University of Virginia Library

18. CHAPTER XVIII.

“I HAVE had a long conversation with Ulpian, and
find him violently opposed to the scheme you mentioned
to me several days since. He declares he
will gladly share his last dollar with you sooner than see you
embark in a career so fraught with difficulties, trials, and —”

Miss Jane paused to find an appropriate word, and Salome
very promptly supplied her.

“Temptations. That is exactly what you both mean. Go on.”

“Well, yes, dear. I am afraid the profession you have selected
is beset with dangerous allurements for one so inexperienced
and unsophisticated as yourself.”

“Bah! Speak out. I am sick of circumlocution. What do
you understand by unsophisticated?”

“Why, I mean, — well, what can I mean but just what the
word expresses, — unsophisticated? That is, young, thoughtless,
ignorant of the ways of the world, and the excessive cunning
and deceit of human nature.”

“Begging your pardon, it has another significance, which you
will find if you look into your dictionary, — that blessed Magna
Charta of linguistic rights and privileges. I do not claim the
prerogatives of Ruskin's class of the `well educated, who are
learned in the peerage of words; know the words of true descent
and ancient blood at a glance, from words of modern
canaille;' but I venture the assertion that I am sufficiently
sophisticated to plunge into the vortex of public life, and yet
keep my head above water.”

“I don't want to see my little girl an actress, or a prima
donna, bold, forward, and eager to face a noisy, clamorous crowd,
who feel privileged to say just what they please about her. It
would break my heart; and, if you are bent on such a step,
I hope you will wait, at least, till I am dead.”

“You ought to be willing to see me do anything honest, that
will secure my dependent brother and sister from want.”

“The necessity of laboring for them is not especially imperative
at this juncture, and why should you be more sensitive
now than formerly? Do not deceive yourself, dear child, but
face the truth, no matter how ugly it may possibly be. It is
not a sense of duty to the younger children, but an inflated
vanity, that prompts you to parade your beauty and your wonderful
voice on the stage, where they will elicit applause and
flattering adulation. My little girl, that is the most dangerous,
the most unhealthy atmosphere, a woman can possibly breathe.”

“Pray tell me how you learned all this? You, who have
spent your life in this quiet old house, who have been almost as
secluded as some Cambrian Culdee, can really know nothing of
that public life you condemn so bitterly.”

“The history of those who have walked in the path you are
now preparing to follow, proves the deleterious influences and
ruinous associations that surround that class of women.”

“Jenny Lind and Sarah Siddons redeem any class, no matter
how much maligned.”

“But what assurance have I, that, unlike the ninety-nine,
you will resemble the one-hundredth?”

“Only try me, Miss Jane.”

“Ah, child! A rash boy said the same thing when he tried
to drive the sun, and not only consumed himself but nearly
burned up the world. There is rather too much at stake to
warrant such reckless experiments.”

“Quit mythology, — it is not in your line, — and come back
to stern facts and serious realities. Because I wish to dance
a quadrille or cotillion, and acquit myself creditably, does it
ensue as an inexorable consequence, that I shall join some strolling
ballet troupe, and out-Bayadère the Bayadères?”

“That depends altogether upon your agility and grace. If
you could reasonably hope to rival your Hebrew namesake, I
am afraid my little girl would think it `her duty' to dance
instead of to sing, for the acquisition of a fortune; and insist
upon executing wonderful things with her heels and toes, instead
of her voice.”

“You and Dr. Grey seem to have simultaneously arrived at

the charitable conclusion that my heart is pretty much in the
same condition that the Hebrew temple was, when Christ undertook
to drive out the profane. Thongs in hand you two have
overturned my motives, and, by a very summary court-martial,
condemned them to be scourged out. Now, mark you, I am
neither making change nor selling doves, and still less are you
and your brother — Jesus. Dr. Grey does me the honor to
indulge a chronic skepticism concerning the possibility of any
good and unselfish impulse in my nature, and I am sorry to see
that you have caught the contagious doubt of me, and of my
motives.”

She began the sentence in a challenging, sneering voice, but
it was ended in a lower and faltering tone.

