“MOTHER, I am afraid Mrs. Gerome does not like this
place, or the furniture, or something, for she has not
spoken a kind word about the house since she came.
She looks closely at everything, but says nothing. What do you
suppose she thinks?”

Robert Maclean, the gardener at “Solitude,” paused abruptly,
as his mother pinched his arm sharply and whispered, —

“Whist! There she comes down the azalea walk; and no one
likes to stumble upon their own name when they are not expecting
the sound or sight of it. No; she has turned off towards
the cedars, and does not see us. As to her likes and dislikes,
there is nothing this side of heaven that will content her; and
you might have known better than to suppose she would be much
pleased with anything. No matter what she thinks, she seldom
complains, and it is hard to find out her views; but she told me
to tell you that she approved all you had done, and thanked you
for the pains you have taken to arrange things comfortably.”

[figure description] Page 074.[end figure description]

Old Elsie tied the strings of her white muslin cap, and turned
her back to the wind that was playing havoc with its freshly
fluted frills.

“Mother, I heard her laugh yesterday, for the first time. It
was a short, quick, queer little laugh, but it pleased me greatly.
The cook had set some duck-eggs under that fine black Spanish
hen; and, when they hatched, she marched off with the brood
into the fowl-yard, where they made straight for the duck-pool
and sailed in. The hen set up such a din and clatter that Mrs.
Gerome, who happened to get a glimpse of them, felt sorry for
the poor frightened fowl, and tried to drive the little ones out
of the water; but, whenever she put her hand towards them
to catch the nearest, the whole brood would quack and dive, —
and, when she had laughed that one short laugh, she called to
me to look after them and went back to the house. You don't
know how strangely that laugh sounded.”

“Don't I? Speak for yourself, Robert. I have heard her
laugh twice, but it was when she was asleep, and it was an uncanny,
bitter sound, — about as welcome to my ears as her deathrattle.
Last night she did not close her eyes, — did not even
undress; and the hall clock was striking three this morning
when I heard her open the piano and play one of those dismal,
frantic, wailing things she calls `fugues,' that make the hair rise
on my head and every inch of my flesh creep as if a stranger
were treading on my grave. When she was a baby, cutting her
eye-teeth, she had a spasm; and, seeing her straighten herself
out and roll back her eyes till only the white balls showed, I
took it for granted she was about to die, and, holding her in my
arms, I fell on my knees and prayed that she might be spared.
Well, now, Robert, I am sorry I put up that petition, for the
Lord knew best; and it would have been a crowning mercy if
he had paid no attention to my half-crazy pleadings and taken
her home then. What meddling fools we all are! I thought,
at that time, it would break my heart to shroud her sweet little
body; but ah! I would rather have laid my precious baby in her
coffin, with violets under her fingers, than live to see that desperate,
unearthly look, come and house itself in her great, solemn,

[figure description] Page 075.[end figure description]

hungry, tormenting eyes, that were once as full of sparkles and
merriment as the sky is of stars on a clear, frosty night. My
son, we never know what is good for us; for, many times, when
we clamor for bread we break our teeth on it; and then, again,
when we rage and howl because we think the Lord has dealt
out scorpions to us, they prove better than the fish we craved.
So, after all, I conclude Christ understood the whole matter
when he enjoined upon us to say, `Thy will be done.'”

The old nurse wiped her eyes with the corner of her black
silk apron, and, leaning against the trunk of a tree, crossed her
arms comfortably over her broad and ample chest, while Robert
busied himself in repotting some choice carnations.

“But, mother, do you really think she will be satisfied to stay
here, after travelling so long up and down in the world?”

“How can I tell what she will or will not do? You know
very well that she goes to sleep with one set of whims and
wakes up with new ones. She catches odd freaks as some people
catch diseases. She said yesterday that she had had enough
of travel and change, and intended to settle and live and die
right here; but that does not prove that I may not receive an
order next week to pack her trunks and start to Jericho or
Halifax, and I should not think the world was upside down and
coming to an end if such an order came before breakfast to-morrow.
Poor lamb! My poor lamb! Yonder she comes again.
Do you notice how fast she walks, as if the foul fiend were
clutching at her skirts or she were trying to get away from
herself, — trying to run her restless soul entirely out of her
wretched body? Come away, Robert, and let her have all the
grounds to herself. She likes best to be alone.”

Mother and son walked off in the direction of the stables,
and the advancing figure emerged from the dense shade where
interlacing limbs roofed one of the winding walks, and paused
before the circular stand on which lemon, rose, white, crimson,
and variegated carnations, nodded their fringed heads and poured
spicy aromas from their velvety chalices.

