International Short Stories: American Part 45

"Ha! the card will tell us who he is," said d.i.c.k, picking it up. He instantly burst into a roar of laughter. "Ha! ha! This comes of wearing a Bloomer, Bertha! Though I must say it's by no means complimentary to your little feet. Who'd suspect _you_ of having corns?"

"d.i.c.k, what _do_ you mean?"

"Ha! ha! no doubt I came at the nick of time to prevent him from pulling off your shoes."

"d.i.c.k!"

Therewith she impatiently jerked the card from her brother's hand. It was large, thick, handsomely glazed, and contained the following inscription:

PROFESSOR HURLBUT, Chiropodist To her Majesty Queen Victoria, and the n.o.bility of Great Britain.

"Incredible!" she exclaimed. "So young, and embarra.s.sed in his manners; how could he ever have taken hold of the Queen's foot?"

"Embarra.s.sed indeed!" said d.i.c.k. "I think he has a very cool way of procuring patients. But, faith, he's chosen a romantic operating-room.

After climbing down these rocks the corns naturally begin to twinge, and here's the Professor on hand. Behold the march of civilization!"

Bertha did not fall into her brother's vein of badinage, as usual. She was vexed that the fresh, manly face and blue eyes into which she had looked belonged to a charlatan, and vexed at herself for being vexed thereat. It was not so easy, however, to dismiss Professor Hurlbut from her mind, for d.i.c.k had related the incident to the others of the party, with his own embellishments, and numberless were the jokes to which it gave rise throughout the day.

Meantime Mr. Bartlett, in happy ignorance of the worst blunder he had ever made, returned to the hotel. The day previous, at Utica, he had been annoyed by an itinerant extractor of corns, suppressor of bunions, and regulator of irregular nails, whose proffered card he had put into his pocket in order to get rid of the man. It was this card which he had presented to Miss Morris as his own. On reaching the hotel he easily ascertained her real name and place of residence, with the additional fact that the party were to leave for Saratoga on the morrow. It occurred to him also that Saratoga, in the height of the season, would be well worth a visit.

In the evening he again happened to meet the lady on the stairs. He retreated into a corner of the landing, to make room for her ample skirts, and, catching a glance of curious interest for her hazel eyes, ventured to say: "Good-evening, Miss Law-ris!" suddenly correcting her name in the middle. Bertha, in spite of the womanly dignity which she could very well summon to her aid, could not suppress a fragment of gay laughter, in which the supposed Professor joined. A slight inclination of the lovely head acknowledged his salutation.

The next morning Miss Bertha Morris left, with her party, for Saratoga; and after allowing a day to intervene, in order to avoid the appearance of design, Mr. Henry Bartlett followed. He did not admit to himself in the least that this movement was prompted by love; but he was aware of an intense desire to make her acquaintance. The earnestness which this desire infused into his nature gave him courage; the man within him was beginning to wake and stir; and a boyhood of character, prolonged beyond the usual date, was dropping rapidly into the irrecoverable conditions of the past.

It chanced that they both took quarters in the same hotel; and great was Bertha's astonishment; on her first morning visit to the Congress Spring, to find Professor Hurlbut quietly quaffing his third gla.s.s. He looked so much like a gentleman; he was really so fresh and rosy, so genuinely masculine in comparison with the blase youths she was accustomed to see, that, forgetting his occupation, she acknowledged his bow with a cordiality which provoked herself the moment afterward.

Mr. Bartlett was so much encouraged by this recognition that he ventured to walk beside her on their return to the hotel. She, having in the impulsive frankness and forgetfulness of her nature returned his greeting, felt bound to suffer the temporary companions.h.i.+p, embarra.s.sing though it was. Fortunately none of her friends were in sight, nor was it probable that they knew the chiropodist in any case.

She would be rid of him at the hotel door, and would take good care to avoid him in the future.

"How delightful it is here!" said Mr. Bartlett, thinking more of his present position than of Saratoga in general.

An inclination of the head was her only reply.

"This is my first visit," he added; "and I can not conceive of a summer society gayer or more inspiring."

"I have no doubt you will find it a very favorable place for your business," said Bertha, maliciously recalling him to his occupation, as she thought.

"Oh, I hope so!" exclaimed the innocent Bartlett. For was not his only business in Saratoga the endeavour to make her acquaintance? And was he not already in a fair way to be successful?

"Disgusting!" thought Bertha, as she suddenly turned and sprang up the steps in front of the ladies' drawing-room. "He thinks of nothing but his horrid corn-plaster, or whatever it is! I really believe he suspects that I need his services. That such a man should be so brazen a charlatan--it is monstrous!"

Such thoughts were not an auspicious commencement for the day, and Bertha's friends remarked that she was not in her sunniest mood. She was very careful, however, not to speak of her meeting with the chiropodist; there would have been no end to her brother's banter. She was also vexed that she could not forget his honest blue eyes, and the full, splendid curves of his mouth. Indignation, she supposed, was her predominant emotion; but, in reality, there was a strong under-feeling of admiration, had she been aware of it.

