Elsies Womanhood | Page 5

many years I have loved you as my own child, and now I am to
have you. How bright our home will be, Edward. But we are darkening
another. Her father; can he--has he----"
"He has given her to me," answered the son quickly, "and she has--we
have given ourselves to each other. Let me give an arm to each of you

and we will go into the house."
* * * * *
The veranda at the Oaks was deserted, and the house very quiet, though
lights still shone here and there, as Mr. Travilla and Elsie rode up and
dismounted on their return from Ion.
A servant rose from the grass, where he had been lying at his ease;
came forward and led away his young mistress's pony, while the lover
bade her a tender good-night, sprang into the saddle again, and
presently disappeared, lost to view amid the trees and the windings of
the road, though the sound of horse's hoofs still came faintly to Elsie's
ear as she stood intently listening, a sweet smile irradiating every
feature.
Absorbed in her own thoughts, and in the effort to catch those
fast-retreating sounds, she did not hear a step approaching from behind;
but an arm encircled her waist, and a low-breathed "My darling" woke
her from her reverie.
She looked up, her eyes beaming with affection; "Papa; I am rather late,
am I not?"
"Not very. Hark! the clock is but just striking ten. Come, let us sit down
here for a little. We have hardly had a chat together to-day." He sighed
slightly as he drew her closer to him.
"No, papa dear, there has been so much company," she answered,
laying her head on his shoulder. "And----"
"And what?" as she paused. "Your father used to know all that
concerned you one way or the other. Is he to be shut out from your
confidence now? Ah, I think he must have been for some time past."
"I could not tell you that, papa," she murmured, blushing visibly in the
moonlight. "Indeed, I hardly knew it myself till----"

"Till when?"
"The night of Sophie's wedding."
"Ah!" he said, musingly; "but I cannot get over my surprise; he is your
senior by so many years, and you have known him from childhood and
looked upon him as a sort of uncle. I wonder at your choice."
"But you don't object, papa?"
"No, if I must give you away--and I've always known that would come
some time--I would rather it should be to him than any one else, for I
can never doubt that he will be tender and true to my precious one,
when she leaves her father's home for his."
"Papa, papa, don't speak of it," she cried, winding her arms about his
neck, "I can't bear to think of it; that our home will no longer be the
same, that I can't come to you every night and be folded to your heart
as I have been ever since I was a little girl."
"Well, dearest," he said, after a moment, in which he held her very
close and caressed her with exceeding tenderness, "we shall not be far
apart or miss passing some time together many days of the year. And
you are not in haste to leave me?"
"Oh, no, no! why should I be? Please keep me a little while yet."
"I intend to: it will take at least a year to get used to the thought of
doing without you, and so long Travilla must be content to wait. Nor
can we give you up wholly even then; your suite of rooms shall still be
yours, and you must come now and then and occupy them for days or
weeks at a time.
"Now, daughter, good-night. Come to me to-morrow morning in my
study, soon after breakfast, I have something more of importance to say
to you."
"I shall obey, and without fear," she answered gayly, "though I

remember once being quite frightened at a similar order; but that was
when I was a silly little girl and didn't know how dearly my own papa
loved me."
"And when he was strangely stern to his own little child," he answered,
with another tender caress.
CHAPTER THIRD.
"So fair that had you beauty's picture took, It must like her, or not like
beauty look." --ALLEYN'S HENRY VII.
Elsie paused at the half-open door of her father's private room.
Mr. Dinsmore, like most men, was fond of light and air; through the
wide open windows the morning breeze stole softly in, laden with
sweets from garden and lawn, and the rich carpet of oak and green was
flecked with gold where the sunbeams came shimmering down between
the fluttering leaves of a beautiful vine that had