A LADY, whom we will call Mrs. Harding, touched with the destitutecondition of a poor, sick widow, who had three small children,determined, from an impulse of true humanity, to awaken, ifpossible, in the minds of some friends and neighbours, an interestin her favour. She made a few calls, one morning, with this end inview, and was gratified to find that her appeal made a favourableimpression. The first lady whom she saw, a Mrs. Miller, promised toselect from her own and children's wardrobe a number of cast-offgarments for the widow, and to aid her in other respects, at thesame time asking Mrs. Harding to call in on the next day, when shewould be able to let her know what she could do.
Pleased with her reception, and encouraged to seek further aid forthe widow, Mrs. Harding withdrew and took her way to the house ofanother acquaintance. Scarcely had she left, when a lady, namedLittle, dropped in to see Mrs. Miller. To her the latter said, soonafter her entrance:
"I've been very much interested in the case of a poor widow thismorning. She is sick, with three little children dependent on her,and destitute of almost every thing. Mrs. Harding was telling meabout it."
"Mrs. Harding!" The visitor's countenance changed, and she lookedunutterable things. "I wonder!" she added, in well assumed surprise,and then was silent.
"What's the matter with Mrs. Harding?" asked Mrs. Miller.
"I should think," said Mrs. Little, "that she was in nice business,running around, gossiping about indigent widows, when some of herown relatives are so poor they can hardly keep soul and bodytogether."
"Is this really so?" asked Mrs. Miller.
"Certainly it is. I had it from my chambermaid, whose sister is cooknext door to where a cousin of Mrs. Harding's lives, and she saysthey are, one half of their time, she really believes, in a starvingcondition."
"But does Mrs. Harding know this?"
"She ought to know it, for she goes there sometimes, I hear."
"She didn't come merely to gossip about the poor widow," said Mrs.Miller. "Her errand was to obtain something to relieve hernecessities."
"Did you give her any thing?" asked Mrs. Little.
"No; but I told her to call and see me to-morrow, when I would havesomething for her."
"Do you want to know my opinion of this matter?" said Mrs. Little,drawing herself up, and assuming a very important air.
"What is your opinion?"
"Why, that there is no poor widow in the case at all."
"Mrs. Little!"
"You needn't look surprised. I'm in earnest. I never had much faithin Mrs. Harding, at the best."
"I am surprised. If there was no poor widow in the case, what didshe want with charity?"
"She has poor relations of her own, for whom, I suppose, she'sashamed to beg. So you see my meaning now."
"You surely wrong her."
"Don't believe a word of it. At any rate, take my advice, and be thealmoner of your own bounty. When Mrs. Harding comes again, ask herthe name of this poor widow, and where she resides. If she gives youa name and residence, go and see for yourself."
"I will act on your suggestion," said Mrs. Miller. "Though I canhardly make up my mind to think so meanly of Mrs. Harding; still,from the impression your words produce, I deem it only prudent tobe, as you term it, the almoner of my own bounty."
The next lady upon whom Mrs. Harding called, was a Mrs. Johns, andin her mind she succeeded in also awakening an interest for the poorwidow.
"Call and see me to-morrow," said Mrs. Johns, "and I'll havesomething for you."
Not long after Mrs. Harding's departure, Mrs. Little called, in herround of gossipping visits, and to her Mrs. Johns mentioned the caseof the poor widow, that matter being, for the time, uppermost in herthoughts.
"Mrs. Harding's poor widow, I suppose," said Mrs. Little, in ahalf-sneering, half-malicious tone of voice.
Mrs. Johns looked surprised, as a matter of course.
"What do you mean?" she asked.
"Oh, nothing, much. Only I've heard of this destitute widow before."
"You have?"
"Yes, and between ourselves,"--the voice of Mrs. Little became lowand confidential--"it's the opinion of Mrs. Miller and myself, thatthere is no poor widow in the case."
"Mrs. Little! You astonish me! No poor widow in the case! I can'tunderstand this. Mrs. Harding was very clear in her statement. Shedescribed the widow's condition, and very much excited mysympathies. What object can she have in view?"
"Mrs. Miller and I think," said the visitor, "and with good reason,that this poor widow is only put forward as a cover."
"As a cover to what?"
"To some charities that she has reasons of her own for not wishingto make public."
"Still in the dark. Speak out more plainly."
"Plainly, then, Mrs. Johns, we have good reasons for believing, Mrs.Miller and I, that she is begging for some of her own poorrelations. Mrs. Miller is going to see if she can find the widow."
"Indeed! That's another matter altogether. I promised to dosomething in the case, but shall now decline. I couldn't havebelieved such a thing of Mrs. Harding! But so it is; you never knowpeople until you find them out."
"No, indeed, Mrs. Johns. You never spoke a truer word in your life,"replied Mrs. Little, emphatically.
On the day following, after seeing the poor widow, ministering tosome of her immediate wants, and encouraging her to expect moresubstantial relief, Mrs. Harding called, as she had promised to do,on Mrs. Miller. A little to her surprise, that lady received herwith unusual coldness; and yet, plainly, with an effort to seemfriendly.
"You have called about the poor widow you spoke of yesterday?" saidMrs. Miller.
"Such is the object of my present visit."
"What is her name?"
"Mrs. Aitken."
"Where did you say she lived?"
The residence was promptly given.
"I've been thinking," said Mrs. Miller, slightly colouring, and withsome embarrassment, "that I would call in and see this poor womanmyself."
"I wish you would," was the earnest reply of Mrs. Harding. "I amsure, if you do so, all your sympathies will be excited in herfavour."
