"Ulpian, why do you look so grave and grieved? Does your letter
contain bad news?"
Miss Jane pushed back her spectacles and glanced anxiously at her
brother, who stood with his brows slightly knitted, twirling a
crumpled envelope between his fingers.
"It is not a letter, but a telegraphic dispatch, summoning me to the
death-bed of my best friend, Horace Manton."
"The man whose life you saved at Madeira?"
"Yes; and the person to whom, above all other men, I am most strongly
and tenderly attached. His constitution is so feeble that I have long
been uneasy about him; but the end has come even earlier than I
feared."
"Where does he live?"
"On the Hudson, a few miles above New York City. I have no time to
spare, for I shall take the train that leaves at one o'clock, and must
make some arrangement with Dr. Sheldon to attend my patients. Will it
trouble or tire you too much to pack my valise while I write a couple
of business letters? If so, I will call Salome to assist you."
"Trouble me, indeed! Nonsense, my dear boy; of course I will pack your
valise. Moreover, Salome is not at home. How long will you be
absent?"
"Probably a week or ten days,--possibly longer. If poor Horace
lingers, I shall remain with him."
"Wait one moment, Ulpian. Before you go I want to speak to you about
Salome."
"Well, Janet, I lend you my ears. Has the girl absolutely turned
pagan and set up an altar to Ceres, as she threatened some weeks
since? Take my word for the fact that she does not believe or mean
one half that she says, and is only amusing herself by trying to
discover how wide her audacious heresies can expand your dear
orthodox eyes. Expostulation and entreaty only feed her affected
eccentricities and skepticism, and if you will persistently and
quietly ignore them, they will shrivel as rapidly as a rank
gourd-vine, uprooted on an August day."
"Pooh! pooh! my dear boy. How you men do prate sometimes of
matters concerning which you are as ignorant as the yearling calves
and gabbling geese that I suppose your learned astronomers see
driven every day to pasture on that range of mountains in the
moon--Eratosthenes--that modern science pretends to have discovered,
and about which you read so marvellous a paper last week."
Miss Jane reverently clung to the dishonored remnants of the Ptolemaic
theory, and scouted the philosophy of Copernicus which she vehemently
averred was not worth "a pinch of snuff," else the water in the well
would surely run out once in every twenty-four hours. Now, as she
dived into the depths of her stocking-basket, collecting the socks
neatly darned and rolled over each other, her brother smiled, and
answered, good humoredly,--
"Dear Janet, I really have not time to follow you to the moon, nor to
prove to you that your astronomical doctrines have been dead and
decently buried for nearly three hundred years; but I should like to
hear what you desire to tell me with reference to Salome. What is the
matter now?"
"Nothing ails her, except a violent attack of industry, which has
lasted much longer than I thought possible; for, to tell you the truth
without stint or varnish, she certainly was the most sluggish piece of
flesh I ever undertook to manage. Study she would not, keep house she
could not, sewing gave her the headache, and knitting made her
cross-eyed; but, behold! she has suddenly found out that her pretty
little pink palms were made for something better than propping her
peach-bloom cheeks. A few days ago I accidentally discovered that she
was sitting up until long after midnight, and when I questioned her
closely, she finally confessed that she had entered into a contract to
furnish a certain amount of embroidery every month. Bless the child!
can you guess what she intends to do with the money? Hoard it up in
order to rent a couple of rooms, where she can take Jessie and
Stanley to live with her. Ulpian, it is a praiseworthy aim, you must
admit."
"Eminently commendable, and I respect and admire the motive that
incites her to such a laborious course. At present she is too young
and inexperienced to take entire charge of the children, and I know
nothing of your plans or intentions concerning her future; but, let me
assure you, dear Jane, that I will cordially cooperate in all your
schemes for aiding her and providing a home for them, and my purse
shall not prove a laggard in the race with yours. Recently I have been
revolving a plan for their benefit, but am too much hurried just now
to give you the details. When I return we will discuss it _in
extenso_."
