THE CONFESSION.
It was a comfortable and well-furnished bedroom; but instead of finding
Flora there, as Mrs. Courland expected, the bed was occupied by an
elderly woman, who appeared very ill, and was sitting up in the bed
supported by pillows. She motioned her visitors to be seated, and then
said in a feeble voice,--
"You do not recognise me, Mrs. Courland: illness makes great changes in
the human frame. The name you first knew me by was Fisher; I then
changed it more than once, for reasons you shall know presently."
"I remember you, now," said Mrs. Courland involuntarily, shrinking
further from the bed, as if still afraid of the poor helpless creature
before her.
"I am not long for this world," said the invalid; "and before I die I
wish to make some amends for the misdeeds I have done during my life,
and they have been many. I have requested Mr. Frederick Morley to attend
with you, for a part of the revelations I am about to make concerns him
also."
"Do you know anything," exclaimed Frederick, "of the wretches who----?"
"Don't interrupt me, if you can possibly help it," she said; "for I feel
my strength failing me, and I don't know if I shall be spared even long
enough to finish my recital. My father was not a poor fisherman, as you
supposed when you and your mother came to lodge with us. He was pursuing
a lawless employment,--sometimes bringing in great earnings, and
sometimes nothing. He had seen better days. In his youth he was captain
of a large trading vessel, and my brother and myself received a good
education. My father amassed considerable property,--more than he could
possibly have done by legitimate trading; and he was suspected, and
watched, and found out. He had turned his vessel into a smuggler, and,
under cover of fair trading, clandestinely carried on a lucrative trade
in all sorts of contraband goods. He was convicted, and fined heavily,
and, in fact, ruined.
"We then retired to the small fishing-cove where your mother found us.
My brother had gone to France to reside some time before, and acted as
my father's agent there. He was very shrewd and intelligent, but a
determined character, and one who would never forget nor forgive an
injury. He was naturally cunning and crafty; and his smuggling pursuits
tended to sharpen his natural gifts in this respect.
"Our fortune was at a low ebb when we first became acquainted with you;
and we were glad of the assistance of an aristocratic lodger. I saw your
mother's weak points, and your love of gaiety and admiration; and I
thought that, by residing with you in the confidential capacity of
lady's-maid, I could benefit myself in many ways. Your clandestine
marriage, and the birth of your daughter, which I persuaded you to keep
secret from your parents, gave me a double hold upon you.
"After the death of your husband, and while you were with us on a visit
to recruit your health, my brother returned. He fell desperately in love
with you;--you refused to receive his addresses, and spurned him from
you with scorn. He was desperate. He begged me to intercede for him,
which I promised to do, but did not; for your marriage with my brother
would not have suited my purpose at all. I knew your parents wished you
to marry some rich man, and, as I was now the keeper of your secret, I
knew that if you married according to your parents' wishes, I could make
my own terms with you. You were summoned home, and eventually married
according to their wishes and mine.
"My mother died. Your little daughter was left in my care, and I was
well paid. I sent her to school, but I watched her most carefully;--I
could not afford to lose her, for she was my nest-egg: and she grew a
lovely girl, just like you when you were her age."
"How is it possible that she can ever have been even good-looking?"
exclaimed Mrs. Courland;--"but that dreadful spoiler of the human
face--the small-pox--has done its work: it was that, no doubt, that
altered her so much."
"She was a lovely girl," continued the invalid, without noticing Mrs.
Courland's interruption. "My brother would gaze on her countenance for
hours without speaking, and then he would leave the room in a rage. He
hated the name of Morley, because it was under that name that he first
knew you, and was spurned by you. He seldom took much notice of the
child, except to gaze on her until he had worked his mind up to a state
of maddening jealousy.
