Let us alone. Time driveth onward fast, And in a little while our lips are dumb.
Let us alone. What is it that will last?
All things are taken from us, and become Portions and parcels of the dreadful Past.
Let us alone. What pleasure can we have To war with evil? Is there any peace In ever climbing up the climbing wave?
All things have rest, and ripen towards the grave In silence; ripen, fall, and cease: Give us long rest or death; dark death or dreamful ease."
There, Dr. Grey, you have my creed and method,--_Laissez nous faire_."
With a degree of gravity that trenched on sternness, he bowed, and answered,--
"So be it. I might insist that the closing lines of "Ulysses" n.o.bly refute all the numbing heresy of the "Lotos Eaters"--
... "But something ere the end, Some work of n.o.ble note may yet be done.
That which we are, we are: One equal templer of heroic hearts, Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield."
But I would not rouse you from a lethargy, which, knowing it to be fatal to all hopes of usefulness, you still deliberately prefer. Take care, however, lest you bury the one original talent so deep that you fail to unearth it when the Master demands it in the final day of rest.i.tution. I have questioned you concerning your studies, because I desired and intended to offer my services as tutor, while you prosecuted mathematics and the languages; but I forbear to suggest a course so evidently distasteful to you. Unless I completely misjudge your character, I fear the day is not distant, when, haunted by ghosts of strangled opportunities, you will realize the solemn and painful truth, that,--
"There is nothing a man knows, in grief or in sin, _Half so bitter as to think, What I might have been_!""
CHAPTER III.
"Salome, you look so weary that I must insist upon relieving you. Give me the book and run out for a breath of fresh air--a glimpse of blue sky."
Dr. Grey laid his hand on the volume, but the girl shook her head and pushed aside his fingers.
"I am not at all tired, and even if I were it would make no difference. Miss Jane desires me to read this sermon aloud, and I shall finish it."
The invalid, who had been confined to her bed for many days by a severe attack of rheumatism, partially raised herself on one elbow, and said,--
"My dear, give him the book, while you take a little exercise. You have been pent up here long enough, and, moreover, I want to talk to Ulpian about some business matters. Don"t look so sullen, my child; it makes no difference who reads the sermon to me. Kiss me, and run out on the lawn."
The orphan relinquished chair and book, but there was no relaxation of her bent brows, and neither warmth nor lingering pressure in the firm, hardly drawn lips, which lightly touched the old lady"s sallow, wrinkled cheek. When she had left the room, closing the door after her with more force than was requisite to bolt it securely, Miss Jane sighed heavily, and turned to her brother.
"Poor thing! She is so jealous of you; and it distresses me to see that no friendship grows up between you, as I hoped and believed would be the case. If you would only notice her a little more I think you might win her over."
"Leave it to time, Janet. I "have piped unto her and she would not dance; I have mourned unto her, and she has not lamented,"--and concessions only feed her waywardness. If there be a residuum of good sense and proper feeling in her nature, they will a.s.sert themselves after a while; if not, all extraneous influences are futile. I will resume the reading, if agreeable to you."
Moody and rebellious, Salome stood for some moments on the threshold of the front door, staring vacantly out over the lawn; then, s.n.a.t.c.hing her hat from a hook in the hall, she swiftly crossed the grounds, climbed over a low lattice fence at the foot of the declivity, and followed a worn but neglected path leading into the adjoining forest.
The sanct.i.ty of the Sabbath afternoon rested like a benison over the silent glades, where sunshine made golden roads along the smooth brown pine straw, and glinted on the purple flags that fluttered in the mild west wind. Even the melancholy plaint of sad-eyed dun doves was hushed, as they slowly swung in the swaying pine-tops; and two young lambs, neglected by the wandering flock, lay sleeping quietly, with their snowy heads pillowed on cl.u.s.tering violets,--far from the fold, forgotten by their mothers, at the mercy of strolling dogs, watched only by the Great Shepherd.
Salome"s rapid pace soon placed a mile between her and the fence that bounded the lawn; and, pushing through the dense undergrowth which betokened the proximity of a stream, she stood ere long on the margin of a wide pond which supplied the broad, shining sheet of beryl water that poured over the rocky dam, close to the large irregular building called "Grey"s Mill."
Piles of lumber were bleaching in the sunshine, but the machinery was at rest, the workmen were all absent, and not a sound broke the stillness, save the steady, monotonous chant of the water leaping down into the race, where a thousand foam-flakes danced along towards the huge wheels, and died on the soft green mosses and lush-creepers that stole down to bathe in the sparkling wavelets. The knotted roots of an old beech tree furnished a resting-place, and Salome sat down and leaned her head against the scarred trunk, where lightning had once girdled and partially destroyed it,--leaving one-half the branches leafy, the remainder scorched and barren.
