Harper's New Monthly Magazine. No. XVI.—September, 1851—Vol. III

"It certainly does become you exceedingly, Miss Leslie."

"Yes, I do wish I could buy it. Just show me that straw again, will you? Dear me, I wish I had not seen the silk one; this seems so large and dowdy. Thirty-five shillings, and this will be – "

"One pound six, full trimmed, ma'am; and after all, it is but a second bonnet, certainly not a dress one."

"Oh, I know that, but then the price – you see the difference is so very great."

"Thirteen shillings; but it is quite made up for by the quality of the goods. This is a Paris-made bonnet; I had it sent me for a pattern; it would be two guineas to any but a customer. I really have made a considerable reduction, Miss Leslie; now if I might advise – "

"It is a sweet, pretty thing, so lady-like and quiet, but I told papa I should spend about a pound, and I don't think I ought to go so very far beyond: these flowers in the inside suit me so well; however, I'll decide on the straw, Mrs. Grey."

"I'll tell you what, Miss Leslie, I should like you to have this bonnet; I thought of you the moment I saw it; I have quite kept it for you. Besides, it is a pity you should lose such a dead bargain. Why, see, ma'am, what a lovely silk it is! and these flowers – real French flowers; why, it will do up again quite fresh next summer. Now, if you like, the bill shall go in to your papa as a pound, or say three-and-twenty shillings, and you can make up the difference to me at your convenience."

"I should like to do so, and certainly no one who is a judge can call this bonnet dear at thirty-five shillings; it never was made for the money."

"Oh, dear no, Miss Leslie, it costs me more; shall I send it in? Would you like me to add the pelerine you were admiring? Now I call that a very useful thing, that and the cuffs to match are so complete; I think you had better have them: I need not press them on any one, they are so exquisitely bee-youtiful; but I can't help taking the liberty of advising a lady like yourself, Miss Leslie, and an old customer. I think you said you were going into the country; now people like to be dressy away from home. You could not get such goods at that figure at any other establishment, and you will find them so very convenient."

Constance Leslie hesitated. "The woman who hesitates is lost;" the temptation was great, the things were certainly becoming; a certain birthday gift was in expectation; the economical arguments were very specious. She yielded; and against her better judgment consented to the milliner's plan. She was but a girl – let that plead in her favor; but there are women, wives, and mothers, who condescend to this meanness, who systematically deceive their husbands in this matter, and yet profess to love and revere them; who, involved in debt themselves, rail at the artifice and extravagance of their servants, who, while their whole life is a subterfuge, affect horror at falsehood. Oh! did they but know how contemptible such conduct is; how maid and trader despise them! Their husbands believe them – how can they doubt a wife's truth? but to others the lie is transparent! and often an insolvent is supposed to have been cognizant of extravagances which his misfortunes alone revealed to him. And for what do they weave a tissue of untruths? for what do they tremble at the slightest word or glance which may betray their secret? From the most paltry and frivolous motives – often from mere thoughtlessness.

To return to my story. It is time I should properly introduce Miss Leslie to my readers. She was an only daughter, having long lost her mother, and had for years been her father's housekeeper. He was of that most unfortunate class – a poor man bound to hide his poverty and preserve certain appearances. Strict economy was necessary to effect this; and hitherto Constance had aided him well, indeed. He was rather proud of the tact with which she made the most of their narrow income; for she had good taste and good sense, and these united achieve wonders. There was no attempt at display; but all was in such good keeping, the whole was so respectable, that few suspected their limited means. Mr. Leslie's income was so fluctuating, that he was strict on one point only: he would incur no bills on any pretext whatever; beyond this, Constance was uncontrolled, and laid out his funds as she pleased. Her brothers were growing up, and had to be pushed forward in the world; the well-doing of the whole family seemed at present to depend on the father's position. Now, when the force of appearances is not carried further than this, should we blame it? We are all bound to lay out our money to the best advantage; an appearance of easy means, when not based on debt, most frequently leads to the reality. The world can only judge by what it sees – good broadcloth invariably attracts respect, and it is of high importance to young people having their way to make in the world, that their home should stand well with it. Mr. Leslie made no pretensions to riches; he merely endeavored to hide his want of them, and succeeded.

