CHAPTER XII. — A Deserted Wife, or Model Woman

One hot summer’s day I received a visit from a young and beautiful woman attired in fashionable costume. She told me she was desirous of obtaining accommodation for a couple of months as her husband was in England and the time of her accouchement was at hand. She was the bearer of a letter which ran as follows—

LONDON, England, August 6 18—
To whoever is with my
precious wife in her hour of trial:
MY DEAR MADAM—I cannot refrain, as the husband of
the most lovable wife on earth from expressing my ardent
wish and prayer that all may be well and that you will
remind her that I am most tenderly loving and thinking
of her and shall pray hourly for her, but whatever be the
issue, let all be done for her happiness and comfort.
I will part with all I have rather than that she or her
infant shall want anything. Oh how I wish I were near
to love and comfort her. If her dear infant is spared all
well and boy or girl I shall be quite as pleased if my idol
be well. Let all give way if need be for my precious
wife’s sake, and on no account let her life be endangered,
even for the sake of the child, if such crisis should occur,
which Heaven forbid.
I can say no more, but I wish I could enclose my hand
and heart if I could comfort your patient. Of course I
shall be terribly anxious to know that all is well; will you
kindly have a postal card ready just to say “all is well” if
so it be; never mind more till my poor wife can put her
own name to a letter.
God reward you for an act that I know the angels envy
you, for your charge is a “friend of Jesus,” and my only
friend on earth.
Yours in intensity of anxious interest,
P. MERRICK.

My address is
Sunny Hill Avenue,
London, E.

Mrs. Merrick explained to me that her husband was a member of a wealthy English firm doing business in Montreal, and that he was at that time obliged to be in London on business, but would soon return, when she purposed setting up an establishment of her own. Her father and mother (both Scottish Canadians) had been dead many years, and she had been educated in a boarding school in Ottawa where she had first met Mr. Merrick.

Within a few days the lady became an inmate of my house, and in course of time became the mother of a beautiful little boy, news of which was at once despatched to London. For three weeks Mrs. Merrick waited patiently for a reply, and after that time, receiving none, she became uneasy, and wrote a long letter to her husband, beseeching him to send her an answer immediately, but neither to this letter did she obtain any response and days became weeks and the weeks began to spread themselves into months and yet not a line or even a word could be obtained to indicate the whereabouts of Mr. Merrick or whether he was alive or dead. At last the terrible truth began to dawn on the poor creature that she had been basely deserted by him who was sworn to be her friend and protector and she became almost demented, she tried to account for his silence in many ways but her intellectual acumen as too great and her reasoning always brought her to the one sad conclusion. However, as nothing better could be done the spirited creature made up her mind to earn her own living and that of her child, and setting her wits to work she soon obtained a situation as governess at the house of Mr. Mullaly, a retired merchant of considerable means whose wife and daughters were desirous of obtaining an entree into polite society. Placing her boy out to nurse, she set out for her new home, and soon began to feel the blessedness of working for her own living.

But her happiness was not unmixed with pain. The Mullaly girls somehow or another heard that Miss Caldwell (she had given her maiden name) was the mother of a little child, and, although she admitted the fact and recounted to them her whole history, they gave no credence to her assertions, but began to treat her with the greatest contempt making her life miserable. The poor woman would fain have left her situation, but she recollected that it would be difficult to obtain another without referring to Mrs. Mullaly who would be sure to tell the whole story with several embellishments. On the whole she thought she had better remain where she was for a time, hoping that, as years went by, and the girls acquired more judgment and common sense, they would treat her with greater fairness. Accordingly she bore all the taunts of the young ladies with great meekness and patience, and made herself so agreeable and useful that, although they never could make up their minds to believe her story or to treat her as one of the family—the Mullalys came to regard Miss Caldwell as indispensable to their existence, and when Miss Mullaly the elder got married she took Miss Caldwell with her in the capacity of housekeeper the young sisters no longer requiring her in her capacity as governess, which situation she, however, did not long keep as the remuneration would not enable her to educate her boy as she desired. He was a fair-haired, bright little fellow, and the most loving little creature on earth. She consulted with me what best could be done to earn a larger salary. I advised her to become a professional nurse though hard she would think it at first, when once accustomed to its little drudgeries she would find it a noble calling, with God’s blessing attached to it. She consented, and I trained her in my hospital, she became in a very short time one of my most proficient nurses. From that time she had gained the battle, for, as soon as some of our medical men got acquainted with her, they gave her employment at the most serious of their cases, till at last it became very hard for me to procure her for some of my own patients, and through her abilities, patience, and refined feelings she gained a great many sincere friends. One of her patients, an old lady, left at her death $200 to her kind nurse, and this enabled poor Mrs. Merrick to give her boy that education which she had so long craved for him.

