A FRIEND IN AFFLICTION.
Passing over Gertrude's parting with Emily, her cordial reception by Mrs. Sullivan, and her commencement of school duties, we will record the events of a day in November, about two months after she left Mr. Graham's.
Rising with the sun, she made her neat toilet in a room so cold that her hands were half benumbed; nor did she omit, ere she began the labours of the day, to supplicate Heaven's blessing upon them. Then, noiselessly entering the adjoining apartment, where Mrs. Sullivan was still sleeping, she lit a fire, and performed a similar service at the cooking-stove, which stood in a comfortable room, where, now that the weather was cold, the family took their meals. The table was set for breakfast when Mrs. Sullivan entered, pale, thin, and feeble in her appearance, and wrapped in a large shawl.
"Gertrude," said she, "why did you let me sleep so late, while you are up and at work?"
"For the very best reason in the world, auntie; because I sleep all the early part of the night, and am wide awake at day-break, and with you it is quite the reverse. Besides, I like to get the breakfast; I make such beautiful coffee. Look!" said she, pouring some into a cup, and then lifting the lid of the coffee-pot, and pouring it back again; "see how clear it is! Don't you long for some of it?"
Mrs. Sullivan smiled, for, Uncle True having always preferred tea, Gertrude did not at first know how to make coffee.
"Now," said Gertrude, "I want you to sit down here and watch the tea-kettle boil, while I run and see if Mr. Cooper is ready to let me tie up his cue."
She went, leaving Mrs. Sullivan to think what a good girl she was; and presently returning with the old man, she placed a chair for him, and having waited while he seated himself, and then pinned a napkin about his throat, she proceeded to place the breakfast on the table.
While Mrs. Sullivan poured out the coffee, Gertrude removed the skin from a baked potato, and the shell from a boiled egg, and placing both on the plate destined for Mr. Cooper, handed him his breakfast in a state of preparation which obviated the difficulty the old man experienced in performing these tasks for himself. Poor Mrs. Sullivan had no appetite, and it was with difficulty Gertrude persuaded her to eat anything; but a few fried oysters, unexpectedly placed before her, proved such a temptation that she was induced to eat several, with a degree of relish she rarely felt for any article of food. As Gertrude gazed at her languid face, she realized, more than ever, the change which had come over the active little woman; and confident that nothing but positive disease could have effected such a transformation, she resolved that not another day should pass without her seeing a physician.
Breakfast over, there were dishes to wash, rooms to be put in order, dinner to be partially prepared; and all this Gertrude saw accomplished, chiefly through her own labour, before she went to re-arrange her dress, previous to her departure for the school where she had now been some weeks assistant teacher. A quarter before nine she looked in at the kitchen door, and said, in a cheering tone, to the old man, who was cowering gloomily over the fire—"Come, Mr. Cooper, won't you go over and superintend the new church a little while this morning? Mr. Miller will be expecting you; he said yesterday that he depended on your company when at work."
The old man rose, and taking his great-coat from Gertrude, put it on with her assistance, and accompanied her in a mechanical sort of way, which implied great indifference about going. As they walked in silence down the street, Gertrude could not but resolve in her mind the singular coincidence which had thus made her the almost daily companion of another infirm old man; nor could she fail to draw a comparison between the warm-hearted Uncle True, and the gloomy Paul Cooper. Unfavorable as the comparison was to the latter, it did not diminish the kindness of Gertrude towards her present charge, who was in her eyes an object of sincere compassion. They soon reached the new church—a very handsome edifice. It was not yet finished, and a number of workmen were completing the interior. A man with a hod full of mortar preceded Gertrude and her companion up the steps which led to the main entrance, but stopped inside the porch, on hearing himself addressed by name, and turned to respond to the well-known voice. "Good morning, Miss Flint," said he. "I hope you're very well, this fine day. Ah! Mr. Cooper, you've come to help me a little, I see—that's right. We can't go on very well without you—you're so used to the place. Here, sir, if you'll come with me I'll show you what has been done since you were here last; I want to know how you think we are getting along."
So saying, he was walking away with the old sexton; but Gertrude asked him if he would see Mr. Cooper safe home when he passed Mrs. Sullivan's house on his way to dinner.
"Certainly, Miss Flint," replied the man, "with all pleasure; he has usually gone with me readily, when you have left him in my care." Gertrude then hastened to the school, rejoicing that Mr. Cooper would be safe during the morning; and that Mrs. Sullivan would have the quiet she so much needed.
This man was a respectable mason, who had often been in Mr. Graham's employ, and whose good-will Gertrude had won by the kindness she had shown his family during the previous winter, when they were sick. In her daily walk past the church, she had oft seen Mr. Miller at work, and it occurred to her that, if she could awaken in Mr. Cooper's mind an interest in the new structure, he might find amusement in watching the workmen. She had some difficulty in persuading him to visit a building to the erection of which he had been opposed. Once there, he became interested in the work, and as Mr. Miller tried to make him comfortable, and made him believe that he was useful, he gradually acquired a habit of passing the greater part of every morning in watching the workmen. Sometimes Gertrude called for him on her return from school; and sometimes Mr. Miller took him home.
