The announcement caused a little surprise to most of those present, but everyone seemed pleased; thinking it a suitable match in every way.
"I think you have chosen wisely—both of you," said Grandma Elsie, "and I hope there are many years of happiness in store for you; happiness and usefulness. And, Chester," turning to him, "remember that these doors are wide open to you at all times. Come back when you will and stay as long as you will."
"Thank you, cousin; you are most kindly hospitable," Chester said with a gratified look and smile. "The two places are so near together that I can readily divide my time between them; which—both being so attractive—is certainly very fortunate for me."
"And for all of us," said Violet; "as we shall be able to see more of each other than we could if farther apart."
"Yes; I shall hope and expect to see you all coming in every day," added her mother with hospitable cordiality.
"Thank you, Cousin Elsie," said Maud, "but, though it is delightful to come here, we must not let it be altogether a one-sided affair. Please remember to return our visits whenever you find it convenient and pleasant to do so."
With that they took leave and departed, and a little later those constituting the family for the time bade each other good-night, and most of them retired to their sleeping apartments.
Not quite all of them, however. Max, Evelyn, and Lucilla stepped out upon the veranda again, Max remarking, "The grounds are looking bewitchingly beautiful in the moonlight; suppose we take a little stroll down to the bayou."
"You two go if you like, but I want to have a word or two with papa," said Lucilla, glancing toward her father, who was standing quietly and alone at some little distance, seemingly absorbed in gazing upon the beauties of the landscape.
"Well, we will not be gone long," said Evelyn, as she and Max descended the steps while Lucilla glided softly in her father's direction.
He did not seem aware of her approach until she was close at his side, and laying a hand on his arm, said in her low, sweet tones:
"I have come for my dear father's good-night caresses, and to hear anything he may have to say to his eldest daughter."
"Ah, that is right," he said, turning and putting an arm about her and drawing her into a close embrace. "I hope all goes well with you, dear child. If not, your father is the very one to bring your troubles to."
"Thank you, dear papa," she said; "if I had any troubles I should certainly bring them to you; but I have not. Oh, I do think I am the happiest girl in the land! with your dear love and Chester's too. And Max with us again; and all of us well and in this lovely, lovely place!"
"Yes, we have a great deal to be thankful for," he returned. "But you will miss Chester, now that he has left here for Torriswood."
"Oh, not very much," she said with a happy little laugh; "for he has assured me that he will be here at least a part of every day; the ride or walk from Torriswood being not too long to be taken with pleasure and profit."
"And doubtless some of the time you will be there. By the way, you should give Sidney something handsome as a wedding present. You may consider what would be suitable and likely to please, consult with the other ladies, and let your father know what the decision is—that he may get the article, or supply the means."
"Thank you ever so much, father dear," she replied in grateful tones, "but you have given me such a generous supply of pocket money that I don't think I shall need to call upon you for help about this. But I shall ask your advice about what the gift shall be and be sure not to buy anything of which you do not approve."
"Spoken like my own dear, loving daughter," he said approvingly, and with a slight caress. "By the way, did Robert Johnson's bit of news make my daughter and her lover a trifle jealous that their engagement must be so long a one?"
"Not me, papa; I am entirely willing—yes, very glad—to be subject to your orders; very loath to leave the dear home with you and pass from under your care and protection. Oh, I sometimes feel as if I could never do it. But then I say to myself, 'But I shall always be my dear father's child and we need not—we will not love each other the less because another claims a share of my affection.' Is that not so, papa?"
"Yes, daughter; and I do not believe anything can ever make either one of us love the other less. But it is growing late and about time for my eldest daughter to be seeking her nest, if she wants to be up with the birds in the morning and ready to share a stroll with her father through these beautiful grounds before breakfast."
"Yes, sir; but, if you are willing, I should like to wait for Evelyn.She and Max will be in presently, I think. Papa, I do think they havebegun to be lovers, and I am glad; for I should dearly love to haveEva for a sister."
"And I should not object to having her for a daughter," returned the captain, with a pleased little laugh. "And you are not mistaken, so far as Max is concerned. He asked me to-day if I were willing that he should try to win the dear girl, and I told him most decidedly so; that I heartily wished him success in his wooing. Though, as in your case, I think marriage would better be deferred for a year or two."
"Yes, Max would be quite as much too young for a bridegroom as I for a bride," she said with a slight and amused laugh; "and I don't believe he would disregard his father's advice. All your children love you dearly and have great confidence in your opinion on every subject, father dear."
"As I have in their love and willingness to be guided by me," the captain responded in a tone of gratification. "You may wait for Evelyn. I think she and Max will be in presently. Ah, yes; see they are turning this way now."
Max had given his arm to Evelyn as they left the house, and crossing the lawn together they strolled slowly along the bank of the bayou.
"Oh, such a beautiful night as it is!" exclaimed Evelyn, "and the air is so soft and balmy one can hardly realize that in our more northern homes cold February reigns."
"No," said Max, "and I am glad we are escaping the blustering March winds that will soon be visiting that section. Still, for the year round I prefer that climate to this."
"Yes; but it is very pleasant to be able to go from one section to another as the seasons change," said Eva. "I think we are very fortunate people in being able to do it."
"Yes," returned Max, "but after all one's happiness depends far more upon being in congenial society and with loved ones than upon climate, scenery—or anything else. Eva," and he turned to her as with sudden determination, "I—I think I can never again be happy away from you. I love you and want you for my own. You have said you would like to be my father's daughter, and I can make you that if you will only let me. Say, dearest, oh, say that you will let me—that you will be mine—my own dear little wife."
"Max, oh, Max," she answered in low, trembling tones, "I—I am afraid you don't know me quite as I am—that you would be disappointed—would repent of having said what you have."
"Never, never! if you will only say yes; if you will only promise to be mine—my own love, my own dear little wife." And putting an arm about her he drew her close, pressing an ardent kiss upon her lips.
She did not repulse him, and continuing his endearments and entreaties he at length drew from her an acknowledgment that she returned his love.
Then presently they turned their steps toward the mansion, as happy a pair as could be found in the whole length and breadth of the land.
