“I have no fear of that,” she returned, smiling through her tears, “for though but a few weeks have passed since we first saw each other, you are well known to us through Uncle Dinsmore, Cousin Elsie, and others. I do not fear to trust you—oh, no, it is not that, but the leaving of the dear father and mother now—when they begin to grow old and may need a daughter’s care.”
“But they have other daughters?”
“Yes, but I am the eldest, and the one who would perhaps know best how to make them comfortable.”
“Well, dearest, let us leave that for the present. There is plenty of room at Roselands, and perhaps—should your father some day retire from business—they may like to come and make their home with us. If so, we shall be glad, very glad to have them.”
That was a word of comfort that chased Mary’s tears away, and the rest of their talk was gay and happy; the principal subject their plans for the immediate future.
“I ought to be going home,” remarked Calhoun at length, with a slight sigh, “though the fact is I don’t know how to tear myself away. But I must, for poor, overworked Art must have his turn. Ah, here’s a letter from him,” taking up one from the still unexamined, half-forgotten pile lying on the grass by his side.
Hastily tearing it open, he glanced over the contents. “Why, here is news!” he exclaimed. “Marian McAlpine has been quite ill, Art attending her; she’s convalescing, but needs change of climate and scene. Art has prescribed a few weeks at the sea-shore, and they are coming here—the whole four of them—Mr. Lilburn and his son, Miss Marian, and Art as her attending physician. I am commissioned to find a boarding-place for them. But what are they thinking of? They were to start the day after this was written, and will probably be here to-night or to-morrow. Oh, well, there are hotels in the town, and I must just hurry in there, make inquiries, and do the best I can for them.”
“Yes; let us go back to the house at once,” said Mary. “But ah, here comes Cousin Elsie,” she added, as they both rose and turned toward the dwelling.
“You had a letter from Art, I noticed, Calhoun,” said Mrs. Travilla, hastening toward them, “and I presume it brings the same news as this one from Cousin Ronald to me,” indicating one that she held in her hand. “He says Marian has been really very ill, but is convalescing, and they are bringing her here, thinking the sea-air may do her good. He says Arthur is coming along as her physician, but agrees with him that it is not at all necessary for you to hurry home, as Edward is able and willing to give some little attention to the workers on your plantation.”
“That is good news,” Calhoun said with a smile, “but I must hurry into the city and find a boarding-place for them.”