"She has been away; went North with her son, and did not return till quite recently. She called at Roselands the same day Mrs. Landreth did and inquired for you."
Mildred was greatly pleased with both Ion and its mistress.
The grounds were extensive, beautiful and well cared for, the house, a fine old mansion handsomely furnished, abounded in tasteful ornamentation; there were articles of vertu scattered through its rooms—rare and costly bits of painting and sculpture. Also less expensive adornments, singing birds and blooming plants and flowers; all showing a refined and cultivated taste, and forming together a most harmonious and charming whole.
Mrs. Travilla was perhaps some years older than Mrs. Dinsmore, and with her, too, youthful bloom had fled; but it had given place to beauty of another and higher order—the illumination of a richly cultivated mind and heart.
She was attired with simple elegance and a due regard to her age, circumstances and what best became her style of beauty. Her manner was simple and cordial, her conversation sprightly, her voice low and sweet toned.
"You resemble your mother," she said with a kindly smile, taking Mildred's hand in parting, and gazing earnestly into her face. "I remember her well for I saw a good deal of her in her visits to Roselands: and truly to know her was to love her. Some day soon, if your aunt can spare you, you must spend a day with me, and we will have a long talk about her. I want to hear all you have to tell."
"Oh, I should be delighted!" Mildred exclaimed, her cheeks glowing, her eyes sparkling. Mrs. Travilla had found the way to her heart, and from that moment they were fast friends.
