Author: Martha Finley
Category: Childrens
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Chapter Third.
"How poor a thing is pride!"--Daniel.
The parting was no slight trial to her who went or those who stayedbehind, particularly the loving, tender mother. But both she andMildred bore it bravely, though the heart of the latter almost failedher as she felt the clinging arms of the little ones about her neck,heard their sobs and saw their tears; and again as she found herselfclasped to her father's and then to her mother's breast with many afond caress and lowbreathed word of farewell and affection.
Wallace wrung her hand with a whispered word of passionate entreaty, "OMildred, darling, don't forget me! I'll remember you to the day of mydeath."
The weather was fine, the air crisp, cool and bracing, and when thetown and a few miles of prairie had been left behind, their way ledthrough woods beautiful with all the rich tints of October's mostlavish mood.
Mr. Dinsmore exerted himself to be entertaining and ere long he andMildred were chatting and laughing right merrily.
They took dinner at a farm house newly built on a little clearing inthe forest, finding themselves not daintily served, but supplied withan abundance of good, substantial, well cooked food--bread, butter,coffee, ham and eggs, and two or three kinds of vegetables, with steweddried apple pie for dessert.
After an hour's rest for themselves and horses, they traveled on again,reaching a little town in time to get their supper and night's lodgingat its tavern, where the fare and accommodations were on a par withthose of the farm-house.
They had found the roads rough: those they passed over the next daywere worse still, mostly corduroy, over the rounded logs of which thewheels passed with constant jolting, and where one had been displacedor rotted away, as was occasionally the case, there would be a suddendescent of, first the fore then the hind wheels, with a violent jerkthat nearly, or quite threw them from their seats.
They reached Delphi on the Wabash, where they were to take a steamboat,sore, weary and very glad to make the change.
A night at the Delphi hotel, and the next morning they went aboard theboat which carried them down the Wabash and up the Ohio to Madison;where they landed again and passed part of a day and night. Embarkingonce more in a larger craft, they continued on their way up the Ohio asfar as Portsmouth, whence a stage carried them across the country toLansdale.
Miss Stanhope had not received the letter which should have informedher of their coming. She was sitting alone by the fire, quietlyknitting and thinking, perchance of the dear ones far away in PleasantPlains, when the loud and prolonged "Toot! toot!" of a horn, followedby the roll and rumble of wheels, aroused her from her reverie.
"The evening stage," she said half-aloud, then rose hastily, droppedher knitting, and hurried to the door; for surely it had stopped at hergate.
Yes, there it was; a gentleman had alighted and was handing out a lady,while the guard was at the boot getting out their trunks. She could seeit all plainly by the moonlight, as she threw the door wide open.
"Who can they be?" she asked herself, as she stepped quickly across theporch and down the garden path, to meet and welcome her unexpectedguests.
The next moment Mildred's arms were about her neck and both wereweeping for joy.
"Dear child, this is a glad surprise!" cried Miss Stanhope, strainingthe young girl to her breast. "But where are the rest?"
"Here; I'm the only one, Sister Wealthy," said Mr. Dinsmore, liftinghis hat with one hand, while the other one was held out to her."Haven't you a word of welcome for me?"
"Arthur Dinsmore, my brother-in-law!" she cried, taking the hand andoffering him her lips. "I was never more surprised or delighted!
"Come in, come in, both of you. You must be cold, tired and hungry. Ihope you've come to make a long stay. Simon will carry in the trunks,"she went on rapidly as she seized Mildred's hand and led the way to thehouse, half beside herself with the sudden delight of seeing them.
She had many questions to ask, but the comfort of the weary travelerswas the first thing to be attended to. She removed Mildred's wraps withher own hands, rejoicing over her the while as a mother might over alost child restored, and would have done the same by Mr. Dinsmore ifhe had waited for her.
She soon had each cosily seated in a comfortable armchair beside theblazing fire, Simon kindling fires in the spare rooms, and Phillis inthe kitchen, preparing a tempting meal.
"You couldn't be more welcome than you are, brother, or you Mildred, mydear child," she said, coming back from overseeing all these matters,"but you might have fared rather better, perhaps, if you had sent meword that you were coming."
"I wrote from Pleasant Plains," he answered. "The letter has beeneither lost or delayed in the mails."
"Ah well, we won't fret about it," she responded cheerily. "I at leastam far too happy to fret about anything," she added, feasting her eyesupon Mildred's face.
"Dear child, you are worn and thin!" she exclaimed presently, her eyesfilling, "that nursing was far too hard for you. How I wish I couldhave saved you from some of it! But you have come to stay all winterwith me and have a good rest, haven't you?"
"No, no, she belongs to me for the winter," interposed Mr. Dinsmore,before Mildred could open her lips to reply. "If you want her company,Sister Wealthy, you must even make up your mind to be our guest also.What is to hinder you from shutting up your house and going with us toRoselands? I am sure I need not say that we would be delighted to haveyou do so."
"You are very kind, brother," she said, giving him an affectionatelook, "but there are reasons why it would not do for me to leave homefor so long a visit. Where is Horace? My dear sister Eva's son. I wishhe had come with you. Poor boy!" and she sighed deeply.
A slight frown gathered on Mr. Dinsmore's brow at that. "He is hardlya subject for pity," he remarked, "he has just sailed for Europe withpleasant prospects before him and in apparently excellent spirits."
He looked fixedly at her, then glanced at Mildred, and taking the hint,she dropped the subject for that time.
She was at no loss for topics of conversation, so eager was she tolearn all that could be told her in regard to the dear ones Mildredhad left behind. Also she felt a lively interest in the family atRoselands, though they were not actually related to her, being thechildren of the present Mrs. Dinsmore, who was the second wife andsuccessor to Horace's mother.