The face and form of Mrs. Gerome presented a puzzling
paradox, in which old age and youth seemed struggling for

[figure description] Page 076.[end figure description]

mastery; and “death in life” found melancholy verification. Tall,
slender, and faultlessly made, the perfection of her figure was
marred by the unfortunate carriage of her head, which drooped
forward so heavily that the chin almost touched her throat and
nearly destroyed the harmony of the profile outline. The head
itself was nobly rounded, and sternly classic as any well
authenticated antique, but it was no marvel that it habitually
bowed under the heavy glittering mass of silver hair, which
wound in coil after coil and was secured at the back by a comb
of carved jet, thickly studded with small silver stars. The
extraordinary lustrousness of these waves of gray hair that
rippled on her forehead and temples like molten metal, lent a
weird and wondrous effect to the straight, regular, rigid features,—
daintily cut as those of Pallas, and quite as pallid. The
delicate and high arch of the eyebrows was black as ebony, and
in conjunction with the long jetty lashes formed a very singular
contrast to the shining white tresses, which lay piled like freshly
fallen snow-drift above them. The brow was full, round,
smooth, and fair as a child's; and more than one azure thread
showed the subtle tracery of veins, whose crimson currents left
no rosy reflex on the firm, gleaming white flesh, through which
they branched.

Beneath that faultless forehead burned unusually large eyes,
deep as mountain tarns, and of that pure bluish gray that
tolerates no hint of green or yellow rays. The dilated pupils
intensified the steel color, and faint violet lines ran out from the
iris to meet the central shadows, while above and below the
heavy black fringes enhanced their sombre depths, where
mournful mysteries seemed to float like corpses just beneath
the crystal shroud of ocean waves. The pale, passionless lips,—
perfect in their pure curves, but defrauded of the blood which
resolutely refused to come to the surface and tint the fine satin
skin, — were lined in ciphers that the curious questioned and
wondered over, but which few could read and none fully comprehend.
The beautiful, frigid mouth, where all sweetness was
frozen out to make room for hopelessness and defiance, would
have admirably suited some statue of discrowned and smitten

[figure description] Page 077.[end figure description]

Hecuba; and no amount of sighs and sobs, no stormy bursts of
grief or fierce invective, could rival the melancholy eloquence
of its mute, calm pallor.

The wan face, with its gray globe-like eyes, and the metallic
glitter of the prematurely silvered hair, matched in hue the
pearl-colored muslin dress which fluttered in the wind; and,
standing there, this gray woman of twenty-three looked indeed
like Pygmalion's stone darling, —

Her frail, white hands, with their oval nails polished and
opalescent, were exceedingly beautiful; and, where the creamy
foam of fine lace fell back from the dimpled wrists, quaintly
carved jet serpents with blazing diamond eyes coiled around the
throbbing threadlike pulses of sullen sang azure.

Bending over the carnations, she examined the gorgeous
hues, — toyed with their fragile stems, — and then, glancing shyly
over her shoulder like a startled fawn half expectant of hounds
and hunter, she glided rapidly to an artificial mound crowned
with a mouldering mossy plaster image of Ariadne and her
pard, and stood surveying her new domain.

“Solitude” filled a semicircular hollow between low wooded
hills, which ran down to lave their grassy flanks in the blue
brine of the Atlantic, and constituted the horns of a crescent
bay, on whose sloping sandy beach the billows broke without
barrier.

The old-fashioned brick house — with sharp, peaked roof,
turreted chimneys, and gable window looking down in front
upon the clumsily clustered columns that supported the arched
portico — was built upon a rocky knoll, of which nature laid
the foundation and art increased the height; and, around and
above it, towered a dense grove of ancient trees that shut out the
glare of the sea and effectually screened the mansion from
observation. The damp walls were heavily draped with the

[figure description] Page 078.[end figure description]

sombre verdure of ivy, whose ambitious tendrils clambered to
the cleft chimney-tops, and peeped impertinently over the
broad stone window-sills, whence the indignant housemaid
remorselessly sheared them away as often as their encroachments
grew perceptible.

In the rear of the house, and toward the west, stretched
orchard, vegetable garden, vineyard, and wheat-field, whose
rolling green waves seemed almost to break against the ruddy
trunks of cedars that clothed the hillside. To the left and
north lay low, marshy, meadow land, covered with rank grass
and frosted with saline incrustations; while south of the building
extended spacious grounds, studded here and there with
noble groups of deodars, Norway spruce, and various ornamental
shrubs, and bounded by a tall impenetrable hedge of
osage orange. Before the house, which faced the ocean and
fronted east, the lawn sloped gently down to a terrace surmounted
by a granite balustrade; and just beyond, supported
by stone piers on the golden sands, stood an octagonal boat-house,
built in the Swiss style, with red-tiled roof, and floored
with squares of white and black marble, whence a flight of steps
led to the little boat chained to one of the rocky piers. Along
the entire length of the terrace a line of giant poplars lifted
their aged, weather-beaten heads, high above all surrounding
objects, — ever on the qui vive, looking seaward, — trim and erect
as soldiers on dress parade, and defiant of gales that had shorn
them of many boughs, and left ghastly scars on their glossy
limbs.

