The profound stillness that pervades a room where life and death
grapple for mastery, invites and aids that calm, inexorable
introspection, which Gotama Buddha prescribes as an almost unerring
path to the attainment of peace; and, in the solemn silence of
his last and memorable vigil, Dr. Grey brought his heart into
complete unmurmuring subjection to the Divine will. A _soi-disant_
"resignation" that draws honied lips to the throne of grace,
leaving a heart of gall in the camp of sedition, could find no
harbor in his uncompromisingly honest nature; and though the
struggle was severe, he felt that faith in Eternal wisdom and mercy
had triumphed over merely human affection and earthly hopes, and
his strong soul chanted to itself the comforting strains of
Lampert's "Trust Song."
No mere gala barge, gay with paint and gaudy with pennons, was his
religion; no fair summer-day toy bearing him lightly across the
sun-kissed, breeze-dimpled sea of prosperity and happiness, and frail
as the foam that draped its prow with lace; but a staunch, trim,
steady, unpretending bark, that with unfaltering faith at the helm,
rode firmly all the billows of adversity, and steered unerringly
harborward through howling tempests and impenetrable gloom. Human
friendships and sympathy he considered unstable and treacherous as
Peter, when he shrank from his Lord; but Christian trust was one of
the silver-tongued angels of God, ringing chimes of patience and
peace, far above the din of wailing, bleeding hearts, and the fierce
flames of flesh martyrdom.
One o'clock found Dr. Grey sitting near the pillow, where for five
hours Mrs. Gerome had slept as quietly as a tired child. The
fever-glow had burned itself out, and left an ashen hue on the lips
and cheeks.
Wishing to arouse her, he spoke to her several times and raised her
head, but though she drank the powerful stimulant he held to her
mouth, her heavy eyelids were not lifted, and when he smoothed the
pillow and laid her comfortably upon it, she slumbered once more.
At the foot of the bed, with his keen yellow eyes fastened on his
mistress, crouched the greyhound, his silky head on his paws; and on a
pallet in one corner of the room slept Katie, ready to render any
assistance that might be required.
The apartment was elegantly furnished, and green and gold tinted all
its appointments. On an Egyptian marble table stood a work-box
curiously inlaid with malachite and richly gilded, and there lay some
withered flowers, a small thimble, and a pair of scissors with
mother-of-pearl handles. Around the walls hung a number of paintings,
which, with one exception, were landscapes or ocean-views; and as Dr.
Grey sat watching the shimmer of lamp-light on their carved frames and
varnished surfaces, they seemed to furnish images of
"Green glaring glaciers, purple clouds of pine,
White walls of ever-roaring cataracts;
Blue thunder drifting over thirsty tracts,
Rose-latticed casements, lone in summer lands,--
Some witch's bower; pale sailors on the marge
Of magic seas, in an enchanted barge
Stranded at sunset, upon jewelled sands.
Some cup of dim hills, where a white moon lies,
Dropt out of weary skies without a breath
In a great pool; a slumb'rous vale beneath,
And blue damps prickling into white fire-flies."
No sweet-lipped, low-browed Madonnas, no rapt Cecilias, no holy Johns
nor meek Stephens, no reeling Satyrs nor vine-clad _Bacchantes_
relieved the eye, weary of mountain ghylls, red-ribbed deserts, and
stormy surfage.
One long narrow picture baffled interpretation, and excited
speculations that served in some degree to divert the sad current of
the physician's thoughts.
It was a dreary plain, dotted with the "fallen cromlechs of
Stonehenge," and in front of the desecrated stone altars stood a
veiled woman, with her hands clasped over a silver crescent-curved
knife, and her bare feet resting on oaken chaplets and mistletoe
boughs, starred and fringed with snowy flowers. Under the dexterously
painted gauze that shrouded the face, the outline of the features was
distinctly traceable, end behind the film,--large, oracular, yet
mournful eyes, burned like setting stars, seen through magnifying
vapors that wreathe the horizon.
