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“I dispute the prerogative of the public to dictate in such matters, and I shall rebel whenever it presumes to lay even a little finger across my path. What, pray tell me, is the world, but an aggregation of persons like you and me, and what possible concern can you or I have with the fact that Mrs. Gerome burrows like a mole, beyond our sight? If she sees fit to found a modern sect of Troglodytes, I can’t understand that the wheels of society are thereby scotched, or that the public has a shadow of right to raise a hue-and-cry and strive to unearth her, as if she were a fox, a catamount, or a gopher. It is useless for society to constitute itself a turning-lathe for rounding off all individual angularities, and grinding people down to dull uniformity until they are as indistinguishable as a bag of unpainted marbles or of black-eyed peas; and, if God had intended that we should all invariably think, feel, and act after one pattern, He would have populated the world with Siamese twins; whereas, the first couple that were born on earth were so dissimilar that all the universe was not wide enough to hold them both, and manslaughter began when the race only numbered a quartette. If mankind had not arrogated the privilege of being its ‘brother’s keeper,’ it would never have been forced to deny the fact. I admire the honesty and truth with which Alexander Smith bravely confessed, ‘I love a little eccentricity; I respect honest prejudices. It is high time, it seems to me, that a moral game-law were passed for the preservation of the wild and vagrant feelings of human nature.’”
“That is a dangerous doctrine, my dear child, especially for a woman to entertain; because custom rules us with an iron rod, and flays us alive if we contravene her decrees.”
“I should be exceedingly glad to learn by what authority or process Truth is provided with sex? Are some orthodox doctrines female and others male? Why have not we women as clear a right to any given set of principles as men? Truth is as much my property as that of the Czar of Russia, and, if I choose to lay hold of any special province of it, why must I perforce be dragged to the whipping-post of custom, simply because by an accident I am called Susan or Hepzibah instead153of Peter or Lazarus? So long as my convictions of truth (which custom brands as vagaries) are innocuous, I have a perfect and inalienable right to indulge them; but the instant I become pestiferous to society, let me be consigned to the tender mercies of strait-jacket and insane-asylum regimen. If I creep quietly along my own intellectual and ethical trail, taking heed not to touch the sensitive toes of custom, why should it ungenerously insist upon bruising mine? My seer was right when he boldly declared, ‘The world has stood long enough under the drill of AdjutantFashion.’It is hard work, the posture is wearisome, and Fashion is an awful martinet, and has a quick eye, and comes down mercilessly on the unfortunate wight who can not square his toes to the approved pattern. It is killing work. Suppose we try ‘standing at ease’ for a little while? Wherefore, custom to the contrary notwithstanding, I contend that Mrs. Gerome has as indisputable a right to refuse admittance to Rev. Mrs. Spiewell as any anchorite of the Nitrian Sands to decline receiving a bevy of inquisitive European belles. If society rules like Russia or Turkey, then am I a candidate for knout and bastinado. I do not wish to be unwomanly, and honesty and candor are not necessarily unfeminine, because some coarse, rough-handed, bold-eyed woman has possibly rendered them unpopular.”
Miss Jane laid down her knitting, folded her hands, and, as she watched the girl, her emotions were probably similar to those that agitate some meek and staid hen, who, leading a young brood of ducks from her nest, suddenly beholds them displaying their aquatic proclivities by plunging into the horse-pond, and performing all the evolutions of a regatta.
“Ah, child, I fear you think too little of what you wish or intend to make yourself!”
“Only have patience, Miss Jane, and some day I will show you all the graces of Griselda and Gudrun the second. Dr. Grey, have you seen Mrs. Gerome?”
“Yes,—on two occasions.”
“Is she not the most extraordinary and puzzling person you ever looked at?”
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“When and where could you have met her?”
“For a few minutes only, last winter, I saw her on the beach, near ‘Solitude.’ We exchanged a half-dozen words, and she left an impression on my mind which all time will not efface. Since that evening I have frequently endeavored to surprise her on the same spot, but only once I succeeded in catching a glimpse of a blue shawl that fluttered in the distance. She seemed to me a beautiful, pale priestess, consecrated to the ministry of the shrine of sorrow; and, when I hear snubbed-dom sneering at her, and remember the hopeless expression with which her wonderful, homeless eyes looked out across that grey, silent sea,—I cannot avoid thinking that she is very wise in barring her doors, and heeding the advice of Montenebi, ‘Complain not of thy woes to the public: they will no more pity thee than birds of prey pity the wounded deer.’”
