"What? already! Take courage, Cornelia; there is truth somewhere,"
answered Beulah, with kindling eyes.
"Where, where? Ah! that echo mocks you, turn which way you will. I
sit like Raphael-Aben-Ezra--at the 'Bottom of the Abyss,' but,
unlike him, I am no Democritus to jest over my position. I am too
miserable to laugh, and my grim Emersonian fatalism gives me
precious little comfort, though it is about the only thing that I do
firmly believe in."
She stooped to pick up her necklace, shook it in the glow of the
fire until a shower of rainbow hues flashed out, and, holding it up,
asked contemptuously: "What do you suppose this piece of extravagance cost?"
"I have no idea."
"Why, fifteen hundred dollars--that is all! Oh, what is the blaze of
diamonds to a soul like mine, shrouded in despairing darkness, and
hovering upon the very confines of eternity, if there be any!" She
threw the costly gift on the table and wearily closed her eyes.
"You have become discouraged too soon, Cornelia. Your very anxiety
to discover truth evinces its existence, for Nature always supplies
the wants she creates!"
"You will tell me that this truth is to be found down in the depths
of my own soul; for, no more than logic, has it ever been discovered
'parceled and labeled.' But how do I know that all truth is not
merely subjective? Ages ago, skepticism intrenched itself in an
impregnable fortress: 'There is no criterion of truth.' How do I
know that my 'true,' 'good,' and 'beautiful' are absolutely so? My
reason is no infallible plummet to sound the sea of phenomena and
touch noumena. I tell you, Beulah, it is all--"
A hasty rap at the door cut short this discussion, and, as Eugene
entered, the cloud on Cornelia's brow instantly lifted. His gay
Christmas greeting and sunny, handsome face diverted her mind, and,
as her hand rested on his arm, her countenance evinced a degree of
intense love such as Beulah had supposed her incapable of feeling.
"It is very selfish, sister mine, to keep Beulah so constantly
beside you, when we all want to see something of her."
"Was I ever anything else but selfish?"
"But I thought you prided yourself on requiring no society?"
"So I do, as regards society in general; but Beulah is an
exception."
"You intend to come down to-night, do you not?"
"Not if I can avoid it. Eugene, take Beulah into the parlor, and ask
Antoinette to sing. Afterward make Beulah sing, also, and be sure to
leave all the doors open, so that I can hear. Mind, you must not
detain her long."