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"But are you sure 'twas really them?" said his mother, when he had finished telling them.
"Mother, do you for a moment attempt to doubt my word?" exclaimed Fred.
"My dear son, I do not; but I thought you might be mistaken in them, especially at night. However, the next time that Clara comes here, I will question her plainly about it. I shall then hear her version of the story, and will be enabled to judge more correctly. If I find out that she has been keeping company with Charlie I shall forbid her to enter my house again."
"Do as you please, mother; but I have resolved never to speak to her again," said Fred, and walked off to his room, leaving his mother and sisters to talk over the matter.
On the third evening afterwards Clara made her appearance at Mr.
Charlston's. After the usual preliminaries of courtesy were disposed of, Mrs. C. requested Clara to walk into the library room as she desired to speak a few minutes to her, alone. Fred had snugly enclosed himself in his bed-chamber. The others of the family were in the parlor.
Having seated themselves Mrs. Charlston addressed Clara, and related all the particulars she knew relative to the unfortunate circ.u.mstances alluded to.
"My dear Mrs. Charlston," exclaimed Clara, excitedly, "since I have patiently listened to your narration, will you now, as a favor I ask, have patience until I render an explanation?"
"By all means I shall," replied Mrs. C.
"But before that I do so," said Clara, "I desire that Fred should be present."
"That is impossible to-night," replied Mrs. C. "I shall, however, find an opportunity of bringing the matter before Fred, in the manner in which you represent it."
"On that unfortunate night, as I may term it," said Clara, "I left home accompanied with Emma Harrison, an acquaintance of my own, and came here, as usual, to see my child. When we had come as far as Mrs.
Josleyn's, she said to me, 'I have to call here, so you had better go on to Charlston's, and you can call for me on your return.' I agreed therewith,--and on my way home stepped in for Emma; but Mrs. Josleyn informed me that she had gone out with her own daughters to spend the evening with an acquaintance; and, perhaps, added she, they may not return for an hour or two. Unwilling to wait so long I took my departure; but had not gone far when Charlie Holstrom stepped forth, and requested the privilege of seeing me home. The night being dark, and somewhat unpleasant for a woman to be out alone I embraced the opportunity, and with him went directly home. After having chatted a short time with us all he left the house and I have not seen him since.
I knew not that the jealous eyes of Fred were staring upon us that night. He was able to follow me, why was he not also able to accompany me home?
"For years my fond heart has invariably responded to his own; and I have done nothing to either insult his honor or tarnish the fidelity of my affection for him. He has falsely accused me. He has treated me disrespectfully; and now manifests a determination to dissolve our union. Since the moment that I yielded up the chast.i.ty of my affection to his desires he has treated me too frequently with indifference. He promised to rectify, or, rather, ameliorate the error we committed, by an immediate union for life. His promises at intervals were again and again repeated; and when I suggested the adequate necessity of having them fulfilled he treated me with contempt. Where, I ask, is the happy home he promised me at Tiverton. Where, also, are the half dozen of homes he has since reared for me in London. He also promised me a home in Canada; an unjustifiable plea, as I may term it, to smoothe down his intention of deserting me and my dear child, leaving us to be subjected to the biting scorn of the uncharitable world, and without even the nominal existence of a home that we could call our own. Again, the evil spirit of his soul has been aroused from its lair; and without a reasonable cause he pierces the very nerves of my affections with the stings of a jealous heart. A soul so sensitive as mine feels deeply the wounds he has afflicted. _Oh! unfortunate woman that I am! Wherefore am I consigned to the torments of impending fate._ Have I committed crimes so incurable that there is no remedy for them! My heart is ready to burst! I shall die under the horror of my calamity! Oh! merciful heavens, have pity upon me!--_poor wretched creature that I am_.
"Oh! Mrs. Charlston what shall I do? What shall I do?" she hysterically exclaimed, the tears gus.h.i.+ng out from her eyes.
"My dear Clara," e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Mrs. Charlston, grasping her affectionately by the hand, tears dimming her eyes also, "I shall have pity upon you; and although your friends should become enemies to you, I shall adhere to you, my dear child, like an affectionate mother and a faithful friend."
"Thank you, thank you," exclaimed Clara, "but my heart is unable to express its grat.i.tude."
"Try to compose your feelings, my dear, with the a.s.surance I have given you of my fidelity."
"Yes, my dearest of friends, I shall endeavor to do so," said Clara.
Then grasping each other more firmly and affectionately by the hand they sat together until they had sobbed out the sorrowful uprisings of their hearts.
CHAPTER V.
On the following morning, Mrs. Charlston found an opportunity of speaking privately to Fred about the unfortunate affair. She told him all that Clara had said, at the same time endeavoring to make as favorable impression in her behalf as the circ.u.mstances of the case would allow; and also earnestly beseeching him to come into good terms at once with Clara.
"_Never! never!_" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Fred.
"Why should you talk so determinately, Fred, I'm sure that Clara has given sufficient reasons to justify the circ.u.mstances of an unpremeditated act, apparently so innocent, as to be undeserving of censure."
