CHAPTER SIXTEENTH.
MR. ELDER DEMANDS HIS RENT.--NOTICE TO QUIT.
The money received by Mrs. Wentworth from Mr. Swartz, proved but atemporary relief for her children and herself. A fatal day was fastarriving, and she knew not how to avert the impending storm. By agreat deal of labor and deprivation she had heretofore succeeded inpaying the rent of the room she occupied, although Mr. Elder had twiceadvanced the price. Now there was no hope of her being able to obtaina sufficient sum of money to meet the demand of that gentleman, whowould call on her the following day in person, did she not call at hisoffice and settle for at least one months rent in advance. The monthfor which she had paid expired in three days, and she was apprehensiveof being turned out, unless she could collect sufficient money to payhim. She knew not where to find the means. The room was stripped bareof furniture to supply the calls of nature; nothing but a mattress inone corner of the apartment, and a few cooking utensils remained. Shelabored day and night, to procure work, but all her efforts wereunavailing. It appeared to her as if the Almighty had forsaken herselfand children, and had left them to perish through want.
It cannot be that God would place his image on earth, and willinglyleave them to perish from destitution. Many have been known to die ofstarvation, and the tales of wretchedness and woe with which thepublic ear is often filled attest the fact. Squalid forms andthreadbare garments are seen, alas! too often in this civilised world,and the grave of the pauper is often opened to receive some unhappymortal, whose life had been one scene of suffering and want.Philanthropy shudders and Christianity believes it to be a punishment,administered by the hand of God; that the haggard cause of the starvedcreature, who has thus miserably died, once contained the spirit of amortal undergoing the penalty of Him, who judges mankind on high, andexpiating through his heart-rending bodily agony, crimes committed inby-gone days.
This is not so in all cases. What mercy could we attribute to God, didhe willingly entail misery upon the innocent, or punish them for thecrimes of the guilty? Why call it a dispensation of Divine justice,that would condemn to weeks, months and years of wretchedness, themortals he brought in the world himself? Who hath seen the hovel ofthe pauper; beheld its wretched inmates, heard their tale of woe,heard them tell of days passing without their having a crumb of breadto satisfy the cravings of hunger, or seen them in that last stage ofdestitution, when hunger brings on despair, until the mind wandersfrom its seat, and madness takes its place; heard the raving of themaniac, his frenzied call for bread, and his abject desolation, untildeath came kindly to relieve his sufferings, and felt not that thehand of God had never worked so much ill for his people? Is itprofanity to say that the eye of God had wandered from them? Webelieve it; for the Book that teaches us of the Almighty, depicts himas a God of mercy and compassion. The eye of the Omnipotent is notupon the wretched. "He seeth all things," but there are times when Hiseyes are turned from those who endure the storm of a cold andheartless world, and He knows not of their suffering, until the Angelof Death brings their spirit before the Judgment seat.
God had not deserted the soldier's wife, but His eyes were turnedaway, and He saw not her condition. Thus was she left unaided by thehand of Providence. She felt her desolation, for as each day passedby, and her condition became worse, she knew that her prayers wereunanswered. They reached not the ear of the Almighty, and the innocentchildren were allowed to participate of that bitter cup, which thechances of worldly fortune had placed before the unhappy family.
Three days sped away quickly, and the fatal morning arrived. She hadno money to pay the rent, and the day passed away without Mr. Elderreceiving a visit from her. She dared not to tell him of her position,but awaited patiently his arrival on the following day, for she wellknew he would be sure to come.
The next morning saw him at her door, much annoyed at the trouble shegave him to call and collect the money. Mrs. Wentworth had nothing tosay, nor had she a dollar to satisfy his demands.
"Good morning, madam," he said, as she opened the door to admit him,"I was much surprised at your not calling to pay the rent at my officeon yesterday. I admire punctuality above everything else."
He entered the room, and cast his eyes on its empty walls. They didnot satisfy him, for the absence of any furniture told the tale of thesoldier's wife in a more graphic manner than words could have done.
"What does this mean?" he enquired.
"It means that necessity has compelled a mother to sacrificeeverything to keep her children from starving," Mrs. Wentworthreplied.
"Humph," said Mr. Elder. "This is singular. So I suppose," hecontinued, addressing her, "you will say you have no money to pay yourmonth's rent in advance."
"I have not a dollar this day to buy bread," she answered.
A frown gathered on Mr. Elder's brow, as he remarked: "I suppose yourecollect the arrangement made between us when you first hired theroom from me."
"What arrangement was that?" she enquired in an absent manner.
"That on you failing to pay the rent, I should have the power toresume possession of the room, without giving you notice to leave."
"I recollect," she said.
