“Oh, Alice! do you wonder she does not like Hugh Leonard?  He is a ‘catch,’ as far as position, and money, and a certain sort of talent, and is very clever, and upright, I know; but he does not suit Beulah.  If she would not marry Reginald, of course she won’t marry Hugh.”

Jangle! went the door bell once more, and this time the doctor was forced to leave his chair and slippers.

The winter had been very gay, and, without doubt, the belle of the season was Claudia Grayson.  She had grown up a brilliant, imperious beauty.  Petted most injudiciously by Mr. and Mrs. Grayson, the best elements of her character, instead of being fostered and developed, were smothered beneath vanity and arrogance; and soon selfishness became the dominant characteristic.  To those whom she considered her inferiors she was supercilious and overbearing; while, even in her adopted home, she tyrannized over both servants and parents.  Flattered and sought after in society, she was never happy unless the center of a gay circle.  Ere long she discovered the heartlessness of her admirers; learned the malice and envy of the very people she visited most intimately; and once acquainted with their natures and habits, she found her greatest amusement in ridiculing those who did precisely the same thing the moment she left them.  Beulah had never been able to conquer her feelings sufficiently to enter Mrs. Grayson’s house; but she had met Claudia several times.  The latter, when accompanied by any of her fashionable acquaintances, always shrank from recognizing her; and finally, thinking any allusion to former years, and the asylum, a personal insult, she passed her without even a bow.  The first time this occurred Beulah was deeply wounded; she had loved Claudia very warmly, and her superciliousness was hard to bear.  But the slight was repeated several times, and she learned to pity her weakness most sincerely.

“Ah!” thought she, “how much better it was that Lilly should die than live to grow up a heartless flirt like Claudy!  Much better, little sister!  Much better!”

It was the morning after her walk to the old home of her guardian that Dr. Asbury threw down the paper on the breakfast table with an exclamation of horror.

“What is the matter, George?” cried his wife, while Beulah grew deadly pale, and clutched the paper; her mind, like “Hinda’s,”

  “Still singling one from all mankind.”

“Matter!  Why, poor Grayson has committed suicide—­shot himself last night, poor wretch!  He has been speculating too freely and lost every cent; and, worse than that, used money to do it that was not his.  He made desperate throws and lost all; and the end of it was that, when his operations were discovered, he shot himself, leaving his family utterly destitute.  I heard yesterday that they would not have a cent; but never dreamed of his being so weak as to kill himself.  Miserable mistake!”

“What will become of Mrs. Grayson and Claudia?” asked Beulah sorrowfully.