The Lamplighter Part 43

Dr. Jeremy's approach was the signal for hearty congratulations between himself and Mr. Phillips; the doctor began to converse in his animated manner, spoke with hearty delight of the beauty and peacefulness of that bright Sabbath morning in the mountains; and Mr. Phillips, compelled to exert himself and conceal the gloom which weighed upon his mind, talked with an ease, and even playfulness, which astonished Gertrude, who walked back to the house wondering at this strange and inconsistent man.

She did not see him at breakfast, and at dinner he sat at some distance from Dr. Jeremy's party, and merely gave a graceful salutation to Gertrude as she left the dining-hall.

The Jeremys stayed two days longer at the Mountain House; the invigorating air benefited Emily, who appeared stronger than she had done for weeks past, and was able to take many a little stroll in the neighborhood of the house. Gertrude was never weary of the glorious prospect; and an excursion which she and the doctor made on foot to the cleft in the heart of the mountain, where a narrow stream leaps a distance of two hundred feet into the valley below, furnished the theme for many a descriptive reverie, of which Emily reaped a part of the enjoyment. They saw no more of their new acquaintance, who had disappeared. Dr. Jeremy inquired of their host concerning him, and learned that he left at an early hour on Monday, and took up a pedestrian course down the mountain. The doctor was disappointed, for he liked Mr. Phillips much, and had flattered himself, from some particular inquiries he had made concerning their proposed route, that he had an idea of attaching himself to their party.

"Never mind, Gertie," said he, "I daresay we shall come across him yet some time when we least expect it."

CHAPTER x.x.xVI.

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 pet.i.tioner, "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 a.s.sisted 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.

Wis.h.i.+ng 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 pa.s.sing 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 circ.u.mstance, 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, "Hus.h.!.+ hus.h.!.+ 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 pa.s.sing 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 pa.s.sed 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."