She spoke in a low voice, fearing to awaken Mr. Graham. Mr. Bruce, in a whisper, remarked, as he dangled them above her head, "I thought they were pretty when I gathered them, but they suffer from the comparison. Miss Gertrude," and he gave a meaning look at the roses in her cheeks.
Gertrude, to whom this was a stale compliment, coming from Mr. Bruce, took no notice of it, but, rising, advanced to make her exit by the front-door, saying, "I will go across the piazza, Mr. Bruce, and send the ladies word that you are here."
"O, pray, don't!" said he, putting himself in her way. "It would be cruel; I haven't the slightest wish to see them." He so effectually prevented her, that she was unwillingly compelled to retreat from the door and resume her seat. As she did so, she took her work from her pocket, her countenance in the meantime expressing vexation.
Mr. Bruce looked triumphant.
"Miss Gertrude," said he, "will you oblige me by wearing these flowers in your hair to-day?"
"I do not wear gay flowers," replied Gertrude, without lifting her eyes from the piece of muslin on which she was employed.
Supposing this to be on account of her mourning (for she wore a plain black dress), he selected the white buds from the rest, and, presenting them to her, begged that, for his sake, she would display them in contrast with her dark silken braids.
"I am much obliged to you," said Gertrude; "I never saw more beautiful roses, but I am not accustomed to be so much dressed, and, believe me, you must excuse me."
"Then you won't take my flowers?"
"Certainly I will, with pleasure," said she, rising, "if you will let me get a glass of water, and place them in the parlour, where we can all enjoy them."
"I did not cut my flowers, and bring them here for the benefit of the whole household," said Ben, in a half-offended tone. "If you won't wear them, Miss Gertrude, I will offer them to somebody that will."
This, he thought, would alarm her, for his vanity was such that he attributed her behaviour wholly to coquetry.
"I will punish her," thought he, as he tied the roses together again, and arranged them for presentation to Kitty, who he knew would be flattered to receive them.
"Where's Fanny to-day," asked Gertrude, anxious to divert the conversation.
"I don't know," answered Ben, which implied that he had no idea of talking about Fanny.
"How attentive you are to your work!" said he, at last: "your eyes seemed nailed to it. I wish I were as attractive as that piece of muslin!"
"I wish you were as inoffensive," thought Gertrude.
"I do not think you take much pains to entertain me," added he, "when I've come here on purpose to see you."
"I thought you came by Mrs. Graham's invitation," said Gertrude.
"And didn't I have to court Kitty for an hour in order to get it?"
"If you obtained it by artifice," said Gertrude, smiling, "you do not deserve to be entertained."
"It is much easier to please Kitty than you," remarked Ben.
"Kitty is very amiable and pleasant," said Gertrude.
"Yes; but I'd give more for one smile from you than——"
Gertrude now interrupted him with, "Ah! here is an old friend coming to see us; please let me pass, Mr. Bruce?"
The gate at the end of the yard swung to as she spoke, and Ben, looking in that direction, saw the person whom Gertrude seemed desirous to go and meet.
"Don't be in such a hurry to leave me!" said Ben; "that little crone, whose coming seems to give you so much satisfaction, can't get here this half hour, at the rate she is travelling."
"She is an old friend," replied Gertrude, "I must go and welcome her." Her countenance expressed so much earnestness that Mr. Bruce was ashamed to persist in his incivility, and, rising, permitted her to pass. Miss Patty Pace was over-joyed at seeing Gertrude, and commenced waving, in a theatrical manner, a huge feather fan, her favourite mode of salutation. As she drew near, Miss Patty took her by both hands, and stood talking with her some minutes. They entered the house at the side door, and Ben, thus disappointed of Gertrude's return, sallied into the garden in hopes to attract the notice of Kitty.
Ben Bruce had such confidence in the power of wealth and a high station in fashionable life that it never occurred to him to doubt that Gertrude would gladly accept his hand and fortune if they were placed at her disposal. Many a worldly-wise mother had sought his acquaintance; many a young lady of property and rank had received his attention with favour, and believing, as he did, that he had money enough to purchase. He determined to win Gertrude's good opinion and affection; and although more interested in her than he was aware of himself, he at present made that his ultimate object. He felt conscious that as yet she had given no evidence of his success; and having resolved to resort to some new means of winning her, he, with a too common baseness, fixed upon a method which was calculated, if successful, to end in the mortification, if not the unhappiness, of a third party. He intended, by marked devotion to Kitty Ray, to excite the jealousy of Gertrude.
A half-hour before dinner Mrs. Graham and her nieces, Mr. Bruce, his sister Fanny, and Lieutenant Osborne, as they sat in the large room, had their curiosity much excited by the merriment which existed in Emily's room. Gertrude's clear laugh was distinguishable, and even Emily joined in the outburst, while another person appeared to be of the party, as a most singular voice mingled with the rest.
Kitty ran to the entry two or three times to listen, and at last returned with the announcement that Gertrude was coming down stairs with the very queen of witches. Presently Gertrude opened the door, which Kitty had slammed behind her, and ushered in Miss Patty Pace, who advanced with measured, mincing steps to Mrs. Graham, and, stopping in front of her, made a low curtsey.
"How do you do, ma'am?" said Mrs. Graham, half inclined to believe that Gertrude was playing off a joke upon her.
"This, I presume, is the mistress," said Miss Patty.
Mrs. Graham acknowledged her claim to that title.
"A lady of presence!" said Miss Patty, to Gertrude, in an audible whisper, pronouncing each syllable with a manner and emphasis peculiar to herself. Then, turning to Belle, who was shrinking into the shadow of a curtain, she approached her, held up both her hands in astonishment, and exclaimed, "Miss Isabella, as I still enjoy existence! and radiant, too, as the morning! Bless my heart! how your youthful charms have expanded!"
Belle had recognised Miss Pace the moment she entered the room, but was ashamed to acknowledge the acquaintance of so eccentric an individual, and would have still feigned ignorance, but Kitty now came forward, exclaiming, "Why, Miss Pace, where did you come from?"
"Miss Catharina," said Miss Pace, taking her hands in an ecstasy of astonishment, "then you know me! Blessings on your memory of an old friend!"
"Certainly, I knew you in a minute; you're not so easily forgotten, I assure you. Belle, don't you remember Miss Pace? It's at your house I've always seen her."
"Oh, is it she?" said Belle, with a poor attempt to conceal the fact that she had any previous knowledge of a person who had been a frequent visitor at her father's house, and was held in esteem by both her parents.
"I apprehend," said Miss Patty to Kitty, in the same loud whisper, "that she carries a proud heart." Then, without having appeared to notice the gentlemen, who were directly behind her, she added, "Sparks, I see Miss Catharina, young sparks! Whose?—yours or hers?"
Kitty laughed, for she saw that the young men heard her, and were much amused, and replied without hesitation, "O mine, Miss Patty, mine, both of 'em!" Miss Patty now looked around the room, and, missing Mr. Graham, advanced to his wife, saying, "And where, madam, is the bridegroom?"
Mrs. Graham, a little confused, replied that her husband would be in presently, and invited Miss Pace to be seated.
"No, mistress, I am obliged to you; I have an inquiring mind, and, with your leave, will take a survey of the apartment. I love to see everything that is modern." She then examined the pictures upon the walls, but had not proceeded far before she turned to Gertrude and asked, loud enough to be heard, "Gertrude, my dear, what have they done with the second wife?" Gertrude looked surprised, and Miss Pace corrected her remark, saying, "Oh, it is the counterfeit that I have reference to; the original, I am aware, departed long since; but where is the counterfeit of the second Mrs. Graham? It always hung here, if my memory serves me."
