“No; I would rather stay here.”

“Then I will kindle you a fire right away.”

Harriet moved about the room with cheerful alacrity.  She had always seemed to consider herself Beulah’s special guardian and friend, and gave continual proof of the strength of her affection.  Evidently she desired to talk about her master, but Beulah’s face gave her no encouragement to proceed.  She made several efforts to renew the conversation, but they were not seconded, and she withdrew, muttering to herself: 

“She is learning all his ways.  He does hate to talk any more than he can help, and she is patterning after him just as fast as she can.  They don’t seem to know what the Lord gave them tongues for.”

Beulah practiced perseveringly for some time, and then, drawing a chair near the fire, sat down and leaned her head on her hand.  She missed her guardian—­wanted to see him—­felt surprised at his sudden departure and mortified that he had not thought her of sufficient consequence to bid adieu to and be apprised of his intended trip.  He treated her precisely as he did when she first entered the house; seemed to consider her a mere child, whereas she knew she was no longer such.  He never alluded to her plan of teaching, and when she chanced to mention it he offered no comment, looked indifferent or abstracted.  Though invariably kind, and sometimes humorous, there was an impenetrable reserve respecting himself, his past and future, which was never laid aside.  When not engaged with his flowers or music, he was deep in some favorite volume, and, outside of these sources of enjoyment, seemed to derive no real pleasure.  Occasionally he had visitors, but these were generally strangers, often persons residing at a distance, and Beulah knew nothing of them.  Several times he had attended concerts and lectures, but she had never accompanied him; and frequently, when sitting by his side, felt as if a glacier lay between them.  After Mrs. Chilton’s departure for New York, where she and Pauline were boarding, no ladies ever came to the house, except a few of middle age, who called now and then to see Mrs. Watson, and, utterly isolated from society, Beulah was conscious of entire ignorance of all that passed in polite circles.  Twice Claudia had called, but, unable to forget the past sufficiently to enter Mrs. Grayson’s house, their intercourse had ended with Claudia’s visits.  Mrs. Watson was a kind-hearted and most excellent woman, who made an admirable housekeeper, but possessed few of the qualifications requisite to render her an agreeable companion.  With an ambitious nature, and an eager thirst for knowledge, Beulah had improved her advantages as only those do who have felt the need of them.  While she acquired, with unusual ease and rapidity, the branches of learning taught at school, she had availed herself of the extensive and select library, to which she had free access, and history, biography, travels, essays, and novels