A DISAPPOINTMENT.
The answer received by Albertson from Eunice, was promptly responded
to, and the privilege of visiting her at her father’s house asked; but
she replied,
“Not yet. My father is in trouble, and doubt hangs over his business,
small as it is. It requires all my efforts to inspire him with
confidence. I do not wish him, just at this time, to think that my
affections are divided. And, besides, your appearance may remind him
too strongly of other and more prosperous days. A little while longer;
only a little while longer. Misfortune is changing him, and the change
is altogether favorable to our wishes.”
Not long after this, an accidental meeting took place, in which Eunice
made her lover clearly comprehend her position. Admiration for her
filial virtues overcame, from that time, all impatience.
“She will be the more fully mine,” he said; “and purer and brighter for
the trials through which she has passed.”
After that, they corresponded regularly, and occasionally met.
While the fortunes of Mr. Townsend had rapidly declined, those of the
young man he had treated so rudely had rapidly improved. The business
of Jones, Claire, & Co. doubled itself in a single year, and had gone
on increasing almost in a similar ratio. The interest in it held by
Albertson was, therefore, a very profitable one.
Two months after the last removal, Eunice noticed that her father had
again become unusually serious. This led her to inquire of him as to
the state of his business.
“I have no reason to despond in regard to business,” he said, “taking
all things into consideration. If I could only meet a payment of twelve
hundred dollars that falls due in a few days, I believe every thing
would go on smoothly enough. This is the last of my guarantied sales
to the house, by the failure of which I lost ten thousand dollars. My
name is on the note, and when it is returned protested, I must take it
up. But how this is to be done, I cannot tell.”
“Help has come heretofore in extremity, father, and I am sure it will
come now.”
“But where is it to come from, child? Heaven knows; I do not. I have
struggled up to this point, and overcome many difficulties, but this
seems likely to overwhelm me. I sometimes think, Eunice, that I am
mocked of Providence.”
“Dear father! do not permit such a thought to find place in your mind
for an instant. It is not so; it cannot be so. These trials are for
your good. We all suffer with you, and we shall all be better in the
end, for our suffering. I feel that I am better, and that my after
life will be a happier and more useful life in consequence. Our real
good, you know, father, does not lie in our worldly possessions or
prosperity; and the failure of our worldly expectations is often but a
salutary reaction upon our natural affections, when too intently fixed
upon mere natural things. Still have confidence, father; still believe
that all will come out right in the end. Even the failure to meet this
payment may not prove so great an evil as you now fear it will be.”
Thus Eunice sought to inspire her father with confidence, and
succeeded in doing so for the moment, but he soon sunk back again
into despondency. His mind had not sufficient power to rise above the
pressure of present circumstances.
On the next day, Eunice, while alone with her sister, said to her, “I
mentioned to you last night, the cause of father’s looking so troubled.”
“Yes; and I have been thinking about it ever since.”
“Has any thing suggested itself?”
“Yes. There is my diamond breast-pin. It might be sold. It’s poor
brother John’s present, and I shall grieve to part with it. But, if he
could know the reason of its being sold, I am sure he would approve the
act.”
“How closely, side by side, run our thoughts,” said Eunice, smiling.
“I have determined to sell my beautiful rosewood piano, also brother
John’s present. It cost a thousand dollars; and I think I ought to get
at least five or six hundred for it. It is quite as good as new.”
“For the breast-pin and piano, we ought to receive a thousand
dollars,” replied Eveline, with a brightening face. “Father only wants
twelve hundred. If he have a thousand, the additional two hundred will
not be hard to obtain.”
“I don’t know that we shall get so much as a thousand dollars for the
piano and breast-pin, although they are worth more. I think we had
better add our watches, and some other articles of jewelry, to make
sure of the sum we desire to obtain.”
“I am ready to throw in every thing that I have in the way of jewelry,”
said Eveline. “But how are these things to be sold?”
“That’s the most difficult part of the business. The piano, I suppose,
had better go to the auction store where our surplus furniture was
sold. How the jewelry is to be disposed of, I do not know, unless it is
offered at some of the stores where they deal in such articles.”
“Whether they will buy or not is the question. All are ready enough to
sell.”
“Yes, selling is their business. But, gold and diamonds have a certain
value in themselves, and, I suppose, will always bring it.”
After some further consultation on the subject, it was determined to
carry out, as far as possible, these mutual suggestions. But, causes
not easily overcome, prevented the execution of their designs on that
day, and it was, therefore, postponed until the next.
