MADAM BRANDON’S STORY.
Neil Brandon knew his mother well enough to understand that she would not quietly await the issue of the adventure on the Penobscot; that she would not patiently remain in her home till another letter reached her.
When there was a doubt, she insisted upon solving it at once. But Neil was glad his mother had come; he was always glad to see her for her own sake; and he was doubly so in this instance, because his mind was terribly disturbed by the events of the last few days. Though dinner was all ready, and he was the honored guest of the occasion, he felt that the soup would poison him if he tasted it before he saw his mother. A servant showed him to her rooms, and he was promptly admitted.
“I am very glad to see you mother,” said he, as he kissed her. “I knew you would come, after what you wrote.”
“Sit down, my boy: I have a great deal to say to you,” added Madam Brandon, with her arm around his neck, as she led him to a chair.
“I can’t stay now, mother. I have just arrived with the clubs, and dinner is waiting for us. You must understand that I am a great man down here, just now,” laughed Neil. “The Ocean-Born’s officers and crew are in high feather--”
“The clubs?”
“I told you about the cruise of the clubs in my letter.”
“I know you did. Are the Bilders in the clubs?”
“Kate Bilder is; but I have hardly spoken to her since we left Belfast. I think Captain Bilder will be up here to-morrow morning.”
“Is this the way you do what I asked you, Neil?” asked Madam Brandon, nervously.
“I couldn’t help it, mother. The plans for the excursion were all made. I couldn’t back out,” pleaded Neil. “But come down to dinner with me, mother. The party will be very glad indeed to see you.”
“I have dined, my son; and I do not wish to meet your party. I do not wish your friends to know I am here.”
“But your name is on the hotel register, mother.”
“I did not know that. Go down and dine with your party, and come to me as soon as you can,” added Madam Brandon, with a very troubled expression, which her son could not understand.
“What’s the matter, mother? I will go down and get excused,” said Neil.
“No; I don’t wish you to do that,” continued Madam Brandon, smiling in order to reassure her son, rather than because there was any hope in the situation.
After considerable pressing on the part of his mother, Neil went down to the dining-room, where the party were already seated. The dinner was a remarkably good one, the toasts and speeches were remarkably funny, and Ben Lunder made a particularly remarkable nautical oration. Neil was rather sober and dignified, though he struggled to forget the burden which weighed upon his mind. He sat next to Minnie Darling, because she was president of the Dorcas Club, and he was the captain of the Ocean-Born. He tried to say pretty things to her, and perhaps he succeeded to some extent; but he failed to be half as brilliant as he wished to be; and perhaps this is the case with all modest young men. He made his usual brief and sensible speech, and was vigorously applauded. But the enigma of his own relations with the Bilders was continually intruding itself upon his thoughts.
After dinner, the party were to visit the notables of Bangor, and Neil excused himself on the plea that his mother--whose arrival was known to all the excursionists--wished to see him.
“We will excuse you for one hour, Captain Brandon,” said Minnie. “Then we shall call upon the mayor of the city. You must go with us, and your mother too.”
“I will endeavor to go,” replied Neil, as he hastened to his mother’s apartments.
“I have had hard work to get away from the party mother,” said he. “I am wanted again in an hour, and you are particularly invited to go with us.”
“Perhaps I will go,” added Madam Brandon, doubtfully. “Did you say you expected Captain Bilder here to-morrow morning, Neil?”
“I do expect him. He wishes to see you, mother,” replied the son.
“He wishes to see me!” exclaimed she, startled by the announcement. “What have you been doing, Neil?”
“What have I been doing? What have you been doing, mother?” asked Neil, trying to laugh.
“Has anything happened since you wrote me?” she inquired, much agitated.
“What’s the matter, mother? Why are you so troubled?” demanded Neil.
“Let me know the worst, Neil,” gasped she, sinking into a chair, and covering her face with her handkerchief.
“The worst? What can you mean, mother? I hope there is nothing wrong between you and the Bilders,” added the young man; and some of his half-formed fears seemed to be realized in her present conduct and appearance.
“Why does Captain Bilder wish to see me, Neil?” continued Madam Brandon, recovering her self-possession with a tremendous effort. “Tell me everything.”
“I will mother.”
