Ver.10/04/01*END*
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BEULAH
BY
AUGUSTA J. EVANS
Author of "Inez," "St. Elmo," "Infelice," "At the Mercy of
Tiberius," "Vashti," etc.
"With that gloriole
Of ebon hair, on calmed brows."
TO MY AUNT
MRS. SEABORN JONES
OF GEORGIA
I DEDICATE THIS BOOK
AS A FEEBLE TRIBUTE OF AFFECTION
AND GRATITUDE
BEULAH
CHAPTER I.
A January sun had passed the zenith, and the slanting rays flamed
over the window panes of a large brick building, bearing on its
front in golden letters the inscription "Orphan Asylum." The
structure was commodious, and surrounded by wide galleries, while
the situation offered a silent tribute to the discretion and good
sense of the board of managers who selected the suburbs instead of
the more densely populated portion of the city. The whitewashed
palings inclosed, as a front yard or lawn, rather more than an acre
of ground, sown in grass and studded with trees, among which the
shelled walks meandered gracefully. A long avenue of elms and
poplars extended from the gate to the principal entrance, and
imparted to the Asylum an imposing and venerable aspect. There was
very little shrubbery, but here and there orange boughs bent beneath
their load of golden fruitage, while the glossy foliage, stirred by
the wind, trembled and glistened in the sunshine. Beyond the
inclosure stretched the common, dotted with occasional clumps of
pine and leafless oaks, through which glimpses of the city might be
had. Building and grounds wore a quiet, peaceful, inviting look,
singularly appropriate for the purpose designated by the inscription
"Orphan Asylum," a haven for the desolate and miserable. The front
door was closed, but upon the broad granite steps, where the
sunlight lay warm and tempting, sat a trio of the inmates. In the
foreground was a slight fairy form, "a wee winsome thing," with
coral lips, and large, soft blue eyes, set in a frame of short,
clustering golden curls. She looked about six years old, and was
clad, like her companions, in canary-colored flannel dress and blue-
check apron. Lillian was the pet of the asylum, and now her rosy
cheek rested upon her tiny white palm, as though she wearied of the
picture-book which lay at her feet. The figure beside her was one
whose marvelous beauty riveted the gaze of all who chanced to see
her. The child could have been but a few months older than Lillian,
yet the brilliant black eyes, the peculiar curve of the dimpled
mouth, and long, dark ringlets, gave to the oval face a maturer and
more piquant loveliness. The cast of Claudia's countenance bespoke
her foreign parentage, and told of the warm, fierce Italian blood
that glowed in her cheeks. There was fascinating grace in every
movement, even in the easy indolence of her position, as she bent on
one knee to curl Lillian's locks over her finger. On the upper step,
in the rear of these two, sat a girl whose age could not have been
very accurately guessed from her countenance, and whose features
contrasted strangely with those of her companions. At a first casual
glance, one thought her rather homely, nay, decidedly ugly; yet, to
the curious physiognomist, this face presented greater attractions
than either of the others. Reader, I here paint you the portrait of
that quiet little figure whose history is contained in the following
pages. A pair of large gray eyes set beneath an overhanging
forehead, a boldly projecting forehead, broad and smooth; a rather
large but finely cut mouth, an irreproachable nose, of the order
furthest removed from aquiline, and heavy black eyebrows, which,
instead of arching, stretched straight across and nearly met. There
was not a vestige of color in her cheeks; face, neck, and hands wore
a sickly pallor, and a mass of rippling, jetty hair, drawn smoothly
over the temples, rendered this marble-like whiteness more apparent.
Unlike the younger children, Beulah was busily sewing upon what
seemed the counterpart of their aprons; and the sad expression of
the countenance, the lips firmly compressed, as if to prevent the
utterance of complaint, showed that she had become acquainted with
cares and sorrows, of which they were yet happily ignorant. Her eyes
were bent down on her work, and the long, black lashes nearly
touched her cold cheeks.
"Sister Beulah, ought Claudy to say that?" cried Lillian, turning
round and laying her hand upon the piece of sewing.
"Say what, Lilly? I was not listening to you."
"She said she hoped that largest robin redbreast would get drunk and
tumble down. He would be sure to bump some of his pretty bright
feathers out, if he rolled over the shells two or three times,"
answered Lilly, pointing to a China tree near, where a flock of
robins were eagerly chirping over the feast of berries.
"Why, Claudy! how can you wish the poor little fellow such bad
luck?" The dark, thoughtful eyes, full of deep meaning, rested on
Claudia's radiant face.
