H. C. HARDING,
HINGHAM,
Mass.
University of California Berkeley
B E U L AH
BY AUGUSTA J. EVANS
it
NEW YORK:
DERBY & JACKSON, 119 NASSAU STREET,
1859.
aeeordine to Act of Congress, in the year 1859, bj
DERBY * JACKSON,
i dork's Offlc. of the District Court of the United State* for the Sonthern District of Xew York.
W. a T
TO MY AUNT,
S E A. B O E, 3ST JONES,
OP GEORGIA,
I DEDICATE THIS BOOK,
AS A FKEBLK TRIBUTE OF AFFECTION AND GRATITUDE.
919115
B E UL AH
CHAPTER I.
A JANUARY sun had passed the zeiiith, and the slanting rays
flamed over the window-panes of a large brick building, bearing
on its front in golden letters the inscription, " Orphan Asylum."
The structure was commodious, and surrounded by wide galleries^
while the situation offered a silent tribute to the discretion and
good sense of the board of managers, who selected the suburbs
instead of the more densely populated portion of the city. The
whitewashed palings inclosed, as a front yard or lawn, rather
more than an acre of ground, sown in grass and studded with
trees, among which the shelled walks meandered gracefully. A
long avenue of elms and poplars extended from the gate to the
principal entrance, and imparted to the Asylum an imposing
and venerable aspect. There was very little shrubbery, but
here and there orange boughs bent beneath their load of golden
fruitage, while the glossy foliage, stirred by the wind, trembled
and glistened in the sunshine. Beyond the inclosure stretched
the common, dotted with occasional clumps of pine and leafless
oaks, through which glimpses of the city might be had. Building
and grounds wore a quiet, peaceful, inviting look, singularly
appropriate for the purpose designated by the inscription,
" Orphan Asylum," a haven for the desolate and miserable.
t
8 BEUL AH.
Tbi Jrout d6ot ^>S;dl,o>ed, but upon the broad granite steps,
where, tj# sunJight .lay watm and tempting, sat a trio of the
; JamiU,$s/ ' ; IQ-' tli& fof ejro(Mid was a slight fairy form, "a wee
winsome thing," with coral lips, and large, soft blue eyes, set in a
frame of short, clustering golden curls. She looked about six
years old, and was clad, like her companions, in canary-colored
flannel dress,. and blue check apron. Lillian was the pet of the
Asylum, and now her rosy cheek rested upon her tiny white
palm, as though she wearied of^ the picture-book which lay at
her feet. The figure beside her, was one whose marvellous
beauty riveted the gaze of all who chanced to see her. The
child could have been but a few months older than Lillian, yet
the brilliant black eyes, the peculiar curve of the dimpled mouth,
and long, dark ringlets, gave to the oval face a maturer and
more piquant loveliness. The cast of Claudia's countenance
bespoke her foreign parentage, and told of the warm, fierce
Italian blood that glowed in her cheeks. There was fascinating
grace in every movement, even in the easy indolence of her
position, as she bent on one knee to curl Lillian's locks over, her
finger. On the upper step, in the rear of these two, sat a*girl
whose age could not have been very accurately guessed from her
countenance, and whose features contrasted strangely with those
of her companions. At a first casual glance, one thought her
rather homely, nay, decidedly ugly ; yet, to the curious physio-
lomist, this face presented greater attractions than either of the
others. Reader, I here paint you the portrait of that quiet
ttle figure, whose history is contained in the following pages.
A pair of large grey eyes set beneath an overhanging forehead
>oldly-projecting-forehead, broad and smooth ; a rather large
but finely cut mouth, an irreproachable nose, of the order fur-
b removed from aquiline, and heavy black eyebrows, which
tead of arching, stretched straight across and nearly met'
There was not a vestige of color in her cheeks; face, neck and
hands wore a sickly pallor, and a mass of rippling, jetty hair
drawn smoothly over the temples, rendered this marble-like"
BETJLAH. 9
whiteness more apparent. Unlike the younger children, Beulah
was busily sewing upon what seemed the counterpart of their
aprons ; and the sad expression of the countenance, the lips
firmly compressed, as if to prevent the utterance of complaint,
showed that she had become acquainted with cares and sorrows,
of which they were yet happily ignorant. Her eyes were bent
down on her work, and the long, black lashes nearly touched
her cold cheeks.
"Sister Beulah, ought Claudy to say that?" cried Lillian,
turning round and laying her hand upon the piece of sewing.
" Say what, Lilly ? I was not listening to you."
" She said she hoped that largest robin redbreast would get
drunk, and tumble down. He would be sure to bump some of
his pretty bright feathers out, if he rolled over the shells two or
three times," answered Lilly, pointing to a China-tree near,
where a flock of robins were eagerly chirping over the feast of
berries.
" Why, Claudy ! how can you wish the poor little fellow such
bad luck ?" The dark, thoughtful eyes, full of deep meaning,
rested on Claudia's radiant face.
" Oh ! you need not think I am a bear, or a hawk, ready to
swallow the darling little beauty alive I I would not have him
lose a feather for the world ; but I should like the fun of seeing
him stagger and wheel over and over, and tumble off the limb,
so that I might run and catch him in my apron. Do you think
/ would give him to our matron to make a pie ? No, you might
take off my fingers first !" and the little elf snapped them
emphatically in Beulah's face.
" Make a pie of robies, indeed ! I would starve before I
would eat a piece of it," chimed in Lilly, with childish horror at
the thought.
Claudia laughed with mingled mischief and chagrin. " You
say you would not eat a bit of roby-pie to save your life?
Well, you did it last week, anyhow."
" Oh, Claudy, I didn't 1"
10 BEULAH.
" Oh, but you did I Don't you remember Susan picked up a
bird last week that fell out of this very tree, and gave it to our
matron ? Well, didn't we have bird-pie for dinner ?"
" Yes, but one poor little fellow would not make a pie."
" They had some birds already that came from the market,
and I heard Mrs. Williams tell Susan to put it in with the
others. So, you see, you did eat roby-pie, and I didn't, for I
knew what was in it. I saw its head wrung off !"
11 Well, I hope I did not get any of roby : I won't eat any
more pie till they have all gone," was Lilly's consolatory reflec-
tion. Chancing to glance toward the gate, she exclaimed :
" There is a carriage."
" What is to day ? let me see, Wednesday : yes, this is the even-
ing for the ladies to meet here. Lil, is my face right clean ?
because that red-headed Miss Dorothy always takes particular
pains to look at it. She rubbed her pocket-handkerchief over it
the other day. I do hate her, don't you ?" cried Claudia, spring-
ing up and buttoning the band of her apron sleeve, which had
become unfastened.
" Why, Claudy, I am astonished to hear you talk so : Miss
Dorothy helps to buy food and clothes for us, and you ought to
be ashamed to speak of her as you do." As she delivered this
reprimand, Beulah snatched up a small volume and hid it in her
work-basket.
" I don't believe she gives us much. I do hate her, and I
can't help it, she is so ugly, and cross, and vinegar-faced. I
should not like her to look at my mug of milk. You don't love
her either, any more than I do, only you won't say anything about
her. But kiss me, and I promise I will be good, and not make
faces at her in my apron." Beulah stooped down and warmly
kissed the suppliant, then took her little sister's hand and led her
into the house, just as the carriage reached the door. The
children presented a pleasant spectacle as they entered the long
dining-room, and ranged themselves for inspection. Twenty-eight
heirs of orphanage, varying in y-ars, from one crawling infant, to
BEULAH. 11
well-nigh grown girls, all neatly clad, and with smiling, contented
faces, if we except one grave countenance, which might have
been remarked by the close observer. The weekly visiting com-
mittee consisted of four of the lady managers, but to-day the
number was swelled to six. A glance at the inspectors sufficed
to iuform Beulah that something of more than ordinary interest
had convened them on the present occasion, and she was passing
on to her accustomed place, when her eyes fell upon a familiar
face, partially concealed by a straw bonnet. It was her Sabbath-
school teacher ; a sudden glad light flashed over the girl's
countenance, and the pale lips disclosed a set of faultlessly beau-
tiful teeth, as she smiled and hastened to her friend.
11 How do you do, Mrs. Mason ? I am so glad to see you !"
" Thank you, Beulah, I have been promising myself this plea-
sure a great while. I saw Eugene this morning, and told him I
was coming out. He sent you a book and a message. Here is
the book. You are to mark the passages you like particularly,
and study them well until he comes. When did you see him
last?"
Mrs. Mason put the volume in her hand as she spoke.
" It has been more than a week since he was here, and I was
afraid he was sick. He is very kind and good to remember the
book he promised me, and I thank you very much, Mrs. Mason,
for bringing it." The face was radiant with new-born joy, but
it all died out when Miss Dorothea White (little Claudia's par-
ticular aversion) fixed her pale blue eyes upon her, and asked, in
a sharp, discontented tone :
" What ails that girl, Mrs. Williams ? she does not work
enough, or she would have some blood in her cheeks. Has she
been sick ?"
" No, madam, she has not been sick exactly, but somehow she
never looks strong and hearty like the others. She works well
enough. There is not a better or more industrious girl in the
asylum, but I rather think she studies too much. She will sit up
and read of nights, when the others are all sound asleep ; and
12 BE TIL AH.
very often, when Kate and I put out the hall lamp, we find her
with her book alone in the cold. I can't get rny consent to
forbid her reading, especially as it never interferes with her
regular work, and she is so fond of it." As the kind-hearted
matron uttered these words she glanced at the child and sighed
involuntarily.
" You are too indulgent, Mrs. Williams ; we cannot afford to
feed and clothe girls of her age, to wear themselves out reading
trash all night. We are very much in arrears at best, and I
think some plan should be adopted to make these large girls, who
have been on hand so long, more useful. What do you say,
ladies ?" Miss Dorothea looked around for some encouragement
and support in her move.
" Well, for my part, Miss White, I think that child is not
strong enough to do much hard work ; she always has looked
delicate and pale," said Mrs. Taylor, an amiable looking woman,
who had taken one of the youngest orphans on her knee.
11 My dear friend that is the very reason : she does not exer-
cise sufficiently to make her robust. Just look at her face and
hands, as bloodless as a turnip."
" Beulah, do ask her to give you some of her beautiful color ;
she looks exactly like a cake of tallow, with two glass beads in
the middle,"
" Hush !" and Beulah's hand was pressed firmly over Claudia's
crimson lips, lest the whisper of the indignant little brunette
should reach ears for which it was not intended.
As no one essayed to answer Miss White, the matron ven-
tured to suggest a darling scheme of her own.
" I have always hoped the managers would conclude to educate
her for a teacher. She is so studious, I know she would learn
very rapidly."
" My dear madam, you do not in the least understand what you
are talking about. It would require at least five years' careful
training to fit her to teach, and our finances do not admit of any
such expenditure. As the best thing for her, I should move to
BEULAH. 13
bind her out to a mantua-maker or milliner, but she could not
stand the confinement. She would go off with consumption in
less than a year. There is the trouble with these delicate
children."
" How is the babe that was brought here last week ?" asked
Mrs. Taylor.
" Oh, he is doing beautifully. Bring him round the table,
Susan," and the rosy, smiling infant was handed about for
closer inspection. A few general inquiries followed, and then
Beulah was not surprised to hear the order given for the child-
ren to retire, as the managers had some especial business
with their matron. The orphan band defiled into the hall, and
dispersed to their various occupations, but Beulah approached
the matron, and whispered something, to which the reply was :
" No : if you have finished that other apron, you shall sew
no more to-day. You can pump a fresh bucket of water, and
then run out into the yard for some air."
She performed the duty assigned to her, and then hastened
to the dormitory, whither Lillian and Claudia had preceded her.
The latter was standing on a chair, mimicking Miss Dorothea,
and haranguing her sole auditor, in a nasal twang, which she
contrived to force from her beautiful curling lips. At sight of
Beulah, she sprang toward her, exclaiming :
"You shall be a teacher if you want to, shan't you,
Beulah ?"
" I am afraid not, Claudy. But don't say any more about
her; she is not as kind as our dear matron, or some of the
managers, but she thinks she is right. Remember, she made
these pretty blue curtains round your and Lilly's bed."
" I don't care if she did. All the ladies were making them,
and she did no more than the rest. Never mind : I shall be a
young lady some of these days ; our matron says I will be
beautiful enough to marry the President, and then I will see
whether Miss Dorothy Red-head comes meddling and bothering
you any more." The brilliant eyes dilated with pleasure, at the
14 B E U L A H .
thought of the protection which the future Jady-President would
afford her protegee.
Beulah smiled, and asked almost gaily :
" Claudy, how much will you pay me a month, to dress you,
and keep your hair in order, when you get into the White
House at Washington ?"
" Oh, you dear darling I you shall have everything you want,
and do nothing but read." The impulsive child threw her arms
around Beulah's neck, and kissed her repeatedly, while the
latter bent down over her basket.
" Lilly, here are some chincapins for you and Claudy. I am
going out into the yard, and you may both go and play hull-
gull."
In the debating room of the visiting committee, Miss White
again had the floor. She was no less important a personage
than vice-president of the board of managers, and felt author-
ized to investigate closely, and redress all grievances.
" Who did you say sent that book here, Mrs. Mason ?"
" Eugene Rutland, who was once a member of Mrs. Williams'
orphan charge in this asylum. Mr. Graham adopted him, and
he is now known as Eugene Graham. He is very much attached
to Beulah, though I believe they are not at all related."
"He left the asylum before I entered the board. What
sort of boy is he ? I have seen him several times, and do not
particularly fancy him."
" Oh, madame, he is a noble boy 1 It was a great trial to
me to part with him three years ago. He is much older than
Beulah, and loves her as well as if she were his sister," said the
matron, more hastily than was her custom, when answering any
of the managers.
" I suppose he has put this notion of being a teacher into her
head ; well, she must get it out, that is all. I know of an
excellent situation, where a lady is willing to pay six dollars a
month for a girl of her age to attend to an infant, and I think
we must secure it for her."
BETJLAH. 15
" Oh, Miss White 1 she is not able to carry a heavy child
always in her arms," expostulated Mrs. Williams.
" Yes she is. I will venture to say she looks all the better
for it at the month's end."
The last sentence, fraught with interest to herself, fell upon
Beulah's ear, as she passed through the hall, and an unerring
intuition told her " you are the one." She put her hands over
her ears to shut out Miss Dorothea's sharp tones, and hurried
away, with a dim foreboding of coming evil, which pressed
heavily upon her young heart.
CHAPTER II.
THE following day, in obedience to the proclamation of the
mayor of the city, was celebrated as a season of special thanks-
giving, and the inmates of the asylum were taken to church to
morning service. After an early dinner, the matron gave them
permission to amuse themselves the remainder of the day as
their various inclinations prompted. There was an immediate
dispersion of the assemblage, and only Beulah lingered beside
the matron's chair.
" Mrs. Williams, may I take Lilly with me, and go out into
the woods at the back of the Asylum ?"
" I want you at home this evening, but I dislike very much
to refuse you."
" Oh! never mind, if you wish me to do anything," answered
the girl cheerfully.
Tears rolled over the matron's face, and hastily averting her
head, she wiped them away with the corner of her apron.
r ' Can I do anything to help you ? What is the matter ?"
" Never mind, Beulah; do you get your bonnet and go to the
16 BEULAH.
v
edge of the woods not too far, remember; and if I must have
you, why I will send for you."
" I would rather not go if it will be any trouble."
"No, dear, it's no trouble; I want you to go," answered
the matron, turning hastily away. Beulah felt very strongly
inclined to follow, and inquire what was in store for her; but
the weight on her heart pressed more heavily, and murmur-
ing to herself, "it will come time enough, time enough," she
passed on.
" May I come with you and Lilly ?" entreated little Claudia,
running down the walk at full speed, and putting her curly head
through the palings to make the request.
" Yes, come on. You and Lilly can pick up some nice smooth
burs to make baskets of. But where is your bonnet ?"
"I forgot it;" she ran np, almost out of breath, and seized
Beulah's hand.
"You forgot it, indeed! You little witch, you will burn as
black as a gipsy."
" I don't care if I do. I hate bonnets."
" Take care, Claudy; the President won't have you all freckled
and tanned."
" Won't he ?" queried the child, with a saucy sparkle in her
black eyes. ,
" That he won't; here, tie on my hood, and the next time you
come running after me, bareheaded, I will make you go back;
do you hear ?"
" Yes, I hear. I wonder why Miss Dorothy don't bleach off
her freckles; she looks just like a "
' Hush about her, and run on ahead."
"Do pray let me get my breath first; which way are we
going r f
"To the piney woods yonder," cried Lilly, clapping her hands
is!, glee; "won't we have fun, rolling and sliding on the
The two little ones walked on in advance
e path along which their feet pattered so carelessly led to
B E II L A H . 17
a hollow or ravine, and the ground on the opposite side rose into
small hillocks, thickly wooded with pines. Beulah sat down upon
a mound of moss and leaves; while Claudia and Lillian, throwing
off their hoods, commenced the glorious game of sliding. The
pine straw presented an almost glassy surface, and starting from
the top of a hillock, they slid down, often stumbling and rolling
together to the bottom. Many a peal of laughter rang out, and
echoed far back in the forest, and two blackbirds could not have
kept up a more continuous chatter. Apart from all this sat
Beulah; she had remembered the matron's words, and stopped
just at the verge of the woods, whence she could see the white
palings of the Asylum. Above her the winter breeze moaned
and roared in the pine tops; it was the sad but dearly loved
forest music that she so often stole out to listen to. Every
breath which sighed through the emerald boughs seemed to
sweep a sympathetic chord in her soul, and she raised her arms
toward the trees as though she longed to clasp the mighty
musical box of nature to her heart. The far-off blue of a cloud- "
less sky looked in upon her, like a watchful guardian; the sun-
light fell slantingly, now mellowing the brown leaves and
knotted trunks, and now seeming to shun the darker spots and
recesses, where shadows lurked. For a time, the girl forgot all,
but the quiet and majestic beauty of the scene. She loved na-
ture as only those can whose sources of pleasure have been sadly
curtailed, and her heart went out, so to speak, after birds, and
trees, and flowers, sunshine, and stars, and the voices of sweep-
ing winds. An open volume lay on her lap; it was Longfellow's
Poems, the book Eugene had sent her, and leaves were turned
down at " Excelsior," and the '* Psalm of Life." The changing
countenance indexed very accurately the emotions which were
excited by this communion with Nature. There was an up-
lifted look, a brave, glad, hopeful light in the grey eyes, gene-
rally so troubled in their expression. A sacred song rose on the
evening air, a solemn but beautiful hymn. She sang the words
of the great strength-giving poet, the "Psalm. of Life:"
18 BEULAH.
" Tell me not in mournful numbers,
Life is but an empty dream ;
For the soul is dead that slumbers,
And things are not what they seem."
It was wonderful what power and sweetness there was in her
voice; burst after burst of sweet melody fell from her trembling
lips. Her soul echoed the sentiments of the immortal bard, and
she repeated again and again the fifth verse:
" In the world's broad field of battle,
In the bivouac of life ;
Be not like dumb driven cattle,
Be a hero in the strife."
Intuitively she seemed to feel that an hour of great trial was
at hand, and this was a girding for the combat. With the
shield of a warm, hopeful heart, and the sword of a strong, un-
faltering will, she awaited the shock; but as she concluded her
song, the head bowed itself upon her arms, the shadow of the
unknown, lowering future had fallen upon her face, and only the
Great Shepherd knew what passed the pale lips of the young
orphan. She was startled by the sharp bark of a dog, and
looking up, saw a gentleman leaning against a neighboring tree,
and regarding her very earnestly. He came forward as she
perceived him, and said with a pleasant smile:
" You need not be afraid of my dog. Like his master, he
would not disturb you till you finished your song. Down, Carlo ;
be quiet, sir. My little friend, tell me who taught you to sing."
She had hastily risen, and a slight glow tinged her cheek at
his question. Though naturally reserved and timid, there was a
self-possession about her, unusual in children of her age, and she
answered in a low voice, " I have never had a teacher, sir ; but
I listen to the choir on Sabbath, and sing our Sunday-school
hymns at church."
" Do you know who wrote those words you sang just now ? I
was not aware they had been set to music ?"
B E TJ L A H . 19
"I found them in this book yesterday, and liked them so much
that I tried to sing them by one of our hymn tunes." She held
up the volume as she spoke.
He glanced at the title, and then looked curiously at her.
Beulah chanced just then to turn toward the Asylum, and saw
one of the oldest girls running across the common. The shadow
on her face deepened, and she looked around for Claudia and
Lillian. They had tired of sliding, and were busily engaged
picking up pine burs at some little distance in the rear.
" Come, Claudy Lilly our. matron has sent for us ; come,
make haste."
" Do you belong to the Asylum ?" asked the gentleman, shak-
ing the ashes from his cigar.
" Yes, sir," answered she, and as the children came up she
bowed and turned homeward.
" Wait a moment ; those are not your sisters, certainly ?"
His eyes rested with unfeigned admiration on their beautiful
faces.
" This one is, sir ; that is not." As she spoke she laid her
hand on Lillian's head. Claudia looked shyly at the stranger,
and then seizing Beulah's dress, exclaimed :
11 Oh, Beulah, don't let us go just yet. I left such a nice,
splendid pile of burs."
11 Yes, we must go, yonder comes Katy for us. Good even-
ing, sir,"
" Good evening, my little friend ; some of these days I shall
come to the Asylum to see you all, and have you sing that song
again."
She made no reply, but catching her sister's hand, walked
rapidly homeward. Katy delivered Mrs. Williams' message,
and assured Beulah she must make haste, for Miss Dorothy was
displeased that the children were absent.
11 What I is she there again, the hateful "
Beulah's hand was over Claudia's mouth, and prevented the
remainder of the sentence. That short walk was painful, and
20 B E U L A H .
conflicting hopes and fears chased each other in the sister's
heart, as she tightened her hold on Lilly's hand.
"Oh, what a beautiful carriage!" cried Claudia, as they
approached the door, and descried an elegant carriage, glittering
with silver mountings, and drawn by a pair of spirited black
horses.
" Yes, that it is, and there is a lady and gentleman here who
must be very rich, judging from their looks. They brought Miss
White."
" What do they want, Katy ?" asked Claudia.
" I don't know for certain, though I have my own thoughts,"
answered the girl, with a knowing laugh that grated on Beulah's
" Here, Beulah, bring them to the dormitory," said Mrs. Wil-
liams, meeting them at the door, and hurrying them up-stairs.
She hastily washed Claudia's face and recurled her hair, while
the same offices were performed for Lillian by her sister.
" Don't rub my hand so hard, you hurt," cried out Claudia,
sharply, as in perfect silence, and with an anxious countenance,
the kind matron dressed her.
" I only want to get it white and clean, beauty," was the con-
ciliatory reply.
"Well, I tell you that won't come off, because it's turpen-
tine," retorted the self-willed little elf.
"Come, Beulah, bring Lilly along. Miss White is out of
patience."
"What does all this mean?" said Beulah, taking her sister's
hand.
" Don't ask me, poor child." As she spoke, the good woman
ushered the trio into the reception-room. None of the other
children were present ; Beulah noted this circumstance, and
drawing a long breath, looked around.
Miss White was eagerly talking to a richly-dressed and very
pretty woman, while a gentleman stood beside thorn, impatiently
twirling his seal and watch-key.
B E U L A H . 21
All looked up, and Miss White exclaimed :
" Here they are : now, iny dear Mrs. Grayson, I rather think
you can be suited. Come here, little ones." She drew Claudia
to her side, while Lilly clung closer to her sister.
" Oh, what beauties ! Only look at them, Alfred I" Mrs.
Grayson glanced eagerly from one to the other.
" Very pretty children, indeed, my dear. Extremely pretty ;
particularly the black-eyed one," answered her husband, with far
less ecstasy.
" I don't know ; I believe I admire the golden-haired one most.
She is a perfect fairy. Come here, my love, and let me talk to
you," continued she, addressing Lilly. The child clasped her
sister's fingers more firmly, and did not advance an inch.
" Do not hold her, Beulah. Gome to the lady, Lillian," said
Miss White. As Beulah gently disengaged her hand, she felt as
if the anchor of hope had been torn from her hold, but. stooping
down, she whispered :
" Go to the lady, Lilly darling ; I will not leave you."
Thus encouraged, the little figure moved slowly forward, and
paused in front of the stranger. Mrs. Grayson took her small
white hands tenderly, and pressing a warm kiss on her lips, said
in a kind, winning tone :
" What is your name, my dear ?"
11 Lillian, ma'am, but sister calls me Lilly."
" Who is ' sister > little Claudia here ?"
" Oh, no ; sister Beulah." And the soft blue eyes turned
lovingly toward that gentle sister.
"Good heavens, Alfred, how totally unlike! This is one of
the most beautiful children I have ever seen, and that girl
yonder is ugly," said the lady, in an undertone to her husband,
who was talking to Claudia. It was said in a low voice, but
Beulah heard every syllable, and a glow of shame for an instant
bathed her brow. Claudia heard it too, and springing from Mr.
Grayson's knee, she exclaimed angrily :
" She isn't ugly, any such thing ; she is the smartest girl
22 B E U L A H .
in the Asylum, and I love her better than anybody in the
world."
" No, Beulah is not pretty, but she is good, and that is far
better," said the matron, laying her trembling hand on Beulah's
shoulder. A bitter smile curled the girl's lips, but she did not
move her eyes from Lillian's face.
" Fanny, if you select that plain-spoken little one, you will
have some temper to curb," suggested Mr. Grayson, somewhat
amused by Claudia's burst of indignation.
" Oh, my dear husband, I 'must have them both : only fancy
how lovely they will be, dressed exactly alike. My little Lilly,
and you Claudia, will you come and be my daughters ? I shall
love you very much, and that gentleman will be your papa. He
is very kind. You shall have big wax dolls, as high as your
heads, and doll-houses, and tea-sets, and beautiful blue and pink
silk dresses, and every evening I shall take you out to ride in
my carriage. Each of you shall have a white hat, with long,
curling feathers. Will you come and live with me, aiid let me
be your mamma ?" -'
Beulah's face assumed an ashen hue, as she listened to these
coaxing words. She had not thought of separation ; the evil
had never presented itself in this form, and staggering forward,
she clutched the matron's dress, saying hoarsely :
" Oh, don't separate us ! Don't let them take Lilly from me I
I will do anything on earth, I will work my hands off ; oh, do
anything, but please, oh please, don't give Lilly up. My own
darling Lilly." Claudia here interrupted :
" I should like to go well enough, if you will take Beulah too.
Lil, are you going ?"
1 No, no." Lillian broke away from the stranger's clasping
arm, and rushed toward her sister ; but Miss White sat between
them, and catching the child, she firmly, though very gently,
held her back. Lilly was very much afraid of her, and bursting
into tears, she cried imploringly :
" Oh, sister 1 take me, take me I"
BE-ULAH. 23
Beulah sprang to her side, and said almost fiercely : " Give her
to me : she is mine, and you have no right to part us." She ex-
tended her arms toward the little form, struggling to reach her.
" The managers have decided that it is for the child's good,
that Mrs. Grayson should adopt her. We dislike very much to
separate sisters, but it cannot be avoided ; whole families can't be
adopted by one person, and you must not interfere. She will
soon be perfectly satisfied away from you, and instead of encou-
raging her to be rebellious, you ought to coax her to behave, and
go peaceably," replied Miss White, still keeping Beulah at arm's
length.
"You let go Lilly : you hateful, ugly, old thing you 1 She
shan't go if she don't want to 1 She does belong to Beulah,"
cried Claudia, striding up and laying her hand on Lilly's arm.
" You spoiled, insolent little wretch 1" muttered Miss White,
crimsoning to the roots of her fiery hair.
" I am afraid they will not consent to go. Fanny, suppose
you take Claudia ; the other seems too reluctant," said Mr. Gray-
son, looking at his watch.
" But I do so want that little blue-eyed angel. Cannot the
matron influence her ?" She turned to her as she spoke. Thus
appealed to, Mrs. Williams took the child in her arms, and
caressed her tenderly.
" My dear little Lilly, you must not cry and struggle so.
Why will you not go with this kind lady ? she will love you
very much."
" Oh, I don't want to I" sobbed she, pressing her wet cheeks
against the matron's shoulder.
" But, Lilly love, you shall have everything you want. Kiss
me like a sweet girl, and say you will go to my beautiful home.
I will give you a cage full of the prettiest canary birds you ever
looked at. Don't you love to ride ? My carriage is waiting at
the door. You and Claudia will have such a nice time." Mrs.
Grayson knelt beside her, and kissed her tenderly ; still she
clung closer to the matron.
24 BEULAH.
Beulah bad covered her face with her hands, arid stood
trembling like a weed bowed before the rushing gale. She
knew that neither expostulation nor entreaty would avail now,
and she resolved to bear with fortitude, what she could not
avert. Lifting her head, she said slowly :
" If I must give up my sister, let me do so as quietly as pos-
sible. Give her to me, then perhaps she will go more willingly.
Do not force her away ! Oh, do not force her 1"
As she uttered these words, her lips were white and cold,
and the agonized expression of her face made Mrs. Gray son
shiver.
" Lilly, my darling ! My own precious darling !" she bent
over her sister, and the little arms clasped her neck tightly, as
she lifted and bore her back to the dormitory.
"You may get their clothes ready, Mrs. Williams. Rest
assured, my dear Mrs. Grayson, they will go now without any
further difficulty. Of course we dislike to separate sisters, but
it can't be helped sometimes. If you like, I will show you over
the Asylum while the children are prepared." Miss White led
the way to the schoolroom.
" I am very dubious about that little one ; Fanny, how will
you ever manage two such dispositions, one all tears, and the
other all fire and tow ?" said Mr. Grayson.
" A truce to your fears, Alfred. We shall get on charmingly
after the first few days. How proud I shall be with such
jewels."
Beulah sat down on the edge of the blue-curtained bed, and
drew her idol close to her heart. She kissed the beautiful face,
and smoothed the golden curls she had so long, and so lovingly
arranged, and as the child returned her kisses, she felt as if rude
hands were tearing her heart-strings loose. But she knew she
must give her up. There was no effort within her power, whicl-
could avail to keep her treasure, and that brave spirit nerved
itself. Not a tear dimmed her eye, not a sob broke from her
colorless lips.
BEULAH. 25
" Lilly, my own little sister, you must not cry any more. Let
me wash your face ; you will make your head ache if you cry
so."
" Oh, Beulah ! I don't want to go away from you."
" My darling, I know you don't ; but you will have a great
many things to make you happy, and I shall come to see you as
often as I can. I can't bear to have you go, either, but I
cannot help it, and I want you to go quietly, and be so good
that the lady will love you."
" But to-night, when I go to bed, you will not be there to
hear me say my prayers. Oh, sister ! why can't you go ?"
" They do not want me, my dear Lilly, but you can kneel
down and say your prayers, arid God will hear you just as well
as if you were here with me, and I will ask Him to love you all
the more, and take care of you "
Here a little arm stole sound poor Beulah's neck, and
Claudia whispered with a sob :
" Will you ask Him to love me too ?"
" Yes, Claudy, I will."
" We will try to be good. Oh, Beulah I love you so much.
so very much !" The affectionate child pressed her lips
repeatedly to Beulah's bloodless cheek.
" Claudy, if you love me, you must be kind to my little Lilly
When you see that she is sad, and crying for me, you must
coax her to be as contented as possible, and always speak gently
to her. Will you do this for Beulah ?"
" Yes, that I will 1 I promise you I will, and what is more,
I will fight for her 1 I boxed that spiteful Charley's ears the
other day, for vexing her, and I will scratch anybody's eyes out
that dares to scold her. This very morning I pinched Maggie
black and blue, for bothering her, and I tell you I shall not let
anybody impose on her." The tears dried in her brilliant eyes,
and she clinched her little fist with an exalted opinion of her
protective powers.
" Claudy, I do not ask you to fight for her ; I want you. to
2
26 BEULAH.
love her. Oh, love her ! always be kind to her," murmured
Beulah.
" I do love her better than anything in the world, don't I
Lilly dear I" she softly kissed one of the child's hands.
At this moment the matron entered, with a large bundle
neatly wrapped. Her eyes were red, and there were traces of
tears on her cheek ; looking tenderly down upon the trio, she
said very gently :
" Come, my pets, they will not wait any longer for you. I
hope you will try to be good, and love each other, and Beulah
shall come to see you." She took Claudia's hand and led her
down the steps. Beulah lifted her sister, and carried her in her
arms, as she had done from her birth, and at every step kissed
her lips and brow.
Mr. and Mrs. Grayson were standing at the front door ; they
oth looked pleased, as Lilly had^eased crying, and the carriage
loor was opened to admit them.
"Ah I my dears, now for a nice ride; Claudia, jump in,"
<*aid Mr. Grayson, extending his hand to assist her. She
paused, kissed her kind matron, and then approached Beulah.
She could not bear to leave her, and as she threw her arms
around her, sobbed out :
" Good bye dear, good Beulah. I will take care of Lilly.
Please love me, and ask God for me too." She was lifted into
the carriage with tears streaming over her face.
Beulah drew near to Mrs. Grayson, and said in a low, but
imploring tone :
" Oh, madam, love my sister, and always speak affectionately
to her, then she will be good and obedient. I may come to see
her often, may I not ?"
" Certainly," replied the lady, in a tone which chilled poor
Beulah's heart. She swallowed a groan of agony, and straining
the loved one to her bosom, pressed her lips to Lilly's.
" God bless my little sister, my darling, my all !" She put the
child in Mr. Grayson's extended arms, and only saw that her
B E U L A H . 27
sister looked back appealingly to her. Miss White came up and
said something which she did not hear, and, turning hastily away,
she went up to the dormitory, and seated herself on Lilly's vacant
bed. The child knew not how the hours passed ; she sat with
her face buried in her hands, until the light of a candle flashed
into the darkened chamber, and the kind voice of the matron
fell on her ear.
" Beulah, will you try to eat some supper ? Do, dear."
" No, thank you, I don't want anything."
" Poor child, I would have saved you all this had it been in
my power ; but, when once decided by the managers, you know I
could not interfere. They disliked to separate you and Lilly,
but thought, that under the circumstances, it was the best
arrangement they could make. Beulah, I want to tell you some-
thing, if you will listen to me." She seated herself on the edge
of the bed, and took one of the girl's hands between both hers.
" The managers think it is best that you should go out and
take a situation. I am sorry I am forced to give you up, very
sorry, for you have always been a good girl, and I love you
dearly ; but these things cannot be avoided, and I hope all will
turn out for the best. There is a place engaged for you, and
Miss White wishes you to go to-morrow. I trust you will not
have a hard time. You are to take care of an infant, and they
will give you six dollars a month besides your board and clothes.
Try to do your duty, child, and perhaps something may happen
which will enable you to turn teacher."
" Well, I will do the best I can. I do nob mind work, but
then Lilly " Her head went down on her arms once more.
11 Yes, dear, I know it is very hard for you to part with her ;
but remember, it is for her good. Mr. Grayson is very wealthy,
and of course Lilly and Claudy will have "
" And what is money to my " Again she paused abruptly.
" Ah, child, you do not begin to know 1 Money is everything
in this world to some people, and more than the next to other
poor souls Well, well, I hope it will prove for the best as far
28 BETJLAH.
as you are concerned. It is early yet, but maybe you had better
go'to bed, as you are obliged to leave in the morning."
" I could not sleep."
" God will help you, dear child, if you try to do your duty.
All of us have sorrows, and if yours have begun early, they may
not last long. Poor little thing, I shall always remember you in
my prayers." She kissed her gently, and left her, hoping that
solitude would soothe her spirits. Miss White's words rang in
the girl's ears like a kiiell. " She will soon be perfectly satisfied
away from you."
11 Would she ? Could that idolized sister learn to do without
her, and love her new friends as fondly as the untiring one who
had cradled her in her arms for six long years ? A foreboding
dread hissed continually, "do you suppose the wealthy and
fashionable Mrs. Grayson, who lives in that elegant house on
street, will suffer her adopted daughter to associate inti-
mately with a hired nurse ?"
Again the light streamed into the room. She buried her face
deeper in her apron.
" Beulah," said a troubled, anxious voice.
"Oh, Eugene !" She sprang up with a dry sob, and threw
herself into his arms.
" I know it all, dear Beulah ; but come down to Mrs. Williams'
room, there is a bright fire there, and your hands are as cold as
ice. You will make yourself sick sitting here without even a
shawl around you." He led her down-stairs to the room occu-
pied by the matron, who kindly took her work to the dining-
room, and left them to talk unrestrainedly.
" Sit down in this rocking-chaj| and warm your hands."
He seated himself near her, and as the firelight glowed on the
faces of both, they contrasted strangely. One was classical and
full of youthful beauty, the other wan, haggard, and sorrow-
stained. He looked about sixteen, and promised to become a
strikingly handsome man, while the proportions of his polished
brow indicated more than ordinary intellectual endowments. He
B E U L A II . 29
watched his companion earnestly, sadly, and, leaning forward,
took one of her hands.
" Beulah, I see from your face that you have not shed a single
tear. I wish you would not keep your sorrow so pent up in your
heart. It grieves me to see you look as you do now."
" Oh I I can't help it. If it were not for you I believe I
should die, I am so very miserable. Eugene, if you could have
seen our Lilly cling to me, even to the last moment. It seems to me
my heart will break." She sank her weary head on his shoulder.
" Yes, darling, I know you are suffering very much ; but
'emember that ' all things work together for good to them that
'ove God.' Perhaps he sees it is best that you should give her
np for awhile, and if so, will you not try to bear it cheerfully,
instead of making yourself sick with useless grief ?" He gently
smoothed the hair from her brow as he spoke. She did not
reply. He did not expect that she would, and continued in the
same kind tone.
" I am much more troubled about your taking this situation.
If I had known it earlier I would have endeavored to prevent it,
but I suppose it cannot be helped now, for awhile at least. As
soon as possible I am determined you shall go to school ; and
remember, dear Beulah, I am just as much grieved at your sor-
rows as you are. In a few years I shall have a home of my own,
and you shall be the first to come to it. Never mind these dark,
stormy days. Do you remember what our minister said in his
sermon last Sunday ? ' the darkest hour is just before daybreak.'
Already I begin to see the ' silver lining ' of clouds that a few
years, or even months ago, seemed heavy and cheerless. I have
heard a great deal about the ills and trials of this world, but I
think a brave, hopeful spirit, will do much toward remedying
the evil. For my part, I look forward to the time when you and
I shall have a home of our own, and then Lilly and Claudy can
be with us. I was talking to Mrs. Mason about it yesterday ;
she loves you very much. I dare say all will be right, so cheer
up, Beulah, and do look on the bright side."
30 BEULAH.
" Eugene, you are the only bright side I have to look on.
Sometimes I think you will get tired of me, and if you ever do,
I shall want to die. Oh, how could I bear to know you did not
love me." She raised her head and looked earnestly at his noble
face.
Eugene laughingly repeated her words.
" Get tired of you, indeed not I, little sister."
"Oh, I forgot to thank you for your book : I like it better
than anything I ever read ; some parts are so beautiful so very
grand. I keep it in my basket, and read every moment I can
spare."
" I knew you would like it, particularly ' Excelsior.' Beulah,
I have written excelsior on my banner, and I intend, like that
noble youth, to press forward over every obstacle, mounting at
every step, until I, too, stand on the highest pinnacle, and plant
my banner where its glorious motto shall float over the world.
That poem stirs my very soul like martial music, and I feel as
if I should like to see Mr. Longfellow, to tell him how I thank
him for having written it. I want you to mark the passages
you like best ; and now I think of it, here is a pencil I cut for
you to-day."
He drew it from his pocket and put it into her hand, while
his face glowed with enthusiasm.
" Thank you, thank you." Grateful tears sprang to her eyes;
tears which acute suffering could not wring from her. He saw
the gathering drops, and said, gaily :
" If that is the way you intend to thank me, I shall bring you
no more pencils. But you look very pale, and ought to be asleep,
for I have no doubt to-morrow will be a trying day for you. Do
exert yourself to be brave, and bear it all for a little while ; I
know it will not be very long, and I shall come and see you just
as often as possible."
He rose as he spoke.
11 Are you obliged to go so soon ? Can't you stay with me a
little longer ?" pleaded Beulah.
BE TIL An. 31
The boy's eyes filled as he looked at the beseeching, haggard
face, and he answered hastily :
" Not to-night, Beulah ; you must go to sleep you need it
sadly."
"You will be cold walking home. Let me get you a shawl."
" No, I left my overcoat in the hall here it is."
She followed him out to the door, as he drew it on and put on
his cap. The moonlight shone over the threshold, and he thought
she looked ghostly as it fell upon her face. He took her hand,
pressed it gently, and said
" Good night, dear Beulah."
" Good bye, Eugene. Do come and see me again soon."
" Yes, I will. Don't get low-spirited as soon as I am out of
sight, do you hear ?"
"Yes, I hear, I will try not to complain. Walk fast and
keep warm."
She pressed his hand affectionately, watched his receding form
as long as she could trace its outline, and then went slowly back
to the dormitory. Falling on her knees by the side of Lilly's
empty couch, she besought God, in trembling accents, to bless
her " darling little sister and Claudy," and to give her strength
to perform all her duties contentedly and cheerfully.
CHAPTER III.
BEULAH stood waiting on the steps of the large mansion, to
which she had been directed by Miss Dorothea White. Her
heart throbbed painfully, and her hand trembled as she rang the
bell. The door was opened by a negro waiter, who merely
glanced at her, and asked, carelessly
32 BETJLAH.
" Well, little miss, what do you want ?"
" Is Mrs. Martin at home ?"
" Yes, miss ; come, walk in. There is but a poor fire in the
front parlor suppose you sit down in the back room. Mrs.
Martin will be down in a minute."
The first object which arrested Beulalfs attention was a cen-
tre table covered with books. " Perhaps," thought she, " they
will permit me to read some of them." While she sat looking
over the titles, the rustle of silk caused her to glance around,
and she saw Mrs. Martin quite near her.
" Good morning," said the lady, with a searching look, which
made the little figure tremble.
" Good morning, madam."
" You are the girl Miss White promised to send from the
Asylum, are you not ?"
"Yes, madam."
" Do you think you can take good care of my baby ?"
" Oh, I will try."
" You don't look strong and healthy have you been sick ?"
" No, I am very well, thank you."
" I may want you to sew some, occasionally, when the baby is
asleep. Can you hem and stitch neatly ?"
" I believe I sew very well, madam our matron says so."
" What is your name ? Miss White told me, but I have for-
gotten it."
" Beulah Benton."
" Well, Beulah, I think you will suit me very well, if you are
only careful, and attend to my directions. I am just going out
shopping, but you can come up-stairs and take charge of Johnny.
Where are your clothes !"
"Our matron will send them to-day."
Beulah followed Mrs. Martin up the steps, somewhat reassured
by her kind reception. The room was in utter confusion, the
toilet-table covered with powder, hairpins, bows of different
colored ribbon, and various bits of jewelry; the hearth unswept,
B E U L A H . 33
the work-stand groaning beneath the superincumbent mass of
sewing, finished and unfinished garments, working materials,
and, to crown the whole, the lady's winter hat. A girl, appa-
rently about thirteen years of age, was seated by the fire, busily
embroidering a lamp-mat ; another, some six years younger,
was dressing a doll ; while an infant, five or six months old,
crawled about the carpet, eagerly picking up pins, needles,
and every other objectionable article his little purple fingers
could grasp.
" Take him, Beulah," said the mother,
She stooped to comply, and was surprised that the little fel-
low testified no fear of her. She raised him in her arms, and
kissed his rosy cheeks, as he looked wonderingly at her.
" 'Ma, is that Johnny's new nurse ? What is her name ?"
said the youngest girl, laying down her doll and carefully survey-
ing the stranger.
" Yes, Annie ; and her name is Beulah," replied the mother,
adjusting her bonnet.
" Beulah it's about as pretty as her face. Yes, just about,"
continued Annie, in an audible whisper to her sister. The latter
gave Beulah a condescending sta're, curled her lips disdainfully,
and with a polite " Mind your own business, Annie," returned to
her embroidery.
"Keep the baby by the fire ; and if he frets, you must feed
him. Laura, show her where to find his cup of arrowroot, and
you and Annie stay here, till I come home."
" No, indeed, 'ma, I can't, for I must go down, and practice
my music lesson," answered the eldest daughter, decisively.
" Well, then, Annie, stay in my room."
" I am going to make some sugar-candy 'ma. She" (pointing
to Beulah) "can take care of Johnny. I thought that was
what you hired her for."
"You will make no sugar-candy till I come home, Miss Annie;
do you hear that ? Now, mind what I said to you."
Mrs. Martin rustled out of the room, leaving Annie to scowl
34: BEULAH
ominously at the new nurse, and vent her spleen by boxing her
doll, because the inanimate little lady would not keep her blue-
bead eyes open. Beulah loved children, and Johnny forcibly
reminded her of earlier days, when she had carried Lilly about
in her arms. For some time after the departure of Mrs. Martin
and Laura, the little fellow seemed perfectly satisfied, but finally
grew fretful, and Beulah surmised he might be hungry.
" Will you please give me the baby's arrowroot ?"
" I don't know anything about it ; ask Harrison."
" Who is Harrison ?"
" Why, the cook."
Glancing around the room, she found the arrowroot ; the boy
was fed, and soon fell asleep. Beulah sat in a low rocking-chair,
by the hearth, holding the infant, and watching the little figure
opposite. Annie was trying to fit a new silk waist to her doll,
but it was too broad one way and too narrow another. She
twisted and jerked it divers ways, but all in vain ; and at last,
disgusted by the experiment, she tore it off and aimed it at the
fire, with an impatient cry.
" The plagued, bothering, ugly thing ! My Lucia never shall
wear such a fit."
Beulah caught the discarded waist, and said, quietly :
" You can very easily make it fit, by taking up this seam and
cutting it out in the neck."
" I don't believe it."
" Then, hand me the doll and the scissors and I will show
you."
" Her name is Miss Lucia-di-Lammermoor. Mr. Green
named her; don't say 'doll,' call her by her proper name,"
answered the spoiled child, handing over the unfortunate waxen
representative of a not less unfortunate heroine.
" Well, then, Miss Lucia-di-Lammermoor," said Beulah, smil-
ing A few alterations reduced the dress to proper dimensions,
and Annie arrayed her favorite in it, with no slight degree of
satisfaction. The obliging manner of the new nurse won her
BEULAH. 35
heart, and she began to chat pleasantly enough. About two
o'clock Mrs. Martin returned, inquired after Johnny, and again
absented herself to " see about dinner." Beulah was very weary
of the close, disordered room, and as the babe amused himself
with his ivory rattle, she swept the floor, dusted the furniture,
and arranged the chairs. The loud ringing of a bell startled
her, and she conjectured dinner was ready. Some time elapsed
before any of the family returned, and then Laura entered, look-
ing very sullen. She took charge of the babe, and rather
ungraciously desired the nurse to get her dinner.
" 1 do not wish any," answered Beulah.
At this stage of the conversation the door opened, and a boy,
seemingly about Eugene's age, entered the room. He looked
curiously at Beulah, inclined his head slightly, and joined his
sister at the fire.
" How do you like her, Laura ?" he asked, in a distinct under
tone.
" Oh ! I suppose she will do well enough ; but she is horridly
ugly," replied Laura, in a similar key.
" I don't know, sis. It is what Dr. Patton, the lecturer on
physiognomy, would call a ' striking ' face."
" Yes, strikingly ugly, Dick. Her forehead juts over, like the
eaves of the kitchen, and her eyebrows "
" Hush ! she will hear you. Come down and play that new
waltz for me, like a good sister." The two left the room.
Beulah had heard every word; she could not avoid it, and as
she recalled Mrs. Grayson's remark concerning her appearance
on the previous day, her countenance reflected her intense morti-
fication. She pressed her face against the window-pane and
stared vacantly out. The elevated position commanded a fine
view of the town, and on the eastern horizon the blue waters of
the harbor glittered with " silvery sheen." At any other timc i
and with different emotions, Beulah's love of the beautiful would
have been particularly gratified by this extended prospect ; but
'<nw the whole possessed no charms for her darkened spirit. For
36 BEULAH.
the moment, earth was black-hued to her gaze ; she only saw
" horribly ugly," inscribed on sky and water. Her soul seemed
to leap forward and view nearer the myriad motes that floated
in the haze of the future. She leaned over the vast whirring
lottery wheel of life, and saw a blank come up, with her name
stamped upon it. But the grim smile faded from her lips, and
brave endurance looked out from the large sad eyes, as she
murmured,
" Be not like dumb, driven cattle ;
Be a hero in the strife."
"If I am ugly, God made me so, and I know ' He doeth all
things well.' I will not let it bother me; I will try not to think
of it. But, oh ! I am so glad, I thank God, that he made my
Lilly beautiful. She will never have to suffer, as I do now.
My own darling Lilly !" Large drops glistened in her eyes ; she
rarely wept ; but though the tears did not fall, they gathered
often in the grey depths. The evening passed very quietly; Mr.
Martin was absent in a distant State, whither, as travelling
agent for a mercantile house, he was often called. After tea,
when little Johnny had been put to sleep in his crib, Mrs. Martin
directed Annie to show the nurse her own room. Taking a
candle, the child complied, and her mother ordered one of the
servants to carry up the trunk containing Beulah's clothes. Up,
up, two weary, winding flights of steps, the little Annie toiled,
and pausing at the landing of the second, pointed to a low attic
chamber, lighted by dormer windows on the east and west.
The floor was uncovered; the furniture consisted of a narrow
trundle-bed, wash-stand, a cracked looking-glass suspended from
a nail, a small deal table, and a couple of chairs. There were,
also, some hooks driven into the wall, to hang clothes upon.
" You need not be afraid to sleep here, because the boarders
occupy the rooms on the floor below this; and besides, you know
robbers never get up to the garret," said Annie, glancing around
the apartment, and shivering with an undefined dread, rather
B E U L A II . 3Y
than with cold, though her nose and fingers were purple, and
this garret-chamber possessed neither stove nor chimney.
" I am not afraid ; but this is only one garret-room, are the
others occupied ?"
" Yes, by carpets in summer, and rats in winter," laughed
Annie.
" I suppose I may have a candle ?" said Beulah, as the porter
deposited her trunk and withdrew.
" Yes, this one is for you. Ma is always uneasy about fire,
so don't set anything in a blaze to keep yourself warm. Here,
hold the light at the top of the steps till I get down to the next
floor, then there is a hall-lamp. Good night."
" Good night." Beulah bolted the door, and surveyed her
new apartment. Certainly it was sufficiently cheerless, but its
isolated position presented to her a redeeming feature. Thought
she, " I can sit up here, and read just as late as I please. Oh !
I .shall have so much time to myself these long, long nights."
Unpacking her trunk, she hung her dresses on the hooks, placed
the books Mrs. Mason and Eugene had given her on the table,
and setting the candle beside them, smiled in anticipation of the
many treats in store for her. She read several chapters in her
Bible, and then, as her head ached and her eyes grew heavy,
she sank upon her knees. Ah ! what an earnest, touching peti-
tion ascended to the throne of the Father ; prayers, first for
Lilly and Claudia, and lastly for herself.
" Help me, oh Lord ! not to be troubled and angry when I
hear that I am so ugly; and make me remember that I am your
child." Such was her final request, and she soon slept soundly,
regardless of the fact that she was now thrown upon the wide,
though not altogether cold or unloving world.
38 BEULAH
CHAPTER IV.
DAY after day passed monotonously, and except a visit from
Eugene, there was no link added to the chain which bound Beu-
lah to the past. That brief visit encouraged and cheered the
lonely heart, yearning for affectionate sympathy, yet striving to
hush the hungry cry and grow contented with its lot. During
the second week of her stay, little Johnny was taken sick, and
he had become so fond of his new attendant, that no one else
was permitted to hold him. Often she paced the chamber floor
for hours, lulling the fretful babe with softly sung tunes of other
days, and the close observer, who could have peered at such
times into the down-cast eyes, might have easily traced in the
misty depths memories that nestled in her heart's sanctuary.
The infant soon recovered, and one warm, sn.nny afternoon,
when Mrs. Martin directed Beulah to draw him in his wicker
carriage up and down the pavement before the door, she could
no longer repress the request, which had trembled on her lips
more than once, and asked permission to take her little charge
to Mrs. Grayson's. A rather reluctant assent was given, and
soon the carriage was drawn in the direction of Mr. Grayson's
elegant city residence. A marvellous change came over the wan
face of the nurse as she paused at the marble steps, guarded on
either side by sculptured lions. " To see Lilly :" the blood
sprang to her cheeks, and an eager look of delight crept into
the eyes. The door was partially opened by an insolent-looking
footman, whose hasty glance led him to suppose her one of the
numerous supplicants for charity, who generally left that princely
mansion as empty-handed as they came. He was about to close
the door; but undaunted by this reception, she hastily asked to
see Mrs. Grayson, and Lillian Benton.
" Mrs. Grayson is engaged, and there is no such person here
B E U L A H . 39
as Lillian Benton. Miss Lilly Grayson is my young mistress'
name ; but I can tell you, her mamma don't suffer her to see the
like of you ; so be off."
" Lilly is my sister, and I must see her. Tell Mrs. Grayson
Beulah Benton wishes to see her sister ; and ask her also if
Claudia may not see me,"
She dropped the tongue of the carriage, and the thin hands
clutched each other in an agony of dread, lest her petition
should be refused. The succeeding five minutes seemed an
eternity to her, and as the door opened again, she leaned
forward, and held her breath, like one whose fate was in the
balance. Costly silk and dazzling diamonds met her gaze
The settled lines of Mrs. Grayson's pretty mouth indicated that
she had a disagreeable duty to perform, yet had resolved to do
it at once, and set the matter forever at rest.
" You are Mrs. Martin's nurse I believe, and the girl I saw at
the asylum ?" said she, frigidly.
" Yes, madam, I am Lilly's sister ; you said I might come and
see her. Oh, if you only knew how miserable I have been
since we were parted, you would not look so coldly at mel Do,
please, let me see her. Oh, don't deny me."
These words were uttered in a tone of imploring agony.
" I am very sorry you happen to be her sister, and I assure
you, child, it pains me to refuse you ; but when you remember
the circumstances, you ought not to expect to associate with her
as you used to do. She will be educated to move in a circle very
far above you, and you ought to be more than willing to give her
up, when you know how lucky she has been in securing a home
of wealth. Besides, she is getting over the separation very
nicely indeed, and if she were to see you even once, it would make
matters almost as bad as ever. I daresay you are a good girl,
and will not trouble me any further. My husband and I are
unwilling that you should see Lilly again ; and though I am
very sorry I am forced to disappoint you, I feel that I am doing
right."
40 B E U L A H .
The petitioner fell on her knees, and extending her arms, said
huskily :
" Oh, madam ! are we to be parted forever ? I pray you, in
the name of God, let me see her 1 let me see her !"
Mrs. Grayson was not a cruel woman, far from it, but she was
strangely weak and worldly. The idea of a hired nurse associ-
ating familiarly with her adopted daughter was repulsive to her
aristocratic pride, and therefore she hushed the tones of true
womanly sympathy, and answered resolutely :
" It pains me to refuse you ; but I have given good reasons,
and cannot think of changing my determination. I hope you
will not annoy me by any future efforts to enter my house. There
is a present for you. Good evening."
She tossed a five-dollar gold piece toward the kneeling figure,
and closing the door, locked it on the inside. The money rolled
ringingly down the steps, and the grating sound of the key, as it
was hurriedly turned, seemed typical of the unyielding lock which
now forever barred the child's hopes. The look of utter despair
gave place to an expression of indescribable bitterness. Springing
from her suppliant posture, she muttered with terrible emphasis :
" A curse on that woman and her husband ! May God answer
their prayers as she has answered mine !"
Picking up the coin which lay glittering on the side-walk, she
threw it forcibly against the door, and as it rebounded into the
street, took the carriage tongue, and slowly retraced her steps.
It was not surprising that passers-by gazed curiously at the stony
face, with its large eyes, brimful of burning hate, as the injured
orphan walked mechanically on, unconscious that her lips were
crushed till purple drops oozed over them. The setting sun
flashed his ruddy beams caressingly over her brow, and whisper-
ing winds lifted tenderly the clustering folds of jetty hair ; but
nature's pure-hearted darling had stood over the noxious tarn,
whence the poisonous breath of a corrupt humanity rolled up-
ward, and the once sinless child inhaled the vapor until her soul
was a great boiling Marah. Ah, truly
U E U L A H . 41
" There are swift hours ii life strong, rushing hours
That do the work of tempests in their might!"
Peaceful valleys, green and flowery, sleeping in loveliness,
have been upheaved, and piled in sombre, jagged masses, against
the sky, by the fingering of an earthquake ; and gentle, loving,
trusting hearts, over whose altars brooded the white-winged
messengers of God's peace, have been as suddenly transformed
by a manifestation of selfishness and injustice, into gloomy haunts
of misanthropy. Had Mrs. Grayson been arraigned for cruelty,
or hard-heartedness, before a tribunal of her equals (i. e. fashion-
able friends), the charge would have been scornfully repelled,
and unanimous would have been her acquittal. " Hard-hearted!
oh no, she was only prudent and wise." Who could expect her
to suffer her pampered, inert darling to meet and acknow
ledge as an equal, the far-lcss-daintily-fed and elegantly clad
sister, whom God called to labor for her frugal meals ? Ah, this
fine-ladyism, this ignoring of labor, to which, in accordance with
the divine decree, all should be subjected ; this false-effeminacy,
and miserable affectation of refinement, which characterizes the
age, is the unyielding lock on the wheels of social reform and
advancement.
Beulah took her charge home, and when dusk came on, rocked
him to sleep, and snugly folded the covering of his crib over the
little throbbing heart, whose hours of trial were yet veiled by the
impenetrable curtain of futurity. Mrs. Martin and her elder
children had gone to a concert, and, of course, the nurse was to
remain with Johnny until his mother's return. Standing beside
the. crib, and gazing down at the rosy cheeks and curling locks,
nestled against the pillow, Beulah's thoughts winged along the
tear-stained past, to the hour when Lilly had been placed in her
arms, by emaciated hands stiffening in death. For six years she
had held, and hushed, and caressed her dying father's last charge,
and now strange ruthless fingers had torn the clinging heart-
strings from the idol. There were 10 sobs, nor groans, to voice
42 B E r L A H .
the anguish of the desolate orphan. The glittering eyes were tear-
los, but the brow was darkly furrowed, the ashy lips writhed,
aud the folded hands were purple from compression. Turning
from the crib, she threw up the sash, and seated herself on ihe
window-sill. Below lay the city, with its countless lamps gleam-
ing in every direction, and stretching away on the principal
streets, like long processions ; in the distance the dark waters of
the river, over which steamboat-lights flashed now and then like
ignes-fatui ; and above her arched the dome of sky, with its fiery
fret-work. Never before had she looked up at the starry groups,
without an emotion of exulting joy, of awful adoration. To her
worshipping gaze they had seemed glimpses of the spirit's home:
nay, loving eyes shining down upon her thorny pathway. But
now, the twinkling rays fell unheeded, impotent to pierce the
sable clouds of grief. She sat looking out into the night, with
strained eyes that seemed fastened upon a corpse. An hour
passed thus, and as the clang of the town clock died away, the
shrill voice of the watchman rang through the air :
" Nine o'clock ; and all's well 1"
Beulah lifted her head and listened. " ALL'S WELL !" The
mockery maddened her, and she muttered audibly :
" That is the sort of sympathy I shall have through life. I am
to hear that 'all is well ' when my heart is dying, nay, dead within
me ! Oh, if I could only die I What a calm, calm time I should
have in my coffin 1 Nobody to taunt me with my poverty and
ugliness 1 Oh, what did God make me for ? The few years of
my life have been full of misery ; I cannot remember one single
day of pure happiness, for there was always something to spoil
what little joy I ever knew. When I was born, why did not I
die at once ? And why did not God take me instead of my dear,
dear father ? He should have been left with Lilly, for people
love the beautiful, but nobody will ever care for me. I am of no
use to anything, and so ugly, that I hate myself. 0, Lord, I
don't want to live another day 1 I am sick of my life take me,
take me !" But a feeble ray of comfort stole into her shivering
B E U L A H . 43
heart, as she bowed her head upon her hands ; Eugene Graham
loved her : and the bleeding tendrils of affection henceforth
clasped him as their only support. She was aroused from her
painful reverie by a movement in the crib, and, hastening to her
charge, was startled by the appearance of the babe. The soft
blue eyes were rolled up and set, the face of a purplish hue, and
the delicate limbs convulsed. During her residence at the Asylum
she had more than once assisted the matron in nursing children
similarly affected ; and now, calling instantly for a tub of water,
she soon immersed the rigid limbs in a warm bath, while one of the
waiters was dispatched for the family physician. When Dr.
Hartweli entered, he found her standing, with the infant clasped
tightly in her arms, and as his eyes rested curiously upon her
face, she forgot that he was a stranger, and springing to meet
him, exclaimed :
" Oh, sir, will he die P
With his fingers on the bounding pulse, he answered:
" He is very ill. Where is his mother ? Who are you P
11 His mother is at a concert, and I am his nurse."
The spasms had ceased, but the twitching limbs told that they
might return any moment, and the physician immediately ad-
ministered a potion.
" How long will Mrs. Martin be absent P
" It is uncertain. When shall I give the medicine again P
"I shall remain until she comes home."
Beulali was pacing up and down the floor, with Johnny in her
arms; Dr. Hartweli stood on the hearth, leaning his elbow on
the mantelpiece, and watching the slight form as it stole softly
to anr! f ro. Gradually the child became quiet, but his nurse
kept up iier wanx Dr. Hartweli said abruptly:
" Sit down, girl! you will walk yourself into a shadow."
She lifted her head, shook it in reply, and resumed her mea-
sured tread.
" What is your name?"
"BeulahBenton."
44 BEULAH.
"Beulah!" repeated the doctor, while a smile flitted over his
mustached lip. She observed it, and exclaimed, with bitter
emphasis:
"You need not tell me it is unsuitable; I know it; I feel it.
Beulah! Beulah! Oh, my father! I have neither sunshine nor
flowers, nor hear the singing of birds, nor the voice of the turtle.
You ought to have called me MARAH."
" You have read the ' Pilgrim's Progress ' then ?" said he,
with a searching glance.
Either she did not hear him, or was too entirely engrossed by
painful reflection to frame an answer. The despairing expression
settled upon her face, and the broken threads of memory wove
on again.
" Beulah ! how came you here in the capacity of nurse ?"
" I was driven here by necessity."
" Where are your parents and friends ?"
" I have none. I am alone in the world."
" How long have you been so dependent ?"
She raised her hand deprecatingly, nay commandingly, as
though she had said:
" No more. You have not the right to question, nor I the
will to answer."
He marked the look of unconquerable grief, and understand
ing her gesture, made no more inquiries.
Soon after, Mrs. Martin returned, and having briefly stated
what had occurred, and given directions for the child's treat-
ment, he withdrew. His low " good night," gently spoken to the
nurse, was only acknowledged by a slight inclination of i o head,
as he passed her. Little Johnny was restless, and constantly
threatened with a return of the convulsions. His mother held him
on her knee, and telling Beulah she " had been a good, sensible
girl, to bathe him so promptly," gave her permission to retire.
" I am not at all sleepy, and would rather stay here, and
nurse him. He does not moan so much when I walk with him.
Give him back to me."
BEULAH. 45
" But you will be tired out."
" I shall not mind it." Stooping down, she lifted the restless
boy, and wrapping his cloak about him, commenced the same
noiseless tread. Thus the night waned; occasionally Mrs. Mar-
tin rose and felt her babe's pulse, and assisted in giving the
hourly potions, then reseated herself, and allowed the hireling
to walk on. Once she offered to relieve her, but the arms
refused to yield their burden. A little after four, the mother
slept soundly in her chair. Gradually the stars grew dim, and
the long, undulating chain of clouds that girded the eastern
horizon kindled into a pale orange, that transformed them into
mountains of topaz. Pausing by the window, and gazing
vacantly out, Beulah's eyes were suddenly riveted on the gor-
geous pageant, which untiring nature daily renews, -and she
stood watching the masses of vapor painted by coming sunlight,
and floating slowly before the wind, until the "King of Day"
flashed up and dazzled her. Mrs. Martin was awakened by the
entrance of one of the servants, and starting up, exclaimed:
"Bless me! I have been asleep. Beulah, how is Johnny?
You must be tired to death."
"He is sleeping now very quietly; I think he is better; his
fever is not so high. I will take care of him, and you had
better take another nap before breakfast."
Mrs. Martin obeyed the nurse's injunction, and it was two
hours later when she took her child, and directed Beulah to get
her breakfast. But the weary girl felt no desire for the meal,
and retiring to her attic room, bathed her eyes, and replaited
her hair. Kneeling beside her bed, she tried to pray, but the
.words died on her lips; and too miserable to frame a petition,
she returned to the chamber where, in sad vigils, she had spent
the night. Dr. Hartwell bowed as she entered, but the head
was bent down, and without glancing at him, she took the fret-
ful, suffering child, and walked to the window. While she
stood there, her eyes fell upon the loved face of her best friend.
Eugene Graham ^as crossing the street. For an instant the
46 BEULAH.
burning blood surged over her wan, sickly cheeks, and the pale
lips parted in a smile of delight, as she leaned forward to see
whether he was coming in. The door bell rang, and she sprang
from the window, unconscious of the piercing eyes fastened upon
her. Hastily laying little Johnny on his mother's lap, she
merely said:
" I will be back soon," and, darting down the steps, met
Eugene at the entrance, throwing her arms around his neck and
hiding her face on his shoulder.
" What is the matter, Beulah ? Do tell me," said he, anx-
iously.
Briefly she related her fruitless attempt to see Lilly, and
pointed out the nature of the barrier which must forever sepa-
rate them. Eugene listened with flashing eyes, and several times
the word " brutal" escaped his lips. He endeavored to comfort
her by holding out hopes of brighter days, but her eyes were
fixed on shadows, and his cheering words failed to call up a
smile. They stood in the hall near the front door, and here Di\
Hartwell found them, when he left the sick-room. Eugene
looked up as he approached them, and stepped forward with a
smile of recognition to shake the extended hand. Beulah's coun-
tenance became instantly repellent, and she was turning away
when the doctor addressed her :
"You must feel very much fatigued from being up all
night. I know from your looks that you did not close your
eyes."
" I am no worse looking than usual, thank yon," she replied,
icily, drawing back as she spoke, behind Eugene. The doctor
left-them, and as his buggy rolled from the door, Beulah seemed
to breathe freely again. Poor child ; her sensitive nature had
so often been deeply wounded by the thoughtless remarks of
strangers, that she began to shrink from all observation, as the
surest mode of escaping pain. Eugene noticed her manner, and
biting his lips with vexation, said reprovingly :
" Beulah, you were very rnde to Dr. Hartwell. Politeness
BEULAH. 4:7
costs nothing, and you might at least have answered his question
with ordinary civility."
Her eyelids drooped, and a tremor passed over her mouth, as
she answered meekly:
" I did not intend to be rude ; but I dread to have people
look at, or speak to me."
" Why, pray ?"
" Because I am so ugly, and they are sure to show me that
they see it."
He drew his arm protectingly around her, and said gently :
" Poor child ; it is cruel to make you suffer so. But rest assured
Dr. Hartwell will never wound your feelings. I have heard that
he was a very stern and eccentric man, though a remarkably
learned one, yet I confess there is something in his manner which
fascinates me, and if you will only be like yourself he will always
speak kindly to you. But I am staying too Jong. Don't look
so forlorn and ghostly. Positively I hate to come to see you,
for somehow your wretched face haunts me. Here is a book I
have just finished ; perhaps it will serve to divert your mind."
He put a copy of "Irving's Sketch Book" in her hand, and
drew on his gloves.
" Oh, Eugene, can't you stay a little longer ; just a little
longer ? It seems such a great while since you were here."
She looked up wistfully into the handsome, boyish face.
Drawing out an elegant new watch, he held it before her eyes
and answered hurriedly:
" See there ; it is ten o'clock, and I am behind my appoint-
ment at the lecture-room. Good bye ; try to be cheerful. ' What
can't be cured must be endured/ you know, so do not despond,
dear Beulah." Shaking her hand cordially, he ran down the
steps. The orphan pressed her hands tightly over her brow, as
if to stay some sudden, painful thought, and slowly remounted
the stairs.
48 BEULAH.
CHAPTER V.
LITTLE Johnny's illness proved long and serious, and for many
days and nights he seemed on the verge of the tomb. His wail-
ings were never hushed except in Beulah's arms, and as might
be supposed, constant watching soon converted her into a mere
shadow of her former self. Dr. Hartwell often advised rest and
fresh air for her, but the silent shake of her head proved how
reckless she was of her own welfare. Thus several weeks
elapsed, and gradually the sick child grew stronger. One after-
noon Beulah sat holding him on her knee ; he had fallen asleep,
with one tiny hand clasping hers, and while he slept she read.
Absorbed in the volume Eugene had given her, her thoughts wan-
dered on with the author, amid the moldering monuments of
Westminster Abbey, and finally the sketch was concluded by
that solemn paragraph : " Thus man passes away ; his name
perishes from record and recollection ; his history is as a tale
that is told, and his very monument becomes a ruin." Again she
read this sad comment on the vanity of earth, and its ephemeral
hosts, and her mind was filled with weird images, that looked
out from her earnest eyes. Dr. Hartwell entered unperceived,
and stood for some moments at the back of her chair, glancing
over her shoulder at the last page. At length she closed the
book, and passing her hand wearily over her eyes, said
audibly:
" Ah ! if we could only have sat down together in that gloomy
garret, and had a long talk ! It would have helped us both.
Poor Chatterton ! I know just how you felt, when you locked
your door and lay down on your truckle-bed, and swallowed
your last draught 1"
" There is not a word about Chatterton in that sketch," said
the doctor.
B E U L A H . i9
She started, looked up, and answered slowly :
" No, not a word, not a word. He was buried among pau-
pers, you know."
" What made you think of him ?"
" I thought that instead of resting in the Abbey, under sculp-
tured marble, his bones were scattered, nobody knows where :
I often think of him."
Why r
" Because he was so miserable and uncared-for ; because
sometimes I feel exactly as he did." As she uttered these words,
she compressed her lips in a manner which plainly said, " There I
I have no more to say, so do not question me." .
He had learned to read her countenance, and as he felt the
infant's pulse, pointed to the crib, saying :
" You must lay him down now ; he seems fast asleep."
" No, I may as well hold him."
*' Girl, will you follow my directions ?" said he, sharply.
Beulah looked up at him for a moment, then rose and placed
the boy in his crib, while a sort of grim smile distorted her fea-
tures. The doctor mixed some medicine, and setting the glass
on the table, put both hands in his pockets and walked up to
the nurse. Her head was averted.
" Beulah, will you be good enough to look at me ?" She
fixed her eyes proudly on his, and her beautiful teeth gleamed
through the parted lips.
"Do you know that Eugene is going away very soon, to be
absent at least five years ?"
An incredulous smile flitted over her face, but the ashen hue
of death settled there.
" I am in earnest. He leaves for Europe next week, to be
gone a long time."
She extended her hands pleadingly, and said in a hoarse
whisper :
" Are you sure ?"
" Quite sure ; his passage is already engaged in a packet that
9
50 BEULAH.
will sail early next week. What will become of you in his
absence ?"
The strained eyes met his, vacantly ; the icy hands dropped,
and she fell forward against him.
Guy Hartwell placed the slight attenuated form on the sofa,
and stood with folded arms looking down at the colorless face.
His high white brow clouded, and a fierce light kindled in his
piercing, dark eyes, as through closed teeth came the rather
indistinct words :
" It is madness to indulge the thought ; I was a fool to dream
of it. She would prove heartless, like all of her sex, and repay
me with black ingratitude. Let her fight the battle of life
unaided."
He sprinkled a handful of water in the upturned face, and in
a few minutes saw the eyelids tremble, and knew from the look
of suffering, that with returning consciousness came the keen
pangs of grief. She covered her face with her hands, and after
a little while, asked :
" Shall I ever see him again ?"
" He will come here to-night to tell you about his trip. But
what will become of you in his absence ? answer me that !"
" God only knows \"
Dr. Hartwell wrote the directions for Johnny's medicine, and
placing the slip of paper on the glass, took his hat and left the
room. Beulah sat with her head pressed against the foot of the
crib stunned, taking no note of the lapse of time.
" Twilight grey,
Had in her sober livery all things clad."
The room had grown dark, save where a mellow ray stole
through the western window. Beulah rose mechanically, lighted
the lamp, and shaded it so as to shield the eyes of the sleeping
boy. The door was open, and glancing up, she saw Eugene on
the threshold. Her arms were thrown around him, with a low
cry of mingled joy and grief.
BEULAH. 51
" Oh, Eugene ! please don't leave me ! Whom have I in the
world but you ?"
" Beulah, dear, I must go. Only think of the privilege of
being at a German University I I never dreamed of such a piece
of good luck. Don't cry so ; I shall come back some of these
days, such an erudite, such an elegant young man, you will
hardly know me. Only five years. I am almost seventeen now ;
time passes very quickly, and you will scarcely miss me before I
shall be at home again."
He lifted up her face, and laughed gaily as he spoke.
" When are you to go ?"
" The vessel sails Wednesday three days from now. I shall
be very busy until then. Beulah, what glorious letters I shall
write you from the old world ! I am to see all Europe before
I return ; that is, my father says I shall. He is coming on, in
two or three years, with Cornelia, and we are all to travel toge-
ther. Won't it be glorious ?"
" Yes, for you. But, Eugene, my heart seems to die, when I
think of those coming five years. How shall I live without you ?
Oh, what shall I do ?"
" There, Beulah I do not look so wretched. You will have a
thousand things to divert your mind. My father says he will
see that you are sent to the public school. You know the tui-
tion is free, and he thinks he can find some good, kind family,
where you will be taken care of till your education is finished.
Your studies will occupy you closely, and you will have quite
enough to think of, without troubling yourself about my absence.
Of course, you will write to me constantly, and each letter will
be like having a nice, quiet chat together. Oh, dear ! can't you
get up a smile, and look less forlorn ? You never would look on
the bright side."
"Because I never had any to look on, except you and Lilly ;
and when you are gone, everything will be dark dark 1" she
groaned, and covered her face with her hands.
" Not unless you determine to make it so. If I did not know
52 BEULAH.
that my father would attend to your education, I should not be
so delighted to go. 'Certainly, Beulah, in improving yourself,
you will have very little leisure to sit down and repine that your
lot is not among the brightest. Do try to hope that things may
change for the better. If they do not, why, I shall not spend
eternity in Europe ; and when I come home, of course, I shall
take care of you myself."
She stood with one hand resting on his arm, and while he
talked on, carelessly, of her future, she fixed her eyes on his coun-
tenance, thinking of the desolate hours in store for her, when
the mighty Atlantic billows surged between her and the noble
classic face she loved so devotedly. A shadowy panorama of
coming years glided before her, and trailing clouds seemed
gathered about the path her little feet must tread. A vague
foreboding discovered to her the cheerlessness, and she shivered
in anticipating the dreariness that awaited her. But there was
time enough for the raging of the storm ; why rush so eagerly
to meet it ? She closed her eyes to shut out the grim vision,
and listened resolutely to the plans suggested for her approval.
When Eugene rose to say " good night," it was touching to note
the efforts she made to appear hopeful ; the sob swallowed, lest
it should displease him ; the trembling lips forced into a smile,
and the heavy eyelids lifted bravely to meet his glance. When
the door closed after his retreating form, the han'ds were clasped
convulsively, and the white, tearless face, mutely revealed the
desolation which that loving heart locked in its .darkened
chambers.
BEULAH. 53
CHAPTER VI.
SEVERAL tedious weeks had rolled away, since Eugene
Graham left his sunny southern home, to seek learning in the
venerable universities of the old world. Blue-eyed May, the
carnival month of the year, had clothed the earth with verdure,
and enamelled it with flowers of every hue, scattering her trea-
sures before the rushing car of summer. During the winter,
scarlet fever had hovered threateningly over the city, but as the
spring advanced, hopes were entertained that all danger had
passed. Consequently, when it was announced that the disease
had made its appearance in a very malignant form, in the house
adjoining Mrs. Martin's, she determined to send her children
immediately out of town. A relative living at some distance up
the river, happened to be visiting her at the time, and as she
intended returning home the following day, kindly offered to
take charge of the children, until all traces of the disease had
vanished. To this plan, Beulah made no resistance, though the
memory of her little sister haunted her hourly. What could
she do ? Make one last attempt to see her, and if again
refused, then it mattered not whither she went. When the pre-
parations for their journey had been completed, and Johnny
slept soundly in his crib, Beulah put on her old straw-bonnet,
and set out for Mr. Grayson's residence. The sun was low in
the sky, and the evening breeze rippling the waters of the bay,
stirred the luxuriant foliage of the ancient china-trees that
bordered the pavements. The orphan's heart was heavy with
undefined dread ; such a dread as had oppressed her the day of
her separation from her sister.
" Coming events cast their shadows before,"
And she was conscious that the sun-set glow could not dispel
54: B E U L A II .
the spectral gloom which enveloped her. She walked on, with
her head bowed, like one stooping from an impending blow, and
when at last the crouching lions confronted her, she felt as if
her heart had suddenly frozen. There stood the doctor's buggy.
She sprang up the steps, and stretched out her hand for the
bolt of the door. Long streamers of crape floated through her
fingers. She stood still a moment, then threw open the door
and rushed in. The hall floor was covered to muffle the tread ;
not a sound reached her, save the stirring of the china-trees
1 outside. Her hand was on the balustrade to ascend the steps,
but her eyes fell upon a piece of crape fastened to the parlor
door, and pushing it ajar she looked in. The furniture was
draped ; even the mirrors, and pictures, and on a small oblong
table in the centre of the room, lay a shrouded form. An
overpowering perfume of crushed flowers filled the air, and
Beulah stood on the threshold, with her hands extended, and
her eyes fixed upon the table. There were two children ;
Lilly might yet live, and an unvoiced prayer went up to God,
that the dead might be Claudia. Then like scathing lightning
came the recollection of her curse ; "May God answer their
prayers, as they answered mine." With rigid limbs she tottered
to the table, and laid her hand on the velvet pall ; with closed
eyes she drew it down, then held her breath and looked. There
lay her idol, in the marble arms of death. Ah ! how match-
lessly beautiful, wrapped in her last sleep ! The bright golden
curls glittered around the snowy brow, and floated like wander-
ing sunlight over the arms and shoulders. The tiny waxen
fingers clasped each other as in life, and the delicately chiselled
lips were just parted, as though the sleeper whispered. Beu-
lah's gaze dwelt upon this mocking loveliness, then the arms
were thrown wildly up, and with a long, wailing cry, her head
sank heavily on the velvet cushion, beside the cold face of her
dead darling. How long it rested there, she never knew.
Earth seemed to pass away ; darkness closed over her, and for
a time she had no pain, no sorrow ; she and Lilly were
BEULAH. 55
together. All was black, and she had no feeling. Then she was
lifted, and the motion aroused her torpid faculties ; she moaned
and opened her eyes. Dr. Hartwell was placing her on a sofa,
and Mrs. Grayson stood by the table with a handkerchief over
her eyes. With returning consciousness came a raving despair ;
Beulah sprang from the strong arm that strove to detain her,
and laying one clinched hand on the folded fingers of the dead,
raised the other fiercely toward Mrs. Grayson, and exclaimed
almost frantically :
" You have murdered her I I knew it would be so, when
you took my darling from my arms, and refused my prayer !
Aye 1 my prayer ! I knelt and prayed you in the name of God,
to let me see her once more ; to let me hold her to my heart,
and kiss her lips, and forehead, and little slender hands. You
scorned a poor girl's prayer ; you taunted me with my poverty,
and locked me from my darling, my Lilly ! my all 1 Oh,
woman ! you drove me wild, and I cursed you and your hus-
bund. Ha ! has your wealth and splendor saved her ? God
have mercy upon me ; I feel as if I could curse you eternally.
Could you not have sent for me before she died? Oh, if I
could only have taken her in my arms, and seen her soft angel
eyes looking up to me, and felt her little arms around my neck,
and heard her say ' sister ' for the last time ! Would it have
taken a dime from your purse, or made you less fashionable, to
have sent for me before she died ? ' Such measure as ye mete,
shall be meted to you again.' May you live to have your heart
trampled and crushed, even as you have trampled mine 1"
Her arm sank to her side, and once more the blazing eyes
were fastened on the young sleeper ; while Mrs. Grayson, cower-
ing like a frightened child, left the room. Beulah fell on her
knees, and crossing her arms on the table, bowed her head ;
now and then, broken, wailing tones passed the white lips.
Doctor Hartwell stood in a recess of the window, witk folded
arms and tightly compressed mouth, watching the young
mourner. Once he moved toward her, then drew back, and a
56 B E U L A H .
derisive smile distorted his features, as though he scorned him*
self for the momentary weakness. He turned suddenly away,
and reached the door, but paused to look back. The old straw
bonnet, with its faded pink ribbon, had fallen off, and heavy folds
of black hair veiled the bowed face. He noted the slight,
quivering form, and the thin hands, and a look of remorseful
agony swept over his countenance. A deadly pallor settled on
cheek and brow, as, with -an expression of iron resolve, he
retraced his steps, and putting his hand on the orphan's
shoulder, said gently :
" Beulah, this is no place for you. Come with me, child."
She shrank from his touch, and put up one hand, waving him
off.
" Your sister died with the scarlet fever, and Claudia is now
very ill with it.- If you stay here you will certainly take it your-
self."
" I hope I shall take it."
He laid his fingers on the pale, high brow, and softly drawing
back the thick hair, said earnestly : " Beulah, come home with
me. Be my child : my daughter."
Again her hand was raised to put him aside.
" No : you too would hate me for my ugliness. Let me hide
it in the grave with Lilly. They cannot separate us there."
He lifted her head ; and, looking down into the haggard face,
answered kindly
" I promise you I will not think you ugly. I will make you
happy. Come to me, child." She shook her head with a moan.
Passing his arm around her, he raised her from the carpet, and
leaned her head against him.
" Poor little sufferer ! they have made you drink, prematurely,
earth's bitter draughts. They have disenchanted your childhood
of its fairy- like future. Beulah, you are ill now. Do not struggle
so. You must come with me, my child." He took her in his
strong arms, and bore her out of the house of death. His buggy
stood at the door, and, seating himself in it, he directed the boy
BEULAII. 57
who accompanied him to "drive home." Beulah offered no
resistance ; she hid her face in her hands, and sat quite still,
scarcely conscious of what passed. She knew that a firm arm
held her securely, and, save her wretchedness, knew nothing else.
Soon she was lifted out of the buggy, carried up a flight of steps,
and then a flood of light flashed through the fingers, upon her
closed eyelids. Doctor Hartwell placed his charge on a sofa,
and rang the bell. The summons was promptly answered by a
negro woman of middle age. She stood at the door awaiting the
order, but his eyes were bent on the floor, and his brows knitted.
" Master, did you ring ?"
" Yes, tell my sister to come to me."
He took a turn across the floor, and paused by the open win-
dow. As the night air rustled the brown locks on his temples,
he sighed deeply. The door opened, and a tall, slender woman,
of perhaps thirty-five years, entered the room. She was pale and
handsome, with a profusion of short chestnut curls about her face.
With her hand resting on the door, she said, in a calm, clear tone:
" Well, Guy."
He started, and, turning from the window, approached her.
" May, I want a room arranged for this child as soon as pos-
sible. Will you see that a hot foot-bath is provided. When it
is ready, send Harriet for her."
His sister's lips curled as she looked searchingly at the figure
on the sofa, and said coldly :
" What freak now, Guy ?"
For a moment their eyes met steadily, and he smiled grimly.
" I intend to adopt that poor little orphan ; that is all !"
" Where did you pick her up, at the hospital ?" said she, sneer-
ingly.
" No, she has been hired as a nurse, at a boarding-house."
He folded his arms, and again they looked at each other.
" I thought you had had quite enough of proteges." She ner-
vously clasped and unclasped her jet bracelet.
" Take care, May Chilton ! Mark me. Lift the pall from the
3*
CO BEULAH.
past once more, mud you and Pauline most find another home*
another protector. Now, will you see that a room is prepared
as I directed F* He was Tery pale, and his eyes burned fiercely,
yet his tone was calm and subdued. Mrs. Ohilton bit her lips,
and withdrew. Doctor Hartwell walked np and down the room
for awhile, now and then looking sadly at the young stranger.
She sat just as he had placed her, with her hands orer her face.
Kindly he bent down and whispered :
" Will you trust me, Beulah T 9
She made no answer, but he saw her brow wrinkle, and knew
that she shuddered. The serrant came in to say that the room
had been arranged, as he had directed. Howerer surprised she
might hare been at this sudden adrent of the simply clad orphan
in her master's study, there was not the faintest indication of it
in her impenetrable countenance. Not eren the raising of an
eyebrow.
"Harriet, see that her feet are well bathed ; and, when she is
in bed, come for some medicine. 2 '
Then, draw Log the hands from her eyes, he said to Reniah.
"Go with her, my child. I am glad I hare you safe under
my own roof, where no more cruel injustice can assail yon.*
He pressed her hand kindly, and, rising mechanically, Beniah
accompanied Harriet, who considerately supported the drooping
fora. The room to which she was conducted was richly fur-
nished, and lighted by an elegant colored lamp, suspended from
the ceiling. Mrs. CTiilton stood near an am-chair, leaking moody
mad abstracted. Harriet carefully undressed the poor mourner,
and wrapping a shawl about her, placed her in the chair, and
bathed her feet. Mrs. Chilton watched her with fltamctafed
i-patieace. When the Kttfe drying feet were dried, Harriet
ifted her, as if die had been an infcnt, and placed her in bed,
then brought the medicine from the study, and administered a
spoonful of the mixture. Placing her finger on the girfs wrist,,
she courted the rapid pulse, and, toing imewicH*^ towaid
Mrs. ChfltoB, aid :
-- -
! whalaik JOM? ' What makes jom erj a> T
ead rlmii.1 to the puiow, an
-I am nmmerabm! Ivan* to die, ami Go* wfl
a*j that, tffl yam see whether yoafre got the
If TO ftaTe, yoa are Ekeiy to be taken pretty
jjjpmi hare*\ why, it* ai for the
a bad plan to fly "in the Almi^t^s *ce, that way, and tel
of her grief; bat she pereemd her master staffing btahw her,
loved away firam the bed.
he touted the paJse seTeral times. The
- * "' r 5 _ " - " . "~'._"
motionless jpc*
"Harriet, bring me a glass of ice-water.*
1.; _ ;. 5 :::: ....:_. ;- :... L:: :':.-.: :: : :-: >-f. ;-. r r :
he aid, tender^ :
"My child, try not to cry any more to-night. It s TVTT
bitter, I know ; bat remember, that thongh Lffly has been
taken from TOO, from this day yoa hare a friend, a hom< *
Harriet proffered the glass of water. He took it, raised the
head, and pat the sparkling draught to Bench's parched
60 BEULAH.
Without unclosing her eyes, she drank the last crystal drop,
and laying the head back on the pillow, he drew an arm-chair
before the window at the further end of the room, and seated
himself.
CHAP-TEE VII.
THROUGH quiet, woody dells roamed Beulah's spirit, and, hand
in hand, she and Lilly trod flowery paths and rested beside
clear, laughing brooks. Life, with its grim realities, seemed but
a flying mist. The orphan hovered on the confines of eternity's
ocean, and its silent waves almost laved the feet of the weary
child. The room was darkened, and the summer wind stole
through the blinds stealthily, as if awed by the solitude of the
sick-chamber. Dr. Hartwell sat by the low French bedstead,
holding one emaciated hand in his, counting the pulse which
bounded so fiercely in the blue veins. A fold of white linen
containing crushed ice lay on her forehead, and the hollow
cheeks and thin lips were flushed to vermilion hue. It was not
scarlet, but brain-fever, and this was the fifth day that the
sleeper had lain in a heavy stupor. Dr. Hartwell put back the
hand he held, and stooping over, looked long and anxiously at the
flushed face. The breathing was deep and labored, and turning
away, he slowly and noiselessly walked up and down the floor.
To have looked at him then, in his purple silk robe, de chambre,
one would have scarcely believed that thirty years had passed
over his head. He was tall and broad-chested, his head massive
and well formed, his face a curious study. The brow was
expansive and almost transparent in its purity, the dark, hazel
eyes were singularly brilliant, while the contour of lips and chin
was partially concealed by a heavy moustache and beard. The
first glance at his face impressed strangers by its extreme pallor,
but in a second look they were fascinated by the misty splendor
BEULAH. tfl
of the eyes. In truth those were strange eyes of Guy Hartwell.
At times, searching and glittering like polished steel ; occasion-
ally lighting up with a dazzling radiance, and then as suddenly
growing gentle, hazy, yet luminous ; resembling the clouded
aspect of a star seen through a thin veil of mist. His brown,
curling hair was thrown back from the face, and exposed the
outline of the ample forehead. Perhaps utilitarians would have
carped at the feminine delicacy of the hands, and certainly the
fingers were slender and marvellously white. On one hand he wore
an antique ring, composed of a cameo snake-head set round with
diamonds. A proud, gifted and miserable man was Guy Hart-
well, and his characteristic expression of stern sadness might easily
have been mistaken by casual observers for bitter misanthropy.
I have said he was about thirty, and though the handsome
face was repellently cold and grave, it was difficult to believe
that that smooth, fair brow, had been for so many years uplifted
for the handwriting of time. He looked just what he was, a
baffling, fascinating mystery. You felt that his countenance
was a volume of hieroglyphics, which, could you decipher,
would unfold the history of a checkered and painful career.
Yet the calm, frigid smile which sat on his lip, and looked out
defiantly from his deep-set eyes, seemed to dare you to an investi-
gation. Mere physical beauty cannot impart the indescribable
chann which his countenance possessed. Regularity of features
is a valuable auxiliary, but we look on sculptured marble, per-
fect in its chiselled proportions, and feel that, after all, the
potent spell is in the raying out of the soul, that imprisoned
radiance which, in some instances, makes man indeed but "little
lower than the angels." He paused in his echoless tread, and
sat down once more beside his protegee. She had not changed
her position, and the long lashes lay heavily on the crimson
cheeks. The parched lips were parted, and, as he watched her,
she murmured aloud :
"It is so sweet, Lilly ; we will stay here always." A
shadowy smile crossed her face, and then a great agony seemed
62 BEULAH.
to possess her, for she moaned long and bitterly. He tried tc
arouse her, and, for the first time since the night she entered his
house, she opened her eyes and gazed vacantly at him.
" Are you in pain, Beulah ? Why do you moan so ?"
" Eugene, I knew it would be so, when you left me."
"Don't you know me, Beulah?" He put his face close to
hers. " They killed her, Eugene ! I told you they would ; they
are going to bury her soon. But the grave can't hide her ; I am
going down with her into the darkness she would be frightened,
you know." Making a great effort, she sat upright. Dr. Hart-
well put a glass containing medicine to her lips ; she shrank back
and shuddered, then raised her hand for the glass, and looking
fixedly at him, said : "Did Mrs. Grayson say I must take it ?
Is it poison that kills quickly ? There : don't frown, Eugene, I
will drink it all for you. She swallowed the draught with a
shiver. He laid her back on her pillow and renewed the iced-
cloth on her forehead ; she did not move her burning eyes from
his face, and the refreshing coolness recalled the sad smile.
" Are we on the Alps, Eugene ? I feel dizzy, don't let me fall.
There is a great chasm yonder. Oh, I know now ; I am not afraid ;
Lilly is down there come on." Her arms drooped to her side,
and she slept again. Evening shadows crept on ; soon the room
was dark. Harriet entered with a shaded lamp, but her master
motioned her out, and throwing open the blinds, suffered the
pure moonlight to enter freely. The window looked out on the
flower-garden, and the mingled fragrance of roses, jasmins,
honeysuckles and dew-laden four-o'clocks, enveloped him as in a
cloud of incense. A balmy moonlight June night in our beauti-
ful sunny South who shall adequately paint its witchery ? Dr.
Hartwell leaned his head against the window, and glanced down
at the parterre he had so fondly fostered. The golden moonlight
mellowed every object, and not the gorgeous pictures of Persian
poets surpassed the quiet scene that greeted the master. The
shelled serpentine walks were bordered with low, closely-clipped
cassina hedges ; clusters of white and rose oleander, scarlet ger
B E U L A II . 03
aniums, roses of countless variety, beds of verbena of every hue,
and patches of brilliant annuals, all looked up smilingly at him.
Just beneath the window, the clasping tendrils of a clematis were
wound about the pedestal of a marble Flora, and a cluster of the
delicate purple blossoms peeped through the fingers of the god-
dess. Further off, a fountain flashed in the moonlight, murmur-
ing musically in and out of its reservoir, while the diamond spray
bathed the sculptured limbs of a Venus. The sea breeze sang its
lullaby through the boughs of a luxuriant orange-tree near, and
silence seemed guardian spirit of the beautiful spot when a
whippowil whirred through the air, and perching on the
snowy brow of the Aphrodite, began his plaintive night-hymn.
In childhood, Guy Hartwell had been taught by his nurse to
regard the melancholy chant as ominous of evil ; but as years
threw their shadows over his heart, darkening the hopes of his
boyhood, the sad notes of the lonely bird became gradually
soothing, and now in the prime of life, he loved to listen to the
shy visitor,, and ceased to remember that it boded ill. With an
ardent love for the beautiful, in all its Protean phases, he enjoyed
communion with nature as only an imaginative, a3sthetical tem-
perament can. This keen appreciation of beauty had been
fostered by travel and study. . Over the vast studio of nature
he had eagerly roamed ; midnight had seen him gazing enrap-
tured on the loveliness of Italian scenery, and found him watch-
ing the march of constellations from the lonely heights of the
Hartz; while the thunder tones of awful Niagara had often hushed
the tumults of his passionate heart, and bowed his proud head
in humble adoration. He had searched the storehouses of art,
and collected treasures that kindled divine aspirations in his soul,
and wooed him for a time from the cemetery of memory. With
a nature so intensely aesthetical, and taste so thoroughly culti-
vated, he had, in a great measure, assimilated his home to the
artistic beau ideal. Now as he stood inhaling the perfumed air,
he forgot the little sufferer a few yards off forgot that Azrail
stood on the threshold, beckoning her to brave tifc dark floods ;
64 BEULAH.
and as his whole nature became permeated (so to speak) by the
intoxicating beauty that surrounded him, he extended his arms,
and exclaimed triumphantly :
" Truly thou art my mother, dear old earth I I feel that I am
indeed nearly allied to thy divine beauty ! Starry nights, and
whispering winds, and fragrant flowers ! yea, and even the
breath of the tempest ! all, all are parts of my being."
" Guy, there is a messenger waiting at the door to see you.
Some patient requires prompt attendance." Mrs. Chilton stood
near the window, and the moonlight flashed over her handsome
face. Her brother frowned and motioned her away, but, smiling
quietly, she put her beautifully molded hand on his shoulder,
and said :
" I am sorry I disturb your meditations, but if you will
practise "
" Who sent for me ?"
" I really don't know."
" Will you be good enough to inquire ?' ;
" Certainly." She glided gracefully from the room.
The whippowil flew from his marble perch, and as the mourn-
ful tones died away, the master sighed, and returned to the bed-
side of his charge. He renewed the ice on her brow, and soon
after his sister reentered.
" Mr. Vincent is very sick, and you are wanted immediately."
" Very well." He crossed the room and rang the bell.
" Guy, are you sure that girl has not scarlet-fever ?"
" May, I have answered that question at least twice a day for
nearly a week."
" But you should sympathize with a mother's anxiety. I dread
to expose Pauline to danger."
" Then let her remain where she is."
" But I prefer having her come home, if I could feel assured
that girl has only brain-fever."
" Then, once for ali, there is no scarlet fever in the house."
He took a f ial from his pocket, and poured a portion of its
BEtJLAH. 65
contents into the glass, which he placed on a stand by Beulah's
bed ; then turning to Harriet, who had obeyed his summons, he
directed her to administer the medicine hourly.
" Guy, you may give your directions to me, for I shall stay with
the child to-night." As she spoke, she seated herself at the foot
of the bed.
" Harriet, hand me the candle in the hall." She did so ; and
as her master took it from her hand, he said, abruptly :
" Tell Hal to bring my buggy round, and then you may go to
bed. I will ring if you are wanted." He waited until she was
out of hearing, and, walking up to his sister, held the candle so
that the light fell full upon her face.
" May, can I trust you ?"
" Brother, you are cruelly unjust." She covered her face with
her lace handkerchief.
" Am I, indeed ?"
" Yes, you wrong me hourly, with miserable suspicions. Guy,
remember that I have your blood in my veins, and it will not
always tamely bear insult, even from you." She removed the
handkerchief, and shook back her glossy curls, while her face
grew still paler than was its wont.
" Insult ! May, can the unvarnished truth be such ?"
They eyed each other steadily, and it was apparent that each
iron will was mated.
" Guy, you shall repent this."
" Perhaps so. You have made me repent many things."
" Do you mean to say that "
" I mean to say, that since you have at last offered to assist
in nursing that unconscious child, I wish you to give the medicine
hourly. The last potion was at eight o'clock." He placed the
candle so as to shade the light from the sick girl, and left the
room. Mrs. Chilton sat for some time as he had left her, with
her head leaning on her hand, her thoughts evidently perplexed
and bitter. At length she rose and stood close to Beulah, look-
ing earnestly at her emaciated face. She put her fingers on the
66 BEULAH.
burning temples and wrist, and counted accurately the pulsations
of the lava tide, then bent her queenly head, and listened to the
heavily-drawn breathing. A haughty smile lit her fine features
as she said, complacently : "A mere tempest in a tea-cup.
Pshaw, this girl will not mar my projects long. By noon to-
morrow she will be in eternity. I thought, the first time I saw
her ghostly face, she would trouble me but a short season.
What paradoxes men are. What on earth possessed Guy,
with his fastidious taste, to bring to his home such an ugly,
wasted, sallow little wretch ? I verily believe, as a family, we
are beset by evil angels." Drawing out her watch, she saw that
the hand had passed nine. Raising the glass to her lips, she
drank the quantity prescribed for the sufferer, and was replacing
it on the stand, when Beulah's large, eloquent eyes startled her.
" Well child, what do you want ?" sard she, trembling, de-
spite her assumed indifference. Beulah looked at her vacantly,
then threw her arms restlessly over the pillow, and slept again.
Mrs. Chilton drew up a chair, seated herself, and sank into a
reverie of some length. Ultimately she was aroused by perceiv-
ing her brother beside her, and said hastily :
" How is Mr. Vincent ? Not dangerously ill, I hope ?"
" To-morrow will decide that. It is now ten minutes past ten ;
how many potions have you given ?"
" Two," answered she, firmly.
" Thank you, May. I will relieve you now. Good night."
" But you are worn out, and I am not. Let me sit up. I will
wake you if any change occurs."
" Thank you, I prefer watching to-night. Take that candle,
and leave it on the table in the hall. I need nothing but moon-
light. Leave the door open." As the flickering light vanished,
he threw himself into the chair beside the bed.
B E U L A H . 67
CHAPTER VIII.
IT was iu the grey light of dawning day that Beulah awoke to
consciousness. For some moments after unclosing her eyes, they
wandered inquiringly about the room, and finally rested on the
tall form of the watcher, as he stood at the open window.
Gradually, memory gathered up its scattered links, and all thft
incidents of that hour of anguish rushed yividly before her. The
little table, with its marble sleeper ; then a dim recollection of
having been carried to a friendly shelter. Was it only yesterday
evening, and had she slept ? The utter prostration which pre-
vented her raising her head, and the emaciated appearance of
her hands, told her " no." Too feeble even to think, she moaned
audibly. Dr. Hartwell turned and looked at her. The room
was still in shadow, though the eastern sky was flushed, and he
stepped to the bedside. The fever had died out, the cheeks
vvere very pale, and the unnaturally large, sunken eyes lustreless.
3he looked at him steadily, yet with perfect indifference. He
eaned over, and said, eagerly :
" Beulah, do you know me ?' ;
" Yes, I know you."
" How do you feel this morning ?"
" I am very weak, and my head seems confused. How long
have I been here ?"
" No matter, child, if you are better." He took out his watch,
and, after counting her pulse, prepared some medicine, and gave
her a potion. Her features twitched, and she asked tremblingly,
as if afraid of her own question :
" Have they buried her ?"
" Yes, a week ago."
She closed her eyes with a groan, and her face became con
C8 DEULAH.
vulsed ; then she lay quite still, with a wrinkled brow. Doctor
Hartwell sat down by her, and, taking one of her wasted little
hands in his, said gently :
" Beulah, you have been very ill. I scarcely thought you
would recover ; and now, though much better, you must not
agitate yourself, for you are far too weak to bear it."
" Why didn't you let me die ? Oh, it would have been a
mercy I" She put her hand over her eyes, and a low cry wailed
through the room.
" Because I wanted you to get well, and live here, and be my
little friend, my child. Now, Beulah, I have saved you, and you
belong to me. When you are stronger, we will talk about all
you want to know ; but to-day you must keep quiet, and not
think of what distresses you. Will you try ?"
The strong, stern man shuddered, as she looked up at him
with an expression of hopeless desolation, and said slowly :
" I have nothing but misery to think of."
" Have you forgotten Eugene so soon ?"
For an instant the eyes lighted up, then the long lashes swept
her cheeks, and she murmured :
"Eugene; he has left me too; something will happen to him
also; I never loved anything but trouble came upon it."
Dr. Hartwell smiled grimly, as though unconsciously she had
turned to view some page in the history of his own life.
"Beulah, you must not despond; Eugene will come back an
elegant young man before you are fairly out of short dresses.
There, do not talk any more, and don't cry. Try to sleop, and
remember, child, you are homeless and friendless n-> longer."
He pressed her hand kindly, and turned toward the d ;ur. It
opened, and Mrs. Chilton entered.
"Good morning, Guy; how is your patient?" said she,
blandly.
" Good morning, May; my little patient is much better. She
has been talking to me, and I am going to send her s )rae break-
fast." He-put both hands on his sister's shoulders, find looked
B E U L A H . 69
down into her beautiful eyes. She did not flinch, but he saw a
greyish hue settle around her lips.
"Ah! I thought last night there was little hope of her reco-
very. You are a wonderful doctor, Guy; almost equal to raising
the dead." Her voice was even, and, like his own, marvellously
sweet.
"More wonderful still, May; I can read the living." His
moustached lip curled, as a scornful smile passed over his face.
" Read the living ? then you can understand and appreciate
my pleasure at this good news. Doubly good, because it secures
Pauline's return to-day. Dear child, I long to have her at home
again." An expression of anxious maternal solicitude crossed
her features. Her brother kept his hand on her shoulder, and
as his eye fell on her glossy auburn curls, he said, half musingly:
"Time touches you daintily, May; there is not one silver
foot-print on your hair."
" He has dealt quite as leniently with you. But how could I
feel the inroads of time, shielded as I have been by your kind-
ness ? Cares and sorrows bleach the locks oftener than accu-
mulated years; and you, Guy, have most kindly guarded your
poor widowed sister."
" Have I, indeed, May ?"
"Ah! what would become of my Pauline and me, but for
your generosity, your"
"Enough! Then, once for all, be kind to yonder sick child;
if not for her sake, for your own. You and Pauline can aid me
in making her happy, if you will. And if not, remember, May,
you know my nature. Do not disturb Beulah now; come down
and let her be quiet." He led her down the steps, and then
throwing open a glass door, stepped out upon a terrace covered
with Bermuda grass, and sparkling like a tiara in the early sun-
light. Mrs. Chilton watched him descend the two white marble
steps leading down to the flower beds, and leaning against the
wall, she muttered:
" It cannot be possible that that miserable beggar is to come
70 B E TJ L A H .
between Pauline and his property! Is he mad to dream of
making that little outcast his heiress ? Yet he meant it; I saw
it in his eye; the lurking devil that has slumbered since that
evening, and that I hoped would never gleam out at me again.
Oli! we are a precious family. Set the will of one against
another, and all Pandemonium can't crush either! Ten to one,
Pauline will lose her wits too, and be as hard to manage as
Guy." Moody and perplexed, she walked on to the dining-room.
Beulah had fallen into a heavy slumber of exhaustion, and it was
late in the day when she again unclosed her eyes. Harriet sat
sewing near her, but soon perceiveo) that she was awake, and
immediately put aside her work.
"Aha! so you have come to your senses again, have you?
How are you, child ?"
" I am weak."
" Which isn't strange, seeing that you haven't eat a teaspoon-
ful in more than a week. Now, look here, little one; I am
ordered to nurse and take charge of you, till you are strong
enough to look out for yourself. So you must not object to
anything I tell you to do." Without further parley, she washed
and wiped Beulah's face and hands, shook up the pillows, and
placed her comfortably on them. To the orphan, accustomed
all her life to wait upon others, there was something singularly
novel in being thus carefully handled; and nestling her head
close to the pillows, she shut her eyes, lest the tears that were
gathering should become visible. Harriet quitted the room
for a short time, and returned with a salver containing some
refreshments.
"I can't eat anything. Thank you; but take it away."
Beulah put her hands over her face, but Harriet resolutely
seated herself on the side of the bed, lifted her up, and put a
cup of tea to the quivering lips.
"It is no use talking; master said you had to eat, and you
might just as well do it at once. Poor thing! you are hiding
your eyes to cry. Well, drink this tea and eat a little; you
B E U L A H . 71
must, for folks can't live forever without eating." There was
no alternative, and Beulah swallowed what was given her.
Harriet praised her obedient spirit, and busied herself about the
room for some time. Finally, stooping over the bed, she said
abruptly:
"Honey, are you crying?"