“My acquaintance with Mrs. Gerome is too slight to warrant the utterance of an opinion relative to her idiosyncrasies, but I am afraid cynicism rather than grief immures her from society. Her prematurely white hair and the remarkable pallor of her smooth complexion combine to render her appearance piquant and unnatural; and, certainly, there is something in her face strangely suggestive of old Norse myths, mystery, and magic. Her features, when analyzed, prove faultlessly regular, but her life is out of tune, and the expression of her countenance mars what would otherwise be perfect beauty. I can, in some degree, describe the impression she produced upon me by quoting the lines that were suggested when I saw her this morning, standing by Elsie Maclean’s bed,—
‘I saw a vision of a woman, whereNight and new morning strive for domination;Incomparably pale, and almost fair,And sad beyond expression.Her eyes were like some fire-enshrining gem,Were stately, like the stars, and yet were tender;Her figure charmed me, like a windy stem,Quivering, and drooped, and slender.She measured measureless sorrow toward its lengthAnd breadth, and depth, and height.’”
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Salome looked up from the eyelet she was working, but Dr. Grey had turned his head towards his sister who had fallen asleep in her chair, and the orphan could not see his face.
“Mrs. Gerome must have been very young when she married, and—”
“Hush! Janet looks so weary that I want her to have a long nap, and our voices might disturb her.”
He took his hat and gloves and left the room, and Salome forgot her embroidery and fell into a reverie that proved neither pleasant nor profitable, and lasted until Miss Jane awoke.
In the afternoon of the following day, when the orphan returned from her clandestine visit to the Italian musician, she saw an unusual number of persons on the front gallery, and found that the long-expected party from New York had arrived during her absence. Miss Jane was talking to the governess—a meek-looking, but exceedingly handsome woman, of twenty-seven or eight years, with fair hair and quiet brown eyes; and every detail of her dress, speech, and bearing averred that Edith Dexter was no humble scion of proletariat. Her polished yet reserved manners bespoke high birth and aristocratic associations; but something in the composed, sad countenance, in the listless drooping of the pretty head, hinted that she had long since spilt the rosy sparkling foam of her cup of life, and was patiently drinking its muddy lees.
On the upper step sat Dr. Grey, with his arm encircling the form of his ward, whose head rested very confidingly against his shoulder. Muriel Manton was dressed in deep mourning, and had evidently been weeping, for her guardian was tenderly wiping the tears from her cheek when Salome came up the avenue; and, with a keen, jealous pang that she had never felt before, the latter scanned the stranger’s claims to beauty.
Very black eyes, brilliant complexion, and fine teeth, she certainly possessed; but her features were rather coarse; her mouth was much too large for classic requirements; and Salome was rejoiced to find her nose indisputablyretroussé.
Years hence she would doubtless be a large, well-formed, commanding woman, who could exhibit Lyons silk or Genoese156velvet to the best advantage, and would be considered a fine-looking, rosy, robust personage; but at present the face, which from under a small straw hat anxiously watched hers, was infinitely handsomer, more attractive, more delicate, and intellectual; and the miller’s child felt that she had little to apprehend from the merely personal charms of the wealthy ward.
Salome felt injured as she eyed the doctor’s arm, which had never touched even her shoulder; and it was painful and humiliating to notice the affectionate manner in which his hand stroked one of Muriel’s that lay on his knee,—and to remember that his fingers had not met hers in a friendly grasp since long before his visit to Europe,—had only clasped hers twice during their acquaintance.
“Come in, Salome, and let me introduce you to my ward Muriel, and to Miss Dexter, who is prepared to receive you as a pupil.”
Muriel silently held out her hand; but Salome only bowed andranlightly up the steps, as if she did not perceive the outstretched fingers. Miss Dexter rose and advanced to meet her, saying, in a tone that indexed great kindness of heart,—
“I am exceedingly glad to meet you, Miss Salome; for Dr. Grey has promised that I shall find in you a most exemplary and agreeable pupil.”
“Thank you. I am indeed glad to hear that he has changed his opinion of me; and I must endeavor not to lose my newly acquired amiable character,—but he was rather rash to stand security for my good behavior.”
She saw that Dr. Grey was surprised at her cold reception of his pet andprotegé, and perversity took possession of her. Going to the back of Miss Jane’s old-fashioned rocking-chair she put her arms around her, and, leaning over, kissed her cheek several times. It was not her habit to caress any one or any thing,—not even her little brother,—and this unusual demonstrativeness puzzled and surprised the old lady who said, fondly,—
“I presume Ulpian is brave enough to encounter all the risks of standing security for your obedience and docility.”
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“Certainly I appreciate his chivalry, since none knows better than he the danger—nay, probability, of a forfeiture of the contract on my part.”
Dr. Grey rose, and, looking steadily at her, said, in a tone which she well understood,—
“Promises are, in my estimation, peculiarly sacred things; and that which I made to Miss Dexter in your behalf was based upon one that I gave you some time since, namely, that I would have faith in you. Come with me, Muriel; I want to show you and Miss Dexter the finest cow this side of Ayrshire, and some sheep that are handsome enough to compare favorably with the best that ever browsed in the ‘Court of Lions.’”
