"Yes, Dr. Grey, I am better than I ever expected or desired to be in
this world."
"Mrs. Gerome, this is scarcely the recompense that my anxious
vigilance and ceaseless exertions merit at your hands."
The invalid leaned far back in her cushioned easy-chair, and, as the
physician rested his arm on the mantelpiece and looked down at her, he
thought of the lines that had more than once recurred to his mind,
since the commencement of their acquaintance,--
"What finely carven features! Yes, but carved
From some clear stuff, not like a woman's flesh,
And colored like half-faded, white-rose leaves.
'Tis all too thin, and wan, and wanting blood,
To take my taste. No fulness, and no flush!
A watery half-moon in a wintry sky
Looks less uncomfortably cold. And ... well,
I never in the eyes of a sane woman
Saw such a strange, unsatisfied regard."
"I suppose I ought to be grateful to you, Dr. Grey, for Katie and
Robert have told me how patiently and carefully you nursed and watched
over me, during my illness; but instead of gratitude, I find it
difficult to forgive you for what you have done. You fanned into a
flame the spark of life that was smouldering and expiring, and baffled
the disease that came to me as the handmaid of Mercy. Death,
transformed into an angel of pity, kindly opened the door of escape
from the woe and weariness of this sin-cursed world, into the calmness
and dreamless rest of the vast shoreless Beyond; and just when I was
passing through, you snatched me back to my burdens and my bitter lot.
I know, of course, that you intended only kindness, but you must not
blame me if I fail to thank you."
"You forget that life is intended as a season of fiery probation, and
that without suffering there is no purification, and no reward.
Remember, 'Calm is not life's crown, though calm is well;' and those
who forego the pain must forego the palm."
"I would gladly forego all things for a rest,--a sleep that could know
no end. Katie tells me I have been ill a month, and from this brief
season of oblivion you have dragged me back to the existence that I
abhor. Dr. Grey, I feel to-day as poor Maurice de Guerin felt, when he
wrote from Le Val, 'My fate has knocked at the door to recall me; for
she had not gone on her way, but had seated herself upon the
threshold, waiting until I had recovered sufficient strength to resume
my journey. "Thou hast tarried long enough," said she to me; "come
forward!" And she has taken me by the hand, and behold her again on
the march, like those poor women one meets on the road, leading a
child who follows with a sorrowful air.'"
"There is a better guide provided, if you would only accept and yield
to his ministrations. For the flint-faced fate that you accuse so
virulently, substitute that tender and loving guardian the Angel of
Patience.
'To weary hearts, to mourning homes,
God's meekest Angel gently comes.
. . . . . . . . . .
There's quiet in that Angel's glance,
There's rest in his still countenance!
. . . . . . . . . .
The ills and woes he may not cure
He kindly trains us to endure.
. . . . . . . . . .
He walks with thee, that Angel kind,
And gently whispers, 'Be resigned.'
A moment since, you quoted De Guerin, and perhaps you may recollect
one of his declarations, 'I have no shelter but resignation, and I run
to it in great haste, all trembling and distracted. Resignation! It is
the burrow hollowed in the cleft of some rock, which gives shelter to
the flying and long-hunted prey.' You will never find peace for your
heart and soul until you bring your will into complete subjection to
that of Him 'who doeth all things well.' Defiance and rebellious
struggles only aggravate your sorrows and trials."
She listened to the deep, quiet voice, as some unlettered savage might
hearken to the rhythmic music of Homer, soothed by the tones, yet
incapable of comprehending their import; and as she looked up at the
grave, kingly face, her eyes fell upon the broad band of crape that
encircled his straw hat, which had been hastily placed on the
mantelpiece.
"Dr. Grey, you ought to speak advisedly, for Robert told me that you
had recently lost your sister, and that you are now alone in the
world. You, who have severe afflictions, should know how far
resignation lightens them. I was much pained to learn that your sister
died while you were absent,--while you were sitting up with me. Ah,
sir! you ought to have watched her, and left me to my release. You
have been very kind and considerate toward one who has no claim upon
aught but your pity; and I would gladly lie down in your sister's
grave, and give her back to your heart and home."