There was no reply, and kneeling down, she said cautiously:
" If you knew as much about this family as I do, you would
cry, sure enough, for something. My master says he has adopted
you, and since he has said it, everything will work for good to
you. But, child, there will come times when you need a friend
besides master, and be sure you come to me when you do. I
won't say any more now, but remember what I tell you when
you get into trouble. Miss Pauline has come, and if she hap-
pens to take a fancy to you (which I think she won't), she will
stand by you till the stars fall; and if she don't, she will hate
you worse than Satan himself for" ' Harriet did not com-
plete the sentence, for she detected her master's step in the
passage, and resumed her work.
" How is she ?"
" She did not eat much, sir, and seems so downhearted."
" That will do. I will ring when you are needed."
Dr. Hartwell seated himself on the edge of the bed, and lift-
ing the child's head to his bosom, 'drew away the hands that
shaded her face.
"Beulah, are you following my directions ?"
" Oh, sir ! you are very kind, but I am too wretched, too
miserable, even to thank you "
" I do not wish you to thank me. All I desire is, that you
will keep quiet for a few days, till you grow strong, and not lie
here sobbing yourself into another fever. I know you have had
a bitter lot in life so far, and memories are all painful with you,
but it is better not to dwell upon the past. Ah, child ! it is
well to live only in the present, looking into the future.
I promise you I will guard you, and care for you as tenderly as
72 B E U L A H .
a father ; and now, Beulah, I think you owe it to me, to try to
be cheerful."
He passed his fingers softly over her forehead, and put back
the tangled masses of jetty hair, which, long neglect had
piled about her face. The touch of his cool hand, the low
musical tones of his voice, were very soothing to the weary
sufferer, and with a great effort she looked up into the deep,
dark eyes, saying brokenly :
" Oh, sir, how good you are 1 I am very grateful
to you indeed, I "
"There, my child, do not try to talk, only trust me, and be
cheerful. It is a pleasure to me to have you here, and know
that you will always remain in my house."
How long he sat there, she never knew, for soon she slept,
aud when hours after she waked, the lamp was burning dimly,
and only Harriet was in the room. A week passed, and the
girl saw no one except the nurse and physician. One sunny
afternoon, she looped back the white curtains, and sat down
before the open window. Harriet had dressed her in a blue
calico wrapper, which made the wan face still more ghastly, and
the folds of black hair, which the gentle fingers of the kind
nurse had disentangled, lay thick about her forehead, like an
ebon wreath on the brow of a statue. Her elbows rested on
the arms of the easy-chair, and the weary head leaned upon the
hands. Before her lay the flower garden, brilliant and fragrant,
further on, a row of Lombardy poplars bounded the yard, and
beyond the street, stretched the west common. In the distance
rose a venerable brick building, set, as it were, in an emerald
lawn, and Beulah looked only once, and knew it was the
Asylum. It was the first time she had seen it since her exodus,
and the long sealed fountain could no longer be restrained.
Great hot tears fell over the bent face, and the frail form
trembled violently. For nearly fourteen years that brave
spirit had battled, and borne, and tried to hope for better
things. With more than ordinary fortitude, she had resigned
B E U L A H . 73
herself to the sorrows that came thick and fast upon her, and
trusting in the eternal love and goodness of God, had looked
to him for relief and reward. But the reward came not in the
expected way. Hope died ; faith fainted ; and bitterness and
despair reigned in that once loving and gentle soul. Her father
had not been spared in answer to her frantic prayers. Lilly
had been taken, without even the sad comfort of a farewell,
and now, with the present full of anguish, and the future
shrouded in dark forebodings, she sobbed aloud.
" All alone ! All alone 1 0, father 1 0, Lilly, Lilly 1"
" Do pray, chile, don't take on so ; you will fret yourself
sick again," said Harriet, compassionately patting the drooped
head.
" Don't talk to me don't speak to me I" cried Beulah,
passionately.
" Yes, but I was told not to let you grieve yourself to death,
and you are doing your best. Why don't you put your trust in
the Lord ?"
" I did, and he has forgotten me."
" No, chile. He forgets not even the little snow-birds. I
expect you wanted to lay down the law for Him, and are not
willing to wait until he sees fit to bless you. Isn't it so ?"
" He never can give me back my dead."
" But he can raise up other friends for you, and he has. It is
a blessed thing to have my master for a friend, and a protector.
Think of living always in a place like this, with plenty of money,
and nothing to wish for. Chile, you don't know how lucky"
She paused, startled by ringing, peals of laughter, which
seemed to come from the adjoining passage. Sounds of mirth t
fell torturingly upon Beulah's bleeding spirit, and she pressed
her fingers tightly over her ears. Just opposite to her sat the
old trunk, which, a fortnight before, she had packed for her jour-
ney up the river. The leathern face seemed to sympathize with
her woe, and kneeling down on the floor, she wound her arms
caressingly over it.
4
74 B E U L A H .
" Bless the girl I she hugs that ugly old-fashioned thing, as if
it were kin to her," said Harriet, who sat sewing at one of the
windows.
Beulah raised the lid, and there lay her clothes, the books
Eugene had given her ; two or three faded, worn-out garments
of Lilly, and an old Bible. The tears froze in her eyes, as she
took out the last, and opened it at the ribbon mark. These
words greeted her : " Whom the Lord loveth, he, chasteneth."
Again and again she read them, an4 the crushed tendrils of
trust feebly twined once more about the promise. As she sat
there, wondering why suffering and sorrow always fell on those
whom the Bible calls " blessed," and trying to explain the para-
dox, the door was thrown rudely open, and a girl about her own
age sprang into the room, quickly followed by Mrs. Chilton.
" Let me alone, mother. I tell you I mean to see her, and
then you are welcome to me as long as you please. Ah, is
that her ?"
The speaker paused in the centre of the apartment, and gazed
curiously at the figure seated before the old trunk. Involun-
tarily, Beulah raised her eyes, and met the searching look
fixed upon her. The intruder was richly dressed, and her very
posture bespoke the lawless independence of a willful, petted
child. The figure was fautlessly symmetrical, and her face
radiantly beautiful. The features were clearly cut, and regular,
the eyes of deep, dark violet hue, shaded by curling brown
lashes. Her chestnut hair was thrown back with a silver comb,
and fell in thick curls below the waist ; her complexion was of
alabaster clearness, and cheeks and lips wore the coral bloom of
health. As they confronted each other, one looked a Hebe, the
other a ghostly visitant from spirit realms. Beulah shrank
from the eager scrutiny, and put up her hands to shield her
face. The other advanced a few steps, and stood beside her.
The expression of curiosity faded, and something like compas-
sion swept over the stranger's features, as she noted the thin,
drooping form of the invalid. Her lips parted, and she put out
BETTLAH. 75
her hand, as if to address Beulah, when Mrs. Chilton exclaimed
impatiently :
" Pauline, come down this instant ! Your uncle positively for-
bade your entering this room until he gave you permission.
There is his buggy this minute ! Come out, I say 1" She laid
her hand in no gentle manner on her daughter's arm.
'* Oh, sink the buggy ! What do I care if he does catch me
here ? I shall stay till I make up my mind whether that little
thing is a ghost or not. So, mother, let me alone." She shook
off the clasping hand that sought to drag her away, and again
fixed her attention on Beulah.
" Willful girl 1 you will ruin everything yet. Pauline, follow
me instantly, I command you 1" She was white with rage, but
the daughter gave no intimation of having heard the words, and
throwing her arm about the girl's waist, Mrs. Chilton dragged
her to the door. There was a brief struggle at the threshold,
and then both stood quiet before the master of the house.
" What is all this confusion about ? I ordered this portion
of the house kept silent, did I not ?"
" Yes, Guy ; and I hope you will forgive Pauline's thought-
lessness. She blundered in here, and I have just been scolding
her for disobeying your injunctions."
" Uncle Guy, it was not thoughtlessness, at all ; I came on
purpose. For a week, I have been nearly dying with curiosity
to see that little skeleton you have shut up here, and I ran
up to get a glimpse of her. I don't see the harm of it; I haven't
hurt her." Pauline looked fearlessly up in her uncle's face,
and planted herself firmly in the door, as if resolved not to be
ejected.
"Does this house belong to you, or to me, Pauline ?"
" To you, now : to me, some of these days, when you give it
to me for a bridal present."
His brow cleared, he looked kindly down into the frank, truth-
ful countenance, and said, with a half smile :
" Do not repeat your voyage of discovery, or perhaps your
76 B E U L A H .
bridal anticipations may prove an egregious failure. Do you
understand me ?"
" I have not finished the first. Mother played pirate, and
carried me off before I was half satisfied. Uncle Guy, take me
under your flag, do ! I will not worry the little thing I pro-
mise you I will not. Can't I stay here a while ?" He smiled,
and put his hand on her head, saying
" I am inclined to try you. May, you can leave her here. I
will send her to you after a little." As he spoke, he drew her
up to the orphan. Beulah looked at them an instant, then
averted her head.
" Beulah, this is my niece, Pauline Chilton ; and Pauline, this
is my adopted child, Beulah Benton. You are about the same
age, and can make each other happy, if you will. Beulah, shake
hands with my niece." She put up her pale, slender fingers, and
they were promptly clasped in Pauline's plump palm.
^ " Do stop crying, and look at me. I want to see you," said
the latter.
" I am not crying."
" Then, what are you hiding your face for ?"
" Because it is so ugly," answered the orphan, sadly.
Pauline stooped down, took the head in her hands, and turned
the features to view. She gave them a searching examination,
and then, looking up at her uncle, said bluntly :
" She is not pretty, that is a fact ; but, somehow, I rather
like her. If she did not look so doleful, and had some blood in
her lips, she would pass well enough, don't you think so ?"
Dr. Hartwell did not reply; but raising Beulah from the floor,
placed her in the chair she had vacated some time before. She
did, indeed, look " doleful," as Pauline expressed it, and the
beaming, lovely face of the latter rendered her wan aspect more
apparent. s
" What have you been doing all day ?" said the doctor, kindly.
She pointed to the Asylum, and answered in a low, subdued
tone :
B E TJ L A H . 77
"Thinking about my past life all my misfortunes/'
" You promised you would do so no more."
" Ah, sir ! how can I help it ?"
" Why, think of something pleasant, of course," interrupted
Pauline.
" You never had any sorrows ; you know nothing of suffer-
ing," replied Beulah, allowing her eyes to dwell on the fine open
countenance before her : a mirthful, sunny face, where waves of
grief had never rippled.
" How came you so wise ? I have troubles sometimes, just
like everybody else." Beulah shook her head dubiously.
" Paulino, will you try to cheer this sad little stranger ? will
you be always kind in your manner, and remember that her life
has not been as happy as yours ? Can't you love her ?" She
shrugged her shoulders, and answered evasively :
" I dare say we will get on well enough, if she will only
quit looking so dismal and graveyardish. I don't know about
loving her ; we shall see."
" You can go down to your mother now," said he, gravely.
" That means you are tired of me, Uncle Guy," cried she,
saucily shaking her curls over her face.
" Yes, heartily tired of you ; take yourself off."
11 Good bye, shadow; I shall come to see you again to-morrow."
She reached the door, but looked back.
" Uncle, have you seen Charon since you came home ?"
11 No."
" Well, he will die if you don't do something for him. It is a
shame to forget him as you do !" said she, indignantly.
" Attend to your own affairs, and do not interfere with mine."
"It is high time somebody interfered. Poor Charon I If
Hal doesn't take better care of him, I will make his mother box
his ears ; see if I don't."
She bounded down the steps, leaving her uncle to smooth his
brow at leisure. Turning to Beulah, he took her hand, and said
very kindly :
78 BEULAH.
" This large room does not suit you. Come, and I will show
you your own little room one I have had arranged for you."
She silently complied, and leading her through several passages,
Le opened the door of the apartment assigned her. The walls
were covered with blue and silver paper ; the window-curtains
of white, faced with blue, matched it well, and every article of
furniture bespoke lavish and tasteful expenditure. There was a
small writing-desk near a handsome case of books, and a little
work-table with a rocking-chair drawn up to it. He staled
Beulah, and stood watching her, as her eyes wandered curiously
and admiringly around the room.. They rested on a painting
suspended over the desk, and rapt in contemplating the design,
she forgot for a moment all her sorrows. It represented an
angelic figure winging its way over a valley beclouded and dis-
mal, and pointing, with a radiant countenance, to the gilded
summit of a distant steep. Below, bands of pilgrims, weary and
worn, toiled on ; some fainting by the wayside, some seated in
sullen despair, some in the attitude of prayer, some pressing
forward with strained gaze, and pale, haggard faces.
" Do you like it ?" said Doctor Hartwell.
Perhaps she did not hear him ; certainly she did not heed the
question, and taking a seat near one of the windows, he regarded
her earnestly. Her eyes were fastened on the picture, and raising
her hands toward it, she said in broken, indistinct tones :
" I am dying down in the dark valley ; oh, come, help me to
toil on to the resting-place."
Her head sank upon her bosom, and bitter waves lashed her
heart once more.
Gradually, evening shadows crept on, and at length a soft
hand lifted her face, and a musical voice said :
" Beulah, I want you to come down to my study and make my
tea. Do you feel strong enough ?"
" Yes, sir." She rose at once and followed him, resolved to
eeem cheerful.
The study was an oblong room, and on one side book-shelves
BETJLAH. 79
rose almost to the ceiling. The opposite wall, between the win-
dows, was covered with paintings, and several statues stood in
Hie recesses near the chimney. Over the low marble mantel-
piece hung a full-length portrait, shrouded with black crape, and
underneath was an exquisitely chased silver case, containing a
small Swiss clock. A beautiful terra-cotta vase, of antique shape,
stood on the hearth, filled with choice and fragrant flowers, and
near the wiudow sat an elegant rosewood melodeon. A circular
table occupied the middle of the room, and here the evening
meal was already arranged. Beulah glanced timidly around as
her conductor seated her beside the urn, and seeing only cups
for two persons, asked hesitatingly :
" Shall I make your tea now ?"
1 Yes, and remember, Beulah, I shall expect you to make it
every evening at this hour. Breakfast and dinner I take with
my sister and Pauline in the dining-room, but my evenings are
always spent here. There, make another cup for yourself."
A long silence ensued. Doctor Hartwell seemed lost in
reverie, for he sat with his eyes fixed on the table-cloth, and his
head resting on his hand. His features resumed their habitual
expression of stern rigidity, and as Beulah looked at him she
could scarcely believe that he was the same kind friend who had
been so gentle and fatherly in his manner. Intuitively she felfc
then that she had to deal with a chaotic, passionate and moody
nature, and as she marked the knitting of his brows, and the
iron compression of his lips, her heart was haunted by grave
forebodings. While she sat pondering his haughty, impenetrable
appearance a servant entered.
" Sir, there is a messenger at the door."
His master started slightly, pushed away his cup and said :
" Is the buggy ready ?"
" Yes, sir, waiting at the door."
" Very well, I am coming."
The windows opened down to the floor, and led into a vine-
covered piazza. He stepped up to one and stood a moment, as
80 BETJLAH.
jf loth to quit his sanctum ; then turning round, addressed
Beulah :
" Ah, child, I had almost forgotten you. It is time you were
asleep. Do you know the way back to your room ?"
" I can find it," said she, rising from the table.
" Good night ; let me see you at breakfast if you feel strong
enough to join us."
He opened the door for her, and hurrying out, Beulah found
her own room without difficulty. Walking up to Harriet, whom
she saw waiting for her, sh* said in a grave, determined
manner :
11 You have been very kind to me since I came here, and I feel
grateful to you, but I have not been accustomed to have some
one always waiting on me, and in future I shall not want you.
I can dress myself without any assistance, so you need not come
to me night and morning."
" I am obeying master's orders. He said I was to 'tend to
you," answered Harriet, wondering at the independent spirit
evinced by the new comer.
" I do not want any tending, so you may leave me, if you
please."
" Haven't you been here long enough to find out that you
might as well fight the waves of the sea as my master's will ?
Take care, child, how you begin to countermand his orders, for I
tell you now there are some in this house who will soon make it
a handle to turn you out into the world again. Mind what I
Bay."
" Do you mean that I am not wanted here ?"
" I mean, keep your eyes open." Harriet vanished in the dark
passage, and Beulah locked the door, feeling that now she was
indeed alone, and could freely indulge the grief that had so long
sought to veil itself from curious eyes. Yet there was no dispo-
sition to cry. She sat down on the bed and mused on the
strange freak of fortune which had so suddenly elevated the
humble nurse into the possessor of that elegantly furnished
BE TIL AH. 81
>
apartment. There was no elation in the quiet wonder with
which she surveyed the change in her position. She did not
belong there, she had no claim on the master of the house, and
she felt that she was trespassing on the rights of the beautiful
Pauline. Rapidly plans for the future were written in firm
resolve. She would thankfully remain under the roof that had
so kindly sheltered her, until she could qualify herself to teach.
She would ask Doctor Hartwell to give her an education, which,
once obtained, would enable her to repay its price. To her
proud nature there was something galling in the thought of
dependence, and throwing herself on her knees for the first time
in several weeks, she earnestly besought the God of orphans to
guide and assist her.
CHAPTER IX.
" Do you wish her to commence school at once ?"
" Not until her wardrobe has been replenished. I expect her
clothes to be selected and made just as Pauline's are. Will you
atiend to this business, or shall I give directions to Harriet ?"
" Certainly, Guy, I can easily arrange it. You intend to dress
her just as I do Pauline ?"
" As nearly as possible. Next week I wish her to begin school
with Pauline, and Hansell will give her music lessons. Be so
good as to see about her clothes immediately."
Dr. Hartwell drew on his gloves and left the room. His sister
followed him to the door where his buggy awaited him.
" Guy, did you determine about that little affair for Pauline ?
She has so set her heart on it."
" Oh, do as you please, May, only I am "
" Stop, Uncle Guy 1 Wait a minute : may I have a birthday
party ? May I ?" Almost out of breath, Pauline ran up thu
4*
82 BETTLAH.
steps ; her long hair floating over her face, which exercise had
flushed to crimson.
" You young tornado ! Look how you have crushed that
cluster of heliotrope, rushing over the flower-beds as if there were
no walks." He pointed with the end of his whip to a drooping
spray of purple blossoms.
" Yes ; but there are plenty more. I say, may I ? may I ?"
She eagerly caught hold of his coat.
" How long before your birthday ?"
" Just a week from to-day. Do, please, let me have a frolic !"
" Poor child ! you look as if you needed some relaxation," said
he, looking down into her radiant face, with an expression of
mock compassion.
"Upon my word, Uncle Guy, it is awfully dull here. If it
were not for Charon and Mazeppa I should be moped to death.
Do, pray, don't look at me as if you were counting the hairs in
my eyelashes. Come, say yes : do, Uncle Guy."
"Take your hands off of my coat, and have u< m:my parties
as you like, provided you keep to your own side of the house.
Don't come near my study with your Babel, and don't allow your
company to demolish my flowers. Mind, not a soul is to enter
the greenhouse. The parlors are at your service, but I will not
have a regiment of wild-cats tearing up and down my greenhouse
and flower-garden ; mind that." He stepped into his buggy.
" Bravo ! I have won my wager, and got the party too !
Hugh Cluis bet me a papier-mache writing-desk that you would
not give me a party. When I send his invitation, I will write
on the envelope ' the writing-desk is also expected.' Hey, sha
dow, where did you creep from ?" She fixed her merry eyes ou
Beulah, who just then appeared on the terrace. Dr. Hartwell
leaned from the buggy, and looked earnestly at the quiet little
figure.
" Do you want anything, Beulah ?"
" No, sir, I thought you had gone. May I open the gate for
you ?"
B E U L A II . 83
" Certainly, if you wish to do something for me." His pale
features relaxed, and his whole face lighted up, like a sun-flushed
cloud.
Beulah walked down the avenue, lined on either side with
venerable poplars and cedars, and opened the large gate leading
into the city. He checked his horse, and said :
"Thank you, my child ; now how are you going to spend the
day ? Remember you commence with school duties next week,
80 make the best of your holiday."
" I have enough to occupy me to-day. Good bye, sir."
" Good bye, for an hour or so." He smiled kindly and drove
on, while she walked slowly back to the house, wondering why
smiles were such rare things in this world, when they cost so
little, and yet are so very valuable to mourning hearts. Pauline
sat on the steps with an open book in her hand. She looked up
as Beulah approached, and exclaimed gaily :
" Aren't you glad I am to have my birthday frolic ?"
" Yes, I am glad on your account," answered Beulah, gravely.
" Can you dance all the fancy dances ? I don't like any so
well as the mazourka."
" I do not dance at all."
" Don't dance 1 Why, I have danced ever since I was big
enough to crawl ! What have you been doing all your life, that
you don't know how to dance ?"
" My feet have had other work to do," replied her companion;
and as the recollections of her early childhood flitted before her,
the brow darkened.
" I suppose that is one reason you look so forlorn all the
time. I will ask Uncle Guy to send you to the dancing school
for"
" Pauline, it is school-time, and you don't know one word of
that Quackenbos ; I would be ashamed to start from home as
ignorant of my lessons as you are." Mrs. Chilton's head was
projected from the parlor window, and the rebuke was delivered
in no very gentle tone.
84 BEULAH.
" Oh, I don't mind it at all : I have got used to it," answered
the daughter, tossing up the book as she spoke.
" Get ready for school this minute."
Pauline scampered into the house for her bonnet and sachel ;
and fixing her eyes upon Beulah, Mrs. Chilton asked sternly :
" What are you doing out there ? What did you follow my
brother to the gate for ? Answer me !"
" I merely opened the gate for him," replied the girl, looking
steadily up at the searching eyes.
" There was a servant with him to do that. In future don't
make yourself so conspicuous. You must keep away from the
flower-beds too. The doctor wishes no one prowling about them ;
he gave particular directions that no one should go there in his
absence."
They eyed each other an instant ; then drawing up her slender
form fro its utmost height, Beulah replied proudly :
" Be assured, madam, I shall not trespass on forbidden
ground !"
" Very well." The lace curtejans swept back to their place
the fair face was withdrawn.
" She hates me," thought Beulah, walking on to her own room,
" she hates ine, and certainly I do not love her. I shall like
Pauline very much, but her mother and I never will get on
smoothly. What freezing eyes she has, and what a disagreeable
look there is about her mouth whenever she sees me. She
wishes me to remember all the time that I am poor, and that she
is the mistress of this elegant house. Ah, I am not likely to
forget it 1" The old smile of bitterness crossed her face.
The days passed swiftly. Beulah spent most of her time in her
own room, for Dr. Hartwell was sometimes absent all day, and
she longed to escape his sister's icy espionage. When he was at
home, and not engaged in his study, his manner was always kind
and considerate ; but she fancied he was colder and graver, aiid
often his stern abstraction kept her silent when they were toge-
ther. Monday was the birth-day, and on Monday morning she
B E U L A H . 85
expected to start to school. Madam St. Cymon's wag. the fash-
ionable institution of the city, and thither, with Pauline, she was
destined. Beulah rose early, dressed herself carefully, and
after reading a chapter in her Bible, and asking God's special
guidance through the day, descended to the breakfast-room. Dr.
Hartwell sat reading a newspaper ; he did not look up, and she
quietly seated herself unobserved. Presently Mrs. Chilton entered
and walked up to her brother.
" Good morning, Guy. Are there no tidings of that vessel
yet ? I hear the Grahams are terribly anxious about it.
Cornelia said her father was unable to sleep."
" No news yet, but, May, be sure you do not let "
" Was it the Morning Star ? Is he lost ?"
Beulah stood crouching at his side, with her hands extended
pleadingly, and her white face convulsed.
" My child, do not look so wretched ; the vessel that Eugene
sailed in was disabled in a storm, and has not yet reached the
place of destination. But there are numerous ways of account-
ing for the detention, and you must hope and .believe that all is
well, until you know the contrary." He drew her to his side,
and stroked her head compassionately.
" I knew it would be so," said she, in a strangely subdued,
passionless tone.
11 What do you mean, child ?"
" Death and trouble come on everything I love."
" Perhaps at this very moment Eugene may be writing you an
account of his voyage. I believe that we shall soon hear of his
safe arrival. You need not dive down into my eyes in that way.
I do believe it, for the vessel was seen after the storm, and
though far out of the right track, there is good reason to sup-
pose she has put into some port to be repaired."
Beulah clasped her hands over her eyes, as if to shut out
some horrid phantom, and while her heart seemed dying on the
rack, she resolved not to despair till the certainty came.
" Time enough when there is no hope j I will not go out to
86 BEULAH.
meet sorrow." With a sudden, inexplicable revulsion of feeling,
she sank on her knees, and there beside her protector, vehe-
mently prayed Almighty God to guard and guide the tempest-
tossed loved one. If her eyes had rested on the face of Deity,
and she had felt his presence, her petition could not have been
more importunately preferred. For a few moments Dr. Hartwell
regarded her curiously ; then his brow darkened, his lips curled,
sneeringly, and a mocking sinile passed over his face. Mrs.
Chilton smiled, too, but there was a peculiar gleam in her eyes,
and an uplifting of her brows which denoted anything but
pleasurable emotions. She moved away, and sat down at the
head of the table. Dr. Hartwell put his hand on the shoulder
of the kneeling girl, and asked, rather abruptly :
" Beulah, do you believe that the God you pray to hears you ?"
" I do. He has promised to answer prayer."
" Then, get up and be satisfied, and eat your breakfast. You
have asked him to save and protect Eugene, and, according to
the Bible, He will certainly do it ; so, no more tears. If you
believe in your God, what are you looking so wretched about ?"
There was something in all this that startled Beulah, and she
looked up at him. His chilly smile pained her, and she rose
quickly, while again and again his words rang in her ear. Yet,
what was there so strange about this application of faith ? True,
the Bible declared that " whatsoever ye ask, believing, that ye
shall receive," she had often prayed for blessings, and often been
denied. Was it because she had not had the requisite faith,
which should have satisfied her ? Yet God knew that she had
trusted him. With innate quickness of perception, she de-
tected the tissued veil of irony, which the doctor had wrapped
about his attempted consolation, and she looked at him so
intently, so piercingly, that he hastily turned away and seated
himself at the table. Just then, Pauline bounded into the
room, exclaiming :
" Fourteen to-day ! Only three more years at school, and
then I shall step out a brilliant young lady, the "
B E U L A H . 87
"There; be quiet; sit down. I would almost as soon select
a small whirlwind for a companion. Can't you learn to enter a
room without blustering like a March wind, or a Texan
norther ?" asked her uncle.
" Have you all seen a ghost ? You look as solemn as grave-
diggers. What ails you, Beulah ? Come along to breakfast.
How nicely you look in your new clothes." Her eyes ran over
the face and form of the orphan.
" Pauline, hush ! and eat your breakfast. You annoy your
uncle," said her mother, severely.
" Oh, do, for gracious sake, let me talk 1 I feel sometimes as
if I should suffocate. Everything about this house is so demure,
and silent, and solemn, and Quakerish, and hatefully prim. If
ever I have a house of my own, I mean to paste in great letters
over the doors and windows, 'Laughing and talking freely
allowed P This is my birthday, and I think I might stay at
home. Mother, don't forget to have the ends of my sash
fringed, and the tops of my gloves trimmed." Draining her
small china cup, she sprang up from the table, but paused beside
Beulah.
" By the by, what are you going to wear to-night, Beulah ?"
" I shall not go into the parlors at all," answered the latter.
" Why not ?" said Dr. Hartwell, looking suddenly up. He
met the sad, suffering expression of the grey eyes, and bit his
lip with vexation. She saw that he understood her feelings, and
made no reply.
" I shall not like it, if you don't come to my party," said
Pauline, slowly ; and as she spoke she took one of the orphan's
hands.
"You are very kind, Pauline, but I do not wish to see
strangers."
" But, you never will know anybody if you make such a nun
of yourself. Uncle Guy, tell her she must come down into the
parlors to-night."
" Not unless she wishes to do so. But, Pauline, I am very
88 BEULAH.
glad tha you have shown her you desire her presence." He
put his hand on her curly head, and looked with more than
usual affection, at the bright, honest face.
" Beulah, you must get ready for school. Come down as soon
as you can. Pauline will be waiting for you." Mrs. Chilton
spoke in the calm, sweet tone peculiar to her and her brother,
but to Beulah there was something repulsive in that even voice,
and she hurried from the sound of it. Kneeling beside her bed,
she again implored the Father to restore Eugene to her, and
crushing her grief and apprehension down into her heart, she
resolved to veil it from strangers. As she walked on by Pau-
line's side, only the excessive paleness of her face, and drooping
of her eyelashes betokened her suffering.
Entering school is always a disagreeable ordeal, and to a sen-
sitive nature, such as Beulah's, it was torturing. Madam St.
Cyinon was a good-natured, kind, little body, and received her
with a warmth and cordiality which made amends in some degree
for the battery of eyes she was forced to encounter.
" Ah, yes I the doctor called to see me about you wants
you to take the Latin course. For the present, my dear, you
will sit with Miss Sanders. Clara, take this young lady with
you."
The girl addressed looked at least sixteen years of age, and
rising promptly she came forward and led Beulah to a seat at her
desk, which was constructed for two persons. The touch of her
fingers sent a thrill through Beulah's frame, aad she looked at
her very earnestly.
Clara Sanders was not a beauty in the ordinary acceptation
of the term, but there was an expression of angelic sweetness
and purity in her countenance which fascinated the orphan.
She remarked the scrutiny of the young stranger, and smiling
good-humoredly said, as she leaned over and arranged the
desk :
" I am glad to have you with me, and dare say we shall get
on very nicely together. You look ill."
BEULAH. 89
" I have been ill recently and have not yet regained my
strength. Can you tell me where I can find some water ? I feel
rather faint."
Her companion brought her a glass of water. She drank it
eagerly, and as Clara resumed her seat, said in a low voice :
" Oh, thank you. You are very kind."
" Not at all. If you feel worse you must let me know." She
turned to her books and soon forgot the presence of the new
comer.
The latter watched her, and noticed now that she was dressed
in deep mourning ; was she too an orphan, and had this circum-
stance rendered her so kindly sympathetic ? The sweet, gentle
face, with its soft, brown eyes, chained her attention, and in the
shaping of the mouth there was something very like Lilly's.
Soon Clara left her for recitation, and then she turned to the
new books which madam had sent to her desk. Thus passed
the morning, and she started when the recess bell rang its
summons through the long room. Bustle, chatter, and con-
fusion ensued. Pauline called to her to come into lunch-
room, and touched her little basket as she spoke, but Beulah
shook her head and kept her seat. Clara also remained.
" Pauline is calling you," said she gently.
41 Yes, I hear ; but I do not want anything." And Beulah
rested her head on her hands.
11 Don't you feel better than you did this morning ?"
" Oh, I am well enough in body ; a little weak, that is all."
" You look quite tired ; suppose you lean your head against
me and take a short nap ?"
" You are very good indeed, but I am not at all sleepy."
Clara was engaged in drawing, and looking on, Beulah be-
came interested in the progress of the sketch. Suddenly a hand
was placed over the paper, and a tall, handsome girl, with black
eyes and sallow complexion, exclaimed sharply :
"For heaven's sake, Clara Sanders, do you expect to swim
into the next world on a piece of drawing-paper ? Come over to
90 BETTLAH.
my seat and work out that eighth problem for me. I have puz-
zled over it all the morning, and can't get it right."
11 1 can show you here quite as well." Taking out her Euclid,
she found and explained the obstinate problem.
" Thank you. I cannot endure mathematics, but father is
bent upon my being ' thorough/ as he calls it. I think it is all
thorough nonsense. Now with you it is very different, you
expect to be a teacher, and of course will have to acquire all
these branches ; but for my part I see no use in it. I shall be
rejoiced when this dull school- work is over."
" Don't say that, Cornelia, I think our school-days are the
happiest, and feel sad when I remember that mine are num-
bered."
Here the bell announced recess over, and Cornelia moved
away to her seat. A trembling hand sought Clara's arm.
" Is that Cornelia Graham ?"
" Yes ; is she not very handsome ?"
Beulah made no answer, she only remembered that this girl
was Eugene's adopted sister, and looking after the tall, queenly
form, she longed to follow her, and ask all the particulars of the
storm. Thus ended the first dreaded day at school, and on
reaching home, Beulah threw herself on her bed with a low
wailing cry. The long pent sorrow must have vent, and she
sobbed until weariness sank her into a heavy sleep.
Far out in a billowy sea, strewed with wrecks, and hideous
with the ghastly, upturned faces of floating corpses, she and
Eugene were drifting now clinging to each other now tossed
asunder by howling waves. Then came a glimmering sail on the
wide waste of waters ; a little boat neared them, and Lilly
leaned over the side and held out tiny, dimpled hands to lift them
in. They were climbing out of their watery graves, and Lilly's
long, fair curls already touched their cheeks, when a strong arm
snatched Lilly back, and struck them down into the roaring
gulf, and above the white faces of the drifting dead, stood Mrs.
Gray son, sailing away with Lilly struggling in her arms.
BEULAH. 91
Eugene was sinking and Beulah could not reach him ; he held
up his arms imploringly toward her, and called upon her to
save him, and then his head with its wealth of silken, brown
locks disappeared. She ceased to struggle ; she welcomed
drowning now that he had gone to rest among coral temples.
She sank down down. The rigid corpses were no longer visi-
ble. She was in an emerald palace, and myriads of rosy shells
paved the floors. At last she found Eugene reposing on a coral
bank, and playing with pearls ; she hastened to join him, and
was just taking his hand when a horrible phantom, seizing him
in its arms, bore him away, and looking in its face she saw that
it was Mrs. Chilton. With a wild scream of terror, Beulah awoke.
She was lying across the foot of the bed, and both hands were
thrown up, grasping the post convulsively. The room was dark,
save where the moonlight crept through the curtains and fell
slantingly on the picture of Hope and the Pilgrims, and by that
dim light she saw a tall form standing near her.
" Were you dreaming, Beulah, that you shrieked so wildly ?"
The doctor lifted her up, and leaned her head against his
shoulder.
i
" Oh, Dr. Hartwell I I have had a horrible, horrible dream."
She shuddered, and clung to him tightly, as if dreading it might
still prove a reality.
" Poor child. Come with me, and I will try to exorcise this
evil spirit which haunts even your slumbers."
Keeping her hand in his, he led her down to his study, and
seated her on a couch drawn near the window. The confused
sound of many voices, and the tread of dancing feet, keeping
time to a band of music, came indistinctly from the parlors. Dr.
Hartwell closed the door, to shut out the unwelcome sounds, and
seating himself before the melodeon, poured a flood of soothing,
plaintive melody upon the air. Beulah sat entranced, while he
played on and on, as if unconscious of her presence. Her whole
being was inexpressibly thrilled ; and, forgetting her frightful
vision, her enraptured soul hovered on the very confines of fabled
92 BEULAH.
elysium. Sliding from the couch, upon her knees, she remained
with her clasped hands pressed over her heart, only conscious of
her trembling delight. Once or twice before, she had felt thus,
in watching a gorgeous sunset in the old pine grove ; and now,
as the musician seemed to play upon her heart-strings, calling
thence unearthly tones, the tears rolled swiftly over her face.
Images of divine beauty filled her soul, and nobler aspirations
than she had ever known, took possession of her. Soon the tears
ceased, the face became calm, singularly calm ; then lighted
with an expression which nothing earthly could have kindled. It
was the look of one, whose spirit, escaping from gross bondage,
soared into realms divine, and proclaimed itself God-born. Dr.
Hartwell was watching her countenance, and, as the expres-
sion of indescribable joy and triumph flashed over it, he involun-
tarily paused. She waited till the last deep echoing tone died
away, and then approaching him, as he still sat before the
instrument, she laid her hand on his knee, and said slowly :
" Oh I thank you, I can bear anything now."
" Can you explain to me how the music strengthened you ?
Try, will^you ?"
She mused for some moments, and answered thoughtfully :
" First, it made me forget the pain of my dream ; then it
caused me to think of the wonderful power which created music ;
and then, from remembering the infinite love and wisdom of the
Creator, who has given man the power to call out this music, I
thought how very noble man was, and what he was capable of
doing ; and, at last, I was glad because God has given me some
of these powers ; and, though I am ugly, and have been afflicted
in losing my dear loved ones, yet I was made for God's glory in
some way, and am yet to be shown the work he has laid out for
me to do. Oh ! sir, I can't explain it all to you, but I do know
that God will prove to me that " He doet/i all things well."
She looked gravely up into the face beside her, and sought to
read its baffling characters. He had leaned his elbow on the
melodeon, and his wax-like fingers were thrust through his hair
BET7LAH. 93
His brow was smooth, and his mouth at rest, but the dark eyes,
with their melancholy splendor, looked down at her moodily.
They met her gaze steadily, and then she saw into the misty
depths, and a shudder crept over her, as she fell on her knees,
and said, shiveringly :
" " Oh, sir, can it be ?"
He put his hand on her head, and asked, quietly :
" Can what be, child I"
" Have you no God ?"
His face grew whiter than was his wont. A scowl of bitter-
ness settled on it, and the eyes burned with an almost unearthly
brilliance, as he rose and walked away. For some time he stood
before the window, with his arms folded ; and, laying her head
on the stool of the melodeon, Beulah knelt just as he left her.
It has been said, " who can refute a sneer ?" Rather ask, who
can compute its ruinous effects. To that kneeling figure came
the thought, "if he, surrounded by wealth, and friends, and
blessings, cannot believe in God, what cause have I, poor,
wretched and lonely, to have faith in Him ?" The bare sugges-
tion of the doubt stamped it on her memory, yet she shrank with
horror from the idea, and an eager, voiceless prayer ascended
from her heart, that she might be shielded from such temptations
in future. Dr. Hartwell touched her, and said, in his usual
low, musical tones :
"It is time you were asleep. Do not indulge in any more
horrible dreams, if you please. Good night, Beulah. Whenever
you feel that you would like to have some music, do not hesitate
to ask me for it."
He held open the door for her to pass out. She longed to ask
him what he lived for, if eternity had no joys for him ; but,
looking in his pale face, she saw from the lips and eyes that he
would not suffer any questioning, and, awed by the expression of
his countenance, she said " good night," and hurried away. The
merry hum of childish voices again fell on her ear, and as she
ascended the steps, a bevy of white-clad girls emerged from a
94 B E T7 L A H .
room near, and walked on just below her. Pauline's party was
at its height. Beulah looked down on the fairy gossamer robes,
and gayly tripping girls, and then hastened to her own room,
while the thought presented itself :
" Why are things divided so unequally in this world ? Why
do some have all of joy, and some only sorrow's brimming cup to
drain?" But the sweet voice of Faith answered, " What I do,
thaw knowest not now, but thou shalt know hereafter," and, trusting
the promise, she was content to wait.
CHAPTER X.
" CORNELIA GRAHAM, I want to know why you did not come to
my party ? You might at least have honored me with an
excuse." Such was Pauline's salutation, the following day, when
the girls gathered in groups about the schoolroom.
"Why, Pauline, I did send an excuse, but it was addressed
to your mother, and probably she forgot to mention it. You
must acquit me of any such rudeness."
" Well, but why didn't you come ? We had a glorious time.
I have half a mind not to tell you what I heard said of you,
but I believe you may have it second-hand. Fred Vincent was
as grum as a preacher, all the evening, and when I asked him
what on earth made him so surly and owlish, he said, ' it was
too provoking you would not come, for no one else could dance
the Schottisch to his liking.' Now there was a sweet specimen
of manners for you ! You had better teach your beau politeness."
Cornelia was leaning listlessly against Clara's desk, and
Beulah fancied she looked very sad, and abstracted. She
colored at the jest, and answered contemptuously :
" He is no beau of mine, let me tell you, and as for manners,
I commend him to your merciful tuition."
BEULAH. 95
" But what was your excuse ?" persisted Pauline.
" I should think you might conjecture, that I felt no inclina-
tion to go to parties and dance, when you know that we are all
so anxious about my brother."
" Oh, I did not think of that I" cried the heedless girl, and
quite as heedlessly she continued :
" I want to see that brother of yours. Uncle Guy says he
is the handsomest boy in the city, and promises to make some-
thing extraordinary. Is he so very handsome ?"
" Yes," the proud lip trembled.
" I heard Anne Yernon say, she liked him better than all her
other beaux, and that is great praise, coming from her queen-
ship," said Emily Wood, who stood near.
Cornelia's eyes dilated angrily, as she answered with curling
lips :
11 Eugene one of her beaux 1 It is no such thing."
" You need not look so insulted. I suppose if the matter is
such a delicate one with you, Anne will withdraw her claim,"
sneered Emily, happy in the opportunity afforded of wounding
the haughty spirit, whom all feared, and few sympathized with.
Cornelia was about to retort, but madam's voice prevented, as
leaning from the platform opposite, she held out a note, and
said,
" Miss Graham, a servant has just brought this for you."
The girl's face flushed and paled alternately, as she received
the note, and broke the seal with trembling fingers. Glancing
over the contents, her countenance became irradiated, and she
exclaimed joyfully :
" Good news ! the Morning Star has arrived at Amsterdam.
Eugene is safe in Germany."
Beulah's head went down on her desk, and just audible were
the words,
" My Father in Heaven, I thank thee I"
Only Clara and Cornelia heard the broken accents, and they
looked curiously at the bowed figure, quivering with joy.
96 BEULAH.
" Ah ! I understand ; this is the Asylum, Beulah, I have often,
heard him speak of. I had almost forgotten the circumstance.
You knew him very well, I suppose ?" said Cornelia, addressing
herself to the orphan, and crumpling the note between her
fingers, while her eyes ran with haughty scrutiny over the dress
and features before her.
" Yes, I knew him very well." Beulah felt the blood come
into her cheeks, and she ill-brooked the cold, searching look bent
upon her.
" You are the same girl that he asked my father to send to
the public school. How came you here ?"
A pair of dark grey eyes met Cornelia's gaze, and seemed
to answer defiantly, " What is it to you ?"
" Has Dr Hartwell adopted you ? Pauline said so, but she
is so heedless, that I scarcely believed her, particularly when it
seemed so very improbable."
" Hush, Cornelia ! Why, you need Pauline's tuition about as
much as Fred Vincent, I am disposed to think. Don't be so
inquisitive, it pains her," remonstrated Clara, laying her arm
around Beulah's shoulder as she spoke.
" Nonsense ! She is not so fastidious, I will warrant. At
least, she might answer civil questions."
" I always do," said Beulah.
Cornelia smiled derisively, and turned off, with the parting
taunt :
" It is a mystery to me what Eugene can see in such a
homely, unpolished specimen. He pities her, I suppose."
Clara felt a long shiver creep over the slight form, and saw
the ashen hue that settled on her face, as if some painful wound
had been inflicted. Stooping down, she whispered :
" Don't let it trouble you. Cornelia is hasty, but she is
generous, too. and will repent her rudeness. She did not intend
to pain you ; it is only her abrupt way of expressing herself."
Beulah raised her head, and putting back the locks of hair
that had fallen over her brow, replied coldly:
B E U L A H . 97
" It is nothing new ; I am accustomed to such treatment.
Only professing to love Eugene, I did not expect her to insult
one, whom he had commissioned her to assist, or at least sympa-
thize with."
" Remember, Beulah, she is an only child, and her father's
idol, and perhaps "
" The very blessings that surround her should teach her to
feel for the unfortunate and unprotected," interrupted the
orphan.
"You will find that prosperity rarely has such an effect upon
the heart of its favorite/ 7 answered Clara, musingly.
"An unnecessary piece of information. I discovered that
pleasant truth some time since," said Beulah, bitterly.
" I don't know, Beulah ; you are an instance to the contrary.
Do not call yourself unfortunate, so long as Doctor Hartwell
is your friend. Ah I you little dream how blessed you are."
Her voice took the deep tone of intense feeling, and a faint
glow tinged her cheek.
" Yes, he is very kind, very good," replied the other, more
gently.
" Kind ! good I is that all you can say of him ?" The soft
brown eyes kindled with unwonted enthusiasm.
" What more can I say of him, than that he is good ?"
returned the orphan, eagerly, while the conversation in the study,
the preceding day, rushed to her recollection.
Clara looked at her earnestly for a moment, and then averting
her head, answered evasively.
" Pardon me ; I have no right to dictate the terms in which
you should mention your benefactor." Beulah's intuitions were
remarkably quick, and she asked, slowly :
"Do you know him well ?"
" Yes ; oh, yes I very well indeed. Why do you ask ?"
" And you like him very much ?"
"Very much."
She saw the gentle face now, and saw that some sorrow had
5
98 BEULAH.
called tears to the eyes, and sent the blood coldly back to her
heart.
" No one can like him as I do. You don't know how very
kind he has been to me me, the miserable, lonely orphan,"
murmured Beulah, as his smile and tones recurred to her.
"Yes, I can imagine, because I know his noble heart ; and,
therefore, child, I say you cannot realize how privileged you
are."
The discussion was cut short by a call to recitation, and too
calmly happy in the knowledge of Eugene's safety, to ponder her
companion's manner, Beulah sank into a reverie, in which Eugene,
and Heidelberg, and long letters, mingled pleasingly. Later in
the day, as she and Pauline were descending the steps, the door
of the primary department of the school opened, and a little
girl, clad in deep black, started up the same flight of steps.
Seeing the two above, she leaned against the wall, waiting f6r
them to pass. Beulah stood still, and the sachel she carried fell
unheeded from her hand, while a thrilling cry broke from the
little girl's lips ; and springing up the steps, she threw herself
into Beulah's arms.
" Dear Beulah I I have found you at last !" She covered the
thin face with passionate kisses ; then heavy sobs escaped her,
and the two wept bitterly together.
" Beulah, I did love her very much ; I did not forget what I
promised you. She used to put her arms around my neck every
night, and go to sleep close to me ; and whenever she thought
about you and cried, she always put her head in my lap. Indeed
I did love her."
" I believe you, Claudy," poor Beulah groaned, in her anguish.
" They did not tell me she was dead ; they said she was sick
in another room ! Oh, Beulah ! why didn't you come to see
us ? Why didn't you come ? When she was first taken sick,
she called for you all the time ; and the evening they moved me
into the next room, she was asking for you. ' I want my sister
Beulah 1 I want my Beulah !' was the last thing I heard her
BETJLAH. 99
say; and when I cried for you, too, mamma said we were both
crazy with fever. Oh 1" she paused and sobbed convulsively.
Beulah raised her head, and while the tears dried in her flashing
eyes, said fiercely :
" Claudy, I did go to see you I On my knees, at Mrs. Gray-
sou's front door, I prayed her to let me see you. She refused,
and ordered me to come there no more I She would not suffer
my sister to know that I was waiting there on my knees to see
her dear, angel face. That was long before you were taken sick.
She did not even send me word that Lilly was ill ; I knew
nothing of it, till my darling was cold in her little shroud I Oh,
Claudy ! Claudy !"
She covered her face with her hands and tried to stifle the
wail that crossed her lips. Claudia endeavored to soothe her, by
winding her arms about her and kissing her repeatedly. Pauline
had looked wonderingly on, during this painful reunion ; and
now drawing nearer, she said, with more gentleness than was
her custom :
" Don't grieve so, Beulah. Wipe your eyes and come home ;
those girls yonder are staring at you."
"What business is it of yours?" began Claudia; but Beulah's
sensitive nature shrank from observation, and rising hastily, she
took Claudia to her bosom, kissed her and turned away.
" Oh, Beulah ! shan't I see you again ?" cried the latter, with
streaming eyes.
" Claudia, your mamma would not be willing."
" I don't care what she thinks. Please, come to see me
please, do ! Beulah, you don't love me now, because Lilly is
dead ! Oh, I could not keep her God took her 1"
"Yes, I do love you, Claudy more than ever ; but you must
come to see me. I cannot go to that house again. I can't see
your mamma Grayson. Come and see me, darling !"
She drew her bonnet over her face and hurried out.
" Where do you live ? I will come and see you I" cried Claudia,
running after the retreating form.
100 BEULAH.
" She lives at Doctor Hartwell's that large, brick house, out
on the edge of town ; everybody knows the place."
Pauline turned back to give this piece of information, and
then hastened on to join Beulah. She longed to inquire into all
the particulars of the orphan's early life ; but the pale, fixed
face gave no encouragement to question, and they walked on in
perfec-t silence until they reached the gate at the end of the
avenue. Then Pauline asked, energetically:
" Is that little one any kin to you ?"
" No ; I have no kin in this world," answered Beulah,
drearily.
Pauline shrugged her shoulders, and made no further attempt
to elicit confidence. On entering the house, they encountered
the doctor, who was crossing the hall. He stopped, and
said :
"I have glad tidings for you, Beulah. The Morning Star
arrived safely at Amsterdam, and by this time, Eugene is at
Heidelberg."
Beulah stood very near him, and answered tremblingly :
" Yes, sir, I heard it at school."
He perceived that something was amiss, and untying her bon-
net, looked searchingly at the sorrow-stained face. She shut her
eyes, and leaned hen head against him.
" What is the matter, my child ? I thought you would be
very happy in hearing of Eugene's safety."
She was unable to reply just then ; and Pauline, who stood
swinging her sachel to and fro, volunteered an explanation.
" Uncle Guy, she is curious, that is all. As we were leaving
school, she met a little girl on the steps, and they flew at each
other, and cried, and kissed, and you never saw anything like
it 1 I thought the child must be a very dear relation ; but she
says she has no kin. I don't see the use of crying her eyes out,
particularly when the little one is nothing to her."
Her uncle's countenance resumed its habitual severity, and
taking Beulah's hand, he led her into that quietest of all quiet
BEULAIF. 101
places, his study. Seating himself, and drawing her to his side,
he said: ,' * , ,
" Was it meeting Claudia that distressed 'you; fa Jnupli ? TFhdt'
child is very warmly attached to you! 'S)\e raved, about; you
constantly during her illness. So did Llfly.""' 1> dtcVimt 1 iiti6eT>
stand the relationship then, or I should have interfered, and
carried you to her. I called to see Mr. and Mrs. Grayson last
week, to remove the difficulties in the way of your intercourse
with Claudia, but they were not at home. I will arrange mat-
ters so that you may be with Claudia as often as possible. You
have been wronged, child, I know; but try to bury it; it is all
past now." He softly smoothed back her hair as he spoke.
"No, sir; it never will be past; it will always be burning
here in my heart."
" I thought you professed to believe in the Bible."
She looked up instantly, and answered:
" I do, sir. I do."
" Then your belief is perfectly worthless; for the Bible charges
you to ' forgive and love your enemies/ and here you are trying
to fan your hate into an everlasting flame."
She saw the scornful curl of his lips, and sinking down beside
him, she laid her head on his knee, and said hastily:
"I know it is wrong, sinful, to feel toward Mrs. Grayson as I
do. Yes, sir; the Bible tells me it is ve'ry sinful; but I have
been so miserable, I could not help hating her. But I will try
to do so no more. I will ask God to help me forgive her." His
face flushed even to his temples, and then the blood receded,
leaving it like sculptured marble. Unable or unwilling to answer,
he put his hands on her head, softly, reverently, as though he
touched something ethereal. He little dreamed that, even then,
that suffering heart was uplifted to the Throne of Grace, pray-
ing the Father that she might so live and govern herself, that
he, might come to believe the Bible, which her clear insight too
surely told her he despised.
Oh! protean temptation. Even as she knelt, with her pro-
102 BEULAH.
tector's hands resting on her brow, ubiquitous evil suggested the
thought: " Is he not kinder, and better, than any one you ever
' kn^w ? r *Qa$ i}6% ?Mrs. Grayson a pew in the most fashionable
' cHurch f Did not, Eugene tell you he saw her there, regularly,
',&fry' Sunday I , '.Professing Christianity, she injured you; reject-
ing it, he has guarded and most generously aided you. ' By their
fruits ye shall judge.' " Very dimly all this passed through her
mind. She was perplexed and troubled at the confused ideas
veiling her trust.
" Beulah, I have an engagement, and must leave you. Stay
here if you like, or do as you please with yourself. I shall not
be home to tea, so good night." She looked pained, but
remained silent. He smiled, and drawing out his watch, said
gaily:
" I verily believe you miss me when I leave you. Go, put on
your other bonnet, and come down to the front door; I have
nearly an hour yet, I see, and will give you a short ride. Hurry,
child; I don't like to wait."
She was soon seated beside him in the buggy, and Mazeppa's
swift feet had borne them some distance from home ere either
spoke. The road ran near the bay, and while elegant residences
lined one side, the other was bounded by a wide expanse of
water, rippling, sparkling, glowing in the evening sunlight.
Small sail boats, with their gleaming canvas, dotted the blue
bosom of the bay; and the balmy breeze, fresh from the gulf,
fluttered the bright pennons that floated from their masts.
Beulah was watching the snowy wall of foam, piled on either
side of the prow of a schooner, and thinking how very beautiful
it was, when the buggy stopped suddenly, and Dr. Hart well
addressed a gentleman on horseback:
" Percy, you may expect me; I am coming as I promised."
" I was about to remind you of your engagement. But, Guy,
whom have you there ?"
" My protegee I told you of. Beulah, this is Mr. Lockhart."
The rider reined his horse near her side, and leaning forward as
BETTLAH. 103
he raised his hat, their eyes met. Both started visibly, and
extending his hand, Mr. Lockhart said eagerly:
" Ah, my little forest friend! I am truly glad to find you again."
She shook hands very quietly, but an expression of pleasure
stole over her face. Her guardian observed it, and asked:
" Pray, Percy, what do you know of her ?"
" That she sings very charmingly," answered his friend, smil-
ing at Beulah.
" He saw me once when I was at the Asylum," said she.
" And was singing part of the regime there ?"
"No, Guy; she was wandering about the piney woods, near
the Asylum, with two beautiful elves, when I chanced to meet
her. She was singing at the time. Beulah, I am glad to find
you out again; and in future, when I pay the doctor long visits,
I shall expect you to appear for my entertainment. Look to it,
Guy, that she is present. But I am fatigued with my unusual
exercise, and must return home. Good bye, Beulah; shake
hands. I am going immediately to my room, Guy; so come as
soon as you can." He rode slowly on, while Dr. Hartwell shook
the reins, and Mazeppa sprang down the road again. Beulah
had remarked a great alteration in Mr. Lockhart's appearance ;
he was much paler, and bore traces of recent and severe illness.
His genial manner and friendly words had interested her, and
looking up at her guardian, she said, timidly:
" Is he ill, sir ?"
" He has been, and is yet quite feeble. Do you like him ?"
" I know nothing of him, except that he spoke to me one
evening some months ago. Does he live here, sir ?"
"No; he has a plantation on the river, but is here on a visit
occasionally. Much of his life has been spent in Europe, and
thither he goes again very soon."
The sun had set. The bay seemed a vast sheet of fire, as the
crimson clouds cast their shifting shadows on its bosom; and
forgetting everything else, Beulah leaned out of the buggy, and
said almost unconsciously:
104 BEULAH.
. "How beautiful! how very beautiful!" Her lips were parted;
her eyes clear, and sparkling with delight. Dr. Hartwell sighed,
and turning from the bay road, approached his home. Beulah
longed to speak to him of what was pressing on her heart, but
glancing at his countenance to see whether it was an auspicious
time, she was deterred by the sombre sternness which over-
shadowed it, and before she could summon courage to speak,
they stopped at the front gate:
" Jump out, and go home; I have not time to drive in."
She got out of the buggy, and looking up at him as he rose
to adjust some part of the harness, said bravely:
" I am very much obliged to you for my ride. I have not
had such a pleasure for years. I thank you very much."
"All very unnecessary, child. I am glad you enjoyed it."
He seated himself, and gathered up the reins, without looking
at her; but she put her hand on the top of the wheel, and said
in an apologetic tone:
" Excuse me, sir ; but may I wait in your study till you come
home ? I want to ask you something." Her face flushed, and
her voice trembled with embarrassment.
" It may be late before I come home to-night. Can't you tell
me now what you want ? I can wait."
" Thank you, sir; to-morrow will do as well, I suppose. I will
not detain you." She opened the gate and entered the yard.
Dr. Hartwell looked after her an instant, and called out, as he
drove on :
" Do as you like, Beulah, about waiting for me ; of course the
study is free to you at all times."
The walk, or rather carriage-road, leading up to the house was
bordered by stately poplars and cedars, whose branches inter-
laced overhead, and formed a perfect arch. Beulah looked up
at the dark-green depths among the cedars, and walked on with
a feeling of contentment, nay, almost of happiness, which was a
stranger to her heart. In front of the house, and in the centre
of a grassy circle, was a marble basin, from which a fountain
BEULAH. 105
ascended. She sat down on the edge of the reservoir, and taking
off her bonnet, gave unrestrained license to her wandering
thoughts. Wherever her eyes turned, verdure, flowers, statuary
met her gaze ; the air was laden with the spicy fragrance of
jasmins, and the low, musical babble of the fountain had some-
thing very soothing in its sound. With her keen appreciation of
beauty, there was nothing needed to enhance her enjoyment ;
and she ceased to remember her sorrows. Before long, however,
she was startled by the sight of several elegantly dressed ladies,
emerging from the house ; at the same instant a handsome car-
riage, which she had not previously observed, drove from a turn
in the walk and drew up to the door to receive them. Mrs.
Chilton stood on the steps, exchanging smiles and polite nothings,
and as one of the party requested permission to break a sprig of
geranium growing near, she gracefully offered to collect a
bouquet, adding, as she severed some elegant clusters of helio-
trope and jasmin :
" Guy takes inordinate pride in his parterre, arranges and
overlooks all the flowers himself. I often tell him I am jealous
of my beautiful rivals ; they monopolize his leisure so completely."
" Nonsense ! we know to our cost, that you of all others need
fear rivalry from no quarter. There : don't break any more.
What superb taste the doctor has ! This lovely spot comes
nearer my ideal of European elegance than any place I know at
the South. I suppose the fascination of his home makes him
such a recluse ! Why doesn't he visit more ? He neglects us
shamefully 1 He is such a favorite in society too ; only I believe
everybody is rather afraid of him. I shall make a most desperate
effort to charm him, so soon as an opportunity offers. Don't tell
him I said so, though, ' fore-warned, fore-armed/ " All this was
very volubly uttered by a dashing, showy young lady, dressed
in the extreme of fashion, and bearing unmistakable marks
of belonging to beau monde. She extended a hand cased in white
kid, for the flowers, and looked steadily at the lady of the house
as she spoke.
5*
106 BETJLAH.
" I shall not betray your designs, Miss Julia. Guy is a great
lover of the beautiful, and I am not aware that anywhere in the
book of fate is written the decree that he shall not rnarry again.
Take care, you are tearing your lace point on that rose-bush ;
let me disengage it." She stooped to rescue the cobweb wrap-
ping, and looking about her, Miss Julia exclaimed :
"Is that you, Pauline ? Come and kiss me I Why, you look
as unsociable as your uncle, sitting there all alone I"
She extended her hand toward Beulah, who, as may be sup-
posed, made no attempt to approach her. Mrs. Chilton smiled,
and clasping the bracelet on her arm, discovered to her visitor
the mistake.
" Pauline is not at home. That is a little beggarly orphan
Guy took it into his head to feed and clothe, till some opportu-
nity offered of placing her in a respectable home. I have teased
him unmercifully about this display of taste ; asked him what
rank he assigned her in his catalogue of beautiful treasures.' 1
She laughed as if much amused.
" Oh, that reminds me that I heard some of the school-girls
say that the doctor had adopted an orphan. I thought I would
ask you about it. Mother here declared that she knew it could
not be so, but I told her he was so very odd, there was no ac-
counting for his notions. So he has not adopted her."
" Pshaw 1 of course not I She was a wretched little object of
charity, and Guy brought her here to keep her from starving.
He picked her up at the hospital, I believe."
" I knew it must be a mistake. Come, Julia, remember you
are going out to-night, and it is quite late. Do come very soon,
my dear Mrs. Chilton." Mrs. Vincent, Miss Julia, and their
companions entered the carriage, and were soon out of sight.
Beulah still sat at the fountain. She would gladly have retreated
on the appearance of the strangers, but could not effect an escape
without attracting the attention she so earnestly desired to be
spared, and therefore kept her seat. Every word of the conver-
sation, which had been carried on in anything but a subdued
BEULAH. 107
tone, reached her, and though the head was unbowed as if she
had heard nothing, her face was dyed with shame. Her heart
throbbed violently, and as the words, " beggarly orphan," '
" wretched object of charity," fell on her ears, it seemed as if a
fierce fire-bath had received her. As the carriage disappeared,
Mrs. Chilton approached her, and stung to desperation by the
merciless taunts, she instantly rose and confronted her. Never
had she seen the widow look so beautiful, and for a moment
they eyed each other.
" What are you doing here, after having been told to keep
out of sight ? answer me 1" She spoke with the inflexible
sternness of a mistress to an offending servant.
" Madam, I am not the miserable beggar you represented me
a moment since ; nor will I answer questions addressed in any
such tone of authority and contempt."
" Indeed ! well, then, my angelic martyr, how do you propose
to help yourself?" answered Mrs. Chilton, laughing, with undis-
guised scorn.
" Doctor Hartwell brought me to his house, of his own
accord ; you know that I was scarcely conscious when I came
into it. He has been very kind to me has offered to adopt me
This you know perfectly well. But I am not in danger of starva-
tion, away from this house. You know that instead of having
been picked up at the hospital, I was earning my living, humble
though it was, as a servant. He offered to adopt me, because
he saw that I was very unhappy ; not because I needed food, or
clothes, as you asserted just now, and as you knew was untrue.
Madam, I have known, ever since my recovery, that you hated
me, and I scorn to accept bounty, nay, even a shelter, where
I am so unwelcome. I have never dreamed of occupying
the place you covet for Pauline. I intended to accept Doctor
Hartwell's kindness, so far as receiving an education, which
would enable me to support myself less laboriously ; but,
madam, I will relieve you of my hated presence. I can live
without any assistance from your family. The despised and
108 BfiULAH.
ridiculed orphan will not remain to annoy you. Oh, you might
have effected your purpose with less cruelty ! You could have
told me kindly that you did not want ine here, and I would
not have wondered at it. But to crush me publicly, as you have
done " wounded pride stifled the trembling accents.
Mrs. Chilton bit her lip. She had not expected this expres-
sion of proud independence ; and seeing that she had gone too
far, pondered the best method of rectifying the mischief with as
little compromise of personal dignity as possible. Ultimately to
eject her, she had intended from the first ; but perfectly con-
scious that her brother would accept no explanation or palliation
of the girl's departure at this juncture, and that she and Pauline
would soon follow her from the house, she felt that her own
interest demanded the orphan's presence for a season. Nearly
blinded by tears of indignation and mortification, Beulah turned
from her, but the delicate white hand arrested her, and pressed
heavily on her shoulder. She drew herself up, and tried to
ohake off the hold, but firm as iron was the grasp of the snowy
fingers, and calm and cold as an Arctic night was the tone which
said :
" Pshaw I girl, are you mad ? You have sense enough to
know that you are one too many in this house, but if you only
desire to be educated, as you profess, why, I am perfectly willing
that you should remain here. The idea of your growing up as
my brother's heiress and adopted child was too preposterous to
be entertained, and you can see the absurdity yourself ; but so
long as you understand matters properly, and merely desire to
receive educational advantages, of course you can and will re-
main. I do not wish this to go any further, and, as a sensible
girl, you will not mention it. As a friend, however, I would
suggest that you should avoid putting yourself in the way of
observation." As she concluded, she quietly brushed off a small
spider, which was creeping over Beulah's sleeve.
" Don't trouble yourself, madam ; I am not at all afraid of
poisonous things ; I have become accustomed to them."
BEULAH. 109
Smiling bitterly, she stooped to pick up her new bonnet, which
had fallen on the grass at her feet, and fixing her eyes defiantly
on the handsome face before her, said, resolutely :
"No ! contemptible as you think me, beggarly and wretched
as you please to term me, I have too much self-respect to stay a
day longer, where I have been so grossly, so needlessly insulted.
You need not seek to detain me. Take your hand off my arm :
I am going now ; the sooner, the better. I understand, madam,
your brother will not countenance your cruelty, and you are
ashamed for him to know what, in his absence, you were not
ashamed to do. I scorn to retaliate 1 He shall not learn from
me why I left so suddenly. Tell him what you choose."
Mrs. Chilton was very pale, and her lips were compressed till
they grew purple. Clinching her hand, she said under her
breath :
"You artful little wretch. Am I to be thwarted by such a
mere child ? You shall not quit the house. Go to your room,
and don't make a fool of yourself. In future I shall not concern
myself about you, if you take root at the front door. Go in, and
let matters stand. I promise you I will not interfere again, no
matter what you do. Do you hear me ?"
" No. You have neither the power to detain, nor to expel
me. I shall leave here immediately, and you need not attempt
to coerce me ; for, if you do, I will acquaint Doctor Hartwell
with the whole affair, as soon as he comes, or when I see him. I
am going for my clothes ; not those you so reluctantly had made,
but the old garments I wore when I worked for my bread."
She shook off the detaining hand, and went up to her room.
Harriet had already lighted her lamp, and as she entered the
door, the rays fell brightly on the picture she had learned to love
so well. Now she looked at it through scalding tears, and, to
her excited fancy, the smile seemed to have faded from the lips
of Hope, and the valley looked more dreary, and the pilgrims
more desolate and miserable. She turned from it, and taking off
the clothes she wore, dressed herself in the humble apparel of
110 BEULAH.
former days. The old trunk was scarcely worth keeping, save
as a relic ; and folding up the clothes and books into as small a
bundle as possible, she took it in her arms, and descended the
steps. She wished very much to tell Harriet good bye, and
thank her for her unvarying kindness ; and now, on the eve of
her departure, she remembered the words whispered during her
illness, and the offer of assistance when she " got into trouble,"
as Harriet phrased it ; but dreading to meet Mrs. Chilton again,
she hurried down the hall, and left the house. The friendly stars
looked kindly down upon the orphan, as she crossed the common,
and proceeded toward the Asylum, and raising her eyes to the
jewelled dome, the solemn beauty of the night hushed the wild
tumult in her heart, and she seemed to hear the words pro-
nounced from the skyey depths : " Lo, I am with, you always,
even unto the end." Gradually, the results of the step she had
taken obtruded themselves before her, and with a keen pang of
pain and grief, came the thought, " what will Dr. Hartwell think
of me ?" All his kindness during the time she had passed
beneath his roof, his genial tones, his soft, caressing touch on her
head, his rare, but gentle smile, his constant care for her comfort
and happiness, all rushed like lightning over her mind, and made
the hot tears gush over her face. Mrs. Chilton would, of course,
offer him some plausible solution of her sudden departure. He
would think her ungrateful, and grow indifferent to her welfare
or fate. Yet hope whispered, " he will suspect the truth ; he
must know his sister's nature ; he will not blame me." But all
this was in the cloudy realm of conjecture, and the stern realities
of her position weighed heavily on her heart. Through Dr
Hartwell, who called to explain her sudden disappearance, Mrs.
Martin had sent her the eighteen dollars due for three months
service, and this little sum was all that she possessed. As she
walked on, pondering the many difficulties which attended the
darling project of educating herself thoroughly, the lights of the
Asylum greeted her, and it was with a painful sense of desolation
that she mounted the steps, and stood upon the threshold, where
BEULAH. Ill
she and Lilly had so often sat, in years gone by. Mrs. Williams
met her at the door, wondering what unusual occurrence induced
a visitor at this unseasonable hour. The hall lamp shone on her
kind, but anxious face, and as Beulah looked at her, remembered
care and love caused a feeling of suffocation, and with an excla-
mation of joy, she threw her arms around her. Astonished at a
greeting so unexpected, the matron glanced hurriedly at the face
pressed against her bosom, and recognizing her quondam charge,
folded her tenderly to her heart.
" Beulah, dear child, I am so glad to see you !" As she kissed
her white cheeks, Beulah felt the tears dropping down upon
them.
" Come into my room, dear, and take off your bonnet." She
led her to the quiet little room, and took the bundle, and the
antiquated bonnet, which Pauline declared " Mrs. Noah had
worn all through the forty days' shower."
" Mrs. Williams, can I stay here with you until I can get a
place somewhere ? The managers will not object, will they ?"
" No, dear, I suppose not. But, Beulah, I thought you had
been adopted, just after Lilly died, by Doctor Hartwell ? Here
I have been, ever since I heard it from some of the managers,
thinking how lucky it was for you, and feeling so thankful to
God, for remembering his orphans. Child, what has happened ?
Tell me freely, Beulah."
With her head on the matron's shoulder, she imparted enough
of what had transpired to explain her leaving her adopted home.
Mrs. Williams shook her head, and said, sadly :
"You have been too hasty, child. It was Doctor Hartwell's
house ; he had taken you to it, and without consulting, and
telling him, you should not have left it. If you felt that you
could not live there in peace, with his sister, it was your duty to
have told him so, and then decided as to what course you would
take. Don't be hurt, child, if I tell you you are too proud.
Poverty and pride make a bitter lot in this world ; and take care
you don't let your high spirit ruin your prospects. I don't m<an
112 BEULAH.
to say, dear, that you ought to bear insult and oppression, but
I do think you owed it to the doctor's kindness, to have waited
until his return, before you quitted his house."
" Oh, you do not know him ! If he knew all that Mrs.
Chilton said and did, he would turn her and Pauline out of the
house immediately. They are poor, and, but for him, could not
live without toil. I have no right to cause their ruin. She is
his sister, and has a claim on him. I have none. She expects
Pauline to inherit his fortune, and could not bear to think of his
adopting me. I don't wonder at that so much. But she need
not have been so cruel, so insulting. I don't want his money, or
his house, or his elegant furniture. I only want an education,
and his advice, and his kind care for a few years. I like Pauline
very much indeed. She never treated me at all unkindly ; and
I could not bear to bring misfortune on her, she is so happy."
" That is neither here nor there. He will not hear the truth,
of course ; and even if he did, he will not suppose you were
actuated by any such Christian motives, to shield his sister's
meanness. You ought to have seen him first."
" Well, it is all over now, and I see I must help myself. I
want to go to the public school, where the tuition is free ; but
fiow can I support myself in the meantime ? Eighteen dollars
would not board me long, and, besides, I shall have to buy
clothes." She looked up, much perplexed, in the matron's
anxious face. The latter was silent a moment, and then said :
11 Why, the public school closes in a few weeks ; the next
session will not begin before autumn, and what could you do
until then ? No, I will just inform Dr. Hartwell of the truth
of the whole matter. I think it is due him, and "
"Indeed you must not ! I promised Mrs. Chilton that I
would not implicate her, and your doing it would amount to the
same thing. I would not be the means of driving Pauline out of
her uncle's house, for all the gold in California."
" Silly child. What on earth possessed you to promise any
such thing ?"
BEULAH. 113
" I wanted her to- see that I was honest in what I said. She
knew that I could, by divulging the whole affair, turn her out of
the house (for Dr. Hartwell's disposition is a secret to no one
who has lived in his home), and I wished to show her that I told
the truth, in saying I only wanted to be educated for a teacher."
" Suppose the doctor comes here, and asks you about the
matter ?"
" I shall tell him that I prefer not being dependent on any
one. But he will not come. He does not know where I am."
Yet the dread that he would, filled her mind with new anxieties.
" Well, well, it is no use to fret over what can't be undone.
I wish I could help you, but I don't see any chance just now."
11 Could not I get some plain sewing ? Perhaps the managers
would give me work ?"
" Ah, Beulah, it would soon kill you, to have to sew for your
living."
" No, no, I can bear more than you think," answered the girl,
with a dreary smile.
" Yes, your spirit can endure more than your body. Your
father died with consumption, child ; but don't fret about it any
more to night. Come, get some supper, and then go to sleep.
You will stay in my room, with me, dear, till something can be
done to assist you."
" Mrs. Williams, you must promise me that you never will
speak of what I have told you, regarding that conversation with
Mrs. Chilton."
" I promise you, dear, I never will mention it, since you prefer
keeping the matter secret."
" What will Dr. Hartwell think of me ?" was the recurring
thought, that would not be banished ; and, unable to sleep, Beulah
tossed restlessly on her pillow all night, dreading lest he should
despise her for her segming ingratitude.
114: B E U L A H
CHAPTER XI.
FOR perhaps two hours after Beulah's departure, Mrs. Chilton
wandered up and down the parlors, revolving numerous schemes,
explanatory of her unexpected exodus. Completely nonplused,
for the first time in her life, she sincerely rued the expression of
dislike and contempt which had driven the orphan from her
adopted home ; and, unable to decide on the most plausible
solution to be offered her brother, she paced, restlessly, to and
fro. Engrossed by no particularly felicitous reflections, she failed
to notice Mazeppa's quick tramp, and remained in ignorance of
the doctor's return, until he entered the room, and stood beside
her. His manner was hurried, his thoughts evidently preoccu-
pied, as he said :
" May, I am going into the country to be absent all of to-
morrow, and possibly longer. There is some surgical work to
be performed for a careless hunter, and I must start immediately.
I want you to see that a room is prepared for Percy Lockhart.
He is very feeble, and I have invited him to come and stay with
me while he is in the city. He rode out this evening, and is
worse from the fatigue. I shall expect you to see that every-
thing is provided for him that an invalid could desire. Can I
depend upon you ?"
" Certainly ; I will exert myself to render his stay here
pleasant ; make yourself easy on that score." It was very evi-
dent that the cloud was rapidly lifting from her heart and
prospects ; but she veiled the sparkle in her eye, and unsuspi-
cious of anything amiss, her brother left the, room. Walking up
to one of the mirrors, which extended from floor to ceiling, she
surveyed herself carefully, and a triumphant smile parted her
lips.
BETJLAH. 115
" Percy Lockhart is vulnerable as well as other people, and I
have yet to see the man whose heart will proudly withstand the
allurements of flattery, provided the homage is delicately and
gracefully offered. Thank heaven ! years have touched me
lightly, and there was more truth than she relished in what
Julia Yiiicent said about my beauty I"
This self-complacent soliloquy was cut short by the appear-
ance of her brother, who carried a case of surgical instruments
in his hand.
" May, tell Beulah I am sorry I did not see her. I would go
up and wake her, but have not time. She wished to ask me
something. Tell her, if it is anything of importance, to do just
as she likes ; I will see about it when I come home. Be sure
you tell her. Good night ; take care of Percy." He turned
away, but she exclaimed :
" She is not here, Guy. She asked me this evening if she
might spend the night at the Asylum. She thought you
would not object, and certainly I had no authority to prevent
her. Indeed the parlor was full of company, and I told her she
might go if she wished. I suppose she will be back early in
the morning."
His face darkened instantly, and she felt that he was search-
ing her with his piercing eyes.
" All this sounds extremely improbable to me. If she is not
at home again at breakfast, take the carnage and go after her.
Mind, May 1 I will sift the whole matter when I come back."
He hurried off, and she breathed freely once more. Dr. Hart-
well sprang into his buggy, to which a fresh horse had been
attached, and dismissing Hal, whose weight would only have
retarded his progress, he drove rapidly off. The gate had been
left open for him, and he was passing through, when arrested
by Harriet's well-known voice.
" Stop, master ! Stop a minute !"
" What do you want ? I can't stop !" cried he impatiently.
" Are you going after that poor, motherless child ?"
116 BEULAH.
" No. But what the devil is to pay here ? I shall get at the
truth now. Where is Beulah ? talk fast."
" She is at the Asylum to-night, sir. I followed and watched
the poor, little thing. Master, if you don't listen to me, if you
please, sir, you never will get at the truth, for that child won't
tell it. I heard her promise Miss May she would not. You
would be ready to fight if you knew all I know."
" Why did Beulah leave here this evening ?"
" Because Miss May abused and insulted her ; told her before
some ladies that she was a "miserable beggar" that you picked
up at the hospital, and that you thought it was charity to feed
and clothe her till she was big enough to work. The ladies were
in the front yard, and the child happened to be sitting by the
fountain ; she had just come from riding. I was sewing at one
of the windows up-stairs, sir, and heard every word. When the
folks were gone, Miss May walks up to her and asks her what
she is doing where anybody could see her ? Oh, master ! if you
could have seen that child's looks. She fairly seemed to rise off
her feet, and her face was as white as a corpse. She said she
had wanted an education ; that she knew you had been very
kind ; but she never dreamed of taking Miss Pauline's place in
your house. She said she would not stay where she was unwel-
come ; that she was not starving when you took her home ; that
she knew yon were kind and good ; but that she scorned them
were the very words, master she scorned to stay a day longer
where she had been so insulted ! Oh, she was in a towering
rage ; she trembled all over, and Miss May began to be scared,
for she knew you would not suffer such doings, and sin*. ;ried to
pacify her and make up the quarrel by telling her hho might
stay and have an education, if that was all she wanted. But
the girl would not hear to anything she said, and told her she
need not be frightened, that she wouldn't go to you with the
fuss ; she would not tell you why she left your house. She went
to her room and she got every rag of her old clothes, and left.
the house with the tears raining out of her eyes. Oh, master,
BEULAII. 117
it's a crying shame ! If you had only been here to hear that
child talk to Miss May. Good Lord ! how her big eyes did
blaze when she told her she could earn a living I"
By the pale moonlight she could see that her master's face
was rigid as steel ; but his voice was even calmer than usual,
when he asked :
" Are you sure she is now at the Asylum ?"
"Yes, sir ; sure."
" Very well ; she is safe then for the present. Does any one
know that you heard the conversation ?"
" Not a soul, sir, except yourself."
" Keep the matter perfectly quiet till I come home. I shall
be away a day, or perhaps longer; meantime, see that Beulah
does not get out of your sight. Do you understand me ?"
11 Yes, sir I do."
The buggy rolled swiftly on, and Harriet returned to the
house by a circuitous route, surmising that " Miss May's " eyes
might detect her movements.
The same night, Clara Sanders sat on the door-step of her
humble cottage home. The moonlight crept through the clus-
tering honeysuckle and silvered the piazza floor with grotesque
fret-work, while it bathed lovingly the sad face'' of the girlish
watcher. Her chin rested in her palms, and the soft eyes were
bent anxiously on the countenance of her infirm and aged
companion.
" Grand-pa, don't look so troubled. I am very sorry, too,
about the diploma ; but if I am not to have it, why, there is no
use in worrying about it. Madam St. Cymon is willing to
employ me as I am, and certainly I should feel grateful for her
preference, when there are several applicants for the place. She
told me this evening that she thought I would find no difficulty
in performing what would be required of me."
This was uttered in a cheerful tone, which might have suc-
ceeded very well, had the sorrowful face been veiled.
118 BEULAH.
" Ah, Clara, you don't dream of the burden you are taking
upon yourself ! The position of assistant teacher, in an estab-
lishment like Madam St. Cymon's, is one that you are by nature
totally unfitted for. Child, it will gall your spirit ; it will be
unendurable." The old man sighed heavily.
" Still, I have been educated with an eye to teaching, and
though I am now to occupy a very subordinate place, the trials
will not be augmented. On the whole, I do not know but it is
best as it is. Do not try to discourage me. It is all I can do,
and I am determined I will not despond about what can't be
helped."
" My dear child, I did not mean to depress you. But you are
so young to bow your neck to such a yoke ! How old are you ?"
He turned round to look at her.
"Only sixteen and a few months. Life is before me -yet, an
untrodden plain. Who knows but this narrow path of duty
may lead to a calm, sweet resting-place for us both ? I was
thinking just now of that passage from your favorite Wallen-
stein : ' My soul's secure ! In the night only, Friedland's stars can
learn. 1 The darkness has come down upon us, grand-pa; let us
wait patiently for the uprising of stars. I am not afraid of the
night."
There was silence for some moments ; then the old man rose,
and, putting back the white locks which had fallen over his face,
asked, in a subdued tone :
" When will you commence your work ?"
" To-morrow, sir."
" God bless you, Clara, and give you strength, as he sees you
have need." He kissed her fondly, and withdrew to his own
room. She sat for some time looking vacantly at the mosaic of
light and shade on the floor before her, and striving to divest
her mind of the haunting thought that she was the victim of
some unyielding necessity, whose decree had gone forth, and
might not be annulled. In early childhood her home had been
one of splendid affluence ; but reverses came, thick and fast, as
BEULAH. 119
misfortunes ever do, and, ere she could realize the swift transi-
tion, penury claimed her family among its crowding legions.
Discouraged and embittered, her father made the wine-cup the
sepulchre of care, and in a few months found a deeper and far
more quiet grave. His mercantile embarrassments had dragged
his father-in-law to ruin ; and, too aged to toil up the steep
again, the latter resigned himself to spending the remainder of
his days in obscurity, and perhaps want. To Clara's gifted
mother, he looked for aid and comfort in the clouded evening
of life, and with unceasing energy she toiled to shield her father
and her child from actual labor. Thoroughly acquainted with
music and drawing, her days were spent in giving lessons in
those branches which had been acquired with reference to
personal enjoyment alone, and the silent hours of the night often
passed in stitching the garments of those who had flocked to
her costly entertainments in days gone by. When Clara was
about thirteen years of age, a distant relative chancing to see her,
kindly proposed to contribute the sum requisite for affording her
every educational advantage. The offer was gratefully accepted
by the devoted mother, and Clara was placed at Madam St.
Cymon's, where more than ordinary attention could be bestowed
on the languages.
The noble woman, whose heart had bled incessantly over the
misery, ruin, and degradation of her husband, sank slowly under
the intolerable burden of sorrows, and a few weeks previous to
the evening of which I write, folded her weary hands and went
home to rest. In the springtime of girlhood, Clara felt herself
transformed into a woman. Standing beside her mother's tomb,
supporting her grandfather's tottering form, she shuddered in
anticipating the dreary future that beckoned her on ; and now
as if there were not troubles enough already to disquiet her,
the annual amount advanced toward her school expenses was
suddenly withdrawn. The cousin, residing in a distant State,
wrote that pecuniary troubles had assailed him, and prevented
all further assistance. In one more year she would have
120 BEULAH.
finished the prescribed course and graduated honorably ; and
more than all, she would have obtained a diploma, which might
have been an " open sesame " to any post she aspired to. Thus
frustrated in her plans, she gladly accepted the position of
assistant teacher in the primary department, which, having
become vacant by the dismissal of the incumbent, madam kindly
tendered her. The salary was limited, of course, but nothing
else presented itself, and quitting the desk, where she had so
often pored over her text-books, she prepared to grapple with
the trials which thickly beset the path of a young woman
thrown upon her own resources for maintenance. Clara was
naturally amiable, unselfish, and trusting. She was no intel-
lectual prodigy, yet her mind was clear and forcible, her judg-
ment matured, and, above all, her pure heart warm and loving.
Notwithstanding the stern realities that marked her path, there
was a vein of romance in her nature which, unfortunately,
attained more than healthful development, and while it often
bore her into the Utopian realms of fancy, it was still impotent
to modify, in any degree, the social difficulties with which she
was forced to contend. Ah, there is a touching beauty in the
radiant up-look of a girl just crossing the limits of youth, and
commencing her journey through the chequered sphere of
womanhood 1 It is all dew-sparkle and morning glory to her
ardent, buoyant spirit, as she presses forward exulting in blissful
anticipations. But the withering heat of the conflict of life
creeps on; the dewdrops exhale, the garlands of hope, shattered
and dead, strew the path, and too often, ere noontide, the clear
brow and sweet smile are exchanged for the weary look of one
longing for the evening rest, the twilight, the night. Oh, may
the good God give his sleep early unto these many !
There was a dawning light in Clara's eyes, which showed that,
though as yet a mere girl in years, she had waked to the con-
sciousness of emotions which belong to womanhood. She was
pretty, and of course she knew it, for I am skeptical of those
characters who grow up to mature beauty, all unsuspicious of
BEULAH. 121
the fatal dower, and are some day startled by a discovery of
their possessions. She knew, too, that female loveliness was an
all-potent spell, and depressing as were the circumstances of her
life and situation, she felt that a brighter lot might be hers,
without any very remarkable or seemingly inconsistent course
of events.
CHAPTER XII.
" HARRIET, bring me a cup of strong coffee."
Dr. Hartwell had returned late in the afternoon of the
second day, and travel-worn and weary, threw himself down on
the sofa in his study. There was a pale severity in his face,
which told that his reflections during his brief absence had
been far from pleasant, and as he swept back the hair from his
forehead, and laid his head on the cushion, the whole counte-
nance bespoke the bitterness of a proud, but miserable man. He
remained for some time, with closed eyes, and when the coffee
was served, drank it without comment. Harriet busied herself
about the room, doing various unnecessary things, and wonder-
ing why her master did not inquire concerning home affairs ;
finally, having exhausted every pretext for lingering, she
coughed very spasmodically once or twice, and putting her hand
on the knob of the door, said deferentially
" Do you want anything else, sir ? The bath-room is all
ready."
" Has my sister been to the Asylum ?"
" No, sir."
11 Go and arrange Beulah's room." ,
She retired; and springing up, he paced the floor, striving to
master the emotion, which so -unwontedly agitated him. His
lips writhed, and the thin nostril expanded, but he paused before
6
122 BEULAH.
the melodeon, sat down and played several pieces, and gradually
the swollen veins on his brow lost their corded appearance, and
the mouth resumed its habitual compression. Then, with an
exterior, as calm as the repose of death, he took his hat, and went
toward the parlor. Mr. Lockhart was reclining on one of the
sofas, Pauline sat on an ottoman near him, looking over a book
of prints, and Mrs. Chilton, tastefully attired, occupied the piano-
stool. Witching strains of music greeted her brother, as he
stopped at the door and looked in. In the mirror opposite, she
saw his image reflected, and for an instant her heart beat
rapidly, but the delicate fingers flew over the keys as skillfully
as before, and only the firm setting of' the teeth betokened the
coming struggle. He entered, and walking up to the invalid,
said cordially.
" How are you, Percy ? better, I hope." While one hand
clasped his friend's, the other was laid with brotherly freedom
on the sick man's head.
" Of course I am. There was no malady in Eden, was there ?
Verily, Guy, in your delightful home, I am growing well again."
" Ah ! so much for not possessing Ithuriel's spear. I am
glad to find you free from fever."
" Howd'y-do, uncle I Don't you see me ?" said Pauline,
reaching up her hand.
"It is always hard to find you, Pauline, you are such a
demure, silent little body," said he, shaking her hand kindly.
" Welcome, Guy ! I expected you yesterday ; what detained
you so long?" Mrs. Chilton approached witlT outstretched
hand, and at the same time offered her lips for a kiss.
He availed himself of neither, but fixing his eyes intently on
hers, said as sweetly as if he had been soothing a fretful child :
"Necessity of course; but now that I have come, I shall
make amends, I promise you, for the delay. Percy, has she
taken good care of you ?"
" She is an admirable nurse; I<can never requite the debt she
has imposed. Is not my convalescence sufficient proof of her
B E U L A H . 123
superior skill ?" Mr. Lockhart raised himself, and leaning on
bis elbow, suffered bis eyes to rest admiringly on tbe graceful
form and faultless features beside him.
"Are you really so much better ?" said Dr. Hartwell, gnaw-
ing his lip.
" Indeed I am ! Why are you so incredulous ? Have you
so little confidence in your own prescriptions ?"
" Confidence ! I had little enough when given, immeasurably
less now. But we will talk of all this after a little. I have
some matters to arrange, and will be with you at tea. May, I
wish to see you."
"Well, Guy, what is it 1" without moving an inch, she
looked up at him.
" Come to my study," answered her brother, quietly.
"And leave your patient to amuse himself? Really, Guy,
you exercise the rites of hospitality so rarely, that you forget
the ordinary requirements. Apropos, your little protegee Ijas
not returned. It seems she did not fancy living here, and pre-
fers staying at the Asylum. I would not trouble myself about
her, if I were you. Some people cannot appreciate kindness,
you know." She uttered this piece of counsel, with perfect sang-
froid, and met her brother's eye as innocently as Pauline would
have done.
" I am thoroughly acquainted with her objections to this place,
and determined to remove them so completely, that she cannot
refuse to return."
A grey pallor crept over his sister's face, but she replied with
her usual equanimity.
" You have seen her, then ? I thought you had hurried back
to your sick friend here, without pausing by the way."
" No I I have not seen her, and you are aware, her volun-
tary promise would seal her lips, even if I had." He smiled
contemptuously, as he saw her puzzled look, and continued :
" Percy will excuse you for a few moments, come with me.
Pauline, entertain this gentleman in our absence."
124: BETJLAH.
She took his offered arm, and they proceeded tc the study in
silence.
" Sit down." Dr. Hartwell pushed a chair toward her, and
stood looking her fully in the face. She did not shrink, and
asked unconcernedly :
" Well, Guy, to what does all this preamble lead ?"
"May, is the doctrine of future punishments laid down as
orthodox, in that elegantly gilded prayer-book you take with
you in your weekly pilgrimages to church ?"
" Come, come, Guy ; if you have no respect for religion,
yourself, don't scoff at its observances in my presence. It is
very unkind, and I will not allow it." She rose, with an air of
offended dignity.
" Scoff ! you wrong me. Why, verily, your religion is too
formidable to suffer the thought. I tell you, sister mine, your
creed is a terrible one in my eyes." He looked at her, with a
smile of withering scorn.
She grew restless under his impaling gaze, and he continued
mockingly :
" From such creeds ! such practice ! Good Lord deliver us !"
She turned to go, but his hand fell heavily on her shoulder.
" I am acquainted with all that passed between Beulah and
yourself the evening she left my house. I was cognizant of the
whole truth before I left the city."
" Artful wretch ! She is as false as contemptible !" muttered
the sister, through set teeth.
" Take care ! do not too hastily apply your own individual
standard of action to others. She does not dream that I am
acquainted with the truth, though doubtless she wonders that,
knowing you so well, I should not suspect it."
"Ah, guided by your favorite Mephistopheles, you wrapped
the mantle of invisibility about you, and heard it all. Eh ?"
" No; Mephistopheles is not ubiquitous, and I left him at home
here, it seems, when I took that child to ride. It is difficult for
me to believe you are my sister 1 very difficult 1 It is the most
B E U L A II . 125
humiliating thought that could possibly be suggested to me.
May, I very nearly decided to send you and Pauline out into the
world without a dime ! without a cent 1 just as I found you,
and I may do so yet "
"You dare not! You dare not I You swore a solemn oath
to the dying that you would always provide for us I I am not
afraid of your breaking your vow 1" cried Mrs. Chilton, leaning
heavily against the table to support herself.
" You give me credit for too much nicety. I tell you I would
break my oath to-morrow, nay, to-night ; for your duplicity can-
cels it, but for that orphan you hate so cordially. She would
never return if you and Pauline suffered for the past ; for her
sake, and hers only, I will still assist, support you, for have her
here I will 1 if it cost me life and fortune ! I would send you off
to the plantation, but there are no educational advantages there
for Pauline ; and therefore, if Beulah returns, 1 have resolved to
buy and give you a separate home, wherever you may prefer.
Stay here, you cannot and shall not 1"
" And what construction will the world place on your taking
a young girl into your house at the time that I leave it ? Guy,
with what marvellous foresight you are endowed I" said she,
laughing sardonically.
" I shall take measures to prevent any improper construction!
Mrs. Watson, the widow of one of my oldest and best friends,
has been left in destitute circumstances, and I shall immediately
offer her a home here, to take charge of my household, and look
after Beulah when I am absent. She is an estimable woman,
past fifty years of age, and her character is so irreproachable,
that her presence here will obviate the objection you have urged.
You will decide to-night where you wish to fix your future resi-
dence, and let me know to-morrow. I shall not give you longer
time for a decision. Meantime, when Beulah returns you will
not allude to the matter. At your peril, May ! I have borne
much from you, but by all that 1 prize, I swear, I will make you
suffer severely if you dare to interfere again. Do not imagine
126 BEULAH.
that I am ignorant of your schemes ! I tell you now, I would
gladly see Percy Lockhart lowered into the grave, rather than
know that you had succeeded in blinding him ! Oh, his noble
nature would loathe you, could he see you as you are. There,
go ! or I shall forget that I am talking to a woman : much less
a woman claiming to be my sister ! Go ! go !" He put up his
hands as if unwilling to look at her, and leaving the room, de-
scended to the front door. A large family-carriage, drawn by
two horses, stood in readiness, and seating himself within it, he
ordered the coachman to drive to the Asylum. Mrs. Williams
met him at the entrance, and despite her assumed composure,
felt nervous and uncomfortable, for his scrutinizing look discon-
certed her.
"Madam, you are the matron of this institution, I presume.
I want to see Beulah Benton."
" Sir, she saw your carriage, and desired me to say to you
that though she was very grateful for your kindness, she did not
wish to burden yon, and preferred remaining here until she could
6nd some position which would enable her to support herself.
She begs you will not insist upon seeing her ; she does not wish
to see you."
" Where is she ? I shall not leave the house until I do see
her."
She saw from his countenance that it was useless to contend.
There was an unbending look of resolve which said plainly, " tell
me where to find her, or I shall search for her at once." Secretly
pleased at the prospect of reconciliation, the matron no longer
hesitated, and pointing to the staircase, said :
" She is in the first right-hand room."
He mounted the steps, opened the door, and entered. Beulah
was standing by the window ; she had recognized his step, and
knew that he was in the room, but felt as if she would not meet
his eye for the universe. Yet there was in her heart an intense
longing to see him again. During the two past days she had
missed his kind manner and grave watchfulness, and now, if she
BE TIL AH. 127
had dared to yield to the impulse that prompted, she would have
sprung to meet him, and caught his hand to her lips. He ap-
proached, and stood looking at the drooped face ; then his soft,
cool touch was on her head, and he said in his peculiar low,
musical tones :
" Proud little spirit, come home and be happy."
She shook her head, saying resolutely :
" I cannot : I have no home. I could not be happy in your
house."
"You can be in future. Beulah, I know the whole truth of
this matter ; how I discovered it is no concern of yours you
have not broken your promise. Now mark me, I make your
return to my house the condition of my sister's pardon. I am
not trifling 1 If you persist in leaving me, I tell you solemnly I
will "send her and Pauline out into the world to work for their
daily bread, as you want to do ! If you will come back, I will
give them a comfortable home of their own wherever they may
prefer to live, and see that they are always well cared for. But
they shall not remain in my house whether you come or not. I
am in earnest ! Look at me ; you know I never say what I do
not mean. I want you to come back ; I ask you to come with
me now. I am lonely ; my home is dark and desolate, come, my
child, come !" He held her hands in his, and drew her gently
toward him. She looked 'eagerly into his face, and as she noted
the stern sadness that marred its noble beauty, the words of his
sister flashed upon her memory: He had been married ! Was it
the loss of his wife that had so darkened his elegant home ?
That gave such austerity to the comparatively youthful face ?
She gazed into the deep eyes till she grew dizzy, and answered
indistinctly :
"I have no claim on you will not be the means of parting
you and your sister. You have Pauline, make her your
child,"
" Henceforth my sister and myself are parted, whether you will
it or not, whether you come back or otherwise. Once for all, if
128 BETJLAH.
you would serve her, come, for on this condition only will I pro-
vide for her. Pauline does not suit me; you do. I can make,
you a friend, in some sort a companion. Beulah, yon want to
come to me; I see it in your eyes; but I see too that you want
conditions; what are they?"
"Will you always treat Pauline just as kindly as if you had
never taken me to your house ?"
" Except having a separate home, she shall never know any
difference. I promise you this. What else ?"
" Will you let me go to the public school instead of Madame
St. Cymon's?"
"Why, pray?"
" Because the tuition is free."
"And you are too proud to accept any aid from me ?"
"No, sir; I want your counsel and guidance, and I want to
be with -you to show you that I do thank you for all your good-
ness; but I want to cost you as little as possible."
" You do not expect to depend on me always, then ?" said he,
smiling despite himself.
"No, sir; only till I am able to teach. If you are willing to
do this, I shall be glad to go back, very glad; but not unless
you are." She looked as firm as her guardian.
"Better stipulate also that you are to wear nothing more
expensive than bit calico." He seemed much amused.
" Indeed, sir, I am not jesting at all. If you will take care
of me while I am educating myself, I shall be very grateful to
you; but I am not going to be adopted."
" Very well. Then I will try to take care of you. I have
signed your treaty; are you ready to come home."
"Yes, sir; glad to come." Her fingers closed confidingly
over his, and they joined Mrs. Williams in the hall below. A
brief explanation from Beulah sufficed for the rejoicing matron,
and soon she was borne rapidly from the Asylum. Dr. Hartwell
was silent until they reached home, and Beulah was going to her
own room, when he asked, suddenly:
BEULAH. 129
" What was it that you wished to ask me about the evening
of the ride ?"
" That I might go to the public school/'
11 What put that into your head ?"
"As a dependent orphan, I am insulted at Madame St,
Cymon's."
" By whom ?" His eyes flashed.
" No matter now, sir."
" By whom? I ask you."
" Not by Pauline. She would scorn to be guilty of anything
so ungenerous."
" You do not mean to answer my question, then ?"
" No, sir; do not ask me to do so, for I cannot."
" Very well. Get ready for tea. Mr. Lockhart is here. One
word more. You need fear no further interference from any one."
He walked on, and glad to be released, Beulah hastened to
her own room, with a strange feeling of joy on entering it again.
Harriet welcomed her warmly, and without alluding to her
absence, assisted in braiding the heavy masses of hair, which
required arranging. Half an hour after, Dr. Hartwell knocked
at the door, and conducted her down-stairs. Mrs. Chilton rose
and extended her hand, with an amicable expression of counte-
nance, for which Beulah was not prepared. She could not bring
herself to accept the hand, but her salutation was gravely polite:
" Good evening, Mrs. Chilton."
Mr. Lockhart made room for her on the sofa; and quietly
ensconced in one corner, she sat for some time so engaged in
listening to the general conversation, that the bitter recollection
of by-gone trials was entirely banished. Dr. Hartwell and his
friend were talking of Europe, and the latter, after recounting
much of interest in connection with his former visits, said ear-
nestly:
" Go with me this time, Guy; one tour cannot have satiated
you. It will be double nay, triple enjoyment, to have you along.
It is, and always has been, a mystery to mo, why you should
6*
130 BEULAH.
persist in practising. You do not need the pecuniary aid; your
income would enable you to live just as you pleased. Life is
short at best; why not glean all of pleasure that travel affords
to a nature like yours ? Your sister was just telling me that
in a few days, she goes North to place Pauline at some cele-
brated school, and without her, you will be desolate. Come,
let's to Europe together; what do you say ?"
Dr. Hartwell received this intimation of his sister's plans
without the slightest token of surprise, and smiled sarcastically
as he replied:
" Percy, I shall answer you in the words of a favorite author
of the day. He says ' it is for want of self culture that the
superstition of travelling, whose idols are Italy, England,
Egypt, retains its fascination for all educated Americans. He
who travels to be amused, or to get somewhat which he
does not carry, travels away from himself, and grows old, even
in youth, among old things. In Thebes, in Palmyra, his will
and mind have become old and dilapidated as they. He carries
ruins to ruins. Travelling is a fool's paradise. At home I dream
that at Naples, at Kome, I can be intoxicated with beauty, and
lose my sadness. I pack my trunk, embark, and finally wake
up in Naples, and there beside me, is the stern fact, the sad,
self, unrelenting, identical, that I fled from. I affect to be
intoxicated with sights, and suggestions, but I am not. My
giant goes with me wherever I go.' Percy, I endeavored to
drown my giant in the Mediterranean ; to bury it forever beneath
the green waters of Lago Maggiore; to hurl it from solemn, icy,
Alpine heights; to dodge it in museums of art; but, as Emerson
says, it clung to me with unerring allegiance, and I came home.
And now, daily, and yearly, I repeat the hopeless experiment,
in my round of professional duties. Yes, May and Pauline are
going away, but I shall have Beulah to look after, and I fancy
time will not drag its wheels through coming years. How soon
do you think of leaving America? I have some commissions
for you when you start."
BEULAH. 131
" I hope I shall be able to go North within a fortnight, and,
after a short visit to Newport or Saratoga, sail for Havre.
What do you want from the great storehouse of art, sculpture,
and paintings, cameos and prints ?"
" I will furnish you with a catalogue. Do you go through
Germany, or only flaunt, butterfly-like, under the sunny skies
of the Levant ?"
" I have, as yet, no settled plans ; but probably before I
return, shall explore Egypt, Syria, and Arabia. Do you want
anything from the dying world? From Dendera, Carnac, or
that city of rock, lonely, silent, awful Petra ?"
" Not I. The flavor of Sodom is too prevalent. But there
are a few localities that I shall ask you to sketch for me." Sub-
sequently, Mr. Lockhart requested Beulah to sing her forest song
for him again. The blood surged quickly into her face, and, not
without confusion, she begged him to excuse her. He insisted,
and tried to draw her from her seat, but, sinking further back
into the corner, she assured him she could not; she never sang,
except when alone. Dr. Hartwell smiled, and, looking at her
curiously, said :
" I never heard her even attempt to sing. Beulah, why will
you not try to oblige him ?"
" Oh, sir 1 my songs are all connected with sorrows. I could
not sing them now ; indeed I could not." And as the memory
of Lilly, hushed by her lullaby, rose vividly before her, she put
her hands over her eyes and wept quietly.
" When you come home from your Oriental jaunt, she will be
able to comply with your request. Meantime, Percy, come into
the study; I want a cigar and game of chess."
Beulah quitted the parlor at the same time, and was mounting
the steps, when she heard Mr. Lockhart ask : " Guy, what are
you going to do with that solemn-looking child ?"
" Going to try to show her that the world is not altogether
made up of brutes." She heard no more, but long after she
laid her head upon the pillow, pondered on the kind fate which
132 B E U L A H .
gave her so considerate, so generous a guardian; and, in the
depths of her gratitude, she vowed to show him that she
reverenced and honored him.
CHAPTER XIII.
THREE years passed swiftly, unmarked by any incidents of
interest, and one dreary night in December, Beulah sat in Dr.
Hartwell's study, wondering what detained him so much later
than usual. The lamp stood on the tea-table, and the urn
awaited the master's return. The room, with its books, statues,
paintings, and melodeon, was unaltered, but time had materially
changed the appearance of the orphan. She had grown tall,
and the mazarine blue merino dress fitted the slender form with
scrupulous exactness. The luxuriant black hair was combed
straight back from the face, and wound into a circular knot,
which covered the entire back of the head, and gave a classical
outline to the whole. The eyelashes were longer and darker,
the complexion had lost its sickly hue, and though there was no
bloom on the cheeks, they were clear and white. I have spoken
before of the singular conformation of the massive brow, and
now the style in which she wore her hair fully exposed the
outline. The large grey eyes had lost their look of bitterness,
but more than ever they were grave, earnest, restless, and
searching ; indexing a stormy soul. The whole countenance
betokened that rare combination of mental endowments, that
habitual train of deep, concentrated thought, mingled with
somewhat of dark passion, which characterizes the eagerly-
inquiring mind that struggles to lift itself far above common
utilitarian themes. The placid element was as wanting in her
physiognomy as in her character, and even the lines of the
BEULAH. 133
mouth gave evidence of strength and restlessness, rather than
peace. Before her lay a book on geometry, and, engrossed by
study, she was unobservant of Dr. HartwelPs entrance. Walk-
ing up to the grate, he warmed his fingers, and then, with his
hands behind him, stood still on the rug, regarding his protegee
attentively. He looked precisely as he had done more than
three years before, when he waited at Mrs. Martin's, watching
little Johnny and his nurse. The colorless face seemed as if
chiselled out of ivory, and stern gravity, blended with bitterness,
was enthroned on the lofty, unfurrowed brow v He looked at
the girl intently, as he would have watched a patient to whom
he had administered a dubious medicine, and felt some curiosity
concerning the result.
" Beulah, put up your book and make the tea, will you ?"
She started up, and seating herself before the urn, said,
joyfully :
" Good evening ! I did not know you had come home. You
look cold, pir."
" Yes, it is deucedly cold ; and, to mend the matter, Mazeppa
must needs slip on the ice in the gutter, and lame himself.
Knew, too, I should want him again to-night." He drew a
chair to the table and received his tea from her hand, for it was
one of his whims to dismiss Mrs. Watson and the servants at
this meal, and have only Beulah present.
" Who is so ill as to require a second visit to-night ?"
She very rarely asked anything relative to his professional
engagements, but saw that he was more than usually inter-
ested.
" Why, that quiet, little Quaker friend of yours, Clara San-
ders, will probably lose her grandfather this time. He had a
second paralytic stroke to-day, and I doubt whether he survives
till morning."
" Are any of Clara's friends with her ?" asked Beulah, quickly.
" Some two or three of the neighbors. What now ?" ne con-
tinued as she rose from the table.
134: BEULAH.
"I am going to get ready and go with you when you
return."
" Nonsense ! The weather is too disagreeable ; and besides,
you can do no good ; the old man is unconscious. Don't think
of it."
" But I must think of it, and what is more, you must carry
me, if you please. I shall not mind the cold, and I know Clara
would rather have me with her, even though I could render no
assistance. Will you carry me ? I shall thank you very much ?"
She stood on the threshold.
" And if I will not carry you ?" he answered questioningly.
" Then, sir, though sorry to disobey you, I shall be^forced to
walk there."
" So I supposed. You may get ready."
' ' Thank you." She hurried off to wrap up for the ride, and
acquaint Mrs. Watson with the cause of her temporary absence.
On reentering the study she found the doctor lying on the sofa,
with one hand over his eyes ; without removing it he tossed a
letter to her, saying :
" There is a iStter from Heidelberg. I had almost forgotten
it. You will have time to read it ; the buggy is not ready."
fle moved his fingers slightly, so as to see her distinctly, while
she tore off the envelope and perused it. At first she looked
pleased ; then the black eyebrows met over the nose, and as she
refolded it, there was a very decided curl in the compressed
upper lip. She put it into her pocket without comment.
" Eugene is well, I suppose ?" said the doctor, still shading his
eyes.
" Yes, sir, quite well."
" Does he seem to be improving his advantages ?"
" I should judge not, from the tone of this letter."
"What does it indicate?"
" That he thinks of settling down into mercantile life on his
return ; as if he needed to go to Germany to learn to keep
books." She spoke hastily and with much chagrin.
