“I have no destiny but that of loneliness and misery.”

“Our situations are similar, yet I never repine as you do.”

“You have not the same cause.  You are self-reliant; need no society to conduce to your happiness; your heart is bound up in your books.”

“Where yours had better have been,” answered Beulah.  She walked across the floor several times, then said impressively, as she threw her arm round Clara’s waist: 

“Crush it; crush it; if you crush your heart in the effort.”

A moan escaped Clara’s lips, and she hid her face against her friend’s shoulder.

“I have known it since the night of your grandfather’s death.  If you want to be happy and useful, crush it out of your heart.”

“I have tried, and cannot.”

“Oh, but you can!  I tell you there is nothing a woman cannot do, provided she puts on the armor of duty and unsheathes the sword of a strong, unbending will.  Of course, you can do it, if you will.”

“Wait till you feel as I do, Beulah, and it will not seem so light a task.”

“That will never happen.  If I live till the next geological period I never shall love anybody as insanely as you love.  Why, Clara, don’t you see that you are wrecking your happiness?  What strange infatuation has seized you?”

“I know now that it is perfectly hopeless,” said Clara calmly.

“You might have known it from the first.”

“No; it is but recently that the barrier has risen.”

“What barrier?” asked Beulah curiously.

“For Heaven’s sake, Beulah, do not mock me!  You know too well what separates us.”

“Yes; utter uncongeniality.”

Clara raised her head, looked into the honest face before her, and answered: 

“If that were all, I could yet hope to merit his love; but you know that is not so.  You must know that he has no love to bestow.”

Beulah’s face seemed instantly steeled.  A grayish hue crept over it; and, drawing her slender form to its full height, she replied, with haughty coldness: 

“What do you mean?  I can only conjecture.”

“Beulah, you know he loves you!” cried Clara, with a strangely quiet smile.

“Clara Sanders, never say that again as long as you live; for there is not the shadow of truth in it.”

“Ah, I would not believe it till it was forced upon me.  The heart bars itself a long time to painful truths!  I have looked at you, and wondered whether you could be ignorant of what I saw so clearly.  I believe you are honest in what you say.  I know that you are; but it is nevertheless true.  I saw it the evening I went to ride.  He loves you, whether you see it or not.  And, moreover, the world has begun to join your names.  I have heard, more than once, that he educated you with the intention of marrying you; and recently it has been rumored that the marriage would take place very soon.  Do not be hurt with me, Beulah!  I think it is right that you should know all this.”