"Oh! you need not think I am a bear, or a hawk, ready to swallow the
darling little beauty alive! I would not have him lose a feather for
the world; but I should like the fun of seeing him stagger and wheel
over and over, and tumble off the limb, so that I might run and
catch him in my apron. Do you think I would give him to our matron
to make a pie? No, you might take off my fingers first!" And the
little elf snapped them emphatically in Beulah's face.
"Make a pie of robies, indeed! I would starve before I would eat a
piece of it," chimed in Lilly, with childish horror at the thought.
Claudia laughed with mingled mischief and chagrin. "You say you
would not eat a bit of roby-pie to save your life? Well, you did it
last week, anyhow."
"Oh, Claudy, I didn't!"
"Oh, but you did! Don't you remember Susan picked up a bird last
week that fell out of this very tree, and gave it to our matron?
Well, didn't we have bird-pie for dinner?"
"Yes, but one poor little fellow would not make a pie."
"They had some birds already that came from the market, and I heard
Mrs. Williams tell Susan to put it in with the others. So, you see,
you did eat roby-pie, and I didn't, for I knew what was in it. I saw
its head wrung off!"
"Well, I hope I did not get any of roby. I won't eat any more pie
till they have all gone," was Lilly's consolatory reflection.
Chancing to glance toward the gate, she exclaimed:
"There is a carriage."
"What is to-day? Let me see--Wednesday. Yes, this is the evening for
the ladies to meet here. Lil, is my face right clean? because that
red-headed Miss Dorothy always takes particular pains to look at it.
She rubbed her pocket-handkerchief over it the other day. I do hate
her, don't you?" cried Claudia, springing up and buttoning the band
of her apron sleeve, which had become unfastened.
"Why, Claudy, I am astonished to hear you talk so. Miss Dorothy
helps to buy food and clothes for us, and you ought to be ashamed to
speak of her as you do." As she delivered this reprimand Beulah
snatched up a small volume and hid it in her work-basket.
"I don't believe she gives us much. I do hate her, and I can't help
it; she is so ugly, and cross, and vinegar-faced. I should not like
her to look at my mug of milk. You don't love her either, any more
than I do, only you won't say anything about her. But kiss me, and I
promise I will be good, and not make faces at her in my apron."
Beulah stooped down and warmly kissed the suppliant, then took her
little sister's hand and led her into the house, just as the
carriage reached the door. The children presented a pleasant
spectacle as they entered the long dining room, and ranged
themselves for inspection. Twenty-eight heirs of orphanage, varying
in years, from one crawling infant to well-nigh grown girls, all
neatly clad, and with smiling, contented faces, if we except one
grave countenance, which might have been remarked by the close
observer.
The weekly visiting committee consisted of four of the lady
managers, but to-day the number was swelled to six. A glance at the
inspectors sufficed to inform Beulah that something of more than
ordinary interest had convened them on the present occasion, and she
was passing on to her accustomed place when her eyes fell upon a
familiar face, partially concealed by a straw bonnet. It was her
Sabbath-school teacher. A sudden, glad light flashed over the girl's
countenance, and the pale lips disclosed a set of faultlessly
beautiful teeth, as she smiled and hastened to her friend.
"How do you do, Mrs. Mason? I am so glad to see you!"
"Thank you, Beulah; I have been promising myself this pleasure a
great while. I saw Eugene this morning, and told him I was coming
out. He sent you a book and a message. Here is the book. You are to
mark the passages you like particularly, and study them well until
he comes. When did you see him last?"
Mrs. Mason put the volume in her hand as she spoke.
"It has been more than a week since he was here, and I was afraid he
was sick. He is very kind and good to remember the book he promised
me, and I thank you very much, Mrs. Mason, for bringing it." The
face was radiant with newborn joy, but it all died out when Miss
Dorothea White (little Claudia's particular aversion) fixed her pale
blue eyes upon her, and asked, in a sharp, discontented tone:
"What ails that girl, Mrs. Williams? She does not work enough or she
would have some blood in her cheeks. Has she been sick?"
"No, madam, she has not been sick exactly; but somehow she never
looks strong and hearty like the others. She works well enough.
There is not a better or more industrious girl in the asylum; but I
rather think she studies too much. She will sit up and read of
nights, when the others are all sound asleep; and very often, when
Kate and I put out the hall lamp, we find her with her book alone in
the cold. I can't get my consent to forbid her reading, especially
as it never interferes with her regular work, and she is so fond of
it." As the kind-hearted matron uttered these words she glanced at
the child and sighed involuntarily. "You are too indulgent, Mrs.
Williams; we cannot afford to feed and clothe girls of her age, to
wear themselves out reading trash all night. We are very much in
arrears at best, and I think some plan should be adopted to make
these large girls, who have been on hand so long, more useful. What
do you say, ladies?" Miss Dorothea looked around for some
encouragement and support in her move.
