CHAPTER XV. A DUPER DUPED.
I shall now proceed to relate a magisterial reminiscence in which the only fictions are the names of the parties, and I trust that at the termination of the narrative, my readers will agree in the moral which I shall attempt to deduce, that the person who commences a cheating game is not to be pitied, if, at the close, he finds himself the only loser.
Twenty-five years have elapsed since, in an aristocratic family, in a central county of Ireland, a young woman was residing in a capacity rather difficult to define. She was somewhat above a menial and below a governess, neither the companion of her employers nor the associate of the servants. Her educational attainments were very limited, and her industrial power was of little value, for she was of small frame and delicate constitution. The care of two children was deputed to her, and all services necessary for their health, comfort, instruction, correction, or amusement were expected from Elizabeth Jones.
She had enough to do, but she did not think so. Her life was monotonous, her tastes were not congenial to the circumstances and persons amongst whom she was placed. A native of Wales, far from her kindred, and prevented by her position from forming, amongst her own sex, a friendship, or even an acquaintance to which she could attach any value, her only resource was to fall in love,—and a few casual attentions from an officer of constabulary quite overcame poor Elizabeth Jones.
"He dazzled her eyes, he bewilder'd her brain,
He caught her affections so light and so vain."
He perceived that he was loved, and pretended a reciprocal feeling. He promised, and vowed, and swore that she should be his wife, and he deceived her.
Richard Gilmore was sorely annoyed when Elizabeth Jones suggested very strong reasons for the immediate observance of his solemn promise of marriage; but he refused compliance, and sought to convince her that their union would only ruin him without saving her. She addressed her remonstrances to deaf ears. Marriage was out of the question, and she found herself a ruined, friendless creature, with the certainty of a speedy and disgraceful expulsion from the house in which she had for some years humbly earned her subsistence. However she vented no reproaches; she only upbraided with a tear, and communicated her determination to depart and carry her sorrows to some distant locality. Of this intention Richard fully approved; and he congratulated himself on the prospect of being so soon delivered from any future annoyance on the part of Elizabeth Jones. She fixed the time for leaving her situation, and requested a last interview with Mr. Gilmore, at an early hour, before the inmates of the house were stirring. Richard was punctual. She opened a writing-desk, and informed him that she had come to the resolution of releasing him from every promise on his part, from every claim which she could advance then or at any future time, on one condition; she only required his written pledge, upon his honor as an officer and a gentleman, that he would never seek to renew his acquaintance with her, or even pretend to know her if they met. To this he joyfully acceded, and placed the required document in her hands; but his curiosity induced him to enquire as to her motive in seeking such a solemn written undertaking.
"Richard Gilmore," she said, "I was prostrated by acute and increasing misery, but a door of escape from total disgrace and destruction has been opened. I can never be happy, but I may have some opportunity for reflection, and ultimately, my mind may become somewhat tranquil. I shall soon be a mother. I am about to depart from Ireland for ever, and shall fix my residence in a retired part of England, and there, in the garb and under the designation of a widow, I shall devote myself to the care of the child of whom you are father, but for whom, I only insist and have stipulated with you, that you shall never disgrace your offspring by disclosing its paternity, and never remind me by your presence of the degradation to which, by your falsehood, I have been reduced."
"But," said Gilmore, "your means are scanty, and for a time you must be incapable of any industrial pursuit or exertion. I can give you some pecuniary assistance; it is my duty to do all I can to alleviate your sufferings. I deserve your reproaches, and would gladly do anything to prove that I am not so utterly heartless as you think me."
"No, Richard Gilmore; not a farthing would I receive from you, if it were to save me from starvation. To you I owe my ruin, but with you I have no further communication; and I shall never allow you to think that I have compromised my wrongs for money, or taken a price for my character. Moreover, I may now tell you that I shall not want your assistance; and as I feel that you dare not break your written undertaking, you may read this."
She placed in his hands a letter, of which the following is a copy, substituting fictitious names:—
"Abergavenny, June 14th, 1847.
"Miss Elizabeth Jones,
"Madame, I hasten to apprize you of the death of your lamented aunt, Miss Rebecca Jones, who expired yesterday morning, after a very short indisposition. The respectable deceased applied for my professional assistance about three weeks since, in the settlement of her worldly affairs. For some years she had lived in great seclusion, and was extremely averse to any communication with your brother; she would never see his wife. In fact, her relatives seem to have been disliked in proportion to the proximity of their residence; and it is to your long absence from her that I ascribe the preference which she has evinced towards you, on which I offer you my respectful congratulations.
"By your aunt's will (which is in my possession) she has devised to you several freehold interests in and adjacent to this town, producing about £300 per annum; she has also bequeathed to you £2,000 secured by mortgage on the property of Mr. Deacon, of Aberystwith, and a bond of Mr. Edmond Morgan, of Cardiff, for £1,100.
"I hope, Madame, you will feel that in the capacity of your respective relative's confidential adviser I have not been hostile or even indifferent to your interests; and I beg to assure you that, if your affairs are entrusted to my care, I shall make every exertion to justify the preference that I respectfully solicit.
