"I see that the house next door has been taken," remarked Mr. Leland
to his wife, as they sat alone one pleasant summer evening.
"Yes. The family moved in to-day," returned Mrs. Leland.
"Do you know their name?"
"It is Halloran."
"Halloran, Halloran," said Mr. Leland, musingly. "I wonder if it's
the same family that lived in Parker Street."
"Yes, the same; and I wish they had stayed there."
"Their moving in next door need not trouble us, Jane. They are not
on our list of acquaintances."
"But I shall have to call upon Mrs. Haloran; and Emma upon her
grown-up daughter Mary."
"I do not see how that is to follow as a consequence of their
removal into our neighborhood."
"Politeness requires us to visit them as neighbors."
"Are they really our neighbors?" asked Mr. Leland, significantly.
"Certainly they are. How strange that you should ask the question!"
"What constitutes them such? Not mere proximity, certainly. Because
a person happens to live in a house near by, can that make him or
her really a neighbor, and entitled to the attention and
consideration due a neighbor?"
This remark caused Mrs. Leland to look thoughtful. "It ought not,"
she said, after sitting silent a little while, "but still, it does."
"I do not think so. A neighbor--that is, one to whom kind offices is
due--ought to come with higher claims than the mere fact of living
in a certain house located near by the dwelling in which we reside.
If mere location is to make any one a neighbor, we have no
protection against the annoyance and intrusions of persons we do not
like; nay, against evil-minded persons, who would delight more in
doing us injury than good. These Hallorans for instance. They move
in good society; but they are not persons to our mind. I should not
like to see you on terms of intimacy with Mrs. Halloran, or Jane
with her daughter. In fact, the latter I should feel, did it exist,
to be a calamity."
"Still they _are_ our neighbors," Mrs. Leland said. "I do not see
how we can avoid calling upon them."
"Perhaps," remarked the husband, "you have not thought seriously
enough on the subject.
"Who is my neighbor? is a question of importance, and ought to be
answered in every mind. Something more than living in the same
street, or block of houses, is evidently implied in the word
neighbor. It clearly involves a reciprocity of good feelings. Mere
proximity in space cannot effect this. It requires another kind of
nearness--the nearness of similar affections; and these must,
necessarily, be unselfish; for in selfishness there is no
reciprocity. Under this view, could you consider yourself the
neighbor of such a person as Mrs. Halloran?"
"No matter what the character, we should be kind to all. Every one
should be our neighbor, so far as this is concerned. Do you not
think so?"
"I do not, Jane."
"Should we not be kind to every one?"
"Yes, kind; but not in the acceptation of the word as you have used
it. There is a false, as well as a true kindness. And it often
happens that true kindness appears to be any thing but what it
really is. In order to be kind to another, we are not always
required to exhibit flattering attentions. These often injure where
distance and reserve would do good. Besides, they too frequently
give power to such as are evil-disposed--a power that is exercised
injuriously to others."
"But the simple fact of my calling upon Mrs. Halloran cannot,
possibly, give her the power of injuring me or any one else."
"I think differently. The fact that you have called upon her will be
a reason for some others to do the same; for, you know, there are
persons who never act from a distinct sense of right, but merely
follow in the wake of others. Thus the influence of a selfish,
censorious, evil-minded woman will be extended. So far as you are
concerned, the danger may be greater than you imagine. Is Mary
Halloran, in your estimation, a fit companion for our daughter?
Could she become intimate with her, and not suffer a moral
deterioration?"
"I think not."
"Are you sure that a call upon Mrs. Halloran will not lead to this
result?"
"No, I am not _sure_. Still, I do not apprehend any danger."
"I should be very much afraid of the experiment."
"But, do you not think, husband, that, apart from all these fears, I
am bound to extend to Mrs. Halloran the courtesies due a neighbor?"
"I cannot, in the true sense of the word, consider her a neighbor;
and, therefore, do not see that you owe her the courtesies to which
you allude. It is the good in any one that really makes the
neighbor. This good should ever be regarded. But, to show
attentions, and give eminence and consideration to an evil-minded
person, is to make evil, instead of good, the neighbor.--It is to
give that power to evil which is ever exercised in injury to
others."
Mrs. Leland's mind perceived only in a small degree the force of
what her husband said.--She was not a woman who troubled herself
about the characters of those who stood upon a certain level in
society. Mrs. Halloran claimed her place from wealth and family
connexions, and this place was rather above than below that occupied
by Mrs. Leland. The temptation to call upon her was, therefore,
pretty strong. It was not so much a regard for her new neighbor, as
a desire to make her acquaintance, that influenced her.--Acting in
opposition to her husband's judgment, in a few days she called upon
Mrs. Halloran.