It was a solemn, desolate, melancholy picture, relieved by no flush of
color,--gray plain, gray distance, gray sky, gray temple tumuli, and
that ghostly white woman, gazing grimly down at the gray-haired
sufferer on the low bed beneath her.
Under some circumstances, certain pictures seem basilisk-eyed,
riveting a gaze that would gladly seek more agreeable subjects, and it
chanced that Dr. Grey found a painful fascination in this piece of
canvas that hung immediately in front of him. Wherein consisted the
magnetism that so powerfully attracted him, he could not decide, but
several times when the wind blew the scalloped edge of the lace
curtain between the lamp and the picture, and threw a dim wavering
shadow over the figure on the wall, he almost expected to see the veil
float away from the stony face, and reveal what the artist had
adroitly shrouded. Now it looked a doomed "Norma," and anon the
Nemesis of a dishonored faneless faith, that was born among Magi, and
had tutored Pythagoras; and finally Dr. Grey rose and turned away to
escape its spectral spell.
Waking Katie, he charged her to call him if any change occurred in his
patient, and went to the front of the house for a breath of fresh
air.
Narcissus-like, a three-quarter moon was staring down at her own
image, rocked on the bosom of the sea, while dim stars printed silver
photographs on the deep blue beneath them,--
"And the hush of earth and air
Seemed the pause before a prayer."
The wind that had blown steadily for two days past from the
south-east, had gone down into some ocean lair; but the sullen
element refused to forget its late scourging, and occasionally a long
swelling billow dashed itself into froth against the stone piers of
the boat-house, and the cliffs which stood like a phantom fleet along
the southern bend of the beach, were fringed with a white girdle of
incessant breakers.
Far out from shore the rolling mass of water was darkly blue, but now
and then a wave broke over its neighbor, and in the distance the foam
flashed under moonshine like some reconnoitring Siren-face, peeping
landward for fresh victims; or as the samite-clad arm that Arthur and
Sir Bedivere saw rise above the mere to receive Excalibar.
Following the beckoning of those snowy hands, and listening to the low
musical monologue that sea uttered to shore, Dr. Grey started in the
direction of the terrace, whence he could see the whole trend of the
beetling coast, but some unaccountable impulse induced him to pause
and look back.
The dense shadow of the trees shut out from the spot where he stood
the golden radiance of the moon, but over the lawn it streamed in
almost unearthly splendor,--and there he saw some white object glide
swiftly towards the group of deodars. The first solution that occurred
to his mind was that Katie had fallen asleep, and Mrs. Gerome in her
delirium making her way out of the house, was seeking her favorite
walk; but a moment's reflection convinced him that she was too utterly
prostrated to cross the room, still less the grounds, and, resolved to
satisfy himself, he followed the moving object that retreated before
him.
Walking rapidly but stealthily in the shadow of the trees and
shrubbery, he soon ascertained that it was a woman's figure, and saw
that it stopped at Elsie's grave, and bent down to touch the
head-board. Creeping forward, he had approached within ten yards of
her, when his hat struck the lower limbs of a large acacia, and
startled a bird that uttered a cry of terror and darted out. The sound
caused the figure to turn her head, and catching a glimpse of Dr.
Grey, she ran under the dense boughs of the deodars, and disappeared.
He followed, and groped through the gloom, but when he emerged, no
living thing was visible; and, perplexed and curious, he stood still.
After some moments he heard a faint sound, as of some one smothering a
cough, and pursuing it, found himself at the boundary of the grounds.
Here a thick hedge of osage orange barred egress, and he saw the woman
disentangling her drapery from the thorns that had seized it.
Springing forward, he exclaimed,--
"Stand still! You can not escape me. Who are you?"
A feigned and lugubrious voice answered,--
"I am the restless spirit of Elsie Maclean, come back to guard her
grave."
In another instant he was at her side, and laying his hand on the
white netted shawl with which she was veiling her features, he tore it
away, and Salome's fair face looked defiantly at him.