“My dear, don't attempt to whip Ulpian over my shoulders.
You know very well that I have invested in you an amount of
faith that the united censure of the world cannot shake; and
if Ulpian does not follow my example, whose fault is it, I should
be glad to know? Evidently not his, — certainly not mine, —
but undoubtedly yours. I have noticed that you took extraordinary
care and a very peculiar pleasure in making him believe
you much worse in all respects than you really are; and
since you have labored so industriously to lower yourself in his
estimation, it would be a poor compliment to your skill and
energy if I told you that you had not entirely succeeded in
your rather remarkable aim. Before he came home you were
as contented, and amiable, and happy, as my old cat there on the
rug; but Ulpian's appearance affected you as the entrance of a
dog does my maltese, who arches her back, and growls, and claws,
as long as he is in sight. I am truly sorry you two could never
agree, but I feel bound to tell you that you have only yourself
to blame. I do not claim that my sailor-boy is a saint, but he
is assuredly some inches nearer sanctification than my poor little
Salome. Don't you think so? Be honest, dear.”

Miss Jane's hand tenderly caressed the beautiful head; and,
as Salome was too sullen or too much mortified to reply, the
old lady continued, —

“Nevertheless, Ulpian is a true and devoted friend, and can
not bear the thought of your leaving us, for any purpose, much
less the one you contemplate. Last night he said, `Janet, I
am her brother, and think you I shall allow my sister to go out
from the sacred precincts of home, and become a target for the
envy and malice of the better classes who will criticise her,
and for the coarse plaudits of the pit? Do you suppose I can
willingly see her bare feet turned towards a path paved with
glowing ploughshares? Tell her, for me, that if ever she should
carry her unfortunate freak into execution, I shall never wish
to touch her hand again, for I shall feel that it has lost its
purity in the clasp of many to whom she can not refuse it
during a professional career.'”

The orphan lifted her head from the arm of Miss Jane's chair,
where it had rested for some minutes, and striking her palms
forcibly together, she exclaimed, proudly, —

“Tell Dr. Grey I humbly thank him, but the threat has lost
its sting; and if I should chance to meet him years hence,
though my hands shall be pure and clean as Una's, and as unsullied
as his own, — so help me heaven! I will never thrust
my touch on his, nor so far forget myself as to suffer his
fingers to approach mine. When I pass from this threshold,
we will have shaken hands forever.”

“Dr. Grey's ears are not proof against such elevated, ringing
tones of voice, and he could not avoid hearing, as he came up
the steps, the childish words which he assures you he has no
intention of believing or remembering.”

He had tapped twice at the half-open door, and now came
forward with a firm, quick step, to the ottoman where Salome
sat. Taking her hands, he patted the palms softly against each
other, and smiling good-humoredly, continued, —

“They are very white, and shapely, and pure, and I am not
afraid that my little sister will soil them. Her brother looks
forward to the day when they will gently and gracefully help

him in his work among God's suffering poor. I have not forgotten
how dexterous and docile I found your fingers, when I
had temporarily lost the use of my own, and I shall not fail to
levy contributions of labor in the coming years.”

She had snatched her fingers from his, and no sooner had he
ceased speaking, than she bowed haughtily, and answered, —

“Our reconciliations all belong to the Norman family, and
are quite as lasting as Lamourette's. Ceaseless war is preferable
to a violated truce, and since I have not swerved from my purpose,
I shall not falter in its enunciation. If I live it shall not
be my fault if I fail to go upon the stage. I am not so fastidious
as Dr. Grey, and one who sprang from canaille must be
pardoned if she betrays a longing for the `flesh-pots of Egypt.'”

She would have given her right hand to recall her words, —
when, a moment later, she met the gaze of profound pity and
disappointment with which Dr. Grey's eyes dwelt upon her
countenance, hardened now by its expression of insolent haughtiness;
but he allowed her no opportunity for retraction, even
had she mastered her overweening pride, and stooping to
whisper a brief sentence in his sister's ear, he took a medical
book from the table, and left the room.

The silence that ensued seemed interminable to Salome, and
at last she turned, bowed her head in Miss Jane's lap, and
muttered through set teeth, —

“You see it is best that I should go. Even you must be
weary of this strife.”