"That's a very smart bonnet of yours, Constance; I hope you have not gone beyond your stint – "

"Only a few shillings, papa."

She thus evaded, as she thought, a direct falsehood, well knowing all the while that fifteen shillings were far from being "a few" to them.

"It is a very great bargain, and Mrs. Grey advised it, as it will last two summers with care."

"Well, well, don't look so annoyed about it, my dear; a shilling or two, more or less, breaks no squares; but the fact is, I am rather sorry you have chosen such a dashing affair. I have had one or two losses lately, as is well known in the room, and your bonnet may be remarked on."

Constance's tears now flowed freely; but she dared not confess her fault.

"Never mind, my love, we are no worse off than our neighbors. Indeed, I should not have mentioned this, only it will guide you in your purchases and in your behavior at your uncle's. I was obliged to ask a little assistance from him respecting Edward's premium, and this last pull has prevented my paying him at the promised time. I gave him a bill, and could not take it up; but I have left off part of my office, and shall soon be all right again."

"Oh, papa, you will be so uncomfortable without a private room."

"I must not think of that, child; in fact, I don't require a double office; there's the expense, two fires to keep up; and all that's quite unnecessary now Harding is gone."

"Harding gone, papa!"

"Yes; I find I can manage without him, by doing a little extra writing at home; and until things come round a little, we must all pull up in every possible way. But, remember, I wish, for your brothers' sakes, to do the thing as quietly as we can. I am not ruined; but a whisper either way would smash me at once – and the boys' credit depends on mine."

Poor Constance! and it was at this very moment, when retrenchment was so necessary, and her father was not only curtailing his personal expenses, but redoubling his exertions, that she had incurred a trumpery debt – trumpery in amount, but large to her – for mere superfluities. She could not return her bonnet, she had worn it; she was afraid to speak to Mrs. Grey about the other articles she had sent in; for, despite her exceeding oiliness of manner, Constance felt she was a person who would never concede a single point to her own disadvantage. The bill had not yet made its appearance, and she waited its arrival in fear and trembling; for Mrs. Grey had chosen to make some indispensable additions; and though she sent a message apologizing for not having mentioned them, and saying that they would be merely a trifle, her unfortunate customer felt a strong presentiment that she would be victimized. Besides, having once yielded to temptation and set her bill "a-going," she fancied she might as well let the whole sum be booked, and had already expended the five-and-twenty shillings set aside for her bonnet on different trifling objects, not absolutely wanted, and which she had scrupulously dispensed with till now that she had these few unoccupied shillings. The coveted bonnet at once lost all its charms; it was now positively hateful; and she set forth on her visit to her country-friends with a heart sadly at variance with her gay apparel.

Her aunt and uncle Appleton had been rather inconvenienced by Mr. Leslie's dishonored bill. People who are not in business can scarcely make allowance for the difficulties of commerce; they can not understand its inextricable links, nor how sometimes a mere change of wind may seriously embarrass the struggling trader. They had also sometimes disapproved of their brother's style of living; and, though kind, warm-hearted people, having once assisted him, thought they had purchased a right to find fault and dictate, and to this he could not submit. If there was a subject on which he was irritable, it was respecting Constance. She was an accomplished girl, and some of the wiseacres who delight in laying down the law had chosen to wonder why "she was not earning her bread and assisting her family;" overlooking the fact that in managing her father's house and adding to his comforts, she was of material service. A woman in the struggling middle ranks who really does her duty, but rarely eats the bread of idleness, even when ostensibly unemployed; and Constance had toiled incessantly to promote Mr. Leslie's views. Again: there is a kind of prejudice respecting women's employment; weak, cruel, senseless though it is, we can not step from our privacy without virtually degrading ourselves; hence, governessing is the decayed gentlewoman's last resource; and is it to be wondered at, that, knowing the light in which milliners or even governesses are regarded, Mr. Leslie should strain every nerve to screen his daughter from that trial? Of course he was blamed, called proud and speculative, all sorts of evils were predicted as the consequence; but he laughed at these occasional preachings, and pursued the tenor of his way.

