CHAPTER II.
A STANCH FRIEND MAKES A VAIN APPEAL.
Beautiful Edith Allandale and her gentle, refined mother had beensuddenly hurled from affluence down into the very depths of poverty.
Only two years previous to the opening of our story the world had beenas bright to them as to any of the petted favorites of fortune whodwell in the luxurious palaces on Fifth avenue.
Albert Allandale had been a wealthy broker in Wall street; for yearsFortune had showered her favors upon him, and everything he hadtouched seemed literally to turn to gold in his grasp.
His family consisted of his wife, his beautiful daughter, and twobright sons, ten and twelve years of age, upon whom the dearest hopesof his life had centered.
But like a thunderbolt out of a clear sky, an illness of less than aweek had deprived him of both of his sons.
Diphtheria, that fell destroyer, laid its relentless hand upon them,and they had died upon the same day, within a few hours of each other.
The heart-broken father was a changed man from the moment, when,sitting in speechless agony beside these idolized boys, he watchedtheir young lives go out, and felt that the future held nothing totempt him to live on.
His mind appeared to be impaired by this crushing blow; he couldneither eat nor sleep; his business was neglected, and, day by day, hefailed, until, in less than six months from the time that death had sorobbed him, he had followed his boys, leaving his wife and lovelydaughter to struggle as best they could with poverty; for their greatwealth had melted like snow beneath the blazing sun when Mr. Allandalelost his interest in the affairs of the world.
Keenly sensitive, and no less proud--crushed by their many sorrows,the bereaved wife and daughter hid themselves and their grief fromevery one, in a remote corner of the great city. But misfortunefollowed misfortune--Mrs. Allandale having become a confirmedinvalid--until they were reduced to the straits described at theopening of our story.
The week preceding they had spent their last dollar--obtained bypawning one after another of their old-time treasures--and Edithinsisted upon seeking employment.
She had seen an advertisement for a copyist in one of the dailypapers, and, upon answering it in person, succeeded in obtaining thesituation with the young lawyer already mentioned.
Every day spent in her presence only served to make him admire her themore; and, before the week was out, he had altogether lost his heartto her.
When Saturday evening arrived, he paid her with the golden coin whichwas destined to bring fresh sorrow upon her, and she went out from hispresence with a strange feeling of pride and independence over theknowledge that she had earned it with her own hands, and henceforthwould be able to provide for her own and her mother's comfort.
But Royal Bryant had been conscience-smitten when he saw her beautifulface light up with mingled pride and pleasure as he laid that tinypiece of gold in her palm.
He would gladly have doubled the amount; but five dollars had been thesum agreed upon for that first week's work, and he feared that hewould wound her pride by offering her a gratuity.
So he had told her that she would be worth more to him the next week,and that he would continue to increase her wages in proportion as sheacquired speed and proficiency in her work.
Thus she had started forth, that dreary Saturday night, with acomparatively light heart, to redeem her watch, before going home totell her mother her good news.
But, alas! how disastrously the day had closed!
"Come, miss," impatiently remarked the officer, as she sat with bowedhead, her face covered with her hands, "get on your things! I've notime to be fooling away, and must run you into camp before it gets anylater."
"Oh, what do you mean?" cried Edith, starting wildly to her feet."Where are you going to take me?"
"To the station-house, of course, where you'll stay until Monday, whenyou'll be taken to court for your examination," was the gruff reply.
"Oh, no! I can never spend two nights in such a place!" moaned thenearly frantic girl, with a shiver of horror. "I have done nointentional wrong," she continued, lifting an appealing look to theman's face. "That money was given to me for some work that I have beendoing this week, and if any one is answerable for it beingcounterfeit, it should be the person who paid it to me."
"Who paid you the money?" the officer demanded.
"A lawyer for whom I have been copying--Mr. Royal Bryant; his officeis at No. ---- Broadway."
"Then you'll have to appeal to him. But of course it's too late now tofind him at his office. Where does he live?"
"I do not know," sighed Edith, dejectedly. "I have only been with himone week, and did not once hear him mention his residence."
"That's a pity, miss," returned the officer, in a gentler tone, for hebegan to be moved by her beauty and distress. The condition of theinvalid, who had fallen back weak and faint in her chair when heentered, also appealed to him.
