ELSIE'S WIDOWHOOD A SEQUEL TO " ELSIE'S CHILDREN " BY MARTHA FINLEY 'Alone she wanders where with HIM she trod, No arm to stay her, but she leans on God." O. W. HOLMES NEW YORK DODD, MEAD AND COMPANY PUBLISHERS COPYRIGHT, 1880, 1908, BY DODD, MEAD & COMPANY PEEFAOE. IT was not in my heart to give to my favorite child, Elsie, the sorrows of Widowhood. But the public made the title and demanded the book and the public, I am told, is autocratic. So what could I do but write the story and try to show how the love of Christ in the heart can make life happy even under sore bereavement ? The apostle says, "I am filled with comfort, I am exceeding joyful in all our tribulation ;" and since trouble, trial and affliction are the lot of all in this world of sin and sorrow, what greater kindness could I do you, dear reader, than to show you where to go for relief and con- solation ? That this little book may teach the sweet lesson to many a tried and burdened soul, is the earnest prayer of your friend, THE AUTHOB. CONTENTS. PAOK CHAPTEB 1 7 CHAPTER II 18 CHAPTER III 28 CHAPTER IV 38 CHAPTER V 47 CHAPTER VI 59 CHAPTER VII * . . . 68 CHAPTER VIII 80 CHAPTER IX 91 CHAPTER X 101 CHAPTER XI 114 CHAPTER XII 127 CHAPTER XIII 140 CHAPTER XIV 151 CHAPTER XV 165 vl CONTENTS. PAG* CHAPTER XVI 178 CHAPTEB XVII 194 CHAPTEB XVIII 207 CHAPTER XIX 220 CHAPTER XX 236 CHAPTER XXI 247 CHAPTER XXII 263 CHAPTER XXIII 279 CHAPTER XXIV 296 CHAPTER XXV. . . . . 323 ELSIE'S WIDOWHOOD. CHAPTER I. "All love is sweet, Given or returned. Common as light is love, And its familiar voice wearies not ever." -Shelley. " COME in, Vi, darling," said Mrs. Travilla's sweet voice, " we will be glad to have you with us." Violet, finding the door of her mother's dress- ing-room ajar, had stepped in, then drawn hastily back, fearing to intrude upon what seemed a private interview between her and her namesake daughter ; Elsie being seated on a cushion at her mamma's feet, her face half hid- den on her lap, while mamma's soft white hand gently caressed her hair and cheek. " I feared my presence might not be quite de- sirable just now, mamma," Violet said gayly, coming forward as she spoke. " But what is the matter?" she asked in alarm, perceiving that tears were trembling in the soft brown eyes that were lifted to hers. "Dear mamma, are you ill? or is Elsie ? is anything wrong with her ?" 8 ELSIE'S WIDOWHOOD. " She shall answer for herself," the mother said with a sort of tremulous gayety of tone and manner. " Come, bonny lassie, lift your head and tell your sister of the calamity that has be- fallen you." There was a whispered word or two of re- ply, and Elsie rose hastily and glided from the room. " Mamma, is she sick ?" asked Violet, sur- prised and troubled. " Xo, dear child. It is the old story:" and the mother sighed involuntarily. " We cannot keep her always ; some one wants to take her from us." " Some one ! oh who, mamma ? who would dare ? But you and papa will never allow it ?" " Ah, my child, we cannot refuse ; and I un- derstand now, as I never did before, why my father looked so sad when yours asked him for his daughter.'' Light flashed upon Violet. " Ah mamma, is that it ? and who but I think I know. It ig Lester Leland, is it not?" Her mothers smile told her that her conjec- ture was correct. Violet sighed as she took the seat just vacated by her sister, folded her arms on her mother's lap, and looked up with loving eyes into her face. " Dear mamma, I am so sorry for you ! for ELSIE'S WIDOWHOOD. 9 papa too, and for myself. What shall I do without my sister ? How can you and papa do without her ? How can she ? I'm sure no one in the world can ever be so dear to me as my own precious father and mother. And I wish I wish Lester Leland had never seen her." " No, darling, we should not wish that. These things must be ; God in his infinite wis- dom and goodness has so ordered it. I am sad at the thought of parting with my dear child, yet how could I be so selfish as to wish her to miss the great happiness that I hare found in the love of husband and children?" Violet answered with a doubtful " Yes, mam- ma, but " " Well, dear ?" her mother asked with a smile, after waiting in Tain for the conclusion of the sentence. " I am sure there is not another man in all the world like papa ; not one half so dear and good and kind and lovable." " Ah, you may change your mind about that some day. It is precisely what I used to think and say of my dear father, before I quite learn- ed the worth of yours." " Ah, yes, I forgot grandpa ! he is almost as nice and dear as papa. But here can't be another one, I'm yery, evry sure of that. Les- ter Leland is not half so nice- Oh I don't see how Elsie can !" 10 ELSIE'S WIDOWHOOD. " How Elsie can what ?" asked her father, coming in at that moment, and regarding hei with a half quizzical look and smile. " Leave you and mamma for somebody else, you dear, dear, dearest father !" returned Vi, springing up and running to him to put her arms about his neck and half smother him with kisses. " Then we may hope to keep you for a good while yet ?" he said interrogatively, holding her close and returning her caresses in most tender fatherly fashion, the mother watching them with beaming eyes. " Yes, indeed ; till you grow quite, quite tired of me, papa." "And that will never be, my pet. Ah, little wife, how rich we are in our children ! Yet not rich enough to part with one without a pang of regret. But we will not trouble about that yet, since the evil day is not very near." " Oh isn't it ?" cried Violet joyously. " No ; Lester goes to Italy in a few weeks, and it will be one, two, or maybe three years before he returns to claim his bride." " Ah, then it is not time to begin to fret about it yet !" cried Vi, gleefully, smiles chasing away the clouds from her brow. At her age a year seems a long while in an- ticipation. " No. daughter, nor ever will be," her father ELSIE'S WIDOWHOOD. H responded with gentle gravity. "I hope my little girl will never allow herself to indulge in so useful and sinful a thing as fretting over either what can or what cannot be helped." " Ah, you don't mean to let me fret at all, I see, you dear, wise old papa," she returned with a merry laugh. "Now I must find Elsie and pass the lesson over to her. For I shrewdly sus- pect she's fretting over Lester's expected de- parture." " Away with you then !" was the laughing re- joinder, and she went dancing and singing from the room. " The dear, merry, light-hearted child," her father said, looking after her. " Would that I could keep her always thus." " Would you if you could, my husband ?" Mrs. Travilla asked with a tender smile, a look of loving reverence, as he sat down by her side. "No, sweet wife, I would not," he answered emphatically; " for, as Rutherford says, 'grace groweth best in winter ; ' and the Master says, ' As many as I love, I rebuke and chasten.' " " Yes ; and 'we must through much tribula- tion enter into the kingdom of God.' Ah, we could never choose for our precious children ex- emption from such trials and afflictions as He may see necessary to fit them for an eternity of joy and bliss at His right hand !" 12 ELSIE'S WIDOWHOOD. " No ; nor for ourselves, nor for each other, my darling. But how well it is that the choice is not for us ! How could I ever choose a single pang for you, beloved ? vein of my heart, my life, my light, my joy !" " Or I for you, my dear, dear husband!" sh& whispered, as he drew her head to a resting^ place upon his breast and pressed a long kiss of ardent affection on her pure white brow. "Ah, Edward, I sometimes fear that I lean on you too much, love you too dearly! What could I ever do without you husband, friend, counsel- lor, guide everything in one?" Violet went very softly into her sister's dress- ing-room and stood for several minutes watch- ing her with a mixture of curiosity, interest and amusement, before Elsie became aware of her presence. She sat with her elbow on the window seat, her cheek in her hand, eyes fixed on some dis- tant point in the landscape, but evidently with thoughts intent upon something quite foreign to it; for the color came and went on the soft cheeks with every breath, and conscious smiles played about the full red lips. At last turning her head and catching her young sister's eye, she crimsoned to the very forehead. "0 Elsie, don't mind me!" Violet said, springing to her side and putting her arms ELSIE'S WIDOWHOOD. 13 around her. "Are you so very happy? You look so, and I am glad for you; but but I can't understand it." "What, Vi?" Elsie asked, half hiding her blushing face on her sister's shoulder. " How you can love anybody better than our own dear, darling, precious papa and mamma." "Yes. I I don't wonder, Vi," blushing more deeply than before, " but they are not angry dear, dear mamma and papa it seems to me I never loved them half so dearly before and they say it is quite natural and right." "Then it must be, of course; but I wish it was somebody else's sister and not mine. I can't feel as if a stranger has as much right to my own sister as I have; and I don't know how to do without you. Elsie, can't you be con- tent to live on always in just the way we have ever since we were little bits of things?" Elsie answered with an ardent embrace and a murmured " Darling Vi, don't be vexed with me. I'm sure you wouldn't if you knew how dearly, dearly I love you." " Well, I do suppose you can't help it!" sighed Violet, returning the embrace. " Can't help loving you? No, indeed; who could?" Elsie returned laughingly. " You wouldn't wish it, surely? You value my affec- tion?" "Oh you dear old goose!" laughed Violet; 14 ELSIE 1 8 WIDOWHOOD. "but that was a wilful misunderstanding. None so stupid as those that won't comprehend. Now I'll run away and leave you to your pleas- ant thoughts. May I tell Molly?" " Yes," Elsie answered with some hesitation, " she'll have to know soon. Mamma thinks it should not be kept secret, though it must be so long before " "Ah, that reminds me that I was to pass over to you the lesson papa just gave me that fret- ting is never wise or right. I leave you to make the application," and she ran gayly away. So joyous of heart, so full of youthful life and animation was she that she seldom moved with sedateness and sobriety in the privacy of home, but went tripping and dancing from room to room, often filling the house with birdlike war- blings or silvery laughter. Molly Percival sat in her own cheery, pleas- ant room, pen in hand and surrounded by books and papers over which she seemed very intent, though now and then she lifted her head and sent a sweeping glance through the open win- dow, drinking in with delight the beauties of a panorama of hill and dale, sparkling river, cul- tivated field and wild woodland, to which the shifting lights and shadows, as now and again a fleecy, wind-swept cloud partially obscured the brightness of the sun, lent the harm of endless variety. ELSIE'S WIDOWHOOD. 15 Molly's face was bright with intelligence and good hurnor. She enjoyed her work and her increasing success. And she had still another happiness in the change that had come over her mother. Still feeble in intellect, Enna Johnson had become as remarkable for gentleness and docili- ty as she had formerly been for pride, arrogance and self-will. She had grown very fond of Molly, too, very proud of her attainments and her growing fame, and asked no greater privilege than to sit in the room with her, watching her at her work, and ever ready to wait upon and do her errands. And so she, too, had her home at Ion, made always welcome by its large-hearted, generous master and mistresss. "Busy, as usual, I see," remarked Violet, asr she came tripping in. " Molly, you are the veri- est bee, and richly deserve to have your hive- full of the finest honey. I'm the bearer of a bit of news very interesting to Elsie and me, in, fact I suppose I might say to all the family. Have you time to hear it?" "Yes, indeed, and to thank you for your kindness in bringing it," Molly answered, lay- ing down her pen and leaning- back in a restful attitude. " But sit down first, won't you?" " Thank you, no; it's time to dress for din- ner. I must just state the fact and run away," 16 ELSIE'S WIDOWHOOD. said Violet, pulling out a tiny gold watch set with brilliants. "It is that Elsie and Lester Leland are engaged." "And your father and mother approve?" asked Molly in some surprise. "Yes, of course; Elsie would never think of engaging herself to anybody without their ap- proval. But why should they be expected to object?" " I don't know, only he's poor, and most wealthy people would consider that a very great objection." Violet laughed lightly. " What an odd idea! If there is wealth on one side, there's the less need of it on the other, I should think. And he is intelligent, sensible, talented, amiable and good; rather handsome too." "And so you are pleased, Vi?" "Yes, no, I don't know," and the bright face clouded slightly. " I wish but if people must marry, he'll do as well as another to rob me of my sister, I suppose." She tripped away, and Molly, dropping her head upon her folded arms on the table, sighed profoundly. Some one touched her on the shoulder, and her mother's voice asked, "What's the matter. Molly? You don't envy her that poor artist fellow, do you? You needn't: there'll be a bet- ter one coming aloTv/, :5or you one of these days." ELSIE'S WIDOWHOOD. 17 " No. no; not for me ! not for me !" gasped the girl. " I've nothing to do with love or marriage, except to picture them for others. It's like mixing delicious draughts for other lips, while I I may not taste them may not have a single drop to cool my parched tongue, or quench my burning thirst." At the moment life seemed to stretch out be- fore her as a dreary waste, unbrightened by a single flower a long, toilsome road to be trod in loneliness and pain. Her heart uttered the old plaint: " They eem to have everything and I nothing." Then her cheek burned with shame, and peni- tent tears filled her eyes, as better thoughts came crowding into her mind. Had she not a better than an earthly love to cheer, comfort, and sustain her on her way? a love that would never fail, a Friend who would never leave nor forsake her ; whose sym- pathy was perfect ; who was always touched with the feeling of her infirmities, and into whose ear she could ever whisper her -every sor- row, perplexity, anxiety, certain of help ; for His love and power were infinite. And the minor blessings of her lot were in- numerable : the love of kindred and friends, and the ability to do good and give pleasure by the exercise of her God-given talents, not the least. CHAPTER II. M Marriage is a matter of more worth Than to be dealt in by attorneyship." Shakespeare. LESTEB LELAXD would sail in a few weeks for Europe. He was going to Italy to study the great masters, and with the determination to epare no effort to so perfect himself in his art that his fame as the first of American sculptors should constitute a prize worthy to lay at the feet of his peerless Elsie. Their engagement was presently made known to all the connection, and with no pledge or request of secrecy, her parents deeming such a course wisest and kindest to all parties. Elsie had many suitors, and it was but just to them to let it be understood that her selection was made. The communication was by note to each fam- ily, which note contained also an invitation to a family dinner at Ion, given in honor of the new- ly affianced pair. Of course the matter called forth more or less of discussion in each household, every one feeling privileged to express an opinion in re- gard to the suitableness of the proposed match. It created some surprise at the Oaks, but as ELSIE'S WIDOWHOOD. 19 Lester was liked and his genius admired by them all, there were no unfavorable comments. At Ashlands the news was received in much the same way, Herbert remarking, "Well, as it isn't Vi, I don't care a pin." Everybody at Fairview was delighted. At Pinegrove it was pronounced " an odd affair, but just like the Travillas ; in choosing their friends and associates they never seemed to look upon wealth as a recommendation, or the want of it as an objection. It was at breakfast-time that the note of in- vitation, addressed to old Mr. Dinsmore, reached Roselands. He glanced over it, then read it aloud. "My great-granddaughter engaged to be married !" he remarked, as he laid it down. " 1 may well feel myself an aged patriarch! Though * few and evil have the days of the years of my life been,' " he added, low and musingly, end- ing with a heavy sigh. "No such thing, father!" said Mrs. Conly, in a quick, impatient tone. "I'm not going to hear you talk so about yourself ; you who- have been always an honorable, upright, pol- ished gentleman." " But what a wretched mesalliance is this!'* she commented, with covert delight, taking up the note and glancing over its contents. "A poor artist v destitute of fame and money alike> 20 ELSIE'S WIDOWHOOD. to mate with an heiress to hundreds of thou- sands ! Why, poor as I and my children are, J should have rejected overtures from him for one of my girls with scorn and indignation."' " Which would have been a decided mistake, I think, mother," remarked Calhoun, respect- fully. " Leland is a fine fellow, of good family, and very talented. He'll make his mark some day, and you may live to take pride in saying that the wife of the famous sculptor Leland is a niece of yours." "A half grandniece," she corrected, bridling. " But I shall be an ancient dame indeed before that comes to pass." " I have found him a very gentlemanly and intelligent fellow," remarked Arthur ; "and as for money, Elsie is likely to have enough for both." " So she is," said the grandfather. " And he is thoroughly good, and will make a kind and appreciative husband," added Isadore. Virginia looked scornful and contemptuous. " He's too goody-goody for me," she said, "but just like the Travillas in that, so will fit in exactly, I presume. Well, if people like to make fools of themselves, I don't see that we need be unhappy about it. We'll accept the in- vitation, of course, mamma ?" turning to her mother ; " and the next question is, what shall we wear ?> ELSIE' 8 WIDOWHOOD. 21 " We must make handsome dinner toilets, of course/' was the reply; "for, though none but relatives and connections are to be present, it will be a large company." " Yes, and I've no fancy for being outshone by anybody, and Aunt Rose is sure to be very elegantly attired ; Cousin Rose Lacey and Cousin Horace's wife no less so. Talk of my fondness for dress ! It's small compared to theirs." "It is principally the doing of the hus- bands," said Isadore. "Both or I might say all three, for Uncle Horace is no exception are very fond of seeing their wives well dressed." "An excellent trait in a gentleman the de- termination that his nearest female relatives shall make a good appearance," remarked Mrs. Conly, significantly, glancing from father to sous. " But the ability to bring it about is not al- ways commensurate with the desire, mother," said Isadore. " Thank you, Isa," said Calhoun, following her from the room, for she had risen from the table with her last words ; " my mother does ^ot seem to comprehend the difference between our circumstances and those of some of our relatives, and I am sure has no idea of the pam her words sometimes give to grandpa, Art, and myself." 22 ELSIE'S WIDOWHOOD. " No, Cal, or she could never be so cruel,* Isa answered, laying her hand affectionately on Ids arm and looking lovingly into his eyes. " I know that my brothers deny themselves many an innocent gratification for the sake of their mother and sisters: and Cal, I do appreciate it. " I know you do, Isa. Now tell me what you will want for this " "Nothing," she interrupted, with an arch smile up into his face. " Do you suspect me of praising your generosity for a purpose? I have everything I want for the occasion, I do assure you. But, Cal, what do you suppose Uncle Horace will think of Elsie's choice?" " He will not object on the score of Leland's lack of wealth, unless I am greatly mistaken. Bui here he comes to speak for himself," he added, as a horseman was seen coming up the avenue at a brisk canter. They were standing in the hall, but now step- ped out upon the veranda to greet Mr. Dins- more as he alighted, giving his horse in charge to a young negro who came eagerly forward to do the service, quite sure that he would be suit- ably rewarded. It was the lad's firm conviction that " Massa Horace" possessed an inexhaustible supply of email coin, some of which was very apt to be transferred to the pockets of those who waited upon him. ELSIE'S WIDOWHOOD. 33 Greetings were exchanged and Mr. Dinsmore gaid, "I am on my way to Ion. Suppose yon order your pony, Isa, and ride over with me. They will be glad to see you. I want a few mo- ments chat with my father, and that will give you time to don your hat and habit." Isadore was nothing loath, and within half an hour they were on their way. "You have heard the news?" her uncle re- marked inquiringly. " Of Elsie's engagement? Yes, sir. You were discussing it with grandpa and mamma, were you not?" " Yes," and he smiled slightly. " You don't think as she does about it, un- cle?" "No, I am fully satisfied; that the young man is well-bred, good, amiable, honest, intelli- gent, educated, talented and industrious seems to me quite sufficient. My only objection is that the engagement seems likely to be a long one. And yet that has the advantage of leaving the dear child longer in her father's house." " Of which I for one am very glad," said Isa. " What a sweet girl she is, uncle!" "Yes; she strongly resembles her mother in person and character; has always seemed to me a sort of second edition of her." They found the Travillas, old and young, all out on tha veranda enjoying a family chat before 24 ELSIE'S WIDOWHOOD. scattering to tlieir various employments for the day. Grandpa, though seldom a day passed without a visit from him to Ion, was welcomed with all the effusion and delight that might reasonably have been expected if he had not been seen for a month. His daughter's eyes shone with filial love and pleasure as they exchanged their accustomed affectionate greeting, and, as he took possession of the comfortable arm-chair Mr. Tra- villa hastened to offer, his grandchildren cluster- ed about him, the little ones climbing his knees with the freedom and fearlessness of those who doubted neither their right nor their welcome. But in the meantime Isadore was not forgot- ten or overlooked. She too was quite at home at Ion and always made to feel that her visits were esteemed a pleasure. There was a slight timidity of manner, a sweet half shyness about the younger Elsie this morning that was very charming. Her eyes drooped under her grandfather's questioning look and smile and the color came ai?^ went on her fair cheek. He said nothing to her, however, until the younger ones had been summoned away to their studies, then turned to her with the re- mark, "I must congratulate Lester Leland when next I see him. Well, my dear child, I trust you have not made a hasty choice?" ELSIE'S WIDOWHOOD. 25 " I think not, grandpa ; we have known each, other quite intimately for several years," she answered, casting down her eyes and blushing deeply. "You do not disapprove?" " I have no right to object if your parents are satisfied," he said. "But there, do not look uncomfortable ; I really think Lester a fine fel- low, and am quite willing to number him among my grandchildren." She gave him a bright, grateful look ; then she and Isa stole away together for a little girl- ish confidence, leaving the older people to a more business-like discussion of the matter. On every subject of grave importance Mr. Dinsmore was taken into the counsels of his daughter and her husband. His approval on this occasion, though they had scarcely doubted it, was gratifying to both. There were no declinations of the invitation to the family dinner-party, and at the appointed time the whole connection gathered at Ion a large and goodly troop the adults in drawing- room and parlors, the little ones in the nursery. There was the Eoselands branch, consisting of the old grandfather, with his daughter, Mrs. Conly, and her numerous progeny. Prom the Oaks came Mr. Horace Dinsmore, Sr., and Mr, Horace Dinsmore, Jr., with their wives and a bright, beautiful, rollicking year- old boy, whom the proud young father styled 26 ELSIE'S WIDOWHOOL. Horace III. ; also Molly's half brother and si*, tor, Bob and Betty Johnson, to whom their uncle and aunt still gave a home and parental care and affection. All the Howards, of Pinegrove, were there too three generations, two of the sons bringing wives and little ones with them. The Oarringtons, of Ashlands, were also pres- ent ; for, though not actually related to the Travillas, the old and close friendship, and the fact that they were of Mrs. Kose Dinsmore's near kindred, seemed to place them on the foot- ing of relationship. But we are forgetting Mrs- Travilla's sister Rose. She was now Mrs. Lacey, of the Laurels a handsome place some four miles from Ion and mother of a fine son, whom she and her husband brought with them to the family gath- ering and exhibited to the assembled company with no little joy and pride. It remains only to mention Lester Leland and his relatives of Fairview, who were all there, re- ceived and treated as honored guests by their entertainers, with urbane politeness by all the others, except Mrs. Conly and Virginia, who saw fit to appear almost oblivious of their existence. They, however, took a sensible view of the situation, and were quite indifferent as to the opinions and behavior toward them of the two haughty women. ELSIE'S WIDOWHOOD. 27 No one else seemed to notice it; all was ap- parent harmony and good will, and Lester felt himself welcomed into the family with at least a show of cordiality from the most of the rela- tives of "his betrothed. She behaved very sweetly, conducting herself with a half shy, modest grace that disarmed even. Aunt Conly's criticism. A few happy weeks followed, weeks rosy and blissful with love's young dream, then Lester tore himself away and left his Elsie mourning; for half the brightness and bloom of life seemed to have gone with him. Father and mother were very pati.mt with her, very tender and sympathizing, very solici^ tous to amuse and entertain and help her to re- new her old zest for simple home pleasures and employments, the old enjoyment of their love and that of her brothers and sisters. Ah! in after days she recalled it all especial* ly the gentle, tender persuasiveness of her father's looks and tones, the caressing touch of his hand, the loving expression of his eye- with a strange mixture of gladness and bitter sorrow, an unavailing, remorseful regret that she had not responded more readily and heartily to these manifestations of his strong fatherly affection. There came a time when a caress from him was coveted far more than those of her absent lovr CHAPTER III. ^ Faith is exceedingly charitable and believeth no evil of God* Rutherford. DELICIOUS September days had come; the air was soft and balmy; a mellow haze filled the woods, just beginning to s"how the touch of the Frost King's fingers. The children could not content themselves within doors, and the wisely indulgent mother had given them a holiday and spent the morn- ing with them on the banks of the lakelet and floating over its bright surface in their pretty pleasure-boat. Eeturned to the house, she was now resting in her boudoir, lying back in a large easy chair with a book in her hand. Suddenly it dropped into her lap, she started up erect in her chair and seemed to listen intently. Was that her husband's step coming slowly along the hall ? It was like and yet unlike it, lacking the firm, elastic tread. The door opened and she sprang to her feet. "Edward! you are ill !" for there was a deathly pallor on his face. "Do not be alarmed, little wife; it is nothing a strange pain, a sudden faintness," he said, trying to smile, but tottered and would have ELSIE'S WIDOWHOOD. 