The old lady's trembling hands were laid lovingly on the girl's
hot brow and scorched cheeks.

“Not half so weary as your own oppressed heart. My dear
child, why do you persist in tormenting yourself so unmercifully?
Why will you say things that you do not mean? — that are absolute
libels on your actual feelings? I have often seen and
deplored affectations of generosity and refinement, but you are
the first person I ever met who delighted in a pretence of meanness,
which her genuine nature abhorred. Salome, I have tried
to prove myself a mother to you since the day that I took you
under my roof; and now, when I am passing away from the

world, — when a few short months will probably end my feeble
life, I think you owe it to me to give me no sorrow that your
hands can easily ward off. Don't leave me. When I am gone
there will be time and to spare, for all your schemes. Stay
here, and let me have peace and sunshine about me, in my last
fading hours. Ah, dear, you can't be cruel to the old woman
who has long loved you so tenderly.”

The orphan pressed the withered hands to her lips, and,
covering her face with the folds of Miss Jane's black silk
apron, exclaimed passionately, —

“Do not think me ungrateful, — do not think me insensible
to your love and kindness; but, indeed I am very miserable
here. Oh, Miss Jane! if you knew how I have suffered, you
would not chide, you would only pity and sympathize with
me; for your heart will never steel itself against your poor
wretched Salome!”

She lost control of herself, and sobbed violently.

“My dear little girl, tell me all your sorrows. To whom can
you reveal your trials and griefs, if not to me? For some
weeks past I have observed that you shunned my gaze, and
seemed restless when I endeavored to discover how you were
employing your time; and I have realized that you were sorely
distressed, but I disliked to force your confidence, or appear
suspicious. Now, I have a right to ask what makes you miserable
in my house? Is the little girl ashamed to show me her
heart?”

“One month since, I would have gone to the stake rather
than have shown it to you, or have had any one dream of the
wretchedness locked in its chambers; but a week ago I was
overwhelmed with humiliation, and now I am not ashamed to
tell you. Now that Dr. Grey knows it, I would not care if the
whole world were hissing and jeering at my heels, and shouting
my shame with a thousand trumpets. I tried to keep it from
him, and failing, the world is welcome to roll it as a sweet
morsel under its busy, stinging, slanderous tongue. Miss Jane,
I have intended to be sincere in every respect, but it appears
that, after all, I have proved only an arrant hypocrite if you

believe that I dislike your brother. I want to go away, because
I can no longer endure to live in the same house with Dr. Grey,
who shows me more plainly every hour that he can never return
the affection I have been idiotic and presumptuous enough
to cherish for him. There! I have said it, — and my lips are
not blistered by the unwomanly confession, and you still permit
my head to rest in your lap. I expected you would be indignant
and insulted, and gladly send such a lunatic from your
family circle, — or that you would dismiss me coolly, with lofty
contempt; but only a woman can properly pity a woman's weakness,
and you are crying over me. Ah! if your tears were
falling on my grave, instead of my face!”

Miss Jane was weeping bitterly, but now and then she stooped
and kissed the quivering lips of her unhappy charge, who found
some balm in the earnest sympathy with which her appeal was
received.

“My precious child, why should you be ashamed of your
love for the noblest man who ever unconsciously became a
woman's idol? I do not much wonder at your feelings, because
you have seen no one else in any respect comparable to him, and
it is difficult for you to realize the disparity in your ages. Poor
thing! It must be terrible, indeed, to one who loves him as you
do, to have no hope of possessing his affection in return. But
I suppose it can't be helped, — and one half the world seem to
pour out their love on the wrong persons, and find misery where
they should have only joy and peace. Thank God, all this mischief
is shut out of heaven! Dear, don't hide your face, as
if you had stolen half of my sheep; whereas my poor innocent
sailor-boy has unintentionally stolen my little girl's heart.”

