MILDRED AT ROSELANDS

A SEQUEL TO MILDRED KEITH

BY MARTHA FINLEY

NEW YORK DODD, MEAD AND COMPANY Publishers

Copyright, 1880, by Dodd, Mead & Company.

NOTE.

My story may seem to end somewhat abruptly; but is to be continued in a future volume. The date of this tale is about four years earlier than that of Elsie Dinsmore—the first of the Elsie Series—and any one who cares to know more of the little heiress of Viamede, will find the narrative of her life carried on in those books.

M. F.

[5]

Chapter First.

It was near noon of a bright warm day early in October. Mrs. Keith was alone in her pretty sitting-room, busily plying her needle at the open window looking out upon the river.

Occasionally she lifted her head and sent a quick, admiring glance at its bright, swiftly-flowing waters and the woods beyond, beautiful and gorgeous in their rich autumnal robes.

There was a drowsy hum of insects in the air; and mingling with it the cackle of a rejoicing hen, the crowing of a cock and other rural sounds; the prattle of childish voices too came pleasantly to her ear, from the garden behind the house where the little ones were at play, [6]calling, once and again, a tender, motherly smile to her lips.

Yet a slight cloud of care rested on her usually calm and placid features and thought seemed very busy in her brain.

It was of Mildred she was thinking. Father and mother both had noticed with a good deal of anxiety, that the young girl did not recover fully from the severe strain of the long weeks of nursing that had fallen to her lot during the past summer.

She was mush paler and thinner than her wont, had frequent headaches and seemed weak and languid, a very little exertion causing excessive fatigue.

Only last night they had lain awake an hour or more talking about it, and consulting together as to what could be done for the "dear child."

They feared the severity of the coming winter would increase her malady, and wished very much that they could send her away for some months, or a year, to a milder climate; but the difficulty—apparently an insuperable one—was to find means.

It took no small amount to feed, clothe and educate such a family as theirs, and sickness had made this year one of unusual expense.

[7]

As the loving mother sat there alone she had turned over in her mind plan after plan for accomplishing this, which for her child's good, she so ardently desired to do; but only to reject each in turn as utterly impracticable.

Aunt Wealthy, she knew, would gladly receive Mildred into her pleasant home for as long a time as her parents might be willing to spare her; but still there was the money to be provided for the journey, and besides a yet milder climate than that of Lansdale was desirable.

But the slight cloud lifted from Mrs. Keith's brow, and a sweet expression of perfect peace and content took its place as she bethought of her best Friend and His infinite love and power. He could clear away all these difficulties and would do so in answer to prayer, if in His unerring wisdom He saw that it would be for their real good—their truest happiness.

Her heart went up to him in a silent petition; and then a sweet, glad song of praise burst half unconsciously from her lips.

As she ceased a rap at the door into the hall—which as well as the outer one, stood wide open—caught her ear.

She turned her head to see a tall gentleman, a fine looking, middle-aged man standing there and regarding her with a pleased smile.

[8]

"Uncle Dinsmore! is it possible! Oh how glad I am to see you!" she cried, dropping her work and springing toward him with both hands extended.

He took them, drew her to him and kissing her affectionately, first on one cheek, then on the other, said gayly, "I flattered myself you would be, else I should not have traveled some hundreds of miles for the express purpose of paying you a visit. Fair and sweet as ever, Marcia! Time deals more gently with you than is his wont with the most of the world."

"Ah, I remember you as always given to pretty compliments," she returned, with a pleased, but half incredulous smile, as she drew forward the most comfortable chair in the room and made him seat himself therein, while she relieved him of his hat and cane.

"So I have taken you by surprise?" he said inquiringly and with a satisfied look.

"I did not even know you were at the North. When did you leave Roselands? Were they all well? Are any of them with you?"

"One question at a time, Marcia," he said with a good-humored laugh. "I left home in June, bringing all the family with me as far as Philadelphia. They are visiting now in eastern Pennsylvania. I went on to New York a [9]month ago to see Horace off for Europe, then concluded to come on into Ohio and Indiana, to have a look at this great western country, your Aunt Wealthy and yourself. I purpose spending a week or two with you, if quite convenient and agreeable, then to return, taking Lansdale in my way, and paying a short visit there."

