“Have you been sick since you were here last?”

“No.  What makes you imagine such a thing?”

“Dear child, I do not imagine; I know you look worn and ill.  Why, Beulah, hold up your hand; there, see how transparent it is!  Almost like wax!  Something ails you, child; that I know well enough.”

“No, I assure you, I am not ill.  Sometimes, of late, I have been troubled with the old headaches you used to cure when I was a child; but, on the whole, I am well.”

“Beulah, they tell me Eugene is married,” said the kind-hearted woman, with another look at the quiet face beside her.

“Yes; he was married nearly five months ago.”  A tremor passed over her lips as she spoke.

“Did you see his wife?”

“Yes; she is a very pretty woman.  I may say, a beautiful woman; but she does not suit him.  At least, I am afraid she will not.”

“Ah, I knew as much!  I thought as much!” cried Mrs. Williams.

“Why?” asked Beulah wonderingly.

“Oh, money cloaks all faults, child.  I knew he did not marry her for love!”

Beulah started a little, and said hastily: 

“You do him injustice—­great injustice!  Eugene was charmed by her beauty, not her fortune?”

“Oh, heiresses are always beautiful and charming in the eyes of the world!  Beulah, do you know that I watched for Eugene, for days, and weeks, and months after his return from Europe?  I wanted to see him--oh, so much!  I loved you both as though you were my own children.  I was so proud of that boy!  I had raised him from a crawling infant, and never dreamed that he would forget me.  But he did not come.  I have not seen him since he left, six years ago, for Germany.  Oh, the boy has pained me—­pained me!  I loved him so much!”

Beulah’s brow clouded heavily, as she said: 

“It is better so—­better that you should not see him.  He is not what he was when he quitted us.”

“Is it true, then, that he drinks—­that he is wild and dissipated?  I heard it once, but would not believe it.  Oh, it can’t be that Eugene drinks?”

“Yes, he drinks—­not to stupid intoxication, but too freely for his health and character.  He does not look like himself now.”

Mrs. Williams bowed down her head and wept bitterly, while Beulah continued sorrowfully: 

“His adoption was his ruin.  Had he remained dependent on his individual exertions he would have grown up an honor to himself and his friends.  But Mr. Graham is considered very wealthy, and Eugene weakly desisted from the honest labor which was his duty.  His fashionable associates have ruined him.  In Europe he learned to drink, and here his companions dragged him constantly into scenes of dissipation.  But I do not despair of him yet.  It may be long before he awakens from this infatuation; but I trust he will yet reform.  I cannot bear to think of him as a confirmed drunkard!  Oh, no! no!  I may be wrong, but I still hope that his nobler nature will conquer.”