He took his ward’s hand and led her away to the cattle-yard, whither Miss Dexter accompanied them.
As Salome looked after the trio her eyes flashed and scarlet spots burned on her cheeks, while a feeling of suffocation oppressed her heart.
“Why will you vex him, when you know that he tries so hard to like you?” asked Miss Jane in a distressed tone, stroking the girl’s hot face, as she spoke.
The head was instantly lifted beyond her reach, and the answer came swiftly, sharp and defiant,—
“Do you mean to say that it is so extremely difficult for him to tolerate me?”
“You are obliged to know that you are not one of his favorites, like that sweet-tempered Muriel, to whom he seems so warmly attached; and it is all your own fault, for he was disposed to like you when he first came home. Ulpian loves quiet and amiable people, who are never rude and snappish; and it appears to me that you are trying to see how hateful and spiteful you can be. Why upon earth did you not shake hands with those strangers, and treat them politely?”
“Because I don’t choose to be hypocritical,—and I don’t like Miss Muriel Manton.”
“Nonsense!Stuff! I only wish you were half as well-bred and courteous, and lady-like.”
“Do you, really? Then, to be obedient and, oblige you, when they come back, I will imitate her example, and throw158myself into Dr. Grey’s arms, and rub my cheek against his shoulder, and fondle his hands. If this be ‘lady-like,’ then, indeed, I penitently cry ‘peccavi!’ and promise that in future you shall not have cause to complain of me.”
“Pooh, pooh, child! What ails you? Muriel has known Ulpian all her life, and looks upon him now as her father. He has petted her since she was a little girl, and loves her almost as well as if she were his child, instead of his ward. You know she is an orphan; and it is very natural for her to cling to her guardian, who was for a great many years her father’s most intimate friend.”
“We are both orphans, and she is certainly not my junior, yet your propriety would be shocked if I behaved as she does. Where is Stanley?”
“Studying his geography lesson, with the assistance of the globe, in the library. What do you want with him?”
“I am going to the beach, and wish him to walk with me.”
“It is too late for you to start for the seaside, and, moreover, it would appear very discourteous in you to absent yourself the first evening that these strangers spend here. Ulpian would be displeased.”
“According to your statement a few minutes since, that is his chronic condition, as far as I am concerned; and, as I do not belong to the mimosa species, I think I may brave his frowns.”
“That is not the worst you have to apprehend. Child, I think it would be bitter indeed, to bear Ulpian Grey’s contempt.”
“I shall take care not to deserve it; and Dr. Grey never forgets to be just.”
“My dear little girl, what right have you to be jealous of his love for his young ward?”
The flame that was slowly dying out of her face leaped up fiercer than before, and she crimsoned to the edges of her hair.
“Jealous! Good heavens, Miss Jane, you must be dreaming! I merely question the taste that allows his ‘lady-like’ favorite to caress him so openly, and should not have expressed159my disapprobation so strongly if you had not rated me soundly, and held her up as a model for my humble imitation. If she and her governess are to stir up strife between you and me, I shall heartily wish them a speedy passage to Halifax or heaven. Beyond all peradventure I shall get murderously jealous if you dare to give this sloe-eyed, peony-faced girl, my place in your dear old heart. She, of course, will fondle her guardian as much as she pleases, or as often as he sees fit to allow; but woe unto her if I catch her hands and lips about you, my dearest and best friend! Don’t scold me and praise her, or some fine day I shall jump at and strangle her, which you know would not be ‘well-bred’ or ‘lady-like,’ much less moral and Christian.”
She almost smothered the old lady in her arms, and kissed her several times.
“What has stirred up the evil spirit in you? You look as wicked as your mother Herodias, thirsting for the blood of John the Baptist; or as Jezebel plotting against the prophet—”
“And telling me that like her I am ‘going to the dogs’ is not the surest way to reform me. Stanley! Stanley! get your hat and come here.”
“Your awful temper will be your ruin if you don’t put a curb-bit on it. See here, Salome, don’t be so utterly silly and childish! I do not wish you to go to the sea-shore this evening.”
“Please, Miss Jane, don’t order me to stay at home, because, then of course, I should feel bound to obey you, and I should not behave prettily, and you would wish me at the bottom of the sea, instead of on its brink. Let me go, and I will come back cool as a cucumber, and well-behaved as Miss Muriel Manton. Please don’t prohibit me; and I promise I will lose my evil spirit in the sea, like that Gergesene wretch that haunted the tombs. Here comes Stanley. Don’t shake your head. I am off.”
Miss Jane would not receive the proffered farewell kiss, but tears gathered and dimmed her eyes as she looked after the graceful, girlish figure, swiftly crossing the lawn; and160sad forebodings filled her affectionate heart when she thought of the unknown future that stretched before that impetuous, jealous, imperious nature.
