The Lights and Shadows of Real Life Part 39

"Hadn't we better wait for him?"

"He knows that it is tea-time, and ought to be here, if he wants any," the mother said. "You are tired and hungry, and we will not, of course, wait."

The little family, three in number, gathered around the table, but no one eat with an appet.i.te of the food that was placed before them.

There were two vacant places at the board. The husband and son--the father and brother--where were they?

In regard to the former, the presentation of a scene which occurred a few weeks previous will explain all. First, however, a brief review of the past seven years is necessary. After Mr. Graham's failure in business, he gave himself up to drink, and sunk, with his whole family, down into want and obscurity with almost unprecedented rapidity. He seemed at once to become strangely indifferent to his wife and children--to lose all regard for their welfare. In fact, he had become, in a degree, insane from the sudden reverses which had overtaken him, combined with the bewildering effects of strong drinks, under whose influence he was constantly labouring.

Thus left to struggle on against the pressure of absolute want, suddenly and unexpectedly brought upon them, and with no internal or external resources upon which to fall promptly back, Mrs. Graham and her daughters were for a time overwhelmed with despair. Alfred, to whom they should have looked for aid, advice, and sustenance, in this hour of severe trial, left almost entirely to himself, as far as his father had been concerned, for some two years, had sunk into habits of dissipation from which even this terrible shock had not the power to arouse him. Having made himself angry in his opposition to, and resistance of, all his mother's admonitions, warnings, and persuasions, he seemed to have lost all affection for her and his sisters. So that a sense of their dest.i.tute and distressed condition had no influence over him--at least, not sufficient to arouse him into active exertions for their support. Thus were they left utterly dependent upon their own resources--and what was worse, were burdened with the support of both father and brother.

The little that each had been able to save from the general wreck, was, as a means of sustenance, but small. Two or three gold watches and chains, with various articles of (sic) jewelery, fancy work-boxes, and a number of trifles, more valued than valuable, made up, besides a remnant of household furniture, the aggregate of their little wealth. Of course, the mother and daughters were driven, at once, to some expedient for keeping the family together. A boarding-house, that first resort of nearly all dest.i.tute females, upon whom families are dependent, especially of those who have occupied an elevated position in society, was opened, as the only means of support that presented itself. The result of this experiment, continued for a year and a half, was a debt of several hundred dollars, which was liquidated by the seizure of Mrs.

Graham's furniture. But worse than this, a specious young man, one of the boarders, had won upon the affections of Ellen, and induced her to marry him. He, too soon, proved himself to have neither a true affection for her, nor to have sound moral principles. He was, moreover, idle, and fond of gay company.

On the day that Mrs. Graham broke up her boardinghouse, Markland, her daughter's husband, was discharged from his situation as clerk, on account of inefficiency. For six months previous, the time he had been married, he had paid no boarding, thus adding himself as a dead weight to the already overburdened family. As he had no house to which he could take Ellen, he very naturally felt himself authorized to share the house to which the distressed family of her mother retired, seemingly regardless of how or by whom the food he daily consumed was provided.

But Mrs. Graham was soon reduced to such extremities, that he was driven off from her, with his wife, and forced to obtain employment by which to support himself and her. As for the old man, he had managed, in the wreck of affairs, to retain a large proportion of his wines, and other choice liquors; and these, which no pressure of want in his family could drive him to sell, afforded the means of gratifying his inordinate love of drink. His clothes gradually became old and rusty--but this seemed to give him no concern. He wandered listlessly in his old business haunts, or lounged about the house in a state of half stupor, drinking regularly all through the day, at frequent periods, and going to bed, usually, at nights, in a state of stupefaction.

When the boarding-house was given up, poor Mrs. Graham, whose health and spirits had both rapidly declined in the past two years, felt utterly at a loss what to do. But pressing necessities required immediate action.

"Anna, child, what are we to do," she said, rousing herself, one evening, while sitting alone with her daughters in gloomy abstraction.

"Indeed, Ma, I am as much at a loss as you are. I have been thinking and thinking about it, until my min--has become beclouded and bewildered."

"I have been thinking, too," said Mary, "and it strikes me that Anna and I might do something in the way of ornamental needlework. Both of us, you know, are fond of it."

"Do you think that we can sell it, after it is done?" Anna asked, with a lively interest in her tone.

"I certainly do. We see plenty of such work in the shops; and they must buy it, of course."

"Let us try, then, Mary," her sister said with animation.

A week spent in untiring industry, produced two elegantly wrought capes, equal to the finest French embroidery.

"And, now, where shall we sell them?" Anna inquired, in a tone of concern.

"Mrs.--would, no doubt, buy them; but I, for one, cannot bear the thought of going there."

"Nor I. But, driven by necessity, I believe that I could brave to go there, or anywhere else, even though I have not been in Chestnut-street for nearly two years."

"Will you go, then, Mary?" Anna asked, in an earnest, appealing tone.

"Yes, Anna, as you seem so shrinkingly reluctant, I will go."

