“Do you know that the yellow fever has broke out here?”

“Oh, you are mistaken!  It can’t be possible!” cried Clara, turning pale.

“I tell you, it is a fact.  There are six cases now at the hospital; Hal was there this morning.  I have lived here a good many years, and, from the signs, I think we are going to have dreadfully sickly times.  You young ladies had better keep out of the sun; first thing you know, you will have it.”

“Who told you there was yellow fever at the hospital?”

“Dr. Asbury said so; and, what is more, Hal has had it himself, and nursed people who had it; and he says it is the worst sort of yellow fever.”

“I am not afraid of it,” said Beulah, looking up for the first time.

“I am dreadfully afraid of it,” answered Clara, with a nervous shudder.

“Then you had better leave town as quick as possible, for folks who are easily scared always catch it soonest.”

“Nonsense!” cried Beulah, noting the deepening pallor of Clara’s face.

“Oh, I will warrant, if everybody else—­every man, woman, and child in the city—­takes it, you won’t!  Miss Beulah, I should like to know what you are afraid of!” muttered Harriet, scanning the orphan’s countenance, and adding, in a louder tone:  “Have you heard anything from master?”

“No.”  Beulah bit her lips to conceal her emotion.

“Hal hears from him.  He was in New York when he wrote the last letter.”  She took a malicious pleasure in thus torturing her visitor; and, determined not to gratify her by any manifestation of interest or curiosity, Beulah took up a couple of volumes and turned to the door, saying: 

“Come, Clara, you must each have a bouquet.  Harriet, where are the flower scissors?  Dr. Hartwell never objected to my carefully cutting even his choicest flowers.  There!  Clara, listen to the cool rippling of the fountain.  How I have longed to hear its silvery murmur once more!”

They went out into the front yard.  Clara wandered about the flower beds, gathering blossoms which were scattered in lavish profusion on all sides; and, leaning over the marble basin, Beulah bathed her brow in the crystal waters.  There were bewitching beauty and serenity in the scene before her, and as Charon nestled his great head against her hand she found it very difficult to realize the fact that she had left this lovely retreat for the small room at Mrs. Hoyt’s boarding house.  It was not her habit, however, to indulge in repinings, and, though her ardent appreciation of beauty rendered the place incalculably dear to her, she resolutely gathered a cluster of flowers, bade adieu to Harriet, and descended the avenue.  Charon walked soberly beside her, now and then looking up, as if to inquire the meaning of her long absence and wonder at her sudden departure.  At the gate she patted him affectionately on the head and passed out; he made no attempt to follow her, but barked violently, and then lay down at the gate, whining mournfully.