Mildred and Elsie

"Especially one so weak and ready to wander out of the way as I," sighed the young girl.

"Well, darling, you are young enough to wait; and let us hope all will come right at length. Ah! we may be sure of it, for 'we know that all things work together for good to them that love God; to them who are the called according to his purpose.' But it is growing late, and you ought to be resting after your long journey." And with a tender good-night they parted.

Mr. Lord filled his own pulpit the next day, both morning and evening, preaching with acceptance to his flock.

Mildred attended both services, but carefully avoided meeting the speaker's eye during the sermon, and slipped out of the church as quickly as possible after the benediction was pronounced. Each time she was delayed a little in her exit by the necessity of stopping for a shaking of hands and the exchange of a few words with friends and neighbors who stepped forward to greet and welcome her home; but others were crowding about the minister with the same kindly intent, and thus unconsciously assisted in her desired avoidance of him.

She was little less anxious to escape Wallace Ormsby, but in that was not so successful: he walked by her side in the morning, as far as their roads lay in the same direction; yet as Don held fast to one of Mildred's hands and Fan to the other, his talk was only on topics of general interest, the sermon, the Sunday-school, etc.

In the evening, as she stepped into the vestibule, she saw Wallace waiting near the outer door, and read his purpose in his eyes. She turned to Zillah, who was close beside her, seized her hand, and, holding it fast, whispered in her ear, "We'll walk home together. Be sure to keep close to me."

Zillah nodded with a roguish smile, and, to Wallace's no small annoyance, did as requested. Offering one arm to Mildred, he could do no less than ask Zillah to take the other, which she did with alacrity. And all the way home she kept up a constant stream of talk, Mildred listening with inward amusement, Wallace wondering whether it was with a purpose, and wishing she was somewhere out of earshot of what he wanted to say to her sister.

The Keiths neither paid nor received visits on the Sabbath: so he bade the girls good evening at their father's door, and quietly wended his way to his lonely bachelor quarters over the office; while the girls, listening to his departing footsteps, exchanged a few words of congratulation on the one side and thanks on the other, mingled with a little girlish laughter at his expense.

"Mother," said Mildred, as they were about separating for the night, "I will be up in good season to-morrow morning and get breakfast, as Celestia Ann will of course be busy with her washing."

"Indeed you'll do no such thing," cried Zillah. "Ada and I will get breakfast and dinner to-morrow, and you're not to so much as put your nose into the kitchen. You're to play lady for a week at least, while you look on and see how nicely we can manage without you."

"I've played lady long enough, and – "

"Mother, isn't it to be as I've said?" demanded Zillah, not giving Mildred time to conclude her sentence.

"Yes, Milly, you and I can find enough to do out of the kitchen for the present, and we will let these young cooks have a chance to show what they can do," Mrs. Keith said, looking from one to the other with a proud, fond, motherly smile.

"I like to cook," put in Ada. "Milly, I can make nice cakes and desserts; they all say so. And Zillah and I made pickles and preserves this fall, mother only overseeing and telling us how. Celestia Ann wanted to turn us out of the kitchen and do it all herself, but mother said no – we must learn how."

Monday morning found the Keith household like a hive of cheerful, busy bees. Mrs. Keith and Mildred, busied together in the dining-room, washing and putting away the breakfast china and silver, which were never allowed to go into the kitchen, laid plans for the fall and winter sewing.

"I have been learning to cut and fit, mother," Mildred said; "taking lessons of one of Aunt Dinsmore's servants who is excellent at it; so now, if you like, I shall fit all the dresses of the family, beginning to-day with Ada's and Zillah's calicoes."

"I'm very glad, my dear," Mrs. Keith replied, "for really there is not a competent dressmaker in town. But I see I shall have to take care that you do not overwork yourself," she added, with an affectionate smile.

"Mother," said Zillah, putting her head in at the door, "we're nearly out of salt and sugar both. Who shall go for them?"

"Cyril and Don; it is a lovely day, and they will enjoy the walk. Mildred, there will be some little articles wanted about our dressmaking; suppose you go also and select them. The walk will be good for you, and you will like to see how the town has grown in your absence."

