“Poor Charon!  I wish I might have him,” said she sadly.

“I dare say the doctor would give him to you,” answered Clara very simply.

“I would just as soon think of asking him for his own head,” replied Beulah.

“It is a mystery to me, Beulah, how you can feel so coldly toward Dr. Hartwell.”

“I should very much like to know what you mean by that?” said Beulah, involuntarily crushing the flowers she held.

“Why, you speak of him just as you would of anybody else.”

“Well?”

“You seem to be afraid of him.”

“To a certain extent, I am; and so is everybody else who knows him intimately.”

“This fear is unjust to him.”

“How so, pray?”

“Because he is too noble to do aught to inspire it.”

“Certainly he is feared, nevertheless, by all who know him well.”

“It seems to me that, situated as you have been, you would almost worship him!”

“I am not addicted to worshiping anything but God!” answered Beulah shortly.

“You are an odd compound, Beulah.  Sometimes I think you must be utterly heartless!”

“Thank you!”

“Don’t be hurt.  But you are so cold, so freezing; you chill me.”

“Do I?  Dr. Hartwell (your Delphic oracle, it seems) says I am as fierce as a tropical tornado.”

“I do not understand how you can bear to give up such an enchanting home, and go to hard work, as if you were driven to it from necessity.”

“Do not go over all that beaten track again, if you please.  It is not my home!  I can be just as happy, nay, happier, in my little room.”

“I doubt it,” said Clara pertinaciously.

Stopping suddenly, and fixing her eyes steadily on her companion, Beulah hastily asked: 

“Clara Sanders, why should you care if my guardian and I are separated?”

A burning blush dyed cheek and brow, as Clara drooped her head, and answered: 

“Because he is my friend also, and I know that your departure will grieve him.”

“You overestimate my worth and his interest.  He is a man who lives in a world of his own and needs no society, save such as is afforded in his tasteful and elegant home.  He loves books, flowers, music, paintings, and his dog!  He is a stern man, and shares his griefs and joys with no one.  All this I have told you before.”

There was a long silence, broken at last by an exclamation from Beulah: 

“Oh! how beautiful! how silent! how solemn!  Look down the long dim aisles.  It is an oratory where my soul comes to worship!  Presently the breeze will rush up from the gulf, and sweep the green organ, and a melancholy chant will swell through these dusky arches.  Oh, what are Gothic cathedrals and gilded shrines in comparison with these grand forest temples, where the dome is the bending vault of God’s blue, and the columns are these everlasting pines!” She pointed to a thick clump of pines sloping down to a ravine.