The Mysteries of Montreal Part 2

One would think that now Mrs. Hazelton had got over this great difficulty, and started in life as a respectable married lady, she would have eschewed her former errors and turned over a new leaf.

Unfortunately for all parties, her husband was proud of her musical ability, and insisted that she should continue to take lessons from Grandison, for whom strange to say, he had conceived a great regard. The frequent meetings consequent upon this proved too much for both of the culprits, and in a short time they became as intimate as ever. Since Mary's marriage, Mr. Sedley had quite forgotten his former suspicions of Grandison, and he was cordially received into both houses, being, in fact, almost a member of the family.

Mr. Hazelton was a prominent member of the church and, being a capital speaker, had undertaken to give a lecture in the bas.e.m.e.nt of that edifice addressed to young men; Mrs. Hazelton and some other ladies were to enliven the evening with music, accompanied on the piano by Mr. Grandison. The lecture animadverted at some length concerning the temptations which beset young men, and warned them to avoid vice of all kinds, drinking, gambling, and the rest. Among other things he mentioned the social evil, and contrasted the happy home of the chaste man and his virtuous wife with that of the drunken, vicious libertine. The seducer was anathematized, and a graphic description given of the poor degraded women who had lost the one jewel in their crown. It is needless to say that both Mrs. Hazelton and her paramour felt exceedingly uncomfortable during this discourse; the former who was to have sung a brilliant aria at its close, grew deadly pale, and had to leave the room. The lecturer requested Mr. Grandison to subst.i.tute a piano solo, but strange to say, he was unable to perform anything without notes, so the announcement was made to the audience that, owing to the excessive heat (the temperature was about 70 degrees Fahrenheit), Mrs. Hazelton, was unable to perform that evening, and begged to be excused. Grandison was to have gone home with the lecturer to supper, but he said he considered Mrs. Hazelton would be the better of a little quiet, and, stammering out some excuse, slunk away in the direction of his own home.

Mr. Hazelton found his wife reclining on a sofa in the drawing-room, and he at once exerted himself to alleviate her suffering, and gratify her every whim. He propped her up with pillows, and ordered the maid to prepare whatever delicacies the larder afforded, blaming himself as being the cause of all her sufferings. His solicitude in her behalf made her only the more miserable; she had never loved, and never could love, him, but his uniform kindness and attention had excited within her a feeling of grat.i.tude which made her remorse all the more bitter as she thought how he had been duped by the woman who had sworn to love and honor him. The next day was one of those appointed for receiving her singing lessons, but she sent a messenger to Mr. Grandison, telling him not to call for a few days, as she was unequal to even that slight exertion. Mr. Hazelton called to see me in great alarm, informing me that his wife's first child was prematurely born, and that he dreaded a recurrence of that terrible calamity. I, of course, had my own ideas concerning what was the matter, but I promised to call and see her, and do what I could to alleviate her sufferings. I found her well enough physically, but in very low spirits and in tears. She told me what I have informed the reader, adding that she was at the moment _enceinte_, the father of this child being also Alfred Grandison. I was very much shocked at this disclosure, but contented myself with remonstrating with Mrs. Hazelton concerning the course she was pursuing, urging her to drop all connection with Grandison. This she promised to do, but I subsequently discovered that, far from keeping her promise, she had even gone so far as to plan an elopement with him to the United States.

About two years after Mrs. Hazleton's marriage, Grandison received the appointment of organist to ---- Church, Chicago, and, together with his wife and family, left Montreal for the Western city, leaving Mr.

Hazelton in undisturbed possession of his wife; the latter, instead of rejoicing at this providential release from temptation, fretted at the loss of her paramour, attributing, however, her fitful humor to her delicate condition.