Gertrude whispered a reply to this question, and Miss Pace then uttered the following soliloquy: "The garret! well, 'tis the course of nature; what is new obliteratesthe recollection, even, of the old."
She now linked her arm in Gertrude's, and made her the companion of her survey. When they had completed the circuit of the room, she stopped in front of the group of young people, all of whom were eyeing her with great amusement, and claimed the acquaintance of Mr. Bruce, and asked to be introduced to that member of the war department, as she styled Lieutenant Osborne. Kitty introduced her with great formality, and at the same time presented the lieutenant to Gertrude. A chair was now brought, Miss Patty joined their circle and entertained them until dinner time. Gertrude again sought Emily's room.
At the table, Gertrude sat next to Emily, whose wants she always made her care, and with Miss Patty on the other side, had no time or attention to bestow on anyone else; much to the chagrin of Mr. Bruce, who was anxious she should observe his assiduous devotion to Kitty, whose hair was adorned with the moss-rose buds, and her face with smiles.
Belle was also made happy by the marked admiration of the young officer. Occasionally, some remark made by Miss Pace irresistibly attracted the attention of every one at the table, and extorted either the laughter it was intended to excite, or a mirth which, though perhaps ill-timed, it was impossible to repress.
Mr. Graham treated Miss Patty with politeness and attention, and Mrs. Graham spared no pains to bring out the old lady's conversational powers. She found that Miss Patty was acquainted with everybody, and made most amusing comments upon almost every person who became the topic of conversation. Mr. Graham at last led her to speak of herself and her lonely mode of life; and Fanny Bruce, who sat next, asked her bluntly, why she never got married.
"Ah, my young miss," said she, "we all wait our time, and I may take a companion yet."
"You should," said Mr. Graham. "Now you have property, Miss Pace, and ought to share it with some nice thrifty man."
"I have but an insignificant trifle of worldly wealth," said Miss Pace, "and am not as youthful as I have been; but I may suit myself with a companion, notwithstanding. I approve of matrimony, and have my eye upon a young man."
"A young man!" exclaimed Fanny Bruce, laughing.
"O yes, Miss Frances," said Miss Patty; "I am an admirer of youth, and of everything that is modern. Yes, I cling to life—I cling to life."
"Certainly," remarked Mrs. Graham. "Miss Pace must marry somebody younger than herself; someone to whom she can leave all her property, if he should happen to outlive her."
"Yes," said Mr. Graham; "at present you would not know how to make a will, unless you left all your money to Gertrude, here; I rather think she would make good use of it."
"That would certainly be a consideration to me," said Miss Pace; "I should dread the thought of having my little savings squandered. Now, I know there's more than a sufficiency of pauper population; and plenty that would be glad of legacies; but I have no intention of bestowing on such. Why, sir, nine-tenths of them willalwaysbe poor. No, no! I shouldn't give to such! No, no! I have other intentions."
"Miss Pace," asked Mr. Graham, "what has become of General Pace's family?"
"All dead!" replied Miss Patty, promptly, "all dead!I made a pilgrimage to the grave of that branch of the family. It was a touching scene," said she in a pathetic tone. "There was a piece of grassy ground, belted about with an iron railing, and in the centre a beautiful white marble monument, in which they were all buried; it was pure as alabaster, and on it was inscribed these lines:
'Pace.'"
'Pace.'"
"What were the lines?" inquired Mrs. Graham.
"Pace, ma'am, Pace; nothing else."
Solemn as was the subject, a universal titter pervaded the circle: and Mrs. Graham, perceiving that Kitty and Fanny would soon burst into uncontrollable fits of laughter, made the move for the company to quit the table.
The gentlemen did not care to linger, and followed the ladies into the wide entry, the coolness of which invited every one to loiter there during the heat of the day. Miss Patty and Fanny Bruce compelled the unwilling Gertrude to join the group there assembled; and Mrs. Graham, who could not forego her afternoon nap, was the only one who absented herself.
So universal was the interest Miss Patty excited, that all private dialogue was suspended, and close attention given to whatever topic the old lady was discussing.
Belle maintained a slightly scornful expression of countenance, and tried with partial success to divert Lieutenant Osborne's thoughts into another channel; but Kitty was so delighted with Miss Pace's originality, that she made no attempt at any exclusive conversation, and, with Mr. Bruce sitting beside her and joining in her amusement, looked more than contented.
Dress and fashion, two favourite themes with Miss Patty, were now introduced, and, after discoursing upon her love of the beautiful, as witnessed in the mantua-making and millinery arts, she deliberately left her seat, and going towards Belle (who wished to avoid her), began to examine the material of her dress, and requested her to rise and permit her to further inspect the mode in which it was made, declaring the description of so modern a master-piece of art would be a feast to the ears of some of her junior acquaintances.
Belle indignantly refused to comply, and shook off the hand of the old lady as if there had been contamination in her touch.
"Do stand up, Belle," said Kitty, in an undertone; "don't be so cross."
"Why don't you stand up yourself," said Belle, "and show off your own dress, for the benefit of her low associates?"
"She didn't ask me," replied Kitty, "but I will, with pleasure, if she will condescend to look at it. Miss Pace," continued she gaily, placing herself in front of the inquisitive Miss Patty, "do admire my gown at your leisure, and take a pattern of it, if you like, I should be proud of the honour."
For a wonder, Kitty's dress was pretty and well worthy of observation. Miss Patty made many comments, and her curiosity being satisfied, commenced retreating towards the place she had left, first glancing behind her to see if it was still vacant, and then moving towards it with a backward motion, consisting of a series of curtseys.
Fanny Bruce, who stood near, observing that she had made an exact calculation how many steps would be required to reach her seat, placed her hand on the back of the chair, as if to draw it away; and encouraged by a look and smile from Isabel, moved it, slightly, but still enough to endanger the old lady's safety.
On attempting to regain it, Miss Pace stumbled, and would have fallen, but Gertrude—who had been watching Fanny's proceedings—sprang forward in time to fling an arm around her, and place her safely in the chair, casting at the same time a reproachful look at Fanny, who, much confused, turned to avoid Gertrude's gaze, and in doing so accidentally trod on Mr. Graham's gouty toes, which drew from him an exclamation of pain.
"Fan," said Mr. Bruce, who had observed the latter accident only, "I wish you could learn politeness."
"Whom am I to learn it from?" asked Fanny, pertly,—"you?"
Ben looked provoked, but forbore to reply; while Miss Pace, who had recovered her composure, said—"Politeness! Ah, a lovely but rare virtue; perceptibly developed, however, in the manners of my friend Gertrude, which I hesitate not to affirm would well become a princess."
Belle curled her lip, and smiled disdainfully. "Lieutenant Osborne," said she, "don't you think Miss Devereux has beautiful manners?"
"Very fine," replied the lieutenant; "the style in which she receives company, on her reception-day, is elegance itself."
"Who are you speaking of?" inquired Kitty; "Mrs. Harry Noble?"
"Miss Devereux, we were remarking upon," said Belle; "but Mrs. Noble is also very stylish."
"I think she is," said Mr. Bruce; "do you hear, Fanny?—we have found a model for you,—you must imitate Mrs. Noble."
"I don't know anything about Mrs. Noble," retorted Fanny; "I'd rather imitate Miss Flint. Miss Gertrude," said she, "howshallI learn politeness?"
