The Lamplighter Part 28

"Emily--to be sure, she's an angel, and never would impose upon anybody, least of all her own pet; but she'll have to play second fiddle herself, and I'm mistaken if she doesn't find it very hard to defend her rights and maintain a comfortable position in her father's enlarged family circle."

"So much the more need, then," said Gertrude, "that someone should be enlisted in her interests, to ward off the approach of every annoyance."

"Do you mean, then, to put yourself in the breach?" asked the doctor.

"I mean to accept Mr. Graham's invitation," replied Gertrude, "and join Emily at once; but I trust the harmony that seems to subsist between her and her new connections will continue undisturbed, so that I shall have no cause to take up arms on _her_ account, and on _my own_ I have not a single fear."

"Then you think you shall go?" said Mrs. Jeremy.

"I do," said Gertrude; "nothing but my duty to Mrs. Sullivan and her father led me to think of leaving Emily. That duty is at an end. I see from Mrs. Ellis's letters that Emily is not happy; and nothing which I can do to make her so must be neglected. Only think, Mrs. Jeremy, what a friend she has been to me."

"I know it," said Mrs. Jeremy, "and I dare say you will enjoy the journey, in spite of all the scarecrows the doctor sets up to frighten you; but it does seem a sacrifice for you to leave your comforts for such an uncertain sort of life."

"Sacrifice!" said the doctor; "it's the greatest sacrifice that ever I heard of! It is not merely giving up a good income of her own earning, and as pleasant a home as there is in Boston; it is relinquis.h.i.+ng all the independence that she has been striving after, and which she was so anxious to maintain."

"No, doctor," said Gertrude, warmly; "nothing that I do for _Emily's_ sake can be called a sacrifice; it is my greatest pleasure."

"Gerty always finds her pleasure in doing what is right," remarked Mrs.

Jeremy.

"The thought," said Gertrude, "that our dear Emily was dependent upon a stranger for all those little attentions that are only acceptable from those she loves, would make me miserable; our happiness for years has been in each other; and when one has suffered, the other has suffered also. I _must_ go to her; I cannot think of doing otherwise."

"I wish," muttered Dr. Jeremy, "that your sacrifice would be half appreciated. But Graham, I'll venture to say, thinks it will be the greatest favour to take you back again. Perhaps he addressed you as a beggar; it wouldn't be the first time he's done such a thing. I wonder what would have induced poor Philip Amory to go back. Has he made any apology in his letter for past unkindness?"

"I do not think he considered any to be needed," replied Gertrude.

"Then he didn't make any excuse for his ungentlemanly behaviour? I declare it's a shame you should be exposed to any more such treatment; but I always _did_ hear that women were self-forgetful in their friends.h.i.+p, and I believe it. Gertrude makes an excellent friend. Mrs.

Jeremy, we must cultivate her regard; and sometime or other, perhaps, make a loud call upon her services."

"And if ever you do, sir, I shall be ready to respond to it; if there is a person in the world who owes a debt to society, it is myself. I hear the world called cold, selfish, and unfeeling; but it has not been so to me. I should be ungrateful if I did not cherish a spirit of universal love; how much more so, if I did not feel bound, heart and hand, to those dear friends who have bestowed upon me such affection as no orphan ever found before!"

"Gertrude," said Mrs. Jeremy, "I believe that you were right in leaving Emily when you did, and that you are right in returning to her now; and, if your being such a good girl as you are is at all due to her, she certainly has a great claim upon you."

"She has a claim, indeed, Mrs. Jeremy! It was Emily who first taught me the difference between right and wrong----"

"And she is going to reap the benefit of that knowledge in you," said the doctor, in continuation of her remark. "That's fair! But if you are resolved to take this European tour, you will be busy enough with your preparations. Do you think Mr. W. will be willing to give you up?"

"I hope so," said Gertrude. "I am sorry to be obliged to ask it of him, for he has been very indulgent to me, and I have been absent from school two weeks out of the winter already; but as it will shortly be the summer vacation, he will, perhaps, be able to supply my place."

Mrs. Jeremy interested herself in Gertrude's arrangements, offered an attic-room for the storage of her furniture, gave up to her a dressmaker she had engaged for herself, and a plan was laid out, by which Gertrude could start for New York in less than a week.

Mr. W., on being applied to, relinquished Gertrude, though deeply regretting to lose so valuable an a.s.sistant; and after a few days occupied in preparation, she bade farewell to the tearful f.a.n.n.y Bruce, the bustling doctor, and his kind-hearted wife, all of whom accompanied her to the railroad station. She promised to write to the Jeremys; and they agreed to forward her any letters that might arrive from Willie.

In less than a fortnight from the time of her departure, Mrs. Ellis returned to Boston, and brought news of the safe conclusion of Gertrude's journey. A letter received a week after by Mrs. Jeremy announced that they should sail in a few days. She was, therefore, surprised when a second epistle was put into her hands, dated the day succeeding that on which she supposed Mr. Graham's party to have left the country. It was as follows:--

"NEW YORK, _April 29th_.

