At length, by the aid of crutches, Edna was able to leave the room
where she had been so long confined, and explore the house in which
every day discovered some new charm. The parlors and sitting-room
opened on a long, arched veranda, which extended around two sides of
the building, and was paved with variegated tiles; while the
stained-glass doors of the dining-room, with its lofty frescoed ceiling
and deep bow-windows, led by two white marble steps out on the terrace,
whence two more steps showed the beginning of a serpentine gravel walk
winding down to an octagonal hot-house, surmounted by a richly carved
pagoda-roof. Two sentinel statues--a Bacchus and Bacchante--placed on
the terrace, guarded the entrance to the dining-room; and in front of
the house, where a sculptured Triton threw jets of water into a
gleaming circular basin, a pair of crouching monsters glared from the
steps. When Edna first found herself before these grim doorkeepers, she
started back in unfeigned terror, and could scarcely repress a cry of
alarm, for the howling rage and despair of the distorted hideous heads
seemed fearfully real, and years elapsed before she comprehended their
significance, or the sombre mood which impelled their creation. They
were imitations of that monumental lion's head, raised on the
battle-field of Chaeroneia, to commemorate the Boeotians slain. In the
rear of and adjoining the library, a narrow, vaulted passage with high
Gothic windows of stained-glass, opened into a beautifully proportioned
rotunda, and beyond this circular apartment with its ruby-tinted
skylight and Moresque frescoes, extended two other rooms, of whose
shape or contents Edna knew nothing, save the tall arched windows that
looked down on the terrace. The door of the rotunda was generally
closed, but accidentally it stood open one morning, and she caught a
glimpse of the circular form and the springing dome. Evidently this
portion of the mansion had been recently built, while the remainder of
the house had been constructed many years earlier; but all desire to
explore it was extinguished when Mrs. Murray remarked one day:
"That passage leads to my son's apartments, and he dislikes noise or
intrusion."
Thenceforth Edna avoided it as if the plagues of Pharaoh were pent
therein. To her dazzled eyes this luxurious home was a fairy palace, an
enchanted region, and, with eager curiosity and boundless admiration,
she gazed upon beautiful articles whose use she could not even
conjecture. The furniture throughout the mansion was elegant and
costly; pictures, statues, bronzes, marble, silver, rosewood, ebony,
mosaics, satin, velvet--naught that the most fastidious and cultivated
taste or dilettanteism could suggest, or lavish expenditure supply, was
wanting; while the elaborate and beautiful arrangement of the extensive
grounds showed with how prodigal a hand the owner squandered a princely
fortune. The flower garden and lawn comprised fifteen acres, and the
subdivisions were formed entirely by hedges, save that portion of the
park surrounded by a tall iron railing, where congregated a motley
menagerie of deer, bison, a Lapland reindeer, a Peruvian llama, some
Cashmere goats, a chamois, wounded and caught on the Jungfrau, and a
large white cow from Ava. This part of the inclosure was thickly
studded with large oaks, groups of beech and elm, and a few enormous
cedars which would not have shamed their sacred prototypes sighing in
Syrian breezes along the rocky gorges of Lebanon. The branches were low
and spreading, and even at mid-day the sunshine barely freckled the
cool, mossy knolls where the animals sought refuge from the summer heat
of the open and smoothly-shaven lawn. Here and there, on the soft,
green sward, was presented that vegetable antithesis, a circlet of
martinet poplars standing vis-a-vis to a clump of willows whose long
hair threw quivering, fringy shadows when the slanting rays of dying
sunlight burnished the white and purple petals nestling among the
clover tufts. Rustic seats of bark, cane and metal were scattered
through the grounds, and where the well-trimmed numerous hedges divided
the parterre, china, marble and iron vases of varied mould, held rare
creepers and lovely exotics; and rich masses of roses swung their
fragrant chalices of crimson and gold, rivaling the glory of Paestum
and of Bendemer. The elevation upon which the house was placed
commanded an extensive view of the surrounding country. Far away to the
northeast purplish gray waves along the sky showed a range of lofty
hills, and in an easterly direction, scarcely two miles distant,
glittering spires told where the village clung to the railroad, and to
a deep rushing creek, whose sinuous course was distinctly marked by the
dense growth that clothed its steep banks. Now and then luxuriant
fields of corn covered the level lands with an emerald mantle, while
