IN TOUCH WITH NATURE
The school vacation of the Harris young ladies came and went on wings. The mother was too ill to leave her home; she stood in her door-way, and gave her farewell, "God keep and bless you, children!" The father had gone to Chicago, so George Ingram saw the daughters off touching Gertrude's hand, with a hearty good-bye as she stood in the car door.
As George returned slowly to his task at the steel mills, he resolved to use his evenings in post-graduate work. The more he studied iron ores and steel-making, the more he felt that he must conquer the whole intricate subject, if he would be of greatest service to his employers. The intense competition in the trade demanded it.
The Empire State Express, the fastest train in the world, carried Gertrude and Lucille through New York state with speed and ease to delightful New England. Secretly Gertrude loved George, and she resolved to study chemistry and electricity and keep pace with his studies, and if ever asked to become his wife, to aid him in every possible way. She thought that she discovered in him the material for a noble man, a statue which she hoped to chisel. Too often marriageable young women and their anxious mothers demand the complete statue at the outset, and are not content to accept and chisel granite.
At Smith College the months sped rapidly, as earnest study and bright expectations occupied Gertrude's time and satisfied her heart. Every week brought a letter and a reply was promptly sent. George wanted to write twice a week, but Gertrude checked him, saying that both needed their time, and that too frequent correspondence, like too much intimacy, often brings disfavor.
"More details of the doings at the steel mills," wrote Gertrude. She cared more about the welfare of her father's employees and their families and George Ingram's plans than to know the latest fad in society. George was equally anxious to keep her informed, and to learn of her intellectual advancement, what books she read, and her views on the leading topics of the day.
Her first letter began, "My Coatless Friend," a reference to the loss of a linen coat or duster, when the last ride at Harrisville was taken. The second letter began "Friend George," and the third, "My dear Friend." Gertrude and George never addressed each other twice alike in their whole correspondence. The weekly letters were always torn open by each in haste, and both noticed a gradual increase of warmth in these addresses. The fact that Gertrude was an heiress neither hindered nor helped his devotion. His heart was attracted by her many charms.
At Smith College Gertrude occupied rooms in the Morris Cottage among the apple tree blossoms. Much of her spare time was spent in the scientific library and laboratory of Lilly Hall, or with the professor and his telescope in the observatory.
On clear nights, aided by the telescope, Gertrude gazed into the immensity of space, whispering sometimes to her own soul, "How grand this vast world-making, this frightful velocity of the giant dynamos in their elliptical pathways through space!"
Often unable to sleep, she continued her thoughts and wondered if space were not interlaced with electrical currents that move the earth, the sister planets, and the myriads of suns and their planets. She thought she saw, as never before, the necessity for an eternal existence of the mind, if God is to be studied and known in his infinite variety.
Four years in college had developed Gertrude into a beautiful character. Regular work in the gymnasium, much outdoor exercise, and care as to ventilation in her rooms, especially at night, had kept her in perfect physical health. Her intimates shared her glow of vitality, for her presence at "Lawn, or Character Teas," at tennis-courts, or at basket-ball always brought sunshine and enthusiasm.
The Saturday before commencement, her mother and Lucille came to enjoy the charming festivities of Smith College. A representation of Racine's "Athalie," with Mendelssohn's music, was the evening attraction at the Academy of Music, which the class had rented for the occasion.
Groups of ushers, with white satin wands, conducted students in tasteful dresses, and invited guests to their seats. When the curtain rose it was difficult to decide which one most admired, the stage with its artistic setting, its young faces, sweet voices, and graceful movements, or the sympathetic audience of students and their friends. The stage and press of the future guided in part by college-bred men and women will preach, it is hoped, purity, truth, and the beautiful.
Mrs. Harris and Lucille were very happy that Gertrude was to graduate, and Lucille who had just finished her education in Boston, half regretted that she too had not entered a woman's college. Gertrude never looked more beautiful than she did in the white-robed procession, as, on Baccalaureate Sunday, the several classes passed down the aisles of the church.
George Ingram had hurried to Northampton to see Gertrude graduate. She met him at the station, and took his hand warmly in both of hers. George had brought from New York a box of white roses for her room, and a big bunch of the star-flower, the pretty English blue forget-me-not. He also had in his valise a tiny case of which he made no mention to anybody.
Hundreds of young women in white walked across the campus and were massed on the college steps for their Ivy Exercise. Never before was George so proud of Gertrude. She and Nellie Nelson, afterwards Mrs. Eastlake, had been chosen by the class for their beauty and sweet ways to head the procession of the white-gowned graduates. The evening of Class-day is a fitting close of the gay festivities at Smith College.
