The Mysteries of Montreal Part 3

The mayor, wis.h.i.+ng to save his friend any public scandal, went to him, and remonstrated with him on his conduct, explaining that, as his wife had gone to Montreal with his permission, he was legally responsible for all her expenses, and that in refusing to admit her into his house he had rendered himself liable for an expensive lawsuit. On this poor Clarkson got so frightened that he ordered his team to be brought round, and, driving to the hotel, implored his wife to accompany him to his house, begging her forgiveness for his conduct, and promising that he would do anything to make amends.

Mrs. Clarkson now felt that she had obtained a grand advantage, and, a.s.suming an air of injured innocence, enquired who had set him against her. Poor Clarkson was reluctantly compelled to admit that his sister had had something to do with it, on which his wife refused to live under the same roof with such a vile slanderer ('), and insisted that, before she returned, the lady _who had taken away her character_ should leave the house. In fact, she managed the affair so well, and exhibited such an amount of "cheek," that the poor man actually sent his sister away, and drove with a magnificent team of horses to bring home the woman whom he had refused to admit into his house.

For several months they lived happily together, Mrs. Clarkson _going on a visit to Montreal_ whenever it stated her. In process of time she gave evidence of being _enceinte_, and old Clarkson's joy knew no bounds, as he evidently rejoiced at the prospect of having an heir. Had he known, however, that his wife, in visiting Montreal, was invariably met by Randolph Thomson, it is questionable whether his joy would not have been considerably moderated. Before the child was born the old man died, leaving all his property to his wife and his expected heir. His sister, who really was devoted to him, was left without a penny, and entirely dependent on the charity of Mrs. Clarkson. The widow, however, had not forgotten the part played by Mrs. Clarkson during her brother's lifetime, and being now steeped in wickedness, her better nature was almost entirely lost. She turned the faithful sister from her door, and she, the false wife, was with her illegitimate child (born almost immediately after the old man's death) snugly installed in the home that in all equity and justice should have belonged to the woman she ejected.

"_Facilis descensus Averni_."--It is wonderful how easy the descent really is, when once the first false step is taken. As the avalanche, which at first becomes slowly loosened from its lofty position, gradually descends with greater and greater rapidity till it is dashed into the abyss, so does the frail mortal, who at first shudders at the bare thought of an immoral act, rush headlong into sin till her desperate career is suddenly checked, often in a manner fearful to contemplate. Mrs. Clarkson had now all that any woman could reasonably be expected to desire. She had triumphed over her sister-in-law and those of her husband's relatives who had circulated rumors detrimental to her character, and had become the possessor of a comfortable home, without the incubus of an impotent husband. But she was not content; Randolph Thomson, turning his back on her and his boy, had married a young lady of fortune; so vowing vengeance against men in general for their _falseness and inconstancy_. Mrs. Clarkson laid herself out to entrap and ensnare every man who came in her way, and in this manner to revenge herself (as she by some strange mental process led herself to imagine) on her false lover.

The deceased Mr. Clarkson had a brother named William, a bachelor, whose farm was adjacent to that now possessed by the widow. William was nearly twenty years younger than his brother, and was considered rather a good-looking man by his acquaintances. It is possible that, but for her _liaison_ with Thomson, Mrs. Clarkson would, long ere this, have fascinated him with her beauty and blandishments; but, he had hitherto escaped unscathed, though openly admiring his brother's wife, and taking her part against the scandal-mongers when speculation was rife as to the cause which detained her in Montreal. In looking round for some one to entrap and ensnare, Mrs. Clarkson's eye naturally fell upon William, as the most eligible party in her immediate vicinity; and she was the more anxious to secure him, because, with a woman's far-seeing eye and long-reaching vengeance, she wished to circ.u.mvent her sister-in-law, who, being unmarried (and likely to remain so), had undertaken to keep house for her younger brother, and would, as matters at that moment stood, have likely outlived him and inherited his property. Opportunity was not long wanting for her to effect her object; William was the sole executor to his brother's estate, and, as business often brought them together at the late Mr. Clarkson's lawyer's office in Montreal, it was not strange that the widow should almost immediately have opened the campaign, which she did on the first occasion of their meeting in the city, beginning, as most great generals do, with a little skirmis.h.i.+ng, in order to draw out her opponent. It was a beautiful spring morning, and, as they had appointed to meet in Montreal at eleven o'clock, Mr.

