Attention was then drawn to the honorable manner in which Byron had
come forward and given himself up to the police the moment he became
aware that they were in search of him. Paradise would, beyond a
doubt, have adopted the same course had he not been arrested at
once, and that, too, without the least effort at resistance on his
part. That was hardly the line of conduct that would have suggested
itself to two lawless prize-fighters.

An attempt had been made to prejudice the prisoner Byron by the
statement that he was a notorious professional bruiser. But no proof
of that was forthcoming; and if the fact were really notorious there
could be no difficulty in proving it. Such notoriety as Mr. Byron
enjoyed was due, as appeared from the evidence of Lord Worthington
and others, to his approaching marriage to a lady of distinction.
Was it credible that a highly connected gentleman in this enviable
position would engage in a prize-fight, risking disgrace and
personal disfigurement, for a sum of money that could be no object
to him, or for a glory that would appear to all his friends as
little better than infamy?

The whole of the evidence as to the character of the prisoners went
to show that they were men of unimpeachable integrity and
respectability. An impression unfavorable to Paradise might have
been created by the fact that he was a professional pugilist and a
man of hasty temper; but it had also transpired that he had on
several occasions rendered assistance to the police, thereby
employing his skill and strength in the interests of law and order.
As to his temper, it accounted for the quarrel which the
police--knowing his profession--had mistaken for a prize-fight.

Mellish was a trainer of athletes, and hence the witnesses to his
character were chiefly persons connected with sport; but they were
not the less worthy of credence on that account.

In fine, the charge would have been hard to believe even if
supported by the strongest evidence. But when there was no
evidence--when the police had failed to produce any of the
accessories of a prize-fight--when there were no ropes nor
posts--no written articles--no stakes nor stakeholders--no seconds
except the unfortunate man Mellish, whose mouth was closed by a law
which, in defiance of the obvious interests of justice, forbade a
prisoner to speak and clear himself--nothing, in fact, but the
fancies of constables who had, under cross-examination, not only
contradicted one another, but shown the most complete ignorance (a
highly creditable ignorance) of the nature and conditions of a
prize-fight; then counsel would venture to say confidently that the
theory of the prosecution, ingenious as it was, and ably as it had
been put forward, was absolutely and utterly untenable.

This, and much more argument of equal value, was delivered with
relish by a comparatively young barrister, whose spirits rose as he
felt the truth change and fade while he rearranged its attendant
circumstances. Cashel listened for some time anxiously. He flushed
and looked moody when his marriage was alluded to; but when the
whole defence was unrolled, he was awestruck, and stared at his
advocate as if he half feared that the earth would gape and swallow
such a reckless perverter of patent facts. Even the judge in the
city; and was eventually invited to represent a Dorsetshire
constituency in Parliament in the Radical interest. He was returned
by a large majority; and, having a loud voice and an easy manner, he
soon acquired some reputation both in and out of the House of
Commons by the popularity of his own views, and the extent of his
wife's information, which he retailed at second hand. He made his
maiden speech in the House unabashed the first night he sat there.
Indeed, he was afraid of nothing except burglars, big dogs, doctors,
dentists, and street-crossings. Whenever any accident occurred
through any of these he preserved the newspaper in which it was
reported, read it to Lydia very seriously, and repeated his favorite
assertion that the only place in which a man was safe was the ring.
As he objected to most field sports on the ground of inhumanity,
she, fearing that he would suffer in health and appearance from want
of systematic exercise, suggested that he should resume the practice
of boxing with gloves. But he was lazy in this matter, and had a
prejudice that boxing did not become a married man. His career as a
pugilist was closed by his marriage.

His admiration for his wife survived the ardor of his first love for
her, and she employed all her forethought not to disappoint his
reliance on her judgment. She led a busy life, and wrote some
learned monographs, as well as a work in which she denounced
education as practised in the universities and public schools. Her
children inherited her acuteness and refinement with their father's
robustness and aversion to study. They were precocious and impudent,
had no respect for Cashel, and showed any they had for their mother
principally by running to her when they were in difficulties. She
never punished nor scolded them; but she contrived to make their
misdeeds recoil naturally upon them so inevitably that they soon
acquired a lively moral sense which restrained them much more
effectually than the usual methods of securing order in the nursery.
Cashel treated them kindly for the purpose of conciliating them; and
when Lydia spoke of them to him in private, he seldom said more than
that the imps were too sharp for him, or that he was blest if he
didn't believe that they were born older than their father. Lydia
often thought so too; but the care of this troublesome family had
one advantage for her. It left her little time to think about
herself, or about the fact that when the illusion of her love passed
away Cashel fell in her estimation. But the children were a success;
and she soon came to regard him as one of them. When she had leisure
to consider the matter at all, which seldom occurred, it seemed to
her that, on the whole, she had chosen wisely.

