EXPIATION.
What fools are they who think God ever sleeps,
Or views their follies with a careless eye.
Fortune may heap her favours on their heads.
Blithe Pleasure lull them with her jingling bells,
And life for them be one long carnival;
But in their triumph of prosperity,
When all the smiling future seems serene,
God; frowning, stretches out His mighty arm,
And lo! the hungry grave gapes at their feet.
So Mrs. Belswin was delivered from her great peril, and was taken home
by Kaituna and her lover with great rejoicing. Maxwell, indeed, after
hearing the story of this woman, had hesitated for a moment as to
whether he ought to let her be with her daughter, seeing that she had
forfeited her maternal rights by her own act, but when he hinted this
to Kaituna she rebuked him with one sentence--
"She is my mother."
So Maxwell held his peace, and after Mrs. Belswin had been released
from her position of ignominy and shame, he had escorted both mother
and daughter to their lodgings. There he left them, and at Mrs.
Belswin's request, went to seek for Belk, and bring him there to
receive the thanks of the woman he had saved. Having departed on his
errand, Kaituna sat down beside her mother, in order to hear from her
own lips the story of her sad life.
With many sobs, Mrs. Belswin told the whole pitiful story of her sin,
which had brought her to such a bitter repentance, and, when she had
ended, fell weeping at the feet of the daughter she feared now
would despise her. Ah! she little knew the tenderness which the girl
had cherished for her mother, and which she cherished for her even
now, when the dead saint had changed into the living sinner.
Pitifully--tenderly she raised her mother from her abject position of
sorrow, and kissed away the bitter tears of shame and agony that fell
down the hollow cheeks.
"Mother!" she said, clasping her arms round the poor woman's breast,
"if you have sinned, you have also suffered. The one false step you
made has brought its own punishment; but why did you not tell me all
this before, and so have saved yourself this bitter agony?"
"Tell you before?" said her mother, sadly. "Child! child! what good
would such a confession have done? You could not have helped me."
"No, dearest; but I could have loved you. I could have made your life
less hard. Oh, mother! poor mother, how you must have suffered when I
treated you as a stranger."
"I did suffer," replied Mrs. Belswin, in a low tone, "but not so much
as you think, for even then you treated me more like a mother than as
a companion."
"And I was the little child of whom you spoke?"
"Yes, dear."
"Oh, blind! blind! how could I have been so blind as not to guess your
secret. You betrayed yourself in a hundred ways, my poor mother, but I
never saw it. But now--now that I know the truth, I see how blind I
have been."
"Ah, Kaituna, if I had only known you would have received me like
this, but I feared to tell you of my shame lest you should turn from
me in scorn."
"Hush! dear mother, hush!"
"And it was terrible to think that the little child I had borne at my
breast should spurn me."
"Mother!"
"Oh, my sin! my sin!" wailed Mrs. Belswin, rocking herself to and fro,
"how it has cursed my life--how it has turned the earth into a hell of
repentance."
"Do not say another word, mother," cried Kaituna, wiping the tears
from her mother's eyes; "the past is dead, we will speak of it no
more; but the future----"
"Ah, my child, the future for you is bright; you will marry your
lover, and have him by your side during the rest of your life, but
I--Child, I must leave you."
"Leave me?"
"Yes! you know what I am! You know my sin, my folly, my shame! I
cannot look into your clear eyes, my child, for I have lost the right
to be your mother. No, Kaituna, while you did not know me, and
believed your mother to be a pure good woman, I stayed beside you, to
love you and hear you talk of me as I once was; but now--now--ah, no!
no! I dare not remain in your presence, I dare not kiss you, for my
kisses would pollute your lips. I will go away--far away, and expiate
my sin!"
"But, mother, you will not leave me?"
"It is for your good, child--it is for your good!"
"You shall not leave me!" said Kaituna, winding her arms round the
elder woman's neck. "You have suffered enough for your sin, and for
the rest of your days I will help you to forget the past. Archie
thinks the same as I do. Come, mother, you will not leave me; promise
to stay beside me for ever."
"I cannot promise," cried Mrs. Belswin, breaking away from the tender
bonds that held her; "oh! what a paradox I am. When you did not know
me I wished to stay. Now you know I am your wretched, guilty mother, I
wish to fly. I must go! I must! Seek not to detain me, child. As ye
sow so shall ye reap! The Bible, Kaituna! the Bible--let me go to my
harvest."
