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“Salome, if you are not particularly engaged this morning, I should be glad to see you in the library.”
“At what hour?”
“Immediately, if you are at leisure.”
The orphan put aside the fold of crape which she was converting into a collar, and inclined her head slightly.
Since that brief and painful interview held beside Miss Jane’s coffin, not a syllable had passed between them, and the girl shrank with a vague, shivering dread from the impendingtête-à-tête.
Silently she followed the master of the house into the library, where Dr. Grey drew two chairs to the table, and, when she had seated herself in one, he took possession of the other.
Opening a drawer, he selected several papers from a mass of what appeared to be legal documents, and spread them before her.
“I wish to acquaint you with the contents of my sister’s will, which I examined last night. Will you read it, or shall I briefly state her wishes?”
“Tell me what you wish me to know.”
She swept the papers into a pile, and pushed them away.
“Have you ever read a will?”
“No, sir.”
She leaned her elbows on the table, and rested her face in her hands.
“All these pages amount simply to this,—dear Jane made her will immediately after my return from Europe, and its provisions are: that this place, with house, land, furniture, and stock, shall be given to and settled upon you; and moreover that, for the ensuing five years, you shall receive every January the sum of one thousand dollars. Until the expiration of that period, she desired that I should act as your guardian. By reference to the date and signature of these papers, you will find that this will was made as soon as she was able to sit up, after her illness produced by pneumonia; but appended to the original is a codicil stating that the validity of the distribution of her estate, contained in the former309instrument, is contingent upon your conduct. Feeling most earnestly opposed to your contemplated scheme of going upon the stage as aprima donna, she solemnly declares, that, if you persist in carrying your decision into execution, the foregoing provisions shall be cancelled, and the house, land, and furniture shall be given to Jessie and Stanley; while only one thousand dollars is set apart as your portion. This codicil was signed one month ago.”
Dr. Grey glanced over the sheets of paper, and refolded them, allowing his companion time for reflection and comment, but she remained silent, and he added,—
“However your views may differ from those entertained by my sister, I hope you will not permit yourself to doubt that a sincere desire to promote your life-long happiness prompted the course she has pursued.”
Five minutes elapsed, and the orphan sat mute and still.
“Salome, are you disappointed? My dear friend, deal frankly with me.”
She lifted her pale, quiet face, and, for the first time in many weeks, he saw unshed tears shining in her eyes, and glittering on her lashes.
“I should be glad to know whether Miss Jane consulted you, in the preparation of her will?”
“She conferred with me concerning the will, and I cordially approved it; but of the codicil I knew nothing, until her lawyer—Mr. Lindsay—called my attention to it yesterday afternoon.”
“You are very generous, Dr. Grey, and no one but you would willingly divide your sister’s estate with paupers, who have so long imposed upon her bounty. I had no expectation that Miss Jane would so munificently remember me, and I have not deserved the kindness which she has lavished onme,for Jessie and Stanley I gratefully accept her noble gift, and it will place them far beyond the possibility of want; while the only regret of which I am conscious, is, that I feel compelled to pursue a career, which my best, my only friend disapproved. In the name of poor little Jessie and Stanley, I310thank you, sir, for consenting to such a generous bequest of property that is justly yours. You, who—”
“Pray do not mention the matter, for independent of the large legacy left me by my sister, my own fortune is so ample that I deserve no thanks for willingly sharing that which I do not need. My little sister, you must not rashly decide a question which involves your future welfare, and I can not and will not hear your views at present. Take one week for calm deliberation, weigh the matter prayerfully and thoughtfully, and at the expiration of that time, meet me here, and I will accept your decision.”
She shook her head, and a dreary smile passed swiftly over her passionless face.
“Twenty years of reflection would not alter, or in any degree bend my determination, which is as firmly fixed as the base of the Blue-Ridge; and—”
“Pardon me, Salome, but, until the week has elapsed, I do not wish or intend to receive your verdict. Before this day week, recollect all the reasons which dear Janet urged against your scheme; recall the pain she suffered from the bare contemplation of such a possibility, and her tender pleadings and wise counsel. Ah, Salome, you are young and impulsive, but I trust you will not close your ears against your brother’s earnest protest and appeal. If I were not sincerely attached to you, I should not so persistently oppose your favorite plan, which is fraught with perils and annoyances that you can not now realize. Hush! I will not listen to you to-day.”
He rose, and laying his hands softly on her head, added, in a solemn but tremulously tender tone,—
“And may God in His infinite wisdom and mercy overrule all things for your temporal and eternal welfare, and so guide your decision, that peace and usefulness will be your portion, now and forever.”
