The triumph of faith shone in her kindled eyes, though glittering
drops fell on the ivory keys, and the whole countenance bespoke a
heart resting in the love of the Father. While her fingers still
rolled waves of melody through the room, Dr. Hartwell entered, with
a parcel in one hand and a magnificent cluster of greenhouse flowers
in the other. He laid the latter before Beulah, and said: "I want you to go with me to-night to hear Sontag. The concert
commences at eight o'clock, and you have no time to spare. Here are
some flowers for your hair; arrange it as you have it now; and here,
also, a pair of white gloves. When you are ready, come down and make
my tea."

"Thank you, sir, for remembering me so kindly, and supplying all my
wants so--"

"Beulah, there are tears on your lashes. What is the matter?"
interrupted the doctor, pointing to the drops which had fallen on
the rosewood frame of the melodeon.

"Is it not enough to bring tears to my eyes when I think of all your
kindness?" She hurried away without suffering him to urge the
matter.

The prospect of hearing Sontag gave her exquisite pleasure, and she
dressed with trembling eagerness, while Harriet leaned on the bureau
and wondered what would happen next. Except to attend church and
visit Clara and Mrs. Williams, Beulah had never gone out before; and
the very seclusion in which she lived rendered this occasion one of
interest and importance. As she took her cloak and ran downstairs
the young heart throbbed violently. Would her fastidious guardian be
satisfied with her appearance? She felt the blood gush over her face
as she entered the room; but he did not look at her, continued to
read the newspaper he held, and said, from behind the extended
sheet: "I will join you directly."