Mrs. Belswin, with her savage nature maddened by the mental agonies
she had undergone, had worked herself up into one of those
uncontrollable fits of passion which made her so dangerous. She
had found her child, and now she was going to leave her of her own
free-will, because she could not bear to live with her own daughter,
who knew how vile she was. With a cry of agony, unable to bear any
more implorings from Kaituna, she flew to the door in order to escape;
but her daughter, who was determined not to let the poor distraught
creature go, perhaps to her death, sprang after her, and wrenching her
away, flung herself back against the door with outstretched arms.
"No! no!" she cried, panting with excitement, "that way lies death.
Oh, mother! mother! I know what you would do; but do not leave me. If
you have any pity in your heart for the child you bore let me keep
you ever at my side. Where would you go out into the darkness of
London?--to the terrible stormy streets--to the river--ah! the river!
is that what you think? No! no! mother! my own dear mother, you must
not let me mourn your death twice."
The evening sun was shining through the windows, touching the
furniture, the draperies, the mirrors, with soft gleams of light; and
Kaituna, with her head thrown back, and her arms outstretched, stood
against the door, while Mrs. Belswin, with a sudden cessation of her
mad anguish, stared vacantly at her daughter, and round the room.
Ah! what was that gleaming in the sunlight from behind a heavy purple
curtain--steel--the barrel of a pistol; and it was pointed full at
Kaituna, With a shriek of rage Mrs. Belswin, guessing the truth,
sprang in front of her daughter to shield her from harm, and in
another moment had fallen in a heap at the feet of the child she
loved. There was no sound of a report, and Kaituna in a state of
horrified amazement, fell on her knees beside her mother. As she did
so a man ran from behind the curtain, and wrenching open the door
flung down a pistol and spoke rapidly--
"I wanted to kill you!" he said, with a snarl, "to punish her; but she
came between you and the pistol, so let her die as she deserves to,
with my curses on her."
With a shriek Kaituna recognised him. It was Dombrain, and she sprang
to her feet to seize him; but eluding her grasp he ran out of the door
and down the stairs into the street. Kaituna could not follow him, as
her limbs tottered under her; but she managed to drag herself back to
her mother--the mother, alas, who was dying.
The red blood was welling slowly from a wound in her breast, and a
thick sluggish stream was stealing heavily along the polished floor.
Lifting the dying woman's head on her lap the girl cried aloud for
help upon which the servant came rushing in. She shrieked when she saw
Mrs. Belswin lying unconscious in her blood, and ran out to call in
aid--ran right into the arms of Maxwell, Belk and Ferrari, who were
just entering.
"Help! help!" cried the servant, rushing past them, "a doctor--a
doctor! She is dying."
"Kaituna!" exclaimed Archie with a sudden fear in his breast; and
without a moment's pause the three men rushed into the room, where the
girl was sitting with a look of agony on her pale face as she bent
over the unconscious woman.
"Kaituna!--Mrs. Belswin!"
"It is my mother--my poor mother," cried Kaituna, in an agony of
sorrow. "Have you caught him? Have you caught him?"
"Who?" shouted Maxwell and Belk, while Ferrari, in a paroxysm of
grief, threw himself beside the body of the woman he loved.
"Dombrain!"
"Dombrain?"
"Yes! yes! he was here! he shot my mother with that pistol. He has
just left the house."
"God!" cried Belk, starting, "he was the man we saw running down the
street." And he was out of the room in pursuit without saying another
word.
"A doctor! a doctor!" said Kaituna, imploringly, "Oh, Archie! she will
die, she will die!"
"Stella adora!" moaned the Italian, covering the cold white hand with
kisses.
"A doctor will be here in a few minutes," said Maxwell, approaching
the unconscious form of Mrs. Belswin; "the servant has gone for one.
Ferrari, help me to place her on the sofa!"
But Ferrari could do nothing but tear his hair, and cry endearing
words in Italian to the woman he loved; so Kaituna, pale as marble,
but wonderfully brave, helped Archie to place Mrs. Belswin on the
sofa. She was breathing heavily, and Maxwell, tearing open her dress,
strove to staunch the blood with his handkerchief, while Ferrari
remained on his knees, and Kaituna stood beside him with clasped
hands.
"Good heavens, she will bleed to death!"
Just as Maxwell spoke, the doctor entered with the scared servant, and
at once proceeded to examine the wound. Having done so he looked very
grave, and Kaituna caught him by the arm with a cry of terror as he
arose from his knees.
"She will live! she will live! Say she will live!"
