The doctor lifted her up, and leaned her head against his shoulder.

“Oh, Dr. Hartwell, I have had a horrible, horrible dream!” She shuddered, and clung to him tightly, as if dreading it might still prove a reality.

“Poor child!  Come with me, and I will try to exorcise this evil spirit which haunts even your slumbers.”

Keeping her hand in his, he led her down to his study, and seated her on a couch drawn near the window.  The confused sound of many voices and the tread of dancing feet, keeping time to a band of music, came indistinctly from the parlors.  Dr. Hartwell closed the door, to shut out the unwelcome sounds, and, seating himself before the melodeon, poured a flood of soothing, plaintive melody upon the air.  Beulah sat entranced, while he played on and on, as if unconscious of her presence.  Her whole being was inexpressibly thrilled; and, forgetting her frightful vision, her enraptured soul hovered on the very confines of fabled elysium.  Sliding from the couch, upon her knees, she remained with her clasped hands pressed over her heart, only conscious of her trembling delight.  Once or twice before she had felt thus, in watching a gorgeous sunset in the old pine grove; and now, as the musician seemed to play upon her heart-strings, calling thence unearthly tones, the tears rolled swiftly over her face.  Images of divine beauty filled her soul, and nobler aspirations than she had ever known took possession of her.  Soon the tears ceased, the face became calm, singularly calm; then lighted with an expression which nothing earthly could have kindled.  It was the look of one whose spirit, escaping from gross bondage, soared into realms divine, and proclaimed itself God-born.  Dr. Hartwell was watching her countenance, and, as the expression of indescribable joy and triumph flashed over it, he involuntarily paused.  She waited till the last deep echoing tone died away, and then, approaching him, as he still sat before the instrument, she laid her hand on his knee, and said slowly: 

“Oh, thank you!  I can bear anything now.”

“Can you explain to me how the music strengthened you?  Try, will you?”

She mused for some moments, and answered thoughtfully: 

“First, it made me forget the pain of my dream; then it caused me to think of the wonderful power which created music; and then, from remembering the infinite love and wisdom of the Creator, who has given man the power to call out this music, I thought how very noble man was, and what he was capable of doing; and, at last, I was glad because God has given me some of these powers; and, though I am ugly, and have been afflicted in losing my dear loved ones, yet I was made for God’s glory in some way, and am yet to be shown the work he has laid out for me to do.  Oh, sir!  I can’t explain it all to you, but I do know that God will prove to me that ’He doeth all things well.’”

She looked gravely up into the face beside her, and sought to read its baffling characters.  He had leaned his elbow on the melodeon, and his wax-like fingers were thrust through his hair.  His brow was smooth, and his mouth at rest, but the dark eyes, with their melancholy splendor, looked down at her moodily.  They met her gaze steadily; and then she saw into the misty depths, and a shudder crept over her, as she fell on her knees, and said shiveringly: