"I was about to remind you of your engagement. But, Guy, whom have

you there?"

"My protegee I told you of. Beulah, this is Mr. Lockhart."

The rider reined his horse near her side, and, leaning forward as he

raised his hat, their eyes met. Both started visibly, and, extending

his hand, Mr. Lockhart said eagerly: "Ah, my little forest friend! I am truly glad to find you again."

She shook hands very quietly, but an expression of pleasure stole

over her face. Her guardian observed it, and asked: "Pray, Percy, what do you know of her?"

"That she sings very charmingly," answered his friend, smiling at

Beulah.

"He saw me once when I was at the asylum," said she, "And was singing part of the regime there?"

"No, Guy. She was wandering about the piney woods, near the asylum,

with two beautiful elves, when I chanced to meet her. She was

singing at the time. Beulah, I am glad to find you out again; and in

future, when I pay the doctor long visits, I shall expect you to

appear for my entertainment. Look to it, Guy, that she is present.

But I am fatigued with my unusual exercise, and must return home.

Good-by, Beulah; shake hands. I am going immediately to my room,

Guy; so come as soon as you can." He rode slowly on, while Dr.

Hartwell shook the reins, and Mazeppa sprang down the road again.

Beulah had remarked a great alteration in Mr. Lockhart's appearance;

he was much paler, and bore traces of recent and severe illness. His

genial manner and friendly words had interested her, and, looking up

at her guardian, she said timidly: "Is he ill, sir?"

"He has been, and is yet quite feeble. Do you like him?"

"I know nothing of him, except that he spoke to me one evening some

months ago. Does he live here, sir?"

"No; he has a plantation on the river, but is here on a visit

occasionally. Much of his life has been spent in Europe, and thither

he goes again very soon."

The sun had set. The bay seemed a vast sheet of fire, as the crimson

clouds cast their shifting shadows on its bosom; and, forgetting

everything else, Beulah leaned out of the buggy, and said almost

unconsciously: "How beautiful! how very beautiful!" Her lips were parted; her eyes

clear and sparkling with delight. Dr. Hartwell sighed, and, turning

from the bay road, approached his home. Beulah longed to speak to

him of what was pressing on her heart; but, glancing at his

countenance to see whether it was an auspicious time, she was

deterred by the somber sternness which overshadowed it, and before

she could summon courage to speak, they stopped at the front gate.




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