"You know that I ascribe great importance to blood, but strange as
it may appear, that girl Salome has always tugged hard at my
heart-strings, as if our proud old blood beat in her veins; and
sometimes I fancy there must be kinship hidden behind the years, or
buried in some unknown grave."
"Amuse yourself while I am away by digging about the genealogical
tree of the house of Grey, and, if you can trace a fibre that
ramifies in the miller's family, I will gladly bow to my own blood
wherever I find it, and claim cousinship. Meantime, my dear sister,
do keep a corner of your loving heart well swept and dusted for your
errant sailor-boy."
He hastily kissed her cheek and turned away to write letters, while
she went into the adjoining room to pack his clothes.
When Salome returned from town, whither she had gone to carry a
package of finished work and obtain a fresh supply, she found Miss
Jane alone in the dining-room, and wearing a dejected expression on
her usually cheerful countenance.
"Did Ulpian tell you good-by?"
"No, I have not seen him. Where has he gone?"
"To New York."
The long walk and sultry atmosphere had unwontedly flushed the girl's
face, and the damp hair clung in glossy rings to her brow; but, as
Miss Jane spoke, the blood ebbed from cheeks and lips, and sweeping
back the dark tresses that seemed to oppress her, she asked,
shiveringly,--
"Is Dr. Grey going back to sea?"
"Oh no, child! An old friend is very ill, and telegraphed for him. Sit
down, dear,--you look faint."
"Thank you, I don't wish to sit down, and there is nothing the matter
with me. When will he come home?"
"I can not tell precisely, as his stay is contingent upon the
condition of his friend."
"Is it a man or woman whom he has gone to see?"
The astonishment painted on Miss Jane's face would have been ludicrous
to a careless observer, less interested than the orphan in her slow
and deliberate reply.
"A man, of course."
"Did he tell you so?"
"Certainly. He went to see Mr. Horace Manton, with whom he was
associated while abroad. But suppose it had been some winsome,
brown-eyed witch of a woman, instead of a dying man, what then?"
"Then you would have lost your brother, and I my French pronouncing
dictionary,--that is all. Did he leave any message about my grammar
and exercises?"
"No, dear; but he started so hurriedly--so unexpectedly--he had not
time for such trifles. Where are you going?"
"To put away my bonnet and bundle, and look after Stanley, who is
romping with the kittens on the lawn."
The old lady laid down her knitting, leaned her elbows on the arms of
her rocking-chair, and, clasping her hands, bowed her chin upon them,
while a half-stifled sigh escaped her.
"Mischief,--mischief, where I meant only kindness! I sowed good seed,
and reap thistles and brambles! My charity-cake turns out miserable
dough! But how could I possibly foresee that the child would be such a
simpleton? What right has she to be so unnecessarily interested in my
brother, who is old enough to have been her father? It is unnatural,
absurd, and altogether unpardonable in Salome to be guilty of such
presumptuous nonsense; and, of course, it is not in the least my
fault, for the possibility of this piece of mischief never once
occurred to me! True, she is as old as Ulpian's mother was when father
married her; but then Mrs. Grey was not at all in love with her
white-haired husband, and had set her affections solely on that
Mercer-Street house, with marble steps and plate-glass windows. How do
I know that, after all, Salome is not in love with Ulpian's fortune
instead of the dear boy's blue eyes, and handsome hair, and splendid
teeth? However, I ought not to think so harshly of the child, for I
have no cause to consider her calculating and selfish. Poor thing! if
she really cares for him there are breakers ahead of her, for I am
sure that he is as far from falling in love with her as I would be
with the ghost of my great-grandfather's uncle. Thank Providence, all
this troublesome, mischievous, Lucifer machinery of love and marriage
is shut out of heaven, where we shall be as the angels are. Ah,
Salome! I fear you are a giddy young idiot, and that I am a blind old
imbecile, and I wish from the bottom of my heart you had never
darkened my doors."
The quiet current of Miss Jane's secluded life had never been ruffled
by a serious _affaire du coeur_; consequently she indulged little
charity towards those episodes, which displayed what she considered
the most humiliating weakness of her sex.