"If I had known that my pursuer was Dr. Grey, I would not have
troubled myself to play the ghost farce, for of course I could not
expect to frighten you off; but I hoped you were one of the servants,
who would not very diligently chase a spectre. I did not suppose that
you could be coaxed or driven thus far from your arm-chair beside the
bed where Mrs. Gerome is asleep."
Astonishment kept him silent for some seconds, and, in the awkward
pause, the girl laughed constrainedly--nervously.
"After all your show of bravery in pursuing a woman, I verily believe
you are too much frightened to arrest me if I chose to escape."
"Salome, has something terrible happened at home, that you have come
here at midnight to break to me?"
"Nothing has happened at home."
"Then why are you here? Are you, too, delirious?"
Her scornful laugh rang startlingly on the still night air.
"Oh, Salome! You grieve, you shock me!"
"Yes, Dr. Grey, you have assured me of that fact too frequently--too
feelingly--to permit me to doubt your sincerity. You need not repeat
it; I accept the assertion that you are shocked at my indiscretions."
Compassion predominated over displeasure, as he observed the utter
recklessness that pervaded her tone and manner.
"I am unwilling to believe that you would, without some very cogent
reason, violate all decorum by coming alone at dead of night two miles
through a dreary stretch of hills and woods. Necessity sometimes
sanctions an infraction of the rules of rigid propriety, and I am
impatient to hear your defence of this most extraordinary caprice."
She was endeavoring to disengage the fringe of her shawl from the
hedge, but finding it a tedious operation, she caught her drapery in
both hands and tore it away from the thorns, leaving several shreds
hanging on the prickly boughs.
"Dr. Grey, I have no defence to offer."
"Tell me what induced you to come here."
"An eminently charitable and commendable interest in your fair
patient. I came here simply and solely to ascertain whether Mrs.
Gerome would die, or whether she could possibly recover."
Unflinchingly she looked up into his eyes, and he thought he had never
seen a fairer, prouder, or lovelier face.
"How did you expect to accomplish your errand by wandering about these
grounds, exposing yourself to insult and to injury?"
"I have been on the gallery since twilight, looking through the lace
curtains at Mrs. Gerome lying on her bed, and at you sitting in the
arm-chair. Her eyes are keener than yours, for she saw me peeping
through the window, and told you so. When you left the room I came out
among the trees to escape observation. I scorn all equivocation, and
have no desire to conceal the truth, for if I am not dowered
'With blood trained up along nine centuries,
To hound and hate a lie,'
at least I hold my pauper soul high above the mire of falsehood; and
... 'The things we do,
We do: we'll wear no mask, as if we blushed.'"
They had walked away from the hedge, and Dr. Grey paused at the mound,
where the Ariadne gleamed cold and white in the moonbeams that slanted
across it like silver lances.
Revolving in his mind the best method of extricating the orphan from
the unfortunate predicament in which her rashness had plunged her, he
did not answer immediately, and Salome continued, impatiently,--
"If you imagine that I came here to act as spy upon your actions, you
most egregiously mistake me, for I know all that the most rigid
surveillance could possibly teach me. I heard you say that this night
would prove a crisis in Mrs. Gerome's case, and I was so anxious to
learn the result that I could not wait quietly at home until morning.
I begged you to bring me, and you refused; consequently, I came alone.
Deal frankly with me,--tell me, will that woman die?"
The breathless eagerness with which she bent towards him, the
strained, almost ferocious expression of her keen eyes, sickened his
soul, and he put his hand over his face to shut out the sight of
hers.
"Tell me the truth. I must and will know it."
Her sweet clear voice had become a low hoarse pant, and the knotted
lines were growing harder and tighter on her beautiful brow.
"I pray ceaselessly that God will spare her to me, and I hope all
things from His mercy. Another hour will probably end my suspense, and
decide the awful question of life or death. Salome, if she should die,
my future will be very lonely,--and my heart bereft of the brightest,
dearest hopes, that have ever cheered it."
A half-smothered cry struggled across the orphan's trembling lips that
had suddenly grown colorless, and he saw her clutch her fingers.
"And if she lives?"
