Mrs. D'Alton was mortified; she had imagined that those people whom she met at the seaside would have judged her on her merits, and would not have taken the trouble to inquire concerning her antecedents. She did not calculate that, what may be allowable at a summer resort, would not be tolerated in Montreal society; moreover, that the tongue of slander had been busily engaged in painting her even blacker than she really was, so that these people, even if personally disposed to a.s.sociate with her, _dared_ not do so lest they might lose their own insecure foothold on the ladder of social position. In moody silence she presided throughout the entire evening; she was enraged at herself and at the poor enslaved creatures who, though anxious to go and enjoy themselves yet dared not infringe the rules laid down by society; and, as she drank gla.s.s after gla.s.s of her husband's famous Moselle, she became more and more despondent.

About midnight Amy Watson, the sister of the nursery-governess, took her departure, and Mr. D'Alton with his friends, went up to the billiard room to enjoy themselves at their favorite game. It was near daylight ere they grew tired of pocketing the ivory spheres, and left their host to close the doors, and retire to his room. When he did so what a sight met his gaze! There lay his wife in all the finery she had arrayed herself to dazzle her fashionable acquaintances, _a speechless corpse_!

a brandy-bottle, nearly emptied, lay at her side, telling too plainly what had been the cause of her untimely death. Her husband's first impulse was to ring the bell and send for a doctor, but, knowing the scandal that would surely ensue, he quietly let himself out, and went for Dr. Hickson, being determined not to give up hope till he had done all that could possibly be done. The doctor on examining the body shook his head ominously, confirming Mr. D'Alton in the belief that his wife was no more; he considerately agreed to remain in the house, and not to inform the servants for some time of the occurrence. The doctor's presence, of course, excited some alarm, and in a short time it was known that Mrs. D'Alton was dangerously ill, the announcement of her death being reserved for a time till all the traces of the recent festivities were removed, and the house had resumed its normal condition.

When the children heard of their mother's death they rent the air with their cries of anguish; even Miss Watson shed real tears, her occupation, like that of Oth.e.l.lo, being gone. Poor Mr. D'Alton was almost beside himself. He had never loved another woman; and, though he was not blind to his wife's failings and shortcomings, he nevertheless lamented the loss of one, who, whatever her faults, was true to him and a good mother to his children.

In the meantime what had become of Cissie Wilson, Mrs. D'Alton's elder sister? She had endeavored to persuade Mrs. D'Alton to engage her as governess to her children, but the latter, once married, refused to hold any communication with her whatever. Miss Wilson then despairing of finding a road to reform in Montreal, took her departure for Toronto, taking a position as governess in one of the leading families there. On hearing of her sister's death she wrote to Mr. D'Alton, offering to take charge of the children till he had time to make permanent arrangements for their education. To this letter she received no reply, which nettled her so much that she determined on a plot for wounding the pride of her haughty brother-in-law. "Who is he," she would exclaim, "that he should dare to snub me?" "If I _have_ sinned, was _she_ not equally bad, and is he not guilty _himself_?" "Never mind, Mr. D'Alton, I will have my revenge some day." She racked her brain to think of some means of repaying him for his severity to her, but could think of nothing at the time, and so resolved to wait and watch her opportunity.

It was some years before Miss Wilson had that opportunity for which her heart so yearned, but come it did, surely enough, and she dealt to Mr.

D'Alton a blow so bitter that he never got over its effects.

Lillian, Mr. D'Alton's eldest daughter had, after her mother's death, been sent to a fashionable school in Mansfield street, presided over by the wife of one of our leading brokers. Here she made many friends, and being known only as the beautiful and accomplished daughter of a rich widower doing business in Montreal, and well known on the Exchange, she was in time introduced into society, and became at one bound the belle of the season.