Captain Raymond and Lucilla were waiting for them, and Max, leading Evelyn to his father, said in joyous tones, "I have won a new daughter for you, father, and a dear sweet wife for myself. At least she has promised to be both to us one of these days."
"Ah, I am well pleased," the captain said, taking Eva's hand in his, and bending down to give her a fatherly caress. "I have always felt that I should like to take her into my family and do a father's part by her."
"Oh, captain, you are very, very kind," returned Eva, low and feelingly; "there is nobody in the wide world whose daughter I should prefer to be."
"And oh, Eva, I shall be so glad to have you really my sister!" exclaimed Lucilla, giving her friend a warm embrace. "Max, you dear fellow, I'm ever so glad and so much obliged to you."
"You needn't to be, sis. Eva is the one deserving of thanks for accepting one so little worthy of her as this sailor brother of yours," returned Max, with a happy laugh.
"Yes, we will give her all the credit," said the captain; "and hope that you, my son, will do your best to prove yourself worthy of the prize you have won. And now, my dears, it is high time we were all retiring to rest; in order that we may have strength and spirits for the duties and pleasures of to-morrow."
Evelyn and Lucilla were sharing a room communicating directly with the one occupied by Grace and little Elsie, and that opened into the one where the captain and Violet slept.
In compliance with the captain's advice the young girls at once retired to their room to seek their couches for the night; but first they indulged in a bit of loving chat.
"Oh, Eva," Lucilla exclaimed, holding her friend in a loving embrace, "I am so glad, so very, very glad that we are to be sisters. And Max I am sure will make you a good, kind husband. He has always been the best and dearest of brothers to me—as well as to Grace and the little ones."
"Yes, I know it," said Evelyn softly. "I know too that your father has always been the best and kindest of husbands and that Max is very much like him."
"And you love Max?"
"How could I help it?" asked Evelyn, blushing as she spoke. "I thought it was as a dear brother I cared for him, till—till he asked me to—to be his wife; but then I knew better. Oh, it was so sweet to learn that he loved me so! and I am so happy! I am not the lonely girl I was this morning—fatherless and motherless and without brother or sister. Oh, I have them all now—except the mother," she added with a slight laugh—"for of course your Mamma Vi is much too young to be that to me."
"Yes; as she is to be a mother to Max, Gracie, and me. But with such a father as ours one could do pretty well without a mother. Don't you think so?"
"Yes; he seems to be father and mother both to those of his children who have lost their mother."
"He is indeed. But now I must obey his last order by getting to bed as quickly as I can."
"I, too," laughed Evelyn; "it seems really delightful to have a father to obey." She ended with a slight sigh, thinking of the dear father who had been so long in the better land.
Lucilla woke at her usual early hour, rose at once, and moving so quietly about as not to disturb Evelyn's slumbers, attended to all the duties of the time, then went softly from the room and down to the front veranda, where she found her father pacing slowly to and fro.
"Ah, daughter," he said, holding out his hand with a welcoming smile, "good-morning. I am glad to see you looking bright and well;" and drawing her into his arms he gave her the usual welcoming caress.
"As I feel, papa," she returned, "and I hope you too are quite well."
"Yes; entirely so. It is a lovely morning and I think we will find a stroll along the bank of the bayou very enjoyable. However, I want you to eat a bit of something first; and here is Aunt Phillis with oranges prepared in the usual way for an early morning lunch," he added as an elderly negress stepped from the doorway bearing a small silver waiter on which was a dish of oranges ready for eating.
"Yes, Massa Captain, and I hopes you, sah, and Miss Lu kin eat what's heah; dere's plenty moah for de res' ob de folks when dey gets out o' dere beds."
"Yes," said the captain, helping Lucilla and himself, "there is always a great abundance of good cheer where your Miss Elsie is at the head of affairs."
"Father," Lucilla said as they set off across the lawn, "I am so pleased that Max and Eva are engaged. I should prefer her for a sister-in-law to anyone else; for I have always loved her dearly since we first met."
"Yes; I can say the same; she is a dear girl, and Max could have done nothing to please me better," was the captain's answering remark.
"And she loves you, father," returned Lucilla, smiling up into his eyes; "which of course seems very strange to me."
"Ah? although I know you to be guilty of the very same thing yourself," he returned with an assured smile and pressing affectionately the hand he held in his.
"Ah, but having been born your child, how can I help it?" she asked with a happy little laugh. Then went on, "Father, I've been thinking how it would do for you to make that house you have been talking of building near your own, big enough for two families—Max's and Eva's, Chester's and mine."
"Perhaps it might do," he answered pleasantly, "but it is hardly necessary to consider the question yet."
"No, sir," she returned. "Oh, I am glad I do not have to leave my sweet home in my father's house for months or maybe years yet. I do so love to be with you that I don't know how I can ever feel willing to leave you; even for Chester, whom I do really love very dearly."
"And I shall find it very hard to have you leave me," he said. "But we expect to be near enough to see almost as much of each other as we do now."
"Yes, papa, that's the pleasant part of it," she said with a joyous look; then went on, "Chester has been talking to me about plans for the house, but I tell him that, as you said just now, it is hardly time to think about them yet."
"There would be no harm in doing so, however," her father said; "no harm in deciding just what you want before work on it is begun. I should like to make it an ideal home for my dear eldest daughter."
"Thank you, father dear," she said. "I do think you are just the kindest father ever anyone had."
"I have no objection to your thinking so," he returned with a pleased smile; then went on to speak of some plans for the building that had occurred to him. "We will examine the plans," he said, "and try to think in what respect each might be improved. I intend my daughter's home to be as convenient, cosey, and comfortable as possible; and you must not hesitate to suggest any improvement that may occur to you."
"Thank you, papa; how good and kind you are to me! Oh, I wish I had been a better daughter to you—never wilful or disobedient."
"Dear child, you are a great comfort to me and have been for years past," he said; then went on speaking of the plans that he had been considering.
In the meantime they had walked some distance along the bank of the bayou, and glancing at his watch the captain said it was time to return, as it was not far from the breakfast hour, and probably they would find most, if not all of the others ready for and awaiting the summons to the table.