Constance's dressy purchases were thus woefully ill-timed; her aunt was far too good a judge to believe a pound would buy such a bonnet, nor did her niece attempt to deceive her; this was but fresh confirmation of "my brother's ridiculous extravagance. Constance dressed up like a girl of fortune – it is really too bad. He has no right to squander other people's money in this way; it is almost dishonest, and I shall give her a good set-down."

The set-down came, and this time unaccompanied by the annual present on which the poor girl had depended; and as the Appletons chose to make a sort of parade of poverty just then, her smart clothes were more conspicuous. Never had she spent such a miserable six weeks; her temper gave way beneath self-reproach and her aunt's nagging, and she had the misery of feeling that she had widened the breach between her father and relations, who, after all, were kindly, nay, generously disposed toward him.

But little comfort awaited her on her return home. Business was still very flat, and her brother's expenses had unavoidably increased; her father was looking haggard and care-worn. There, too, lay Mrs. Grey's bill, the total five pounds. A mist came before her eyes; it was long before the first sickening feeling was over, and she had courage to read the items. Two guineas for the bonnet! that must be a mistake. She flew to have it rectified.

"I am sure you told me thirty-five shillings, Mrs. Grey."

"Certainly, Miss Leslie; but, of course, I was speaking of ready-money payments. You know I must make a difference where parties require credit. I am always very glad to accommodate a customer, and the bonnet is cheap at fifty shillings."

"But the cap, and the voilette – I never ordered them, and you charge them thirty shillings more."

"Why you see, ma'am, they make the whole so complete, so suitable, I thought it was a pity not to put them in – you know you could have returned them if they were not approved of."

"But you sent to say it would be but a trifle more."

"No more is it, Miss Leslie. Why the lace is dirt-cheap at that price; and it will wash up and trim a straw bonnet – wash and wear forever; as for the bill, pray don't make yourself uneasy about it; you can take your own time – pay me at your convenience."

What could Constance do? She had not five shillings to dispose of; and, fearing to annoy her father, or cause some inquiry, had foolishly allowed him to suppose she had received her usual present from aunt Appleton; she had even diverted some of the housekeeping money to make her accustomed presents to her father and brothers, their share of her birthday gift. The sigh with which Mr. Leslie accepted her little offering smote her severely; it told how much more grateful he would have felt had she thrown it into the weekly allowance.

Five pounds seems but a very small sum, but when it is to be saved up by pence its magnitude increases fearfully; it is almost a hopeless undertaking. Constance was now fairly immersed in that slough of despond, debt; for instead of paying away her money regularly, and in order, it was here a little and there a little. Her life was a perfect scramble; a perpetual staving off, while her small bills accumulated. Mrs. Grey had her now completely in her power; she was obliged to supply herself from her, at credit prices, having always forestalled her income, and though constantly endeavoring to economize, and in essentials scarcely so well dressed as in former times, her expenses were at least doubled.

Having acquired the habit of running up bills, it required more strength of mind than she possessed to dispense with a hundred little superfluities, that, had she been obliged to pay for them on the spot, would have been instantly relinquished; but as is too often the case, while the money still glittered in her purse, she forgot the numerous calls she was preparing for it. Nor did the mischief end here; she was no longer able to pay her servants' wages; they became sulky, then saucy; the work was neglected, provisions wasted; and yet she neither could nor dared discharge them, so much did she fear her father's learning her heavy arrears. These annoyances, and constant corroding anxieties, brought on a low nervous fever; change of scene and air were ordered, but these could not be obtained without expense; and this, and the dread of any discovery during her absence, quite nullified the good effects of the prescription. Her debts had gradually, though almost imperceptibly amounted to about fifty pounds, a sum she had no present means of paying; she had learned to tremble at the sound of a single knock, and, by contemptible excuses, and frivolous pretexts for delay, was slowly undermining her father's credit.

