From Wealth to Poverty Part 19

Ruth had scarcely become convalescent when this occurred, and was again completely prostrated. The family were now only kept from want by the earnings of Eddie and Allie, though Mr. Gurney and other friends were exceedingly kind, and did everything they could, without wounding the sensibilities of Mrs. Ashton, to help her and her family.

Ashton was now completely demoralized. He had become so depraved by drink as to have lost all self-respect, and seemed to be regardless of the condition of his family. He had not only desisted from bringing anything in to help support them, but the miserable man had, again and again, stealthily taken some souvenir of other and happier days, and p.a.w.ned it in order to procure liquor.

He had also become so completely transformed by drink that, in his wild, drunken frenzy, he would be cross and even abusive to his wife and children; and there was that shadow of a great sorrow ever lowering over them, and that wearing unrest and fear that is ever the patrimony of those who are the inmates of a drunkard's home.

It was now a providential thing for them that Eddie had procured a situation with Mr. Gurney; and that Allie, though she was so young, was able to turn her musical accomplishments to account, and give instruction in music to several pupils. They, by their united earnings, as we have before intimated, managed to keep the wolf from the door.

Ashton was now most of his time absent from home, drinking at some of the hotels or groggeries, and he had become so utterly degraded that even Ginsling, the man who had been the chief instrument of his ruin, would avoid him; and Rivers and Porter, and the other tavern-keepers, would turn him out on the street, as they did many others, in order to demonstrate that the Dunkin Act was a failure.

At such times he would stagger home if he was able, which was not always the case; and once or twice he nearly perished from cold and exposure. Eddie frequently had to search through the groggeries to find him and lead him home.

One evening, just at twilight, as Allie was returning from giving a lesson to one of her pupils, she had to pa.s.s by Porter's hotel on her way home, and, when opposite the bar-room door, she heard her father in loud conversation with some one inside. Impelled by an impulse to rescue him from impending evil, she opened the door and walked in. She found herself in the midst of a bar-room full of drunken, ruffianly-looking men, a long row of whom were standing at the bar, with gla.s.ses in hand, while one of their number was proposing a toast of the grossest character. To her dismay her father was among them. She stood for a moment or two hesitating what to do, and she trembled violently, and experienced a sinking sensation as she found every eye turned upon her. The voice of him who was proposing the toast was instantly hushed, and every gla.s.s was lowered and placed on the counter. There was a dead silence for a few moments, as all seemed intuitively to understand they were in the presence of innocence and refinement; in fact, of a being superior to themselves, and one who was not accustomed to such surroundings.

"Do you wish to see me?" said Mr. Porter.

After a moment's hesitation, in order to gain control of herself, Allie answered his question in true Yankee style; that is, by asking another. She asked, with great dignity--though she had to a.s.sert all her will-power to conceal her agitation:--

"Are you the proprietor?"

"I am," said Porter. "Will you not step into the sitting-room?" he said, with rough kindness; for naturally brutal as he was, even he for a moment was toned down by the presence of the fair young girl.

"No, thank you," she answered. "I came in to ask my father to come home. I heard his voice as I was pa.s.sing by, and thought if I stepped in and asked him he would not refuse to accompany me."

In a moment there was a marvellous change in the manner of Porter, and he asked, in reply to Allie, in a coa.r.s.e, ruffianly manner:

"Are you Ashton's daughter?"

"I am, sir," replied Allie, straightening herself up, the manner of the question, more than the words, causing her cheeks to flush and indignant fire to flash in her eyes.

"I wish, then," he continued, "you would take the drunken fool home, and keep him when you get him there. I have been bothered enough with him lately."

"Why, then, have you, and others in your business, enticed him to drink? He would not have been in the sad state he is to-day, sir, if he had not been tempted to do wrong. Would to G.o.d, for my poor mother's sake" (and as she mentioned her mother's name her eyes filled with tears), "he would never again put foot in this place.

Father!" she said, walking over to him, and putting her hand affectionately on his arm, "you will come, will you not?"

"Yes, my girl, I will," answered her father, who, though very much under the influence of liquor when she so unexpectedly made her appearance, seemed considerably sobered by what had transpired. He also keenly felt the degradation of having his pure, gentle young daughter in a place with such surroundings.

"I will, my girl," he reiterated; "and what you said was true. I was waylaid and tempted, and I believe it was all planned by him and others of the same profession. Had it not been for this, you would not have found me here to-day, and would also have been spared this degradation. But if I and others had not been weak their schemes would have failed."

"If you or any one else say I enticed you, or employed any other person to do so, I say, in reply, it is a lie!" said Porter; and he not only looked at Ashton as he spoke, but also at his daughter.

Ashton was maddened by the insulting remarks which were evidently intended for both. He turned almost savagely to Porter, and said:

"You dastardly ruffian! if you were not a coward you would not insult a young girl." As he said this, he struggled to get away from Allie, as if he would fly at Porter; but she threw her arms around him, and, crying piteously, begged him to come home.

"Oh, father!" she said, "I want to leave this horrible place. Oh!

don't say anything, but come home."

"You had better leave," said Porter; "and if you were not an old man, and your daughter was where she should be--at home--I would knock you down. I would allow no man who was able to defend himself to say so much to me without making him sorry for it."

"You wouldn't," said a tall, athletic young man, stepping forward as he spoke. "Well, I will give you an opportunity to make good your words. I say that the man who is contemptible enough to make use of the language you have, in the presence of a young lady, is a bully, a brute, and a miserable coward. Now, make good your boast."

