This thought troubled Emily; and she regretted much that this unusual journey should take place so inopportunely. But there was no help for it; for Mr. Graham's plans were arranged, unless she would make Gertrude's coming, at the very outset, disagreeable. She started for town, therefore, the next morning, quite undecided what course to pursue.
The day was Sunday, but Emily's errand was one of charity and love, and would not admit of delay; and an hour before the time for morning service Mrs. Sullivan saw Mr. Graham's carriage stop at the door. She ran to meet Emily, and guided her into her neat parlour to a comfortable seat, placed in her hand a fan (for the weather was very warm), and then told her how thankful she was to see her, and how sorry she felt that Gertrude was not at home. Emily wonderingly asked where Gertrude was, and learned that she was out walking with Willie. A succession of inquiries followed, and a touching story was told by Mrs. Sullivan of Gertrude's agony of grief, and the fears she had entertained lest the girl would die of sorrow.
"I couldn't do anything with her myself," said she. "There she sat, day after day, last week, on her little stool, by Uncle True's easy-chair, with her head on the cushion, and I couldn't get her to move or eat a thing. She didn't appear to hear me when I spoke to her; and if I tried to move her, she didn't struggle, but she seemed just like a dead weight in my hands: and I couldn't bear to make her come away into my room, though I knew it would change the scene, and be better for her. If it hadn't been for Willie, I don't know what I should have done, I was getting so worried about the poor child; but he knows how to manage her better than I do. When he is at home we get along very well, for he takes her right up in his arms (he's very strong, and she's as light as a feather), and either carries her into some other room, or out in the yard; and he contrives to cheer her wonderfully. He persuades her to eat, and in the evenings, when he comes home from the store, takes long walks with her. Last evening they went over Chelsea Bridge, where it was cool and pleasant; and I suppose he diverted her attention and amused her, for she came home brighter than I've seen her, and quite tired. I got her to go to bed in my room, and she slept soundly all night, so that she really looks like herself to-day. They've gone out again this morning, and, being Sunday, and Willie at home all day, I've no doubt he'll keep her spirits up, if anybody can."
"Willie shows very good judgment," said Emily, "in trying to change the scene for her, and divert her thoughts. I'm thankful she has had such kind friends. I promised Mr. Flint she should have a home with me when he was taken away, and not knowing of his death until now, I consider it a great favour to myself, as well as her, that you have taken such excellent care of her. I felt sure you have been all goodness, or it would have given me great regret that I had not heard of True's death before."
"O, Miss Emily!" said Mrs. Sullivan, "Gertrude is so dear to us, and we have suffered so much in seeing her suffer, that it was a kindness to ourselves to do all we could to comfort her. Why, I think she and Willie could not love each other better if they were own brother and sister: and Willie and uncle True were great friends! indeed, we shall all miss him very much. My old father doesn't say much about it, but I can see he's very downhearted."
Mrs. Sullivan now informed Emily that a cousin of hers, a farmer's wife, living about twenty miles from Boston, had invited them all to pass a week or two with her at the farm; and, as Willie was now to enjoy his usual summer vacation, they proposed accepting the invitation. She spoke of Gertrude's accompanying them, and enlarged upon the advantage it would be to her to breathe the country air, and ramble about the fields and woods, after all the fatigue and confinement she had endured.
Emily, finding that Gertrude would be a welcome guest, cordially approved of the visit, and also arranged with Mrs. Sullivan that she should remain under her care until Mr. Graham removed to Boston for the winter. She was then obliged to leave, without waiting for Gertrude's return, though she left many a kind message for her, and placed in Mrs. Sullivan's hands a sufficient sum of money to provide for all her wants.
Gertrude went into the country, and abundance of novelty, country fare, healthful exercise, and kindness and sympathy, brought the colour into her cheek, and calmness and happiness into her heart. Soon after the Sullivan's return from their excursion, the Grahams removed to the city, and Gertrude had now been with them about a week. "Are you still standing at the window, Gertrude. What are you doing, dear?"
"I'm watching to see the lamps lit, Miss Emily."
"But they will not be lit at all. The moon will rise at eight o'clock, and light the streets sufficiently for the rest of the night."