Fan and Annis put in an eager plea to be permitted to be of the party.

Mildred demurred. "I'm afraid, Annis, darling, you can't walk fast enough. Sister Milly wants to come back quickly because of the sewing."

"Never mind that; we will not deprive the darling of so great a pleasure merely to save a few minutes," the mother said, with a loving smile at the little, disappointed face, which instantly grew bright again. "Linger a little on the way, Mildred, and enjoy the sweet air and the beauty of the woods. These things were given for our enjoyment."

"Dearest mother! always so kind and thoughtful for each one of us," Mildred whispered, bending over her mother's chair to kiss the still fresh and blooming cheek.

Mildred had returned to her home entirely restored to health, and full of the old energy, and with a desire to accomplish a great deal in the way of relieving her mother's cares and burdens and promoting the material interests of each member of the family of loved ones. She had planned to do a certain amount of sewing that day, and was eager to begin; but she was learning the difficult lesson of readiness to cheerfully yield her own plans and wishes to those of others, remembering that "even Christ pleased not himself."

With a face bright and sweet as the lovely October morning she made herself ready and set out on her errand; Fan clinging to one hand, Annis to the other, while the two little brothers now brought up the rear, now hastened on in front, or trotted alongside, as inclination dictated.

"Yonder comes the sheriff; we'll meet him in a minute," said Cyril presently.

"Who is sheriff now?" asked Mildred.

"Gotobed Lightcap. He's learned to write with his left hand, and they 'lected him sheriff last week. Everybody voted for him because they were so sorry for him. Wasn't it nice? Mother says the folks in this town are the kindest people in the world, she thinks."

"Yes, it was nice and kind," Mildred responded, looking a little curiously at the tall, broad-shouldered, masculine figure approaching from the opposite direction. In dress, in gait, in the intelligence of his countenance, he was an improvement upon the Gotobed of two years ago.

In another moment they had met. He lifted his hat with his left hand and bowed a little awkwardly, while a deep-red flush suffused his swarthy face.

Mildred colored slightly too, but greeted him cordially and without any other show of embarrassment, inquiring after his health and that of his family.

"We're all as well as common, thank ye, Miss Keith," he said, devouring her face with his eyes, "and I hope you're the same, and as glad to git back as all your friends is to see ye."

"Thank you, I do find it nice to be at home again," she responded, bowing and passing on.

Their way lay past her father's office. Ormsby, looking up from the deed he was drawing and catching a glimpse of her graceful figure as it hurried by, sprang up and stepped to the door just in time to see her go into Chetwood & Mocker's.

He was on the watch for her as she came out again, and waylaid her with an invitation to drive out with him that afternoon.

"Thank you," she said, with a winsome smile; "I fully appreciate your kindness, but – don't you think, after my long vacation, I ought now to stay at home and work? I had planned to do a good deal of sewing to-day."

"But the weather is so fine, and we ought to take advantage of these lovely days, which will so soon be gone," he said persuasively. "Let the sewing wait; 'twill be just the thing for the stormy days that will soon be upon us. I may come for you?"

"Yes," she answered, laughing and nodding good-by.

Zillah met her at the door, her eyes dancing with fun. "Mr. Lord's in the parlor with mother, and you're wanted there too."

"Oh, dear!" sighed Mildred; but, throwing off her hat in the hall, she went at once to meet the dreaded ordeal.

The gentleman rose on her entrance, and with beaming eyes and outstretched hand came eagerly forward to greet her. "My dear Miss Mildred, I have been telling your mother of my plans and wishes, and asking her consent and approval of my – the proposal I made to you the other day; and – "

"And she has declined to give them?" Mildred said, allowing him to take her hand for an instant, then hastily withdrawing it, her eyes seeking her mother's face, while her own flushed crimson.

"Yes, I have been trying for the last half hour to convince Mr. Lord how entirely unsuitable you are for the place and position he offers you," Mrs. Keith answered in a grave, quiet tone. "Come and sit down here by me," making room for her on the sofa by her side, "and we will try together to convince him."

