"Come, tell me what you have been doing with yourself these long five years, which have changed you so. I have heard already of your heroism in nursing the sick, during the late awful season of pestilence and death." For an hour they talked on indifferent themes, each feeling that the other was veiling the true impulses of the heart, and finally Eugene rose to go. "How is Cornelia's health now?" asked Beulah, as they stood up before the fire. "About the same. She never complains, but does not look like herself. Apropos! she intrusted a note to me, for you, which I had quite forgotten. Here it is. Miss Dupres is with her for the winter; at least, a part of it. Cornelia will come and see you in a day or two, she requested me to say; and I do hope, Beulah, that you will visit her often; she has taken a great fancy to you." "How long since?" answered Beulah, with an incredulous smile. "Since she met you at a concert, I believe. By the way, we are very musical at our house, and promise ourselves some delightful evenings this winter. You must hear Antoinette Dupres sing; she is equal to the best prima-donna of Italy. Do you practice much?" "Yes." "Well, I must go. When shall I see you again?" "Whenever you feel disposed to come; and I hope that will be often. Eugene, you were a poor correspondent; see that you prove a better visitor." "Yes, I will. I have a thousand things to say, but scarcely know where to commence. You are always at home in the evenings, I suppose?" "Yes: except occasionally when I am with the Asburys." "Do you see much of them?" "Yes; a good deal." "I am glad to hear it; they move in the very first circle. Now, Beulah, don't be offended if I ask what is the matter with Dr. Hartwell? How did you displease him?" "Just as I displeased you; by deciding to teach. Eugene, it pains me very much that he should treat me as he does, but it is utterly out of my power to rectify the evil." "He told me that he knew nothing of your movements or plans. I wish, for your sake, you could be reconciled." "We will be some day. I must wait patiently," said she, with a sigh. "Beulah, I don't like that troubled look about your mouth. What is the matter? Can I in any way remove it? It is connected with me, even remotely? My dear Beulah, do not shrink from me." "Nothing is the matter that you can rectify," said she gravely. "Something is the matter, then, which I may not know?" "Yes." "And you will not trust me?" "It is not a question of trust, Eugene." "You think I cannot help you?"