Gertrude Cameron. A novel

Chapter I

# What a splendid day it was ! how bright, how genial, how full of all sweet murmuring sounds, whose music wandering through the balmy air, seemed to revel in their mission of soothing and enchanting human hearts, and of adding yet another spell of attraction to the green and lovely earth. I rose early, almost as soon as the morning dawned, for the thought that it was Ella's wedding day, made rest, when once I was awake, impossible. But believing the sisters to be still asleep, I remained quietly in my own room, trying to reason myself into a mood be- VOL. II. B coming the occasion, till the striking of eight o'clock warned me that I had no more time to waste in unprofitable meditation. I found Gertrude and Ella together, the latter only half dressed, and both of them crying as sisters will cry, when thev are to be for the first time separated.

Before I was able to speak a word of com fort to them, Mrs. Cameron, looking like a se cond Niobe, came in, and of course made matters a very great deal worse than they were before. It ended, in short, in our all weeping in cho rus, and forgetting that the bride had to be dressed, and the breakfast to be prepared, and our own solitary guest to be received and en tertained. This guest was Mr. Melville, who had con sented for once to leave his Lucy for a few hours, that he might act the part of father to tlie fatherless bride — the sister of his own sweet child's dearest, kindest, and most be loved friend. We all knew enough of the solitary widower to appreciate the effort he had consented to make in our favour, and yet, to our disgrace be it said, we all (except Gertrude) forgot that somebody ought to be down stairs to receive and welcome him when he should arrive.

Dear Gertrude ! she never forgot any of the kindly courtesies of life, however burdened with personal emotions her own heart might be ; so even on the present occasion, while we were all engrossed with the weeping bride, all more or less wrapped up in our own selfish sorrows and regrets, she reminded us that there was a duty to be performed, and requested me (as her mother seemed so completely over come) to undertake it. I had been so foolishly anxious to assist at Ella's toilette, that I was quite disappointed (when first this proposition was made,) at the idea of being banished to the breakfast-room. But having a very particular curiosity to know something more of Mr. Melville, (whom I had only once seen,) I became reconciled, on second thoughts, to the task assigned me, and hurried down as I heard the sound of the garden bell echoing through the house.

I had but just time to re-arrange some b flower vases on the table, and to seat myself, in solitary state, near the window, when Mr. Melville was announced. Having bestowed little notice upon him during the few minutes I was in his society before, I made up my mind to observe Him more attentively now. He was tall, rather thin, dark complexion, excessively sedate-looking, and, upon the whole, anything but a striking individual — anything but a person likely, I thought, to attract or engage a young lady's heart. " But he shall talk before I form a decided opinion about him," was the quiet observation I made to myself as I begged Mr. Melville to be seated, and began a conversation in truly orthodox style, with som,e pointed remark about the weather. If I recollect rightly, he made no answer to this — taking it for granted, I suppose, that I did not expect one — but said, as much more appropriate to the occasion, that he hoped I had not left iny young friend on his account — that he could contrive very well to amuse him self till it was time to go to church, and that he should exceedingly regret being treated as a stranger in any way.

Of course I replied to this as politeness dic tated, and then I asked about his daughter, and, by degrees, we fell into an easy strain of conversation, during which, I discovered that my companion had a mind very far above the ordinary standard, and that in spite of a natural reserve of manner, which every now and then seemed to check the expression of his real sentiments, he appeared endowed with warm and earnest feelings, and a heart alive to all the sympathies of humanity. I was, in fact, getting on very fast in my estimation of Mr. Melville, when the sudden entrance of Ella, in her bridal dress, inter rupted an agreeable tete-a-tete, and effectually diverted our attention from the grave subjects we had been discussing. After greeting Mr. Melville rather shyly, the beautiful young bride came and threw her arms round my neck, and, seeming to forget the presence of a stranger, expressed in the warmest and most loving manner her gratitude for all the kindness I had shewn her.

I was very nearly making a goose of myself again, as I felt her hot tears on my cheek, but I kissed them away, pressed her fondly in my arms, and compelled her to sit down beside me on the sofa. It struck me as rather singular, that Mr. Melville should not, now that our little scene was over, say something kind or at least com plimentary to the young lady to whom he was to act as father. In my opinion, it was impossible to conceive of anything in human shape fairer or more lovely than Ella Cameron in her bridal attire, and, still holding her hand in mine, I turned round suddenly to see if I might judge by his countenance whe ther he were indeed as insensible as he appeared. Never shall I forget that countenance. I have it vividly before me now- — the pale, pale cheeks, the white, compressed lips, the swim ming eyes, the almost agonized contraction of the brow, and the hands locked rigidly, as if in vain depreciation of the heart's utter weak ness.

