Elsie's heart sank as she saw it all. "My poor child!" she sighed to herself. "I must warn him that her affections are not to be trifled with. He may think her sad affliction is her shield—raising a barrier that she herself must know to be impassable—but when was heart controlled by reason?"
The next morning Enna, putting her head in at the door of the dressing-room where her niece was busy with her little ones, said: "Elsie, I wish you'd come and speak a word to Molly. She'll hear reason from you, maybe, though she thinks I haven't sense enough to give her any advice."
"What is it?" Elsie asked, obeying the summons at once, leaving Rosie and Walter in Aunt Chloe's charge.
"Just come to her room, won't you?" Enna said, leading the way. "I don't see what possesses the child to act so. He's handsome and rich and everything a reasonable woman could ask. I want you to—But there! he's gone, and it's too late!"
Elsie following her glance through a window they were passing, saw Mr. Embury's carriage driving away.
"Did he ask Molly to go with him?" she inquired.
"Yes, and she wouldn't do it; though I did all I could to make her. Come and speak to her though, so she'll know better next time."
Molly sat in an attitude of dejection, her face hidden in her hands, and did not seem conscious of their entrance until Elsie's hand was softly laid on her shoulder, while the pitying voice asked, "What is the matter, Molly dear?"
Then the bowed head was lifted, and Elsie saw that her eyes were full of tears, her cheeks wet with them.
"Oh, Cousin Elsie," she sobbed, "don't ask me to go with him. I must not. I must try to keep away from him. Oh, why did we ever meet? Shall I ever be rid of this weary pain in my heart?"