Vashti Part 31

"Why? Are you ashamed for me to hear what any strolling stranger, any unscrupulous vagabond, might have listened to?"

"It is such a desolate, lonely place, I thought no one would stumble upon me, and I have been there so often without meeting a living thing except the crabs and plover."

"You are no longer a child, and such rashness is altogether unpardonable. What do you suppose my sister would think of your imprudent obstinacy?"

They walked another mile, and again Salome convulsively pressed the cool, steady, strong hand, in which hers lay hot and quivering.

"Dr. Grey, tell me the truth,--don't torture me."

"What shall I tell you? You torture yourself."

"Did you hear what I was saying to my own heart?"

"I heard you repeating some lines which certainly should possess no relevancy for the real feeling of my young friend."

She s.n.a.t.c.hed her fingers from his, and he knew she covered her face with them.

They reached the gate at the end of the avenue, and Salome stopped suddenly, as the lights from the front windows flashed out on the lawn.

"Go in, and leave me."

She threw herself on the sward, under one of the elm-trees, and leaned her head against its trunk.

"I shall do no such thing, unless you desire the entire household to comment upon your reckless conduct."

"Oh, Dr. Grey, I care little now what the whole world thinks or says!

Let me be quiet, or I shall go mad."

"No; come into the house, and sing something to compensate me for the anxiety and fatigue you have cost me. I do not often ask a favor of you, and certainly in this instance you will not refuse to grant my request."

She did not reply, and he bent down and softly stroked the hair that was damp with dew and sea-fog.

The long-pent storm broke in convulsive sobs, and she trembled from head to foot, while tears poured over her burning cheeks.

"Poor child! Can you not confide in me?"

"Dr. Grey, will you forget all that has pa.s.sed to-day? Will you try never to think of it again?"

"On condition that you never repeat the offence."

"You do not despise me?"

"No."

"You pity me?"

"I pity any human being who is so unfortunate as to possess your wilful, perverse, pa.s.sionate disposition. Unless you overcome this dangerous tendency of character, you may expect only wretchedness and humiliation in coming years. I am sincerely sorry for you, but I tell you unhesitatingly, that I find it difficult to tolerate your grave and obtrusive faults."

She raised her clasped hands, and said, brokenly,--

"This is the last time I shall ever ask you to forgive me. Will you?"

"As freely and fully as a grieved brother ever forgave a wayward sister."

He took the folded hands, lifted her from the gra.s.s, and led her to a side door opening upon the east gallery.

"Dr. Grey, give me one kind word before I go."

The lamp-light from the hall shone full on his pale face, which was sterner than she had ever seen it, as he forcibly withdrew his hands from her tight clasp, and, putting her away from him, said, very coldly,--

"I exhausted my store of kind thoughts and words when I called you my sister."

He saw that she understood him, for she tried to hide her face, but a spasm pa.s.sed over it, and she would have fallen had he not caught her in his arms and carried her up to her own room.

Stanley was asleep with his head pillowed on his open geography, but the candle burned beside him, and Dr. Grey placed Salome on a lounge near the window, and sprinkled her face with water.

Kneeling by the low couch, he rubbed her hands vigorously with some cologne he found on her bureau; and, watching her pale, beautiful features, his heart swelled with compa.s.sion, and his calm eyes grew misty. Consciousness very soon returned, and when she saw the n.o.ble, sorrowful countenance, bent anxiously over her, she covered her face with her hands and moaned rather than spoke,--

"I can't endure your pity. Leave me with my self-contempt and degradation."

"My little sister, I leave you in G.o.d's merciful hands, and trust you to the guidance of your womanly pride and self-respect. Good-night. We will not engrave this unfortunate day on our tablets, but forget its record, save one fact, that for all time it makes me your brother; and, Salome,--

"'So we'll not dream, nor look back, dear, But march right on, content and bold, To where our life sets heavenly clear,-- Westward, behind the hills of gold.'"

CHAPTER XVI.

"Dr. Grey, who is that beautiful girl to whom Muriel introduced me this morning? I was so absorbed in admiration of her face that I lost her name."

As he spoke, Mr. Gerard Granville struck the ashes from his cigar, and walked up to the table where Dr. Grey was sealing some letters.

"Her name is Salome Owen, and she is my sister's adopted child."

"What is her age, if I may be pardoned such impertinent queries?"

"I believe she has entered her eighteenth year."

"She is a regal beauty, and shows proud blood as plainly as any princess."

"Take care, Granville; imagination has cantered away with your penetration. Salome's family were coa.r.s.e and common, though doubtless honest people. Her father was a drunken miller, who died in an attack of delirium tremens, and left his children as a legacy to the county.

I merely mention these deplorable facts to show you that your boasted penetration is not entirely infallible."

"Miller or millionaire,--the girl would grace any court in Europe, and only lacks a dash of _aplomb_ to make her irresistible. I have seen few faces that attracted and interested me so powerfully."

"Yes, she certainly is very handsome; but I do not agree with you in thinking that she lacks _aplomb_. Granville, if you have finished your cigar, we will adjourn to the parlor, where the ladies are taking their tea."