311CHAPTER XXIV.
“Yes, Dr. Grey, I am better than I ever expected or desired to be in this world.”
“Mrs. Gerome, this is scarcely the recompense that my anxious vigilance and ceaseless exertions merit at your hands.”
The invalid leaned far back in her cushioned easy-chair, and, as the physician rested his arm on the mantelpiece and looked down at her, he thought of the lines that had more than once recurred to his mind, since the commencement of their acquaintance,—
“What finely carven features! Yes, but carvedFrom some clear stuff, not like a woman’s flesh,And colored like half-faded, white-rose leaves.’Tis all too thin, and wan, and wanting blood,To take my taste. No fulness, and no flush!A watery half-moon in a wintry skyLooks less uncomfortably cold. And ... well,I never in the eyes of a sane womanSaw such a strange, unsatisfied regard.”
“I suppose I ought to be grateful to you, Dr. Grey, for Katie and Robert have told me how patiently and carefully you nursed and watched over me, during my illness; but instead of gratitude, I find it difficult to forgive you for what you have done. You fanned into a flame the spark of life that was smouldering and expiring, and baffled the disease that came to me as the handmaid of Mercy. Death, transformed into an angel of pity, kindly opened the door of escape from the woe and weariness of this sin-cursed world, into the calmness and dreamless rest of the vast shoreless Beyond; and just when I was passing through, you snatched me back to my burdens and my bitter lot. I know, of course, that you intended only kindness, but you must not blame me if I fail to thank you.”
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“You forget that life is intended as a season of fiery probation, and that without suffering there is no purification, and no reward. Remember, ‘Calm is not life’s crown, though calm is well;’ and those who forego the pain must forego the palm.”
“I would gladly forego all things for a rest,—a sleep that could know no end. Katie tells me I have been ill a month, and from this brief season of oblivion you have dragged me back to the existence that I abhor. Dr. Grey, I feel to-day as poor Maurice de Guérin felt, when he wrote from Le Val, ‘My fate has knocked at the door to recall me; for she had not gone on her way, but had seated herself upon the threshold, waiting until I had recovered sufficient strength to resume my journey. “Thou hast tarried long enough,” said she to me; “come forward!” And she has taken me by the hand, and behold her again on the march, like those poor women one meets on the road, leading a child who follows with a sorrowfulair.’”
“There is a better guide provided, if you would only accept and yield to his ministrations. For the flint-faced fate that you accuse so virulently, substitute that tender and loving guardian the Angel of Patience.
‘To weary hearts, to mourning homes,God’s meekest Angel gently comes.. . . . . . . . . .There’s quiet in that Angel’s glance,There’s rest in his still countenance!. . . . . . . . . .The ills and woes he may not cureHe kindly trains us to endure.. . . . . . . . . .He walks with thee, that Angel kind,And gently whispers, ‘Be resigned.’
A moment since, you quoted De Guérin, and perhaps you may recollect one of his declarations, ‘I have no shelter but resignation, and I run to it in great haste, all trembling and distracted. Resignation! It is the burrow hollowed in the cleft313of some rock, which gives shelter to the flying and long-hunted prey.’ You will never find peace for your heart and soul until you bring your will into complete subjection to that of Him ‘who doeth all things well.’ Defiance and rebellious struggles only aggravate your sorrows and trials.”
She listened to the deep, quiet voice, as some unlettered savage might hearken to the rhythmic music of Homer, soothed by the tones, yet incapable of comprehending their import; and as she looked up at the grave, kingly face, her eyes fell upon the broad band of crape that encircled his straw hat, which had been hastily placed on the mantelpiece.
“Dr. Grey, you ought to speak advisedly, for Robert told me that you had recently lost your sister, and that you are now alone in the world. You, who have severe afflictions, should know how far resignation lightens them. I was much pained to learn that your sister died while you were absent,—while you were sitting up with me. Ah, sir! you ought to have watched her, and left me to my release. You have been very kind and considerate toward one who has no claim upon aught but your pity; and I would gladly lie down in your sister’s grave, and give her back to your heart and home.”
Her countenance softened for an instant, and she held out her hand. He took the delicate fingers in his, and pressed them gently.
“God grant that your life may be spared, until all doubt and bitterness is removed from your heart, and that when you go down into the grave it may be as bright with the blessed faith of a Christian as that which now contains my sister Janet. Do not allow the gloom of earthly disappointment to cloud your trust, but bear always in mind those cheering words of Saadi,—
‘Says God, “Who comes towards me an inch through doubtings dim,In blazing light I do approach a yard towards him.”’”