Clarkson called to drive his sister-in-law to the depot to meet the train. To his surprise, that lady declined to accompany him, reminding him that she was now alone in the world, and that if during her husband's life-time the tongue of scandal was directed against her reputation, how much the more would it be so now that her natural protector was no more. William, being little of a gossip himself, urged her to be above such petty pandering to public opinion, and to follow her inclinations, but she replied naively.--"A woman has nothing to depend on but her reputation, and she cannot be too careful, you know."

"Perhaps you are right," William replied, laughing, and so he permitted the widow to order her own buggy round, and follow him a few minutes later to the depot. But even this precaution did not satisfy the wily Mrs. Clarkson. She knew that many Sherbrooke people would be on the trains both going and coming, and that inquisitive eyes would watch, and gossiping tongues would relate all that pa.s.sed during the journey, so she induced Miss Cuthbert, a neighbor of hers, to accompany her, promising her a pleasant day in Montreal.

The train had not arrived when the ladies alighted at the depot, but the ever-acute widow instructed her servant man not to drive away, but to wait and see if any parcels had been sent from Portland. She did not expect any parcels from Portland, but she wished all the neighbors who might be going on the train to see her man with the buggy, in case they might imagine she had come in the carriage with William. When they got on board the train, of course, her brother-in-law took a seat with her and Miss Cuthbert, but the widow pretended to be engrossed in a novel, leaving the younger lady to carry on the conversation. A boy approached with "prize packages" of candies, and William, buying two, handed them to the ladies, requesting them to see what fortune had in store for them. Miss Cuthbert opened hers eagerly, and, amidst the almonds and lozenges, discovered a gilt brooch, which she laughingly fastened on her breast. William offered to open the widow's for her, but she interrupted him, saying:

"My fortune has been told already, give it to Miss Cuthbert."

"Oh, yes! give it to me," said the sprightly girl, and hastily opening it, she poked amongst the candies and pulled out a small article rolled in tissue paper; unrolling the paper eagerly she disclosed _a plain gilt ring_.

"Put that on, also," said Mrs. Clarkson.

"Oh, no!" answered Miss Cuthbert, "I will try to get some one to put it on for me."

With this careless banter the time pa.s.sed away till they reached Montreal, Mrs. Clarkson playing the shy widow to perfection, and, as may naturally be supposed, not only raising herself in the estimation of her brother-in-law, but drawing him in a strange manner within the radius of her fascinating influences.

On arriving in the city they entered a carriage, and were driven to St.

James street, where Mr. St. Jerome, the lawyer, had his office. In about an hour their business was transacted, and William invited the ladies to Alexander's to partake of luncheon, but this the widow discreetly declined, being aware that the pastry-cook's in question was a celebrated rendezvous for all country-folk. Pleading as an excuse that she wanted, to do some shopping, she advised William not to trouble about them, as they would prefer shopping alone, and that, if fatigued, they could easily drop in for an ice at some respectable confectioner's.

"Besides," added Mrs. Clarkson, "I have promised to take Miss Cuthbert up the mountain this afternoon, as she has never been to the summit of Mount Royal, though living so near the city bearing its name."

"If you are going up the mountain, I pray you will allow me to accompany you. I never visit Montreal without ascending it at least once," said Mr. Clarkson. "If you do not wish me to go shopping, I will not intrude, but I will feel myself slighted if you compel me to ascend the mountain alone."

The widow feigned to give a reluctant consent, and accordingly they arranged to meet on Place d'Armes at two o'clock, and to drive to the base of the mountain together. At that time the beautiful mountain from which Montreal derives its name, and most of its beauty, had not been acquired by the city. It was private property, and there were no elegant roads by which to drive to its summit; indeed, it was only by the courtesy of the proprietors that persons were allowed to ascend the famous hill, and enjoy the beautiful scenery and bracing air: even then the task of ascending was no easy one, and ladies were generally glad of the company of one or more of the hardier s.e.x, if only to a.s.sist them in clambering up the steep ascent.