Tradition whispered, with bated breath, that in the dim
dawn of colonial settlement a rude log hut had been erected
here by pirates, who came ashore to bury their ill-gotten booty,
and rumors were rife of bloody deeds and midnight orgies, — all
of which sprang into more vigorous circulation, when, in laying
the foundations of the boat-house piers, an iron pot containing a
number of old French and Spanish coins was dug out of the
shells and sand.

Melancholy tales of stranded vessels and drowned crews, of
a slaver burned to the water's edge to escape capture, and of

[figure description] Page 079.[end figure description]

charred corpses strewn on the beach, thickened the atmosphere
of legendary gloom that enveloped the spot, — where the
successive demise of several proprietors certainly sanctioned the
feeling of dread and superstitious distrust with which it was
regarded. That the unenviable celebrity it had attained was
referable to local causes generating disease, appeared almost
incredible; for, if miasmatic exhalations rose dank and poisonous
from the densely shaded humid house, they were promptly
dispelled by the strong, invincible ocean-breeze, which tore aside
leafy branches and muslin curtains, and wafted all noxious
vapors inland.

A committee of medical sages having cautiously examined
the place, unanimously averred that its reputed fatality could
not justly be ascribed to any topographical causes. Whereupon
the popular nerve, which closely connected the community with
supernaturaldom, thrilled afresh; and all the calamities, real
and imaginary, that had afflicted “Solitude” from a period so
remote that “the memory of man runneth not to the contrary,”
were laid upon the galled shoulders of some red-liveried,
sulphur-scented Imp of Abaddon, whose peculiar mission was
to haunt the “piratical nest;” and, in lieu of human victims,
to addle the eggs, blast the grape crop, and make night hideous
with spectral sights and sounds.

To an unprejudiced observer the hills seemed to have
gleefully clasped hands and formed a half-circle, shutting the
place in for a quiet breezy communion with garrulous ocean,
whose waves ran eagerly up the strand to gossip of wrecks and
cyclones, with the staid martinet poplars that nodded and murmured
assent to all their wild romances.

Such was the pleasant impression produced upon the mind of
the lonely woman who now owned it, and who hoped to spend
here in seclusion and peace the residue of a life whose radiant
dawn had been suddenly swallowed by drab clouds and starless
gloom.

The Scotch are proverbially credulous concerning all preternatural
influences; and, had Robert Maclean been cognizant
of half the ghostly associations attached to the residence which

[figure description] Page 080.[end figure description]

he had selected in compliance with general instructions from his
mistress, it is scarcely problematical whether the house would
not have remained in the hands of the real-estate broker; but,
fortunately for their peace of mind, Elsie and her son were as
yet in blissful ignorance of the dismal celebrity of their new
home.

Resting her folded hands on the bare shoulders of the
Ariadne, which modest lichens and officious wreaths of purple
verbena were striving to mantle, Mrs. Gerome scanned the
scene before her; and a quick, nervous sigh, that was almost a
pant, struggled across her lips.

“Unto this last nook of refuge have I come; and, expecting
little, find much. Shut out from the world, locked in with the
sea, — no neighbors, no visitors, no news, no gossip, — solitary,
shady, cool, and quiet, — surely I can rest here. Forked tongues
of scandal can not penetrate through those rock-ribbed hills
yonder, nor dart across that defying sea; and neither wail nor
wassail of men or women can disturb me more. But how do I
know that it will not prove a mocking cheat like Baiæ and
Maggiore, or Copais and Cromarty? I have fled in disgust and
ennui from far lovelier spots than this, and what right have I to
suppose that contentment has housed itself as my guest in that
old, mossy, brick pile, where mice and wrens run riot? Like
Cain and Cartophilus, my curse travels with me, and I no
sooner pitch my tent, than lo! the rattle and grin of my skeleton,
for which earth is not wide enough to furnish a grave! Well!
well! at least I shall not be stared to death here, — shall not be
tormented by eye-glasses and sketch-books; can live in that dim,
dark, greenish den yonder, unobserved and possibly forgotten,
and finally sleep undisturbed in the dank shade of those deodars,
with twittering birds overhead and a sobbing sea at my feet.
How long — how long before that dreamless slumber will fall
upon my heavy lids, — weary with waiting? Only twenty-three
yesterday! My God, if I should live to be an old woman!
The very thought threatens insanity! Ten — twenty — possibly
thirty years ahead of me. No; I could not endure it, — I should
go mad, or destroy myself! If I were a delicate woman, if I