Lucilla had scarcely left her sleeping apartment when Eva awoke, and seeing that the sun was shining, arose and made a rapid toilet; careful, though—thinking of Max and his interest in her—that it should be neat and becoming.
She descended the stairs just as the captain and Lucilla were approaching the house on their return from their walk; and Max was waiting on the veranda while most of the other guests had gathered in the nearest parlor. Eva stepped out upon the veranda and Max came swiftly to meet her.
"My darling!" he said, low and tenderly, putting his arm about her and giving her an ardent kiss, "my own promised one. You are lovelier than ever. A treasure far beyond my deserts. But as you have given your dear self to me you are mine; and let this seal our compact," slipping upon her finger, as he spoke, a ring set with a very large and brilliant diamond.
"Oh, how lovely!" she exclaimed, looking at it and then lifting to his face eyes filled with love and joy. "It is very beautiful, dear Max, valuable for that reason, but still more for being the emblem of your dear love—love that makes me the happiest girl in the land."
"As yours makes me the happiest man. Ah, Eva dear, I am not worthy of you."
"Ah," she laughed, "I shall take your opinion on most subjects, but not on that. Here comes your father and Lu."
"Good-morning," they said, coming up the steps, the captain adding in jesting tones, "Ah, Max, my son, you seem to be making an early return to the business begun yesterday."
"And something more, captain," Eva said, displaying his gift. "Is it not lovely?"
"Oh, beautiful!" exclaimed Lucilla.
"As handsome a diamond as ever I saw," remarked the captain, examining it critically; "but none too handsome or expensive for a gift to my new daughter that is to be," he added with a smile, and imprinting a kiss upon the small white hand which wore the ring. "Shall we join the others in the parlor now? and will you let Max tell them of his good fortune? You will neither of you, surely, wish to keep it a secret from friends so near and dear."
"I do not," said Max; "but it shall be just as you decide, Eva dear," he added in low and tender tones, drawing her hand within his arm as he spoke.
"I think your—our father's opinions are always right, Max," she said with a smile and a blush.
"Will you go in first, father? you and Lu—and we will follow," said Max, and the captain at once, taking Lucilla's hand in his, led the way.
"Good-morning to you all, friends and relatives," was his cheerful-toned and smiling address as he entered the room, "I hope you are all well and in good spirits."
Then, stepping aside, he allowed Max to pass him with the blushingEvelyn on his arm.
He led her up to Mrs. Travilla, saying, "Good-morning, Grandma Elsie. I want to introduce to you my future wife. For this dear girl has, to my great joy, promised to become that one of these days."
"Ah! is that so, Max? I know of nothing that could please me better," exclaimed that dear lady, rising to her feet and bestowing a warm embrace upon the blushing, happy-faced Evelyn.
Violet was beside them in an instant, exclaiming in joyous tones, "Oh, Eva and Max! how glad I am! for I am sure you were made for each other, and will be very happy together."
"And are you willing now to let me be the captain's daughter?" askedEva, with a charming blush, accompanied by a slightly roguish laugh.
"Yes; seeing that Max calls me Mamma Vi, and you are really younger than he," was Violet's laughing reply.
But Grace, little Elsie, and the others were crowding around with expressions of surprise and pleasure and many congratulations and good wishes. For everybody who knew them loved both Max and Eva.
But now came the call to breakfast and they repaired to the dining room and gathered about the table, as cheerful and gay a party as could be found in the whole length and breadth of the land.
"You seem likely to have a rapid increase in your family, captain," said Dr. Harold Travilla, with a smiling glance directed toward Lucilla, Max, and Eva, seated near together.
"Some time hence," returned the captain pleasantly. "I consider them all young enough to wait a little, and they are dutifully willing to do as I desire."
"As they certainly should be, considering what a good and kind father you are, sir, and how young they are."
"And how pleasant are the days of courtship," added Mr. Lilburn; "as no doubt they will prove with them."
"And how wise as well as kind our father is," said Max, giving the captain an ardently appreciative look and smile; "how patiently and earnestly he has striven to bring his children up for usefulness and happiness in this world and the next."
"That is true," said Violet. "I think no one ever had a better father than yours, Max."
"And certainly no one had a more appreciative wife or children than I," remarked Captain Raymond, with a smile. "We seem to have formed a mutual admiration society this morning."
"Surely the very best kind of society for families to form among themselves," laughed Herbert.
"And I like the way our young people are pairing off," remarked Mr. Dinsmore; "the matches arranged for among them seem to be very suitable. By the way, Elsie, we must be planning for some wedding gifts for Bob and Sidney."
"Yes, sir," replied Mrs. Travilla, "I have been thinking of that, but have not decided upon any particular article yet. I suppose our better plan will be to buy in New Orleans."
"Yes, I think so. And it will be well for us to have a consultation on the subject, in order to avoid giving duplicates."
"A very good idea, grandpa," said Violet, "and as there are so many of us—counting the Magnolia and Parsonage people, as well as those of Torriswood—might it not be well to have that consultation soon, to determine what each will give, and then set about securing the articles in good season for the wedding, which will probably take place in about three weeks?"
There was a general approval of that idea and it was decided to take prompt measures for carrying it out.
The meal concluded, all gathered in the family parlor and held the usual morning service of prayer, praise, and reading of the Scriptures. That over, they gathered upon the front veranda and were again engaged in discussing the subject of wedding gifts, when Dr. Percival drove up with his wife and her brother. They were most cordially greeted and invited to give their views in regard to the subject which was engaging the thoughts of the others at the moment.
"I think it would be wise for us all to agree as to what each one shall give, so that there will be no duplicates," said Maud.
"Yes," said Violet, "that is the conclusion we have all come to."
"Very good," said Maud. "And Sidney wanted me to consult with you older ladies in regard to the material of her wedding dress—whether it should be silk or satin; and about the veil. They are to be married in the morning, out under the orange trees."
"Oh, that will be lovely," said Violet.