At that time several British regiments occupied the Quebec Gate barracks, and the officers were eagerly sought after by the party-giving community, no ball being complete without at least two or three officers in _full uniform_. Among the latter was a certain Captain Trevelyan, the heir-apparent of an English n.o.bleman, who was, of course _the_ eligible young gentleman of the season. Most of the ladies openly courted Captain Trevelyan and, figuratively speaking, laid themselves at his feet; but Lillian D'Alton was too little versed in such matters to know the triumph she had achieved in being sought after as a partner by the much-admired Captain, and, when he asked her to dance although she complied readily with his request, yet she carried herself with an air so natural, and altogether so different from the time-worn belles he was so accustomed to meet, that he engaged her for dance after dance, then for supper, and, before the ball was concluded, he was deeply in love with her, none the less because she was the only young lady in the room who did not covet that distinction.

Although Lillian was but eighteen years of age, she could not but perceive the marked attention paid to her by Captain Trevelyan, nor was she blind to the glances of envious hatred darted at her from all quarters. Her heart responded to the unspoken avowal of her partner, and ere they parted that night they were one in heart and in thought, each living only for and in the presence of the other.

Youthful love makes rapid progress. Ere many months had pa.s.sed Lillian D'Alton was the affianced bride of Captain Trevelyan, and their approaching wedding was the one theme of conversation at b.a.l.l.s, routes or parties.

Here then was the opportunity longed for by Miss Wilson. She would inform Captain Trevelyan and his friends concerning the D'Alton family, and warn him to break off his engagement. With a refinement of cruelty peculiar to women blinded with rage, she allowed the wedding day to be fixed before she communicated with the bridegroom, and then sent him a complete history of the family he was about to enter, informing him that the lady he was about to marry was the illegitimate child of Mr.

D'Alton, and that in marrying her he would not only injure his own prospects, but alienate himself completely from his family, bringing on them both shame and discredit.

Captain Trevelyan read the letter with astonishment, but did not believe one word it contained. His Lillian a b.a.s.t.a.r.d! why the thing was preposterous. Her father was as well known on 'Change as Rothschild was in London. Her mother's funeral had been attended by the wealth and fashion of Montreal, and since that time Lillian had been the acknowledged belle of the set commonly known as "the upper ten." The letter being written in rather extravagant terms, he imagined it to contain the incoherent ravings of a maniac, and his first impulse was to toss it aside. On the arrival of the English mail, however, he received letters from his friends, couched in terms of the deepest anxiety, urging him to sever all connection with the D'Alton family if he did not wish to alienate himself completely from all his family and friends. These letters led him to think more seriously concerning the communication from Toronto, and being determined, come what might, to know the worst at once, he started immediately for Mr. D'Alton's residence, only to find that the gentleman in question had just that moment departed for his office.

Lillian was at home, however, and she rushed downstairs impetuously to meet her affianced husband. He received her as usual, but there was a cloud on his brow as he followed her into her boudoir, where they frequently spent hours together. He questioned her concerning her aunt and her relations generally, but Lillian knew little more than that her aunt resided in Toronto, and was generally considered to be what is called "flighty."

This somewhat rea.s.sured Trevelyan, and he dismissed the subject for a time from his mind. He determined, however, to clear the matter up, and so in the evening he called to see Mr. D'Alton, requesting a few words with him in private. The two men entered the study, and Trevelyan led off by saying:--"I have received a strange communication from your sister-in-law, Miss Wilson; from what Lillian has told me, I am aware that she is a person of weak intellect, and her stories are not worthy of credence, but I thought it due to you, nevertheless, to bring the matter to your notice."

At the mention of Miss Wilson's name D'Alton turned deadly pale. He was a bold man, and capable of carrying out a deep scheme, had he felt so disposed; but this intimacy of Trevelyan with his daughter was the result of no scheme, and he had for some years lived, with the rest of his family, a blameless life, rejoicing in the fact that his neighbors either did not know, or had forgotten, or overlooked his past career, and were prepared to receive his children with open arms into society.

With bated breath he ran his eyes hastily over the letter held out to him by Trevelyan, and in an instant he saw the whole situation. If he could only have had time to consider the matter, he would probably have taken the right course, come what might; but he had little time for decision, as Trevelyan stood before him, eagerly expecting a reply. Mr.