“If I am to be kept in this world until all the bitterness is scourged out of me, I might as well resign myself to a career314as endless as that of Ahasuerus. I tell you, sir, I have been forced to drink out of quassia-cups until my whole being has imbibed the bitter; and I am like that tree to which Firdousi compared Mahmoud, ‘Whose nature is so bitter, that were you to plant it in the garden of Eden, and water it with the ambrosial stream of Paradise, and were you to enrich its roots with virgin honey, it would, after all, discover its innate disposition, and only yield the acrid fruit it had ever borne.’”
“What right have you to expect that existence should prove one continued gala-season? When Christ went down meekly into Gethsemane, that such as you and I might win a place in the Eternal City, how dare you demand exemption from grief and pain, that Jesus, your God, did not spare Himself? Are you purer than Christ, and wiser than the Almighty, that you impiously deride and question their code for the government of the Universe, in which individual lives seem trivial as the sands of the desert, or the leaves of the forest? Oh! it is pitiable, indeed, to see some worm writhing in the dust, and blasphemously dictating laws to Him who swung suns and asterisms in space, and breathed into its own feeble fragment of clay the spark that enabled it to insult its God. Put away such unwomanly scoffing,—such irreverent puerilities; sweep your soul clean of all such wretched rubbish, and when you feel tempted to repine at your lot, recollect the noble admonition of Dschelaleddin, ‘If this world were our abiding-place, we might complain that it makes our bed so hard; but it is only our night-quarters on a journey, and who can expect homecomforts?’”
“I can not feel resigned to my lot. It is too hard,—too unjust.”
“Mrs. Gerome, are you more just and prescient than Jehovah?”
She passed her thin hand across her face, and was silent, for his voice and manner awed her. After a little while, she sat erect in her chair, and tried to rise.
“Doctor, if you could look down into the gray ruins of my heart, you would not reprove me so harshly. My whole being seems in some cold eclipse, and my soul is like the Sistine315Chapel in Passion-week, where all is shrouded in shadow, and no sounds are heard but Misereres and Tenebræ.”
“Promise me that in future you will try to keep it like that Christian temple, pure and inviolate from all imprecations and rebellious words. If gloom there must be, see to it that resignation seals your lips. What are you trying to do? You are not strong enough to walk alone.”
“I want to go into the parlor,—I want my piano. Yesterday I attempted to cross the room, and only Katie’s presence saved me from a severe fall.”
She stood by her chair, grasping the carved back, and Dr. Grey stepped forward, and drew her arm under his.
In her great weakness she leaned upon him, and when they reached the parlor door, she paused and almost panted.
“You must not attempt to play,—you are too feeble even to sit up longer. Let me take you back to your room.”
“No,—no! Let me alone. I know best what is good for me; and I tell you my piano is my only Paraclete.”
Holding his arm for support, she drew a chair instead of the piano-stool to the instrument, and seated herself.
Dr. Grey raised the lid, and waited some seconds, expecting her to play, but she sat still and mute, and presently he stooped to catch a glimpse of her countenance.
“I want to see Elsie’s grave. Open the blinds.”
He threw open the shutters, and came back to the piano.
Through the window, the group of deodars was visible, and there, bathed in the mild yellow sunshine was the mound, and the faded wreath swinging in the breeze.
For many minutes Mrs. Gerome gazed at the quiet spot where her nurse rested, and with her eyes still on the grave, her fingers struck into Chopin’s Funeral March.
After a while, Dr. Grey noticed a slight quiver cross her pale lips, and when the mournful music reached its saddest chords, a mist veiled the steely eyes, and very soon tears rolled slowly down her cheeks.
The march ended, she did not pause, but began Mozart’s Requiem, and all the while that slow rain of tears dripped down on her white fingers, and splashed upon the ivory keys.
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Dr. Grey was so rejoiced at the breaking up of the ice that had long frozen the fountain of her tears, that he made no attempt to interrupt her, until he saw that she tottered in her chair. Taking her hands from the piano, he said gently,—
“You are quite exhausted, and I can not permit this to continue. Come back to your room.”
“No; let me stay here. Put me on the sofa in the oriel, and leave the blinds open.”
He lifted her from the chair and led her to the sofa, where she sank heavily down upon the cushions.
Without comment or resistance, she drank a glass of strong cordial which he held to her lips, and lay with her eyes closed, while tears still trickled through the long jet lashes.
She wore a robe of white merino, and a rich blue shawl of the same soft material which was folded across her shoulders, made the wan face look like some marble seraph’s, hovering over an altar where violet light streams through stained glass.