"Convenient and agreeable!" she cried, with a joyous laugh, and glad tears shining in her eyes, "sunlight was never more welcome, and the longer you stay, the better. You came by the stage? Where is your luggage?"

"Yes, by the stage. My valise is—Ah!" half rising from his chair, with extended hand, as a handsome, intelligent looking lad of fifteen or sixteen, in working dress, but neat and clean, came in from the hall, carrying a valise.

"I found this on the porch," he began, but broke off abruptly at sight of the stranger.

"Rupert, our eldest son," said Mrs. Keith, with a glance full of motherly pride directed toward the lad. "Rupert, this is Uncle Dinsmore, your Cousin Horace's father."

The two shook hands warmly, Rupert saying, "I am very glad to see you, sir, I have heard mother speak of you so often."

The gentleman answering, "Thank you, my boy. Yes, your mother and I are very old [10]friends, though I am older than she, by a score of years or more."

"That must be your uncle's, Rupert, take it to the spare room," said Mrs. Keith, glancing at the valise.

"A fine looking fellow, but all Keith, isn't he, Marcia?" remarked her uncle, as the lad left the room. Then as Cyril bounded in at another door, "Ah! this one's a Stanhope! Come and shake hands with your uncle, my man."

Don and the two little girls were close behind Cyril, and these had scarcely been introduced, when Mr. Keith came in from his office, bringing with him Mildred, Zillah and Ada, whom he had met on the way.

Mr. Dinsmore was a stranger to them all, but every one seemed glad that he had come to visit them, and he was quite charmed with the cordiality of his reception, and the bright, intelligent faces, and refined manners of both parents and children.

They made him very welcome, very comfortable, and spared no exertion for his entertainment.

Being an observant man, he soon discovered that Mildred, toward whom he felt specially drawn from the first, was ailing, and immediately [11]proposed taking her home with him to spend the winter in the sunny South.

This was on the afternoon of the day succeeding that of his arrival, as he and Mr. and Mrs. Keith sat conversing together in the parlor, the young people having scattered to their work or play.

The father and mother exchanged glances, each reading in the other's face a longing desire to accept the invitation for their child, mingled with the sad conviction that it was impossible to do so.

This Mr. Keith presently put into words, accompanied with warm thanks for the intended kindness to Mildred.

"Tut, tut," said Mr. Dinsmore, "don't talk of kindness, the obligation will be on my part; and as to the impossibility, it is all in your imaginations. I, of course, shall bear all the expense of the journey, and—No, Marcia, don't interrupt me. I owe it to you, for I can never repay the kindness you showed your aunt in her last sickness, and to poor Horace and myself after she was gone. And you owe it to your child not to refuse for her what is really necessary to her restoration to health."

"Dear uncle, you are most kind, you must let me say it," said Mrs. Keith, with tears in [12]her eyes. "I will not deny that the expense is the greatest obstacle, for the family purse is low at present, and I will not let my pride stand in the way of the acceptance of your generous offer, but there are other difficulties. I do not see how I could get her ready in the few days to which you have limited your visit here."

"I'll stretch it to a fortnight, then, if that'll answer," he returned, in a short, quick, determined way, that bespoke him little used to opposition to his will. "Besides," he went on, "what need of so much preparation? purchases can be made to much better advantage in Philadelphia, and sewing done at Roselands, where we have two accomplished seamstresses among the servants. I've heard Mrs. Dinsmore boast that one of them can cut and fit, make and trim a dress as well as any mantuamaker she ever saw."

Mrs. Keith expressed a lively sense of his kindness, but suggested that in all probability Mrs. Dinsmore found plenty of employment for the two women in sewing for herself and family.

Her uncle scouted the idea, asserting that they had not enough to do to keep them out of mischief.

[13]

Mrs. Keith was driven from her last refuge of excuse, and truth to tell was not sorry to have it so. Mr. Keith gave consent, Mildred was summoned and the plan laid before her to her great astonishment and delight.

"Oh, Uncle Dinsmore, how kind!" she exclaimed, her cheeks flushing, her eyes sparkling. "It seems too good to be true, that I shall see Roselands, the beautiful place mother has so often described to us! But no, no, it will never do for me to go and leave mother to bear the cares and burdens of housekeeping and the children all alone!" she cried with sudden change of tone. "How could I be so selfish as to think of it for a single moment. Mother dear, I don't want to go, indeed I do not."