“Miss Jane, you are too good, — too kind. Do not help me to
excuse myself, — do not teach me to palliate my pitiable weakness.
It is a grievous, a shameful, a disgraceful thing, for a woman
to allow herself to love any man who gives her no evidence of
affection, and shows her beyond all doubt that he is utterly
indifferent to her. This is a sin against womanly pride and
delicacy that demands sackcloth and ashes, and penance and
long years of humiliation and self-abasement; and I tell you

this is the one sin which my proud soul will never pardon in
my poor, weak, despised heart.”

“If you feel this so keenly, you will soon succeed in conquering
and casting out of your heart an affection, which, having
nothing to feed upon, will speedily exhaust itself. You are
young, and your elastic nature will rebound from the pressure
that you now find so painful. My dear, a few months or years
will bring comparative oblivion of this period of your life.”

“No; they will engrave more deeply the consciousness
that I have missed my sole chance of earthly happiness, for
Dr. Grey is the only man I shall ever love, — is the only man
who can lift me to his own noble height of excellence. I know
it is customary to laugh at a girl's protestations of undying devotion,
and that the theory of feminine constancy is as entirely
effete as the worship of the Cabiri, or the belief in Blokula and
its witches; but, unfortunately, the world has not sneered it
entirely out of existence, and I am destined to furnish a mournful
exemplification of its reality. Whether my nature is unlike
that of the majority of women, I shall not undertake to decide;
but this I know, — God gave me only so much love to spend,
and I poured it all out, I deluged my idol with it, instead of
doling it carefully through the future years. Like the woman of
Bethany, I have broken my box of alabaster, and spilled all my
precious ointment, which might have served for a lifetime of anointing,
and I cannot renew the shattered receptacle, nor gather
back the wasted fragrance; and so my heart must remain without
spikenard or balm during its earthly sojourn. I have been
prodigal, — have beggared my womanly nature, — and henceforth
shall feast on husks. But this piece of folly can be laid on no
shoulders but my own, and I must not wince if they are galled
by burdens which only I have imposed. Some women, under
similar circumstances, console themselves by fostering a tender
and excessive gratitude, which they pet and fondle and call
second love; but the feeling belongs to a different species, and
is to strong, earnest, genuine love, what the stunted pines of
second growth are to the noble, stalwart, unapproachable oaks,
that spring from the primitive virgin soil.”

Miss Jane lifted the bowed face, and rested the head against
her bosom.

“If you are so thoroughly convinced of the impossibility of
mastering this affection, why talk of going away? You will be
happier here, under any circumstances, than among strangers.”

“Do not misapprehend me. I do not intend to cherish my
weakness, — to caress and pamper it. I mean to strangle, and
mangle, and bury it, if possible. I meant, not that I should
always love Dr. Grey, but that I should never be able to regard
any one else as I once loved him. I can not stay here, seeing
him daily trample my alabaster and ointment under his feet.
I can not endure the humiliation that has for some days past
made this house more intolerable than I may one day find
Phlegethon. I want to go into the whirl and din of life, where
my thoughts can dwell on some more comforting theme than
the peerless preëminence of the man who is master here;
where I can spend hours in elaborating toilettes and coiffures
that will show to the greatest advantage my small stock of personal
charms; where the admiration and love of other men will
at least amuse and soothe the heart that has no more love for
anybody, or anything. Miss Jane, if I had never become so
deeply attached to Dr. Grey, it might perhaps be unsafe for me
to venture into the career which now lies before me; but when
a woman's heart is cold and dead in her bosom, there is no peril
she need fear; for only her warm, pleading heart, can ever silence
the iron clang of conscience and the silvery accents of reason.
Worshipping some clay god, my loving, yearning heart, might
possibly have led me astray; but now, pride and ambition stand
as sentinels over its corpse, and a heartless woman, desirous
only of amassing a fortune and making herself a celebrity in
musical circles, is as safe from harm as the bones of her grandmother,
twenty years buried.

The agony that convulsed the orphan's features, and shivered
the smoothness of her usually sweet voice, touched the old lady's
sympathy, and she wept silently; straining her imagination for
some argument that would make an impression on the adamantine
will with which she found her own in conflict.

“My child, tell me how long you have had this trouble.
When did you first feel an interest in Ulpian?”

