"Dr. Grey, who is that beautiful girl to whom Muriel introduced me
this morning? I was so absorbed in admiration of her face that I lost
her name."
As he spoke, Mr. Gerard Granville struck the ashes from his cigar, and
walked up to the table where Dr. Grey was sealing some letters.
"Her name is Salome Owen, and she is my sister's adopted child."
"What is her age, if I may be pardoned such impertinent queries?"
"I believe she has entered her eighteenth year."
"She is a regal beauty, and shows proud blood as plainly as any
princess."
"Take care, Granville; imagination has cantered away with your
penetration. Salome's family were coarse and common, though doubtless
honest people. Her father was a drunken miller, who died in an attack
of delirium tremens, and left his children as a legacy to the county.
I merely mention these deplorable facts to show you that your boasted
penetration is not entirely infallible."
"Miller or millionaire,--the girl would grace any court in Europe, and
only lacks a dash of _aplomb_ to make her irresistible. I have seen
few faces that attracted and interested me so powerfully."
"Yes, she certainly is very handsome; but I do not agree with you in
thinking that she lacks _aplomb_. Granville, if you have finished your
cigar, we will adjourn to the parlor, where the ladies are taking
their tea."
Dr. Grey collected his letters and walked away, followed by his guest;
and, a moment after, a low, scornful laugh, floated in through the
window which opened on the little flower-garden.
Miss Jane had requested Salome to gather the seeds of some apple and
nutmeg geraniums that were arranged on a shelf near the western window
of the library; and, while stooping over the china jars, and screened
from observation by a spreading lilac-bush, the girl had heard the
conversation relative to herself.
Excessive vanity had never been numbered among the faults that marred
her character, but Dr. Grey's indifference to personal attractions,
which strangers admitted so readily, piqued, and thoroughly aroused a
feeling that was destined to bring countless errors and misfortunes in
its train; and, henceforth,--
"There was not a high thing out of heaven,
Her pride o'ermastereth not."
Hitherto the love of one man had been the only boon she craved of
heaven; but now, conscious that the darling hope of her life was
crushed and withering under Dr. Grey's relentless feet, she resolved
that the admiration of the world should feed her insatiable hunger,--a
maddening hunger which one tender word from his true lips would have
assuaged,--but which she began to realize he would never utter.
During the last eighteen hours, a mournful change had taken place in
her heart, where womanly tenderness was rapidly retreating before
unwomanly hate, bitterness, and blasphemous defiance; and she laughed
scornfully at the "idiocy" that led her to weary heaven with prayers
for the preservation of a life that must ever run as an asymptote to
her own. How earnestly she now lamented an escape, for which she had
formerly exhausted language in expressing her gratitude; and how much
better it would have been if she could mourn him as dead, instead of
jealously watching him,--living without a thought of her.
All the girlish sweetness and freshness of her nature passed away, and
an intolerable weariness and disappointment usurped its place. Since
her acquaintance with Dr. Grey, he had been her sole _Melek Taous_,
adored with Yezidi fervor; but to-day she overturned, and strove to
revile and desecrate the idol, to whose vacant pedestal she lifted a
colossal vanity. Her bruised, numb heart, seemed incapable of loving
any one, or anything, and a hatred and contempt of her race took
possession of her.
The changing hues of Muriel's tell-tale face when Mr. Granville
arrived, and the excessive happiness that could not be masked, had not
escaped Salome's lynx vision; and very accurately she conjectured the
real condition of affairs, relative to which Dr. Grey had never
uttered a syllable. Bent upon mischief, she had, malice prepense,
dressed herself with unusual care, and arranged her hair in a new
style of coiffure, which proved very becoming.
Now, as the hum of conversation mingled with the sound of Muriel's
low, soft laugh, reached her from the parlor, her chatoyant eyes
kindled, and she hastily went in to join the merry circle.
"Come here, child, and sit by me," said Miss Jane, making room on the
sofa, as her _protegee_ entered.
"Thank you, I prefer a seat near the window."
