"May, can I trust you?"
"Brother, you are cruelly unjust." She covered her face with her lace handkerchief.
"Am I, indeed?"
"Yes, you wrong me hourly, with miserable suspicions. Guy, remember that I have your blood in my veins, and it will not always tamely bear insult, even from you." She removed the handkerchief, and shook back her glossy curls, while her face grew still paler than was its wont.
"Insult! May, can the unvarnished truth be such?"
They eyed each other steadily, and it was apparent that each iron will was mated.
"Guy, you shall repent this."
"Perhaps so. You have made me repent many things."
"Do you mean to say that—"
"I mean to say, that since you have at last offered to assist in nursing that unconscious child, I wish you to give the medicine hourly. The last potion was at eight o'clock." He placed the candle so as to shade the light from the sick girl, and left the room. Mrs. Chilton sat for some time as he had left her with her head leaning on her hand, her thoughts evidently perplexed and bitter. At length she rose and stood close to Beulah, looking earnestly at her emaciated face. She put her fingers on the burning temples and wrist, and counted accurately the pulsations of the lava tide, then bent her queenly head, and listened to the heavily drawn breathing. A haughty smile lit her fine features as she said complacently: "A mere tempest in a teacup. Pshaw, this girl will not mar my projects long. By noon tomorrow she will be in eternity. I thought, the first time I saw her ghostly face, she would trouble me but a short season. What paradoxes men are! What on earth possessed Guy, with his fastidious taste, to bring to his home such an ugly, wasted, sallow little wretch? I verily believe, as a family, we are beset by evil angels." Drawing out her watch, she saw that the hand had passed nine. Raising the glass to her lips, she drank the quantity prescribed for the sufferer, and was replacing it on the stand, when Beulah's large, eloquent eyes startled her.