[figure description] Page 081.[end figure description]

only had weak lungs or a dropsical heart, or a taint of any
hereditary infirmity that would surely curtail my days, I could
be tolerably patient, hoping daily for the symptoms to develop
themselves. But, unfortunately, though my family all died
early, no two members selected the same mode of escape from
this bastile of clay; and my flesh is sound, and I am as strong
and compact as that granite balustrade, and — ha! ha! — quite
as hard. Au pis aller, if the burden of life becomes utterly
intolerable I can shuffle it off as quickly as did that proud
Roman, who, `when the birds began to sing' in the dawn of a
day heralded by tempestuous winds laden with perfume from
the vales of Sicily, shut his eyes forever from the warm sparkling
Mediterranean billows that broke in the roads of Utica, and
pricked the memory of inattentive Azrael with the point of a
sword. Neither Phædo, family, nor fame, could coax Cato to
respect the prerogative of Atropos; and if he, `the only free
and unconquered man,' quailed and fled before the apparition of
numerous advancing years, what marvel that I, who am neither
sage nor Roman, should be tempted some fine morning when the
birds are sounding reveille around my chamber windows, to
imitate `what Cato did, and Addison approved'? After all,
what despicable cowards are human hearts, and how much easier
to die like Socrates, Seneca, and Zeno, than stagger and groan
under the load of hated, torturing years, that are about as welcome
to my shoulders as the `old man of the sea' to Sinbad's!
How long? — oh, how long?”

The gloomy gray eyes had kindled into a dull flicker that
resembled the fitful, ghostly gleam of sheet lightning, falling
through painted windows upon crumbling and defiled altars in
some lonely ruined cathedral; and her low, shuddering tones,
were full of a hopeless, sneering bitterness, as painfully startling
and out of place in a woman's voice as would be the scream of a
condor from the irised throats of brooding doves, or the hungry
howl of a wolf from the tender lips of unweaned lambs. In the
gloaming light of a soft gray sky powdered by a few early stars,
stood this desolate gray woman, about whose face and dress
there was no stain of color save the blue glitter of a large

[figure description] Page 082.[end figure description]

sapphire ring, curiously cut in the form of a coiled asp, with
hooded head erect and brilliant diamond eyes that twinkled
with every quiver of the marble-white fingers.

Impatiently she turned her imperial head, when the sound of
approaching steps broke the stillness; and her tone was sharp as
that of one suddenly roused from deep sleep, —

“Well, Elsie! What is it?”

“Tea, my child, has been waiting half-an-hour.”

“Then go and get your share of it. I want none.”

“But you ate no dinner to-day. Does your head ache?”

“Oh, no; my heart jealously monopolizes that privilege!”

The old woman sighed audibly, and Mrs. Gerome added, —

“Pray, do not worry yourself about me! When I feel disposed
to come in I can find the way to the door. Go and get your
supper.”

The nurse passed her wrinkled hand over the drab muslin
sleeves and skirt, and touched the folds of hair.

“But, my bairn, the dew is thick on your head and has taken
all the starch out of your dress. Please come out of this fog
that is creeping up like a serpent from the sea. You are not
used to such damp air, and it might give you rheumatic cramps.”

“Well, suppose it should? Does not my white head entitle
me to all such luxuries of old age and decrepitude? Don't
bother me, Elsie.”

She put out her hand with a repellent gesture, but Elsie
seized it, and, clasping both her palms over the cold fingers, said,
with irresistible tenderness, —

“Come, dearie! — come, my dearie!”

Without a word Mrs. Gerome turned and followed her across
the lawn and into the house, whose internal arrangement was
somewhat at variance with its unpretending exterior.

