The Lamplighter Part 41

"You have never seen anything so beautiful before in your life." He did not seem to question her; he spoke as if he knew.

"It is an old story to you, I suppose," said Gertrude.

"What makes you think so?" asked he, smiling.

Gertrude was disconcerted by his look, and still more by his smile; it changed his whole face so--it made him look so handsome, and yet so melancholy. She blushed and could not reply; he saved her the trouble.

"That is hardly a fair question, is it? You probably think you have as much reason for your opinion as I had for mine. You are wrong, however; I never was here before; but I am too old a traveller to carry my enthusiasm in my eyes--as you do," added he, after a moment's pause, during which he looked her full in the face. Then seeming to perceive the embarra.s.sment which his scrutiny of her features caused, he turned away, and a shadow pa.s.sed over his fine countenance, lending it for a moment an expression of mingled bitterness and pathos, which served to disarm Gertrude's confusion.

Presently, taking a vacant chair next hers, he directed his attention to a beautiful country residence on their right, spoke of its former owner, whom he had met in a foreign land, and related some interesting anecdotes concerning a journey which they had taken together. This introduced other topics, chiefly connected with wanderings in countries almost unknown; and so rich and varied was the stranger's conversation, so graphic were his descriptions, so exuberant his imagination, and so powerful his command of words and his gift of expressing his thoughts, that his listener sat entranced with delight.

When Dr. Jeremy came in search of his young charge, conversation between her and the stranger had a.s.sumed so much ease and freedom that the doctor opened his eyes in astonishment, shrugged his shoulders, and exclaimed, "This is pretty well, I declare!"

Gertrude did not see the doctor approach, but looked up at the sound of his voice. Conscious of the surprise it must be to find her talking so familiarly with a stranger, she coloured slightly; but observing that her companion only smiled, she felt rather amused than embarra.s.sed; and she began to feel confidence in her fellow-traveller, who rose, shook hands with Dr. Jeremy, to whom he had, the previous day, been introduced, and said, with perfect composure, "Will you have the kindness, sir, to present me to this lady? We have already had some conversation together, but do not yet know by what name we may address each other."

Dr. Jeremy having performed the ceremony of introduction, Mr. Phillips bowed gracefully, and looked at Gertrude in such a benignant, fatherly way, that she hesitated not to take his offered hand. He detained hers a moment while he said, "Do not be afraid of me when we meet again;" and then walked away, and paced slowly up and down the deck until pa.s.sengers for Catskill were summoned to dinner, when he, Dr. Jeremy, and Gertrude went below. The doctor tried to rally Gertrude about her grey-headed beau, declaring that he was yet young and handsome, and that she could have his hair dyed any colour she pleased. But he could not succeed in annoying her in that way, for her interest in him, which she could not deny, was quite independent of his personal appearance.

The bustle, however, of dinner, and going on sh.o.r.e at Catskill, banished from the doctor's head all thought of everything except the safety of himself, his ladies, and their baggage.

Emily, whose nervous system was somewhat disordered, clung tremblingly to Gertrude; and Gertrude found herself, she knew not how, leaning on the arm of Mr. Phillips, to whose silent exertions they were both indebted for their safety in disembarking. Mrs. Jeremy was counting up the trunks, while her husband was loudly denouncing the steamboat, its conductors, and the whole hurrying, skurrying Yankee nation.

Two stage-coaches were waiting at the wharf to take pa.s.sengers up the mountain, and before Dr. Jeremy had turned his back upon the river, Emily and Gertrude were placed in one of them by Mr. Phillips, who, without speaking, took this office upon himself, and then went to inform the doctor of their whereabouts, and the doctor and his wife soon joined them.

CHAPTER x.x.xV.

THE ROCK OF AGES.

Before they had gained the road leading to the Mountain House, they became conscious of the vast difference between the temperature of the river and that of the inland country, and, in being suddenly deprived of the refres.h.i.+ng breeze they had enjoyed on board the boat, they fully realised the extreme heat of the weather. For the first few miles Gertrude's care was required to s.h.i.+eld Emily and herself from the rays of the burning sun; and it was a great relief when they reached the beautifully-shaded road which led up the side of the mountain. The atmosphere being clear, the gradually widening prospect was beautiful, and Gertrude's delight was such that the restraint imposed by stage-coach decorum was almost insupportable. When, therefore, the ascent became so laborious that the gentlemen alighted to relieve the weary horses, Gertrude gladly accepted Dr. Jeremy's proposal that she should accompany him on a walk of a mile or two.

Gertrude was an excellent walker, and she and the active doctor soon left the coaches far behind. At a sudden turn in the road they stopped to view the scene below, and stood enjoying the stillness and beauty of the spot, when they were startled by hearing a voice, saying, "A fine landscape, certainly!"

