Chapter Twenty-first.
"A sweet, heartlifting cheerfulness, Like springtime of the year, Seemed ever on her steps to wait." --Mrs. Hale.
"I should like to have a little chat with you, Milly, my dear," Mr.Dinsmore said pleasantly, looking across the table at her, where shesat behind the tea urn; her accustomed place now in Mrs. Dinsmore'sabsence; "can you give me an hour or two of your company, in thelibrary, this evening?"
"Just as much of it as you may happen to want, uncle," she answeredbrightly.
"Thank you," he said. "I rejoice every day in having you here; it wouldbe extremely dull without you. But I wonder sometimes how you keepup your spirits. Nearly six weeks since Mrs. Dinsmore went away, andnobody in the house, the greater part of the time, but yourself, thehousekeeper and servants."
"It is a little lonely sometimes," she acknowledged, "but I have youat meals and in the evenings, generally, now and then a call from oneof the neighbors, and almost every day I ride over to Ion and spend anhour or two with dear Mrs. Travilla. So with the assistance of books,music and drawing, and writing letters to mother and the rest, I findthe days pass quite rapidly."
"Ah! there is a great deal in being disposed to be contented!" he said,smiling. "You are like your mother in that, too.
"We have not yet succeeded in finding a suitable person to fill MissWorth's place, and that is one reason your aunt gives for lingeringso long at her sister's. The place affords excellent educationaladvantages."
There was a little more desultory chat, and then, having finished theirmeal, they repaired to the library, Mildred not a little curious tolearn what her uncle had to say; for she felt quite certain from hismanner that it was something of unusual importance.
He drew an easy chair to the fire, seated her comfortably therein, thenturning away, paced the floor for some moments in silence, and with anabstracted air and clouded brow.
She watched him furtively, wondering more and more at his evidentdisturbance.
At last, heaving a profound sigh, he seated himself near her,
"You are already acquainted, Mildred, so your Aunt Wealthy informedme," he began, in the tone of one who approaches a very distastefulsubject, "with a certain chapter in my son Horace's history, whichI would be exceedingly glad to bury in forgetfulness; but thatcircumstances have rendered impossible--since the child of that mostimprudent, ill-advised marriage has seen fit to live, and of course herexistence cannot be entirely ignored."
Mildred was growing indignant. Her color heightened and her eyessparkled; though unperceived by him, as his face was half averted.
"Is there anything wrong with her, uncle?" she ventured as he came to apause.
"Wrong with her?" he echoed. "Heaven forbid! It is bad enough as itis. But, indeed, I have never taken the trouble to ask. In fact, Ibelieve I half unconsciously hoped she might never cross my path. But,"and again he sighed, "that is past. A letter received this morningfrom Louisiana, brings news of the death of her guardian--that is,you understand, the man who was left guardian to her mother and theproperty; which, by the way, is very large."
Mildred began to listen with eager interest. She had wished very muchto see Horace's child; could it be that that wish was to be gratified?
"The child heirs it all," Mr. Dinsmore went on. "The mother married anddied under age, and by the conditions of the will the property remainedin Mr. Cameron's care; the child also, Horace not caring to remove her.Now, however, the responsibility all falls upon me, in his absence.I must look after both estate and heiress. It involves an immediatejourney to Louisiana, probably a stay of some weeks, to get matterssettled.
"And I must bring the child home with me, as of course leaving herthere with servants only is not to be thought of, and, in fact, I knowof no other home for her; for being a mere babe she cannot be sent toboarding-school.
"I anticipate some complaint from Mrs. Dinsmore; she will not like it,I know, but it really cannot be helped, and need not add to her caresin the least."
"Poor little motherless thing!" sighed Mildred softly, and as Mr.Dinsmore gave her a hasty glance he saw that her eyes were full oftears.
"It is a pity about her," he said. "Strange that she was destined tosurvive her mother; it would really have been so much more comfortablefor all parties if she had not."
"It does seem as though it might have been a happy thing for her,"Mildred answered drily.
But he did not notice the tone. Turning to her with a smile, "How wouldyou like to go with me to Louisiana?" he asked.
Her face grew radiant with delight at the bare suggestion. "O, uncle!how delightful! But it would be a very expensive journey, wouldn't it?"and her countenance fell.
"That would be my concern, since I invite you," he said, laughing andplayfully tapping her cheek. "Where did you learn to be so careful andeconomical? Don't trouble yourself about expense. I shall consider thepleasure of your company cheaply purchased at the cost of settling allthe bills. Now will you go?"
"Yes, indeed, and thank you a thousand times! if--"
"If what? father and mother give consent? There's no time to ask it, asI leave day after to-morrow; but I am sure it would not be withheld. Sowe'll do as we please first and ask permission afterward."
"Yes," Mildred responded, after a moment's musing, "I feel convincedthat they would be very glad to have me accept your kind, generousoffer; for it is such an opportunity as I am not likely to meet withagain."
The remainder of the evening was devoted to the writing of a long,bright and cheery letter to her mother, telling of the pleasantprospect before her, and promising that the home circle should sharein the enjoyments of her trip so far as descriptions of scenery andadventures, written in her best style, could enable them to do.
Mildred's letters had come to be considered a very great treat inthat little community, their reception looked forward to with eageranticipation. The enjoyment would be doubled when they told of scenesnew and fascinating, and of Cousin Horace's little girl, in whom theyalready felt so deep an interest.
Mildred had enjoyed her visit to Roselands but since the death ofMiss Worth the atmosphere of the house had seemed somewhat lonely anddepressing. So she was very glad of her uncle's invitation; whichpromised a change in every way delightful.
The journey was tedious and wearisome in those days, compared to whatit would be now--staging across the country to the nearest point onthe Mississippi, thence by steamboat to New Orleans, where theyremained several weeks, Mr. Dinsmore being engaged in making necessaryarrangements in regard to that portion of little Elsie's inheritancewhich lay in the Crescent City; then on to Viamede.
It pleased Mildred that this part of their trip was to be all the wayby water, and after they entered Teche Bayou it seemed to her like apassage through fairy land, so bright were the skies, so balmy thebreezes, so rich and varied was the scenery; swamps, forest, plain,gliding by in rapid succession, the eye roving over the richestvegetation; resting now upon some cool, shady dell gayly carpeted withflowers, now on a lawn covered with velvet-like grass of emerald green,and nobly shaded by magnificent oaks and magnolias, now catching sightof a lordly villa peeping through its groves of orange trees, and anonof a tall white sugar house, or a long row of cabins, the homes of thelaborers.
It was a new region of country to Mr. Dinsmore as well as herself, andhe remarked that he considered the sight of it a sufficient recompenseof itself for the trouble and expense of the journey.
"But beside that," he added, "I have had the satisfaction of learningthat the estate is even much larger than I supposed. That Scotchmanwas faithful to his trust; very shrewd, too, in making investments,and his death gives Horace control, during the child's minority, of aprincely income."
"Then you do not regret his marriage so much as you did?" Mildred saidinquiringly.
"I do not say that," was the cold, almost stern reply; and she said nomore.