Dr. Grey sat in a large chair in the centre of the floor, with Muriel
on an ottoman close to him, and Mr. Granville leaned over the back of
the chair, while Miss Dexter shared Miss Jane's old-fashioned ample
sofa. In full view of the whole party, Salome seated herself at a
little distance, and, with admirably assumed nonchalance, began to
enclose and sew up the geranium-seeds, in some pretty, colored paper
bags, prepared for the purpose.
After a few minutes Mr. Granville sauntered across the room, looked at
the cuckoo clock, and finally went over to the window, where he leaned
against the facing and watched Salome's slender white fingers.
She was dressed in a delicate muslin, striped with narrow pink lines,
and flounced at the bottom of the skirt, and wore a ribbon sash of the
same color; while in the broad braids of hair raised high on her head,
she had fastened a superb half-blown Baron Provost rose, just where
two long glossy curls crept down. The puffed sleeves, scarcely
reaching the elbows, displayed the finely rounded white arms, and the
exactness with which the airy muslin fitted her form, showed its
symmetrical outline to the greatest advantage.
Muriel touched her guardian, and whispered,--
"Did you ever see Salome look so beautiful? Her coiffure to-night is
almost Parisian, and how very becoming!"
Dr. Grey was studying the innocent, happy countenance of his
unsuspecting ward, and he could not repress a sigh, when, turning his
eyes towards Salome, he noticed the undisguised admiration in Mr.
Granville's earnest gaze.
A nameless dread made him take Muriel's hand and lead her to the
piano.
"Play something for me. I am music-hungry."
"Is Saul sad to-night?" she asked, smiling up at him.
"A little fatigued and perplexed, and anxious to have his cares
exorcised by the magic of your fingers."
With womanly tact she selected a _fantasia_ which Mr. Granville had
often pronounced the gem of her _repertoire_, and momentarily expected
to hear his whispered thanks; but page after page was turned, and
still her lover did not approach the piano, where Dr. Grey stood with
folded arms and slightly contracted brows. Muriel played brilliantly,
and was pardonably proud of her proficiency, which Mr. Granville had
confessed first attracted his attention; and to-night, when the piece
was concluded and she commenced a _Polonaise_, she looked over her
shoulder hoping to meet a grateful, fond glance. But his eyes were
riveted on the fair rosy face at his side, and his betrothed bit her
pouting lip and made sundry blunders.
As she rose from the piano-stool, Mr. Granville exclaimed,--
"Miss Muriel, you love music so well that I trust you will add your
persuasions to mine, and induce Miss Owen to sing for us, as she
declares she is comparatively a tyro in instrumental music, and would
not venture to perform in your presence."
"She has never sung for me, but I hope she will not refuse your
request. Salome, will you not oblige us?"
Muriel's eyes were dim with tears, but her sweet voice did not
falter.
"I was not aware that you sang at all," said Miss Dexter, looking up
from a mat which she was crocheting.
"She has a fine voice, but is very obstinate in declining to use it.
Come, Salome, don't be childish, dear. Sing something," coaxed Miss
Jane.
The girl waited a few seconds, hoping that another voice would swell
the general request, but the lips she loved best were mute; and,
suddenly tossing the paper bags from her lap, she rose and moved
proudly to the piano.
"Miss Manton, will you or Miss Dexter be so kind as to play my
accompaniment for me? I am neither Liszt, nor Thalberg, and the vocal
gymnastics are all that I can venture to undertake."
Muriel promptly resumed her seat before the instrument, and played the
symphony of an aria from "Favorite," which Salome placed on the
piano-board. Barilli had assured her that she rendered this fiery
burst of rage and hatred as well as he had ever heard it; and, folding
her fingers tightly around each other she drew herself up to her full
height, and sang it.
Mr. Granville leaned against the piano, and Dr. Grey was standing in
the recess of the window when the song began, but ere long he moved
forward unconsciously and paused, with his hand on his ward's shoulder
and his eyes riveted in astonishment on Salome's countenance. She knew
that the approbation and delight of this small audience was worth all
the _encore_ shouts of the millions who might possibly applaud her in
future years; and if ever a woman's soul poured itself out through her
lips, all that was surging in Salome's heart became visible to the man
who listened as if spell-bound.