The rooms were large, with low ceilings; and fire-places,
originally wide and deep, had been recently filled and fitted up
with handsome grates, while the heavy mantel-pieces of carved
cedar, that once matched the broad facings of the windows and
the massive panels of the doors, were exchanged for costly verd
antique and lumachella. The narrow passage running through

[figure description] Page 083.[end figure description]

the centre of the building was also wainscoted with cedar and
adorned with fine engravings of Landseer's best pictures, whose
richly carved walnut frames looked almost cedarn in the pale
chill light that streamed upon them through the violet-colored
glass which surrounded the front door and effectually subdued
the hot golden glare of the sunny sun. The old-fashioned folding
doors that formerly connected the parlor and library had been
removed to make room for a low, wide arch, over which drooped
lace curtains, partially looped with blue silk cord and tassels;
and both apartments were furnished with sofas and chairs of
rosewood and blue satin damask, while the velvet carpet, with its
azure ground strewn with wreaths of white roses and hyacinths,
corresponded in color. Handsome book-cases, burdened with
precious lore, lined the walls of the rear room; and on either
side of a massive ormolu escritoire, bronze candelabra shed light
on the blue velvet desk where lay delicate sheets of gossamer
paper with varied and outré monograms, guarded by an exquisite
marble statuette of Harpocrates, which stood in the mirror-panelled
recess reserved for pen, ink, and sealing-wax. The air
was fragrant with the breath of flowers that nodded to each other
from costly vases scattered through both apartments; and, before
one of the windows, rose a bronze stand containing china jars
filled with pelargoniums, in brilliant bloom. An Erard piano
occupied one corner of the parlor, and the large harp-shaped
stand at its side was heaped with books and unbound sheets of
music. Here two long wax candles were now burning brightly,
and, on the oval marble table in the centre of the floor, was a
superb silver lamp representing Psyche bending over Cupid, and
supporting the finely-cut globe, whose soft radiance streamed
down on her burnished wings and eagerly-parted sweet Greek
lips. The design of this exceedingly beautiful lamp would not
have disgraced Benvenuto Cellini, nor its execution have reflected
discredit upon the genius of Felicie Fauveau, though to
neither of these distinguished artificers could its origin have been
justly ascribed. In its mellow, magical glow, the fine paintings
suspended on the walls seemed to catch a gleam of “that light
that never was on sea or land,” for their dim, purplish Alpine

[figure description] Page 084.[end figure description]

gorges were filled with snowy phantasmagoria of rushing avalanches;
their foaming cataracts braided glittering spray into
spectral similitude of Undine tresses and Undine faces; their
desolate red deserts grew vaguely populous with mirage mockeries;
their green dells and grassy hill-sides, couching careless
herds, and fleecy flocks, borrowed all Arcadia's repose; and the
marble busts of Beethoven and of Handel, placed on brackets
above the piano, shone as if rapt, transfigured in the mighty
inspiration that gave to mankind “Fidelio” and the “Messiah.”

On the sofa which partially filled the oriel window, where the
lace drapery was looped back to admit the breeze, lay an ivory
box containing materials and models for wax-flowers; and, in
one corner, half thrust under the edge of the silken cushion, was
an unfinished wreath of waxen convolvulus and a cluster of
gentians. There, too, open at the page that narrated the death-struggle,
lay Liszt's “Life of Chopin,” pressed face downwards,
with two purple pansies crushed and staining the leaves; and a
small gold thimble peeping out of a crevice in the damask tattled
of the careless feminine fingers that had left these traces of
disorder.

The collection of pictures was unlike those usually brought
from Europe by cultivated tourists, for it contained no Madonnas,
no Magdalenes, no Holy Families, no Descents or Entombments,
no Saints, or Sibyls, or martyrs; and consisted of wild
mid-mountain scenery, of solemn surf-swept strands, of lonely
moonlit moors, of crimson sunsets in Cobi or Sahara, and of a
few gloomy, ferocious faces, among which the portrait of Salvator
Rosa smiled sardonically, and a head of frenzied Jocasta was
preëminently hideous.

As Mrs. Gerome entered the parlor and brightened the flame
of the Psyche lamp, her eyes accidentally fell upon the bust
of Beethoven, where, in gilt letters, she had inscribed his own
triumphant declaration, “Music is like wine, inflaming men to
new achievements; and I am the Bacchus who serves it out to
them.” While she watched the rayless marble orbs, more eloquent
than dilating darkening human pupils, a shadow dense
and mysterious drifted over her frigid face, and, without removing

[figure description] Page 085.[end figure description]

her eyes from the bust above her, she sat down before the piano,
and commenced one of those marvellous symphonies which he
had commended to the study of Goethe.

Ere it was ended Elsie came in, bearing a waiter on which
stood a silver epergne filled with fruit, a basket of cake, and a
goblet of iced tea.

“My child, I bring your supper here because the dining-room
looks lonesome at night.”

“No, — no! take it away. I tell you I want nothing.”

“But, for my sake, dear —”

“Let me alone, Elsie! There, — there! Don't teaze me.”

The nurse stood for some moments watching the deepening
gloom of the up-turned countenance, listening to the wierd strains
that seemed to drip from the white fingers as they wandered
slowly across the keys; then, kneeling at her side, grasped the
hands firmly, and covered them with kisses.

“Precious bairn! don't play any more to-night. For God's
sake, let me shut up this piano that is making a ghost of you!
You will get so stirred up you can't close your eyes, — you know
you will; and then I shall cry till day-break. If you don't care
for yourself, dearie, do try to care a little for the old woman
who loves you better than her life, and who never can sleep
till she knows your precious head is on its pillow. My pretty
darling, you are killing me by inches, and I shall stay here on
my knees until you leave the piano, if that is not till noon to-morrow.
You may order me away; but not a step will I stir.
God help you, my bairn!”

Mrs. Gerome made an effort to extricate her hands, but the
iron grasp was relentless; and, in a tone of great annoyance, she
exclaimed, —

“Oh, Elsie! You are an intolerable —”

“Well, dear, say it out, — an intolerable old fool! Isn't that
what you mean?”

“Not exactly; but you presume upon my forbearance. Elsie,
you must not interrupt and annoy me, for I tell you now I will
not submit to it. You forget that I am not a child.”

“Darling, you will never be anything but a child to me, — the

[figure description] Page 086.[end figure description]

same pretty child I took from its dead mother's arms and carried
for years close to my heart. So scold me as you may, my pet,
I shall love you and try to take care of you just as long as there
is breath left in my body.”

She ended by kissing the struggling hands; and, striving to
conceal her vexation, Mrs. Gerome finally turned and said, —

“If you will eat your supper, and stay with Robert, and leave
me in peace, I promise you I will close the piano, which your
flinty Scotch soul can no more appreciate than the brick and
mortar that compose these walls. You mean well, my dear,
faithful Elsie, but sometimes you bore me fearfully. I know I
am often wayward; but you must bear with me, for, after all,
how could I endure to lose you, — you the only human being
who cares whether I live or die? There, — go! Good night!”

She threw her arms around Elsie's neck, leaned her wan cheek
for an instant only on her shoulder, then pushed her away and
hastily closed the piano.

Two hours later, when the devoted servant stole up on tiptoe,
and peeped through the half-open door that led into the hall, she
found the queenly figure walking swiftly and lightly across the
room from oriel to arch, with her hands clasped over the back
of her head, and the silvery lamp-light shining softly on the
waves of burnished hair that rippled around her pure, polished
forehead.

As she watched her mistress, Elsie's stout frame trembled,
and hot tears streamed down her furrowed face while she lifted
her heart in prayer, for the dreary, lonely, lovely woman, who
had long ago ceased to pray for herself. But when the quivering
lips of one breathed a petition before the throne of God, the
beautiful cold mouth of the other was muttering bitterly, —

CHAPTER VII.

[figure description] Page 087.[end figure description]

“ULPIAN, why do you look so grave and grieved?
Does your letter contain bad news?”

Miss Jane pushed back her spectacles and glanced
anxiously at her brother, who stood with his brows slightly
knitted, twirling a crumpled envelope between his fingers.

“It is not a letter, but a telegraphic dispatch, summoning me
to the death-bed of my best friend, Horace Manton.”

“The man whose life you saved at Madeira?”

“Yes; and the person to whom, above all other men, I am
most strongly and tenderly attached. His constitution is so
feeble that I have long been uneasy about him; but the end has
come even earlier than I feared.”

“Where does he live?”

“On the Hudson, a few miles above New York City. I have
no time to spare, for I shall take the train that leaves at one
o'clock, and must make some arrangement with Dr. Sheldon to
attend my patients. Will it trouble or tire you too much to
pack my valise while I write a couple of business letters? If
so, I will call Salome to assist you.”

“Trouble me, indeed! Nonsense, my dear boy; of course I
will pack your valise. Moreover, Salome is not at home. How
long will you be absent?”

“Probably a week or ten days, — possibly longer. If poor
Horace lingers, I shall remain with him.”

“Wait one moment, Ulpian. Before you go I want to speak
to you about Salome.”

“Well, Janet, I lend you my ears. Has the girl absolutely
turned pagan and set up an altar to Ceres, as she threatened
some weeks since? Take my word for the fact that she does not
believe or mean one half that she says, and is only amusing herself
by trying to discover how wide her audacious heresies can
expand your dear orthodox eyes. Expostulation and entreaty

[figure description] Page 088.[end figure description]

only feed her affected eccentricities and skepticism, and if you
will persistently and quietly ignore them, they will shrivel as
rapidly as a rank gourd-vine, uprooted on an August day.”

