Elsies Womanhood | Page 9

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