29 fallen had she not hastened to give him the sup- port of her arm. She helped him to a couch, placed a pillow beneath his head, rang for assistance, brought him a glass of cold water, cologne and smell- ing-salts from her dressing-table; doing all with a deft quickness free from flurry, though her heart almost stood still with a terrible fear and dread. What meant this sudden seizure, this anguish so great that it had bowed in a moment the strength of a strong man ? She had never known him to be seriously ill before. He had seemed in usual health when he left her for hi& accustomed round over the plantation only a few hours ago, and now he was nearly helpless with suffering. Servants were instantly despatched in diffei ent directions : one to Eoselands to summon Dr. Arthur Conly, another to the Oaks for her fa- ther, to whom she instinctively turned in every time of trouble, and who was ever ready to obey the call. Both arrived speedily, to find Mr. Travilla in an agony of pain, bearing it without a murmur, almost without a moan or groan, but with cold beads of perspiration standing on his brow; Elsie beside him. calm, quiet, alert to anticipate every wish, but pale as a marble statue and with a look of anguish in her beautiful eyes. It was 30 ELSIE'S WIDOWHOOD. so hard to stand by and see the suffering en- dured by him who was dearer than her own life. She watched Arthur's face as he examined and questioned his patient, and saw it grow white to the very lips. Was her husband's doom then sealed? But Arthur drew her and Mr. Dinsmore aside. " The case is a bad one, but not hopeless," he said. " I am unwilling to take the responsibility alone, but must call in Dr. Barton and also send to the city for the best advice to be had there." " We have great confidence in your skill. Ar- thur," Elsie said, " but let nothing be left un- done. God alone can heal, but he works by means." "And in the multitude of counsellors there is safety," added Mr. Dinsmore. ''Dear daugh- ter, ' be strong and of a good courage ;' there shall no evil befall you, for your heavenly Father knows, and will do what is best." " Yes, papa, I know, I believe it," she an- swered with emotion. "Ah, pray for me, that strength may be given me according to my day: and to him, my dear, dear husband; no mur- muring thoughts arise in either of our hearts." The news had flown through the house that its master and head had been stricken down with sudden, severe illness. Great were the consternation and distress among both children ELSIE'S WIDOWHOOD. 3: and servants, so beloved was he, so strange a thing did it seem for him to be ill, for he had seldom had a day's sickness in all the years that they had known him. Elsie, Edward and Violet hastened to the door of the sick-room, begging that they might be admitted, that they might share in the work of nursing the dear invalid. Their mamma came to them, her sweet face very pale but calm. " No, darlings," she said in her gentle, tender tones, "it will not do to have so many in the room while your dear father is suffering so much. Your grandpa, mammy and I must be his only nurses for the present; though after a time your services may be needed." " mamma, it is very hard to have to stay away from him," sobbed Violet. " I know it, dearest," her mother said, " and my heart aches for you and all my darlings; but I am sure you all love your dear father too well not to willingly sacrifice your own feelings when to indulge them might injure him or increase his pain." " mamma, yes, yes indeed!" they all cried. " Well then, dears, go away now; look after the younger ones and the servants I trust them all to your care; and when the doctors say it will do, you shall see and speak to your father, and do anything for him that you can." 32 ELSIE'S WIDOWHOOD. So with a loving, motherly caress bestowed upon each, she dismissed them to the duties she had pointed out, and returned to her station beside her husband's couch. Mr. Dinsmore, Arthur Conly, and Aunt Chloe were gathered about it engaged in efforts to relieve the torturing pain. His features were convulsed with it, but his eyes wandered rest- lessly around the room as if in search of some- thing. As Elsie drew near they fixed them- selves upon her face, and his was lighted up with a faint smile. " Darling, precious little wife," he murmured, drawing her down to him till their lips met in a long loving kiss, "don't leave me fora moment. Nothing helps me to bear this agony like the sight of your sweet face." "Ah, beloved, if I might bear it for you!" she sighed, her eyes filling with tears, while her soft white hand was laid tenderly upon his brow. "No, no! " he said, " that were far worse, far worse!" '. Her tears were falling fast. "Ah, do not be so distressed; it is not unen- durable," he hastened to say with a loving, ten- der look" and an effort to smile in the midst of his agony. "And He, He is with me; the Lord my Saviour! ' I know that my Redeemer liv- eth,' and the sense of His love is very sweet, never so sweet before." ELSIE'S WIDOWHOOD. 33 "" " Thank God that it is so! Ah, He is faith- ful to his promises!" she said. Then kneeling by his side she repeated one sweet and precious promise after another, the blessed words and loved tones seeming to have a greater power to soothe and relieve than any- thing else. The other physicians arrived, examined, con- sulted, used such remedies as were known to them; everything was done that science and human skill could do, but without avail; they could give temporary relief by the use of opiates and anaesthetics, but were powerless to remove the disease which was fast hurrying its victim to the grave. Both Mr. Travilla and Elsie desired to know the truth, and it was not corcealed from them. On Mr. Dinsmore devolved the sad task of im- parting it. It was in the afternoon of the second day. The doctors had held a final consultation and communicated their verdict to him. Moved to his very heart's core at the thought of parting with his lifelong bosom friend, and more for the far sorer bereavement awaiting his almost idol- ized child, he waited a little to recover his com- posure, then entered the sick-room and drew silently near the bed. Elsie sat close at her husband's side, one hand clasped in his, while with the other she gently 34 ELSIE'S WIDOWHOOD. fanned him or wiped the death damp from his brow. Did she know it was that? Her face was colorless, but quite calm. Mr. Travilla was at that moment entirely conscious, and his eyes were gazing full into hers with an expression of unutterable love and the tenderest compassion. At length they turned from her face for an instant and were uplifted to that of her father, as he stood close beside her, regarding them both with features working with emotion. The dying man understood its cause. "Is it so, Dinsmore?" he said feebly, but with perfect composure. "Elsie, little wife," and he drew her to him, both tone and gesture full of exceed- ing tenderness. "Olove, darling, precious one, must we part? I go to the glory and bliss of heaven, but you " His voice broke. Her heart seemed riven in twain ; but she must comfort him. One bursting sob as she bid her face upon his breast, one silent agonized cry to Heaven for help, and lifting her head, she gave him a long look of love, then laid her cheek to his, put her arm about his neck. "My darling, my dear, dear husband," she said in her sweetest tones, " do not fear for me, or for our children. The Lord, even Josus, will be our keeper. Do not let the thought of us disturb you now, or damp the glad anticipa- tion of the wondrous glory and bliss to which ELSIE'S WIDOWHOOD. 35 you go. Soon you will be with Him, ' forever with the Lord.' And how glad our darling Lily will be to see her beloved father ; dear mother to recover her son ; and what a little, little while it will seem till we all shall join you there, never, never to part again." " And neither she, my dear daughter, nor her children, shall want for a father's love and care while I live, my dear friend," said Mr. Dins- more, his voice tremulous with emotion. " I know it, I know it, and God be thanked that I leave them in such good and loving hands," Mr. Tra villa answered, looking grate- fully at his friend. " You trusted your darling child to me," ha went on low and feebly and with frequent pauses for breath, " and I give her back to you. Oh she has been a dear, dear wife to me !" he exclaimed, softly stroking her hair. " God bless you, my darling ! God bless you for your faith- ful, unselfish love ! You have been the sun- shine of my heart and home." " And you, my beloved, oh what a husband you have been to me !" she sobbed, covering his face with kisses ; " never one unkind or impa- tient word, or look, or tone, nothing but the tenderest love and care have I had from you since the hour we gave ourselves to each other. And I thought, oh I thought we had many more years to live and love together ! But God's will be done !" 36 ELSIE'S WIDOWHOOD. " Yes," he said, " His will be done with me and mine. Darling, he will never leave nor for- sake you ; and though I am almost done with time, we shall have all the ages of eternity to live and love together." Silent caresses were all that passed between them for some moments ; then Mr. Dinsmore inquired if his friend had any directions to give about his affairs. "$Q," he said, " all that was attended to long since. Elsie knows where to find all my papers, and understands everything in regard to the property and my business matters as well as I do. " And my peace is made with God," he con- tinued after a pause, speaking in a sweetly solemn tone. " His presence is with me, I feel the everlasting arms underneath and around me. All my hope and trust are in the blood and righteousness of Christ, my crucified and risen Saviour. All is peace. I am a sinner saved by grace. " Let me see my children and give them a father's blessing, and I shall have nothing more to do but fall asleep in Jesus." Elsie and Vi were together in a room across the hall from that in which their father lay, sitting clasped in each other's arms, waiting, hoping for the promised summons to go to him when he should be sufficiently relieved to bear their presence. ELSIE'S WIDOWHOOD. 37 Ah, there was in each young heart an un- spoken fear that he would never rise from that couch of pain, for they had seemed to read his doom in the grave, anxious faces of grandfather and physicians ; but oh it was too terrible a fear for either to put into words even to her own consciousness ! How could life go on without the father who had thus far constituted so large a part of it to them ! A shuffling step drew near, and Aunt Chloe appeared before them, her face swollen with weeping, her eyes filled with tears. " You's to come now, chillens." " Oh is papa better ?" they cried, starting up in eager haste to obey the summons. The old nurse shook her head, tears bursting forth afresh. "He's mos' dar, chillens, mos' dar, whar dey don' hab no mo' pain, no mo' sick- ness, no mo' dyin'. I see de glory shinin' m his face ; he's mos' dar." Then as their sobs and tears burst forth, "Oh my mistis, my bressed young mistis," she cried, throwing her apron over her head, " yo> ole maminy'd die to keep massa here for yo* sake. But de Lord's will mus 5 be done, an' He ueber makes no mistakes." CHAPTEK IV. "Death is another life." Bailey. " OH Elsie, Elsie, what shall we do ! But it can't, it can't be true !" sobbed Violet, clinging to her sister in a heart-breaking paroxysm of grief. " Oh it will kill mamma, and we shall lose her too !" " No, no, honey, not so," said Aunt Chloe ; "my bressed young missus will lib for yo' sake, for her chillens' sake. An' you ain't gwine to lose massa : he's only gwine home a little while 'fore de rest," "Dear Vi, we must try to be composed for both their sakes," whispered Elsie, scarcely able to speak for weeping. " Dear bressed Lord help dem, help dese po' chillens," ejaculated Aunt Chloe. " Come, chil- lens, we's losin' precious time." They wiped away their tears, checked their sobs by a determined effort, and hand in hand followed her to the sick-room. Perfect ease had taken the place of the ago- nizing pain which for many hours had racked Mr. Travilla's frame, but it was the relief af- forded not by returning health, but by approach- ing dissolution ; death's seal was on his brow ; ELSIE'S WIDOWHOOD. 39 even his children could read it as they gathered, weeping, about his bed. He had a few words of fatherly counsel, of tender, loving farewell for each Elsie, Violet, Edward : to the last saying, " My son, I com- mit your mother to your tender care. You have almost reached man's estate ; take your father's place, and let her lean on your young, vigorous arm ; yet fail not in filial reverence and obedience ; be ever ready to yield to her wise, gentle guidance. " I will, father, I will," returned the lad in a choking voice. "And may not I too, and Herbert, papa?" sobbed Harold. "Yes, dear son, and all of you, love and cherish mamma and try to fill my place to her. And love and obey your kind grandpa as you have always loved and obeyed me." One after another had received a last caress, a special parting word, till it had come to the turn of the youngest darling of all little four- year-old Walter. They lifted him on to the bed, and creeping close to his father, he softly stroked the dying face, and kissing the lips, the cheeks, the brow, cooed in sweet baby accents, "Me so glad to see my dear papa. Papa doin' det well now. Isn't you, papa?" " Yes, papa's dear pet; I'm going where sick- 40 ELSIE'S WIDOWHOOD. ness and pain can never come. My little boy must love the dear Saviour and trust in him, and then one day he shall follow me to that blessed land. Ah, little son, you are too young to remember your father. He will soon be forgotten!" "No, no, dearest," said his weeping wife, " not so; your pictured face and our constant mention of you shall keep you in remembrance even with him." " Thanks, dearest," he said, turning a loving gaze on her, "it is a pleasant thought that my name will not be a forgotten sound among the dear ones left behind. We shall meet again, beloved wife, meet again beyond the river. I shall be waiting for you on the farther shore. I am passing through the waters, but He is with me, He who hath washed me from my sins in His own blood. And you, dearest wife does He sustain you in this hour?" "Yes," she said, "His grace is sufficient for me. Dear, dear husband, do not fear to leave me to his care." Tears were coursing down her white cheeks, but the low, sweet tones of her voice were calm and even. She was resolutely putting aside all thought of self and the sore bereavement that awaited her and her children, that she might smooth his passage to the tomb; she would not that he should be disturbed by one anxious thought of them. ELSIE' 8 WIDOWHOOD. 41 He forgot none of his household. Molly and her mother were brought in for a gentle, loving farewell word; then each of the servants. He lingered still for some hours, but his wife never left him for an instant ; her hand was clasped in his when the messenger came; his last look of love was for her, his last whisper, " Precious little wife, eternity is ours !" Friends carried him to his quiet resting place beside the little daughter who had preceded him to the better land, and widow and children returned without him to the home hitherto made so bright and happy by his loved presence. Elsie, leaning on her fathers arm, slowly ascended the steps of the veranda, but on the threshold drew back with a shudder and a low, gasping sob. Her father drew her to his breast. " My darling, do not go in. Come with me to the Oaks ; let me take you all there for a time." "'No, dear papa; 'twould be but putting off the evil day the trial that must be borne sooner or later," she said in trembling, tearful tones. " But if you will stay with me " " Surely, dearest, as long as you will. I could not leave you now, my poor stricken one! Let me assist you to your room. You are com- pletely worn out, and must take some rest." " My poor children " she faltered. 42 ELSIE'S WIDOWHOOD. " For their sakes you must take care of your, self, " he said . < t Your mamma is here. She and. I will take charge of everything until you are able to resume your duties as mother and mis- He led her to her apartments, made her lie down on a couch, darkened the room, and sit- ting down beside her, took her hand in his. "Papa, papa!" she cried, starting up in a sudden burst of grief, " take me in your arms, take me in your arms and hold me close as you used to do, as he has done every day that he lived since you gave me to him!" " My poor darling, my poor darling!" he said, straining her to his breast, " God comfort you! May He be the strength of your heart and your portion forever! Eemember that Jesus still lives, and that your beloved one is with Him, rejoic- ing with joy unspeakable and full of glory." " Yes, yes, but oh, the learning to live with, out him!" she moaned. "How can I! how can I!" "'When thou passest through the waters, I will be with thee; and through the rivers, they shall not overflow thee; when thou walkest through the fire, thou shalt not be burned, neither shall the flame kindle upon thee. For I am the Lord thy God, the Holy One of Israel, thy Saviour,' " he repeated in low, moved tones. " ' Behold I have refined thee, but not with sil- ELSIE'S WIDOWHOOD. 43 ver, I have chosen thee in the furnace of afflic- tion.' Dear daughter, my heart bleeds for you, and yet I know that He who has sent this sorrow loves you far better than I do, and He means it for good. ' Faith is the better of the free air and of the sharp winter storm in its face. Grace withereth without adversity.' " " Yes, yes," she whispered, clinging to him. "Go on, dear papa, you bring me comfort." " What so comforting as the love of Christ!" he went on; "the assurance that * in all our afflictions He is afflicted!' My darling, 'the weightiest end of the cross of Christ, which is laid upon you, lieth upon your strong Saviour! ' " "And He will never let me sink," she said. "Oh what love is His! and how unworthy am I!" Never very strong, Elsie was, as her father plainly perceived, greatly exhausted by the com- bined influence of the fatigue of nursing, over- whelming sorrow and the constraint she had put upon herself to control its manifestations while her husband lived. She must have rest from every care and re- sponsibility, must be shielded from all annoy- ance, and as far as possible from every fresh, reminder of her loss. For several days he watched over her with unceasing care and solicitude, doing all in hi? lower to soothe, to comfort and console, allow- 44 ELSIE'S ing only short interviews with Rose and the chil- dren, and keeping every one else away except her old mammy. Never had father and daughter seemed nearer and dearer to each other than in these sorrowful days. To lay her weary head upon his breast while his arms folded her close to his heart, gave some relief more than could anything else to the unutterable longing to feel the clasp of those other arms whose loving embrace she could never know again on earth. But her nature was too unselfish and affection- ate to allow of long indulgence in this life of inactivity and, nursing of her grief. She could not resist the anxious, pleading looks of her children. She, their only remaining parent, must now devote herself to them even more entirely than had been her wont. Grandma Eose was kind as kind could be, but mamma's place could be filled by no one but herself. " Dear papa," she said when three days had passed, " I am rested now, and you must please let me go back to my duties. My dear little ones need me ; the older ones too. I cannot deprive them of their mother any longer." " Would it not be well to give yourself one more day of rest ?" he asked, gazing sadly at the wan cheeks and the mournful eyes that looked so unnaturally large. "I do not think you are strong enough yet for anything like exertion." ELSIE'S WIDOWHOOD. 45 " I think the sweet work of comforting and caring for my darlings his children as well as mine," she said with a tremble in her voice, "will do me good." " It is partly for their sakes that I want you to take care of yourself," he said, putting his arm about her, while her head dropped on his shoulder. " Would it not have been his wish ? were you not always his first care ?" She gave a silent assent, the tears coursing down her cheeks. " And he gave you back to me, making you doubly mine my own darling, precious child ! and your life, health and happiness must be my special charge," he said, caressing her with exceeding tenderness. " My happiness ? Then, papa, you will not try to keep me from my darlings. My dear, dear father, do not think I am ungrateful for your loving care. Ah, it is very sweet and rest- ful-to lean upon you and feel the strong tender clasp of your arm ! but I must rouse myself and become a prop for others to lean upon." " Yes, to some extent when you are quite rested. But you must bear no burdens, dear daughter, that your father can bear for you." She looked her gratitude out of tear-dimmed eyos. " God has been very good to me, in sparing me, my father," she said. "And my children, 46 ELSIE'S WIDOWHOOD. my seven darlings all good and loving. How rich I ought to feel J lloiv rich I do feel, though so sorely bereaved." The tears burst forth afresh. " You will let me go to them ?" she said when she could s'peak again. " To-morrow, if you will try to rest and gain strength to-day. I am quite sure it is what he would have wished that you should rest a little longer. v The children can come to you for an hour or two to-day." She yielded for that time, aud the next day he withdrew his opposition and himself led her down to thfe breakfast parlour, where all were gathered to partake of the morning meal. CHAPTEE Y. " Weep not for him that dieth, For he hath ceased from tears." Mrs. Norton. THERE was much unselfish love for their mam- ma and for each other displayed by the young Travillas in those sad days immediately follow- ing the death of their dearly loved father. Every heart ached sorely with its own burden of grief excepting that of little Walter, who was too young to understand or realize his loss, yet was most solicitous to assuage that of the brothers and sisters, but especially to comfort and help "poor, dear, dear mamma." They were filled with alarm as they saw their grandfather almost carry her to her room, then close the door upon them. " Oh," cried Violet, clinging to her older sister, and giving way to a burst of terrified weeping, " I knew it would be so ! mamma will die too. Oh mamma, mamma !" " Dear child, no !" said Eose, laying a caress- Ing hand on the young weeper's arm ; " do not be alarmed ; your dear mother is worn out with grief and nursing she has scarcely slept for several days and nights but is not ill otherwise, and I trust that rest and the consolations of God 4 g ELSIE'S WIDOWHOOD. will still restore her to her wonted health and cheerfulness." " grandma," sobbed Elsie, ' do you think mamma can ever be cheerful and happy again ? I am sure she can never forget papa." "No, she will never forget him, never cease ^o miss the delight of his companionship ; but she can learn to be happy in the thought of his eternal blessedness and the sure reunion that awaits them when God shall call her home ; and in the love of Jesus and of her dear chil- dren." Hose had thrown one arm about Elsie's waist, the other round Violet, and drawn them to a eeat, while Edward and the younger children grouped themselves about her, Rose and "Walter leaning on her lap. They all loved her, and now hung upon her words, finding comfort in them, though listen- ing with many tears and sobs. She went on to speak at length of the glory and bliss of heaven, of the joy of being with Christ and free from sin ; done with sorrow and sighing, pain and sickness and death ; of the delight with which their sister Lily, their Grand- mother Travilla, and other dear ones gone be- fore, must have welcomed the coming of their father ; and of the glad greeting he would give to each of them when they too should reach- the gate of the Celestial City. ELSIE'S WIDOWHOOD. 49 "Yes, grandma, papa told us all to come/' said little Kosie. " I know he did, dear child ; and do you know the way ?" " Yes, grandma, Jesus said, ' 1 am the way.' He died to save sinners, and He will save all who love Him and trust in Him alone, not thinking anything they can do is going to help to save them." " Save them from what, darling ?" "From their sins, grandma, and from going to live with Satan and his wicked angels, and wicked people that die and go there." " Yes, that is all so, and oh what love it was that led the dear Saviour to suffer and die upon the cross that we might live ! Dear children, it was His death that bought eternal life for your beloved father and has purchased it for us all if we will but take it as His free, unmerited gift." ' "But, grandma," sobbed Harold, "why didn't He let our dear papa stay with us a little longer ? Oh I don't know how we can ever, ever live without him!" This called forth a fresh burst of grief from all, even little Walter crying piteously, "I want my papa ! I want my own dear papa!" Rose lifted him to her lap and caressed him tenderly, her tears falling fast." "Dear children," she said, as the storm of 50 ELSIE'S WIDOWHOOD. grief subsided a little, " we must not be selfish in our sorrow ; we must try to rejoice that your beloved father is far, far happier than he conld ever be here. I think the dear Saviour took him home because He loved him so much that He could no longer spare him out of heaven. And He, Jesus, will be your Father now even more than He was before: ' A father of the fatherless and a judge of the widows is God in his holy habitation.'" " I'm veiy glad the Bible tells us that," re- marked Herbert, checking his sobs. " I have heard and read the words often, but they never Beemed half so sweet before." " No," said Harold, putting an arm about him (the two were very strongly attached and almost inseparable); "and we have grandpa too : papa said he would be a father to us." "And he will, dear children," said Rose. " 1 do not think he could love you much more than he does if he were really your own father, as he is your dear mamma's." " And I am to try to fill papa's place," said Edward, with a strong but vain effort to steady his voice. " I am far from competent, I know, but I shall try to do my very best." " And God will help you if you ask Him," said Rose ; "help you to be a great comfort and assistance to your mother and younger brothers and sisters." ELSIE'S WIDOWHOOD. 5J " Ah, if we might only go to mamma!" sigh- ed Violet, when she and Elsie had withdrawn to the privacy of their own apartment. " Do you think we might venture now?" " Not yet awhile, I think I hope she is rest- ing ; and grandpa will let us know when it will not disturb her to see us." " Elsie, can we ever be happy again?" cried Violet, throwing herself into her sister's arms. " Where, where shall we go for comfort?" " To Jesus and His word, dear Vi. Let us kneel down together and ask Him to bless us ail and help us to say with our hearts ' Thy will be done,' all of us children and our dear precious mamma." " Oh we can't pray for papa any more!" cried Vi, in an agony of grief. "No, dear Vi, but he no longer needs our prayers. He is so close to the Master, so happy in being forever with Him, that nothing could add to his bliss." Violet hushed her sobs, and with their arms about each other they knelt, while in low, plead- ing tones Elsie poured out their grief and their petitions into the ear of the ever compassionate, loving Saviour. Fortunately for them in this hour of sore af- fliction, they were no strangers to prayer or to the Scriptures, and knew where to turn to find the many sweet and precious promises suited to their needs. 52 ELSIE'S WIDOWHOOD. Some time was given to this, and then Elsie, mindful of the duty and privilege of filling to the best of her ability her mother's place to the little ones, went in search of them. The tea hour brought them all together again all the children but father and mother were missing. Oh this gathering about the table was almost the hardest thing of all ! It had been wont to be a time of glad, free, cheer- ful, often mirthful intercourse between parents and children; no rude and noisy hilarity, but the most enjoyable social converse and inter- change of thought and feeling, in which the young people, while showing the most perfect respect and deference to their parents, and un- eelfish consideration for each other, were yet under no galling constraint, but might ask questions and give free expression to their opin- ions, if they wished ; and were indeed encour- aged to do so. But what a change had a few days brought 3 There was an empty chair that would never again be filled by him to whom one and all had looked up with the tenderest filial love and rev- erence. All eyes turned toward it, then were suffused with tears, while one and another vain- ly strove to suppress the bursting sobs. They could not sit down to the table. They drew close together in a little weeping group. The grandparents came in, and Mr. Dinsmore, ELSIE'S WIDOWHOOD. 53 trying to gather them all in his arms, caressed them iii turn, saying in broken, tender tones, " My dear children, my poor dear children ! I will be a father to you. I cannot supply his place, but will do so as nearly as I can. You know, my darlings, my sweet Elsie's children, that I have a father's love for you." "Yes, grandpa, we know it," "Dear grand- pa, we're glad we have you left to us," sobbed one and another. "And mamma, dear, precious mamma! O grandpa, is she sick?" " Not exactly sick, my darlings," he said, "but very much worn out. We must let her rest. 1 ' " Can't we see her ? can't we go to her?" " Not now, not to-night, I think. I left her sleeping, and hope she will not wake for some hours." At that the little ones seemed nearly heart- broken. "How could they go to their beds without seeing mamma?" But Elsie comforted them. She would help mammy to put them to bed ; and oh it was the best of news that dear mamma was sleeping! because if she did not she would soon be quite ill. Molly Percival, because of her crippled con- dition, making locomotion so difficult, seldom joined the family at table, but took her meals in 54 ELSIE'S WIDOWHOOD. her own room, a servant waiting upon her and her mother, who, in her new devotion to poor Molly, preferred to eat with her. The appointments of their table were quite as dainty as those of the other, the fare never less luxurious. A very tempting repast was spread before them to-night, but Molly could not eat for weeping. Her mother, tasting one dish after another with evident enjoyment, at length thought fit to expostulate with her. " Molly, why do you cry so ? I do wish yon would stop it and eat your supper." "I'm not hungry, mother."' " That's only because you're fretting so ; and what's the use ? Mr. Travilla's better off ; and besides he was nothing to you." "Nothing to me! mother! he was so good, so kind to me, to Dick, to everybody about him. He treated me like a daughter, and I loved him as well as if he had been my own father. He did not forget you or me when he was dying, mother." " No ; and it was good of him. Still, cry- ing doesn't do any good ; and you'll get weak .aa sick if you don't eat." ' Molly's only answer was a burst of grief. *' Oh poor, poor Cousin Elsie ! her heart must fee quite broken, for she idolized her husband, ELSIE'S WIDOWHOOD. 55 And the girls and all of them ; how they did love their father !" The servant came in with a plate of hot cakes, and a slender girlish figure presently stole softly after, without knocking, for the door stood open, and to the side of Molly's chair. It was "Violet, looking, oh so sad and sweet, so fair and spirit- uel in her deep mourning dress. In an instant she and Molly were locked in each other's arms, mingling their sobs and tears together. " I'm afraid we have seemed to neglect you, Molly dear," Violet said when she could speak- "but" "No, no, you have never done that !" cried Molly, weeping afresh. " Ant" how could I expect you to think of me at such a time ! O Vi, Vi !" " Mamma cannot come up, for she is not not able to leave her room, and and Molly, I'm afraid she's going to be sick !" Molly tried to comfort and reassure her. " Aunt Hose was in for a while this afternoon," she said, "and she thinks it is not really sick- ness, only that she needs rest and and comfort. And, Vi, the Lord will comfort her. Don't you remember those sweet words in Isaiah ? * As one whom his mother comf orteth, so will I com- fort you ; and ye shall be comforted.'" Violet had come up to see Molly, lest the poor 56 ELSIE'S WIDOWHOOD. afflicted cousin should feel neglected, Elsie was engaged with the little ones taking mamma's place in seeing them to bed with a lit- tle loving talk on some profitable theme. To-night it was the glory and bliss o heaven; leaving in their young minds, instead - t gloomy and dreadful thoughts of death ans because there is no light in them/ " " Mother," he said, " I think I have a pretty clear idea of some of the temptations of college life: doubtless there are always a good many idle, profane, drinking, dissolute fellows among the students, but it does not seem possible that I shall ever find pleasure in the society of such." " I hope not indeed! " she answered with em- phasis. " It would be a sore grief to me. But I hardly fear it; I believe my boy is a Christian and loves purity: loves study too for its own sake. What I most fear for you is that the pride of intellect may lead you to listen to the argu- ments of sceptics and to examine their works. My son, if you should, you will probably regret it to your dying day. It can do you nothing but harm. If you fill your mind with such things your spiritual foes will take advantage of it to harass you with doubts and fears. ' Blessed is the man that walketh not in the counsel of the ungodly, nor standeth in the way of sinners^ ELSIE'S WIDOWHOOD. 67 nor sitteth in the seat of the scornful.' He who would rob you of your faith in God and His holy word is your greatest enemy. Study the evi- dences of Christianity and be ever ready to give a reason for the hope that is in you." " Mother," he said, taking her hand in his, " I will heed your counsels, but it seems to me that having seen Christianity so beautifully ex- emplified in your life and my father's, I can never doubt its truth and power." Then after a pause in which tears of mingled joy and sorrow fell freely from her eyes, " Dear mother, you have given me a very liberal allow- ance. Can you spare it ? I do not know, 1 have never known the amount of your income." " I can spare it perfectly well, my son," she answered, with a tender smile, pleased at this proof of his thoughtful love. " It is the sum your father thought best to give you for we had consulted together about all these matters. I do not wish you to feel stinted, but at the same time would have you avoid waste and ex- travagance, remembering that they are incon- sistent with our Saviour's teachings, and that money is one of the talents for whose use or abuse we must render an account at the last." CHAPTER VH. " But O ! for the touch of a vanished hand, And the sound of a voice that is still." Tennyton. IT was a chill November day, a day of lower- ing clouds, wind, rain, sleet and snow. Arthur Conly coming into the drawing-room at Ion and finding its mistress there alone, re- marked as he shook hands with her, " The beginning of winter, Cousin Elsie ! It is setting in early. It froze hard last night, and the wind to-day is cutting." " Yes," she said, " even papa and my two big, hardy boys found a short walk quite sufficient to satisfy them to-day. But you poor doctors can seldom consult your own comfort in regard to facing wind and storm. Take this easy chair beside the fire." " Thank you, no ; I shall find it quite warm enough on the sofa beside you. I am glad to have found you alone, for I want to have a little semi-confidential chat." She gave him an inquiring look. " I am a little uneasy about grandpa," he went on: "he seems feeble and has a troublesome cough, and I think should have a warmer cli- mate through the coming winter. I think too, ELSIE'S WIDOWHOOD. 09 cousin, that such a change would be by no means hurtful to you or your children," he continued, regarding her with a grave, professional air : " you are a trifle thin and pale, and need some- thing to rouse and stimulate you." " What is it you wish, Arthur ?" she asked, with a slight tremble in her voice. " I should be glad if you would go to Viamedo for the winter and take our grandfather with you." He paused for an answer. Her face was turned toward a window looking out upon the grounds ; her eyes rested with mournful gaze upon a low mound of earth with* in a little enclosure not many rods away. Arthur read her thoughts, and laying a gentle hand on hers, said in low compassionate tones: " He is not there, cousin, and his spirit will be as near you in your Lily's birthplace, ane worn only in the pulpit or on the Sabbath, but permeated his whole life and conversation ; as was the case with most if not all of those with whom he now sojourned ; and like them, he was a happy Christian ; content with the al- lotments of God's providence, walking joyously in the light of his countenance, making it the one purpose and effort of his life to live to God's glory and bring others to share in the blessed service. He was strongly urged to spend the Winter at Viamede as his cousin's guest, and preacher to the two churches. He took a day or two to consider the matter, then, to the great satisfaction of all concerned, consented to remain, thanking his cousins warmly for their kindness in giving him so sweet a home ; for they made him feel that he was entirely one of themselves, always welcome in their midst, yet at perfect liberty to withdraw into the seclusion of his own apartments when- ever duty or inclination called him to do so. The well-stocked library supplied him with ELSIE'S WIDOWHOOD. 149 all needed books, there were servants to wait upon him, horses at his disposal, in short, noth- ing wanting for purposes of work or of recreation. Again and again he said to himself, or in his letters to those in the home he had left, that " the lines had fallen to him in pleasant places." In the meantime Elsie found the truth as ex- pounded by him from Sabbath to Sabbath, and in the week-day evening service and the family worship, most comforting and sustaining ; while his intelligent, agreeable conversation and cheer- ful companionship were most enjoyable at other times. " Cousin Cyril " soon became a great favorite with those who claimed the right to call him so, and very much liked and looked up to by Isa- dore, Molly, and the rest to whom he was simply Mr. Keith. In common with all others who knew them, he admired his young cousins, Elsie and Violet, extremely, and found their society delightful. Molly's sad affliction called forth, from the first, his deepest commiseration ; her brave en- durance of it, her uniform cheerfulness under it, his strong admiration and respecv. Yet he presently discovered that Isadore Conly had stronger attractions for him than any other woman he had ever met. It was not her beaut* 1 alone, her refinement, her many accomplish ments, but principally her noble qualities of mind and heart, gradually opening themselves 150 ELSIE'S WIDOWHOOD. to his view as day after day they met in the un- restrained familiar intercourse of the home circle, or walked or rode out together, sometimes in the company of others, sometimes alone. t Mr. Embury made good use of the permission Mrs. Travilla had granted him, and occasionally forestalling Cyril's attentions, led the latter to look upon him as a rival. Molly watched it all, and though now one and now the other devoted an hour to her, sitting by her side in the house doing his best to entertain 1 her with conversation, or pushing her wheeled chair about the walks in the beautiful grounds, or taking her out for a drive, thought both were in pursuit of Isa. It was their pleasure to wait upon Isa, Elsie and Vi, while pity and benevolence alone led them to bestow some time and effort upon her- self a poor cripple whom no one could really enjoy taking about. She had but a modest opinion of her own at- tractions, and would have been surprised to learn ihow greatly she was really admired by both gen- tlemen, for her good sense, her talent, energy and perseverance in her chosen line of work, and her constant cheerfulness ; how brilliant and entertaining they often found her talk, pro- nouncing it "bright, sparkling, witty ;" how at- tractive her intellectual countanence, and her bright, dark, expressive eyes. CHAPTER XIV. Something the heart must have to cherish, Most love and joy, and sorrow learn ; Something with passion clasp or perish, And in itself to ashes burn." Longfellow. ' MOLLY, how you do work ! a great deal too hard, I am sure," said the younger Elsie, coming into her cousin's room, to find her at her writing desk, pen in hand, as usual, an unfinished manu- script before her, and books and papers scattered about. Molly looked up with a forced smile : she was not in mirthful mood. " It is because I am so slow that I must keep at it or I get nothing done." '""Well, there's no need," said Elsie, "and really, Molly dear, I do believe you would gain time by resting more and oftener than you do. Who can work fast and well when brain and body are both weary ? I have come to ask if you will take a drive with our two grandpas, grandma and Mrs. Carrington ?" "Thank you kindly, but I can't spare the time to-day." "But don't you think you ought? Your health is cf more importance than that manu- script. I am sure, Molly, you need the rest. J 152 ELSIE'S WIDOWHOOD. have noticed that you are growing thin and pale of late, and look tired almost all the time." "I was out for an hour thislhorning." " An hour ! and the weather is so delightful, everything out of doors looking so lovely, that the rest of us find it next to impossible to content ourselves within doors for an hour. Some of us are going to play croquet. If you will not drive, won't you let one of the servants wheel you out there near enough to enable you to watch the game ?" "Ploase don't think me ungracious," Molly answered, coloring, "but I really should prefer to stay here and work." " I think Aunt Enna is going with us, and you will be left quite alone, unless you will let me stay, or send a servant to sit with you," Elsie But Molly insisted that she would rather be alone. " And you know," she added, pointing to a silver hand bell on the table before her, "I can ring if I need anything." So Elsie went rather sadly away, more than half suspecting that Molly was grieving over her inability to move about as others did, and take part in the active sports they found so enjoyable and healthful. And indeed she had hardly closed the door between them when the tears began to roll down Molly's cheeks. She wiped them away and tried ELSIE'S WIDOWHOOD. 153 to go on with her work ; but they came faster and faster, till throwing down her pen she hid her face in her hands, and burst into passionate weeping, sobs shaking her whole frame. A longing so intense had come over her to leave that chair, to walk, to run, to leap and dance, as she had delighted to do in the old days before that terrible fall. She wanted to wander over the velvety lawn beneath her win- dows, to pluck for herself the many-hued, sweet- scented flowers, growing here and there in the grass. Kind hands were always ready to gather and bring them to her, but it was not like walk- ing about among them, stooping down and plucking them with her own fingers. Oh to feel her feet under her and wander at her own sweet will about the beautiful grounds, over the hills and through the woods ! Oh to feel that she was a fit mate for some one who might some day love and cherish her as Mr. Travilla had loved and cherished her whom he so fondly called his "little wife !" She pitied her cousin for her sad bereavement; her heart had often, often bled for her because of her loss ; but ah ! it were "better to have loved and lost, than never to have loved at all." Never to love, never to be loved, that was the hardest part of it all. There was Dick, to be sure, the dear fellow ! how she did love him ! and she believed he 154 ELSIE'S WIDOWHOOD. loved her almost as well ; but the time would come when another would have the first place in his heart ; perhaps it had already come. Her mother's affection was something, but it was the love of a stronger nature than her own that she craved, a staff to lean upon, a guiding, protecting love, a support such as is the strong, stately oak to the delicate, clinging vine. There were times when she keenly enjoyed her independence, perfect liberty to control her own actions and choose her own work ; her ability to earn a livelihood for herself ; but at this moment all that was as nothing. Usually she was submissive under her afflic- tion ; now her heart rebelled fiercely against it. She called it a hard and cruel fate, to which she could not, would not be resigned. She was frightened at herself as she felt that she was so rebellious, and that she was envying the happiness of the cousins who had for years treated her with unvarying kindness ; that her lot seemed the harder by contrast with theirs. And yet how well she knew that theirs was not perfect happiness that the death of the husband and father had been a sore trial to them all. Through the open window she saw the hand- some, easy-rolling family carriage drive away and disappear among the trees on the farther side of the lawn ; then the croquet party setting ELSIE'S WIDOWHOOD. 155 out for the scene of their proposed game, which was at some little distance from the mansion, though within the grounds. She noticed that Isa and Mr. Keith walked first very close together, and looking very like a pair of lovers, she thought then Mr. Embury with Violet's graceful, girlish figure by his side, she walking with a free, springing step that once poor Molly might have emulated, as she called to mind with a bitter groan and an almost frantic effort to rise from her chair. Ah, what was it that so sharpened the sting brought by the thought of her own impotence, as she saw Vi's bright, beautiful face uplifted to that of her companion ? A sudden glimpse into her own heart sent a crimson tide all over the poor girl's face. " Molly Percival, what a fool you are !" she exclaimed half aloud, then burst into hysterical weeping ; but calming herself almost instantly. "No, I will not, will not be so weak !" she said, turning resolutely from the window. " I have been happy in my work, happy and content, and so will I be again. No foolish impossible dreams for you, Molly Percival ! no dog in the manger feelings either ; you shall not indulge them." But the thread of thought was broken and lost, and she tried in vain to recover it ; a dis- tant hum of blithe voices came now and again to her ear with disturbing influence. 156 ELSIE'S WIDOWHOOD. She could not rise and go away from it. Again the pen was laid aside, and lying back in her chair with her head against its cushions, she closed her eyes with a weary sigh, a tear trickling slowly down her cheek. " I cannot work," she murmured. " Ah, if I could only stop thinking these miserable, wicked thoughts !" Mrs. Travilla, returning from a visit to the quarter, stopped a moment to watch the croquet players. "Where is Molly?" she asked of her eldest daughter ; " did she go with your grandpa and the others?" " No, mamma, she is in her room, hard at work as usual, poor thing !" " She is altogether too devoted to her work; she ought to be out enjoying this delicious weather. Surely you did not neglect to invite her to join you here, Elsie ?" " No, mamma, I did my best to persuade her. I can hardly bear to think she is shut up there alone, while all the rest of us are having so pleasant an afternoon." " It is too bad," Mr. Embury remarked, " and I was strongly tempted to venture into her sanctum and try my powers of persuasion ; but refrained lest I should but disturb the flow of thought and get myself into disgrace without accomplishing my end. Have you the courage to attempt the thing, Mrs. Travilla?" ELSIE'S WIDOWHOOD. 157 "I think I must try," she answered, with a smile, as she turned away in the direction of the house. She found Molly at work, busied over a trans- lation for which she had laid aside the unfinished story interrupted by the younger Elsie's visit. She welcomed her cousin with a smile, but aot a very bright or mirthful one, and traces of tears about her eyes were very evident. " My dear child," Elsie said, in tones as ten- der and compassionate as she would have used to one of her own darlings, and laying her hand affectionately on the young girl's shoulder, " I do not like to see you so hard at work while every one else is out enjoying this delightful weather. How can you resist the call of all the bloom and beauty you can see from your win- dow there ?" " It is attractive, cousin," Molly answered ; " I could not resist it if if I could run about as others do," she added, with a tremble in her voice. " My poor, poor child !" Elsie said with emo- tion, bending down to press a kiss on the girl's forehead. Molly threw her arms about her, and burst into tears and sobs. " Oh it is so hard, so hard ! so cruel that I must sit here a helpless cripple all my days ! How can I bear it, for years and years, it may be !" 153 ELSIE'S WIDOWHOOD. "Dear child, ' sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof.' Let us live one day at a time, leaving the future with our heavenly Father, trusting in His promise that as our day our strength shall be. Rutherford says, ' These many days I have had no morrow at all.' If it were so with all of us, how the burdens would be lightened ! for a very large part of them is ap- prehension for the future. Is it not ?" " Yes, and I am ashamed of my weakness and cowardice." "Dear child, I have often admired your strength and courage under a trial I fear I should not bear half so well." Molly lifted to her cousin's a face full of won- der, surprise and gratitude ; then it clouded again and tears trembled in her eyes and in her Toice, as she said, " But, Cousin Elsie, you must let me work ; it is my life, my happiness ; the only kind I can ever hope for, ever have. Others may busy themselves with household cares, may fill their hearts with the sweet loves of kind hus- bands and dear little children ; but these things are not for me. cousin, forgive me !" she cried, as she saw the pained look in Elsie's face. " I did not mean I did not intend " "To remind me of the past," Elsie whis- pered, struggling with her tears. " It is full of sweet memories, that I would not be without for anything. Oh true indeed is. i ELSIE'S WIDOWHOOD 15 Tis better to have loved and lost. Than never to have loved at all." " Cousin Elsie, your faith and patience are beautiful !" cried Molly, impulsively. " You never murmur at your cross, you are satisfied with all God sends. I wish it were so with me, but cousin, cousin, my very worst trouble is that I am afraid I am not a Christian ! that I have been deceiving myself all these years !" she ended with a burst of bitter weeping. " Molly dear." Elsie said, folding her in her arms and striving to soothe her with caresses, "you surprise me very much, for I have long seen the lonely fruit of the Spirit in your life and conversation. Do you not love Jesus and trust in him alone for salvation ?" " I thought I did, and oh I cannot bear to think of not belonging to him ! it breaks my heart !" " Then why should you think so ?" " Because I find so much of evil in myself. If you knew the rebellious thoughts and feel- ings I have had this very day you would not think me a Christian. I have hated myself be- cause of them." " You have struggled to cast them out, you have not encouraged or loved them. Is that what they do who have no love to Christ ? no de- sire after conformity to his will ? It is the child of God who hates sin and struggles against it. But it is not necessary to decide whether 160 ELSIE'S WIDOWHOOD. you have or have not been mistaken in your past experience, since you may come to Jesus now just as if you had never come before : give your- self to him and accept his offered salvation with- out stopping to ask whether it is for the first or the ten thousandth time. Oh that is always my comfort when assailed by doubts and fears I ' Behold, now is the accepted time ; behold, now is the day of salvation.' Jesus says, to-day and every day, ' Come unto me, all ye that labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.' * Him that cometh unto me, I will in no wise cast out.'" Glad tears glistened in Molly's eyes. "And he will pardon my iniquity though it is so great." she murmured, with trembling lip and half averted face : "he will forgive all my trans- gressions and my sins, cleanse me from them and love me freely." < " Yes, dear child, he will. And now put away your work for the rest of this day and come out into the pure, sweet air. If we weary our poor, weak bodies too much, Satan is but too ready to take advantage of our physical condition to as- sault us with temptations, doubts and fears." " I will do as you think best, cousin," was the submissive reply. Elsie at once summoned a servant, and in a few moments Molly's chair was rolling along the gravelled walks, underneath the grand old trees, ELSIE'S WIDOWHOOD. 161 a gentle breeze from the lakelet, laden with the scent of magnolias and orange blossoms, gath- ered in its passage across the lawn, softly fan- ning her cheek, her cousin walking by her side and entertaining her with pleasant chat. Kosie and Walter came running to meet them. They were glad to see Molly out : they filled her lap with flowers and her ears with their sweet in- nocent prattle, her heart growing lighter as she listened and drank in beside all the sweet sights and scents and sounds of nature in her most bountiful mood. They made a partial circuit of the grounds that at last brought them to the croquet players, who, one and all, greeted Molly's arrival with expressions of satisfaction or delight. Each brought an offering of bud or blossom, the loveliest and sweetest of flowers were scattered so profusely on every hand. Mr. Embury's was a half blown rose, and Elsie, furtively watching her charge, noted the quick blush with which it was received, the care with which it was stealthily treasured afterward. A suspicion stirred in her breast, a fear that made her heart tremble and ache for the poor girl. Mr. Embury spent the evening at Viamede. Molly was in the parlor with the rest, and the greater part of the time he was close at her side. Both talked more than usual, often addressing 162 ELSIE'S WIDOWHOOD. each other, and seemed to outdo themselves in sparkling wit and brilliant repartee. Molly's cheeks glowed and her eyes shone: she had never been so handsome or fascinating before, and Mr. Embury hung upon her words. Elsie's heart sank as she saw it all. "My poor child !" she sighed to herself. ' ' I must warn him that her affections are not to be trifled with. He may think her sad affliction is her shield raising a barrier that she herself must know to be impassable but when was heart controlled by reason ?" The next morning Enna, putting her head in at the door of the dressing-room where her niece was busy with her little ones, said : " Elsie, I wish you'd come and speak a word to Molly. She'll hear reason from you, maybe, though she thinks I haven't sense enough to give her any advice." "What is it?" Elsie asked, obeying the sum- mons at once, leaving Rosie and Walter in Aunt Chloe's charge. " Just come to her room, won't you ?" Enna said, leading the way. " I don't see what pos- sesses the child to act so. He's handsome and rich and everything a reasonable woman could ask. I want you to But there ! he's gone, and it's too late P Elsie following her glance through a window ihey were passing, saw Mr. Embury's carriage driving away. ELSIE'S WIDOWHOOD. 