gratitude for my honest sympathy,—and, her nostrils distended, quite panted in her efforts to suppress her natural and very creditable emotions at the danger which, as she supposed, threatened her unworthy husband. Poor soul! what could she know about the differences in jurisdiction between a criminal, and a matrimonial Court of Justice?
“Hadn’t you better leave me alone with the lady?” said Dr. Dodge, in a soft, soothing tone, like that of a surgeon about to commence an operation.
“No, sir, certainly not. I am in the habit of attending to my clients myself. Would you like a little sal volatile, Mrs. Barber? I always keep a quart in the cupboard, besides twelve bottles of salts, and a packet of stay-laces.”
“Thank you, no, dear kind Mr. Lamb. Thank you, no—thank you, no.” A change had evidently come over Mrs. Barber’s mood, for she rose from her seat, and kept shaking the two gentlemen, who did not seem to know what to make of it, violently by the hand. I had sometimes seen my beloved Flora ‘taken'—so could the better understand these sudden revulsions of feeling;—the female organisation is so sensitive—so delicate—by George, it won’t do to trifle with it. I thought I might as well have a shake myself whilst they were being served out so plentifully. I confess, however, that even I was not prepared for the extent of Mrs. Barber’s gratitude; for, after all, what had I done? Nothing, certainly, that deserved “to be remembered to the last moment of her sad existence!” In another moment she was quite playful, and it was pretty to see the infantine way in which she tore off her bonnet—the identical chapeau-à-la-Cresswell which Madame Lareine had prepared with so much taste and discrimination. She then took out two little side combs, and let her hair float in disorder round her face. If the jury could but have seen her as she put it aside, and peeped out like a sweetly mischievous child, I am very confident they would have torn Barber into atoms, only allowing the foreman the privilege of the first kick. She then indicated to Dr. Dodge the spot which was the seat of the injury. That learned civilian put on his spectacles, in order that he might more clearly discover the mischief.
“Yes, indeed, Mr. Lamb, here is a well-defined cicatrix, or scar. See here, Mr. Lamb. Will you allow me, Mrs. Barber?”
That lady had folded her arms upon her breast, and smiled on him so meekly, that it went to my heart. In proper hands what might not that woman have been, and here were all her pretty ways to be commented on, and measured and balanced by these two rude professional men? Dr. Dodge gently enough—I must admit—put her hair aside; and, stooping down, blew upon her head—the vile grampus!—in order to secure an efficient parting. Mrs. Barber gave a little shudder, and looking up, archly said:
“O-o-oh! doctor, it tickles so! Oh, how funny!”
Lamb was examining the scar with the help of one of those large magnifying glasses which they hand to you in an engraver’s shop to help you to a sight of the finer and more delicate efforts of the artist. On the whole, I thought that the two gentlemen spent more time over the investigation than was actually necessary.
“Are you quite sure, Mrs. Barber,” said Lamb, “that you never received any injury on your head in childhood—never tumbled down-stairs, or over a fender, or anything of that sort?”
“Oh! never, never, never!—dear mamma was always so careful of us” (here the poor soul began to cry again), “and would never let us out of her sight. There was never any accident in our family but one, and that was when little Alfred was playing at soldiers with us girls, and doing the Life Guards at Waterloo, and he ran the toasting-fork into Eliza’s eye. Poor Eliza always had a cast in it afterwards till the twins were born, and then it got right again.”
“Dear me,” said Lamb, “very singular circumstance! However, there is the scar sure enough; and we may perhaps import it into the case. Will the other side call any of the old servants of the family, I wonder? Well, well, we’ll think about it. Now, Mrs. Barber, let us go on to the other points of the evidence. You understand we are confining ourselves just now to the head of—cruelty.”
“Yes, Mr. Lamb, I perfectly understand you, and Augustus was so very, very cruel!”
“Will you forgive me, madam, for impressing on you the importance of precision in this matter. I want to know when was the first, and when was the last, act of cruelty charged? Within what limits did the Respondent ill-use us? When did the Defence—if I may so express it—first show the cloven hoof?”
“You mean, sir, when Augustus was first naughty? I remember very well, for I was so astonished at it. It was within a week after our marriage. We were at Hastings, and he asked me to play at ball; and as we hadn’t any ball, he asked me to chuck my purse to him, and he would catch it. I did so, and he put it quietly in his pocket, and called me a ‘little goose,’ and wouldn’t give it me back, and I was so disappointed because I wanted to buy presents for him with it; but when I burst out crying, and told him this, he said he would give effect to my wishes in a more judicious way than I could myself.”
“Your husband never had any money of his own, Mrs. Barber, I believe?” said Dr. Dodge.
“I never saw any: he used to tell me, before we were married, that he had a fine estate, although he didn’t wish to mention it to my family, as it would be an agreeable surprise to them. After we were married, I kept teasing him about it—for I wished to see the castle of which he had told me so often—so one morning he said he would gratify me by showing me the title-deeds, and he brought down a long box—”
“The usual thing, Doctor,” said Lamb, “a brace of billiard cues.”
“Yes, yes, the usual thing,” answered Dodge, as though the point wasn’t even worth discussion.
I confess I was scandalised at Mr. Barber’s duplicity; but, of course, professional men do get hardened.
“And the last time, Mrs. Barber? You see I