Ah, is there not pain, and sorrow, and evil enough in this fallen world of ours, that meddling gossips must needs poison the few pure springs of enjoyment and peace?  Not the hatred of the Theban brothers could more thoroughly accomplish this fiendish design than the whisper of detraction, the sneer of malice, or the fatal innuendo of envious, low-bred tattlers.  Human life is shielded by the bulwark of legal provisions, and most earthly possessions are similarly protected; but there are assassins whom the judicial arm cannot reach, who infest society in countless hordes, and, while their work of ruin and misery goes ever on, there is for the unhappy victims no redress.  Thy holy precepts, O Christ! alone can antidote this universal evil.

Beulah calmed the storm that raged in her heart, and, as she took the flowers from her hair, said resolutely: 

“Before long I shall occupy a position where there will be nothing to envy, and then, possibly, I may escape the gossiping rack.  Eugene may think me a fool, if he likes; but support myself I will, if it costs me my life.  What difference should it make to him, so long as I prefer it?  One more year of study and I shall be qualified for any situation; then I can breathe freely.  May God shield me from all harm!”

CHAPTER XVI.

That year of study rolled swiftly away; another winter came and passed; another spring hung its verdant drapery over earth, and now ardent summer reigned once more.  It was near the noon of a starry July night that Beulah sat in her own room beside her writing-desk.  A manuscript lay before her, yet damp with ink, and as she traced the concluding words, and threw down her pen, a triumphant smile flashed over her face.  To-morrow the session of the public school would close, with an examination of its pupils; to-morrow she would graduate, and deliver the valedictory to the graduating class.  She had just finished copying her address, and, placing it carefully in the desk, rose and leaned against the window, that the cool night air might fan her fevered brow.  The hot blood beat heavily in her temples, and fled with arrowy swiftness through her veins.  Continued mental excitement, like another Shylock, peremptorily exacted its debt, and, as she looked out on the solemn beauty of the night, instead of soothing, it seemed to mock her restlessness.  Dr. Hartwell had been absent since noon, but now she detected the whir of wheels in the direction of the carriage house, and knew that he was in the study.  She heard him throw open the shutters and speak to Charon, and, gathering up her hair, which hung loosely about her shoulders, she confined it with a comb and glided noiselessly down the steps.  The lamplight gleamed through the open door, and, pausing on the threshold, she asked: 

“May I come in for a few minutes, or are you too much fatigued to talk?”

“Beulah, I positively forbade your sitting up this late.  It is midnight, child; go to bed.”  He held some papers, and spoke without even glancing toward her.