Part 14 (1/2)
”Aren't you glad I am to have my birthday frolic?”
”Yes; I am glad on your account,” answered Beulah gravely.
”Can you dance all the fancy dances? I don't like any so well as the mazourka.”
”I do not dance at all.”
”Don't dance! Why, I have danced ever since I was big enough to crawl! What have you been doing all your life, that you don't know how to dance?”
”My feet have had other work to do,” replied her companion; and, as the recollections of her early childhood flitted before her, the brow darkened.
”I suppose that is one reason you look so forlorn all the time. I will ask Uncle Guy to send you to the dancing school for--”
”Pauline, it is school-time, and you don't know one word of that Quackenbos; I would be ashamed to start from home as ignorant of my lessons as you are.” Mrs. Chilton's head was projected from the parlor window, and the rebuke was delivered in no very gentle tone.
”Oh, I don't mind it at all; I have got used to it,” answered the daughter, tossing up the book as she spoke.
”Get ready for school this minute!”
Pauline scampered into the house for her bonnet and sachel; and, fixing her eyes upon Beulah, Mrs. Chilton asked sternly:
”What are you doing out there? What did you follow my brother to the gate for? Answer me!”
”I merely opened the gate for him,” replied the girl, looking steadily up at the searching eyes.
”There was a servant with him to do that. In future don't make yourself so conspicuous. You must keep away from the flower beds too. The doctor wishes no one prowling about them; he gave particular directions that no one should go there in his absence.”
They eyed each other an instant; then, drawing up her slender form to its utmost height, Beulah replied proudly:
”Be a.s.sured, madam, I shall not trespa.s.s on forbidden ground!”
”Very well.” The lace curtains swept back to their place--the fair face was withdrawn.
”She hates me,” thought Beulah, walking on to her own room; ”she hates me, and certainly I do not love her. I shall like Pauline very much, but her mother and I never will get on smoothly. What freezing eyes she has, and what a disagreeable look there is about her mouth whenever she sees me! She wishes me to remember all the time that I am poor, and that she is the mistress of this elegant house. Ah, I am not likely to forget it!” The old smile of bitterness crossed her face.
The days pa.s.sed swiftly. Beulah spent most of her time in her own room, for Dr. Hartwell was sometimes absent all day, and she longed to escape his sister's icy espionage. When he was at home, and not engaged in his study, his manner was always kind and considerate; but she fancied he was colder and graver, and often his stern abstraction kept her silent when they were together. Monday was the birthday, and on Monday morning she expected to start to school.
Madam St. Cymon's was the fas.h.i.+onable inst.i.tution of the city, and thither, with Pauline, she was destined. Beulah rose early, dressed herself carefully, and, after reading a chapter in her Bible, and asking G.o.d's special guidance through the day, descended to the breakfast room. Dr. Hartwell sat reading a newspaper; he did not look up, and she quietly seated herself un.o.bserved. Presently Mrs.
Chilton entered and walked up to her brother.
”Good-morning, Guy. Are there no tidings of that vessel yet? I hear the Grahams are terribly anxious about it. Cornelia said her father was unable to sleep.”
”No news yet; but, May, be sure you do not let--”
”Was it the 'Morning Star'? Is he lost?”
Beulah stood crouching at his side, with her hands extended pleadingly, and her white face convulsed.
”My child, do not look so wretched; the vessel that Eugene sailed in was disabled in a storm, and has not yet reached the place of destination. But there are numerous ways of accounting for the detention, and you must hope and believe that all is well until you know the contrary.” He drew her to his side, and stroked her head compa.s.sionately.
”I knew it would be so,” said she, in a strangely subdued, pa.s.sionless tone.