"I do, in the sense of great superiority."
"The world is not so flattering in its estimate."
"No; for slander loves a lofty mark."
"Beulah Benton, do you mean that for me?"
"Not unless you feel that it applies to you particularly."
"If he is so faultless and unequaled, pray, why did not you remain
in his house?"
"I am not in the habit of accounting to anyone for my motives or my
actions." She lifted her slender form haughtily.
"In which case the public has a habit of supplying both."
"Then accept its fabrications."
"You need not be so fierce. I like Dr. Hartwell quite as well as you
do, I dare say; but probably I know more of his history."
"It is all immaterial to me. Drop the subject, if you please, and
let me read to you. I believe I came here for quiet companionship,
not recrimination and cross-questioning."
"Beulah, the world says you are to marry your guardian. I do not ask
from impertinent curiosity, but sincere friendship--is it true?"
"About as true as your notion of my marriage with Eugene. No;
scarcely so plausible."
"Our families were connected, you know."
"No; I neither know, nor wish to know. He never alluded to his wife,
or his history, and I have just now no desire to hear anything about
the matter. He is the best friend I ever had; I want to honor and
reverence him always; and, of course, the world's version of his
domestic affairs does him injustice. So be good enough to say no
more about him."
"Very well. On hearing your voice from the parlor he left a small
parcel, which he requested me to give you. He laid it on the table,
I believe; yes, there it is. Now read 'Egmont' to me, if you
please."
Cornelia crossed the room, threw herself on a couch, and settled her
pillow comfortably. Beulah took the parcel, which was carefully
sealed, and wondered what it contained. It was heavy and felt hard.
They had parted in anger; what could it possibly be? Cornelia's
black eyes were on her countenance. She put the package in her
pocket, seated herself by the couch, and commenced "Egmont." It was
with a feeling of indescribable relief that the orphan awoke, at
dawn the following morning, and dressed by the gray twilight. She
had fallen asleep the night before amid the hum of voices, of
laughter, and of dancing feet. Sounds of gayety, from the merry
party below, had found their way to the chamber of the heiress, and
when Beulah left her at midnight she was still wakeful and restless.
The young teacher could not wait for the late breakfast of the
luxurious Grahams, and, just as the first level ray of sunshine
flashed up from the east, she tied on her bonnet and noiselessly
entered Cornelia's room. The heavy curtains kept it close and dark,
and on the hearth a taper burned with pale, sickly light. Cornelia
slept soundly; but her breathing was heavy and irregular, and the
face wore a scowl, as if some severe pain had distorted it. The
ivory-like arms were thrown up over the head, and large drops
glistened on the wan brow. Beulah stood beside the bed a few
minutes; the apartment was furnished with almost Oriental splendor;
but how all this satin, and rosewood, and silver, and marble mocked
the restless, suffering sleeper! Beulah felt tears of compassion
weighing down her lashes, as she watched the haggard countenance of
this petted child of fortune; but, unwilling to rouse her, she
silently stole down the steps. The hall was dark; the smell of gas
almost stifling. Of course, the servants followed the example of
their owners, and, as no one appeared, she unlocked the street door,
and walked homeward with a sensation of pleasurable relief which
impressed itself very legibly on her face. The sky was cloudless;
the early risen run looked over the earth in dazzling radiance; and
the cold, pure, wintry air made the blood tingle in Beulah's veins.
A great, unspeakable joy filled her soul; the uplifted eyes beamed
with gladness; her brave, hopeful spirit looked into the future with
unquestioning trust; and, as the image of her unhappy friend flitted
across her mind, she exclaimed: "This world is lull of beauty, like other worlds above, And if we
did our duty, it might be full of loe."