THE DISAPPOINTED WOOER.
Twilight found Gertrude and Emily seated at a window which commanded a
delightful western view. Gertrude had been describing to her blind
friend the gorgeous picture presented to her vision by the masses of
brilliantly-painted cloud; and Emily, as she listened to the glowing
description, experienced a participation in Gertrude's enjoyment. The
glory had now faded away, save a long strip of gold which skirted the
horizon; and the stars as they came out, one by one, seemed to look in
at the chamber window with a smile of recognition.
In the parlour below there was company from the city, and the sound of
mirth and laughter came up on the evening breeze; so mellowed, however,
by distance, that it contrasted with the peace of the quiet room,
without disturbing it.
"You had better go down, Gertrude," said Emily; "they appear to be
enjoying themselves, and I love to hear your laugh mingling with the
rest."
"Oh, no, dear Emily!" said Gertrude; "I prefer to stay with you: they
are nearly all strangers to me."
"As you please, my dear; but don't let me keep you from the young
people."
"You can never keep me with you, dear Emily, longer than I wish to stay;
there is no society I love so well." And so she stayed, and they resumed
their pleasant conversation. They were interrupted by Katy, whom Mrs.
Graham sent to announce a new visitor--Mrs. Bruce--who had inquired for
Emily.
"I suppose I must go down," said Emily; "you'll come too, Gertrude?"
"No, I believe not, unless she asked for me. Did she, Katy?"
"Mrs. Graham was only afther mintioning Miss Emily," said Katy.
"Then I will stay here," said Gertrude; and Emily, finding it to be her
wish, went without her. There was soon another loud ring at the
door-bell. It seemed to be a reception evening, and this time Gertrude's
presence was particularly requested, to see Dr. and Mrs. Jeremy.
When she entered the parlour a great number of guests were assembled,
and every seat occupied. As she came in alone, and unexpected by most of
the company, all eyes were turned upon her. Contrary to the expectation
of Belle and Kitty, who were watching her with curiosity, she manifested
no embarrassment, but glancing leisurely at the various groups, until
she recognised Mrs. Jeremy, crossed the large saloon with characteristic
grace, and as much ease as if she were the only person present. After
greeting that lady with her usual cordiality, she turned to speak to the
doctor; but he was sitting next Fanny Bruce, in the window-seat, and was
half-concealed by the curtain. Before he came Mrs. Bruce nodded
pleasantly from the opposite corner, and Gertrude went to shake hands
with her; Mr. Bruce, who formed one in a gay circle of young ladies and
gentlemen collected in that part of the room, and who had been observing
Gertrude's motions so attentively as to make no reply to a question put
to him by Kitty Ray, now offered his chair, saying, "Miss Gertrude, do
take this seat."
"Thank you," said Gertrude, "but I see my friend the doctor on the other
side of the room; he expects me to speak to him, so don't let me disturb
you."
Dr. Jeremy now came half-way across the room to meet her, and led her
into the recess formed by the window, and placed her in his own seat
next to Fanny Bruce. To the astonishment of all who knew him, Ben Bruce
brought his own chair, and placed it for the doctor opposite to
Gertrude. So much respect for age was not anticipated from the man of
fashion.
"Is that a daughter of Mr. Graham's?" asked a young lady of Belle
Clinton, who sat next her.
"No, indeed," replied Belle; "she is a person to whom Miss Graham gave
an education, and now she lives here to read to her and be a sort of
companion; her name is Flint."
"What did you say that young lady's name was?" asked a dashing
lieutenant, addressing Isabel.
"Miss Flint."
"Flint, ah! she's a genteel-looking girl. How peculiarly she dresses her
hair!"
"Very becoming, however, to that style of face," remarked the young lady
who had first spoken. "Don't you think so?"
"I don't know," replied the lieutenant; "something becomes her; she
makes a fine appearance. Bruce," said he, as Mr. Bruce returned, after
his unusual effort of politeness, "who is that Miss Flint?--I have been
here two or three times, and I never saw her before."