In the meanwhile Willie Merrick was placed at school at Lennoxville, where he evinced great talent. At twelve years of age he was noted as the finest classical scholar in the school, and his mother was induced to place him in training, with a view to his matriculating at the University of Bishop’s College. The fond mother lived only for her son, so she placed him under the care of a private tutor, at whose hands he made such progress that at the early age of fifteen he entered the University. Here he showed himself at once to be made of no ordinary metal, and he became quite a favorite with the Principal and professors, all of whom were ever ready to lend him a helping hand. His mother had intended him for the church but Willie did not (so he said) feel “good enough” for that high and holy calling, so he entered the Faculty of Law, determined, if possible, to distinguish himself in that profession so soon as he obtained the necessary qualifications for commencing practice. In process of time he obtained his degree, graduating with high honors, and he was not long in establishing a practice equal to that of many older advocates.

Although without any hope of ever taking her place again as Merrick’s wife, the poor woman whom he had so basely deserted instituted a thorough search for him in England, and was enabled to discover all his history, and also so gain an insight into his proceedings whilst away from her. It seems that he had married her under an assumed name, his real patronymic being Stephens, and that his people were purse-proud and overbearing. On his arrival in England his father, who had heard of the young man’s escapades in Canada peremptorily ordered him to have no more correspondence with his Canadian wife, but to marry a noble lady whom he had purchased (through money lent; to her father) for the ennobling of the Stephens family.

When the deserted woman became assured of the truth of these disclosures she made up her mind to give no more thought to the wretch who had left her in such a predicament, and determined to centre her hopes and her affections in her son, who had by this time become a distinguished lawyer, and was quite as proud of his mother as his mother was of him. He took a house for himself and only parent in the Western suburbs, and they lived in quiet comfort together, the young man going little into society, except on public occasions, on all of which he was invariably asked to take a prominent part in the proceedings.

When William Merrick had been in practice about two or three years he was entrusted with an important case connected with the endowment of some church in Lower Canada, which was appealed from one court to another, until, finally, it was decided to carry it to the House of Lords. Accordingly the young advocate made preparations for a trip to England, and, being unwilling to leave his mother alone for such a lengthened period, he decided to take her along with him. They sailed from Quebec one fine Saturday in June, arriving at Liverpool late on the following Saturday night, a strong westerly wind blowing them rapidly across the Atlantic! They stayed but a few days in Liverpool, and then went on to London, putting up temporarily at the Langham, at that time the most fashionable hotel in London. The morning after their arrival the young lawyer, having occasion to go to the Courts on business, Mrs. Merrick was left for a time to her own devices, she occupied a half-hour or so in reading the newspapers, and then made up her mind to go for a stroll before luncheon. Attiring herself rather gaily (she was still remarkably good-looking, only a little over 40 years then) she set out with a sprightly step down the main staircase, humming to herself a lively air which she used to sing in happier days. Just as she was descending the last flight of stairs, a gentleman having a delicate-looking lady on his arm began to ascend, and on hearing the melody, faint though it was, which the approaching lady, was unconsciously humming, glanced suddenly and swiftly upwards; then, as if a thunderbolt had struck him, he came to a sudden halt, having a dazed expression on his features and littering a half suppressed oath or imprecation. Mrs. Merrick had not noticed the approaching couple, her thoughts being far away, but the suddenness of the gentleman’s movement arrested her attention, and she looked him fully in the face for a moment; then, uttering a wild shriek, she fell backward and would have been probably severely injured, had not a gentleman, who happened to be close behind her, caught her as she fell, and carried her to the landing-place, where restoratives were applied, and the unfortunate woman speedily came to her senses.