While puzzling over the best method of extricating her _protegee_ from
the snare into which she was disposed to apprehend that her own
well-meant but mistaken kindness had betrayed her, she saw an unsealed
note lying beneath the table, and, by the aid of her crutch, drew it
within reach of her fingers. A small sheet of paper, carelessly folded
and addressed to Salome, merely contained these words,--
"I congratulate you, my young friend, on the correctness of your
French themes, which I leave in the drawer of the library-table.
When I return I will examine those prepared during my absence;
and, in the interim, remain,
"Very respectfully,
"ULPIAN GREY."
Miss Jane wiped her glasses, and read the note twice; then held it
between her thumb and third finger, and debated the expediency of
changing its destination. Her delicate sense of honor revolted at the
first suggestion of interference, but an intense aversion to
"love-scrapes" finally strengthened her prudential inclination to
crush this one in its incipiency; and she deliberately tore the paper
into shreds, which she tossed out of the window.
"If Ulpian only had his eyes open he would never have scribbled one
line to her; and, since I know what I know, and see what I see, it is
my duty to take the responsibility of destroying all fuel within reach
of a flame that may prove as dangerous as a torch in a hay-rick."
Limping into the library, she took from the drawer the two books
containing French exercises and laid them in a conspicuous place on
the table, where they could not fail to arrest the attention of their
owner; after which she resumed her knitting, consoling herself with
the reflection that she had taken the first step towards smothering
the spark that threatened the destruction of all her benevolent
schemes.
Up and down, under the spreading trees in the orchard, wandered
Salome, anxious to escape scrutiny, and vaguely conscious that she had
reached the cross-roads in her life, where haste or inadvertence might
involve her in inextricable difficulties.
She was neither startled, nor shocked, nor mortified, that the
unceremonious departure of the master of the house stabbed her heart
with pangs that made her firm lips writhe, for she had long been
cognizant of the growth of feelings whose discovery had so completely
astounded Miss Jane.
The orphan had not eagerly watched and listened for the sight of his
face--the sound of his voice--without fully comprehending herself;
for, however ingeniously and indefatigably women may mask their hearts
from public gaze and comment, they do not mock their own reason by
such flimsy shams, and Salome could find no prospect of gain in
playing a game of brag with her inquisitive soul.
In the quiet orchard, where all things seemed drowsy--where the only
spectators were the mellowing apples that reddened the boughs above
her, and her sole auditors the brown partridges that nestled in the
tall grass, and the shy cicadae ambushed under the clover leaves--her
pent-up pain and disappointment bubbled over in a gush of passionate
words.
"Gone without giving me a syllable, a word, a touch! Gone, for an
indefinite period, without even a cold 'good-by, Salome!' You call
yourself a Christian, Dr. Grey, and yet you are cruel, now and then,
and make me writhe like a worm on a fish-hook! He told Stanley he
would return in two or three weeks, perhaps sooner,--but I know
better. I have a dull monitor here that says it will be a long, dreary
time, before I see him again. A wall of ice is rising to divide
us--but it shall not! it shall not! I will have my own! I will look
into his calm eyes! I will touch his soft, warm, white palms! I will
hear his steady, low, clear voice, that makes music in my ears and
heaven in my heart! It is three months since he shook hands with me,
but all time cannot remove the feeling from my fingers; and some day I
can cling to his hand and lean my cheek against it,--and who dare
dispute my right? He says he never loved any woman! I heard him tell
his sister he had yet to meet the woman whom he could marry,--and, if
truth lingers anywhere in this world of sin, it finds a sanctuary in
his soul! He never loved any woman! Thank God! I can't afford to doubt
it. No one but his sister has touched his lips, or his noble,
beautiful forehead. How I envied little Jessie when he put his arm
around her and stooped and laid his cheek on hers. Oh, Dr. Grey,
nobody else will ever love you as I do! I know I am unworthy, but I
will make myself good and great to match you! I know I am beneath you,
but I will climb to your proud height,--and, so help me God, I will be
all that your lofty standard demands! He does not care for me
now,--does not even think of me; but I must be patient and merit his
notice, for my own folly sank me in his good opinion. When these
apples were pale, pink blossoms, I dreaded his coming, and hoped the
vessel would be wrecked; now, ere they are ripe, I am disposed to
curse the cause of his temporary absence and think myself ill-used
that no farewell privileges were granted me. Now I can understand why
people find comfort in praying for those they love; for what else can
I do but pray while he is away? Oh, I shall not, cannot, will not,
miss my way to heaven if he gets there before me!"
