One of his long- drawn sighs arrested Beulah's attention, and she said kindly: "What is the matter, brother mine? Are you tired of watching my
clumsy fingers? Shall I finish that essay of Macaulay's you were so
much interested in yesterday, or will you have another of Bryant's
poems?" She laid down her pencil, quite ready to divert his mind by
reading.

"No; do not quit your drawing; I should not enjoy even Macaulay to-
day."

He threw his head back, and sighed again.

"Why, Eugene? Don't you feel as well as usual this morning? Remember
your family will arrive to-day; you should be the happiest man
living."

"Oh, Beulah! don't mock me. I cannot bear it. My life seems a
hopeless blank."

"You ought not to talk so despondingly; you have everything to live
for. House your energies. Be indeed a man. Conquer this weak,
repining spirit. Don't you remember the motto on the tombstone at
St. Gilgen?

"'Look not mournfully on the past--it comes not back;
Enjoy the present--it is thine.
Go forth to meet the shadowy future
With a manly heart, and without fear.'"

"You know little of what oppresses me. It is the knowledge of my--of
Antoinette's indifference which makes the future so joyless, so
desolate. Beulah, this has caused my ruin. When I stood by
Cornelia's coffin, and recalled her last frantic appeal; when I
looked down at her cold face, and remembered her devoted love for
her unworthy brother, I vowed never to touch wine again; to absent
myself from the associates who had led me to dissipation. Beulah, I
was honest, and intended to reform from that hour. But Antoinette's
avowed coldness, or, to call it by its proper name, heartless
selfishness and fondness for admiration, first disgusted and then
maddened me. I would have gladly spent my evenings quietly, in our
elegant home; but she contrived to have it crowded with visitors as
soulless and frivolous as herself. I remonstrated; she was sneering,
defiant, and unyielding, and assured me she would 'amuse' herself as
she thought proper; I followed her example, and went back to the
reckless companions who continually beset my path. I was miserably
deceived in Antoinette's character. She was very beautiful, and I
was blind to her mental, nay, I may as well say it at once, her
moral, defects. I believed she was warmly attached to me, and I
loved her most devotedly. But no sooner were we married than I
discovered my blind rashness. Cornelia warned me; but what man,
fascinated by a beautiful girl, ever listened to counsels that
opposed his heart? Antoinette is too intensely selfish to love
anything or anybody but herself; she does not even love her child.
Strange as it may seem, she is too entirely engrossed by her weak
fondness for display and admiration even to caress her babe. Except
at breakfast and dinner we rarely meet, and then, unless company is
present (which is generally the case), our intercourse is studiedly
cold. Do you wonder that I am hopeless in view of a life passed with
such a companion? Oh, that I could blot out the last two years of my
existence!"