Miss Jane grasped her crutches, and rose, leaning upon them, while a
look of mingled joy and wonder made her sallow face eloquent; and Miss
Dexter dropped her ivory needle, and gazed in amazement at the singer.
Muriel forgot her chords,--turned partially around, and watched in
breathless surprise the marvelous execution of several difficult
passages, where the rich voice seemed to linger while improvising
sparkling turns and trills that were strangely intricate, and
indescribably sweet.
As she approached the close of her song, Salome became temporarily
oblivious of pride, wounded vanity, and murdered hopes,--forgot all
but the man at her side, for whose commendation she had toiled so
patiently, and turning her flushed, radiant face, toward him, her
magnificent eyes aflame with triumph looked appealingly up at his, and
her hands were extended till they rested on his arm.
So the song ended, and for a moment the parlor was still as a tomb.
Dr. Grey silently enclosed the girl's two hands in his, and, for the
first time since she had known him, Salome saw tears swimming in his
grave, beautiful eyes, and noticed a slight tremor on his usually
steady lips.
"There is nothing in the old world or the new comparable to that
voice, and I flatter myself I speak _ex cathedra_. Miss Owen, you will
soon have the public at your feet."
She did not heed Mr. Granville's enthusiastic eulogy. She saw nothing
but Dr. Grey's admiring eyes,--felt nothing but the close warm clasp,
in which her folded fingers lay,--and her ears ached for the sound of
his deep voice.
"Salome, I shall not soon forgive you for keeping me in ignorance of
the existence of the finest voice it has ever been my good fortune to
hear. Knowing your adopted brother's fondness for music, how could you
hoard your treasure so parsimoniously, denying him such happiness as
you might have conferred?"
He untwined her fingers, which clung tenaciously to his, and saw that
the blood ebbed out of cheeks and lips as she listened to his
carefully guarded language. Silently she obeyed Miss Jane's summons to
the sofa.
"You perverse witch! Where have you been practising all these months,
that have made you such a wonderful cantatrice? Child, answer me."
"I did not wish to annoy the household by thrumming on the piano and
afflicting their ears with false flat scales, consequently I followed
the birds, and rehearsed with them, under the trees, and down on the
edge of the sea. If you like my voice I am glad, because I have
studied to perfect it."
"Like it, indeed! As if I could avoid liking it! But you must have had
good training. Who taught you?"
"I took lessons from Barilli."
"Aha,--Ulpian! Now you can understand how he contrives to feed his
family. Salome's sewing-money explains it all. Kiss me, dear. I always
believed there was more in you than came to the surface."
"Miss Owen ought to go upon the stage. Such gifts as hers belong to
the public, who would soon crown her queen of song."
Salome glanced at the handsome stranger, and bowed.
"It is my purpose, sir, to dedicate myself and future to the Opera,
where I trust I shall not utterly fail, as I have been for a year
studying with reference to this step."
A bomb-shell falling in that quiet circle, would scarcely have
startled its members more effectually; and, anxious to avoid comment,
Salome quitted the parlor and ran out on the lawn.
After awhile she heard Muriel's skilful touch on the piano, and, when
an hour had elapsed, the echo of voices died away, and soon a profound
silence seemed to reign over the house.
The hot blood was coursing thick and fast in her veins, and evil
purposes brooded darkly over her oppressed and throbbing heart. She
was thoroughly cognizant of the intense admiration with which Mr.
Granville regarded her, and to-night she had compared his handsome
face with the older, graver, and less regular features of Dr. Grey,
and wondered why the latter was so much more fascinating. Her beauty
transcended Muriel's, and it would prove an easy task to supplant her
in the affections of her not very ardent lover. Life in Paris, spiced
with the political intrigues incident to diplomatic circles, would
divert her thoughts, and might possibly make the coming years
endurable. Was the game worth the candle? No thought of Muriel's
misery entered for an instant into this entirely sordid calculation,
or would have deterred her even momentarily, had it presented itself
in expostulation. The girl's heart had suddenly grown callous, and her
hand would have ruthlessly smitten down any object that dared to cross
her path, or retard the accomplishment of her schemes. Weary at last
of pacing the dim starlit avenue, and yet too wretched to think of
sleeping, she re-entered the house, and cautiously locking the door,
threw herself into a corner of the parlor sofa, which stood just
beneath the portrait she so often studied.
