The Mysteries of Montreal: Being Recollections of a Female Physician

by Ch. Führer

Among the numerous acquaintances of Miss Flint was Mrs. De Beaumont, a Southern lady of means, whose husband held a high official position in New Orleans. Mrs. De Beaumont had, in order to avoid the yellow fever epidemic, taken up her residence temporarily in Montreal, and was now with her two daughters about to return to her Southern home. The education of the latter young ladies had been somewhat neglected, and Mrs. De Beaumont was anxious to procure as governess and travelling companion a young lady of moderate means and unlimited ability.

Here, then, was an opening for Beatrice. On the recommendation of Miss Flint, coupled with certificates from the various professors at Mrs. Thompson’s school, the poor girl was duly installed in an easy and, to her, lucrative position. She was not long settled in her new home when Mr. Hartley, brother of Mrs. De Beaumont, fell violently in love with her, and, contrary to the wishes of his relations, insisted on paying her open attention. The poor girl had been so long accustomed to being buffeted and slighted in every way that her heart fairly gave way before his passionate wooing, and, although Mrs. De Beaumont frowned on her angrily, and the rest of the family snubbed her grievously, yet Beatrice felt so happy in having some one in whom she could confide that she bore all their petty annoyances with the utmost forbearance, and refused steadily to take the slightest notice of them.

Mr. Hartley was a planter of considerable wealth. He had long lived a bachelor’s life; so long, indeed, that his friends never thought he would marry, and each one often unconsciously counted how much of the property would eventually become his. Mrs. De Beaumont was particularly displeased when she heard his open avowal of his attachment for her governess, for, though Hartley was not an old man, he being at that time only about forty-six years old, yet she had hoped that her daughter would have inherited a portion of his vast wealth, which was now about to be transferred to a stranger, without friends, fortune or name. In spite of this secret antipathy to the match, Mrs. De Beaumont openly pretended the greatest friendship for Beatrice, for, being a woman of the world, she saw clearly how matters would stand in a few years, and she could not afford to break either with her brother or his intended wife.

The wedding came off with all the aristocratic splendor of an F. F. V. ceremonial. The dusky coachmen and footmen were resplendent with gorgeous liveries and wedding favors, their white teeth glistening in the sun as they grinned from ear to ear, perfectly happy and contented. After the ceremony the newly-married pair went for a brief tour through the Eastern States and Canada, returning to Mr. Hartley’s plantation, where Mrs. Hartley was called upon by all the leading families in the vicinity, and took her place with as much grace as though she had been “to the manner born.” Mrs. De Beaumont greeted her sister-in-law affectionately (at least to all outward appearances), and invited her to visit her old home frequently; in fact all those who were aware (and who was not) that Mr. Hartley had settled every penny of his fortune on his wife and her prospective offspring were lavish of their attentions to their beautiful, and now immensely wealthy, neighbor.

When her first baby, a little girl, was born, Mrs. Hartley wept bitterly and refused (like Rachel) to be comforted. Her husband could not understand it at all, and was greatly grieved that she should be so down-hearted when they had both every reason, to be happy. Beatrice besought him to forgive her weakness, and explained that it was only now that she was a mother that she fully realized the anguish her own mother must have suffered at parting with her, and she implored him as he loved her to exert himself to find her mother and make her happy. Had his wife told him to lie down whilst she drove a carriage-wheel across his neck, Mr. Hartley would have unhesitatingly obeyed her; how readily, then, he set about finding what most men are so glad to be without, viz., a mother-in-law, can easily be imagined. He promised his wife that so soon as business permitted him he would take steps to discover her mother’s whereabouts, but that night he was awakened out of a deep sleep by cries of terror from his wife; she had had a dream, she said, that her mother hung over a precipice, looking up to her for help, which, while she hastened to give, she saw her mother sink into the yawning abyss, uttering shrieks of agony. Hartley was beside himself with fright; he thought his wife would lose her reason, and so he quieted her by assuring her that he would write the next day to get information, acting on which he would set out immediately on his search. In the morning he despatched a letter to Mr. F—— in Montreal, instructing him to obtain what information he could respecting a girl called Ellen MacNee who had lived in former years with Mrs. Rogers; in reply he was informed that the girl left the city, no trace being procurable. He then inserted advertisements in several Canadian newspapers, informing the public that if Ellen MacNee would correspond with X. Y. Z. she would hear of something to her advantage. But in vain did the fond husband seek the mother of his blue-eyed darling, now grown pale with deferred hope and anxious care, and when the latter proposed that they should personally go to Montreal in search of their missing relative he readily acquiesced, feeling assured that, even if they were unsuccessful, the excitement of travel and occupation would restore the bloom to his wife’s cheeks and preserve that health which, was now apparently on the wane.

