Vashti Part 11

"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 a.s.sociated 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 p.r.o.nouncing 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-gla.s.s 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 s.e.x.

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 gla.s.ses, 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-sc.r.a.pes" 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 gra.s.s, and the shy cicadae ambushed under the clover leaves--her pent-up pain and disappointment bubbled over in a gush of pa.s.sionate 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 G.o.d! I can't afford to doubt it. No one but his sister has touched his lips, or his n.o.ble, 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, n.o.body 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 G.o.d, 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-gra.s.s,--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 compa.s.sionately 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 pa.s.sed 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 G.o.d, 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 G.o.d, 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 ign.o.ble 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 pa.s.sage that she had first heard from Dr. Grey's lips,--

"'G.o.d 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 circ.u.mstances, 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 gra.s.s 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-m.u.f.fled 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 paG.o.da 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?"