Love stories; Orphans -- Fiction; Southern States -- Fiction; Women -- Fiction
"Beulah, I congratulate you on your signal success to-day. Your
valedictory made me proud of my protegee." She had put her hand in
his, and looked up in his face, but the cloudy splendor of the eyes
was more than she could bear, and drooping her head a little, she
answered:
"Thank you."
"You have vacation for two months?"
"Yes, sir; and then my duties commence. Here is the certificate of
my election." She offered it for inspection; but, without noticing
it, he continued:
"Beulah, I think you owe me something for taking care of you, as you
phrased it long ago at the asylum. Do you admit the debt?"
"Most gratefully, sir! I admit that I can never liquidate it: I can
repay you only with the most earnest gratitude." Large tears hung
upon her lashes, and, with an uncontrollable impulse, she raised his
hand to her lips.
"I am about to test the sincerity of your gratitude, I doubt it."
She trembled, and looked at Mm uneasily. He laid his hand on her
shoulder, and said slowly:
"Relinquish the idea of teaching. Let me present you to society as
my adopted child. Thus you can requite the debt."
"I cannot! I cannot!" cried Beulah firmly, though tears gushed over
her cheeks.
"Cannot? cannot?" repeated the doctor, pressing heavily upon her
shoulders.
"Will not, then!" said she proudly.
They looked at each other steadily. A withering smile of scorn and
bitterness distorted his Apollo-like features, and he pushed her
from him, saying, in the deep, concentrated tone of intense
disappointment:
"I might have known it. I might have expected it; for Fate has
always decreed me just such returns."
Leaning against the sculptured Niobe, which stood near, Beulah
exclaimed, in a voice of great anguish:
"Oh, Dr. Hartwell! do not make me repent the day I entered this
house. God knows I am grateful, very grateful, for your unparalleled
kindness. Oh, that it were in my power to prove to you my gratitude!
Do not upbraid me. You knew that I came here only to be educated.
Even then I could not bear the thought of always imposing on your
generosity; and every day that passed strengthened this impatience
of dependence. Through your kindness it is now in my power to
maintain myself, and, after the opening of next session, I cannot
remain any longer the recipient of your bounty. Oh, sir, do not
charge me with ingratitude! It is more than I can bear; more than I
can bear!"
"Mark me, Beulah! Your pride will wreck you; wreck your happiness,
your peace of mind. Already its iron hand is crushing your young
heart. Beware lest, in yielding to its decrees, you become the
hopeless being a similar course has rendered me. Beware! But why
should I warn you? Have not my prophecies ever proved Cassandran?
Leave me."
"No, I will not leave you in anger." She drew near him and took his
hand in both hers. The fingers were cold and white as marble, rigid
and inflexible as steel.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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