“He is quite out of danger, and is getting well fast.”
“Thank Heaven for that! I should never have got over his death if he had died, the dear little hero! But—he was in danger?”
“Oh, yes. However, that is quite past. I saw him this morning. I went to see him every day, for your sake, Elfie.”
“Heaven bless you for that, dear! Erminie, were you very anxious about me when I didn’t get home that night?”
“I was uneasy,” replied the Lutheran minister’s daughter, who was by no means “gushing,” and never exaggerated her emotions. “I was uneasy: but I thought you must have decided to prolong your excursion, and I knew you were with a large party, well able to protect you.”
“Umph—umph!” said Elfie, who was slightly disappointed in not having created a greater sensation. “Umph—umph! But next day, when the excursionists got back, bringing little Mim with his skull fractured, and the news that I had been carried off by guerrillas! How then, Erminie?”
“I was very much shocked, and very anxious at first; and I called on some of the ladies to learn the facts. And when I discovered that it was your cousin and old adorer, Albert Goldsborough, who had carried you off, I felt reassured.”
“Upon what ground, if one might inquire?” demanded Elfie, rather piqued at her friend’s self-possession.
“Upon that of a certainty that Albert Goldsborough would allow no injury to be done you. I foresaw that he would detain you in a sort of honorable captivity for a while, and use all his influence and eloquence to induce or persuade you to marry him; and that when he should fail to do so, he would send you back to your home, as he has apparently done.”
“Indeed! Well, you have a good deal to learn from me yet, Erminie,” said Elfie.