XXVII. AMY BELDEN
“A merrier man Within the limits of becoming mirth, I never spent an hour’s talk withal.” --Love’s Labour’s Last.
I HAD a client in R---- by the name of Monell; and it was from him Ihad planned to learn the best way of approaching Mrs. Belden. When,therefore, I was so fortunate as to meet him, almost on my arrival,driving on the long road behind his famous trotter Alfred, I regardedthe encounter as a most auspicious beginning of a very doubtfulenterprise.
“Well, and how goes the day?” was his exclamation as, the firstgreetings passed, we drove rapidly into town.
“Your part in it goes pretty smoothly,” I returned; and thinking I couldnever hope to win his attention to my own affairs till I had satisfiedhim in regard to his, I told him all I could concerning the law-suitthen pending; a subject so prolific of question and answer, that wehad driven twice round the town before he remembered he had a letter topost. As it was an important one, admitting of no delay, we hasted atonce to the post-office, where he went in, leaving me outside to watchthe rather meagre stream of goers and comers who at that time of daymake the post-office of a country town their place of rendezvous. Amongthese, for some reason, I especially noted one middle-aged woman; why, Icannot say; her appearance was anything but remarkable. And yet whenshe came out, with two letters in her hand, one in a large and one in asmall envelope, and meeting my eye hastily drew them under her shawl,I found myself wondering what was in her letters and who she could be,that the casual glance of a stranger should unconsciously move her to anaction so suspicious. But Mr. Monell’s reappearance at the same moment,diverted my attention, and in the interest of the conversation thatfollowed, I soon forgot both the woman and her letters. For determinedthat he should have no opportunity to revert to that endless topic, alaw case, I exclaimed with the first crack of the whip,--“There, I knewthere was something I wanted to ask you. It is this: Are you acquaintedwith any one is this town by the name of Belden?”
“There is a widow Belden in town; I don’t know of any other.”
“Is her first name Amy?”
“Yes, Mrs. Amy Belden.”
“That is the one,” said I. “Who is she, what is she, and what is theextent of your acquaintance with her?”
“Well,” said he, “ I cannot conceive why you should be interested insuch an antiquated piece of commonplace goodness as she is, but seeingyou ask, I have no objection to telling you that she is the veryrespectable relict of a deceased cabinetmaker of this town; that shelives in a little house down the street there, and that if you have anyforlorn old tramp to be lodged over night, or any destitute family oflittle ones to be looked after, she is the one to go to. As to knowingher, I know her as I do a dozen other members of our church there upover the hill. When I see her I speak to her, and that is all.”
“A respectable widow, you say. Any family?”
“No; lives alone, has a little income, I believe; must have, to put themoney on the plate she always does; but spends her time in plain sewingand such deeds of charity, as one with small means but willing heart canfind the opportunity of doing in a town like this. But why in the nameof wonders do you ask?”
“Business,” said I, “business. Mrs. Belden--don’t mention it by theway--has got mixed up in a case of mine, and I felt it due to mycuriosity if not to my purse, to find out something about her. And I amnot satisfied yet. The fact is I would give something, Monell, for theopportunity of studying this woman’s character. Now couldn’t you manageto get me introduced into her house in some way that would make itpossible and proper for me to converse with her at my leisure? Businesswould thank you if you could.”
“Well, I don’t know; I suppose it could be done. She used to takelodgers in the summer when the hotel was full, and might be inducedto give a bed to a friend of mine who is very anxious to be near thepost-office on account of a business telegram he is expecting, and whichwhen it comes will demand his immediate attention.” And Mr. Monell gaveme a sly wink of his eye, little imagining how near the mark he hadstruck.
“You need not say that. Tell her I have a peculiar dislike to sleepingin a public house, and that you know of no one better fitted toaccommodate me, for the short time I desire to be in town, thanherself.”
“And what will be said of my hospitality in allowing you under thesecircumstances to remain in any other house than my own?”
“I don’t know; very hard things, no doubt; but I guess your hospitalitycan stand it.”
“Well, if you persist, we will see what can be done.” And driving up toa neat white cottage of homely, but sufficiently attractive appearance,he stopped.
“This is her house,” said he, jumping to the ground; “let’s go in andsee what we can do.”
Glancing up at the windows, which were all closed save the two on theveranda overlooking the street, I thought to myself, “If she has anybodyin hiding here, whose presence in the house she desires to keep secret,it is folly to hope she will take me in, however well recommended I maycome.” But, yielding to the example of my friend, I alighted in my turnand followed him up the short, grass-bordered walk to the front door.
“As she has no servant, she will come to the door herself, so be ready,” he remarked as he knocked.
