The Sword of Damocles: A Story of New York Life

by Anna Katharine Green

  XIII.

  THE END OF MY LADY'S PICTURE.

  "Heaven from all creatures tides the book of Fate."--POPE.

  Mrs. Sylvester was spending an evening at home. This was something sounusual for this august lady of fashion to indulge in, that she found itdifficult not to fall asleep in the huge crimson-backed chair in whichshe had chosen to ensconce herself. Not that she had desisted frommaking every effort known to mortal woman to keep herself awake and ifpossible amused till the expected travellers should arrive. She hadplayed with her bird till the spoiled pet had himself protested, duckinghis head under his wing and proceeding without ceremony to make up hislittle feather bed, as cunning Geraldine used to call the round, fluffyball into which he rolled himself at night. More than that, she hadlooked over her ornaments and taken out such articles as she thoughtcould be spared for Paula, to say nothing of playing a bar or so fromthe last operatic sensation, and laboriously cutting open the leaves ofthe new magazine. But it was all of no use, and the heavy white lidswere slowly falling, when the bell rang and Mr. Bertram Mandeville wasannounced, or rather Bertram Sylvester as he now chose to be called.

  It was a godsend to her as she politely informed him upon his entrance;and though in his secret heart he felt anything but God sent--he was notof a make to appreciate his uncle's wife at her very evident value--heconsented to remain and assist her in disposing of the evening till Mr.Sylvester should return.

  "He is going to bring a pretty girl with him," remarked she, in a toneof some interest, "a cousin of mine from Grotewell. I should like tohave you see her."

  "Thank you," replied he, his mind roaming off at the suggestion, intothe region of a certain plain little music-room where the clock on themantel ticked to the beating of his own heart. And for ten minutes Mrs.Sylvester had the pleasure of filling the room with a stream of easytalk, in which Grotewell, dark beauties, the coming Seventh Regimentreception, the last bit of gossip from London, and the exact situationof the Madison Bank formed the principal topics.

  To the one last mentioned, it having taken the form of a question, hewas forced to reply; but the simple locality having been learned, sherambled easily on, this time indulging him with a criticism upon thepersonal appearance of certain business gentlemen who visited the house,ending with the somewhat startling declaration:

  "If Edward were not the fine appearing gentleman that he undoubtedly is,I should feel utterly out of place in these handsome parlors. Anythingbut to see an elegant and modern home, decorated with the costliestworks of art, and filled with _bijouterie_ of the most exquisitedelicacy, presided over by a plain and common-place woman or abald-headed and inferior-looking man. The contrast is too vivid; worksof the highest art do not need such a startling comparison to bring outtheir beauty. Now if Edward stood in the throne-room of a palace, hewould somehow make it seem to others as a handsome set off to his ownface and figure."

  This was all very wife-like if somewhat unnecessary, and Bertram couldhave listened to it with pleasure, if she had not cast the frequent andside-long glances at the mirror, which sufficiently betrayed the factthat she included herself in this complacent conclusion; as indeed shemay have considered herself justified in doing, husband and wife beingundoubtedly of one flesh. As it was, he maintained an immovablecountenance, though he admired his uncle as much as she did, and theconversation gradually languished till the white somnolent lids of thelady again began to show certain premonitory signs of drooping, whensuddenly they were both aroused by the well known click of a latch-keyin the door, and in another moment Mr. Sylvester's voice was heard inthe hall, saying, in tones whose cheery accents made his wife's eyesopen in surprise--

  "Welcome home, my dear."

  "They have come," murmured Mrs. Sylvester rising with a look ofundeniable expectation. Had Paula not been a beauty she would haveremained seated.

  "Yes, we have come," was heard in hearty tones from the door-way, andMr. Sylvester with a proud look which Bertram long remembered, usheredinto their presence a young girl whose simple cloak and bonnet in nowise prevented Mrs. Sylvester from recognizing the somewhat uncommonbeauty she had been led to expect.

