Elsie at Home

"Now, Aunt Adelaide, after that you will do well to take care not to fall ill and get into the doctor's hands," laughed Marian.

"My dear," said the doctor, "can you suppose I object to having my wife praised? or my son, even at his father's expense?"

"No, I know you do not," she returned. "I verily believe you would sacrifice everything for him except his mother."

"Did he let you take part in any of the games?" asked Adelaide.

"Oh, I didn't ask to!" said Marian. "I have grown so lazy that I thought it more fun to watch the others."

"Captain Raymond and Violet seem to be enjoying tennis as much as any of the rest," remarked Mrs. Dinsmore, who was watching the game with keen interest.

"Yes," said Dr. Conly, "all – old and young – seem very happy and interested in their various sports; and I think are gaining health and strength from the vigorous exercise in this pure air."

Most of the company were engaged in games of one kind or another, but some few were wandering about in the alleys of the garden or wood, or sitting on the grass or some rustic bench, chatting sociably, as cousins and connections might be expected to do. Dr. Dick Percival and Maud Dinsmore were among the latter. They had had a game of tennis and were now refreshing themselves with a saunter through the wood.

"I admire this place – Woodburn," said Maud. "Captain Raymond has, I think, made a sort of earthly paradise of it; though for that matter one might say pretty much the same of The Oaks, Ion, and several of the other family estates."

"Yes; including those down in Louisiana," returned Dick – "Viamede, Magnolia Hall, and a few others. By the way, you have never been down there, have you?"

"No, never; but I am hoping that Cousin Elsie will invite me one of these days."

"Suppose you don't wait for that, but accept an invitation from me," suggested Dick, giving her a very lover-like look and smile.

"From you?" she exclaimed, her tone expressing surprise and a little bewilderment, "are you staying there?"

"At Viamede? No, not now. I have bought a plantation not very far from there, and am trying to make it equal in beauty to Viamede. It will, of course, take some time to accomplish that; but, to me, Torriswood seems even now a very winsome place. And if I had my cousin Maud installed there, as mistress, I should be one of the happiest of men."

"Oh! you want me to become your housekeeper?"

"Yes; housekeeper, homekeeper, heartkeeper – everything! Oh, Maud darling! can't you understand that I love you and want you for my wife, my best, nearest, and dearest friend, my heart's idol? I love you in a way that I never loved anyone else. Can't you love me in the same way – as something nearer and dearer than a mere cousin?"

Maud was blushing, trembling – wholly taken by surprise and hardly knowing whether to be glad or sorry. "Oh, Dick! how can you?" she stammered. "We are cousins, you know, and – and cousins ought not to – to marry. I have often heard Cousin Arthur say so."

"Not first cousins, nor second, but we are neither; we are far enough removed to be entirely safe so far as that is concerned. So dearest, you need not hesitate on that account, if you feel that you can love me well enough to be happy as my wife. Can you? If you cannot now, I may be able to teach you to by clever courting. But I need a wife – I do indeed; and I don't know how to wait. Don't make me wait. Can't you give me your love – at least a little of it?"

"Oh, Dick! do you really care so much for me and my love – really love me in that way?" she asked low and tremulously, her eyes full of happy tears. "I never thought of such a thing before; but – but I do believe I can – I do love you better than any other of my cousins; better than – than anybody else in the world."

"Ah! dearest, you have made me very, very happy," he said joyously; "happier than I ever was in my life before, and I shall go home far richer than I came."

As he spoke he drew her to a rustic seat in a nook so concealed by the trees and shrubbery and the winding of the path that they were entirely hidden from view, and, putting an arm about her he held her close with silent caresses that seemed very sweet to her; for she had been an orphan for years, and often hungry for love greater than that of brother or sister.

"Maud, dear," he said presently, "we have given ourselves to each other, and why should we delay the final step? I do not want to go back to my home alone; will you not go with me? It would make me the happiest of men."

"But – but you are going very soon, I understood – in a few days."

"Yes; it would hardly do for me to wait longer than that; but what is the use of waiting? We know each other now as thoroughly as we ever can till we live together as man and wife."

