Stephen Archer, and Other Tales

  CHAPTER IV. WHAT IT MEANT.

  Some of my readers, perhaps all of them, will have concluded that Mrs.Dempster was a little out of her mind. Such, indeed, was the fact, andone not greatly to be wondered at, after such a peculiar experience asshe had had. Some small degree of congestion, and the consequentpressure on some portion of the brain, had sent certain faculties tosleep, and, perhaps, roused others into morbid activity. That it isimpossible to tell where sanity ends and insanity begins, is a triteremark indeed; but like many things which it is useless to say, it hasthe more need to be thought of. If I yield to an impulse of which Iknow I shall be ashamed, is it not the act of a madman? And may notthe act lead to a habit, and at length to a despised, perhaps fearedand hated, old age, twisting at the ragged ends of a miserable life?

  However certain it is that mental disorder had to do with Mrs.Dempster's departure from her home, it is almost as certain she wouldnever have gone had it not been for the unpaid bills haunting herconsciousness, a combination of demon and ghost. The misery had allthe time been growing upon her, and must have had no small share inthe subversion of her microcosm. When that was effected, the evilthing that lay at the root of it all rose and pounced upon her. Wrongis its own avenger. She had been doing wrong, and knowingly for years,and now the plant of evil was blossoming towards its fruit. If one saythe evil was but a trifle, I take her judgment, not his, upon that.She had been lazy towards duty, had persistently turned aside fromwhat she knew to be her business, until she dared not even look at it.And now that the crisis was at hand, as omened by that letter from thebutcher, with the sense of her wrong-doing was mingled the terror ofher husband. What would he think, say, and do? Not yet had she, afterall these years, any deep insight into his character; else perhaps shemight have read there that, much as he loved money, the pleasure ofseeing signal failure follow the neglect of his instructions wouldquite compensate him for the loss. What the bills amounted to, she hadnot an idea. Not until she had made up her mind to leave her homecould she muster the courage to get them together. Then she evencounted up the total and set down the sum in her memory--which sumthereafter haunted her like the name of her devil.

  As to the making up of her mind--she could remember very little ofthat process--or indeed of the turning of her resolve into action. Sheleft the house in the plainest dress her wardrobe could afford her,and with just one half-crown in her pocket. Her design was to seek asituation, as a refuge from her husband and his wrath. It was acurious thing, that, while it gave her no trouble to leave her baby,whom indeed she had not that day seen, and to whom for some time shehad ceased to be necessary, her only notion was to get a place asnurse.

  At that time, I presume, there were few or no such offices forengaging servants as are now common; at all events, the plan Mrs.Dempster took, when she had reached a part of London she judgedsufficiently distant for her purpose, was to go from shop to shopinquiring after a situation. But she met with no prospect of success,and at last, greatly in need of rest and refreshment, went into asmall coffee shop. The woman who kept it was taken by her appearance,her manners, and her evident trouble, and, happening to have heard ofa lady who wanted a nurse, gave her the address. She went at once, andapplied for the place. The lady was much pleased with her, and agreedto take her, provided she received a satisfactory character of her.For such a demand Mrs. Dempster was unprepared; she had never thoughtwhat reference she could give, and, her resources for deception easilyexhausted, gave, driven to extremity, the name and address of hermother. So met the extremes of loss and salvation! She returned to thecoffee shop, and the lady wrote at once to the address of the youngwoman's late mistress, as she supposed.

