CHAPTER X.
“Yes, Hester, the danger is past; and, if the weather continues favorable, my sister will soon be able to sit up. My gratitude prompts me to erect an altar here, where the mercy of God stayed the Destroying Angel, as in ancient days David consecrated the threshing-floor of Araunah.”
“Dr. Grey, if you can possibly spare me, I should like to go back to town to-day as Dr. Sheldon has sent for me to take charge of a patient at his Infirmary.”
“You ought not to desert me while I am so comparatively helpless; and I should be glad to have you remain, at least until I recover the use of my hands.”
“Miss Salome can take my place, and do all that is really necessary.”
“The child is so inexperienced I am almost afraid to trust her; still—”
“Don’t speak so loud. She is standing behind the window-curtain.”
“Indeed! I thought she left the room when I entered it. Of course, Hester, I will not detain you if it is necessary that you should be at the Infirmary; but I give you up very reluctantly. Salome, if you are at leisure, please come and see how Hester dresses my hand and arm, for I must rely upon your kind services when she leaves us. Notice the manner in which she winds the bandages. There, Hester,—not quite so tight.”
“Dr. Grey, I never had an education, and am at best an ignorant, poor soul: therefore, not knowing what to think about many curious things that happen in sick-rooms, I should be glad to hear what you have to say concerning that vision of your sister. Remember, she saw it at the very minute that the accident happened. I don’t believe in spirit-rapping, and such stuff as dancing tables, and spinning chairs, and pianos that play tunes when no human being is near 124 them; but I have heard and seen things that made the hair rise and stand on my head.”
“The circumstance that occurred three days since is certainly rather singular and remarkable, but by no means inexplicable. My sister knew that I was then travelling by railroad,—that I would, without some unusual delay, reach the dépot at a certain hour, and, being in a delirious condition, her mind reverted to the probability of some occurrence that might detain me. Having always evinced a peculiar aversion to railroads, which she deems the most unsafe method of travelling, she had a feverish dream that took its coloring from her excited apprehension of danger to me; and this vision, born of delirium, was so vivid that she could not distinguish phantom from reality. In ninety-nine cases out of every hundred similar ones, the dream passes without fulfilment, and is rarely recollected or mentioned; but the hundredth—which may chance by some surprising coincidence to seem verified—is noised abroad as supernatural, and carefully preserved among ‘well-authenticated spiritual manifestations.’ If I had escaped injury, the freaks of my sister’s delirium would have made no more impression on your mind than the ravings of a lunatic; and, since I was so unfortunate as to be bruised and burned, you must not allow yourself to grow superstitious, and attach undue importance to a circumstance which was entirely accidental, and only startling because so exceedingly rare. Presentiments, especially when occurring in cases of fever, are merely Will-o-the-wisps floating about in excited, diseased brains. While at sea, and constantly associated with sailors, whose minds constitute the most favorable and fruitful soil for the production of phantasmagoria and diablerie, I had frequent opportunities of testing the fallacy and absurdity of so-called ‘presentiments and forebodings.’ I am afraid it is the absence of spirituality in the hearts of the people, that drives this generation to seek supernaturalism in the realm of merely normal physics. The only true spiritualism is that which emanates from the Holy Ghost,—conquers sinful impulses, and makes a Christian heart the temple of God.”
Here Miss Jane called Hester into the adjoining room; and turning to Salome, Dr. Grey added,—
“Notwithstanding the vaunted destruction of the ancient Hydra of superstition by the darts and javelins of modern rationalism, and the ponderous hot irons of empirics, it is undeniably true that the habit of ‘seeking after a sign’ survived the generation of Scribes and Pharisees whom Christ rebuked; and manifests itself in the middle of the nineteenth century by the voracity with which merely material phenomena are seized as unmistakable indications of preternatural agencies. The innate leaven of superstition triumphs over common sense and scientific realism, and men and women are awed by coincidences that reason scouts, but credulity receives with open arms. Salome, I regret exceedingly that I am forced to trouble you, but there are some important letters which I wish to mail to-day, and you will greatly oblige me by acting as amanuensis while I dictate. My present disabled condition must apologize for the heavy tax which I am imposing upon your patience and industry. Will you come to the library?”
