Chapter Third.
"How poor a thing is pride!"
—Daniel.
The parting was no slight trial to her who went or those who stayed behind, particularly the loving, tender mother. But both she and Mildred bore it bravely, though the heart of the latter almost failed her as she felt the clinging arms of the little ones about her neck, heard their sobs and saw their tears; and again as she found herself clasped to her father's and then to her mother's breast with many a fond caress and lowbreathed word of farewell and affection.
Wallace wrung her hand with a whispered word of passionate entreaty, "O Mildred, darling, don't forget me! I'll remember you to the day of my death."
The weather was fine, the air crisp, cool and bracing, and when the town and a few miles of prairie had been left behind, their way led through woods beautiful with all the rich tints of October's most lavish mood.
Mr. Dinsmore exerted himself to be entertaining and ere long he and Mildred were chatting and laughing right merrily.