Keeping up Appearances CHAPTER 8.
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"Mother," said Annetta, one evening, about two weeks after the final arrangements had been made between her father's executors and creditors, "is it not time for us to think of moving from this house? A single quarter's rent will take nearly all the money you have, to say nothing of what it will cost to live."
Mrs. Laurie did not reply immediately to her daughter's question and remark — but sat, with her eyes upon the floor, as if reflecting upon her words. At length, looking up, she said, in a sad voice, "We shall have to move, certainly. But it may be as well to wait for a few weeks, and see what will turn up."
"What can occur, mother?" asked Annetta, "to justify our remaining here?"
"I don't know," replied the mother, dreamily, "but something may occur."
Just then the servant came into the room where they were sitting, and said that there was a gentleman in the parlor who wished to see Annetta. He had sent up his card.
"Mr. Lewis," said Annetta, while a light blush flitted over her countenance.
"Mr. Lewis!" ejaculated Mrs. Laurie, in a quick voice. (The servant had retired.) "Does he not know of our misfortune as well as of our affliction?"
Annetta made no reply; but changed her dress quickly, and then descended to the parlor to meet her visitor. Mr. Lewis, who had called a few times since the death of Mr. Laurie, met Annetta with a kind — but not familiar manner. He sat with her for an hour, and then retired.
On rejoining her mother, Annetta was asked many questions as to what Mr. Lewis had said, and what state of mind he appeared to be in. The answers to these questions seemed to be satisfactory to Mrs. Laurie. After musing for some time, she said —
"We must keep up appearances for a while, Annetta, that is clear."
"Appearances of what?" asked the daughter.
"Of wealth. We must support our present style as long as possible."
"What good end will it serve, mother?"
"Can you not see?"
"Not clearly."
"Do you think Mr. Lewis is aware of our present condition?"
"I cannot tell."
"What is your inference?"
"That he is not."
"Exactly my own. It is not to be supposed that he would still visit you if he were apprised that all our property had been swept away. Of this I am perfectly satisfied. One hope, then, remains for us, and only one; the hope that we may be able to conceal the change from him, until he offers himself, and you are married."
Annetta shook her head, and replied —
"That, I fear, will prove both to you and me a vain hope."
"I trust not," said Mrs. Laurie. "At any rate, it is plain, that it is our duty to conceal all, as far as we can, and wait the result."
"But how long can we wait, mother?"
"That is hard to tell. We shall have sixty pounds rent to pay in a little over two months, by which time all our money will be gone. But then, three months will elapse before another quarter's rent is due, which will be five months from this, and that ought to be long enough to bring matters to a close between you, if it can be done at all."
"How are we to live during the last three months of the time?" asked Annetta. "We must, in order to make our expenses as light as possible, take the girls from school, give up their music teacher, let the driver go, and keep only one cook and housemaid."
To all this Annetta opposed no serious objection. A marriage with Mr. Lewis was, of all things, the most desirable consummation to which she could look, and if it could be brought about by the means proposed, she saw no objection to their being tried. But she suggested that her sisters had better be kept at school, for the reason that if they were taken away, it might by some means reach the ears of Mr. Lewis, and create a suspicion of the truth in his mind. This suggestion was approved by Mrs. Laurie. Then the policy of letting the driver go was discussed, and decided in the same manner. And it was finally agreed that the music teacher should not be dispensed with, at least for the present, as it was known that he was giving lessons to a younger sister of Mr. Lewis, to whom he might mention the fact.
All this finally settled, the work of keeping up the appearances of wealth was commenced. Annetta had frequent misgivings that all this was not right, and often asked herself what would be the effect upon the mind of Mr. Lewis after their marriage, should a marriage actually take place, on becoming apprised of the gross deception that had been passed upon him. Once or twice she spoke of this to her mother — but was silenced by her declaration that such a deception was perfectly allowable, and that she had known more than one instance where men had been deceived in their expectation of getting money with their wives, and had yet lived very happily with them.
"The great thing," she would say, "is for him to love you. If you have his affections, you need fear nothing. Seek to gain these. Make yourself as attractive in his eyes as possible, and he will, in the end, consider you a treasure worth possessing, even if without a dowry. He has enough for you both, and will not feel a loss of anticipated monetary gains by marriage as of any consequence whatever."
Still, Annetta could not help thinking that he might despise her for her duplicity; and feeling that such a sentiment would extinguish all love, if she had been left entirely to herself, it is not at all probable that she would have adopted and pursued a course similar to the one now entered upon; still, there was sufficient lack of principle in her mind to lead her to act a false part under the instigation and countenance of her mother.
