Love stories; Orphans -- Fiction; Southern States -- Fiction; Women -- Fiction
congratulated her warmly on the success of her valedictory effort,
and suggested the propriety of cultivating talents which might
achieve for her an enviable distinction. She bowed in silence, and
turned away to collect her books. Her guardian approached, and said
in a low voice:
"Put on your bonnet and come down to the side gate. It is too warm
for you to walk home."
Without waiting for her answer, he descended the steps, and she was
soon seated beside him in the buggy. The short ride was silent, and,
on reaching home, Beulah would have gone, immediately to her room,
but the doctor called her into the study and, as he rang the bell,
said gently:
"You look very much exhausted; rest here, while I order a glass of
wine."
It was speedily brought, and, having iced it, he held it to her
white lips. She drank the contents, and her head sank on the sofa
cushions. The fever of excitement was over, a feeling of lassitude
stole over her, and she soon lost all consciousness in a heavy
sleep. The sun was just setting as she awakened from her slumber,
and, sitting up, she soon recalled the events of the day. The
evening breeze, laden with perfume, stole in refreshingly through
the blinds, and, as the sunset pageant faded, and darkness crept on,
she remained on the sofa, pondering her future course. The lamp and
her guardian made their appearance at the same moment, and, throwing
himself down in one corner of the sofa, the latter asked: "How are
you since your nap? A trifle less ghastly, I see."
"Much better, thank you, sir. My head is quite clear again."
"Clear enough to make out a foreign letter?" He took one from his
pocket and put it in her hand.
An anxious look flitted across her face, and she glanced rapidly
over the contents, then crumpled the sheet nervously in her fingers.
"What is the matter now?"
"He is coming home. They will all be here in November." She spoke as
if bitterly chagrined and disappointed.
"Most people would consider that joyful news," said the doctor
quietly.
"What! after spending more than five years (one of them in
traveling), to come back without having acquired a profession and
settle down into a mere walking ledger! To have princely advantages
at his command, and yet throw them madly to the winds and be content
to plod along the road of mercantile life, without one spark of
ambition, when his mental endowments would justify his aspiring to
the most exalted political stations in the land."
Her voice trembled from intensity of feeling.
"Take care how you disparage mercantile pursuits; some of the most
masterly minds of the age were nurtured in the midst of ledgers."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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