Porter, stung by the epithets applied to him, sprang with the fury of a tiger at the young man who thus defied him; but if he expected to surprise him by the suddenness of his attack, or to crash him with his vast bulk, he counted without his host, for the young man, with the agility of a cat, stepped to one side, and, as he did so, struck Porter such a blow that he fell to the floor as one dead. He then turned to Allie as if nothing had happened, and said, with gentle courtesy:

"Miss Ashton, this is no place for you; if you will leave, I will accompany Mr. Ashton and you home."

"Oh! is he dead?" she said, as she viewed with anxiety and alarm the prostrate form of the brutal ruffian.

"You need not be in the least alarmed about that, miss," said one who was bending over him; "Joe Porter ain't so easily killed as that; though I tell you, that young fellow's blow is like a kick from a boss. He did hit him a stunner, but I must say he just got what he deserved."

Just then Porter, in whose face they had been sprinkling water, began to show signs of life and to mutter fearful oaths against Ashton, Allie, and the young man who had so n.o.bly championed their cause.

"Let us go," said Allie; "let us leave this awful place. Come, pa, for he will soon be up. Oh, how can you frequent such a place as this is?"

When they stepped outside, they found the twilight was deepening into darkness. Allie thanked the young man for his gallant conduct, but would not accept his proffered escort: she said she did not wish to trouble him further. As they parted she shook hands with him, as did her father, and bade him a cordial good-bye.

"I am very much obliged to you," said Mr. Ashton to him, "and shall never forget your kindness; but I hope you may not get into trouble for your valor in our behalf."

"There is no danger of that," he said; "I am abundantly able to take care of myself. But, sir," he continued, "if you will allow one who is young enough to be your son to put in a word to you in the way of advice, I would say, do not be found again as you were to-night. My dear sir, you are altogether too good for such company as that; and then, you involve others in your own degradation."

"I know it, sir; I know it too well. I take your advice as it is intended, and hope I may yet receive strength to follow it; but I have failed so often that I dare not make a promise. G.o.d bless you sir! Good-bye."

The young man stood looking after Ashton as he disappeared in the darkness. Allie had started a little before her father, and had not therefore been a listener to their conversation. She had to call into a store to make a few purchases, her father promising to meet her at the shop-door and accompany her home.

"There," soliloquised the young man, "is another poor fool who, possessing bright parts, is just about destroyed by drink. How many thousands there are, even in this country, just like him-- going to ruin themselves at lightning speed, and dragging their families with them! What a beautiful girl his daughter is! What a figure! What eyes and hair, and what a beautiful complexion! How cultured and intelligent she appeared! She cannot be more than fourteen or fifteen, and yet she seemed to have the thoughtfulness and self-possession of a woman. The idea of one possessing her refinement being in the den of Old Joe Porter! I must endeavor to be better acquainted if we establish a business here. It was fortunate I went to make that enquiry. I guess Porter will not forget me for some time."

CHAPTER x.x.xI.

RICHARD ASHTON AND LITTLE MAMIE--MAMIE'S DREAM.

After Allie had left her father she hastened on, determined to get through her shopping as quickly as possible, so as to be ready to accompany him home. She now began to doubt if she did right to leave him, even for a moment, for might he not now be led by his appet.i.te to some other groggery, and then what would be the result! She hastened out, and rejoiced to find him waiting for her, and together they silently wended their way home.

It was not their old home, for they were forced some time previous to this to remove from it to one that was much less pretentious; for now they had to exercise the most rigid economy.

Their present abode was a little rough-cast storey-and-a-half house, consisting of a main building and an addition. The main building contained three apartments down-stairs, one of which served for dining-room and parlor, and the other two were bedrooms. The up-stairs had not been finished, though they had managed to fix it up so that Eddie could sleep there; and by the mother's and sister's industry and skill it had been made quite comfortable; but it was not to be compared to the beautiful room which he possessed in his old home.

The addition contained the kitchen and pantry; and though very cold in severe weather, it served the purpose for which it was intended.

The princ.i.p.al apartment in the main building was very small; but though such was the case, and Mrs. Ashton was still weak and suffering, yet she and Allie had managed to give those little touches in its arrangement which indicated a cultured taste and made it snug and cozy.

The night in question, when Allie and her father came in, Mrs.

Ashton was sitting in an easy chair, propped up by pillows. As she sat there, one could see that sickness and worry had wrought terrible ravages during the last year. Her thin, white face looked all the more ghastly because of her large, dreamy eyes; and her hands were so white and thin that they seemed as though transparent. Her hair, which had once been so golden, was now s.h.i.+mmering with silver; and no one who had known her a few years previous would recognize her now as the same person. Surely she had pa.s.sed "under the rod." The suffering she had endured would have turned the rich purple wine of some women's natures into vinegar, and the drunkard's home would have been a miniature pandemonium; but it had not been so in the present instance. Ruth Ashton had borne her sorrows meekly; and, let me ask, what sorrow is greater than that which she had to bear? She had seen the man that she loved for his n.o.ble and manly attributes, ruined by strong drink; his bright intellect robbed of its l.u.s.tre, and his loving heart made sluggish and cold. What shame she felt! For did not she and the children share in his degradation? What humiliation of spirit they endured! But she never spoke other than kindly to her husband. He had not the trite excuse of thousands of worthless husbands who are neglecting their homes and spending their money in the groggery, while their families are existing in squalor and famis.h.i.+ng for bread. He could never say he was driven to drink by the naggings of a querulous wife; for though tried almost beyond human endurance--so tried, that the poor heart was well-nigh broken, and her flesh had almost failed--she never changed in her manner towards him, but was still the kind, loving wife she had been from the first.

When he and Allie came in, every eye was turned upon him to see if he was, as usual, intoxicated; and when Mrs. Ashton saw that he was almost as sober as when he left home, her heart was filled with joy.

"Hurry up, Mamie," she said, "and give your papa a seat. Take his hat, dear, and get his slippers. If you are not too tired, Allie dear, hurry up with the supper."