"Our sentiments, exactly!" exclaimed the other two ladies in concert.
Hannah now entered and announced tea, and the trio of scrupulous, conscientious ladies repaired to the dining-room to luxuriate on short rolls and Mrs. Frye's neighborly doughnuts.
Mrs. Orville had a pleasant residence on the lake shore, and everything wore a brighter aspect in the eyes of the mother, since her beloved daughter had returned to enliven the old home by her sunshiny presence. But Alice had passed from the gay-hearted child to the thoughtful woman in the two years she had been away, and there was a mild, pensive light in her dark eye that spoke of a chastened spirit within. Still, she was usually cheerful, and always, even in her most melancholy hours, an agreeable companion. Beautiful in person, highly educated and accomplished, her conversation, whether tinged with sadness or enlivened by wit and humor, exercised a strange, fascinating power over her listeners.
Alice had left New Orleans with the expectation of having her cousin Josephine spend the ensuing winter with her at the north; but shortly after her arrival home a letter from her cousin informed her of their fallen fortunes, and proposed emigration to Texas. As Alice knew not to what part of that State to direct a reply, all further correspondence was broken off between the parties. From Wayland Morris she never heard, and knew naught concerning him, save by occasional articles from his pen in southern journals, which were noticed with commendation and applause. She tried hard to forget him; "for it is not right," she said, "to waste my life and health on one who never thinks of me. But why did he awaken a hope in my breast that he loved me, if that hope was to be withdrawn as soon as it became necessary to my happiness?"
"Alice, Alice!" exclaimed Mrs. Orville, as the fair girl stood in the recess of a vine-covered window, absorbed in thoughts like these, "Mr. Milder is coming through the gate; will you go out to receive him?"
Alice roused from her reverie, and saying "Yes, mother," very quietly, hastened through the hall to meet her visitor.
"Good-evening, Mr. Milder!" said she, with a graceful courtesy. "Come into the parlor. I have been laying the sin of ungallantry upon you for the last three days."
"It is the last charge I would have expected preferred against me by you, Miss Orville!" said he, smiling.
"What other would you sooner have expected?" she inquired, looping up the snowy muslin curtains to admit the parting sunbeams.
"One I would have dreaded far more to hear,—that of being too assiduous in my attendance," returned he, in a low tone.