"Not at all," she returned, with a smile, "it is just what I was intending to do. I have a slight headache, but hope to sleep it off."
"I hope you may, indeed," he said in a kindly, sympathetic tone. "I presume it is the result of fatigue and that a few hours of rest and sleep will make all right again."
She went at once to her state-room, and changing her dress for a loose wrapper lay down with the determination to forget everything in sleep. But thought was too busy in her brain; she was too much excited over the surprising offer made her that morning. She knew instinctively that Mr. Lilburn had not given up the hope of securing what he had asked for—that his suit would be renewed at the first opportunity—and what should she—what could she say? It was not the first offer she had had, but—no other suitor was ever so good, so noble, so—oh, he was everything one could ask or desire (what difference that he was old enough to be her father), but would his sons welcome her advent into the family? And her own dear ones—sisters, brothers, nieces, and nephews—be willing to part with her. Perhaps not; but surely they could do very well without her and he—the dear old gentleman—ought surely to be considered; if she could make his last days happier and more comfortable—it could not be wrong for her to do so, for the others could be happy without her. Ah, perhaps they would soon almost forget her. And there with Elsie Travilla her dear, dearest friend and cousin; how pleasant to live near enough for almost daily intercourse with her!
"I will ask for guidance," she finally said half aloud, and, rising, knelt beside her couch, earnestly beseeching her best friend to make her way plain before her face, to lead and guide her all her journey through. Then, calmed and quieted by casting her burden on the Lord, she lay down again and presently fell into a deep, sweet sleep. She was awakened by a gentle tap on the door, then Violet's voice asking:
"Can I come in for one moment, Cousin Annis?" At that she rose and opened the door, saying.
"Indeed you can, Vi. But what—who——?" as Violet handed her a bunch of Scotch heather, her eyes dancing with mirth and pleasure as she did so, for at the sight of the flowers a crimson flush had suddenly suffused Annis' cheek.
"You see what," she said, "and the who is Cousin Ronald. Oh, Cousin Annis, I am so glad if only you won't reject him! and he's a dear old man; almost too old for you, I acknowledge, but don't say no on that account. Be 'an old man's darling,' there's a dear! for then we'll have you close beside us in that lovely Beechwood."
A silent caress was Annis' only reply, and Violet slipped away, leaving her once more alone. For a brief space Annis stood gazing down at the flowers in her hand with a tender smile on her lips, the roses coming and going on her cheek. They seemed to be whispering to her of priceless love and tenderness; for Mr. Lilburn was a hale, hearty man, looking much younger than his years: he might outlive her, but years of genial companionship might well be hoped for in this world, to be eventually followed by a blissful eternity in another and better land, for they were followers of the same Master, travelling the same road—toward the city which hath foundations, whose builder and maker is God. Yes, she did indeed love the dear old man; she knew it now, and her heart sang for joy as she hastened to array herself in the most becoming dress she had at hand and pinned his flowers in the bosom of her gown.
He was alone in the saloon as she entered it, and turning at the sound of her light step, came forward to greet her with outstretched hand, his eyes shining with pleasure at the sight of his flowers and the sweet, blushing face above them.
"Ah, my darling! you do not despise my little gift," he said low and tenderly, taking quiet possession of her hand. "May I hope you will show equal favor to the giver?"