Beulah conjectured that they might, perhaps, entertain each other
without her assistance, and soon left them for the greenhouse, which
was connected with the parlors by a glass door. Followed by Charon,
who had remained beside her all day, she walked slowly between the
rows of plants, many of which were laden with flowers. Brilliant
clusters of scarlet geranium, pale, fragrant heliotropes, and
camellias of every hue surrounded her. Two or three canary birds, in
richly ornate cages, chirped and twittered continually, and for a
moment she forgot the changes that had taken place since the days
when she sought this favorite greenhouse to study her text-books.
Near her stood an antique China vase containing a rare creeper, now
full of beautiful, star-shaped lilac flowers. Many months before,
her guardian had given her this root, and she had planted it in this
same vase; now the long, graceful wreaths were looped carefully
back, and tied to a slender stake. She bent over the fragrant
blossoms, with a heart brimful of memories, and tears dropped thick
and fast on the delicate petals. Charon gave a short bark of
satisfaction, and, raising her head, she saw Dr. Hartwell at the
opposite end of the greenhouse. He was clipping the withered flowers
from a luxuriant white japonica, the same that once furnished
ornaments for her hair. Evidently, he was rather surprised to see
her there, but continued clipping the faded blossoms, and whistled
to his dog. Charon acknowledged the invitation by another bark, but
nestled his great head against Beulah, and stood quite still, while
she passed her hand caressingly over him. She fancied a smile
crossed her guardian's lips; but when he turned toward her there was
no trace of it, and he merely said: "Where is Pauline?"
"In the parlor, with Mr. Mortimer."
"Here are the scissors; cut as many flowers as you like."
He held out the scissors; but she shook her head, and answered
hastily: "Thank you; I do not want any."
He looked at her searchingly, and, observing unshed tears in her
eyes, said, in a kinder tone than he had yet employed: "Beulah, what do you want?"
"Something that I almost despair of obtaining."
"Child, you are wasting your strength and energies in a fruitless
undertaking. Already you have grown thin and hollow-eyed; your
accustomed contented, cheerful spirit is deserting you. Your self-
appointed task is a hopeless one; utterly hopeless!"
"I will not believe it," said she firmly.
"Very well; some day you will be convinced that you are not
infallible." He smiled grimly, and busied himself with his flowers.