“Beulah, I see from your face that you have not shed a single tear.  I wish you would not keep your sorrow so pent up in your heart.  It grieves me to see you look as you do now.”

“Oh, I can’t help it!  If it were not for you I believe I should die, I am so very miserable.  Eugene, if you could have seen our Lilly cling to me, even to the last moment.  It seems to me my heart will break.”  She sank her weary head on his shoulder.

“Yes, darling, I know you are suffering very much; but remember that ‘all things work together for good to them that love God.’  Perhaps he sees it is best that you should give her up for a while, and if so, will you not try to bear it cheerfully, instead of making yourself sick with useless grief?” He gently smoothed the hair from her brow as he spoke.  She did not reply.  He did not expect that she would, and continued in the same kind tone: 

“I am much more troubled about your taking this situation.  If I had known it earlier I would have endeavored to prevent it; but I suppose it cannot be helped now, for a while at least.”

“As soon as possible I am determined you shall go to school; and remember, dear Beulah, I am just as much grieved at your sorrows as you are.  In a few years I shall have a home of my own, and you shall be the first to come to it.  Never mind these dark, stormy days.  Do you remember what our minister said in his sermon last Sunday?  ’The darkest hour is just before daybreak.’  Already I begin to see the ‘silver lining’ of clouds that a few years, or even months ago, seemed heavy and cheerless.  I have heard a great deal about the ills and trials of this world, but I think a brave, hopeful spirit will do much toward remedying the evil.  For my part, I look forward to the time when you and I shall have a home of our own, and then Lilly and Claudy can be with us.  I was talking to Mrs. Mason about it yesterday; she loves you very much.  I dare say all will be right; so cheer up, Beulah, and do look on the bright side.”

“Eugene, you are the only bright side I have to look on.  Sometimes I think you will get tired of me, and if you ever do I shall want to die.  Oh, how could I bear to know you did not love me!” She raised her head and looked earnestly at his noble face.

Eugene laughingly repeated her words.

“Get tired of you, indeed—­not I, little sister.”

“Oh, I forgot to thank you for your book.  I like it better than anything I ever read.  Some parts are so beautiful—­so very grand.  I keep it in my basket, and read every moment I can spare.”

“I knew you would like it, particularly ‘Excelsior.’  Beulah, I have written ‘excelsior’ on my banner, and I intend, like that noble youth, to press forward over every obstacle, mounting at every step, until I, too, stand on the highest pinnacle, and plant my banner where its glorious motto shall float over the world.  That poem stirs my very soul like martial music, and I feel as if I should like to see Mr. Longfellow, to tell him how I thank him for having written it.  I want you to mark the passages you like best; and, now I think of it, here is a pencil I cut for you to-day.”