"Were it only the first innocent act, as you consider it, I would not have attached any importance to it," said he.
"Have you really been made aware of a previous intercourse between Charles and Clara?"
"Why, yes, I have heard of it a dozen times--I was informed by letter when at Tiverton that Clara was flirting with Charlie, or as the writer expressed it: 'In your absence your old friend, Charlie Holstrom, is playing at "_catch the beau_" with your affectionate Clara.'"
"Now Fred, you must tell me who was the writer of that letter."
"It was Harry Walton."
"I just thought so. I'm sure, Fred, you are aware that Harry is noted for manufacturing falsehoods. If you believe him you are the only person in London who does so."
"But I have heard it from others, and they cannot all be liars. There is Mrs. Tennyson, for instance, an old respected friend of your own. One day she hinted sufficient to make me feel suspicious. Fernando Jones squirted a few dry jokes in that way. Sylvester Kennelworth termed me a hen-pecked bachelor. Even Julia Marks, Sylvina Oldham, and Sarah Silverstone bothered me almost to death one evening recently about Clara's intention of presenting me shortly with a 'ticket of leave.'"
"Wherefore, dear Fred, would you for even one moment direct your attention to the malicious falsehoods of such idle gossips as those you have referred to. They are a thousand times worse than the starving thieves that lurk around the dark lanes of the city, who steal only what is practically useful to themselves; while those others go about robbing the youthful and virtuous of their reputation, scattering the seeds of dissension, and fluttering in the suns.h.i.+ne of their folly like b.u.t.terflies tasting of the sweets of every flower, but collecting no honey, therefore, my son, discard the venom of such villainous tongues."
"My confidence in Clara was so deep rooted that even all that I heard had scarcely any effect; but when I beheld personally that night their manner and appearance, and considered the coincident circ.u.mstances connected therewith, all that I had previously heard came rus.h.i.+ng in upon my soul like an overwhelming flood and swallowed up every ounce of love that was in my heart."
"But I wish you to have an interview with Clara the next time she comes; it will restore the affection you have lost."
"It never will; nor do I desire to see her. I feel certain that she has been duping me with the flattery of a false affection, and then laughing at my simplicity in my absence. Even Charlie's actions towards me of late have also led me to feel suspicious of him. But my eyes are now awakened to the fact, therefore, I will never again speak to Clara, nor have anything whatever to do with her."
"Oh! Fred, you are too hasty in your a.s.sertions. Remember, my dear son, the circ.u.mstances and a.s.sociations by which you are morally bound to each other. Remember the vows which you have consecrated upon the altar of your heart. Remember the condition to which you have brought her by your folly. Bear in mind that if you forsake her under the present circ.u.mstances that an indelible stain will remain for ever upon your character; but above all, my dear son, remember the link which binds you inevitably together,--a link of living humanity, akin to you both.
Remember then that you are a father, and that she is a mother,--t.i.tles that were conferred upon you both by the birth of that little angel who now sheds a radiance over our household by his endearing presence. Then think of him, think of what I say, and you will outlive your imaginary ills and all the jealous flickerings of your heart; therefore, I again ask you, Fred, to comply with my request."
"I tell you again, mother, that I cannot. You need not think you can bait me with honied words. The insidious bee that fluttered around the flowers of my once happy affections has left its sting-wound within my heart."
"But love is its own physician. It alone can cure the ills it makes."
"But where there is no mutual love in the heart the wound is incurable."
"Why, Fred! do you for a moment doubt the veracity of Clara's love for you?"
"She has fooled me," he exclaimed. "She has forsaken me. She has made me reckless and desperate. I have ceased to love. I hate society. I even despise my very self. I shall seek for happiness in foreign lands as a subst.i.tute for what I have lost. I have decided upon going to Canada."
"Are you again really determined to leave us, Fred?"
"Yes, mother, I am more than determined. I am ready to leave to-morrow if I choose to go."
"If you go, my son, you will go against the wishes of your parents and every relative you have; and if you go in such a manner and under the present circ.u.mstances you cannot carry along with you '_a mother's blessing_'."
"I don't care!" replied Fred haughtily. "Mother, you have no love for me. You have vindicated the guilty actions of Clara in opposition to my opinions. You have tantalised my soul by so doing. I shall no longer bear the insults, you heap upon me,"--and therewith Fred arose and made his exit abruptly from the room.
It appears that for several weeks past Fred had been ruminating upon going to Canada, reviving as it were his former intentions.
His sore throat had originated from sudden exposure to the raw air of night on coming out from a crowded hall where he had been listening to a highly-colored lecture upon Canada and the Clerkenwell-Emigration-Scheme. The recent occurrence had made him still more determined, and also, afforded, as he considered, a sufficient plea to justify his purpose. That same evening, immediately after tea, his father being made aware of the design, took him aside and began to expostulate with him.
"Father, I have determined upon leaving and therefore your influence can have no effect," exclaimed Fred.