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.
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.
"De Mortuis"--you know the phrase, I think;A kindly saying, such as poor humanityMutters at times when talking of the dead;Therefore, I pray you, speak not any illOf this poor soul who suffered, sinned, and died,Seeing her sinning brought her but to this;Yourself when gone may need a pitying word,When all your virtues with you are entombed, And naught remains but sins to curse your name.
"De Mortuis"--you know the phrase, I think;A kindly saying, such as poor humanityMutters at times when talking of the dead;Therefore, I pray you, speak not any illOf this poor soul who suffered, sinned, and died,Seeing her sinning brought her but to this;Yourself when gone may need a pitying word,When all your virtues with you are entombed, And naught remains but sins to curse your name.
So it was Dombrain, after all, who had committed this crime, and, by accusing Mrs. Belswin of the murder, placed her life in jeopardy, in order both to revenge and save himself. Had it not been for the unexpected evidence of Samson Belk, without doubt the unhappy woman would have been found guilty, and suffered in the place of the astute Mr. Dombrain. When this ex-lawyer, ex-convict, and constant blackguard heard himself accused of the crime, he slipped out of the court and vanished before he could be arrested, knowing that he could make no defence.
Part of his evidence was true, for he had been in the drawing-room, he had seen Mrs. Belswin enter the study, but here his truth ceased and his lies began. Fearing lest his name should be mentioned by the infuriated woman during the interview, which would be sure to end in the discomfiture of Mrs. Belswin the lawyer, trembling for his respectable position, went to his bedroom and took his air-pistol, so as to be prepared for emergencies. It is but fair to Mr. Dombrain to say that he had no intention of using the weapon unless everything was lost; so, creeping out of the house, he placed himself beside the open window of the study, in order to hear what Mrs. Belswin would say.
In accordance with his expectations, she did tell Sir Rupert all about him, and when Dombrain heard the declaration of the baronet that he would denounce him, he knew that all was lost, and that the sin of his early youth was going to cost him the respectable position of his middle age. When Mrs. Belswin, thrust forth by her unforgiving husband, fled out into the night, Dombrain, trembling, sick at heart at seeing all that made his life worth living vanish, crouched still beside the window, and here Sir Rupert, who had come out to make sure that his divorced wife had taken herself off, found him.
Then an interview between the lawyer and the baronet took place, in which the latter swore to reveal all the infamy of Dombrain, and have him struck off the rolls. In vain the wretched man pleaded for mercy. Coldly and inflexibly the baronet thrust him out of doors, the same way he had done his wife; and then mad with anger at the terrible future before him, Dombrain shot Sir Rupert, in the manner described by Belk in the witness-box. After committing the crime and assuring himself that his victim was dead, he coolly stepped across the body, and took refuge in his own room, from whence he did not emerge for the rest of the night. It was true, as he said, that his room was near the head of the staircase, for he saw Mrs. Belswin leave the study as he described, so it was then that the idea came into his head to secure himself by sacrificing her, and thus both save and revenge himself at one time.
On leaving the court after having been denounced by Belk, his rage against all the world for his thwarted revenge and his perilous position knew no bounds. He had no idea of escaping justice, but determined before he was seized to punish the woman who had--as he believed--dragged him down even lower than his former position. Then he had simply embezzled money, but now he had committed a crime for which he would lose his life; and thus, seeing that his doom was fixed, he determined that Mrs. Belswin should suffer for placing him in such a perilous position.
With this idea in his head, he took the air-pistol with which he had killed Sir Rupert, and went to the lodgings of the dead man's daughter and Mrs. Belswin. Skilfully managing to evade the notice of the servant, he ensconced himself behind the curtains in the drawing-room, and shot the unhappy woman as described. At first, knowing how bitter it would be to Mrs. Belswin, he had intended to kill Kaituna, but the unexpected action of the mother had saved the daughter from a terrible death. Satisfied with his work, Dombrain threw down the pistol and disappeared--disappeared into the depths of London, from whence he never emerged. What became of him nobody ever knew. Whether he took another name, and resumed his profession in provincial England; whether he left the country; whether he died in the gutter, no one ever discovered. Falling into the immense ocean of London like a drop of rain, he became obliterated, lost, unknown, but no doubt in due time he met his reward for his evil doings.
And his victim? Alas, poor soul, her troubles, her trials, her follies, were all at an end, and a simple cross marked the place where she was buried. To that humble grave, a year after the events described, came Mr. and Mrs. Maxwell, in reverence for the memory of the woman--the mother who had given her life for that of her child. Maxwell had married Kaituna in due course after a decent time had elapsed from the death of Mrs. Belswin, and later on he had gone to South America, on business connected with his profession; for, in spite of Kaituna's wealth, Archie could not bring himself to live upon her income. He had gone away for a few months to Buenos Ayres, and had now returned to the side of Kaituna for ever. After much difficulty she had persuaded him to accept her view of the question, and share the proceeds of the Pole Star Mine. To this, after much hesitation, Maxwell consented, and now the husband and wife had arranged to make a tour of the world together. Before leaving England, however, they came to Kensal Green cemetery to pay a last visit to the grave of the woman who had sinned, but who also had suffered.
"Poor mother!" said Kaituna, as she leaned on the strong arm of her husband. "What a terribly bitter life she had, and her death was hardly less sad."
"She saved you, my darling," replied Maxwell, with a fond smile; "and that, in her eyes, was recompense enough for the sudden ending of her life."
"If that wretch who killed her had only been punished?"
"I've no doubt he is punished. It is true he escaped the hands of men, but I am certain he will not escape the punishment of God. But come, my dear Kaituna, these thoughts make you sad. Let us leave this dreary place."
"Yes; but see, Archie, that withered wreath of roses! It has been placed there by Ferrari, I am sure."
"But I thought he had gone to Italy."
"Only three weeks ago! He came to me and talked a great deal about our poor mother, whom he loved very dearly in his own impulsive way. But now he is back in his own country, he no doubt will forget about her. Men have such short memories."
"Don't say that. Remember Belk."
"Oh, he will go the same way," said Kaituna, a little bitterly. "Certainly he behaved very well, for he used to bring flowers here every week, along with Ferrari. How these two men must have loved my mother!"
"She deserved their love," replied Maxwell, after a pause. "She had sinned, it is true, but she was bitterly punished for her sin. Well, she lies here, and the two men who loved her have gone far away--one to Italy, the other to America."
"Ah, all our friends go thus!"
"Not all, my dear. Remember Toby Clendon and his wife, who are living so happily at Deswarth. We must go down and see them before we leave England."
"No, no!" said Kaituna, with a sudden shudder. "I cannot bear to go near Thornstream after those terrible events which cost the lives of both my parents."
"Come, dear one," urged Maxwell, seeing how overcome she was with emotion, "let us go away."
"One moment," replied Kaituna, kneeling beside the grave. "I must say farewell to my poor mother."
And kneeling there in the long green grass, she breathed a prayer for the soul of her unhappy mother, whose natural love had cost her so dear.
Maxwell, who had removed his hat when he heard this prayer mount like incense to the throne of God, quoted a text from the Scriptures in a low voice--
"She suffered much, so much shall be forgiven of her!"