Anxious that the strangers should feel thoroughly welcome and at home, she joined them as soon as possible after their return from the sheepfold, and exerted herself to keep the shuttlecock of conversation in constant motion; but her brother’s watchful eyes discerned the perturbed feeling she sought to hide; and, when she insisted, for the first time in two years, upon taking her seat and presiding at the tea-table, he busied himself in arranging her cushions comfortably, and whispered,—
“How good and considerate you are, my precious sister. A thousand thanks for this generous effort, which I trust will not fatigue you.”
He placed himself opposite, and was about to ask a blessing on the meal, but paused to inquire,—
“Where are the children, Salome and Stanley?”
“They have gone down to the beach, and we will not wait for them.”
Soon after, Muriel said,—
“I think Salome is almost beautiful. She has splendid eyes and hair. Miss Edith, does she not remind you of a piece of sculpture at Naples?”
“Yes; I noticed a resemblance to theJulia-Agrippina, and the likeness must be remarkable, since it impressed us simultaneously. Salome’s brow is fuller, and her chin more prominent than that of the Roman woman we admired so ardently; and, besides, I should judge that she had quite as much or more will than the daughter of Germanicus, for her lips are thinner.”
Dr. Grey changed the topic of conversation, and Miss Dexter courteously followed the cue.
The moon was high in heaven when Salome and her brother came up the avenue; and, observing that the lights were extinguished in the front rooms, she surmised that the new-comers had retired very early, in consequence of fatigue from their long journey. Sending Stanley to bed, she sat down on the161steps to rest a few moments before going upstairs, and began to fan herself with her straw hat.
She had grown very calm, and almost ashamed of her passionate ebullition in the presence of strangers; and numerous good resolutions were sending out fibrous roots in her heart. How long she rested there she knew not, and started whenDr. Greysaid, in a subdued voice,—
“Salome, I am waiting to lock the door, and should be glad if you will come in now, or be careful to secure the inner bolt whenever you do. As I always shut up the house, I was afraid you might not think of it; and burglaries are becoming alarmingly frequent.”
She rose instantly, and entered the hall.
“What time is it?”
“Eleven o’clock.”
“Is it possible? You know, sir, that the evenings are very short now.”
“Yes.”
He was removing a chair from the gallery and closing the Venetian blinds, and she could not see his face. Hoping to receive some friendly look, which she was painfully aware she did not deserve, she loitered till he turned around.
“Salome, have you a light in your room?”
“I do not know, but suppose so.”
“There are two candles in the library, and you had better take one, rather than stumble along in the dark and wake everybody.”
He brought out one, and handed it to her.
“Thank you. Good-night, Dr. Grey.”
“Good-night, Salome.”
The candle-light showed no displeasure in his countenance, which was calm as usual, and there was not a hint of harshness in his unwontedly low voice; but she read disappointment in his grave, kind eyes. She knew that she could not sleep until she had made her peace with him; and, though it cost her a great effort to conquer her pride, she said, humbly,—
“‘And if he trespass against thee seven times in a day, and162seven times in a day turn again to thee, saying, I repent,—thou shalt forgive him.’”
“Yes; but the frequency of the offence renders it difficult to believe the repentance genuine.”
“Christ, your master, did not doubt it.”
“I am less than the disciples whom he addressed; and they answered, ‘Increase our faith.’”
“You did not pray for me this morning.”
“I never neglect my promises. Why do you doubt that I fulfilled them this morning?”
“This has been one of my sinful days, when Satan runs rough-shod over all my good intentions, and drags me through the mire that I was trying to hold my soul far above. I tell you, sir, that the ‘unclean spirit’ that vexed the daughter of the Syrophœnician woman was mild, and harmless, and well-mannered, in comparison with the demon that takes bodily possession of me, and whose name is not ‘Suset’! but a fearfulRuachdemanding the banCherem. I once thought all that part of Scripture which referred to the casting out of devils was metaphorical; but I know better now; for the one that Luther assaulted with his inkstand was not more palpable than that which enters into my heart every now and then, and overturns the altars of the ‘true, good, and beautiful,’ and sets up instead a small hall of Eblis, as full of horrible, mis-shapen things as that hideous ‘Last Judgment’ of Orcagna, in the Campo Santo at Pisa, which you once showed me in a portfolio of engravings. Oh, Dr. Grey! you ought to be merciful to me; for indeed God gave me a fearfully wicked and cunning spirit for a perpetual companion and tempter. Even Christ had Lucifer and Quarantina.”
“Yes, and conquered both, and promised assistance to all who earnestly desire and resolve to follow his example.”
“You cannot forgive my rudeness?”
“The act of incivility was very slight; but, my young friend, the unaccountable perversity of your character certainly fills my mind with serious apprehension concerning your future. Of course, I can very readily forgive the occasion163that displayed it, but I cannot entirely forget the spirit that distresses me when I least expect it.”
