Part 14 (1/2)
The voice was so mournfully sweet that it thrilled every nerve in Salome's quivering frame.
”Phantom or flesh--which are you?”
”Mrs. Gerome, the owner of 'Solitude.'”
”Oh, indeed! I beg your pardon, madam, but I took you for a wraith!
You know the place has always been considered unlucky--haunted--and you are such an extraordinary-looking person I was inclined to think I had stumbled on the traditional ghost. I am neither ignorant nor stupidly superst.i.tious; but, madam, you must admit you have an unearthly appearance; and, moreover, I should be glad to know how you rose from the beach below to the top of this cliff? I see no feathers on your shoulders--no balloon under your feet!”
”I was walking on the sands in front of my door, and, hearing some very sweet strains that came floating down from this direction, I followed the sound, and climbed by means of steps cut in the side of this cliff. Since you regarded me as a spectre, I may as well tell you that I was beginning to fancy I was listening to one of the old sea-sirens, until I saw your rosy face and red lips, far too human for a dripping mermaid or a murderous, mocking Aglaiopheme.”
”No more a siren, madam, than you are a ghost! I am only Salome Owen, the miller's child, waiting for that boy yonder, whose sublimest idea of heaven consists in the hope that its blessed sea of gla.s.s is br.i.m.m.i.n.g with golden shrimp. Stanley, run around the cliff, and meet me. It is too late for us to be here. We should have started home an hour ago.”
”Who taught you 'Traviata'?”
”I am teaching myself, with what small help I can obtain from a vagabond musician, who calls himself Signor Barilli, and claims to have been a tenor singer in an opera troupe at Milan.”
”You ought to cultivate your voice as thoroughly as possible.”
”Why? Is it really good? Tell me, is it worth anything? No one has heard it except that Italian violinist; and, if he praises it, I sometimes fear it is because he is so horribly dissipated that he confounds my _bravura_ runs with the clicking of his wine-gla.s.ses and the gurgling of his flask. Do you know much about music?”
”I have heard the best living performers, vocal and instrumental, and to a finer voice than yours I never listened; but you need study and practice, for your execution is faulty. You have a splendid instrument; but you do not yet understand its management. Where do you live?”
”At 'Gra.s.smere,' a farm two miles behind those hills, and in a house hidden under elm and apple trees. Madam, it is very late, and I must bid you good-evening. Before I go, I should like to know, if you will not deem me unwarrantably impertinent, whether you are a very young person with white hair, or whether you are a very old woman with a wonderfully young face?”
For a moment there was no answer; and, supposing that she had offended her, the orphan bowed and was turning away, when Mrs. Gerome's calm, mournful tones arrested her:
”I am only twenty-three years old.”
She walked away, turning her countenance towards the water, where moonlight was burnis.h.i.+ng the waves; and, when Salome and Stanley had reached the bend in their path that would shut out the view of the beach, the former looked back and saw the silver-gray figure standing alone on the silent sh.o.r.e, communing with the silver sea, as desolate and as hopeless as Buchanan's ”Penelope,”--
”An alabaster woman, whose fixed eyes Stare seaward, whether it be storm or calm.”
CHAPTER IX.
”Doctor Sheldon, do you think she is dangerously ill?”
”I am afraid, Salome, that she will soon become so; for she is threatened with a violent attack of pneumonia, which would certainly be very dangerous to a woman of her age. It is a great misfortune that her brother is absent.”
”Dr. Grey reached New York three days ago.”
”Indeed! I will telegraph immediately, and hasten his return.”
Dr. Sheldon was preparing a blister in the room adjoining the one occupied by Miss Jane, and the orphan stood by his side, twisting her fingers nervously over each other, and looking perplexed and anxious.
He returned to his patient, and when he came out some moments later, and took up his hat, his countenance was by no means rea.s.suring.
”Although I know that you are very much attached to Miss Jane, and would faithfully endeavor to nurse her, you are so young and inexperienced that I do not feel quite willing to leave her entirely to your guardians.h.i.+p; and, therefore, shall send a woman here to-night who will fully understand the case. She is a professional nurse, and Dr. Grey will be relieved to hear that his sister is in her hands, for he has great confidence in her good sense and discretion. I shall stop at the telegraph office, as I go home, and urge him to return at once.
Give me his address. Do not look so dejected. Miss Grey has a better const.i.tution than most persons are disposed to believe, and she may struggle through this attack.”