Beulah - Page 2/348

At a first casual glance, one thought her rather homely, nay, decidedly ugly; yet, to

the curious physiognomist, this face presented greater attractions

than either of the others. Reader, I here paint you the portrait of

that quiet little figure whose history is contained in the following

pages. A pair of large gray eyes set beneath an overhanging

forehead, a boldly projecting forehead, broad and smooth; a rather

large but finely cut mouth, an irreproachable nose, of the order

furthest removed from aquiline, and heavy black eyebrows, which,

instead of arching, stretched straight across and nearly met. There

was not a vestige of color in her cheeks; face, neck, and hands wore

a sickly pallor, and a mass of rippling, jetty hair, drawn smoothly

over the temples, rendered this marble-like whiteness more apparent.

Unlike the younger children, Beulah was busily sewing upon what

seemed the counterpart of their aprons; and the sad expression of

the countenance, the lips firmly compressed, as if to prevent the

utterance of complaint, showed that she had become acquainted with

cares and sorrows, of which they were yet happily ignorant. Her eyes

were bent down on her work, and the long, black lashes nearly

touched her cold cheeks.

"Sister Beulah, ought Claudy to say that?" cried Lillian, turning

round and laying her hand upon the piece of sewing.

"Say what, Lilly? I was not listening to you."

"She said she hoped that largest robin redbreast would get drunk and

tumble down. He would be sure to bump some of his pretty bright

feathers out, if he rolled over the shells two or three times,"

answered Lilly, pointing to a China tree near, where a flock of

robins were eagerly chirping over the feast of berries.

"Why, Claudy! how can you wish the poor little fellow such bad

luck?" The dark, thoughtful eyes, full of deep meaning, rested on

Claudia's radiant face.

"Oh! you need not think I am a bear, or a hawk, ready to swallow the

darling little beauty alive! I would not have him lose a feather for

the world; but I should like the fun of seeing him stagger and wheel

over and over, and tumble off the limb, so that I might run and

catch him in my apron. Do you think I would give him to our matron

to make a pie? No, you might take off my fingers first!" And the

little elf snapped them emphatically in Beulah's face.

"Make a pie of robies, indeed! I would starve before I would eat a

piece of it," chimed in Lilly, with childish horror at the thought.