THE RECEPTION.
THE sun was unclouded and the young man soon found the heat
intolerable. He leaped the wall into a newly mown field and took a
direct line for the stone cottage, becoming every moment more visible.
At the distance of two or three hundred rods from the house was the
grove of lindens the driver had pointed out. On one side was a patch
of delicious green turf, soft and smooth as velvet, where in the shade
formed by a cluster of young spruces, lay a couple of Jersey calves,
chewing their cuds as they calmly viewed the magnificent prospect.
These creatures were so tame that they did not move when the stranger
approached and patted their heads; they only raised their meek eyes
wishfully to his face.
Approaching the front door, which stood wide open, not a sign of life
was visible about the premises. Even the stranger's loud ring brought
no one to answer his summons. Tired of waiting, he ventured into a wide
hall which the air from the river rendered deliciously cool. This hall
extended through the centre of the house uninterrupted by staircase;
and was hung with fine old pictures, and maps. A large mahogany table,
with spread leaves, and claw feet, stood near the back door which was
of glass and opened upon another plateau of grass, interspersed with
small beds of well cultivated flowers.
The table was covered with a handsome woollen cloth; and upon it stood
a silver ice pitcher on a huge salver; which also supported two silver
goblets.
Laying his bags in one of the heavy leather-covered chairs, our
traveller took a long draught of the ice water with which the pitcher
had been lately filled; and having smoothed his locks by the small
mirror set in the hat-rack made his way into an open room on the left
hand of the hall.
Here he found additional evidence of refinement and taste. On one
side of the spacious apartment was an elegantly carved book case; and
through the glass in front, rows of well bound volumes were visible.
Between the windows a long mirror descended from the roof to a marble
slab about two feet from the floor, upon which slab lay a child's hat,
tied with blue ribbons. On the marble mantel; on the tables; and every
where that they could be placed, stood vases of flowers exquisitely
arranged. The fragrance of roses, heliotrope, mignionette and other
varieties, would have been oppressive but for the air which stole in
through the Venetian blinds.
A well pleased smile played about the mouth of the stranger, as he
gazed leisurely around. "A fancy nook Ned has here," he said to
himself. "If I had another like it, and a wife to welcome me home after
the trials of the day, I'd ask nothing more of fortune."
Leaning back in the luxurious chair which held out its arms so
invitingly, he began to wonder how it happened that no one was at home.
Gradually his thoughts became more indistinct, and he slept.
His dreams were interrupted by a vision so exactly in accordance with
them, that for a moment, he supposed himself still the sport of an
illusion.
Just in front of him stood a young girl apparently not more than
fifteen years whose laughing eyes were gazing into his own, while her
sweet rosy mouth was parted in a bewitching smile.
"When did you come? How long have you been here?" exclaimed a clear,
ringing voice. "Why didn't you tell me you were growing this?"
playfully pulling his beard.
"Am I awake?" murmured Paul, trying to rouse himself, and sitting
forward in his chair; his gaze still rivetted on the beautiful vision.
"Hannah! Hannah!" called out the young girl. "Ned has come, and fallen
asleep in the parlor."
A middle aged, motherly looking woman, speedily answered the summons,
and was hurrying across the hall, when the real Ned appeared at the
door.
"Ah, Hannah!" he said cheerily. "You're in good health I see. How's
Gerty? I suppose my friend has come, as I see our valises are here."
For one moment Gertrude stood in the centre of the floor bewildered,
blushes mantling her cheeks as she realized that she had made a
mistake; then with one bound she flew into the outstretched arms of her
brother.
"Are you really Ned?" she inquired archly, having nestled her head
against his breast.
"Yes, my little sis. Am I so changed that you didn't know me?"
"I feel greatly flattered," explained Paul, coming forward with a
smile. "Miss Gertrude, as I suppose this young lady to be, did me the
honor to imagine I was her brother. I found the house deserted and fell
asleep, and could not at once shake off the idea that the laughing eyes
looking into mine and the voice, calling me Ned, did not belong to my
vision."
