Ragged boys and barefooted girls tripped gayly along the streets, merry and uncomplaining; and, surrounded by velvet, silver, and marble, by every superfluity of luxury, Cornelia Graham, with a bitter heart and hopeless soul, shivered in her easy-chair before a glowing fire.  The Christmas sunlight crept in through the heavy crimson curtains and made gorgeous fret-work on the walls, but its cheering radiance mocked the sickly pallor of the invalid, and, as Beulah retreated to the window and peeped into the street, she felt an intense longing to get out under the blue sky once more.  Mr. and Mrs. Graham and Antoinette sat round the hearth, discussing the tableaux for the evening, while, with her cheek upon her hand, Cornelia listlessly fingered a diamond necklace which her father had just given her.  The blazing jewels slipped through her pale fingers all unnoticed, and she looked up abstractedly when Mr. Graham touched her, and repeated his question for the third time.

“My child, won’t you come down to the sitting room?”

“No, sir; I am better here.”

“But you will be so lonely.”

“Not with Beulah.”

“But, of course, Miss Benton will desire to see the tableaux.  You would not keep her from them?” remonstrated her father.

“Thank you, Mr. Graham, I prefer remaining with Cornelia,” answered Beulah, who had no wish to mingle in the crowd which, she understood from the conversation, would assemble that evening in the parlors.  The trio round the hearth looked at each other, and evidently thought she manifested very heathenish taste.  Cornelia smiled, and leaned back with an expression of pleasure which very rarely lighted her face.

“You are shockingly selfish and exacting,” said Antoinette, curling her long ringlets over her pretty fingers and looking very bewitching.  Her cousin eyed her in silence, and not particularly relishing her daughter’s keen look Mrs. Graham rose, kissed her forehead, and said gently: 

“My love, the Vincents, and Thorntons. and Hendersons all sent to inquire after you this morning.  Netta and I must go down now and prepare for our tableaux.  I leave you in good hands.  Miss Benton is considered an admirable nurse, I believe.”

“Mother, where is Eugene?”

“I really do not know.  Do you, Mr. Graham?”

“He has gone to the hotel to see some of his old Heidelberg friends,” answered Netta, examining Beulah’s plain merino dress very minutely as she spoke.

“When he comes home be good enough to tell him that I wish to see him.”

“Very well, my dear.”  Mrs. Graham left the room, followed by her husband and niece.

For some time Cornelia sat just as they left her; the diamond necklace slipped down and lay a glittering heap on the carpet, and the delicate waxen hands drooped listlessly over the arms of the chair.  Her profile was toward Beulah, who stood looking at the regular, beautiful features, and wondering how (with so many elements of happiness in her home) she could seem so discontented.  She was thinking, too, that there was a certain amount of truth in that persecuted and ignored dictum, “A man only sees that which he brings with him the power of seeing,” when Cornelia raised herself, and, turning her head to look for her companion, said slowly: