Mildred Keith - Complete 7 Book Collection. Finley Martha

      Chapter Sixth.

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      "O'er the glad water of the dark, blue sea."

       —Byron.

      It was Mildred's first sight of the ocean. The November air was chill but the sun shone brightly, and well wrapped up, she found the deck not an uncomfortable place; so kept her station there all through the passage down the river and bay; though Mrs. Dinsmore very soon retreated, shivering, to the cabin, and called in nurses and children; with exception of Adelaide, who insisted upon remaining with her father and cousin, and was, as usual, allowed to have her own way.

      "There, we have a full view of old ocean," Mr. Dinsmore said, as they steamed out of the bay. "You never saw anything like that before, Mildred?"

      "Yes; the great lakes look very similar," she answered, gazing away over the restless waters, her eyes kindling with enthusiasm. "How grandly beautiful it is! I think I should never weary of the sight and should like to live where I could watch it day by day in all its moods."

      "Roselands is not so very far off from the coast," said Adelaide. "A ride of a few miles in one direction gives us a distant view."

      "Oh, I am glad of that!" Mildred exclaimed.

      "And we will place a pony and servant at your command, so that you can ride in that direction whenever you will," added Mr. Dinsmore.

      Mildred took her eyes from the sea long enough to give him a look of delight that fully repaid him; nor did she spare words, but told him he was wonderfully kind to her.

      "Tell about being on the lakes, cousin," pleaded Adelaide. "When was it and who was with you?"

      There had been a little homesickness tugging at Mildred's heartstrings, and that last question brought the tears to her eyes and a tremble to her lips. She had a short struggle with herself before she could so command her voice as to speak quite steadily.

      But when she had once begun it was not difficult to go on and give a circumstantial account of their journey to Indiana: especially as Adelaide proved a delighted and deeply interested listener.

      "Thank you," she said, when the story had come to an end. "But do tell me more about your brothers and sisters—everything you can think of. What a lot of them there is! I think Cyril and Don must be comical little fellows."

      "Yes; and very provokingly mischievous at times," Mildred said, laughing at the recollection of some of their pranks, which she went on to describe for Adelaide's entertainment.

      But the sun had set and the air was so cold that they were compelled to seek the shelter of the cabin.

      They found warmth and brightness there. Mrs. Dinsmore was half reclining on a sofa, her husband reading the evening paper by her side.

      "Well, I'm glad you've come in at last," she said, with a reproachful look directed at Mildred. "It was really very thoughtless to keep Adelaide out so late."

      "She didn't keep me, mamma," answered the child with spirit. "I could have come in any minute if I had chosen. I was not even asked to stay."

      "Don't be pert, Adelaide," said her mother. "Dear me, how the vessel begins to rock! I shall be deathly sick before morning."

      "That would have been less likely to happen if you had followed Mildred's example in staying on deck as long as possible," remarked her husband, turning his paper and beginning another article.

      "I should have caught my death of cold," she retorted snappishly, "but perhaps you wouldn't have cared if I had. And I think it's quite insulting to have a chit of a girl like that held up to me as an example."

      Mildred had walked away and did not hear this last remark. Adelaide had slipped her hand into Mildred's, and was saying, "I like you, cousin. We'll be good friends, shan't we?"

      "It shall not be my fault if we're not," Mildred said, forcing a smile; for Mrs. Dinsmore's fault-finding had hurt her feelings and caused a decided increase of the homesickness. But determined to overcome it she gathered the children about her at a safe distance from their mother, and told them stories till interrupted by the summons to the tea table.

      They had a rather rough sea that night and the next day, causing a good deal of sickness among the passengers. Mildred, taught by past experience, fought bravely against it seeking the deck soon after sunrise and spending almost the whole day there in company with her uncle.

      The second day she experienced no difficulty and was joined by her cousins; but Mrs. Dinsmore kept her berth to the end of the voyage, and when the vessel arrived in port, came from her stateroom pale, weak and disconsolate.

      The last stage of the journey was made in carriages.

      They reached Roselands just as the sun was setting amid a mass of crimson, gold and amber-colored clouds forming a gorgeous background to a landscape of more than ordinary beauty.

      "Oh, how lovely!" exclaimed Mildred, as her uncle handed her from the carriage. "I was prepared to be charmed with the place, but it exceeds my expectations."

      "Let me bid you welcome and hope that first impressions may prove lasting, your stay here most enjoyable," he said, with a gratified smile.

      But now Mildred's attention was taken up by the reception that had been prepared for them:—just such an one as she had often heard described by her mother.

      The plantation was large; the dwelling also; and a dozen or more of house servants headed by the housekeeper, who was a very respectable white woman, had ranged themselves in a double row across the veranda, and down the wide entrance hall.

      Their faces were full of delight, their hands held out in joyous greeting, glad words of welcome on every tongue, as master, mistress, guest, and children, with their attendants, passed slowly between the ranks, shaking hands and making kind inquiries right and left.

      Some of the older ones remembered Mildred's mother, and our heroine's heart warmed toward them as they sounded "Miss Marcia's" praises, and averred that her daughter bore a striking resemblance to her in looks.

      "Mrs. Brown, this young lady is my niece," said Mr. Dinsmore, laying a hand on Mildred's shoulder, and addressing himself to the housekeeper, "and I commend her to your special care. Please see that she is well waited upon, and wants for nothing that house or plantation can supply. Here, Rachel," to a young mulatto girl, "I appoint you Miss Mildred's waiting maid; you are to be always at her call, and do whatever she directs."

      "Yes, massa," the girl answered, dropping a deep courtesy first to him, then to Mildred whom she regarded with a look of smiling approval, "dis chile berry glad ob de chance. Shall I show de way to yo' room, now, miss?" Mildred gave a smiling assent, and was immediately conducted to a spacious, elegantly furnished apartment, where an open wood fire blazed and crackled, sending around a ruddy light that rendered that of the wax candles in the heavy, highly polished silver candlesticks on the mantel, almost a superfluity.

      Mildred sent a very satisfied, appreciative glance about her, then turning to her young handmaiden, who stood quietly awaiting her orders, asked if there were time to change her dress before tea.

      "Yes, Miss, plenty time. Whar yo' trunks, Miss? Oh! heyah dey come," slipping out of the way of two of the men servants as they entered with Mildred's luggage.

      Mrs. Brown followed close in their rear, bade them unstrap the trunks before leaving, inquired of Mildred if there were anything more she could do for her, and said she hoped she would be very comfortable.

      "Rachel