The Broken Heart CHAPTER 6.
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Gradually the firm of which Mr. Morrison was a partner, enlarged its business, and showed greatly increased profits. This induced Morrison to indulge in a still more expensivestyle of living. Only in a desire for extravagance and show — did he assimilate at all to his wife in disposition. Here they met on neutral ground — here they were agreed. A large house, at a very high rent, was taken on Charles Street, and newly furnished, at great expense, and little taste. Cards of invitation were sent out to the elite — and crowded rooms of the mirthful, the thoughtless, and the fashionable, answered the summons.
"My dear Mrs. Morrison, what a paradise you have here!" said Mrs. Stanley, one of her dear friends, a lady whose husband was more prudent than to make a show beyond his means.
"Yes, we have everything our hearts can desire. Mr. Morrison never thinks anything expensive, which will add to my comfort."
Mrs. Stanley sighed, "My husband thinks too much of his business, and is always talking about prudence and caution," she remarked. "But I will bring him on by degrees. He has gotten rich lately, and has not yet lost his old fashioned habits of economy."
Now, be it known, that Mr. Stanley was keeping a retail dry goods' store, and might, probably, be worth ten thousand dollars. As an offset to this, the single item of Mrs. Stanley's dress on this evening, including jewelry, etc. — cost over one thousand dollars.
"Welcome to your new home!" said another lady acquaintance, coming up. "Why you have a palace to live in! Really, Mrs. Morrison, I must have a set of blue damask curtains just like yours. Aren't they beautiful, Mrs. Stanley?"
"The handsomest I have ever seen," replied that lady. "I have made up my mind to have a set, too."
"Were you at Mrs. Hone's party last week?" continued the first speaker.
"No," was the answer of Mrs. Morrison.
"Well, I am told that it was the grandest event this season. Quite an eclipse of anything we have seen! I wonder why we were not invited? However, I suppose Mrs. Hone begins to feel herself a grade higher than usual, since her husband has turned shipping merchant."
"Pride always has a fall," remarked Mrs. Morrison, "and her time will come one of these days."
"Of course," said the other two ladies.
"I don't care much how soon it does come," added Mrs. Stanley.
Just at that moment, Mrs. Morrison was called to the other end of the room, and the two ladies continued their conversation.
"And your turn will come, too — or I'm much mistaken!" remarked one of them, glancing towards her retreating form.
"She is getting up rather fast, Mrs. Webster," said Mrs. Stanley; "that's my opinion."
"Why, the fact is, Mrs. Stanley," replied Mrs. Webster, "her husband is only junior partner in the house of Collins & Co., and I've often heard my husband say, that they all carried more sail than ballast. The first storm will drive them under."
"Well, be that as it may," said the other; "I've had my own thoughts about her for some time. She affects an air of superiority that I can't tolerate! Her time will come one of these days. Ah! my dear Mrs. Morrison, we are not yet done admiring your beautiful establishment," said the talkative lady, as the object of her censures came up at that moment.
"Thank you, Mrs. Stanley! You are always pleased to admire my taste, and the style of my arrangements. Be sure it is to me highly gratifying. But there is Mrs. Nestle just come in; excuse me, ladies, again, I must welcome her to my new paradise, as you are pleased to call it."
"Now I am sure, Mrs. Webster," said Mrs. Stanley, "that these curtains are not half so beautiful as Mrs. Charland's. I'll have a set before long though, which will throw them both into the shade, and make Mrs. Morrison almost die with envy!"
There was but little difference as to substance and value — in the conversations passing through the richly furnished parlors of Mrs. Morrison. She had invited her dear friends to admire her new house and her new furniture — and they took their own way of doing it. Some, it is true, made it a point to make no allusion to them, but it was for the reason that they thought such allusion would be gratifying. Music, dancing and eating, made up the general enjoyment of the evening, and at a late hour the company separated, as is usual in all similar cases.
One month after this party, the house of Collins & Co. failed for a large amount, and everything was given up into the hands of a trustee, for the benefit of the creditors. All the personal property of the debtors shared the same fate — Mr. Morrison's costly furniture, and all.
And now began the downward course of Mrs. Morrison. She had passed the zenith of her fortune. In one hour, her husband was reduced to poverty. With his expensive habits, and her artificial 'needs' — the salary of one thousand dollars a year which he obtained as salesman in a dry goods store, went but a small way towards making them comfortable. All their splendor was gone, and neither of them was in any humor to make the best of the bare necessaries which the eager creditors of the firm had left them.
How lonely did she feel in her small house poorly furnished, and in a retired street. Day after day she waited and looked for a visit from her "dear Mrs. Stanley," her bosom friend; but that lady had quite forgotten her, as was shortly afterwards evident from her failing to recognize her on the street.
That was a severe blow for Mary Morrison. On this, she had not calculated. Although she had been insincere to all — she had been deceived by the professions of all, and particularly by the most heartless one of her fashionable friends.
Suddenly, about a year after this financial reverse, her anxieties were aroused by an alarming illness of her husband. He was taken with a prevailing fever, and life hung upon a feeble thread, which a breath might sever. All the passionate love she had borne him when first she allowed her young heart to invest him with perfections that, alas! existed only inimagination — returned upon her, as she stood by his bedside, and felt the painful reality that he must die. But it was of no avail now. The invisible arrow winged its unerring flight — and her husband closed his eyes forever upon this world.
And now trials came thick and fast upon her, which were to try her, as in a furnace of fire. Trials, which would either reveal the pure gold of her real character, hidden long under the exterior dross of fashionable habits — or consume the whole as vain and worthless.
After her husband had been buried out of her sight, the pressing necessity to consider well her situation and resources, diverted her mind from a vain and heart-sickening contrast of the past with the present; and kindled up a lively concern for the future. Her little girl was between two and three years old, and she had been sadly neglected. But for all that, she was a sweet-tempered child, and had been gradually winning an interest in her mother's heart, ever since her banishment from the fashionable circle in which she was at one time "a bright star." Now, when her eye rested upon the sweet, innocent, confiding face of her little one — her feelings were agitated with an affection more tender, more ardent, than she had ever felt. Her heart literally yearned over her child.
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