"Do you remember," asked Gertrude, speaking low, "what your music-master told you about learning toplaywith expression? I should give you the same rule for improvement in politeness."
Fanny blushed deeply. "What is that?" said Mr. Graham; "Fanny, what is Gertrude's rule for politeness."
"She only said," answered Fanny, "that it was the same my music-master gave me last winter."
"And what didhesay?" inquired her brother.
"I asked Mr. Hermann," said Fanny, "how I should learn to play with expression, and he said, 'You must cultivate yourheart, Miss Bruce, you must cultivate yourheart.'"
This new direction for the attainment of a great accomplishment was received with countenances that indicated as great a variety of sentiments as there was difference of character among Fanny's audience. Mr. Graham bit his lip, and walked away; forhispoliteness was founded on no such rule, and he knew that Gertrude'swas. Belle looked glorious disdain; Mr. Bruce and Kitty, puzzled and half amused; while Lieutenant Osborne proved himself not quite callous to a noble truth, by turning upon Gertrude a glance of admiration. Emily's face evidenced how fully she coincided in the opinion thus unintentionally made public, and Miss Patty expressed her approbation.
"Miss Gertrude's remark is a verity," said she. "The only politeness which is trustworthy is the spontaneous offering of the heart. Perhaps this goodly company of masters and misses would condescend to give ear to an old woman's tale of a rare instance of true politeness, and the fitting reward it met."
All expressed strong desire to hear Miss Patty's story, and she began: "On a winter's day, some years ago, an old woman, of many foibles and weaknesses, but with a keen eye and her share of worldly wisdom—Miss Patty Pace by name—started, by special invitation, for the house of one worshipful Squire Clinton, the honoured parent of Miss Isabella, the fair damsel yonder. Every tall tree in our good city was spangled with frost work, more glittering far than gems that sparkle in Golconda's mine, and the side-walk were a snare to the feet of the old and unwary.
"I lost my equilibrium, and fell. Two gallant gentlemen lifted and carried me to a neighboring apothecary's emporium, restored my scattered wits, and, revived me with a fragrant cordial. I went on my way with many a misgiving, however, and scarcely should I have reached my destination with bones unbroken, had it not been for a knight with a rosy countenance, who overtook me, placed my old arm within his own more strong and youthful one, and protected my steps to the end of my journey. No slight courage either, my young misses, did my noble escort need, to carry him through what he had undertaken. Paint to your imagination a youth, fresh and beautiful as a sunbeam, straight as an arrow—a perfect Apollo—linked to the little bent body of poor Miss Patty Pace. I will not spare myself, young ladies; for, had you seen me then, you would have considered me now vastly ameliorated in outer presentment. My double row of teeth were stowed away in my pocket, my frisette was pushed back from my head by my recent fall, and my gogs—the same my father wore before me—covered my face, and they alone attracted attention, and created some excitement. But he went on unmoved; and, in spite of many a captivating glance and smile from rows of beautiful young maidens whom we met, and many a sneer from youths of his own age, he sustained my feeble form with as much care as if I had been an empress, and accommodated his buoyant step to the slow movement which my infirmities compelled. Ah! what a spirit of conformity he manifested! my knight of the rosy countenance! Could you have seen him, Miss Catharina, or you, Miss Frances, your palpitating hearts would have taken flight for ever. He was a paragon, indeed.
"Whither his own way tended I cannot say, for he moved in conformity to mine, and left me not until I was safe at the abode of Mistress Clinton. I hardly think he coveted my old heart, but I sometimes believe it followed him, for truly he is still a frequent subject of my meditations."
"Ah! thenthatwas his reward!" exclaimed Kitty.
"Not so, Miss Kitty; guess again."
"I can think ofnothing so desirable, Miss Patty."
"Hisfortune in life, Miss Catharina—that was his reward; it may be that he cannot yet estimate the full amount of his recompense."
"How so?" exclaimed Fanny.
"I will briefly narrate the rest. Mistress Clinton encouraged me always to converse much in her presence. She knew my taste was disposed to humour me, and I was pleased to be indulged. I told my story, and enlarged upon the merits of my noble youth, and his wonderful spirit of conformity. The squire, a gentleman who estimates good breeding, was present, with his ears opened, when I recommended my knight, with all the eloquence I could command; he was amused, interested, pleased. He promised to see the boy, and did so; the noble features spake for themselves, and gained him a situation as clerk; from which he has since advanced in the ranks, until now he occupies the position of partner and confidential agent in a creditable and wealthy house. Miss Isabella, it would rejoice my heart to hear the latest tidings from Mr. William Sullivan."
"He is well, I believe," said Isabella, sulkily. "I know nothing to the contrary."
"Oh, Gertrude knows," said Fanny. "Gertrude knows all about Mr. Sullivan; she will tell you."
All turned, and looked at Gertrude, who, with face flushed, and eyes glistening with the interest she felt in Miss Patty's narrative, stood leaning upon Emily's chair. Miss Patty now appealed to her, much surprised, however, at her having any knowledge of her much admired young escort. Gertrude drew near, and answered all her questions without the least hesitation or embarrassment.
Gertrude gave Miss Pace an account of the curiosity which Willie and his friends had felt concerning the original author of his good fortune; and the old lady was so delighted at hearing the various conjectures about Mr. Clinton's unexpected summons, and of the matter being attributed to the agency of Santa Claus, that she loudly laughed. Miss Pace was just taxing Gertrude with messages of remembrance to be despatched in her next letter to Willie, when Mrs. Graham presented herself, and arrested the attention of the whole company by exclaiming, in her abrupt manner and loud tones—"What! are you all here? I thought you were bound for a walk in the woods. Kitty, what has become of your cherished scheme of climbing Sunset Hill?"
"I proposed it, aunt, an hour ago, but Belle insisted it was too warm.Ithink the weather is just right for a walk."
"It will soon be growing cool," said Mrs. Graham, "and I think you had better start; it is some distance, if you go round through the woods."
"Who knows the way?" asked Kitty.
No one responded to the question, and all professed ignorance; much to the astonishment of Gertrude, who believed that every part of the woody ground and hill beyond were familiar to Mr. Bruce. She did not stay, however, to hear any further discussion of their plans; for Emily was beginning to suffer from headache and weariness, and Gertrude insisted that she should seek the quiet of her own room, and she went with her. She was just closing the chamber door, when Fanny called from the staircase, "Miss Gertrude ain't you going for a walk with us?"
"No," replied Gertrude; "not to-day."
"Then I won't go," said Fanny, "if you don't. Why don't you go, Miss Gertrude?"
"I shall walk with Miss Emily, by-and-bye, if she is well enough; you can accompany us, if you like, but you would enjoy going to Sunset Hill much more."
Meantime a whispered consultation took place below, in which someone suggested that Gertrude was well acquainted with the path which the party wished to follow through the woods. Belle opposed her being invited to join them; Kitty hesitated between her liking for Gertrude and her fears regarding Mr. Bruce's allegiance; Lieutenant Osborne forbore to urge what Belle disapproved; and Mr. Bruce remained silent, trusting to the final necessity of her being invited to act as guide, in which capacity he had purposely concealed his own ability to serve. This necessity was so obvious, that, as he had foreseen, Kitty was at last despatched to find Gertrude and make known their request.
Gertrude would have declined, and made her attendance upon Emily an excuse for non-compliance; but Emily, believing that the exercise would be beneficial to Gertrude, interfered, and begged her to agree to Kitty's proposal; and, on the latter declaring that the expedition must otherwise be given up, she consented to join it. To change her slippers for thick walking boots occupied a few minutes only; a few more were spent in a vain search for her flat hat, which was missing from the closet where it usually hung.
