Beulah - Page 221/348

"Very well; mark me, though, your intellectual pride will yet wreck

your happiness."

He walked out of the greenhouse, whistling to Charon, who bounded

after him. Beulah saw from the slanting sunlight that the afternoon

was far advanced, and feeling in no mood to listen to Pauline's

nonsense she found her bonnet and shawl, and repaired to the parlor

to say good-by to the happy pair, who seemed unconscious of her long

absence. As she left the house the window of the study was thrown

open, and Dr. Hartwell called out carelessly: "Wait, and let me order the carriage."

"No, thank you."

"I am going into town directly, and can take you home in the buggy."

"I will not trouble you; I prefer walking. Good-by."

He bowed coldly, and she hurried away, glad to reach the gate and

feel that she was once more free from his searching glance and

beyond the sound of his reserved, chilling tones. As she walked on,

groups of happy parents and children were seen in every direction,

taking their quiet Sabbath ramble through the suburbs; and as joyous

voices and innocent laughter fell upon the still air, she remembered

with keen sorrow that she had no ties, no kindred, no companions.

Lilly's cherub face looked out at her from the somber frame of the

past, and Eugene's early friendship seemed now a taunting specter.

In her warm, loving heart were unfathomable depths of intense

tenderness. Was it the wise providence of God which sealed these

wells of affection, or was it a grim, merciless fate which snatched

her idols from her, one by one, and left her heart desolate? Such an

inquiry darted through her mind; but she put it resolutely aside,

and consoled herself much after this fashion: "Why should I question

the circumstances of my life? If the God of Moses guards his

creation, all things are well. If not, life is a lottery, and though

I have drawn blanks thus far, the future may contain a prize, and

for me that prize may be the truth my soul pants after. I have no

right to complain; the very loneliness of my position fits me

peculiarly for the work I have to do. I will labor, and be content."

The cloud passed swiftly from her countenance, and she looked up to

the quiet sky with a brave, hopeful heart.