"Well, in accordance with our arrangements, I shall require that youvacate the room to-day, as I can procure another tenant, who will beable to pay the rent promptly."
"Do you mean that I must leave to-day," she asked.
"Yes," he replied, "I desire to have the room renovated at once."
"Where can I go to without money," she enquired, in a tone more likeas if she was addressing herself than speaking to him.
"I really cannot tell my good, woman," he answered, "I am sorry foryour position, but cannot afford to lose the rent of my room, I amcompelled to pay my taxes, and support myself by the money I receivefrom rent."
"I cannot leave to-day," Mrs. Wentworth cried in a despairing tone. "Icannot leave to-day. Oh, sir! look at my child lying on that wretchedbed, and tell me, if you can have the heart to turn me out, homeless,friendless and alone."
"My good Woman," he answered. "I cannot help your misfortunes, nor canI do anything to assist you. If you can pay the rent, I have noobjection to your remaining, but if you can not, I will be compelledto get another tenant who will be able."
"Sir," she remarked, speaking slowly. "I am a woman with two children,alone in this State. My husband and protector is now pining in aYankee prison, a sacrifice on the altar of his country. Let me ask youas a man, and perhaps a father, to pause ere you turn a helpless womanfrom the shelter of your property. You appear wealthy, and the sumcharged for the rent would make but little difference to you, if itwas never paid. Oh! do not eject us from this room. My child liesthere parched with fever, and to remove her may be fatal."
"There is no necessity for any appeals to me," he replied. "If I wereto give way to such extravagant requests in your case, I should benecessitated to do so in others, and the result would be, that Ishould find myself sheltering all my tenants, without receiving anypay for house rent. The idea cannot be entertained for a moment."
"Let your own heart speak," she said, "and not the promptings ofworldly thoughts. All those who rent your houses are not situated as Iam. They are at home among friends, who will aid and succor them, ifever necessity overtook them. I am far away from home and friends.There is no one in this town that I can call upon for assistance, andeven now, my children are without food for want of funds to purchaseit. Do not add to my wretchedness by depriving them of shelter. Let meknow that if we are to die of starvation, a roof, at least, will coverour bodies."
He looked at her with unchanged countenance. Not even the movement ofa muscle, denoted that his heart was touched at her pathetic appeal.His expression was as hard and cold as adamantine, nor did a singlefeeling of pity move him. He cared for nothing but money; she couldnot give him what he wanted, and too sentiment of commiseration, nospark of charity, no feeling of manly regret at her sufferings enteredhis bosom.
"Be charitable," she continued
. "I have prayed night after night toGod to relieve my necessities; I have walked the town through andthrough in the effort to procure work, but my prayers have beenunanswered, and my efforts have proven unavailing. At times thethought of the maelstrom of woe into which I am plunged, has well nighdriven me to madness. My brain has seemed on fire, and the shrieks ofthe maniac would have been heard resounding through the walls of thisroom, but my children would come before me, and the light of reasonwould again return. But for their sake I should welcome death as aprecious boon. Life has but every charm for me. In the pale andalternated woman before you, none could recognize a once happy wife.Oh, sir!" she continued, with energy; "believe me when I tell you thatfor my children's sake alone, I now appeal. Hear me, and look withpity on a mother's pleadings. It is for them I plead. Were I alone, noword of supplication would you hear. I should leave here, and in thecold and turbid waters of Pearl river, find the rest I am denied onearth."
"This is a very unaccountable thing to me," said Mr. Elder. "You makean agreement to leave as soon as you fail to pay your rent, and nowthat that hour has arrived, instead of conforming to your agreement, Iam beset with a long supplication. My good woman, this effort of yoursto induce me to provide a home for your family at my expense, cannotbe successful. You have no claim upon my charity, and those who have,are sufficiently numerous already without my desiring to make anyaddition. As I mentioned before, you must either find money to pay therent, or vacate the room."
"Give me time," she said, speaking with an effort; "give me but twodays, and I will endeavor either to obtain the money, or to procuresomewhere to stay."
Mr. Elder knit his brows again as he answered. "I cannot give you twodays, for I intend renting the room by to-morrow. You can, however,remain here until this evening, at which time you must either beprepared to leave, or find money to pay for the rent."
"It is well," she replied. "I will do as you say."
"Then you may expect me here this evening at dusk," he said, andturning towards the door left the room muttering; "when will I everget rid of this crowd of paupers, who, it is always my luck to rentrooms to."
"God of Heaven aid me!" exclaimed Mrs. Wentworth, as she closed thedoor in the receding form of Mr. Elder, and sank on her knees beforethe bed on which Ella lay in a high fever.