Unhesitatingly Salome related all that had occurred in her
intercourse with Dr. Grey, and her companion was surprised at
the frankness and mercilessness with which she analyzed her
own feelings at each stage of the acquaintance that proved so
disastrous to her peace of mind; and not only held her weakness
up for scorn, but exonerated Dr. Grey from all censure.

The minuteness of the confession was exceedingly painful; and,
at its conclusion, she pressed her palms to her cheeks, and
moaned, —

“There, Miss Jane, I have not winced; I have kept back
nothing. I have been as patient and inexorable in laying open
my nature, in treating you to a post-mortem examination of my
heart, as a dentist in scraping and chiselling a sensitive tooth,
or a surgeon in cutting out a cancer that baffled cauterization.
Now you know all that I can tell you, and I here lay the past
in a sepulchre, and roll the stone upon it, and henceforth I trust
you will respect the dead; at least, let silence rest upon its
ashes. Hic jacet cor cordium.”

Salome extricated herself from the arms of her best friend,
and smoothed the hair that constant strokes had somewhat
disordered.

“Salome, I can not live much longer.”

“I know that, dear Miss Jane, and it pains me even to think
of leaving the only person who ever really loved me.”

“For my sake, dear child, bear the trial of remaining here a
little longer; at least, until I die. Do not desert me in my last
hours. I do not want the hands of strangers about me, when
I am cold and stiff.”

Salome rose and walked several times up and down the room;
then paused beside the easy chair, and laid her clasped hands in
Miss Jane's.

“You alone have a right to control me. Do with me as you
think best. I will not forsake the true, tender friend, who has
done more for me than all else on earth, or in heaven. For the
present I remain here; but allow me to say that I do not abandon

my scheme. I relinquish none of its details, — I only bide
my time.”

“`Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof.' Thank you,
my precious little girl, for yielding to my wishes when they
conflict with yours. Some day you will rejoice that you made
what seemed a sacrifice of inclination on the altar of duty.
Now, listen to me. Ulpian is so enraptured with your voice,
that, while he will never consent to this stage-struck madness,
he is exceedingly anxious that you should enjoy every musical
advantage, and is curious to ascertain to what degree of
perfection your voice can be trained. After consulting me, he
wrote two days ago to a celebrated professor of music in Philadelphia
or New York (I really forget where the man is now
residing), and offered him a handsome salary if he would come
and teach you for at least six months, or as much longer as he
deems requisite. I believe the gentleman is delicate and threatened
with consumption, which obliges him to spend the winters
in a warm climate, and Ulpian first met him in Italy. My boy
thinks that the opinion of this Professor Von Somebody is
oracular in musical matters; and, as he has trained some of the
best singers in Europe, Ulpian wishes him to have charge of
your voice. Say nothing about it until we hear whether he
can accept our offer. Kiss me.”

Salome's face crimsoned, and she said, hesitatingly, —

“Miss Jane, I can not consent that Dr. Grey should contribute
one cent toward my musical tuition. I can humbly and
gratefully accept your charitable aid, but not his. You love
me, and therefore your bounty is not oppressive or humiliating,
but he only pities and tolerates me, and I would starve in some
gutter rather than live as the recipient of his charity. If you
can conveniently spare the money necessary to give me additional
cultivation, I shall thankfully receive it, for Barilli has taught
me all of which he is master, and there is no one else in town
in whom I have more confidence. It was my desire and determination
that the work of my hands should pay for polishing
my voice, but embroidery-fees would not suffice to defray the
expenses of the professor to whom you allude; and, if Dr. Grey

pays for his services, I must in advance assure you and him
that I shall decline them, and rely upon Barilli and myself.”

“Pooh! pooh! It is poor philosophy to quarrel with your
bread and butter, no matter who happens to hand it to you.
Don't be so savage on Ulpian, who really cares more for you
than you deserve. But if it comforts your proud, fierce spirit,
you are welcome to know that I — Jane Grey — pay Professor
Von — whatever his name may be; and Ulpian's pocket, about
which you seem so fastidious, will not be damaged one dollar
by the transaction. Are you satisfied, — you pretty piece of
beggarly pride?”

