“AH, how I wish poor dear Marian was blessed with such a father as
mine,” Lula said to herself as she moved noiselessly about her room
getting ready for bed. “But I doubt if there is another quite so dear
and good—though Mamma Vi says hers was, and Grandma Elsie seems to
think hers could not possibly be excelled! The idea! I’m as glad as can
be that I wasn’t born his child, though the older he grows the better
and kinder he seems to be. And that’s the way it ought to be with all
of us; papa says so, and I know it’s according to Bible teachings.
‘Grow in grace, and in the knowledge of our Lord and Saviour Jesus
Christ,’ it says. Ah me! there’s nobody needs to do that more than you
yourself, you bad-tempered, wilful Lulu Raymond. I am glad you have a
father who understands the business of training you up in the way you
should go, as well as mine does,” and presently, when he came in, she
turned to him with a remark to that effect.
“If I have succeeded in training my children at all in the right way,
it is only by the wisdom given me of God in answer to earnest prayer
for it,” he replied with grave earnestness. “Now good-night, my dear
little daughter,” again laying a hand tenderly upon her head. “‘The
Lord bless thee and keep thee; the Lord make his face to shine upon
thee, and be gracious unto thee; the Lord lift up his countenance upon
thee, and give thee peace.’”
“Dear papa, thank you,” she said, lifting dewy eyes to his; “it is such
a beautiful, beautiful blessing!”
“It is indeed! the blessing which the Lord directed Moses to give to
Aaron and his sons to use in blessing the children of Israel; adding
‘and they shall put my name upon the children of Israel, and I will
bless them.’ Now again good-night, daughter. Get to bed and to sleep as
quickly as you can.”
Lulu obeyed, and her head had scarcely more than touched the pillow
before her senses were lost in sound sleep, from which she did not
awake till just as the sun appeared above the tree-tops.
“Oh, what a lovely morning! everything looking so beautiful within and
without!” she exclaimed to herself, glancing around the handsomely
furnished room, then out at the beautiful grounds. “Ah, I want a
morning stroll with my dear father!” and with the words she sprang
from the bed and began a hasty but neat toilet; but first she laid her
Bible open on the dressing-table that she might commit a verse or more
to memory as she worked.
Then a few moments were spent on her knees giving thanks for God’s
protecting care over her and hers during the silent watches of the
night, the many, many blessings of her lot in life, and the hope of
eternal life through the righteousness and atoning blood of Christ,
confessing her sins, asking forgiveness for Jesus’ sake, and help to
love him more and serve him better.
Grace still slept soundly, as Lulu discovered on peeping in at the
open door communicating with her own room. Polly woke and called for
a cracker, according to her custom. Lulu gave her one, told her to be
silent and not disturb tired sleepers, then passed quietly out to the
hall and to Marian’s door, where she stood listening till satisfied
that no movement was going on within that room; then seeing her father
passing out of his dressing-room into the hall, she ran to him, was
welcomed with a smile and a kiss, slipped her hand into his, and they
went down the stairs together.
“Have you had anything to eat?” he asked, adding, “It will be more than
an hour yet before we are called to breakfast, and that will make too
long a fast from the time you must have left your bed.”
“No, sir, I haven’t,” she replied. “Shall I call for a glass of milk
for you and one for myself?”
“Suppose instead we take a basket and go out to the strawberry bed. How
would you like that?” he asked.
“Oh, ever so much, papa!” she exclaimed delightedly. “And might we not
gather some for breakfast too? Mamma Vi and the rest will enjoy them as
well as you and I.”
“I entirely approve of the suggestion,” he returned, and they set off
together for the strawberry patch.
It was a large one supplied with an abundance of the finest varieties,
the vines now loaded with delicious fruit just in prime condition for
eating.
“Oh, how beautiful they are!” cried Lulu. “So many too, and so nicely
arranged and trained that they don’t get any sand at all on them; and
so large that it won’t take long to fill our basket, papa.”
“No, not many minutes. Gather and eat all you wish and we will fill the
basket afterward.”
“Thank you, sir,” she said, and hastened to avail herself of the
permission. For some minutes she was too busy to talk, but at length,
when the filling of the basket began, she broke the silence with a
question: “Papa, did Marian tell you how she escaped from Minersville?”
