Part 49 (1/2)
”Ah, but it has improved incredibly. You were all untutored then.”
”It is the culture, then, not the voice itself? Eh, Eugene?”
”It is both. Who taught you?”
”I had several teachers, but owe what excellence I may possess to my guardian. He aided me more than all the instruction books that ever were compiled.”
”You must come and practice with the musical people who meet here very frequently,” said Mrs. Graham.
”Thank you, madam; I have other engagements which will prevent my doing so.”
”Nonsense, Beulah; we have claims on you. I certainly have,”
answered Eugene.
”Have you? I was not aware of the fact.”
There was a patronizing manner in all this which she felt no disposition to submit to.
”Most a.s.suredly I have, Beulah; and mean to maintain them.”
She perfectly understand the haughty expression of his countenance, and, moving toward the door, replied coldly:
”Another time, Eugene, we will discuss them.”
”Where are you going?” inquired Mrs. Graham rather stiffly.
”To Cornelia. The doctor came down a few minutes since.”
She did not pause to hear what followed, but ran up the steps, longing to get out of a house where she plainly perceived her presence was by no means desired. Cornelia sat with her head drooped on her thin hand, and, without looking up, said, more gently than was her custom:
”Why did you hurry back so soon?”
”Because the parlor was not particularly attractive.”
There came the first good-humored laugh which Beulah had ever heard from Cornelia's lips, as the latter replied:
”What friends you and old growling Diogenes would have been! Pray, how did my cousin receive your performance!”
”Very much as if she wished me amid the ruins of Persepolis, where I certainly shall be before I inflict anything more upon her.
Cornelia, do not ask or expect me to come here again, for I will not; of course, it is quite as palpable to you as to me that I am no favorite with your parents, and something still less with your cousin. Consequently, you need not expect to see me here again.”
”Do not say so, Beulah; you must, you shall come, and I will see that no one dares interfere with my wishes. As for Antoinette, she is simply a vain idiot; you might just as well be told the truth, for doubtless you will see it for yourself. She is my mother's niece, an only child, and possessed of considerable wealth. I suppose it is rather natural that my parents should fondle the idea of her being Eugene's wife. They do not see how utterly unsuited they are. Eugene will, of course, inherit the fortune which I once imagined I should have the pleasure of squandering. My father and mother dread lest Eugene should return to his 'boyish fancy' (as you are pleased to term it), and look on you with jealous eyes. Oh, Mammon is the G.o.d of this generation. But, Beulah, you must not allow all this miserable maneuvering to keep you from me. If you do, I will very soon succeed in making this home of mine very unpleasant for Antoinette Dupres. When I am dead she can wheedle my family as successfully as they choose to permit; but while I do live she shall forbear. Poor, contemptible human nature! Verily, I rejoice sometimes when I remember that I shall not be burdened with any of it long.” An angry spot burned on each pallid cheek, and the beautiful mouth curled scornfully.
”Do not excite yourself so unnecessarily, Cornelia. What you may or may not think of your relatives is no concern of mine. You have a carriage always at your command, and when you desire to see a real friend, you can visit me. Let this suffice for this subject. Suppose we have a game of chess or backgammon? What do you say?”
She wheeled a light table toward the hearth; but the invalid motioned it away, and answered moodily:
”I am in no humor for games. Sit down and tell me about your leaving Dr. Hartwell's protection.”
”I have nothing to tell.”