My Mother's Predicament. A tale

Front matter

MY MOTHER'S PREDICAMENT. A TALE. BY JOHN BULMER, B.D., Mus. Bac, Of University College, Durham, &> Trinity College, Dublin. Ccuj&mj : R. WASHBOURNE, 18 PATERNOSTER ROW. 1893. PREFATORY NOTE. This is a story concerning a mother and her son, and gives an account of certain things that befell them during a somewhat trying period of their life. It will be told partly by myself (Henry Smyth), and partly by my mother (Eleanor Smyth), and partly also by our family solicitor (Septimus Giles).

Chapter I

[The Narrative begun by Henry Smyth.] My FATHER was a clergyman of the Church of England, who for some years held a pleasant country rectory in the suburbs of London. And this is nearly all that I know, directly, respecting him ; for he died early, when I was little more than an infant, leaving my mother and myself — her only child — to lament his premature loss. As it fortunately happened, we were well, indeed amply, provided for ; partly through the will of my deceased parent, and partly through some additional fortune of her own, which my mother derived from her family. The combined income was probably not much short of a thousand a year. We continued to live, though in a different house and a different village, in the same quarter of the north London district. My mother — whose nature was all amiability and gentleness — was devoted to me, and, until I was of a suitable age to be sent to a public school, herself undertook the work of my early education.

I can never forget, or be sufficiently thankful for, her devotedness : how she taught me everything herself, sparing no pains or trouble ; how she even learned Latin, in order to ground me in my first rudiments ; how patient she was, how indulgent ; how thoughtful for all B my little wants ; above all, how solicitous that I should be imbued with every good moral and religious principle. Child as I was, I could yet appreciate her care and attachment, and became myself proportionately attached. We were all in all to each other. The quiet tenour, however, of these happy years of childhood and boyhood was at last to be broken. An unexpected change was at hand ; and one, the strange and long-enduring conse quences of which could least of all have been anticipated. I had been sent to school, the King's school at Canterbury ; and on my return, at the end of one half-year, for the summer vacation, my mother proposed relieving the quiet monotony of our little country village (Blanchdale) by a few weeks' sojourn at one of the fashionable watering-places.

It would be a nice change, she thought, for both of us. Brighton was de cided upon, and we went there accordingly, taking up our quarters at a principal hotel. Among the company whom we met with at the daily table d'hote was a Air. Hawker, a person of gentlemanly manners, and, to judge by his carriage and bearing, somewhat after the military style. He was middle-aged, tall, and well-proportioned, and what would be considered handsome. His conversational powers were above the average, and his experiences of life at home and abroad enabled him to be very interesting and entertaining to us. Aly mother and I saw much of him from day to day in the common sitting-rooms of the hotel ; and our acquaintance seemed gradually to become estab lished on quite a familiar and intimate footing. On more than one occasion he came and took tea with us in our private apartment above BEGUN BY HENRY SMYTH. 3 stairs.

His conversation, as I have stated, was such as to attract, and he shewed good sense and feeling in the most of what he said. I readily perceived that my mother was favour ably impressed by him, and liked him ; but I was too young, at the age of fourteen, to penetrate beneath the surface, or to detect any deeper significance — anything beyond the cordialities of friendly intercourse — in the newly-established acquaintance. Had I been older and more experienced in the ways of the world, I might, not improbably, have entertained suspicion of Mr. Hawker as a fortune-hunter ! It was, therefore, some su. rise to me, as our visit to Brighton drew to a close, to be informed by my mother that she was engaged to be re married. " And I am sure, my dear," she said, " you will like your new papa ; indeed, you and he already get on famously together !

" But this was not only a surprise. As I presently tried to realise it, it was a great shock to me. Mutually devoted as we had been, I could not endure the thought of any rival in my mother's affection, of any other favoured object that might cause a distance between us. And I tearfully expressed myself to this effect. My mother, in her sweet winning way, sought to comfort and reassure me. "Aly darling Henry," she said, " you will lose nothing, believe me ; you will only gain. You will have all your mother's love, the same as ever ; and you will have a father to love you, besides ; a good kind father, in place of your first dear papa, whom — whom — " Her emotion did not allow her to complete the sentence ; and I saw the tear-drop steal down her cheek, as she turned away from me towards the window.