  "Paula, this is your cousin Ona, and--Ah, Bertram, glad to see you--thisis my only nephew, Mr. Sylvester."

  The young girl, lost in the sudden glamour of numerous lights, shiningupon splendors such as she may have dreamed of over the pages ofIrving's Alhambra, but certainly had never before seen, blushed withvery natural embarrassment, but yet managed to bestow a pretty enoughgreeting upon the elegant woman and handsome youth, while Ona after thefirst moment of almost involuntary hesitation, took in hers the twotrembling hands of her youthful cousin and actually kissed her cheek.

  "I am not given to caresses as you know," she afterwards explained in asomewhat apologetic tone to her husband; "and anything like an appealfor one on the part of a child or an inferior, I detest; but her simpleway of holding out her hand disarmed me, and then such a face demands acertain amount of homage, does it not?" And her husband in his surprise,was forced to acknowledge to himself, that as closely as he had studiedhis wife's nature for ten years, there were certain crooks and turns init which even he had never penetrated.

  "You look dazzled," that lady exclaimed, gazing not unkindly into theyoung girl's face; "the sudden glare of so much gas-light has bewilderedyou."

  "I do not think it is that," returned Paula with a frank and admiringlook at the gorgeous room and the circle of pleasant faces about her."Sudden lights I can bear, but I have come from a little cottage on thehillside and the magnificence of nature does not prepare you for thefirst sudden view of the splendors of art."

  Mrs. Sylvester smiled and cast a side glance of amusement at Bertram."You admire our new hangings I see," remarked she with an indulgence ofthe other's _naeivete_ that greatly relieved her husband.

  But in that instant a change had come across Paula; the simple countrymaid had assimilated herself with the surroundings, and with a suddengrace and dignity that were unstudied as they were charming, dropped hereyes from her cousin's portrait--that for some reason seemed to shinewith more than its usual insistence--and calmly replied, "I admire allbeautiful color; it is my birthright as a Walton, to do so, I suppose."

  Mrs. Sylvester was a Walton also and therefore smiled; but her husband,who had marked with inward distrust, the sudden transformation in Paula,now stepped forward with a word or two of remark concerning hisappetite, a prosaic allusion that led to the rapid disappearance of theladies upstairs and a short but hurried conversation between the twogentlemen.

  "I have brought you a sealed envelope from the office," said Bertram,who, in accordance with his uncle's advice, had already initiatedhimself into business by assuming the position of clerk in the office ofthe wealthy speculator.

  "Ah," returned his uncle hastily opening it. "As I expected, a meetinghas been held this day by the board of Directors of the Madison Bank, avote was cast, my proxy did his duty and I am duly elected President.Bertram, we know what that means," smiled he, holding out his hand withan affectionate warmth greatly in advance of the emotion displayed byhim on a former occasion.

  "I hope so indeed," young Bertram responded. "An increase of fortune andhonor for you, though you seem to have both in the fullest measurealready, and a start in the new life for me to whom fortune and honormean happiness."

  A smile younger and more full of hope than any he had seen on hisuncle's face for years, responded to this burst. "Bertram," said he,"since our conversation of a couple of weeks ago something has occurredwhich somewhat alters the opinions I then expressed. If you havepatience equal to your energy, and a self-control that will not put toshame your unbounded trust in women, I think I can say God-speed to yourserious undertaking, with something like a good heart. Women are not allfrivolous and foolish-minded; there are some jewels of simple goodnessand faith yet left in the world."

  "Thank God for your conversion," returned his nephew smiling, "and ifthis lovely girl whom you have j
ust introduced to me, is the cause ofit, then thank God for her also."

  His uncle bowed with a gravity almost solemn, but the ladies returningat this moment, he refrained from further reply. After supper, to whichunusual meal Mr. Sylvester insisted upon his nephew remaining, the twogentlemen again drew apart.

