CHAPTER XIII. — A Tale of Bigamy.
Lillie Malcolm was the daughter of Scotch parents who had emigrated to Montreal about the year 1835. Her father was a schoolmaster, having a private school in the neighborhood of St. Antoine street, and at the time of their arrival in this city Lillie was about the age of ten. The little girl was precocious and talented, and very pretty, and was also, as regards both these characteristics, admired and made much of. As the girl grew older she became a little vain and conceited, her principal aim being to gain the plaudits of the visitors at her father’s house for her singing or other performances, which were many and various, the versatility of the girl being remarkable. By the time she was seventeen, Lillie Malcolm became known as the prettiest and most accomplished young lady in the neighborhood, and no church or Sunday-school gathering was complete without a song or recitation by her.
But Lillie aspired somewhat higher than Sunday-school concerts and such circumspect circles. She longed for an entree into the inner and higher circles of Montreal society where she felt that she could rise above the common level, and take a position in keeping with her education and accomplishments. Unfortunately for the ambitious girl her father, though highly respectable, was very poor, and so altogether debarred from participating with his family in the round of social pleasures in which the bon ton of Montreal indulge; added to this, he was a strict Presbyterian, and was averse to consenting even when his daughter did receive an invitation to some of the houses of her limited number of acquaintances.
The poor girl fretted and repined at her lot. She could manage the household affairs if required, but her mother or sister invariably attended to that, and so her talents were not brought into requisition; she could speak fluently and, as a clergyman or lawyer, would certainly have distinguished herself, but women were not required or even tolerated as clergymen or lawyers; she would (so she imagined) have made an excellent wife for a fairly rich young man, but the young men did not seem to want wives without money or social rank, and so poor Lillie fretted and fumed, occasionally attending the many brilliant weddings which were celebrated in the fashionable churches, and wondering how it was that so many plain and unattractive girls got husbands, while she was without even a proposal. It is true she had no lack of admirers; these flocked round her like bees in a flower-garden, but few of them were eligible as suitors; and the few who were, although they admired her openly, and paid her great attention, never approached the subject of marriage.
Things went on in this way till Miss Malcolm was twenty-three, when she made the acquaintance of Captain FitzMarshall, an officer of Her Majesty’s army, who was stationed in Montreal. FitzMarshall was very highly connected, being the grandson of an English Duke, and was greatly sought after by the belles of Montreal; but he, having met Lillie Malcolm by chance at the house of a mutual acquaintance, vowed that she was the only beauty in Montreal, and was even, marked in his addresses to her. Lillie’s heart fluttered with delight at the thought of actually out-doing the acknowledged society belles, and she would have been in ecstasy if she could only have appeared on the arm of her admirer at one of the public assemblies to which he had offered to bring her, but her father would not permit her to enter a circle unfitted for his means and her station, particularly as neither he nor her mother would be present to look after her.
Before the close of FitzMarshall’s second year in Canada he had made Lillie Malcolm’s heart glad by offering his heart and hand; he also communicated the matter to Mr. Malcolm, but the latter gentleman shook his head dubiously, and asked him if he had consulted his friends in England. When he replied that he had not, the old gentleman gently but firmly informed him that, although he esteemed him highly, yet he would not have his friends say that he had been entrapped into a marriage with one who was socially his inferior, and that, till he had written to his relatives and obtained their consent to his marriage, it would be better for him to discontinue his visits to the house. FitzMarshall pleaded strongly, but the old man was firm, and so the poor love-sick Captain had to content himself with the assurance that, if his friends consented to his marriage (for although a Captain he was only twenty-four), he would be only too happy to confide his daughter to his keeping. Accordingly the young officer took his departure from the house, with the understanding that when the return mail arrived from England he was to call at once, and, if agreeable to his family at home, to be formally betrothed to the fair Elizabeth.
