Part 12 (2/2)

I bowed again, but did not venture upon mere words of compliment.

”I am not sure,” said she, ”that my name even is known to you.”

”It is not,” I answered. ”You have seemed to avoid any allusion thereto, and delicacy forbade my asking.”

”There has been no purposed concealment. My name is Montgomery; and I am sister to the late Captain Allen.”

”I had already inferred this relations.h.i.+p.” The remark evidently surprised her.

”On what ground could you base such an inference?” she asked, curiously.

”On traditional ground. The history of this old mansion is familiar to most persons in S----; and some of the incidents connected with the family have too strong a tinge of romance about them to easily pa.s.s into oblivion. It is well known to us that Captain Allen had an only sister.”

”What is it said became of her?”

”When she was about two years of age her mother carried her off, sailing, as was believed, to England, of which country she was a native.”

”Is the name of the child preserved in this tradition?”

”Yes. It was Flora.”

”My own name,” she said.

”And in person you are identical.”

”Yes. My mother's early life embraced some dreadful experiences. Her father and mother, with two brothers and a younger sister, were all murdered by pirates. She alone was spared, and afterwards became the wife of a sea captain, who, I fear, was not a man innocent of blood.

On this point, however, my mother was reserved, almost silent. In the course of time she grew so wretched, as the wife of this man, that she sent a letter to England, addressed to some remembered relative, imploring him to save her from a life that was worse than death. This letter fell into the right hands. A cousin was sent out from England, and she fled with him. No attempt, as far as we know, was ever made to follow and regain her She did not live many years afterwards. I grew up among my relatives, ignorant of her history. My memory of her is distinct, though she died when I was but eight years old.

”I married, at the age of twenty-six, an officer in the British army, one of the younger sons in a t.i.tled family, for whom no way in the world is opened, except through the church or the battle-field. General Montgomery chose the profession of a soldier, not from a love of its exciting and fearful concomitants, but because he had no fancy for the gown and ca.s.sock, and could not be a hypocrite in religion. He went quite early to British India, and distinguished himself there by many acts of bravery, as well as by his humane and honorable conduct. So highly was he regarded by the East India Company, that he was selected for most important services, and a.s.signed to posts of great responsibility. He was past thirty years of age when I met him, on the occasion of one of his visits to England. The attraction was mutual; and when he returned to Calcutta, I went with him as his wife. Then came twenty years of a happy married life;--happy, I mean, so far as a perfect union of souls can make us happy in this world, but miserable, at times, through intense anxiety for the absent one exposed to fearful perils.

”We had three children.” There was a tremor in the voice of Mrs.

Montgomery as she referred to her children. ”One only remains.” She paused, as if to recover herself, and then went on.

”I lost my husband first. Ten years ago, he fell at the post of duty, and, while my heart lay crushed and bleeding under the terrible blow, it leaped with throbbings of pride, as his honored name went sounding from lip to lip, and from land to land. I had not the sad pleasure of being with him in that last time. For the sake of our children, I was residing in England.

”Troubles rarely come alone. Two years afterwards my oldest son died. My home was in the family of General Montgomery, where I was treated with great kindness; but as my income was not sufficient for an establishment of my own, I felt a sense of obligation that is always oppressive to one of my nature. This feeling grew upon me daily, and at last began to haunt me like a constantly re-appearing spectre. It is now about three years since, in looking over some old letters and papers, I came unexpectedly upon a doc.u.ment written by my mother--all the evidence as to this was clear--and addressed to myself. How it should have remained so long un.o.bserved, and yet in my possession, is one of the mysterious things which I do not attempt to explain. There is a Providence in all things, even to the most minute, and I simply refer the fact to Providence, and leave it there. This doc.u.ment spoke briefly, but with no special particularity, of her marriage with a Captain Allen, and settlement in this town. It stated that she had two children, a son and a daughter, and that in leaving America for England, she had taken her daughter, but left the son behind. There was no suggestion as to the use to be made of these facts; but there was such a statement of them as left their verification, I thought, easy. I turned them over and over in my mind, and in the end resolved to gain all accessible information touching the present condition of things. To this end, I sent over about two years ago, a man of prudence and intelligence, versed in legal matters, with instructions to obtain all possible particulars in regard to my brother, his family and estate. He brought back word that my brother was dead; that he had left no children, and that his widow--if, indeed, she were ever his legal wife, which seemed to be doubted--was old, in poor health, and verging towards mental imbecility, if not insanity. That there was a large and valuable estate, to which I, as sister of Captain Allen, was undoubtedly the heir.

”I kept these things, for the time being, to myself, and pondered over them in some perplexity as to the best course to take. But from these thoughts, my mind was soon turned by the illness of my oldest daughter.

After a lingering sickness of many weeks, she died. It seemed almost impossible to arouse myself from the stunning effects of this blow. It crushed me down more than any previous sorrow, for it fell upon a heart weakened by pain. It was many months before the discipline of this affliction awakened me to thoughts of a higher life. Then I began to rise into serener heights--to see as by an interior vision, to believe that even our saddest things may fall upon us in mercy.

”Finally, circ.u.mstances of which I need not speak, made me resolve to leave England, and under legal advice of the highest authority, take quiet possession of this estate, which is mine.”

Mrs. Montgomery ceased speaking.

”Perhaps,” she resumed, after a moment, ”it may be as well, all things considered, that you do not speak of this for the present. I shall, as soon as my daughter's full recovery gives me time to enter into the subject, place my affairs in the hands of a safe legal agent, in order that they may a.s.sume due form and order. You can, no doubt, refer me to the right individual.”

”I can,” was my reply. ”Judge Bigelow, of our town, is the man. I speak of him with the utmost confidence.”

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