written it. I want you to mark the passages you like best; and now I think of it, here is a pencil I cut for you to-day."

He drew it from his pocket and put it into her hand, while his face glowed with enthusiasm.

“Thank you, thank you." Grateful tears sprang to her eyes; tears which acute suffering could not wring from her. He saw the gathering drops, and said, gaily:

"If that is the way you intend to thank me, I shall bring you no more pencils. But you look very pale, and ought to be asleep, for I have no doubt to-morrow will be a trying day for you. Do exert yourself to be brave, and bear it all for a little while; I know it will not be very long, and I shall come and see you just as often as possible.'

He rose as he spoke.

"Are you obliged to go so soon? Can't you stay with me a little longer?" pleaded Beulah.

The boy's eyes filled as he looked at the beseeching, haggard face, and he answered hastily:

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'Not to-night, Beulah; you must go to sleep-you need it sadly."

"You will be cold walking home.-Let me get you a shawl." "No, I left my overcoat in the hall-here it is."

She followed him out to the door, as he drew it on and put on his cap. The moonlight shone over the threshold, and he thought she looked ghostly as it fell upon her face. He took her hand, pressed it gently, and said

"Good night, dear Beulah."

"Good bye Eugene. Do come and see me again soon."

"Yes, I will. Don't get low-spirited as soon as I am out of sight, do you hear ?"

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Yes, I hear, I will try not to complain. Walk fast and keep

warm."

She pressed his hand affectionately, watched his receding form as long as she could trace its outline, and then went slowly back to the dormitory. Falling on her knees by the side of Lilly's empty couch, she besought God, in trembling accents, to bless her darling little sister and Claudy," and to give her strength to perform all her duties contentedly and cheerfully.

CHAPTER III.

BEULAH IN HER NEW HOME.

B

EULAH stood waiting on the steps of the large mansion, to which she had been directed by Miss Dorothea White. Her heart throbbed painfully, and her hand trembled as she rang the bell. The door was opened by a negro waiter, who merely glanced at her, and asked, carelessly— "Well, little miss, what do you want?"

"Is Mrs. Martin at home ?"

“Yes, miss; come, walk in. There is but a poor fire in the front parlor-suppose you sit down in the back room. Martin will be down in a minute."

Mrs.

The first object which arrested Beulah's attention was a centre table covered with books. Perhaps," thought she, "they will permit me to read some of them." While she sat looking over the titles, the rustle of silk caused her to glance around, and she saw Mrs. Martin quite near her.

"Good morning," said the lady, with a searching look, which made the little figure tremble.

"Good morning, madam."

"You are the girl Miss White promised to send from the Asylum, are you not ?"

"Yes, madam."

"Do you think you can take care of my baby?"

"Oh, I will try."

“You don't look strong and healthy—have you been sick ?”

"No, I am very well, thank you."

"I may want you to sew some, occasionally, when the baby is asleep. Can you hem and stich neatly ?"

“I believe I sew very well, madam-our matron says so." "What is your name?

gotten it."

"Beulah Benton."

Miss White told me, but I have for

you are

"Well, Beulah, I think you will suit me very well, if only careful, and attend to my directions. I am just going out shopping, but you can come up-stairs and take charge of Johnny. Where are your clothes!"

"Our matron will send them to-day."

Beulah followed Mrs. Martin up the steps, somewhat reassured by her kind reception. The room was in utter confusion, the toilet-table covered with powder, hairpins, bows of different colored ribbon, and various bits of jewelry; the hearth unswept, the work-stand groaning beneath the superincumbent mass of

sewing, finished and unfinished garments, working materials, and, to crown the whole, the lady's winter hat. A girl, apparently about thirteen years of age, was seated by the fire, busily embroidering a lamp-mat; another, some six years younger, was dressing a doll; while an infant, five or six months old, crawled about the carpet, eagerly picking up pins, needles, and every other objectionable article his little purple fingers could grasp.

"Take him, Beulah," said the mother.

She stooped to comply, and was surprised that the little fellow testified no fear of her. She raised him in her arms, and kissed his rosy cheeks, as he looked wonderingly at her.

"Ma, is that Johnny's new nurse? What is her name ?" said the youngest girl, laying down her doll and carefully surveying the stranger.

"Yes, Annie; and her name is Beulah," replied the mother, adjusting her bonnet.

"Beulah-it's about as pretty as her face. Yes, just about," continued Annie, in an audible whisper to her sister. The latter gave Beulah a condescending stare, curled her lips disdainfully, and with a polite "Mind your own business, Annie," returned to her embroidery.

"Keep the baby by the fire; and if he frets, you must feed him. Laura, show her where to find his cup of arrowroot, and you and Annie stay here, till I come home.

"No, indeed, 'ma, I can't, for I must go down, and practice my music lesson," answered the eldest daughter, decisively.

"I am going to make some sugar-candy 'ma. She," (pointing to Beulah) "can take care of Johnny. I thought that was what you hired her for."

"You will make no sugar-candy till I come home, Miss Annie; do you hear that? Now, mind what I said to you."

