CHAPTER XXXV. MRS FOXBOROUGH'S CONFESSION.

Waikato Times, Volume XXVII, Issue 2251, 11 December 1886, Page 1 (Supplement)

CHAPTER XXXV. MRS FOXBOROUGH'S CONFESSION.

That Miss Hyde should bo anxious to make the acquaintance of the mother she hardly knew, and of the half-sister she had never seen, was only natural ; but her feelings had been so aroused by the enthusiastic manner in which Morant spoke of them that her desire to do so had become feverish. Herbert spoke of Mrs Foxborough as one of the noblest, greatest-hearted women it had ever been his lot to know ; and it is not every day that sons-in-law elect show such passionate admiration for the mothers of their sweethearts. That he should rave about Nid was only natural ; if a man of Herbert's age don't express himself in somewhat extravagant fashion regarding the girl he is about to marry, he must be either of a very phlegmatic temperament, or very mildly in love, and of those failings nobody could posßibly accuse Mr Morant. Phil Soames too could not resist feeling some curiosity to see people to whom he was likely to be so nearly allied as Mrs Foxborough and her daughter, and it took very little persuasion on Bessie's part to induce him to agree to run up with her and Herbert to London, and be presented at Tapton Cottage. • You must come Phil, dear. You know what Herbert w. When he once gets beside Nid I shall never see him again, and be left to take oare of myself ; and though Herbert in his reckless way declares that mamma will be delighted to see me, I don't feel quito sure about how she will brook my intruhion on her home. {She has always been charming and tender upon the rare occasions on which she has come to see me, but she has never hinted that I should como and see her'— -a speech that shows Mr Morant and Miss Hyde had speedily anived at terras of easy confidence. * What reasons there might have been, Bessie, for Mrs Foxborough handing you o?er to the care of your aunt I can't guess, but I think no mother is likely not to be proud to own you as a daughter now.' 'Oh, Phil, Phil,' oried ßessie, laughing, 1 to think of your giving utterance to such shameful flattery ! 1 1 don't know that there's much flattery about it, darling,' replied the young man as he wound his arm round her waist. *If after a hard struggle one gains the prize one's set one's heart on, I think one's justified in being just a weB bit proud of the prize.' ' How you do *poil me, and how was I over so mad as not to tell you my story at once,' replied Bessie, as she dropped* her head on his breast with the inevitable result. 'But you'll come to town with Herbert and me to-morrow, that's understood V f You don't suppose I'd give a chance, child, for any other fellow to rua away with my property,' and then came some further assertion ©f his being the rightful owner of 'the property,' scarcely interesting to readers or lookevs-on. And bo the very morning that Usher, the '■übiquitous, was upsetting Mr Marlinson'a equilibrium at the Hopbine, Phil Soames, Morant, and Miss Hyde took the train for London. They were not, however, destined to depart altogether unchallenged. Mr Totterdell, in his thirst for information concerning the doing of everybody and everything", was on the platform buying" newspapers. He was a ifieat firqnentfr of the station. Ho likpd to know who came to, and who departed from Bmtnboroufrh, and the why and the wli^re i-f their journey was a upeci d objoct of intenst" to the old genflernan. The Mght of Phil S'-ani' 1 " and his fiiend Herbert Morant with Miss Hydt>, all fvidentiy awaiting" the Louden train, was like the trumpet to the wsir-horce. 'Going to London, Mr Sonnies ?' ovclaimcd Mr Totterdell, ns ho sidled up to