She made no protestations of willingness to serve him, and confessed no delight at the prospect of being useful, but merely bowed and smiled, with an expression in her eyes that puzzled him.
Seated at the library-table, and writing down the sentences that he dictated while pacing the floor, Salome passed one of the happiest hours of her life; for it brought the blessed assurance that, for the present at least, he acknowledged his need of her.
One of the letters was addressed to Mr. Gerard Granville, an attaché of the American legation at Paris, and referred principally to financial affairs; and the other, directed to Muriel Manton, contained an urgent request that she and her governess would leave New York as speedily as possible and become inmates of his sister’s house.
When she had folded the letters and sealed them with his favorite emerald signet,—bearing the words, “Frangas non Flectes,”—Salome looked up, and asked,—
“How old is your ward, Miss Manton?”
“About your age,—though she looks much more childish.”
“Pretty, of course?”
“Why ‘of course’?”
“Simply because in novels they are always painted as pretty as Persephone; and the only wards I ever knew happen to be fictitious characters.”
“Novels are by no means infallible mirrors of nature, and few wards are as attractive as my black-eyed pet. Muriel will be very handsome, I hope, when she is grown; but now she impresses me as merely sweet, piquant, and pretty.”
“Did you know her prior to your recent visit?”
“Yes; her father’s house was my home whenever I chanced to be in New York, and I have seen her, occasionally, since she was a little girl. For your sake, as well as mine, I am glad she will reside here, because I hope she will prove in every respect a pleasant companion for you.”
“Thank you; but, unfortunately, that is one luxury of which I never felt the need, and with which, permit me to tell you, I can readily dispense. I have little respect for women, and no desire to be wearied with their inane garrulity.”
She leaned back in her chair, and tapped restlessly with the end of the pen-staff on the morocco-covered table.
Dr. Grey looked down steadily and gravely into her provokingly defiant face, and replied very coldly,—
“Were I in your place, I think I should jealously guard my lips from the hasty utterance of sentiments that, if unfeigned, ought to bring a blush to every true woman’s cheek; for I fear that she who has no respect for her own sex bids fair to disgrace it.”
A scarlet wave rolled up from throat to temples, and the lurking yellow gleamed in her eyes, but the bend of her nostril and curve of her lips did not relax.
“Which is preferable, hypocrisy or irreverence?”
“Both are unpardonable, in a woman.”
“Where is your vast charity, Dr. Grey?”
“Busy in sheltering that lofty ideal of genuine female perfection 127 which you seem so pertinaciously ambitious to sully and degrade.”
“You are harsh, and scarcely courteous.”
“You will never find me less so when you vauntingly exhibit such mournful blemishes of character.”
“At least, sir, I am honest, and show myself just what God saw fit to allow misfortune to make me.”
“Hush, Salome! Do not add impiousness to the long catalogue of your sinful follies. I hoped that there was a favorable change in you before I left home, but I very much fear that, instead of exorcising the one evil spirit that possessed you, you have swept, and garnished, and settled yourself comfortably with seven new ones.”
“And, like R. Chaim Vital, you come to pronounce Nidui! and banish my diabolical guests. If cauterization cures moral ulcers as effectually as those that afflict the flesh, then, verily, you intend I shall be clean and whole. You are losing patience with your graceless neophyte.”
“Yes, Salome; because forced to lose faith in her inclination and capacity to sublimate her erring nature. Once for all, let me say that habitual depreciation of your own sex will not elevate you in the estimation of mine; for, however fallen you may find mankind, they nevertheless realize amid their degradation that,—
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‘’Tis somewhat to have known, albeit in vain, One woman in this sorrowful, bad earth, Whose very loss can yet bequeath to pain New faith in worth.’” |
There was no taunt, no bitterness, in his voice; but grievous disappointment, too deep for utterance; and the girl winced under it, though only the flush burning on cheek and brow attested her vulnerability.
