Mildred Keith - Complete 7 Book Collection. Finley Martha

      Chapter Tenth.

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      "There is a Friend that sticketh closer than a brother."

       —Proverbs 18. 24.

      "You found Mrs. Travilla a decided contrast to the other lady," remarked Mrs. Dinsmore, as they drove down the avenue at Ion; "pray, which do you think is right in her religious views?"

      "There is no question in my mind as to which is the more attractive," said Mildred, "or which seems to recommend her religion the most by her looks and ways; yet Mrs. Landreth's self-denial certainly appears commendable, but—oh, I confess that I am really puzzled and must take time to consider."

      "Well, I hope you won't pattern after Mrs. Landreth."

      "No, never!" Mildred exclaimed, with energy. "I know it cannot be right to make home uninviting and cheerless; my mother has taught me better than that, both by precept and example."

      "There is a letter for you, my dear," Mr. Dinsmore said, handing his wife and niece from the carriage.

      "From whom?" she asked, with interest.

      "I have not opened it, but the address is in your sister Delia's hand."

      "Ah! then it is just the one I want."

      At the tea table Mrs. Dinsmore made an announcement.

      "My nieces, Juliet and Reba Marsden, are coming on a visit here. We may expect them to-night or to-morrow."

      "To-night?" said Mr. Dinsmore inquiringly. "They come by the stage, eh?"

      "Yes; it passes at what hour?"

      "Eight; Pomp," to the servant in waiting, "tell Aunt Phœbe to have a hot supper ready at quarter past eight."

      "Young ladies, Aunt?" asked Mildred, looking up with a bright, pleased face.

      "Yes, eighteen and twenty. Company for you, I hope."

      Mildred slipped away to her own room shortly before the time for the arrival of the stage. She had a lesson to prepare, a letter to write, and thought her aunt would want to have her nieces to herself for the first hour or two. Besides Mrs. Dinsmore had expressed an intention to send them to bed betimes, that they might be fresh for the ball which was to come off the next evening.

      On the stairway Mildred met her three cousins, Adelaide, Louise, and Lora.

      "Study hour's just over, and we're going to the drawing-room," they announced. "We've got leave to stay up and see our cousins when they come."

      "That's nice," she answered, "I hope to see them in the morning."

      In the hall above, she passed Miss Worth on her way from the schoolroom to her own apartment. She was struck with the weary and sad expression of her face, and paused for an instant, half inclined to offer her sympathy, and ask if in anything she could be of service.

      But with a slight nod of recognition, the governess glided by, and the next moment Mildred heard her door close, and the key turn in the lock.

      "Poor thing! I dare say she is homesick!" thought Mildred, passing on into her own room, which she found, as usual, very bright and cheery; a good fire, a table with an astral lamp, books and writing materials, drawn up near it, an easy chair on the farther side; the one inviting to work, the other to repose.

      She had completely won Rachel's heart, and the young handmaiden took especial pride and pleasure in arranging everything to "Miss Milly's" liking, and being always ready to wait upon her.

      Mildred sat down at the table and opened her books.

      "Two hours for these and my letter to mother; then to bed and to sleep, that I may be able to rise early and secure the two morning hours for study before seeing those girls at breakfast," was the thought in her mind.

      She set herself to her work with determined energy, but in vain; she could not fix her attention. She conned the words again and again but without taking in their meaning. Miss Worth's sad face kept coming between her and the printed page.

      "She is very lonely, she needs a friend, a comforter," whispered the inward voice.

      "But she might consider me an intruder, trying to pry into her private affairs, forcing a friendship upon her which she has never sought—and she so much older than I," was the answering thought. "And she is only a governess. Aunt Belle evidently considers her quite beneath her friendship, and might be displeased if I put her on an equality with myself."

      But Mildred blushed to find herself influenced by such a motive. She too might be a governess some day and she would be none the less a lady; it was an honorable and useful calling; and it ought to be considered far more creditable to earn one's bread thus than to be willing to live upon the labor of others.

      "No," she exclaimed half aloud, closing her book and pushing it from her, "that shall not hinder me! but ought I to go?"

      Dropping her face into her hands, she sent up a silent petition. "Lord, show me! I desire to acknowledge thee in all my ways, and I know thou wilt fulfill thy gracious promise to direct my paths."

      Then she tried to put herself in Miss Worth's place. How utterly lonely the poor governess was among them all! among, and yet not of them. Mrs. Dinsmore would as soon have thought of sympathizing with an automaton as with any of the human creatures employed in her service. Her domestics were comfortably fed and clothed; Miss Worth's liberal salary was always punctually paid; and what more could any of them ask?

      As Mildred mentally reviewed the events of the past weeks she realized as never before how entirely apart from them all this one member of the family circle had been—her presence ignored in their familiar chat—except when it related in some way to her duties—her wishes, taste, convenience never consulted, no interest taken in her welfare, no inquiries regarding her health or happiness or as to whether her letters—usually handed to her at the breakfast-table when the others received theirs—brought good news or ill.

      Ah, now it came to Mildred's recollection that that morning's mail brought a letter for Miss Worth; and had she not looked a little paler than her wont at dinner? and were there not traces of tears about her eyes?

      Her hesitation was at an end. She was quite sure that if bad news had come to her she would be glad to have the sympathy of even a child, or a dumb animal; and only waiting to ask for wisdom to do and say the right thing, she rose and went out into the hall.

      The stage had just driven up to the door, and the sounds coming from below told of the arrival of the expected guests, gay, girlish voices mingling with those of her aunt, uncle and cousins.

      She lingered a moment thinking how pleasant it would be should those girls prove congenial companions to her, then going to Miss Worth's door she tapped lightly on it.

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