"Poor little sufferer! they have made you drink, prematurely, earth's bitter draughts. They have disenchanted your childhood of its fairy-like future. Beulah, you are ill now. Do not struggle so. You must come with me, my child." He took her in his strong arms, and bore her out of the house of death. His buggy stood at the door, and, seating himself in it, he directed the boy who accompanied him to "drive home." Beulah offered no resistance; she hid her face in her hands, and sat quite still, scarcely conscious of what passed. She knew that a firm arm held her securely, and, save her wretchedness, knew nothing else. Soon she was lifted out of the buggy, carried up a flight of steps, and then a flood of light flashed through the fingers upon her closed eyelids. Dr. Hartwell placed his change on a sofa, and rank the bell. The summons was promptly answered by a negro woman of middle age. She stood at the door awaiting the order, but his eyes were bent on the floor, and his brows knitted. "Master, did you ring?" "Yes; tell my sister to come to me." He took a turn across the floor, and paused by the open window. As the night air rustled the brown locks on his temples, he sighed deeply. The door opened, and a tall, slender woman, of perhaps thirty-five years, entered the room. She was pale and handsome, with a profusion of short chestnut curls about her face. With her hand resting on the door, she said, in a calm, clear tone: "Well, Guy." He started, and, turning from the window, approached her. "May, I want a room arranged for this child as soon as possible. Will you see that a hot footbath is provided? When it is ready, send Harriet for her." His sister's lips curled as she looked searchingly at the figure on the sofa, and said coldly: "What freak now, Guy?" For a moment their eyes met steadily, and he smiled grimly. "I intend to adopt that poor little orphan; that is all!" "Where did you pick her up, at the hospital?" said she sneeringly. "No, she has been hired as a nurse, at a boarding house." He folded his arms, and again they looked at each other. "I thought you had had quite enough of protegees." She nervously clasped and unclasped her jet bracelet. "Take care, May Ohilton! Mark me. Lift the pall from the past once more, and you and Pauline must find another home, another protector. Now, will you see that a room is prepared as I directed?" He was very pale, and his eyes burned fiercely, yet his tone was calm and subdued. Mrs. Chilton bit her lips and withdrew. Dr. Hartwell walked up and down the room for a while, now and then looking sadly at the young stranger. She sat just as he had placed her, with her hands over her face. Kindly he bent down, and whispered: "Will you trust me, Beulah?"