She found her, to use her own words, a "charming woman." The next
move was for the daughter to call upon Mary Halloran. Before the
week passed, these calls had been returned. In a month the two
families--that is, the female members of them--had become quite
intimate. This intimacy troubled Mr. Leland. He was a man of pure
principles, and could tolerate no deviation from them. Deeply did he
regret any association that might tend to weaken the respect for
such principles with which he had sought to inspire the mind of his
daughter. In them he knew lay the power that was to protect her in
the world. But he could not interfere, arbitrarily, with his wife;
that he would have considered more dangerous than to let her act in
freedom. But he felt concerned for the consequence, and frequently
urged her not to be too intimate with her new neighbor.
"Some evil, I am sure, will grow out of it," he would say, whenever
allusion was in any way made to the subject of his wife's intimacy
with Mrs. Halloran. "No one can touch pitch and not be defiled."
"I really must blame you," Mrs. Leland replied to a remark like
this, "for your blind opposition to Mrs. Halloran. The more I see of
her, the better I like her. She is a perfect lady. So kind, so
affable, so--so"--
Mr. Leland shook his head.
"The mere gloss of polite society," he returned. "There is no
soundness in her heart. We know that, for the tree is judged by its
fruit."
"We have seen no evil fruit," said the wife.
"Others have, and we _know_ that others have.--Her conduct in the
case of the Percys is notorious."
"Common report is always exaggerated."
"Though it usually has some foundation in truth. But granting all
the exaggeration and false judgment that usually appertain to common
report, is it not wiser to act as if common report were true, until
we know it to be false?"
But it was useless for Mr. Leland to talk.--His wife was charmed
with the fascinating neighbor, and would hear nothing against her.
Jane, too, had become intimate with Mary Halloran, a bold-faced
girl, who spent half of her time in the street, and talked of little
else but beaux and dress. Jane was eighteen, and before her
acquaintance with Mary, had been but little into company. Her
intimacy with Mary soon put new notions into her head. She began to
think more of dress, and scarcely a day passed that she did not go
out with her very intimate and pleasant friend. Mrs. Leland did not
like this. Much as she was pleased Mrs. Halloran, she never fancied
the daughter a great deal, and would have been much better satisfied
if the two young ladies had not become quite so intimate.
"Where are you going?" she said to Jane, who came down stairs
dressed to go out, one morning.
"Mary and I are going to make some calls," she replied.
"You were out making calls, yesterday, with Mary, and the day before
also. This is too great a waste of time, Jane. I would rather see
you at home more."
"I don't know why you should wish to confine me down to the house.
Mary Halloran goes and comes when she pleases."
"Mary Halloran is in the street a great deal too much. I am far from
wishing to see you imitate her example."
"But what harm is there in it, mother?"
"A great deal, Jane. It gives idle habits, and makes the mind
dissatisfied with the more sober duties of life."
"I am too young for the sober duties of life," said Jane, rather
pertly.
"That is, doubtless, one of your friend Mary's sentiments; and it is
worthy of her."
This was true, and Jane did not deny it.
"Go now," said Mrs. Leland, with much sobriety of manner. "But
remember that I disapprove of this gadding about, and object to its
continuance. I should be very sorry to have your father know to what
extent you are carrying it."
Jane went out and called for Mary, and the two young ladies made a
few calls, and then walked the streets until dinner time; not,
however, alone, but accompanied by a dashing young fellow, who had
been introduced to Mary a few evenings before, and now made bold to
follow up the acquaintance, encouraged by a glance from the young
lady's bright, inviting eyes.
Mrs. Leland, in the mean time, felt unhappy. Her daughter was
changing, and the change troubled her. The intimacy formed with Mary
Halloran, it was clear, was doing her no good, but harm. By this
time, too, she had noticed some things in the mother that were by no
means to her taste. There was a coarseness, vulgarity and want of
delicacy about her, that showed itself more and more every day,
traits of character particularly offensive to Mrs. Leland, who was a
woman of refined sentiments. Besides, Mrs. Halloran's conversation
involved topics neither interesting nor instructing to her
neighbors; and often of a decidedly objectionable kind. In fact, she
liked her less and less every day, and felt her too frequently
repeated visits as an annoyance; and though "Why don't you come in
to see me oftener?" was repeated almost daily, she did not return
more than one out of every half dozen calls she received.
