MORE CHANGES.
Not until her work of love was ended did Gertrude become conscious that
her lengthened labours by night and day had worn upon her frame, and
exhausted her strength. For a week after Mrs. Sullivan was in her grave,
Dr. Jeremy feared a severe illness for Gertrude. But, after struggling
with her dangerous symptoms for several days, she rallied; and, though
still pale and worn by care and anxiety, was able to resume her school
duties, and make arrangements for another home.
Several homes had been offered to her, with a warmth and cordiality
which made it difficult to decline their acceptance; but Gertrude,
though deeply touched by the kindness thus manifested towards her in her
loneliness, preferred to seek a permanent boarding-place, and when the
grounds on which she based her decision were understood by her friends,
they approved her course.
Mrs. Jeremy at first felt hurt at Gertrude's refusal to live with them
for any length of time that she chose; and the doctor was so peremptory
with his "Come, Gertrude, come right home with us--don't say a word!"
that she was afraid lest, in her weak state of health, she should be
carried off, without a _chance_ to remonstrate. But, after he had taken
upon himself to give Jane orders about packing her clothes and sending
them after her, and then locking up the house, he gave Gertrude an
opportunity to state her reasons for wishing to decline the generous
proposal.
But all her reasoning upon general principles proved insufficient to
convince the warm-hearted couple. "It was all nonsense about independent
position. She would be perfectly independent with them, and her company
would be such a pleasure that she need feel no hesitation in accepting
their offer, and might be sure she would be conferring a favour, instead
of being the party obliged." At last she was compelled to make use of an
argument which had greatly influenced her own mind, and would, she felt
sure, carry no little weight with it in the doctor's own estimation.
"Dr. Jeremy," said she, "I hope you will not condemn in me a motive
which has strengthened my firmness in this matter. I should be unwilling
to mention it if I did not know that you are so far acquainted with the
state of affairs between Mr. Graham and myself as to understand and
sympathize with my feelings. You know that he was opposed to my leaving
them and remaining here this winter, and must suspect that, when we
parted, there was not a perfectly good understanding between us. He
hinted that I should never be able to support myself, and should be
driven to a life of dependence; and, since the salary which I receive
from Mr. W. is sufficient for all my wants, I wish to be so situated on
Mr. Graham's return that he will perceive that my assurance that I could
earn my own living was not without foundation."
"So Graham thought that, without his sustaining power, you would soon
come to beggary--did he? With your talents, too? that's just like him!"
"Oh, no, no!" replied Gertrude, "I did not say that; but I seemed to him
a mere child, and he did not realise that in giving me an education he
had paid my expenses in advance. It was very natural he should distrust
my capacity--he had never seen me compelled to exert myself."
"I understand--I understand," said the doctor. "He thought you would be
glad enough to come back to them; yes, yes, just like him!"
"Well, now," said Mrs. Jeremy, "I don't believe he thought any such
thing. He was provoked, and didn't mind what he said. Ten to one he will
never think of it again, and it seems to me it is only a kind of pride
in Gertrude to care anything about it."
"I don't know that, wife," said the doctor. "If it _is_ pride, it's an
honourable pride that I like; and I am not sure but, if I were in
Gertrude's place, I should feel just as she does; so I shan't urge her
to do any other ways than she proposes. She can have a boarding-place,
and yet spend much of her time with us."
"Yes, indeed," said Mrs. Jeremy; "and, if you feel set about it, Gerty,
dear, I am sure I shall want you to do whatever pleases you best; but
one thing I do insist on, and that is, that you leave this house, which
must look very dreary, this very day, go home with me, and stay until
you get recruited."
Gertrude, gladly consenting to a short visit, compromised the matter by
accompanying them without delay, and it was chiefly owing to the
doctor's persevering skill and care bestowed upon his young guest, and
the motherly nursing of Mrs. Jeremy, that she escaped the illness which
had threatened her.
Mr. and Mrs. W., who felt great sympathy for Gertrude, pressed her to
come to their house, and remain until the return of Mr. Graham and
Emily; but, on being assured by her that she was unaware of the period
of their absence, and should not probably reside with them for the
future, they were satisfied that she acted with wisdom and judgment in
at once providing herself with an independent situation.
Mr. and Mrs. Arnold, who had been constant in their attentions, both to
Mrs. Sullivan and Gertrude, and were the only persons, except the
physician, who had been admitted to the sick room of the invalid, felt
that they had a peculiar claim to the care of the doubly-orphaned girl,
and urged her to become a member of their household. Mr. Arnold's family
being large, and his house and salary small, true benevolence alone
prompted this proposal; and on Gertrude's acquainting his economical and
prudent wife with the ample means she enjoyed from her own exertions,
and the decision she had formed of procuring an independent home, she
received the warm approbation of both, and found in the latter an
excellent adviser and assistant.
