Nothing but Money! CHAPTER 17.
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The sad revelation made by Mrs. Guyton concerning her home-life, wrought a painful impression on the mind of Mrs. Hofland, whose feelings were strongly interested for her old friend, and went out towards her in a yearning desire to give help, comfort, and strength to bear up under the heavy burdens laid upon her weak shoulders. She was in her thought nearly all the while. On the second day after her visit, Diane called on Mrs. Guyton. It so happened, that Mr. Guyton had returned home for some purpose late in the forenoon, and was leaving the house, as Diane came up the steps. Mrs. Hofland smiled, and said,
"Good morning. Mr. Guyton!"
The merchant frowned, nodded coldly, and passed her in a rude manner. It was meant as a direct insult. For an instant, Diane hesitated to ring the bell. But a thought of her unhappy friend, enabled her to throw the insult behind her as a thing of no account. She found Lydia with eyes wet from recent weeping.
"It's the old story," said Mrs. Guyton, answering her questioning looks of Mrs. Hofland, and trying to smile indifferently as she dried her tears — "The old story of strife aboutmoney." And she held up some bank bills that were crumpled in her hand. "I asked Adam, just now, for a hundred dollars; and here are fifty, just half of what I need. It is always so. If I ask for twenty, I get ten, and hard words to make up the balance. 'I am the most extravagant woman who ever lived,' he says. How did I manage when my whole income came through my needle? — ha! So he talks. Money! Heaven knows, I often wish there was none of it in the world. But, didn't you meet Adam at the door?"
"Yes; but I don't think he recognized me." "Not recognize you!" Mrs. Guyton's countenance changed a little.
"No. He passed me with a distant nod, as if I were a stranger."
The eyes of Lydia fell to the floor, and she sat musing for some time.
"How long is it since you have met him?" she inquired, looking up.
"Nearly three years."
"I don't see that you have changed in anything. But he may have forgotten you. His thought is so fixed on money and business, that it would be no matter of surprise if he forgot the face of one of his own children after an absence of six months."
"How are you?" said Diane, after a pause, seeking to get away from this unpleasant theme.
"About as usual, and that isn't much to boast of. But, I'm really glad to see you, and must ask forgiveness for so cold a welcome. I'm not always able to rally myself in a moment. I wish, sometimes, that I had no more feeling than a stock or a stone; that I didn't care for these things. But, woman's nature is weak. We cannot harden under perpetual blows— but grow more and more sensitive even to the last stroke that extinguishes life. Again, I say, forgive me. The pent up anguish of my spirit found an outlet in the direction of your sympathy, and I cannot close it again. Bear with me, Diane! I know that it pains you to hear me speak as I am speaking — but I cannot, in the fullness of my heart, keep back all utterance."
"Look away from whatever, in the present, dear Lydia, is irremediable. To bear — is to conquer. What we brood over — gains new vitality. As far as possible, veil even from your own eyes the harder aspect of your way in life — and look forward in hope, to some more pleasant future."
"The future is darker than the present, Diane. But this is all wrong, I know. It isn't kind in me. I shall lose you again, if I worry your mind after this fashion. How weak and unreasonable I have become."
Very much in this strain did Mrs. Guyton talk during the visit of Diane; and in parting, she wept bitterly, saying —
"I know you won't come here again. It's so wrong of me; but I've grown weak and childish, and can't help it."
"Come and see me often, Lydia," was the kind answer of Mrs. Hofland, as she kissed her unhappy friend. "I shall hold you always in my heart. Let me be as your sister. Talk to me without reserve, if talking gives any comfort, and what you say shall be sacred between us."
"And you will come to see me, in return?"
"Oh, yes, often."
"You are true and good, Diane, and may Heaven bless with richer blessings than even now rest upon your life," said Mrs. Guyton, as they parted at the door.
On the return of Adam Guyton, at dinner time, his first words on meeting his wife, were —
"What did that fellow's wife want here?"
"I don't understand you," answered Lydia, coldly. "Of whom are you speaking?"
"You know very well of whom I'm speaking."
But Lydia shook her head perversely.
"Wasn't that Dr. Hofland's wife I saw at the door this morning?"
"Diane called to see me; but you didn't mean her when you said that fellow's wife?"
"I meant her, and you know it. What did she want?"
"If you were curious on the subject, you should have inquired yourself," returned Mrs. Guyton, with ill-disguised contempt in her tone and manner.
"So you knew her?"
"Of course I knew her."
"And passed her without recognition?"
"I did, and mean to always!"
"Why?"
"Because I don't like her nor her principles. She's not a true woman, and I warn you to have nothing to do with her!"
"Not a true woman! Please, draw a picture of one. I would like to have your ideal above all things. Perhaps I might copy after it!"
"Oh, you can sneer! but that amounts to nothing," retorted Guyton, rather impotently. His wife's scorn grew sharper every day.
"Look here, Adam," said Lydia, speaking resolutely — "I don't trouble myself in regard to your friendships, and I beg you will not trouble yourself in regard to mine. I have been to see Diane, as I told you-and Diane has returned the visit. It shall be no fault of mine, if the restored fellowship is not perpetual."