In utter abandonment she threw herself down in the long yellow
sedge-grass,--frightening a whole covey of gossiping young partridges
and a couple of meek doves, all of which whirred away to an adjacent
pea-field, leaving her with her face buried in her hands, and watched
by trembling mute crickets and cicadae.
On the topmost twig of the tallest tree a mocking-bird poised himself,
and sympathetically poured out his vesper canticle,--a song of
condolence to the prostrate figure who, just then, would have
preferred the echo of a man's deep voice to all Pergolese's strains.
After a little while pitying Venus swung her golden globe in among the
apple-boughs, peeping compassionately at her luckless votary; and,
finally, in the violet west,--
"Two silver beacons sphered in the skies,
Eve in her cradle opening her eyes."
Two weeks dragged themselves away without bringing any tidings of
the absent master; but, towards the close of the third, a brief
letter informed his sister that the invalid friend was still alive,
though no hope of his recovery was entertained, and that it was
impossible to fix any period for the writer's return. Salome asked
no questions, but the eager, hungry expression, with which she
eyed the letter as it lay on the top of the stocking-basket,
touched Miss Jane's tender heart; and, knowing that it contained no
allusion to the orphan, she put it into her hand, and noticed the
cloud of disappointment that gathered over her features as she
perused and refolded it. Another week--monotonous, tedious, almost
interminable--crept by, and one morning as Salome passed the
post-office she inquired for letters, and received one post-marked
New York and addressed to Miss Jane.
Hurrying homeward with the precious missive, her pace would well-nigh
have distanced Hermes, and the dusty winding road seemed to mock her
with lengthening curves while she pressed on; but at last she reached
the gate, sped up the avenue, and, pausing a moment at the threshold
to catch her breath and appear _nonchalant_, she demurely entered Miss
Jane's apartment. The only occupant was a servant sewing near the
window, and who, in reply to an eager question, informed Salome that
the mistress had gone to spend the day with a friend whose residence
was six miles distant.
The girl bit her lip until the blood started, and, to conceal her
chagrin, took refuge in the parlor, where the quiet dimness offered a
covert. Locking the door, she sat down in one of the cushioned
rocking-chairs and looked at the letter lying between her fingers. The
gilt clock on the mantel uttered a dull, clicking sound, and a little
green and gold-colored bird hopped out and "cuckooed" ten times. Miss
Jane would not probably return before seven, possibly eight o'clock,
and what could be done to strangle those intervening nine hours?
The blood, heated by exercise and impatience, throbbed fiercely in her
temples and thumped heavily at her heart, producing a half-suffocating
sensation; and, in her feverish anxiety, the doom of Damiens appeared
tolerable in comparison with the torturing suspense of nine hours on
the rack.
The envelope was an ordinary white one, merely sealed with a solution
of gum arabic, and dexterous fingers could easily open and reclose it
without fear of detection, especially by eyes so dim and uncertain as
those for which it had been addressed. A damp cloth laid upon the
letter would in five minutes prove an _open sesame_ to its coveted
contents, and a legion of fiends patted the girl's tingling fingers
and urged her to this prompt and feasible relief from her goading
impatience. Secure from intrusion and beyond the possibility of
discovery, she turned the envelope up and down and over, examining the
seal; and the amber gleams lying _perdu_ under the shadows of her
pupils rayed out, glowing with a baleful Lucifer light, as infallibly
indicative of evil purposes as the sudden kindling in a crouching
cat's or cougar's gaze, just as they spring upon their prey.
