CONSTANCE ALLERTON;
OR,
THE MOURNING SUITS.
"But I have that within which passeth show."—Shakspeare.
Mr. Allerton, a merchant of Philadelphia, had for some years been doing business to considerable advantage, when a sudden check was put to his prosperity by the unexpected failure of a house for which he had endorsed to a very large amount. There was no alternative but to surrender everything to his creditors; and this he did literally and conscientiously. He brought down his mind to his circumstances; and as, at that juncture, the precarious state of the times did not authorize any hope of success if he recommenced business (as he might have done) upon borrowed capital, he gladly availed himself of a vacant clerkship in one of the principal banks of the city.
His salary, however, would have been scarcely adequate to the support of his family, had he not added something to his little stipend by employing his leisure hours in keeping the books of a merchant. He removed with his wife and children to a small house in a remote part of the city; and they would, with all his exertions, have been obliged to live in the constant exercise of the most painful economy, had it not been for the aid they derived from his sister Constance Allerton. Since the death of her parents, this young lady had resided at New Bedford with her maternal aunt, Mrs. Ilford, a quakeress, who left her a legacy of ten thousand dollars.
After the demise of her aunt, Miss Allerton took lodgings at a private house in New Bedford; but on hearing of her brother's misfortunes, she wrote to know if it would be agreeable to him and to his family for her to remove to Philadelphia, and to live with them—supposing that the sum she would pay for her accommodation might, in their present difficulties, prove a welcome addition to their income. This proposal was joyfully acceded to, as Constance was much beloved by every member of her brother's family, and had kept up a continual intercourse with them by frequent letters, and by an annual visit of a few weeks to Philadelphia.
At this period, Constance Allerton had just completed her twenty-third year. She had a beautiful face, a fine graceful figure, and a highly cultivated mind. With warm feelings and deep sensibility, she possessed much energy of character—a qualification which, when called forth by circumstances, is often found to be as useful in a woman as in a man. Affectionate, generous, and totally devoid of all selfish considerations, Constance had nothing so much at heart as the comfort and happiness of her brother's family; and to become an inmate of their house was as gratifying to her as it was to them. She furnished her own apartment, and shared it with little Louisa, the youngest of her three nieces, a lovely child about ten years old. She insisted on paying the quarter bills of her nephew Frederic Allerton, and volunteered to complete the education of his sisters, who were delighted to receive their daily lessons from an instructress so kind, so sensible, and so competent. Exclusive of these arrangements, she bestowed on them many little presents, which were always well-timed and judiciously selected; though, to enable her to purchase these gifts, she was obliged, with her limited income of six hundred dollars, to deny herself many gratifications, and, indeed, conveniences, to which she had hitherto been accustomed, and the want of which she now passed over with a cheerfulness and delicacy which was duly appreciated by the objects of her kindness.
In this manner the family had been living about a twelvemonth, when Mr. Allerton was suddenly attacked by a violent and dangerous illness, which was soon accompanied by delirium; and in a few days it brought him to the brink of the grave.
His disease baffled the skill of an excellent physician; and the unremitting cares of his wife and sister could only effect a slight alleviation of his sufferings. He expired on the fifth day, without recovering his senses, and totally unconscious of the presence of the heart-struck mourners that were weeping round his bed.