If she had not at this juncture been completely absorbed in gazing
upon it, she might have seen the original, who soon rose and came
forward from the shadow of the curtains.
"Salome, I wish to make you my confidante,--to tell you something
which I have not yet mentioned even to Janet. Can I trust you, little
sister?"
Resting against the arm of the sofa, he looked intently into her face,
reading its perturbed lines.
"I presume you are amusing yourself by tantalizing my curiosity, as
your experiments appear to have thoroughly satisfied you that I am
utterly unworthy of trust. I follow the flattering advice you were so
kind as to give me some time since, and make no promises, which
shatter like crystal under the hammer of the first temptation. You
see, sir, you are teaching me to be cautious."
"You are teaching yourself lessons in dissimulation and maliciousness,
that you will heartily rue some day, but your repentance will come too
tardily to mend the mischief."
She tried to screen her countenance, but he was in no mood for
trifling, and putting his palm under her chin, forced her to submit to
his scrutiny.
"Salome, if I did not cherish a strong faith in the latent generosity
of your soul, I would not come to you as I do now to offer confidence,
and demand it in return."
She guessed his meaning, and her eyes glowed with all the baleful
light that he had hoped was extinguished forever.
"Dr. Grey makes a grace of necessity, and a pretence of confiding that
which has ceased to be a secret. Is such his boasted candor and
honesty?"
"If I believed that you were already acquainted with what I propose
to divulge, I would not fritter away my time in appealing to a
nobility of feeling which that fact alone would prove the hopelessness
of my ever finding in you."
He felt her face grow hot, and for an instant her eyes drooped before
his, stern and almost threatening.
"Well, sir; I wait for your confidential disclosures. Is there a Guy
Fawkes, or Titus Oates, plotting against the peace and prosperity of
the house of Grey?"
"Verily I am disposed to apprehend that there may be."
She endeavored to wrench her face from his hand, but he held it
firmly, and continued,--
"I wish to say to you that Muriel is very sensitive, and I hope that
during Mr. Granville's visit, you will try to be as considerate and
courteous as possible, to both. Salome, Gerard Granville has asked
Muriel to be his wife, and she has promised to marry him at the
expiration of a year."
The girl laughed derisively, and exclaimed,--
"Pray, Dr. Grey, be so good as to indulge me with your motive in
furnishing this piece of information?"
"Your astuteness forbids the possibility of any doubt with reference
to my motives,--which are, explicitly, anxiety for Muriel's happiness,
and for the preservation of your integrity and self-respect."
"What jeopardizes either?"
"Your heartless, contemptible vanity, which tempts you to demand a
homage and incense that should be offered only where it is due,--at
another, and I grieve to add, a purer shrine."
"Ah! My unpardonable sin consists in having braided my black locks,
and made myself comely! If you will procure an authentic portrait of
the Witch of Endor, I will do proper penance by likening my appearance
thereunto. Poor little rose! Can't you open your pink lips and cry
_peccavi_? Come down, sole ally and accomplice of my heinous vanity,
and plead for me, and make the _amende honorable_ to this grim
guardian of Miss Muriel's peace!"
She snatched the drooping rose from her hair, and tossed it at his
feet.
"Salome, you forget yourself!"
His stern displeasure rendered her reckless, and she continued,--
"True, sir. I did forget that the poor miller's child had no right to
obtrude her comeliness in the presence of the banker's daughter. I
confess my 'high crime and misdemeanor' against the pet of fortune,
and await my condign punishment. Is it your sovereign will that I
shear my shining locks like royal Berenice, and offer them in
propitiation? Or, does it seem 'good, meet, and your bounden duty,' to
have me promptly inoculated with small-pox, for the destruction of my
skin, which is unjustifiably smoother and clearer than--"
"Hush, hush!"
He laid his hand over her lips, and, for a while, there was an awkward
pause.
