a bad young man," said Mildred, in surprise.
"He isn't," said Mrs. Dinsmore, "he's a thorough gentleman and has no vices; there isn't a finer young man the country round. But he isn't pious; so of course she considers him a reprobate."
"I have heard my mother speak of Mrs. Travilla as a lovely Christian lady and an intimate friend of Aunt Eva," said Mildred, willing to introduce a new topic.
"Yes; and I always feel that she is making comparisons, unfavorable to me of course, between Mr. Dinsmore's first wife and myself. So I can hardly be expected to be very fond of her."
"But isn't it possible that you may be mistaken, Aunt Isabel?"
"I'm not given to fancies," was the ungracious rejoinder.
Then there was a short silence broken presently by a query from Mildred.
"Has Mrs. Travilla any daughters?"
"No; only a son; and he's away in Europe. The families—ours and theirs—have always been intimate, Edward Travilla and Horace inseparable companions, and they went to Europe together."
"It seems odd I should have been here so long without meeting Mrs. Travilla."
"She has been away; went North with her son, and did not return till quite recently. She called at Roselands the same day Mrs. Landreth did and inquired for you."
Mildred was greatly pleased with both Ion and its mistress.
The grounds were extensive, beautiful and well cared for, the house, a fine old mansion handsomely furnished, abounded in tasteful ornamentation; there were articles of vertu scattered through its rooms—rare and costly bits of painting and sculpture. Also less expensive adornments, singing birds and blooming plants and flowers; all showing a refined and cultivated taste, and forming together a most harmonious and charming whole.
Mrs. Travilla was perhaps some years older than Mrs. Dinsmore, and with her, too, youthful bloom had fled; but it had given place to beauty of another and higher order—the illumination of a richly cultivated mind and heart.
She was attired with simple elegance and a due regard to her age, circumstances and what best became her style of beauty. Her manner was simple and cordial, her conversation sprightly, her voice low and sweet toned.
"You resemble your mother," she said with a kindly smile, taking Mildred's hand in parting, and gazing earnestly into her face. "I remember her well for I saw a good deal of her in her visits to Roselands: and truly to know her was to love her. Some day soon, if your aunt can spare you, you must spend a day with me, and we will have a long talk about her. I want to hear all you have to tell."
"Oh, I should be delighted!" Mildred exclaimed, her cheeks glowing, her eyes sparkling. Mrs. Travilla had found the way to her heart, and from that moment they were fast friends.
Chapter Tenth.
"There is a Friend that sticketh closer than a brother."
—Proverbs 18. 24.
"You found Mrs. Travilla a decided contrast to the other lady," remarked Mrs. Dinsmore, as they drove down the avenue at Ion; "pray, which do you think is right in her religious views?"
"There is no question in my mind as to which is the more attractive," said Mildred, "or which seems to recommend her religion the most by her looks and ways; yet Mrs. Landreth's self-denial certainly appears commendable, but—oh, I confess that I am really puzzled and must take time to consider."
"Well, I hope you won't pattern after Mrs. Landreth."
"No, never!" Mildred exclaimed, with energy. "I know it cannot be right to make home uninviting and cheerless; my mother has taught me better than that, both by precept and example."
"There is a letter for you, my dear," Mr. Dinsmore said, handing his wife and niece from the carriage.
"From whom?" she asked, with interest.
"I have not opened it, but the address is in your sister Delia's hand."
"Ah! then it is just the one I want."
At the tea table Mrs. Dinsmore made an announcement.
"My nieces, Juliet and Reba Marsden, are coming on a visit here. We may expect them to-night or to-morrow."
"To-night?" said Mr. Dinsmore inquiringly. "They come by the stage, eh?"
"Yes; it passes at what hour?"
"Eight; Pomp," to the servant in waiting, "tell Aunt Phœbe to have a hot supper ready at quarter past eight."
"Young ladies, Aunt?" asked Mildred, looking up with a bright, pleased face.
"Yes, eighteen and twenty. Company for you, I hope."
Mildred slipped away to her own room shortly before the time for the arrival of the stage. She had a lesson to prepare, a letter to write, and thought her aunt would want to have her nieces to herself for the first hour or two. Besides Mrs. Dinsmore had expressed an intention to send them to bed betimes, that they might be fresh for the ball which was to come off the next evening.
On the stairway Mildred met her three cousins, Adelaide, Louise, and Lora.
"Study hour's just over, and we're going to the drawing-room," they announced. "We've got leave to stay up and see our cousins when they come."
"That's nice," she answered, "I hope to see them in the morning."
In the hall above, she passed Miss Worth on her way from the schoolroom to her own apartment. She was struck with the weary and sad expression of her face, and paused for an instant, half inclined to offer her sympathy, and ask if in anything she could be of service.
But with a slight nod of recognition, the governess glided by, and the next moment Mildred heard her door close, and the key turn in the lock.
"Poor thing! I dare say she is homesick!" thought Mildred, passing on into her own room, which she found, as usual, very bright and cheery; a good fire, a table with an astral lamp, books and writing materials, drawn up near it, an easy chair on the farther side; the one inviting to work, the other to repose.
She had completely won Rachel's heart, and the young handmaiden took especial pride and pleasure in arranging everything to "Miss Milly's" liking, and being always ready to wait upon her.
Mildred sat down at the table and opened her books.
"Two hours for these and my letter to mother; then to bed and to sleep, that I may be able to rise early and secure the two morning hours for study before seeing those girls at breakfast," was the thought in her mind.
She set herself to her work with determined energy, but in vain; she could not fix her attention. She conned the words again and again but without taking in their meaning. Miss Worth's sad face kept coming between her and the printed page.
"She is very lonely,