sheep and cattle roamed through the adjacent champaign; and in the
calm, cool morning air, a black smoke-serpent crawled above the
tree-tops, mapping out the track over which the long train of cars
darted and thundered. Mr. Paul Murray, the first proprietor of the
estate, and father of the present owner, had early in life spent much
time in France, where, espousing the royalist cause, his sympathies
were fully enlisted by the desperate daring of Charette, Stofflet, and
Cathelineau. On his return to his native land, his admiration of the
heroism of those who dwelt upon the Loire, found expression in one of
their sobriquets, "Le Bocage," which he gave to his country residence;
and certainly the venerable groves that surrounded it justified the
application. While his own fortune was handsome and abundant, he
married the orphan of a rich banker, who survived her father only a
short time and died leaving Mr. Murray childless. After a few years,
when the frosts of age fell upon his head, he married a handsome and
very wealthy widow; but, unfortunately, having lost their first child,
a daughter, he lived only long enough to hear the infantile prattle of
his son, St. Elmo, to whom he bequeathed an immense fortune, which many
succeeding years of reckless expenditure had failed to materially
impair. Such was "Le Bocage," naturally a beautiful situation, improved
and embellished with everything which refined taste and world-wide
travel could suggest to the fastidious owner. Notwithstanding the
countless charms of the home so benevolently offered to her, the
blacksmith's granddaughter was conscious of a great need, scarcely to
be explained, yet fully felt--the dreary lack of that which she had yet
to learn could not be purchased by the treasures of Oude--the priceless
peace and genial glow which only the contented, happy hearts of its
inmates can diffuse over even a palatial homestead. She also realized,
without analyzing the fact, that the majestic repose and boundless
spontaneity of nature yielded a sense of companionship almost of
tender, dumb sympathy, which all the polished artificialities and
recherche arrangements of man utterly failed to supply. While dazzled
by the glitter and splendor of "Le Bocage," she shivered in its silent
dreariness, its cold, aristocratic formalism, and she yearned for the
soft, musical babble of the spring-branch, where, standing ankle-deep
in water under the friendly shadow of Lookout, she had spent long,
blissful July days in striving to build a wall of rounded pebbles down
which the crystal ripples would fall, a miniature Talulah or Tuccoa.
The chrism of nature had anointed her early life and consecrated her
heart, but fate brought her to the vestibule of the temple of Mammon,
and its defiling incense floated about her. How long would the
consecration last? As she slowly limped about the house and grounds,
acquainting herself with the details, she was impressed with the belief
that happiness had once held her court here, had been dethroned, exiled
and now waited beyond the confines of the park, anxious but unable to
renew her reign and expel usurping gloom. For some weeks after her
arrival she took her meals in her own room, and having learned to
recognize the hasty, heavy tread of the dreaded master of the house,
she invariably fled from the sound of his steps as she would have
shunned an ogre; consequently her knowledge of him was limited to the
brief inspection and uncomplimentary conversation which introduced him
to her acquaintance on the day of his return. Her habitual avoidance
and desire of continued concealment was, however, summarily thwarted
when Mrs. Murray came into her room late one night, and asked:
"Did not I see you walking this afternoon without your crutches?"
"Yes, ma'am, I was trying to see if I could not do without them
entirely."
"Did the experiment cause you any pain?"
"No pain exactly, but I find my ankle still weak."
"Be careful not to overstrain it; by degrees it will strengthen if
you use it moderately. By the by, you are now well enough to come to
the table; and from breakfast to-morrow you will take your meals with
us in the dining-room."
A shiver of apprehension seized Edna, and in a frightened tone she
ejaculated:
"Ma'am!"
"I say, in future you will eat at the table instead of here in this
room."
"If you please, Mrs. Murray, I would rather stay here."
"Pray, what possible objection can you have to the dining-room?"
Edna averted her head, but wrung her fingers nervously.
Mrs. Murray frowned, and continued gravely:
"Don't be silly, Edna. It is proper that you should go to the table,
and learn to eat with a fork instead of a knife. You need not be
ashamed to meet people; there is nothing clownish about you unless you
affect it. Good-night; I shall see you at breakfast; the bell rings at
eight o'clock."
