At the Mercy of Tiberius Read online

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  AT THE MERCY OF TIBERIUS

  A NOVEL

  By

  AUGUSTA EVANS WILSON

  Author of "A Speckled Bird," "Infelice," "Vashti," "Beulah," "St.Elmo," etc.

  Fate steals along with silent tread, Found oftenest in what least we dread; Frowns in the storm with angry brow, But in the sunshine strikes the blow. --COWPER.

  IN MEMORY OF MY MOTHER, WHO HAS ENTERED INTO REST.

  JTABLE 10 35 1

  AT THE MERCY OF TIBERIUS

  CHAPTER I.

  "You are obstinate and ungrateful. You would rather see me suffer anddie, than bend your stubborn pride in the effort to obtain relief forme. You will not try to save me."

  The thin, hysterically unsteady voice ended in a sob, and the frailwasted form of the speaker leaned forward, as if the issue of life ordeath hung upon an answer.

  The tower clock of a neighboring church began to strike the hour ofnoon, and not until the echo of the last stroke had died away, wasthere a reply to the appeal.

  "Mother, try to be just to me. My pride is for you, not for myself. Ishrink from seeing my mother crawl to the feet of a man, who hasdisowned and spurned her; I cannot consent that she should humbly begfor rights, so unnaturally withheld. Every instinct of my naturerevolts from the step you require of me, and I feel as if you held ahot iron in your hand, waiting to brand me."

  "Your proud sensitiveness runs in a strange groove, and it seems youwould prefer to see me a pauper in a Hospital, rather than go to yourgrandfather and ask for help. Beryl, time presses, and if I die forwant of aid, you will be responsible; when it is too late, you willreproach yourself. If I only knew where and how to reach my dear boy, Ishould not importune you. Bertie would not refuse obedience to saywishes."

  The silence which followed was so prolonged that a mouse crept from itscovert in some corner of the comfortless garret room, and nibbled atthe fragments of bread scattered on the table.

  Beryl stood at the dormer window, holding aside the faded blue cottoncurtain, and the mid-day glare falling upon her, showed every curve ofher tall full form; every line in the calm, pale Sibylline face. Thelarge steel gray eyes were shaded by drooping lids, heavily fringedwith black lashes, but when raised in a steady gaze the pupils appearedabnormally dilated; and the delicately traced black brows thatoverarched them, contrasted conspicuously with the wealth of deepauburn hair darkened by mahogany tints, which rolled back in shiningwaves from her blue veined temples. While moulding the figure andfeatures upon a scale almost heroic, nature had jealously guarded thesymmetry of her work, and in addition to the perfect proportion of thestatuesque outlines, had bestowed upon the firm white flesh a gleamingsmoothness, suggestive of fine grained marble highly polished. Majestyof mien implies much, which the comparatively short period of eighteenyears rarely confers, yet majestic most properly describes this girl,whose archetype Veleda read runic myths to the Bructeri in the twilightof history.

  Beryl crossed the room, and with her hands folded tightly together,came to the low bed, on which lay the wreck of a once beautiful woman,and stood for a moment silent and pre-occupied. With a sudden gestureof surrender, she stooped her noble head, as if assuming a yoke, anddrew one long deep breath. Did some prophetic intuition show her atthat instant the Phicean Hill and its dread tenant, which sooner orlater we must all confront?

  "Dear mother, I submit. Obedience to your commands certainly ought notto lead me astray; yet I feel that I stand at the cross-roads, longingto turn and flee from the way whither your finger points. I have nohope of accomplishing any good, and nothing but humiliation can resultfrom the experiment; but I will go. Sometimes I believe; that fatemaliciously hunts up the things we most bitterly abhor, and one by onesets them down before us--labelled Duty. When do you wish me to start?"

  "To-night, at nine o'clock. In the letter which you will take tofather, I have told him our destitution; and that the money spent foryour railway ticket has been obtained by the sacrifice of the diamondsand pearls, that were set around my mother's picture; that cameo, whichhe had cut in Rome and framed in Paris. Beryl so much depends on theimpression you make upon him, that you must guard your manner againsthaughtiness. Try to be patient, my daughter, and if he should seemharsh, do not resent his words. He is old now, and proud and bitter,but he once had a tender love for me. I was his idol, and when my childpleads, he will relent."