Shortly after Grandison's departure for Chicago I was summoned to attend Mrs. Hazelton, who gave birth to a fine boy. Mr. Hazelton was in ecstasy at the thought of becoming a father; he gave a grand entertainment on the occasion of the child's christening, and when the guests all agreed that the child had "its father's nose" (which was doubtless the truth) the poor man's delight knew no bounds. Mrs. Hazelton gradually began to be more cheerful, and to try in some measure to make amends to her husband for the wrong which could never be repaired. When, however, he carried her baby up and down, or fondled it upon his knee, the bitter pangs of remorse gnawed at her heart, and made her captious and bad tempered. With all this there was no deep repentance, and when Grandison came to Montreal for his holidays, her husband was completely forgotten once more. Grandison was invited to stay at the Hazeltons' residence, an invitation which to do him justice he endeavored to decline, but Mr.

Hazelton pressed him so strongly that he was afraid to awaken suspicion by refusing, and so the wolf became ensconced snugly in the sheepfold, not only without difficulty, but on the pressing invitation of its occupants. Mrs. Hazelton during this visit urged Grandison so strongly that he promised to elope with her so soon as he could conveniently leave Chicago.

He had not been long back at his new residence when his wife died, and letters of condolence were sent to him from all quarters. His wife, who had never been received into society, was suddenly discovered to have been one of its brightest ornaments, and her loss was deeply felt and proportionately deplored. Mrs. Hazelton now thought her opportunity had come, and accordingly wrote to Grandison that she was ready to go to the end of the world with him. He, however, was not particularly anxious to go to such a remote locality; in fact he had made up his mind to remain in Chicago, and (now that his wife was no longer a burden upon him) to turn over a new leaf and become a respectable member of society.

Whatever charms Mary Sedley may have had had long since disappeared, and Mr. Grandison's affection was not so deep-seated that he was prepared to tie himself to a comparatively plain old woman for whom he had long since lost every particle of respect. He accordingly took no notice of her letter, and received a second and a third couched in the strongest language of affection. But the more importunate she became, the more did Grandison lose his respect for her; he therefore took no notice of her letters, and determined to keep aloof from her in the future.

When Mrs. Hazelton began to realize that he had deserted her, she grew frantic indeed. She would not believe it; the letters had miscarried, or something else had interfered to prevent his writing. She resolved that, come what would, she would go to him, and, throwing herself at his feet, demand his protection. In the dead of the night she collected her most valuable clothing and jewellery, and, with a little money in her purse, stealthily left her husband's house, carrying her bundle in her hand.

She wandered about the streets till daylight, and in the morning entered the Grand Trunk Depot in St. Bonaventure street, and procured a ticket for Chicago. Her husband at first thought she had merely gone to Bonsecours market to purchase provisions for the ensuing week, and that she would shortly return. Breakfast time came, however, and she did not return, and he began to get uneasy; enquiries were made of neighbors and friends at whose houses she might possibly have stayed, but no one had seen her, or knew anything of her whereabouts. The police were next communicated with, and a regular hue and cry was raised in the city concerning her mysterious disappearance. In the meantime the object of their search arrived in Chicago, and at once proceeded towards Grandison's residence. She had not gone far when he approached her with a fashionably dressed young lady on his arm. Mrs. Hazelton ran towards him with a cry of recognition, but, whatever he may have felt towards her before, the sight of her as she now appeared drove every trace of affection from his heart, he looked at her coldly, and without the faintest sign of recognition The effect of this treatment under the circ.u.mstances can well be imagined; the wretched woman fell fainting at his feet, raving wildly and uttering the most awful imprecations. By this time a crowd had collected, and the police, thinking she was some madwoman who had escaped, had her removed to an asylum, and placed under medical treatment.

During all this period Hazelton was like a man demented; he caused advertis.e.m.e.nts to be inserted in the princ.i.p.al papers, describing his wife, and offering a reward for her recovery. The ca.n.a.l locks were dragged from end to end, and every place likely to have been visited by her was thoroughly searched and examined. At the end of about a week Mr.

