"It seems an earthly paradise," Mildred wrote to her mother, "and the little owner is the loveliest, most fairy-like little creature you can imagine—so sweet, so gentle, so beautiful! and good as she is pretty. Mrs. Murray tells me she is generosity itself, and she doesn't believe there is a grain of selfishness in her nature. Elsie showed me her mamma's miniature, and it is so sweet and beautiful that I do not wonder Cousin Horace lost his heart at first sight."
But it was not until the next day that this letter was written. Mildred had enough to do that day in looking about her and making acquaintance with Elsie and her attendants.
After tea, Mr. Dinsmore being closeted with the overseer, she made her way to the nursery, coaxed the little one into her lap again—though indeed no great amount of persuasion was needed—and amused her for an hour or two with stories and nursery rhymes.
But the child's bedtime drew near, and with a tender good-night, a lingering, loving caress, Mildred left her and went down to the drawing-room.
Her uncle was not there, and passing out to the veranda, she fell into chat with Mrs. Murray, whom she found seated there enjoying the beautiful scenery and the soft evening air.
Their talk turned naturally upon Viamede and the Grayson family; particularly Horace Dinsmore's wife, the last of the race; Mrs. Murray giving many details that were of great interest to her hearer.
"She was very lovely," she said, "baith in person and in character; a sweet, earnest, child-like Christian; and the bairn is wonderfully like her. She seemed to me a lamb of the fold from her very birth; and nae doot in answer to the mother's prayers. Ye ken, Miss Keith, that she lived scarce a week after her babe was born, and all her anxiety was that it should be trained up in the nurture and admonition o' the Lord, her constant prayer that He would be pleased to mak' it His own.
"The bit bairnie isna perfect, of course, but quite as near it as grown folk. It's very evident that she tries to please the blessed Saviour; that she grieves when she has done wrong, and canna rest till she's been awi' by hersel' to beg His forgiveness.
"I tell her whiles aboot the new heart God gives to his children, and that He will give it to a' such as ask earnestly; and she will look up in my face with those great innocent eyes and answer, 'Yes, Mrs. Murray; and I do ask earnestly every day'."
The old lady brushed away a tear, and her voice was slightly tremulous as she added, "Mr. Cameron used to fret a bit whiles, lest she was too gude to live:—like her mother before her, he wad say. But I canna think early piety any sign that life will be short. Except, indeed, that when the work o' grace is fully done glory follows. She's come o' a God-fearing race, Miss Keith, and the Lord's aye faithful to His promise;—showing mercy to thousands o' generations o' them that love Him and keep His commandments."