Beulah Part 19

"Mrs. Williams, can I stay here with you until I can get a place somewhere? The managers will not object, will they?"

"No, dear; I suppose not. But, Beulah, I thought you had been adopted, just after Lilly died, by Dr. Hartwell? Here I have been, ever since I heard it from some of the managers, thinking how lucky it was for you, and feeling so thankful to G.o.d for remembering his orphans. Child, what has happened? Tell me freely, Beulah."

With her head on the matron's shoulder, she imparted enough of what had transpired to explain her leaving her adopted home. Mrs.

Williams shook her head, and said sadly:

"You have been too hasty, child. It was Dr. Hartwell's house; he had taken you to it, and, without consulting and telling him, you should not have left it. If you felt that you could not live there in peace with his sister, it was your duty to have told him so, and then decided as to what course you would take. Don't be hurt, child, if I tell you you are too proud. Poverty and pride make a bitter lot in this world; and take care you don't let your high spirit ruin your prospects. I don't mean to say, dear, that you ought to bear insult and oppression, but I do think you owed it to the doctor's kindness to have waited until his return before you quitted his house."

"Oh, you do not know him! If he knew all that Mrs. Chilton said and did he would turn her and Pauline out of the house immediately. They are poor, and, but for him, could not live without toil. I have no right to cause their ruin. She is his sister, and has a claim on him. I have none. She expects Pauline to inherit his fortune, and could not bear to think of his adopting me. I don't wonder at that so much. But she need not have been so cruel, so insulting. I don't want his money, or his house, or his elegant furniture. I only want an education, and his advice, and his kind care for a few years. I like Pauline very much indeed. She never treated me at all unkindly; and I could not bear to bring misfortune on her, she is so happy."

"That is neither here nor there. He will not hear the truth, of course; and, even if he did, he will not suppose you were actuated by any such Christian motives to shield his sister's meanness. You ought to have seen him first."

"Well, it is all over now, and I see I must help myself. I want to go to the public school, where the tuition is free; but how can I support myself in the meantime? Eighteen dollars would not board me long, and, besides, I shall have to buy clothes." She looked up, much perplexed, in the matron's anxious face. The latter was silent a moment, and then said:

"Why, the public school closes in a few weeks; the next session will not begin before autumn, and what could you do until then? No, I will just inform Dr. Hartwell of the truth of the whole matter. I think it is due him, and--"

"Indeed you must not! I promised Mrs. Chilton that I would not implicate her, and your doing it would amount to the same thing. I would not be the means of driving Pauline out of her uncle's house for all the gold in California!"

"Silly child! What on earth possessed you to promise any such thing?"

"I wanted her to see that I was honest in what I said. She knew that I could, by divulging the whole affair, turn her out of the house (for Dr. Hartwell's disposition is a secret to no one who has lived in his home), and I wished to show her that I told the truth in saying I only wanted to be educated for a teacher." "Suppose the doctor comes here and asks you about the matter?"

"I shall tell him that I prefer not being dependent on anyone. But he will not come. He does not know where I am."

Yet the dread that he would filled her mind with new anxieties.

"Well, well, it is no use to fret over what can't be undone. I wish I could help you, but I don't see any chance just now."

"Could not I get some plain sewing? Perhaps the managers would give me work?"

"Ah, Beulah, it would soon kill you, to have to sew for your living."

"No, no; I can bear more than you think," answered the girl, with a dreary smile.

"Yes; your spirit can endure more than your body. Your father died with consumption, child; but don't fret about it any more to-night.

Come, get some supper, and then go to sleep. You will stay in my room, with me, dear, till something can be done to a.s.sist you."

"Mrs. Williams, you must promise me that you never will speak of what I have told you regarding that conversation with Mrs. Chilton."

"I promise you, dear, I never will mention it, since you prefer keeping the matter secret."

"What will Dr. Hartwell think of me?" was the recurring thought that would not be banished; and, unable to sleep, Beulah tossed restlessly on her pillow all night, dreading lest he should despise her for her seeming ingrat.i.tude.

CHAPTER XI.

For perhaps two hours after Beulah's departure Mrs. Chilton wandered up and down the parlors, revolving numerous schemes explanatory of her unexpected exodus. Completely nonplused, for the first time in her life, she sincerely rued the expression of dislike and contempt which had driven the orphan from her adopted home; and, unable to decide on the most plausible solution to be offered her brother, she paced restlessly to and fro. Engrossed by no particularly felicitous reflections, she failed to notice Mazeppa's quick tramp, and remained in ignorance of the doctor's return until he entered the room, and stood beside her. His manner was hurried, his thoughts evidently preoccupied, as he said:

"May, I am going into the country to be absent all of tomorrow, and possibly longer. There is some surgical work to be performed for a careless hunter, and I must start immediately. I want you to see that a room is prepared for Percy Lockhart. He is very feeble, and I have invited him to come and stay with me while he is in the city.