The weeks rolled by as if they were years, and at the expiration of that time FitzMarshall received letters from home, ordering him to obtain leave of absence and to take the next steamer for England. With a heavy heart he disclosed the contents to Mr. Malcolm, who of course expected something of the kind, and told him that he must now discontinue all communication with his daughter. The order came, unfortunately, too late, as the young couple had already met frequently clandestinely and forestalled their expected honey-moon.
However, to England FitzMarshall must go or be disinherited, so, bidding his inamorata to cheer up, that he would soon be back to claim her as his lawful wife, he set sail, and left the poor girl, soon to become a mother alone with her austere father and unsympathetic mother. Weeks went by without a word from him for whom the girl would have laid down her life, and her letters, written we may say with her tears, were returned to her unopened. The truth flashed quickly on the young girl—she was deserted! The aristocratic friends of the young man would never allow him to see her more, and he was weak enough to be put in pupilage. Quickly making up her mind how to act, with indomitable courage she gathered up what little trinkets and jewellery she possessed, she converted them into money which yielded her nearly two hundred dollars (for she had received valuable presents from her lover and some money), and, one evening slipping out quietly, she took the train for Toronto, proceeding from thence to Detroit, where she established herself as the widow of an English officer, prepared to receive pupils in languages and music.
But she was prepared for more than this. Her heart had become thoroughly steeled by the harsh treatment which she considered she had received from her father and others, so she laid herself out to make what capital she could, not only out of her accomplishments but also of her beauty, and with such success that she obtained an elegant establishment at the hands of a wealthy Michigan shipping merchant, the public being led to believe that she had become possessed of an estate in trust for her child (a boy) who was just then born. For several years she lived in this way, always moving along quietly and respectably, when the old gentleman died, leaving her but a few hundred dollars capital, for he had neglected to provide for this contingency, and she, with less forethought than one would imagine, had never considered such a possibility. Mrs. McClintock, as she now called herself, began to think of returning to her old business as a teacher, but there was little necessity, for an old gentleman who had made a fortune as a distiller, an acquaintance of the deceased merchant, soon made excuse for calling upon her, and made undoubted advances to her. It may be that he knew something of his friend’s arrangements, or that he only suspected them; however, the widow managed matters so adroitly that he imagined he must have been mistaken, and that the reports he had heard were not true. The house was elegantly and tastefully furnished, the lady was modestly, yet richly attired, the little boy and his nurse lending an air of respectability to the whole establishment only to be out-done by the conversation and demeanor of the lady herself, who was not only the peer, but the superior of any lady among the large circle of the old gentleman’s acquaintances. He called about some lessons for his eldest daughter, but was informed that Mrs. McClintock no longer gave lessons; he then suggested that she might recommend a teacher of French, and endeavored to prolong the interview, but the lady sedately answered all his queries with a sad and pensive expression far removed from what he had expected, and rising politely, rang the bell for her servant to show him out.
After a little time, however, the old man returned to the charge. He had bought the terrace in which Mrs. McClintock lived, and called to know what he could do, in the way of repairs, etc. He pressed his suit in various ways, but the widow pretended not to see it at all till she had the old man down on his knees; then she played with him most adroitly, explaining that her lonely position left her open to the tongue of rumor, and that she could not allow him to call so frequently. She played her cards so well that the old man firmly believed she was a modest and retiring widow, and did not the law forbid him, he would have married her. As it was, she led him to hand her the deed of the house she lived in, and to settle a large amount on both herself and his child (a beautiful girl), who was born about a year after his first visit to her house in his capacity of landlord.
Notwithstanding all her precautions Mrs. McClintock was the subject of much gossip in the neighborhood in which she resided, and many were the guesses (many of them wide of the mark) which were made about her past history. But they could only talk vaguely and shrug their shoulders at the mention of the lady’s name; for she lived very circumspectly, had a pew in St. Paul’s Church, and stood well with the minister and leading church people; her children too were models of neatness and propriety, and though as unlike as children having one common parent could well be (Jessie being dark and petite with piercing brown eyes, while Charlie was tall and exceedingly fair), yet they had both the enviable reputation of being the best bred and best behaved children on Jefferson Avenue.
