Beulah - Page 216/348

Beulah conjectured that they might, perhaps, entertain each other

without her assistance, and soon left them for the greenhouse, which

was connected with the parlors by a glass door. Followed by Charon,

who had remained beside her all day, she walked slowly between the

rows of plants, many of which were laden with flowers. Brilliant

clusters of scarlet geranium, pale, fragrant heliotropes, and

camellias of every hue surrounded her. Two or three canary birds, in

richly ornate cages, chirped and twittered continually, and for a

moment she forgot the changes that had taken place since the days

when she sought this favorite greenhouse to study her text-books.

Near her stood an antique China vase containing a rare creeper, now

full of beautiful, star-shaped lilac flowers. Many months before,

her guardian had given her this root, and she had planted it in this

same vase; now the long, graceful wreaths were looped carefully

back, and tied to a slender stake. She bent over the fragrant

blossoms, with a heart brimful of memories, and tears dropped thick

and fast on the delicate petals. Charon gave a short bark of

satisfaction, and, raising her head, she saw Dr. Hartwell at the

opposite end of the greenhouse. He was clipping the withered flowers

from a luxuriant white japonica, the same that once furnished

ornaments for her hair. Evidently, he was rather surprised to see

her there, but continued clipping the faded blossoms, and whistled

to his dog. Charon acknowledged the invitation by another bark, but

nestled his great head against Beulah, and stood quite still, while

she passed her hand caressingly over him. She fancied a smile

crossed her guardian's lips; but when he turned toward her there was

no trace of it, and he merely said: "Where is Pauline?"

"In the parlor, with Mr. Mortimer."

"Here are the scissors; cut as many flowers as you like."

He held out the scissors; but she shook her head, and answered

hastily: "Thank you; I do not want any."

He looked at her searchingly, and, observing unshed tears in her

eyes, said, in a kinder tone than he had yet employed: "Beulah, what do you want?"

"Something that I almost despair of obtaining."

"Child, you are wasting your strength and energies in a fruitless

undertaking. Already you have grown thin and hollow-eyed; your

accustomed contented, cheerful spirit is deserting you. Your self-

appointed task is a hopeless one; utterly hopeless!"

"I will not believe it," said she firmly.

"Very well; some day you will be convinced that you are not

infallible." He smiled grimly, and busied himself with his flowers.