Unredeemed Pledges
Two men were walking along a public thoroughfare in New York. One ofthem was a young merchant--the other a man past the prime of life,and belonging to the community of Friends. They were inconversation, and the manner of the former, earnest and emphatic,was in marked contrast with the quiet and thoughtful air of theother."There is so much idleness and imposture among the poor," said themerchant, "that you never know when your alms are going to do harmor good. The beggar we just passed is able to work; and that womansitting at the corner with a sick child in her arms, would be farbetter off in the almshouse. No man is more willing to give than Iam, if I only knew where and when to give.""If we look around us carefully, Mr. Edwards," returned the Quaker,we need be at no loss on this subject. Objects enough will presentthemselves. Virtuous want is, in most cases, unobtrusive, and willsuffer rather than extend a hand for relief. We must seek forobjects of benevolence in by-places. We must turn aside intountrodden walks.""But even then," objected Mr. Edwards, "we cannot be certain thatidleness and vice are not at the basis of the destitution we find. Ihave had my doubts whether any who exercise the abilities which Godhas given them, need want for the ordinary comforts of life in thiscountry. In all cases of destitution, there is something wrong, youmay depend upon it.""Perhaps there is," said the Quaker. "Evil of some kind is ever thecause of destitution and wretchedness. Such bitter waters as thesecannot flow from a sweet fountain. Still, many are brought tosuffering through the evil ways of others; and many whose own wrongdoings have reacted upon them in unhappy consequences, deeply repentof the past, and earnestly desire to live better lives in future.Both need kindness, encouragement, and, it may be, assistance; andit is the duty of those who have enough and to spare, to stretchforth their hands to aid, comfort and sustain them.""Yes. That is true. But, how are we to know who are the real objectsof our benevolence?""We have but to open our eyes and see, Mr. Edwards," said theQuaker. "The objects of benevolence are all around us.""Show me a worthy object, and you will find me ready to relieve it,"returned the merchant. "I am not so selfish as to be indifferent tohuman suffering. But I think it wrong to encourage idleness andvice; and for this reason, I never give unless I am certain that theobject who presents himself is worthy.""True benevolence does not always require us to give alms," said theFriend. "We may do much to aid, comfort and help on with theirburdens our fellow travellers, and yet not bestow upon them what iscalled charity. Mere alms-giving, as thee has intimated, but toooften encourages vice and idleness. But thee desires to find aworthy object of benevolence. Let us see if we cannot find one, Whathave we here?" And as the Quaker said this he paused before abuilding, from the door of which protruded a red flag, containingthe words, "Auction this day." On a large card just beneath the flagwas the announcement, "Positive sale of unredeemed pledges.""Let us turn in here," said the Quaker. "No doubt we shall findenough to excite our sympathies."Mr. Edwards thought this a strange proposal; but he felt a littlecurious, and followed his companion without hesitation.The sale had already begun, and there was a small company assembled.Among them, the merchant noticed a young woman whose face waspartially veiled. She was sitting a little apart from the rest, anddid not appear to take any interest in the bidding. But he noticedthat, after an article was knocked off, she was all attention untilthe next was put up, and then, the moment it was named, relapsedinto a sort of listlessness or abstraction.The articles sold embraced a great variety of things useful andornamental. In the main they were made up of watches, silver plate,jewellery and wearing apparel. There were garments of every kind,quality and condition, upon which money to about a fourth of theirreal value had been loaned; and not having been redeemed, they werenow to be sold for the benefit of the pawnbroker.The company bid with animation, and article after article was soldoff. The interest at first awakened by the scene, new to the youngmerchant, wore off in a little while, and turning to his companionhe said--"I don't see that much is to be gained by staying here.""Wait a little longer, and perhaps thee will think differently,"returned the Quaker, glancing towards the young woman who has beenmentioned, as he spoke.The words had scarcely passed his lips, when the auctioneer took upa small gold locket containing a miniature, and holding it up, askedfor a bid."How much for this? How much for this beautiful gold locket andminiature? Give me a bid. Ten dollars! Eight dollars! Five dollars!Four dollars--why, gentlemen, it never cost less than fifty! Fourdollars! Four dollars! Will no one give four dollars for thisbeautiful gold locket and miniature? It's thrown away at thatprice."At the mention of the locket, the young woman came forward andlooked up anxiously at the auctioneer. Mr. Edwards