“HAVE you seen much of your new neighbours, yet?” asked Mrs. Morris, as
she stepped in to have an hour's social chat with her old friend, Mrs.
Freeman.
“Very little,” was the reply. “Occasionally I have seen the lady walking
in her garden, and have sometimes watched the sports of the children on
the side-walk, but this is all. It is not like the country, you
know. One may live here for years, and not become acquainted with the
next-door neighbours.”
“Some may do so,” replied Mrs. Morris, “but, for my part, I always like
to know something of those around me. It is not always desirable to make
the acquaintance of near neighbours, but by a little observation it
is very easy to gain an insight into their characters and position in
society. The family which has moved into the house next to yours, for
instance, lived near to me for nearly two years, and although I never
spoke to one of them, I can tell you of some strange transactions which
took place in their house.”
“Indeed!” replied Mrs. Freeman, with little manifestation of interest or
curiosity; but Mrs. Morris was too eager to communicate her information
to notice her friend's manner, and lowering her voice to a confidential
tone, continued:--
“There is an old lady in their family whom they abuse in the most
shocking manner. She is very rich, and they by threats and ill-treatment
extort large sums of money from her.”
“A singular way of inducing any one to bestow favours,” replied Mrs.
Freeman, dryly. “Why does not the old lady leave there?”
“Bless your heart, my dear friend, she cannot get an opportunity! They
never suffer her to leave the house unattended. Once or twice, indeed,
she succeeded in getting into the street, but they discovered her in a
moment, and actually forced her into the house. You smile incredulously,
but if you had been an eye-witness of their proceedings, as I have, or
had heard the screams of the poor creature, and the heavy blows which
they inflict, you would be convinced of the truth of what I tell you.”
“I do not doubt the truth of your story in the least, my dear Mrs.
Morris. I only think that in this case, as in most others, there must
be two sides to the story. It is almost incredible that such barbarous
treatment could continue for any great length of time without discovery
and exposure.”
“Oh, as to that, people are not fond of getting themselves into trouble
by meddling with their neighbours' affairs. I am very cautious about
it myself. I would not have mentioned this matter to any one but an old
friend like yourself. It seemed best to put you on your guard.”
“Thank you,” was the smiling reply. “It is hardly probable that I shall
be called upon to make any acquaintance with my new neighbours but if I
am, I certainly shall not forget your caution.”
Satisfied that she had succeeded, at least partially, in awakening the
suspicions of her friend, Mrs. Morris took her departure, while Mrs.
Freeman, quite undisturbed by her communications, continued her usual
quiet round of domestic duties, thinking less of the affairs of her
neighbours than of those of her own household.
Occasionally she saw the old lady whom Mrs. Morris had mentioned walking
in the adjoining garden, sometimes alone, and sometimes accompanied
by the lady of the house, or one of the children. There was nothing
striking in her appearance. She looked cheerful and contented, and
showed no signs of confinement or abuse. Once, when Mrs. Freeman was in
her garden, she had looked over the fence, and praised the beauty of her
flowers, and when a bunch was presented to her, had received them with
that almost childish delight which aged people often manifest.
Weeks passed on, and the remarks of Mrs. Morris were almost forgotten,
when Mrs. Freeman was aroused one night by loud cries, apparently
proceeding from the adjoining house; and on listening intently could
plainly distinguish the sound of heavy blows, and also the voice of the
old lady in question, as if in earnest expostulation and entreaty.
Mrs. Freeman aroused her husband, and together they listened in anxiety
and alarm. For nearly an hour the sounds continued, but at length
all was again quiet. It was long, however, before they could compose
themselves to rest. It was certainly strange and unaccountable, and
there was something so inhuman in the thought of abusing an aged woman
that their hearts revolted at the idea.
Still Mrs. Freeman maintained, as was her wont, that there must be two
sides to the story; and after vainly endeavouring to imagine what the
other side could be, she fell asleep, and was undisturbed until morning.
All seemed quiet the next day, and Mrs. Freeman had somewhat recovered
from the alarm of the previous night, when she was again visited by her
friend, Mrs. Morris. As usual, she had confidential communications to
make, and particularly wished the advice of Mrs. Freeman in a matter
which she declared weighed heavily upon her mind; and being assured that
they should be undisturbed, began at once to impart the weighty secret.
“You remember Mrs. Dawson, who went with her husband to Europe, a year
or two ago?”
“Certainly I do,” was the reply. “I was well acquainted with her.”
“Do you recollect a girl who had lived with her for several years? I
think her name was Mary Berkly.”
“Quite well. Mrs. Dawson placed great confidence in her, and wished to
take her abroad, but Mary was engaged to an honest carpenter, in good
business, and wisely preferred a comfortable house in her own country.”