It is a long time ere the "master" awakes to the feeling that his home is uncomfortable, or is aware of all that goes on within it, especially if he be in business. He hurries away in the morning, and ere he returns at evening things have assumed a kind of company aspect; besides, habit throws a vail over many discrepancies a stranger can easily perceive. Constance's wretched health also accounted for many errors of management; and Mr. Leslie, generally a keen, shrewd man, was blind to the state of his domestic affairs. His daughter worked so hard to retrieve her lost ground; his and his sons' linen was mended almost beyond comfort; he had discovered her busy fabricating pretty knick-knacks for which she hoped to obtain an unsuspected sale; he felt as if it would seem brutal to pry into her economy. Poor thing, she answered all the advertisements by which "ladies and gentlemen are offered an income of two pounds a week, while practicing an elegant accomplishment," but the papier maché and earthen stamping trade were already overstocked with workers; she only increased her difficulties by the outlay.

At this crisis, when at her wits' end, an unexpected haven appeared. She was a pretty, lady-like girl; and Allan Macdonald, a young merchant, and a rising man, chose to fall in love with her. There are many different reasons for accepting a man besides simply loving him; some girls are afraid of dying old maids; others do not know how to say "no;" others are ambitious; others mercenary; others wish to please papa and mamma; and others wish to spite some particular friend. Constance married from none of these causes; she loved – no, liked, respected Allan, and felt grateful for his preference; but her prevailing feeling was that the wedding would keep her out of her difficulties. There would be the money for her trousseau, and of course presents from her relations; and out of these she could surely squeeze enough to clear the greater part, if not all her debts. Allan, too, would be sure to make her a liberal allowance, and she could save something from that; once free, it would be a lesson for life.

Things seldom turn out exactly as we expect. The presents made her, though handsome, could not be turned to account; work-tables and silver tea-pots are not very serviceable in a lady's wardrobe; and though her father had strained every nerve, he did not give her more than one half of what she had reckoned on. She ventured to petition for more.

"Tut tut, Constance! Macdonald knows exactly how I am situated, that I really am very much hampered, for I have no concealments from him; he is not the fellow to go rummaging over his wife's drawers, or to refuse her a new gown when she wants it. Of course I wish you to be respectable, and what you have now will set you out as well as any child of mine need be; more, in my present circumstances, would be improper."

She was silenced. Her means were all absorbed in paying off the driblets she owed in all directions, but yet there were comparatively large sums remaining. She spoke to the tradespeople, "the expenses of her wedding, &," the excuse seemed reasonable, though some were inclined to wonder why Mr. Leslie left this disagreeable task to his daughter, and, as they wished to secure Mrs. Macdonald's future custom, they were exceedingly forbearing. Mrs. Grey alone remained; the wedding clothes must be supplied by her now, although Constance, anticipating so much more money, had already announced that they would not, as "she did not like her style." This report had evidently reached her, and she received her customer's explanation with a mortifying air of civil disbelief; but when Constance began to explain her errand, and hesitatingly ask for credit, "It is so very awkward, Mrs. Grey; but gentlemen can not understand these things: papa can not see why I should like to have a little money in hand, but you must know what you felt yourself."

"Oh, to be sure, Miss Leslie; but men can't see these things. I should have dropped before I could have asked Grey for money, when first we were married – it's unknown what I suffered, you know I can send the bill into Mr. Leslie by-and-by."

"Why, I would rather – I think it would be better for me to pay you: papa might be vexed."

"Well, then, ma'am, shall I make out the account to you? Mr. Leslie has nothing to do with it – it is quite between ourselves."

"That would be much the best way, if you have no objection, Mrs. Grey."

"Oh, not the slightest; perhaps you will look at these silks."

A very handsome outfit, far better than Constance had even contemplated, was now ordered, and all her prospects seemed brightening around her. She was indeed a happy woman as she entered her new home, and Allan fondly welcomed her to it on their return from their bridal trip. She had married him without strong affection, but their intimate communion brought out the more amiable points of his character; she had learned his worth, she confided in his manly affection, and each day increased her love for him – not even her father was more dear to her. There was but one speck on the horizon: book-keeping was her husband's hobby; though far from mean, he was naturally frugal; he was as proud of her housewifery accomplishments as of her more brilliant acquirements; her father had often vaunted them, and he liked to prove for how little she could provide their liberal table. Therefore he insisted on every item being set down and carried to the weekly expenditure: he had drawn up a set of books for her use, and was delighted to see how well she kept them.