Her countenance softened for an instant, and she held out her hand. He
took the delicate fingers in his, and pressed them gently.
"God grant that your life may be spared, until all doubt and
bitterness is removed from your heart, and that when you go down into
the grave it may be as bright with the blessed faith of a Christian as
that which now contains my sister Janet. Do not allow the gloom of
earthly disappointment to cloud your trust, but bear always in mind
those cheering words of Saadi,--
'Says God, "Who comes towards me an inch through doubtings dim,
In blazing light I do approach a yard towards him."'"
"If I am to be kept in this world until all the bitterness is scourged
out of me, I might as well resign myself to a career as endless as
that of Ahasuerus. I tell you, sir, I have been forced to drink out of
quassia-cups until my whole being has imbibed the bitter; and I am
like that tree to which Firdousi compared Mahmoud, 'Whose nature is so
bitter, that were you to plant it in the garden of Eden, and water it
with the ambrosial stream of Paradise, and were you to enrich its
roots with virgin honey, it would, after all, discover its innate
disposition, and only yield the acrid fruit it had ever borne.'"
"What right have you to expect that existence should prove one
continued gala-season? When Christ went down meekly into Gethsemane,
that such as you and I might win a place in the Eternal City, how
dare you demand exemption from grief and pain, that Jesus, your
God, did not spare Himself? Are you purer than Christ, and wiser
than the Almighty, that you impiously deride and question their
code for the government of the Universe, in which individual lives
seem trivial as the sands of the desert, or the leaves of the
forest? Oh! it is pitiable, indeed, to see some worm writhing in
the dust, and blasphemously dictating laws to Him who swung suns and
asterisms in space, and breathed into its own feeble fragment of clay
the spark that enabled it to insult its God. Put away such unwomanly
scoffing,--such irreverent puerilities; sweep your soul clean of all
such wretched rubbish, and when you feel tempted to repine at your
lot, recollect the noble admonition of Dschelaleddin, 'If this
world were our abiding-place, we might complain that it makes our
bed so hard; but it is only our night-quarters on a journey, and
who can expect home comforts?'"
"I can not feel resigned to my lot. It is too hard,--too unjust."
"Mrs. Gerome, are you more just and prescient than Jehovah?"
She passed her thin hand across her face, and was silent, for his
voice and manner awed her. After a little while, she sat erect in her
chair, and tried to rise.
"Doctor, if you could look down into the gray ruins of my heart, you
would not reprove me so harshly. My whole being seems in some cold
eclipse, and my soul is like the Sistine Chapel in Passion-week,
where all is shrouded in shadow, and no sounds are heard but Misereres
and Tenebrae."
"Promise me that in future you will try to keep it like that Christian
temple, pure and inviolate from all imprecations and rebellious words.
If gloom there must be, see to it that resignation seals your lips.
What are you trying to do? You are not strong enough to walk alone."
"I want to go into the parlor,--I want my piano. Yesterday I attempted
to cross the room, and only Katie's presence saved me from a severe
fall."
She stood by her chair, grasping the carved back, and Dr. Grey stepped
forward, and drew her arm under his.
In her great weakness she leaned upon him, and when they reached the
parlor door, she paused and almost panted.
"You must not attempt to play,--you are too feeble even to sit up
longer. Let me take you back to your room."
"No,--no! Let me alone. I know best what is good for me; and I tell
you my piano is my only Paraclete."
Holding his arm for support, she drew a chair instead of the
piano-stool to the instrument, and seated herself.
Dr. Grey raised the lid, and waited some seconds, expecting her to
play, but she sat still and mute, and presently he stooped to catch a
glimpse of her countenance.
"I want to see Elsie's grave. Open the blinds."
He threw open the shutters, and came back to the piano.