Still, I did not feel reconciled. For I had by no means (as it happened) conceived unqualified admiration for my proposed step father. It was true that he had patronised and amused me ; also that he appeared pleasant and charming enough in the drawing-room circle, especially while in confabulation with my mother. But I was sufficiently observant to have noted certain casts of his countenance at other times, and even one or two chance inflexions of voice and turns of speech, which were suggestive of a less amiable disposition and of less refinement of character. And on one occasion in particular, during one of their tete-a-tetes, when my dear mother happened to turn aside from him for a few seconds, I observed, by the reflexion of a small mirror affixed to the wall close by, a sudden alteration of his features into so ill-favoured and revolting — sohorribly sly and wicked — an expres sion, as absolutely to frighten me, as I gazed upon it.

I told my mother, in my boyish sim plicity, my various little misgivings, to which she listened with her usual patient attention, smiling kindly ; but when I came to the reflection of the mirror, " Oh, my dear boy ! " she cried ; " why, the mirror was convex ! — who would ever think of reading any one's countenance and character by the elongations and distortions produced in a convex mirror r Just go and look at your own face in it, and see what a monster you must needs be ! " And she could not forbear laugh ing heartily at the illusion which had so traduced poor Air. Hawker to me ! As to the rest, she reminded me that no one's state — physical or mental — was always equable ; and that the best of men were liable to their occasional fits of absence, or depression, or irritation. After this, I had nothing further to say.

Whatever account of himself, his position and circumstances, Air. THE NARRATIVE CONTINUED BY' HENRY SMY'TH. 5 Hawker had given my dear mother, it had, no doubt, been one entirely satisfactory to her own mind ; and if she was satisfied, I felt that I should do right in being satisfied too. At the same time, after this interview, — as though there had been something in what I said, some thought worth pondering, — I noticed a certain alteration in my mother's manner ; she seemed occasionally abstracted and pre-occupied, and at times wore even an anxious and troubled look. This, however, was only in her more private moments ; before others, and especially in the fascinating presence of one favoured individual, the cloud readily lifted and disappeared, and she was herself as usual. After a few days of further pleasant inter course, — during which Air.

Hawker almost lived with us in our little drawing-room above stairs, — our visit to the Brighton hotel came to an end, and my mother returned with me (but under how different circumstances, and with what different prospects from the quiet uneventful life of only six weeks before !) to our villa at Blanchdale.

Chapter II

[The Narrative continued by Henry Smyth.] The wedding was presently fixed to take place — not at our own village church at Blanchdale, as might have been expected — but, for some reasons of convenience or necessity, in London, at one of the city churches. And it was fixed for the same day on which I had to return to school at Canterbury. I was to be present at it, and after the ceremony, to go on to my destination under the escort of one of the ushers of the King's school, who would call for me at our hotel in the course of the forenoon. And this, on the whole, seemed to me to have been planned in the best way; as, of course, the bride and bridegroom would need to leave me immediately after, in order to proceed on their wedding trip. They purposed going to the Isle of Wight, en route for the continent.

There was little in connexion with the cere mony at the church that requires to be recorded. The matrimonial knot was tied as quietly and privately as possible, there being no company present, except, of course, the legal number of witnesses, including a Air. Bush, who attended my step-father in the capacity of ' best man.' Of this Air. Bush a brief description may here be subjoined. He was a stumpy, thick-set little man, of dark complexion, with a prominent nose, and very bushy hair and whiskers. The words he said were very few, and he was rather abrupt and awkward in his manner, wanting, as it appeared to me, in the ease and grace of a gentle man ; and I thought that my dear mother, on their first introduction at the church, wore rather a look of surprise. However, he did his part on the occasion, and was at least inoffensive.

He left us hurriedly after the service was over, on the plea of some early business engagement. We had returned on foot to our hotel (where my mother had ordered breakfast to be prepared for three, in expectation of a visitor!), and were just lingering on the flags before entering, when suddenly a respectably-dressed young woman, — accompanied by a young man, who seemed to THE NARRATIVE CONTINUED BY HENRY' SMYTH. 7 bear a family resemblance to her, — coming up quickly from behind, laid her hand upon the arm of my step-father, and, with a countenance flushed and agitated, and in a tone of indignant reproach, exclaimed : " Joe, Joe! and so we have found you at last, Joe ! Where have you been hiding all these months r Aren't you ashamed of such behaviour r" Mr. Hawker started back violently from this unexpected recognition, and turning pale, stood for an instant speechless.

