 | CHAPTER XXXVI.
THE MINISTER TRIES TO DO SOMETHING. The new priest in Conception Bay |  |
36. CHAPTER XXXVI.
THE MINISTER TRIES TO DO SOMETHING.
AS things stood, it appeared that, if any thing was
to be done about Lucy Barbury, (to any purpose,)
the Minister must set it going; for the
Magistrate's operations were rather desultory, and without
satisfactory result, or promise of it; and the magistrates
from Bay-Harbor and elsewhere had only consulted and
deputed one of their number to come to the spot and inquire
and examine; and since his return from Peterport,
(where he had gravely and dignifiedly walked about, and
taken notes and compared them with Mr. Naughton's,
and heard depositions of the father and such of the
neighbors as knew nothing about it,) the magistracy had
drawn in its head and claws, and left only the Peterport
Stipendiary (shall we say its tail?) in action.
Yet now was the time to do, if any thing was to be
done. A watch had been secretly kept up by trusty
men (young Mr. Urston, Jesse, and many others in turn)
about the Priest's premises in Bay-Harbor, from the
afternoon in which Ladford's information had been received;
but there ought to be a search there, immediately;
and next, wherever else there might be occasion.
The difficulties in the way were very considerable, and
even formidable;—one half of the population, at least,
Church;—a mere suspicion of their priests or religious
persons would irritate and incense them; and an
attempt to invade their premises, and violate the sacredness
of convent-secrecy, and to hold a priest to trial, on a
charge of felony, might provoke them to some violent extremity.
Moreover, a clergyman was not the proper
person to conduct and carry out the necessary measures;
having, in the first place, no warrant of an official character
and authority, and therefore not being qualified to
work to the best advantage; and, in the next place, being
specially obnoxious to the animosity of the Roman Catholics,
and unshielded from its effects; and, besides, being
very likely to involve the Church with himself in a feud.
On the other hand, Mr. Wellon was an Englishman, as
stout and healthy in heart and mind as in body; he was
a thorough friend, and (what takes in every thing in
one) he was a faithful pastor. Accordingly, he told
Gilpin, “We can't take care of consequences; we must
make out what our duty is, and do it, to our very best,
and leave what comes after to God.” He undertook,
therefore, to do what he could find to do. For a few
days he kept himself quiet in his place. Sunday and
Monday came and went, and in these few days a few
slight gains of information were made.
Young Urston (whom circumstances threw into such
close association with the Protestants, and who, moreover,
came to church) grew fast in Gilpin's estimation, by the
skill with which he had found out from the wife of one
of the four oarsmen of the priest's punt, (Micky Khosgrove,)
that two females came in the boat from Bay-Harbor,
and three went back—one sick. This sick person
was said to be one of the two nuns who had come
came back shortly, one of them having been taken with
a fit. The other nun and a stranger brought her down;
—the boatmen had not left the punt.
No other information of any consequence was added
to that already gained, except that the anonymous letter
bringing Ladford into question, was written by one Tim
Doyle, a zealous Roman Catholic, but not, it would appear,
liable to any suspicion himself in connection with
the unexplained disappearance. The letter had probably
been prompted by mere religious zeal.
It could not be ascertained, in Peterport, that, on the
memorable evening, any young woman had left it, or that
any stranger Roman Catholic woman had been in it at
all. The mystery, therefore, was not lighted.
Mr. Wellon began at the official in Bay-Harbor, who
had come to Peterport, examining in the name of the
larger magistracy. It was the Hon. Mr. Bride, a gentleman
of quite an important rank in the colony. The
merchant-magistrate of Bay-Harbor differed from the
merchant-magistrate of Peterport, more in degree than
in kind. He had seen the world; was a man of very
good presence and manners; he listened to Mr. Wellon's
statement patiently and courteously, but regretted that he
did not see how he could take up the affair; said that authority
ought to be had from one of the judges; and recommended
the application to Judge Bearn, who was
expected in Bay-Harbor in a day or two, and could furnish
the necessary warrant. On the whole, it was rather
an ugly-looking job, he thought, and feared that not much
would be accomplished. He added, however, that “he
had met that new priest,—Debree,—and that he seemed
anxious that something might be done.”
