CHAPTER IX. — A Tale of Two Cities
Among the many friends we made during our stay in Montreal, none were so thoroughly beloved by myself and family as the Sinclairs. Mr. Sinclair was an English artist who had settled in Canada some time previous to our arrival, and, being generally well informed, as well as a shining light in his own profession, he was made much of by the English residents here, and had as pupils many of the wives and daughters of the officers of the garrison, besides some of the more cultivated Canadians. Mrs. Sinclair was a refined English lady of good family, and had several children, mostly girls, who were greatly admired not only for their beauty, but also for their many and various accomplishments. The Sinclair girls were frequently at our house, being, in fact, looked upon as members of our family, and no social gathering of ours was considered complete without them.
In time Mr. Sinclair became tired of Montreal. Many of his patrons left with their regiments for England, and he became weary of the dull routine and scanty income which he saw was all he could ever look forward to in Canada, so, breaking up his household, he departed for the United States, and, having lived for a time in various cities, finally settled in Boston, where he became quite successful, and soon obtained an enviable reputation as a portrait painter.
Lulu Sinclair, the eldest of the girls, was a sprightly blonde of about sixteen when her father left Montreal, and the family had not been long in Boston before she became engaged as a teacher at one of the conservatories, and a mutual attachment sprang up between the pair. Miss Sinclair had already made her début in Boston Music Hall as a vocalist, and the pair were frequently engaged at the same concerts and entertainments, so that the natural sequence was that they in time became engaged, and afterwards—married!
“Nothing very mysterious in that,” I think I hear my fair reader say, a little disappointed that I have not prepared a spicy bit of scandal for her delectation; but as Balaam the Prophet could only speak as he was impelled by the spirit, so likewise must I confine myself to the realities of the case, and I therefore make no apology for this commonplace bit of history, but proceed with my story.
One evening Lulu made her appearance at our house, in Montreal, accompanied by Mr. Hill, her husband. It seems that they were on a concert tour, and were to give two concerts in Saint Patrick’s Hall, which at that time stood on the corner of Craig street and Victoria square, and, as we had often invited them to do so, they promised to avail themselves of our hospitality during their stay, as their engagement terminated with these concerts and they were anxious to take a little rest before returning to Boston.
The children were delighted to have Mr. and Mrs. Hill in the house with them; they had never met a real live prima donna in private life before, and they flaunted “Professor Hill” and “Mademoiselle Lulu Sinclair” in the faces of their juvenile acquaintances, as if they had been entertaining the Emperor of all the Russias and Her Imperial Majesty the Empress.
Since the Sinclairs had left Montreal, the principal playmates of our children had been the Bennetts, who lived in the adjoining street. Mr. Bennett was a French-Canadian, with (as usual) a large family, and was in comfortable circumstances, having a large retail grocery on Notre Dame street. One evening, shortly after the arrival of Mr. Hill and his wife, the former drew me aside and asked me if I knew a family in Montreal named Bennett. I told him that I knew them intimately, that they lived close at hand, and taking him to the window (it was late in the spring) I showed him the children walking opposite hand in hand with our own. He then intimated that he had something to tell me, and, taking me aside into the adjoining room, he told me something which astonished me as much as it will doubtless astonish the reader of these pages.
It seems that Mr. Bennett’s father was an American, who, in early life, being settled in Montreal, became enamoured of a Canadian girl named Beauchamp. Miss Beauchamp was young, pretty, and a Catholic. The first two of these qualifications rather suited Mr. Bennett, and the third did not in any way annoy him, he being (although a Protestant) a liberal-minded man, and having the idea that thoughts and opinions could not be forced, like sheep, to go in a particular track, but that every one should be free to hold what convictions his reason dictated, untrammelled by conventionality or creed of any kind. Miss Beauchamp professed to be of a like mind, and agreed to allow him to educate the boys (if any), while she would look after the female issue of their marriage. With this ridiculous understanding they got married, and for a time things went pleasantly along, Mrs. Bennett attending L’Eglise St. Jacques regularly, not only without opposition from her husband but sometimes even accompanied by him. He did not believe in the efficacy of the service to save his soul, but he had sufficient common sense to know that it could not harm him, or turn him one whit aside from what his reason dictated; and neither did it, for at the end of two years he was as greatly opposed to what he considered the errors of the Church of Rome as ever he was, and though he attended L’Eglise St. Jacques almost as regularly as St. George’s Church, of which he was a member, he went there simply because he liked the society of his wife, and she believed it to be necessary for her salvation.