"That will be no easy task," remarked the middle-aged lover, as Mildred hastened to accept her mother's invitation; then, standing before them and fixing his eyes admiringly upon the blushing, downcast face of the maiden, he went on to plead his cause with all the force and eloquence of which he was master.

He spoke very rapidly, as if fearful of interruption, and determined to forestall all objections, Mildred listening in some embarrassment and with much inward disgust and impatience.

These changed directly to almost overpowering mirthfulness, as the man, perhaps finding his false teeth, to which he was yet not fully accustomed, impeding his speech to some extent, in his intense interest in his subject, hardly conscious of the act, jerked them out, twirled them about in his fingers for an instant, then with a sudden recollection thrust them in again, his face turning scarlet with mortification and the last word faltering on his tongue.

Controlling her inclination to laugh, Mildred seized her opportunity. "Mr. Lord," she said, with gentle firmness, "please do not waste any more words on this subject, for I have no other answer to give you to-day than that which I gave before. Nor shall I ever have any other. I highly respect and esteem you, feel myself greatly honored by your preference, but – it is utterly out of my power to feel toward you as a woman should toward the man with whom she links her destiny for life."

With the last word she rose and would have left the room, but he intercepted her. "Not now, I suppose. Ah, my foolish impatience, which has a second time betrayed me! But I will wait – wait years, if – "

"It is useless, quite useless, I assure you," she interrupted, in some impatience. "To convince you of that, I will acknowledge that – that my heart has already been given to another."

Hiding her blushing face in her hands, she hurried from the room, leaving to her mother the task of consoling the rejected suitor.

Mrs. Keith afterward reported that he stood for a moment as if struck dumb with surprise and dismay; then muttering, "Wallace Ormsby – it must be he," was rushing bare-headed from the house, when she called him back and gave him his hat, with a consolatory word or two, which he did not seem to hear, as he merely turned about without replying, and walked rapidly away with the hat in his hand.

Mildred, hurrying to the privacy of her own room with cheeks aflame and an indignant light in her brown eyes, found herself intercepted by Zillah.

"Good girl not to say yes," cried the latter gayly, putting her arm round Mildred's neck and kissing her.

"What do you mean, Zillah? You don't know anything about it," Mildred said, repulsing her slightly and averting her face.

"Yes, I do. Mr. Lord's been asking you to marry him – I knew by his looks that that was what he came for – and I'm glad you won't have him. He's nice enough as a minister, but too old and ugly and awkward for a husband for my pretty sister Milly. Wallace Ormsby would be far more suitable, in my humble opinion," she added, with a merry twinkle in her deep blue eyes.

Mildred looked at her and took a sudden resolution. "Come in here," she said, pushing open her room door. "Zillah, can you keep a secret?"

"Suppose you try me," was the laughing rejoinder.

"I will. I am sure I may trust you."

So Zillah presently knew how matters stood between her sister and Charlie Landreth, and Mildred felt that she had another hearty sympathizer, and was safe from any more teasing about Wallace Ormsby from that quarter.

As for the latter, he of course improved his chance as they drove together that afternoon over the prairies and through the beautiful autumn woods; and Mildred had the painful task of crushing his hopes as she had already crushed those of her older admirer.

CHAPTER VII

"A mighty pain to love it is,And 'tis a pain that pain to miss;But of all pains, the greatest painIt is to love, but love in vain."Cowley.

"O Wallace, forgive me! Not for worlds would I have hurt you so if – if I could have helped it." Mildred's voice was full of tears, and she ended with a sigh that was half a sob.

His head was turned away so that she could not catch so much as a glimpse of his face.

"It is just what I expected when you went away," he answered huskily; "but I don't blame you. I've always known I wasn't half good enough for such a girl as you."

"No, don't say that!" she cried, almost eagerly; "you are good enough for anybody, Wallace; you are noble and true and brave; and father says that with your talent and industry you are sure to make your mark in the world."

"What do I care for that now?" he returned bitterly. "You have been my inspiration, Mildred; it was for you – to win you and to make you rich and happy – that I have studied and toiled and planned, and now you are lost to me!" he groaned.

