CHAPTER TWENTY-FIFTH.
"Whatsoever a man soweth, that shall he also reap."
—GAL. vi. 7.
Elsie and her children returned home healthful and happy, with scarce any but pleasing recollections of the months that had just passed.
Not so with Mrs. Conly and Virginia. They seemed soured and disappointed; nothing had gone right with them; their finery was all spoiled, and they were worn out—with the journey they said, but in reality far more by late hours and dissipation of one sort and another.
The flirtation with Captain Brice had not ended in anything serious—except the establishing of a character for coquetry for Virginia—nor had several others which followed in quick succession.
The girl had much ado to conceal her chagrin; she had started out with bright hopes of securing a brilliant match, and now, though not yet twenty, began to be haunted with the terrible, boding fear of old maidenhood.
She confided her trouble to Isadore one day, when a fit of extreme depression had made her unusually communicative.
Isa could scarce forbear smiling, but checked the inclination.
"It is much too soon to despair, Virgy," she said; "but indeed, I do not think the prospect of living single need make one wretched."
"Perhaps not you, who are an heiress; but it's another thing for poor, penniless me."