Early in the day, Eunice, after apprising her mother of what she
intended doing, went out and procured porters, who were directed to
take her piano to the auction store of Trist & Lee. Willing as Eveline
was to make her part of the sacrifice, in order to sustain her father,
she shrunk from the exposure of an attempt to sell her jewelry, and,
therefore, the whole task fell upon Eunice, who nerved herself to its
performance by thinking of her parent’s extremity. Modest and retiring
as she was, the thought of exposing herself among men, in places of
business, as a vender of goods, made her heart beat low in her bosom.
But she thrust this thought from her mind with an effort, and went
forth with a firm step, to do what she felt to be her duty for that
day--and this feeling sustained her.
When Eunice arrived at the auction rooms, she found them crowded with
men. A sale was in progress. She retired quickly, and went back home,
where she waited for a couple of hours. At her second visit, the rooms
were empty. On asking for one of the firm, she was pointed to Mr. Lee,
who bowed politely as she approached him.
“I sent a piano here, this morning,” she said, in a low, trembling
voice, at the same time drawing her veil over her face, to hide the
crimson that was overspreading it. She was less composed than she had
hoped to be.
“The beautiful rosewood piano?” asked the auctioneer.
“Yes, sir.” Eunice spoke more firmly.
“You wish it sold, I presume?”
“Yes, sir.”
“It’s a very beautiful instrument.” As Mr. Lee said this, he turned and
walked toward the part of the store where the piano stood, and Eunice
walked with him.
“A very beautiful instrument,” he repeated, as he opened it, and ran
his fingers over the keys; “and a high-priced one, too. I suppose it
didn’t cost less than six or seven hundred dollars.”
“A thousand were paid for it.”
“Indeed! So much! Do you wish it sold at public or private sale?”
“In which ever way it can be sold quickest and best,” replied Eunice.
“It can be sold quickest at public sale, but best at private sale. How
much do you expect to receive for it?”
“I think it ought to bring five or six hundred dollars. It is not in
the least defaced, or injured in tone.”
“I am sorry to say,” returned the auctioneer, who really felt grieved
for the disappointment he knew his words would occasion, “that we
shall not be able to get any thing like that sum for the instrument.
Three hundred dollars will be a maximum price, and it may bring less
if it goes under the hammer. Persons who come to auction for pianos,
generally have a low price in their minds, and cannot be tempted to go
much beyond it, no matter how superior the article may be.”
“When is your next sale?” asked Eunice, in a voice whose huskiness the
auctioneer perceived with regret.
“Not for a week.”
“Indeed!” Eunice spoke in a disappointed tone. “I must have the money
for it sooner than that.”
“You do not want it to-day, do you?”
“Yes; to-day, if possible. How much could you advance me upon it?”
“It is your own instrument?”
Eunice hesitated a moment, and then said, with an effort at composure,
“Yes, sir. But I am compelled to part with it.”
“I do not think we would be willing to advance more than a hundred
dollars.”
“A hundred dollars!” The tone of her voice betrayed the surprise and
disappointment Eunice felt. “Can’t you advance me a larger sum?”
“I should not like to say more at present,” replied Lee; “but if you
will call this afternoon, between four and five o’clock, I will see if
something better cannot be done.”
Eunice was retiring, when he said, “Miss Townsend, I believe?”
“Yes, sir, that is the name.” And Eunice again drew her veil over her
face, and quickly retired, feeling sadly disappointed.
She next called at the store of a jeweler, with the diamond pin,
watches, bracelets, etc. Here a bitterer disappointment awaited her.
The jeweler refused either to buy or advance, merely offering to place
the goods in his case for sale, and appearing indifferent about that.
His manner, moreover, Eunice felt to be very disagreeable.
There was too much at stake for utter discouragement to succeed to this
failure of the self-devoted girl’s ardent wishes. At the next store
where she applied, she met with a kinder reception, but with no better
success. The owner of it discouraged her from making further attempts
at selling these articles, and alarmed her by hinting that suspicion
might attach to her, and involve her in some unpleasant difficulties.
The anxious desire she felt to realize some money upon the diamond pin
and watches, caused her to urge the jeweler strongly to advance one or
two hundred dollars upon them, but he firmly declined doing so.
Eveline and her mother awaited the return of Eunice in doubt and hope.
A gush of tears told the story of her ill success.
“Only a hundred dollars!” said Eveline, after her sister had grown calm
enough to relate what had occurred. “That will be nothing. It can do
father no good.”