"I have the honour to be, Madame,
"Your obedient, humble servant,
David Wynne, Solicitor."PS.—Mrs. Wynne desires me to convey, with her respects, a request that if you visit Abergavenny, you will honor her and me by becoming our guest during your stay."
"Good heaven!" exclaimed Richard Gilmore, "how delighted I am, my dearest Lizzie, at your good fortune." I shall fully and faithfully observe my pledge; but before we part, consider well whether you should not use your altered circumstances for your own comfort, for the complete prevention of every future pain and difficulty, and above all, for the sake of your unborn offspring. If I could, without absolute ruin, have redeemed the promise which my passion produced, you should never have had occasion to upbraid me. I loved you fondly, dearly; and it is in your power to give me an opportunity of proving, whilst we live, a faithful and devoted husband."
"Ah, no!" said Elizabeth, "our marriage could never be happy; we would be mutually miserable. You would never respect her whom, in her supposed poverty, you scorned; and our union now would be as much the subject of scandalous comment as if you wedded me this day openly at the church of Castle——."
"If you marry me, my darling Lizzie, I shall adopt means to prevent exposure, or even suspicion. You shall leave this place immediately, go up to Dublin, and take a lodging in one of the small city parishes, where few Protestants reside. I shall obtain leave of absence, follow you to Dublin, take out a license, and after a short stay I shall return and effect an exchange to a remote county, where I can present you to society as my wife, without any suspicion being entertained that our union has been too recent for your reputation. There your child can be born without any stain on its birth, or any cloud on its future prospects. Come, Lizzie dear, forget and forgive; I am still your own fond Richard."
He seized her hand, her struggle was slight, his arm encircled her waist, and on her lips he imprinted the seal of his future truth and of her present forgiveness. In two days Elizabeth Jones was lodging in Nicholas Street, Dublin, and in about a week Richard Gilmore was married to her in the church of St. Nicholas. The wedding was very private and quiet, the only witnesses being the man in whose house they lodged, his wife, and two young persons whose attendance they procured.
Three or four days elapsed, and Richard Gilmore accosted his bride. "Lizzy," he said, "I cannot delay my return to duty beyond another week. I have already made application for an exchange; but before I return to the country, I think it would be well if I went over to Wales and regulated the future receipt of your rents, and also ascertained how the money due by Deacon and Morgan is circumstanced. If they pay five per cent, punctually, we shall be very comfortable. I have calculated that, with my pay, we shall have near £600 a-year. I shall buy a nice jaunting-car and——"
"You need not trouble yourself, Richard," said Mrs. Gilmore, very solemnly, "about my property in Wales. In fact, I have just taken a leaf out of your own book, and if the perusal is disagreeable, it is not to me that the authorship should be imputed. You made me a promise of marriage, you broke your word, and refused to save me from disgrace and misery. I procured a letter to be written about property that never existed, and made you believe that it was your interest to marry her whom your affection or sense of honor did not suffice to shield from destruction."
"You infernal Jezebel! you lying profligate! debased and degraded you shall be. I shall never live another hour with you. I shall never give a farthing to save you or your brat from starvation."
"I thank you, Mr. Gilmore, for myself and my coming brat. Thank heaven, you cannot say my bastard. You know what course it best answers you to take, but——"
Richard Gilmore was gone. Presently he was heard descending the stairs, and in a few minutes more the landlady announced to Mrs. Gilmore that her husband had departed, having first paid the lodging rent for the coming week, and having relinquished any further tenancy.
Mrs. Gilmore heard this intelligence with surprising calmness, and replied by informing the landlady of Mr. Gilmore's position, and of the place where he was stationed; adding that she would stay for the time for which the rent was paid, and that then, when she would be really destitute, she would go to THE WORKHOUSE. She imparted a good deal of confidence to the landlady, whom we shall name Mrs. Canavan, and who, seeing that she would not lose anything, gave Mrs. Gilmore her utmost sympathy. Mrs. Canavan was a fair specimen of human nature; for we never refuse our sympathy to our unfortunate fellow-creatures when we are not asked for anything more.
In another week Mrs. Gilmore proceeded to the South Dublin Union Workhouse, and there informed the admission committee that her husband was a constabulary officer; that his income was about double the reality; that he had some private property and great expectations; and that she, on the eve of her accouchement, was deserted by her husband, and compelled to become an inmate of the workhouse.
