“No one seems to know anything definite about the affair; though I have often heard it commented upon and wondered over.”

“Clara, let it be buried henceforth.  Neither you nor I have any right to discuss and censure what neither of us know anything about.  Dr. Hartwell has been my best and truest friend.  I love and honor him; his faults are his own, and only his Maker has the right to balance his actions.  Once for all, let the subject drop.”  Beulah compressed her lips with an expression which her companion very well understood.  Soon after the latter withdrew, and, leaning her arms on the table near her, Beulah sank into a reverie which was far from pleasant.  Dismissing the unsatisfactory theme of her guardian’s idiosyncrasies, her thoughts immediately reverted to Eugene, and the revolution which five years had effected in his character.

In the afternoon of the following day she was engaged with her drawing, when a succession of quick raps at her door forced an impatient “Come in” from her lips.  The door opened, and she rose involuntarily as the queenly form of Cornelia Graham stood before her.  With a slow, stately tread she approached, and, extending her hand, said unconcernedly: 

“I have waived ceremony, you see, and come up to your room.”

“How are you?” said Beulah, as they shook hands and seated themselves.

“Just as usual.  How did you contrive to escape the plague?”

“By resolving not to have it, I believe.”

“You have a wan, sickly look, I think.”

“So have you, I am sure.  I hoped that you would come home strong and well.”  Beulah noted, with a feeling of compassion, the thin, hollow cheeks and sunken, yet burning, eyes before her.  Cornelia bit her lip, and asked haughtily: 

“Who told you that I was not well?”

“Your countenance would tell me, if I had never heard it from others,” replied Beulah, with an instantaneous recollection of her guardian’s warning.

“Did you receive my note yesterday?”

“Yes.  I am obliged by your invitation, but cannot accept it.”

“So I supposed, and therefore came to make sure of you.  You are too proud to come until all the family call upon you, eh?”

“No; only people who consider themselves inferior are on the watch for slights, and scrupulously exact the minutest requirements of etiquette.  On the plane of equality these barriers melt away.”

As Beulah spoke she looked steadily into the searching, black eyes, which seemed striving to read her soul.  An expression of pleasure lighted the sallow face, and the haughty lines about the beautiful mouth melted into a half-smile.

“Then you have not forgiven my rudeness during early schooldays?”

“I had nothing to forgive.  I had forgotten the affair until you spoke.”

“Then, why will you not come?”

“For reasons which would not be removed by a recapitulation.”