THE INVISIBLE CHARM.
From Catskill Dr. Jeremy proceeded directly to Saratoga. The place was
crowded with visitors, for the season was at its height, and the
improvident travellers having neglected to secure rooms, they had no
right to expect any accommodation.
"Where do you propose stopping?" inquired an acquaintance of the
doctor's, whom they met in the cars.
"At Congress Hall," was the reply. "It will be a quiet place for us old
folks, and more agreeable than any other house to Miss Graham, who is an
invalid."
"You are expected, I conclude?"
"Expected?--No; who should be expecting us?"
"Your landlord. If you have not engaged rooms you will fare badly, for
every hotel is crowded."
"We must take our chance then," said the doctor, with indifference; but
arriving at his destination, he found his friend's words were true.
"I don't know what we are going to do," said he, as he joined the
ladies; "they say every house is full; and, if so, we'd better take the
next train of cars and be off, for we can't sleep in the street."
"Carriage, sir?" shouted a cabman, a few steps distant, and beckoning to
the doctor, while another tapped his shoulder, and made a similar
suggestion.
"Carriage!" repeated the doctor, angrily. "What for? where would you
carry us, for mercy's sake? There isn't a garret to be had in your town,
for love or money."
"Well, sir," said the last petitioner, "the houses are pretty full just
now, to be sure, but may be you can get colonised out."
"_Colonised out!_" said the doctor, in a tone of vexation. "That's what
I think we are already; what I want is to get _in_ somewhere. Where do
you usually drive your coach?"
"To Congress Hall."
"Drive up, then, and let us get in; and, mind, if they don't take us at
Congress Hall, we shall expect you to keep us until we find
accommodation."
Mrs. Jeremy, Emily, and Gertrude were assisted into a small omnibus. The
doctor took a seat on the outside, and, the moment the vehicle stopped,
hastened to the landlord. There was not a vacant corner in the house.
Wishing to accommodate him, the office-keeper said that he might be able
before night to furnish him with one room in a house in the next street.
"One room! in the next street!" cried the doctor. "Ah, that's being
colonised out, is it? Well, sir, it won't do for me; I must have a place
to put my ladies in at once. Why, in conscience, don't you have hotels
enough for your visitors?"
"It is the height of the season, sir, and----"
"Why, Dr. Jeremy!" exclaimed the youthful voice of Netta Gryseworth, who
was passing through the hall with her grandmother. "How do you do, sir?
Are Miss Graham and Miss Flint with you? Have you come to stay?"
Before the doctor could answer her questions and pay his respects to
Madam Gryseworth, a venerable old lady whom he had known for thirty
years, the landlord of the hotel accosted him. "Dr. Jeremy?" said he.
"Excuse me, I did not know you. Dr. Jeremy, of Boston?"
"The same," said the doctor, bowing.
"Ah, we are all right, then. Your rooms are reserved, and will be made
ready in a few minutes; they were vacated two days ago, and have not
been occupied since."
"What is all this?" exclaimed the honest doctor. "I engaged no rooms."
"A friend did it for you, then, sir; a fortunate circumstance,
especially as you have ladies with you. Saratoga is very crowded at this
season; there were seven thousand strangers in the town yesterday."
The doctor thanked his unknown friend, and summoned the ladies to enjoy
their good fortune.
"Why, now, ain't we lucky?" said Mrs. Jeremy, as she glanced around the
comfortable room allotted to herself, and then she took a survey of
Emily's and Gertrude's apartment.
The doctor, having attended to the baggage, approached the door and
heard his wife's last remark, and entering with his finger on his lip,
exclaimed, in a low voice, "Hush! hush! don't say too much about it! We
are profiting by a glorious mistake on the part of our good landlord.
These rooms were engaged for somebody, that's certain, but not for us.
However, they can't do no more than turn us out when the right folks
come, and until then we have a prospect of very good lodgings."
But if they were not the right folks, the right folks never came, and,
in the course of a week, our party not only ceased to be conscious of
their precarious footing in the house, but obtained a favourable
exchange for Emily to a bed-room upon the first floor, which opened
directly into the drawing-room, and saved her from passing up and down
the often crowded staircases.