“If you will dismiss this afternoon from your mind, I will never—”
“Stop! Make me no more promises till you are strong enough to keep them inviolate. Promise less and pray more; I am not angry, but I am disappointed.”
She drooped her head to avoid his grave, sad gaze, and for a moment there was silence.
“Dr. Grey, will you shake hands with me, in token of pardon?”
“Certainly, if you wish it.”
He took her hand in both of his, pressed it kindly, and said, in a low, solemn tone,—
“Good-night, Salome. May God guide, and strengthen, and help you to be the noble woman, the consistent Christian, which only His grace and blessing can ever enable you to become. Remember the cheering words of Jean Paul Richter, ‘Evil is like the nightmare, the instant you bestir yourself it has already ended.’”
CHAPTER XIII.
“Ulpian, have you had any conversation with Salome?”
“Upon what subject?”
“Have you talked with her concerning her studies?”
“Not recently. Soon after Muriel and Miss Dexter came, I mentioned to her the fact that I should be glad to see her enter a class with Muriel and pursue the same studies, and that such an arrangement would be entirely agreeable to Miss Dexter; but she declined the proposition, saying she would only trouble the latter to teach her Italian. Do you know why she is so anxious to acquire that language?”
“No; to tell you the truth, I know less and less every day about her actions, for the child has suddenly grown very reserved. This morning she was walking up and down the164library with her hands behind her and her eyes looking as if they were travelling to Jericho or Jeddo, and when I asked her why she was so unusually silent, she snapped like a toy-torpedo, ‘I am silent because this is one of my wicked days, and I am fighting the devil; and if I open my lips I shall say something that will give him the victory.’ I held out my hand to her and begged her to come and sit by me and tell me what troubled or tempted her,—and what do you suppose she said?”
“Something, I am afraid, that I shall be sorry to hear you repeat.”
“She laid her hand on her heart and answered, ‘You are very good, Miss Jane, but you can no more help me than the disciples could relieve that wretch whom only Christ healed.’ ‘This kind goeth not out but by prayer and fasting.’ Whereupon, she snatched a book from the table and left the room. I did not see her for several hours, and when I met her in the hall, a few moments since, I said, ‘Well, dear, which won the victory, sin or my little girl?’ She put her hands on my shoulders, laughed bitterly, and answered, ‘It was a drawn battle. Neither has much to boast of, and we lie on our arms watching—nay, glaring at each other. Let me be quiet a little while, and don’t ask me aboutit.’”
“Can you conjecture the cause of the present trouble?”
“I have a suspicion.”
MissJane paused, sighed, and frowned.
“I should think you might persuade her to confide in you.”
“Pooh! Persuade her? I would quite as soon undertake to persuade the Andes to dance a jig as attempt to discover what she has determined not to divulge. If you knew her as well as I do, you would appreciate the uselessness of trying to persuade her to do anything. But you men never see what lies right under your noses, and I believe if you lived in the same house with that child for five years longer you would understand her as little as you do to-day. Ulpian, shut the door, and sit down here close to me.”
Dr. Grey complied; and, laying her shrunken hand on her brother’s knee, Miss Jane said, hesitatingly,—
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“My dear boy, I don’t know whether I ought to tell you, and, indeed, I do not see my way clearly; but you seem so unsuspecting that I think it is my duty to talk to you.”
“Pray come to the point, dear Janet. Your exordium is very tantalizing. Tell me frankly what disturbs you.”
“It pains me to call your attention to a fact that I know cannot fail to produce annoyance.”
He put his arm around her, and, drawing her head to his shoulder, answered, tenderly,—
“My precious sister, I have seen for some days that you were perplexed and anxious, but I abstained from questioning you because I felt assured whenever you deemed it best to confide in me, you would voluntarily unburden your heart. Now lay all your troubles upon me, and keep back nothing. Has Salome grieved you?”
“Oh, the child does not intend to grieve me! Ulpian, can’t you imagine what makes her unhappy, and restless, and contrary?”
“She is very wayward, passionate, and obstinate, and any restraint upon her whims is peculiarly irksome and intolerable to her; but I believe she is really striving to correct the unfortunate defects in her character. She evidently dislikes our guests, and this proves a continual source of disquiet to her; for, while she endeavors to treat them courteously, I can see that she would be excessively rude if she dared to indulge her antipathies.”
“Do you know why she dislikes Muriel so intensely?”
“No; I cannot even conjecture. Muriel is very amiable and affectionate, and seems disposed to become very fond of Salome, if she would only encourage her advances. Can you explain the mystery?”
“If you were not as blind as a mole, or the fish in Mammoth Cave, you would see that Salome is insanely jealous of your affection for your ward, and that is the cause of all the trouble.”