"But I should have no time to prepare my wardrobe – "

"It is good enough, and can be easily added to when you are Mrs. Percival," he said with a low, gleeful laugh. "I am ready to take you, my darling, if you were without a single change of raiment. I do not think you know it, dearest, but I am no longer the poor relation I used to be. I have had a large practise, worked hard, and made some very fortunate investments, so that I can truly say that I am a fairly wealthy man. Ah, do give yourself into my keeping at once. I am heartily tired of my lonely bachelor life, and it will be great joy to me if I can go back, not to it, but to that of a happy married man. How a dear little wife – such as my cousin Maud would make – would brighten and make cheery that lonely home. Can you find it in your heart to refuse me the favour I ask, sweet one?"

"I do not like to refuse you anything, dear Dick," she returned; "but it is all so sudden and unexpected; do let me have a little time to think it over and – and consult my friends and yours."

"Ah, well! I will try to wait patiently," he sighed; "wait, hoping you will grant my request."

"Oh, Dick, dear Dick! I really do feel like doing anything in the world that I can to make you happy. I will do whatever you wish, no matter what other people may say. Only," she added, as if with sudden recollection, "I suppose we must ask Uncle Dinsmore's consent."

"Yes; but I have no fear that it will be withheld. He and I are no strangers to each other; he is my uncle, too, you know, and was my guardian while I was young enough to need one. I think he will be pleased that we are going into partnership, – you and I, – and will agree with me that the sooner we begin the better."

"Provided that allows me time to get properly ready," she supplemented with an arch look and smile.

"What preparation do you need?" he asked. "I am more than willing to take you just as you are. You look perfectly charming in that dress, and, for a wedding dress, the one you wore as bridesmaid to Cousin Rosie seems to me entirely suitable. Indeed, my darling, you look bewitchingly pretty in any and every thing you put on."

"Oh, you flatterer!" she laughed. "I can't expect other people to see with your eyes; but, after all, the principal thing is to please you. That will be my business for the rest of my life, I suppose," she added, giving him a look of ardent affection.

"And mine to please you, dearest. Shall we not follow Rosie's good example in making no secret of our engagement; at least so far as our own people here assembled are concerned? Will you let me take you back to the house now and introduce you there as my promised wife?"

"Do just as you please about it, Cousin Dick," she said. "You are older and wiser than I."

"I certainly am older," he said laughingly as they rose, and he gave her his arm; "but if I am wiser in some respects, you doubtless are in some others. Perhaps we will find out all about that when we get to housekeeping together."

Mr. Dinsmore had joined the group on the veranda. Mr. Lilburn and Annis, Captain Raymond and Violet were there, too, and some others of the married people, among them Mr. Horace Dinsmore, Jr., of The Oaks, and his wife, as Dick and Maud came up the steps together. He led her directly to his uncle.

"We have come for your blessing, sir, Cousin Maud and I," he said in clear, distinct tones. "Will you give her to me? She is willing that you should, and I promise to do all in my power to provide for her and make her happy."

"Why, children, this is a surprise – but a pleasant one," exclaimed Mr. Dinsmore. "Yes, I give you my blessing and wish you many happy years together."

Then the others crowded about with exclamations of surprise and pleasure, congratulations, good wishes, and questions. "How long had they been lovers?" "Did they expect to marry very soon?"

"Yes, almost immediately," Dick answered to that last. "What was there to wait for? They were old enough to know their own minds, he was well able to support a wife, and had a home ready for her. It needed some improvements to be sure, but they could be made all the better with Maud there to give her opinion and advice."

"But she must have time to prepare her trousseau," said young Mrs. Dinsmore.

"I have just been coaxing her out of that notion," laughed Dick, regarding his promised wife with admiring eyes. "I want her, and the wedding finery can be attended to somewhat later. I don't think anything could be prettier or more becoming than the dress she wore at Cousin Rosie's wedding, and why can't she be married in that?"

"Why, it would do, I suppose!" exclaimed Mrs. Dinsmore. "It is very pretty and becoming, and, with a bridal veil added, would make a suitable and handsome wedding dress."