He began with the history of Mr. McGusher’s mission in Belfast, and told the story as we have related it.
“Now, mother, I have seen the letter and the piece of card which this fellow brought with him to prove his claim,” added Neil. “In that letter it says that Neil Brandon stole the child from his parents on the Mississippi River.”
Madam Brandon was as pale as marble, but she maintained a tolerable degree of composure.
“On the card, when these pieces brought from three different sources were put together, was the name of Marguerite Brandon, _née_ Lardier. That was your name, mother,” pursued Neil. “More than this, the card was in your hand-writing.”
“Go on, Neil,” added his mother, when he paused to note the effect upon her of these revelations.
“I hoped you would explain this, mother.”
“I will in due time, Neil. Go on; let me hear the whole story.”
“The letter from which McGusher took the two five-hundred dollar bills, was also in your handwriting, though it was not signed. Mrs. Banford--”
“Who?” asked Madam Brandon.
“Mrs. Banford. She was Captain Bilder’s housekeeper years ago; but she married the father of this McGusher, and of course she is Mrs. McGusher now.”
“Go on, Neil.”
“Mrs. Banford opened the letter; it was directed to her. Captain Bilder is satisfied that you were in communication with this woman.”
“Then you have talked with Captain Bilder about the matter,” said Madam Brandon, with something like a gasp of despair.
“I couldn’t help it, mother. I never was so worked up about anything in all my life. I don’t like this Mrs. Banford. I think she has been playing tricks upon you and Captain Bilder. She has been trying to make it out that this step-son of hers is Captain Bilder’s son. But both of them have been arrested.”
“Arrested?” groaned Madam Brandon.
“The young fellow has been arrested, and the officer has his eye on the woman. He is a fraud, and so is she. When she found that Captain Bilder had lost all his property, she seems to have changed her tune. She didn’t care to make out a case then.”
“What do you mean, Neil?”
“Captain Bilder is a poor man to-day, and of course she couldn’t get any money out of him,” Neil explained.
“A poor man?”
“He says he is not worth a dollar in the world; and as other people say so too, I suppose there is no doubt about it. He lost all he had in speculation.”
Strange as it may seem, the countenance of Madam Brandon brightened up at this intelligence. She was evidently pleased with the information.
“Are you very sure about this, Neil?” she asked.
“I think there can be no doubt of it, mother,” replied the son. “He must leave his fine house, sell his horses and carriages, and they say he must go to sea again to earn his daily bread.”
“He was a rich man,” mused the lady.
“Then you knew him, mother?”
“I did--years ago.”
“I have heard you say that you had been a servant before you were married.”
“You will not despise me for that, my boy?”
“No, mother, far from it. I honor you because you have never pretended to be what you are not.”
“I have tried for many years to be a good woman, Neil,” added Madam Brandon, wiping a tear from her pale cheek.
“And you are a good woman, mother; there is none better in the whole world!” exclaimed Neil, with enthusiasm.
“I wish I were,” sighed she.
“I wanted to see you, mother, that you might tell me there was nothing wrong between you and this Mrs. McGusher. I know now that you were the nurse in Captain Bilder’s family and that you were with him in the Coriolanus. And my father was the mate of that ship.”
“No, he was not, Neil.”
“Then there was another Neil Brandon?” added the young man, hopefully.
“Don’t ask me now, Neil. I will tell you all very soon, said Madam Brandon, struggling with her emotions.
“I am amazed, mother. There is something terrible about this business, I fear.”
“There is, Neil,” replied his mother, impressively. “But, my boy, there is nothing terrible for you; it is only terrible for me. You will be bright and happy; you will rejoice at the change which is to come over you.”
“Why, mother, what do you mean!” said Neil, rising and kneeling on the floor before her. “You know I have loved and honored you as a son should; and never was a son more proud of his mother. Everybody that knows you blesses you for your kindness, for your goodness, for your charities!”
“Nobody knows me but God, Neil,” groaned Madam Brandon. “He knows me, and he knows what a weight I have borne upon my soul for all these years. He cannot forgive me, because I have not done my whole duty--because I have loved you, Neil, more than I have loved God and duty. No matter my boy; don’t you weep because I do. All shall be well with you, for you have done no wrong.”
“Have you, mother?”
