Eugene’s appearance.  Before long she saw him cross the room with Antoinette on his arm.  The quadrille had ended, and as, at the request of one of the guests, the band played a brilliant mazourka, numerous couples took their places on the floor.  Beulah had never seen the mazourka danced in public; she knew that neither Helen nor Georgia ever danced the so-called “fancy dances,” and was not a little surprised when the gentlemen encircled the waists of their partners and whirled away.  Her eyes followed Eugene’s tall form, as the circuit of the parlors was rapidly made, and he approached the corner where she sat.  He held his lovely partner close to his heart, and her head drooped very contentedly on his shoulder.  He was talking to her as they danced, and his lips nearly touched her glowing cheek.  On they came, so close to Beulah that Antoinette’s gauzy dress floated against her, and, as the music quickened, faster flew the dancers.  Beulah looked on with a sensation of disgust which might have been easily read in her countenance; verily she blushed for her degraded sex, and, sick of the scene, left the window and retreated to the library, where the more sedate portion of the guests were discussing various topics.  Here were Mr. and Mrs. Grayson; Claudia was North, at school.  Beulah found a seat near Mrs. Asbury, and endeavored to banish the painful recollections which Mrs. Grayson’s face recalled.  They had not met since the memorable day when the orphan first found a guardian, and she felt that there was still an unconquerable aversion in her heart which caused it to throb heavily.  She thought the time tediously long, and when at last the signal for supper was given, felt relieved.  As usual, there was rushing and squeezing into the supper room, and, waiting until the hall was comparatively deserted, she ran up to the dressing room for her shawl, tired of the crowd and anxious to get home again.  She remembered that she had dropped her fan behind one of the sofas in the parlor, and, as all were at supper, fancied she could obtain it unobserved, and entered the room for that purpose.  A gentleman stood by the fire; but, without noticing him, she pushed the sofa aside, secured her fan, and was turning away when a well-known voice startled her.

“Beulah, where are you going?”

“Home, sir.”

“What! so soon tired?”

“Yes; heartily tired,” said she, wrapping her shawl about her.

“Have you spoken to Eugene to-night?”

“No.”

Her guardian looked at her very intently, as if striving to read her soul, and said slowly: 

“Child, he and Antoinette are sitting in the front parlor.  I happened to overhear a remark as I passed them.  He is an accepted lover; they are engaged.”

A quick shiver ran over Beulah’s frame, and a dark frown furrowed her pale brow, as she answered: 

“I feared as much.”

“Why should you fear, child?  She is a beautiful heiress, and he loves her,” returned Dr. Hartwell, without taking his eyes from her face.