For some time Dr. Grey walked up and down the long room, glancing now and then at his patient, and when he saw that the tears had ceased, he brought from a basket in the hall an exquisitely beautiful and fragrant bouquet of the flowers which he knew she loved best,—heliotrope, violets, tube-rose, and Grand-Duke jessamine, fringed daintily with spicy geranium leaves, and scarlet fuchsias.
Silently he placed it on her folded hands, and the expression of surprise and pleasure that suddenly lighted her countenance, amply repaid him.
“Dr. Grey, it has been my wish toexceptservices from no one,—to owe no human being thanks; but your unvarying kindness to my poor Elsie and to me, imposes a debt of gratitude that I can not easily liquidate. I fear you are destined to bankrupt me, for how can I hope to repay all your thoughtful, delicate care, and generous interest in a stranger? Tell me in what way I can adequately requite you.”
Dr. Grey drew a chair close to the sofa, and answered,—
“Take care lest your zeal prove the contrary, for you know a distinguished philosopher asserts that, ‘Too great eagerness317to requite an obligation is a species of ingratitude;’ and such an accusation would be unflattering to you, and unpleasant to me.”
Turning the bouquet around in order to examine and admire each flower, Mrs. Gerome toyed with the velvet bells, and said, sorrowfully,—
“Their delicious perfume always reminds me of my beautiful home near Funchal, where heliotrope and geraniums grew so tall that they looked in at my window, and hedges of fuchsias bordered my garden walks. Never have I seen elsewhere such profusion and perfection of flowers.”
“When were you in Madeira?”
“Two years ago. The villa I occupied was situated on the side of a mountain, whose base was covered with vineyards; and from a grove of lemon and oleanders that stood in front of the house I could see the surging Atlantic at my feet, and the crest of the mountain clothed with chestnuts, high above and behind me. In one corner of my vineyard stood a solitary palm, which tradition asserted was planted when Zarco discovered the island; and the groves of orange, citron, and pomegranate trees were always peopled with humming-birds, and flocks of green canaries. There, surrounded by grand and picturesque scenery of which I never wearied, I resolved to live and die; but Elsie’s desire to return to America, which held the ashes of her husband and child, overruled my inclination and the dictates of judgment, and reluctantly I left my mountain Eden and came here. Now, when I smell violets and heliotrope, regret mingles with their aroma; and, after all, the sacrifice was in vain, and Elsie would have slept as calmly there, under palm and chestnut, as yonder, where the deodar-shadows fall.”
“Is your life here a faithful transcript of that portion of it passed at Funchal?”
“Yes; except that there I saw no human being but the servants, who transacted any business that demanded interviews with the consul.”
“It was fortunate that Elsie’s wise counsel prevailed over your caprice, for many of your griefs proceed from the complete318isolation to which you so strangely doom yourself; and until you become a useful member of that society you are so fully fitted to adorn and elevate, you need not hope or expect the peace of mind that results only from the consciousness of having nobly discharged the sacred obligations to God, and to your race. ‘Bear ye one another’s burdens,’ was the solemn admonition of Him who sublimely bore the burdens of an entire world. Now tell me, have you ever stretched out a finger to aid the toiling multitudes whose cry for help wails over even the most prosperous lands? What have you done to strengthen trembling hands, or comfort and gladden oppressed hearts? How dare you hoard within your own home the treasure of fortune, talent, and sympathy, which were temporarily entrusted to your hands, to be sown broadcast in noble charities,—to be judiciously invested in promoting the cause of Truth in the fierce war Evil wages against it? Hitherto you have lived solely for yourself, which is a sin against humanity; and have pampered a morbid and rebellious spirit, that is agrevioussin against your God. Shake off your lethargy and cynicism, and let a busy future redeem a vagrant and worthless past. ‘He that goeth forth and weepeth, bearing precious seed, shall doubtless come again with rejoicing, bringing his sheaves with him.’”
The flowers dropped on her bosom, and, clasping her hands across her forehead, she turned her face towards the sea, and seemed pondering his words.
“Dr. Grey, my purse has always been open to the needy, and Elsie was my almoner. Whenever you find a destitute family, or hear an appeal for help, I shall gladly respond, and constitute you the agent for the distribution of my charity-fund. As for bearing the sorrows of others, pray excuse me. I am so weighed down with my own burdens that I have no strength or leisure to spare to my neighbors, and since I ask no aid, must not be censured for rendering none. It is utterly useless to urge me to enter society, for like that sad pilgrim in Brittany, ‘In losing solitude I lose the half of my soul. I go out into the world with a secret horror. When I withdraw, I gather together and lock up my scattered treasure,319but I put away my ideas sorely handled, like fruits fallen from the tree upon stones.’ No, no; in seclusion I find the only modicum of peace that earth can ever yield me, and can readily understand why Chateaubriand avoided those crowds which he denominated, ‘The vast desert of men.’”