Overhanging willows darkened the edges of the pond; and, in the centre, one tall, venerable cypress, lonely as some palm in the desert, rose like a gray shaft tufted with a fine fringe of fresh green; and occasional cl.u.s.ters of broad, shining leaves, spread themselves on the surface of the water, cradling large, snowy lilies, whose gold-powdered stamens trembled ceaselessly. Now and then a trout leaped up, as if for a breath of May air, and fell back into the circle that widened until it touched either bank; and not far from a cow who stood knee-deep in water, browsing on a wild rose that clambered over the willows to peep at its pink image in the pond, a proud pair of gray geese convoyed a brood of yellow younglings that dived and breasted the ripples with evident glee.
With her arms clasped around her knees, Salome sat watching the blue tendrils of smoke that rose from a clump of elms beyond the mill and curled lazily upward until they lost themselves in air; and, though the arching elm boughs hid mossy roof and chimney, she nevertheless felt that she was looking on the old house where she was born, and where ten dreary years of sorrow and humiliation had embittered and perverted her nature.
Those elms had seen her mother die, had heard her father"s drunken revelry, and bent their aged heads to listen on that wild wintry night, when in blood-curdling curses his soul rent itself from the degraded tenement of clay. Apparently peace brooded over earth, sky, and water; but to that lonely figure under the riven beech, every object within the range of vision babbled horrible tales of the early years, and memory pointed to a corner of the lumber-shed adjoining the mill where she had often secreted herself to avoid her father"s brutality,--always keeping her head in the moonshine, because she dreaded the darkness inside, which childish fancy filled with ghostly groups. She hated the place as she hated the past, and this was the second time she had visited it since the day that consigned her to the poor-house; for it was impossible for her to look at the pond without recollecting one dark pa.s.sage in her life, known only to G.o.d and herself. To-day she recalled, with startling vividness a dusky, starlit June evening, when, maddened by an unmerited and unusually severe punishment inflicted by her father, she had resolved to drown herself, and find peace in the mud at the bottom of the mill-pond.
Placing her infant sister on the gra.s.s, she had kissed her good-by, and selecting the deepest portion of the water, had climbed out on a willow branch and prepared for the final plunge. Putting her fingers in her ears that she might not hear the bubbling of the murderous water, she shut her eyes and sprang into the pond; but her long hair caught the willow twigs, and, half strangled and quite willing to live, she scrambled up into the low limbs that seemed so anxious to rescue her from a watery grave; and, dripping and trembling, crept back to the house, comforting herself with the grim a.s.surance that whatever else might befall, she certainly was not foreordained to be either beaten to death or drowned. The impulse which had brought her on this occasion to a scene so fraught with harrowing memories, was explicable only by the supposition that its painful surroundings were in consonance with the bitter and despondent mood in which she found herself; and, in the gloom that this retrospection shed over her countenance, her features seemed to grow wan and angular. For several days she had been sorely disquieted by the realization of Miss Jane"s rapidly failing strength; and the probability of her death, which a year ago would have been entirely endurable as an avenue to wealth, now appeared the direst catastrophe that had yet threatened her ill-starred life.
It was distressing to think of the kind old face growing stiff in a shroud, but infinitely more appalling to contemplate the possibility of being turned out of a comfortable home and driven to labor for a maintenance. Salome had a vague impression that either Providence or the world owed her a luxurious future, as partial compensation for her juvenile miseries; but since both seemed disposed to repudiate the debt, she was reluctantly compelled to ponder her prospective bankruptcy in worldly goods, and, like the unjust steward, while unwilling to work she was still ashamed to beg.
Although she strenuously resisted the strong, steady influence so quietly exerted by Dr. Grey, the best elements of her nature, long dormant, began to stir feebly, and she was conscious of n.o.bler aspirations than those which had hitherto swayed her; and of a dimly-defined self-dissatisfaction that was novel and annoying.
Unwilling to admit that she valued his good opinion, she nevertheless felt chagrined at her failure to possess it, and gradually she realized her utter inferiority to this man, whose consistent Christian character commanded an entire respect which she had never before entertained for any human being. Immersed in vexing thoughts concerning her future, she mechanically stretched out her hand to pluck a bunch of phlox and of lemon-hued primroses that were nodding in the sunshine close to her feet; but, as she touched the stems, a large copper-colored snake slowly uncoiled from the tuft of gra.s.s where they nestled and, gliding into the water, disappeared in the midst of the lilies.