Alice Goff, when she heard of Lydia's projected marriage, saw that
she must return to Wiltstoken, and forget her brief social splendor
as soon as possible. She therefore thanked Miss Carew for her
bounty, and begged to relinquish her post of companion. Lydia
assented, but managed to delay this sacrifice to a sense of duty and
necessity until a day early in winter, when Lucian gave way to a
hankering after smiled once or twice; and when he did so the jurymen
grinned, but recovered their solemnity suddenly when the bench
recollected itself and became grave again. Every one in court knew
that the police were right--that there had been a prize-fight--that
the betting on it had been recorded in all the sporting papers for
weeks beforehand--that Cashel was the most terrible fighting man of
the day, and that Paradise had not dared to propose a renewal of the
interrupted contest. And they listened with admiration and delight
while the advocate proved that these things were incredible and
nonsensical.

It remained for the judge to sweep away the defence, or to favor the
prisoners by countenancing it. Fortunately for them, he was an old
man; and could recall, not without regret, a time when the memory of
Cribb and Molyneux was yet green. He began his summing-up by telling
the jury that the police had failed to prove that the fight was a
prize-fight. After that, the public, by indulging in roars of
laughter whenever they could find a pretext for doing so without
being turned out of court, showed that they had ceased to regard the
trial seriously.

Finally the jury acquitted Mellish, and found Cashel and Paradise
guilty of a common assault. They were sentenced to two days'
imprisonment, and bound over to keep the peace for twelve months in
sureties of one hundred and fifty pounds each. The sureties were
forthcoming; and as the imprisonment was supposed to date from the
beginning of the sessions, the prisoners were at once released.






CHAPTER XVI





Miss Carew, averse to the anomalous relations of courtship, made as
little delay as possible in getting married. Cashel's luck was not
changed by the event. Bingley Byron died three weeks after the
ceremony (which was civic and private); and Cashel had to claim
possession of the property in Dorsetshire, in spite of his expressed
wish that the lawyers would take themselves and the property to the
devil, and allow him to enjoy his honeymoon in peace. The transfer
was not, however, accomplished at once. Owing to his mother's
capricious reluctance to give the necessary information without
reserve, and to the law's delay, his first child was born some time
before his succession was fully established and the doors of his
ancestral hall opened to him. The conclusion of the business was a
great relief to his attorneys, who had been unable to shake his
conviction that the case was clear enough, but that the referee had
been squared. By this he meant that the Lord Chancellor had been
bribed to keep him out of his property.

His marriage proved an unusually happy one. To make up for the loss
of his occupation, he farmed, and lost six thousand pounds by it;
tried gardening with better success; began to meddle in commercial
enterprises, and became director of several trading companies in the
city; and was eventually invited to represent a Dorsetshire
constituency in Parliament in the Radical interest. He was returned
by a large majority; and, having a loud voice and an easy manner, he
soon acquired some reputation both in and out of the House of
Commons by the popularity of his own views, and the extent of his
wife's information, which he retailed at second hand. He made his
maiden speech in the House unabashed the first night he sat there.
Indeed, he was afraid of nothing except burglars, big dogs, doctors,
dentists, and street-crossings. Whenever any accident occurred
through any of these he preserved the newspaper in which it was
reported, read it to Lydia very seriously, and repeated his favorite
assertion that the only place in which a man was safe was the ring.
As he objected to most field sports on the ground of inhumanity,
she, fearing that he would suffer in health and appearance from want
of systematic exercise, suggested that he should resume the practice
of boxing with gloves. But he was lazy in this matter, and had a
prejudice that boxing did not become a married man. His career as a
pugilist was closed by his marriage.

His admiration for his wife survived the ardor of his first love for
her, and she employed all her forethought not to disappoint his
reliance on her judgment. She led a busy life, and wrote some
learned monographs, as well as a work in which she denounced
education as practised in the universities and public schools. Her
children inherited her acuteness and refinement with their father's
robustness and aversion to study. They were precocious and impudent,
had no respect for Cashel, and showed any they had for their mother
principally by running to her when they were in difficulties. She
never punished nor scolded them; but she contrived to make their
misdeeds recoil naturally upon them so inevitably that they soon
acquired a lively moral sense which restrained them much more
effectually than the usual methods of securing order in the nursery.
Cashel treated them kindly for the purpose of conciliating them; and
when Lydia spoke of them to him in private, he seldom said more than
that the imps were too sharp for him, or that he was blest if he
didn't believe that they were born older than their father. Lydia
often thonght so too; but the care of this troublesome family had
one advantage for her. It left her little time to think about
herself, or about the fact that when the illusion of her love passed
away Cashel fell in her estimation. But the children were a success;
and she soon came to regard him as one of them. When she had leisure
to consider the matter at all, which seldom occurred, it seemed to
her that, on the whole, she had chosen wisely.