"Yes; I think so; and it will allow plenty of room," continued Maud; "and we need plenty because our two doctors want to invite so many of their patients lest somebody should feel hurt by being left out. Our idea is to have the ceremony about noon and the wedding breakfast on the lawn immediately after it."
"I like that," said Violet. "As to the wedding-dress question—suppose we send to New Orleans for samples, let Sidney choose from them and order the quantity she wants?"
"That strikes me as a very good idea," said Chester; "and I want it distinctly understood that I pay for this wedding dress. I had no opportunity to do a brother's part by Maud at the time of her marriage, but I insist that I shall be allowed to do so by this only remaining sister."
"Yes, Chester, you and I will both insist upon being allowed our rights this time," laughed Dick; "especially as there will be no single sister left to either of us."
"And between you, and with the other relatives to help, Sidney will fare well, I hope and believe," remarked Mr. Dinsmore with a smile.
"Chester," said Lucilla in a low aside, "I want your help in choosing my gift for your sister. I have the greatest confidence in your judgment and taste."
"Thank you, dearest," he returned with a pleased smile. "I shall be very glad to give my opinion for what it is worth."
"I presume you have sent or will promptly send word to Frank that his sister is about to marry?" Mr. Dinsmore remarked in a tone between assertion and inquiry.
"We have written," replied Dick, "but are not at all certain that the letter will reach him in time, as he may have left Florida before it could be received."
"I do not quite despair of getting him here in season," remarked Chester. "I think we will hear of his whereabouts in time to send him a telegram."
Just at that moment the Magnolia carriage was seen coming up the driveway with Mr. and Mrs. Embury in it.
They had come to consult with the Viamede relatives and friends in regard to preparations for the approaching wedding and suitable and desirable gifts for the bride; for Mrs. Embury, being own sister to Dr. Percival and half-sister to Dr. Robert Johnson, felt particularly interested and desirous to do her full share in helping the young couple with their preparations for making a home for themselves.
"Do they intend to go to housekeeping?" she asked of Maud.
"It is hardly decided yet," replied Maud. "We are trying to persuade them that it will be best for us all to continue to be one family. I think that will be the way for a time at least; and when we tire of that we can easily occupy the house as two families. It is large enough and so planned that it can readily be used in that way."
"A very good thing," remarked Mr. Embury. "I think you will be the more likely to agree if you do not feel that you are shut up to the necessity of remaining one family."
"You have hardly sent out your invitations yet?" Molly said half inquiringly.
"Only to the more distant relatives," replied Maud. "Of course we cannot expect that they will all come, but we did not want to neglect any of them."
"We must arrange to accommodate them if they should come," said Molly, "and I hope most of them will. Now about making purchases—of wedding gifts, wedding finery, and so forth. New Orleans will of course be our best place for shopping if we want to see the goods before buying. Does anybody feel inclined to go there and attend to the matter?"
There was silence for a moment. Then Captain Raymond said, "TheDolphinand I are at the service of any one—or any number—who would like to go."
Both Maud and Molly thought themselves too busy with home preparations, and after some discussion it was finally decided that Mrs. Travilla, Violet, and the captain, Eva and Max, Lulu and Chester, Grace and Harold should form the deputation and that they would go the next Monday morning—this being Saturday. That matter settled, the Emburys and Percivals took their departure.
Then a thought seemed to strike Grandma Elsie. "Annis," she said, turning to her cousin, "cannot you and Cousin Ronald go with us? I wish you would."
"Why, yes; if you want us I think we can," laughed Annis, turning an inquiring look upon her husband.
"If you wish it, my dear," he answered pleasantly. "I always enjoy being with the cousins." And so it was decided they would be of the party.
"Now, my daughters, Lucilla and Grace, if you have any preparations to make for your trip to New Orleans, my advice is that you attend to them at once," Captain Raymond said when their callers had gone.
"Yes, sir," they both returned, making prompt movement to obey;Lucilla adding, "though I am sure we have but little to do."
"And what are your directions to me, Captain Raymond? or am I to be left entirely to my own devices?" laughed Violet.
"I think my wife is wise enough to be safely so left," he replied in his usual pleasant tones, and with a look of fond appreciation; "and perhaps might give some advice to my daughters," he added.
"And now I think of it, perhaps it might be well to consult with them in regard to some matters," said Violet, and hurried away after the girls, who had gone up to their sleeping apartments.
"Have not you some preparations to make also, Elsie?" asked Mr.Dinsmore of his daughter.
"Very little," she answered with a smile; "only some packing that my maid can do in a few minutes. Ah, there is someone wanting to speak to me, I think," as an elderly negro came out upon the veranda, bowed to the company in general, then looked toward her with a sort of pleading expression, as if he had a petition to offer.
She rose and went to him, asking in kindly inquiring tone, "What is it, Uncle Joe?"
"Ise come to ax a favor, mistiss," he replied, bowing low. "Ole Aunt Silvy she mighty porely—mos' likely gwine die befo' many days—an' she doan pear to feel pow'ful sure ob de road for to git to de bes' place on de furder side ob de river. She says Miss Elsie knows da way and maybe she come and 'struct her how to find it."
"Indeed I shall be very glad if I can help her to find it," Elsie answered with emotion. "I will go with you at once." Then turning to her son, "Harold," she said, "Uncle Joe reports a woman at the quarter as very ill; will you go down there with me and see if your medical skill can give her any relief?"
"Certainly, mother dear;" replied Harold, hastening to her side; and excusing herself to her guests and taking her son's arm, Mrs. Travilla at once set off for the quarter, Uncle Joe following respectfully at a little distance, ready to point out the cabin where the ailing negress lay.
They found her tossing about on her bed, moaning and groaning. "Oh, mistiss," she cried as they entered, "you's berry good comin' fo' to see dis po' ole darky. I'se pow'ful glad for to see you, mistiss, an' de young massa too. Uncle Joe, set out dat cheer fo' de mistiss and dat oder one for de young massa."
Uncle Joe hastened to do her bidding, while Harold felt her pulse and questioned her in regard to her illness.
She complained of misery in her head, misery in her back, and being "pow'ful weak," finishing up with the query, "Is I gwine die dis day, suh?"
