Vashti Part 22

"But, Ulpian, I hear strange things about her, and it is hinted that she is deranged."

"Your knowledge of human nature should teach you how little truth is generally found in the floating _on dits_ of social circles."

"How long has she been widowed?"

"I do not know, but presume that her affliction has not been very recent, as she wears no mourning."

"If she has discarded widow's weeds, and dresses in colors, why should she taboo society, and make herself the town-talk by refusing to receive even the clergy and their wives? She has lived here ten months, and I understand from Dolly Spiewell that not a soul has ever seen her. Of course such eccentricities provoke gossip and tickle the tongue of scandal, and if the world can't find out the real cause of such conduct, it very industriously sets to work and manufactures one."

"Which, in my humble opinion, const.i.tutes a piece of unwarrantable impertinence on the part of meddling Mrs. Grundy. The world might be more profitably engaged in mending its own tortuous and mendacious ways, and allowing poor solitary wretches to fondle their whims and caprices. If Mrs. Gerome does not choose to receive visitors, what right has the public to grumble, or even discuss the matter?"

As Salome spoke, she plunged her stiletto vigorously into a piece of cambric, and her thin lip curled contemptuously.

"Abstractly true, my dear child; but, from the beginning of time, people have meddled; and, since gossip she must, even Eve chatted too freely with serpents. Besides, since we are in the world, we should not turn eremites, and bristle at the sight of one of our own race; for society has a few laws that are inexorable,--that cannot be violated without subjecting the offender to being stung to death by venomous tongues; and one of these statutes is, that all shall see and be seen, shall talk and be talked about, and shall visit and be visited. When a woman unaccountably turns recluse, she is at the mercy of public imagination, stimulated by disappointed curiosity; and very soon the verdict goes forth that she is either deformed or deranged."

"I dispute the prerogative of the public to dictate in such matters, and I shall rebel whenever it presumes to lay even a little finger across my path. What, pray tell me, is the world, but an aggregation of persons like you and me, and what possible concern can you or I have with the fact that Mrs. Gerome burrows like a mole, beyond our sight? If she sees fit to found a modern sect of Troglodytes, I can't understand that the wheels of society are thereby scotched, or that the public has a shadow of right to raise a hue-and-cry and strive to unearth her, as if she were a fox, a catamount, or a gopher. It is useless for society to const.i.tute itself a turning-lathe for rounding off all individual angularities, and grinding people down to dull uniformity until they are as indistinguishable as a bag of unpainted marbles or of black-eyed peas; and, if G.o.d had intended that we should all invariably think, feel, and act after one pattern, He would have populated the world with Siamese twins; whereas, the first couple that were born on earth were so dissimilar that all the universe was not wide enough to hold them both, and manslaughter began when the race only numbered a quartette. If mankind had not arrogated the privilege of being its 'brother's keeper,' it would never have been forced to deny the fact. I admire the honesty and truth with which Alexander Smith bravely confessed, 'I love a little eccentricity; I respect honest prejudices. It is high time, it seems to me, that a moral game-law were pa.s.sed for the preservation of the wild and vagrant feelings of human nature.'"

"That is a dangerous doctrine, my dear child, especially for a woman to entertain; because custom rules us with an iron rod, and flays us alive if we contravene her decrees."

"I should be exceedingly glad to learn by what authority or process Truth is provided with s.e.x? Are some orthodox doctrines female and others male? Why have not we women as clear a right to any given set of principles as men? Truth is as much my property as that of the Czar of Russia, and, if I choose to lay hold of any special province of it, why must I perforce be dragged to the whipping-post of custom, simply because by an accident I am called Susan or Hepzibah instead of Peter or Lazarus? So long as my convictions of truth (which custom brands as vagaries) are innocuous, I have a perfect and inalienable right to indulge them; but the instant I become pestiferous to society, let me be consigned to the tender mercies of strait-jacket and insane-asylum regimen. If I creep quietly along my own intellectual and ethical trail, taking heed not to touch the sensitive toes of custom, why should it ungenerously insist upon bruising mine? My seer was right when he boldly declared, 'The world has stood long enough under the drill of Adjutant Fas.h.i.+on.' It is hard work, the posture is wearisome, and Fas.h.i.+on is an awful martinet, and has a quick eye, and comes down mercilessly on the unfortunate wight who can not square his toes to the approved pattern. It is killing work. Suppose we try 'standing at ease' for a little while? Wherefore, custom to the contrary notwithstanding, I contend that Mrs. Gerome has as indisputable a right to refuse admittance to Rev. Mrs. Spiewell as any anchorite of the Nitrian Sands to decline receiving a bevy of inquisitive European belles. If society rules like Russia or Turkey, then am I a candidate for knout and bastinado. I do not wish to be unwomanly, and honesty and candor are not necessarily unfeminine, because some coa.r.s.e, rough-handed, bold-eyed woman has possibly rendered them unpopular."

Miss Jane laid down her knitting, folded her hands, and, as she watched the girl, her emotions were probably similar to those that agitate some meek and staid hen, who, leading a young brood of ducks from her nest, suddenly beholds them displaying their aquatic proclivities by plunging into the horse-pond, and performing all the evolutions of a regatta.

"Ah, child, I fear you think too little of what you wish or intend to make yourself!"

"Only have patience, Miss Jane, and some day I will show you all the graces of Griselda and Gudrun the second. Dr. Grey, have you seen Mrs.

Gerome?"

"Yes,--on two occasions."

"Is she not the most extraordinary and puzzling person you ever looked at?"

"When and where could you have met her?"

"For a few minutes only, last winter, I saw her on the beach, near 'Solitude.' We exchanged a half-dozen words, and she left an impression on my mind which all time will not efface. Since that evening I have frequently endeavored to surprise her on the same spot, but only once I succeeded in catching a glimpse of a blue shawl that fluttered in the distance. She seemed to me a beautiful, pale priestess, consecrated to the ministry of the shrine of sorrow; and, when I hear snubbed-dom sneering at her, and remember the hopeless expression with which her wonderful, homeless eyes looked out across that grey, silent sea,--I cannot avoid thinking that she is very wise in barring her doors, and heeding the advice of Montenebi, '_Complain not of thy woes to the public: they will no more pity thee than birds of prey pity the wounded deer_.'"

"My acquaintance with Mrs. Gerome is too slight to warrant the utterance of an opinion relative to her idiosyncrasies, but I am afraid cynicism rather than grief immures her from society. Her prematurely white hair and the remarkable pallor of her smooth complexion combine to render her appearance piquant and unnatural; and, certainly, there is something in her face strangely suggestive of old Norse myths, mystery, and magic. Her features, when a.n.a.lyzed, prove faultlessly regular, but her life is out of tune, and the expression of her countenance mars what would otherwise be perfect beauty. I can, in some degree, describe the impression she produced upon me by quoting the lines that were suggested when I saw her this morning, standing by Elsie Maclean's bed,--

'I saw a vision of a woman, where Night and new morning strive for domination; Incomparably pale, and almost fair, And sad beyond expression.

Her eyes were like some fire-enshrining gem, Were stately, like the stars, and yet were tender; Her figure charmed me, like a windy stem, Quivering, and drooped, and slender.

She measured measureless sorrow toward its length And breadth, and depth, and height.'"

Salome looked up from the eyelet she was working, but Dr. Grey had turned his head towards his sister who had fallen asleep in her chair, and the orphan could not see his face.

"Mrs. Gerome must have been very young when she married, and--"

"Hus.h.!.+ Janet looks so weary that I want her to have a long nap, and our voices might disturb her."

He took his hat and gloves and left the room, and Salome forgot her embroidery and fell into a reverie that proved neither pleasant nor profitable, and lasted until Miss Jane awoke.

In the afternoon of the following day, when the orphan returned from her clandestine visit to the Italian musician, she saw an unusual number of persons on the front gallery, and found that the long-expected party from New York had arrived during her absence. Miss Jane was talking to the governess--a meek-looking, but exceedingly handsome woman, of twenty-seven or eight years, with fair hair and quiet brown eyes; and every detail of her dress, speech, and bearing averred that Edith Dexter was no humble scion of proletariat. Her polished yet reserved manners bespoke high birth and aristocratic a.s.sociations; but something in the composed, sad countenance, in the listless drooping of the pretty head, hinted that she had long since spilt the rosy sparkling foam of her cup of life, and was patiently drinking its muddy lees.

On the upper step sat Dr. Grey, with his arm encircling the form of his ward, whose head rested very confidingly against his shoulder.

Muriel Manton was dressed in deep mourning, and had evidently been weeping, for her guardian was tenderly wiping the tears from her cheek when Salome came up the avenue; and, with a keen, jealous pang that she had never felt before, the latter scanned the stranger's claims to beauty.