"If it were only possible to inoculate your heart with a little
genuine womanly charity,--if it were possible to persuade you to adopt
as your rule of conduct that golden one which Christ gave as a patent
of peace to all who followed it. But it is futile, hopeless. You will
not, you will not,--and my fluttering dove is at the mercy of a
famished eagle, already poised to swoop. I 'reckoned without my host'
when I so confidently appealed to your magnanimity, to your feminine
integrity of soul. You are a 'deaf adder that stoppeth her ear.'"
"Which will not 'hearken to the voice of the charmer, charm he
never so wisely.' Dr. Grey, what has the pampered heiress, the
happy _fiancee_ of that handsome man upstairs, to fear from the
poverty-stricken daughter of a miller, who you conscientiously
inform your guest passed from time to eternity through the gate
opened by delirium tremens. Mark you, my 'adder ears' have not been
sealed all the evening."
She had taken his hand from her lips, and thrown it from her.
"People who condescend to listen to conversations that are not
intended for them, generally deserve the punishment of hearing
unpleasant truths discussed. Salome, our interview is at an end."
"Not yet. Do you sincerely desire to see Muriel Mr. Granville's
wife?"
"I do, because I know that she is strongly attached to him."
"And you are sufficiently generous to sacrifice your happiness, in
order to promote hers? Oh, marvellous magnanimity!"
"Your insinuation is beneath my notice."
"How long have you known of her engagement?"
"Since the first interview I had with her, after her father's death."
"Let me see your face, Dr. Grey. If truth has not been hunted out of
the earth, it took refuge in your eyes. There, I am satisfied. You
never loved her. I think I must have been insane, or I would not have
imagined it possible. No, no; she never touched your heart, save with
a feeling of compassion. Don't go, I want to say something to you. Sit
down, and let me think."
She walked up and down the room for ten minutes, and, with his face
bowed on his hand, Dr. Grey watched and waited.
Finally he stooped to pick up the crushed rose on the floor, and then
she came back and stood before him.
"I promise you I will not lay a straw in the path of Muriel's
happiness, and it shall not be my fault if Mr. Granville fails in a
lover's _devoir_. I was tempted to entice him from his sworn
allegiance. Why should I deny what you know so well? But I will not,
and when I give my word, it shall go hard with me but I keep it;
especially when you hold the pledge. Are you satisfied? I know that
you have little cause to trust me, but I tell you, sir, when I deceive
you, then all heaven with its hierarchies of archangels can not save
me."
After all, Ulpian Grey was only a man of flesh and blood, and his
heart was touched by the beauty of the young face, and the mournful
sweetness of the softened voice.
"Thank you, Salome. I accept your promise, and rely upon it. As a
pledge of your sincerity I shall retain this rose, and return it to
you when little Muriel is a happy wife."
She clasped her hands, and looked at him with a mournful, wistful
expression, that puzzled him.
"My friend, my little sister, what is it? Tell me, and let me help you
to do your duty, for I see that you are wrestling desperately with
some great temptation."
"Dr. Grey, be merciful to me. Send me away. Oh, for God's sake, send
me away!"
She had grown ghastly pale, and her whole face indexed a depth of
anguish and despair that baffled utterance.
"My dear child, where do you desire to go? If your wishes are
reasonable they shall be granted."
"Will you persuade Miss Jane to take Jessie in my place, and send me
to France or Italy?"
"To study music with the intention of becoming a _prima donna_?"
"Yes, sir."
"My young friend, I cannot conscientiously advise a compliance with
wishes so fraught with danger to yourself."
"You fear that my voice does not justify so expensive an experiment?"
"On the contrary, I have not a doubt that your extraordinary voice
will lift you to the highest pinnacle of musical celebrity; and,
because your career on the stage promises to prove so brilliant, I
shudder in anticipating the temptations that will unavoidably assail
you."
"You are afraid to trust me?"
"Yes, my little sister; you are so impulsive, so prone to hearken to
evil dictates rather than good ones, that I dread the thought of
seeing you launched into the dangerous career you contemplate, without
some surer, safer, more infallible pilot than your proud, passionate
heart. If you were homely, and a dullard, I should entertain less
apprehension about your future."
Her broad brow blackened with a frown that became a terrible scowl,
and her eyes gleamed like lightning under the edge of a thunderous
summer cloud.