It was but for a moment. Seeing himself observed, he rose hastily, walked to the win dow, and by the time Mrs. Cameron and Ger trude came in, his stern outward calmness had all returned, and he was able, not only to say many friendly things to the blushing bride, but to converse cheerfully with the mother and myself, and to deliver some affectionate message to Gertrude, from his poor, sick Lucy. Our breakfast was now hurried over, aud ten minutes' drive brought us to the village church, where Sidney with his aunt and uncle were waiting to receive us. Mr. Maxwell read the service in a very impressive manner, the bride conducted herself much better than I had expected, Sidney being by far the most nervous and agitated of the two ; the mother and aunt cried while the ceremony was being performed, and Gertrude and myself cried when it was over.

But all this was quite in the natural order of things, and is scarcely worthy of being recorded. There were only two circum stances that struck me, as in the least extraordinary, during the whole proceeding — one being the sudden apparition (as we were leaving the church) of a young lady, closely veiled, seated alone in a pew near the altar ; and the other, Mr. Melville's almost rude inattention to Gertrude, when it happened that she was de pendent upon him for some trifling courtesy that the greatest savage, or the most confirmed woman-hater, could scarcely have avoided of fering. We had decided that it would be an unne cessary expense to have a mere formal breakfast at the Priory ; so the young couple, who were to spend a week at Edgecliff, left us at the church door, and we all (except Mr. Mel ville) went on with the Maxwells to pass the renininder of the day at the Rectory.

" Your friend's father is certainly an odd man, my love," I observed to Gertrude, as soon as everything that could possibly be said about the bride and bridegroom had been said at least a hundred times over, and other subjects began to have their share of attention — " Do you know, I am not quite sure that I like him, after all." "After all what, dear Mrs. Feversham?'' asked Gertrude, with a quiet smile. " Has anybody been praising him very extravagantly in your hearing ?" " No, my love, certainly not," I replied, " but, but — " and I related my impressions of the morning. " Ah," said Gertrude, in reference to the powerful emotion he had betrayed in looking at Ella, " he was contrasting her, in her blooming youth and happy prospects, with his poor, withering Lucy. It will go hard -with Mr. Melville, I fear, whenever the blow falls, that will separate her from him for ever."

" He must be a man of very intense feelings," I said, for the purpose of eliciting Ger trude's opinion. " Perhaps so," was her cautious reply, "but at present I should imagine he felt no interest in any earthly thing besides his daughter." . " When she dies he will marry again," I continued, observing Gertrude attentively as I spoke. ■' I doubt it," she answered quickly, " he would shrink from risking all his happiness a second time, by investing it in a human affec tion. It is much more probable, that he will b become a confirmed misanthrope, and never pass beyond his own threshold." " Does Lucy think this of her father ?" " She fears it, I imagine, but we seldom now speak on the subject." After we had both remained silent for a few minutes, I said abruptly — " My dear, how is it that you and Mr. Mel ville do not appear better friends ?

He was really almost rude in his attention to you this morning." " Was he ?" replied Gertrude unconcernedly. "I am sure I did not remark it ; but then I am so accustomed to look upon Mr. Melville as different to all other people." We spoke no more of Lucy's father at that time ; but I pondered deeply on Gertrude's last observation, because I had always held the opinion, that it is far safer for a woman to regard a man as charming, fascinating, and ami able in the superlative degree, than to look upon him as " different to all other people."

Chapter II

As we sat together a few mornings after the wedding, vainly trying to cheer Mrs. Cameron — whose spirits had been sinking daily lower and lower since Ella's departure — we were all considerably fluried and astonished by the un expected announcement of Lady Willoughbv and her eldest daughter. Scarcely staying to return Mrs. Cameron's somewhat agitated greeting, the former walked up quickly to Gertrude, and taking her hand with an excessively gracious smile, though I fancied I detected a kind of haughty impatience in it too, she said abruptly — " My dear Miss Cameron, I am come as a very humble suppliant on the part of iny wilful son. He tells me you have rejected his pro posals, and that he can never know happiness without you, and that he fears he has failed to place matters before you in their proper light. and a great deal more that he can have the pleasure of repeating to you himself when I carry you with me (as I hope to have the satisfaction of doing) to Heathfield Park to dinner.

