"And how much she always loved him," said Helen.
"My dear kind sister," said Mrs. Allerton, taking the hand of Constance, "I hope I shall never again see you distressed by such an intimation."
Mrs. Bladen reddened, looked down, and attentively examined the embroidered corners of her pocket handkerchief. There was a silence of a few moments, till Constance, making an effort to speak with composure, proceeded to explain herself.
"My brother," said she, "has finished his mortal existence. No human power, no human love, can aid him or soothe him now; and we will endeavour to submit with resignation to the will of Omnipotence. I hope--I trust we shall be able to do so; but the shock is yet too recent, and we cannot at once subdue the feelings of nature. It is dreadful to see the lifeless remains of one we have long and dearly loved, removed from our sight for ever, and consigned to the darkness and loneliness of the grave. For my part, on this sad occasion I feel an utter repugnance to the idea of becoming an object of curiosity to the spectators that gaze from the windows, and to the vulgar and noisy crowd that assembles about a burying-ground when an interment is to take place. I cannot expose my tears, my deep affliction, to the comments of the multitude; and I cannot have my feelings outraged by perhaps overhearing their coarse remarks. I may be too fastidious--I may be wrong; but to be present at the funeral of my brother is an effort I cannot resolve to make. And, moreover--"
Here her voice for a few moments became inarticulate, and her sister and nieces sobbed audibly.
"And then," she continued, "I cannot stand beside that open grave--I cannot see the coffin let down into it, and the earth thrown upon the lid till it is covered up for ever. I cannot--indeed I cannot. In the seclusion of my own apartment I shall, of course, know that all this is going on, and I shall suffer most acutely; but there will be no strangers to witness my sufferings. It is a dreadful custom, that of females attending the funerals of their nearest relatives. I wish it were abolished throughout our country, as it is in many parts of Europe."
"But you know," said Mrs. Bladen, "that it is almost universal in Philadelphia; and, 'when we are in Rome we must do as Rome does.'
Besides which, it is certainly our duty always to see our friends and relatives laid in the grave."
"Not when we are assured," replied Constance, "that the melancholy office can be properly performed without our presence or assistance.
Duty requires of us no sacrifice by which neither the living nor the dead can be benefited. But I have said enough; and I cannot be present at my brother's funeral."
She then rose and left the room, unable any longer to sustain a conversation so painful to her.
"Well, I am really astonished!" exclaimed Mrs. Bladen. "Not wear mourning for her brother! Not go to his funeral! However, I suppose she thinks she has a right to do as she pleases. But, she may depend on it, people will talk."
Just then a servant came to inform Mrs. Bladen that her husband was waiting for her in the parlour.
"Well, my dear Mrs. Allerton," said she, as she rose to depart, "we have not yet settled about the mourning. Of course, you are not going to adopt Miss Constance's strange whim of wearing none at all."
"What she has said on the subject appears to me very just," replied Mrs.
Allerton.
"Aunt Constance is always right," remarked one of the girls.
"As to Miss Allerton," resumed Mrs. Bladen, "she is well known to be independent in every sense of the word; and therefore she may do as she pleases--though she may rest assured that people will talk."
"What people?" asked Mrs. Allerton.
"Everybody--all the world."
Mrs. Allerton thought how very circumscribed was the world in which she and her family had lived since the date of their fallen fortunes.
"It is well known," pursued Mrs. Bladen, "that Miss Constance is able to wear mourning if she chooses it. But you may rely on it, Mrs. Allerton, that if you and your children do not appear in black, people will be ill-natured enough to say that it is because you cannot afford it.
Excuse my plainness."
"They will say rightly, then," replied Mrs. Allerton, with a sigh. "We certainly cannot afford it."
"How you talk!" said Mrs. Bladen. "Afford it or not, everybody has to wear mourning, and everybody does, from the highest down to the lowest.
Even my washerwoman put all her family (that is herself and her six children) into black when her husband died; notwithstanding that he was no great loss--for he was an idle, drunken Irishman, and beat them all round every day of his life. And my cook, a coloured woman, whose grandfather died in the almshouse a few weeks ago, has as handsome a suit of mourning as any lady need desire to wear."
"May I request," said Mrs. Allerton, "that you will spare me on this subject to-night? Indeed I can neither think nor talk about it."
"Well, then," replied Mrs. Bladen, kissing her, "I will hope to find you better in the morning. I shall be with you immediately after breakfast."
She then took her leave; and Constance, who had been weeping over the corpse of Mr. Allerton, now returned to the apartment of her sister-in-law.
Released from the importunities of Mrs. Bladen, our heroine now mildly and sensibly reasoned with the family on the great inconvenience, and, as she believed, the unnecessary expense of furnishing themselves with suits of mourning in their present circumstances. The season was late in the autumn, and they had recently supplied themselves with their winter outfit, all of which would now be rendered useless if black must be substituted. Her arguments had so much effect that Mrs. Allerton, with the concurrence of her daughters, very nearly promised to give up all intention of making a general change in their dress. But they found it harder than they had supposed, to free themselves from the trammels of custom.
Mrs. Allerton and Constance passed a sleepless night, and the children "awoke to weep" at an early hour in the morning. They all met in tears at the breakfast table. Little was eaten, and the table was scarcely cleared, when Mrs. Bladen came in, followed by two shop boys, one carrying two rolls of bombazine, and the other two boxes of Italian crape. Constance had just left the room.
After the first salutations were over, Mrs. Bladen informed Mrs.
