The Lamplighter Part 31

"Then I will stay here," said Gertrude; and Emily, finding it to be her wish, went without her. There was soon another loud ring at the door-bell. It seemed to be a reception evening, and this time Gertrude's presence was particularly requested, to see Dr. and Mrs. Jeremy.

When she entered the parlour a great number of guests were a.s.sembled, and every seat occupied. As she came in alone, and unexpected by most of the company, all eyes were turned upon her. Contrary to the expectation of Belle and Kitty, who were watching her with curiosity, she manifested no embarra.s.sment, but glancing leisurely at the various groups, until she recognised Mrs. Jeremy, crossed the large saloon with characteristic grace, and as much ease as if she were the only person present. After greeting that lady with her usual cordiality, she turned to speak to the doctor; but he was sitting next f.a.n.n.y Bruce, in the window-seat, and was half-concealed by the curtain. Before he came Mrs. Bruce nodded pleasantly from the opposite corner, and Gertrude went to shake hands with her; Mr. Bruce, who formed one in a gay circle of young ladies and gentlemen collected in that part of the room, and who had been observing Gertrude's motions so attentively as to make no reply to a question put to him by Kitty Ray, now offered his chair, saying, "Miss Gertrude, do take this seat."

"Thank you," said Gertrude, "but I see my friend the doctor on the other side of the room; he expects me to speak to him, so don't let me disturb you."

Dr. Jeremy now came half-way across the room to meet her, and led her into the recess formed by the window, and placed her in his own seat next to f.a.n.n.y Bruce. To the astonishment of all who knew him, Ben Bruce brought his own chair, and placed it for the doctor opposite to Gertrude. So much respect for age was not antic.i.p.ated from the man of fashion.

"Is that a daughter of Mr. Graham's?" asked a young lady of Belle Clinton, who sat next her.

"No, indeed," replied Belle; "she is a person to whom Miss Graham gave an education, and now she lives here to read to her and be a sort of companion; her name is Flint."

"What did you say that young lady's name was?" asked a dashing lieutenant, addressing Isabel.

"Miss Flint."

"Flint, ah! she's a genteel-looking girl. How peculiarly she dresses her hair!"

"Very becoming, however, to that style of face," remarked the young lady who had first spoken. "Don't you think so?"

"I don't know," replied the lieutenant; "something becomes her; she makes a fine appearance. Bruce," said he, as Mr. Bruce returned, after his unusual effort of politeness, "who is that Miss Flint?--I have been here two or three times, and I never saw her before."

"Very likely," said Mr. Bruce; "she won't always show herself. Isn't she a fine-looking girl?"

"I haven't made up my mind yet; she's got a splendid figure; but who is she?"

"She's a sort of adopted daughter of Mr. Graham's, I believe, a _protegee_ of Miss Emily's."

"Ah, poor thing! An orphan?"

"Yes, I suppose so," said Ben, biting his lips.

"Pity!" said the young man; "poor thing! but she's good-looking, particularly when she smiles; there is something very attractive about her face."

There certainly was to Ben, for, a moment after, Kitty Ray missed him from the room, and immediately espied him, standing on the piazza, and leaning through the open window to talk with Gertrude, Dr. Jeremy, and f.a.n.n.y. The conversation soon became very lively; there seemed to be a war of wits going on; the doctor, especially, laughed very loud, and Gertrude and f.a.n.n.y often joined in the merry peal. Kitty endured it as long as she could, and then ran, joined the party, and heard what they were having so much fun about.

But it was all an enigma to Kitty. Dr. Jeremy was talking with Mr. Bruce concerning something which had happened many years ago; there was a great deal about a fool's cap, with a long ta.s.sel, and taking afternoon naps in the gra.s.s; the doctor was making queer allusions to some old pear-tree, and traps set for thieves, and kept reminding Gertrude of circ.u.mstances which attended their first acquaintance with each other and with Mr. Bruce.

Kitty was beginning to feel that she had placed herself in the position of an intruder, and began to feel embarra.s.sed, when Gertrude touched her arm, and making room for her next herself, motioned to her to sit down, saying, as she did so, "Dr. Jeremy is speaking of the time when he (or he and I, as he chooses to have it) went fruit-stealing in Mrs. Bruce's orchard, and were unexpectedly caught by Mr. Bruce."

