare himself innocent with his hand on his heart. If the lion could prove himself to be innocent the writer of that article offered him the right hand of fellowship, an offer which the lion would not, perhaps, regard as any strong inducement; but if the lion were not innocent—if, as the writer of that article was well aware was the case, the lion was basely, greedily, bestially guilty, then the writer of that article pledged himself to give the lion no peace till he had disgorged his prey, and till the lamb was free to come back, with all her property, to that Christian circle in Littlebath which had loved her so warmly and respected her so thoroughly. Such was the nature of the article, and the editor put it in. After all, what, in such matters, is an editor to do? Is it not his business to sell his paper? And if the editor of a Christian Examiner cannot trust the clergyman he has sat under, whom can he trust? Some risk an editor is obliged to run, or he will never sell his paper. There could be little doubt that such an article as this would be popular among the religious world of Littlebath, and that it would create a demand. He had his misgivings—had that poor editor. He did not feel quite sure of his lion and his lamb. He talked the matter over vehemently with Mr Maguire in the little room in which he occupied himself with his scissors and his paste; but ultimately the article was inserted. Who does not know that interval of triumph which warms a man's heart when he has delivered his blow, and the return blow has not been yet received? The blow has been so well struck that it must be successful, nay, may probably be death-dealing. So felt Mr Maguire when two dozen copies of the Christian Examiner were delivered at his lodgings on the Saturday morning. The article, though printed as a leading article, had been headed as a little story,—"The Lion and the Lamb,"—so that it might more readily attract attention. It read very nicely in print. It had all that religious unction which is so necessary for Christian Examiners, and with it that spice of devilry, so delicious to humanity that without it even Christian Examiners cannot be made to sell themselves. He was very busy with his two dozen damp copies before him,—two dozen which had been sent to him, by agreement, as the price of his workmanship. He made them up and directed them with his own hand. To the lion and the lamb he sent two copies, two to each. To Mr Slow he sent a copy, and another to Messrs Slow and Bideawhile, and a third to the other lawyer. He sent a copy to Lady Ball and one to Sir John. Another he sent to the old Mackenzie, baronet at Incharrow, and two more to the baronet's eldest son, and the baronet's eldest son's wife. A copy he sent to Mrs Tom Mackenzie, and a copy to Miss Colza; and a copy also he sent to Mrs Buggins. And he sent a copy to the Chairman of the Board at the Shadrach Fire Office, and another to the Chairman at the Abednego Life Office. A copy he sent to Mr Samuel Rubb, junior, and a copy to Messrs Rubb and Mackenzie. Out of his own pocket he supplied the postage stamps, and with his own hand he dropped the papers into the Littlebath post-office. Poor Miss Mackenzie, when she read the article, was stricken almost to the ground. How she did hate the man whose handwriting on the address she recognised at once! What should she do? In her agony she almost resolved that she would start at once for the Cedars and profess her willingness to go before all the magistrates in London and Littlebath, and swear that her cousin was no lion and that she was no lamb. At that moment her feelings towards the Christians and Christian Examiners of Littlebath were not the feelings of a Griselda. I think she could have spoken her mind freely had Mr Maguire come in her way. Then, when she saw Mrs Buggins's copy, her anger blazed up afresh, and her agony became more intense. The horrid man must have sent copies all over the world, or he would never have thought of sending a copy to Mrs Buggins! But she did not go to the Cedars. She reflected that when there she might probably find her cousin absent, and in such case she would hardly know how to address herself to her aunt. Mr Ball, too, might perhaps come to her, and for three days she patiently awaited his coming. On the evening of the third day there came to her, not Mr Ball, but a clerk from Mr Slow, the same clerk who had been with her before, and he made an appointment with her at Mr Slow's office on the following morning. She was to meet Mr Ball there, and also to meet Mr Ball's lawyer. Of course she consented to go, and of course she was on Mr Slow's staircase exactly at the time appointed. Of what she was thinking as she walked round Lincoln's Inn Fields to kill a quarter of an hour which she found herself to have on hand, we will not now inquire. She was shown at once into Mr Slow's room, and the first thing that met her eyes was a copy of