There was no escape, and she awoke next morning oppressed with the
thought of the ordeal that awaited her. She dressed herself even more
carefully than usual, despite the trembling of her hands; and when the
ringing of the little silver bell summoned her to the dining-room, her
heart seemed to stand still. But though exceedingly sensitive and shy,
Edna was brave, and even self-possessed, and she promptly advanced to
meet the trial.
Entering the room, she saw that her benefactress had not yet come in,
but was approaching the house with a basket of flowers in her hand; and
one swift glance around discovered Mr. Murray standing at the window.
Unobserved, she scanned the tall, powerful figure clad in a suit of
white linen, and saw that he wore no beard save the heavy but
closely-trimmed moustache, which now, in some degree, concealed the
harshness about the handsome mouth. Only his profile was turned toward
her, and she noticed that, while his forehead was singularly white, his
cheeks and chin were thoroughly bronzed from exposure.
As Mrs. Murray came in, she nodded to her young protegee, and
approached the table, saying:
"Good morning! It seems I am the laggard to-day, but Nicholas had
mislaid the flower shears, and detained me. Hereafter I shall turn over
this work of dressing vases to you, child. My son, this is your
birthday, and here is your button-hole souvenir."
She fastened a few sprigs of white jasmine in his linen coat, and, as
he thanked her briefly, and turned to the table, she said, with marked
emphasis:
"St. Elmo, let me introduce you to Edna Earl."
He looked around, and fixed his keen eyes on the orphan, whose cheeks
crimsoned as she looked down and said, quite distinctly:
"Good morning, Mr. Murray."
"Good morning, Miss Earl."
"No, I protest! 'Miss Earl,' indeed! Call the child Edna."
"As you please, mother, provided you do not let the coffee and
chocolate get cold while you decide the momentous question."
Neither spoke again for some time, and in the embarrassing silence Edna
kept her eyes on the china, wondering if all their breakfasts would be
like this. At last Mr. Murray pushed away his large coffee-cup, and
said abruptly:
"After all, it is only one year to-day since I came back to America,
though it seems much longer. It will soon be time to prepare for my
trip to the South Sea Islands. The stagnation here is intolerable."
An expression of painful surprise flitted across the mother's
countenance, but she answered quickly:
"It has been an exceedingly short, happy year to me. You are such a
confirmed absentee, that when you are at home, time slips by unnoticed."
"But few and far between as my visits are, they certainly never
approach the angelic. 'Welcome the coming, speed the parting guest,'
must frequently recur to you."
Before his mother could reply he rose, ordered his horse, and as he
drew on his gloves, and left the room, looked over his shoulder, saying
indifferently, "That box of pictures from Munich is at the warehouse; I
directed Henry to go after it this morning. I will open it when I come
home."
A moment after he passed the window on horseback, and with a heavy sigh
Mrs. Murray dropped her head on her hand, compressing her lips, and
toying abstractedly with the sugar-tongs.
Edna watched the grave, troubled countenance for some seconds, and then
putting her hand on the flower-basket, she asked softly:
"Shall I dress the flower-pots?"
"Yes, child, in four rooms; this, the parlors, and the library. Always
cut the flowers very early, while the dew is on them."
Her eyes went back to the sugar-tongs, and Edna joyfully escaped from a
room whose restraints and associations were irksome.
Impressed by Hagar's vehement adjuration to keep out of Mr. Murray's
path, she avoided those portions of the house to which he seemed most
partial, and thus although they continued to meet at meals, no words
passed between them, after that brief salutation on the morning of
presentation. Very often she was painfully conscious that his searching
eyes scrutinized her; but though the blood mounted instantly to her
cheeks at such times, she never looked up--dreading his gaze as she
would that of a basilisk. One sultry afternoon she went into the park,
and threw herself down on the long grass, under a clump of cedars, near
which the deer and bison were quietly browsing, while the large white
merinoes huddled in the shade and blinked at the sun. Opening a
pictorial history of England, which she had selected from the library,
she spread it on the grass, and leaning her face in her palms, rested
her elbows on the ground, and began to read. Now and then she paused as
she turned a leaf, to look around at the beautiful animals, each one of
which might have served as a model for Landseer or Rosa Bonheur.
