CHAPTER X.
“MAMMA,” said Rosie, following her mother out to the veranda whenprayers were over, “if you approve I will go up at once and dress forthe day, getting Walter to do the same. It won’t take us long; then I’dlike to drive over immediately to Woodburn and coax Brother Levis tolet us all begin lessons at once, that we may get through and off tothe Oaks sooner than we would otherwise.”
“Very well, my child, I will order the carriage; for I think it wouldbe the better plan for you to drive over, as the roads are dusty,” wasthe indulgent reply.
“Yes,” said Walter, who had followed and was now close behind them,“I like that plan, for walking one would have to take either the verydusty road or the wet grass; and I’d like to get through lessons asearly as possible, too. So I’m off to dress,” and away he ran, Rosiefollowing. Just then the telephone bell rang, and Rosie hastening tothe instrument found that Captain Raymond was calling from Woodburnto say that his pupils there had requested permission to begin schoolduties half an hour earlier than usual, that so they might be ready thesooner to drive over to the Oaks; that he had given consent, and wouldgrant the same privilege to Rosie and Walter, if such was their desire,and they would come immediately.
“Thank you, sir. We will be there in a few minutes,” returned Rosie,then ran away to hurry through her preparations, while her mother tookher place at the telephone to send a message to Violet, to the effectthat she and their Cousin Mary might be expected at Woodburn about teno’clock to make a short call, after which they would go on to the Oaks,taking her and her little ones with them if that arrangement suited herconvenience.
“Thank you, mother dear,” came back in Violet’s own sweet tones, “Ishall be glad to see both you and Cousin Mary, and you will find me andmy babies ready to accept your kind invitation.”
Rosie and Walter made haste with their toilets, were presently in thecarriage, and reached Woodburn just in season to take part in theopening school exercises.
All went prosperously that morning; the lessons had been thoroughlyprepared, the recitations were so good that the captain felt entitledto bestow unstinted praise, and his pupils were dismissed from theschool-room in gayest spirits.
“How very quiet the house seems!” exclaimed Lulu as they passed intothe hall.
“Yes,” said her father; “Cousin Ronald, your mamma, and the little oneshave gone on to the Oaks, and now we will follow them as soon as youare all ready. Our large family carriage is in waiting; it will hold usall nicely.”
They had only to put on their hats and gather up a few little thingsthey wanted to take with them, and they drove away, a merry, laughing,jovial little party, so full of fun and frolic that time passed veryquickly, and all were surprised when they found the carriage turning inat the great gates opening upon the beautiful grounds of the place thathad been Elsie’s home in her girlhood’s days.
The chat and laughter suddenly ceased, and all eyes turned upon thelovely scenes through which they were passing. They were not entirelynew to any of them, and only comparatively so to Marian, as she hadalready been there several times.
They were almost the last to arrive of all the large company of invitedguests, and as they neared the mansion there could be seen, here andthere on the lawn and in the shaded alleys, groups of grown people andof children, some sitting in the shade of the trees, others saunteringabout or playing merry, romping games, while filling the air with theirshouts and gleeful laughter.
A cordial welcome was given the captain and his pupils, who quicklymade themselves at home in the grounds, scattering here and there amongother guests, according to inclination or convenience.
The captain, having exchanged greetings with his host, hostess, andother friends and relatives, glanced about in search of his wife.
“You are looking for Vi, captain?” Grandma Elsie said inquiringly andwith a smile. “She is engaged in piloting Cousin Mary about, showingher the places made memorable by having been the scenes of notableevents in her mother’s life when this was her own and her father’shome. I believe they have gone down to what is still called Elsie’sarbor.”
“Ah?” he returned, “and my companionship would hardly be welcome justat present, I presume.”
“I cannot say, sir, but see no reason why it should not be,” sheanswered, and thanking her, he at once set off in the direction of thearbor, which was of course no unknown spot to him.
He found the ladies there, sitting together, gazing out upon thelovely landscape—the verdant valley, the clear waters of the swiftlyflowing river, and the woods clad in the deep green of their summerrobes. Violet was speaking in low, feeling tones, Mary listeningevidently with intense interest. Violet had been telling of scenes andoccurrences described in “Elsie’s girlhood”—the time when Arthur, in afury of passion because she refused to advance him money without herfather’s knowledge and consent, even went so far as to strike her, andwas immediately soundly thrashed for it by Mr. Travilla; the time whenJackson, her discarded lover, discarded at first in obedience to herfather’s command, afterward loathed by her when she had learned forherself that he was a villain of deepest dye instead of the honorable,virtuous man she had formerly esteemed him, came so unexpectedly uponher there, sitting alone and undefended, and with a loaded pistolthreatened her life unless she would promise never to marry Mr.Travilla; but now Violet’s theme was her father’s confession of hislove, and her mother’s glad surprise—the sweet story told to her bythat mother herself since the dear father’s death.
