He put his broad palms on his knees, and looked mockingly curious and startled.

"I have been out to see the old place, sir; found the gate broken down, the front yard full of cows, and everything going to destruction, except the trees and hedges. Sir, it makes me feel very sad. I can't bear to have things go on this way any longer. It must be rectified."

"Bless my soul, that is easier said than done! The place is a perfect owl-roost, there is no denying that; but it is no business of ours. If Farley or his agent suffers the property to go to ruin, it is his loss."

"But I love the place. I want to save it. Won't you buy it, Dr.

Asbury?"

"Won't I buy it? Why, what on earth do you suppose I should do with it? I don't want to live in it; and, as for any more investments in real estate, why, just excuse me, if you please! Insurance and repairs eat up all the profits, and I am plagued to death with pet.i.tions in the bargain."

"Then I must buy it myself!" said Beulah resolutely.

"In the name of common sense, tell me what you will do with it?"

"I don't know yet; keep it, I suppose, until he comes home again.

How much do you suppose the Farleys ask for it?"

"I really cannot conjecture. But, child, you must not think of this.

I will see the agent about it, and perhaps I may purchase it, to oblige you. I will not hear of your buying it. Guy certainly cannot contemplate heathenating much longer. There is that eternal door- bell again! Somebody that believes I am constructed of wire and gutta-percha, I dare say."

He leaned back, and watched the door very uneasily. A servant looked in.

"Mr. Leonard, to see Miss Beulah."

"Thank Heaven, it is n.o.body to see me!" The doctor settled himself comfortably, and laughed at the perturbed expression of Beulah's countenance.

"Ask him to excuse me this evening," said she, without rising.

"Nay, my dear; he was here this afternoon, and you had gone to walk.

It would be rude not to see him. Go into the parlor; do, my dear; perhaps he will not detain you long," remonstrated Mrs. Asbury.

Beulah said nothing; she set her lips firmly, rose, and went to the parlor.

"I will wager my head he won't stay fifteen minutes, after he gets a glimpse of her face. Hugh ought to have sense enough to see that she does not fancy him," said the doctor, laughing.

"I should very much like to see the man she would fancy," answered his wife, knitting away busily on a purse for some sewing society.

"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 amus.e.m.e.nt 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 pa.s.sed 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 dest.i.tute. 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.

"I don't know, really. Mrs. Grayson has a brother living somewhere up the country; I suppose he will offer them a home, such as he has.

I pity her. She is a weak creature,--weak, mind and body,--and this reverse will come very near killing her."

For some days nothing was discussed but the "Grayson tragedy." It was well the unhappy man could not listen to the fierce maledictions of disappointed creditors and the slanders which were now heaped upon his name. Whatever his motives might have been, the world called his offenses by the darkest names, and angry creditors vowed every knife, fork, and spoon should come under the hammer. The elegant house was sold--the furniture with it; and Mrs. Grayson and Claudia removed temporarily to a boarding house. Not one of their fashionable intimates approached them--no, not one. When Claudia went one day to her mantuamaker to have her mourning fitted, she met a couple of ladies who had formerly been constant visitors at the house and regular attendants at her parties. Unsuspectingly she hastened to meet them, but, to her astonishment, instead of greeting her in their usual fawning manner, they received her with a very cold bow, just touched the tips of her fingers, and, gathering up their robes, swept majestically from the room. Rage and mortification forced the tears into her eyes.

Mrs. Asbury had never admired Mrs. Grayson's character; she visited her formally about twice a year; but now, in this misfortune, she alone called to see her. When Claudia returned from the mantuamaker's she found Mrs. Asbury with her mother, and received from her hand a kind, friendly note from the girl she had so grossly insulted. Beulah was no flatterer; she wrote candidly and plainly; said she would have called at once had she supposed her company would be acceptable. She would gladly come and see Claudia whenever she desired to see her, and hoped that the memory of other years would teach her the sincerity of her friendship. Claudia wept bitterly as she read it, and vainly regretted the superciliousness which had alienated one she knew to be n.o.ble and trustworthy. She was naturally an impulsive creature, and, without a moment's hesitation, dashed off an answer, all blurred with tears, begging Beulah to overlook her "foolishness" and come to see her.

Accordingly, after school, Beulah went to the house where they were boarding. Claudia met her rather awkwardly, but Beulah kissed her as if nothing had ever occurred to mar their intercourse; and, after some desultory conversation, asked her what they expected to do.

"Heaven only knows! starve, I suppose." She spoke gloomily, and folded her soft white hands over each other, as if the idea of work was something altogether foreign to her mind.

"But, Claudia, I reckon you hardly expect to starve," answered Beulah, who could not forbear smiling.

"Dear knows what is to become of us--I am sure I don't! Mamma has a brother living in some out-of-the-way place up the country. But he does not like me--thinks some of his own children ought to have been adopted in my place. Heaven knows I have made nothing by the operation but a great disappointment; he need not be uneasy about the amount I am to get. But you see they don't want me, having an old spite at me, and mamma dislikes to ask them to take me; besides, I would almost as soon be buried at once as go to that farm, or plantation, or whatever it is. They have written to mamma to come, and she does not know what to do."

"You are a good musician, are you not?"

"No, not particularly. I never could endure to practice."

"Don't you draw and paint finely? I have heard that you did."

"Yes; but what good will it do me now, I should like to know?" She twirled her little plump, jeweled fingers indolently.

"It might do you a great deal of good, if you chose. You might support yourself by giving lessons," said Beulah decisively.

She drew up her shoulders, frowned, and pouted without making any answer.

"Claudy, you do not wish to be dependent on a man who dislikes you?"

"Not if I can help myself!"

"And you certainly do not wish to be the means of preventing Mrs.

Grayson from having a comfortable home with her brother?"

Claudia burst into tears. She did not love her mother, did not even respect her, she was so very weak and childish; yet the young orphan felt very desolate, and knew not what to do. Beulah took her hand, and said kindly:

"If you are willing to help yourself, dear Claudy, I will gladly do all I can to a.s.sist you. I think I can secure you a situation as teacher of drawing, and, until you can make something at it, I will pay your board; and you shall stay with me, if you like. You can think about it, and let me know as soon as you decide." Claudia thanked her cordially, and, returning home, Beulah immediately imparted the plan to her friends. They thought it would scarcely succeed, Claudia had been so petted and spoiled. Beulah sat gazing into the fire for a while; then, looking at the doctor, said abruptly:

"There is that Graham money, sir, doing n.o.body any good."

"That is just what I have been telling you for the last six years. I have invested it carefully, until it has almost doubled itself."