Beulah - Page 163/348

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 in the sky. Mr. Graham's

house was situated in the fashionable part of the city, near Mr.

Grayson'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 today. 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 rendered 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 shawl."

"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 Sea, gray 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.

"I promised not to remain more than an hour."

"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 downstairs for two days."