Beulah - Page 1/348

A January sun had passed the zenith, 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. The front

door was closed, but upon the broad granite steps, where the

sunlight lay warm and tempting, sat a trio of the inmates. In the

foreground 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 marvelous 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.