consider it so most decidedly," he returned, his eyes kindling with anger. "Elsie Grayson, the daughter of a man who, though wealthy, has made all his money by trade, was no fit match for my son, and I consider it a fortunate thing that she did not live: it would have been, in my estimation, still more fortunate if her child had died with her."
Miss Stanhope was shocked.
"O Arthur, how can you!" she exclaimed, tears starting to her eyes, "how can you feel so toward your own little granddaughter; a poor motherless baby too! Truly pride must be a great hardener of the heart."
"Old Grayson's grandchild," he muttered, rising to pace the floor in a hasty excited manner. "Please oblige me by not mentioning this subject again," he said: "it is exceedingly unpleasant to me."
Miss Stanhope sighed inwardly.
"Arthur," she said, "Pride goeth before destruction, and an haughty spirit before a fall."
She did not broach the subject again during the remainder of his brief stay with her.
"I am going out for a look at your town," he said, taking up his hat. "I hope," turning back at the door, with his hand on the knob, "that Mildred has heard nothing of this affair?" he remarked inquiringly.
"She knows all that I do, I believe," Miss Stanhope answered quietly. "It seemed to be Horace's wish that she should be told."
Mr. Dinsmore went out with a groan, and Mildred coming in at that instant by another door, heard, and inquired somewhat anxiously, of her aunt, what was the matter.
Miss Stanhope thought it best to tell her and advise avoidance of any allusion to Horace's wife or child, when in her uncle's presence; unless he should himself take the initiative.
Mildred promised to be careful, "Though why he should feel so I cannot understand," she added, "I, for my part, feel the greatest interest in that little child, and regret exceedingly that I shall not see her. But Cousin Horace's feelings toward her are more inexplicable still. How can he help loving his own little baby girl, who seems to have no one else to love and cherish her except the servants!"
It was now an hour since they had left the breakfast table: Miss Stanhope's morning duties connected with the care of the household, had been attended to, Phillis and Simon had received their orders for the day, and the good lady might conscientiously indulge herself and Mildred in the lengthened chat both had been longing for ever since the arrival of the latter the previous night.
Of course the first and most absorbingly interesting topic was the home circle at Pleasant Plains. That thoroughly discussed, they passed on to friends and neighbors both there and here, each finding numerous questions to ask the other, and many a bit of news to give.
"What has become of poor Mrs. Osborne and Frank?" Mildred inquired.
"Ah, she has gone home at last, and is forever done with pain and sickness," Miss Stanhope answered. "It was hard for Frank, but a blessed release to her—poor dear woman! It was three weeks ago she went, and a week after Frank came to bid me good-bye. He's going to work his way through college, he told me, and make his mark in the world. And, Milly, my dear," she added with a slightly mischievous smile, "he hinted pretty broadly that when his laurels were won they would be laid at the feet of a certain young girl of my acquaintance; if I thought there might be some faint hope that she would not deem it presumption."
"And what did you answer to that, Aunt Wealthy;" queried Mildred, with heightened color and a look of mingled vexation and amusement. "He is such a mere boy!" she added, "I never thought of him as anything else."
"Of course not; nor did I. But he is a good, true, noble fellow, bright and intelligent above the ordinary, and very modest and unassuming with it all. He will make a fine man."
"Yes; I think so too, and if he happens to fancy one of my younger sisters, I'll consent with all my heart, and do what I can to further his suit."
Aunt Wealthy shook her head and smiled. "It's not what he wants now; but who knows? Time does work wonderful changes now and then."
Mildred's thoughts seemed to have wandered away from the subject; she was silent for a moment; then suddenly asked, "Aunt Wealthy, do you know what sort of person—Dear me, what am I to call her? Mrs. or Aunt Dinsmore? What would you do about it?"
"I should ask her what title she preferred, and act accordingly. No; I have never met her, and know very little about her, except that she is not a pious woman."
"And uncle?"
"Is not a Christian either," Miss Stanhope said sorrowfully, as Mildred paused, leaving her sentence unfinished; "believes nothing more necessary to secure salvation than an honest, upright, moral life. My dear child, you are going into an atmosphere of worldliness, and will need to watch and pray, keeping close to the Master. Ah! what joy that we need never be any farther away from him in one place than another!"
"Yes, that was what mother said," murmured Mildred, tears filling her eyes at the thought of the many miles now lying between her and that loved parent and friend; "she promised to pray daily for me that I might be kept from the evil, and you will do so, too, Aunt Wealthy, will you not?"
"Indeed I will, dear child," was the earnest response.
Chapter Fourth.
"Wear this for me."
—Shakespeare.
"Your traveling suit is very neat and becoming—very ladylike," Miss Stanhope remarked, with an approving glance at Mildred's trim figure, "I don't think your Uncle Dinsmore can have felt that he had any reason to be ashamed of you."
"I hope not," was the smiling rejoinder, "and I did not see any indications of it."
"But how about the rest of your wardrobe, child? I fear you had small choice of material in Pleasant Plains, and very little time for making up your purchases. We might do rather better here, if we could persuade your uncle to lengthen his intended stay."
"Thank you, auntie dear, you are always so kind and thoughtful," Mildred said, "but I don't think he could be persuaded, and indeed I should not like to have him delay for my sake, because I know he and his wife are anxious to get home before the cold weather sets in."
She went on to explain her plans, and to tell of her Cousin Horace's generous gift.
"That was just like him, he's an open-handed, noble fellow," was Aunt Wealthy's comment, "you need never hesitate to take a kindness from him, because he enjoys it, and is abundantly able. But I must not be outdone by him," she continued with a smile, rising and going to her bureau—for they were in her bedroom now—"or rather, I wish to do my share in proportion to my ability."
Mildred protested that her wants were already well supplied; but playfully bidding her be quiet and let older and wiser heads judge of that, Miss Stanhope proceeded to take a key from her pocket, unlock the drawers of her bureau, and bring forth her treasures:—a quantity of rich old lace, that the finest lady in the land might have been proud to wear, several handsome rings, a diamond pin, and a beautiful gold chain for the neck.
"They are old fashioned, dearie," she said, "but no