D'Alton pictured to himself the state of affairs did he acknowledge the truth of the accusation, and though loath to deceive the young man (whom he already loved almost as dearly as his own son), he dared not ruin his daughter's prospects by an avowal. Pretending to read the letter once more he gained a little time, and then, with consummate diplomacy, endeavored to find out what Trevelyan thought. Looking up coolly, he said--

"And do you believe all this, Trevelyan?"

Of course, Trevelyan _did not_ believe it, and was profuse in his apologies, for having permitted himself to doubt for a moment that the writer was bereft of reason. This confirmed Mr. D'Alton in his course and he at once denounced his sister-in-law in no measured terms, vowing to punish her for her irresponsible utterances. The news that Miss Wilson had written to Captain Trevelyan's friends in England made D'Alton furious, and he swore a fearful oath that he would place her where her ravings would harm no one but herself. All night long he thought over schemes for getting rid of her, and at length he concocted a plan which he speedily put into execution.

As was said before, Mrs. D'Alton and her sister were orphans and they both left their adopted parents early in life, having lived under a.s.sumed names for years, and severed all connection with their former a.s.sociates. During Mrs. D'Alton's lifetime her sister was forbidden to approach the house, and on the death of the former Miss Wilson was not recognized by her brother-in-law. The children had never seen or known their aunt, and the people with whom she had last resided in Montreal (in the capacity of nursery-governess) had known her as Miss Rogers, and had lately lost all trace of her whereabouts.

Taking the early train for Toronto, Mr. D'Alton took counsel of an astute lawyer, and learned that, as events had been shapen, Miss Wilson would have now great difficulty in proving her connection with the D'Alton family, did he choose to deny it, and that the fact of her having written such letters as those received by Trevelyan and his family would be fair presumptive evidence that the woman was insane.

Carefully considering his position, D'Alton determined on his course of proceeding. He was averse to a public prosecution, as many things, now unknown or forgotten, might be brought to light, and yet he felt that the woman must be effectually silenced by some means or other. Going to her residence he boldly demanded an interview with her, and, producing the letter to Trevelyan, asked if she had written it. Miss Wilson laughed as she saw the effect of her shot, and exultantly exclaimed:--"Of course I wrote it; who else _could_ have done it?"

"And are you aware that you are liable to be prosecuted for libel?"

pursued D'Alton.

"It is no libel," retorted she, fiercely; "you know it is true, or you would not be here now."

"Indeed! _can you prove it, then_?"

"I have no need to prove it to you. Your very facial expression acknowledges it to be true."

"Will that satisfy the jury?"

"What jury?"

"The jury who are to try you for a malicious libel!"

At this Cissie started, but recovering herself exclaimed: "_You_ dare not sue me for libel. Your history would not stand repet.i.tion in court."

"Who knows my history?"

"I do!"

"Indeed! WHO ARE YOU?"

The fierceness with which he said this made his sister-in-law quail. She perceived that he was terribly in earnest as he repeated his question in a tone very unusual with him, and she meekly replied:

"You know well enough who I am, your late wife's sister."

"My wife _had no sister_!"

The look he gave as he said this fairly frightened her. She had seen a good deal of life, and had in her time met with all kinds of men and women, but never till now did she fear either. She began to see that she had roused a desperate man, and that, legally, she had no hold on him, neither status in society; moreover that she had got entangled in the meshes of her own net, and that only the dread of exposure would prevent D'Alton from prosecuting her for libel. Not knowing what to do, she remained mute, her eyes fixed firmly on the ground. At length Mr.

D'Alton broke the silence: "You have evidently had an object," he said, "in circulating these reports. If your object be to extort money out of me, you will find it more to your interest to remain silent." With these words he drew from his pocket a roll of bank bills, and laid them on the table near his companion; but she, growing livid with rage, refused to touch them, promising to expose him and his family before all the world.