them. ' Can hardly bo pleasure, I suppose, while this terrible mystery in which wo are ull so interested remains unHettled. ' ' Yes, I'm going to Londou,' rejoined Philip drily. 'Got a bit of shopping to do, eh, Miss Hyde ?' ' A lady always has that, Mr Totterdell, but I'm not going to London for that purpose.' ' On business of importance, eh ?' 'Just ho,' rejoined Herbert Morant, outtinginto the conversation. 'We are all going up to see tho pantomime?. ' ' Pantomimes, my dear young friend,' said Mr Totterdell, ' why, bless you, they don't commeaoe for another six weeks.' •No, 1 rejoined Morant serenely, 'but there's nothing like being in time to get a good seat. Never, Mr Totterdell, neglect that golden advice on the playbills, ' Come early.' ' Here Phil Soames and Bessie could control their laughter no longer, but just then the London train fortunately glided into the station and the two jumped hastily into a first-class carriage, leaving Mr Totterdell' jibbering impotently in his wrath. Arrived in town they drove straight to Taptoa Cottage and, as pre-arranged, Morant jumped out and knocked, leaving his companions in the cab. Bessio was fearfully nervous. She feared how the scarcely" known mother might take this unauthorised intrusion » and, poor girl, she so yearned for pome neat relations she could love. The-bitter experience of her puritanical aunt and waspish cousins had left sad memories in her mind, and though Phil Soames* Had in a. great.measure succeeded in obliterating them, still Bessie craved for the lore of that handsome mother she had so seldom seen. 1 Do you think she's very angry at my coming, Phil ?' sho whispered, as she stole her hand into her lover's. •Nonsense, child!' he replied, as he pressed it. 'Don't be foolish. Morant must be given a few minutes to explain matters.' Suddenly the door opened, and a tall handsome woman, with a wealth of obestnut hair crowning; her head^ rushed down the steps, and exclaimed as she impetuously wrenched open the cab-door :—: — 1 Bessie, my darling, where are you ? Come in at once, dearest, and you, too, Mr Soames, for of murse you are Mr Soames. To thi.jk, child, that your mother would not be too glad to see you in your own home. Oh, my darling, I've a long story to whisper into your ears when I get you inside.' When they entered the drawing-room, Nid was standing, her face all aglow with excitement, waiting to welcome her new sister. For a aecond or two she regarded her shyly, then the girl's impulsive nature asserted itself and, without more ado, she made a rush at Bes.-ie, threw her arms around her neck, and kissed her passionately. ' There, that will do, Nid,' said Mrs Poxborough, in a low voice, as she gently separated the two girls. 'Take her into the library, Herbert, and let her there make acquaintance with her brother-in-law that is to be. You will forgive me, Mr Soames, but I have a full confession to make to my daughter, and I am sure,' she continued, addressing herself to him as her voice sank almost to a whisper, ' You do not wish to make the story of a woman's weakness harder for her to tell than necessary. ' 'I assure you, Mrs Foxborough'—— interposed Phil. 1 No,' she continued, still speaking to him and recognising instinctively that he was the master spirit of the party, ' I know you don't,' and lowering her head as few people had ever chanced to see the proud Nydia Willoughby do before, 'but Bessie must learn the truth from my lips at last. You and she, I daresay, know the outline of it already. Spare me its being further bruited abroad.' She presented so sad a sight in this her hour of humiliation, and the low tremulous tones vibrated so painfully on the heartstrings of her hearers, that the two girls burst into tears, while Mrs Foxborough stood silent and abased. Phil Soames, however, rose promptly to the occasion. 1 Kiss and comfort her, Bessie ; go to her, child,' and he placed the weeping girl in her mother's arms, and raising Mrs Foxborough's hand to his lips kissed it. ' Take Nydia to the library, I will follow you and try to make my sister-in-law's acquaintance.' For a second Nid hesitated to give way to Morant's light grasp upon her arm ; then she mutely clasped Phil's hand and, yielding to her lover's gentle compulsion, drew him after her as they left the room. 'Oh, Bessie darling,' exclaimed Mrs Foxborough, as she wound her arm- about her daughter. 'Itis a terrible story for a mother to have to tell how she ever came to desert a child like yourself, but there are really extenuating circumstances — that is, if anything can excuse a woman so doing. Listen, child, to a very common-place story. Your grandfather was a Presbyterian minister at Plymouth, and we — that is, myself and your aunt— were brought up after the fashion of girls in a very serious family. There were only us two, and Augusta cheerfully conformed with the views of our parents. It may have been the romantic name which my mother, with ' The Last Days of Pompeii ' still seething in her mind, insisted upon bestowing on me ; but from the very first I rebelled against the solemnity of our home. While your grandmother lived it was somewhat mitigated, but after her death your grandfather and my sister, who was some five years my senior, seemed to think even laughter a crime. Novelreading, theatre-going, and all the innocent amusements that a girl most delights iv, were in my case sternly repressed. Can you wonder that I fell into a state of chronic and sullen revolt against the gloomy existence I was condemned to lead ? As long as my sister remained at home, despite my having no scruples about indulging in any of the forbidden pleasures whenever I could get a chauce, my opportunities were few. A woman is not easily blinded by another woman, and Augusta was noc easy to deceive ; but when she one day married the son of a prominent member of our congregation and went away to her new home in London, it became comparatively easy. The bribing of the two maids that comprised our modest household was hardly necessary ; their sympathies were entirely with me, they agreed that Miss Nydia ought to see a little more life and have a little more amusement. Novels I obtained now as many as I liked, and I m.iy say lived in the fairyland of fiction, while now and again I enjoyed the stolen delight of a visit to the theatre in company with Ruth, our parlourmaid.' ' Poor mother,' murmured Bessie. ' No one, as you know, could understand your dreary life better than I. 1 Mrs Fox borough, who was seated in a low chair, fond led the head of the girl who was crouched at her feet. 'Then, Bessie sweet, came my agony. I met there upon one occasion a very good-looking youns" man, who was excessively cial about ire t ting us a cab. It was a wot niylit. and eibs were soinowhat scat re. I soon found that hu was' the jittiH. pruii'iiy of Hie company, but not beitig wanted iv the last piece had strolled joum'l in fiont J vv;is only seventeen, Bessie, and we met and in^t uj»aiu. To a romantic fool as I was then an actor was a species of demi-god. I fell violently in what I thought was

