"One moment more. Does the doctor know of all this?"
"He knows that I intend to teach in the public school. He goes to
New York this afternoon."
Clara looked at her mournfully, and said, with sad emphasis: "Oh, Beulah! you may live to rue your rashness."
To Madam St. Cymon the proposal was singularly opportune, and,
hastening to meet the applicant, she expressed much pleasure at
seeing Miss Benton again. She was very anxious to procure a teacher
for the young ladies boarding with her, and for her own daughters,
and the limited engagement would suit very well. She desired,
however, to hear Miss Benton perform. Beulah took off her gloves and
played several very difficult pieces with the ease which only
constant practice and skillful training can confer. Madam declared
herself more than satisfied with her proficiency, and requested her
to commence her instructions on the following day. She had given the
former teacher six hundred dollars a year, and would allow Miss
Benton eighty dollars for the two months. Beulah was agreeably
surprised at the ample remuneration, and, having arranged the hours
of her attendance at the school, she took leave of the principal.
Clara called to her as she reached the street; and, assuming a
gayety which, just then, was very foreign to her real feelings,
Beulah answered: "It is all arranged. I shall take tea with you in my new home,
provided Mrs. Hoyt can give me a room." She kissed her hand and
hurried away. Mrs. Hoyt found no difficulty in providing a room;
and, to Beulah's great joy, managed to have a vacant one adjoining
Clara's. She was a gentle, warmhearted woman; and as Beulah examined
the apartment and inquired the terms, she hesitated, and said: "My terms are thirty dollars a month; but you are poor, I judge, and
being Miss Clara's friend I will only charge you twenty-five."
"I do not wish you to make any deduction in my favor. I will take
the room at thirty dollars," answered Beulah rather haughtily.
"Very well. When will you want it?"
"Immediately. Be kind enough to have it in readiness for me. I shall
come this afternoon. Could you give me some window curtains? I
should like it better, if you could do so without much
inconvenience."
"Oh, certainly! they were taken down yesterday to be washed.
Everything shall be in order for you."
It was too warm to walk home again, and Beulah called a carriage.
The driver had not proceeded far when a press of vehicles forced him
to pause a few minutes. They happened to stand near the post office,
and, as Beulah glanced at the eager crowd collected in front, she
started violently on perceiving her guardian. He stood on the
corner, talking to a gentleman of venerable aspect, and she saw that
he looked harassed. She was powerfully impelled to beckon him to
her, and at least obtain a friendly adieu; but again pride
prevailed. He had deliberately left her, without saying good-by, and
she would not force herself on his notice. Even as she dropped her
veil to avoid observation the carriage rolled on, and she was soon
at Dr. Hartwell's door. Unwilling to reflect on the steps she had
taken, she busied herself in packing her clothes and books. On every
side were tokens of her guardian's constant interest and
remembrance--pictures, vases, and all the elegant appendages of a
writing-desk. At length the last book was stowed avay and nothing
else remained to engage her. The beautiful little Nuremberg clock on
the mantel struck two, and, looking up, she saw the solemn face of
Harriet, who was standing in the door. Her steady, wondering gaze
disconcerted Beulah, despite her assumed indifference.