"But my dear child, I want you to go," Mrs. Keith said, smiling through unshed tears. "You need rest and change of scene; and though I shall miss you sadly, I shall enjoy the thought that you are gaining in many ways, and in the prospect of soon having you at home again."

"Yes," said Mr. Dinsmore, "travel is improving, and you can go on with your studies at Roselands if you fancy doing so: we have an excellent, thoroughly educated lady as governess, and masters coming from the city twice a [14]week to give instruction in music and drawing. You shall share their attentions if you will.

"Come, it is not worth while to raise objections; for I can overrule them all, and am quite determined to carry my point.

"Mr. Keith," he added, rising and looking about for his hat, "suppose we take a walk round the town, leaving the ladies to talk over the necessary arrangements."

The gentlemen went out together, but the next moment Mr. Dinsmore stepped back again to hand Mrs. Keith a letter, saying, as he did so,

"I owe you an apology, Marcia, for my forgetfulness. Horace entrusted this to my care and it should have been given you immediately on my arrival. Au revoir, ladies!" and with a courtly bow he was gone.

Mrs. Keith broke the seal and unfolded the sheet. There was an enclosure, but she did not look at it until she had read the note, which she did almost at a glance, for it was plainly written and very brief.

Dear Marcia.—Excuse a hasty line, as I am going aboard the steamer which is to carry me to Europe.

"I know my father wants to take Mildred with him on his return to Roselands. I hope [15]you will let her go, and that you will do me the great kindness of accepting the enclosed trifle, to be used in providing her with an outfit such as you may deem suitable. It is a very small part of the debt I have owed you ever since the death of my loved mother.

Your affectionate cousin, Horace Dinsmore."

"The dear generous fellow!" she exclaimed, tears starting to her eyes: then as she unfolded the bank note, "A trifle, indeed! Mildred, child, it is a hundred dollars!" and the tears rolled down her cheeks.

"But you will not take it, mother, surely!" said Mildred, her cheeks flushing hotly; her pride up in arms at once at the thought of coming under such an obligation, even to a relative.

"My child," said Mrs. Keith, "I could not bear to hurt him as I well know he would be hurt by a rejection of his kindness. We will accept it: if not as a gift, as a loan to be repaid some day when we are able. Another reason why I feel that we ought not to let pride lead us to refuse this, is that it seems to have come—it and your uncle's invitation also—so directly in answer to prayer."

[16]

She went on to tell Mildred of their anxiety in regard to her, and in particular of the petitions she had been putting up on her behalf, just before Mr. Dinsmore's arrival.

"Ah!" she said in conclusion, "how good is our God! He has fulfilled to me his gracious promise, 'And it shall come to pass, that before they call, I will answer, and while they are yet speaking, I will hear.'"

A moment's silence, then Mildred said in half tremulous tones, "Oh, it is a blessed thing to trust in God! I hope my faith will grow to be as strong as yours, mother, and I hope I am thankful for this money, but—mother, am I very wicked to feel it something of a trial to have to take it?"

"I hope not," Mrs. Keith answered, with a smile and a sigh, "I do not want to see my children too ready to take help from others. I trust they will always prefer any honest work by which they may earn their bread, to a life of luxury and ease and dependence. That they will always remember the command, 'Every man shall bear his own burden' but, since we are also told to bear one another's burdens, and that it is more blessed to give than to receive, I must believe there are cases where it is right, yes, even a duty, to accept [17]some assistance from those who give freely and gladly, and from their abundance, as I know Cousin Horace does."

"Well, I must try not to be so selfish as to grudge him his blessedness," remarked Mildred, playfully, though tears still shone in her eyes. "But, mother, how are you to do without me?"

"Oh, very nicely! Zillah and Ada are growing very helpful, Annie is no longer a mere baby, and—why, there is Celestia Ann!" she exclaimed joyously, suddenly breaking off her sentence, as a casual glance through a window showed her the tall, muscular figure of their former and most efficient maid-of-all-work coming in at the gate.

"Oh! if she has only come to stay, I shall feel as if I can be spared," cried Mildred, "Mother, how strangely difficulties are being taken out of the way."

[18]

Chapter Second.

Celestia Ann had come to stay if wanted, of which in her secret soul she had no doubt; want of self-appreciation not being one of her failings—she knew her own value quite as well as did any one else.

