“I do not see that I am at all magnanimous in giving away other people’s money.  If I had earned it by hard labor, and then given it to Claudy, there would have been some more show of generosity.  Here come Georgia and her husband; you do not need me to read this evening, and I have work to do.”  She extricated herself from Mrs. Asbury’s clasping arm and retired to her own room.  The following day Claudia came to say that, as she knew not what else to do, she would gladly accept the position mentioned as teacher of drawing and painting.  Mrs. Grayson’s brother had come to take her home, but she was unwilling to be separated from Claudia.  Beulah no longer hesitated, and the sum of five thousand dollars seemed to poor Claudia a fortune indeed.  She could not understand how the girl whom she and her mother had insulted could possibly have the means of making them so comparatively comfortable.  Beulah briefly explained the circumstances which had enabled her to assist them.  The bulk of the money remained in Dr. Asbury’s hands, and Claudia was to apply to him whenever she needed it.  She and her mamma found a cheaper boarding house, and Claudia’s duties began at once.  Mrs. Grayson was overwhelmed with shame when the particulars were made known to her, and tears of bitter mortification could not obliterate the memory of the hour when she cruelly denied the prayer of the poor orphan to whom she now owed the shelter above her head.  Beulah did not see her for many weeks subsequent; she knew how painful such a meeting would be to the humbled woman, and, while she constantly cheered and encouraged Claudia in her work, she studiously avoided Mrs. Grayson’s presence.

Thus the winter passed; and once more the glories of a Southern spring were scattered over the land.  To the Asburys Beulah was warmly attached, and her residence with them was as pleasant as any home could possibly have been which was not her own.  They were all that friends could be to an orphan; still, she regretted her little cottage, and missed the home-feeling she had prized so highly.  True, she had constant access to the greenhouse, and was rarely without her bouquet of choice flowers; but these could not compensate her for the loss of her own little garden.  She struggled bravely with discontent; tried to look only on the sunshine in her path and to be always cheerful.  In this she partially succeeded.  No matter how lonely and sad she felt, she hid it carefully, and the evenings in the library were never marred by words of repining or looks of sorrow.  To the close observer there were traces of grief in her countenance; and sometimes when she sat sewing while Mrs. Asbury read aloud, it was easy to see that her thoughts had wandered far from that little room.  Time had changed her singularly since the old asylum days.  She was now a finely formed, remarkably graceful woman, with a complexion of dazzling transparency.  She was always pale, but the blue veins might be traced