University of Virginia Library

20. CHAPTER XX.
GERTRUDE AND HER FRIENDS.

With such post-like haste did the young farmer travel that he
falsified Getty's prediction, and returned while the sun yet lingered
in the horizon, bringing with him both the Canadian girl and Mr.
Attorney Gray—each not a little surprised at the summons they
had received.

Leaving the latter to ruminate upon the mystery, Miss Van
Kleeck conducted Ruth to her own room, where, by questioning,
she drew out her whole story, including what the girl had not before
divulged, Harry's betrayal by her uncle, her own heroic attempt
to save him, and his subsequent capture.

Gertrude wept at the recital, both of Vrail's misfortunes and of
the young child's sufferings in his behalf, but she did not allow
her tears to obstruct her questions until the whole truth was elicited
in all its harrowing details.

If her resolntion had not been already taken, the noble example
of Ruth would have inspirited her to the task she had set for herself,
regardless of those flimsy barriers which the conventionalities
of society interpose in the path of affection and duty.

She descended to the parlor with Ruth, and finding the attorney
there alone, she immediately addressed him.”

“You know something about my father's estate and its value,
I believe, Mr. Gray?”

“Yes—considerable.”

“You know that I am his only heir—that it is all mine, and
that I am of the legal age to dispose of it.”

“I know it all.”

“How much money can be raised upon it—on an emergency—
at once—before to-morrow noon?”

“Do you wish to sell?”

“Not if it can be avoided, but I want a large sum of money—
say twenty thousand dollars.”

“It is a large sum, but it is only a small part of the value of the
estate. There is bank stock to half the amount you require,
which, at a little sacrifice, could be made available by the time
you name.”

“I will make the sacrifice; how shall I get the remainder?”

“I can easily obtain it for you on your mortgage upon two or
three of these farms, but I must have a few days' time.”

“Not a day, Mr. Gray—I must have the money by to-morrow
noon. Think again. You shall be paid liberally. I will put the
whole estate into your hands for security, if necessary, but the
money I must have.”

“I will try, Miss Van Kleeck.”

“That will not do. If you cannot say that you can do it, I
must send to town to-night and employ some one else.”

“If the case is so urgent, I think I can promise it, for I can
advance five thousand dollars myself, if necessary, and I certainly
know where I can get the remainder.”

“O, thank you, thank you, Mr. Gray.”

“But we shall have to be up half the night drawing writings.”

“All night, if you choose. What does that matter? Can I
help you?”

“No, I believe not, except by bringing me your father's title
deeds.”

“Yes, you shall have them in a minute,” said Getty, darting to
the door; “shall I bring them all?”

“No, only those which relate to this farm, and the south farm.
That will be abundant security.”

“I will bring them all, and you can choose for yourself.”

“The deeds were brought and Mr. Gray, after selecting those
which he had required, concluded to return to the village, and
make the necessary writings in his office.

“I will bring them to you early in the morning for your signature,”
he said to Miss Van Kleeck. “How early shall I be able
to see you?”

“At daybreak,” replied Getty.

“That will not be necessary; I will call at seven o'clock.”

“Very well, but do not be later. I must have the money by
noon.”

“You shall.”

“And with as little publicity as possible, if you please, Mr. Gray.”

“I understand.”

“You have clerks who talk”—

“My clerks all talk, Miss Van Kleeck,” replied the attorney,
with a quiet smile, “but I will attend to this business in person.”

“Thank you, again. But there is another thing requisite. I
want the money in a shape in which it can be used in Canada.
Can this be arranged?”

“Not very easily; but by going to Albany, I can procure you
drafts on banks at Kingston or Quebec, which will be as good as
gold there, and can be turned into gold at any time.”

“Will you do it? Will you go to Albany to-morrow, and
procure the papers? Will you be at the — Hotel in that
city with them to-morrow evening?”

Getty asked these questions in a lower tone, and in a hurried
manner.

“I will, if such is your pleasure, Miss Van Kleeck,” replied the
lawyer, looking much surprised. “I shall not be able to arrive
there until after bank hours, but in an urgent case I can obtain

the facilities which I shall need for your business. Let me suggest
that your agent comes well accredited, or I shall not dare to surrender
to him papers of so great value.”

“Thank you; I will see to it that you have no cause for doubt.”

Mr. Gray declined an invitation to supper, and took his leave,
being conveyed back to town as he had been brought, but with
the substitution of black Jake for a driver, in the place of Garry,
who remained, at Gertrude's request.