Mrs. Arnold had a widowed sister who was in the habit of receiving, as
boarders, a few young ladies. Gertrude did not know this lady
personally, but had heard her warmly praised; and she indulged the hope
that through her friend, the minister's wife, she might obtain with her
an agreeable and not too expensive residence. In this she was not
disappointed. Mrs. Warren had fortunately vacant a large front chamber;
and, Mrs. Arnold having recommended Gertrude in the warmest manner,
suitable terms were agreed upon, and the room placed at her disposal.
Mrs. Sullivan had bequeathed to her all her furniture, and Mrs. Arnold
and her daughters insisted that, in consideration of her recent fatigue
and bereavement, she should attend only to her school duties, and leave
to them the furnishing of her room with such articles as she preferred
to have placed there, and superintended the packing away of all other
movables; for Gertrude was unwilling that anything should be sold. On
entering the dining-room the first evening after she took up her
residence at Mrs. Warren's, she expected to meet only strangers at the
tea-table, but was agreeably disappointed at the sight of Fanny Bruce,
who, left in Boston while her mother and brother were spending the
winter in travelling, had now been several weeks an inmate of Mrs.
Warren's house. Fanny was a school-girl, twelve or thirteen years of
age; a near neighbour to Gertrude, had been in the habit of seeing her
often at Mr. Graham's, and had sometimes begged flowers from her,
borrowed books, and obtained assistance in her fancy-work. She admired
Gertrude much; had hailed with delight the prospect of knowing her
better, as she hoped to do at Mrs. Warren's; and when she met the gaze
of her large, dark eyes, and saw a smile of pleasure overspread her
countenance at the sight of a familiar face, she came forward to shake
hands, and beg that Miss Flint would sit next her at the table.
Fanny Bruce was a girl of good disposition and warm heart, but she had
been much neglected by her mother, whose pride was in her son, the same
Ben of whom we have previously spoken. She had often been left behind in
some boarding-house, while her pleasure-loving mother and indolent
brother passed their time in journeying; and had not always been so
fortunately situated as she was at present.
Gertrude had not been long at Mrs. Warren's before she observed that
Fanny occupied an isolated position in the family. She was a few years
younger than her companions, three dressy misses, who could not
condescend to admit her into her clique. Although the privacy of her own
room was pleasing to Gertrude's feelings, pity for poor Fanny induced
her to invite her frequently to come and sit with her, and she often so
far forgot her own griefs as to exert herself in providing entertainment
for her young visitor, who considered it a privilege to share Gertrude's
retirement, read her books, and feel confident of her friendship. During
the stormy month of March Fanny spent almost every evening with
Gertrude; and she, who at first felt that she was making a sacrifice of
her comfort and ease by giving another constant access to her apartment,
realised the force of Uncle True's prophecy, that, in her efforts for
the happiness of others, she would at last find her own; for Fanny's
lively and amusing conversation drew Gertrude from brooding over her
sorrows.
April arrived, and still no news from Emily; Gertrude's heart ached with
longing to once more pour out her griefs on the bosom of that dear
friend, and find her consolation and support. Gertrude had written
regularly, but of late she had not known where to direct her letters;
and since Mrs. Sullivan's death there had been no communication between
her and the travellers. She was sitting at her window one evening,
thinking of those friends lost by absence and by death, when she was
summoned to see Mr. Arnold and his daughter Anne. After the usual
civilities, Miss Arnold said, "Of course you have heard the news,
Gertrude?"
"No," replied Gertrude. "I have heard nothing special."
"What!" exclaimed Mr. Arnold, "have you not heard of Mr. Graham's
marriage?"
Gertrude started up in surprise. "Do you really mean so, Mr. Arnold? Mr.
Graham married! When? To whom?"
"To the widow Holbrook, a sister-in-law of Mr. Clinton's; she has been
staying at Havanna, with a party from the north, and the Grahams met her
there."
"But, Gertrude," asked Mr. Arnold, "how does it happen you have not
heard of it? It is in all the newspapers--'Married in New Orleans, J. H.
Graham, Esq., to Mrs. Holbrook.'"
"I have not seen a newspaper for a day or two," replied Gertrude.
"And Miss Graham's blindness, I suppose, prevents her writing," said
Anne; "but I thought Mr. Graham would send wedding compliments."