  Mrs. Brentano laid her thin hot fingers on her daughter's hands,drawing her down to the edge of the bed; and Beryl saw she wasquivering with nervous excitement.

  "Compose yourself, mother, or you will be so ill that I cannot leaveyou. Dr. Grantlin impressed upon us, the necessity of keeping yournervous system quiet. Take your medicine now, and try to sleep until Icome back from Stephen & Endicott's."

  "Do not go to-day."

  "I must. Those porcelain types were promised for a certain day, andthey should be packed in time for the afternoon express going toBoston."

  "Beryl."

  "Well, mother?"

  "Come nearer to me. Give me your hand. My heart is so oppressed bydread, that I want you to promise me something, which I fancy willlighten my burden. Life is very uncertain, and if I should die, whatwould become of my Bertie? Oh, my boy! my darling, my first born! He isso impulsive, so headstrong; and no one but his mother could everexcuse or forgive his waywardness. Although younger, you are in somerespects, the strongest; and I want your promise that you will alwaysbe patient and tender with him, and that you will shield him from evil,as I have tried to do. His conscience of course, is not sensitive likeyours--because you know, a boy's moral nature is totally different froma girl's; and like most of his sex, Bertie has no religious instinctsbending him always in the right direction. Women generally have tosupply conscientious scruples for men, and you can take care of yourbrother, if you will. You are unusually brave and strong, Beryl, andwhen I am gone, you must stand between him and trouble. My good littlegirl, will you?"

  The large luminous eyes that rested upon the flushed face of theinvalid, filled with a mist of yearning compassionate tenderness, andtaking her mother's hands, Beryl laid the palms together, then stoopingnearer, kissed her softly.

  "I think I have never lacked love for Bertie, though I may not alwayshave given expression to my feelings. If at times I have deplored hisreckless waywardness, and expostulated with him, genuine affectionprompted me; but I promise you now, that I will do all a sisterpossibly can for a brother. Trust me, mother; and rest in the assurancethat his welfare shall be more to me than my own; that should thenecessity arise, I will stand between him and trouble. Banish alldepressing forebodings. When you are strong and well, and when I paintmy great picture, we will buy a pretty cottage among the lilacs androses, where birds sing all day long, where cattle pasture in clovernooks; and then Bertie, your darling, shall never leave you again."

  "I do trust you, for your promise means more than oath and vows fromother people, and if occasion demand, I know you will guard my Bertie,my high-strung, passionate, beautiful boy! Your pretty cottage? Ah,child! when shall we dwell in Spain?"

  "Some day, some day; only be hopeful, and let me find you better when Ireturn. Sleep, and dream of our pretty cottage. I must hurry away withmy pictures, for this is pay day."

  Tying the strings of her hat under one ear, and covering her face witha blue veil, Beryl took a pasteboard box from a table, on which laybrushes and paints, and leaving the door a-jar, went down the narrowstairs.

  At the window of a small hall on the next floor, a woman sat before hersewing-machine, bending so close to her work that she did no
t see thetall form, which paused before her, until a hand was laid on the steelplate.

  "Mrs. Emmet, will you please be so good as to go up after a while, andsee if mother needs anything?"

  "Certainly, Miss, if I am here, but I have some sewing to carry homethis afternoon."

  "I shall not be absent more than two hours. To-night I am going South,to attend to some business; and mother tells me you have promised towait upon her, and allow your daughter Maggie to sleep on a pallet byher bed, while I am gone. I cannot tell you how grateful I shall be forany kindness you may show her, and I wish you would send the baby oftento her room, as he is so sweet and cunning, and his merry ways amuseher."

  "Yes, I will do all I can. We poor folks who have none of this world'sgoods, ought to be rich at least in sympathy and pity for each other'ssuffering, for it is about all we have to share. Don't you worry andfret, for I will see your ma has what she needs. I was mothered by thebest woman God ever made, and since she died, every sick mother I seehas a sort of claim on my heart."