"Very likely," said Mr. Bruce; "she won't always show herself. Isn't she
a fine-looking girl?"
"I haven't made up my mind yet; she's got a splendid figure; but who is
she?"
"She's a sort of adopted daughter of Mr. Graham's, I believe, a
_protegee_ of Miss Emily's."
"Ah, poor thing! An orphan?"
"Yes, I suppose so," said Ben, biting his lips.
"Pity!" said the young man; "poor thing! but she's good-looking,
particularly when she smiles; there is something very attractive about
her face."
There certainly was to Ben, for, a moment after, Kitty Ray missed him
from the room, and immediately espied him, standing on the piazza, and
leaning through the open window to talk with Gertrude, Dr. Jeremy, and
Fanny. The conversation soon became very lively; there seemed to be a
war of wits going on; the doctor, especially, laughed very loud, and
Gertrude and Fanny often joined in the merry peal. Kitty endured it as
long as she could, and then ran, joined the party, and heard what they
were having so much fun about.
But it was all an enigma to Kitty. Dr. Jeremy was talking with Mr. Bruce
concerning something which had happened many years ago; there was a
great deal about a fool's cap, with a long tassel, and taking afternoon
naps in the grass; the doctor was making queer allusions to some old
pear-tree, and traps set for thieves, and kept reminding Gertrude of
circumstances which attended their first acquaintance with each other
and with Mr. Bruce.
Kitty was beginning to feel that she had placed herself in the position
of an intruder, and began to feel embarrassed, when Gertrude touched her
arm, and making room for her next herself, motioned to her to sit down,
saying, as she did so, "Dr. Jeremy is speaking of the time when he (or
he and I, as he chooses to have it) went fruit-stealing in Mrs. Bruce's
orchard, and were unexpectedly caught by Mr. Bruce."
"You mean, my dear," interrupted the doctor, "that Mr. Bruce was
discovered by us. Why, it's my opinion he would have slept until this
time if I hadn't given him such a thorough waking up."
"My first acquaintance with you was certainly the greatest awakening of
my life," said Ben, speaking as if to the doctor, but looking meaningly
at Gertrude; "that was not the only nap it cost me. How sorry I am, Miss
Gertrude, that you've given up working in the garden, as you used to!
Pray, how does it happen?"
"Mrs. Graham has had it remodelled," replied Gertrude, "and the new
gardener neither needs nor desires my services. He has his own plans,
and it is not well to interfere with the professor of an art; I should
be sure to do mischief."
"I doubt whether his success compares with yours," said Ben. "I do not
see anything like the same quantity of flowers in the room that _you_
used to have."
"I think," said Gertrude, "that he is not as fond of cutting them as I
was. I did not care so much for the appearance of the garden as for
having plenty of flowers in the house; but with him it is the reverse."
Kitty made remark to Mr. Bruce on the subject of gardening, and
Gertrude, turning to Dr. Jeremy, continued in conversation with him,
until Mrs. Jeremy rose to go, when she said, "Dr. Jeremy, have you given
Gertrude her letter?"
"Goodness me!" exclaimed the doctor. Then feeling in his pocket, he drew
forth an evidently foreign document, the envelope literally covered with
various coloured post-office stamps. "See here, Gerty, genuine Calcutta;
no mistake!"
Gertrude took the letter, and, as she thanked the doctor, her
countenance expressed pleasure at receiving it; a pleasure, however,
somewhat tempered by sadness, for she had heard from Willie but once
since he learned the news of his mother's death, and that letter had
been such an outpouring of his vehement grief, that the sight of his
handwriting almost pained her, as she anticipated something like a
repetition of the outburst.
Mr. Bruce, who kept his eyes upon her, and expected to see her change
colour, and look disconcerted, on the letter being handed to her in the
presence of so many witnesses, was reassured by the composure with which
she took it, and held it openly in her hand, while she bade the doctor
and his wife good evening. She followed them to the door, and was
retreating to her own apartment, when she was met by Mr. Bruce, who had
noticed the movement, and now entered from the piazza in time to arrest
her steps, and ask if her letter was of such importance that she must
deny the company the pleasure of her society in order to study its
contents.