"You mean, my dear," interrupted the doctor, "that Mr. Bruce was discovered by us. Why, it's my opinion he would have slept until this time if I hadn't given him such a thorough waking up."

"My first acquaintance with you was certainly the greatest awakening of my life," said Ben, speaking as if to the doctor, but looking meaningly at Gertrude; "that was not the only nap it cost me. How sorry I am, Miss Gertrude, that you've given up working in the garden, as you used to!

Pray, how does it happen?"

"Mrs. Graham has had it remodelled," replied Gertrude, "and the new gardener neither needs nor desires my services. He has his own plans, and it is not well to interfere with the professor of an art; I should be sure to do mischief."

"I doubt whether his success compares with yours," said Ben. "I do not see anything like the same quant.i.ty of flowers in the room that _you_ used to have."

"I think," said Gertrude, "that he is not as fond of cutting them as I was. I did not care so much for the appearance of the garden as for having plenty of flowers in the house; but with him it is the reverse."

Kitty made remark to Mr. Bruce on the subject of gardening, and Gertrude, turning to Dr. Jeremy, continued in conversation with him, until Mrs. Jeremy rose to go, when she said, "Dr. Jeremy, have you given Gertrude her letter?"

"Goodness me!" exclaimed the doctor. Then feeling in his pocket, he drew forth an evidently foreign doc.u.ment, the envelope literally covered with various coloured post-office stamps. "See here, Gerty, genuine Calcutta; no mistake!"

Gertrude took the letter, and, as she thanked the doctor, her countenance expressed pleasure at receiving it; a pleasure, however, somewhat tempered by sadness, for she had heard from Willie but once since he learned the news of his mother's death, and that letter had been such an outpouring of his vehement grief, that the sight of his handwriting almost pained her, as she antic.i.p.ated something like a repet.i.tion of the outburst.

Mr. Bruce, who kept his eyes upon her, and expected to see her change colour, and look disconcerted, on the letter being handed to her in the presence of so many witnesses, was rea.s.sured by the composure with which she took it, and held it openly in her hand, while she bade the doctor and his wife good evening. She followed them to the door, and was retreating to her own apartment, when she was met by Mr. Bruce, who had noticed the movement, and now entered from the piazza in time to arrest her steps, and ask if her letter was of such importance that she must deny the company the pleasure of her society in order to study its contents.

"It is from a friend of whose welfare I am anxious to hear," said Gertrude, gravely. "Please excuse me to your mother, if she inquires for me; and, as the rest of the guests are strangers, I shall not be missed by them."

"Oh, Miss Gertrude," said Mr. Bruce, "it's no use coming here to see you, you are so frequently invisible. What part of the day is the most likely to find you disengaged?"

"Hardly any part," said Gertrude. "I am always a busy character; but good night, Mr. Bruce--don't let me detain you from the other young ladies;" and Gertrude ran upstairs, leaving Mr. Bruce uncertain whether to be vexed with himself or her.

Contrary to Gerty's expectations, William Sullivan's letter proved very soothing to the grief she had felt on his account. His spirit had been so crushed by the death of his grandfather, and by his second and still greater loss, that his first communication to Gertrude had alarmed her, from its despairing tone; she had feared lest his Christian fort.i.tude would give way to the force of his double affliction. She was much relieved to find that he wrote in a calmer strain; that he had taken to heart his mother's last entreaty and prayer for a submissive disposition on his part; and that, although deeply afflicted, he was schooling himself to patience and resignation.

The three closely-written pages were devoted to fervent expressions of grat.i.tude to Gertrude for the kindness and love which had comforted the last days of his much-regretted friends. He prayed that Heaven would bless her, and reward her self-denying efforts, and closed with saying, "You are all that is left to me, Gertrude. If I loved you before, my heart is now bound to you by ties stronger than those of earth; my hopes, my labours, my prayers, are all for you. G.o.d grant that we may some day meet again!"

For an hour Gertrude sat lost in meditation; her thoughts went back to her home at Uncle True's, and the days when she and Willie pa.s.sed so many happy hours in close companionship, little dreaming of the long separation so soon to ensue. She was startled at last from her reverie by the voices of Mrs. Graham's visitors, who were now taking leave.

