“Then accept its fabrications.”

“You need not be so fierce.  I like Dr. Hartwell quite as well as you do, I dare say; but probably I know more of his history.”

“It is all immaterial to me.  Drop the subject, if you please, and let me read to you.  I believe I came here for quiet companionship, not recrimination and cross-questioning.”

“Beulah, the world says you are to marry your guardian.  I do not ask from impertinent curiosity, but sincere friendship—­is it true?”

“About as true as your notion of my marriage with Eugene.  No; scarcely so plausible.”

“Our families were connected, you know.”

“No; I neither know, nor wish to know.  He never alluded to his wife, or his history, and I have just now no desire to hear anything about the matter.  He is the best friend I ever had; I want to honor and reverence him always; and, of course, the world’s version of his domestic affairs does him injustice.  So be good enough to say no more about him.”

“Very well.  On hearing your voice from the parlor he left a small parcel, which he requested me to give you.  He laid it on the table, I believe; yes, there it is.  Now read ‘Egmont’ to me, if you please.”

Cornelia crossed the room, threw herself on a couch, and settled her pillow comfortably.  Beulah took the parcel, which was carefully sealed, and wondered what it contained.  It was heavy and felt hard.  They had parted in anger; what could it possibly be?  Cornelia’s black eyes were on her countenance.  She put the package in her pocket, seated herself by the couch, and commenced “Egmont.”  It was with a feeling of indescribable relief that the orphan awoke, at dawn the following morning, and dressed by the gray twilight.  She had fallen asleep the night before amid the hum of voices, of laughter, and of dancing feet.  Sounds of gayety, from the merry party below, had found their way to the chamber of the heiress, and when Beulah left her at midnight she was still wakeful and restless.  The young teacher could not wait for the late breakfast of the luxurious Grahams, and, just as the first level ray of sunshine flashed up from the east, she tied on her bonnet and noiselessly entered Cornelia’s room.  The heavy curtains kept it close and dark, and on the hearth a taper burned with pale, sickly light.  Cornelia slept soundly; but her breathing was heavy and irregular, and the face wore a scowl, as if some severe pain had distorted it.  The ivory-like arms were thrown up over the head, and large drops glistened on the wan brow.  Beulah stood beside the bed a few minutes; the apartment was furnished with almost Oriental splendor; but how all this satin, and rosewood, and silver, and marble mocked the restless, suffering sleeper!  Beulah felt tears of compassion weighing down her lashes, as she watched the haggard countenance of this petted child of fortune; but, unwilling to rouse her, she silently stole down the