View source for Nothing but Money! CHAPTER 9.

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<p>There had been a second change in the <em>external </em>of Guyton's life in the world, up to the period of which we are now writing. He accumulated steadily, and pride as a merchant demanded that he should live in better style. He felt himself becoming of more importance every day — it was purse-proud importance, the lowest kind of basis on which to build self-estimation — and it was needful, therefore, to <em>assume an exterior</em>, in some degree suited to his mercantile status. Rising men, whom he now met in the walks of trade, talked of houses, furniture, carriages, and country-homes, in a way that dwarfed his modest house into baseness.<br><br>
A change followed. From the retired part of the city, in which he had lived for seven years, he moved to a more fashionable quarter, and took a house at seven hundred dollars a year, expending over two thousand in refurnishing. It went something against the grain, this outlay of money and increased expenses — but <em>pride </em>was the <em>goad </em>that pricked him onward.<br><br>
Let us take some three years subsequent to this change, a closer view of Adam Guyton's home. Let us open the door of his fine residence, and go in and sit down with him, amid his wife and children.<br><br>
It is evening. Through the whole day, Mr. Guyton's thoughts had flowed in the one direction of <em>business</em>; and so eager had been the purpose which made these thoughts active, that, in more than a single instance, they struck with disturbing force against hindrances or impossibilities. This was no unusual thing, for the purposes and thoughts of our <em>grasping merchant </em>were always in advance of the orderly results of business.<br><br>
Adam Guyton came home in a dissatisfied state of mind, consequent on several causes. There had been a decline in the sugar market; two or three large cargoes having arrived at New York, prices had receded a quarter of a cent. Their firm held a thousand barrels, in anticipation of a rise. Of course he was disturbed. The difference of a quarter of a cent a pound on a thousand barrels, was a serious matter; but, what if there should be a further and heavier decline!<br><br>
Another cause of disturbance was the failure of a merchant in Virginia, who was indebted to them over three thousand dollars. No information had been received as to the character of this failure; but the worst is usually feared in all such cases. Mr. Guyton feared the worst.<br><br>
Then a good customer, to whom they had been selling for years, had gone over to a <em>rival </em>business, which had offered eight, instead of the usual six months' credit.<br><br>
But we will enumerate no farther. To a man whose ruling passion was the <em>love of money</em>, and who thought and worked only to that end — these were enough to make bitter the<em>wine of life </em>for that day. And so Adam Guyton came home at its close, with knit brows, shut lips, and a feeling of angry impatience in his heart, toward everything which came in his way.<br><br>
A pale, unhappy looking woman, sitting amidst a group of noisy children, lifted her eyes, half timidly, half hopefully — as if dreaming of a smile that once came with the music of familiar steps — to the face of Adam Guyton as he entered. His knit brows and tightly shut lips, threw their shadow instantly over her countenance. The <em>feeble light</em>, which had flickered there for a moment, went out. There was no cry of joy among the children as their father entered — but a sudden suppression of voices. He did not speak — but moved to a large easy chair, and sitting down, dropped his chin upon his bosom, and let his thoughts go back to his <em>gold </em>and his <em>merchandise</em>. In a little while, the children's hushed tones came out again, and filled the ears of their father with a disturbing clamor.<br><br>
<em>"Silence!" </em>The word came in deep, commanding utterance.<br><br>
Stillness reigned for several moments. Then low whisperings began, increasing to a murmur, that soon rose to wild discord again. Loudest among the mingling voices, were those of<em>Henry</em>, the oldest boy, and <em>Lydia</em>, the oldest of the two girls. Henry was a favorite with his father, because, of all the children, he showed <em>hopeful qualities</em>. Thrift was foreshadowed in his regard for money. Toward Lydia, on the contrary, he always seemed to bear ill-will. Nothing that the child could do, appeared to meet his approbation. Scarcely an evening passed, that she was not ordered to leave his presence, and, unless she conducted herself with signal circumspection, the same thing occurred at almost every meal. This <em>discrimination against Lydia </em>was regarded by Mrs. Guyton as unjust, and she often had sharp words with her husband in consequence, and not infrequently in presence of the children. On this occasion, as the voices of Henry and Lydia rose, in contention, the father said, peremptorily —<br><br>
<em>"Lydia! Go out of the room!"</em><br><br>
<em>"And Henry, do you go also!"</em> spoke out the mother.<br><br>
Henry looked toward his father, and hesitated; Lydia moved back a few paces, and then stood still, looking at her mother.<br><br>
"Did you hear me?" The heavy jar of Mr. Guyton's foot gave emphasis to his word. Lydia startled, and receded towards the door.<br><br>
"Henry! Didn't I tell you to leave the room?"<br><br>
