CHAPTER FOURTH.
"Grace was in all her steps, heaven in her eye, In ev'ry gesture, dignity and love." --MILTON'S PARADISE LOST.
"But, Elsie, what of Mr. Travilla?" asked her father, as he handed herinto the saddle.
"He will not be here till evening, sir," she answered, the rose on hercheek deepening slightly.
"Then I can have undisturbed possession for to-day at least," replied Mr.Dinsmore, mounting. "We couldn't have a lovelier day for a ride."
"Nor better company," added Elsie, archly, keeping her horse's head on aline with that of her father's larger Steed, as they followed the windingcarriage road at a brisk canter.
"Why, you conceited little puss?" returned Mr. Dinsmore laughing.
Elsie blushed more deeply this time. "Why, papa, you are the companyto-day, are you not? I wished to go, and you kindly arranged to accompanyme."
"Ah! and that is how you look at it? Well, I recall my rebuke, and thankyou for your--what shall I say--pretty compliment, or appreciation of mysociety?"
"Both, if you like. Oh, how nice it is to be at home again in our own dearnative land."
"And what do you call your own dear native land?"
"What a strange question, papa! The great, grand old Union to besure--North and South, East and West--is it not all mine? Have you nottaught me so yourself?"
"Yes," he said musingly.
They rode on in silence for some minutes, and when he spoke again, it wasupon a subject entirely foreign to the last.
"The place looks natural," he remarked, as they turned into the avenueleading to the fine old dwelling of the Carringtons.
"How kind, how very kind, to come so soon!" was Mrs. Carrington's cordial,joyful salutation. "Mr. Dinsmore, I owe you a thousand thanks for not onlypermitting your daughter to come, but bringing her yourself."
"You are very welcome, my dear madam," he answered courteously; "and,indeed, I should like to see Mrs. Rose myself, when she is well enough andfeels that it will be agreeable to her."
A few moments' chat in the drawing-room, and Mr. Dinsmore drew out hiswatch. "How long a talk do you want with your friend to-day, Elsie?" heasked.
"Oh, just as long as I can be allowed, papa!" she cried, with much of theold childish eagerness.
"Then the sooner you begin, the better, I think, for we ought to be on ourway to Roselands in an hour, or an hour and a quarter at the farthest."
Upon that the gentlemen retired to the library to talk over businessmatters, and Mrs. Carrington led the way for Elsie to Lucy's room. Butpausing in the upper hall, she took the young girl in her arms, foldingher in a close, loving embrace, and heaping upon her tearful, tender,silent caresses.
"My poor boy! my poor dear Herbert," she murmured at length, as shereleased her hold. "Darling, I can never forget that you might have beenmy daughter. But there--I will leave you. Lucy occupies her old rooms, andyonder is her door; you know the way."
"But come in with me, dear Mrs. Carrington," urged Elsie, the tearsshining in her eyes.
"No, dear, not just yet. Lucy would prefer to see you quite alone atfirst, I know." And she glided away in the opposite direction.
A soft, cooing sound came to Elsie's ear, mingled with fondling words, ina negro voice, as she stood an instant waiting admittance. Lucy, a gooddeal paler and thinner than the Lucy of old, lay back in an easy chair,languidly turning the leaves of a new magazine.
"Open the door, mammy," she said, "I thought I heard a rap." Then at sightof Elsie, the magazine was hastily tossed aside, and with a cry of joy,"Oh, you darling! I thought I'd never see you again," she sprang forward,caught her friend in a close embrace, and wept upon her neck.
Elsie soothed her with caresses and words of endearment, and presently shecalmed down, made her friend take a seat, and sinking back into her own,wiped away the tears still welling up in her eyes, and with a littlehysterical laugh said, "Please don't look so concerned, or think I'munhappy with my dear old Phil, or going to die, or any such nonsense: it'sjust my nerves; hateful, torturing things! I wish I'd never found out Ihad any."
"You poor dear, I'm so sorry for your lost health," said Elsie, exchangingher chair for a low ottoman at Lucy's feet, and taking the small thinhands in hers, stroking and patting them caressingly; "I know nerves won'tbe reasoned with, and that tears are often a great relief."
"And I've everything to make me happy," sobbed Lucy--"the best husband inthe world, and the darlingest of babies, to say nothing of mamma and papa,and the rest, and really almost everything one could desire."
"Oh, the baby, yes!" cried Elsie, turning towards it with eager interest;"the sweet, pretty darling. May I take him a moment, Lucy?"
"Certainly, if he's not too heavy--bring him here, mammy. I remember yourfather would not allow you to lift or carry little Horace."
"Ah, but that was years ago! Ah, how lovely he is!" as the babe acceptedher mute invitation to come to her. "You are rich indeed, with thistreasure added to all your others. And you and your Phil don't quarrelyet?"
"No indeed! not the first cross word yet. Mamma calls us her turtle-doves:says we're always billing and cooing. Ah, Elsie, how beautiful you are!I've always thought you just as lovely as possible, yet there's an addedsomething--I can't divine what--that increases even your peerlessattractions."