164 " Did he ask Molly to go with him ?" she in- quired. '' Yes, and she wouldn't do it ; though I did all I could to make her. Come and speak to her though, so she'll know better next time." Molly sat in an attitude of dejection, her face hidden in her hands, and did not seem conscious of their entrance until Elsie's hand was softly laid on her shoulder, while the pitying voice asked, '-'What is the matter, Molly dear?" Then the bowed head was lifted, and Elsie saw that her eyes were full of tears, her cheeks wet with them. "Oh, Cousin Elsie," she sobbed, " don't ask me to go with him. I must not. I must try to keep away from him. Oh, why did we ever meet ? Shall I ever be rid of this weary pain in my heart?" "Yes, dear child, it will pass away in timt>" her cousin whispered, putting kind arms about her. " He must stay away, and you will learn to be happy again in your work, and, better still, in the one love that can never fail you in this world or the next." " He is a good man, don't blame him," mur- mured the poor girl, hiding her blushing face on her cousin's shoulder. " I will try not ; but such selfish thoughtless- ness is almost unpardonable. He must not come here any more." " No. no : don't tell him that I don't let him 164 ELSIE'S WIDOWHOOD. suspect that I care whether he does or not. And he enjoys it so much, he is so lonely in his own house." "Do not fear that I will betray you, poor, dear, unselfish child," Elsie said ; " but I must protect you somehow. And, Molly dear, though I believe married life is the happiest, where there is deep, true love, founded on respect and perfect confidence, I am quite sure that it is possible for a woman to be very happy though sha live single all her days. There is my dear old Aunt Wealthy, for example ; she must be now nearly ninety. I have knoAvn her for more than twenty years, and always as one of the cheeriest and happiest people I ever saw." "Did she ever meet any one she cared for ?" Molly asked, still hiding her face. " Yes : she had a sore disappointment in her young days, as she told me herself ; but the wound healed in time." Enna had seated herself in a low rocking- chair by a window, and with hands folded in her lap was keenly eying her daughter and niece. " What are you two saying to each other ?" she demanded. " You talk so low I can only catch a word now and then ; but I don't believe, Elsie, that you are coaxing Molly to behave as I want her to." "Poor mother!" sighed Molly; "she can't understand it." CHAPTER XV. " Man's leve is of man's life a thing apart, 'Tis woman's whole existence." Byron: FINDING her own thoughts full of Molly and her troubles to the exclusion of everything else, Elsie presently dismissed her little ones to their play, spent a few moments in consulting her best Friend, then went in search of her father. She would not betray Molly even to him, but it would be safe, helpful, comforting to confide her own doubts, fears and anxieties. She found him in the library, and alone. He was standing before a window with his back to- ward her as she entered, and did not seem to hear her light footsteps till she was close at his side ; then turning hastily, he caught her in his arms, strained her to his breast, and kissed her again and again with passionate fondness. "What is it, papa?" she asked in surprise, look- ing up into his face and seeing it full of emotion that seemed a strange blending of pain and pleasure. " My darling, my darling !" he said in low, tremulous tones, holding her close, and repeat- ing his caresses, " how shall I ever make up to you for the sorrows of your infancy ? the culpa- 166 ELSIE'S WIDOWHOOD. We, heartless neglect with which your lather treated you then ? I see I surprise you by re- ferring to it now, but I have been talking with one of the old servants who retains a vivid re- membrance of your babyhood here, and your heart-rending grief when forced away from your home and almost all you had learned to love. Such a picture of it has she given me that I fairly long to go back to that time and take my baby girl to my heart and comfort her." "Dear papa, I hardly remember it now," she said, laying her head down on his breast ; " and oh I have the sweetest memories of years and years of the tenderest fatherly love and care '. love and care that surround me still and form one of my best and dearest earthly blessings. If the Lord will, may we long be spared to each other, my dear, dear father !" His response was a fervent "Amen," and sit- ting down upon a sofa, he drew her to a seat by his side. " I have come to you for help and advice in a new difficulty, papa," she said. " I fear I have made a sad mistake in allowing Mr. Embury's visits here ; and yet I cannot exclude from my house gentlemen visitors of unexceptionable character." " No ; and he appears to be all that, and more a sincere, earnest Christian. But what ia it that you regret or fear ? Elsie is engaged, ELSIE'S WIDOWHOOD. 16? Violet very young, and for Isa supposing there were any such prospect it would be a most suitable match." " But Molly ?" " Molly I" he exclaimed with a start. " Poor child ! she could never think of marriage !" "No, papa, but hearts don't reason and love comes unbidden." " And you think she cares for him ?" " It would not be strange if she should ; he is a very agreeable man, and Did you notice them last night ? I thought his actions decidedly loverlike, and there was something in her face that made me tremble for the poor child's fu- ture peace of mind." " Poor child !" he echoed ; " poor, poor child I I am glad you called my attention to it. I must give Embury a hint : he cannot, of course, be thinking what he is about : for I am sure he is not the heartless wretch he would be if he could wreck her happiness intentionally." " Thank you, dear papa. You will know ex- actly how to do it without the least compromise of the dear girl's womanly pride and delicacy of feeling, or offending or hurting him. "You spoke just now of Isa," she went on presently. " I should be glad if she and Mr. Embury fancied each other ; such a match would be very pleasing to Aunt Louise on account of his wealth and social position, little as she would like his piety, but " 168 ELSIE'S WIDOWHOOD. " Well, daughter ?" "Have you noticed how constantly Cyril geeks her companionship ? how naturally the others leave those two to pair off together? They sit and read or chat together by the hour out yonder under the trees ; scarce a day passes without its long, lonely ramble or ride. He talks to her of his work too, in which his whole heart is engaged ; listens attentively to all she says turning in the most interested way to her for an opinion, no matter what subject is broach- ed ; listens with delight to her music too, and sometimes reads his sermons to her for the bene- fit of her criticism, or consults her in regard to his choice of a text." Mr. Dinsmore's countenance expressed ex- treme satisfaction. " I am glad of it," he said ; "they seem made for each other." " But Aunt Louise, papa ?" " Will not fancy a poor clergyman for a son- in-law, yet will consider even that better than not seeing her daughter married at all. And if the two most intimately concerned are happy and content, what matter for the rest ?" " Oh papa !" Elsie returned with a smile that had something of old-time archness in it, "have not your opinions in regard to the rights of parents and the duties' of children changed somewhat since my early girlhood ?" " Circumstances alter cases," he answered with ELSIE'S WIDOWHOOD. 169 a playful caress. " I should never have object- ed to so wise a choice as Isa's always suppos- ing that she has made the one we are talking of." "And you will not mind if Aunt Louise blames you ? or me ?" " I shall take all the blame and not mind it in the least." Yes, Cyril Keith and Isadore Conly were made for each other, and had become conscious of the fact, though no word of love had yet been spoken. To him she was the sweetest and loveliest of her sex, in whom he found a stronger union of beauty, grace, accomplishments, sound sense and earnest piety than in any other young lady of his acquaintance ; while to her he was the impersonation of all that was truly noble, manly and Christian. They were dreaming love's young dream, and found intense enjoyment each in the other's so- ciety, especially amid all the loveliness of nature that surrounded them. Cyril's was a whole-hearted consecration to his divine Master and that loved Master's work, but this human love interfered not in any way with that, for it is of God's appointment. " ' And the Lord God said, It is not good that the man should be alone ; I will make him an help meet for him.' 'Whoso findeth a wife 170 ELSIE'S WIDOWHOOD. findeth a good thing, and obtainetli favour of the Lord.'" " How like you that is, papa dear," Elsie said ; " but it would be easier to me to bear blame myself than to have it heaped upon you. I suppose, though, that it would be use- less to attempt any interference with the course of true love ?" "Yes; we will simply let them alone." Mr. Dinsmore rode over to Magnolia Hall that afternoon to seek an interview with its owner ; but learned that he was not at home, and might not be for a day or two. No one knew just when he would return. So the only course now left seemed to be to wait till he should call again at Viarnede. He had been an almost daily visitor of late, and often sent some token of remembrance by a servant fruit, flowers, game or fish, or it might be a book from his library which was not found in theirs. But now one, two, three days passed and nothing was seen or heard of him. Sad, wearisome days they were to Molly : men- tal labor was next to impossible ; she could not even read with any enjoyment ; her heart was heavy with grief and unsatisfied longing, inten- sified by her mothers constant reiteration, " You've offended him, and he'll never come again ; you've thrown away the best chance a ELSIE'S WIDOWHOOD. 171 girl ever had ; and you'll never see another like it." Then it was unusually long since she had heard from Dick ; and she had waited for news from a manuscript which had cost her months of hard work, and on which great expectations were based, till her heart was sick with hope de- ferred. It was on the morning of the fourth day that Molly, having persuaded her mother to go for a walk with her grandfather and Mrs. Carrington, summoned a servant and desired to be taken out into the grounds. She sat motionless in her chair gazing in mournful silence on all the luxuriant beauty that surrounded her, while the man wheeled her up one walk and down another. At length, " That will do, Joe," she said; " you may stop the chair under that magnolia yonder, and leave me there for an hour." "Fse 'fraid you git tired, Miss Molly, and no- body roun' for to wait on you," he remarked when he had placed her in the desired spot. "No ; I have the bell here, and it can be heard at the house. I have a book, too, to amuse my- self with : and the gardener yonder is within eight. You need not fear to leave me." He walked away and she opened her book. But she scarcely looked at it. Her thoughts were busying themselves with something else, and her eyes were full of tears. 172 ELSIE'S WIDOWHOOD. A quick, manly step on the gravel walk be- hind her startled her and sent a vivid color over face and neck. " Good morning, Miss Percival ; I am fortu- nate indeed in finding you here alone," a voice said, close at her side. " Good morning,' Mr. Embury," she returned, with a vain effort to steady her tones, and with- out looking up. He took possession of a rustic seat close to which her chair was standing. "Molly, my dear Miss Molly," he said, in some agitation, "I fear I have unwittingly offended." "No, no, no!" she answered, bursting into tears in spite of herself. " There, what a baby lam!" dashing them angrily away. "I wish you wouldn't come here and set me to crying." " Let me tell you something, let me ask you one question ; and then if you bid me, I will go away and never come near you again," he said, taking her hand and holding it fast. "Molly, I love you. I want you to be my wife. Will you?" " Oh you don't mean it ! you can't mean it I no man in his senses would want to marry me a poor helpless cripple !" she cried, trying to pull the hand away, " and it's a cruel, cruel jest ! Oh how can you !" and covering her face with the free hand, she sobbed as if her heart would break. ELSIE'S WIDOWHOOD. 173 " Don't, don't, dear Molly," he entreated. *' I am not jesting, nor am I rushing into this thing hastily or thoughtlessly. Your very help- lessness draws me to you and makes you doubly dear. I want to take care of you, my poor child. I want to make up your loss to you as far as my love and sympathy can ; to make your life bright and happy in spite of your terrible trial." " You are the noblest, most unselfish man I ever heard of," she said, wiping away her tears to give him a look of amazement and admira- tion ; " but I cannot be so selfish as to take all when I can give nothing in return." " Do you call yourself with your sweet face, cheery disposition, brilliant talents, and conver- sational powers that render you the most enter- taining and charming of companions nothing ? I think you a greater prize than half the women who have the free use of all their limbs." "You are very kind to say it." "No, I am not, for it is the simple, unvar- nished truth. Molly, if you can love me, I should rather have you than any other woman on earth. How your presence would brighten my home ! I give all indeed ! you will be worth more to me than all I have to give in re- turn. Molly, have you no love to bestow upon poor me ?" She had ceased the struggle to free her hand 174 ELSIE'S WIDOWHOOD. from the strong yet tender clasp in which it was held, but her face was averted and tears were falling fast. His words had sent a thrill of exquisite joy to her heart, but instantly it changed to bitter sorrow. " You cannot have counted the cost/' she said. " I am poor ; I have nothing at all but the pittance I earn by my pen. And think : I can never walk by your side : I cannot go about your house and see that your comfort is not neglected, or your substance wasted. I can- not nurse you in sickness or wait upon you in health as another woman might. Oh cannot you see that I have nothing to give you in return for all you in your wonderful generosity are offering to me ?" " Your love, dear girl, and the blessed priv- ilege of taking care of you, are all I ask, all I want can you not give me these ?" " Oh, why do you tempt me so ?" she cried. " Tempt you ? would it be a sin to love me ? to give yourself to me when I want you so much, so very much ?" " It seems to me it would be taking advantage of the most unheard-of generosity. What wo- man's heart could stand out against it ?" " Ah, then you do love me !" he exclaime I. in accents of joy, and lifting her hand to his ' lips. " You will be mine ? my own dear wife ? a sweet mother to my darlings. I have brought ELSIE 8 WIDO WHOOD. 175 them with me, that their beauty and sweetness, their pretty innocent ways, may plead my cause with you, for I know that you love little chil- dren." He was gone before she could reply, and the next moment was at her side again, bearing in his arms two lovely little creatures of three and five. " These are my babies," he said, sitting down with one upon each knee. " Corinna," to the eldest, " don't you want this sweet lady to come and live with us and be your dear mamma? " The child took a long, searching look into Molly's face before she answered ; then, with a bright, glad smile breaking like sunlight over her own, " Yes, papa, I do ! she said, emphati- cally. " Won't you come, pretty lady ? Madie and I will be good children, and love you ever so much. " And she held up her rosebud mouth for a kiss. Molly gave it very heartily. " Me, too you mustn't fordet to tiss Madie," the little one said. Molly motioned the father to set the child in her lap, and, putting an arm about Corinna, petted and fondled them both for a little, the mother instinct stirring strongly within her the while. " There, that will do, my pets ; we must not tire the dear lady," Mr. Embury said presently, lifting his youngest and setting her on her feet 176 ELSIE'S WIDOWHOOD. beside her sister. " Go back now to your mammy. See, yonder she is, waiting for you." "What darlings they are." Molly said, follow- ing them with wistful, longing eyes. "Yes. Ah, can your heart resist their appeal ?" "How could I, chained to my chair,, do a mother's part by them ?" she asked mournfully, and with a heavy sigh. " Their physical needs are well attended to," he said, again taking her hand, while his eyes sought hers with wistful, pleading tenderness ; "it is motherly counsels, sympathy, love they want. Is it not in your power to give them all these ? I would throw no burdens on you, love ; I only aim to show you that the giving need not necessarily be all on my side, the receiving all on yours." "How kind, how noble you are," she said, in moved tones. " But your relatives ? your other children ? how would they feel to see you joined for life to a " "Don't say it," he interrupted, in tones oi tenderest compassion. " My boys will be drawn te you by your helplessness, while they will be Tery proud of your talents and your sweetness. I have no other near relatives but two brothers, who have no right to concern themselves in the matter, nor will be likely to care to do so. But, O, dearest girl, what shall I, what can I say to ELSIE'S WIDOWHOOD. 17? convince you that you are my heart's desire ? that I want you, your love, your dear compan- ionship, more than tongue can tell ? Will you refuse them to me ?" She answered only with a look, but it said all he wished. "Bless you, darling !" he whispered, putting his arm about her, while her head dropped upon his shoulder, "you have made me very happy." Molly was silent, was weeping, but for very gladness ; her heart sang for joy ; not that a beautiful home, wealth, and all the luxury and ease it could purchase, would now be hers, but that she was loved by one so noble and generous, so altogether worthy of her highest respect, her warmest affection, the devotion of her whole- life, which she inwardly vowed should be his. She would strive to be to him such a wife as Elsie had been to her husband, such a mother to his children as her sweet cousin was to hers. CHAPTER XVI. " j saw her, and I loved her I sought her, and I won." " Across the threshold led. And every t-ear kiss'd off as soon as shed. His house she enters, there to be a light Shining within, when all without is night ; A guardian angel, o'er his life presiding, Doubling his pleasure, and his cares dividing." Roger. " You declined a drive with me the last time I asked you," Mr. Embury remarked, breaking a momentary silence that had fallen between them, " but will you not be more gracious to- day ? My carriage is near at hand, and I have a great desire to take you for an airing you and the babies." Blushing deeply, Molly said, "Yes, if you wish it, and will bring me back before I am missed." " I shall take good care of you, as who would not of his own ?" be said, bending down to look into her face with a proud, fond smile ; " yes, you are mine now, dearest, and I shall never re- sign my claim. Ah," as he lifted his head again, " here comes your uncle, and I fancy he eyes me with distrust. Mr. Dinsmore," and he stepped forward with outstretched hand, "how do you do, sir ? What do you say to receiving me into ELSIE'S WIDOWHOOD. 179 the family ? I trust you will not object, for this dear girl intends to give me the right to call you uncle." Mr. Dinsmore grasped the hand, looking in silent astonishment from one to the other. He read the story of their love in both faces Molly's downcast and blushing, yet happy ; Mr. Em- bury's overflowing with unfeigned delight. " I assure you, sir," he went on, " I am fully aware that she is a prize any man might be proud to win. Your niece is no ordinary woman : her gifts and graces are many and great." " She is all that you have said, and even more," her uncle returned, finding his voice. "And yet you are quite sure that this is not a sudden impulse for which you may some day be sorry >" He had stepped to Molly's other side and taken her hand in his, in a protecting, fatherly way. "It would wreck her happiness," he added, in moved tones, "and that is very dear to me." " It cannot be dearer to you, sir, than it is to me," the lover answered; "and rest assured your fears are groundless. It is no sudden im- pulse on my part, but deliberate action taken after weeks of careful and prayerful considera- tion. You seem to stand in the place of a father to her ; will you give her to me ?" " Mr. Embury, you arc i\ i .e noblest of men, 180 ELSI& b WIDOWHOOD. and must forgive me that I had some suspicion that you were thoughtlessly trifling with the child's affections. I see you hare won her heart, and may you be very happy together." Mr. Dinsmore was turning away, but Mr. Embury stopped him. " Let me thank you, sir," he said, again hold- ing out his hand. "We are going for a little drive," he added, " and please let no one be anxious about Miss Percival. I am responsible for her safe return." Molly's chair rolled on with rapid, steady movement to the entrance to the grounds, where Mr. Embury's carriage stood ; then she felt herself carefully, tenderly lifted from one to the other and comfortably established on a softly cushioned seat. How like a delightful dream it all seemed the swift, pleasant motion through the pure, sweet, fragrant air ; beautiful scenery on every hand; the prattle of infant voices and the whispers of love in her ear. Should she not awake presently to its unreality ? awake to find herself still the lonely, unloved woman she was in her own esteem but an hour ago, and who by reason of her sad infirmity could look forward to nothing else through life ? They turned in at an open gateway, and Molly, suddenly rousing herself, said, in sur- prise, " "We are entering some one's private grounds, are we not ?" ELSIE'S WIDOWHOOD. 181 " Yes," was the quiet reply, " but there is no objection. The owner and I are on the most intimate terms. I admire the place very much, and want you to see it, so we will drive all around the grounds." And he gave the order to the coachman. Molly looked and admired. "Charming! almost if not quite equal to Viamedo." His eyes shone. "Your taste agrees with mine," he said. " Look this way. "We have a good view of the house from here. What do you think of it ?" " That it is just suited to its surroundings, and must be a delightful residence." " So it is ; and I want to show you the inside too. There's no objection," as he read hesita- tion and disapproval in her face ; "the master and mistress are not there, and in fact I have charge of the place just now, and am quite at liberty to show it to strangers." The next moment they drew up before the front entrance. Mr. Embury hastily alighted and lifted out the little ones, saying in a low tone something which Molly did not hear as he set them down. They ran in at the open door, and turning to her agaip he took her in his strong arms and bore her into a lordly entrance hall ; then on through one spacious, elegantly furnished room after another parlors, library, dining and 182 ELSIE'S WIDOWHOOD. drawing-rooms moving slowly that she might have time so gaze and admire, and now and then setting her down for a few moments in an easy chair or on a luxurious sofa, usually before a rare painting or some other beautiful work of art which he thought she would particularly en- joy- The children had disappeared, and they were quite alone. He had reserved a charming boudoir for the last. Open doors gave tempting glimpses of dressing and bedrooms beyond. " These," he said, placing her in a delight- fully easy, velvet cushioned chair, and standing by her side, " are the apartments of the mis- tress of the mansion, as you have doubtless al- ready conjectured. What do you think of them?" " That they are very beautiful, very luxuri- ous. And oh what a lovely view from yonder window !" " And from this, is it not ?" he said, stepping aside and turning her chair a little that she might see, through a vista of grand old trees, the lagoon beyond sparkling in the sunlight. "Oh that is finer still!" she cried. "I should think one might almost be content to live a close prisoner here." " Then I may hope my dear wife will not be nnhappy here ? will not regret leaving the ELSIE'S WIDOWHOOD. 183 beauties of Viamede and the charming society there for this place and the companionship of its owner ? Molly, dearest, this is Magnolia Hall ; you are its mistress, and these are your own rooms," he said, kneeling by her side to fold her to his heart with tenderest caresses. " It is too much, oh you are too good to me !" she sobbed, as her head dropped upon his shoulder. On leaving Mr. Embury and Molly, Mr. Bins more hastened to join his wife and daughter, who were sitting together on the lawn. The in- terview between the lovers having taken place in a part of the grounds not visible from where they sat, they had seen nothing of it. " You look like the bearer of glad tidings, my dear," Rose remarked, glancing inquiringly at her husband as he seated himself at her side. ''And so I am, wife," he answered joyously. * Elsio, you may spare yourself any further re- grets because of your kindness to Mr. Embury. He is a noble, generous-hearted fellow, and very much in love with our poor, dear Molly. They are en gaged." "Engaged?" echoed both ladies simultane- ously, as much surprised and pleased as he had hoped to see them. "Yes," he said, and went on to repeat what had passed between himself and the newly- affianced pair. 184 ELSIE'S WIDOWHOOD. " Dear Molly/' Elsie said with tears trembling in her eyes, " I trust there are many very happy days in store for her. And how pleased Aunt Enna will be, she was so desirous to bring about the match." "Molly herself should have the pleasure of telling her." "Yes, indeed, papa." "There is something else," Mr. Dinsmore said. " At Mr. Embury's suggestion I wrote to Dick two or three weeks ago, telling him that there was a good opening for a physician here, and asking if he would not like to come and settle if pleased with the country. His answer came this morning, and he will be with ns in a few days." "How glad I am !" was Elsie's exclamation. " Molly's cup of happiness will be full to over- flowing." Rose, too, was rejoiced ; but she had heard before of the invitation to Dick, and was less surprised at this news than Elsie was. The ladies had their work, Mr. Dinsmore the morning paper, and the three were still sitting there when Mr. Embury's carriage returned. Molly's face was radiant with happiness ; Mr. Embury's also ; and the faces of the friends who gathered about them in the library, whither he carried her, seemed to reflect the glad light IB theirs. ELSIE'S WIDOWHOOD. 185 Everybody was rejoiced at Molly's good for- tune, and pleased to receive Mr. Embury into the family, for they all respected and liked him. Enna's delight on hearing the news was un- bounded; she half smothered her daughter with kisses, and exclaimed over and over again, "I knew he wanted you! And didn't I tell you there'd be somebody better worth having than Elsie's lover coming after you some day? And I'm as glad as can be that my girl's going to be married the first of all before Louise's girls, or Elsie's either!" "I can't see that that makes the least differ- ence, mother," Molly said, laughing for very gladness. " But oh what a good and kind man he is! and what a lovely home we are to have! for, mother, he says you are to live with us al-, ways if you like." " Now that is nice!" Enna said, much gratL fied. " And is it as pretty as Viamede?" " It is almost if not quite as beautiful as Via- mede, though not quite so large; both house and grounds are, I believe, a little smaller." " How soon are you going to be married?" " I don't know just when, mother; the day has not been set." " I hope it will be soon, just as soon as we can get you ready." This was a little private chat in Molly's room 186 ELSIE'S WIDOWHOOD. after Mr. Embury had gone away. She had asked to have her chair wheeled in there, and to be left alone with her mother while she told her the news of her engagement. " I must consult with uncle and aunt and Cousin Elsie about that," she said in answer to her mother's last remark. ""Will you please open the door now and ask them to come ill? I don't care if the rest come too." " Well, Molly, when, where, and by whom is the knot to be tied?" asked Mr. Dinsmore playfully, as he stood by her side looking down with a kindly smile at her blushing, happy face. tf uncle, so many questions at once!" " Well, one at a time then: When?" "That foolishly impatient man wanted me to say to-night," she answered, laughing, and when I told him how absurd an idea that was, he insisted that a week was quite long enough for him to go on living alone." "A week!" exclaimed her aunt. "You surely did not consent to that?" " No," Aunt Hose, " but I believe I half con- sented to try to make my preparations in two weeks. I doubt if we can quite settle that question now." " There must be time allowed for furnishing you with a handsome trousseau, my dear child/' Elsie said, " but possibly it can be accomplished ELSIE'S WIDOWHOOD. 