"It is from a friend of whose welfare I am anxious to hear," said
Gertrude, gravely. "Please excuse me to your mother, if she inquires for
me; and, as the rest of the guests are strangers, I shall not be missed
by them."
"Oh, Miss Gertrude," said Mr. Bruce, "it's no use coming here to see
you, you are so frequently invisible. What part of the day is the most
likely to find you disengaged?"
"Hardly any part," said Gertrude. "I am always a busy character; but
good night, Mr. Bruce--don't let me detain you from the other young
ladies;" and Gertrude ran upstairs, leaving Mr. Bruce uncertain whether
to be vexed with himself or her.
Contrary to Gerty's expectations, William Sullivan's letter proved very
soothing to the grief she had felt on his account. His spirit had been
so crushed by the death of his grandfather, and by his second and still
greater loss, that his first communication to Gertrude had alarmed her,
from its despairing tone; she had feared lest his Christian fortitude
would give way to the force of his double affliction. She was much
relieved to find that he wrote in a calmer strain; that he had taken to
heart his mother's last entreaty and prayer for a submissive disposition
on his part; and that, although deeply afflicted, he was schooling
himself to patience and resignation.
The three closely-written pages were devoted to fervent expressions of
gratitude to Gertrude for the kindness and love which had comforted the
last days of his much-regretted friends. He prayed that Heaven would
bless her, and reward her self-denying efforts, and closed with saying,
"You are all that is left to me, Gertrude. If I loved you before, my
heart is now bound to you by ties stronger than those of earth; my
hopes, my labours, my prayers, are all for you. God grant that we may
some day meet again!"
For an hour Gertrude sat lost in meditation; her thoughts went back to
her home at Uncle True's, and the days when she and Willie passed so
many happy hours in close companionship, little dreaming of the long
separation so soon to ensue. She was startled at last from her reverie
by the voices of Mrs. Graham's visitors, who were now taking leave.
Mrs. Bruce and her son lingered a little, until the carriages had left
with the guests for the city, and, as they were making their farewells
on the door-step, beneath Gertrude's window, she heard Mrs. Graham say,
"Remember, Mr. Bruce, we dine at two; and, Miss Fanny, we shall hope to
see you also."
Mr. Bruce's attentions to her had that day been marked; and the
professions of admiration he had whispered in her ear had been still
more so. Both these attentions and this admiration were unsought and
undesired; neither were they flattering to the high-minded girl, who was
superior to coquetry, and whose self-respect was wounded by the assured
manner in which Mr. Bruce made his advances. As a youth of seventeen,
she had marked him as indolent and ill-bred. Her sense of justice,
however, would have obliterated this recollection, had his character and
manner been changed on the renewal of their acquaintance, some years
after. But this was not the case, for outward polish could not cloud
Gertrude's discernment; and she perceived that his old characteristics
remained, rendered more glaring by ill-concealed vanity. As a boy, he
had stared at Gertrude from impudence, and inquired her name out of idle
curiosity; as a youthful coxcomb he had resolved to flirt with her,
because his time hung heavy on his hands. But, to his surprise, he found
the country girl quite insensible to the flattery and notice which many
a city belle had coveted; and that when he tried raillery, he usually
proved the disconcerted party.
It was something new to Mr. Bruce to find any lady thus indifferent to
his merits; and proved such an awakening to his ambition, that he
resolved to recommend himself to Gertrude, and consequently improved
every opportunity of gaining admittance to her society. But while
labouring to inspire her with a due appreciation of himself, he fell
into his own snare; for though he failed in awakening Gertrude's
interest, he could not be equally insensible to her attractions. Even
the dull intellect of Ben Bruce was capable of measuring her vast
superiority to most girls of her age; and her vivacious originality was
a contrast to the insipidity of fashionable life, which at length
completely charmed him.
His earnestness and perseverance began to annoy the object of his
admiration before he left Mr. Graham's in the autumn; and she was glad
soon after to hear that he had accompanied his mother to Washington, as
it insured her against meeting him again for months to come.