It was nearly tea-time on the day of their arrival, and Emily and
Gertrude had just completed their toilet, when there was a light rap
upon their door. Gertrude opened it, and admitted Ellen Gryseworth, who,
while she saluted her with southern warmth of manner, hesitated, saying,
"I am afraid you will think me an intruder, but Netta told me you had
arrived, and hearing from the chamber-maid that you had the next room to
mine, I could not forbear stopping a moment as I passed to tell you how
very glad I am to see you again."
Gertrude and Emily expressed their pleasure at the meeting, urged her to
come in and remain until the gong sounded for tea. She accepted the
invitation, and, taking a seat upon the nearest trunk, inquired
concerning their travels and Emily's health since they parted at West
Point.
Among other adventures, Gertrude mentioned their having again
encountered Mr. Phillips. "Indeed!" said Miss Gryseworth; "he seems to
be an ubiquitous individual. He was in Saratoga a day or two ago, and
sat opposite to me at our dinner-table, but I have not seen him since.
Did you become acquainted with him, Miss Graham?"
"I am sorry to say I did not," replied Emily; then, looking smilingly at
Gertrude, she added, "Gerty was so anxious for an opportunity to
introduce me that I was quite grieved for her disappointment."
"Then you liked him?" Miss Gryseworth asked Gertrude, and speaking with
great earnestness. "I knew you would."
"He interested me much," replied Gertrude. "He is very agreeable, very
peculiar, and to me rather incomprehensible."
"Non-committal, I see," said Miss Gryseworth, archly. "I hope you will
have a chance to make up your mind; it is more than I can do, I confess,
for every time I am in his company I recognise some new trait of
character. He got so angry at one of the waiters the day he dined with
us in New York, that I was frightened. But I believe my fears were
groundless, for he is too much of a gentleman to bandy words with an
inferior, and though his eyes flashed like coals of fire, he kept his
temper from blazing forth. I will do him the justice to say that this
great indignation did not spring from any neglect he had himself
received, but from the man's inattention to two dowdy-looking women from
the country, who had never thought of seeing him, and therefore got
nothing to eat until everybody else had finished, and looked all the
time as disappointed as if they were just out of the State Prison."
"Too bad!" exclaimed Gertrude, energetically. "I don't wonder Mr.
Phillips felt provoked with the mercenary fellow. I like him for that."
"It _was_ too bad," said Miss Gryseworth; "I couldn't help pitying them
myself. One of them--a young girl, fresh from the churn, who had worn
her best white gown on purpose to make a figure in the city--was near
weeping."
"I hope such instances of neglect are not very common," said Gertrude.
"I am afraid, if they are, Emily and I shall be on the crying list, for
Dr. Jeremy will not fee the waiters beforehand; he says it is a mean
thing, and he will not command attention in that way."
"Oh, you need have no such fear," said Miss Gryseworth. "Persons
accustomed to hotel life can always command attention, especially in so
well-regulated an establishment as this. Grandmamma shares the doctor's
views with regard to bargaining for it beforehand, but no one ever sees
her neglected here."
Another light tap at the door, and this time it was Netta Gryseworth who
entered, exclaiming, "I hear Ellen's voice, so I must come in. I am
provoked," added she, as she kissed Emily's hand, and shook Gertrude's
with a freedom which seemed to spring from girlish hoydenism and
high-bred independence of manner, "to think that while I have been
watching about the drawing-room doors for this last half-hour, so as to
see you the first minute you came in, Ellen has been sitting here on a
trunk, as sociable as all the world, enjoying your society, and telling
you every bit of the news."
"Not every bit, Netta," said Ellen; "I have left several choice little
morsels for you."
"Have you told Miss Flint about the Foxes and the Coxes that were here
yesterday?--Has she, Miss Flint?"
"Not a word about them," said Gertrude.
"Nor about the fright we had on board the steamboat?"
"No."
"Nor about Mr. Phillips being here?"
"Oh, yes, she told us that."
