But nothing could make Gertie other than pretty, and when, just after breakfast, a step was heard on the walk, and I saw by the flush on her cheek that she knew whose step it was, I had never seen her more beautiful. Godfrey had come early, and was in the best of spirits, and so tender and loving toward Gertie that I watched him wonderingly, for I did not know what had passed between him and Alice, and could not guess how his heart was beating with joy at his freedom, and with hope for the future. He had brought her a bouquet of flowers and some grapes from the hot-house, and he hovered about her restlessly, and called her a little nun in that queer garb and mob cap, as he styled the net which he playfully pulled from her head, letting her hair fall over her shoulders, and about her face.
“There, isn’t she just like some picture set in a golden frame?” he said, pushing back a stray tress from her forehead, and then stepping aside to let me see and admire, too.
How Gertie’s blue eyes drooped beneath his gaze, and how the hot blood colored her cheeks, until she looked like some guilty thing cowering from shame. And Gertie did feel guilty, and as if she were usurping another’s rights. She knew who it was that saved her from drowning, and she knew now that what she had thought might be a dream, must in part at least have been a reality; that amid the horrid blackness which was so much like death, Godfrey’s lips had kissed hers passionately, and Godfrey’s voice had called her his darling, and bade her come back to life again for the sake of the love he bore her. Yes, Godfrey had done all that, and he was doing it over again, so far as he dared, with me there in the way; and Gertie’s heart beat with joy, and then was heavy as lead when she remembered Alice Creighton, and her promise to Colonel Schuyler, which she must keep, if the heavens fell.
“I am coming to see you again after lunch, but meantime, I will send you some of your things, and I want you dressed in white, with these in your hair,” Godfrey said, taking from the bouquet a few forget-me-nots, which he laid in her lap. “I am going to tell you something which may astonish you, but will nevertheless make you glad, I hope, so au revoir, ma chère.”
He kissed her, and when she drew back in surprise, he wound his arm around my neck, and kissed me, saying:
“You see, I serve you both alike, the old maid and the young one. Adieu.”
He was off like the wind, and we could hear him going rapidly down the walk, his very step indicative of buoyant life, and vigor, and elasticity. I did not say anything to Gertie, but left her alone, while I attended to some household duties. When I returned to her after the lapse of an hour, I found her asleep on the lounge, with a troubled expression on her face and a tear on her eyelashes. The carriage from the hill was at the gate, Robert Macpherson and Emma were coming up to the door, and so I woke her and made her ready for them. Emma was paler than usual, but there was something in the expression of her face which made her prettier than I had ever seen her before. She was quite recovered, and she was in almost as good spirits as Godfrey had been, while Robert’s eyes followed her with an expression which set me to wondering if everything had been turned topsy-turvy by that accident in the river. I had a lily I wished to show Robert, who was something of a florist, and asked him into the garden.
“Yes, that’s a good old Ettie,—keep him as long as you can. I want to see Gertie alone,” Emma whispered to me, and as soon as we were gone she went up to Gertie and said:
“Guess now what has happened! Robert wants me to be his wife,—and I thought all the while it was Julia! He said so last night, and would have told me before but for the misfortune of his birth, which he thought I might not like. He says you know about it, and so I come to you first of all. Of course I’d rather his mother had been a lady born, and I do not quite like the thought of those Lyles and Nesbits. That’s the Schuyler and Rossiter of me, while the woman in me says: ‘I do not care; a man is a man for a’ that.’”
Gertie was surprised, for she too had supposed it was Julia whom Robert preferred, but she was very glad to find herself mistaken, and heartily echoed Emma’s sentiment, “A man’s a man for a’ that.”