The Old Man's Bride CHAPTER 26.
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The day had nearly closed, and Mrs. Bullfinch was alone, brooding over the dark prospect which opened to view in the future, and striving to find strength for what was before her, in considerations of duty, when she was informed that two gentlemen had called and wished to see her. Their names were sent up, and she remembered them as merchants and friends of her husband. After a few hurried changes in her dress, and a strong effort to compose her exterior — she descended to the parlors. She was met by the two gentlemen — both of whom were struck with her womanly dignity and repose of manner — with a deferential courtesy, that, under the circumstances, was grateful to her feelings.
"Our visit, Mrs. Bullfinch," said one of them, "is painful, and yet pleasant. In your husband's misfortunes we sympathize, and we sympathize with you in particular, as being necessarily a sharer in any evil that affects him. Of the extent of his losses, you are, of course, aware."
Mrs. Bullfinch bowed.
"You know that his estate will not pay the claims against it?"
She bowed again.
"Creditors," he resumed, "are never over considerate of debtors. The first impression of a loss sours the feelings and creates hardness. Therefore, in dealing summarily with adebtor, they are apt to be uninfluenced by any considerations of humanity. But I am pleased to say that, in the present case, some better feelings have prevailed. Your husband's creditors, called back to right considerations, by one of their number, have instructed us to present you, as your own property, one of the houses included in his estate. This pleasant duty, we have now called to perform — here are the title deeds duly authenticated."
And he handed the papers to Mrs. Bullfinch, who took them in silence. She was too much affected to reply.
"And we are further instructed to say, that all your household furniture, belongings, jewelry, etc., are likewise presented to you."
"Say to them in return," replied Mrs. Bullfinch, as soon as she could command her voice, "that one who has a second time in life felt the iron hand of misfortune — thanks them with a grateful heart."
She spoke with feeling, and yet with a degree of self-possession, and evidence of fortitude, that filled them with admiration. As they arose to depart, one of them said —
"A creditor of your husband's was alluded to as having instigated the others to this act. I don't know why I should mention his name; but it seems as if he should get the credit of his generous impulse. I am not aware that you ever met him personally; or that he is a particular friend of Mr. Bullfinch. His name is Wellford — one of the firm of Lane, Latta & Co."
The sudden flush that came into the face of Helen, was not unmarked by her visitors. But its meaning, they did not comprehend.
From their elegant home, the broken merchant and his family in due time retired. The small house, remote from their old place of abode, which the generous consideration of the creditors of Mr. Bullfinch had reserved for his wife, received them, and there they began their new life; rather be it said — there Helen began her new life. As for Mr. Bullfinch, he lived little more than the life of a beast; and Mrs. Lee, the mother of Helen, when reverse of fortune came, found good reasons for deserting her daughter and seeking another home, in a distant city, with a wealthy relative.
A year sufficed to exhaust nearly all the resources of Mr. and Mrs. Bullfinch. Surplus furniture and silverware had been sold, and on the money this yielded, they had lived. No employment had been sought by Mr. Bullfinch; and, for a portion of nearly every day during the year, he was unfit for intelligent duty.
At last, articles of necessity had to be parted with in order to procure the daily supply of food and drink — the drink costing, usually, more than the food. And so it went on, untilextremity came. Before this was reached, Mrs. Bullfinch had anxiously debated the question of personal effort on her part for the support of herself and husband. She had the same ability to earn money, as before her marriage; but, pride and womanly delicacy both took alarm the moment the thought came into her mind, and both argued strongly against the suggestion. But, necessity toys not with inclination. Sternly she bends all to her will.
"Let me have a dollar," said Mr. Bullfinch, one morning, to his wife, as he was preparing, soon after breakfast, to go out.
Helen opened her purse, with a kind of half involuntary movement — showed him the inside, and answered, gloomily —
"I have nothing."
"Nothing!" He looked surprised.
"Not a single cent," was answered.
"I gave you twenty dollars of the money for which the clock, sofa and ottoman sold."
"I know; but half of it was owed at the store; and the remainder has been expended to keep the table."
"What are we to do?" said the old man as he took off his hat, laid aside his cane, and sat down with an air of despondency.
"I do not know," Helen sighed as she spoke.
"We can't starve," said Mr. Bullfinch, fretfully.
Helen did not answer.
"I've tried hard to get into some employment," continued the old man, still in a fretful voice. "But it's all been of no use. Oh, dear! What is to become of us? We must live."
Still his wife remained silent. She knew the thought was in his mind; and momentarily expected what came next —
"The fact is, Helen," said he, firmly and positively, "we shall have to sell this house. It will bring three thousand dollars. It's no use to keep it, if we must starve."