Gertrude made no reply, and Miss Arnold said, "I suppose his bride
engrosses all his attention."
"Do you know anything of this Mrs. Holbrook?" asked Gertrude.
"Not much," answered Mr. Arnold. "I have seen her occasionally at Mr.
Clinton's. She is a handsome, showy woman, fond of society, I should
think."
"I have seen her very often," said Anne. "She is a coarse, noisy,
dashing person, just the one to make Miss Emily miserable."
Gertrude looked distressed, and Mr. Arnold glanced reprovingly at her.
"Anne," said he, "are you sure you speak advisedly?"
"Belle Clinton is my authority, father. I only judge from what I used to
hear her say at school about her Aunt _Bella_, as she always used to
call her."
"Did Isabel represent her aunt so unfavourably?"
"Not intentionally; she meant the greatest praise, but I never liked
anything she told us about her."
"We will not condemn her until we can decide upon acquaintance," said
Mr. Arnold; "perhaps she will prove the reverse of what you suppose."
"Can you tell me anything concerning Emily?" asked Gertrude, "and
whether Mr. Graham is soon to return?"
"Nothing," said Miss Arnold. "When did you hear from them yourself?"
Gertrude mentioned the date of the letter from Mrs. Ellis, the account
she had given of a gay party from the north, and suggested that probably
Mrs. Graham was the widow she had described.
"The same, undoubtedly," said Mr. Arnold.
Their knowledge of facts were so slight, however, that little remained
to be said concerning the marriage, and other topics of conversation
were introduced. But Gertrude found it impossible to think of any other
subject; the matter was so vitally important to Emily, that her mind
constantly recurred to it. The conversation was interrupted by the
sudden entrance of Dr. and Mrs. Jeremy. The former held in his hand a
sealed letter, directed to Gertrude, in the handwriting of Mr. Graham;
and, as he handed it to her, he rubbed his hands, and looking at Anne
Arnold, exclaimed, "Now, Miss Anne, we shall hear all about these famous
nuptials!"
Finding her visitors eager to learn the contents of her letter, Gertrude
broke the seal, and hastily perused its contents. The envelope contained
two or three pages closely written by Mrs. Ellis, and also a lengthy
note from Mr. Graham. Surprised as Gertrude was at any communication
from one who had parted from her in anger, her desire was to hear from
Emily, and she preferred the housekeeper's document as most likely to
contain the desired information. It ran as follows:--
"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."
"Why, Dr. Jeremy," interrupted his wife, "you forget Emily."
"Emily--to be sure, she's an angel, and never would impose upon anybody,
least of all her own pet; but she'll have to play second fiddle herself,
and I'm mistaken if she doesn't find it very hard to defend her rights
and maintain a comfortable position in her father's enlarged family
circle."
"So much the more need, then," said Gertrude, "that someone should be
enlisted in her interests, to ward off the approach of every annoyance."
"Do you mean, then, to put yourself in the breach?" asked the doctor.
"I mean to accept Mr. Graham's invitation," replied Gertrude, "and join
Emily at once; but I trust the harmony that seems to subsist between her
and her new connections will continue undisturbed, so that I shall have
no cause to take up arms on _her_ account, and on _my own_ I have not a
single fear."
"Then you think you shall go?" said Mrs. Jeremy.
"I do," said Gertrude; "nothing but my duty to Mrs. Sullivan and her
father led me to think of leaving Emily. That duty is at an end. I see
from Mrs. Ellis's letters that Emily is not happy; and nothing which I
can do to make her so must be neglected. Only think, Mrs. Jeremy, what a
friend she has been to me."
"I know it," said Mrs. Jeremy, "and I dare say you will enjoy the
journey, in spite of all the scarecrows the doctor sets up to frighten
you; but it does seem a sacrifice for you to leave your comforts for
such an uncertain sort of life."
"Sacrifice!" said the doctor; "it's the greatest sacrifice that ever I
heard of! It is not merely giving up a good income of her own earning,
and as pleasant a home as there is in Boston; it is relinquishing all
the independence that she has been striving after, and which she was so
anxious to maintain."
"No, doctor," said Gertrude, warmly; "nothing that I do for _Emily's_
sake can be called a sacrifice; it is my greatest pleasure."
"Gerty always finds her pleasure in doing what is right," remarked Mrs.
Jeremy.
"The thought," said Gertrude, "that our dear Emily was dependent upon a
stranger for all those little attentions that are only acceptable from
those she loves, would make me miserable; our happiness for years has
been in each other; and when one has suffered, the other has suffered
also. I _must_ go to her; I cannot think of doing otherwise."
