Vashti Part 32

Dr. Grey collected his letters and walked away, followed by his guest; and, a moment after, a low, scornful laugh, floated in through the window which opened on the little flower-garden.

Miss Jane had requested Salome to gather the seeds of some apple and nutmeg geraniums that were arranged on a shelf near the western window of the library; and, while stooping over the china jars, and screened from observation by a spreading lilac-bush, the girl had heard the conversation relative to herself.

Excessive vanity had never been numbered among the faults that marred her character, but Dr. Grey's indifference to personal attractions, which strangers admitted so readily, piqued, and thoroughly aroused a feeling that was destined to bring countless errors and misfortunes in its train; and, henceforth,--

"There was not a high thing out of heaven, Her pride o'ermastereth not."

Hitherto the love of one man had been the only boon she craved of heaven; but now, conscious that the darling hope of her life was crushed and withering under Dr. Grey's relentless feet, she resolved that the admiration of the world should feed her insatiable hunger,--a maddening hunger which one tender word from his true lips would have a.s.suaged,--but which she began to realize he would never utter.

During the last eighteen hours, a mournful change had taken place in her heart, where womanly tenderness was rapidly retreating before unwomanly hate, bitterness, and blasphemous defiance; and she laughed scornfully at the "idiocy" that led her to weary heaven with prayers for the preservation of a life that must ever run as an asymptote to her own. How earnestly she now lamented an escape, for which she had formerly exhausted language in expressing her grat.i.tude; and how much better it would have been if she could mourn him as dead, instead of jealously watching him,--living without a thought of her.

All the girlish sweetness and freshness of her nature pa.s.sed away, and an intolerable weariness and disappointment usurped its place. Since her acquaintance with Dr. Grey, he had been her sole _Melek Taous_, adored with Yezidi fervor; but to-day she overturned, and strove to revile and desecrate the idol, to whose vacant pedestal she lifted a colossal vanity. Her bruised, numb heart, seemed incapable of loving any one, or anything, and a hatred and contempt of her race took possession of her.

The changing hues of Muriel's tell-tale face when Mr. Granville arrived, and the excessive happiness that could not be masked, had not escaped Salome's lynx vision; and very accurately she conjectured the real condition of affairs, relative to which Dr. Grey had never uttered a syllable. Bent upon mischief, she had, malice prepense, dressed herself with unusual care, and arranged her hair in a new style of coiffure, which proved very becoming.

Now, as the hum of conversation mingled with the sound of Muriel's low, soft laugh, reached her from the parlor, her chatoyant eyes kindled, and she hastily went in to join the merry circle.

"Come here, child, and sit by me," said Miss Jane, making room on the sofa, as her _protegee_ entered.

"Thank you, I prefer a seat near the window."

Dr. Grey sat in a large chair in the centre of the floor, with Muriel on an ottoman close to him, and Mr. Granville leaned over the back of the chair, while Miss Dexter shared Miss Jane's old-fas.h.i.+oned ample sofa. In full view of the whole party, Salome seated herself at a little distance, and, with admirably a.s.sumed nonchalance, began to enclose and sew up the geranium-seeds, in some pretty, colored paper bags, prepared for the purpose.

After a few minutes Mr. Granville sauntered across the room, looked at the cuckoo clock, and finally went over to the window, where he leaned against the facing and watched Salome's slender white fingers.

She was dressed in a delicate muslin, striped with narrow pink lines, and flounced at the bottom of the skirt, and wore a ribbon sash of the same color; while in the broad braids of hair raised high on her head, she had fastened a superb half-blown Baron Provost rose, just where two long glossy curls crept down. The puffed sleeves, scarcely reaching the elbows, displayed the finely rounded white arms, and the exactness with which the airy muslin fitted her form, showed its symmetrical outline to the greatest advantage.

Muriel touched her guardian, and whispered,--

"Did you ever see Salome look so beautiful? Her coiffure to-night is almost Parisian, and how very becoming!"

Dr. Grey was studying the innocent, happy countenance of his unsuspecting ward, and he could not repress a sigh, when, turning his eyes towards Salome, he noticed the undisguised admiration in Mr.

Granville's earnest gaze.

A nameless dread made him take Muriel's hand and lead her to the piano.

"Play something for me. I am music-hungry."

"Is Saul sad to-night?" she asked, smiling up at him.

"A little fatigued and perplexed, and anxious to have his cares exorcised by the magic of your fingers."

With womanly tact she selected a _fantasia_ which Mr. Granville had often p.r.o.nounced the gem of her _repertoire_, and momentarily expected to hear his whispered thanks; but page after page was turned, and still her lover did not approach the piano, where Dr. Grey stood with folded arms and slightly contracted brows. Muriel played brilliantly, and was pardonably proud of her proficiency, which Mr. Granville had confessed first attracted his attention; and to-night, when the piece was concluded and she commenced a _Polonaise_, she looked over her shoulder hoping to meet a grateful, fond glance. But his eyes were riveted on the fair rosy face at his side, and his betrothed bit her pouting lip and made sundry blunders.

