“Beulah, I have seen sunlit bubbles gliding swiftly on the bosom of a clear brook and casting golden shadows down upon the pebbly bed.  Such a shadow you are now chasing—­ah, child, the shadow of a gilded bubble!  Panting and eager, you clutch at it; the bubble dances on, the shadow with it; and Beulah, you will never, never grasp it.  Ambition such as yours, which aims at literary fame, is the deadliest foe to happiness.  Man may content himself with the applause of the world and the homage paid to his intellect; but woman’s heart has holier idols.  You cue young, and impulsive, and aspiring, and Fame beckons you on, like the siren of antiquity; but the months and years will surely come when, with wasted energies and embittered heart, you are left to mourn your infatuation.  I would save you from this; but you will drain the very dregs rather than forsake your tempting fiend, for such is ambition to the female heart.  Yes, you will spend the springtime of your life chasing a painted specter, and go down to a premature grave, disappointed and miserable.  Poor child, it needs no prophetic vision to predict your ill-starred career!  Already the consuming fever has begun its march.  In far-distant lands, I shall have no tidings of you; but none will be needed.  Perhaps when I travel home to die your feverish dream will have ended; or, perchance, sinking to eternal rest in some palm grove of the far East, we shall meet no more.  Since the day I took you in my arms from Lilly’s coffin you have been my only hope, my all.  You little knew how precious you were to me, nor what keen suffering our estrangement cost me.  Oh, child, I have loved you as only a strong, suffering, passionate heart could love its last idol!  But I, too, chased a shadow.  Experience should have taught me wisdom.  Now I am a gloomy, joyless man, weary of my home and henceforth a wanderer.  Asbury (if he lives) will be truly your friend, and to him T shall commit the legacy which hitherto you have refused to accept.  Mr. Graham paid it into my hands after his last unsatisfactory interview with you.  The day may come when you will need it.  I shall send you some medicine which, for your own sake, you had better take immediately; but you will never grow stronger until you give yourself rest, relaxation, physically and mentally.  Remember, when your health is broken and all your hopes withered, remember I warned you and would have saved you, and you would not.”  He stooped and took his hat from the floor.

Beulah sat looking at him, stunned, bewildered, her tearless eyes strained and frightened in their expression.  The transient illumination in his face had faded, like sunset tints, leaving dull, leaden clouds behind.  His compressed lips were firm again, and the misty eyes became coldly glittering, as one sees stars brighten in a frosty air.

He put on his hat, and they looked at each other fixedly.

“You are not in earnest? you are not going to quit your home?” cried Beulah, in a broken, unsteady tone.