CHAPTER XI.
A STARTLING DISCOVERY.
IN one of his novels Balzac makes the pertinent remark that "It isimpossible for man to understand the heart of woman, seeing that herCreator himself does not understand it." These are not the precisewords, but the sentiment is the same. And who, indeed, can understand awoman's heart; who can aver that he has a complete comprehension of hercharacter? Very young men lay claim to such knowledge, but as they growolder, and the vanity of youth gives way to the modesty begotten byexperience, they no longer pretend to such omniscience, and humbly admittheir inability to solve the riddle of femininity. Had the Sphinxproposed such an enigma to oedipus he would not have been able to guessit, and so, meeting the fate of other victims, would have deprivedThebes of a king and Sophicles of a tragedy.
Yet, if we bear in mind that women work rather from impulse than frommotive, we may arrive at some knowledge of the organ in question. If awoman is impulsive, and most women are, she acts directly on thoseimpulses; and so startles men by paradoxical actions. As a rule, themale intellect has logical reasons wherefrom it deduces motives uponwhich to act. Not so with women. They obey the impulse of the moment,reckless of the consequence to themselves or to anyone else.Consequently, it is impossible to foretell how a woman will act in agiven circumstance, but it may be asserted that she will obey the latestthought in her mind. Even from this point of view, the feminine mind isstill a riddle; but one which is more capable of explanation.
For example, Mrs. Bezel read "A Whim of Fate," and thus, afterfive-and-twenty years, the Horriston tragedy was freshly impressed onher brain. Seized with remorse, terrified by the memory of the crime,she, acting on the impulse, wrote to Hilliston stating that she intendedto see Claude Larcher and reveal all. The dismay of the lawyer at thismad proposal, and his steady opposition thereto, turned what wasoriginally a mere whim into a fixed idea. She saw a way of punishing theman for the withdrawal of his love ten years before, when she lost herbeauty and became paralyzed. Delighted at learning that she had stillsome power to wound him, she persisted in her project, and so wrote theletter to Larcher, which he received the day after his arrival inLondon.
To baffle Hilliston, and prevent him from intercepting the letter, shewas obliged to use all her wits, and so hit on the idea of learning thename of the young man's club. How she managed to obtain it is best knownto herself; but Hilliston, never dreaming of this pertinacity, wasunable to thwart her schemes, and, beyond writing to Claude, telling himto call, could do nothing. Had he guessed that she would address herinvitation to the club, he might have called and obtained it in thecharacter of Larcher's guardian; but, knowing her helpless condition,the thought that it might be there never entered his mind. So the letterarrived, was duly answered, and Claude was coming to-day at threeo'clock to hear what Mrs. Bezel had to say.
The visit, though due to her own action, was a source of considerableanxiety; for she was not at all certain of what she would say. It wasimpossible to tell all without inculpating Hilliston, and this, forreasons of her own, Mrs. Bezel was unwilling to do. All her talk of theprevious night had been so much rodomontade to frighten the man shehated, but she was too well aware of her dependent position to think ofdoing him an injury. Her impulse had led her into deep water, as sheknew instinctively.
She was a woman who had lived every moment of her life, but now,stretched on a bed of sickness, she missed her former triumphs andexcitements. This visit promised a great deal of amusement, and the useof much diplomacy, therefore she was unwilling to abandon her plans. Atthe same time she determined to give the young man as little informationas she possibly could. It would not be through her agency that the maskwould be torn from Hilliston's face. She was resolved on that point.
Yet the matter, starting originally from an impulse, had now gone toofar for her to draw back. Claude had seen the papers, and therefrom musthave guessed that she desired to impart certain information with regardto the crime which had cost him a father. Mrs. Bezel thereforecompromised the matter, and settled in her own mind to tell him half thetruth, or, at all events, only sufficient to interest him without aidinghim. Had she been a man, and had taken this decision, all would havegone well, but being a woman she reckoned without her impulse, and itbetrayed her.
Moreover, she had a revelation to make which would effectively tieLarcher's hands should he learn too much; but this she did not intend tomake unless driven into a corner. She was in that corner before theinterview was finished, though she little expected to get there.Hilliston, clever as he was, could not understand her present actions;she did not understand them herself, else she would not have ventured toreceive Claude Larcher.
He duly arrived at three o'clock, and Mrs. Bezel glanced approvingly athis stalwart figure and handsome face. Claude had one of thosesympathetic, yet manly, natures, to which women are instinctively drawnby the law of sex, and Mrs. Bezel proved no exception to this rule. Shewas too thoroughly a woman not to relish masculine society, and, despiteher perplexity, was glad she had sent the invitation, if only for thesake of talking to this splendid looking young man. There was anotherreason, which she revealed in a moment of impulse. But that was lateron.
