A paleness took the poet's cheek;"Must I drink here?" he seemed to seek The lady's will with utterance meek.
"Ay, ay," she said, "it so must be,"
(And this time she spake cheerfully)
"Behooves thee know world's cruelty." E.B.Browning The trial of Luke Raeburn, on the charge of having published a blasphemous libel in a pamphlet entitled "Bible Miracles," came on in the Court of Queen's Bench early in December.It excited a great deal of interest.Some people hoped that the revival of an almost obsolete law would really help to check the spread of heterodox views, and praised Mr.Pogson for his energy and religious zeal.These were chiefly well-meaning folks, not much given to the study of precedents.Some people of a more liberal turn read the pamphlet in question, and were surprised to see that matter quite as heterodox might be found in many high-class reviews which lay about on drawing room tables, the only difference being that the articles in the reviews were written in somewhat ambiguous language by fashionable agnostics, and that "Bible Miracles" was a plain, blunt, sixpenny tract, avowedly written for the people by the people's tribune.
This general interest and attention, once excited, gave rise to the following results: to an indiscriminate and wholesale condemnation of "that odious Raeburn who was always seeking notoriety;" to an immense demand for "Bible Miracles," which in three months reached its fiftieth thousand; and to a considerable crowd in Westminster Hall on the first day of the trial, to watch the entrance and exit of the celebrities.
Erica had been all day in the court.She had written her article for the "Daily Review: in pencil during the break for luncheon;but, as time wore on, the heated atmosphere of the place, which was crammed to suffocation, became intolerable to her.She grew whiter and whiter, began to hear the voices indistinctly, and to feel as if her arms did not belong to her.It would never do to faint in court, and vexed as she was to leave, she took the first opportunity of speaking to her father.
"I think I must go," she whispered, "I can't stand this heat.""Come now, then," said Raeburn, "and I can see you out.This witness has nothing worth listening to.Take notes for me, Tom.
I'll be back directly."
They had only just passed the door leading into Westminster Hall, however, when Tom sent a messenger hurrying after them.An important witness had that minute been called, and Raeburn, who was, as usual, conducting his own case, could not possibly miss the evidence.
"I can go alone," said Erica."Don't stop."But even in his haste, Raeburn, glancing at the crowd of curious faces, was thoughtful for his child.
"No," he said, hurriedly."Wait a moment, and I'll send some one to you."She would have been wiser if she had followed him back into the court; but, having once escaped from the intolerable atmosphere, she was not at all inclined to return to it.She waited where he had left her, just within Westminster Hall, at the top of the steps leading from the entrance to the court.The grandeur of the place, its magnificent proportions, terminating in the great, upward sweep of steps, and the mellow stained window, struck her more than ever after coming from the crowded and inconvenient little court within.
The vaulted roof, with its quaintly carved angels, was for the most part dim and shadowy, but here and there a ray of sunshine, slanting in through the clerestory windows, changed the sombre tones to a golden splendor.Erica, very susceptible to all high influences, was more conscious of the ennobling influence of light, and space, and beauty than of the curious eyes which were watching her from below.But all at once her attention was drawn to a group of men who stood near her, and her thoughts were suddenly brought back to the hard, every-day world, from which for a brief moment she had escaped.With a quick, apprehensive glance, she noted that among them was a certain Sir Algernon Wyte, a man who never lost an opportunity of insulting her father.
"Did you see the fellow?" said one of the group."He came to the door just now.""And left his fair daughter to be a spectacle to men and angels?"said Sir Algernon.
Then followed words so monstrous, so intolerable, that Erica, accustomed as she was to discourtesies, broke down altogether.It was so heartless, so cruelly false, and she was so perfectly defenseless! A wave of burning color swept over her face.If she could but have gone away have hidden herself from those cruel eyes.
But her knees trembled so fearfully that, had she tried to move, she must have fallen.Sick and giddy, the flights of steps looked to her like a precipice.She could only lean for support against the gray-stone moldings of the door way, while tears, which for once she could not restrain, rushed to her eyes.Oh! If Tom or the professor, or some one would but come to her! Such moments as those are not measured by earthly time; the misery seemed to her agelong though it was in reality brief enough for Brian, coming into Westminster Hall, had actually heard Sir Algernon's shameful slander, and pushing his way through the crowd, was beside her almost immediately.
The sight of his face checked her tears.It positively frightened her by its restrained yet intense passion.
"Miss Raeburn," he said, in a clear, distinct voice, plainly heard by the group below, "this is not a fit place for you.Let me take you home."He spoke much more formally than was his wont, yet in his actions he used a sort of authority, drawing her hand within his arm, leading her rapidly through the crowd, which opened before them.
For that one bitter-sweet moment she belonged to him.He was her sole, and therefore her rightful, protector.A minute more, and they stood in Palace Yard.He hastily called a hansom.
