Beulah - Page 293/348

The hours of gradual convalescence were very trying to Beulah, now

that the sense of danger no longer nerved her to almost superhuman

endurance and exertion. Mr. Graham waited until his adopted son was

able to sit up, and then returned to the watering-place where his

wife remained. Thus the entire charge of the invalid devolved on the

tireless friends who had watched over him in the hour of peril.

Beulah had endeavored to banish the sorrow that pressed so heavily

on her heart, and to dispel the gloom and despondency which seemed

to have taken possession of the deserted husband. She read, talked,

sang to him, and constantly strove to cheer him by painting a future

in which the past was to be effectually canceled. Though well-nigh

exhausted by incessant care and loss of sleep, she never complained

of weariness, and always forced a smile of welcome to her lips when

the' invalid had his chair wheeled to her side, or tottered out into

the dining room to join her.

One morning in August she sat on the

little gallery at the rear of the house, with a table before her,

engaged in drawing some of the clusters of blue, white, and pink

convolvulus which festooned the pillars and balustrade. Eugene sat

near her, with his thin face leaning on his hand, his thoughts

evidently far removed from flowers. His arm was still in a sling,

and he looked emaciated and dejected. Mrs. Williams had been talking

to him cheerfully about some money matters he had promised to

arrange for her so soon as he was well enough to go to his office;

but, gathering up her working materials, the old lady went into the

kitchen, and the two sat for some time in silence.

One of his long- drawn sighs arrested Beulah's attention, and she said kindly: "What is the matter, brother mine? Are you tired of watching my

clumsy fingers? Shall I finish that essay of Macaulay's you were so

much interested in yesterday, or will you have another of Bryant's

poems?" She laid down her pencil, quite ready to divert his mind by

reading.

"No; do not quit your drawing; I should not enjoy even Macaulay to-

day."

He threw his head back, and sighed again.

"Why, Eugene? Don't you feel as well as usual this morning? Remember

your family will arrive to-day; you should be the happiest man

living."

"Oh, Beulah! don't mock me. I cannot bear it. My life seems a

hopeless blank."

"You ought not to talk so despondingly; you have everything to live

for. House your energies. Be indeed a man. Conquer this weak,

repining spirit. Don't you remember the motto on the tombstone at

St. Gilgen?