Her eyelids drooped, and a tremor passed over her mouth, as she

answered meekly: "I did not intend to be rude; but I dread to have people look at or

speak to me."

"Why, pray?"

"Because I am so ugly, and they are sure to show me that they see

it."

He drew his arm protectingly around her, and said gently: "Poor

child; it is cruel to make you suffer so. But rest assured Dr.

Hartwell will never wound your feelings. I have heard that he was a

very stern and eccentric man, though a remarkably learned one, yet I

confess there is something in his manner which fascinates me, and if

you will only be like yourself he will always speak kindly to you.

But I am staying too long. Don't look so forlorn and ghostly.

Positively I hate to come to see you, for somehow your wretched face

haunts me. Here is a book I have just finished; perhaps it will

serve to divert your mind." He put a copy of Irving's "Sketch Book"

in her hand, and drew on his gloves.

"Oh, Eugene, can't you stay a little longer--just a little longer?

It seems such a great while since you were here." She looked up

wistfully into the handsome, boyish face.

Drawing out an elegant new watch, he held it before her eyes, and

answered hurriedly: "See there; it is ten o'clock, and I am behind my appointment at the

lecture room. Good-by; try to be cheerful. 'What can't be cured must

be endured,' you know, so do not despond, dear Beulah." Shaking her

hand cordially, he ran down the steps. The orphan pressed her hands

tightly over her brow, as if to stay some sudden, painful thought,

and slowly remounted the stairs.




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