"About as usual, Mrs. Travilla," was the reply.
"I am glad to hear it. I feared you were ill. You are looking weary; and no wonder after your long walk. You must let us take you home. There is plenty of room in the carriage, as the gentlemen came on horseback; and it will be a real pleasure to me to have your company."
The sincere, earnest, kindly tone and manner quite disarmed the pride of the fallen gentlewoman, and a momentary glow of grateful pleasure lighted up her sad face.
"But it will take you fully a mile out of your way," she said, hesitating to accept the proffered kindness.
"Ah, that is no objection; it is so lovely a day for a drive," said
Elsie, leading the way to the carriage.
"This seems like a return of the good old times before the war!" sighed Mrs. Foster leaning back upon the softly cushioned seat, as they bowled rapidly along. "Ah Mrs. Travilla, if we could but have been content to let well enough alone! I have grown weary, inexpressibly weary of all this hate, bitterness and contention; and the poverty—Ah well, I will not complain!" and she closed her lips resolutely.
"It was a sad mistake," Elsie answered; echoing the sigh, "and it will take many years to recover from it."
"Yes, I shall not live to see it."
"Nor I, perhaps; not here, but yonder in the better land," Elsie answered with a smile of hope and gladness.
Mrs. Foster nodded assent; her heart too full for utterance, nor did she speak again till the carriage drew up before her own door.