In a few days they had made preparations for an extended tour, and ere a week had passed they were snugly quartered in the St. Lawrence Hall, Montreal. The day after their arrival they called on me to know if I could assist them in their search, bidding me spare no expense in order to effect the desired object. I promised them every assistance in my power, and at once placed myself in communication with all those whom I had known to have any dealings with Beatrice’s unfortunate mother. It was truly painful to see the anxious face of the young woman as she came daily to me to enquire if I had heard any news, and when I showed her a letter from Mr. MacNee, her mother’s eldest brother, stating that his sister had gone to New York as nurse, she immediately persuaded her husband to give chase. Their efforts were in vain, however. The girl, it was true, had taken service in New York, but had subsequently left there for her home in Glengarry, and had never been seen since either there or in New York. Detectives having again been employed to assist in tracing her movements, it was discovered that she had returned by rail to Montreal en route to Glengarry, but here all traces vanished, and the supposition was either that she had committed suicide, or met with some accidental death. Beatrice would have it, however, that she was still alive, and would leave no stone unturned to find her. It was suggested that New York should again be visited, as the probability was that she returned there after her trip to Montreal; various other plans were thought of, and some of them, doubtless, would have been acted upon, had not a new light shone in upon the scene.

At the outset of the proceedings I had communicated with the principals of the various Houses of Refuge in this city, and, although the authorities had done their utmost to facilitate our search, so far we had failed to advance in any way. At this time, however, I received a communication from the Bishop, informing me that he thought he could help us, and when I called on him, accompanied by Mr. and Mrs. Hartley, he told us that he had been visited by a hardened creature, whose name did not concern us, and who, in anticipation of a reward which she had heard was offered for the recovery of the recluse, disclosed the fact that she had, under an assumed name, become a sister of charity, and was at present an inmate in a convent in —— street, where we would, doubtless, be able to recognize her.

Beatrice became quite excited at the news, and insisted on rushing off at once, but her strength failed her, and she fell fainting on a sofa. By great persuasion she allowed us to drive her home on the promise that she would be allowed to accompany us on the morrow. The next day we entered a carriage and drove to the Convent; we agreed that Beatrice should go alone to meet her mother while we remained downstairs. Running into the room where her mother was, the poor girl fell on her neck and covered her with kisses. But no responsive greeting met the impetuous child, the woman stared at her with a wild hazy stare as if to inquire, Who are you? What do you mean by these extravagant caresses?

But if she failed to recognize her child she did not fail to recognize me, and by some strange association of ideas she seemed to wander in thought back to her past life, and the hot blood mounted to her temples. When she became calmer I explained to her how we had come there, and the object of our visit. She was touched at the proofs of her daughter’s affection, and the hot tears rolled rapidly down her furrowed cheek, but she steadily refused to leave the institution. In vain the poor girl pleaded, and Mr. Hartley and myself joined in our entreaties that she would accompany her daughter and her husband. Finding all our arguments of no avail I advised Mr. Hartley to let the poor creature have her way till the reality of the situation had come home to her, recommending him to allow his wife to call frequently at the Convent to see her mother. This advice the indulgent husband acted upon, and day after day Beatrice would go and sit for hours conversing with her parent, sometimes obtaining permission to take her for a walk or a drive, and secretly longing, though never expressing it in words, that her mother would accompany her back to her home in the South.

So far the excitement had kept Mrs. Hartley up, but after a time a reaction set in which culminated in a wasting fever, and prostrated the poor creature on a bed of sickness. This, though apparently disastrous, ended happily for all. Beatrice’s mother, so long as she was the object of pity, shrank from all communication with her rich relatives, but now that her child was in need of assistance, she flew to her with a mother’s impetuosity, and anxiously watched by her couch day and night, while the poor thing tossed and raved in delirious paroxysms. Mr. Hartley summoned Dr. Hickson to his wife’s bedside, but that astute practitioner wisely foretold that the magnetic influence of her mother’s presence would do more for his patient than any drugs or medicines, and, accordingly, he contented himself by prescribing a sleeping-draught, leaving other agencies to do their work.