Mrs. Bullfinch shook her head.
"What are we to do? Have you any money with which to buy bread?"
"Not now." It was plain from her manner, as well as from the altered tone of her voice, that her mind had come to a sudden conclusion. "But I will get what we need, at least for the present."
"Where?" inquired her husband.
"I can't answer your question now. Enough, that I will procure money for the supply of immediate needs. As to parting with our home, there must he greater extremity than now exists before I consent to the sale. While we have that in possession, there is a place where we can, at least, hide ourselves from the world."
"And starve," said the old man, impatiently.
"I will take care that we do not starve."
"You? Where are your resources? Have you money hidden away? I thought you said, just now, that you had not a penny."
"Nor have I. But I will, as I said, procure enough to supply present needs."
As to how and where she expected to get money, Mrs. Bullfinch would give her husband no satisfaction. Soon after, the old man went out, and took his way to the business quarters of the city. He had tasted no stimulating drink since the night before, and was now burning with an intense desire for a glass of brandy. But he had no money with which to procure the wished for indulgence. All at once a suggestion came to his mind. At first he pushed it aside with a feeling of shame. It returned, and was now dwelt upon. The expedient proposed was simple and almost certain of success; yet the old manliness and independence of feeling fought against its adoption. But, resistance grew feebler and feebler, as thirst for alcohol became stronger. At last appetite gained the advantage. Then, with a quickened pace, he moved forward, and kept on until he reached Front Street, near Chestnut. There were few merchants in that neighborhood with whom he was not well acquainted. Into one of these stores he entered.
"How are you, Mr. Bullfinch?" The salutation was cordial, as the person addressing him held out his hand.
"Pretty well, thank you," said the old man, in no very cheerful voice.
"What are you doing now? I haven't seen you in this neighborhood for months."
"Not a great deal. When men at my age are pushed aside, it is pretty much all over with them. The sooner they are out of the world — the better, perhaps, for them and the world too."
"Don't talk in that way, Mr. Bullfinch."
"How can I help it? But, I won't worry you with my grumbling. I've called to ask a small favor."
"Well, what is it? Let me hear?"
"Will you lend me five dollars?"
"Certainly," replied the merchant. And he took from his pocket book a bill and handed it to Mr. Bullfinch. The act was prompt and cheerful.
"Thank you! Thank you!" said the old man, his partly averted countenance flushing with both pleasure and shame. "You are very kind. I will return it tomorrow."
"Don't trouble yourself. It will do at any time," was kindly answered.
Mr. Bullfinch went quickly from the store. Soon after, he was sitting in a neighboring tavern with a bottle of wine before him.
As soon as her husband left the house, Mrs. Bullfinch went to her chamber, and unlocking a private drawer, took therefrom a small ebony box, richly inlaid with gold. Within, were a few articles of jewelry, and a gold watch. The intrinsic value of these was not great, but, to Mrs. Bullfinch, they had a value not estimated by common standards. The watch had belonged to her father. There was a plain gold ring in the box, a gift from Henry Wellford, which she never could find it in her heart to return, though, after her breach of faith, she no longer considered herself privileged to wear it. A cameo breast-pin, from the same source, had also been preserved; and, likewise, a pair of neat agate earrings. These were thelast lingerers in her jewel-box. All else had gone, to meet the common needs of nature.
With what a fixed, sad look, did Mrs. Bullfinch sit and gaze on these memorials! And must she part with them now? The thought was more than she could bear. Suddenly shutting the box, and restoring it to the drawer, she commenced moving about the room in a quick manner, her countenance showing earnest thought. Was there no other temporary resource but this? How earnestly was her mind searching about for a way to escape the sacrifice! After a while, she paused, and bent her head, as if debating some new thought. A light came into her face.
"That may do," was breathed audibly. She then dressed herself to go out, and, after removing from her jewel-box the ring, breast-pin, and earrings, and restoring them to the drawer, she took the elegant box and the gold watch and left the house. To the store of a well-known jeweler, in Chestnut Street, where she had, not a very long time previously, made liberal purchases, she went direct. Something in the manner of Mr. Carney, the owner of this store, had left on her a favorable impression as to his kindness of heart, and this had determined her to ask of him the particular favor she wished granted. He was engaged with some ladies, when she entered, and she, therefore, retired towards the back part of the store, to wait until he was at leisure. One of the ladies she immediately recognized as an acquaintance, with whom a few formal visits had been reciprocated. Drawing her veil closer, she avoided a recognition, had the lady been disposed to remember her. From a momentary abstraction of mind, the words, "Bridal presents," uttered by one of the ladies, drew her attention.