"O Wallace!" she murmured softly, "I had hoped yours was a higher ambition – that you had consecrated your time, talents, everything, to Him who gave them, and whose love is better beyond comparison than any or all earthly loves."

"You are right," he said, after a moment's silence, and his voice was low and humble, "it ought to be so; it shall be so henceforward. But – O Mildred, Mildred, what happiness can there be in life without you!"

"I will be your sister, Wallace; I have a real sisterly affection for you."

"I ought to be thankful for even that – I shall be some day; but O Mildred! now it seems like giving me a crumb when I am starving – so famished that nothing less than a whole loaf will relieve the dreadful pain. And this other fellow that has won you away from me – will he – will he be taking you away from us soon?"

"No, Wallace, not soon, perhaps never," she answered in low, quivering tones.

He turned and faced her with an inquiring look. "I have misunderstood. I thought you said the – the affection was mutual."

"I will tell you all about it," she said after a moment's embarrassed silence. "I think I owe you the confidence as some slight amends for the pain I have unwillingly caused you."

Then in a few words she told him just how matters stood between Charlie Landreth and herself, withholding only the name of her favored suitor.

When she had finished, silence fell between them for many minutes. Mildred's eyes were cast down, Wallace's gazing straight before him or taking note of the inequalities of the road. They were nearing the town when at last he spoke again.

"I thank you for your confidence, dear Mildred, (you will let me call you that this once?) You know I shall never abuse it. I am sorry for your sake that he is not all you could wish. But don't let it make you unhappy. I couldn't bear that. And I hope and believe it will all come right in the end."

"Wallace, how good and noble you are!" she cried, looking at him with eyes brimming with tears. "We will always be friends – good, true friends, shall we not?" she asked, almost beseechingly, holding out her hand to him.

He caught it in his and pressed it to his lips with a low, passionate cry, "O Mildred! and can I never be more than that to you!"

An hour later Mrs. Keith found her eldest daughter in her own room, crying bitterly.

"My dear child! what is the matter?" she asked in concern.

"O mother, mother, I seem to have been born to make others unhappy!" sobbed Mildred.

"I have often thought you were born to be the great comfort and blessing of your mother's life, and have thanked God with my whole heart for this his good gift to me," the mother responded, with a loving caress; and a glad smile broke like sunlight through the rain of tears.

"Mother, what a blessed comforter you are!" sighed Mildred, resting her wet cheek on her mother's shoulder. "Mother, Wallace loves me and seems almost heart-broken because I – I cannot return it. And he is such a dear, noble fellow, too – worthy of a far better wife than I would make!"

"We must try to convince him of that, and make him glad of his fortunate escape," Mrs. Keith said in her playful tone.

Mildred laughed in spite of herself, but a little hysterically; then growing grave again: "But, mother, he does really seem heart-broken, and it is dreadful to me to have caused such suffering to one so deserving of happiness."

"I do not doubt it, my dear, and I feel for you both; but trouble does not spring from the ground; all our trials are sent us, for some good purpose, by that best and dearest of all friends, who knows just what each one of us needs, and never makes a mistake. I am sorry for you both, but I do not think either is to blame, and I believe you will come out of the trial better and happier Christians than you would ever have been without it.

"Now, dear child, I shall leave you, that you may be able to spend a few minutes with that best Friend before joining us downstairs. Try to cast all your care on Him, because he bids you do so, and because it is for your happiness."

Mildred followed the kind, wise advice; then, having done what she could to remove the traces of her tears, hastened to join the family at the tea-table in answer to the bell.

Her mother adroitly contrived to take the attention of the others from her, and no one noticed that she had been weeping.

The faces and the chat were cheerful and bright, as was almost invariably the case in that family circle, and the joy of being among them again after so long an absence soon restored Mildred to her wonted serenity.

They discussed their plans for study and work for the coming fall and winter months. The town was still destitute of a competent teacher; efforts had been made to procure one from the Eastern States, but as yet without success; therefore Mildred proposed to resume her duties as governess to her younger brothers and sisters: she could assist Rupert, too, in some branches, and wished to perfect herself in some, and to improve her mind by a course of reading.

