Mildred at Roselands

by Martha Finley

  Chapter Nineteenth.

  "A lovely being, scarcely formed or molded, A rose with all its sweetest leaves yet folded." --Byron.

  On the veranda of a lordly mansion over-looking a velvety lawn ofemerald green, spangled with flowers and dotted here and there withgiant oaks, magnolias and orange trees, between which might be caughtthe silvery gleam of the bright waters of a lakelet beyond, a youngchild, a lovely little girl of four, was sporting with her nurse:tossing to and fro a many-colored ball with many a sweet baby laugh andshout.

  Presently it flew over the railing and rolled away among the flowers inthe grass.

  "Let's go get it, mammy," said the little one, hurrying down the steps;"let' stoss it on the lawn."

  "Wait, honey," returned the nurse, following her. "Ki! let ole mammyhol' you up to see what's comin' down dar on de wattah."

  "Oh, the boat, the boat!" shouted the child, as Aunt Chloe lifted herto her shoulder. "Will it stop, mammy? Is uncle comin' on it?"

  "Dunno, darlin'; 'spect he is," Aunt Chloe answered moving on acrossthe lawn in the direction of the little pier where the boat was alreadyrounding to. "Ki! yes, dar he am, standin' on de deck."

  The child clapped her pretty hands with a cry of delight. "I see him!I see him! Please go on, mammy. Now let me down. I want to run to meethim."

  A man was stepping ashore, gentlemanly in dress and appearance,of medium height, rather stoutly built, sandy hair and whiskers,plentifully sprinkled with grey, a grave, thoughtful face, with sternmouth, but kindly grey eyes.

  At sight of the fairy little figure bounding toward him, he set downa valise he carried, stooped and held out his arms, the stern lipsrelaxing into a smile, the grey eyes twinkling.

  In an instant she was clinging about his neck, the rosebud mouthpressing sweet kisses on his lips.

  "Well, my bonny bairn, are you glad to see your old uncle come home?"he asked, fondling her for a moment; then setting her on her feet andtaking her hand, he walked on toward the house, Aunt Chloe and a negroboy with the valise, following.

  A pleasant-faced matron, in a neat muslin dress and cap, met them onthe veranda.

  "Welcome home, sir, Mr. Cameron," she said shaking hands with him."Your room's a' ready, and tea will be on the table in ten minutes.Elsie, my bonnie pet, will ye no stay wi' me while uncle changes hislinen?"

  "Yes, Mrs. Murray, wis you and mammy," the child answered, withcheerful acquiescence. "Uncle won't go 'way to-morrow nor nex' day'cause he said so."

  The child's meals were usually taken alone in the nursery, earlierhours than those preferred by the older people better suiting hertender years; but to-night she took tea with her guardian and Mr.Murray, Mrs. Murray sitting opposite him and presiding over the teaurn, Elsie between them at his right hand; while Aunt Chloe stood atthe back of her chair, ready to give instant attention to every wantand wish.

  The evenings were cool enough to make an open wood fire very agreeable,and a fine one blazed and crackled on the hearth in the library,whither Mr. Cameron bent his steps on leaving the table.

  He had scarcely taken possession of an easy chair beside it, when Elsiecrept to his side and claimed a seat on his knee.

  "Poor bit fatherless bairn!" he muttered, as he took her up. "Some folkare, as the good book says, 'without natural affection.'"

  "Why, uncle, I's dot a papa, hasn't I?" she asked, catching in anunderstanding way only the first half of his remark; "Mrs. Murray tellsme 'bout him sometimes."

  "Yes; so you have," he said, "but he isn't here to take care of hislittle lassie, you know."

  "I wis' he was! I wis' he'd come dus' now!

  "And my mamma in heaven where Jesus is," she prattled on, "my sweet,pretty mamma," and pulling at a gold chain about her neck, she drewout from the bosom of her gown a miniature set in gold and diamonds, alikeness of a very beautiful young girl.

  "Dear mamma, sweet, pretty mamma!" she repeated, fondly kissing thepictured face.

  "Let me look at it, Elsie," he said, as she was about to return it toits hiding place.

