They soon found that they wanted more dresses, and what was very remarkable, they did not want to go to the French dress-maker. What could be the reason? They had watched their brother; they had seen him go to Athalia"s; they had seen him in the theatre with her; they had met them walking, arm in arm, in Broadway, "the shameless hussey;" and once they had entered Thompson"s, and walked upstairs to take ice cream, "actually over our heads." Walter Morgan, the richest merchant"s son, in New York, gallanting a seamstress--their own dress-maker. And every day some of their acquaintance were asking them, "Who is that beautiful girl I saw with Walter?" Of course they did not know; how could they tell that he had taken up with "such a thing?" In vain they talk to him, he was mum, or if he spoke of her, it was with the highest respect. Would he marry her? Ah, there was the rub.
"It is a pity," said Elsie, "that he would not ruin her, and that would be the end of it."
Did a spirit furnish that cue, or was it a wicked woman"s own conceit?
At any rate, it was a cue upon which they acted. Athalia was sent for, and the young ladies never were so affable before. Every opportunity was contrived for Walter to accomplish the purpose of a villain. Their schemes had the exact contrary effect desired. He had made such advances at first as "men about town" do make, and had met with such a decided repulse, not an angry one, but a virtuous one, that he never would try again.
"I expected it," said she to his proposals, "I am used to it--I am almost every day exposed to such tempting offers, to escape a life of poverty--I have ceased to look upon them as insulting--nature, and fashion, and the state of society, are such in this city, that a girl with an unfortunate face like mine, must fall, unless she is possessed of such fort.i.tude as but few young girls are naturally gifted with. You may ask me that question every day; every day you may, if you feel like wounding the feelings of a poor girl, repeat your question, and every day you will get the same answer."
"Athalia, forgive me. Oh, forgive me; I never will repeat the question again; whether you forgive me or not, you need have no fear of that."
What a failure then had his sisters made. They did just what they did not intend to do; they led Walter to think, that his family would approve a match with one so virtuous, so beautiful, so lovely, even if she was a sewing girl, and he began to build castles in the air upon this foundation. They were very sandy, and a storm was approaching that would soon beat upon the frail walls, and like all such fabrics, down they will tumble.
CHAPTER IX.
ATHALIA, THE SEWING GIRL.
"One sorrow never comes but brings an heir, That may succeed as its inheritor."
"Proper deformity seems not in the fiend So horrid, as in woman."
Marriage, death, bankruptcy, poverty, sin, and, finally, "plucked like a brand from the burning," are the contents, the introduction, and peroration, of this chapter. If you are satisfied at a glance, you can pa.s.s on, the filling up, is but the shading of the sketch. But if you are curious to know who marries, who dies, and who does worse--read.
"It is but a step from the palace to the tomb," yet the road sometimes seems a long and dreary one, leading through strange, dark places.
I have come to the conclusion, that lovers of romance, and those who cater for them, writing tales of fiction, have mistaken their vocation.
Let them gather up and detail a few of the incidents of real Life Scenes as they occur, and there will be no occasion for fiction. So let us on with our narration of events.
Mr. Morgan was a merchant, wealthy as Croesus, perhaps more so; and he had more need to be, for he lived "up town," in "up town" style. The simple interest upon the cost of his house and furniture was seven thousand dollars a year, and his annual expenses double that sum.
Of course his daughters had never taken a st.i.tch in their lives. They had been to school, where nothing useful is taught; and learned what is called music, and could waltz to perfection. Walter, had been to college. What had he learnt? To drink a bottle of wine every day after dinner, and "fill up," with mint juleps, sherry coblers, and brandy smashes, the intermediate time. Not one useful thing had either of them been taught, not one lesson in the art of self-support; all was self-indulgence. They laughed, or would have laughed at the idea, if any one had dared to mention it, that the time would ever come, that they would have occasion to lift a hand to procure their own bread.
It is a bad school--it has many scholars.
Mr. Morgan came home one day in unusual glee; he was naturally a stern man. He had heard of the very successful voyage of the Matilda--named after his daughter--to China, where she would load with teas and silks for a home voyage. She was insured in a very rich London office. Some of his cautious friends advised him to "hedge," by insuring also in other offices; he had never met with a single loss in his life; he had often been his own insurer, and took about half the value of the Matilda now on his own insurance book, which showed a great many thousand dollars in his favor.
"Yes," said a Paul Pry, of my acquaintance, "more thousands than he is now worth, if his debts were paid."
Who believed it? Not the banks, which loaned him any amount he desired.
Not the wife, and son, and daughters, for that stern husband and father never told them of his business.
"That is my business," was the cut-off valve which always shut down upon every question as certain as that of the steam engine at the point where it must change the motion.
After dinner and the second bottle, the family were startled by the sudden announcement he made for to-morrow.
"We start for Lake George to-morrow morning; come, get ready."
"Why, father, what has started you all of a sudden?"
"That"s my business."
"Well, we cannot get ready, no way in the world."
"Pshaw! I could get a ship ready before ten o"clock."
"But we cannot get new hats."
"Plenty of time. Start right out."
"To-night? Buy a hat in the evening, who ever heard of such a thing?
What would Mrs. Grundy say?"
"Ask her, she is going with us; or rather, we are going with them.
Grundy is in shoal water, and wants to get out of sight a few days; and I want he should, for I am on his paper heavy."
"Oh, it is absolutely impossible for us to go to our milliner to-night."
"Go in the morning, then. Time enough."
"What? before ten o"clock. How vulgar you are, father."
"Very well: if you cannot get up new flying gibs, go to sea with the old ones."
"Well, I suppose we might send for Madam Pantanosi to call in the morning; but, dear me, there are our dresses all in the work-room, not one of them done. You don"t expect Athalia is going to finish them to-night, do you?"
"Have you no others?"
"What if we have? the Grundys know that we have new ones making, and of course, will expect to see them. You don"t expect your daughters, I hope, to wear old dresses, on a tour to the Lakes?"
"Why not? That is the place to wear them."
"You may talk, father, but it is out of the question."
"Well, settle it your own way. I go to-morrow, and if you are going with me, you had better be getting ready; besides, let me tell you, young Wendall is going up too. We are going to have some great sport, fishing."
That decided Elsie. If George Wendall and the Grundys were going, she must go, for he and Minnie Grundy needed watching. She would go, if she wore the old hat, and a dress that had been worn twice before.
"Where is that seamstress? she must work all night, and get my dress done any way."
"Elsie, daughter, she cannot do that, her eyes are very weak. You had better take her along with us, the poor girl; give her a little country air, and let her finish your dresses there."
"Yes, yes, that"s it, wife, let her go along. She appears to be a right, tight little craft. A sail will do her good. What a pity she did not hail from the right port."
"You have very curious notions, father."
"That is my business."