"But the cap, and the voilette—I never ordered them, and you charge them thirty shillings more."
"Why you see, ma'am, they make the whole so complete, so suitable, I thought it was a pity not to put them in—you know you could have returned them if they were not approved of."
"But you sent to say it would be but a trifle more."
"No more is it, Miss Leslie. Why the lace is dirt-cheap at that price; and it will wash up and trim a straw bonnet—wash and wear forever; as for the bill, pray don't make yourself uneasy about it; you can take your own time—pay me at your convenience."
What could Constance do? She had not five shillings to dispose of; and, fearing to annoy her father, or cause some inquiry, had foolishly allowed him to suppose she had received her usual present from aunt Appleton; she had even diverted some of the housekeeping money to make her accustomed presents to her father and brothers, their share of her birthday gift. The sigh with which Mr. Leslie accepted her little offering smote her severely; it told how much more grateful he would have felt had she thrown it into the weekly allowance.
Five pounds seems but a very small sum, but when it is to be saved up by pence its magnitude increases fearfully; it is almost a hopeless undertaking. Constance was now fairly immersed in that slough of despond, debt; for instead of paying away her money regularly, and in order, it was here a little and there a little. Her life was a perfect scramble; a perpetual staving off, while her small bills accumulated. Mrs. Grey had her now completely in her power; she was obliged to supply herself from her, at credit prices, having always forestalled her income, and though constantly endeavoring to economize, and in essentials scarcely so well dressed as in former times, her expenses were at least doubled.
Having acquired the habit of running up bills, it required more strength of mind than she possessed to dispense with a hundred little superfluities, that, had she been obliged to pay for them on the spot, would have been instantly relinquished; but as is too often the case, while the money still glittered in her purse, she forgot the numerous calls she was preparing for it. Nor did the mischief end here; she was no longer able to pay her servants' wages; they became sulky, then saucy; the work was neglected, provisions wasted; and yet she neither could nor dared discharge them, so much did she fear her father's learning her heavy arrears. These annoyances, and constant corroding anxieties, brought on a low nervous fever; change of scene and air were ordered, but these could not be obtained without expense; and this, and the dread of any discovery during her absence, quite nullified the good effects of the prescription. Her debts had gradually, though almost imperceptibly amounted to about fifty pounds, a sum she had no present means of paying; she had learned to tremble at the sound of a single knock, and, by contemptible excuses, and frivolous pretexts for delay, was slowly undermining her father's credit.
It is a long time ere the "master" awakes to the feeling that his home is uncomfortable, or is aware of all that goes on within it, especially if he be in business. He hurries away in the morning, and ere he returns at evening things have assumed a kind of company aspect; besides, habit throws a vail over many discrepancies a stranger can easily perceive. Constance's wretched health also accounted for many errors of management; and Mr. Leslie, generally a keen, shrewd man, was blind to the state of his domestic affairs. His daughter worked so hard to retrieve her lost ground; his and his sons' linen was mended almost beyond comfort; he had discovered her busy fabricating pretty knick-knacks for which she hoped to obtain an unsuspected sale; he felt as if it would seem brutal to pry into her economy. Poor thing, she answered all the advertisements by which "ladies and gentlemen are offered an income of two pounds a week, while practicing an elegant accomplishment," but the papier maché and earthen stamping trade were already overstocked with workers; she only increased her difficulties by the outlay.
At this crisis, when at her wits' end, an unexpected haven appeared. She was a pretty, lady-like girl; and Allan Macdonald, a young merchant, and a rising man, chose to fall in love with her. There are many different reasons for accepting a man besides simply loving him; some girls are afraid of dying old maids; others do not know how to say "no;" others are ambitious; others mercenary; others wish to please papa and mamma; and others wish to spite some particular friend. Constance married from none of these causes; she loved—no, liked, respected Allan, and felt grateful for his preference; but her prevailing feeling was that the wedding would keep her out of her difficulties. There would be the money for her trousseau, and of course presents from her relations; and out of these she could surely squeeze enough to clear the greater part, if not all her debts. Allan, too, would be sure to make her a liberal allowance, and she could save something from that; once free, it would be a lesson for life.
Things seldom turn out exactly as we expect. The presents made her, though handsome, could not be turned to account; work-tables and silver tea-pots are not very serviceable in a lady's wardrobe; and though her father had strained every nerve, he did not give her more than one half of what she had reckoned on. She ventured to petition for more.