Chapter Twenty-third.
"She was like A dream of poetry, that may not be Written or told--exceeding beautiful." --Willis.
As Mildred sat at the open window of her dressing-room the nextmorning, enjoying the beauty of the landscape, the delicious perfume ofmyriads of dew-laden shrubs and flowers, the gentle summer breeze andthe glad songs of the birds, her ear caught the patter of little feetin the corridor without, then a gentle rap upon her door.
She made haste to open it, and a vision of loveliness met her view:--atiny, fairy form arrayed in spotless white, of some thin, delicatefabric, trimmed with costly lace, and a broad sash of pale blue, withslippers to match; a shining mass of golden brown curls clusteringabout the sweet face and rippling over the fair neck and shoulders.
The soft brown eyes looked up lovingly into her face, and the rosebudmouth was held up for a kiss.
"Good morning, cousin," said the bird-like voice; "do Elsie 'sturb youcoming so soon?"
"No, darling, indeed you don't!" cried Mildred, giving her a rapturousembrace; "I can't see too much of you, dear little pet! Will you comeand sit in my lap while we have another nice talk?"
The child hesitated. "Don't you want to come wis me, cousin, and see mymamma when she was a little girl, and my mamma's things?"
"I should like it greatly," Mildred answered, suffering herself to beled along the corridor and into an open door at its farther end.
Here she found herself in a beautiful boudoir; evidently no expense hadbeen spared in furnishing it in the most luxurious and tasteful manner;even Mildred's inexperienced eye recognized the costly nature of manyof its adornments, though there was nothing gaudy about them.
Elsie led her directly to a full-length, life-sized picture of a littlegirl of ten or twelve, before which Mildred stood transfixed withdelight,--face and form were so life-like, and so exquisitely lovely.
She gazed upon it for many minutes with ravished eyes, then glancing atthe little one standing by her side, said half aloud, "Beautiful as itis, I do not believe it is flattered; for it is just what she will besix or eight years hence."
"It's my mamma when she was a little girl," Elsie said, "and this,"drawing the miniature from her bosom, "is my mamma when she was a lady."
Mildred gazed upon it again long and earnestly, thinking as before,that there was abundant excuse for her cousin Horace's passion and hisinconsolable grief over his loss.
There were two other portraits in the room, which Elsie said were"Grandpa and Grandma Grayson."
She pointed out, too, her mother's writing-desk and her work-table, adainty basket upon this last, with its little gold thimble and a bit ofembroidery with the needle still sticking in it, just as it had beenlaid down by the white hands on the morning of the day on which thelittle one first saw the light.
It was Aunt Chloe, coming in in search of her nursling, who toldMildred this.
But Elsie drew her on through a beautiful dressing-room into a spaciousand elegantly furnished bedroom beyond, and Aunt Chloe following,pointed out, with bitter weeping, the pillow on which the dyinghead had lain, and described the last hours of her idolized youngmistress:--her mournful leave-taking of her little babe, and dyinginjunction to her to bring her up to love the Lord Jesus.
It was all intensely interesting and deeply affecting to Mildred.
"Don't cry, mammy, you dear ole mammy!" said Elsie, pulling her nursedown into a chair, and with her own tiny white handkerchief wipingaway her tears, "don't cry, 'cause dear mamma is very happy wis Jesus,and you and Elsie are goin' dere, too, some day. An' den I'll tell mysweet, pretty mamma you did be good to her baby, and took care of herall the time."
At that Aunt Chloe strained the tiny form convulsively to her breastwith a fresh burst of sobs, and looking up at Mildred with the greattears rolling down her sable cheeks, faltered out, "O, Miss Milly, deyain't gwine take my chile 'way and disseparate ole Chloe from de las'ting she got lef' to lub in dis world?"
"O, mammy, no, no! dey shan't, dey shan't!" cried the child, clingingabout her neck in almost wild affright. "Elsie won't go! Elsie willalways stay wis her dear ole mammy!"
"No, no, you are not to be parted," Mildred hastened to say; "Elsie,darling, your grandpa told me you were not. So don't cry, pet."
"O, Miss Milly, dat bressed news!" cried Aunt Chloe, smiling throughher tears. "I's tank you berry much. Dere, dere, honey darlin', don'cry no mo'! I's ole fool mammy to make you cry like dat."
The breakfast bell rang, and hastily removing the traces of the tearscalled forth by Aunt Chloe's narrative, Mildred obeyed the summons. Mr.Dinsmore seemed in excellent spirits, chatting in quite a lively strainall through the meal. He was enchanted with the place, he said, andintended, if agreeable to Mildred, to remain some weeks, believing thatthe change of scene and climate would prove beneficial to them both.Mildred assured him, her eyes sparkling with delight the while, thatshe was perfectly willing to stay as long as suited his convenience andpleasure.