"If she lives, and will accept the affection I shall offer her, the
remainder of my years will be devoted to the work of making her forget
the sorrows that have darkened the early portion of her life. I do
not wish to conceal the fact that she is inexpressibly dear to me."
During the long silence that ensued, a lifetime of agony seemed
compressed into the compass of a few moments, but Salome stood
motionless, with her arms pressed over her aching heart, and her head
thrown haughtily back, while the moonlight streamed down on her face
where pride and pain were struggling for right to reign.
When all expectation of earthly happiness is smothered in a proud,
passionate soul, and the future robes itself in those dun hues that
only the day-star of eternity can gild, nerves and muscles shrink and
shiver at the massacre of hopes which despair hews down, in the hour
that it "storms the citadel of the heart, and puts the whole garrison
to the sword."
Dr. Grey could not endure the sight of that fixed, hardened face, and
sorely distressed by the consciousness of the suffering which he had
unintentionally inflicted on one so young, he moved away, and for some
time walked slowly under the arching laurestines. Although his stern
integrity of purpose acquitted him of all blame, and he could accuse
himself of no word or deed that might be held amenable to conscience
for the mischief and misery that had resulted from his acquaintance
with this unfortunate girl, he regretted that he had remained in the
same house, and, by constant association, fed the flame that absence
might have extinguished.
While he pitied the weakness that had induced her to yield so entirely
to the preference she indulged for him, he felt humiliated at the
thought that he, who had intended to guide and elevate this wayward
child of nature, had been instrumental in darkening and embittering
her young life.
When he came back to the spot, whence she had not moved, and laid his
hand gently on her shoulder, she smiled strangely, and
"Unbent the grieving beauty of her brows.
But held her heart's proud pain superbly still."
"My little sister, you must not stay here any longer. Would you prefer
to go home at once in my buggy, or remain in the parlor until
daylight?"
"Neither. Let me sit down on the stone terrace till the end comes. I
will disturb no one. It will be three hours before day breaks, and
when you know whether your idol will live or die, come and tell me.
Take your hand from my shoulder."
He had endeavored to detain her, but she shrank away from his grasp,
and glided down the smooth sward to the terrace which divided it from
the ripple-barred and ringed sands of the shelving beach.
As he returned to the house, the wind sprang up and moaned through the
dense foliage above him, and an owl, perched in some clustering bough
that overhung the portico, screamed and hooted dismally. The sound was
so startling that the greyhound leaped to his feet and set up an
answering howl, which almost froze Katie with fright, and caused even
Mrs. Gerome's heavy eyelids to unclose.
Salome sat down on the paved terrace, crossed her arms over the low
stone balustrade, and resting her chin upon them, looked out at the
burnished bosom of the ocean. Just beneath her, and near enough to
moisten the granite with the silvery spray,--
"Its waves are kneeling on the strand,
As kneels the human knee,
Their white locks bowing to the sand,
The priesthood of the sea."
If the old Rabbinical legend of Sandalphon be grounded in some solemn
vision granted to the saints of eld, who walked in Syria, then
peradventure on this night, the angel must have been puzzled indeed
concerning the petitions that floated up, and demanded admission to
the Eternal ear.
From the anxious heart of the sincere and humble Christian who knelt
at the bedside of the invalid, rose a fervent prayer that if
consistent with the Father's will, He would lay His healing hand upon
the sufferer, and restore her to health and strength; while the
wretched girl on the terrace prayed vehemently that God would crush
the feeble flicker of life in Mrs. Gerome's wasted frame, would take
from the world a woman whose existence was a burden to herself and
threatened to prove a curse to others.
The passionate cry of Salome's soul was,--
"Punish me in any way, and all other ways! Send sickness, destitution,
humiliation,--let every other affliction smite me; but save me from
the intolerable anguish of seeing that woman his wife! O my God! the
world is not wide enough to hold us both. Take her, or else call me
speedily hence. I am not fit to die, but I shall never be better, if I
am doomed to witness this marriage. I would sooner go down to
perdition now, than live to see that thing of horror. Of two hells, I
choose that which takes me farthest from her."
