"All that sounds very heroic in the pages of a novel, but the reality is quite another matter. A tame, joyless, hopeless time you will have if you scorn good fortune, as you threaten, and go into the world to support yourself," answered Clara impatiently.
"I would rather struggle with her for a crust than hang on her garments asking a palace. I don't know what has come over you. You are strangely changed!" cried Beulah, pressing her hands on her friend's shoulders.
"The same change will come over you when you endure what I have. With all your boasted strength, you are but a woman; have a woman's heart, and one day will be unable to hush its hungry cries."
"Then I will crush it, so help me Heaven!" answered Beulah.
"No! sorrow will do that time enough; no suicidal effort will be necessary." For the first time Beulah marked an expression of bitterness in the usually gentle, quiet countenance. She was pained more than she chose to evince, and, seeing Dr. Hartwell's carriage at the door, prepared to return home.
"Tell him that I am very grateful for his kind offer; that his friendly remembrance is dear to a bereaved orphan. Ah, Beulah! I have known him from my childhood, and he has always been a friend as well as a physician. During my mother's long illness he watched her carefully and constantly, and when we tendered him the usual recompense for his services he refused all remuneration, declaring he had only been a friend. He knew we were poor, and could ill afford any expense. Oh, do you wonder that I—Are you going immediately? Come often when I get to a boarding house. Do, Beulah! I am so desolate; so desolate!" She bowed her head on Beulah's shoulder and wept unrestrainedly.
"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.
"Miss Beulah, do you know how long master expects to be gone? I thought maybe you could tell when you came home, for Mrs. Watson does not seem to know any more than I do."
"Gone! What do you mean?"