“I am more grateful to you, dear Miss Jane, than I shall ever
be able to express. God only knows what would have become
of me if you had not mercifully snatched me, soul and body,
from the purlieus of ruin.”

She stooped to receive the fond kiss of her benefactress, and
went into her own room.

Nearly an hour later she slowly descended the stairs, and took
her hat from the stand in the hall. As she adjusted it on her
head, and tied the ribbons behind her knot of hair, Mr. Granville
came out of the parlor and seized her hand.

“Why will you torment me so cruelly? I have been waiting
and watching for you, at least half an hour.”

She haughtily took her fingers from his, and indignantly drew
herself up, —

“Mr. Granville presumes on his position as guest, to intrude
upon some who do not desire his society. I was not aware, sir,
that I had any engagement with you.”

“Forgive me, Salome! How have I offended you? If you
could realize how much pleasure your presence affords me, you
would not punish me by absenting yourself as you have persistently
done for three days past.”

He bent his handsome face closer to hers, looking appealingly
into her beautiful flashing eyes; but she put up her hands to
push him aside, and answered, —

“I shall be happy to entertain you in the evenings, when the
remainder of the household assemble in the parlor; and will,

with great pleasure, sing for you whenever Miss Muriel will
kindly oblige me by playing my accompaniments; but I prefer
to confine our acquaintance to such occasions.”

“Will you not allow me the privilege of accompanying you
in the walk for which you seem prepared?”

“No, sir; I respectfully decline your attendance.”

She saw his cheek flush, and he said, hastily, —

“Salome, I shall begin to hope that you fear to trust your
own heart.”

“Do not forget yourself, sir. If you knew where my heart
is housed, you would spare yourself the fruitless trouble, and
me the annoyance, of attentions and expressions of admiration
which I avail myself of this opportunity to assure you
are particularly disagreeable to me. I wish to treat you courteously,
as the guest of those under whose roof I am permitted to
reside, but `thus far, and no farther,' must you venture.
Moreover, Mr. Granville, since we are merely comparative
strangers, I should be gratified if you will in future do me the
honor to recollect that it is one of my peculiarities, — one of my
idiosyncrasies, — to prefer that only those I respect and love
should call me Salome. Good afternoon, sir.”

She took her music-book, bowed coolly, and made her exit
through the front door, which she closed after her.

In the hammock that was suspended on the eastern side of
the piazza, Dr. Grey had thrown himself to rest; and meanwhile,
to search for some surgical operation recorded in one of his
books.

Just behind him a window opened from the hall, and to-day,
though a rose-colored shade was lowered, the sash had been
raised, and every word that was uttered in the passage floated
distinctly to him.

The whole conversation occurred so rapidly that he had no
opportunity of discovering his presence to the persons within,
and though he cleared his throat and coughed rather spasmodically,
his warning was unheeded by those for whom it was
intended.

He knew that Salome could not possibly have guessed his

proximity, as he was not accustomed to use this hammock, and
was completely shielded from observation; and, while pained
and surprised by Mr. Granville's dishonorable course, which
threatened life-long wretchedness for poor Muriel, Dr. Grey's
heart throbbed with joy at the assurance that Salome was not
so ungenerous as he had feared. Probably no other human
being would have so highly appreciated her conduct on this
occasion; and, as he mused, with his thumb and fore-finger thrust
between the leaves of the book, a glad smile broke over his
grave face.

“God bless the girl! Her prayers and mine have not been
in vain, and she is putting under her feet the baser impulses
that mar her character. Granville is considered by the world
exceedingly handsome and agreeable, and many, — yes, the
majority of women, would have yielded, and indulged in a
`harmless flirtation,' where Salome stood firm. There was
something akin to the scornful ring of Rachel's voice in that
child's tones, when she told Gerard he presumed on his position
as guest; and I will wager my hand that her large eyes did
not exactly resemble a dove's when she informed him it was
not his privilege to call her Salome. She has a fierce, imperious,
passionate temper, that goads her into mischief; but, after all,
she is — she must be — nobler than I have sometimes thought
her. God grant it! God bless her!”