But finding herself alone with Mr. Dinsmore the next day, Miss Stanhopesaid, "You tell me Horace has gone to Europe? Will he be long absent?"
"It is quite uncertain," he answered carelessly, "he may prolong hisstay to a year or more."
"He has his child with him, I hope."
"His child!"
Mr. Dinsmore seemed much annoyed.
"Certainly not," he said after a moment's disturbed pause; "whatcould he do with her? But I really hoped you knew nothing about thatridiculous affair. Pray how did you learn it?"
"Horace told Marcia and requested her to write the particulars to me,"Aunt Wealthy answered meekly. "And she is still with her guardian--poorlittle dear?"
"Yes, and will be I trust for years to come. That mad escapade ofHorace's--for I can call his hasty, ill-timed, imprudent marriage byno other name--has been to me a source of untold mortification andannoyance."
"It was not a bad match except on account of their extreme youth?" MissStanhope said in a tone between assertion and inquiry.
"I consider it so most decidedly," he returned, his eyes kindlingwith anger. "Elsie Grayson, the daughter of a man who, though wealthy,has made all his money by trade, was no fit match for my son, and Iconsider it a fortunate thing that she did not live: it would havebeen, in my estimation, still more fortunate if her child had died withher."
Miss Stanhope was shocked.
"O Arthur, how can you!" she exclaimed, tears starting to her eyes,"how can you feel so toward your own little granddaughter; a poormotherless baby too! Truly pride must be a great hardener of the heart."
"Old Grayson's grandchild," he muttered, rising to pace the
floor in ahasty excited manner. "Please oblige me by not mentioning this subjectagain," he said: "it is exceedingly unpleasant to me."
Miss Stanhope sighed inwardly.
"Arthur," she said, "Pride goeth before destruction, and an haughtyspirit before a fall."
She did not broach the subject again during the remainder of his briefstay with her.
"I am going out for a look at your town," he said, taking up his hat."I hope," turning back at the door, with his hand on the knob, "thatMildred has heard nothing of this affair?" he remarked inquiringly.
"She knows all that I do, I believe," Miss Stanhope answered quietly."It seemed to be Horace's wish that she should be told."
Mr. Dinsmore went out with a groan, and Mildred coming in at thatinstant by another door, heard, and inquired somewhat anxiously, of heraunt, what was the matter.
Miss Stanhope thought it best to tell her and advise avoidance of anyallusion to Horace's wife or child, when in her uncle's presence;unless he should himself take the initiative.
Mildred promised to be careful, "Though why he should feel so I cannotunderstand," she added, "I, for my part, feel the greatest interest inthat little child, and regret exceedingly that I shall not see her. ButCousin Horace's feelings toward her are more inexplicable still. Howcan he help loving his own little baby girl, who seems to have no oneelse to love and cherish her except the servants!"
It was now an hour since they had left the breakfast table: MissStanhope's morning duties connected with the care of the household,had been attended to, Phillis and Simon had received their orders forthe day, and the good lady might conscientiously indulge herself andMildred in the lengthened chat both had been longing for ever since thearrival of the latter the previous night.
Of course the first and most absorbingly interesting topic was the homecircle at Pleasant Plains. That thoroughly discussed, they passed onto friends and neighbors both there and here, each finding numerousquestions to ask the other, and many a bit of news to give.
"What has become of poor Mrs. Osborne and Frank?" Mildred inquired.
"Ah, she has gone home at last, and is forever done with pain andsickness," Miss Stanhope answered. "It was hard for Frank, but ablessed release to her--poor dear woman! It was three weeks ago shewent, and a week after Frank came to bid me good-bye. He's going towork his way through college, he told me, and make his mark in theworld. And, Milly, my dear," she added with a slightly mischievoussmile, "he hinted pretty broadly that when his laurels were won theywould be laid at the feet of a certain young girl of my acquaintance;if I thought there might be some faint hope that she would not deem itpresumption."
"And what did you answer to that, Aunt Wealthy;" queried Mildred, withheightened color and a look of mingled vexation and amusement. "He issuch a mere boy!" she added, "I never thought of him as anything else."
"Of course not; nor did I. But he is a good, true, noble fellow,bright and intelligent above the ordinary, and very modest andunassuming with it all. He will make a fine man."
"Yes; I think so too, and if he happens to fancy one of my youngersisters, I'll consent with all my heart, and do what I can to furtherhis suit."
Aunt Wealthy shook her head and smiled. "It's not what he wants now;but who knows? Time does work wonderful changes now and then."
Mildred's thoughts seemed to have wandered away from the subject; shewas silent for a moment; then suddenly asked, "Aunt Wealthy, do youknow what sort of person--Dear me, what am I to call her? Mrs. or AuntDinsmore? What would you do about it?"
"I should ask her what title she preferred, and act accordingly. No; Ihave never met her, and know very little about her, except that she isnot a pious woman."
"And uncle?"
"Is not a Christian either," Miss Stanhope said sorrowfully, as Mildredpaused, leaving her sentence unfinished; "believes nothing morenecessary to secure salvation than an honest, upright, moral life. Mydear child, you are going into an atmosphere of worldliness, and willneed to watch and pray, keeping close to the Master. Ah! what joy thatwe need never be any farther away from him in one place than another!"
"Yes, that was what mother said," murmured Mildred, tears filling hereyes at the thought of the many miles now lying between her and thatloved parent and friend; "she promised to pray daily for me that Imight be kept from the evil, and you will do so, too, Aunt Wealthy,will you not?"
"Indeed I will, dear child," was the earnest response.