Never have I found it so difficult to describe a woman as I find it to describe Mrs. Beuland; I wish I could picture to you this most unusual woman as I knew her in the southland, a mere girl of sixteen; as I think of her now she brings to my mind a poem of William Wordsworth:
"I saw her upon nearer view,
A spirit, yet a woman too:
Her household motions light and free,
And steps of virgin liberty;
A countenance in which did meet
Sweet records, promises as sweet;
A creature not too bright or good
For human nature's daily food—
For transient sorrows, simple wiles,
Praise, blame, love, kisses, tears, and smiles."
Yes, she was like a poem, with much of the untamed grace of a panther, and the gentleness of a dove…..
In Balzac's unique story, "A Passion in the Desert," a question is asked: "How did their friendship end?" The answer is, "Like all great passions—in a misunderstanding. One suspects the other. One is too proud to ask for an explanation and the other too stubborn to offer it." And so it was with Mrs. Beuland, else I should not be recording her romance here.
I am glad the story of Balzac did not read: "Like all great loves," because I believe that a great love always brings with it harmony and understanding. The misunderstanding in this case was due to the fact, that the girl did not know that under this great passion lay slumbering a wonderful love of everlasting endurance.
Surely the heroine of this romance was deserving of a great love. She was like a sunbeam when she entered a room, she always brought gladness; she radiated the joy of living.
She rode like a princess, danced like a fairy, was a child of nature and at the same time a woman of the world. I have seen her romp in a daisy field and gather flowers with the children, as much a child as any of them, and a few hours later I have met her in a drawing room, an entirely different person, all dignity and self possession.
Mrs. Beuland was a daughter of one of the first families of Virginia; tall and stately, with a splendid, graceful physique, blue eyes, black hair and olive skin. Her physical charm and mental attraction were always struggling for supremacy.
She was a girl of many moods; sometimes the joy of living would just radiate from her and her care-free laughter and musical voice would be that of a happy child; another time her eyes would lose the sparkling, captivating expression and become dreamy and thoughtful, as though they were peering into the great beyond; her voice would tremble with earnestness as she would discuss some serious subject. And then again there would be a note of sadness, though never of bitterness.
I knew Mrs. Beuland as Nell Wilbur in Virginia, before her marriage to Mr. Beuland. Her family were among the victims of the Civil War who were left paupers after the wreckage of the South.