“The Grahams are coming home soon, I hear.  One of the principal upholsterers boards here, and he mentioned this morning at breakfast that he had received a letter from Mr. Graham, directing him to attend to the unpacking of an entirely new set of furniture.  Everything will be on a grand scale.  I suppose Eugene returns with them?”

“Yes; they will all arrive in November.”

“It must be a delightful anticipation for you.”

“Why so, pray?”

“Why?  Because you and Euguene are such old friends.”

“Oh, yes; as far as Eugene is concerned, of course it is a very pleasant anticipation.”

“He is identified with the Grahams.”

“Not necessarily,” answered Beulah coldly.

A sad smile flitted over Clara’s sweet face as she rose and kissed her friend’s brow, saying gently: 

“Good-night, dear.  I have a headache, and must try to sleep it off.  Since you have determined to battle with difficulties I am very glad to have you here with me.  I earnestly hope that success may crown your efforts and the sunshine of happiness dispel for you the shadows that have fallen thick about my pathway.  You have been rash, Beulah, and short-sighted; but I trust that all will prove for the best.  Good-night.”

She glided away, and, locking the door, Beulah returned to her seat and laid her head wearily down on the window-sill.  What a Hermes is thought!  Like a vanishing dream fled the consciousness of surrounding objects, and she was with Eugene.  Now, in the earlier years of his absence, she was in Heidelberg, listening to the evening chimes, and rambling with him through the heart of the Odenwald.  Then they explored the Hartz, climbed the Brocken, and there, among the clouds, discussed the adventures of Faust and his kinsman, Manfred.  Anon, the arrival of the Grahams disturbed the quiet of Eugene’s life, and, far away from the picturesque haunts of Heidelberg students, he wandered with them over Italy, Switzerland, and France.  Engrossed by these companions, he no longer found time to commune with her, and when occasionally he penned a short letter it was hurried, constrained, and unsatisfactory.  One topic had become stereotyped; he never failed to discourage the idea of teaching; urged most earnestly the folly of such a step, and dwelt upon the numerous advantages of social position arising from a residence under her guardian’s roof.  We have seen that from the hour of Lilly’s departure from the asylum Beulah’s affections, hopes, pride, all centered in Eugene.  There had long existed a tacit compact which led her to consider her future indissolubly linked with his; and his parting words seemed to seal this compact as holy and binding, when he declared, “I mean, of course, to take care of you myself, when I come home, for you know you belong to me.”  His letters for many months retained the tone of dictatorship, but the tenderness seemed all to have melted away.