"A wedding dress? Who is going to be married now?" cried a girlish voice, and Sydney and Walter were seen coming up the steps. All turned at the sound of her voice, and Dick answered:

"Your sister and I, Cousin Syd. Are you willing to take me for a brother?"

"You!" she exclaimed, "you, Cousin Dick? Why, I never dreamed of such a thing! But I have no objection; no, not the least in the world – except that you'll be taking my sister away from me; I don't like that at all."

"No, Coz, that is altogether a mistake," Dick hastened to say. "I don't want to separate you and Maud, and you have only to come along with us to escape that. You will find plenty of room and a warm welcome at Torriswood."

"Thank you," she said; "but it's so sudden I can't realise it at all yet. When did you make up your minds to get married?"

"Half an hour ago, perhaps; I forgot to look at my watch to take exact note of the time."

"Oh! is that the way you do when you are taking note of a patient's pulse, or the time for administering a dose of medicine?"

But Dick was saved the trouble of replying, as relatives, older and younger, came crowding up to learn what was going on.

Chester and Frank were as much surprised as Sydney had been, but by no means displeased. They liked Dick as a cousin and had no objection to accepting him as a brother-in-law. The newly affianced had no frowns or objections to meet; everybody seemed pleased and interested, and the only queries were as to when and where the marriage should take place.

"It should be at The Oaks, of course," said young Mr. Dinsmore. "That is her home, and has been for years."

"And it was there mamma was married," said Violet, "and Maud might stand in the very same place."

"Yes, I should be glad to have her do so," said Mrs. Travilla; "and she and Dick need ask nothing more than that their marriage may prove as happy a one as mine."

"Yes, Cousin Elsie, I agree with you in that," said Maud. "I will be married at The Oaks, if Dick is satisfied to have it so."

"Entirely," he said; "and now it remains only to fix upon the day and hour."

That question seemed more difficult to settle than the other; but Dick finally had his way, and the morning of the day on which he was to start for the far South was fixed upon as the time for the ceremony. The other relatives from a distance would delay their departure long enough to be present, the older Mr. Cyril Keith was chosen as the officiating minister, and everyone seemed satisfied with all the arrangements.

CHAPTER XVI

It had been a very enjoyable, but an exciting day; the little ones were weary with their sports, and all the guests, except those who were making Woodburn their temporary home, departed shortly after an early tea, and directly after the evening service of prayer and praise the ladies of the family retired to their rooms. At length Captains Raymond and Keith found themselves alone together upon the veranda.

"Raymond," said the younger man, breaking a pause in their talk, "I have a great favour to ask of you."

"Ah! what is it, Keith? Surely you do not need to be told that it would give me pleasure to do you any favour in my power."

"Ah, I fear you hardly realise how much you are promising. Do you remember the talk we had some years ago at West Point?"

"Yes; but do you remember that the subject was not to be referred to – at least the question you asked not to be repeated – for six years, and that it is now only five?"

"Yes; but one year cannot make much difference, and it is highly probable that I may not be able to get here next year. Am I asking too much in begging you to let me speak now – before I go? Understand I am not asking leave to take her – your beautiful, charming daughter – away from you now, but only to tell the story of my love; for it has come to that, that I am deeply in love with her; only to tell the story and try to win a return of my affection and a promise that, at some future day, I may claim her for my own."

"I would rather not, Keith; she is only a child," Captain Raymond replied in moved tones. "But since you are so urgent, and are so old and valued a friend, I don't like to refuse you. You may speak to her; but with the clear understanding, remember, that I will on no account allow her to marry for some time to come; I do not want to allow it before she is twenty-four or five."

"Thank you," said Keith heartily; "that will be a long time to wait, but she is well worth waiting for. But do you think I have any reason to hope to win her – that she likes me in the very least?"

"I am certain she has no dislike to you; that she feels kindly toward you as a relative and friend of the family; but I tell you candidly that I am well-nigh convinced that she has never thought of looking upon you as a lover; and it is a great happiness to me to be able to believe that she still loves her father better than any other man living."

"Still it is possible you may be mistaken," Keith rejoined after a moment's discouraged silence, "and since I have your permission, I shall try what clever courting will do for me."