"I wonder if throughout life all the flowers I endeavor to grasp will prove only Moccasin-beds! Why should they,--unless G.o.d abdicates and Satan reigns? I have found, to my cost, that existence is not made entirely of rainless June days; but I doubt whether darkness and storms shut out the warm glow and perpetually curtain the stars.
Obviously I am no saint; still, I am disposed to believe I am not altogether wicked. I have committed no capital sins, nor grievously transgressed the decalogue,--and why should I despair of my share of the good things of life? I am neither Cain nor Jezebel, and therefore Fates and Furies have no warrant to dog my footsteps. Moreover, how do I know that Destiny is indeed the hideous, vindictive crone that luckless wretches have painted her, instead of an amiable, good soul, who is quite as willing to scatter blessings as curses? Because some dyspeptic Greek dreamed of three pitiless old weavers, blind to human tears, deaf to human pet.i.tions, why should we wise and enlightened people of the nineteenth century scare ourselves with the skeleton of Paganism? I have as inalienable a right to brocades, crown-jewels, and a string of t.i.tles, as any reigning queen, provided I can only get my hands upon them; and, since life seems to be a sort of s.n.a.t.c.h-and-hold game, quick keen eyes and nimble fingers decide the question. I have never trodden on the world"s tender toes, nor smitten its pet follies, nor set myself aloft to gaze pityingly on its degradation, therefore, the world honors me with no special grudge. But one thing is mournfully certain,--my path is not strewn with loaves and fishes ready baked and broiled, and I must even go gleaning and fishing for myself. Almost everybody has some gift or some mission; but I really do not see in what direction I can set to work. Work! How I hate the bare thought! I have not sufficient education to teach, nor genius to write, nor a talent for drawing, and barely music enough in my soul to enable me to carry the church tunes respectably. Come, Salome Owen!
Shake off your sloth, and face the abominable fact that you must earn your own bread. It is a great shame, and I ought not to be obliged to work, for I am not responsible for my existence, and those who brought me into the world owed it to me to provide for my wants. I cannot and will not forgive my father and mother; but that will not mend matters, since, nevertheless, here I am, with a body to feed and clothe, and G.o.d only knows how I am to accomplish it. I find myself with youth, health, some beauty, an average share of intellect, and all the wants pertaining thereunto. If the worst comes to the worst I suppose I can contrive, like other poverty-stricken girls, to marry somebody who will support me comfortably; but that is rather an uncertain speculation, and meantime Miss Jane might die. Now, if the Bible is true, it must indeed be a blessed lot to be born a brown sparrow, and have the Lord for a commissary. I am a genuine child of old Adam, and labor is the heaviest curse that could possibly be sent upon me."
Once or twice during this profitless reverie she had paused to listen to a singular sound that came from a dense group of willows not far from the spot where she sat, and now it grew louder, swelling into a measured cry, as of a child in great distress.
"Somebody in trouble, but it does not concern me; I have enough and to spare, of my own."
She settled herself once more quite comfortably, but the low, monotonous wail, smote her heart, and womanly sympathy with suffering strangled her const.i.tutional selfishness. Rising, she crept cautiously along the edge of the pond until she reached the thicket whence the sound proceeded, and, as she pushed aside the low branches and peeped into the cool, green nook, her eyes fell upon the figure of a little boy who lay on the ground, rolling from side to side and sobbing violently.
"What is the matter? Are you sick or hungry?"
Startled by the sound of her voice, the child uttered a scream of terror, and whirled over, hiding his face in the leaves and gra.s.s.
"For Heaven"s sake, stop howling! What are you about,--wallowing here in the mud, ruining your clothes, and yelling like a hyena? Hush, and get up."
"Oh, please, ma"am, don"t tell on me! Don"t carry me back, and I will hush!"
"Where do you live?"
"Nowhere. Oh!--oh!" And he renewed his cries.
"A probable story. What is your name?"
"Haven"t got any name."
"You have no name, and you live nowhere? Come, little fellow, this will never do. I am afraid you are a very bad boy and have run away from home to escape being punished. Hush this instant!"
He had kept his face carefully concealed, and, resolved to ascertain the truth, Salome stooped and tried to lift him; but he struggled desperately, and screamed frantically,--
"Let me alone! I won"t go back! I will jump into the pond and drown myself if you don"t let me alone."
He was so hoa.r.s.e from constant crying that she could recognize no familiar tones in his voice, but a great dread seized her, and, suddenly putting her hands under his head, she forced the face up, and looked at the flushed, swollen features.
"Stanley! Is it possible? My poor little brother!"
The equally astonished boy started up, and stared half wistfully, half fearfully, at the figure standing before him.
"Is it you, Salome? I did not know you."