me repeat half a dozen lines of Homer, I should not have been asked to walk in. I might have leaned over the gate till sunset, and have had no more notice taken of me than if I had been a crow.'
At dinner the doctor narrated his morning adventure to Mrs. Opimian, and found her, as he had anticipated, most virtuously uncharitable with respect to the seven sisters. She did not depart from her usual serenity, but said, with equal calmness and decision, that she had no belief in the virtue of young men.
'My dear,' said the doctor, 'it has been observed, though I forget by whom, that there is in every man's life a page which is usually doubled down. Perhaps there is such a page in the life of our young friend; but if there be, the volume which contains it is not in the same house with the seven sisters.'
The doctor could not retire to rest without verifying his question touching the hair of the Vestals; and stepping into his study, was taking out an old folio, to consult Lipsius de Vestalibus, when a passage flashed across his memory which seemed decisive on the point. 'How could I overlook it?' he thought—
'Ignibus Iliacis aderam: cum lapsa capillis
Decidit ante sacros lanea vitta focos:{1}
says Rhea Sylvia in the Fasti.'
He took down the Fasti, and turning over the leaves, lighted on another line:—
Attonitæ flebant demisso crine ministræ.{2}
With the note of an old commentator: 'This will enlighten those who doubt if the Vestals wore their hair.' 'I infer,' said the doctor, 'that I have doubted in good company; but it is clear that the Vestals did wear their hair of second growth.
1 The woollen wreath, by Vesta's inmost shrine,
Fell from my hair before the fire divine.
2 With hair dishevelled wept the vestal train.
But if it was wrapped up in wool, it might as well not have been there. The vitta was at once the symbol and the talisman of chastity. Shall I recommend my young friend to wrap up the heads of his Vestals in a vitta? It would be safer for all parties. But I cannot imagine a piece of advice for which the giver would receive less thanks. And I had rather see them as they are. So I shall let well alone.'
CHAPTER V
THE SEVEN SISTERS
(Greek passage.)
Euripides: Alcestis.
Rejoice thy spirit: drink: the passing day
Esteem thine own, and all beyond as Fortune's.
The doctor was not long without remembering his promise to revisit his new acquaintance, and, purposing to remain till the next morning, he set out later in the day. The weather was intensely hot: he walked slowly, and paused more frequently than usual, to rest under the shade of trees. He was shown into the drawing-room, where he was shortly joined by Mr. Falconer, and very cordially welcomed.
The two friends dined together in the lower room of the tower. The dinner and wine were greatly to the doctor's mind. In due time they adjourned to the drawing-room, and the two young handmaids who had waited at dinner attended with coffee and tea. The doctor then said—'You are well provided with musical instruments. Do you play?'
Mr. Falconer. No. I have profited by the observation of Doctor Johnson: 'Sir, once on a time I took to fiddling; but I found that to fiddle well I must fiddle all my life, and I thought I could do something better.'
The Rev. Dr. Opimian. Then, I presume, these are pieces of ornamental furniture, for the use of occasional visitors?
Mr. Falconer. Not exactly. My maids play on them, and sing to them.
The Rev. Dr. Opimian. Your maids!
Mr. Falconer. Even so. They have been thoroughly well educated, and are all accomplished musicians.
The Rev. Dr. Opimian. And at what time do they usually play on them?
Mr. Falconer. Every evening about this time, when I am alone.
The Rev. Dr. Opimian. And why not when you have company?
Mr. Falconer. La Morgue aristocratique, which pervades all society, would not tolerate such a proceeding on the part of young women, of whom some had superintended the preparation of the dinner, and others attended on it. It would not have been incongruous in the Homeric age.
The Rev. Dr. Opimian. Then I hope you will allow it to be not incongruous this evening, Homer being the original vinculum between you and me.
Mr. Falconer. Would you like to hear them?
The Rev. Dr. Opimian. Indeed I should.
The two younger sisters having answered the summons, and the doctor's wish having been communicated, the seven appeared together, all in the same dress of white and purple.
'The seven Pleiads!' thought the doctor. 'What a constellation of beauty!' He stood up and bowed to them, which they gracefully acknowledged.
They then played on, and sang to, the harp and piano. The doctor was enchanted.
After a while, they passed over to the organ, and performed some sacred music of Mozart and Beethoven. They then paused and looked round, as if for instructions.
'We usually end,' said Mr. Falconer, 'with a hymn to St. Catharine, but perhaps it may not be to your taste; although Saint Catharine is a saint of the English Church Calendar.'
'I like all sacred music,' said the doctor. 'And I am not disposed to object to a saint of the English Church Calendar.'
'She is also,' said Mr. Falconer, 'a most perfect emblem of purity, and in that sense alone there can be no fitter image to be presented to the minds of young women.'
'Very true,' said the doctor. 'And very strange withal,' he thought to himself.
The sisters sang their hymn, made their obeisance, and departed.
The Rev. Dr. Opimian. The hands of these young women do not show signs of menial work.
Mr. Falconer. They are the regulating spirits of the household. They have a staff of their own for the coarser and harder work.
The Rev. Dr. Opimian. Their household duties, then,
