t prowl about here long without being seen and arrested as a
suspicious character, an abolitionist, or some other sort of
scoundrel--which last you know you are," Arthur could not help adding in a
parenthesis. "So take my advice, and retreat while you can. Now out o' the
way, if you please, and let me pass."

Jackson sullenly stood aside, letting go the rein, and Arthur galloped
off.

In the meantime, the older members of the family at the Oaks were quietly
enjoying themselves in the library, where bright lights, and a cheerful
wood-fire snapping and crackling on the hearth, added to the sense of
comfort imparted by handsome furniture, books, painting, statuary, rich
carpet, soft couches, and easy chairs.

The children had been sent to bed. Mr. and Mrs. Dinsmore sat by the centre
table, the one busy with the evening paper, the other sewing, but now and
then casting a furtive glance at a distant sofa, where Mr. Travilla and
Elsie were seated side by side, conversing in an undertone.

"This is comfort, having you to myself again," he was saying, as he
watched admiringly the delicate fingers busied with a crochet needle,
forming bright meshes of scarlet zephyr. "How I missed you when you were
gone! and yet, do you know, I cannot altogether regret the short
separation, since otherwise I should have missed my precious budget of
letters."

"Ah," she said, lifting her merry brown eyes to his face for an instant,
then dropping them again, with a charming smile and blush, "do you think
that an original idea, or rather that it is original only with yourself?"

"And you are glad to have mine? though not nearly so sweet and fresh as
yours." How glad he looked as he spoke.

"Ah!" she answered archly, "I'll not tell you what I have done with them,
lest you grow conceited. But I have a confession to make," and she laughed
lightly. "Will you absolve me beforehand?"

"Yes, if you are penitent, and promise to offend no more. What is it?"

"I see I have aroused your curiosity, I shall not keep you in suspense. I
am corresponding with a young gentleman. Here is a letter from him,
received to-day;" drawing it from her pocket as she spoke, she put it into
his hand.

"I have no wish to examine it," he said gravely, laying it on her lap. "I
can trust you fully, Elsie."

"But I should like you to read it; 'tis from Mr. Mason, my chaplain at
Viamede, and gives a lengthy, and very interesting account of the
Christmas doings there."