“I have, Neil; but I will undo the wrong, so far as I can. I am overcome now, Neil. I cannot say any more. To-morrow when Captain Bilder comes, I will tell you all. You shall be happy, however it may be with me.”
“I can never be happy, if you are not, mother,” added he.
“I shall be happy in undoing the wrong I have done, and in seeing you happy, my boy. Say no more now. Where are your party going this afternoon?”
Madam Brandon suddenly cheered up; her French nature seemed to gain the ascendency, and in another moment she smiled. She had a strong will, and she used it.
“I will go with you, Neil,” she added. “Drive away the clouds, and be as gay as your friends. Do not dampen their pleasure by any gloominess.”
“You are going to be cheerful for my sake, mother?”
“I am; and you must be cheerful for your own sake.”
They went to the parlors, where Neil introduced his mother to all the party. Captain Patterdale and Dr. Darling were very polite and very attentive to her. The excursionists visited the “lions” of Bangor, and in the evening there was a hop at the hotel. Madam Brandon danced with the surgeon and the managing agent, and a great many very pretty things were said to her about her modest, noble, and gallant son. The next morning the party went up to Oldtown by train, where they passed through some of the lumber mills, and visited the Penobscot Indians. When they returned, Captain Bilder had arrived. Neil met him as he entered the parlor with his mother.
“Captain Bilder, my mother,” said the young man.
“I am very glad indeed to meet you, Mrs. Brandon,” said the ship-master, as he took the lady’s offered hand.
“Thank you, sir. I am very glad to see one whom I knew in other days,” replied Madam Brandon, with abundant suavity. “I suppose you do not recognize me.”
“I see some of your former looks, though I should not have known you if I had met you alone.”
“Now, Captain Bilder, Neil thinks there is a little business which needs to be settled, and if you please we will attend to it. I have a private parlor,” continued Madam Brandon, with no trace of the emotion which had disturbed her the day before.
They went to the private parlor, and Madam Brandon opened the subject of the conference without any delay.
“I am told that Mrs. Banford, or Mrs. McGusher, has paid you a visit, Captain Bilder,” said she.
“Yes; but as she evidently came for money, she came to the wrong man,” replied the captain.
“I learn that you have been unfortunate.”
“Lost everything!” added the ship-master, bluntly. “Neither Mrs. McGusher nor her stepson can make anything out of me.”
“Doubtless you were satisfied that the young man was not your son.”
“I was very clear on that point from the moment I first saw him. But I have good evidence that my former housekeeper has done better with you, so far as money is concerned.”
“I have paid her six thousand dollars, one thousand of which I paid twice because the letter in which I sent it was lost. You have found it, I learn.”
“Yes, it has been in my house for ten years. Perhaps you will object to inform me why you paid this woman so much money.”
“On the contrary, I shall answer every question you ask, Captain Bilder,” replied Madam Brandon, her emotions beginning to get the better of her, though she still struggled to be calm. “I paid the woman for keeping my secret.”
“What secret?” demanded the ship-master.
“The secret of your lost son.”
“Wasn’t he lost?” demanded Captain Bilder, rising from his chair in the excitement of the moment.
“Be calm, Captain Bilder. I will tell you the whole story. Ten years ago, I wrote that card, and divided it into three parts, that I might be able to do justice to you when the time came. I did not know that it would ever come, for, though I desired to purge my soul of its sin, I had not the courage to do so.”
“You married my mate--did you not?” asked Captain Bilder, impatiently.
“I did. Neil Brandon was my husband.”
“And he was my father--was he?” asked Neil.
“No, he was not,” replied Madam Brandon.
“He was your husband, and my name is Neil Brandon.”
“He was not your father.”
“Who was my father, then?” demanded Neil.
Madam Brandon rose, with her chest heaving violently, and raising her arm quickly, pointed at Captain Bilder, who still stood by his chair. She looked at Neil, as she continued to point at the ship-master in silence.
“Captain Bilder my father!” exclaimed Neil.
“He is.”
“My son?” gasped Captain Bilder.
“He is your son!” cried Madam Brandon, dropping heavily into her chair, sobbing and weeping bitterly.
“I cannot believe it,” added the ship-master.
“It is true,” sobbed Madam Brandon.
“Then you are not my mother,” said Neil, choking with emotion.
