mourning for her brother! Not go to his funeral! However, I suppose she
thinks she has a right to do as she pleases. But, she may depend on it,
people will talk."
Just then a servant came to inform Mrs. Bladen that her husband was
waiting for her in the parlour.
"Well, my dear Mrs. Allerton," said she, as she rose to depart, "we have
not yet settled about the mourning. Of course, you are not going to
adopt Miss Constance's strange whim of wearing none at all."
"What she has said on the subject appears to me very just," replied Mrs.
Allerton.
"Aunt Constance is always right," remarked one of the girls.
"As to Miss Allerton," resumed Mrs. Bladen, "she is well known to be
independent in every sense of the word; and therefore she may do as she
pleases--though she may rest assured that people will talk."
"What people?" asked Mrs. Allerton.
"Everybody--all the world."
Mrs. Allerton thought how very circumscribed was the world in which she
and her family had lived since the date of their fallen fortunes.
"It is well known," pursued Mrs. Bladen, "that Miss Constance is able to
wear mourning if she chooses it. But you may rely on it, Mrs. Allerton,
that if you and your children do not appear in black, people will be
ill-natured enough to say that it is because you cannot afford it.
Excuse my plainness."
"They will say rightly, then," replied Mrs. Allerton, with a sigh. "We
certainly cannot afford it."
"How you talk!" said Mrs. Bladen. "Afford it or not, everybody has to
wear mourning, and everybody does, from the highest down to the lowest.
Even my washerwoman put all her family (that is herself and her six
children) into black when her husband died; notwithstanding that he was
no great loss--for he was an idle, drunken Irishman, and beat them all
round every day of his life. And my cook, a coloured woman, whose
grandfather died in the almshouse a few weeks ago, has as handsome a
suit of mourning as any lady need desire to wear."
"May I request," said Mrs. Allerton, "that you will spare me on this
subject to-night? Indeed I can neither think nor talk about it."
"Well, then," replied Mrs. Bladen, kissing her, "I will hope to find you
better in the morning. I shall be with you immediately after breakfast."
She then took her leave; and Constance, who had been weeping over the
corpse of Mr. Allerton, now returned to the apartment of her
sister-in-law.
Released from the importunities of Mrs. Bladen, our heroine now mildly
and sensibly reasoned with the family on the great inconvenience, and,
as she believed, the unnecessary expense of furnishing themselves with
suits of mourning in their present circumstances. The season was late in
the autumn, and they had recently supplied themselves with their winter
outfit, all of which would now be rendered useless if black must be
substituted. Her arguments had so much effect that Mrs. Allerton, with
the concurrence of her daughters, very nearly promised to give up all
intention of making a general change in their dress. But they found it
harder than they had supposed, to free themselves from the trammels of
custom.
Mrs. Allerton and Constance passed a sleepless night, and the children
"awoke to weep" at an early hour in the morning. They all met in tears
at the breakfast table. Little was eaten, and the table was scarcely
cleared, when Mrs. Bladen came in, followed by two shop boys, one
carrying two rolls of bombazine, and the other two boxes of Italian
crape. Constance had just left the room.
After the first salutations were over, Mrs. Bladen informed Mrs.
Allerton that she had breakfasted an hour earlier than usual, that she
might allow herself more time to go out, and transact the business of
the morning.
"My dear friend," said she, "Mrs. Doubleprice has sent you, at my
request, two pieces of bombazine, that you may choose for yourself.--One
is more of a jet black than the other--but I think the blue black rather
the finest. However, they are both of superb quality, and this season
jet black is rather the most fashionable. I have been to Miss Facings,
the mantua-maker, who is famous for mourning. Bombazines, when made up
by her, have an air and a style about them, such as you will never see
if done by any one else. There is nothing more difficult than to make up
mourning as it ought to be.--I have appointed Miss Facings to meet me
here--I wonder she has not arrived--she can tell you how much is
necessary for the four dresses. If Miss Allerton finally concludes to be
like other people and put on black, I suppose she will attend to it
herself. These very sensible young ladies are beyond my comprehension."
"I am sure," said Helen, "no one is more easy to understand, than my
dear Aunt Constance."
"And here," continued Mrs. Bladen, "is the double-width crape for the
veils. As it is of very superior quality, you had best have it to trim
the dresses, and for the neck handkerchiefs, and to border the black
cloth shawls that you will have to get."
We must remark to our readers, that at the period of our story, it was
customary to trim mourning dresses with a very broad fold of crape,
reaching nearly from the feet to the knees.
Mrs. Allerton on hearing the prices of the crape and bombazine, declared
them too expensive.
"But only look at the quality," persisted Mrs. Bladen, "and you know the
best things are always the cheapest in the end--and, as I told you,
nobody now wears economical mourning."