From this active functionary, Mr. Wellon went as fast
as he could get away, only requesting that the object of
his visit might be kept strictly private, a request to which
the magistrate replied, with dignity, that it was not his
habit to speak of business except with those to whom it
belonged.
The judge came, as was expected; and it was not long
after his being settled at his lodgings, that Mr. Wellon
made his way to him and secured an appointment for a
private interview. At this, he went through his case,
which the judge heard attentively, and without asking a
question until the statement was ended; making notes
and taking down the names of the different persons who
could testify, and the nature of the evidence they could
give. The Parson went over, with the judge, the arguments
of probability. Judge Bearn was of opinion that
the girl might have gone, of her own free will, but that
she had not done so was argued by the fact that there
had been no communication from her since,—a thing
which the priests or “religious” having her under their
control would have been anxious to have her make, rather
than underlie the suspicion of a felony instead of a misdemeanor;
then, that they had not carried her off against
her will, he thought, because of the want of motive;—
she was no heiress.
The Minister argued steadily; mentioned again young
Urston's relation to Lucy Barbury; his abandonment of
the preparation for the priesthood; Mrs. Calloran's character;—but
his great argument was the fact that she had
been at the nunnery. The judge showed him how the
arguments of probability affected the fact: “A suspicion,
on the whole unlikely, is to be established by what sort
of evidence? You bring evidence to show (imperfectly,
with her lover had been broken up, of her own
accord, (for she went alone, in a crazy fit, if you will,)
went away from her father's house, and along a road that
leads to her lover's door, and to the water-side; no previous
concert, nor any meeting or understanding since,
between the two young people, appears; (the young
man's whole conduct and all the circumstances go against
it;) that road leads by her lover's house to the water-side;
the next day a cap belonging to her, and which
had been worn by her on the day of her disappearance, is
picked up on the shore; another article of dress is picked
up from the water later. That case, as it stands, looks
more like one of suicide in a fit of derangement, than
any thing. Then you've got some other things to bring
in: the prayer-book burned, and Mrs. Calloran's equivocations
about it. Now, of these, you may suppose the
book to have been in her hand, and dropped on her way
to the fatal spot; and the woman's different stories, (if
she had found it and wreaked her dislike upon it,) would
not be very strange.”
The Minister listened sadly to this presentment of the
case, which had, no doubt, many a time forced itself upon
him and been thrust out of his mind.
“Now, on the other hand,” said the judge, “given, an
old nurse of resolute character and a bigot to her faith,
and a father fond of his son; both—granny and father—
disappointed at the failure of cherished prospects of ambition
for that young man; then, on the same side, an
unscrupulous priest, having great and active talents, shut
up in a little room; obsequious nuns; with a girl uncommonly
gifted in mind and body coming across the religious
prejudices and principles of all, and the interest
strongly enough,)—if a chance offers, will they snatch
this girl up, and keep her in durance? In your theory
of what has been done, I believe you leave out the father
of the young man, entirely, and begin at the granny,
(Dux fœmina facti;) she, and the priest and the nuns,
manage it among them. That is one supposition; another
is (or may be) this:—
“The parties before mentioned,—of the first part, as
we say,—old nurse of the young man, and his father, or,
if you will leave out the father, the nurse and the priest,
are conspirators with the girl, to bring her out of the
Church to Popery; she runs away, at the first chance, in
her sick-room clothes, and is secretly carried to the nunnery
at Bay-Harbor.
“The first of these suppositions is possible, but unlikely;
because, beside all kindly feelings, common sense would
teach the Priest, if not the woman, that it's a troublesome,
unprofitable, and dangerous business, keeping a live
prisoner, and as dangerous letting one go. There have
been cases of prisoners so kept, certainly; but they are
so rare, as to deserve to be left out, in the consideration
of probabilities.
“Then for the other supposition of the girl's having
consented with them, appearances seem to me against it.
