She wept bitterly, and, more moved than he chose to appear, Eugene shaded his face with his fingers.  Beulah placed her hand on his shoulder, and continued falteringly: 

“Eugene, I am not afraid to tell you the unvarnished truth.  You may get angry, and think it is no business of mine to counsel you, who are older and master of your own fate; but when we were children I talked to you freely, and why should I not now?  True friendship strengthens with years, and shall I hesitate to speak to you of what gives me so much pain?  In a very few days you are to be married.  Eugene, if the wine-cup is dearer to you than your beautiful bride, what prospect of happiness has either of you?  I had hoped her influence would deter you from it, at least during her visit here; but if not then, how can her presence avail in future?  Oh, for Heaven’s sake! for Antoinette’s, for your own, quit the ranks of ruin you are in, and come back to temperance and honor.  You are bowing down Cornelia’s proud head in humiliation and sorrow.  Oh, Eugene, have mercy on yourself!”

He tried to look haughty and insulted, but it would not answer.  Her pale face, full of earnest, tearful entreaty, touched his heart, not altogether indurated by profligate associations.  He knew she had not given an exaggerated account; he had imagined that she would not hear of his revels; but certainly she told only the truth.  Yet he resolved not to admit the charge, and, shaking off her hand, answered proudly: 

“If I am the degraded character you flatteringly pronounce me, it should certainly render my society anything but agreeable to your fastidious taste.  I shall not soon forget your unmerited insults.”  He rose as he spoke.

“You are angry now, Eugene, because I have held up your own portrait for your inspection.  You are piqued because I tell you the truth.  But when all this has subsided, and you think the matter calmly over, you will be forced to acknowledge that only the purest friendship could prompt me to remonstrate with you on your ruinous career.  Of course, if you choose, you can soon wreck yourself; you are your own master; but the infatuation will recoil upon you.  Your disgrace and ruin will not affect me, save that, as your friend, I should mourn your fall.  Ah, Eugene, I have risked your displeasure—­ I have proved my friendship!”

He took his hat and turned toward the door; but she placed herself before it, and, holding out both hands, exclaimed sorrowfully: 

“Do not let us part in anger!  I am an orphan without relatives or protectors, and from early years you have been a kind brother.  At least, let us part as friends.  I know that in future we shall be completely alienated, but your friend Beulah will always rejoice to hear of your welfare and happiness; and if her warning words, kindly meant, have no effect, and she hears, with keen regret, of your final ruin, she at least will feel that she honestly and anxiously did all in her power to save you.  Good-by.  Shake hands, Eugene, and bear with you to the altar my sincere wishes for your happiness.”