Beulah looked grave and troubled, but made no reply.

Mrs. Asbury finished packing the trunk, locked it, and, turning
toward the door, said: "I am going upstairs to see about the furniture in that room which
Georgia calls the 'Pitti Gallery.' Come with me, my dear."

She led the way, and Beulah followed, until they reached a large
apartment in the third story, the door of which Mrs. Asbury
unlocked. As they entered Beulah started on seeing the statuary and
paintings with which she was so familiar in former years; and in one
corner of the room stood the melodeon, carefully covered. A quantity
of tissue paper lay on the floor, and Mrs. Asbury began to cover the
paintings by pinning the sheets together. Beulah took off her gloves
and assisted; there was silence for some time; but, on lifting a
piece of drapery, Mrs. Asbury exposed the face of a portrait which
Beulah recognized, from the peculiarity of the frame, as the one
that had hung over the mantel in her guardian's study. Paper and
pins fell from her fingers, and, drawing a deep breath, she gazed
upon the face she had so long desired to see. She traced a slight
resemblance to Antoinette in the faultless features; the countenance
was surpassingly beautiful. It was a young, girlish face, sparkling
with joyousness, bewitching in its wonderful loveliness. The
eloquent eyes were strangely, almost wildly, brilliant, the full
crimson lips possessed that rare outline one sees in old pictures,
and the cheek, tinted like a sea-shell, rested on one delicate,
dimpled hand. Beulah looked, and grew dizzy. This was his wife; this
the portrait he had kept shrouded so long and so carefully. How he
must have worshiped that radiant young bride!