"Remember, Beulah, she is an only child, and her father's idol, and
perhaps--"
"The very blessings that surround her should teach her to feel for
the unfortunate and unprotected," interrupted the orphan.
"You will find that prosperity rarely has such an effect upon the
heart of its favorite," answered Clara musingly.
"An unnecessary piece of information. I discovered that pleasant
truth some time since," said Beulah bitterly.
"I don't know, Beulah; you are an instance to the contrary. Do not
call yourself unfortunate, so long as Dr. Hartwell is your friend.
Ah! you little dream how blessed you are."
Her voice took the deep tone of intense feeling, and a faint glow
tinged her cheek.
"Yes, he is very kind, very good," replied the other, more gently.
"Kind! good! Is that all you can say of him?" The soft brown eyes
kindled with unwonted enthusiasm.
"What more can I say of him than that he is good?" returned the
orphan eagerly, while the conversation in the study, the preceding
day, rushed to her recollection.
Clara looked at her earnestly for a moment, and then averting her
head, answered evasively: "Pardon me; I have no right to dictate the terms in which you should
mention your benefactor." Beulah's intuitions were remarkably quick,
and she asked slowly: "Do you know him well?"
"Yes; oh, yes! very well indeed. Why do you ask?"
"And you like him very much?"
"Very much."
She saw the gentle face now, and saw that some sorrow had called
tears to the eyes, and sent the blood coldly back to her heart.
"No one can like him as I do. You don't know how very kind he has
been to me--me, the miserable, lonely orphan," murmured Beulah, as
his smile and tones recurred to her.
"Yes, I can imagine, because I know his noble heart; and, therefore,
child, I say you cannot realize how privileged you are."
The discussion was cut short by a call to recitation, and too calmly
happy in the knowledge of Eugene's safety to ponder her companion's
manner, Beulah sank into a reverie, in which Eugene, and Heidelberg,
and long letters mingled pleasingly. Later in the day, as she and
Pauline were descending the steps, the door of the primary
department of the school opened, and a little girl, clad in deep
black, started up the same flight of steps. Seeing the two above,
she leaned against the wall, waiting for them to pass. Beulah stood
still, and the sachel she carried fell unheeded from her hand, while
a thrilling cry broke from the little girl's lips; and, springing up
the steps, she threw herself into Beulah's arms.