Volume II. The Wife CHAPTER 17.
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Hartley returned to the store, after dinner, feeling much more as a man should feel, under circumstances of trial, than he did in the morning. The afternoon brought further news from the west. It was decisive. The firms which had suspended payment, would each make a most disastrous failure, and it was almost certain would carry two others with them, both of which were indebted to R. S. & Co.
When Hartley came home at night, his mind was again overshadowed. Anna had suffered a good deal during the afternoon, for her husband's sake. She could enter into and understand his feelings, and she therefore knew how hard a trial he had to bear in the threatened ruin of his bright hopes of worldly success. Nor was she indifferent, so far as herself was concerned. To all, prosperity and the temporal blessings it brings, is pleasant. And Mrs. Hartley could enjoy them as well as others. It was not, therefore, without an earnest struggle with herself, that she could rise, really, into that state of composure and trust in divine Providence, that she had so strongly urged upon her husband. When he came in, at the close of day, she saw that he was again depressed in spirits; and again she sought to raise his thoughts above the mere fact of present temporal losses, to a realization of the truth that all things are made, in the Divine Providence, to work together for good. In this, as before, she was successful, even though more recent news than that received in the morning, tended to confirm Hartley's worst fears.
On the day following, things looked still more gloomy. A week elapsed, and all yet remained dark and threatening. A month passed, and the firm of R. S. & Co., considered one of the most promising in the city, suspended payment, and commenced winding up its business. There was property enough to pay off all the debts, and leave something over. But, as Hartley had put in no capital, and all the profits and more than half of the capital had been lost, he went out of the concern with less than a hundred dollars in his pocket; the two senior partners remaining to close up everything. Requiring the services of someone, R. & S. offered Hartley a salary of one thousand dollars, which he gladly accepted, and from a merchant, with large expectations, fell back into his former capacity of a clerk.
It required all the young man's philosophy, aided by the hopeful, trusting spirit of his wife, to bear up with anything like fortitude. For the sake of her who was loved beyond what words could express, he grieved more deeply over this reverse, than he would have done had he stood alone in the world. She would have to bear half of the burden, and the thought of this touched him to the quick.
As soon as Anna knew that her husband had dissolved all connection with the firm in which he had been a partner, and that his income was fixed at one thousand dollars per annum, she said to him with a cheerful face and tone,
"We must look out for another house, James; the rent of this one is too high for us now."
"I don't know, Anna; I think I can still manage to pay three hundred dollars. I have partly engaged to post a set of books, which I can do by devoting a couple of hours to it every evening. If I will undertake them, it will increase my income nearly three hundred dollars. I would rather do it, than move. I can't bear the thought of that. We live so comfortably and genteelly here. It will be impossible to get a house that is respectable, for a rent low enough to make it an object to give up this one."
"So far as mere appearance is concerned, James," replied his wife, "I do not think we should consider that. What is right for us to do? That should be the question. Is it right to live up close to our income?"
"I think not," Hartley could not help replying.
"Can you, after being closely engaged all day, post books for two or three hours every evening, without affecting your health?" pursued Anna.
"I can hardly tell."
"Is it not reasonable to conclude that such incessant work would be injurious? I think so. How much better would it be to get a smaller house, farther from the center of the city, and reduce all of our expenses to the lowest scale. If divine Providence again smiles upon us, we can easily procure all we now relinquish. I am sure that I can be just as happy in a house that costs one hundred and fifty dollars, as I can be in one at five times the rent. Cannot you be?"
"I ought to be happy, anywhere, with you. But, the truth is, it wounds my pride to think of moving you to a lower condition. I would gladly place you on a throne, so to speak, if in my power."
"You cannot depress me below my true condition, nor elevate me above it," Mrs. Hartley said, half-smiling, half-serious. "There is One who sees the end from the beginning — One who governs all things with infinite wisdom — He will take care that I am ever in my right place. But I must be a co-worker with Providence, according to reason. The same is true, in regard to yourself. Let us then use the reason that has been given us, and act from its dictates, in perfect freedom from all selfishness or pride, or false views of our relations in life. If you seek my happiness, do it in this way, for in this way alone can you secure it."
Hartley could not withstand the force of truth from the lips of so eloquent a reasoner. Three weeks more elapsed. At the end of that time, a snug little house in the district of Spring Garden held the young couple. Were they less happy? No! Hartley's salary was ample, and he felt that he was still independent, and that his wife had every comfort she desired. Their house was no less tastefully arranged than the one they had left. It was only smaller. But what of that? They had room enough and to spare.
"Is it not much better to be here," Anna said, as they sat together one evening in their little parlor, before a cheerful grate, "than for me to be alone in a larger house, and you away toiling, wearily, beyond your strength, to get the means of keeping up appearances? I am sure it is."
"Yes, Anna, it is better!" Hartley replied. "We were no happier before, than we are now."
"Suppose we had rented the house in Walnut Street," Anna said, with an arch look.
"Hush!" and Hartley put his fingers on the lips of his wife, playfully. "Don't remind me of my weakness. If you had been a woman at all like Mrs. Riston — how quickly you might have ruined me!"
"And made you and myself both unhappy for life. I am not like her, James."
"No, thank God! You are like nobody but your own dear self! You are a wise and prudent woman, and a loving wife."
"I can bear to hear my praises spoken by your lips," Anna returned, leaning her head back upon the bosom of her husband, and looking up into his face with a fond, happy smile.
"It comes from the heart — be sure of that."
"And reaches the heart before the words are half-uttered," was the blushing reply.
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