A few more words (half turning as she said this to Mrs. Cameron) will I trust bring about a right understanding between us all. On a former occasion I expressed myself anxious to put a stop to the attachment I imagined my son was forming — his father had certainly other views for him, but we are none of us ignorant of the old proverb ' L'homme propose mais Dieu dispose / so finding that opposition has had a contrary effect to the one intended, Sir Joshua and myself have come to the determi nation of letting the young man please himself. Miss Cameron is, we are quite aware, a most amiable and accomplished young lady, and I am inclined to think the more highly of her from the fact of her having rejected my son, while she entertained the slightest doubt as to the willingness of his parents to receive her as a daughter."

I do not know in what light the reader may be disposed to regard this magnanimous and condescending speech, but I know that /was by no means enchanted with it, and that I could have clapped my hands in triumph when Ger trude, with the most quiet gravity possible, replied — " Your ladyship is mistaken in supposing that Mr. Willoughby failed to convince me of your approbation of his proposals. It is per fectly true that I should not, under any circumstances, have listened to him without this approbation, but my refusal, I assure you, was entirely a matter of personal feeling, and had nothing whatever to do with any doubt of your readiness to receive me as your son's wife." Now 1 do not mean to say that Gertrude could not have given this very necessary expla nation in a more gracious and amiable manner, nor would I (in spite of the foolish satisfaction I felt at the moment) justify the spirit in which she spoke.

But you must remember that pride was her besetting sin, and, that however gentle its influences might occasionally be, there must constantly arise opportunities where in the evil promptings of this master-passion would lead to its too great and unscrupulous indulgence. I shall not easily forget the half pantomimic scene that followed Gertrude's very candid avowal. Lady Willoughby seemed far too burdened with wrathful surprise and indigna tion to be able immediately to find a voice, and her curling lip and anger-whitened cheek formed an odd contrast to Mrs. Cameron's flushed and grieved and strongly agitated countenance. While Geraldine, seated between the two, continued directing the most earnest and im ploring glances towards Gertrude, and silently brushing away the tears that from time to time came stealing from her restless eyes.

At length Lady Willoughby's vocal powers were restored to her, and rising majestically, she said — with the most freezing politeness — " I regret sincerely that I should have troubled Miss Cameron with my present fruit less visit. My son, it appears, has lacked in this instance his usual penetration ; but I will take care that he makes no further blunders in the matter. Geraldine, we shall be waited for at home." With a haughty bow to the whole party collectively, her ladyship passed out of the room, but her daughter lingering a few seconds, ran up to Gertrude, kissed her in a very friendly manner and said, with the tears rain ing now down her cheeks — " I am so very, very sorry — not only for Charles's sake — but for your sister's. Mamma will never forgive nor forget this morning's work. You should have tried to like Charles — he could have done so much for " " Geraldine, where are you ?" called the mother, in a tone there was no mistaking ; and poor Geraldine, hastily shaking hands with each of us, ran to obey the summons, and left us to guess the name that belonged te her un finished sentence.

Unfortunately Mrs. Cameron guessed it only too readily, and the departure of our visitors was followed by a scene of violent and hyste rical weeping, between the pauses of which Getrude's "extraordinary and unaccountable obstinacy," as well as her " misplaced and pre sumptuous independence of manner," was com mented upon with a bitterness that had never till now been so openly displayed. I bore it all in silence as long as I could, because I knew that my poor friend was sick in body as well as in mind ; but when I fancied that Gertrude had been tried to the very ut most, and that her resolution was beginning to waver, I seized the cudgels, and used them boldly in her defence. " Oh, of course, of course," gasped Mrs. Cameron, when I had plainly set before her the principles on which Gertrude acted — " you are all right, and I am wrong.

It must be wrong, quite wicked, I suppose, to desire to see my children provided for before I die. I am sure I wish from my heart that I had no feeling, that I was like a stock or a stone — but it does not very much signify. I shall soon be in my grave, and I dare say you will all get on far better by yourselves." Without, I verily believe, a single really bad principle in her nature, Mrs. Cameron could render herself one of the most tormenting and irritating persons in the world. In her case, physical weakness always acted in quite a re markable manner on her naturally gentle mind, and the spleen, which with others of a more passionate temperament would have exhaled itself in sudden bursts of rage, found vent with her in a continual dropping of fretful and bitter words. But the result of her present excitement seemed. to justify in some measure the gloomy prediction with which she had wound up her reply to my representations, for that very day she was laid on a bed of sickness ; and a serious and unlooked-for expense came to swell the list of our growing embarrassments.

