Beulah - Page 244/348

One afternoon in October the indisposition of one of her music

pupils released Beulah earlier than usual, and she determined to

seize this opportunity and visit the asylum. Of the walk across the

common she never wearied; the grass had grown brown, and, save the

deep, changeless green of the ancient pines, only the hectic

coloring of the dying year met her eye. The day was cool and windy,

and the common presented a scene of boisterous confusion, which she

paused to contemplate. A number of boys had collected to play their

favorite games; balls flew in every direction and merry shouts rang

cheerily through the air. She looked on a few moments at their

careless, happy sports, and resumed her walk, feeling that their

joyousness was certainly contagious, she was so much lighter-hearted

from having watched their beaming faces and listened to their

ringing laughter.

As she drew near the asylum gate memory began to pass its fingers

over her heart; but here, too, sounds of gladness met her. The

orphans were assembled on the lawn in front of the building,

chatting as cheerfully as though they were all members of one

family. The little ones trundled hoops and chased each other up and

down the graveled walks; some of the boys tossed their balls, and a

few of the larger girls were tying up chrysanthemums to slender

stakes. They were dressed alike; all looked contented, neat, and

happy, and their rosy faces presented a noble tribute to the

efficacy and untold blessings of the institution. To many of them

Beulah was well known. She threw off her bonnet and shawl, and

assisted the girls in their work among the flowers, while the little

ones gathered around her, lisping their childish welcome and coaxing

her to join in their innocent games. The stately China trees, where,

in years gone by, Lilly and Claudy had watched the chirping robins,

were again clad in their rich, golden livery; and, as Beulah looked

up at the red brick walls that had sheltered her head in the early

days of orphanage, it seemed but yesterday that she trod these walks

and listened to the wintry wind sighing through these same loved

trees. The children told her that their matron had been sick and was

not yet quite well, and, needing no pilot, Beulah went through the

house in search of her. She found her at last in the storeroom,

giving out materials for the evening meal, and had an opportunity of

observing the change which had taken place in the last few months.

She was pale and thin, and her sharpened features wore a depressed,

weary expression; but, turning round, she perceived Beulah, and a

glad smile broke instantly over her countenance as she clasped the

girl's hand in both hers.