MY MOTHER AND THE SQUIRE.
From that hour I became a prey to constant remorse. My health declined,
and my mother at last remarked the change in my appearance; but at that
time I am certain she had no idea of the cause.
"Noah," said she, one night, as we were crouching over the fire, for it
was winter, and very cold,--"you are much changed of late. You look ill,
and out of spirits; you eat little, and speak less. My dear son, what in
the world ails you?"
"I am tired of this place, Mother. I should like to sell off, and go to
America."
"And leave me for ever?"
"You, of course, would go with me."
"Never!" said my mother, emphatically. "Of all places in the world, I
cannot go there."
I looked up inquiringly.
"I will give you my reasons," she continued. "Listen to me, Noah. I have
never told you anything about myself; but, before I die, it is only
right that you should know all. My husband, whose name you bear, is
not, to my knowledge, dead. If living, he is in America."
"Oh, that I had been his son!" I groaned; "but, Mother,
proceed--proceed."
"To make matters intelligible to you, it is necessary that I should go
back to my early days. I was the only child of a poor shoemaker in St.
Alban's. My father was reckoned a good hand at his trade, but he was
sadly addicted to drink. For ten years before he died, I never remember
his going one night to his bed sober. My poor mother was a neat, quiet
little woman, who did all in her power to keep things straight. But
first one piece of household furniture went, and then another, until we
were left with bare walls and an empty cupboard.
"'Annie,' said my mother, 'this won't do. You must go out and work for
your living: you cannot stay at home and starve.'
"'And you, Mother?'
"'God will take care of me, my child. I cannot leave your father. I must
work for him: he is my husband; and, in spite of this dreadful vice, I
love him still.'
"Her constancy and patient endurance under a thousand privations was
wonderful.
"I was reckoned a very pretty girl: all the neighbours said so, and I
thought so myself. They were sorry for our altered circumstances. They
respected my mother; and, though they blamed my father, they pitied him
as well as blamed (he had been a general favourite before he became lost
to himself and us,) and did all in their power to assist my mother in
her distress. One of these sympathising friends was the dressmaker
employed by the great lady of the parish. This woman got me into service
as waiting-maid to the young ladies at the Grange.
"Miss Elinor Landsmeer was on the eve of marriage with Mr. Carlos; and
she used to talk to me a great deal about her lover, while I was
dressing her hair of a night. 'He was so handsome,' she said, 'so
good-natured and merry! He danced and sang so well, rode so gallantly,
and was such a capital shot. He was admired and courted by all the
ladies; and she considered herself the most fortunate girl in the world
to have secured the affections of such a charming young man. And then,
Annie, besides all these advantages of person and manners, he is so
_rich_--so _immensely rich_, he can indulge me in my taste for pictures
and books, and dress, without ruining himself. Oh, I shall be so
happy--so happy!'--and then she would clap her little white hands, and
laugh in childish glee. And very young she was, and very pretty
too,--not a showy sort of beauty, but soft and gentle,--not gay and
dashing, like some of her elder sisters. They were all engaged to men of
rank and fashion; and they laughed at Miss Elinor for marrying an
untitled man. But she was so much in love with Mr. Carlos, that she was
as happy as a lark.
"When I saw Mr. Carlos, I thought she was, indeed, a fortunate young
lady; and I could not help envying her the handsome rich lover who was
so soon to make her his wife.
"I always liked waiting on my pretty young lady; but I felt a double
pleasure in doing so when Mr. Carlos was by. He often joked Miss Elinor
on my good looks, and would ask her 'if she was not jealous of her
pretty waiting-maid?'
"'Oh, no,' she would laughingly reply. 'I am like you, Walter,--I don't
like ugly people about me. Annie is as good as she looks. Cannot you
find a good husband for her among your tenants?'
"'I'll do my best,' said he, in the same bantering tone. 'By the by,
Annie--if that is your name--what do you think of my valet, Mr. Noah
Cotton?'
"'What an antiquated name!'--and my mistress laughed out. 'Was he
brought up in the ark?'