“Remember, sir, that humanity was not moulded entirely from one stratum of pipe-clay. Only a few wear paint, enamelling, and gold as delicate costly Sèvres; and, while the majority are only coarse pottery, it is scarcely kind—certainly not generous—in dainty, transparent china, belonging to 128 king’s palaces, to pity or denounce the humble Delft or Wedgewoodware doing duty in laborer’s cottages.”
“Very true, my poor little warped, blotched bit of perverse pottery; but of one vital truth permit me to assure you: the purity and elevation of our race depend upon preserving inviolate in the hearts of men a belief that women’s natures are crystalline as that celebrated glass once made at Murano, which was so exceedingly fine and delicate that it burst into fragments if poison was poured into it.”
“Then, obviously, I am no Venetian goblet; else long ago I should have shattered under the bitter, black juices poured by fate. It seems I am not worthy to touch the lips of doges and grand dukes; but let them look to it that some day, when spent and thirsty, they stretch not their regal hands for the common clay that holds what all their costly, dainty fragments can never yield. Nous verrons! ‘The stone which the builders rejected has become the head of the corner.’”
Dr. Grey had resumed his walk, but the half-suppressed, passionate protest, whose underswell began to agitate her voice, arrested his attention, and he came to the table and stood close to the orphan.
“What is the matter with my headstrong young friend?”
She made no answer; but her elfish eyes sought his, and braved their quiet rebuke.
“This is the last opportunity I shall offer you to tell me frankly what troubles you. Can I help you in any way? If so, command me.”
“Once you could have helped me, but that time has passed.”
“Perhaps not. Try me.”
“It is too late. You have lost faith in me.”
“No; you have lost all faith in yourself, if you ever indulged any,—which I very much doubt. It is you who are faithless concerning your own defective character.”
“Not I, indeed! I know it rather too well, either to set it aloft for adoration or to trample it in the mire. When your faith in me expired, mine was born. Do you recollect that beautiful painted window in Lincoln Cathedral which the untutored fingers of an apprentice fashioned out of the despised 129 bits of glass rejected by the fastidious master-builder? It is so vastly superior to every other in the church that the vanquished artist could not survive the chagrin and mortification, and killed himself. My faith is very strong, that, please God, I shall some day show you similar handiwork.”
“You grow enigmatical, and I do not fully understand you.”
“No; you do not in the least comprehend me. The girl whom you left six months ago has changed in many respects.”
“For better, or for worse?”
“Perhaps neither one nor yet the other; but, at least, sir, ‘my future will not copy fair my past.’”
“Since my return, I have noticed an alteration in your deportment, which, I regret to say, I cannot consider an improvement; and I should feel inclined to attribute your restless impatience to nervous disease were I not assured by your appearance that you are in perfect health. Remember, that quietude of manner constitutes a woman’s greatest charm; and, unfortunately, you seem almost a mimic mælstrom. But, pardon me, I did not intend to lecture you; and, hoping all things, I will patiently wait for the future that you seem to have dedicated to some special object. I will try to have faith in my perverse little friend, though she sometimes renders it a difficult task. May I trouble you to stamp those letters?”
He could not analyze the change that passed swiftly across her face, nor the emotion that made her suddenly clinch her hands till the rosy nails grew purple.
“Dr. Grey, don’t you believe that if Judas Iscariot had only resisted the temptation of the thirty pieces of silver, and stood by his master instead of betraying him, that his position in heaven would have been far more exalted than that of Peter, or even of John?”
“That is a question which I have never pondered, and am not prepared to discuss. Why do you propound it?”
