"You place an exalted estimate upon yourself," returned Cornelia.
They looked at each other half-defiantly for a moment; then the
heiress bowed her head, and said, in low, broken tones: "Oh, Beulah, Beulah! child of poverty! would I could change places
with you!"
"You are weak, Cornelia," answered Beulah gravely.
"In some respects, perhaps, I am; but you are bold to tell me so."
"Genuine friendship ignores all hesitancy in speaking the truth. You
sought me. I am very candid--perhaps blunt. If my honesty does not
suit you it is an easy matter to discontinue our intercourse. The
whole matter rests with you."
"You wish me to understand that you do not need my society--my
patronage?"
"Patronage implies dependence, which, in this instance, does not
exist. An earnest, self-reliant woman cannot be patronized, in the
sense in which you employ the term." She could not forbear smiling.
The thought of being under patronage was, to her, supremely
ridiculous.
"You do not want my friendship, then?"
"I doubt whether you have any to bestow. You seem to have no love
for anything," replied Beulah coldly.
"Oh, you wrong me!" cried Cornelia passionately.
"If I do, it is your own fault. I only judge you from what you have
shown of your nature."
"Remember, I have been an invalid all my life."
"I am not likely to forget it in your presence. But, Cornelia, your
whole being seems embittered."
"Yes; and you will be just like me when you have lived as long as I
have. Wait till you have seen something of the world."
"Sit down, Cornelia; you tremble from head to foot." She drew a
chair close to the hearth, and the sufferer sank into it, as if
completely exhausted. For some time neither spoke. Beulah stood with
her hands on the back of the chair, wishing herself back in her
quiet little room. After a while Cornelia said slowly: "If you only knew Antoinette as well as I do you could ill brook the
thought of her ever being Eugene's wife."
"He is the best judge of what will promote his happiness."
"No; he is blinded, infatuated. Her pretty face veils her miserable,
contemptible defects of character. She is utterly unworthy of him."
"If she loves him sincerely, she will--"
"Don't talk of what you do not understand. She is too selfish to
love anything or anybody but herself. Mark me, whether I live to see
it or not, if he marries her, he will despise her in less than six
months, and curse himself for his blind folly. Oh, what a precious
farce it will prove!" She laughed sneeringly.