Beulah - Page 115/348

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 might fan her fevered brow. The hot blood beat heavily in her

temples, and fled with arrowy swiftness through her veins.

Continued 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 restlessness. Dr.

Hartwell 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 hung loosely about her

shoulders, she confined it with a comb and glided noiselessly down

the steps. The lamplight gleamed through the open door, and, pausing

on the threshold, 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.

"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, loath 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 situation?"