"Oh, heiresses are always beautiful and charming in the eyes of the
world! Beulah, do you know that I watched for Eugene, for days, and
weeks, and months after his return from Europe? I wanted to see him-
-oh, so much! I loved you both as though you were my own children. I
was so proud of that boy! I had raised him from a crawling infant,
and never dreamed that he would forget me. But he did not come. I
have not seen him since he left, six years ago, for Germany. Oh, the
boy has pained me--pained me! I loved him so much!"
Beulah's brow clouded heavily, as she said: "It is better so--better that you should not see him. He is not what
he was when he quitted us."
"Is it true, then, that he drinks--that he is wild and dissipated? I
heard it once, but would not believe it. Oh, it can't be that Eugene
drinks?"
"Yes, he drinks--not to stupid intoxication, but too freely for his
health and character. He does not look like himself now."
Mrs. Williams bowed down her head and wept bitterly, while Beulah
continued sorrowfully: "His adoption was his ruin. Had he remained dependent on his
individual exertions he would have grown up an honor to himself and
his friends. But Mr. Graham is considered very wealthy, and Eugene
weakly desisted from the honest labor which was his duty. His
fashionable associates have ruined him. In Europe he learned to
drink, and here his companions dragged him constantly into scenes of
dissipation. But I do not despair of him yet. It may be long before
he awakens from this infatuation; but I trust he will yet reform. I
cannot bear to think of him as a confirmed drunkard! Oh, no! no! I
may be wrong, but I still hope that his nobler nature will conquer."
"God help the boy! I have prayed for him for years, and I shall pray
for him still, though he has forgotten me."
She sobbed, and covered her face with her apron. A joyless smile
flitted over Beulah's fixed, grave features, as she said
encouragingly: "He will come to see you when he returns from the North. He has not
forgotten you--that is impossible. Like me, he owes you too much."
"I shall leave here very soon," said Mrs. Williams, wiping her eyes.
"Leave the asylum! for what?"
"I am getting old, child, and my health is none of the best. The
duties are very heavy here, and I am not willing to occupy the
position unless I could discharge all the duties faithfully. I have
sent in my resignation to the managers, and as soon as they succeed
in getting another matron, I shall leave the asylum. I am sorry to
be obliged to go; I have been here so long that I am very much
attached to the place and the children. But I am not able to do what
I have done, and I know it is right that I should give up the
position."