Beulah - Page 99/348

"Yes, I will come as often as I can; and, Clara, do try to cheer up.

I can't bear to see you sink down in this way." She kissed the

tearful face and hurried away.

It was Saturday, and, retiring to her own room, she answered

Eugene's brief letter. Long before she had seen with painful anxiety

that he wrote more and more rarely, and, while his communications

clearly conveyed the impression that he fancied they were essential

to her happiness, the protective tenderness of early years gave

place to a certain commanding yet condescending tone. Intuitively

perceiving, yet unable to analyze this gradual revolution of

feeling, Beulah was sometimes tempted to cut short the

correspondence. But her long and ardent attachment drowned the

whispers of wounded pride, and hallowed memories of his boyish love

ever prevented an expression of the pain and wonder with which she

beheld the alteration in his character. Unwilling to accuse him of

the weakness which prompted much of his arrogance and egotism, her

heart framed various excuses for his seeming coldness. At first she

had written often, and without reference to ordinary epistolary

debts; but now she regularly waited (and that for some time) for the

arrival of his letters; not from a diminution of affection so much

as from true womanly delicacy, lest she should obtrude herself too

frequently upon his notice. More than once she had been troubled by

a dawning consciousness of her own superiority; but, accustomed for

years to look up to him as a sort of infallible guide, she would not

admit the suggestion, and tried to keep alive the admiring respect

with which she had been wont to defer to his judgment. He seemed to

consider his dogmatic dictation both acceptable and necessary, and

it was this assumed mastery, unaccompanied with manifestations of

former tenderness, which irritated and aroused her pride. With the

brush of youthful imagination she had painted him as the future

statesman--gifted, popular, and revered; and while visions of his

fame and glory flitted before her the promise of sharing all with

her was by no means the least fascinating feature in her fancy

picture. Of late, however, he had ceased to speak of the choice of a

profession, and mentioned vaguely Mr. Graham's wish that he should

acquaint himself thoroughly with French, German, and Spanish, in

order to facilitate the correspondence of the firm with foreign

houses. She felt that once embarked on the sea of mercantile life he

would have little leisure or inclination to pursue the paths which

she hoped to travel by his side, and, on this occasion, her letter

was longer and more earnest than usual, urging his adherence to the

original choice of the law and using every forcible argument she

could adduce. Finally the reply was sealed and directed, and she

went down to the study to place it in the marble receiver which

stood on her guardian's desk. Hal, who accompanied the doctor in his

round of visits, always took their letters to the post office, and

punctually deposited all directed to them in the vase. To her

surprise she found no fire in the grate. The blinds were drawn

closely, and, in placing her letter on the desk, she noticed several

addressed to the doctor and evidently unopened. They must have

arrived the day before, and while she wondered at the aspect of the

room Harriet entered.