It is scarcely necessary to say that the lady and gentleman whose advent so upset Mrs. Merrick were none other than Mr. and Mrs. Stephens who had come up to London for the operatic season and were staying at the Langham Hotel. Taking advantage of the confusion, Stephens hurried his wife along to her room, giving no further answer to her many and wondering enquiries than: “Oh, it’s only the heat; don’t mix yourself up with all these people,” and, without allowing time for remonstrance or further enquiry, he put a stop to all questioning by hurrying the delicate creature along till he deposited her, breath less, in an easy chair. Going out into the corridor he tried to discover how matters stood, but the woman he dreaded to meet had been borne to her room and medical attendance had been summoned. This Mr. Stephens learned from a waiter; so, determined to deport himself as if he knew nothing of the cause of the lady’s illness, and was as much puzzled at the occurrence as the rest of those who had either witnessed it or come on the scene soon afterwards, he returned to his wife, and, throwing himself into a chair, pretended to read. But his wife, obtuse though she possibly was with regard to the fainting lady, something had struck her about the manner her husband assumed. She could not get over it, and when at the table d’hote with her husband listened attentively to the conservation of two gentlemen who were sitting vis-à-vis. One enquired after the health of the lady who had taken so suddenly ill on the landing in the morning. The younger of the two gentlemen expressed his gratitude to the other for assisting his mother so kindly, who would have, but for his assistance, fallen down stairs, but was somewhat better now. He said the Doctor had not been able to ascertain the cause of her sudden illness, and, as his mother had always been blessed with such good health, he himself could not account for it. In the meantime Mr. and Mrs. Stephens had been listeners to the conversation when all of a sudden a curious, gurgling noise was heard, a chair was overturned, and Mr. Stephens was stretched on the floor in a dying condition, blood streaming from his mouth. There was a great commotion in the dining-room, and it was thought at first he had swallowed a bone and was choking; but the physicians who arrived, three in number, pronounced it a rupture of a blood-vessel and applied at once the necessary remedies, but gave little hope of his recovery. As soon as his condition permitted a removal, he was carried, by the advice of the doctor, to a private hospital near by, where his delicate wife also preferred to go, and nothing more was heard of the dying stranger, for a while anyhow.

Our young lawyer, Willie Merrick, had been successful in his law affairs, and had arranged a trip to the continent with his mother, when a cablegram was sent to them from Canada, saying: “Don’t leave England; wait for letters; good news.” This was rather annoying to Mr. Merrick, as he had only a few weeks more at his disposal; and he anticipated this trip as so necessary to restore his mother’s cheerfulness. Mrs. Merrick was also puzzled as to what could possibly detain them any longer in London. At last the Canadian post arrived, and with it large documents and letters which had been sent from England to Canada and were now returned, informing Mrs. Merrick that a certain W. Merrick Stephens had died, leaving a large fortune, and that half of this estate was bequeathed to Mrs. Merrick in Canada, whose maiden name had been Emma Caldwell, or, in case of her death, to her heirs. Young Mr. Merrick being at this time a well-known young lawyer in Montreal it was not hard to find him. Both he and his mother could not imagine who had left them such a fortune. Well did Mrs. Merrick think of the man whom she had loved so dearly and truly and who had pretended to be so fond of her. But, she knew too well that she had been deceived, that he had married her under a false name, and had she not recognised him at the hotel with a lady who was his wife!—She had never told her son the cause of her sudden illness when first at the hotel; and her son had never mentioned the affair of the dying stranger at the dinner-table, thinking his mother still too weak to be disturbed by such shocking calamities. His partner from Montreal wrote; “You had better stay and see about this large fortune at once. Every one is not such a lucky fellow as you.” A Mr. Tidal was mentioned as executor of the estate of W. M. Stephens, and our hero prepared at once to call on that gentleman, who received him very friendly, but requested him to call the next day with his mother at the family residence of the deceased, which visit had been particularly desired by the deceased gentleman’s widow. Our young gentleman of coarse promised to comply with the wish, and was very much surprised when, on returning to his mother, he found her hesitating,—but for a moment only, a second thought, as she promised to accompany him, feeling in her heart that, whatever Mrs. Stephens might wish to see her for, she would certainly not blame her for anything, as all the wrong that had been committed had been committed towards her, but still her heart was heavy when at two o’clock they started in one of those stage coaches of which London has so many. After about two hours’ drive they alighted in front of an old-fashioned family mansion, surrounded by well cultivated grounds. The gentleman, Mr. Vidal, on whom young Mr. Merrick had called the day previous, came to the portal to greet them, and begged Mrs. Merrick to have the kindness to see Mrs. Stephens in her own apartments, as she was in delicate health and very much crushed down through the sudden loss of her husband. A maid who had appeared at the time was ordered to direct Mrs. Merrick to the boudoir of her mistress and, announcing the visitor, withdrew. Mrs. Stephens, attired in deep mourning, looked very pale. On seeing Mrs. Merrick enter, she rose from her chair and holding both hands out to greet the astonished lady, said: “Oh, you wronged, wronged woman,” but then tears smothered her words, and it was quite a while before she could speak again. “How can I atone for the wrongs committed on you, but I promised him. His last request was that I would see you and beg your forgiveness for him. He had recognised you at once at the hotel, and he felt his Conscience troubling him very much. But the sight of your son—his son—was too much for him. He felt he could not live to meet the son he had so wronged and the woman he had so loved and so betrayed. He told me all when the blood was streaming and smothered his words. He had married me by the command of his father for my money, but had afterwards learned to love me when he saw I was so devoted to him, but he had not the courage to tell me of you and his child. I often noticed him looking sad, and when I asked him to tell me what was troubling him he would say: ‘Don’t be so kind to me, I don’t deserve it, I am very, very wicked.’”