As the children grew up they were sent to school, and both, though of different temperament, were distinguished for their superior ability. Jessie was quick at anything requiring an amount of ready talent and acute comprehension, such as Arithmetic, Geometry, and Modern Languages, but Charlie excelled in Classics and what are generally considered the heavier sciences, and was particularly talented as regards music. He would sit for hours playing the exquisite Lieder Ohne worte of Mendelssohn, while Jessie would shrug her shoulders if asked to play, and call on her brother, saying she could not bear “that nasty practising.” In spite, however, of her neglect of this accomplishment (for which she had great natural talent), Jessie McClintock was in great demand in society, and notwithstanding the equivocal position held by her mother (for although not openly expressed there was a general feeling that all was not right with that lady), the young people were asked everywhere, and their mother kept them carefully in the very best circles, for which their natural talents and excellent education eminently fitted them.
The children, who had seen a gentleman supposed to be their father come at intervals and then disappear, naturally were inquisitive, and from an early age were taught that their father was a captain on an Atlantic Steamer, and of course was frequently away from home. As the children grew up the story told by them concerning that gentleman did not coincide with that of the mother, who had always pretended that her husband was dead, so it was thought advisable for her to remove to Montreal (her parents having long since died), and assume the rôle of a grass widow whose husband seldom got off his ship, and then but for a short time, coming generally at night and remaining indoors during his brief stay. Mrs. McClintock bought a house in University street, and rarely went out; her children, however, went to the best schools, and, having made acquaintances, soon began to go out in the best society as they had done in Detroit. Charlie soon became entered as a Law Student in the McGill University, and Jessie had a visiting governess engaged to finish her, a resident young lady, for obvious reasons, being considered out of place. Jessie grew up a beautiful young lady, and was the acknowledged belle in many a drawing room; Charlie went little into society, being engaged in prosecuting his studies in the University, applying himself so assiduously that in a few years he graduated with honors, carrying off a gold medal.
The people who lived opposite Mrs. McClintock on University street were curious to know all about that lady’s proceedings, and set a watch on all her movements. They discovered that at times a carriage was driven hastily up to the door, generally late at night, from which an elderly gentleman alighted and entered the house; but, although on the alert, they were never able to make out his features or even his general appearance, so quickly was the door of the house opened and closed behind him. Yet even this discovery was hailed with delight by the gossips; and as after each visit Jessie appeared with a new watch, locket, brooch, or other trinket (sent, she said, from England by her father), the tongue of evil report wagged freely, and was not at all times strictly confined to the truth.
Mrs. McClintock was much annoyed when she learnt (from a sympathizing friend) of the reports which her neighbors were circulating concerning her; and, as she knew their eyes were constantly upon her house, she managed to invite the clergyman and his wife, with a few others whom she had met in church circles, to dinner, and manifested such an interest in the sewing society that the principal ladies of the congregation called on her in succession; and although they never got beyond an interchange of formal visits, yet it served to puzzle the gossips in the streets, and one or two who had “forgotten” to call on Mrs. McClintock when she first came to the locality paid her a formal visit; their shaky position in society being secured by the fact that all the best people called there, including the Bishop and clergy, and so of course there could be nothing wrong. For all this plausible reasoning they inwardly believed that there was “something wrong,” and many of those who called did so mainly under the apprehension that they would discover something, or read in the countenance of their notorious neighbor something that would give a clue to her past or present career.
But those who called from curiosity were sadly disappointed. The house was neat and well-ordered, yet not extravagantly furnished; those who met the children were astonished at their appearance and apparent good breeding, while the hostess received them with the cool courtesy of an English gentlewoman. The callers went away puzzled more completely than ever, and to add to their mortification the lady did not return one of their calls, shewing thereby that she did not care for their acquaintance. Thus their imaginary condescension was the means of their being snubbed by one whom they considered scarcely fit to be allowed to inhabit the same street.
