Beulah - Page 223/348

Cornelia Graham seemed for a time to have rallied all her strength,

and attended parties and kept her place at the opera with a

regularity which argued a complete recovery. Antoinette Dupres was

admired and nattered; the season was unusually gay. What if Death

had so lately held his awful assize in the city? Bereaved families

wrapped their sable garments about lonely hearts, and wept over the

countless mounds in the cemetery; but the wine-cup and song and

dance went their accustomed rounds in fashionable quarters, and

drink, dress, and be merry appeared the all-absorbing thought. Into

this gayety Eugene Graham eagerly plunged; night after night was

spent in one continued whirl; day by day he wandered further astray,

and ere long his visits to Beulah ceased entirely. Antoinette

thoroughly understood the game she had to play, and easily and

rapidly he fell into the snare. To win her seemed his only wish; and

not even Cornelia's keenly searching eyes could check his admiration

and devotion. January had gone; February drew near its close. Beulah

had not seen Eugene for many days and felt more than usually anxious

concerning him, for little intercourse now existed between Cornelia

and herself. One evening, however, as she stood before a glass and

arranged her hair with more than ordinary care, she felt that she

would soon have an opportunity of judging whether reports were true.

If he indeed rushed along the highway to ruin, one glance would

discover to her the fact. Dr. Asbury wished to give Pauline Chilton

a party, and his own and Mrs. Asbury's kind persuasions induced the

orphan to consent to attend. The evening had arrived. She put on her

simple Swiss muslin dress, without a wish for anything more costly,

and entered the carriage her friends had sent to convey her to the

house. The guests rapidly assembled; soon the rooms were thronged

with merry people, whose moving to and fro prevented regular

conversation. The brilliant chandeliers flashed down on rich silks

and satins, gossamer fabrics, and diamonds which blazed dazzlingly.

Pauline was superbly beautiful. Excitement lighted her eyes and

flushed her cheeks, until all paused to gaze at her transcendent

loveliness. It was generally known that ere many days her marriage

would take place, and people looked at her in her marvelous, queenly

beauty, and wondered what infatuation induced her to give her hand

to a minister, when she, of all others present, seemed made to move

in the gay scene where she reigned supreme. From a quiet seat near

the window Beulah watched her airy, graceful form glide through the

quadrille, and feared that in future years she would sigh for the

gayeties which in her destined lot would be withheld from her. She

tried to fancy the dazzling beauty metamorphosed into the staid

clergyman's wife, divested of satin and diamonds, and visiting the

squalid and suffering portion of her husband's flock. But the

contrast was too glaring, and she turned her head to watch for

Eugene's appearance. Before long she saw him cross the room with

Antoinette on his arm. The quadrille had ended, and as, at the

request of one of the guests, the band played a brilliant mazourka,

numerous couples took their places on the floor. Beulah had never

seen the mazourka danced in public; she knew that neither Helen nor

Georgia ever danced the so-called "fancy dances," and was not a

little surprised when the gentlemen encircled the waists of their

partners and whirled away. Her eyes followed Eugene's tall form, as

the circuit of the parlors was rapidly made, and he approached the

corner where she sat. He held his lovely partner close to his heart,

and her head drooped very contentedly on his shoulder. He was

talking to her as they danced, and his lips nearly touched her

glowing cheek. On they came, so close to Beulah that Antoinette's

gauzy dress floated against her, and, as the music quickened, faster

flew the dancers. Beulah looked on with a sensation of disgust which

might have been easily read in her countenance; verily she blushed

for her degraded sex, and, sick of the scene, left the window and

retreated to the library, where the more sedate portion of the

guests were discussing various topics. Here were Mr. and Mrs.

Grayson; Claudia was North, at school. Beulah found a seat near Mrs.

Asbury, and endeavored to banish the painful recollections which

Mrs. Grayson's face recalled. They had not met since the memorable

day when the orphan first found a guardian, and she felt that there

was still an unconquerable aversion in her heart which caused it to

throb heavily. She thought the time tediously long, and when at last

the signal for supper was given, felt relieved. As usual, there was

rushing and squeezing into the supper room, and, waiting until the

hall was comparatively deserted, she ran up to the dressing room for

her shawl, tired of the crowd and anxious to get home again. She

remembered that she had dropped her fan behind one of the sofas in

the parlor, and, as all were at supper, fancied she could obtain it

unobserved, and entered the room for that purpose. A gentleman stood

by the fire; but, without noticing him, she pushed the sofa aside,

secured her fan, and was turning away when a well-known voice

startled her.