  "The bonniest face I ever saw," he mused half aloud, gazing intentlyupon it. "Woe's me that the sods of the valley should ha' covered itfrom sight sae soon! Was I wrong! Eh, how could I know that she caredso much for that wild youth? I thought it was the gowd he was after,and I think so still."

  But he heaved a profound remorseful sigh, as he relinquished theminiature to its rightful owner.

  As he did so he caught sight of Aunt Chloe standing near, her darkeyes fixed on him with an expression of keenest sorrow, mingled withreproach.

  "She blames me," he thought uneasily. "Well, well, I meant it all forthe best."

  "Aunt Chloe," he said, speaking aloud, "bring me a parcel you'll findon my dressing-table."

  She left the room, and presently returned bringing what he had sent herfor.

  "Something for you, Elsie," he said, laying it in her lap.

  It was loosely wrapped in brown paper which she quickly unfolded withher small white fingers, bringing to light a large, beautiful andhandsomely-dressed doll.

  "Oh, oh! see, mammy, see!" she cried in delight; "such a big dolly!biggest of all I's dot!"

  Then she thanked the giver with kisses and smiles and sweet wordsof baby gratitude; for she was a child of most grateful and lovingdisposition.

  Mrs. Murray must be called in to see and admire the new treasure;then with it hugged closely in her arms, the delighted darling badegood-night and suffered her mammy to lead her away to bed.

  "What a bonny wean it is! One canna think well o' the father thatneglects it," remarked Mr. Cameron, as the tiny, fairy-like figuredisappeared through the doorway.

  "It's unaccountable, and whiles makes me hae grave doubts of thereality of his love for the mother," said the housekeeper. "But if oncehe got sight o' the bairn it would surely be different. Who could seethe bit winsome thing and not love her dearly? Can ye no manage to gethim here by hook or by crook, Mr. Cameron?"

  "I cannot say that I'm over anxious," he answered drily. "He's toofiery and hot-headed a youth to deal comfortably with; besides he'saway in Europe."

  "Ah! when will he return?"

  "Indeed, Mrs. Murray, I got no hint o' that, except that his stay waslikely to be lengthy."

  She had brought in her accounts of household expenditures for the pastmonth, and some time was spent in going over them and conversing ofvarious business matters.

  "Mr. Cameron," she said, as the interview was about to close, "life andhealth are both uncertain wi' us all. In case onything should happen toyou, sir, what--"

  "I will give you the address of my solicitor, and o' the bairn'sgrandfather," he said, without waiting for the conclusion of hersentence; and turning to his writing desk he wrote both on a card,which he handed to her, saying, "It would be advisable for you, or theoverseer to send them both word immediately if aught occur to depriveme of the ability to attend to the affairs o' the estate and thewelfare o' the bit lassie."

  Scarce a week had elapsed when Mrs. Murray found reason to be thankfulfor this act of prudent foresight. Mr. Cameron was taken suddenlyand violently ill, soon became delirious, and after a few days ofsuffering, breathed his last, without an interval in which he couldhave attended to business, however important.

  As soon as it was known that the illness was likely to terminatefatally, letters were dispatched to the addresses given.

  The lawyer living no further away than New Orleans, was able to reachViamede in time for the funeral; but it would take weeks for the letterto Mr. Dinsmore to wend its way to Roselands.

  Little Elsie saw nothing of her guardian after he was taken sick; shewas not shown the corpse, and during the funeral her nurse had her awayin a distant part of the grounds.

  "She's too young to be saddened wi' thoughts o' death and the grave,"said Mrs. Murray; "we'll just tell her, when she asks for her uncle,that he's gone to the beautiful heaven where the Saviour is; and hersweet, prett
y mamma, too. And she'll hae only pleasant thoughts aboutit, the darling pet!"

  The good woman had a very strong, motherly affection for the lovelylittle one, and was more concerned in regard to the possible, not tosay probable, separation from her, consequent upon Mr. Cameron's death,than with any other question touching her own earthly future. She didnot know what disposal would be made of the child, but was resolved notto endure separation if it could be avoided, even by a considerablepecuniary sacrifice.

