Chapter XII. REVELATIONS.

Star (Christchurch), Issue 5256, 11 May 1895, Page 1

Chapter XII. REVELATIONS.

It waa only natural that a silence should ensue between these two so strangely brought together. Clsude, Beated pale and anguished in hiß chair, tried to collect his thoughts, and stared wildly at hia mother. She, with her face buried in tne cushions, sobbed bitterly. After the way in which her son had Bpoken it was cruel that she should have been forced to make auch a revelation, at such a moment. He condemned, ho reproached her conduot in the past, and Bhe again tasted the full bitterness of th.9 cup which had been held to her lips twenty-five years before.

On hia part Claude did not know what to say; he hardly knew what to think. Convinced by a perusal of the papers that his mother was morally guilty of his father's death, he was overwhelmed to find that she was still alive, and capable, for all he knew, of offering a defence for her share in the tragady. After all, he had no right to judge her until he heard what ehe had to eay. Blood ia thicker than water, and ahe waa hia mother.

Now he saw tho reason why Hilliaton objected to hia calling at Hampatead : why ha advised him to let Bleeping doga lie. After so long a period it was worse than urieleas to bring mother and son together. Their thdnghts, their aims, their lives were entirely diverse, and only pain could ba cansed by such a meeting. Claude silently acknowledged the wisdom of Hilliston's judgment, but as the same time could hardly refraim from condemning him for having kept him so long in ignorance of the truth.

Mrs Bezel— as we musfcatill continue to call her — waa astonished at thia long silence, but raised her head to cast a timid glanc9 at Claude. Hia brow was gloomy, hia lip3 were firmly set, and he looked anything but overjoyed at the revelation which she had made. Guocsing his thoughta the unhappy woman made a gesture of despair, and spoke in a low voice broken by sobs.

" You, too, condemn me."

"No, mother," he replied, and Mra Bezel winced aa ahe heard him acknowledge the relationship. "I do not condemn you. I have heard one side of the question, I must now hear the other— from you."

" What moro can I tell you than what you already know," Bhe said, drying her eyes. " I must know tho reason why you let me think you dead all these yeara." "It was by my own wish, and by the advice of Mr Hilliston."

Ciaud9 bit his lip at the mention of this nam?, and cast a hasty glance round the Splendidly f uraiahad room. A frightful sua* picion had entered his mind ; but she waa bis nfyfcher, and he did not daro to give it utfcerence. Hie mother guessed hia thoughts, and spared him the pain of opeauing. With » womanly diisregard ft r the truth she promptly lied concerning the relationship which her son DUBpected to exist between his guardian and herself. "Tou need not look eo black, Claude, and think ill of me. I am unfortunate, but sot guilty, AU that you see here is mine; purchased by my own money." "Your own money," replied Claude, heaving a sigh of relief.

"Tea! Mr Hilliston, who baa been a good friend to me, saved sufficient out of my marriage settlement to enable mo to fnraish this cottage, aiid live comfortably. It is just G9 well/' added she bitterly, *',else I might have died on the streets."

" But why did you let Hilliaton bring me up to think I was an orphan." " I did not wish to shadow your life. I did not wi3U you to changa . your name. I hed to change vait+e, and retire from the world, hut that waa part of my punishment."

" Still if "

" It was impossible I tell you, Clando," interrupted his mother, impatiently. " When you grew up yoa would have asked questions, and then I; would have been forced to tell you all." "Yet in spite of your precautions I •do know all. If you took aU thia trouble to hide the truth, why reveal it to me now ? "

Mrß Bezel pointed to three books lying on an adjacent table. Claude'quite understood what she meant.

"I see," he remarked, before she could speak, "you think that the 'author cf that book knows about my father's murder."

"lam certain ho does. But what ho known, or how he knows I c?.nnot say. Btiil, ,I'pm certain of ons thing that he tells the story from hearsay." " What makes you think that ? "

"It would take too long to tell you my reasons. It is f-ufficient to state that tho fictitious case differs from the real case in several important pnr ticulars. For instance," she added, with a derisive smile, "the guilty person ia said to be Michael Dene, aad he is—-"

" Is drawn from Mr Hilliaton." "How do you know thafcP" ahe asked with a atartled air.

Claude sarugged his shoulders. "I have eyes to read and brains to comprehend," he said, quiotly ; "there is no fiptibfc in my mind th*\t the ln-wyor of the fiction ia meant for the lawyer of real life. Ocherv?i*jo I thiuk the writer draw on hia imagination. It waa noce-eary for him to end hia story by fixing on ono of the characters as a criminal; and owing to the exigencies of tbe plot as developed by himoelf, he chose Michael Dene, otherwise Mr Hilliston os the murderer."

" Eat you don't think—"

" Oh, no! I don't think Mr Hilliston is guilty. I read the trial very carefully, and moreover I do not see what motive he could have had to commit the crime."

"The motive of Michael Dene ia love for the murdered man's wife."

"In other words the author assumes that Hilliston loved you," suid Claude, coolly ; " hut I have your assurance that such is'not tbe cas*." •

" You spc«k to me like that," cried Mrs Bezel, angrily ; "to your mother." Larcher'a ' expression did not change. He turned a' trifle paler, and compressed hia lips firmly, otherwise he gave no outward sign of his emotion. Knowing so much of the case as he did, he could not look on thia woman in the light of a mother; ahe had indirectly contributed to hia father's death ; Bhe had deserted him for twenty-five years; aud now that she claimed his filial reverence, he waa unwilling to yield it to her. Perhaps he waa unjust and harsh to think this, but the natural tie between them was bo weakened by time, and ignorance, that he could find no affection in his heart to bestow on her. To him she was a stranger —nothing more.

