“I promise you she shall have it if I live twelve hours longer.”

“Then I want five thousand more given to the orphan asylum.  Give it in your own name.  You only have the right to give.  Don’t have my name mentioned in the matter.  Will you promise me this also?”

“Yes; it shall all be done.  Is there anything else?”

“Thank you, that is all, as regards money matters.  Raise my pillow a little; there, that will do.  Father, can’t you do something to save Eugene?  You must see now how reckless he is growing.”

“Recently I have expostulated with him, and he seemed disposed to reform his habits.  Acknowledged that his associations had been injurious, and regretted the excesses into which he had been led.  He has been rather wild since he came from college; but I think, now he is married, he will sober down.  That is one reason why I encouraged his marrying so early.  Intemperance is his only fault, and I trust his good sense will soon lead him to correct it.”  A smothered sigh concluded the sentence.

“Father, Antoinette is not the woman to reform him.  Don’t trust to her influence; if you do, Eugene will be ruined.  Watch over him closely yourself; try to win him away from the haunts of dissipation; I tell you now his wife will never do it.  She has duped you and my mother as to her character, but you will find that she is as utterly heartless as her own mother was.  I always opposed the match, because I probed her mask of dissimulation, and knew Eugene could not be happy with her.  But the mistake is irretrievable, and it only remains for you to watch him the more carefully.  Lift me, father; I can’t breathe easily.  There is the doctor on the steps; I am too tired to talk any more to-day.”

One week later, as Beulah was spending her Sabbath evening in her own apartment, she was summoned to see her friend for the last time.  It was twilight when she reached Mr. Graham’s house and glided noiselessly up the thickly carpeted stairway.  The bells were all muffled, and a solemn stillness reigned over the mansion.  She left her bonnet and shawl in the hall, and softly entered the chamber unannounced.  Unable to breathe in a horizontal position, Cornelia was bolstered up in her easychair.  Her mother sat near her, with her face hid on her husband’s bosom.  Dr. Hartwell leaned against the mantel, and Eugene stood on the hearth opposite him, with his head bowed down on his hands.  Cornelia drew her breath in quick gasps, and cold drops glistened on her pallid face.  Her sunken eyes wandered over the group, and when Beulah drew near she extended her hands eagerly, while a shadowy smile passed swiftly over her sharpened features.

“Beulah, come close to me—­close.”  She grasped her hands tightly, and Beulah knelt at the side of her chair.