Then, motioning us into the hotel, he said, " Excuse me, while I deal with these strange people ; they are under some mistake." But he did not deal with them. Darting across the street, he hailed and entered the nearest hackney-coach, and drove rapidly away, leaving them under their hallucinations ! "Oho! that's the game, is it?" said the young man. " But that won't do." And forthwith the pair, securing another cab, posted away in eager pursuit of the fugitive. My mother and I stood amazed, thunderstruck. Neither of us knew what to think of it. Presently, on noting the look of trouble, and of terror, that was overspreading her countenance, I asked : " What is it, dear mother r what does it mean ." " I don't know, dear," she answered, with a heaving of the chest ; " something, I fear, is wrong, but I don't know what.

I've no notion what it all means. I hope it mayn't mean some thing serious, something dreadful. Aly head is in a whirl ; I must go in, and sit down, and think." The whole scene had been so rapidly enacted that I had little time to observe anything beyond the particulars already specified ; yet, there was one other circumstance which caught my quick attention ; and which, though a small one, had subsequently an importance in influencing and directing our speculations. The female hand, which I had seen grasp my step-father's arm, displayed a gold ring on its fourth finger ! We had now gone into the hotel ; and my mother set me down to my breakfast alone, — all full of boyish wonder at the present strange sequel to her marriage. " I want to think for a little time by myself," she said ; and therewith retired to her bedroom.

After some half-hour had elapsed, she returned, all dressed and equipped, as though for travel ling, and with our hotel-bill, duly receipted, in her hand. I noticed a rather striking change in her. She appeared to have been 'thinking' to some purpose. The anxious and scared expres sion had passed away from her face, and she was self-possessed and quite herself. She was even more than quite herself; for her usually soft and gently-mobile features had acquired a firmness and a hardness, almost a rigidity, which was foreign to them, and which puzzled me not a little. She had the appearance of one who had come to some stony determination, some unalterable and tremendous resolution ! In as tonishment, I was beginning, " Why, mother !" when she cut me short summarily. " Now, my dear Henry," she said, as she poured herself out a cup of tea and took a piece of toast, " I want you to ask no questions, but to attend to me.

You will wait here quietly till the usher calls for you, and then go on with him to Canterbury. And you know, Henry, that I have to part from you to-day for a little while ; only for a little while," she added, fondly, the usual kind smile re-illumining her features. " Well, now, I find that the time has already come, and THE NARRATIVE CONTINUED BY HENRY SMYTH. 9 that I am compelled to say ' good-bye ' at once. — Good-bye, dear Henry, good-bye ! " And she kissed me fervently and repeatedly. " What ? so soon, mother ? and have you found Mr. Hawker again ?" I said. " It's all right, dear," she answered, somewhat equivocally, and very composedly. " But don't ask me more questions now, as you see I have to hurry. I will write to you to-morrow, and tell you all that you need to know. And meanwhile, I have a strict charge for you, Henry.

Say nothing to anyone of what has taken place to day, — nothing either of the marriage or of what followed. Be very careful about this. I have my reasons, which you will know in due time." And so, with the hotel porter carrying her things, she went forth to the do or, where a cab was waiting. I watched her with tears in my eyes (for I felt that it was a different kind of separation from any we had ever yet had), as she entered the vehicle, murmured a brief instruction to the driver, and then sped rapidly away. She was unaccompanied, I saw ; Mr. Hawker had not returned ! I had a long dreary two hours to wait before the usher came and took me on with him to school. The only thing of any interest that occurred to break the interval was the arrival of a telegraphic message addressed to my mother ("Mrs Eleanor Smyth ").

I did not know what to do with it ; as I had no clue to my mother's whereabouts. But the good lady at the bar told me that under the circumstances (for, of course, she didn't knowr of the rights of a certain third party) I might be justified in opening it, and that it would be as well to do so. I may be pardoned if, in my existing anxious curiosity, I followed this recommendation. The message was, as I anticipated, from Air. Hawker : " Aleet me, as soon as possible, at Waterloo station. Have been dreadfully annoyed. Will tell you all at Waterloo." I could do nothing, of course ; and could conjecture nothing ; unless it were that, not improbably, my mother had already anticipated my step-father's request, and was now hearing the recital of his singular adventure at the rendezvous mentioned, which I knew to be the station whence they had intended to start on their tour. In the course of the afternoon I had arrived at the King's school, and was receiving and recipro cating the welcomes of my school-companions.

