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<h2> BOOK III. HANNAH </h2>
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<h2> XXVII. AMY BELDEN </h2>
<p>"A merrier man<br/>
Within the limits of becoming mirth,<br/>
I never spent an hour's talk withal."<br/>
—Love's Labour's Last.<br/></p>
<p>I HAD a client in R—— by the name of Monell; and it was from
him I had 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 regarded the
encounter as a most auspicious beginning of a very doubtful enterprise.</p>
<p>"Well, and how goes the day?" was his exclamation as, the first greetings
passed, we drove rapidly into town.</p>
<p>"Your part in it goes pretty smoothly," I returned; and thinking I could
never hope to win his attention to my own affairs till I had satisfied him
in regard to his, I told him all I could concerning the law-suit then
pending; a subject so prolific of question and answer, that we had driven
twice round the town before he remembered he had a letter to post. As it
was an important one, admitting of no delay, we hasted at once to the
post-office, where he went in, leaving me outside to watch the rather
meagre stream of goers and comers who at that time of day make the
post-office of a country town their place of rendezvous. Among these, for
some reason, I especially noted one middle-aged woman; why, I cannot say;
her appearance was anything but remarkable. And yet when she came out,
with two letters in her hand, one in a large and one in a small 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 an action so
suspicious. But Mr. Monell's reappearance at the same moment, diverted my
attention, and in the interest of the conversation that followed, I soon
forgot both the woman and her letters. For determined that he should have
no opportunity to revert to that endless topic, a law case, I exclaimed
with the first crack of the whip,--"There, I knew there was something I
wanted to ask you. It is this: Are you acquainted with 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 the extent of
your acquaintance with her?" "Well," said he, " I cannot conceive why you
should be interested in such an antiquated piece of commonplace goodness
as she is, but seeing you ask, I have no objection to telling you that she
is the very respectable relict of a deceased cabinetmaker of this town;
that she lives in a little house down the street there, and that if you
have any forlorn old tramp to be lodged over night, or any destitute
family of little ones to be looked after, she is the one to go to. As to
knowing her, I know her as I do a dozen other members of our church there
up over 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 the money on the plate she always
does; but spends her time in plain sewing and such deeds of charity, as
one with small means but willing heart can find the opportunity of doing
in a town like this. But why in the name of wonders do you ask?"
"Business," said I, "business. Mrs. Belden--don't mention it by the
way--has got mixed up in a case of mine, and I felt it due to my curiosity
if not to my purse, to find out something about her. And I am not
satisfied yet. The fact is I would give something, Monell, for the
opportunity of studying this woman's character. Now couldn't you manage to
get me introduced into her house in some way that would make it possible
and proper for me to converse with her at my leisure? Business would thank
you if you could." "Well, I don't know; I suppose it could be done. She
used to take lodgers in the summer when the hotel was full, and might be
induced to give a bed to a friend of mine who is very anxious to be near
the post-office on account of a business telegram he is expecting, and
which when it comes will demand his immediate attention." And Mr. Monell
gave me a sly wink of his eye, little imagining how near the mark he had
struck.</p>
<p>"You need not say that. Tell her I have a peculiar dislike to sleeping in
a public house, and that you know of no one better fitted to accommodate
me, for the short time I desire to be in town, than herself."</p>
<p>"And what will be said of my hospitality in allowing you under these
circumstances to remain in any other house than my own?"</p>
<p>"I don't know; very hard things, no doubt; but I guess your hospitality
can stand it."</p>
<p>"Well, if you persist, we will see what can be done." And driving up to a
neat white cottage of homely, but sufficiently attractive appearance, he
stopped.</p>
<p>"This is her house," said he, jumping to the ground; "let's go in and see
what we can do."</p>
<p>Glancing up at the windows, which were all closed save the two on the
veranda overlooking the street, I thought to myself, "If she has anybody
in 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 may
come." But, yielding to the example of my friend, I alighted in my turn
and followed him up the short, grass-bordered walk to the front door.</p>
<p>"As she has no servant, she will come to the door herself, so be ready,"
he remarked as he knocked.</p>
<p>I had barely time to observe that the curtains to the window at my left
suddenly dropped, when a hasty step made itself heard within, and a quick
hand drew open the door; and I saw before me the woman whom I had observed
at the post-office, and whose action with the letters had struck me as
