Vashti Part 12

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 a.s.siduously 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, and see whether I left my gla.s.ses 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 gla.s.ses. 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 gla.s.ses 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 G.o.d!"

"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 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,--

"G.o.d help me! I might have known it, for I had a presentiment of terrible trouble when he went away. How can I trust G.o.d 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!"

CHAPTER VIII.

"Salome, where did you learn to sing? I was astonished this morning when I heard you."

"I have not yet learned,--I have only begun to practise."

"But, my child, I had no idea you owned such a voice. Where have you kept it concealed so long?"

"I was not aware that I had it until a month ago, when it accidentally discovered itself."

"It is very powerful."

"Yes, and very rough; but care and study will smooth and polish it.

Miss Jane, please keep your eye on Stanley until I come home; for, although I left him with his slate and arithmetic, it is by no means certain that they will not part company the moment I am out of sight."

"Where are you going?"

"To carry back some work which would have been returned yesterday had not the weather been so inclement."

In addition to the package of embroidered handkerchiefs, Salome carried under her arm a roll of music and an instruction-book; and, when she reached the outskirts of the town, turned away from the main street and stopped at the door of a small comfortless-looking house that stood without enclosure on the common.

Two swart, black-eyed children were playing mumble-peg with a broken knife, in one corner of the room; a third, with tears still on its lashes, had just sobbed itself to sleep on a strip of faded carpet stretched before the smouldering embers on the hearth; while the fourth, a feeble infant only six months old, was wailing in the arms of its mother,--a thin, sickly woman, with consumption's red autograph written on her hollow cheeks, where the skin clung to the bones as if resisting the chill grasp of death. As she slowly rocked herself, striving to hush the cry of the child, her dry, husky cough formed a melancholy chorus, which seemed to annoy a man who sat before the small table covered with materials for copying music. His cadaverous, sallow complexion, and keen, restless eyes, bespoke Italian origin; and, although engaged in filling some blank sheets with musical notes, he occasionally took up a violin that lay across his knees, and, after playing a few bars, laid aside the bow and resumed the pen. Now and then he glanced at his wife and child with a scowling brow; but, as his eyes fell on their emaciated faces, something like a sigh seemed to heave his chest.

When Salome's knock arrested his attention he rose and advanced to the half-open door, saying, impatiently,--

"Well, miss, have you brought me any money?"

"Good morning, Mr. Barilli. Here are the ten dollars that I promised, but I wish you to understand that in future I shall not advance one cent of my tuition-money. When the month ends you will receive your wages, but not one day earlier."

"I beg pardon, miss; but, indeed, you see--"

He did not conclude the sentence, but waved his hand towards the two in the rocking-chair and proceeded to count the money placed in his palm.

"Yes, I see that you are very dest.i.tute, but charity begins at home, and I have to work hard for the wages that you have demanded before they are due. Good morning, madam; I hope you feel better to-day.

Come, Mr. Barilli, I have no time to waste in loitering. Are you ready for my lesson?"