At last she raised her face, and while tears trembled on her lashes, she said meekly,— "I ought not to complain and repine. I will be patient and trust God; for I can afford to suffer all through time, provided I may spend eternity with Christ and Dr. Grey." "Oh, Salome! Thank God, we shall be separated neither in time nor in eternity! Dear wanderer, come back to your brother!" He stepped before her, and involuntarily held out his arms. She neither screamed nor fainted, but sprang to her feet, and a rapture that beggars all description irradiated her worn, weary, pallid face. "Is it really you? Oh! a thousand times I have dreamed that I saw you,-stood by you; but when I tried to touch you, there was nothing but empty air! Oh, Dr. Grey !-my Dr. Grey! Am I only dreaming, here in the sunshine, or is it you bodily? Did you care for me a little? Did you come to find me ?" She grasped his arm, swept her hands up and down his sleeve, and then he saw her reel, and shut her eyes, and shudder. 66 'My poor child, I came to Paris solely to hunt for my wayward Salome, and, thank God! I have found her." He put his arm around her, and placed her head against his shoulders. Ah, how his generous heart ached, as he noted the hungry delight with which her splendid eyes lingered on his features, and the convulsive tenacity with which she clung to him, trembling with excess of joy that brought back carmine to her wasted lips and carnation bloom to her blanched cheeks. He heard her whispering, and knew it was a prayer of thanksgiving for the blessing of his presence. But very soon a change came over her sparkling, happy face, like an inky cloud across a noon sky, and he felt a shiver stealing through her form. "Let me go! You said once, that when I came to Europe to enter on my professional career, you wished never to touch my hands again, you would consider them polluted." "Dear Salome, I recant all those harsh, unjust words which were uttered when I was not fully aware of the latent strength of your character. Since then, I have learned much from Professor V, and from Gerard Granville, that assures me my noble friend is all I could desire her, that she has grandly conquered her faults, and is worthy of the admiration, the perfect confidence, the earnest affection, which her adopted brother offers her. Your pure, true heart makes pure hands, and as such I reverently salute them." He took her hands, raised and kissed them respectfully, tenderly. She hid her burning face on his bosom, and there was a short pause. "Salome, sit down and let me talk to you of home,-your home. Have you no questions to ask about your pet sister and brother ?" He attempted to release himself, but she clung to him, and clasping her arms around his neck, said in a strained, husky tone, "Dr. Grey, did you bring your-your wife to Paris ?" "I have no wife." She uttered a thrilling cry of delight, threw her head back, and gazed steadily into his clear, calm, blue eyes. Oh, sir, they told me you had married Mrs. Gerome." He placed her in the chair, and kneeling down beside her, took her quivering face in his palms and touched her forehead softly with his lips. "The only woman I ever wished to make my wife is bound for life to a worthless husband. Salome, I loved her before I knew this fact; and, since I learned (soon after your departure) that she was separated from the man whom she had wedded, Í have not seen her, although she still resides at 'Solitude.' Salome, I shall never marry, and I ask you now to come back to Jessie and Stanley, who will soon require your care and guidance, for it is my intention to return to the position in the U. S. naval service, which only Janet's feeble health induced me to resign. God bless you, dear child! I wish you were indeed my own sister, for I am growing very proud of my brave, honest friend, my patient lace-weaver." The girl's head sank lower and lower until it touched her knees, and sobs rendered her words scarcely audible. "If you deem me worthy to be called your friend, it is because of your example, your influence. Oh, Dr. Grey,-but for you,— but for my hope of meeting you in the kingdom of Christ, I shudder to think what I might have been ! Under all circumstances I have been guided by what I imagined would have been your wishes,-your advice; and my reward is rich indeed! Your confidence, your approbation! Earth holds no recompense half so precious," "Thank God! my prayers have been abundantly answered, my highest hopes of your future fully realized. Henceforth, let us with renewed energy labour faithfully in the vast, whitening fields of Him who declares, 'The harvest is plentiful, but the labourers are few." "O human soul! as long as thou canst so Set up a mark of everlasting light, To cheer thee and to right thee if thou roam, Not with lost toil thou labourest through the night, Thou makest the heaven thou hopest indeed thy home." 66 W CHAPTER XXXIV. 66 SAD CASE OF MANIA A POTU." ATCHMAN McDonough reports that, late last night, he picked up, on the sidewalk, the insensible body of Maurice Carlyle, who showed some signs of returning animation after his removal to Station House No.A physician was called in, and every effort made to save the unfortunate victim of intemperance; but medical skill was inadequate to arrest the work of many years of excess, and before daylight the wretched man expired in dreadful convulsions. Coroner Boutwell held an inquest on the body, and the verdict rendered was 'Death from mania a potu. Mr. Carlyle was well known in this city, where for many years he was an ornament to society, and a general favourite in the fashionable and mercantile circle in which he moved. Of numbers who were once the recipients of his bounty and hospitality, none offered succour in the hour of adversity, and among all his former friends none were found to cheer or pity in the last ordeal to which flesh is subjected. melancholy fate of Maurice Carlyle furnishes another illustration of the mournful truth that the wages of intemperance are destitution and desertion." The Such was the startling announcement, which under the head of "Police Report," Dr. Grey read and re-read in a prominent NewYork paper that had accidentally remained for some days unopened on his desk, and was dated nearly a month previous. Locking the door of his office, he sat down to collect his bewildered thoughts, and to quiet the tumult in his throbbing heart. During the two years that had drearily worn away since his last interview with Mrs. Carlyle, he had sternly forbidden his mind to dwell on its brief dream of happiness, and by a life of unusually active benevolence endeavoured to forget the one episode which alone had power to disquiet and sadden him. He had philosophically schooled himself to the calm, unmurmuring acceptance of his lonely destiny, and looked forward to a life solitary yet not unhappy, although uncheered by the love and companionship which every man indulges the instinctive hope will sooner or later crown his existence." Now heart and conscience, so long at deadly feud, suddenly signalled a truce, clasped hands, embraced cordially. How radiant the world looked,-with what wondrous glory the future had in the twinkling of an eye robed itself. The woman he had loved was stainless and free, and how could she long resist the pleadings of his famished heart? He would win her from cynicism and isolation, would melt her frozen nature in the genial atmosphere of his pure and constant affection, and interweave her aimless, sombre life with the busy, silvery web of his own. After forty years, God would grant him home, and wife, and hearthstone peace. What a flush and sparkle stole to this grave man's olive cheek, and calm, deep blue eyes! Ah! how hungrily he longed for the touch of her hand, the sight of her face; and, snatching his hat, he put the paper in his pocket, and hurried towards "Solitude." In the holy hush of that hazy autumnal afternoon, natureMagna Mater, "The altar-curtains of whose hills Are sunset's purple air," "Who dips in the dim light of setting suns seemed slumbering and dreaming away the day. The forests were gaudy in their painted shrouds of scarlet and yellow leaves, and long, feathery flakes of purple bloom nodded over crimson berries, emerald mosses, and golden-hearted asters. Only a few weeks previous, Dr. Grey had driven along that road, and, while the echo of harvest hymn rang on the hay-scented air, had asked himself how men and women could become so completely absorbed in temporal things, ignoring the solemn and indisputable fact of the brevity of human life and the restricted dominion of man,— "Whose part in all the pomp that fills The circuit of the summer hills Is, that his grave is green." But to-day all sober-hued reflections were exorcised by the rapturous Jubilate that hope was singing through the sunlit chambers of his happy heart; and when he entered the grounds of "Solitude" they seemed bathed in that soft glamour, that witching "light that never was on sea or land." |