Mr. Clarkson went to lunch, and then to the Corn Exchange to transact some business, arriving in Place d'Armes precisely at two o'clock.

Shortly afterward she saw the ladies emerge from the French Church of Notre Dame, and cross the square to meet him. Miss Cuthbert was delighted with the church. Although a Protestant, she admired it as an architectural art-work, the elaborate adornment, too, of the interior pleased her, and accorded with her womanly tastes. Mrs. Clarkson had seen both inside and outside so often that neither had now any more effect on her; indeed, not only was her heart steeled to the refining influences of the building, but also to the doctrines inculcated within it; she had started on the downward path, and never once dared to look up again, even for a moment.

"Well, you are sharp on time," said Miss Cuthbert, addressing Mr.

Clarkson.

"Yes, indeed, I have been walking the streets for nearly an hour, wondering if the hands on the Seminary clock would ever indicate the hour of two. I had almost persuaded myself that the public clocks had all stopped, but my watch, which was ticking, told me that they were going on with methodical regularity." He addressed himself to Miss Cuthbert, but his eyes were turned slightly towards Mrs. Clarkson, who, blus.h.i.+ng slightly (she could blush at pleasure), turned away her head, and appeared to be quite confused.

William hailed a cab, and they drove up University street, as far as the carriage road permitted them. Dismissing the "carter," they entered the adjacent field, and ascended by a winding path which at that time ran through the property of Mr. (now Sir Hugh) Allan. Miss Cuthbert, although she lived faraway from all mountains or hills of any kind, was remarkably active, and bounded up the steep ascent like a deer. Mrs.

Clarkson was a _dear_ of another kind, and she was obliged to cling to her brother-in-law for support, which latter he was by no means adverse to giving, after about twenty minutes climbing they arrived at the "view point" immediately over Sir Hugh Allan's residence, when everything was immediately forgotten in the inspeakable emotion excited by the magnificent panorama before them. At their feet lay the beautiful city, the rows of shade trees, clothed with verdure, lending a gorgeous setting to the elegant limestone buildings. In front rolled the mighty St. Lawrence, nearly two miles wide, the vast expanse being relieved by St. Helen's Island, with its luxuriant foliage. On the right the Victoria Bridge, that monument of engineering skill, stretched across the mighty river towards the picturesque village of St. Lambert; while further to the westward might be seen Nun's Island with its shady groves, at the head of which rushed the boiling waters of the famous rapids of Lachine. I have in my youth travelled through both Germany and Switzerland and, later, through the beautiful scenery of New Hamps.h.i.+re and Vermont, but nowhere do I remember having seen a view so grand, or a panorama so picturesque, as that to be seen from the brow of Mount Royal.

For a while the entire party gazed in speechless admiration at the scene before them, when Miss Cuthbert exclaimed:

"I can say, with the apostle of old, 'It is good for us to be here.'"

"And build _three tabernacles_? queried Mrs. Clarkson.

"Oh, no, two would do. One for me, and another for you and Mr.

Clarkson."

At this rejoinder Mrs. Clarkson bit her lips, and changed the conversation immediately.

When they had surveyed the city, the river, and the country on the opposite sh.o.r.e, they prepared to ascend to the highest part of the mountain, where the observatory stands, imbedded in trees. Here they sat down for a time to rest, and partake of some light refreshment which they had brought with them; they then proceeded to descend on the other side, pa.s.sing through the Protestant and Catholic cemeteries, both elaborately laid out, and looking like beautiful flower gardens, rather than burial grounds. As they neared Cote des Neiges Miss Cuthbert commenced to scamper along like a child, and at one short declivity, she started off at a run, calling on the others to follow. Clarkson took his companion's hand and invited her to descend in like manner, but, almost at the first step, his sister-in-law uttered a sharp scream and fell forward on the gra.s.s, informing them that her foot had turned under her, and that she had sprained her ankle.