At the evening reception, George was introduced to many of Gertrude's class-mates, and some of her intimate friends whispered, "Mr. Ingram and Gertrude must be engaged! What a handsome pair they will make." George offered his arm to Gertrude, and they walked about the campus under the classical trees that glowed with hundreds of colored paper lanterns; everywhere a throng of pretty happy girls with their relatives and friends. Music by the glee clubs on the college steps, and refreshments, closed pleasantly Gertrude's last night of college life on the beautiful Connecticut.
She went to bed tired, but very happy. That evening her mother and sister had left for New York, and in the morning she and George were to spend the day at Mt. Holyoke. Twice in the night, Gertrude awoke, looked at her watch, and longed for daylight, and then went back to dream of flowers and music.
While she slept, warm southern breezes spread a coverlet of silver gray mist over the homes of energy and thrift up and down the Connecticut Valley. In the morning when Gertrude opened the blinds, and saw the fog against the window panes and over the valley, she exclaimed, "It is too bad, I so wanted George to drive to Mt. Holyoke to-day, and see nature at her best! I hoped this would be the happiest day of my life."
It was a quarter to 8 o'clock when a pair of spirited black roadsters, hitched to a buckboard, were driven in front of the hotel for George Ingram. As he appeared on the porch he looked every inch a gentleman. He was twenty-five years old, had received a practical education, and was filling acceptably the important position of assistant chemist of the Harrisville Iron & Steel Co., to which, six months before, he had been promoted. He had fine physique, dark hair and eyes, and a military bearing that made him the natural commander of men. His firmness, tempered with great kindness of heart, always won for him the respect of both men and women.
He handled the team with skill for he was a member of the driving club at home. At a college window sat Gertrude who was eagerly watching for him, and now she ran down the gravel walk with a sunny face, greeting her manly lover with such sweet voice and grace, that a college girl in passing whispered to her companion. "Look, Bessie, there are true and handsome lovers such as we read about in novels, but seldom meet."
Gertrude insisted, since the fog was lifting, that George should hitch his horses and for five minutes go with her up on the college tower. As they looked out, Gertrude said, "Here, George, on the west are our half dozen cozy college houses; on the smooth green lawn below you see our tennis-courts, and an abundance of shade.
"Now, George, turn to the east and see how kindly the sun has removed the mist and made for us a glorious day. How bright the colors in our flag that floats over the high school yonder! There stands the Soldiers' Memorial Hall, the Edwards Church with graceful spire, and across the green meadows, with its winding stream of silver, rise the ranges of Mt. Tom and Mt. Holyoke, outlined in curves against the blue sky."
"Beautiful!" responded George, "and yet, Gertrude, nothing in nature is half so lovely as your own dear self." Without warning he kissed her rosy cheek, her whole face changing to crimson as she said, "George, we must be going."
Two happy young souls drove away from Smith College out under the Gothic elms, where the birds were mating and building their nests. The plan for the day was to drive to the mountain, and follow the mother and sister on the evening express to New York. The hotel clerk had pointed out the best road to Mt. Holyoke, and following his directions they drove southeast, leaving behind them shady Northampton, Smith College, and delightful memories of Jonathan Edwards, George Bancroft, and others.
A single white parasol was quite enough to protect two lovers from the sun's rays. Circular shadows, photographs of the sun, frolicked with each other in the roadway as gentle breezes swayed the overhanging boughs.
Milk wagons with noisy cans were returning home, herds of black and white Holstein-Friesian cattle, famous for their yield of milk, were cropping sweet grasses in the pastures. Farmers were guiding their cultivators and mowing machines, while wives and daughters were shelling June peas, hulling strawberries, and preparing for dinner. The large white houses, with roomy barns in the shade of big elms, were the happy homes of freemen. Gertrude wanted the horses to walk more, but George was unwilling to take the dust of wagons returning from the market, so he kept the horses moving at a brisk pace.
At length the Hockanum Ferry with its odd device was reached. George got out and led the horses into the middle of the small river craft. Then the boat was pushed off and a strong man and boy pulled at the wire rope. The ferryman's shanty, the willows, and tangled driftwood on the shore, fast receded, and soon the middle of the Connecticut River was reached, where the current is swiftest. In sight were several canoes with light sails, scudding before the wind. It seemed as if the tiny rope of the ferry would break, but the rope is of steel wire and the boat moved slowly till the opposite bank was reached. Gertrude held the lines, the sun shining full in her face, and talked to the boatman, to George, and the horses, but George said little as he was busy quieting the excited animals and studying the primitive rope-ferry.
To the regular ferrage, Gertrude added a dime for Tim, the helper, who watered the horses. As George was about to start his team, a twelve-year old farm boy ran aboard the boat with a string of fine speckled trout strung on a willow twig. All the spring the boy's anticipations for "a day off" had now been fully realized. Since daylight the little fellow had tramped up and down the brook, his feet were bruised and sore, and his face and hands were bitten by mosquitos. But what of that? He had caught a string of fine fish and was happy. Gertrude, for a silver dollar, bought the trout, and the boy danced with joy.