“We have no children, our first-born, a boy, only lived one hour; the second, a girl, only three days. Since then my health has never been good, but he was so kind, so indulgent with all my weaknesses, that I can hardly realize he was ever unkind to any one. But his father was a stern old man of iron will who made him leave you and marry me for my father’s money. All this I could not tell to your son nor to anybody else than to you. Will you tell me you forgive him? I know your heart is pure and good or you would have troubled him while alive. Don’t sit so mute, you frighten me; shall I call your son—the servants?”

“No, no, don’t call anybody,” was her response, “but speak of him, of him you loved, the only one I have ever loved save my child.” At the thought of her son she broke out into sobs, and the blessed tears brought balm to her heart. Silence prevailed for a long time, save the sobs of both. At length a knock was heard, and a servant inquired if the ladies wished to take refreshments with the gentlemen. Both would have declined but for appearance sake, and, after bathing their faces, descended to the room where the gentlemen had transacted their business.

On entering Mrs. Stephens approached Willie saying: “I hope you have consented to take, in addition to the name which you bear already, the name of Stephens, which was the last desire of my dear husband and also my sincere wish.”

“If my mother consents to assume that name also I shall, but otherwise I must decline, as I shall never bear any other name than my mother whom I love and honor, and who can, if she prefer, refuse this bequest and need never tell me why. I know she will do all for the best if it combine with honor.”

“She will not refuse,” was Mr. Vidal’s reply; “and now, ladies, I have to beg you to sign those deeds that we are able to congratulate the new lord of the estate.”—(All signed).

The end of this story is very short now. Mr. W. Merrick Stephens and mother never returned to Montreal, but are living with Mrs. Stephens (the widow) on the same estate and never has there existed a more perfect harmony and friendship—both trying to make each other happy and those around them. The last I heard from them was the following letter:

LONDON, December 18.
MY DEAR OLD FRIEND,
Don’t be angry that I call you old. I know you are not
much older than myself, but it seems you are nearer to me
when I address you so. How my life has changed! You
used to tell me the evening will be better than the morning
How true! She is so good (his wife), both Willie
and I cannot help loving and admiring her. She thinks
Willie looks like him and has many of his ways. If her
health is good next spring we shall all three visit Canada,
I think the sea-voyage will do her good. I shall be so
proud to introduce her to you, and so glad to see you
again who helped and advised me always for the best.
You can write the history of my life it you like. Why
did you ask my permission? You well knew I would
do more for you if you let me I know you will not say
anything to harm us, and I shall forever consider myself
in your debt, but you must send us one of your books
when out. Willie joins with me in sending his best regards
to your husband and children and believe me for ever
your grateful friend.
EMMA MERRICK STEPHENS