Vashti Part 29

"Wait an instant, Salome; you have almost ruined your dress."

He was endeavoring to disentangle the shreds from the jagged edge of the spur, but she bent down, and, seizing the skirt in both hands, tore it away, leaving a large fragment trailing from the boot-heel.

"'More haste, less speed.' Patience is better than petulance, my young friend."

His grave, reproving voice, rendered her defiant; and, with a forced, unnatural laugh, she bowed, and hurried away, saying, as she looked over her shoulder,--

"And spurs than persuasion? You mistake my nature."

Dr. Grey had been riding, all the morning, across a broken stretch of country, where the roads were exceedingly insecure, and, as he removed the troublesome spur and laid it on the mantelpiece, he folded up the strip of muslin and put it into his pocket.

"I am waiting for you," cried Muriel, from the hall door.

He sighed, and went to his buggy; but the cloud did not melt from his brow, for, as he drove off, he noticed Salome's gleaming eyes peering from the window of her room; and pity and pain mingled in the emotions with which he recalled his sister's warning words.

"Muriel, here is your letter, and, better still, Gerard will be with us to-morrow. Diplomatic affairs brought him temporarily to Washington, and he will spend next week with us. I cordially congratulate you, my dear child, and hastened home to bring you the good news, which I felt a.s.sured you would prefer to receive without witnesses."

Muriel's blushing face was bent over her letter; but she put her hand on her guardian's, and pressed it vigorously.

"A thousand thanks for all your goodness! Gerard writes that it was through your influence he was enabled to visit Washington; and, indeed, dear Dr. Grey, we are both very grateful for your kind interest in our happiness. Even poor papa could not be more considerate."

"For several days past I have observed that you were unusually depressed, and that Miss Dexter looked constrained. Are you not pleasantly situated in my sister's house. Do not hesitate to speak frankly."

Muriel's eyes filled with tears, and she answered, evasively,--

"Miss Jane is very kind and affectionate."

"Which means that Salome is not."

"Dr. Grey, why does she dislike me so seriously? I have tried to be friendly and cordial towards her; but she constantly repels me. I really admire her very much; but I am afraid she positively hates me."

"No, that is impossible; but she is a very peculiar, and, I am sorry to be forced to say, an unamiable girl, and is governed by every idle caprice. I hope that you will not allow yourself to be annoyed by any want of courtesy which she may unfortunately have displayed. Although a member of the household, Salome has no right to dispense or to withhold the hospitalities of my sister's home, or to insult her guests; and I trust that her individual whims will have no effect whatever upon you, unless they create a feeling of compa.s.sion and toleration in your kind heart. She has some good traits hidden under her _brusquerie_, and when you know her better you will excuse her rudeness."

"Why is she so moody? I have not seen a pleasant smile on her face since I came here."

"My dear child, let us select some more agreeable topic for discussion. Gerard will probably arrive on the early train, which will enable him to breakfast with us to-morrow. He will endeavor to persuade you to return at once to Europe; but I must tell you, in advance of his proposal, that I hope you will not yield to his wishes, since it would grieve me to part with you so soon."

Muriel turned aside her head to avoid her guardian's penetrating gaze, and silently listened to his counsel concerning the course she should pursue towards her betrothed.

For a year they had been affianced without the knowledge of her father, from whom she had been separated; but the frankness with which both had discussed the matter with Dr. Grey forbade the possibility of his withholding his approbation of the engagement; though he a.s.sured them he could not consent to its speedy consummation, as Muriel was too young and childish to appreciate the grave responsibility of such a step. Gerard Granville was several years older than his betrothed, and Dr. Grey had been astonished at his choice; but a long and intimate acquaintance led him to esteem the young man so highly, that, while he felt that Muriel was far inferior, he strove to stimulate her ambition, and hoped she would one day be fully worthy of him.

To-day Dr. Grey drove for an hour through quiet, unfrequented country roads; and finally, when Muriel expressed herself anxious to catch a glimpse of the sea and a breath of its brine, he turned into a narrow track that led down to some fishermen's huts on the beach.

While they paused on the edge of the low, yellow strand, and inhaled the fresh ocean air, Dr. Grey grew silent, and his companion fell into a blissful reverie relative to to-morrow's events. Suddenly he placed his hand on her arm, and said, "Listen! What a wonderfully sweet, flexible voice! Surely, fishermen's wives are not singing Mendelssohn's compositions? Did you hear that gush of melody? It comes not from that house, but seems floating from the opposite direction. Such strains almost revive one's faith in the Hindoo _Gandharvas_,--musical genii, filling the air with ravishing sounds.