“It is unreasonable and absurd in her to entertain such feelings; and, moreover, she has no right to cherish any jealousy towards my ward.”
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“Unreasonable! Yes, quite true; but did you ever know a woman to be very reasonable concerning the man she loves?”
Dr. Grey’s quiet face flushed, and he rose instantly, looking incredulous and embarrassed.
“Surely, my dear sister, you do not intend to insinuate, or desire me to infer, that Salome has any—”
He paused, bit his lip, and walked to the window.
“I mean to say, in plain Anglo-Saxon, and I desire you to understand, that Salome is no longer a child; and that she loves you, my dear boy, better than she will ever love any other human being. These things are very strange, indeed, and girls’ whims baffle all rules and disappoint all reasonable expectations; but, nevertheless, it does no good to shut your eyes to facts that are as clear as daylight. It is not a sudden freak that has seized the poor child; it has grown upon her, almost without her understanding herself; but I discovered it the day that you left home so unexpectedly for New York. Her distress betrayed her real feelings; and, since then, I have watched her, and can see how completely her thoughts centre in you.”
“Oh, Janet, I hope you mistake her! I cannot believe it possible, for I recall nothing in her conduct that justifies your supposition; and I do not think I lack penetration. If she were really interested in me, as you imagine, she certainly would not thrust so prominently and constantly before me faults of character which she well knows I cannot tolerate. Moreover, my dear sister, consider the disparity in our years, the incompatibility of our tastes and habits, and the improbability that a handsome young girl should cherish any feeling stronger than esteem or friendship for a staid man of my age! No, no; it is too incredible to be entertained, and I am sorry you ever suggested such an annoying chimera to me. Salome is rather a singular compound, I willingly admit, but I acquit her of the folly you seem inclined to impute to her.”
Dr. Grey walked up and down the library floor, and, as his sister watched him, a sad smile trembled over her thin, wrinkled face.
“Ulpian, you are considerably younger than our poor167father was when he married a beautiful creature not one month older than Salome is to-day. Will you sit in judgment on your own young mother?”
“Nay, Janet; the parallelism is not as apparent as you imagine, for my manner toward Salome has been calculated to check and chill any sentiment analogous to that which my father sought to win from my mother. Pray, do not press upon me a surmise which is indescribably painful to me.”
He resumed his seat, and, thrusting his fingers through his hair, leaned his head on his open hand.
“My dear boy, if true, why should it prove indescribably painful to you?”
“Cannot your womanly intuitions spare me an explicit reply?”
“No; speak frankly to me.”
“No man of honor—no man who has any delicacy or refinement of feeling—can fail to be distressed and annoyed by the thought that he has unintentionally and unconsciously aroused in a woman’s heart an interest which he cannot possibly reciprocate.”
“But, if you have never considered the subject until now, how do you know that you may not be able to return the affection?”
“Because, when I examine my own heart, I find not even the germ of a feeling which years might possibly ripen into love.”
“Will you candidly answer the question I am about to ask you?”
“Yes, I think I can safely promise that much, simply because I wish to conceal nothing from you; and I cannot conjecture any inquiry on your part from which I should shrink. What would you ask?”
“Is it because you are interested in some other woman, that you speak so positively of the hopelessness of my poor Salome’s case?”
“No, my sister; no woman has any claim or hold on my heart stronger than that of mere friendship. I have never loved any one as I must love the woman I make my wife; and168since I have seen and merely admired so many who were attractive, lovely, and lovable, I often think that I shall probably never marry.
...‘For several virtues
I have liked several women; never anyWith so full a soul, but some defect in herDid quarrel with the noblest grace she owned,And put it to a foil.’
Of course this is a matter with reference to which I shall not dogmatize, for we are all more or less the victims of caprice; and, like other men, I may some day set the imperious feet of fancy upon the neck of judgment and sound reason. As yet, I have not met the perfect character whom I could ask to bear my name; still, I may be so fortunate as either to find my ideal, or imagine that I do; or else become so earnestly attached to some beautiful woman, that, for her sake, I will willingly lower my lofty standard. These are the merest possible contingencies, and I have little inclination to discuss them; but I wish at all times to be entirely frank with you. Salome would never suit me as a life-long companion. She meets none of the requirements of my intellectual nature, and her perverse disposition, and what might almost be termeddiablerie, repel instead of attracting me. I pity the child, and can sympathize cordially with her efforts to redeem herself from the luckless associations of earlier years that wofully distorted her character; and I can truly say that I am interested in her welfare and improvement, and have a faint brotherly affection for her; but I thoroughly comprehend my own feelings when I assure you, Janet, that were Salome and I left alone in the world I could never for a moment entertain the idea of calling such a wayward child my wife. Are you satisfied?”
“Convinced, at least, that you are not deceiving me. But, Ulpian, the girl is growing very beautiful—don’t you think so?—or, is it my love that makes me see her through flattering lenses?”