"What are you looking for?" said Emily, hearing Gertrude twice open the door of the closet.
"My hat! but I don't see it. I believe I shall have to borrow your sun-bonnet again," and she took up a white sun-bonnet, the same she had worn in the morning, and which now lay on the bed.
"Certainly, my dear," said Emily.
"I shall begin to think it mine before long," said Gertrude, gaily, as she ran off, "I wear it so much more than you do." Emily now called from the staircase, "Gertrude, my child, have you thick shoes? It is always very wet in the meadow beyond Thornton place." Gertrude assured her that she had; but fearing that the others were less carefully equipped, inquired of Mrs. Graham whether Belle and Kitty were insured against the dampness they might encounter.
Mrs. Graham declared they were not. "I have some very light india-rubbers," said Gertrude; "I will take them with me, and Fanny and I shall be in time to warn them before they come to the place."
It was an easy matter to overtake Belle and the lieutenant, for they walked very slowly, and seemed not unwilling to be left in the rear. The reverse was the case with Mr. Bruce and Kitty, who appeared purposely to keep in advance; Kitty hastening her steps from her reluctance to allow an agreeabletête-à-têteto be interfered with, and Ben from a desire to give Gertrude a fair opportunity to observe his devotion to Kitty, which increased the momentshecame in sight.
They had now passed the Thornton farm, and only one field separated them from the meadow, which was in the centre a complete quagmire, and only passable to the thickly-shod, by keeping close to the wall, and thus skirting the field. Gertrude and Fanny were some distance behind, and nearly out of breath with a pursuit in which the others had gained so great advantage. As they were passing the farm-house, Mrs. Thornton came to the door and addressed Gertrude, who, foreseeing that she would be detained some minutes, bade Fanny run on, acquaint her brother and Kitty with the nature of the soil in advance, and begged them to wait at the bars until the rest of the party came up. Fanny was too late, notwithstanding the haste she made; they were half across the meadow when she reached the bars, proceeding in perfect safety, for Mr. Bruce was conducting Kitty by the only practicable path, close under the wall, proving to Gertrude, who in a few moments joined Fanny, that he was no stranger to the place. When they were half-way across, they encountered some obstacle, for Kitty stood poised on one foot and clinging to the wall, while Mr. Bruce placed a few stepping-stones across the path. He then helped her over, and they went on, their figures soon disappearing in the grove beyond.
Isabel and the lieutenant were so long making their appearance that Fanny became very impatient, and urged Gertrude to leave them to their fate. They at last turned the corner near the farm-house, and came on, Belle maintaining her leisurely pace. "Are you lame, Miss Clinton?" called out Fanny, so soon as they were within hearing.
"Lame!" said Belle; "what do you mean?"
"Why, you walk so slow," said Fanny; "I thought something must be the matter with your feet."
Belle disdained any reply, and, tossing her head, entered the damp meadow, in close conversation with her devoted young officer, not deigning even to look at Gertrude, who, without appearing to notice her haughtiness, took Fanny's hand, and, turning away from the direct path, to make the circuit of the field, said to Belle, with calm courtesy of manner, "This way, if you please, Miss Clinton; we have been waiting to guide you through this wet meadow."
"Is it wet?" asked Belle, in alarm, glancing down at her delicate slipper. She then added, in a provoked tone, "I should have thought you would have known better than to bring us this way. I shan't go across."
"Then you can go back," said the pert Fanny; "nobody cares."
"It was not my proposition," remarked Gertrude, mildly, though with a heightened colour; "but I think I can help you through the difficulty. Mrs. Graham was afraid you had worn thin shoes, and I brought you a pair of india-rubbers."
Belle took them, and, without the grace to express any thanks, said, as she unfolded the paper in which they were wrapped, "Whose are they?"
"Mine," replied Gertrude.
"I don't believe I can keep them on," muttered Belle; "they'll be immense, I suppose."
"Allow me," said the lieutenant; and, taking one of the shoes, he stooped to place it on her foot, but found it difficult to do so, as it was too small. Belle, perceiving it, bent down to perform, the office for herself, and treated Gertrude's property with such angry violence that she snapped the strap which passed across the instep, and even then only succeeded in partially forcing her foot into the shoe.
Meantime, as she bent forward, Fanny's attention was attracted by a very tasteful broad-brimmed hat, which she wore jauntily on one side of her head, and which Fanny recognised as Gertrude's. It was a somewhat fanciful article of dress, that Gertrude would hardly have thought of purchasing for herself, but which Mr. Graham had brought home to her the previous summer to replace a common garden hat which he had accidentally crushed. As the style of it was simple and in good taste, she had been in the habit of wearing it often in her country walks, and kept it hung in the closet, where it had been found and appropriated by Belle. It had been seen by Fanny in Gertrude's room at Mrs. Warren's; she had also been permitted to wear it on one occasion, when she took part in a charade. Having heard Gertrude say it was missing, she was astonished to see it adorning Belle; and, as she stood behind her, made signs to Gertrude, and performed a series of pantomimic gestures expressive of an intention to snatch it from Miss Clinton's head, and place it on that of its rightful owner.
Gertrude's gravity nearly gave way. She shook her head at Fanny, held up her finger, made signs to her to forbear, and, with a face whose laughter was only concealed by the deep white bonnet which she wore, took her hand, and hastened with her along the path, leaving Belle and her beau to follow.
"Fanny," said she, "you must not make me laugh so; if Miss Clinton had seen us she would have been very much hurt."
"She has no business to wear your hat," said Fanny, "and she shan't."
"Yes, she shall," replied Gertrude; "she looks beautiful in it, I am delighted to have her wear it, and you must not intimate to her that it is mine."
The walk through the woods was delightful, and Gertrude and her young companion, in the quiet enjoyment of it, had almost forgotten that they were members of a gay party, when they suddenly came in sight of Kitty and Mr. Bruce. They were sitting at the foot of an old oak, Kitty earnestly engaged in the manufacture of an oak-wreath, which she was just fitting to her attendant's hat; while he himself, when Gertrude first caught sight of him, was leaning against the tree in a careless attitude. But as soon as he perceived their approach, he bent forward, inspected Kitty's work, and when they came within hearing, was uttering a profusion of thanks and compliments, which he took care should reach Gertrude's ears, and Kitty received with manifest pleasure—a pleasure which was still further enhanced by her perceiving that Gertrude had apparently no power to withdraw his attention from her. Poor, simple Kitty! she believed him honest while he bought her heart with counterfeits. "Miss Gertrude," said Fanny, "I wish we could go into some pine woods, so that I could get some cones to make baskets and frames of."
"There are plenty of pines in that direction," said Gertrude, pointing with her finger.
"Why can't we go and look for cones?" asked Fanny; "we could get back by the time Belle Clinton reaches this place."
Gertrude and Fanny started off, having first tied their bonnets to the branch of a tree. They were gone some time, for Fanny found plenty of cones, but was at a loss how to carry them home. "I have thought," said she, at last; "I will run back and borrow brother Ben's handkerchief; or, if he won't let me have it, I'll take my own bonnet and fill it full." Gertrude promised to await her return, and she ran off. When she came near the spot where she had left Kitty and Mr. Bruce, she heard several voices and loud laughter. Belle and the lieutenant had arrived, and they were having great sport about something. Belle was standing with the white cape bonnet in her hand. She had bent it completely out of shape, so as to give it the appearance of an old woman's cap, had adorned the front with white-weed and dandelions, and finally pinned on a handkerchief to serve as a veil. She held it up on the end of the lieutenant's cane, and was endeavouring to obtain a bid for Miss Flint's bridal bonnet.
