It was eleven o'clock, but Beulah was writing in her own room; and

through the open window heard the thundering tramp, the rattle among

the bricks, Proctor's furious curses, and surmised that some

accident had happened. She sprang to the window, saw the buggy just

as it was wheeled on, and hoped nothing was hurt. But Charon, who

slept on the portico, leaped over the paling, ran around the bricks,

and barked alarmingly. She unlocked the door, saw that no one was

passing, and, opening the little gate, looked out. Charon stood

watching a prostrate form, and she fearlessly crossed the street and

bent over the body. One arm was crushed beneath him; the other

thrown up over the face. She recognized the watch chain, which was

of a curious pattern; and, for an instant, all objects swam before

her. She felt faint; her heart seemed to grow icy and numb; but,

with a great effort, she moved the arm, and looked on the face

gleaming in the moonlight. Trembling like a weed in a wintry blast,

she knelt beside him. He was insensible, but not dead; though it was

evident there must have been some severe contusion about the head.

She saw that no time should be lost, and, running into one of the

neighboring houses, knocked violently. The noise of the horse and

buggy had already aroused the inmates, and very soon the motionless

form was borne into Beulah's little cottage and placed on a couch,

while a messenger was dispatched for Dr. Asbury. Eugene remained

just as they placed him; and, kneeling beside him, Beulah held his

cold hands in hers, and watched, in almost breathless anxiety, for

some return of animation. She knew that he was intoxicated; that

this, and this only, caused the accident; and tears of shame and

commiseration trickled down her cheeks. Since their parting

interview, previous to his marriage, they had met but once, and then

in silence, beside Cornelia in her dying hour. It was little more

than a year since she had risked his displeasure, and remonstrated

with him on his ruinous course; and that comparatively short period

had wrought painful changes in his once noble, handsome face. She

had hoped that Cornelia's dying prayer would save him; but now,

alas, it was too apparent that the appeal had been futile. She knew

not that his wife was absent, and determined to send for her as soon

as possible. The long hour of waiting seemed an eternity; but at

last Dr. Asbury came, and carefully examined the bruised limbs.

Beulah grasped his arm.

"Oh! will he die?"




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