"I've seen Jane in the street with that Mary Halloran no less than
three times this week," said Mr. Leland, one day, "and on two of
these occasions there was a beau accompanying each of the young
ladies."
"She goes out too often, I know," returned Mrs. Leland seriously. "I
have objected to it several times, but the girl's head seems turned
with that Mary Halloran. I do wish she had never known her."
"So do I, from my heart. We knew what she was, and never should have
permitted Jane to make her acquaintance, if it had been in our power
to prevent it."
"It is too late now, and can't be helped."
"Too late to prevent the acquaintance, but not too late to prevent
some of the evil consequences likely to grow out of such an improper
intimacy, which must cease from the present time."
"It will be a difficult matter to break it off now."
"No matter how difficult it may be, it must be done. The first step
toward it you will have to make, in being less intimate with the
mother, whom I like less and less the oftener I meet her."
"That step, so far as I am concerned, has already been taken. I have
ceased visiting Mrs. Halloran almost entirely; but she is here just
as often, and sadly annoys me. I dislike her more and more every
day."
"If I saw as much in any one to object to as you see in Mrs.
Halloran, I would soon make visiting a thing by no means agreeable.
You can easily get rid of her intrusive familiarity if you think
proper."
"Yes, by offending her, and getting the ill-will of a low-minded
unprincipled woman; a thing that no one wants."
"Better offend her than suffer, as we are likely to suffer, from a
continuance of the acquaintance. Offend the mother, I say, and thus
you get rid of the daughter."
But Mrs. Leland was not prepared for this step, yet. From having
been fascinated by Mrs. Halloran, she now began to fear her.
"I should not like to have her talk of me as she talks of some
people whom I think a great deal better than she is."
"Let her talk. What she says will be no scandal," returned Mr.
Leland.
"Even admit that, I don't want to be on bad terms with a neighbor.
If she were to remove from the neighborhood, the thing would assume
a different aspect. As it is, I cannot do as I please."
"Can't you indeed? Then I think we had better move forthwith, in
order that you may be free to act right. There is one thing that I
intend doing, immediately, in any event, and that is, to forbid Jane
from associating any longer with Mary Halloran."
"She cannot help herself. Mary calls for her every day."
"She can help going out with her and returning her calls; and this
she must do."
"I wish it could be prevented. But I am afraid of harsh measures."
"I am more afraid of the consequences to our daughter. We know not
into what company this indiscreet young lady may introduce, nor how
deeply she may corrupt her. Our duty to our child requires us at
once to break up all intercourse with the family."
The necessity Mrs. Leland saw clearly enough, but she hesitated. Her
husband, however, was not a man to hold back when his duty was
before him. Neither fear nor favor governed him in his actions
toward others. When satisfied that a thing ought to be done, he
entered fearlessly upon the work, leaving consequences to take care
of themselves.
While they were yet conversing Jane came to the door, accompanied by
a young gallant. Mr. Leland happened to be sitting near the window
and saw him.
"Bless my heart!" he said, in an excited voice.
"Here she is now, in company with that good-for-nothing son of Mr.
Clement. She might almost as well associate with Satan himself."
"With John Clement?" asked Mrs. Leland, in surprise.
"It is too true; and the fellow had the assurance to kiss his hand
to her. This matter has gone quite far enough now, in all
conscience, and must be stopped, if half the world become offended."
Mrs. Leland doubted and hesitated no longer. The young man who had
come home with Jane bore a notoriously bad character. It was little
less than disgrace, in the eyes of virtuous people, for a lady to be
seen in the street with him. Mr. and Mrs. Leland were shocked and
distressed at the appearance of things; and mutually resolved that
all intercourse with Mrs. Halloran and her daughter should cease.
This could not be effected without giving offence; but no matter,
offence would have to be given.
On that very afternoon Mrs. Halloran called in. But Mrs. Leland sent
her word that she was engaged.
"Engaged, indeed!" said the lady to the servant, tossing her head.
"I'm never engaged to a neighbor."
The servant repeated the words.
"Be engaged again, if she calls," said Mr. Leland, when his wife
mentioned the remark of her visitor. "It will raise an effectual
barrier between you."
Some serious conversation was had with Jane that day by her mother,
but Jane was by no means submissive.
"Your father positively forbids any farther intimacy between you and
Mary Halloran. I shall have nothing more to do with her mother."
