Vashti Part 15

"I saw Ulpian just now. Where is he?"

"He will be here this afternoon, I hope. The train is due at two o'clock, and it is now a quarter past twelve."

"I tell you I saw him not ten minutes since."

"You are feverish, dear Miss Jane, and have been dreaming."

"Don't contradict me! Am I in my dotage, think you? I saw my boy, and he was pale, and had blood on his hands, and it ran down his beard and dripped on his vest. You can't deceive me! What is the matter with my poor boy? I will see him! Give me my crutches this instant!"

She struggled into a partially upright position, but fell back upon her pillow exhausted and panting for breath.

"You were delirious. I give you my word that he has not yet come home.

It was only a horrible dream. Hester will a.s.sure you of the truth of what I say. You must lie still, for this excitement will injure you."

The nurse gave her a powerful sedative, and strove to divert her thoughts; but ever and anon she shuddered and whispered,--

"It was not a dream. I saw my dear sailor-boy, and he was hurt and bleeding. I know what I saw; and if you and Hester swore till every star dropped out of heaven, I would not believe you. If I am old and dying, my eyes are better than yours. My poor Ulpian!"

Despite her knowledge of the feverish condition of the sick woman, and her incredulity with reference to the vision that so painfully disturbed her, Salome's lips blanched, and a vague, nameless, horrible dread seized her heart.

Very soon Miss Jane fell into a heavy sleep, and, while the nurse busied herself in preparing a bottle of beef-tea, the orphan sat with her head pressed against the bedpost, and her eyes riveted on the face of the watch in her palm, where the minute-hand seemed now and then to stop, as if for breathing-time, and the hour-hand to have forgotten the way to two o'clock.

For nearly six months Salome had counted the weeks and days,--had waited and hoped for the hour of Dr. Grey's return as the happiest of her life,--had imagined his greeting, the bright, steady glow in his fine eyes, the warm, cordial pressure of his white hand, the friendly tones of his pleasant voice; for, though he had failed to bid her good-by, fate could not cheat her out of the interview that must follow his arrival. Fancy had painted so vividly all the incidents that would characterize this longed-for greeting, that she had lived it over a thousand times; and, now that the meeting seemed actually at hand, she asked herself whether it were possible that disappointment could pour one poisonous drop into the br.i.m.m.i.n.g draught of joy that rose foaming in amber bubbles to her parched lips.

In the profound silence that pervaded the darkened room, the ticking of the watch was annoyingly audible, and seemed to Salome's strained and excited nerves so unusually loud that she feared it might disturb the sleeper. At a quarter to two o'clock she went to the hearth and noiselessly renewed the fire, laying two fresh pieces of oak across the shining bra.s.s andirons, whose feet represented lions' heads.

She swept the hearth, arranged some vials that were scattered on the dressing-table, and gave a few improving touches to a vase filled with white and orange crocuses, then crept back to the bedside and again picked up the watch. It still lacked fifteen minutes of two, and, looking more closely, she found that it had stopped. Tossing it into a hollow formed by the folds of the coverlid, and repressing an impatient e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.i.o.n, she listened for the sound of the railroad whistle, which, though m.u.f.fled by distance, had not failed to reach her every day during the past week.

Presently the silence, which made her ears ache, throbbed so suddenly that she started, but it was only the "cuckoo! cuckoo!" of the painted bird on the gilded clock. That clock was fifteen minutes slower than Miss Jane's watch; and Salome put her face in her hands, and tried to still the loud thumping sound of the blood at her heart.

The train was behind time. Only a few moments as yet, but something must have happened to occasion even this slight delay; and, if something,--what?

Hester came in and whispered,--

"Dinner is ready, and Stanley is hungry. Has Miss Jane stirred since I went out?"

"No; what time is it?"

"Half after two."

"Oh, nonsense! You are too fast."

"Not a minute,--begging your pardon. My brother stays at the depot, and keeps my watch with the railroad time."

Salome went to the dining-room, gave Stanley his dinner, and, anxious to escape observation, shut herself in the dim, cold parlor, where she paced the floor until the cuckoo jumped out, chirped three times, and, as if frightened by the girl's fixed eyes, fluttered back inside the clock. More than an hour behind time! Now, beyond all hope or doubt, there had been an accident! Loss of sleep for several consecutive nights, and protracted anxiety concerning Miss Jane, had so unnerved the orphan that she was less able to cope successfully with this harrowing suspense than on former occasions; still the sanguine hopefulness of youth battled valiantly with the ghouls that apprehension conjured up, and she remembered that comparatively trivial occurrences had sometimes detained the train, which finally brought all its human freight safely to the depot.

The day had been very cold and gloomy; and thick, low ma.s.ses of smoke-colored cloud scudded across the chill sky, whipped along their skirts by a stinging north-east blast into dun, ragged, trailing banners. Despite the keenness of the air, Salome opened one of the parlor windows and leaned her face on the broad sill, where a drizzling rain began to show itself. She had read and heard just enough with reference to the phenomena of _clairvoyance_ to sneer at them in happy hours, and to recur helplessly to the same subject with a species of silent dread when misfortune seemed imminent. To-day, as Miss Jane's delirious utterances haunted every nook and cranny of her excited brain, permeating all topics of thought, she recalled many instances, on legendary record, where the dying were endowed with talismanic power over the secrets of futurity. Could it be possible that Miss Jane had really seen what was taking place many miles distant? Reason shook her h.o.a.ry head, and jeered at such childish fatuity; but superst.i.tious credulity, goaded by an intense anxiety, would not be silenced nor put to the blush, but boldly babbled of Swedenborg and burning Stockholm.

