The news of Shand’s return was soon common in Cambridge. The tidings, of course, were told to Mr. Caldigate, and were then made known by him to Hester. The old man, though he turned the matter much in his mind,— doubting whether the hopes thus raised would not add to Hester’s sorrow should they not ultimately be realised,— decided that he could not keep her in the dark. Her belief could not be changed by any statement which Shand might make. Her faith was so strong that no evidence could shake it,— or confirm it. But there would, no doubt, arise in her mind a hope of liberation if any new evidence against the Australian marriage were to reach her; which hope might so probably be delusive! But he knew her to be strong to endure as well as strong to hope, and therefore he told her at once. Then Mr. Seely returned to Cambridge, and all the facts of Shand’s deposition were made known at Folking. ‘That will get him out at once, of course,’ said Hester, triumphantly, as soon as she heard it. But the Squire was older and more cautious, and still doubted. He explained that Dick Shand was not a man who by his simple word would certainly convince a Secretary of State;— that deceit might be suspected;— that a fraudulent plot would be possible; and that very much care was necessary before a convicted prisoner would be released.
‘I am quite sure, from Mr. Seely’s manner, that he thinks I have bribed the young man,’ said Caldigate.
‘You!’
‘Yes;— I. These are the ideas which naturally come into people’s heads. I am not in the least angry with Mr. Seely, and feel that it is only too likely that the Secretary of State and the judge will think the same. If I were Secretary of State I should have to think so.’
‘I couldn’t suspect people like that.’
‘And therefore, my dear, you are hardly fit to be Secretary of State. We must not be too sanguine. That is all.’
But Hester was very sanguine. When it was fully known that Dick had written to Mr. Seely immediately on his arrival at Pollington, and that he had shown himself to be a warm partisan in the Caldigate interests, she could not rest till she saw him herself, and persuaded Mr. Caldigate to invite him down to Folking. To Folking therefore he went, with the full intention of declaring John Caldigate’s innocence, not only there, but all through Cambridgeshire. The Boltons, of whom he had now heard something, should be made to know what an honest man had to say on the subject,— an honest man, and who was really on the spot at the time. To Dick’s mind it was marvellous that the Boltons should have been anxious to secure a verdict against Caldigate,— which verdict was also against their own daughter and their own sister. Being quite sure himself that Caldigate was innocent, he could not understand the condition of feeling which would be produced by an equally strong conviction of his guilt. Nor was his mind, probably, imbued with much of that religious scruple which made the idea of a feigned marriage so insupportable to all Hester’s relations. Nor was he aware that when a man has taken a preconception home to himself and fastened it and fixed it, as it were, into his bosom, he cannot easily expel it,— even though personal interest should be on the side of such expulsion. It had become a settled belief with the Boltons that John Caldigate was a bigamist, which belief had certainly been strengthened by the pertinacious hostility of Hester’s mother. Dick had heard something of all this, and thought that he would be able to open their eyes.
When he arrived at Folking he was received with open arms. Sir John Joram had not quite liked him, because his manner had been rough. Mr. Seely had regarded him from the first as a ruined man, and therefore a willing perjurer. Even at Pollington his ‘bush’ manners had been a little distasteful to all except his mother. Mr. Caldigate felt some difficulty in making conversation with him. But to Hester he was as an angel from heaven. She was never tired of hearing from him every detail as to her husband’s life at Ahalala and Nobble,— particularly as to his life after Euphemia Smith had taken herself to those parts and had quarrelled with him. The fact of the early infatuation had been acknowledged on all sides. Hester was able to refer to that as a mother, boasting of her child’s health, may refer to the measles,— which have been bad and are past and gone. Euphemia Smith had been her husband’s measles. Men generally have the measles. That was a thing so completely acknowledged, that it was not now the source of discomfort. And the disease had been very bad with him. So bad that he had talked of marriage,— had promised marriage. Crafty women do get hold of innocent men, and drive them sometimes into perdition,— often to the brink of perdition. That was Hester’s theory as to her husband. He had been on the brink, but had been wise in time. That was her creed, and as it was supported by Dick, she found no fault with Dick’s manner,— not even with the yellow trousers which were brought into use at Folking.