"We never lost sight of you. Wherever you moved, we followed, and lived
near you under feigned names, in order to worry you by continually
draining your purse, and threatening to expose your duplicity and deceit
to your husband by producing the child and telling him all, of which we
had ample proof, and have still. My brother would not see you
himself,--he could not bear it, he said. I was always your tormentor;
and when I brought the dumb girl to you, I thought the sight of her
hideous features, and her infirmity, would have so disgusted you, that
you would have given us what we asked, rather than have her left on your
hands as your acknowledged daughter. We were mistaken. You kept her,
believing her to be your child; and you thought that, by doing this, and
denying me an interview, you would be free from further worry, and there
could be no danger of the girl telling anything of her former life or
associates; and if we tried to expose you to your husband, he would not
believe us.
"Since that girl has been with you, we have had other things to think
of; and our anxiety for my brother's safety prevented our taking the
steps we intended with regard to your secret. _That poor dumb girl is
not your daughter_, Mrs. Courland."
"Oh! thank God for that!" exclaimed Mrs. Courland, rising in the
greatest excitement. "I hope you are not deceiving me again. If you can
produce her, and I can be satisfied that she really is my daughter, I
will acknowledge her in the face of all the world, and tell my husband
all, and throw myself on his mercy. I have suffered years of torture,
from having followed your advice in the beginning. Oh! had I but acted a
straightforward part, and kept no secret from my husband, my life would
have been much happier. I see my error now, and am determined to keep
the secret no longer. Where is she? let me see her at once; don't keep
me in suspense."
The invalid had exhausted her strength in the recital of her tale, and
this outburst of Mrs. Courland's quite upset her. She could not speak
again for several minutes, until Frederick Morley handed her the glass
which she seemed to wish for, and which was standing on the table more
than half full of brandy. This, which she drank off at once, seemed to
give her new life and energy. Then, turning to Frederick, she said, in a
gayer tone than before,--
"You will be glad to hear, Frederick Morley, that the lovely girl to
whom you are so devotedly attached, is not the daughter of John Freeman,
the Land's-End conjuror, but _the daughter of your aunt--Mrs.
Courland_."
"Alrina, of whom I have heard so much, my daughter!" exclaimed Mrs.
Courland; "impossible!"
"Oh! this is indeed too good to be true!" cried Frederick; "I cannot
believe it. What proof is there of this?"
"Proof in abundance," replied the invalid; "I am ready to make an oath
of the fact before a magistrate; and my brother----"
"Your brother!" said Frederick; "where is he? is he still alive?"
"I was about to say that my brother could have confirmed my statement.
Captain Cooper and his wife can also bear witness to the fact; but, even
if there were no other evidence, _the likeness_ would be sufficient to a
person who knew Mrs. Courland as Miss Morley."
"Let me see her!" said Mrs. Courland; "where is she? It is very strange
that I have never seen her, although I have heard so much about her. Why
did you never let me see her?"
"That would not have suited our purpose," replied the invalid; "you
would have braved all risk of your husband's displeasure, and taken her
home long before, if you had seen her. I think you would have seen the
likeness yourself. No, no, my brother's revenge was not complete. I led
you, from the first, to believe that she was disfigured by the
small-pox, and rendered very ugly and forbidding; but I never said she
was dumb,--indeed, it was not our intention to have left the other girl
with you entirely; it was only to frighten you into granting us the
money that we required, that the poor girl was taken into your house. My
brother knew that he must be found out, ere long, and he wanted all the
money he could get to carry with him; for he had made all his
preparations for leaving this country, and his associates and
accomplices wanted their share of the hush-money also. It was the last
we should get from you, and so we demanded a large sum."
"But my daughter!" said Mrs. Courland--"if in reality she is such--pray
let me see her. Where is she?"
"Your daughter, madam, is now at Pendrea-house, as Frederick Morley
knows. Let him go there and fetch her, while you remain here; for I have
something more to tell you in connection with this affair, which will
convince you I am not deceiving you now. Tell Alrina," continued she,
turning to Frederick, "that her aunt, Miss Freeman, is on her death-bed,
and she must come at once."