by Mayne Reid
concerning the man, I feared that such acommunication might be dangerous to her mind.
From Martha I learnt what was indeed already known to me: that ourmother had been all along willing and ready to sacrifice not only herown happiness, but that of her children, for the sake of this vilecaitiff. My sister told me, that when they reached Liverpool, and foundthat Mr Leary had gone to Sydney, my mother determined to follow himimmediately; and that William had been left behind in Liverpool, becauseshe thought that coming without him she would be better received by thewretch whom she called her husband.
On reaching Sydney, they had found Mr Leary passing under the name ofMathews. He was at first disposed to have nothing to do with his Dublinwife; but having come to the knowledge that she was in possession ofabout fifteen pounds of the money received for her lease, he changed hismind; and lived with her, until he had spent every penny of it in drinkand dissipation.
"Until he sailed for California," said Martha, "he used to come everyday, and stay awhile with mother--whenever he thought that he couldobtain a shilling by doing so; and then we saw him no more. Ah,Rowland! I have had much suffering since we were together. Many dayshave I gone without eating a morsel--in order that money might be savedfor Mr Leary. Oh! I hope we shall never see him again!"
"You never will see him again," said I; "he is gone, where our poormother will be troubled with him no more: he is dead."
Martha was an impulsive creature; and in her excitement at hearing thenews, exclaimed--
"Thank God for it! No! no!" she continued, as if repenting what she hadsaid, "I don't mean that; but if he is dead, it will be well for mother;he will never trouble her again."
I made known to my sister all the particulars of Leary's death. Sheagreed with me in the idea I had already entertained: that theintelligence could not with safety be communicated to our mother.
"I don't believe," said Martha, "that any woman in this world ever loveda man so much as mother does Mr Leary. I am sure, Rowland, it wouldkill her, to hear what you have just told me."
"But we must bring her to know it in some way," said I; "She must betold of his death: for I can see that she will not consent to leaveSydney, so long as she believes him to be alive. We cannot return toEngland, and leave her here; and it is evident she won't go with us,while she thinks there is the slightest chance of his coming back. Wemust tell her that he is dead, and take chance of the consequences."
My sister made no rejoinder to my proposal; and, while speaking, Ifancied that my words, instead of being welcome, were having anunpleasant effect upon her!
Judging by the expression upon her features, I did not think it was fearfor the result of any communication I might make to our mother, thoughwhat caused it, I could not guess.
Whenever I had spoken about returning to Europe, I observed that mysister did not appear at all gratified with my proposal, but thecontrary!
I could not comprehend, why she should object to an arrangement, thatwas intended for the happiness of all. There was some mystery about herbehaviour, that was soon to receive an elucidation--to me as unexpected,as it was painful.
Volume Two, Chapter XVII.
MY MOTHER MAD!
I was anxious at once to set sail for Liverpool--taking my mother andsister along with me. Of the money I had brought from San Francisco,there was still left a sufficient sum to accomplish this purpose; butshould I remain much longer in Sydney, it would not be enough. I haddetermined not to leave my relatives in the colony; and the next day along consultation took place, between myself and Martha, as to how weshould induce our mother to return to England. My idea was, to let herknow that Leary was dead--then tell her plainly of the crime he hadcommitted, as also the manner of his death. Surely, on knowing thesethings, she would no longer remain blind to his wickedness; but wouldsee the folly of her own conduct, and try to forget the past, in afuture, to be happily spent in the society of her children?
So fancied I. To my surprise, Martha seemed opposed to this plan ofaction, though without assigning any very definite reasons for opposingit.
"Why not be contented, and live here, Rowland?" said she; "Australia isa fine country; and thousands are every year coming to it from England.If we were there, we would probably wish to be back here. Then why notremain where we are?"
My sister may have thought this argument very rational, and likely toaffect me. It did; but in a different way from that intended. Perhapsmy desire to return to Lenore hindered me from appreciating the truth itcontained.
I left Martha, undetermined how to act, and a good deal dissatisfiedwith the result of our interview. It had produced within me a vaguesense of pain. I could not imagine why my sister was so unwilling toleave the colony, which she evidently was.
I was desirous to do everything in my power, to make my new-foundrelatives happy. I could not think of leaving them, once moreunprotected and in poverty; and yet I could not, even for them, resignthe only hope I had of again seeing Lenore.
I returned to the hotel, where I was staying. My thoughts were far frombeing pleasant companions; and I took up a newspaper, in hopes offinding some relief from the reflections that harassed my spirit.Almost the first paragraph that came under my eye was the following:--
Another Atrocity in California.--Murder of an English Subject.--We have just received reliable information of another outrage having been committed in California, on one of those who have been so unfortunate as to leave these shores for that land of bloodshed and crime. It appears, from the intelligence we have received, that a woman was, or was supposed to have been, murdered, at the diggings near Sonora. The American population of the place, inspired by their prejudices against English colonists from Australia, and by their love for what, to them, seems a favourite amusement--Lynch Law--seized the first man from the colonies they could find; and hung him upon the nearest tree!
We understand the unfortunate victim of this outrage is Mr Mathews--a highly respectable person from this city. We call upon the Government of the Mother Country to protect Her Majesty's subjects from these constantly recurring outrages of lawless American mobs. Let it demand of the United States Government, that the perpetrators of this crime shall be brought to punishment. That so many of Her Majesty's loyal subjects have been murdered, by blind infuriated mobs of Yankees, is enough to make any true Englishman blush with shame for the Government that permits it.
There is one circumstance connected with the above outrage, which illustrates American character; and which every Englishman will read with disgust. When the rope was placed around the neck of the unfortunate victim, a young man stepped forward, and claimed him as his father! This same ruffian gave the word to the mob, to pull the rope that hoisted their unfortunate victim into eternity! So characteristic a piece of American wit was, of course, received by a yell of laughter from the senseless mob. Comment on this case is unnecessary.
Regarding this article as a literary curiosity, I purchased a copy ofthe paper containing it, by preserving which, I have been enabled hereto reproduce it _in extenso_.
On reading the precious statement, one thing became very plain, that mymother could not remain much longer ignorant of Mr Leary's death; and,therefore, the sooner it should be communicated to her, in some delicatemanner, the better it might be. It must be done, either by Martha ormyself and at once.
I returned forthwith to the house--in time to witness a scene of greatexcitement. My mother had just read in the Sydney paper, the articleabove quoted; and the only description I can give, of the condition intowhich it had thrown her, would be to say, that she was mad--a ravinglunatic!
Some women, on the receipt of similar news, would have fainted. Alittle cold water, or hartshorn, would have restored them toconsciousness; and their sorrows would in time have become subdued. Mymother's grief was not of this evanescent kind. Affection for MathewLeary absorbed her whole soul, which had received a mortal wound, onlearning the fate that had unexp
ectedly, but justly, befallen thewretch.
"Rowland!" she screamed out, as I entered the house! "He is dead! Heis murdered. He has been hung innocently, by a mob of wretches inCalifornia."
I resolved to do what is sometimes called "taking the bull by thehorns."
"Yes, you are right, mother," said I. "If you mean Mr Leary, he _washung innocently_; for the men who did the deed were guilty of no wrong.Mathew Leary deserved the fate that has befallen him."
My mother's intellect appeared to have been sharpened by her affliction,for she seemed to remember every word of the article she had read.
"Rowland!" she screamed, "you have come from California. You aided inmurdering him. Ha! It was you who insulted him in the hour of death,by calling him father. O God! it was you."
The idea of my insulting Mathew Leary, by calling him father, seemed tome the