Fanny listened a moment with an indignant countenance, then advanced with a bound, as if just running from the woods. Kitty caught her frock as she passed, and exclaimed, "Why, Fanny, are you here? Where's Gertrude?"
"Oh, she's in the pine woods!" replied Fanny, "and I'm going back; she only sent me to get her hat, the sun's so warm where we are."
"Ah, yes!" said Belle, "her Paris hat. Please give it to her, with our compliments."
"No, that isn't hers," said Fanny; "thatis Miss Emily's.Thisis hers;" and she laid her hand upon the straw head-dress which the gentlemen had but a moment before been assuring Belle was vastly becoming, and, without ceremony, snatched it from her head.
Belle's eyes flashed angrily. "What do you mean?" said she; "you saucy little creature! Give me that hat!" and she stretched out her hand to take it.
"I shan't do any such thing!" said Fanny; "it's Gertrude's hat. She looked for it this afternoon, but concluded it was either lost or stolen, and so borrowed Miss Emily's cape-bonnet; but she'll be very glad to find it, and I'll carry it to her. I rather think," said she, looking over her shoulder, as she ran off, "I rather think Miss Emily would be willing you should wear her bonnet home, if you'll be careful, and not bend it."
A few moments of anger to Belle, laughter from Kitty and Mr. Bruce, and concealed amusement on Lieutenant Osborne's part, and Gertrude came hastily from the woods, with the hat in her hand, Fanny following her; and, taking advantage of Belle's position, with her back towards her, resumed her pantomimic threats and insinuations. "Miss Clinton," said Gertrude, as she replaced the hat in her lap, "I am afraid Fanny has been very rude in my name. I did not send her for either hat or bonnet, and shall be pleased to have you wear this as often as you like."
"I don't want it," said Belle, scornfully; "I'd no idea it belonged to you."
"Certainly not; I am aware of it," said Gertrude. "But I trust that will not prevent you making use of it for to-day, at least." Without urging the matter further, she proposed that they should hasten on to the top of the hill, which they could not otherwise reach before sunset; and set the example by moving forward in that direction, Fanny accompanying her, and busying herself as she went by stripping the decorations from Emily's despised bonnet; Belle tying an embroidered handkerchief under her chin; and Mr. Bruce swinging on his arm the otherwise neglected hat.
Belle did not recover her temper during the evening; the rest found their excursion agreeable, and it was nearly dark when they reached the Thornton farm on their return. Here Gertrude left them, telling Fanny that she had promised to stop and see Jenny Thornton, one of her Sunday-school class, who was in a fever, and refusing to let her remain, as her mother might not wish her to enter the house, where several of the family were sick. About an hour after, as Gertrude was walking home in some haste, she was joined near Mr. Graham's house by Mr. Bruce, who, with her hat still hanging on his arm, seemed to have been awaiting her return. She started on his abruptly joining her, for it was so dark that she did not at once recognise him, and supposed it might be a stranger.
"Miss Gertrude," said he, "I hope I don't alarm you."
"Oh no," said she, reassured by the sound of his voice; "I did not know who it was."
He offered his arm, and she took it; for his recent devotion to Kitty had served in some degree to relieve her of any fear she had felt lest his attentions carried meaning with them; and concluding that he liked to play beau-general, she had no objection to his escorting her home.
"We had a very pleasant walk this evening," said he; "at least, I had. Miss Kitty is a very entertaining companion."
"I think she is," replied Gertrude; "I like her frank, lively manners much."
"I am afraid you found Fanny rather poor company. I should have joined you occasionally, but I could hardly find an opportunity to quit Miss Kitty, we were so much interested in what we were saying."
"Fanny and I are accustomed to each other, and very happy together," said Gertrude.
"Do you know we have planned a delightful drive for to-morrow?"
"No; I was not aware of it."
"I suppose Miss Kay expects I shall ask her to go with me; but supposing, Miss Gertrude, I should give you the preference, and ask you, what should you say?"
"That I was much obliged to you, but had an engagement to take a drive with Miss Emily," replied Gertrude, promptly.
"Indeed!" said he, in a suppressed and provoked tone; "I thought you would like it; but Miss Kitty, I doubt not will accept. I will go in and ask her. Here is your hat."
"Thank you," said Gertrude, and would have taken it; but Ben still held it by one string, and said——
"Then you won't go, Miss Gertrude?"
"My engagement with Miss Emily cannot be postponed on any account," answered Gertrude, thankful that she had so excellent a reason for declining.
"Nonsense!" said Mr. Bruce; "you could go with me if you chose; and if you don't, I shall certainly invite Miss Kitty."
The weight he seemed to attach to this threat astonished Gertrude. "Can it be possible," thought she, "that he expects thus to pique and annoy me?" and she replied by saying, "I shall be happy if my declining prove the means of Kitty's enjoying a pleasant drive; she is fond of variety, and has few opportunities here to indulge her taste."
They now entered the house. Mr. Bruce sought Kitty in the recess of the window, and Gertrude, not finding Emily present, stayed but a short time in the room—long enough, however, to observe Mr. Bruce's exaggerated devotion to Kitty, which was marked by others beside himself. Kitty promised to accompany him the next day, and did so. Mrs. Graham, Mrs. Bruce, Belle, and the lieutenant, went also in another vehicle, and Emily and Gertrude took a different direction, and driving white Charlie in the old-fashioned buggy, rejoiced in their quiet independence.
Days and weeks passed on, and no marked event took place in Mr. Graham's household. The weather became intensely warm, and no more walks and drives were planned. The lieutenant left the city, and Isabel, who could neither endure with patience excessive heat nor want of society, grew more irritable than ever.
To Kitty, however, these summer days were fraught with interest. Mr. Bruce visited constantly at the house, and had great influence upon her outward demeanour and her inward happiness, which fluctuated as his attentions were freely bestowed or altogether suspended. No wonder the poor girl was puzzled to understand one whose conduct was certainly inexplicable to any but those initiated into his motives. Believing, as he did, that Gertrude would in time show a disposition to win him back, he was anxious only to carry his addresses to Kitty to such a point as would excite a serious alarm in the mind of the poorprotégéeof the Grahams, who dared to slight his proffered advances. Acting then as he did almost wholly with reference to Gertrude, it was only in her presence, or under such circumstances that he was sure it would reach her ears, that he manifested a marked interest in Kitty; and his behaviour was, therefore, in the highest degree, unequal, leading the warm-hearted Kitty to believe one moment that he felt for her almost the tenderness of a lover, and the next to suffer under the apprehension of having unconsciously wounded or offended him. Unfortunately, too, Mrs. Graham took every opportunity to congratulate her upon her conquest, thereby increasing the simple girl's confidence in the sincerity of Mr. Bruce's admiration.
Gertrude, whose eyes were soon opened to the existing state of things, was filled with apprehension on account of Kitty, for whose peace and welfare she felt great concern. The suspicions to which Mr. Bruce's conduct gave rise were soon strengthened into convictions; for, on several occasions, after he had offered Kitty proofs of devotion, he tested their effect upon Gertrude by some attention to herself; intimating that she had it in her power to rob Kitty of all claim upon his favour.