"There's nothing like black and white, Constance, depend on it; when a woman knows exactly what her expenses are she need never go beyond her income, unless she's a born natural."

There was an end to all the schemes of "cabbage" by which she had hoped to make Allan pay his father-in-law's debts; it was evident that he would see how every penny was laid out, and that nothing short of deliberate falsehood – of which she was then incapable – would mislead him. At length, driven to desperation by the importunities of one or two pressing creditors, she ventured to ask for a few pounds for herself.

"For yourself, my darling! – what can you mean?"

"Why, dear, isn't my meaning plain enough? I mean my pin-money, Mr. Macdonald," and she tried to laugh off her confusion and his surprise.

"Your pin-money, Constance! Why what is all I give you but that? Is it not enough? – take more; but separate purses separate interests, that's my opinion."

"My dear Allan!"

"Yes, why should you or any woman have your private purse? I have none from you, Constance."

"But then a fixed sum is so much more comfortable."

"How so? we have already settled what our expenses should be – your pretty little books here show that you do not exceed the average we struck, my wee wifey; what more would you have? Are we not one, Constance? When you want money ask for it, do what you will with it; if you are over the mark one month, we can pull up the next. I throw all our expenditure in common, you see, tailor and all; I won't buy a waistcoat even without giving you the chance of lecturing if you've a mind; if we find we have all along been within our limit, why we'll make each other a present, or have a jaunt; but in heaven's name, Constance, don't talk to me of your own purse. I've seen enough of that – no, no, let's be open, let's have no concealments or privacies of any sort."

She was so disappointed at this unexpected refusal that she could not restrain her tears, and Allan looked very rueful and uncomfortable at the sight. He had a mixture of feelings; he did not like to see his pretty Constance weep, but it was rather gratifying than otherwise to his marital pride, that his displeasure, or the fear of it, should create such emotion; so in a half-penitent, half-pacha like temper he set himself about consoling his mourning bride. He felt that according to his convictions he was right, but feared he had not gone rightly to work.

"I must not give up, that's positive," he thought; "but, poor dear girl, how sorry she is to have vexed me. I must be a brute; I dare say she wants a new dress or two now we're going out so much; old Leslie told me he could not do as much as he wished for her."

Acting on this idea, he proceeded to kiss away her tears.

"Come, Constance, darling, you must not be angry with me – I'll be bound you want some finery for Dawson's ball; why did you not say so at once, you silly girl? There, tell me how much will be necessary – but I dare say you don't exactly know yourself; take this, dear one, and mind I expect to see my wifey the best dressed, as well as the prettiest woman in the room. There, kiss and be friends, Con.; I have one favor to ask, my love; I wish you'd take any thing you want from Green's, they can put a thing or two in my way sometimes."

The clog accompanying Allan's generous gift made it scarcely a relief to her; but those bills must be paid, and though she knew he would expect to see the sum accounted for, she could not comply with his wishes. He felt annoyed at this; why should she not say how she had laid out his present? At the same time other discrepancies forced themselves on his notice, and made him most uncomfortable. He was more grieved than angry, however. His wife had certainly not made any purchases at Green's, although he had not only requested it, but explained his reasons – nay more she was not as handsomely attired at the ball as he could have wished; he had felt that from the first, and was more inclined to admire her moderation than grumble at her appearance; but his sister had further and accidentally enlightened him. Constance's was only an old dress re-trimmed; if so, where was that money? Her books besides, though apparently very accurately kept, presented increased expenses, while his table was not so good as it had been – he could speak with certainty on that head; she looked shabby, too, sometimes; gloves, shoes, bonnet, ribbons were not so often renewed as he considered necessary. He could not understand it; something under-hand was decidedly going on, but Constance always evaded any explanation. Then she was growing thin and low-spirited, nearly fretful, so he did not like to press her – what could it all mean? Comfort seemed banished from his hearth; some evil influence was hovering around them. There was some lurking mystery; and yet he was sure that she loved him. How anxious she was to please him in all save this? How proudly she looked up to him, how tenderly she had nursed him in a late severe attack. But why should she not tell him the cause of her unhappiness; why was there not perfect confidence between man and wife?