Beulah - Page 167/348

Beulah handed her the draught, saying, with surprise: "Sitting wrapped up by a fire and drinking ice-water!"

"Yes; I use ice-water the year round. Please touch the bellrope,

will you?"

As Beulah resumed her seat, Cornelia added, with a forced laugh: "You look as if you pitied me."

"I do, most sincerely. Do you suffer in this way often?"

"Yes--no--well, when I am prudent I don't." Then, turning to the

servant, who stood at the door, she continued: "John, go to Dr.

Hartwell's office (not his house, mind you), and leave word that he

must come here before night. Do you understand? Shut the door-stop!

send up some coal!"

She drew her chair closer to the fire, and, extending her slippered

feet on the marble hearth, said: "I have suffered more during the last three days than in six months

before. Last night I did not close my eyes--and Dr. Hartwell must

prepare me some medicine. What is the matter with Clara Sanders? She

looks like an alabaster image!"

"She has never recovered entirely from that attack of yellow fever;

and a day or two ago she took cold, and has had constant fever

since. I suppose she will see the doctor while I am here. I feel

anxious about her."

"She looks ethereal, as if refined for a translation to heaven,"

continued Cornelia musingly; then suddenly lifting her head, she

listened an instant, and exclaimed angrily: "It is very strange that

I am not to have an hour's peace and enjoyment with you, without--"

The door opened, and a graceful form and lovely face approached the

fireplace. "Miss Benton, suffer me to introduce my cousin, Miss

Dupres," said Cornelia very coldly.

The young lady just inclined her head, and proceeded to scan

Beulah's countenance and dress, with a degree of cool impertinence

which was absolutely amusing. Evidently, however, Cornelia saw

nothing amusing in this ill-bred stare, for she pushed a light chair

impatiently toward her, saying: "Sit down, Antoinette!"

She threw herself into the seat with a sort of languid grace, and

said, in the most musical of voices: "Why would not you see Julia Vincent? She was so much disappointed."

"Simply and solely because I did not choose to see her. Be good

enough to move your chair to one side, if you please," snapped

Cornelia.

"That was very unkind in you, considering she is so fond of you. We

are all to spend the evening with her next week--you, and your

brother, and I. A mere 'sociable,' she says." She had been

admiringly inspecting her small hands, loaded with diamonds; and

now, turning round, she again freely scrutinized Beulah, who had

been silently contemplating her beautiful oval profile and silky

auburn curls. Certainly Antoinette Dupres was beautiful, but it was

such a beauty as one sees in wax dolls--blank, soulless,

expressionless, if I may except the predominating expression of

self-satisfaction. Beulah's quiet dignity failed to repel the

continued stare fixed upon her, and, gathering up the folds of her

shawl, she rose.