FRUSTRATED PLANS.
When Gertrude entered the room in half-an-hour, her face showed no mental distress. Mrs. Bruce nodded to her good naturedly from a corner of the sofa. Mr. Bruce rose and offered his chair at the same time that Mr. Graham pointed to a vacant window-seat near him, and said kindly, "Here is a place for you, Gertrude."
Declining these civilities, she withdrew to an ottoman near an open glass door, where she was immediately joined by Mr. Bruce, who, seating himself in an indolent attitude upon the upper row of a flight of steps which led from the window to the garden, commenced conversation with her.
Mr. Bruce—the gentleman who, some years before, wore a velvet smoking-cap, and took afternoon naps in the grass—had recently returned from Europe, and, glorifying in the renown acquired from a moustache, a French tailor, and the possession of a handsome property in his own right, now viewed himself with more complacency than ever.
"So you've been in Boston all day, Miss Flint?"
"Yes, nearly all day."
"Didn't you find it distressingly warm?"
"Somewhat so."
"I tried to go in to attend to some business that mother was anxious about, and even went down to the depot; but I had to give it up."
"Were you overpowered by the heat?"
"I was."
"How unfortunate!" remarked Gertrude, in a half-compassionate, half-ironical tone of voice.
Mr. Bruce looked up, to judge from her countenance whether she were serious or not; but there being little light in the room, on account of the warmth of the evening, he could not decide the question, and therefore replied, "I dislike the heat, Miss Gertrude, and why should I expose myself to it unnecessarily?"
"Oh, I beg your pardon; I thought you spoke of important business."
"Only some affair of my mother's. Nothing I felt any interest in, and she took the state of the weather for an excuse. If I had known that you were in the cars, as I have since heard, I should certainly have persevered, in order to have had the pleasure of walking down Washington Street with you."
"I did not go down Washington Street."
"But you would have done so with a suitable escort," suggested the young man.
"If I had gone out of my way for the sake of accompanying my escort, the escort would have been a very doubtful advantage," said Gertrude, laughing.
"How very practical you are, Miss Gertrude! Do you mean to say that, when you go to the city, you always have a settled plan of operations, and never swerve from your course?"
"By no means. I trust I am not difficult to influence when there is a sufficient motive."
The young man bit his lip. "Then you never act without a motive; pray, what is your motive in wearing that broad-brimmed hat when you are at work in the garden?"
"It is an old habit, adopted some years ago from motives of convenience, and still adhered to, in spite of later inventions, which would certainly be a better protection from the sun. I must plead guilty, I fear, to a little obstinacy in my partiality for that old hat."
"Why not confess, Miss Gertrude, that you wear it in order to look fanciful and picturesque, so that the neighbours' slumbers are disturbed by the thoughts of it? My own morning dreams, for instance, are so haunted by that hat, as seen in company with its owner, that I am daily drawn, as if by magnetic attraction, in the direction of the garden. You will have a heavy account to settle with Morpheus, one of these days, for defrauding him of his rights; and your conscience too will suffer for injuries to my health, sustained by continued exposure to early dews."
"It is hard to condemn me for such unintentional mischief; but since I am to experience so much future remorse on account of your morning visits, I shall take upon myself the responsibility of forbidding them."
"Oh, you wouldn't be so unkind!—especially after all the pains I have taken to impart to you the little I know of horticulture."
"Very little I think it must have been; or I have but a poor memory," said Gertrude, laughing.
"Have you forgotten the pains I took yesterday to acquaint you with the different varieties of roses? Don't you remember how much I had to say of damask roses and damask bloom; and how before I finished, I could not find words enough in praise of blushes, especially such sweet and natural ones as met my eyes while I was speaking?"
"I know you talked a great deal of nonsense. I hope you don't think I listened to it all."
"Oh, Miss Gertrude! It is of no use to say flattering things to you; you always regard my compliments as jokes."
"I have told you, several times, that it was most useless to waste so much flattery upon me. I am glad you are beginning to realise it."
"Well, then, to ask a serious question, where were you this morning at half-past seven?"
"On my way to Boston in the cars."
"Is it possible?—so early! Why, I thought you went at ten. Then, all the time I was watching by the garden wall to say good-morning, you were half-a-dozen miles away. I wish I had not wasted that hour so; I might have spent it in sleeping."
"Very true, it is a great pity."
"And then half-an-hour more here this evening! How came you to keep me waiting so long?"
"I was not aware of doing so. I certainly did not take your visit to myself."
"My visit certainly was not meant for anyone else."
"Ben," said Mr. Graham, approaching rather abruptly, and taking part in the conversation, "are you fond of gardening? I thought I heard you just now speaking of roses?"
"Yes, sir; Miss Flint and I were having quite a discussion upon flowers—roses especially."
