"I don't understand the half of what you have been saying, It sounds to me very much as if you had stumbled into a lumber room of queer ideas; snatched up a handful, all on different subjects, and woven them into a speech as incongruous as Joseph's variegated coat." There was no reply. Beulah's hands were clasped on the table before her, and she leaned forward with eyes fixed steadily on the floor. Clara waited a moment, and then continued: "I never noticed any of the mysteries of 'Manfred' that seem to trouble you so much. I enjoy the fine passages, and never think of the hidden meanings, as you call them; whereas it seems you are always plunging about in the dark, hunting you know not what. I am content to glide on the surface, and--" "And live in the midst of foam and bubbles!" cried Beulah, with a gesture of impatience. "Better that than grope among subterranean caverns, black and icy, as you are forever doing. You are even getting a weird, unearthly look. Sometimes, when I come in and find you, book in hand, with that far-off expression in your eyes, I really dislike to speak to you. There is no more color in your face and hands than in that wall yonder. You will dig your grave among books, if you don't take care. There is such a thing as studying too much. Your mind is perpetually at work; all day you are thinking, thinking, thinking; and at night, since the warm weather has made me open the door between our rooms, I hear you talking earnestly and rapidly in your sleep. Last week I came in on tiptoe, and stood a few minutes beside your bed. The moon shone in through the window, and though you were fast asleep, I saw that you tossed your hands restlessly; while I stood there you spoke aloud, in an incoherent manner, of the 'Dream Fugue,' and 'Vision of Sudden Death,' and now and then you frowned, and sighed heavily, as if you were in pain. Music is a relaxation to most people, but it seems to put your thoughts on the rack. You will wear yourself out prematurely if you don't quit this constant studying." She rose to go, and, glancing up at her, Beulah answered musingly: