"I know it," said Mrs. Jeremy, "and I dare say you will enjoy the journey, in spite of all the scarecrows the doctor sets up to frighten you; but it does seem a sacrifice for you to leave your comforts for such an uncertain sort of life."
"Sacrifice!" said the doctor; "it's the greatest sacrifice that ever I heard of! It is not merely giving up a good income of her own earning, and as pleasant a home as there is in Boston; it is relinquishing all the independence that she has been striving after, and which she was so anxious to maintain."
"No, doctor," said Gertrude, warmly; "nothing that I do for _Emily's_ sake can be called a sacrifice; it is my greatest pleasure."
"Gerty always finds her pleasure in doing what is right," remarked Mrs. Jeremy.
"The thought," said Gertrude, "that our dear Emily was dependent upon a stranger for all those little attentions that are only acceptable from those she loves, would make me miserable; our happiness for years has been in each other; and when one has suffered, the other has suffered also. I _must_ go to her; I cannot think of doing otherwise."
"I wish," muttered Dr. Jeremy, "that your sacrifice would be half appreciated. But Graham, I'll venture to say, thinks it will be the greatest favour to take you back again. Perhaps he addressed you as a beggar; it wouldn't be the first time he's done such a thing. I wonder what would have induced poor Philip Amory to go back. Has he made any apology in his letter for past unkindness?"
"I do not think he considered any to be needed," replied Gertrude.
"Then he didn't make any excuse for his ungentlemanly behaviour? I declare it's a shame you should be exposed to any more such treatment; but I always _did_ hear that women were self-forgetful in their friendship, and I believe it. Gertrude makes an excellent friend. Mrs. Jeremy, we must cultivate her regard; and sometime or other, perhaps, make a loud call upon her services."
"And if ever you do, sir, I shall be ready to respond to it; if there is a person in the world who owes a debt to society, it is myself. I hear the world called cold, selfish, and unfeeling; but it has not been so to me. I should be ungrateful if I did not cherish a spirit of universal love; how much more so, if I did not feel bound, heart and hand, to those dear friends who have bestowed upon me such affection as no orphan ever found before!"