187 in a fortnight. As to the next question where? you surely will let it be here, in my house?" " Gladly, cousin, if pleasing to you," Molly answered with a grateful, loving look. "And Mr. Keith shall officiate, if he will. Of course it must be a very quiet affair; I should prefer that under any circumstances." "You will invite Dick, will you not?" her uncle asked with a twinkle in his eye. "Dick! oh the dear fellow! I ought to have him. I wonder if I could persuade him to leave his practice long enough to come. Two weeks would give him time to get here if I write at once." " No need," her uncle replied. " Providence permitting, he will be here in less than half that time." Then the whole story came out in answer to Molly's look of astonished inquiry, and her cup of happiness was indeed full to overflowing. "Where did you drive, Molly?" asked Isa. " But I suppose you hardly know; you could see nothing but your companion?" " Ah, Isa, do you judge of me by yourself?" queried Molly gleefully. " By the way, though, I had three companions. But don't I know where I went?" Then smiling, laughing, blushing, rosy and happy as they had never seen her before, she described the darling baby girls and the beauti' ful home. 138 ELSIE'S WIDOWHOODS But the sweet words of love that had been as music to her ear were too sacred for any other. She had quite a large and certainly very at- tentive and interested audience, the whole family having gathered in the room. Enna and the young girls were especially delighted with tne tale she had to tell. " It's just like a story the very nicest kind of a story!" cried Vi, clapping her hands in an ecstasy of delight when Molly came to that part of her narrative where she learned that she herself was to be the mistress of the lordly mansion she had entered as a stranger visitor, with all its wealth of luxury and beauty. The next two or three weeks were full of pleasant bustle and excitement, preparations for the wedding being pushed forward with all possible dispatch, Mr. Embury pleading his loneliness and that he wanted Molly's relatives and friends to see her fairly settled in her new home before they left Viamede for the North. Mr. and Mrs. Dinsmore, with Enna, Isa, the younger Elsie and Violet, took a trip to New Orleans and spent several days in shopping there, laying in great store of rich, costly and beautiful things for Molly's adornment. Mr. Embury, too, paid a flying visit to the city, which resulted in an elegant set of jewels for his bride and some new articles of furniture for her apartments. ELSIE'S WIDOWHOOD. 189 Dick arrived at about the expected time and was joyfully welcomed. His surprise and de- light in view of Molly's prospects were quite sufficient 4o satisfy her, and so greatly was he pleased with the country that in a few days he announced his purpose to remain. Cyril had received a unanimous call from the two churches, and after mature deliberation ac- cepted it, upon which Elsie doubled the salary she had formerly paid, and told him playfully and in private that if he would get a wife whom she could approve she would repair, enlarge, and refurnish the cottage. " You are extremely kind and generous cousin," he stammered, coloring deeply, " and I I would be only too glad to follow out your suggestion. " "Well," she returned in the same playful tone, "what is there to hinder?" " The only woman I could fancy, could love, is so beautiful, fascinating, accomplished, so al- together attractive in every way, that I fear she could hardly be expected to content herself with a poor minister." " I cannot say how that is," Elsie answered with a smile, "but judging by myself I should think she would give her hand wherever her heart has gone ; and if I were a man I should not despair until I had asked and been refused. And, Cyril, though not rich in this world's 190 ELSIE'S WIDOWHOOD. goods, I consider you a fit match for the highest you who are a son of the King." " That sonship is more to me than all the world has to give," he said, looking at her with glistening eyes, " but to others it may seem of little worth." "Not to any one who is of the right spirit to he truly an helpmeet to you. I think I know where your affections are set, my dear cousin, and that by her the true riches are esteemed as by you and me." He thanked her warmly by word and look for her kind sympathy and encouragement, and there the interview ended. But that night, when Elsie was about retiring, Isa came to her, all smiles, tears and blushes, to tell the story of love given and returned. She and Cyril had spent the evening wandering about the grounds alone together in the moon- light, and he had wooed and won his heart's choice. "Dear Isa, I am very, very glad for you and for Cyril," Elsie whispered, clasping her cousin close, and kissing again vnd again the blushing cheek. " I cannot wish anything better for you than that you may be as happy in your wed- ded life as my dear husband and I were." "Nor could I ask a better wish," Isa returned with emotion; "but ah! I fear I can never be the perfect wife you were! And, cousin, I can ELSIE'S WIDOWHOOD. 191 hardly hope for mamma's approval of my choice." " Do not trouble about that now; I think we shall find means to win her consent." " I think grandpa and uncle are sure to ap- prove. " " Yes; and they will be powerful advocates with Aunt Louise; so I think you need not hesi- tate to be as happy as you can," Elsie answered with a smile. " Do you wish the matter kept secret?" " Mr. Keith is with grandpa and uncle now," Isa said, blushing, "and I don't care how soon Aunt Rose and the girls and Dick know it; but if you please, the rest may wait until mamma is heard from." Molly was delighted, though not greatly as- tonished, when Isa told her the next morn- ing. " How nice that we shall be near neighbors," she exclaimed. " I wish you would just decide to make it a double wedding." "Thank you," laughed Isa; "do you forget that it is now just one week from your appoint- ed day? or do you think my trousseau could be gotten up in a week, though it takes three for yours?" "I really didn't stop to think," Molly ac- knowledged with a happy laugh; " but, Isa, you are so beautiful that you need no finery to add 192 ELSIE'S WIDOWHOOD. to your attractions, while my plainness requires a good deal." "Molly," Isa said, standing before her and gazing fixedly and admiringly into the glad, blooming face, "I think you have neglected your mirror of late or you wouldn't talk so." A great surprise came to Molly on the morn- ing of her wedding day. Her cousin Elsie gave her ten thousand dollars, and Mr. Embury set- tled fifty thousand upon her, beside presenting her with the jewels he had purchased a set of diamonds and pearls. Also she received many handsome presents from uncle, aunt, brother and cousins, and from Mr. Embury's children. He had sent for his two boys, fine manly fellows of ten and twelve, to be present at the marriage, which was to take place in the evening, and had brought them that morning for a short call upon his chosen bride. She and they seemed mutually pleased, and Molly, who had been somewhat apprehensive lest they should dislike the match, felt as if the last stone were removed from her path. She gratified Mr. Embury greatly by a re- quest that the baby girls and all the servants from Magnolia Hall might be present, and that he would let Louis, his eldest son. stand up with them as third groomsman, Dick and Harold Travilla being first and second. ELSIE'S WIDOWHOOD. 193 Isa, the younger Elsie and Violet were the bridesmaids, all wearing white for the occasion. It was a very quiet wedding indeed, no one at all present but the members of the two families, servants included these last grouping them- selves about the open door into the hall. Molly sat in her chair looking very sweet and pretty in white silk, point lace, and abundance of orange blossoms freshly gathered from the trees on the lawn. The bridesmaids looked very lovely also; groom and groomsmen handsome and happy. Mr. Keith made the ceremony short but sol- emn and impressive. The usual greetings and congratulations followed ; Elsie's to the bride a whispered hope, accompanied with tears and smiles, that every year might find herself and husband nearer and dearer to each other. An elegant banquet succeeded, and shortly after the happy bridegroom bore his new-made wife away to her future home. CHAPTER XVH. " But happy they ! the happiest of their kind! Whom gentler stars unite, and in one fate Their hearts, their fortunes, and their beings blend . . , . . for naught but love Can answer love, and render bliss secure." Thomson's Seasons. As no invitations to the wedding were to be sent to relatives at a distance, it was thought quite as well not to inform them of Molly's en- gagement until after the marriage had taken place; beside, as the preparations were so hur- ried, no one had much time for correspondence. Isadore Conly did not once during the three weeks write to Eoselands, excusing herself on the double plea that her last letter remained un- answered, and that she was particularly busy about the trousseau. She found little time to spare from that which was not taken up in walking or riding with Cyril. He proposed writing to her mother immedi- ately after declaring his love; but she begged him to delay a little till her grandfather and un- cle should have time to consider how to bring their influence to bear upon Mrs. Conly in the way most likely to win her approval of his suit. The day after the wedding saw a number of ELSIE'S WIDOWHOOD. 195 letters directed to Roselands, dropped into the Viamede mail-bag, and a few days later they reached their destination. The family consisting of Mrs. Conly, Cal- houn, Arthur, Virginia, Walter (who was at home for a few days on a furlough, being now a lieutenant in the U. S. Army), and several younger ones were at breakfast when Pomp came in with the mail-bag. Calhoun opened it and distributed the con- tents. " Letters from Viamede at last," he remarked; "three for you, mother, from grandpa, uncle and somebody else ; one for Walter (Diok's handwriting ! I didn't know he was there) and one for Virginia." "From Isa," Virginia said as she glanced at the superscription ; then tearing open the en- velope, and glancing down the first page, " Molly is married ! to a rich planter, too 1 Will won- ders never cease !" A simultaneous exclamation of surprise from all present. "Nonsense, Isa's hoaxing you," said Walter, stirring his coffee. ' * Here, let me see the letter." "No. Open your own." " That's not in Isa's line," remarked Arthur, " but really it is very astonishing news. What does Dick say, Wai ? He went down there to attend the wedding, I presume ?" 196 ELSIE'S WIDOWHOOD. " Xo ; didn't know a word about it till he got there," Walter said, giving a hasry perusal to the not very lengthy epistle; " went to settle; good opening for a doctor ; splendid country, everything lovely, likes brother-in-law immense- ly, is overjoyed at Molly's good luck, says she's as happy as a queen." " Which may mean much or little," remarked Conly. His mother cleared her throat emphatically, and all eyes turned to her. She held an open letter in her hand, and her face looked flushed and angry. " Isa, too, it seems, has lost her heart," she said in a bitter, sarcastic tone ; " and with her usual good sense, has bestowed it upon a poor clergyman. Doubtless* he has heard of her Aunt Delaford's intentions Elsie perhaps has given him the hint, he being a relative of hers and thinks he is securing a fortune. But if Isa throws herself away in such fashion, Sister Delaford may change her mind." Calhoun and Arthur both repelled with warmth the insinuation against Elsie ; the latter adding that he thought Isa's personal charms we^e quite sufficient of themselves to captivate a man who was not in pursuit of wealth. "And Isa," remarked Calhoun, "is so un- worldly that wealth would be a matter of small consideration to her where her heart was con- cerned." ELSIE'S WIDOWHOOD. 197 "A fact that should make her friends the more careful how they encourage her in taking a poor man," said the mother ; " but my father and brother are both strongly in favor of this adventurer's suit." " Adventurer, mother ! I thought you said he was a clergyman !" " Well, Calhoun, I don't see any contradiction there. But his name is Keith, and that ex- plains it all, for my father was always very partial to those relatives of his first wife. Horace, too, of course." " But as Isa is a good deal more nearly re- lated to them, they are very fond of her, and, men not easily deceived or taken in, I think we may safely trust to their judgment. You won't oppose what they so higiily approve, mother ?" "I don't know ; must take time to think it over. Do you and Arthur come with me to the library," she said, rising with the letter in her hand. "I see you have both finished your breakfast," They rose instantly, and followed her from, the room, Walter looking after them and mutter- ing discontentedly, " I think mother might take me into her counsels, too." j "You are too young and foolish," said Virginia. " The first objection doesn't lie against you, though the second may," he retorted. " You'd 198 ELSIE'S WIDOWHOOD. better look to your laurels. Isa and Molly are both well ahead of you." " What of that ?" she said, reddening with vexation. "Isa's two years older than I, and taking a poor minister whom. I wouldn't look at." " Sour grapes," suggested her brother, teas- ingly. " And Molly's not a year older than you, and has married rich." " A second-hand husband !" sneered Virginia; at which Walter laughed uproariously. " Virgie, Virgie, those grapes are terribly sour !" he said. " But do let us hear what Isa has to say about it." "I haven't finished the letter; but there, take it ; what do I care about her fine dresses and presents, and the splendors of Magnolia Hall?" "Well," he cried presently, "Cousin Elsie did the thing handsomely ! and he's a splendid fellow, if he is second-hand. No wonder Dick's pleased. I only wish my sisters might all do as well." In the library Calhoun was saying, as he laid down his uncle's letter, which he had just read aloud, " Cousin Elsie is certainly the most generous of women ! Mother, you could not have read this when you uttered that insinu- ation against her a few moments since ?" Mrs. Conly colored violently under her son's searching gaze. ELSIE'S WIVOWHOOD. 199 "Twenty-five thousand is a mere trifle to her," she said, bridling, "and you perceive she promises Isa that dower in the event of her marrying that poor relation of her own." "It is extremely generous, nevertheless !" ex- claimed both her sons in a breath. " And I do not think it by any means a bad match for Isa," Arthur went on " a good man, of fine talent, receiving a very comfort- able salary, a lovely home rent free, very little -expense except for clothing, seeing they are as uncle says to have all the fruit, vegetables, nearly their whole living, in fact, from the Viamede fields and orchards ; use of carriages and horses too, whenever they like." " No, it isn't so bad," their mother acknowl- edged, "and if she gets her Aunt Delaford's money, she will really be very far from poor. But I dislike the thought of having her, with her beauty and talents, buried, as one may say, in that out-of-the-way corner of the world." " But she chooses for herself, and ought to be the best judge of what is for her own happiness," Calhoun said. " So you will consent, mother?" " Oh yes, yes, of course ! But I'll take no blame from your Aunt Delaford ; nor from Isa either, if ever she sees cause to repent." So a letter was sent that made glad the hearts of the lovers, spite of some ungraciousness of tone. 200 ELSIE'S WIDOWHOOD. Isa's letter, giving, as it did, a minute de- scription of the trousseau, the wedding, Magno- lia Hall, Mr. Embury and his children, and telling of the generous settlements upon the bride made by him and her cousin Elsie, was read and re-read by Mrs. Conly and Virginia with great interest, which was yet not altogether pleasurable. They were glad that Molly had now a good home of her own, and particularly that her mother was to share it a home so far away from Eoselands that Enna was not likely to trouble them any more, for her feebleness of intellect made her something of a mortification to them of late years yet the good fortune of the poor crippled niece and cousin was too great, too strongly in contrast with their own rather strait- ened circumstances, not to arouse some feelings of envy and jealousy in persons of their haughty and overbearing disposition. . "Dear me, I wonder why some people have all the good fortune and others none !" exclaimed Virginia angrily. " I should say fifty thousand, was quite enough fo^ Molly especially in addi> tion to the rich husband and loads of handsome presents and that ten thousand would have been much better bestowed upon you or me, mamma." " You've only to get married, sis, and probably she'll do the same handsome thing by you," re- ELSIE'S WIDOWHOOD. 201 marked Walter, who happened to be within hearing. "Not she! I never had the good fortune to be one of her favorites." " Well, Isa can't say that, for she's certainly doing the handsome thing by her." "What?" " So mother hasn't told you? She's promised that the day Isa marries her cousin, Cyril Keith, she'll hand over twenty-five thousand dollars to them." " That was to get mamma's consent. Mamma, I wouldn't be bought if I were you," Virginia said scornfully. "You wouldn't?" laughed Walter. "I tell you you'd sell yourself to-day to any man worth half a million, or even something less." " Walter, you are perfectly insulting," cried Virginia, her eyes flashing and her cheek flush- ing hotly. " I wish your furlough ended to- day." " Thank you, my very affectionate sister," he said, bowing low as he stood before her. " Why don't you wish I'd get shot in the next fight with the Indians? Well, I'll tell you what it is," he went on presently, "if I were one of Cousin Elsie's children Ed, for instance I'd enter a pretty strong protest against these wholesale acts of benevolence toward poor relations." "She can afford it," said his mother loftily. 302 ELSIE' 8 WIDOWHOOD. "and I must say I should have a much higher appreciation of her generosity if she had given Isa the money without any conditions attached." "But Isa wouldn't, or I greatly mistake." "Do you mean to say you think there has been a conspiracy between them?" demanded his mother, growing very red and angry. " No, no, mother, nothing of the kind! but Cousin Elsie is a woman of keen observation, delicate tact and great discernment; and she had Isa's happiness much at heart." " Eeally," she sneered, " I have but just made the delightful discovery that I have a Solomon among my sons!" " I think it was mean not to invite us to the wedding," said Virginia. " No; that was right enough," corrected her mother; " being in deep mourning for her hus- band, she could not, of course, give Molly any- thing but the quietest sort of wedding." " Well, Isa will come home to be married?" " Of course; and I shall insist upon time to have everything done properly and without any one being hurried to death." Immediately upon the reception of Mrs. Conly's letter giving consent to the match be- tween her daughter and Cyril Keith, the work of adding to, repairing and improving the cot- tage destined to be the future home of the young couple was begun. ELSIE'S WIDOWHOOD. 203 It was a matter of great interest, not to Cyril and Isa alone, but to the whole family of Dins- mores and Tra villas; and their departure from Viamede was delayed some weeks that Elsie and frer father and grandfather might oversee and direct the workmen. It was going to be a really commodious and beautiful residence when completed. Elsie de- termined that it should be prettily furnished, too, and found great pleasure in planning for the comfort and enjoyment of these cousins. And Molly's happiness was a constant delight to her. There was daily intercourse between Viamede and Magnolia Hall, Mr. Embury driv- ing Molly over almost every day to see her rela- tives, and Dick bringing his mother, usually on. horseback. Dick was making his home with his sister for the present, at Mr. Embury's urgent request, and was showing himself a good and affectionate son to Enna. The visits were returned, too, even Elsie go- ing over frequently for a short call, because she saw that Molly very keenly enjoyed being in a position to extend hospitality to all her friends, and especially herself, as one to whom she had long been indebted for a happy home. " Oh, cousin," Molly said to her one day when they were alone together in her beautiful boudoir, " I am so happy! my husband is so 204 ELSIE'S WIDOWHOOD. kind, so affectionate! I cannot understand how it is that he is BO fond and even proud of me helpless cripple that I am. But I have learned , to be thankful even for that," she added, tears springing to her eyes, "because he says it was that that first drew his attention to me; and, strangely enough, his pity soon turned to admi- ration and love. Oh he has such a big, gener- ous heart!" " He has indeed!" Elsie said. " But, Molly dear, you underrate yourself. I do not wonder that he admires and is proud of your brave, cheerful courage under your hard trial, and of your talents and the name you are making for yourself as both a translator and original writer; I hope you will not give up your work entirely now that there is no pecuniary necessity for it, for I think it is bringing a blessing to yourself and to others." " No, oh no; I shall not give it up while I can believe it is doing something for the Master's cause. Louis does not wish me to while I enjoy it, and I find he is just the critic I need to help me to improve. I had a letter from Virgie yesterday," she went on with a happy laugh, " congratulating me on being no longer com- pelled to work, yet pitying me because I am a stepmother." " That does not trouble you?" Elsie said, in quiringly. ELSIE'S WIDOWHOOD. 205 "Oh no! The hoys, Louis and Fred, are so much like their father seeming to love me all the better for my helplessness (by the way, Louis, my husband, says it is a positive delight to him to take me in his arms and lift me about) and the baby girls are as lovely and dear as they can be. I wouldn't for anything part with one of the whole four." "Dear child!" Elsie said, embracing her with full heart and eyes, " I am so glad, so happy for you that it is so! And how your mother and brother seem to enjoy your good fortunes!" " Yes; Dick is such a dear fellow ! and mother really it is just a pleasure to see how she de- lights in it all. And I think she couldn't be fonder of the children if she were their own grandmother." " How glad, how thankful I am that we came to Viamede this winter," Elsie said, after a mo- ment's silent musing; " grandpa has so entirely recovered his health in consequence, a favorable opening has been found for Dick, and four other people are made happy in mutual love who might, perhaps, never have met otherwise all this, beside dear Mrs. Carrington having the melancholy pleasure of nursing her poor nephew through his last illness. How true is the prom- ise, ' In all thy ways acknowledge him, and he shall direct thy paths.'" " You take a very unselfish delight in other 206 ESIE'S WIDOWHOOD. people's happiness, cousin," Molly remarked. " And Isa is very happy." " Yes, and Cyril too," Elsie answered with a smile. "I sometimes think my Elsie half en- vies them thinking of Lester so far away. But her turn will come too, I trust, poor, dear child I" May was well advanced, the weather already very warm in the Teche country when at last our friends set out upon their return to their more northern homes. Everything there was looking very lovely on their arrival. Friends, kindred and servants rejoiced over their return, all in good health. Elsie and her children took up again the old, quiet life at Ion, missing Molly not a little, and feeling afresh, for a time, the absence of one far nearer and dearer. Mr. and Mrs. Dinsmore spent some weeks with their other children, then again made their home at Ion, at Elsie's urgent solicitation. In the loneliness of her widowhood she knew not how to do without her father. In order to secure her cousin Elsie's presence at her wedding, Isa insisted upon a very quiet one, only relatives and very intimate friends to be invited to witness the ceremony; but to please her mother and Virginia, there was afterward a brilliant reception. The marriage took place the last of June, and the next two months were spent principally among Cyril's relatives at the North, CHAPTER XVIII. ** TLe sea : the sea ' the open sea I TLe blue, the fresh, the ever free 1" Proctor. THE summer vacation brought Edward Tra- villa home just in time for his cousin Isa's wed- ding. He had grown so manly and so like his father in appearance that at sight of him his mother was much overcome. His first, his warmest, tenderest greeting was for her. He held her to his heart, his own too full for speech, while she wept upon his shoul- der. But only for a moment; lifting her head, she gazed long and searchingly into his face, then, with a sigh of relief, " Thank God," she whis- pered, " that I can believe my boy has come back to me as pure and innocent as he went !" " I hope so, mother; your love, your teachings and my father's have been my safeguard in many an hour of temptation," he answered with emo- tion. " Did you not seek help from above, my son?" she asked gently. " Yes, mother; you had taught me to do so, and I knew that you, too, were daily seeking it for me." 208 ELSIE'S WIDOWHOOD. "Yes, my dear boy; I think there was scarce a waking hour in which I did not ask a blessing on my absent son." The mother dried her tears; grandparents, brothers and sisters drew near and embraced the lad, servants shook him by the hand, and Ion was filled with rejoicing as never before since the removal of its master and head. Tongues ran nimbly as they sat about the tea- table and on the veranda afterward; so much had happened to the young collegian, so many changes had taken place in the family connec- tion since he went away, that there was a great deal to tell and to hear on both sides. The voices were blithe, and there was many a silvery peal of laughter mingled with the pleas- ant, cheery talk. Isa's and Molly's matches were discussed in a most kindly way, for Edward was quite curious to hear all about them and the preparations for the approaching wedding. Cyril had arrived earlier in the day, was tak- ing tea at Koselands, but would pass the night at Ion, which Edward was glad to hear, as he wished to make his acquaintance. A summer at the sea-shore had been decided upon some weeks ago, and Edward, to his great gratification, had been empowered to select a cottage for the family to occupy during the sea- son, his Aunt Adelaide and her husband assist- ing him with their advice. ELSIE'S WIDOWHOOD. 