BEULAH. 135
" And why not ? Germany is par excellence the land of
book-making, and book-reading ; why not of book-keeping ?"
" German proficiency is not the question, sir."
Dr. Hartwell smiled, and passing his fingers through his hair,
replied :
"You intend to annihilate that plebeian project of his,
then ?"
" Efts own will must govern him, sir ; over that I have no
power."
"Still you will use your influence in favor of a learned pro-
fession ?"
"Yes, sir, if I have any."
" Take care your ambitious pride does not ruin you both '.
There is the buggy. Be so good as to give me my fur gauntlets
out of the drawer of my desk. That will do, come."
The ride was rather silent. Beulah spoke several times, but
was answered in a manner which informed her that her guardian
was in a gloomy mood, and did not choose to talk. He was to
her as inexplicable as ever. She felt that the barrier which
divided them, instead of melting away with long and intimate
acquaintance, had strengthened and grown impenetrable. Kind
but taciturn, she knew little of his opinions on any of the great
questions which began to agitate her own mind. For rather
more than three years they had spent their evenings together ;
she in studying, he in reading or writing. Of his past life she
knew absolutely nothing, for no unguarded allusion to it ever
escaped his lips. As long as she had lived in his house, he had
never mentioned his wife's name, and but for his sister's words
she would have been utterly ignorant of his marriage. Whether
the omission was studied, or merely the result of abstraction, she
could only surmise. Once, when sitting around the fire, a piece
of crape fell upon the hearth from the shrouded portrait. He
stooped down, picked it up, and without glancing at the picture^
threw the fragment into the grate. She longed to see the covered
face, but dared not unfasten the sable folds, which had grown
136 BEULAH.
rusty with age. Sometimes she fancied her presence annoyed
him ; but if she absented herself at all during the evening, he
invariably inquired the cause. He had most scrupulously avoided
all reference to matters of faith ; she had endeavored several
times to direct the conversation to religious topics, but he adroitly
eluded her efforts, and abstained from any such discussion ; and
though on Sabbath she generally accompanied Mrs. Watson to
church, he never alluded to it. Occasionally, when more than
ordinarily fatigued by the labors of the day, he had permitted
her to read aloud to him from some of his favorite volumes, and
these brief glimpses had given her an intense longing to pursue the
same paths of investigation. She revered and admired him ; nay,
she loved him ; but it was more earnest gratitude than genuine
affection. Love casteth out fear, and most certainly she feared
him. She had entered her seventeenth year, and feeling that she
was no longer a child, her pride sometimes rebelled at the calm,
commanding manner he maintained toward her.
They found Clara kneeling beside her insensible grandfather,
while two or three middle-aged ladies sat near the hearth, talking
in under tones. Beulah put her arms tenderly around her friend
ere she was aware of her presence, and the cry of blended woe
and gladness, with which Clara threw herself on Beulah's bosom,
told her how well-timed that presence was. Three years of
teaching and care had worn the slight young form, and given a
troubled, strained, weary look to the fair face. Thin, pale, and
tearful, she clung to Beulah, and asked, in broken accents, what
would become of her when the aged sleeper was no more.
" Our good God remains to you, Clara. I was a shorn lamb,
and he tempered the winds for me. I was very miserable, but
he did not forsake me."
Clara looked at the tall form of the physician, and while her
eyes rested upon him with a species of fascination, she mur-
mured :
"Yes, you have been blessed indeed ! You have him. He
guards and cares for your happiness, but I, oh I am alone 1"
BEULAH. 137
" You told me lie had promised to be your friend. Kest
assured he will prove himself such," answered Beulah, watching
Clara's countenance as she spoke.
" Yes, I know ; but " She paused, and averted her head,
for just then he drew near, and said gravely :
" Beulah, take Miss Clara to her own room, and persuade her
to rest. I shall remain probably all night ; at least until some
change takes place."
" Don't send me away," pleaded Clara, mournfully.
" Go, Beulah, it is for her own good." She saw that he was
unrelenting, and complied without opposition. In the seclusion
of her room she indulged in a passionate burst of grief, and think-
ing it was best thus vented, Beulah paced up and down the floor,
listening now to the convulsive sobs, and now to the rain which
pelted the window-panes. She was two years younger than her
companion, yet felt that she was immeasurably stronger. Often
during their acquaintance, a painful suspicion had crossed her
mind ; as often she had banished it, but now it haunted her
with a pertinacity which she could not subdue. While her feet
trod the chamber floor, memory trod the chambers of the past,
and gathered up every link which could strengthen the chain of
evidence. Gradually dim conjecture became sad conviction, and
she was conscious of a degree of pain and sorrow for which she
could not readily account. If Clara loved Dr. Hartwell, why
should it grieve her ? Her step grew nervously rapid, and the
eyes settled upon the carpet with a fixedness of which she was
unconscious. Suppose he was double her age, if Clara loved him
notwithstanding, what business was it of hers ? Besides, no one
would dream of the actual disparity in years, for he was a very
handsome man, and certainly did not look more than ten years
older. True, Clara was not very intellectual, and he was parti-
cularly fond of literary pursuits ; but had not she heard him say
that it was A singular fact in anthropology, that men selected
their opposites for wives ? She did not believe her guardian ever
thought of Clara save when in her presence. But how did she
138 BEULAH.
know anything about his thoughts and fancies, his likes and dis-
likes ? He had never even spoken of his marriage was it pro-
bable that the subject of a second love would have escaped him?
All this passed rapidly in her mind, and when Clara called her to
sit down on the couch beside her, she started as from a painful
dream. While her friend talked sadly of the future, Beulah analyzed
her features, and came to the conclusion that it would be a very easy
matter to love her ; the face was so sweet and gentle, the manner
so graceful, the tone so musical and winning. Absorbed in
thought, neither noted the lapse of time. Midnight passed ; two
o'clock came ; and then at three, a knock startled the watchers.
Clara sprang to the door ; Dr. Hartwell pointed to the sick
room, and said gently :
"He has ceased to suffer. He is at rest."
She looked at him vacantly, an instant, and whispered, under
her breath : " He is not dead ?"
He did not reply, and with a frightened expression, she glided
into the chamber of death, calling piteously on the sleeper to
come back and shield her. Beulah would have followed, but
the doctor detained her.
" Not yet, child. Not yet."
As if unconscious of the act, he passed his arm around her
shoulders, and drew her close to him. She looked up in astonish-
ment, but his eyes were fixed on the kneeling figure in the room
opposite, and she saw that, just then, he was thinking of any-
thing else than her presence.
" Are you going home now, sir ?"
" Yes, but you must stay with that poor girl yonder. Can't
you prevail on her to come and spend a few days with you ?"
" I rather think not," answered Beulah, resolved not to try.
" You look pale, my child. Watching is not good for you.
It is a long time since you have seen death. Strange that people
will not see it as it is. Passing strange."
"What do you mean?" said she, striving to interpret the
smile that wreathed his lips.
BEULAH. 139
" You will not believe if I tell you. ' Life is but the germ of
Death, and Death the development of a higher Life} "
" Higher in the sense of heavenly immortality ?"
" You may call it heavenly if you choose. Stay here till the
funeral is over, and I will send for you. Are you worn out,
child ?" He had withdrawn his arm, and now looked anxiously
at her colorless face.
" No, sir."
" Then why are you so very pale ?"
" Did you ever see me, sir, when I was anything else ?"
" I have seen you look less ghostly. Good bye." He left the
house without even shaking hands.
The day which succeeded was very gloomy, and after the
funeral rites had been performed, and the second day looked in,
Beulah's heart rejoiced at the prospect of returning home.
Clara shrank from the thought of being left alone, the little cot-
tage was so desolate. She would give it up now, of course, and
find a cheap boarding-house ; but the furniture must be rubbed,
and sent down to an auction room, and she dreaded the separa-
tion from all the objects which linked her with the past.
" Clara, I have been commissioned to invite you to spend
several days with me, until you can select a boarding-house. Dr.
Hartwell will be glad to have you come."
" Did he say so ?" asked the mourner, shading her face with
her hand.
"He told me I must briug you home with me," answered
Beulah.
"Oh, how good, how noble he is 1 Beulah, you are lucky,
lucky indeed." She dropped her head on her arms.
" Clara, I believe there is less difference in our positions than
you seem to imagine. We are both orphans, and in about a year
I too shall be a teacher. Dr. Hartwell is my guardian and pro-
tector, but he will be a kind friend to you also."
c< Beulah, you are mad, to dream of leaving him, and turning
teacher ! I am older than you, and have travelled over the very
140 B E U L A H .
track that you are so eager to set out upon. Oh, take my
advice ; stay where you are ! Would you leave summer sun-
shine for the icebergs of Arctic night ? Silly girl, appreciate
your good fortune.' 7
" Can it be possible, Clara, that you are fainting so soon ?
Where are all your firm resolves ? If it is your duty, what
matter the difficulties ?" She looked down, pityingly, on her
companion, as in olden time one of the athletas might have done
upon a drooping comrade.
" Necessity knows no conditions, Beulah. I have no alterna-
tive but to labor in that horrible treadmill round, day after day.
You are more fortunate ; can have a home, of elegance, luxury
and "
" And dependence 1 Would you be willing to change places
with me, and indolently wait for others to maintain you ?"
interrupted Beulah, looking keenly at the wan, yet lovely face
before her.
" Ah, gladly, if I had been selected as you were. Once, I
too felt hopeful and joyous ; but now life is dreary, almost a bur-
den. Be warned, Beulah, don't suffer your haughty spirit to
make you reject the offered home that may be yours."
There was a strong approach to contempt in the expression
with which Beulah regarded her, as the last words were uttered,
and she answered coldly :
" You are less a woman than I thought you, if you would be
willing to live on the bounty of others when a little activity
would enable you to support yourself."
"Ah, Beulah! it is not only the bread you eat. or the
clothes that you wear ; it is sympathy and kindness, ^\-& and
watchfulness. It is this that a woman wants. Oh ! was her
heart made, think you, to be filled with grammars and geogra-
phies, and copy books ? Can the feeling that you are independ-
ent and doing your duty, satisfy the longing for other idols ?
Oh ! Duty is an icy shadow. It will freeze you. It cannot fill
the heart's sanctuary. Woman was intended as a pet plant, to
B E U L A H . 141
be guarded and cherished ; isolated and uncared for, she droops,
languishes and dies." Ah ! the dew-sparkle had exhaled, and
the morning glory had vanished ; the noontide heat of the con-
flict was creeping on, and she was sinking down, impotent to
continue the struggle.
" Clara Sanders, I don't believe one word of all this languish-
ing nonsense. As to my being nothing more nor less than a
sickly geranium, I know better. If you have concluded that you
belong to that dependent family of plants, I pity you sincerely,
and beg that you will not put me in any such category. Diity
may be a cold shadow to you, but it is a vast volcanic agency,
constantly impelling me to action. What was my will given to
me for, if to remain passive and suffer others to minister to its
needs ? Don't talk to me about woman's clinging, dependent
nature. You are opening your lips to repeat that senseless
simile of oaks and vines ; I don't want to hear it ; there are no
creeping tendencies about me. You can wind, and lean, and
hang on somebody else if you like ; but I feel more like one of
those old pine-trees, yonder. I can stand up. Very slim, if you
will, but straight and high. Stand by myself ; battle with wind
and rain, and tempest roar ; be swayed and bent, perhaps, iu
the storm, but stand unaided, nevertheless. I feel humbled
when I hear a woman bemoaning the weakness of her sex, in-
stead of showing that she has a soul and mind of her own.
inferior to none."
" All that sounds very heroic in the pages of a novel, but the
reality is quite another matter. A tame, joyless, hopeless time
you will have if you scorn good fortune, as you threaten, and go
into the world to support yourself," answered Clara, impatiently.
" I would rather struggle with her for a crust than hang on
her garments asking a palace. I don't know what has come
over you. You are strangely changed," cried Beulah, pressing
her hands on her friend's shoulders.
" The same change will come over you when you endure what
I have. With all your boasted strength, you are but a woman ;
142 B E U L A H .
have a woman's heart, and one day wilt be unable to hush its
hungry cries."
" Then I will crush it ; so help me Heaven !" answered
Beulali.
" No ! sorrow will do that time enough ; no suicidal effort
will be necessary." For the first time, Beulah marked an expres-
sion of bitterness in the usually gentle, quiet countenance. She
was pained more than she chose to evince, and seeing Dr.
HartwelPs carriage at the door, prepared to return home.
" Tell him that I am very grateful for his kind offer : that his
friendly remembrance is dear to a bereaved orphan. Ah,
Beulah ! I have known him from my childhood, and he has
always been a friend as well as a physician. During my
mother's long illness, he watched her carefully and constantly,
and when we tendered him the usual recompense for his services,
he refused all remuneration, declaring he had only been a friend.
He knew we were poor, and could ill afford any expense. Oh,
do you wonder that I . Are you going immediately ?
Come often when I get to a boarding-house. Do, Beulah ! I am
so desolate ; so desolate." She bowed her head on Beulah's
shoulder, and wept unrestrainedly.
" Yes, I will come as often as I can ; and, Clara, do try to
cheer up. I can't bear to see you sink down in this way." She
kissed the tearful face, and hurried away.
It was Saturday, and retiring to her own room, she answered
Eugene's brief letter. Long before, she had seen with painful
anxiety, that he wrote more and more rarely, and while his
communications clearly conveyed the impression, that he fancied
they were essential to her happiness, the protective tenderness
of early years, gave place to a certain commanding, yet conde-
scending tone. Intuitively perceiving, yet unable to analyze this
gradual revolution of feeling, Beulah was sometimes tempted to
cut short the correspondence. But her long and ardent attach-
ment drowned the whispers of wounded pride, and hallowed
memories of his boyish love, ever prevented an expression of the
B E U L A H . 143
pain and wonder, with which she beheld the alteration in his
character. Unwilling to accuse him of the weakness, which
prompted much of his arrogance and egotism, her heart framed
various excuses for his seeming coldness. At first she had
written often, and without reference to ordinary epistolary debts,
but now she regularly waited (and that for some time) for the
arrival of his letters ; not from a diminution of affection, so
much as from true womanly delicacy, lest she should obtrude
herself too frequently upon his notice. More than once she had
been troubled by a dawning consciousness of her own superi-
ority, but accustomed for years to look up to him as a sort of
infallible guide, she would not admit the suggestion, and tried
to keep alive the admiring respect, with which she had been
wont to defer to his judgment. He seemed to consider his
dogmatic dictation both acceptable and necessary, and it was
this assumed mastery, unaccompanied with manifestations
of former tenderness, which irritated and aroused her pride.
With the brush of youthful imagination she had painted
him as the future statesman gifted, popular, and revered ;
and while visions of his fame and glory flitted before her
the promise of sharing all with her was by no means the
least fascinating feature in her fancy picture. Of late, how-
ever, he had ceased to speak of the choice of a profession, and
mentioned vaguely Mr. Graham's wish that he should ac-
quaint himself thoroughly with French, German, and Spanish,
in order to facilitate the correspondence of the firm with
foreign houses. She felt that once embarked on the sea of
mercantile life, he would have little leisure or inclination to
pursue the paths which she hoped to travel by his side, and, on
this occasion, her letter was longer and more earnest than usual,
urging his adherence to the original choice of the law, and
using every forcible argument she could adduce. Finally, the
reply was sealed and directed, and she went down to the study
to place it in the marble receiver which stood on her guardian's
desk. Hal, who accompanied the doctor in his round of visits,
144 BEULAH.
always took their letters to the post-office, and punctually
deposited all directed to them in the vase. To her sur-
prise she found no fire in the grate. The blinds were drawn
closely, and in placing her letter on the desk, she noticed
several addressed to the doctor, and evidently unopened. They
must have arrived the day before, and while she wondered at
the aspect of the room, Harriet entered.
" Miss Beulah, do you know how long master expects to be
gone ? I thought, maybe, you could tell when you came home,
for Mrs. Watson does not seem to know any more than I do."
" Gone ! What do you mean ?"
"Don't you know he has gone up the river to the plantation ?
Why, I packed his valise at daylight yesterday, and he left in
the early morning boat. He has not been to the plantation
since just before you came here. Hal says he heard him tell
Dr. Asbury to take charge of his patients, that his overseer had
to be looked after. He told me he was going to the plantation,
and I would have asked him when he was coming back, but he
was in on,e of his unsatisfactory ways ; looked just like his
mouth had been dipped in hot sealing-wax, so I held my
tongue."
Beulah bit her lips with annoyance, but sat down before the
melodeon, and said as unconcernedly as possible :
" I did not know he had left the city, and of course have no
idea when he will be back. Harriet, please make me a fire
here, or call Hal to do it."
" There is a good fire in the dining-room ; better go in there
and sit with Mrs. Watson. She is busy seeding raisins for
mincemeat and fruit-cake."
" No, I would rather stay here."
" Then I will kindle you a fire right away."
Harriet moved about the room with cheerful alacrity. She
had always seemed to consider herself Beulah's special guardian
and friend, and gave continual proof of the strength of her
affection. Evidently she desired to talk about her master, but
BEULAH. 14:5
Beulah's face gave her no encouragement to proceed. She made
several efforts to renew the conversation, but they were not
seconded, and she withdrew, muttering to herself :
" She is learning all his ways. He does hate to talk any more
than he can help, and she is patterning after him just as fast as
she can. They don't seem to know what the Lord gave them
tongues for."
Beulah practised perseveringly, for some time, and then draw-
ing a chair near the fire, sat down and leaned her head on her
hand. She missed her guardian wanted to see him felt sur-
prised at his sudden departure, and mortified that he had not
thought her of sufficient consequence to bid adieu to, and be
apprised of his intended trip. He treated her precisely as he
did when she first entered the house ; seemed to consider her a
mere child, whereas she knew she was no longer such. He
never alluded to her plan of teaching, and when she chanced to
mention it, he offered no comment, looked indifferent or ab-
stracted. Though invariably kind, and sometimes humorous,
there was an impenetrable reserve respecting himself, his past
und future, which was never laid aside. When not engaged with
his flowers or music, he was deep in some favorite volume, and,
outside of these sources of enjoyment, seemed to derive no real
pleasure. Occasionally he had visitors, but these were generally
strangers, often persons residing at a distance, and Beulah knew
nothing of them. Several times he had attended concerts and
lectures, but she had never accompanied him ; and frequently,
when sitting by his side, felt as if a glacier lay between them.
After Mrs. Chilton's departure for New York, where she and
Pauline were boarding, no ladies ever came to the house,
except a few of middle age, who called now and then to see
Mrs. Wat on, and, utterly isolated from society, Beulah was
conscious of entire ignoraucB of all that passed in polite circles.
Twice Claudia had called, but unable to forget the past suffi-
ciently to enter Mrs. Grayson's house, their intercourse had
ended with Claudia's visits. Mrs. Watson was a kind-hearted
7
146 BEULAH.
and most excellent woman, who made an admirable housekeeper,
but possessed few of the qualifications requisite to render her
an agreeable companion. With an ambitious nature, and an
eager thirst for knowledge, Beulah had improved her advantages
as only those do who have felt the need of them. While she
acquired, with unusual ease and rapidity, the branches of learn-
ing taught at school, she had availed herself of the extensive
arid select library, to which she had free access, and history,
biography, travels, essays and novels had been perused with
singular avidity. Dr. Hartwell, without restricting her reading,
suggested the propriety of incorporating more of the poetic
element in her course. The hint was timely, and induced an
acquaintance with the great bards of England and Germany,
although her taste led her to select works of another character.
Her secluded life favored habits of study, and at an age when girls
are generally just beginning to traverse the fields of literature, she
had progressed so far as to explore some of the footpaths which
entice contemplative minds from the beaten track. With earlier
cultivation and superiority of years, Eugene had essayed to direct
her reading ; but now, in point of advancement, she felt that she
was in the van. Dr. Hartwell had told her, whenever she was
puzzled, to come to him for explanation, and his clear analysis
taught her how immeasurably superior he was, even to those
instructors whose profession it was to elucidate mysteries. Ac-
customed to seek companionship in books, she did not, upon the
present occasion, long reflect on her guardian's sudden departure,
but took from the shelves a volume of Poe which contained her
mark. The parting rays of the winter sun grew fainter ; the
dull, sombre light of vanishing day made the room dim, and it
was only by means of the red glare from the glowing grate that
she deciphered the print. Finally the lamp was brought in, and
shed a mellow radiance over the dusky apartment. The volume
was finished, and dropped upon her lap. The spell of this
incomparable sorcerer was upon her imagination ; the sluggish,
lurid tarn 'of Usher ; the pale, gigantic water lilies, nodding
B E TJ L A H . 14/i
their ghastly, everlasting heads over the dreary Za'ire ; th<
shrouding shadow of Helusion ; the ashen skies, and sere, crispec
leaves in the ghoul-haunted woodland of Weir, hard by th<
dim lake of Auber all lay with grim distinctness before her
and from the red bars of the grate, the wild, lustrous, appalling
eyes of Ligeia looked out at her, while the unearthly tones of
Morclla whispered from every corner of the room. She ros<
and replaced the book on the shelf, striving to shake off the dis
mal hold which all this phantasmagoria had taken on her fancy
Her eyes chanced to fall upon a bust of Athene which surmountec
her guardian's desk, and immediately the mournful refrain of th<
Haven, solemn and dirge-like, floated through the air, enhancing
the spectral element which enveloped her. She retreated to th<
parlor, and running her fingers over the keys of the piano
endeavored by playing some of her favorite airs, to divest he:
mind of the dreary, unearthly images which haunted it. Th<
attempt was futile, and there in the dark, cold parlor, she leanec
her head against the piano, and gave herself up to the guidance
of one who, like the " Ancient Mariner," holds his listener fasci
uated and breathless. Once her guardian had warned her not tc
study Poe too closely, but the book was often in his own hand
and yielding to the matchless ease and rapidity of his diction
she found herself wandering in a wilderness of baffling sugges-
tions. Under the drapery of " William Wilson," of " Morella '
and " Ligeia," she caught tantalizing glimpses of recondite
psychological truths and processes, which dimly hovered over her
own consciousness, but ever eluded the grasp of analysis. While
his unique imagery filled her mind with wondering delight, she
shrank appalled from the mutilated fragments which he pre-
sented to her as truths, on the point of his glittering scalpel of
logic. With the eagerness of a child clutching at its own
shadow in a glassy lake, and thereby destroying it, she had read
that anomalous prose poem " Eureka." The quaint humor of
that "bottled letter" first arrested her attention, and, once
launched on the sea of Cosmogonies, she was amazed at the
148 BEULAH.
seemingly infallible reasoning, which, at the conclusion, coolly
informed her that she was her own God. Mystified, shocked,
and yet admiring, she had gone to Dr. Hartwell for a solution of
the difficulty. False she felt the whole icy tissue to be, yet
could not detect the adroitly disguised sophisms. Instead of
assisting her, as usual, he took the book from her, smiled and
put it away, saying, indifferently :
" You must not play with such sharp tools just yet. Go and
practise your music lesson."
She was too deeply interested to be put off so quietly, and
constantly pondered this singular production, which confirmed
in some degree a fancy of her own concerning the preexistence
of the soul. Only on the hypothesis of an anterior life could she
explain some of the mental phenomena which puzzled her.
Heedless of her guardian's warning, she had striven to compre-
hend the philosophy of this methodical madman, and now felt
bewildered and restless. This study of Poe was the portal
through which she entered the vast Pantheon of Speculation.
CHAPTER XIV.
A WEEK later, at the close of a dull winter day, Beulah sat as
usual in the study. The large parlors and dining-room had a
desolate look at all times, and .of the whole house, only the study
seemed genial. Busily occupied during the day, it was not until
evening that she realized her guardian's absence. No tidings of
him had been received, and she began to wonder at his pro-
longed stay. She felt very lonely without him, and though
generally taciturn, she missed him from the hearth, missed the
tall form, and the sad, stern face. Another Saturday had come,
and all day she had been with Clara in her new home, trying tc
B E U L A H . 14
cheer the mourner, and dash away the gloom that seemed se 1
tling down upon her spirits. At dusk, she returned home
spent au hour at the piano, and now wall 3d up and down th
study, rapt in thought. The room had a cozy, comfortabl
aspect; the fire burned brightly; the lamp light sirvered th
paintings and statues; and on the rug before the grate lay
huge black dog of the St. Bernard order, his shaggy head thrm
between his paws. The large, intelligent eyes, followed Beula
as she paced to and fro, and seemed mutely to question he
restlessness. His earnest scrutiny attracted her notice, and st
held out her hand, saying, musingly:
" Poor Charon; you too miss your master. Charon, King <
Shadows, when will he come."
The great black eyes gazed intently into hers, and seemed 1
echo, " when will he come ?" He lifted his grim head, snuffe
the air, listened, and sullenly dropped his face on his paws agaii
Beulah threw herself on the rug, and laid her head on his thic
neck ; he gave a quick, short bark of satisfaction, and very soc
both girl and dog were fast asleep. A quarter of an hour glide
by, and then Beulah was suddenly roused by a violent motic
of her pillow. Charon sprang up, and leaped frantically aero
the room. The comb which confined her hair had fallen ou
and gathering up the jetty folds which swept over her shoulder
she looked around. Dr. Hartwell was closing the door.
"Down, Charon; you ebon scamp! Down, you keeper <
Styx!" He forced down the paws from his shoulders, at
patted the shaggy head, while his eyes rested affectionately c
the delighted countenance of his sable favorite. As he thre
down his gloves, his eyes fell on Beulah, who had hastily rise
from the rug, and he held out his hand, saying:
"Ah! Charon waked you rudely. How are you?"
" Very well, thank you, sir. I am so glad you have con
home, so glad." She took his cold hand between both her
rubbed it vigorously, and looked up joyfully in his face. SI
thought he was paler and more haggard than she had ever se<
L50 B E U L A H .
rim; his hair clustered iu disorder about bis forehead; his whole
ispect was weary and wretched. He suffered her to keep his
land in her warm, tij ht clasp, and asked kindly:
" Are you well, B julah ? Your face is flushed, and you feel
'everish."*
" Perfectly well. But yon are as cold as an Esquimaux
hunter. Come to the fire." She drew his arm-chair, with its
iandle-staud and book-board, close to the hearth, and put his
warm velvet slippers before him. She forgot her wounded pride;
forgot that he had left without even bidding her good bye; and
only remembered that he had come home again, that he was
sitting there iu the study, and she would be lonely no more.
Silently leaning back in the chair, he closed his eyes with a sigh
of relief. She felt as if she would like very much to smooth off
the curling hair that lay thick and damp on his white, gleaming
brow, but dared not. She stood watching him for a moment,
and said considerately:
" Will you have your tea now ? Charon and I had our sup-
per long ago."
"No, child; I only want to rest."
Beulah fancied he spoke impatiently. Had she been too offi-
cious iu welcoming him to his own home ? She bit her lip with
proud vexation, and taking her geometry, left him. As she
reached the door, the doctor called to her:
" Beulah, you need not go away. This is a better fire than
the one in your own room." But she was wounded, and did not
choose to stay.
" I can study better in my own room. Good night, sir."
" Why, child, this is Saturday night. No lessons until
Monday."
She was not particularly mollified by the reiteration of the
word " child," and answered, coldly :
" There are hard lessons for every day we live."
" Well, be good enough to hand me the letters that ha\o
arrived during my absence."
BE TIL AH. 151
t
She emptied the letter receiver, and placed several communi-
cations in his hand. He pointed to a chair near the fire, and
said, quietly :
" Sit down, my child; sit down."
Too proud to discover how much she was piqued by his cold-
ness, she took the seat and commenced studying. But lines and
angles swam confusedly before her, and, shutting the book, she
sat looking into the fire. While her eyes roamed into the deep,
glowing crevices of the coals, a letter was hurled into the fiery
mass, and in an instant blazed and shrivelled to ashes. She
looked up in surprise, and started at the expression of her
guardian's face. Its Antinous-like beauty had vanished ; the
pale lips writhed, displaying the faultless teeth; the thin nostrils
were expanded, and the eyes burned with fierce anger. The
avalanche was upheaved by hidden volcanic fires, and he
exclaimed, with scornful emphasis :
" Idiot ! blind lunatic ! In his dotage 1"
There was something so marvellous in this excited, angry
manifestation, that Beulah, who had never before seen him other
than phlegmatic, looked at him with curious wonder. His
clenched hand rested on the arm of the chair, and he continued,
sarcastically :
" Oh, a precious pair of idiots 1 They will have a glorious
life. Such harmony, such congeniality ! Such incomparable
sweetness, on her part, such equable spirits on his ! Not the
surpassing repose of a windless tropic night can approach to the
divine serenity of their future. Ha 1 by the Furies 1 he will
have an enviable companion; a matchless Griselda 1" Laughing
scornfully, he started up and strode across the floor. As Beulah
(aim-lit the withering expression which sat on every feature, she
shuddered involuntarily. Could she bear to incur his contempt ?
II- approached her, and she felt as though her very soul shrank
from him ; his glowing eyes seemed to burn her face, as he
paused and said, ironically :
" Can't you participate in my joy ? I have a new brothcr-iu-
152 BEULAH.
law. Congratulate me on my sister's marriage. Such desperate
good news can come but rarely in a lifetime."
" Whom has she married, sir ?" asked Beulah, shrinking from
the iron grasp on her shoulder.
" Percy Lockhart, of course. He will rue his madness. I
warned him. Now let him seek apples in the orchards of
Sodom! Let him lay his parched lips to the treacherous waves
of the Dead Sea ! Oh, I pity the fool ! I tried to save him,
but he would seal his own doom. Let him pay the usurious
school-fees of experience."
" Perhaps your sister's love for him will " -
"Oh, you young, ignorant lamb ! You poor, little unfledged
birdling ! I suppose you fancy she is really attached to him.
Do you, indeed ? About as much as that pillar of salt in the
plain of Sodom was attached to the memory of Lot. About as
much as this peerless Niobe of mine is attached to me." He
struck the marble statue as he spoke.
" Then, how could she marry him ?" asked Beulah, naively.
" Ha ! ha ! I will present you to the Smithsonian Institute
as the last embodiment of effete theories. Who exhumed you,
patron saint of archaism, from the charnel-house of centuries ?"
He looked down at her with an expression of intolerable bitter-
ness and scorn. Her habitually pale face flushed to crimson, as
>he answered with sparkling eyes :
" Not the hands of Diogenes, encumbered with his tub I"
He smiled grimly.
" Know the world as I do, child, and tubs and palaces
will be alike to you. Feel the pulse of humanity, and you
" Heaven preserve me from looking on life through your
spectacles !" cried she, impetuously, stung by the contemptuous
smile which curled his lips.
" Amen." Taking his hands from her shoulder, he threw
himself back into his chair. There was silence for some minutes,
and Beulah said :
BEULAH. i
" I thought Mr. Loekhart was in Syria ?"
" Oh, no ; he wants a companion in his jaunt to the Hoi;
Land. How devoutly May will kneel on Olivet and Moriah
What pious tears will stain her lovely cheek as she stands in th
hall of Pilate, and calls to mind all the thirty years' history
Oh ! Percy is cruel to subject her tender soul to such torturing
associations. Beulah, go and play something ; no matter what
Anything to hush my cursing mood. Go, child." He turne<
away his face to hide its bitterness, and, seating herself at th
melodeou, Beulah played a German air, of which he was ver
fond. At the conclusion, he merely said :
" Sing."
A plaintive prelude followed the command, and she sang. N
description could do justice to the magnificent voice, as it swelle<
deep and full in its organ-like tones ; now thrillingly low in it
wailing melody, and now ringing clear and sweet as silver bells
There were soft, rippling notes, that seemed to echo from th
deeps of her soul, and voice its immensity. It was wonderfi
what compass there was, what rare sweetness and purity too. I
was a natural gift, like that conferred on birds. Art could no
produce it, but practice and scientific culture had improved an
perfected it. For three years the best teachers had instructe<
her, and she felt that now she was mistress of a spell whicl
once invoked, might easily exorcise the evil spirit which ha<
taken possession of her guardian. She sang several of hi
favorite songs, then closed the melodeon, and went back to tli
fire. Dr. Hartwell's face lay against the purple velvet lining c
the chair, and the dark surface gave out the contour with boL
distinctness. His eyes were closed, and as Beulah watched him
she thought, " how inflexible he looks, how like a marble imagt
The rnouth seems as if the sculptor's chisel had just carved it
so stern, so stony. Ah I he is not scornful now ; he looks onl,
sad, uncomplaining, but very miserable. What has steeled hi
heart, and made him so unrelenting, so haughty ? What ca
have isolated him so completely ? Nature lavished on him ever
7*
154: BEULAH.
gift which could render him the charm of social circles, yet ho
lives in the seclusion of his own fieart, independent of sympathy,
contemptuous of the world he was sent to improve and bless."
These reflections were interrupted by his opening his eyes, and
saying, in his ordinary, calm tone :
" Thank you, Beulah. Did you finish that opera I spoke of
some time since ?"
"Yes, sir."
"You found it difficult ?"
" Not so difficult as your description led me to imagine."
" Were you lonely while I was away ?"
" Yes, sir."
" Why did not Clara come and stay with you ?"
" She was engaged in changing her home ; has removed to
Mrs. Hoyt's boarding-house."
" When did you see her last ? How does she bear the blow ?"
" I was with her to-day. She is desponding, and seems to
grow more so daily."
She wondered very much whether he suspected the preference
which she felt sure Clara ectertained for him ; and as the sub-
ject recurred to her, she looked troubled.
" What is the matter ?" he asked, accustomed to reading her
expressive face.
" Nothing that can be remedied, sir."
" How do you know that ? Suppose you let me be the judge."
" You could not judge of it, sir ; and besides, it is no concern
of mine."
A frigid smile fled over his face, and for some time he appeared
lost in thought. His companion was thinking too ; wondering
how Clara could cope with such a nature as his ; wondering why
people always selected persons totally unsuited to them ; and
fancying that if Clara only knew her guardian's character as
well as she did, the gentle girl would shrink in dread from his
unbending will, his habitual, moody taciturnity. He was gene-
rous and unselfish, but also as unyielding as the Rock of Gibral-
BEULAH. 155
tar. There was nothing pleasurable in this train of thought, and
taking up a book, she soon ceased to think of the motionless
figure opposite. No sooner were her eyes once fastened on her
book, than his rested searchiugly on her face. At first she read
without much manifestation of interest, regularly and slowly
passing her hand over the black head which Charon had laid on
her lap. After a while the lips parted eagerly, the leaves were
turned quickly, and the touches on Charon's head ceased. Her
long, black lashes could not veil the expression of enthusiastic
pleasure. Another page fluttered over, a flush stole across her
brow ; and as she closed the volume, her whole face was irradi-
ated.
" What are you reading ?" asked Dr. Hartwell, when she seemed
to sink into a reverie.
" Analects from Richter."
" De Quincey's !"
"Yes, sir."
" Once that marvellous ' Dream upon the Universe ' fascinated
me as completely as it now does you."
Memories of earlier days clustered about him, parting the
sombre clouds with their rosy fingers. His features began to
soften.
" Sir, can you read it now without feeling your soul kindle ?"
" Yes, child : it has lost its interest for me. I read it as indif-
ferently as I do one of my medical books. So will you one day."
" Never ! It shall be a guide-book to my soul, telling of the
pathway arched with galaxies and paved with suns, through
which that soul shall pass in triumph to its final rest 1"
" And who shall remain in that ' illimitable dungeon of pure,
pure darkness, which imprisons creation ? That dead sea of
nothing, in whose unfathomable zone of blackness the jewel of
the glittering universe is set, and buried forever T Child, is not
that, too, a dwelling-place ?" He passed his fingers through his
hair, sweeping it all back from his ample forehead Beulah
opened the book, and read aloud :
156 BEULAH.
" Iiu mediately my eyes were opened, and I saw, as it were, an
interminable sea of light : all spaces between all heavens were
filled with happiest light, for the deserts and wastes of the crea-
tion were now filled with the sea of light, and in this sea the
*u:.s floated like ash-grey blossoms, and the planets like black
grains of seed. Then my heart compreuended that immortality
dwelled in the spaces between the worlds, and Death only among
the worlds ; and the murky planets I perceived were but cradles
for the infant spirits of the universe of light ! In the Zaarahs of
the creation I saw, I heard, I felt the glittering, the echoing,
the breathing of life and creative power !"
She closed the volume, and while her lips trembled with deep
feeling, added earnestly :
" Oh, sir, it makes me long, like Jean Paul, ' for some narrow
cell or quiet oratory in this metropolitan cathedral of the uni-
verse/ It is an infinite conception and painting of infinity, which
my soul endeavors to grasp, but wearies in thinking of I"
Dr. Hartwell smiled, and pointing to a row of books, said
with some eagerness :
" I will test your love of Jean Paul. Give me that large
olume in crimson binding on the second shelf. No further
on ; that is it."
He turned over the leaves for a few minutes, and with a finder
still on the page, put it into her hand, saying :
" Begin here at ' I went through the worlds,' and read down
to ' when I awoke.' "
She sat down and read. He put his hand carelessly over his
eyes, and watched her curiously through his fingers. It was
evident that she soon became intensely interested. He could
see the fierce throbbing of a vein in her throat, and the tight
clutching of her fingers. Her eyebrows met in the wrinkling
forehead, and the lips were compressed severely. Gradually the
flush faded from her cheek, an expression of pain and horror
swept over her stormy face, and rising hastily, she exclaimed :
" False ! false ! ' That everlasting storm which no one guides '
BEULAH. 157
tells me in thunder tones that there is a home of rest in the pre-
sence of the infinite father ! Oh, chance does not roam, like a
destroying angel, through that ' snow-powder of stars I 7 The love
of our God is over all his works as a mantle ! Though you should
' take the wings of the morning and dwell in the uttermost parts
of the sea,' lo ! He is there ! The sorrowing children of the uni-
verse are not orphans ! Neither did Richter believe it ; well
might he declare that with this sketch he would ' terrify himself '
and vanquish the spectre of Atheism ! Oh, sir ! the dear God
stretches his arm about each and all of us ! ' When the sorrow-
laden lays himself, with a galled back, into the earth, to sleep
till a fairer morning,' it is not true that ' he awakens in a stormy
chaos, in an everlasting midnight I' It is not true I He goes
home to his loved dead, and spends a blissful eternity in the king-
dom of Jehovah, where death is no more, ' where the wicked
cease from troubling, and the weary are at rest I' "
She laid the volume on his knee, and tears which would not be
restrained, rolled swiftly over her cheeks.
He looked at her mournfully, and took her hand in his.
"My child, do you believe all this as heartily as you did
when a little girl ? Is your faith in your religion unshaken ?"
He felt her fingers close over his spasmodically, as she hastily
replied :
" Of course, of course ! What could shake a faith which
years should strengthen ?"
But the shiver which crept through her frame denied her asser-
tion, and wilh a keen pang, he saw the footprints of the
Destroyer. She must not know, however, that he doubted her
words, and with an effort, he said :
" I am glad, Betilali ; and if you would continue to believe,
don't read my books promiscuously. There are many on those
shelves yonder which I would advise you never to open. Be
warned in time, my child."
She snatched her hand from his, and answered proudly :
" Sir, think you 1 could be satisfied with a creed which I could
158 BEULAH.
not bear to have investigated ? If I abstained from reading
your books, dreading lest my faith be shaken, then I could no
longer confide in that faith. Christianity has triumphed over the
subtleties of infidelity for eighteen hundred years ; what have I
to fear ?"
" Beulah, do you want to be just what I am ? Without belief
in any creed ! hopeless of eternity as of life ! Do you want to be
like me ? If not, keep your hands off of my books ! Good night;
it is time for you to be asleep."
He motioned her away, and too much pained to reply, she
silently withdrew.
CHAPTER XV.
THE day had been clear, though cold, and late in the after-
noon, Beulah wrapped a shawl about her, and ran out into the
front yard for a walk. The rippling tones of the fountain were
hushed ; the shrubs were bare, and, outside the greenhouse, not
a flower was to be seen. Even the hardy chrysanthemums were
brown and shrivelled. Here vegetation slumbered in the gr^ve
of winter. The hedges were green, and occasional clumps of
cassina bent their branches beneath the weight of coral fruitage.
Tall poplars lifted their leafless arms helplessly toward the sky,
and threw grotesque shadows on the ground beneath, while the
wintry wind chanted a mournful dirge through the sombre foli-
age of the aged, solemn cedars. Noisy flocks of robins fluttered
among the trees, eating the ripe, red yupon berries, and now and
then, parties of pigeons circled round and round the house.
Charon lay on the door-step, blinking at the setting sun, with
his sage face dropped on his paws. Afar off was heard the hum
of the city; but here all was quiet and peaceful. Beulah looked
over the beds, lately so brilliant and fragrant in their wealth of
BEULAH. 159
flora.l beauty ; at the bare grey poplars, whose musical rustling
had so often hushed her to sleep in cloudless summer iiights, and
an expression of serious thoughtfulness settled on her face.
Many months before, she had watched the opening spring in this
same garden. Had seen young leaves and delicate blossoms bud
out from naked stems, had noted their rich luxuriance as the
summer heat came on their mature beauty; and when the first
breath of autumn sighed through the laud, she saw them flush
and decline, and gradually die and rustle down to their graves.
Now, where green boughs and perfumed petals had gaily looked
up in the sunlight, all was desolate. The piercing northern
wind seemed to whisper as it passed, " life is but the germ of
death, and death the development of a higher life." Was the
cycle eternal then ? Were the beautiful ephemera she had loved
so dearly gone down into the night of death, but for a season,
to be born again, in some distant springtime, mature, and
return, as before, to the charnel-house ? Were the three ^core
and ten years of human life analogous ? Life, too, had its spring-
time, its summer of maturity, its autumnal decline, and its wintry
night of death. Were the cold sleepers in the neighboring
cemetery waiting, like those dead flowers, for the tireless pro-
cesses of nature, whereby their dust was to be reanimated,
remolded, lighted with a soul, and set forward for another
journey of three score and ten years of life and labor ? Men
lived and died ; their ashes enriched mother Earth, new creations
sprang, phoenix-like, from the sepulchre of the old. Another
generation trod life's path in the dim footprints of their prede-
cessors, and that, too, vanished in the appointed process, min-
gling dust with dust, that Protean matter might hold the even
tenor of its way, in accordance with the oracular decrees of
Isis. Was it true that, since the original Genesis, " nothing had
been gained, and nothing lost ?" Was earth, indeed, a mon-
strous Kronos ? If so, was not she as old as creation ? To how
many other souls had her body given shelter ? How was her
identity to be maintained ? True, she had read that identity
160 BETTLAH.
was housed in " consciousness," not bones and muscles ? But
could there be consciousness without bones and muscles ? She
drew her shawl closely around her, and looked up a,t the cloudless
sea of azure The sun had sunk below the horizon ; the birds
had all gone to rest ; Charon had sought the study rug ; even
the distant hum of the city was no longer heard. " The silver
sparks of stars were rising on the altar of the east, and falling
down in the red sea of the west." Beulah was chilled ; there
were cold thoughts in her mind icy spectres in her heart ; and
she quickened her pace up and down the avenue, dusky beneath
the ancient gloomy cedars. One idea haunted her : aside from
revelation, what proof had she that unlike those moldering
flowers, her spirit should never die ? No trace was to be found
of the myriads of souls who had preceded her. Where were
the countless hosts ? Were life and death balanced ? was her
own soul chiliads old, forgetting its former existences, save as dim,
undefinable reminiscences, flashed fitfully upon it ? If so, was it
a progression ? How did she know that her soul had not en-
tered her body fresh from the release of the hangman, instead
of coming down on angel wings from its starry home, as she had
loved to think ? A passage which she had read many weeks
before flashed upon her mind : " Upon the dead mother, in peace
and utter gloom, are reposing the dead children. After a time,
uprises the everlasting sun ; and the mother starts up at the
summons of the heavenly dawn, with a resurrection of her an-
cient bloom. And her children ? Yes, but they must wait
awhile !" This resurrection was springtime, beckoning dormant
beauty from the icy arms of winter ; how long must the childreu
wait for the uprising of the morning star of eternity ? From
childhood these unvoiced queries had perplexed her mind, and,
strengthening with her growth, now cried out peremptorily for
answers. With shuddering dread, she strove to stifle the spirit
which, Oi.ce thoroughly awakened, threatened to explore every
nook and cranny of mystery. She longed to talk freely with
her guardian, regarding many of the suggestions which puzzled
BEULAH. 161
her, but shrank instinctively from broaching such topics. Now
in her need, the sublime words of Job came to her : " Oh, that
my words were now written 1 oh, that they were printed in a
book ; for I know that my Redeemer liveth, and that he shall
stand at the latter day upon the earth : and though worms
destroy this body, yet in my flesh shall I see God." Handel's
"Messiah" had invested this passage with resistless grandeur,
and leaving the cold, dreary garden, she sat down before the
iiielodeon and sang a portion of the Oratorio. The sublime
strains seemed to bear her worshipping soul up to the presence-
chamber of Deity, and exultingly she repeated the concluding
words :
" For now is Christ risen from the dead ;
The first-fruits of them that sleep."
The triumph of faith shone in her kindled eyes, though glitter-
ing drops fell on the ivory keys, and the whole countenance
bespoke a heart resting in the love of the Father. While her
fingers still rolled waves of melody through the room, Dr.
Hart well entered, with a parcel in one hand and a magnificent
cluster of greenhouse flowers in the other. He laid the latter
before Beulah, and said :
" I want you to go with me to-night to hear Sontag. The
concert commences at eight o'clock, and you have no time to
spare. Here are some flowers for your hair ; arrange it as
you have it now ; and here, also, a pair of white gloves. When
you are ready, come down and make my tea."
" Thank you, sir, for remembering me so kindly, and supply-
ing all my wants so"
" Beulah, there are tears on your lashes. What is the
matter ?" interrupted the doctor, pointing to the drops which
had fallen on the rosewood frame of the melodeon.
" Is it not enough to bring tears to my eyes when I think of
all your kindness?" She hurried away without suffering him to
urge the matter
162 BEULAH.
The prospect of hearing Sontag gave her exquisite pleasure,
arid she dressed with trembling eagerness, while Harriet leaned
on the bureau and wondered what would happen next. Except
to attend church and visit Clara and Mrs. Williams, Beulah had
never gone out before; and the very seclusion in which she lived,
rendered this occasion one of interest and importance. As she
took her cloak and ran down-stairs, the young heart throbbed
violently. Would her fastidious guardian be satisfied with her
appearance ? She felt the blood gush over her face as she
entered the room; but he did not look at her, continued to read
the newspaper he held, and said, from behind the extended sheet:
" I will join you directly."
She poured out the tea with an unsteady hand. Dr. Hartwell
took his silently ; and as both rose from the table, handed her a
paper, saying :
" The carriage is not quite ready, yet. There is a pro-
gramme."
As she glanced over it, he scanned her closely, and an expres-
sion of satisfaction settled on his features. She wore a dark
blue silk (one he had given her some weeks before), which
exquisitely fitted her slender, graceful figure, and was relieved
by a lace collar, fastened with a handsome cameo pin, also his
gift. The glossy black hair was brushed straight back from the
face, in accordance with the prevailing style, and wound into a
knot at the back of the head. On either side of this knot, she
wore a superb white camellia, which contrasted well with the
raven hair. Her face was pale, but the expression was one of
eager expectation. As the carriage rattled up to the door, he
put his hand on her shoulder, and said :
" You look very well to-night, my child. Those white
japonicas become you." She breathed freely once more.
At the door of the concert hall he gave her his arm, and
while the pressure of the crowd detained them a moment at the
entrance, she clung to him with a feeling of dependence utterly
new to her. The din of voices, the dazzling glare of the gas-
BEULAH. 163
lights bewildered her, and she walked on mechanically, till the
doctor entered his seat, and placed her beside him. The bril-
liant chandeliers shone down on elegant dresses, glittering
diamonds, and beautiful women, and, looking forward, Beulah
was reminded of the glowing descriptions in the "Arabian
Nights." She observed that many curious eyes were bent upon
her, and ere she had been seated five minutes, more than one lorg-
nette was levelled at her. Everybody knew Dr. Hartwell, arid
she saw him constantly returning the bows of recognition which
assailed him from the ladies in their vicinity. Presently, he
leaned his head on his hand, and she could not forbear smiling at
the ineffectual attempts made to arrest his attention. The hall
was crowded, and as the seats filled to their utmost capacity,
she was pressed against her guardian. He looked down at her,
and whispered :
" Very democratic. Eh, Beulah ?"
She smiled, and was about to reply, when her attention was
attracted by a party which just then took their places imme-
diately in front of her. It consisted of an elderly gentleman and
two ladies, one of whom Beulah instantly recognized as Cornelia
Graham. She was now a noble-looking, rather than beautiful
woman; and the incipient pride, so apparent in girlhood, had
matured into almost repulsive hauteur. She was very richly
dressed, and her brilliant black eyes wandered indifferently over
the room, as though such assemblages had lost their novelty and
interest for her. Chancing to look back, she perceived Dr.
Hartwell, bowed, and said with a smile :
"Pray, do not think me obstinate ; I had no wish to come, but
father insisted."
" I am glad you feel well enough to be here," was his careless
reply.
Cornelia's eyes fell upon the quiet figure at his side, and as
Beulah met her steady gaze, she felt something of her old dislike
warming in her eyes. They had never met since the morning of
Cornelia's contemptuous treatment, at Madam St. Cymon's : and
164 BETJLAH.
now, to Beulah's utter astonishment, she deliberately turned
round, put out her white-gloved hand, over the back of the seat,
and said, energetically :
" How are you, Beulah ? You have altered so materially that
I scarcely knew you."
Beulah's nature was generous ; she was glad to forget old
injuries, and as their hands met in a friendly clasp, she answered :
" You have changed but little."
" And that for the worse, as people have a pleasant way of
telling me. Beulah, I want to know honestly, if my rudeness
caused you to leave madam's school ?"
" That was not my only reason," replied Beulah, very candidly.
At this moment a burst of applause greeted the appearance of
the cantatrice, and all conversation was suspended. Beulah
listened to the warbling of the queen of song with a thrill of
delight. Passionately fond of music, she appreciated the bril-
liant execution, and entrancing melody, as probably very few in
that crowded house could have done. With some of the pieces
selected she was familiar, and others she had long desired to
hear. She was unconscious of the steady look with which her
guardian watched her, as with parted lips, she leaned eagerly
forward to catch every note. When Sontag left the stage, and
the hum of conversation was heard once more, Beulah looked up,
with a long sigh of delight, and murmured :
" Oh, sir ! isn't she a glorious woman ?"
" Miss Graham is speaking to you," said he, coolly.
She raised her head, and saw the young lady's eyes riveted on
her countenance.
" Beulah, when did you hear from Eugene ?"
"About three weeks since, I believe."
" We leave, for Europe, day-after-to-morrow ; shall, perhaps,
go directly to Heidelberg. Have you any commissions ? any
messages ?" Under the mask of seeming indifference, she
watched Beulah intently, as, shrinking from the cold, searching
eyes, the latter replied :
BEULAH. 165
" Thank you, I have neither to trouble you with."
Again the pri ma-donna appeared ^on the stage, and again
Beulah forgot everything but the witching strains. In the midst
of one of the songs, she felt her guardian start violently ; and the
hand which rested on his knee, was clinched spasmodically. She
looked at him ; the wonted pale face was flushed to the edge of
his hair ; the blue veins stood out hard and corded on his brow ;
and the eyes, like burning stars, were fixed on some object not
very remote, while he gnawed his lip, as if unconscious of what
he did. Following the direction of his gaze, she saw that it was
fastened on a gentleman, who sat at some little distance from
them. The position he occupied rendered his countenance visi-
ble, and a glance sufficed to show her that the features were
handsome, the expression sinister, malignant and cunning. His
entire appearance was foreign, and conveyed the idea of reckless
dissipation. Evidently, he came there, not for the music, but to
scan the crowd, and his fierce eyes roamed over the audience
with a daring impudence, which disgusted her. Suddenly they
rested on her own face, wandered to Dr. Hartwell's, and lingering
there a full moment, with a look of defiant hatred, returned to
her, causing her to shudder at the intensity and freedom of his
gaze. She drew herself up proudly, and, with an air of haughty
contempt, fixed her attention on the stage. But the spell of
enchantment was broken ; she could hear the deep, irregular
breathing of her guardian, and knew, from the way in which he
stared down on the floor, that he could with difficulty remain
quietly in his place. She was glad when the concert ended, and
the mass of heads began to move toward the door. With a
species of curiosity that she could not repress, she glanced at the
stranger ; their eyes met, as before, and his smile of triumphant
scorn made her cling closer to her guardian's arm, and take care
not to look in that direction again. She felt inexpressibly
relieved when, hurried on by the crowd in the rear, they emerged
from the heated room into a long, dim passage leading to the
street. They were surrounded on all sides by chattering groups,
166 BEULAH.
and while the light was too faint to distinguish faces, these
words fell on her ear with painful distinctness : "I suppose that
was Dr. Hartwell's protegee he had with him. He is a great curi-
osity. Think of a man of his age and appearance settling down as
if he were sixty years old, and adopting a beggarly orphan. She
is not at all pretty. What can have possessed him ?"
"No, not pretty, exactly; but there is something odd in her
appearance. Her brow is magnificent, and I should judge she
was intellectual. She is as colorless as a ghost. No accounting
for Hartwell; ten to one he will marry her. I have heard it
surmised that he was educating her for a wife " Here the
party who were in advance vanished, and as he approached the
carriage, Dr. Hartwell said, coolly:
" Another specimen of democracy."
Beulah felt as if a lava tide surged madly in her veins, and as
the carriage rolled homeward, she covered her face with her
hands. Wounded pride, indignation, and contempt, struggled
violently in her heart. For some moments there was silence;
then her guardian drew her hands from her face, held them
firmly in his, and leaning forward, said gravely:
" Beulah, malice and envy love lofty marks. Learn, as I have
done, to look down with scorn from the summit of indifference
upon the feeble darts aimed from the pits beneath you. My
child, don't suffer the senseless gossip of the shallow crowd to
wound you."
She endeavored to withdraw her hands, but his unyielding
grasp prevented her.
" Beulah, you must conquer your morbid sensitiveness, if you
would have your life other than a dreary burden."
"Oh, sir! you are not invulnerable to these wounds; how,
then, can I, an orphan girl, receive them with indifference ?"
She spoke passionately, and drooped her burning face till it
touched his arm.
" Ah ! you observed my agitation to-night. But for a vow
made to my dying mother, that villain's blood had long since
BEULAH. 107
removed all grounds of emotion. Six years ago, he fled from
me, and his unexpected reappearance to-night excited me more
than I had fancied it was possible for anything to do." His
voice was as low, calm and musical as though he were reading
aloud to her some poetic tale of injuries; and in the same even,
quiet tone, he added:
" It is well. All have a Nemesis."
" Not on earth, sir."
"Wait till you have lived as long as I, and you will think
with me. Beulah, be careful how you write to Eugene of Cor-
nelia Graham; better not mention her name at all. If she lives
to come home again, you will understand me."
" Is not her health good ?" asked Beulah, in surprise.
" Far from it. She has a disease of the heart, which may end
her existence any moment. I doubt whether she ever returns to
America. Mind, I do not wish yon to speak of this to any one.
Good night. If you are up in time in the morning, I wish you
would be so good as to cut some of the choicest flowers in the
greenhouse, and arrange a handsome bouquet, before breakfast.
I want to take it to one of my patients, an old friend of my
mother."
They were at home, and only pausing at the door of Mrs.
Watson's room to tell the good woman the "music was charm-
ing," Beulah hastened to her own apartment. Throwing herself
into a chair, she recalled the incidents of the evening, and her
cheeks burned painfully, as her position in the eyes of the world
was forced upon her recollection. Tears of mortification rolled
over her hot face, and her heart throbbed almost to suffocation.
She sank upon her knees, and tried to pray, but sobs- choked
her utterance; and leaning her head against the bed, she wept
bitterly.
Ah! is there not pain, and sorrow, and evil enough, in this
fallen world of ours, that meddling gossips must needs poison
the few pure springs of enjoyment and peace ? Not the hatred
of the Theban brothers could more thoroughly accomplish this
168 BETJLAH.
fiendish design, than the whisper of detraction, the sneer of
malice, or the fatal innuendo of envious, low-bred tattlers.
Human life is shielded by the bulwark of legal provisions, and
most earthly possessions are similarly protected; but there are
assassins whom the judicial arm cannot reach, who infest society
in countless hordes, and while their work of ruin and misery goes
ever on, there is for the unhappy victims no redress. Thy holy
precepts, 0, Christ I alone can antidote this universal evil.
Beulah calmed the storm that raged in her heart, and as she
took the flowers from her hair, said resolutely:
" Before long I shall occupy a position where there will be
nothing to envy, and then, possibly, I may escape the gossiping
rack. Eugene may think me a fool, if he likes; but support
myself I will, if it costs me my life. What difference should it
make to him, so long as I prefer it ? One more year of study,
and I shall be qualified for any situation; then I can breathe
freely. May God shield me from all harml"
CHAPTER XVI.
THAT year of study rolled swiftly away ; another winter came
and passed ; another spring hung its verdant drapery over
earth, and now ardent summer reigned once more. It was near
the noon of a starry July night that Beulah sat in her own room
beside her writing-desk. A manuscript lay before her, yet damp
with ink, and as she traced the concluding words, and threw
down her pen, a triumphant smile flashed over her face. To-
morrow the session of the public school would close, with an
examination of its pupils ; to-morrow she would graduate, and
deliver the valedictory to the graduating class. She had just
finished copying her address, and placing it carefully in the desk,
rose and leaned against the window, that the cool night air
BEULAH. 169
might fan her fevered brow. The hot blood beat heavily in her
temples, aud fled with arrowy swiftness through her veins. Con-
tinued mental excitement, like another Shylock, peremptorily
exacted its debt, and as she looked out on the solemn beauty
of the night, instead of soothing, it seemed to mock her restless-
ness. Dr. Hart well had been absent since noon, but now she
detected the whir of wheels in the direction of the carriage-house,
and knew that he was in the study. She heard him throw
open the shutters, and speak to Charon, and gathering up
her hair, which hang loosely about her shoulders, she confined
it with a comb, and glided noiselessly down the steps. The lamp-
light gleamed through the open door, and pausing on the thresh-
old, she asked :
" May I come in for .a few minutes, or are you too much
fatigued to talk ?"
" Beulah, I positively forbade your sitting up this late. It is
midnight, child ; go to bed/' He held some papers, and spoke
without even glancing toward her.
" Yes, I know ; but I want to ask you something before I
sleep."
"Well, what is it?" Still he did not look up from his
papers.
11 Will you attend the exercises to-morrow ?"
" Is it a matter of any consequence whether I do or not ?"
" To me, sir, it certainly is."
" Child, I shall not have leisure."
" Be honest, and say that you have not sufficient interest,"
cried she, passionately.
He smiled, and answered placidly :
" Good night, Beulah. You should have been asleep long
ago." Her lips quivered, and she lingered, loth to leave him in
so unfriendly a mood. Suddenly he raised his head, looked at
her steadily, and said :
" Have you sent in your name as an applicant for a situa-
tion ?"
8
170 BEULAH.
" I have."
" Good night." His tone was stern, and she immediately re-
treated. Unable to sleep, she passed the remaining hours of the
short night in pacing the floor, or watching the clock-work of
stars point to the coming dawn. Though not quite eighteen, her
face was prematurely grave and thoughtful, and its restless, un-
satisfied expression plainly discovered a perturbed state of mind
and heart. The time had come when she must go out into the
world, and depend only upon herself ; and though she was anx-
ious to commence the work she had assigned herself, she shrank
from the thought of quitting her guardian's home and thus losing
the only companionship she really prized. He had not sought
to dissuade her ; had appeared perfectly indifferent to her plans,
and this unconcern had wounded her deeply. To-morrow would
decide her election as teacher, and as the committee would be
present at her examination (which was to be more than usually
minute in view of her application), she looked forward impatiently
to this occasion. Morning dawned, and she hailed it gladly;
breakfast came, and she took hers alone ; the doctor had already
gone out for the day This was not an unusual occurrence, yet
this morning she noted it particularly. At ten o'clock the Aca-
demy was crowded with visitors, and the commissioners and
teachers were formidably arrayed on the platform raised for this
purpose. The examination began ; Greek and Latin classes were
carefully questioned, and called on to parse and scan to a tire-
some extent ; then came mathematical demonstrations. Every
conceivable variety of lines and angles adorned the black-boards;
and next in succession were classes in rhetoric and natural his-
tory. There was a tediousness in the examinations incident to
such occasions, and as repeated inquiries were propounded,
Beulah rejoiced at the prospect of release. Finally the commis-
sioners declared themselves quite satisfied with the proficiency
attained, and the graduating class read the compositions for the
day. At length, at a signal from the superintendent of the
department, Beulah ascended the platform, and surrounded by
BEIT L AH. 171
men signalized by scholarship and venerable from age, she began
her address. She wore a white mull muslin, and her glossy
black hair was arranged with the severe simplicity which charac-
terized her style of dress. Her face was well-nigh as colorless as
the paper she held, and her voice faltered with the first few sen-
tences.
The theme was " Female Heroism," and as she sought among
the dusky annals of the past for instances in confirmation of her
predicate, that female intellect was capable of the most exalted
attainments, and that the elements of her character would enable
woman to cope successfully with difficulties of every class, her
voice grew clear, firm and deep. Quitting the fertile fields of
history, she painted the trials which hedge woman's path, and
with unerring skill defined her peculiar sphere, her true position.
The reasoning was singularly forcible, the imagery glowing and
gorgeous, and occasional passages of exquisite pathos drew tears
from her fascinated audience ; while more than once, a beautiful
burst of enthusiasm was received with flattering applause.
Instead of flushing, her face grew paler, and the large eyes were
full of lambent light, which seemed to flash out from her soul.
In conclusion, she bade adieu to the honored halls where her feet
had sought the paths of knowledge ; paid a just and grateful
tribute to the Institution of Public Schools, and to the Commis-
sioners through whose agency she had been enabled to enjoy so
many privileges ; and turning to her fellow-graduates, touchingly
reminded them of the happy past, and warned of the shrouded
future. Crumpling the paper in one hand, she extended the
other toward her companions, and in thrilling accents conjured
them, in any and every emergency, to prove themselves true
women of America ornaments of the social circle, angel guard-
ians of the sacred hearthstone, ministering spirits where suffering
and want demanded succor. Women qualified to assist in a
council of statesmen, if dire necessity ever required it ; while, in
whatever positions they might be placed, their examples should
remain imperishable monuments of true female heroism. A.S the
172 BEULAH.
last words passed her lips, she glanced swiftly over the sea of
heads, and perceived her guardian leaning with folded arms
against a pillar, while his luminous eyes were fastened on her
face. A flash of joy irradiated her countenance, and bending
her head amid the applause of the assembly, she retired to her
seat. She felt that her triumph was complete ; the whispered,
yet audible inquiries regarding her name, the admiring, curious
glances directed toward her, were not necessary to assure her of
success ; and when, immediately after the diplomas were distri-
buted, she rose and received hers with the calm look of one who
has toiled long for some meed, and puts forth her hand for what
she is conscious of having deserved. The crowd slowly dis-
persed, and beckoned forward once more, Beulah confronted the
august committee whose prerogative it was to elect teachers. A
certificate was handed her, and the chairman informed her of
her election to a vacant post in the Intermediate Department.
The salary was six hundred dollars, to be paid monthly, and her
duties would commence with the opening of the next session,
after two months' vacation. In addition, he congratulated her
warmly on the success of her valedictory effort, and suggested
the propriety of cultivating talents which might achieve for her
an enviable distinction. She bowed in silence, and turned away
to collect her books. Her guardian approached, and said in a
low voice :
" Put on your bonnet, and come down to the side gate. It is
too warm for you to walk home."
Without waiting for her answer, he descended the steps, and
she was soon seated beside him in the buggy. The short ride
was silent, and on reaching home, Beulah would have gone
immediately to her room, but the doctor called her into the
study, and as he rang the bell, said gently :
" You look very much exhausted ; rest here, while I order a
glass of wine."
It was speedily brought, and having iced it, he held it to her
white lips. She drank the contents, and her head sank on tho
B E TJ L A H . 173
sofa cushions. The fever of excitement was over, a feeling of
lassitude stole over her, and she soon lost all consciousness in a
heavy sleep. The sun was just setting as she awakened from
her slumber, and sitting up, she soon recalled the events of the
day. The evening breeze, laden with perfume, stole in refresh-
ingly through the blinds, and as the sunset pageant faded, and
darkness crept on, she remained on the sofa, pondering her
future course. The lamp and her guardian made their appear-
ance at the same moment, and throwing himself down in one
corner of the sofa, the latter asked :
" How are you since your nap ? A trifle less ghastly, I see."
11 Much better, thank you, sir. My head is quite clear again."
" Clear enough to make out a foreign letter ?" He took one
from his pocket and put it in her hand.
An anxious look flitted across her face, and she glanced
rapidly over the contents, then crumpled the sheet nervously in
her fingers.
" What is the matter now ?"
" He is coming home. They will all be here in November."
She spoke as if bitterly chagrined and disappointed.
" Most people would consider that joyful news," said the
doctor, quietly.
" What 1 after spending more than five years (one of them in
travelling), to come back without having acquired a profession,
and settle down into a mere walking ledger ! To have princely
advantages at his command, and yet throw them madly to the
winds, and be content to plod along the road of mercantile life,
without one spark of ambition, when his mental endowments
would justify his aspiring to the most exalted political stations in
the land."
Her voice trembled from intensity of feeling.
" Take care how you disparage mercantile pursuits ; some of
the most masterly minds of the age were nurtured in the midst
of ledgers."
"And I honor and reverence all such far more than their
174:
BEULAH.
colleagues, whose wisdom was culled in classic academic halls ;
for the former, struggling amid adverse circumstances, made
good their claim to an exalted place in the temple of Fame.
But necessity forced them to purely mercantile pursuits. Eugene's
case is by no means analogous ; situated as he is, he could be
just what he chose. I honor all men who do their duty nobly
and truly in the positions fate has assigned them ; but, sir, you
know there are some more richly endowed than others, some
whom nature seems to have destined for arduous diplomatic
posts ^ whose privilege it is to guide the helm of state, and
achieve distinction as men of genius. To such the call will be
imperative ; America needs such men. Heaven only knows
where they are to rise from, when the call is made ! I do not
mean to disparage mercantile pursuits ; they afford constant
opportunities for the exercise and display of keenness and clear-
ness of intellect, but do not require the peculiar gifts so essen-
tial in statesmen. Indolence is unpardonable in any avocation,
and I would be commended to the industrious, energetic mer-
chant, in preference to superficial, so-called, ' professional men.'
But Eugene had rare educational advantages, and I expected
him to improve them, and be something more than ordinary. He
expected it, five years ago. What infatuation possesses him
latterly, I cannot imagine."
Dr. Hartwell smiled, and said, very quietly : " Has it ever
occurred to you that you might have over-estimated Eugene's
abilities ?"
" Sir, you entertained a flattering opinion of them when he left
here." She could animadvert upon his fickleness, but did not
choose that others should enjoy the same privilege.
" I by no means considered him an embryo Webster, 01
Calhoun; never looked on him as an intellectual prodigy. He had
a good mind, a handsome face, and frank, gentlemanly manners,
which, in the aggregate, impressed me favorably." Beulah bit
her lips, and stooped to pat Charon's head. There was silence
for some moments, and then the doctor asked :
BEULAH. 175
" Does he mention Cornelia's health ?"
" Only once, incidentally. I jud^e from the sentence, that she
is rather feeble. There is a good deal of unimportant chat about
a lady they have met in Florence. She is the daughter of a
Louisiana planter; very beautiful and fascinating; is a niece of
Mrs. Graham's, and will spend part of next winter with the
Grahams."
" What is her name ?"
" Antoinette Dupres."
Beulah was still caressing Charon, and did not observe the
purplish glow which bathed the doctor's face at the mention of
the name. She only saw that he rose abruptly, and walked to
the window, where he stood until tea was brought in. As they
concluded the meal, and left the table, he held out his hand.
" Beulah, I congratulate you on your signal success to-day.
Your valedictory made me proud of my protegee." She had put
her hand in his, and looked up in his face, but the cloudy splen-
dor of the eyes was more than she could bear, and drooping her
head a little, she answered :
" Thank you."
" You have vacation for two months ?"
" Yes, sir, and then my duties commence. Here is the certi-
ficate of my election." She offered it for inspection, but without
noticing it, he continued :
" Beulah, I think you owe me something for taking care of
you, as you phrased it long ago. at the Asylum. Do you admit
the debt ?"
" Most gratefully, sir 1 I admit that I can never liquidate it;
I can repay you only with the most earnest gratitude." Large
:<-ars hung upon her lashes, and with an uncontrollable impulse,
she raised his hand to her lips.
" I am about to test the sincerity of your gratitude. I doubt
it."
She trembled, and looked at him uneasily. He laid his hand
on her shoulder, and said, slowly :
1T6 BEULAH.
" Relinquish the idea of teaching. Let me present you to
society as my adopted child. Thus you can requite the debt."
" I cannot ! I cannot !" cried Beulah, firmly, though tears
gushed over her cheeks.
"Cannot? cannot?" repeated the doctor, pressing heavily
upon her shoulders.
" Will not, then P said she, proudly.
They looked at each other steadily. A withering smile of
scorn and bitterness distorted his Apollo-like features, and he
pushed her from him, saying, in the deep, concentrated tone of
intense disappointment :
" I might have known it. I might have expected it ; for fate
has always decreed me just such returns."
Leaning against the sculptured Niobe, which stood near,
Beulah exclaimed, in a voice of great anguish
"Oh, Dr. Hart well 1 do not make me repent the day I entered
this house. God knows I am grateful, very grateful, for your
unparalleled kindness. Oh, that it were in my power to prove
to you my gratitude 1 Do not upbraid me. You knew that I
came here only to be educated. Even then I could not bear the
thought of always imposing on your generosity; and every day
that passed strengthened this impatience of dependence. Through
your kindness, it is now in my power to maintain myself, and
after the opening of next session, I cannot remain any longer the
recipient of your bounty. Oh, sir, do not charge me with ingra-
titude ! It is more than I can bear ; more than I can bear !"
" Mark me, Beulah I Your pride will wreck you ; wreck your
happiness, your peace of mind. Already its iron hand is crushing
your young heart. Beware, lest, in yielding to its decrees, you
1 ecome the hopeless being a similar course has rendered me.
Beware ! But why should I warn you ? Have not my prophe-
cies ever proved Cassandran ? Leave me."
" No, I will not leave you in anger." She drew near him,
and took his hand in both hers. The fingers were cold and
white as marble, rigid and inflexible as steel.
BEULAH. 177
" My guardian, would you have me take a step (through fear
of your displeasure), which would retfchr my life a burden ? Will
you urge me to remain, when I tell you that I cannot be happy
here ? I think not."
" Urge you to remain ? By the Furies, no. I urge you to
go! Yes, gol I no longer want you here. Your presence would
irritate me beyond measure. But listen to me: I am going to
New York on business; had intended taking you with me; but
since you are so stubbornly proud, I can consent to leave you.
I shall start to-morrow evening rather earlier than I expected
and shall not return before September, perhaps even later.
What your plans are, I shall not inquire, but it is my request
that you remain in this house, under Mrs. Watson's care, until
your school duties commence; then you will, I suppose, remove
elsewhere. I also request, particularly, that you will not hesitate
to use the contents of a purse, which I shall leave on my desk for
you. Remember that in coming years, when trials assail you, if
you need a friend, I will still assist you. You will leave me now,
if you please, as I have some letters to write." He motioned her
away, and, unable to frame any reply, she left the room.
Though utterly miserable, now that her guardian seemed so
completely estranged, her proud nature rebelled at his stern dis-
missal, and a feeling of reckless defiance speedily dried the tears
on her cheek. That he should look down upon her with scornful
indifference, stung her almost to desperation, and she resolved,
instead of weeping, to meet and part with him as coldly as his
contemptuous treatment justified. Weary in mind and body,
she fell asleep, and soon forgot all her plans aud sorrows. The
sun was high in the heavens when Harriet waked her, and start-
ing up, she asked:
" What time is it ? How came I to sleep so late ?"
"It is eight o'clock. Master ate breakfast an hour ago.
Look here, child; what is to pay ? Master is going off to the
North, to be gone till October. He sat up all night, writing,
and giving orders about things on the place, 'specially the green-
8*
178 EEULAH.
house, and the flower seeds to be saved in the front yard. He
has not been in such a way since seven years ago. What is in
the wind now ? What ails him ?" Harriet sat with her elbows
on her knees, and her wrinkled face resting in the palms of her
hands. She looked puzzled and discontented.
" He told me last night that he expected to leave home this
evening; that he was going to New York on business." Beulah
affected indifference; but the searching eyes of the old woman
were fixed on her, and as she turned away, Harriet exclaimed:
" Going this evening! Why, child, he has gone. Told us all
good bye, from Mrs. Watson down to Charon. Said his trunk
must be sent down to the wharf at three o'clock; that he would
not have time to come home again. There, good gracious! you
are as white as a sheet ; I will fetch you some wine." She
hurried out, and Beulah sank into a chair, stunned by the intel-
ligence.
When Harriet proffered a glass of cordial, she declined it, and
said composedly:
" I will come, after a while, and take my breakfast. There is
no accounting for your master's movements. I would as soon
engage to keep up with a comet. There, let go my dress; I am
going into the study for a while." She went slowly down the
steps, and locking the door of the study to prevent intrusion,
looked around the room. There was an air of confusion, as
though books and chairs had been hastily moved about. On the
floor lay numerous shreds of crape, and glancing up, she saw,
with surprise, that the portrait had been closely wrapped in a
sheet, and suspended with the face to the wall. Instantly, an
uncontrollable desire seized her to look at that face. She had
always supposed it to be his wife's likeness, and longed to gaze
upon the features of one whose name her husband had never
mentioned. The mantel was low, and standing on a chair, she
endeavored to catch the cord which supported the frame; but it
hung too high. She stood on the marble mantel, and stretched
her hands eagerly up; but though her fingers touched the cord,
BEITLAH. 179
she could not disengage it from the hook, and with a^ sensation
of keen disappointment, she was forced to abandon the attempt.
A note on the desk attracted her attention ; it was directed to
her, and contained only a few words :
" Accompanying this is a purse containing a hundred dollars. In any
emergency which the future may present, do not hesitate to call on
"YouR GUARDIAN."
She laid her head down on his desk, and sobbed bitterly.
For the first time she realized that he had, indeed, gone gone
without one word of adieu; one look of kindness or reconciliation.
Her tortured heart whispered: "Write him a note; ask him to
come home; tell him you will not leave his house." But pride
answered: "He is a tyrant; don't be grieved at his indiffer-
ence; he is nothing to you; go to work boldly, and repay the
money you have cost him." Once more, as in former years, a
feeling of desolation crept over her. She had rejected her guar-
dian's request, and isolated herself from sympathy ; for who
would assist and sympathize with her mental difficulties as he
had done ? The tears froze in her eyes, and she sat for some
time looking at the crumpled note. Gradually, an expression
of proud defiance settled on her features; she took the purse,
walked up to her room, and put on her bonnet and mantle.
Descending to the breakfast-room, she drank a cup of coffee,
and telling Mrs. Watson she would be absent an hour or two,
left the house, and proceeded to Madam St. Cymon's. She asked
to see Miss Sanders, and after waiting a few minutes in the
parlor, Clara made her appearance. She looked wan and weary,
but greeted her friend with a gentle smile.
" I heard of your triumph yesterday, Beulah, and most sin-
cerely congratulate you."
" I am in no mood for congratulations just now. Clara, did
not you tell me, a few days since, that the music teacher of this
establishment was ill, and that Madam St. Cymon was anxious
to procure another ?"
130 BEULAH.
" Yes,. I have no idea she will ever be well again. If strong
enough, she is going back to her family, in Philadelphia, next
week. Why do you ask ?"
" I want to get the situation, and wish you would say to
madam that I have called to see her about it. I will wait here
till you speak to her."
" Beulah, are you mad ? Dr. Hartwell never will consent to
your teaching music," cried Clara, with astonishment written on
every feature.
" Dr. Hartwell is not my master, Clara Sanders ! Will you
speak to madam, or shall I have to do it ?"
" Certainly, I will speak to her. But oh, Beulah I are you
wild enough to leave your present home for such a life ?"
11 1 have been elected a teacher in the public schools, but shall
have nothing to do until the first of October. In the meantime
I intend to give music lessons. If madam will employ me for
two mouths, she may be able to procure a professor by the open-
ing of the next term. And further, if I can make this arrange-
ment, I am coming immediately to board with Mrs. Hoyt. Now
speak to madam for me, will you ?"
" One moment more. Does the doctor know of all this ?"
" He knows that I intend to teach in the public school. He
goes to New York this afternoon."
Clara looked at her mournfully, and said, with sad emphasis :
" Oh, Beulah ! you may live to rue your rashness."
To Madam St. Cymon, the proposal was singularly opportune,
and hastening to meet the applicant, she expressed much plea-
sure at seeing Miss Benton again. She was very anxious to
procure a teacher for the young ladies boarding with her, and
for her own daughters, and the limited engagement would suit
very well. She desired, however, to hear Miss Benton perform.
Beulah took off her gloves, and played several very difficult
pieces, with the ease which only constant practice and skillful
training can confer. Madam declared herself more than satisfied
with her proficiency, and requested her to commence her instruc-
B E U I, A H . 181
lions jn the following day. She had given the former teacher
six hundred dollars a year, and would allow Miss Benton eighty
dollars for the two months. Beulah was agreeably surprised at
the ample remuneration, and having arranged the hours of her
attendance at the school, she took leave of the principal. Clara
called to her as she reached the street ; and assuming a gaiety
which, just then, was very foreign to her real feelings, Beulah
answered :
" It is all arranged. I shall take tea with you in my new
home, provided Mrs. Hoyt can give me a room." She kissed her
hand, and hurried away. Mrs. Hoyt found no difficulty in pro-
viding a room ; and, to Beulah's great joy, managed to have a
vacant one adjoining Clara's. She was a gentle, warm-hearted
woman ; and as Beulah examined the apartment, and inquired
the terms, she hesitated, and said :
" My terms are thirty dollars a month ; but you are poor, I
judge, and being Miss Clara's friend, I will only charge you
twenty-five."
" I do not wish you to make any deduction in my favor. I
will take the room at thirty dollars," answered Beulah, rather
haughtily.
" Very well. When will you want it ?"
" Immediately. Be kind enough to have it in readiness for
me ; I shall come this afternoon. Could you give me some
window-curtains ? I should like it better, if you could do so
without much inconvenience."
" Oh, certainly I they were taken down yesterday to be washed.
Everything shall be in order for you."
It was too warm to walk home again, and Beulah called a
carriage. The driver had not proceeded far, when a press of
vehicles forced him to pause a few minutes. They happened to
stand near the post-office, and as Beulah glanced at the eager
crowd collected in front, she started violently on perceiving her
guardian. He stood on the corner, talking to a gentleman of
venerable aspect, and she saw that he looked harassed. She was
182 BEULAH.
powerfully impelled to beckon him to her, and at least obtain a
friendly adieu, but again pride prevailed. He had deliberately
left her, without saying good bye, and she would not force her-
self on his notice. Even as she dropped her veil to avoid obser-
vation, the carriage rolled on, and she was soon at Dr. Hart well's
door. Unwilling to reflect on the steps she had taken, she busied
herself in packing her clothes and books. On every side were
tokens of her guardian's constant interest and remembrance ;
pictures, vases, and all the elegant appendages of a writing-desk.
At length the last book was stowed away, and nothing else
remained to engage her. The beautiful little Nuremberg clock
on the mantel struck two, and looking up, she saw the solemn
face of Harriet, who was standing in the door. Her steady,
wondering gaze, disconcerted Beulah, despite her assumed indif-
ference.
" What is the meaning of all this commotion ? Hal says you
ordered the carriage to be ready at five o'clock to take you away
from here. Oh, child ! what are things coming to ? What will
master say ? What won't he say ? What are you quitting this
house for, where you have been treated as well as if it belonged
to you ? What ails you ?"
"Nothing. I have always intended to leave here as soon as I
was able to support myself. I can do so now, very easily, and
am going to board. Your master knows I intend to teach."
" But he has no idea that you are going to leave here before
he comes home, for he gave us all express orders to see that you
had just what you wanted. Oh, he will be in a tearing rage
when he hears of it ! Don't anger him, child I Do, pray, for
mercy's sake, don't anger him 1 He never forgets anything !
When he once sets his head, he is worse than David on the
Philistines ! If he is willing to support you, it his own lookout.
He is able, and his money is his own. His kin won't get it. He
and his brother don't speak ; and as for Miss May ! they never
did get along in peace, even before he was married. So, if he
chooses to give some of his fortune to you, it is nobody's business
BEULAH. 183
but his own ; and you are mighty simple, I can tell you, if you
don't stay here and take it."
" That will do, Harriet. I do not wish any more advice. I
don't want your master's fortune, even if I had the offer of it !
I am determined to make my own living : so just say no more
about it."
" Take care, child. Remember, ' Pride goeth before a fall /' "
" What do you mean ?" cried Beulah, angrily.
" I mean that the day is coming, when you will be glad
enough to come back and let my master take care of you !
That's what I mean. And see if it doesn't come to pass. But
he will not do it then ; I tell you now he won't. There is no
forgiving spirit about him ; he is as fierce, and bears malice as
long as a Camanche Injun 1 It is no business of mine though.
I have said my say : and I will be bound you will go your own
gait. You are just about as hard-headed as he is himself.
Anybody would almost believe you belonged to the Hartwell
family. Every soul of them is alike in the matter of temper ;
only Miss Pauline has something of her pa's disposition. I sup-
pose, now her ma is married again, she will want to come back
to her uncle; should not wonder if he 'dopted her, since you have
got the bit between your teeth."
" I hope he will," answered Beulah. She ill brooked Har-
riet's plain speech, but remembrances of past affection checked
the severe rebuke which more than once rose to her lips.
"We shall see; we shall see 1" and Harriet walked off with
anything but a placid expression of countenance, while Beulah
sought Mrs. Watson to explain her sudden departure, ~and
acquaint her with her plans for the summer. The housekeeper
endeavored most earnestly to dissuade her from taking the con-
templated step, assuring her that the doctor would be grieved
and displeased ; but her arguments produced no effect, and with
tears of regret, she bade her farewell.
The sun was setting when Beulah took possession of her room,
at Mrs. Hoyt's house. The furniture was very plain, and the
184 BEULAH.
want of several articles vividly recalled the luxurious home she
had abandoned. She unpacked and arranged her clothes, and
piled her books on a small table, which was the only substitute
for her beautiful desk and elegant rosewood bookcase. She
had gathered a superb bouquet of flowers, as she crossed the
front yard, and in lieu of her Sevres vases, placed them in a dim-
looking tumbler, which stood on the tall, narrow mantelpiece.
Her room was in the third s-tory, with two windows, one opening
to the south, and one to the west. It grew dark by the time
she had arranged the furniture, and too weary to think of going
down to tea, she unbound her hair, and took a seat beside the
window. The prospect was extended; below her were countless
lamps, marking the principal streets ; and, in the distance, the
dark cloud of masts, told that river and bay might be distinctly
seen by daylight. The quiet stars looked dim through the dusty
atmosphere, and the noise of numerous vehicles rattling by,
produced a confused impression, such as she had' never before
received at this usually calm twilight season. The events of the
day passed in a swift review, and a mighty barrier seemed to
have sprung up (as by some foul spell) between her guardian
and herself. What an immeasurable gulf now yawned to sepa-
rate them. Could it be possible that the friendly relations of
years were thus suddenly and irrevocably annulled ? Would he
relinquish all interest in one whom he had so long watched over
and directed ? Did he intend that they should be completely
estranged henceforth ? For the first time since Lilly's death,
she felt herself thrown upon the world. Alone and unaided, she
was essaying to carve her own fortune from the huge quarries,
where thousands were diligently laboring. An undefinable feel-
ing of desolation crept into her heart ; but she struggled despe-
rately against it, and asked, in proud defiance of her own
nature :
"Am I not sufficient unto myself? Leaning only on myself,
what more should I want ? Nothing ! His sympathy is utterly
unnecessary."
BETJLAH. 185
A knock at the door startled her, and in answer to her
11 come in," Clara Sanders entered. She walked slowly, and
seating herself beside Beulah, said, in a gentle but weary tone :
" How do you like your room ? I am so glad it opens into
mine."
" Quite as well as I expected. The view from this window
must be very fine. There is the tea-bell, I suppose. Are you
not going down ? I am too much fatigued to move."
"No; I never want supper, and generally spend the evenings
in my room. It is drearily monotonous here. Nothing to vary
the routine for me, except my afternoon walk, and recently the
warm weather has debarred me even from that. You are a
great walker, I believe, and I look forward to many pleasant
rambles with you, when I feel stronger, and autumn comes.
Beulah, how long does Dr. Hartwell expect to remain at the
North ? He told me, some time ago, that he was a delegate to
the Medical Convention."
" I believe it is rather uncertain ; but probably he will not
return before October."
" Indeed I That is a long time for a physician to absent
himself."
Just then an organ-grinder paused on the pavement beneath
the window, and began a beautiful air from " Sonnambula " It
was a favorite song of Beulah's, and as the melancholy tones
swelled on the night air, they recalled many happy hours spent
in the quiet study beside the melodeon. She leaned out of the
window till the last echo died away, and as the musician shoul-
dered his instrument and trudged off, she said, abruptly :
" Is there not a piano in the house !"
" Yes, just such a one as you might expect to find in a board-
ing-house, where unruly children are thrumming upon it from
morning till night. It was once a fine instrument, but now is
only capable of excruciating discords. You will miss your grand-
piano."
" I must have something in my own room to practise on.
186 BEULAH.
Perhaps I can hire a melodeon or piano for a moderate sum ; I
will try to-morrow."
" The Grahams are coming home soon, I hear. One of the
principal upholsterers boards here, and he mentioned this morn-
ing at breakfast that he had received a letter from Mr. Graham,
directing him to attend to the unpacking of an entirely new set
of furniture. Everything will be on a grand scale. I suppose
Eugene returns with them ?"
" Yes, they will all arrive in November."
11 It must be a delightful anticipation for you."
"Why so, pray?"
" Why ? Because you and Eugene are such old friends."
" Oh, yes ; as far as Eugene is concerned, of course it is a very
pleasant anticipation."
" He is identified with the Grahams."
" Not necessarily," answered Beulah, coldly.
A sad smile flitted over Clara's sweet face, as she rose and
kissed her friend's brow, saying gently :
" Good night, dear. I have a headache, and must try to
sleep it off. Since you have determined to battle with difficul-
ties, I am very glad to have you here with me. I earnestly hope
that success may crown your efforts, and the sunshine of happi-
ness dispel for you the shadows that have fallen thick about my
pathway. You have been rash, Beulah, and short-sighted ; but
I trust that all will prove for the best. Good night."
She glided away, and locking the door, Beulah returned to
her seat, and laid her head wearily down on the window-sill.
What a Hermes is thought ! Like a vanishing dream fled the
consciousness of surrounding objects, and she was with Eugene.
Now, in the earlier years of his absence, she was in Heidelberg,
listening to the evening chimes ; and rambling with him through
the heart of the Odenwald. Then they explored the Hartz,
climbed the Brocken, and there among the clouds, discussed the
adventures of Faust, and his kinsman, Manfred. Anon, the
arrival of the Grahams disturbed the quiet of Eugene's life, and
BEULAH. 187
far away from the picturesque haunts of Heidelberg students, he
wandered with them over Italy, Switzerland, and France. En-
grossed by these companions, he no longer found time to commune
with her, and when occasionally he penned a short letter, it was
hurried, constrained, and unsatisfactory. One topic had become
stereotyped ; he never failed to discourage the idea of teaching;
urged most earnestly the folly of such a step, and dwelt upon the
numerous advantages of social position arising from a residence
under her guardian's roof. We have seen that from the hour of
Lilly's departure from the Asylum, Beulah's affections, hopes,
pride, all centred in Eugene. There had long existed a tacit
compact, which led her to consider her future indissolubly linked
with his ; and his parting words seemed to seal this compact as
holy and binding, when he declared, " I mean, of course, to take
care of you myself, when I come home, for you know you belong
to me." His letters for many months retained the tone of dicta-
torship, but the tenderness seemed all to have melted away. He
wrote as if with a heart preoccupied by weightier matters, and
now Beulah could no longer conceal from herself the painful fact
that the man was far different from the boy. After five years'
absence, he was coming back a man ; engrossed by other thoughts
and feelings than those which had prompted him in days gone
by. With the tenacious hope of youth she still trusted that she
might have misjudged him ; he could never be other than noble
and generous ; she would silence her forebodings, and wait till
his return. She wished beyond all expression to see him once
more, and the prospect of a speedy reunion often made her heart
throb painfully. That he would reproach her for her obstinate
resolution of teaching, she was prepared to expect ; but strong
in the consciousness of duty, she committed herself to the care
of a merciful God, and soon slept as soundly as though under Dr.
Hartwell'g -oof.
188 BETJLAH.
CHAPTER XVII.
SOMETIMES, after sitting for five consecutive hours at the piano,
guiding the clumsy fingers of tyros, and listening to a tiresome
round of scales and exercises, Beulah felt exhausted, mentally
and physically, and feared that she had miserably overrated her
powers of endurance. The long, warm days of August dragged
heavily by, and each night she felt grateful that the summer was
one day nearer its grave. One afternoon, she proposed to Clara
to extend their walk to the home of her guardian, and as she
readily assented, they left the noise and crowd of the city, and
soon found themselves on the common.
" This is rny birthday," said Beulah, as they passed a clump
of pines, and caught a glimpse of the white gate beyond.
"Ah ! how old are you ?"
" Eighteen but I feel much older."
She opened the gate, and as they leisurely ascended the ave-
nue of aged cedars, Beulah felt once more as if she were going
home. A fierce bark greeted her, and the next moment Charon
fushed to meet her ; placing his huge paws on her shoulders,
and whining and barking joyfully. He bounded before her to
the steps, and laid down contentedly 011 the piazza. Harriet's
turbaned head appeared at the entrance, and a smile of welcome
lighted up her ebon face, as she shook Beulah's hand.
Mrs. Watson was absent, and after a few questions, Beulah
entered the study, saying :
" I want some books, Harriet ; and Miss Sanders wishes to see
the painting's."
Ah ! every chair and book-shelf greeted her like dear friends,
and she bent down over some volumes to hide the tears that
sprang into her eyes. The only really happy portion of her life
had been passed here j every article in the room was dear from
BEULAII. 189
association, and though only a month had elapsed since her
departure, those bygone years seemed far, far off, among thte
mist of very distant recollections. Thick and fast fell the hot
drops, until her eyes were blinded, and she could no longer dis-
tinguish the print they were riveted on. The memory of kind
smiles haunted her, and kinder tones seemed borne to her from
every corner of the apartment. Clara was eagerly examining
the paintings, and neither of the girls observed Harriet's en-
trance, until vshe asked :
" Do you know that the yellow fever has broke out here ?"
" Oh, you are mistaken I It can't be possible 1" cried Clara,
turning pale.
" I tell you, it is a fact. There are six cases now at the hos-
pital ; Hal was there this morning. I have lived here a good
many years, and from the signs, I think we are going to have
dreadfully sickly times. You young ladies had better keep out
of the sun ; first thing you know, you will have it,"
" Who told you there was yellow fever at the hospital ?"
" Dr. Asbury said so ; and what is more, Hal has had it him-
self, and nursed people who had it ; and he says it is the worst
sort of yellow fever."
" I am not afraid of it," said Beulah, looking up for the first
time.
" I am dreadfully afraid of it," answered Clara, with a nervous
shudder.
" Then you had better leave town as quick as possible, for
folks who are easily scared always catch it soonest."
" Nonsense 1" cried Beulah, noting the deepening pallor of
Clara's face.
" Oh, I will warrant, if everybody else every man, woman,
and child in the city takes it, you won't ! Miss Beulah, I
should like to know what you are afraid of !" muttered Harriet,
scanning the orphan's countenance, and adding, in a louder tone:
" Have you heard anything from master ?"
" No." Benlah bit her lips to conceal her emotion.
190 BEULAH.
" Hal hears from him. He was in New York when he wrote
the last letter." She took a malicious pleasure in thus torturing
her visitor ; and, determined not to gratify her by any manifesta-
tion of interest or curiosity, Beulah took up a couple of volumes
and turned to the door, saying :
" Come, Clara, we must each have a bouquet. Harriet, where
are the flower-scissors ? Dr. Hartwell never objected to my
carefully cutting even his choicest flowers. There I Clara, listen
to the cool rippling of the fountain. How I have longed to hear
its silvery murmur once more ?"
They went out into the front yard. Clara wandered about
the flower-beds, gathering blossoms which were scattered in
lavish profusion on all sides ; and leaning over the marble basin,
Beulah bathed her brow in the crystal waters. There was be-
witching beauty and serenity in the scene before her, and as
Charon nestled his great head against her hand, she found it
very difficult to realize the fact that she had left this lovely
retreat for the small room at Mrs. Hoyt's boarding-house. It
was not her habit, however, to indulge in repinings, and though
feer ardent appreciation of beauty rendered the place incalcula-
bly dear to her, she resolutely gathered a cluster of flowers,
bade adieu to Harriet, and descended the avenue. Charon
walked soberly beside her, now and then looking up, as if to
inquire the meaning of her long absence, and wonder at her
sudden departure. At the gate she patted him affectionately on
the head, and passed out ; he made no attempt to follow her,
but barked violently, and then laid down at the gate, whining
mournfully.
" Poor Charon ! I wish I might have him," said she, sadly.
"I dare say the doctor would give him to you," answered
Clara, very simply.
" I would just as soon think of asking him for his own head,"
replied Beulah.
" It is a mystery to me, Beulah, how you can feel so coldly
toward Dr. Hartwell."
BEULAH. 191
"I should very much like to know what you mean by that?"
said Beulah, involuntarily crushing the flowers she held.
" Why, you speak of him just as you would of anybody else."
" Well ?"
" You seem to be afraid of him."
" To a certain extent, I am ; and so is everybody else who
knows him intimately."
" This fear is unjust to him."
" How so, pray ?"
" Because he is too noble to do aught to inspire it."
"Certainly he is feared, nevertheless, by all who know him
well."
" It seems to me that, situated as you have been, you would
almost worship him !"
" I am not addicted to worshipping anything but God 1" an-
swered Beulah, shortly.
" You are an odd compound, Beulah. Sometimes I think you
must be utterly heartless I"
" Thank you."
" Don't be hurt. But you are so cold, so freezing ; you chill me."
" Do I ? Dr. Hartwell (your Delphic oracle it seems), says I
am as fierce as a tropical tornado."
" I do not understand how you can bear to give up such an
enchanting home, and go to hard work, as if you were driven to
it from necessity."
" Do not go over all that beaten track again, if you please.
It is not my home 1 I can be just as happy, nay happier, in my
little room."
" I doubt it," said Clara, pertinaciously.
Stopping suddenly, and fixing her eyes steadily on her com-
panion, Beulah hastily asked :
" Clara Sanders, why should you care if my guardian and I
are separated ?"
A burning blush dyed cheek and brow, as Clara drooped her
head, and answered :
192 BEULAH.
" Because he is my friend also, and I know that your departure
will grieve him."
" You over-estimate my worth, and his interest. He is a man
who lives in a world of his own and needs no society, save such
as is afforded in his tasteful and elegant home. He loves books,
flowers, music, paintings, and his dog ! He is a stern man, and
shares his griefs and joys with no one. All this I have told you
before."
There was a long silence, broken at last by an exclamation
from Beulah :
" Oh ! how beautiful I how silent ! how solemn ! Look down
the long dim aisles. It is an oratory where my soul comes to
worship 1 Presently the breeze will rush up from the gulf, and
sweep the green organ, and a melancholy chant will swell through
these dusky arches. Oh, what are Gothic cathedrals, and gilded
shrines in comparison with these grand forest temples, where the
dome is the bending vault of God's blue, and the columns are
these everlasting pines 1" She pointed to a thick clump of pines
sloping down to a ravine.
The setting sun threw long quivering rays through the cluster-
ing boughs, and the broken beams, piercing the gloom beyond,
showed the long aisles as in a " cathedral light."
As Clara looked down the dim glade, and then watched Beu-
lah's parted lips and sparkling eyes, as she stood bending forward
with rapturous delight written on every feature, she thought that
she had indeed misjudged her in using the epithets " freezing and
heartless."
11 You are enthusiastic," said she, gently.
" How can I help it ? I love the grand and beautiful too well
to offer a tribute of silent admiration. Oh, ray homage is that
of a whole heart 1"
They reached home in the gloaming, and each retired to her
own room. For a mere trifle Beulah had procured the use of a
melodeon, and now, after placing the drooping flowers in water,
she sat down before the instrument and poured out the joy of her
BETJLAH. 193
soul in song. Sad memories no longer floated like corpses on the
sea of the past ; grim forebodings crouched among the mists of
the future, and she sang song after song, exulting in the gladness
of her heart. An analysis of these occasional hours of delight
was as impossible as their creation. Sometimes she was con-
scious of their approach, while gazing up at the starry islets in the
boundless lake of azure sky ; or when a gorgeous sunset pageant
was passing away ; sometimes from hearing a solemn chaut in
church, or a witching strain from a favorite opera. Sometimes
from viewing dim old pictures ; sometimes from reading a sub-
lime passage in some old English or German author. It was a
serene elevation of feeling ; an unbounded peace ; a chastened
joyousness, which she was rarely able to analyze, but which iso-
lated her for a time from all surrounding circumstances. How
long she sang on the present occasion she knew not, and only
paused on hearing a heavy sob behind her. Turning round, she
saw Clara sitting near, with her face in her hands. Kneeling
beside her, Beulah wound her arms around her, and asked ear-
nestly :
" What troubles you, my friend ? May I not know ?"
Clara dropped her head on Beulah's shoulder, and answered
hesitatingly :
"The tones of your voice always sadden me. They are like
organ-notes, solemn and awful ! Yes awful, and yet very sweet
sweeter than any music I ev$r heard. Your singing fascinates
me, yet, strange as it may seem, it very often makes me weep.
There is an unearthliness, a spirituality that affects me singu-
larly."
" I am glad that is all. I was afraid you were distressed
about something. Here, take my rocking-chair; I am going to
read, and if you like, you may have the benefit of my book."
"Beulah, do put away your books for one night, and let us
have a quiet time. Don't study now. Come, sit here, and talk
to me."
" Flatterer, do you pretend that you prefer my chattering to
9
194 BEULAH.
the wonderful words of a man who ' talked like an angel ?' You
must listen to the tale of that ' Ancient Mariner with glittering
eye.'
" Spare me that horrible ghostly story of vessels freighted
with staring corpses ! Ugh ! it curdled the blood in my veins
once, and I shut the book in disgust. Don't begin it now, for
heaven's sake !"
" Why, Clara ? It is the most thrilling poem in the English
language. Each reperusal fascinates me more and more. It
requires a dozen readings to initiate you fully into its weird,
supernatural realms."
" Yes ; and it is precisely for that reason that I don't choose
to hear it. There is quite enough of the grim and hideous in
reality, without hunting it up in pages of fiction. When I read,
I desire to relax my mind, not put it on the rack, as your
favorite books invariably do. Absolutely, Beulah, after listening
to some of your pet authors, I feel as if I had been standing on
my nead. You need not look so coolly incredulous ; it is a
positive fact. As for that ' Ancient Mariner 7 you are so fond
of, I am disposed to take the author's own opinion of it, as
expressed in those lines addressed to himself."
" I suppose, then, you fancy 'Christabel' as little as the other,
seeing that it is a tale of witchcraft. How would you relish
that grand anthem to nature's God, written in the vale of
Chamouni ?"
" I never read it," answered Clara, very quietly.
"What? Never read 'Sibylline Leaves?' Why, I will
wager my head that you have parsed from them a thousand
times ! Never read that magnificent hymn before sunrise, in
the midst of glaciers and snow-crowned, cloud-piercing peaks ?
Listen, then ; and if you don't feel like falling upon your
knees, you have not a spark of poetry in your soul !"
She drew the lamp close to her, and read aloud. Her finely
modulated voice was peculiarly adapted to the task, and her
expressive countenance faithfully depicted the contending emo-
BEULAH. 195
tions wliich filled her mind as she read. Clara listened with
pleased interest, and when the short poem was concluded,
said :
11 Thank you; it is beautiful. I have often seen extracts from
it. Still, there is a description of Mont Blanc in ' Manfred '
which I believe I like quite as well."
" What ? That witch fragment ?"
" Yes."
" I don't understand ' Manfred/ Here and there are passages
in cipher. I read and catch a glimpse of hidden meaning ; I
read again, and it vanishes in mist. It seems to me a poern of
symbols, dimly adumbrating truths, which my clouded intellect
clutches at in vain. I have a sort of shadowy belief that
4 Astarte/ as in its ancient mythological significance, symbolizes
nature. There is a dusky veil of mystery shrouding her, which
favors my idea of her, as representing the universe. Manfred,
with daring hand, tore away that ' Veil of Isis/ which no mortal
had ever pierced before, and, maddened by the mockery of the
stony features, paid the penalty of his sacrilegious rashness, and
fled from the temple, striving to shake off the curse. My
guardian has a curious print of ' Astarte, 7 taken from some Euro-
pean Byronic gallery. I have studied it, until almost it seemed
to move and speak to me. She is clad in the ghostly drapery
of the tomb, just as invoked by Nemesis, with trailing tresses,
closed eyes, and folded hands. The features are dim, spectral,
yet marvellously beautiful. Almost one might think the eyelids
quivered, there is such an air of waking dreaminess. That this
is a false and inadequate conception of Byron's ' Astarte/ I feel
assured, and trust that I shall yet find the key to this enigma.
It interests me greatly, and by some inexplicable process, when-
ever I sit pondering the mystery of Astarte, that wonderful
creation in Shirley presents itself. Astarte becomes in a trice,
that ' woman-Titan/ Nature, kneeling before the red hills of the
west, at her evening prayers. I see her prostrate on the great
steps of her altar, praying for a fair night, for mariners at sea,
196 BEUIAH.
for lambs in moors, and unfledged birds in woods. Her robe of
blue air spreads to the outskirts of the heath. A veil, white as
an avalanche, sweeps from her head to her feet, and arabesques
of lightning flame on its borders. I see her zone, purple, like
the horizon ; through its blush shines the star of evening. Her
forehead has the expanse of a cloud, and is paler than the early
moon, risen long before dark gathers. She reclines on the ridge
of Stillbro'-Moor, her mighty hands are joined beneath it. So
kneeling, face to face, ' Nature speaks with God.' Oh! I would
give twenty years of my life to have painted that Titan's por-
trait. I would rather have been the author of this, than have
wielded the sceptre of Zenobia, in the palmiest days of
Palmyra I"
She spoke rapidly, and with white lips that quivered. Clara
looked at her wonderingly, and said, hesitatingly :
" I don't understand the half of what you have been saying.
It sounds to me very much as if you had stumbled into a lumber-
room of queer ideas ; snatched up a handful, all on different
subjects, and woven them into a speech as incongruous as
Joseph's variegated coat." There was no reply. Beulah's
hands were -clasped on the table before her, and she leaned
forward with eyes fixed steadily on the floor. Clara waited a
moment, and then continued :
" I never noticed any of the mysteries of ' Manfred,' that seem
to trouble you so much. I enjoy the fine passages, and never
think of the hidden meanings, as you call them ; whereas it
seems you are always plunging about in the dark, hunting you
know not what. I am content to glide on the surface, and "
" And live in the midst of foam and bubbles !" cried Beulah,
with a gesture of impatience.
" Better that, than grope among subterranean caverns, black
and icy, as you are forever doing. You are even getting
a weird, unearthly look. Sometimes, when I come in, and find
you, book in hand, with that far-off expression in your eyes, I
really dislike to speak to you. There is no more color in your
BEULAH. 197
face and hands, than in that wall yonder. You will dig your
grave among books, if you don't take care. There is such a
thing as studying too much. Your mind is perpetually at work ;
all day you are thinking, thinking, thinking ; and at night, since
the warm weather has made me open the door between our
rooms, I hear you talking earnestly and rapidly in your sleep.
Last week I came in on tip-toe, and stood a few minutes beside
your bed. The moon shone in through the window, and though
you were fast asleep, I saw that you tossed your hands restlessly;
while I stood there, you spoke aloud, in an incoherent manner,
of the ' Dream Fugue/ and ' Vision of sudden Death/ and now
and then you frowned, and sighed heavily, as if you were in pain.
Music is a relaxation to most people, but it seems to put your
thoughts on the rack. You will wear yourself out prematurely,
if you don't quit this constant studying."
She rose to go, and, glancing up at her, Beulah answered,
musingly :
"We are very unlike. The things that I love, you shrink
from as dull and tiresome. I live in a different world. Books
are, to me, what family, and friends, and society, are to other
people. It may be that the isolation of my life necessitates this.