“You must not be offended, if, in reply, I remind you of the rude but vigorous words of that prince of cynics, Schopenhauer, ‘Society is a fire at which the wise man from a prudent distance warms himself; not plunging into it, like the fool who after getting well blistered, rushes into the coldness of solitude, and complains that the fire burns.’ Of the two evils, reckless dissipation and gloomy isolation, the latter is probably an economy of sin; but since neither is inevitable, we should all endeavor to render ourselves useful members of society, and unfurl over our circle the banner of St. Paul, ‘Use this world as not abusing it.’ Mrs. Gerome, do not obstinately mar the present and future, by brooding bitterly over the trials of the past; but try to believe that, indeed,—
...‘Sorrows humanize our race;
Tears are the showers that fertilize this world.And memory of things precious keepeth warmThe heart that once did hold them.’”
He watched her eagerly yet gravely, hoping that her face would soften; but she raised her hand with a proud, impatient motion.
“You talk at random, concerning matters of which you know nothing. I hate the world and have abjured it, and you might as well go down yonder and harangue the ocean on the sin of its ceaseless muttering, as expect to remodel my aimless, blank life.”
Pained and disappointed, he remained silent, and, as if conscious of a want of courtesy, she added,—
“Do not allow your generous heart to be disquieted on my account, but leave me to a fate which can not be changed,—which I have endured seven years, and must bear to my grave. Now that you see how desolate I am, pity me, and be silent.”
“It will be difficult for you to regain your strength here,320where so many mournful associations surround you, and I came to-day to beg you to take a trip somewhere, by sea or land. Almost any change of scene and air will materially benefit you, and you need not be absent more than a few weeks. Will you take the matter under consideration?”
“No, sir; why should I? Can hills or waves, dells or lakes, cure a mind which you assure me is diseased? Can sea breeze or mountain air fan out recollections that have jaundiced the heart, or furnish an opiate that will effectually deaden and quiet regret? I long ago tried your remedy—travelling, and for four years I wandered up and down, and over the face of the old world; but amid the crumbling columns of Persepolis, I was still Agla Gerome, the wretched; and when I stood on the margin of the Lake of Wan, I saw in its waves the reflection of the same hopeless woman who now lies before you. Change of external surroundings is futile, and no more affects the soul than the roar of surface-surf changes the hollow of an ocean bed where the dead sleep; and, verily,—
‘My heart is a drear Golgotha, where all the ground is whiteWith the wrecks of joys that have perished,—the skeletons of delight.’”
He saw that in her present mood expostulation would only aggravate the evil he longed to correct, and hoping to divert the current of her thoughts, he said,—
“I trust you will not deem me impertinently curious if I ask what singular freak bestowed upon you the name of ‘Agla’?”
A startling change swept over her features, and her tone was haughtily challenging.
“What interest can Dr. Grey find in a matter so trivial? If I were named Hecate or Persephone, would the world have a right to demur, to complain, or to criticise?”
“When a lady bears the mystic name, which, in past ages, was given to the Deity, by a race who, if superstitious, were at least devout and reverent, she should not be surprised if it321excites wonder and comment. Forgive me, however, if my inquiry annoyed you.”
He rose and took his hat, but her hand caught his arm.
“Do you know the import of the word?”
“Yes; I understand the significance of the letters, and the wonderful power attributed to them when arranged in the triangles and called the ‘Shield of David.’ Knowing that it was considered talismanic, I could not imagine why you were christened with so mystical a name.”
“I was never christened.”
He could not explain the confusion and displeasure which the question excited, and anxious to relieve her of any feeling of annoyance, he added,—
“Have you ever looked into the nature of theAglaophotis?”
She struggled up from her cushions, and exclaimed, with a vehemence that startled him,—
“What induced you to examine it? I know that it is a strange plant, growing out of solid marble, and accounted a charm by Arab magicians. Well, Dr. Grey, do not I belong to that species? You see before you a human specimen ofAglaophotis, growing out of a marble heart.”
Sometimes an exaggerated whimsicality trenches so closely upon insanity, that it is difficult to discriminate between them; and, as Dr. Grey noted the peculiarly cold glitter of her large eyes, and the restless movement of her usually quiet hands, he dreaded that the crushing weight on her heart would ultimately impair her mind. Now he abruptly changed the topic.
