Elinor Fenton the daughter was a delicate, graceful girl, inheriting her mother’s gentleness and refinement, but with the shadow of a deep sorrow always visible on her sweet face. That there was a son we knew, but nothing was ever said of him, and we could easily believe that his desertion of the Union cause, the uncertainty of her father’s fate, and the illness of her mother, must exert a depressing influence on one so young, even before we heard the saddest part of her story. The wealth of her affections had been bestowed on one who seemed fully worthy of them, but when the day of trial came he was found wanting. He was one of the first to enter the rebel army, and his influence over young Fenton had led the latter to adopt the same course. Thus doubly bereft of lover and brother, the young girl devoted herself to her suffering mother; but her heart was open as the day “to melting charity,” and none ever appealed to her in vain for sympathy or relief.
When I first went to the house, I saw only Mrs. Fenton and Elinor, but my interest in both was so much excited that the call was soon repeated, and on my second visit Mrs. Fenton said to her daughter,
“Elinor, where is your cousin? Go, my love, and tell Lilian I wish to see her here.”
Elinor left the room, and soon returned, accompanied by a young girl whom she introduced as Miss Grey, and in whom I recognized the original of the pleasing portrait I had seen. She was indeed most attractive in face and person; bright, sparkling, and intellectual, with a world of thought and feeling in her full hazel eye, shaded by long silken lashes, and an equal amount of firmness and energy indicated by the finely moulded mouth and chin.
After paying her respects to me as a stranger, she seated herself on an ottoman by the side of the couch, and taking one thin, white hand of the invalid, laid her cheek on it in a caressing way, which was evidently the expression of a tender and loving nature.
“And what has my Lilian been about all the morning,” said Mrs. Fenton, “that I have seen nothing of her before?”
“Oh, dear aunt, I have been very busy, I assure you. Venus wanted me in the kitchen a while, for she was afraid her preserves were in danger of spoiling. Then I gave little Pete his daily lesson; and last, not least, had to prepare some work to take to the society to-morrow.”
“Then you are going to our meeting?” I said; “I am very glad to hear that, for somehow I feared we should not have the pleasure of seeing you young ladies there.”
“You do not know our Lilian,” said her aunt fondly, “or you would have no doubts on such a subject. She is a perfect enthusiast in the Union cause, and I am afraid she has almost wished herself capable of bearing arms in its defence. However that may be, she honors a soldier with all her heart, and would gladly devote herself in any way to do him good. As for my Elinor,” she added, turning with a smile to her daughter, “she is no less loyal than her cousin, though not quite so demonstrative naturally, and tied to a sick mother who can hardly live without her. But you will see them both to-morrow, for the cause is dear to us all.”
When I left the house, Lilian Grey accompanied me to the door, and taking my hand, said with a frankness that was very captivating,