“Yes,” he replied; “and now you want me to tell you, I suppose?”
“Oh, yes, sir, if you will.”
“I will tell you something about it, but let you get the particulars
from Marian herself. My agent, Mr. Short, was a good friend to the poor
girl, supplied her with funds and whatever else she needed; took her
by night to a station some miles distant on the railroad, bought her a
ticket, had her trunk checked, put her on board an eastern train and
watched it out of sight.”
“And she travelled all the rest of the way alone, papa?”
“Yes; as far as Union, where I met her with my carriage.”
“I think she was very brave, papa; but anything was better than the
fate she would have had if she had stayed where that wicked, cruel
father of hers could have done what he pleased with her. Oh, how glad
and thankful I am that God gave me such a good, kind father!”
“And I that you are mine,” he returned with a loving look into her
beaming eyes. “It speaks ill indeed for Mormonism that it can so
harden the heart against those who should be regarded with the
tenderest affection. There! we have filled our basket and now we will
go back to the house.”
The breakfast-bell rang just as they stepped into the veranda. Violet
was there with the three younger children; morning greetings were
exchanged, then all repaired to the breakfast-room.
“I think our weary young guest is still sleeping,” Violet said. “I
knocked softly at her door and listened for several minutes, but could
hear no sound; so thought it best to let her sleep on and give her her
breakfast when she wakes of herself.”
“Quite right, my dear,” returned the captain as he lifted baby Ned to
his high chair, then seated himself.
He asked a blessing upon their food and the meal began. They were
the usual cheerful little family party, chatting pleasantly among
themselves while they ate.
As they rose from the table Violet said: “I think I will go to the
telephone and have a little chat with mamma while the servants are
eating.”
“And may I go with you?” the captain asked with a smile.
“I shall be happy to have you, sir,” she returned with a laughing look
up into his face. “The children are welcome to come, too, if they wish.”
At Ion the family were about leaving the breakfast-table when the
telephone bell rang. It was answered by Edward. “Hello! who is there?
and what’s wanted?”
“It is I. I wish to speak to mamma,” was the reply in Violet’s own
sweet tones. “No objections to others hearing, though.”
“Dear me, I hope she isn’t going to say they can’t come to-day!”
exclaimed Rosie, while Edward stepped aside and their mother took the
place he vacated.
“What is it, Vi?” she asked, and all listened intently for the reply.
“We have a guest, Marian McAlpine—that Minersville young girl you have
all heard my husband, Max and Lu speak of.”
“Ah! then bring her with you to-day, if she will come.”
“Thank you, mamma; we will if she is able and willing to accompany us;
she was greatly fatigued by her journey and seems to be still sleeping.”
“McAlpine?” exclaimed Mr. Lilburn, standing near. “You and I have
some distant relatives of that name, Cousin Elsie. Please ask for the
father’s first name.”
“I have heard the captain say his wife called him Willie,” Elsie
answered.
“Ah, indeed!” exclaimed Mr. Lilburn, in a tone of some excitement. “I
must see the lassie. Please say to Cousin Vi that I will be over there
an hour hence. And will you not accompany me, cousin?”
“With pleasure,” she replied, and turning to her father, “Shall we not
make up a party, papa?” she asked.
“Yes,” he said. “It is a lovely morning for a drive and we may as well
do so, all going who have time and inclination.”
“I wonder if our young guest is awake yet,” Violet said to her husband
as they turned away from the telephone. “Shall I send a servant up to
see?”
“No, my dear, I think I wouldn’t,” the captain replied. “I told her
last night to lie and sleep as late this morning as she would, ring for
her breakfast when she was ready to eat it, and it should be carried up
to her. Ah! there is her bell now. I will direct that it be taken up at
once, and then we will have family worship.”
On coming down nearly an hour later Marian found the family gathered
upon the front veranda. The captain rose on her appearance and
gallantly handed her to a seat, remarking that she was looking much
better and brighter than on her arrival the previous evening.
“Yes, sir,” she said, “and I feel far better. I was very weary with my
long journey (what a very big country America is!), but I slept well
and am almost rested now.”
Just then a carriage was seen to turn in at the gates opening upon the
high-road. Ned greeted its approach with a shout of delight.
