grounds had forgotten their former neat and trim appearance, and the house needed paint and some slight repairs. But this was all; and they felt it a cause for thankfulness that things were no worse.
A group of relatives and retainers were gathered in the veranda to greet them; an aged, white-haired man the central figure, around him three ladies in deep mourning, a one-armed gentleman, and a crowd of children of both sexes and all ages, from the babe in arms to the youth of sixteen; while in the rear could be seen Mrs. Murray's portly figure, and strong, sensible Scotch face, beaming with pleasure, relieved by a background of dusky faces, lighted up with joy and expectation.
Mr. Dinsmore alighted first, gave his hand to his wife, and leaving young Horace to attend to Rosebud, hastened to meet his father.
The old man tottered forward and fell upon his neck, weeping bitterly. "My son, my boa, my only one now; I have lost all—everything—wife, sons, home; all swept away, nothing left to my old age but you."
"Yes, that's it always," sneered a sharp voice near at hand; "daughters count for nothing; grandchildren are equally valuable. Sons, houses, and lands are the only possessions worth having."
"Enna, how can you!" exclaimed Mrs. Howard.
But neither father nor brother seemed to hear, or heed the unkind, unfilial remark. The old man was sobbing on his son's shoulder; he soothing him as tenderly as ever he had soothed wife or daughter.
"My home is yours as long as you choose to make it so, my dear father; and Roselands shall be restored, and your old age crowned with the love and reverence of children and children's children."
Hastily recovering himself, the old gentleman released his son, gave an affectionate greeting to Rose, and catching sight of young Horace, now a handsome youth of nineteen, embraced him, exclaiming, "Ah, yes, here is another son for me! one of whom I may well be proud. Rosie, too, grown to a great girl! Glad to see you, dear." But the first carriage had moved on; the second had come up and discharged its living freight, and Mr. Travilla, with Vi in his arms, Elsie leading her eldest daughter and son, had stepped upon the veranda, followed by Dinah with the babe.
"Dear grandpa," Mrs. Travilla said, in tender, tremulous tones, dropping her children's hands to put her arms about his neck, as he turned from Rosebud to her, "my poor, dear grandpa, we will all try to comfort you, and make your old age bright and happy. See, here are your great-grandchildren ready to rise up and call you blessed."
"God bless you, child!" he said, in quivering tones, embracing her with more affection than ever before. "And this," laying his hand on wee Elsie's head, "is yourself as you were at the same age."
"I'm very sorry for you, dear old grandpa; mamma has told me all about it," the little girl softly whispered, putting her small arms about his neck as he stooped to give her a kiss.
"Me too," Eddie put in, offering his hand and lips.
"That's right; good boy; good children. How are you, Travilla? You've come back to find ruin and desolation where you left beauty and prosperity;" and the aged voice shook with emotion.
Mr. Travilla had a kindly, hearty hand-shake, and gentle sympathizing words for him, then presented Vi and Baby Harold.
Meanwhile the greetings were being exchanged by the others. Lora met her brother, and both Rose and Elsie, with the warm affection of earlier days, mingled with grief for the losses and sorrows that had befallen since they parted.
Mr. Howard, too, was cordial in his greeting, but Louise and Enna met them with coldness and disdain, albeit they were mere pensioners upon Horace's bounty, self-invited guests in his house.
Louise gave the tips of her fingers to each, in sullen silence, while Enna drew back from the offered hands, muttering, "A set of Yankees come to spy out the nakedness of the land; don't give a hand to them, children."
"As you like," Mr. Dinsmore answered indifferently, stepping past her to speak to Mrs. Murray and the servants; "you know I will do a brother's part by my widowed sisters all the same."
"For shame, Enna!" said Lora; "you are here in Horace's house, and neither he nor the others ever took part against us."
"I don't care, it was nearly as bad to stay away and give no help," muttered the offender, giving Elsie a look of scorn and aversion.
"Be quiet, will you, Madam Johnson," said her old father; "it would be no more than right if Horace should turn you out of the house. Elsie," seeing tears coursing the cheeks of the latter, "don't distress yourself, child; she's not worth minding."
"That is quite true, little wife," said Mr. Travilla; "and though you have felt for her sorrows, do not let her unkindness wound you."
Elsie wiped away her tears, but only waiting to speak to Mrs. Murray and the servants, retired immediately to the privacy of her own apartments, Mr. Travilla accompanying her with their children and attendants.
Wearied with her journey, and already saddened by the desolations of the country over which they had passed, this cold, and even insulting reception from the aunts—over whose bereavements she had wept in tender sympathy—cut her to the quick.
"Oh, Edward, how can they behave so to papa and mamma in their own house!" she said, sitting down upon a sofa in her boudoir and laying aside her hat, while her eyes again overflowed; "dear papa and mamma, who are always so kind!"
"And you, too, dearest," he said, placing himself by her side and putting an arm about her. "It is shameful conduct, but do not allow it to trouble you."
"I will try not to mind it, but let me cry; I shall get over it the sooner. I never thought to feel so uncomfortable in my father's house. Ah, if Ion were only ready for us!" she sighed.
"I am glad that your home must be with me for the present, daughter, if you can only enjoy it," said her father, who, still ever watchful over her happiness, had followed to soothe and comfort her. "It grieves me that your feelings should have been so wounded," he added, seating himself on the other side, and taking her hand in his.
"Thank you, dear papa; it is for you and mamma, even more than myself, that I feel hurt."
"Then never mind it, dearest. Enna has already coolly told me that she and Louise have settled themselves in the west wing, with their children and servants; where they purpose to maintain a separate establishment, having no desire to associate with any of us; though I, of course, am to supply their table at my own expense, as well as whatever else is needed," he added, with a slight laugh of mingled amusement and vexation.
"Considering it a great privilege to be permitted to do so, I presume," Mr. Travilla remarked, a little sarcastically.
"Of course; for cool impudence Enna certainly exceeds every other person of my acquaintance."
"You must let us share the privilege."
"Thanks; but we will talk of that at another time. I know you and Elsie have dreaded the bad influence of Enna's spoiled children upon yours; and I, too, have feared it for them, and for Rosebud; but there is to be no communication between theirs and ours; Louise's one set, and Enna's two, keeping to their own side of the building and grounds, and ours not intruding upon them. Enna had it all arranged, and simply made the announcement to me, probably with little idea of the relief she was affording."
"It is a great relief," said Elsie. "Aunt Lora's are better trained, and will not——"
