CONFESSION
It was a beautiful afternoon as Henry Randall sat in a big easy chair
under the shade of a large apple tree at the back of the Hampton house.
He was very weak from the terrible experience through which he had
passed almost two weeks before. He was slowly recovering, and his mind
was now as clear as ever, for the cloud had lifted on the second day
after the fire. His foot was still painful, and he could not yet bear
to touch it to the ground. He liked this place at the rear of the
house. It was quiet and hidden from all inquisitive eyes of passers-by
on the main highway.
The fire around Island Lake, and the thrilling escape from death of
Henry Randall and the two women had stirred the country for miles
around. For days it was the principal topic of conversation in
numerous homes, at the church door on Sunday, and other places where
people were in the habit of congregating. Although John Hampton was
accorded much commendation for saving the life of the lumber merchant
on the blueberry plains, it was Eben Tobin who received the unstinted
praise of all, in so nobly rescuing the women from the island. Every
day anxious inquiries were made for the lad, and all were greatly
pleased to learn of his steady improvement. The doctor, however,
reported that it would be months before he could fully recover from his
serious burns, and that his face and body would be scarred for the rest
of his life.
The city newspapers made much of the affair, and the day after the fire
contained special articles, with big headlines. The fact that Henry
Randall, a leading citizen, was one of the chief actors, and that he
was searching for his daughter who had taken refuge in the wilderness,
created a sensation. It was the first knowledge that the public had
that the girl was not drowned, and every scrap of information was
seized upon with avidity. That it was a love-affair of no ordinary
nature was quite apparent, and this added to the intense interest which
prevailed. Great credit was given to John Hampton and Eben Tobin for
their part in the rescue, although it was hinted that the former was in
a large measure responsible for the trouble.
Henry Randall made no comment about these newspaper articles when he
was able to read them. Had they appeared three weeks before he would
have been very indignant, and would have angrily resented the intrusion
into his family affairs. But he had changed greatly since then. His
blustering, dominating manner had disappeared, and he would sit by the
hour beneath the shade of the old tree, either gazing straight before
him, or intently watching the birds, bees, and butterflies, which
flitted and buzzed on all sides. He spoke but seldom, and seemed to
take very little interest in the world of business of which he had but
recently taken such an active part.
Whether this change was due to weakness Jess could not tell. That he
did not once refer to her escapade and the trouble she had caused,
surprised her not a little. She waited upon him faithfully, at first
almost day and night, and he seemed pleased to have her by his side.
But she feared lest when he recovered his former strength his old
imperious manner would return. She longed for him to remain the quiet,
gentle, unassertive man that he now was.
Not until the second week after the fire did Mrs. Randall visit her
husband. She had wanted to come as soon as she learned of the
accident, but owing to her nervous disposition the doctor ordered that
she should stay at home. She would only be in the way, and her
presence would be bad for the patient, so he explained. When finally
she did come, she was very restless, and it was difficult to know what
to do with her. She became hysterical when she saw her husband lying
so still and white, and she furiously upbraided Jess for her rebellion,
and the trouble she had brought upon the family. But after a few days
she quieted down, took an interest in the family affairs, and seemed to
enjoy being out in the open. She became greatly attached to Mrs.
Hampton, whose calmness and gentleness of manner won her affection.
"I wish I were like you," she one day confided, as she watched Mrs.
Hampton at her work.
"In what way?" was the smiling reply.
"Nothing seems to worry you in the least. No matter what happens, you
remain perfectly unruffled. Now, I am altogether different."
"Perhaps I have my troubles, too," was the quiet response. "But I try
to keep busy and not worry too much about them. Perhaps you have too
much idle time on your hands."
"That may be so," and Mrs. Randall sighed. "You have a clear
conscience, at any rate. But I, oh, you have no idea how I have
sinned. I am sure that I can never be forgiven for what I have done.
If you knew what I have done, you would spurn me as one unfit to stay
in your house another minute."
"Does your husband know about it?" Mrs. Hampton asked. She understood
quite well to what this woman was referring, and only with an effort
did she maintain her composure, although her heart beat fast.
"No, he has no idea of what I have done," Mrs. Randall replied. "I
dare not tell him. Oh, it is terrible to have to bear this burden
alone!"
Glancing out of the window, Mrs. Hampton saw Randall beneath the tree.
She knew that some day the truth would have to be told, and no time
seemed as opportune as now. It could not be delayed much longer, she
felt certain, and the sooner the revelation was made the better it
would be.
"Your husband is all alone," she remarked, turning to her visitor.
"Suppose we go and sit with him for a while. I have some sewing to do,
and it will be much nicer out there than in the house."
Mr. Randall smiled as the women came and sat down by his side. He was
pleased to see his wife looking better than she had for years. The
city paper, which had arrived at noon, was lying unopened on a little
table by his side which Jess had placed there to hold the books and
cigars which she hoped he would use. She had left him to go with John
and the hired man into the hay field. She was never happier than when
out in the open, and John was always delighted to have her with him.
Their hearts were full of love, and the world seemed filled with peace
and joy on this beautiful summer afternoon.
As the two women sat under the shade of the tree and talked, Mr.
Randall listened for a while in a somewhat absent-minded manner. At
length be reached out his hand and took the newspaper from off the
table. He read first the financial news which interested him most of
all. Then he turned over the pages and glanced carelessly at the
events of the day. The various accounts of political meetings,
murders, and local incidents had little or no appeal to him, and he was
about to lay the paper aside when something caught his eye, which
arrested his immediate attention, and caused an exclamation of surprise
to escape his lips.