Mr. Bruce regretted losing sight of Gertrude, but amid the gaiety of
southern cities wasted his time with tolerable satisfaction. He was
reminded of her again on meeting the Graham party at New Orleans, and it
is some credit to his understanding to say, that in the comparison which
he constantly drew between her and the vain daughters of fashion, she
stood higher than ever in his estimation. He did not hesitate to tell
her so on the morning already mentioned, when, with evident
satisfaction, he had recognized and joined her; and, the increased
devotion of his words and manner, which now took a tone of truth in
which they had before been wanting, alarmed Gertrude, and led to a
serious resolve to avoid him on all possible occasions.
On the day succeeding the one of which we have been speaking, Mr. Graham
returned from the city about noon, and joined the young ladies in the
entry, unfolded his newspaper, and, handing it to Kitty, asked her to
read the news. "What shall I read?" said Kitty, taking the paper rather
unwillingly.
"The leading article, if you please."
Kitty turned the paper inside and out, looked hastily up and down its
pages, and then declared her inability to find it. Mr. Graham was
astonished, and pointed in silence to the paragraph. She began, but had
scarcely read a sentence before Mr. Graham stopped her, saying, "Don't
read so fast--I can't hear a single word!" She now drawled so
intolerably that he interrupted her again, and bade her give the paper
to her cousin.
Belle took it from the pouting Kitty, and finished the article--not,
however, without being once or twice compelled to go back and read more
intelligibly.
"Do you wish to hear anything more, sir?" asked she.
"Yes; won't you turn to the ship-news, and read me the list by the
steamer?" Belle, more fortunate than Kitty, found the place, and
commenced. "At Canton, April 30th, ship Ann Maria, Ray, _d-i-s-c-g_.
What does that mean?"
"Discharging, of course; go on."
"S-l-d--a-b-t 13th," spelt Belle, looking dreadfully puzzled all the
while.
"Stupid!" muttered Mr. Graham, almost snatching the paper out of her
hands; "not know how to read ship-news! Where's Gertrude? Where's
Gertrude Flint? She's the only girl I ever saw that did know anything.
Won't you call her, Kitty?"
Kitty went, though reluctantly, to call Gertrude, and told her for what
she was wanted. Gertrude was astonished; since the day when she had
persisted in leaving his house, Mr. Graham had never asked her to read
to him; but, obedient to the summons, she presented herself, and, taking
the seat which Belle had vacated near the door, commenced with the
ship-news, and, without asking questions, turned to various items of
intelligence, taking them in the order which she knew Mr. Graham
preferred.
The old gentleman, leaning back in his easy-chair, and resting his gouty
foot upon an ottoman opposite to him, looked amazingly satisfied; and
when Belle and Kitty had gone off to their room, he remarked, "This
seems like old times, doesn't it, Gertrude?" He closed his eyes, and
Gertrude was soon aware that he had fallen asleep. Seeing that, as he
sat, it would be impossible for her to pass without waking him, she laid
down the paper, and was preparing to draw some work from her pocket,
when she observed a shadow in the doorway, and, looking up, saw the
person whom she had yesterday resolved to avoid.
Mr. Bruce was staring in her face, with an indolent air of ease and
confidence, which she always found very offensive. He had in one hand a
bunch of roses, which he held up to her admiring gaze. "Very beautiful!"
said Gertrude, as she glanced at the little branches, covered with a
luxurious growth of moss rose-buds, both pink and white.
She spoke in a low voice, fearing to awaken Mr. Graham. Mr. Bruce, in a
whisper, remarked, as he dangled them above her head, "I thought they
were pretty when I gathered them, but they suffer from the comparison.
Miss Gertrude," and he gave a meaning look at the roses in her cheeks.
Gertrude, to whom this was a stale compliment, coming from Mr. Bruce,
took no notice of it, but, rising, advanced to make her exit by the
front-door, saying, "I will go across the piazza, Mr. Bruce, and send
the ladies word that you are here."