Meanwhile Claude, seated by her couch in the window, was wondering whoshe was, and why she had sought this interview. He was certainly awarethat she had some information to impart concerning the fate of hisparents, but as he had not seen her name in the papers containing theaccount of the case, he was at a loss to fix her identity. His doubtswere soon set at rest. Mrs. Bezel was a more prominent actor in theHorriston tragedy than he had any idea of.
"You were doubtless astonished to get my letter," said Mrs. Bezel, whenthe first greetings were over, "especially as you do not remember yourparents, and my name is also unknown to you."
"Were you a friend of my parents, madam?" asked Claude, too anxious forinformation to reply directly to her remark.
"Yes. I--I knew them. That is, I lived at Horriston," stammered Mrs.Bezel, passing a handkerchief across her dry lips.
"You lived at Horriston? At the time of the murder?"
Mrs. Bezel nodded; she was not yet sufficiently self-controlled forspeech.
"In that case," continued Claude eagerly, "you must know all the detailsof the crime."
"Only those that were reported in the papers."
"Still you must be acquainted with those concerned in the tragedy. Withmy father, with Jeringham, Denis Bantry, with Mona, his sister."
"Yes," said Mrs. Bezel calmly; "I knew them all."
"Have you any idea who committed the crime?"
"Not the slightest."
"But you must have some suspicions?"
"Oh, yes! But they may be wrong. I believe that Mr. Jeringham hadsomething to do with it."
"Oh!" said Claude, remembering Hilliston's opinion, "some believe him tobe guilty."
"I cannot say for certain," replied Mrs. Bezel, shaking her head. "Theflight of Mr. Jeringham certainly showed that he had something toconceal."
"What kind of a man was Mr. Jeringham?"
"Tall and fair. Amiable as a rule, but liable to violent passions."
"Was he not in love with my mother before she married my father?"
Mrs. Bezel turned away her head, and the color rose to her face. Thenervous movement of her hands plucking at her dress showed howprofoundly she was moved by this question.
"I believe so. But she--Mrs. Larcher loved her husband."
"Then why was my father jealous of Jeringham?" said Claude, who couldnot reconcile this statement with the evidence given at the trial.
"How should I know?" cried Mrs. Bezel, turning on him with suddenpassion. "If George Larcher had not been so blinded by jealousy he wouldhave seen that there was nothing between them. Your mother knewJeringham all his life; they were like brother and sister. It is true hewished to marry her, but when he saw that her heart was given to yourfather, he bowed to her decision. He came to Hor
riston as her friend,not as her lover."
"But he was constantly with her."
"Do you dare to speak thus of your mother, sir?"
"I--I cannot help doing so," stammered Claude, startled by the anger inher voice. "God knows I wish to revere the memory of my mother, but Icannot help seeing that she was morally responsible for the tragedy."
"She was not! She was not!" said Mrs. Bezel vehemently. "How dare youspeak thus? Your father neglected her. He left her to the companionshipof Mark Jeringham, while he indulged in his predilection for literarywork. All day long he shut himself up in his study, and let his wife sitalone, and miserable. Was it any wonder, then, that she should turn toher old friend for consolation? There was nothing between them--nothingto which any Pharisee could have taken exception."
"But surely my father was sufficiently sensible to see all this?"
"He saw nothing, or what he did see was distorted by his jealousy. Thepolice, in their endeavors to fix the crime on your mother, took thesame view of the relations between her and Jeringham. Oh, I know whatyou read in those papers shown to you by Mr. Hilliston!"
So surprised was Claude by this unexpected introduction of hisguardian's name that he could not suppress a start.
"How do you know that Mr. Hilliston showed me the papers?"
Mrs. Bezel saw that she had said too much, but, unable to go back on herwords, rapidly resolved to make that revelation which she had hithertointended to keep as a last resource.
"Mr. Hilliston told me that he had done so."
"Do you know him?"
"Yes," said Mrs. Bezel, seizing her opportunity to lead up to therevelation. "I know him as the best and kindest of men. I know him asone who has been a good friend to you--orphan as you thought yourself."
"Orphan as I thought myself," muttered Claude, turning pale. "Is it nottrue--am I not an orphan?"
"No!"
"Great Heavens! What is this you tell me? My father----"
"Your father is dead. He was murdered, as you know."
"Then my mother?"
Mrs. Bezel looked at the agonized face of the young man, and covered herown, with a quick indrawn breath.
"She lives!"
"My mother! She lives! Are you mad? She died in London shortly after heracquittal."
"So it was supposed, but it was not true. Could you expect that unhappywoman to face the scorn and contempt of the world after having beenaccused of her husband's murder? She did not die, save to the world. Shefled from society and sought refuge here--here where she lies a helplessinvalid."
"Mrs. Bezel!"
"I am not Mrs. Bezel. I am your mother."
"God! My mother!"