"What is it to you whether I live or die? The immaculate soul of
Ulpian Grey, M.D., will serenely wing its way up through the stars, on
and on to the great Gates of Pearl,--oblivious of the beggar who, from
the lowest Hades, where she has fallen, eagerly watches his flight."
"The anxious soul of Ulpian Grey will pray for yours, as long as we
remain on earth. Salome, I am the truest friend you will ever find
this side of the City of God; and, when I see you plunging madly into
ruin, I shall snatch you back, cost me what it may. Your jeers and
struggle have not deterred me hitherto, nor shall they henceforth. You
are as incapable of guiding yourself aright, as a rudderless bark is
of stemming the gulf-stream in a south-west gale; and I am afraid to
trust you out of my sight."
"Yes, I understand you; the good angel in your nature pities the demon
in mine. But your pity stifles me; I could not endure it; and,
besides, I cannot stay here any longer. I must go out into the world,
and seize the fortune that people tell me my voice will certainly
yield me."
Flush and sparkle had died out of her face, which, in its worn,
haggard pallor, looked five years older than when she entered the
parlor, three hours before.
"Pecuniary considerations must not influence you, because, while Janet
and I live, you shall want nothing; and when either dies, you will be
liberally provided for. Dismiss from your mind a matter that has long
been decided, and which no wish of yours can annul or alter."
With an impatient wave of the hand, she answered,--
"Give to poor little Jessie and Stanley what was intended for me. They
are helpless, but I can take care of myself; and, moreover, I am not
contented here. I want to see something of the world in which--_bon
gre mal gre_--I find myself. Let me go. Rousseau was a sage. '_Le
monde est le livre des femmes_.'"
He shook his head, and said, sorrowfully,--
"No, your instincts are unreliable; and if you roam away from Jane
and from me, you will sip more poison than honey. Be wise, and remain
where Providence has placed you. I will bring Jessie here, and you
shall teach her what you choose, and Stanley can command all the
educational advantages he will improve. After a while, you shall, if
you prefer it, have a pleasant home of your own, and dwell there with
the two little ones. Such has long been my scheme and purpose; but,
during my sister's life, she will never consent to give you up; and
you owe it to her not to desert her in the closing years, when she
most urgently requires the solace of your love and society."
Salome covered her face with her hands, and something like a heavy dry
sob shook her frame; but the spring of bitterness seemed exhaustless,
and her voice was indescribably scornful in its defiant ring.
"You are very charitable, Dr. Grey, and I thank you for all your
embryonic benevolent plans for me and my pauper relatives; but I have
drawn a very different map for my future years. You seem to regard
this house as a second '_La Tour sans venin_,' which, like its
prototype near Grenoble, possesses an atmosphere fatal to all
poisonous, noxious things; but surely you forget that it has long
sheltered me."
"No, it has never arrogated the prerogative of '_La Tour sans venin_,'
but of one thing, my poor wilful child, you shall never have reason to
be skeptical,--that dear Jane and I will indefatigably strive to serve
you as faithfully and successfully, as did in ancient days, the Psylli
whom Plutarch immortalized."
While he spoke Dr. Grey had been turning over the leaves of the old
family Bible, which happened to lie within his reach; and now, without
premonition, he read aloud the fifty-fifth Psalm.
She listened, not willingly, but _ex necessitate rei_, and rebelliously;
and, when he finished the Psalm, and knelt, with his face on his arms,
which were crossed upon the back of a chair, she stood haughtily erect
and motionless beside him.
His prayer was brief and fervent, that God would aid her in her
efforts to curb her passionate temper, and to walk in accordance with
the teachings of Jesus; and that he would especially overrule all
things, and guide her decision in the important step she contemplated.
He rose, and turned towards her, but her countenance was hidden.
"Good night, Salome. God bless you and direct you."
She raised her face, and her eyes sought his with a long, questioning,
pleading gaze, so full of anguish that he could scarcely endure it.
Then he saw the last spark of hope expire; and she bent her queenly
head an instant, and silently passed from the parlor.
"I have watched my first and holiest hopes depart,
One after one;
I have held the hand of Death upon my heart,
And made no moan."