A momentary silence followed, broken by Captain Raymond. "I fear I am a foolish, fond father, Keith. I have a very strong friendship for you, and there is no man to whom I would sooner trust my daughter's happiness, but yet I cannot wish you success in winning her; because, being in the army, you would necessarily take her to a distance from her home and me. But, as I have said, you may try, though with the full understanding that not for some years to come will I resign my custody of her. She is my own dear child, and, in my esteem, still much too young to leave my fostering care and assume the duties and responsibilities of wifehood and motherhood."

"I don't blame you, Raymond, and shall not try to persuade her to go against her father's wishes in regard to the time of assuming the cares and duties you speak of," said Keith, heaving an involuntary sigh at thought of the years of bachelorhood still evidently in store for him. "I only wish I were sure of her even after serving seven years, as Jacob did for Rachel."

"Well, I shall not cheat you as Laban did poor Jacob," returned Captain Raymond pleasantly. "By the way, Cousins Dick and Maud made quick work of their courting, and the marriage is to follow very speedily. In most cases such speedy work would be risky enough, but they know all about each other – at least so far as a couple may before the knot is tied which makes them one flesh. I think very highly of both, and hope it is going to be a most happy marriage."

"I hope it may, indeed," said Keith. "Maud will be hurried with her preparations; more so than most ladies would like, I presume."

"Yes; but really it will be just as well, I think, under all the circumstances. To-morrow we are all to spend one half the day at Roselands, the other at Pine Grove; the next day we go to Beechwood; then Thursday we are to have the wedding at The Oaks, and that night, or the next morning, most of the friends from a distance contemplate starting for their homes."

"Yes, I among the rest," said Keith.

"I need hardly say, for surely you cannot doubt it, that I should be glad to have you remain longer with us if Uncle Sam would permit it," said Captain Raymond with cordial hospitality.

"Thank you," returned Keith, "but that is more than I could expect even were there time to ask it, which there is not." Then, rising, "It strikes me that it is high time to be making ready for bed. Good-night, Raymond, my good friend; sweet sleep and pleasant dreams to you," and, with the last word, he held out his hand.

Captain Raymond grasped it heartily, saying, "Good-night, Keith; I wish you the same. May He who never slumbers nor sleeps have us all in his kind care and keeping."

In the principal event of the past day – the engagement of Dick Percival and Maud Dinsmore – and the talk of other days and events which ensued, Mrs. Elsie Travilla's thoughts had been carried back to the happy time of her own betrothal and marriage to the one whom she had so loved as friend, lover, and husband. She seemed to see him again as he was then, to hear his low breathed words of tenderest affection, and her tears fell fast at the thought that never again in this life should their sweet music fall upon her ear.

But well she knew that the separation was only temporary; that they should meet again in the better land, where sickness, sorrow, and death can never enter, meet never more to part.

She was alone in her boudoir, and, wiping away her tears, she knelt down in prayer, asking for strength to bear patiently and submissively the loss that was at times so grievous, and craving God's blessing upon the young relatives so soon to take upon them the marriage vows. Nor did she forget her own daughter so recently united to the man of her choice, or any other of her dear ones. Her heart swelled with joy and gratitude as she thought of them all, healthy, happy, and in comfortable circumstances; her dear old father and his lovely wife still spared to her, and the dear grandchildren who seemed to renew to her the youthful days of her own children, the fathers and mothers of these.

Her thoughts were still full of motherly and grandmotherly cares and joys as she laid her head upon her pillow and passed into the land of dreams.

When she awoke again it was to find the sun shining and the air full of the breath of flowers and the morning songs of the little birds in the tree tops just beyond her windows. She rose and knelt beside her bed, while her heart sent up its song of gratitude and praise, its petitions for grace and strength according to her day, asking the same for her dear ones also, and that she and they might be kept from accident, folly, and sin.

As she made her toilet her thoughts again referred to Maud and her present needs, which could not well be supplied for lack of time.

"Can I not help the dear girl in some way?" she asked herself.

Then a sudden thought came to her and she hastened to a large closet, unlocked a trunk standing there, and took from it a package carefully wrapped in a large towel. Carrying it to a sofa in her boudoir she unpinned it and brought to light a dress of richest white satin, having an overskirt of point lace, and, beside it, a veil of the same costly material.