Mrs. Guyton spoke sharply. The boy not moving, still looked at his father, and seeing no command in his eyes, remained firm.<br><br>
"Go, this instant!" The stamp of Mrs. Guyton's small foot was added to her voice.<br><br>
"Why do you send him out?" Mr. Guyton turned, frowningly, upon his wife.<br><br>
"Because he's equally in fault with Lydia."<br><br>
"No, I'm not! I didn't do anything! It's all her! She's the worst girl that ever lived!" Thus Henry, reading his father's eyes, and having the memory of past things before him, came out in his own defense.<br><br>
"She's a great deal better than you are, Henry — a great deal better!"<br><br>
Poor Mrs. Guyton's self-control and prudence were all gone. In her weakness, standing alone as she did, she was borne down by the pressure of indignant feelings. Lydia still remained near the door, awaiting the result of this diversion made in her favor. Encouraged by her mother's defense, she flung back upon Henry a <em>stinging retort</em>, which he returned, with interest added. A movement by her father, that Lydia well understood, caused a hasty retreat from this field of <em>unequal combat</em>; she passed through the door, shutting it after her, and retired to a region of greater safety.<br><br>
"It isn't <em>right </em>to make her the scape-goat of every wrong done in the house," said Mrs. Guyton, speaking indignantly, and looking with angry eyes upon her husband. He made no answer beyond a contemptuous curl of the lip, and letting his chin droop again, looked away from the present disquietude, to the more important matters of his merchandise. Henry did not leave the room,and was soon engaged in wrangling with his brother John, who, in turn, followed his sister into temporary banishment.<br><br>
The supper scene was one of usual discord. The <em>undisciplined children </em>were restless, noisy, and contentious, and their father ill-natured beyond his custom. Lydia, John, and little three-year-old Frances, were sent from the table and to bed. Henry, who deserved banishment quite as much as the rest, maintained his place, though vigorously assailed by his mother, and ordered by her to follow his brother and sister. Only his <em>father's </em>word, when his father was present, made <em>law </em>for him.<br><br>
Later in the evening, after all the children were in bed, Mrs. Guyton broke in upon her husband's silent meditations on the subject of <em>loss and gain</em>, with the sentence,<br><br>
"Have you twenty dollars in your pocket-book?"<br><br>
"No. What do you want with twenty dollars?" Mr. Guyton started from his reverie, and moved his body uneasily.<br><br>
"I have use for it," was coldly answered.<br><br>
"Didn't I give you ten dollars yesterday?" demanded Mr. Guyton.<br><br>
"Yes, but I paid the milk-man's bill."<br><br>
"How much was his bill?"<br><br>
"Six dollars."<br><br>
"Well, you had four left?"<br><br>
"I bought sundry little matters."<br><br>
"Sundry little matters! O yes! Sundries cost more than anything else. Sundries eat out the life of all prosperity. I would discharge a clerk who made an entry of <em>sundries </em>in one of my account books. <em>Sundries! </em>I hate the word!"<br><br>
"Well, Mr. Guyton," Lydia drew herself up somewhat haughtily, and spoke firmly and with covert sarcasm in her voice. "I will <em>particularize</em>. There were four yards of gingham for aprons — seventy cents; tape, sewing cotton, needles and pins — fifty cents; a pair of scissors — forty-five cents; four yards of bonnet ribbon — a dollar and a half — "<br><br>
"There, there! That will do!" broke in Mr. Guyton, impatiently. "I thought there'd be <em>ribbons</em>, or some sort of <em>finery</em>, in the case. It's money, money, all the while — a regular drain. A man might as well pour water into a sieve!"<br><br>
Mrs. Guyton looked down at the sewing on which she was engaged, and made no answer. Mr. Guyton kept on.<br><br>
"I received <em>Yardly &amp; Co.'s </em>bill today."<br><br>
"Well." Mrs. Guyton did not look up.<br><br>
"How much do you suppose it is?"<br><br>
"I've not the least idea."<br><br>
"You haven't? Upon my word! If you haven't any idea, I wonder who should? Didn't <em>you </em>buy the goods?"<br><br>
"I presume so."<br><br>
"Two hundred and twenty-two dollars and sixty-five cents, madam! A bill, as long as my arm!"<br><br>
And Mr. Guyton drew forth the bill, and displayed it before the eyes of his wife, saying, as he did so —<br><br>
<em>"Look at that!"</em><br><br>
Mrs. Guyton, after taking it from his hands, went over, item by item, slowly and thoughtfully.<br><br>
"It's correct as to the articles and prices," she said, in a quiet tone.<br><br>
"It is!"<br><br>
"Yes, sir."<br><br>
"Then I call you an <em>extravagant </em>woman, Lydia! A bill for dry goods of nearly two hundred and fifty dollars in less than six months."<br><br>
"There are <em>six children </em>and myself to clothe, Mr. Guyton; and if you will glance at the bill you will see twenty-six dollars charged for <em>linen </em>that was made up into shirts for yourself. Now, it strikes me, sir, as being a very "moderate account."<br><br>
"Moderate!" And Mr. Guyton, who had taken the bill from his wife's hand, tossed it from him in angry contempt. "It's nothing but <em>money, money, money </em>— morning, noon, and night! I can't turn — but the word <em>money </em>is flung into my ears! I dread coming home, half of my time, for as sure as I cross my own threshold, the cry of <em>money </em>is heard. The horse-leech's daughter were a companion to be — "<br><br>