Hazelton received the following telegram:--

Chicago, Oct. 14, 18--.

To S. Hazelton, Esq.,

Montreal

Person answering description in advertis.e.m.e.nt in _Tribune_ found here to-day, and placed under medical treatment.

What shall we do?

J----P----,

--for Chief of Police.

Mr. Hazelton immediately telegraphed a reply, and, taking the next train, was soon able to identify his lost wife. The sight of him made the poor creature worse, and he was forbidden to call till she was in a less excitable condition. In about a week, though still suffering, she was removed to Montreal, and placed under the care of Dr. X----, to whom I communicated what I knew concerning her antecedents. In a comparatively short time she grew much better, and was able to converse intelligently, the subject of her departure and her illness being carefully avoided. Her husband attributed her mental aberration to the old cause, although why she should have gone to Chicago, he never could exactly understand.

Many years have now pa.s.sed since these occurrences, and all the parties to this narrative are still alive. Mrs. Hazelton has never recovered from the effects of the shock received in Chicago, and sits brooding mournfully and in secret over her past transgressions, while her husband with unceasing devotion heaps coals of fire on her head. Grandison has since moved to New York, where he married again, and became an altered man. I met him in Montreal a short time since, but he carefully avoided all mention of either Mr. or Mrs. Hazelton, and did not dare to call either on them or the Sedleys. Once or twice his name was mentioned at the house of the latter, but it seemed to awaken sad recollections in the breast of Mrs. Hazelton, and was consequently avoided by the family.

The latter have lived so far in ignorance of these occurrences, and it is to be hoped they will never be undeceived.

CHAPTER V.

Among the Fenians.

While still young, and unused to the many strange phases of life I had an adventure which, at that period of my career, made a deep impression on my mind. A rough-looking man called on me, and requested my immediate attendance on a sick woman at Point St. Charles, at that time a remote suburb of Montreal. As I hesitated to go with him, having a strange dread of accompanying him to such a lonely place, he seemed to think I was afraid of not receiving my fee, and, pulling a long purse out of his pocket he took out a handful of gold pieces, one of which he tendered me an advance. This made me all the more reluctant to accompany him, as I feared he might be a robber or freebooter of some kind, but, quickly controlling my emotions, I set my reason to work, and argued that, whatever he might be, he could have no motive other than that a.s.signed for taking me with him, that he could gain nothing by way-laying or even murdering me, and so I put on my outer garments and got into the carriage beside him. The night was wet and stormy, and, just as we started, forked lightning flashed across the heavens in all directions, causing the horse to dash madly along as if to overturn the vehicle.

This of course was a mere coincidence, but, with all my firmness of will and sound logical reasons for not being afraid, I could not altogether control my emotions as we drove through the lowest and dirtiest parts of Griffintown, which had at that time the reputation of harboring all sorts of Fenians, thieves and marauders. We crossed the ca.n.a.l and got out into the country, the rain descending in torrents, while the thunder crashed louder than ever. I believe that, had I been able to get out, I would have even then retreated, but I had no alternative but to remain and make the most of my position. Beyond a few words at starting, my companion said little; indeed conversation was impossible, as were jolted from side to side of the street, and the crashing of the thunder overhead would have drowned our most powerful efforts.

After about half an hour's ride, the carriage stopped at a lonely house some distance on the Lower Lachine road, and, alighting, we entered, when I was piloted into an upper chamber, where a woman lay on a couch in need of my attendance. I felt altogether re-a.s.sured now, and at once opened my satchel to make the necessary preparations for my stay; still the room had not the air of an ordinary bedroom, and the presence of three men, all as rough-looking as my guide, made me suspicious as to their calling, more particularly as there was not a woman to be seen save my patient.