She did not answer immediately; and, when she spoke, her glittering eyes softened in their expression, and resembled 130 stars rising through the golden mist of lingering sunset splendor.
“God gave you a nobler heart than mine, and left it an easy, pleasant matter for you to be good; while, struggle as I may, I am constantly in danger of tumbling into some slough of iniquity, or setting up false gods for my soul to bow down to. Because it is so much more difficult for me to do right than for you, it is only just that my reward should be correspondingly greater.”
“I am neither John nor Peter, nor are you Judas; and only He who knows our mutual faults and follies, our triumphs and defeats in the life-long campaign with sin, can judge us equitably. I am too painfully conscious of my own imperfections not to sympathize earnestly with the temptations that may assail you; and, moreover, we should never lose sight of the fact,—
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‘What’s done we partly may compute, But know not what’s resisted.’” |
“Dr. Grey, you have great confidence in the efficacy of prayer?”
“Yes; for without it human lives are rudderless, drifting to speedy wreck and ruin.”
“If I ask a favor, will you grant it?”
“Have I ever denied you anything that you asked?”
“Yes, sir,—your good opinion.”
“I knew that had you really desired that, you would long since have rendered it impossible for me to withhold it. But to the point,—what is your petition?”
“I want you to pray for me.”
“Salome, are you serious? Are you really in earnest?”
“Mournfully in earnest.”
“Then rest satisfied that henceforth you will always have a place in my prayer; but do not forget the greater necessity of praying for yourself. Now, tell me how you have been employed during my long absence. Where are the accumulated exercises which I promised to examine and correct when I returned?”
“Promised whom?”
“You.”
“You forget that I did not see you the day you left, and that you did not even bid me good-by.”
“I referred to your French exercises in a brief and hurried note that I left for you.”
“Left where? I never received—never heard of it.”
“I laid it upon your plate, where I supposed you would certainty notice it when you came home to dinner.”
“Why did not you give it to Miss Jane?”
“Simply because she was not in the room when I wrote it. It is rather surprising that it escaped your observation, as I laid it in a conspicuous place.”
She did not deem it necessary to inform him that on that unlucky day she had suddenly lost her appetite, and failed to go to the table; and now she put her fingers over her eyes to conceal the blaze of joyful light that irradiated them, as he mentioned the circumstance, comparatively trivial, but precious in her estimation, since it was freighted with the assurance that at least he had thought of her on the eve of his unexpected departure. What inexpressible comfort that note might have contributed during all those tedious months of silence and separation! While she sat there thinking of the dreary afternoon when, down in the orchard-grass she lay upon her face, Dr. Grey came nearer to her, and said,—
“I hope you have not abandoned your French?”
“No, sir; but I devote less time than formerly to it.”
“If agreeable to you, we will resume the exercises as soon as I can wield my pen.”
“If you can teach me Italian, I should prefer it; especially since I have learned to pronounce French tolerably well?”
“What use do you expect to have for Italian,—at least, at present? French is much more essential.”
“I have a good reason for desiring to make the change, though just now I do not choose to be driven into any explanations.”
“Pardon me. I had no intention of forcing your confidence. When in Italy, I always contrive to understand and 132 make myself understood; but my knowledge and use of the language is rather too slip-shod to justify my attempting to teach you idioms, hallowed as the medium through which Dante and Ariosto charmed the world. Miss Dexter, Muriel’s governess, is a very thorough and accomplished linguist, and speaks Italian not only gracefully but correctly. I have already engaged her to teach you whatever she may deem advisable when she comes here to live.”
“You are very kind. Is she a young person?”
“She is a very highly cultivated and elegant woman, probably twenty-five or six years old, and has been in Florence with Muriel.”
Involuntarily and unconsciously the orphan sighed, and the muscles in her broad forehead tangled terribly.