"Ah, she did!" exclaimed Netta, with an arch look which called up her
sister's blushes. "And did she tell you how he occupied this room, and
how we heard him through the thin partition pacing up and down all
night, and how it kept me from sleeping, and gave me a terrible headache
all the next day?"
"No, she did not tell me that," said Gertrude.
"You don't either of you walk all night, do you?" asked Netta.
"Not often."
"Oh, how thankful we ought to be to have you for neighbours!" replied
Netta. "If that horrible man had stayed here and kept up that measured
tread, there would have been a suicide either in this room or ours
before many nights."
"Do you think he was ill?" asked Gertrude.
"No, indeed," said Ellen; "it was nothing very remarkable--not for him,
at least--all his habits are peculiar; but it kept Netta awake an hour
or two, and made her fidgety."
"An hour or two, Ellen!" cried Netta. "It was the whole night."
"My dear sister," said Ellen, "you don't know what a whole night is."
A little sisterly discussion might have ensued about the length of Mr.
Phillips' walk and Netta's consequent wakefulness, but, fortunately, the
gong sounded for tea.
Saratoga is a queer place. One sees congregated there, at the height of
the season, delegates from every part of the world. Fashion's ladder is
transplanted thither, and all its rounds are filled. Beauty, wealth,
pride, and folly are well represented; also wit, genius, and learning.
Idleness reigns supreme, and no one, not even the most active and
industrious citizens of our working land, dares, in this her legitimate
province, to dispute her temporary sway. Every rank of society, every
profession, and almost every trade, meet each other on an easy and
friendly footing. The acknowledged belle, the bearer of an aristocratic
name, the owner of a well-filled purse, the renowned scholar, artist, or
poet, have all a conspicuous sphere to shine in.
It was a new experience to Gertrude, and although in the Congress Hall
she saw only the reflection of Saratoga gaiety, and heard only the echo
of its distant hum, there was enough of novelty and excitement to
entertain and surprise one who was a novice in fashionable life. In the
circle of high-bred, polished, literary, and talented persons whom Madam
Gryseworth drew about her, and into which Dr. Jeremy's party were
admitted, Gertrude found much that was congenial to her cultivated
taste, and she soon was appreciated as she deserved. Madam Gryseworth
was a lady of the old school--one who had all her life been accustomed
to the best society, and who continued, in spite of her advanced years,
to enjoy and to adorn it. For the first day or two Mrs. Jeremy stood
much in awe of her, and could not feel quite at ease in her presence;
but this feeling wore off, and the stout little doctor's lady soon
became confiding and chatty towards the august dame.
One evening, when the Jeremys had been a week at Saratoga, as Emily and
Gertrude were leaving the tea-table, they were joined by Netta
Gryseworth, who, linking her arm in Gertrude's, exclaimed, in her usual
gay manner, "Gertrude, I shall quarrel with you soon!"
"Indeed!" said Gertrude; "on what grounds?"
"Jealousy."
Gertrude blushed slightly.
"Oh, you needn't turn so red; it is not on account of any grey-headed
gentleman staring at you all dinner-time from the other end of the
table. No; I'm indifferent on that score. Ellen and you may disagree
about Mr. Phillips' attentions, but I'm jealous of those of another
person."
"I hope Gertrude isn't interfering with your happiness in any way," said
Emily, smiling.
"She is, though," replied Netta. "My happiness, my pride, my comfort;
she is undermining them all. She would not dare to so conduct herself,
Miss Graham, if you could see her behaviour."
"Tell me all about it," said Emily, coaxingly, "and I will promise to
interest myself for you."
"I doubt that," answered Netta; "I am not sure but you are a coadjutor
with her. However, I will state my grievance. Do you not see how
entirely she engrosses the attention of an important personage? Are you
not aware that Peter has ceased to have eyes for anyone else? For my own
part, I can get nothing to eat or drink until Miss Flint is served, and
I'm determined to ask papa to change our seats at the table. It isn't
that I care about my food; but I feel insulted--my pride is essentially
wounded. A few days ago I was a great favourite with Peter, and all my
pet dishes were sure to be placed in front of me; but now the tune is
changed, and this very evening I saw him pass Gertrude the blackberries,
which the creature knows I delight in, while he pushed a dish of blues
towards me in a contemptuous manner, which seemed to imply,
'Blueberries are good enough for _you_, miss!'"