Gertrude availed herself of every opportunity to acquaint him with the truth, that he could not render himself more odious in her eyes than by the use of such mean attempts to mortify her; but attributing her warmth to jealousy, which he desired to excite, the selfish young man persevered in his course of wickedness. As he only proffered his attentions, and made no offer of his heart and hand, Kitty, having forgotten that she had a few weeks back looked upon Gertrude as a rival, now chose her for her bosom friend; and the transparency of her character was such that she betrayed her secret to Gertrude. Though no one but Gertrude appeared to observe it, Kitty was wonderfully changed;—the gay, laughing, careless Kitty had now her fits of musing—her sunny face was subject to clouds, that flitted across it, and robbed it of all its brightness. If she found Gertrude sitting alone in her room she would approach, throw her arm around her, and talk on her favourite topic. She would relate the complimentary speeches and polite attentions of Mr. Bruce, talk about him for an hour, and question Gertrude as to her opinion of his merits. She would ask if Gertrude really supposed he meant all he said, and add, that of course she didn't believe he did—it was all nonsense. And if Gertrude avowed the same opinion, and declared it was best not to trust his flatteries, poor Kitty's face would fail, and she would give her reasons forsometimesthinking he was sincere—he had such atruthful, earnestway of speaking.
At last Mr. Bruce tried Gertrude's firmness by offering to her acceptance a rich ring. Not a little surprised at his presumption, she declined it without ceremony, and the next day saw it on the finger of Kitty, who was eager to give an account of its presentation.
"And did youacceptit?" asked Gertrude, with such a look of astonishment, that Kitty observed it, and evaded an acknowledgment of having done so, by saying, with a blushing countenance, that she agreed to wear it a little while.
"I wouldn't," said Gertrude.
"Why not?"
"Because, in the first place, I do not think it is in good taste to receive such rich gifts from gentlemen; and then, again, if strangers notice it, you may be subjected to unpleasant, significant remarks."
"What would you do with it?" asked Kitty.
"I should give it back."
Kitty looked very undecided; but concluded to offer it to Mr. Bruce, and tell him what Gertrude said. She did so, and that gentleman, little appreciating Gertrude's motives, and believing her only desirous of making difficulty between him and Kitty, jumped at the conclusion that her heart was won at last. He was disappointed, therefore, when, on his next meeting with her, she treated him as she had invariably done of late, with cool civility; indeed, it seemed to him that she was more insensible than ever to his attractions, and hastily quitted the house, much to the distress of Kitty.
"Shall I," thought he, "marry this poor girl? Shall I, who have a handsome fortune, and additional expectations to make a brilliant alliance, condescend to share my wealth with this adopted child of the Grahams? If she were one atom less charming, I would disappoint her, after all! I wonder how she'd feel if I should marry Kitty! I dare say that she would come to my wedding, bend her slender neck as gracefully as ever, and say, 'Good evening, Mr. Bruce,' as calmly as she does now, every time I go to the house! But, asMrs. Bruce, I should be proud of that manner, certainly. I wonder how I ever got in love with her; I'm sure I don't know. She isn't handsome; mother thinks she isn't, and so does Belle Clinton. But Lieutenant Osborne noticed her the minute she came into the room; and Fan raves about her beauty. I don't know what I think myself; I believe she's bewitched me, so that I'm not capable of judging; but, if it isn't beauty, it's something more than mere good looks."
About this time, Mrs. Graham and Mrs. Bruce, with their families, received cards for alevéeat the house of an acquaintance five miles distant. Mrs. Bruce, who had a close carriage, invited both the cousins to go; and, as Mr. Graham's carriage, when closed, would only accommodate himself and lady, the proposal was acceded to.
The prospect of a gay assembly revived Isabel's drooping spirits. Her rich evening dresses were brought out, and she stood before her mirror, and tied on first one wreath, and then another, and looked so beautiful in each that it was difficult to choose. Kitty, who stood by, went to consult Gertrude.
"Gertrude," said Kitty, "what shall I wear this evening? I've been trying to get Belle to tell me, but she never will hear what I ask her, when she's thinking about her own dress! She's dreadfully selfish."
"Who advisesher?" asked Gertrude.
"Oh, nobody; she always decides for herself; but then she has so much taste, and I haven't the least in the world! So do tell me, Gertrude, what had I better wear to-night?"
"I'm the last person you should ask, Kitty; I never went to a fashionable party in my life."
"That doesn't make any difference. I'm sure if you did go, you'd look better than any of us; and I'm not afraid to trust to your opinion, for I never in my life saw you wear anything that didn't look genteel—even your gingham morning-gown has a sort of stylish air."
"Stop, stop, Kitty; you are going too far; you must keep within bounds if you want me to believe you."
"Well then," said Kitty, "to say nothing of yourself (for you're superior to flattery, Gertrude—somebodytold me so)—who furnishes Miss Emily's wardrobe? Who selects her dresses?"
"I have done so lately, but——"
"I thought so!—I thought so!" interrupted Kitty. "I knew poor Miss Emily was indebted to you for always looking so nice and so beautiful."
"No, indeed, Kitty, you are mistaken; I have never seen Emily better dressed than she was the first time I met her; and her beauty is not borrowed from art—it is all her own."
"Oh, I know she is lovely, and everybody admires her; but no one can suppose she would take pains to wear such pretty things, and put them on so gracefully, just to please herself."
"It is not done merely to please herself; it was to please her father that Emily first made the exertion to dress with taste as well as neatness. I have heard that, for some time after she lost her eyesight, she was disposed to be very careless; but, having accidentally discovered that it was an additional cause of sorrow to him, she roused herself at once, and, with Mrs. Ellis's assistance, contrived always afterwards to please him in that particular. But you observe, Kitty, she never wears anything showy or conspicuous."
"No, indeed, that is what I like; but, Gertrude, hasn't she always been blind?"
"No; until she was sixteen she had beautiful eyes, and could see as well as you can."
"What happened to her? How did she lose them?"
"I don't know."
"Didn't you ever ask?"
"No."
"Why not?—how queer!"
"I heard that she didn't like to speak of it."
"But she would have told you; she worships you."
"If she had wished me to know, she would have told without my asking."
Kitty stared at Gertrude, wondering much at such unusual delicacy and consideration, and instinctively admiring a forbearance of which she was conscious she should herself have been incapable.
"But your dress!" said Gertrude, smiling at Kitty's abstraction.
"Oh, yes! I had almost forgotten what I came here for," said Kitty. "What shall it be, then—thick or thin; pink, blue, or white?"
"What has Isabel decided upon?"
"Blue—a rich blue silk; that is her favourite colour, always; but it doesn't become me."
"No, I should think not," said Gertrude; "but come, Kitty, we will go to your room and see the dresses, and I will give my opinion."
Kitty's wardrobe having been inspected, a delicate white crape was fixed upon. And now her head-dresses did not prove satisfactory. "I cannot wear any of them," said Kitty; "they look so mean by the side of Isabel's; but oh!" exclaimed she, glancing at a box which lay on the dressing-table, "these are just what I should like! Oh, Isabel, where did you get these beautiful carnations?" and she took up some flowers which were, indeed, a rare imitation of nature, and, displaying them to Gertrude, added that they were just what she wanted.
"Oh, Kitty," said Isabel, angrily, "don't touch my flowers! you will spoil them!" and snatching them from her, she replaced them in the box, and deposited them in the bureau, and locked them up—an action which Gertrude witnessed with astonishment, mingled with indignation.
"Kitty," said she, "I will arrange a wreath of natural flowers for you, if you wish."