Gertrude, availing herself of Mr. Graham's approach, tried to escape and join the ladies at the sofa; but Mr. Bruce, who had risen on Mr. Graham's addressing him, saw her intention, and frustrated it by placing himself in the way, so that she could not pass him without positive rudeness. Mr. Graham continued, "I propose placing a small fountain in the vicinity of Miss Flint's flower garden; won't you walk down with me, and give your opinion of my plan?"
"Isn't it too dark, sir, to——"
"No, no, not at all; there is ample light for our purpose. This way, if you please;" and Mr. Bruce was compelled to follow where Mr. Graham led, though, in spite of his acquaintance with Paris manners, he made a wry face, and shook his head menacingly.
Gertrude was now permitted to relate to Mrs. Bruce the results of the shopping which she had undertaken on her account, and display the buttons, which proved very satisfactory. The gentlemen, soon returning, took seats near the sofa, and the conversation became general.
"Mr. Graham," said Mrs. Bruce, "I have been asking Emily about your visit to the south; and I think it will be a charming trip."
"I hope so, madame; it will be an excellent thing for Emily, and as Gertrude has never travelled, I anticipate a great deal of pleasure for her."
"Ah! then you are to be of the party, Miss Flint?"
"Of course," said Mr. Graham, without giving Gertrude a chance to speak for herself; "we depend upon Gertrude; couldn't get along without her."
"It will be delightful for you," continued Mrs. Bruce, her eyes still fixed on Gertrude.
"I did expect to go with Mr. and Miss Graham," answered Gertrude, "and looked forward to the journey with the greatest eagerness; but I have just decided that I must remain in Boston this winter."
"What are you talking about, Gertrude?" asked Mr. Graham. "What do you mean? This is all news to me."
"And to me, too, sir, or I should have informed you of it before. I supposed you expected me to accompany you, and there is nothing I should like so much. I should have told you before of the circumstances that now make it impossible; but they are of quite recent occurrence."
"But we can't give you up, Gertrude; I won't hear of such a thing; you must go with us in spite of circumstances."
"I fear I shall not be able," said Gertrude, smiling pleasantly, but still retaining her firmness of expression; "you're very kind, sir, to wish it."
"Wish it!—I tell you I insist upon it. You are under my care, child, and I have a right to say what you shall do."
Mr. Graham was excited. Gertrude and Emily looked troubled, but neither spoke.
"Give me your reasons, if you have any," said Mr. Graham, vehemently, "and let me know what has put this strange notion into your head."
"I will explain it to you to-morrow, sir."
"To-morrow! I want to know now. Tell me what all this means? Here I plan my business, and make all my arrangements, to give up this winter to travelling—not so much on my own account as to please both of you, and, just as all is settled, and we are on the point of starting, Gertrude says that she has concluded not to go."
Emily undertook to explain Gertrude's motives, and ended by expressing her approbation of her course. As soon as she had finished, Mr. Graham, who had listened very impatiently, and interrupted her with many a "pish!" and "pshaw!" burst forth with redoubled indignation. "So Gerty prefers the Sullivans to us, and you seem to encourage her in it! I should like to know what they have ever done for her, compared with what I have done."
"They have been friends of hers for years, and now that they are in great distress, she does not feel as if she could leave them, and I confess I do not wonder at her decision."
"I do. She prefers to make a slave of herself in Mr. W.'s school, and a greater slave in Mrs. Sullivan's family, instead of staying with us, where she has been treated like a lady, and like one of our own family."
"Oh, Mr. Graham!" said Gertrude, earnestly, "it is not a matter of choice, except as I feel it to be a duty."
"And what makes it a duty? Just because you used to live with them, and that boy out in Calcutta has sent you home a camel's-hair scarf and a cage full of miserable little birds, and written you letters, you must forfeit your own interest to take care of his sick relations! Can their claim compare with mine? Haven't I given you the best of educations, and spared not expense for your improvement and happiness?"
"I did not think, sir," said Gertrude, humbly, and yet with dignity, "of counting up the favours I had received, and measuring my conduct accordingly. In that case my obligations to you are immense, and you would certainly have the greatest claim upon my services."
"Services! I don't want your services, child. Mrs. Ellis can do quite as well as you can for Emily, or me either; but I like your company, and think it is very ungrateful in you to leave us, as you talk of doing."
"Father," said Emily, "I thought the object in giving Gertrude a good education was to make her independent of all the world, and not simply dependent upon us."
"Emily," said Mr. Graham, "I tell you it is a matter of feeling—you don't seem to look upon the thing in the light I do; but you are both against me, and I won't talk any more about it."
So saying, Mr. Graham went to his study, and was seen no more that night.
Poor Gertrude! Mr. Graham, who had been so generous, who had seldom or ever spoken harshly to her, and had always treated her with great indulgence, was now deeply offended. He had called her ungrateful; he felt that she had abused his kindness, and believed that he and Emily stood in her imagination secondary to other far less warm-hearted friends. Deeply wounded, she hastened to say good-night to the no less afflicted Emily, and, seeking her own room, gave way to feelings that caused her a sleepless night.