"O Lucy, Lucy, still a flatterer!" laughed her friend.
"Yet you've come back to us single," Lucy went on, ignoring theinterruption, "though we all know you had ever so many good offers. Pray,do you intend to remain single all your days?"
At that, Elsie's face dimpled all over with blushes and smiles.
Lucy signed to the nurse to take the babe, and as the woman walked awaywith it in her arms, turned eagerly to her friend.
"Now do tell me; for I'm sure you are not going to live single. Shall wehave the pleasure of hailing you as duchess yet?"
"No, Lucy; I intend to marry; am actually engaged, but not to aforeigner."
"Dear me! I don't believe I could have resisted the title. That is," sheadded, hastily, "if I'd been heart-whole like you: but after seeing myPhil, of course I wouldn't give him up for all the nobles in Europe, Asia,and Africa. But do tell me who is the fortunate man?"
"Suppose you try your skill at guessing."
"Perfectly useless, never had any. It must be somebody I don't know."
"My good little woman, you know him well."
"Either of Harry's brothers-in-law? Richard? Harold?"
"No, no, no; you are wide of the mark! Could you suppose papa would everconsent to such a mixture of relationships? Why, it would make papa mybrother and mamma's brother her son-in-law."
"So it would. Well, I give it up and beg of you to put a speedy end to mysuspense."
Lucy bent her head to listen, and Elsie murmured the name low and softly,the rose deepening on her cheek as she spoke. For a moment Lucy seemedstruck dumb with astonishment. Then, "Elsie!" she exclaimed, "I can'tbelieve it; you are only jesting."
Elsie shook her head with a low, musical, happy laugh.
"He's splendid, I don't deny that; but then--only think--your father'smost intimate friend from boyhood up; and almost as old."
"Some people seem like wine--to improve with age. But Mr. Travilla is notold to me now. He has been standing still, I believe, while I have grownup to him."
"And you really are in love with him?"
"He has all my heart, all the love I could give to any one, and I respect,honor, and trust him as I do no one else but my father."
"And that reminds me; I was so afraid your father would not let you cometo see me. But--you are your own mistress now, of course."
"Papa tells me so sometimes," laughed Elsie, "and yet I know he would begreatly surprised should I take the liberty of doing anything he would notapprove. I asked his permission to come, and he not only gave consent butbrought me himself."
"That was good in him; but I hope he won't hurry you away. I want to hear
about your European conquests, and have ever so much to say besides."
"No, he has kindly promised me time for a long talk. Besides, I can rideover any day and supplement it with another."
Mr. Dinsmore was as good as his word; their chat had lasted more than anhour when his summons came, yet Lucy declared it had not been half longenough, and would not be satisfied to let Elsie go without a promise tocome again very soon.
* * * * *
"Roselands, too, looks very natural, and very homelike," remarked Mr.Dinsmore, as they rode up its avenue.
"Yes, papa; and yet, do you know, it seems to me it has grown smaller andless grand since I lived here as a child."
"Ah! did you think it very grand then, daughter?" he asked, turning to herwith a smile.
"I believe so, papa; but it is beautiful yet, even after all the fineplaces we have seen in our own country and Europe."
Adelaide met them at the door. "Just in time," she said, "for there is thedressing-bell. Your own old room, Elsie dear: you know the way and willfind Aunt Chloe in waiting. Horace, you will make yourself at home ofcourse."
It was strictly a family party, sociable and informal. Elsie had not metArthur since their return, and at the first moment scarcely recognized himin the moustached and bewhiskered young man who rose and came forward,with a slight limp, to meet her as she entered the drawing-room.
"How do you do?" he said, holding out his right hand, while steadyinghimself with a cane held in the left. "I hope you're glad to get back toAmerica?"
"Arthur, is it? Yes; thank you: and I'm very glad your injuries haveproved less serious than was at first feared," she said, kindly meetinghis advances half-way.
"Oh yes," he replied, with attempted nonchalance, "I shall be all right byand by."
Then retreating to the seat from which he had just risen, the corner of asofa by the side of his sister Adelaide, his eye following Elsie as shecrossed the room to pay her respects to her grandfather and others. "Whaton earth you call that girl little for, I can't imagine," he remarked inan undertone; "why she's quite above the average height; graceful as ayoung fawn, too; splendid figure, and actually the most beautiful face Iever saw. I don't wonder she turned the heads of lords and dukes on theother side of the water. But what _do_ you call her little for?"
"I hardly know, Art; with me it's a term of endearment more than anythingelse, I believe," replied his sister; "but there is something in theexpression of her face--something that has always been there, a sweetsimplicity and innocence--that moves one to a sort of protecting love asto a little one who has not yet attained sufficient worldly wisdom to takecare of herself."
Old Mr. Dinsmore greeted his lovely granddaughter almost affectionately,holding her hand in his for a moment, and looking from her to her father."Really, she's a girl to be proud of, Horace," he said with a paternalsmile. "But I've no need to tell you that."