Since Gertrude had been at Mrs. Sullivan's there was a great alteration in Mr. Cooper. He was more manageable, and manifested less irritability, and his favourable change, together with the cheering influence of Gertrude's society, had produced a beneficial effect upon Mrs. Sullivan; but within the last few days, her increased debility, and two sudden attacks of faintness, had awakened Gertrude's fears. She determined, as soon as she should be released from her school duties, to seek Dr. Jeremy and request his attendance.
Of Gertrude's school-duties, she was found by Mr. W. competent to the performance of them, and that she met with those trials only which all teachers are subjected, from the idleness or stupidity of their pupils. On this day she was detained to a later hour than usual, and the clock struck two as she was ringing Dr. Jeremy's door-bell. The girl who opened the door knew Gertrude, and telling her that, although the doctor was just going to dinner, she thought he would see her, asked her into the office. He advanced to meet Gertrude, holding out both his hands. "Gertrude Flint, I declare!" exclaimed he. "Why, I'm glad to see you, my girl. Why haven't you been here before, I should like to know?" Gertrude explained that she was living with friends, one of whom was very old, the other an invalid; and that so much of her time was occupied in school, that she had no opportunity for visiting.
"Poor excuse," said the doctor; "poor excuse. But, now we've got you here, we shan't let you go very soon!" and going to the foot of the staircase, he called out loudly, "Mrs. Jeremy! Mrs. Jeremy! come down to dinner as quick as you can, and put on your best cap—we've got company.—Poor soul!" added he, in a lower tone, smiling, "she can't hurry, can she, Gerty?—she's so fat."
Gertrude protested against staying to dinner, declaring she must hasten home, and announcing Mrs. Sullivan's illness and the object of her visit.
"An hour can't make much difference," insisted the doctor. "You must stay and dine with me, and then I'll take you with me in the buggy." Gertrude hesitated; the sky had clouded over, and a few flakes of snow were falling; she should have an uncomfortable walk; and, moreover, it would be better for her to accompany the doctor, as the street in which she lived was principally composed of new houses, not yet numbered, and he might have some difficulty in finding the right tenement. Mrs. Jeremy now entered. Fat she certainly was, uncommonly fat, and flushed with the excitement of dressing. She kissed Gertrude, and then, seeing that no one else was present, exclaimed, glancing reproachfully at the doctor—"Why, Dr. Jeremy!—an't you ashamed of yourself? I never will believe you again; you made me think there was some great stranger here."
"And pray, Mrs. Jeremy, who's a greater stranger in this house than Gerty Flint?"
"Sure enough!" said Mrs. Jeremy. "Gertrude is a stranger, and I've got a scolding in store for her on that very account; but, you know, Dr. Jeremy, I shouldn't have put on my lilac-and-pink for Gertrude to see; she likes me just as well in my old yellow, if she did tell me, when I bought it, the saucy girl, that I'd selected the ugliest cap in Boston. Do you remember that Gerty?" Gerty laughed heartily at the recollection of an amusing scene that took place when she went shopping with Mrs. Jeremy. "But come, Gerty, dinner's ready; take off your cloak and bonnet, and come into the dining-room; the doctor has much to say, and has been wanting dreadfully to see you."
They had been sitting some minutes without a word having been spoken, when the doctor suddenly commenced laughing till tears came into his eyes. Gertrude looked at him, inquiringly, and Mrs. Jeremy said, "There, Gertrude!—for a whole week he had just such a laughing fit, two or three times a-day. I was as much astonished at first as you are; and I don't understand now what could have happened between him and Mr. Graham that was so very funny."
"Come, wife," said the doctor, "don't you forestall my communication. I want to tell the story myself. I don't suppose, Gertrude, you've lived five years at Mr. Graham's without finding out what a cantankerous, opinionative, obstinate old hulk he is!"
"Doctor!" said Mrs. Jeremy, "be careful."
"I don't care, wife; I'll speak my mind with regard to Mr. Graham; and Gertrude, here, has done the same, I haven't a particle of doubt, only she's a good girl, and won't say so."
"I never saw anything that looked like it," said Mrs. Jeremy; "I've seen as much of him as most folks. I meet him in the street almost every day, and he looks as smiling as a basket of chips, and makes a beautiful bow."
"I dare say," said the doctor; "Gertrude and I know what gentlemanly manners he has when one does not walk in the very teeth of his opinions—eh, Gertrude!—but when one does——"
"In talking politics, for instance," suggested Mrs. Jeremy. "It's your differences with him on politics that have set you against him so."
"No, it isn't," replied the doctor. "A man may get angry talking politics, and be a good-natured man too. I get angry myself on politics, but that isn't the sort of thing I refer to. It's Graham's wanting to lay down the law to everybody that comes within ten miles of him that I can't endure; his dictatorial way of acting as if he were the Grand Mogul of Cochin China. I thought he'd improved of late years; he had a serious lesson enough in that sad affair of poor Philip Amory's; but I believe he's been trying the old game again. Ha! ha! ha!" shouted the good doctor, leaning forward and giving Gertrude a light tap on the shoulder—"wasn't I glad when I found he'd met at last with a reasonable opposition! and that, too, where he least expected it!"