Chapter III

[The Narrative taken up by Eleanor Smyth.] On the eve of my second marriage, my mind had become seriously disturbed as to the real character of the individual with whom I had somewhat hastily and impulsively consented to ally myself. And this, partly through some boyish dislike, expressed to me by my son Henry, which, while I shewed it to be fanciful and unreasonable, yet seemed, in some subtle manner, to communicate an uneasiness to me ; but also, and still more, from one or two independent questionings of my own mind, which did not seem as fully satisfied as I had I 11 wished and expected. But the grounds of my misgiving being rather of a negative character, I felt, or fancied, that I could not, — lightly, and without something more positive and tangible to go upon, — attempt to draw back from an engagement to which I had once freely pledged myself.

Such an attempt would scarcely appear honourable ; and moreover, I did not seem to have the moral strength and pluck to face the immediate personal unpleasantness, and conflict of wills, to which it might give rise. Hence, I acquiesced in the inevitable, and allowed myself to be led to the altar, — putting the best and most cheerful face upon it I could. It was not long, however, before I had reason to regret my over-scrupulousness and my want of a little more courage. The very first sight of the creature Bush before the altar was sufficient to revive all my previous misgivings in tenfold force. A respectably-dressed indivi dual, it was true ; but as common, and slouching, and hang-dog looking a fellow as ever I beheld. What manner of bridegroom must he be, who could require to have such a specimen of humanity for his ' best man ' !

My heart began to sink and quail within me. But when, presently, there occurred that never to-be-forgotten incident on the step of the hotel, then all my rapidly-increasing apprehensions were but too fully realized. I seemed to know instinctively and infallibly that all was wrong. Nothing could ever explain that to my satisfaction. That was the climax ; and I felt that I required no further evidence. By an initial act of imprudence, succeeded by a weakness of feeling, which I mistook for conscientiousness, I had gone and delivered myself over to the hands and to the mercy of a fortune-hunter, who (for all I could tell) might, under a fair and specious disguise, be the very worst and most detestable of villains! 'Heaven help me!' I exclaimed mentally. What was I to do ? Could I do any thing ?

The temporary absence of my new 'lord and master ' fortunately gave me the chance of considering this point. I at once retired and did my best to collect myself. And I saw that it was a case for prompt action, or for none at all. There was no knowing what might depend on the use of the present favourable moment. A bold step, instantly taken, might be salvation to me ; whereas any weak dallying might prove infinitely disastrous. It must be, in fact, a word and a blow, and the blow first. In less than half-an-hour I conceived my plan, arranged my departure, had my breakfast, gave my last injunctions and valedictions to my son, and was gone ! Gone where ? Ah, that I did not yet know. I simply drove in the direction farthest from our intended route, and arriving at King's Cross, in time to catch one of the expresses, booked to the nearest stopping station (which happened to be Peterborough), with the intention of paying on, if I felt minded to go further.

And I did feel minded to go further. ' In for a penny, in for a pound,' I thought. If a distance must needs be placed between my new husband and myself, it might as well be a tolerably safe one. I there fore passed by Peterborough, and went speeding on and on. Grantham, Doncaster, York, Dar lington, I flew past them all, rejoicing in the sense of liberty and escape, yet not without occasional fears and tremblings, lest somewhere or other I might be pounced upon either by a telegram or a constable or even by Air. Hawker in person ! But I could not travel on for ever ; I must needs stop at last; and the afternoon was now well advanced. We were approaching Durham, and I decided that that quiet Cathedral city would be a suitable and secure halting-place. I went to the principal hotel and stayed the night ; and the next day found comfortable private lodgings on the western and less fre quented bank of the river.

After I had sufficiently recovered from the exhaustion induced by the strain and excitement I had undergone, I set myself seriously to con sider the ' situation.' Had I done right or wrong ? In an ordinary way, for a wife to remove her self out of the jurisdiction of her lawful husband, was indefensible ; I was quite aware of that ; but it seemed to me that Air. Hawker's own desertion of me (for had he not himself deserted me in the most open and glaring manner at the very commencement of our wedded life r) ; — Air. Hawker's own desertion of me was, surely, sufficient to account for my having somehow missed him in the crowd of London ! — and perhaps also sufficient to justify my remaining lost to him for a short space, while I made certain inquiries, suggested by his conduct, and also could be properly advised on the subject of my relations to him !

I therefore made my conscience entirely easy upon this point. I could not get the image of Air. Bush out of my mind ; and the more I thought of that singularly unprepossessing individual, and his apparent close intimacy with my husband, the more I felt justified in my present precautions. I cannot to this day imagine why the somewhat stylish Air. Hawker should have run the risk of producing the man before the matrimonial knot had been actually tied between us ! After settling myself in my retreat, and being now sufficiently calm and collected in mind, I proceeded to write down a full and particular statement of everything that had taken place from first to last, — everything, in short, known to the reader of these papers, — for the perusal of our family solicitor, Air. Septimus Giles, who did not stand in the relation merely of a 'man of business,' but had long been an intimate and attached friend of both my late dear husband and myself.