There are cases enough of this sort; women are inveigled,
and a priest can be found,—without looking,—to take her
in, (Virgil, again, changing one letter, confugium vocat:
hoc prætexit nomine culpam;) but they would let the
parents and the world know, and could we in such a case
suppose the lover likely to be ignorant?—You observe
that I have yet made no account of the young lady's
(Miss Dare's) information, nor of the American's, nor of
for I think them very important, altogether, and Ladford's,
and perhaps Bangs's, separately. Upon the character
of these men rests the whole burden of proof:—it may
be enough to make probable an improbable hypothesis.—
I should be glad to see them.”
Mr. Wellon stated without reserve the case of his witnesses.
“Mr. Bangs was making some religious inquiries
in Bay-Harbor,” (at this the judge smiled,) “William
Ladford was afraid to be known,” (the judge looked
grave:) the Minister went on to speak of the tie which
seemed to bind Ladford to Skipper George; of the irreproachable
life that he had led, and his apparent penitence,
the good esteem of his neighbors, and in short, so
described him, that the judge became quite interested
about him. “Let me ask,” said he, “(it shall do him no
harm,) was he a smuggler?” (“Yes,” said Mr. Wellon.)
“His name then is Warrener Lane; we've heard of him;
his case is a good deal better than it used to look, for I
noticed that his chief accuser, who was hung the other
day, retracted his accusation of Lane; but he is in such
a position, that not only he might be put to trouble himself,
but his evidence could be thoroughly and irremediably
impeached. Now I'll think the whole thing over.
You bring me these men, (will you?—Ladford, on my
honor,—) to-morrow. I'll determine after seeing and
hearing them, and if the smuggler is the sort of man,
we'll get his pardon.”
Mr. Wellon thanked him heartily.
“By the way,” said the judge, “I don't see any thing
of the new priest in your affair;—Debree, I believe his
name is now”—
“Do you know him?” asked the Minister.
“To be sure I do. I knew him from a boy, and a fine
fellow he was. His father, you know, was a member of
the Executive Council, formerly Lieutenant-Colonel in
the army. This was his only son. Mrs. Neilson, and
Mrs. Wilkie, and Mrs. Collins were his daughters. This
young man went to Oxford and afterwards took orders.
He then went to the West Indies and married there, I
believe, had a fortune left him by his mother's brother,
dropped part of his name, and then—I never heard how,
—changed his faith. I think his wife must have died
there.—That young fellow was one of the noblest beings,
years ago, that I ever knew.”
The Minister sighed deeply, and said that Father Debree
was already much beloved in Peterport.
The next day Mr. Bangs, having been intercepted in
one of his business tours by the secret guard, consented
to come to the judge's lodgings, privately, and, being there,
went through his examination. His way of getting to
a succinct mode of speaking was this:—
Q. “Were you near Mr. Urston's house on the evening
of the Fifteenth instant?”
A. “Wall, as far's I can be sure o' my pers'nal ident'ty,
I guess I was.”
Q. “Please to answer directly to the question. Were
you?”
A. “Wall, I guess I wa'n't far off.”
Q. “Once more; Were you?”
A. with a smile, “I was.” So on, about the women
that night, and the nunnery and all. He was desired to
wait after his interview with the judge.
Ladford, very humbly and most intelligently, gave his
statement. The judge drew him out a good deal in a
kind way, and the man let himself be drawn out.
When he heard of the pardon, he said with tears,
“Thank God! That's the `one other thing' besides finding
Skipper George's daughter, that I spoke to you about,
Mr. Wellon, t'other day. I should like to die a free
man.”
The end of all was that the judge said,—
“The warrant will be in the hands of the deputy sherriff
in half an hour; he'll execute it as soon as he can,
conveniently and quietly. You must get this Mr. Bangs
safely out of the way till the evening, that he may not
put them on their guard.”
On coming out, Mr. Wellon was sounding the American,
when the latter turned round and said,—
“Look a' here, Mr. Wellon; you want to know if I'll
keep still 'bout the judge, and what not. Yes—I guess
I will. 'Twun't touch Father O'Toole.”
| CHAPTER XXXVI.
THE MINISTER TRIES TO DO SOMETHING. The new priest in Conception Bay | |