Then, as always, there was the family sewing, beside various housekeeping cares of which she desired to relieve her mother.

Zillah listened with a mirthful look to Mildred's long list, and at its conclusion asked, with a merry laugh, "Is that all, Milly?"

Mildred echoed the laugh, and blushingly acknowledged that it was very much easier to plan than to execute, and she feared she should fall very far short of accomplishing all she desired.

"Yes," said her father, "but it is best to aim high, for we are pretty sure never to do more than we lay out for ourselves, or even so much."

"But if Milly undertakes all the work, father, what are Ada and I to do?" queried Zillah, in a sprightly tone.

"She'll be glad enough before long to let us help with it," remarked Ada quietly. "If she'd had breakfast and dinner to get to-day she couldn't have walked out this morning; and I don't think she could have taken time to drive out this afternoon if she had been the only one to help mother with the sewing."

"No, that is quite true," said Mildred, smiling at Ada's serious face, "and I'm delighted to find what helpful girls you two have become, for there is abundance of work for us all."

"Enough to leave us no excuse for idleness," added the mother, "but not so much that any one of us need feel overburdened; for 'many hands make light work.'"

"Especially when the head manager knows how to bring system to her aid," concluded Mr. Keith, with an affectionate, appreciative glance at his wife.

"Yes," she rejoined brightly, "very little can be accomplished without that, but with it I think we shall do nicely."

The little ones were asking when lessons were to begin.

"To-morrow, if mother approves," answered Mildred.

Her father smiled approval, remarking, "Promptness is one of Mildred's virtues; one we may all cultivate with profit."

"I quite agree with you, Stuart," Mrs. Keith said, "and yet it is sometimes best to make haste slowly. Mildred, my child, you have had a long, wearisome journey, and may lawfully rest for at least this one week."

"And we all need our new clothes made up," remarked Ada. "Mother, have Milly make your black silk dress first."

Mildred and Zillah chimed in at once, "Oh yes! certainly mother's dress must be the very first thing to be attended to."

"I can fit it to-night," said Mildred.

"And I cut off the skirt and run the breadths together," added Zillah.

"Come, come, you are entirely too fast," laughed Mrs. Keith. "I will not have any one of you trying her eyes with sewing on black at night. We will all work this evening on the calicoes begun to-day, and Milly shall fit a calico for me before she tries her hand on the silk. But we will give this week to sewing and reading. Cyril can read nicely now, and he and Rupert shall take turns reading aloud to us. Lessons shall begin next Monday."

Aside from her desire to be as helpful as possible to her dear ones, Mildred felt that constant employment for head and hands was the best earthly antidote for her present griefs and anxieties. So she plunged into study and work, and gave herself little time for thought about anything else, and her mother, understanding her motive, not only did not oppose, but encouraged her in that course.

Some new books she had brought in her trunk proved a rare treat to the entire family, and work, enlivened now by the reading of these and now by cheerful chat, was decidedly enjoyable.

There were many calls, too, from old friends and acquaintances, and so the week slipped away very quickly and pleasantly.

Saturday's mail brought Mildred a letter from Charlie Landreth, which gave her both pain and pleasure.

The ardent love to her that breathed in every line sent a thrill of joy to her heart; yet it bled for him in his deep grief for the loss of his sister; grief unassuaged by the consolations of God.

Her prayers for him went up with increased fervor. Earnestly, importunately, she besought the Lord to comfort him in this great sorrow, and to make it the means of leading him to a saving knowledge of Christ Jesus.

Then she sat down and answered his letter with one that through all its maidenly modesty and reserve breathed a tender sympathy that was as balm to his wounds, a cordial to his fainting spirit, when at length it reached him.

Mildred desired to have no secrets from her wise and dearly-loved mother; both Charlie's letter and her own were carried to her, and the latter submitted to her approval ere it went on its mission of consolation.

This communication from him whose love found a response in her own heart did good service in banishing from her mind, in great measure, disturbing thought about the other two.

For some weeks they absented themselves from the house, then gradually resumed their former intimacy with the family, Mildred meeting them, when compelled by circumstance, without embarrassment, but avoiding a meeting when she could without seeming to do so purposely.