could see enoughof her face to ascertain that it was an interesting and intelligentone, though very sad."Three dollars!" continued the auctioneer. But there was no bid."Two dollars! One dollar!""One dollar," was the response from a man who stood just in front ofthe woman. Mr. Edwards, whose eyes were upon the latter, noticedthat she became much agitated the moment this bid was made."One dollar we have! One dollar! Only one dollar!" cried theauctioneer. "Only one dollar for a gold locket and miniature worthforty. One dollar!""Nine shillings," said the young woman in a low, timid voice."Nine shillings bid! Nine shillings! Nine shillings!""Ten shillings," said the first bidder."Ten shillings it is! Ten shillings, and thrown away. Tenshillings!""Eleven shillings," said the girl, beginning to grow excited. Mr.Edwards, who could not keep his eyes off of her face, from which theveil had entirely fallen, saw that she was trembling with eagernessand anxiety."Eleven shillings!" repeated the auctioneer, glancing at the firstbidder, a coarse-looking man, and the only one who seemed disposedto bid against the young woman."Twelve shillings," said the man resolutely.A paleness went over the face of the other bidder, and a quicktremor passed through her frame."Twelve shillings is bid. Twelve shillings is bid. Twelveshillings!" And the auctioneer now looked towards the young womanwho, in a faint voice, said--"Thirteen shillings."By this time the merchant began to understand the meaning of whatwas passing before him. The miniature was that of a middle-agedlady; and it required no great strength of imagination to determinethat the original was the mother of the young woman who seemed soanxious to possess the locket."But how came it here?" was the involuntary suggestion to the mindof Mr. Edwards. "Who pawned it? Did she?""Fourteen shillings," said the man who was bidding, breaking in uponthe reflections of Mr. Edwards.The veil that had been drawn aside, fell instantly over the face ofthe young woman, and she shrunk back from her prominent position,yet still remained in the room."Fourteen shillings is bid. Fourteen shillings! Are you all done?Fourteen shillings for a gold locket and miniature. Fourteen!Once!---"The companion of Mr. Edwards glanced towards him with a meaninglook. The merchants for a moment bewildered, found his mind clearagain."Twice!" screamed the auctioneer. "Once! Twice! Three----""Twenty shillings," dropped from the lips of Mr. Edwards."Twenty shillings! Twenty shillings!" cried the auctioneer withrenewed animation. The man who had been bidding against the girlturned quickly to see what bold bidder was in the field: and most ofthe company turned with him. The young woman at the same time drewaside her veil and looked anxiously towards Mr. Edwards, who, as heobtained a fuller view of her face, was struck with it as familiar."Twenty-one shillings," was bid in opposition."Twenty-five," said the merchant, promptly.The first bidder, seeing that Mr. Edwards was determined to runagainst him, and being a little afraid that he might be left with aruinous bid on his hands, declined advancing, and the locket wasassigned to the young merchant, who, as soon as he had received it,turned and presented it to the young woman, saying as he did so--"It is yours."The young woman caught hold of it with an eager gesture, and aftergazing on it for a few moments, pressed it to her lips."I have not the money to pay for it," she said in a low sad voice,recovering herself in a few moments; and seeking to return theminiature."It is yours!" replied Mr. Edwards. Then thrusting back the hand shehad extended, and speaking with some emotion, he said--"Keepit--keep it, in Heaven's name!"And saying this he hastily retired, for he became conscious thatmany eyes were upon him; and he felt half ashamed to have betrayedhis weakness before a coarse, unfeeling crowd. For a few moments helingered in the street; but his companion not appearing, he went onhis way, musing on the singular adventure he had encountered. Themore distinctly he recalled the young woman's face, the morestrangely familiar did it seem.About an hour afterwards, as Mr. Edwards sat reading a letter, theQuaker entered his store."Ah, how do you do? I am glad to see you," said the merchant, hismanner more than usually earnest. "Did you see anything more of thatyoung woman?""Yes," replied the Quaker. "I could not leave one like her withoutknowing something of her past life and present circumstances. Ithink even you will hardly be disposed to regard her as an objectunworthy of interest.""No, certainly I will not. Her appearance, and the circumstancesunder which we found her, are all in her favor.""But we turned aside from the beaten path. We looked into a by-placeto us; or we would not have discovered her. She was not obtrusive.She asked no aid; but, with the last few shillings that remained toher in the world, had gone to recover, if possible, an unredeemedpledge--the miniature of her mother, on which she had obtained asmall advance of money to buy food and medicine for the dyingoriginal. This is but one of the thousand cases