that horrible Christian Examiner, lying on the table before him. She knew it instantly, and would have known it had she simply seen a corner of the printing. To her eyes and to her mind, no other printed paper had ever been so ugly and so vicious. But she saw that there was also another newspaper under the Christian Examiner. Mr Slow brought her to the fire, and gave her a chair, and was very courteous. In a few moments came the other lawyer, and with him came John Ball. Mr Slow opened the conference, all the details of which need not be given here. He first asked Miss Mackenzie whether she had seen that wicked libel. She, with much energy and, I may almost say, with virulence, declared that the horrid paper had been sent to her. She hoped that nobody suspected that she had known anything about it. In answer to this, they all assured her that she need not trouble herself on that head. Mr Slow then told her that a London paper had copied the whole story of the "Lion and the Lamb," expressing a hope that the lion would be exposed if there was any truth in it, and the writer would be exposed if there was none. "The writer was Mr Maguire, a clergyman," said Miss Mackenzie, with indignation. "We all know that," said Mr Slow, with a slight smile on his face. Then he went on reading the remarks of the London paper, which declared that the Littlebath Christian Examiner, having gone so far, must, of necessity, go further. The article was calculated to give the greatest pain to, no doubt, many persons; and the innocence or guilt of "the Lion," as poor John Ball was called, must be made manifest to the public. "And now, my dear Miss Mackenzie, I will tell you what we propose to do," said Mr Slow. He then explained that it was absolutely necessary that a question of law should be tried and settled in a court of law, between her and her cousin. When she protested against this, he endeavoured to explain to her that the cause would be an amicable cause, a simple reference, in short, to a legal tribunal. Of course, she did not understand this, and, of course, she still protested; but after a while, when she began to perceive that her protest was of no avail, she let that matter drop. The cause should be brought on as soon as possible, but could not be decided till late in the spring. She was told that she had better make no great change in her own manner of life till that time, and was again informed that she could have what money she wanted for her own maintenance. She refused to take any money: but when the reference was made to some proposed change in her life, she looked wistfully into her cousin's face. He, however, had nothing to say then, and kept his eyes intently fixed upon the carpet. Mr Slow then took up the Christian Examiner, and declared to her what was their intention with reference to that. A letter should be written from his house to the editor of the London newspaper, giving a plain statement of the case, with all the names, explaining that all the parties were acting in perfect concert, and that the matter was to be decided in the only way which could be regarded as satisfactory. In answer to this, Miss Mackenzie, almost in tears, pointed out how distressing would be the publicity thus given to her name "particularly"—she said, "particularly—" But she could not go on with the expression of her thoughts, or explain that so public a reference to a proposal of marriage from her cousin must be doubly painful to her, seeing that the idea of such a marriage had been abandoned. But Mr Slow understood all this, and, coming over to her, took her gently by the hand. "My dear," he said, "you may trust me in this as though I were your father. I know that such publicity is painful; but, believe me, it is the best that we can do." Of course she had no alternative but to yield. When the interview was over, her cousin walked home with her to Arundel Street, and said much to her as to the necessity for this trial. He said so much, that she, at last, dimly understood that the matter could not be set at rest by her simple renouncing of the property. Her own lawyer could not allow her to do so; nor could he, John Ball, consent to receive the property in such a manner. "You see, by that newspaper, what people would say of me." But had he not the power of making everything easy by doing that which he himself had before proposed to do? Why did he not again say, "Margaret, come and be my wife?" She acknowledged to herself that he had a right to act as though he had never said those words,—that the facts elicited by Mr Maguire's visit to the Cedars were sufficient to absolve him from his offer. But yet she thought that they should have been sufficient also to induce him to renew it. On that occasion, when he left her at the door in Arundel Street, he had not renewed his offer. <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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