characters of their friends.  I tell you the dissipation of the young men here is sickening to think of.  Since I came home I have been constantly reminded of it; and oh, Eugene is following in their disgraceful steps!  Beulah, if the wives, and mothers, and sisters did their duty, all this might be remedied.  If they carefully and constantly strove to shield their sons and brothers from temptation they might preserve them from the fatal habit, which, once confirmed, it is almost impossible to eradicate.  But alas! they smile as sweetly upon the reckless, intoxicated beaux as if they were what men should be.  I fancied that I could readily redeem Eugene from his dangerous lapses, but my efforts are rendered useless by the temptations which assail him from every quarter.  He shuns me; hourly the barriers between us strengthen.  Beulah, I look to you.  He loves you, and your influence might prevail, if properly directed.  You must save him!  You must!”

“I have not the influence you ascribe to me,” answered Beulah.

“Do not say so! do not say so!  Are you not to be his wife one day?” She stood up, and heavy drops glistened on her pale forehead.

“His wife!  Cornelia Graham, are you mad?” cried Beulah, lifting her head proudly, and eying her companion with unfeigned astonishment, while her eyes burned ominously.

“He told me that he expected to marry you; that it had always been a settled thing.  Beulah, you have not broken the engagement—­surely you have not?” She grasped Beulah’s arm convulsively.

“No positive engagement ever existed.  While we were children we often spoke of our future as one, but of late neither of us has alluded to the subject.  We are only friends, linked by memories of early years.  Nay, since his return, we have almost become strangers.”

“Then I have been miserably deceived.  Not two months since, he told me that he looked upon you as his future wife.  What has alienated you?  Beulah Benton, do you not love him?”

“Love him!  No!”

“You loved him once—­hush! don’t deny it!  I know that you did.  You loved him during his absence, and you must love him still.  Beulah, you do love him!”

“I have a true sisterly affection for him; but as for the love which you allude to, I tell you, Cornelia, I have not one particle!”

“Then he is lost!” Sinking back in her chair, Cornelia groaned aloud.

“Why Eugene should have made such an impression on your mind, I cannot conjecture.  He has grown perfectly indifferent to me; and even if he had not, we could never be more than friends.  Boyish fancies have all passed away.  He is a man now—­still my friend, I believe; but no longer what he once was to me.  Cornelia, I, too, see his growing tendency to dissipation, with a degree of painful apprehension which I do not hesitate to avow.  Though cordial enough when we meet, I know and feel that he carefully avoids me.  Consequently, I have no opportunity