most tonics are bitter; so, bitter struggles develop and strengthen the soul, even as hard study invigorates the mind and numerous sorrows chasten the heart.  There is truth for the earnest seeker somewhere—­ somewhere!  If I live a thousand years I will toil after it till I find it.  If, as you believe, death is annihilation, then will I make the most of my soul while I have it.  Oh, sir, what is life for?  Merely to eat and drink, to sleep and be clothed?  Is it to be only a constant effort to keep soul and body together?  If I thought so I would rather go back to nothingness this day—­this hour!  No, no!  My name bids me press on; there is a land of Beulah somewhere for my troubled spirit.  Oh, I will go back to my humble home, and study on, unguided, unassisted even as I have begun.  I cannot rest on your rock of negation.”

She could not control her trembling voice, and tears of bitter disappointment fell over her pale, fixed features.  A melancholy smile parted Dr. Hartwell’s lips, and, smoothing the bands of rippling hair which lay on her white brow, he answered in his own thrilling, musical accents: 

“Child, you are wasting your energies in vain endeavors to build up walls of foam that—­”

“Sir, I am no longer a child!  I am a woman, and—­”

“Yes, my little Beulah, and your woman’s heart will not be satisfied long with these dim abstractions, which now you chase so eagerly.  Mark me, there surely comes a time when you will loathe the bare name of metaphysics.  You are making a very hotbed of your intellect, while you heart is daily becoming a dreary desert.  Take care, lest the starvation be so complete that eventually you will be unable to reclaim it.  Dialectics answer very well in collegiate halls, but will not content you.  Remember ‘Argemone.’”

“She is a miserable libel on woman’s nature and intellect.  I scorn the attempted parallel!” answered Beulah indignantly.

“Very well; mark me, though, your intellectual pride will yet wreck your happiness.”

He walked out of the greenhouse, whistling to Charon, who bounded after him.  Beulah saw from the slanting sunlight that the afternoon was far advanced, and feeling in no mood to listen to Pauline’s nonsense she found her bonnet and shawl, and repaired to the parlor to say good-by to the happy pair, who seemed unconscious of her long absence.  As she left the house the window of the study was thrown open, and Dr. Hartwell called out carelessly: 

“Wait, and let me order the carriage.”

“No, thank you.”

“I am going into town directly, and can take you home in the buggy.”

“I will not trouble you; I prefer walking.  Good-by.”