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Updated: May 20, 2025
From time to time mention is made of the pebbles, but not a syllable of the powder. Why not of the one as well as of the other, if there had not been a mystery concealed in it? Preparation is made for an experiment of its power before Cranstoun's departure.
And what woman, let her have what sense she will, can stand the arguments and persuasions men will make use of? Don't think that by this I mean, that I ever was, or could have been persuaded to hurt one hair of my poor father's head. No; what I mean is Cranstoun's baseness and art, in making me believe that those powders were innocent, and would make my father love him.
It appears from this pathetic interview that the old man purposely treated her as Cranstoun's innocent dupe, to shield her, if possible, from the consequences of her guilt, of which, in the circumstances, he could have entertained no doubt. Meanwhile Dr.
Stevens, the prisoner's uncle, who did not come till Friday night; I told him then, and he desired me to tell Mr. Blandy of it. Did you ever say anything of it to Miss Blandy? No, I did not. Pray, what conversation passed between her father and her down upon her knees, &c.? She said, "Sir, how do you do?" He said, "I am very ill." Was anything said about Mr. Cranstoun's addresses to her?
Cranstoun's proposal I answered, "I won't, Cranstoun, do you so much injury, as well as myself; for my father never will forgive it, nor give me a farthing." To which he replied, "There will be no occasion to discover it, but upon such an interesting event; and then surely, if you love me, you will suffer anything rather than part with me. What would I not suffer for you!"
Before him rises the ghost of Miss Mary Blandy, saying, "My Honour, Cra s ruin'd me." The ghost of her mother rising at the side of the platform, and wringing her hands in pain, replies, "Child he's Married!" At Cranstoun's feet is an advertisement of "Scotch Powder to cure the Itch."
"The deevil tak' the ball," impatiently retorted Cranstoun, who did not seem to relish the allusion; "doont talk aboot it noo, mon." "What was it, Villiers? do pray tell us. Something good, I am sure from Cranstoun's manner," eagerly asked the aid-de-camp, his curiosity excited by the general titter that followed the remark.
I am, Sr. your most obedient & most humble Servant, Rt. Honble. Mr. Pitt, Paymaster-General. Mr. Fox to Mr. Pitt directing the Half Pay of Lieut. Willm. Henry Cranstoun to be Stopt. Ent. No. 1 W.P. Fo. 11. I. Cranstoun's Own Version of the Facts. Let us now return to Capt.
"What," asked Gerald, with an unfeigned surprise, when the laugh against Middlemore had subsided; "and is it really in his own wine that you have all thus been courteously pledging Captain Cranstoun's death?"
He told her, "very hard," unless she could support her story by the production of Cranstoun's letters. "Dear Mr. Fisher," said she, "I am afraid I have burnt some that would have brought him to justice. My honour to him will prove my ruin." If the letters afforded sufficient proof of Cranstoun's criminous intent, it hardly appears how the fact rhymes to Mary's innocence.
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