"Oh, do let me see them, Mr. Carney," was eagerly asked.
The jeweler took from the case, a few costly and elegant articles, and exhibited them to his customers.
"Beautiful! exquisite! charming!" and similar words of admiration reached the ears of Mrs Bullfinch.
"Who is the bride?" was next inquired.
The tones of the jeweler were low, but the name — "Miss Morgan," was distinctly heard by Mrs. Bullfinch.
"Indeed! Oh! I had heard of her intended marriage," said one of the ladies.
"I wonder how her family are pleased with the match? Not wonderfully well, I would think," gossiped the other.
"Why not? He bears an excellent character, and is connected with one of the wealthiest houses in the city."
"And yet," was replied, with a half contemptuous toss of the head, "his family is nothing. He was a poor young man of whom nobody had heard, when taken into his present business. For my part, I wonder at Sally Morgan. She has had better offers; and could, at any time, get a husband in the first social rank. But there is no accounting for tastes."
"In my opinion," said the other lady, "he is quite good enough for her, and, if I dared say it, too good. Hers is an old family, it is true, but not without its blemishes. There's some blood in it I wouldn't like to have in my veins. Her uncle, as everybody knows, made a wonderfully narrow escape. Most people don't hesitate to say, that if he had his deserts, he would be well acquainted with the walls of a state prison. But people will talk."
"Yes, people will talk; but it doesn't do to pay much attention to what they say. With me, such things usually go in at one ear and out at the other. As for Sally Morgan, if she likes him, why, I suppose it's nobody's business. She's got to live with him."
"He'll make her a good husband, without doubt," was replied.
"There's no question of that," now remarked the jeweler. "I've known Henry Wellford for some years, and know him to be a true man. As for Miss Morgan, I think she's made a wise choice."
Every word of this conversation was heard distinctly by Mrs. Bullfinch. Its effect was marked by the fact that she arose up, and, with a hand grasping tightly her veil, went quickly from the store.
"What lady was that?" inquired one of the gossiping customers, following with her eyes the retiring form of Helen. "There's something familiar in her style and manner."
"I don't know," replied Mr. Carney. "Who was it, James?" addressing a clerk.
"A lady who wished to speak with you," was answered.
"What did she want?"
"She wished to see you, personally, about something."
"You don't know her?"
"I'm not positive, sir; but I think it was Mrs. Bullfinch."
"Mrs. Bullfinch!" ejaculated both of the ladies at once. "I wonder if it was her!"
"Most probably," said Mr. Carney. "I now recognize the manner and appearance, although I did not see her face. Poor woman! Fortune has played her falsely."
"She's served right, and I'm glad of it," remarked one of the ladies. "I've no respect nor pity for a young girl who marries an old man for his money."
"It's a little strange that she did not wait until I was disengaged," said the jeweler.
"I rather think I can explain this," said the last speaker. "We mentioned the approaching marriage of Miss Morgan and Mr. Wellford. It is said that Wellford was an old lover, and that she jilted him because he was poor, and wedded old Bullfinch. It must have cut her to the very core, when she heard that he was about to marry into one of the best families in the state."
"And she is in poverty and neglect," remarked the other. "So it goes. The wheel of fortune keeps turning. No one who is at the top today — can tell how soon he will be at the bottom."
But enough of their remarks. When Mr. Bullfinch came home at dinner-time, he found his wife lying on the bed, in a state of mental and bodily prostration so alarming, that he deemed it best to send immediately for a physician. Of little use, however, were medical prescriptions. Days went by before she rallied from the state in which her husband found her, and weeks before she was able once more to get sufficient command of her feelings to enter the path of duty, and move, with a firm step, along the rugged way.
Why the intelligence of Mr. Wellford's approaching marriage should have told so disastrously on the mind of Mrs. Bullfinch, we will not attempt to inform the reader. That such an event was one, of all others, among the likeliest to occur, she must have known. If the hope, scarcely acknowledged to herself, of freedom, by the death of her husband, from her present bonds, and an ultimate union with the only being ever truly loved as woman can love — really existed in her heart, it had received a total extinguishment.