Mrs. Bruce and her son lingered a little, until the carriages had left with the guests for the city, and, as they were making their farewells on the door-step, beneath Gertrude's window, she heard Mrs. Graham say, "Remember, Mr. Bruce, we dine at two; and, Miss f.a.n.n.y, we shall hope to see you also."

Mr. Bruce's attentions to her had that day been marked; and the professions of admiration he had whispered in her ear had been still more so. Both these attentions and this admiration were unsought and undesired; neither were they flattering to the high-minded girl, who was superior to coquetry, and whose self-respect was wounded by the a.s.sured manner in which Mr. Bruce made his advances. As a youth of seventeen, she had marked him as indolent and ill-bred. Her sense of justice, however, would have obliterated this recollection, had his character and manner been changed on the renewal of their acquaintance, some years after. But this was not the case, for outward polish could not cloud Gertrude's discernment; and she perceived that his old characteristics remained, rendered more glaring by ill-concealed vanity. As a boy, he had stared at Gertrude from impudence, and inquired her name out of idle curiosity; as a youthful c.o.xcomb he had resolved to flirt with her, because his time hung heavy on his hands. But, to his surprise, he found the country girl quite insensible to the flattery and notice which many a city belle had coveted; and that when he tried raillery, he usually proved the disconcerted party.

It was something new to Mr. Bruce to find any lady thus indifferent to his merits; and proved such an awakening to his ambition, that he resolved to recommend himself to Gertrude, and consequently improved every opportunity of gaining admittance to her society. But while labouring to inspire her with a due appreciation of himself, he fell into his own snare; for though he failed in awakening Gertrude's interest, he could not be equally insensible to her attractions. Even the dull intellect of Ben Bruce was capable of measuring her vast superiority to most girls of her age; and her vivacious originality was a contrast to the insipidity of fashionable life, which at length completely charmed him.

His earnestness and perseverance began to annoy the object of his admiration before he left Mr. Graham's in the autumn; and she was glad soon after to hear that he had accompanied his mother to Washington, as it insured her against meeting him again for months to come.

Mr. Bruce regretted losing sight of Gertrude, but amid the gaiety of southern cities wasted his time with tolerable satisfaction. He was reminded of her again on meeting the Graham party at New Orleans, and it is some credit to his understanding to say, that in the comparison which he constantly drew between her and the vain daughters of fashion, she stood higher than ever in his estimation. He did not hesitate to tell her so on the morning already mentioned, when, with evident satisfaction, he had recognized and joined her; and, the increased devotion of his words and manner, which now took a tone of truth in which they had before been wanting, alarmed Gertrude, and led to a serious resolve to avoid him on all possible occasions.

On the day succeeding the one of which we have been speaking, Mr. Graham returned from the city about noon, and joined the young ladies in the entry, unfolded his newspaper, and, handing it to Kitty, asked her to read the news. "What shall I read?" said Kitty, taking the paper rather unwillingly.

"The leading article, if you please."

Kitty turned the paper inside and out, looked hastily up and down its pages, and then declared her inability to find it. Mr. Graham was astonished, and pointed in silence to the paragraph. She began, but had scarcely read a sentence before Mr. Graham stopped her, saying, "Don't read so fast--I can't hear a single word!" She now drawled so intolerably that he interrupted her again, and bade her give the paper to her cousin.

Belle took it from the pouting Kitty, and finished the article--not, however, without being once or twice compelled to go back and read more intelligibly.

"Do you wish to hear anything more, sir?" asked she.

"Yes; won't you turn to the ship-news, and read me the list by the steamer?" Belle, more fortunate than Kitty, found the place, and commenced. "At Canton, April 30th, ship Ann Maria, Ray, _d-i-s-c-g_.

What does that mean?"

"Discharging, of course; go on."

"S-l-d--a-b-t 13th," spelt Belle, looking dreadfully puzzled all the while.

"Stupid!" muttered Mr. Graham, almost s.n.a.t.c.hing the paper out of her hands; "not know how to read ship-news! Where's Gertrude? Where's Gertrude Flint? She's the only girl I ever saw that did know anything.