“Mrs. Gerome, whenever it is agreeable to you to drive down the beach or across the woods and among the hills, it will afford me much pleasure to place my horse, buggy, and myself at your disposal; and, in fine weather like this, a drive of a few miles would invigorate you.”
“Thank you. I shall not trouble you, for I have my low-swung easy carriage, and my grays—my fatal grays. Ah if they would only serve me as they did my poor Elsie! When I am strong enough to take the reins, I will allow them an322opportunity. Dr. Grey, if I seem rude, forgive me. You are very kind and singularly patient, and sometimes when you have left me, I feel ashamed of my inability to prove my sincere appreciation of your goodness. For these beautiful flowers, I thank you cordially.”
She held out her hand, and, as he accepted it, he drew from his pocket the silver key which he had so carefully preserved.
“Accident made me the custodian of this key, which I found on the floor the day of Elsie’s burial. Knowing that it belonged to your escritoire, whence I saw you take it, I thought it best not to commit it to a servant’s care, and have kept it in my pocket until I thought you might need it.”
Although the room was growing dim, he detected the expression of dread that crossed her countenance, and saw her bite her thin lip with vexation.
“You have worn for one month the key of my desk, where lie all my papers and records; and when I was so desperately ill, I presume you looked into the drawers, merely to ascertain whether I had prepared my will?”
The mockery of her tone stung him keenly, but he allowed no evidence of the wound to escape him. Bending over her as she sat partially erect, supported by cushions, he took her white face tenderly in his hands, and said, very calmly and gently,—
“When you know me better, you will realize how groundless is your apprehension that I have penetrated into the recesses of your writing-desk. Knowing that it contained valuable papers, I guarded it as jealously as you could have done; and, upon the honor of a gentleman, I assure you I am as ignorant of its contents as if I had never entered the house. When I consider it essential to my peace of mind to become acquainted with your antecedents, I shall come to you and ask what I desire to learn. While you were so ill, I told Robert that your friends should be notified of your imminent danger, and inquired of him whether you had made a will, as I deemed it my duty to inform your agent of your alarming condition. He either could not or would not give me any satisfactory reply, and there the matter ended. When I am gone, do not323reproach yourself for having so unjustly impugned my motives, for I shall not allow myself to believe that you really entertain so contemptible an opinion of me; and shall ascribe your hasty accusation to mere momentary chagrin and pique.”
“Ah, sir! you ought not to wonder that I am so suspicious; you—but how can you understand the grounds of my distrust, unless—”
“Hush! We will not discuss a matter which can only excite and annoy you. Mrs. Gerome, under all circumstances you may unhesitatingly trust me, and I beg to assure you I shall never divulge anything confided to me. You need a friend, and perhaps some day you may consider me worthy to serve you in that capacity; meantime, as your physician, I shall continue to watch over and control you. To-day you have cruelly overtasked your exhausted system, and I can not permit you to remain here any longer. Come immediately to your own room.”
His manner was so quietly authoritative that she obeyed instantly, and when he lifted her from the sofa, she took his arm, and walked towards the door. Before they had crossed the hall, he felt her reel and lean more heavily against him, and silently he took the thin form in his arms, and carried her to her room.
The gray head was on his shoulder, and the cold marble cheek touched his, as he laid her softly down on her bed and arranged her pillows. He rang for Katie, and, in crossing the floor, stepped on something hard. It was too dusky in the closely curtained apartment to see any object so small, but he swept his hand across the carpet and picked up the key that had slipped from her nerveless fingers. Placing it beside her, he smiled and said,—
“You are incorrigibly careless. Are you not afraid to tax my curiosity so severely, and tempt me so pertinaciously, by strewing your keys in my path? The next time I pick up this one, which belongs to your escritoire, I shall engage some one to act as your guardian. Katie, be sure she takes that tonic mixture three times a day. Good-night.”
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When the sound of his retreating footsteps died away, Mrs. Gerome thrust the key under her pillow, and murmured,—
“I wonder whether this Ulpian can be as true, as trusty, as nobly fearless as his grand old Roman namesake, whom not even the purple of Severus could save from martyrdom? Ah! if Ulpian Grey is really all that he appears. But how dare I hope, much less believe it? Verily, he reminds me of Madame de Chatenay’s description of Joubert, ‘He seems to be a soul that by accident had met with a body, and tried to make the best of it.’”
“Did you speak to me, ma’am?” asked Katie, who was bustling about, preparing to light the lamp.
“No. The room is like a tomb. Open the blinds and loop back all the curtains, so that I can look out.”
“And the sunset paled, and warmed once moreWith a softer, tenderer after-glow;In the east was moon-rise, with boats off-shoreAnd sails in the distance drifting slow.”