209 He announced with much satisfaction that he had secured one that he thought would accom- modate them well several guests in addition, if mamma cared to invite any of her friends and please every one. "It is large, convenient, well even hand- somely furnished and but a few yards from the shore," he said. " The country is pretty about there, too pleasant walks and drives through green lanes, fields and woods." "But where is it, Edward?" asked Violet. "Not far from Long Branch; and there are some half-dozen other sea-side places within easy driving distance." There were exclamations of delight and impa- tience to be there from the younger ones, while the mother covered up with a smile and a few words of commendation to Edward the pain in her heart at the thought that her best beloved would not be with his wife and children beside the sea this summer, as in former years. Her father and Eose were thinking of that, too, with deep sympathy for her. In a moment the same thought presented it- self to Edward and Violet, and they drew closer to their mother with loving, caressing looks and words. But memories of Lester, and their walks and talks together when last she was at the sea-shore, were filling the mind of the younger Elsie with emotions, half of pleasure, 210 ELSIE'S WIDOWHOOD. half of pain. When should they meet again? Then the sudden silence that had fallen upon the group about her mother, and a glance at that loved mother's face, reminded her also of the father who would return no more, and whose companionship had been so dear a delight to her and to them all. It was Kosie who broke the silence at length " Mamma, can we not go pretty soon ?" "Yes, daughter, in about a week." The journey was made without accident, th* cottage and its vicinity found to be all that Ed- ward had represented. They had brought some of their own servants with them, and had nothing to do with hotel cv boarding-house life. Elsie had always loved the quiet and seclusion of home, and clung to it now, more than ever ; yet for her children's sake she would not shut out society entirely ; both Ed- ward and his sisters were free to invite theit young friends to partake of the hospitalities o ( their mother's house, but without noise or rev- elry, for which indeed, they themselves had no heart. For a while the society of his mother and sis ters was quite sufficient for Edward and his fof them they were all so strongly attached to eacl other and he had been so long away from honu? that it was very delightful to be together once more. ELSIE'S WIDOWHOOD. 2H Mr. and Mrs. Dinsmore were at that time visit- ing relatives in Philadelphia and its vicinity, and his grandfather's absence gave Edward the long coveted opportunity to try how nearly he could fill his father's place as his mother's earthly prop. It was a dear delight to have her lean upon his arm, rely upon his strength, consult him about business or family matters. He was very proud and fond of his lovely sifr- ters ; prouder and fonder still of his sweet and beautiful mother. He quite longed to show her to all his college friends, yet would not for the world have her grief intruded upon by them, with their thoughtless gayety. During these weeks that they were entirely alone she gave herself up wholly to her children,- seeking to secure to them the greatest possible amount of innocent enjoyment. No tasks were set, there was no attempt at regular employ- ment, and almost the whole day was spent in the open air ; together they sported in the surf, strolled on the beach, or sat in the sand revelling in the delicious sea breeze and the sight of the ever restless, ever changing, beautiful ocean, with its rolling, tumbling, dashing waves. They were there early in the morning, sometimes in season to watch the sun rise out of the water; and often again when the silvery moonlight lent its witchery to the scene. But there came a day when the rain poured 212 ELSIE'S WIDOWHOOD. down so continuously and heavily that they were glad to take refuge from it in the house. They gathered in a room overlooking the sea, the ladies with their fancy work, Eosie with her doll, while Harold and Herbert helped little Walter to build block houses, and Edward rea<* aloud a story selected by the mother, as enter- taining and at the same time pure and whole- some. She was careful in choosing their mental food; she would no sooner have suffered her children's minds to be poisoned than their bodies. As Edward closed the book upon the comple- tion of the story, "Mamma, "said the younger Elsie, " do you quite approve of all the teachings the author has given there? or perhaps I should rather say the sentiments she has expressed." " Not quite, but what is it you do not ap- prove ?" the mother answered with an affec- tionate and pleased look at the earnest face of the questioner. "lam glad to see that you are not ready to be carried about with every wind of doctrine." " It is her comment upon her heroine's effort to escape from her trouble by asking help from God. She speaks as if, had the girl been older and wiser, she would have known that God had the welfare and happiness of other people to consult as well as hers, and couldn't be expected to sacrifice them for her sake." ELSIE'S WIDOWHOOD. 213 "Well, daughter?" "It seems to me to show a very low estimate of God's power and wisdom. Since he is infinite in both, can he not so order events as to secure the best good to all his creatures?" " Yes, my child, I am sure he can, and we need never fear that he is not able and willing to help his people in every time of trouble. * The name of the Lord is as trong tower: the righteous runneth into it, and is safe.' "The righteous cry, and the Lord heareth, and delivereth them out of all their troubles.' He does not always answer just as we desire, it is true, but often in a better way. for we, in our folly and short-sightedness, sometimes ask what would prove in the end a curse instead of a blessing." "Mamma, how happy we should be if we had perfect faith and trust," said Violet. " Yes ; if we fully believed the inspired assur- ance, We know that all things work together for good to them that love God,' we should not fret or grieve over losses, crosses or disappoint- ments. Strive after such faith, my children, and pray constantly for it, for it is the gift of God." There was a little pause, broken only by Wal- ter's prattle, the plash of the rain and the mur- mur of the sea. Edward seemed in deep thought. Taking a low seat at his mother's knee, "Mamma," he 214 ELSIE'S WIDOWHOOD. said, " I want to have a talk with you, and per* haps this is as good a time as any." "Well, my dear boy, what is it ?" " Do you think, mamma, that I ought to go into the ministry ?" "My son," she said, looking at him in some surprise, "that is not a question to be decided in a moment, or without asking God's guidance." "You would be willing, mother ?" " More than willing glad and thankful if I saw reason to believe that you were called of God to that work. To be truly an embassador of Christ is, in my esteem, to stand higher than any of earth's potentates, yet if your talents do not lie in that direction I would not have you there. It is every man's duty to serve God to the utmost of his ability, but all are not called to the min- istry; some can do far better service in other walks of life, and I should prefer to have a eon of mine a good carpenter, mason or shoemaker, rather than a poor preacher." " You do not mean poor in purse, mamma ?" queried Harold, joining the little group. "No; a poor sermonizer one lacking the requisite talents, diligence or piety to proclaim God's truth with faithfulness and power." " How can one tell to what work he is called, mamma ?" Edward asked, with an anxious, per- plexed look. " By watching the leadings of God's proyi- ELSIE'S WIDOWHOOD. 315 dence and by earnest prayer for his direction. Al- so I think if a lad has a decided bias for any one profession or employment it is a pretty sure in- dication that that is what he is called to; for we can almost always do best what we most enjoy doing." " Then I think I should study medicine," said Harold, "for I should very greatly prefer that to anything else. And don't you think, mamma, that a doctor may do really as much good as a minister?" "Quite as much if he be a devoted, earnest Christian, ready to do good as he has opportu- nity: therefore I entirely approve your choice." " Thank you, mamma. So I consider it quite settled," Harold returned with a look of great satisfaction. "Now, Ed and Herbie, what will you be?" "As Herbert never likes to be separated from you, I presume he too will choose medicine," the mother remarked, with a smiling glance at her third son, as he too came and stood at her side. "I don't know, mamma; it seems to me doc- tors have a dreadfully hard life." " Ah! I fancy a life of elegant leisure would suit you best, my laddie," laughed his eldest brother. But the mother's look was grave and a little Anxious. 216 ELSIE'S WIDOWHOOD. Herbert saw it. " Don't be troubled about me, mamma dear," he said, putting his arms round her neck and gazing lovingly into her eyes. "I do mean to fight against my natural laziness. But do you think I ought to choose so very hard a life as Harold means to?" "Not if you have talent for something useful which would better suit your inclinations. Can you think of any such thing?" " Couldn't I be a lawyer?" " You could never rise to eminence in that profession without a great deal of hard work." "An author then?" "The same answer will fit again, "his mother returned with a slight smile. " Has not your Cousin Molly worked very hard for a number of years?" Herbert drew a long, deep sigh, then bright- ening, "I might be a publisher," he said. "I don't suppose they work very hard, and they can have all the new books to read." " Oh, Herbie," said Violet, " think of the great number of letters they must have to write, and manuscripts to read, beside many other things." " No, my boy, you cannot do or be anything worth while without work, and a good deal of it," said his mother. " So I hope you will make it your earnest, constant prayer that you may have grace to overcome your besetting sin of in- ELSIE'S WIDOWHOOD. 217 dolence, and to ( be not slothful in business ; fervent in spirit; serving the Lord. The Bible bids us, ' Whatsoever thy hand findeth to do, do it with thy might. Whatsoever ye do, do it heartily, as to the Lord, and not unto men."' "Edward, you have not told us yet what you wish to be," said his sister Elsie. " My inclination," he answered in grave, ear- nest tones, " is to take my father's place in every way possible, first in the care of my darling, precious mother," taking her hand and lifting it to his lips, "after that in cultivating the Ion plantation and making myself a good, upright, useful church-member and citizen." "A worthy ambition, my boy," the mother said with emotion; " my strong desire is that you may follow as closely as possible in the foot- steps of your honored father. I never knew a better man, in the pulpit or out of it. His was a truly Christian manhood, and, like his Master, he went about doing good." "Then, mother, with your approval my choice is made; and with your permission I shall spend some time in an agricultural college, after fin- ishing the course where I am." "You shall do as you wish; you shall have every advantage I can give you. My other boys also, if they will improve them." " Your girls, too, mamma?" asked Rosie. 218 ELSIE'S WIDOWHOOD. " Yes, indeed," mamma answered, bestowing a smile and a kiss upon the young questioner. At that moment the tea-bell summoned them to their evening meal. Edward took his father's seat at the table, his father's place in asking a blessing upon the food. As they left the. table they perceived that the rain had ceased; the clouds had broken away from the setting sun, and its red light streamed over the dark waters like a pathway of fire. They were all gathered on the porch, watch- ing, as usual, the changing beauty of the sea and the clouds, when a young man, in the un- dress uniform of a lieutenant in the army, open- ed their gate, and came with a brisk, manly step up the walk leading to the house. As he drew near, he lifted his military cap, bowed low to the ladies, then, stepping upon the porch, handed a card to Mrs. Travilla. "Donald Keith," she read aloud, and holding out her hand with a sweet, welcoming smile, "How do you do, cousin?" she said; "I am very glad to see you. But to which branch do you belong?" "lam a younger brother of the Eeverend Cyril Keith, lately married to a Miss Conly," the young officer answered, as he took the offer- ed hand. " He wrote me of your great kind- ness to him, and when I learned, a few hours since, who were the occupants of this cottage, I ELSIE'S WIDOWHOOD. 219 felt that I must come and thank you. I hope I do not intrude, cousin?" " No, indeed; we are always ready to welcome relatives. Now let me introduce these other cousins my boys and girls." The young man spent the whole evening in the company of these new-found relatives, and went away highly delighted with them all. He had several weeks' furlough, was staying at a hotel near by, and promised himself great enjoyment in the society of the dwellers in the cottage. And they were pleased with hiir. " He seems a very nice, clever fellow, moth- er," Edward remarked. "Yes," she said, "he has very agreeable manners and talks well; and knowing that he comes of a godly race, I hope we shall find him in all respects a suitable companion for you and your sisters. I am glad of his coming for your sakes, for I fear you may have felt the want of young society." "Oh, no, mamma," they all protested, "we could not have enjoyed ourselves better. It has been so nice to have you quite to ourselves. * CHAPTER XIX. " A mother is a mother still, The holiest thing alive," Coleridge. THE next morning's mail brought a letter from Mr. Dinsmore, announcing his speedy coming with his wife, father, Mr. and Mrs. Edward Allison, and several of their children. " There's an end to our good times !" sighed Violet. " Shall you be so Yery sorry to see your grandpa ?" her mother asked with a slight Bmile, knowing that her father was dearly loved by all her children, and by none more than by Violet herself. " Oh no, mamma; nor grandma, nor any of them," was the quick reply ; " only it was so nice to have you so entirely to ourselves." " Haven't you enjoyed it too, mamma ?" asked several voices, while every face turned eagerly and inquiringly to hers. ( "'Yes, indeed, my darlings," she said; " and yet so dearly do I love my father that my heart bounds at the very thought that he will ba with me again in a few hours," "Then, mamma, we are all glad for you," Elsie said : Violet adding, "and for ourselves, ELSIE'S WIDOWHOOD. 221 too ; for it is nice to have grandpa and grandma with us ; and Aunt Adelaide also : she is always so kind." ** Very different from Aunt Louise," remark ed Edward. ' Who would ever think they were sisters ! Isa and Virginia are quite as unlike, too, though they are sisters. I hope Aunt Louise and her old-maid daughter won't visit us this summer !" " Edward I" his mother said in a tone of re- proof. " Excuse me, mother," he said; " but if I dis- like them, it is because they have always treated you so badly." " They have never done me any injury, my son," she answered, with gentle gravity, ' and I would not have you feel unkindly toward them; much less am I willing to hear you speak of them as you did just now. Virginia is not an old maid, and if she were I should be sorry to have you apply that epithet to her." "She is several years older than I am, mother," he said, blushing. "About three ; and you are only a boy." Edward felt this as the most cutting rebuke his gentle mother had ever administered to him, for he had begun to think of himself as a man, old enough and strong enough to be his mother's stay and support, and a guide to his younger brothers and sisters. g23 ELSIE' 3 WIDOWHOOD, But sensible that he had deserved the reproof, he bore it in silence ; yet could not rest until, seizing an opportunity to speak to her without being overheard by others, "Dear mamma," he whispered, looking beseechingly into her eyes, "will you not forgive my thoughtless, un- charitable speech of this morning ?" " Certainly, my dear boy," she answered with one of her sweetest smiles, " and I trust you will try to cultivate more kindly feelings toward your grandpa's sister and niece, for his sake, and because it is a Christian duty." Mr. Dinsniore and his party arrived that after- noon, and the next day were followed by Mrs. Conly and Virginia. " We thought we would give you a surprise/ was the greeting of the former; " the heat and threats of yellow fever drove us North ^ scat- tered the younger children pbout among other relatives, leaving several at your house, Adelaide, then came on here with Virgie, knowing that Elsie would of course have room enough for us two." " "We will find room for you, Aunt Louise," Elsie said with pleasant cordiality, and trying hard to feel rejoiced at their coming. A very difficult task, as they never were at the slightest pains to make themselves agreeable, and the house was already comfortably filled. Edward waited only to shake hands hastily ELSIE'S WIDOWHOOD. 223 with his aunt and cousin, then slipped away for a solitary stroll on the beach while he should fight down his feelings of disgust and irritation at this unwelcome and unwarrantable invasion of his mother's dwelling. He had asked that morning if he might invite his college chum, Charlie Perrine, to spend a week or two with him, and had received a prompt and kind permission to do so. It seem- ed hard enough to have to entertain, instead, these relatives, between whom and himself there had always been a cordial dislike ; for from early childhood he had perceived and strongly resented the envy, jealousy and ill-will indulged in by them toward his mother. He paced hurriedly to and fro for some min- utes, striving, with but indifferent success, to recover his equanimity, then stood still, gazing out to sea, half inclined to wish himself on board an outward-bound vessel in the offing. Presently a hand took quiet possession of his arm, and turning his head he found his mother standing by his side. " I am grieved to see my boy's face so cloud- ed," she said in her sweet and gentle tones. " Then, mother, it shall not be so any longer," he answered, resolutely forcing a smile. "I have been really trying to feel good-natured, but it is not easy under the circumstances. Not to me, I mean. I wish I had inherited your sweet disposition." 224 ELSIE'S WIDOWHOOD. "Ah, you can judge only from outside ap- pearances," she said with a sigh and a smile; " no one knows what a battle his neighbor may be fighting in his own heart, while outwardly calm and serene. " I know you are disappoint- ed because you fear you must give up inviting your friend for the present, but that will not be necessary, my dear boy. We can still manage to make room for him by a little crowding which will hurt no one. My room is so large that I can easily take Walter and all your sisters in with me, and if necessary we will pitch a tent for the servants." "Or for Charlie and me, mother," he ex- claimed in delight; "we should not mind it in the least; indeed it would be good fun to live so for a while." At this moment they were joined by Elsie and Violet, both full of sympathy for Edward, and anxious to consult mamma as to the possibility of still making room for the comfortable ac- commodation of his friend. They listened with delight to her proposed arrangement: it would be a great pleasure to them to share her room, if it would not incon- venience her, and she assured them it would not. "I was afraid," said Elsie, " that Aunt Ade- laide might hurry away to make room for the others, but now I hope she will not, for we all enjoy having her with us." ELSIE'S WIDOWHOOD. 225 "No," Mrs. Travilla said, "we will keep her as long as we can. Ah, here come my father and grandfather. I think we shall astonish them with the news of the arrival." " Cousin Donald is with them too," remarked Elsie. "Mamma, I think Virginia will be rather pleased to see so fine looking a gentleman haunting the house." ' ' Her sister's brother-in -law, " said Vi. " Per- haps she will claim him as more nearly related to her than to us." The young man had found favor with both Mr. Dinsmores, and the three were just return- ing from a pretty long tramp together which had caused them to miss seeing the arrival of Mrs. and Miss Conly. The news seemed to give more surprise than pleasure. " It was very thoughtless in Louise," the old gentleman said with some vexation, "but it is just like her. I think we must find Tooms for them at one of the hotels, Elsie ; for I don't see how your house is to accommodate us all." " I do, grandpa," was her smiling' rejoinder, " so make yourself perfectly easy on that score." " I hope our excursion is not to be interfered with, cousin ?" Donald said inquiringly : for arrangements had been made for a long drive that afternoon, taking in several of the neigh- boring sea-side resorts, and as his three lady 226 ELSIE'S WIDOWHOOD. cousins had promised to be of the party, he was loath to give it up. "No," she said, "Aunt Adelaide and Aunt Louise will doubtless be well pleased to be left alone together for a few hours, after a separa tion of several years." " Besides, both my aunt and cousin will need a long nap to refresh them after the fatigue of their journey," remarked Edward. The young people exchanged congratulatory glances. They were all eager for the drive. It was just the day for it, they had all decided the roads in excellent condition after the late rain, a delicious sea-breeze blowing, and light fleecy clouds tempering the heat of the July sun. They set off directly after an early dinner all the Dinsmores and Travillas, Mr. Allison and his children and Mr. Keith in two covered carriages, and well provided with waterproofs for protection against a possible shower. They were a pleasant, congenial party, the older people cheerful and companionable, the children full of life and spirits. They had visited Seagirt, Spring Lake and Asbury Park, and were passing through Ocean Beach, when Edward, catching sight of a young couple sauntering leisurely along on the side- walk:, uttered an exclamation, " Why, there's Charlie Perrine !" then calling to the driver to stop, he sprang out and hurried toward them. ELSIE'S WIDOWHOOD. 227 " His college chum and how glad they are to meet," Violet said as the two were seen shaking hands in the most cordial manner. Then Perrine introduced Edward to his com- panion, and the lad's sisters noticed that his face lighted up with pleased surprise as he grasped her hand. ' < Why, I know her !" cried Donald. " Excuse me one moment, ladies;" and he too sprang out and hastened to join the little group on the side- walk. He and the lady met like very intimate friends, greeting each other as " Donald " and " Mary:" then he led her to the side of the carriage and introduced her. " My cousin Mary Keith, Uncle Donald's daughter ; our cousins, Misi Elsie and Miss Violet Travilla." The girls shook hands and exchanged glances of mutual interest and admiration. Mary had a very bright, pleasant face, dark eyes and hair, plenty of color, lady-like manners, and a stylish figure well set off by inexpensive but tasteful attire. The other carriage, containing the older peo- ple, had now come up and halted beside the first. There were more introductions, then Mary was persuaded to take Edward's place in the carriage with her young cousins, and drive with them to the Colorado House, where she waa 228 ELSIE'S WIDOWHOOD. staying, while he and his friend followed on foot. Here the whole party alighted, seated them- selves on the porch and chatted together for a half hour. "How long do you stay here, Cousin Mary?" Mrs. Travilla asked. " Another week, Cousin Elsie ; I have en- gaged my room for that length of time: and I wish you would let one of your girls stay with me, or both if they will, though I'm afraid that would crowd them. I should be so glad if yon would. I want to become acquainted with them : and besides I have just lost my room- mate, and don't like to be left alone." After a little consultation between the elders of the party, it was decided that Violet should accept the invitation, her mother promising to send her a trunk in the morning, and Mary agreeing to return the visit later in the season, when her cousin's cottage would have parted with some of its present occupants. Edward, too, would remain and room with Charlie Perrine, on the same floor with the girls, BO that Violet would feel that she had a pro- tector. " I hope it will be a pleasant change for you, dear ohild," the mother whispered in parting from Violet, "and if you grow tired of it, you know you can come home at any time. And Ed- ELSIE'S WIDOWHOOD. 229 ward," she added, turning to him, " I trust your sister to your care, particularly in bathing : don't let her go in without you, and don't either of you venture far out or into any dangerous spot." " We will be very careful, mamma," they both replied, "so do not feel in the least uneasy. 5 ' " I shall owe you a grudge for this." Donald was saying in a rueful aside to Mary. " Why, you needn't," she returned; "you can come too, if you wish, unless you object to my society." " That wouldn't mend matters," he answered, with a glance at the younger Elsie. " Nonsense ! I've found out already that she's engaged. Didn't you know it ?" " Not I. Well, it takes a woman to find out the secrets of her sex !" "Then you own that a woman can keep a secret ?" was her laughing rejoinder. " But do tell me," in a still lower tone, "has cousin lost her husband lately ?" " Within a year, and they were devotedly at- tached." " Oh poor thing! But isn't she sweet ?" " Yes, indeed ! it didn't take even me long to find that out." The carriages rolled away amid much waving of handkerchiefs by the travellers and the little party left behind; then Mary carried Vio- 230 ELSIE'S WIDOWHOOD. let off to her room for a long talk before it should be time to dress for tea, while the lads strolled away together along the beach, their tongues quite as busy as the other two : for there were various college matters to discuss, beside plans for fishing, boating, riding, and driving. And Edward must sound his mother's praises and learn whether Charlie did not think fyer the yery loveliest woman he ever saw. "Yes," Charlie said with a sigh, "you are a lucky fellow, Ned. I hardly remember my mother was only five years old when she died." " Then I pity you with all my heart !" Ed- ward exclaimed; "for there's nothing like a mother to love you and stand by you through thick and thin." He turned his head away to hide the tears that sprang unbidden to his eyes, for along with his pity for his friend came a sudden recollec- tion of that dreadful event in his childhood when by an act of disobedience he had come very near killing his dearly loved father. Ah, he should never forget his agony of terror and remorse, his fear that his mother could never love him again, or the tenderness with which she had embraced him, assuring him of her for- giveness and continued affection. Meantime Donald was speaking in glowing terms, of Cousin Mary. " One of the best girls ELSIE'S WIDOWHOOD. 