When, at length, she awoke, once more, to a partial interest in external things, and to a dim sense of duty, she found that an extremity existed which made immediate action, on her part, necessary. During the time in which her mental paralysis continued, Mr. Bullfinch had procured temporary supplies of money, by borrowing small sums from old mercantile friends, after the manner indicated in the preceding chapter. But, a failure to return the little obligations, as promised, soon exhausted that resource, and absolute lack of food made his proposal to raise a sum of money, by mortgage on their house, one that Mrs. Bullfinch could not disregard. But for the news received by her at the jeweler's, or rather the effect of that news — she would have made an effort to get a few music scholars, and thus removed the necessity for selling or mortgaging their home. To do this, was still her purpose; but she had not yet sufficient strength, either of body or mind, to undertake the work, and so, after a few feeble objections, consented to the execution of a mortgage on the house for the sum of five hundred dollars. Her husband proposed a thousand, and, for some time, contended for that amount. But, in this, Mrs. Bullfinch was decided; so, finding further parley useless, the old man contented himself with the smaller amount, on receipt of which, he placed half the money in the hands of his wife, retaining the rest to pay off, as he alleged, sums borrowed during the preceding three months, to meet the cost of living. It was quite true that he had borrowed, and to the extent declared; but, as to therepayment — that was neither designed nor accomplished.
Scarcely a month elapsed, during which time Mr. Bullfinch was in a more besotted state than usual, before the whole of his share of the five hundred dollars had disappeared; and he applied to his wife for money. She had only one hundred dollars left; servant's wages, sundry little amounts due to baker, milkman, and grocer, with actual cost of living during the time, having drawn heavily upon her resources. On hesitating to comply with his wishes, he became very angry, and used such threatening and abusive language, that under the excitement of indignation and alarm, Mrs. Bullfinch took from a drawer the purse containing all the money she possessed, and tossing it to her husband, said —
"There! Take the whole of what remains. But don't expect me to keep the table any longer. If you come home at any time, and find no dinner prepared, don't ask me for a reason."
"I said," growled the old man, as he thrust the purse into his pocket, "that five hundred dollars was too small a sum. The mortgage should have been for a thousand."
Scarcely had the money passed from the hands of Mrs. Bullfinch, before she saw and repented of the hasty act, which left her without so much as a single dollar. In a little while after, her husband left the house. During the afternoon, he sent home a barrel of flour, half a dozen hams, a basket of wine, a gallon of brandy, and sundry articles of groceries. On the next morning, he went to market, and made some liberal purchases in the provision line. But, beyond this, no further account was made of the hundred dollars. How he was using the remainder, his daily condition too plainly made manifest.
Again Mrs. Bullfinch aroused herself from the state of mental inactivity into which she had fallen. Not since the day of her visit to Mr. Carney's store, had she been abroad. Whether the marriage of Mr. Wellford had taken place or not, she had never heard. It was the same to her, however, for she regarded the event as past. Once more she took her jewel-box, and the gold watch that had been her father's, and again visited the store of Mr. Carney. She found the jeweler disengaged.
He recognized her, and spoke with such real kindness of manner, that she was encouraged to utter freely her request, which was, that he would purchase of her the jewel-box at as fair a price as he could afford to pay; and, also, lend her the sum of twenty-five dollars on the gold watch, he having the privilege of selling it in order to repay himself, if she did not return the money in six mouths. To this Mr. Carney, whose feelings were touched by the great change he saw in the young and still beautiful face of Mrs. Bullfinch, consented without an instant's hesitation. For the jewel-box, he paid her twenty-five dollars.
As, with a lighter heart, Mrs. Bullfinch turned to leave the store, she found herself face to face with Henry Wellford, and his happy young bride, who were just entering the jeweler's. For a moment, the eyes of Wellford and Helen rested on each other. Heart-secrets, the volumes could not have expressed, were read by both in that instant of time. Their paths crossed not again for many years!
Other purposes were to have been accomplished by Mrs. Bullfinch on this the first occasion of her venturing abroad for many weeks; but, the sudden meeting with Wellford, and visible confirmation of his marriage, so deeply disturbed her, that she hurried home, and once more, in solitude, let the rising floods of emotion sweep over her spirit. When, in a measure, their force was spent, she gathered anew her mental energies, and proceeded to put in execution a purpose for some time entertained, which was to endeavor to procure music scholars; or, if need be, give lessons in French and Spanish. She had some pride left, but not a great deal; the little that remained, kept her from going among any of those with whom, during the prosperous days of her husband, she was brought in social contact. To whom, then, should she make known her purposes? From whom seek the aid and encouragement she needed? Towards one lady her thoughts turned, when first this expedient was thought of, and towards her they still turned.
That lady was Mrs. Barker. Helen had never met her since her unhappy union with Mr. Bullfinch; and now the thought of calling upon her produced a painful shrinking. To expose, personally, and to Mrs. Barker in particular, the utter failure of all her marriage hopes — based upon the sand as they were — was a trial from which all her womanly instincts drew back. Yet, as she revolved the subject, and considered all other resources and expedients, the trial of calling on Mrs. Barker, and soliciting her interest, seemed the least of all that were presented. And so, a few days after her visit to the jeweler's, she went to see that lady.
