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THE LEAVENWORTH CASE: A LAWYER'S STORY
by Anna Katharine Green

BOOK III

HANNAH 

XXVII

AMY BELDEN 

     "A merrier man 
Within the limits of becoming mirth, 
I never spent an hour's talk withal." 
                       --Love's Labour's Lost
     I HAD a client in R— by the name of Monell; and it was from him I 
had planned to learn the best way of approaching Mrs. Belden. When, 
therefore, I was so fortunate as to meet him, almost on my arrival, 
driving on the long road behind his famous trotter Alfred, I regarded 
the encounter as a most auspicious beginning of a very doubtful 
enterprise. 
     "Well, and how goes the day?" was his exclamation as, the first 
greetings passed, we drove rapidly into town. 
     "Your part in it goes pretty smoothly," I returned; and thinking I 
could never hope to win his attention to my own affairs till I had 
satisfied him in regard to his, I told him all I could concerning the 
law-suit then pending; a subject so prolific of question and answer, 
that we had driven twice round the town before he remembered he had a 

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letter to post. As it was an important one, admitting of no delay, we 
hasted at once to the post-office, where he went in, leaving me outside 
to watch the rather meagre stream of goers and comers who at that time 
of day make the post-office of a country town their place of 
rendezvous. Among these, for some reason, I especially noted one 
middle-aged woman; why, I cannot say; her appearance was anything but 
remarkable. And yet when she came out, with two letters in her hand, 
one in a large and one in a small envelope one in a large and one in a small 
envelope, and meeting my eye, hastily drew then under her shawl, I found 
myself wondering what was in her letters, and who she could be, that the 
casual glance of a stranger should unconsciously move her to an action so 
suspicious. But Mr. Monell's reappearance at the same moment diverted 
my attention, and in the interest of the conversation that followed, I soon 
forgot both the woman and her letters. For, determined he should have no 
opportunity to revert to that endless topic, a law case, I exclaimed with the 
first crack of the whip: "There, I knew there was something I wanted to 
ask you. Do you know a woman here named Belden?" 
     "A widow?" 
     "I don't know. Is her first name Amy?" 
     "Yes, Mrs. Amy Belden." 
     "That is the one. What can you tell me about her?" 
     "Well, she`s the last person I should expect to see you interested in. 
She is the very respectable relict of a deceased cabinet-maker of this town; 
lives in a little house down the street there, and if you have any forlorn old
 tramp to be lodged over night, or any destitute family of little ones to be 
looked after, she is the one to go to." 

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     "A respectable widow, you say. Any family?" 
     "No; lives alone; has a little income, I believe; but spends her time in 
plain sewing and such deeds of charity as one with small means, but willing 
heart, can find an opportunity for in a town like this. But why in the name 
of wonders do you ask?" 
     "Business," and I, "business. Mrs. Belden—don't mention it, by the 
way—has got mixed up in a case of mine, and I felt curious to know 
something about her. And I am not satisfied yet. The fact is, I would 
give something for the opportunity of studying this woman's character. 
Now, could n't you manage to get me introduced into her house in 
some way that would make it possible and proper for me to converse 
with her at my leisure? Business would thank you if you could." 
     "Well, I suppose it can be done. She used to take lodgers in the 
summer when the hotel was full, and might be induced to give a bed to 
a friend of mine who is very anxious to be near the post-office on account 
of a business telegram he is expecting, and which when it comes will 
demand his immediate attention." And Mr. Monell gave me a sly wink 
of his eye, little imagining how near the mark he had struck. 
     "You need not say that. Tell her I have a peculiar dislike to 
sleeping in a public house, and that you know of no one better fitted 
to accommodate me, for the short time I desire to be in town, than 
herself." 
     "And what will be said of my hospitality in allowing you under 
these circumstances to remain in any other house than my own?" 
     "I don't know; very hard things, no doubt; but I guess your 
hospitality can stand it." 
     "Well, if you persist, we will see what can be done." 

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And driving up to a neat white cottage of homely, but sufficiently attractive 
appearance, he stopped. 
     "This is her house," said he, jumping to the ground; "let's go in 
and see what we can do." 
     Glancing up at the windows, which were all closed save the two on 
the veranda overlooking the street, I thought to myself, "If she has 
anybody in hiding here, whose presence in the house she desires to keep 
secret, it is folly to hope she will take me in, however well 
recommended I may come." But, yielding to the example of my friend, I 
alighted in my turn and followed him up the short, grass-bordered walk 
to the front door. 
     "As she has no servant, she will come to the door herself, so be 
ready," he remarked as he knocked. 
     I had barely time to observe that the curtains to the window at my 
left suddenly dropped, when a hasty step made itself heard within, and 
a quick hand drew open the door; and I saw before me the woman whom I 
had observed at the post-office, and whose action with the letters had 
struck me as peculiar. I recognized her at first glance, though she was 
differently dressed, and had evidently passed through some worry or 
excitement that had altered the expression of her countenance, and made 
her manner what it was not at that time, strained and a trifle 
uncertain. But I saw no reason for thinking she remembered me. On the 
contrary, the look she directed towards me had nothing but inquiry in 
it, and when Mr. Monell pushed me forward with the remark, "A friend 
of mine; in fact my lawyer from New York," she dropped a hurried 
old-fashioned curtsey whose only expression vas a manifest desire to 
appear sensible of the honor conferred upon her, through the mist of a 
certain trouble that confused everything about her,