He rode out this evening, and is worse from the fatigue. I shall expect you to see that everything is provided for him that an invalid could desire. Can I depend upon you?"

"Certainly; I will exert myself to render his stay here pleasant; make yourself easy on that score." It was very evident that the cloud was rapidly lifting from her heart and prospects; but she veiled the sparkle in her eye, and, unsuspicious of anything amiss, her brother left the room. Walking up to one of the mirrors, which extended from floor to ceiling, she surveyed herself carefully, and a triumphant smile parted her lips.

"Percy Lockhart is vulnerable as well as other people, and I have yet to see the man whose heart will proudly withstand the allurements of flattery, provided the homage is delicately and gracefully offered. Thank Heaven! years have touched me lightly, and there was more truth than she relished in what Julia Vincent said about my beauty!"

This self-complacent soliloquy was cut short by the appearance of her brother, who carried a case of surgical instruments in his hand.

"May, tell Beulah I am sorry I did not see her. I would go up and wake her, but have not time. She wished to ask me something. Tell her, if it is anything of importance, to do just as she likes; I will see about it when I come home. Be sure you tell her. Good- night; take care of Percy." He turned away, but she exclaimed:

"She is not here, Guy. She asked me this evening if she might spend the night at the asylum. She thought you would not object, and certainly I had no authority to prevent her. Indeed, the parlor was full of company, and I told her she might go if she wished. I suppose she will be back early in the morning."

His face darkened instantly, and she felt that he was searching her with his piercing eyes.

"All this sounds extremely improbable to me. If she is not at home again at breakfast, take the carriage and go after her. Mind, May! I will sift the whole matter when I come back." He hurried off, and she breathed freely once more. Dr. Hartwell sprang into his buggy, to which a fresh horse had been attached, and, dismissing Hal, whose weight would only have r.e.t.a.r.ded his progress, he drove rapidly off.

The gate had been left open for him, and he was pa.s.sing through, when arrested by Harriet's well-known voice.

"Stop, master! Stop a minute!"

"What do you want? I can't stop!" cried he impatiently.

"Are you going after that poor, motherless child?"

"No. But what the devil is to pay here! I shall get at the truth now. Where is Beulah? Talk fast."

"She is at the asylum to-night, sir. I followed and watched the poor little thing. Master, if you don't listen to me, if you please, sir, you never will get at the truth, for that child won't tell it. I heard her promise Miss May she would not. You would be ready to fight if you knew all I know."

"Why did Beulah leave here this evening?"

"Because Miss May abused and insulted her; told her before some ladies that she was a 'miserable beggar' that you picked up at the hospital, and that you thought it was charity to feed and clothe her till she was big enough to work. The ladies were in the front yard, and the child happened to be sitting by the fountain; she had just come from riding. I was sewing at one of the windows upstairs, sir, and heard every word. When the folks were gone Miss May walks up to her and asks her what she is doing where anybody could see her? Oh, master! if you could have seen that child's looks. She fairly seemed to rise off her feet, and her face was as white as a corpse. She said she had wanted an education; that she knew you had been very kind; hut she never dreamed of taking Miss Pauline's place in your house. She said she would not stay where she was unwelcome; that she was not starving when you took her home; that she knew you were kind and good; but that she scorned--them were the very words, master-- she scorned to stay a day longer where she had been so insulted! Oh, she was in a towering rage; she trembled all over, and Miss May began to be scared, for she knew you would not suffer such doings, and she tried to pacify her and make up the quarrel by telling her she might stay and have an education, if that was all she wanted.

But the girl would not hear to anything she said, and told her she need not be frightened, that she wouldn't go to you with the fuss; she would not tell you why she left your house. She went to her room and she got every rag of her old clothes, and left the house with the tears raining out of her eyes. Oh, master, it's a crying shame!

If you had only been here to hear that child talk to Miss May! Good Lord! how her big eyes did blaze when she told her she could earn a living!"

By the pale moonlight she could see that her master's face was rigid as steel; but his voice was even calmer than usual when he asked: "Are you sure she is now at the asylum?"

"Yes, sir; sure."

"Very well; she is safe then for the present. Does anyone know that you heard the conversation?"

"Not a soul, sir, except yourself."

"Keep the matter perfectly quiet till I come home. I shall be away a day, or perhaps longer. Meantime, see that Beulah does not get out of your sight. Do you understand me?"

"Yes, sir--I do."

The buggy rolled swiftly on, and Harriet returned to the house by a circuitous route, surmising that "Miss May's" eyes might detect her movements.