Their congratulations wearied her, and she was glad when the
carriage came to bear her away. Bidding adieu to her friends, she
was handed into the carriage, and Dr. Hartwell took the seat beside
her. The ride was short; neither spoke, and when the door was
opened, and she entered the well-remembered house, she would gladly
have retreated to the greenhouse and sought solitude to collect her
thoughts; but a hand caught hers, and she soon found herself seated
on a sofa in the study. She felt that a pair of eyes were riveted on
her face, and suddenly the blood surged into her white cheeks. Her
hand lay clasped in his, and her head drooped lower, to avoid his
searching gaze.
"Oh, Beulah! my wife! why are you afraid of me?"
The low, musical tones caused her heart to thrill strangely; she
made a great effort, and lifted her head. She saw the expression of
sorrow that clouded his face; saw his white brow wrinkle; and, as
her eyes fell on the silver threads scattered through his brown
hair, there came an instant revolution of feeling. Fear vanished;
love reigned supreme. She threw her arms up about his neck, and
exclaimed: "I am not afraid of you now. May God bless my guardian! my husband!"
Reader, marriage is not the end of life; it is but the beginning of
a new course of duties; but I cannot now follow Beulah. Henceforth
her history is bound up with another's. To save her husband from his
unbelief is the labor of future years. She had learned to suffer and
to bear patiently; and though her path looks sunny, and her heart
throbs with happy hopes, this one shadow lurks over her home and
dims her joys. Weeks and months glided swiftly on. Dr. Hartwell's
face lost its stern rigidity, and his smile became constantly
genial. His wife was his idol; day by day his love for her seemed
more completely to revolutionize his nature. His cynicism melted
insensibly away; his lips forgot their iron compression; now and
then, his long-forgotten laugh rang through the house. Beulah was
conscious of the power she wielded, and trembled lest she failed to
employ it properly. One Sabbath afternoon she sat in her room, with
her cheek on her hand, absorbed in earnest thought. Her little Bible
lay on her lap, and she was pondering the text she had heard that
morning. Charon came and nestled his huge head against her.
Presently she heard the quick tramp of hoofs and whir of wheels; and
soon after her husband entered and sat down beside her.