331 in the world," he pronounced her " so kind- hearted, so helpful and industrious. Uncle's circumstances are moderate," he said ; "Aunt's health has been delicate for years, and Mary, as the eldest of eight or nine children, has had her hands full. I am very glad she is taking a rest now, for she needs it. A maiden sister of her mother's is filling her place for a few weeks, she told me : else she could not have been spared from home." " You make me glad that I left Violet with her," Mrs. Travilla said, with a look of pleased content. Edward and his chum returned from their walk, made themselves neat, and were waiting on the piazza before the open door, as Mary and Violet came down at the call to tea. The dining-room was furnished with small tables each accommodating eight persons. Our four young friends found seats together. The other four places at their table were occupied by two couples a tall, gaunt, sour-visaged elderly man in green spectacles, and his meek little wife, and a small, thin, invalid old gentleman, who wore a look of patient resignation, and his wife, taller than himself by half a head. A fine head of beautiful grey hair was the only attractive thing about her, her features were coarse and her countenance was fretful. She occupied herself in filling and emptying her 232 ELSIE'S WIDOWHOOD. plate with, astonishing rapidity, and paid little or no attention to her husband, who was so crip- pled by rheumatism as to be almost helpless, having entirely lost the use of one hand, and so nearly that of his lower limbs that he could not walk without assistance. He had a nurse, a young German, who was with him constantly day and night, helped him about and waited upon him, but in a very awk- ward fashion. The man's clumsiness was, how- ever, borne with patience by the sufferer, and did not seem to trouble the wife. She eyed Violet curiously between her im- mense mouthf uls, and whispered to her husband, loud enough for the child to hear, " Isn't that a pretty girl, William ? such a handsome com- plexion ! I reckon she paints." The sudden crimsoning of Yi's cheek contra- dicted that suspicion instantly, and the woman corrected herself. " No, she don't, I see. I wonder who she is ?" " Hush, hush, Maria !" whispered her hus- band, "don't you see she hears you ?" and he gave the young girl such a fatherly look, gentle and tender, that quick tears sprang to her eyes: it was so strong a reminder of one whose look of parental love she should never meet again on earth. People at other tables were noticing her too^ remarking upon her beauty and grace, and ask ing each other who she was. XXJBEFB WIDOWHOOD. 233 " We'll soon find out, mamma; don't you see tfhe is with Miss Keith ? and she will be sure to introduce her to us," said a nice looking girl about Vi's age, addressing a sweet faced lady by whose side she sat. They all met in the parlor shortly afterward, and Vi, Mrs. Perkins, her daughter Susie, and her son Fred, a lad of nineteen or twenty, were formally presented to each other. " I don't want to get into a crowd; I don't care to make acquaintances," Vi had said, half tearfully. Mary understood and respected the feeling, but answered, "Yes, dear cousin, I know: but do let me introduce Mrs. Perkins and her children. She is so sweet and lovely, a real Christian lady; and her son and daughter are very nice. We have been together a great deal, and I feel as if they were old friends." Vi did not wonder at it after talking a little with Mrs. Perkins, who had made room for her on the sofa by her side; her thought was, "She is a little like mamma ; not quite so sweet nor half so beautiful: though she is very pretty." Several other ladies had come in by this time, the invalid gentlemen's wife among the rest. " Mrs. Moses," Vi heard some one call her. " How do you do, Miss ?" she said, drawing forward an arm chair and seating herself di- 234 ELSIE'S WIDOWHOOD. rectly in front of Violet. " You're a new-comer, aint you ?" "I came this afternoon," Vi answered, and turned to Mrs. Perkins with a remark about the changing beauty of the sea and clouds ; for they were near an open window that gave them a view of old ocean. "Where are you from ?" asked Mrs. Moses. "The South, Madame." " Ah ! I should hardly have suspected it : you've such a lovely complexion, and how beau- tiful your hair is ! like spun gold. The German servant-man appeared in the doorway. "Mrs. Moshes, Herr wants to see you." " Yes, I hear." Turning to Vi again, "Well, you must have had a long, tiresome journey; and I suppose you didn't come all alone?" Vi let the inquiry pass unnoticed, but the Ionian went on, "I've never been South, but I'd like to go; perhaps I shall next winter. It might help William's rheumatism." " Your husband wants you, Mrs. Moses," re- marked Mary Keith. "Oh yes; he's always wanting me. I'll go presently." " Cousin," said Mary, " shall we take a stroll on the beach?" Violet caught at the suggestion with alacrity, and they went at once % the rest of their party. ELSIE'S WIDOWHOOD. 235 and Mrs. Perkins and hers, accompanying them. " That poor man !" sighed Mary. " I thought if we all left her, perhaps she would go to him." "Isn't it strange?" said Susie, "he seems to love her dearly, and she to care nothing about him. And he is so nice and good and patient, and she so disagreeable." " A very poor sort of wife, I think," pursued Mary. " She will not even sleep on the same floor with him, for fear of being disturbed when pain keeps him awake. Day and night he is left to the care of that awkward, blundering German. But there ! I ought to be ashamed of myself for talking about an absent neighbor." " I don't think you are doing any harm, Cousin Mary," said Charlie, "for we can all see how utterly selfish the woman is." "What ! are you two cousins?" asked Edward in surprise. "First cousins, sir," returned Charlie, laugh- ing, " sisters' children. Can't you and I claim kin, seeing she's cousin to both of us?" A sudden dash of rain prevented Edward's /reply, and sent them all scurrying into the house. CHAPTER XX. 'A little more than kin and a little less than kind.' OUR little party had scarcely seated themselves in the parlor, where a number of the guests of the house were already gathered, when the in- valid gentleman was assisted in by his servant and took possession of an easy chair which Mrs. Perkins hastened to offer him. He thanked her courteously as he sank back in it with a slight sigh as of one in pain. Violet, close at his side, regarded him with pitying eyes. "I fear you suffer a great deal, sir," she said, low and feelingly, when Mary, her next neighbor, had introduced them. "Yes, a good deal, but less than when I came." " Then the sea air is doing you good, I hope. " " I'm thankful to say I think it is. There's an increase of pain to-night, but that is always to be expected in rainy weather." " You are very patient, Mr. Moses," Mary re- marked. " And why shouldn't I be patient?" he return- ed; "didn't Christ suffer far more than I do?" ELSIE'S WIDOWHOOD. 237 "And he comforts you in the midst of it all, does he not?" asked Mrs. Perkins. " He does, indeed, ma'am." " I have always found him faithful to his promises," she said. " And I," remarked another lady sitting near; "strength has always been given me according to my day, in the past, and I am glad to leave the future with him." " Humph ! it's plain to be seen that you two don't know what trouble is, "put in Mrs. Moses, glancing fretfully at her crippled spouse; whereat the poor man burst into tears. Vi's tender heart ached for him, and the coun- tenances of all within hearing of the remark ex- pressed sincere pity and sympathy. A child began drumming on the piano, and Mr. Moses sent a helpless, half despairing glance in that direction that spoke of tortured nerves. Vi saw it, and, as he turned to her with, "Don't you play and sing, my dear? You look like it, and I should be much gratified to hear you," she rose and went at once to the instru- ment, thinking of nothing but trying to bring help and comfort to the poor sufferer. "Will you let me play a little?" she said to the child, with look and tone of winning sweet- ness, and the piano-stool was promptly vacated. Seating herself, she touched a few chords, and instantly a hush fell upon the room. 238 ELSIE'S WIDOWHOOD. She played a short prelude; then, in a voice full, rich and sweet, sang " ' O Jesus! Friend unfailing, How dear art thou to me! And cares or fears assailing, I find my rest in thee ! Why should my feet grow weary Of this my pilgrim way. Rough though the path and dreary It ends in perfect day. " ' Naught, naught I count as treasure, Compared, O Christ, with thee; Thy sorrow without measure Earned peace and joy for me. I love to own, Lord Jesus, Thy claims o'er me and mine, Bought with thy blood most precious, "Whose can I be but thine 1 " ' For every tribulation, For every sore distresa In Christ I've full salvation, Sure help and quiet rest. No fear of foes prevailing, I triumph, Lord, in thee. O Jesus, Friend unfailing! How dear art thou to me !' " * Edward had made his way to her side as soon as he perceived her purpose. "You have left out half," he whispered, leaning over her, "and the words are all so sweet." * I know not who is the author of these beautiful lines. ELSIE'S WIDOWHOOD. 23r ee Yes, I know, but I feared it was too long/' There were murmurs of admiration as lie led her back to her seat. "How well she plays! such an exquisite touch!" "What a sweet voice! highly cultivated, and every word dis- tinct." "Yes, and what a beauty she is!" Some of these remarks reached Violet's ears and deepened the color on her cheek, but she forgot them all in the delight of having given pleasure to the invalid. He thanked her with tears in his eyes. The words are very sweet and comforting," he said. " Are they your own?" "Oh no, sir!" she answered. "I do not know whose they are, but I have found comfort in them, and hoped that you might also." Edward and Mary were conversing in low, earnest tones. "I am delighted!" Mary said. "With what?" "Words, music, voice, everything." "The music is her own, composed expressly for the words, which she found in a religious newspaper." " Indeed! she is a genius then! the tune is lovely." " Yes, she is thought to have a decided genius for both music and painting; I must show you gome of her pictures when you pay us that promised visit." 240 ELSIE'S WIDOWHOOD. Mr. Moses presently found himself in too much pain to remain where he was, and sum- moning his servant, retired to his own room. His wife, paying no regard to a wistful, long- ing look he gave her as he moved painfully away, remained where she was and entertained the other ladies with an account of the family pedigree. "We are lineal descendants of Moses, the Hebrew Lawgiver," she announced. " But don't suppose we are Jews, for we are not at all. " Belong to the lost ten tribes, I suppose," remarked Charles Perrine dryly. The morning's sun shone brightly in a clear sky, and on leaving the breakfast table our lit- tle party went down to the beach and sat in the sand, watching the incoming tide, before which they were now and then obliged to retreat, sometimes in scrambling haste that gave occa- sion for much mirth and laughter. Mrs. Moses came down presently and joined them, an uninvited and not over-welcome com- panion, but of course the beach was as free to her as to them. "How is your husband this morning?" in- quired Mrs. Perkins. " Oh about as usual." " I do believe it would do him good to sit here awhile with us, sunning himself." ELSIE'S WIDOWHOOD. 241 " Too damp. "No; the dampness here is from the salt water, and will harm nobody." " Where is he?" asked Fred, getting on his feet. "On the porch yonder," the wife answered, in a tone of indifference. "Come, boys, let's go and bring him!" said Fred, and at the word the other two rose with alacrity, and all three hurried to the house. They found the poor old gentleman sitting alone, save for the presence of the uncouth ser- vant standing in silence at the back of his chair, and watching with wistful, longing eyes the merry groups moving hither and thither, to and fro, between the houses and the ocean, some going down to bathe, others coming dripping from the water, some sporting among the waves, and others still, like our own party, sunning themselves on the beach. " We have come to ask you to join us, sir," Fred said in respectful but hearty tones. ' ' Won't you let us help you down to the beach? the ladies are anxious to have you there." The poor man's face lighted up with pleased surprise, then clouded slightly. " I should like to go indeed," he said, "if I could do so with- out troubling others; but that is impossible." "We should not feel it any trouble, sir." the lads returned, " but a pleasure rather, if you will let us help you there. '!_- 24fc ELSIE'S WIDOWHOOD. " I ought not to ask it of you : Jacob here can give me an arm." "No," said Edward, "let Jacob take thig opportunity for a bath., and we will fill his place in waiting upon you." The invalid yielded, and found himself moved with far more ease and comfort than he had be lieved possible. The ladies his wife, perhaps, excepted, greeted him with smiles and pleasant words of welcome. They had arranged a couch with their waterproofs and shawls, far enough from the water's edge to be secure from the waves, and here the lads laid him down with gentle carefulness. Mrs. Perkins seated herself at his head and shaded his face from the siin with her umbrella, while the others grouped themselves about, near enough to carry on a somewhat disjointed con- versation in spite of the noise of the waters. "I think a sunbath will really be good for you, Mr. Moses," said Miss Keith. "It's worth trying anyhow," he answered, with a patient smile. " And it's a real treat to do so in such pleasant company. But don't any of you lose your bath for me. I've seen a num- ber go in, and I suppose this is about the best time." "Just as the ladies say," vas the gallant re- joinder of the young men. BLSIB & WIDOWHOOD. 24^ 1 do not care tc bathe to-day," Violet said with decision. " ' he rest of you may go, and I will stay and take are of M:. Moses." "Well, I'll go then. He'll not be wanting anything." said his wife. "Ain't the rest oi you coming, ladies and gentlemen?" After some discussion, all went but Mrs. Per- kins and Violet, and they were left alone with the invalid. Vi had conceived a great pity for him, great disgust for the selfish, unsympathizing wife. " How different from mamma!" she said to herself. "She never would have wearied of waiting upon papa if he had been so afflicted; she would have wanted to be beside him, com- forting him every moment. And how sweetly it would have been done." t Little lady," the old man said, with a long- ing look into the sweet girlish face, "will you sing me that song again? It was the most de- lightful, consoling thing I've heard for many a day." "Yes, indeed, sir; I would do anything in my power to help you to forget your pain," she said, coloring with pleasure. She sang the whole of the one he had asked for, then perceiving how greatly he enjoyed it, several others of like character. He listened intently, sometimes with tears in his eyes, and thanking her warmly again and again. 344 ELSIE'S WIDOWHOOD. Finding that the old gentleman felt brighter and more free from pain during the rest of the day, ana thought he had received -enefit from his visit to tne beach, the lads helped him there again the next day. They set him down, then wandered away, .caving him in the care of the same group of Jadies who had gathered round him the day before. Each one was anxious to do something for his relief or entertainment, and he seemed both pleased with their society and grateful for their attentions. Mrs. Perkins suggested that the lame hand might be benefited by burying it in the sand while he sat there. "No harm in trying it, anyhow," he said. "Just turn me round a little, Maria, if you please." His wife complied promptly with the request, but in a way which the other ladies thought rough and unfeeling, seizing him by the collar of his coat and jerking him round to the desired position. But he made no complaint. " I think it does ease the pain," he said after a little. " I'm only sorry I can't try it every day for a while." "What is there to hinder f" asked Mrs. Perkins. ELSIE'S WIDOWHOOD, 345 " Why, we're going to-morrow," replied Mrs* Moses, shortly. "Oh, why not stay longer? You have been here but a week, and Mr. Moses has improved quite a good deal in that time." " Well, he can stay as long as he chooses, but Pm going to New York to-morrow to visit my sister." The ladies urged her to stay for her poor hus- band's sake, but she was not to be persuaded, and he was unwilling to remain without her. " Take some sand with you, then, to bury his hand in, won't you ?" said Mrs. Perkins. "I haven't anything to carry it in," was the ungracious reply. " Those newspapers." " I want to read them." " Well, if we find something to put it in, and get it all ready for you, will you take it in your trunk ?" "Yes, I'll do that." 41 1 have a good sized paper box which will answer the purpose, I think," said Mary Keith. "I'll get it." She hastened to the house, returned again in a few moments with the box, and they pro- ceeded to fill it, sifting the sand carefully through their fingers to remove every pebble. "You are taking a great deal of trouble for me, ladies." the old gentleman remarked. 246 ELSIE'S WIDOWHOOD. No trouble at all, sir," said Mary , " it's a real pleasnre to do anything we can for you: especially remembering the Master's words, ' In- asmuch as you have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, you haye done it CHAPTER XXI. " How happy they Who, from the toil and tumult of their lives, Steal to look down where nought but ocean strives." Byron* VIOLET was alone, lying on the bed, resting after her bath, not asleep, but thinking dreamily of home and mother. Only one more day and my week here will be up," she was saying to herself. "I've had a delightful time, but oh I want to see mamma and the rest !" Just then the door opened and Mary came in with a face all smiles. " Vi, I'm so glad !" she exclaimed, seating herself on the side of the bed. " What about, cousin ?" Violet asked, rous- ing herself, and with a keen look of interest. " I have just had the offer of a furnished cot- tage for two or three weeks to keep house in, you understand and I can invite several friends to stay with me, and it won't cost half so much as boarding here, beside being great fun," Mary answered, talking very fast in her excite- ment and delight. " Charlie will stay with me, I think, and I hope you and Edward will, and I have two girl friends at home whom I shall in- ELSIE'S WIDOWHOOD. vite. One is an invalid, and needs the change, 'vh so badly; but though they are not exactly poor people, not the kind one would dare offer charity to, her father couldn't afford to give her even a week at any of these hotels or boarding- houses: and she did look so wistful and sad when I bade her good-bye. ' I can hardly help envying you, Mary,' she said, * though I am ever so glad you are going. But I have such a longing to get away from home for a while to go some- where, anywhere, for a change. I'm so weak and miserable, and it seems to me that if I could only go away I should get well. I haven't been outside of this town for years.' " Violet's eyes filled with tears. " Poor thing !" she said. " I have always travelled about so much, and enjoyed it greatly. I wonder why it is I have so many more pleasures and blessings than other people." " I hope they may never be fewer," Mary said, caressing her. " But isn't it nice that now I can give poor Amy Fletcher for that is her name two or three weeks here at the sea- ehore ?" " Yes, indeed ! But you haven't told me how it happens." In reply to this Mary went on to say that a married friend who had rented the cottage she had spoken of for the year, now found that he ELSIE'S WIDOWHOOD. 349 must take his family away for a short time, mountain air being recommended for his wife, who was in poor health, and as it would cost no more to have the cottage occupied in their ab- sence than to leave it empty, he had offered her the use of it rent free. "He saw father and mother last week," she added in conclusion, " and talked it over with them, and they have written me to accept his offer by all mean^, and stay as long at the shore as I can." "But you are to visit us, you know." " Yes, afterward, if that will do. I don't in- tend to miss that pleasure if I can help it," Mary answered gleefully. " Now about my other friend, Ella Neff. She is not an invalid, but she teaches for her support, and I know such a change would do her a world of good. She wanted to come with me, but couldn't afford it ; yet I'm sure she can in this way: for beside the difference of board there will not be the same necessity for fine dress." "I should never have thought of that," said Vi. "No, of course not, you fortunate little lassie ; you have never known anything about the pinchings of poverty or the pleasures of economy," she added merrily, "for I do assure you there is often real enjoyment in finding how 250 ELSIE'S WIDOWHOOD. nicely you can contrive to make one dollar do the work of two or ' auld claes look amaist as weel's the new.' But oh, don't you think it will- he fun to keep house, do our own cooking and all ?" "Yes," Violet said ; "yes, indeed." ',' And you'll stay, won't you ? Don't you think you'd enjoy it ?" " Oh, ever so much ! but I don't believe I can wait any longer than till to-morrow to see mamma. Besides, I don't know whether she would approve." " "Well, if you should spend a day at home and get her consent to come back ; how would that do?" Vi thought that plan might answer, if Ed- ward were willing to make one of the party at the cottage. "We must consult the lads at once," said Mary. " Let me help you dress, and we'll go in search of them." Vi sprang up, and with her cousin's assistance made a rapid toilet. They found Edward and Charlie in the sum- mer-house, just across the road, waiting for the call to dinner. Fortunately no one was with- in hearing, and Mary quickly unfolded her plan. It was heard with delight. " Splendid ! Capital ! Of course we'll be glad to accept your ELSIE'S WIDOWHOOD. 251 invitation," they said : Edward, however, put- ting in the provision, " If mamma sees no objec- tion." " Or grandpa," added Violet. " All the same," said Edward; " mamma never approves of anything that he does not." " Where is the cottage ? Can we look at it ?" asked Charles. " Yes ; the family left this morning, and I have the key," Mary answered. " We could take possession to-night if we chose ; but I must lay in some provisions first." "Let's walk up (or down, whichever it is) after dinner and look at it." "Yes, Charlie, if Edward and Vi are agreed. It is up, on this street, about two blocks from here." " Directly in front of the ocean ? That's all right." " Or the ocean directly in front of it," Mary returned laughingly. " All the same ; don't be too critical, Miss Keith," said Charlie. They did not linger long over dinner or des- sert, but made haste to the cottage, eager to see what accommodations it afforded. It was small, the rooms few in number, and mere boxes compared to those Edward and Violet had been accustomed to at Ion and Via- mede; and very much more contracted than 252 ELSIE'S WIDOWHOOD. those of the cottage their mother was occupy- ing , yet all four were quite satisfied to take up their residence in it for a season. " Four bedrooms," remarked Mary reflect^ ively : " two will do for the lads and two for the lasses. Parlor and dining-room are not very spacious, but will hold us all when neces- sary ; I don't suppose we'll spend much of the daytime within doors. By the way, I think we must add Don Keith to our party if he'll come." The boys said " By all means," and Vi raised no objection. " When do you expect Ella and Amy ?" asked Charles, who was well acquainted with both. "I telegraphed to mother at once to invite them, and shall expect to see them about day after to-morrow." " What sort of provisions do you propose to lay in, Miss Keith ?" inquired Charlie. " I am personally interested in that." " I djo not doubt that in the least, Mr. Per- rine," she answered demurely. "1 intend to buy some of the best flour and groceries that I ean find." " Flour ? can't you buy bread here ?" " Yes, but perhaps I may choose to exhibit my skill in its manufacture; also in that of cake and pastry." "Ah! Well, no objection to that except that ELSIE'S WIDOWHOOD. 353 we don't want you shut up in the kitchen when the rest of us are off pleasuring. "What about other supplies ?" "I see you have some idea of what is neces- sary in housekeeping, Charlie, and I'll give you a good recommendation to the first nice girl who asks me if you'll make a good husband," Mary returned, looking at her cousin with laughing eyes. ''Am I to have an answer to my question, Miss Keith ?" he inquired with dignity " Yes, when I see fit to give it. The Mar- stons were, of course, served with butter, eggs, milk and cream, fish, flesh, and fowl, and Mr. Marston told me he had spoken to the persons thus serving him and his to do likewise by me and mine : does this explanation relieve your mind, Mr. Perrine ?" " Entirely. I am satisfied that we are not invited to share starving rations, which I am morally certain would give me the dyspepsia." " I think we are very fortunate," Mary re- marked, resuming her ordinary tone ; " they have left us bedding, table and kitchen furni- ture, and we have nothing whatever to provide except our food, drink and clothing." " I shall order a carriage for an early hour to- morrow morning," said Edward, "and drive over to see my mother. Vi will, of course, go along, and I wish, Cousin Mary, that you and Charlie would go top."... 254: ELSIE'S WIDOWHOOD "Thank you very much," Mary said. "I should enjoy it extremely, but there are some few arrangements to be made here. The girls may come to-morrow evening, and I must be here and ready to receive them." Then Charlie decided that he must stay and take care of Mary ; so it was finally arranged that Edward and Violet should go alone, and the former attend to the ordering of the groceries, and anything else he could think of that was desirable and did not require to be fresh. When the carriage containing Edward and Violet drove up to their mother's door, nearly all the family and their guests were out upon the beach. There was instantly a glad shout from Harold, Herbert and Walter, "There they are!" and they, their sisters and grandfather started at once for the house, while Mrs. Dinsmore and Mrs. Travilla, who were within, hastened to the door. Mrs. Conly and Virginia, slowly sauntering along within sight of the cottage, looked after those who were hurrying towards it, with smiles of contempt. " Such a hugging and kissing as there will be now!" sneered Virginia; "they will make as much fuss as if they hadn't seen each other for five years." "Yes," returned her mother, "and I don't ELSIE'S WIDOWHOOD. 255 wish to be a spectator of the sickening scene. Thank fortune I'm not of the overly affectionate kind." "Mamma, mamma!" cried Violet, springing into the dear arms so joyfully opened to receive her, " oh, I am so glad, so glad to see you again!" "Not more glad than mamma is, darling,'* Elsie said, clasping her close with tender caresses. " And you've come home a day sooner than you were expected! how good in you!" the younger Elsie exclaimed, taking her turn. " Yes, but not to stay ; that is, I mean if mamma consents to " Bat the sentence remained unfinished for awhile, there were so many claiming a hug and kiss from both herself and Edward ; indeed I am afraid Virginia was so far correct in her predic- tion that there was as much embracing and re- joicing, perhaps even more, than there would have been in the Conly family in receiving a brother and sister who had been absent for years. But when all that had been attended to, and the pleasant little excitement began to subside, it did not take many minutes for mamma and grandpa and grandma to learn all about the proposed essay in housekeeping on the part of the young folks. " What! does my Vi want to leave her mother so soon?" Mrs. Travilla said with hall 256 ELSIE'S WIDOWHOOD. reproachful tenderness, putting an arm about the slender, girlish waist, and pressing another kiss on the softly rounded, blooming cheek. " No, mamma dearest," Yi said, blushing and laying her head down on her mother's shoulder, " but the house here is as full as ever, isn't it?" "Yes, but that makes no difference; there is plenty of room." "Well, mamma, I don't like to be away from you, or any of the dear ones, but I do think it would be great fun for a little while. Don't you? wouldn't you have liked it when you were my age?" " Yes, I daresay I should, and I see no great objection, if you and Edward wish to try it. What do you say, papa?" " That I think their mother is the right per- son to decide the question, and that I do not suppose they can come to any harm," Mr. Dins- more answered, with a kindly look and smile di- rected to Edward and Violet. " I doubt if I should have allowed you to do such a thing at Vi's age, Elsie," he added, " but I believe I grow more indulgent with advancing years perhaps more foolish." "No, papa, I cannot think that," she said, lifting her soft eyes to his with a world of filial tenderness and reverence in their brown depths ; " I lean very much upon the wisdom of your decisions. Well, dears, since grandpa does not ELSIE'S WIDOWHOOD. 