"Will you, Gertrude?" said the disappointed and provoked Kitty. "Oh that will be delightful. I should like it of all things! And, Isabel, you cross old miser, you can keep all your wreaths to yourself!"
Gertrude prepared a head-dress for Kitty; and tastefully mingled the choicest productions of the garden, that, when Isabel saw her cousin look so beautiful with it, she felt a sharp pang of jealousy of Kitty and dislike to Gertrude.
Emily was not well this evening. It was often the case, lately, that headache, weariness, or a nervous shrinking from noise and excitement sent her to her own room or to her couch at an early hour. After Mrs. Graham and her nieces had gone downstairs to await Mr. Graham's pleasure, and Mrs. Bruce's arrival, Gertrude returned to Emily, and found her suffering more than usual from her head. She was easily induced to seek the only infallible cure—sleep; and Gertrude, seating herself on the bedside, as she was frequently in the habit of doing, bathed her temples until she fell into a quiet slumber. The noise of Mrs. Bruce's carriage disturbed her a little; but she was soon in so sound a sleep that, when Mr. and Mrs. Graham departed, the loud voice of the latter did not startle her in the least. Gertrude sat some time longer without changing her position, then, quietly rising, and arranging everything for the night, according to Emily's wishes, she closed the door, sought a book in her own room, and, entering the parlour, seated herself at a table to enjoy the rare opportunity for stillness and repose. But she soon left her seat, and going towards the glass doors and leaning her head upon her hands, was absorbed in meditation.
She had not long sat thus when she heard a footstep in the room, and, turning, saw Mr. Bruce beside her. She started, and exclaimed, "Mr. Bruce! is it possible? I thought you had gone to the wedding."
"No, there were greater attractions for me at home. Could you believe, Miss Gertrude, I should find any pleasure in a party which did not include yourself?"
"I certainly should not have the vanity to suppose the reverse?" replied Gertrude.
"I wish you had a little more vanity, Miss Gertrude. Perhaps then you would believe what I say."
"I am glad you have the candour to acknowledge, Mr. Bruce, that, without that requisite, one would find it impossible to put faith in your fair speeches."
"I acknowledge no such thing. I only say to you what any other girl but yourself would be willing enough to believe; but how shall I convince you that I am serious, and wish to be so understood?"
"By addressing me with simple truthfulness, and sparing me those words and attentions which I wish to convince you are unacceptable to me and unworthy of yourself."
"But I have a meaning, Gertrude, adeepmeaning. I have been trying long to find an opportunity to tell you of my resolve, and youmustlisten to me now;" for he saw her change colour and look anxious and uneasy. "You must give me an answer at once, and one that will, I trust, be favourable to my wishes. You like plain speaking; and I will be plain enough, now that my mind is made up. My relatives and friends may talk and wonder as much as they please at my choosing a wife who has neither money nor family to boast of; but I will defy them all, and offer without hesitation to share my prospects with you. What is money good for, if it does not make a man independent to do as he pleases? And, as to the world, I don't see but that you can hold your head as high as anybody, Gertrude; so, if you've no objection to make, we'll play at cross purposes no longer;" and he endeavoured to take her hand.
But Gertrude drew back; the colour flushed her cheeks, and her eyes glistened as she fixed them upon his face, with an expression of astonishment and pride. The penetrating look of those dark eyes spoke volumes, and Mr. Bruce replied to their inquiring gaze in these words: "I hope you are not displeased at my frankness."
"With your frankness," said Gertrude, calmly; "no, that is a thing that never displeases me. But what I have unconsciously done to inspire you with so much confidence, that, while you defend yourself for defying the wishes of your friends, you hardly give me a voice in the matter?"
"Nothing," said Bruce; "but I thought you had laboured under the impression that I was disposed to trifle with your affections, and had therefore kept aloof and maintained a distance towards me which you would not have done had you known I was in earnest; but, believe me, I only admired you the more for behaving with so much dignity, and if I have presumed upon your favour, you must forgive me."
The expression of wounded pride vanished from Gertrude's face. "He knows no better," thought she; "I should pity his vanity and ignorance, and sympathize in his disappointment; and, in disclaiming with a positiveness which left no room for self-deception, any interest in Mr. Bruce beyond that of an old acquaintance and well-wisher, she nevertheless softened her refusal by the choice of the mildest language. She felt gratitude and consideration were due to the man who, however little she might esteemhim, had paidherthe highest honour;" and, though her regret in the matter was tempered by the thought of Kitty, and the strangeness of Mr. Bruce's conduct towards her, now rendered doubly inexplicable, she did not permit that reflection to prevent her from maintaining the demeanour of a perfect lady, who, in giving pain to another, laments the necessity of so doing. But she almost felt as if her thoughtfulness for his feelings had been thrown away, when she perceived the spirit in which he received her refusal.
"Gertrude," said he, "you are either trifling with me or yourself. If you are still disposed to coquet with me, I shall not humble myself to urge you further; but if, on the other hand, you are so far forgetful of your own interests as deliberately to refuse such a fortune as mine, I think it's a pity you haven't got some friend to advise you. Such a chance doesn't occur every day, especially to poor school-mistresses; and if you are so foolish as to overlook it, you'll never have another."
Gertrude'sold temperrose at this insulting language; but her feelings had been too long under strict regulation to yield, and she replied in a tone which, though slightly agitated, was far from being angry, "Allowing I could so far forgetmyself, Mr. Bruce, I would not doyousuch an injustice as to marry you for your fortune. I do not despise wealth, for I know the blessing it may often be; but my affections cannot be bought with gold;" and as she spoke she moved towards the door.
"Stay!" said Mr. Bruce, catching her hand; "listen to me one moment; let me ask you one question. Are you jealous of my late attentions to another?"
"No," answered Gertrude; "but I confess I have not understood your motives."
"Did you think," asked he, "that I care for silly Kitty? Did you believe that I had any other desire than to show you that my devotion was acceptable elsewhere? No, I never had the least particle of regard for her; my heart has been yours all the time, and I only danced attendance uponher, in hopes to win a glance fromyou—ananxiousglance, if might be. Oh, I have wished that you would show only one quarter of the pleasure that she did in my society; would blush and smile as she did; would look sad when I was dull, and laugh when I was merry; so that I might flatter myself that your heart was won. But as tolovingher,—pooh! Mrs. Graham's poodle-dog might as well try to rival you as that soft——"
"Stop! stop!" exclaimed Gertrude; "formysake, if not for yourown! Oh, how——" She could say no more; but, sinking into a seat, burst into tears, and hiding her face in her hands, as had been her habit in childhood, wept without restraint.
Mr. Bruce stood by in utter amazement; at last he approached her, and asked, in a low voice, "What is the matter? what have I done?"
It was some minutes before she could reply; then, lifting her head, and tossing the hair from her forehead, she displayed features expressive only of the deepest grief, and said, in broken accents, "What have you done? Oh, how can you ask? She is gentle, and amiable, and affectionate. She loves everybody, and trusts everybody. You havedeceivedher, andIwas the cause of it. Oh, how, how could you do it!"
Ben exclaimed, "She will get over it." "Get overwhat!" said Gertrude; "her love for you? Perhaps so; I know not how deep it is. But, think of her happy, trusting nature, and how it has been betrayed! Think how she believed your flattering words, and how hollow they were, all the while! Think how her confidence has been abused! how that fatherless and motherless girl, who had a claim to the sympathy of all the world, has been taught a lesson of distrust."
"I didn't think you would take it so," said Ben.
"How else could I view it?" asked Gertrude; "could you expect that such a course would win my respect?"