Through the window, the group of deodars was visible, and there,
bathed in the mild yellow sunshine was the mound, and the faded wreath
swinging in the breeze.
For many minutes Mrs. Gerome gazed at the quiet spot where her nurse
rested, and with her eyes still on the grave, her fingers struck into
Chopin's Funeral March.
After a while, Dr. Grey noticed a slight quiver cross her pale lips,
and when the mournful music reached its saddest chords, a mist veiled
the steely eyes, and very soon tears rolled slowly down her cheeks.
The march ended, she did not pause, but began Mozart's Requiem, and
all the while that slow rain of tears dripped down on her white
fingers, and splashed upon the ivory keys.
Dr. Grey was so rejoiced at the breaking up of the ice that had long
frozen the fountain of her tears, that he made no attempt to interrupt
her, until he saw that she tottered in her chair. Taking her hands
from the piano, he said gently,--
"You are quite exhausted, and I can not permit this to continue. Come
back to your room."
"No; let me stay here. Put me on the sofa in the oriel, and leave the
blinds open."
He lifted her from the chair and led her to the sofa, where she sank
heavily down upon the cushions.
Without comment or resistance, she drank a glass of strong cordial
which he held to her lips, and lay with her eyes closed, while tears
still trickled through the long jet lashes.
She wore a robe of white merino, and a rich blue shawl of the same
soft material which was folded across her shoulders, made the wan face
look like some marble seraph's, hovering over an altar where violet
light streams through stained glass.
For some time Dr. Grey walked up and down the long room, glancing
now and then at his patient, and when he saw that the tears had
ceased, he brought from a basket in the hall an exquisitely
beautiful and fragrant bouquet of the flowers which he knew she
loved best,--heliotrope, violets, tube-rose, and Grand-Duke
jessamine, fringed daintily with spicy geranium leaves, and scarlet
fuchsias.
Silently he placed it on her folded hands, and the expression of
surprise and pleasure that suddenly lighted her countenance, amply
repaid him.
"Dr. Grey, it has been my wish to except services from no one,--to owe
no human being thanks; but your unvarying kindness to my poor Elsie
and to me, imposes a debt of gratitude that I can not easily
liquidate. I fear you are destined to bankrupt me, for how can I hope
to repay all your thoughtful, delicate care, and generous interest in
a stranger? Tell me in what way I can adequately requite you."
Dr. Grey drew a chair close to the sofa, and answered,--
"Take care lest your zeal prove the contrary, for you know a
distinguished philosopher asserts that, 'Too great eagerness to
requite an obligation is a species of ingratitude;' and such an
accusation would be unflattering to you, and unpleasant to me."
Turning the bouquet around in order to examine and admire each flower,
Mrs. Gerome toyed with the velvet bells, and said, sorrowfully,--
"Their delicious perfume always reminds me of my beautiful home near
Funchal, where heliotrope and geraniums grew so tall that they looked
in at my window, and hedges of fuchsias bordered my garden walks.
Never have I seen elsewhere such profusion and perfection of
flowers."
"When were you in Madeira?"
"Two years ago. The villa I occupied was situated on the side of a
mountain, whose base was covered with vineyards; and from a grove of
lemon and oleanders that stood in front of the house I could see the
surging Atlantic at my feet, and the crest of the mountain clothed
with chestnuts, high above and behind me. In one corner of my vineyard
stood a solitary palm, which tradition asserted was planted when Zarco
discovered the island; and the groves of orange, citron, and
pomegranate trees were always peopled with humming-birds, and flocks
of green canaries. There, surrounded by grand and picturesque scenery
of which I never wearied, I resolved to live and die; but Elsie's
desire to return to America, which held the ashes of her husband and
child, overruled my inclination and the dictates of judgment, and
reluctantly I left my mountain Eden and came here. Now, when I smell
violets and heliotrope, regret mingles with their aroma; and, after
all, the sacrifice was in vain, and Elsie would have slept as calmly
there, under palm and chestnut, as yonder, where the deodar-shadows
fall."
