CHAPTER XIX.
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.