"New York, March 31, 1852.
"Dear Gertrude,—As there were plenty of Boston folks at the wedding, you have heard before this of Mr. Graham's marriage. He married the widow Holbrook, the same I wrote to you about. She was determined to have him, and she's got him. I don't hesitate to say he's got the worst of the bargain. He likes a quiet life, and he's lost the chance of that—poor man!—for she's the greatest hand for company that ever I saw. She followed Mr. Graham up pretty well at Havanna, but I guess he thought better of it, and didn't mean to have her. But when we got to New Orleans, she was there; and she carried her point, and married him. Emily behaved beautifully; she never said a word against it, and always treated the lady as pleasantly as could be; but, dear me! how will our Emily get along with so many folks about all the time, and so much noise and confusion? For my part, I an't used to it, and it's not agreeable. The new lady is civil enough to me, now she's married. I daresay she thinks it stands her in hand, as long as she's one of the family, and I've been in it so long. But I suppose you've been wondering what had become of us, Gertrude, and will be surprised to find we have got so far as New York, on our way home—my way home, for I'm the only one that talks of coming at present. I kept meaning to write while we were in New Orleans, but there was so much going on I didn't get the chance; and, after that horrid steamboat from Charleston here, I wasn't good for anything for a week. But Emily was so anxious that I couldn't put off writing any longer. Poor Emily isn't very well; I don't mean that she's downright sick—it's low spirits more than anything. She gets tired and worried very quick, and easily disturbed, which didn't used to be the case. It may be the new wife, and all the nieces and other disagreeable things. She never complains, and nobody would know but what she was pleased to have her father married again; but she hasn't seemed happy all winter, and now it troubles me to see how she looks sometimes. She talks a sight about you, and felt dreadfully not to get any more letters. But to come to the principal thing, they are all going to Europe—Emily and all. I take it, it's the new wife's idea. Mr. Graham wanted me to go, but I would as soon be hung as venture on the sea again, and I told him so. So now he has written for you to go with Emily; and if you are not afraid of sea-sickness, I hope you won't refuse, for it would be dreadful for her to have a stranger, and you know she always needs somebody on account of her blindness. I do not think she has the least wish to go; but she would not ask to be left behind, for fear her father should think she did not like the new wife.
"As soon as they sail—the last of April—I shall come back to the house in D——, and see to things there while they are away. I write a postscript to you from Emily, and we shall be very impatient to hear your answer; and I hope you will not refuse to go with Emily.
"Yours very truly,
"Sarah H. Ellis."
The postscript contained the following:—
"I need not tell my darling Gertrude how much I have missed her, and longed to have her with me again; how I have thought of her by night and day, and prayed God to strengthen and fit her for many trials and labours. The letter written soon after Mr. Cooper's death is the last that has reached me, and I do not know whether Mrs. Sullivan is still living. Write to me at once, my dear child, if you cannot come to us. Father will tell you of our plans, and ask you to accompany us to Europe. My heart will be light if I can take my dear Gerty with me; I trust to you, my love, to decide aright. You have heard of father's marriage. It is a great change for us all, but will, I trust, result in happiness. Mrs. Graham has two nieces, who are with us at the hotel. They are to be of our party to go abroad, and are, I understand, very beautiful girls, especially Bella Clinton, whom you saw in Boston some years ago. Mrs. Ellis is very tired of writing, and I must close with assuring my dearest Gertrude of the devoted affection of
"Emily Graham."
It was with great curiosity that Gertrude unfolded Mr. Graham's epistle. She thought it would be awkward for him to address her, and wondered much whether he would maintain his authoritative tone, or condescend to apologise. Had she known him better, she would have been assured that nothing would ever induce him to do the latter, for he was one of those persons who never believe themselves in the wrong.
"Miss Gertrude Flint,—I am married, and intend to go abroad on the 28th of April. My daughter will accompany us, and as Mrs. Ellis dreads the sea, I propose that you join us in New York, and attend the party as a companion to Emily. I have not forgotten the ingratitude with which you once slighted a similar offer on my part, and nothing would compel me to give you another opportunity to manifest such a spirit, but a desire to promote the happiness of Emily, and a sincere wish to be of service to a young person who has been in my family so long that I feel a friendly interest in providing for her. By complying with our wishes, you will remove the recollection of your past behaviour; and, if you choose to return to us, I shall enable you to maintain the place and appearance of a lady. As we sail the last of the month, it is important you should write and name the day. I will meet you at the boat. Mrs. Ellis being anxious to return to Boston, I hope you will come as soon as possible. I enclose a sum of money to cover expenses. If you have contracted debts, let me know to what amount, and I will see that all is paid before you leave. Trusting you are now come to a sense of your duty, I subscribe myself your friend,
"J. H. Graham."
Gertrude was sitting near a lamp, whose light fell directly upon her face, which, as she glanced over Mr. Graham's note, flushed crimson with wounded pride. Dr. Jeremy observed her colour change, and during the few minutes that Mr. and Miss Arnold stayed to hear the news, he gave an occasional glance of defiance at the letter, and as soon as they were gone, begged to be made acquainted with its contents.
"He writes," said Gertrude, "to invite me to accompany them to Europe."
"Indeed!" said Dr. Jeremy, with a low whistle; "and he thinks you'll be silly enough to pack up and start off at a minute's notice!"
"Why, Gerty," said Mrs. Jeremy, "you'll like to go, shan't you, dear? It will be delightful."
"Delightful—nonsense! Mrs. Jeremy," exclaimed the doctor; "what is there delightful, I want to know, in travelling about with an arrogant old tyrant, his blind daughter, upstart dashy wife, and her two fine-lady nieces? A pretty position Gertrude would be in—a slave to the whims of all that company."