"Love him! No!"
"You loved him once—hush! don't deny it! I know that you did. You loved him during his absence, and you must love him still. Beulah, you do love him!"
"I have a true sisterly affection for him; but as for the love which you allude to, I tell you, Cornelia, I have not one particle!"
"Then he is lost!" Sinking back in her chair, Cornelia groaned aloud.
"Why Eugene should have made such an impression on your mind, I cannot conjecture. He has grown perfectly indifferent to me; and even if he had not, we could never be more than friends. Boyish fancies have all passed away. He is a man now—still my friend, I believe; but no longer what he once was to me. Cornelia, I, too, see his growing tendency to dissipation, with a degree of painful apprehension which I do not hesitate to avow. Though cordial enough when we meet, I know and feel that he carefully avoids me. Consequently, I have no opportunity to exert what little influence I may possess. I looked at his flushed face just now, and my thoughts flew back to the golden days of his boyhood, when he was all that a noble, pure, generous nature could make him. I would ten thousand times rather know that he was sleeping by my little sister's side in the graveyard than see him disgrace himself!" Her voice faltered, and she drooped her head to conceal the anguish which convulsed her features.
"Beulah, if he loves you still, you will not reject him?" cried
Cornelia eagerly.
"He does not love me."
"Why will you evade me? Suppose that he does?"
"Then I tell you solemnly, not all Christendom could induce me to marry him!"
"But to save him, Beulah! to save him!" replied Cornelia, clasping her hands entreatingly.