A whole week elapsed from the time Mr. Lewis made the visit just alluded to, before he called again. This period seemed a very long one to Mrs. Laurie and her daughter, who had little to do but wait for him to make his appearance; and little at first to think about — but the anxiously desired result of his visits. Then another and another week went by, Mr. Lewis dropping in at shorter or longer intervals, and keeping the mind of the mother and daughter in a constant state of anxiety and suspense, in regard to his intentions. To Annetta, there was something constrained in his manner; whether this was real or only imaginary, was a question that she could not decide, although it was often a matter of debate in her mind.
Week after week went by, and month followed month, and still the visits of Mr. Lewis were continued, although the hoped-for result of those visits was as much in prospective as ever.
The landlord, in some doubt as to the prompt payment of his rent, sent in his bill at the expiration of the quarter. He was agreeably surprised when his collector returned with the money that was due.
"I don't exactly understand this," he remarked to the collector. "Mr. Laurie's estate only paid fourteen shillings in the pound, and yet his widow can afford to live in the same style that her husband maintained when he was supposed to be, and perhaps really thought himself well off in the world. How do things look about the house?"
"Everything is rich and elegant," replied the collector.
"You saw Mrs. Laurie, I suppose?"
"Yes, sir."
"How did she appear?"
"Troubled, I thought. But the recent death of her husband, and the embarrassment of his estate, may have occasioned that."
"Very true. But did she say nothing about giving up the house? This is the last quarter of the year."
"No. She merely paid the bill and took a receipt."
"Strange! I cannot comprehend what it means. I would hardly think Mr. Laurie played an unfair game with his creditors."
"He died too suddenly for that. He was in apparent good health up to the time of his death."
"Still he may have meditated a failure, and withdrawn largely from his business in anticipation. Such things are done, you know."
Thus the landlord speculated on the subject, and there were not a few others who tried — but in vain, to understand how the widow could support the style in which she lived.
At the time Mrs. Laurie paid sixty pounds to her landlord, the amount of one quarter's rent, she had but four pounds remaining in her purse, and there were still one or two other bills to settle, which would require double that sum. In this extremity, a council was held for the devising of ways and means for keeping up appearances. After stating to Annetta the exact condition of affairs, Mrs. Laurie said,
"And now, my dear, the only course left us is to sell our silverware. But how is this to be managed without its exposing us to suspicion?"
"Could not John the footman sell it for us?"
"Oh, no! It would not do to trust him with this business. Perhaps, before he got home he would meet old Mr. Lewis' footman, and tell him on what errand he had been. Oh, no, Annetta, we must do this ourselves. I'll tell you what I have thought. Suppose you go to some jeweler and silversmith, and ask him to come here and look at some old silverware that we wish to sell. How would that do?"
"I suppose it would do very well," returned Annetta, abstractedly. She was wondering at the moment if Mr. Lewis would ever make the expected offer for her hand; or if all their efforts to keep up appearances would not at last prove unavailing.
"You must be sure," said her mother, breaking in upon her reverie, "to say particularly, that it is old silverware; and it might be well to add, as if incidentally and indifferently, that having just purchased a large and costly service, this was now altogether superfluous, and in the way."
On this errand, under instructions from her mother, Annetta set forth. She reached the shops by the way of Grand Street, and from that point went higher up into the Bowery. She passed several jewelry shops before she ventured into one. A large show of silver cake baskets, salvers, etc, decided her to make choice of the one she did. On entering she found the only worker to be a very short, round-backed, wrinkled and freckled faced man, who looked as if he had seen at least fifty or sixty winters, although they had not been cold enough to extinguish the bright sparkle of his small, dark eye. His whole countenance was Jewish. He came quickly forward as Annetta entered, and asked her what she would have. With a slight air of embarrassment, and some hesitation, she said —
"Do you buy old silver?"
"Oh yes, ma'am!" was the quick reply, the Jew bowing lower and smiling more blandly. "Have you any to sell?"
"Yes, sir."
"How much?" was inquired.
"A number of old pieces of silverware that we wish to get out of our way."
"Ah, indeed!" The Jew's internal satisfaction at this information took the smile from his face. "How much do you think them worth?"
"I don't know exactly. Sixty or eighty pounds, I suppose. We have just bought a large and elegant service, and wish to get this old stuff out of our way."
The very manner in which Annetta uttered this, as well as the expression of her face and the unsteadiness of her eye, satisfied the Jew, who marked every word, tone, and look accurately — that she was not speaking the truth.
"Sixty or eighty pounds!" he said, "So much?"
"Yes, sir. But, perhaps you do not wish to make so large a purchase." And the eye of Annetta wandered around the shop.
"It matters not; the amount is of no consequence to me," was replied. "Where can I see this old silverware?"