Ruth Shay had been present during the whole of the interview between
the young lady and the lawyer, and she had listened with
astonishment, and with mingled hope and doubt to the strange
conversation which had passed. The large sums of money which
had been named seemed like something fabulous to the mind of
a child, whose experience on this point, during the greater part of
her life had been confined to the occasional sight of a few shillings,
and to whom the gold intrusted by Vrail had seemed a mine of
wealth. Miss Van Kleeck became to her excited imagination a sort
of fairy princess, who, with a pen for a wand, was about to conjure
up from some unknown source, the vast treasures of which
she had spoken, and which Ruth could not doubt would be efficacious
for whatever purpose they were designed. But what was
their intended use? For whom and in what manner was this
great power to be wielded?

She listened earnestly, and as the conversation progressed, she
became convinced that it must be intended in some way for the
service of Harry Vrail, and that her own painful mission was not
to terminate without setting in motion other agencies far more
potent and promising.

Yet it seemed strange to her that she had not heard the name
of the young lieutenant mentioned, for she did not comprehend
the delicacy which had sealed Gertrude's lips on this point, and
she had longed for the departure of Mr. Gray, hoping that her
painful curiosity might be gratified. Nor was she mistaken. No

sooner was she again alone with Gertrude, than the latter, turning
suddenly towards her, as if impressed by a new idea, said:

“You have come alone from Canada; will you go back there
with me.”

“Yes, oh yes! Are you going to save him?”

“God only knows what will be the result. I am going to try.
Mr. Van Vrank, I hope, will go with us. He at least shall not die
without an effort being made in his behalf.”

“Is he a relation of yours?” asked Ruth.

“No—a friend of my father's. There is no one else to help him,
and we must do what we can.”

“I will do anything that I can,” replied Ruth, “if anybody will
tell me what to do.”

“You are a good girl, you have done a great deal already, and
now I want you to tell me something more about yourself and
about the people with whom you lived when Mr. Vrail came to
your house.”

Ruth told her simple but melancholy history in a few minutes,
and Getty shed not a few sympathetic tears over the narrative.

“You have no wish then,” she said, “ever to return to those
people who call themselves your uncle and aunt, and who have
treated you so unkindly?”

“Oh, no—never, if I can help it.”

“Let that be my care,” replied Gertrude. “You shall never go
there again. You shall return here and live with me.”

“Oh, I am so glad that you will take me for your servant.”

“Not my servant, but my sister. I need such a friend as you
are like to prove; I will provide for your education and for all
your wants, and you shall have a comfortable home as long as I
have one to share with you.”

Ruth fell upon her knees at the feet of Gertrude: she rested her
head upon the young lady's lap and tried to speak her thanks, but
she gave utterance only to sobs.

“Do not try to thank me. Indeed we are all your debtors yet,
and shall ever be. But we have much to do, and we must not
waste our time in words. Please to go now, and ask Mr. Van
Vrank to come to me, for I cannot rest until I know whether he
will go with us or not.”

Ruth wiped her eyes and went out, and in a few minutes returned
accompanied by the young man, who was in a state of great
perplexity and amazement at the strange conduct of his cousin.

She did not leave him long in doubt.

As he entered the room, she advanced to the door, closed it
carefully, and said:

“Garry, you will think strange of what I am about to tell you.
You were surprised to-day when your news about Harry Vrail's
misfortunes affected me so much—but”—

She hesitated, and Van Vrank interposed—

“It is none of my business, Cousin Getty, and I shan't think
strange of anything you choose to say or do. You need not be
afraid to say anything before me, Getty. It will be all right, I
know.”

“Thank you, Garry; you relieve me very much, and I can now
speak freely. To be brief, then, I am going to Canada.”

“To Canada? You? What can you do there? How can
you help him?”

“I do not know. I can only hope, and pray, and try; but I
shall certainly go to-morrow.”

“Not alone?”

“No. Not alone—for this heroic child will accompany me, if
no one else does; but Garry, I am in need of a friend and a protector.
You are my relative, almost my only one.”

“I will go with you, Getty. Of course I will, if that is what
you mean, though I don't believe anything can be done for Harry
Vrail; but I will go with you wherever you choose to go, if it is
to the North Pole; and I'll protect you, too, against all harm, as

far as it is possible for one man to do it,” and Van Vrank instinctively
closed his huge hand as he spoke, and brought down the embrowned
fist with a jarring emphasis upon a table beside him.

Getty seized the threatening member with both her tiny hands,
scarcely encircling it at that, and poured forth her thanks as best
she could.

She then related to her cousin all that was necessary for him to
know of her arrangements for starting, and the appointed hour
for departure, and by the time their plans were decided, they
received a summons to the supper table, where aunt Becky was
presiding, looking not a little glum, and exhibiting upon her forehead
that ominous scowl, which was the usual precursor of a
social storm.

