About ten o’clock William left for his hotel, having first made an appointment with his father for the following morning. When they met William returned to the subject of their previous discourse, and insisted on his father returning with him to Montreal. The old man vowed that, come what might, he would never go back to his “priest-ridden family” as he chose to designate his wife and children. The battle waxed fast and furious, till at last William exclaimed with an oath: “By —— you shall leave your Yankee mistress, then; she shall suffer what my mother suffered;” and with oaths and threatenings he hounded his father out of Boston, determined that Mrs. Hill should not (innocent though she was) enjoy the happy home which was denied to his mother.
When Mrs. Hill learned the truth (which she did from a letter sent her from Montreal) she nearly lost her reason. Her case was even worse than that of Bennett’s first wife; because, whereas the latter could at least seek her husband, and live in the hope of one day finding him again, the former could not, even did she discover him, claim him as her own.
Mr. Hill’s visit to Montreal, then, though ostensibly made for professional pursuits was, in reality to find out something concerning his father’s whereabouts, and other matters connected with his quasi-relations. It was strange that he should have come to me for information without being at all aware of our intimacy with the Bennett family, indeed, while he was relating his story Amelia Bennett, his brother’s eldest child, came running in for something or another, and I at once saw a resemblance between the two, not only in personal appearance, but also in manners and actions.
The next day Mr. Hill, leaving his wife to the care of our family (who had undertaken to show her “the lions”) went forth on his expedition in search of his father. He had obtained from me his brother’s business address, and going to the office unannounced was immediately recognized by him, although they had only met once before, and that a considerable time previously. On explaining the object of his visit, Hall was very coldly received and informed that Bennett the elder had left Montreal for New York some years previously and had not since been heard of. Mr. Hill pretended to believe the story, but secretly determined to keep a watch on his half-brother as he felt certain that the latter was still in communication with his father. He accordingly made arrangements to stay at my house, and as the Bennetts were constantly coming and going he was sure that in a short time he would learn more concerning him of whom he was in search.
One afternoon we were seated round the parlor fire, discussing the usual after-dinner topics, when Mrs. William Bennett dropped in to have a friendly chat. She disclosed the fact that her husband was going to visit a superannuated employee in the nunnery, which he usually did on the first of each month, and that she did not see what reason her husband had to support forever all his broken-down employees. At the first word, Hill listened breathlessly, and when Mrs. Bennett said that she had just left her husband dressing, he quickly, but quietly, left the room. In an instant he was opposite Bennett’s house, and as soon as he noticed the bedroom light extinguished (for it was already dark), he drew back into a shadowed corner till he saw Bennett emerge from the doorway and walk rapidly down the street. Hill followed at a safe distance, but soon he saw his brother hail a passing sleigh, and, entering it, order the driver to take him somewhere; the name of the street, however, he failed to hear, and he felt chagrined to see the neighboring cab-stand completely deserted. “Now or never,” he thought, “am I to attain the object of my visit,” and he dashed madly along the street after the vehicle which was travelling at the rate of ten miles an hour; several times he passed a cab-stand and would fain have taken a fresh horse in pursuit, but he was afraid that while doing so he might lose sight of the sleigh he had followed so far; or confound it with another vehicle, for they were now passing through the centre of the city towards the west end of St. Antoine street.
Past terrace after terrace they flew, till Mr. Hill was nearly faint and breathless, when a sudden turn to the right brought them to the foot of a hill, now Guy street, up which the carter walked his horse, and gave the half dead pedestrian time to recover his breath. When they had proceeded about a quarter of a mile up the hill, the carter drew up at the Nunnery on the left side of the road, and Mr. Bennett, alighting, rang the bell. A sliding panel was immediately pushed aside, and a hooded sister held a few moments conversation with the visitor, on which the door was opened, and he was admitted. Hill, who had been standing in the shadow of the porch, entered unnoticed at his brother’s heels, the janitor being under the impression that they had come in the sleigh together. Walking along a dark corridor they came to a stairway, down which their guide preceded them into the basement; here Hill took a favorable opportunity to turn aside, still keeping his eye on the others till they arrived at the end of the passage and entered a large room where several old men were congregated, some chatting in groups, others smoking or reading lazily. In one of these, with emotions which cannot be described, Hill recognized his father from whom he had so long been separated. His first impulse was to rush boldly in and make himself known, but, the first transport over, his American caution prevailed, and he slipped down another passage which commanded a view of the staircase, and watched from his point of vantage the many persons returning from visiting their friends. He felt relieved when he saw Bennett take his departure, and with one bound he rushed into the middle of the room where the old man was, and, throwing himself round his father’s neck, wept like a child. The old man did not recognize him at first, but when he did he went into hysterics, so great was the shock to his nervous system. Never was there such a commotion in the quiet Nunnery, and the inmates gathered round in excited groups to listen to Hill’s story. He told them that his father had left Boston some years before, and, becoming unable to support himself, had been placed by a heartless elder brother in the cold confines of the Nunnery, although the younger members of the family were both willing and anxious to support their aged parent. There being no reason why the old man should not leave the institution if so inclined, the Superior allowed him, after some hesitation, to take his departure, first receiving the grateful thanks both of himself and of his son for her kind and fostering care. Hill left a letter for his brother, informing him that, his father being willing, he had taken him away from the Nunnery, and that as they evidently did not want to keep him with their families, he was about to take him to live with his.
Bennett was furious when he received the letter, but, as Mrs. Hill was now no more, and no threats or exposures of any kind could induce young Hill and his father to separate, he allowed them to go their way in peace.
A few years after these occurrences Mr. Hill received an appointment in Montreal.
Bennett and he sometimes meet in the street, but give no signs of recognition. The old man is still living, seldom going beyond the portals of his son’s house and passing most of his time in moody meditation on the past. Let us hope that a heartfelt repentance may in some measure atone for his past weaknesses.