  "If you have decided upon buying the shares I have mentioned," said theformer, "you had better get your money in a position to handle at once.I shall wish to present you to Mr. Stuyvesant to-morrow, and I shouldlike to be able to mention you as a future stockholder in the bank."

  "Mr. Stuyvesant!" exclaimed Bertram, ignoring the rest of the sentence.

  "Yes," returned his uncle with a smile, "Thaddeus Stuyvesant is the nextlargest stockholder to myself in the Madison Bank, and his patronage isnot an undesirable one."

  "Indeed--I was not aware--excuse me, I should be happy," stammered theyoung man. "As for the money, it is all in Governments and is at yourcommand whenever you please."

  "That is good, I'll notify you when I'm ready for the transfer. And nowcome," said he, with a change from his deep business tone to the lighterone of ordinary social converse, "forget for a half hour that you havediscarded the name of Mandeville, and give us an aria or a sonata fromMendelssohn before those hands have quite lost their cunning."

  "But the ladies," inquired the youth glancing towards the drawing-roomwhere Mrs. Sylvester was giving Paula her first lesson in ceramics.

  "Ah, it is to see how the charm will act upon my shy country lassie,that I request such a favor."

  "Has she never heard Mendelssohn?"

  "Not with your interpretation."

  Without further hesitation the young musician proceeded to the piano,which occupied a position opposite to my lady's picture in thisanomalous room denominated by courtesy the library. In another instant,a chord delicate and ringing, disturbed the silence of the long vista,and one of Mendelssohn's most exquisite songs trembled in all itsdelicious harmony through these apartments of sensuous luxury.

  Mr. Sylvester had seated himself where he could see the distant figureof Paula, and leaning back in his chair, watched for the first startledresponse on her part. He was not disappointed. At the first note, hebeheld her spirited head turn in a certain wondering surprise, followedpresently by her whole quivering form, till he could perceive her face,upon which were the dawnings of a great delight, flush and pale byturns, until the climax of the melody being reached, she came slowlydown the room, stretching out her hands like a child, and breathingheavily as if her ecstacy of joy in its impotence to adequately expressitself, had caught an expression from pain.

  "O Mr. Sylvester!" was all she said as she reached that gentleman'sside; but Bertram Mandeville recognized the accents of an unfathomableappreciation in that simple exclamation, and struck into a grand oldbattle-song that had always made his own heart beat with something ofthe fire of ancient chivalry under its breastplate of modern broadcloth.

  "It is the voice of the thunder clouds when they marshal for battle!"exclaimed she at the conclusion. "I can hear the cry of a righteousstruggle all through the sublime harmony."

  "You are right; it is a war-song ancient as the time of battle-axes andspears," quoth Bertram from his seat at the piano.

  "I thought I detected the flashing of steel," returned she. "O what aworld lies in those simple bits of ivory!"

  "Say rather in the fingers that sweep them," uttered Mr. Sylvester. "Youwill not hear such music often."

  "I am glad of that," she cried simply, then in a quick conscious toneexplained, "I mean that the hearing of such music makes an era in ourlife, a starting-point for thoughts that reach away into eternity; wecould not bear such experiences often, it would confuse the spirit ifnot deaden its enjoyment. Or so it seems to me," she added naively,glancing at her cousin who now came sweeping in from the further room,where she had been trying the effect of a change in the arrangement oftwo little pet monstrosities of Japanese ware.

  "What seems to you?" that lady inquired. "O, Mr. Mandeville's playing? Ibeg pardon, Sylvester is the name by which you now wish to be addressedI suppose. Fine, isn't it?" she rambled on all in the same tone whileshe cautiously hid an unfortunate gape of her rosy mouth behind thefolds of her airy handkerchief. "Mr. Turner says the hiatus you havemade in the musical world by leaving the concert room for the desk, cannever be repaired," she went on, supposedly to her nephew though she didnot look his way, being at that instant engaged in sinking into herfavorite chair.

