Beulah - Page 113/348

"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 villian's blood had long since 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 Cornelia 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 you to speak of this to anyone. 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's."