Doubtless, you often find me abstracted. Are you going so
soon ? I had hoped we should spend a profitable evening, but it
has slipped away, and I have done nothing. Good night." She
rose and gave the customary good-night kiss, and as Clara
retired to her own room, Beulah turned up the wick of her lamp,
and resumed her book. The gorgeous mazes of Coleridge no
longer imprisoned her fancy ; it wandered mid the silence, and
desolation, and sand rivulets of the Thebaid desert ; through the
date groves of the lonely Laura ; through the museums of Alex-
andria. Over the cool, crystal depths of " Hypatia/' her thirsty
spirit hung eagerly. In Philammon's intellectual nature she found
a startling resemblance to her own. Like him, she had entered
a forbidden temple, and learned to question ; and the same
" insatiable craving to know the mysteries of learning " was
198 BEULAH.
impelling her, with irresistible force, out into the world of philo-
sophic inquiry. Hours fled on unnoted ; with nervous haste the
leaves were turned. The town clock struck three. As she
finished the book, and laid it on the table, she bowed her head
upon her hands. She was bewildered. Was Kingsley his own
Raphael- Aben-Ezra ? or did he heartily believe in the Christi-
anity of which he had given so hideous a portraiture ? Her
brain whirled, yet there was a great dissatisfaction. She could
not contentedly go back to the Laura with Philanimon ;
" Hypatia " was not sufficiently explicit. She was dissatisfied ;
there was more than this Alexandrian ecstasy, to which Hypatia
was driven ; but where, and how should she find it ? Who
would guide her ? Was not her guardian, in many respects, as
skeptical as Raphael himself ? Dare she enter, alone and un-
aided, this Cretan maze of investigation, where all the wonderful
lore of the gifted Hypatia had availed nothing ? What was her
intellect given her for, if not to be thus employed ? Her head
ached with the intensity of thought, and as she laid it on her
pillow and closed her eyes, day looked out over the eastern sky.
The ensuing week was one of anxious apprehension to all
within the city. Harriet's words seemed prophetic ; there was
every intimation of a sickly season. Yellow fever had made its
appearance in several sections of the town, in its most malignant
type. The Board of Health devised various schemes for arrest-
ing the advancing evil. The streets were powdered with lime,
and huge fires of tar kept constantly burning, yet daily, hourly,
the fatality increased ; and as colossal ruin strode on, the terri-
fied citizens fled in all directions. In ten days the epidemic
began to make fearful havoc ; all classes and ages were assailed
indiscriminately. Whole families were stricken down in a day,
and not one member spared to aid the others. The exodus was
only limited by impossibility ; all who could, abandoned their
homes, and sought safety in flight. These were the fortunate
minority ; and, as if resolved to wreak its fury on the remainder,
the contagion spread into every quarter of the city. Not even
B E U L A H . 191)
physicians were spared ; and those who escaped, trembled in
anticipation of the fell stroke. Many doubted that it was yellow
lev.-!-, and conjectured that the veritable plague had crossed the
ocean. Of all Mrs. Hoyt's boarders, but half-a-dozen determined
to hazard remaining in the infected region ; these were Beulah,
Clara, and four gentlemen. Gladly would Clara have fled to a
place of safety, had it been in her power ; but there was no one
to accompany or watch over her, and as she was forced to wit-
ness the horrors of the season, a sort of despair seemed to nerve
her trembling frame. Mrs. Watson had been among the first to
leave the city. Madam St. Cymon had disbanded her school ;
and as only her three daughters continued to take music lessons,
Beulah had ample leisure to contemplate the distressing scenes
which surrounded her. At noon, one September day, she stood
at the open window of her room. The air was intensely hot ;
the drooping leaves of the China-trees were motionless ; there
was not a breath of wind stirring ; and the sable plumes of the
hearses were still as their burdens. The brazen, glittering sky,
seemed a huge glowing furnace, breathing out only scorching
heat. Beulah leaned out of the window, and wiping away the
heavy drops that stood on her brow, looked down the almost
deserted street. Many of the stores were closed ; whilom busy
haunts were silent ; and very few persons were visible, save the
drivers of two hearses, and of a cart filled with coffins. The
church bells tolled unceasingly, and the desolation, the horror,
was indescribable, as the sable wings of the destroyer hung over
the doomed city. Out of her ten fellow-graduates, four slept in
the cemetery. The night before, she had watched beside another,
and at dawn, saw the limbs stiffen, and the eyes grow sightless.
Among her former schoolmates, the contagion had been parti-
cularly fatal, and, fearless of danger, she had nursed two of them.
As she stood fanning herself, Clara entered hurriedly, and sinking
into a chair, exclaimed, in accents of terror :
" It has come ! as I knew it would ! Two of Mrs. Iloyt's
children have beeu taken, and, I believe, one of the waiters also!
BEULAH.
Merciful God ! what will become of me ?" Her teeth chattered,
and she trembled from head to foot.
" Don't be alarmed, Clara ! Your excessive terror is your
greatest danger. If you would escape, you must keep as quiet
as possible.
She poured out a glass of water, and made her drink it; then
asked:
" Can Mrs. Hoyt get medical aid?"
" No; she has sent for every doctor in town, and not one has
come."
" Then I will go down and assist her." Beulah turned toward
the door, but Clara caught her dress, and said hoarsely:
" Are you mad, thus continually to put your life in jeopardy ?
Are you shod with immortality, that you thrust yourself into the
very path of destruction ?"
"I am not afraid of the fever, and therefore think I shall not
take it. As long as I am able to be up, I shall do all that I
can to relieve the sick. Remember, Clara, nurses are not to be
had now for any sum." She glided down the steps, and found
the terrified mother wringing her hands helplessly over the
stricken ones. The children were crying on the bed, and with
the energy which the danger demanded, Beulah speedily ordered
the mustard baths, and administered the remedies she had seen
prescribed on previous occasions. The fever rose rapidly, and
undaunted by thoughts of personal danger, she took her place
beside the bed. It was past midnight when Dr. Asbury came ;
exhausted and haggard from unremitting toil and vigils, he
looked several years older than when she had last seen him.
He started on perceiving her perilous post, and said anxiously :
" Oh, you are rash! very rash! What would Hartwell say ?
What will he think when he comes ?"
"Comes! Surely you have not urged him to come back
now!" said she, grasping his arm convulsively.
" Certainly. I telegraphed to him to come home by express.
You need not look so troubled ; he has had this Egyptian
BE U LA II . 201
plague, will run no risk, and even if he should, will return as
soon as possible."
" Are you sure that he has had the fever ?"
"Yes, sure. I nursed him myself, the summer after he came
from Europe, and thought he would die. That was the last
sickly season \ve have had for years, but this caps the climax of
all I ever saw or heard of in America. Thank God, my wife
and children are far away; and, free from apprehension on their
account, I can do my duty."
All this was said in an undertone, and after advising every-
thing that could possibly be done, he left the room, beckoning
Beulah after him. She followed, and he said earnestly:
" Child, I tremble for you. Why did you leave HartwelFs
house, and incur all this peril ? Beulah, though it is nobly
unselfish in you to devote yourself to the sick, as you are doing,
it may cost you your life nay, most probably it will."
" I have thought of it all, sir, and determined to do my duty."
" Then God preserve you. Those children have been taken
violently; watch them closely; good nursing is worth all the
apothecary shops. You need not send for me any more; I am
out constantly; whenever I can I will come; meantime, depend
only on the nursing. Should you be taken yourself, let me know
at once ; do not fail. A word more keep yourself well stimulated."
He hurried away, and she returned to the sick-room, to
speculate on the probability of soon meeting her guardian.
Who can tell how dreary were the days and nights that fol-
lowed ? Mrs. Iloyt took the fever, and mother and children
moaned together. On the morning of the fourth day, the eldest
child, a girl of eight years, died, with Beulah's hand grasped in
hers. Happily, the mother was unconscious, and the little corpse
was borne into an adjoining room. Beulah shrank from the task
which she felt, for the first time in her life, called on to perform.
She could nurse the living, but dreaded the thought of shrouding
the dead. Still, there was no one else to do it, and she bravely
conquered her repugnance, and clad the young sleeper for the
9*
202 B E U L A H .
tornb. The gentlemen boarders, who had luckily escaped,
arranged the mournful particulars of the burial ; and after
severing a sunny lock of hair for the mother, should she live,
Beuiah saw the cold form borne out to its last resting-place.
Another gloomy day passed slowly, and she was rewarded by
the convalescence of the remaining sick child. Mrs. Hoyt still
hung upon the confines of eternity; and Beuiah, who had not
closed her eyes for many nights, was leaning over the bed,
counting the rushing pulse, when a rapid step caused her to
look up, and falling forward in her arms, Clara cried:
" Save me! save me! The chill is on me now!"
It was too true; and as Beuiah assisted her to her room, and
carefully bathed her feet, her heart was heavy with dire dread
lest Clara's horror of the disease should augment its ravages.
Dr. Asbury was summoned with all haste, but as usual seemed
an age in coming, and when at last he came, could only pre-
scribe what had already been done. It was pitiable to watch
the agonized expression of Clara's sweet face, as she looked
from the countenance of the physician to that of her friend,
striving to discover their opinion of her case.
" Doctor, you must send Hal to me. He can nurse Mrs.
Hoyt and little Willie while I watch Clara. I can't possibly
Lake care of all three, though Willie is a great deal better.
Can you send him at once ? he is a good nurse."
"Yes, he has been nursing poor Tom Hamil, but he died
about an hour ago, and Hal is released. I look for Hartwell
hourly. You do keep up amazingly I Bless you, Beuiah 1"
Wringing her hand, he descended the stairs.
Reentering the room, Beuiah sat down beside Clara, and
taking one burning hand in her cool palms, pressed it softly,
saying, in an encouraging tone :
" I feel so much relieved about Willie, he is a great deal bet-
ter ; and I think Mrs. Hoyt's fever is abating. You were not
taken so severely as Willie, and if you will go to sleep quietly, I
believe you will only have a light attack."
B E U L A II . 203
" Did those down-stairs have black-vomit ?" asked Clara, shud-
d crinkly.
" Lizzie had it ; the others did not. Try not to think about
it. Go to sleep."
" What was that the doctor said about Dr. Hartwell ? I
could not hear very well, you talked so low. Ah ! tell me,
Beulah."
" Only that he is coming home soon that was all. Don't
talk any more."
Clara closed her eyes, but tears stole from beneath the lashes,
and coursed rapidly down her glowing cheeks. The lips moved
in prayer, and her fingers closed tightly over those of her com-
panion. Beulah felt that her continued vigils and exertions
were exhausting her. Her limbs trembled when she walked,
and there was a dull pain in her head, which she could not
banish. Her appetite had long since forsaken, her, and it was
only by the exertion of a determined will that she forced herself
to eat. She was warmly attached to Clara, and the dread of losing
this friend caused her to suffer keenly. Occasionally she stole
away to see the other sufferers, fearing that when Mrs. Hoyt
discovered Lizzie's death, the painful intelligence would seal her
own fate. It was late at night. She had just returned from one
of these hasty visits, and finding that Hal was as attentive as
any one could be, she threw herself, weary and anxious, into an
arm-chair beside Clara's bed. The crimson face was turned
toward her, the parched lips parted, the panting breath, labored
and irregular. The victim was delirious ; the hazel eyes, in-
flamed and vacant, rested on Beulah's countenance, and she
murmured :
" He will never know ! Oh, no ! how should he ? The grave
will soon shut me in, and I shall see him no more no more !"
She shuddered and turned away.
Beulah leaned her head against the bed, and as a tear slid
down upon her hand, she thought and said with bitter sorrow :
" I would rather see her the victim of death, than have her
204 B E U L A H .
drag out an aimless, cheerless existence, rendered joyless by this
hopeless attachment !"
She wondered whether Dr. Ilartwell suspected this love. He
was remarkably quick-sighted, and men, as well as women, were
very vain, and wont to give even undue weight to every circum-
stance which flattered their self-love. She had long seen this
partiality ; would not the object of it be quite as penetrating?
Clara was very pretty ; nay, at times she was beautiful. If con-
scious of her attachment, could he ever suffer himself to be
influenced by it ? No ; impossible ! There were utter antagon-
isms of taste and temperament which rendered it very certain
that she would not suit him for a companion. Yet she was very
lovable. Beulah walked softly across the room and leaned out
of the window. An awful stillness brooded over the scourged
city.
" The moving moon went up the sky,
And nowhere did abide ;
Softly she was going up,
And a star or two beside."
The soft beams struggled to pierce the murky air, dense with
smoke from the burning pitch. There was no tread on the
pavement , all was solemn as Death, who held such mad revel in
the crowded graveyards. Through the shroud of smoke she
could see the rippling waters of the bay, as the faint southern
breeze swept its surface. It was a desolation realizing all the
horrors of the " Masque of the Red Death," and as she thought
of the mourning hearts in that silent city, of Clara's danger and
her own, Beulah repeated, sadly, those solemn lines :
" Like clouds that rake the mountain summit.
Or waves that own no curbing hand,
How fast has brother followed brother,
From sunshine to the sunless land!"
Clasping her hands, she added, earnestly :
BEULAH. 205
" I thank thee, my Father ! that the Atlanta rolls between
Eugene and this ' besom of destruction. 7 "
A touch on her shoulder caused her to look around, and her
eyes rested on her guardian. She started, but did not speak,
and held .out her hand. He looked at her, long and searchiugly;
his lip trembled, and instead of taking her offered hand, he
passed his arm around her, and drew her to his bosom. She
looked up, with surprise ; and bending his haughty head, he
kissed her pale brow, for the first time. She felt then that she
would like to throw her arms round his neck, and tell him how
very glad she was to see him again -how unhappy his sudden
departure had made her ; but a feeling she could not pause to
analyze, prevented her from following the dictates of her heart;
and holding her off, so as to scan her countenance, Dr. Hartwell
said :
" How worn and haggard you look 1 Oh, child ! your rash
obstinacy has tortured me beyond expression."
" I have but done my duty. It has been a horrible time. I
am glad you have come. You will not let Clara die."
" Sit down, child. You are trembling from exhaustion."
He drew up a chair for her, and taking her wrist in his hand,
said, as he examined the slow pulse :
" Was Clara taken violently ? How is she ?"
" She is delirious, and so much alarmed at her danger that I
feel very uneasy about her. Come and see her ; perhaps she will
know you." She led the way to the bedside ; but there was no
recognition in the wild, restless eyes, and as she tossed from side
to side, her incoherent muttering made Beulah dread lest she
should discover to its object the adoring love which filled her
pure heart. She told her guardian what had been prescribed.
He offered no suggestion as to the treatment, but gave a potion
which she informed him was due. As Clara swallowed the
draught, she looked at him, and said eagerly :
" Has he come ? Did he say he would see me and save me ?
Did Dr. Hartwell send me this ?"
206 BE FLAK.
" She raves," said Beulah, hastily.
A shadow fell upoii his face, and stooping over the pillow, he
answered, very gently :
" Yes, he has come to save you. He is here."
She smiled, and seemed satisfied for a moment, then moaned,
and muttered on indistinctly.
" He knows it all ? Oh, poor, poor Clara !" thought Beulah,
shading her face, to prevent his reading what passed in her mind.
" How long have you been sitting up, Beulah ?"
She told him.
"It is no wonder you look as if years had suddenly passed
over your head ! You have a room here, I believe. Go to it, and
go to sleep ; I will not leave Clara."
It was astonishing how his presence removed the dread weight
of responsibility from her heart. Not until this moment had she
felt as if she could possibly sleep.
" I will sleep now, so as to be refreshed for to-morrow and to-
morrow night. Here is a couch, I will sleep here, and if Clara
grows worse you must wake me." She crossed the room, threw
herself on the couch, and laid her aching head on her arm. Dr.
Hartwell placed a pillow under the head ; once more his fingers
sought her wrist ; once mOre his lips touched her forehead, and
as he returned to watch beside Clara, and listen to her ravings,
Beulah sank into a heavy, dreamless sleep of exhaustion.
CHAPTER XVIII.
SHE was awakened by the cool pattering of rain-drops, which
beat through the shutters and fell upon her face. She sprang
up with a thrill of delight, and looked out. A leaden sky low-
ered over the city, and as the torrents came down in whitening
sheets, the thunder rolled continuously over head, and trailing
BEULAH. 207
wreaths of smoke from the dying fires, drooped like banners over
the roofs of the houses. Not the shower which gathered and
fell around sea-girt Carmel was more gratefully received.
" Thank God ! it rains 1" cried Beulah, and turning toward
Clara, she saw with pain that the sufferer was all unconscious of
the tardy blessing. She kissed the hot, dry brow ; but no token
of recognition greeted her anxious gaze. The fever was at its
height ; the delicate features were strangely sharpened and dis-
torted. Save the sound of her labored breathing, the room was
silent, and sinking on her knees, Beulah prayed earnestly that the
gentle sufferer might be spared. As she rose, her guardian en-
tered, and she started at the haggard, wasted, harassed look of
the noble face, which she had not observed before. He bent
down and coaxed Clara to take a spoonful of medicine, and Beu-
lah asked, earnestly :
" Have you been ill, sir ?"
" No."
He did not even glance at her. The affectionate cordiality
of the hour of meeting had utterly vanished. He looked as
cold, stern, and impenetrable as some half-buried sphinx of the
desert.
" Have you seen the others this morning ?" said she, making
a strong effort to conceal the chagrin this revulsion of feeling
occasioned.
" Yes ; Mrs. Hoyt will get well."
" Does she know of her child's death ?"
" Yes."
" You are not going, surely ?" she continued, as he took his hat
and glanced at his watch.
' "I am needed elsewhere. Only nursing can now avail here.
You know very well what is requisite. Either Dr. Asbury or I
will be here again to-night, to sit up with this gentle girl."
" You need neither of you come to sit up with her. I will do
that myself. I shall not sleep another moment until I know that
she is better."
208 13 E U L A H .
"Very well." He left the room immediately.
" How he cases his volcanic nature in ice," thought Beulah,
sinking into the arm-chair. " Last night he seemed so kind, so
cordial, so much my friend and guardian 1 To-day there is a
mighty barrier, as though he stood on some towering crag, and
talked to me across an iufiuite gulf ! Well, well, even an Arctic
night passes away ; and I can afford to wait till his humor
changes."
For many hours the rain fell unceasingly, but toward sunset
the pall of clouds was scourged on by a brisk western breeze,
and the clear canopy of heaven, no longer fiery as for days past,
but cool and blue, bent serenely over the wet earth. The slant-
ing rays of the swiftly sinking sun flashed through dripping
boughs, creating myriads of diamond sprays ; and over the spark-
ling waters of the bay sprang a brilliant bow, arching superbly
along the eastern horizon, where a bank of clouds still lay.
Verily, it seemed a new covenant, that the destroying demon
should no longer desolate the beautiful city, and to many an
anxious, foreboding heart that glorious rainbow gave back hope
and faith. A cool, quiet twilight followed. Beulah knew that
hearses still bore the dead to their silent chambers ; she could
hear the rumbling, the melancholy, solemn sound of the wheels ;
but firm trust reigned in her heart, and with Clara's hand in
hers, she felt an intuitive assurance that the loved one would not
yet be summoned from her earthly field of action. The sick in
the other part of the house were much better, and though one
of the gentlemen boarders had been taken since morning, she
lighted the lamp and stole about the room with a calmer, happier
spirit than she had known for many days. She fancied that her
charge breathed more easily, and the wild stare of the inflamed
eyes was concealed under the long lashes which lay on the
cheeks. The sufferer slept, and the watcher augured favorably.
About nine o'clock she heard steps on the stairs, and soon after
Doctors Asbury and Hartwell entered together. There was little
to be told, and less to be advised, and while the latter atten-
BEULAH. 209
tively examined the pulse, and looked down at the altered coun-
tenance, stamped with the signet of the dread disease, the
fonne-r took Beulah's hand in both his, and said kindly :
"How do you do, my little heroine? By Nebros! you are
worth your weight in medical treatises. How are you, little
one ?"
" Quite well, thank you, sir, and I dare say I am much more
able to sit up with the sick than you, who have had no respite
whatever. Don't stand up, when you must be so weary ; take
this easy-chair." Holding his hand firmly, she drew him down
to it. There had always been a fatherly tenderness in his man-
ner toward her, when visiting at her guardian's, and she regarded
him with reverence and affection. Though often blunt, he never
chilled nor repelled her, as his partner so often did, and now
she stood beside him, still holding one of his hands. He
smoothed back the grey hair from his furrowed brow, and with
a twinkle in his blue eye, said :
" How much will you take for your services ? I want to
engage you to teach my madcap daughters a little quiet bravery
and uncomplaining endurance."
" I have none of the Shylock in my composition ; only give
me a few kind words and I shall be satisfied. Now, once for all,
Dr. Asbury, if you treat me to any more barefaced flattery of
ttiis sort, I nurse no more of your patients."
Dr. Hartwell here directed his partner's attention to Clara,
and thoroughly provoked at the pertinacity with which he
avoided noticing her, she seized the brief opportunity to visit
Mrs. Hoyt and little Willie. The mother welcomed her with a
silent grasp of the hand and gush of tears. But this was no
time for acknowledgments, and Beulah strove, by a few encou-
raging remarks, to cheer the bereaved parent and interest
Willie, who, like all other children under such circumstances,
had grown fretful. She shook up their pillows, iced a freph
pitcher of water for them, and promising to run down and see
them often, now that Hal was forced to give his attention to the
BEULAH.
last victim, she noiselessly stole back to Clara's room. Dr. Hart-
well was walking up and down the floor, and his companion sat
just as she had left him. He rose as she entered, and putting
on his hat, 'said, kindly :
" Are you able to sit up with Miss Sanders to-night ? If not,
say so candidly."
" I am able, and determined to do so."
" Very well. After to-morrow it will not be needed."
" What do you mean ?" cried Beulah, clutching his arm.
" Don't look so savage, child. She will either be convales-
cent, or beyond all aid. I hope and believe the former. Watch
her closely till I see you again. Good night, dear child." He
stepped to the door; and with a slight inclination of his head,
Dr. Hartwell followed him.
It was a vigil Beulah never forgot. The night seemed inter-
minable, as if the car of time were driven backward, and she
longed inexpressibly for the dawning of day. Four o'clock
came at last ; silence brooded over the town ; the western
breeze had sung itself to rest, and there was a solemn hush, as
though all nature stood still, to witness the struggle between
dusky Azrael and a human soul. Clara slept. The distant stars
looked down encouragingly from their homes of blue, and once
more the lonely orphan bent her knee in supplication before the
throne of Jehovah. But a cloud seemed hovering between her
heart and the presence-chamber of Deity. In vain she prayed,
and tried to believe that life would be spared in answer to her
petitions. Faith died in her soul, and she sat with her eyes
riveted upon the face of her friend. The flush of consuming
fever paled, the pulse was slow and feeble, and by the grey light
of day, Beulah saw that the face was strangely changed. For
several hours longer she maintained her watch ; still, the doctor
did not come, and while she sat with Clara's fingers clasped in
hers, the brown eyes opened, and looked dreamily at her
She leaned over, and kissing the wan cheek, asked, eagerly :
" How do you feel, darling ?"
CEULAH. 211
" Perfectly weak and helpless. How long have I been sick ?"
" Only a few days. You are a great deal better now." She
tenderly smoothed the silky hair that clustered in disorder round
the face. Clara seemed perplexed ; she thought for a moment,
and said, feebly :
" Have I been very ill ?"
" Well yes. You have been right sick. Had some fever,
but it has left you."
Clara mused again. Memory came back slowly, and at length
she asked :
"Did they all die?"
" Did who die ?"
" All those down-stairs." She shuddered violently.
" Oh, no ! Mrs. Hoyt and Willie are almost well. Try to
go to sleep again, Clara."
Several minutes glided by ; the eyes closed, and clasping
Beulah's fingers tightly, she asked again :
" Have I had any physician ?"
" Yes. I thought it would do no harm, to have Dr. Asbury
see you," answered Beulah, carelessly. She saw an expression
of disappointment pass sadly over the girl's countenance ; and
thinking it might be as well to satisfy her at once, she con-
tinued, as if speaking on indifferent topics :
" Dr. Hartwell came home since you were taken sick, and
called to see you two or three times."
A faint glow tinged the sallow cheek, and while a tremor crept
over her lips, she said, almost inaudibly :
" When will he come again ?"
"Before long, I dare say. Indeed, there is his step now.
Dr. Asbury is with him."
She had not time to say more, for they came in immediately,
and with a species of pity she noted the smile of pleasure which
curved Clara's mouth, as her guardian bent down and spoke to
her. While ho took her thin hand, and fixed his eyes on her
face, Dr. Asbury looked over his shoulder, and said bluntly :
212 BETJLAH.
" Hurrah for you ! All right again, as I thought YOU would
be ! Does your head ache at all this morning ? Feel like eat-
ing half-a-dozen partridges ?"
" She is not deaf," said Dr. Hartwell, rather shortly.
" I am not so sure of that ; she has been to all my questions
lately. I must see about Carter, below. Beulah, child, you look
the worse for your apprenticeship to our profession."
" So do you, sir," said she, smiling, as her eyes wandered over
his grim visage.
" You may well say that, child. I snatched about two hours'
sleep this morning, and when I woke I felt very much like
Coleridge's unlucky sailor :
" * I moved, and could not feel my limbs ;
I was so light almost,
I thought that I had died in sleep,
And was a blessed ghost.' "
He hurried away to another part of the house, and Beulah
went into her own apartment to arrange her hair, which she felt
must need attention sadly.
Looking into the glass, she could not forbear smiling at the
face which looked back at her, it was so thin and ghastly; even
the lips were colorless, and the large eyes sunken. She unbound
her hair, and had only shaken it fully out, when a knock at her
door called her from the glass. She tossed her hair all back,
and it hung like an inky veil almost to the floor, as she opened
the door and confronted her guardian.
" Here is some medicine, which must be mixed in a tmnhler of
water. I want a tablespoouful given every hour, unlt-^ Oiara is
asleep. Keep everything quiet."
" Is that all ?" said Beulah, coolly.
" That is all." He walked off, and she brushed and twisted
up her hair, wondering how long he meant to keep up that freez-
ing manner. It accorded very well with his treatment before
his departure for the North, and she sighed as she recalled the
BEULAH. 213
brief hour of cordiality which followed his return. She began
to perceive that this was the way they were to meet in future ;
she had displeased him, and he intended that she should feel it.
Tears gathered in her eyes, but she drove them scornfully back,
and exclaimed indignantly :
" He wants to rule me with a rod of iron, because I am in-
debted to him for an education and support for several years.
As I hope for a peaceful rest hereafter, I will repay him every
cent he has expended for music, drawing and clothing ! I will
economize until every picayune is returned."
The purse had not been touched, and hastily counting the
contents, to see that all the bills were there, she relocked the
drawer, and returned to the sick-room with anything but a calm
face. Clara seemed to be asleep, and picking up a book, Beulah
began to read. A sick-room is always monotonous and dreary,
and long confinement had rendered Beulah restless and uncom-
fortable. Her limbs ached so did her head, and continued loss
of sleep made her nervous to an unusual degree. She longed to
open her melodeon and play ; this would have quieted her, but
of course was not to be thought of, with four invalids in the
house, and death on almost every square in the city. She was
no longer unhappy about Clara, for there was little doubt that,
with care, she would soon be well, and thus drearily the hours
wore on. Finally, Clara evinced a disposition to talk. Her
nurse discouraged it, with exceedingly brief replies ; intimating
that she would improve her condition by going to sleep. Toward
evening, Clara seemed much refreshed by a long nap, and took
some food which had been prepared for her.
" The sickness is abating, is it not, Beulah?"
" Yes, very perceptibly ; but more from lack of fresh victims
than anything else. I hope we shall have a white frost soon."
" It has been very horrible ! I shudder when I think of it,"
said Clara.
"Then don't think of it," answered her companion.
" Oh ! how can I help it ? I did not expect to live through
214: B E U L A H .
it. I was sure I should die when that chill came on. You have
saved me, dear Beulah I" Tears glistened in her soft eyes.
" No ; God saved you."
" Through your instrumentality," replied Clara, raisiug her
friend's hand to her lips.
" Don't talk any more ; the doctor expressly enjoined quiet
for you."
" I am glad to owe my recovery to him also. How noble and
good he is how superior to everybody else 1" murmured the
sick girl.
Beulah's lips became singularly compact, but she offered no
comment. She walked up and down the room, although so worn
out that she could scarcely keep herself erect. When the doctor
came, she escaped unobserved to her room, hastily put on her
bonnet, and ran down the steps for a short walk. It was per-
fect Elysium to get out once more under the pure sky and
breathe the air, as it swept over the bay, cool, sweet and invigor-
ating. The streets were still quiet, but hearses and carts, filled
with coffins, no longer greeted her on every side, and she walked
for several squares. The sun went down, and too weary to
extend her ramble, she slowly retraced her steps. The buggy
no longer stood at the door, and after seeing Mrs. Hoyt and
trying to chat pleasantly, she crept back to Clara.
" Where have you been ?" asked the latter.
" To get a breath of fresh air, and see the sun set."
"'Dr. Hartweli asked for you. I did not know what had
become of you."
" How do you feel to-night ?" said Beulah, laying her hand
softly on Clara's forehead.
" Better, but very weak. You have no idea how feeble I am.
Beulah, I want to know whether "
'* You were told to keep quiet, so don't ask any questions, for
I will not answer one."
" You are not to sit up to-night : the doctor said I would not
require it."
BEULAH. 215
" Let the doctor go back to the North, and theorize in his
medical conventions ? I shall sleep here by your bed, on this
couch. If you feel worse, call ine. Now, good night ; and don't
open your lips again." She drew the couch close to the bed,
and shadiug the lamp, threw her weary frame down to rest ; ere
long, she slept. The pestilential storm had spent its fury.
Daily the number of deaths diminished ; gradually, the pall of
silence and desolation which had hung over the city, vanished.
The streets resumed their usual busy aspect, and the hum of life
went forward once more. At length, fugitive families ventured
home again ; and though bands of crape, grim badges of bereave-
ment, met the eye on all sides, all rejoiced that Death had
removed his court ; that his hideous carnival was over. Clara
regained her strength very slowly ; and when well enough to quit
her room, walked with the slow, uncertain step of feebleness.
On the last day of October, she entered Beulah's apartment, and
languidly approached the table, where the latter was engaged in
drawing.
" Always at work I Beulah, you give yourself no rest. Day
and night, you are constantly busy."
Apparently, this remark fell on deaf ears ; for, without reply-
ing, Beulah lifted her drawing, looked at it intently, turned it
round once or twice, and then resumed her crayon.
" What a hideous countenance ! Who is it ?" continued Clara.
" Mora."
" She is horrible ! Where did you ever see anything like it ?"
" During the height of the epidemic, I fell asleep for a few
seconds, and dreamed that Mors was sweeping down, with ex-
tended arms, to snatch you. By the clock, I had not slept quite
two minutes, yet the countenance of Mors was indelibly stamped
on my memory, and now I am transferring it to paper. You are
mistaken ; it is terrible, but not hideous 1" Beulah laid aside
her pencil, and leaning her elbows on the table, sat, with her
face in her hands, gazing upon the drawing. It represented the
head and shoulders of a winged female ; the countenance was
216 B E L T L A II .
inflexible, grim, and cadaverous. The large, lurid eyes, had an
owlish stare ; and the outspread pinions, black as night, made
the wan face yet more livid by contrast. The extended hands
were like those of a skeleton.
" What strange fancies you have. It makes the blood curdle
in my veins, to look at that awful countenance," said Clara,
shudderingly.
" I cannot draw it as I saw it in my dream ! Cannot do justice
to my ideal Mors 1" answered Beulah, in a discontented tone, as
she took up the crayon, and retouched the poppies which clus-
tered in the sable locks.
" For heaven's sake, do not attempt to render it any more
horrible ! Put it away, and finish this lovely Greek face. Oh,
how I envy you your talent for music and drawing! Nature
gifted you rarely !"
- "No 1 she merely gave me an intense love of beauty, which
constantly impels me to embody, in melody or coloring, the glori-
ous images, which the contemplation of beauty creates in my
soul. Alas ! I am not a genius. If I were, I might hope to
achieve an immortal renown. Gladly would I pay its painful and
dangerous price 1" She placed the drawing of Mors in her port-
folio, and began to touch lightly an unfinished head of Sappho.
" Ah, Clara ! how connoisseurs would carp at this portrait of
the ' Lesbian Muse.' My guardian, for one, would sneer
superbly."
11 Why, pray ? It is perfectly beautiful."
" Because, forsooth, it is no low-browed, swarthy Greek. I
have a penchant for high, broad, expansive foreheads, which are
antagonistic to all the ancient models of beauty. Low foreheads
characterize the antique ; but who can fancy ' violet-crowned,
immortal Snppho,
" With that gloriole
Of ebon hair, on calmed brows,"
other than I have drawn her 1" She held up the paper, and
smiled triumphantly.
B E TJ L A H . 217
In truth, it was a face of rare loveliness ; of oval outline, with
delicate, yet noble features, whose expression seemed the reflex
of the divine afflatus. The uplifted eyes beamed with the radi-
ance of inspiration ; the full, ripe lips, were just parted ; the
curling hair clustered, with child-like simplicity, round the classic
head ; and the exquisitely formed hands clasped a lyre.
" Beulah, don't you think the eyes are most too wild ?" sug-
gested Clara, timidly.
"What? fora poetess! Remember poesy hath madness in
it," answered Beulah, still looking earnestly at her drawing.
II Madness ? What do you mean ?"
" Just what I say. I believe poetry to be the highest and
purest phase of insanity. Those finely-strung, curiously nervous
natures, that you always find coupled with poetic endowments,
are characterized by a remarkable activity of the mental organs;
and this continued excitement, and premature development of the
brain, results in a disease which, under this aspect, the world
offers premiums for. Though I enjoy a fine poem as much as
anybody, I believe, in nine cases out of ten, it is the spasmodic
vent of a highly nervous system, overstrained, diseased. Yes,
diseased! If it does not result in the frantic madness of Lamb,
or the final imbecility of Southey, it is manifested in various other
forms, such as the morbid melancholy of Cowper, the bitter mis-
anthropy of Pope, the abnormal moodiness and misery of Byron,
the unsound and dangerous theories of Shelley, and the strange,
fragmentary nature of Coleridge."
"Oh, Beulah! what a humiliating theory! The poet placed
on an ignominious level with the nervous hypochondriac! You
are the very last person I should suppose guilty of entertaining
such a degraded estimate of human powers," interposed Clara,
energetically.
II 1 know it is customary to rave about Muses, and Parnassus,
and Helicon, and to throw the charitable mantle of 'poetic
idiosyncrasies' over all those dark spots on poetic discs. All
conceivable and inconceivable eccentricities are pardoned, as the
10
218 BEULAH.
usual concomitants of genius: but looking into the home lives of
many of the most distinguished poets, I have been painfully
impressed with the truth of my very unpoetic theory. Common
sense has arraigned before her august tribunal some of the so-
called 'geniuses' of past ages, and the critical verdict is, that
much of the famous 'fine frenzy/ was bond fide frenzy of a sad-
der nature."
" Do you think that Sappho's frenzy was established by the
Leucadian leap ?"
" You confound the poetess with a Sappho, who lived later,
and threw herself into the sea from the promontory of Leucate.
Doubtless she too had 'poetic idiosyncrasies;' but her spotless
life, and I believe natural death, afford no indication of an
unbound intellect. It is rather immaterial, however, to"
Beulah paused abruptly, as a servant entered and approached
the table, saying :
" Miss Clara, Dr. Hartwell is in the parlor, and wishes to see
you."
"To see me I" repeated Clara, ill surprise, while a rosy tinge
stole into her wan face; "to see me? No! It must be you,
Beulah."
" He said Miss Sanders," persisted the servant, and Clara left
the room.
Beulah looked after her, with an expression of some surprise;
then continued pencilling the cords of Sappho's lyre. A few
minutes elapsed, and Clara returned with flushed cheeks, and a
smile of trembling joyousness.
" Beulah, do pin my mantle on straight. I am in such a
hurry. Only think how kind Dr. Hartwell is; he has come to
take me out to ride; says I look too pale, and he thinks a ride
will benefit me. That will do, thank you."
She turned away, but Beulah rose, and called out:
"Come back here, and get my velvet mantle. It is quite
cool, and it will be a marvellous piece of management to ride
out for your health, and come home with a cold. What! no
BE TIL AH. 219
gloves either! Upon my word, your thoughts must be travel-
ling over the bridge Shinevad."
" Sure enough; I had forgotten my gloves; I will get them
as I go down. Good bye." With the mantle on her arm, she
hurried away.
Bculah laid aside her drawing materials, and prepared for her
customary evening walk. Her countenance was clouded, her
lip unsteady. Her guardian's studied coldness and avoidance
pained her, but it was not this which saddened her now. She
felt that Clara was staking the happiness of her life on the dim
hope that her attachment would be returned, She pitied the
delusion, and dreaded the awakening to a true insight into his
nature; to a consciousness of the utter uncongeniality which, she
fancied, barred all thought of such a union. As she walked on,
these reflections gave place to others entirely removed from
Clara and her, guardian; and on reaching the grove of pines,
opposite the Asylum, where she had so often wandered in days
gone by, she paced slowly up and down the " arched aisles," as
she was wont to term them. It was a genuine October after-
noon, cool and sunny. The delicious haze of Indian summer
wrapped every distant object in its soft, purple veil; the dim
vistas of the forest ended in misty depths; the very air, in its
dreamy languor, resembled the atmosphere which surrounded
" The mild-eyed, melancholy lotus-eaters "
of the far East. Through the openings, pale, golden poplars shook
down their dying leaves, and here and there along the ravine,
crimson maples gleamed against the background of dark green
pines. In every direction, bright-colored leaves, painted with
"autumnal hectic," strewed the bier of the declining year.
Beulah sat down on a tuft of moss, and gathered clusters of
golden-rod and purple and white asters. She loved these wild
wood-flowers much more than gaudy exotics or rare hot-house
plants. They linked her with the days of her childhood, and
now each graceful spray of golden-rod seemed a wand of memory,
220 BEULAH.
calling up bygone joys, griefs a:.d fancies. Ah, what a hallowing
glory invests our past, beckoning us back to the haunts of the olden
time ! The paths our childish feet trod seem all angel-guarded
and thornless ; the songs we sang then sweep the harp of memory,
making magical melody ; the words carelessly spoken, now
breathe a solemn, mysterious import ; and faces that early went
down to the tomb, smile on us still with unchanged tenderness.
Aye, the past, the long past is all fairy-land. Where our little
feet were bruised, we now see only springing flowers ; where
childish lips drank from some Marah, verdure and garlands woo
us back. Over the rustling leaves a tiny form glided to Beulah's
side ; a pure infantine face with golden curls looked up at her,
and a lisping voice of unearthly sweetness whispered in the
autumn air. Here she had often brought Lilly, and filled her
baby fingers with asters and golden-rod ; and gathered bright
scarlet leaves to please her childish fancy. Bitter waves had
broken over her head since then ; shadows had gathered about
her heart. Oh, how far off were the early years 1 How changed
she was ; how different life and the world seemed to her now !
The flowery meadows were behind her, with the vestibule of girl-
hood, and now she was a woman, with no ties to link her with
any human being ; alone, and dependent only on herself. Verily,
she might have exclaimed in the mournful words of Lamb :
" All, all are gone, the old familiar faces."
She sat looking at the wild-flowers in her hand ; a sad, dreamy
light filled the clear grey eyes, and now and then her brow was
ploughed by some troubled thought. The countenance told of
a mind perplexed and questioning. The " cloud no bigger than
a man's hand/' had crept up from the horizon of faith, and now
darkened her sky ; but she would not see the gathering gloom ;
shut her eyes resolutely to the coming storm. As the cool
October wind stirred the leaves at her feet, and the scarlet and
gold cloud-flakes faded in the west, she rose and walked slowly
homeward. She was too deeply pondering her speculative doubts
BEULAH. 221
to notice Dr. Hartwell's buggy whirling along the street ; did
not see his head extended, and his cold, searching glance ; and
of course he believed the blindness intentional, and credited it to
pique or anger. On reaching home, she endeavored by singing
a favorite hymn to divert the current of her thoughts, but the
shadows were growing tenacious, and would not be banished so
easily. " If a man die shall he live again ?" seemed echoing on
the autumn wind. She took up her Bible and read several chap-
ters, which she fancied would uncloud her mind ; but in vain.
Kestlessly she began to pace the floor ; the lamplight gleamed
on a pale, troubled face. After a time the door opened, and
Clara came in. She took a seat without speaking, for she had
learned to read Beulah's countenance, and saw at a glance that
she was abstracted and in no mood for conversation. When the
tea-bell rang, Beulah stopped suddenly in the middle of the
room.
" What is the matter ?" asked Clara.
" I feel as if I needed a cup of coffee, that is all. Will you
join me ?"
" No ; and if you take it you will not be able to close your
eyes."
" Did you have a pleasant ride ?" said Beulah, laying her hand
on her companion's shoulder, and looking gravely down into the
sweet face, which wore an expression she had never seen there
before.
" Oh, I shall never forget it ! never !" murmured Clara.
" I am glad you enjoyed it ; very glad. I wish the color would
come back to your cheeks. Riding is better for you now than
walking." She stooped down and pressed her lips to the wan
cheek as she spoke.
" Did you walk this evening, after I left you ?"
" Yes."
" What makes you look so grave ?"
" A great many causes you among the number."
" What have I done ?"
BEULAH.
" You are not so strong as I should like to see you. You have
a sort of spiritual look that I don't at all fancy."
" I dare say I shall soon be well again." This was said with
an effort, and a sigh quickly followed.
Beulah rang the bell for a cup of coffee, and taking down a
book, drew her chair near the lamp.
" What ! studying already ?" cried Clara, impatiently.
" And why not ? Life is short at best, and rarely allows time
to master all departments of knowledge. Why should I not
seize every spare moment ?"
" Oh, Beulah ! though you are so much younger, you awe me.
I told your guardian to-day that you were studying yourself into
a mere shadow. He smiled, and said you were too willful to be
advised. You talk to me about not looking well ! You never
have had any color, and lately you have grown very thin and
hollow-eyed. I asked the doctor if he did not think you were
looking ill, and he said that you had changed very much since
the summer. Beulah, for my sake, please don't pore over your
books so incessantly." She took Beulah's hand, gently, in both
hers.
" Want of color is as constitutional with me as the shape of
my nose. I have always been pale, and study has no connection
with it. Make yourself perfectly easy on my account."
" You are very willful, as your guardian says," cried Clara,
impatiently.
"Yes, that is like my sallow complexion constitutional,"
answered Beulah, laughing, and opening a volume of Carlyle as
she spoke.
" Oh, Beulah, I don't know what will become of you !" Tears
sprang into Clara's eyes.
" Do not be at all uneasy, my dear, dove-eyed Clara. I can
take care of myself."
BETTLAH. 223
CHAPTER XIX.
IT was the middle of November, and absentees, who had spent
their summer at the North, were all at home again. Among
these were Mrs. Asbury and her two daughters ; and only a few
days after their return, they called to see Beulah. She found
them polished, cultivated, and agreeable ; and when, at parting,
the mother kindly pressed her hand, and cordially invited her to
visit them often and sociably, she felt irresistibly drawn toward
her, and promised to do so. Ere loog, there came a friendly
note, requesting her to spend the evening with them ; and thus,
before she had known them many weeks, Beulah found herself
established on the familiar footing of an old friend. Universally
esteemed and respected, Dr. Asbury's society was sought by the
most refined circle of the city, and his house was a favorite
resort for the intellectual men and women of the community.
Occupying an enviable position in his profession, he still found
leisure to devote much of his attention to strictly literary topics,
and the honest frankness and cordiality of his manners, blended
with the instructive tone of his conversation, rendered him a
general favorite. Mrs. Asbury merited the elevated position
which she so ably filled, as the wife of such a man. While due
attention was given to the education and rearing of her daugh-
ters, she admirably discharged the claims of society, and by a
consistent adherence to the principles of the religion she pro-
fessed, checked by every means within her power the frivolous
excesses and dangerous extremes which prevailed throughout
the fashionable circles m which she moved. Zealously, yet
unostentatiously, she exerted herself in behalf of the various
charitable institutions, organized to ameliorate the sufferings of
the poor in their midst ; and while, as a Christian, she conformed
to the outward observances of her church, she faithfully iucul-
224: B E TJ L A H .
cated and practised at home the pure precepts of a religion,
whose effects should be the proper regulation of the heart, and
charity toward the world. Her parlors were not the favorite
rendezvous where gossips met to retail slander. Refined, digni-
fied, gentle, and hospitable, she was a woman too rarely, alas !
met with, in so-called fashionable circles. Her husband's repu-
tation secured them the acquaintance of all distinguished
strangers, and made their house a great centre of attraction.
Beulah fully enjoyed and appreciated the friendship thus ten-
dered her, and soon looked upon Dr. Asbury and his noble
wife as counsellors, to whom in any emergency she could unhesi-
tatingly apply. They based their position in society on their
own worth ; not the extrinsic appendages of wealth and fashion,
and readily acknowledged the claims of all who (however hum-
ble their abode or avocation) proved themselves worthy of
respect and esteem. In their intercourse with the young teacher,
there was an utter absence of that contemptible supercilious
condescension which always characterizes an ignorant and par-
venu aristocracy. They treated her as an equal in intrinsic
worth, and prized her as a friend. Helen Asbury was older than
Beulah, and Georgia somewhat younger. They were sweet-
tempered, gay girls, lacking their parent's intellectual traits, but
sufficiently well-informed and cultivated to constitute them agree-
able companions. Of their father's extensive library, they ex-
pressed themselves rather afraid, and frequently bantered Beulah
about the grave books she often selected from it. Beulah found
her school duties far less irksome than she had expected, for she
loved children, and soon became interested in the individual
members of her classes. From eight o'clock until three she was
closely occupied ; then the labors of the day were over, and she
spent her evenings much as she had been wont, ere the opening
of the session. Thus, November glided quickly away, and the
first of December greeted her, ere she dreamed of its approach.
The Grahams had not returned, though daily expected ; and
notwithstanding two months had elapsed without Eugene's writ-
BEULAH. 225
ing, she looked forward with intense pleasure to his expected
arrival. There was one source of constant pain for her in Dr.
Hartwell's continued and complete estrangement. Except a cold,
formal bow, in passing, there was no intercourse whatever ; and
she sorrowed bitterly over this seeming indifference in one to
whom she owed so much and was so warmly attached. Remotely
connected with this cause of disquiet, was the painful change in
Clara. Like a lily suddenly transplanted to some arid spot, she
had seemed to droop, since the week of her ride. Gentle, but
hopeless and depressed, she went, day after day, to her duties at
Madame St. Cymon's school, and returned at night wearied,
silent and wan. Her step grew more feeble, her face thinner
and paler. Often Beulah gave up her music and books, and
devoted the evenings to entertaining and interesting her ; but
there was a constraint and reserve about her which could not be
removed.
One evening, on returning from a walk with Helen Asbury,
Beulah ran into her friend's room with a cluster of flowers.
Clara sat by the fire, with a piece of needle-work in her hand ;
she looked listless and sad, Beulah threw the bright golden and
crimson chrysanthemums in her lap, and stooping down, kissed
her warmly, saying :
" How is your troublesome head ? - Here is a flowery cure for
you."
"My head does not ache quite so badly. Where did you
find these beautiful chrysanthemums ?" answered Clara, lan-
guidly.
I stopped to get a piece of music from Georgia, and Helen cut
them for me. Oh, what blessed things flowers are I They have
been well styled, ' God's under-tones of encouragement to the
children of earth.' "
She was standing on the hearth, warming her fingers. Clara
looked up at the dark, clear eyes and delicate fixed lips before
her, and sighed involuntarily. Beulah knelt on the carpet, and
throwing one arm around her companion, said, earnestly :
10*
BEULAH.
" My dear Clara, what saddens you to-night ? Can't you tell
me?"
A hasty knock at the door gave no time for an answer. A
servant looked in.
" Is Miss Beulah Benton here ? There is a gentleman in the
parlor to see her ; here is the card."
Beulah still knelt on the floor, and held out her hand
indifferently. The card was given, and she sprang up with a
cry of joy.
" Oh, it is Eugene I 9 '
At the door of the parlor she paused, and pressed her hand
tightly to her bounding heart. A tall form stood before the
grate, and a glance discovered to her a dark moustache and
heavy beard ; still it must be Eugene, and extending her arms
unconsciously, she exclaimed :
" Eugene I Eugene ! have you come at last ?"
He started, looked up, and hastened toward her. Her arms
suddenly dropped to her side, and only their hands met in a
firm, tight clasp. For a moment, they gazed at each other in
silence, each noting the changes which time had wrought. Then
he said, slowly :
" I should not have known yon, Beulah. You have altered
surprisingly." His eyes wandered wonderingly over her features.
She was pale and breathless ; her lips trembled violently, and
there was a strange gleam in her large, eager eyes. She did
not reply, but stood looking up intently into his handsome face.
Then she shivered; the long, black lashes drooped ; her white
fingers relaxed their clasp of his, and she sat down on the sofa
near. Ah ! her womanly intuitions, infallible as Ithuriel's spear,
told her that he was no longer the Eugene she had loved so
devotedly. An iron hand seemed to clutch her heart, and again
a shudder crept over her, as he seated himself beside her,
saying :
" I am very much pained to 'find you here. I am just from
Dr. HartwelPs, where I expected to see you."
BEITLAH. 227
He paused, for something about her face rather disconcerted
him, and he took her hand again in his.
11 How could you expect to find me there, after reading my
last letter ?"
"I still hoped that your good sense would prevent your taking
such an extraordinary step."
She smiled, icily, and answered :
"Is it so extraordinary, then, that I should desire to maintain
my self-respect ?"
" It would not have been compromised by remaining where
you were."
" I should scorn myself, were I willing to live idly on the
bounty of one upon whom I have no claim."
" You are morbidly fastidious, Beulah."
Her eyes flashed, and snatching her hand from his, she asked,
with curling lips : " Eugene, if I prefer to teach, for a support,
why should you object ?"
" Simply because you are unnecessarily lowering yourself in
the estimation of the community. You will find that the circle,
which a residence under Dr. HartwelPs roof gave you the entree
of, will look down with contempt upon a subordinate teacher in
a public school "
" Then, thank Heaven, I am forever shut out from that
circle ! Is my merit to be gauged by the cost of my clothes,
or the number of fashionable parties I attend, think you ?"
" Assuredly, Beulah, the things you value so lightly are the
standards of worth and gentility in the community you live in,
as you will unfortunately find."
She looked at him steadily, with grief, and scorn, and wonder
in her deep, searching eyes, as she exclaimed :
" Oh, Eugene ! what has changed you so, since the bygone
years, when, in the Asylum, we talked of the future ? of labor-
ing, conquering, and earning homes for ourselves 1 Oh, has the
foul atmosphere of foreign lands extinguished all your self-
respect ? Do you come back sordid aiiJ sycophantic, and the
228 BETJLAH.
slave of opinions you would once have utterly detested ? Have
you narrowed your soul, and bowed down before the miserable
standard which every genuine, manly spirit must loathe ? Oh !
has it come to this ? Has it come to this ?" Her voice was
broken, and bitter, scalding tears of shame and grief gushed
over her cheeks.
" This fierce recrimination and unmerited tirade is not exactly
the welcome I was prepared to expect," returned Eugene,
haughtily; and rising, he took his hat from the table. She rose
also, but made no effort to detain him, and leaned her head
against the mantelpiece. He watched her a moment, then
approached, and put his hand on her shoulder :
" Beulah, as a man, I see the world and its relations in a far
different light from that in which I viewed it while a boy."
"It is utterly superfluous to tell me so !" replied Beulah, bit-
terly.
" I grapple with realities now, and am forced to admit the
expediency of prudent policy. You refuse to see things in their
actual existence, and prefer toying with romantic dreams.
Beulah, I have awakened from these since we parted."
She put up her hand deprecatingly, and answered :
" Then let me dream on ! let me dream on !"
" Beulah, I have been sadly mistaken in my estimate of your
character. I could not have believed there was so much fierce
obstinacy, so much stubborn pride, in your nature."
She instantly lifted her head, and their eyes met. Other days
came back to both ; early confidence, mutual love and depend-
ence. For a moment his nobler impulses prevailed, and with an
unsteady lip, he passed his arm quickly around her. But she
drew coldly back, and said :
" It seems we are mutually disappointed in each other. I
regret that the discharge of my duty should so far conflict with
your opinions and standard of propriety, as to alienate us so
completely as it seems likely to do. All my life I have looked to
you for guidance and counsel ; but to-night you have shaken my
BEULAH. 229
trust, and henceforth I must depend upon my own heart to sup-
port me in my work. Oh, Eugene ! friend of my childhood !
beware, lest you sink yourself in your own estimation ! Oh, for
days, and months, and years, I have pictured the hour of your
return, little dreaming that it would prove one of the saddest of
my life ! I have always looked up to you. Oh, Eugene !
Eugene 1 you are not what you were ! Do not ! oh, do not
make me pity you ! That would kill me !" She covered her
face with her hands, and shuddered convulsively.
" I am not so changed as you think me," returned Eugene,
proudly.
" Then, in early years, I was miserably deceived in your cha-
racter. For the sake of wealth, and what the world calls ' posi-
tion,' you have sold yourself. In lieu of his gold and influence,
Mr. Graham has your will, your conscience. Ah, Eugene ! how
can you bear to be a mere tool in his hands ?"
" Beulah, your language, your insinuations are unpardonable -I
By Heaven, no one but yourself might utter them, and not eveu
you can do so with impunity ! If you choose to suffer your
foolish pride and childish whims to debar you from the enviable
position in society, which Dr. Hartwell would gladly confer on
you, why you have only yourself to censure. But my situation
in Mr. Graham's family, has long been established. He has ever
regarded me as his son, treated me as such, and as such, I feel
bound to be guided by him in my choice of a profession. Beulah,
I have loved you well, but such another exhibition of scorn and
bitterness will indeed alienate us. Since you have set aside my
views and counsel, in the matter of teaching, I shall not again
refer to it, I promise you. I have no longer the wish to control
your actions, even had I the power. But, remember, since the
hour you stood beside your father's grave, leaning on me, I have
been constantly your friend. My expostulations were for what
I considered your good. Beulah, I am still, to you, the Eugene
of other days. It will be your own fault, if the sanctity of our
friendship is not maintained."
230 BEULAH.
" It shall not bo my fault, Eugene." She hastily held out her
hand. He clasped it in his, and, as if dismissing the topics which
had proved so stormy, drew her to a seat, and said, composedly:
" Come, tell me what you have been doing with yourself these
long five years, which have changed you so. I have heard
already of your heroism in nursing the sick, during the late
awful season of pestilence and death."
For an hour they talked on indifferent themes, each feeling
that the other was veiling the true impulses of the heart, and
finally Eugene rose to go.
* " How is Cornelia's health now ?" asked Beulah, as they stood
up before the fire."
" About the same. She never complains, but does not look
like herself. Apropos I she intrusted a note to me, for you,
which I had quite forgotten. Here it is. Miss Dupres is with
her for the winter; at least a part of it. Cornelia will come and
see you in a day or two, she requested me to say ; and I do hope,
Beulah, that you will visit her often ; she has taken a great fancy
to you."
" How long since ?" answered Beulah, with an incredulous
smile.
" Since she met you at a concert, I believe. By the way, we
are very musical at our house, and promise ourselves some delight-
ful evenings this winter. You must hear Antoinette Dupres
sing ; she is equal to the best prima-donna of Italy. Do you
practise much ?"
V Yes."
" Well, I must go. When shall I see you again ?"
" Whenever you feel disposed to come ; and I hope that will
be often. Eugene, you were a poor correspondent ; see that you
prove a better visitor."
" Yes, I will. I have a thousand things to say, but scarcely
know where to commence. You are always at home in the even-
ings, I suppose ?"
" Yes, except occasionally when I am with the Asburys."
BEULAH. 231
" Do you see much 3f them ?"
" Yes, a good deal."
" I am glad to hear it; they move in the very first circle.
Now, Beulah, don't be offended if I ask what is the matter with
Dr. Hart well ? How did you displease him ?"
"Just as I displeased you; by deciding to teach. Eugene, it
pains me very much that he should treat me as he does, but it
is utterly out of my power to rectify the evil."
"lie told me that he knew nothing of your movements or
plans. I wish, for your sake, you could be reconciled."
" We will be some day. I must wait patiently," said she,
with a sigh.
" Beulah, I don't like that troubled look about your mouth.
What is the matter ? Can I in any way remove it ? Is it con-
nected with me, even remotely? My dear Beulah, do not shrink
from me."
" Nothing is the matter that you can rectify," saki she,-
gravely.
" Something is the matter, then, which I may not know ?"
"Yes."
" And you will not trust me ?"
" It is not a question of trust, Eugene."
" You think I cannot help you ?"
" You cannot help me, I am sure."
"Well, I will see you again to-morrow; till then good bye."
They shook hands, and she went back to her own room. Cor-
nelia's note contained an invitation to spend the next evening
with them ; she would call as soon as possible. She put it aside,
and throwing her arms on the mantelpiece, bowed her head upon
them. This, then, was the hour which, for five years, she had
anticipated as an occasion of unmixed delight. She was not
weeping; no, the eyes were dry, and the lips firmly fixed. She
was thinking of the handsome face which a little while before
was beside her; thinking, with keen agony, of footprints there,
which she had never dreamed of seeing; they were very slight,
232 BEULAH.
yet unmistakable the fell signet of dissipation. Above all, she
read it iu the eyes, which once looked so fearlessly into hers.
She knew he did not imagine, for an instant, that she suspected
it; and of all the bitter cups which eighteen years had proffered,
this was by far the blackest. It was like a hideous dream, and
she groaned, and passed her hand over her brow, as if to sweep
it all away. Poor Beulah ! the idol of her girlhood fell from its
pedestal, and lay in crumbling ruins at her feet. In this hour
of reunion, she saw clearly into her own heart; she did not love
him, save as a friend, as a brother. She was forced to perceive
her own superiority; could she love a man whom she did not
revere ? Verily, she felt now that she did not love Eugene.
There was a feeling of contempt for his weakness, yet she could
not bear to see him other than she had hoped. How utterly he
had disappointed her ? Could it be possible that he had fallen
so low as to dissipate habitually? This she would not believe;
he was still too noble for such a disgraceful course. She felt a
soft touch on her shoulder, and raised her sad, tearless face.
Clara, with her ethereal, spiritual countenance, stood on the
hearth: "Do I disturb you?" said she, timidly.
"No; I am glad you came. I was listening to cold, bitter,
bitter thoughts. Sit down, Clara; you look fatigued."
" Oh, Beulah ! I am weary in body and spirit ; I have no
energy; my very existence is a burden to me."
" Clara, it is weak to talk so. Eouse yourself, and fulfill the
destiny for which you were created."
" I have no destiny, but that of loneliness and misery."
" Our situations are similar, yet I never repine as you do."
" You have not the same cause. You are self-reliant ; need
no society to conduce to your happiness; your heart is bound up
in your books."
" Where yours had better have been," answered Beulah. She
walked across the floor several times, then said impressively, as
she threw her arm round Clara's waist:
" Crush it; crush it; if yon crush your heart in the effort."
BEULAH. 233
A moan es caped Clara's lips, and she hid her face against her
friend's shoulder.
" I have known it since the night of your grandfather's death.
If you want to be happy and useful, crush it out of your heart."
" I have tried, and cannot."
" Oh ! but you can. I tell you there is nothing a woman
cannot do, provided she puts on the armor of duty, and
unsheathes the sword of a strong, unbending will. Of course,
you can do it, if you will."
" Wait till you feel as I do, Beulah, and it will not seem so
light a task."
" That will never happen. If I live till the next geological
period, I never shall love anybody as insanely as you love.
Why, Clara, don't you see that you are wrecking your happi-
ness ? What strange infatuation has seized you ?"
" I know now that it is perfectly hopeless," said Clara calmly.
" You might have known it from the first."
11 No; it is but recently that the barrier has risen."
" What barrier ?" asked Beulah, curiously.
" For Heaven's sake, Beulah, do not mock me! You know
too well what separates us."
"Yes; utter uucongeniality."
Clara raised her head, looked into the honest face before her,
and answered:
" If that were all, I could yet hope to merit his love; but you
know that is not so. You must know that he has no love to
bestow."
Beulah's face seemed instantly steeled. A greyish hue crept
over it; and drawing her slender form to its full height, she
replied, with haughty coldness:
" What do you mean ? I can only conjecture."
"Beulah, you know he loves you!" cried Clara, with a
strangely quiet smile.
" Clara Sanders, never say that again as Jong as you live ; for
there is not the shadow of truth in it."
234 B E U L A H .
" Ah, I would not believe it till it was forced upon me. The
heart bars itself a long time to painful truths ! I have looked
at you, and wondered whether you could be ignorant of what I
saw so clearly. I believe you are honest in what you say. I
know that you are ; but it is nevertheless true. I saw it the
evening I went to ride. He loves you, whether you see it or not.
And, moreover, the world has begun to join your names. I have
heard, more than once, that he educated you with the intention
of marrying you ; and recently it has been rumored that the
marriage would take place very soon. Do not be hurt with me,
Beulah I I think it is right that you should know all this."
" It is utterly false from beginning to end ! He never had
such a thought I never ! never 1" cried Beulah, striking her
clenched hand heavily on the table.
" Why, then, was he so anxious to prevent your teaching T'
11 Because he is generous and kind, and fancied it was a life of
"Hardship, which I could escape by accepting his offer to adopt
me. Your supposition is perfectly ridiculous. He is double my
age. A stern, taciturn man ; what could possibly attract him to
one whom he looks upon as a mere child ? And moreover, he
is a worshipper of beauty 1 Now, it is an indisputable fact that
I am anything but a beauty ! Oh, the idea is absurd beyond all
degree. Never mention it to me again. I tell you solemnly,
Clara, your jealous fancy has run away with your common
sense."
A sad, incredulous smile flitted over Clara's face, but she made
no reply.
" Clara, rouse yourself from this weak dream. Oh, where is
your pride your womanly pride your self-respect ? Is your
life to be aimless and dreary because of an unrequited attach-
ment ? Shake it off ! Rise above it ! Destroy it ! Oh, it
makes the blood tingle in my veins to think of your wasting your
energies and hopes in love for one who is so utterly indifferent to
you. Much as I love you, Clara, had I the power to make you
his wife to-morrow, I would rather see you borne to your grave.
BEULAH. 235
You know nothing of his fitful, moody nature ; his tyrannical
will. You could not be happy with him ; you would see how
utterly unsuited you are."
" Are you acquainted with the circumstances of his early life,
and ill-fated marriage ?" asked Clara, in a low, passionless
tone.
" No ; he never alluded to his marriage in any way. Long
as I lived in his house there was no mention of his wife's name,
and I should never have known of his marriage but from his
sister."
" It was a most unhappy marriage," said Clara, musingly.
" So I conjectured from his studious avoidance of all allusion
to it."
" His wife was very, very beautiful ; I saw her once when I
was a child," continued Clara.
" Of course she must have been, for he could not love one who
was nut."
" She lived but a few months ; yet even in that short time
they had become utterly estranged, and she died of a broken
heart. There is some mystery connected with it ; they were
separated."
11 Separated 1" cried Beulah, in amazement.
11 Yes, separated ; she died in New Orleans, I believe."
" And yet you profess to love him 1 A man who broke his
wife's heart," said Beulah, with a touch of scorn.
" No ; you do his noble nature injustice. He is incapable of
such a course. Even a censorious world acquitted him of un-
kindness."
" And heaped contumely on the unhappy victim, eh ?" rejoined
Beulah.
" Her conduct was not irreproachable, it has been whispered."
" Aye, whispered by slanderous tongues ! Not openly avowed,
to admit of denial and refutation 1 I wonder the curse of Go-
morrah does not descend on this gossiping, libellous community."
" No one seems to know anything definite about the affair;
236 BEULAH.
though I have often heard it commented upon and wondered
over."
" Clara, let it be buried henceforth. Neither you nor I have
any right to discuss and censure what neither of us know any-
thing about. Dr. Hartwell has been my best and truest friend.
I love and honor him ; his faults are his own, and only his Maker
has the right to balance his actions. Once for all, let the sub-
ject drop." Beulah compressed her lips with an expression
which her companion very well understood. Soon after the lat-
ter withdrew, and leaning her arms on the table near her, Beulah
sank into a reverie which was far from pleasant. Dismissing the
unsatisfactory theme of her guardian's idiosyncrasies, her
thoughts immediately reverted to Eugene, and the revolution
which five years had effected in his character.
In the afternoon of the following day, she was engaged with
her drawing, when a succession of quick raps at her door forced
an impatient "come in" from her lips. The door opened, and
she rose involuntarily as the queenly form of Cornelia Graham
stood before her. With a slow, stately tread, she approached,
and, extending her hand, said unconcernedly :
" I have waived ceremony, you see, and come up to your
room."
" How are you ?" said Beulah, as they shook hands, and seated
themselves.
" Just as usual. How did you contrive to escape the plague?"
" By resolving not to have it, I believe."
" You have a wan, sickly look, I think."
"So have you, I am sure. I hoped that you would come
home strong and well." Beulah noted, with a feeling of compas-
sion, the thin, hollow cheeks, and sunken, yet burning eyes before
her. Cornelia bit her lip, and asked, haughtily :
" Who told you that I was not well ?"
" Your countenance would tell me, if I had never heard it from
others," replied Beulah, with an instantaneous recollection of her
guardian's warning.
B E U L A H . 237
" Did you receive my note yesterday ?"
" Yes. I am obliged by your invitation, but cannot accept it."
" So I supposed, and, therefore, came to make sure of you.
You are too proud to come, until all the family call upon you,
eh?"
" No : only people who consider themselves inferior, are on
the watch for slights, and scrupulously exact the minutest
requirements of etiquette. On the plane of equality, these bar-
riers melt away."
As Beulah spoke, she looked steadily into the searching, black
eyes, which seemed striving to read her soul. An expression of
pleasure lighted the sallow face, and the haughty lines about the
beautiful mouth melted into a half smile.
" Then you have not forgiven my rudeness during early school-
days r
11 1 had nothing to forgive. I had forgotten the affair, until
you spoke.
" Then, why will you not come ?"
" For reasons which would not be removed by a recapitula-
tiou."
"And you positively will not come ?"
" Not this evening. Another time, I certainly will come, with
pleasure."
" Say to-morrow, then." .
" To-morrow, I shall be engaged."
" Where ? Excuse my pertinacity."
" At Dr. Asbury's : I have promised to practise some duets
with Helen."
" Do you play well, Beulah ? Are you a good musician ?"
" Yes."
Cornelia mused a moment, and then said, slowly, as if watch-
ing the effect of her question :
" You have seen Eugene, of course ?"
"Yes."
" He has changed very much in his appearance, has he not ?"
238 BEULAH.
" More than I was prepared to expect."
" He is to be a merchant, like my father."
" So he wrote me."
" You endeavored to dissuade him from complying with my
father's wishes, did you not ?"
" Yes, most earnestly," answered Beulah, gravely.
" Beulah Benton, I like you 1 You are honest indeed. At last
I find one who is." With a sudden impulse, she laid her white,
jewelled hand on Beulah's.
" Is honesty, or rather candor, so very rare, Cornelia ?"
" Come out from your ' loop-hole of retreat,' into the world,
and you can easily answer your own question."
"You seem to have looked on human nature through misan-
thropic lenses."
"Yes, I bought a pair of spectacles, for which I paid a most
exorbitant price ; but they were labelled ' experience !' " She
smiled frigidly.
" You do not seem to have enjoyed your tour particularly."
" Yes I did ; but one is glad to rest sometimes. I may yet
prove a second Bayard Taylor, notwithstanding. I should like
you for a companion. You would not sicken me with stereo-
typed nonsense."
Her delicate fingers folded themselves about Beulah's, who
could not bring herself to withdraw, her hand.
" And sure enough, you would not be adopted ? Do you
mean to adhere to your determination, and maintain yourself by
teaching ?"
" I do."
" And I admire you for it 1 Beulah, you must get over yom
dislike to me."
" I do not dislike you, Cornelia. 7 '
" Thank you for your negative preference," returned Cornelia,
rather amused at her companion's straightforward manner. Then,
with a sudden contraction of her brow, she added :
" I am not so bearish as they give me credit for."
BEULAH. 239
"I never heard you called so."
"Ah ? that is because you do not enter the enchanted circle
of ' our clique.' During morning calls, I am flattered, cajoled,
and fawned upon. Their carriages are not out of hearing, before
my friends and admirers, like hungry harpies, pounce upon my
character, manners and appearance, with most laudable zest and
activity. Wait till you have been initiated into my coterie of
fashionable friends ! Why, the battle of Marengo was a farce, in
comparison with the havoc they can effect in the space of a morn-
ing, among the characters of their select visiting list ! What a pre-
cious age of backbiting we city belles live in." She spoke with
an air of intolerable scorn.
"As a prominent member of this circle, why do you not
attempt to rectify this spreading evil ? You might effect lasting
good."
" I am no Hercules, to turn the Peneus of reform through the
Augean realms of society," answered Cornelia, with an impatient
gesture ; and rising, she drew on her glove. Beulah looked up
at her, and pitied the joyless, cynical nature, which gave an
almost repulsively austere expression to the regular, faultless
features.
" Beulah, will you come on Saturday morning, and spend an
hour or so with me ?"
" No, I have a music lesson to give ; but if you will be at
home in the afternoon, I will come with pleasure."
" I shall expect you, then. You were drawing when I came
in; are you fond of it?" As she spoke she took up apiece
which was nearly completed.
" Yes, but you will find my sketches very crude."
" Who taught you to draw ?"
" I have had several teachers. All rather indifferent, how
ever."
" Where did you see a St. Cecilia ? There is too much
breadth of brow here," continued Cornelia, with a curious glance
at the young teacher.
24:0 B E U L A H .
" Yes; I deviated from the original intentionally. I copied it
from a collection of heads which Georgia Asbury brought from
the North."
" I have a number of choice paintings, which I selected in
Europe. Any that you may fancy are at your service for
models."
" Thank you. I shall be glad to avail myself of the
privilege."
" Good bye. You will come Saturday ?"
" Yes; if nothing occurs to prevent, I will come in the after-
noon." Beulah pressed her offered hand, and saw her descend
the steps with a feeling of pity, which she could not exactly
analyze. Passing by the window, she glanced down, and paused
to look at an elegant carriage standing before the door. The
day was cold, but the top was thrown back, and on one of the
cushions sat, or rather reclined, a richly dressed, and very
beautiful girl. As Beulah leaned out to examine the lovely
stranger more closely, Cornelia appeared. The driver opened
the low door, and as Cornelia stepped in, the young lady, who
was Miss Dupres, of course, ejaculated rather peevishly :
" You stayed an age."
" Drive down the Bay-road, Wilson," was Cornelia's reply, and
as she folded her rich cloak about her, the carriage was whirled
away.
Beulah went back to the fire, warmed her fingers, and
resumed her drawing ; thinking that she would not willingly
change places with the petted child of wealth and luxury.
CHAPTER XX.
IT was a dreary Saturday afternoon, but Beulah wrapped a
warm shawl about her, and set out to pay the promised visit.
The air was damp and raw, and leaden, marbled clouds hung low
BETJLAH. 241
in the sky. Mr. Graham's house was situated in the fashionable
part of the city, near Mr. Gsaysou's residence, and as Beulah
passed the crouching lions, she quickened her steps, to escape
the painful reminiscences which they recalled. In answer to her
ring, the servant ushered her into the parlors furnished with
almost oriental magnificence, and was retiring, when she gave
her name.
" You are Miss Benton, then. I have orders to show you up
at once to Miss Cornelia's room. ^She has seen no visitors
to-day. This way, miss, if you please."
He led the way, up an easy, spiral flight of steps, to the door
of a room, which he threw open. Cornelia was sitting in a
large cushioned chair by the fire, with a papier-mache writing-
desk beside her, covered with letters. There was a bright fire
in the grate, and the ruddy haze, together with the reflection
from the crimson damask curtains, gave a dim, luxurious aspect
to the chamber, which in every respect betokened the fastidious
taste of a petted invalid. Clad in a dark silk robe-de-chambre,
with her cheek pressed against the blue velvet lining of the
chair, Cornelia's face wore a sickly, sallow hue, which was ren-
dered more palpable by her black, glittering eyes and jetty hair.
She eagerly held out her hand, and a smile of sincere pleasure
parted the lips, which a paroxysm of pain seemed to have just
compressed.
" It is such a gloomy day, I feared you would not come.
Take off your bonnet and sha\&L"
" It is not so gloomy out as you imagine," said Beulah.
" What ? not, with dull clouds, and a stiff, raw, northeaster ?
I looked out of the window a while since, and the bay looked just
as I have seen the North Seo,, grey and cold. Why don't you
take off your bonnet ?"
" Because I can only sit with you a short time," answered
Beulah, resisting the attempt made to take her shawl.
" Why, can't you spend the evening ?" said Cornelia,
frowning.
11
242 . BETJLAH.
" I promised not to remain more than an hoar."
" Promised whom ?"
" Clara Sanders. She is sick; unable to leave her room, and
is lonely when I am away."
" My case is analogous ; so I will put myself on the charity
list for once. I have not been down-stairs for two days."
" But you have everything to interest you even here," re-
turned Beulah, glancing around at the numerous paintings and
engravings which were suspended on all sides, while ivory,
marble, and bronze statuettes, were scattered in profusion about
the room. Cornelia followed her glance, and asked, with a
joyless smile :
" Do you suppose those bits of stone and canvas satisfy
me?"
" Certainly. 'A thing of beauty should be a joy forever.'
With all these, and your library, surely you are never lonely."
" Pshaw I they tire me immensely. Sometimes, the cramped
positions, and unwinking eyes of that ' holy family ' there over
the chimneypiece, make me perfectly nervous."
" You must be morbidly sensitive at such times."
"Why? do you never feel restless and dissatisfied, without
any adequate reason ?"
"No, never."
" And yet, you have few sources of pleasure," said Cornelia,
in a musing tone, as her eyes wandered over her visitor's plain
attire.
" No ! my sources of enjoyment are as varied and extended
as the universe."
" I should like you to map them. Shut up all day with a
parcel of rude stupid children, and released, only to be caged
again in a small room in a second-rate boarding-house. Really,
I should fancy they were limited, indeed."
" No, I enjoy my brisk walk to school, in the morning ; the
children are neither so dull, nor so bearish as you seem to
imagine. I am attached to many of them, and do not feel the
B E U L A H . 243
day to be very long. At three, I hurry home, get my dinner,
practise, and draw, or sew, till the shadows begin to dim my
eyes, then I walk until the lamps are lighted, find numberless
things to interest m, even in a winter's walk, and go back to
my room, refreshed and eager to get to my books. Once seated
with them, what portion of the earth is there, that I may not
visit, from the crystal Arctic temples of Odin and Thor, to
the groves of Abyssinia ? In this age of travel, and cheap
books, I can sit in my room in the third story, and by my lamp-
light, see all, and immeasurably more, than you, who have been
travelling for eighteen months. Wherever I go, I find sources
of enjoyment ; even the pictures in bookstores give me plea-
sure, and contribute food for thought ; and when, as now, I am
surrounded by all that wealth can collect, I admire, and enjoy
the beauty, and elegance, as much as if I owned it all. So you
see, that my enjoyments are as varied as the universe itself."
" Eureka !" murmured Cornelia, eyeing her companion curi-
ously, " Eureka I" you shall have the tallest case in the British
Museum, or Barnum's, just as your national antipathies may
incline you."
" What impresses you as so singular in my mode of life ?"
asked Beulah, rather dryly.
" Your philosophic contentment, which I believe you are too
candid to counterfeit. Your easy solution of that great human
riddle, given the world, to find happiness. The Athenian and
Alexandrian schools dwindle into nothingness. Commend me to
your ' categories/ 0, Queen of Philosophy." She withdrew her
searching eyes, and fixed them moodily on the fire, twirling the
tassel of her robe, as she mused.
" You are most egregiously mistaken, Cornelia, if you have
been led to suppose, from what I said a moment since, that I
am never troubled about anything. I merely referred to enjoy-
ments derived from various sources, open alike to rich and poor.
There are Marahs hidden in every path ; no matter whether
the draught is taken in jewelled goblets or unpolished gourds."
244 B E U L A H .
"Sometimes, then, you are 'blued' most dismally, like the
balance of unphilosophic men and women, eh ?"
" Occasionally, my mind is very much perplexed and dis-
turbed ; not exactly ' blued ' as you express it, but dimmed,
clouded."
" What clouds it ? will you tell me ?" said Cornelia, eagerly.
" The struggle to see that, which I suppose it never was
intended I should see."
" I don't understand you," said Cornelia, knitting her brows.
" Nor would you, even were I to particularize."
" Perhaps I am not so very obtuse as you fancy."
" At any rate, I shall not enter into detail," answered Beulah,
smiling quietly at the effect of her words.
" Do you ever weary of your books ?" Cornelia leaned for-
ward, and bent a long searching look on her guest's countenance
as she spoke.
"Not of my books; but sometimes, nay, frequently, of the
thoughts they excite."
" A distinction without a difference," said the invalid, coldly.
"A true distinction nevertheless," maintained Beulah.
lt Be good enough to explain it then."
"For instance, I read Carlyle for hours, without the' slightest
sensation of weariness. Midnight forces me to lay the book
reluctantly aside, and then the .myriad conjectures and inquiries
which I am conscious of, as arising from those same pages,
weary me beyond all degrees of endurance."
" And these conjectures cloud your mind ?" said Cornelia,
with a half smile breaking over her face.
" 1 did not say so, I merely gave it as an illustration of what
you professed not to understand."
" I see your citadel of reserve and mistrust cannot be carried
by storm," answered Cornelia, petulantly.
Before Beulah could reply, a servant entered, and addressed
Cornelia.
" Your mother wants to show your Paris hat and veil, and
B E U L A H . 245
handsomest point-lace set, to Mrs. Vincent, and Miss Julia says,
can't she run up and see you a minute ?"
A sneering smile accompanied the contemptuous answer,
which was delivered in no particularly gentle manner.
"This is the second time, those 'particular friends' of ours
have called to inspect my winter outfit. Take down my entire
wardrobe to them : dresses, bonnets, mantles, laces, handker-
chiefs, ribbons, shawls nay, gloves and slippers, for there is a
1 new style ' of catch on one, and of bows and buckles on the
other. Do you hear me, Mary ? don't leave a rag of my French
finery behind. Let the examination be sufficiently complete this
time. Don't forget the Indian shawl and the opera cloak and
hood, nor that ornamental comb, named after the last popular
danseuse ; and tell Miss Julia she will please excuse me another
time I will try to see her. Say I am engaged."
Some moments elapsed, during which Mary opened and shut a
number of drawers and boxes, and finally disappeared, stagger-
ing beneath a load of silks, velvets and laces. As the door
closed behind her, Cornelia smoothed her brow, and said, apolo-
getically :
" Doubtless, it seems a mere trifle of accommodation to display
all that mass of finery to their eagerly curious eyes ; but I
assure you, that though I have not been at home quite a week,
those things have vacated their places at least twenty times for
inspection ; and this ridiculous mania for the ' latest style ' dis-
gusts me beyond measure. I tell you, the majority of the women
in this town think of nothing else. I have not yet looked over
my wardrobe myself. Mother selected it in Paris, and I did not
trouble myself to examine it when it was unpacked."
Beulah smiled, but offered no comment. Cornelia suddenly
sank back in her chair, and said hastily :
" Give me that vial on the bureau ! Quick ! quick I"
Beulah sprang up and handed her the vial, which she put to
her lips. She was ghastly pale, her features writhed, and heavy
drops glistened on her brow, corrugated by severe pain.
24:6 B E II L A H .
" Can I do anything for you, Cornelia ? Shall I call your
mother ?"
" No. You may fan me, if you will." She moaned and closed
her eyes.
Beulah seized a fan, and did as requested, now and then
wiping away the moisture which gathered around the lips and
forehead. Gradually the paroxysm passed off, and opening her
eyes, she said, wearily :
" That will do, thank you. Now pour out a glass of water
from the pitcher yonder."
Beulah handed her the draught, saying, with surprise :
" Sitting wrapped up by a fire, and drinking ice water !"
" Yes, I use ice-water the year round. Please touch the bell-
rope, will you ?"
As Beulah resumed her seat, Cornelia added, with a forced
laugh :
" You look as if you pitied me."
" I do, most sincerely. Do you suffer in this way often ?"
" Yes no well, when I am prudent, I don't." Then turning
to the servant, who stood at the door, she continued : " John,
go to Dr. Hartwell's office (not his house, mind you), and leave
word that he must come here before night. Do you under-
stand ? shut the door stop ! send up some coal."
She drew her chair closer to the fire, and extending her slip-
pered feet on the marble hearth, said :
" I have suffered more during the last three days than in six
mouths before. Last night I did not close my eyes and Dr.
Hartwell must prepare me some medicine. What is the matter
with Clara Sanders ? She looks like an alabaster image 1"
" She has never recovered entirely from that attack of yellow
fever ; and a day or two ago, she took cold, and has had con-
stant fever since. I suppose she will see the doctor while I am
here. I feel anxious about her."
" She looks ethereal, as if refined for a translation to heaven,"
continued Cornelia, musingly ; then suddenly lifting her head,
B E U L A H . 24:7
she listened an instant, and exclaimed, angrily : " It is very
strange that I am not to have an hour's peace and enjoyment
with you, without "-
The door opened, and a graceful form and lovely face ap-
proached the fireplace. " Miss Benton, suffer me to introduce
my cousin, Miss Dupres," said Cornelia, very coldly.
The young lady just inclined her head, and proceeded to scan
Beulah's countenance and dress, with a degree of cool imperti-
nence which was absolutely amusing. Evidently, however, Cor-
nelia saw nothing amusing in this ill-bred stare, for she pushed a
light chair impatiently toward her, saying :
" Sit down, Antoinette !"
She threw herself into the seat, with a sort of languid grace,
and said, in the most musical of voices :
" Why would not you see Julia Vincent ? She was so much
disappointed."
" Simply and solely, because I did not choose to see her. Be
good enough to move your chair to one side, if you please,"
snapped Cornelia.
" That was very unkind in you, considering she is so fond of
you. We are all to spend the evening with her, next week :
you, and your brother, and I. A mere ' sociable,' she soys."
She had been admiringly inspecting her small hands, loaded
with diamonds ; and now turning round, she again freely scruti-
nized Beulah, who had been silently contemplating her beautiful
oval profile and silky auburn curls. Certainly, Antoinette
Dupres was beautiful, but it was such a beauty as one sees in
wax dolls blank, soulless, expressionless, if I may except the
predominating expression of self-satisfaction. Beulah's quiet
dignity failed to repel the continued stare fixed upon her, and
gathering up the folds of her shawl, she rose.
" Don't go," said Cornelia, earnestly.
" I must ; Clara is alone, and I promised to return soon."
" When will you come agaiu ?" Cornelia took her hand, and
pressed it warmly.
248 BETJfiAH.
" I really do not know. 1 hope you will be better soon."
" Eugene will be disappointed : he expects you to spend the
evening with us. What shall I tell him ?"
" Nothing."
" I will come and see you, the very first day I can get out of
this prison-house of mine. Meantime, if I send for you, will you
come and sit with me ?"
" That depends upon circumstances. If you are sick, and
lonely, I certainly will. Good bye."
" Good bye, Beulah. The hfcoghty heiress drew the orphan's
face down to hers, and kissed h)er cordially. Not a little sur-
prised by this unexpected demonstration of affection in one so
cold and stately, Beulah bowed distantly to the cousin, who
returned the salutation still more distantly, and hastening down
the steps, was glad to find herself once more under the dome of
sky, grey and rainy though it was. The wind sighed and sobbed
through the streets, and a few cold drops fell, as she approached
Mrs. Hoyt's. Quickening her steps, she ran in by a side entrance,
and was soon at Clara's room. The door stood open, and with
bonnet and shawl in her hand, she entered, little prepared to
meet her guardian, for she had absented herself, with the hope
of avoiding him. He was sitting by a table, preparing some
medicine, and looked up involuntarily as she came in. His eyes
lightened instantly, but he merely said :
" Good evening, Beulah."
The tone was less icy than on previous occasions, and crossing
the room at once, she stood beside him, and held out her hand.
" How are you, sir ?"
He did not take the hand, but looked at her keenly, and said:
11 You are an admirable nurse, to go off and leave your sick
friend."
Beulah threw down her bonnet and shawl, and retreating to
the hearth, began to warm her fingers, as she replied, with indif-
ference :
" I have just left another of your patients. Cornelia Graham
B E U L A H .
has been worse than usual for a day or two. Clara, I will put
away ray out-door wrappings, and be with you presently." She
retired to her own room, and leaning against the widow, where
the rain was now pattering drearily, she murmured faintly :
" Will he always treat me so ? Have I lost my friend for-
ever ? Once he was so different; so kind, even in his sternness 1"
A tear hung upon her lash, and fell on her hand ; she brushed
it hastily away, and stood thinking over this alienation, so pain-
ful and unnatural, when she heard her guardian close Clara's
door, and walk across the hall, to the head of the stairs. She
waited awhile, until she thought he had reached his buggy, and
slowly proceeded to Clara's room. Her eyes were fixed on the
floor, and her hand was already on the bolt of the door, when a
deep \oice startled her.
" Beulah !"
She looked up at him proudly. Resentment had usurped the
place of grief. But she could not bear the earnest eyes, that
looked into hers with such misty splendor ; and provoked at her
own emotion, she asked, coldly :
" What do you want, sir ?"
He did not answer at once, but stood observing her closely.
She felt the hot blood rush into her usually cold, pale face, and,
despite her efforts to seem perfectly indifferent, her eyelids and
lips would tremble. His hand rested lightly on her shoulder, and
he spoke very gently:
" Child, have you been ill? You look wretchedly. What ails
you, Beulah 1"
" Nothing, sir."
" That will not answer. Tell me, child, tell me !"
" I tell you I am as well as usual," cried she, impatiently, yet
her voice faltered. She was struggling desperately with her
own heart. The return of his old manner, the winning tones
of his voice, affected her more than she was willing he should
see.
" Beulah, you used to be truthful and candid."
11*
250 BETJLA.H.
"I am so still," she returned, stoutly, though tears began to
gather in her eyes.
" No, child, already the world has changed you."
A shadow fell over his face, and the sad eyes were like clouded
stars.
" You know better, sir ! I am just what I always was ! It is
you who are so changed ! Once you were my friend ; my guar-
dian ! Once you were kind, and guided me ; but now you are
stern, and bitter, and tyrannical 1" She spoke passionately, and
tears, which she bravely tried to force back, rolled swiftly down
her cheeks. His light touch on her shoulder tightened, until il
seemed a hand of steel, and with an expression which she nevei
forgot, even in after years, he answered :
" Tyrannical ! Not to you, child !"
" Yes, sir, tyrannical ! cruelly tyrannical ! Because I dared
to think and act for myself, you have cast me off utterly ! You
try to see how cold and distant you can be ; and show me that
you don't care whether I live or die, so long as I choose to be
independent of you. I did not believe that you could ever be SG
ungenerous !" She looked up at him with swimming eyes. He
smiled down into her tearful face, and asked:
" Why did you defy me, chill ?"
" I did not, sir, until you treated me worse than the servants.
Worse than you did Charon even."
" How ?"
" How, indeed ! You left me in your own house without one
word of good bye, when you expected to be absent an indefinite
time. Did you suppose, that I would remain there an hour
after such treatment ?"
He smiled again, and said in the low musical tone, which she
had always found so difficult to resist.
" Come back, my child. Come back to me I"
" Never, sir ! Nbfer !" answered she, resolutely.
A stony hue setttaz on his face ; the lips seemed instantly
frozen, and removing nis hand from her shoulder, he said, as if
BEULAH. 251
talking to a perfect stranger : " See that Clara Sanders needs
nothing ; she is far from being well."
He left her, but her heart conquered for an instant, and she
sprang down two steps, and caught his hand. Pressing her face
against his arm, she exclaimed brokenly :
" Oh, sir ! do not cast me off entirely ! My friend, my guar-
dian ; indeed, I have not deserved this I"
He laid his hand on her bowed head, and said calmly :
" Fierce, proud spirit ! Ah ! it will take long years of trial
and suffering to tame you. Go, Beulah ! You have cast your-
self off. It was no wish, no work of mine."
He lifted her head from his arm, gently unclasped her fingers,
and walked away. Beulah dried the tears on her cheek, and com-
posing herself by a great effort, returned to Clara. The latter
still sat in an easy-chair, and leaned back with closed eyes.
Beulah made no effort to attract her attention, and sat down
noiselessly to reflect upon her guardian's words, and the separa-
tion which, she now clearly saw, he intended should be final.
There, in the gathering gloom of twilight, sat Clara Sanders,
nerving her heart for the dreary future ; solemnly and silently
burying the cherished hopes that had irised her path, and now
looking steadily forward to coming years, she said to her droop-
ing spirit, " be strong, and bear this sorrow. I will conquer my
own heart." How is it, that when the human soul v is called to
pass through a fierce ordeal, and numbing despair seizes the
faculties and energies in her sepulchral grasp, how is it, that
superhuman strength is often suddenly infused into the sinking
spirit ? There is a mysterious yet resistless power given, which
winds up, and sets again in motion, that marvellous bit of
mechanism, the human will ; that curiously intricate combination
of wheels ; that mainspring of action, which has baffled the
ingenuity of philosophers, and remains yet undiscovered, behind
the cloudy shrine of the unknown. Now, there are times when
this human clock well-nigh runs down ; when it seems that voli-
tion is dead; when the past is all gilded, the future all shrouded,
252 B E U L A H .
and the soul grows passive, hoping nothing, fearing nothing.
Yet when the slowly-swinging pendulum seems about to rest, even
then an unseen hand touches the secret spring; and as the curious-
ly folded coil quivers on again, the resuscitated will is lifted tri-
umphantly back to its throne. This new-born power is from
God. But, ye wise ones of earth, tell us how, and by whom, is
the key applied ? Are ministering angels (our white-robed idols,
our loved dead) ordained to keep watch over the machinery of
the will, and attend to the winding up ? Or is this infusion of
strength, whereby to continue its operations, a sudden tightening
of those invisible cords, which bind the All-Father to the spirits
he has created ? Truly, there is no (Edipus for this vexing rid-
dle. Many luckless theories have been devoured by the Sphinx;
when will metaphysicians solve it ? One tells us vaguely enough,
"who knows the mysteries of will, with its vigor? Man doth
not yield him to the angels, nor unto death, utterly, save only
through the weakness of his feeble will." This pretty bubble of
a " latent strength " has vanished ; the power is from God ; but
who shall unfold the process ? Clara felt that this precious help
was given in her hour of need; and looking up undauntedly to the
clouds that darkened her sky, said to her hopeless heart : " I
will live to do my duty, and God's work on earth : I will go
bravely forward in my path of labor, strewing flowers and sun-
shine. If God needs a lonely, chastened spirit to do his behests,
oh ! shall I murmur, and die because I am chosen ? What are
the rushing, howling waves of life, in comparison with the calm,
shoreless ocean of all eternity ?"
The lamp was brought in, and the fire renewed, and the two
friends sat by the hearth, silent, quiet. Clara's face had a sweet,
serene look ; Beulah's was composed, so far as rigidity of fea-
tures betokened ; yet the firm curve of her full upper lip might
have indexed somewhat of the confusion which reigned in her
mind. Once, a great, burning light flashed out from her eyes,
then the lashes drooped a little, and veiled the storm. After a
time, Clara lifted her eyes, and said, gently :
BEULAH. 253
" Will you read to me, Beulah ?"
" Gladly, gladly ; what shall it be ?" She sprang up eagerly.
"Anything hopeful and strengthening Anything but your
study-books of philosophy and metaphysics. Anything but
those, Beulah."
" And why not those ?" asked the girl, quickly.
" Because they always confuse and darken me. 7 '
"You do not understand them, perhaps ?"
" I understand them sufficiently to know that they are not
what I need."
" What do you need, Clara ?"
" The calm content and courage to do my duty through life.
I want to be patient and useful."
The grey eyes rested search ingly on the sweet face, and then
with a contracted brow Beulah stepped to the window and looked
out. The night was gusty, dark and rainy ; heavy drops pat-
tered briskly down the panes. She turned away, and standing
on the hearth, with her hands behind her, slowly repeated the
beautiful lines, beginning :
" The day is done, and the darkness
Falls from the wings of night,
As a feather is wafted downward
From an eagle in his flight."
Her voice was low and musical, and as she concluded the short
poem which seemed so singularly suited to Clara's wishes, the .
latter said earnestly :
" Yes, yes, Beulah,
" ' Such songs have power to quiet
The restless pulse of care,
And come like the benediction
That follows after prayer.'
Let us obey the poet's injunction, and realize the closing lines :
254 B E U L A H .
" 'And the night shall be filled with music,
And the cares that infest the day,
Shall fold their tents, like the Arabs,
And as silently steal away.' "
Still Beulah stood on the hearth, with a dreamy abstraction
looking out from her eyes, and when she spoke there was a touch
of impatience in her tone :
" Why try to escape it all, Clara ? If those ' grand old mas-
ters/ those ' bards sublime,' who tell us in trumpet-tones of life's
endless toil and endeavor,' speak to you through my loved books,
why should you ' long for rest ?"
" An unfledged birdling cannot mount to the dizzy eyries of
the eagle," answered Clara, meekly.
" One grows strong only by struggling with difficulties. Strong
swimmers are such from fierce buffetings with hungry waves.
Come out of your warm nest of inertia ! Strengthen your wings
by battling with storm and wind !" Her brow bent as s)ie spoke.
" Beulah, what sustains you would starve me."
" Something has come over you, Clara.
" Yes ; a great trust in God's wisdom and mercy has stolen
into my heart. I no longer look despondingly into my future."
" Why ? Because you fancy that future will be very short
and painless ? Ah, Clara, is this trust, when the end comes, and
there is no more work to do ?"
" You are mistaken ; I do not see death beckoning me home.
Oh, I have not earned a home yet ! I look forward to years of
labor, profit, and peace. To-day I found some lines in the morn-
ing paper. Nay, don't curl your lips with a sneer at what you
call ' newspaper poetry.' Listen to the words that came like a
message from the spirit-land to my murmuring heart." Her
voice was low and unsteady, as she read :
" * Two hands upon the breast, and labor's done :
Two pale feet crossed in rest, the race is won.
Two eyes with coin- weights shut, all tearg cease;
BEULAII. 255
Two lips where grief is mute, and wrath at peace.
So pray we oftentimes, mourning our lot ;
God, in his kindness, answereth not !'
Such, Beulah, I felt had been ray unvoiced prayer ; but now:
" ' Two hands to work addressed ; aye, for his praise,
Two feet that never rest ; walking his ways ;
Two eyes that look above, still through all tears;
Two lips that breathe but love ; never more fears.
So we cry afterward, low at our knees,
Pardon those erring cries I Father, hear these /'
Oh, Beulah, such is now my prayer."
As Beulah stood near the lamp, strange shadows fell on her
brow ; shadows from the long, curling lashes. After a brief
silence, she asked, earnestly :
" Are your prayers answered, Clara ? Does God hear you ?"
" Yes ; oh yes !"
" Wherefore ?"
" Because Christ died !"
" Is your faith in Christ so firm ? Does it never waver ?"
" Never ; even in my most desponding moments."
Beulah looked at her keenly ; and asked, with something like
a shiver :
" Did it never occur to you to doubt the plan of redemption,
as taught by divines ; as laid down in the New Testament ?"
" No, never. I want to die before such a doubt occurs to
me. Oh, what would my life be without that plan ? What
would a fallen, sin-cursed world be without a Jesus ?"
" But why curse a race in order to necessitate a Saviour ?"
Clara looked in astonishment at the pale, fixed features before
her. A frightened expression came over her own countenance,
a look of shuddering horror ; and putting up her wasted hands,
as if to ward off some grim phantom, she cried :
" Oh, Beulah 1 what is this ? You are not an infidel ?"
Her companion was silent a moment j then said, emphatically :
256 BEULAH.
" Dr. Hartwell does not believe the religion you hold so
dear." Clara covered her face with her hands, and answered,
brokenly :
" Beulah, I have envied you ; because I fancied that your
superior intellect won you the love which I was weak enough to
expect, and need. But if it has brought you both to doubt the
Bible, I thank God that the fatal gift was withheld from me.
Have your books and studies brought you to this ? Beulah !
Beulah ! throw them into the fire, and come back to trust in
Christ." She held out her hands imploringly, but with a singu-
larly cold smile, her friend replied :
" You must go to sleep. Your fever is rising. Don't talk
any more to-night ; I will not hear you."
An hour after, Clara slept soundly, and Beulah sat in her owii
room bending over a book. Midnight study had long since
become a habitual thing; nay, two and three o'clock, fre-
quently found her beside the waning lamp. Was it any
marvel that, as v Dr. Hartwell expressed it, she "looked wretch-
edly." From her earliest childhood, she had been possessed by
an active spirit of inquiry, which constantly impelled her to
investigate, and as far as possible to explain the mysteries which
surrounded her on every side. With her growth, grew this
haunting spirit, which asked continually : " What am I ?
Whence did I come ? And whither am I bound ? What is
life ? What is death ? Am I my own mistress, or am I but a
tool in the hands of my Maker ? What constitutes the diffe-
rence between my mind, and my body ? Is there any difference ?
If spirit must needs have body to incase it, and body must have
a spirit to animate it, may they not be identical ? With these
primeval foundation questions, began her speculative career. In
the solitude of her own soul, she struggled bravely and earnestly
to answer those " dread questions, which, like swords of flaming
fire, tokens of imprisonment, encompass man on earth." Of
course, mystery triumphed. Panting for the truth, she pored
over her Bible, supposing that here, at least, all clouds would
BEULAH. 257
melt away; but here, too, some inexplicable passages confronted
her. Physically, morally, and mentally, she found the world
warring. To reconcile these antagonisms with the conditions
and requirements of Holy Writ, she now most faithfully set to
work. Ah, proudly-aspiring soul 1 How many earnest thinkers
had essayed the same mighty task, and died under the intoler-
able burden ? Unluckily for her, there was no one to direct or
assist her. She scrupulously endeavored to conceal her doubts
and questions from her guardian. Poor child ! she fancied she
concealed them so effectually from his knowledge ; while he
silently noted the march of skepticism in her nature. There
were dim, puzzling passages of Scripture, which she studied on
her knees; now trying to comprehend them, and now beseeching
the Source of all knowledge to enlighten her. But, as has hap-
pened to numberless others, there was seemingly no assistance
given. The clouds grew denser and darker, and like the " cry
of strong swimmers in their agony," her prayers had gone up to
the Throne of Grace. Sometimes she was tempted to go to the
' minister of the church, where she sat Sunday after Sunday, and
beg him to explain the mysteries to her. But the pompous
austerity of his manners repelled her whenever she thought of
broaching the subject, and gradually she saw that she must work
out her own problems. Thus, from week to week, and month
to month, she toiled on, with a slowly dying faith, constantly
clambering over obstacles which seemed to stand between her
trust and revelation. It was no longer study for the sake of
erudition ; these riddles involved all that she prized in Time
and Eternity, and she grasped books of every description with
the eagerness of a famishing nature. What dire chance threw
into her hands such works as Emerson's, Carlyle's and Goethe's.
Like the waves of the clear, sunny sea, they only increased her
thirst to madness. Her burning lips were ever at these foun-
tains ; and in her reckless eagerness, she plunged into the gulf
of German speculation. Here she believed that she had indeed
found the " true processes," and with renewed zest, continued
258 BEULAH.
the work of questioning. At this stage of the conflict, the
pestilential scourge was laid upon the city, and she paused from
her metaphysical toil to close glazed eyes and shroud soulless
clay. In the awful hush of those hours of watching, she looked
calmly for some solution, and longed for the unquestioning faith
of early years. But these influences passed without aiding her
in the least, and with rekindled ardor, she went back to her
false prophets. In addition, ethnology beckoned her on to con-
clusions apparently antagonistic to the revealed system, and the
stony face of geology seemed radiant with characters of light,
which she might decipher and find some security in. From Dr.
Asbury's extensive collection, she snatched treatise after treatise.
The sages of geology talked of the pre-Adamic eras, and of
man's ending the slowly forged chain, of which the radiata form
the lowest link ; and then she was told that in those pre-Adamic
ages, Palaeontologists find no trace whatever of that golden
time, when the vast animal creation lived in harmony, and
bloodshed was unknown; ergo, man's fall in Eden had no agency
in bringing death into the world ; ergo, that chapter in Genesis
need puzzle her no more.
Finally, she learned that she was the crowning intelligence in
the vast progression ; that she would ultimately become part of
Deity. " The long ascending line, from dead matter to man,
had been a progress Godwards, and the next advance would
unite creation and Creator in one person." With all her aspira-
tions, she had never dreamed of such a future as was here
promised her. To-night she was closely following that most
anomalous of all guides, " Herr Teufelsdrockh!" Urged on by
the same " unrest," she was stumbling along dim, devious paths,
while from every side whispers came to her : " Nature is one :
she is your mother, and divine : she is God \ The ' living gar-
ment of God.'" Through the "everlasting No," and the
" everlasting Yea," she groped her way, darkly, tremblingly,
waiting for the day-star of Truth to dawn ; but at last, when
she fancied she saw the first rays silvering the night, and looked
BE TIL AH. 259
up hopefully, it proved one of many ignes-fatui, which had
flashed across her path, and she saw that it was Goethe, uplifted
as the prophet of the genuine religion. The book fell from her
nerveless fingers; she closed her eyes, and groaned. It was all
" confusion, worse confounded." She could not for her life have
told what she believed, much less, what she did not believe.
The landmarks of earlier years were swept away ; the beacon
light of Calvary had sunk below her horizon. A howling chaos
seemed about to ingulf her. At that moment she would gladly
have sought assistance from her guardian ; but how could she
approach him after their last interview ? The friendly face and
corlial kindness of Dr. Asbury flashed upon her memory, and
shr resolved to confide her doubts and difficulties to him, hoping
to < -brain, from his clear and matured judgment, some clew which
mi^ht enable her to emerge from the labyrinth that involved
her. She knelt, and tried to pray. To what did she, on bended
knees, send up passionate supplications ? To nature ? to heroes ?
These were the new deities. She could not pray ; all grew
dark ; she pressed her hands to her throbbing brain, striving to
clear away the mists. "Sartor" had effectually blindfolded
her, and she threw herself down to sleep with a shivering
dread, as of a young child separated from its mother, and
wailing in some starless desert.
CHAPTER XXI.
IT was Christmas eve; cold, cloudy, and damp. The store
windows were gay with every conceivable and inconceivable
device for attracting attention. Parents, nurses .and porters
hurried along with mysterious looking bundles, and important
countenances. Crowds of curious, merry children thronged the
260 BEULAH.
sidewalks; here a thinly clad, meagre boy, looked, with longing
eyes and empty pockets, at pyramids of fruit and sweetmeats;
and there a richly dressed group chattered like blackbirds, and
occasionally fired a pack of crackers, to the infinite dismay of
horses and drivers. Little chaps just out of frocks rushed
about, with their round rosy faces hid under grotesque masks;
and shouts of laughter, and the squeak of penny trumpets, and
mutter of miniature drums, swelled to a continuous din, which
would have been quite respectable even on the plain of Shinar.
The annual jubilee had come, and young and old seemed deter-
mined to celebrate it with due zeal. From her window, Beulah
looked down on the merry groups, and involuntarily contrasted
the bustling, crowded streets, with the silence and desolation
which had reigned over the same thoroughfares only a few
months before. One brief year ago, childish voices prattled of
Santa Glaus and gift stockings, and little feet pattered along
these same pavements, with tiny hands full of toys. Fond
parents, too, had gone eagerly in and out of these gay shops,
hunting presents for their darlings. Where were they ? chil-
dren and parents ? Ah ! a cold, silent band of sleepers in
yonder necropolis, where s.olemn cedars were chanting an ever-
lasting dirge. Death's harvest time was in all seasons; when
would her own throbbing pulses be stilled, and her questioning
tones hushed ? Might not the summons be on that very wintry
blast, which rushed over her hot brow ? And if it should be so ?
Beulah pressed her face closer to the window, and thought it
was too inconceivable that she also should die. She knew it
was the common birthright, the one unchanging heritage of all
humanity; yet long vistas of life opened before her, and though,
like a pall, the shadow of the tomb hung over the end, it was
very distant, very dim.
" What makes you look so solemn T" asked Clara, who had
been busily engaged in dressing a doll for one of Mrs. Hoyt's
children.
" Because I feel solemn, I suppose."
BEULAH. 261
Clara came up, and passing her arm round Beulah's shoulder,
gazed down into the noisy street. She still wore mourning, and
the alabaster fairness of her complexion contrasted vividly with
the black bombazine dress. Though thin and pale, there was an
indescribable expression of peace on the sweet face ; a calm,
clear light of contentment in the mild, brown eyes. The holy
serenity of the countenance was rendered more apparent by the
restless, stormy visage, of her companion. Every passing cloud
of perplexed thought cast its shadow over Beulah's face, and on
this occasion she looked more than usually grave.
"Ah! how merry I used to be on Christmas eve. Indeed, I
can remember having been half wild with excitement. Yet now
it all seems like a flitting dream." Clara spoke musingly, yet
without sadness.
" Time has laid his wonder-working touch upon you," answered
Beulah.
" How is it, Beulah, that you never speak of your childhood?"
" Because it was
" * All dark and barren as a rainy sea.' "
" But you never talk about your parents ?"
" I love my father's memory. Ah 1 it is enshrined in my heart's
holiest sanctuary. He was a noble, loving man, and my affec-
tion for him bordered on idolatry."
" And your mother ?"
" I knew little of her. She died before I was old enough to
remember much about her." Her face was full of bitter recol-
lections; her eyes seemed wandering through some storehouse
of sorrows. Clara feared her friend, much as she loved her, and
since the partial discovery of her skepticism, she had rather
shunned her society. Now she watched the heavy brow, and
deep, piercing eyes, uneasily, and gently withdrawing her arm,
she glided out of the room. The tide of life still swelled through
the streets, and forcibly casting the load of painful reminiscences
from her, Beulah kept her eyes on the merry faces, and listened
262 BEULAH.
to the gay, careless prattle of the excited children. The stately
rustle of brocaded silk caused her to look up, and Cornelia
Graham greeted her with:
" I have come to take you home with me for the holidays."