Gradually the languor of the atmosphere stole into her busy brain; as
the sun crept down the sky, her eyelids sunk with it, and very soon she
was fast asleep, with her head on the book, and her cheeks flushed
almost to a vermilion hue. From that brief summer dream she was aroused
by some sudden noise, and starting up, she saw the sheep bounding far
away, while a large, gaunt, wolfish, grey dog snuffed at her hands and
face.
Once before she had seen him chained near the stables, and Hagar told
her he was "very dangerous," and was never loosed except at night;
consequently, the expression of his fierce, red eyes, as he stood over
her, was well calculated to alarm her; but at that instant Mr. Murray's
voice thundered:
"Keep still! don't move! or you will be torn to pieces!" Then followed
some rapid interjections and vehement words in the same unintelligible
dialect which had so puzzled her once before, when her grandfather
could not control the horse he was attempting to shoe. The dog was
sullen and unmanageable, keeping his black muzzle close to her face,
and she grew pale with terror as she noticed that his shaggy breast and
snarling jaws were dripping with blood.
Leaping from his horse, Mr. Murray strode up, and with a quick movement
seized the heavy brass collar of the savage creature, hurled him back
on his haunches, and held him thus, giving vent the while to a volley
of oaths.
Pointing to a large, half-decayed elm branch, lying at a little
distance, he tightened his grasp on the collar, and said to the still
trembling girl:
"Bring me that stick, yonder."
Edna complied, and there ensued a scene of cursing, thrashing, and
howling, that absolutely sickened her. The dog writhed, leaped, whined,
and snarled; but the iron hold was not relaxed, and the face of the
master rivaled in rage that of the brute, which seemed as ferocious as
the hounds of Gian Maria Visconti, fed with human flesh, by Squarcia
Giramo. Distressed by the severity and duration of the punishment, and
without pausing to reflect, or to remember Hagar's warning, Edna
interposed:
"Oh! please don't whip him any more! It is cruel to beat him so!"
Probably he did not hear her, and the blows fell thicker than before.
She drew near, and, as the merciless arm was raised to strike, she
seized it with both hands, and swung on with her whole weight,
repeating her words. If one of his meek, frightened sheep had sprung at
his throat to throttle him, Mr. Murray would not have been more
astounded. He shook her off, threw her from him, but she carried the
stick in her grasp. "D--n you! how dare you interfere! What is it to
you if I cut his throat, which I mean to do!"
"That will be cruel and sinful, for he does not know it is wrong; and
besides, he did not bite me."
She spoke resolutely, and for the first time ventured to look straight
into his flashing eyes.
"Did not bite you! Did not he worry down and mangle one of my finest
Southdowns? It would serve you right for your impertinent meddling, if
I let him tear you limb from limb!"
"He knows no better," she answered, firmly.
"Then, by G-d, I will teach him! Hand me that stick!"
"Oh! please, Mr. Murray! You have nearly put out one of his eyes
already!"
"Give me the stick, I tell you, or I--"
He did not finish the threat, but held out his hand with a peremptory
gesture.
Edna gave one swift glance around, saw that there were no other
branches within reach, saw too that the dog's face was swelling and
bleeding from its bruises, and, bending the stick across her knee, she
snapped it into three pieces, which she threw as far as her strength
would permit. There was a brief pause, broken only by the piteous
howling of the suffering creature, and, as she began to realize what
she had done, Edna's face reddened, and she put her hands over her eyes
to shut out the vision of the enraged man, who was absolutely dumb with
indignant astonishment. Presently a sneering laugh caused her to look
through her fingers, and she saw "Ali," the dog, now released, fawning
and whining at his master's feet.
"Aha! The way of all natures, human as well as brute. Pet and fondle
and pamper them, they turn under your caressing hand and bite you; but
bruise and trample them, and instantly they are on their knees licking
the feet that kicked them. Begone! you bloodthirsty devil! I'll settle
the account at the kennel. Buffon is a fool, and Pennant was right
after all. The blood of the jackal pricks up your ears."
He spurned the crouching culprit, and as it slunk away in the direction
of the house, Edna found herself alone, face to face with the object of
her aversion, and she almost wished that the earth would open and
swallow her. Mr. Murray came close to her, held her hands down with one
of his, and placing the other under her chin, forced her to look at him.
"How dare you defy and disobey me?"
"I did not defy you, sir, but I could not help you to do what was wrong
and cruel."
