"She is proud, and will not receive it willingly; but you must

arrange it so that she will be benefited by it. Father, can you do

this for me?"

"Yes, without difficulty, I think."

"Let it be kept secret, will you?"

"Rest assured it shall have no unnecessary publicity."

"See that it is conveyed to her so securely that no quibbles of law

can wrest it from her at any future day, for none of us knows what

may happen."

"I promise you she shall have it if I live twelve hours longer."

"Then I want five thousand more given to the orphan asylum. Give it

in your own name. You only have the right to give. Don't have my

name mentioned in the matter. Will you promise me this also?"

"Yes; it shall all be done. Is there anything else?"

"Thank you, that is all, as regards money matters. Raise my pillow a

little; there, that will do. Father, can't you do something to save

Eugene? You must see now how reckless he is growing."

"Recently I have expostulated with him, and he seemed disposed to

reform his habits. Acknowledged that his associations had been

injurious, and regretted the excesses into which he had been led. He

has been rather wild since he came from college; but I think, now he

is married, he will sober down. That is one reason why I encouraged

his marrying so early. Intemperance is his only fault, and I trust

his good sense will soon lead him to correct it." A smothered sigh

concluded the sentence.

"Father, Antoinette is not the woman to reform him. Don't trust to

her influence; if you do, Eugene will be ruined. Watch over him

closely yourself; try to win him away from the haunts of

dissipation; I tell you now his wife will never do it. She has duped

you and my mother as to her character, but you will find that she is

as utterly heartless as her own mother was. I always opposed the

match, because I probed her mask of dissimulation, and knew Eugene

could not be happy with her. But the mistake is irretrievable, and

it only remains for you to watch him the more carefully. Lift me,

father; I can't breathe easily. There is the doctor on the steps; I am

too tired to talk any more to-day."

One week later, as Beulah was spending her Sabbath evening in her

own apartment, she was summoned to see her friend for the last time.

It was twilight when she reached Mr. Graham's house and glided

noiselessly up the thickly carpeted stairway. The bells were all

muffled, and a solemn stillness reigned over the mansion. She left

her bonnet and shawl in the hall, and softly entered the chamber

unannounced. Unable to breathe in a horizontal position, Cornelia

was bolstered up in her easychair. Her mother sat near her, with her

face hid on her husband's bosom. Dr. Hartwell leaned against the

mantel, and Eugene stood on the hearth opposite him, with his head

bowed down on his hands. Cornelia drew her breath in quick gasps,

and cold drops glistened on her pallid face. Her sunken eyes

wandered over the group, and when Beulah drew near she extended her

hands eagerly, while a shadowy smile passed swiftly over her

sharpened features.




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