"Is your life here a faithful transcript of that portion of it passed
at Funchal?"
"Yes; except that there I saw no human being but the servants, who
transacted any business that demanded interviews with the consul."
"It was fortunate that Elsie's wise counsel prevailed over your
caprice, for many of your griefs proceed from the complete isolation
to which you so strangely doom yourself; and until you become a useful
member of that society you are so fully fitted to adorn and elevate,
you need not hope or expect the peace of mind that results only from
the consciousness of having nobly discharged the sacred obligations to
God, and to your race. 'Bear ye one another's burdens,' was the solemn
admonition of Him who sublimely bore the burdens of an entire world.
Now tell me, have you ever stretched out a finger to aid the toiling
multitudes whose cry for help wails over even the most prosperous
lands? What have you done to strengthen trembling hands, or comfort
and gladden oppressed hearts? How dare you hoard within your own home
the treasure of fortune, talent, and sympathy, which were temporarily
entrusted to your hands, to be sown broadcast in noble charities,--to
be judiciously invested in promoting the cause of Truth in the fierce
war Evil wages against it? Hitherto you have lived solely for
yourself, which is a sin against humanity; and have pampered a morbid
and rebellious spirit, that is a grevious sin against your God. Shake
off your lethargy and cynicism, and let a busy future redeem a vagrant
and worthless past. '_He that goeth forth and weepeth, bearing
precious seed, shall doubtless come again with rejoicing, bringing his
sheaves with him._'"
The flowers dropped on her bosom, and, clasping her hands across her
forehead, she turned her face towards the sea, and seemed pondering
his words.
"Dr. Grey, my purse has always been open to the needy, and Elsie was
my almoner. Whenever you find a destitute family, or hear an appeal
for help, I shall gladly respond, and constitute you the agent for the
distribution of my charity-fund. As for bearing the sorrows of others,
pray excuse me. I am so weighed down with my own burdens that I have
no strength or leisure to spare to my neighbors, and since I ask no
aid, must not be censured for rendering none. It is utterly useless to
urge me to enter society, for like that sad pilgrim in Brittany, 'In
losing solitude I lose the half of my soul. I go out into the world
with a secret horror. When I withdraw, I gather together and lock up
my scattered treasure, but I put away my ideas sorely handled, like
fruits fallen from the tree upon stones.' No, no; in seclusion I find
the only modicum of peace that earth can ever yield me, and can
readily understand why Chateaubriand avoided those crowds which he
denominated, 'The vast desert of men.'"
"You must not be offended, if, in reply, I remind you of the rude but
vigorous words of that prince of cynics, Schopenhauer, 'Society is a
fire at which the wise man from a prudent distance warms himself; not
plunging into it, like the fool who after getting well blistered,
rushes into the coldness of solitude, and complains that the fire
burns.' Of the two evils, reckless dissipation and gloomy isolation,
the latter is probably an economy of sin; but since neither is
inevitable, we should all endeavor to render ourselves useful members
of society, and unfurl over our circle the banner of St. Paul, 'Use
this world as not abusing it.' Mrs. Gerome, do not obstinately mar the
present and future, by brooding bitterly over the trials of the past;
but try to believe that, indeed,--
... 'Sorrows humanize our race;
Tears are the showers that fertilize this world.
And memory of things precious keepeth warm
The heart that once did hold them.'"
He watched her eagerly yet gravely, hoping that her face would soften;
but she raised her hand with a proud, impatient motion.
"You talk at random, concerning matters of which you know nothing. I
hate the world and have abjured it, and you might as well go down
yonder and harangue the ocean on the sin of its ceaseless muttering,
as expect to remodel my aimless, blank life."
Pained and disappointed, he remained silent, and, as if conscious of a
want of courtesy, she added,--
"Do not allow your generous heart to be disquieted on my account, but
leave me to a fate which can not be changed,--which I have endured
seven years, and must bear to my grave. Now that you see how desolate
I am, pity me, and be silent."
