TOM FULLER'S LETTER.
As they were sitting at dinner the next day, Mellen inquired about
Fuller.
"I have quite forgotten to ask you about Tom," he said; "he was in
France when you last wrote to me."
"He has not come yet," Elizabeth replied; "the house in which he was
employed, concluded to keep him at Bordeaux for a time; in his last
letter he wrote that he might be gone another year."
"Poor old Tom," Elsie said, laughingly.
Elizabeth's brows contracted a little; she had never been able entirely
to forget the suffering this girl had caused the young man. Whenever she
heard her mention his name in that trifling way, it jarred upon her
feelings and irritated her greatly.
"Bessie doesn't like any one to laugh at Tom," said Mellen, noticing the
expression of her face.
"I confess I do not," she replied; "he is such a noble fellow at the
bottom, with an honest, kindly heart, and it seems to me that no one
really acquainted with Tom can help respecting him, in spite of his
eccentricities."
"But you need not be so heroic, Bessie," returned Elsie; "Tom always
allowed me to laugh at him as much as I pleased; you know I don't mean
to be ill-natured."
"No one would ever suspect you of that, Birdie," added Mellen, with a
fond glance.
Elizabeth said nothing more, and the conversation "We shall have the
house crowded with visitors, I suppose," Elsie said; "Mary Harrington
told me she should only give us one day for family affection--"
"I hope she won't come to stay any time just yet," said Elizabeth.
"I hope so, too," added Mellen; "I should like a little enjoyment of my
home, if possible, for a week or two at least."
"But people will come," said Elsie; "you must expect it. They look for
all sorts of invitations, and you must give them or mortally offend
everybody."
Perhaps the idea of the gayety that would ensue was not unpleasant to
Elsie, in spite of her joy at Mellen's return; it was quite natural at
her age, and to her character, which drooped in solitude like a flower
deprived of the sun.
"Oh," said Mellen, "we will give them as many dinners and parties as
they like, provided they won't domicile themselves with us, Elizabeth."
"Yes; I don't mind that so much."
"Shall you take a house in town, Grant?" asked Elsie.
"Do you particularly wish it?"
"Oh, it would be pleasant, of course."
"Just as you and Elizabeth choose," he said.
"For my part I would rather stay here," exclaimed Elizabeth.
"And so would I," said Mellen.
Elsie looked a little disappointed, but she concealed the feeling with
her usual quickness.
"I have not told you what Doctor Peters said," she continued.
"What?" her brother asked, anxious at once.
"He thinks the sea air too strong for me in the winter; but, I dare say,
it is only his fancy; I would not have either you or Elizabeth disturbed
on my account."
"My dear child," cried Mellen, "that settles the matter at once; we will
certainly go away from here before the cold weather comes; any where you
like; Bessie will gladly give up Piney Cove, I'm sure."
"Certainly," answered the wife, quietly.
Elsie looked triumphant; she was always elated at having her own way,
whether the thing was of importance or not.
"We need not think about it now," she said, demurely; "it will be warm
and pleasant for several weeks yet."
"But you must be careful," returned Mellen, "dear child; I cannot reach
home safely only to see your health give way."
"Oh, nonsense, Grant, don't begin to fidget! I am ever so well; make him
believe it, Bessie."
"I think so," Bessie replied; "you are stronger than you look."
"Elsie requires great care," said Mellen, decidedly.
Elsie did not look displeased; she liked being considered weak and
delicate; it made her more petted and at liberty to indulge her
numberless caprices in the most interesting manner.
The family had that evening entirely to themselves, and it passed off
very pleasantly. Elizabeth and Elsie joined in the old songs Mellen
loved, and they all talked and laughed gaily, forgetful of the clouds
that lowered above that house.
The next morning when the family met in the breakfast-room the post had
arrived, and Dolf presented Elsie and Elizabeth with several letters;
only the journals were left for Mellen, and he said, laughingly:
"The division is not just--Bessie having two letters; you might give me
one."
"I'm too selfish," she answered.
"Mine is from Mary Harrington," observed Elsie. "Bess, you shall not
read yours till you have given us our coffee. I'll just see what the
widow says."
Elizabeth poured out the coffee while Elsie opened her note.
"She is coming to-day," she exclaimed; "I told you so. She sends all
sorts of messages to you, Grant; calls you a god-like, wonderful
creature, and is dying to see you."
"Oh, of course," said Mellen.
"She asks after Mr. Rhodes, Bessie--poor old fellow--she has quite
turned his head."
"What is that?" asked Mellen.
So Elsie explained how the widow delighted in worrying Miss Jemima, had
made desperate love to the stout man on every occasion; and in laughing
at her quaint speeches Elizabeth quite forgot her own epistles.
"Why, where are your letters?" asked Elsie.
"I forgot them," returned Elizabeth, drawing them from under her plate,
and adding as she glanced at the superscription of the upper one, "it is
only from the dressmaker."
Elsie snatched the other, and cried out:
"Why, this is from Tom Fuller; oh, see what it says."
"From Tom? oh, I am so glad; I have been expecting a letter for a week
past."
Elizabeth took the letter, and her face lighted up joyously as she broke
the seal and began to read.
"Well," said Elsie, impatiently, "what does he say? read it out."
Elizabeth uttered an exclamation of delight.
"Oh, you provoking creature," cried Elsie, "do tell us what it is?"
"Tom must have found a diamond mine," said Mellen.
"He has," returned Elizabeth.
"Bless me," said Elsie, "will he go about covered with diamonds?"
"His old uncle has left him a fortune," explained Elizabeth.
Elsie fairly screamed, and clapped her little hands with graceful fury.
"Who would have thought it! Only fancy Tom Fuller rich! Why he'll be
robbed every day of his life."
"How much is it?" asked Mellen. "I am very glad. Tom is a good fellow
and deserves it."
He had entirely got over any suspicion that Elizabeth might ever have
cared for her cousin, and was prepared to rejoice in Tom's good fortune.
"How much--how much?" broke in Elsie.
"Thirty thousand a year," replied Elizabeth; "Tom is in a state of
bewilderment that makes his letter sadly incoherent; he never expected a
penny; his uncle changed his will at the last moment."
"But wasn't he your uncle, too?" asked Elsie.
"No; he was aunt Fuller's brother."
"Oh, do let me see the letter," said Elsie.
Elizabeth gave it to her, but between excitement and his usual odd
penmanship Tom's epistle was quite a puzzle to unpractised eyes, and
Elsie went into shrieks over it.
"He promised to bring me a bracelet," said she, "diamonds it shall be
now. If he brings anything less I'll send him straight back."
"But when is he coming?" Mellen asked.
"I can't make out," said Elsie; "here is something at the end about I
shall burn--no return--at the--the--can that be Millennium?"
"Scarcely, I should think," said Mellen, laughingly.
"Try and make it out, Bess," said Elsie, giving her the letter.
Elizabeth took it, examined the lines to which she pointed, and after a
moment's study read it correctly.
"I shall return by the Hammonia."
"Why that's due now," said Elsie.
Elizabeth glanced at the date.
"The letter has been delayed," she said; "he may be here already."
"Oh, it will be beautiful to see him," said Elsie; "why, he will give
all he is worth to the person that asks first. Won't it be fun!"
"You shall not tease him, Elsie, as you formerly did," said Elizabeth;
"I will not have it."
"But I will," said Elsie. "Thirty thousand a year! Good gracious, it
will seem as if he had fallen from the moon. Of course I'll tease him
half to death."