“Gan’ma tumin’! gan’ma tumin’. Oh, I so blad, I so blad!”
“Yes, Neddie boy, we are always glad to see dear grandma,” said his
father. “Grandpa Dinsmore too, Cousin Ronald, Rosie and Walter. They
are all there, I see.”
The next minute the carriage had drawn up at the foot of the steps
and the captain was assisting his guests to alight and bidding them
heartily welcome.
Cousin Ronald, waiting only to greet Violet, turned to the young
stranger guest, and grasping her hand said with emotion: “I need ask no
questions, for that bonny, winsome face tells plainer than any words
that you are my Cousin Janet’s bairn.”
Marian gazed at him for a moment in dumb astonishment; then a glad
surprise lighted up her face.
“A kinsman of my dear mother?” she exclaimed.
“Yes, my bonny lass. Did you never hear her speak of her Cousin Ronald
Lilburn?”
“Oh, I have, sir, I have! and you are he?”
“That I am, lassie; and old enough to be your grandsire; so dinna think
it too great a liberty I take,” kissing her on cheek and lip. “And my
cousin Elsie here, and her children, may claim kindred with you also,
lassie,” putting the hand he held into that of Mrs. Travilla.
“Yes, we must be permitted to claim you as our own, dear girl,” Grandma
Elsie said in tender tones and with an affectionate caress. Then
turning to her children, “Rosie and Walter,” she said, “this is your
cousin, too.”
“Then mine also, mamma,” exclaimed Violet.
“Ah, Marian, I am glad to know there is such a tie between us!” taking
the young girl’s hand in hers and holding it for a moment in a kindly
pressure.
“I also, for if related to my wife you are to me too,” the captain
said, laying a hand affectionately upon the young girl’s shoulder.
Then the younger ones greeted her warmly in turn. Mr. Dinsmore shook
hands with her in a kind, grandfatherly way, saying that she must no
longer feel herself a stranger in a strange land, but that the God of
her fathers had guided her to an abiding-place among her own kith and
kin.
Marian seemed well-nigh overwhelmed with joy and gratitude by the
sudden glad change in her condition, laughing and crying hysterically
in turn; but under the kind ministrations of her newly found relatives
soon recovered her composure and was able to answer coherently the many
questions Cousin Ronald had to ask concerning her parents and brothers.
His manner increased in gentleness and tenderness as he learned of her
many and recent bereavements and the cruel treatment received at the
hands of her unnatural father.
Mr. Lilburn’s brow darkened as he listened. “Ah, to think o’ my ain
bonny cousin throwing hersel’ awa upon sic a beast o’ a mon!” he
muttered between his set teeth; then aloud to Marian, “Dinna fash
yersel’, lassie; the Lord has blessed your Cousin Ronald wi’ abundance
o’ this worl’s gude; sons too, and one married daughter, but no single
one now the two that were once the pride and joy o’ his heart having
been long since called to the Father’s house on high, and if it so
pleases you he will be glad to take you in the place of one of them.”
“How very kind you are, sir!” she exclaimed with starting tears. “I
cannot consent to be a burden to any one, but will gladly take help
to fit myself for some useful employment by which I can earn my daily
bread.”
“And that you shall have, my dear lass,” he said emphatically.
“But we need not settle anything to-day,” their Cousin Elsie remarked,
then told Marian of the family gathering to be held at Ion that
afternoon, adding a warm invitation to her to make one of the company.
Marian accepted with thanks; then, coloring and hesitating, said she
feared she had nothing to wear which would be suitable for such an
occasion.
“My dear girl, do not allow yourself to be troubled with any such
fears,” Elsie replied in gentle, reassuring accents. “It is only a
family gathering, and the dress you are now wearing will be quite
suitable.”
“Surely, surely, lassie, it strikes me as far from unbecoming,” Cousin
Ronald said, regarding her and her apparel with critical eyes, “and if
any in the company think ill o’e dress, let him or her forget it in
gazing upon the bonny face above it.”
“I think you need not feel ashamed of it or fear unfavorable criticism,
my dear girl,” added Violet.
“No, dress is but a secondary matter in the connection, so far as I
know,” said the captain, and Rosie and Lulu added their assurance to
the same effect.
“Then I shall go with pleasure and try not to think of the dress at
all,” returned Marian with a look of relief.