“Salome, please put your hand in the right pocket of my vest, and take out a key that ought to be there. No,—not that; a larger steel one. Now you have it. Will you be so good as to open that trunk which came by express yesterday (it is in the upper hall), and bring me a box wrapped in pink tissue-paper? I would not trouble you with so many commissions if I could use my hands.”
Unable longer to repress her feelings, the girl exclaimed eagerly,—
“If you could imagine what pleasure it affords me to render you the slightest service, I am very sure you would not annoy me with apologies for making me happy.”
In a few moments she returned to the library, bearing in her hand a small but heavy package, which she placed on the table before him.
“Please open it, and examine the contents.”
She obeyed him; and, after removing the wrapping, found a blue velvet case that opened with a spring and revealed a parcel enclosed in silver paper. Dr. Grey turned and walked to the window; and, as Salome took off the last covering, a watch and chain met her curious gaze. One side of the former was richly and elaborately chased, and represented Kronos leaning on his scythe; the other was studded with diamonds that flashed out the name “Salome.” Astonishment and 133 delight sealed the orphan’s lips, and, in silence, far more eloquent than words, she bowed her head upon the table. After a few moments had elapsed, Dr. Grey attempted to steal out of the room; but, being obliged to pass close by her chair, she put out her hand and arrested his movement.
“It is the most beautiful watch I have ever seen; but, oh, sir! how shall I sufficiently thank you? How can I express all that is throbbing here in my proud, grateful heart? Although the costly gift is elegant and tasteful, I hold still more precious the fact which it attests,—that during your absence you thought of me. How shall I begin to prove my gratitude for your kindness and generosity?”
“Do not thank me, my little friend; for, indeed I require no verbal assurances that my souvenir is kindly received and appreciated. Wear the watch; and let it continually remind you not only of the sincerity of my friendship, but of the far more important fact that every idle or injudiciously employed hour will cry out in accusation against us in the final assize, when we are called upon to render an account of the distribution of that invaluable time which God allows us solely for the accomplishment of His work on earth. It is so exceedingly difficult for young persons to realize how marvellously rapid is the flight of time, that you will, I trust, forgive me if I endeavor to impress upon you the vital importance of making each day fragrant with the burden of some good deed, the resistance of some sore temptation, some service rendered to God or to suffering humanity which shall make your years mellow with the fruitage that will entitle you to a glorious record in the golden book of Abou Ben Adhem’s angel. Let this little jewelled monitress of the fleeting, mocking nature of time, this ingenious toy, whose ticking is but the mournful, endless knell of dead seconds, remind you that,—
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“This life of ours, what is it? A very few Soon ended years, and then—the ceaseless psalm, And the eternal Sabbath of the soul.” |
As Salome looked up into his tranquil, happy face, two tears glided across her cheeks, and fell upon the pretty bauble.
“You will find a key in the case, and can wind it up, and set it by the clock in the parlor.”
“Dr. Grey, are you willing that my watch shall bear daily testimony of something which I hold far above its diamonds,—that you have faith in Salome Owen?”
“Perfectly willing that you should make it eloquent with all friendly utterances and sympathy. Hester has bound my arm so tightly that it impedes the circulation, and is very painful. Please loosen the bandage.”
She complied as carefully as possible, though her hands trembled; and, when the ligature had been comfortably adjusted and the arm restored to its sling, she stooped and pressed her lips softly and reverently to the cold, white fingers, that protruded from the linen bands. He endeavored ineffectually to prevent the caress, which evidently embarrassed him; but she left two kisses on the bruised hand, and, snatching her watch and chain from the table, hastily quitted the room.
In after years, when loneliness and disappointment pressed heavily upon her heart, she looked back to the three weeks that succeeded Dr. Grey’s return as the halcyon days, as the cloudless June morning of her life; and, in blissful retrospection, temporarily found Elysium.
She wrote his letters, read aloud from his favorite books, dressed and bandaged his blistered hand and fractured arm, and surrendered her heart to an intense and perfect happiness such as she had scarcely dared to hope would ever be her portion.