It was a mighty temptation, cunningly devised and opportunely
presented, and six months ago her parley with the imps of Apollyon who
contrived it would not have lasted five minutes; but, in some natures,
love for a human being will work marvels which neither the fear of
God, nor the hope of heaven, nor yet the promptings of self-respect
have power to accomplish.
Now while Salome dallied with the temper and gave audience to the
clamors of her rebellious heart, she looked up and met the earnest
gaze of a pair of sunny blue eyes in a picture that hung directly
opposite.
It was an admirable portrait of Dr. Grey, clad in full uniform as
surgeon in the U.S. Navy, and painted when he was twenty-eight years
old. Up at that calm, cloudless countenance, the girl looked
breathlessly, spell-bound as if in the presence of a reproving angel;
and, after some seconds had elapsed, she hurled the unopened letter
across the room, and lifted her hands appealingly,--
"No,--no! I did not--I cannot--I will not act so basely! I must not
soil fingers that should be pure enough to touch yours. I was sorely
tempted, my beloved; but, thank God, your blessed blue eyes saved me.
It is hard to endure nine hours of suspense, but harder still to bear
the thought that I have stooped to a deed that would sink me one iota
in your good opinion. I will root out the ignoble tendencies of my
nature, and keep my heart and lips and hands stainless,--hold them
high above the dishonorable things that you abhor, and live during
your absence as if your clear eyes took cognizance of every detail.
Yea,--search me as you will, dear deep-blue eyes,--I shall not shrink;
for the rule of my future years shall be to scorn every word, thought,
and deed that I would not freely bare to the scrutiny of the man whose
respect I would sooner die than forfeit. Oh, my darling, it were
easier for me to front the fiercest flames of Tophet than face your
scorn! I can wait till Miss Jane sees fit to show me the letter, and,
if it bring good news of your speedy coming, I shall have my reward;
if not, why should I hasten to meet a bitter disappointment which may
be lagging out of mercy to me?"
Picking up the letter as suspiciously as if it had been dropped by
the Prince of Darkness on the crest of Quarantina, she stepped upon a
table and inserted the corner of the envelope in the crevice between
the canvas and the portrait-frame, repeating the while a favorite
passage that she had first heard from Dr. Grey's lips,--
"'God meant me good too, when he hindered me
From saying "yes" this morning. I say no,--no!
I tie up "no" upon His altar-horns,
Quite out of reach of perjury!'"
Young though she was, experience had taught her that the most
effectual method of locking the wheels of time consisted in sitting
idly down to watch and count their revolutions; consequently, she
hastened upstairs and betook herself vigorously to the work of
embroidering a _parterre_ of flowers on the front breadth of an
infant's christening dress which her employer had promised should be
completed before the following Sabbath.
Stab the laggard seconds as she might with her busy needle, the day
was drearily long; and few genuine cuckoo-carols have been listened to
with such grateful rejoicing as greeted those metallic gutturals that
once in every sixty minutes issued from the throat of the gaudy
automaton caged in the gilt clock.
True, nine hours are intrinsically nine hours under all circumstances,
whether decapitation or coronation awaits their expiration; but to the
doomed victim or the heir-apparent they appear relatively shorter or
longer. At last Salome saw that the shadows on the grass were
lengthening. Her head ached, her eyes burned from steady application
to her trying work, and laying aside the cambric, she leaned against
the window-facing and looked out over the lawn, where Time seemed to
have fallen asleep in the mild autumn sunshine.
How sweet and welcome was the distance-muffled sound of tinkling
cow-bells, and the low bleating of homeward-strolling flocks, wending
their way across the hills through which the road crawled like a dusty
gray serpent.
A noisy club of black-birds that had been holding an indignation
meeting in the top of a walnut tree near the gate, adjourned to the
sycamore grove that overshadowed the barn in the rear of the house;
and Stanley's pigeons, which had been cooing and strutting in the
avenue, went to roost in the pretty painted pagoda Dr. Grey had
erected for their comfort. Finally, the low-swung, heavy carriage,
with its stout dappled horses, gladdened Salome's strained eyes; and,
soon after, she heard the thump of Miss Jane's crutches and her
cheerful voice, asking,--
"Where are the children? Tell them I have come home. Bless me, the
house is as dark as a dungeon! Rachel, have we neither lamps nor
candles?"