"I have noticed that the waiters are very attentive to us," said Emily;
"do you suppose Gertrude has been secretly bribing them?"
"She says not," replied Netta. "Didn't you tell me so yesterday,
Gertrude, when I was drawing a similar comparison between their devotion
to you and to our party? Didn't you tell me that neither the doctor nor
any of you ever gave Peter anything?"
"Certainly," answered Gertrude; "his attentions are all voluntary; but I
attribute them entirely to Emily's influence and his desire to serve
her."
"It is no such thing," said Netta; "it's sorcery, I'm sure of it; you've
been practising the black art, Gertrude, and I'll warn Peter this very
day."
They now went to the corner of the drawing-room where the old ladies of
Gryseworth and Jeremy were sitting upon a sofa, engaged in earnest
conversation, while Ellen, who had just returned from a drive with her
father, stood talking with him and a Mr. Petrancourt, who had just
arrived from New York.
The ladies on the sofa made room for Emily, and Netta and Gertrude
seated themselves. Madame Gryseworth was annoyed by a group of children
on the other side of the room, who by their shouts interrupted her
remarks, and prevented her understanding those of her neighbour.
Gertrude's attention was attracted by them to such a degree that she did
not hear half of the sallies of wit and nonsense which Netta continued
to pour forth.
"Do go and play with those children, Gertrude," said Netta at last; "I
know you're longing to go."
"I'm longing to stop their play!" said Gertrude.
Some half-dozen gaily-dressed children had collected around a strange
little new-comer, whom they were subjecting to every species of
persecution. Her clothes, though of rich materials, were mostly untidily
arranged, and soiled by travelling. Her little black silk frock (for the
child was clad in mourning) was quite outgrown, being much shorter than
some of her other garments, and her whole appearance denoted great
neglect. Gertrude saw the little girl standing in their midst, looking
wildly about her, as if to escape; but this the children prevented, and
continued to ply her with questions, each of which called forth their
derisive shouts, which made her cry. Whether the scene reminded Gertrude
of some of her own experiences, or merely touched the chord of sympathy
for the injured, she could not keep her eyes from the little party; and
just as Netta was upon one of her favourite topics--namely, Mr. Phillips
and his unaccountable conduct--she sprang from her seat, exclaiming,
"They shan't torment that child so!" and hastily crossed the room.
Netta burst into a hearty laugh at Gertrude's excited manner of starting
on her benevolent errand; and this, together with her so hastily
crossing the large and crowded room, drew the inquiries of all the
circle whom she had left, and during her absence she became the subject
of discussion and remark.
"What is the matter, Netta?" asked Madame Gryseworth. "Where has
Gertrude gone?"
"To offer herself as a champion, grandmamma, for that little rowdy-dowdy
looking child."
"Is she the one who has been making all this noise?"
"No, indeed; but I believe she is the cause of it."
"It isn't every girl," said Ellen, "who could cross a room like this so
gracefully as Gertrude can."
"She has a remarkably good figure," said Madame Gryseworth, "and knows
how to walk."
"She is a very well-formed girl," remarked Dr. Gryseworth, "but the true
secret of her looking so completely the lady lies in her having uncommon
dignity of character, being wholly unconscious of observation and
independent of the wish to attract it. She dresses well, too; Ellen, I
wish you would imitate Miss Flint's style of dress; nothing could be in
better taste."
"Or a greater saving to your purse, papa," whispered Netta. "Gertrude
dresses very simply."
"Miss Flint's style of dress would not become Miss Gryseworth," said
Mrs. Petrancourt, who approached in time to hear the doctor's remark.
"Your daughter, sir, is a noble, showy-looking girl, and can carry off a
great deal of dress."
"So can a milliner's doll, Mrs. Petrancourt. However, I suppose, in a
certain sense, you are right. The two girls are not sufficiently alike
to resemble each other, if their dresses were matched with Chinese
exactness."
"Resemble each other! You surely would not wish to see your beautiful
daughter the counterpart of one who has not half her attractions."