“Mamma told it to me after I had heard the same sweet story fromthe lips of my own dear husband,” were the words that reached thecaptain’s ear as he stepped into the arbor, and as she turned at thesound their eyes met with a look of love as ardent and intense as anyever bestowed by either one upon the other: they were as truly loversnow as they had been five years before.
“Excuse me, ladies,” he said with a bow and smile, “I do not wish tointrude, and will go away at once if my company is not desired.”
“It is no intrusion, I am sure,” was the reply of Miss Keith, whileViolet said with a look of pleasure: “We are only too glad to have youwith us, my dear. You have come in the nick of time, for I have justfinished my story, which, though new to cousin, would have been old toyou.”
She made room for him by her side as she spoke. He took the offeredseat, and they talked for a little of the lovely grounds and the beautyof the view from that point; then rose and walked back to the house,conversing as they went.
Violet led the way to the grassy lawn upon which opened the glass doorsof what had been in former years her mother’s sitting-room, and throughthem into the room itself.
“This and the dressing and bed rooms beyond were mamma’s apartmentswhile living here,” she said, “and loving his eldest sister as hedoes, Uncle Horace has kept them furnished all these years almostprecisely as they were when she occupied them.”
“I should think he would,” said Mary Keith, sending keenly interestedand admiring glances from side to side; “it is all so lovely that Ishould not want to change a single thing, even if I did not care tokeep them just so in remembrance of her, as I certainly should.”
Mr. Horace Dinsmore, Jr., came in at that instant.
“Ah, Vi,” he said, “so you are showing your mother’s old rooms toCousin Mary. That is right. I spent many a happy hour here with thatdear sister when I was but a little fellow, for, as I presume you know,she is twelve years older than I.
“Ah, how well I remember the heartache it gave me when I was told ofher approaching marriage, and that she would then leave our home forMr. Travilla’s at Ion. I could scarce forgive him for robbing me of mysister. In fact I refused my consent, but to my surprise and chagrinfound that it made no difference.”
He led the way into the dressing-room. “This,” he said, “is where Ifound her standing in her beautiful bridal robes, as the hour drew nearwhen she was to be given to Travilla. Oh, how beautiful she was! Ican see he
r yet—the lovely, blushing, smiling face, the shining hairadorned with orange-blossoms, and the slender, graceful figure halfconcealed by the folds of rich white satin and a cloud of mist-likelace. I remember exclaiming, ‘You look like an angel, only withoutthe wings!’ and how I wanted to hug her, but had been forbidden lestI should spoil or disarrange some of her finery; and what a heartacheI had at the thought that she was never to be the same to me again—soentirely our own—as she had been before. She called me to come and kissher, and oh, what a strong effort it cost to refrain from giving theforbidden hug! but she promised me an opportunity to give it before shewent; and the promise was remembered and kept.”
“Did you not hug papa instead, Uncle Horace?” queried Violet between asmile and a tear, for she was thinking of that dear parent as gone fromamong them never to return.
“Yes,” he said, “he kindly invited me to use him as a substitute for mysister, which I did heartily, for he was a great favorite with me, inspite of his robbing me of her.”
“In which room of the house was Cousin Elsie married?” asked Mary.
“Come and I will show you, pointing out the precise spot where shestood during the ceremony,” replied Mr. Dinsmore, leading the way, theothers willingly following.
He redeemed his promise, gave a description of the adornment of therooms on that memorable occasion, of the grounds also, and ended withthe bride’s farewell to relatives and near and dear friends, especiallyher almost idolized father.
“Yes,” said Violet, “mamma has always loved grandpa so very, verydearly, and his love for her is, I believe, quite as great. Ah, uncle,let us take cousin to the hall and show her the niche from which mammaonce fell when quite a little girl.”
“And I a baby boy,” he returned with a smile as he led the way; “butit was not from a niche she fell, Vi, but from a chair on the edge ofwhich she stood, trying to reach up to hide a toy mouse behind thestatue there. The chair slipped from under her; to save herself fromfalling she caught wildly at the legs of the statue, and she and itcame down together with a crash upon the marble floor. There is theniche,” pointing it out, for they had reached the hall while he spoke;“the figure occupying it now is one purchased to replace that broken byits fall with sister at that time.”
“Did it fall on her? and was she badly hurt?” asked Miss Keith,shuddering slightly as she spoke.