"I think not," he replied, "you may live for weeks or months. But life is very uncertain with us all, and I advise you to promptly make every preparation for death and eternity."
"Dat's what I gwine do when mistiss tell me how," she groaned, with a look of keen distress directed toward Mrs. Travilla.
"I will try to make the way plain to you," that lady returned in compassionate tones. "It is just to come to the Lord Jesus confessing that you are a helpless, undone sinner and asking him to help you—to take away the love of sinning and wash you in his own precious blood. The Bible tells us 'He is able also to save them to the uttermost that come unto God by him.' And he says, 'Him that cometh to me I will in no wise cast out.' So that if you come, truly seeking him with all your heart—desiring to be saved, not only from eternal death but from sin and the love of it—he will hear and save you."
"Won' you pray de good Lawd for dis ole darky, mistiss?" pleaded the woman. "You knows bes' how to say de words, an' dis chile foller you in her heart."
At that Mrs. Travilla knelt beside the bed and offered up an earnest prayer couched in the simplest words, so that the poor ignorant creature on the bed could readily understand and feel it all.
"Dis chile am berry much 'bliged, mistiss," she said, when Mrs. Travilla had resumed her seat by the bedside. "I t'ink de good Lawd hear dat prayer an open de gate ob heaben to ole Silvy when she git dar."
"I hope so indeed," Mrs. Travilla replied. "Put all your trust in Jesus and you will be safe; for he died to save sinners such as you and I. We cannot do anything to save ourselves, but to all who come to him he gives salvation without money and without price. Don't think you can do anything to earn it; it is his free gift."
"But de Lawd's chillens got to be good, mistiss, aint dey?"
"Yes; they are not his children if they do not try to know and do all his holy will. Jesus said, 'If ye love me, keep my commandments.' 'Ye are my friends, if ye do whatsoever I command you.' We have no right to consider ourselves Christians if we do not try earnestly to keep all his commands, and do all his holy will."
Harold had sat there listening quietly to all his mother said and had knelt with her when she prayed. Now, when she paused for a little, he questioned Aunt Silvy about her ailments, gave her directions for taking some medicine, and said he would send it presently from the house. Mrs. Travilla added that she would send some delicacies to tempt the sickly appetite; then with a few more kindly words they left the cabin, bidding Uncle Joe a kindly good-by as they went.
"You do not think Aunt Silvy really a dying woman, Harold?" his mother said in a tone of inquiry, as they walked on together.
"No, mamma; I shall not be surprised if she lives for years yet," Harold answered cheerily. "No doubt she is suffering, but I think medicine, rest, and suitable food will relieve her and she will probably be about again in a week or two. But preparation for death and eternity can do her no harm."
"No, certainly; to become truly a Christian must add to the happiness—as well as safety—of anyone."
"And you have brought that happiness to many a one, my dear mother," Harold said, giving her a tenderly affectionate look. "How often in thinking of you I recall those words of the prophet Daniel, 'And they that be wise shall shine as the brightness of the firmament; and they that turn many to righteousness, as the stars for ever and ever.'"
"'Tis a precious promise," she said with emotion. "Oh, my son, make it the business of your life to do that; to help to the healing of souls—the immortal part—even more than that of the frail bodies which must soon die."
"Yes, mother," he said with emotion, "I do try constantly to do that; and it is a great comfort and help to me to know that my dear mother is often asking for me help from on high."
"Yes," she said; "without that none of us could accomplish anything in the way of winning souls for Christ; and every Christian should feel that that is his principal work. This life is so short and the never-ending ages of eternity are so long. 'Whatsoever thy hand findeth to do, do it with thy might; for there is no work nor device, nor knowledge, nor wisdom in the grave whither thou goest.'"
They walked on in silence for a little, then Harold remarked that the air was delightful and a little more extended walk might prove beneficial to them both.
"Yes," replied his mother, "let us take a stroll through the orange orchard; the sight and perfume of the fruit and blossoms are delightful."
"Yes, indeed!" he said, "and you can see, mother, whether everything is properly cared for."
"I expect to find it so," she returned, "as I have every reason to believe my overseer both faithful and competent."
They enjoyed their stroll greatly and she found no reason to change her estimate of the overseer.
It was lunch time when they returned to the house, and on leaving the table some of their party went for a row on the bayou while the rest chose riding or driving through the beautiful woods. Evelyn and Max, Lucilla and Chester formed the riding party and greatly enjoyed their little excursion. The courting of the two young couples was carried on in a very quiet way, but was none the less satisfactory and enjoyable for that. But all four of them felt a great interest in the approaching wedding and much of their talk as they rode was of it, and what gifts to the bride would be the most appropriate and acceptable.
"Chester, you know you have promised to advise me what to give toSidney," Lucilla said, with a smile into his eyes.
"You dear girl! so I will and I make that same request of you, for I am sure you know far more about such matters than I do," he returned with a very loverlike look.
"Quite a mistake, Mr. Dinsmore," she laughed. "But I understood you intended to give some part of the trousseau—perhaps the wedding dress."
"Yes; that and pretty much all the rest of it. And I am sure your help will be invaluable in the choice of the various articles."
"Thank you," she said, with a pleased laugh. "It is very nice to have you think so highly of my judgment and taste; but I hope you will let Grandma Elsie and Mamma Vi and Eva assist in the selection."
"Certainly, if you wish it, but I do not promise to let their opinions have as much weight with me as yours."
"No, you needn't," she returned merrily; "it is by no means disagreeable to have you consider mine the most valuable, even though it be really worthless in other people's esteem. It is very possible Sidney might prefer their choice to mine."
"Ah! but she won't have the chance. By the way, your father has a good deal of taste in the line of ladies' dress, has he not?"
"I think so," she returned with a pleased smile; "he has selected many an article of dress for me, and always suited my taste as well as if I had been permitted to choose for myself. What he buys is sure to be of excellent quality and suited to the intended wearer's age, complexion, and needs."
"You are very fond of your father," Chester said with a smile.