Gertrude looked her astonishment at his evident knowledge of the misunderstanding between herself and Mr. Graham. "You wonder where I got my information; I'll tell you. It was partly from Graham himself; and what diverts me is to think how hard the old chap tried to hide his defeat, and persuade me that he'd had his own way, when I saw through him, and knew that he'd found his match in you."
"Dr. Jeremy," said Gertrude, "I hope you don't think——"
"No, my dear, I don't think you a professional pugilist; but I consider you a girl of sense—one who knows what's right—and will do what's right, in spite of Mr. Graham; and when you hear my story you will know the grounds on which I formed my opinion with regard to the course things had taken. One day—about two months ago—I was summoned to go and see one of Mr. W.'s children, who had an attack of croup. Mr. W. was talking with me, when he was called away to see a visitor, and on his return he mentioned that he had secured your services in his school. I knew Emily intended you for a teacher, and I was thankful you had got so good a situation. At Mr. W.'s door I encountered Mr. Graham, and he entertained me as we went down the street with an account of his plan for the winter. 'But Gertrude Flint is not going with you,' said I.—'Gertrude!' said he; 'certainly she is.'—'Are you sure of that?' I asked. 'Have you invited her?'—'Invited her! No,' was his answer; 'but, of course, I know she will go, and be glad of the opportunity; it isn't every girl that is so fortunate.' Now, Gerty, I felt provoked at his way of speaking, and I answered, in as confident a tone as his own, 'I doubt whether she will accept the invitation.' Upon that, Mr. Dignity straightened up, and such a speech as he made! I never can recall it without being amused, especially when I think of the come-down that followed so soon after. I can't repeat it; but one would have thought to hear him that it was not only impossible you should oppose his wishes, but actual treason in me to suggest such a thing. I knew better than to tell what I had just heard from Mr. W., but I never felt a greater curiosity about anything than I did to know how the matter would end. Two or three times I planned to drive to see Emily, and hear the result; but a doctor never can call a day his own, and I got prevented. On Sunday I heard Mrs. Prime's voice in the kitchen (her niece lives here), and down I went to make my inquiries. She told me the truth, I rather think; though not, perhaps, all the particulars. It was not more than a day or two after that before I saw Graham. 'Ah,' said I; 'when do you start?'—'To-morrow,' replied he. 'Really,' I exclaimed; 'then I shan't see your ladies again. Will you take a little package from me to Gertrude?'—'I know nothing about Gertrude,' said he, stiffly.—'What!' rejoined I, affecting great surprise, 'has Gertrude left you?'—'She has,' answered he. 'And dared,' continued I, 'to treat you with such disrespect—to trifle so with your dignity?'—'Dr. Jeremy!' exclaimed he, 'I don't wish to hear her mentioned; she has behaved as ungratefully as she has unwisely.'—'Why, about the gratitude, Graham,' said I, 'I believe you said it would only be an additional favour on your part if you took her with you, and I think it is wisdom in her to make herself independent at home. But I really am sorry for you and Emily; you will miss her so much.'—'We can dispense with your sympathy, sir,' answered he; 'for that which is no loss.'—'Ah! really,' I replied; 'now, I was thinking Gertrude's society would be quite a loss.'—'Mrs. Ellis goes with us,' said he, with emphasis, that seemed to say her company compensated for all deficiencies.—'Ah!' said I, 'charming woman, Mrs. Ellis!' Graham looked annoyed, for he is aware that Mrs. Ellis is my antipathy."
"Well, you ought to have known better, Dr. Jeremy," said his kind-hearted wife, "than to have attacked a man so on his weak point: it was only exciting his temper for nothing."
"I was taking up the cudgels for Gertrude, wife."
"And I don't believe Gertrude wants you to take up the cudgels for her. I have no manner of doubts that she has the kindest of feelings towards Mr. Graham, this blessed minute."
"I have, Mrs. Jeremy," said Gertrude; "he has been a most generous and indulgent friend to me."
"Except when you wanted to have your own way," suggested the doctor.
"Which I seldom did when it was in opposition to his wishes. I always considered it my duty to submit to him, until at last a higher duty compelled me to do otherwise."
"And then, my dear," said Mrs. Jeremy, "I dare say it pained you to displease him; and that is a right woman's feeling, and one that Dr. Jeremy, in his own heart, can't but approve of, though one would think, to hear him talk, that he considered it pretty in a young girl to take satisfaction in browbeating an old gentleman. But don't let us talk any more about it; he has had his say, and now it's my turn. I want to hear how you are situated, Gerty, where you live, and how you like teaching."
Gertrude answered all these questions: and the doctor, who had heard Mrs. Sullivan spoken of as a friend of True's and Gerty's, made many inquiries as to her health. It was now snowing fast, and Gertrude's anxiety to return home in good season being very manifest to her kind host and hostess, they urged no further delay, and, after she had promised to repeat her visit, she drove away with the doctor.