Lily Pearl and The Mistress of Rosedale Part 39

"Boston is a great city, my child, and what if you could not find Mrs.

g.a.y.l.o.r.d?"

"Her husband mentioned in his letter the name of a Mr. Bancroft, merchant I believe, and through him I thought to learn all I desired. At any rate I must try to find this girl! It is not because I am told that her eyes are like mine, as there is nothing remarkable in this; many have large dark optics," and she laughed, "but because something continually goads me with the conviction that she is my child."

"And have you not told Pearl?"

"No, I could not bear to trouble him as my poor heart is agitated; and it would be an additional grief to have him treat the matter with incredulity. He too must wait for the unfolding."

"But your mother? How will she ever account for the young lady's disappearance? How can either of you forgive what she has done if it is proven that Lily g.a.y.l.o.r.d is your child?"

Lillian started to her feet, while Mrs. Cheevers looked wildly towards the door. A low, wailing cry as if a heart was being crushed had reached them from the outside, and their cheeks blanched as they listened. For a moment the two listened to their heart's throbbings as the stillness of death settled down about them; then a sound as of one falling broke the silence. Lillian rushed to the door in time to clasp the inanimate form of her mother before the poor head struck the floor upon which she was kneeling. It was true! _She had been listening!_ The upper part of the door did not close tightly, and it was to this opening that her ear had been placed until the brain reeled and she sank upon her knees.

"O my mother!" almost shrieked the distracted daughter as she attempted to raise her.

Mr. Cheevers heard the cry and came rushing up the stairs, and the wretched woman was soon carried to her bed, where, in a short time, the family physician was in attendance. For many weeks the proud, erring Mrs. Belmont lay tossing upon her bed in wild delirium, and Lillian stood by and listened to her ravings.

"I did not do it! Look--there is no blood on my hands! It was _she_! It was she! Let me look again; yes--the same purple spots; Lillian!

Lillian! Why won't you come to me? I did not do it! It was the sea--the wicked, cruel sea! O my curse! It has fallen back upon my poor head! It is burning up my brain! O G.o.d! But he won't hear! The fires--_the fires!_"

In vain did the untiring watcher breathe into her ears the words of sympathy and forgiveness, but the whirling brain caught them not. The tenderest of hands bathed the burning brow and administered to her every necessity. It was a long, a fearful struggle between life and death; but when the spring days were all past, and the warm summer sun shone down upon the fresh young gra.s.s in the public squares, Mrs. Belmont lay with folded hands and worn-out frame in quiet helplessness upon the bed, where for so many weeks she had tossed in frantic delirium. The poor clogged brain had been relieved of its heavy load and the burdened conscience quieted, and now the reaction had come and Lillian again prayed and waited!

"If she would but speak to me or show some signs of recognition,"

Lillian had said one day to her aunt, as they stood looking at the pale, wan face upon the pillow. "It is so hard to see her lying there day after day so still and pa.s.sive, taking all that is given her without a word or gesture! Terrible fears at times take possession of me--what if she never recovers her reason! The doctor has hinted such a possibility if I am not mistaken, and I dare not ask him if my suspicions are correct." The quivering lids were slowly raised for one moment from over the large eyes, where a most pitiful pleading look was hidden, and the longing glance fastened itself on the troubled face beside her.

"Mother, dear Mother, do you know me? Speak just one word to your poor Lillian"; and she kissed tenderly the firmly set lips. Again the lids slowly fell and the dark orbs were shut in with their unfathomed mysteries.

"This is dreadful!" and with tears streaming down her face the aunt turned and walked from the room.

CHAPTER x.x.xVI.

UNFOLDINGS AND REVELATIONS.

Weeks pa.s.sed away and Mrs. Belmont was able to sit for hours in her easy chair, but the once active, energetic and ma.s.sive intellect was weak and inefficient as that of a child. The large eyes would follow the flitting forms about her with a weird wistful look, yet she seldom spoke, and when she did, the words revealed the sad truth that the powers that had long sat enthroned in the realm of reason ruled no more.

"I must go," Lillian said to her aunt one day, as they drew the invalid chair close to the window where a cool breeze from the Schuylkill could fan her pale face, and, as the words fell on the ears of Mrs. Belmont a quick flush overspread it. The daughter noticed the change with joy and a strange wondering. "Mrs. Jackson can do all that is needed to be done now," she continued, without removing her gaze from the placid features.

"I will not be absent more than a week at most, and Pearl, you know, writes that if he can obtain leave for a few days will be here by my return."

"Pearl?"

"Yes, Mother; would you like to see him?"

There was a struggling among the buried memories which were not dead but sleeping, for the eyes gleamed with a new light, and the face resumed its look of intelligence. It was only for a moment, however, and then the former inertness returned, as she repeated, "Pearl!"

"He loves you, Mother; shall I read what he wrote last?" There was no response, and taking the letter from her pocket, she read slowly and distinctly. "She is our mother, Lillian, and, no matter what she has done, it is the duty of her children to forgive, and never refer to the past. I am anxious to meet her for her daughter's sake. My heart opens wide to take in her love and bury the whole hateful past. Whisper my name to her gently, familiarize her brain with a.s.sociations concerning me."