It came from Mr. Phillips, seated upon a moss-grown rock, against which Gertrude was leaning. His att.i.tude was easy and careless, his broad-brimmed straw hat lay on the ground, and his snow-besprinkled hair was tossed back from his high and expanded forehead. He immediately joined Dr. Jeremy and Gertrude.

"You have got the start of us, sir," said the former.

"Yes; I have walked from the village--my practice always when the roads are such that no time can be gained by riding."

As he spoke, he placed in Gertrude's hand, without looking at her, or seeming conscious what he was doing, a bouquet of rich laurel blossoms.

She would have thanked him, but his absent manner was such that it afforded her no opportunity, especially as he went on talking with the doctor, as if she had not been present.

All three resumed their walk. Mr. Phillips and Dr. Jeremy conversed in an animated manner, and Gertrude, content to be a listener, soon perceived that she was not the only person to whom the stranger had power to render himself agreeable. Dr. Jeremy engaged him upon a variety of subjects, upon all of which he appeared equally well informed; and Gertrude smiled to see her old friend rub his hands together--his mode of expressing satisfaction.

Gertrude thought their new acquaintance must be a botanist by profession, so versed was he in everything relating to that science.

Again, she was sure that geology must have been with him an absorbed study, so intimate seemed his acquaintance with mother earth; and both of these impressions were in turn dispelled when he talked of the ocean like a sailor, of the counting-house like a merchant, of Paris like a man of fas.h.i.+on and the world. In the meantime she walked beside him, silent but not unnoticed; for, as they approached a rough and steep ascent, he offered his arm, and expressed a fear lest she should become fatigued. Dr. Jeremy declared his belief that Gerty could outwalk them both; and, thus satisfied, Mr. Phillips resumed the broken thread of their discourse, into which Gertrude was drawn almost unawares.

Mr. Phillips no longer seemed in Gertrude's eyes a stranger--he was a mystery, but not a forbidding one. She longed to learn the history of a life which many an incident of his own narrating proved to have been made up of strange and mingled experience; especially did her sympathetic nature desire to fathom the cause of that deep-seated melancholy which shadowed and darkened his n.o.ble countenance, and made his very smile a sorrowful thing. Dr. Jeremy, who shared her curiosity, asked a few questions, in hopes to obtain some clue to his new friend's history; but in vain. Mr. Phillips' lips were sealed on the subject.

The doctor now felt very weary, and seating themselves by the roadside, they awaited the arrival of the coach. There had been a short silence, when the doctor, looking at Gertrude, remarked, "There will be no church for us to-morrow, Gerty."

"No church," exclaimed Gerty, gazing about her with a look of reverence; "how _can_ you say so?"

Mr. Phillips smiled, and said in a peculiar tone, "There is no Sunday here, Miss Flint; it doesn't come up so high."

He spoke lightly--too lightly, Gertrude thought--and she replied with some seriousness and much sweetness, "I have often rejoiced that the Sabbath has been sent _down_ into the _lower_ earth; the higher we go the nearer we come, I trust, to the eternal Sabbath."

Mr. Phillips bit his lip, and turned away without replying. There was an expression about his mouth which Gertrude did not like; but she could not find it in her heart to reproach him for the slight sneer which his manner, rather than his look, implied; for as he gazed a moment or two into vacancy there was in his absent countenance such a look of sorrow that she could only pity and wonder. The coaches now came up, and, as he placed her in her former seat, he resumed his wonted serene and kind expression, and she felt convinced that it was only doing justice to his frank and open face to believe that nothing was hid behind it that would not do honour to the man.

An hour brought them to the Mountain House, and to their joy they were shown to some of the most excellent rooms the hotel afforded. As Gertrude stood at the window of the chamber allotted to herself and Emily, and heard the loud murmurs of some of her fellow-travellers who were denied any tolerable accommodation, she could not but be astonished at Dr. Jeremy's unusual good fortune. Emily, being greatly fatigued with the toilsome journey, had supper brought to her own room, and Gertrude partaking of it with her, neither of them sought other society that night, but at an early hour went to rest. The last thing that Gertrude heard before falling asleep was the voice of Dr. Jeremy saying, as he pa.s.sed their door, "Take care, Gerty, and be up in time to see the sun rise."

But she was not up in time, nor was the doctor; neither of them had calculated upon the sun being such an early riser; and though Gertrude sprang up almost before her eyes were open, a flood of daylight was pouring in at the window, and a scene met her gaze which banished regret at having overslept herself, since nothing, she thought, could be more glorious than that which now lay outspread before her.

Far out to the distant horizon nothing was to be seen but a sea of snowy clouds, which wholly overshadowed the lower earth and hid it from view.