"O, pray, don't!" said he, putting himself in her way. "It would be
cruel; I haven't the slightest wish to see them." He so effectually
prevented her, that she was unwillingly compelled to retreat from the
door and resume her seat. As she did so, she took her work from her
pocket, her countenance in the meantime expressing vexation.
Mr. Bruce looked triumphant.
"Miss Gertrude," said he, "will you oblige me by wearing these flowers
in your hair to-day?"
"I do not wear gay flowers," replied Gertrude, without lifting her eyes
from the piece of muslin on which she was employed.
Supposing this to be on account of her mourning (for she wore a plain
black dress), he selected the white buds from the rest, and, presenting
them to her, begged that, for his sake, she would display them in
contrast with her dark silken braids.
"I am much obliged to you," said Gertrude; "I never saw more beautiful
roses, but I am not accustomed to be so much dressed, and, believe me,
you must excuse me."
"Then you won't take my flowers?"
"Certainly I will, with pleasure," said she, rising, "if you will let me
get a glass of water, and place them in the parlour, where we can all
enjoy them."
"I did not cut my flowers, and bring them here for the benefit of the
whole household," said Ben, in a half-offended tone. "If you won't wear
them, Miss Gertrude, I will offer them to somebody that will."
This, he thought, would alarm her, for his vanity was such that he
attributed her behaviour wholly to coquetry.
"I will punish her," thought he, as he tied the roses together again,
and arranged them for presentation to Kitty, who he knew would be
flattered to receive them.
"Where's Fanny to-day," asked Gertrude, anxious to divert the
conversation.
"I don't know," answered Ben, which implied that he had no idea of
talking about Fanny.
"How attentive you are to your work!" said he, at last: "your eyes
seemed nailed to it. I wish I were as attractive as that piece of
muslin!"
"I wish you were as inoffensive," thought Gertrude.
"I do not think you take much pains to entertain me," added he, "when
I've come here on purpose to see you."
"I thought you came by Mrs. Graham's invitation," said Gertrude.
"And didn't I have to court Kitty for an hour in order to get it?"
"If you obtained it by artifice," said Gertrude, smiling, "you do not
deserve to be entertained."
"It is much easier to please Kitty than you," remarked Ben.
"Kitty is very amiable and pleasant," said Gertrude.
"Yes; but I'd give more for one smile from you than----"
Gertrude now interrupted him with, "Ah! here is an old friend coming to
see us; please let me pass, Mr. Bruce?"
The gate at the end of the yard swung to as she spoke, and Ben, looking
in that direction, saw the person whom Gertrude seemed desirous to go
and meet.
"Don't be in such a hurry to leave me!" said Ben; "that little crone,
whose coming seems to give you so much satisfaction, can't get here this
half hour, at the rate she is travelling."
"She is an old friend," replied Gertrude, "I must go and welcome her."
Her countenance expressed so much earnestness that Mr. Bruce was ashamed
to persist in his incivility, and, rising, permitted her to pass. Miss
Patty Pace was over-joyed at seeing Gertrude, and commenced waving, in a
theatrical manner, a huge feather fan, her favourite mode of salutation.
As she drew near, Miss Patty took her by both hands, and stood talking
with her some minutes. They entered the house at the side door, and Ben,
thus disappointed of Gertrude's return, sallied into the garden in hopes
to attract the notice of Kitty.
Ben Bruce had such confidence in the power of wealth and a high station
in fashionable life that it never occurred to him to doubt that Gertrude
would gladly accept his hand and fortune if they were placed at her
disposal. Many a worldly-wise mother had sought his acquaintance; many a
young lady of property and rank had received his attention with favour,
and believing, as he did, that he had money enough to purchase. He
determined to win Gertrude's good opinion and affection; and although
more interested in her than he was aware of himself, he at present made
that his ultimate object. He felt conscious that as yet she had given no
evidence of his success; and having resolved to resort to some new means
of winning her, he, with a too common baseness, fixed upon a method
which was calculated, if successful, to end in the mortification, if not
the unhappiness, of a third party. He intended, by marked devotion to
Kitty Ray, to excite the jealousy of Gertrude.