"There are horses, carriages and servants always at your command," heremarked; "a pleasure boat on the lakelet, too, and oarsmen to row it,so that you can go out on the water, ride or drive whenever you wish."
"O, uncle, how nice!" she cried; "I shall enjoy it all greatly withlittle Elsie for a companion and you will sometimes go with us whenyou have leisure, will you not?"
"I shall be most happy," he said, "but fear it will be but seldom thatI can."
The family carriage was ordered at once, and the greater part of themorning was spent by Mildred, Elsie and Aunt Chloe in driving from onelovely spot to another.
At little Elsie's request they visited the family burial ground, andMildred viewed with pensive interest the last resting-place of herCousin Horace's young wife--"the sweet, pretty mamma," of whom the babygirl so constantly prattled. The spot was beautiful with roses and manysweet-scented shrubs and flowers growing there, and daily Elsie andher mammy came thither with love's offering in the shape of buds andblossoms gathered from the lawn and gardens, which they scattered withlavish hands over each lowly mound, but ever reserving the most and theloveliest for the grave of her whom they loved best.
There was seldom a day when the quarter was not visited also, AuntChloe taking her nursling from cabin to cabin to inquire concerning thewelfare of the inmates, and give to each the pleasure of the sight ofthe little fair face that was so dear to them all.
Their devotion to her, and various ways of manifesting it, greatlypleased and interested Mildred; and she was not long in discoveringthat they were exceedingly anxious in regard to the question whetherboth she--their idolized little mistress--and they were to be allowedto remain at Viamede.
Some of them even ventured, in their great anxiety, to inquire of theyoung lady visitor if she could tell them aught about these things.
She evaded the question so far as it referred to Elsie, feeling thatshe could not endure the sight of their grief when they should learnthat they were to lose her; as to the other part she said, truly, thatshe was ignorant, but hoped there was no real danger.
She ventured at length to sound her uncle on the subject, telling ofthe fears of the poor creatures; and to her delight was given libertyto assure them that none would be sold unless unruly and disobedient toorders.
She availed herself of this permission on her next visit to the quarter.
The communication was received with joy and gratitude; but there stillremained the great fear that Mr. Dinsmore would carry away theirdarling; and this Mildred was powerless to remove.
She told Mrs. Murray about it, and the good woman confessed with tears,that she, too, was tortured with the fear of separation from "the sweetbairn she had learned to love as her very own;" asking if Mildred knewwhether that trial awaited her.
Mildred looked grieved and perplexed. "I only know," she said,after a moment's hesitation, "that uncle intends taking his littlegranddaughter home with him. Should you feel willing t
o leave Viamede,Mrs. Murray?"
"The bairn is far dearer to me than the place; though I hae spent monyo' the best years o' my life here," was the reply. "I wad gang onywhere sooner than part frae my bonnie bit lassie. I have a mother'sheart for her, Miss Keith, and hae often wanted to bid her call me bysome dearer name than Mrs. Murray; but knowing the Dinsmores were proudfolk, I feared to offend; and I perceive it was well I refrained, sinceI hae learned frae Aunt Chloe that the grandfather was no pleased thatshe spoke o' Mr. Cameron as her uncle."
"No, he didn't seem to like it, and told her not to do so again. Butmight not that be the jealousy of affection?"
Mildred blushed as she spoke, half ashamed--in view of Mr. Dinsmore'sevident lack of love for the child--of making the suggestion.
"Affection!" repeated Mrs. Murray, with a faint, incredulous smile; "Idinna see much in his manner toward the bairn that looks like it."
To this remark Mildred had no answer save a deeper blush.
But at this moment Mrs. Murray was summoned to a conference with Mr.Dinsmore in the library. She came back with a face full of joy andthankfulness.
Mr. Dinsmore had received a letter that day from Mrs. Brown, thehousekeeper at Roselands, saying that her health was failing, thephysician recommended change of climate, and therefore she must resignher situation for a year or more.
Mr. Dinsmore now offered it to Mrs. Murray, and Aunt Phillis, an oldservant in the family and every way competent to the task, would beleft in charge of the mansion here.
"I am very glad for both you and little Elsie," said Mildred, "and yetI feel sorry for you, and for her, that you must leave this lovelyspot. Is it not a trial?"
"I canna deny that it is," the housekeeper answered, with a sigh, "forI hae lived at Viamede many years; years in which I hae seen much o'baith joy and sorrow, and I had hoped to end my days here; but as thesaintly Rutherford says,
"'This is the Lord's lower house; and while we are lodged here we haveno assurance to lie ever in one chamber, but must be content to removefrom one Lord's nether house to another, resting in hope that when wecome up to the Lord's upper city, Jerusalem, that is above, we shallremove no more; because then we shall be at home.' Ah, Miss Milly, whata joyous day it will be when we win there!"
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