Her eyelids drooped, and a tremor passed over her mouth, as she
answered meekly: "I did not intend to be rude; but I dread to have people look at or
speak to me."
"Why, pray?"
"Because I am so ugly, and they are sure to show me that they see
it."
He drew his arm protectingly around her, and said gently: "Poor
child; it is cruel to make you suffer so. But rest assured Dr.
Hartwell will never wound your feelings. I have heard that he was a
very stern and eccentric man, though a remarkably learned one, yet I
confess there is something in his manner which fascinates me, and if
you will only be like yourself he will always speak kindly to you.
But I am staying too long. Don't look so forlorn and ghostly.
Positively I hate to come to see you, for somehow your wretched face
haunts me. Here is a book I have just finished; perhaps it will
serve to divert your mind." He put a copy of Irving's "Sketch Book"
in her hand, and drew on his gloves.
"Oh, Eugene, can't you stay a little longer--just a little longer?
It seems such a great while since you were here." She looked up
wistfully into the handsome, boyish face.
Drawing out an elegant new watch, he held it before her eyes, and
answered hurriedly: "See there; it is ten o'clock, and I am behind my appointment at the
lecture room. Good-by; try to be cheerful. 'What can't be cured must
be endured,' you know, so do not despond, dear Beulah." Shaking her
hand cordially, he ran down the steps. The orphan pressed her hands
tightly over her brow, as if to stay some sudden, painful thought,
and slowly remounted the stairs.