الفصل الفصل 62 · 第62章

. This advice, besides being obviously sensible, would end in saving

Ernest both time and suspense of mind, so we had no hesitation in

adopting it. The case was called on about eleven o’clock, but we got it

adjourned till three, so as to give time for Ernest to set his affairs

as straight as he could, and to execute a power of attorney enabling me

to act for him as I should think fit while he was in prison.

Then all came out about Pryer and the College of Spiritual Pathology.

Ernest had even greater difficulty in making a clean breast of this

than he had had in telling us about Miss Maitland, but he told us all,

and the upshot was that he had actually handed over to Pryer every

halfpenny that he then possessed with no other security than Pryer’s

I.O.U.’s for the amount. Ernest, though still declining to believe that

Pryer could be guilty of dishonourable conduct, was becoming alive to

the folly of what he had been doing; he still made sure, however, of

recovering, at any rate, the greater part of his property as soon as

Pryer should have had time to sell. Towneley and I were of a different

opinion, but we did not say what we thought.

It was dreary work waiting all the morning amid such unfamiliar and

depressing surroundings. I thought how the Psalmist had exclaimed with

quiet irony, “One day in thy courts is better than a thousand,” and I

thought that I could utter a very similar sentiment in respect of the

Courts in which Towneley and I were compelled to loiter. At last, about

three o’clock the case was called on, and we went round to the part of

the court which is reserved for the general public, while Ernest was

taken into the prisoner’s dock. As soon as he had collected himself

sufficiently he recognised the magistrate as the old gentleman who had

spoken to him in the train on the day he was leaving school, and saw,

or thought he saw, to his great grief, that he too was recognised.

Mr Ottery, for this was our attorney’s name, took the line he had

proposed. He called no other witnesses than the rector, Towneley and

myself, and threw himself on the mercy of the magistrate. When he had

concluded, the magistrate spoke as follows: “Ernest Pontifex, yours is

one of the most painful cases that I have ever had to deal with. You

have been singularly favoured in your parentage and education. You have

had before you the example of blameless parents, who doubtless

instilled into you from childhood the enormity of the offence which by

your own confession you have committed. You were sent to one of the

best public schools in England. It is not likely that in the healthy

atmosphere of such a school as Roughborough you can have come across

contaminating influences; you were probably, I may say certainly,

impressed at school with the heinousness of any attempt to depart from

the strictest chastity until such time as you had entered into a state

of matrimony. At Cambridge you were shielded from impurity by every

obstacle which virtuous and vigilant authorities could devise, and even

had the obstacles been fewer, your parents probably took care that your

means should not admit of your throwing money away upon abandoned

characters. At night proctors patrolled the street and dogged your

steps if you tried to go into any haunt where the presence of vice was

suspected. By day the females who were admitted within the college

walls were selected mainly on the score of age and ugliness. It is hard

to see what more can be done for any young man than this. For the last

four or five months you have been a clergyman, and if a single impure

thought had still remained within your mind, ordination should have

removed it: nevertheless, not only does it appear that your mind is as

impure as though none of the influences to which I have referred had

been brought to bear upon it, but it seems as though their only result

had been this—that you have not even the common sense to be able to

distinguish between a respectable girl and a prostitute.

“If I were to take a strict view of my duty I should commit you for

trial, but in consideration of this being your first offence, I shall

deal leniently with you and sentence you to imprisonment with hard

labour for six calendar months.”

Towneley and I both thought there was a touch of irony in the

magistrate’s speech, and that he could have given a lighter sentence if

he would, but that was neither here nor there. We obtained leave to see

Ernest for a few minutes before he was removed to Coldbath Fields,

where he was to serve his term, and found him so thankful to have been

summarily dealt with that he hardly seemed to care about the miserable

plight in which he was to pass the next six months. When he came out,

he said, he would take what remained of his money, go off to America or

Australia and never be heard of more.

We left him full of this resolve, I, to write to Theobald, and also to

instruct my solicitor to get Ernest’s money out of Pryer’s hands, and

Towneley to see the reporters and keep the case out of the newspapers.

He was successful as regards all the higher-class papers. There was

only one journal, and that of the lowest class, which was

incorruptible.