"Very well, madam. Set yourself in defiance. But don't complain of the consequences. You wanted a hundred dollars this morning. I understand it now."
"Lydia, who had been turning away from her husband, wheeled around, under a sudden impulse, and confronting him, with flashing eyes, said —
"What do you mean, sir!"
"I presume you understand me," was replied in a cold, sneering manner.
"Where are the fifty dollars I gave you?"
Mrs. Guyton thrust her hand into her pocket, and taking therefrom the roll of bank bills received from her husband a few hours before, flung them into his face, saying —
"There they are! Take them again. If your soul is made of money, there are other souls of better material, thank God! Adam Guyton! Doctor Hofland and his wife don't want your money. They are richer than you are, or ever will be, though you live a thousand years, and double your possessions each year!"
The money struck the face of Guyton, and fell at his feet upon the floor. The act stunned him. There was a look and tone of defiance in his wife that overawed him for a little while. He did not understand the way to deal with this aspect of antagonism.
"Keep your money, if you will, sir!" added the excited and outraged woman.
"I hate the name of money. It is an offense to me. From this day, my lips shall not utter the word to you. Dole it out as you may, in miserly pittances — it will be all the same to me. There is not a woman in the city, sir, whose husband's property reaches, at the utmost, half of your possessions, whose wardrobe is not twice the value of mine. I have been ashamed to appear in company; but that feeling is gone. The discredit is yours, not mine!"
"Silence, madam! I will not hear this!"
As often before, when he felt himself borne down by his wife's indignant reaction upon outrage, Guyton stood upon authority, and commanded silence.
"It won't do, Adam Guyton," said Lydia, with a smile curling her pale lip. "You may rob me — but you cannot silence me."
"Rob! are you going crazed?"
"Yes, rob; that is the word. He who withholds what is just, is as much a robber as he who plunders by force; and meaner, because more cowardly. Do you understand me?"
"No!"
"Turn it over in your thought as often as you turn a dollar before spending it — and perhaps the meaning will be clear."
"Your precious friend has been giving you some lessons in wifely duty, I see," retorted Guyton. "A few more visits, and I'll find the door locked against me. After ruining her own husband, she has become ambitious of more extended operations. I'll send the Doctor a note, requesting him to keep his wicked cattle at home."
"Happily, the Doctor knows your quality, and will take the performance for what it is worth," said Mrs. Guyton, nothing daunted by the vulgar threat. "Men who stand at his height, read such as you at a glance. Send the note. It matters nothing to me."
Baffled by the coolness of his wife's scorn, Adam Guyton broke out again into angry command. Lydia fixed her eyes sternly upon him for some moments, holding his gaze long enough to let him understand that she defied him; then, turning from him, she left the room.
At his feet lay the crumpled bank bills, thrown by Lydia in his face a little while before. Most men, after such a scene, would have let them lie on the carpet — even if certain of their being swept into the street. But, in his eyes, money was too precious a thing to be left in any jeopardy. So, stooping to the floor, Guyton took up the bills, and thrust them into his vest pocket, muttering in an undertone —
"A good illustration of the value she sets upon money! A man might as well pour water into a sieve, as place it at the discretion of such a woman."
In spite of the insult he had received from his wife, Adam Guyton felt a secret pleasure growing out of her declaration that she would never again ask him for money. He wished in his heart that she might stand by her threat. There was no way in which she could inflict self-punishment so agreeable to her husband as this. Her demands for money, so incessantly made, and so steadily resisted, he had always regarded as excessive. This had been the bone of contention between them from the beginning. Always doling out reluctantly, and too often, in complaint of extravagance, he had kept Lydia so bare of money, that constant application became a necessity. Today, it was two or three dollars for a seamstress; tomorrow, a dollar for the washerwoman; the day after, five dollars for market money; and the day after that, a dollar and a half for sawing and putting away a cord of wood, for which the poor wood-sawyer had waited two hours. So the changes rung incessantly. It was literally true, as he often alleged — "Money! money! — nothing but money! The first thing in the morning and the last thing at night. I can't show myself without hearing the word money!"
He would not trust his wife with any large sum for disbursement. We doubt if he ever gave her so much as a hundred dollars at one time in his life. That kind of liberality would, he felt sure, encourage extravagance. He must hold the purse-strings tightly, and know for what use every dollar that left his possession was given. No wonder then, that it was"Money, money — nothing but money." His own actions, made perpetual demand the sole means of home subsistence.
Was Lydia really in earnest in what she had said? He dwelt on her declaration curiously, even hopefully. No sense of shame touched him. Avarice had long ago smotheredshame.
"We shall see!" fell from his lips, as he moved about the room, conscious relief following the words, "We shall see! Home will become a second paradise!"
The dinner bell rang, and Mr. Guyton stalked moodily into the dining room. A side-glance at his wife's face, who did not look towards him, revealed an expression of fixed resolve not often seen there. He was a little puzzled. The meal passed in almost dead silence. As for the children, they read in their parents faces, enough of warning to induce orderly conduct. Experience had made them observant; and they knew when trespass would be visited by certain banishment.
As Mr. Guyton arose at the conclusion of his hastily eaten meal, he tossed the little roll of bank bills across the table, and without a word, retired.
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