“No,” replied Mr. Dinsmore, “not quite upon her, but so nearly that shehad a very narrow escape from being crushed by it; she was stunned andbruised, but that was all, and she was able to join in the sports ofthe next day.”[A]
“Mary, that was in the winter which your aunts Mildred and Annis spenthere,” remarked Violet. “I suppose you have heard something of that?”
“Yes, I think I have,” said Miss Keith. “Cousin Percy and you, CousinHorace, were babes at that time, were you not? I think you said amoment since.”
“I have been told that we were,” Mr. Dinsmore replied with a smile.“Now I think I have shown you about all the places in the house thatare interesting from being connected with events in my sister’s life.Most of our friends are at present on the verandas or the lawn; shallwe go out and join them?”
A prompt assent was given and he led the way. All the invited guestsseemed to have arrived; even Dr. Conly, who had been somewhat delayedby professional duties, was there surrounded by the young people, whowere all fond of him as both relative and physician. Calhoun, theDinsmore girls, Evelyn Leland, Marian McAlpine, Lulu Raymond, Haroldand Herbert Travilla formed another group; but Calhoun, on seeing MaryKeith approaching, left the others, advanced to meet her, and afterexchanging with her a pleasant “Good-morning,” invited her to a strollthrough the grounds, adding, “I presume you have hardly seen every partof them yet?”
“No,” she replied, as they sauntered on together, and went on to tellto what parts Violet had taken her.
“Ah,” he said, “I am glad the pleasure of showing the rest was left forme. It is a fine old place, and being a near relative of the owners Ihave seen much of it.”
“Yes, and I have been told that Roselands also is a fine old place,”she returned; “and was not it Cousin Elsie’s home at one time?”
“Yes; for several years before her father bought this place and fittedit up for a home for himself and her.”
“I think it was there she was so very ill while still quite a littlegirl?”
“Yes; that was before my time, but when you visit us there, as I hopeto have the pleasure of seeing you do next week, I will show you theroom she occupied; no—I am forgetting that the house standing therethen was afterward burned down; but it was rebuilt, that part of itbeing an exact reproduction of those rooms in the old house.”
“Burned down, did you say? How did that happen?”
“It was during the war,” he replied. “As I remember Roselands on myfirst sight of it, it was a most desolate place—only the ruins of ahouse there, the ground ploughed up by cannon, the grand old trees allcut down, the lawn changed to a muddy field, the gardens a desert,neither fences, hedgerows, nor shrubbery left, the fields overgrownwith weeds—all the result of that dreadful civil war for which I nowsee there was no cause but the curse of slavery.
“But,” he continued, his voice taking on a more cheerful tone, “manyyears have passed since then; our dear Cousin Elsie furnished thenecessary means for repairing damages so far as money could do it,the passing years have helped, and Roselands again deserves its name;in the eyes of its owners at least it is again a beautiful place, thefields are fertile and scarce anything is left that reminds us of itsformer desolation.”
“I am very glad indeed to hear that,” returned Mary, “and shall greatlyenjoy seeing it in its renewed beauty. This place it would seemescaped better than Roselands?”
“Far better; indeed had, I believe, suffered only from some years ofneglect. It was quite habitable; so uncle kindly gave us all shelterhere for a time—that is, until Roselands was ready to receive us.”
“That was very kind,” responded Mary.
“It was indeed,” said Calhoun. “I cannot tell you how strongly I amattached to uncle, Aunt Rose, Cousin Elsie, and indeed the wholefamily.”
Just then a turn in the walk brought them face to face with anothersmall party of young people—the Dinsmore girls, Rosie Travilla, Croly,Harold, and Herbert.
“So here you are!” exclaimed Harold. “We were looking for you and wantto take you back near the house. We are to have a small lunch of cakeand lemonade handed about to us on the lawn, Aunt Sue says; after thatsome games to make the time pass pleasantly until the dinner-hour.”
“With such inducements held out would it not be well to go with them,Miss Keith?” queried Calhoun.
“Perhaps so,” she returned laughingly; “since I heard the lemonadementioned I have discovered that I am somewhat thirsty.”
“And I own that the announcement has had the same effect upon me,” hesaid.
“Then come,” said Herbert, leading the way by turning into anothershaded alley; “we will reach our destination sooner by this path.”
The day passed most pleasantly to all, the greater part of it spent insports in the open air; a grand dinner, served in the large dining-roomof the mansion, taking up an hour or more; then a time of rest andquiet talk underneath the trees or on the verandas; after that moregames, followed by a light tea handed the guests where they were, andsoon after a pleasant ride or drive homeward.
FOOTNOTE:
[A] See “Mildred’s Married Life.”
Elsie at Ion Page 10
