Chapter XIX: The Committee of Reference

THE Committee had appointed the second week in January for their adjourned meeting. The first session was to be on Tuesday at ten o'clock. The Bishop had met Mr. Washburn by appointment at his office, and had told him that if he had changed his mind, and would like the counsel of a lawyer in regard to any point, or to make a statement of his case, Mr. Temple would be glad to act for him. He explained that since Mr. Washburn's illness, this gentleman had become a staunch friend—that if the Rector would give him an opportunity to show his full confidence in the honesty and ability displayed in the management of the Society, he would be very grateful.

In return, the Rector had promised if he needed any aid to call upon Mr. Temple, but added with a smile, "I do not want legal advisers to help me cover up any acts of mine. I need all the aid I can get to go to the bottom of this difficulty, and bring the hidden things to light. In regard to the final result, I feel as sure as that God's promises are true, that He will bring me forth and set my feet in a large place."

The Bishop placed his hand on the Rector's shoulder, saying, "You are a happy man. Blessed are all they that put their trust in Him."

The Sunday previous to the trial, the Rector preached in the city near by, and Mrs. Washburn accompanied him, intending to return home on Sunday evening. Mrs. Hall, the friend wish whom they stopped, begged permission to accompany Mrs. Washburn to the room where the trial was to take place. She also insisted that the whole family should take their dinners with her, as there was to be a morning and afternoon session.

The same Sunday the Rector's family had taken their seats in their own slip, when, happening to glance toward a side pew, Emily met the eyes of the member from Michigan fixed full upon her. Her surprise was so great that the blood flew into her cheeks, and her heart beat so fast that she could scarcely breathe.

In a moment, Marion and Ruth recognized him, and bowed.

Josey, who was next his sister Emily, touched her and whispered, "There is Mr. Lawrence. I'm going to speak to him after service. I'm very well acquainted with him."

It was in vain Emily resolved not to turn her eyes in that direction. There is a kind of fascination when one feels that the eyes of another are fastened on them, and her disobedient orbs continually wandered in the direction of Mr. Lawrence.

When the hymn was given out, Joseph noticed that the gentleman had no book, and instantly, without being told, stepped across the aisle to pass him one. When the service was concluded, Mr. Lawrence joined them, shook hands cordially with Marion, who then introduced her sister.

Emily knew that she was blushing furiously, and the consciousness of this, and the vexation she felt that he should witness her confusion, rendered her unable to explain that she had met him before.

When out of the church, Marion went forward, and the gentleman, with only a glance behind, joined her, leaving Emily with Ruth. Josey had seized Mr. Lawrence's hand, and was begging him to go home with them to dinner.

He declined, however, but said he should be happy to come in after the next service and hear them sing. He walked quite to their own gate, and then left them with a bow.

Emily rushed up to her chamber, thankful that she could be alone and collect her thoughts.

"Yes," she soliloquized, sitting on the side of the bed, without waiting to remove her outer garments, "Congress is in session, but he has heard of papa's trial, and has come on to be present. I wonder whether he has heard about Barnes Bailey's ridiculous proposition. I suppose Judge Wilson must have told him. How foolish in me to receive him as a stranger. I wish I could be as much at ease as Marion is. He evidently likes her very much, and he told Judge Wilson he thought her handsome."

She sighed, and then proceeded to take off her hat, at the same time resolving the first time his name was mentioned, to tell Marion that she had seen him in U—.

This she did while her back was turned, so as to hide the tell-tale blushes. Emily was laying the table for lunch, when she said in as careless a tone as possible,—

"Do you remember in my letters, I wrote you of a dear friend, Cecilia Lawrence. This is her brother. I met him at Judge Wilson's."

"Oh, did you?" replied her sister, looking up from her work. "How funny that I introduced you then. But perhaps he didn't recollect it, meeting you so far away. I think he's an elegant man."

Emily made no reply, but having finished her task, took a book and seated herself to read.

Soon after tea, a sudden and rather peremptory ring at the door-bell, made poor Emily almost jump from her chair. It was Mr. Lawrence, who apologized for coming so early, by saying that he found it very lonely being by himself at a strange boarding-house.

"Father and mother will be here soon," urged Marion, "and I'm confident they will not allow you to return there."

Emily said nothing. Indeed, in Mr. Lawrence's presence, she could not resist a return of the old feeling that, for some reason, he disliked her; for except meeting his eyes fixed upon her in the old grave way, he took little notice of her presence. While with Marion, he was as familiar as though he had known her all his life.

At an early hour, Mr. and Mrs. Washburn returned, and the evening was passed in conversation suited to the day, ending with sacred music and family worship.

When the visitor rose to go after having declined Mrs. Washburn's cordial invitation to spend the night, he remarked that this was one of the occasions which left pleasant memories to be carried through life. He promised to dine with them the next day, as he wished to see Mrs. Washburn before her husband's trial, and then left with a shake of the hand all around. When he took Emily's hand, he grasped it so tightly that the pressure was painful, and he bent over her as though he were going to speak, but did not.

The next day he had a long conversation with Mrs. Washburn, while the Rector had gone to the city to make some final arrangements for the coming trial. He told her that having business in the city, he should endeavor to be present at the trial, and inquired what member of the Committee he could consult if he wished to ask any question. She unhesitatingly referred him to Mr. Temple.