As she rose from the piano-stool, Mr. Granville exclaimed,--

"Miss Muriel, you love music so well that I trust you will add your persuasions to mine, and induce Miss Owen to sing for us, as she declares she is comparatively a tyro in instrumental music, and would not venture to perform in your presence."

"She has never sung for me, but I hope she will not refuse your request. Salome, will you not oblige us?"

Muriel's eyes were dim with tears, but her sweet voice did not falter.

"I was not aware that you sang at all," said Miss Dexter, looking up from a mat which she was crocheting.

"She has a fine voice, but is very obstinate in declining to use it.

Come, Salome, don't be childish, dear. Sing something," coaxed Miss Jane.

The girl waited a few seconds, hoping that another voice would swell the general request, but the lips she loved best were mute; and, suddenly tossing the paper bags from her lap, she rose and moved proudly to the piano.

"Miss Manton, will you or Miss Dexter be so kind as to play my accompaniment for me? I am neither Liszt, nor Thalberg, and the vocal gymnastics are all that I can venture to undertake."

Muriel promptly resumed her seat before the instrument, and played the symphony of an aria from "Favorite," which Salome placed on the piano-board. Barilli had a.s.sured her that she rendered this fiery burst of rage and hatred as well as he had ever heard it; and, folding her fingers tightly around each other she drew herself up to her full height, and sang it.

Mr. Granville leaned against the piano, and Dr. Grey was standing in the recess of the window when the song began, but ere long he moved forward unconsciously and paused, with his hand on his ward's shoulder and his eyes riveted in astonishment on Salome's countenance. She knew that the approbation and delight of this small audience was worth all the _encore_ shouts of the millions who might possibly applaud her in future years; and if ever a woman's soul poured itself out through her lips, all that was surging in Salome's heart became visible to the man who listened as if spell-bound.

Miss Jane grasped her crutches, and rose, leaning upon them, while a look of mingled joy and wonder made her sallow face eloquent; and Miss Dexter dropped her ivory needle, and gazed in amazement at the singer.

Muriel forgot her chords,--turned partially around, and watched in breathless surprise the marvelous execution of several difficult pa.s.sages, where the rich voice seemed to linger while improvising sparkling turns and trills that were strangely intricate, and indescribably sweet.

As she approached the close of her song, Salome became temporarily oblivious of pride, wounded vanity, and murdered hopes,--forgot all but the man at her side, for whose commendation she had toiled so patiently, and turning her flushed, radiant face, toward him, her magnificent eyes aflame with triumph looked appealingly up at his, and her hands were extended till they rested on his arm.

So the song ended, and for a moment the parlor was still as a tomb.

Dr. Grey silently enclosed the girl's two hands in his, and, for the first time since she had known him, Salome saw tears swimming in his grave, beautiful eyes, and noticed a slight tremor on his usually steady lips.

"There is nothing in the old world or the new comparable to that voice, and I flatter myself I speak _ex cathedra_. Miss Owen, you will soon have the public at your feet."

She did not heed Mr. Granville's enthusiastic eulogy. She saw nothing but Dr. Grey's admiring eyes,--felt nothing but the close warm clasp, in which her folded fingers lay,--and her ears ached for the sound of his deep voice.

"Salome, I shall not soon forgive you for keeping me in ignorance of the existence of the finest voice it has ever been my good fortune to hear. Knowing your adopted brother's fondness for music, how could you h.o.a.rd your treasure so parsimoniously, denying him such happiness as you might have conferred?"

He untwined her fingers, which clung tenaciously to his, and saw that the blood ebbed out of cheeks and lips as she listened to his carefully guarded language. Silently she obeyed Miss Jane's summons to the sofa.

"You perverse witch! Where have you been practising all these months, that have made you such a wonderful cantatrice? Child, answer me."

"I did not wish to annoy the household by thrumming on the piano and afflicting their ears with false flat scales, consequently I followed the birds, and rehea.r.s.ed with them, under the trees, and down on the edge of the sea. If you like my voice I am glad, because I have studied to perfect it."

"Like it, indeed! As if I could avoid liking it! But you must have had good training. Who taught you?"

"I took lessons from Barilli."

"Aha,--Ulpian! Now you can understand how he contrives to feed his family. Salome's sewing-money explains it all. Kiss me, dear. I always believed there was more in you than came to the surface."

"Miss Owen ought to go upon the stage. Such gifts as hers belong to the public, who would soon crown her queen of song."

Salome glanced at the handsome stranger, and bowed.

"It is my purpose, sir, to dedicate myself and future to the Opera, where I trust I shall not utterly fail, as I have been for a year studying with reference to this step."

A bomb-sh.e.l.l falling in that quiet circle, would scarcely have startled its members more effectually; and, anxious to avoid comment, Salome quitted the parlor and ran out on the lawn.