As soon as I had divested myself of my wet garments and hung them at the fire to dry, the men left the room, and I ordered the woman to undress and go to bed, which she did. I then tried to get some information from her as to who her husband was, and what was the occupation of the men I had seen, but she either was or pretended to be too sick to enter into conversation, and I was obliged to restrain my curiosity for the time at least. In about two hours the woman gave birth to a boy, and as soon as I could leave with safety, I donned my clothes and left for home, the man who had engaged me putting me into a cab with great politeness, and paying the driver, he ordered him to deposit me in safety at my residence.

The next morning I was surprised to read in the paper that a quant.i.ty of arms and ammunition had been sent here from the Fenian headquarters in New York, and that although it was known that they were secreted somewhere about Griffintown, the police had been altogether baffled in their search for them. A new light now dawned upon me, particularly as I recollected that the room in which my patient lay was filled with long, coffin-shaped boxes, the uses of which I had been unable to guess. I accordingly consulted with my husband as to what course I should pursue.

Was I, having come by this information in my professional capacity, to shut my eyes to these doings, or, taking advantage of my position, to inform the police? My husband argued in this way:--If these people had been guilty of a crime, which could not now be ameliorated or averted, it would be a straining point for me to take advantage of what I had learnt by accident and to bring them to justice; but that as in this case a great national trouble _might be averted_, and many lives saved, by timely information, it was my duty to exert myself in the interests of the community by putting a check on their movements. With this end in view I communicated with Mr. P----, then Chief of Police, and from my description he said he had no doubt but these were the very persons of whom they were in search, and that if I could only manage to frame an excuse for the introduction of a detective, he would make sure of their ident.i.ty before making any arrests.

My second visit to the house was made in the morning. I found my patient very weak and feverish, and, although it was only what I had expected, took advantage of the fact to express my fears that the case was one requiring the most skillful treatment, and that unless I were permitted to call in a medical man of eminence, I would not be responsible for the consequence. The woman's husband was very much averse to this; but, as I urged it strongly, and his wife (of whom he was apparently fond) seconded my request, he finally consented, and the same afternoon called, accompanied by Detective F----, whom I introduced as my consulting physician. Whilst I mixed some simple remedies for my patient, the detective carefully examined the boxes, which he was unable to move, and which we were both convinced contained arms and ammunition for the destruction of the peaceful inhabitants of Montreal. Mr. F---- carefully noted the position of everything in and about the house, he also took a good look at the surroundings, and then we departed for the police station. The Chief was for making an immediate arrest of the whole party, but I dissuaded him, urging him, in the interests of humanity, to wait till the woman was out of danger; he then agreed to wait for a few days, keeping the house and its inmates under constant surveillance.

The woman got better day by day, and at the end of a week, the Chief, fearful lest something might occur to mar his plans, sent a detachment of armed policemen to arrest the Fenian emissaries and capture the stores. In some way or another the men got wind of the affair, and made their escape across the lines, leaving the poor woman and her helpless babe alone and unprotected. The police entered the house unopposed; they found there several dozen, muskets and rifles, also about a hundred bayonets and five thousand rounds of ball cartridge. The woman refused to give the slightest information as to the names or ident.i.ty of her companions; she said she knew nothing about the arms contained in the boxes, that the latter had been brought there by a strange man, and left in charge of her husband, and that she had never seen them opened. As the men were evidently by this time safe in Uncle Sam's dominions, the police contented themselves with securing the ammunition, leaving the woman to shift for herself. As I did not like the idea of leaving her in the room alone and uncared for, I explained the matter to the neighbors, who good-naturedly undertook to look after her till she received money from her husband to pay her pa.s.sage to New York. As, although I had no compunction in a.s.sisting to break up this den of ruffians, I pitied the poor woman, who was probably innocent of any crime, I handed her the gold piece which her husband had given me, and did not leave her till a.s.sured that the neighbors would look after her till her departure. In later years I have often pa.s.sed the scene of these transactions, and a shudder pa.s.sed through my frame as I remembered my experiences among the Fenians.

CHAPTER VI.