  The kindness of her new friend was not exhausted; she gave her a shareof her own bed that night. Mrs. Dempster had now but two shillings,which she offered her, promising to pay her the rest out of the firstwages she received. But the good woman would take no more than one ofthem, and that in full payment of what she owed her, and Mrs. Dempsterleft the shop in tears, to linger about the neighbourhood until thehour should arrive at which the lady had told her to call again.Apparently she must have cherished the hope that her mother, diviningher extremity, would give her the character she could honestly claim.But as she drew near the door which she hoped would prove a refuge,her mother was approaching it also, and at the turning of a cornerthey ran into each other's arms. The elderly lady had a hackney coachwaiting for her in the next street, and Mrs. Dempster, too tired toresist, got into it at once at her mother's desire. Ere they reachedthe mother's house, which, as I have said, was a long way from Mr.Dempster's, the daughter told everything, and the mother had perceivedmore than the daughter could tell: her eyes had revealed that all wasnot right behind them. She soothed her as none but a mother can,easily persuading her she would make everything right, and undertakingherself to pay the money owing to the butcher. But it was soon evidentthat for the present there must be no suggestion of her going back toher husband; for, imagining from something, that her mother was takingher to him, she jumped up and had all but opened the door of the cabwhen her mother succeeded in mastering her. As soon as she waspersuaded that such had never been the intention, she was quiet. Whenthey reached the house she was easily induced to go to bed at once.

  Her mother lived in a very humble way, with one servant, a trustworthywoman. To her she confided the whole story, and with her consulted asto what had better be done. Between them they resolved to keep her,for a while at least, in retirement and silence. To this conclusionthey came on the following grounds: First, the daughter's terror andthe mother's own fear of Mr. Dempster; next, it must be confessed, theresentment of both mistress and servant because of his rudeness whenhe came to inquire after her; third, the evident condition of the poorcreature's mind; and last, the longing of the two women to have her tothemselves, that they might nurse and cosset her to their hearts'content.

  They were to have more of this indulgence, however, than, for hersake, they would have desired, for before morning she was very ill.She had brain fever, in fact, and they had their hands full,especially as they desired to take every precaution to prevent theneighbourhood from knowing there was any one but themselves in thehouse.

  It was a severe attack, but she passed the crisis favourably, andbegan to recover. One morning, after a quieter night than usual, shecalled her mother, and told her she had had a strange dream--that shehad a baby somewhere, but could not find him, and was wandering aboutlooking for him.

  "Wasn't it a curious dream, mamma?" she said. "I wish it were a trueone. I knew exactly what my baby was like, and went into house afterhouse full of children, sure that I could pick him out of thousands. Iwas just going up to the door of the Foundling Hospital to look forhim there when I woke."

  As she ceased, a strange trouble passed like a cloud over her foreheadand eyes, and her hand, worn almost transparent by the fever followedit over forehead and eyes. She seemed trying to recall somethingforgotten. But her mother thought it better to say nothing.

  Each of the two nights following she had the same dream.

  "Three times, mother," she said. "I am not superstitious, as you know,but I can't help feeling as if it must mean something. I don't knowwhat to make of it else--except it be that I haven't got over thefever yet. And, indeed, I am afraid my head is not quite right, for Ican't be sure sometimes, such a hold has my dream of me, that Ihaven't got a baby somewhere about the world. Give me your hand,mother, and sing to me."

  Still her mother thought it more prudent to say nothing, and do whatshe could to divert her thoughts; for she judged it must be better tolet her brain come right, as it were, of itself.

  In the middle of the next night she woke her with a cry.

  "O, mother, mother! I know it all now. I am not out of my mind anymore. How I came here I cannot tell--but I know I have a husband and ababy at Hackney--and--oh, such a horrible roll of butcher's bills!"

  "Yes, yes, my dear! I know all about it," answered her mother. "Butnever mind
; you can pay them all yourself now, for I heard onlyyesterday that your aunt Lucy is dead, and has left you the hundredpounds she promised you twenty years ago."

  "Oh, bless her!" cried Mrs. Dempster, springing out of bed, much tothe dismay of her mother, who boded a return of the fever. "I must gohome to my baby at once. But tell me all about it, mamma. How did Icome here? I seem to remember being in a carriage with you, and thatis the last I know."

  Then, upon condition that she got into bed at once, and promised notto move until she gave her leave, her mother consented to tell her allshe knew. She listened in silence, with face flushed and eyes glowing,but drank a cooling draught, lay down again, and at daybreak was fastasleep. When she awoke she was herself again.