as she did ten years ago?"

"Quite. I relinquish my plan for yours; and don't let me detain you and
these eager children."

"I thank you: I will go then, as the invitations will be late enough
with all the haste we can make."

The carriage was at the door and in a trice grandpa and papa had helped
the little ones in: not even Baby Herbert was left behind, but seated on
his mammy's lap crowed and laughed as merrily as the rest.

"Ah, mamma, you come too!" pleaded the little voices, as their father
took his place beside them. "Can't mammy and Aunt Dicey and the rest
know what to do without you to tell them?"

"Not this time, dears; and you know I must make haste to try on the
dress, to see if it fits."

"Oh, yes, mamma!" and throwing a shower of kisses, they drove off.

"A carriage load of precious jewels," Elsie said, looking after it as it
rolled away: "how the ten years have added to my wealth, papa."

She stood by his side, her hand on his arm, and the soft sweet eyes
lifted to his were full of a content and gladness beyond the power of
words to express.

"I thank God every day for my darling's happiness," he said low and
tenderly, and softly smoothing her shining hair.

"Ah, it is very great, and my father's dear love forms no small part of
it. But come in, papa, I want to consult you about one or two little
matters; Edward and I rely very much upon your taste and judgment."

"To Roselands first," was Mr. Travilla's order to the coachman.

The old home of the Dinsmores, though shorn of the glory of its grand
old trees, was again a beautiful place: the new house was in every
respect a finer one than its predecessor, of a higher style of
architecture, more conveniently arranged, more tastefully and handsomely
furnished; lawns, gardens and fields had become neat and trim as in the
days before the war, and a double row of young, thrifty trees bordered
the avenue.

Old Mr. Dinsmore now resided there and gave a home to his two widowed
and impoverished daughters--Mrs. Louise Conly, and Mrs. Enna
Johnson--and their families.

These two aunts loved Elsie no better than in earlier years: it was gall
and wormwood to them to know that they owed all these comforts to her
generosity; nor could they forgive her that she was more wealthy,
beautiful, lovely and beloved than themselves. Enna was the more bitter
and outspoken of the two, but even Louise seldom treated her niece to
anything better than the most distant