The orphan stole down the steps, climbed upon the table in the parlor,
and, seizing the letter, hurried into the dining-room, where, quite
exhausted by the fatigue of the day, the old lady lay on the sofa.
She held out her hand and drew the girl's face within reach of her
lips, saying,--
"My child, I am afraid you have had rather a lonely day."
"Decidedly the loneliest and longest I ever spent, and I believe I
never was half so glad to see you come home as just now when the
carriage stopped at the door."
Ah, what hypocrisy is sometimes innocently masked by the earnest
utterance of the truth! And what marvels of industry are accomplished
by self-love, which seeks more assiduously than bees for the honied
drops of flattery that feed its existence!
Miss Jane was pardonably proud that her presence was so essential to
the happiness of the orphan whom she fondly loved, and gratification
spread a pleasant smile over her worn features.
"Where is Stanley? The child ought not to be out so late."
"He went down to the sheep-pen to count the lambs and look after one
that broke its leg yesterday. Miss Jane, are you too much fatigued to
read a letter which I found this morning in your box at the
post-office?"
"Is it from Ulpian? I was wondering to-day why I did not hear from
him. Dear me, what have I done with my spectacles? They are the
torment of my life, for the instant I take them off my nose they seem
to find wings. Give me the letter, and see whether I left my glasses
on the bed where I put my bonnet."
Salome went into the next room and unsuccessfully searched the bed,
bureau, table, and wardrobe; and in an agony of impatience, returned
to the invalid.
"You must have lost them before you came home; I can't find them
anywhere. Let me read the letter to you."
"No; I must have my glasses. Perhaps I dropped them in the carriage.
Send word to the driver to look for them. It was very careless in me
to lose them, but I am growing so forgetful. Rachel, do hunt for my
spectacles."
Salome ground her teeth to suppress a cry of vexation; and, to conceal
her impatience, joined heartily in the search.
Finally she found the glasses on the front steps, where they had
fallen when their owner left the carriage; and, feeling that adverse
fate could no longer keep her in suspense, she hurried into the house
and adjusted them on Miss Jane's eagle nose.
Conscious that she was fast losing control over the nerves that were
quivering from long-continued tension, Salome stepped to the open
window and stood waiting. Would the old lady never finish the perusal?
The minutes seemed hours, and the pulsing of the blood in the girl's
ears sounded like muttering thunder.
Miss Jane sighed heavily,--cleared her throat, and sighed again.
"It is very sad, indeed! It is too bad,--too bad!"
Salome turned around, and exclaimed, savagely,--
"Why can't you speak out? What is the matter? What has happened?"
"Ulpian's friend is dead."
"Thank God!"
"For shame! How can you be so heartless?"
"If the man could not recover I should think you would be glad that
he is at rest, and that your brother can come home."
"But the worst of the matter is that Ulpian is not coming home. Mr.
Manton wished him to act as guardian for his daughter, who is in
Europe, and Ulpian will sail in the next steamer for England, to
attend to some business connected with the estate. It is too
provoking, isn't it? He says it is impossible to tell when we shall
see him again."
There was no answer, and, when Miss Jane wiped her eyes and looked
around, she saw the girl tottering towards the door, groping her way
like one blind.
"Salome,--come here, child!"
But the figure disappeared in the hall, and when the moonlight looked
into the orphan's chamber the soft rays showed a girlish form kneeling
at the window, with a white face drenched by tears, and quivering lips
that moaned in feeble, broken accents,--
"God help me! I might have known it, for I had a presentiment of
terrible trouble when he went away. How can I trust God and be
patient, while the Atlantic raves and surges between me and my idol?
After all, it was an angel of mercy whose tender white hands held
back this bitter blow for nine hours. Gone to Europe, and not one
word--not one line--to me! Oh, my darling! you are trampling under
your feet the heart that loves you better than everything else in the
universe,--better than life, and its hopes of heaven!"