Part 39 (1/2)
”Boston is a great city, my child, and what if you could not find Mrs.
g.a.y.l.o.r.d?”
”Her husband mentioned in his letter the name of a Mr. Bancroft, merchant I believe, and through him I thought to learn all I desired. At any rate I must try to find this girl! It is not because I am told that her eyes are like mine, as there is nothing remarkable in this; many have large dark optics,” and she laughed, ”but because something continually goads me with the conviction that she is my child.”
”And have you not told Pearl?”
”No, I could not bear to trouble him as my poor heart is agitated; and it would be an additional grief to have him treat the matter with incredulity. He too must wait for the unfolding.”
”But your mother? How will she ever account for the young lady's disappearance? How can either of you forgive what she has done if it is proven that Lily g.a.y.l.o.r.d is your child?”
Lillian started to her feet, while Mrs. Cheevers looked wildly towards the door. A low, wailing cry as if a heart was being crushed had reached them from the outside, and their cheeks blanched as they listened. For a moment the two listened to their heart's throbbings as the stillness of death settled down about them; then a sound as of one falling broke the silence. Lillian rushed to the door in time to clasp the inanimate form of her mother before the poor head struck the floor upon which she was kneeling. It was true! _She had been listening!_ The upper part of the door did not close tightly, and it was to this opening that her ear had been placed until the brain reeled and she sank upon her knees.
”O my mother!” almost shrieked the distracted daughter as she attempted to raise her.
Mr. Cheevers heard the cry and came rus.h.i.+ng up the stairs, and the wretched woman was soon carried to her bed, where, in a short time, the family physician was in attendance. For many weeks the proud, erring Mrs. Belmont lay tossing upon her bed in wild delirium, and Lillian stood by and listened to her ravings.
”I did not do it! Look--there is no blood on my hands! It was _she_! It was she! Let me look again; yes--the same purple spots; Lillian!
Lillian! Why won't you come to me? I did not do it! It was the sea--the wicked, cruel sea! O my curse! It has fallen back upon my poor head! It is burning up my brain! O G.o.d! But he won't hear! The fires--_the fires!_”
In vain did the untiring watcher breathe into her ears the words of sympathy and forgiveness, but the whirling brain caught them not. The tenderest of hands bathed the burning brow and administered to her every necessity. It was a long, a fearful struggle between life and death; but when the spring days were all past, and the warm summer sun shone down upon the fresh young gra.s.s in the public squares, Mrs. Belmont lay with folded hands and worn-out frame in quiet helplessness upon the bed, where for so many weeks she had tossed in frantic delirium. The poor clogged brain had been relieved of its heavy load and the burdened conscience quieted, and now the reaction had come and Lillian again prayed and waited!
”If she would but speak to me or show some signs of recognition,”
Lillian had said one day to her aunt, as they stood looking at the pale, wan face upon the pillow. ”It is so hard to see her lying there day after day so still and pa.s.sive, taking all that is given her without a word or gesture! Terrible fears at times take possession of me--what if she never recovers her reason! The doctor has hinted such a possibility if I am not mistaken, and I dare not ask him if my suspicions are correct.” The quivering lids were slowly raised for one moment from over the large eyes, where a most pitiful pleading look was hidden, and the longing glance fastened itself on the troubled face beside her.
”Mother, dear Mother, do you know me? Speak just one word to your poor Lillian”; and she kissed tenderly the firmly set lips. Again the lids slowly fell and the dark orbs were shut in with their unfathomed mysteries.
”This is dreadful!” and with tears streaming down her face the aunt turned and walked from the room.
CHAPTER x.x.xVI.
UNFOLDINGS AND REVELATIONS.
Weeks pa.s.sed away and Mrs. Belmont was able to sit for hours in her easy chair, but the once active, energetic and ma.s.sive intellect was weak and inefficient as that of a child. The large eyes would follow the flitting forms about her with a weird wistful look, yet she seldom spoke, and when she did, the words revealed the sad truth that the powers that had long sat enthroned in the realm of reason ruled no more.
”I must go,” Lillian said to her aunt one day, as they drew the invalid chair close to the window where a cool breeze from the Schuylkill could fan her pale face, and, as the words fell on the ears of Mrs. Belmont a quick flush overspread it. The daughter noticed the change with joy and a strange wondering. ”Mrs. Jackson can do all that is needed to be done now,” she continued, without removing her gaze from the placid features.
”I will not be absent more than a week at most, and Pearl, you know, writes that if he can obtain leave for a few days will be here by my return.”
”Pearl?”
”Yes, Mother; would you like to see him?”
There was a struggling among the buried memories which were not dead but sleeping, for the eyes gleamed with a new light, and the face resumed its look of intelligence. It was only for a moment, however, and then the former inertness returned, as she repeated, ”Pearl!”
”He loves you, Mother; shall I read what he wrote last?” There was no response, and taking the letter from her pocket, she read slowly and distinctly. ”She is our mother, Lillian, and, no matter what she has done, it is the duty of her children to forgive, and never refer to the past. I am anxious to meet her for her daughter's sake. My heart opens wide to take in her love and bury the whole hateful past. Whisper my name to her gently, familiarize her brain with a.s.sociations concerning me.”
”He is coming to see you, Mother, to love you; are you glad?”