  The lawyer could tell her nothing except that the child's father wouldnow assume entire control of both her person and property.

  "Then," she said with the tears stealing down her cheeks, "I fear wemay have to part; but I will ever comfort myself with the thought thatGod reigns and the mon's heart is in His hand as the rivers of water;so that He can turn it whithersoever He will."

  "You seem strongly attached to her," remarked the lawyer. "Well, she'sa pretty little creature and a great heiress; the estate was largeat the time of the grandfather's death, and has flourished under myfriend Cameron's care; his investments were always judicious. In facthe couldn't have handled the funds more wisely and carefully if it hadbeen his own. Mr. Dinsmore has been sent for, you say?"

  "The grandfather, sir; the father's away in Europe."

  "Ah! rather unfortunate, I fear. Well, Mrs. Murray, I have finished thebusiness that brought me here, and shall leave by the next boat; whichpasses, I understand, half an hour from this," he concluded, consultinghis watch.

  "Yes," she said; "but you will first step into the dining-room and takesome refreshment, will you not, sir? It is quite ready."

  He accepted the invitation, and while sipping his tea, said, "I shallsee Mr. Dinsmore in New Orleans; he will doubtless call upon me therebefore coming on to Viamede, and you may depend, Mrs. Murray, that ifI have any influence it will be exerted in favor of the plan of leavingthe little girl in your care."

  "I thank you, sir," she said. "I love the sweet bairn as I loved myown, now all gone before to the heavenly rest, and perhaps, as theyhae never seemed to care to trouble wi' her, they may be willing tocontinue her in my charge."

  Mrs. Murray was by no means the only one at Viamede who dreaded thechanges that might come as an indirect consequence of the death ofElsie's guardian; there were many anxious hearts among the older andmore intelligent of the servants. Would the little mistress, whom theyfairly idolized, be carried away from them? Would there be a change ofoverseers? Would any of them be sold away from home and kindred?

  Work had been suspended on account of the funeral. It was over, andreturning to their accustomed haunts about the mansion and the quarter,they collected in little groups here and there, looking sadly into eachother's faces, talking in subdued tones, with many a dubious shake ofthe head, and not a few tears dropped to the memory of the fair youngcreature who had left them four years agone to lie down beside herparents in the family burial ground on a grassy slope not far away.

  Ah, could they but have kept her! so sweet, so gentle, so kind.

  Presently Aunt Chloe and her young charge, taking the quarter ontheir way to the mansion, appeared among them, the baby girl lookingwondrously like to her whom they mourned; the same fair, oval face,large, lustrous brown eyes, golden brown hair and sunny smile.

  They gathered about her with honeyed words of endearments, kissing thesmall white hands, the golden ringlets, even the hem of her richlyembroidered white dress; she scattering gracious winsome words andsmiles like a little queen among her loyal subjects.

  It was truly the homage of the heart, for scarce one of them would havehesitated to risk life and limb in her service.

  She dispensed her favors with great impartiality, and was borne to thehouse on the shoulders of several of these ardent admirers, each takinghis turn in carrying her part of the way, that all might share in theprivilege; since the loving little heart would not favor one to therejection of the others.

  It was just as Mr. Coonly, the solicitor, was about taking hisdeparture that the baby girl was thus borne in triumph to the veranda,and set down there all flushed and rosy and crowing with delight.

  "Nice ride, Uncle Ben, and all you other uncles," she said, kissing herhand to them, "Mammy will get you some cakes."

  "She's a beautiful child!" exclaimed the solicitor in an aside to Mrs.Murray.

  "Yes, sir; and a dear bairn, sweet and good as she is fair."

  "Will you give me a good-bye kiss, my little dear?" he asked, steppingtoward her.

  "Yes," she said, holding up her rosebud mouth. "But I don't know you.Did you come to see my uncle? Where is he?"

  He gave her a puzzled look, then saying, "I haven't time to tell younow, my little girl," hurried away.

  She looked after him for a moment, then turning to Mrs. Murray,repeated her question.

  "Gone away, darling," was the answer. "Now come in and eat your supper;and then we'll have a nice bit talk."