end to the conversation.
Horace was not less devoted to his elder sister now than in childhood's
days; Arthur, distant and reserved with most people, had of late learned
to be very frank and open with her, sure of an attentive hearing, of
sympathy, and that his confidence would never be betrayed.
She never sneered, never laughed in contempt, nor ever seemed to think
herself better or wiser, than others. Her advice, when asked, was given
with sweet simplicity and humility, as of one not qualified, in her own
estimation, to teach, or desirous to usurp authority over others: yet
she had a clear intellect and sound judgment, she opened her mouth with
wisdom and in her tongue was the law of kindness. There seemed a sort of
magnetism about her, the attraction of a loving, sympathetic nature,
that always drew to her the young of both sexes, and the large majority
of older people also.
The three young men gathered round her, hanging upon her sweet looks,
her words, her smiles, as ardent lovers do upon those of their
mistress.
Somehow the conversation presently turned upon love and marriage, and
she lectured them, half-playfully, half seriously, upon the duties of
husbands.
She bade them be careful in their choice, remembering that it was for
life, and looking for worth rather than beauty or wealth; then after
marriage not to be afraid of spoiling the wife with too much care and
thoughtfulness for her comfort, and happiness, or the keeping up of the
little attentions so pleasant to give and receive, and so lavishly
bestowed in the days of courtship.
"Ah, Elsie, you are thinking of your own husband, and holding him up as
a model to us," said Horace laughingly.
"Yes," she answered, with a blush and smile, a tender light shining in
the soft brown eyes, "that is true. Ah, the world would be full of happy
wives if all the husbands would copy his example! He is as much a lover
now as the day he asked me to be his wife; more indeed, for we grow
dearer and dearer to each other as the years roll on. Never a day passes
that he does not tell me of his love by word and deed, and the story is
as sweet to me now, as when first I heard it."
"Ah, good wives make good husbands," said Mr. Travilla, who had entered
unobserved, just in time to hear the eulogy upon him. "Boys, let each
of you get a wife like mine, and you can not fail to be good husbands."
"Good husbands make good wives," she retorted, looking up into his face
wi
|