“Pooh! pooh! my dear boy. How you men do prate sometimes
of matters concerning which you are as ignorant as the
yearling calves and gabbling geese that I suppose your learned
astronomers see driven every day to pasture on that range of
mountains in the moon — Eratosthenes — that modern science
pretends to have discovered, and about which you read so marvellous
a paper last week.”

Miss Jane reverently clung to the dishonored remnants of the
Ptolemaic theory, and scouted the philosophy of Copernicus,
which she vehemently averred was not worth “a pinch of snuff,”
else the water in the well would surely run out once in every
twenty-four hours. Now, as she dived into the depths of her
stocking-basket, collecting the socks neatly darned and rolled
over each other, her brother smiled, and answered, good humoredly, —

“Dear Janet, I really have not time to follow you to the
moon, nor to prove to you that your astronomical doctrines
have been dead and decently buried for nearly three hundred
years; but I should like to hear what you desire to tell me with
reference to Salome. What is the matter now?”

“Nothing ails her, except a violent attack of industry, which
has lasted much longer than I thought possible; for, to tell you
the truth without stint or varnish, she certainly was the most
sluggish piece of flesh I ever undertook to manage. Study
she would not, keep house she could not, sewing gave her the
headache, and knitting made her cross-eyed; but, behold! she
has suddenly found out that her pretty little pink palms were
made for something better than propping her peach-bloom
cheeks. A few days ago I accidentally discovered that she was
sitting up until long after midnight, and when I questioned her
closely, she finally confessed that she had entered into a contract
to furnish a certain amount of embroidery every month. Bless
the child! can you guess what she intends to do with the money?
Hoard it up in order to rent a couple of rooms, where she can

[figure description] Page 089.[end figure description]

take Jessie and Stanley to live with her. Ulpian, it is a praiseworthy
aim, you must admit.”

“Eminently commendable, and I respect and admire the
motive that incites her to such a laborious course. At present
she is too young and inexperienced to take entire charge of the
children, and I know nothing of your plans or intentions concerning
her future; but, let me assure you, dear Jane, that I
will cordially coöperate in all your schemes for aiding her and
providing a home for them, and my purse shall not prove a laggard
in the race with yours. Recently I have been revolving a
plan for their benefit, but am too much hurried just now to give
you the details. When I return we will discuss it in extenso.”

“You know that I ascribe great importance to blood, but,
strange as it may appear, that girl Salome has always tugged
hard at my heart-strings, as if our proud old blood beat in her
veins; and sometimes I fancy there must be kinship hidden behind
the years, or buried in some unknown grave.”

“Amuse yourself while I am away by digging about the genealogical
tree of the house of Grey, and, if you can trace a fibre
that ramifies in the miller's family, I will gladly bow to my own
blood wherever I find it, and claim cousinship. Meantime, my
dear sister, do keep a corner of your loving heart well swept and
dusted for your errant sailor-boy.”

He hastily kissed her cheek and turned away to write letters,
while she went into the adjoining room to pack his clothes.

When Salome returned from town, whither she had gone to
carry a package of finished work and obtain a fresh supply, she
found Miss Jane alone in the dining-room, and wearing a dejected
expression on her usually cheerful countenance.

“Did Ulpian tell you good-by?”

“No, I have not seen him. Where has he gone?”

“To New York.”

The long walk and sultry atmosphere had unwontedly flushed
the girl's face, and the damp hair clung in glossy rings to her
brow; but, as Miss Jane spoke, the blood ebbed from cheeks and
lips, and sweeping back the dark tresses that seemed to oppress
her, she asked, shiveringly, —

[figure description] Page 090.[end figure description]

“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 associated 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
pronouncing 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

[figure description] Page 091.[end figure description]

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-glass 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 cœur; consequently she indulged
little charity towards those episodes, which displayed what she
considered the most humiliating weakness of her sex.

While puzzling over the best method of extricating her prot
égé 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,

Miss Jane wiped her glasses, and read the note twice; then
held it between her thumb and third finger, and debated the

[figure description] Page 092.[end figure description]

expediency of changing its destination. Her delicate sense of
honor revolted at the first suggestion of interference, but an intense
aversion to “love-scrapes” 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

[figure description] Page 093.[end figure description]

boughs above her, and her sole auditors the brown partridges
that nestled in the tall grass, and the shy cicadæ ambushed under
the clover leaves — her pent-up pain and disappointment bubbled
over in a gush of passionate 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 God! I can't afford to doubt it. No one but his
sister has touched his lips, or his noble, 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, nobody 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 God,
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

[figure description] Page 094.[end figure description]

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-grass, — 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 cicadæ.

