"Very well, thank you, sir. I am so glad you have come home, so
glad." She took his cold hand between both hers, rubbed it
vigorously, and looked up joyfully in his face. She thought he was
paler and more haggard than she had ever seen him, his hair
clustered in disorder about his forehead, his whole aspect was weary
and wretched. He suffered her to keep his hand in her warm, tight
clasp, and asked kindly.
"Are you well, Beulah? Your face is flushed, and you feel feverish."
"Perfectly well. But you are as cold as an Esquimaux hunter. Come to
the fire." She drew his armchair, with its candle-stand 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 by, and only remembered that he had come home
again, that he was sitting there in 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 supper long ago."
"No, child, I only want to rest."
Beulah fancied he spoke impatiently. Had she been too officious in
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 have arrived
during my absence."
She emptied the letter receiver, and placed several communications
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 coldness, 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 shriveled 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!"