“When Harry Hartwell died (about eighteen months since) he left his share of the estate to Guy.  It is one of the finest plantations in the State, and for the last three years the crops have been remarkably good.  The cotton has been sold regularly, and the bulk of the money is still in the hands of the factor.  Yesterday I happened to pass the old house, and rode in to see how things looked; positively, child, you would scarcely recognize the place.  You know the Farleys only occupied it a few months; since that time it has been rented.  Just now it is vacant, and such a deserted-looking tenement I have not seen for many days.  As far as I am concerned—­”

Here a servant entered to inform the doctor that he was wanted immediately to see one of his patients.  He kicked off his slippers, and got up, grumbling: 

“A plague on Guy’s peregrinating proclivities!  I am getting too old to jump up every three seconds, to keep somebody’s baby from jerking itself into a spasm or suffocating with the croup.  Hartwell ought to be here to take all this practice off my hands.”

He put on his overcoat and went out.

Beulah sat quite still for some minutes after his departure; then, glancing at the clock, she started up suddenly.

“Where are you going, my dear?” said Mrs. Asbury, looking up from a letter she was writing to Helen.

“To walk.”

“But Mr. Leonard is coming here this afternoon to see you; he requested me to tell you so.”

“I don’t want to see him.”

“But, my dear, he has already called several times recently without seeing you.”

“And if he had any penetration he might perceive that the avoidance was intended.  I am tired of his frequent visits and endless harangues, and he might see it if he chose.”  She looked rather impatient.

Mrs. Asbury had sealed her letter, and, approaching the rug where Beulah stood, she laid her soft hand on her shoulder, and said gently: 

“My dear child, do not think me officious, or prompted by mere idle curiosity, if I ask, Do you intend to reject him?”

“Why, ma’am, I have rejected him once, and still he forces his society upon me.  As to staying at home to see him, I won’t do it.”

Mrs. Asbury seemed surprised, and said smilingly: 

“Upon my word, Beulah, you seem fastidious, indeed.  What possible objection could you find to Hugh Leonard?  Why, my dear, he is the best match in the city.”

“I would about as soon think of marrying the doctor’s armchair, there.”

Beulah went to her own room and put on her bonnet and cloak.  Charon very rarely attended her in her rambles; he had grown old, and was easily fatigued; but this afternoon she called to him, and they set out.  It was a mild, sunny evening for winter, and she took the street leading to her guardian’s old residence.  A quick walk soon brought her into the suburbs, and ere long she stood before the