"No, no, it is a daughter I want," she returned still playfully. "I have often wondered how it has come to pass that my warm-hearted boy seems so perfectly invulnerable to Cupid's darts."
"All seeming, mother," he answered lightly, but with a wistful yearning look in his eyes which were fixed upon a little group on the farther side of the room; "to tell you a secret," and he bent down, that the low-breathed words might catch her ear alone, "I have been hopelessly in love for many years."
She started with surprise,—for there was the ring of deep, earnest feeling beneath the jesting tone—then following the direction of his glance, and perceiving that the group upon which it rested was composed of Adelaide and Elsie Dinsmore, with some half dozen gentlemen who had gathered about them, she looked greatly pleased.
"And why hopeless?" she asked.
"Ah, the evidences of indifference are so patent that I cannot hope she will ever learn to care for me."
"And pray what may they be?"
"Constraint and reserve, where formerly there was much warmth and cordiality of manner."
"You foolish boy! if that be all, you may take heart. I would not ask for better symptoms. And remember the old proverb—'Faint heart never won fair lady.' You do not fear that she still clings to the old love?"
"No, ah no!"
"I never saw Adelaide look better than she does to-night," was Mrs. Travilla's next remark; "what a queenly presence, and noble face she has, and how very lovely our little Elsie is! She seems to have gained every womanly grace without losing a particle of her sweet childish simplicity and freshness."
Her son assented with a slight sigh, and wandered off in their direction. But before he reached the little group, Elsie had taken Harold Allison's arm and was being led away toward the conservatory. Harold had a rare plant to show her, and was glad of the excuse to get her to himself for a few moments.
For the rest of the evening Mr. Travilla devoted himself to Adelaide, his mother looking on with beaming countenance, and thinking how gladly she would welcome the dear girl to her heart and home.
It was past twelve when the company dispersed. Harry and his bride having started an hour before upon their wedding tour.
"Get to bed as soon as you can, my dear child; you are looking sadly fatigued," Mr. Dinsmore said, putting his arm about his daughter as she came to him for her good-night kiss.
"I will, papa," she answered, clinging to him with more than her usual warmth of affection. "Dear papa, what could I ever do without you to love me?"
"My darling, if it please the Lord, may we be long spared to each other," he whispered, clasping her close. "Now, good-night, and may He bless you, and keep you, and ever cause his face to shine upon you."
Elsie turned away with eyes full of tears, and her pillow was bedewed with them ere she slept that night. But the morning found her apparently her own bright, sunny self again.
She was in her mamma's dressing-room soon after breakfast, chatting with her and Adelaide, Mr. Dinsmore sitting by with Rosebud on his knee. Of course they were discussing the wedding, how lovely the bride and her attendants looked, how handsome the groom, how tasteful and becoming was the dress of this lady and that, how attentive was Mr. Such-an-one to Miss So-and-so, etc., etc. Rose making a little jesting allusion to "the devotion of a certain gentleman to Adelaide;" and saying how delighted she was; nothing could please her better than for them to fancy each other; when in the midst of it all, a servant came up with a message. "Mr. Travilla was in the drawing-room asking for Miss Dinsmore,—Miss Adelaide."
She went down at once, and as the door closed upon her, Rose turned to her husband with the laughing remark, "It would be a splendid match! they seem just made for each other. I wonder they didn't find it out long ago, and I begin to quite set my heart upon it."
"Better not, my dear, lest they disappoint you, and allow me to advise you to let match-making alone; 'tis a dangerous business. Elsie, my child, you are looking pale this morning; late hours do not agree with you. I think I shall have to take to sending you to bed at nine o'clock again, when once I get you home."
"Won't ten be early enough, papa?" she answered with a faint smile, a vivid color suddenly suffusing her cheek.
"Well, we will see about it. But I can't have you looking so. Go and put on your hat and shawl, and I will take you and mamma out for an airing?"
"Looking so?" said Rose, with an arch glance at the glowing cheeks, as she stooped to take Rosebud in her arms, "she is not pale now."
"No, certainly not," he said. "Come back, daughter," for Elsie had risen to obey his order, and was moving toward the door, "come here and tell me what ails you?"
"I am quite well, papa, only a little tired from last night, I believe," she answered, as he took her hands in his and looked searchingly into her face.
"I hope that is all," he said a little anxiously. "You must lie down and try to get a nap when we return from our drive; and remember you must be in bed by ten o'clock to-night."
"I shall do just as my father bids me," she said, smiling up at him, "my dear father who is so kindly careful of me." Then as he let go her hands, she tripped lightly from the room.
Mr. Travilla had come on an errand from his mother; she begged Adelaide's advice and assistance in a little shopping.
Adelaide was at leisure, and at once donned bonnet and shawl and went with him to the Girard House, where the old lady awaited their coming, and the three spent the remainder of the morning in attending to Mrs. Travilla's purchases and visiting the Academy of Fine Arts. In driving down Chestnut street, the Dinsmores passed them on their way to the Academy.
Adelaide did not return to Mr. Allison's to dinner, but Mr. Travilla called presently after, to say that she had dined with his mother and himself at the hotel, and would not return until bed-time, as they were all going to hear Gough lecture that evening.
He was speaking to Mrs. Allison. Several of the family were in the room, Elsie among them. She was slipping quietly away, when he turned toward her, saying: "Would you not like to go with us, my little friend? I think you would find it entertaining, and we would be glad to have you."
"Thank you, sir, you are very kind, but a prior engagement compels me to decline," she answered, glancing smilingly at her father.
"She has not been looking well to-day, and I have ordered her to go early to bed to-night," Mr. Dinsmore said.
"Ah, that is right!" murmured Mr. Travilla, rising to take leave.
The Travillas staid a week longer in the city. During that time Adelaide went out with them, quite frequently, but Elsie saw scarcely anything of her old friend; which was, however, all her own fault, as she studiously avoided him; much to his grief and disturbance. He could not imagine what he had done to so completely estrange her from him.
Mr. Dinsmore felt in some haste to be at home again, but Mrs. Allison pleaded so hard for another week that he consented to delay. Adelaide and Walter went with the Travillas, and wanted to take Elsie with them, but he would not hear of such an arrangement; while she said very decidedly that she could not think of being separated from her father.
She seemed gay and happy when with the family, or alone with him or Rose; but coming upon her unexpectedly in her dressing-room, the day after the others had left, he found her in tears.
"Why, my darling, what can be the matter?" he asked, taking her in his arms.
"Nothing, papa," she said, hastily wiping away her tears and hiding her blushing face on his breast—"I—I believe I'm a little homesick."
"Ah, then, why did you not ask to go with the others?"
"And leave you? Ah, do you not know that my father is more—a great deal more than half of home to me?" she answered,