"No, she is not bad looking," observed his wife with a slight sneer; "fewgirls would be in such elegant attire; but it surprises me to see that,with all her advantages and opportunities for improvement, she has not yetlost that baby expression she always had. She'll never be half the womanEnna is."
The days were past in which the lady mother had gloried in the fact thatanywhere Enna would have been taken for the elder of the two; and now thecontrast between her faded, fretful face and Elsie's fresh bloom was asore trial to madam's love, and pride in her household pet.
But no one deemed it necessary to reply to the unpleasant remark. Elsieonly smiled up into her father's face as he came forward and stood at herside, and meeting his look of loving content and pride in her, just as shewas, and calling to mind how fully satisfied with her was another, whoseloving approbation was no less precious, turned away with a half-breathedsigh of heartfelt happiness, finished her greetings, and, the dinner-bellringing at that moment, accepted Walter's offered arm to the dining-room.
Arthur was more and more charmed with his niece as he noted the modestease and grace of her manners, both at the table, and afterwards in thedrawing-room; listened to her music--greatly improved under theinstructions of some of the first masters of Europe--and her conversationwith his father and others, in which she almost unconsciously revealedrich stores of varied information gathered from books, the discourse ofthe wise and learned met in her travels, and her own keen yet kindlyobservations of men and things. These, with the elegance of her diction,and the ready play of wit and fancy, made her a fascinating talker.
Contrary to Elsie's expectations, it was decided by the elders of theparty that all should remain to tea.
As the others returned to the drawing-room on leaving the table, she stoleout upon the moonlighted veranda. Gazing wistfully down the avenue, wasshe thinking of one probably even then on his way to the Oaks--thinking ofhim and his disappointment at not finding her here?
"It's a nice night, this," remarked Arthur's voice at her side, "I say,Elsie, suppose we bury the hatchet, you and I."
"I never had any enmity towards you, Arthur," she answered, still gazingstraight before her.
"Well, it's odd if you hadn't; I gave you cause enough, as you did me byyour niggardly refusal to lend me a small sum, on occasions when I washard up. But I'm willing to let by-gones be by-gones, if you are."
"Certainly; I should be glad to forget all that has been unpleasant in thepast."
"You have improved wonderfully since I saw you last: you were a prettygirl then, but now you are without exception the most superbly beautiful,graceful, accomplished, and intelligent woman I ever saw."
"I do not like flattery, Arthur," she answered, turning coldly away.
"Pooh! the truth's never flattery; I declare if we were not so nearlyrelated, I'd marry you myself."
"You forget," she said, half scornfully, "that it takes two to make abargain; three in this case; and two of us would never consent."
"Nonsense! I'd soon manage it by clever courting. A man can always get thewoman he wants if he's only sufficiently determined."
"In that you are mistaken. But why broach so disagreeable a subject, sincewe are so nearly related that the very thought seems almost a sin and acrime?"
"And so you're going to throw yourself away on old Travilla?"
Elsie faced him with flashing eyes. "No; it will be no throwing away ofmyself, nor will I allow him to be spoken of in such disrespectful terms,in my presence."
"Humph!" laughed Arthur. "Well, I've found out how to make you angry, atall events. And I'm free to confess I don't like Travilla, or forgive himall old scores."
Elsie scarcely seemed to hear. A horse was coming at a quiet canter up theavenue. Both the steed and his rider wore a familiar aspect, and the younggirl's heart gave a joyous bound as the latter dismounted, throwing thereins to a servant, and came up the steps into the veranda.
She glided towards him; there was an earnest, tender clasping of hands, aword or two of cordial greeting, and they passed into the house andentered the drawing room.
"Humph! not much sentiment there; act towards each other pretty much asthey always have," said Arthur to himself, taking a cigar from his pocketand lighting it with a match. "I wonder now what's the attraction to herfor an old codger like that," he added watching the smoke as it curledlazily up from the end of his Havana.
There was indeed nothing sentimental in the conduct of Mr. Travilla orElsie: deep, true, heartfelt happiness there was on both sides, but calmand quiet, indulging in little demonstration, except when they were quitealone with each other. There was no secret made of the engagement, and itwas soon known to all their friends and acquaintance. Mr. Travilla hadalways been in the habit of visiting the Oaks daily, and finding himselfvery much at home there; and he continued to come and go as formerly, allwelcoming him with great cordiality, making him, if possible, more one ofthemselves than ever, while there was little change in Elsie's manner,except that all her late reserve had fled, and given place to the old easeand freedom, the sweet, affect
ionate confidences of earlier days.
Mr. Dinsmore's determination to delay the marriage for a year wasdecidedly a keen disappointment to the middle-aged lover, who had alreadyendured so long and patient a waiting for his prize; yet so thankful andjoyous was he that he had at last won her for his own, that, findingremonstrance and entreaties alike unavailing, he presently accepted theconditions with a very good grace, comforting himself with the certaintyof the permanence of her love. Elsie had no coquettish arts, wassimple-hearted, straightforward, and true, as in her childhood, and theirconfidence in each other was unbounded.