"Well, for my part, Miss White, I think that child is not strong
enough to do much hard work; she always has looked delicate and
pale," said Mrs. Taylor, an amiable-looking woman, who had taken one
of the youngest orphans on her knee.
"My dear friend, that is the very reason. She does not exercise
sufficiently to make her robust. Just look at her face and hands, as
bloodless as a turnip."
"Beulah, do ask her to give you some of her beautiful color; she
looks exactly like a cake of tallow, with two glass beads in the
middle--"
"Hush!" and Beulah's hand was pressed firmly over Claudia's crimson
lips, lest the whisper of the indignant little brunette should reach
ears for which it was not intended.
As no one essayed to answer Miss White, the matron ventured to
suggest a darling scheme of her own.
"I have always hoped the managers would conclude to educate her for
a teacher. She is so studious, I know she would learn very rapidly."
"My dear madam, you do not in the least understand what you are
talking about. It would require at least five years' careful
training to fit her to teach, and our finances do not admit of any
such expenditure. As the best thing for her, I should move to bind
her out to a mantua-maker or milliner, but she could not stand the
confinement. She would go off with consumption in less than a year.
There is the trouble with these delicate children."
"How is the babe that was brought here last week?" asked Mrs.
Taylor.
"Oh, he is doing beautifully. Bring him round the table, Susan," and
the rosy, smiling infant was handed about for closer inspection. A
few general inquiries followed, and then Beulah was not surprised to
hear the order given for the children to retire, as the managers had
some especial business with their matron. The orphan band defiled
into the hall, and dispersed to their various occupations, but
Beulah approached the matron, and whispered something, to which the
reply was:
"No; if you have finished that other apron, you shall sew no more
to-day. You can pump a fresh bucket of water, and then run out into
the yard for some air."
She performed the duty assigned to her, and then hastened to the
dormitory, whither Lillian and Claudia had preceded her. The latter
was standing on a chair, mimicking Miss Dorothea, and haranguing her
sole auditor, in a nasal twang, which she contrived to force from
her beautiful, curling lips. At sight of Beulah she sprang toward
her, exclaiming:
"You shall be a teacher if you want to, shan't you, Beulah?"
"I am afraid not, Claudy. But don't say any more about her; she is
not as kind as our dear matron, or some of the managers, but she
thinks she is right. Remember, she made these pretty blue curtains
round your and Lilly's bed."
"I don't care if she did. All the ladies were making them, and she
did no more than the rest. Never mind; I shall be a young lady some
of these days,--our matron says I will be beautiful enough to marry
the President,--and then I will see whether Miss Dorothy Red-head
comes meddling and bothering you any more." The brilliant eyes
dilated with pleasure at the thought of the protection which the
future lady-President would afford her protegee.
Beulah smiled, and asked almost gayly:
"Claudy, how much will you pay me a month, to dress you and keep
your hair in order, when you get into the White House at
Washington?"
"Oh, you dear darling! you shall have everything you want, and do
nothing but read." The impulsive child threw her arms around
Beulah's neck, and kissed her repeatedly, while the latter bent down
over her basket.
"Lilly, here are some chinquapins for you and Olaudy. I am going out
into the yard, and you may both go and play hull-gull."
In the debating room of the visiting committee Miss White again had
the floor. She was no less important a personage than vice president
of the board of managers, and felt authorized to investigate closely
and redress all grievances.
"Who did you say sent that book here, Mrs. Mason?"
"Eugene Rutland, who was once a member of Mrs. Williams' orphan
charge in this asylum. Mr. Graham adopted him, and he is now known
as Eugene Graham. He is very much attached to Beulah, though I
believe they are not at all related."
"He left the asylum before I entered the board. What sort of boy is
he? I have seen him several times, and do not particularly fancy
him."
"Oh, madam, he is a noble boy! It was a great trial to me to part
with him three years ago. He is much older than Beulah, and loves
her as well as if she were his sister," said the matron, more
hastily than was her custom, when answering any of the managers.
"I suppose he has put this notion of being a teacher into her head.
Well, she must get it out, that is all. I know of an excellent
situation, where a lady is willing to pay six dollars a month for a
girl of her age to attend to an infant, and I think we must secure
it for her."
"Oh, Miss White! she is not able to carry a heavy child always in
her arms," expostulated Mrs. Williams.
"Yes, she is. I will venture to say she looks all the better for it
at the month's end." The last sentence, fraught with interest to
herself, fell upon Beulah's ear, as she passed through the hall, and
an unerring intuition told her "You are the one." She put her hands
over her ears to shut out Miss Dorothea's sharp tones, and hurried
away, with a dim foreboding of coming evil, which pressed heavily
upon her young heart.