"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."