  "I am glad," Bertram politely returned with a frank smile, "to haveenjoyed the approval of so cultivated a critic as Mr. Turner. I own itoccasions me a pang now and then," he remarked to his uncle over hisshoulder, "to think I shall never again call up those looks ofself-forgetful delight, which I have sometimes detected on the faces ofcertain ones in my audience."

  And he relapsed without pause into a solemn anthem, the very reverse ofthe stirring tones which he had previously accorded them.

  "Now we are in a temple!" whispered Paula, subduing the sudden interestand curiosity which this young man's last words had awakened. And theawe which crept over her countenance was the fittest interpretation tothose noble sounds, which the one weary-hearted man in that room couldhave found.

  "I have something to tell you, Ona," remarked Mr. Sylvester shortlyafter this, as the music being over, they all sat down for a final chatabout the fireside. "I have received notice that the directors of theMadison Bank have this day elected me their president. I thought youmight like to know it to-night."

  "It is a very gratifying piece of news certainly. President of theMadison Bank sounds very well, does it not, Paula?"

  The young girl with her soul yet ringing with the grand and solemnharmonies of Mendelssohn and Chopin, turned at this with her brightestsmile. "It certainly does and a little awe-inspiring too;" she addedwith her arch glance.

  "Your congratulations are also requested for our new assistant cashier.Arise, Bertram, and greet the ladies."

  With a blush his young nephew arose to his feet.

  "What! are you going into the banking business?" queried Mrs. Sylvester."Mr. Turner will be more shocked than ever: he chooses to say thatbankers, merchants and such are the solid rock of his church, while thelighter fry such as artists, musicians, and let us hope he includes usladies, are its minarets, and steeples. Now to make a foundation out ofa steeple will quite overturn his methodical mind I fear."

  Mr. Sylvester looked genially at his wife; she was not accustomed toattempt the facetious; but Paula seemed to have the power of bringingout unexpected lights and shadows from all with whom she came incontact.

  "A clergyman who rears his church on the basis of wealth must expectsome overturning now and then," laughed he.

  "If by means of it he turns a fresh side to the sun, it will do him noharm," chimed in Paula.

  Seldom had there been so much simple gaiety round that fireside; thevery atmosphere grew lighter, and the brilliance of my lady's picturebecame less oppressive.

  "We ought to have a happy winter of it," spoke up Mr. Sylvester with aglance around him. "Life never looked more cheerful for us all, I think;what do you say, Bertram my boy."

  "It certainly looks promising for me."

  "And for me," murmured Paula.

  The complacent way with which Mrs. Sylvester smoothed out the feathersof her fan with her jewelled right hand,--she always carried a fanwinter and summer, some said for the purpose of displaying those samejewelled fingers--was sufficient answer for her.

  At that moment there was a hush, when suddenly the small clock on themantel-piece struck eleven, and instantly as if awaiting the signal,there came a rush and a heavy crash which drew every one to their feet,and the brilliant portrait of my lady fell from the wall, and topplingover the cabinet beneath, slid with the various articles of bronze andchina thereon, almost to the very chair in which its handsome prototypehad been sitting.

  It was a startling interruption and for an instant no one spoke, thenPau
la with a look towards her cousin breathed to herself rather thansaid, "Pray God it be not an omen!" And the pale countenances of the twogentlemen standing face to face on either side of that fallen picture,showed that the shadow of the same superstition had insensibly crossedtheir own minds.

  Mrs. Sylvester was the only one who remained unmoved. "Lift if up,"cried she, "and let us see if it has sustained any injury."

  Instantly Bertram and her husband sprang forward, and in a moment itsglowing surface was turned upward. Who could read the meaning of thelook that crossed her husband's face as he perceived that the sharpspear of the bronze horseman, which had been overturned in the fall, hadpenetrated the rosy countenance of the portrait and destroyed thatimportunate smile forever.

