D’Alton had not calculated on this, and was for a time taken a little aback. His last card, however, was not yet played; and, summoning all his energies together, he braced himself for the enactment of that, which under other circumstances, he would have suffered much rather than become in any sense a party thereto. Addressing the lady once more he said:—“What, then, was your object in writing these letters?”
“My object was to disclose the truth,” she cried, vehemently, “to denounce you as a blackhearted villain, and to save an unsuspecting youth from becoming the victim of your deep-laid schemes.”
D’Alton bit his lip with passion, but restrained himself. “And you do all this solely from conscientious motives,” he said with a sneer.
“My conscience, like your own, Mr. D’Alton, is pretty well hardened. No; I have no conscientious motives to impel me to show your true character to the world; but revenge is sweet, and I have not forgotten the scorn and contempt with which both you and your fashionable wife treated me while I was in Montreal. I was not good enough to touch the hem of your garments, but she was dressed up and paraded in the drawing-rooms of those who did not know better than to admit her, and now her b—— daughter is to wed a scion of a noble house, while I am not even recognized. No, Robert D’Alton, you will not become respectable and leave me out in the cold, insulting and spurning me at every turn with your petty offers of money. I have sworn to have my revenge, and by —— now that the opportunity offers, I will have it, too!”
She had worked herself up to state of uncontrollable fury. Her eyes rolled wildly, and she looked like one demented. This gave the devil his opportunity, for D’Alton, who had been halting between two opinions, came to a hasty conclusion, and bringing the interview to a close, hurriedly left the house, his teeth firmly set, and a horrid glare in his eyes. He walked rapidly down Yonge street and along the east end of King street, then, hailing a cab, he directed the driver to travel towards the west end, coming to a halt opposite the Lunatic Asylum. Entering he enquired for Dr. Tuffnell, and was informed that he would likely find that gentleman at his residence on Jarvis street. On repairing thither he found the doctor at home, and, requesting a few minutes’ private conversation, was soon closeted in the consultation room. “I have long intended to see you,” Mr. D’Alton began, “about a young lady who lived in our family some years ago in the capacity of nursery-governess. She was always of a somewhat flighty disposition, which we used to humour as best we could, and when she left us (at my wife’s death) for Toronto, we fancied she had quite recovered, but it seems she has been gradually growing worse, and she now continually torments our friends and us with letters full of ridiculous flights of fancy, which, though meaningless to those who understand how she has been afflicted, might possibly cause serious trouble.”
“Has the young lady, then, no friends or relatives?”
“None, whatever. She was taken out of an orphan asylum by an aged clergyman, now deceased, who adopted her, and since his death she has supported herself by teaching. We consulted our physician about her some time ago, when she imagined herself to be my wife, and ordered her mistress down to the kitchen. He thought it would be advisable for her to take another situation away from us till her health improved, as she was continually fancying herself trampled upon by some member of the family; we accordingly procured for her a situation in a friend’s house in Montreal, but they in turn became frightened of her, and dismissed her, which dismissal, strange to say, she attributed to me. She now imagines herself to be my wife’s sister, and demands an entrance into my house, denouncing me in the vilest terms, and writing scandalous letters to all my acquaintances.”
“Are you sure she is insane?”
“Well, I have long tried to persuade myself that she is not, but latterly she has grown so violent that I am afraid that what I said years ago to my late wife in fun about her being demented was only painfully true. If you would kindly visit her and give me your opinion concerning her case, you would oblige me very much.”
“What does her present mistress say about her?”