After dinner Mr. Bartlett, occupying the post of observation at his window (room No. 1346, seventh story), saw the Morris party--Bertha among them--enter a carriage and drive away in the direction of the Lake. Half an hour later, properly attired, he mounted a handsome roan at the door of a livery-stable, and set off in the same direction. He was an accomplished rider, his legs being somewhat shorter than was required by due proportion, owing to which circ.u.mstance he appeared taller on horseback than afoot. Like all hors.e.m.e.n, he was thoroughly self-possessed when in the saddle; and could he but have ridden into drawing-rooms and dining-rooms, would have felt no trace of his customary timidity.

Bertha noticed his figure afar off, approaching the carriage on a rapid trot, but made no remark. d.i.c.k, who had a quick eye for good points both in man and beast, exclaimed, "By Jove! there's a fine pair of them! Look at the action of that roan! See how the fellow rises at the right moment without leaving his saddle! no jumping or b.u.mping there!" Mr. Bartlett came on at a staving pace, lifting his hat to the ladies with perfect grace as he pa.s.sed. He would have blushed could he have felt a single ripple of the wave of admiration which flowed after him. Bertha alone was silent, more than ever provoked and disgusted that such a gallant outward embodiment of manhood should be connected with such disagreeable a.s.sociations! Had he been any thing but a chiropodist! A singular feeling of shame, for his sake, prevented her from betraying his personality to her friends; and it came to pa.s.s that they innocently defended the very charlatan whom they had so ridiculed in the glen at Trenton from her half-disparaging observations.

After all, she thought, the man may be honest in his profession, which he may look upon as simply that of a physician. A pain in the toe is probably as troublesome as a pain in the head; and why should not one be cured as well as the other? A dentist, I am sure, is a very respectable person; and, for my part, I would as soon operate on a corny toe as a carious tooth. [I would not have you suppose, ladies, that Miss Morris made use of such horrid expressions in her conversation: I am only putting her thoughts into my own words.]

Still, the conclusion to which she invariably arrived was, "I wish he were any thing else!"

That evening there was a hop at the hotel. The Morrises were enthusiastic dancers--even the widow, Bertha's mother, not disdaining a quadrille. Mr. Bartlett, in an elegant evening dress, his eyes sparkling with new light, was there also. In the course of the day he had encountered a Boston cousin, Miss Jane Heath, a tall, das.h.i.+ng girl, some two or three years older than himself. She was one of the few women with whom he felt entirely at ease. There was an honest, cousinly affection between them; and he always felt relieved, in society, when supported by her presence.

"Now, Harry," said Jane, as they entered the room, "remember, the first schottisch belongs to me. After that, I'll prove my disinterestedness by finding you partners."

As he led her upon the floor his eyes dropped in encountering those of Bertha Morris, whose floating tulle was just settling itself to rest as she whirled out of the ranks. Poor Bertha! had she been alone she could have cried. He danced as well as he rode--the splendid, mean fellow! the handsome, horrid--chiropodist! Well, it was all outward varnish, no doubt. If it was true that he had relieved the n.o.bility of Great Britain of their corns, he must have acquired something of the elegances of their society. But such ease and grace in dancing could not be picked up by mere imitation--it was a born gift. Even her brother d.i.c.k, who was looked upon as the highest result of fas.h.i.+onable education in such matters, was not surer or lighter of foot.

An hour later Bertha, who had withdrawn from the dancers and was refres.h.i.+ng herself with the mild night air at an open window, found herself temporarily separated from her friends. Mr. Bartlett had evidently been watching for such an opportunity, for he presently disengaged himself from the crowd and approached her.

"You are fond of dancing, Miss Morris?" said he.

"Ye-es," she answered, hesitatingly, divided between her determination to repel his effrontery and her inability to do so. She turned partly away, and gazed steadily into the moons.h.i.+ne.

Mr. Bartlett, however, was not to be discouraged. "Still, even the most agreeable exercise will fatigue at last," he remarked.

"Oh," said Bertha, rather sharply, suspecting a professional meaning in his words, "my feet are perfectly sound, I a.s.sure you, Sir!"

It is not to be denied that he was a little surprised at the earnestness of an a.s.sertion which, in a playful tone, would not have seemed out of place. "I think you proved that at Trenton Falls," he rejoined; "but will you grant me the pleasure of another test during the next quadrille?"

"No further test is necessary, Sir. I presume you have patients enough already!" And having uttered these words as coolly as her indignation allowed, Bertha moved away from the window.

"Patience?" said Mr. Bartlett to himself, wholly misapprehending her meaning; "yes, I shall have patience while there is a chance to hope.

But why did she speak of patience? Women, I have heard, are natural diplomatists, and have a thousand indirect ways of saying things which they do not wish to speak outright. Could she mean to test the sincerity of my wish to know her. It is not to be expected that a stranger, so awkwardly introduced, should be received without hesitation--mistrust, perhaps. No, no, I must persevere; she would despise me if I did not understand her meaning."

The following days were cold and rainy. There was an end of the gay out-door life which offered him so many chances of meeting Miss Morris, and the fleeting glimpses he caught of her in the great dining-hall or the pa.s.sage leading to the ladies' parlor were simply tantalizing. I have no doubt there was a mute appeal in his eyes which must have troubled the young lady's conscience; for she avoided meeting his gaze.