As Mrs. Harding said this, she arose, and with a manner that showedher feelings to be hurt, as well as mortified, bade Mrs. Miller aformal good-morning, and retired. Her next call was upon Mrs. Johns.Much to her surprise, her reception here was quite as cold; in fact,so cold, that she did not even refer to the object of her visit, andMrs. Johns let her go away without calling attention to it herself.So affected was she by the singular, and to her unaccountable changein the manner of these ladies, that Mrs. Harding had no heart tocall upon two others, who had promised to do something for thewidow, but went home disappointed, and suffering from a troubled anddepressed state of feeling.
So far as worldly goods were concerned, Mrs. Harding could not boastvery large possessions. She was herself a widow; and her income,while it sufficed, with economy, to supply the moderate wants of herfamily, left her but little for luxuries, the gratification oftaste, or the pleasures of benevolence. Quick to feel the wants ofthe needy, no instance of destitution came under her observationthat she did not make some effort toward procuring relief.
What now was to be done? She had excited the sick woman's hopes--hadpromised that her immediate wants, and those of her children, shouldbe supplied. From her own means, without great self-denial, thiscould not be effected. True, Mrs. Miller and Mrs. Johns had bothpromised to call upon the poor widow, and, in person, administerrelief. But Mrs. Harding did not place much reliance on this; forsomething in the manner of both ladies impressed her with the ideathat their promise merely covered a wish to recede from their firstbenevolent intentions.
"Something must be done" said she, musingly. And then she setherself earnestly to the work of devising ways and means. Wherethere is a will there is a way. No saying was ever truer than this.
It was, perhaps, a week later, that Mrs. Little called again uponMrs. Miller.
"What of Mrs. Harding's poor widow?" said the former, after someill-natured gossip about a mutual friend.
"Oh, I declare! I've never thought of the woman since," replied Mrs.Miller, in a tone of self-condemnation. "And I promised Mrs. Hardingthat I would see her. I really blame myself."
"No great harm done, I presume," said Mrs. Little.
"I don't know about that. I'm hardly prepared to think so meanly ofMrs. Harding as you do. At any rate, I'm going this day to redeem mypromise."
"What promise?"
"The promise I made Mrs. Harding, that I would see the woman shespoke of, and relieve her, if in need."
"You'll have all your trouble for nothing."
"No matter, I'll clear my conscience, and that is something. Come,wont you go with me?"
Mrs. Little declined the invitation at first; but, strongly urged byMrs. Miller, she finally consented. So the two ladies forthwith tooktheir way toward the neighbourhood in which Mrs. Harding had saidthe needy woman lived. They were within a few doors of the house,which had been very minutely described by Mrs. Harding, when theymet Mrs. Johns.
"Ah!" said the latter, with animation, "just the person, of allothers, I most wished to see. How could you, Mrs. Miller, so greatlywrong Mrs. Harding?"
"Me wrong her, Mrs. Johns? I don't understand you." And Mrs. Millerlooked considerably astonished.
"Mrs. Little informed me that you had good reasons for believing allthis story about a poor widow to be a mere subterfuge, got up tocover some doings of her own that Mrs. Harding was ashamed to bringto the light."
"Mrs. Little!" There was profound astonishment in the tones of Mrs.Miller, and her eyes had in them such an indignant light, as shefixed them upon her companion, that the latter quailed under hergaze.
"Acting from this impression," resumed Mrs. Johns, "I declinedplacing at her disposal the means of relief promised; but, instead,told her that I would myself see the needy person for whom she askedaid. This I have, until now, neglected to do; and this neglect, orindifference I might rather call it, has arisen from a belief thatthere was no poor widow in the case. Wrong has been done, Mrs.Miller, great wrong! How could you have imagined such baseness ofMrs. Harding?"
"And there is a poor, sick widow, in great need?" said Mrs.Miller, now speaking calmly, and with regained self-possession.
"There is a sick widow," replied Mrs. Johns, "but not at present ingreat need. Mrs. Harding has supplied immediate wants."
"Well, Mrs. Little!" Mrs. Miller again turned her eyes, searchingly,upon her companion.
"I--I--thought so. It was my impression--I had good reasonfor--I--I" stammered Mrs. Little.
"It should have been enough for you to check a benevolent impulse inmy case by your unfounded suggestions. Not content with this,however, you must use my name in still further spreading your unjustsuspicions, and actually make me the author of charges against anoble-minded woman, which had their origin in your own evilthoughts."
"I will not bear such language!" said the offended Mrs. Little,indignantly; and turning with an angry toss of the head, she leftthe ladies to their own reflections.
"I am taught one good lesson from this circumstance," said Mrs.Miller, as they walked away; "and that is, never to even seem tohave my good opinion of another affected by the allegations andsurmises of a social gossip. Such people always suppose the worst,and readily pervert the most unselfish actions into moral offences.The harm they do is incalculable."
"And, as in the present case," remarked Mrs. Johns, "they makeothers responsible for their base suggestions. Had Mrs. Little notcoupled your name with the implied charges against Mrs. Harding, mymind would not have been poisoned against her."
"While not a breath of suspicion had ever crossed mine until Mrs.Little came in, and wantonly intercepted the stream of benevolenceabout to flow forth to a needy, and, I doubt not, most worthyobject."
"We have made of her an enemy. At least you have; for you spoke toher with smarting plainness," said Mrs. Johns.
"Better the enmity of such than their friendship," replied Mrs.Miller. "Their words of detraction cannot harm so much as the poisonof evil thoughts toward others, which they ever seek to infuse. Yourdearest friend is not safe from them, if she be pure as an angel.Let her name but pass your lips, and instantly it is breathed upon,and the spotless surface grows dim."
THE END.
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