“She had other reasons, I suspect,” replied Mrs. Morris, mysteriously,
“but you will hear. This Mary Berkly, or as she is now called,
Mary White, lives not far from my present residence. Her husband is
comfortably off, and his wife is not obliged to work, excepting in her
own family, but still she will occasionally, as a favour, do up a few
muslins for particular persons. You know she was famous for her skill
in those things. The other day, having a few pieces which I was
particularly anxious to have look nice, I called upon her to see if she
would wash them for me. She was not at home, but her little niece, who
lives with her, a child of four years old, said that Aunt Mary would be
in directly, and asked me to walk into the parlour. I did so, and the
little thing stood by my side chattering away like a magpie. In reply
to my questions as to whether she liked to live with her aunt, what she
amused herself with, &c., &c., she entered into a long account of
her various playthings, and ended by saying that she would show me a
beautiful new doll which her good uncle had given her, if I would please
to unlock the door of a closet near where I was sitting, as she could
not turn the key.
“To please the child I unlocked the door. She threw it wide open, and
to my astonishment I saw that it was filled with valuable silver plate,
china, and other articles of similar kind, some of which I particularly
remembered having seen at Mrs. Dawson's.”
“Perhaps she gave them to Mary,” suggested Mrs. Freeman. “She was quite
attached to her.”
“Impossible!” exclaimed Mrs. Morris. “Valuable silver plate is not often
given to servants. But I have not yet finished. Just as the child had
found the doll Mrs. White entered, and on seeing the closet-door open,
said sternly to the child,
“'Rosy, you did very wrong to open that door without my leave. I shall
not let you take your doll again for a week;' and looking very red and
confused, she hastily closed it, and turned the key. Now, to my mind,
these are suspicious circumstances, particularly as I recollect that Mr.
and Mrs. Dawson were robbed of silver plate shortly before they went to
Europe, and no trace could be found of the thieves.”
“True,” replied Mrs. Freeman, thoughtfully; “I recollect the robbery
very well. Still I cannot believe that Mary had anything to do with it.
I was always pleased with her modest manner, and thought her an honest,
capable girl.”
“She is very smooth-faced, I know,” answered Mrs. Morris, “but
appearances are certainly against her. I am confident that the articles
I saw belonged to Mrs. Dawson.”
“There may be another side to the story, however,” remarked her friend;
“but why not mention your suspicions to Mrs. Dawson? You know she has
returned, and is boarding in the upper part of the city. I have her
address, somewhere.”
“I know where she lives; but would you really advise me to meddle with
the affair? I shall make enemies of Mr. and Mrs. White, if they hear of
it, and I like to have the good-will of all, both, rich and poor.”
“I do not believe that Mary would take anything wrongfully,” replied
Mrs. Freeman; “but if my suspicions were as fully aroused as yours seem
to be, I presume I should mention what I saw to Mrs. Dawson, if it
were only for the sake of hearing the other side of the story, and thus
removing such unpleasant doubts from my mind. And, indeed, if you really
think that the articles which you saw were stolen, it becomes your duty
to inform the owners thereof, or you become, in a measure, a partaker of
the theft.”
“That is true,” said Mrs. Morris, rising, “and in that way I might
ultimately gain the ill-will of Mrs. Dawson; therefore I think I will go
at once and tell her my suspicions.”
“Which, I am convinced, you will find erroneous,” replied Mrs. Freeman.
“We shall see,” was the answer of her friend, accompanied by an ominous
shake of the head; and promising to call upon Mrs. Freeman on her
return, she took leave.
During her absence, the alarming cries from the next house were again
heard; and presently the old lady appeared on the side-walk, apparently
in great agitation and alarm, and gazing wildly about her, as if seeking
a place of refuge; but she was instantly seized in the forcible manner
Mrs. Morris had described, and carried into the house.
“This is dreadful!” exclaimed Mrs. Freeman. “What excuse can there
be for such treatment?” and for a moment her heart was filled with
indignation toward her supposed barbarous neighbours; but a little
reflection caused her still to suspend her judgment, and endeavour to
learn both sides of the story.
As she sat ruminating on this singular occurrence, and considering what
was her duty in regard to it, she was aroused by the entrance of Mrs.
Morris, who, with an air of vexation and disappointment, threw herself
upon the nearest chair, exclaiming,
“A pretty piece of work I have been about! It is all owing to your
advice, Mrs. Freeman. If it had not been for you I should not have made
such a fool of myself.”
“Why, what has happened to you?” asked Mrs. Freeman, anxiously. “What
advice have I given you which has caused trouble?”
“You recommended my calling upon Mrs. Dawson, did you not?”
“Certainly: I thought it the easiest way to relieve your mind from
painful suspicions. What did she say?”