When Jessie was nineteen her Mother gave a large party, inviting most of the young lady’s school friends, also a number of Charlie’s fellow-students, besides the Rector of the church and his wife and a few of the neighbors who had always been friendly to Mrs. McClintock, although having their own ideas regarding her pretensions. All went merry as a marriage bell, and they beguiled the time with music, whist, bezique, and like recreative amusements, after which supper was announced, and the party sat down to a spread such as few of them had ever been partakers before, and all served in the most elegant style.
The viands having been thoroughly discussed, the Rector rose and proposed the health of the young lady in whose honor they were then assembled, and in a highly moral speech wished her many happy returns, and all the joys this world (and also the next) can afford. The toast was honored with acclamation, and then one of the guests stood up and proposed “the health of Captain and Mrs. McClintock.”
A damper was thrown suddenly on the whole company. Every one seemed to feel embarrassed, and though no one dared to look at his neighbor, and the toast was immediately drank by all, yet there came a peculiar feeling over each person present, as if some spiritualistic influence were at work restraining their speech and laughter, aye and even forbidding them to breathe freely.
For a time the silence remained unbroken. At length Mrs. McClintock motioned to Jessie to rise, thus giving the signal for a general departure to the drawing-room. Here the music was again brought into requisition, and a few of the young people enjoyed themselves with a game of casino, but the hilarity of the early part of the evening was conspicuously absent, those assembled taking an early leave and departing homeward. The gentleman who had unwittingly worked on the feelings of the remainder of the guests felt that there was something oppressive in the atmosphere, and tried to elicit an explanation from a neighbor; but he could get no reply excepting a tongue thrust into that gentleman’s cheek as much as to say—“You’ve put your foot in it, old fellow,” and a significant squeeze of the left arm near the elbow. He had essayed a solo of the harp, and, unfortunately had struck the one cord [not chord] which was out of tune.
Mrs. McClintock preserved an even demeanor throughout the entire evening; indeed, it is questionable if one of the whole party (the young people excepted) there, was one so fully self-possessed; and she had such command over her facial muscles that she bid her guests adieu with a smile as gracious as that with which she had received them. She gave no more parties, however, but, confined herself to inviting a few of her most intimate acquaintances to tea or an informal dinner, to which they were ever ready to accept an invitation; as, whatever might be the antecedents of the McClintocks, they were certainly refined and elegant people, and kept the best table in the city. In time the old gentleman went the way of all flesh, leaving Mrs. M. independent in every respect. She continued to pass for some time as a grass widow, but after a few months she coolly inserted in the Montreal fit papers the following:—“At Calcutta, on the 18th ult., Captain Charles McClintock, in the 56th year of his age.” Then she went into deep mourning, the children also dressing in mourning and refusing to go into society for a time. In about eighteen months after they donned their ordinary attire, and, as many of those now forming the circle known as the “upper ten” did not know, and others did not care to remember, anything concerning their past history, they were received with open arms, being young, accomplished, and, best of all, tolerably wealthy.
Jessie is now married to a wealthy dry goods merchant, and one of the leaders of fashionable society. Charlie is making headway as a lawyer, but, having an independent allowance, does not exert himself very much. The old lady lives pretty much to herself, and, it is said, not unfrequently takes a glass of Curacoa or Moraschino to drown unpleasant reflections. Let us, however, before sitting in judgment upon her, put ourselves in her place, and consider if we would have done half as well (morally) under the circumstances. Although a disobedient daughter, she has proved herself a true wife till shamefully deserted, and a self-denying and tender-hearted mother, who, though giving herself up to shame for their sake, kept her children from every breath of even scandalous report, and placed them as well-educated and respectable members of society. At such a one let only he who is without guilt among us cast a stone.