John, the dining-room servant, handed her a small whip, with mother-
of-pearl handle, inlaid with gold.
"It is no such thing!" cried Mrs. Graham, gathering up the folds of
her habit and coloring with vexation.
John shrugged his shoulders and retired, and his mistress sailed out
to the front door, where her horse and her escort awaited her.
"Run and get your hat and cape, Cornelia; I see the buggy coming
round the corner."
Eugene wiped away the teardrops glittering on her rosy cheeks, and
she sprang off to obey him; while, in the interim, he sent for
Flora, and gave her to understand that he would allow no repetition
of the deception he had accidentally discovered. The maid retired,
highly incensed, of course, and resolved to wreak vengeance on both
John and Cornelia; and Eugene took his seat in the buggy in no
particularly amiable mood. They found Beulah in her little flower
gaiden, pruning some luxuriant geraniums. She threw down her knife
and hastened to meet them, and all three sat down on the steps.
Four years had brought sorrow to that cottage home; had hushed the
kind accents of the matron; stilled the true heart that throbbed so
tenderly for her orphan charge, and had seen her laid to rest in a
warm, grassy slope of the cemetery. She died peaceably three months
before the day of which I write; died exhorting Eugene and Beulah so
to pass the season of probation that they might be reunited beyond
the grave. In life she had humbly exemplified the teachings of our
Saviour, and her death was a triumphant attestation of the joy and
hope which only the Christian religion can afford in the final hour.
To Beulah this blow was peculiarly severe, and never had the sense
of her orphanage been more painfully acute than when she returned
from the funeral to her lonely home. But to sorrow her nature was
inured; she had learned to bear grief, and only her mourning dress
and subdued manner told how deeply she felt this trial. Now she took
Cornelia in her arms and kissed her fondly, while the child returned
her caresses with a warmth which proved how sincerely she loved her.
"May I have some flowers, auntie?" cried she, patting Beulah's pale
cheek with her plump, dimpled hands.
"Yes; just as many as you can carry home. Go gather some."
She sprang off, and the two sat watching the flutter of her white
dress among the flower-beds. She piled her little apron as full as
possible, and came back panting and delighted. Beulah looked down at
the beautiful beaming face, and, twining one of the silky curls over
her finger, said musingly: "Eugene, she always reminds me of Lilly. Do you see the
resemblance?"