Beulah - Page 44/348

"Insult! May, can the unvarnished truth be such?"

They eyed each other steadily, and it was apparent that each iron

will was mated.

"Guy, you shall repent this."

"Perhaps so. You have made me repent many things."

"Do you mean to say that--"

"I mean to say, that since you have at last offered to assist in

nursing that unconscious child, I wish you to give the medicine

hourly. The last potion was at eight o'clock." He placed the candle

so as to shade the light from the sick girl, and left the room. Mrs.

Chilton sat for some time as he had left her with her head leaning

on her hand, her thoughts evidently perplexed and bitter. At

length she rose and stood close to Beulah, looking earnestly at her

emaciated face. She put her fingers on the burning temples and

wrist, and counted accurately the pulsations of the lava tide, then

bent her queenly head, and listened to the heavily drawn breathing.

A haughty smile lit her fine features as she said complacently: "A

mere tempest in a teacup. Pshaw, this girl will not mar my projects

long. By noon tomorrow she will be in eternity. I thought, the first

time I saw her ghostly face, she would trouble me but a short

season. What paradoxes men are! What on earth possessed Guy, with

his fastidious taste, to bring to his home such an ugly, wasted,

sallow little wretch? I verily believe, as a family, we are beset by

evil angels." Drawing out her watch, she saw that the hand had

passed nine. Raising the glass to her lips, she drank the quantity

prescribed for the sufferer, and was replacing it on the stand, when

Beulah's large, eloquent eyes startled her.

"Well, child, what do you want?" said she, trembling, despite her

assumed indifference. Beulah looked at her vacantly, then threw her

arms restlessly over the pillow, and slept again. Mrs. Chilton drew

up a chair, seated herself, and sank into a reverie of some length.

Ultimately she was aroused by perceiving her brother beside her, and

said hastily: "How is Mr. Vincent? Not dangerously ill, I hope!"

"Tomorrow will decide that. It is now ten minutes past ten; how many

potions have you given?"

"Two," answered she firmly.

"Thank you, May. I will relieve you now. Good-night."

"But you are worn out, and I am not. Let me sit up. I will wake you

if any change occurs."

"Thank you, I prefer watching tonight. Take that candle, and leave

it on the table in the hall. I need nothing but moonlight. Leave the

door open." As the flickering light vanished, he threw himself into

the chair beside the bed.