“These are high times, very high times I think,” she began, as
they seated themselves around the table, “when people come and
go like the wind, and tired horses are sent off in the night to carry
lazy lawyers home, who are to come back next morning, and nobody
is to know what it is all about. High times these are, I am sure;
it wasn't so in Baltus' day.”

A great many short jerks of the head accompanied this speech,
and the dame's hands passed rapidly to and fro among the cups and
saucers before her, making a great rattling, but not any progress
in her official duties.

“Why aunt!” exclaimed Getty.

“No, no—don't `aunt' me, I ain't your aunt; I am only a nigger
waiter to get the meals, and pour out the tea, and hold my
tongue.” A scream from the angry woman interrupted her speech,
for in her excitement she had caught hold of the metallic spout of
the teapot, instead of the non-conducting handle, and in her haste
to disengage her fingers from the burning tube, she upset the silver
creampot, and dashed several china cups in fragments to the floor.

Her consternation, arising from this disaster, and especially from
contemplating the ruin of the china set, fortunately superseded

her wrath, and she proceeded in silent dismay to pick up the scattered
pieces of the wreck, assisted by Getty, and, between the
intervals of his uproarious laughter, by Garry also. When quiet
was restored, and all parties were again seated at table, Miss
Van Kleeck said.

“I have been too busy and too hurried, aunt Becky, to tell you
sooner that I intended to leave home, to-morrow, for an absence,
perhaps, of several weeks. You will oblige me if you will not
ask me where I am going, or for what purpose, all of which you
shall know hereafter, and you will be satisfied that I am safe when
I tell you I am to have cousin Garret for a companion.”

The severe expression which settled upon the dame's face when
Getty spoke of leaving home relaxed as suddenly at the mention
of the name of her companion, and she jumped at once to the
conclusion that the match she had deemed so desirable was certainly
to be effected, although in some secret and unusual way,
suited to the notions of a romantic or whimsical girl. She elevated
her eyebrows and her spectacles; her lips were wreathed
into a grim smile, and she uttered several expressive “ohs” and
“ahs,” which were intended to indicate that she saw clearly
through the whole affair, and that she was very well contented
with it.

Much desultory conversation passed, and Becky gave utterance
to some sly jokes on the subject of her hallucination, all of
which were received by Garry with a loud guffaw, but too deep
anxiety rested on Gertrude's heart to admit of any approach to
merriment. She had not entertained the least idea of misleading
her aunt, and she would even have tried to undeceive her, had she
not known how difficult the task would be, without a full explanation
of her designs, which she was by no means disposed to make.
She did not think it her duty to make a great effort to disenchant
a pertinacious mind of an illusion so baseless, and to the creation
of which she herself had in no way intentionally contributed.

She contented herself by the simple remark: “You are mistaken
aunt,” in reply to one of the sallies of the dame, and her uniform
truthfulness entitled her to be believed. Gertrude, indeed, was at
all times above deceit; but now, animated by a lofty motive, and
about to engage in an enterprise of self-sacrificing magnanimity,
she could not stoop to even the semblance of duplicity.

She had overcome, too, in a great degree, the habit of mind
which caused her so greatly to dread her scolding relative, having
fully learned her right to regulate her own movements in all
respects, yet neither her manner, nor her words, nor the remembrance
of her direct negative to the forced proposal of Garry in
the preceding week, nor Van Vrank's own irrepressible laughter
whenever her sagacious hints were thrown out, disturbed the settled
conviction in the mind of Becky that the match was made,
and that the parties were about to proceed on a tour matrimonial.
The attendance of the lawyer, who chanced to be also a magistrate,
empowered to tie the mystical knot, of course confirmed her
views; but whether the ceremony had already taken place, or was
to be performed in the morning before starting, or afterwards at
some village on their route, aunt Becky neither knew nor cared.
It was sufficient for her purpose that she firmly believed Van
Vrank was the man of her niece's choice, and that they were to
become, if they were not already, man and wife.

The meal being concluded, though with great difficulty on the
part of Garry, by reason of the repeated necessity either of
violent laughter or a violent suppression of it, he hastened home
to make his own arrangements for the journey, while Gertrude,
eagerly assisted by her now willing aunt, occupied a considerable
part of the night in similar preparations. Ruth was thoroughly
rigged by contributions from the wardrobe of the young lady,
which, as they were successively bestowed upon her, drew forth
continual expressions of childish delight, though accompanied by
a manifest reluctance to receive so much.

“I will only take them to travel in, Miss Van Kleeck,” she
said; “they will be yours again when we come back.”

“They are yours, Ruth; say no more about them.”

The child laughed as she tried the fine garments, and seemed
greatly pleased, but at the next instant a painful emotion was
visible in her face.

“If we can only save him,” she said.

“Ah, if we only can!”