And forthwith Mary prepared herself; and rolling up the two elegant capes, proceeded with them to the store of Mrs.--, in Chestnut-street. It was crowded with customers when she entered, and so she shrunk away to the back part of the store, until Mrs.--should be more at leisure, and she could bargain with her without attracting attention. She had stood there only a few moments,--when her ear caught the sound of a familiar voice--that of Mary Williams, one of her former most intimate a.s.sociates. Her first impulse was to spring forward, but a remembrance of her changed condition instantly recurring to her, she turned more away from the light, so as to effectually conceal herself from the young lady's observation. This she was enabled to do, although Mary Williams came once or twice so near as to brush her garments. How oppressively did her heart beat, at such moments! Old thoughts and old feelings came rus.h.i.+ng back upon her, and in the contrast they occasioned between the past and the present, she was almost overwhelmed with despondency. Customer after customer came in, as one and another retired, many of whose faces were familiar to Mary as old friends and acquaintances. At last, however, after waiting nearly two hours, she made out to get an interview with Mrs.--.

"Well, Miss, what do you want?" asked that personage, as Mary came up before her where she still stood at the counter, for she had observed her waiting in the store for some time. Mrs.--either did not remember, or cared not to remember, her old customer, who had spent, with her sisters, many hundreds of dollars in her store, in times past.

"I have a couple of fine wrought capes that I should like to sell,"

Mary said, in a timid, hesitating voice, unrolling, at the same time, the articles she named.

"Are they French?" asked Mrs.--, without pausing in her employment of rolling up some goods, to take and examine the articles proffered her.

"No, ma'am; they are some of my own and sister's work."

"They won't do, then, Miss. Nothing in the way of fine collars and capes will sell, unless they are French."

Mary felt chilled at heart as Mrs.--said this, and commenced slowly rolling up her capes, faint with disappointment. As she was about turning from the counter, Mrs.--said, in rather an indifferent tone,

"Suppose you let me look at them."

"I am sure you will think them very beautiful," Mary replied, quickly unrolling her little bundle. "They have been wrought with great care."'

"Sure enough, they are quite well done," Mrs.--said, coldly, as she glanced her eyes over the capes. "Almost equal in appearance to the French. But they are only domestic; and domestic embroidered work won't bring scarcely anything. What do you ask for these?"

"We have set no price upon them; but think that they are richly worth five or six dollars apiece."

"Five or six dollars!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Mrs.--, in well feigned surprise, handing back; suddenly, the capes. "O! no, Miss;--American goods don't bring arty such prices."

"Then what will you give for them, Madam?"

"If you feel like taking two dollars apiece for them, you can leave them. But I am not particular," Mrs.--said, in a careless tone.

"Two dollars!" repeated Mary, in surprise. "Surely, Mrs.--, they are worth more than two dollars apiece!"

"I'm not at all anxious to give you even that for them," said Mrs.--. "Not at all; for I am by no means sure that I shall ever get my money back again."

"You will have to take them, then, I suppose," Mary replied, in a disappointed and desponding tone.

"Very well, Miss, I will give you what I said." And Mrs.--took the capes, and handed Mary Graham four dollars in payment.

"If we should conclude to work any more, may we calculate on getting the same money for them?"

"I can't say positively, Miss; but I think that you may calculate on that price for as many as you will bring."

Mary took the money, and turned away. It was only half an hour after, that Mrs.--sold one of them, as "French," for twelve dollars!

Sadly, indeed, were the sisters disappointed at this result. But nothing better offering that they could do, they devoted themselves, late and early, to their needles, the proceeds of which rarely went over five dollars per week; for two years they continued to labour thus.

At the end of that period, Anna sunk under her self-imposed task, and lay ill for many weeks. Especially forbidden by the physician, on her recovery, to enter again upon sedentary employments, Anna cast earnestly about her for some other means whereby to earn something for the common stock. Necessity, during the past two years, had driven her frequently into business parts of the city for the purchase of materials such as they used. Her changed lot gave her new eyes, and her observations were necessarily made upon a new cla.s.s of facts. She had seen shop-girls often enough before, but she had never felt any sympathy with them, nor thought of gaining any information about them. They might receive one dollar a week, or twenty, or work for nothing--it was all the same to her. Even if any one had given her correct information on the subject, she would have forgotten it in ten minutes. But now, it was a matter of interest to know how much they could make--and she had obtained a knowledge of the fact, that they earned from three to six and seven dollars a week, according to their capacities or the responsibility of their stations.

When, therefore, her shattered health precluded her from longer plying her needle, much as she shrank from the publicity and exposure of the position, she resolutely set about endeavouring to obtain a situation as saleswoman in some retail dry-goods store. One of the girls in Mrs.--'s store, who knew all about her family, and deeply commiserated her condition, interested herself for her, and succeeded in getting her a situation, at four dollars a week, in Second-street. To enter upon the employment that now awaited her, was indeed a severe trial; but she went resolutely forward, in the way that duty called.

The sudden change from a sedentary life to one of activity, where she had to be on her feet all day, tried her feeble strength severely. It was with difficulty that she could sometimes keep up at all, and she went home frequently at night in a burning fever. But she gradually acquired a kind of power of endurance, that kept her up. She did not seem to suffer less, but had more strength, as it were, to bear up, and hold on with unflinching resolution.

Thus she had gone on for two or three years, at the time she was again introduced, with her mother and sister, to the reader.

As for their father, his whole stock of liquors had been exhausted for nearly two years, and, during that time, he had resorted to many expedients to obtain the potations he so much loved. Finally, he became so lost to all sense of right or feeling, that he would take money, or anything he could carry off from the house, for the purpose of obtaining liquor. This system had stripped them of many necessary articles, as well as money, and added very greatly to their distress, as well as embarra.s.sments.