love, and when the company left; Plymouth Nyas easily persuaded to elope with him. A little more than a year afterwards I found myself a mother and deserted, with the additional agony of discovering- that my betrayer was already a mprried man. What was Itodo ? Thanks to my soi-dktant husband I had already got a footing on the stage, bat how to carry you about with me and take care of you I know not. My salary, I need scarcely say, was scanty, while iv the matter of new parts country managers are simple merciless, and ono has to pay almost any role at forty-eight hours' notice. What with study and rehearsal I could simply take no adequate care of you. Go back to my father's house, I couldn't — I really had not the courage to undergo the humiliation that awaited me there even if he would receive me, which was not exactly certain. At last I bethought me of youv aunt. I took you there, and "bore meekly the reproaches that were showered upon me, and then Bessie I assented to the cruel terms proposed to me — That I was to give you solely over to her ; that it was her duty, if possible, to snatch a brand from the burning 1 , and her duty she would do ; but that she must make it a positive condition that I saw you but rarely, and never attempted to ?e move you from under her care even for a day. What cruel justice Augusta dealt out to me at that time I forgave her for your sake, but I can never forget it. She did her duty by you clearly according 1 to her own narrow lights, and I, God help me, did not,' Here Mrs Foxborough ceased, and in a second Bessie's arms were wound round her neck, ond the girl was seated in her lap. ' Oh, mother,' she whispered, ' what hard life you mu«t have had.' 1 No, I don't know that it was harder than is the lot of most of us, except the [ having to part with you. Soou afterwards I got a lucrative opening in the music hall line, and there I have continued ever since. It was at that time I met poor James, and we were married, but I told him about you before I became his wife. He didn't get on well on the stage; and was too proud to Hva upon me, ho we agreed to separate for a little. Fond as he was of me, and though he would have lavished money on me if I would have let him, after he began to make it, he was always strangely reticent about his business. He did well whatever it was, and bought and rebuilt the Syringa entirely for me. He called his business, Bessie, the managing of country theatrical companies. I always affected to believe it, but I very much doubt whether that was what it was really. But he's been a good and dear husband to me, child, and had nothing to say to this murder I'd stake my life, though I've a presentiment I shall nev^r see him a^rain. And now about yourself, child— do you love this bonnie wooer of yours ?' " With all my soul, mother. You can't think how kind, courteous, and considerate he is, and he must care a good deal about me or he'd never take such a penniless child as me to keep.' " Oh, darling !" replied Mrs Foxborough, as she toyed a little nervously though fondly with the girl's hair, " there are plenty of men about who would gladly take you with just the gown on your back. May you be happy, child. And now we'll go and call back the other.". I have hardly seen this tall sweetheart of yours.'