"Unless you can prove your story true, and make up the grocer's lossto him, I shall be obliged to lock you up to await your examination."
Edith's face lighted hopefully.
"Do you mean that if I could pay Mr. Pincher I need not be arrested?"she eagerly inquired.
"Yes; the man only wants his money."
"Then he shall have it," Edith joyfully exclaimed. "I will give himback the change he gave me, then I will go to Mr. Bryant the firstthing Monday morning and tell him about the gold-piece, when I am surehe will make it all right, and I can pay Mr. Pincher for what I boughtto-night."
"No, you don't, miss," here interposed the grocer himself. "I've hadthat game played on me too many times already. You'll just fork overfive dollars to me this very night or off you go to the lock-up. I'mnot going to run any risk of your skipping out of sight between nowand Monday, and leaving me in the lurch."
"But I have no money, save the change you gave me," said Edith,wearily. "And do you think I would wish to run away when my mother istoo sick to be moved?" she added, indignantly. "I could not take herwith me, and I would not leave her. Oh, pray do not force me to go tothat dreadful place this fearful night! I promise that I will stayquietly here and that you shall have every penny of your money onMonday morning."
"She certainly will keep her word, gentlemen," Mrs. Allandale hereinterposed, in a tremulous voice. "Do not force her to leave me, for Iam very ill and need her."
"I'm going to have my five dollars now, or to jail she will go," wasthe gruff response of the obdurate grocer.
"Oh, I cannot go to jail!" wailed the persecuted girl.
Mrs. Allandale, almost unnerved by the sight of her grief, pleadedagain with pallid face and quivering lips for her. But the man wasrelentless. He resolutely turned his back upon the two delicate womenand walked from the room, saying as he went:
"Do your duty, Mr. Officer, and I'll be on hand Monday morning, incourt, to tell 'em how I've been swindled."
With this he vanished, leaving the policeman no alternative but toenforce the law.
"Oh, mamma! mamma! how can I live and suffer such shame?" cried thedespairing girl, as she sank upon her knees in front of the sickwoman, and shuddered from head to foot in view of the fate before her.
Mrs. Allandale was so overcome that she could not utter one word ofcomfort. She was only able to lift one wasted hand and lay it upon thegolden head with a touch of infinite tenderness; then, with a gasp,she fainted dead away.
"Oh, you have killed her!" Edith cried, in an agonized tone. "Whatshall I do? How can I leave her? I will not. Oh! will no one come tohelp me in this dreadful emergency?"
"Sure, Miss Allandale, ye know that Kate O'Brien is always willin' tolend ye a hand when you're in trouble--bless yer bonny heart!" hereinterposed a loud but kindly voice, and the next instant thegood-natured face of a buxom Irishwoman was thrust inside the door,which the grocer had left ajar when he went out. "What is the matterhere?" she concluded, glancing from the officer to the senseless womanin her chair, and over whom Edith was hanging, chafin
g her cold hands,while bitter tears rolled over her face.
A few words sufficed to explain the situation, and then theindignation of the warm-hearted daughter of Erin blazed forth moreforcibly than elegantly, and she berated the absent grocer and presentofficer in no gentle terms.
Kate O'Brien would gladly have advanced the five dollars to thegrocer, but, unfortunately, she herself was at that moment almostdestitute of cash.
"Come, Miss Allandale," said the officer, somewhat impatiently, "Ican't wait any longer."
"Oh, mamma! how can I leave you like this?" moaned the girl, with adespairing glance at the inanimate figure which, as yet, had given nosigns to returning life.
"She has only fainted, mavourneen," said Kate O'Brien, in a tendertone, for she at last realized that it would be worse than useless tocontend against the majesty of the law. "She'll soon come to hersel',and ye may safely trust her wid me--I'll not lave her till ye comeback again."
And with this assurance, Edith was forced to be content, for she saw,by the officer's resolute face, that she could hope for no reprieve.
So, with one last agonizing look, she pressed a kiss upon the pallidbrow of her loved one; then, again donning her hat and shawl, she toldthe policeman that she was ready, and went forth once more into thedarkness and the pitiless storm, feeling, almost, as if God himselfhad forsaken her, and wondering if she should ever see her dear motheralive again.