The committee admitted the applicant, registered the admission, and brought the case before the Board of Guardians on the following Thursday, when they obtained a ready sanction to prosecute Mr. Gilmore for deserting his wife, and leaving her, as a pauper, chargeable on the rates. A summons bearing my signature issued, and the constabulary officer appeared at the police-court. The marriage was proved, as were the circumstances of the desertion. On the part of the Guardians a demand was made for the immediate committal of the delinquent, to be imprisoned, with hard labor for three months. Richard Gilmore escaped a formal conviction by paying the expenses already incurred, and undertaking to allow twenty shillings weekly for his wife's maintenance. All parties left the police-court; but in an hour or two after the case had been heard, Richard Gilmore returned and applied to me to have Elizabeth Jones, calling herself Gilmore, apprehended on a charge of bigamy. He alleged that she had been married in Wales about four years previous to her marriage with him, and that her husband, Thomas Jones, was still living. His assertions were made on statements which he had received from others. He had no legal evidence of the charge, and I refused to issue a warrant for the apprehension of the alleged bigamist, but he determined to persist in the accusation. He seized on his wife in the public street, and gave her into the custody of a constable on a charge of felony. On the following morning he stated on oath that he had been informed, and fully believed, that the prisoner had been married to one Thomas Jones in a parish church near Carnarvon; that said Thomas was still living; and he further swore to the marriage of the prisoner with himself in the city of Dublin. He asked for a remand, and stated that he expected to produce witnesses from Wales to prove his charge. I remanded the accused for six days, and Richard left Dublin by the next Holyhead packet in quest of evidence to convict his wife. Before she was removed to prison she sent to me a short note, in which she implored me to direct that no person should be permitted to see her in the prison unless at her own request; and further, that on the day for resuming the investigation, she should be placed amongst a number of females, and that the witnesses should be required to identify her from amongst the others. I considered those requests to be fair and reasonable, and directed that they should be complied with. Richard Gilmore returned to Dublin the day before the resumption of the case. He brought over two witnesses, and sought at the prison to give them a view of the accused, but they were denied admittance. On the appointed day Elizabeth Gilmore was brought from the prison, and placed in the carriage-court with about a dozen of other females, amongst whom was Mrs. Canavan, her Nicholas Street landlady, who manifested great interest in her sufferings, and great indignation at Richard Gilmore's attempt to transport an innocent creature whom he had vowed to love and cherish. Without separating the prisoner from the other women, I proceeded to swear the first witness, one William Jones, who stated that he was a parish clerk of some unpronounceable place in Wales; that he remembered the marriage of Thomas Jones and Elizabeth Jones, and he produced the registry; he recollected the matter very distinctly, the more so from the parties being both of the same name as himself. I directed him to look at the women present, and to point out the one whom he had seen married at the time mentioned in the registry if she was amongst them. Mr. Jones walked to the group, viewed all the women, and very deliberately placing his hand on Mrs. Canavan's shoulder, identified her as the culprit. He was instantly electrified by a burst of abuse, delivered in an accent acquired much nearer to Patrick Street than to Penmaemawr.
Mrs. Canavan's vocabulary was too copious to be select. I do not think that I could have restrained her, and I admit that I allowed her a latitude from which I derived some amusement. She descanted on the propriety of "cropping the ears"[5] of perjured parish clerks, but gave up that idea as, on full consideration, it appeared too mild a treatment for the Welshman. She proceeded to assure him, that there was not a gaol in Ireland that would refuse him admission; and that in no place of such a description could he meet with anyone worse than himself. She appealed to my benevolent tendencies to have the Welsh fellow transported at once, upon the grounds that it would be "a charity;" and she descanted on the physiological defect in such a parish clerk having been born without handcuffs, suggesting an artificial amendment of the natural deficiency. She thanked Mr. Jones for the pleasant news, that she had one husband in Dublin and another in Wales, and assured him that he might expect some very particular attentions from the Dublin one in acknowledgment of his testimony.
"And still she talked, and still the wonder spread,
That one small tongue could utter all she said."
The parish clerk was overwhelmed with confusion, but Richard Gilmore persisted in his charge, and demanded the examination of his remaining witness. Accordingly, a Mrs. Edwards was sworn. She deposed that the Thomas Jones mentioned in the registry was her brother. She had not been present at the marriage, but was satisfied that her brother was living, for she had seen him at Swansea about a month previous, at which time he was proceeding to America as supercargo in a merchant vessel. On further examination, she stated that she was aware that Thomas and Elizabeth Jones had separated within the last two years, and this put an end to the case, for a reference to Gilmore's information showed that his acquaintance with the prisoner commenced nearly three years before their marriage. I remarked that the only allegation fully and clearly proved was the marriage of Mr. Gilmore to Miss Jones in the church of St. Nicholas; and it only remained for me to discharge the prisoner, to congratulate the parties on the removal of all imputation on the legality of their union, and to wish them many years of connubial happiness. Richard Gilmore did not manifest the slightest gratitude for this kind expression; he left the court without asking his wife to accompany him, but she was not compelled to betake herself again to the workhouse. Her weekly stipend was continued. Soon afterwards a son was born, and he is now a confidential employé in an extensive mercantile establishment in Dublin. I do not believe that he ever sought his father, or that his father ever took the slightest notice of him. Wishing him prosperity and happiness, I hope that he may never be necessitated to engage in any correspondence or enquiry relative to his mother's property in Wales. She resided for a considerable time in one of our southern suburbs, and latterly affected no secrecy as to the means which she adopted to effect her marriage. In the year 1858, I expressed, in some conversations with a medical man of her acquaintance, a wish for the particulars, and a copy of the letter which I have given to my readers was enclosed to me by post, without any accompanying condition, or even an indication of the quarter from whence it was furnished.