"You take it very seriously, Gertrude; such flirtations are common."
"I am sorry to hear it," said Gertrude. "To my mind, unversed in the ways of society, it is a dreadful thing to trifle thus with a human heart. Whether Kitty loves you is not for me to say; but what opinion, alas! will she have of your sincerity?"
"I think you're rather hard, Miss Gertrude, when it was my love for you that prompted my conduct."
"Perhaps I am," said Gertrude. "It is not my place to censure; I speak only from the impulse of my heart. One orphan girl's warm defence of another is but natural. Perhaps she views the thing lightly, and does notneedan advocate; but, oh, Mr. Bruce, do not think so meanly of my sex as to believe that one woman's heart can be won to love and reverence by the author of another's betrayal! She were less than woman who could be so false to her sense of right and honour."
"Betrayal!—Nonsense! you are very high-flown."
"So much so, Mr. Bruce, that half-an-hour ago I could have wept that you should have bestowed your affection where it met with no requital; and if now I wept for the sake of her whose ears have listened to false professions, and whose peace has, to say the least, beenthreatenedon my account, you should attribute it to the fact that my sympathies have not been exhausted by contact with the world."
A short silence ensued. Ben went a step or two towards the door, then stopped, came back, and said, "After all, Gertrude Flint, I believe the time will come when your notions will grow less romantic, and you will look back to this night and wish you had acted differently." He immediately left the room, and Gertrude heard him shut the hall-door with a bang.
A moment after the silence that ensued was disturbed by a slight sound which seemed to proceed from the recess in the window. Gertrude started, and, as she went towards the spot, heard a smothered sob. She lifted a curtain, and there, upon the window-seat, her head buried in the cushions, and her little slender form distorted into a strange attitude, sat, or rather crouched, poor Kitty Ray.
"Kitty?" cried Gertrude. At the sound of her voice Kitty sprung suddenly from her recumbent posture, threw herself into Gertrude's arms, laid her head upon her shoulder, and though she did not,couldnot weep, shook with an agitation uncontrollable. Her hand which grasped Gertrude's was cold; her eyes fixed; and at intervals the same hysterical sound which had at first betrayed her in her hiding-place alarmed her young protector, to whom she clung. Gertrude supported her to a seat, and then, folding the slight form to her bosom, chafed the cold hands, and again and again kissing the rigid lips, succeeded in restoring her to something like composure. For an hour she lay thus, receiving Gertrude's caresses with evident pleasure, and now and then returning them convulsively, but speaking no word and making no noise. Gertrude, with the truest delicacy, refrained from asking questions, or recurring to a conversation, the whole of which had been thus overheard and comprehended; but, patiently waiting until Kitty grew more calm, prepared for her a soothing draught; and then, finding her completely prostrated, both in mind and body, passed her arm around her waist, guided her upstairs, and took her into her own room, where, if she proved wakeful, she would be spared the scrutiny of Isabel. Still clinging to Gertrude, the poor girl, to whose relief tears came at last, sobbed herself to sleep. Gertrude, though nearly the same age as Kitty, had seen too much trouble to enjoy in times of disquiet the privilege of sinking easily to repose. She felt under the necessity, too, of remaining awake until Isabel's return, that she might inform her what had become of Kitty, whom she would be sure to miss from the room which they both occupied. It was past midnight when Mrs. Graham and her niece returned home, and Gertrude went immediately to inform the latter that her cousin was asleep in her room. The noise of the carriage, however, had awakened the sleeper, and when Gertrude returned she was rubbing her eyes, and trying to collect her thoughts. Suddenly the recollection of the scene of the evening flashed upon her, and with a deep sigh she exclaimed, "Oh, Gertrude, I have been dreaming of Mr. Bruce! Should you have thought he would have treated me so?"
"No, I should not," said Gertrude; "but I wouldn't dream about him, Kitty, nor think of him any more; we will both go to sleep and forget him."
"It is different with you," said Kitty, with simplicity. "He loves you, and you do not care for him; but I—I——" Here her feelings overpowered her, and she buried her face in her pillow.
Gertrude approached, laid her hand kindly upon the head of the poor girl, and finished the sentence for her.
"You have such a large heart, Kitty, that he found some place there, perhaps; but it is too good a heart to be shared by the mean and base. You must think no more of him—he is not worthy of your regard."
"I can't help it," said Kitty; "I am silly, just as he said."
"No, you are not," said Gertrude, encouragingly; "and you must prove it to him."
"How?"
"Let him see that, with all her softness, Kitty Ray is brave; that she believes not his flattery, and values his professions at just what they are worth."
"Will you help me, Gertrude? You are my best friend; you took my part, and told him how wicked he had been to me. May I come to you for comfort when I can't make believe happy any longer to him, and my aunt, and Isabel?"
Gertrude's fervent embrace assured her.
"You will be as bright and as happy as ever in a few weeks," said she; "you will soon cease to care for a person whom you no longer respect."
Kitty disclaimed the possibility of ever being happy again; but Gertrude was more hopeful. She saw that Kitty's outburst of sobs and tears was like an impetuous grief, but that the deepest recesses of her nature were safe. She felt a deep compassion for her, and many fears lest she would want sufficient strength of mind to behave with dignity and womanly pride in her future intercourse with Mr. Bruce.
Fortunately, the trial was spared her by Mr. Bruce's absenting himself from the house, and in a few days leaving home for the remainder of the summer; and, as this circumstance involved his own and Mrs. Graham's family in wonder as to the cause of his sudden departure, Kitty's trials were in the perpetual questionings from her aunt and cousin as to her share in this occurrence. Had she quarrelled with him?—and why? Kitty denied that she had; but she was not believed.
Mrs. Graham and Isabel were aware that Kitty's refusing at the last moment to attend the weddinglevéewas owing to her having learned, just before the carriage drove to the door, that Mr. Bruce was not to be one of the party; and, as they got her to confess that he had passed a part of the evening at the house, they came to the conclusion that some misunderstanding had arisen between the lovers.
Isabel was too well acquainted with Kitty's sentiments to believe she had voluntarily relinquished an admirer who had evidently been highly prized; and she also saw that the sensitive girl winced under every allusion to the deserter. Where was her affection? For she made Mr. Bruce and his disappearance her constant topic; and, on the slightest difference between herself and Kitty, she distressed the latter by cutting sarcasm relative to her late love-affair. Kitty would then seek refuge with Gertrude, and claim her sympathy; and she not only found in her a friendly listener to her woes, but invariably acquired in her society greater strength and cheerfulness than she could elsewhere rally to her aid.
Many a time, when Isabel had been tantalising Kitty beyond what her patience could endure, a little figure would present itself at the door of Miss Graham's room, and with the sweetest of voices say, "I hear you, Kitty; come in, my dear; we shall be glad of your pleasant company;" and seated by the side of Gertrude, learning from her some little art in needlework, listening to an agreeable book, or Emily's more agreeable conversation, Kitty passed hours which were never forgotten, so peaceful were they, so serene, so totally unlike any she had ever spent before.
None could live in familiar intercourse with Emily, listen to her words, observe the radiance of her heavenly smile, and breathe in the pure atmosphere that environed her very being, and not carry away with them theloveof virtue and holiness, if not something of theiressence. She was so unselfish, so patient, notwithstanding her privations, that Kitty would have been ashamed to repine in her presence; and there was a contagious cheerfulness ever pervading her apartment, which, in spite of Kitty's recent cause of unhappiness, often led her to forget herself, and break into her natural tone of buoyancy and glee.