tions I had not the particulars of the res gestæ before me in a satisfactory way, so I charged the other side broadly enough to let in the scalp, if Mrs. Barber can swear up to that point. What do you say, Mrs. Barber?”
“I don’t think we can actually scalp Mrs. Barber,” said Lamb, as his client appeared to be hesitating for a reply. “Not quite that.”
“Boggles v. Boggles,” continued the learned gentleman, “is the leading case on the point which has governed all subsequent decisions under this head of sævitia, or cruelty. It was there held that within limits the marital power extends to a control over the wife’s hair during cohabitation. Mrs. Boggles charged that, upon one occasion, her husband cut off her hair when she was asleep—and, to use her own graphic, but somewhat trivial, phrase, when she awoke she was as bare as a barber’s block. Boggles replied, that true it was he had softly, during the lady’s slumber, removed a certain portion of her hair, which she was in the habit of wearing of an undue length, but that he had done so because it excited remark, and to avoid scandal. The court held that the husband was justified to the extent of moderate curtailment, but not to the length of a total deprivation of the wife’s hair—not upon the ground that the hair is an ornament—for as to the propriety of certain ornaments the husband is the best judge—but because the total and sudden loss of hair might imperil health, and might therefore be well called sævitia. The learned judge let fall an obiter dictum upon that occasion, that it would have been otherwise had the scalp or cuticle been injured by a sharp-cutting instrument, for there was manifest cruelty—save indeed the lesion had occurred, per incuriam, or through carelessness, when it would have been well enough. But in Boggles and Boggles there was a primâ facie presumption that such was not the case, as the amotion or removal of the hair had taken place during sleep, and, as the Ecclesiastical Judge shrewdly remarked, had the lady been cut or otherwise wounded on the head during her sleep, there was a violent probability that she would have awoken. But it was not so. Ah! Mr. Lamb, these cases were well looked into before the alteration in the system.”
“Yes—Sir Cresswell would never have thought of that,” said Lamb, not without a certain tinge, as I thought, of irony in his tone. I may here as well remark that Dr. Dodge was a somewhat portly elderly man, with grey hair, and a healthy red face, which seemed indicative of good, yet of careful living. You would have said here was a man who might not impossibly drink his two bottles of port a day, but who knew the value of shower-baths, rough towels, and early walking. He talked in a slow, emphatic manner, and had a way of throwing back his head and closing his eyes during the more involved portion of his argument; but he would awake from his apparent lethargy, and look you defiantly in the face while letting off his scraps of law-Latin. He actually rolled these about in his mouth like delicacies—they evidently smacked sweetly on his intellectual palate. During his exposition of the law, Mrs. Barber’s remarkably red and satisfactory lips had been the seat of considerable nervous energy; you would have supposed that her thoughts had been busy with her sad and desecrated Past, save at the moment when Dr. Dodge spoke of the barber’s block as an illustration of the condition to which the lady’s head had been reduced by the barbarous act of that monster Boggles. The nervous twitching was then an obvious effort to repress a smile; but Mrs. Barber quickly subsided into her more mournful, and now, alas! more usual tone of thought. It appeared, however, that she had thoroughly appreciated the gist of the learned civilian’s argument, for she remarked, as soon as Dr. Dodge had concluded his exposition of the law:
“I might have done it myself, perhaps—indeed, of course, it was so—besides, I don’t think—”
“What, ma’am!” said Lamb. “Give us the facts: it is for Dr. Dodge and myself to judge of their value.”
“I never said anything about it at the time, but, in struggling to escape from Mr. Barber, the knife with which he was threatening me certainly did cut me,—not that I think for a moment that he really intended my death,—but Augustus was so incautious. The wound bled very much, and spoilt a sweet little collar of Brussels point, which I had only bought the day before, because dear baby—”
“Never mind that interesting child just now—any scar left, Mrs. Barber?”
The lady threw back her veil, and gave a triumphant start—but in this she instantly checked herself and stared into vacancy, whilst her eyes filled with tears. I could not have supposed that any human eyes could have contained so much water without overflowing. At last down it came with a rush—it was a positive relief to me, and I am sure to the other two gentlemen also, when we heard her sob. Oh! for but one quarter of an hour’s private interview with Barber—giving me just time to have a pair of boots made for the occasion?
“Mrs. Barber, be calm,” said Lamb.
“My de-e-ear Mrs. Barber!” said Dr. Dodge.
For myself, I turned round to the window, and without shame to my manhood be it spoken, attended to my Adam’s apple, which was feeling unpleasantly large in my throat. When I looked round again on the group, Mrs. Barber was holding Dr. Dodge’s wrist tightly with one hand, Mr. Lamb’s with the other.
“Oh! I’ll never tell! Augustus, is it come to this? I’ll never, never, never tell. You won’t hang him, sir, will you?—besides. Oh! how can I save him? I shall go distracted—if it was not for my blessed, blessed child. No matter, I’ll go to the foot of the throne—”
“It will be quite unnecessary, ma’am, I assure you, to give yourself that trouble. Sir Cresswell doesn’t go the length you suppose, even in his sternest moods. Mr. Barber’s neck is perfectly, and unfortunately safe.”
“The more’s the pity: a scoundrel who thirsted after a woman’s blood—and such a woman, such an angel as that!” said I; but I was instantly frowned down by the two professional gentlemen. For this I did not care one rush, as Mrs. Barber turned upon me her blue eyes overflowing with