" I can't go."
"Why not? You cling to this dark garret of yours as if it
possessed all the charms of Vaucluse."
" Diogenes loved his tub, you know," said Beulah, quietly.
" An analogous case, truly. But jesting aside, you must
come, Beulah. Eugene expects you; so do my parents; and,
above all, I want you. Come." Cornelia laid her hand on the
girl's shoulder as she spoke.
" You have been ill again," said Beulah, examining the sallow
face.
" Not ill, but I shall be soon, I know. One of my old attacks
is coming on; I feel it; and Beulah, to be honest, which I can
with you (without casting pearls before swine), that very cir-
cumstance makes me want you. I dined out to-day, and have
just left the fashionable crowd to come and ask you to spend the
holidays with me. The house will be gay. Antoinette intends
to have a set of tableaux, but it is probable I shall be confined
to my room. Will you give your time to a cross invalid, for
such I certainly am ? I would be stretched upon St. Lawrence's
gridiron before I could be brought to say as much to anybody
else. I am not accustomed to ask favors, Beulah; it has been
my habit to grant them. Nevertheless, I want you, and am not
too proud to come after you. Will you come ?"
" Yes, if I may remain with you, altogether."
" Thank you. Come, get ready, quick ! Give me a fan."
Sinking into a chair, she wiped away the cold drops which had
collected about her brow.
" Cornelia, I have only one day's leisure. School begins again
day- after-to-morrow . "
" Well, well ; one day, then. Be quick."
In a few moments, Beulah was ready ; and after informing
BETTLAH. 263
Clara and Mrs. Hoyt of her intended absence, the two entered
Mr. Graham's elegant carriage. The gas was now lighted, and
the spirited horses dashed along, through streets brilliantly illumi-
nated and thronged with happy people.
" What a Babel ! About equal to Constantinople, and its
dog-orchestra," muttered Cornelia, as the driver paused to allow
one of the military companies to pass. The martial music,
together with the hubbub which otherwise prevailed, alarmed
the horses, and they plunged violently. The driver endeavored
to back out into an alley, but in the attempt, the carriage was
whirled round, the coachman jerked over the dashboard into the
gutter, and the frightened animals dashed at furious speed down
the main street. Luckily the top was thrown back, making the
carriage open, and springing forward to the post so unceremo-
niously vacated by the driver, Beulah snatched the reins, which
were just within her reach. Curb the rushing horses, she did
not hope to do, but by cautious energy, succeeded in turning
them sufficiently aside to avoid coming in collision with several
other carriages. The street was full of vehicles, and though, as
may well be imagined, there was every effort made to give the
track, the carriage rushed against the bright yellow wheels of a
light buggy in which two young men were trying to manage a
fast trotter. There was a terrible smash of wheels, the young
gentlemen were suddenly landed in the mud, and their emanci-
pated steed galloped on, with the wreck of the buggy at his heels.
Men, women, and children gathered on the corners to witness the
denoument. Drays, carts, and wagons were seized with a simul-
taneous stampede, which soon cleared the middle of the street,
and, uninjured by the collision, our carriage flew on. Cornelia
sat on the back seat, ghastly pale, and motionless, expecting
every minute to be hurled out, while Beulah stood up in front,
reins in hand, trying to guide the maddened horses. Her bon-
net fell off ; the motion loosened her comb, and down came her
long, heavy hair, in black, blinding folds. She shook it all
back from her face, and soon saw that this reckless game of
264: BEULAH.
dodging vehicles could not last much longer. Right ahead, at
the end of the street, was the wharf, crowded with cotton bales,
barrels, and a variety of freight ; just beyond was the river. A
number of gentlemen stood on a neighboring corner, and with
one impulse they rushed forward with extended arms. On
sprang the horses, almost upon them ; eager hands grasped at
the bits.
" Stand back all of you ! You might as well catch at the
winds I" shouted Beulah, and with one last effort, she threw her
whole weight on the reins, and turned the horses into a cross
street. The wheels struck the curbstone, the carriage tilted,
rocked, fell back again, and on they went for three squares
more, when the horses stopped short before the livery-stable
where they were kept. Embossed with foam, and panting like
stags at bay, they were seized by a dozen hands.
"By all the gods of Greece I you have had a flying trip of
it !" cried Dr. Asbury, with one foot on the carriage step, and
both hands extended, while his grey hair hung in confusion about
his face. He had followed them for at least half-fi-dozen blocks,
and was pale with anxiety.
" See about Cornelia," said Beulah, seating herself for the first
time, and twisting up the veil of hair which swept round her
form.
" Cornelia has fainted ! Halloo, there ! some water I quick !"
said the doctor, stepping into the carriage, and attempting to
lift the motionless figure. But Cornelia opened her eyes, and
answered unsteadily :
" No I carry me home ! Dr. Asbury, take me home ? 7 '
The brilliant eyes closed, a sort of spasm distorted her fea-
tures, and she sank back once more, rigid and seemingly lifeless.
Dr. Asbury took the reins firmly in his hands, seated himself,
and speaking gently to the trembling horses, started homeward.
They plunged violently at first, but he used the whip unsparingly,
and in a few moments they trotted briskly along. Mrs. Graham
and her niece had not yet reached home, but Mr. Graham met
BEULAH. 265
the carriage at the door, with considerable agitation and alarm
in his usually phlegmatic countenance. As Cornelia's colorless
face met his view, he threw up his hands, staggered back, and
exclaimed :
" My God 1 is she dead ? I knew it would end this way,
some day I"
" Nonsense, Graham ! She is frightened out of her wits
that is all ? These Yankee horses of yours have been playing
the very deuce. Clear the way there, all of you 1"
Lifting Cornelia in his strong arms, Dr. Asbury carried her up
to her own room, and placed her on a sofa. Having known her
from childhood, and treated her so often in similar attacks, he
immediately administered some medicine, and ere long had the
satisfaction of seeing the rigid aspect leave her face. She sat
up, and without a word, began to take off her kid gloves, which
fitted tightly. Suddenly looking up at her father, who was
anxiously regarding her, she said, abruptly :
" There are no more like her she kept me from making a
simpleton of myself."
" Whom do you mean, my dear ?"
" Whom ? whom ? why, Beulah Benton, of course ! Where
is she ? Come out of that corner, you quaint, solemn statue !"
She held out her hand, and a warm, glad smile broke over her
pallid face, as Beulah approached her.
" You certainly created a very decided sensation. Beulah
made quite a passable Medea, with her inky hair trailing over
the back of the seat, and her little hands grasping the reins
with desperate energy. By Phoebus I you turned that corner at
the bank, like an electric bolt. Shake hands, Beulah ! After
this, you will do in any emergency." The doctor looked at her
with an expression of paternal pride and affection.
" I feel very grateful to you," began Mr. Graham ; but Beulah
cut short his acknowledgments, by saying hastily :
"Sir, I did nothing at all ; Dr. Asbury is resolved to make a
heroine of me, that is all. You owe me nothing."
12
266 B E U L A H .
At this moment the coachman limped into the room, with
garments dabbled with mud, and inquired anxiously whether the
young ladies were hurt.
"No, you son of Pluto ; not hurt at all, thanks to your care-
ful driving," answered the doctor, putting his hands in his pockets,
and eyeing the discomfited coachman humorously.
" Were you hurt by your fall ?" asked Beulah.
" Considerable bumped and thumped, but not much hurt, thank
you, miss. I was awfully scared when I rose out of that choking
gutter, and saw you standing up, and the horses flying, like ole
Satan himself was after them. I am marvellous glad nothing
was hurt. And now, master, sir, I want you to go to the mayor
and have this 'ere fire-cracker-business stopped. A parcel of ras-
cally boys set a match to a whole pack, and flung 'em right
under Andrew Jackson's feet ! Of course I couldn't manage
him after that. I 'clare to gracious 1 it's a sin and a shame, the
way the boys in this town do carry on Christmas times, and
indeed every other time !" Wilson hobbled out, grumbling
audibly.
" Beulah, you must come and spend Christmas at my house.
The girls and my wife were talking about it to-day, and con-
cluded to send the carriage for you early in the morning." The
doctor drew on his gloves as he spoke.
"They may spare themselves the trouble, sir ; she spends it
with me," answered Cornelia.
" With you ! After such a frolic as you two indulged in this
evening, you ought not to be trusted together. If I had not
been so anxious about you, I could have laughed heartily at the
doleful countenances of those two young gents, as they picked
themselves up out of the mud. Such rueful plight as their lemon-
colored gloves were in ! I will send Hart well to see you to-
morrow, Cornelia. A merry Christmas to you all, in spite of your
Mazeppa episode." His good-humored countenance vanished.
" There comes Antoinette ejaculating up the steps. Father,
tell her I do not want to see her, or anybody else. Don't let her
BEULAH. 267
come in here," cried Cornelia, with a nervous start, as voices
were heard in the passage.
Mr. Graham, who felt a certain awe of his willful child, not-
withstanding his equable temper, immediately withdrew. His
wife hastened into the room, and with trembling lips touched her
daughter's cheek and brow, exclaiming :
" Oh, my child, what a narrow escape ! It is horrible to think
of horrible !"
" Not at all, mother, seeing that nothing was hurt in the least.
I was sick, any way, as I told you. Don't you see Beulah sitting
there ?"
Mrs. Graham welcomed her guest cordially.
" You have a great deal of presence of mind, I believe, Miss
Beulah ? You are fortunate."
" I thanked my stars that Antoinette was not in the carriage,
for most certainly she would have made matters worse, by scream-
ing like an idiot, and jumping out. Beulah taught me common
sense," answered Cornelia, unclasping a bracelet, and tossing a
handful of jewelry across the room to her dressing-table.
" You underrate yourself, my dear," said her mother, a little
proudly.
" Not at all. Humility, genuine or feigned, is not one of our
family traits. Mother, will you send up tea for us ? We want
a quiet time ; at least I do, and Beulah will stay with me."
" But, my love, it is selfish to exclude the balance of the family.
Why not come down to the sitting-room, where we can all be to-
gether ?" pleaded the mother.
" Because I prefer staying just where I am. Beulah, put down
that window, will you ? Mary must think that I have been con-
verted into a Polar bear ; and mother, have some coal brought
up. If there is any truth in the metempsychosis of the Orient, I
certainly was a palm-tree or a rhinoceros in the last stage of my
existence." She shivered, and wrapped a heavy shawl up to her
very chin.
" May I come in ?" asked Eugene at the door.
268 BEULAH.
.
" No ; go and sing duets with Netta, and amuse yourself down-
stairs," said she, shortly, while a frown darkened her face.
Nevertheless he came in, shook hands with Beulah, and lean-
ing over the back of Cornelia's chair, asked tenderly :
" How is my sister ? I heard on the street that you were
injured."
" Oh, I suppose the whole city will be bemoaning niy tragic
fate. I am not at all hurt, Eugene."
" You have had one of those attacks, though, I see from your
face. Has it passed off entirely ?"
" No ; and I want to be quiet. Beulah is going to read me to
sleep after a while. You may go down, now."
" Beulah, you will be with us to-morrow, I suppose ?"
" Yes."
" I am sorry I am obliged to dine out ; I shall be at home,
however, most of the day. I called the other evening, but you
were not at home."
" Yes ; I was sorry I did not see you," said Beulah, looking
steadily at his flushed face and sparkling eyes.
" Dine out, Eugene ! For what, I should like to know ?" cried
Cornelia, raising herself in her chair, and fixing her eyes impa-
tiently upon him.
" Henderson and Milbank are both here, you know, and I
could not refuse to join them in a Christmas dinner."
"Then, why did you not invite them to dine at your own
house ?" Her voice was angry ; her glance searching.
" The party was made up before I knew anything about it.
They will all be here in the evening."
" I doubt it !" said she, sneeringly. The flush deepened on his
cheek, and he bit his lip ; then turning suddenly to Beulah, he
said, as he suffered his eyes to wander over her plain, fawn-
colored merino dress :
" You have not yet heard Netta sing, I believe 1"
" No."
"Where is she, Cornelia ?"
B E U L A H . 269
" I have no idea."
" I hope my sister will be well enough to take part in the
tableaux to-morrow evening." Taking her beautifully molded
hand, he looked at her anxiously. Her piercing, black eyes were
riveted on his countenance, as she answered :
" I don't know, Eugene ; I have long since abandoned the
hope of ever being well again. Perhaps I may be able to get
down to the parlors. There is Antoinette in the passage. Good
night." She motioned him away. He kissed her tenderly, shook
hands a second time with Beulah, and left the room. Cornelia
bowed her head on her palms- ; and though her features were
concealed, Beulah thought she moaned, as if in pain.
" Cornelia, are you ill again ? What can I do for you ?"
The feeble woman lifted her haggard face, and answered :
" What can you do ? That remains to be seen. Something
must be done. Beulah, I may die at any hour, and you must
save him."
" What do you mean ?" Beulah's heart throbbed painfully,
as she asked this simple question.
" You know very well what I mean ! Oh, Beulah ! Beulah !
it bows my proud spirit into the dust 1" Again she averted her
head ; there was a short silence. Beulah leaned her face on her
hand, and then Cornelia continued :
" Did you detect it when he first came home ?"
"Yes."
" Oh, it is like a hideous nightmare ! I cannot realize that
Eugene, so noble, so pure, so refined, could ever have gone to the
excesses he has been guilty of. He left home all that he should
be ; but five years abroad have strangely changed him. My
parents will not see it ; my mother says ' all young men are wild
at first ;' and my father shuts his eyes to his altered habits.
Eugene constantly drinks too much. I have never seen him
intoxicated. I don't know that he has been, since he joined us
in Italy, but I dread, continually, lest his miserable associates
lead him further astray. I had hoped that, in leaving his com-
270 BEULAH.
panious at the university, he had left temptation too ; but the
associates he has found here are even worse. I hope I shall be
quiet in my grave, before I see him drunk ! It would kill me, I
verily believe, to know that he had so utterly degraded himself.
She shaded her face with her hands, and Beulah replied, hastily:
" He surely cannot fall so low ! Eugene will never reel home,
an unconscious drunkard ! Oh, no, it is impossible ! impossible !
The stars in heaven will fall first !"
" Do you believe what you say ?"
" I hope it ; and hope engenders faith," answered Beulah.
A bitter smile curled Cornelia's lips, and sinking back in her
chair, she continued :
''Where excessive drinking is not considered a disgrace, young
men indulge, without a thought of the consequences. Instead of
excluding them from genteel circles, their dissipation is smoothed
over, or unnoticed ; and it has become so prevalent in this city
that of all the gentlemen whom I meet in so-called fashionable
society, there are very few who abstain from the wine-cup. I
have seen them at parties, staggering through a quadrille, or
talking the most disgusting nonsense to girls, who have long
since ceased to regard dissipation as a stigma upon the names and
characters of their friends. I tell you, the dissipation of the
young men here, is sickening to think of. Since I came home, I
have been constantly reminded of it ; and oh, Eugene is follow-
ing in their disgraceful steps! Beulah, if the wives, and mothers,
and sisters, did their duty, all this might be remedied. If they
carefully and constantly strove to shield their sons and brothers
from temptation, they might preserve them from the fatal habit,
which, once confirmed, it is almost impossible to eradicate. But
alas ! they smile as sweetly upon the reckless, intoxicated beaux,
as if they were what men should be. I fancied that I could rea-
dily redeem Eugene from his dangerous lapses, but my efforts
are rendered useless by the temptations which assail him from
every quarter. He shuns me ; hourly the barriers between us
strengthen. Beulah, I look to you. He loves you, and your
B E U L A U . 271
influence might prevail, if properly directed. You must save
him ! You must 1"
"I have not the influence you ascribe to me," answered
Beulah.
" Do not say so ! do not say so ! Are you not to be his wife
one day ?" She stood up, and heavy drops glistened on her
pale forehead.
" His wife 1 Cornelia Graham, are you mad ?" cried Beulah,
lifting her head proudly, and eyeing her companion with un-
feigned astonishment, while her eyes burned ominously.
" He told me that he expected to marry you ; that it had
always been a settled thing. Beulah, you have not broken the
engagement surely you have not ?" She grasped Beulah's arm
convulsively.
" No positive engagement ever existed. While we were child-
ren, we often spoke of our future as one, but of late, neither of
us have alluded to the subject. We are only friends, linked
by memories of early years. Nay, since his return, we have
almost become strangers."
"Then I have been miserably deceived. Not two months
since, he told me that he looked upon you as his future wife.
What has alienated you ? Beulah Benton, do you not love
him ?"
" Love him I No 1"
" You loved him once hush ! don't deny it 1 I know that
you did. You loved him during his absence, and you must love
him still. Beulah, you do love him 1"
" I have a true sisterly affection for him ; but as for the love,
which you allude to, I tell you, Cornelia, I have not one par-
ticle !"
" Then he is lost 1" Sinking back in her chair, Cornelia
groaned aloud.
" Why Eugene should have made such an impression on your
mind, I cannot conjecture. He has grown perfectly indifferent
to me ; and even if he had not, we could never be more than
272 BEIT LA H.
friends. Boyish fancies have all passed away. He is a man
now still my friend, I believe ; but no longer what he once was
to me. Cornelia, I, too, see his growing tendency to dissipation,
with a degree of painful apprehension, which I do not hesitate
to avow. Though cordial enough when we meet, I know and
feel that he carefully avoids me. Consequently, I have no oppor-
tunity to exert what little influence I may possess. I looked at
his flushed face, just now, and my thoughts flew back to the
golden days of his boyhood, when he was all that a noble, pure,
generous nature could make him. I would ten thousand times
rather know that he was sleeping by my little sister's side in the
graveyard, than see him disgrace himself !" Her voice faltered,
and she drooped her head to conceal the anguish which con-
vulsed her features.
" Beulah, if he loves you still, you will not reject him ?" cried
Cornelia, eagerly.
" He does not love me."
" Why will you evade me ? Suppose that he does ?"
" Then I tell you solemnly, not all Christendom could induce
me to marry him !"
" But to save him, Beulah 1 to save him !" replied Cor-
nelia, clasping her hands entreatingly.
" If a man's innate self-respect will not save him from habitual,
disgusting intoxication, all the female influence in the universe
would not avail. Man's will, like woman's, is stronger than his
affection, and once subjugated by vice, all external influences
will be futile. If Eugene once sinks so low, neither you, nor I,
nor his wife had he one could reclaim him."
" He has deceived me I Fool that I was, not to probe the
mask !" Cornelia started up, and paced the floor with uncon-
trollable agitation.
" Take care how you accuse him rashly I I am not prepared
to believe that he could act dishonorably toward any one I will
not believe it."
" Oh I you, too, will get your eyes open in due time. Ha ! ifc
B E U L A H . 273
is all as clear as daylight ! And I, with ray boasted pene-
tration ! it maddens me !" Her eyes glittered like polished
steel.
" Explain yourself ; Eugene is above suspicion 1" cried Beulah,
with pale, fluttering lips.
" Explain myself ! Then understand that my honorable bro-
ther professed to love you* and pretended that he expected to
marry yon, simply and solely to blind me, in order to conceal the
truth. I taxed him with a preference for Antoinette Dupres,
which I fancied his manner evinced. He denied it, most earn-
estly, protesting that he felt bound to you. Now do you under-
stand ?" Her lips were white, and writhed with scorn.
" Still you may misjudge him," returned Beulah, haughtily.
" No, no ! My mother lias seen it all along. But, fool that I
was, I believed his words ! Now, Beulah, if he marries Antoi-
nette, you will be amply revenged, or my name is not Cornelia
Graham ?" She laughed bitterly, and dropping some medicine
from a vial, swallowed the potion, and resumed her walk up and
down the floor.
" Revenged 1 What is it to me, that he should marry your
cousin ? If he loves her, it is no business of mine, and certainly
you have no right to object. You are miserably deceived if you
imagine that his marriage would cause me an instant's regret.
Think you I could love a man whom I knew to be my inferior ?
Indeed, you know little of my nature." She spoke with curling
lips and a proud smile.
" You place an exalted estimate upon yourself," returned Cor-
nelia.
They looked at each other half-defiantly, for a moment ; then
the heiress bowed her head, and said, in low broken tones :
" Oh, Beulah, Beulah ! child of poverty 1 would I could
change places with you 1"
" You are weak, Cornelia," answered Beulah, gravely.
" In some respects, perhaps, I am ; but you are bold to tell
me so."
12*
274
B E U L A H .
" Genuine friendship ignores all hesitancy in speaking the
truth. You sought me : I am very candid perhaps blunt. If
my honesty does not suit you, it is an easy matter to discontinue
our intercourse. The whole matter rests with you."
" You wish me to understand that you do not need my soci-
ety my patronage ?"
" Patronage implies dependence, which, in this instance, does
not exist. An earnest, self-reliant woman, cannot be patronized,
in the sense in which you employ the term." She could not
forbear smiling. The thought of being under patronage was, to
her, supremely ridiculous.
" You do not want my friendship, then ?"
" I doubt whether you have any to bestow. You seem to
have no love for anything," replied Beulab, coldly.
" Oh! you wrong me," cried Cornelia, passionately.
" If I do, it is your own fault. I only judge you from what
you have shown of your nature."
" Remember, I have been an invalid all my life."
" I am not likely to forget it in your presence; but, Cornelia,
your whole being seems embittered."
" Yes, and you will be just like me when you have lived as
long as I have. Wait till you have seen something of the
world."
" Sit down, Cornelia; you tremble from head to foot." She
drew a chair close to the hearth, and the sufferer sank into it,
as if completely exhausted. For some time neither spoke.
Beulah stood with her hands on the back of the chair, wishing
herself back in her quiet little room. After a while, Cornelia
said slowly:
" If you only knew Antoinette as well as I do, you could ill
brook the thought of her ever being Eugene's wife."
" He is the best judge of what will promote his happiness."
"No; he is blinded, infatuated. Her pretty face veils her
miserable, contemptible defects of character. She is utterly
unworthy of him."
B E u L A n . 275
"If she loves him sincerely, she will"
''Don't talk of what you do not understand. She is too
selfish to love anything or anybody but herself. Mark me,
whether I live to see it or not, if he marries her, he will despise
her in less than six months, and curse himself for his blind folly.
Oh, what a precious farce it will prove! 7 ' She laughed sneer-
ingly.
" Cornelia, you are not able to bear this excitement. For the
present, let Eugene and his future rest, and try to compose
yourself. You are so nervous, you can scarcely sit still."
The colorless face, with its gleaming eyes, was suddenly lifted;
and throwing her arms round Beulah's neck, Cornelia rested her
proud head on the orphan's shoulder.
" Be my friend while I live. Oh, give me some of your calm
contentment, some of your strength 1"
"I am your friend, Cornelia; I will always be such; but every
soul must be sufficient for itself. Do not look to me; lean upon
your own nature; it will suffice for all its needs."
With the young teacher, pity was almost synonymous with
contempt; and as she looked at the joyless face of her com-
panion, she could not avoid thinking her miserably weak.
CHAPTER XXII.
CHRISTMAS-DAY was sunny and beautiful. The bending sky
was as deeply blue as that which hung over Bethlehem eighteen
hundred years before; God's coloring had not faded. Happy
children prattled as joyously as did the little Jew boys who
clustered curiously about the manger, to gaze upon the holy
babe, the sleeping Jesus. Human nature had not altered one
whit beneath the iron wheel of Time. Is there a man so sunk
in infamy, or steeped in misanthropy, that he has not, at some
276 B E U L A H .
period of his life, exclaimed, in view of earth's fadeless beauty:
" This world is very lovely. my God !
I thank Thee that I live."
Alas, for the besotted soul, who cannot bend the knee of
humble adoration before nature's altar, .where sacrifices are
offered to the Jehovah, pavilioned in invisibility. There is an
ardent love of nature, as far removed from gross materialism or
subtle pantheism on the one hand, as from stupid inappreciation
on the other. There is such a thing as looking " through nature
up to nature's God," notwithstanding the frightened denials of
those who, shocked at the growing materialism of the age, would
fain persuade this generation to walk blindfold through the
superb temple a loving God has placed us in. While every
sane and earnest mind must turn, disgusted and humiliated,
from the senseless rant, which resolves all divinity into material-
istic elements, it may safely be proclaimed that genuine aesthetics
is a mighty channel, through which the love and adoration of
Almighty God enters the human soul. It were an insult to the
Creator to reject the influence which even the physical world
exerts on contemplative natures. From bald, hoary mountains,
and sombre, solemn forests ; from thundering waves, and way-
side violets ; from gorgeous sunset clouds, from quiet stars, and
whispering winds, come unmistakable voices, hymning of the
Eternal God : the God of Moses, of Isaac, and of Jacob.
Extremes meet in every age, and in every department. Because
one false philosophy would deify the universe, startled oppo-
nents tell us to close our ears to these musical utterances, and
shut our eyes to glorious nature, God's handiwork. Oh 1 why
has humanity so fierce a hatred of medium paths ?
Ragged boys and bare-footed girls tripped gaily along the
streets, merry and uncomplaining ; and surrounded by velvet,
silver and marble, by every superfluity of luxury, Cornelia
Graham, with a bitter heart and hopeless soul, shivered in her
B E U L A IT . . 277
easy-chair before a glowing fire. The Christmas sunlight crept
in through the heavy crimson curtains, and made gorgeous fret-
work on the walls, but its cheering radiance mocked the sickly
pallor of the invalid, and as Beulah retreated to the window and
peeped into the street, she felt an intense longing to get out
under the blue sky once more. Mr. and Mrs. Graham, and
Antoinette, sat round the hearth, discussing the tableaux for
the evening, while, with her cheek upon her hand, Cornelia
listlessly fingered a diamond necklace which her father had just
given her. The blazing jewels slipped through her pale fingers
all unnoticed, and she looked up abstractedly when Mr. Graham
touched her, and repeated his question for the third time :
" My child, won't you come down to the sitting-room 1 n
" No, sir ; I am better here."
" But you will be so lonely."
" Not with Beulah."
" But, of course, Miss Benton will desire to see the tableaux.
You would not keep her from them ?" remonstrated her father.
" Thank you, Mr. Graham, I prefer remaining with Cornelia,"
answered Beulah, who had no wish to mingle in the crowd
which, she understood from the conversation, would assemble
that evening in the parlors. The trio round the hearth looked
at each other, and evidently thought she manifested very
heathenish taste. Cornelia smiled, and leaned back with an
expression of pleasure, which very rarely lighted her face.
" You are shockingly selfish and exacting," said Antoinette,
curling her long ringlets over .her pretty fingers, and looking
very bewitching. Her cousin eyed her in silence, and not parti-
cularly relishing her daughter's keen look, Mrs. Graham rose,
kissed her forehead, and said, gently :
" My love, the Vincents, and Thorntons, and Hendersons all
sent to inquire after you this morning. Netta and I must go
down now, and prepare for our tableaux. I leave you in good
hands ; Miss Benton is considered an admirable nurse, I
believe."
278 BEULAH.
" Mother, where is Eugene ?"
" I really do not know. Do you, Mr. Graham ?"
" He has gone to the hotel to see some of his old Heidelberg
friends," answered Netta, examining Beulah's plain merino dress
very minutely as she spoke.
" When he comes home, be good enough to tell him that I
vish to see him."
" Yery well, my dear." Mrs. Gra.ham left the room, followed
oy her husband and niece. For some time, Cornelia sat just as
they left her ; the diamond necklace slipped down, and lay a
glittering heap on the carpet, and the delicate waxen hands
drooped listlessly over the arms of the chair. Her profile was
toward Beulah, who stood looking at the regular, beautiful
features, and wondering how (with so many elements of happi-
ness in her home) she could seem so discontented. She was
thinking, too, that there was a certain amount of truth in that
persecuted and ignored dictum, " A man only sees that which
he brings with him the power of seeing," when Cornelia raised
herself, and turning her head to look for her companion, said,
slowly :
" Where are you ? Do you believe in the Emersonian ' law
of compensation/ rigid and inevitable as fate ? I say, Beulah,
do you believe it ?"
," Yes, I believe it."
" Hand me the volume there on the table. His exposition of
' the absolute balance of Give and Take, the doctrine that
everything has its price, 7 is the grandest triumph of his genius.
For an hour this sentence has been ringing in my ears : ' in the
nature of the soul is the compensation for the inequalities of
condition. 7 We are samples of the truth 'of this. Ah, Beulah,
I have paid a heavy, heavy price ! You are destitute of one, it
is true, but exempt from the other. Yet, mark you, this law of
' compensation ' pertains solely to earth and its denizens ; the
very existence and operation of the law precludes the necessity,
and I may say the possibility of that future state, designed, as
BEULAH. 279
theologians argue, for rewards and punishments." She watched
her visitor very closely :
" Of course it nullifies the belief in future adjustments, for he
says emphatically, * Justice is not postponed. A perfect equity
adjusts its balance in all parts of life.' ' What will you have ?
Pay for it, and take it. Nothing venture, nothing have.'
There is no obscurity whatever in that remarkable essay on
compensation." Beulah took up one of the volumes, and turned
the pages carelessly.
" But all this would shock a Christian."
11 And deservedly ; for Emerson's works, collectively and indi-
vidually, are aimed at the doctrines of Christianity. There is a
grim, terrible fatalism scowling on his pages, which might well
frighten the reader who clasped the Bible to his heart."
" Yet you accept his ' compensation.' Are you prepared to
receive his deistic system?" Cornelia leaned forward, and
spoke eagerly. Beulah smiled.
" Why strive to cloak the truth ? I should not term his frag-
mentary system ' deistic.' He knows not yet what he believes.
There are singular antagonisms existing among even his pet
theories."
" I have not found any," replied Cornelia, with a gesture of
impatience.
" Then you have not studied his works as closely as I have
done. In one place, he tells you he feels ' the eternity of man,
the identity of his thought,' that Plato's truth, and Pindar's
fire, belong as much to him, as to the ancient Greeks, and on
the opposite page, if I remember aright, he says, ' Eare extrava-
gant spirits come by us at intervals, who disclose to us new facts
in nature. I see that men of God have, from time to time,
walked among men, and made their commission felt in the heart
and soul of the commonest hearer. Hence evidently the tripod,
the priest, the priestess, inspired by the divine afflatus.' Thus
at one moment he finds no ' antiquity in the worships of Moses, of
Zoroaster, of Menu, or Socrates, they are as much his as
280 . B E U L A II .
theirs/ and at another, clearly asserts that spirits do come into
the world to discover to us new truths. At some points we are
told that the cycles of time reproduce all things ; at others, this
theory is denied. Again in ' Self-Reliance,' he says, ' Trust thy-
self ; insist on yourself ; obey thy heart, and thou shalt repro-
duce the fore-world again. 7 All this was very comforting to
me, Cornelia ; self-reliance was the great secret of success and
happiness ; but I chanced to read the ' Over-Soul ' soon after,
and lo 1 these words : ' I am constrained every moment to
acknowledge a higher origin for events than the will I call
mine.' This was directly antagonistic to the entire spirit of
1 self-reliance ;' but I read on, and soon found the last sentence
utterly nullified by one which declared positively ' that the
Highest dwells with man ; the sources of nature are in his own
mind.' Sometimes we are informed that our souls are self-exist-
ing, and all powerful ; an incarnation of the divine and univer-
sal, and before we fairly digest this tremendous statement, he
coolly asserts that there is above all, an ' over-soul,' whose
inevitable decrees upset our plans, and ' overpower private will.'
Cognizant of these palpable contradictions, Emerson boldly
avows and defends them, by declaring that ' A foolish consistency
is the hobgoblin of little minds. With consistency, a great soul
has simply nothing to do. Speak what you think now in hard
words ; and to-morrow speak what to-morrow thinks in hard
words again, though it contradict everything you said to-day.
Why should you keep your head over your shoulder ? Why
drag about this corpse of your memory, lest you contradict
somewhat you have stated in this or that public place ? Sup-
pose you should contradict yourself?' His writings are, to me,
like heaps of broken glass, beautiful in the individual crystal,
sparkling, and often dazzling, but gather them up, and try to fit
them into a whole, and the jagged edges refuse to unite. Cer-
tainly, Cornelia, you are not an Emersonian." Her deep, quiet
eyes looked full into those of the invalid.
"Yes I am. I believe in that fatalism which he shrouds
BEULAH. 281
under the gauze of au ' Over-Soul/ replied Cornelia, impres-
sively.
" Then you are a fair sample of the fallacy of his system, if
the disjointed bits of logic deserve the name."
" How so ?"
" He continually exhorts to a happy, contented, and uncom-
plaining frame of mind ; tells you sternly, that ' Discontent is
the want of self-reliance ; it is infirmity of will. 7 "
11 Yon are disposed to be severe," muttered Cornelia, with an
angry flash.
" What ? because I expect his professed disciple to obey his
injunctions ?"
" Do you then conform so irreproachably to your own creed ?
Pray what is it ?"
" I have no creed. I am honestly and anxiously hunting one.
For a long time I thought that I had found a sound one in
Emerson. But a careful study of his writings taught me that
of all Pyrrhonists he is the prince. Can a creedless soul aid me
in my search ? verily no. He exclaims, ' To fill the hour that
is happiness ; to fill the hour, and leave no crevice for repent-
ance or an approval. We live amid surfaces, and the true art
of life, is to skate well on them. 7 Now this sort of oyster exist-
ence does not suit me, Cornelia Graham, nor will it suit you."
" You do him injustice. He has a creed (true it is pan-
theistic), which he steadfastly adheres to under all circum-
stances.' 7
" Oh 1 has he, indeed ? Then he flatly contradicts you when
he says, ' But lest I should mislead any, when I have my own
head, and obey my whims, let me remind the reader that I am
only an experimenter. Do not set the least value on what I do,
or the least discredit on what I do not, as if I pretended to settle
anything as true or false. I unsettle all things. No facts are
to me sacred ; none are profane. I simply experiment, an end-
less seeker, with no past at my back. 7 To my fancy that savors
strongly of nihilism, as regards creeds."
282 B E U L A H .
" There is no such passage in Emerson," cried Cornelia, stamp-
ing one foot, unconsciously, on her blazing necklace.
" Yes, the passage is, word for word, as I quoted it, and you
will find it in ' Circles.' n
" I have read ' Circles ' several times, and do not remember it.
At all events, it does not sound like Emerson."
" For that matter, his own individual circle of ideas is so
much like St. Augustine's ' Circle, of which the centre is every-
where and the circumference nowhere/ that I am not prepared
to say what may or may not be found within it. You will ulti-
mately think with me, that, though an earnest and profound
thinker, your master is no Memnon, waking only before the sun-
light of truth. His utterances are dim and contradictory." She
replaced the book on the table, and taking up a small basket
resumed her sewing.
'^But, Beulah, did you not accept his ' Law of Compensation ?' '
" I believe its operations are correct as regards mere socia
position : wealth, penury, even the endowments of genius. Bu'
further than this, I do not accept it. I want to believe that nrj
soul is immortal. Emerson's ' Duration of the attributes of th<
Soul ' does not satisfy me. I desire something more than ai
immutability, or continued existence hereafter, in the form of ai
abstract idea of truth, justice, love or humility."
Cornelia looked at her steadily, and after a pause, said, witl
indescribable bitterness and despair :
" If our past and present shadows the future, I hope that nrj
last sleep may be unbroken and eternal."
Beulah raised her head, and glanced searchingly at her com
panion ; then silently went on with her work.
" I understand your honest face. You think I have no caus<
to talk so. You see me surrounded by wealth; petted, indulgec
in every whim, and you fancy that I am a very enviable woman
but "
" There you entirely mistake me," interrupted Beulah, with i
cold smile
BEULAII. 283
" You think that I ought to be very happy and contented, and
useful in the sphere in which I move; and regard me, I know, as
a weak hypochondriac. Beulah, physicians told me, long ago,
that I lived upon the very brink of the grave, that I might die
at any moment, without warning. My grandmother and one of
my uncles died suddenly with this disease of the heart, and the
shadow of death seems continually around me ; it will not be
dispelled it haunts me forever. ' Boast not thyself of to-mor-
row/ said the preacher ; but I cannot even boast of to-day,
or this hour. The world knows nothing of this ; it has been
carefully concealed by my parents ; but I know it I and, Beulah,
I feel as did that miserable, doomed prisoner of Poe's ' Pit and
Pendulum/ who saw the -pendulum, slowly but surely, sweeping
down upon him. My life has been a great unfulfilled promise.
With what are generally considered elements of happiness in my
home, I have always been solitary and unsatisfied. Conscious of
my feeble tenure on life, I early set out to anchor myself in a
calm faith, which would secure -me a happy lot in eternity. My
nature was strongly religious, and I longed to find hope and
consolation in some of our churches. My parents always had a
pew in the fashionable church in this city. You need not smile
I speak advisedly when I say ' fashionable ' church; for assuredly,
fashion has crept into religion also, now-a-days. From my child-
hood, I was regularly dressed, and taken to church ; but I soon
began to question the sincerity of the pastor, and the consistency
of the members. Sunday after Sunday, I saw them in their
pews, and week after week, listened to their gossiping, slan-
derous chit-chat. Prominent members busied themselves about
charitable associations, and headed subscription lists, and all the
while set examples of frivolity, hear tlessness, "and what is softly
termed ' fashionable excesses/ which shocked my ideas of Christ-
ian propriety, and disgusted me with the mockery their lives
presented. I watched the minister in his social relations, and
instead of reverencing him as a meek and holy man of God, I
could not forbear looking with utter contempt upon his pompous,
284 BEULAH.
self-sufficient demeanor toward the mass of his flock ; while t
the most opulent and influential members he bowed down, with i
servile, fawning sycophancy, absolutely disgusting. I attende<
various churches, listening to sermons, and watching the conduc
of the prominent professing Christians of each. Many gav
most liberally to so-called religious causes and institutions, an<
made amends by heavily draining the purses of widows an<
orphans. Some affected an ascetical simplicity of dress, and ye
hugged their purses where their Bibles should have been. I
was all Mammon worship ; some grossly palpable, some adroitl;
cloaked under solemn faces and severe observance of the out
ward ceremonials. The clergy, as a class, I found strangel;
unlike what I had expected : instead of earnest zeal for th
promotion of Christianity, I saw that the majority were ben
only on the aggrandizement of their particular denomination
Verily, I thought in my heart, 'Is all this bickering the resul
of their religion ? How these churches do hate each other !
According to each, salvation could only be found in their specia
tenets within the pale of their peculiar organization ; and yet
all professed to draw their doctrines from the same book : and
Beulah, the end of my search was, that I scorned all creeds am
churches, and began to find a faith outside of a revelatioi
which gave rise to so much narrow-minded bigotry so mucl
pharisaism and delusion. Those who call themselves minister
of the Christian religion should look well to their commissions
and beware how they go out into the world, unless the seal oi
Jesus be indeed upon their brows. They offer themselves us th
Pharos of the people, but, ah ! they sometimes wreck rnmorta
souls by their unpardonable inconsistencies. For the iust tw<
years, I have be>n groping my way after some system upoi
which I could rest the little time I have to live. Oh, I ac
heart-sick and despairing I"
" What ? already ! Take courage, Cornelia ; there is trutl
somewhere," answered Beulah, with kindling eyes.
" Where, where ? Ah ! that echo mocks you, turn which wa;
r, K u L A H . 285
you will. 1 sit like Raphael- Aben-Ezra at the * Bottom of
the Abyss," but unlike him, I am no Democritus to jest over my
position. I am too miserable to laugh, and my grim Emersonian
fatalism gives me precious little comfort, though it is about the
only thing that I do firmly believe in."
She stooped to pick up her necklace,~shook it in the glow of
the fire until a shower of rainbow hues flashed out, and holding
it up, asked contemptuously :
" What do you suppose this piece of extravagance cost ?"
" I have no idea."
" Why, fifteen hundred dollars that is all ! Oh, what is
the blaze of diamonds to a soul like mine, shrouded in despair-
ing darkness, and hovering upon the very confines of eternity, if
there be any I" She threw the costly gift on the table, and
wearily closed her eyes.
" You have become discouraged too soon, Cornelia. Your
very anxiety to discover truth evinces its existence, for Nature
always supplies the wants she creates 1"
" You will tell me that this truth is to be found down in the
depths of my own soul ; for no more than logic, has it ever been
discovered ' parcelled and labelled.' But how do I -know that all
truth is not merely subjective ? Ages ago, skepticism intrenched
itself in an impregnable fortress : ' There is no criterion of
truth.' How do I know that my ' true,' ' good,' and ' beautiful '
are absolutely so ? My reason is no infallible plummet to sound
the sea of phenomena and touch noumena. I tell you, Beulah,
it is all "
A hasty rap at the door cut short this discussion, and as Eu-
gene entered, the cloud on Cornelia's brow instantly lifted. His
gay Christmas greeting, and sunny, handsome face, diverted her
mind, and as her hand rested on his arm, her countenance evinced
a degree of intense love, such as Beulah had supposed her inca-
pable of feeling.
"It is very selfish, sister mine, to keep Beulah so constantly
beside you, when we all want to see something of her."
286 BEULAH.
" Was I ever anything else but selfish ?"
" But I thought you prided yourself on requiring no society ?"
"So I do, as regards society in general ; but Beulah is an ex-
ception."
" You intend to come down to-night, do you not ?"
" Not if I can avoid it. Eugene, take Beulah into the parlor,
and ask Antoinette to sing. Afterward make Beulah sing, also,
and be sure to leave all the doors open, so that I can hear.
Mind, you must not detain her long."
Beulah would have demurred, but at this moment she saw Dr.
Hartwell's buggy approaching the house. Her heart seemed to
spring to her lips, and feeling that after their last unsatisfactory
interview, she was in no mood to meet him, she quickly descended
the steps, so blinded by haste that she failed to perceive the
hand Eugene extended to assist her. The door-bell uttered a
sharp peal as they reached the hall, and she had just time to
escape into the parlor, when the doctor was ushered in.
" What is the matter ?" asked Eugene, observing the nervous
flutter of her lips.
" Ask Miss Dupres to sing, will you ?"
He looked at her curiously an instant, then turned away and
persuaded the little beauty to sing.
She took her seat, and ran her jewelled fingers over the pearl
keys with an air which very clearly denoted her opinion of her
musical proficiency.
" Well, sir, what will you have ?"
" That favorite morceau from ' Linda. 1 "
" You have never heard it, I suppose," said she, glancing over
her shoulder at the young teacher.
" Yes, I have heard it," answered Beulah, who could with dif-
ficulty repress a smile.
Antoinette half shrugged her shoulders, as if she thought the
statement questionable, and began the song. Beulah listened
attentively ; she was conscious of feeling more than ordinary
interest in this performance, and almost held her breath as the
B E U L A H . 287
clear, silvery voice carolled through the most intricate passages.
Antoinette had been thoroughly trained, and certainly her voice
was remarkably sweet and flexible ; but as she concluded the
piece, and fixed her eyes complacently on Beulah, the latter lifted
her head, in proud consciousness of superiority.
" Sing me something else," said she.
Antoinette bit her lips, and answered ungraciously :
"No; I shall have to sing to-night, and can't wear myself out."
" Now, Beulah, I shall hear you. I have sought an opportu-
nity ever since I returned." Eugene spoke rather carelessly.
" Do you really wish to hear me, Eugene ?"
" Of course I do," said he, with some surprise.
"And so do I," added Mrs. Graham, leaning against the piano,
and exchanging glances with Antoinette.
Beulah looked up, and asked quietly :
" Eugene, shall I sing you a ballad ? One of those simple
old tunes we used to love so well in days gone by."
"No, no. Something operatic," cried Antoinette, without
giving him an opportunity to reply.
" Well, then, Miss Dupres, select something."
" Can't you favor us with ' Casta-Diva ?' " returned the beauty,
with something very like a sneer.
Beulah's eyes gave a momentary flash, but by a powerful effort
she curbed her anger, and commenced the song.
It was amusing to mark the expression of utter astonishment
which gradually overspread Antoinette's face, as the magnificent
voice of her despised rival swelled in waves of entrancing melody
through the lofty rooms. Eugene looked quite as much amazed.
Beulah felt her triumph, and heartily enjoyed it. There was a
sparkle in her eye, and a proud smile on her lip, which she
did not attempt to conceal. As she rose from the piano, Eugene
caught her hand, and said eagerly :
" I never dreamed of your possessing such a voice. It is
superb perfectly magnificent ! Why did not you tell me of it
before ?"
288 BEULAH.
" You heard it long ago, in the olden time," said she, with-
drawing her hand and looking steadily at him.
" Ah, but it has improved incredibly. You were all untutored
then."
" It is the culture, then, not the voice itself? Eh, Eugene ?"
" It is both. Who taught you ?"
11 1 had several teachers, but owe what excellence I may pos-
sess to my guardian. He aided me more than all the instruction-
books that ever were compiled."
" You must come and practise with the musical people who
meet here very frequently," said Mrs. Graham.
" Thank you, madam ; I have other engagements which will
prevent my doing so."
" Nonsense, Beulah, we have claims on you. I certainly
have," answered Eugene.
" Have you ? I was not aware of the fact."
There was a patronizing manner in all this which she felt nc
disposition to submit to.
" Most assuredly I have, Beulah, and mean to maintain them.'
She perfectly understood the haughty expression of his coun
teuance, and, moving toward the door, replied coldly:
" Another time, Eugene, we will discuss them."
" Where are you going ?" inquired Mrs. Graham, rather stiffly
"To Cornelia. The doctor came down a few minutes since,"
She did not pause to hear what followed, but ran up the steps,
longing to get out of a house where she plainly perceived hei
presence was by no means desired. Cornelia sat with her heac
drooped on her thin hand, and without looking up, said, more
gently than was her custom : v
" Why did you hurry back so soon ?"
"Because the parlor was not particularly attractive." .
There came the first good-humored laugh which Beulah hac
ever heard from Cornelia's lips, as the latter replied :
" What friends you and old growling Diogenes would hav(
been. Pray, how did my cousin receive your performance 1"
B EULAH. 289
" Very much as if she wished rue amid the ruins of Persepolis,
where I certainly shall be before I inflict anything more upon
IKT. Cornelia, do not ask or expect ine to come here again, for
I will not of course, it is quite as palpable to you as to me that I
am no favorite with your parents, and something still less with your
cousin. Consequently, you need not expect to see me here again."
"Do not say so, Beulah; you must, you shall come, and I will
see that no one dares interfere with my wishes. As for Antoi-
nette, she is simply a vain idiot; you might just as well be told
the truth, for doubtless you will see it for yourself; she is my
mother's niece, an only child, and possessed of considerable
wealth. I suppose it is rather natural that my parents should
fondle the idea of her being Eugene's wife. They do not see
how utterly uusuited they are. Eugene will, of course, inherit
the fortune which I once imagined I should have the pleasure of
squandering. My father and mother dread lest Eugene should
return to his * boyish fancy' (as you are pleased to term it), and
look on you with jealous eyes. Oh! Mammon is the God of this
generation. But, Beulah, you must not allow all this miserable
mauceuvering to keep you from me. If you do, I will very soon
succeed in making this home of mine very unpleasant for Antoi-
nette Dupres. When I am dead, she can wheedle my family as
successfully as they choose to permit; but while I do live, she
shall forbear. Poor, contemptible human nature! verily, I
rejoice sometimes when I remember that I shall not be burdened
with any of it long." An angry spot burned on each pallid,
cheek, and the beautiful mouth curled scornfully.
" Do not excite yourself s'o unnecessarily, Cornelia. What
you may or may not think of your relatives is no concern of
mine. You have, a carriage always at your command, and when
you desire to see a real friend, you can visit me. Let this suffice
for this subject. Suppose we have a game of chess or back-
gammon ? What do you say ?"
She wheeled a lighi table toward the hearth, but the invalid
motioned it away, and answered moodily :
13
290 BEULAH.
" I am in no humor for games. Sit down and tell me aboul
your leaving- Dr. Hartwell's protection."
" I have nothing to tell,"
"He is a singular being ?"
Receiving no answer, she added impatiently :
"Don't you think so?"
" I do, in the sense of great superiority."
" The world is not so flattering in its estimate."
" No, for slander loves a lofty mark."
" Beulah Benton, do you mean that for me ?"
" Not unless you feel that it applies to you particularly."
"If he is so faultless and unequalled, pray, why did not yoi
remain in his house ?"
" I am not in the habit of accounting to any one for mi
motives or my actions." She lifted her slender form haughtily
" In which case, the public has a habit of supplying both."
" Then accept its fabrications."
" You need not be so fierce. I like Dr. Hartwell quite as we!
as you do, I dare say; but probably I know more of his history:
" It is all immaterial to me. Drop the subject, if you pleo.se
and let me read to you. I believe I came here for quiet com
panionship, not recrimination and cross-questioning."
"Beulah, the world says you are to marry your guardian,
do not ask from impertinent curiosity, but sincere friendship i
it true ?"
"About as true as your notion of my marriage 'with EugeiH
No; scarcely so plausible."
" Our families were connected, you know."
" No, I neither know, nor wish to know. He never alludei
to his wife, or his history, and I have just now no desire to hea
anything about the matter. He is the best friend I ever had;
want to honor and reverence him always; and, of course, th
world's version of his domestic affairs does him injustice. So b
good enough to say no more about him."
" Very well. On hearing your voice from the parlor, he lei
BEULAH. 291
a small parcel, which he requested me to give you. He laid it
on the table, I believe; yes, there it is. Now read 'Egrnont'
to me, if you please."
Cornelia crossed the room, threw herself on a couch, and set-
tled her pillow comfortably. Beulah took the parcel, which was
carefully sealed, and wondered what it contained. It was heavy,
and felt hard. They had parted in anger; what could it possi-
bly be ? Cornelia's black eyes were on her countenance. She
put the package in her pocket, seated herself by the couch, and
commenced " Egmont."
It was with a feeling of indescribable relief that the orphan
awoke, at dawn the following morning, and dressed by the grey
twilight. She had fallen asleep the night before amid the hum
of voices, of laughter, and of dancing feet. Sounds of gaiety,
from the merry party below, had found their way to the cham-
ber of the heiress, and when Beulah left her at midnight, she
was still wakeful and restless. The young teacher could not
wait for the late breakfast of the luxurious Grahams, and just
as the first level ray of sunshine flashed up from the east, she
tied on her bonnet, and noiselessly entered Cornelia's room.
The heavy curtains kept it close and dark, and on the hearth a
taper burned with pale, sickly light. Cornelia slept soundly;
but her breathing was heavy and irregular, and the face wore a
scowl, as if some severe pain had distorted it. The ivory-like
arms were thrown up over the head, and large drops glistened
on the wan brow. Beulah stood beside the bed a few minutes;
the apartment was furnished with almost oriental splendor; but
how all this satin, and rosewood, and silver, and marble, mocked
the restless, suffering sleeper ? Beulah felt tears of compassion
weighing down her lashes, as she watched the haggard counte-
nance of this petted child of fortune; but unwilling to rouse her,
she silently stole down the steps. The hall was dark; the smell
of gas almost stifling. Of course, the servants followed the
example of their owners, and as no one appeared, she unlocked
the street door, and walked homeward with a sensation of plea-
292 BEULAH.
surable relief, which impressed itself very legibly on her face.
The sky was cloudless ; the early risen sun looked over the earth
in dazzling radiance ; and the cold, pure, wintry air, made the
blood tingle in Beulah's veins. A great, unspeakable joy filled
her soul j the uplifted eyes beamed with gladness ; her brave,
hopeful spirit, looked into the future with unquestioning trust;
and as the image of her unhappy friend flitted across her mind,
she exclaimed :
" This world is full of beauty, like other worlds above ;
And if we did our duty, it might be full of love."
She ran up to her room, threw open the blinds, looped back
the curtains, and drew that mysterious package from her pocket.
She was very curious to see the contents, and broke the seal
with trembling fingers. The outer wrappings fell off, and dis-
closed an oblong, papier-mache case. It opened with a spring,
and revealed to her a beautiful watch and chain, bearing her
name in delicate tracery. A folded slip of paper lay on the
crimson velvet lining of the box, and recognizing the characters,
she hastily read this brief sentence :
" Wear it constantly, Beulah, to remind you that, in adversity, you still
have
" A GUARDIAN."
Tears gushed unrestrained, as she looked at the beautiful gift.
Not for an instant did she dream of accepting it, and she shrank
shudderingly from widening the breach which already existed, by
a refusal. Locking up the slip of paper in her workbox, she
returned the watch to its case, and carefully retied the parcel.
Long before, she had wrapped the purse in paper, and prevailed
on Clara to give it to the doctor. He had received it without
comment, but she could not return the watch in the same way,
for Clara was now able to attend regularly to her school duties,
and it was very uncertain when she would see him. Yet she felt
comforted, for this gift assured her, that however coldly he chose
BETJLAH. 293
to treat her when they met, he had not thrown her off entirely.
With all her independence, she could not bear the thought of his
utter alienation ; and the consciousness of his remaining interest
thrilled her heart with gladness.
CHAPTER XXIII.
ONE Saturday morning, some days subsequent to her visit to
the Grahams, Benlah set off for the business part of the city.
She was closely veiled, and carried under her shawl a thick roll
of neatly written paper. A publishing house was the place of
her destination; and as she was ushered into a small back room,
to await the leisure of the gentleman she wished to see, she could
not forbear smiling at the novelty of her position, and the auda-
city of the attempt she was about to make. There she sat, in
the editor's sanctum, trying to quiet the tumultuous beating of her
heart. Presently, a tall, spare man, with thin, cadaverous visage,
entered, bowed, took a chair, and eyed her with a " wbat-do-you-
want" sort of expression. His grizzled hair was cut short, and
stood up like bristles, and his keen blue eyes were by no means
promising, in their cold glitter. Beulah threw off her veil, and
said, with rather an unsteady voice :
" You are the editor of the magazine published here, I be-
lieve ?"
He bowed again, leaned back in his chair, and crossed his
hands at the back of his head.
" I came to offer you an article for the magazine." She threw
down the roll of paper on a chair.
" Ah ! hem I will you favor me with your name ?"
" Beulah Benton, sir. One altogether unknown to fame."
He contracted his eyes, coughed, and said, constrainedly :
294 BEULAH.
' A.re you a subscriber ?"
"I am.
" What is the character of your manuscript ?" He took it up
as he spoke, and glanced over the pages.
" You can determine that from a perusal. If the sketch suits
you, I should like to become a regular contributor."
A gleam of sunshine strayed over the countenance, and the
editor answered, very benignly :
" If the article meets with our approbation, we shall be very
happy to afford you a medium of publication in our journal. Can
we depend on your punctuality ?"
" I think so. What are your terms ?"
" Terms, madam ? I supposed that your contribution was
gratuitous," said he, very loftily.
" Then you are most egregiously mistaken ! What do you
imagine induces me to write ?"
" Why, desire for fame, I suppose. n
" Fame is rather unsatisfactory fare. I am poor, sir, and
write to aid me in maintaining myself."
" Are you dependent solely on your own exertions, madam ?"
" Yes."
"I am sorry I cannot aid you ; but now-a-days, there are
plenty of authors, who write merely as a pastime, and we have
as many contributions as we can well look over."
" I am to understand, then, that the magazine is supported
altogether by gratuitous contributions ?" said Beulah, unable to
repress a smile.
" Why, you see, authorship has become a sort of luxury," was
the hesitating reply.
" I think the last number of your magazine contained, among
other articles in the 'editor's drawer,' an earnest appeal to
southern authors to come to the rescue of southern periodicals ?"
" True, madam : southern intellect seems steeped in a lethargy,
from which we are most faithfully endeavoring to arouse it."
" The article to which I allude, also animadverted severely
BETJLAH. 295
upon the practice of southern authors patronizing northern pub-
lishing establishments ?"
" Most certainly, it treated the subject stringently." He
moved uneasily.
" I believe the subscription is the same as that of the northern
periodicals ?"
A vejy cold bow was the only answer.
" I happen to know that northern magazines are not composed
of gratuitous contributions ; and it is no mystery why southern
authors are driven to northern publishers. Southern periodicals
are mediums only for those of elegant leisure, who can afford to
write without remuneration. With the same subscription price,
you cannot pay for your articles. It is no marvel that, under
such circumstances, we have no southern literature. Unluckily,
I belong to the numerous class who have to look away from
home for remuneration. Sir, I will not trouble you with my
manuscript." Rising, she held out her hand for it ; but the keen
eyes had fallen upon a paragraph which seemed to interest the
editor, and knitting his brows, he said, reluctantly :
" We have not been in the habit of paying for our articles,
but I will look over this, and perhaps you can make it worth our
while to pay you. The fact is, madam, we have more trash sent
us than we can find room for ; but if you can contribute anything
of weight, why, it will make a difference of course. I did not
recognize you at first, but I now remember that I heard your
valedictory to the graduating class of the public schools. If we
should conclude to pay you for regular contributions, we wish
nothing said about it."
" Very well. If you like the manuscript, and decide to pay
me, you can address me a note through the post-office. Should
I write for the magazine, I particularly desire not to be known."
She lowered her veil, and most politely he bowed her out. She
was accustomed to spend a portion of each Saturday in prac-
tising duets with Georgia Asbury, and thither she now directed
her steps. Unluckily, the parlor was full of visitors, and with-
296 BEULAH.
out seeing any of the family, she walked back into the music
room. Here she felt perfectly at home, and closing the door,
forgot everything but her music. Taking no heed of the lapse
of time, she played piece after piece, until startled by the clear
tones of the doctor's voice. She looked up, and saw him stand-
ing in the door which opened into the library, taking off his
great-coat.
" Why, Beulah, that room is as cold as a Texas norther.
What on earth are yon doing there without a fire ? Come in
here, child, and warm your frozen digits. Where are those two
harum-scarum specimens of mine ?"
" I believe they are still entertaining company, sir. The
parlor was full when I came, and they know nothing of my being
here." She sat down by the bright fire, and held her stiff fingers
toward the glowing coals.
" Yes, confound their dear rattlepates ; that is about the
sum-total of their cogitations." He drew up his chair, put his
feet on the fender of the grate, and lighting his cigar, added :
" Is my spouse also in the parlor ?"
" I suppose so, sir."
" Time was, Beulah, when Saturday was the great day of
preparation for all housekeepers. Bless my soul ! My mother
would just about as soon have thought of anticipating the dis-
covery of the open Polar Sea, by a trip thither, as going out to
visit on Saturday. Why, from my boyhood, Saturday has been
synonymous with scouring, window-washing, pastry-baking,
stocking-darning, and numerous other venerable customs, which
this age is rapidly dispensing with. My wife had a lingering
reverence for the duties of the day, and tried to excuse herself,
hut I suppose those pretty wax dolls of mine have coaxed her
into ' receiving,' as they call it. Beulah, my wife is an excep-
tion, but the mass of married women, now-a-day, instead of being
thorough housewives (as nature intended they should), are deli-
cate, do-nothing, know-nothing, fine ladies. They have no
duties. ' tempora, mores !' " He paused to relight his
BEULAH. 297
cigar, and just then Georgia came in, dressed very richly. He
tossed the taper into the grate, and exclaimed, as she threw her
arms round his neck and kissed him :
" You pretty imp ; what is to pay now ? Here, Beulah has
been sitting, nobody knows how long, in that frigid zone you
call your music-room. What are you rigged out in all that
finery for ?"
" We are going to dine out to-day, father. Beulah will excuse
me, I know."
" Indeed 1 Dine where ?"
" Mrs. Delmout came round this morning to invite us to dine
with some, of her young friends from New Orleans."
" Well, I shan't go, that is all."
" Oh, you are not expected, sir," laughed Georgia, brushing
the grey locks from his ample forehead.
" Not expected, eh ? Does your lady mother contemplate
leaving me to discuss my dinner in doleful solitude ?"
" No, mother has gone with Mrs. Rallston to see about some
poor, starving family in the suburbs. She will be back soon, I
dare say. Mrs. Delmont has sent her carriage, and Helen is
waiting for me ; so I must go. Beulah, I am very sorry, we
have been cut out of our practising. Don't go home ; stay
with mother to-day, and when I come back we will have a
glorious time. Can't you now ? There's a darling."
" Oh, you wheedling, hypocritical madcap, take yourself off !
Of course Beulah will try to endure the stupid talk of a poor
old man, whose daughters are too fashionable to look after him,
and wnose wife is so extremely charitable that she forgets it
' begins at home.' Clear out, you trial of paternal patience 1"
He kissed her rosy lips, and she hurried away, protesting that
she would much prefer remaining at home.
" Beulah, I gave Hartwell that parcel you intrusted to me.
He looked just as if I had plunged him into a snow-bank, but
said nothing."
" Thank you, sir."
13*
298 BEULAH.
" Oh, don't thank me for playing go-between. I don't relish
any such work. It is very evident that you two have quarrelled.
I would about as soon consult that poker, as ask Hartwell what
is to pay. Now, child, what is the matter ?"
" Nothing new, sir. He has never forgiven me for turning
teacher."
" Forgiven ! Bless me, he is as spiteful as a Pequod."
" Begging your pardon, Dr. Asbury, he is no such thing,"
cried Beulah, impetuously.
"Just what I might have expected. I am to understand,
then, that you can abuse my partner sufficiently without any
vituperative assistance from me ?" He brushed the ashes from
his cigar, and looked at her quizzically.
" Sir, it pains me to hear him spoken of so lightly."
" Lightly ! Upon my word I thought Indianic malice was
rather a heavy charge. However, I can succeed better, if you
will allow "
" Don't jest, sir. Please say no more about him."
His face became instantly grave, and he answered earnestly :
" Beulah, as a sincere friend, I would advise you not to
alienate Hartwell. There are very few such men ; I do not know
his equal. He is interested in your welfare and happiness, and
is the best friend you ever had or ever will have."
" I know it, and prize his friendship above all others."
" Then, why did you return that watch ? If he wished you
to wear it, why should you refuse ? Mark me, he said nothing
about it to me, but I saw the watch, with your name engraved
on the case, at the jewelry store where I bought one just like it
for Georgia. I surmised it was that same watch, when you
intrusted the package to me."
" I was already greatly indebted to him, and did not wish to
increase the obligation."
" My child, under the circumstances, you were too fastidious.
He was very much annoyed ; though, as I told you before, he
made no allusion to the subject."
BETJLAH. 299
" Yes ; I knew lie would be, and I am very sorry, but could
not think of accepting it."
" Oh, you are well matched, upon my word."
" What do you mean ?"
" That you are both as proud as Lucifer, and as savage as
heathens. Child, I don't see what is to become of you."
" Every soul is the star of its own destiny," answered
Beulah.
" Well, very sorry destinies the majority make, I can tell you.
Have you seen Mrs. Lockhart and Pauline ?"
" No. I was not aware that they were in the city."
" Lockhart's health is miserable. They are all at HartwelFs
for a few weeks, I believe. Pauline has grown up a perfect Di
Vernon beauty."
" I should like very much to see her. She is a generous,
noble-souled girl."
" Yes, I rather think she is. Hart well said the other day,
that Pauline was anxious to see you ; and since I think of it, I
believe he asked me to tell you of her arrival. Now, I will
wager my head that you intend to wait until she calls formally,
which it is your place to do."
" Then, sir, expect immediate decapitation, for I shall go out
to see her this very afternoon," replied Beulah.
" That is right, my dear child."
" Dr. Asbury, if you will not think me troublesome, I should
like to tell you of some things that perplex me very much," said
she, hesitatingly.
" I shall be glad to hear whatever you have to say, and if I
can possibly help you, rest assured I will. What perplexes you ?"
" A great many things, sir. Of late, I have read several
works that have unsettled my former faith, and indeed confused
and darkened my mind most miserably, and I thought you might
aid me in my search after truth."
He threw his cigar into the fire, and while an expression of
sorrow clouded his face, said, very gravely :
300 BEULAH.
" Beulah, I am afraid I am one of the last persons to whom
you should apply for assistance. Do the perplexities to which
you allude involve religious questions ?"
" Yes, sir, almost entirely."
" I am too unsettled myself to presume to direct others."
Beulah looked up, in unfeigned astonishment.
" You certainly are not what is termed skeptical ?"
" Most sincerely do I wish that I was not."
There was a short silence, broken by Beulah's saying, slowly
and sorrowfully :
" You cannot aid me, then !"
" I am afraid not. When a young man, I was thoroughly
skeptical in my religious views (if I may be said to have had
any). At the time of my marriage I was an infidel, and such
the world still calls me. If I am not now, it is because my wife's
unpretending consistent piety has taught me to revere the pre-
cepts of a revelation which I long ago rejected. Her pure reli-
gion makes me respect Christianity, which once I sneered at. I
am forced to acknowledge, the happy results of her faith, and I
may yet be brought to yield up old prejudices and confess its
divine origin. I am no Atheist, thank God ! never have been.
But I tell you candidly, my doubts concerning the Bible make
me an unsafe guide for a mind like yours. For some time, I
have marked the course of your reading, by the books I missed
from my shelves, and have feared just what has happened. On
one point my experience may be of value to you. What is com-
prised under the head of philosophical research will never aid or
satisfy you. I am an old man, Beulah, and have studied philoso-
phic works for many years ; but, take my word for it, the mass
of them are sheer humbug. From the beginning of the world,
philosophers have been investigating the countless mysteries
which present themselves to every earnest mind ; 'but the arcana
are as inscrutable now as ever.. I do not wish to discourage you,
Beulah ; nor do I desire to underrate human capabilities ; but,
in all candor, this kind of study does not pay. It has not repaid
B E TJ L A H . 301
me it has not satisfied Hartwell, who went deeper into meta-
physics than any one I know, and who now has less belief of any
sort than any one I ever wish to know. I would not advise you
to prosecute this branch of study. I am content to acknow-
ledge that of many things I know nothing, and never can be any
wiser ; but Guy Hartwell is too proud to admit his incapacity to
grapple with some of these mysteries. Beulah, my wife is one
of the happiest spirits I ever knew : she is a consistent Christian.
When we were married, I watched her very closely ; I tell you,
child, I hoped very much that I should find some glaring incon-
gruity in her conduct which would have sanctioned my skep-
ticism. I was continually on the lookout for defects of character
that might cast contempt on the religion she professed. I did
not expect her to prove so pure-hearted, unselfish, humble, and
genuinely pious as I found her. I do most sincerely revere such
religion as hers. Ah ! if it were not so rare, I should never
have been so skeptical. She has taught me that the precepts of
the Bible do regulate the heart and purify the life ; and to you,
child, I will say, candidly, 'almost she has persuaded me to be a
Christian.' Whatever of "
He said no more, for at this moment the door opened, and
Mrs. Asbury entered. She welcomed Beulah with a cordial sin-
cerity, singularly soothing to the orphan's heart, and keeping
her hand in a tight clasp, asked several questions, which her
husband cut short by drawing her to his side.
" Where have you been straying to, madam ?"
" Where you must stray to, sir, just as soon as you start out
this evening on your round of visits."
She softly smoothed back his hair and kissed his forehead.
She was a noble-looking woman, with a tranquil countenance
that betokened a serene, cloudless soul ; and as she stood beside
her husband, his eyes rested on her face with an expression bor-
dering on adoration. Beulah could not avoid wondering why
such women were so very rare, and the thought presented itself
with painful force, " if Cornelia Graham and I had had such
302 B E U L A H .
mothers, we might both have been happier and better." Pro-
bably something of what crossed her mind crept into her
countenance, for the doctor asked, laughingly :
" In the name of Venus ! what are you screwing up your lips,
and looking so ugly about ?"
" I suppose one reason is, that I must go home." She rose,
with a suppressed sigh.
" I am disposed to think it much more probable that you were
envying me my wife. Come, confess."
" I was wishing that I had such a mother."
With some sudden impulse she threw her arms round Mrs.
Asbury's neck, and hid her face on her shoulder.
" Then let me be your mother, my dear child," said she, press-
ing the girl affectionately to her heart, and kissing her pale
cheek.
" Are you troubled about anything, my dear ?" continued Mrs.
Asbury, surprised at this manifestation of feeling in one usually
so cold and reserved.
" An orphan heart mourns its dead idols," answered Beulah,
raising her head, and withdrawing from the kind arm that encir-
cled her. Mrs. Asbury interpreted a quick glance from her hus-
band, and did not press the matter further ; but at parting, she
accompanied Beulah to the front door, and earnestly assured
her that if she could in any way advise or assist her she would
consider it both a privilege and a pleasure to do so. Keturning
to the library, she laid her soft hand on her husband's arm, and
said anxiously :
" George, what is the matter with her ?"
" She is distressed, or rather perplexed about her religious
doubts, I inferred from what she said just before you came in.
She has drifted out into a troubled sea of philosophy, I am
inclined to think, and not satisfied with what she has found, is
now irresolute as to the proper course. Poor child, she is ter-
ribly in earnest about the matter." He sighed heavily.
His wife watched him eagerly.
B E U L A H . 303
" What did you toll her ?"
" Not to come to me ; that it would be a perfect exemplifica-
tion of ' the blind leading the blind ; 7 and when she learned my
own state of uncertainty, she seemed to think so herself."
An expression of acnt<j pain passed over her features, but
banishing it as speedily as possible, she answered very gently :
" Take care, my husband, lest by recapitulating your doubts,
you strengthen hers."
" Alice, I told her the whole truth. She is not a nature to be
put off with half-way statements. Hartwell is an avowed infidel,
and she knows it ; yet I do not believe his views have weighed
with her against received systems of faith. My dear Alice, this
spirit of skepticism is scattered far and wide over the land ; I
meet with it often where I least expect it. It broods like a
hideous nightmare over this age, and Beulah must pass through
the same ordeal which is testing the intellectual portion of every
community. But there is that eternal door-bell. Let us have
dinner, Alice, I must go out early this afternoon."
He took down a pair of scales, and began to weigh some
medicine. His wife wisely forbore to renew the discussion, and
ringing the bell for dinner, interested him with an account of
her visit to a poor family, who required his immediate attention.
With a heart unwoutedly heavy, Beulah prepared to call upon
Pauline, later in the afternoon of the same day. It was not com-
panionship she needed, for this was supplied by books, and the
sensation of loneliness was one with which she had not yet been
made acquainted ; but she wanted a strong, healthy, cultivated
intellect, to dash away the mists that were wreathing about her
own mind. Already, the lofty, imposing structure of self-reliance
began to rock to its very foundations. She was nearly ready for
her walk, when Mrs. Hoyt came in.
" Miss Beulah, there is a lady in the parlor waiting to see
you"
"Is it Miss Graham?"
" No. She is a stranger, and gave no name."
304: B E U L A H .
Beulah descended to the parlor in rather an ungracious mood.
As she entered, a lady sprang to meet her, with both hands ex-
tended. She was superbly beautiful, with a complexion of
dazzling whiteness, and clear, radiant, violet eyes, over which
arched delicately pencilled brows. The Grecian mouth and chin
were faultlessly chiselled; the whole face was one of rare love-
liness.
" You don't know me ! For shame, Beulah, to forget old
friends."
" Oh, Pauline, is it you ? I am very glad to see you."
"Don't say that for politeness' sake! Here I have been for
ten days and you have not stirred a foot to see me."
" I didn't know you were in town till this morning, and just
as you came I was putting on my bonnet to go and see you."
"Are you telling the truth ?"
11 Yes ; positively I am."
" Well, I am glad you felt disposed to see me. After my
uncle, you and Charon are all I cared anything about meeting
here. Bless your dear, solemn, grey eyes ! how often I have
wanted to see you."
The impulsive girl threw her arms round Beulah's neck, and
kissed her repeatedly.
" Be quiet, and let me look at you. Oh, Pauline, how beauti-
ful you have grown I" cried Beulah, who could not forbear ex-
pressing the admiration she felt.
"Yes ; the artists in Florence raved considerably about my
beauty. I can't tell you the number of times I sat for my por-
trait. It is very pleasant to be pretty ; I enjoy it amazingly,"
iSaid she, with all the candor which had characterized her in
childhood ; and with a vigorous squeeze of Beulah's hand, she
continued :
" I was astonished when I came, and found that you had left
Uncle Guy, and were teaching little ragged, dirty children their
A, B, Cs. What possessed you to-xlo such a silly thing ?"
" Duty, my dear Pauline."
BE TIL AH. 305
. " Oh, for heaven's sake, don't begin about duty. Ernest " -
She paused, a rich glow swept over her face, and shaking back
her curls, she added :
" You must quit all this. I say you must 1"
" I see you are quite as reckless and scatter-brained as ever,"
answered Beulah, smiling at her authoritative tone.
" No, I positively am not the fool Uncle Guy used to think me.
I have more sense than people give me credit for, though I dare
say I shall find you very skeptical ou the subject. Beulah, I
know very well why you took it into your wise head to be a
teacher. You were unwilling to usurp what you considered my
place in Uncle Guy's home and heart. You need not straighten
yourself in that ungraceful way. I know perfectly well it is the
truth ; but I am no poor, suffering, needy innocent, that you
should look after. I am well provided for, and don't intend to
take one cent of Uncle Guy's money, so you might just as well
have the benefit of it. I know, too, that you and ma did not
exactly adore each other. I understand all about that old skir-
mishing. But things have changed very much, Beulah ; so you
must quit this horrid nonsense about working, and being inde-
pendent."
" How you do rattle on, about things you don't comprehend,"
laughed Beulah.
" Come, don't set me down for a simpleton ! I tell you I am
in earnest 1 You must come back to Uncle Guy !"
" Pauline, it is worse than useless to talk of this matter. I
decided long ago as to what I ought to do, and certainly shall
not change my opinion now. Tell me what you saw in Europe."
" Why, has not Eugene told you all you wish to know ?
Apropos ! I saw him at a party last night, playing the devoted
to that little beauty, Netta Dupres. We were all in Paris at
the .sime time. I don't 4flcy her ; she is too insufferably vain
and affected. It is my opiuJgn that she is flirting with Eugene,
which must be quite agreflRe to you. Oh, I tell you, Beulah,
I could easily put her mind, heart and soul, in my thimble 1"
306 BE TIL A II.
" I did not ask your estimate of Miss Dupres. I want to know
something of your European tour. I see Eugene very rarely."
" Oh ! of course we went to see all the sights, and very stupid
it was. Mr. Lockhart scolded continually about my want of
taste and appreciation, because I did not utter all the interjec-
tions of delight and astonishment over old, tumble-down ruins,
and genuine ' master-pieces ' of art, as he called them. Upon my
word, I have been tired almost to death, when he and ma
descanted by the hour, on the ' inimitable, and transcendent, and
entrancing ' beauties and glories of old pictures, that were actually
so black with age, that they looked like daubs of tar, and I
could not tell whether the figures were men or women, archan-
gels or cow-drivers. Some things I did enjoy ; such as the Alps,
and the Mediterranean, and St. Peter's, and Westminster Abbey,
and some of the German cathedrals. But as to keeping my
finger on the guide-book, and committing all the ecstasy to
memory, to spout out just at the exact moment, when I saw
nothing to deserve it, why that is all fudge. I tell you there is
nothing in all Europe equal to our Niagara I I was heartily
glad to come home, though I enjoyed some things amazingly."
" How is Mr. Lockhart's health ?"
" Very poor, I am sorry to say. He looks so thin and pale, I
often tell him he would make quite as good a pictured saint as
any we saw abroad."
" How long will you remain here ?"
" Till Uncle Guy thinks Mr. Lockhart is well enough to go to
his plantation, I suppose."
" What makes you so restless, Pauline ? Why don't you sit
still ?" asked Beulah, observing that her visitor twisted about, as
if uncomfortable.
" Because I want to tell you something, and really do not
know how to begin," said she, laughijtf^and blushing.
" I cannot imagine what should J^^oncert you, Pauline."
" Thank you. Truly, that is aWttering tribute to my sensi-
bility. Beulah, can't you guess what I have to tell you ?"
B E U L A H . 307
" Certainly not. But why should you hesitate to disclose it ?"
" Simply because your tremendous grey eyes have such an
owlish way of looking people out of countenance. Now don't
look quite through me, and I will pluck up ray courage, and con-
fess. Beulah I am going to be married soon." She hid her
crimsoned cheeks behind her hands.
" Married ? impossible 1" cried Beulah.
"But I tell you I am 1 Here is my engagement ring. Now,
the most astonishing part of the whole affair is, that my intended
sovereign is a minister ! A preacher, as solemn as Job I"
You a minister's wife, Pauline ? Oh, child, you are jesting 1"
said Beulah, with an incredulous smile.
" No ! absurd as it may seem, it is nevertheless true. I am
to be married in March. Ma says I am a fool ; Mr. Lockhart
encourages and supports me ; and Uncle Guy laughs heartily
every time the affair is alluded to. At first, before we went to
Europe, there was violent opposition from my mother, but she
found I was in earnest, and now it is all settled for March.
Uncle Guy knows Ernest Mortimer, and esteems him very
highly, but thinks that I am the last woman in the United States
who ought to be a minister's wife. I believe he told Ernest as
much, but of course he did not believe him."
" Where does Mr. Mortimor reside ?"
"In Georgia ; has charge of a church there. He had a sister
at the hame school I attended in New York ; and during a visit
to her, he says he met his evil-angel in me. He is about five
years my senior ; but he is here now, and you will have an oppor-
tunity of forming your own opinion of him."
" How long have you known him ?"
" About two years. I am rather afraid of him, to tell you
the honest truth. He is so grave, and has such rigid notions,
that I wonder very muqjp. what ever induced his holiness to
fancy such a heedless piece ofif womanhood, as he is obliged to
know I am; for I never put on any humility or sanctity. What
do you think, Beuluh ? Uncle Guy coolly told me, this morning,
308 BE TIL AH.
in Ernest's presence, that he was only charmed by my pretty
face, and that if I did not learn some common sense, he would
very soon repent his choice. Oh, the doleful warnings I have
been favored with ! But you shall all see that I am worthy of
Mr. Mortimer's love."
Her beautiful face was radiant with hope, yet ill the violet
eyes, there lurked unshed tears.
*
" I am very glad that you are so happy, Pauline ; and if you
will, I am very sure you can make yourself all that Mr. Morti-
inor could desire."
"I am resolved I will. Yesterday he talked to me very
seriously about the duties which he said would devolve on me.
I tried to laugh him out of his sober mood, but he would talk
about 'pastoral relations/ and what would be expected of a
pastor's wife, until I was ready to cry with vexation. Ernest
is not dependent on his salary; his father is considered wealthy,
I believe, which fact reconciles ma in some degree. To-morrow
he will preach in Dr. Hew ? s church, and you must go to hear
him. I have never yet heard him preach, and am rather anxious
to know what sort of sermons I am to listen to for the remain-
der of my life." She looked at her watch, and rose.
" I shall certainly go to hear him," answered Beulaa.
" Of course you will, and after service you must go home and
spend the day with me. Ma begs that you will not refuse to
dine with her ; and as you are engaged all the week, Uncle Guy
expects you also ; that is, he told me to insist on your coming,
but thought you would probably decline. Will you come ? Do
Bay yes.'*
" I don't know yet. I will see you at church."
Thus they parted.
BEULAH. 309
CHAP-PER xxiv.
ON Sabbath morning, Beulah sat beside the window, with her
folded hands resting on her lap. The day was cloudless and
serene ; the sky of that intense melting blue which characterizes
our clime. From every quarter of the city brazen muezzins
called worshippers to the temple, and bands of neatly clad,
happy children thronged the streets, on their way to Sabbath
school. Save these, and the pealing bells, a hush pervaded all
things, as though nature were indeed " at her prayers." Blessed
be the hallowed influences which every sunny Sabbath morn.
exerts I Blessed be the holy tones, which at least once a week
call every erring child back to its Infinite Father ! For some
time Beulah had absented herself from church, for she found
that instead of profiting by sermons, she came home to criticise
and question. But early associations are strangely tenacious,
and as she watched the children trooping to the house of God,
there rushed to her mind memories of other years, when the
orphan bands from the Asylum regularly took their places in
the Sabbath school. The hymns she sang the'n rang again in
her ears ; long-forgotten passages of Scripture, repeated then,
seemed learned but yesterday. How often had the venerable
superintendent knelt and invoked special guidance for the
afflicted band from the God of orphans ? Now she felt doubly
orphaned. In her intellectual pride, she frequently asserted that
she was " the star of her own destiny ;" but this morning
childish memories prattled of the Star of Bethlehem, before
which she once bent the knee of adoration. Had it set forever,
amid clouds of superstition, sin and infidelity ? Glittering spires
pointed to the bending heavens, and answered : " It burns on
forever, ' brighter and brighter unto the perfect day !' " With
310 BEULAH.
a dull weight on her heart, she took down her Bible and opened
it indifferently at her book-mark. It proved the thirty-eighth
chapter of Job, and she read on and on, until the bells warned
her it was the hour of morning service. She walked to church,
not humbled and prepared to receive the holy teachings of revela-
tion, but with a defiant feeling in her heart, which she did not
attempt or care to analyze. She was not accustomed to attend
Dr. Hew's church, but the sexton, conducted her to a pew, and
as she seated herself, the solemn notes of the organ swelled
through the vaulted aisles. Tn6 choir sang a magnificent
anthem from Haydn's " Creation," and then only the deep, thun-
dering peal of the organ fell on the dim, cool air. Beulah could
bear no more ; as she lowered her veil, bitter tears gushed over
her troubled face. Just then, she longed to fall on her knees
before the altar and renew the vows of her childhood ; but this
impulse very soon died away, and while the pews on every side
rapidly filled, she watched impatiently for the appearance of the
minister. Immediately in front of her sat Mr. and Mrs. Graham
and Antoinette Dupres. Beulah was pondering the absence of
Cornelia and Eugene, when a full, manly voice fell on her ear,
and looking up, she saw Mr. Mortimor standing in the pulpit.
He looked older than Pauline's description had prepared her to
expect, and the first impression was one of disappointment. But
the longer she watched the grave, quiet face, the more attrac-
tive it became. Certainly he was a handsome man, and, judging
from the contour of head and features, an intellectual one.
There was an absolute repose in the countenance, which might
have passed with casual observers for inertia, indifference; but
to the practised physiognomist, it expressed the perfect peace
of a mind and heart, completely harmonious. The voice was
remarkably clear and well modulated. His text was selected
from the first and last chapters of Ecclesiastes, and consisted
of these verses :
" For in much wisdom is much grief ; and he that increaseth
knowledge, increaseth sorrow."
BETJLAH. 311
"And farther, by these, my son, be admonished; of making
many books there is no end, and much study is a weariness of
the flesh. Let us hear the conclusion of the whole matter.
Fear God, and keep his commandments, for this is the whole
duty of man."
To the discourse which followed, Beulah listened with the
deepest interest. She followed the speaker over the desert of
ancient oriental systems, which he rapidly analyzed, and held up
as empty shells; lifting the veil of soufism, he glanced at the
mystical creed of Algazzali; and in an epitomized account of the
Grecian schools of philosophy, depicted the wild vagaries into
which many had wandered, mrfrVih unsatisfactory results to
which all had attained. Not content with these instances of the
insufficiency and mocking nature of human wisdom and learning,
he adverted to the destructive tendency of the Helvetian and
D'Holbach system, and after a brief discussion of their ruinous
tenets, dilated, with some erudition, upon the conflicting and
dangerous theories propounded by Germany. Then came the
contemplation of Christianity, from its rise among the fishermen
of Galilee to its present summit of power. For eighteen hun-
dred years it had been assaulted by infidelity, yet each century
saw it advancing a conquering colossus. Throughout the ser-
mon, the idea was maintained that human reason was utterly
inadequate to discover to man his destiny, that human learning
was a great cheat, and that only from the pages of Holy Writ
could genuine wisdom be acquired. Men were to be as little
children in order to be taughl4^^truths of immortality. Cer-
tainly, the reasoning was clear and forcible, the philosophic
allusions seemed very apropos, and the language was elegant
and impassioned. The closing hymn was sung ; the organ
hushed its worshipping tones; the benediction was pronounced;
the congregation dispersed.
As Beulah descended the steps, she found Pauline and Mrs.
Lockhart waiting at the carriage for her. The latter greeted
her with quite a show of cordiality ; but the orphan shrank back
312 BEULAH.
from the offered kiss, aud merely touched the extended hand.
She had not forgotten the taunts aud unkindness of other days;
and though not vindictive, she could not feign oblivion of the
past, nor assume a friendly manner foreign to her. She took
her seat in the carriage, and found it rather difficult to with-
draw her fascinated eyes from Pauline's lovely face. She knew
what was expected of her, however; and said, as they drove
rapidly homeward:
"Mr. Mortimer seems to be a man of more than ordinary
erudition."
" Did you like his sermon ? Do you like him ?" asked Pauline,
eagerly.
"I like him very much, indeed; but do not like his sermon at
all," answered Beulah, bluntly. ?
" I am sure everybody seemed to be delighted with it," said
Mrs. Lockhart.
"Doubtless the majority of his congregation were; and I was
very much interested, though . I do not accept his views. His
delivery is remarkably imj^ssive, and his voice is better adapted
to the pulpit than any Inav'e ever listened to." She strove to
say everything favorable which, in candor, she could.
" Still you did not like his sermon ?" said Pauline, gravely.
" I cannot accept his conclusions."
" I liked the discourse particularly, Pauline. I wish Percy
could have heard it," said Mrs. Lockhart.
The daughter took .no .notice whatever of this considerate
speech, and sat quite s-till, jiq^pNlg more serious than Beulah
liad ever seen her. Conversation flagged, despite the young
teacher's efforts, and she was heartily glad when the carriage
entered the avenue. Her heart swelled as she caught sight of
the noble old cedars, whose venerable heads seemed to bow in
welcome, while the drooping branches held out their arms, as if
to embrace her. Each tree was familiar; even the bright coral
ynpou clusters were like dear friends greeting her after a long
absence. She had never realized until now how much she loved
BEFLAH. 313
this home of her early childhood, and large drops dimmed her
eyes as she passed along the walks where she had so often wan-
dered. The carriage approached the house, and she saw her
quondam guardian standing before the door. He was bare-
headed, and the sunshine fell like a halo upon his brown,
clustering hair, threading it with gold. He held, in one hand,
a small basket of grain, from which he fed a flock of hungry
pigeons. On every side they gathered about him blue and
white, brown and mottled some fluttering down from the roof
of the house; two or three, quite tame, perched on his arm, eat-
ing from the basket; and one, of uncommon beauty, sat on his
shoulder, cooing softly. By his side stood Charon, looking
gravely on, as if he, wise soul, thought this familiarity signally
impudent It was a singularly quiet, peaceful scene, which
indelibly daguerreotyped itself on Beulah's memory. As the
carriage whirled round the circle, and drew up at the door, the
startled flock wheeled off; and brushing the grain from his
hands, Dr. Hartwell advanced to assist his sister. Pauline
sprang out first, exclaiming:
" You abominable heathen ! Why didn't you come to church ?
Even Dr. Asbury was out."
" Guy, you missed an admirable sermon," chimed in Mrs.
Lockhart.
He was disengaging the fringe of Pauline's shawl, which
caught the button of his coat, and looking up as his sister spoke,
his eyes met Beulah's anxious gaze. She had wondered very
much how he would receive Ijher. His countenance expressed
neither surprise nor pleasure ; he merely held out his hand to
assist her, saying, in his usual grave manner :
" I am glad to see you, Beulah."
She looked up in his face for some trace of the old kindness,
but the rare, fascinating smile and protective tenderness had
utterly vanished. He returned her look with a calmly indifferent
glance, which pained her more than any amount of sternness
could have done. She snatched her hand from his, and, missing
14
314: BEULAH.
the carriage-step, would have fallen, but he caught and placed
her safely on the ground, saying coolly :
" Take care ; you are awkward."
She followed Pauline up the steps, wishing herself at home in
her little room. But her companion's gay chat diverted her
mind, and she only remembered how very beautiful was the face
she looked on.
They stood together before a mirror, smoothing their hair, and
Beulah could not avoid contrasting the images reflected. One
was prematurely grave and thoughtful in its expression the
other, radiant with happy hopes. Pauline surmised what was
passing in her friend's mind, and said merrily :
" For shame, Beulah ! to envy '"me my poor estate of good
looks 1 Why, I am all nose and eyes, curls, red lips and cheeks;
but you have an additional amount of brains to balance my
gifts. Once I heard Uncle Guy say that you had more intellect
than all the other women and children in the town ! Corne,
Mr. Lockhart wants to see you very much."
She ran down the steps as heedlessly as in her childhood, and
Beulah followed her more leisurely. In the study they found the
remainder of the party ; Mr. Lockhart was wrapt in a heavy
dressing-gown, and reclined on the sofa. He welcomed Beulah
very warmly, keeping her hand in his, and making her sit down
near him. He was emaciated, and a hacking cough prevented
his taking any active part in the conversation. One glance at
his sad face sufficed to show her that his days on earth were
numbered, and the expression witif 'which he regarded his wife
told all the painful tale of an unhpppy. marriage. She was dis-
cussing the sermon, and declaring herself highly gratified at the
impression which Mr. Mortimor had evidently made on his large
and fashionable congregation. Dr. Hartwell stood on the hearth,
listening in silence to his sister's remarks. The Atlantic might
have rolled between them, for any interest he evinced in the
subject. Pauline was restless and excited ; finally she crossed
the room, stood close to her uncle, and carelessly fingering his
BEULAH. 315
watch-chain, said earnestly : " Uncle Guy, what did Ernest
mean, this morning, by a ' Fourieristic-phalanx ?' "
" A land where learned men are captivated by blue eyes and
rosy lips," answered the doctor, looking down into her sparkling
face.
As they stood together, Beulah remarked how very much
Pauline resembled him. True, he was pale, and she was a very
Hebe, but the dazzling transparency of the complexion was the
same ; the silky nut-brown hair the same, and the classical chisel-
ling of mouth and nose identical. Her eyes were " deeply,
darkly," matchlessly blue, and his were hazel ; her features were
quivering with youthful joyousness and enthusiasm, his might
have been carved in ivory, they seemed so inflexible, still they
were alike. Pauline did not exactly relish the tone of his reply,
and said hastily :
" Uncle Guy, I wish you would not treat me as if I were an
idiot ; or what is not much better, a two-year old child ! How
am I ever to learn any sense ?"
" Indeed, I have no idea," said he, passing his soft hand over
her glossy curls.
" You are very provoking ! Do you want Ernest to think me
a fool ?"
" Have you waked to a consciousness of that danger ?"
"Yes, and I want you to teach me something. Come, tell me
what that thing is I asked you about."
" Tell you what ?"
" Why, what a a ' Fourieristic-phalanx ' is ?" said she, earn-
estly, f
Beulah could not avoid smiling, and wondered how he man-
aged to look so very serious, as he repjied :
" I know very little about the tactics of Fourieristic-phalanxes,
but believe a phalange is a community or association of about
eighteen hundred persons, who were supposed or intended to
practise the Fourieristic doctrines. In fine, a phalange is a sort
of French Utopia."
316 BEULAH.
" And wherv) is that, sir ?" asked Pauline, innocently, without
taking her eyes from his face.
11 Utopia is situated in No-country, and its chief city is on the
banks of the river Waterless."
" Oh, Uncle Guy ! how can you quiz me so unmercifully, when
I ask you to explain things to me ?"
"Why, Pauline, I am answering your questions correctly.
Sir Thomas More professed to describe Utopia, which means No-
place, and mentions a river Waterless. Don't look so despe-
rately lofty. I will show you the book, if you are so incorrigibly
stupid." He passed his arm round her, as he spoke, and kept
her close beside him.
" Mr. Lockhart, is he telling the truth ?" cried she, incredu-
lously.
" Certainly he is," answered her step-father, smiling.
" Oh, I don't believe either of you ! You two think that I
am simple enough to believe any absurdity you choose to tell me.
Beulah, what is Utopia ?"
" Just what your uncle told you".- More used Greek words
whicfe signified nothing, in order"' to veil the satire."
" Oh, a satire I Now, what is the reason you could not say it
was a satire, you wiseacre ?"
" Because I gave you credit for some penetration, and at least
common sense." .
" Both of which I have proved myself devoid of, I suppose ?
Thank you." She threw befj^rms round his neck, kissed him
once or twice, and laughingly added : " Come, now, Uncle Guy,
tell me what these ' phalaAes/ as you call them, have to do
with Ernest's text ?"
" I really cannot inform you. There is the dinner-bell."
Unclasping her arms, he led the way to the dining-room.
Later in the afternoon, Mr. Lockhart retired to his own room;
his wife fell asleep on the sofa, and Beulah and Pauline sat at
the parlor window, discussing the various occurrences of their
long separation* Pauline talked of her future how bright it
BEULA11. 317
was ; how very much she and Ernest bved each other, and how
busy she would be when she had a home of her own. She sup-
posed she would be obliged to give up dancing ; she had an
indistinct idea that preachers' wives were not in the habit of
indulging in any such amusements, and as for the theatre and
opera, she rather doubted whether either were to be found in
the inland town where she was to reside. Uncle Guy wished to
furnish the parsonage, and, among other things, had ordered an
elegant piano for her ; she intended to practise a great deal,
because Ernest was so fond of music. Uncle Guy had a hateful
habit of lecturing her about "domestic affairs," but she imagined
the cook would understand her own business ; and if Mr. Morti-
mor supposed she was going to play housemaid, why, she would
very soon undeceive him. Beulah was much amused at the
child-like simplicity with which she discussed her future, and
began to think the whole affair rather ludicrous, when Pauline
started, and exclaimed, as the blood dyed her cheeks :
" There is Ernest coming up the walk 1"
He came in, and greeted her with gentle gravity. He was a
dignified, fine-looking man, with polished manners, and perfect
self-possession. There was no trace of austerity in his counte-
nance, and nothing in his conversation betokening a desire to
impress strangers with his ministerial dignity. He was highly
cultivated in all his tastes, agreeable, and, in fine, a Christian
gentleman. Pauline seemed to consider his remarks oracular,
and Beulah could not forbear contrasting her quietness in his
presence, with the wild, frolicsome recklessness which character-
ized her manner on other occasion^ She wondered what singu-
lar freak induced this staid, learned clergyman to select a
companion so absolutely antagonistic in every element of charac-
ter. But a glance at Pauline's perfectly beautiful face explained
the mystery. How could any one help loving her, she was so
radiant and so winning in her unaffected artlessness. Beulah
conjectured that they might, perhaps, entertain each other with-
out her assistance, and soon left them for the greenhouse, which
318 BEULAH.
was connected with the parlors by a glass door. Followed by
Charon, who had remained beside her all day, she walked slowly
between the rows of plants, many of which were laden with
flowers. Brilliant clusters of scarlet geranium, pale, fragrant
heliotropes, and camellias of every hue surrounded her. Two or
three canary birds, in richly ornate cages, chirped and twittered
continually, and for a moment she forgot the changes that had
taken place since the days when she sought this favorite green-
house to study her text-books. Near her stood an antique china
vase containing a rare creeper, now full of beautiful, star-shaped
lilac flowers. Many months before, her guardian had given her
this root, and she had planted it in this same vase ; now the
long, graceful wreaths were looped carefully back, and tied to a
slender stake. She bent over the fragrant blossoms, with a
heart brimful of memories, and tears dropped thick and fast on
the delicate petals. Charon gave a short bark of satisfaction,
and raising her head, she saw Dr. Hartwell at the opposite end
of the greenhouse. He was clipping the withered flowers from
a luxuriant white japonica, the same that once furnished orna-
ments for her hair. Evidently, he was rather surprised to see
her there, but continued clipping the faded blossoms, and whis-
tled to his dog. Charon acknowledged the invitation by
another bark, but nestled his great head against Beulah, and
stood quite still, while she passed her hand caressingly over him.
She fancied a smile crossed her guardian's lips, but when he
turned toward her, there was no trace of it, and he merely
" Where is Pauline ?"
" In the parlor, with Mr. Mortimor."
" Here are the scissors ; cut as many flowers as you like."
He held out the scissors, but she shook her'head, and answered,
hastily :
" Thank you, I do not want any."
He looked at her searchingly, and observing unshed tears in
her eyes said, in a kinder tone than he had yet employed :
BEULA.H. 319
" Beulah, what do you want ?"
" Something that I almost despair of obtaining."
" Child, you are wasting your strength and energies in a fruit-
less undertaking. Already you have grown thin and hollow-
eyed ; your accustomed contented, cheerful spirit, is deserting
you. Your self-appointed task is a hopeless one ; utterly hope-
less !"
" I will not believe it/ 7 said she, firmly.
11 Very well ; some day you will be convinced that you are
not infallible." He smiled grimly, and busied himself with his
flowers.
" Sir, you could help me, if you would." She clasped her
hands over his arm, and fixed her eyes on his countenance, with
all the confidence and dependence of other days.
" Did I ever refuse you anything you asked ?" said he, looking
down at the little hands on his arm, and at the pale, anxious
face, with its deep, troubled eyes.
" No ! and it is precisely for that reason that I ask assistance
from you now."
" I suppose you are reduced to the last necessity. What has
become of your pride, Beulah ?"
" It is all here, in my heart, sir ! thundering to me to walk
out and leave you, since you are so unlike yourself."
He looked stern, and indescribably sad. She glanced up an
instant at his fascinating eyes, and then laying her head down on
his arm, as she used to do in childhood, said, resolutely :
" Oh, sir ! you must aid me. Whom have I to advise me but
you r
\ " My advice has about as much weight with you as Charon's
would, could he utter it. I am an admirable counsellor, only so
long as my opinions harmonize with the dictates of your own
will. How am I to aid you? I went, at twelve o'clock last
night, to see a dying man, and passing along the street, saw a
light burning from your window. Two hours later, as I returned,
it glimmered there still. Why were you up ? Beulah, what is
320 B E U L A H .
the matter with you ? Has your last treatise on the ' Origin of
Ideas ' run away with those of its author, and landed you both
in a region of vagaries ? Remember, I. warned you."
" Something worse, sir."
" Perhaps German metaphysics have stranded you on the
bleak, bald cliffs of Pyrrhonism ?"
*' Sir, it seems to me there is a great deal of unmerited odium
laid upon the innocent shoulders of German metaphysics. People
declaim against the science of metaphysics, as if it were the
disease itself, whereas it is the remedy. Metaphysics do not
originate the trouble ; their very existence proves the priority
of the disease which they attempt to relieve "
" Decidedly a homeopathic remedy," interrupted her guar-
dian, smiling.
"But, sir, the questions which disturb my mind are older than
my acquaintance with so-called philosophic works. They have
troubled me from my childhood."
" Nevertheless, I warned you not to explore my library," said
he, with a touch of sorrow in his voice.
" How, then, can you habitually read books which you are
unwilling to put into my hands ?"
"To me all creeds and systems are alike null. With you,
Beulah, it was once very different."
" Once ! yes, once !" She shuddered at the wild waste into
which she had strayed.
" What are the questions that have so long disturbed you ?"
" Questions, sir, which, all my life, have been printed on even-
ing sun-flushed clouds, on rosy sea shells, on pale, sweet, delicate
blossoms, and which *I have unavailingly sought to answer for
myself. There are mysteries in physics, morals and metaphy-
sics, that have wooed me on to an investigation ; but the further
I wander, deeper grows the darkness. Alone, and unaided, I
have been forced to brave these doubts ; I have studied, and
read, and thought. Cloudy symbolisms* mock me on every side ;
and the more earnestly I strive to overtake truth, the tighter
BEULAH. 321
grow my g'yvcs. Now, sir, you are much older ; you have scaled
the dizzy heights of science, and carefully explored the mines of
philosophy ; and if human learning will avail, then you can help
me. It is impossible for you to have lived and studied so long,
without arriving at some conclusion relative to these vexing
questions of this and every other age. I want to know whether
I have ever lived before ; whether there is not an anterior life of
my soul, of which I get occasional glimpses, and the memory of
which haunts and disquiets me. This doubt has not been engen-
dered by casual allusions to Plato's 'reminiscence theory;'
before I knew there was such a doctrine in existence, I have
sat by your study fire, pondering some strange coincidences, for
which I could not account. It seemed an indistinct outgoing
into the far past ; a dim recollection of scenes and ideas, older
than the aggregate of my birth-days : now a flickering light,
then all darkness ; no clew ; all shrouded in the mystery of
voiceless ages. I tried to explain these psychological phenomena
by the theory of association of ideas, but they eluded an analy-
sis ; there was no chain along which memory can pass. They
were like ignes fatui, flashing up from dank caverns, and dying
out while I looked upon them. As I grew older, I found strange
confirmation in those curious passages of Coleridge and Words-
worth,* and continually I propound to my soul these questions :
' If you are immortal, and will exist through endless ages, have
you not existed from the beginning of time ? Immortality knows
neither commencement nor ending. If so, whither shall I go,
when this material frame-work is dissolved, to make other frame-
works, to a final rest ? or shall the I, the me, the soul, lose its
former identity ? Am I a minute constituent of the all-diffused,
all-pervading Spirit, a breath of the Infinite Essence, one day to
be divested of my individuality ? or is God an awful, gigantic,
immutable, isolated Personality ? If so, what medium of com-
* Coleridge's " Sonnet on the birth of a son." Wordsworth's " Ode-
Intimations of Immortality."
U*
322 B E U L A H .
municatiou is afforded ? Can the spiritual commune with mat-
ter ? Can the material take cognizance of the purely spiritual
and divine V Oh, sir ! I know that you do not accept the holy
men of Galilee as His deputed oracles. Tell me where you find
surer prophets ! Only show me the truth the eternal truth,
and I would give my life for it I Sir, how can you smile at such
questions as these ; questions involving the soul's destiny ? One
might fancy you a second Parrhasius."
She drew back a step or two, and regarded him anxiously,
nay, pleadingly, as though he held the key to the Temple of
Truth, and would not suffer her to pass the portal. A sarcastic
smile lighted his Apollo-like face, as he answered :
"There is more truth in your metaphor than you imagined ;
a la Parrhasius, I do see you, a tortured Prometheus, chained
by links of your own forging to the Caucasus of Atheism. But
listen to "
" No, no ; not that ! not Atheism ! God save me from that
deepest, blackest gulf 1" She shuddered, and covered her face
with her hands.
" Beulah, you alone must settle these questions with your own
soul ; my solutions would not satisfy you. For thousands of
years they have been propounded, and yet no answer comes
down on the ' cloudy wings of centuries.' Each must solve to
suit his or her peculiar conformation of mind. My child, if I
could aid you, Would gladly do so ; but I am no Swedenborg,
to whom the arcana of the universe have been revealed."
" Still, after a fashion, you have solved these problems ; may
I not know what your faith is ?" said she, earnestly.
" Child, I have no faith ! I know that I exist ; that a beau-
tiful universe surrounds me, and I am conscious of -a multitude
of conflicting emotions ; but, like Launcelot Smith, I doubt
whether I am ' to pick and choose myself out of myself.' Further
than this, I would assure you of nothing. I stand on the ever-
lasting basis of all skepticism, ' there is no criterion of truth I ;
All must be but subjectively, relatively true "
B E U L A II . 323
" Sir, tliis may be so as regards psychological abstractions ;
but can you be contented with this utter negation of the grand
problems of ontology ?"
" A profound philosophic writer of the age intimates that the
various psychological systems which have so long vexed the
world, are but veiled ontologic speculations. What matters the
machinery of ideas, but as enabling philosophy to cope success-
fully with ontology ? Philosophy is a huge wheel, which has
been revolving for ages ; early metaphysicians hung their finely-
spun webs on its spokes, and metaphysicians of the nineteenth
century gaze upon and renew the same pretty theories as the
wheel revolves. The history of philosophy shows but a repro-
duction of old systems and methods of inquiry. Beulah, no mine
of ontologic truth has been discovered. Conscious of this, our
seers tell us there is nothing now but 'eclecticism !' Ontology is
old as human nature, yet the stone of Sisyphus continues to roll
back upon the laboring few who-strive to impel it upward. Oh,
child, do you not see how matters stand ? Why, how can the
finite soul cope with Infinite Being ? This is one form the
other, if we can take cognizance of the Eternal and Self-Existing
Being, underlying all phenomena, why, then, we are part and
parcel of that Infinity. Pantheism or utter skepticism there is
no retreat."
" I don't want to believe that, sir. I will not believe it.
What was my reason given to me for ? Was this spirit of inquiry
after truth only awakened in my soul to mock me with a sense
of my nothingness ? Why did my Maker imbue me with an in-
satiable thirst for knowledge ? Knowledge of the deep things
of philosophy, the hidden wonders of the universe, the awful
mysteries of the shadowy spirit realm ? Oh, there are analogies
pervading all departments ! There is physical hunger to goad
to exertions which will satisfy its demands, and most tonics are
bitter ; so, bitter struggles develop and strengthen the soul, even
as hard study invigorates the mind, and mmerous sorrows chasten
the heart. There is truth for the earne t seeker somewhere
324 B K U L A H .
somewhere 1 If I live a tliousand years, I will toil after it
till I find it. If, as you believe, death is annihilation, then will
I make the most of my soul while I have it. Oh, sir, what is life
for ? Merely to eat and drink, to sleep and to be clothed ? Is
it to be only a constant effort to keep soul and body together ?
If I thought so, I would rather go back to nothingness this day
this hour ! No, no. My name bids me press on ; there is a
land of Beulah somewhere for my troubled spirit. Oh, I will go
back to my humble home, and study on, unguided, unassisted
even as I have begun. I cannot rest on your rock of negation."
She could not control her trembling voice, and tears of bitter
disappointment fell over her pale, fixed features. A melancholy
smile parted Dr. Hart well's lips, and smoothing the bands of
rippling hair which lay on her white brow, he answered in his
own thrilling, musical accents :
" Child, you are wasting your energies in vain endeavors to
build up walls of foam, that "
" Sir, I am no longer. a child ! I am a woman, and"
" Yes, my little Beulah, and your woman's heart will not be
satisfied long with these dim abstractions, which now you chase
so eagerly. Mark me, there surely comes a time when you will
loathe the bare name of metaphysics. You are making a very
hot-bed of your intellect, while your heart is daily becoming a
dreary desert. Take care, lest the starvation be so complete,
that eventually you will be unable to reclaim it. Dialectics
answer very well in collegiate halls, but will not content you.