Before he left, he turned abruptly to Emily, and inquired whether she had heard from her old admirer, Judge Wilson, of late.

"Yes, sir," she replied. "I had a long, kind letter from his wife, in which he sent many messages."

She smiled as she recalled one message, which was that if she did not bid that man Bailey to keep his hands off, he, the Judge, would send him to prison.

She had indeed, the very day after meeting the clerk at the office, written him a brief answer to his proposition, in which she assured him that nothing on earth would ever induce her to accede to his wishes,—that she trusted the defence of her father to One who was well able to bring all hidden things to light.

The day of the trial came at last. It had been decided that for greater convenience, it should take place in the Episcopal rooms, and chairs had been set around for the Committee, with the Bishop in his official robes at the head. There was a long table piled with books,—the canons of the church—books of common law, and the large leather books in which the Treasurer had kept his accounts.

Opposite the Committee, an arm-chair had been placed for the Rector, and behind him about a dozen chairs which were at once occupied by Mrs. Washburn and her two elder daughters, together with Mr. and Mrs. Hall, and a select number of friends who had obtained permission to be present. Other than these, the trial was to be held with closed doors.

One request Mr. Lawrence had made of Mrs. Washburn in the interview referred to. This was that she would get her husband to order his clerk to be present.

This she did in the following way.

"There ought to be some one," she suggested, "to send on an errand, if you wish a messenger."

"That will not be necessary," he replied, interrupting her. "I have already told Mr. Bailey to be there. He can do every thing of that kind."

One thing Mr. Lawrence did, of which he made no mention. He hired a policeman to remain near the door, and to keep this man in sight. Also, he directed that until the trial closed, the clerk should not be lost sight of by day or night.

At the very minute that the Bishop called the meeting to order, Mr. Lawrence sat down directly behind Emily, in a chair he had before moved to that position.

The Bishop made some brief remarks upon the solemn business before them: and then read a prayer, at the end of which, he added some extempore petitions suited to the case in hand.

I do not propose to weary my readers with a detailed account of the transactions of the day. I will simply state that a gentleman by the name of Rogers opened the case, after which, Mr. Washburn having previously requested the Bishop to call upon him, rose to say a few words.

He stated the length of time he had been employed by the Missionary Association, the number of times he had presented the cause before different parishes, and in round numbers the sum total that had been contributed toward its funds. He referred briefly to his health, and the peculiar symptoms he could only describe by calling it confusion of ideas.

"It is a sad fact," he added, "that the accounts during those very months when I was thus disabled, do not balance, but that several thousands of dollars appear to be due from me to the Society. I have endeavored to the best of my ability, to account for this discrepancy, but so far in vain, and I now call upon you, gentlemen of the Committee, to give me your aid in solving the mystery. The books of the Society's accounts, the files of receipted bills, together with my own memorandum book, and my wife's book of home expenses for the time since I have been Treasurer, I now place in your hands. The more rigid you are in your investigations, the greater will be my gratitude. I now leave myself in your hands, and may God succeed your endeavors to ascertain the whole truth."

It was a tedious business going through the accounts, and comparing the moneys paid out with the receipted bills. When the hour for adjournment till the afternoon session came, little had been accomplished, but one fact called special attention. So far, that is during the first six months of Mr. Washburn's connection with the Society, the accounts balanced to a cent.

The intermission was an hour and a half. Emily alone was aware that it was by her means that Mr. Lawrence had been induced by Judge Wilson to be present at the trial. She was sure also that it must be at great inconvenience to himself, and she felt that she in particular owed him common civility. But resolve and re-resolve as she would, while the Committee were engaged in their work, she could not summon courage to speak to him. All she could do was to ask her mother whether it would not be well to give Mrs. Hall a hint that this gentleman had come from a distance, and solely for their benefit. The consequence of this hint was that before they left the room, Mr. Hall invited the stranger to accompany Mr. Washburn's family to his house for dinner.

This time, he glanced at Emily, who was, however, so much engaged in pulling on her glove that she did not look toward him, but Marion touched his arm, and insisted that he should accept.

More than this, she insisted that they should all feel better for some exercise after sitting so quiet, and ascertaining that dinner would not be served for three-quarters of an hour, she proposed that he should accompany her and her sister in a walk around the park.

There was one allusion made by Mr. Lawrence, just as they reached the steps to Mr. Hall's door, which quite spoiled Emily's pleasure in the otherwise delightful walk. He had at first talked to her of Cecilia,—said he was really afraid to tell her he had been in Canterbury, so dreadful would be her indignation at his not inviting her to accompany him.

Then Marion sought to draw from him what he intended to do at the close of the trial, in case they ascertained nothing concerning the missing money.

"Shall you make a speech?" she urged, laughing. "Why don't you make it at once? Please do."

"No, Miss Marion," he answered, gravely, as they were ascending the steps, "I cannot consent to do so, even to oblige you. I lost my case once—the most important case of my life, by being too precipitate. It was a serious lesson, but it will be a lasting one."

Emily happened to be looking at him, and for an instant found it impossible to withdraw her gaze, so earnestly were his deep set eyes fastened on hers.