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 compassionately at her luckless
votary; and, finally, in the violet west, —

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 passed 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

[figure description] Page 095.[end figure description]

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

[figure description] Page 096.[end figure description]

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 God, nor the hope of heaven, nor yet
the promptings of self-respect have power to accomplish.

Now while Salome dallied with the tempter 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 can not — 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 God,
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 ignoble 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

[figure description] Page 097.[end figure description]

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 passage that she had first heard from
Dr. Grey's lips, —

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 up-stairs and betook herself vigorously to
the work of embroidering a parterre of flowers on the frontbreadth
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 circumstances,
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 grass 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-muffled 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

[figure description] Page 098.[end figure description]

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
pagoda 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?”

The orphan stole down the steps, climbed upon the table in
the parlor, and, seizing the letter, hurried into the dining-room,
where, quite exhausted by the fatigue of the day, the old lady
lay on the sofa.

She held out her hand and drew the girl's face within reach of
her lips, saying, —

“My child, I am afraid you have had rather a lonely day.”

“Decidedly the loneliest and longest I ever spent, and I believe
I never was half so glad to see you come home as just now
when the carriage stopped at the door.”

Ah, what hypocrisy is sometimes innocently masked by the
earnest utterance of the truth! And what marvels of industry
are accomplished by self-love, which seeks more assiduously than
bees for the honied drops of flattery that feed its existence!

Miss Jane was pardonably proud that her presence was so
essential to the happiness of the orphan whom she fondly loved,
and gratification spread a pleasant smile over her worn features.

“Where is Stanley? The child ought not to be out so
late.”

“He went down to the sheep-pen to count the lambs and
look after one that broke its leg yesterday. Miss Jane, are you
too much fatigued to read a letter which I found this morning
in your box at the post-office?”

“Is it from Ulpian? I was wondering to-day why I did not
hear from him. Dear me, what have I done with my spectacles?
They are the torment of my life, for the instant I take
them off my nose they seem to find wings. Give me the letter,

[figure description] Page 099.[end figure description]

and see whether I left my glasses on the bed where I put my
bonnet.”

Salome went into the next room and unsuccessfully searched
the bed, bureau, table, and wardrobe; and, in an agony of impatience,
returned to the invalid.

“You must have lost them before you came home; I can't
find them anywhere. Let me read the letter to you.”

“No; I must have my glasses. Perhaps I dropped them in
the carriage. Send word to the driver to look for them. It
was very careless in me to lose them, but I am growing so forgetful.
Rachel, do hunt for my spectacles.”

Salome ground her teeth to suppress a cry of vexation; and, to
conceal her impatience, joined heartily in the search.

Finally she found the glasses on the front steps, where they
had fallen when their owner left the carriage; and, feeling that
adverse fate could no longer keep her in suspense, she hurried
into the house and adjusted them on Miss Jane's eagle nose.

Conscious that she was fast losing control over the nerves
that were quivering from long-continued tension, Salome stepped
to the open window and stood waiting. Would the old lady
never finish the perusal? The minutes seemed hours, and the
pulsing of the blood in the girl's ears sounded like muttering
thunder.

Miss Jane sighed heavily, — cleared her throat, and sighed
again.

“It is very sad, indeed! It is too bad, — too bad!”

Salome turned around, and exclaimed, savagely, —

“Why can't you speak out? What is the matter? What
has happened?”

“Ulpian's friend is dead.”

“Thank God!”

“For shame! How can you be so heartless?”

“If the man could not recover I should think you would be
glad that he is at rest, and that your brother can come home.”

“But the worst of the matter is that Ulpian is not coming
home. Mr. Manton wished him to act as guardian for his
daughter, who is in Europe, and Ulpian will sail in the next

[figure description] Page 100.[end figure description]

steamer for England, to attend to some business connected with
the estate. It is too provoking, isn't it? He says it is impossible
to tell when we shall see him again.”

There was no answer, and, when Miss Jane wiped her eyes
and looked around, she saw the girl tottering towards the door,
groping her way like one blind.

“Salome, — come here, child!”

But the figure disappeared in the hall, and when the moonlight
looked into the orphan's chamber the soft rays showed a
girlish form kneeling at the window, with a white face drenched
by tears, and quivering lips that moaned in feeble, broken
accents, —

“God help me! I might have known it, for I had a presentiment
of terrible trouble when he went away. How can I
trust God and be patient, while the Atlantic raves and surges
between me and my idol? After all, it was an angel of mercy
whose tender white hands held back this bitter blow for nine
hours. Gone to Europe, and not one word — not one line — to
me! Oh, my darling! you are trampling under your feet the
heart that loves you better than everything else in the
universe, — better than life, and its hopes of heaven!”