Remember ' Argemone.' n
" She is a miserable libel on woman's nature and intellect. I
scorn the attempted parallel 1" answered Beulah, indignantly.
" Very well ; mark me though, your intellectual pride will yet
wreck your happiness."
He walked out of the greenhouse, whistling to Charon, who
bounded after him. Beulah saw from the slanting sunlight that
the afternoon was far advanced, and feeling in no mood to listen
to Pauline's nonsense, she found her bonnet and shawl, and
BKULAH. 325
repaired to the parlor to say good bye to the happ pair, who
seemed unconscious of her long absence. As she left the house,
the window of the study was thrown open, and Dr. Hartwell
called out, carelessly :
" Wait, and let me order the carriage."
" No, thank you."
" I am going into town directly, and can take you home in
the buggy."
" I will not trouble you ; I prefer walking. Good bye."
He bowed coldly, and she hurried away, glad to reach the gate,
and feel that she was once more free from his searching glance,
and beyond the sound of his reserved, chilling tones. As she
walked on, groups of happy parents and children were seen in
every direction, taking their quiet Sabbath ramble through the
suburbs ; and as joyous voices and innocent laughter fell upon
the still air, she remembered with keen sorrow that she had no
ties, no kindred, no companions. Lilly's cherub face looked out
at her from the sombre frame of the past, and Eugene's early
friendship, seemed now a taunting spectre. In her warm, loving
heart were unfathomable depths of intense tenderness ; was it
the wise providence of God which sealed these wells of affection,
or was it a grim, merciless fate which snatched her idols from
her, one by one, and left her heart desolate ? Such an inquiry
darted through her mind, but she put it resolutely aside, and
consoled herself much after this fashion : " Why should I ques-
tion the circumstances of my life ? If the God of Moses guards
his creation, all things are well. If not, life is a lottery, and
though I have drawn blankfcms far, the future may contain a
prize, and for me that prize may be the truth my soul pants
after. I have no right to complain ; the very loneliness of my
position fits me peculiarly for the work I have to do. I will
labor, and be content." The cloud passed swiftly from her
countenance, and she looked up to the quiet sky with a brave,
hopeful heart.
326 BEULAH.
CHAPTER XXV.
AMONG the number of gentlemen whom Beulah occasionally
met at Dr. Asbury's house, were two whose frequent visits and
general demeanor induced the impression that they were more
than ordinarily interested in the sisters. Frederick Vincent
evinced a marked preference for Georgia, while Horace Maxwell
was conspicuously attentive to Helen. The former was wealthy,
handsome, indolent, and self-indulgent ; the latter rather supe-
rior, as to business habits, which a limited purse peremptorily
demanded. Doubtless both would have passed as men of
medium capacity, but certainly as nothing more. In fine, they
were (air samples, perfect types of the numerous class of fashion-
able young men who throng all large cities. Good-looking, vain,
impudent, heartless, frivolous, and dissipated ; adepts at the
gaming-table and pistol gallery, ciphers in an intelligent, refined
assembly. They smoked the choicest cigars, drank the most
costly wines, drove the fastest horses, and were indispensable at
champagne and oyster suppers. They danced and swore, visited
and drank, with reckless indifference to every purer and nobler
aim. Notwithstanding manners of. incorrigible effrontery which
characterized their clique, the ladiel ^always received them with
marked expressions of pleasure, aid the entree of the "first
circle " was certainly theirs. Dr. ws*bury knew comparatively
little of the young men who visited so constantly at his house,
but of the two under discussion he chanced to know, that they
were by no means models of sobriety, having met them late one
night as they supported each other's tottering forms homeward,
after a card and wine party, which ended rather disastrously
for both. He openly avowed his discontent at the intimacy
their frequent visits induced, and wondered how his daughters
BEULAH. 327
could patiently indulge in the heartless chit-chat which alone
could entertain them. But he was a fond, almost doting father,
and seemed to take it for granted, that they were mere dancing
acquaintances, whose society must be endured. Mrs. Asbury
was not so blind, and discovered, with keen sorrow and dismay,
that Georgia was far more partial to Vincent than she had
dreamed possible. The mother's heart ached with dread, lest
her child's affections were really enlisted, and without her hus-
band's knowledge she passed many hours of bitter reflection, as
to the best course she should pursue to arrest Vincent's inti-
macy at the house. Only a woman knows woman's heart, and
she felt that Georgia's destiny would be decided by the
measures she now employed. Ridicule, invective, and even
remonstrance, she knew would only augment her interest in
one whom she considered unjustly dealt with. She was
thoroughly acquainted with the obstinacy which formed the
stamen of Georgia's character, and very cautiously the mater-
nal guidance must be given. She began by gravely regretting
the familiar footing Mr. Vincent had acquired in her family, and
urged upon Georgia and Helen the propriety of discouraging
attentions that justified the world in joining their names. This
had very little effect. She was conscious that because of his
wealth, Vincent was courted and flattered by the most select and
fashionable of her circle of acquaintances, and knew, alas 1 that
he was not more astray than the majority of the class of young
men to which he belonged. With a keen pang, she saw that
her child shrank from her, evaded her kind questions, and seemed
to plunge into the festivities of the season with unwonted zest.
From their birth, she had trained her daughters to confide unre-
servedly in her, and now to perceive the youngest avoiding her
caresses, or hurrying away from her anxious glance, was bitter
indeed. How her pure-hearted darling could tolerate the reck-
less, frivolous being, in whose society she seemed so well satisfied,
was a painful mystery; but the startling reality looked her in
the face, and she resolved, at every hazard, to save her from the
328 BEULAH.
misery which was in store for Fred Vincent's wife. Beulah's
quick eye readily discerned the state of affairs relative to
Georgia and Vincent, and she could with difficulty restrain an
expression of the disgust a knowledge of his character inspired.
He was a brother of the Miss Vincent she had once seen at Dr.
Hartwell's, and probably this circumstance increased her dislike.
Vincent barely recognized her when they chanced to meet, and
of all his antipathies, hatred of Beulah predominated. He was
perfectly aware that she despised his weaknesses and detested
his immoralities ; and while he shrank from the steadfast grey
eyes, calm but contemptuous, he hated her heartily.
Cornelia Graham seemed for a time to have rallied all her
strength, and attended parties and kept her place at the opera,
with a regularity which argued a complete recovery. Antoinette
Dupres was admired and flattered ; the season was unusually
gay. What if Death had so lately held his awful assize in the
city ? Bereaved families wrapped their sable garments about
lonely hearts, and wept over the countless mounds in the ceme-
tery ; but the wine-cup and song and dance went their accus-
tomed rounds in fashionable quarters, and drink, dress and be
merry appeared the all-absorbing thought. Into this gaiety
Eugene Graham eagerly plunged ; night after night was spent
in one continued whirl ; day by day he wandered further astray,
and ere long his visits to Beulah ceased entirely. Antoinette
thoroughly understood the game she had to play, and easily and
rapidly he fell into the snare. To win her seemed his only wish,
and not even Cornelia's keenly searching eyes could check his
admiration and devotion. January had gone ; February drew
near its close ; Beulah had not seen Eugene for many days, and
felt more than usually anxious concerning him, for little inter-
course now existed between Cornelia and herself. One evening,
however, as she stood before a glass and arranged her hair with
more than ordinary care, she felt that she would soon have an
opportunity of judging whether reports were true. If he indeed
rushed along the highway to ruin, one glance would discover to
B E U L A II . 329
ner the fact. Dr. Asbury wished to give Pauline Chilton a
party, and his own and Mrs. Asbury's kind persuasions induced
the orphan to consent to attend. The evening had arrived;
she put on her simple Swiss muslin dress, without a wish for any-
thing more costly, and entered the carriage her friends had sent
to convey her to the house. The guests rapidly assembled;
soon the rooms were thronged with merry people, whose moving
to and fro prevented regular conversation. The brilliant chan-
deliers flashed down on rich silks and satins, gossamer fabrics,
and diamonds which blazed dazzlingly. Pauline was superbly
beautiful. Excitement lighted her eyes, and flushed her cheeks,
until all paused to gaze at her transcendent loveliness. It was
generally known that ere many days her marriage would take
place, and people looked at her in her marvellous, queenly beauty,
and wondered what infatuation induced her to give her hand to
a minister, when she, of all others present, seemed made to
move in the gay scene where she reigned supreme. From a
quiet seat near the window Beulah watched her airy, graceful
form glide through the quadrille, and feared that in future years
she would sigh for the gaieties which in her destined lot would
be withheld from her. She tried to fancy the dazzling beauty
metamorphosed into the staid clergyman's wife, divested of satin
and diamonds, and visiting the squalid and suffering portion of
her husband's flock. But the contrast was too glaring, and she
turned her head to watch for Eugene's appearance. Before long
she saw him cross the room with Antoinette on his arm. The
quadrille had ended, and, as at the request of one of the guests,
the band played a brilliant mazurka, numerous couples took
their places on the floor. Beulah had never seen the mazurka
danced, in public ; she knew that neither Helen nor Georgia
ever danced the so-called " fancy dances," and was not a little
surprised when the gentlemen encircled the waists of their
partners and whirled away. Her eyes followed Eugene's tall
form, as the circuit of the parlors was rapidly made, and he
approached the corner where she sat. He held his lovely part-
330 B E U L A H .
ner close to bis heart, and her head drooped very contentedly on
his shoulder. He was talking to her as they danced, and his
lips nearly touched her glowing cheek. On they came, so close
to Beulah that Antoinette's gauzy dress floated against her, and
as the music quickened, faster flew the dancers. Beulah looked
on with a sensation of disgust, which might have been easily read
in her countenance ; verily she blushed for her degraded sex,
and, sick of the scene, left the window and retreated to the library,
where the more sedate portion of the guests were discussing
various topics. Here were Mr. and Mrs. Grayson ; Claudia was
North, at school. Beulah found a seat near Mrs. Asbury, and
endeavored to banish the painful recollections which Mrs. Gray-
son's face recalled. They had not met since the memorable day
when the orphan first found a guardian, and she felt that there
was still an unconquerable aversion in her heart, which caused it
to throb heavily. She thought the time tediously long, and
when at last the signal for supper was given, felt relieved. As
usual, there was rushing and squeezing into the supper-room, and
waiting until the hall was comparatively deserted, she ran up to
the dressing-room for her shawl, tired of the crowd and anxious
to get home again. She remembered that she had dropped her
fan behind one of the sofas in the parlor, and as all were at sup-
per, fancied she could obtain it unobserved, and entered the room
for that purpose. A gentleman stood by the fire, but without
noticing him, she pushed the sofa aside, secured her fan, and
was turning away, when a well known voice startled her.
"Beulah, where are you going ?"
"Home, sir."
" What ! so soon tired ?
" Yes, heartily tired," said she, wrapping her shawl about her.
" Have you spoken to Eugene to-night ?"
" No."
Her guardian looked at her very intently, as if striving to read
her soul, and said slowly:
" Child, he and Antoinette are sitting in the front parlor. I
BEULAII. 331
happened to overhear a remark as I passed them. He is an
accepted lover; they are engaged."
A quick shiver ran over Beulah's frame, and a dark frown
furrowed her pale brow, as she answered:
" I feared as much."
" Why should you fear, child ? She is a beautiful heiress, and
he loves her," returned Dr. Hartwell, without taking his eyes
from her lace. '
"No; he thinks he loves her, but it is not so. He is fasci-
nated by her beauty, but I fear the day will come when, disco-
vering her true character, he will mourn his infatuation. I
know his nature, and I know, too, that she cannot make him
happy." She turned away, but he walked on with her to the
carriage, handed her in, and said "good night" as coldly as
usual. Meantime, the rattle of plates, jingle of forks and
spoons, in the supper-room, would have rendered all conversa-
tion impossible, had not the elevation of voices kept pace with
the noise and confusion. At one end of the table, Cornelia
Graham stood talking to a distinguished foreigner, who was
spending a few days in the city. He was a handsome man, with
fine colloquial powers, and seemed much interested in a discus-
sion which he and Cornelia carried on, relative to the society of
American cities as compared with European. A temporary lull
in the hum of voices allowed Cornelia to hear a remark made
by a gentleman quite near her.
" Miss Laura, who did you say that young lady was that Mrs.
Asbury introduced me to ? The one with such magnificent hair
and teeth ?"
His companion was no other than Laura Martin, whose
mother, having built an elegant house, and given several large
parties, was now a " fashionable," par excellence. Laura elevated
her nose very perceptibly, and answered :
" Oh, a mere nobody! Beulah Benton. I can't imagine how
she contrived to be invited here. She is a teacher in the public
school, I believe, but that is not the worst. She used to hire
332 BEULAH.
herself out as a servant. Indeed, it is a fact, she was my little
brother's nurse some years ago. I think 'ma hired her for six
dollars a month." She laughed affectedly, and allowed her
escort to fill her plate with creams.
Cornelia grew white with anger, and the stranger asked, with
a smile, if he should consider this a sample of the society she
boasted of. Turning abruptly to Laura, she replied, with undis-
guised contempt:
"The Fates forbid, Mr. Falconer, that you should judge
American society from some of the specimens you may see here
to-night. Misfortune placed Miss Bentou, at an early age, in an
orphan asylum, and while quite young, she left it to earn a
support. Mrs. Martin (this young lady's mother), hired her as
a nurse; but she soon left this position, qualified herself to teach,
and now, with a fine intellect thoroughly cultivated, is the pride
of all who can appreciate true nobility of soul, and, of course,
an object of envy and detraction to her inferiors, especially to
some of our fashionable parvenus, whose self-interest prompts
them to make money alone the standard of worth, and who are
in the habit of determining the gentility of different persons by
what they have, not what they are." Her scornful glance rested
witheringly on Laura's face, and, mortified and enraged, tjie lat-
ter took her companion's arm, and moved away.
" I have some desire to become acquainted with one who
could deserve such eulogy from you," answered the foreigner,
somewhat amused at the course the conversation had taken, and
quite satisfied that Americans were accustomed to correct false
impressions in rather an abrupt manner.
" I will present you to her with great pleasure. Si so is not
here; we must search for her." She took his arm, and they
looked for Beulah from room to room; finally, Dr. Hartwell!
informed Cornelia that she had gone home, and tired, and out
of humor, the latter excused herself, and prepared to follow her
friend's example. Her father was deep in a game of whist, her
mother unwilling to return home so soon, and Eugene and
B E U L A H . 333
Antoinette where were they ? Dr. Hartwell saw her perplexed
expression, and asked :
" Whom are you looking for ?"
" Eugene."
" lie is with your cousin on the west gallery. I will conduct
you to them, if you wish it." He offered his arm, and noticed
the scowl that instantly darkened her face. Unconsciously, her
fingers grasped his arm tightly, and she walked on with a lower-
ing brow. As they approached the end of the gallery, Cornelia
saw that the two she sought stood earnestly conversing.
Eugene's arm passed round Antoinette's waist. Dr. Hartwell
watched his Companion closely; the light from the window
gleamed over her face, and showed it grey and rigid. Her
white lips curled as she muttered :
" Let us take another turn before I speak to them."
" Surely, you are not surprised ?"
"Oh, no! lam not blind."
" It was an unlucky chance that threw your cousin in his
path," said the -doctor, composedly.
" Oh, it is merely another link in the chain of fatality which
binds my family to misfortune. She has all the family traits of
the Labords, and you know what they are," cried Cornelia.
He compressed his lips, and a lightning glance shot out from
his eyes, but he stilled the rising tempest, and replied coldly:
"Why, then, did you not warn him ?"
" Warn him 1 So I did. But I might as well grasp at the
stars yonder as hope to influence him in this infatuation."
Once more they approached the happy pair, and leaning for-
ward, Cornelia said, hoarsely :
" Eugene, my father is engaged ; come home with me."
He looked up, and answered carelessly : " Oh, you are leaving
too early ; can't you entertain yourself a little longer ?"
" No, sir."
Her freezing tone startled him, and for the first time he noticed
the haggard face, with its expression of angry scorn. Her eyes
334: B E U L A II .
were fixed on Antoinette, who only smiled, and looked triumph-
antly defiant.
u Are you ill, Cornelia ? Of course, I will take you home if
you> really desire it. Doctor, I must consign Miss Dupres to your
care till I return."
Eugene by no means relished the expression of his sister's
countenance. She bade Dr. Hartwell adieu, passed her arm
through her brother's, and they proceeded to their carriage.
The ride was short and silent. On reaching home, Eugene con-
ducted Cornelia into the house, and was about to return, when
she said, imperiously :
" A word with you before you go."
She entered the sitting-room, threw her wrappings on a chair,
and began to divest herself of bracelets and necklace. Eugene
lighted a cigar, and stood waiting to hear what she might choose
to communicate. Fastening her brilliant black eyes on his face,
she said, sneeriugly :
" Eugene Graham, did you learn dissimulation in the halls of
Heidelberg ?"
" What do you mean, Cornelia ?"
" Where did you learn to deceive one who believed you pure
and truthful as an archangel ? Answer me that." Her whole face
was a glare of burning scorn.
" Insulting insinuations are unworthy of you, and beneath my
notice," he proudly replied.
"Well, then, take the more insulting truth ! What crawling
serpent of temptation induced you to tell me you expected to
marry Beulah ? No evasion ! I will not be put off ! Why
did you deceive me with a falsehood I was too stupidly trust-
ing to discover until recently ?"
" When I told you so, I expected to marry Beulah ; not so
much because I loved her, but because I supposed that she rather
considered me bound to her by early ties. I discovered, however,
that her happiness was not dependent on me, and therefore aban-
doned the idea."
BEULAH. * 335
" And my peerless cousin is to be your bride, eh ?"
" Yes, she has promised me her hand at an early day."
" No doubt. You don't deserve anything better. Beulah
scorns you ; I see it in her eyes. Marry you ! You 1 Oh,
Eugene, she is too far superior to you. You are blind now ; but
the day will surely come when your charmer will, with her own
hand, tear the veil from your eyes, and you will curse your folly.
It is of no use to tell you that she is false, heartless, utterly un-
principled ; you will not believe it, of course, till you find out her
miserable defects yourself. I might thunder warnings in your
ears from now till doomsday, and you would not heed me. But
whether I live to see it or not, you will bitterly rue your infatu-
ation. You will blush for the name which, as your wife, Antoi-
nette will disgrace. Now leave me."
She pointed to the door, and too much incensed to reply, he
quitted the room with a suppressed oath, slamming the door
behind him. Cornelia went up to her own apartment, and, with-
out ringing for her maid, took off the elegant dress she wore,
and threw her dressing-gown round her. The diamond hair-pins
glowed like coals of fire in her black braids, mocking the grey,
bloodless face, and look of wretchedness. She took out the
jewels, laid them on her lap, and suffered the locks of hair to fall
upon her shoulders. Then great hot tears rolled over her face;
heavy sobs convulsed her frame, and bowing down her head, the
haughty heiress wept passionately. Eugene was the only being
she really loved ; for years her hopes and pride had centred in
him. Now, down the long vista of coming time, she looked and
saw him staggering on to ruin and disgrace. She knew her own
life would at best be short, and felt that now it had lost its only
interest, and she was ready to sink to her last rest, rather than
witness his future career. This was the first time she had wept
since the days of early childhood ; but she calmed the fearful
struggle in her heart, and, toward dawn, fell asleep, with a re-
pulsive sneer on her lips. The ensuing day she was forced to
listen to the complacent comments of her parents, who were well
336 BEFLAH.
pleased with the alliance. Antoinette was to return home im-
mediately, the marriage would take place in June, and they
were all to spend the summer at the North ; after which it was
suggested that the young couple should reside with Mr. Graham.
Cornelia was standing apart, when her mother made this propo-
sition, and turning sharply toward the members of her family,
the daughter exclaimed :
" Never ! You all know that this match is utterly odious to
me. Let Eugene have a house of his own ; I have no mind to have
Antoinette longer in my home. Nay, father ; it will not be for
a great while. When I ain gone they can come ; I rather think
I shall not long be in their way. While I do live, let me be
quiet, will you ?"
Her burning, yet sunken eyes ran over the group.
Eugene sprang up, and left the room ; Antoinette put her
embroidered handkerchief to dry eyes ; Mrs. Graham looked dis-
tressed ; and her husband wiped his spectacles. But the mist
was in his eyes, and presently large drops fell over his cheeks as
he looked at the face and form of his only child.
Cornelia saw his emotion ; the great flood-gate of her heart
seemed suddenly lifted. She passed her white fingers over his
grey hair, and murmured brokenly :
" My father my father ! I have been a care and a sorrow to
you all my life ; I am very wayward and exacting, but bear with
your poor child ; my days are numbered. Father., when my
proud head lies low in the silent grave, then give others my
place."
He took her in his arms, and kisSed her hollow cheek, saying
tenderly :
" My darling, you break my heart. Have you ever been de-
nied a wish ? What is there that I can do to make you happy ?"
" Give Eugene a house of his own, and let me be at peace in
my home. Will you do this for me ?"
"Yes."
" Thank you, my father."
BEULAH. 337
Disengaging his clasping arm,. she left them.
A few days after the party at her house, Mrs. Asbury returned
home from a visit to the Asylum (of which she had recently been
elected a manager). In passing the parlor door, she hoard sup-
pressed voices, looked in, and perceiving Mr. Vincent seated near
Georgia, retired, without speaking, to her own room. Securing
the door, she sank on her knees, and besought an all-wise God
to direct and aid her in her course of duty. The time had
arrived when she must hazard everything to save her child from
an ill-fated marriage ; and though the mother's heart bled, she
was firm in her resolve. When Mr. Vincent took leave, and
Georgia had returned to her room, Mrs. Asbury sought her.
She found her moody, and disposed to evade her questions.
Passing her arm round her, she said, very gently :
" My dear child, let there be perfect confidence between us.
Am I not more interested in your happiness than any one else ?
My child, what has estranged you of late ?"
Georgia made no reply.
" What, but my love for you, and anxiety for your happiness,
could induce me to object to your receiving Mr. Vincent's atten-
tions ?"
" You are prejudiced against him, and always were I"
" I judge the young man only from his conduct. You know
you are obliged to know, that he is recklessly dissipated, selfish
and immoral."
"He is no worse than other young men. I know very few
who are not quite as wild as he is. Beside, he has promised to
sign the temperance pledge, Jf I will marry him."
" My child, you pain me beyond expression. Does the depra-
vity which prevails here sanction Vincent's dissipation ? Oh,
Georgia, has association deprived you of horror of vice ? Can
you be satisfied because others are quite as degraded ? He does
not mean what he promises, it is merely to deceive you. His
intemperate habits are too confirmed to be remedied now ; he
began early, at college, and has constantly grown worse.
15
338 BEULAH.
' You are prejudiced," persisted Georgia, unable to restrain
her tears.
" If I am, it is because of his profligacy ! Can you possibly
be attached to such a man ?"
Georgia sobbed, and cried heartily. Her good sense told her
that her mother was right, but it was difficult to relinquish the
hope of reforming him. As gently as possible, Mrs. Asbury
dwelt upon his utter worthlessness, and the misery and wretched-
ness which would surely ensue from such a union. With stream-
ing eyes, she implored her to banish the thought, assuring her
she would sooner see her in her grave, than the wife of a drunk-
ard. And now the care of years was to be rewarded ; her firm,
but gentle reasoning prevailed. Georgia had always reverenced
her mother ; she knew she was invariably guided by principle;
and now, as she listened to her earnest entreaties, all her obsti-
nacy melted away ; throwing herself into her mother's arms, she
begged her to forgive the pain and anxiety she had caused her.
Mrs. Asbury pressed her to her heart, and silently thanked God
for the success of her remonstrances. Of all this, Dr. Asbury
knew nothing. When Mr. Vincent called, the following day,
Georgia very decidedly rejected him. Understanding from her
manner, that she meant what she said, he became violently
enraged ; swore, with a solemn oath, that he would make her
repent her trifling, took his hat, and left the house. This suf-
ficed to remove any lingering tenderness from Georgia's heart;
and from that hour, Fred Vincent darkened the home circle no
more.
BEULAH. 339
CHAPTER XXVI.
PAULINE'S wedding-day dawned clear and bright, meet for the
happy event it was to chronicle. The ceremony was to be per-
formed in church, at an early hour, to enable the newly married
pair to leave on the morning boat, and the building was crowded
with the numerous friends assembled to witness the rites. The
minister stood within the altar, and after some slight delay, Mr.
Mortimor led Pauline down the aisle. Dr. Hartwell and Mrs.
Lockhart stood near the altar. Mr. Lockhart's indisposition
prevented his attendance. Satin, blond and diamonds were dis-
carded ; Pauline was dressed in a grey travelling habit, and wore
a plain drab travelling bonnet.
It was a holy, a touching bridal. The morning sunshine,
stealing through the lofty, arched windows, fell on her pure brow
with dazzling radiance, and lent many a golden wave to the
silky, clustering curls. Pauline was marvellously beautiful ; the
violet eyes were dewy with emotion, and her ripe, coral lips,
wreathed with a smile of trembling joyousness. Perchance a
cursory observer might have fancied Mr. Mortimor's countenance
too grave and thoughtful for such an occasion ; but though the
mouth was at rest, and the dark, earnest eyes sparkled not, there
was a light of grateful, chastened gladness shed over the quiet
features. Only a few words were uttered by the clergyman, and
Pauline, the wild, wayward, careless, high-spirited girl, stood
there a wife. She grew deadly pale, and looked up with a feel-
ing of awe to him who was now, for all time, the master of her
destiny. The vows yet upon her lips bound her irrevocably to his
side, and imposed on her, as a solemn duty, the necessity of bear-
ing all trials for herself ; of smoothing away home cares from his
340 B E U L A H .
path ; and, when her own heart was troubled, of putting by the
sorrow aud bitterness, and ever welcoming his coming with a
word of kindness, or a smile of joy. A wife ! She must be brave
enough to wrestle with difficulties for herself, instead of wearying
him with all the tedious details of domestic trials, and yet turn
to him for counsel and sympathy in matters of serious import.
No longer a mere self-willed girl, consulting only her own wishes
and tastes, she had given another the right to guide and control
her ; and now realizing, for the first time, the importance of the
step she had taken, she trembled in anticipation of the trouble
her wayward, obstinate will would cause her. But with her
wonted, buoyant spirit, she turned from all unpleasant reflections,
and received the congratulations of her friends with subdued
gaiety. Beulah stood at some distance, watching the April face,
checkered with smiles and tears ; and looking with prophetic
dread into the future, she saw how little genuine happiness could
result from a union of natures so entirely uncongenial. To her,
the nuptial rites were more awfully solemn than those of death;
for how infinitely preferable was a quiet resting-place in the
shadow of mourning cedars, to the life-long agony of an unhappy
union. She looked up at her quondam guardian, as he stood,
grave and silent, regarding his niece with sadly anxious eyes;
and as she noted the stern inflexibility of his sculptured mouth,
she thought that he stood there a marble monument, recording
the misery of an ill-assorted marriage. But it was school time,
and she approached to say " good bye," as the bridal pair took
their seats in the carriage. Pauline seemed much troubled at
bidding her adieu ; she wept silently a minute, then throwing
her arms around Beulah's neck, whispered pleadingly :
" Won't you go back to Uncle Guy ? Won't you let him
adopt you ? Do, please. See how grim and pale he looks.
Won't you ?"
"No. He has ceased to care about my welfare ; he is not
distressed about me, I assure you. Good bye. Write to me
often."
B E U L A H . 341
"Yes, I will; and in vacation, Ernest says you are to come up
and spend at least a mouth with us. Do you hear ?"
The carriage was whirled away, and Bculah walked on to her
school room, with a dim foreboding that when she again met the
beautiful, warm-hearted girl, sunshine might be banished from
her face. Days, weeks and months passed by. How systematic
industry speeds the wheels of time. Beulah had little leisure,
and this was employed with the most rigid economy. School
duties occupied her until late in the day ; then she gave, every
afternoon, a couple of music lessons, and it was not until night
that she felt herself free. The editor of the magazine found that
her articles were worth remuneration, and consequently a monthly
contribution had to be copied, and sent in at stated intervals.
Thus engaged, spring glided into summer, and once more a June
sun beamed on the city. One Saturday she accompanied Clara
to a jewelry store to make some trifling purchase, and saw
Eugene Graham leaning over the counter, looking at some sets of
pearl and diamonds. He did not perceive her immediately, and
she had an opportunity of scanning his countenance unobserved.
Her lip trembled as she noticed the flushed face and inflamed
eyes, and saw that the hand which held a bracelet, was very
unsteady. He looked up, started and greeted her with evident
embarrassment. She waited until Clara had completed her
purchase, and then said, quietly :
" Eugene, are you going away without coming to see me ?"
" Why, no ; I had intended calling yesterday, but was pre-
vented, and I am obliged to leave this afternoon. By the way,
help me to select between these two pearl sets. I suppose you
can imagine their destination ?"
It was the first time he had alluded to his marriage, and she
answered with an arch smile :
" Oh, yes ! I dare say I might guess very accurately. It
would not require Yankee ingenuity ."
She examined the jewels, and after giving an opinion as to
their superiority, turned to go, saying :
34:2 BEULAH.
" I want to see you a few moments before you leave the city.
I am going home immediately, and any time during the day,
when you can call, will answer."
He looked curious, glanced at his watch, pondered an instant,
and promised to call in an hour.
She bowed and returned home, with an almost intolerable
weight on her heart. She sat with her face buried in her hands,
collecting her thoughts, and when summoned to meet Eugene,
went down with a firm heart, but trembling frame. It was
more than probable that she would be misconstrued and wounded,
but she determined to hazard all, knowing how pure were the
motives that actuated her. He seemed restless and ill at ease,
yet curious withal, and after some trifling commonplace remarks,
Beulah seated herself on the sofa, beside him, and said :
" Eugene, why have you shunned me so pertinaciously since
your return from Europe ? w
" I have not shunned you, Beulah; you are mistaken. I have
been eugaged, and therefore could visit but little."
" Do not imagine that any such excuses blind me to the truth,"
said she, with an impatient gesture.
" What do you mean ?" he answered, unable to bear the earn-
est, troubled look of the searching eyes.
" Oh, Eugene ! be honest be honest ! Say at once you
shunned me lest I should majk your altered habits in your altered
face. But I know it all, notwithstanding. It is no secret that
Eugeue Graham has more than once lent his presence to mid-
night carousals over the wine-cup. Once you were an example
of temperance and rectitude, but vice is fashionable, and patron-
ized iii this city, and your associates soon dragged you down
from your proud height to their degraded level. The circle in
which you move were not shocked at your fall. Ladies accus-
tomed to hear of drunken revels ceased to attach disgrace to
them, and you were welcomed and smiled upon, as though you
were all a man should be. Oh, Eugene ! I uudersiand why you
have carefully shunned one who has an unconquerable horror of
BEIJLAH. 34:3
that degradation into which you have fallen. I am your friend;
your best and mo>t disinterested friend. What do your fashion-
"able acquaintances care that your moral character is impugned,
and your fair name tarnished ? Your dissipation keeps their
brothers and lovers in countenance ; your once noble, unsullied
nature would shame their depravity. Do you remember one
brig-lit, moonlight night, about six years ago, when we sat in
Mrs. Williams' room, at the Asylum, and talked of our future ?
Then, with a soul full of pure aspirations, you said : 'Beulah, I
have written 'Excelsior' on my banner, and I intend, like that
noble youth, to press forward over every obstacle, mounting at
every step, until I too stand on the highest pinnacle, and plant
my banner where its glorious motto shall float over the world !'
1 Excelsior !' Ah, my brother, that banner trails in the dust I
Alpine heights tower far behind you, dim in the distance, and
now with another motto ' Lower still ' you are rushing down
to an awful gulf. Oh, Eugene ! do you intend to go on to utter
ruin ? Do you intend to wreck happiness, health, and charac-
ter in the sea of reckless dissipation ? Do you intend to spend
your days in disgusting intoxication ? I would you had a mother,
whose prayers might save you, or a father, whose grey hairs you
dared not dishonor, or a sister to win you back from ruin.
Oh, that you and I had never, never left the sheltering walls of
the Asylum I"
She wept bitterly, and more moved than he chose to appear,
Eugene shaded his face with his fingers. Beulah placed her
hand on his shoulder, and continued, falteringly :
" Eugene, I am not afraid to tell you the unvarnished truth.
Yea may get angry, and think it is no business of mine to coun-
sel you, who are older and master of your own fate ; but when
we were children I talked to you freely, and why should I not
now ? True friendship strengthens with years, and shall I hesi-
tate to speak to you of what gives me so much pain ? In a very
few days you are to be married; Eugene, if the wine-cup is
dearer to you than your beautiful bride, what prospect of happi-
34A BEULAH.
ness have either of ycu ? I had hoped her influence would deter
you from it, at least during her visit here; but if not then, how
can her presence avail in future ? Oh, for heaven's sake 1 for
Antoinette's, for your own, quit the ranks of ruin you are in,
and come back to temperance and honor. You are bowing
down Cornelia's proud head in humiliation and sorrow. Oh,
Eugene, have mercy on yourself 1"
He tried to look haughty and insulted, but it would not
answer. Her pale face, full of earnest, tearful entreaty, touched
his heart, not altogether indurated by profligate associations.
He knew she had not given an exaggerated account ; he had
imagined that she would not hear of his revels, but certainly she
told only the truth. Yet he resolved not to admit the charge,
and shaking off her hand, answered proudly:
" If I am the degraded character you flatteringly pronounce
me, it should certainly render my society anything but agreeable
to your fastidious taste. I shall not soon forget your unmerited
insults." He rose as he spoke.
" You are angry now, Eugene, because I have held up your
own portrait for your inspection. You are piqued because I tell
you the truth. But when all this has subsided, and you think
the matter calmly over, you will be forced to acknowledge that
only the purest friendship could prompt me to remonstrate with
you on your ruinous career. Of course, if you choose, you can
soon wreck yourself ; you are your own master, but the infatua-
tion will recoil upon you. Your disgrace and ruin will not affect
me, save that, as your friend, I should mourn your fall. Ah,
Eugene, I have risked your displeasure I have proved my
friendship !"
He took his hat and turned toward the door, but she placed
herself before it, and holding out both hands, exclaimed sorrow-
fully :
" Do not let us part in anger ! I am an orphan without rela-
tives or protectors, and from early years you have been a kind
brother. At least, let us part as friends. I know that in future
B E U L A H . 345
we shall be completely alienated, bat your friend Beulah will
always rejoice to hear of your welfare and happiness ; and if her
warning words, kindly meant, have no effect, and she hears, with
keen regret, of your final ruin, she at least will feel that she
honestly and anxiously did all in her power to save you. Good
bye. Shake hands, Eugene, and bear with you to the altar my
sincere wishes for your happiness."
She held out her hands entreatingly, but he took no notice of
the movement, and hurrying by, left the house. For a moment
Beulah bowed her head and sobbed ; then she brushed the tears
from her cheek, and the black brows met in a heavy frown.
True, she had not expected much else, yet she felt bitterly
grieved, and it was many months ere she ceased to remember
the pain of this interview ; notwithstanding the contempt, she
could not avoid feeling for his weakness.
The Grahams all accompanied Eugene, and after the marriage,
went North for the summer. A handsome house was erected
near Mr. Graham's residence, and in the fall the young people
were to take possession of it. Mr. Lockhart rallied sufficiently
to be removed to his home " up the country," and, save Dr.
Asbury's family, Beulah saw no one but Clara and her pupils.
With July came the close of the session, and the young teacher
was free again. One afternoon, she put on her bonnet and
walked to a distant section of the town, to inquire after Kate
Ellison (one of her assistant teachers), who, she happened to
hear, was quite ill. She found her even worse than she had
expected, and on offering her services to watch over the sick
girl, was anxiously requested to remain with her during the
night. She dispatched a message to Mrs. Hoyt, cheerfully laid
aside her bonnet, and took a seat near the sufferer, while the
infirm mother retired to rest. The family were very poor, and
almost entirely dependent on Kate's salary for a support. The
house was small and comfortless*; the scanty furniture, of the
plainest kind. About dusk, Beulah left her charge in a sound
sleep, and cautiously opening the blinds, seated herself on the
15*
346 B E U L A H .
window sill. The solitary candle on the table gave but a dim
light, and she sat for a long time looking out into the street and
up at the quiet, clear sky. A buggy drew up beneath the win-
dow she supposed it was the family physician. Mrs. Ellison had
not mentioned his coming, but of course it must be a physician,
and sure enough there was a knock at the door. She straight-
ened one or two chairs, picked up some articles of clothing
scattered about the floor, and opened the door.
She knew not what doctor Mrs. Ellison employed, and as her
guardian entered, she drew back with a start of surprise. She
had not seen him since the morning of Pauline's marriage, five
months before, and then he had not noticed her. Now he
stopped suddenly, looked at her a moment, and said, as if much
chagrined :
" What are you doing here, Beulah ?"
" Nursing Kate, sir. Don't talk so loud ; she is asleep,"
answered Beulah, rather frigidly.
She did not look at him, but knew his eyes were on her face,
and presently he said :
" You are always where you ought not to be. That girl has
typhus fever, and, ten to one, you will take it. In the name of
common sense ! why don't you let people take care of their own
sick, and stay at home, instead of hunting up cases like a pro-
fessed nurse ? I suppose the first confirmed case of small pox
you hear of, you will hasten to offer your services. You don't
intend to spend the night here, it is to be hoped ?"
" Her mother has been sitting up so constantly that she is
completely exhausted, and somebody must assist in nursing Kate.
I did not know that she had any contagious disease, but if she
has, I suppose I might as well run the risk as anybody else. It
is but common humanity to aid the family."
" Oh ! if you choose to risk your life, it is your own affair.
Do not imagine for an instant that I expected my advice to
weigh an iota with you."
He walked off to Kate, felt her pulse, and without waking her,
B E U L A H . 34:7
proceeded to replenish the glass of medicine on the table.
Beuluh was in no mood to obtrude herself on his attention ; she
went to the window, and stood with her back to him. She
could not tamely bear his taunting manner, yet felt that it was
out of her power to retort, for she still reverenced him. She
was surprised when he came up to her and said abruptly :
" To-day I read an article iu 'T 7 s Magazine/ called the
' Inner Life/ by ' Delta.' "
A deep crimson dyed her pale face an instant, and her lips
curled ominously, as she replied, in a would-be indifferent tone :
" Well, sir ?"
" It if not well, at all. It is very ill. It is most miserable 1"
" Well ! what do I care for the article in ' T '& Maga-
zine V " These words were jerked out, as it were, with something
like a sneer.
"You care more than you will ever be brought to confess.
Have you read this precious ' Inner Life ?' "
" Oh, yes !"
" Have you any idea who the author is ?"
" Yes, sir, I know the author ; but if it had been intended or
desired that the public should know, also, the article would never
have appeared over a fictitious signature."
This " Inner Life," which she had written for the last number
of the magazine, was an allegory, in which she boldly attempted
to disprove the truth of the fact Tennyson has so inimitably em-
bodied in " The Palace of Art," namely, that love of beauty, and
intellectual culture, cannot satisfy the God-given aspirations of
the soul. Her guardian fully comprehended the dawning, and as
yet unacknowledged dread which prompted this article, and
hastily laying his hand on her shoulder, he said :
" Ah, proud girl ! you are struggling desperately with your
heart. You, too, have reared a ' palace ' on dreary, almost
inaccessible crags ; and because already you begin to weary of
your isolation, you would fain hurl invec lives at Tennyson, who
explores your mansion, ' so royal, rich aud wide/ and discovers
348 B E U L A H .
the grim spectres that dwell with you ! You were very misera-
ble when you wrote that sketch ; you are not equal to what you
have undertaken. Child, this year of trial and loneliness has
left its impress on your face. Are you not yet willing to give np
the struggle ?"
The moon had risen, and as its light shone on her counte-
nance, he saw a fierce blaze in her eyes he had never noticed
there before. She shook off his light touch, and answered :
"No 1 I will never give up I"
He smiled, and left her.
She remained with her sick friend until sunrise the next morn-
ing, and ere she left the house, was rewarded by the assurance
that she was better. In a few days, Kate was decidedly conva-
lescent. Beulah did not take typhus fever.
CHAPTER XXVII.
THE day was sullen, stormy and dark. Grey, leaden clouds
were scourged through the sky by a howling southeastern gale,
and the lashed waters of the bay broke along the shore with a
solemn, continued boom. The rain fell drearily, and sheet light-
ning, pale and constant, gave a ghastly hue to the scudding
clouds. It was one of those lengthened storms which, during
the month of August, are so prevalent along the gulf coast.
Clara Sanders sat near a window, bending over a piece of needle-
work, while, with her hands clasped behind her, Beulah walked
up and down the floor. Their countenances contrasted vividly;
Clara's sweet, placid face, with drooped eyelids and Madonna-
like serenity; the soft, auburn hair curled about her cheeks, and
the delicate lips in peaceful rest. And Beulah ! how shall I
adequately paint the gloom and restlessness written in her stormy
B E U L A H . 34:9
countenance ? To tell you that her brow was bent and lower-
ing-, that her lips were now unsteady, and now tightly compressed,
and that her eyes were full of troubled shadows, would convey
but a faint impression of the anxious discontent which seemed to
have taken entire possession of her. Clara glanced at her,
sighed, and went on with her work ; she knew perfectly well she
was in no humor for conversation. The rain increased until it
full in torrents, and the hoarse thunder muttered a dismal accom-
paniment. It- grew too dark to see the stitches ; Clara put by
her work, and folding her hands on her lap, sat looking out into
the storm, listening to the roar of the rushing wind, as it bowed
the tree-tops and uplifted the white-capped billows of the bay.
Beulah paused beside the window, and said abruptly :
" It is typical of the individual, social, moral, and intellectual
life. Look which way you will, you find antagonistic elements
fiercely warring. There is a broken cog, somewhere, in the
machinery of this plunging globe of ours. Everything organic,
and inorganic, bears testimony to a miserable derangement.
There is not a department of earth where harmony reigns.
True, the stars are serene, and move in their everlasting orbits,
with fixed precision, but they are not of earth ; here there is
nothing definite, nothing certain. The seasons are regular, but
they are determined by other worlds. Verily, the contest is still
fiercely waged between Ormuzd and Ahriman, and the last has
tl^ best of it, so far. The three thousand years of Ahriman
seem dawning."
She resumed her walk, and looking after her anxiously, Clara
answered :
"But remember, the 'Zend-Avesta/ promises that Ormuzd
shall finally conquer, and reign supreme. In this happy king-
dom, I love to trace the resemblance to the millennium which
was shown St. John on lonely Patmos."
" It is small comfort to anticipate a time of blessedness for
future generations. What benefit is steam or telegraph to the
moldering mammies of the catacombs ? I want to know what
350 BEUL^fl.
good the millennium will do you and me, when our dust is
mingled with mother earth, in some silent necropolis ?"
" Oh, Beulah { what ails you to-day ? You look so gloomy
and wretched. It seems to me, you have changed sadly of late.
I knew that a life of labor, such as you voluntarily assumed,
would chasten your spirit, but I did not expect this utter revolu-
tion of your nature so soon. Oh, have done with skepticism 1"
" Faith in creeds is not to be put on and laid aside at will,
like a garment. Granted that these same doctrines of Zoroaster
are faint adumbrations of the Hebrew creed, the Gordian knot
is by no means loosed. That prologue in Faust horrified you
yesterday; yet, upon my word, I don't see why ; for very evidently
it is taken from Job, and Faust is but an ideal Job, tempted in
more subtle manner than by the loss of flocks, houses and child-
ren. You believe that Satan was allowed to do his utmost to
ruin Job, and Mephistopheles certainly set out on the same
fiendish mission. Mephistopheles is not the defiant demon of
Milton, but a powerful prince in the service of God. You need
not shudder ; I am giving no partial account, I merely repeat
the opinion of many on this subject. It is all the same to me.
Evil exists : that is the grim fact. As to its origin ; I would
about as soon set off to search for the city Asgard."
" Still, I would not give my faith for all your learning and
philosophy. See what it has brought you to," answered Clara,
sorrowfully.
"Your faith ! what does it teach you of this evil principle?"
retorted Beulah, impatiently.
" At least, more than all speculation has taught you. You
admit, that of its origin you know nothing ; the Bible tells me,
that time was when earth was sinless, and man holy, and that
death and sin entered the world by man's transgression "
" Which I don't believe," interrupted Beulah.
" So you might sit there and stop your ears, and close your
eyes, and assert that this was a sunny, serene day. Your recep*
tion, or rejection of the Biblical record, by no means affects its
r. E u L A ii . 351
authenticity. My faith teaches that the evil you so bitterly
deprecate is not eternal ; shall finally be crushed, and the har-
mony you crave, pervade all realms. Why an All-wise, and
All-powerful God, suffers evil to exist, is not for his finite crea-
tures to determine. It is one of many mysteries, which it is as
utterly useless to bother over as to weave ropes of sand."
She gathered up her sewing materials, put them in her basket,
and retired to her own room. Beulah felt relieved when the
door closed behind her, and taking up Theodore Parker's " Dis-
courses," began to read. Poor famishing soul ! what chaff she
eagerly devoured. In her anxious haste, she paused not to per-
ceive that the attempted refutations of Christianity contained
objections more gross and incomprehensible than the doctrine
assailed. Long before, she had arrived at the conclusion, that
ethical and theological truth must be firmly established on
psychological foundations, hence she plunged into metaphysics,
studying treatise after treatise, and system after system. To her
grievous disappointment, however, the psychology of each
seemed different, nay opposed. She set out believing her " con-
sciousness " the infallible criterion of truth ; this she fancied
philosophy taught, at least professed to teach ; but instead of
unanimity among metaphysicians, she found fierce denunciation
of predecessors, ingenious refutations of principles, which they
had evolved from rigid analysis of the facts of consciousness,
and an intolerant dogmatism which astonished and confused her.
One extolled Locke as an oracle of wisdom ; another ridiculed
the shallowness of his investigations and the absurdity of his
doctrines ; while a third, showed conclusively, that Locke's assail-
ant knew nothing at all of what he wrote, and maintained that
he alone could set matters right. She studied Locke for her-
self. Either he was right, and all the others were wrong, or else
there was no truth in any. Another philosopher professed to
ground some points of his faith on certain principles of Des-
cartes ; the very next work she read, proclaimed that Descartes
never held any such principles, that the writer had altogether
352 BEULAH.
mistaken his views ; whereupon up started another, who
informed her that nobody knew what Descartes really did
believe on the subject under discussion ; that it was a mooted
question among his disciples. This was rather discouraging,
but, nothing daunted, she bought, borrowed and read on.
Brown's descent upon Eeid greatly interested her ; true, there
were very many things she could not assent to, yet the argu-
ments seemed plausible enough, when lo! a metaphysical giant
rescues Reid ; tells her that Brown was an ignoramus ; utterly
misunderstood the theory he set himself to criticise, and was a
wretched bungler ; after which he proceeds to show that
although Brown had not acumen enough to perceive it, Reid had
himself fallen into grave errors, and culpable obscurity. Who
was right, or who was wrong, she could not for her life decide.
It would have been farcical, indeed, had she not been so
anxiously in earnest. Beginning to distrust herself, and with a
dawning dread lest, after all, psychology would prove an incom-
petent guide, she put by the philosophies themselves and
betook herself to histories of philosophy, fancying that here all
bitter invective would be laid aside, and stern impartiality pre-
vail. Here the evil she fled from increased fourfold. One
historian of philosophy (who was a great favorite of her guard-
ian) having lost all confidence in the subjects he treated, set
himself to work to show the fallacy of all systems, from Anaxi-
mauder to Cousin. She found the historians of philosophy as
much at variance as the philosophers themselves, and looked
with dismay into the dim land of vagaries, into which metaphy-
sics had drawn the brightest minds of the past. Then lior
guardian's favorite quotation recurred to her with painful signi-
ficance : " There is no criterion of truth ; all is merely subjec-
tive truth." It was the old skeptical palladium, ancient as
metaphysics. She began to despair of the truth in this direc-
tion ; but, it certainly existed somewhere. She commenced the
study of Cousin with trembling eagerness ; if at all, she would
surely find in a harmonious " Eclecticism," the absolute truth
BETJLAH. 353
she had chased through so many metaphysical doublings.
" Eclecticism " would cnll for her the results of all search and
reasoning. For a time, she believed she had indeed found a
resting-place; his "true" satisfied her ; his "beautiful" fasci-
nated her ; but when she came to examine his " Theodicea,"
and trace its results, she shrank back appalled. She was not
yet prepared to embrace his subtle pantheism. Thus far had her
sincere inquiries and efforts brought her. It was no wonder her
hopeful nature grew bitter and cynical ; no wonder her brow
was bent with puzzled thought, and her pale face haggard and
joyless. Sick of systems, she began to search her own soul ;
did the very tiling of all others best calculated to harass her
mind and fill it with inexplicable mysteries. She constituted
her own reason the sole judge; and then, dubious of the verdict,
arraigned reason itself before itself. Now began the desperate
struggle. Alone and unaided, she wrestled with some of the
grimest doubts that can assail a human soul. The very preva-
lence of her own doubts augmented the difficulty. On every side
she saw the footprints of skepticism ; in history, essays, novels,
poems, and reviews. Still, her indomitable will maintained the
conflict. Her hopes, aims, energies, all centred in this momen-
tous struggle. She studied over these world-problems until her
eyes grew dim, and the veins on her brow swelled like cords.
Often, grey dawn looked in upon her, still sitting before her desk,
with u sickly, waning lamp-light gleaming over her pallid face.
And to-day, as she looked out on the flying clouds, and listened
to the mournful wail of the rushing gale, she seemed to stand
upon the verge of a yawning chaos. What did she believe ?
She knew not. Old faiths had crumbled away she stood in a
dreary waste, strewn with the wreck of creeds and systems ; a
silent desolation ! And with Richter's Christ she exclaimed :
" Oh ! how is each so solitary in this wide grave of the All ? I
am alone with myself. Oh, Father I oh, Father, where is thy
infinite bosom, that I might rest on it ?" A belief in something
she must have ; it was an absolute necessity of the soul. There
354 BEULAH.
was no scoffing tendency in her skepticism ; she could not jest
over the solemn issues involved, and stood wondering which way
she should next journey after this " pearl of great price." It
was well for her that garlands of rhetoric and glittering logic
lay over the pitfalls before her j for there were unsounded abysses,
darker than any she had yet endeavored to fathom. Clara
came back, and softly laid her hand on her friend's arm.
" Please put up your book, and sing something for me, won't you?"
Beulah looked at the serene countenance, so full of resignation,
and answered, gloomily :
" What ! are you, too, tired of listening to this storm-anthem
nature has treated us to for the last two days ? It seems to me
the very universe, animate and inanimate, is indulging in an
uncontrollable fit of the ' blues.' One would almost think the
dead-march was being played up and down the aisles of creation."
She pressed her hands to her hot brow, as if to wipe away
the cobwebs that dimmed her vision, and raising the lid of the
piano, ran her fingers over the keys.
" Sing me something hopeful and heart-cheering," said Clara.
" I have no songs of that description."
" Yes, you have : ' Look Aloft,' and the ' Psalm of Life.' "
" No, no. Impossible. I could not sing either now," replied
Beulah, averting her face.
"Why not now? They are the excelsior strains of struggling
pilgrims. They were written for the dark hours of life."
" They are a mockery to me. Ask me for anything else," said
she, compressing her lips.
Clara leaned her arm on the piano, and looking sadly at her
companion, said, as if with a painful effort:
"Beulah, in a little while we shall be separated, and only the
All-Father knows whether we shall meet on earth again. My
application for that situation as governess, up the country,
brought me an answer to-day. I am to go very soon."
Beulah made no reply, and Clara continued, sorrowfully:
" It is very painful to leave my few remaining friends, and go
BEULAH. 355
among perfect strangers, but it is best that I should." She
leaned her head on her hand, and wept.
"Why is it best?"
" Because here I am constantly reminded of other days, and
other hopes, now lying dead on my heart. But we will not
speak of this. Of all my ties here, my love for you is now the
strongest. Oh, Beulah, our friendship has been sacred, and I
dread the loneliness which will be my portion when hundreds of
miles lay between us! The links that bind orphan hearts like
ours are more lasting than all others."
" I shall be left entirely alone, if you accept this situation.
You have long been my only companion. Don't leave me,
Clara," murmured Beulah, while her lips writhed and quivered.
" You will have the Asburys still, and they are sincere friends "
"Yes, friends, but not companions. What congeniality is
there between those girls and myself? None. My isolation
will be complete when you leave me."
"Beulah, will you let me say what is in my heart ?"
" Say it freely, my brown-eyed darling."
" Well then, Beulah; give it up; give it up. It will only bow
down your heart with untold cares and sorrows."
" Give up what ?"
" This combat with loneliness and poverty."
" I am not lonely," answered Beulah, with a wintry smile.
"Oh, Beulah! yes, you are; wretchedly lonely. I have been
but a poor companion for you; intellectually, you are far beyond
me, and there has been little congeniality in our tastes and pur-
suits. I have always know this ; and I know, too, that you
never will be a happy woman, until you have a companion equal
in intellect, who understands and sympathizes with you. Ah,
Beulah! with all your stubborn pride, and will, and mental
endowments, you have a woman's heart; and crush its impulses
as you may, it will yet assert its sway. As I told you long ago,
grammars, and geographies, and duty, could not fill the void in
my heart; and believe me, neither will metaphysics, and philo-
356 BEULAH.
sophy, and literature, satisfy you. Suppose you do attain cele-
brity as a writer. Can the plaudits of strangers bring back to
your solitary hearth the loved dead, or cheer you in your hours
of gloom ? I too am an orphan; I speak of what I can appre-
ciate. You are mistaken, Beulah, in thinking you can dispense
with sympathy. You are not sufficient for yourself, as you have
so proudly maintained. God has created us for companionship;
it is a necessity of human nature."
" Then why are you and I orphaned for all time V 1 asked
Beulah, coldly.
" The sablest clouds of sorrow have silver linings. Perhaps
that you and I might turn more continually to the God of
orphans. Beulah, God has not flooded earth with eternal sun-
light. He knew that shadows were needed to chasten the spirits
of his children, and teach them to look to him for the renewal
of all blessings. But shadows are fleeting, and every season of
gloom has its morning star. Oh, I thank God that his own
hand arranged the chiaroscuro of earth!' 1 She spoke earnestly;
the expression of her eyes told that her thoughts had travelled
into the dim, weird land of futurity. Beulah offered no com-
ment, but the gloom deepened on her brow, and her white
fingers crept restlessly over the piano keys. After a moment's
silence, Clara continued :
" I would not regret our separation so much, if I left you in
the possession of Christian faith; armed with a perfect trust in
the religion of Jesus Christ. Oh, Beuiah, it makes my heart
ache when I think of you, struggling so fiercely in the grasp of
infidelity! Many times have I seen the light shining beneath
your door, long after midnight, and wept over the conflict in
which I knew you were engaged ; and only God knows how
often I have mingled your name in my prayers, entreating Him
to direct you in your search, to guide you safely through the
paths of skepticism, and place your weary feet upon the ' rock of
ages/ Oh, Beulah, do not make my prayers vain by your con-
tinued quest ; oning! Come back to Christ, and the Bible"
BEULAH. 357
Tears glided down her cheeks as she passed her arm round her
friend, and dropped her head on her shoulder. Beulah's eyelids
trembled an instant, but there was no moisture in the grey
depths, as she answered :
" Thank you, Clara, for your interest. I am glad you have
this faith you would fain lead me to. Not for worlds would I
unsettle it, even if I could. You are comforted in your religion,
and it is a priceless blessing to you. But I am sincere, even in
niy skepticism. I am honest; and God, if he sees my heart,
sees that I am. I may be an infidel, as you call me, but, if so,
I am an honest one; and if the Bible is all true, as you believe,
God will judge my heart. But I shall not always be skeptical;
I shall find the truth yet. I know it is a tedious journey I have
set out on, and it may be my life will be spent in the search, but
what of that, if at last I attain the goal ? What if I only live
to reach it ? What will my life be to me without it ?"
" And can you contentedly contemplate your future, passed as
this last year has been P cried Clara.
" Perhaps ' contentedly ' is scarcely the right terra. I shall
not murmur, no matter how dreary the circumstances of my life
may be, provided I succeed at last," replied Beulah, resolutely.
" Oh, Beulah, you make my heart ache I"
" Then try not to think of or care for me."
" There is another heart, dear Beulah, a heart sad, but noble,
that you are causing bitter anguish. Are you utterly indifferent
to this also ?"
" All of the last exists merely in your imagination. We will
say no more about it, if you please."
She immediately began a brilliant overture, and Clara retreated
to the window. With night the roar of the tempest increased ;
the rain fell with a dull, uninterrupted patter, the gale swept
furiously on, and the heaving, foaming waters of the bay gleamed
luridly beneath the sheet-lightning. Clara stood looking out,
and before long Beulah joined her ; then the former said, sud-
denly :
358 BEULAH.
" Do you remember, that about six years ago, a storm like
this tossed the Morning Star far from its destined track, and for
many days it was uuheard of ? Do you remember, too, that it
held one you loved ; and that in an agony of dread, lest he
should find a grave among coral beds, you bowed your knee in
prayer to Almighty God, imploring him to calm the tempest,
hush the gale, and save him who was so dear to you ? Ah,
Beulah, you distrusted human pilots then."
As Beulah made no reply, she fancied she was pondering her
words. But memory had flown back to the hour when she knelt
in prayer for Eugene, and she thought she could far better have
borne his death then, in the glorious springtime of his youth, than
know that he had fallen from his noble height. Then she could
have mourned his loss, and cherished his memory ever after; now
she could only pity and despise his folly. What was that early
shipwreck she so much dreaded, in comparison with the sea of
vice, whose every wave tossed him helplessly on to ruin. He
had left her, an earnest believer in religion ; he came back scoff-
ing at everything sacred. This much she had learned from
Cornelia. Was there an intimate connection between the revo-
lutions in his nature ? Misled by her silence, Clara said,
eagerly:
" You were happy in that early faith. Oh, Beulah, you will
never find another so holy, so comforting 1"
Beulah frowned, and looked up impatiently.
" Clara, I am not to be persuaded into anything. Leave me
to myself. You are kind, but mistaken."
" If I have said too much, forgive me ; I was actuated by sin-
cere affection, and pity for your state of mind."
" I am not an object of pity by any means," replied Beulah,
very coldly.
Clara was unfortunate in her expressions ; she seemed to think
so, and turned away ; but, conscious of having spoken hastily,
Beulah caught her hand, and exclaimed frankly :
" Do not be hurt with me ; I did not intend to wound you.
BE TIL AH. 359
Forgive me, Clara. Don't go. When are you to leave for your
new home ?"
" Day after to-morrow. Mr. Arlington seems anxious that I
should come immediately. He has three children ; a son and
two daughters. I hope they are amiable ; I dread lest they
prove unruly and spoiled. If so, woe to their governess."
" Does Mr. Arlington reside in the village to which you direct-
ed your letter ?"
" No ; he resides on his plantation, several miles from the
village. The prospect of being in the country is the only redeem-
ing feature in the arrangement. I hope my health will be per-
manently restored by the change ; but of the success of my plan,
only time can decide."
" And when shall we meet again ?" said Beulah, slowly.
"Perhaps, henceforth, our paths diverge widely. We may
meet no more on earth ; but, dear Beulah, there is a 'peaceful
shore, where billows never beat nor tempests rofr,' where assur-
edly we shall spend an eternity together if we keep the faith
here. Oh, if I thought our parting now was for all time, I
should mourn bitterly, very bitterly ; but I will not believe it.
The arms of our God support you. I shall always pray that he
will guide and save you." She leaned forward, kissed Beulah's
forehead, and left the room.
CHAPTER XXVIII.
ONE afternoon in October, the indisposition of one of her
music pupils released Beulah earlier than usual, and she deter-
mined to seize this opportunity and visit the Asylum. Of the
walk across the common, she never weaned ; the grass had
grown brown, and, save the deep, changeless green of the
ancient pines, only the hectic coloring of the dying year met her
360 . BE TIL AH.
eye. The day was cool and windy, and the common presented a
scene of boisterous confusion, which she paused to contemplate.
A number of boys had collected to play their favorite games ;
balls flew in every direction, and merry shouts rang cheerily
through the air. She looked on a few moments at their care-
less, happy sports, and resumed her walk, feeling that their
joyousness was certainly contagious, she was so much lighter-
hearted from having watched their beaming faces, and listened
to their ringing laughter.
As she" drew near the Asylum gate, memory began to pass its
fingers over her heart j but here, too, sounds of gladness met
her. The orphans were assembled on the lawn in front of the
building, chatting as cheerfully as though they were all members
of one family. The little ones trundled hoops, and chased each
other up and down the gravelled walks; some of the boys tossed
their balls, and a few of the larger girls were tying up chrysan-
themums to stender stakes. They were dressed alike; all looked
contented, neat and happy, and their rosy faces presented a
noble tribute to the efficacy and untold blessings of the institu-
tion. To many of them Beulah was well known; she threw off
her bonnet and shawl, and assisted the girls in their work among
the flowers, while the little ones gathered around her, lisping
their childish welcome and coaxing her to join in their innocent
games. The stately China trees, where, in years gone by, Lilly
and Claudy had watched the chirping robins, were again clad in
their rich, golden livery; and as Beulah looked up at the red brick
walls, that had sheltered her head in the early days o orphan-
age, it seemed but yesterday that she trod these walks and
listened to the wintry wind sighing through these same loved
trees. The children told her that their matron had been sick
and was not yet quite well, and needing no pilot, Beulah went
through the house in search of her. She found her at last in
the store-room, giving out materials for the evening meal, and
had an opportunity of observing the change which had taken
place in the last few months. She was pale and thin, and her
B E U L A H . 361
t
sharpened features wore a depressed, weary expression ; but,
turning round, she perceived Beulah, and a glad smile broke
instantly over her countenance, as she clasped the girl's hand in
both hers.
" Dear child, I have looked for you a long time. I did not
think you would wait so many weeks. Come in and sit down."
" I did not know you had been sick until I came and heard
the children speak of it. You should have sent me word. I see
you have not entirely recovered."
" No, I am quite feeble yet ; but in time, I hope I shall be
well again. Ah, Beulah, I have wanted to see you so much !
so much! Child, it seems to me I shall never get used to being
separated from you."
Beulah sat on the sofa near her, and the matron's withered
hands were passed caressingly over the glossy bands of hair
which lay on the orphan's white temples.
" I love to come here occasionally ; it does me good; but not
too often ; that would be painful, you know."
Beulah spoke in a subdued voice, while memory painted the
evening when Eugene had sought her in this apartment, and
wiped away her tears for Lilly's absence. Her features twitched,
as she thought of the bitter changes that rolling years work,
and she sighed unconsciously. The matron's hands were still
smoothing her hair, and presently she said, with an anxious,
scrutinizing look :
" Have you been sick since you were here last ?"
" No. What makes you imagine such a thing ?"
" Dear child, I do not imagine; I know you look worn and ill.
Why, Beulah, hold up your hand ; there, see how transparent
it is ! Almost like wax ! Something ails you, child ; that I
know well enough."
11 No, I assure you, I am not ill. Sometimes, of late, I have
been troubled with the old headaches you used to cure, when I
was a child; but, on the whole, I am well."
"Beulah, they tell me Eugene is married," said the kind-
16
362 BEULAH.
v
hearted woman, with another look at the quiet face beside
her.
" Yes, he was married nearly five months ago." A tremor
passed over her lips as she spoke.
" Bid you see his wife ?"
" Yes ; she is a very pretty woman. I may say a beautiful
woman ; but she does not suit him. At least, I am afraid she
will not."
"Ah, I knew as much! I thought as much!" cried Mrs.
Williams.
" Why ?" asked Beulah, wonderingly.
" Oh, money cloaks all faults, child. I knew he did not
marry her for love !"
Beulah started a little, and said hastily :
" You do him injustice great injustice ! Eugene was charmed
by her beauty, not her fortune."
" Oh, heiresses are always beautiful and charming in the
eyes of the world ! Beulah, do you know that I watched for
Eugene, for days, and weeks, and months, after his return from
Europe ? I wanted to see him oh, so much ! I loved you
both as though you were my own children. I was so proud of
that boy I I had raised him from a crawling infant, and never
dreamed that he would forget me. But he did not come. I
have not seen him since he left, six years ago, for Germany.
Oh, the boy has pained me pained me ! I loved him so
much 1"
Beulah's brow clouded heavily, as she said :
" It is better so better that you should not see him. He is
not what he was when he quitted us."
"Is it true, then, that he drinks that he is wild and dissi-
.pated ? I heard it once, but would not believe it. Oh, it can't
be that Eugene drinks ?"
" Yes, he drinks not to stupid intoxication, but too freely
for his health and character. He does not look like himself
now."
BEULAH. 363
Mrs. Williams bowed down her head, and wept bitterly, while
Bculah continued, sorrowfully :
" His adoption was his ruin. Ilad he remained dependent on
his individual exertions, he would have grown up an honor to
himself and his friends. But Mr. Graham is considered very
wealthy, and Eugene weakly desisted from the honest labor
which was his duty. His fashionable associates have ruined him.
In Europe he learned to drink, and here his companions dragged
him constantly into scenes of dissipation. But I do not despair
of him yet. It may be long before he awakens from this infatua-
tion, but I trust he will yet reform. I cannot bear to think of
him as a confirmed drunkard ! Oh, no ! no ! I may be wrong,
but I still hope that his nobler nature will conquer."
" God help the boy ! I have prayed for him for years, and I
shall pray for him still, though he has forgotten me."
She sobbed, and covered her face with her apron. A joyless
smile flitted over BeulahAs fixed, grave features, as she said,
encouragingly :
" He will come to see you when he returns from the North.
He has not forgotten you that is impossible. Like me, he owes
you too much."
" I shall leave here, very soon," said Mrs. Williams, wiping
her eyes.
" Leave the Asylum ! for what ?"
" I am getting old, child, and my health is none of the best.
The duties are very heavy here, and I am not willing to occupy
the position, unless I could discharge all the duties faithfully. I
have sent in my resignation to the managers, and as soon as
they succeed in getting another matron, I shall leave the Asy-
lum. I am sorry to be obliged to go ; I have been here so long,
that I am very much attached to the place and the children.
But I am not able to do what I have done, and I know it is
right that I should give up the position."
" What are you going to do ?"
" I have means enough to live plainly the remainder of my
364: BEULAH.
life. I intend to rent or buy a small house, and settle down, and
be quiet. I feel now as if I should like to spend my days in
peace."
" Do you intend to live alone ?"
" Yes, child; except a servant, I suppose I shall be quite alone.
But you will come to see me often, and perhaps Eugene will
remember me, some day, when he is in trouble."
" No, I shall not come to see you at all ! I mean to come
and live with you that is, if I may ?" cried Beulah, springing
up, and laying her hand on the matron's.
" God bless you, dear child, how glad I shall be !" She
wound her arms round the slender form, and laughed through
her tears.
Beulah gently put back the grey locks that had fallen from
the border of her cap, and said hopefully :
" I am sick of boarding sick of town 1 Let us get a nice
little house, where I can walk in and out to my school. Have
you selected any particular place ?"
" No. I have looked at two or three, but none suited me
exactly. Now you can help me. I am so thankful you are
going to be with me. Will you come as soon as I can be
released here ?"
" Yes, just as soon as you are ready for me ; and I think I
know a house for rent which will just suit us. Now, I want it
understood that I am to pay the rent."
" Oh, no, child ! I won't hear to it, for 1 am"
" Very well, then ; I will stay where I am."
" Oh, Beulah ! you are not in earnest ?"
" Yes, I am ; so say no more about it. I will come on no
other condition. I will see the owner of the house, ascertain
what I can obtain it for, and send you word. Then you can
look at it, and decide "
" I am quite willing to trust it to you, child ; only I can't
bear the thought of your paying the rent for it. But we can
arrange that afterward."
BEULAR. 365
" No, you must be perfectly satisfied with the house. I will
go by this evening and find out about it, so as to let you know
at once. Have you any idea when the ' board ' will procure
another matron ?"
" They have advertised, and several persons applied, I believe,
but they were not exactly pleased with the applicants. I sup-
pose, however, that in a few days they will find a substitute for
me."
" Well, be sure you get a good servant, and now I must go."
She put ou her bonnet and shawl with unwonted haste, and
ran down the steps. In her frequent walks, she had noticed
two cottages in course of erection, not very far from the pine
grove in front of the Asylum, and now crossing the common, she
directed her steps toward them. The lots were small, and
belonged to Dr. Asbury, who said he would build a couple of
cottages for poor families to rent at cheap rates. As Beulah
approached the houses, she saw the doctor's buggy standing
near the door, and thinking it a good omen, quickened her steps.
Each building contained only three rooms and a hall, with
a gallery, or rather portico in front. They were genuine
cottages ornc, built after Downing's plans, and presented a taste-
ful, inviting appearance. The windows were arched, and the
wood-work elaborately carved. Beulah pushed open the freshly
painted gate, ran up the steps, and into the hall. The carpen-
ters were sj,ill at work in the kitchen, and as she conjectured,
here she found her friend, giving some final directions. She
looked round the snug little kitchen, and walking up to Dr.
Asbury, who stood with his back to the door, she shook his
hand, with a cheerful salutation.
" Halloo, Beulah ! where did yon drop from ? glad to see
you. Glad to see you. How came you prying into my new
houses ? Answer me that ! Did you see my spouse as you came
through the hall ?"
" No, I will go back and hunt for her "
" You need not ; there she comes down the steps of the house.
366 .. BEULAH.
She would insist on seeing about some shelves for this precious
kitchen ; thinks I am bound to put pantries, and closets, and
shelves, all over the house, for my future tenants. I suppose
before the first poor family take possession, I shall be expected
to fill the closet with table-linen and cutlery, and the larder
with sugar, flour, and wax candles. Look here, Mrs. Asbury,
how many more shelves is this kitchen to have ?"
" It is well she has a conscience, sir, since nature denied you
one/ 7 answered Beulah, whom Mrs. Asbury received very affec-
tionately.
" Conscience ! Bless my soul ! she has none, as regards my
unlucky purse. Positively, she wanted to know, just now, if I
would not have that little patch of ground between the house
and the paling, laid off into beds ; and if I would not plant a
few rose-bushes and vines, for the first rascally set of children
to tear up by the roots, just as soon as their parents moved in.
There's conscience for you with a vengeance."
" And what did you say, sir ?"
'* What did I say ? why just what every other meek hus-
band says to appeals which * won't cost much, you know.' Of
course I had no opinion of my own. Madame, here, is infallible;
so I am put down for maybe a hundred dollars more. You need
not have asked the result, you true daughter of Eve ; every-
one of you understand wheedling. Those two mischievous imps
of mine are almost as great adepts as their mother. Hey,
Beulah, no whispering there ! You look as wise as an owl.
What am I to do next ? Paper the walls, and fresco the ceil-
ings ? Out with it."
" I want to ask, sir, how much rent your conscience will
allow you to demand for this pigeon-box of a house ?"
" Well, I had an idea of asking two hundred dollars for it.
Cheap enough at that. You may have it for two hundred,"
said he, with a good-humored nod toward Beulah.
"Very well, I will take it at that, provided Mrs. Williams
likes it as well as I do. In a day or two I will determine."
BETJLAII. 367
" In the name of common sense, Beulah, what freak is this ?"
said the doctor, looking at her with astonishment.
" I am going to live with the matron of the Asylum, whom
you know very well. I think this house will suit us exactly, and
the rent suits my purse far better than a larger building would.
I am tired of boarding. I want a little home of my own, where,
when the labors of school are over, I can feel at ease. The
walk, twice a day, will benefit me, I feel assured. You need not
look so dismal and perplexed, I will make a capital tenant.
Your door-facings shan't be pencil-marked ; your windows shan't
be broken, nor your gate swung off its hinges. As for those
flowers you are so anxious to plant, and that patch of ground
you are so much interested in, it shall blossom like the plain of
Sharon."
He looked at her wistfully ; took off his spectacles, wiped
them with the end of his coat, and said, dubiously :
" What does Hartwell think of this project ?"
" I have not consulted him."
" The plain English of which is, that whether he approves or
condemns, you are determined to carry out this new plan ? Take
care, Beulah ; remember the old adage about ' cutting off your
nose to spite your face.' "
" Rather mal apropos, Dr. Asbury," said she, indifferently.
" I am an old man, Beulah, and know something of life and
the world."
" Nay, George : why dissuade her from this plan ? If she
prefers this quiet little home, to the confinement and bustle of a
boarding-house, if she thinks she would be happier here with
Mrs. Williams, than in the heart of the city, why should not she
come ? Suffer her to judge for herself. I am disposed to
applaud her choice," interrupted Mrs. Asbury.
" Alice, do you suppose she will be satisfied to bury herself
out here, with an infirm old woman for a companion ? Here she
must have an early breakfast ; trudge through rain and cold
into town ; teach stupid little brats till evening ; then listen to
368 BEULAH.
others equally stupid, thrum over music lessons, and at last, tired
out, drag herself back here about dark, when it is too late to
sec whether her garden is a cotton patch or a peach orchard !
Will you please to tell me what enjoyment there is for one of
her temperament in such a tread-mill existence ?"
" Your picture is all shadow, George; and even if it were not,
she is the best judge of what will promote her happiness. Do
not discourage her. Ah, humble as the place is, I know how
her heart. aches for a spot she can call 'home.' These three
rooms will be a haven of rest for her when the day is done.
My dear Beulah, I trust you may be very happy here, or
wherever you decide to live ; you deserve to be.' 7
" Thank you, madam, for your friendly sympathy. I am glad
you approve my design."
" Well, well ; if you soon weary of this freak you can easily
give up the house, that is all. .Now, Beulah, if you determine
to take it, rest assured I will gladly make any additions or
alterations you may suggest. I dare say I shall like you for a
tenant. But see here, Mrs. Asbury, I have patients to look
after. Please to remember that I am a professional character,
consequently can call no moment my own. What ! another
row of shelves round that side ? This building houses for rent
is a ruinous speculation 1 Come, it is too late now to go over
the rooms again ; to-morrow will do as well. Beulah, are you
going to play cook, too ?"
" No, indeed ! Mrs. Williams will find us a servant. Good
bye. I will decide about the house as soon as possible."
The following day she dispatched a note to the matron, with
information concerning the house ; and at the close of the week
all arrangements were completed, so that they might take pos-
session as soon as a new matron was secured. Thus the last of
October glided swiftly away, and one cold, clear day in Novem-
ber, Beulah was notified that Mrs. Williams was comfortably
settled in the new home. She went to school as usual, and
when the recitations were ended, started out with a glad heart
BEtJLAH. 369
and springing step. In half an hour she reached the little
white gate, and found Mrs. Williams waiting there to welcome
her. Everything was new and neat ; the tastefully selected car-
pets were not tapestry, but cheap ingrain ; the snowy curtains
were of plain dimity, with rose-colored borders, and the tea-
table held, instead of costly Sevres, simple white china, with a
baud of gilt. A bright fire crackled and glowed in the chimney,
and as Beulah stood on the hearth, and glanced round the com-
fortable little room, which was to be both parlor and dining-
room, she felt her heart thrill with delight, and exclaimed :
" This is home 1 at last I feel that I have a home of my own.
Not the Rothchilds, in their palaces, are so happy as 1 1"
For years she had been a wanderer, with no hearthstone, and
now for the first time since her father's death she was at home.
Not the home of adoption ; nor the cheerless room of a board-
ing-house, but the 'humble home which labor and rigid economy
had earned for her. Her heart bounded with joy ; an unwonted
glow suffused her cheeks, and her parted lips trembled. The
evening passed quickly, and when she retired to her own room
she was surprised to find a handsome rosewood book case and
desk occupying one corner. She opened the glass doors and
saw her books carefully arranged on the shelves. Could her
guardian have sent it ? No, since her refusal of the watch, she
felt sure he would not have offered it. A small note lay on the
shelf and recognizing the delicate hand-writing, she read the
lines, containing these words :
" BEULAH : Accept the accompanying case and desk, as a slight testi-
mony of the affection of
" Your sincere friend,
"ALICE ASBURY."
Tears sprang into her eyes as she opened the desk and dis-
covered an elegant pen and pencil, and every convenience
connected with writing. Turning away, she saw beside the
fire, a large, deep easy-chair, cushioned with purple morocco,
16*
370 B E u L A H .
and knew it was exactly like one she bad often seen in Dr.
Asbury's library. On the back was pinned a narrow slip of
paper, and she read, in the doctor's scrawling, quaint writing :
" Child, don't be too proud to use it. 7 '
She was not ; throwing herself into the luxurious chair, she
broke the seal of a letter received that day from Pauline Morti-
mor. Once before, soon after her marriage, a few lines of guy
greeting had come, and then many months had elapsed. As she
unfolded the sheet, she saw, with sorrow, that in several places,
it was blotted with tears ; and the contents, written in a paroxysm
of passion, disclosed a state of wretchedness which Beulah little
suspected. Pauline's impulsive, fitful nature, was clearly indexed
in the letter, and after a brief apology for her long silence, she
wrote as follows :
" Oh, Beulah, I am so miserable ; so very, very wretched !
Beulah, Ernest does not love me ! You will scarcely believe me.
Oh, I hardly know how to believe it myself ! Uncle Guy was
right ; I do not suit Ernest ; but I loved him so very, very
dearly ; and thought him so devoted to me. Fool that I was !
my eyes are opened at last. Beulah, it nearly drives me wild, to
think that I am bound to him for life, an unloved wife. Not a
year has passed since our marriage, yet already he has tired of
my ' pretty face.' Oh, Beulah, if I could only come to you, and
put my arms round your neck, and lay my poor weary head
down on your shoulder, then I could tell you all "
Here several sentences were illegible from tears, and she could
only read what followed.
" Since yesterday morning, Ernest has not spoken to me. While
I write, he is sitting in the next room, reading, as cold, indiffer-
ent and calm as if I were not perfectly wretched. He is tyran-
nical ; and because I do not humor all his whims, and have some
will of my own, he treats me with insulting indifference. He is
angry now, because I resented some of his father's impertinent
speeches about my dress. This is not the first, nor the second
BEULAH. 371
time that we have quarrelled. He has an old maid sister, who is
forever meddling about my affairs, and sneering at my domestic
arrangements ; and because I finally told her I believed I was
mistress of my own house, Ernest has never forgiven me. Ellen
(the sister I loved, and went to school with) has married, and
moved to a distant part of the State. The other members of his
family are bigoted, proud and parsimonious, and they have chiefly
made the breach between us. Oh, Beulah, if I could only undo
the past, and be Pauline Chilton once more ! Oh, if I could be
free and happy again ! But there is no prospect of that. I am
his wife, as he told me yesterday, and suppose I must drag out a
miserable existence. Yet I will not be trampled on by his family I
His sister spends much of her time with us ; reads to Ernest ;
talks to him about things that she glories in telling me I don't
understand the first word of. Beulah, I was anxious to study,
and make myself a companion for him, but, try as I may, Lucy
contrives always to fret and thwart me. Two days ago, she
nearly drove me beside myself, with her sneers and allusions to
my great mental inferiority to Ernest (as if I were not often
enough painfully reminded of the fact, without any of her assist-
ance !) I know I should not have said it, but I was too angry
to think of propriety, and told her that her presence in my home
was very disagreable. Oh, if you could have seen her insulting
smile, as she answered, that her ' noble brother needed her, and
she felt it a duty to remain with him.' Beulah, I love my hus-
band ; I would do anything on earth to make him happy, if we
were left to ourselves, but as to submitting to Lucy's arrogance
and sneers, I will not ! Ernest requires me to apologize to his
father and sister, and I told him I would not I I would die first !
He does not love me, or he would shield me from such trials. He
thinks his sister is perfection, and I tell you I do absolutely detest
her. Now, Beulah, there is no one else to whom I would men-
tion my unhappiness. Mother does not suspect it, and never
shall, even when she visits me. Uncle Guy predicted it, and I
would not have him know it for the universe. But I can trust
372 BEULAH.
you ; I feel that you will sympathize with me, and I want you to
counsel me. Oh, tell me what I ought to do to rid myself of
this tormenting sister-in-law and father-in-law, and I may say, all
Ernest's kin. Sometimes, when I think of the future, I absolutely
shudder ; for if matters go on this way much longer, I shall
learn to hate my husband too. He knew my disposition before
he married me, and has no right to treat me as he does. If it
were only Ernest, I could bring myself to ' obey ' him, for I love
him very devotedly ; but as to being dictated to by all his rela-
tives, I never will ! Beulah, burn this blurred letter, don't let
anybody know how drearily I am situated. I am too proud to
have my misery published. To know that people pitied me,
would kill me. I never can be happy again, but perhaps you
can help me to be less miserable. Do write to me ! Oh, how I
wish you could come to me ! I charge you, Beulah, don't let
Uncle Guy know that I am not happy. Good bye. Oh, if ever
you marry, be sure your husband has no old maid sisters, and no
officious kin 1 I am crying so, that I can barely see the lines.
Good bye, dear Beulah.
"PAULIXE."
Beulah leaned forward, and dropped the letter into the glow-
ing mass of coals. It shrivelled, blazed and vanished, and with a
heavy sigh, she sat pondering the painful contents. What advice
could she possibly give that would remedy the trouble ? She
was aware that the young wife must indeed have been "very
wretched," before she could consent to disclose her domestic
feuds to another. Under happier auspices, she felt that Pauline
would have made a devoted, gentle wife, but feared it was now
too late to mold her character in conformity with her husband's
wishes. " So much for a union of uncongenial natures," thought
Beulah, as she prepared to answer the unlucky letter. As guard-
edly as possible, she alluded to Mr. Mortimor and his family, and
urged Pauline to talk to her husband gently, but firmly, and
assure him that the continued interference of his family was un-
endurable. If her remonstrances proved futile, to do what she
BEULAH. 373
considered due to herself as mistress of her own establishment,
and try not to notice the annoyances of others. Beulah felt, and
acknowledged her inability to advise the young wife in the diffi-
cult position in which she was placed, and closed by assuring her
that only her own. good sense, guided by sincere love for her
husband, could rightly direct her course. She was warmly
attached to Pauline, and it was with a troubled heart that she
addressed her reply.
CHAPTER XXIX.
THE Grahams were all at home again, and Eugene and his
bride had been for several weeks fairly settled in their elegant
new house. Beulah had seen none of the family since their re-
turn, for her time was nearly all occupied, and as soon as released
from school, she gladly hurried out to her little home. One
evening, as she left the Academy, Mr. Graham's spirited horses
dashed up to the gate, and the coachman handed her a note. It
was from Mrs. Graham.
" Miss BENTON :
" Cornelia is quite indisposed, and begs that you will call and see
her this afternoon. A.S it threatens rain, I send the carriage.
"S. GRAHAM."
Beulah crumpled the note between her fingers, and hesitated.
The coachman perceived her irresolution, and hastened to say :
" You needn't be afraid of the horses, miss. Miss Nett' rides
so much they are tamed down."
" I am not at all afraid of the horses. Has Cornelia been sick
since her return from the North T'
" Why, miss, she came home worse than ever. She has not
been down-stairs since. She is sick all the time now."
Beulah hesitated no longer. Mrs. Graham met her at the
door, and greeted her more cordially than she had done on any
374 B E U L A H .
previous occasion. She looked anxious and weary, and said, as
she led the way to her daughter's apartment :
" We are quite uneasy about Cornelia ; you will find her
sadly altered." She ushered Benlah into the room, then imme-
diately withdrew.
Cornelia was propped up by cushions and pillows in her easy-
chair ; her head was thrown back, and her gaze appeared to be
riveted on a painting which hung opposite. Beulah stood beside
her a moment, unnoticed, and saw with painful surprise the
ravages which disease had made in the once beautiful face and
queenly form. The black, shining hair was cut short and clus-
tered in thick, wavy locks about the wan brow, now corrugated
as by some spasm of pain. The cheeks were hollow and ghastly
pale ; the eyes sunken, but unnaturally large and brilliant ; and
the colorless lips compressed as though to bear habitual suffering.
Her wasted hands, grasping the arms of the chair, might have
served as a model for a statue of death, so thin, pale, almost
transparent, Beulah softly touched one of them, and said :
" Cornelia, you wished to see me."
The invalid looked at her intently, and smiled.
" I thought you would come. Ah, Beulah, do you recognize
this wreck as your former friend ?"
" I was not prepared to find you so changed ; for until this
afternoon I was not aware your trip had been so fruitless. Do
you suffer much ?"
" Suffer 1 Yes, almost all the time ; but it is not the bodily
torture that troubles me so much I could bear that in silence.
It is my mind, Beulah ; my mind."
She pointed to a chair ; Beulah drew it near her, and Cornelia
continued :
" I thought I should die suddenly, but it is to be otherwise
The torture is slow, lingering. I shall never leave this house
again except to go to my final home. Beulah, I have wanted to
see you very much ; I thought you would hear of my illness and
come. How calm and pale you are. Give me your hand. Ah,
BEULAH. 375
cool and pleasant ; mine parched with fever. And you have a
little home of your own, I hear. How have things gone with
you since we parted ? Are you happy ?"
" My little home is pleasant, and my w,ants are few," replied
Beulah.
"Have you seen Eugene recently?"
" Not since his marriage."
A bitter laugh escaped Cornelia's lips, as she writhed an instant,
and then said :
" I knew how it would be. I shall not live to see the end,
but you will. Ha! Beulah, already he has discovered his mis-
take. I did not expect it so soon ; I fancied Antoinette had
more policy. She has dropped the mask. He sees himself
wedded to a woman completely devoid of truth ; he knows her
now as she is : as I tried to show him she was, before it was too
late ; and Beulah, as I expected, he has grown reckless despe-
rate. Ah, if you could have witnessed a scene at the St. Nicholas,
in New York, not long since, you would have wept over him.
He found his bride heartless ; saw that she preferred the society
of other gentlemen to his ; that she lived only for the adulation
of the crowd ; and one evening, on coming home to the hotel,
found she had gone to the opera with a party she knew he de-
tested. Beulah, it sickens me when I think of his fierce railings,
ana anguish, and scorn. He drank in mad defiance, and when
she returned, greeted her with imprecations that would have
bowed any other woman, in utter humiliation, into the dust. Sfche
laughed derisively, told him he might amuse himself as he chose,
she would not heed his wishes as regarded her own movements.
Luckily, my parents knew nothing of it ; they little suspected,
nor do they now know, why I was taken so alarmingly ill before
dawn. I am glad I am to go so soon. I could not endure to
witness his misery and disgrace."
She closed her eyes and groaned.
" What induced her to marry him ?" asked Beulah.
" Only her own false heart knows. But I have always
376 B E U L A H .
believed she was chiefly influenced by a desire to escape from
the strict discipline to which her father subjected her at home.
Her mother was anything but a model of propriety; and her
mother's sister, who jaras Dr. Hart well's wife, was not more
exemplary. My uncle endeavored to curb Antoinette's danger-
ous fondness for display and dissipation, and she fancied that, as
Eugene's wife, she could freely plunge into gaieties which were
sparingly allowed her at home. I know she does not love
Eugene ; she never did ; and, assuredly, his future is dark
enough. I believe, if she could reform him, she would not; his
excesses sanction, or at least in some degree palliate, hers. Oh,
Beulah, I see no hope for him!"
" Have you talked to him kindly, Cornelia ? Have you faith-
fully exerted your influence to check him in his route to ruin ?"
"Talked to him? Aye; entreated, remonstrated, upbraided,
used every argument at my command. But I might as well talk
to the winds, and hope to hush their fury. I shall not stay to
see his end; I shall soon be silent and beyond all suffering;
death is welcome, very welcome."
Her breathing was quick and difficult, and two crimson spots
burned on her sallow cheeks. Her whole face told of years of
bitterness, and a grim defiance of death, which sent a shudder
through Beulah, as she listened to the panting breath. Cornelia
saturated her handkerchief with some delicate perfume from a
crystal vase, and passing it over her face, continued :
** They tell me it is time I should be confirmed ; talk vaguely
of seeing preachers, and taking the sacrament, and preparing
myself, as if I could be frightened into religion and the church.
My mother seems just to have waked up to a knowledge of my
spiritual condition, as she calls it. Ah, Beulah, it is all dark
before me; black, black as midnight! I am going down to an
eternal night; down to annihilation. Yes, Beulah, soon I shall
descend into what Schiller's Moor calls the ' nameless yonder.'
Before long I shall have done with mystery; shall be sunk into
unbroken rest." A ghastly smile parted her lips as she spoke.
B E U L A H . 377
" Cornelia, do you fear death ?"
" No, not exactly. I am glad I arn so soon to be rid of rny
vexed, joyless life ; but you know it is all a dark mystery ; and
sometimes, when I recollect how I felt in my childhood, I shrink
from the final dissolution. I have no hopes of a blissful future,
such as cheer some people in their last hour. Of what comes
after death, I know and believe nothing. Occasionally, I shiver
at the thought of annihilation ; but if, after all, Revelation is
true, I have something worse than^ annihilation to fear. You
know the history of my skepticism; it is the history of hundreds
in this age. The inconsistencies of professing Christians dis-
gusted me. Perhaps I was wrong to reject the doctrines,
because of their abuse; but it is too late, now, for me to con-
sider that. I narrowly watched the conduct of some of the
members of the various churches, and, as I live, Beulah, I have
never seen but one who practised the precepts of Christ. I
concluded she would have been just what she was without reli-
gious aids. One of my mother's intimate friends was an osten-
tatious, pharisaical Christian ; gave alms, headed charity lists,
was remarkably punctual in her attendance at church, and appa-
rently very devout; yet I accidentally found out that she treated
a poor seamstress (whom she hired for a paltry sum), in a man-
ner that shocked my ideas of consistency, of common humanity.
The girl was miserably poor, and had aged parents, and brothers
and sisters, dependent on her exertions; but her Christian em-
ployer paid her the lowest possible price, and trampled on her
feelings as though she had been a brute. Oh, the hollowness
of the religion I saw practised! I sneered at everything con-
nected with churches, and heard no more sermons, which seemed
only to make hypocrites and pharisees of the congregation. I
have never known but one exception. Mrs. Asbury is a con-
sistent Christian. I have watched her, under various circum-
stances ; I have tempted her, in divers ways, to test her ; and
to-day, skeptic as I am, I admire and revere that noble woman.
If all Christiaus set an example as pure and bright as hers,
378 B E U L A H .
there were less infidelity and atheism in the land. If I had
known even half a dozen such, I might have had a faith to
cheer me in the hour of my struggle. She used to talk gently
to me in days past, but I would not heed her. She often comes
to see me new ; and though I do not believe the words of com-
fort that fall from her lips, still they soothe me; and I love to
have her sit near me, that I may look at her sweet, holy face,
so full of winning purity. Beulah, a year ago we talked of these
things; I was then, as now, hopeless of creeds, of truth, but you
were sure you would find the truth, I looked at you eagerly
when you came in, knowing I could read the result in your
countenance. Ah, there is no peace written there! Where is
your truth ? Show it to me ?"
She twined her thin, hot fingers round Beulah's cold hand,
and spoke in a weary tone. The orphan's features twitched an
instant, and her old troubled look came back, as she said :
" I wish I could help you, Cornelia. It must be terrible, in-
deed, to stand on the brink of the grave and have no belief in
anything. I would give more than I possess to be able to assist
you, but I cannot ; I have no truth to offer you ; I have yet dis-
covered nothing for myself. I am not so sanguine as I was a
year ago, but I still hope that I shall succeed."
" You will not ; you will not. It is all mocking mystery, and
no more than the aggregated generations of the past, can you
find any solution."
Cornelia shook her head, and leaned back in her chair.
" Philosophy promises one," replied Beulah, resolutely.
" Philosophy ? take care ; that hidden rock stranded me
Listen to me : philosophy, or, what is now-a-day its synonym,
metaphysical systems, are worse than useless. They will make
you doubt your own individual existence, if that be possible. I
am older than you ; I am a sample of the efficacy of such sys-
tems. Oh, the so-called philosophers of this century and the
last are crowned-heads of humbugry 1 Adepts in the famous
art of
B E U L A H . 379
" ' Wrapping nonsense round,
With pomp and darkness, till it seems profound.'
They mock earnest, inquiring minds with their refined infinitesi-
mal, homoeopathic ' developments' of deity; metaphysical wolves
in Socratic cloaks. Oh, they have much to answer for ! ' Spring
of philosophy !' ha ! ha ! they have made a frog-pond of it, in
which to launch their flimsy, painted toy-barks. Have done with
them, Beulah, or you will be miserably duped."
"Have you lost faith in Emerson and Theodore Parker?"
asked Beulah.
"Yes, lost faith in everything and everybody, except Mrs.
Asbury. Emerson's atheistic fatalism is enough to unhinge
human reason ; he is a great, and I believe an honest thinker,
and of his genius I have the profoundest admiration. An intel-
lectual Titan, be wages a desperate war with received creeds,
and rising on the ruins of systems, struggles to scale the battle-
ments of truth. As for Parker, a careful perusal of his works
was enough to disgust me. But no more of this, Beulah so
long* as you have found nothing to rest upon. I had hoped much
from your earnest search, but since it has been futile, let the
subject drop. Give me that glass of medicine. Dr. Hartwcll
was here, just before you came ; he is morose and haggard ;
what ails him ?"
" I really don't know. I have not seen him for several months %
not since August, I believe."
11 So I supposed, as I questioned him about you ; and he
seemed ignorant of your movements. Beulah, does not life look
dreary and tedious when you anticipate years of labor a,nd care ?
Teaching is not child's sport ; are you not already weary in
spirit ?"
" No, I am not weary; neither does life seem joyless. I know
that I shall have to labor for a support, but necessity always
supplies strength. I have many, very many sources of happi-
ness, and look forward, hopefully, to a life of usefulness."
380 BEULAH.
" Do you intend to teach all your days ? Are you going to
wear out your life over primers and slates ?"
" Perhaps so. I know not how else I shall more easily earn a
subsistence."
" I trust you will marry, and be exempted from that dull,
tedious routine," said Cornelia, watching her countenance.
Beulah made a gesture of impatience.
" That is a mode of exemption so extremely remote that I
never consider it. I do not find teaching so disagreeable as you
imagine, and dare say, at fifty (if I live that long), I shall still
be in a schoolroom. Remember the trite line
" * I dreamed and thought that life was beauty:
I woke, and found that life was duty.'
Labor, mental and physical, is the heritage of humanity, and
happiness is inseparably bound up with the discharge of duty.
It is a divine decree that all should work, and a compliance with
that decree insures a proper development of the moral, intellec-
tual and physical nature."
" You are brave, Beulah, and have more of hope in your
nature than I. For twenty- three years, I have been "a petted
child, but life has given me little enjoyment. Often have I asked,
why was I created ? for what am I destined ? I have been like
a gilded bubble, tossed about by every breath ! Oh, Beulah I
often, in the desolation of my heart, I have recalled that grim
passage of Pollok's, and thought that verily I was that
" Atom which God
Had made superfluously, and needed not
To build creation with ; but back again
To nothing threw, and left it in the void,
With everlasting sense, that once it was!'
My life has not been useful, it has been but joyless, and clouded
with the shadow of death from my childhood."
Her voice was broken, and tears trickled over her emaciated
BEULAH. 381
face. She put up her thin hand and brushed them away, as if
ashamed of her emotion.
" Sometimes I think if I could only live, and be strong, I
would make myself useful in the world would try to be less
selfish and exacting ; but all regrets are Tain, and the indulged
child of luxury must take her place in the pale realms of death,
along with the poverty-stricken and laboring. Beulah, I was in
pain last night, and could not sleep, and for hours I seemed to
hear the words of that horrible vision : ' And he saw how world
after world shook off its glimmering souls upon the sea of Death,
as a water-bubble scatters swimming lights on the waves.' Oh 1
my mind is clouded and my heart hopeless ; it is dismal to stand
alone as I do, and confront the final issue, without belief in any-
thing. Sometimes, when the paroxysms are severe and pro-
longed, I grow impatient of the tedious delay, and would spring,
open-armed, to meet Death, the deliverer."
Beulah was deeply moved, and answered, with a faltering
voice and trembling lip :
41 1 wish I could comfort and cheer you, but I cannot I can-
not ! If the hand of disease placed me to-day on the brink
beside you, I should be as hopeless as you. Oh, Cornelia ! it
makes my heart ache to look at you now, and I would give my
life to be able to stand where you do, with a calm trust in the
God of Israel ; but
" Then, be warned by my example. In many respects we
resemble each other; our pursuits have been similar. Beulah, do
not follow me to the end I Take 'my word for it, all is dark and
grim."
She sank back, too much exhausted to continue the conversa-
tion, and Beulah rose to go.
" Can't you stay with me ?" said the feeble girl.
" No, my companionship is no benefit to you now. If I could
help you, I would not leave you at all."
She pressed her lips to the forehead furrowed by suffering, and
hastened away.
382 BEULAH.
It was dusk when she reached home, and passing the dining-
room, where the tea-table awaited her arrival, she songht her own
apartment. A cheerful fire blazed in welcome, but just now all
things were sombre to her vision, and she threw herself into a
chair and covered her face with her hauds. Like a haunting
spectre, Cornelia's haggard countenance pursued her, and a dull
foreboding pointed to a coming season when she, too, would quit
earth in hopeless uncertainty. She thought of her guardian and
his skeptical misanthropy. He had explored every by-path of
speculation, and after years of study and investigation, had
give*! up in despair, and settled down into a refined pantheism.
Could she hope to succeed better ? Was her intellect so vastly
superior to those who for thousands of years had puzzled by
midnight lamps over these identical questions of origin and des-
tiny ? What was the speculation of all ages, from Thales to
Comte, to the dying girl she had just left ? Poor Beulah ! for
the first time her courage forsook her, and bitter tears gushed
over her white cheeks. There was no stony bitterness in her
face, but an unlifting shadow that mutely revealed the unnum-
bered hours of strife and desolation which were slowly bowing
that brave heart to the dust. She shuddered, as now, in self-
communion, she felt that atheism, grim and murderous, stood at
the entrance of her soul, and threw its benumbing shadow into
the inmost recesses. Unbelief hung its murky vapors about her
heart, curtaining it from the sunshine of God's smile. It was
not difficult to trace her gradual progress, if so she might term
her unsatisfactory journey. Rejecting literal revelation, she was
perplexed to draw the exact line of demarkation between myths
and realities ; then followed doubts as to the necessity, and
finally, as to the probability and possibility of an external,
verbal revelation. A revealed code, or system, was antagonistic
to the doctrines of rationalism ; her own consciousness must
furnish the necessary data. But how far was " individualism "
allowable ? And here the hydra of speculation reared its horrid
head ; if consciousness alone furnished truth, it was but true for
BEULAH. 383
her, true according to the formation of her mind, but not abso-
lutely true. Admit the supremacy of the individual reason, and
she could not deny " that the individual mind is the generating
principle of all human knowledge ; that the soul of man is like
the silkworm, which weaves its universe out of its own being ;
that the whole mass of knowledge, to which we can ever attain,
lies potentially within us from the beginning ; that all truth is
nothing more than a self-development."
She became entangled in the finely-spun webs of ontology,
and knew not what she believed. Her guardian's words rang in
her ears like a knell. "You must accept either utter skepticism,
or absolute, consistent pantheism.' 7
A volume, which she had been reading the night before,
lay on the table, and she opened it at the following passage :
" Every being is sufficient to itself ; that is, every being is, in
and by itself, infinite: has its God, its highest conceivable being,
in itself. The object of any subject is nothing else than the
subject's own nature taken objectively. Such as are a man's
thoughts and dispositions, such is his God I Consciousness of
God, is self-consciousness ; by his God, you know the man, and
by the man, his God : the two are identical 1 Religion is
merely the consciousness which a man has of his own, not
limited, but infinite nature ; it is an early form of self-
knowledge. God is the objective nature of the under-
standing."
Thus much Feuerbach offered her. She put down the book,
and leaned her head wearily on her hands. A light touch on
her arm caused her to glance up, and Mrs. Williams' anxious
face looked down at her.
"What is the matter with you, Beulah ? Are you sick ?"
" No, I am as well as usual." She hastily averted her head.
" But something troubles you, child I"
" Yes, a great many things trouble me ; but I am used to
troubles, you know, and can cope with them unaided."
" Won't you tell me what they are, Beulah ?"
384 B E U L A H .
" You cannot help me, or I would. One cause of sorrow,
however, is the approaching death of a friend, whom I shall
miss and mourn. Cornelia Graham cannot live much longer. I
saw her this evening, and found her sadly altered."
" She is young to die," said the matron, with a sigh.
" Yes, only twenty-three."
" Perhaps her death will be the means of reclaiming my poor
boy."
Beulah shook her head, and Mrs. Williams added :
" She has lived only for this world and its pleasures. Is she
afraid of the world to come ? Can she die peacefully ?"
"She will die calmly, but not hopefully. She does not believe
in Christianity."
She felt that the matron was searching her countenance, and
was not surprised when she said, falteringly :
" Neither do you believe in it. Oh, Beulah ! I have known it
since you came to reside under the same roof with me, and I
have wept and prayed over you almost as much as over Eugene.
When Sabbath after Sabbath passed, and you absented yourself
from church, I knew something was wrong. Beulah, who has
taught you infidelity ? Oh, it would have been better that you
too had followed Lilly, in the early days when you were pure in
heart ! Much as I love you, I would rather weep over your
grave, than know you had lived to forget God."
Beulah made no reply, and passing her hands tenderly over
the girl's head, she continued :
" When you came to me, a little child, I taught you your
morning and evening prayers. Oh, Beulah ! Beulah ! now you
lay down to sleep without u thought of prayer. My child, what
is to become of you ?"
" I don't know. But do not be distressed about me ; I am
trying to do my duty just as conscientiously as though I went to
church."
" Don't deceive yourself, dear child. If you cease to pray and
read your Bible, how are you to know what your duty is ? How
BEULAH. 385
are you to keep yourself ' pure and unspotted from the world V
Beulah, a man without religion is to be pitied ; but, oh ! a God-
less woman is a horror above all things. It is no marvel you
look so nnxious and hollow-eyed. Yoa have forsaken the ' ways
of pleasantness, and the paths of peace. 7 "
" I am responsible to no one for my opinions."
"Yes, you are ; responsible to God, for he has given truth to
the world, and when you shut your eyes, and willingly walk in
darkness, he will judge you accordingly. If you had lived in an
Indian jungle, out of hearing of Gospel truth, then God would
not have expected anything but idolatry from you ; but you live
in a Christian land ; in the land of bibles, and 'to whom much
is given, much will be expected.' The people of this generation
are running after new doctrines, and overtake much error.
Beulah, since I have seen you, sitting up, nearly all night, poring
over books that rail at Jesus and his doctrines, I have repented
the hour I first suggested your educating yourself to teach. If
this is what all your learning has brought you to, it would have
been better if you had been put out to learn millinery or mantua-
making. Oh, my child, you have been my greatest pride, bnt
now you are a grief to me 1"
She took Beulah's hand in hers, and pressed her lips to it,
while the tears fell thick and fast. The orphan was not un-
moved ; her lashes were heavy with unshed drops, but she said
nothing.
" Beulah, I am fifty-five years old ; I have seen a great deal
of the world, and I tell you, I have never yet known a happy
man or woman, who did not reverence God and religion. I can
see that you are not happy ; child, you never will be, so long as
you wander away from God. I pray for you, but you must also
pray for yourself. May God help you, my dear child."
She left her, knowing her nature too well to hope to con-
vince her of her error.
Beulah remained for some time in the same position, with her
eyes fixed on the fire, and her forehead ploughed by torturing
17
386 BEULAH.
thought. The striking of the clock roused her from her reverie,
and drawing a chair near her desk, she took up her pen to com-
plete an article due the next day at the magazine office,. All,
ho\v little the readers dreamed of the heavy heart, that put
aside its troubles to labor for their amusement. To-night she
did not succeed as well as usual ; her manuscript was blurred,
and forced to copy the greater part of it, the clock struck three
before she laid her weary head on her pillow.
CHAPTER XXX
MR. GRAHAM sat by his daughter's bed, with his elbow resting
on her pillow,- and his head drooped on his hand. It was noon,
and sunshine sparkled out of doors, but here the heavy curtains
swept across the windows, and cast a lurid light over the sick-
room. His heart ached, as he looked upon the wreck of his
once brilliant and beautiful child, and he shaded his face to con-
ceal the tears which stole down his furrowed cheeks. The rest-
less sufferer threw up her arms over the pillow, and turning
toward him, said in a voice sharpened by disease :
" Has mother gone ? I want to say something to you."
" We are alone, my child ; speak to me freely."
" There are a few things I wish to have arranged, and my
time is short. You have never refused me any gratification I
desired, and I know you will grant my last request. Father, if
I were a bride to-day, what would be my portion of the estate ?
How much would you give me ?"
" I would give every cent I possess, to purchase you a life of
happiness."
" You do not understand me. I have always been considered
an heiress, and I want to know how much I would be entitled
BEULAH. 387
to, if I should live ? Of course Eugene has an equal share ;
how much is it ?"
" About eighty thousand dollars apiece, I suppose, leaving as
much for your mother. Why do you ask, my daughter ?"
"Eighty thousand dollars. How much good might be done
with it, if judiciously distributed and invested ? Father, I shall
not live to squander it in frivolou* amusements, or superfluous
luxuries. Are you willing that I should dispose of a portion of
it before my death ?"
"Yes, Cornelia, if it will afford you any gratification. My
poor afflicted child : how can I deny you anything you choose
to ask !"
She put up one arm around his neck, and drawing his head
close to her, said earnestly :
" I only wish to use a part of it. Father, I want to leave
Beulah about five thousand dollars. That sum will enable her
to live more comfortably, and labor less, and I should like to
feel, before I die, that I had been the means of assisting her.
Will you invest that amount in stocks for her, or pay the money
into her own hands ? Will you see that it is arranged so, that
she will certainly receive it, no matter what happens ?"