I had barely time to observe that the curtains to the window at my leftsuddenly dropped, when a hasty step made itself heard within, and aquick hand drew open the door; and I saw before me the woman whom Ihad observed at the post-office, and whose action with the letters hadstruck me as peculiar. I recognized her at first glance, though shewas differently dressed, and had evidently passed through some worry orexcitement that had altered the expression of her countenance, andmade her manner what it was not at that time, strained and a trifleuncertain. But I saw no reason for thinking she remembered me. On thecontrary, the look she directed towards me had nothing but inquiry init, and when Mr. Monell pushed me forward with the remark, “A friendof mine; in fact my lawyer from New York,” she dropped a hurriedold-fashioned curtsey whose only expression was a manifest desire toappear sensible of the honor conferred upon her, through the mist of acertain trouble that confused everything about her.
“We have come to ask a favor, Mrs. Belden; but may we not come in? “saidmy client in a round, hearty voice well calculated to recall a person’sthoughts into their proper channel. “I have heard many times of yourcosy home, and am glad of this opportunity of seeing it.” And with ablind disregard to the look of surprised resistance with which she methis advance, he stepped gallantly into the little room whose cheeryred carpet and bright picture-hung walls showed invitingly through thehalf-open door at our left.
Finding her premises thus invaded by a sort of French _coup d’etat,_Mrs. Belden made the best of the situation, and pressing me to enteralso, devoted herself to hospitality. As for Mr. Monell, he quiteblossomed out in his endeavors to make himself agreeable; so much so,that I shortly found myself laughing at his sallies, though my heart wasfull of anxiety lest, after all, our efforts should fail of the successthey certainly merited. Meanwhile, Mrs. Belden softened more and more,joining in the conversation with an ease hardly to be expected from onein her humble circumstances. Indeed, I soon saw she was no common woman.There was a refinement in her speech and manner, which, combined withher motherly presence and gentle air, was very pleasing. The last womanin the world to suspect of any underhanded proceeding, if she had notshown a peculiar hesitation when Mr. Monell broached the subject of myentertainment there.
“I don’t know, sir; I would be glad, but,” and she turned a veryscrutinizing look upon me, “the fact is, I have not taken lodgers oflate, and I have got out of the way of the whole thing, and am afraid Icannot make him comfortable. In short, you will have to excuse me.”
“But we can’t,” returned Mr. Monell. “What, entice a fellow into a roomlike this”--and he cast a hearty admiring glance round the apartmentwhich, for all its simplicity, both its warm coloring and general air ofcosin
ess amply merited, “and then turn a cold shoulder upon him when hehumbly entreats the honor of staying a single night in the enjoymentof its attractions? No, no, Mrs. Belden; I know you too well for that.Lazarus himself couldn’t come to your door and be turned away; much lessa good-hearted, clever-headed young gentleman like my friend here.”
“You are very good,” she began, an almost weak love of praise showingitself for a moment in her eyes; “but I have no room prepared. I havebeen house-cleaning, and everything is topsy-turvy Mrs. Wright, now,over the way----”
“My young friend is going to stop here,” Mr. Mouell broke in, with frankpositiveness. “If I cannot have him at my own house,--and for certainreasons it is not advisable,--I shall at least have the satisfaction ofknowing he is in the charge of the best housekeeper in R----.”
“Yes,” I put in, but without too great a show of interest; “I should besorry, once introduced here, to be obliged to go elsewhere.”
The troubled eye wavered away from us to the door.
“I was never called inhospitable,” she commenced; “but everything insuch disorder. What time would you like to come?”
“I was in hopes I might remain now,” I replied; “I have some lettersto write, and ask nothing better than for leave to sit here and writethem.”
At the word letters I saw her hand go to her pocket in a movement whichmust have been involuntary, for her countenance did not change, and shemade the quick reply:
“Well, you may. If you can put up with such poor accommodations as I canoffer, it shall not be said I refused you what Mr. Monell is pleased tocall a favor.”
And, complete in her reception as she had been in her resistance, shegave us a pleasant smile, and, ignoring my thanks, bustled out with Mr.Monell to the buggy, where she received my bag and what was, doubtless,more to her taste, the compliments he was now more than ever ready tobestow upon her.
“I will see that a room is got ready for you in a very short space oftime,” she said, upon re-entering. “Meanwhile, make yourself at homehere; and if you wish to write, why I think you will find everything forthe purpose in these drawers.” And wheeling up a table to the easy chairin which I sat, she pointed to the small compartments beneath, withan air of such manifest desire to have me make use of anything andeverything she had, that I found myself wondering over my position witha sort of startled embarrassment that was not remote from shame.
“Thank you; I have materials of my own,” said I, and hastened to open mybag and bring out the writing-case, which I always carried with me.
“Then I will leave you,” said she; and with a quick bend and a short,hurried look out of the window, she hastily quitted the room.
I could hear her steps cross the hall, go up two or three stairs, pause,go up the rest of the flight, pause again, and then pass on. I was lefton the first floor alone.