Keeping up Appearances CHAPTER 16.
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The unexpected incident mentioned at the close of the last chapter, completely confounded Lewis. The statement of the Jew was too unequivocal, and left no question nor doubt upon his mind. If the silverware had been sold, it was not at all improbable that the piano had also been disposed of; then the thought went thrilling through his mind, that, perhaps, the capes and collars which Annetta had sold that morning were her own workmanship, and the money received, for her own benefit. At the same instant, he remembered having seen her enter this very shop in the Bowery, a few months previously; and that when he mentioned the fact of having noticed her in that part of the city, she seemed slightly confused, and then replied that she had been making some calls in East Broadway.
Lewis returned to his place of business, with his mind very much disturbed. Amidst the disturbance, was a feeling of thankfulness that he had not yielded to the impulse which an hour before had prompted him to speak to Annetta of the warm and tender emotions with which his heart was throbbing.
"Not committed yet — thank Heaven!" was the audibly spoken thought that followed. On the evening of that day, instead of visiting Annetta, as he had expressed to her his intention to do, at parting, he called to see Mrs. Morton, for whom he entertained a high respect. He had been seated only a little while, when, assuming a very serious air, he said,
"Do you ever visit Mrs. Laurie now?"
"Sometimes. I was there yesterday."
"I would like to ask you some questions about her, Mrs. Morton, which I hope you will feel free to answer."
"I do not know much about her, or her affairs, since her husband's death," replied Mrs. Morton.
"No, nor does anybody else," said the young man. "Has it never occurred to you, as a little remarkable, that no change has taken place in her external condition since her husband's death? You are aware, no doubt, that in the settlement of his estate it was found to be bankrupt?"
"Yes, I am aware of that fact."
"How, then, can the widow live in the style she still maintains? Has that question never occurred to you?"
"Yes, often."
"How do you explain it?"
Mrs. Morton shook her head.
"Have you ever tried to explain it?" asked Lewis.
"Sometimes; but I have never been able to arrive at a satisfactory conclusion."
"Do you think it a mere effort to keep up appearances? Or do you think she has money unjustly kept back from the creditors?"
"I am more inclined to the former opinion than the latter," replied Mrs. Morton.
"For what reason?" asked the young man.
"For the reason, that both Annetta and her mother seem to look poor and anxious amid all the elegance that surrounds them. They no longer keep a driver; the girls are home from school, and have given up their music lessons; and there are other indications that I need not mention, all going to confirm this impression."
"Were you in the front chamber yesterday, when you called there?"
"Yes. Annetta and her mother always sit there."
"Was there a piano in the room?"
"No — why do you ask? "
"Annetta's splendid instrument has been removed from the parlor."
"Indeed!"
"And more than that; it was taken up into the front chamber, for I heard it there one evening; but I have never heard it since."
"It certainly is not there now."
"Then my suspicions are correct. It has been sold. A friend bought one at Barker's auction rooms, which he says his sister declares to be the same one that Annetta Laurie had."
"Is it possible?"
"And today," continued the young man, "I inquired the price of a splendid set of silverware in the window of a shop in the Bowery, and learned, during a brief conversation with the owner, that he had bought it a few months before from Mrs. Laurie. I could not doubt this, for, to his very accurate statement, I added the fact that I had seen Annetta Laurie enter this shop about the time the man said he had made the purchase."
"With such confirming evidences," said Mrs. Morton, "there can be no doubt as to all this appearance of wealth being a mere deceit. Mrs. Laurie has a great deal of false pride, I know. But what can she possibly gain by all this? I am at a loss to understand it. How much better would it have been for her to have reduced all her expenses to the lowest possible sum, and then, with the one hundred pounds paid to her so generously by her husband's creditors, and what could have been realized by the sale of superfluous articles, silverware, and furniture — she might have lived comfortably for a year or two, in which time, Annetta might, like Lucy Hartman, have found something to do that would yield them nearly a support."
"Or better, Mrs. Morton, Annetta might have obtained a husband who would have placed both herself and her mother back in the old position."
"I don't know anything about that," said Mrs. Morton. "I don't know who would have married her."
"Well, I do, then," returned the young man with warmth. "I would have done it."
"You!"
"Yes. Would have done it before this time."
"But why not do it as it is, my young friend? If you really love the daughter, the mother's conduct is no disparagement to her. Annetta is certainly a very fine girl."
"I know. But the question with me is, how far she acts with her mother and from the same principles? How far she deliberately assumes a false exterior?"
"Allowance ought certainly to be made for her," urged Mrs. Morton, "even if she had acted with her mother to some extent. She may not be in freedom to do as she would, if left to herself. I have noticed, of late, whenever I have been there, that she has been industriously engaged in executing fine needle-work. Nothing was said, nor was the work shown to me — but I saw that it was beautifully done; and I then inferred that this was a means of earning something. I was pleased to see it, for it showed a disposition on her part to depend upon the resources that were in herself. Doubtless, if she had not been influenced by her mother, she would, before this, have obtained more profitable employment, even though it was at the cost of exposing her true condition."