"He is coming to see you, Mother, to love you; are you glad?"

"Forgive? Did he say forgive?"

"He certainly did, and he is true to his word. Shall I tell him to come?" The large eyes fixed intently on the beaming face before her, as if endeavoring to pierce the shadows.

After a moment's silence the mother slowly answered "Tell him come," and settled back in her chair wearied and exhausted.

Lillian was exuberant. "She is better," was her conclusion as she adjusted the pillows and brushed back the thin hair from the white temples. The heavy braids were gone, and the queenly bearing lost in helpless weakness.

It was finally concluded that Mrs. Hamilton should leave her mother in the care of the efficient nurse who had been in attendance during her long sickness, and, without speaking to her upon the subject, proceed on her journey to Boston, to return as soon as possible. Therefore on the following morning she started on her exciting mission. What a threefold cord was drawing her! The mother, to whose helplessness her filial love was clinging; the idolized husband for whom her heart was pining; and now the living tendrils of a buried affection had sprung up, and were twining themselves with an unseen power around the vibrating cord that bound her life to earthly loves and earthly hopes. The mother-love had awakened with its pleadings and would not be hushed. A little more than a year ago, and the brittle thread that held her was feeble, and the fibres frail; now other strands had been added, and as the car rolled over the s.p.a.ce that separated her from the consummation of her long-cherished hopes she thanked G.o.d for the tender hand that had led her. The great joy, however, that would sweep over her soul, as she recalled the reasons of her present mission, was not without its gloomy apprehensions. What if, after all, Mrs. g.a.y.l.o.r.d's adopted daughter was not her Lily? How was she to be sure? and then the mother's ravings, her wild confessions; her cries of innocence; certainly these must have come from the hidden consciousness of an appalling truth! She sat by the open window and watched the receding fields, the trees and villages, as the train sped through them, with a sensation of alarm, for she realized that every puff of the tireless engine brought her nearer and nearer to the acme of her hopes or to disappointment.

How her limbs trembled when, on reaching Boston, she entered a carriage and gave orders to be driven to the Parker House! In Boston at last! In this boiling cauldron of living souls should she find her child? What a thought! What a hope! She must rest. Sleep alone could give her strength of body for the trying ordeal. She partook of a hasty lunch and retired to her room. What if Mrs. g.a.y.l.o.r.d had left the city. It had been so long since the boy had told her she was here. Here was a new agony! She had not thought of that; and ringing the bell asked for a directory.

Bowing, the servant turned to bring it.

"Stay, perhaps you can tell me how far it is to Mr. Bancroft's store."

"Peter Bancroft, ma'am?"

"I do not know."

"He is just one block away, ma'am: Shall we send your card?"

"Yes." She had not known before what were her wishes, and she wrote her address opposite her name and requested an interview. In a half hour the servant returned.

"Mr. Bancroft is in the parlor, ma'am, and will meet you there. Will you be kind enough to come immediately as his business is pressing?"

Lillian arose quickly and followed the servant.

"I beg your pardon for troubling you, but I am anxious to find a Mrs.

Hudson g.a.y.l.o.r.d. Are you the Mr. Bancroft with whom she is acquainted?"

"O, yes, if you are her friend I rejoice to meet you"; and he extended his hand.

"I am not acquainted with her, but would like to learn if she has a young lady whom she claims as an adopted daughter?"

"Lily? Certainly! But they are not in the city." She started and he hurried to say: "She is only an hour's ride away. You can get to her before ten in the morning. There is a little hotel out in Kirkham where she has a fancy to spend her summers rather than at a fashionable watering place, and I believe it was in that vicinity where she found her two protegees. If I can a.s.sist you in any way I shall be happy to do so." He arose to depart. Lillian extended her hand; with many thanks and exchanging good-nights they separated, the merchant to forget perhaps the trifling incident in the press of business, the other to her lonely room and rest.

"Yes--I am glad," she thought as she closed and bolted the door; "she--my child--is not here and her mother has an hour's ride to get to her!" Peacefully she rested on the threshold of a new experience. Her heart throbbed wildly with hope and fear as it peered through at the coming possibilities, with new loves clamoring to be fed and old ones struggling for precedence, and yet she slept! The morning came and looked in through the narrow aperture of the closed shutters, but she did not wake. The gong sent its warning echoes up through the broad halls but she slept on. Eight o'clock and a loud knocking upon the door awoke her, and bounding from her bed she answered the summons.

"A gentleman in the parlor, ma'am, and wishes to see Mrs. Hamilton."

"In just one moment!" and she hurriedly made herself ready to meet her visitor.

"The train would leave for Kirkham in a half hour, and Mr. Bancroft would be happy to see her safely upon it." This was the word he sent her.

"Mrs. Hamilton is grateful and will be ready after a hasty cup of coffee."