For the first time in her life she felt that the hours were flying,
that the day of doom was rushing to meet her, and she shuddered when
one after another the constellations slipped softly and solemnly down
the sky, and vanished behind the dim shadowy outline of the western
hills. Gradually the moon sank so low that the sea could no longer
reflect her beams, and as the mighty waste of waters slowly darkened,
and the wind stiffened, and the song of the surf swelled like a rising
requiem, the girl felt that all nature was preparing to mourn with her
over the burial of her only hope of earthly peace.
If Mrs. Gerome died, a quiet future stretched before the orphan, and
she could bear to live without the love which she had the grim
satisfaction of knowing brightened no other woman's life.
The happiness of the man for whom she almost impiously prayed, was a
matter of little importance compared with the ease of her own heart;
and she had yet to learn that the welfare and peace of the object she
loved so selfishly would one day become paramount to all other aims
and considerations. That pure and sublime spirit of self-abnegation
which immolates every hope and wish that is at variance with the
happiness of the beloved had not yet been born in Salome's fiery
nature; and she cared little for the anguish that might be Dr. Grey's
portion, provided her own heart could be spared the pang of witnessing
his wedded bliss.
Through the trees, she could see the steady light of the lamp that
burned in the room where the sick woman lay, and so she watched and
waited, shivering in the shadow that fell over earth and ocean just
before the breaking of the new day.
Along the eastern horizon, the white fires of rising constellations
paled and flickered and seemed to die, as a gray light stole up behind
them; and the gray grew pearly, and the pearly opaline, and ere long
the sky crimsoned, and the sea reddened until its waves were like ruby
wine or human gore.
In the radiant dawn of that day which would decide the earthly
destinies of three beings, Salome saw Dr. Grey coming across the lawn.
His step was quiet,--neither slow nor hasty, and she could not
conjecture the result; but as he approached, she rose, wrapped her
shawl about her, and advanced to meet him. He paused, took off his
hat, and she knew all before a syllable passed his lips.
"Salome, God has heard my prayers,--has mercifully taken my darling
from the arms of death, and given her to me. I do not think I am too
sanguine in saying that she will ultimately recover, and my heart can
not find language that will interpret its gratitude and joy."
Never before had such a light shone in his clear, calm blue eyes, and
illumined his usually grave countenance; and though continued vigils
and keen anxiety had left their signet on his pale face, his great
happiness was printed legibly on every feature, and found expression
even in the deepened and softened tones of his voice.
The girl did not move or speak, but looked steadily into his
bright eyes, and the calmness with which she listened, comforted
and encouraged him to hope that ere long she would conquer her
preference.
How could he know that at that instant she was impiously vowing that
heaven had heard her last prayer?--that never again should a petition
cross her lips? God had granted one prayer,--had decided against
hers,--had denied her utterly; and henceforth she would not weary
Him,--she would not mock herself and her misery.
Dr. Grey saw that there was no quiver on the still, pale lips, no
contraction of the polished forehead; but the rigidity of her face
broke up suddenly in a smile of indescribable mournfulness,--a smile
where self-contempt and pity and hopeless bitterness all lent their
saddest phases.
"Dr. Grey, in your present happy mood, you certainly can not be so
ungracious as to deny me a favor?"
"Have I ever refused my little sister anything she asked?"
"The only favor you can ever grant me will be to persuade Miss Jane to
consent to my departure. Look to it, sir, that I am allowed to go, and
that right speedily; for go I certainly shall, at all hazards.
Convince your sister that it is best, and let me go away forever,
without incurring the displeasure of the only friend I ever had or
ever shall have."
She moved away as if to leave the grounds, but he caught her arm.
"Wait five minutes, Salome, and I will take you home in my buggy. It
is not right for you to walk alone at this early hour, and I will not
allow it."
She shook off his hand as if it had been an infant's; and, as she
walked away, he heard her laugh with a degree of savage bitterness
that stabbed his generous heart like a dagger; while behind her
trailed the hissing echo,--
... "Oh, alone, alone,--
Not troubling any in heaven, nor any on earth."