In the course of time Mrs. Bennett gave birth to a boy, then two girls, and afterwards another boy, all of whom, as children will, made enquiries concerning whence they were and whither they were going, etc. Mr. Bennett now began to see the folly he had been guilty of in making the agreement mentioned above. If the Catholic religion were the true and only faith, all his sons were on the high road to perdition; if, as he was inclined to think, the Protestant religion were nearer the mark, then what was to become of the girls? What a pleasant prospect was there before him! His family torn and divided by the most bitter of all dissentions, religious disputes (or rather irreligious disputes about matters of doctrine), and his life and those of all his family rendered miserable. This was certainly bad enough in its way, but something more annoying was in store for him. He one day discovered that not only were the girls baptized in the Romish faith, but that the boys also were surreptitiously baptized by the parish priest, so that he alone of all the family remained a Protestant, and a poor one at that. Every day things got more and more complicated, and his wife at last openly avowed that all the children were to be Roman Catholics, and advised him also to flee from the wrath to come and take refuge in the arms of the true church.
Bennett was not exactly a bigot, but, if not a Protestant, he was certainly not going to become a Roman Catholic. Cursing himself bitterly for his folly, he sought to make matters better; but that, so far as changing the religion or creed of his family went, was altogether beyond his power. He had his choice between living an alien and a heretic, despised by his own family; and joining a church whose teachings he considered puerile and inefficacious, and the atmosphere of which was now exceedingly disagreeable to him. His wife showed herself so much more devoted to the church than to her husband, that his love for her soon faded away, and he made a fearful resolve to leave Montreal, and never see his wife or children more. Accordingly one evening, instead of returning as usual from his store, he left for parts unknown, leaving his wife and children almost penniless behind.
Mrs. Bennett, though acting as she did, loved her husband dearly. It was this very love for him which made her so anxious for him to leave what she considered the false religion of the Church of England for the pure and unadulterated system of the Church of Rome. She cried after him as if her heart would break, and sent after him in all directions. All her efforts, however, were in vain, no trace of her husband being found. The children were left at school till they were in time old enough to be apprenticed to a trade or business, Mrs. Bennett struggling bravely, as only a woman can do, to keep their heads above water. When William, the eldest boy, was about fourteen, he was placed in the well-known house of Messrs. Mockridge & Co., dry goods merchants, and in course of time became thoroughly conversant with the business. He had not only been able to help his mother to maintain the family, but had put by sufficient to start a small business for himself. Before deciding on the latter, however, he determined to visit Boston, to get a few ideas connected with the business, and, while there, came across his father, who had married again under the name of Hill, his wife being a young American of good family, and the mother of the gentleman from whom I learnt this story.
William Bennett reproached his father with his misconduct, and insisted on his leaving his American wife. Bennett the elder was very much averse to doing so, but his son would leave him no alternative, threatening him with exposure and criminal action should he decline. The old man tried to temporize, and persuaded William to visit and dine with his family, introducing him as a business friend from Montreal.
Whatever Anti-Spiritualists may say to the contrary, there are undoubtedly influences other than material which affect us at times, and give us mysterious intimations of events happening or about to happen. Both Mrs. Hill and her children had a presentiment of some impending calamity, and, although they had not the faintest suspicion of the real state of affairs, they did not look on William Bennett as they would have done on any other person casually introduced into their household. A damper seemed to have been placed on all their spirits, and the flow of conversation was sluggish and dull.
After dinner they endeavored to organize an impromptu card-party, but that, also, was a failure; and, although, as a rule, they had a little music after dinner, on this particular evening each one seemed indisposed to break the monotony.
About ten o’clock William left for his hotel, having first made an appointment with his father for the following morning. When they met William returned to the subject of their previous discourse, and insisted on his father returning with him to Montreal. The old man vowed that, come what might, he would never go back to his “priest-ridden family” as he chose to designate his wife and children. The battle waxed fast and furious, till at last William exclaimed with an oath: “By —— you shall leave your Yankee mistress, then; she shall suffer what my mother suffered;” and with oaths and threatenings he hounded his father out of Boston, determined that Mrs. Hill should not (innocent though she was) enjoy the happy home which was denied to his mother.
When Mrs. Hill learned the truth (which she did from a letter sent her from Montreal) she nearly lost her reason. Her case was even worse than that of Bennett’s first wife; because, whereas the latter could at least seek her husband, and live in the hope of one day finding him again, the former could not, even did she discover him, claim him as her own.
Mr. Hill’s visit to Montreal, then, though ostensibly made for professional pursuits was, in reality to find out something concerning his father’s whereabouts, and other matters connected with his quasi-relations. It was strange that he should have come to me for information without being at all aware of our intimacy with the Bennett family, indeed, while he was relating his story Amelia Bennett, his brother’s eldest child, came running in for something or another, and I at once saw a resemblance between the two, not only in personal appearance, but also in manners and actions.