Vast, solid, and of the most perfect whiteness, they stretched on every side, forming, as they lay in thick ma.s.ses, between which not a crevice was discernible, an unbroken curtain, dividing the heavens from the earth. The foliage of the oaks, the pines, and the maples, which had found root in this lofty region, was rich in varied hues, and tame and fearless birds of various note were singing in the branches. Gertrude gave one long look, then hastened to dress herself and go out upon the platform.

She was soon joined by Dr. and Mrs. Jeremy, the former full of life, and dragging forward his reluctant, sleepy partner, whose countenance proclaimed how unwillingly she had forgone her morning nap. The doctor rubbed his hands as they joined Gertrude. "Very fine, this, Gerty! A touch beyond anything I had calculated upon," Gertrude turned upon him her beaming eyes, but did not speak.

The doctor stepped to the edge of the flat rock upon which they stood, placed his hands beneath his coat tails, and indulged in a soliloquy, made up of short exclamations and interjectional phrases, expressive of his approbation.

"Why, this looks queer, doesn't it?" said Mrs. Jeremy, rubbing her eyes, and gazing about her; "but I daresay it would be just so an hour or two hence. I don't see what the doctor would make me get up so early for." Then she darted forward, exclaiming, "Dr. Jeremy, for mercy's sake, don't stand so near the edge of that precipice! Why, are you crazy, man? You frighten me to death! You'll fall over and break your neck!"

Finding the doctor deaf to her entreaties, Mrs. Jeremy grew so disturbed by his dangerous position that, looking most imploringly at Gertrude, she begged her to get the doctor away, for the poor man was so venturesome he would surely be killed.

"Suppose we explore that little path at the right of the house,"

suggested Gertrude; "it looks attractive."

"So it does," said Mrs. Jeremy; "beautiful little shady path. Come, doctor, Gerty and I are going to walk up here--come!"

The doctor looked in the direction in which she pointed.

"Ah!" said he, "that is the path the man at the office spoke about; it leads up to the pine gardens. We'll climb up, by all means, and see what sort of a place it is."

Gertrude led the way, all walking in single file, for the path was a mere foot-track. The ascent was very steep, and they had not proceeded far before Mrs. Jeremy, panting with heat and fatigue, stopped short, and declared her inability to reach the top; she would not have come if she had known what a hard hill she would have to climb. Encouraged and a.s.sisted by her husband and Gertrude, she was induced to make a further attempt; and they had gone on some distance, when Gertrude, who was some steps in advance, heard Mrs. Jeremy give a slight scream. She looked back; the doctor was laughing heartily, but his wife, who was the picture of consternation, was trying to pa.s.s him and retrace her steps down the hill.

"What is the matter?" asked Gertrude.

"Matter!" cried Mrs. Jeremy; "why, this hill is covered with rattlesnakes; and here we are all going up to be bitten to death!"

"No such thing, Gerty!" said the doctor, still laughing. "I only told her there had been one killed here this summer, and now she's making it an excuse for turning back."

"I don't care!" said the good-natured lady, half laughing herself, in spite of her fears; "if there's been one, there may be another; and I won't stay a minute longer! I thought it was a bad enough place before, and now I am going down faster than I came up."

Finding her determined, the doctor hastened to accompany her, calling to Gertrude and a.s.suring her there was no danger, and begging her wait for him at the top of the hill, where he would join her after he left his wife in safety at the hotel. Gertrude, therefore, went on alone. For the first few yards she looked about her, and thought of rattlesnakes; but the path was so well worn that she felt sure it must be often trod, and was probably safe; and the beauty of the place engrossed all her attention. After active climbing, she reached the highest point of ground, and found herself once more on the elevated platform, from which she could look forth upon the unbroken sea of clouds.

She seated herself at the foot of an immense pine-tree, removed her bonnet, for she was warm from recent exercise; and she inhaled the refres.h.i.+ng mountain breeze. She had sat thus but a moment when a slight rustling noise startled her; she remembered the rattlesnakes, and was springing to her feet; but hearing a low sound, as of some one breathing, turned her eyes in the direction from which it came, and saw, only a few yards from her, the figure of a man stretched upon the ground, apparently asleep. She went towards it with a careful step, and before she could see the face, the large straw hat and the long, blanched, wavy hair betrayed the ident.i.ty of the individual. Mr.

Phillips was, or appeared to be, sleeping; his head was pillowed upon his arm, his eyes were closed, and his att.i.tude denoted perfect repose.

Gertrude stood still and looked at him. As she did so, his countenance suddenly changed; the peaceful expression gave place to the same unhappy look which had at first excited her sympathy. His lips moved, and in his dreams he spoke, or rather shouted, "No! no! no!" each time that he repeated the word p.r.o.nouncing it with more emphasis; then wildly throwing one arm above his head he let it fall heavily upon the ground, and, the excitement subsiding from his face, he uttered the simply words, "_Oh, dear!_" much as a grieved and tired child might do as he leans his head upon his mother's knee.