"Then you had better leave town as quick as possible, for folks who are easily scared always catch it soonest." "Nonsense!" cried Beulah, noting the deepening pallor of Clara's face. "Oh, I will warrant, if everybody else--every man, woman, and child in the city--takes it, you won't! Miss Beulah, I should like to know what you are afraid of!" muttered Harriet, scanning the orphan's countenance, and adding, in a louder tone: "Have you heard anything from master?" "No." Beulah bit her lips to conceal her emotion. "Hal hears from him. He was in New York when he wrote the last letter." She took a malicious pleasure in thus torturing her visitor; and, determined not to gratify her by any manifestation of interest or curiosity, Beulah took up a couple of volumes and turned to the door, saying: "Come, Clara, you must each have a bouquet. Harriet, where are the flower scissors? Dr. Hartwell never objected to my carefully cutting even his choicest flowers. There! Clara, listen to the cool rippling of the fountain. How I have longed to hear its silvery murmur once more!" They went out into the front yard. Clara wandered about the flower beds, gathering blossoms which were scattered in lavish profusion on all sides; and, leaning over the marble basin, Beulah bathed her brow in the crystal waters. There were bewitching beauty and serenity in the scene before her, and as Charon nestled his great head against her hand she found it very difficult to realize the fact that she had left this lovely retreat for the small room at Mrs. Hoyt's boarding house. It was not her habit, however, to indulge in repinings, and, though her ardent appreciation of beauty rendered the place incalculably dear to her, she resolutely gathered a cluster of flowers, bade adieu to Harriet, and descended the avenue. Charon walked soberly beside her, now and then looking up, as if to inquire the meaning of her long absence and wonder at her sudden departure. At the gate she patted him affectionately on the head and passed out; he made no attempt to follow her, but barked violently, and then lay down at the gate, whining mournfully. "Poor Charon! I wish I might have him," said she sadly. "I dare say the doctor would give him to you," answered Clara very simply. "I would just as soon think of asking him for his own head," replied Beulah. "It is a mystery to me, Beulah, how you can feel so coldly toward Dr. Hartwell." "I should very much like to know what you mean by that?" said Beulah, involuntarily crushing the flowers she held. "Why, you speak of him just as you would of anybody else." "Well?" "You seem to be afraid of him." "To a certain extent, I am; and so is everybody else who knows him intimately." "This fear is unjust to him." "How so, pray?" "Because he is too noble to do aught to inspire it." "Certainly he is feared, nevertheless, by all who know him well." "It seems to me that, situated as you have been, you would almost worship him!"