"Indeed I am," she returned in an earnest tone. "I believe I give him all the love that should have been divided between him and my mother, had she lived. Mamma Vi calls him my idol; but I don't think I make him quite that. He has at least one rival in my affection," she added with a blush, and in a tone so low that he barely caught the words.
"And I may guess who that is, may I, dearest?" he returned in the same low key and with a look that spoke volumes of love, and joy in the certainty of her affection.
Max and Eva, riding on a trifle faster, were just far enough ahead and sufficiently absorbed in their own private chat to miss this little colloquy. There were some love passages between them also; some talk of what they hoped the future held in store for them when they should be old enough for the dear, honored father to give his consent to their immediate marriage. Neither of them seemed to have a thought of going contrary to his wishes; so strong was their affection for him and their faith in his wisdom and his love for them.
All four greatly enjoyed their ride and returned to their temporary home in fine health and spirits.
Chester had gotten rid of his troublesome cough before landing in Louisiana and was now looking younger and handsomer than he had before that almost fatal wound—a fact which greatly rejoiced the hearts of his numerous relatives and friends. None more so than that of his betrothed, for whose defence he had risked his life.
By the time the Viamede dinner hour had arrived all the pleasure parties had returned and were ready to do justice to the good cheer provided in abundance. And the meal was enlivened by cheerful chat. The evening was spent much as the previous one had been and all retired early, that Sabbath morning might find them rested, refreshed, and ready for the duties and enjoyments of the sacred day.
Sabbath morning dawned bright and clear and as in former days all the family, old and young, attended church and the pastor's Bible class. And in the afternoon the house and plantation servants collected on the lawn and were addressed by Captain Raymond and Dr. Harold Travilla. Hymns were sung too, and prayers offered.
The services over, the little congregation slowly dispersed; some lingering a few minutes for a shake of the hand and a few kind words from their loved mistress Mrs. Travilla, her father, her son, and Captain Raymond; then as the last one turned to depart, the captain and the doctor walked down to the quarter for a short call upon old Aunt Silvy, still lying in her bed.
Mrs. Travilla had seated herself in the veranda and seemed to be doing nothing but gaze out upon the lovely landscape—the velvety, flower-bespangled lawn, the bayou, and the fields and woods beyond. But the slight patter of little feet drew her attention from that and turning she found Elsie and Ned at her side.
"Grandma, will it be disturbing if I talk to you and ask some questions?" asked the little girl.
"No, dear child, not at all," was the kindly-spoken reply. "I am always glad to help my dear little grandchildren to information when it is in my power. Here is an empty chair on each side of me. Draw them up closely, you and Ned, and seat yourselves and then I hope we can have a nice talk."
"Yes, ma'am; and it will be a pleasant rest too," returned the little girl, as she and her brother followed the directions. "Papa told me once that the meaning of the word Sabbath is rest. But what I wanted particularly to ask about this time, grandma, is the Feast of the Passover. Will you please tell us why it was kept and why they called it that?"
"Surely, my dear children, you have heard the story of the institution of that feast of the Jews called the Passover!" said Grandma Elsie in some surprise. "In the twelfth chapter of Exodus there is a full account of its institution. Every householder in Israel was to take a lamb of a year old, without blemish; and at even on the 14th day of the month it was to be slain. The householder was then to take of the blood of the lamb and sprinkle the door-posts of his house. That was to be a sign to the destroying angel, who was to slay all the firstborn of the Egyptians that night, not to enter and slay here. Then they were to roast the flesh of the lamb and eat it that night with unleavened bread and bitter herbs. The lives of the Israelites were saved by the angel passing over, instead of entering the house to destroy life."
"Oh, yes, grandma, I understand," said the little girl. "But why isChrist called our passover? You know the text—'for even Christ ourPassover is sacrificed for us.'"
"You know," said her grandmother, "that Jesus is often called the 'Lamb of God'; that paschal lamb was a type of Christ and is so spoken of in many Scriptures."
"Thank you, grandma, for telling me," Elsie said gratefully. "And theJews kept that feast every year from that time till the time ofChrist, I suppose. And he kept it too. Wasn't it at that feast that heinstituted what we call the Lord's Supper?"
"Yes," replied her grandmother; "he used the bread and wine which were a part of that feast, saying, 'Take, eat; this is my body. And he took the cup and gave thanks, and gave it to them, saying, Drink ye all of it; for this is my blood of the New Testament, which is shed for many for the remission of sins.'"
"Oh, grandma, how good and kind he was to shed his blood for us! To die that dreadful, dreadful death of the cross that we might go to heaven!" exclaimed the little girl with tears in her sweet blue eyes. "I do love him for it, and I want to be his servant, doing everything he would have me do."
"That is as we all should feel, dear child," replied her grandmother, bending down to press a kiss upon the rosy cheek.
"I do, grandma," said Ned. "Do you think the Lord Jesus takes notice that we love him and want to do as he tells us?"
"Yes, Neddie dear, I am quite sure of it," replied his grandmother. "The Psalmist says, 'Thou compassest my path and my lying down, and art acquainted with all my ways. For there is not a word in my tongue, but, lo, oh, Lord, thou knowest it altogether.'"
"It is so good, grandma, that God doesn't think us not worth noticing," said Elsie; "that he sees and cares for us all the time and lets us ask his help whenever we will."
"It is indeed good, my child, and we are sure of it. Jesus said, 'Are not two sparrows sold for a farthing? and one of them shall not fall to the ground without your Father. But the very hairs of your head are all numbered. Fear ye not therefore, ye are of more value than many sparrows.'"
"I think God was very good to give us our father and mother and grandma; brother Max too and our nice sisters and—and all the rest of the folks," remarked Ned reflectively.
"I am very glad you appreciate all those blessings, my little son," said his mother's voice close at his side.
"Yes, mamma. And oh, mamma! can't Elsie and I go along with the rest of you to New Orleans to-morrow?"
"I think so," she replied with a smile. "I am pretty sure your father will say yes if you ask him. Then he will have all his children along, and that is what he likes."
"He and Uncle Harold went down to the quarter," said Elsie, "and here they come now."