  Pausing an instant to adjust the tucker of her machine, Mrs. Emmetlooked up, and involuntarily the women shook hands, as if sealing acompact.

  It was a long walk to the building whither Beryl directed her steps,and as she passed through the rear entrance of a large and fashionablephotograph establishment, she was surprised to find that it washalf-past two o'clock.

  The Superintendent of the department, from whom she received her work,was a man of middle-age, of rather stern and forbidding aspect; and asshe approached his desk, he pointed to the clock on the mantel-piece.

  "Barely time to submit those types for inspection, and have them packedfor the express going East. They are birthday gifts, and birthdays havean awkward habit of arriving rigidly on time."

  He unrolled the tissue paper, and with a magnifying glass, carefullyexamined the pictures; then took from an envelope in the box, two shortpieces of hair, which he compared with the painted heads before him.

  "Beautifully done. The lace on that child's dress would bear even astronger lens than my glass. Here Patterson, take this box, and letterto Mr. Endicott, and if satisfactory, carry them to the packingcounter. Shipping address is in the letter. Hurry up, my lad. Sit down,Miss Brentano."

  "Thank you, I am not tired. Mr. Mansfield, have you any good news forme?"

  "You mean those etchings; or the designs for the Christmas cards? Havenot heard a word, pro or con. Guess no news is good news; for I notice'rejected' work generally travels fast, to roost at home."

  "I thought the awards were made last week, and that to-day you couldtell me the result."

  "The awards have been made, I presume, but who owns the lucky cards isthe secret that has not yet transpired. You young people have norespect for red tape, and methodical business routine. You want toclap spurs on fate, and make her lower her own last record? 'Bide awee.Bide awee'."

  "Winning this prize means so much to me, that I confess I find it veryhard to be patient. Success would save me from a painful and expensivejourney, upon which I must start to-night; and therefore I hoped soearnestly that I might receive good tidings to-day. I am obliged to goSouth on an errand, which will necessitate an absence of several days,and if you should have any news for me, keep it until I call again. Ifunfavorable it would depress my mother, and therefore I prefer youshould not write, as of course she will open any letters addressed tome. Please save all the work you can for me, and I will come here assoon as I get back home."

  "Very well. Any message, Patterson?"

  "Mr. Endicott said, 'All right; first-rate;' and ordered them shipped."

  "Here is your money, Miss Brentano. Better call as early as you can, asI guess there will be a lot of photographs ready in a few days. Goodafternoon."

  "Thank you. Good-bye, sir."

  From the handful of small change, she selected some pennies which sheslipped inside of her glove, and dropping the remainder into herpocket, left the building, and walked on toward Union Square. Absorbedin grave reflections, and oppressed by some vague foreboding ofimpending ill, dim, intangible and unlocalized--she moved slowly alongthe crowded sidewalk--unconscious of the curious glances directedtoward her superb form, and stately graceful carriage, which more thanone person turned and looked back to admire, wondering when she hadstepped down from some sacred Panathenaic Frieze.

  Near Madison Square, she paused before the window of a florist's, andraising her veil, gazed longingly at the glowing mass of blossoms,which Nineteenth Century skill and wealth in defiance of isothermallines, and climatic limitations force into perfection, in, and out ofseason. The violet eyes and crocus fingers of Spring smiled andquivered, at sight of the crimson rose heart, and flaming paeony cheeksof royal Summer; and creamy and purple chrysanthemums that quill theirlaces over the russet robes of Autumn, here stared in indignantamazement, at the premature presumption of snowy regal camellias,audaciously advancing to crown the icy brows of Winter. All latitudes,all seasons have become bound vassals to the great God Gold; and hisnecromancy furnishes with equal facility the dewy wreaths of orangeflowers that perfume the filmy veils of December brides--and the bluebells of spicy hyacinths which ring "Rest" over the lily pillows, setas tribute on the graves of babies, who wilt under August suns.

  From early childhood, an ardent love of beauty had characterized thisgirl, whose covetous gaze wandered from a gorgeous scarlet and goldorchid nodding in dreams of its habitat, in some vanilla scentedBrazilian jungle, to a bed of vivid green moss, where skilful hands hadgrouped great drooping sprays of waxen begonias, coral, faint pink, andivory, all powdered with gold dust like that which gilds the heart ofwater-lilies.