"It will be difficult for you to regain your strength here, where so
many mournful associations surround you, and I came to-day to beg you
to take a trip somewhere, by sea or land. Almost any change of scene
and air will materially benefit you, and you need not be absent more
than a few weeks. Will you take the matter under consideration?"
"No, sir; why should I? Can hills or waves, dells or lakes, cure a
mind which you assure me is diseased? Can sea breeze or mountain air
fan out recollections that have jaundiced the heart, or furnish an
opiate that will effectually deaden and quiet regret? I long ago tried
your remedy--travelling, and for four years I wandered up and down,
and over the face of the old world; but amid the crumbling columns of
Persepolis, I was still Agla Gerome, the wretched; and when I stood on
the margin of the Lake of Wan, I saw in its waves the reflection of
the same hopeless woman who now lies before you. Change of external
surroundings is futile, and no more affects the soul than the roar of
surface-surf changes the hollow of an ocean bed where the dead sleep;
and, verily,--
'My heart is a drear Golgotha, where all the ground is white
With the wrecks of joys that have perished,--the skeletons of
delight.'"
He saw that in her present mood expostulation would only aggravate the
evil he longed to correct, and hoping to divert the current of her
thoughts, he said,--
"I trust you will not deem me impertinently curious if I ask what
singular freak bestowed upon you the name of 'Agla'?"
A startling change swept over her features, and her tone was haughtily
challenging.
"What interest can Dr. Grey find in a matter so trivial? If I were
named Hecate or Persephone, would the world have a right to demur, to
complain, or to criticise?"
"When a lady bears the mystic name, which, in past ages, was given to
the Deity, by a race who, if superstitious, were at least devout and
reverent, she should not be surprised if it excites wonder and
comment. Forgive me, however, if my inquiry annoyed you."
He rose and took his hat, but her hand caught his arm.
"Do you know the import of the word?"
"Yes; I understand the significance of the letters, and the wonderful
power attributed to them when arranged in the triangles and called the
'Shield of David.' Knowing that it was considered talismanic, I could
not imagine why you were christened with so mystical a name."
"I was never christened."
He could not explain the confusion and displeasure which the question
excited, and anxious to relieve her of any feeling of annoyance, he
added,--
"Have you ever looked into the nature of the _Aglaophotis_?"
She struggled up from her cushions, and exclaimed, with a vehemence
that startled him,--
"What induced you to examine it? I know that it is a strange plant,
growing out of solid marble, and accounted a charm by Arab magicians.
Well, Dr. Grey, do not I belong to that species? You see before you a
human specimen of _Aglaophotis_, growing out of a marble heart."
Sometimes an exaggerated whimsicality trenches so closely upon
insanity, that it is difficult to discriminate between them; and, as
Dr. Grey noted the peculiarly cold glitter of her large eyes, and the
restless movement of her usually quiet hands, he dreaded that the
crushing weight on her heart would ultimately impair her mind. Now he
abruptly changed the topic.
"Mrs. Gerome, whenever it is agreeable to you to drive down the beach
or across the woods and among the hills, it will afford me much
pleasure to place my horse, buggy, and myself at your disposal; and,
in fine weather like this, a drive of a few miles would invigorate
you."
"Thank you. I shall not trouble you, for I have my low-swung easy
carriage, and my grays--my fatal grays. Ah if they would only serve me
as they did my poor Elsie! When I am strong enough to take the reins,
I will allow them an opportunity. Dr. Grey, if I seem rude, forgive
me. You are very kind and singularly patient, and sometimes when you
have left me, I feel ashamed of my inability to prove my sincere
appreciation of your goodness. For these beautiful flowers, I thank
you cordially."
She held out her hand, and, as he accepted it, he drew from his pocket
the silver key which he had so carefully preserved.
