“No one can like him as I do.  You don’t know how very kind he has been to me—­me, the miserable, lonely orphan,” murmured Beulah, as his smile and tones recurred to her.

“Yes, I can imagine, because I know his noble heart; and, therefore, child, I say you cannot realize how privileged you are.”

The discussion was cut short by a call to recitation, and too calmly happy in the knowledge of Eugene’s safety to ponder her companion’s manner, Beulah sank into a reverie, in which Eugene, and Heidelberg, and long letters mingled pleasingly.  Later in the day, as she and Pauline were descending the steps, the door of the primary department of the school opened, and a little girl, clad in deep black, started up the same flight of steps.  Seeing the two above, she leaned against the wall, waiting for them to pass.  Beulah stood still, and the sachel she carried fell unheeded from her hand, while a thrilling cry broke from the little girl’s lips; and, springing up the steps, she threw herself into Beulah’s arms.

“Dear Beulah!  I have found you at last!” She covered the thin face with passionate kisses; then heavy sobs escaped her, and the two wept bitterly together.

“Beulah, I did love her very much; I did not forget what I promised you.  She used to put her arms around my neck every night, and go to sleep close to me; and whenever she thought about you and cried, she always put her head in my lap.  Indeed I did love her.”

“I believe you, Claudy,” poor Beulah groaned, in her anguish.

“They did not tell me she was dead; they said she was sick in another room!  Oh, Beulah! why didn’t you come to see us?  Why didn’t you come?  When she was first taken sick she called for you all the time; and the evening they moved me into the next room she was asking for you.  ‘I want my sister Beulah!  I want my Beulah!’ was the last thing I heard her say; and when I cried for you, too, mamma said we were both crazy with fever.  Oh!”—­she paused and sobbed convulsively.  Beulah raised her head, and, while the tears dried in her flashing eyes, said fiercely: 

“Claudy, I did go to see you!  On my knees, at Mrs. Grayson’s front door, I prayed her to let me see you.  She refused, and ordered me to come there no more!  She would not suffer my sister to know that I was waiting there on my knees to see her dear, angel face.  That was long before you were taken sick.  She did not even send me word that Lilly was ill:  I knew nothing of it till my darling was cold in her little shroud!  Oh, Claudy!  Claudy!”

She covered her face with her hands and tried to stifle the wail that crossed her lips.  Claudia endeavored to soothe her, by winding her arms about her and kissing her repeatedly.  Pauline had looked wonderingly on, during this painful reunion; and now drawing nearer, she said, with more gentleness than was her custom: 

“Don’t grieve so, Beulah.  Wipe your eyes and come home; those girls yonder are staring at you.”