The Forsyte Saga, Volume 3(12)

For somebody, did he mean?

That or the other, how should he know? No, she wasn’t looking on the pavement; no, she didn’t stop, she passed him, anyway, without a look. Had he spoken to her? No fear! Doing? Oh, he was just outside his shop for a breath of air after closing. Did he see her speak to anyone? No, he didn’t, but he wasn’t there long.

‘The Reverend Hilary Charwell.’

Dinny saw her uncle rise from a bench and step up under the canopy of the witness box. He looked active and unclerical, and her eyes rested with pleasure on his long firm face, so wrinkled and humorous.

‘Your name is Hilary Charwell?’

‘Cherrell, if you don’t mind.’

‘Quite. And you are the incumbent of St Augustine’s-in-the-Meads?’

Hilary bowed.

‘For how long?’

‘Thirteen years.’

‘You are acquainted with the defendant?’

‘Since she was a child.’

‘Tell us, please, Mr Cherrell, what you know of her?’

Dinny saw her uncle turn more definitely to the magistrate.

‘Her father and mother, sir, were people for whom I had every respect; they brought up their children well. He was a shoemaker – poor, of course; we’re all poor in my parish. I might almost say they died of poverty five and six years ago, and their two daughters have been more or less under my eye since. They work at Petter and Poplin’s. I’ve never heard anything against Millicent here. So far as I know, she’s a good honest girl.’

‘I take it, Mr Cherrell, your opportunities of judging of her are not very great?’

‘Well, I visit the house in which she lodges with her sister. If you saw it, sir, you would agree that it requires some self-respect to deal as well as they do with the conditions there.’

‘Is she a member of your congregation?’

A smile came on her uncle’s lips, and was reflected on the magistrate’s.

‘Hardly, sir. Their Sundays are too precious to young people nowadays. But Millicent is one of the girls who goes for her holidays to our Rest House near Dorking. They are always very good girls down there. My niece by marriage, Mrs Michael Mont, who runs the house, has reported well of her. Shall I read what she says?

DEAR UNCLE HILARY,

You ask about Millicent Pole. She has been down three times, and the matron reports that she is a nice girl and not at all flighty. My own impression of her is the same.’



‘Then it comes to this, Mr Cherrell: in your view a mistake has been made in this case?’

‘Yes, sir; I am convinced of it.’

The girl in the dock put her handkerchief to her eyes. And Dinny felt, suddenly, indignant at the extreme wretchedness of her position. To stand there before all those people, even if she had done as they said! And why shouldn’t a girl ask a man for his companionship? He wasn’t obliged to give it.

The tall policeman stirred, looked down at her, as if scenting unorthodoxy, and cleared his throat.

‘Thank you, Mr Cherrell.’

Hilary stepped out of the witness box and in doing so caught sight of his niece and waved a finger. Dinny became aware that the case was over, the magistrate making up his mind. He sat perfectly silent, pressing his finger-tips together and staring at the girl, who had finished mopping her eyes and was staring back at him. Dinny held her breath. On the next minute – a life, perhaps, hung in the balance! The tall policeman changed his feet. Was his sympathy with his fellow in the force, or with that girl? All the little noises in the Court had ceased, the only sound was the scratching of a pen. The magistrate held his finger-tips apart and spoke:

‘I am not satisfied that this case has been made out. The defendant will be dismissed. You may go.’

The girl made a little choking sound. To her right the candlestick-maker uttered a hoarse: ‘’Ear! ’ear!’

‘ ’Ush!’ said the tall policeman. Dinny saw her uncle walking out beside the girl; he smiled as he passed.

‘Wait for me, Dinny – shan’t be two minutes!’

Slipping out behind the tall policeman, Dinny waited in the lobby. The nature of things around gave her the shuddery feeling one had turning up the light in a kitchen at night; the scent of Condy’s Fluid assailed her nostrils; she moved nearer to the outer door. A police sergeant said:

‘Anything I can do for you, Miss?’

‘Thank you, I’m waiting for my uncle; he’s just coming.’

‘The reverend gentleman?’

Dinny nodded.

‘Ah! He’s a good man, is the Vicar. That girl got off?’

‘Yes.’

‘Well! Mistakes will ’appen. Here he is Miss.’

Hilary came up and put his arm through Dinny’s.