Allerton that she had breakfasted an hour earlier than usual, that she might allow herself more time to go out, and transact the business of the morning.
"My dear friend," said she, "Mrs. Doubleprice has sent you, at my request, two pieces of bombazine, that you may choose for yourself.--One is more of a jet black than the other--but I think the blue black rather the finest. However, they are both of superb quality, and this season jet black is rather the most fashionable. I have been to Miss Facings, the mantua-maker, who is famous for mourning. Bombazines, when made up by her, have an air and a style about them, such as you will never see if done by any one else. There is nothing more difficult than to make up mourning as it ought to be.--I have appointed Miss Facings to meet me here--I wonder she has not arrived--she can tell you how much is necessary for the four dresses. If Miss Allerton finally concludes to be like other people and put on black, I suppose she will attend to it herself. These very sensible young ladies are beyond my comprehension."
"I am sure," said Helen, "no one is more easy to understand, than my dear Aunt Constance."
"And here," continued Mrs. Bladen, "is the double-width crape for the veils. As it is of very superior quality, you had best have it to trim the dresses, and for the neck handkerchiefs, and to border the black cloth shawls that you will have to get."
We must remark to our readers, that at the period of our story, it was customary to trim mourning dresses with a very broad fold of crape, reaching nearly from the feet to the knees.
Mrs. Allerton on hearing the prices of the crape and bombazine, declared them too expensive.
"But only look at the quality," persisted Mrs. Bladen, "and you know the best things are always the cheapest in the end--and, as I told you, nobody now wears economical mourning."
"We had best wear none of any description," said Mrs. Allerton.
"Ah!" cried Mrs. Bladen, "I see that Miss Constance has been trying again to make a convert of you. Yet, as you are not Quakers, I know not how you will be able to show your faces in the world, if you do not put on black. Excuse me, but innovations on established customs ought only to be attempted by people of note--by persons so far up in society that they may feel at liberty to do any out-of-the-way thing with impunity."
"I wish, indeed," said Mrs. Allerton, "that some of those influential persons would be so public-spirited as to set the example of dispensing with all customs that bear hard on people in narrow circumstances."
The mantua-maker now made her appearance, and Mrs. Bladen exclaimed, "Oh! Miss Facings, we have been waiting for you to tell us exactly how much of everything we are to get."
A long and earnest discussion now took place between Mrs. Bladen and the dressmaker, respecting the quality and quantity of the bombazine and crape.
Miss Facings having calculated the number of yards, Mrs. Bladen inquired if there was no yard-measure in the house. One was produced, and the measuring commenced forthwith; Mrs. Allerton having no longer energy to offer any further opposition. She sat with her handkerchief to her face, and her daughters wept also. Sirs. Bladen stepped up to her, and whispered, "You are aware that it will not be necessary to pay the bills immediately."
"Ah!" returned Mrs. Allerton, "I know not when they can be paid. But we will strain every nerve to do it as soon as possible. I cannot bear the idea of remaining in debt for this mourning."
Their business being accomplished, the shop-boys departed, and Miss Facings made her preparations for cutting out the dresses, taking an opportunity of assuring the weeping girls that nothing was more becoming to the figure than black bombazine, and that everybody looked their best in a new suit of mourning.
At this juncture, Constance returned to the room, and was extremely sorry to find that the fear of singularity, and the officious perseverance of Mrs. Bladen, had superseded the better sense of her sister-in-law. But as the evil was now past remedy, our heroine, according to her usual practice, refrained from any further animadversions on the subject.
Little Louisa was now brought in to be fitted: and when her frock was cut out, Constance offered to make it herself, on hearing Miss Facings declare that she would be obliged to keep her girls up all night to complete the dresses by the appointed time, as they had already more work in the house than they could possibly accomplish.
Mrs. Allerton expressed great unwillingness to allowing her sister-in-law to take the trouble of making Louisa's dress. But Constance whispered to her that she had always found occupation to be one of the best medicines for an afflicted mind, and that it would in some degree prevent her thoughts from dwelling incessantly on the same melancholy subject. Taking Louisa with her, she retired to her own apartment, and the frock was completed by next day: though the overflowing eyes of poor Constance frequently obliged her to lay down her sewing. In reality, her chief motive in proposing to make the dress, was to save the expense of having it done by the mantua-maker.
Miss Facings took Mrs. Allerton's gown home with her, saying she would send one of her girls for the two others; and Mrs. Bladen then began to plan the bonnets and shawls. She went off to a fashionable milliner, and engaged a mourning bonnet and four mourning caps for Mrs. Allerton, and a bonnet for each of her daughters. And she was going back and forwards nearly all day with specimens of black cloth for the shawls, black stockings, black gloves, &c.
The girls, at their aunt's suggestion, hemmed the crape veils, and on the following morning, she assisted them in making and trimming the shawls. Still, Constance was well convinced that the expense of the mourning (including the suit bespoken for Frederick) would be greater than they could possibly afford. The cost of the funeral she intended to defray from her own funds, and she took occasion to request Mr. Denman to have nothing about it that should be unnecessarily expensive.
The hour arrived when the sorrowing family of Mr. Allerton were to be parted for ever from all that remained of the husband, the father, and the brother. They had taken the last look of his fixed and lifeless features, they had imprinted the last kiss on his cold and pallid lips; and from the chamber of death, they had to adjourn to the incongruous task of attiring themselves in their mourning habits to appear at his funeral. How bitterly they wept as their friends assisted them in putting on their new dresses; and when they tied on their bonnets and their long veils, to follow to his grave the object of their fondest affection!