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Updated: May 24, 2025
Don't leave me, Clara," murmured Beulah, while her lips writhed and quivered. "You will have the Asburys still, and they are sincere friends." "Yes, friends, but not companions. What congeniality is there between those girls and myself? None. My isolation will be complete when you leave me." "Beulah, will you let me say what is in my heart?" "Say it freely, my brown-eyed darling."
Could the heart demolish the idol it had once enshrined, and set up another image for worship? Was Time the conquering iconoclast? Why, then, did she suffer more acutely as each year rolled on? She had little leisure, however, for these reflections; the Asburys had returned, and the cottage had been rented by a family who were anxious to take possession immediately.
To the Asburys Beulah was warmly attached, and her residence with them was as pleasant as any home could possibly have been which was not her own. They were all that friends could be to an orphan; still, she regretted her little cottage, and missed the home-feeling she had prized so highly.
Eugene, you were a poor correspondent; see that you prove a better visitor." "Yes, I will. I have a thousand things to say, but scarcely know where to commence. You are always at home in the evenings, I suppose?" "Yes: except occasionally when I am with the Asburys." "Do you see much of them?" "Yes; a good deal." "I am glad to hear it; they move in the very first circle.
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