"I merely opened the gate for him," replied the girl, looking
steadily up at the searching eyes.
"There was a servant with him to do that. In future don't make
yourself so conspicuous. You must keep away from the flower beds
too. The doctor wishes no one prowling about them; he gave
particular directions that no one should go there in his absence."
They eyed each other an instant; then, drawing up her slender form
to its utmost height, Beulah replied proudly: "Be assured, madam, I shall not trespass on forbidden ground!"
"Very well." The lace curtains swept back to their place--the fair
face was withdrawn.
"She hates me," thought Beulah, walking on to her own room; "she
hates me, and certainly I do not love her. I shall like Pauline very
much, but her mother and I never will get on smoothly. What freezing
eyes she has, and what a disagreeable look there is about her mouth
whenever she sees me! She wishes me to remember all the time that I
am poor, and that she is the mistress of this elegant house. Ah, I
am not likely to forget it!" The old smile of bitterness crossed her
face.
The days passed swiftly. Beulah spent most of her time in her own
room, for Dr. Hartwell was sometimes absent all day, and she longed
to escape his sister's icy espionage. When he was at home, and not
engaged in his study, his manner was always kind and considerate;
but she fancied he was colder and graver, and often his stern
abstraction kept her silent when they were together. Monday was the
birthday, and on Monday morning she expected to start to school.
Madam St. Cymon's was the fashionable institution of the city, and
thither, with Pauline, she was destined. Beulah rose early, dressed
herself carefully, and, after reading a chapter in her Bible, and
asking God's special guidance through the day, descended to the
breakfast room. Dr. Hartwell sat reading a newspaper; he did not
look up, and she quietly seated herself unobserved. Presently Mrs.
Chilton entered and walked up to her brother.
"Good-morning, Guy. Are there no tidings of that vessel yet? I hear
the Grahams are terribly anxious about it. Cornelia said her father
was unable to sleep."
"No news yet; but, May, be sure you do not let--"
"Was it the 'Morning Star'? Is he lost?"
Beulah stood crouching at his side, with her hands extended
pleadingly, and her white face convulsed.
"My child, do not look so wretched; the vessel that Eugene sailed in
was disabled in a storm, and has not yet reached the place of
destination. But there are numerous ways of accounting for the
detention, and you must hope and believe that all is well until you
know the contrary." He drew her to his side, and stroked her head
compassionately.