A STARTLING DISCOVERY.
IN one of his novels Balzac makes the pertinent remark that "It is
impossible for man to understand the heart of woman, seeing that her
Creator himself does not understand it." These are not the precise
words, but the sentiment is the same. And who, indeed, can understand a
woman's heart; who can aver that he has a complete comprehension of her
character? Very young men lay claim to such knowledge, but as they grow
older, and the vanity of youth gives way to the modesty begotten by
experience, they no longer pretend to such omniscience, and humbly admit
their inability to solve the riddle of femininity. Had the Sphinx
proposed such an enigma to oedipus he would not have been able to guess
it, and so, meeting the fate of other victims, would have deprived
Thebes of a king and Sophicles of a tragedy.
Yet, if we bear in mind that women work rather from impulse than from
motive, we may arrive at some knowledge of the organ in question. If a
woman is impulsive, and most women are, she acts directly on those
impulses; and so startles men by paradoxical actions. As a rule, the
male intellect has logical reasons wherefrom it deduces motives upon
which to act. Not so with women. They obey the impulse of the moment,
reckless of the consequence to themselves or to anyone else.
Consequently, it is impossible to foretell how a woman will act in a
given circumstance, but it may be asserted that she will obey the latest
thought in her mind. Even from this point of view, the feminine mind is
still a riddle; but one which is more capable of explanation.
For example, Mrs. Bezel read "A Whim of Fate," and thus, after
five-and-twenty years, the Horriston tragedy was freshly impressed on
her brain. Seized with remorse, terrified by the memory of the crime,
she, acting on the impulse, wrote to Hilliston stating that she intended
to see Claude Larcher and reveal all. The dismay of the lawyer at this
mad proposal, and his steady opposition thereto, turned what was
originally a mere whim into a fixed idea. She saw a way of punishing the
man for the withdrawal of his love ten years before, when she lost her
beauty and became paralyzed. Delighted at learning that she had still
some power to wound him, she persisted in her project, and so wrote the
letter to Larcher, which he received the day after his arrival in
London.
To baffle Hilliston, and prevent him from intercepting the letter, she
was obliged to use all her wits, and so hit on the idea of learning the
name of the young man's club. How she managed to obtain it is best known
to herself; but Hilliston, never dreaming of this pertinacity, was
unable to thwart her schemes, and, beyond writing to Claude, telling him
to call, could do nothing. Had he guessed that she would address her
invitation to the club, he might have called and obtained it in the
character of Larcher's guardian; but, knowing her helpless condition,
the thought that it might be there never entered his mind. So the letter
arrived, was duly answered, and Claude was coming to-day at three
o'clock to hear what Mrs. Bezel had to say.
The visit, though due to her own action, was a source of considerable
anxiety; for she was not at all certain of what she would say. It was
impossible to tell all without inculpating Hilliston, and this, for
reasons of her own, Mrs. Bezel was unwilling to do. All her talk of the
previous night had been so much rodomontade to frighten the man she
hated, but she was too well aware of her dependent position to think of
doing him an injury. Her impulse had led her into deep water, as she
knew instinctively.
She was a woman who had lived every moment of her life, but now,
stretched on a bed of sickness, she missed her former triumphs and
excitements. This visit promised a great deal of amusement, and the use
of much diplomacy, therefore she was unwilling to abandon her plans. At
the same time she determined to give the young man as little information
as she possibly could. It would not be through her agency that the mask
would be torn from Hilliston's face. She was resolved on that point.
Yet the matter, starting originally from an impulse, had now gone too
far for her to draw back. Claude had seen the papers, and therefrom must
have guessed that she desired to impart certain information with regard
to the crime which had cost him a father. Mrs. Bezel therefore
compromised the matter, and settled in her own mind to tell him half the
truth, or, at all events, only sufficient to interest him without aiding
him. Had she been a man, and had taken this decision, all would have
gone well, but being a woman she reckoned without her impulse, and it
betrayed her.
Moreover, she had a revelation to make which would effectively tie
Larcher's hands should he learn too much; but this she did not intend to
make unless driven into a corner. She was in that corner before the
interview was finished, though she little expected to get there.
Hilliston, clever as he was, could not understand her present actions;
she did not understand them herself, else she would not have ventured to
receive Claude Larcher.
He duly arrived at three o'clock, and Mrs. Bezel glanced approvingly at
his stalwart figure and handsome face. Claude had one of those
sympathetic, yet manly, natures, to which women are instinctively drawn
by the law of sex, and Mrs. Bezel proved no exception to this rule. She
was too thoroughly a woman not to relish masculine society, and, despite
her perplexity, was glad she had sent the invitation, if only for the
sake of talking to this splendid looking young man. There was another
reason, which she revealed in a moment of impulse. But that was later
on.