Alice Goff, when she heard of Lydia's projected marriage, saw that
she must return to Wiltstoken, and forget her brief social splendor
as soon as possible. She therefore thanked Miss Carew for her
bounty, and begged to relinquish her post of companion. Lydia
assented, but managed to delay this sacrifice to a sense of duty and
necessity until a day early in winter, when Lucian gave way to a
hankering after domestic joys that possessed him, and allowed his
cousin to persuade him to offer his hand to Alice. She indignantly
refused--not that she had any reason to complain of him, but because
the prospect of returning to Wiltstoken made her feel ill used, and
she could not help revenging her soreness upon the first person whom
she could find a pretext for attacking. He, lukewarm before, now
became eager, and she was induced to relent without much difficulty.
Lucian was supposed to have made a brilliant match; and, as it
proved, he made a fortunate one. She kept his house, entertained his
guests, and took charge of his social connections so ably that in
course of time her invitations came to be coveted by people who were
desirous of moving in good society. She was even better looking as a
matron than she had been as a girl; and her authority in matters of
etiquette inspired nervous novices with all the terrors she had
herself felt when she first visited Wiltstoken Castle. She invited
her brother-in-law and his wife to dinner twice a year--at midsummer
and Easter; but she never admitted that either Wallace Parker or
Cashel Byron were gentlemen, although she invited the latter freely,
notwithstanding the frankness with which he spoke to strangers after
dinner of his former exploits, without deference to their
professions or prejudices. Her respect for Lydia remained so great
that she never complained to her of Cashel save on one occasion,
when he had shown a bishop, whose house had been recently broken
into and robbed, how to break a burglar's back in the act of
grappling with him.

The Skenes returned to Australia and went their way there, as Mrs.
Byron did in England, in the paths they had pursued for years
before. Cashel spoke always of Mrs. Skene as "mother," and of Mrs.
Byron as "mamma."

William Paradise, though admired by the fair sex for his strength,
courage, and fame, was not, like Cashel and Skene, wise or fortunate
enough to get a good wife. He drank so exceedingly that he had but
few sober intervals after his escape from the law. He claimed the
title of champion of England on Cashel's retirement from the ring,
and challenged the world. The world responded in the persons of
sundry young laboring men with a thirst for glory and a taste for
fighting. Paradise fought and prevailed twice. Then he drank while
in training, and was beaten. But by this time the ring had again
fallen into the disrepute from which Cashel's unusual combination of
pugilistic genius with honesty had temporarily raised it; and the
law, again seizing Paradise as he was borne vanquished from the
field, atoned for its former leniency by incarcerating him for six
months. The abstinence thus enforced restored him to health and
vigor; and he achieved another victory before he succeeded in
drinking himself into his former state. This was his last triumph.
With his natural ruffianism complicated by drunkenness, he went
rapidly down the hill into the valley of humiliation. After becoming
noted for his readiness to sell the victories he could no longer
win, he only appeared in the ring to test the capabilities of
untried youths, who beat him to their hearts' content. He became a
potman, and was immediately discharged as an inebriate. He had sunk
into beggary when, hearing in his misery that his former antagonist
was contesting a parliamentary election, he applied to him for alms.
Cashel at the time was in Dorsetshire; but Lydia relieved the
destitute wretch, whose condition was now far worse than it had been
at their last meeting. At his next application, which followed soon,
he was confronted by Cashel, who bullied him fiercely, threatened to
break every bone in his skin if he ever again dared to present
himself before Lydia, flung him five shillings, and bade him be
gone. For Cashel retained for Paradise that contemptuous and
ruthless hatred in which a duly qualified professor holds a quack.
Paradise bought a few pence-worth of food, which he could hardly
eat, and spent the rest in brandy, which he drank as fast as his
stomach would endure it. Shortly afterwards a few sporting papers
reported his death, which they attributed to "consumption, brought
on by the terrible injuries sustained by him in his celebrated fight
with Cashel Byron."