Walter, ever ready for a story, had been eagerly watching his
opportunity and now earnestly requested of Marian a detailed account of
her escape from Minersville. She complied and gave the facts in a way
that all her hearers found exceedingly interesting.
At the conclusion of her narrative the Ion callers departed, and after
dinner the whole Woodburn family, including their guest, followed.
Marian’s eyes were bright with happiness in the discovery that the
captain and Lulu, both of whom she had learned to dearly love in the
by-gone days of her acquaintance with them in the far West, were in
some sort connected with her and disposed to treat her as a near and
valued relative; also that through them she had come upon others
actually of her mother’s kith and kin and disposed to take her in
among them and treat her as one of themselves. Ah, what a sudden and
delightful change from the lonely and forlorn condition which had been
hers but the day before!
She greatly enjoyed the short drive to Ion, the warm welcome received
there by herself as well as the others, the pleasant, kindly greetings
of the different members of the various family connections, all of
whom, though many of them were not actually even distantly related to
her, met her with the greatest cordiality and seemed deeply interested
in the story of her past and her prospects for the future.
It was a great pleasure to make acquaintance with the young girls from
the Oaks, with Lora Howard also and Evelyn Leland, with all of whom
she spent the greater part of the afternoon in pleasant chat, while
wandering about the beautiful grounds and boating on the lovely lakelet.
While the young people strolled over the grounds the older ones sat
conversing together in the veranda. Much of the talk was of Marian and
what could be done to help her to a happy and useful life. It soon
became apparent that any one of them was ready to offer her a home;
Captain Raymond more than willing to take her into the number of his
pupils, and Mr. Lilburn really anxious to bear all the expense of her
clothing and education.
“If she will accept me as her teacher the education need cost but
little,” remarked Captain Raymond.
“And I,” said Mrs. Elsie Travilla, “must claim the privilege of
supplying at least a part of her clothing; for as my dear mother’s
relative she seems very near to me.”
“And what is left for me to do?” asked Mr. Lilburn with a comical look
of chagrin and dismay.
“Why, sir, you might supply pocket-money,” suggested Zoe.
“Or settle a few thousands upon her so that she need not feel
absolutely penniless,” added Edward.
“Ah ha! ah ha! um hm! that’s no so bad an idea, cousin,” returned the
old gentleman with a humorous look and smile; “and it is to be hoped
our bonny lassie may not be averse to receiving it from ‘a kinsman
near, a clansman true;’ though the kin be not so near as one might
wish.”
“Yet if you adopt her that need make but little difference,” Edward
laughingly returned.
“Quite true, sir, and whether that is done or no will rest wi’ the
sweet lassie hersel’,” said the old gentleman, relapsing into his
Scottish brogue. “She is one any man might be proud to call his
daughter.”
“So we all think,” said Elsie Leland, “and Lester and I would be glad
to give her a home at Fairview. She would make a desirable companion
for Evelyn, we think.”
“She would do quite as well for Ella at the Roselands; wouldn’t she,
Cal?” said Dr. Arthur Conly with a humorous look at his elder brother.
“Not a doubt of it; for ourselves too, for that matter,” laughed
Calhoun.
“Or for us at the Oaks,” remarked the younger Mr. Horace Dinsmore; and
his sister Mrs. Lacey added, “Or for us at the Laurels.”
“Evidently she is in no danger of finding herself homeless,” remarked
the father of the last two with a smile.
“No, indeed! not while her older Cousin Elsie has one or more to offer
her,” added the sweet voice of his eldest daughter. “I propose that
some of us take her into the city to-morrow morning and buy for her
whatever may be needed to supply her with a wardrobe equal to that of
any one of our own girls.”
“A very good thought, cousin,” said Mr. Lilburn, “and with your leave
I shall make one of that party. And might it not be well to take the
lass herself with us and consult her own taste to supplement the good
judgment of yourself and any of the other ladies who may care to
accompany us?”
“And give her the pleasure of seeing the city too,” said Zoe, “if she
is sufficiently rested from her long and wearisome journey to enjoy
it.”
After a little more talk it was fully decided that the trip to the city
and the shopping should be undertaken on the morrow, and Marian invited
to accompany them or not, as might suit her inclination.