"Mrs. Bullfinch?" said Mrs. Barker, speaking to herself, as the servant retired, after announcing a visitor. "Mrs. Bullfinch? Can it be Helen Lee!"
She arose instantly and went down to the parlors. The countenance of the pale, slightly-formed lady who came forward to meet her, as she entered, was that of a stranger in which is seen something familiar. A hand was hesitatingly extended, which was taken by Mrs. Barker.
"You do not remember me?" said the lady.
"Why, Helen!" exclaimed Mrs. Barker. "Is it possible? Your voice is unchanged, but I would have passed you in the street a dozen times without recognition."
"I am a good deal changed, I believe," Mrs. Bullfinch replied, striving to speak calmly, yet betraying the disturbed state of her feelings.
"Your father is — "
"In a better land," was answered, in a failing voice.
A few moments of silence on both sides gave Mrs. Bullfinch time to regain her self-control. As soon as she had done so, she said,
"I have always believed, Mrs. Barker, that you felt an interest in my welfare."
"You have believed right, Helen," replied Mrs. Barker, with much kindness of manner, "and if there is anything in which I can now serve you, speak of it freely."
"You are, no doubt, aware that Mr. Bullfinch has failed in business."
"I have heard as much; but never learned any particulars."
"The loss of property was total; and with the exception of a small house, which the creditors generously presented to me, everything passed from our possession."
"How unfortunate!" was the lady's simple remark.
"The misfortune," continued Helen, "took from Mr. Bullfinch all mental energy. Since then, he has not attempted to do business. Already we have mortgaged our house, and spent the money obtained therefor. Another mortgage, or a sale of the house, will produce temporary aid; but, unless I make some effort to obtain a regular income, the end can easily be seen — hopeless destitution."
"My poor child!" said Mrs. Barker, in a voice so full of real sympathy, that Helen's constrained feelings gave way, and bursting into tears, she sobbed and wept for several minutes.
How vividly, in that brief time, came the past before the eyes of Mrs. Barker! The progress of events had left her in no ignorance of Helen's purpose on a former visit, made a few years before. How distinctly she saw her now, as she turned from her in that very room, with such a hopeless air, and almost fled from the house. A kind reception of the poor girl then, and a patient hearkening to her petition — what years of almost unimaginable suffering would it not have saved!
"And you wish me to aid you in this purpose?" said Mrs. Barker, after Helen had grown calm.
"That is the object of my present visit, Mrs. Barker."
"Speak to me freely then, and with the assurance that all in my power to do, shall be done."
"Simply, then, I wish to resume my former vocation. You know my abilities as a teacher. May I hope, through your aid, to obtain a few scholars?"
"You may, Helen. My own daughters, as you may suppose, no longer take lessons either in music or French. But, in my large circle of friends, are many, I do not doubt, who would be glad to avail of your services. I will call on two or three, during today; and tomorrow see others. On day after tomorrow, I hope to be able to make a good report. Will you call back then?"
"O yes. How kind you are! I will never forget you, Mrs. Barker. In our extremity, how rarely do we meet with a friend!"
Mrs. Bullfinch did not know how sharply these words smote upon the ears of her auditor. Never forget her! How could the memory of the one who, with scarcely an effort, might have saved her from a life of misery, ever retire a moment from conscious thought?
In a week from that time, Mrs. Bullfinch resumed her old vocation of teacher, under the efficient patronage of Mrs. Barker. It was not long before she had scholars enough to occupy all the hours she could give to instruction. How earnestly and patiently she applied herself; and how insensibly but surely, did she win her way into the regard of all with whom she became associated. Her unhappy marriage relation, while it repelled those who did not know her personally, as evidencing something wrong in her character —excited in those who did know her, a kindly sympathy.
Ah! With what different feelings from those of old experienced, did she now prosecute her daily tasks! Filial love and duty then inspired her efforts, and sweet was her daily reward. Now, she toiled to support an old, ill-natured, besotted husband — the very sight of whom was repugnant to her. Urged by a stern sense of duty, she went forth, each morning, and resumed her uncheered tasks, and nightly returned to shiver beside the domestic altar, on which an unhallowed sacrifice had long since been burned to ashes!
And thus the days, weeks, months and years moved on. Tears! Who would not shrink from turning the leaves in Helen's book of memory during this long time, and reading the record? Our hand, at least, shall not attempt the painful task.
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