The knowledge of his presence made her uneasy; there was an atmosphere about the hotel which she would willingly have escaped. She walked with the consciousness of an eye every where following her, and, in spite of herself, furtively sought for it. We, who are aware of her mystification, may be amused at it; but imagine yourselves in the same situation, ladies, and you will appreciate its horrors!

No, this was not longer to be endured, and so, after five or six days at Saratoga, the party suddenly left for Niagara. Bertha, an only daughter, was a petted child, and might have had her own way much oftener than was really the case. The princ.i.p.al use she made of her privilege was to follow the bent of a remarkably free, joyous, and confiding nature. She was just unconventional enough to preserve an individuality, and thereby distinguish herself from thousands of girls who seem to have been cut out by a single pattern. The sphere within which true womanhood moves is much wider than most women suspect. To the frank, honest, and pure nature, what are called "the bounds of propriety" are its natural horizon-ring, moving with it, and inclosing it every where without restraining its freedom.

We shall not be surprised to find that shortly after Miss Morris's departure Room No. 1346 in the Catanational Hotel had another tenant.

Mr. Bartlett followed, as a matter of course. He began nevertheless, to feel very much like a fool, and--as he afterward confessed--spent most of the time between Utica and the Suspension Bridge in deliberating whether he should seek or avoid an interview. As if such discussions with one's self ever amounted to any thing!

Ascertaining the lady's presence, he decided to devote his first day to Niagara, trusting the rest to chance. In fact, he could not have done a more sensible thing, for there is a Special Chance appointed for such cases. The forenoon was not over before he experienced its operations.

Bertha, cloaked and cowled in India-rubber, stood on the hurricane deck of the "Maid of the Mist," as the venturesome little steamer approached the corner of the Horse-Shoe Fall. Looking up through blinding spray at the s.h.i.+mmer of emerald and dazzling silver against the sky, she crept near a broad-shouldered figure to shelter herself from the stormy gusts of the Fall. Suddenly the boat wheeled, at the very edge of the tremendous sheet, and swirled away from the vortex with a heave which threw her off her feet. She did not fall, however; for strong arms caught her waist and steadied her until the motion subsided.

Through the rush of the spray and the roar of the Fall she indistinctly heard a voice apologizing for the unceremonious way in which the arms had seized her. She did not speak---fearful, in fact, of having her mouth filled with water--but frankly gave the gentleman her hand. The monkish figure bowed low over the wet fingers, and respectfully withdrew. As the mist cleared away she encountered familiar eyes. Was it possible? The Chiropodist!

This discovery gave Bertha no little uneasiness. A subtle instinct told her that he had followed on her account, in spite of her cornless feet. Perhaps he had left a lucrative practice at Saratoga--and why?

There was but one answer to the question, and she blushed painfully as she admitted its possibility. What was to be done? She would tell her brother; but no--young men are so rash and violent. Avoid him? That was difficult and embarra.s.sing. Ignore him? Yes, as much as possible, and, if necessary, frankly tell him that she could not accept his acquaintance. On the whole, this course seemed best, though an involuntary sympathy with her victim made her wish that it were all over.

In the afternoon Mrs. Morris, as usual, took her summer siesta; d.i.c.k had found a friend, and was whirling somewhere behind a pair of fast horses; and, finally, Bertha, bored by the society in the ladies'

parlor, took her hat and a book and walked over to Goat Island. She made the circuit of its forests and flas.h.i.+ng water views, and finally selected a shady seat on its western side, whence she could look out on the foamy stairs of the Rapids. The unnecessary book lay in her lap; a more wonderful book than any printed volume lay open before her.

Who shall dare to interpret the day-dream of a maiden? Soothed by the mellow roar of the waters, fascinated by the momentary leaps of spray from the fluted, sh.e.l.l-shaped hollows of the descending waves, and freshened by the wind that blew from the cool Canadian sh.o.r.e, she nursed her wild weeds of fancy till they blossomed into brighter than garden-flowers. Meanwhile a thunder-cloud rose, dark and swift, in the west. The menaces of its coming were unheard, and Bertha was first recalled to consciousness by the sudden blast of cold wind that precedes the ram.

When she looked up, the gray depth of storm already arched high over the Canadian woods, and big drops began to rap on the s.h.i.+ngly bank below her. A little further down was a summer-house--open to the west, it is true, but it offered the only chance of shelter within view. She had barely reached it before a heavy peal of thunder shattered the bolts of the rain, and it rushed down in an overwhelming flood.

Mounted on the bench and crouched in the least exposed corner, she was endeavoring, with but partial success, to shelter herself from the driving flood, when a man, coming from the opposite end of the island, rushed up at full speed.

"Here," he panted, "Miss Morris, take this umbrella! I saw you at a distance, and made haste to reach you. I hope you're not wet." The s.p.a.cious umbrella was instantly clapped over her, and the inevitable Chiropodist placed himself in front to steady it, fully exposed to the rain.