William was almost beside himself. He felt that he had foolishly induced her to forget herself so far as to indulge in a wild romp and thus injure her ankle. He wished Miss Cuthbert at the bottom of the sea, and wondered how they were to get the beautiful cripple home, as they were removed from residences or conveyances of any kind, and Mrs. Clarkson was no small weight. There being nothing else for it, however, the st.u.r.dy farmer lifted her in his arms and carried her to the house of the caretaker of the cemetery; then, leaving her gently on a sofa, he started for the inn at Cote des Neiges, thinking he might obtain the means of conveyance to Montreal.

On his arrival at the inn he was informed that there was no livery stable of any kind for miles around, and that the private buggy of the proprietor was at the moment in Montreal, whither the landlady had driven for provisions. Just then a team was driven at a rapid speed from the direction of St. Laurent; it contained two young gentlemen from Montreal, who had driven round the mountain attended by a groom.

On hearing the particulars of the accident they at once, with great gallantry, gave up their vehicle, a mail phaeton, for the use of the disabled lady, cheerfully undertaking to walk the remainder of the way (about four miles), and enjoining Mr. Clarkson to bring the carriage to their stable so soon as he had deposited his fair companions in a place of safety.

On reaching the cemetery, William found the widow looking wretched, indeed, and apparently suffering great pain. Her face brightened, however, as she saw the carriage and was convinced that they would be able to get to Montreal in time for the night train for Sherbrooke.

William a.s.sisted Miss Cuthbert into the trap, and placed Mrs. Clarkson carefully beside her; then, mounting the box, he thanked the caretaker for his kind offices and drove, via Cote des Neiges hill, to Montreal.

He suggested to Mrs. Clarkson that it would be better for her to take a room at the St. Lawrence Hall for a few days, and enjoy perfect rest till her ankle got better, but she, remembering her past experiences, preferred to travel at once to her home, and so avoid all scandal.

William drove straight to the Grand Trunk terminus in St. Bonaventure street; and, placing the ladies in a Pullman car, drove up to Sherbrooke street with the team, which he left, as directed, at the young gentleman's residence. He proceeded along to St. Lawrence Main street, where he hailed a cab, and drove back to the terminus. Shortly after his return to the depot the train started, and in a few hours they reached Sherbrooke.

It was considerably past midnight when they got to Mrs. Clarkson's residence, so Miss Cuthbert remained with her till morning, doing all she could to alleviate her pain. Shortly after breakfast William called; and as his sister-in-law was confined to her room, he considerately kept her company till Miss Cuthbert had gone home and obtained permission to remain a while longer with the disabled lady. There is nothing that tries a man's heart so much as to see a woman (particularly a beautiful woman) in pain. The widow was aware of this, and so, although the sprain was purely accidental, and was not included in her programme, turned it to such good account that the poor bachelor was fairly hooked, and began to think seriously that he had got into an awkward fix.

Marriage with a deceased brother's wife was illegal, and no clergyman could perform the marriage ceremony without violating the laws of both Church and State; even if one could be prevailed on to follow the dictates of his conscience, and to stretch a point in their favor (as was sometimes done) society would not recognize their union, and would shun them as open adulterers. In vain did his sister-in-law urge on him that the law was absurd, and that, as there was no blood-relations.h.i.+p between them, there could be nothing criminal in their living together; he had not the moral courage to face the cold criticism of a narrow-minded and bigoted community, and, though mad with pa.s.sionate love, he hesitated to take the fatal plunge.

Mrs. Clarkson, however, having carried the outposts and princ.i.p.al barriers successfully, was not to be thwarted by a mere matter of sentiment. She expressed her intention of departing forthwith for Detroit, a.s.suring him that she would no longer remain in a country where such intolerant bigotry existed, and instructed him, if he loved her as he pretended, to sell his property in Canada and follow her thither.

Clarkson was loth to leave his relations and the home of his childhood, but the temptress lured him gradually on, refusing at times even to see a man who valued his narrow-minded friends' opinion rather than her love, and at length he consented to sell his farm for whatever it would bring, and to rejoin her in Detroit. This was another piece of generals.h.i.+p on the part of the widow, as, did they remain in Canada, she could not, in the event of her husband's death hold the property which would revert to her hated sister-in-law; but that being now converted into cash she was at liberty to squander it during her husband's life-time, retaining the fortune left by her first husband for the future use of herself and children.

For a time Mr. Clarkson lived with his sister-in-law in a princely style in Detroit. They entertained largely and handsomely, and most of their guests neither cared nor enquired who they were, or whence they came.

They had not been there more than six weeks when Mrs. Clarkson made the acquaintance of Count Von Alba, who for some time had been the lion of fas.h.i.+onable circles in Detroit. Von Alba was a Russian, who (for political reasons said his friends, for criminal reasons said his enemies) had emigrated to America and lived on his fortune (his friends insisted)--his wits, said his enemies again.

Whichever surmise was correct, Von Alba was undoubtedly good-looking.

He stood five feet eleven inches in his stockings, and was powerfully built; his complexion, like most Russians was dark, and his lofty forehead was surmounted with curls of the darkest brown. At the time of the Clarksons residence, the Count was about five-and-thirty years old; he had naturally a genial manner and a good-humored expression of countenance, and a scar on his forehead (obtained, he said, when a lad, at Inkerman) made him an object of feminine admiration, while he was at the same time greatly envied by the opposite s.e.x.

Von Alba was a sort of Admirable Crichton. He rode like Nimrod, danced like Terpsich.o.r.e, drove like Jehu, shot like William Tell, and sang like Sims Reeves. It was in the _latter_ accomplishment, however, that he chiefly excelled; he would stand up at the end of a crowded drawing-room, and, playing a delicate accompaniment on his guitar, would vocalize one of the pa.s.sionate love-songs of his native land. Sometimes he sang in English, then his defective p.r.o.nunciation lent a strange charm to his singing, which, although it could scarcely be accounted for, made itself felt even in the bosoms of the dilettanti.

Strange to say, although courted and run after by nearly all the eligible young ladies, the Count became so fond of Mrs. Clarkson's society that scarcely a day pa.s.sed but he was found at her house. At the fair lady's "Thursday Evenings," of course, he was one of the princ.i.p.al attractions, added to which he dined and lunched frequently at her house, and escorted her to b.a.l.l.s and parties: her husband not caring for the everlasting round of excitement, and, far from feeling jealous of the Count, he was proud to think that his choice of a companion should be endorsed by one who presumably was a competent judge.

It was not long till the lady was at her old tricks again, and what Randolph Thompson had been to her before, Von Alba soon became, the simple husband encouraging these visits, and allowing his wife to squander his money lavishly on her paramour. Mrs. Grundy in the meanwhile began to be suspicious, and rumors, at first vague and indefinite, became almost pointed accusations against Mrs. Clarkson. The poor husband, although not altogether crediting the fact that there was a foundation for these reports, saw the necessity, in the equivocal position in which both he and his wife stood, of putting a stop to all suspicious intercourse with the Count; and, being resolute enough when so disposed, he forbade his wife to meet Von Alba any more in private, or to invite him to her house.

This, as may be supposed, brought matters to a crisis and brought on a terrible quarrel between the abandoned woman and her husband. She saw that the game was up as far as Detroit was concerned, and so, managing to forge her husband's name to a cheque for several thousand dollars, she went the next day with great boldness to the bank where he kept his money and presented it; it was cashed by the clerk without hesitation, and that evening, abandoning both Clarkson and her children, she went, accompanied by her paramour, to the depot and took the train for Montreal, where they went to an hotel, registering their names as Mr.

and Mrs. Mortimer, of New York. Notwithstanding their false names and altered attire they were traced to the St. Lawrence Hall, Mrs. Clarkson being surprised, on coming from breakfast one morning, to observe her husband busily scanning the register at the office counter. The Count had not seen him, but Mrs. Clarkson hurried him upstairs and told him that their whereabouts was discovered, and that they must take refuge in flight before Clarkson had time to take steps for their apprehension.

Ringing the bell, Von Alba bade the boy to have their bill made out and receipted, and to have their luggage sent to the station in time for the next train for New York.

"There is no New York train till 3.15," said the boy.

"When is there one for Toronto?" asked the Count.

"Not till eight this evening, but the Lachine train, which meets the mail boat, leaves at 11.30."

"That is what I mean," said Von Alba; "we will go by that;" then, packing hastily, the two culprits descended by the ladies staircase, and, entering a carriage, drove off to procure tickets for Toronto.