“Say! I wish you could have seen the look she gave me when I told her
what I saw at Mrs. White's. You know her haughty manner? She thanked me
for the trouble I had taken on her account, and begged leave to assure
me that she had perfect confidence in the honesty of Mrs. White. The
articles which had caused me so much unnecessary anxiety were intrusted
to her care when they went to Europe, and it had not yet been convenient
to reclaim them. I cannot tell you how contemptuously she spoke. I never
felt so mortified in my life.”
“There is no occasion for feeling so, if your intentions were good,”
answered Mrs. Freeman; “and certainly it must be a relief to you to hear
the other side of the story. Nothing less would have convinced you of
Mrs. White's honesty.”
Mrs. Morris was prevented from replying by the sudden and violent
ringing of the bell, and an instant after the door was thrown open, and
the old lady, whose supposed unhappy condition had called forth their
sympathies, rushed into the room.
“Oh, save me! save me!” she exclaimed, frantically. “I am
pursued,--protect me, for the love of Heaven!”
“Poor creature!” said Mrs. Morris. “You see that I was not mistaken in
this story, at least. There can be no two sides to this.”
“Depend upon it there is,” replied Mrs. Freeman; but she courteously
invited her visiter to be seated, and begged to know what had occasioned
her so much alarm.
The poor lady told a plausible and piteous tale of ill-treatment, and,
indeed, actual abuse. Mrs. Morris listened with a ready ear, and loudly
expressed her horror and indignation. Mrs. Freeman was more guarded.
There was something in the old lady's appearance and manners that
excited an undefinable feeling of fear and aversion. Mrs. Freeman
felt much perplexed as to the course she ought to pursue, and looked
anxiously at the clock to see if the time for her husband's return was
near.
It still wanted nearly two hours, and after a little more consideration
she decided to go herself into the next door, ask for an interview with
the lady of the house, frankly state what had taken place, and demand
an explanation. This resolution she communicated in a low voice to Mrs.
Morris, who opposed it as imprudent and ill-judged.
“Of course they will deny the charge,” she argued, “and by letting them
know where the poor creature has taken shelter, you will again expose
her to their cruelty. Besides, you will get yourself into trouble. My
advice to you is to keep quiet until your husband returns, and then to
assist the poor lady secretly to go to her friends in the country, who
she says will gladly receive her.”
“But I am anxious to hear both sides of the story before I decide to
assist her,” replied Mrs. Freeman.
“Nonsense!” exclaimed her friend. “Even you must see that there cannot
be two sides to this story. There is no possible excuse for cruelty, and
to an inoffensive, aged woman.”
While they were thus consulting together, their visiter regarded them
with a troubled look, and a fierce gleaming eye, which did not, escape
Mrs. Freeman's observation; and just as Mrs. Morris finished speaking,
the maniac sprang upon her, like a tiger on his prey, and, seizing her
by the throat, demanded what new mischief was plotting against her.
The screams of the terrified women drew the attention of the son of
the old lady, who had just discovered her absence, and was hastening in
search of her. At once suspecting the truth, he rushed without ceremony
into his neighbour's house, and speedily rescued Mrs. Morris from her
unpleasant and somewhat dangerous situation. After conveying his mother
to her own room, and consigning her to strict custody, he returned, and
respectfully apologized to Mrs. Freeman for what had taken place.
“His poor mother,” he said, “had for several years been subject to
occasional fits of insanity. Generally she had appeared harmless,
excepting as regarded herself. Unless prevented by force, she would
sometimes beat her own flesh in a shocking manner, uttering at the same
time loud cries and complaints of the abuse of those whom she supposed
to be tormenting her.
“In her lucid intervals she had so earnestly besought them not to place
her in the asylum for the insane, but to continue to bear with her under
their own roof, that they had found it impossible to refuse their solemn
promise to comply with her wishes.
“For themselves, their love for her rendered them willing to bear
with her infirmities, but it should be their earnest care that their
neighbours should not again be disturbed.”
Mrs. Freeman kindly expressed her sympathy and forgiveness for the alarm
which she had experienced, and the gentleman took leave.
Poor Mrs. Morris had remained perfectly silent since her release; but
as the door closed on their visiter, and her friend kindly turned to
inquire how she found herself, she recovered her speech, and exclaimed,
energetically,
“I will never, never say again that there are not two sides to a story.
If I am ever tempted to believe one side without waiting to hear the
other, I shall surely feel again the hands of that old witch upon my
throat.”
“Old witch!” repeated Mrs. Freeman. “Surely she demands our sympathy as
much as when we thought her suffering under ill-treatment. It is indeed
a sad thing to be bereft of reason. But this will be a useful lesson to
both of us: for I will readily acknowledge that in this instance I
was sometimes tempted to forget that there are always 'two sides to a
story.'”