"We had best wear none of any description," said Mrs. Allerton.
"Ah!" cried Mrs. Bladen, "I see that Miss Constance has been trying
again to make a convert of you. Yet, as you are not Quakers, I know not
how you will be able to show your faces in the world, if you do not put
on black. Excuse me, but innovations on established customs ought only
to be attempted by people of note--by persons so far up in society that
they may feel at liberty to do any out-of-the-way thing with impunity."
"I wish, indeed," said Mrs. Allerton, "that some of those influential
persons would be so public-spirited as to set the example of dispensing
with all customs that bear hard on people in narrow circumstances."
The mantua-maker now made her appearance, and Mrs. Bladen exclaimed,
"Oh! Miss Facings, we have been waiting for you to tell us exactly how
much of everything we are to get."
A long and earnest discussion now took place between Mrs. Bladen and the
dressmaker, respecting the quality and quantity of the bombazine and
crape.
Miss Facings having calculated the number of yards, Mrs. Bladen inquired
if there was no yard-measure in the house. One was produced, and the
measuring commenced forthwith; Mrs. Allerton having no longer energy to
offer any further opposition. She sat with her handkerchief to her face,
and her daughters wept also. Sirs. Bladen stepped up to her, and
whispered, "You are aware that it will not be necessary to pay the bills
immediately."
"Ah!" returned Mrs. Allerton, "I know not when they can be paid. But we
will strain every nerve to do it as soon as possible. I cannot bear the
idea of remaining in debt for this mourning."
Their business being accomplished, the shop-boys departed, and Miss
Facings made her preparations for cutting out the dresses, taking an
opportunity of assuring the weeping girls that nothing was more becoming
to the figure than black bombazine, and that everybody looked their best
in a new suit of mourning.
At this juncture, Constance returned to the room, and was extremely
sorry to find that the fear of singularity, and the officious
perseverance of Mrs. Bladen, had superseded the better sense of her
sister-in-law. But as the evil was now past remedy, our heroine,
according to her usual practice, refrained from any further
animadversions on the subject.
Little Louisa was now brought in to be fitted: and when her frock was
cut out, Constance offered to make it herself, on hearing Miss Facings
declare that she would be obliged to keep her girls up all night to
complete the dresses by the appointed time, as they had already more
work in the house than they could possibly accomplish.
Mrs. Allerton expressed great unwillingness to allowing her
sister-in-law to take the trouble of making Louisa's dress. But
Constance whispered to her that she had always found occupation to be
one of the best medicines for an afflicted mind, and that it would in
some degree prevent her thoughts from dwelling incessantly on the same
melancholy subject. Taking Louisa with her, she retired to her own
apartment, and the frock was completed by next day: though the
overflowing eyes of poor Constance frequently obliged her to lay down
her sewing. In reality, her chief motive in proposing to make the dress,
was to save the expense of having it done by the mantua-maker.
Miss Facings took Mrs. Allerton's gown home with her, saying she would
send one of her girls for the two others; and Mrs. Bladen then began to
plan the bonnets and shawls. She went off to a fashionable milliner, and
engaged a mourning bonnet and four mourning caps for Mrs. Allerton, and
a bonnet for each of her daughters. And she was going back and forwards
nearly all day with specimens of black cloth for the shawls, black
stockings, black gloves, &c.
The girls, at their aunt's suggestion, hemmed the crape veils, and on
the following morning, she assisted them in making and trimming the
shawls. Still, Constance was well convinced that the expense of the
mourning (including the suit bespoken for Frederick) would be greater
than they could possibly afford. The cost of the funeral she intended to
defray from her own funds, and she took occasion to request Mr. Denman
to have nothing about it that should be unnecessarily expensive.
The hour arrived when the sorrowing family of Mr. Allerton were to be
parted for ever from all that remained of the husband, the father, and
the brother. They had taken the last look of his fixed and lifeless
features, they had imprinted the last kiss on his cold and pallid lips;
and from the chamber of death, they had to adjourn to the incongruous
task of attiring themselves in their mourning habits to appear at his
funeral. How bitterly they wept as their friends assisted them in
putting on their new dresses; and when they tied on their bonnets and
their long veils, to follow to his grave the object of their fondest
affection!
Constance, with an almost breaking heart, sat in her chamber, and little
Louisa hung crying on her shoulder, declaring that she could not see her
dear father buried. But Mrs. Bladen came in, protesting that all the
children _must_ be present, and that people would _talk_ if even the
youngest child was to stay away. Mrs. Bladen then put on Louisa's
mourning dress almost by force. When this was done, the little girl
threw her arms round the neck of her aunt and kissed her, saying with a
burst of tears, "When I see you again, my dear dear father will be
covered up in his grave." Mrs. Bladen then led, or rather dragged the
child to the room in which the family were assembled.