In the midst of these troubles, Ella and Sidney returned, and established themselves, with their three pupils, in the fairy home that had been prepared for them. I sat one day in my own room alone, looking over some accounts that had been too long neglected, and sighing over the uncomfortable conviction that, in spite of all our care and economy, we were at present living beyond our scanty means, when a low tap at the door warned me to get the bills out of sight as quickly as possible, that no additional care might be added to the burden under which my poor Gertrude was already groaning. " Mrs. Feversham," she said,coming in softly when I had replied to her summons, " I hope I shall not be disturbing you, but as Ella has just arrived, and will sit for half an hour with mamma, I thought I would take the op portunity of having a little quiet talk with you, concerning our unfortunate affairs."

" My dear child, you look too ill to-day to worry yourself with these matters," I answered, as I observed with pain and grief the ravages that constant anxiety had already made in Ger trude's outward aspect. " Come and sit with me, by all means, but let us have nothing to do with dull business for once." " Nay, there would be little wisdom in shrinking from speaking of that which is ever in our thoughts. Mrs. Feversham, it is killing me to reflect that I am earning no money, not a single penny — that we are all living upon you." " Gertrude, love, this is unkind of you, in deed it is — I hoped you had quite got over that feeling of false delicacy which is pained by ac cepting some trifling assistance from a sincere and devoted friend. Believe me, my child, it is real pleasure to share my little all with you and yours.

Would that it were more, for your sakes." " Oh, Mrs. Feversham, I know all that," said Gertrude quickly, and taking my hand in her grave and earnest way — " but this does not alter facts, and I repeat to you that the thought of my own present helplessness and dependence is killing me." " Dependence, my love," I replied, " must always, to a noble spirit, be more or less painful, but our Heavenly Father often employs this rod to bend a proud heart to His will." " God knows, / should have nothing to do with pride," said Gertrude, sadly, " and yet "And yet, my dear, you are proud, and we are all proud ; and if we had the disposing of our own destinies, this fatal pride would soon lead us into utter ruin." " True, true, Mrs. Feversham, but we have something more than theories to deal with now. This illness of poor mamma's will run away with more money than we can well spare — and I feel that I must work, I must labour, for her and myself — or die."

Oh, ye daughters of luxury and wealth, dwelling at ease in the land — can you feel any sympathy with this poor girl's despair ? Ye who have never known a want that has been unsupplied, never had to move a finger for your daily bread, never even imagined one of the bitter, bitter feelings of dependence — can you sympathize with a woe like this ? Or would it be easier and more natural for you to weep over a lover's quarrel, and to dim your bright eyes over the record of an unrequited, sentimental attachment ? " My dear, dear girl," I said, " you must be patient, and remember how mercifully you have been protected and cared for hitherto. The same God who raised you up a friend in Mr. Lawson, can raise you up another whenever He sees fit to do so. Only trust in Him, Ger trude — rest upon His gracious promises, and all will yet be well."

She sighed heavily, and seemed unable to receive encouragement. Then I took up the ■21 GERTRUDE CAMERON. word of God, and read to her, with all the deep earnestness I felt, the following — " I say unto you take no thought for your life what ye shall eat, or what ye shall drink ; nor yet for your body what ye shall put on. Is not the life more than meat, and the body than raiment ? " Behold the fowls of the air, for they sow not, neither do they reap nor gather into barns, yet your Heavenly Father feedeth them. Are ye not much better than they ?" " And why take ye thought for raiment ? Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow ; they, toil not, neither do they spin : " And yet I say unto you that even Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these. " Wherefore if God so clothe the grass of the field which to-day is, and to-morrow is cast into the oven, shall he not much more clothe you, oh ye of little faith ?

" Take therefore no thought for the morrow ; for the morrow shall take thought for the things of itself. Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof." I closed the book without a single comment, and immediately after, Gertrude got up, kissed me tenderly, and went out of the room.

Chapter III

" A - letter for Miss Gertrude," exclaimed Henri, (now our only servant) interrupting the quiet tete-a-tete that Gertrude and 1 were holding a few mornings after this, at the breakfast-table. " It must be some mistake of the post man's," she said carelessly. " I have not a single correspondent except Mrs. Temple ; and the foreign letters do not arrive at this hour." Nevertheless, the inscription on the envelope was very clearly " Miss Cameron, The Priory, Lissonburn ;" and mistake or no mistake, I was decidedly of opinion that Gertrude would be justified in opening the letter. This counsel being promptly adopted, I very considerately busied myself in breaking an egg-shell into innumerable atoms, that my observation might not embarrass the reader of the mysterious epistle, in case it turned out, as I shrewdly suspected, to be a proposal of marriage from the accomplished Arthur Lorimer.

