Beulah - Page 29/348

Beulah lifted her head, and listened. "All's well!" The mockery

maddened her, and she muttered audibly: "That is the sort of sympathy I shall have through life. I am to

hear that 'all is well' when my heart is dying, nay, dead within me!

Oh, if I could only die! What a calm, calm time I should have in my

coffin! Nobody to taunt me with my poverty and ugliness! Oh, what

did God make me for? The few years of my life have been full of

misery; I cannot remember one single day of pure happiness, for

there was always something to spoil what little joy I ever knew.

When I was born, why did not I die at once? And why did not God take

me instead of my dear, dear father? He should have been left with

Lilly, for people love the beautiful, but nobody will ever care for

me. I am of no use to anything, and so ugly that I hate myself. O

Lord, I don't want to live another day! I am sick of my life--take

me, take me!" But a feeble ray of comfort stole into her shivering

heart, as she bowed her head upon her hands; Eugene Graham loved

her; and the bleeding tendrils of affection henceforth clasped him

as their only support. She was aroused from her painful reverie by a

movement in the crib, and, hastening to her charge, was startled by

the appearance of the babe. The soft blue eyes were rolled up and

set, the face of a purplish hue, and the delicate limbs convulsed.

During her residence at the asylum she had more than once assisted

the matron in nursing children similarly affected; and now, calling

instantly for a tub of water, she soon immersed the rigid limbs in a

warm bath, while one of the waiters was dispatched for the family

physician. When Dr. Hartwell entered he found her standing with the

infant clasped in her arms, and, as his eyes rested curiously upon

her face, she forgot that he was a stranger, and, springing to meet

him, exclaimed: "Oh, sir; will he die?"

With his fingers on the bounding pulse, he answered: "He is very ill. Where is his mother? Who are you?"

"His mother is at a concert, and I am his nurse."

The spasms had ceased, but the twitching limbs told that they might

return any moment, and the physician immediately administered a

potion.

"How long will Mrs. Martin be absent?"

"It is uncertain. When shall I give the medicine again?"