The next day Mr. Hill, leaving his wife to the care of our family (who had undertaken to show her “the lions”) went forth on his expedition in search of his father. He had obtained from me his brother’s business address, and going to the office unannounced was immediately recognized by him, although they had only met once before, and that a considerable time previously. On explaining the object of his visit, Hall was very coldly received and informed that Bennett the elder had left Montreal for New York some years previously and had not since been heard of. Mr. Hill pretended to believe the story, but secretly determined to keep a watch on his half-brother as he felt certain that the latter was still in communication with his father. He accordingly made arrangements to stay at my house, and as the Bennetts were constantly coming and going he was sure that in a short time he would learn more concerning him of whom he was in search.
One afternoon we were seated round the parlor fire, discussing the usual after-dinner topics, when Mrs. William Bennett dropped in to have a friendly chat. She disclosed the fact that her husband was going to visit a superannuated employee in the nunnery, which he usually did on the first of each month, and that she did not see what reason her husband had to support forever all his broken-down employees. At the first word, Hill listened breathlessly, and when Mrs. Bennett said that she had just left her husband dressing, he quickly, but quietly, left the room. In an instant he was opposite Bennett’s house, and as soon as he noticed the bedroom light extinguished (for it was already dark), he drew back into a shadowed corner till he saw Bennett emerge from the doorway and walk rapidly down the street. Hill followed at a safe distance, but soon he saw his brother hail a passing sleigh, and, entering it, order the driver to take him somewhere; the name of the street, however, he failed to hear, and he felt chagrined to see the neighboring cab-stand completely deserted. “Now or never,” he thought, “am I to attain the object of my visit,” and he dashed madly along the street after the vehicle which was travelling at the rate of ten miles an hour; several times he passed a cab-stand and would fain have taken a fresh horse in pursuit, but he was afraid that while doing so he might lose sight of the sleigh he had followed so far; or confound it with another vehicle, for they were now passing through the centre of the city towards the west end of St. Antoine street.
Past terrace after terrace they flew, till Mr. Hill was nearly faint and breathless, when a sudden turn to the right brought them to the foot of a hill, now Guy street, up which the carter walked his horse, and gave the half dead pedestrian time to recover his breath. When they had proceeded about a quarter of a mile up the hill, the carter drew up at the Nunnery on the left side of the road, and Mr. Bennett, alighting, rang the bell. A sliding panel was immediately pushed aside, and a hooded sister held a few moments conversation with the visitor, on which the door was opened, and he was admitted. Hill, who had been standing in the shadow of the porch, entered unnoticed at his brother’s heels, the janitor being under the impression that they had come in the sleigh together. Walking along a dark corridor they came to a stairway, down which their guide preceded them into the basement; here Hill took a favorable opportunity to turn aside, still keeping his eye on the others till they arrived at the end of the passage and entered a large room where several old men were congregated, some chatting in groups, others smoking or reading lazily. In one of these, with emotions which cannot be described, Hill recognized his father from whom he had so long been separated. His first impulse was to rush boldly in and make himself known, but, the first transport over, his American caution prevailed, and he slipped down another passage which commanded a view of the staircase, and watched from his point of vantage the many persons returning from visiting their friends. He felt relieved when he saw Bennett take his departure, and with one bound he rushed into the middle of the room where the old man was, and, throwing himself round his father’s neck, wept like a child. The old man did not recognize him at first, but when he did he went into hysterics, so great was the shock to his nervous system. Never was there such a commotion in the quiet Nunnery, and the inmates gathered round in excited groups to listen to Hill’s story. He told them that his father had left Boston some years before, and, becoming unable to support himself, had been placed by a heartless elder brother in the cold confines of the Nunnery, although the younger members of the family were both willing and anxious to support their aged parent. There being no reason why the old man should not leave the institution if so inclined, the Superior allowed him, after some hesitation, to take his departure, first receiving the grateful thanks both of himself and of his son for her kind and fostering care. Hill left a letter for his brother, informing him that, his father being willing, he had taken him away from the Nunnery, and that as they evidently did not want to keep him with their families, he was about to take him to live with his.
Bennett was furious when he received the letter, but, as Mrs. Hill was now no more, and no threats or exposures of any kind could induce young Hill and his father to separate, he allowed them to go their way in peace.
A few years after these occurrences Mr. Hill received an appointment in Montreal.
Bennett and he sometimes meet in the street, but give no signs of recognition. The old man is still living, seldom going beyond the portals of his son’s house and passing most of his time in moody meditation on the past. Let us hope that a heartfelt repentance may in some measure atone for his past weaknesses.