"At my mother's house."
"What number?"
Annetta gave the required directions, and the man promised to call within an hour. Not long after she had arrived at home, he came, accompanied with another man who carried a large basket. On a table he found displayed an entire tea service of massive silverware, including two large salvers, of exquisitely workmanship, and almost as good as new; the whole of which had been purchased ten years previously, at a cost of one hundred pounds. This was the "old stuff" that Annetta told him they wish to get out of their way. The Jew smiled inwardly as his eyes ran over the various articles in the service, and marked their style and condition, and felt a pleasant assurance that he would be able to effect an operation such as, if made every day, would cause his head to rest at night, most peacefully upon its pillow.
"How much do you expect to receive for this?" he asked, by way of ascertaining, as nearly as possible, how far his customers understood the value of what they had to sell, as well as the method by which an accurate valuation was to be had.
"Whatever it is worth," replied Mrs. Laurie, "it cost originally one hundred pounds — "
"But it is old and out of fashion now, and only fit to melt up," said the Jew.
To this, the mother and daughter had nothing to object, for it was precisely what Annetta had herself said when she called upon the silversmith, although the tasteful pattern and elegant workmanship of the whole set contradicted the assertion.
"I suppose it is worth, as old silver, nearly eighty pounds," said Mrs. Laurie.
"Eighty!" said the Jew, with a look of astonishment. "Oh no, madame, it is not worth near as much. The workmanship, so you can see, is very elaborate, and cost more than the material. That is all thrown away, as the silverware is worn, and only fit to melt up."
"But could it not be sold as it is? the pattern is very beautiful," said Mrs. Laurie, whose anxiety about the money to be received had caused her to forget the necessity of keeping up appearances. She was called back to self-possession, and affected indifference by the remark from Annetta, carefully made, that it was old-fashioned now and could not be expected to sell.
"No, of course not," she said; "I had forgotten that. No one who is able to purchase so costly a set as this, would have one except of the very latest patterns."
"That's just it," chimed in the Jew, blandly. "We never can sell a piece of costly silverware, if the style is not perfectly new."
"How much do you think it will bring?" Mrs. Laurie now asked.
"Indeed, I cannot tell, madam, until I have weighed it accurately. But you may depend upon my accounting for its full value to an ounce. I purchase large quantities of old silver, and am known as a fair dealer in the business. It was only last week that I bought a gentleman's refuse silverware for which I paid him one hundred and twenty pounds."
"Ah! so much?"
"Yes. It was the old silverware of a rich merchant of town who has just built himself a splendid palace, and is furnishing it in the most costly manner. Some of his silverware had only been purchased about five years, and was magnificent."
"That of course you did not melt up," said Mrs. Laurie.
"O yes, madam! It all went into the crucible. I paid him just the price of old silver. It was worth no more to me. These costly pieces of silverware can never be re-sold at second hand. No one able to purchase them, will have anything but what is new."
All this Mrs. Laurie and her daughter were simple enough to believe, and also simple enough to let the cunning silversmith take away their silverware to be accounted for at his own valuation. It was arranged that Annetta should call in a couple of days and receive the amount to be paid. This time passed in anxious suspense. After the Jew had been allowed to take away the silverware, both Annetta and her mother began to have misgivings that he would not deal fairly with them. They could both recall a sinister expression in his face, which they did not remark upon when he was present; and upon reflection, the falsehood of what he had so boldly alleged about the impossibility of selling a handsome piece of silverware, because it was second-hand, was clearly apparent to their minds. They forgot that they had themselves made this suggestion.
At the time appointed, Annetta went to the shop of the Jew. She found him very pleasant and affable.
"Have you ascertained the worth of our silver?" asked Annetta.
"Yes, ma'am," replied the Jew, smiling; and he turned to a book in which the value appeared to have been entered. After poring over this for a little while, he said —
"It is worth twenty-three pounds, fourteen shillings, and eightpence, to a fraction."
"Is that all?" asked Annetta, in a thick voice.
"Yes, ma'am. I weighed it myself, and with great accuracy. The value is precisely what I have said. I supposed that it would have been greater — but the largest piece I found, on breaking it up, to be merely plated, not solid silver."
"Have you, then, broken it all up?" said Annetta.
"O yes, ma'am. It is all melted down. Here is a mass of the silver," and the Jew took a bar of the precious metal from the drawer, and exhibited it to Annetta.
The disappointed girl felt that she was completely in the silversmith's power, and that all parley with him would be useless. She therefore asked him to pay her what was due, which the man did readily, being careful, however, to take her receipt in full for the money. Placing the amount in her purse, Annetta retired with a heavy heart.
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