"As beautiful as ever," she sighed softly to herself. "And the dress would, I think, fit Maud, with little or no alteration. It would be something of a trial to part with them permanently, but surely I can spare them to Maud for a few hours. It would give her pleasure, for she would look lovely in them, and every woman wants to look her very best at her bridal."

But the breakfast bell was ringing, and, putting them carefully back in the trunk and relocking it, she hastened down to the dining room.

There were a number of guests in the house, among them the Emburys of Magnolia Hall, and, naturally, the talk at the table ran principally upon the approaching marriage of Molly's brother, Dr. Percival.

"I am much pleased," she said; "Maud will make a dear little sister for me, and I hope will find me a good and kind one to her. And if Sydney goes along she will be about as good as another. Perhaps Bob and she will get up another match, and then she will be my sister. I wish Bob could have come along with the rest of us."

"Yes, I wish he could," said Mrs. Travilla. "He must take his turn at another time, leaving Dick to look after the patients."

"I think Maud feels a trifle disappointed that she has no time to get up a grand wedding dress," Molly ran on, "but the one she wore as Rosie's bridesmaid is very pretty and becoming. Still it is not white; and I heard her say that she had always been determined to be married in white, if she married at all."

"Oh, well," said Mr. Embury, "the getting married is the chief thing, and, after it is all over, it won't matter much whether it was done in white or some other colour. I presume most folks would think it better to be married even in black than not at all."

"I think that depends very much upon what sort of husband one gets," laughed Zoe. "I got married without any bridal finery; but it was a very fortunate thing for me after all," giving her husband a proudly affectionate glance.

"Yes," he said with a smile, "and I wouldn't exchange the wife I got in that way for the most exquisitely attired bride in Christendom."

Mrs. Travilla kept her own counsel in regard to her plans for Maud's relief, until breakfast and family worship were over; but then invited Molly to her boudoir, brought out the dress and veil she had been looking at, and disclosed her plan for Maud.

Molly was delighted.

"Oh, cousin, how good in you!" she cried. "I think Maud will be wild with joy to be so nicely brought out of her difficulty. For the dress is splendid, and, as you say, hardly out of the present fashion in its make-up. And the veil is just too lovely for anything! Fully as handsome as Rosie's was, and I thought it the very handsomest I had ever seen."

"Then I shall telephone at once to The Oaks," Mrs. Travilla said, and, passing out and down to the hall below, she did so. Calling for Maud, she asked her to come over to Ion at once as she wished to consult her on an important matter requiring prompt decision; but she would not detain her long.

Much wondering, Maud replied that she would be there in a few minutes; the carriage being at the door, and Mr. Dinsmore offering to drive her over immediately.

Mrs. Travilla gave orders to a servant that on Miss Dinsmore's arrival she should be brought directly to her boudoir; Mr. Dinsmore might come also, if he wished; and presently both appeared.

They were warmly greeted by Mrs. Travilla and Mrs. Embury, who was still with her.

"I have something to show you, Maud, and an offer to make," Elsie said with a smile, leading the young girl forward and pointing to the dress and veil disposed about an easy-chair in a way to exhibit them in all their beauty.

"Oh!" cried Maud, "how lovely! how lovely! I never saw them before. Whose were they? Where did they come from, Cousin Elsie?"

"I wore them when – when I was married," Elsie answered in low, sad tones; "they have not been used since, but I will lend them to you, dear Maud, if you would like to use them for your bridal."

"Oh, Cousin Elsie! wouldn't I? How good, how good in you! I am too hurried to buy anything, and that lace is far beyond my purse if I had any amount of time."

"Then I am glad I thought of offering you the use of these. But now I think it would be well for you to try on the dress and see what – if any – alteration it needs. We will go into my dressing room, and I will be your tire-woman," she added, gathering up the dress as she spoke, while Mrs. Embury took the veil.

The three passed into the dressing room, leaving Mr. Dinsmore sole occupant of the boudoir, he taking up a book to amuse himself with while they were gone.