Very black eyes, brilliant complexion, and fine teeth, she certainly possessed; but her features were rather coa.r.s.e; her mouth was much too large for cla.s.sic requirements; and Salome was rejoiced to find her nose indisputably _retrousse_.

Years hence she would doubtless be a large, well-formed, commanding woman, who could exhibit Lyons silk or Genoese velvet to the best advantage, and would be considered a fine-looking, rosy, robust personage; but at present the face, which from under a small straw hat anxiously watched hers, was infinitely handsomer, more attractive, more delicate, and intellectual; and the miller's child felt that she had little to apprehend from the merely personal charms of the wealthy ward.

Salome felt injured as she eyed the doctor's arm, which had never touched even her shoulder; and it was painful and humiliating to notice the affectionate manner in which his hand stroked one of Muriel's that lay on his knee,--and to remember that his fingers had not met hers in a friendly grasp since long before his visit to Europe,--had only clasped hers twice during their acquaintance.

"Come in, Salome, and let me introduce you to my ward Muriel, and to Miss Dexter, who is prepared to receive you as a pupil."

Muriel silently held out her hand; but Salome only bowed and ran lightly up the steps, as if she did not perceive the outstretched fingers. Miss Dexter rose and advanced to meet her, saying, in a tone that indexed great kindness of heart,--

"I am exceedingly glad to meet you, Miss Salome; for Dr. Grey has promised that I shall find in you a most exemplary and agreeable pupil."

"Thank you. I am indeed glad to hear that he has changed his opinion of me; and I must endeavor not to lose my newly acquired amiable character,--but he was rather rash to stand security for my good behavior."

She saw that Dr. Grey was surprised at her cold reception of his pet and _protege_, and perversity took possession of her. Going to the back of Miss Jane's old-fas.h.i.+oned rocking-chair she put her arms around her, and, leaning over, kissed her cheek several times. It was not her habit to caress any one or any thing,--not even her little brother,--and this unusual demonstrativeness puzzled and surprised the old lady who said, fondly,--

"I presume Ulpian is brave enough to encounter all the risks of standing security for your obedience and docility."

"Certainly I appreciate his chivalry, since none knows better than he the danger--nay, probability, of a forfeiture of the contract on my part."

Dr. Grey rose, and, looking steadily at her, said, in a tone which she well understood,--

"Promises are, in my estimation, peculiarly sacred things; and that which I made to Miss Dexter in your behalf was based upon one that I gave you some time since, namely, that I would have faith in you. Come with me, Muriel; I want to show you and Miss Dexter the finest cow this side of Ayrs.h.i.+re, and some sheep that are handsome enough to compare favorably with the best that ever browsed in the 'Court of Lions.'"

He took his ward's hand and led her away to the cattle-yard, whither Miss Dexter accompanied them.

As Salome looked after the trio her eyes flashed and scarlet spots burned on her cheeks, while a feeling of suffocation oppressed her heart.

"Why will you vex him, when you know that he tries so hard to like you?" asked Miss Jane in a distressed tone, stroking the girl's hot face, as she spoke.

The head was instantly lifted beyond her reach, and the answer came swiftly, sharp and defiant,--

"Do you mean to say that it is so extremely difficult for him to tolerate me?"

"You are obliged to know that you are not one of his favorites, like that sweet-tempered Muriel, to whom he seems so warmly attached; and it is all your own fault, for he was disposed to like you when he first came home. Ulpian loves quiet and amiable people, who are never rude and snappish; and it appears to me that you are trying to see how hateful and spiteful you can be. Why upon earth did you not shake hands with those strangers, and treat them politely?"

"Because I don't choose to be hypocritical,--and I don't like Miss Muriel Manton."

"Nonsense! Stuff! I only wish you were half as well-bred and courteous, and lady-like."

"Do you, really? Then, to be obedient and, oblige you, when they come back, I will imitate her example, and throw myself into Dr. Grey's arms, and rub my cheek against his shoulder, and fondle his hands. If this be 'lady-like,' then, indeed, I penitently cry '_peccavi!_' and promise that in future you shall not have cause to complain of me."

"Pooh, pooh, child! What ails you? Muriel has known Ulpian all her life, and looks upon him now as her father. He has petted her since she was a little girl, and loves her almost as well as if she were his child, instead of his ward. You know she is an orphan; and it is very natural for her to cling to her guardian, who was for a great many years her father's most intimate friend."