He passed his hand over his brow, and swept back the glossy chestnut

hair, as if it oppressed him.

"I would willingly take it, sir, if I could; but the summer vacation

is still distant, and, besides, my engagements oblige me to exert

myself. It is a necessity with me."

"Rather say sheer obstinacy," said he sternly.

"You are severe, sir," replied Beulah, lifting her head haughtily.

"No; I only call things by their proper names."

"Very well; if you prefer it, then, obstinacy compels me just now to

deny myself the rest you prescribe."

"Yes; rightly spoken; and it will soon compel you to a long rest, in

the quiet place where Cornelia waits for you. You are a mere shadow

now, and a few more months will complete your design. I have blamed

myself more than once that I did not suffer you to die with Lilly,

as you certainly would have done had I not tended you so closely.

Your death then would have saved me much care and sorrow, and you

many struggles."

There was a shadow on his face, and his voice had the deep, musical

tone which always made her heart thrill. Her eyelids drooped, as she

said sadly: "You are unjust. We meet rarely enough, Heaven knows. Why do you

invariably make these occasions seasons of upbraiding, of taunts and

sneers. Sir, I owe you my life, and more than my life, and never can

I forget or cancel my obligations; but are you no longer my friend?"

His whole face lighted up; the firm mouth trembled.

"No, Beulah. I am no longer your friend."

She looked up at him, and a quiver crept across her lips. She had

never seen that eager expression in his stern face before. His dark,

fascinating eyes were full of pleading tenderness, and, as she

drooped her head on her lap, she knew that Clara was right, that she

was dearer to her guardian than anyone else. A half-smothered groan

escaped her, and there was a short pause.

Dr. Hartwell put his hands gently on her bowed head and lifted the

face.

"Child, does it surprise you?"

She said nothing, and, leaning her head against him, as she had

often done years before, he passed his hand caressingly over the

folds of hair, and added: "You call me your guardian; make me such. I can no longer be only

your friend; I must either be more, or henceforth a stranger. My

life has been full of sorrow and bitterness, but you can bring

sunlight to my home and heart. You were too proud to be adopted.

Once I asked you to be my child. Ah! I did not know my own heart

then. Our separation during the yellow-fever season first taught me

how inexpressibly dear you were to me, how entirely you filled my

heart. Now I ask you to be my wife, to give yourself to me. Oh,

Beulah, come back to my cheerless home! Best your lonely heart, my

proud darling."




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