“I am not, Neil; but no son was ever dearer to a mother than you have been to me. I have lost you now!” and she wept more than before.
Captain Bilder walked up to Neil and began to scrutinize his features. The nose, the eyes, the hair, the general contour of the face, corresponded to those of the lost child. But the story was too strange to be credited.
“Then Neil Brandon robbed me of my child!” exclaimed the captain.
“He did; and I helped him do it. Curse me, if you will, for I deserve the worst you can say and do,” groaned Madam Brandon.
“How could he have done it? I searched the region for a fortnight.”
“The child was not taken from the steamer till after you left it. My husband had a room on board, on the same side we had ours. I carried the child myself into his room. I attended to it in the night and in the morning. We left the steamer at Baton Rouge; but my husband, with the child, went on it to Bayou Sara, where he landed. At this place he _bought_ a black woman to take care of the little one.”
“How could he get ashore with the child without being seen?” asked the captain.
“He told me he followed a couple of women ashore, and people thought the child belonged to one of them; at any rate, no one took any notice of him. I don’t know how he managed it all, but he made his way to some place in Texas, where he staid some months. He wrote to me, and I met him in New Orleans, where we were married. We lived there a year, my husband being superintendent of a cotton-press. Then we went to Philadelphia, where Neil owned a large piece of land, left him by his father. This piece of land made him a rich man. It brought him over half a million of dollars.”
“But why did he steal the child?”
“For revenge; because you discharged him from his position of mate, and cut off his hope of being a captain. I begged him not to do it, but I could not turn him from his purpose. He said, before he was rich, that the child would bring him fifty thousand dollars; that you would pay this sum to have it restored.”
“I would, and more,” added Captain Bilder.
“He said you had ruined his prospects, and you should pay for it. But he really loved the child, and I am sure I did. Up to the day he died, he was not willing to part with it, especially as he was rich. I think the influence of the child made a new man of him. After he was gone, I was as unwilling to part with it, as he had been. I loved the little fellow as my own. We lived in a fine house in Philadelphia, with every luxury that money could buy. We had no children of our own, and we loved Neil--as we always called him--as though the child had been our own. But I was nervous and uneasy. I was afraid, and went to Belfast to see if you were still living. I wanted to know whether you believed the child was dead. I was dressed so different, that I did not think Mrs. Banford would recognize me, and when I saw her in the garden of your house I spoke to her. She told me all about the child, that it had been lost on the river. When she had informed me in regard to all I wanted to know, she called me by name. She had recognized me. She went to the hotel with me, This was after I had sent you the letter with the piece of the card in it. The letter, the card, and my appearance in Belfast betrayed me. She fathomed the truth, because I had no faculty for deception.
“She charged me with having the child. I could not deny it. At last I confessed it. I offered her five thousand dollars to keep my secret, agreeing to pay her a thousand dollars a year. I paid her one thousand in Belfast, and sent the second payment in the letter which remained so long in your house. Then she came to me in Philadelphia. She was married, she said, to a man by the name of McGusher, from Baltimore; and she wanted the rest of the money I owed her at once, in order to buy a farm in Goshen, New York. I was not willing to pay it, but I was in her power, and she compelled me to do so. I was unwilling she should return to Belfast for the letter, fearful that it might have been opened, and my secret betrayed; so I gave her the thousand dollars she had lost. In order to prevent her from taking advantage of me, I told her about the plan I had for restoring the boy to his father. I allowed her to look at the piece of card I had retained. I could not find it after she had gone, and I have no doubt now that she stole it. I was afraid of her, and expected to be obliged to pay her at least a thousand dollars a year as long as she lived. I have told you the whole story, Captain Bilder.”
“Hasn’t Mrs. McGusher tried to get more money out of you?” asked the ship-master.
“No, sir; but this step-son was to get a fortune out of you; and this kept her quiet.”
“Perhaps it is lucky that I am a beggar,” said the captain, with a languid smile, as he glanced at his son, “Oscar! my Ocean-Born!”
“I know my mother speaks only the truth,” added Neil.
“I have spoken it to my own sacrifice,” replied Madam Brandon, wiping the tears from her eyes. “I have lost the best of boys.”