D'Alton had not calculated on this, and was for a time taken a little aback. His last card, however, was not yet played; and, summoning all his energies together, he braced himself for the enactment of that, which under other circ.u.mstances, he would have suffered much rather than become in any sense a party thereto. Addressing the lady once more he said:--"What, then, was your object in writing these letters?"

"My object was _to disclose the truth_," she cried, vehemently, "to denounce you as a blackhearted villain, and to save an unsuspecting youth from becoming the victim of your deep-laid schemes."

D'Alton bit his lip with pa.s.sion, but restrained himself. "And you do all this solely from conscientious motives," he said with a sneer.

"My conscience, like your own, Mr. D'Alton, is pretty well hardened. No; I have no conscientious motives to impel me to show your true character to the world; but revenge is sweet, and I have not forgotten the scorn and contempt with which both you and your fashionable wife treated me while I was in Montreal. _I_ was not good enough to touch the hem of your garments, but _she_ was dressed up and paraded in the drawing-rooms of those who did not know better than to admit her, and now her b---- daughter is to wed a scion of a n.o.ble house, while _I_ am not even recognized. No, Robert D'Alton, you will not become respectable and leave _me_ out in the cold, insulting and spurning me at every turn with your petty offers of money. I have sworn to have my revenge, and by ---- now that the opportunity offers, I _will have it_, too!"

She had worked herself up to state of uncontrollable fury. Her eyes rolled wildly, and she looked like one demented. This gave the devil his opportunity, for D'Alton, who had been halting between two opinions, came to a hasty conclusion, and bringing the interview to a close, hurriedly left the house, his teeth firmly set, and a horrid glare in his eyes. He walked rapidly down Yonge street and along the east end of King street, then, hailing a cab, he directed the driver to travel towards the west end, coming to a halt opposite the Lunatic Asylum.

Entering he enquired for Dr. Tuffnell, and was informed that he would likely find that gentleman at his residence on Jarvis street. On repairing thither he found the doctor at home, and, requesting a few minutes' private conversation, was soon closeted in the consultation room. "I have long intended to see you," Mr. D'Alton began, "about a young lady who lived in our family some years ago in the capacity of nursery-governess. She was always of a somewhat flighty disposition, which we used to humour as best we could, and when she left us (at my wife's death) for Toronto, we fancied she had quite recovered, but it seems she has been gradually growing worse, and she now continually torments our friends and us with letters full of ridiculous flights of fancy, which, though meaningless to those who understand how she has been afflicted, might possibly cause serious trouble."

"Has the young lady, then, no friends or relatives?"

"None, whatever. She was taken out of an orphan asylum by an aged clergyman, now deceased, who adopted her, and since his death she has supported herself by teaching. We consulted our physician about her some time ago, when she imagined herself to be my wife, and ordered her mistress down to the kitchen. He thought it would be advisable for her to take another situation away from us till her health improved, as she was continually fancying herself trampled upon by some member of the family; we accordingly procured for her a situation in a friend's house in Montreal, but they in turn became frightened of her, and dismissed her, which dismissal, strange to say, she attributed _to me_. She now imagines herself to be my wife's sister, and demands an entrance into my house, denouncing me in the vilest terms, and writing scandalous letters to all my acquaintances."

"Are you sure she is insane?"

"Well, I have long tried to persuade myself that she is not, but latterly she has grown so violent that I am afraid that what I said years ago to my late wife in fun about her being demented was only painfully true. If you would kindly visit her and give me your opinion concerning her case, you would oblige me very much."

"What does her present mistress say about her?"

"Oh she has only been there a short time and has not yet given an exhibition of her oratorical powers. Still the lady who is a clergyman's widow, told me that she walks about her room in the middle of the night, talking wildly to herself."

Dr. Tuffnell had not time to visit Miss Wilson that morning, but he made an appointment with Mr. D'Alton for the following day, and together they went to the unfortunate girl's residence. Arrived at the house they rang the bell, and inquired for Mrs. Brookes, the mistress.