257 disapprove, you have my full consent to do as you please in this matter." They thanked her warmly. "Cousin Mary would be delighted if Elsie would come too," said Violet, looking wishfully at her sister, " and so would I. I don't sup- pose, mamma, you could spare us both at once, but if Elsie would like to go, I will stay, and not feel it the least bit of a hardship either," she added, turning to her mother with a bright, affectionate smile. "I should be lonely with both my older daughters away," the mother said, " but I will not be selfish in my love. Elsie may go, too, if she wishes." " Dear, kind mamma, selfishness is no part of your nature," her namesake daughter re- sponded promptly, " but Elsie has not the slight- est desire to go. Yet I thank my sweet sister ail the same for her very kind and unselfish offer," she added, giving Violet a look of strong affection. "But what is grandpa to do without his merry little cricket?" asked Mr. Dinsmore, drawing Vi down upon his knee. " For how long is it? one, two, or three weeks?" " I don't know, grandpa ; perhaps I shall grow tired and homesick, and want to come back directly." " Well, no one will be sorry to see you, come when you may." 258 ELSIE'S WIDOWHOOD. "You will always be joyfully welcomed," added mamma ; " nor Edward less so. Now let us consider what you will need, and how best to provide it. I claim the privilege of furnishing all the groceries and everything else for the lar- der that need not be procured upon the spot." "Oh, thank you, mamma!" said Edward; "but I knew you would." Violet asked and obtained permission to sleep with her mother that night, and all day long was scarcely absent from her side. Evidently the child had a divided heart, and was at times more than half inclined to stay at home. But Edward urged that he would not half enjoy himself without her, that she had promised to go if mamma did not withhold consent, and that Mary would be sadly disappointed if she failed to return with him. Donald Keith, too, who was still there, and had accepted Mary's invitation, added his persuasions. "He was sure they would have a very pleasant time, and if she grew homesick she could drive home any day in a couple of hours; he would be glad to bring her over himself if she would let him, or she could come in less time by the cars." Then her mother came to her help. "I think it will be best for you to go, dear, even if you should stay but a day or two," she said. " And if your grandpa likes, he and I will drive over with you, and see your snug little cottage, ELSIE'S WIDOWHOOD. 259 and whether there is anything we can do to add to the comfort or enjoyment of those who are to occupy it for a season." "A very good idea, daughter," Mr. Dins- more said, and Vi's rather troubled face grew bright. " Oh how nice, mamma !" she exclaimed. " I will go without any more foolish hesitation, although I do not think Edward is quite cor- rect in saying I promised." " Foolish enough !" sneered Virginia, who prided herself on her audacity in making disa- greeable remarks. " I should be very much ashamed of myself if I were half the mother* baby you are." "And I," remarked Mr. Dinsmore severely, irritated out of all patience by the pained look in Yi's face, " should be more ashamed of my sweet little granddaughter if she were as heart- less and ready to wound the feelings of others as a certain niece of mine se- ms to be." " Will you come to my house-warming, Mrs. Perkins, you and Fred and Susie ?" asked Mary Keith as they left the breakfast-table of the Colorado House the next morning. "I ex- pect my cousins the Travillas about dinner- time, and the morning train may bring the other guests. I mean to be all ready for them at any rate. The dinner is to be prepared with my own hands, and though it will be on a small 260 ELSIE'S WIDOWHOOD. scale compared with those served here, you shall at least have a hearty welcome." ''Thank you, we would he delighted, but are already engaged for the picnic," Mrs. Per- kins said. So they parted with mutual good wishes, each hoping the other would have an enjoyable day. Charles and Mary made themselves busy in seeing to the removal to the cottage of their own and cousin's luggage, making some pur- chases at the provision stores, and some rear- rangements of furniture ; then about the din- ner, Mary pressing Charlie into her service as sheller of peas, husker of corn, and beater of They had a very merry time over their work, though Charlie protested vigorously against be- ing set at such menial tasks, and declared that "Ed" should be made to do a fair share of them in future. Mary sent him t the train to meet the girls, while she stayed behind to watch ever the din- ner. He had scarcely gone when a carnage drew up at the door, and Mr. and Mrs. Dinsmore, Mrs. Travilla, Edward and Violet, and Donald Keith alighted therefrom and came trooping in, most of them laden with parcels, while the driver brought up the rear, carrying a large hamper that seemed to be well filled and heavy. ELSIE'S WIDOWHOOD. 261 Mary's first emotion on seeing the arrival was delight, the second a sudden fear that her din- ner would not suffice for so many. But that fear was relieved at sight of the hamper and a whisper from Vi, who headed the procession, that it contained such store of pro- vision as would obviate the necessity of much cooking for several days to come. " Oh how good and kind in your mother!" Mary exclaimed in a like low tone, then has- tened to welcome her guests with unmixed pleasure. "0 Cousin Elsie, how nice in you to come and to bring Edward and Violet ! You are going to let them stay, I am sure, and I am so glad. So glad to see you, too, Cousin Rose and Cousin Horace: it seems as if I ought to call you aunt and uncle, though." " Then suppose you do," Mr. Dinsmore said, shaking hands with her, and kissing her rosy cheek. " You have my permission." " I shall, then, and thank you," she returned in her bright merry tones. " Don," turning to Mr. Keith with outstretched hands, " so here you are ! that's a good boy." " Yes, and so good a boy must not be put off with less than others get," he said, following Mr. Dinsmore's example. "Well, as you are only a cousin it doesn't matter," she remarked indifferently. " Please 262 ELSIE'S WIDOWHOOD, all make yourselves at home. Oh there's the stage stopping at the gate ! the girls have come!" and she flew out to welcome them. The little parlor was quite inconveniently crowded, but that afforded subject for mirth, as Mary introduced her friends and bustled about trying to find seats for them all. " "We shall have to take dinner in relays or else set a table in here, besides the one in the dining-room/' she said, laughing. " Let Amy and me go to our room and dress while your first set eat, and give us our dinner afterwards," suggested Ella Xeff. " Yes, I should much prefer it," Miss Fletcher said, "for we are really too dusty and dirty to sit down to your table now." "And I shall act as waiter to the first table and eat with these ladies at the second," said Charlie. "Very well, I can manage to seat the rest," Mary said ; and so it was arranged. The dinner proved very nice and very abun- dant with the help of the contents of the ham- per. Mary's cooking received many praises, in which Charlie claimed a share, because, as he said, he had assisted largely. CHAPTER XXII. W O spirits gay, and kindly heart! Precious the blessings ye impart!" Joanna BaUlie. WELL, cricket, are we to carry you back with us ?" Mr. Dinsmore asked, with a smiling look at Violet. " If so, 'tis time to be tying on your hat, for the carriage is at the door." "No, grandpa, I am going to stay," she answered, holding up her face for a parting kiss. " I am well satisfied with your decision, dear child," her mother said when bidding her good- bye, as they and Edward stood alone together for a moment on the little porch. "I think these young people are all safe associates for you and your brother," turning to him and taking a hand of each, "and that you will enjoy your- selves very much with them. But, my darlings, never forget in the midst of your mirth and gayety or in trouble, if that should come that God's eye is upon you, and that you have a Christian character to maintain before men. Let me give you a parting text, * Whether therefore ye eat, or drink, or whatsoever ye do, do all to the glory of God. ' And yet another for your joy and comfort, ' The Lord God is a sun and shield. 1 264 ELSIE'S WIDOWHOOD. the Lord will give grace and glory : no good thing will he withhold from them that walk uprightly.' " "Was there ever such another dear, good mother as ours ?" Violet said to her brother, al together they watched the carriage out of sight. "I wish there were thousands like her," he answered. " Ever since I can remember it has been plain to me that what she most desired for all her children was that they might be real, true, earnest Christians. Vi, if we are not all that, we can never lay the blame at our mother's door." "Nor papa's either," Violet said with a sigh and a tear to his memory, " for he was just as careful as she is to train us up for God and heaven." " Yes," Edward assented with emotion. " O Vi, if I could but be the man he was I" They went into the house. In the little par- lor Amy Fletcher reclined on a sofa gazing out through the open door upon the sea. " I have had my first sight of old ocean to- day," she said, glancing up at them as they came in, " and oh how beautiful it is ! how de- licious this breeze coming from it ! it surely must bring health and strength to any one who is not very ill indeed !" " I hope it will to you," Violet said, sitting down by her side. ELSIE'S WIDOWmOD. 265 *I hope so," she returned with a cheerful iook and smile, "for the doctors tell me I have no organic disease, and that nothing is more likely to build me up than sea air and sea-bathing." Amy was small and fragile in appearance, but not painfully thin ; she had large dark grey eyes, brown hair, a sweet patient expression, a clear complexion, and though usually rather too pale and quiet, when excited or greatly in- terested the color would come and go on her cheek, her eyes shine, and her whole face light up in a way that made her decidedly pretty. She was weary now with her journey and a visit to the beach, though she had only walked to a summer house near by and sat there while the rest strolled about. Merry sounds of jest and laughter were com- ing from the kitchen. " The girls are washing the dishes," Amy said with a smile, " and the lads helping or hinder- ing, I don't know which.* " The dinner dishes ?" asked Violet. "Yes, Mary set them aside for the time, that she might enjoy the company of yonr friends while they stayed." " Do you think I could be of any assistance out there ?" queried Edward, with gravity. " I have an idea that the place is quite full now," Amy said, with a merry glance up into fais face. " I wish there was room for us all, for 263 jfLSSE'S WIDOWHOOD. they seem to be haying a great deal of sport. Just hark how they are laughing ! Well, our turn Trill come. Don't you think we are going to have a jolly time here ?" The door opened and the two young men came in. "You don't know what you've missed, Ed," said Charlie helping himself to a chair near Amy's couch; " housework's jolly good fun." " When you don't have too much of it," re- marked Amy. "And do it in pleasant company," added Donald. "And under a capable and kind instructress," supplemented Mary, speaking from the kitchen. "What are your terms for tuition, Miss Keith ?" inquired Edward, as she and Ella Xeff joined the circle in the parlor. " Beginners get their board, which is some- times more than they earn." " Is that all ?" said Donald. " Then I think I shall retire from the service." " I advise you to do no such thing," said Ella, " the knowledge you gain may prove invaluable in some future emergency : some time when you find yourself out on the plains or buried in the forests of the Far West, with no gentle, loving woman at hand to prepare your meals." " In that case there would doubtless be an ingentle and obedient orderly to do so," re- joined Donald with gravity. ELSIE'S WIDOWHOOD. 267 " Well, women are often lectured by news- paper writers and others on the paramount duty of making themselves acquainted with the culinary art, as well as everything else pertain- ing to housewifery, in order that they may he fully capable of directing the labors of their ser- vants, and I see no reason why the rule shouldn't hold good for men," remarked Ella. " There, sir, you're cornered, Donald !" laughed Charlie. "Now that we are all here together, suppose we make such arrangements as are necessary to constitute ourselves a tolerably orderly household," said Mary. "I understood that you were commanding officer, and the rest of us had nothing to do but obey orders," said Donald. " Quite a mistake. This is not an army, but a democracy, in which the majority rules. All important questions, therefore " " Such as the bill of fare for dinner," sug- gested Charlie. "Excuse the hint, ma'am." " Are to be put to vote," Mary went on, not deigning to notice the interruption. " Mr. Keith, I propose that you, as the eldest of the party, take the chair." " Which ?" he asked with serious air. " That large, easy one, which each of us is politely leaving for somebody else." Donald promptly took possession. "Is the meeting ready for busme-es ?" he asked. 268 ELSIE'S WIDOWHOOD. " Eeady 1" responded Charles and Edward. " Somebody make a motion, then." " I move that Miss Mary Keith be elected housekeeper extraordinar) and cook plenipoten- tiary/' said Ella. " I second the motion," said Edward. " You have all heard the motion, and to save useless repetition I put it to vote. All in favor" A simultaneous " Aye !" from all present, Mary excepted. " Who are to be my assistants ?" she asked. " All of us, I suppose/' said Charles. " Ko, not Amy : she's the invalid, and must be taken care of by the heartiest and strongest, which is probably your humble servant, ladies and gentle- men." " Doubtful that !" said Edward, with a down- ward glance at his own stout limbs. "I think we should all help in that and with the housework," remarked Yi modestly. " Cousin Mary, I can make beds, sweep and dust very nicely, mamma says. It was her wish that I should learn, and I did." " So can I," said Ella, " and we'll undertake that part of the work together, if you like, Miss" " Call me Violet or Vi." "Yes," said Charlie. "I move that every- body be called by the Christian name or some ELSIE'S WIDOWHOOD. 269 abbreviation thereof as a saving of trouble, and showing a friendly disposition toward each other." " Agreed," said Donald, " but let it be under- stood that there's no objection to the prefix of cousin." " At what hours shall we take our meals ?" a^ked Mary." "Make a motion," said Donald. " Breakfast at eight, dinner at one, tea at six ; will these hours suit all ? If not, let us hare objections." " Speak now, or forever hold your peace," said Charlie. " They suit me well enough if the rule be not too rigidly enforced, so as to interfere with pleasuring." " I didn't mean they should do that," said Mary; "they are only to be a general guide." " And if anybody happens to indulge in an extra morning nap, what's to be the penalty ?" "A cold and lonely breakfast, I suppose. Perhaps to wash his own dishes besides." " All in favor of the hours named for meals please signify it by saying aye," said Donald. " Aye !" from every tongue. " Anything else, Miss Keith ?" he asked. " Just one thing more," she answered, speak- ing with a sudden seriousness, and in a low, almost tremulous tone that sobered them all instantly. 270 ELSIE'S WIDOWHOOD. She went on with an effort. " We all pro* fess to be Christians: shall we live together, even for the short space of two or three weeks, like heathen or mere worldings ?" A moment's silence, then Donald said with quiet gravity, " Surely not, Mary." " We will not partake of the food God pro- vides for our nourishment and enjoyment with- out asking his blessing upon it, or begin or end the day without prayer and praise, will we ?" she asked. " Oh no !" came softly from the lips of Amy and Violet, and was echoed by the other voices. "Then which of you, my three cousins, Don, Edward, and Charlie, will take the lead in these acts of worship ?" A longer silence than before ; then Vi turned a wistful, pleading look upon her brother. There was no mistaking its meaning ; and his mother's parting words were ringing in his ears. " If no one else is willing," he said, " I will do it." "Thank you, Edward," said Charlie, rising and grasping his hand ; " but it would be too selfish to leave you to do it alone ; so I will take my turn." '' I too," said Donald. " It should never be said of a soldier that he refused to stand by his colors." ELSIE'S WIDOWHOOD. 271 "Or of a follower of Christ that he was shamed of his Master's service," added Ed- ward. So it was arranged that they should take turns, day about, according to their age. "Five o'clock just an hour to tea-time," Charlie said, consulting his watch: "what shall we do with it ? Amy, do you feel equal to a stroll on the beach, with the support of my arm ?" " Thank you, it would be very nice, but I am tired enough to think it still nicer just to lie here and look at the sea," she said. "I shall not mind being left alone, though ; so, please, all the rest of you go. And to-morrow I shall be able to join you, I hope." " Ah no, we won't leave you here all alone," said several voices. "No," said Mary, "for I am going to stay with her. I am weary enough just now to pre- fer resting in this easy chair to a ramble on the beach or anywhere else ; and beside, I want a chat with Amy." " Secrets to tell, eh ?" said Charlie, picking up his hat. " Good-bye, then. Don't forget to speak well of the absent." " Oh I am so glad to be alone with you for a little while, Mary," Amy said, when the others had all gone. " I want to thank you for your kindness in asking me to come here ; such a 272 ELSIE'S WIDOWHOOD. blessed relief as it was ! for it seemed to me the very monotony of my life was killing me." "The thanks hardly belong to me," Mary said, between a smile and a tear, as she leaned over Amy, gently smoothing back ike iiair from her forehead. " I think they should be given first to our heavenly Father, and second to Mr. Marston." "Yes, and third to you, Mary. I used to wonder over that text in Isaiah ' He that be- lieveth shall not make haste.' I didn't know what it meant, but I believe I do now." "Well, dear, what is your explanation?" " I think it means he that is strong in faith will patiently and calmly wait God's time for the fulfilment of his promises, and for relief from trouble and trial. Oh if I could but do it always !'' " And I," sighed Mary; " but oh how oiten I am guilty of making haste for myself or for others my dear ones especially. There is poor mother so often sick, and it is so hard to see her suffer, when she is so good, too, so patient and cheerful and resigned." "Yes, I know that must be far harder than suffering yourself " "Amy," Mary said after a pause, "you must not forget that ; t is a very great pleasure to me to have you here, and that if you and the others had refused to come and stay with me I could not have accepted Mr. Marston's offer." ELSIE'S WIDOWHOOD. 273 " It is very generous in you to set it in that light," Amy answered, with a grateful look and smile. They found so much to talk about that time flew very fast, and they were greatly surprised on seeing Ella and Violet coming up the path from the gate to the house. " Surely it is not six yet !" Mary exclaimed. "No, only half -past five," Vi said, taking out her watch ; " but you are tired, and Ella and I want you to let us get the tea." " Good girls !" returned Mary gayly. "I feel quite rested now, but you may help if you like. I'm not going to cook much, though only to make tea and stew a few oysters." Tea and the clearing up after it well over, they all gathered on the porch, where they had the full benefit of the breeze and could get a glimpse of the sea by the light of the stars, and listen to its ceaseless murmur, while amusing themselves with cheerful chat and in making arrangements for various pleasure excursions about the vicinity. It was unanimously decided to reserve the long walks until Amy should grow stronger, in order that she might share the enjoyment. In the meanwhile they would fill up the time with bathing, lounging, short strolls, driving, and boating. They finished the evening with the singing of 374: ELSIE'S WIDOWHOOD. hymns, a chapter of the Bible read aloud by Donald, and a short, earnest prayer, well suited to their needs, offered by him. The next day their plans were interfered with by a constant, steady rainfall, but no one fretted or looked dull. Most of them took their bath in spite of it, and there were books and games with which to while away the time within doors. The second day was bright and clear. Amy felt herself already so greatly improved that she was eager for a proposed boating excursion on Shark River. Breakfast was prepared, eaten, and cleared away in good season. Mary was an excellent manager, working rapidly and well herself and skilfully directing the labors of others. They took the stage down to the river, hired a boat large enough to carry the whole party, gpent a couple of hours in rowing back and forth, up and down, then returned home as they had come, reaching there in season for their bath and the preparation of a good though not very elaborate dinner, Mary press- ing Ella and the lads into her service, while Amy and Violet were ordered to lie down and rest after their bath. "What's the programme for this afternoon?'* asked Charlie, finishing his dessert and pushing his plate aside. "Dish-washing, a long lounge on beds and ELSIE'S WIDOWHOOD. 375 couches, then tea and a second chapter of cleans- ing of utensils, followed by an evening stroll on the beach," answered Mary. " And what for to-morrow?" queried Donald. "Ah, that reminds me," said Edward, "that Mrs. Perkins told me she expects her husband by the evening train, and wants us to join them to-morrow in getting up a fishing party. The plan is to drive over to Manasquan, hire a boat there and go out on the ocean. What do you all say about it?" The young men were highly in favor of the trip ; Amy would see how she felt in the morn- ing ; Violet demurred, lest there might be dan- ger in going upon the ocean, and " because she could not see any pleasure in catching fish ; it seemed so cruel." " But you eat them," reasoned her brother. " Yes, I know, and I suppose it is very incon- sistent to object to catching them, but I do. I could not enjoy seeing them suffer." " You can go with us without feeling obliged to share in that, can you not?" asked Donald. "Needn't even go out in the boat unless you choose," put in Charlie. "We'll find a shady spot under the trees near the shore where you can sit and watch us." Violet thought that plan would do very well; she could take a book along, and the time would not seem tedious. 276 ELSIE'S WIDOWHOOD. "But Mary has not spoken," said Donald, turning to her. "I see no objection to your going, any or all of you," she answered brightly, " but I must be excused." " But why?" they all asked in various tones of disappointment and inquiry. "Because to-morrow is Saturday, and the cook and housekeeper must make ready for the Sabbath rest by doing two days' work in one." " Can't we manage that somehow?" asked Donald. Mary shook her head. "No; but I shan't mind it at all. Go and enjoy yourselves, my children, and leave me to attend to my duties at home." ''The rest can go if they choose, but if you stay at home, cousin, I shall stay with you." announced Violet with decision. They rose from the table. "Mary," said Charlie, "let the dishes stand a bit. I'm going to the post-office," and seizing his hat he disappeared, followed by the laughter of the others." " Quick, now, lads and lasses, let's have them all out of the way before he gets back," said Ella, beginning to clear the table in hot haste. The heat of the sun was too great to allow of very fast walking, and Charlie was gone a full ELSIE'S WIDOWHOOD. 377 ialf hour ; when he returned he found them all sitting at their ease in the parlor. "I think we'll leave those dishes till the cool of the evening, Mary," he said, wiping the perspiration from his forehead. "No, I can't consent to that not on ordi- nary occasions," she answered demurely. "Then back to the post-office goes this let- ter!" he cried threateningly, holding aloft on& with her address upon it." " Silly boy, the dishes are done without your help ; give it to me!" she cried, springing up and catching it out of his hand. " A fortunate day; nobody neglected by Un- cle Sam's messengers," he said, pulling several more from his pocket and distributing them. The tongues were silent for a moment; then Vi uttered a joyous exclamation. " Mary, you needn't stay at home to-morrow ! mamma says she will send a hamper by the evening train to-morrow, with provision to last us over Sun- day, so that you need not be troubled with Sat- urday cooking." Everybody was glad, everybody thankful. " But to-morrow's dinner," said Mary, pres- ently; " shall we get back in time for me to cook it?" "I don't know," said Edward; "but there are hotels where we can dine, and I invite you all to be my guests at whichever one the party 278 ELSIE'S WIDOWHOOD. may select. Now, Cousin Mary," as he read hesitation in her face, " I shall be hurt if any- body refuses my invitation." So no one ventured an objection. The day proved auspicious. Amy was unu- sually well, everybody else in good health and spirits, no excuse for staying at home: so all went and spent the entire day, taking an early start and not returning till late in the afternoon. CHAPTER XXIII. " Macbeth. If we should fail "LadyM. We fall! But screw yonr courage to the sticking place, And we'll not fail." Shakespeare. SUNDAY morning came and our young friends met at the breakfast table, not in their usual jesting, mirthful mood, but with cheerful grav- ity of demeanor, suited to the sacredness of the day. f< There is no preaching, no sort of religious service within our reach to-day," Edward re- marked. " Then shall we not have one of our own?" asked Mary. " I have a book of sermons: one might be read aloud; then we can have three prayers and as many hymns as we please; we all sing." "And we might have a Bible reading also," suggested Ella. ' 'And suppose we take up the In- ternational Sunday-school Lesson and study it.'* All these propositions were received with fa- vor and eventually carried out. They did not think it wrong to stroll quietly along the shore, or to sit there watching the , play of the billows, and thus they ended their afternoon. 280 ELSIE'S WIDOWHOOD. The evening was pleasantly spent in serious talk and the singing of hymns on the front porch, where they could feel the breeze and see the foam-crested waves by the light of a young moon. They retired early, feeling that they had had an enjoyable, restful day, and rose betimes, full of life and vigor except Amy; and even she felt equal to a longer stroll than she had yet taken. The days flew by on swift wings, each bring- ing its duties and enjoyments with it, and so pleasant was the gay, free life they led that at times they half regretted that it must come to an end. Yet there were other times when some, if not all of them, anticipated, with real satisfaction, the return to the more serious business of life. There was a very frequent exchange of visits between their party and the one to which Ed- ward and Violet more properly belonged; some- times by way of the cars, at others by riding or driving; so that Violet was never many days without sight and speech of her mother and some of the other dear ones at home; and that recon- ciled her to a longer absence from it. At length the younger Elsie was persuaded to come and spend a few days with Mary and her party, the mother consenting to spare both daughters for that length of time. The sweet ELSIE'S WIDOWHOOD.