"I'm afraid not, my dear young lady," said the doctor, gravely; "the
bullet has gone right through the lungs."
"Do you think she will die, doctor?" asked Maxwell, in a tone of
horror.
"Yes! I am sure of it!"
"Die!" cried the Italian, wildly, "no! no! Lucrezia--my beautiful
Lucrezia--you must not die."
"Take that man away," said the doctor, sharply, "and get me some
brandy."
Kaituna was the first to obey. The nerve of this girl was wonderful,
and notwithstanding all the agonies she had come through, she gave no
sign of fainting; and the terrible strain on her mind could only be
told by the pallor of her face.
"My brave girl," said Archie, as he assisted her to get what the
doctor required.
How slowly the hours passed in that room, where this poor woman was
dying. Yes, dying; for although the doctor did all in his power to
save her life, there was no hope that she would live through the
night. She was still lying on the sofa, from which she was unable to
be removed; and when she recovered consciousness, after the shock she
had sustained, she opened her eyes to see Kaituna kneeling fondly by
her side, and Maxwell, Belk, Ferrari, and the doctor, in the
background. Belk had not been able to find the assassin, who was lost
among the crowds that thronged the streets, so had returned in an
agony of grief to see the woman he loved die before his eyes without
being able to save her.
So strange the scene was in this little drawing-room, with the couch
upon which rested the dying woman standing near the piano, the glitter
of mirrors and ornaments in the dim candle-light, and the silent group
standing round the one who was passing away. Outside the sunlight had
died out of the sky, the purple twilight deepened to night, and the
melancholy light of the moon streamed in through the windows, the
blinds of which no one had troubled to pull down. In the passage
crouched the servant, sobbing as if her heart would break; but Kaituna
could not cry, she could only kneel there with tearless eyes, and a
look of anguish on her white face watching her mother die.
"Kaituna," said Mrs. Belswin, faintly.
"I am here, dear mother!"
"You are not hurt?"
"No! No!"
"Thank God," said her mother, with a tone of joy in her weak voice. "I
have paid the debt."
"With your life--with your life," moaned the girl, wringing her hands
in despair. "Doctor, can you do nothing?"
"Nothing."
"I know I am dying," went on Mrs. Belswin in a stronger voice, having
swallowed some restorative; "it is better so! Hush! hush! my poor
child! God knows what is best. If I sinned against you in the past, He
has permitted me to expiate that sin by saving you from death. Archie!
take her, take my darling, and make her a good husband."
"As there is a God above, I will," said Maxwell, solemnly, taking the
now weeping girl in his arms.
"My poor Stephano, is it you?"
"Ah, cara mia--cara mia," cried Ferrari, throwing himself on his knees
beside the sofa. "Do not leave me--do not!"
"Alas, Stephano, it is not in my power! Weep! weep, poor heart! Your
tears show me how much love I have lost--love that I did not deserve."
"And I?" said Belk, coming forward.
"You are a good man," said the dying woman, faintly, stretching out
her hand. "You will find some one to love you better than I would have
done."
"Never! Ah, never!"
"Believe me, what I say is true. Ah!" she cried, with a terrified look
on her face. "Kaituna, my dearest!"
In a moment Kaituna was on her knees again, bending over her mother,
with the hot tears falling from her eyes.
"Mother! mother! would you like to see a clergyman?"
"No, my darling no! I have sinned--I have sinned bitterly, but perhaps
God in His mercy will accept the expiation. Archie, be good to my
little child. Oh, my little girl, whom I lost for so many weary, weary
years, put your arms, your dear arms, round me, and let the outcast
die on the bosom of her child!"
The murmuring noise from the street penetrated into the room; the dim
light of the candles flickered and flared in the faint breath of the
wind, and there was silence among all kneeling there, save for the
sobs of Kaituna and the broken mutterings of the dying woman repeating
a prayer.
"Our Father, which art in Heaven----Oh, my child, my child, will he
forgive me--will He forgive me?"
"I'm sure He will, mother!"
"Half a savage, half civilised! Ah, if I had only been guided, I might
have been a good woman; but we were both wrong, Rupert and----
Kaituna, my little child, I--I am leaving you! Oh, my baby--kiss me, my
dearest--my little----"
Her head fell inertly on the encircling arm of the girl, and Kaituna
knew by the terribly calm look on the placid face that not all her
love--not all her money--not all her prayers, had availed to save from
death this mother whom she had lost and found--this mother who had
sinned and repented--this mother who had given her life to save that
of her child.