"I was about to remind you of your engagement. But, Guy, whom have
you there?"
"My protegee I told you of. Beulah, this is Mr. Lockhart."
The rider reined his horse near her side, and, leaning forward as he
raised his hat, their eyes met. Both started visibly, and, extending
his hand, Mr. Lockhart said eagerly: "Ah, my little forest friend! I am truly glad to find you again."
She shook hands very quietly, but an expression of pleasure stole
over her face. Her guardian observed it, and asked: "Pray, Percy, what do you know of her?"
"That she sings very charmingly," answered his friend, smiling at
Beulah.
"He saw me once when I was at the asylum," said she, "And was singing part of the regime there?"
"No, Guy. She was wandering about the piney woods, near the asylum,
with two beautiful elves, when I chanced to meet her. She was
singing at the time. Beulah, I am glad to find you out again; and in
future, when I pay the doctor long visits, I shall expect you to
appear for my entertainment. Look to it, Guy, that she is present.
But I am fatigued with my unusual exercise, and must return home.
Good-by, Beulah; shake hands. I am going immediately to my room,
Guy; so come as soon as you can." He rode slowly on, while Dr.
Hartwell shook the reins, and Mazeppa sprang down the road again.
Beulah had remarked a great alteration in Mr. Lockhart's appearance;
he was much paler, and bore traces of recent and severe illness. His
genial manner and friendly words had interested her, and, looking up
at her guardian, she said timidly: "Is he ill, sir?"
"He has been, and is yet quite feeble. Do you like him?"
"I know nothing of him, except that he spoke to me one evening some
months ago. Does he live here, sir?"
"No; he has a plantation on the river, but is here on a visit
occasionally. Much of his life has been spent in Europe, and thither
he goes again very soon."
The sun had set. The bay seemed a vast sheet of fire, as the crimson
clouds cast their shifting shadows on its bosom; and, forgetting
everything else, Beulah leaned out of the buggy, and said almost
unconsciously: "How beautiful! how very beautiful!" Her lips were parted; her eyes
clear and sparkling with delight. Dr. Hartwell sighed, and, turning
from the bay road, approached his home. Beulah longed to speak to
him of what was pressing on her heart; but, glancing at his
countenance to see whether it was an auspicious time, she was
deterred by the somber sternness which overshadowed it, and before
she could summon courage to speak, they stopped at the front gate.