“Her lips are too thin, and her eyes too keen and restless for perfect beauty, which claims repose as one of its essential169elements; but, notwithstanding these flaws, she has undoubtedly one of the handsomest faces I have ever seen, and certainly a graceful, fine figure.”
“And you are such an admirer of beauty,” said Miss Jane, slipping her fingers caressingly into her brother’s hand.
“Yes; I shall not deny that I yield to no one in appreciation of lovely faces; but, if I am aware that, like some rich crimson June rose whose calyx cradles a worm, the heart beneath the perfect form is gnawed by some evil tendency, or shelters vindictive passion and sinful impulses, I should certainly not select it in making up the precious bouquet that is to shed perfume and beauty in my home, and call my thoughts from the din and strife of the outer world to holiness and peace.”
“You have no mercy on the child.”
“I ought to have no mercy on glaring faults which she should ere this have corrected.”
“But she is so young—only seventeen! Think of it!”
Dr. Grey frowned, and partially withdrew his hand from his sister’s clasp.
“Janet, you grieve me. Surely you are not pleading with me in behalf of Salome?”
Tears trickled over Miss Jane’s sallow cheeks and dripped on the doctor’s hand, as she replied,—
“Bear with me, Ulpian. The girl is very dear to me; and, loving you as she unquestionably does, I know that you could make her a noble, admirable woman,—for she has some fine traits, and your influence would perfect her character. Believe me, my dear boy, you, and you only, can remould her heart.”
“Possibly,—if I loved her; for then I would be patient and forbearing towards her faults. But I cannot even respect that handsome, fiery, impulsive, unreasonable child, much less love her; and, if I ever marry, my wife must be worthy to remould my own defective life and erring nature. I am surprised, my dear sister, that you, whose sincere affection I can not doubt, should be willing to see me link my life with that of one so much younger, and, I grieve to say it, so far inferior170in all respects. What congenial companionship could I promise myself? What confidence could I repose—what esteem could I entertain—for a silly girl, who, without warrant and utterly unsought, bestows her love (if, indeed, what you say be true) upon a man who never even dreamed of such folly, and is old enough to be her father?”
“I can not comprehend the logic that condemns Salome, and justifies your own mother; for, if there be any difference in their lines of conduct, I am too stupid to see it.”
Miss Jane lifted her head from her brother’s shoulder, resolutely dried her eyes, and settled her cap.
“My mother’s tombstone should shelter her from all animadversion, especially from the lips that owe their existence to her. Do not, my sister, disturb the mouldering ashes of the long-buried past. The unfortunate fact you have mentioned, and which I should gladly doubt if you would only permit me to do so, renders it necessary for me to be perfectly candid with you, and you will, I trust, pardon what I feel compelled to say to you. I have remarked that you watch me quite closely whenever I am engaged in conversation with my ward or her governess, and yesterday, when Muriel came, stood by me, and leaned her arm on my shoulder, you frowned and looked harshly at the child. Once for all, let me tell you that there is no more possibility of my loving Muriel or Edith, than Salome. Of the three, I care most for Muriel, who looks upon me as her second father, and to whom I am deeply attached. If I caress the poor, stricken child, and allow her to approach me familiarly, you ought to understand your brother sufficiently well not to ascribe his conduct to any feeling which he would blush to confess to his sister. The day before Horace died, he said, ‘Be a father to my daughter; take my place when I am gone.’ If I were at liberty to divulge some matters confided to me, I could easily assure you that there is not a shadow of possibility that Muriel will ever grieve and mortify me as Salome has done. Now look at me, dear Janet, and kiss me, and trust your brother; for he will never deceive you, and can not endure a moment’s estrangement from you.”
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Miss Jane put up her lips for the caress, and, after a short silence, Dr. Grey continued,—
“Tell me now what you think best under the circumstances, and I will endeavor to coöperate with you. Does Salome know you are cognizant of her weakness—her misfortune—”
He stammered, and again his face flushed.
“Upon my word, Ulpian, you are positively blushing! Don’t worry yourself, dear, over what can not be helped, or at least is attributable to no fault of yours. No; you may be sure Salome would be drawn, quartered, and broiled, before she would confess to me the feeling which she does not suspect I have discovered. Poor thing! I can’t avoid pitying her whenever you take Muriel’s hand or caress her in any way. This morning you smoothed the hair back from her forehead while she was stooping over her drawing, and poor Salome’s eyes flashed and looked like a leopard’s. She clenched her fingers as if she were strangling something, and an expression came over her face that was dangerous, and made me shiver a little. Something must be done; but I am sure I do not know what to advise.”
