Beulah - Page 318/348

"Fold that coat for me, my dear; there, give it to me; I believe

there is room in this trunk for it."

Mrs. Asbury took one of her husband's coats from Beulah's hand and

carefully packed it away.

"How long will you be absent, do you suppose?"

"Probably not longer than a month. The doctor thinks a few days at

Saratoga will invigorate him. If you had consented to go, we had

intended spending a week at Niagara. I am sorry you will not go,

Beulah; you would enjoy the trip, and, moreover, the change would

benefit you. Why do you so pertinaciously reject that legacy of

Cornelia's? The money has been in my husband's hands for some years

untouched, and Mr. Graham said, not long since, that you might just

as well accept it, for he would never receive a cent of it in

return. The original sum has been considerably augmented by

judicious investments, and would place you above the necessity of

labor, if you would accept it. Your refusal wounds Mr. Graham; he

told me so last week. It was Cornelia's particular request that you

should have that amount, and he is anxious to see you in possession

of it. I told him of your suggestion that he should add this legacy

to the sum already given to the asylum; but he vowed solemnly he

would have nothing to do with it. If you chose to give it to the

asylum, you could do so, of course; the money was yours. He never

would touch a cent of it. Beulah, if you will not think me

officious, I will say, candidly, that I think you ought to accept

it. That is, use it, for the legacy has been left, whether you

employ it or not."

Beulah looked grave and troubled, but made no reply.

Mrs. Asbury finished packing the trunk, locked it, and, turning

toward the door, said: "I am going upstairs to see about the furniture in that room which

Georgia calls the 'Pitti Gallery.' Come with me, my dear."

She led the way, and Beulah followed, until they reached a large

apartment in the third story, the door of which Mrs. Asbury

unlocked. As they entered Beulah started on seeing the statuary and

paintings with which she was so familiar in former years; and in one

corner of the room stood the melodeon, carefully covered. A quantity

of tissue paper lay on the floor, and Mrs. Asbury began to cover the

paintings by pinning the sheets together. Beulah took off her gloves

and assisted; there was silence for some time; but, on lifting a

piece of drapery, Mrs. Asbury exposed the face of a portrait which

Beulah recognized, from the peculiarity of the frame, as the one

that had hung over the mantel in her guardian's study. Paper and

pins fell from her fingers, and, drawing a deep breath, she gazed

upon the face she had so long desired to see. She traced a slight

resemblance to Antoinette in the faultless features; the countenance

was surpassingly beautiful. It was a young, girlish face, sparkling

with joyousness, bewitching in its wonderful loveliness. The

eloquent eyes were strangely, almost wildly, brilliant, the full

crimson lips possessed that rare outline one sees in old pictures,

and the cheek, tinted like a sea-shell, rested on one delicate,

dimpled hand. Beulah looked, and grew dizzy. This was his wife; this

the portrait he had kept shrouded so long and so carefully. How he

must have worshiped that radiant young bride!