A Disciple of Satan.

About the year 1866 I was summoned to attend a lady in Berri street, the wife of an officer in the ----th Rifles. Her husband, Captain O'Grady, had taken a furnished house for the winter, the quarters in the Quebec Barracks being unsuited for the accommodation of a lady of her station, and round the house on every hand evidences might be seen of both wealth, taste and refinement. Mrs. O'Grady was a beautiful woman of about twenty-two, and had only been married about a year; her husband, who was an Irishman, loved her pa.s.sionately, and gave me particular charges concerning her, bidding me spare neither trouble nor expense to render her illness as little irksome as possible. After her baby (a fine boy) was born I attended her regularly every day, and, as she had travelled in her youth and lived for some time in Germany, she invited me to come and see her in the evenings whenever I was at leisure, so that we might converse in the beautiful language of Schiller and Goethe, and chat about that beautiful far-off land. Captain O'Grady quite approved of this arrangement, and often used to join in the conversation; it was in Germany he had met his wife, and he had a great fancy for the soft German language, although speaking it but imperfectly himself.

Shortly after the birth of his child, Captain O'Grady's regiment was ordered to Chambly, and he was obliged to separate from his wife for a time. He used to drive in occasionally to Montreal to visit her, but at this season of the year the roads were very bad, and, as the thermometer sometimes fell 20 or even 30 degrees below zero, the journey was usually attended with much discomfort and even some danger. On Christmas Day, Mrs. O'Grady wished her husband to remain at Chambly and dine at the mess, but he insisted on coming into Montreal and dining with his family. He accordingly set out about eleven o'clock in the morning, accompanied by a brother officer named Churchill, a lieutenant in the same regiment.

It was a bitterly cold day, and the snow, which had been falling heavily for some days, was blown in immense drifts across the roads, rendering them almost impa.s.sable. The groom, being accustomed to obey, brought the horses round with alacrity when ordered to do so, but he shook his head ominously as he handed the reins to Captain O'Grady, and jumped into the d.i.c.key.

Off they flew through the blinding snowdrifts, the fine horses going at a tremendous speed, and threatening to overthrow the sleigh every instant. The hot breath of the horses froze to the head-gear and harness, rendering it perfectly white, and the three men were obliged to pull their fur caps over their ears to avoid their being frozen. They had not proceeded far on their journey when the road, which in summer was clearly defined by fences on either side, diverged somewhat from the ordinary course, and was made, for convenience, through an adjoining farm, being marked with pine branches, stuck at intervals in the snow.

As our party proceeded, even these slight indications were invisible, the drifts rising in some places to a height of twelve or fourteen feet. In one of the latter the sleigh stuck fast, and the occupants were obliged to get out, and wading up to their knees in snow to a.s.sist the horses to regain _terra firma_, or at least a more compact body of snow.

Whilst engaged in this operation, Mr. Churchill noticed that the groom's nose was perfectly white, and on examination it was found to be frozen; they accordingly set to work to rub it with snow, and at Captain O'Grady's suggestion he held a large body of snow to it for the remainder of the journey, which had the effect of thawing it out.

In a short time they regained the high road, and went along at a tremendous pace for three or four miles, when they entered the village of Longueuil, which is situated on the south bank of the St. Lawrence, a little below Montreal. They found the river completely frozen over, the cold being intense, but the ice-bridge had only just been formed, and the surface was rough and uneven, causing the sleigh to oscillate fearfully, threatening every moment to overturn. The storm had by this time increased to a perfect hurricane, and the drifting snow was driven with intense force into the faces of both men and horses, causing the latter to bound and gallop fearfully, to the extreme peril of those behind them. O'Grady, however, was a skillful driver, and kept the horses well in hand, calling to them from time to time in a rea.s.suring manner; as for Churchill, he rather enjoyed the little spice of danger, and, as conversation was out of the question, he lit a cigar, and, drawing the buffalo-robes tightly round him, made himself as comfortable as possible. In a short time they arrived at their destination, and throwing the reins to the groom, O'Grady dashed up stairs and in an instant had his wife in his arms. She remonstrated with him about coming in on such a terrible day, but descended to the drawing-room, and, having welcome Mr. Churchill to her house, ordered the servant to set the table for dinner. Just then the groom entered the house to enquire when the carriage would be required in the evening, and the appearance of his nose set the whole party laughing heartily; his proboscis had a.s.sumed a deep red hue, and was swollen to an enormous size, giving him a most comical appearance. O'Grady ordered him to bring the carriage round at ten o'clock, and, dinner just then being announced, they prepared, in true English fashion, to celebrate the Nativity.