"'Names go by contraries, my dear,' said Mr. Carlos. 'Noah is a deuced
handsome fellow; not soft, as his name would imply, but shrewd and
clever--as sharp as a needle. I think he would suit Annie exactly; and
you and I will stand godfather and godmother for all the little Shems,
Hams and Japheths they may happen to place in their ark.'
"'Fie, Walter, fie! You make Annie blush like a rose. Look at him,
Annie, the next time he comes in, and tell me what you think of the fine
husband Mr. Carlos has provided for you.'
"'Oh, Miss Elinor,' I cried, dropping a low curtsey, 'it is very kind of
Mr. Carlos; but I never look at the servants. I am too young to marry.'
"But I did look at Mr. Cotton. He was very attentive to me, and I soon
thought him all that his master had said he was. I did not love him, but
I foolishly imagined that it was a fine thing to have a sweetheart, and
to be married, like my young mistress. And Noah Cotton was a farmer's
son, and better educated than most people in our class. He had a good
place, and was a great favourite with his master, and could afford to
keep me very comfortably. So, when he told me that he preferred me to
all the girls he had ever seen, and asked me to marry him, I said that I
would consult my mistress, and, if she approved of it, I had not the
least objection. Miss Elinor was enchanted with it. She said, it would
be capital; that we should be married on the same day with her and Mr.
Carlos; that she would buy my wedding-suit, and the Squire would pay the
parson the fees; and that we should go with them abroad, in the same
capacity we then held.
"And it all took place as she promised. I was dressed in white muslin,
trimmed with white ribbons, and just one moss rose-bud in my bosom, and
another in my hair. Miss Elinor put them in herself; and then, when I
was dressed, she took my hands in hers, and turned me all round, to see
that all was neat and nice; and she kissed my forehead, and said that I
looked charming,--that any man might be proud of such a little wife; and
she called her own bridegroom into her dressing-room, to come and look
at me before I went to church.
"Mr. Carlos seemed quite struck with my appearance, and declared 'that I
looked as handsome as my mistress; that Noah was a very fortunate
fellow; and if he had not been going to marry his own dear Elinor, he
would have married me himself.'
"This was all a joke then. My mistress did not like it, however. She did
not laugh, and looked very grave for some minutes, and was very hard to
please for some days after the wedding.
"It did not strike me then, for I was too happy and too vain to think of
anything but myself; but it has often struck me since, that Mrs. Carlos
was jealous of me from that hour.
"Mr. Carlos took his bride to Italy, and we went with them to a great
many different countries and large cities. It was rather dull for me,
for I could not speak the strange outlandish lingo of those foreign
lands; and by the time one began to know a few words, we were off to
another place, where we were as ignorant as we were before.
"After the first three months of our marriage, my husband grew very
cross, and was jealous of every man who spoke civilly to me, though, God
knows, at that time I was very fond of him, and never gave him the least
cause for his suspicions. He was an obstinate, stern-tempered man, a
strict Presbyterian, and very averse to any innocent amusements, in
which I greatly delighted. Thus matters went on from day to day, until I
not only ceased to love him, but wished, from my very heart, that I had
never married him. I no longer tried to please him, but did all in my
power to vex and aggravate him, in the hope that he would put a
favourite threat of his in practice, and run away and leave me.
"My master always reprimanded my husband when he spoke sharply to me,
and told him that he was not worthy of such a treasure; but his
interference only made matters worse.
"I often complained to Mrs. Carlos of Noah's cruel treatment, but she
always excused him, and said that it was _I_ that was to blame; that I
made crimes out of every little freak of temper, and that, instead of
conciliating my husband, I made the breach wider by insults and
reproaches, and took no pains to please him; that if she was to behave
in the same way to Mr. Carlos, she should not wonder at his disliking
her.
"These observations wounded my pride. I thought them cruel and unjust,
and I left her room in tears. Mr. Carlos met me on the stairs. I was
crying bitterly, partly out of anger, and partly in the hope of making
my mistress sorry for what she had said.
