Beulah Part 4

"Sit down in this rocking-chair and warm your hands."

He seated himself near her, and as the firelight glowed on the faces of both, they contrasted strangely. One was cla.s.sical and full of youthful beauty, the other wan, haggard, and sorrow-stained. He looked about sixteen, and promised to become a strikingly handsome man, while the proportions of his polished brow indicated more than ordinary intellectual endowments. He watched his companion earnestly, sadly, and, leaning forward, took one of her hands.

"Beulah, I see from your face that you have not shed a single tear.

I wish you would not keep your sorrow so pent up in your heart. It grieves me to see you look as you do now."

"Oh, I can't help it! If it were not for you I believe I should die, I am so very miserable. Eugene, if you could have seen our Lilly cling to me, even to the last moment. It seems to me my heart will break." She sank her weary head on his shoulder.

"Yes, darling, I know you are suffering very much; but remember that 'all things work together for good to them that love G.o.d.' Perhaps he sees it is best that you should give her up for a while, and if so, will you not try to bear it cheerfully, instead of making yourself sick with useless grief?" He gently smoothed the hair from her brow as he spoke. She did not reply. He did not expect that she would, and continued in the same kind tone:

"I am much more troubled about your taking this situation. If I had known it earlier I would have endeavored to prevent it; but I suppose it cannot be helped now, for a while at least."

"As soon as possible I am determined you shall go to school; and remember, dear Beulah, I am just as much grieved at your sorrows as you are. In a few years I shall have a home of my own, and you shall be the first to come to it. Never mind these dark, stormy days. Do you remember what our minister said in his sermon last Sunday? 'The darkest hour is just before daybreak.' Already I begin to see the 'silver lining' of clouds that a few years, or even months ago, seemed heavy and cheerless. I have heard a great deal about the ills and trials of this world, but I think a brave, hopeful spirit will do much toward remedying the evil. For my part, I look forward to the time when you and I shall have a home of our own, and then Lilly and Claudy can be with us. I was talking to Mrs. Mason about it yesterday; she loves you very much. I dare say all will be right; so cheer up, Beulah, and do look on the bright side."

"Eugene, you are the only bright side I have to look on. Sometimes I think you will get tired of me, and if you ever do I shall want to die. Oh, how could I bear to know you did not love me!" She raised her head and looked earnestly at his n.o.ble face.

Eugene laughingly repeated her words.

"Get tired of you, indeed--not I, little sister."

"Oh, I forgot to thank you for your book. I like it better than anything I ever read. Some parts are so beautiful--so very grand. I keep it in my basket, and read every moment I can spare."

"I knew you would like it, particularly 'Excelsior.' Beulah, I have written 'excelsior' on my banner, and I intend, like that n.o.ble youth, to press forward over every obstacle, mounting at every step, until I, too, stand on the highest pinnacle, and plant my banner where its glorious motto shall float over the world. That poem stirs my very soul like martial music, and I feel as if I should like to see Mr. Longfellow, to tell him how I thank him for having written it. I want you to mark the pa.s.sages you like best; and, now I think of it, here is a pencil I cut for you to-day."

He drew it from his pocket and put it into her hand, while his face glowed with enthusiasm.

"Thank you, thank you." Grateful tears sprang to her eyes; tears which acute suffering could not wring from her. He saw the gathering drops, and said gayly:

"If that is the way you intend to thank me I shall bring you no more pencils. But you look very pale, and ought to be asleep, for I have no doubt to-morrow will be a trying day for you. Do exert yourself to be brave, and bear it all for a little while; I know it will not be very long, and I shall come and see you just as often as possible."

He rose as he spoke.

"Are you obliged to go so soon? Can't you stay with me a little longer?" pleaded Beulah.

The boy's eyes filled as he looked at the beseeching, haggard face, and he answered hastily:

"Not to-night, Beulah; you must go to sleep--you need it sadly."

"You will be cold walking home. Let me get you a shawl."

"No, I left my overcoat in the hall--here it is."

She followed him out to the door, as he drew it on and put on his cap. The moonlight shone over the threshold, and he thought she looked ghostly as it fell upon her face. He took her hand, pressed it gently, and said:

"Good-night, dear Beulah."

"Good-by, Eugene. Do come and see me again, soon."

"Yes, I will. Don't get low-spirited as soon as I am out of sight, do you hear?"

"Yes, I hear; I will try not to complain. Walk fast and keep warm."

She pressed his hand affectionately, watched his receding form as long as she could trace its outline, and then went slowly back to the dormitory. Falling on her knees by the side of Lilly's empty couch, she besought G.o.d, in trembling accents, to bless her "darling little sister and Claudy," and to give her strength to perform all her duties contentedly and cheerfully.

CHAPTER III.

Beulah stood waiting on the steps of the large mansion to which she had been directed by Miss Dorothea White. Her heart throbbed painfully, and her hand trembled as she rang the bell. The door was opened by a negro waiter, who merely glanced at her, and asked carelessly:

"Well, little miss, what do you want?"

"Is Mrs. Martin at home?"

"Yes, miss; come, walk in. There is but a poor fire in the front parlor--suppose you sit down in the back room. Mrs. Martin will be down in a minute."

The first object which arrested Beulah's attention was a center table covered with books. "Perhaps," thought she, "they will permit me to read some of them." While she sat looking over the t.i.tles the rustle of silk caused her to glance around, and she saw Mrs. Martin quite near her.

"Good-morning," said the lady, with a searching look, which made the little figure tremble.

"Good-morning, madam."

"You are the girl Miss White promised to send from the asylum, are you not?"

"Yes, madam."

"Do you think you can take good care of my baby?"

"Oh, I will try."

"You don't look strong and healthy--have you been sick?"

"No; I am very well, thank you."

"I may want you to sew some, occasionally, when the baby is asleep.

Can you hem and st.i.tch neatly?"

"I believe I sew very well, madam--our matron says so."

"What is your name? Miss White told me, but I have forgotten it."

"Beulah Benton."

"Well, Beulah, I think you will suit me very well, if you are only careful and attend to my directions. I am just going out shopping, but you can come upstairs and take charge of Johnny. Where are your clothes?"

"Our matron will send them to-day."