After dinner, Mrs. O'Grady entertained the gentlemen with music, and, having chatted on various topics very pleasantly they were aroused to the fact that the evening social intercourse must draw to an end by the clanging of the door-bell announcing the arrival of the groom from the neighboring livery-stable with the horses. Taking an affectionate leave of his wife, and promising to come into Montreal to dinner on the following Sunday, O'Grady mounted the box, followed by the light-hearted Churchill, and cracking his whip was soon speeding rapidly along into the howling storm. Churchill lit another cigar, and shut his eyes to avoid the blinding snowdrifts, while the driver was with difficulty enabled to see his way. Arrived at the suburb known as Hochelaga, O'Grady turned his horses' heads towards the river, and they dashed across the ice-bridge at the rate of about twelve miles an hour. On they went at a terrible pace, the sleigh b.u.mping and jolting over the rough road, till bang they came upon a piece of ice, on to which the snow had drifted, and over went the sleigh, turning its occupants head first on the hard, icy road. Churchill was first on his feet, and, though bruised and bleeding, succeeded in arresting the horses, who, now thoroughly frightened, were about to run away; the groom also soon recovered himself and ran to the a.s.sistance of his master, but the latter was past all human aid, having fallen from the upper side of the sleigh bead foremost on a piece of ice, and broken his neck. His companions were struck dumb with grief and astonishment; however, they could not stand freezing in the middle of the river, so, righting the sleigh, they placed the dead man gently inside it, and drove slowly to Longueuil, where a friendly _habitant_ placed the best room in his house at their disposal.

Mrs. O'Grady, as may well be supposed, was very much shocked at the news of her husband's death. The body was brought to her house in Montreal, and from thence to Mount Royal Cemetery, where it was interred, a company of rifles firing a volley over the grave. For a time the young widow was undecided whether to go back to her friends in England or to remain in Canada, but, being unwilling to become dependent on her relations, she accepted a situation as governess in a wealthy family residing in the west end of Montreal, placing her infant son under the charge of a nurse.

Mrs. Thomson, in whose service Mrs. O'Grady was employed, was the wife of a wealthy English gentleman who had invested largely in Canadian real estate and national enterprises. She had two daughters, aged 18 and 16, respectively (whom Mrs. O'Grady was expected to train and prepare for entrance into society), also a son about 22, who, although educated as a lawyer, pursued no avocation other than the collection of rents on his father's estate, and minor offices in connection with the investment of his money. Randolph Thomson, the young gentleman in question, suddenly became very attentive to his sisters. There was not a single concert or ball of importance to which he did not take them, whereas before he could rarely be induced to accompany them anywhere. The girls never tried to account for this sudden change in their brother's behavior, being too much engrossed in the enjoyment of the entertainments aforesaid to trouble their heads about the matter; Mrs. Grundy, however, had an idea that the handsome widow who officiated as governess had something to do with the affair, and, a rumor of the kind reaching the ears of Mrs. Thomson, the unfortunate widow was eventually obliged to leave the house, much to the regret of the whole family, but especially that of Randolph, whose brotherly attentions suddenly became less marked, and in time ceased altogether.