"He asked me what grieved me so, and I told him how I had been treated
by Noah, and described in exaggerated terms the reproof I had got from
his wife. Mr. Carlos pinched my cheek, and told me to dry my eyes, for
crying spoilt my beauty; and not to care for what Noah or my mistress
said to me; that he was my friend, and loved and respected me too much
to suffer me to be ill-used.
"I felt proud of my master's sympathy, and lost no opportunity to
increase it, and attract his attention. You may guess, my son, how all
this ended. My master conceived a violent passion for me, which I was
not slow in returning, and we carried on our intimacy with such
circumspection, that for two years it escaped the vigilant eyes of my
husband, and the fretful jealousy of my mistress. The fear of detection
made me very cautious in the presence of the injured parties. I appeared
more anxious to please my mistress, and more distant and respectful to
Mr. Carlos, while I bore with apparent patience and resignation the
ill-humour of my now detested husband. For the above-named period, both
were deceived, and it was during this season of crime and hypocrisy that
you, my son, were born. The startling resemblance you bore to your real
father did not escape my husband's observation, and called forth some of
his bitterest remarks.
"I, for my part, swore that the child was the image of him; and, in
order to lull his suspicions, conferred upon it the odious and hated
name of Noah.
"My mistress often visited my chamber during my confinement. Once, she
brought Mr. Carlos with her to see the baby. 'It is a beautiful little
cherub!' he cried, kissing it, with all his heart in his eyes, 'the
picture of Annie.'
"'You will laugh at me, Walter,' said my mistress gravely, 'but I think
the child is so like you!'
"She looked at him steadily in the face as she said this. I thought he
would have let the babe drop, he did so stammer and colour as he tried
to laugh her words off as a good joke. As to me, my face burnt like
fire, and I drew up the bed-clothes in order to conceal it. She looked
first at me, and then at Mr. Carlos. There needed no further witness of
our guilt. We were both convicted by conscience, yet boldly endeavoured
to affect indifference.
"'I see how it is,' she said, bursting into tears, 'you have both
cruelly wronged me. Yet, for this poor babe's sake, I pray God to
forgive you.'
"She kissed the infant with great tenderness (she never had one of her
own), laid it in the bed beside me, and withdrew in tears. My heart
smote me, and I wept too. The Squire bent over me, and kissing the tears
from my eyes, said in a whisper, 'Annie, the cat is out of the bag. My
darling, you cannot stay here. I will get a carriage, and take you to
London. You will be well taken care of, and I can see you whenever I
like, without the painful restraint we are forced to put upon our
actions here.'
"I did not answer. I was sorry for my mistress, and ashamed of my own
base conduct. At that moment I almost felt as if I hated him.
"It was some days before I was able to be moved from my bed; but I saw
my mistress no more. The girl who waited upon me, and who was well paid
by Mr. Carlos for her attendance, told me that she was very ill; that
the doctor visited her twice a-day, and said that she must be kept very
quiet, and nothing said or done to agitate her feelings; that she
believed her sickness was occasioned by a quarrel she had had with Mr.
Carlos, but she did not know what it was all about; the Squire had left
her room in a great rage, and was gone from home for a week.
"I felt certain that I was the cause of this illness, and that the
quarrel was about me, which made me very anxious to leave the house.
"That evening my husband came in to see me. He had been drinking freely.
He sat down by the bed-side, and looked cross and moodily at me. The
baby began to cry, and I asked him to hold it for me for a minute.
"'The hateful brat!' he said, 'I would rather wring its neck.'
"'What an affectionate father!' I cried.
"'Father!' he burst out in a voice of thunder. 'Will you dare to call
_me_ the father of this child?'
"'Of course it is your child.'
"'Annie, 'tis a base lie,' he said, bending down to my pillow, and
hissing the words into my ear. 'Mr. Carlos is the father of this child,
and you cannot look me in the face and deny it. Has not God brought
against you a witness of your guilt in the face of this bastard, whom
you have called by my name, to add insult to injury? I could kill both
you and it, did I not know that that would be but a poor revenge. No;
live to deserve his scorn as you have done to deserve mine, and may this
child be your punishment and curse!'
"I cowered before his just and furious anger. I saw it was useless
longer to deny the truth, still more useless to entreat his forgiveness
for the injury I had done him; and I drew a freer breath when he
tauntingly informed me, 'that this meeting was our last. That he no
longer looked upon me as his wife; that he had loved me faithfully, and
I had dishonoured him; and he had taken his passage for America, and
would leave England for ever the next morning.'
"He was true to his word. He left me, with hatred in his heart and scorn
upon his lips, and I have never heard from him or seen him since.
"Mr. Carlos and I rejoiced at his departure, for he was the only person
from whose anger we had anything to dread. My poor mistress suffered in
silence. She never made her wrongs known to her own family or to the
world.
"Mr. Carlos hired lodgings for me in London, where I lived until his
wife died, which event took place a few weeks after I quitted the house.
Her death, for awhile, greatly affected the Squire, and for several
months he appeared restless and unhappy. Once he said to me very
sorrowfully,--it was a few days after her funeral,--'Annie, my wife was
an angel. My love for you broke her heart. With her last breath she
forgave me, and begged me to be kind to you and the child. I was not
worthy of her. I wish from my very soul that I had never seen you.'
"These words made me very unhappy, for I adored Mr. Carlos, and dreaded
the least diminution of his regard; and I could not help feeling deep
remorse for the share I had had in the untimely death of my beautiful
young mistress. I grew sad and melancholy, and Mr. Carlos, who really
loved me and my child better than anything in the world, and would have
married me had my husband's death rendered that event possible, brought
me down to F----, and established me at the porter's lodge, where he
could see and converse with me every day. It was well known in the
neighbourhood on what footing I stood with the Squire, though you, my
poor boy, never suspected the fact. You may now perceive, Noah, how
great has been our loss in Mr. Carlos. I have lost a kind friend and
protector, a husband in everything but the name, and you an affectionate
friend and father. Do not urge me to leave this place. When I die I wish
my bones to lie in the same churchyard with his, although his rank
hinders me from sharing his grave."
My mother ceased speaking, and sat with her hands folded complacently in
her lap, and I glared upon her for some time in gloomy silence. She
appeared tranquil, scarcely conscious of the crimes she had committed.
Was she not as much a murderess as I was a murderer, with only this
difference, that I had struck my victim suddenly and quickly,--she had
tortured hers for two whole years, until she sank broken-hearted into
her grave; and had not her sin been the parent of my own? Then I thought
of her husband's terrible curse, "May that child live to be your
punishment!" Was not the fearful prediction already fulfilled, although
she was ignorant of it? I cannot say that I felt glad that she was no
better than her son, but it seemed a palliation of my own guilt.
My mother was annoyed by my long silence. "What are you thinking about,
Noah?"
"The shocking story you have just told me. I did not think it possible,
Mother, that you could be so bad."
"What do you mean?" she cried out angrily.
"I mean what I say. If this story does not lower you in your own eyes,
it does in mine. Mother, I have always respected and venerated you till
this moment; I can do so no longer. For, mark me, Mother, as the tree
is, so is the fruit. How can you expect me, the offspring of such guilt,
ever to be a good man?"
"Noah, this is strange language from you! Thank God! you have done
nothing at present to cause me shame or reproach."
"You don't know what I have done--what this confession of yours may
tempt me to do. God knows, I would rather have been the son of the
despised and injured man whose name I bear, than the bastard of the
silken reprobate it was your shame to love."
"Oh, Noah! do not speak thus of your own father."
"Curse him! He has already met with his reward. And your sin, Mother,
will yet find you out."
I sprang from my chair to leave the room: my mother laid her hand upon
my arm: her eyes were brimful of tears.
"Noah, I have not deserved this treatment from you. Whatever my faults
may have been, I have been a kind mother to you."
She looked so piteous through her tears that, savage as I felt, my heart
reproached me for my harsh, cruel speech. I kissed her pale cheek and
sighed, "I forgive you, my poor mother. I would that God could as easily
pardon us both; but He is just as well as merciful, and we are great
sinners."
She looked enquiringly at me, as I lighted the candle, and strode up to
bed.