"What kind of needle-work was she engaged in?" asked Lewis.
"Capes and collars in imitation of French lace," returned Mrs. Morton. "I noticed when there, yesterday, several of them neatly done up and lying on the bed."
"Are you sure they were the work of Annetta?"
"Quite sure; for I took up one and after looking at it closely, complimented Annetta upon her beautiful work."
"What answer did she make?" asked Lewis.
"None. She merely looked up from the collar upon which she was at work, and smiled."
"Still, is it not possible that the collars and capes on the bed were the product of some other hands?"
"Oh, no! That is not at all likely. The one I looked at, I remembered very well to have seen her at work upon. The pattern was peculiar. Besides, on her work-table, I frequently noticed a great variety of lace patterns, and also a book of patterns."
Arthur Lewis did not make any reply — but seemed very thoughtful. After sitting silent for a few moments, Mrs. Morton said —
"From all I know of Annetta, I think you may safely act towards her as your feelings seem to dictate. It gives me great pleasure, my young friend, to see you thus looking away from the establishments of wealth and fashion, and seeking for the intrinsic excellencies which are independent of all these. The result, in a truly happy marriage, I doubt not, will show you that you have acted with a true wisdom."
"My mind is made up, Mrs. Morton," Lewis replied in a firm voice. "I shall visit Annetta Laurie no more, and try to forget that I have ever known her."
"Do not say that, Mr. Lewis! Do not come to such a hasty conclusion! What have I said to bring about such a decision?"
"What you have said about the needlework has made my course as clear as light. I will never make that woman my wife, whom I have detected in a deliberate falsehood."
"You astonish me, Mr. Lewis!"
"I am astonished myself — utterly astonished! Today, I went into the department store on Broadway, to purchase a trifle I saw in the window, for my sister. The shop happened to be crowded, and I could get no one to wait upon me immediately; and one after another coming in, I was crowded towards the back part, where I stood for some minutes. While there, I noticed a young woman near me, dressed in black. A moment after, she spoke to the owner, with whom she was bargaining for the sale of some capes and collars. I knew it was Annetta. She spoke in a sad, disappointed voice, and complained of the very small price he offered for them; stating, at the same time, that they had been made by a poor young woman who was declining very rapidly, and who was not able to leave her room. The man would give no more than his first offer, which she finally accepted. I remained standing where I was, and when she turned around she saw me. For an instant she grew pale, and then a smile passed over her face, and with the most perfect self-possession and apparent frankness — she related to me the same story she had just been telling, about a poor girl, who formerly sewed for her mother, being in the last stages of consumption; and that out of mere charity she had undertaken to sell her work for her. She added, that the department store owner had paid so poor a price that, to save the girl from disappointment, she would add something to the amount received from her own purse. 'In such a good work, let me participate,' said I — a host of generous impulses filling my heart; and I handed her a sovereign."
"Did she take it?" asked Mrs. Morton, with breathless interest.
"She did. But she turned her face away at the moment, and drew down her veil; but I noticed that her hand trembled as she took the coin. And now, Mrs. Morton," said the young man with emphasis — "put that and that together, and tell me what you make of it."
Mrs. Morton looked grave — but she made no reply.
"Do you believe the story she told me?" asked Mr. Lewis.
"It is possible that she told you the truth."
"But is it at all probable, Mrs. Morton?"
"It certainly is not, to my mind."
"Nor to mine. But I have seen enough, even if this were taken away, to satisfy me that I ought not to marry Annetta. In a thing of so much importance as marriage, I wish to have no doubt and uncertainty. If even under influence from her mother, she could affect appearances of what had no existence, thus assuming a false position for the purpose ofdeceiving others, perhaps myself — I do not think her worthy of my confidence and love. This, I am satisfied, she has done; and to this, there is evidence too well grounded, of deliberate falsehood uttered to maintain these appearances, and still further to deceive. Warm as has been my regard for her, and sincere my intentions, and painful as it is to break off the pleasant fellowship we have enjoyed so long — justice requires that it should be done. And it shall be done. I could not be so untrue to myself as to shut my eyes to the palpable evidences of her unworthiness that have been presented. Oh! that she had possessed the noble, truthful independence of your young friend Lucy. I would have taken her to my heart as a treasure!"
Arthur Lewis was deeply moved. Although, from sympathy for Annetta, Mrs. Morton felt like making an effort to restore to the young man's mind a portion of the good opinion that had been lost — yet justice told her that he was right in the resolution to which he had come, and that she ought not to say anything in order to produce a change in his mind. And she did not.
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