Beulah leaned forward and dropped the letter into the glowing mass of coals.  It shriveled, blazed, and vanished, and, with a heavy sigh, she sat pondering the painful contents.  What advice could she possibly give that would remedy the trouble?  She was aware that the young wife must indeed have been “very wretched” before she could consent to disclose her domestic feuds to another.  Under happier auspices she felt that Pauline would have made a devoted, gentle wife, but feared it was now too late to mold her character in conformity with her husband’s wishes.  “So much for a union of uncongenial natures,” thought Beulah, as she prepared to answer the unlucky letter.  As guardedly as possible she alluded to Mr. Mortimor and his family, and urged Pauline to talk to her husband gently but firmly, and assure him that the continued interference of his family was unendurable.  If her remonstrances proved futile, to do what she considered due to herself as mistress of her own establishment, and try not to notice the annoyances of others.  Beulah felt and acknowledged her inability to advise the young wife in the difficult position in which she was placed, and closed by assuring her that only her own good sense, guided by sincere love for her husband, could rightly direct her course.  She was warmly attached to Pauline, and it was with a troubled heart that she addressed her reply.

CHAPTER XXIX.

The Grahams were all at home again, and Eugene and his bride had been for several weeks fairly settled in their elegant new house.  Beulah had seen none of the family since their return, for her time was nearly all occupied, and as soon as released from school she gladly hurried out to her little home.  One evening as she left the academy Mr. Graham’s spirited horses dashed up to the gate, and the coachman handed her a note.  It was from Mrs. Graham.

“Miss Benton: 

“Cornelia is quite indisposed, and begs that you will call and see her this afternoon.  As it threatens rain, I send the carriage.

“S.  Graham.”

Beulah crumpled the note between her fingers, and hesitated.  The coachman perceived her irresolution, and hastened to say: 

“You needn’t be afraid of the horses, miss.  Miss Nett’ rides so much they are tamed down.”

“I am not at all afraid of the horses.  Has Cornelia been sick since her return from the North?”

“Why, miss, she came home worse than ever.  She has not been downstairs since.  She is sick all the time now.”

Beulah hesitated no longer.  Mrs. Graham met her at the door, and greeted her more cordially than she had done on any previous occasion.  She looked anxious and weary, and said, as she led the way to her daughter’s apartment: 

“We are quite uneasy about Cornelia; you will find her sadly altered.”  She ushered Beulah into the room, then immediately withdrew.