"It was this that deceived me," laughed Gerty pulling her brother's
curly whiskers. "I don't think you look at all alike now."
"How pleasant and cool you keep yourselves," exclaimed Edward, turning
to Hannah who had seated herself opposite him. "Is every thing
prosperous about the farm? I see you have a pair of fancy calves on the
lawn."
"Yes, and two more in the pasture. I believe the work is well advanced
for the season. I wrote you about the new man I had hired."
"Yes, and I shall want to hear all about it in the morning. My long
walk from the landing has heated me terribly."
"Your room is in order if you would like to go to it before tea. I will
have the north chamber ready in a few minutes."
"No, Hannah, stay here please," exclaimed Gertrude, "and I'll run up
and open the blinds. You know, Ned, she keeps the house in such perfect
order there is nothing else to do."
She flew up stairs almost like a bird, her voice breaking out into a
strain of warbling, which with a thought of the stranger, was instantly
checked. Seizing two tiny silver vases, filled with delicately tinted
flowers, from her own room, she carried them to the guest-chamber;
then throwing open the blinds on the north side let in the refreshing
breeze. One minute more to fill the large china pitcher with fresh
water; and then she gayly announced that the rooms were ready.
"Ned," exclaimed Paul, the instant they were alone, "confess at once
that you have been deceiving me all these years. How dared you tell me
your sister was ignorant, unformed, a Gypsy and so on? She is the most
perfect specimen of humanity that it has ever been my fortune to meet.
Then what refinement! Only think, Ned, what a home she'd make for a
man; think of her arch glances and bewitching smiles."
"She has greatly improved within a year;" was Wallingford's grave
reply, "more than I dared to hope. She is not yet sixteen. By the time
she is twenty-two or three, I believe she will resemble our mother."
Without another word he turned to his own room, leaving his companion
examining the flowers, and wondering whether Gertrude had placed them
there, before she knew of his coming.
An hour later they were seated in the hall, around the abundant board.
In the centre a huge glass dish of raspberries was well flanked by a
pitcher of cream.
"These are delicious," exclaimed Edward, helping himself and his friend
to a bountiful supply.
"Hannah and I were out picking them, when Mr. Dudley came," said
Gertrude with an arch glance in his direction. "I remembered how fond
you used to be of berries."
"We don't often see such cream at our College ordinaire," suggested
Paul, pouring the thick, new luxury over his fruit.
"If you wish to get into Miss Goldby's good graces, praise her
Alderney's," remarked Ned, laughing. "But seriously Hannah, I must
arrange somehow to board at home, when I take an office in New York."
"I thought that would be a matter of course," urged Gerty seriously.
"I've been anticipating the pleasure of driving to the landing every
afternoon to meet you."
"Ah, Wallingford! you're the luckiest fellow I know," cried his
friend with a shrug at his own fate. "Here you will be, in the midst
of luxuries, with a lady to greet you on your return from business;
with a well ordered household and an estate exactly to your taste;
while I must delve among musty old law papers twenty hours out of the
twenty-four, in order to have butter with my bread."
"There is no food tastes so sweet as that we have worked for," remarked
Hannah sagely; "but Gertrude do you notice how late it is, only ten
minutes of seven."
The young girl blushed, as she hurriedly rose from the table, and only
saying; "Good night, Ned, good night Mr. Dudley," put on the hat Paul
had seen lying on the marble slab, and went out by the front door.
Both the young men started to accompany her; but Hannah said decidedly,
"She prefers to walk alone, and Hiram will go for her at nine."
"I protest," began Paul; but Ned interrupted him by asking gravely:
"Where does she go at this hour?"
"She spends three evenings every week with a friend," was the evasive
answer. "It is a great privilege for her, and we are both grateful for
the opportunity."