stupid in not looking for him there in the first instance.
From the hotel, I proceeded direct to Mrs Hyland’s residence, as I walked along, anticipating much pleasure in the task of compelling Adkins to refute his own falsehoods. I feared, however, that shame would hinder him telling the truth; and that even in my presence he would stick to his infamous story. I feared it, because I did not wish to kill him.
As I had conjectured, he was visiting at Mrs Hyland’s. Just as I reached the door, Adkins was coming out.
I controlled my temper as well as I could. I did not wish to defeat my purpose by an exhibition of idle anger.
“Good morning Mr Adkins!” said I. “We meet again; and I assure you, on my part, with profound pleasure.”
He would have passed without speaking, had I not placed my body so as to block the way.
“Who the devil are you; and what do you want?” he asked, with a bullying tone and air that I had often known him assume before.
“I am Rowland Stone,” I answered, “and I wish to see you on a matter of considerable importance.”
“You see me then! what the important business?”
“It can only be made known in the presence of Mrs Hyland and her daughter.”
“Mrs Hyland does not wish to see you,” said Adkins, “and much less her daughter, I should think. As for myself, I want nothing to do with you.”
“I can believe the latter part of your assertions,” I answered, “but it is necessary that we should sometimes do what may not be exactly agreeable to us. If there is a spark of manhood in you, walk back into the house, and repeat to Mrs Hyland in my presence, what you have said behind my back.”
“I shall not take the trouble to do any thing of the kind. I tell you again, I want nothing to say to you. Give me the way!”
As Adkins said this, he made a gesture as if he intended to pass me.
“I’ll give you the way to hell,” said I, “unless you do as I bid you,” and I caught him by the collar to drag him into the house.
He resisted this attempt by aiming a blow at me, which I returned with such interest, that while I still kept my legs, the captain of the “Lenore” missed his; and, staggering backward, he fell heavily on the door-step.
I had now lost all command of myself; and, after ringing the bell, to have the door re-opened, I seized him by the hair of the head – for the purpose of hauling him inside.
My purpose would have been accomplished. I would have broken down the door, dragged him into the house, confronted him with Mrs Hyland, and made him swallow his false words, but for the arrival of a trio of policemen.
I was not overcome until after a long struggle, in which the exertions of the three policemen, Adkins himself, and another man, who was passing at the time, were united against me. It ended in their putting me in irons.
As I was led away from the house, I noticed that Mrs Hyland and Lenore were both at the window – where, I had no doubt, they had been witnesses of the affray.
I was at once taken to a police station, and locked up in one of its cells.
Next morning I was brought before a magistrate. Adkins was there to prosecute. The three policemen were present as witnesses, as also the Liverpool citizen, who had aided in putting me in irons.
After evidence was heard against me, I was called upon for my defence. I had nothing to say to the charge.
The magistrate emphatically declared that a case of a more unprovoked assault had never been brought before him; and that he did not think the ends of justice would be met by the infliction of a fine. He therefore sentenced me to fourteen days’ imprisonment.
I thought none the less of myself for that; and, under other circumstances, two weeks in a prison might not have been passed unpleasantly. But it was bitterness to reflect, that while I was passing my time in the companionship of petty thieves, Edward Adkins was daily visiting Lenore.
Fourteen days must I pass as a prisoner, while my vile enemy would be enjoying the society of Mrs Hyland and her daughter – no doubt doing all he could to blacken my character, and lower me still further in their estimation!
The reflection was anything but pleasant, though I might have partly consoled myself by another: that I was much better off inside the gaol, than millions of my fellow countrymen outside of it. Had I committed some crime, that really deserved this confinement, then would I, indeed, have felt really wretched; but conscience accused me of no wrong; and I was not without those tranquillising emotions ever springing from a sense of rectitude and innocence.
I was not afraid that Adkins would gain any great advantage over me in winning the affections of Lenore – even though aided by the influence of her mother. It was not that which troubled me during my sojourn within the walls of a prison. If Lenore should prove capable of choosing such a man for her husband, I need not regret her loss. My spirit was more harassed by the thought: that wrong should have thus triumphed – that Adkins should be in the society of Lenore, when he should have been in my place in the prison, and I in his.
After I had passed eight days of my confinement, I was surprised one morning by the announcement that I was to receive visitors.
Two persons had called, and inquired for Rowland Stone. They were outside – waiting to be admitted to my cell.
Both proved to be old acquaintances. One was a man named Wilton, who had been the second mate of the ship “Lenore,” under Captain Hyland. The other was Mason, the steward of the same ship.
As both these men had been very kind to me when I was in the ship, I was pleased to see them; but much more so, when I learnt to whom I was indebted for their visit. Mason told me that he was still steward of the “Lenore,” and that Miss Hyland had come to him on board: for the purpose of obtaining a true account of the circumstances that stood between me and Adkins.
“I was glad to learn, Rowley, that you had turned up again,” said Mason, “but at the same time, sorry to hear of your present trouble. I at once resolved to try and get you out of at least a part of it, although I may lose my situation by doing so. I told Miss Hyland, plainly enough, that Adkins was a villain, and that I could prove it. I promised her that I would come and see you. Wilton here, is now the skipper of a tug-boat on the river, and I brought him along – knowing that he can lend a hand to help us.”
“Nothing can please me more than to see Adkins lose the command of the ‘Lenore,’” interposed Wilton, “for I know that he is not an honest man; and that he has been all along robbing the widow. We must decide on some plan to convince Mrs Hyland, that she is placing confidence in a scoundrel.”
Wilton and Mason remained with me nearly an hour; and it was decided that nothing should be done openly, until my term of imprisonment should expire. We were then to ascertain when Adkins would be on a visit to Mrs Hyland’s house, when we should all three go together, meet him there, and tell Mrs Hyland the whole story of his falsehood and dishonesty.
“Should she not believe us, and still continue to trust him,” said Wilton, “then she deserves to be robbed, that’s my way of thinking.”
I thought the same, so far as robbing her of her worldly wealth; but it was bitter to believe that the rascal might also rob her of a jewel more priceless than all else –