  Such treasures were reserved for the family of Dives; and counting herpennies, Beryl entered the store, where instantaneously the blendedbreath of heliotrope, tube-rose and mignonette wafted her across theocean, to a white-walled fishing village on the Cornice, whose grayrocks were kissed by the blue lips of the Mediterranean.

  "What is the price of that cluster of Niphetos buds?"

  "One dollar."

  "And that Auratum--with a few rose geranium leaves added?"

  "Seventy-five cents. You see it is wonderfully large, and the goldbands are so very deep."

  She put one hand in her pocket and fingered a silver coin, but povertyis a grim, tyrannous stepmother to tender aestheticism, and prudentialconsiderations prevailed.

  "Give me twenty-five cents worth of those pale blue double violets,with a sprig of lemon verbena, and a fringe of geranium leaves."

  She laid the money on the counter, and while the florist selected andbound the blossoms into a bunch, she arrested his finishing touch.

  "Wait a moment. How much more for one Grand Duke jasmine in the centre?"

  "Ten cents, Miss."

  She added the dime to the pennies she could ill afford to spare fromher small hoard, and said: "Will you be so kind as to sprinkle it? Iwish it kept fresh, for a sick lady."

  Dusky shadows were gathering in the gloomy hall of the old tenementhouse, when Beryl opened the door of the comfortless attic room, wherefor many months she had struggled bravely to shield her mother from thewolf, that more than once snarled across the threshold.

  Mrs. Brentano was sitting in a low chair, with her elbows on her knees,her face hidden in her palms; and in her lap lay paper and pencil,while a sealed letter had fallen on the ground beside her. At the soundof the opening door, she lifted her head, and tears dripped upon thepaper. In her faded flannel dressing-gown, with tresses of black hairstraggling across her shoulders, she presented a picture of helplessmental and physical woe, which painted itself indelibly on the panelsof her daughter's heart.

  "Why did you not wait until I came home? The exertion of getting upalways fatigues you."

  "You staid so long--and I am so uncomfortable in that wretchedly hardbed. What detained you?"

  "I went to see the Doctor, because I am unwilling to start away,without having asked his advice; and he has prescribed some newmedicine w
hich you will find in this bottle. The directions are markedon the label. Now I will put things in order, and try my hands on thatrefractory bed."

  "What did the Doctor say about me?"

  "Nothing new; but he is confident that you can be cured in time, if wewill only be patient and obedient. He promised to see you in themorning."

  She stripped the bed of its covering, shook bolster and pillows; turnedover the mattress, and beat it vigorously; then put on fresh sheets,and adjusted the whole comfortably.

  "Now mother, turn your head, and let me comb and brush and braid allthis glossy black satin, to keep it from tangling while I am away. Whata pity you did not dower your daughter with part of it, instead of thistawny mane of mine, which is a constant affront to my fastidiousartistic instincts. Please keep still a moment."

  She unwrapped the tissue paper that covered her flowers, and holdingher hands behind her, stepped in front of the invalid.

  "Dear mother, shut your eyes. There--! of what does that remind you?The pergola--with great amber grape clusters--and white stars ofjasmine shining through the leaves? All the fragrance of Italy sleepsin the thurible of this Grand-Duke."

  "How delicious! Ah, my extravagant child! we cannot afford suchluxuries now. The perfume recalls so vividly the time when Bertie--"

  A sob cut short the sentence. Beryl pinned the flowers at her mother'sthroat, kissed her cheek, and kneeling before her, crossed her arms onthe invalid's lap, resting there the noble head, with its burnishedcrown of reddish bronze braids.

  "Mother dear, humor my childish whim. In defiance of my wishes andjudgment, and solely in obedience to your command, I am leaving you forthe first time, on a bitterly painful and humiliating mission.To-night, let me be indeed your little girl once more. My heart bringsme to your knees, to say my prayers as of yore, and now while I pray,lay your dear pretty hands on my head. It will seem like a partingbenediction; a veritable Nunc dimmitas."