At the end of about ten minutes, and just when I had arrived at the logical conclusion that it was impossible for my egg-shell to re solve itself into minuter fragments, Gertrude looked up, and said, with very little appearance of excitement — " Would you like me to read my letter to you ?" " Very much, my dear, if you feel disposed yourself to do so," I replied. And without further loss of time she read the following : — " My dear Miss Cameron, — " My daughter Lucy has requested me to address you on a subject in which she is greatly interested. By the death of a distant relative, Lucy has just come into possession of a small fortune, and it is her earnest desire to prevail on you to relinquish your other duties and take up your abode with us. I have long been anxious to secure for my poor suffering girl a companion who would be agreeable and congenial to her, but hitherto I have lacked the means of offering an adequate remuneration for the discharge of duties that may occasionally prove irksome to the spirits, and uninter esting to the heart and mind.

" A maiden cousin of my own, advanced in years, will henceforth become a member of our household, so that, in the event of your ac ceding to Lucy's request, you would not be en tirely restricted to the companionship of a sick girl and an unsociable widower. " Trusting soon to be favoured with a reply, and with many affectionate messages of regard from Lucy, " I am, " My dear Miss Cameron, " Yours faithfully, "Raymond Melville." I will spare you the numerous ejaculations of astonishment that escaped my lips the mo ment Gertrude had concluded the reading of Mr. Melville's letter, and confine myself to that part of our subsequent conversation which vol. n. c had a direct reference to my young friend's future proceedings. " But now tell me, my dear," I said, " to what side your inclinations would lean were there no question of pecuniary necessity in the matter.

Could you, in short, anticipate with pleasure the prospect of becoming an inmate of Mr. Melville's house ?" " I think I could be happy as Lucy Mel ville's companion," replied Gertrude ; " and I suppose," she continued, with a slight smile, " that this amounts to the same thing." " Why, not precisely," I resumed, " because you are likely to see nearly as much of the father as you will of the daughter ; and if he really is an unsociable, gloomy person, with a natural distaste for women's society, I cannot think that your position would be an enviable one. " I should have no fear of annoyance from Mr. Melville," said Gertrude, with a decision of tone that somewhat astonished me. " For Lucy's sake, if not for my own, he would avoid showing any dislike towards me." " Dislike !" I exclaimed, indignantly ; " how is it possible that he could cherish such a feeling towards you, Gertrude ?

The man must be a brute if he does." " Really," she replied, with the utmost gravity, " I do not believe that Mr. Melville has ever taken the trouble, or ever will take the trouble, to ask himself whether he likes or dislikes me. Lucy is his sole thought, his sole affection ; beyond her, I imagine all women are equally indifferent to him." " Then you are willing that this proposition should be seriously discussed with Mrs. Came ron?" " Undoubtedly. And as far as I am con cerned, I shall have no hesitation in closing with it." As Gertrude was by no means given to act upon impulse, I was rather surprised that she should have come to such a very prompt deci cision concerning this offer of her friend's father ; but knowing her strong desire to be earning money in some way for her mother and herself, and how long the apparent impos sibility of doing so had been preying upon her mind, I should not have ventured to raise a c dissenting voice, even had I seen greater cause to dislike the path opened for her than I did.

Mrs. Cameron, however, was much less reasonable. She considered it quite ridiculous for Gertrude to go and bury herself alive with a disagreeable old man, and a poor, ailing, fretful girl, who would probably make a slave of her, and treat her in all respects as a de pendent. How could she ever hope to marry under such circumstances? and what, there fore, did she propose doing when these people gave her up, or Lucy died, or Mr. Melville took a second wife ? " Mamma," replied Gertrude, " it is my firm belief that Providence has opened to me this way of working for you and for myself, and consequently I feel assured that in enter ing upon it I shall be sustained and cared for, as those always are who are found in the plain path of duty. I assure you I have no fears whatever." " Well, you know best what will suit you, of course," rejoined the mother, languidly ; " but, really, there seems such an utter absence of poetry and of softness about Mr. Melville's character, that I confess the idea of living with him would be to me the most appalling thing in the world."

As this observation did not appear to call for any particular reply — the want of poetry and softness in Mr. Melville's character being entirely a matter of private opinion — we pro ceeded to the discussion of more general in terests, amongst which, Gertrude's removal to another home was spoken of as an understood thing. That same evening a letter was dispatched to the widower, and the next morning he did us the honour of calling at the Priory for the purpose of thanking Miss Cameron for her prompt compliance with Lucy's request, and to settle that part of the arrangement which related to the remuneration Gertrude was to receive for her services. I liked Mr. Melville somewhat better on this occasion than on the former one in which he had visited us. There was a frank straight forwardness about his manner of speaking, that disposed me to think well of him.