of real distressthat are all around us. We could see them if we did but turn asidefor a moment into ways unfamiliar to our feet.""Did you learn who she was, and anything of her condition?" askedMr. Edwards."Oh yes. To do so was but a common dictate of humanity. I would havefelt it as a stain upon my conscience to have left one like heruncared for in the circumstances under which we found her.""Did you accompany her home?""Yes; I went with her to the place she called her home--a room inwhich there was scarcely an article of comfort--and there learnedthe history of her past life and present condition. Does theeremember Belgrave, who carried on a large business in Maiden Lanesome years ago?""Very well. But, surely this girl is not Mary Belgrave?""Yes. It was Mary Belgrave whom we met at the pawnbroker's sale.""Mary Belgrave! Can it be possible? I knew the family had becomepoor; but not so poor as this!"And Mr. Edwards, much disturbed in mind, walked uneasily about thefloor. But soon pausing, he said--"And so her mother is dead!""Yes. Her father died two years ago and her mother, who has beensick ever since, died last week in abject poverty, leaving Maryfriendless, in a world where the poor and needy are but littleregarded. The miniature which Mary had secretly pawned in order tosupply the last earthly need of her mother, she sought by her laborto redeem; but ere she had been able to save up enough for thepurpose, the time for which the pledge had been taken, expired, andthe pawn broker refused to renew it. Under the faint hope that shemight be able to buy it in with the little pittance of money she hadsaved, she attended the sale where we found her."The merchant had resumed his seat, and although he had listenedattentively to the Quaker's brief history, he did not make anyreply, but soon became lost in thought. From this he was interruptedby his visitor, who said, as he moved towards the door--"I will bid thee good morning, friend Edwards.""One moment, if you please," said the merchant, arousing himself,and speaking earnestly, "Where does Mary Belgrave live?"The Friend answered the question, and, as Mr. Edwards did not seeminclined to ask any more, and besides fell back again into anabstract state, he wished him good morning and retired.The poor girl was sitting alone in her room sewing, late in theafternoon of the day on which the incident at the auction roomoccurred, musing, as she had mused for hours, upon the unexpectedadventure. She did not, in the excitement of the moment, know Mr.Edwards when he first tendered her the miniature; but when he saidwith peculiar emphasis and earnestness, turning away as hespoke--"Keep it, in Heaven's name!" she recognized him fully. Sincethat moment, she had not been able to keep the thought of him fromher mind. They had been intimate friends at one time; but this waswhile they were both very young. Then he had professed for her aboyish passion; and she had loved him with the childish fondness ofa young school-girl. As they grew older, circumstances separatedthem more; and though no hearts were broken in consequence, bothoften thought of the early days of innocence and affection withpleasure.Mary sat sewing, as we have said, late in the afternoon of the dayon which the incident at the auction room occurred, when there was atap at her door. On opening it, Mr. Edwards stood before her. Shestepped back a pace or two in instant surprise and confusion, and headvanced into the desolate room. In a moment, however, Maryrecovered herself, and with as much self-possession as, under thecircumstances, she could assume, asked her unexpected visitor totake a chair, which she offered him.Mr. Edwards sat down, feeling much oppressed. Mary was so changed ineverything, except in the purity and beauty of her countenance,since he had seen her years before, that his feelings werecompletely borne down. But he soon recovered himself enough to speakto her of what was in his mind. He had an old aunt, who had been afriend of Mary's mother, and from her he brought a message and anoffer of a home. Her carriage was at the door--it had been sent forher--and he urged her to go with him immediately. Mary had no goodreason for declining so kind an offer. It was a home that she mostof all needed; and she could not refuse one like this. "There is another unredeemed pledge," said Mr. Edwards,significantly, as he sat conversing with Mary about a year after shehad found a home in the house of his aunt. Allusion had been made tothe miniature of Mary's mother."Ah!" was the simple response."Yes. Don't you remember," and he took Mary's unresisting hand--"thepledge of this hand which you made me, I cannot tell how many yearsago?""That was a mere girlish pledge," ventured Mary, with drooping eyes."But one that the woman will redeem," said Edwards confidently,raising the hand to his lips at the same time, and kissing it.Mary leaned involuntarily towards him; and he, perceiving themovement, drew his arm around her, and pressed his lips to hercheek.It was no very long time afterwards before the pledge was redeemed.
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