" Yes, I promise you, that she shall have five thousand dollars,
to dispose of as she thinks proper."
" She is proud, and will not receive it willingly ; but you must
arrange it, so that she will be benefited by it. Father, can
you do this for me ?"
" Yes, without difficulty, I think."
" Let it be kept secret, will you ?"
" Rest assured it shall have no unnecessary publicity."
" See that it is conveyed to her so securely, that no quibbles
of law can wrest it from her at any future day, for none of us
knows what may happen."
" I promise you she shall have it, if I live twelve hours
longer."
" Then, I want five thousand more given to the Orphan Asylum.
388 BEULAH.
Give it in your own name. You only have the right to give.
Don't have my name mentioned in the matter. Will you promise
me this, also ?"
" Yes, it shall all be done. Is there anything else ?"
" Thank you, that is all as regards money matters. Raise my
pillow a little ; there, that will do. Father, can't you do some-
thing to save Eugene ? You must see now how reckless he is
growing."
" Recently I have expostulated with him, and he seemed dis-
posed to reform his habits. Acknowledged that his associations
had been injurious, and regretted the excesses into which he had
been led. He has been rather wild since he came from college,
but I think, now he is married, he will sober down. That is one
reason .why I encouraged his marrying so early. Intemperance
is his only fault, and I trust his good sense will soon lead him to
correct it." A smothered sigh concluded the sentence.
" Father, Antoinette is not the woman to reform him. Don't
trust to her influence ; if you do, Eugene will be ruined. Watch
over him closely yourself ; try to win him away from the haunts
of dissipation ; I tell you now his wife will never do it. She has
duped you and my mother as to her character, but you will find
that she is as utterly heartless as her own mother was. I always
opposed the match, because I probed her mask of dissimulation,
and knew Eugene could not be happy with her. But the mis-
take is irretrievable, and it only remains for you to watch him
the more carefully. Lift me, father, I can't breathe easily.
There is the doctor ou the steps ; I am too tired to talk any
more to-day."
********
One week later, as Beulah was spending her Sabbath evening
in her own apartment, she was summoned to see her friend for
the last time. It was twilight when she reached Mr. Graham's
house and glided noiselessly up the thickly-carpeted stairway.
The bells were all muffled, and a solemn stillness reigned over the
mansion. She left her bonnet and shawl in the hall, and softlj
BEULAH. 389
entered the chamber unannounced. Unable to breathe in a
horizontal position, Cornelia was bolstered up in her easy-chair.
Her mother sat near her, with her face hid on her husband's
bosom. Dr. Hart well leaned against the mantel, and Eugene
stood on the hearth opposite him, with his head bowed down on
his hands. Cornelia drew her breath in quick gasps, and cold
drops glistened on her pallid face. Her sunken eyes wandered
over the group, and when Beulah drew near she extended her
hands eagerly, while a shadowy smile passed swiftly over her
sharpened features.
" Beulah, come close to me close." She grasped her hands
tightly, and Beulah knelt at the side of her chair.
" Beulah, in a little while I shall be at rest. You will rejoice
to see me free from pain, won't you ? I have suffered for so many
months and years. But death is about to release me forever.
Beulah, is it forever ? is it forever ? Am I going down into an
eternal sleep, on a marble couch, where grass and flowers will
wave over me, and the sun shine down on me ? Yes, it must be
so. AVho has ever waked from this last dreamless slumber ?
Abel was the first to fall asleep, and since then, who has wak-
ened ? No one. Earth is full of pale sleepers ; and I am soon
to join the silent band."
There was a flickering light in her eyes, like the flame of a
candle low in its socket, and her panting breath was painful to
listen to.
" Cornelia, they say Jesus of Nazareth slept, and woke again;
if so, you will "
" Ha, but you don't believe that, Beulah. They say, they
say ! Yes, but I never believed them before, and I don't want
to believe them now. I will not believe it. It is too late to tell
me that now. Beulah, I shall know very soon ; the veil of mys-
tery is being lifted. Oh, Beulah, I am glad I am going ; glad I
shall soon have no more sorrow and pain ; but it is all dark,
dark 1 You know what I mean. Don't live as I have, believing
nothing. No matter what your creed may be, hold fast, have
390 BEULAH.
firm faith in it. It is because I believe in nothing, that I am so
clouded now. Oh, it is such a dark, dark, lonely way ! If I had
a friend to go with me, I should not shrink back, but oh, Beulah,
I am so solitary! It seems to me I am going out into a great
starless midnight." She shivered, and her cold fingers clutched
Beulah's convulsively.
" Calm yourself, Cornelia. If Christianity is true, God will see
that you were honest in your skepticism, and judge you leniently.
If not, then, death is annihilation, and you have nothing to
dread ; you will sink into quiet oblivion of all your griefs."
" Annihilation I then I shall see you all no more ! Oh, why
was I ever created, to love others, and then be torn away for-
ever, and go back to senseless dust ? I never have been happy;
I have always had aspirations after purer, higher enjoyments
than earth could afford me, and must they be lost in dead clay ?
Oh, Beulah, can you give me no comfort but this ? Is this the
sum of all your study, as well as mine ? Ah, it is vain, useless ;
man can find out nothing. We are all blind ; groping our way
through mysterious paths, and now I am going into the last
the great mystery !"
She shook her head, with a bitter smile, and closed her eyes,
as if to shut out some hideous spectre. . Dr. Hartwell gave her a
spoonful of some powerful medicine, and stood watching her face,
distorted by the difficulty of breathing. A long silence ensued,
broken only by the sobs of the parents. Cornelia leaned back,
with closed eyes, and now and then her lips moved, but nothing
intelligible escaped them. It was surprising how she seemed to
rally, sometimes, and breathe with perfect ease .; then the
paroxysms would come on more violent than ever. Beulah knelt
on the floor, with her forehead resting on the arm of the chair,
arid her hands still grasped in the firm hold of the dying girl-
Time seemed to stand still, to watch the issue, for moments were
long as hours to the few friends of the sufferer. Beulah felt as
if her heart were leaden, and a band of burning iron seemed
drawn about her brow. "Was this painful parting to be indeed
BETJLAH. T>91
eternal ? Was there no future home for the dead of this world ?
Should the bands of love and friendship, thus ruddy sever. -d, be
renewed no more? Was there no land where the broken links
might be gathered up again ? What did philosophy say of i !
grim hours of struggle and separation ? Nothing absolutely
nothing ! Was she to see her sister no more ? Was a inokler-
ing mass of dust all that remained of the darling dead the beau-
tiful angel, Lilly, whom she had so idolized ? Oh ! was life,
then, a great mockery, and the soul, with its noble aims and
impulses, but a delicate machine of matter ? Her brain was in a
wild, maddening whirl ; she could not weep ; her eyes were dry
and burning. Cornelia moved an instant, and murmured, audibly:
" ' For here we have no continuing city, but seek one to come.'
Ah ! what is its name ? that ' continuing city 1' Necropolis ?"
Again she remained, for some time, speechless.
Dr. Hartwell softly wiped away the glistening drops on her
brow, and opening her eyes, she looked up at him intently. It
was an imploring gaze, which mutely said : " Can't you help me ?"
He leaned over, and answered it, sadly enough :
" Courage, Cornelia I It will very soon be over now. The
worst is past, my friend."
" Yes, I know. There is a chill creeping over me. Where is
Eugene ?"
He came and stood near her ; his face full of anguish, which
could not vent itself in tears. Her features became convulsed as
she looked at him ; a wailing cry broke from her lips ; and ex-
tending her arms toward him, she said, sobbingly :
" Shall I see you no more no more ? Oh, Eugene, my
brother, my pride, my dearest hope ! whom I have loved bet-
ter than my own life, are we now parted forever forever !"
He laid her head on his bosom, and endeavored to soothe her;
but dinging to him, she said, huskily :
" Eugene, with my last breath I implore you ; forsake your
intemperate companions. Shun them and their haunts. Let me
die, feeling that at least my dying prayer will save you ! Oh,
BE TIL A H.
when I am gone ; when I am silent in the graveyard, remember
how the thought of your intemperance tortured me ! Remem-
ber how I remonstrated, and entreated you not to ruin yourself \
Remember that I loved you above everything on earth; and that,
in my last hour, I prayed you to save yourself ! Oh, Eugene,
for my sake 1 for my sake 1 quit the wiae cup, and leave drunk-
enness for others more degraded ! Promise me ! : Where
are you ? Oh, it is all cold and dark ! I can't see you I
Eugene, promise, promise ! Eugene 1"
Her eyes were riveted on his, and her lips moved for some
seconds ; then the clasping arms gradually relaxed ; the gasps
ceased. Eugene felt a long shudder creep over the limbs, a deep,
heavy sigh passed her lips, and Cornelia Graham's soul was with
its God.
Ah 1 after twenty- three years of hope and fear, struggling and
questioning, what an exit. Eugene lifted the attenuated form,
and placed it on the bed ; then threw himself into her vacant
chair, and sobbed like a broken-hearted child. Mr. Graham
took his wife from the room ; and after some moments, Dr.
Hartwell touched the kneeling figure, with the face still pressed
against the chair Eugene now occupied.
11 Come, Beulah, she will want you no more."
She lifted a countenance so full of woe, that as he looked at
her, the moisture gathered in his eyes, and he put his hand ten-
derly on her head, saying :
" Come with me, Beulah."
" And this is death ? Oh, my God, save me from such a
death !"
She clasped her hands over her eyes, and shivered ; then rising
from her kneeling posture, threw herself on a couch, and buried
her face in its cushions. That long night of self-communion was
never forgotten.
********
The day of the funeral was cold, dark and dismal. A January
wind howled through the streets, and occasional drizzling show-
BEULAH. 393
ers enhanced the gloom. The parlors and sitting-room were
draped, and on the marble slab of one of the tables stood the
coffin, covered with a velvet pall. Once before, Beulah had
entered a room similarly shrouded ; and it seemed but yesterday
that she stood beside Lilly's rigid form. She went in alono, and
waited some moments near the coffin, striving to calm the w'ld
tumult of conflicting sorrows in her oppressed heart ; then lifted
the covering, and looked on the sleeper. Wan, waxen and
silent. No longer the fitful sleep of disease, nor the refreshing
slumber of health, but the still iciness of ruthless death. The
black locks were curled around the forehead, and the beautiful
hands folded peacefully over the heart that should throb no more
with the anguish of earth. Death had smoothed the brow, and
put the trembling mouth at rest, and every feature was in repose.
In life she had never looked so placidly beautiful.
"What availed all her inquiries, and longings, and defiant
cries? She died, no nearer the truth than when she began.
She died without hope, and without knowledge. Only death
could unseal the mystery," thought Beulah, as she looked at the
marble face, and recalled the bitterness of its life-long expression.
Persons began to assemble ; gradually, the rooms filled. Beulah
bent down, and kissed the cold lips for the last time, and lower-
ing her veil, retired to a dim corner. She was very miserable,
but her eyes were tearless, and she sat, she knew not how long,
unconscious of what passed around her. She heard the stifled
sobs of the bereaved parents, as in a painful dream ; and when
the solemn silence was broken, she started, and saw a venerable
man, a stranger, standing at the head of the coffin ; and these
words fell upon her ears like a message from another world :
" I am the resurrection and the life," saith the Lord ; " and he
that believeth in me, though he were dead, yet shall he live ;
and whosoever liveth and believeth in me shall never die 1"
Cornelia had not believed ; was she utterly lost ? Beulah
asked herself this question, and shrank from the answer. She
did not believe : would she die as Cornelia died, without com-
17*
394: BEULAH.
fort ? Was there but one salvation ? When the coffin was
borne out, and the procession formed, she went on mechanically,
and found herself seated in a carriage with Mrs. Asbury and her
two daughters. She sank back in one corner, and the long line
of carriages, extending for many squares, slowly wound through
the streets. The wind wailed and sobbed, as if in sympathy,
and the rain drizzled against the window glass. When the pro-
cession reached the cemetery, it was too wet to think of leaving
the carriages, but Beulah could see the coffin borne from the
hearse, and heard the subdued voice of the minister ; and when
the shrouded form of the only child was lowered into its final
resting-place, she groaned, and hid her face in her hands.
" Should they meet no more ?" Hitherto Mrs. Asbury had for-
borne to address her, but now she passed her arm round the
shuddering form, and said, gently :
" My dear Beulah, do not look so hopelessly wretched. In
the midst of life, we are in death ; but God has given a promise
to cheer us all in sad scenes like this. St. John was told to
write, ' From henceforth, blessed are the dead who die in the'
Lord, for they rest from their labors/ "
" And do you think she is lost forever, because she did not
believe ? Do you ? Can you ?" cried Beulah, vehemently.
" Beulah, she had the Bible, which promises eternal life. If
she entirely rejected it, she did so voluntarily and deliberately ;
but only God knows the heart only her Maker can judge her.
I trust that even in the last hour, the mists rolled from her
mind."
Beulah knew better, but said nothing ; it was enough to have
witnessed that darkened soul's last hour on earth. As the car-
riage stopped at her door, Mrs. Asbury said :
"My dear Beulah, stay with me to-night. I think I can help
you to find what you are seeking so earnestly."
Beulah shrank back, and answered :
" No, no. No one can help me ; I must help myself. Somo
other time I will come."
BEITLAH. 395
The rain fell heavily as she reached her own home, and she
went to her room with a heaviness of heart almost unendurable.
She sat down on the rug before the fire, and threw her unns up
over a chair, as she was wont to do in childhood, and as she
remembered that the winter ruin now beat pitilessly on the- grave
of one who had never known privation, nor aught of grief that
wealth could shield her from, she moaned bitterly. What lamp
had philosophy hung in the sable chambers of the tomb ? The
soul was impotent to explain its origin how, then, could it pos-
sibly read the riddle of final destiny ? Psychologists had wran-
gled for ages over the question of ' ideas.' Were infants born
with or without them ? Did ideas arise or develop themselves
independently of experience ? The affirmation or denial of this
proposition alone distinguished the numerous schools, which had
so long wrestled with psychology; and if this were insolvable,
how could human intellect question further ? Could it bridge
the gulf of Death, and explore the shores of Eternity ?
CHAPTER XXXI.
TIME, " like a star, unhasting, yet unresting," moved on. The
keen blasts of winter were gathered back in their northern
storehouses, and the mild airs of spring floated dreamily beneath
genial skies. The day had been cloudless and balmy, but now
the long, level rays of sunshine, darting from the horizon, told
it " was well-nigh done ;" and Beulah sat on the steps of her
cottage home, and watched the dolphin-like death. The regal
splendors of southern springtime were on every side ; the bright,
fresh green of the grassy common, with its long, velvety slopes,
where the sunshine fell slantingly; the wild luxuriance of the
Cherokee rose-hedges, with their graceful streamers gleaming
396 BEULAH.
with the snow-powder of blossoms ; the waving of new-born
foliage ; the whir and chirping of birds, as they sought their
leafy shelters ; brilliant patches of verbena, like flakes of rain-
bow, in the neighboring gardens ; and the faint, sweet odor of
violet, jasmin, roses and honey-suckle, burdening the air. Beulah
sat with her hands folded on her lap ; an open book lay before
her a volume of Kuskin ; but the eyes had wandered away from
his gorgeous descriptions, to another and still more entrancing
volume the glorious page of Nature ; and as the swift southern
twilight gathered, she sat looking out, mute and motionless.
The distant pine-tops sang their solemn, soothing lullaby, and a
new moon sat royally in the soft violet sky. Around the
columns of the little portico, a luxuriant wisteria clambered, and
long, purple blossoms, with their spicy fragrance, drooped
almost on Beulah's head, as she leaned it against the pillar.
The face wore a weary, suffering look ; the large, restless eyes
were sadder than ever, and there were tokens of languor in
every feature. A few months had strangely changed the coun-
tenance, once so hopeful and courageous in its uplifted expres-
sion. The wasted form bore evidence of physical suffering,
and the slender fingers were like those of a marble statue. Yet
she had never missed an hour in the schoolroom, nor omitted
one iota of the usual routine of mental labor. Kigorously the
tax was levied, no matter how the weary limbs ached, or how
painfully the head throbbed ; and now nature rebelled at the
unremitted exaction, and clamored for a reprieve. Mrs. Williams
had been confined to her room for many days, by an attack of
rheumatism, and the time devoted to her was generally reclaimed
irom sleep. It was no mystery that she looked ill and spent.
Now, as she sat watching the silver crescent glittering in the
west, her thoughts wandered to Clara Sanders, and the last let-
ter received from her, telling of a glorious day-star of hope,
which had risen in her cloudy sky. Mr. Arlington's brother had
taught her that the dream of her girlhood was but a fleeting
fancy, that she could love again more truly than before, and in
t BEULAH. 397
the summer holidays she was to give him her hand, and receive
his name. Beulah rejoiced in her friend's happiness, but a dim
foreboding arose, lest, as in Pauline's case, thorns should spring
up in paths where now only blossoms were visible. Since that
letter, so full of complaint and sorrow, no tidings had come from
Pauline. Many months had elapsed, and Beulah wondered more
and more at the prolonged silence. She had written several
times, but received no answer, and imagination painted a
wretched young wife in that distant parsonage. Early in spring,
she learned from Dr. Asbury that Mrt Lockhart had died at his
plantation, of consumption, and she conjectured that Mrs. Lock-
hart must be with her daughter. Beulah half-rose, then leaned
back against the column, sighed involuntarily, and listened to
that " still small voice of the level twilight behind purple hills."
Mrs. Williams was asleep, but the tea-table waited for her, and
in her own room, on her desk, lay an unfinished manuscript,
which was due the editor the next morning. She was rigidly
punctual in handing in her contributions, cost her what it might;
yet now she shrank from the task of copying and punctuating,
and sat awhile longer, with the gentle southern breeze rippling
over her hot brow. She no longer wrote incognito; by accident
she was discovered as the authoress of several articles com-
mented upon by other journals, and more than once her humble
home had been visited by some of the leading literati of the
place. Her successful career, thus far, inflamed the ambition
which formed so powerful an element in her mental organization,
and a longing desire for Fame took possession of her soul. Early
and late she toiled ; one article was scarcely in the hands of the
compositor, ere she was engaged upon another. She lived, as it
were, in a perpetual brain-fever, and her physical frame suffered
proportionably. The little gate opened and closed with a creak-
ing sound, and hearing a step near her, Beulah looked up and
saw her guardian before her. The light from the dining-room
fell on his face, and a glance showed her that, although it was
pale and inflexible as ever, something of more than ordinary
39S BEULAH. %
interest had induced this visit. He had never entered that gate
before ; and she sprang np, and held out both hands with an
eager cry :
" Oh, sir, I am so glad to see you once more 1"
He took her hands in his, and looked at her gravely ; then
made her sit down again on the step, and said :
" I suppose you would have died, before you could get your
consent to send for me ? It is well that you have somebody to
look after you. How long have you had this fever ?"
" Fever ! Why, sir, I have no fever," she replied, with some
surprise.
" Oh, child ! are you trying to destroy yourself by your
obstinacy ? If so, like most other things you undertake, I sup-
pose you will succeed."
He held her hands, and kept his finger on the quick bounding
pulse. Beulah had not seen him since the night of Cornelia's
death, some months before, and conjectured that Dr. Asbury
had told him she was not looking well.
She could not bear the steady, searching gaze of his luminous
eyes, and moving restlessly, said :
" Sir, what induces you to suppose that I am sick ? I have
1 complained of indisposition to no one."
" Of course you have not, for people are to believe that you
are a gutta-percha automaton."
She fancied his tone was slightly sneering ; but his counte-
nance wore the expression of anxious, protecting interest, which
she had so prized in days past, and as her hands trembled in
his clasp, and his firm hold tightened, she felt that it was useless
to attempt to conceal the truth longer.
" I didn't know I was feverish, but for some time, I have
daily grown weaker ; I tremble when I stand or walk, and am
not able to sleep. That is all."
He smiled down at her earnest face, and asked :
" Is that all, child ? Is that all ?"
" Yes, sir, all."
BETJLAH. 399
" And here yon have been, with a continued, wasting nervous
fever, for you know not how many days, yet keep on your round
of labors, without cessation ?"
He dropped her hands, and folded his arms across his broad
chest, keeping his eyes upon her.
"I am not at all ill ; but I believe I need some medicine to
strengthen me."
" Yes, child ; you do, indeed, need a medicine, but it is one
you will never take."
"Try me, sir," answered she, smiling.
''Try you? I might as well try to win an eagle from its
lonely rocky home. Beulah, you need rest. Rest for mind,
body and heart. But you will not take it ; oh, no, of course
you won't 1"
He passed his hand over his brow, and swept back the glossy
chestnut hair, as if it oppressed him.
" I would willingly take it, sir, if I could ; but the summer
vacation is still distant, and, besides, my engagements oblige me
to exert myself. It is a necessity with me."
" Rather say, sheer obstinacy," said he, sternly.
"You are severe, sir," replied Beulah, lifting her head
haughtily.
" No, I only call things by their proper names."
11 Yery well ; if you prefer it, then, obstinacy compels me just
now to deny myself the rest you prescribe."
"Yes, rightly spoken ; and it will soon compel you to a long
rest, in the quiet place where Cornelia waits for you. You are
a mere shadow now, and a few more months will complete your
design. I have blamed myself more than once, that I did not
suffer you to die with Lilly, as you certainly would have done,
had I not tended you so closely. Your death, then, would have
saved me much care and sorrow, and you, many struggles."
There was a shadow on his face, and his voice had the deep
musical tone, which always made her heart thrill. Her eyelids
drooped, as she said, sadly:
400 B E U L A H .
"You are unjust. We meet rarely enough, heaven knows.
Why do you invariably make these occasions seasons of up-
braiding ; of taunts, and sneers. Sir, I owe you my life, and
more than my life, and never can I forget or cancel my obliga-
tions ; but are you no longer my friend ?"
His whole face lighted up ; the firm mouth trembled.
" No, Beulah. I am no longer your friend."
She looked up at him, and a quiver crept across her lips.
She had never seen that eager expression in his stern face before.
His dark fascinating eyes were full of pleading tenderness, and
as she drooped her head on her lap,* she knew that Clara was
right, that she was dearer to her guardian than any one else.
A half smothered groan escaped her, and there was a short
pause.
Dr. Hartwell put his hands gently on her bowed head, and
lifted the face.
" Child, does it surprise you ?"
She said nothing, and leaning her head against him, as she
had often done years before, he passed his hand caressingly
over the folds of hair, and added :
' "You call me your guardian; make me such. I can no
longer be only your friend ; I must either be more, or henceforth
a stranger. My life has been full of sorrow and bitterness, but
you can bring sunlight to my home and heart. You were too
proud to be adopted. Once I asked you to be my child. Ah I
I did not know my own heart then. Our separation during the
yellow fever season first taught me how inexpressibly dear you
were to me, how entirely you filled my heart. Now, I ask you
to be my wife : to give yourself to me. Oh, Beulah, come
back to my cheerless home! Rest your lonely heart, my proud
darling."
" Impossible. Do not ask it. I cannot. I cannot," cried
Beulah, shuddering violently.
" Why not, my little Beulah ?"
He clasped his arm around her, and drew her close to him
BETJLAH. 401
while his head was bent so low, that his brown hair touched her
cheek.
" Oh, sir, I would rather die! I should be miserable as your
wife. You do not love me, sir ; you are lonely, and miss my
presence in your house; but that is not love, and marriage would
be a mockery. You would despise a wife who was such only
from gratitude. Do not ask this of me ; we would both be
wretched. You pity my loneliness and poverty, and I reverence
you; nay, more, I love you, sir, as my best friend; I love you as
my protector. You are all I have on earth to look to for sym<
pathy and guidance. You are all I have, but I cannot marry
you; oh, no, no! a thousand times, no!" She shrank away from
the touch of his lips on her brow, and an expression of hopeless
suffering settled upon her face.
He withdrew his arm, and rose.
" Beulah, I have seen sun-lit bubbles gliding swiftly on the
bosom of a clear brook, and casting golde. shadows down upon
the pebbly bed. Such, a shadow you are now chasing; ah, child,
the shadow of a gilded bubble! Panting and eager, you clutch
at it; the bubble dances on, the shadow with it; and Beulah,
you will never, never grasp it. Ambition such as yours, which
aims at literary fame, is the deadliest foe to happiness. Man
may content himself with the applause of the world, and the
homage paid to his intellect; but woman's heart has holier idols.
You are young, and impulsive, and aspiring, and Fame beckons
you oil, like the syren of antiquity; but the months and years
will surely come when, with wasted energies and embittered
heart, you are left to mourn your infatuation. I would save
you from this, but you will drain the very dregs rather than
forsake your tempting fiend, for such is ambition to the female
heart. Yes, you will spend the springtime of your life chasing
a painted spectre, and go down to a premature grave, disap-
pointed and miserable. Poor child, it needs no prophetic vision
to predict your ill-starred career! Already the consuming fever
has begun its march. In far distant lands, I shall have no tid-
402 B E U L A H .
ings of you, but none will be needed. Perhaps, when I travel
home to die, your feverish dream will have ended; or perchance,
sinking to eternal rest in some palm grove of the far East, we
shall meet no more. Since the day I took you in my arms from
Lilly's coffin, you have been my only hope, my all. You little
knew how precious you were to me, nor what keen suffering- our
estrangement cost me. Oh, child, I have loved you as only a
strong, suffering, passionate heart could love its last idol! But
I, too, chased a shadow. Experience should have taught me
wisdom. Now, I am a gloomy, joyless man, weary of my home,
and henceforth a wanderer. Asbury (if he lives) will be truly
your friend, and to him I shall commit the legacy which,
hitherto, you have refused to accept. Mr. Graham paid it into
my hands, after his last unsatisfactory interview with you. The
day may come when you will need it. I shall send you some
medicine, which, for your own sake, you had better take imme-
diately; but you will never grow stronger, until you give your-
self rest, relaxation, physically and mentally. Remember, when
your health is broken, and all your hopes withered, remember I
warned you, and would have saved you, and you would not."
He stooped, and took his hat from the floor.
Beulah sat looking at him, stunned, bewildered, her tearless
eyes strained and frightened in their expression. The transient
illumination in his face had faded, like sunset tints, leaving dull,
leaden clouds behind. His compressed lips were firm again,
and the misty eyes became coldly glittering, as one sees stars
brighten in a frosty air.
He put on his hat, and they looked at each other fixedly.
''You are not in earnest? you are not going to quit your
home ?" cried Beulah, in a broken, unsteady tone.
" Yes, going into the far East; to the ruined altars of Baalbec;
to Meroe, to Tartary, India, China, and only fate knows where
else. Perhaps find a cool Nebo in some Himalayan range.
Going ? Yes. Did you suppose I meant only to operate on
your sympathies ? I know you too well. What is it to you
B E U L A H . 403
whether I live or die ? whether my weary feet rest in an Indian
jungle, or a sunny slope of the city cemetery ? Yes, I am going
very soon, and this is our last meeting. I shall not again dis-
turb you in your ambitious pursuits. Ah, child,"
" Oh, don't go! don't leave me! I beg, I implore you, not to
leave me. Oh, I am so desolate! don't forsake me! I could
not bear to know you were gone. Oh, don't leave me!" She
sprang up, and throwing her arms round his neck, clung to him,
trembling like a frightened child. But there was no relaxation
of his pale, fixed features, as he coldly answered :
" Once resolved, I never waver. So surely as I live, I shall
go. It might have been otherwise, but you decided it yourself.
An hour ago, you held my destiny in your hands; now it is fixed.
I should have gone six years since, had I not indulged a linger-
ing hope of happiness in your love. Child, don't shiver, and
cling to me so. Oceans will soon roll between us, and, for a
time, you will have no leisure to regret my absence. Hence-
forth we are strangers."
" No, that shall never be. You do not mean it ; you know
it is impossible. You know that I prize your friendship above
every earthly thing. You know that I look up to you as to no
one else. That I shall be miserable, oh, how miserable, if you
leave me ! Oh, sir, I have mourned over your coldness and
indifference ; don't cast me off ! Don't go to distant lands, and
leave rne to struggle without aid or counsel in this selfish,
unfriendly world ! My heart dies within me, at the thought of
your being where I shall not be able to see you. Oh, my
guardian, don't forsake me !"
She pressed her face against his shoulder, and clasped her
arms firmly round his neck.
" I am not your guardian, Beulah. You refused to make me
such. You are a proud, ambitious woman, solicitous only to
secure eminence as an authoress. I asked your heart; you have
now none to give ; but perhaps some day you will love me, as
devotedly, nay, as madly, as I have long loved you; for love like
404: B E U L A H .
mine would wake affection even in a marble image ; but ttien,
rolling oceans and trackless deserts will divide us. And now,
good bye. Make yourself a name ; bind your aching brow with
the chaplet of Fame, and see if ambition can fill your heart.
Good bye, dear child."
Gently he drew her arms from his neck, and took her face in
his soft palms. He looked at her a moment, sadly and earnestly,
as if striving to fix her features in the frame of memory ; then
bent his head and pressed a long kiss on her lips. She put
out her hands, but he had gone, and sinking down on the step,
she hid her face in her arms. A pall seemed suddenly thrown
over the future, and the orphaned heart shrank back from the
lonely path where only spectres were visible. Never before had
she realized how dear he was to her, how large a share of her
love he possessed, and now the prospect of a long, perhaps final
separation, filled her with a shivering, horrible dread. We have
seen that self-reliance was a powerful element of her character,
and she had learned, from painful necessity, to depend as little
as possible -upon the sympathies of others ; but in this hour of
anguish, a sense of joyless isolation conquered ; her proud soul
bowed down beneath the weight of intolerable grief, and
acknowledged itself not wholly independent of the love and
presence of her guardian.
Beulah went back to her desk, and with tearless eyes began
the allotted task of writing. The article was due, and must be
finished ; was there not a long, dark future in which to mourn ?
The sketch was designed to prove that woman's happiness was
not necessarily dependent on marriage. That a single life might
be more useful, more tranquil, more unselfish. Beulah had
painted her heroine in glowing tints, and triumphantly proved
her theory correct, while to female influence she awarded a
sphere (exclusive of rostrums and all political arenas) wide as
the universe, and high as heaven. Weary work it all seemed to
her now ; but she wrote on, and on, and finally the last page
was copied and the last punctuation mark affixed. She wrapped
B E II L A H . 405
np the manuscript, directed it to the editor, and then the pen
fell from her nerveless fingers and her head went down, with a
wailing- cry, on her desk. There the morning sun flashed upon
a white face, tear-stained and full of keen anguish. How her
readers would have marvelled at the sight ? Ah, " Verily the
heart knoweth its own bitterness."
CHAPTEE XXXII.
ONE afternoon in the following week, Mrs. Williams sat
wrapped up in the hall, watching Beulah's movements in the
yard at the rear of the house. The whitewashed paling was
covered with luxuriant raspberry vines, and in one corner of the
garden was a bed of strawberry plants. Over this bed Beulah
was bending with a basket, nearly filled with the ripe scarlet
berries. Stooping close to the plants, she saw only the fruit she
was engaged in picking ; and when the basket was quite full,
she w%s suddenly startled by a merry laugh, and a pair of hands
clasped over her eyes.
" Who blindfolds me ?" said she.
" Guess, you solemn witch."
" Why, Georgia, of course."
The hands were removed, and Georgia Asbury's merry face
greeted her.
" I am glad to see you, Georgia. Where is Helen ?"
" Oh, gone to ride with one of her adorers, but I have
brought somebody to see you who is worth the whole Asbury
family. No less a personage than my famous cousin Reginald
Lindsay, whom you have heard us speak of so often. Oh, how
tempting those luscious berries are ! Reginald and I intend to
stay to tea, and father will perhaps come out in the carriage for
406 BE TIL AH.
us. Come, yonder is my cousin on the gallery looking at you,
and pretending to talk to Mrs. Williams. He has read your
magazine sketches and is very anxious to see you. How nicely
you look ; only a little too statuish. Can't you get up a smile ?
That is better. Here, let me twine this cluster of wisteria in
your hair; I stole it as I ran up the steps."
Beulah was clad in a pure white mull muslin, and wore a
short black silk apron, confined at the waist by a heavy cord
and tassel. Georgia fastened the purple blossoms in her silky
hair, and they entered the house. Mr. Lindsay met them, and
as his cousin introduced him, Beulah looked at him, and met the
earnest gaze of a pair of deep blue eyes, which seemed to index
a nature singularly tranquil. She greeted him quietly, and
would have led the way to the front of the house, but Georgia
threw herself down on the steps, and exclaimed, eagerly :
" Do let us stay here ; the air is so deliciously sweet and cool.
Cousin, there is a chair. Beulah, you and I will stem these
berries at once, so that they may be ready for tea."
She took the basket, and soon their fingers were stained with
the rosy juice of the fragrant fruit. All restraint vanished ;
the conversation was gay, and spiced now and then with repar-
tees, which elicited Georgia's birdish laugh, and banished for a
time the weary, joyless expression of Beulah's countenance.
The berries were finally arranged to suit Georgia's taste, and the
party returned to the little parlor. Here Beulah was soon
engaged by Mr. Lindsay, in the discussion of some of the lead-
ing literary questions of the day. She forgot the great sorrow
that brooded over her heart, a faint, pearly glow crept into her
cheeks, and the mouth lost its expression of resolute endurance.
She found Mr. Lindsay highly cultivated in his tastes, polished
in his manners, and possessed of rare intellectual attainments,
while the utter absence of egotism and pedantry, impressed her
with involuntary admiration. Extensive travel, and long study,
had familiarized him with almost every branch of science and
department of literature, and the ease and grace with which he
B E U L A H . 407
imparted some information she desired, respecting the European
schools of art, contrasted favorably with the confused account
Eugene had rendered of the same subject. She remarked a sin-
gular composure of countenance, voice, and even position, which
seemed idiosyncratic, and was directly opposed to the stern
rigidity and cynicism of her guardian. She shrank from the
calm, steadfast gaze of his eyes, which looked into hers, with a
deep yet gentle scrutiny, and resolved ere the close of the even-
ing to sound him, concerning some of the philosophic phases of
the age. Had he escaped the upas taint of skepticism ? An
opportunity soon occurred to favor her wishes, for chancing to
allude to his visit to Kydal Mount, while in the lake region of
England, the transition to a discussion of the metaphysical tone
of the " Excursion," was quite easy.
" You seemed disposed, like Howitt, to accord it the title of
1 Bible of Quakerism,' " said Mr. Lindsay, in answer to a remark
of hers concerning its tendency.
" It is a fertile theme of disputation, sir, and since critics are
so divided in their verdicts, I may well be pardoned an opinion,
which so many passages seem to sanction. If Quakerism is
belief in ' immediate inspiration/ which you will scarcely deny,
then throughout the ' Excursion,' Wordsworth seems its apostle."
" No, he stands as a high-priest in the temple of nature, and
calls mankind from scientific lore, to offer their orisons there at
his altar, and receive passively the teachings of the material
universe. Tells us,
" ' Our meddling intellect
Misshapes the beauteous forms of things,'
and promises, in nature, an unerring guide and teacher of truth.
In his lines on revisiting the Wye, he declares himself,
" * Well pleased to recognize
In nature, and the language of the sense,
The anchor of my purests thoughts, the nurse,
The guide, the guardian of my heart and soul,
Of all my moral being.'
408 BE TIL AH.
Quakerism rejects all extraneous aids to a knowledge of
God ; a silent band of friends sit waiting for the direct inspira-
tion, which alone can impart true light. Wordsworth made the
senses, the appreciation of the beauty and sublimity of the
universe, an avenue of light ; while Quakerism, according to
the doctrines of Fox and his early followers, is merely a form of
mysticism, nearly allied to the ' ecstasy ' of Plotinus. The
Quaker silences his reason, his every faculty, and in utter pas-
sivity waits for the infusion of divine light into his mind ; the
mystic of Alexandria, as far as possible, divests his intellect of
all personality, and becomes absorbed in the Infinite intelligence
from which it emanated."
Beulah knitted her brows, and answered musingly :
" And here, then, extremes meet. To know God, we must be
God. Mysticism and Pantheism link hands over the gulf which
seemed to divide them."
" Miss Benton, is this view of the subject a novel one ?" said
he, looking at her very intently.
" No, a singular passage in the ' Biographia Literaria/ sug-
gested it to me long ago. But unwelcome hints are rarely
accepted, you know."
" Why unwelcome in this case ?"
She looked at him, but made no reply, and none was needed.
He understood why, and said quietly, yet impressively :
" It sets the seal of necessity upon Revelation. Not the
mystical intuitions of the dreamers, who would fain teach of
continued direct inspiration from God, even at the present time,
but the revelation which began in Genesis, and ended with John
on Patmos. The very absurdities of philosophy are the most
potent arguments in substantiating the claims of Christianity.
Kant's theory, that we can know nothing beyond ourselves,
gave the death-blow to philosophy. Mysticism contends, that
reason only darkens the mind, and consequently discarding all
reasoning processes, relies upon immediate revelation. But the
extravagances of Swedenborg, and even of George Fox, prove
B E U L A H . 409
the fallacy of the assumption of continued inspiration, and the
only alternative is to rest upon the Christian Revelation, which
has successfully defied all assaults."
There was an instantaneous flash of joy over Beulah's troubled
face, and she said hastily :
" You have escaped the contagion, then ? Such exemption is
rare now-a-day, for skepticism broods with sable wings over the
age."
" It has always brooded where man essayed to lift the veil of
Isis ; to elucidate the arcana of the universe, to solve the unsolv-
able. Skepticism is the disease of minds, which Christian faith
alone can render healthy."
The thrust showed she was not invulnerable, but before she
could reply, Georgia exclaimed :
" In the name of common sense, Reginald, what are you dis-
coursing about so tiresomely ? I suppose I am shamefully stupid,
but I don't understand a word you two have been saying. When
father and Beulah get on such dry, tedious subjects, I always set
up an opposition at the piano, which in this instance I am forced
to do, from sheer necessity."
She raised the lid of the piano, and rattled off a brilliant over-
ture ; then made Beulah join her in several instrumental duets.
As the latter rose, Mr. Lindsay said, somewhat abruptly :
" I believe you sing. My cousins have been extolling your
voice, and I have some curiosity to hear you. Will you gratify
me?"
" Certainly, if you desire it."
She could not refrain from smiling at the perfect nonchalance
of his manner, and passing her fingers over the keys, sang a
beautiful air from " Lucia." Her guest listened attentively, and
when the song was ended, approached the piano, and said, with
some interest :
" I should prefer a simple ballad, if you will favor me with one."
" Something after the order of ' Lilly Dale,' Beulah ; he hears
nothing else in his country home," said Georgia, teasingly.
18
410 BEULAH.
He smiled, but did not contradict her, and Beulah sang that
exquisite ballad, "Why do Summer Roses Fade." It was one
of her guardian's favorite airs, and now his image was associated
with the strain. Ere the first verse was finished, a deep, rich,
manly voice, which had sometimes echoed through the study,
seemed again to join hers, and despite her efforts, her own tones
trembled.
Soon after, Beulah took her place at the tea-table in the centre
of the room, and conversation turned on the delights of country
life.
" Reginald, how do you manage to amuse yourself in that little
town of yours ?" asked Georgia, drawing the bowl of strawberries
near, and helping him bountifully.
" I might answer, that I had passed the age when amusement
was necessary, but I will not beg your question so completely.
In the first place, I do not reside in town. My office is there,
and during the day, when not absent at court, I am generally in
my office ; but evening always finds me at home. Once there, I
have endless sources of amusement ; my mother's flowers and
birds, my farm affairs, my music, and my library, to say nothing
of hunting and fishing. Remember, Georgia, that, as a class,
lawyers are not addicted to what you call amusements."
" But after living in Europe, and travelling so much, I should
think that plantation would be horribly dull. Do you never suffer
trowT ennui, cut off as you are from all society ?"
" Ennui is a disease of which I am yet happily ignorant. But
for my mother, I should feel the need of society ; in a great
measure, her presence supplies it. I shall tell you no more,
cousin mine, since you and Helen are to spend a portion of your
summer with us, and can judge for yourselves of the attractions
of my country home."
" Are you residing near Mr. Arlington ?" said Beulah.
" Quite near ; his plantation adjoins mine. Is he a friend of
yours ?"
" No, but I have a friend living this year in his family. Miss
BE TIL A II. 411
Sanders is governess for his children. You probably know
her."
"Yes, I see her occasionally. Report says she is soon to
become the bride of Richard Arlington."
A slight smile curved his lips as he watched Beulah's coun-
tenance. She offered no comment, and he perceived that the on
dit was not new to her.
" Beulah, I suppose you have heard of Dr. HartwelPs intended
journey to the East ? What an oddity he is ! Told me he con-
templated renting a bungalow somewhere in heathendom, and
turning either Brahmin or Parsee, he had not quite decided
which. He has sold his beautiful place to the Farleys. The
greenhouse plants he gave to mother, and all the statuary and
paintings are to be sent to us until his return, which cannot be
predicted with any certainty. Father frets a good deal over
this freak, as he calls it, and says the doctor had much better
stay at home and physic the sick. I thought it was a sudden
whim, but he says he has contemplated the trip a long time. He
is going immediately, I believe. It must be a trial to you," said
the thoughtless girl.
" Yes, I cannot realize it yet," replied Beulah, struggling with
herself for composure, and hastily setting down her tea-cup,
which trembled violently. The shadows swept over her once
more. Mr. Lindsay noticed her agitation, and with delicate
consideration forbore to look at her. Georgia continued, heed-
lessly :
" I wanted that melodeon that sits in his study, but though
the remainder of the furniture is to be auctioned off, he says he
will not sell the melodeon, and requested my father to have it
carefully locked up somewhere at home. I asked if I might not
use it, and what do you suppose he said ? That I might have
his grand piano, if I would accept it, but that nobody was to
touch his melodeon. I told him he ought to send the piano out
to you, in his absence, but he looked cross, and said you would
not use it if he did."
412 BETJLAH.
Poor Beulah ; her lips quivered, and her fingers clasped each
other tightly, but she said nothing. Just then she heard Dr.
Asbury's quick step in the hall, and to her infinite relief, he
entered, accompanied by Helen. She saw that though his man-
ner was kind and bantering as usual, there was an anxious look
on his benevolent face, and his heavy brows occasionally knitted.
When he went into the adjoining room to see Mrs. Williams, she
understood his glance, and followed him. He paused in the hall,
and said, eagerly : " Has Hart well been here lately ?"
" Yes, he was here last week."
" Did he tell you of his whim about travelling East ?"
" Yes, he told me."
" Beulah, take care what you are about ! You are working
mischief not easily rectified. Child, keep Guy at home 1"
" He is master of his own movements, and you know his stub-
born will. I would keep him here if I could, but I have no influ-
ence."
" All fiddle-sticks ! I know better ! I am neither a bat nor
a mole. Beulah, I warn you ; I beg you, child, miad how you
act. Once entirely estranged, all the steam in Christendom
could not force him back. Don't let him go ; if you do, the
game is up, I tell you now. You will repent your own work, if
you do not take care. I told him he was a fool, to leave such a
position as his, and go to dodging robbers in eastern deserts ;
whereupon he looked as bland and impenetrable as if I had com-
pared him to Solomon. There, go back to your company, and
mind what I say ; don't let Guy go."
He left her ; and though she exerted herself to entertain her
guests, Mr. Lindsay saw that her mind was troubled, and her
heart oppressed. He endeavored to divert her thoughts, by
introducing various topics ; and she talked and smiled, and even
played and sang, yet the unlifting cloud lay on her brow. The
evening seemed strangely long, and she accompanied her visitors
to the door with a sensation of relief. At parting, Mr. Lindsay
took her hand, and said, in a low voice :
BEULAH. 413
" Mo.y I come whenever I am in your city ?"
"Certainly I shall be pleased to see you, when you have
leisure," she replied, hurriedly.
" I shall avail myself of your permission, I assure you."
She had often heard Dr. Asbury speak, with fond pride, of this
nephew ; and as Eugene had also frequently mentioned him in
his early letters from Heidelberg, she felt that he was scarcely a
stranger, in the ordinary acceptation of the term. To her, his
parting words seemed merely polite, commonplace forms ; and
with no thought of a future acquaintance, she dismissed him from
her mind, which was too painfully preoccupied to dwell upon the
circumstances of his visit.
A few days passed, and one Saturday morning she sat in the
dining room, finishing a large drawing, upon which she had for
months expended all her leisure moments. It was designed from
a description in " Queen Mab," and she took up her crayon to
give the final touch, when heavy steps in the hall arrested her
attention, and glancing toward the door, she saw Hal, Dr.
Hartwell's driver, with a wooden box on his shoulder, and Charon
by his side. The latter barked with delight, and sprang to meet
the girl, who had hastily risen.
" How do you do, Miss Beulah ? It is many a day since I
have seen you, and you look the worse of wear too. Haven't
been sick, have you ?" said Hal, sliding the box down on the
floor.
" Not exactly sick, but not so well as usual," she answered,
passing her trembling hands over the dog's head.
" Well, I don't see, for my part, what is to become of us all,
now master's gone "
" Gone !" echoed Beulafi.
" Why, to be sure. He started to the plantation yesterday,
to set things all in order there, and then he is going straight on
to New York. The house looks desolate enough, and I feel like
I was about to dig my own grave. Just before he left, he called
me into the study, and told me that as soon as he had gone, I
414: B E U L A H .
was to bring Charon over to you, and ask you to keep him, and
take care of him. He tried to unlock the collar on his neck, but
somehow the key would not turn. Master looked dreadful sad
when he patted poor Char's head, and let the brute put his paws
on his shoulders for the last time. Just as the boat pushed off,
he called to me to be sure to bring him to you ; so here he is ;
and, Miss Beulah, the poor fellow seems to know something is
wrong ; he whined all night, and ran over the empty house this
morning, growling and snuffing. You are to keep him till mas-
ter comes home ; the Lord only knows when that will be. I
tried to find out, but he looked for the world like one of them
stone faces in the study, and gave me no satisfaction. Miss
Beulah, Dr. Asbury was at the house just as I started, and he
sent over this box to you. Told me to tell you that he had all
the pictures moved to his house, but had not room to hang all,
so he sent one over for you to take care of. Shall I take it out
of the case ?"
" Never mind, Hal, I can do that. Did your master leave no
other message for me ? was there no note ?" She leaned heavily
on a chair to support herself.
"None that I know of, except that you must be kind to
Charon. I have no time to spare ; Dr. Asbury needs me ; so
good bye, Miss Beulah. I will stop some day when I am pass-
ing, and see how the dog comes on. I know he will be satisfied
with you."
The faithful servant touched bis hat and withdrew. The
storm of grief could no longer be repressed, and sinking down on
the floor, Beulah clasped her arms round Charon's neck, and
hid her face in his soft curling hair, while her whole frame shook
with convulsive sobs. She had not beaeved her guardian would
leave without coming again, and had confidently expected him,
and now he had gone. Perhaps forever ; at best for many
years. She might never see him again, and this thought was
more than she could endure. The proud restraint she was wont
to impose upon her feelings all vanished, and in her despairing
BEULAH. 4:15
sorrow she wept and moaned, as she had never done before,
even when Lilly was taken from her. Charon crouched close to
her, with a mute grief clearly written in his sober, sagacious
countenance, and each clung to the other, as to a last stay and
solace. He was a powerful animal, with huge limbs, and a
thick, shaggy covering, sable as midnight, without a speck of
white about him. Around his neck was a silver chain, support-
ing a broad piece of plate, on which was engraved, in German
letters, the single word, " Hartwell." How long she sat there
Beulah knew not, but a growl roused her, and she saw Mrs
Williams looking sorrowfully at her.
" My child, what makes you moan and weep so bitterly ?"
" Oh, because I am so miserable ; because I have lost my best
friend ; my only friend ; my guardian. He has gone gone !
and I did not see him." With a stifled cry her face went down
again.
The matron had never seen her so unnerved before, and
wondered at the vehemence of her grief, but knew her nature
too well to attempt consolation. Beulah lifted the box and
retired to her own room, followed by Charon. Securing the door,
she put the case on the table and looked at it wistfully. Were
her conjectures, her hopes correct ? She raised the lid, and un-
wrapped the frame, and there was the noble head of her guar-
dian. She hung the portrait on a hook just above her desk, and
then stood, with streaming eyes, looking up at it. It had been
painted a few weeks after his marriage, and represented him in
the full morning of manhood, ere his heart was embittered, and
his clear brow overshadowed. The artist had suffered a ray of
.sunshine to fall on the brown hair that rippled round his white
temples, with careless grace. There was no moustache to shade
the sculptured lips, and they seemed about to part in one of those
rare, fascinating smiles which Beulah had often watched for in
vain. The matchless eyes looked down at her, with brooding
tenderness in their hazel depths, and now seemed to question her
uncontrollable grief. Yet she had pained him j had in part
416 BEULAH.
caused his exile from' the home of his youth, and added another
sorrow to those which now veiled that peerless face in gloom.
He had placed his happiness in her hands ; had asked her to
be his wife. She looked at the portrait, and shuddered and
moaned. She loved him above all others ; loved him as a child
adores its father ; but how could she, who had so reverenced
him, consent to become his wife ? Besides, she could not believe
he loved her. He liked her ; pitied her isolation and orphan-
age ; felt the need of her society, and wanted her always in his
home. But she could not realize that he, who so worshipped
beauty, could possibly love her. It was all like a hideous dream
which morning would dispel ; but there was the reality, and
there was Charon looking steadily up at the portrait he was at
no loss to recognize.
" Oh, if I could have seen him once more. If he had parted
with me in kindness, it would not be so intolerable. But to
remember his stern, sad face, as last I saw it ; oh, how can I
bear it ! To have it haunting me through life, like a horrible
spectre ; no friendly words to cherish ; no final message ; all
gloom and anger. Oh, how shall I bear it 1" and she fell on
Charon's neck and wept bitterly.
CHAPTER XXXIII.
IN the early days of summer, Mr. and Mrs. Graham left the
city for one of the fashionable watering-places on the Gulf,
accompanied by Antoinette. Eugene remained, on some pretext
of business, but promised to follow in a short time. The week
subsequent to their departure saw a party of gentlemen assem-
bled to dine at his house. The long afternoon wore away, still
they sat round the table. The cloth had been removed, and
only wine and cigars remained j bottle after bottle was emptied,
B E U J, A II . 417
and finally decanters were in requisition. The servants shrugged
their shoulders, and looked on with amused expectancy. The
conversation grew loud and boisterous, now and then flavored
with oaths ; twilight came on the shutters were closed the
magnificent chandelier lighted. Eugene seized a crystal ice
bowl, and was about to extract a lump of ice when it fell from
his fingers and shivered to atoms. A roar of laughter succeeded
the exploit, and uncorking a fresh bottle 'of champagne, he
demanded a song. Already a few of the guests were leaning on
the table stupefied, but several began the strain. It was
a genuine Bacchanalian ode, and the deafening shout rose to the
frescoed ceiling as the revellers leaned forward and touched their
glasses. Touched, did I say ; it were better written clashed.
There was a ringing chorus as crystal met crystal; glittering
fragments flew in every direction ; down ran the foaming wine,
thick with splintered glass, on the rosewood table. But the
strain was kept up ; fresh glasses were supplied ; fresh bottles
drained ; the waiters looked on, wondered where all this would
end, and pointed to the ruin of the costly service. The brilliant
gaslight shone on a scene of recklessness pitiable indeed. All
were young men, and, except Eugene, all unmarried ; but they
seemed familiar with such occasions. One or two, thoroughly
intoxicated, lay with their heads on the table, unconscious of
what passed ; others struggled to sit upright, yet the shout
was still raised from time to time.
" Fill up, and let us have that glorious song from Lucrezia
Borgia. Hey, Proctor!" cried Eugene.
" That is poor fun without Vincent. He sings it equal to
Vestvali. Fill up there, Munroe, and shake up Cowdon. Come,
begin, and "
He raised his glass with a disgusting oath, and was about to
commence, when Munroe said, stammeringly:
" Where is Fred, anyhow ? He is a devilish fine fellow for a
frolic. I "
" Why, gone to the coast with Graham's pretty wife. He is
18*
418 BEULAH.
all devotion. They waltz and ride, and in fine, he is her admirer
par excellence. Stop your stupid stammering, and begin."
Eugene half rose at this insulting mention of his wife's name,
but the song was now ringing around him, and sinking back, he,
too, raised his unsteady voice. Again and again, the words were
madly shouted; and then, dashing his empty glass against the
marble mantel, Proctor swore he would not drink another drop.
What a picture of degradation ! Disordered hair, soiled clothes,
flushed, burning cheeks, glaring eyes, and nerveless hands.
Eugene attempted to rise, but fell back in his chair, tearing off
his cravat, which seemed to suffocate him. Proctor, who was
too thoroughly inured to such excesses to feel it as sensibly as
the remainder of the party, laughed brutally, and kicking over &
chair which stood in his way, grasped his host by the arm, and
exclaimed :
" Come out of this confounded room; it 'is as hot as a furnace;
and let us have a ride to cool us. Come. Munroe and Cowdon
must look after the others. By Jove, Graham, old father Bac-
chus himself could not find fault with your cellar. Come."
Each took a cigar from the stand, and descended to the front
door, where a light buggy was waiting the conclusion of the
revel. It was a cloudless July night, and the full moon poured
a flood of silver light over the silent earth. Proctor assisted
Eugene into the buggy, and gathering up the reins, seized the
whip, gave a flourish and shout, and off sprang the spirited
horse, which the groom could, with difficulty, hold until the
riders were seated.
" Now, Graham, I will bet a couple of baskets of Heidsick
that my royal Telegraph will make the first mile post in 2:30.
What say you ?"
"Done; 2:40 is the lowest."
"Phew! Telegraph, my jewel, show what manner of flesh
you are made of. Now, then, out with your watch."
He shook the reins, and the horse rushed forward like an
arrow. Before the mile post was reached, it became evident
BETJLAH. 419
that Telegraph had taken the game entirely out of his master's
hands. In vain the reins were tightened. Proctor leaned so far
back that his hat fell off. Still the frantic horse sped on. The
mile post flashed by, but Eugene could barely sit erect, much
less note the time. At this stage of the proceedings, the whir
of wheels behind gave a new impetus to Telegraph's flying feet.
They were near a point in the road where an alley led off at
right angles, and thinking, doubtless, that it was time to retrace
his steps, the horse dashed down the alley, heedless of Proctor's
efforts to restrain him, and turning into a neighboring street,
rushed back toward the city. Bareheaded, and with heavy
drops of perspiration streaming from his face, Proctor cursed,
and jerked, and drew the useless reins. On went Telegraph,
making good his title, now swerving to this side of the road,
and now to that; but as he approached a mass of bricks which
were piled on one side of the street, near the foundations of a
new building, the moonlight flashed upon a piece of tin, in the
sand on the opposite side, and frightened by the glitter, he
plunged toward the bricks. The wheels struck, the buggy
tilted, then came down again with a terrible jolt, and Eugene
was; thrown out on the pile. Proctor was jerked over the dash-
board, dragged some distance, and finally left in the sand, while
Telegraph ran on to the stable.
It was eleven o'clock, but Beulah was writing in her own
room ; and through the open window, heard the thundering
tramp, the rattle among the bricks, Proctor's furious curses,
and surmised that some accident had happened. She sprang to
the window, saw the buggy just as it was wheeled on, and
hoped nothing was hurt. But Charon, who slept on the portico,
leaped over the paling, ran around the bricks, and barked
alarmingly. She unlocked the door, saw that no one was pass-
ing, and opening the little gate, looked out. Charon stood
watching a prostrate form, and she fearlessly crossed the street
and bent over the body. One arm was crushed beneath him;
the other thrown up over the face. She recognized the watch
420 B E U L A H .
chain, which was of a curious pattern ; and, for an instant, all
objects swam before her. She felt faint; her heart seemed to
grow icy and numb; but with a great effort, she moved the arm,
and looked on the face, gleaming in the moonlight. Trembling
like a weed in a wintry blast, she knelt beside him. He was
insensible, but not dead; though it was evident there must have
been some severe contusion about the bead. She saw that no
time should be lost, and running into one of the neighboring
houses, knocked violently. The noise of the horse and buggy
had already aroused the inmates, and very soon the motionless
form was borne into Beulah's little cottage, and placed on a
couch, while a messenger was dispatched "for Dr. Asbury.
Eugene remained just as they placed him; and kneeling beside
him, Beulah held his cold hands in hers, and watched, in almost
breathless anxiety, for some return of animation. She knew that
he was intoxicated; that this, and this only, caused the acci-
dent; and tears of shame and commiseration trickled down her
cheeks. Since their parting interview, previous to his marriage,
they had met but once, and then in silence, beside Cornelia in
her dying hour. It was little more than a year since she , had
risked his displeasure, and remonstrated with him on his ruinous
course; and that comparatively short period had wrought pain-
ful changes in his once noble, handsome face. She had hoped
that Cornelia's dying prayer would save him; but now, alas, it
was too apparent that the appeal had been futile. She knew
not that his wife was absent, and determined to send for her as
soon as possible. The long hour of waiting seemed an eternity;
but, at last, Dr. Asbury came, and carefully examined the
bruised limbs. Beulah grasped his arm.
" Oh ! will he die ?"
" I don't know, child ; this arm is badly fractured, and I am
afraid there is a severe injury on the back of the head. It won't
do to move him home, so send Hal in from my buggy, to help
put him in bed. Have me some bandages at once, Beulah."
As they carried him into Mrs. Williams' room, and prepared
BETJLAH. 421
to set the fractured arm, he groaned, and for a moment struggled,
then relapsed into a heavy stupor. Dr. Asbury carefully straight-
ened and bandaged the limb, and washed the blood from his
temples, where a gash had been inflicted in the fall.
" Will you go to his wife at once, sir, and inform her of his
condition ?" said Beulah, who stood by the blood-stained pillow,
pale and anxious.
" Don't you know his wife is not here ? She has gone for the
summer. Wife did I say ? she does not deserve the sacred
name ! If he had had a wife, he would never have come to this
ruin and disgrace. It is nothing more than I expected when he
married her. I could easily put her soul on the end of a lancet,
and as for heart she has none at all ? She is a pretty flirt,
fonder of admiration than of her husband. I will write by the
earliest mail, informing Graham of the accident and its possible
consequences, and perhaps respect for the opinion of the world
may bring her home to him. Beulah, it is a difficult matter to
believe that that drunken, stupid victim there is Eugene Graham,
who promised to become an honor to his friends and his name.
Satan must have established the first distillery ; the institution
smacks of the infernal ! Child, keep ice upon that head, will
you, and see that as soon as possible he takes a spoonful of the
medicine I mixed just now. I am afraid it will be many days
before he leaves this house. If he lives, the only consolation is,
that it may be a lesson and warning to him. I will be back in
an hour or so. As for Proctor, whom I met limping home, it
would have been a blessing to the other young men of the city,
and to society generally, if he had never crawled out of the
sand where he was thrown."
A little while after, the silence was broken by a heavy sob,
and glancing up, Beulah perceived the matron standing near th'e
bed, gazing at the sleeper.
" Oh, that he should come to this ! I would ten thousand
times rather he had died in his unstained boyhood."
" If he lives, this accident may be his salvation."
4:22 B E U L A H .
" God grant it may God grant it may 1'
Falling on her knees, the aged woman put up a prayer of pas-
sionate entreaty, that Almighty God would spare his life, and
save him from a drunkard's fate.
" If I, too, could pray for him, it might ease my aching heart,"
thought Beulah, as she listened to the imploring words of the
matron.
And why not ? Ah I the murky vapors of unbelief shrouded
the All-Father from her wandering soul. Dawn looked in upon
two sorrowing watchers beside that stupid slumberer, and showed
that the physician's fears were realized ; a raging fever had set
in, and this night was but the commencement of long and dreary
vigils. About noon, Beulah was crossing the hall, with a bowl
of ice in her hand, when some one at the door pronounced her
name, and Proctor approached her, accompanied by Cowdon.
She had once met the former at Mr. Graham's, and having heard
Cornelia regret the miserable influence he exerted over her
brother, was prepared to receive him coldly.
" We have come to see Graham, madam," said he, shrink-
ing from her sad, searching eyes, yet assuming an air of haughty
indifference.
" You cannot see -him, sir."
" But I tell you, I must ! I shall remove him to his own
house, where he can be properly attended to. Where is he ?"
" The physician particularly urged the necessity of keeping
everything quiet. He shall not be disturbed ; but as he is
unconscious, perhaps it will afford you some gratification to
behold the ruin you have wrought. Gentlemen, here is your
victim."
She opened the door and suffered them to stand on the
threshold and look at the prostrate form, with the head enve-
loped in icy cloths, and the face bloated and purplish from
bruises and feve.r. Neither Proctor nor his companion oould
endure the smile of withering contempt which curled her lips, as
she pointed to the victim of 4beir temptations and influence, and
B E u L A n . . 423
with a half-suppressed imprecation, Proctor turned on his heel
and left the house. Apparently this brief visit quite satisfied them,
for it was not repeated. Days and nights of unremitted watch-
ing ensued ; Eugene was wildly delirious, now singing snatches
of drinking songs, and waving his hand, as if to his guests ; and
now bitterly upbraiding his wife for her heartlessness and folly.
The confinement of his fractured arm frenzied him ; often he
struggled violently to free himself, fancying that he was incarcer-
ated in some horrid dungeon. On the morning of the fourth day
after the accident, a carriage stopped at the cottage gate, and
springing out, Mr. Graham hurried into the house. As he
entered the sick-room, and caught sight of the tossing sufferer,
a groan escaped him, and he covered his eyes an instant, as if
to shut out the vision. Eugene imagined he saw one of the
Heidelberg professors, and laughing immoderately, began a rapid
conversation in German. Mr. Graham could not conceal his
emotion, and, fearing its effect on the excitable patient, Beulah
beckoned him aside, and warned him of the possible conse-
quences. He grasped her hand, and asked the particulars of
the occurrence, which had been mentioned to him vaguely. She
told him the account given by Eugene's servants of the night's
revel, and then the denoument in front of her door. In conclu-
sion, she said, earnestly :
" Where is his wife ? Why is she not here ?"
" She seemed to think she could render no assistance ; .and
fearing that all would be over before we could get here, preferred
my coming at once, and writing to her of his condition. Ah !
she is miserably fitted for such scenes as you must have wit-
nessed." And the grey-haired man sighed heavily.
" What I can she bear to commit her husband to other hands
at such a crisis as this ? How can she live away from his side,
when every hour may be his last ? Oh ! is she indeed so utterly,
utterly heartless, selfish, callous ? Poor Eugene I better find
release from such a union in death, than go through life bound
to a wife so unblushingly indifferent !"
424: BEULAH.
Her face was one flash of scorn and indignation, and extend-
ing her hand toward the restless invalid, she continued in a lower
tone :
" She has deserted her sacred post ; but a truer, better friend,
one who has always loved him as a brother, will supply her
place. All that a sister's care can do, assuredly he shall
have."
" You are very kind, Miss Beulah ; my family are under last-
ing obligations to you for your generous attentions to that poor
boy of ours, and I "
" No. You understand little of the nature of our friendship.
We were orphan children, warmly attached to each other, before
you took him to a home of wealth and lavish indulgence. Were
he my own brother, I could not feel more deeply interested in
his welfare, and while he requires care and nursing, I consider it
my privilege to watch over and guard him. There is Dr. Asbury
in the hall ; he can tell you better than I of his probable
recovery."
Ah, reader, is
" Friendship but a name ?
A charm that, lulls to sleep,
A shade that follows wealth or fame,
And leaves the wretch to weep ?"
Mr. Graham remained at the cottage, and having written to
Antoinette of the imminent danger in which he found her hus-
band, urged her to lose no time in joining him. Unluckily, he
was ignorant of all the information which is so essential in the
occupation of nursing. He was anxious to do everything in his
power; but, like the majority of persons on such occasions, failed
wretchedly in his attempts. Almost as restless and nervous as
the sick man, he only increased the difficulties he would fain
have rerr died, and Beulah finally prevailed upon him to aban-
don his efforts and leave the room, where his constant move-
ment annoyed and irritated the sufferer. Eugene recognized no
B E U L A H . 425
one, but his eyes followed Beulah continually ; and when his
delirium was at its height, only her voice and clasp of his hand
could in any degree soothe him. In his ravings, she noticed/ two
constantly conflicting emotions : a stern bitterness of feeling
toward his wife, and an almost adoring fondness for his infant
child. Of the latter, he talked incessantly, and vowed that she,
at least, should love him. As the weary days crept by, Beulah
started at every sound, fancying that the wife had certainly
come ; but hour after hour found only Mrs. Williams and the
orphan guarding the deserted husband. Gradually the fever
abated, and a death-like stupor succeeded. Mr. Graham stole
about the house, like a haunting spirit, miserable and useless,
and in the solemn stillness of midnight only Beulah sat by the
pillow, where a head now rested motionless as that of a
corpse. Mrs. Williams was asleep on a couch at the oppo-
site end of the room, and in the dim, spectral light of the
shaded lamp, the watcher and her charge looked unearthly.
Faint from constant vigils, Beulah threw her arm on the bed
and leaned her head upon it, keeping her eyes on the colorless
face before her. Who that has watched over friends, hovering
upon the borders of the spirit-land, needs to be told how dreary
was the heart of the solitary nurse ? And to those who have
not thus suffered and endured, no description would adequately
portray the desolation and gloom.
The stars were waning, when Eugene moved, threw up his
hand over the pillow, and, after a moment, opened his eyes.
Beulah leaned forward, and he looked at her fixedly, as if puz-
zled ; then said, feebly :
" Beulah, is it you ?"
A cry of joy rolled to her lips, but she hushed it, and answered
tremblingly :
" Yes, Eugene, it is Beulah."
His eyes wandered about the room, and then rested again on
her countenance, with a confused, perplexed expression.
" Am I at home ? What is the matter ?"
4:26 B E U L A H .
" Yes, Eugene, at home among your best friends. Don't talk
any more ; try to sleep again."
With a great joy in her heart, she extinguished the light, so
that he could see nothing. After a few moments he said,
slowly :
" Beulah, did I dream I saw you ? Beulah !" She felt his
hand put out, as if to feel for her.
" No, I am sitting by you, but will not talk to you now. You
must keep quiet."
There was a short silence.
" But where am I ? Not at home, I know."
She did not reply, and he repeated the question more earnestly.
" You are in my house, Eugene ; let that satisfy you."
His fingers closed over hers tightly, and soon he slept.
The sun was high in the sky when he again unclosed his eyes
and found Dr. Asbury feeling his pulse. His mind was still
bewildered, and he looked around him, wonderingly.
" How do you feel, Graham ?" said the doctor.
" Feel ! as if I had been standing on my head. What is the
matter with me, doctor 1 Have I been sick ?"
" Well yes; you have not been exactly well, and feel stupid
after a long nap. Take a spoonful of this nectar I have
prepared for you. No wry faces, man ! It will clear your
head ?"
Eugene attempted to raise himself, but fell back exhausted,
while, for the first time, he noticed his arm firmly incased in wood
and bandages.
" What have you been doing to my arm ? Why, I can't
move it. I should "
" Oh, don't trouble yourself, Graham; you injured it, and I
bound it up, that is all. When gentlemen amuse themselves
with such gymnastic feats as you performed, they must expect a
little temporary inconvenience from crushed bones and over-
strained muscles. Beulah, mind my directions about silence and
quiet."
B E U L A H . 427
The doctor walked out to escape further questioning. Eugene
looked at his useless, stiffened arm, and then at Beulah, saying
anxiously :
" What is the matter with me ?"
" You were thrown out of a buggy, and fractured your arm
in the fall." .
She thought it best to tell the truth at once.
Memory flew back to her deserted throne, and dimly the
events of that evening's revel passed through his mind. A flush
of shame rose to his temples, and turning his head toward the
wall, he hid his face in the pillow. Then Beulah heard a deep,
shuddering sigh, and a groan of remorseful agony. After a long
silence, he said, in a tone of humiliation that drew tears to her
eyes :
" How long have I been here ?"
She told him the number of days, and he immediately asked :
" Have I been in any danger ?"
" Yes, very great danger ; but that has all passed now, and if
you will only be composed and careful you will soon be strong
again."
" I heard my father talking to you, who else is here ?"
He looked at her with eager interest.
" No one else, except our kind matron. Mr. Graham came as
soon as the letter reached him, and has not left the house
since."
A look of indescribable sorrow and shame swept over his
countenance, as he continued bitterly :
" And did Antoinette know all at once ? Stop, Beulah, tell
me the miserable truth. Did she know all, and still remain
away ?"
" She knew all that had been communicated to Mr. Graham,
when he came ; and he has written to her every day He is now
writing to inform her that you are better."
She shrank from giving the pain she was conscious her words
inflicted.
428 B E U L A H .
" I deserve it all ! Yes, ingratitude, indifference, and deser-
tion 1 If I had died, she would have heard it unmoved. Oh,
Cornelia, Cornelia, it is a fearful retribution ; more bitter than
death 1" Averting his face, his whole frame trembled with ill-
concealed emotion.
" Eugene, you must compose yourself. Remember you jeopar-
dize your life by this sort of excitement."
" Why didn't you let me die ? What have I to live for ? A
name disgraced, and a wife unloving and heartless 1 What has
the future but wretchedness and shame ?"
" Not unless you will it so. You should want to \\ge to re-
trieve your character, to take an honorable position, which,
hitherto, you have recklessly forfeited ; to make the world
respect you, your wife revere you, and your child feel that she
may be proud of her father ! Ah, Eugene, all this the future
calls you to do."
He looked up at her as she stood beside him, pale, thin, and
weary, and his feeble voice faltered, as he asked :
"Beulah, my best friend, my sister, do you quite despise
me?"
She laid her hands softly on his, and stooping down pressed
her lips to his forehead.
" Eugene, once I feared that you had fallen even below my
pity ; but now I believe you will redeem yourself. I hope that,
thoroughly reformed, you will command the respect of all who
know you, and realize the proud aspirations I once indulged for
you. That you can do this I feel assured; that you will, I do most
sincerely trust. I have not yet lost faith in you, Eugene. I hope
still."
She left him to ponder in solitude the humiliating result of his
course of dissipation.
BEULAH. 4:29
CHAPTER XXXIV.
THE hours of gradual convalescence were very trying to Beu-
lah, now that the sense of danger no longer nerved her to almost
superhuman endurance and exertion. Mr. Graham waited until
his adopted son was able to sit up, and then returned to the
watering-place, where his wife remained. Thus the entire charge
of the invalid devolved on the tireless friends who had watched
over him in the hour of peril. Betilah had endeavored to banish
the sorrow that pressed so heavily on her heart, and to dispel the
gloom and despondency which seemed to have taken possession
of the deserted husband. She read, talked, sang to him, and
constantly strove to cheer him, by painting a future in which
the past was to be effectually cancelled. Though well-nigh ex-
hausted by incessant care and loss of sleep, she never complained
of weariness, and always forced a smile of welcome to her lips
when the invalid had his chair wheeled to her side, or tottered
out into the dining-room to join her. One morning in August,
she sat on the little gallery at the rear of the house, with a table
before her, engaged in drawing some of the clusters of blue,
white, and pink convolvulus which festooned the pillars and
ballustrade. Eugene sat near her, with his thin face leaned on
his hand, his thoughts evidently far removed from flowers.
His arm was still in a sling, and he looked emaciated and deject-
ed. Mrs. Williams had been talking to him cheerfully about
some money matters he had promised to arrange for her, so soon
as he was well enough to go to his office; but, gathering up her
working materials, the old lady went into the kitchen, and the
two sat for some time in silence. One of his long-drawn sighs
arrested Beulah's attention, and she said, kindly:
" What is the matter, brother mine ? Are you tired of
430 B E U L A H .
watching my clumsy fingers? Shall I finish that essay of
Macaulay's you were so much interested in yesterday, or will
you have another of Bryant's poems ?" She laid down her
pencil, quite ready to divert his mind by reading.
" No, do not quit your draw ing ; I should not enjoy even
Macaulay to-day."
He threw his head back, and sighed again.
" Why, Eugene ? Don't you feel as well as usual this morn-
ing ? Remember your family will arrive to-day j you should be
the happiest man living."
" Oh, Beulah 1 don't mock me. I cannot bear it. My life
seems a hopeless blank."
" You ought not to talk so despondingly ; you have everything
to live for. Rouse your energies. Be indeed a man. Conquer
this weak, repining spirit. Don't you remember the motto on
the tombstone at St. Gilgen ?
" * Look not mournfully on the past it conies not back ;
Enjoy the present it is thine.
Go forth to meet the shadowy future,
With a manly heart, and without fear.' "
" You know little of what oppresses me. It is the knowledge
of my , of Antoinette's indifference, which makes the future
so joyless, so desolate. Beulah, this has caused my ruiu.
When I stood by Cornelia's coffin, and recalled her last frantic
appeal ; when I looked down at her cold face, and remembered
her devoted love for her unworthy brother, I vowed never to
touch wine again ; to absent myself from the associates who
had led me to dissipation. Beulah, I was honest, and intended
to reform from that hour. But Antoinette's avowed coldness,
or, to call it by its proper name, heartless selfishness, and fond-
ness for admiration, first disgusted, and then maddened me. I
would have gladly spent my evenings quietly, in our elegant
home, but she contrived to have it crowded with visitors, as
BEULAH.
soulless and frivolous as herself. I remonstrated, she was sneer-
ing, defiant, and unyielding, and assured me, she would ' amuse '
herself as she thought proper; I followed her example, and went
back to the reckless companions, who continually beset my path.
I was miserably deceived in Antoinette's character. She was
very beautiful, and I was blind to her mental, nay, I may as
well say it at once, her moral defects. I believed she was
warmly attached to me, and I loved her most devotedly. But
no sooner were we married, than I discovered my blind rashness.
Cornelia warned me, but what man, fascinated by a beautiful
girl, ever listened to counsels that opposed his heart ? Antoi-
nette is too intensely selfish to love anything, or anybody but
herself ; she does not even love her child. Strange as it may
seem, she is too entirely engrossed by her weak fondness for dis-
play and admiration, even to caress her babe. Except at
breakfast and dinner, we rarely meet, and then, unless company
is present (which is generally the case), our intercourse is
studiedly cold. Do you wonder that I am hopeless in view of a
life, passed with such a companion ? Oh, that I could blot oat
the last two years of my existence !"
He groaned, and shaded his face with his hands.
" But, Eugene, probably your reformation and altered course
will win you your wife's love and reverence," suggested Beulah,
anxious to offer some incentive to exertion.
" I know her nature too well to hope that. A woman who
prefers to dance and ride with gentlemen, rather than remain in
her luxurious home, with her babe and her duties, cannot be
won from her moth-like life. No, no ! I despair of happiness
from her society and affection, and if at all, must derive it from
other sources. My child is the one living blossom amidst all my
withered hopes, she is the only treasure I have, except your
friendship. She shall never blush for her father's degradation.
Henceforth, though an unhappy man, I shall prove myself a
temperate one. I cannot trust my child's education to Antoi-
nette, she is unworthy the sacred charge ; I must fit myself to
432 B E U L A H .
form her character. Oh, Beulah, if I could make her such a
woman as you are, then I could indeed bear my lot patiently! I
named her Cornelia, but henceforth, she shall be called Beulah
also, in token of her father's gratitude to his truest friend."
" No, Eugene, call her not after me, lest some of my sorrows
come upon her young head. Oh, no ! name her not Beulah :
let her be called Cornelia. I would not have her soul shrouded
as mine has been." Beulah spoke vehemently, and laying her
hand on his arm, she added :
" Eugene, to-day you will leave me, and go back to your own
house, to your family ; but before you go, I ask you, if not for
your sake, for that of your child, to promise me solemnly, that
you will never again touch intoxicating drinks of any kind.
Oh, will you promise ? Will you reform entirely ?"
There was a brief pause, and he answered slowly :
" I promise, Beulah. Nay, my friend, I swear I will abstain
in future. Ah, I will never disgrace my angel child ! Never,
so help me heaven I"
The Sound of approaching steps interrupted the conversation,
and expecting to see Antoinette and her infant, accompanied by
Mr. and Mrs. Graham, Beulah looked up quickly, and per-
ceived Mr. Lindsay.
" Does my advent startle you, that you look so pale and
breathless ?" said he, smiling, as he took her hand.
" I am certainly very much surprised to see you here, sir."
" And I am heartily glad you have come, Reginald," cried
Eugene, returning his friend's tight clasp.
'* I intended coming to nurse you, Graham, as soon as I heard
of the accident, but my mother's illness prevented my leaving
home. I need not ask about your arm, I see it still requires
cautious handling ; but how are you otherwise ? Regaining
your strength, I hope ?"
" Yes, gradually. I am better than I deserve to be, Reginald."
" That remains to be proved in future, ,Graham. Come, get
well as rapidly as possible ; I have a plan to submit to you, the
B E TJ L A II . 433
earliest day you are strong enough to discuss business topics.
Miss Beulah, let me sharpen your pencil."
He took it from her, trimmed it carefully, and handed it back;
then drew her portfolio near him, and glanced over the numerous
unfinished sketches.
" I have several books, filled with European sketches, which,
I think, might afford you some pleasure. They were taken by
different persons ; and some of the views on the Ehine, and
particularly some along the southern shore of Spain, are unsur-
passed by any I have seen. You may receive them some day,
after I return."
" Thank you, I shall copy them with great pleasure."
" I see you are not as much of a pyrrhonist in art as in philo-
sophy," said Mr. Lindsay, watching her countenance as she bent
over her drawing.
" Who told you, sir, that I was one in any department ?" She
looked up suddenly, with flashing eyes.
" There is no need to be told. I can readily perceive it."
" Your penetration is at fault then. Of all others, the charge
of pyrrhonism is the last I merit."
He smiled, and said, quietly :
' What, then, is your aesthetic creed, if I may inquire ?"
44 It is nearly allied to Cousin's."
" I thought you had abjured eclecticism ; yet Cousin is its
apostle. Once admit his theory of the beautiful, and you cannot
reject his psychology and ethics ; nay, his theodicea ?"
" I do not desire to separate his system ; as such I receive it."
Beulah compressed her lips firmly, and looked at her interro-
gator half defiantly.
" You deliberately shut your eyes, then, to the goal his philo-
sophy sets before you ?"
" No, I am nearing the goal, looking steadily toward it." She
spoke hastily, and with an involuntary wrinkling of her brow.
" And that goal is pantheism ; draped gorgeously, but panthe-
ism still," answered Mr. Lindsay, with solemn emphasis.
19
434: B E U L A H .
"No ; his whole psychology is opposed to pantheism I" cried
Beulah, pushing aside her drawing materials, and meeting his
eyes fixedly.
" You probably attach undue weight to his assertion that,
although God passes into the universe, or therein manifests all
the elements of his being, he is not ' exhausted in the act.' Now,
granting, for the sake of argument, that God is not entirely
absorbed in the universe, Cousin's pet doctrine of the ' Sponta-
neous Apperception of Absolute Truths/ clearly renders man a
modification of God. Difference in degree, you know, implies
sameness of kind ; from this there is no escape. He says, ' the
God of consciousness is not a solitary sovereign, banished beyond
creation, upon the throne of a silent eternity, and an absolute
existence, which resembles existence in no respect whatever. He
is a God, at once true and real, substance and cause, one and
many, eternity and time, essence and life, end and middle ; at
the summit of existence, and at its base, infinite and finite toge-
ther ; in a word, a Trinity ; being at the same time, God,
Nature and Humanity/ His separation of reason and reasoning,
and the results of his boasted ' spontaneous apperception, are
very nearly allied to those of Schelling's ' Intellectual Intuition ;'
yet I suppose you would shrink from the ' absolute identity ' of
the latter 1"
" You have not stated the question fairly, sir. He reiterates
that the absolute belongs to none of us. We perceive truth,
but do not create it I" retorted Beulah.
" You will perhaps remember his saying, explicitly, that we
can comprehend the Absolute T'
" Yes, I recollect ; and moreover, he declares that ' we are
conducted to God by a ray of his own being.' "
"Can limited faculties comprehend the infinite and eternal
creator ?"
11 We do not attain a knowledge of him through finite chan-
nels. Cousin contends that it is by means of relation to the
absolute that we know God."
B E u L A n . 435
" Then, to know the absolute, or God, you must be the abso-
lute : or, in other words, God only can find God. This is the
simple doctrine, when you unwind the veil he has cleverly hung
over it. True, he denounces pantheism ; but here is pantheism
of the eclectic patent, differing from that of other systems only
in subtlety of expression, wherein Cousin certainly excels. One
of the most profound philosophical writers of the age,* and one
whose opinion on this point certainly merits careful consideration,
has remarked, in an analysis of Cousin's system, ' with regard to
his notion of Deity, we have already shown how closely this
verges upon the principle of Pantheism. Even if we admit that
it is not a doctrine, like that of Spinoza, which identifies God
with the abstract idea of substance ; or even like that of Hegel,
which regards Deity as synonymous with the absolute law and
process of the universe ; if we admit, in fact, that the Deity of
Cousin possesses a conscious personality, yet still it is one which
contains in itself the infinite personality and consciousness of
every subordinate mind. God is the ocean we are but the
waves ; the ocean may be one individuality, and each wave
another ; but still they are essentially one and the same. .We
see not how Cousin's Theism can possibly be consistent with any
idea of moral evil ; neither do we see how, starting from such a
dogma, he can ever vindicate and uphold his own theory of
human liberty. On such theistic principles, all sin must be sim-
ply defect, and all defect must be absolutely fatuitous.' Eclec-
ticism was a beautiful, but frail levee, opposed to the swollen
tide of skepticism, and as in every other crevasse, when swept
away, it only caused the stream to rush on more madly."
He watched her closely as he spoke, and observed the quiver
of her long, curling lashes ; he saw, too, that she was resolved
not to surrender, and waited for an explicit defence ; but here
Eugene interrupted :
" All this tweedle-dum and tweedle-dee reminds me of Heidel-
* J. D. Morell. Speculative Philosophy of Europe.
436 BETLAH.
oerg days, when a tew of us roamed about the Odenwald, chop-
ping off flowers with our canes and discussing philosophy. Eare
jargon we made of it ; talking of cosmothetic idealism, or hypo-
thetical dualism, of noetic, and dianoetic principles, of hylozoism,
and hypostasis, and demonstrating the most undemonstrahle pro-
positions by appeals to the law of contradiction, or of excluded
middle. I fancied then that I was growing very learned* won-
dered whether Beulah here would be able to keep up with me,
and really thought I understood what I discoursed about so
logically."
" Yon can at least console yourself, Graham, by determining
that
" 'You know what's what, and that's as high
As metaphysic wit can fly.'
I imagine there are very few of us who would agree with some
of our philosophers, that ' the pursuit of truth is far more im-
portant than the attainment thereof 7 that philosophizing is
more valuable than philosophy. To be conversant with the
abstractions which, in the hands of some metaphysical giants,
have rendered both mind and matter like abstractions, is a
course of proceeding I should scarcely indorse ; and the best
antidote I remember just now to any such web-spinning proclivi-
ties is a perusal of the three first lectures of Sidney Smith on
1 Moral Philosophy.' In recapitulating the tenets of the schools,
he says : ' The speculations of many of the ancients on the human
understanding are so confused, and so purely hypothetical, that
their greatest admirers are not agreed upon their meaning ; and
whenever we can procure a plain statement of their doctrines,
all other modes of refuting them appear to be wholly super-
fluous.' Miss Beulah, I especially commend you to these humor-
ous lectures." He bowed to her with easy grace.
" I have them, sir have read them with great pleasure," said
Beulah, smiling at his droll manner of mingled reserve and
freedom.
"What an exalted estimate that same incorrigible Sidney
BEUL AH. 437
must have placed upon the public taste of this republican land
of ours ? In one of his lectures on ' the beauty of form,' I
remember he says : ' A chin ending in a very sharp angle would
be a perfect deformity. A man whose chin terminated in a
point would be under the immediate necessity of retiring to
America he would be such a perfect horror !' Decidedly flat-
tering to our national type of beauty." As Eugene spoke, his
lips wore a smile more akin to those of his boyhood than any
Bculah had seen since his return from Europe.
" Yes, that was to show the influence of custom, be it remem-
bered ; and in the same connection, he remarks, honestly enough,
that he ' hardly knows what a Grecian face is ; but thinks it
very probable that if the elegant arts had been transmitted to
us from the Chinese, instead of the Greeks, that singular piece
of deformity a Chinese nose would have been held in high
estimation/ It was merely association."
" Which I don't believe a word of," cried Beulah, appropri-
ating the last as a lunge at her favorite absolutism. Rising, she
placed her drawings in the portfolio, for the sun had crept round
the corner of the gallery, and was shining in her face.
Mr. Lindsay smiled, without replying, and gave his arm to
assist Eugene into the house. They were comfortably seated in
the dining-room, and Beulah knew that the discussion was about
to be renewed, when a carriage dashed up to the door. Eugene
turned pale, and a sudden rigidity seized his features. Beulah
gave her guest a quick, meaning glance, and retreated to the
gallery, whither he instantly followed her, leaving Eugene to
receive his wife without witnesses. Leaning against one of the
pillars, Beulah unfastened a wreath of blue convolvulus which
Mrs. Williams had twined in her hair an hour before. The
delicate petals wero withered, and with a suppressed sigh, she
threw them away. Mr. Lindsay drew a letter from his pocket,
and handed it to her, saying briefly :
" I was commissioned to give you this, and knowing the con-
tents, hope a favorable answer."
438 B E TT L A H .
It was from Clara, urging 1 her to come up the following week
and officiate as bridesmaid at her wedding. She could return
home with Helen and George Asbury. Beulah read the letter,
smiled sadly, and put it in her pocket.
" Will you go ?"
" No, sir."
" Why not ? You need a change of air, and the trip would
benefit you. You do not probably know how much you have
altered in appearance since I saw you. My uncle is coming out
to persuade you to go. Can't I succeed without his aid ?"
" I could not leave home now. Eugene's illness has prevented
my accomplishing some necessary work, and as I consign him- to
other hands to-day, I must make amends for my long indolence.
Thank you for taking charge of my letter, but I cannot think of
going."
He perceived that no amount of persuasion would avail, and
for an instant a look of annoyance crossed his face. But his
brow cleared as he said, with a smile :
" For a year I have watched for your articles, and .the maga-
zine is a constant companion of my desk. Sometimes I am
tempted to criticise your sketches ; perhaps I may do so yet,
and that in no Boswell spirit either."
" Doubtless, sir, you would find them very vulnerable to criti-
cism, which now-a-days has become a synonym for fault-finding ;
at least this carping proclivity characterizes the class, who seem
desirous only of earning reputation as literary Jeffreys. I am
aware, sir, that I am very vulnerable."
" Suppose, then, that at the next month's literary assize (as you
seem disposed to consider it), you find in some of the magazines
a severe animadversion upon the spirit of your writings ? Dare
I do this, and still hope for your friendship ?"
He watched her closely.
" Certainly, sir. I am not writing merely to see myself in
print, nor wholly for remuneration in dollars and cents. I am
earnestly searching for truth, and if in my articles you discover
B E U L A H . 4:39
error and can correct it, I shall be glad to have you do so, pro-
vided you adopt the Catholic spirit, which should distinguish
such undertakings. Now, if you merely intend to hold me up for
ridicule, as thoroughly as possible, I prefer that you let me and
my articles rest ; but a calm, dispassionate criticism I should
not shrink from. I write only what I believe, and if I am in
error, I shall be glad to have it corrected."
" Miss Benton, may I venture to correct it without having
recourse to the vehicle of public criticism ? Will you permit me
to discuss with you, here in your quiet home, those vital ques-
tions whose solution seems to engage your every thought ?"
She drew back, and answered with a dreary sort of smile :
" I am afraid you would derive little pleasure, and I less profit
from such disputation. I have learned from bitter experience
that merely logical forms of argumentation do not satisfy the hun-
gry soul. The rigid processes of Idealism annihilated the
external world; and Hume proved that Mind was a like chimera;
yet who was ever seriously converted by their incontrovertible
reasoning? I have lost faith in ratiocination."
" Still you cling to opinions founded on its errors. Why not
be consistent, and in rejecting its most potent ally, reject the
conclusions of Rationalism also ?"
" Because I must believe something, gaith in some creed is
an absolute necessity of human nature."
'You distinguish faith, then, from intellectual belief?"
" No ; I compound them ; my faith is based on mental con-
viction," replied Beulah, perceiving whither he was leading her,
and resolved not to follow.
. "And this conviction results from those same processes of
ratiocination which you condemn as unworthy of credence,
because subject to gross, sometimes ludicrous perversions ?"
" I am unable to detect any such perversion or inacuracy in
the cautious course of reasoning which has assisted me to my
present belief."
" Pardon me, but does this fact convince you of the infalli-
440 B E II L A H .
bility of the course ? Have you constituted your individual
reason the sole judge ?"
" Yes ; there is no other left me."
" And your conclusions are true for you only, since the indi-
vidual organism of your mind makes them so. To an intellect
of a higher or lower grade these conclusions would be untenable,
since the depressed or exalted reason judged them accordingly.
You may cling to some doctrine as absolutely and necessarily
true, yet to my mind it may seem a shallow delusion, like the
vagaries of spirit-rappers."
" No ; reasoning is often fallacious, but reason is divine ;
reasoning often clouds the truth, but reason, by spontaneous
apperception, grasps truth," persisted Beulah, unhesitatingly.
" Then truth has as many phases, and as antagonistic, as there
are individuals in the universe. Alt men are prophets; all are
alike inspired ; all alike worthy of trust and credence. Spon-
taneous reason has grasped a number of oddly conflicting doc-
trines, let me tell you, and the reconciliation of these would be
an undertaking to which the dozen labors of Hercules seem a
farce."
" The superstitions of various ages and nations are not valid
arguments against the existence of universal and necessary
principles."
" Why, then, have 4hese principles produced no unanimity of
faith ? The history of the human race is the history of the rise
of one philosophy and religion from the ashes of its predecessor.
There is one universal belief in the necessity of religion, and
this belief built altars in the dawn of time ; but your spontane-
ous reason is perpetually changing the idols on these altars.
The God of one man's reason will not satisfy that of his
neighbor."
Before Beulah could reply, she heard Eugene calling her in the
hall, and was hastening to meet him; but Mr. Lindsay caught
her hand, and said : " You have not yet given me permission
to intrude on your seclusion." She withdrew her hand instantly
BEULAH. 441
" When you have nothing else to occupy you, and wish to
while away an hour in literary discussion, you will generally
find me at home during vacation."
She walked on and joined Eugene in the hall. Antoinette
stood in the door, and they merely exchanged bows, while Mr.
Graham grasped her hand and earnestly thanked her for the
many kindnesses she had rendered to his family. Beulah looked
at the composed, beautiful face of the young wife, and then at
the thin form of the husband, and said, hastily :
" You owe me no thanks, sir ; the claims of true friendship
are imperative. In removing to his own house I trust Eugene's
improvement may not be retarded."
Antoinette tripped down the steps, and gathering the flounces
of her costly dress, seated herself m the carriage. Mr. Graham
bit his lip, colored, and after a cordial good bye, joined her.
Eugene smiled bitterly, and turning to Beulah, took both her
hands in his, saying, feelingly :
"Beulah, I leave your house a wiser, if not less miserable
man. I am going to atone for the past ; to prove to you that
your faith in me is not altogether unmerited. If I am saved
from ruin and disgrace, I owe it to you ; and to you I shall look
for sympathy and encouragement. To you, my best friend, I
shall often come for sisterly aid, when clouds gather black and
stormy over my miserable home. God blesswyou, Beulah ! I
have promised reformation, and will keep my promise sacred if
it cost me my life."
He raised her hand to his lips, and linking his arm in Mr.
Lindsay's, left the house and entered the carriage, while the
latter mounted his horse and rode slowly away.
" You look weary, child. You must give yourself some rest
now," said Mrs. Williams, wiping her eyes with the corner of her
apron.
" Rest I Ah, yes ; if I could find it," returned the girl, taking
the comb from the back of her head, and shaking down the folds
of hair, till it hung round her like a long mourning veil.
19*
B E U L A H .
" Suppose you try to sleep some," suggested the matron.
" I have some work to do first," said she, drawing a long breath,
and wiping the dust from her desk.
Mrs. Williams withdrew ; and, clasping her hands over her
forehead, Beulah stood looking up, with dim eyes, at the cloud-
less face that smiled down on her, until she almost fancied the
lips parted to address her.
CHAPTER XXXV.
MR LINDSAY'S visits grew more frequent. At first Beulah
wondered what brought him so often from his distant home to
the city, and supposed it must be some legal business which en-
gaged him; but gradually a different solution dawned upon her
mind. She rejected it as the prompting of vanity, but again and
again the supposition recurred. The imperturbable gravity and
repose of his manner often disconcerted her. It was in vain that
she resorted to sarcasm and irony, he was incorrigibly unruffled ;
in vain she was cold, repellent, haughty : his quiet smile remained
unaltered. His superior, and thoroughly cultivated intellect, and
the unaffected simplicity of his manner, characterized by singular
candor, rendered him an unusually agreeable companion ; but
Beulah rebelled against the unobtrusive yet constant care with
which she fancied he watched her. The seclusion of her life,
and reserve of her nature, conspired to impart a degree of ab-
ruptness to her own manners ; and to one who understood her
character less than Reginald Lindsay, there was an unhesitating
sincerity of expression, which might have been termed rudeness.
The frequency of his visits attracted the attention of strangers ;
already the busy tongue of meddling gossip had connected their
names ; Dr. Asbury, too, bantered her unmercifully upon his
nephew's constant pilgrimages to the city ; and the result was,
B E u L A n . 443
that Mr. Lindsay's receptions grew colder and less flattering con.
tinnally. From the first, she had not encouraged his visits, and
now she positively discouraged them, by every intimation which
the rules of etiquette justified her in offering. Yet she respected,
esteemed, and in many things admired him; and readily confessed
to her own heart that his society often gave her pleasure.
Onfc winter evening she sat alone by the dining-room fire, with
a newspaper in her hand, reading a notice of the last number of
the magazine, in which one of her sketches was roughly handled.
Of course, she was no better pleased with the unflattering criti-
cism than the majority of writers in such cases. She frowned,
bit her lip, and wondered who could have written it. The
review was communicated, and the paper had been sent to her by-
some unknown hand. Once more she read the article, and
her brow cleared, while a smile broke over her face. She had
recognized a particular dictum, and was no longer puzzled.
Leaning her head on her palm, she sat looking into the fire,
ruminating on the objections urged against her piece; it was the
first time she had ever been unfavorably criticised, and this was
sufficient food for thought.
Mr. Lindsay came in and stood near her unobserved. They
had not met for several weeks, and she was not aware that he
was in the city. Charon, who lay on the rug at her feet, growled,
and she looked round.
" Good evening," said her visitor, extending his hand.
She did not accept it, but merely inclined her head, saying :
" Ah, how do you do, sir ?"
He laid a package on the table, drew a chair -near the hearth,
without looking at her, and calling to Charon, patted his huge
head kindly.
" What have you there, Miss Beulah ? Merely a newspaper ;
it seems to interest you intensely. May I see it ?"
" I am certainly very much obliged to you, sir, for the chival-
rous spirit in which you indited your criticism. I was just pon-
dering it when you entered."
444 B K U L A II .
She smiled as she spoke, and shook the paper at him.
" I thought I had feigned a style you would not recognize,"
he answered,, quite uncgncernedly.
"You succeeded admirably, with the exception of one pet
phrase, which betrayed you. Next time, recollect that you are
very partial to some particular expressions, with which I happen
to be acquainted ; and avoid their introduction."
" I rather think I shall not repeat the experiment ; especially
as my arguments seem to have failed signally in their design.
Are you quite sure that you understand my review perfectly ?"
He looked a little curious she fancied disappointed and she
replied, laughingly :
" Oh, I think I do; it is not so very abstruse."
He leaned forward, took the paper from her, before she was
aware of his intention, and threw it into the fire.
She looked surprised, and he offered his hand once more.
" Are we still friends ? Will you shake hands with your re-
viewer ?"
She unhesitatingly put her hand in his, and answered :
" Friendship is not a gossamer thread, to be severed by a
stroke of the pen."
She endeavored to withdraw her fingers, but he held them
firmly, while his blue eyes rested upon her with an expression
she by no means liked. Her black brows met in a heavy frown,
and her lips parted angrily ; he saw it, and instantly released
her hand.
" Miss Beulah, my uncle commissioned me to say to you that
he received a letter to-day from Dr. Hartwell. It was written
during his voyage down the Eed Sea, and contained a long fare-
well, as inland travel would afford no facilities for writing."
He noted the tight clasp in which her fingers locked each
other, and the livid paleness of her lips and brow, as the long
lashes drooped, and she sat silently listening. Charon laid his
head on her knee, and looked up at her. There was a brief
silence, and Mr. Lindsay added, slowly:
B E U L A H . 445
" My uncle fears he will never return ; do you cherish the
hope ?"
"Yes, he will come back, if his life is spared. It may be
many years, but he will come, he will come."
Their eyes met; there was a long, searching look from Mr.
Lindsay; she did not shrink from the scrutiny. An expression
of keen sorrow swept over his face, but he conquered his emo-
tion, took the parcel he had brought, and unwrapping a book,
said, in his usual quiet tone:
" When I saw you last, you were regretting your inability to
procure Sir William Hamilton's ' Philosophy of the Conditioned/
and I have taken the liberty of bringing you my own copy.
Read it at your leisure; I shall not need it again soon. I do
not offer it as a system which will satisfy your mind, by solving
all your problems; but I do most earnestly commend his ' Philo-
sophy of the Conditioned/ as the surest antidote to the abstrac-
tions in which your speculation has involved you. The most
erudite scholar of the age, and one of the finest metaphysical
minds the world has ever known, he expressly sums up his vast
philosophic researches with the humble confession: . 'There are
two sorts of ignorances; we philosophize to escape ignorance,
and the consummation of our philosophy is ignorance; we start
from the one, we repose in the other; they are the goals from
which, and to which, we tend; and the pursuit of knowledge is
but a course between two ignorances, as human life is itself only
a travelling from grave to grave. The highest reach of human
science is the scientific recognition of human ignorance.' Like
you, Miss Beulah, I set out to discover some system where no
mysteries existed ; where I should only believe what I could
clearly comprehend. Yes, said I, proudly : I will believe
nothing that I cannot understand. I wandered on, until, like
you, I stood in a wide waste, strewn with the wreck of beliefs.
My pride asserted that my reason was the only and sufficient
guide, and whither did it lead me ? Into vagaries more inexpli-
cable than aught I fled from in Revelation. It was easier to
B E U L A H .
believe that, 'in the beginning, God created the heaven and the
earth/ than that the glorious universe looked to chance as its
sole architect, or that it was a huge lumbering machine of mat-
ter, grinding out laws. I saw that I was the victim of a miser-
able delusion, in supposing my finite faculties could successfully
grapple with the mysteries of the universe. I found that to
receive the attempted solutions of philosophy required more
faith than Revelation, and my proud soul humbled itself, and
rested in the Bible. My philosophic experience had taught me,
that if mankind were to have any knowledge of their origin,
their destiny, their God, it must be revealed by that God, for
man could never discover aught for himself. There are mys-
teries in the Bible which I cannot explain; but it bears incon-
trovertible marks of divine origin, and as such I receive it. I
can sooner believe the Mosaic revelation, than the doctrine
which tells you that you are part of God, and capable of pene-
trating to absolute truth. To quote the expressive language of
an acute critic (whose well known latitudinarianism and disbe-
lief in the verbal inspiration of Scripture, give peculiar weight
to his opinion on this subject), 'when the advocates of this
natural, spontaneous inspiration, will come forth from their
recesses of thought, and deliver prophecies as clear as those of
the Hebrew seer; when they shall mold the elements of nature
toj;heir will; when they shall speak with the sublime authority
of Jesus of Nazareth; and with the same infinite ease, rising
beyond all the influence of time, place and circumstances,
explain the past, and unfold the future; when they die for the
truth they utter, and rise again, as witnesses to its divinity;
then we may begin to place them on the elevation which they
so thoughtlessly claim; but until they either prove these facts to
be delusions, or give their parallel in themselves, the world may
well laugh at their ambition, and trample their spurious inspira-
tion beneath its feet.' There is an infinite, eternal, and loving
God ; I am a finite creature, unable to comprehend him, and
knowing him only through his own revelation. This very reve-
BEULAH. 447
lation is insufficient for our aspiring souls, I grant ; but it
declares emphatically that here 'we see through a glass darkly.'
Better this, than the starless night in which you grope, without
a promise of the dawn of eternity, where all mystery shall be
explained. Are you not weary of fruitless, mocking specula-
tion ?" He looked at her anxiously.
She raised her colorless face, and said drearily, as she passed
her hand over her forehead :
" Weary ? Ah, yes ? weary as the lonely mariner, tempest-
tossed on some pathless ocean, without chart or compass. In
my sky, even the star of hope is shrouded. Weary ? Yes, in
body and mind."
" Then, humble your proud intellect ; confess your ignorance
and inability, and rest in God and Christianity."
She made an impatient gesture, and, turning away, he walked
up and down the floor. For some^ moments neither spoke ;
finally, he approached her, and continued :
" There is strange significance in the Mosaic record of the
Fall. Longing for the fruits of knowledge, whereby the myste-
ries of God would be revealed, cost man Eden. The first pair
ate, knowledge mocked them, and only the curse remained.
That primeval curse of desiring to know all things descended to
all posterity, and at this instant you exemplify its existence.
Ah ! you must humble your intellect, if you would have it
exalted ; must be willing to be guided along unknown paths by
other light than that of reason, if you would be happy. Well
might Sir William Hamilton exclaim : ' It is this powerful ten-
dency of the most vigorous minds to transcend the sphere of our
faculties, which makes a "learned ignorance" the most difficult
acquirement, perhaps indeed the consummation of know-
ledge.'"
He sighed as he uttered these words ; she said nothing ; and,
putting his hand gently upon hers, as they lay folded on the
table beside her, he added, sadly :
" I had hoped that I could aid you ; but I see my efforts are
448 B E U L A H .
useless ; you will not be guided nor influenced by others ; are
determined to wander on in ever-deepening night, solitary and
restless ! God help you, Beulah I"
A shudder ran over her, but she made no reply,
took her cold hands in his.
" And now we part. Since the evening I first saw you with
your basket of strawberries, I have cherished the hope that 1
might one day be more than a friend. You have constantly
shown me that I was nothing more to you ; I have seen it all
along, but still I hoped ; and notwithstanding your coldness, I
shall continue to hope. My love is too entirely yours to be
readily effaced. I can wait patiently. Beulah, you do not love
me now ; perhaps never can, but I shall at least cling to the
hope. I shall not come again ; shall not weary you with pro-
fessions and attentions. I know your nature, and even had I
the power, would not persuade you to give me your hand now.
But time may change your feelings ; on this frail tenure I rest
my hopes. Meantime, should circumstances occur which demand
the aid or counsel of devoted friendship, may I ask you to feel
no hesitancy in claiming any assistance I can render ? And,
Beulah, at any instant, a line, a word can recall me. The sepa-
ration will be very painful to me, but I cannot longer obtrude
myself on your presence. If, as I earnestly hope, the hour,
however distant, should come, when you desire to see me, oh,
Beulah, how gladly will I hasten to you "
" We can never be more than friends ; never !" cried
Beulah.
" You think so now, and perhaps I am doomed to disappoint-
ment; but, without your sanction, I shall hope it. Good bye."
He pressed his lips to her hand, and walked away.
Beulah heard the closing of the little gate, and then, for the
first time, his meaning flashed upon her mind. He believed she
loved her guardian ; fancied that long absence would obliterate
his image from her heart, and that, finally,' grown indifferent to
one who might never return, she would give her love to him
BEULAH. 449
whose constancy merited it. Genuine delicacy of feeling pre-
vented his expressing all this, but she was conscious now that
only this induced his unexpected course toward herself. A
burning flush suffused her face as she exclaimed :
" Oh ! how unworthy I am of such love as his ? how utterly
undeserving !"
Soon after, opening the book he had brought at the place
designated, she drew the lamp near her and began its perusal.
Hour after hour glided away, and not until the last page was
concluded did she lay it aside. The work contained very little
that was new ; the same trains of thought had passed through
her mind more than once before ; but here they were far more
clearly and forcibly expressed.
She drew her chair to the window, threw up the sash, and
looked out. It was wintry midnight, and the sky blazed with
its undying watch-fires. This starry page was the first her
childish intellect had puzzled over. She had, from early years,
gazed up into the glittering temple of night, and asked :
11 Whence came yon silent worlds, floating in solemn grandeur
along the blue, waveless ocean of space ? Since the universe
sprang phcenix-like from that dim chaos, which may have been
but the charnel-house of dead worlds, those unfading lights have
burned on, bright as when they sang together at the creation.
And I have stretched out my arms helplessly to them, and
prayed to hear just once their unceasing chant of praise to the
Lord of Glory. Will they shine on forever ? or are they indeed
God's light-bearers, set to illumine the depths of space and
blaze a path along which the soul may travel to its God ? Will
they one day flicker and go out ?" To every thoughtful mind,
these questions propound themselves, and Beulah especially
had essayed to answer them. Science had named the starry
hosts, and computed their movements with wonderful skill ; but
what could it teach her of their origin and destiny ? Absolutely
nothing. And how stood her investigations in the more occult
departments of psychology and ontology ? An honest seeker of
4:50 BEULAH.
truth, what had these years of inquiry and speculation accom-
plished ? Let her answer as, with face bowed on her palms, her
eyes roved over the midnight sky.
" Once I had some principles, some truths clearly denned,
but now I know nothing distinctly, believe' nothing. The more
I read and study, the more obscure seem the questions I am
toiling to answer. Is this increasing intricacy the reward of an
earnestly inquiring mind ? Is this to be the end of all my glori-
ous aspirations ? Have I come to this ? ' Thus far, and no
farther.' I have stumbled on these boundaries many times, and
now must I rest here ? Oh, is this my recompense ? Can this
be all ? All !" Smothered sobs convulsed her frame.