“Whatever I am, whoever I am, I shall never forget you!” exclaimed Neil, warmly, as he grasped both of her hands. “No mother could have done more for me than you have.”
“He has been brought up in luxury, but I have given him a good education.”
“In luxury!” added Captain Bilder. “Then it will be all the harder for him to step into a poor man’s house, such as mine must be.”
“No, sir! If I should die to-day, he would be worth half a million. My husband left all his wealth to me; people wondered at it, for they did not know why he did so. Captain Bilder, I wish to atone for my own and my husband’s sin, so far as I can do so. We have grievously wronged you, and I know that money cannot compensate for the loss of the affections of such a son as my boy. Yesterday I decided what I should do. One half of my fortune shall be yours at once; the other half shall go to Neil when I need it no longer. Nay, you must accept my gift. I have been almost happy since I decided to do this. It must be done.”
“One half of your fortune, Madam Brandon, is more than I ever had,” said the ship-master.
“No matter, sir; it would grieve me if you refused to take it.”
He did not refuse then.
“You are a noble fellow, Oscar; and I am proud of such a son,” said the captain, grasping the hand of the “long-lost.”
“You may well be proud of him,” added Madam Brandon. “I cannot have him torn entirely from me.”
She pressed him to her heart, and sobbed.
“He shall not be torn from you; you must live in Belfast now, and both of us shall see him every day. May I send for Kate? I wish to introduce her to her brother.”
Kate was sent for; the whole story was told over again, and she was as proud of her brother as her father was of his son. The astounding news was told through the excursion party, and Oscar and Kate were congratulated by “all hands.” The next day, the clubs sailed for home, Madam Brandon and Captain Bilder taking passage in the Ocean-Born. They spent a day at Fort Point on the return, and this time Madam Brandon was the host. She was almost as gay as a young girl, and the only objection Captain Bilder had to her was, that she spelled “living” with an e in it.
On their arrival at Belfast, the captain was too happy to trouble Mrs. McGusher and her step-son any further. They returned to Goshen, to the farm bought with the “hush-money” paid by Madam Brandon. Probably Mr. McGusher still figures in the “mawcantile” business.
The clubs spent three weeks more in the bay, making several long excursions. Mrs. Brandon was the guest of Captain Bilder, who had fully forgiven the living and the dead for the terrible wrong done to him. By the middle of August, the Ocean-Born started on her return to Philadelphia. Madam Brandon, Captain Bilder, and Kate were passengers. One of the first things which the lady did when they arrived at her elegant residence, was to divide her stocks, bonds, and treasury notes into two equal parts, one of which she passed to Captain Bilder. After a great deal of reflection, he had concluded to accept the gift. Perhaps he felt that it was but a meagre compensation for what he had suffered at the hands of him who had died, leaving this fortune behind him.
Madam Brandon returned to Belfast with Captain Bilder and his children. She could not think of being separated from Oscar, as she now called him. She leased her house and furniture, and for the present was to reside with the ship-master, though she talked of purchasing a house in her new location. But it is a fact that she did not do so; and it is also a fact that she became Mrs. Bilder in about a year after the events we have narrated, so that Oscar was again permitted to call her mother. Kate did not object, and was almost as fond of her new mother as her brother was.
The only thing that seriously troubled Captain Oscar Blake Bilder, as his name was registered on the books of the Belfast Yacht Club, was the loss of the Ocean-Born, and she was the subject of a long correspondence between him and the joint owners of her with him. It resulted in the purchase of the three-fourths owned by Berry Owen and the Roaches, by Oscar. The business was completed about the middle of September, and in commemoration of the former happy cruise, the same officers and crew took her to Belfast, returning by rail and steamer.
Now, our story is told, when we have said that the Bilder family were “gushingly” happy; that Ben Lunder often goes to Belfast, and Kate blushes so when he comes, that Oscar is in danger of having a brother-in-law in the “Old Salt,” one of these days; that Oscar spends a great many evenings at the house of Dr. Darling, and that Minnie even allows him to interpolate that hitherto forbidden comma, when he speaks her full name; and that often, in summer, our friends of the story, take a long cruise in the OCEAN-BORN.
TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES
Typographical errors and missing/extraneous punctuation corrected.
Inconsistencies in hyphenation have been left unchanged.