‘You were with him on that very day,’ she said. This referred to the day in April on which it had been sworn that the marriage was solemnized.
‘I was with him every day about that time. I can’t say about particular days. The truth is,— I don’t mind telling you, Mrs. Caldigate,— I was drinking a good deal just then.’ His present state of abstinence had of course become known at Folking, not without the expression of much marvel on the part of the old Squire as to the quantity of tea which their visitor was able to swallow. And as this abstinence had of course been admired, Dick had fallen into a way of confessing his past backslidings to a pretty, sympathetic friendly woman, who was willing to believe all that he said, and to make much of him.
‘But I suppose ——’ Then she hesitated; and Dick understood the hesitation.
‘I was never so bad,’ said he, ‘but what I knew very well what was going on. I don’t believe Caldigate and Mrs. Smith even so much as spoke to each other all that month. She had had a wonderful turn of luck.’
‘In getting gold?’
‘She had bought and sold shares till she was supposed to have made a pot of money. People up there got an idea that she was one of the lucky ones,— and it did seem so. Then she got it into her head that she didn’t want Caldigate to know about her money, and he was downright sick of her. She had been good-looking at one time, Mrs. Caldigate.’
‘I daresay. Most of them are so, I suppose.’
‘And clever. She’d talk the hind-legs off a dog, as we used to say out there.’
‘You had very odd sayings, Mr. Shand.’
‘Indeed we had. But when she got in that way about her money, and then took to drinking brandy, Caldigate was only too glad to be rid of her. Crinkett believed in her because she had such a run of luck. She held a lot of his shares,— shares that used to be his. So they got together, and she left Ahalala and went to Polyeuka Hall. I remember it all as if it were yesterday. When I broke away from Caldigate in June, and went to Queensland, they hadn’t seen each other for two months. And as for having been married;— you might as well tell me that I had married her!’
If Mr. Caldigate had ever allowed a shade of doubt to cross his mind as to his son’s story, Dick Shand’s further story removed it. The picture of the life which was led at Ahalala and Nobble was painted for him clearly, so that he could see, or fancy that he saw, what the condition of things had been. And this increased faith trickled through to others. Mr. Bromley who had always believed, believed more firmly than before, and sent tidings of his belief to Plum-cum-Pippins and thence to Babington. Mr. Holt, the farmer, became more than ever energetic, and in a loud voice at a Cambridge market ordinary, declared the ill-usage done to Caldigate and his young wife. It had been said over and over again at the trial that Dick Shand’s evidence was the one thing wanted, and here was Dick Shand to give his evidence. Then the belief gained ground in Cambridge and with the belief there arose a feeling as to the egregious wrong which was being done.
But the Boltons were still assured. None of them had as yet given any sign of yielding. Robert Bolton knew very well that Shand was at Folking, but had not asked to see him. He and Mr. Seely were on different sides, and could not discuss the matter; but their ideas were the same. It was incredible to Robert that Dick Shand should appear just at this moment, unless as part of an arranged plan. He could not read the whole plot; but was sure that there was a plot. It was held in his mind as a certain fact, that John Caldigate would not have paid away that large sum of money had he not thought that by doing so he was buying off Crinkett and the other witnesses. Of course there had been a marriage in Australia, and therefore the arrival of Dick Shand was to him only a lifting of the curtain for another act of the play. An attempt was to be made to get Caldigate out of prison, which attempt it was his duty to oppose. Caldigate had, he thought, deceived and inflicted a terrible stain on his family; and therefore Caldigate was an enemy upon whom it behoved him to be revenged. This feeling was the stronger in his bosom, because Caldigate had been brought into the family by him.
But when D............