Jane met this declaration with a passionate gush of tears, and an
intimation that she was not prepared to sacrifice the friendship of
Mary, whom she believed to be quite as good as herself.
"It must be done, Jane. Your father has the best of reasons for
desiring it, and I hope you will not think for a moment of opposing
his wishes."
"He doesn't know Mary as I know her. His prejudices have no
foundation in truth," said Jane.
"No matter how pure she may be," replied the mother, "she has
already introduced you into bad company. A virtuous young lady
should blush to be seen in the street with the man who came home
with you to-day."
"Who, Mr. Clement?" inquired Jane.
"Yes, John Clement. His bad conduct is so notorious as to exclude
him entirely from the families of many persons, who have the
independence to mark with just reprehension his evil deeds. It
grieves me to think that you were not instinctively repelled by him
the moment he approached you."
Jane's manner changed at these words. But the change did not clearly
indicate to her mother what was passing in her mind. From that
moment she met with silence nearly every thing that her mother said.
Early on the next day Mary Halloran called for Jane, as she was
regularly in the habit of doing. Mrs. Leland purposely met her at
the door, and when she inquired for Jane, asked her, with an air of
cold politeness, to excuse her daughter, as she was engaged.
"Not engaged to _me_," said Mary, evincing surprise.
"You must excuse her, Miss Halloran; she is engaged this morning,"
returned the mother, with as much distance and formality as at
first.
Mary Halloran turned away, evidently offended.
"Ah me!" sighed Mrs. Leland, as she closed the door upon the giddy
young girl; "how much trouble has my indiscreetness cost me. My
husband was right, and I felt that he was right; but, in the face of
his better judgment, I sought the acquaintance of this woman, and
now, where the consequences are to end, heaven only knows."
"Was that Mary Halloran?" inquired Jane, who came down stairs as her
mother returned along the passage.
"It was," replied the mother.
"Why did she go away?"
"I told her you were engaged."
"Why, mother!" Jane seemed greatly disturbed.
"It is your father's wish as well as mine," said Mrs. Leland calmly,
"that all intercourse between you and this young lady cease, and for
reasons that I have tried to explain to you. She is one whose
company you cannot keep without injury."
Jane answered with tears, and retired to her chamber, where she
wrote a long and tender letter to Mary, explaining her position.
This letter she got the chambermaid to deliver, and bribed her to
secrecy. Mary replied, in an epistle full of sympathy for her
unhappy condition, and full of indignation at the harsh judgment of
her parents in regard to herself. The letter contained various
suggestions in regard to the manner in which Jane ought to conduct
herself, none of them at all favorable to submission and concluded
with warm attestations of friendship.
From that time an active correspondence took place between the young
ladies, and occasional meetings at times when the parents of Jane
supposed her to be at the houses of some of their friends.
As for Mrs. Halloran, she was seriously offended at the sudden
repulse both she and her daughter had met, and spared no pains, and
let no opportunity go unimproved, for saying hard things of Mrs.
Leland and her family. Even while Mary was carrying on a tender and
confidential correspondence with Jane, she was hinting disreputable
things against the thoughtless girl, and doing her a serious injury.
The first intimation that the parents had of any thing being wrong,
was the fact that two very estimable ladies, for whom they had a
high respect, and with whose daughters Jane was on terms of
intimacy, twice gave Jane the same answer that Mrs. Leland had given
Mary Halloran; thus virtually saying to her that they did not wish
her to visit their daughters. Both Mr. and Mrs. Leland, when Jane
mentioned these occurrences, left troubled. Not long after, a large
party was given by one of the ladies, but no invitations were sent
to either Mr. or Mrs. Leland, or their daughter. This was felt to be
an intended omission.
After long and serious reflection on the subject, Mrs. Leland felt
it to be her duty, as a parent, to see this lady, and frankly ask
the reason of her conduct towards Jane, as well as toward her and
her husband. She felt called upon to do this, in order to ascertain
if there were not some things injurious to her daughter in common
report. The lady seemed embarrassed on meeting Mrs. Leland, but the
latter, without any excitement, or the appearance of being in the
least offended, spoke of what had occurred, and then said--
"Now, there must be a reason for this. Will you honestly tell me
what it is?"
The lady seemed confused and hesitated.
"Do not fear to speak plainly, my dear madam. Tell me the whole
truth. There is something wrong, and I ought to know it. Put
yourself in my place, and you will not long hesitate what to do."
"It is a delicate and painful subject for me to speak of to you,
Mrs. Leland."
"No matter. Speak out without disguise."