With him, I felt it would be at once foolish and impolitic to suppress anything which my pride or self-love might prefer concealed or extenuated. I therefore did not seek to spare myself, but made an honest clean breast of everything con nected with my imprudence at Brighton. I for warded my statement to him, and asked him to give me speedily his professional and friendly counsel. I wrote also, as I had promised, to my boy Henry at Canterbury, and told him as much as, — at the present stage of things, — was possible and advisable. As he must know the facts sooner or later, I did not hesitate to express my con viction that there was something wrong in connection with his newly-acquired step-father, something which would require very careful, and perhaps very secret, investigation. I enjoined upon him the strictest reticence, in regard to our visit at Brighton, the marriage, and the strange circumstances attending it.

Above all, I im pressed upon him the absolute necessity of my present whereabouts being kept a profound secret ; and in order to facilitate this, and to preclude the chance of anything being extracted from him, which might suggest even the most distant surmise upon the point, I purposely wrote to him (I said) from ' no place,' forwarding my letter not directly, but, under cover, through our solicitor Air. Giles. I told him, of course, how sorry I was that the very peculiar circumstances compelled me to use such extreme precautions ; and assured him that it could only be for a very short time, so far as he was concerned, from whom I never had any unnecessary secrets. Meanwhile, I bade him keep his mind free from all worry, and from all idle wonderings, and apply himself steadily to his school-work, and believe me ever, with much love, his affec tionate mother, Eleanor Smyth, or, if he liked it as well, Eleanor Smith.

For that was the way in which I proposed writing my name in my present seclusion. I added in a postscript that our intercommuni cations by letter would be just as free and fre quent as usual, only, always under cover through Mr. Giles, of No. i, Bedford Row, London. In the course of a day or two the expected reply arrived from the solicitor. As it lies here on my desk before me, and as I cannot save much space by giving an epitome of its contents, I may as well simply transcribe it as it stands : — 1, Bedford Row, London, August 11, 1 86 1. My dear Mrs. Smyth, You are, indeed, in a predicament, as you say. I shall not make any attempt to deny the want of pru dence to which you plead guilty ; but neither am I going to lecture you upon it. We are all liable to be imprudent sometimes. My business is simply to shield you, so far as possible, from the ill consequences ofyourunfortunateact.

For, that it should turn out other than an unfortunate one, I have little expectation. The various circumstances which you have detailed, furnish, to my mind, a sufficient moral justification for your seeking to secure yourself, until the suspicious matters connected with Air Hawker can be looked into, and satisfactorily explained. This latter, I fear, judging by experience, they are not likely to be. There are two principal things to be done : i st, to institute without delay the needful inquiry con cerning Messrs. Hawker and Bush (as they call them selves), especially the former. This may involve time and trouble ; but you may be assured that I will spare no pains in your interest. I am glad that you have been able to supply me with a portrait of Mr. Hawker. It may come in usefully in aid of our investigations.

I wish we could also have possessed one of his companion, especially as he is such a handsome man, you say ! And now, 2ndly, pending inquiry, we have to secure your personal liberty and freedom from molestation. This is all-important, but it may possibly be difficult. Don't be alarmed at what I am about to say : — This Air Hawker, being, as I suppose, legally your husband (that is to say, I take this for granted, for the present), — has a legal right to the possession of your person, which no one can withstand ; and I fear, moreover, to the control of the great bulk of your means. With the exception of that principal, which, by his father's will, is secured ultimately to Henry, and the interest arising from it, which is protected by my co-guardianship, I believe he can handle everything : — not far from ,£20,000 probably ; for your funds have greatly increased of late years, through the prosperity of investments.

You will see from this what an interest he has in you, and how anxious he must be to find you. And you may rely upon it, he will leave no stone unturned in order to do so, — and until he does so. Now, I don't want you to be alarmed. I am only putting matters at the worst, and they may not come to that ; and if they should, why, by that time, we may have found some means of becoming 'upsides' with this Air. Hawker ! If he is what I half-suspect him to be, I think it very probable we shall. But to return : it will require all our caution, and a little good luck besides, to keep him in ignorance of your whereabouts. He will spare no exertion, and never rest, till he has traced you out. He will, of course, pay a visit to Blanchdale, and ascer tain all he can there ; which, however, cannot be much.