Mrs. Chilton was very pale, and her lips were compressed till they
grew purple. Clinching her hand, she said under her breath: "You artful little wretch. Am I to be thwarted by such a mere child?
You shall not quit the house. Go to your room, and don't make a fool
of yourself. In future I shall not concern myself about you, if you
take root at the front door. Go in, and let matters stand. I promise
you I will not interfere again, no matter what you do. Do you hear
me?"
"No. You have neither the power to detain nor to expel me. I shall
leave here immediately, and you need not attempt to coerce me; for,
if you do, I will acquaint Dr. Hartwell with the whole affair, as
soon as he comes, or when I see him. I am going for my clothes; not
those you so reluctantly had made, but the old garments I wore when
I worked for my bread." She shook off the detaining hand, and went
up to her room. Harriet had already lighted her lamp, and, as she
entered the door, the rays fell brightly on the picture she had
learned to love so well. Now she looked at it through scalding
tears, and, to her excited fancy, the smile seemed to have faded
from the lips of Hope, and the valley looked more dreary, and the
pilgrims more desolate and miserable. She turned from it, and,
taking off the clothes she wore, dressed herself in the humble
apparel of former days. The old trunk was scarcely worth keeping,
save as a relic; and folding up the clothes and books into as small
a bundle as possible, she took it in her arms and descended the
steps. She wished very much to tell Harriet good-by, and thank her
for her unvarying kindness; and now, on the eve of her departure,
she remembered the words whispered during her illness, and the offer
of assistance when she "got into trouble," as Harriet phrased it;
but, dreading to meet Mrs. Chilton again, she hurried down the hall,
and left the house. The friendly stars looked kindly down upon the
orphan, as she crossed the common, and proceeded toward the asylum,
and raising her eyes to the jeweled dome, the solemn beauty of the
night hushed the wild tumult in her heart, and she seemed to hear
the words pronounced from the skyey depths: "Lo, I am with you
always, even unto the end." Gradually, the results of the step she
had taken obtruded themselves before her, and with a keen pang of
pain and grief came the thought, "What will Dr. Hartwell think of
me?" All his kindness during the time she had passed beneath his
roof--his genial tones; his soft, caressing touch on her head; his
rare, but gentle smile; his constant care for her comfort and
happiness--all rushed like lightning over her mind, and made the hot
tears gush over her face. Mrs. Chilton would, of course, offer him
some plausible solution of her sudden departure. He would think her
ungrateful, and grow indifferent to her welfare or fate. Yet hope
whispered, "He will suspect the truth; he must know his sister's
nature; he will not blame me." But all this was in the cloudy realm
of conjecture, and the stern realities of her position weighed
heavily on her heart. Through Dr. Hartwell, who called to explain
her sudden disappearance, Mrs. Martin had sent her the eighteen
dollars due for three months' service, and this little sum was all
that she possessed. As she walked on, pondering the many
difficulties which attended the darling project of educating herself
thoroughly, the lights of the asylum greeted her, and it was with a
painful sense of desolation that she mounted the steps, and stood
upon the threshold, where she and Lilly had so often sat, in years
gone by. Mrs. Williams met her at the door, wondering what unusual
occurrence induced a visitor at this unseasonable hour. The hall
lamp shone on her kind but anxious face, and as Beulah looked at
her, remembered care and love caused a feeling of suffocation, and,
with an exclamation of joy, she threw her arms around her.
Astonished at a greeting so unexpected, the matron glanced hurriedly
at the face pressed against her bosom, and, recognizing her quondam
charge, folded her tenderly to her heart.