Constance threw herself on her bed in a paroxysm of grief. She heard the
slow tread of the company as they came in, and she fancied that she
could distinguish the sound of the lid as it was laid on the coffin, and
the fastening of the screws that closed it for ever. She knew when it
was carried down stairs, and she listened in sympathetic agony to the
sobs of the family as they descended after it. She heard the shutting of
the hearse-door, and the gloomy vehicle slowly rolling off to give
place to the carriages of the mourners. She started up, and casting her
eyes towards an opening in the window-curtain, she saw Mr. Denman
supporting to the first coach the tottering steps of her half-fainting
sister-in-law. She looked no longer, but sunk back on the bed and hid
her face on the pillow. By all that she suffered when indulging her
grief alone and in the retirement of her chamber, she felt how dreadful
it would have been to her, had she accompanied the corpse of her brother
to its final resting-place.
In about an hour the family returned, pale, exhausted, and worn out with
the intensity of their feelings at the grave. And they could well have
dispensed with the company of Mrs. Bladen, who came home and passed the
evening with them; as she foolishly said that people in affliction ought
not to be left to themselves.
After some days the violence of their grief settled into melancholy
sadness: they ceased to speak of him whom they had loved and lost, and
they felt as if they could never talk of him again.
The unfortunate family of Mr. Allerton now began to consider what they
should do for their support. Constance was willing to share with them
her little income even to the last farthing, but it was too small to
enable them all to live on it with comfort. Great indeed are the
sufferings, the unacknowledged and unimagined sufferings of that class
who "cannot dig, and to beg are ashamed"--whose children have been
nursed in the lap of affluence, and who "every night have slept with
soft content about their heads"--who still retain a vivid recollection
of happier times, and who still feel that they themselves are the same,
though all is changed around them.
Such was the condition of the Allerton family. "The world was all before
them where to choose," and so low were now their finances, that it was
necessary they should think and act promptly, and decide at once upon
some plan for their subsistence. Constance proposed a school, but the
house they now occupied was in too remote a place to expect any success.
A lady had already attempted establishing a seminary in the immediate
neighbourhood, but it had proved an entire failure. Mrs. Allerton
thought that in a better part of the town, and in a larger house, they
might have a fair chance of encouragement. But they were now destitute
of the means of defraying the expense of a removal, and of purchasing
such articles of furniture as would be indispensably necessary in a more
commodious dwelling; particularly if fitted up as a school.
Frederick Allerton, who was twelve years old, had just completed his
last quarter at the excellent academy in which he had been a pupil from
early childhood, and it was now found necessary, after paying the bill,
to take him away; as the present situation of the family did not seem to
warrant them in continuing him there any longer. He was, however, very
forward in all his acquirements, having an excellent capacity, and being
extremely diligent. Still it was hard that so promising a boy should be
obliged to stop short, when in a fair way of becoming an extraordinary
proficient in the principal branches appertaining to what is considered
an excellent education. Fortunately, however, a place was obtained for
him in a highly respectable book-store.
There was now a general retrenchment in the expenditures of the Allerton
family. One of their servants was discharged, as they could no longer
afford to keep two--and they were obliged to endure many privations
which were but ill compensated by the idea that they were wearing very
genteel mourning. Again, as they had begun with black, it was necessary
to go through with it. They could not wear their bombazines continually,
and as black ginghams and chintzes are always spoiled by washing, it was
thought better that their common dresses should be of Canton crape, an
article that, though very durable, is at first of no trifling cost.
In the mean time, their only resource seemed to be that of literally
supporting themselves by the work of their hands. Constance undertook
the painful task of going round among their acquaintances, and
announcing their readiness to undertake any sort of needle-work that was
offered to them. Nobody had any work to put out just then. Some promised
not to forget them when they had. Others said they were already suited
with seamstresses. At this time the Ladies' Depository was not in
existence; that excellent establishment, where the feelings of the
industrious indigent who have seen better days are so delicately spared
by the secrecy with which its operations are conducted.
At length a piece of linen was sent to the Allerton family for the
purpose of being made up by them into shirts. And so great was their joy
at the prospect of getting a little money, that it almost absorbed the
painful feelings with which for the first time they employed their
needles in really working for their living.
They all sewed assiduously, little Louisa doing the easiest parts. The
linen was soon made up, and they then obtained another piece, and
afterwards some muslin work. Constance, who was one of the most
indefatigable of women, found time occasionally to copy music, and
correct proof-sheets, and to do many other things by which she was able
to add a little more to the general fund. For a short time, her not
appearing in black excited much conversation among the acquaintances of
the family: but these discussions soon subsided, and after a while
nothing more was said or thought on the subject.