“How futile and mocking are merely human schemes! My principal object in bringing Muriel and Miss Dexter here, was to provide agreeable and improving companions for your pet and to afford her the privilege of sharing the educational advantages which Muriel enjoyed.L’homme propose, et Dieu dispose, if, indeed, an occurrence so earnestly to be deplored can be deemed providential. What are her plans relative to Jessie?”
“If she has matured any, she keeps them shut up in her own heart. Once she talked freely to me on all subjects, but recently she seems to avoid acquainting me with her intentions or schemes. Of course, Ulpian, you know I have always expected to leave her a portion of my property.”
“Certainly, dear Janet; you ought to provide comfortably for the girl whom you have taught to rely upon your bounty. It would be cruel and unpardonable to foster hopes that you could not fully realize.”
“It was my intention to put into your hands the share I172intended for her, and to leave her also to your care, when I die; but now I know not what is best. If she could be separated from you, she might divert her thoughts and become interested in other things or persons; but so long as you are in the same house I know there will be nothing but wretchedness and disappointment for her.”
After a long pause, during which Dr. Grey looked seriously pained and perplexed, he said, sorrowfully,—
“You are right in thinking separation would be best; and I will go away at once—”
“Go where?” exclaimed his sister, grasping his coat-sleeve.
“I will furnish the rooms over my office, and live there. It will be more convenient for my business; but I dislike to leave you and the dear old homestead.”
“Stuff! You will churn the Atlantic, with the North Pole for a dasher! Ulpian Grey! come weal come woe, I don’t intend to give you up. Here, right here, you will live while there is breath in my body,—unless you wish to make me sob it out and die the sooner. Pooh! Salome’s shining eyes can not recompense me for the loss of my boy’s blue ones, and I will not hear of such nonsense as the move you propose. You know, dear, I can’t be here very long at the best, and while God spares me I want you near me. Besides, the separation of a few miles would not be worth a thimbleful of chaff; for, of course, Salome would hear of or see you daily, and the change would amount to nothing but anxiety and grief on my part. We will think the matter over, and do nothing rashly. But try to be patient with my little girl; and, for my sake, Ulpian, do not allow her to suspect that you dream of her feeling towards you. It is pitiable,—it is distressing beyond expression; and God knows, if I had thought for an instant that such a state of things would ever have come to pass, I would have left her in the poor-house sooner than have been instrumental in bringing such misery upon her young life. Last night I was suffering so much with my shoulder that I could not sleep, and I heard the child pacing her room until after three o’clock. It was useless to question her; for, of course, she would not confess the real cause, and I did not173wish her to know that I noticed what I could not cure. But, my dearest boy, we are not to be blamed; so don’t look so mortified and grieved. I would not have opened your unsuspecting eyes if I had not feared that your ignorance of the truth might increase the trouble, and I knew I could safely appeal to my sailor-boy’s honor. Now you know all, and must be guided by your own good sense and delicacy in your future course toward the poor, proud young thing. Be guarded, Ulpian, and don’t torment her by petting Muriel in her presence; for sometimes I am afraid there is bad blood in her veins, that brings that wicked glow to her eyes, and I dread that she might suddenly say or do some desperate thing that would plunge us all in sorrow. You know she is not a meek creature, and we must pity her weakness.”
Dr. Grey had grown very pale, and the profound regret printed on his countenance found expression also in the deepened and saddened tones of his voice.
“Trust me, Janet! I will do all a man can to rectify the mischief, of which, God knows, I have been an innocent and entirely unintentional cause. Salome’s course is unwomanly, and lowers her in my estimation; but she is so young I shall hope and pray that her preference for me is not sufficiently strong to prove more than an idle, fleeting, girlish fancy.”
He took his gloves from the table and left the room; and, for some time after his departure, his sister sat rocking herself to and fro, pondering all that had passed. Finally, she struck her hand decisively upon the cushioned top of her crutch, and muttered,—
“Yes, he certainly is as nearly perfect as humanity can be; but, after all, Ulpian Grey is only flesh and blood, and despite his efforts to crush it, there must be some vanity hidden under his proud humility,—for certainly he is both humble in one sense, and inordinately proud in another; and I do not believe there lives a man of his age who would not be flattered by the love of a fresh young beauty like Salome. He thinks now that he is distressed and mortified; and, of course, he is honest in what he tells me; but I have studied human nature to very little purpose for the last fifty years, if, before long,174he does not find himself more interested in Salome than he will be willing to confess. Her love for him will invest her with a charm she never possessed before, for men are vulnerable as women to the cunning advances of flattery. One thing is as sure and clear as that two and two make four,—if he is proof against Salome’s devotion it will be attributable to the fact that he gives his heart to some one else; and I thought his blue eyes rather shied away from mine when he said he had yet to meet the woman he could marry. You don’t intend to deceive me, my precious boy, I know you don’t; but I should not be astounded if you had hoodwinked yourself,—a very little. But ‘sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof,’ and I will wait,—and we shall see what we shall see.”