Part 44 (1/2)
”But you never talk about your parents?”
”I love my father's memory. Ah! it is enshrined in my heart's holiest sanctuary. He was a n.o.ble, loving man, and my affection for him bordered on idolatry.”
”And your mother?”
”I knew little of her. She died before I was old enough to remember much about her.”
Her face was full of bitter recollections; her eyes seemed wandering through some storehouse of sorrows. Clara feared her friend, much as she loved her, and since the partial discovery of her skepticism she had rather shunned her society. Now she watched the heavy brow and deep, piercing eyes uneasily, and, gently withdrawing her arm, she glided out of the room. The tide of life still swelled through the streets, and, forcibly casting the load of painful reminiscences from her, Beulah kept her eyes on the merry faces, and listened to the gay, careless prattle of the excited children. The stately rustle of brocaded silk caused her to look up, and Cornelia Graham greeted her with:
”I have come to take you home with me for the holidays.”
”I can't go.”
”Why not? You cling to this dark garret of yours as if it possessed all the charms of Vaucluse.”
”Diogenes loved his tub, you know,” said Beulah quietly.
”An a.n.a.logous case, truly. But, jesting aside, you must come, Beulah. Eugene expects you; so do my parents; and, above all, I want you. Come.” Cornelia laid her hand on the girl's shoulders as she spoke.
”You have been ill again,” said Beulah, examining the sallow face.
”Not ill, but I shall be soon, I know. One of my old attacks is coming on; I feel it; and Beulah, to be honest, which I can with you (without casting pearls before swine), that very circ.u.mstance makes me want you. I dined out to-day, and have just left the fas.h.i.+onable crowd to come and ask you to spend the holidays with me. The house will be gay. Antoinette intends to have a set of tableaux; but it is probable I shall be confined to my room. Will you give your time to a cross invalid, for such I certainly am? I would be stretched upon St. Lawrence's gridiron before I could be brought to say as much to anybody else. I am not accustomed to ask favors, Beulah; it has been my habit to grant them. Nevertheless, I want you, and am not too proud to come after you. Will you come?”
”Yes, if I may remain with you altogether.”
”Thank you. Come, get ready, quick! Give me a fan.” Sinking into a chair, she wiped away the cold drops which had collected about her brow.
”Cornelia, I have only one day's leisure. School begins again day after to-morrow.”
”Well, well; one day, then. Be quick!”
In a few moments Beulah was ready; and, after informing Clara and Mrs. Hoyt of her intended absence, the two entered Mr. Graham's elegant carriage. The gas was now lighted, and the spirited horses dashed along through streets brilliantly illuminated and thronged with happy people.
”What a Babel! About equal to Constantinople, and its dog- orchestra,” muttered Cornelia, as the driver paused to allow one of the military companies to pa.s.s. The martial music, together with the hubbub which otherwise prevailed, alarmed the horses, and they plunged violently. The driver endeavored to back out into an alley; but, in the attempt, the carriage was whirled round, the coachman jerked over the dashboard into the gutter, and the frightened animals dashed at furious speed down the main street. Luckily the top was thrown back, making the carriage open, and, springing forward to the post so unceremoniously vacated by the driver, Beulah s.n.a.t.c.hed the reins, which were just within her reach. Curb the rus.h.i.+ng horses she did not hope to do; but, by cautious energy, succeeded in turning them sufficiently aside to avoid coming in collision with several other carriages. The street was full of vehicles, and though, as may well be imagined, there was every effort made to give the track, the carriage rushed against the bright yellow wheels of a light buggy in which two young men were trying to manage a fast trotter. There was a terrible smash of wheels, the young gentlemen were suddenly landed in the mud, and their emanc.i.p.ated steed galloped on, with the wreck of the buggy at his heels. Men, women, and children gathered on the corners to witness the denouement. Drays, carts, and wagons were seized with a simultaneous stampede, which soon cleared the middle of the street, and, uninjured by the collision, our carriage flew on. Cornelia sat on the back seat, ghastly pale and motionless, expecting every minute to be hurled out, while Beulah stood up in front, reins in hand, trying to guide the maddened horses. Her bonnet fell off; the motion loosened her comb, and down came her long, heavy hair in black, blinding folds. She shook it all back from her face, and soon saw that this reckless game of dodging vehicles could not last much longer. Straight ahead, at the end of the street, was the wharf, crowded with cotton bales, barrels, and a variety of freight; just beyond was the river. A number of gentlemen stood on a neighboring corner, and with one impulse they rushed forward with extended arms.
On sprang the horses almost upon them; eager hands grasped at the bits.
”Stand back-all of you! You might as well catch at the winds!”
shouted Beulah, and, with one last effort, she threw, her whole weight on the reins and turned the horses into a cross street. The wheels struck the curbstone, the carriage tilted, rocked, fell back again, and on they went for three squares more, when the horses stopped short before the livery stable where they were kept.
Embossed with foam, and panting like stags at bay, they were seized by a dozen hands.
”By all the G.o.ds of Greece! you have had a flying trip of it!” cried Dr. Asbury, with one foot on the carriage step and both hands extended, while his gray hair hung in confusion about his face. He had followed them for at least half a dozen blocks, and was pale with anxiety.
”See about Cornelia,” said Beulah, seating herself for the first time and twisting up the veil of hair which swept round her form.
”Cornelia has fainted! Halloo, there! some water! quick!” said the doctor, stepping into the carriage and attempting to lift the motionless figure. But Cornelia opened her eyes, and answered unsteadily:
”No! carry me home! Dr. Asbury, take me home!”
The brilliant eyes closed, a sort of spasm distorted her features, and she sank back once more, rigid and seemingly lifeless. Dr.
Asbury took the reins firmly in his hands, seated himself, and, speaking gently to the trembling horses, started homeward. They plunged violently at first, but he used the whip unsparingly, and in a few moments they trotted briskly along. Mrs. Graham and her niece had not yet reached home, but Mr. Graham met the carriage at the door, with considerable agitation and alarm in his usually phlegmatic countenance. As Cornelia's colorless face met his view, he threw up his hands, staggered back, and exclaimed: