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Updated: June 24, 2025
"Fold that coat for me, my dear; there, give it to me; I believe there is room in this trunk for it." Mrs. Asbury took one of her husband's coats from Beulah's hand and carefully packed it away. "How long will you be absent, do you suppose?" "Probably not longer than a month. The doctor thinks a few days at Saratoga will invigorate him.
Oh, my child, you have been my greatest pride, but now you are a grief to me!" She took Beulah's hand in hers, and pressed her lips to it, while the tears fell thick and fast. The orphan was not unmoved; her lashes were heavy with unshed drops, but she said nothing.
Then he continued musingly, "You'll find Gertrude different. I can't quite imagine her presiding over your moral welfare but I think she'll be good at it. She's a good deal of a person, you know." "Aunt Beulah's a good kind of person, too," Eleanor said; "she tries hard. The only thing is that she keeps trying to make me express myself, and I don't know what that means."
Years had passed since the only child had been laid here; yet the hour of release was as fresh in Beulah's memory as though she had seen the convulsed features but yesterday; and the words repeated that night seemed now to issue from the marble lips of the statues beside her: "For here we have no continuing city, but seek one to come."
How her readers would have marveled at the sight! Ah, "Verily the heart knoweth its own bitterness." One afternoon in the following week Mrs. Williams sat wrapped up in the hall, watching Beulah's movements in the yard at the rear of the house. The whitewashed paling was covered with luxuriant raspberry vines, and in one corner of the garden was a bed of strawberry plants.
Beulah's nature was generous; she was glad to forget old injuries, and, as their hands met in a friendly clasp, she answered: "You have changed but little." "And that for the worse, as people have a pleasant way of telling me. Beulah, I want to know honestly if my rudeness caused you to leave madam's school?" "That was not my only reason," replied Beulah very candidly.
By his side stood Charon, looking gravely on, as if he, wise soul, thought this familiarity signally impudent. It was a singularly quiet, peaceful scene, which indelibly daguerreotyped itself on Beulah's memory. As the carriage whirled round the circle, and drew up at the door, the startled flock wheeled off; and, brushing the grain from his hands, Dr. Hartwell advanced to assist his sister.
My kit would be like that of the commander-in- chief, were I to take away all that these dear relatives design for me. What's this? a purse! a handsome silken purse, too, with Beulah's name on it. Has Maud nothing, here? Why has Maud forgotten me! Ruffles, handkerchiefs, garters yes, here is a pair of my good mother's own knitting, but nothing of Maud's Ha! what have we here?
On the fifth week of Eleanor's stay Beulah became a real aunt, the cook left, and her own aunt and official chaperon, little Miss Prentis, was laid low with an attack of inflammatory rheumatism. Beulah's excitement on these various counts, combined with indiscretions in the matter of overshoes and overfatigue, made her an easy victim to a wandering grip germ.
A quick shiver ran over Beulah's frame, and a dark frown furrowed her pale brow, as she answered: "I feared as much." "Why should you fear, child? She is a beautiful heiress, and he loves her," returned Dr. Hartwell, without taking his eyes from her face. "No; he thinks he loves her, but it is not so.
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