Part 30 (2/2)

And again she said ”Oh dear! what shall I do?”

It was just what they wanted she should say. Mrs. Laylor replied:

”Do! Why, she must do what other folks have to do. Frank Barkley is dying to do for her, the fool that she is; he would give her any amount of money, if she would be a little more agreeable when he calls. It was a long time before I could persuade her to drink a gla.s.s of wine with him. Some girls would have helped me to sell two or three bottles every evening. I shall tell her to-day that she has got to do something. I cannot keep anybody in the house this way much longer.”

What a dose of gall and wormwood was this to poor Athalia! This was boasted friends.h.i.+p. Forced by one specious pretence after another to remain; purposely kept without work, that she might get in debt, for that would put her in her creditor's power; and robbed of her money--worse than robbed; and yet she was only served just as innumerable poor girls have been served before, and will be again; it was enough to make her cry out, ”What shall I do?”

And then to be accused of being ungrateful. That was worse than all.

Then she thought that perhaps she had been. Mrs. Laylor had told her several times how much wine some girls could induce gentlemen to buy, and how much profit she made upon every bottle; and more than that, she had hinted very strongly how much money such a handsome woman as Athalia could make, if she was disposed to; and then she told a story about a young clergyman that used to come there, and what a great fool he was when he drank a little wine, and how she made a hundred dollars out of the simpleton, and a great deal more; but she did not tell her how she cheated him, nor how she had cheated Athalia out of her seventy dollars, nor that Frank Barkley had paid her board, which she was now trumping up an account for, so as to drive her to the seeming necessity of selling her body and soul to escape from the tangled web which this human spider was weaving around this poor weak fly.

In the course of the day, after this overheard conversation, Mrs. Laylor came to tell Athalia ”that she had succeeded at last in obtaining her watch and Bible, by paying thirty dollars out of her own pocket, although she did not know how in the world to spare it, but she supposed Mrs. Morgan would repay it almost immediately.”

Repay it! How could she? And so she said bitterly that she had no hope.

Her heart was almost broken. Mrs. Laylor, of course, condoled with her, soothed her, rea.s.sured her of her pure friends.h.i.+p, took out the watch and put the chain over her neck, sent down and had the Bible brought up, and with it a bottle of wine, one of the half brandy sort, and insisted upon her drinking of it freely, and driving off the blues; and then, after she had got her into a state of partial intoxication, and fit for any act of desperation, sent for Frank Barkley, who had just arrived, to come up to Athalia's room, and play a game of cards. She had never before consented to that, but now Mrs. Laylor was there, and she desired it, and so he came. It had been all previously arranged that he should, and that he should order another bottle of wine--mixed wine--and then Mrs. Laylor was called out, and went suddenly, saying as she did so:

”Let the cards lie, I will be back in a minute.”

That minute never came. That night was the last of conscious purity which had so long sustained Athalia through all her trials.

For the next six months she never allowed herself to think. She was lost. The instruments of darkness had betrayed her into the deepest consequences.

The scene s.h.i.+fts.

Shall we see Athalia again?

Wait.

CHAPTER XIII.

THE LITTLE PEDLAR.--MORE OF ATHALIA.

”Wisdom and goodness to the vile seem vile,”

And thus at this may laugh the scoffer.

”Let those laugh who win.”

We started in the first chapter of our volume of ”Life Scenes,” to take an evening-walk up Broadway. How little progress we have made. We turned off at Cortland street, to follow Mrs. Eaton and her children home, and then we went with the crowd to the fire. Then we came back to listen to the cry of ”Hot Corn, hot corn! here is your nice hot corn, smoking hot!” that came up in such plaintive music from the mouth of Little Katy, in the Park. Then we followed her to her home, and to her grave.

What a ramble I have led you, reader. Occasionally our route has led us back again and again into this great, broad, main artery of the lower part of this bustling world, this great moving, living body, called New York. There are several other broadways in the upper part of the city.

We have but one in the lowest portion of it--that is for carriages.

There are a good many broadways of the town, through which pedestrians go, where they ”put an enemy in the mouth to steal away the brains,” an enemy

”Whose edge is sharper than the sword: whose tongue Out-venoms all the worms of Nile; whose breath Rides on the winds, and doth belie All corners of the world; kings, queens, and states, Maids, matrons,” all in one fell swoop, To earth struck down.

Such a broadway may be seen, nay, must be seen, by all who enter the great, high, oaken doors of the granite portal of one of the best of the great Broadway hotels in New York, for the way is wide open, inviting the weary traveller to enter the great, dome-shaped ”exchange”--exchange of gold, health, peace of mind, domestic blessings, for a worm that will gnaw out the very soul; a worm with teeth, ”whose edge is sharper than the sword.”

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