Although her husband did not trouble himself whether his wife was or was not received into society, Mrs. D’Alton felt it very keenly. She had not, like him, drank the cup of life’s pleasures till it tasted insipid or even nauseous; on the contrary, she looked on the pomps and vanities of society as only a woman can look on them, and now that she was legally respectable, and rich enough to keep pace with even the most fashionable of her neighbors, it made her very heart ache to think that these scenes of brightness were closed to her as much as ever. She thought of what she might have been had she not in her ambitious haste gone off the right track; and, pained with bitter reflections, and with no one to speak to or converse with (for her husband spent most of his time at the club) she solaced herself, as others in her predicament have done, with the cup of forgetfulness, sinking deeper and deeper at every step, till the habit became confirmed.
Although Mrs. D’Alton had taken her husband into her confidence, and told him truthfully her history, she had not sufficient strength of mind to tell him how ignorant she really was, and that she could not even read and write with accuracy. Her letters to her husband had been written by her nursery-governess, engaged ostensibly to instruct the children; but in reality to act as amanuensis for the lady of the house. The young lady thus engaged was at first rather averse to signing her mistress’ name to her letters without adding her own initials, but the present of a handsome broach and earrings soon quieted her sensitive conscience and she soon fell into the plan, not being unwilling to make use of such a powerful lever for obtaining largesses from Mrs. D’Alton. In time this young lady became so overbearing that her mistress fully made up her mind to discharge her, but a summer trip to Portland being then on the tapis, she allowed her to have her own way, as Mr. D’Alton remained in Montreal, and would naturally expect letters from his wife during her absence. She would have dismissed the governess and engaged another, trusting to her own pleadings and the powerful appeals of her purse to win her over, but the handwriting would not be the same, and she would not for worlds have allowed her husband to think she had deceived him.
The day came for their departure for Orchard Beach, where Mr. D’Alton had taken a cottage for their use. The children were in great glee as they anticipated surf bathing and digging in the sand, but Mrs. D’Alton was moody and down-hearted, the exhilarating effects of a large potion of brandy having worn off and a reaction set in; her husband, however, attributed it to sorrow at her separation from him, and was rather gratified to think she was so deeply affected.
They arrived at her destination in due course, and were comfortably ensconced in the cosy little cottage. Miss Watson, the governess, dressed herself up, and with the children departed for the promenade, and Mrs. D’Alton was left to her own reflections. The thought of her past career, of the opportunities gone for ever, and lastly of the predicament she was now in, shunned by all respectable people, and despised by her own paid servant, who felt her power, and was disposed to wield it unmercifully. The brandy-bottle, her never-failing companion, was by her side, and as she mused mopingly over her sins, she took from time to time copious draughts of the potent spirits, regardless of its power to do otherwise than to rob her of these racking memories of the past. In about two hours the promenaders returned and found her lying back speechless in her chair, the bottle and glass by her side; her eyes rolled wildly as she gazed vacantly on her children, but she was unable to utter a word.
Miss Watson became alarmed and summoned a doctor immediately, who, on entering the room, perceived at once the cause of Mrs. D’Alton’s malady, and ordered her to be conveyed to bed. In the morning she was a little better, being able to speak; but she was still very much shaken, and raved incoherently. Mr. D’Alton was telegraphed for, and came immediately; but, being merely informed that his wife had had a fit, he imagined her to be afflicted with hysteria; indeed, although he knew she was fond of a glass of wine, and often joined him in partaking of brandy and water, he had no idea that she imbibed to such an extent.
In a few days Mrs. D’Alton was able to go out again, and, as during her husband’s stay at Orchard Beach she was particularly abstemious, she was able to associate with the ladies in the hotel, and made several acquaintances, who, seeing that she had the dress and manners of a lady, interchanged calls with her and invited her to visit them in Montreal. On her return to her home, however, these ladies received her but coldly, and when she gave a large party, inviting all those whom she had met at the seaside, “they all, with one accord, began to make excuse,” and at entertainment there was present, besides herself and the family, only a sister of the governess, and one or two bachelor friends of Mr. D’Alton. Dancing was of course out of the question, so they organized two whist parties, and, with a little music, managed to drag along till supper, which was served in Joyce’s best style, and looked unnecessarily elaborate for the small number who were to partake of it.
Mrs. D’Alton was mortified; she had imagined that those people whom she met at the seaside would have judged her on her merits, and would not have taken the trouble to inquire concerning her antecedents. She did not calculate that, what may be allowable at a summer resort, would not be tolerated in Montreal society; moreover, that the tongue of slander had been busily engaged in painting her even blacker than she really was, so that these people, even if personally disposed to associate with her, dared not do so lest they might lose their own insecure foothold on the ladder of social position. In moody silence she presided throughout the entire evening; she was enraged at herself and at the poor enslaved creatures who, though anxious to go and enjoy themselves yet dared not infringe the rules laid down by society; and, as she drank glass after glass of her husband’s famous Moselle, she became more and more despondent.
About midnight Amy Watson, the sister of the nursery-governess, took her departure, and Mr. D’Alton with his friends, went up to the billiard room to enjoy themselves at their favorite game. It was near daylight ere they grew tired of pocketing the ivory spheres, and left their host to close the doors, and retire to his room. When he did so what a sight met his gaze! There lay his wife in all the finery she had arrayed herself to dazzle her fashionable acquaintances, a speechless corpse! a brandy-bottle, nearly emptied, lay at her side, telling too plainly what had been the cause of her untimely death. Her husband’s first impulse was to ring the bell and send for a doctor, but, knowing the scandal that would surely ensue, he quietly let himself out, and went for Dr. Hickson, being determined not to give up hope till he had done all that could possibly be done. The doctor on examining the body shook his head ominously, confirming Mr. D’Alton in the belief that his wife was no more; he considerately agreed to remain in the house, and not to inform the servants for some time of the occurrence. The doctor’s presence, of course, excited some alarm, and in a short time it was known that Mrs. D’Alton was dangerously ill, the announcement of her death being reserved for a time till all the traces of the recent festivities were removed, and the house had resumed its normal condition.
When the children heard of their mother’s death they rent the air with their cries of anguish; even Miss Watson shed real tears, her occupation, like that of Othello, being gone. Poor Mr. D’Alton was almost beside himself. He had never loved another woman; and, though he was not blind to his wife’s failings and shortcomings, he nevertheless lamented the loss of one, who, whatever her faults, was true to him and a good mother to his children.
In the meantime what had become of Cissie Wilson, Mrs. D’Alton’s elder sister? She had endeavored to persuade Mrs. D’Alton to engage her as governess to her children, but the latter, once married, refused to hold any communication with her whatever. Miss Wilson then despairing of finding a road to reform in Montreal, took her departure for Toronto, taking a position as governess in one of the leading families there. On hearing of her sister’s death she wrote to Mr. D’Alton, offering to take charge of the children till he had time to make permanent arrangements for their education. To this letter she received no reply, which nettled her so much that she determined on a plot for wounding the pride of her haughty brother-in-law. “Who is he,” she would exclaim, “that he should dare to snub me?” “If I have sinned, was she not equally bad, and is he not guilty himself?” “Never mind, Mr. D’Alton, I will have my revenge some day.” She racked her brain to think of some means of repaying him for his severity to her, but could think of nothing at the time, and so resolved to wait and watch her opportunity.