"Yes, the tea bell rang some minutes ago, but Beulah had not quite finished her chapter, and I would not interrupt."

As they walked on to the dining-room, he said:

"You two are going to church, I suppose ?"

No, I shall remain with you," answered his wife, gently.

"You need not, my dear. I will go with you, if you prefer

it."

Beulah did not look up, but she knew that true-hearted wife was unspeakably happy; and understood why, during tea, she was so quiet, so unwontedly silent.

CHAPTER XXXIX.

BEULAH DOES NOT WANT TO SEE MR. LEONARD-VISITS HER GUARDIAN'S RESIDENCE-A WRECK OF ITS FORMER GRANDEURCLAUDIA GRAYSON-HER PRIDE-HER FALL-BEULAH'S

SUGGESTION-ASBURY'S OPPOSITION.

WISH Hartwell would come home, and attend to his business, muttered Dr. Asbury, some weeks later; and as he spoke, he threw his feet impatiently over the fender of the grate, looking discontented enough.

"He will come, sir; he will come," answered Beulah, who sat near him.

"How do you know that so well, child? Why do you suppose he will come ?" asked the doctor, knitting his bushy grey eyebrows.

"Perhaps, because I wish it so very much; and hope and faith are nearly allied, you know, and perhaps more than this-because I have prayed so long for his return."

She sat with her hands folded, looking quietly into the glowing grate. The old man watched her a moment, as the firelight glared over her grave, composed face, and tears came suddenly into his eyes.

"When Harry Hartwell died (about eighteen months since), he left his share of the estate to Guy. It is one of the finest planta

tions in the State, and for the last three years the crops have been remarkably good. The cotton has been sold regularly, and the bulk of the money is still in the hands of the factor. Yesterday I happened to pass the old house, and rode in to see how things looked; positively, child, you would scarcely recognize the place. You know the Farleys only occupied it a few months; since that time it has been rented. Just now it is vacant, and such a deserted looking tenement I have not seen for many days. As far as I am concerned

Here a servant entered to inform the doctor that he was wanted immediately to see one of his patients. He kicked off his slippers, and got up, grumbling :

"A plague on Guy's peregrinating proclivities. I am getting too old to jump up every three seconds, to keep somebody's baby from jerking itself into a spasm, or suffocating with the croup. Hartwell ought to be here to take all this practice off my hands." He put on his overcoat, and went out.

Beulah sat quite still for some minutes after his departure; then glancing at the clock she started up suddenly.

"Where are you going, my dear?" said Mrs. Asbury, looking up from a letter she was writing to Helen.

"To walk."

"But Mr. Leonard is coming here this afternoon to see you; he requested me to tell you so."

I don't want to see him."

"But, my dear, he has already called several times recently without seeing you."

"And if he had any penetration, he might perceive that the avoidance was intended. I am tired of his frequent visits and endless harangues, and he might see it if he chose." She looked rather impatient.

Mrs. Asbury had sealed her letter, and approaching the rug where Beulah stood, she laid her soft hand on her shoulder, and said gently:

My dear child, do not think me officious, or prompted by mere idle curiosity, if I ask, do you intend to reject him ?"

"Why, ma'am, I have rejected him once, and still he forces his society upon me. As to staying at home to see him, I won't

do it."

Mrs. Asbury seemed surprised, and said, smilingly :

66

Upon my word, Beulah you seem fastidious, indeed. What possible objection could you find to Hugh Leonard? Why, my dear, he is the best match in the city."

"I would about as soon think of marrying the doctor's armchair, there."

Beulah went to her own room, and put on her bonnet and cloak. Charon very rarely attended her in her rambles; he had grown old, and was easily fatigued, but this afternoon she called to him, and they set out. It was a mild, sunny evening for winter, and she took the street leading to her guardian's old residence. A quick walk soon brought her into the suburbs, and ere long she stood before the entrance. The great central gate was chained, but the little side gate was completely broken from its hinges, and lay on the ground. Alas! this was but the beginning; as she entered, she saw, with dismay, that the yard was full of stray cattle. Cows, sheep, goats, browsed about undisturbed among the shrubbery, which her guardian had tended so carefully. She had not been here since he sold it, but even Charon saw that something was strangely amiss. He bounded off, and soon cleared the inclosure of the herd, which had become accustomed to grazing here. Beulah walked slowly up the avenue; the aged cedars whispered hoarsely above her as she passed, and the towering poplars, whose ceaseless silvery rustle had an indescribable charm for her in summers past, now tossed their bare boughs toward her in mute complaining of the desolation which surrounded them. The reckless indifference of tenants has deservedly grown into a proverb, and here Beulah beheld an exemplification of its truth. Of all the choice shrubbery which it had been the labor of years to collect and foster; not a particle remained. Roses, creepers, bulbs -all were destroyed, and only the trees and hedges, were spared. The very outline of the beds were effaced in many places, and walking round the paved circle in front of the door, she paused abruptly at the desolation which greeted her. Here was the marble basin of the fountain half filled with rubbish, as though it had been converted into a receptacle for trash, and over the whole front of the house, the dark glossy leaves of the creeping ivy clung in thick masses. She looked around on all sides, but only ruin and neglect confronted her. She remembered the last time she came here, and recalled the beautiful Sunday morning when she saw her guardian standing by the fountain, feeding his pigeons. Ah, how sadly changed! She burst into tears, and sat down on the steps. Charon ran about the yard for some time; then came back looked up at the sombre house, howled, and laid down at her feet. Where was the old master? Wandering among eastern pagodas, while his home became a retreat for owls.

"He has forgotten us, Charon! He has forgotten his two best friends-you and I-who loved him so well! Oh, Charon, he has forgotten us!" cried she, almost despairingly. Charon gave a

melancholy groan of assent, and nestled closer to her. Five years had gone since he left his native land, and for once her faith was faint and wavering. But after some moments she looked up at the calm sky arching above her, and wiping away her tears, added, resignedly:

"But he will come! God will bring him home when he sees fit! I can wait! I can wait!"

Charon's great, gleaming black eyes met hers wistfully; he seemed dubious of his master's return. Beulah rose, and he obeyed the signal.

"Come, Charon, it is getting late; but we will come back some day, and live here."

It was dusk when she entered the library, and found Mrs. Asbury discussing the political questions of the day with her husband. She had just finished reading aloud, one of Reginald's Congressional speeches, and advocated it warmly, while the doctor reprobated some portion of his course.

"You have had a long walk," said Mrs. Asbury, looking up as the orphan entered.

"And look, for the universe, as if you had been ghost-seeing," cried the doctor, wiping his spectacles.

"I would rather meet an army of ghosts than see what I have seen!" answered Beulah.

"Good heavens! In the name of wonder, what have you seen, child? A rattle-snake, or a screech-owl ?"

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 petitions in the bargain."

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

"In the name of common sense, what will you 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 you 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 nobody 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 centre 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 the greatest amusement 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,