Mrs. Martin rustled out of the room, leaving Annie to scowl ominously at the new nurse, and vent her spleen by boxing her doll, because the inanimate little lady would not keep her blue-bead eyes open. Beulah loved children, and Johnny forcibly reminded her of her earlier days, when she had carried Lilly about in her arms. For some time after the departure of Mrs. Martin and Laura, the little fellow seemed perfectly satisfied, but finally grew fretful, and Beulah surmised he might be hungry.

"Will you please give me the baby's arrowroot ?"

"I don't know anything about it; ask Harrison." "Who is Harrison ?"

Why, the cook."

Glancing around the room, she found the arrowroot; the boy was fed, and soon fell asleep. Beulah sat in a low rocking-chair, by the hearth, holding the infant, and watching the little figure opposite. Annie was trying to fit a new silk waist to her doll, but

it was too broad one way and too narrow another. She twisted and jerked it divers ways, but all in vain; and at last disgusted by the experiment, she tore it off and aimed it at the fire, with an impatient cry.

"The plagued, bothering, ugly thing! My Lucia never shall wear such a fit."

Beulah caught the discarded waist, and said, quietly:

"You can very easily make it fit, by taking up this seam and cutting it out in the neck."

"I don't believe it."

Then, hand me the doll and the scissors and I will show you."

"Her name is Miss Lucia-di-Lammermoor. Mr. Green named her; don't say 'doll,' call her by her proper name," answered the spoiled child, handing over the unfortunate waxen representative of a not less unfortunate heroine.

"Well, then, Miss Lucia-di-Lammermoor," said Beulah, smiling. A few alterations reduced the dress to proper dimensions, and Annie arrayed her favourite in it, with no slight degree of satisfaction. The obliging manner of the new nurse won her heart, and she began to chat pleasantly enough. About two o'clock Mrs. Martin returned, inquired after Johnny, and again absented herself to "see about dinner." Beulah was very weary of the close, disordered room, and as the babe amused himself with his ivory rattle, she swept the floor, dusted the furniture, and arranged the chairs. The loud ringing of the bell startled her, and she conjectured dinner was ready. Some time elapsed before any of the family returned, and then Laura entered, looking very sullen. She took charge of the babe, and rather ungraciously desired the nurse to get her dinner.

"I do not wish any," answered Beulah.

At this stage of the conversation the door opened, and a boy, seemingly about Eugene's age, entered the room. He looked curiously at Beulah, inclined his head slightly, and joined his sister at the fire.

"How do you like her, Laura ?" he asked, in a distinct under

tone.

"Oh! I suppose she will do well enough; but she is horridly ugly," replied Laura, in a similar key.

"I don't know, sis. It is what Dr. Patton, the lecturer on physiognomy, would call a 'striking' face."

Yes, strikingly ugly, Dick. Her forehead juts over, like the eaves of the kitchen, and her eyebrows"

"Hush! she will hear you. Come down and play that new waltz for me, like a good sister." The two left the room. Beulah had heard every word! she could not avoid it, and as she recalled Mrs. Grayson's remark concerning her appearance on the previous day, her countenance reflected her intense mortification. She

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pressed her face against the window-pane and stared vacantly out. The elevated position commanded a fine view of the town, and on the eastern horizon the blue waters of the harbor glittered with silvery sheen." At any other time, and with different emotions, Beulah's love of the beautiful would have been particularly gratified by this extended prospect; but now the whole possessed no charms for her darkened spirit. For the moment, earth was black-hued to her gaze; she only saw "horribly ugly," inscribed on sky and water. Her soul seemed to leap forward and view nearer the myriad motes that floated in the haze of the future. She leaned over the vast whirring lottery wheel of life, and saw a blank come up, with her name stamped upon it. But the grim smile faded from her lips and brave endurance looked out from the large sad eyes, as she murmured,

"Be not like dumb, driven cattle;

Be a hero in the strife."

"If I am ugly, God made me so, and I know 'He doeth all things well.' I will not let it bother me; I will try not to think of it. But, oh! I am so glad, I thank God, that he made my Lilly beautiful. She will never have to suffer, as I do now. My own darling Lilly!" Large drops glistened in her eyes; she rarely wept; but though the tears did not fall, they gathered often in the grey depths. The evening passed very quietly; Mr. Martin was absent in a distant State, whither, as travelling agent for a mercantile house, he was often called. After tea, when little Johnny had been put to sleep in his crib, Mrs. Martin directed Annie to show the nurse to her own room. Taking a candle, the child complied, and her mother_ordered one of the servants to carry up the trunk containing Beulah's clothes. Up, up, two weary, winding flights of steps, the little Annie toiled, and pausing at the landing of the second, pointed to a low attic chamber, lighted by dormer windows on the east and west. The floor was uncovered; the furniture consisted of a narrow trundlebed, wash-stand, a cracked looking-glass suspended from a nail, a small deal table, and a couple of chairs. There were, also, some hooks driven into the wall, to hang clothes upon.

"You need not be afraid to sleep here, because the boarders occupy the rooms on the floor below this; and besides, you know robbers never get up to the garret," said Annie, glancing around the apartment, and shivering with an undefined dread, rather than with cold, though her nose and fingers were purple, and this garret-chamber possessed neither stove nor chimney.

"I am not afraid; but this is only one garret-room, are the others occupied ?"

"Yes, by carpets in summer, and rats in winter," laughed Annie,