Meanwhile Claude, seated by her couch in the window, was wondering who
she was, and why she had sought this interview. He was certainly aware
that she had some information to impart concerning the fate of his
parents, but as he had not seen her name in the papers containing the
account of the case, he was at a loss to fix her identity. His doubts
were soon set at rest. Mrs. Bezel was a more prominent actor in the
Horriston tragedy than he had any idea of.
"You were doubtless astonished to get my letter," said Mrs. Bezel, when
the first greetings were over, "especially as you do not remember your
parents, and my name is also unknown to you."
"Were you a friend of my parents, madam?" asked Claude, too anxious for
information to reply directly to her remark.
"Yes. I--I knew them. That is, I lived at Horriston," stammered Mrs.
Bezel, passing a handkerchief across her dry lips.
"You lived at Horriston? At the time of the murder?"
Mrs. Bezel nodded; she was not yet sufficiently self-controlled for
speech.
"In that case," continued Claude eagerly, "you must know all the details
of the crime."
"Only those that were reported in the papers."
"Still you must be acquainted with those concerned in the tragedy. With
my father, with Jeringham, Denis Bantry, with Mona, his sister."
"Yes," said Mrs. Bezel calmly; "I knew them all."
"Have you any idea who committed the crime?"
"Not the slightest."
"But you must have some suspicions?"
"Oh, yes! But they may be wrong. I believe that Mr. Jeringham had
something to do with it."
"Oh!" said Claude, remembering Hilliston's opinion, "some believe him to
be guilty."
"I cannot say for certain," replied Mrs. Bezel, shaking her head. "The
flight of Mr. Jeringham certainly showed that he had something to
conceal."
"What kind of a man was Mr. Jeringham?"
"Tall and fair. Amiable as a rule, but liable to violent passions."
"Was he not in love with my mother before she married my father?"
Mrs. Bezel turned away her head, and the color rose to her face. The
nervous movement of her hands plucking at her dress showed how
profoundly she was moved by this question.
"I believe so. But she--Mrs. Larcher loved her husband."
"Then why was my father jealous of Jeringham?" said Claude, who could
not reconcile this statement with the evidence given at the trial.
"How should I know?" cried Mrs. Bezel, turning on him with sudden
passion. "If George Larcher had not been so blinded by jealousy he would
have seen that there was nothing between them. Your mother knew
Jeringham all his life; they were like brother and sister. It is true he
wished to marry her, but when he saw that her heart was given to your
father, he bowed to her decision. He came to Horriston as her friend,
not as her lover."
"But he was constantly with her."
"Do you dare to speak thus of your mother, sir?"
"I--I cannot help doing so," stammered Claude, startled by the anger in
her voice. "God knows I wish to revere the memory of my mother, but I
cannot help seeing that she was morally responsible for the tragedy."
"She was not! She was not!" said Mrs. Bezel vehemently. "How dare you
speak thus? Your father neglected her. He left her to the companionship
of Mark Jeringham, while he indulged in his predilection for literary
work. All day long he shut himself up in his study, and let his wife sit
alone, and miserable. Was it any wonder, then, that she should turn to
her old friend for consolation? There was nothing between them--nothing
to which any Pharisee could have taken exception."
"But surely my father was sufficiently sensible to see all this?"
"He saw nothing, or what he did see was distorted by his jealousy. The
police, in their endeavors to fix the crime on your mother, took the
same view of the relations between her and Jeringham. Oh, I know what
you read in those papers shown to you by Mr. Hilliston!"
So surprised was Claude by this unexpected introduction of his
guardian's name that he could not suppress a start.
"How do you know that Mr. Hilliston showed me the papers?"
Mrs. Bezel saw that she had said too much, but, unable to go back on her
words, rapidly resolved to make that revelation which she had hitherto
intended to keep as a last resource.
"Mr. Hilliston told me that he had done so."
"Do you know him?"
"Yes," said Mrs. Bezel, seizing her opportunity to lead up to the
revelation. "I know him as the best and kindest of men. I know him as
one who has been a good friend to you--orphan as you thought yourself."
"Orphan as I thought myself," muttered Claude, turning pale. "Is it not
true--am I not an orphan?"
"No!"
"Great Heavens! What is this you tell me? My father----"
"Your father is dead. He was murdered, as you know."
"Then my mother?"
Mrs. Bezel looked at the agonized face of the young man, and covered her
own, with a quick indrawn breath.
"She lives!"
"My mother! She lives! Are you mad? She died in London shortly after her
acquittal."
"So it was supposed, but it was not true. Could you expect that unhappy
woman to face the scorn and contempt of the world after having been
accused of her husband's murder? She did not die, save to the world. She
fled from society and sought refuge here--here where she lies a helpless
invalid."
"Mrs. Bezel!"
"I am not Mrs. Bezel. I am your mother."
"God! My mother!"