"Accident made me the custodian of this key, which I found on the
floor the day of Elsie's burial. Knowing that it belonged to your
escritoire, whence I saw you take it, I thought it best not to commit
it to a servant's care, and have kept it in my pocket until I thought
you might need it."
Although the room was growing dim, he detected the expression of dread
that crossed her countenance, and saw her bite her thin lip with
vexation.
"You have worn for one month the key of my desk, where lie all my
papers and records; and when I was so desperately ill, I presume you
looked into the drawers, merely to ascertain whether I had prepared my
will?"
The mockery of her tone stung him keenly, but he allowed no evidence
of the wound to escape him. Bending over her as she sat partially
erect, supported by cushions, he took her white face tenderly in his
hands, and said, very calmly and gently,--
"When you know me better, you will realize how groundless is your
apprehension that I have penetrated into the recesses of your
writing-desk. Knowing that it contained valuable papers, I guarded it
as jealously as you could have done; and, upon the honor of a
gentleman, I assure you I am as ignorant of its contents as if I had
never entered the house. When I consider it essential to my peace of
mind to become acquainted with your antecedents, I shall come to you
and ask what I desire to learn. While you were so ill, I told Robert
that your friends should be notified of your imminent danger, and
inquired of him whether you had made a will, as I deemed it my duty to
inform your agent of your alarming condition. He either could not or
would not give me any satisfactory reply, and there the matter ended.
When I am gone, do not reproach yourself for having so unjustly
impugned my motives, for I shall not allow myself to believe that you
really entertain so contemptible an opinion of me; and shall ascribe
your hasty accusation to mere momentary chagrin and pique."
"Ah, sir! you ought not to wonder that I am so suspicious; you--but
how can you understand the grounds of my distrust, unless--"
"Hush! We will not discuss a matter which can only excite and annoy
you. Mrs. Gerome, under all circumstances you may unhesitatingly trust
me, and I beg to assure you I shall never divulge anything confided to
me. You need a friend, and perhaps some day you may consider me worthy
to serve you in that capacity; meantime, as your physician, I shall
continue to watch over and control you. To-day you have cruelly
overtasked your exhausted system, and I can not permit you to remain
here any longer. Come immediately to your own room."
His manner was so quietly authoritative that she obeyed instantly, and
when he lifted her from the sofa, she took his arm, and walked towards
the door. Before they had crossed the hall, he felt her reel and lean
more heavily against him, and silently he took the thin form in his
arms, and carried her to her room.
The gray head was on his shoulder, and the cold marble cheek touched
his, as he laid her softly down on her bed and arranged her pillows.
He rang for Katie, and, in crossing the floor, stepped on something
hard. It was too dusky in the closely curtained apartment to see any
object so small, but he swept his hand across the carpet and picked up
the key that had slipped from her nerveless fingers. Placing it beside
her, he smiled and said,--
"You are incorrigibly careless. Are you not afraid to tax my curiosity
so severely, and tempt me so pertinaciously, by strewing your keys in
my path? The next time I pick up this one, which belongs to your
escritoire, I shall engage some one to act as your guardian. Katie, be
sure she takes that tonic mixture three times a day. Good-night."
When the sound of his retreating footsteps died away, Mrs. Gerome
thrust the key under her pillow, and murmured,--
"I wonder whether this Ulpian can be as true, as trusty, as nobly
fearless as his grand old Roman namesake, whom not even the purple of
Severus could save from martyrdom? Ah! if Ulpian Grey is really all
that he appears. But how dare I hope, much less believe it? Verily, he
reminds me of Madame de Chatenay's description of Joubert, 'He seems
to be a soul that by accident had met with a body, and tried to make
the best of it.'"
"Did you speak to me, ma'am?" asked Katie, who was bustling about,
preparing to light the lamp.
"No. The room is like a tomb. Open the blinds and loop back all the
curtains, so that I can look out."
"And the sunset paled, and warmed once more
With a softer, tenderer after-glow;
In the east was moon-rise, with boats off-shore
And sails in the distance drifting slow."