Ned hurried to meet them, preferred his request, and the next moment came running back with the joyful announcement, "Papa says, yes we may. Oh, Elsie, aren't you glad?"
"Yes," she said. "I always like to be with papa and mamma and grandma, and it's ever so pleasant to be on our yacht."
"'Specially when we have both papa and brother Max to make it go all right," said Ned.
"You think it takes the two of us, do you?" laughed his father, taking a seat near his wife and drawing the little fellow in between his knees.
"No, papa; I know you could do it all by your own self," returned Ned. "But when brother Max is there you don't have to take the trouble to mind how things are going all the time."
"No, that's a fact," returned his father, with a pleased laugh. "Brother Max can be trusted, and knows how to manage that large vessel quite as well as papa does. But what will you and Elsie do while we older people are shopping?"
"Why, my dear, there will be so many of us that we will hardly all want to go at once," remarked Violet. "I think there will always be someone willing to stay with the little folks."
"Yes, mamma," said Grace, who had drawn near, "I shall. Shopping is apt to tire me a good deal, and I think I shall prefer to spend the most of the time on theDolphin."
"Yes, daughter, it will certainly be better for you," her father said, giving her an appreciative smile. "You can go when you wish and feel able, and keep quiet and rest when you will. But we will leave the rest of our talk about the trip until to-morrow, choosing for the present some subject better suited to the sacredness of the day. I will now hear the texts which my children have got ready to recite to me."
"Yes, sir," said Grace. "Shall I go and tell Max and Lu that you are ready?"
"You may," the captain answered and she went, to return in a moment with her brother and sister, Chester and Eva.
"Why, I have quite a class," the captain said, with a look of pleasure.
"I for my part esteem it a privilege to be permitted to make one of the number, captain," said Chester.
"As we all do, I think," said Eva.
"Thank you both," said the captain. "Our principal subject to-day is grace; God's grace to us. Can you give me a text that teaches it, Chester?"
"Yes, sir. Paul says in his epistle to the Ephesians, 'That in the ages to come he might shew the exceeding riches of his grace, in his kindness toward us through Christ Jesus. For by grace are ye saved through faith; and that not of yourselves; it is the gift of God.'"
"'Being justified freely by his grace through the redemption that is in Christ Jesus,'" quoted Max in his turn.
Then Evelyn, "'Therefore it is of faith, that it might be by grace; to the end the promise might be sure to all the seed; not to that only which is of the law, but to that also which is of the faith of Abraham; who is the father of us all.'"
Lucilla's turn came next and she repeated a text from 2d Peter: "'Grow in grace, and in the knowledge of our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ. To him be glory both now and forever. Amen.'"
"I have two texts that seem to go well together," said Violet. "The first is in Proverbs, 'Surely he scorneth the scorners: but he giveth grace unto the lowly.' The other is in James, 'But he giveth more grace. Wherefore he saith, God resisteth the proud but giveth grace unto the humble.'"
It was Grace's turn and she repeated, with a look of joy, "'For the Lord God is a sun and shield; the Lord will give grace and glory; no good thing will he withhold from them that walk uprightly. Oh, Lord of hosts, blessed is the man that trusteth in thee.'"
"I have a little one, papa," said his daughter Elsie: "'Looking diligently lest any man fail of the grace of God.'"
"This is mine and it is short too," said Ned. "'Thou therefore, my son, be strong in the grace that is in Christ Jesus.'"
"Yes, my boy, that is a short verse, but long enough if you will be careful to put it in practice," said his father.
Grandma Elsie, sitting near, had been listening attentively to the quotations of the younger people and now she joined in with one: "'And of his fulness have all we received, and grace for grace. For the law was given by Moses, but grace and truth came by Jesus Christ.' 'Wherefore gird up the loins of your mind, be sober, and hope to the end for the grace that is to be brought unto you at the revelation of Jesus Christ.'"
As she ceased, Cousin Ronald, who had drawn near, joined in the exercise, repeating the text, "'What shall we say then? Shall we continue in sin that grace may abound?… Shall we sin because we are not under the law, but under grace? God forbid,'" then, at the captain's request, followed them with a few pertinent remarks. A little familiar talk from the captain followed and then came the call to the tea table. All retired early to their beds that night that they might be ready to leave them betimes in the morning and set out in good season on their trip to the city. They succeeded in so doing, all feeling well and in the best of spirits.
The weather was fine, their voyage a prosperous one without any remarkable adventure, and the shopping proved quite as interesting and enjoyable as any of the shoppers had expected.
They all made the yacht their headquarters while they stayed, and the little ones hardly left it at all. They had always a companion; generally it was Grace, and she exerted herself for their entertainment—playing games with them and telling them stories or reading aloud from some interesting book.
All enjoyed the return voyage to Viamede and the warm welcome from Grandpa and Grandma Dinsmore on their arrival there. Then it was a pleasure to display their purchases and hear the admiring comments upon them. The bridal veil and the material for the wedding dress were greatly admired and all the purchases highly approved of by both these grandparents and the relatives from the Parsonage, Magnolia, and Torriswood, all of whom came in early in the evening, full of interest in the results of the shopping expedition.
They had a pleasant social time together, the principal topic of conversation being the bride's trousseau and so forth, and the various arrangements for the coming festivities to be had in connection with the approaching marriage.
Chester had been very generous in providing the trousseau, and Sidney was very grateful to him. Each of the Raymonds made her a gift of a handsome piece of sliver, Grandma Elsie adding a beautiful set of jewelry. Sidney was delighted with her gifts. "Oh, Ches, but you are good to me!" she exclaimed with glad tears in her eyes; "and all the rest of you, dear friends and relatives. This jewelry, Cousin Elsie, is lovely, and I shall always think of you when I wear it. All the silver is just beautiful too, and indeed everything. I feel as rich as a queen."
"And when you have Cousin Bob added to all the rest, how do you suppose you are going to stand it?" laughed Harold.
"Oh, as the gifts are partly to him, he will help me to stand it,"Sidney returned, with a smiling glance at her affianced.
"I'll do my best," he answered, returning the smile.
