LORD OAKBURN’S DAUGHTERS.
BY THE AUTHOR OF “EAST LYNNE.”
CHAPTER XXXI.FREDERICK GREY’S “CROTCHET.”
That a strong tide, rolling from one end of South Wennock to the other, had set in against Mr. Stephen Grey, was a fact indisputable. Immediately subsequent to the inquest on Mrs. Crane the tide of public opinion had set in for him; people seemed to feel ashamed of having suspected him of so fatal an error, and they made much, of Mr. Stephen Grey. This prevailed for a week or two, and then the current changed. One insinuated a doubt, another insinuated a doubt; some said Mr. Stephen had been culpably careless; others said he had been tipsy. And the current against the surgeon went flowing on until it became as a rushing torrent, threatening to engulf him in its angry might.
Another indisputable fact was, that a great inciter to this feeling was Mr. Carlton. It was he who did the most towards fanning the flame. This was not generally known, for Mr. Carlton’s work was partially effected in secret; but still it did in a measure ooze out, especially to the Greys. That Mr. Carlton’s motive must be that of increasing his own practice, was universally assumed; but it was an underhand way of doing it, and it caused young Frederick Grey to boil over with indignation.
On a sofa in the house of Mr. Stephen Grey, lay a lady with a pale face and delicate features. It was Stephen Grey’s wife. She had just returned home after seven or eight months’ absence at the continental spas, whither she had gone with her sister, a wealthy widow, hoping to pick up renewed health; for she, Mrs. Grey, suffered always from an affection of the spine.
Frederick was bending over her. The boy loved nothing so much on earth as his mother. He was imparting to her all the wonders, pleasant and unpleasant, that had occurred during her absence: the tragedy which had taken place in Palace Street, and its present consequences to Mr. Stephen Grey, naturally forming the principal topic. This had not been written to Mrs. Grey. “As well not disturb her with disagreeable matters,” Mr. Stephen had remarked at the time. She was growing excited over the recital, and she suddenly sat up, looking her son full in the face.
“I cannot understand, Frederick. Either your papa did put the opium into the mixture———"
“Prussic acid, mamma.”
“Prussic acid! What put my thoughts upon opium?—talking of a sleeping draught, I suppose. Either your papa did put the prussic acid into the mixture, or he did not———"
“Dearest mamma, do I not tell you that he did not? I watched him make it up; I watched every drop of everything he put into it. There was no more poison in that draught than there is in this glass of water at your elbow.”
“My dear, I do not dispute it: I should be excessively astonished to hear that your papa had been careless enough to do such a thing. What I want to know is this—with your testimony and your Uncle John’s combined, with the experience of years that they have had in your father, and with the acquitting verdict of the coroner’s jury, why have people got up this prejudice against him?”
“Because they are fools,” logically answered Frederick. “I don’t suppose there are ten people in the place who would call in papa now. It does make Uncle John so mad!”
“It must give him a great deal of extra work,” observed Mrs. Stephen Grey.
“He is nearly worked off his legs. Some of our patients have gone over altogether to the enemy, Carlton. It is he who is the chief instigator against papa. And he does it in such a sneaking, mean way. ‘I am grieved to be called in to take the place of Mr. Stephen Grey,’ he says. ‘No man can more highly respect him than I do, or deplore more deeply the lamentable mistake. I cannot but think he will be cautious for the future: still, when the lives of those dear to us, our wives and children, are at stake———’”
Mrs. Grey could not avoid an interrupting laugh, Frederick was imitating Mr. Carlton so quaintly.
“How do you know he says this to people?” she asked.
“Plenty of them could bear testimony to the fact, mamma. And it does its work all too well.”
“And what is Mr. Carlton’s motive?”
“To get our patients away from us, of course. Now that he has married an earl’s daughter he can’t do with a small income. I wrote you word, you know, about his running away with Miss Laura Chesney. They met