"Lydia, take care!" Mrs. Guyton turned on her husband suddenly. She had been spurred into reaction so many times, that a <em>defiant spirit </em>had crept into her heart. <em>Love </em>went out long and long ago.<br><br>
The tone and look of his wife caused Mr. Guyton to pause, and hold back the words that were on the lip of utterance.<br><br>
"Take care of what?" he growled, ill-naturedly.<br><br>
"You might go too far," said his wife, with cold resolution in her voice.<br><br>
"You talk in riddles; I don't understand you; speak out in plain language when you address me!" Mr. Guyton's tones were <em>contemptuous</em>. But his wife uttered no further word. She had him at bay, and that was sufficient. To <em>contend </em>was no part of her nature, though smarting assault often roused her into temporary reaction, and there was at times, a quality in her reaction which had so threatening a look to Mr. Guyton, that he held himself back from a <em>final encounter</em>. It was so in the present case.<br><br>
Turning himself partly away from his wife, and dropping his chin again upon his bosom, Mr. Guyton went back to his <em>gold </em>and his <em>merchandise</em>. A silence of over ten minutes followed, when a servant opened the door of the room in which they were sitting. Mrs. Guyton looked up, and seeing who it was, said —<br><br>
"Very well, Jane; I'll see you in a moment."<br><br>
The girl, who was dressed to go out, retired.<br><br>
"Adam, I need ten dollars for Jane," said Mrs. Guyton.<br><br>
"Ten dollars! You don't owe the girl as much as that?"<br><br>
"Yes; and I promised her that she would have it tonight."<br><br>
Mr. Guyton drove his hand into his pocket, and taking out a purse, selected therefrom a ten dollar bill.<br><br>
"There!" he said, thrusting it toward his wife. "And I wish you'd have some regard to <em>my demands</em>. I've said, a hundred times, that I wanted the girls paid every week. Don't let this occur again!"<br><br>
"Give me a certain reasonable amount regularly, and I'll see that everything is paid as I go along," returned Mrs. Guyton.<br><br>
"What do you call a <em>reasonable </em>amount?"<br><br>
"A sum equal to our household expenses."<br><br>
"That's very <em>indefinite</em>," said Mr. Guyton.<br><br>
"You know about what it costs us in the year."<br><br>
"I know that it costs us a great deal <em>more </em>than it should."<br><br>
"Perhaps it does; but that's neither here nor there. Take our expenses for the last year, and divide the sum by fifty-two. This will give you the amount of our weekly expenses. Place that in my hands regularly, and I'll see that you are not annoyed by these <em>constant demands for money</em>."<br><br>
Mr. Guyton did not respond. The proposition had often been made before — but he had a fancy that his wife would, under this arrangement, spend with a more liberal hand, and run up heavy dry goods' bills into the bargain. He <em>loved his money </em>too well to trust it with her in any sums beyond tens or twenties; too well to let it pass from his hands without grave intimations of its value. With the instinct of his <em>avaricious </em>nature, he saw that if he set apart a certain sum weekly, and handed it to his wife, as a thing of course, she would hold on to it with less tenacity than if every renewal of her purse were attended by remonstrances, interrogatories, and <em>lectures on waste and extravagance</em>. "Women don't know the value of money," was one of his favorite self-justifications; and he acted up to this sentiment in all his dealings with his wife.<br><br>
"I need ten dollars more," said Mrs. Guyton, seeing that her husband made no response to her proposition. Her voice was firm, and just a little sharp with impatience.<br><br>
Mr. Guyton dashed his hand into his pocket again.<br><br>
"There!" An angry frown darkened his face as he handed Lydia another bank bill. "It's nothing but money, money, money!" he muttered, almost savagely, as he arose to his feet, and commenced stalking about the room. His wife retired silently.<br><br>
The <em>scene </em>we have presented is a simple illustration of the home-life of Mr. and Mrs. Guyton. <em>Love</em>, as we have said, had died out long ago, and in its place was have<em>antagonism</em>. Truly had Guyton expressed the thought and interest by which they were bounded, when he said — <em>"It's nothing but money, money, money!" </em>Beyond or above this, the wings of his spirit had not power to lift him; and fettered by his life — bound to a sordid earth-clod — Lydia could not get above the limitations of a sphere to which a bad marriage had doomed her. He was ever holding back his <em>yellow dross</em>; she, from the necessities of her position, was ever <em>grasping </em>after it. And so, the finer qualities of her nature — all her tastes — all her aspirings after higher things — all her loves and humanities — were stifled, overlaid, or extinguished! The promise of her young, sweet life, was rendered fruitless. <em>Beauty </em>had turned to <em>ashes!</em><br><br>
So we find it with Adam Guyton and his wife, after the lapse of ten years. How few of those who envied their wealth and style of living — dreamed of all the <em>hollow mockery </em>by which they were surrounded. They had <em>money</em> — but at what a <em>price!</em>
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