"You must not allow yourselves to be overwhelmed yet," remarked Mr. Embury, "when not half the relatives and friends have been heard from."
"And I'll warrant my sister Betty will remember my bride with something worth while," remarked the bridegroom-elect.
"Yes, she will; I haven't a doubt of it," said Mrs. Embury; "and as they are in good circumstances it will no doubt be something handsome."
"Of course it will," said Dick. "Sister Betty was always a generous soul, taking delight in giving."
"Being related to you both, Bob and Sid, I want to give you something worth while. What would you like it to be?" said Mrs. Keith.
"Oh, never mind, Isa," exclaimed Dr. Johnson, jocosely, "your husband is to tie the knot, and if he does it right—as no doubt he will—he will give me my bride, and that will be the best, most valuable gift any one could bestow upon me."
"Yes," laughed Isa; "but it won't hurt you to have something else—something from me too."
"Oh, by the way, why shouldn't we have a triple wedding?" exclaimed Maud. "I think it would be just lovely! It struck me so when I heard yesterday of the engagement of Max and Eva."
At that the young people colored, the girls looking slightly embarrassed, but no one spoke for a moment.
"Don't you think it would make a pretty wedding, Cousin Vi?" askedMaud.
"I dare say it would, Maud," replied Mrs. Raymond, "but our young folks are too young yet for marriage, my husband thinks, and should all wait for a year or two. Besides," she added with playful look and tone, "there would be hardly time to make ready a proper trousseau for either, and certainly not for both."
"Oh, well, I hardly expected to be able to bring it about," returnedMaud, "but I certainly do think it would be pretty."
"So it would," said Mrs. Embury; "very pretty indeed, but that wouldn't pay for hurrying anyone into marriage before he or she is ready."
"No," said Cousin Ronald, "it is always best to make haste slowly in matters so vitally important."
"Wouldn't you be willing to make haste quickly in this instance, dearest?" queried Chester in a low aside to Lucilla; for as usual they sat near together.
"No," she returned with a saucy smile, "I find courting times too pleasant to be willing to cut them short; even if father would let me; and I know he would not."
"And he won't let the other couple; which is good, since misery loves company."
"Ah, is courting me such hard work?" she asked, knitting her brows in pretended anger and disgust.
"Delightful work, but taking you for my very own would be still better."
"Ah, but you see that Captain Raymond considers me one of the little girls who are still too young to leave their fathers."
"Well, you know I am pledged never to take you away from him."
"Yes, I am too happy in the knowledge of that ever to forget it. But do you know I for one should not fancy being married along with other couples—one ceremony serving for all. I should hardly feel sure the thing had been thoroughly and rightly done."
"Shouldn't you?" laughed Chester. "Well, then, we will have the minister and ceremony all to ourselves whenever we do have it."
Just then the lady visitors rose to take leave, and Chester, who had promised to return with Dr. and Mrs. Percival to Torriswood for the night, had time for but a few words with Lucilla. "I hope to be here again to-morrow pretty soon after breakfast," he said. "I grudge every hour spent away from your side."
"Really, you flatter me," she laughed. "I doubt if anybody else appreciates my society so highly."
"You are probably mistaken as to that," he said. "I am quite aware that I am not your only admirer, and I feel highly flattered by your preference for me."
"Do you?" she laughed. "Well, I think it would not be prudent to tell you how great it is—if I could. Good-night," giving him her hand, which he lifted to his lips.
As usual she had a bit of chat with her father before retiring to her sleeping apartment for the night, and in that she repeated something of this little talk with Chester. "Yes, he is very much in love, and finds it hard to wait," said the captain; "but I am no more ready to give up my daughter than he is to wait for her."
"I am in no hurry, papa," said Lucilla, "I do so love to be with you and under your care—and authority," she added with a mirthful, loving look up into his eyes.
"Yes, daughter dear, but do you expect to escape entirely from that last when you marry?"
"No, sir; and I don't want to. I really do love to be directed and controlled by you—my own dear father."
"I think no man ever had a dearer child than this one of mine," he said with emotion, drawing her into his arms and caressing her with great tenderness. He held her close for a moment, then releasing her bade her go and prepare for her night's rest.
Max and Evelyn were again sauntering along near the bayou, enjoying a bit of private chat before separating for the night.
"What do you think of Maud's proposition, Eva?" he asked.
"It seems hardly worth while to think about it at all, Max," she replied in a mirthful tone; "at least not if one cares for a trousseau; or for pleasing your father in regard to the time of—taking that important step; tying that knot that we cannot untie again should we grow ever so tired of it."
"I have no fear of that last so far as my feelings are concerned, dearest, and I hope you have none," he said in a tone that spoke some slight uneasiness.
"Not the slightest," she hastened to reply. "I think we know each other too thoroughly to indulge any such doubts and fears. Still, as I have great faith in your father's wisdom, and courting times are not by any means unpleasant, I feel in no haste to bring them to an end. You make such a delightful lover, Max, that the only thing I feel in a hurry about is the right to call the dear captain father."
"Ah, I don't wonder that you are in haste for that," returned Max. "I should be sorry indeed not to have that right. He is a father to love and to be proud of."
"He is indeed," she responded. "I fell in love with him at first sight and have loved him more and more ever since; for the better one knows him the more admirable and lovable he seems."
"I think that is true," said Max. "I am very proud of my father and earnestly desire to have him proud of me."
"Which he evidently is," returned Eva, "and I don't wonder at it."
"Thank you," laughed Max; then added more gravely, "I hope I may never do anything to disgrace him."
"I am sure you never will," returned Eva in a tone that seemed to say such a thing could not be possible. "Had we not better retrace our steps to the house now?" she asked the next moment.
"Probably," said Max. "I presume father would say I ought not to deprive you of your beauty sleep. But these private walks and chats are so delightful to me that I am apt to be selfish about prolonging them."
"And your experience on shipboard has accustomed you to late hours, I suppose?"
"Yes; to rather irregular times of sleeping and waking. A matter of small importance, however, when one gets used to it."
"But there would be the rub with me," she laughed, "in the getting used to it."