This all felt so oppressively that nothing was replied. More than an
hour passed, before the minds of the deeply-disappointed mother and
daughters recovered in any degree from the depression into which the
attempts to dispose of the piano and jewelry had thrown them. They had
counted so fully upon obtaining a sum sufficient to meet the present
want, that the failure to realize any thing above a mere trifle,
compared to what was needed, broke down their spirits completely. The
case seemed hopeless. At last, Eunice, whose mind was always first to
react, said,
“Perhaps I may be able to get two hundred dollars on the piano. The
auctioneer appeared inclined to meet my wishes for a larger sum than he
at first offered, but he had, I suppose, to consult others. Two hundred
dollars may be of great service to father. A little is always better
than nothing. And now it occurs to me, that there are stores where they
lend money on deposits of jewelry and other articles. Without doubt,
a couple of hundred dollars could be obtained on Eveline’s pin, and a
hundred dollars on the watch and other things. This, on the supposition
that two hundred dollars are obtained on the piano, will give us five
hundred dollars, which must be a great help to father.”
“But you must remember,” said the mother, “that the pin and watches
will be forfeited, at the expiration of a certain time, if the money
borrowed upon them is not returned; and the possibility of returning
the amount is very doubtful. It would not do to sell Eveline’s costly
pin for two hundred dollars.”
“If the sacrifice will save father’s business, it will be cheaply
made,” replied Eveline, quickly.
“But of that we are not sure,” said Mrs. Townsend. “Five hundred
dollars may not be enough. He has, you know, twelve hundred to pay.
Under these circumstances, I think it would be wrong to run the risk of
losing property worth eight or nine hundred dollars, in order to obtain
two or three hundred.”
In this view, the daughters could not but acquiesce. Soon after, Mr.
Townsend came home to dinner, looking even more troubled than he had
looked in the morning. He endeavored to rally himself in the presence
of his family, but was unable to do so to any great extent. Eveline and
Eunice tried to be cheerful, but the events of the morning were too
vividly present to their minds. Mr. Townsend did not sit over half his
usual time at the table, and left the house much earlier than usual.
“Something must be done!” Eveline ejaculated, rising from the table
soon after her father had retired.
“What can be done?” asked the mother.
“There are many other stores in the city than the two to which I
applied. I feel certain that I can sell them somewhere. At least, I
am determined to try, if I visit every jeweler’s store in the city.
Father must have aid in this, his last extremity. We have the means in
our hands of affording the aid he needs, and the means must be rendered
available.”
Eunice spoke with enthusiasm and confidence while her cheeks glowed and
her eyes sparkled.
Neither Eveline nor her mother said a word to check the newly-awakened
hope that warmed her bosom, but rather replied in words of
encouragement, although they felt little themselves.
Acting from this new impulse, which the distressed state of her
father’s mind had awakened, Eunice dressed herself and went out on the
errand proposed, about an hour after he had returned to his store.
“I hope it may do some good,” said the mother, despondingly; “but I
expect no such result, although I would not have said so to discourage
Eunice for the world. Poor girl! She is doing all she can, and
sacrificing much. It is sad to think it will all be in vain.”
“It may not be, mother,” returned Eveline. “There is no telling what
her perseverance may accomplish. Is it not said, that where there is a
will there is a way?”
“It is; but all sayings are not true.”
“No; not to the full extent. But a saying like this means a great deal.
The will inspires to effort, and effort does not always go unrewarded.”
“I fear it will in this case; there is so little in favor of a
hoped-for result.”
“It seems to me there is much, mother,” replied Eveline, appearing
to gain confidence, while her mother desponded. “It is not possible
that such earnest self-devotion as Eunice manifests can go unrewarded.
Heaven must smile upon it.”
“I pray that Heaven may smile upon it,” said Mrs. Townsend, fervently.
“Heaven will smile upon it.” Eveline’s voice trembled, and the tears
came, unbidden, to her eyes.
An hour had not gone by since Eunice went out, and Eveline and her
mother still sat as she had left them, feeling no inclination to do
any thing, or even to converse after the few remarks her departure
had elicited, when they heard the street door open, and her feet come
bounding along the passage, and up the stairs. There was hope, even
joy in the sound of those footsteps, that sent a thrilling sensation
through the breasts of the waiting mother and sister. An instant
after, and the door of the room where they were sitting was thrown
open, and Eunice, flushed and agitated, sprung forward, and sinking
down beside her mother, buried her face in her lap, and sobbed and
laughed half hysterically. It was some time before she was able to
control her feelings sufficiently to tell the good fortune the reader
has already anticipated for her. For the jewelry, she had received
eight hundred dollars; and for the piano, seven hundred--fifteen
hundred dollars in all.