CHAPTER XXV.
“Doctor Grey, sister says she wants to see you, before you go to town.”
Jessie Owen came softly up to the table where Dr. Grey sat writing, and stood with her hand on his knee.
“Very well. Tell sister I will come to her as soon as I finish this letter. Where is she?”
“In the library.”
“In ten minutes I shall be at leisure.”
He found Salome with a piece of sewing in her hand, and her young sister leaning on her lap, chattering merrily about a nest full of eggs which she and Stanley had found that morning in a corner of the orchard; while the latter swung on the back of her chair, winding over his finger a short curl that lay on her neck. It was a pleasant, peaceful, homelike picture, worthy of Eastman Johnson’s brush, and for thirty325years such a group had not been seen in that quiet old library.
Dr. Grey paused at the threshold, to admire the graceful pose of Jessie’s fairy figure,—the lazy nonchalance of Stanley’s posture,—and the finely shaped head that rose above both, like some stately lily, surrounded by clustering croci; but Salome was listening for his footsteps, and turned her head at his entrance.
“Stanley, take Jessie up to my room, and show her your Chinese puzzle. When I want either or both of you, I will call you. Close the door after you, and mind that you do not get to romping, and shake the house down.”
“How very pretty Jessie has grown during the last year. Her complexion has lost its muddy tinge, and is almost waxen,” said the doctor, when the children had left the room and scampered up stairs.
“She is a very sweet-tempered and affectionate little thing, but I never considered her pretty. She is too much like her father.”
“Salome, death veils all blemishes.”
“That depends very much on the character of the survivors; but we will not discuss abstract propositions,—especially since I have resolved to follow the old oriental maxim,—
‘Leave ancestry behind, despise heraldic art,Thy father be thy mind, thy mother be thy heart.Dead names concern not thee, bid foreign titles wait;Thy deeds thy pedigree, thy hopes thy rich estate!’
Dr. Grey, the week has ended, and I took the liberty of reminding you of the fact, as I am anxious to acquaint you with my purposes for the future.”
He drew a chair near hers, and seated himself.
“Well, Salome, I hope that reflection has changed your views, and taught you the wisdom of my sister’s course with reference to yourself.”
“On the contrary, the season of deliberation you forced upon me has only strengthened and intensified my desire to carry into execution the project I have so long dreamed of; and to-day I am more than ever firmly resolved to follow, at326all hazards, the dictates of my own judgment, no matter with whose opinions or wishes they may conflict.”
She expected that he would expostulate, and plead against her decision, but he merely bowed, and remained silent.
“My object in asking this interview was to ascertain how soon it would be convenient for you to place in my hands the legacy of one thousand dollars which was bequeathed to me on condition that I went upon the stage; and also to inquire what you intend to do with the children, of whom Miss Jane’s will constitutes you the guardian?”
“You wish me to understand that you are determined to defy the wishes of your best friend, and take a step which distressed her beyond expression?”
“I shall certainly go upon the stage.”
“I have no alternative but to accept your decision, which you are well aware I regard as exceedingly deplorable. The money can be paid to you to-morrow, if you desire it. Hoping that you would abandon this freak, I had intended to keep the children here, under your supervision, while I removed to my house in town, and left their tuition to Miss Dexter; but since you have decided otherwise, I shall remain here for the present, keeping them with me, at least until after Muriel’s marriage. The income from this farm averages two thousand dollars a year, and will not only amply provide for their wants and education, but will enable me to lay aside annually a portion of that amount. When Muriel marries, Miss Dexter may not be willing to remain here, and if she leaves us I shall endeavor to find as worthy and reliable a substitute. Have you any objection to this arrangement?”
“I have no right to utter any, since you are the legal guardian of the children. But contingencies might arise for which it seems you have not provided.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean that I can trust Jessie and Stanley to you, but when you are married I prefer that they should find another home; or, if need be, Jessie can come to me.”
An angry flush dyed Dr. Grey’s olive face, and kindled a fiery gleam in his usually mild, clear, blue eyes, but looking at327the girl’s compressed and trembling lips, and noting the underlying misery which her defiant expression could not cover, his displeasure gave place to profound compassion.
“Salome, dismiss that cause of anxiety from your mind, and trust the assurance I offer you now,—that when I marry, my wife will be worthy to assist me in guiding and governing my wards.”
She was prepared to hear him retort that the career she had chosen would render her an unsuitable counsellor for little Jessie; and conscious that she had deeply wounded him, his calm reply was the sharpest rebuke he could possibly have administered.