"MY DEAR MRS. JEREMY,--As yesterday was the day on which we expected to sail for Europe, you will be astonished to hear that we are yet in New York, and still more so to learn that the foreign tour is now postponed. Only two days since Mr. Graham was seized with the gout, and the attack was so violent as to threaten his life. Although to-day somewhat relieved, and considered by his physician out of immediate danger, he remains a great sufferer, and a sea-voyage is p.r.o.nounced impracticable. His great anxiety is to be at home; and, as soon as he can bear the journey, we shall hasten to the house in D----.I enclose a note for Mrs. Ellis. It contains various directions which Emily is desirous she should receive; and, as we did not know how to address her, I have sent it to you, trusting to your kindness to see it forwarded. Mrs. Graham and her nieces, who had been antic.i.p.ating much pleasure from going abroad, are, of course, greatly disappointed. It is particularly trying to Miss Clinton, as her father has been absent more than a year, and she was hoping to meet him in Paris.

"It is impossible that either me or Emily should regret a journey of which we felt only dread, and, were it not for Mr. Graham's illness being the cause of its postponement, we should find it hard not to realise a degree of satisfaction in the prospect of returning to the dear old place in D----, where we hope to be established in the course of the next month. I say _we_, for neither Mr. Graham nor Emily will hear of my leaving them again.

"With the kindest regards to yourself, and my friend the doctor,

"I am, yours very sincerely,

"GERTRUDE FLINT."

CHAPTER XXVI.

JEALOUSY.

Mr. Graham's country-house boasted a fine, old fas.h.i.+oned entry, with a door at either end, both of which usually stood open during the warm weather, admitting a current of air, and rendering the neighbourhood of the front entrance a favourite resort of the family, during the early hours of the day, when the sun had no access to the spot. Here, on a pleasant June morning, Isabel Clinton and her cousin, Kitty Ray, had made themselves comfortable.

Isabel had drawn a large arm-chair close to the door-sill, ensconced herself in it, and was gazing idly down the road. She was a beautiful girl, tall and well-formed, with a delicate complexion, clear blue eyes, and rich, light, flowing curls. The same lovely child, whom Gertrude had gazed upon with rapture, as, leaning against the window of her father's house, she once watched old True while he lit his lamp, had ripened into an equally lovely woman. At an early age deprived of her mother, and left for some years to the care of servants, she soon learned to appreciate, at more than their true value, her outward attractions; and her aunt, under whose tutelage she had been since she left school, did not counteract this undue self-admiration. An appearance of conscious superiority which distinguished her, and her independent air, might be attributed to her conviction that Belle Clinton, the beauty and the heiress, attired in a blue cashmere morning-dress, richly embroidered, and open in front, for the purpose of displaying an equally rich flounced cambric petticoat.

On a low step at her feet sat Kitty Ray, a complete contrast to her cousin in looks, manners and many points of character. She was a sweet little creature, lively, playful, and affectionate. She was so small that her childish manners became her; so full of spirits that her occasional rudeness claimed pardon on that score; and for all other faults her warm-heartedness and generous enthusiasm must plead an excuse to one who wished to love her as she wished and expected to be loved by everybody. She was a pretty girl, always bright and animated, mirthful and happy; fond of her cousin Belle, and sometimes influenced by her, though often enlisting on the opposite side of some contested question.

Unlike Belle, she was seldom well dressed, for she was very careless. On the present occasion her dark silk wrapper was half-concealed by a crimson flannel sack, which she held tightly around her, for she said it was a chilly morning, and she was half-frozen to death--she certainly would go and warm herself at the kitchen fire, if she did not fear encountering that _she-dragon_, Mrs. Ellis; she was sure she did not see, if they must sit in the doorway, why Belle couldn't come to the side-door, where the sun shone beautifully. "O, I forgot, though," added she; "her complexion!"

"Complexion!" said Belle; "I'm no more afraid of hurting my complexion than you are; I never freckle, or tan either."

"But you burn all up, and look like a fright."

"Well, if I didn't, I shouldn't go there to sit; I like to be at the front of the house, where I can see the pa.s.sing. I wonder who those people are coming up the road."

Kitty stood up, and looked as Belle pointed. After observing the approaching couple for a minute or two she exclaimed, "Why, that's Gertrude Flint! I wonder where she's been! And who can that be with her? I didn't know there was a beau to be had about here."

"Beau!" said Belle, sneeringly.

"And why not a beau, Cousin Belle? I'm sure he looks like one."

"I wouldn't give much for any of her beaux!" said Belle.

"Wouldn't you?" said Kitty. "Wait until you see who they are; you near-sighted people shouldn't decide in such a hurry. I can tell you that he is a gentleman you wouldn't object to walking with yourself; it's Mr. Bruce, the one we met in New Orleans."

"I don't believe it!" exclaimed Belle, starting up.

"You will soon have a chance to see for yourself; for he is coming home with her."

"_He is!_ What can he be walking with her for?"

"To show his taste, perhaps. I am sure he could not find more agreeable company."

"You and I don't agree about that," replied Belle. "I don't see anything very agreeable about her."