"I wish," muttered Dr. Jeremy, "that your sacrifice would be half
appreciated. But Graham, I'll venture to say, thinks it will be the
greatest favour to take you back again. Perhaps he addressed you as a
beggar; it wouldn't be the first time he's done such a thing. I wonder
what would have induced poor Philip Amory to go back. Has he made any
apology in his letter for past unkindness?"
"I do not think he considered any to be needed," replied Gertrude.
"Then he didn't make any excuse for his ungentlemanly behaviour? I
declare it's a shame you should be exposed to any more such treatment;
but I always _did_ hear that women were self-forgetful in their
friendship, and I believe it. Gertrude makes an excellent friend. Mrs.
Jeremy, we must cultivate her regard; and sometime or other, perhaps,
make a loud call upon her services."
"And if ever you do, sir, I shall be ready to respond to it; if there is
a person in the world who owes a debt to society, it is myself. I hear
the world called cold, selfish, and unfeeling; but it has not been so to
me. I should be ungrateful if I did not cherish a spirit of universal
love; how much more so, if I did not feel bound, heart and hand, to
those dear friends who have bestowed upon me such affection as no orphan
ever found before!"
"Gertrude," said Mrs. Jeremy, "I believe that you were right in leaving
Emily when you did, and that you are right in returning to her now; and,
if your being such a good girl as you are is at all due to her, she
certainly has a great claim upon you."
"She has a claim, indeed, Mrs. Jeremy! It was Emily who first taught me
the difference between right and wrong----"
"And she is going to reap the benefit of that knowledge in you," said
the doctor, in continuation of her remark. "That's fair! But if you are
resolved to take this European tour, you will be busy enough with your
preparations. Do you think Mr. W. will be willing to give you up?"
"I hope so," said Gertrude. "I am sorry to be obliged to ask it of him,
for he has been very indulgent to me, and I have been absent from school
two weeks out of the winter already; but as it will shortly be the
summer vacation, he will, perhaps, be able to supply my place."
Mrs. Jeremy interested herself in Gertrude's arrangements, offered an
attic-room for the storage of her furniture, gave up to her a dressmaker
she had engaged for herself, and a plan was laid out, by which Gertrude
could start for New York in less than a week.
Mr. W., on being applied to, relinquished Gertrude, though deeply
regretting to lose so valuable an assistant; and after a few days
occupied in preparation, she bade farewell to the tearful Fanny Bruce,
the bustling doctor, and his kind-hearted wife, all of whom accompanied
her to the railroad station. She promised to write to the Jeremys; and
they agreed to forward her any letters that might arrive from Willie.
In less than a fortnight from the time of her departure, Mrs. Ellis
returned to Boston, and brought news of the safe conclusion of
Gertrude's journey. A letter received a week after by Mrs. Jeremy
announced that they should sail in a few days. She was, therefore,
surprised when a second epistle was put into her hands, dated the day
succeeding that on which she supposed Mr. Graham's party to have left
the country. It was as follows:--
"NEW YORK, _April 29th_.
"MY DEAR MRS. JEREMY,--As yesterday was the day on which we
expected to sail for Europe, you will be astonished to hear that we
are yet in New York, and still more so to learn that the foreign
tour is now postponed. Only two days since Mr. Graham was seized
with the gout, and the attack was so violent as to threaten his
life. Although to-day somewhat relieved, and considered by his
physician out of immediate danger, he remains a great sufferer, and
a sea-voyage is pronounced impracticable. His great anxiety is to
be at home; and, as soon as he can bear the journey, we shall
hasten to the house in D----.I enclose a note for Mrs. Ellis. It
contains various directions which Emily is desirous she should
receive; and, as we did not know how to address her, I have sent it
to you, trusting to your kindness to see it forwarded. Mrs. Graham
and her nieces, who had been anticipating much pleasure from going
abroad, are, of course, greatly disappointed. It is particularly
trying to Miss Clinton, as her father has been absent more than a
year, and she was hoping to meet him in Paris.
"It is impossible that either me or Emily should regret a journey
of which we felt only dread, and, were it not for Mr. Graham's
illness being the cause of its postponement, we should find it hard
not to realise a degree of satisfaction in the prospect of
returning to the dear old place in D----, where we hope to be
established in the course of the next month. I say _we_, for
neither Mr. Graham nor Emily will hear of my leaving them again.
"With the kindest regards to yourself, and my friend the doctor,
"I am, yours very sincerely,
"GERTRUDE FLINT."