“Now, Aunt Wealthy, do you know that, as usual, you have lowered my father’s rank?” queried Mrs. Allison with an amused look and smile. “You will forget, you dear old soul, that he is a King—not merely a prince.”
“Ah, yes; it is a sad mistake and one that I make very often, and I fear I’m too young now to hope to reform in that respect.”
“Ah, well, auntie, do not be discouraged,” said Mr. Duncan; “you know you are getting older every day and may hope to arrive finally at years of discretion.”
“Ah, Harry, Harry, you are a sad fellow, considering that you belong to the family of such a fine young father; such an one should never think of making game of his old auntie in that fashion,” returned Miss Stanhope with affected gravity, but a twinkle of fun in her eye. Then turning to Percy, “Did Mr. Travilla and Elsie get to your wedding?” she asked.
“No, ma’am; none of the family except young Horace, who was one of our groomsmen. I own that I was disappointed, for I have a great desire to meet them all; especially Cousin Elsie. She has been here several times, has she not?”
“Yes, years ago when she was quite young—eighteen—and Mr. Travilla came after her, but was not her—yes, he was her lover, but she thought of him only as a kind of uncle. Then her father brought her again when she had found out that she cared for Mr. Torville, and engaged him to marry her. Ah, he’s as pleasant a gentleman as ever you saw!”
“You were at the wedding, were you not, Aunt Wealthy?” asked Stuart.
“Yes, indeed! They wouldn’t have missed me for a good deal, and from the sole of her head to the crown of her foot she was the loveliest bride that I ever saw.”
“So mother has often told me, and that she was as lovely in character as in person,” said Percy.
“An assertion which no one at all acquainted with her would hesitate to confirm,” said Mr. Allison. “I know her well as the daughter of my esteemed brother-in-law, Mr. Horace Dinsmore, and have known her since she was a little lass about nine years old.”