But to pay for the mourning of Mrs. Allerton and her children was a
necessity that pressed heavily on them all, and they dreaded the sound
of the door-bell, lest it should be followed by the presentation of the
bills. The bills came, and were found to be considerably larger than was
anticipated. Yet they were paid in the course of the winter, though with
much difficulty, and at the expense of much comfort. The unfortunate
Allertons rose early and sat up late, kept scanty fires and a very
humble table, and rarely went out of the house, except to church, or to
take a little air and exercise at the close of the afternoon.
Most of their friends dropped off, and the few that seemed disposed to
continue their acquaintance with people whose extreme indigence was no
secret, were so thoughtless as to make their visits in the morning, a
time which is never convenient to families that cannot afford to be
idle. Mrs. Bladen, who, though frivolous and inconsiderate, was really a
good-natured woman, came frequently to see them; and another of their
visiters was Mrs. Craycroft, whose chief incentive was curiosity to see
how the Allertons were going on, and a love of dictation which induced
her frequently to favour them with what she considered salutary counsel.
Mrs. Craycroft was a hard, cold, heartless woman, who by dint of the
closest economy had helped her husband to amass a large fortune, and
they now had every sort of luxury at their command. The Craycrofts as
well as the Bladens had formerly been neighbours of Mr. and Mrs.
Allerton.
Mrs. Bladen and Mrs. Craycroft happened to meet one morning in Mrs.
Allerton's little sitting-room. Mrs. Craycroft came in last, and Mrs.
Bladen, after stopping for a few minutes, pursued her discourse with her
usual volubility. It was on the subject of Mrs. Allerton and her
daughter getting new pelisses, or coats as they are more commonly called
in Philadelphia.
"I can assure you," said she, "now that the weather has become so cold,
people talk about your going to church in those three-cornered
cloth-shawls, which you know are only single, and were merely intended
for autumn and spring. They did very well when you first got them (for
the weather was then mild), but the season is now too far advanced to
wear shawls of any sort. You know everybody gets their new coats by
Christmas, and it is now after New-Year's."
"We would be very glad to have coats," replied Mrs. Allerton, "but they
are too expensive."
"Not so very," answered Mrs. Bladen. "To be sure, fine black cloth or
cassimere is the most fashionable for mourning coats. But many very
genteel people wear black levantine or black mode trimmed with crape.
Handsome silk coats would scarcely cost above twenty or twenty-five
dollars apiece."
"We cannot afford them," said Mrs. Allerton. "We must only refrain from
going out when the weather is very cold. I acknowledge that our shawls
are not sufficiently warm."
"Did you not all get new olive-coloured silk coats, just before Mr.
Allerton died?" inquired Mrs. Craycroft.
The abrupt mention of a name which they had long since found it almost
impossible to utter, brought tears into the eyes of the whole family.
There was a general silence, and Mrs. Bladen rose to depart, saying, "I
would recommend to you to get the coats as soon as possible, or the
winter will be over without them. And I can assure you as a friend, that
people do make their remarks. I am going into Second street; shall I
look among the best stores for some black levantine? or would you rather
have mode? But I had best bring you patterns of both: and shall I call
on Miss Facings and bespeak her to make the coats for you?"
"We thank you much," replied Mrs. Allerton, "but we will not give you
the trouble either to look for the silk, or to engage the mantua-maker.
We must for this winter dispense with new coats."
Mrs. Bladen then took her leave, saying, "Well, do as you please, but
people think it very strange that you should be still wearing your
shawls, now that the cold weather has set in."
Constance was glad that Mrs. Bladen had not in this instance carried
her point. But she grieved to think that her sister and nieces could not
have the comfort of wearing their coats because the olive-colour did not
comport with their mourning bonnets. For herself, having made no attempt
at mourning, Constance had no scruple as to appearing in hers.
When Mrs. Bladen was gone, Mrs. Craycroft spoke again, and said, "I
wonder how people can be so inconsiderate! But Mrs. Bladen never could
see things in their proper light. She ought to be ashamed of giving you
such advice. Now, I would recommend to you to have your olive silk coats
ripped apart, and dyed black, and then you can make them up again
yourselves. You know that if you were not in mourning, you might wear
them as they are; but as you have begun with black, I suppose it would
never do to be seen in coloured things also."
"I believe," replied Mrs. Allerton, "there is generally much trouble in
getting articles dyed--at least in this city, and that they are
frequently spoiled in the process."
"Your informants," said Mrs. Craycroft, "must have been peculiarly
unlucky in their dyers. I can recommend you to Mr. Copperas, who does
things beautifully, so that they look quite as good as new. He dyes for
Mrs. Narrowskirt and for Mrs. Dingy. I advise you by all means to send
your coats to him. And no doubt you have many other things, now lying by
as useless, that would be serviceable if dyed black."
"I believe I will take your advice," answered Mrs. Allerton.