"Let us understand each other," he Baid, coldly, " that you are my mother is no doubt true, but I ask you if you hr.ve performed your moternal duties. You obliterated yourself from my life ; you left me to be brought up by strangers, in all ways you only consulted your own desires. Can you thus expect me to yield you that filial obedience with every mother has a right to expect from her bou. If you—"

" Enough, sir," said Mra Bezel, white with anger, " say no more. I understand you only too well, and now regret that I sought this interview, which haß resulted so ill. I hoped that you would be glad to find your mother still alive; that you would cherish her in her affliction. I see I was wrong. You are as cold and bitter as was your father."

" My father ! "

" Yes. Do you think that all the -wrong was on my side. Had I nothing to forgive him ? Ah ! I see by your face that you know to what I allude. It waa your father and my husband who betrayed me for Mona Bantry." " You have no proof of that," aaid Claude, in a low voice.

"T have every proof. The girl told me with her own lips. I returned from that ball at three o'clock in the morning, and Mr Jeringham left ma at the door. I entered the house alone and proceeded to my sitting-room. Thero I found Mona and —my husb ind." '

" Ah ! He did not return from London on the night."

" Yeß. He returned, thinking I waß out of the way in order to see his mistress. In hia presence ahe confessed her guilt. X looked to him for denial, and he hung hia head. Then hardly knowing what I did, overcome with rage, I snatched the dogger which I wore as part of my coßtume,

and—"

"And killed him," shrieked Claude, epringing to hiß feet, " for heaven's sake do not confess this to me."

"Why not ? I did no wrong ! I did not kill him. I fainted before I could crosß tho room to where ho stood. When I recovered I waa alone. My husband and Mona Bantry had disappeared. Then I retired to bed arrd waa ill for days. I know no more of the case."

" la thia true," asked Claude, anxioußly,

" Why should it not be true ? Do you think I would invent a story liko tbat to asperse the memory of your father. Vilely as he treated me I loved him. I do not know who killed him, The dagger I wore disappeared with him. It was found in the garden. Hit* body in the river four miles down. But I declare to you solemnly that I am iguorant of whose hand struck tho blow. It might have been Mona, or Jeringham; or- " "Or Hilliaton!"

"You are wrong thero," replied hia mother, coolly, " or elso your judgment haa been perverted by that book. Mr Hilliston waa still at the ball when the tragedy occurred. His evidence at the trial proved that. Don't say a word against him. He haa been a good friend to you— and to mo." "I do not deny that!"

"You cannot. When I waa arrested and tried for a crime which I never committed he otood by me. When I left tho court alouo and friendless he stood by me. I decided to feign death to escape the obloquy which attaches to every suspected oriminal. He found me this- refqge and installed me here aa Mra Bezel; Be, took charge of you and brought you up,, and looked after your money and iniue. Don't you dare to speak against him." Exhausted by the fury with whioh she had spoken, the unfortuuate woman leaned back in her chair. Claude, already re-

gretting his harslinres, brought a glass of water, which ha placed to her lips. After a few minutes she' revived, and feebly waved him away; but he wca nob to be bo easily dismisssd.

"lam eorry I cpoko as I did, mother," ho said tonoerly, arranging her pillows. " Now that: I havo heard your etory, I seo that you have suffered 'greatly. It ia not my right to reproach you. No doubt you acted for tbs best;; therefore, I do not say sword against you or. Mr Hilliaton, but ask yon to forgive me." Tho teara were rolling down Mrß Bezel's cheeks aa he spoke thus, and without uttering a word, eha put her hand in his in token of t'or-ivorioss. Claude pressed hia lip to her faded cheek, and thuß reconciled—as much nswao possible nnder the circumstances— they began to talk of the case.

" What do you intend to do ? " asked Mrs Bez pi, weakly. y

" Find out who killed.my father."

"It is impossibl «— af fc** five-and-twenty years. I have told you all 1 know, and you see I cannot lielp you. Ido not know whom to a'ußpect." 'y I "You surely havfr'-oma suspicion, mother?"

".No,- I: have no suspicions. Whomsoever killed your father took 'the dagger ont of my sitting-room." " Perhaps Mona — — "

"I think not. She had no reason to kill

him."

"He had wronged her." " And me," cried Mrs Bezel, vehemently. "Do not talk »riy moro of these things, Claude I know nothing niore, I can tell you aothJnw more." ' "Th9u I muat try a - d find out John Parvei*, and., lcs'ra how he became acqnaiufced with tho aievy." '•That is why I aoat for'yon'j why Ireve^!od mysoif ;, why I told yon all I have suffered. Find John P^rver/and tell me who he i~. what ho in !" :<■

This Claude promised '.to do, and aa hia mother waa worn out by the long conversation, he shortly aifcemards took hia leave. Aa he ds,-:cor»d»)d Fitzjohn'B Avenue a thought flashed h into hia mind mto the identity of John Parvor. "I wonder ii John Psjver ia Mark Jeringhp.m?" slid C sude. The question was to ba aus*-ered on that very evening. (To be continued.)