She had long before rejected a " revealed code " as unneces-
sary ; the next step was to decipher nature's symbols, and thus
grasp God's hidden laws ; but here the old trouble arose ; how
far was " individualism " allowable and safe ? To reconcile the
theories of rationalism, she felt, was indeed a herculean task,
and she groped on into deeper night. Now and then, her
horizon was bestarred, and, in her delight, she shouted Eureka !
But when the telescope of her infallible reason was brought to
bear upon the coldly glittering points, they flickered and went
out. More than once, a flaming comet, of German manufacture,
trailed in glory athwart her dazzled vision ; but close observa-
tion resolved the gilded nebula, and the nucleus mocked her.
Doubt engendered doubt ; the death of one difficulty was the
instant birth of another. Wave after wave of skepticism
surged over her soul, until the image of a great personal God
was swept from its altar. But atheism never yet usurped the
sovereignty of the human mind ; in all ages, moldering vestiges
of protean deism confront the giant spectre, and every nation
under heaven has reared its fane to the " unknown God."
Beulah had striven to enthrone in her desecrated soul, the huu'e,
dim, shapeless phantom of pantheism, and had turned eagerly
to the system of Spinoza. The heroic grandeur of the man's
life and character had strangely fascinated her ; but now, that
BEULAH. 451
idol of a " substance, whose two infinite attributes were exten-
sion and thought," mocked her ; and she hurled it from its
pedestal, and looked back wistfully to the pure faith of her
childhood. A Godless world ; a Godless woman. She took up
the lamp, and retired to her own room. On all sides, books
greeted her ; here was the varied lore of dead centuries ; here
she had held communion with the great souls entombed in these
dusty pages. Here, wrestling alone with those grim puzzles, she
had read out the vexed and vexing questions, in this debating
club of the moldering dead, and endeavored to make them
solve them. These well-worn volumes, with close " marginal ias,"
echoed her inquiries, but answered them. not to her satisfaction.
Was her life to be thus passed in feverish toil, and ended as by
a leap out into a black shoreless abyss ? Like a spent child,
she threw her arms on the mantel-piece, and wept uncontrollably,
murmuring :
" Oil, better die now, than live as I have lived, in perpetual
struggling^ ! What is life worth without peace of mind, with-
out hope ; and what hope have I ? Diamonded webs of sophis-
try can no longer entangle ; like Noah's dove, my soul has
fluttered among them, striving in vain for a sure hold to perch
upon ; but unlike it, I have no ark to flee to. Weary and
almost hopeless, I would fain believe that this world is indeed ^as
a deluge, and in it there is no ark of refuge but the Bible. It
is true, I did not see this souls' ark constructed ; I know no-
thing of the machinery employed ; and no more than Noah's dove,
can I explore and fully understand its secret chambers ; yet, all
untutored, the exhausted bird sought safety in the incompre-
hensible, and was saved. As to the mysteries of revelation and
inspiration, why, I meet mysteries, turn which way I will. Man,
earth, time, eternity, God, are all inscrutable mysteries. My
own soul is a mystery unto itself, and so long as I am impotent
to fathom its depths, how shall I hope to unfold the secrets of
the universe ?"
She had rejected Christian theism, because she could not
4:52 B E U L A H .
understand how God had created the universe out of nothing.
True, "with God, all things are possible," but she could not
understand this creation out of nothing, and therefore would
not believe it. Yet (oh, inconsistency of human reasoning- !)
she had believed that the universe created laws : that matter
gradually created mind. This was the inevitable result of pan-
theism, for according to geology, there was a primeval period,
when neither vegetable nor animal life existed ; when the earth
was a huge mass of inorganic matter. " Of two incomprehensi-
bilities, which was the most plausible ? To-night this question
recurred to her mind with irresistible force, and as her eyes
wandered over the volumes she had so long consulted, she
exclaimed :
" Oh, philosophy ! thou hast mocked my hungry soul ; thy
gilded fruits have crumbled to ashes in my grasp. In lieu of the
holy faith of my girlhood, thou hast given me but dim, doubtful
conjecture, cold metaphysical abstractions, intangible shadows,
that flit along my path, and lure me on to deeper morasses.
Oh, what is the shadow of death, in comparison with the star-
less night which has fallen upon me, even in the morning of my
life ! My God, save me 1 Give me light : of myself I can
know nothing 1"
Her proud intellect was humbled, and falling on her knees,
for the first time in many months, a sobbing prayer went up to
the throne of the living God ; while the vast clockwork of stars
looked in on a pale brow and lips, where heavy drops of mois-
ture glistened.
BETJLAH. 453
CHAPTER XX*XVI.
FOUR years had passed since Eugene Graham returned to his
home, after his severe illness, and now, as he sits alone in his
library, with a bundle of legal documents before him, it is not
difficult to perceive that his promise has been held sacred.
Through the suggestion of Mr. Lindsay, and the persuasions of
Beulah, he had closely applied himself to the study of law, imme-
diately after his recovery. Hopeless of happiness in his home,
ambition became the ruling passion, and scourged him on to
unceasing exertion. The aspirations of his boyhood revived; the
memory of his humiliating course goaded him to cover the past
with the garlands of fame ; and consciousness of unusual talents
assured him of final success. Mr. Graham no longer opposed
the design, as formerly, but facilitated its execution to the
utmost of his ability. Under these circumstances, it was not
surprising that earnest application soon procured his admission
to the bar. His efforts were redoubled, and, ere long, his elo-
quence obtained for him a connection with one of the most pro-
minent members of the profession . The world wondered at this
complete revolution ; many doubted its continuance ; but, step
by step, he climbed tlie ladder to eminence, and merited the
applause which the public lavished upon him. Success only
inflamed his ambition, and it became evident he aimed at politi-
cal renown. Nature had fitted him for the political arena, had
endowed him with oratorical powers of no ordinary stamp ; and
though long dormant, they were not impaired by his inertia. It
was fortunate for him that an exciting Presidential canvass
afforded numerous opportunities for the development of these,
and at its close, he found himself possessed of an enviable repu-
tation. To a certain extent, his wife was elated with his success;
4:54: BEULAH.
she was proud of his acknowledged talent, but her selfish nature
was utterly incapable of the tenderness and sincere affection he
demanded. Their alienation was complete. No bickerings dis-
turbed the serene atmosphere of their home, because mutual
indifference precluded the necessity/ Mrs. Graham gave parties,
and attended them ; rode, danced, spent her summers at fashion-
able watering-places, and her winters in a round of folly and
dissipation, while her husband pursued his profession, careless of
her movements, and rarely in her company. In the lady's conduct,
the circle in which she moved, saw nothing reprehensible. She
dressed superbly, ga-ve elegant entertainments, and was, par excel-
lence, the leader of bon-ton. True, she was quite as much of a
belle as any young lady in the city, and received the attentions
and flattery of gentlemen as unreservedly, nay, delightedly, as
though she had no neglected husband and child at home, who
had claims upon her ; but this sort of conjugal indifference was
in vogue, and as she frowned down, or smiled up, some family
laboriously toiling to reach her circle, her "clique" blindly fol-
lowed her example, and humored her whims. As regarded her
deportment toward her husband, one alteration was perceptible ;
she respected almost feared him ; shrank from his presence,
and generally contrived to fill the house with company when she
was, for short intervals, at home. He ceased to upbraid, or even
remonstrate ; his days were spent in the court-room, or his office,
and his evenings in his library. She dressed as extravagantly as
she chose ; he made no comments, paid her accounts, and grew
more taciturn and abstracted, day by day.
Oh, woman I woman ! when will you sever the fetters which
fashion, wealth and worldliness have bound about you, and prove
yourselves worthy the noble mission for which you were created ?
How much longer will heartless, soulless wives, mothers, daugh-
ters, and sisters, waltz, moth-like, round the consuming flame of
fashion ; and by neglecting their duties, and deserting their
sphere, drive their husbands, sons and brothers, out into the
world, reckless and depraved, with callous hearts, irrevocably
BEULAH. 455
laid on the altars of Mammon ? God help the women of Ame-
rica ! Grant them the true womanly instincts which, in the
dawn of our republic, made " home" the Eden, the acme of all
human hopes and joys. Teach them that gilded saloons, with
their accompanying allurements of French latitude in dress, and
dancing, and the sans-souci manners and style of conversation,
(which, in less degenerate times, would have branded with dis-
grace and infamy all who indulged it), teach them that all these
tend to the depths of social evil ; and oh, lead them back to the
hearthstone, that holy-post, which too many, alas, have deserted 1
Eugene Graham's love and tenderness were all bestowed on his
daughter, a beautiful child, not yet five years old ; the sole com-
panion of the hours spent at home, she became his idol.
It was one sunny afternoon that he finished copying some
papers, necessary in a case to be. defended the following day.
The sunshine, stealing through the shutters, fell on his lofty
brow, pale from continued study ; his whole countenance bespoke
a nature saddened, vexed, but resolute, and leaning forward, he
touched the bell-rope. As he did so, there came quick footsteps
pattering along the hall ; the door was pushed open, and a little
fairy form, with a head of rich auburn ringlets, peeped in cau-
tiously, while a sweet, childish voice, asked eagerly :
" May I come now, father ? Have you done writing ? I won't
make a noise ; indeed I won't."
The gloom fled from his face, and he held out his arms to her,
saying :
'' I have done writing ; you may come now, my darling."
She spraug into his lap, and threw her little, snowy arras
about his neck, kissing him rapturously, and passing her fragile
fingers through his hair. She resembled him closely, having the
same classical contour, and large, soft, dark eyes. He returned
her caresses with an expression of almost adoring fondness, strok-
ing her curls with a light, gentle touch. The evening was warm,
and large drops stood on his forehead. She noticed it, aud
standing on his knee, took the corner of her tiny, embroidered
456 BEULAH.
apron, and wiped away the moisture, kissing the forehead as she
did so. A servant looked in at the door.
" Did you ring, sir ?"
" Yes ; tell Philip I want my buggy."
" Oh, you are going to ride 1 Can I go ? and will we go to
see Aunt Beulah will we ?" She looked at him earnestly.
" Would you like to go there, Cornelia ?"
" Oh, yes ! I always like to go there. I love her, she is so
good ! Let's go to see her, won't you ?"
" Yes, you shall go with me, my darling."
He bent down to kiss her coral lips, and just then Mrs. Gra-
ham swept into the room. She was attired in an elegant riding
habit, of dark purple, while a velvet hat of the same color, with
a long, drooping plume, shaded her face. Her hands were
incased in delicate kid gauntlets, which fitted with perfect ex-
actness. She was a beautiful woman, and the costume height-
ened her loveliness. She started slightly, on perceiving her
husband, and said hastily :
" I thought you were at your office. Cornelia, what on earth
have you done with my riding-whip ? you mischievous little
wretch ! You lost it once before. Go find it ; I am waiting for
it. Go this instant !"
" I don't know where it is," returned the child, making no
effort to leave her father's arms.
Eugene glanced up at his wife j his eyes wandered over her
becoming and beautiful dress, then went back to the sunny face
of his child.
An angry flush dyed Antoinette's cheeks, as she observed her
daughter's indifference.
" Where is my whip, I say ? Flora saw you with it yester-
day, whipping that hobby-horse. I told you to keep your hands
off of it, didn't I ? If you don't go and find it quick, I'll box
you soundly, you meddlesome little brat I"
" I haven't had it since you told me I shouldn't play with it.
Flora tells a story," answered Cornelia, sobbing.
B E TJ L A H . 457
" You did have it !" cried the angry mother, shaking her hand
threateningly.
" Did you see her with it ?" asked Eugene, rising, with the
child in his arms.
" I know she had it 1"
" Did you see her with it, I asked you ?"
" No, but Flora did, and that is all the same; besides, I"
" Here is the whip, ma'am. I found it last week in the hall,
behind a chair, and put it in the cane stand. The last time you
went to ride, you put it and your gloves on a chair in the hall,
and went into the parlor to see some company. Flora picked
up the gloves and carried them up-stairs, but didn't see the
whip."
John, the dining-room servant, handed her a small whip, with
mother-of-pearl handle, inlaid with gold.
" It is no such thing !" cried Mrs. Graham, gathering up the
folds of her habit, and coloring with vexation.
John shrugged his shoulders and retired, and his mistress
sailed out to the front door, where her horse and her escort
awaited her.
" Run and get your hat and cape, Cornelia ; I see the buggy
coming round the corner."
Eugene wiped away the tear-drops glittering on her rosy
cheeks, and she sprang off to obey him ; while in the interim, he
sent for Flora, and gave her to understand that he would allow
no repetition of the deception he had accidentally discovered.
The maid retired, highly incensed, of course, and resolved to
wreak vengeance on both John and Cornelia ; and Eugene took
his seat in the buggy in no particularly amiable mood. They
found Beulah in her little flower garden, pruning some luxuriant
geraniums. She threw down her knife, and hastened to meet
them, and all three sat down on the steps.
Four years had brought sorrow to that cottage home ; had
hushed the kind accents of the matron ; stilled the true heart
that throbbed so tenderly for her orphan charge, and had seen
20
458 BEtTLAH.
her laid to rest in a warm, grassy slope of the cemetery. She
died peaceably three months before the day of which I write ;
died exhorting Eugene and Beulah so to pass the season of pro-
bation, that they might be reunited beyond the grave. In life
she had humbly exemplified the teachings of our Saviour, and
her death was a triumphant attestation of the joy and hope
which only the Christian religion can afford in the final hour.
To Beulah, this blow was peculiarly severe, and never had the
sense of her orphanage been more painfully acute than when she
returned from the funeral to her lonely home. But to sorrow
her nature was inured ; she had learned to bear grief, and only
her mourning dress and subdued manner told how deeply she felt
this trial. Now she took Cornelia in her arms and kissed her
fondly, while the child returned her caresses with a warmth
which proved how sincerely she loved her.
"May I have some flowers, auntie?" cried she, patting
Beulah's pale cheek with her plump, dimpled hands.
" Yes, just as many as you can carry home. Go gather
some."
She sprang off, and the two sat watching the flutter of her
white dress, among the flower-beds. She piled her little apron as
full as possible, and came back panting and delighted. Beulah
looked down at the beautiful beaming face, and twining one of
the silky curls over her finger, said, musingly :
" Eugene, she always reminds me of Lilly. Do you see the
resemblance ?"
" Not in her features ; in size and gay heedlessness of manner,
she is like Lilly, as I saw her last."
" Yes, Lilly's eyes were blue, and your child's are dark, like
your own ; but she never comes up and puts her arms round my
neck, without recalling bygone years. I could shut my eyes, and
fancy my lost darling was once more mine. Ah ! how carefully
memory gathers up the golden links of childhood, and weaves the
chain that binds our hearts to the olden time ! Sometimes I
think I am only dreaming, and shall wake to a happy reality
BEITLAH. 459
If I could have Lilly back, oh, what a sunshine it would shed
over my heart and life ! But this may not be ; and I can only
love Cornelia instead."
Her long, black lashes were weighed down, with unshed tears,
and there was a touching sadness in her low voice. Cornelia
stood by her side, busily engaged in dressing Beulah's hair with
some of the roses and scarlet geranium she had gathered. She
noticed the unusual melancholy written in the quiet face, and
said impatiently :
" With all my flowers, you won't look gay 1 It must be this
black dress. Don't wear such ugly, dark things : I wish you
wouldn't. I want to see you look beautiful, like mother."
" Cornelia, go and break that cluster of yellow berries yonder,"
said her father ; and when she had left them, he turned to his
companion and asked :
" Beulah, have you reflected on what I said the last time I
aw you ?"
" Yes, Eugene."
" With what result ?"
" My former decision is only confirmed, the more I ponder the
subject."
" You have seen nothing of Reginald, then ? He was here,
on some legal business, last week."
" No ; he has been in the city several times during the last
four years, but never comes here ; and except that one letter,
which I did not answer, I have heard nothing from him. I
doubt whether we ever meet again."
" You are a strange woman ! Such devotion as his would
have won any other being. He is as much attached to you now
as the day he first offered you his hand Upon my word, your
obstinacy provokes me. He is the noblest man I ever knew.
Everything that I should suppose a woman of your nature would
admire ; and yet, year after year, you remain apparently as
indifferent as ever."
" And it were a miserable return for such unmerited love to
460 BEULAH.
marry him merely from gratitude. I do admire him, but cannot
marry him. I told him so four years ago."
" But why did you not at least answer his letter ?"
" Because his acceptance was made the condition of an
answer ; a negative one was not expected, and I had no other
to give."
" Pardon me, Beulah ; but why do you not love him ?"
" A strange question truly. My heart is not the tool of my will."
" Beulah, do you intend to spend your life solitary and joyless,
cut off, as you are here, from society, and dependent on books
and music for sympathy ? Why will you not marry Reginald,
and make his home happy ?"
" Eugene, I have told you before that I could not accept him,
and told you why. Let the subject drop ; it is an unpleasant
one to me. I am happier here than I could possibly be any-
where else. Think you I would marry merely for an elegant
home and an intellectual companion ? Never ! I will live and
die here in this little cottage, rather than quit it with such
motives. You are mistaken in supposing that Mr. Lindsay is
still attached to me. It has been nearly two years since he
wrote that letter, and from Georgia I hear that the world
believes he is soon to marry a lady residing somewhere near him.
I think it more than probable the report is true, and hope most
sincerely it may be so. Now, Eugene, don't mention the subject
again, will you ?"
" It is generally believed that he will be elected to Congress ;
next month will decide it. The chances are all in his favor,"
persisted Eugene.
" Yes ; so I judged from the papers," said she, coolly, and
then added : " And one day I hope to see you, or rather hear
of 'you, in Washington by his side. I believe I shall be grati-
fied ; and oh, Eugene, what a proud moment it will be to me 1
How I shall rejoice in your merited eminence."
Her face kindled as she spoke, but the shadows deepened in
his countenance, as he answered moodily :
BETJLAH. 461
" Perliaps I may ; but fame and position cannot lighten a
loaded heart, or kindle the sacred flame of love in a dreary
home When a man blindly wrecks his happiness on the
threshold of life by a fatal marriage, no after exertion can atone
or rectify the one mistake."
" Hush ! she will hear you," said Beulah, pointing to the
little girl, who was slowly approaching them.
A bitter smile parted his lips.
" She is my all ; yet precious as she is to my sad heart, I
would gladly lay her in her grave to-morrow, sooner than see her
live to marry an uncongenial spirit, or know that her radiant
face was clouded with sorrow, like mine. God grant that her
father's wretched lot may warn her of the quicksands which
nearly ingulfed him." He took the child in his arms, as if to
shield her from some impending danger, and said, hurriedly :
" Are you ready to go home ?"
" Is it so very late ?"
" It is time we were going back, I think."
Beulah tied on the hat and cape, which had been thrown
aside, and saw them ride away.
There, in the golden twilight, she mused on the changes time
bore on its swift chariot The gorgeous dreamings of her
girlhood had faded like the summer clouds above her, to the
sombre hue of reality. From the hour when her father (a poor
artist, toiling over canvas to feed his children) had, in dying
accents, committed the two to God's care, she only remembered
sorrow up to the time that Dr. Hartwell took her to his home.
Her life there was the one bright oasis in her desert past. Then
she left it a woman, and began the long struggle with poverty
and trials over again. In addition, skepticism threw its icy
shadow over her. She had toiled in the cavernous mines of
metaphysics hopelessly; and finally returning to the holy religion
of Jesus Christ, her weary spirit found rest. Ah, that rest
which only the exhausted wanderer through the burning wastes
of speculation can truly comprehend and appreciate. She had
462 BEULAH.
been ambitious, and labored to obtain distinction as a writer ;
and this, under various fictitious signatures, was hers. She still
studied and wrote, but with another aim, now, than mere desire
of literary fame; wrote to warn others of the snares in which she
had so long been entangled, and to point young seekers after
truth to the only sure fountain. She was very lonely, but not
unhappy. Georgia and Helen were both happily married, and
she saw them very rarely ; but their parents were still her coun-
sellors and friends. At Mrs. Williams' death, they had urged
her to remove to their house, but she preferred remaining at the
little cottage, at least until the expiration of the year. She still
kept her place in the school-room ; not now as assistant, but as
principal in that department ; and the increased salary ren-
dered rigid economy and music lessons no longer necessary.
Her intense love of beauty, whether found in nature or art, was
a constant source of pleasure ; books, music, painting, flowers,
all contributed largely to her happiness. The grim puzzles of
philosophy no longer perplexed her mind ; sometimes they
thrust themselves before her, threatening as the sphinx of old ;
but she knew that here they were insolvabie ; that at least her
reason was no (Edipus, and a genuine philosophy induced her to
put them aside ; and anchoring her hopes of God and eternity
in the religion of Christ, she drew from the beautiful world
in which she lived much pure enjoyment. Once she had wor-
shipped the universe ; now she looked beyond the wonderful
temple whose architecture, from its lowest foundations of rock
to its starry dome of sky, proclaimed the God of revelation j
and loving its beauty and grandeur, felt that it was but a home
for a season, where the soul could be fitted for yet more perfect
dwelling-places. Her face reflected the change which a calm
reliance on God had wrought in her feelings. The restless,
anxious expression had given place to quiet. The eyes had lost
their strained, troubled look ; the brow was unruffled, the face
serene. Serene, reader, but not happy and sparkling as it might
have been. All the shadows were not yet banished from her
BETJLAH. 463
heart ; there was one spectral form which thrust itself con-
tinually before her, and kept her cheek pale and rendered her lip
at times unsteady. She had struggled bravely against, this one
remaining sorrow; but as time rolled on, its power and influence
only increased. Even now, in this quiet hour, when a holy hush
had fallen on all nature, and twilight wrapped its soft, purple
veil around her, this haunting memory came to stir the depths
of her heart. Charon walked slowly up the steps, and laying
down at her feet, nestled his head against her. Then, fancy
painted a dreary picture, which
" Seemed all dark and red a tract of sand,
And some one pacing there alone,
Who paced forever in a glimmering land,
Lit with a low, large moon."
It was the thought of a lonely man, wandering without aim
or goal in far distant deserts ; away from home and friends ;
joyless, hopeless. One who was dearer to her than all on earth
beside ; who had left her in anger, and upon whose loved face
she might look no more. For three years, no tidings had come
of his wanderings ; none knew his fate ; and, perhaps, even then
his proud head lay low beneath the palms of the Orient, or was
pillowed on the coral crags of distant seas. This thought was
one she was unable to endure ; her features quivered, her hands
grasped each other in a paroxysm of dread apprehension, and
while a deep groan burst from her lips, she bowed her face on
the head of his last charge, his parting gift. The consciousness
of his unbelief tortured her. Even in eternity, they might meet
no more ; and this fear cost her hours of agony, such as no
other trial had ever inflicted. From the moment of her return
to the Bible and to prayer, this struggle began, and for three
years she had knelt, morning and evening, and entreated
Almighty God to shield and guide the wanderer ; to scatter the
mists of unbelief which shrouded his mind. Constantly her
prayers went up, mingled with tears and sobs, and as weary
464: BETILAH.
months wore on, the petitions grew more impassioned. Her
anxiety increased daily, and finally it became the one intense,
absorbing wish of her heart, to see her guardian again. His
gloom, his bitterness, were all forgotten ; she only remembered
his unceasing care and^ kindness, his noble generosity, his
brilliant smile, which was bestowed only on her. Pressing her
face agaiust Charon's head, she murmured pleadingly :
"Oh, Father, protect him from suffering and death 1 Guide
him safely home. Give me my guardian back. Oh, Father,
give me my wandering friend once more 1"
CHAPTER XXXVII.
" FOLD that coat for me, my dear ; there, give it to me, I
believe there is room in this trunk for it."
Mrs. Asbury took one of her husband's coats from Beulah's
hand, and carefully packed it away.
" How long will you be absent, do you suppose 1"
11 Probably not longer than a month. The doctor thinks a
few days at Saratoga will invigorate him. If you had consented
to go, we had intended spending a week at Niagara. I am
sorry you will not go, Beulah ; you would enjoy the trip, and,
moreover, the change would benefit you. Why do you so per-
tinaciously reject that legacy of Cornelia's. The money has
been in my husband's hands for some years untouched, and Mr.
Graham said, not long since, that you might just as well accept
it, for he would never receive a cent of it in return. The origi-
nal sum has been considerably augmented by judicious invest-
ments, and would place you above the necessity of labor, if you
would accept it. Your refusal wounds Mr. Graham ; he told
me so last week. It was Cornelia's particular request that you
BEULAH. 465
should have that amount, and he is anxious to see you in posses-
sion of it. I told him of jour suggestion, that he should add
this legacy to the sum already given to the Asylum ; but he
vowed solemnly, lie would have nothing to do with it. If you
chose to give it to the Asylum, you could do so of course, the
money waj yours ; he never would touch a cent of it. Beulah,
if you will not think me officious, I will say, candidly, that I
think you ought to accept it. That is, use it, for the legacy has
been left, whether you employ it or not."
Beulah looked grave and troubled, but made no reply.
Mrs. Asbury finished packing the trunk, locked it, and turning
toward the door, said :
" I am going up-stairs to see about the furniture in that room
which Georgia calls the ' Pitti Gallery.' Come with me, my
dear.''
She led the way, and Beulah followed, until they reached a
large apartment in the third story, the door of which Mrs.
Asbury unlocked. As they entered, Beulah started on seeing
the statuary and paintings with which she was so familiar in
former years ; and in one corner of the room stood the melodeon,
carefully covered. A quantity of tissue paper lay on the floor,
and Mrs. Asbury began to cover the paintings by pinning the
sheets together. Beulah took off her gloves and assisted ; there
was silence for some time, but on lifting a piece of drapery,
Mrs. Asbury exposed the face of a portrait, which Beulah
recognized from the peculiarity of the frame, as the one that
had hung over the mantel in her guardian's study. Paper and
pins fell from her fingers, and drawing a deep breath, she gazed
upon the face she had so long desired to see. She traced a
slight resemblance to Antoinette in the faultless features ; the
countenance was surpassingly beautiful. It was a young, girlish
face, sparkling with joyousness, bewitching in its wonderful
loveliness. The eloquent eyes were strangely, almost wildly
brilliant, the full crimson lips possessed that rare outline one
sees in old pictures, and the cheek, tinted like a sea-shell, rested
20*
466 BEULAH.
on one, delicate dimpled hand. Beulah looked, and grew dizzy.
This was his wife ; this the portrait he had kept shrouded so
long and so carefully. How he must have worshipped that
radiant young bride ?
Mrs. Asbury noticed her emotion, and asked with some sur-
prise :
"Did you never see this before ?"
" No ; it was always covered, and hung too high for me to
lift the crape." Beulah's eyes were riveted on the canvas. Mrs.
Asbury watched her a moment and said :
" It is an undetermined question in my mind whether beauty,
such as this, is not a curse. In this instance assuredly it proved
so, for it wrecked the happiness of both husband and wife. My
dear child, do you know your guardian's history ?"
" I know nothing of him, save that he is my best friend."
" When I first saw Guy Hartwell, he was one of the noblest
men I ever met ; commanding universal admiration and esteem.
It was before his marriage ; he was remarkably handsome, as
you can readily imagine he must have been, and his manners
possessed a singular fascination for all who came within the
circle of his acquaintance. Even now, after the lapse of ten
years, I remember his musical, ringing laugh ; a laugh I have
never heard since. His family were aristocratic and wealthy,
and Guy was his mother's idol. She was a haughty, imperious
woman, and her ' boy/ as she fondly termed him, was her pride.
His only sister (Mrs. Chilton, or rather Mrs. Lockhart, ) was his
senior, and he had a younger brother, Harry, who was extremely
wild ; ran away from home, and spent most of his time at sea.
Guy was naturally of a happy, genial temperament; fond of study;
fond of art, flowers, poetry, everything that was noble and beau-
tiful, that could minister to highly cultivated tastes. Mr. Chil-
ton was unfortunate in his speculations ; lost his fortune, and
died soon after Pauline's birth, leaving his wife and child
dependent on her mother and brother. May and the old lady
often disagreed, and only Guy could harmonize their dis-
BETJLAH. 467
cords. During a visit to New Orleans, he accidentally met the
original of this portrait ; her family were almost destitute, but
he aided them very liberally. She was very beautiful, and in an
unlucky hour he determined to marry her. She was a mere
child, and he placed her for a while at a school, where she
enjoyed every educational advantage. He was completely fas-
cinated ; seemed to think only of Creola, and hastened the
marriage. His mother and sister bitterly opposed the match,
ridiculed his humble and portionless bride ; but he persisted,
and brought her here a beautiful, heedless girl. Guy built that
house, and his mother and sister occupied one near him, which
was burnt before you knew anything about them. Of course his
wife went constantly into society, and before six months elapsed,
poor Guy discovered that he had made a fatal mistake. She
did not love him ; had married him merely for the sake of an
elegant home, and money to lavish as her childish whims dic-
tated. Ah, Beulah 1 it makes my heart ache to think of the
change this discovery wrought in Guy's nature. He was a proud
man, naturally ; but now he became repulsive, cold and austere.
The revolution in his deportment and appearance was almost
incredible. His wife was recklessly imprudent, and launched
into the wildest excesses which society sanctioned. When he
endeavored to restrain her, she rebelled, and without his know-
ledge carried on a flirtation with one whom she had known
previous to her marriage. I believe she was innocent in her
folly, and merely thoughtlessly fed her vanity with the adula-
tion excited by her beauty. Poor child I she might have learned
discretion, but unfortunately Mrs. Chilton had always detested
her, and now watching her movements, she discovered Creola's
clandestine meetings with the gentleman whom her husband had
forbidden her to recognize as an acquaintance. Instead of
exerting herself to rectify the difficulties in her brother's home,
she apparently exulted in the possession of facts which allowed
her to taunt him with his vife's imprudence and indifference.
He denied the truth of her sertions ; she dared him to watch
4:68 BEULAH.
her conduct, and obtained a note which enabled him to return
home one day, at an unusually early hour, and meet the man he
had denounced in his own parlor. Guy ordered him out of the
house, and, without addressing his wife, rode back to see his
patients ; but that night he learned from her that before he ever
met her, an engagement existed between herself and the man he so
detested. He was poor, and her mother had persuaded her to
marry Guy for his fortune. She seemed to grow frantic, cursed
the hour of her marriage, professed sincere attachment to the
other, and, I firmly believe, became insane from that moment.
Then and there they parted. Creola returned to her mother,
but died suddenly a few weeks after leaving her husband. They
had been married but a year. I have always thought her mind
diseased, and it was rumored that her mother died insane.
Doubtless Guy's terrible rage drove her to desperation ; though
he certainly had cause to upbraid. I have often feared that he
would meet the object of his hatred, and once, and only once
afterward, that man came to the city. Why, I never knew, but
my husband told me that he saw him at a concert here some
years ago. Poor Guy ! how he suffered ; yet how silently he
bore it ; how completely he sheathed his heart of fire in icy vest-
ments. He never alluded to the affair in the remotest manner ;
never saw her after that night. He was sitting in our library,
waiting to see my husband, when he happened to open the letter
announcing her death. I was the only person present, and
noticed that a change passed over his countenance ; I spoke to
him, but he did not reply ; I touched him, but he took no notice
whatever, and sat for at least an hour without moving a muscle,
or uttering a word. Finally George came and spoke to him
appealingly. He looked up and smiled. Oh, what a smile !
May I never see such another ; it will haunt me while I live I
Without a word he folded the letter, replaced it in the envelope,
and left us. Soon after his mother died, and he went immedi-
ately to Europe. He was absent two years, and came back so
stern, so cynical, so unlike his former self, I scarcely knew him.
BEULAH. 469
Mrs. Chilton took charge of his house from the hour of his separa-
tion from Creola, but they were not congenial. He was vastly
her superior, save in intellect, which none of the Hartwell family
ever lacked. My husband is very much attached to Guy; thinks
he has not an equal, yet mourns over the blight which fell upon
him in the very morn of his glorious manhood. About a year
after his return from Europe, he took you to his house as au
adopted child. I wondered at it, for I knew how imbittered his
whole soul had become. But the heart must have an idol; he
was desolate and miserable, and took you home to have some-
thing to love and interest him. You never knew him in the
prime of his being, for though comparatively young in years, he
had grown prematurely old in feeling before you saw him. Poor
Guy ! may a merciful and loving God preserve him wherever
he may be, and bring him to a knowledge of that religion which
alone can comfort a nature like his; so noble, so gifted, yet so
injured, so imbittered."
She brushed away the tears that stood on her cheeks, and
looked sorrowfully at the portrait of the unfortunate young
wife.
Beulah sat with her face partially averted, and her eyes shaded
with her hand ; once or twice her lips moved, and a shiver ran
over her. She looked up, and said, abruptly :
" Leave the key of this room with me, will you ? I should
like to come here occasionally."
" Certainly, come as often as you choose ; and here on this
bunch is the key of the melodeon. Take it, also ; the instrument
needs dusting, I dare say, for it has never been opened since Guy
left, nearly five years ago. There, the clock struck two, and the
boat leaves at four ; there, too. is my husband's step. Come,
my dear, we must go down. Take these keys until I return."
She gave them to her, and they descended to the dining-room,
where the doctor awaited them.
"Beulah, what are you going to do with yourself next year?
You must not think of living in that cottage alone. Since Mrs.
4:70 B E U L A H .
Williams' death, you should abandon the thought of keeping
house. It will not do, child, for you to live there by yourself."
So said the doctor, a short time before he bade her adieu.
" 1 don't know yet what I shall do. I am puzzled about a
home."
" You need not be ; come and live in my house, as I begged
you to do long ago. Alice and I will be heartily glad to have
you. Child, why should you hesitate ?"
" I prefer a home of my own, if circumstances permitted it. You
and Mrs. Asbury have been very kind in tendering me a home
in your house, and I do most sincerely thank you both for your
friendly interest, but I "
" Oh, Beulah, I should be so very glad to have you always
with me. My dear child, come."
Mrs. Asbury passed her arm affectionately around the girl's
waist. Beulah looked at her with trembling lips, and said
hastily:
" Will you take me as a boarder ?"
" I would rather take you as a friend as a daughter."
" Not a bit of it, Alice. She shall pay the highest possible
board. Don't imagine, Miss Independence, that I expected for a
moment to offer you a home gratis. Pay board ? That you
shall ; always in advance, and candles, and fires, and the use of
my library, and the benefit of my explanations, and conversation
charged as ' extras,' " cried the doctor, shaking his fist at her.
" Then, sir, I engage rooms."
" Will you really come, my child?" asked Mrs. Asbury, kissing
the orphan's pale cheek tenderly.
" Gladly, as a boarder, and very grateful for such a privi-
lege."
" Beulah, on reflection, I think I can possibly take Charon for
half price ; though I must confess to numerous qualms of con-
science at the bare suggestion of receiving such an "infernal"
character into my household."
" Thank you," said she, and saw them depart for Saratoga,
BEULAH. 41 1
whither Georgia and Helen had preceded them. Several weeks
elapsed without her receiving any tidings, and then a letter came
giving her information of a severe illness which had attacked the
doctor, immediately after his arrival in New York. He was con-
valescing rapidly when his wife wrote, and in proof thereof, sub-
joined a postscript, in his scrawling hand and wonted bantering
style. Beulah laughed over it, refolded the letter, and went into
her little garden to gather a bouquet for one of her pupils
who had recently been quite sick. She wore a white muslin apron
over her black dress, and soon filled it with verbena, roses and
geranium sprigs. Sitting down on the steps, she began to
arrange them, and soon became absorbed in her occupation.
Presently a shadow fell on the step ; she glanced up, and the
flowers dropped from her fingers, while an exclamation of sur-
prise escaped her.
Mr. Lindsay held out his hand.
" After four years of absence, of separation, have you no word
of welcome ?"
She gave him both hands, and said, eagerly:
" Oh, yes, I am very glad to see you again ; very glad that I
have an opportunity of congratulating you'on your signal success.
I am heartily glad my friend is soon to enter Congressional
halls. Accept my most sincere congratulations on your election."
A sudden flush rose to his temples, and clasping her hands
tightly, he exclaimed, passionately:
" Oh, Beulah, your congratulations mock me. I come to offer
you, once more, my hand, my heart, my honors, if I have any
I have waited patiently : no, not patiently, but still I have
waited, for some token of remembrance from you, and could
bear my suspense no longer. Will you share the position which
has been accorded me recently ? Will you give me this hand
which I desire more intensely than the united honors of the uni-
verse beside ? Beulah, has my devoted love won me your affec-
tion ? Will you go with me to Washington ?"
"I cannot; I cannot."
472 BEULAH.
" Cannot ? Oh, Beulah, I would make you a happy wife, if
it cost me my life!"
" No. I could not be happy as your wife. It is utterly
impossible. Mr. Lindsay, I told you long ago you could never
be more than a friend."
" And have years wrought no change in your heart ?"
"Years have strengthened my esteem, my sincere friendship;
but more than this, all time cannot accomplish."
" Your heart is tenacious of its idol," he answered, moodily.
11 It rebels, sir, now as formerly, at the thought of linking my
destiny with that of one whom I never loved." Beulah spoke
rapidly, her cheeks burned and her eyes sparkled with dis-
pleasure.
He looked at her and sighed deeply, then threw down a
letter, saying:
" Ah, Beulah, I understood long ago why you could not love
me; but I hoped years of absence would obliterate the memory
that prevented my winning you. I made unusual exertions to
discover some trace of your wandering guardian; have written
constantly to my former banker in Paris, to find some clue to
his whereabouts. Through him I learn that your friend was
last heard of at Canton, and the supposition is that he is no
longer living. I do not wish to pain you, Beulah ; bu^ I would
fain show you how frail a hope you cling to. Believe me, dear
Beulah, I am not so selfish as to rejoice at his prolonged absence.
No, no. Love, such as mine, prizes the happiness of its object
above all other things. Were it in my power, I would restore
him to you this moment. I had hoped you would learn to love
me, but I erred in judging your nature. Henceforth, I will cast
off this hope, and school myself to regard you as my friend only.
I have, at least, deserved your friendship."
" And it is inalienably yours," cried she, very earnestly.
" In future, when toiling to discharge my duties, I may believe
I have one sincere friend, who will rejoice at my success ?"
" Of this you may well rest assured. It seems a poor return,
B E U L A H 473
Mr. Lindsay, for all you have tendered me; but it is the most I
can give, the most an honest heart will allow me to offer. Truly,
you may always claim my friendship and esteem, if it has any
worth."
"I prize it far more than your hand, unaccompanied by your
heart. Henceforth, we will speak of the past no more; only let
me be the friend an orphan may require. You are to live in my
uncle's house, I believe; I am very glad you have decided to do
so; this is not a proper home for you now. How do you con-
trive to exorcise loneliness ?"
"I do not always succeed very well. My flowers are a great
resource; I don't know how I should live without them. My
books, too, serve to occupy my attention." She was making a
great effort to seem cheerful, but he saw that her smile was
forced; and with an assurance that he would see her again
before he went to Washington, he shook hands cordially, and
left her. She tied her bouquet, and dispatched it to the sick
child, with a few lines of kind remembrance; then took the let-
ter, which Mr. Lindsay had thrown on the steps, and opened it,
with trembling fingers:
"MR. R. LINDSAY.
" DEAR SIR : Tours of the 3d came to hand yesterday. As I wrote
you before, I accidentally learned that Dr. Hartwell had been in Canton ;
but since that, have heard nothing from him, and have been unable to
trace him further. Letters from Calcutta state that he left that city, more
than a year since, for China. Should I obtain any news of him, rest
assured it shall be immediately transmitted to you.
"Very respectfully,
"R. A. FIELDS."
>
She crumpled the sheet, and threw it from her; and if ever
earnest, heart-spoken prayer availed, her sobbing cry to the
God of travellers insured his safety.
4:74: B E IT L A H .
CHAPTER XXXVIII.
ONE day there came a letter, postmarked from an inland town,
where Beulah had no correspondent. The direction, however,
was instantly recognized, and she broke the seal hurriedly:
"What has become of you, Beulah? and what can have become of my
two letters which were never answered? Concluding you never received
them, I hazard a third attempt to reach you through the medium of letters.
You will readily perceive that we have removed to a distant section of the
State. Ernest was called to take charge of this parish, and we are delight-
fully located here, within a few minutes'^valk of the church. Beulah, the
storm which darkened over me, in the first year of my marriage, has swept
by, and it is all sunshine, glorious sunshine, with me. You know my home
was very unhappy for a time. My husband's family caused misunder-
standings between us, influenced him against me, and made me very,
very wretched. I could not tolerate Lucy's presence, with any degree of
patience, yet she would remain in our house. How it would have ended
only Heaven knows, had not my husband been suddenly taken very ill.
It was on Sabbath morning. He was displeased with me, because of some
of my disputes with his sister, and scarcely spoke to me before he went
into the pulpit. Lucy and I sat together in the rector's pew, hating each
other cordially ; and when Ernest began the morning service, I noticed he
looked pale and weary. Before it was concluded, he sank back exhausted,
and was borne into the vestry-room, covered with blood. He had a
severe hemorrhage from the throat, his physician said, but Ernest thinks
it was from his lungs. I was sure he would die ; and oh, Beulah, what
agony I endured, as I sat beside him, and watched his ghastly face ! But
his illness was 'the blessing in disguise;' he forgot all our disgraceful
bickerings, and was never satisfied unless I was with him. Lucy grumbled,
and sneered, and looked sour ; but I had my husband's heart again, and
determined to keep it. As soon as he was strong enough, I told him how
wretched I had been, and how sincerely I desired to make him happy, if
Lucy would only not interfere. He saw that our domestic peace was
dependent upon the change, and from that hour his sister ceased meddling
with my affairs. What he said to her I never knew ; but soon after his
recovery, she returned to her parents, and I was left in peace. I began,
B E U L A H . 475
in sober earnest, to be all my husband wished me; read the books he
liked (though it was a terrible bore at first) ; read to him ; took part in all
the societies connected with his church ; and, in short, became quite a
demure pastor's wife. Occasionally, my old fondness for fun would break
out, to the horror of some of his antediluvian flock; but Ernest was very
good, and bore patiently with me, and now J am as prim and precise as
any old maid of sixty. At home I do as I like, that is, when Ernest likes
it too. I sing, and play, and romp, with the dogs and kittens; but the
moment the door bell rings, lo. a demure matron receives her guests!
Ernest's health is quite restored, and I am as happy as the day is long.
You should see me working in my garden, and sometimes churning before
breakfast, to give Ernest a fresh glass of buttermilk. I would not change
places with an empress, I am so happy. My husband loves me better
than everything else beside, and what more could I desire? Do come and
see me ; we would be so delighted to have you spend some time in our
home. I am such a genuine rustic, you would scarcely recognize me.
Just fancy me with an apron on, my sleeves rolled up, churning as fast as
the dasher can fly, and singing at the top of my voice. Mother was per-
fectly shocked, when she first came to live with me, and vowed I should
not make a ' drudge ' of myself. Drudge, indeed, because I chose to do
something, with my own hands, for my husband! I told her I would
4 drudge,' as she called it, just as long as Ernest loved such things as I
could prepare for him myself; and I read her those famous remarks of
Lady Mary Montagu, in which all domestic pursuits, even cooking, Is
dignified as a labor of love ; whereupon Ernest gave me a kiss, and mother
declined any further argumentation on the subject. How some of my
fashionable city friends would elevate their fastidious noses at seeing me,
with my check aprons, picking strawberries, or arranging curds for tea!
Come and see me ; do, Beulah ; I am the very happiest woman extant,
that is, I would be, if I could only know something of Uncle Guy. It is
almost five years since he left honje, and for a long, long time we have
heard nothing from him. This is the only sorrow I have. Sometimes I
fear he must have died in some distant land, yet will not believe it. I
want to see him very much ; my heart aches when I think about him.
Dear Uncle Guy ! next to my husband, I believe I love him best. Can't
yoti tell me something of him ? or do you know as little as his relatives?
Ernest says he will walk into our house some day, without any intimation
of his coming. Oh, I hope so ! I endeavor to believe so ! Do write to me.
I often think of you, in your loneliness, and wish you were as happy as
your friend,
" PAULINE."
476 B E TJ L A H .
Beulah laid the letter beside one received the previous day
from Clara, and mused for some moments. They were both hap-
pily married, and she sincerely rejoiced over their fortunate lots;
but Clara had once loved her guardian ; how could she possibly
forget him so entirely ? Was love a mere whim of the hour,
fostered by fortuitously favorable circumstances, but chilled and
vanquished by absence, or obstacles ? Could the heart demolish
the idol it had once enshrined, and set up another image for
worship ? Was Time the conquering iconoclast ? Why, then,
did she suffer more acutely as each year rolled on ? She had
little leisure, however, for these reflections j the Asburys had
returned, and the cottage had been rented by a family, who were
anxious to take possession immediately Such articles of furni-
ture as were no longer needed had been sent to an auction room,
and she sat down in the empty dining-room, to see the last load
removed. To-day she bade adieu to the cottage, and commenced
boarding once more. Her heart was heavy, but her eyes were
uudimmed, and her grave, composed face, betokened little of the
sorrow which oppressed her. Here she had spent five years in
peaceful seclusion ; here she had toiled and earned reputation as
a writer ; and here many hours of happiness had been passed
among her flowers. The place was very dear to her ; it was the
only spot on the face of the wide world she had ever felt was
her home. Home ! if it consists of but a sanded floor, and uri-
plastered walls, what a halo is shed upon its humble hearth ! A
palatial mansion, or sequestered cottage among wild forests, were
alike sanctified by the name. Home ! the heart's home ! who
shall compute its value ? But Beulah must relinquish her retreat,
and find refuge in the home of others. Would this content her ?
Was she to be always homeless ? True, she was to reside v/ith
loved and tried friends, yet she would be a homeless orphan still,
without claims upon one living being. The grave had closed
over the kind matron who had so warmly loved her, and she was
without ties in the world. These thoughts passed through her
mind, as she saw the last chair deposited on a furniture cart,
B E U L A H . 477
and borne away. Charon looked up at her mournfully, as if to
ask :
" Are we homeless ? Where shall we wander ?" She stroked
his head, and went into the flower garden to gather a last bou-
quet from plants she had so carefully tended. An early frost
had nipped the buds, but the chrysanthemums were in all their
glory crimson, white and orange. She broke some of the
beautiful clusters, and with a long, lingering look, turned away.
The black mourning veil was thrown back from a pale, calm face;
and as she walked on, reflecting upon the future, which stretched
dimly before her, she exclaimed :
" Why should I wish it otherwise ? The arms of a merciful
God will shield me, under all circumstances. My life was not
given for a mere holiday. So I but do my duty faithfully, all
will be well. Ah, truly, I can say :
" ' Let me, then, be up and doing,
With a heart for any fate ;
Still achieving, still pursuing,
Learn to labor, and to wait!'
Yes, learn to labor and to wait. The heart cries out fiercely
for its recompense ; is loth to wait. But I can conquer even
this. I will be patient and hopeful. Duty is its own recom-
pense."
Mrs. Asbury spared no exertion to make the orphan happy in
her house. She treated her with the gentle frankness which cha-
racterized her deportment toward her daughters ; and to identify
her with her own family, often requested her to assist in her
household plans. She thoroughly understood and appreciated
Beulab's nature, and perfect confidence existed between them.
It was no sooner known that Beulah was an inmate of the house,
than many persons, curious to see one of whom rumor spoke so
flatteringly, availed themselves of the circumstance to make her
acquaintance. Almost unconsciously, she soon found herself the
4:78 B E U L A H .
centre of a circle of literary people, whom she had ofteu heard
of, but had never known previously. Gradually, her reserve
melted away, and her fine colloquial powers developed them-
selves ; but she wearied of the visitors wearied even of the
themes discussed, and having passed her life in seclusion, found
in solitude a degree of enjoyment which society could not confer.
Helen had married a planter, and resided at some distance from
the city, but Georgia and her husband remained at home. Thus,
imperceptibly, time wore on. Eugene often came and spent an
hour with Beulah ; and still more frequently, Cornelia was sent
to while away an evening with her merry prattle. Very steadily,
Eugene advanced in his profession ; the applause of the world
cheered him on, and an enviable reputation was his at last.
Grasping ambition lured him, step by step ; and it was evident
that he aimed at a seat beside Reginald Lindsay. Rejoiced at
his entire reformation, and proud of his success, Beulah con-
stantly encouraged his aspirations. Antoinette was as gay and
indifferent as ever, and Eugene divided his heart between his
child and his ambition.
By a system of rigid economy in the disposal of her time,
Beulah not only attended to her school duties, her music, and her
books, but found leisure, after writing her magazine articles, to
spend some time each day with the family under whose roof she
resided. Dr. Asbury's health was rather feeble, and of late his
eyes had grown so dim as to prevent his reading or writing.
This misfortune was to a great extent counterbalanced by his
wife's devoted attention, and often Beulah shared the duties of
the library. One bright Sunday afternoon, she walked out to
the cemetery, which she visited frequently. In one corner of a
small lot, inclosed by a costly iron railing, stood a beautiful
marble monument, erected by Mr. Grayson over Lilly's grave.
It represented two angels bearing the child up to its God. Just
opposite, in the next lot, was a splendid mausoleum of the finest
white marble, bearing in gilt letters the name " CORNELIA GRA-
HAM, aged twenty-three." It was in the form of a temple, with
B E U L A H . 479
slender fluted columns supporting the portico ; and on the ornate
capitals was inscribed in corresponding gilt characters, "Silentio!
Silentio /" At the entrance stood two winged forms, crowned
with wreaths of poppies ; and a pair of beautiful vases held
withered flowers. Beulah sat on the marble steps. Before her
stretched aisles of tombstones ; the sunshine sparkled on their
polished surfaces, and was reflected as from countless mirrors.
Myrtle and laurel-trees waved gently in the icy north wind, and
stately, solemn cedars kept guard in every inclosure. All was
silent and still, save those funeral evergreen boughs which stirred
softly as if fearful of disturbing the pale sleepers around them.
Human nature shrinks appalled from death and all that accom-
panies it ; but in the deep repose, the sacred hush, which reigned
over the silent city, there was for Beulah something inexpressibly
soothing. In a neighboring lot she could see a simple white slab
Eugene had erected over the remains of the friend of their child-
hood. Her labors ended, the matron slept near the forms of
Lilly and Cornelia. Here winter rains fell unheeded, and here
the balmy breath of summer brought bright blossoms and lux-
uriant verdure. Mocking-birds sang cheerfully in the sentinel
cedars, and friends wandered slowly over the shelled walks, re-
calling the past. Here there was no gloom to affright the timid
soul ; all was serene and inviting. Why should the living shrink
from a resting-place so hallowed and peaceful ? And why should
death be invested with fictitious horrors ? A procession entered
one of the gates, and wound along the carriage-road to a remote
corner of the burying-ground. The slow, measured tread of
the horses, the crush of wheels on the rocky track, and the
smothered sobs of the mourners, all came in subdued tones to
Beulah's ears. Then the train disappeared, and she was again
in solitude. Looking up, her eyes rested on the words above
her : " Silentio 1 silentio 1" They were appropriate, indeed, upon
the monument of her who had gone down into the tomb so hope-
lessly, so shudderingly. Years had passed since the only child
had been laid here ; yet the hour of release was as fresh in Beu-
4:80 B E TJ L A H .
lah's memory as though she had seen the convulsed features but
yesterday ; and the words repeated that night seemed now to issue
from the marble lips of the statues beside her : " For here we
have no continuing city, but seek one to come." With her cheek
on her hand, the orphan sat pondering the awful mystery which
darkened the last hour of the young sleeper ; and looking back
over her own life, during the season when she " was without God
and without hope," she saw that only unbelief had clothed death
with terror. Once she stood on this same spot, and with
trembling horror saw the coffin lowered. Had death touched
her then, she would have shrunk appalled from the summons,
but now it was otherwise.
" I am the resurrection and the life, saith the Lord ; he that
believeth in me, though he were dead, yet shall he live ; and
whosoever liveth and believeth in me, shall never die."
She believed ; and while a beautiful world linked her to life,
and duty called to constant and cheerful labor, death lost its
hideous aspect. With a firm faith in the Gospel of Christ, she
felt that earth with all its loveliness was but a probationary
dwelling-place ; and that death was an angel of God, summoning
the laborers to their harvest-home. She had often asked what
is the aim and end of life ? One set of philosophers told her it
was to be happy. Another exclaimed it was to learn to endure
with fortitude all ills. But neither satisfied her ; one promised
too much, the other too little, and only in revelation was
an answer found. Yet how few pause to ponder its signifi-
cance. With the majority, life is the all : the springtime, the
holiday ; and death the hated close of enjoyment. They forget
that:
" Not enjoyment, and not sorrow,
Is our destined end or way ;
But to act, that each to-morrow,
Find us further than to-day."
The path of Christianity is neither all sunshine nor all shadow,
BEULAH. 481
checkered certainly, but leading to a final abode of unimaginable
bliss, and with the Bible to guide her, the orphan walked fear-
lessly on, discharging her duties, and looking unto God and his
Christ to aid her. She sat on the steps of the sepulchre,
watching the last rays of the setting sun gild the monumental
shafts that pointed to heaven. Her grave face might have told
the scrutinizing observer of years of grief and struggle ; but it
also betokened an earnest soul calmly trusting the wisdom and
mercy of the All-Father. She sighed as she thought of the
gifted but unhappy woman who slept near her, and rising, walked
on to Lilly's tomb. Ten years had rolled their waves over her
since that little form was placed here. She looked down at the
simple epitaph : " He taketh his young lambs home." The
cherub face seemed to beam upon her once more, and the sweet,
birdlike tones of her childish voice still lingered in the secret
cells of memory. She extended her arms, as if to clasp the
form borne up by the angels, and said tremulously :
" Lilly, my sister, my white-robed darling, but a little while,
aud we shall meet where orphanage is unknown I ' He doeth all
things well I' Ah, little sleeper, I can wait patiently for our
reunion."
As she turned her steps homeward, a shadowy smile stole over
her features, and the lines about her mouth resumed their wonted
composure.
" Beulah, father has been asking for you," said Georgia, who
met her on the staircase.
" I will go down to him immediately," was the cheerful
answer, and putting away her bonnet and shawl, she went at once
to the library. The doctor was leaning very far back in his
favorite chair, and she saw at a glance he had fallen asleep.
Mrs. Asbury sat at a table, weighing out some medicine he had
directed sent to a patient. She looked up as Beulah entered,
smiled, and said in an undertone :
" My liege lord is indulging in a nap. Come to the fire, dear,
you look cold."
21
482 BEULAH.
She left the room with the medicine, aud Beulah stood before
the bright wood fire, and watched the ruddy light flashing gro-
tesquely over the pictures on the wall. The gas had not yet
been lighted ; she crossed the room, and sat down before the
window. A red glow still lingered in the west, and one by one,
the stars came swiftly out. She took up a book she had been
reading that morning, but it was too dim to see the letters, and
she contented herself with looking out at the stars, brightening
as the night deepened. "So should it be with faith," thought
she, " and yet, as troubles come thick and fast, we are apt to
despair." Mrs. Asbury came back and lighted the gas, but Beu-
lah was too much absorbed to notice it. The doctor waked, and
began to talk about the severity of the winter further north, and
the suffering it produced among the poor. Presently he said :
" What has become of that child, Beulah do you know,
Alice ?"
" Yes ; there she is by the window. You were asleep when
she came in."
He looked round and called to her.
"What are you thinking about, Beulah ? You look as cold
as an iceberg. Come to the fire. Warm hands and feet will aid
your philosophizing wonderfully."
" I am not philosophizing, sir," she replied, without rising.
" I will wager my elegant new edition of Coleridge against
your old one, that you are ! Now, out with your cogitations,
you incorrigible dreamer !"
" I have won your Coleridge. I was only thinking of that
Talmudish tradition regarding Sandalphon, the angel of prayer."
" What of him ?"
" Why, that he stands at the gate of heaven, listens to the
sounds that ascend from earth, and gathering all the prayers
and entreaties, as they are wafted from sorrowing humanity,
they change to flowers in his hands, and the perfume is borne
into the celestial city to God. Yesterday I read Longfellow's
lines on this legend, and suppose my looking up at the stars
BETJIAH. 483
recalled it to my mind. But Georgia told me you asked for me.
Can I do anything for you, sir ? Are there any prescriptions
you wish written off?" She came and stood by his chair.
" No, thank you, child ; but I should like to hear more of
that book you were reading to me last night that is, if it will
not weary you, my child."
" Certainly not here it is. I was waiting for you to ask me
for more of it. Shall I begin now, or defer it till after tea ?"
" Now, if you please."
Mrs. Asbury seated herself on an ottoman at her husband's
feet, and threw her arm up over his knee ; and opening "Butler's
Analogy," Beulah began to read where she left off the previous
day, in the chapter on " a future life."
With his hand resting on his wife's head, Dr. Asbury listened
attentively. At the conclusion of the chapter, she turned to the
dissertation on " personal identity," so nearly related to it, and
read it slowly and impressively.
11 It is remarkably clear and convincing," said the doctor,
when she ceased.
" Yes; his argument, that death, instead of being an abnormal
event, is as much a law of our nature as birth (because neces-
sary to future development), and that as at maturity, we have
perfections, of which we never dreamed in infancy, so death may
put us in possession of new powers, by releasing us from the
chrysalis state, is one which has peculiar significance to my
mind. Had Cornelia Graham studied it, she would never have
been tortured by the thought of that annihilation which she
fancied awaited her. From childhood, this question of ' perso-
nal identity ' has puzzled me ; but it seems to me, this brief trea-
tise of Butler is quite satisfactory. It should be a text book in
all educational institutions ; should be scattered far and wide
through the land."
Here the solemn tones of the church bells told that the hour
of evening service drew near. The doctor started, and said,
abruptly :
484 BEULAH.
" Bless me ! Alice, are we to have no tea to-night ?"
"Yes, the tea bell rang some minutes ago, but Beulah had not
quite finished her chapter, and I would not interrupt."
As they walked on to the dining-room, he said :
"You two are going to church, I suppose ?"
" No, I shall remain with you," answered his wife, gently.
" You need not, my dear. I will go with you, if you prefer
it."
Beulah did not look up, but she knew that true-hearted wife
was unspeakably happy ; and understood why, during tea, she
was so quiet, so unwontedly silent.
CHAPTER XXXIX.
" I WISH Hartwell would come borne, and attend to his busi-
ness," muttered Dr. Asbury, some weeks later ; and as he spoke,
be threw his feet impatiently over the fender of the grate, look-
ing discontented enough,
" He will come, sir ; he will come," answered Beulah, who sat
near him.
" How do you know that so well, child ? Why do you sup-
pose he will come ?" asked the doctor, knitting his bushy grey
eyebrows.
"Perhaps, because I wish it so very much ; and hope and
faith are nearly allied, you know ; and perhaps more than this
because I have prayed so long for his return."
She sat with her hands folded, looking quietly into the glow-
ing grate. The old man watched her a moment, as the firelight
glared over her grave, composed face, and tears came suddenly
into his eyes.
"When Harry Hartwell died (about eighteeo months since)
he left his share of the estate to Guy, It is one of the finest
B E U L A H . 485
plantations in the State, arid for the last three years the crops
have been remarkably good. The cotton has been sold regu-
larly, and the bulk f the money is still in the hands of the
factor. Yesterday I happened to pass the old house, and rode
in to see how things looked ; positively, child, you would
scarcely recognize the place. You know the Farleys only occu-
pied it a few months ; since that time it has been rented. Just
now it is vacant, and such a deserted looking tenement I have
not seen for many days. As far as I am concerned "
Here a servant entered to inform the doctor that he was
wanted immediately to see one of his patients. He kicked off
his slippers, and got up, grumbling :
" A plague on Guy's peregrinating proclivities. I am getting
too old to jump up every three seconds, to keep somebody's baby
from jerking itself into a spasm, or suffocating with the croup.
Hartwell ought to be here to take all this practice off my
hands."
He put on his overcoat, and went out.
Beulah sat quite still for some minutes after his departure ;
then glancing at the clock, she started up suddenly.
" Where are you going, my dear ?" said Mrs. Asbury, looking
up from a letter she was writing to Helen.
" To walk."
" But Mr. Leonard is coming here this afternoon to see you j
he requested me to tell you so."
" I don't want to see him."
" But, my dear, he has already called several times recently
without seeing you."
" And if he had any penetration, he might perceive that the
avoidance was intended. I am tired of his frequent visits and
endless harangues, and he might see it if he chose." She looked
rather impatient.
Mrs. Asbury had sealed her letter, and approaching the rug
where Beulah stood, she laid her soft hand on her shoulder, and
said gently :
486 B E U L A II .
" My dear child, do not think me officious, or prompted by
mere idle curiosity, if I ask, do you intend to reject him ?' ;
" Why, ma'm, I have rejected him once, and still he forces his
society upon me. As to staying at home to see him, I won't do
it."
Mrs. Asbury seemed surprised, and said, smilingly :
" Upon my word, Beulah, you seem fastidious, indeed. What
possible objection could you find to Hugh Leonard ? Why, my
dear, he is the best match in the city."
" I would about as soon think of marrying the doctor's arm-
chair, there."
Beulah went to her own room, and put on her bonnet and
cloak. Charon very rarely attended her in her rambles ; he had
grown old, and was easily fatigued, but this afternoon she
called to him, and they set out. It was a mild, sunny evening
for winter, and she took the street leading to her guardian's old
residence. A quick walk soon brought her into the suburbs,
and ere long she stood before the entrance. The great central
gate was chained, but the little side gate was completely
broken from ;ts hinges, and lay on the ground. Alas 1 this
was but the beginning ; as she entered, she saw, with dismay,
that the yard was full of stray cattle. Cows, sheep, goats,
browsed about undisturbed among the shrubbery, which her
guardian had tended so carefully. She had not been here since
he sold it, but even Charon saw that something was strangely
amiss. He bounded off, and soon cleared the inclosure of the
herd, which had become accustomed to grazing here. Beulah
walked slowly up the avenue ; the aged cedars whispered
hoarsely above her as she passed, and the towering poplars,
whose ceaseless silvery rustle had an indescribable charm for
her in summers past, now tossed their bare boughs toward her
in mute complaining of the desolation which surrounded them.
The reckless indifference of tenants has deservedly grown into
a proverb, and here Beulah beheld an exemplification of its
truth. Of all the choice shrubbery, which it had been the labor
B E U L A H . 487
of years to collect and foster ; not a particle remained. Roses,
creepers, bulbs all were destroyed, and only the trees and
hedges were spared. The very outline of the beds was effaced
in many places, and walking round the paved circle in front of
the door, she paused abruptly at the desolation which greeted
her. Here was the marble basin of the fountain half filled \vii.h
rubbish, as though it had been converted into a receptacle for
trash, and over the whole front of the house, the dark glossy
leaves of the creeping ivy clung in thick masses. She looked
around on all sides, but only ruin and neglect confronted her.
She remembered the last time she came here, and recalled the
beautiful Sunday morning when she saw her guardian standing
by the fountain, feeding his pigeons. Ah, how sadly changed 1
She burst into tears, and sat down on the steps. Charon ran
about the yard for some time ; then came back, looked up at the
sombre house, howled, and laid down at her feet. Where was
the old master ? Wandering among eastern pagodas, while his
home became a retreat for owls.
" He has forgotten us, Charon I He has forgotten his two
best friends you and I who love him so well ! Oh, Charon,
he has forgotten us !" cried she, almost despairingly. Charon
gave a melancholy groan of assent, and nestled closer to her.
Five years had gone since he left his native land, and for once
her faith was faint and wavering. But after some moments she
looked up at the calm sky arching above her, and wiping away
her tears, added, resignedly :
" But he will come 1 God will bring him home when he sees
fit I I can wait I I can wait 1"
Charon's great, gleaming black eyes met hers wistfully ; he
seemed dubious of his master's return. Beulah rose, and he
obeyed the signal.
" Come, Charon, it is getting late ; faut we will come back
some day, and live here."
It was dusk when she entered the library, and found Mrs.
Anbury discussing the political questions of the day with her bus-
488 BE IT L AH.
band. She had just finished reading aloud, one of Reginald's
Congressional speeches, and advocated it warmly, while the
doctor reprobated some portion of his course.
"You have had a long walk," said Mrs. Asbury, looking up,
as the orphan entered.
"And look, for the universe, as if you had been ghost-seeing,"
cried the doctor, wiping his spectacles.
" I would rather meet an army of ghosts than see what I have
seen !" answered Beulah.
" Good heavens 1 In the name of wonder, what have you
seen, child ? ' A rattle-snake, or a screech-owl ?"
He put his broad palms on his knees, and looked mockingly
curious and startled.
" I have been out to see the old place, sir ; found the gate
broken down, the front yard full of cows, and everything going
to destruction, except the trees and hedges. Sir, it makes me
feel very sad. I can't bear to have things go on this way any
longer. It must be rectified."
" Bless my soul, that is easier said than done ! The place is a
perfect owl-roost, there is no denying that ; but it is no business
of ours. If Farley, or his agent, suffers the property to go to
ruin, it is his loss."
" But I love the place. I -want to save it. Won't you buy it,
Dr. Asbury ?"
" Won't I buy it ? Why, what on earth do you suppose I
should do w.ith it ? I don't want to live in it ; and as for any
more investments in real estate, why, just excuse me, if you
please ! Insurance and repairs eat up all the profits, and I am
plagued to death with petitions in the bargain."
" Then, I must buy it myself !" said Beulah, resolutely.
" In the name of common sense, what will you do with it ?"
" I don't know yet ; keep it, I suppose, until he comes home
again. How much do you suppose the Farley s ask for it ?"
" I really cannot conjecture. But, child, you must not think
of this. I will see the agent about it, and perhaps I may pur
BEULAH. 489
chase it, to oblige you. I will not hear of your buying it. Guy
certainly cannot contemplate heathenating much longer. There
is that eternal door-bell again I Somebody that believes I am
constructed of wire and gutta-percha, I dare say."
He leaned back, and watched the door very uneasily. A ser-
vant looked in.
" Mr. Leonard, to see Miss Beulah."
" Thank heaven it is nobody to see me 1" The doctor settled
himself comfortably, and laughed at the perturbed expression of
Beulah's countenance.
" Ask him to excuse me this evening," said she, without rising.
" Nay, my dear ; he was here this afternoon, and you had
gone to walk. It would be rude not to see him. Go into the
parlor ; do, my dear ; perhaps he will not detain you long,"
remonstrated Mrs. Asbury.
Beulah said nothing ; she set her lips firmly, rose, and went to
the parlor.
" I will wager my head he won't stay fifteen minutes, after he
gets a glimpse of her face. Hugh ought to have sense enough to
see that she does not fancy him," said the doctor, laughing.
" I should very much like to see the man she would fancy,"
answered his wife, knitting away busily on a purse for some
sewing society.
"Oh, Alice ! do you wonder she does not like Hugh Leonard ?
He is a ' catch/ as far as position, and money, and a certain sort
of talent, and is very clever, and upright, I know ; but he does
not suit Beulah. If she would not marry Reginald, of course she
won't marry Hugh."
" Jangle," went the door-bell once more, and this time the
"doctor was forced to leave his chair and slippers.
The winter had been very gay, and without doubt, the belle of
the season was Claudia Grayson. She had grown up a brilliant,
imperious beauty. Petted most injudiciously by Mr. and Mrs. Gray-
son, the best elements of her character, instead of being fostered
and developed, were smothered beneath vanity and arrogance ; and
21*
490 BEULAH.
soon selfishness became the dominant characteristic. To those
whom she considered her inferiors, she was supercilious and over-
bearing ; while, even in her adopted home, she tyrannized over
both servants and parents. Flattered and sought after in
society, she was never happy, unless the centre of a gay circle.
Ere long, she discovered the heartlessness of her admirers ;
learned the malice and envy of the very people she visited most
intimately ; and once acquainted with their natures and habits,
she found her greatest amusement in ridiculing those, who did
precisely the same thing the moment she left .them. Beulali had
never been able to conquer her feelings sufficiently to enter Mrs.
Grayson 7 s house ; but she had met Claudia several times. The
latter, when accompanied by any of her fashionable acquaint-
ances, always shrank from recognizing her ; and finally, thinking
any allusion to former years, and the Asylum, a personal insult,
she passed her, without even a bow. The first time this oc-
curred, Beulah was deeply wounded ; she had loved Claudia very
warmly, and her superciliousness was hard to bear. But the
slight was repeated several times, and she learned to pity her
weakness most sincerely.
"Ah!" thought she, "how much better it was that Lilly
should die, than live to grow up a heartless flirt, like Claudy !
Much better, little sister ! Much better !"
It was the morning after her walk to the old home of her
guardian, that Dr. Asbury threw down the paper on the break-
fast-table, with an exclamation of horror.
" What is the matter, George 1" cried his wife, while Beulah
grew deadly pale, and clutched the paper ; her mind, like
" Hinda's,"
" Still singling one from all mankind."
" Matter ! why poor Grayson has committed suicide shot
himself last night, poor wretch I He has been speculating too
freely, and lost every cent ; and, worse than that, used money to
do it that was not his. He made desperate throws and lost all;
B E U L A II . 491
and the end of it was, that when his operations were discovered,
he shot himself, leaving his family utterly destitute. I heard
yesterday that they would not have a cent ; but never dreamed
of his being so weak as to kill himself. Miserable mistake !"
"What will become of Mrs. Grayson and Claudia?" asked
Beulah, sorrowfully.
" I don't know, really. Mrs. Grayson has a brother living
somewhere up the country ; I suppose he will offer them a home
such as he has. I pity her ; she is a weak creature weak, mind
and body ; and this reverse will come very near killing her."
For some days nothing was discussed but the " Grayson
tragedy " It was well the unhappy man could not listen to the
fierce maledictions of disappointed creditors and the slanders
which were now heaped upon his name. Whatever his motives
might have been, the world called his offences by the darkest
names, and angry creditors vowed every knife, fork and spoon
should come under the hammer. The elegant house was sold
the furniture with it ; and Mrs. Grayson and Claudia removed
temporarily to a boarding-house. Not one of their fashionable
intimates approached them no, not one. When Claudia went
one day to her mautuamaker, to have her mourning fitted, she
met a couple of ladies who had formerly been constant visitors
at the house, and regular attendants at her parties. Unsuspect-
ingly, she hastened to meet them, but, to her astonishment,
instead of greeting her, in their usual fawning manner, they
received her with a "very cold bow, just touched the tips of her
fingers, and gathering up their robes, swept majestically from the
room. Rage and mortification forced the tears into her eyes.
Mrs. Asbury had never admired Mrs. Grayson's character ;
she visited her formally about twice a year ; but now, in this
misfortune, she alone called to see her. When Claudia returned
from the mantuamaker's, she found Mrs. Asbury with her mother,
and received from her hand a kind, friendly note from the girl
she had so grossly insulted. Beulah was no flatterer; she wrote
candidly and plainly; said blc would have called at once, had
492 BETJLAH.
she supposed her company would be acceptable. She would
gladly come and see Claudia whenever she desired to see her,
and hoped that the memory of other years would teach her the
sincerity of her friendship. Claudia wept bitterly, as she read it,
and vainly regretted the superciliousness which had alienated
one she knew to be noble and trustworthy. She was naturally
an impulsive creature, and without a moment's hesitation, dashed
off an answer, all blurred with tears, begging Beulah to overlook
her " foolishness," and come to see her.
Accordingly, after school, Beulah went to the house where
they were boarding. Claudia met her rather awkwardly, but
Beulah kissed her as if nothing had ever occurred to mar their
intercourse ; and after some desultory conversation, asked her
what they expected to do.
" Heaven only knows ! starve, I suppose." She spoke gloom-
ily, and folded her soft white hands over each other, as if the
idea of work was something altogether foreign to her mind.
"But, Claudia, I reckon you hardly expect to starve," an-
swered Beulah, who could not forbear smiling.
"Dear knows what is to become of us I am sure I don't I
Mamma has a brother living in some out-of-the-way place up the
country. But he does not like me thinks some of his own
children ought to have been adopted in my place. Heaven
knows I have made nothing by the operation, but a great disap-
pointment, he need not be uneasy about the amount I am to get.
But you see they don't want me, having an old spite at me, and
rnamma dislikes to ask them to take me ; besides, I would almost
as soon be buried at once as go to that farm, or plantation, or
whatever it is. They have written to mamma to come, and she
does not know what to do."
" You arc a good musician, are you not ?"
"No, not particularly ; I never could endure to practise."
" Don't you draw and paint finely I have heard that you did ?' ;
"Yes, but what good will it do me now, I should like to
know ?" She twirled her little plump, jewelled fingers indolently.
BEULAH. 493
" It might do you a great deal of good, if you chose. You
might support yourself by giving lessons," said Beulah, decisively.
She drew up her shoulders, frowned and pouted without
making any answer.
" Claudy, you do not wish to be dependent on a man who dis-
likes you ?"
" Not if I can help myself I"
" And you certainly do not wish to be the means of prevent-
ing Mrs. Grayson from having a comfortable home with her
brother ?"
Claudia burst into tears ; she did not love her mother, did not
even respect her, she was so very weak. and childish ; yet the
young orphan felt very desolate, and knew not what to do.
Beulah took her hand, and said kindly :
" If you are willing to help yourself, dear Claudy, I will gladly
do all 1 can to assist you. I think I can secure you a situation
as teacher of drawing, and, until you can make something at it,
I will pay your board ; and you shall stay with me, if you like.
You can think about it, and let me know as soon as you decide."
Claudia thanked her cordially, and returning home, Beulah
immediately imparted the plan to her friends. They thought it
would scarcely succeed, Claudia had been so petted and spoiled,
Beulah sat gazing into the fire for awhile ; then, looking at the
doctor, said abruptly :
" There is that Graham money, sir, doing nobody any good."
" That is just what I have been telling you for the last sis
years. I have invested it carefully, until it has almost doubled
itself."
"It would make them very comfortable," continued she
thoughtfully.
" Make them very comfortable I" repeated the doctor,
throwing his cigar into the grate, and turning suddenly toward
her.
11 Yes, Claudia and Mrs. Grayson,"
" Beulah Benton I are you going insane, I should liko tc
494 B E U L A H .
know ? Here you are, working- hard every day of your life,
and do you suppose I shall suffer you to give that legacy (nearly
nine thousand dollars!) to support two broken-down fashionables
in idleness ? Who ever heard of such a piece of business since
the world began ? I will not consent to it ! I tell you now,
the money shall not leave my hands for any such purpose."
"I don't want it myself. I never shall touch a dollar of it for
my own use," said she, resolutely.
" All very fine now. But wait till you, get superannuated, or
such a cripple with rheumatism that you can't hobble to that
schoolhouse, which you seem to love better than your own soul.
Wait till then, I say, and see whether some of this money will
not be very acceptable."
" That time will never come, sir, never 1" answered Beulah,
laughing.
" Beulah Benton, you are a simpleton !" said he, looking
affectionately at her from beneath his shaggy brows.
" I want that money, sir."
" You shall not have one cent of it. The idea of your playing
Lady Bountiful to the Graysons ! Pshaw 1 not a picayune shall
you have."
" Oh, sir, it would make me so very happy to aid them.
You cannot conceive how much pleasure it would afford me."
" Look here, child, all that sort of angelic disinterestedness
sounds very well done up in a novel, but the reality is quite
another matter. Mrs. Grayson treated you like a brute ; and it
is not to be expected that you will have any extraordinary
degree of 'affection for her. Human nature is spiteful and unfor-
giving ; and as for your piling coals of fire on her head to the
amount of nine thousand dollars, that is being entirely too
magnanimous !"
" I want to make Mrs. Grayson amends, sir. Once, when I
was maddened by sorrow and pain, I said something which I
always repented bitterly." As Beulah spoke, a cloud swept
across her face.
BEULAII. 495
" What was ir, child ? what did you say ?"
" I cursud her ! besought God to puiiish her severely for her
unkindness to me. I hardly knew what I was saying ; but even
then it shocked me, and I prayed God to forgive my passion.
I shudder when I remember it. I have forgiven her heartless-
ness long ago ; and now, sir, I want you to give me that money,
If it is mine at all, it is mine to employ as I choose."
" Cornelia did not leave the legacy to the Graysons."
" Were she living, she would commend the use I am about
to make of it. Will you give me five thousand dollars of it ?"
" Oh, Beulah, you are a queer compound ! a strange being 1"
" Will you give me five thousand dollars of that money
to-morrow ?" persisted Beulah, looking steadily at him.
" Yes, child, if you will have it so." His voice trembled, and
he looked at the orphan with moist eyes.
Mrs. Asbury had taken no part in the conversation^ but her
earnest face attested her interest. Passing her arm around
Beulah's waist, she hastily kissed her brow, and only said :
" God bless you, my dear, noble Beulah 1"
" I do not see that I am at all magnanimous in giving away
other people's money. If I had earned it by hard labor, and
then given it to Claudy, there would have been some more show
of generosity. Here come Georgia and her husband ; you do
not need me to read this evening, and I have work to do." She
extricated herself from Mrs. Asbury's clasping arm and retired
to her own room. The following day, Claudia came to say that,
as she knew not what else to do, she would gladly accept the
position mentioned as teacher of drawing and painting. Mrs.
Grayson's brother had come to take her home, but she was
unwilling to be separated from Claudia. Beulah no longer
hesitated, and the sum of five thousand dollars seamed to poor"
Claudia a fortune indeed. She could not understand how the girl,
whom she and her mother had insulted, could possibly have the
means of making them so comparatively comfortable. Beulah
briefly explained the circumstances which had enabled her to
496 B E U L A H .
assist them. The bulk of the money remained in Dr. Asburj's
hands, and Claudia was to apply to him whenever she needed it.
She and her mamma found a cheaper boardiug-house, and
Claudia's duties began at once. Mrs. Grayson was overwhelmed
with shame when the particulars were made known to her, and
tears of bitter mortification could not obliterate the memory of
the hour when she cruelly denied the prayer of the poor orphan
to whom she now owed the shelter above her head. Beulah did
not see her for many weeks subsequent ; she knew how painful
such a meeting would be to the humbled woman, and while she
constantly cheered and encouraged Claudia in her work, she
studiously avoided Mrs. Grayson's presence.
Thus the winter passed ; and once more the glories of a
southern spring were scattered over the land. To the Asburys
Beulah was warmly attached, and her residence with them was
as pleasant as any home could possibly have been, which was
not her own. They were all that friends could be to an orphan ;
still, she regretted her little cottage, and missed the home-feeling
she had prized so highly. True, she had constant access to the
greenhouse, and was rarely without her bouquet of choice
flowers ; but these could not compensate her for the loss of her
own little garden. She struggled bravely with discontent; tried
to look only on the sunshine in her path, and to be always cheer-
ful. In this she partially succeeded ; no matter how lonely and
sad she felt, she hid it carefully, and the evenings in the library
were never marred by words of repining or looks of sorrow.
To the close observer, there were traces of grief in her counte-
nance ; and sometimes when she sat sewing while Mrs. Asbury
read aloud, it was easy to see that her thoughts had wandered
far from that little room . Time had changed her singularly since
the old Asylum days. She was now a finely-formed, remarkably
graceful woman, with a complexion of dazzling transparency.
She was always pale, but the blue veins might be traced any-
where on her brow and temples ; and the dark, grey eyes, with
their long, jetty, curling lashes, possessed an indescribable
B E U L A II . 497
charm, even for strangers. She had beeii au ugly child, but
certainly she was a noble-looking, if not handsome woman. To
all but the family with whom she resided, she was rather
reserved; and while the world admired and eulogized her talents
as a writer, she felt that, except Eugene, she had no friends
beyond the threshold of the house she lived in. As weeks and
months elapsed, and no news of her wandering guardian came,
her hope began to pale. For weary years it had burned brightly,
but constant disappointment was pressing heavily on her heart,
and crushing out the holy spark. The heart-strings will bear
rude shocks and sudden rough-handling, but the gradual tight-
ening, the unremitted tension of long, tediously-rolling years,
will in time accomplish what fierce assaults cannot. Continually
she prayed for his return, but, despite her efforts, her faith grew
fainter as each month crept by, and her smile became more
constrained and joyless. She never spoke of her anxiety, never
alluded to him, but pressed her hands over her aching heart and
did her work silently nay, cheerfully.
CHAPTER XL
THE day was dull, misty and gusty. All the morning there
had been a driving southeasterly rain ; but toward noon, there
was a lull. The afternoon was heavy and threatening, while
armies of flense clouds drifted before the wind. Dr. Asbury had
not yet returned from his round of evening visits ; Mrs. Asbury
had gone to the Asylum to see a sick child, and Georgia was
dining with her husband's mother. Beulah came home from
school more than usually fatigued ; one of the assistant teachers
was indisposed, and she had done double work to relieve her.
She sat before her desk, writing industriously on an article she
498 BEULAII.
had promised to complete before the end of the week. Her head
ached ; the lines grew dim, and she laid aside her manuscript
and leaned her face- on her palms. The beautiful lashes lay
against her brow, for the eyes were raised to the portrait above
her desk, and she gazed up at the faultless features with an ex-
pression of sad hopelessness. Years had not filled the void in
her heart with other treasures. At this hour it ached with its
own desolation, and extending her arms imploringly toward the
picture, she exclaimed sorrowfully :
" my God, how long must I wait ? Oh, how long I"
She opened the desk, and taking out a key, left her room, and
slowly ascended to the third story. Charon crept up the
steps after her. She unlocked the apartment which Mrs.
Asbury had given into her charge some time before, and raising
one of the windows, looped back the heavy blue curtains which
gave a sombre hue to all within. From this elevated position
she could see the stormy, sullen waters of the bay breaking
against the wharves, and hear their hoarse muttering as they
rocked themselves to rest after the scourging of the tempest.
Grey clouds hung low, and scudded northward ; everything
looked dull and gloomy. She turned from the window and
glanced around the room. It was at all times a painful pleasure
to come here, and now, particularly, the interior impressed her
sadly. Here were the paintings and statues she had long been
so familiar with, and here, too, the melodeon which at rare inter-
vals she opened. The house was very quiet ; not a sound came
up from below ; she raised the lid of the instrument, and played
a plaintive prelude. Echoes, seven or eight years old, suddenly
fell on her ears ; she had not heard one note of this air since she
left Dr. HartwelPs roof. It was a favorite song of his ; a Ger-
man hymn he had taught her, and now after seven years she sang
it. It was a melancholy air, and as her trembling voice rolled
through the house, she seemed to live the old days over again.
But the words died away on her lips ; she had over-estimated
her strength ; she could not sing it. The marble images around
BEULAH. 499
her, like ghosts of the past, looked mutely down at her grief.
She could not weep ; her eyes were dry, and there was an intol-
erable aching at her heart. Just before her stood the Niobe,
rigid and woeful ; she put her hands over her eyes, and drooped
her face on the melodeon. Gloom and despair crouched at
her side, their gaunt bauds tugging at the anchor of hope. The
wind rose and howled round the corners of the house ; how fierce
it might be on trackless seas, driving lonely barks down to ruin,
and strewing the main with ghastly upturned faces. She shud-
dered and groaned. It was a dark hour of trial, and she
struggled desperately with the phantoms that clustered about
her. Then there came other sounds : Charon's shrill, frantic
bark and whine of delight. For years she had not heard that
peculiar bark, and started up in wonder. On the threshold stood
a tall form, with a straw hat drawn down over the features, but
Charon's paws were on the shoulders, and his whine of delight
ceased not. He fell down at his master's feet and caressed them.
Beulah looked an instant, and sprang into the doorway, holding
out her arms, with a wild, joyful cry :
" Come at last ! Oh, thank God ! Come at last P Her face
was radiant, her eyes burned, her glowing lips parted.
Leaning against the door, with his arms crossed over his broad
chest, Dr. Hartwell stood, silently regarding her. She came
close to him, and her extended arms trembled, still he did not
move, did not speak.
" Oh, I knew you would come ; and, thank God, now you are
here. Come home at last !"
She looked up at him so eagerly ; but he said nothing. She
stood an instant irresolute, then threw her arms around his neck,
and laid her head on his bosom, clinging closely to him. He
did not return the embrace, but looked down at the beaming
face, and sighed ; then he put his hand softly on her head, and
smoothed the rippling hair. A brilliant smile broke over her
features, as she felt the remembered touch of his fingers on her
forehead, and she repeated in the low tones of deep gladness :
500 BEULAH.
" I knew you would come ; oh, sir, I knew you would come
back to me !"
" How did you know it, child ?" he said, for the first time.
Her heart leaped wildly at the souud of the loved voice she
had so longed to hear, and she answered, tremblingly:
"Because for weary years I have prayed for your return. Oh,
only God knows how fervently I prayed ; and he has heard me."
She felt his strong frame quiver ; he folded his arms about her,
clasped her to his heart with a force that almost suffocated her,
and bending his head, kissed her passionately. Suddenly his
arms relaxed their clasp ; holding her off, he looked at her
keenly, and said :
"Beulah Benton, do you belong to the tyrant Ambition, or do
you belong to that tyrant, Guy Hartwell ? Quick, child, decide."
" I have decided," said she. Her cheeks burned ; her lashes
drooped.
" Well I"
" Well, if I am to have a tyrant, I believe I prefer belonging
to you ?"
He frowned. She smiled and looked up at him.
" Beulah, I don't want a grateful wife. Do you understand
me?"
"Yes, sir."
Just then his eyes rested on the portrait of Creola, which
hung opposite. He drew back a step, and she saw the blood
leave his lips, as he gazed upon it. Lifting his hand, he said
sternly:
" Ah, what pale spectres that face calls up from the grim,
grey ruins of memory! Doubtless you know my miserable his-
tory. I married her, thinking I had won her love. She soon
undeceived me. We separated. I once asked you to be my
wife, and you told me you would rather die. Child, years have
not dealt lightly with me since then. I am no longer a young
man. Look here." He threw off his hat, and passing his fin-
gers through his curling hair, she saw, here and there, streaks of
B E IT L A H . 501
silver. He watched her as she noted it. She saw, too, how
haggard he looked, now that the light fell full on his pale face.
The splendid, dark eyes were unaltered, and as they looked
down iuto hers, tears gathered on her lashes, her lips trembled,
and throwing her arms again round his neck, she laid her face
on his shoulder.
" Beulah, do you cling to me because you love me ? or because
you pity me ? or because you are grateful to me for past love
and kindness ? Answer me, Beulah."
"Because you are my all."
" How long have I been your all ?"
" Oh, longer than I knew myself I" was the evasive reply.
He tried to look at her, but she pressed her face close to his
shoulder, and would not suffer it.
"Beulah?"
" Sir."
" Oh, don't ' sir' me, child! I want to know the truth, and
you will not satisfy me."
" I have told you the truth."
" Have you learned that fame is an icy shadow ? that grati-
fied ambition cannot make you happy ? Do you love me ?"
"Yes."
" Better than teaching school, and writing learned articles ?"
" Rather better, I believe, sir."
"Beulah?"
" Well, sir."
" You have changed in many things, since we parted, nearly
six years ago ?"
"Yes, I thank God, I am changed. My infidelity was a
source of many sorrows; but the clouds have passed from my
mind; I have found the truth in holy writ." Now she raised
her head, and looked at him very earnestly.
" Child, does your faith make you happy ?"
"Yes, the universe could not purchase it," she answered
solemnly.
502 BEULAH.
There was a brief silence. He put both hands on her shoul-
ders, and stooping down, kissed her brow.
" And you prayed for me, Beulah ?"
"Yes, evening and morning. Prayed that you might be
shielded from all dangers, and brought safely home. And there
was one other thing, which I prayed for not less fervently than
for your return : that God would melt your hard, bitter heart,
and give you a knowledge of the truth of the Christian religion.
Oh, sir, I thought sometimes that possibly you might die in a
far-off land, and then I should see you no more, in time or eter-
nity! and oh, the thought nearly drove me wild! My guardian,
my all, let me not have prayed in vain." She clasped his hand
in hers, and looked up pleadingly into the loved face; and, for
the first time in her life, she saw tears glistening in the burning
eyes. He said nothing, however; took her face in his hands,
and scanned it earnestly, as if reading all that had passed during
his long absence. Presently he asked :
" So you would not marry Lindsay, and go to Congress. Why
not ?"
" Who told you anything about him ?"
" No matter. Why did not you marry him ?"
" Because I did not love him/ 7
" He is a noble hearted, generous man."
"Yes, very; I do not know his superior."
" What ?"
" I mean what I say," said she, firmly.
He smiled, one of his genial, irresistible smiles; and she smiled
also, despite herself. " Give me your hand, Beulah ?"
She did so very quietly.
" There is it mine ?"
" Yes, sir, if you want it."
" And may I claim it as soon as I choose ?"
" Yes, sir."
She had never seen him look as he did then. His face kin-
dled, as if in a broad flash of light; the eyes dazzled her, and
B E U L A H . 503
she turned her face away, as he drew her once more to his
bosom, and exclaimed :
"At last, then, after years of sorrow, and pain, and bitter-
ness, I shall be happy in my own home ; shall have a wife, a
companion, who loves me for myself alone. Ah, Beulah, my
idol, I will make you happy!"
The rain fell heavily, and it grew dark, for the night came
rapidly down. There was a furious ringing of the library bell,
the doctor had come home, and, as usual, wanted half a dozen
things at once.
" Have you seen Dr. Asbury ?"
"No. I came directly to the house; saw no one as I entered;
and hearmg the melodeon, followed the sound."
"What a joyful surprise it will be to him!" said Beulah, clos-
ing the window, and locking the melodeon. She led the way
down the steps, followed by her guardian and Charon.
" Suppose you wait awhile in the music-room ? It adjoins the
library, and you can see and hear, without being seen," suggested
she, with her hand on the bolt of the door. He assented, and
stood near the threshold which connected the rooms, while
Beulah went into the library. The gas burned brightly, and the
doctor sat leaning far back in his arm-chair, with his feet on an
ottoman. His wife stood near him, stroking the grey hair from
his furrowed brow.
" Alice, I wish, dear, you would get me an iced lemonade, will
you ?"
" Let me make it for you," said Beulah, coming forward.
" Not you ! At your peril, you touch it. You are over fond
of the sour, miss. Alice knows exactly how to suit me."
" So you have turned homoeopathist ? take acids to "
"None of your observations, if you please. Just be good
enough to open the shutters, will you ? It is as hot in this
room, as if the equator ran between my feet and the wall.
Charming weather, eh ? And still more charming prospect, that
I shall have to go out into it again before bed-time. One of my
504: B E U L A II .
delectable patients has taken it into his head to treat his wife
and children to a rare show, in the shape of a fit of mania-a-
potu ; and ten to one, I shall have to play spectator all night."
He yawned as he spoke.
" You have an arduous time indeed," began Beulah ; but
he hastily put in :
" Oh, of all poor devils, we pill-box gentry do have the
hardest times ! I am sick of patients : sick of physic ; sick of
the very sound of my own name."
" If my guardian were only here to relieve "
" Confound your guardian I Don't mention him in my pre-
sence. He is a simpleton. He is what the ' Ettrick Shepherd ;
calls a ' Sumph.' You have no guardian, I can tell you that.
Before this, he has gone through all the transmigrations of
' Indur/ and the final metempsychosis, gave him to the world a
Celestial. Yes, child, a Celestial. I fancy him at this instant;
with two long plaits of hair trailing behind him, as, with all the
sublime complacency of Celestials, he stalks majestically along,
picking tea leaves. Confound your guardian. Mention his
name to me again, at the peril of having your board raised."
" George, what is the matter with you ?" asked his wife,
smiling, as she handed him the lemonade he had desired.
" This prating young woman is, as usual, trying to discourse
of Alice, this is just right. Thank you, my dear." He
drained the glass, and handed it back. Beulah stood, so that
the light shone full on her face. He looked at her a moment,
and exclaimed :
" Come here, child. What ails you ? Why, bless my soul,
Beulah, what is the matter ? I never saw the blood in your
face before ; and your great solemn eyes seem to be dancing a
jig. What ails you, child ?" He grasped her hands eagerly.
" Nothing ails me ; I am well "
" I know better 1 Has Charon gone mad and bit you ? Oho!
by all the dead gods of Greece, Guy has come home. Where is
he ? Where is he ?"
BEULAH. 505
He sprang up, nearly knocking his wife down, and looked
around the room. Dr. Hartwell emerged from the music-room
and advanced to meet him.
" Oh, Guy ! You heathen 1 you Philistine 1 you prodigal !"
He bounded over a chair, and locked his arms round the tall
form, while his grey head dropped on his friend's shoulder.
Beulah stole out quickly, and in the solitude of her own room,
fell on her knees, and returned thanks to the God who hears and
answers prayer.
CHAPTER XLI.
IT was a sparkling August morning one of those rare days,
when all nature seems jubilant. The waters of the bay glit-
tered like a sheet of molten silver ; the soft southern breeze
sang through the tree-tops, and the cloudless sky wore that
deep shade of pure blue, which is nowhere so beautiful as in our
sunny South. Clad in a dress of spotless white, with her luxu-
riant hair braided, and twined with white flowers, Beulah stood
beside her window, looking out into the street below. Her
hands were clasped tightly over her heart, and on one slender
finger blazed a costly diamond, the seal of her betrothal. She
was very pale ; now and then her lips quivered, and her lashes
were wet with tears. Yet this was her marriage day. She had
just risen from her knees, and her countenance told of a
troubled heart. She loved her guardian above everything else;
knew that, separated from him, life would be a dreary blank to
her ; yet, much as she loved him, she could not divest herself of
a species of fear, of dread. The thought of being his wife
filled her with vague apprehension. He had hastened the mar-
riage ; the old place had been thoroughly repaired and refur-
22
506 BE TIL AH.
Dished, and this morning she would go home a wife. She
clasped her hands over her eyes ; the future looked fearful.
She knew the passionate, exacting nature of the man with
whose destiny she was about to link her own, and she shrank
back, as the image of Creola rose before her. The door opened,
and Mrs. Asbury entered, accompanied by Dr. Hartwell. The
orphan looked up, and leaned heavily against the window. Mrs.
Asbury broke the silence.
"They are waiting for you, my dear. The minister came
some moments ago. The clock has struck ten."
She handed her a pair of gloves from the table, and stood in
the door, waiting for her. Beulah drew them on, and then, with
a long breath, glanced at Dr. Hartwell. He looked restless, and
she thought sterner, than she had seen him since his return.
He was very pale and his lips were compressed firmly.
"You look frightened, Beulah. You tremble/' said he,
drawing her arm through his, and fixing his eyes searchingly on
her face.
41 Yes. Oh, yes. I believe I am frightened," she answered,
with a constrained smile.
She saw his brow darken, and his cheek flush, but he said no
more, and led her down to the parlor, where the members of the
family were assembled. Claudia and Eugene were also present.
The minister met them in the centre of the room ; and there, in
the solemn hush, a few questions were answered, a plain band
of gold encircled her finger, and the deep tones of the clergy-
man pronounced her Guy Hartwell's wife. Eugene took her
in his arms and kissed her tenderly, whispering :
" God bless you, dear sister and friend 1 I sincerely hope that
your married life will prove happier than mine."
Their congratulations wearied her, and she was glad when the
carriage came to bear her away. Bidding adieu to her friends,
she was handed into the carriage, and Dr. Hartwell took the
seat beside her. The ride was short ; neither spoke, and when
the door was opened, and she entered the well-remembered
BEULAH. 507
house, she would gladly have retreated to the greenhouse, and
sought solitude to collect her thoughts ; but a hand caught hers,
and she soon found herself seated on a sofa in the study. She
felt that a pair of eyes were riveted on her face, and suddenly
the blood surged into her white cheeks. Her hand lay clasped
in his, and her head drooped lower, to avoid his searching gaze.
" Oh, Beulah ! my wife ! why are you afraid of me ?"
The low, musical tones caused her heart to thrill strangely ;
she made a great effort, and lifted her head. She saw the
expression of sorrow that clouded his face ; saw his white brow
wrinkle ; and as her eyes fell on the silver threads scattered
through his brown hair, there came an instant revolution of feel-
ing ; fear vanished ; love reigned supreme. She threw her arms
up about his neck, and exclaimed :
" I am not afraid of you now. May God bless my guardian 1
my husband 1"
Reader, marriage is not the end of life; it is but the beginning
of a new course of duties ; but I cannot now follow Beulah.
Henceforth, her history is bound up with another's. To save her
husband from his unbelief, is the labor of her future life. She
had learned to suffer, and to bear patiently ; and though her
path looks sunny, and her heart throbs with happy hopes, this
one shadow lurks over her home and dims her joys. Weeks and
months glided swiftly on. Dr. Hartwell's face lost its stern rigi-
dity, and his smile became constantly genial. His wife was his
idol ; day by day, his love for her seemed more completely to
revolutionize his nature. His cynicism melted insensibly away ;
his lips forgot their iron compression ; now and then, his long-
forgotten laugh rang through the house. Beulah was conscious
of the power she wielded, and trembled lest she failed to employ
it properly. One Sabbath afternoon, she sat in her room, with
her cheek on her hand, absorbed in earnest thought. Her little
Bible lay on her lap, and she was pondering the text she had
heard that morning. Charon came and nestled his huge head
against her. Presently she heard the quick tramp of hoofs and
508 BEULAH.
whir of wheels ; and soon after, her husband entered and sat
down beside her.
"What are you thinking of?" said he, passing his hand over
her head, carelessly.
" Thinking of my life of the bygone years of struggle."
" They are past, and can trouble you no more. ' Let the dead
past bury its dead !' "
" No, my past can never die. I ponder it often, and it does
me good ; strengthens me, by keeping me humble. I was just
thinking of the dreary, desolate days and nights I passed, search-
ing for a true philosophy, and going further astray with every
effort. I was so proud of my intellect ; put so much faith in my
own powers ; it was no wonder I was so benighted."
" Where is your old worship of genius ?" asked her husband,
watching her curiously.
" I have not lost it all. I hope I never shall. Human genius
has accomplished a vast deal for man's temporal existence. The
physical sciences have been wheeled forward in the march of
mind, and man's earthly path gemmed with all that a merely
sensual nature could desire. But looking aside from these chan-
nels, what has it effected for philosophy, that great burden,
which constantly recalls the fabled labors of Sisyphus and the
Dauaides ? Since the rising of Bethlehem's star, in the cloudy
sky of polytheism, what has human genius discovered of God,
eternity, destiny ? Metaphysicians build gorgeous cloud pa-
laces, but the soul cannot dwell in their cold, nlisty atmosphere.
Antiquarians wrangle and write ; Egypt's moldering monuments
are raked from their desert graves, and made the theme of scien-
tific debate ; but has all this learned disputation contributed one
iota to clear the thorny way of strict morality ? Put the Bible
out of sight, and how much will human intellect discover con-
cerning our origin our ultimate destiny ? In the morning of
time, sages handled these vital questions, and died, not one step
nearer the truth than when they began. Now, our philosophers
struggle, earnestly and honestly, to make plain the same iuscruta-
BEULA1I. 509
bk- mysteries. Yes, blot out the records of Moses, and we would
grope iu starless night ; for notwithstanding the many priceless
blessings it has discovered for man, the torch of science will never
pierce and illumine the recesses over which Almighty God has
hung his veil. Here we see, indeed, as ' through a glass,
darkly.' Yet I believe the day is already dawning, when scien-
tific data will not only cease to be antagonistic to scriptural
accounts, but will deepen the impress of Divinity on the pages
of holy writ ; when ' the torch shall be taken out of the hand of
the infidel, and set to burn in the temple of the living God ;'
when Science and Eeligion shall link hands. I revere the lonely
thinkers to whom the world is indebted for its great inventions.
I honor the tireless laborers who toil in laboratories ; who sweep
midnight skies, in search of new worlds ; who upheave primeval
rocks, hunting for footsteps of Deity ; and I believe that every
scientific fact will ultimately prove but another lamp, planted
along the path which leads to a knowledge of Jehovah 1 Ah !
it is indeed peculiarly the duty of Christians, 'to watch, with
reverence and joy, the unveiling of the august brow of Nature,
by the hand of Science ; and to be ready to call mankind to a
worship ever new I' Human thought subserves many useful,
nay, noble ends ; the Creator gave it, as a powerful instrument,
to improve man's temporal condition ; but oh, sir, I speak of
what I know, when I say : alas, for that soul who forsakes the
divine ark, and embarks on the gilded toys of man's invention,
hoping to tireast the billows of life, and be anchored safely in the
harbor of eternal rest 1 The heathens, ' having no law, are a
law unto themselves ;' but for such as deliberately reject the
given light, only bitter darkness remains. I know it; for I, too,
once groped, wailing for help."
" Your religion is full of mystery," said her husband, gravely.
"Yes, of divine mystery. Truly, 'a God comprehended is no
God at all 1' Christianity is clear, as to rules of life and duty.
There is no mystery left about the directions to man ; yet there
is a divine mystery infolding it, which tells of its divine origin,
510 BEULAH.
and promises a fuller revelation when man is fitted to receive it.
If it were not so, we would call it man's invention. You turn
from Revelation, because it contains some things you cannot com-
prehend ; yet you plunge into a deeper, darker mystery, when
you embrace the theory of an eternal, self-existing universe, hav-
ing no intelligent creator, yet constantly creating intelligent
beings. Sir, can you understand how matter creates mind ?"
She had laid her Bible on his knee ; her folded hands rested
upon it, and her grey eyes, clear and earnest, looked up reve-
rently into her husband's noble face. His soft hand ^wandered
over her head, and he seemed pondering her words.
May God aid the wife in her holy work of love.
THE END.
Jerbg & fatlison's |j ubfications.
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THE METHODIST;
OB,
INCIDENTS AND CHARACTERS FROM LIFE, IN THE BALTIMORE
CONFERENCE.
BY
WITH AN INTRODUCTION BY REV. W. P. STRICKLAND, D.D.
In two handsome 12mo. volumes. Price $3.
THE scene of " The Methodist " is laid mostly in Virginia, with an occasional change
to Baltimore, and the characters are such as may be expected in those localities. The
hero, Harry Bradford a young, ardent Methodist preacher is brought up in the house
of his grandfather, one of the real old Virginia gentlemen, aristocratic and hospitable,
and we are frequently charmed with the author's accurate pictures of plantation life.
The negroes are faithful, affectionate, genuine darkies of the true Virginia stamp.
When young Bradford arrives at manhood, " the blood of all the Howards," particularly
that portion of it that flows through the veins of Aunt Rodney, the jealous guardian of
the family honors, is outraged at his resolution to be a Methodist preacher a circuit
rider for episcopacy is a part of the birthright of Virginia. But he perseveres in his
determination, and gives himself to his chosen profession with entire self-consecration.
Methodism, with its many and striking peculiarities, as well as its acknowledged power
as an aggressive missionary agent, has become a part of our national history. Is it not
well that it should be more vividly brought before the general reader ? Here Methodist
ways and usages, that are fast fading away, are perpetuated in a series of scenes
drawn from life. Class-meeting, Love-feast, Watch-night, Camp-meeting, Circuit-life,
Conference, all in vivid touches, succeed each other on the canvas ; and Methodists of
the olden time, as they turn leaf after leaf, will say, " This is all true." Some are still
living that can occasionally add, " Parva pars fui," for there is scarcely a page amid
these peculiar sketches on which some incident, some trait, is not from actual experi-
ence. The description of a Baltimore camp-meeting, as it used to be, is beautiful,
and as true as it is beautiful. That annual sojourn in the tented grove is a wonderful
outburst of romance in a people generally protesting against such follies. Then con-
ference, with its deep emotion, and Wesley Chapel, and old Light street, names dear
to Methodists, all heighten the interest of the book.
(See next page.)
Northwestern Christian Advocate.
" The world begins t last to realize the fact that the annals of Methodism are brimful
of romantic heroism, self-sacrifice and daring. Starting eagerly at the discovery, it
seems to gather up its strange and eventful history, Here are two volumes good 12mo.
They depict the history of the grandson of the proud Virginia gentleman, CoL Hunter.
We have the details of his conversion, his call to the ministry, his refusal of tempting
offers, his itinerancy: and here come up the conference, the camp-meeting, the watch-
night, etc., some of which we mean to copy. Of course, he marries, Methodist preachers
generally do, and soon enough at that. The style is attractive. But we give the notice
of our staid contemporary, the American Presbyterian :
" ' These volumes will be found to abound in incidents of thrilling interest to the Meth-
odists, and will not prove unattractive to the general reader. All Christian denomina-
tions may learn some very important and practical lessons by the study of the early
history, doings and progress of the Methodists in this country. This work contains
many elements of popularity.' "
Christian Advocate and Journal.
" The hero, a young, ardent Methodist preacher, is brought up in the house of his
grandfather, one of the real old Virginia gentlemen, aristocratic and hospitable, and the
author gives accurate pictures of plantation life, class-meeting, love-feast, watch-night,
camp-meeting, circuit-life, conference, all in vivid touches succeed each other on the
canvas ; and Methodists of the olden time, as they turn leaf after leaf, will say : ' This
is all true.'"
Some Circle (Methodist, Nashville,) Tenn.
"To the true Methodist, who sees the peculiar traits of his sect gradually disappear-
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picture of the past ; while the interest of the story alone will commend it to the general
reader."
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deeply imbued with religious sentiment."
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is faithful in its descriptions of Methodist usages."
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best is the favorable notices of the press generally, Methodist and otherwise. In addi-
tion to the pleasant style and absorbing interest of the narrative, we are assured that it
rescues from oblivion, very much that is important to Methodist history in the renowned
old seat of Methodism, the Baltimore Conference."
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TEN YEARS OF PREACHER LIFE;
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Land of the Selling Sun.
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Let no Man Despise thy Youth.
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T-iberality of Methodists.
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\Valking the Hospital.
Cry Aloud and Spare not. A Sermon on
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Value of the Eye in an Orator.
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