Beulah - Page 313/348

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?"