MARTHA FINLEY Ultimate Collection – 35+ Novels in One Volume (Including The Complete Elsie Dinsmore Series & Mildred Keith Collection). Finley Martha
the saddle.
"He will not be here till evening, sir," she answered, the rose on her cheek 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 a line with that of her father's larger Steed, as they followed the winding carriage 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 company to-day, are you not? I wished to go, and you kindly arranged to accompany me."
"Ah! and that is how you look at it? Well, I recall my rebuke, and thank you for your—what shall I say—pretty compliment, or appreciation of my society?"
"Both, if you like. Oh, how nice it is to be at home again in our own dear native land."
"And what do you call your own dear native land?"
"What a strange question, papa! The great, grand old Union to be sure—North and South, East and West—is it not all mine? Have you not taught me so yourself?"
"Yes," he said musingly.
They rode on in silence for some minutes, and when he spoke again, it was upon a subject entirely foreign to the last.
"The place looks natural," he remarked, as they turned into the avenue leading 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 only permitting 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 and feels that it will be agreeable to her."
A few moments' chat in the drawing-room, and Mr. Dinsmore drew out his watch. "How long a talk do you want with your friend to-day, Elsie?" he asked.
"Oh, just as long as I can be allowed, papa!" she cried, with much of the old childish eagerness.
"Then the sooner you begin, the better, I think, for we ought to be on our way 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 business matters, and Mrs. Carrington led the way for Elsie to Lucy's room. But pausing in the upper hall, she took the young girl in her arms, folding her 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 she released her hold. "Darling, I can never forget that you might have been my daughter. But there—I will leave you. Lucy occupies her old rooms, and yonder is her door; you know the way."
"But come in with me, dear Mrs. Carrington," urged Elsie, the tears shining in her eyes.
"No, dear, not just yet. Lucy would prefer to see you quite alone at first, I know." And she glided away in the opposite direction.
A soft, cooing sound came to Elsie's ear, mingled with fondling words, in a negro voice, as she stood an instant waiting admittance. Lucy, a good deal 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 sight of 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 she calmed 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 little hysterical laugh said, "Please don't look so concerned, or think I'm unhappy with my dear old Phil, or going to die, or any such nonsense: it's just my nerves; hateful, torturing things! I wish I'd never found out I had any."
"You poor dear, I'm so sorry for your lost health," said Elsie, exchanging her chair for a low ottoman at Lucy's feet, and taking the small thin hands in hers, stroking and patting them caressingly; "I know nerves won't be reasoned with, and that tears are often a great relief."
"And I've everything to make me happy," sobbed Lucy—"the best husband in the 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 your father would not allow you to lift or carry little Horace."
"Ah, but that was years ago! Ah, how lovely he is!" as the babe accepted her mute invitation to come to her. "You are rich indeed, with this treasure added to all your others. And you and your Phil don't quarrel yet?"
"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 added something—I can't divine what—that increases even your peerless attractions."
"O Lucy, Lucy, still a flatterer!" laughed her friend.
"Yet you've come back to us single," Lucy went on, ignoring the interruption, "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 away with 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 we have the pleasure of hailing you as duchess yet?"
"No, Lucy; I intend to marry; am actually engaged, but not to a foreigner."
"Dear me! I don't believe I could have resisted the title. That is," she added, hastily, "if I'd been heart-whole like you: but after seeing my Phil, 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 ever consent to such a mixture of relationships? Why, it would make papa my brother 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 my suspense."
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 seemed struck dumb with astonishment. Then, "Elsie!" she exclaimed, "I can't believe 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's most intimate friend from boyhood up; and almost as old."
"Some people seem like wine—to improve with age. But Mr. Travilla is not old to me now. He has been standing still, I believe, while I have grown up 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 come to see me. But—you are your own mistress now, of course."
"Papa tells me so sometimes," laughed Elsie, "and yet I know he would be greatly