  "I suppose it is a judgment upon me for putting all the money you hadallowed me for charitable purposes, into that exquisite bit of bronze,"observed Mrs. Sylvester, stooping above the overturned horseman with anexpression of regret she had not chosen to bestow on her own ruinedpicture. "Ah he is less of a champion than I imagined; he has lost hisspear in the struggle."

  Paula glanced at her cousin in surprise. Was this pleasantry only a veilassumed by this courtly lady to hide her very natural regret over themore serious accident? Even her husband turned toward her with a certainpuzzled inquiry in his troubled countenance. But her expression ofunconcern was too natural; evidently the destruction of the picture hadawakened but small regret in her volatile mind.

  "She is less vain than I thought," was the inward comment of Paula.

  Ah simple child of the woods and streams, it is the extent of her vanitynot the lack of it, that has produced this effect. She has begun torealize that ten years have elapsed since this picture was painted, andthat people are beginning to say as they examine it, "Mrs. Sylvester hasnot yet lost her complexion, I see."

  A break necessarily followed this disturbance, and before long Bertramtook his leave, not without a cordial pressure from his uncle's hand anda look of kindly interest from the stranger lassie, upon whosesympathetic and imaginative mind the hints let fall as to his formerprofession, had produced a deep impression. With his departure Mrs.Sylvester's weariness returned, and ere long she led the way to herapartments up stairs. As Paula was hastening to follow Mr. Sylvesterstopped her.

  "You will not allow this unfortunate occurrence," he said, with a slightgesture towards the picture now standing with its face against the wall,"to mar your first sleep under my roof, will you Paula, my child?"

  "No, not if you say that you think Cousin Ona will not be likely toconnect it with my appearance here."

  "I do not think she will; she is not superstitious and besides does notseem to greatly regret the misfortune."

  "Then I will forget it all and only remember the music."

  "It was all you anticipated?"

  "It was more."

  "Sometime I will tell you about the player and the sweet young girl heloves."

  "Does he--" she paused, blushing; love was a subject upon which she hadnever yet spoken to any one.

  "Yes he does," Mr. Sylvester returned smiling.

  "I thought there was a meaning in the music I did not quite understand.Good night, uncle,"--he had requested her to address him thus though hewas in truth her cousin, "and many, many thanks."

  But he stopped her again. "You think you will be happy in these rooms,"said he; "you love splendor."

  She was not yet sufficiently acquainted with his voice to detect theregret underlying its kindly tone, and answered without suspicion. "Idid not know it before, but I fear that I do. It dazzled at first, butnow it seems as if I had reached a home towards which I had always beenjourneying. I shall dream away hours of joy before each little ornamentthat adorns your parlors. The very tiles that surround the fireplacewill demand a week of attention at least."

  She ended with a smile, but unlike formerly he did not seem to catch theinfection. "I had rather you had cared less," said he, but instantlyregretted the seeming reproach, for her eyes filled with tears and thetones of her voice trembled as she replied,

  "Do you think the beauty I have seen has made me forget the kindnessthat has brought me here? I love fine and noble objects, glory of colorand harmony of shape, but more than all these do I love a generous soulwithout a blot on its purity, or a flaw in its integrity."

  She had meant to utter something that would show her appreciation of hisgoodness and the universal esteem in which he was held, but was quiteunprepared for the start that he gave and the unmistakable deepening ofthe shadow on his sombre face. But before she could express her regretat the offence, whatever it was, he had recovered himself, and it waswith a fatherly tenderness that he laid his hand upon hers while hesaid, "Such a soul may yours ever continue, my child," and then stoodwatching her as she glided up the stairs, her charming face showingevery now and then as she leaned on her winding way to the top, tobestow upon him the tender little smile she had already learned was hissolace and delight.

  It was the beginning of happier days for him.

  BOOK II.

  LIFE AND DEATH.