Mrs. O'Grady, being once more thrown on her own resources, departed for Sherbrooke, one of the most thriving towns in the Eastern Townships, where she endeavored to make a respectable livelihood by teaching music.

She chose Sherbrooke rather than Montreal, because in the latter place every lady who wished to earn her own living started out as a music teacher, and the teachers were rapidly threatening to outnumber the pupils, and to equal many of them as regards want of knowledge.

Close to Mrs. O'Grady's new residence, and removed a short distance from the town, there dwelt a wealthy old farmer named Clarkson. Mr. Clarkson was a bachelor about 65 years old, who, by steady attention to his farm and shrewd speculations, had ama.s.sed a considerable fortune, being considered one of the "solid men" of Sherbrooke. Clarkson happening to meet Mrs. O'Grady at the house of one of the princ.i.p.al clergymen, became enamored of her at first sight, and at the first opportunity proposed for her hand. This she was at first loth to give, her heart at the time being elsewhere; but, as Clarkson offered to settle all his property on her and her children, and he himself, though neither young nor handsome, was very agreeable, and held a high position in the community, she finally consented, and was led a second time to the hymeneal altar.

Mr. Clarkson was very proud of his handsome wife, he ordered a handsome phaeton and pair of bay ponies from Montreal for her private use, and gave her an unlimited allowance of pin money, and she might be seen any afternoon, fashionably attired, driving from one shop to another, followed by the admiring eyes of the bank clerks and beaux, and the envious glances of the single young ladies of Sherbrooke.

After three or four months Mrs. Clarkson told her husband that she had been invited to go on a visit to Montreal, and urged him to allow her to accept it, particularly as her little boy was afflicted with sore eyes, and there was no oculist of ability in the town. Her husband readily consented, and, with the promise that she would return in a few weeks, Mrs. Clarkson came to Montreal, and calling at my house informed Madame Charbonneau (in my absence) that she wished to remain there if possible, as she was about to be confined. When I got home she confessed to me that she had been on terms of intimacy with Randolph Thomson, and begged me not to inform her husband, as he was exceedingly jealous, and would kill her if he suspected the true state of affairs.

Promising to do the best I could under the circ.u.mstances I had rooms prepared for both her and her boy, and secured the best medical attendance for the latter, whose eyes were in a very bad state from long neglect. It was two weeks before Mrs. Clarkson's baby (a boy) was born, and very unpleasant rumors were circulated round the town, which, coming to the ears of the old gentleman caused him to write a very stiff letter, ordering his wife to return immediately. This, of course, she could not do, and as she was unable to frame an excuse for refusing to I do so, she determined to take no notice of his letter, and, if brought to task concerning it, _to deny having received it_, the letter being unregistered. Fortunately for her, if not for himself, her boy's eyes continued to defy the skill of Dr. Fulford, the oculist to whose care she had committed him, and it was imperative that they should remain in Montreal a week or two longer. This fact was communicated to Mr.

Clarkson, but his sister (who had continued to reside with him after his marriage) persuaded him to have nothing more to do with his wife, and related to him the rumors she had heard, allowing them (as may well be supposed) to lose nothing in the narration.

Mrs. Clarkson was naturally very much put out when she learnt how her sister-in-law had acted; but, being both a strong-minded and crafty woman, she determined to put a bold face on the matter, and if possible to pay off old scores with her sister-in-law. She accordingly placed her baby out to nurse, and, as soon as she felt strong enough, set out for Sherbrooke. She found her husband's house locked against her, but, nothing daunted, she went straight to the mayor's residence, and explained that, having gone to Montreal with her husband's permission, she had (as soon as _her boy_ was sufficiently recovered) returned to her home, and found the door locked against her. The mayor (a particular friend of Clarkson's) told her to come with him and he would see her righted, but she refused, saying that she had already gone to her husband's house and been refused admission, and that she would not go again until he came to fetch her; she then departed and engaged rooms at the hotel.