“Dr. Grey, I have no extraordinary amount of tenderness for the children, because they are indissolubly associated with that period of my life to which I never recur without pain and humiliation that you can not possibly realize or comprehend; still, I am not exactly a brute, and I do not wish them to be trained to regard me as a Pariah, or to be told that I have forfeited their respect and affection. When I am gone, let them think kindly of me.”
“Your request is a reflection upon my friendship, and is so exceedingly unjust that I am surprised and pained; but let that pass. I am sure I need not tell you that your wishes shall be complied with. I have often thought that after Stanley completed his studies, I would take him into my office, and teach him my own profession. Have you any objection to this scheme?”
“No, sir. I am willing to trust him implicitly to you. He has one terrible fault which I have been trying to correct, and which I hope you will not lose sight of. The boy seems constitutionally addicted to telling stories, and prefers falsehood to truth. I have punished him repeatedly for this habit, and you must, if possible, save him from the pauper vice of lying, which is peculiarly detestable to me. I know less of the little one’s character, but believe that she is not afflicted with this evil tendency.”
“Stanley’s fault has not escaped me, and two days ago I was obliged to punish him for a gross violation of the truth;328but as he grows older, I trust he will correct this defect, and I shall faithfully endeavor to show him its enormity. Is there anything else you wish to say to me about the children? I will very gladly hear any suggestions you can offer.”
“No, sir. I have governed myself so badly, that it ill becomes me to dictate to you how they should be trained. God knows, I am heartily glad they were mercifully thrown into your hands; and if you can only make Stanley Owen such a man as you are, the old blot on the name may be effaced. From Mark and Joel I have not heard for several months, and presume they will be sturdy but unlettered mechanics. If I succeed, I shall interfere and send them to school; otherwise, they must take the chances for letters and a livelihood.”
“Salome, you are bartering life-long peace and happiness for the momentary gratification of a whim, prompted solely by vanity. How worthless are the brief hollow plaudits of the world (which will regard you merely as the toy of an hour), in comparison with the affection and society of your own family? Here, in your home, how useful, how contented you might be!”
Her only reply was a hasty, imperious wave of the hand, and a long silence followed.
In the bright morning light that streamed in through the tendrils of honeysuckle clambering around the window, Dr. Grey looked searchingly at the orphan, and could scarcely realize that this pale, proud, pain-stricken face, was the same rosy round one, fair and fearless, that had first met his gaze under the pearly apple-blossoms.
Then, pink flesh, hazel eyes, vermillioned lips, and glossy hair had preferred incontestable claims to beauty; now, an artist would have curiously traced the fine lines and curves daintily drawn about eyes, brow and mouth, by the stylus of care, of hopelessness, of wild bursts of passion. Her figure retained its rounded symmetry, but the countenance traitorously revealed the struggles, the bitter disappointments, the vindictive jealousy, and rudely-smitten and blasted hopes, that had robbed her days of peace and her nights of sleep.
Until this moment, Dr. Grey had not fully appreciated the329change that had been wrought by two tedious years, and as he scrutinized the sadly sharpened and shadowed features, a painful feeling of humiliation and almost of self-reproach sprang from the consciousness that his inability to reciprocate her devoted love had brought down this premature blight upon a young and whilom happy, careless girl,—transforming her into a reckless, hardened, hopeless woman.
While his inexorable conscience fully exonerated him from censure, his generous heart ached in sympathy for hers, and his chivalric tenderness for all things weaker than himself, bled at the reflection that he had been unintentionally instrumental in darkening a woman’s life.
But hope,—beautiful, blue-eyed, sunny-browed hope,—whispered that this was a fleeting youthful fancy; and that absence and time would dispel the temporary gloom that now lay on her heart, like some dense cold vapor which would grow silvery, and melt in morning sunshine.
Under his steady gaze the blood rose slowly to its old signal-station on her cheeks, and she put up one hand to shield its scarlet banners.
“Salome, will you tell me when and where you intend to go? Since you have resolved to leave us, I desire to know in what way I can aid you, or contribute to the comfort of the journey you contemplate.”
“From the last letter of Professor V——, declining your proposal that he should come here and instruct me, I learn that within the ensuing ten days he will sail for Havre,en routeto Italy, where he intends spending the winter. If possible, I wish to reach New York before his departure, and to accompany him. The thousand dollars will defray my expenses until I have completed my musical training, which will fit me for the stage, and insure an early engagement in some operatic company. Knowing your high estimate of Professor V——, both as a gentleman and as a musician, I am exceedingly anxious to place myself under his protection; especially since his wife and children will meet him at Paris, and go on to Naples. Are you willing to give me a letter of introduction, commending me to his favorableconsideration?”