"What is it, Henry?" his wife asked. "Anything special?"
"I should say there is," was the emphatic reply. "Donaster has been
arrested for forgery."
Mrs. Randall gave a startled cry, and leaned excitedly forward.
"Arrested!" she exclaimed. "How terrible!"
"Yes, it certainly is," Randall replied, as he rapidly scanned the
article. "He is not the son of Lord Donaster, for there is no such
person by that name. That fellow is an impostor, and his father is a
shoemaker in the United States. His real name, so this paper says, is
William Lukie, and the police have been on his tracks for some time for
forging the names of several prominent business men. So that's the end
of that rascal, and I'm not sorry."
Mr. Randall put down the paper, leaned back in his chair and closed his
eyes. Mrs. Hampton had let her sewing drop upon her lap, and her eyes
were fixed full upon the invalid's face. She was thinking rapidly, and
her heart beat fast, for she had made up her mind that the great
revelation must be made at all cost.
"So your daughter, then, will no longer be troubled with that man," she
remarked as casually as possible.
"Certainly not," Randall replied. "It has been a very narrow escape."
"And you wanted to force her to marry him last fall, did you not?"
"We did, we did, fools that we were."
"Then Jess was right in taking matters into her own hands."
"She really was; I see it now. That girl has a great deal of common
sense."
"I suppose you will let her choose for herself after this?"
"The man she wishes to marry, do you mean? H'm, I guess she has chosen
already, from every appearance. I'm satisfied, if you are. I
certainly would like to have John as a son. He would be a great help
to me in my business. I wish I could say the same about my own boys."
"And if they should marry, you would get another son, while I should
get a daughter. It would be a satisfactory arrangement on both sides,
would it not?"
"It certainly would. Nothing would please me better."
Randall was greatly surprised as Mrs. Hampton rose suddenly to her feet
and stood before him. She was trembling violently, and she laid her
hand upon the table for support.
"What is the matter?" he asked. "Are you sick?"
"No, no, I am not sick. But I want to tell you something--a
confession. Listen. John is your own real son, and Jess is my
daughter. There, now you know the truth."
A startled cry from Mrs. Randall followed this announcement, which
caused Mrs. Hampton to wheel suddenly around. Mrs. Randall had sprung
to her feet, and was standing before her.
"What did you say?" she demanded. "That John is our son? Is it true?
Tell me, quick."
"Yes, it is true," Mrs. Hampton replied. "John is your son, and Jess
is my daughter."
For an instant it seemed as if Mrs. Randall would fall to the ground,
so overcome was she at this startling announcement. She stared at Mrs.
Hampton as if she had not heard aright. Then she placed her hand to
her forehead and sank upon the ground, while tears streamed down her
cheeks.
Mr. Randall gazed at the two women in amazement. He looked first at
one and then at the other.
"What is the meaning of all this?" he demanded. "John my son, and Jess
your daughter! For God's sake, explain!"
With face as white as death, in a low voice, broken with emotion, Mrs.
Hampton revealed to the astounded man the entire story of the exchange
of the two babies in the hospital almost twenty years before. When she
had finished she stood silently before Randall, waiting for his reply.
What would his answer be? she asked herself. Never for an instant had
he taken his eyes from her face as she related the pathetic story of
motherly shame. Would he now scorn her and his wife, and spurn them
from him as unworthy of the name of women?
Presently Randall gave a deep sigh, and turned to his wife.
"Is this story true, Helen?" he asked.
"It is true, Henry, true in every word," the woman moaned, lifting her
tear-stained face to his. "But forgive us, for the love of heaven
forgive us! We have sinned, but we have suffered. Oh, it has been
terrible!"
So vehement was her emotion that she rose and stood once more before
her husband by Mrs. Hampton's side. An intense silence reigned for a
few seconds, and then Mr. Randall motioned them to sit down.
"You need not get so excited," he told them, as wearily they both sank
down in their chairs. "I am amazed at what I have just heard, but I
hope I am not brute enough to increase your agony. You both have
committed a great sin, but you have suffered enough, so I gather, to
atone for the past."
"And you forgive us?" his wife eagerly asked, looking at him with
tear-dimmed eyes.
"Certainly I forgive you. What else should I do? But why did you not
tell me about this before, Helen?"
"I was afraid, Henry. And you know you would have condemned me had I
told you even a month ago."
"I believe you are right, Helen," was the quiet reply. "But I have
changed a great deal since then. I have been at death's door, and see
things in another light. And besides, I would not have known then
where and who my son is. But I know now, so that makes all the
difference."
In Mrs. Randall's eyes appeared an expression such as her husband had
not seen there for many years. It thrilled him, and carried him back
to the first happy year of their wedded life. Rising to her feet, she
came swiftly toward him, knelt by his side, placed her arms about his
neck and gave him a loving kiss. Tears were in her eyes, but they were
tears of joy now, and her heart was happy.
Mrs. Hampton was about to steal quietly away and leave the two alone
with their new-found joy, when the sound of voices coming toward them
caused her to hesitate.
"They are coming!" she announced, "and we must tell them! What will
they think?"
Across the field came the young lovers, talking and laughing in the
gayest of spirits. Their faces were flushed with vigourous exercise,
and every motion of their bodies betokened abounding health. Life was
very sweet to them on this bright summer day as they advanced toward
the silent group anxiously awaiting their coming beneath the spreading
branches of the friendly old apple tree.