Once she had heard Dr. Grey tell his sister, in answer to some inquiry concerning the _arcana_ of mesmerism, that he had bestowed much time and thought upon the investigation of the subject, and was thoroughly convinced that there existed subtle psychological laws whose operations were not yet comprehended, but which, when a.n.a.lyzed and studied, would explain the remarkable influence of mind over mind, and prove that the dread and baffling mysteries of psychology were merely normal developments of intellectual power instead of supernatural or spiritual manifestations.

This abstract view of the matter was, however, most unsatisfactory at the present juncture; and the current of Salome's reflections was abruptly changed by the sound of the locomotive whistle,--not the prolonged, steady roar, announcing arrival, but the sharp, short, shrill note of departure. Soon after, the clock struck four, and, ere the echoes fell asleep once more in the sombre corners of the quiet parlor, Dr. Sheldon drove up to the front door and entered the house.

Springing into the hall, Salome met him, and laid her hand on his arm.

"Salome, your face frightens me. How is Miss Jane? Has she grown worse so rapidly since I was here this morning?"

"I see little change in her. But you have locked bad news behind your set teeth. Oh, for G.o.d's sake, don't torture me one second longer!

Tell me the worst. What has happened?"

"The down-train was thrown from an embankment twenty feet high, and the cars took fire. Many lives have been sacrificed, and it is the most awful affair I ever heard of."

He had partially averted his head to avoid the sight of her whitening and convulsed features; but, laying her hands heavily upon his shoulders, she forced him to face her, and her voice sank to a husky whisper,--

"Is he dead?"

"I hope not."

"Speak out,--or I shall go mad! Is he dead?"

"Calm yourself, Salome, and let us hope for the best. We know nothing of the particulars of this dreadful disaster, and have learned the names of none of the sufferers. I have little doubt that Dr. Grey was on the train, but there is no certainty that he was injured. The regular up-train could not leave as usual, because the track was badly torn up; but a locomotive and three cars ran out a while ago with several surgeons and articles required for the victims. Pray sit down, my poor child, for you are unable to stand."

"Where did it happen?"

"Near Silver Run water-tank,--about forty miles from here. The accident occurred at twelve o'clock."

Salome's grasp suddenly relaxed, and, tossing her hands above her head, she laughed hysterically,--

"Ha, ha! Thank G.o.d, he is not dead! He is only hurt,--only bleeding.

Miss Jane saw it all, and he is not dead, or she would have known it.

Thank G.o.d!"

Dr. Sheldon was a stern man and renowned for his iron nerves, but he shuddered as he looked at the pinched, wan face, and heard the unnatural, hollow sound of her unsteady voice. Had care, watching, and suspense unpoised her reason?

Something of that which pa.s.sed through his mind looked out of his eyes, and interpreting their amazed expression, the girl waved her hand towards the door, and added,--

"I am not insane. Go in, and Hester will explain."

He turned away, and she went back to the dusky room and threw herself down on the sofa, opposite to the portrait of the U.S. surgeon.

Of what pa.s.sed during the following two hours, she retained, in after years, only a dim, confused, painful memory of prayers and promises made to G.o.d in behalf of the absent.

Once before, when Miss Jane's death seemed imminent, she had been grieved and perplexed by the possibility that Dr. Grey would inherit the estate and usurp her domains; but to-day, when the Great Reaper hovered over the panting, emaciated sufferer, and simultaneously threatened the distant brother and sole heir of the extended possessions which this girl had so long coveted, the only thought that filled her heart with dread and wrung half-smothered cries from her lips was,--

"Spare his life, oh, my G.o.d! Leave me penniless--take friends, relatives, comforts, hopes of wealth--take all--take everything, but spare that precious life and bring him safely back to me! Have mercy on me, O Lord, and do not s.n.a.t.c.h him away! for, if I lose him now, I lose faith in Christ--in Thee--I lose all hope in time and eternity, and my sinful, wrecked soul will go down forever in a night that knows no dawning!"

For six months she had been indeed,--

"A faded watcher through the weary night-- A meek, sweet statue at the silver shrines, In deep, perpetual prayer for him she loved;"

but patience, dragging anchor, finally snapped its cable, and now, instead of an humble suppliant for the boon that alone made existence endurable, she fiercely demanded that her idol should not be broken, and, battling with Jehovah, impiously thrust her life down before Him as an accursed and intolerable burden, unless her prayers were granted. Ah, what scorpions and stones we gather to our boards, and then dare charge the stinging mockeries against a long-suffering, loving G.o.d! Ten days before, Salome had meekly prayed, "Thy will be done," and had comforted herself with the belief that at last she was beginning to grow pious and trusting, like Miss Jane; but, at the first hint of harm to Dr. Grey, she sprang up, utterly oblivious of the protestations of resignation that were scarcely cold on her lips, and furious as a tigress who sees the hunter approach the jungle where all her fierce affections centre. G.o.d help as all who pray orthodoxly for His will, and yet, when the emergency arrives, fight desperately for our own, feeling wofully aggrieved that He takes us at our word, and moulds the clay which we make a Pharisaical pretense of offering!