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     "We have come to ask a favor, Mrs. Belden; but may we not come in?" 
said my client in a round, hearty voice well calculated to recall a 
person's thoughts into their proper channel. "I have heard many times 
of your cosy home, and am glad of this opportunity of seeing it." And 
with a blind disregard to the look of surprised resistance with which 
she met his advance, he stepped gallantly into the little room whose 
cheery red carpet and bright picture-hung walls showed invitingly 
through the half-open door at our left. 
     Finding her premises thus invaded by a sort of French coup 
d'etat, Mrs. Belden made the best of the situation, and pressing me 
to enter also, devoted herself to hospitality. As for Mr. Monell, he 
quite blossomed out in his endeavors to make himself agreeable; so 
much so, that I shortly found myself laughing at his sallies, though my 
heart was full of anxiety lest, after all, our efforts should fail of 
the success they certainly merited. Meanwhile, Mrs. Belden softened 
more and more, joining in the conversation with an ease hardly to be 
expected from one in her humble circumstances. Indeed, I soon saw she 
was no common woman. There was a refinement in her speech and manner, 
which, combined with her motherly presence and gentle air, was very 
pleasing. The last woman in the world to suspect of any underhanded 
proceeding, if she had not shown a peculiar hesitation when Mr. Monell 
broached the subject of my entertainment there. 
     "I don't know, sir; I would be glad, but," and she turned a very 
scrutinizing look upon me, "the fact is, I have not taken lodgers of 
late, and I have got out of the way of the whole thing, and am afraid I 
cannot make him comfortable. In short, you will have to excuse me." 

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     "But we can't," returned Mr. Monell. "What, entice a fellow into a 
room like this" — and he cast a hearty admiring glance round the 
apartment which, for all its simplicity, both its warm coloring and 
general air of cosiness amply merited, "and then turn a cold shoulder 
upon him when he humbly entreats the honor of staying a single night in 
the enjoyment of its attractions? No, no, Mrs. Belden; I know you too 
well for that. Lazarus himself couldn't come to your door and be turned 
away; much less a good-hearted, clever-headed young gentleman like my 
friend here." 
     "You are very good," she began, an almost weak love of praise 
showing itself for a moment in her eyes; "but I have no room prepared. 
I have been house-cleaning, and everything is topsy-turvy. Mrs. Wright. 
now, over the way—" 
     "My young friend is going to stop here," Mr. Monell broke in, with 
frank positiveness. "If I cannot have him at my own house,—and for 
certain reasons it is not advisable,—I shall at least have the 
satisfaction of knowing he is in the charge of the best housekeeper in 
R—." 
     "Yes," I put in, but without too great a show of interest; "I 
should be sorry, once introduced here, to be obliged to go elsewhere." 
     The troubled eye wavered away from us to the door. 
     "I was never called inhospitable," she commenced; "but everything 
in such disorder. What time would you like to come?" 
     "I was in hopes I might remain now," I replied; "I have some 
letters to write, and ask nothing better than for leave to sit here and 
write them." 
     At the word letters I saw her hand go to her pocket in a movement 
which must have been involuntary, for 

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her countenance did not change, and she made the quick reply: 
     "Well, you may. If you can put up with such poor accommodations as 
I can offer, it shall not be said I refused you what Mr. Monell is 
pleased to call a favor." 
     And, complete in her reception as she had been in her resistance, 
she gave us a pleasant smile, and, ignoring my thanks, bustled out with 
Mr. Monell to the buggy, where she received my bag and what was, 
doubtless, more to her taste, the compliments he was now more than ever 
ready to bestow upon her. 
     "I will see that a room is got ready for you in a very short space 
of time," she said, upon re-entering. "Meanwhile, make yourself at 
home here; and if you wish to write, why I think you will find 
everything for the purpose in these drawers." And wheeling up a table 
to the easy chair in which I sat, she pointed to the small compartments 
beneath, with an air of such manifest desire to have me make use of 
anything and everything she had, that I found myself wondering over my 
position with a sort of startled embarrassment that was not remote from 
shame. 
     "Thank you; I have materials of my own," said I, and hastened to 
open my bag and bring out the writing-case, which I always carried with 
me. 
     "Then I will leave you," said she; and with a quick bend and a 
short, hurried look out of the window, she hastily quitted the room. 
     I could hear her steps cross the hall, go up two or three stairs, 
pause, go up the rest of the flight, pause again, and then pass on. I 
was left on the first floor alone. 

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