A MOTHER.
"Time wore on, and I became a mother. With the first gleam of maternal
hopes, such as thrilled my whole being with new-born happiness, I was
hastened into the country; and, in a remote estate seldom visited by the
family, gave birth to a son. My life was in great peril; a fever set in,
and for a week I wandered unconsciously on the very brink of the grave,
delirious, and sometimes wild. When reason came back, my father was
there: he told me that my child was dead.
"Alas, old man! mine was a dreary life after that. Honors and wealth
were showered on my father. By the death of his mother he became Earl of
Sefton, and one of the wealthiest peers in England; but all this was
embittered by the fact that I, who must inherit all these privileges,
was wedded to a man, as he persisted in believing, so utterly beneath
me. This thought seemed to pursue him like a demon. At times my very
presence appeared hateful to him; there was never affectionate
companionship between us. He was content that I should remain in the
solitude of the estate to which I had been consigned almost as a
prisoner, and I, still hoping against hope, was willing to live in
seclusion till my husband should claim me. For, strange as it may
appear, I had faith in the accomplishment of his promise, wild as it
seemed.
"One day--it was in the second year of my solitary life--Lord Sefton
came down to the country, after the rising of parliament; and for the
first time since the death of my child was announced to me spoke of
William Phipps.
"'Read this,' he said, placing a newspaper before me, 'and thank God
that the disgrace of your connection with that man is unknown.'
"I unfolded the paper. It contained a paragraph copied from an American
letter, dated two months back.
"How I read this paragraph through--the agony of fear that possessed
me--I cannot tell; but every word of the cruel statement reached my
heart. My husband was dead--lost at sea! I was a widow.
"This mournful knowledge broke up my life. Even my father was terrified
by the state of dejection into which I fell. Thinking that it was only
the promptings of compassion that induced him to take me away from
England, I was grateful. We travelled for years through Europe, into
Egypt and the Holy Land. Sometimes we rested in one place for months and
months together; then again we would make long sea-voyages, and visit
places far remote from the usual course of English travel. Among other
countries we went to Bermuda and the West India islands, taking with us,
on our return, a young person, whose history I have no time to give, but
with whom my after-life has been strangely associated.
"We returned to England only a year ago. My father was an old man then.
I had left youth forever behind, and with it, all hopes of such
happiness as a woman's heart craves most. We had long since ceased to
talk of the past. It was a sealed subject between us, but as my father
drew near the grave, he became more tender and gentle in our
companionship.
"A few weeks after we returned to London, Lord Sefton was taken ill. The
disease ran its course rapidly, and in three days he was on his
death-bed. God forgive the old man! With his last breath he told me of
the terrible fraud that had been practised upon me. My husband was
living. He had achieved all that seemed audacious in his promise, and
had been in England years before to claim his wife. Then another fraud
was perpetrated, and they told him that I was dead.
"My father made this confession in broken gasps. I had no details, and
could scarcely gather the facts out of his imperfect speech. Something
more he would have told me, but death was inexorable, and the secret
died on his white lips.
"Thus, striving to retrieve the evil his pride had occasioned, my father
died and I became a peeress in my own right, the inheritor of more
wealth than I knew how to use. But, far above all, was the certainty
that my husband was alive, and had kept the noble promise of his youth.
"At last, my father, whose pride had widowed me while yet scarcely more
than a child, was laid with the cold and proud of his ancestors, dust
with their dust, and I, the inheritor of his estates, the lady of a
proud line, thought nothing of these things, but, urged by one wild
wish, turned from his very grave and set forth for America, searching
for the husband of my youth--the father of that child which had blessed
me for an hour and disappeared, but whose tomb I had never seen.
"Thus, full of hope, I pursued my voyage, counting every hour as a loss
till I once more saw the man who had been dearer to me when I thought
him beneath the waves than all the earth beside. Never had a voyage
seemed so long, and yet the wind was fair. How I wished the good ship
that bore us had wings! When a storm blew up hurling us westward, I
rejoiced, for through danger we should reach him the sooner. When a calm
overtook us my heart was restless with impatience. So much of life had
been spent away from him that I grudged each moment as a treasure
forfeited.
"Oh, how I loved him, myself, and all the world! I had worshipped him as
a girl--you know a little how much. But what was that to the holy
affection of mature womanhood, to the yearning tenderness that filled my
soul and kindled up every bright idea in my brain that it might do him
homage? I thought of the change years must have made in him--not to
regret that he was no longer young, but feeling how much grander he
would be with age on his brow and a consciousness of power in his
bearing.
"On the passage I had thought of myself differently. Sometimes I would
look at my hands and wonder if they had lost any thing of the symmetry
and whiteness he once so much admired. When I found a few silver hairs
dimming the tresses he had praised for their golden hue, it would make
me sad; for love grows timid sometimes as it deepens, and though I cared
not for his departed youth, every grace that had fled with mine was
remembered with regret. But I recalled his last words and had faith in
him. For his sake I would have gifted myself with perpetual youth and
immortal beauty. There was no good thing on earth or in heaven that I
would not gladly have brought him.
"Had it been possible, I would have gathered up sunlit colors from the
sky and those rare tints that sparkle in the ocean for his sake. I had
never given much thought to the titles and possessions which had fallen
to me, but now they grew precious in my estimation, for all that I had
was his.
"We came in sight of the coast in the midst of an awful storm, and
buffeted by the elements that seemed striving to force me back from my
fate. I thought nothing of that. The tedious voyage was over. The land
which he governed hove in sight. In a day--in an hour--it was possible
to see him. The thought filled me with wild impatience. For the universe
I could not have remained on board that ship one half-hour after she
cast her anchor.
"The captain and crew expostulated with me, but it was impossible to
heed their reasonings with the shore in sight. Careless of danger and
with my heart fairly singing with secret hopes, I descended into that
boat, with the waves leaping and roaring around it. I had no fear, after
suffering so much; it seemed impossible to die within reach of him. You
know the rest: it was your hand that dragged me from the breakers, yours
and Norman's.
"God sent you to the shore that day, Samuel Parris. I felt it then, I
feel it now. Had the waves swallowed me I should have died with a sweet
hope in my heart, and the struggle would have been hard. But now that
all is lost--nay, nay, I shudder yet!"