peculiar. I recognized her at first glance, though she was differently
dressed, and had evidently passed through some worry or excitement that
had altered the expression of her countenance, and made her manner what it
was not at that time, strained and a trifle uncertain. But I saw no reason
for thinking she remembered me. On the contrary, the look she directed
towards me had nothing but inquiry in it, and when Mr. Monell pushed me
forward with the remark, "A friend of mine; in fact my lawyer from New
York," she dropped a hurried old-fashioned curtsey whose only expression
was a manifest desire to appear sensible of the honor conferred upon her,
through the mist of a certain trouble that confused everything about her.</p>
<p>"We have come to ask a favor, Mrs. Belden; but may we not come in? "said
my client in a round, hearty voice well calculated to recall a person's
thoughts into their proper channel. "I have heard many times of your cosy
home, and am glad of this opportunity of seeing it." And with a blind
disregard to the look of surprised resistance with which she met his
advance, he stepped gallantly into the little room whose cheery red carpet
and bright picture-hung walls showed invitingly through the half-open door
at our left.</p>
<p>Finding her premises thus invaded by a sort of French <i>coup d'etat,</i>
Mrs. Belden made the best of the situation, and pressing me to enter also,
devoted herself to hospitality. As for Mr. Monell, he quite blossomed out
in his endeavors to make himself agreeable; so much so, that I shortly
found myself laughing at his sallies, though my heart was full of anxiety
lest, after all, our efforts should fail of the success they certainly
merited. Meanwhile, Mrs. Belden softened more and more, joining in the
conversation with an ease hardly to be expected from one in her humble
circumstances. Indeed, I soon saw she was no common woman. There was a
refinement in her speech and manner, which, combined with her motherly
presence and gentle air, was very pleasing. The last woman in the world to
suspect of any underhanded proceeding, if she had not shown a peculiar
hesitation when Mr. Monell broached the subject of my entertainment there.</p>
<p>"I don't know, sir; I would be glad, but," and she turned a very
scrutinizing look upon me, "the fact is, I have not taken lodgers of late,
and I have got out of the way of the whole thing, and am afraid I cannot
make him comfortable. In short, you will have to excuse me."</p>
<p>"But we can't," returned Mr. Monell. "What, entice a fellow into a room
like this"—and he cast a hearty admiring glance round the apartment
which, for all its simplicity, both its warm coloring and general air of
cosiness amply merited, "and then turn a cold shoulder upon him when he
humbly entreats the honor of staying a single night in the enjoyment of
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 less a
good-hearted, clever-headed young gentleman like my friend here."</p>
<p>"You are very good," she began, an almost weak love of praise showing
itself for a moment in her eyes; "but I have no room prepared. I have been
house-cleaning, and everything is topsy-turvy Mrs. Wright, now, over the
way——"</p>
<p>"My young friend is going to stop here," Mr. Mouell broke in, with frank
positiveness. "If I cannot have him at my own house,—and for certain
reasons it is not advisable,—I shall at least have the satisfaction
of knowing he is in the charge of the best housekeeper in R——."</p>
<p>"Yes," I put in, but without too great a show of interest; "I should be
sorry, once introduced here, to be obliged to go elsewhere."</p>
<p>The troubled eye wavered away from us to the door.</p>
<p>"I was never called inhospitable," she commenced; "but everything in such
disorder. What time would you like to come?"</p>
<p>"I was in hopes I might remain now," I replied; "I have some letters to
write, and ask nothing better than for leave to sit here and write them."</p>
<p>At the word letters I saw her hand go to her pocket in a movement which
must have been involuntary, for her countenance did not change, and she
made the quick reply:</p>
<p>"Well, you may. If you can put up with such poor accommodations as I can
offer, it shall not be said I refused you what Mr. Monell is pleased to
call a favor."</p>
<p>And, complete in her reception as she had been in her resistance, she gave
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 to bestow upon
her.</p>
<p>"I will see that a room is got ready for you in a very short space of
time," she said, upon re-entering. "Meanwhile, make yourself at home here;
and if you wish to write, why I think you will find everything for the
purpose in these drawers." And wheeling up a table to the easy chair in
which I sat, she pointed to the small compartments beneath, with an air of
such manifest desire to have me make use of anything and everything she
had, that I found myself wondering over my position with a sort of
startled embarrassment that was not remote from shame.</p>
<p>"Thank you; I have materials of my own," said I, and hastened to open my
bag and bring out the writing-case, which I always carried with me.</p>
<p>"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.</p>
<p>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 left on
the first floor alone.</p>
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