"If you've got a girl, and don't want me," she remarked, upon announcing her errand, "it don't make no difference; I'm not perticler about workin' out this fall; if I was there's places enough; though I am free to own I feel a leetle more at home here than anywheres else, and set great store by you all."

"We have a girl," said Mrs. Keith, "but she leaves us in another week, and in the meanwhile, I shall be glad to have two, as Mildred and I will be very busy with the preparations for her journey."

"Journey! is she goin' off? 'taint on her weddin' trip, is it? I heerd there was talk of [19]her gettin' married, and I said then I was bound to have a finger in that pie—makin' the weddin' cake."

"Oh, no, she's quite too young for that yet," Mrs. Keith said, with a slight smile, "she's only going South on a visit to some relations."

"And I want you to promise to stay and take care of mother till I come back, Celestia Ann," added Mildred.

"Well, you've got to promise first that you'll not stay forever," prudently stipulated Miss Hunsinger. "When do you 'low to come back?"

"Next spring."

"H'm! well, I don't mind engagin' for that length of time, provided my folks at home keeps well, so's I'm not needed there."

"Then it's a bargain?" queried Mildred joyously.

"Yes, I reckon."

And Celestia Ann hung up her sun-bonnet behind the kitchen door, and set to work at once with her wonted energy, while Mrs. Keith and Mildred withdrew to the bedroom of the latter to examine into the condition of her wardrobe, and consult as to needed repairs and additions.

[20]

They quickly decided that no new dresses should be purchased, and very little shopping of any kind done until her arrival in Philadelphia, as she could of course buy to much better advantage there, and learn what were the prevailing fashions, before having the goods made up.

Mrs. Keith had never made dress a matter of primary importance with herself or with her children, yet thought it well enough to conform to the fashions sufficiently to avoid being conspicuous for singularity of attire.

"We must give thought enough to the matter to decide how our clothes are to be made," she said, "and it is easier to follow the prevailing style than to contrive something different for ourselves; provided it be pretty and becoming; for I think it a duty we owe our friends to look as well as we can."

And on this principle she was desirous that Mildred's dress should be entirely suitable to her age and station, handsome and fashionable enough to ensure her against being an eyesore and annoyance to Mrs. Dinsmore, whose guest she was to be.

"The fashions are so slow in reaching these western towns that I know we must be at least a year or two behind," she remarked in a lively [21]tone, as she turned over and examined Mildred's best dress—a pretty blue black silk, almost as good as new. "That doesn't trouble me so long as we are at home; but I don't want you to look outré to our relations and their friends, because that would be a mortification to them as well as to yourself. So though this is perfectly good, I think it will be best to try to match it and have it remodeled."

"Mother," said Mildred, "when it comes to buying dresses for myself how I shall miss you! I'm afraid I shall make some sad mistakes."

The young girl looked really troubled and anxious as she spoke and her mother answered in a kindly reassuring tone,

"I am not afraid to trust to your taste or judgment, so you need not be."

"But I shall not know where to go to find what I want, or whether the price asked is a fair one."

"Well, my dear child, even these trifling cares and anxieties we may carry to our kind heavenly Father, feeling sure that so a way will be provided out of the difficulty. Probably your aunt or uncle, or some other friend, will go with you."

The mother's tone was so cheerful and confident that Mildred caught her spirit and [22]grew gay and light-hearted over her preparations.

Although the dressmaking was deferred, there was still enough to be done in the few days of the allotted time, to keep both mother and daughter very busy; which was just as well, as it left them no leisure to grieve over the approaching separation.

The news that she was going so far away and to be absent so long, created some consternation in the little coterie to which Mildred belonged.

Claudina Chetwood and Lu Grange declared themselves almost inconsolable, while Wallace Ormsby was privately of the opinion that their loss was as nothing compared to his.

Months ago he had decided that life would be a desert without Mildred to share it with him; but he had never found courage to tell her so, for he feared the feeling was not reciprocated—that she had only a friendly liking for him.

He had hoped to win her heart in time, but now the opportunity was to be taken from him and given to others. It was not a cheerful prospect; and Mildred was so busy there seemed no chance of getting a word alone with her.

"My mother tells me you are going away, [23]Mildred, on a long journey and for a lengthened stay?" Mr. Lord remarked inquiringly, and with a regretful tone in his voice, as he shook hands with her after the weekly evening service.