"I am the judge of my actions, and neither ask your help nor intend to
permit your interference with what does not concern you."
"God is the judge of mine, sir, and if I had obeyed you, I should have
been guilty of all you wished to do with that stick. I don't want to
interfere, sir. I try to keep out of your way, and I am very sorry I
happened to come here this evening. I did not dream of meeting you; I
thought you had gone to town."
He read all her aversion in her eyes, which strove to avoid his, and
smiling gently, he continued: "You evidently think that I am the very
devil himself, walking the earth like a roaring lion. Mind your own
affairs hereafter, and when I give you a positive order, obey it, for I
am master here, and my word is law. Meddling or disobedience I neither
tolerate nor forgive. Do you understand me?"
"I shall not meddle, sir."
"That means that you will not obey me unless you think proper?"
She was silent, and her beautiful soft eyes filled with tears.
"Answer me!"
"I have nothing to say that you would like to hear."
"What? Out with it!"
"You would have a right to think me impertinent if I said any more."
"No, I swear I will not devour you, say what you may."
She shook her head, and the motion brought two tears down on her cheeks.
"Oh, you are one of the stubborn sweet saints, whose lips even
Torquemada's red-hot steel fingers could not open. Child, do you hate
or dread me most? Answer that question."
He took his own handkerchief and wiped away the tears.
"I am sorry for you, sir," she said in a low voice.
He threw his head back and laughed heartily.
"Sorry for me! For me! Me? The owner of as many thousands as there are
hairs on your head! Keep your pity for your poverty-stricken vagrant
self! Why the deuce are you sorry for me?"
She withdrew her hands, which he seemed to hold unconsciously, and
answered:
"Because, with all your money, you never will be happy."
"And what the d--l do I care for happiness? I am not such a fool as to
expect it; and yet after all, 'Out of the mouths of babes and
sucklings.' Pshaw! I am a fool nevertheless to waste words on you.
Stop! What do you think of my park, and the animals? I notice you often
come here."
"The first time I saw it I thought of Noah and the ark, with two of
every living thing; but an hour ago it seemed to me more like the
garden of Eden, where the animals all lay down together in peace,
before sin came into it."
"And Ali and I entered, like Satan, and completed the vision? Thank
you, considering the fact that you are on my premises, and know
something of my angelic, sanctified temper, I must say you indulge in
bold flights of imagery."
"I did not say that, sir."
"You thought it nevertheless. Don't be hypocritical! Is not that what
you thought of?"
She made no reply, and anxious to terminate an interview painfully
embarrassing to her, stepped forward to pick up the history which lay
on the grass.
"What book is that?"
She handed it to him, and the leaves happened to open at a picture
representing the murder of Becket. A scowl blackened his face as he
glanced at it, and turned away, muttering:
"Malice prepense! or the devil!"
At a little distance, leisurely cropping the long grass, stood his
favorite horse, whose arched forehead and peculiar mouse-color
proclaimed his unmistakable descent from the swift hordes that scour
the Kirghise steppes, and sanctioned the whim which induced his master
to call him "Tamerlane." As Mr. Murray approached his horse, Edna
walked away toward the house, fearing that he might overtake her; but
no sound of hoofs reached her ears, and looking back as she crossed the
avenue and entered the flower-garden, she saw horse and rider standing
where she left them, and wondered why Mr. Murray was so still, with one
arm on the neck of his Tartar pet, and his own head bent down on his
hand.
In reflecting upon what had occurred, she felt her repugnance increase,
and began to think that they could not live in the same house without
continual conflicts, which would force her to abandon the numerous
advantages now within her grasp. The only ray of hope darted through
her mind when she recalled his allusion to a contemplated visit to the
South Sea Islands, and the possibility of his long absence. Insensibly
her dislike of the owner extended to everything he handled, and much as
she had enjoyed the perusal of Dante, she determined to lose no time in
restoring the lost volume, which she felt well assured his keen eyes
would recognize the first time she inadvertently left it in the library
or the greenhouse. The doubt of her honesty, which he had expressed to
his mother, rankled in the orphan's memory, and for some days she had
been nerving herself to anticipate a discovery of the book by
voluntarily restoring it. The rencontre in the park by no means
diminished her dread of addressing him on this subject; but she
resolved that the rendition of Caesar's things to Caesar should take
place that evening before she slept.