It was half past eleven before the Half-way Station up the mountain was reached, and the steep ascent to Prospect House on the top of Mt. Holyoke was made by the car on the inclined railway. The morning ride and the thought of a dinner of brook trout on the mountain had sharpened the appetites of the lovers. George and Gertrude needed but a single announcement of dinner from the clerk to make them hasten for seats at so inviting a meal. They sat near an open window, and never did they enjoy a dinner more. College work was now over, and on the threshold of life, apart from the busy world in sight below, two souls could plan and confide in each other. As the two walked the broad porch, a panorama unfolded before them of almost unsurpassed beauty.
Charles Sumner who, in 1847, stood on Mt. Holyoke, said, "I have never seen anything so unsurpassingly lovely as this." He had traveled through the Highlands of Scotland, up and down the Rhine, had ascended Mont Blanc, and stood on the Campagna in Rome. Gertrude with her college mates had often climbed Mt. Holyoke, and she was very familiar with this masterpiece of nature in western Massachusetts. So she described the grand landscape to her lover who sat enchanted with the scene before him.
"This alluvial basin," she said, "is twenty miles in length and fifteen in width, and is enclosed by the Mt. Holyoke and Mt. Tom ranges, and the abrupt cones of Toby and Sugar Loaf, while the Green Mountains lie to the north, whence the rich soils have been brought by thousands of vernal floods. Grove-like masses of elms mark well the townships of Northampton, Easthampton, Southampton and Westhampton, Hatfield, Williamsburg and Whately, Hadley, Amherst, Leverett and Sunderland.
"In twelve miles, the Connecticut River turns four times to the east and three times to the west, forming the famous 'Ox-Bow.'
"This beautiful river receives its life from springs in adjacent forests and mountains, and, forcing a passage between Mt. Holyoke and Mt. Nonotuck, flows far south into Long Island Sound. Its banks are fringed with a tanglewood of willows, shrubs, trees, and clambering vines. Bordering on the Connecticut River and near thrifty towns are thousands of acres of rich meadows and arable lands, without fence, which are interspersed with lofty trees and orchards and covered with exquisite verdure.
"These countless farms seen from this mountain top resemble garden plots, distinguishable from each other by vegetation varying in tints from the dark green of the maize to the brilliant gold of barley, rye, and oats. Over the billowy grain, cloud shadows chase each other as if in play. Grazing herds are on every hillside and in all the valleys."
Gertrude's words were music to George's ear. Her voice and the magnificent landscape charmed him. When released from the spell he said, "Yes, dear, you have this day hung a never-to-be-forgotten picture in my memory. I shall always remember the arching elms, white gables, college towers, and spires pointing heavenward that mark the towns in this historic and lovely intervale. I seem to hear far off sounds of busy people, thrifty mills, and successful railways. These reveal the secret of New England's power at home and abroad. The greatness of this people springs from their respect for, and practice of, the virtues so long taught in their schools and churches; viz., honesty, industry, economy, love of liberty, and belief in God. Here can be found inspirations for poet, painter, and sculptor."
How glorious the picture as the two young lovers looked out upon the world of promise! It was well thus, for much too soon in life, humanity experiences the same old story of unsatisfied ambitions and weary struggles after the unattainable.
Thus a happy summer afternoon was enjoyed till the sun hid his face behind the western hills. Clouds floated low on the horizon, revealing behind the gold and purple to ambitious souls the indistinct outlines of a gorgeous temple of fame; and birds of rich plumage among the mountain foliage were lulled to sleep by their own sweet songs.
"Life without Gertrude," thought George, "would prove a failure." Then taking her white hand in his, he whispered, "I love you, dearest, with all my heart, and you must be my wife."
"George," she replied, "in a thousand ways you have shown it. I have known your heart ever since we studied together at the high school. My own life has been ennobled by contact with yours." Her voice and hand trembled as she added, "Yes, George, my life and happiness I gladly place in your sacred keeping, and I promise purity and loyalty for eternity."
Then George opened the little case which he had brought from New York, and gave Gertrude a ring containing two diamonds and a ruby, which surprised and delighted her. She placed it on her first finger, saying, "George, we will advance this crystal pledge to the third finger just as soon as we get the consent of father and mother."
Gertrude had found on a former trip some purple crystals on the mountainside, and had had two unique emblems of their love made in New York City. George pinned upon Gertrude a gold star set with a purple amethyst, a tiny cross and a guard chain being attached, and she gave George a gold cross set with an amethyst, the guard pin being a tiny star and chain. Before midnight the two happy lovers had joined the mother and Lucille in New York, and at the close of the week all had returned to Harrisville.