There! is it not exquisite? Hold these reins while I ascertain who owns that marvellous voice."

Eager and curious as a boy, he sprang from the buggy, and, following the bend of the beach, pa.s.sed two small deserted huts, and plunged into a grove of stunted trees, whence issued the sound that attracted his attention. Ere he had proceeded many yards he saw a woman sitting on a bank of sand and oyster-sh.e.l.ls, and singing from an open sheet of music, while she made rapid gestures with one hand. Her face was turned from him, but, as he cautiously approached, the _pose_ of the figure, the n.o.ble contour of the head and neck, and a certain muslin dress which matched the strip in his pocket, made his heart beat violently. Intent only on solving the mystery, he stepped softly towards her; but just then a brace of plover started up at his feet, and, as they whirred away, the woman turned her head, and he found himself face to face with his musician.

"Salome!"

"Well, Dr. Grey."

She had risen, and a beautiful glow overspread her cheeks, as she met his eyes.

"What brings you to this lonely spot, three miles from home, when the sun has already gone down?"

"Have I not as unquestionable a right to walk alone to the seaside as you to drive your ward whithersoever you list? Poverty, as well as wealth, sometimes makes people strangely independent. What have you done with Miss Muriel Manton?"

There was such a sparkle in her eyes, such a bright flush on her polished cheeks and parted lips, that Dr. Grey wondered at her beauty, which had never before impressed him as so extraordinary.

"Salome, why have you concealed your musical gift from me? Who taught you to sing?"

"I am teaching myself, with such poor aid as I can obtain from that miserable vagabond, Barilli, who is generally intoxicated three days out of every six. Did you expect to find Heine's yellow-haired Loreley, or a treacherous Ligeia, sitting on a rock, wooing pa.s.sers-by to speedy destruction?"

"I certainly did not expect to meet my friend Salome alone at this hour and place. Child, do not trifle with me,--be truthful. Did you come here to meet any one?"

"One never knows what may or may not happen. I came here to practise my music lesson, _sans_ auditors, and I meet Dr. Grey,--the last person I expected or desired to see."

He came a step nearer, and put his hand on her shoulder.

"Salome, you distress and perplex me. My child, are you better or worse than I think you?"

She lifted her slender hand and laid it lightly on his, which still rested upon her shoulder.

"I am both,--better and worse. Better in aim than you believe; worse in execution than you could realize, even if I confessed all, which I have not the slightest intention of doing. Ah, Dr. Grey, if you read me thoroughly, you would not be surprised, or consider it presumptuous that I sometimes think I am that anomalous creature, whom Balzac defined as 'Angel through love, demon through fantasy, child through faith, sage through experience, man through the brain, woman through the heart, giant through hope, and poet through dreams.'"

As Dr. Grey looked down into the splendid eyes, softened and magnified by a crystal veil of unshed tears, he sighed, and answered,--

"You are, indeed, a bundle of contradictions. Why have you so sedulously concealed the existence of your fine voice, which the majority of girls would have been eager to exhibit?"

"It was not lack of vanity, but excess, that prompted me to keep you in ignorance, until I could astonish you by its perfection. You have antic.i.p.ated me only by a few days, and I intended singing for you next week."

"It is not prudent for you to venture so far from home, especially at this hour."

"We paupers are not so fastidious as our lucky superiors, and cannot afford timid airs, and affectation of extreme nervousness. Having no escort, and expecting none, I walk alone in any direction I choose, with what fearlessness and contentment I find myself able to command."

"It will be dark before you can reach the public road."

"No, sir; there is a young moon swinging above the tree-tops, to light me on my lonesome ramble; and I come here so often that even the rabbits and whippoorwills know me. Where is Miss Muriel?"

"Waiting in the buggy, on the beach. I must go back to her."

"Yes. Pray do not delay an instant, or she will imagine that some dire calamity has befallen her knight, who, in hunting a siren, encountered Scylla or Charybdis. Good evening, Dr. Grey."

"I am unwilling to leave you here so unprotected. Come and ride with Muriel, and I will walk beside the buggy. My horse is so gentle that a child can guide him."

"Thank you. Not for a ten-acre lot in Mohammed's Paradise would I mar Miss Muriel's happiness, or punish myself by a _tete-a-tete_ with her.

It would be positively 'discourteous' in me to accept your proposal; and, moreover, I abhor division,--_tout ou rien_."