"Are you much acquainted with Miss Flint?"
"Not at all; but Netta pointed her out to me at the tea-table as being a
particular friend."
"Then you must excuse me, ma'am, if I remark that it is impossible you
should have any idea of her attractions, as they do not lie on the
surface."
"You confess, then, that you do not think her handsome, sir?"
"To tell you the truth, I never thought anything about it. Ask
Petrancourt; he is an acknowledged judge;" and the doctor bowed in a
flattering manner to the lady who had been the belle of the season at
the time her husband paid his addresses to her.
"I will, when I can get a chance; but he is standing too near the blind
lady--Miss Flint's aunt, is she not?"
"Particular friend; not her aunt."
This conversation had been carried on in a low voice, that Emily might
not hear it. Others, however, were either more careless or more
indifferent to her presence; for Madam Gryseworth began to speak of
Gertrude without restraint, and she was at this moment saying, "One must
see her under peculiar circumstances to be struck with her beauty at
once; for instance, as I did yesterday, when she had just returned from
riding, and her face was in a glow from exercise and excitement; or as
she looks when animated by her intense interest in some glowing and
eloquent speaker, or when her feelings are suddenly touched and the
tears start into her eyes, and her whole soul shines out through them!"
"Why, grandmamma," cries Netta, "you are really eloquent!"
"So is Gertrude, at such times as those I speak of. Oh, she is a girl
after my own heart!"
"She must be a very agreeable young lady, from your account," said Mr.
Petrancourt. "We must know her."
"You will not find her of the same stamp as most of the agreeable young
ladies whom you meet in gay circles. I must tell you what Horace Willard
said of her. He is an accomplished man and a scholar--his opinion is
worth something. He had been staying a fortnight at the United States
Hotel, and used to call occasionally to see us. The day he left he came
to me and said--'Where is Miss Flint? I must have one more refreshing
conversation with her before I go. It is a perfect rest to be in that
young lady's society, for she never seems to be making the least effort
to talk with me, or to expect any attempt on my part; she is one of a
few girls who never speak unless they have something to say.' How she
has contrived to quiet those children!"
Mr. Petrancourt followed the direction of Madame Gryseworth's eyes. "Is
that the young lady you were speaking of?" asked he. "The one with great
dark eyes, and such a splendid head of hair? I have been noticing her
for some time."
"Yes, that is she, talking to the little girl in black."
"Madame Gryseworth," said Dr. Jeremy, through the long, open window, and
stepping inside as he spoke, "I see you appreciate our Gerty; I did not
say too much in praise of her good sense, did I?"
"Not half enough, doctor; she is a very bright girl, and a very good
one, I believe."
"Good!" exclaimed the doctor; "I didn't know that goodness counted in
these places; but if goodness is worth speaking of, I should like to
tell you a little of what I know of that girl;" and, without going
closely into particulars, he commenced dilating enthusiastically upon
Gertrude's noble and disinterested conduct under trying circumstances,
and had recounted, in a touching manner, her devotion to one old
paralytic--to another infirm and ill-tempered old man and his
slowly-declining daughter--and would have proceeded to speak of her
recent self-sacrificing labours in Emily's service; but Miss Graham
touched his arm, spoke in a low voice, and interrupted him.
He stopped abruptly. "Emily, my dear," said he, "I beg your pardon; I
didn't know you were here; but what you say is very true. Gertrude is a
private character, and I have no right to bring her before the public. I
am an old fool, certainly; but there, we are all friends." And he looked
around the circle a little anxiously, casting a slightly suspicious
glance at the Petrancourts, and finally rested his gaze upon a figure
behind Ellen Gryseworth. The latter turned, not having been previously
aware that any stranger was near, and, to her surprise, found herself
face to face with Mr. Phillips! "Good evening, sir," said she, on
recognising him; but he did not seem to hear her. Madam Gryseworth, who
had never seen him before, looked up inquiringly.
"Mr. Phillips," said Ellen, "shall I make you acquainted with Mrs.
Gryseworth, my----" But before she could complete the introduction he
had darted through the window, and was walking across the piazza with
hasty strides.