"Yes, sir; and she's the picture of mamma;" remarked Eddie; "everybody says so."

"Ah ha, ah ha! um h'm, ah ha!"

"Has you dot any 'ittle boys and dirls at your house?" asked Harold.

"Yes, my man, a quiver full of them."

"Are they good? do they love Jesus?" asked Vi. "Please tell us about them."

"If you like to, sir," said Elsie, with a sweet and gentle gravity.

"Vi, dear, you know we mustn't tease."

"No, I didn't mean to tease," Vi answered, blushing. "Please excuse me, sir, and don't tell it 'less you want to."

"No, no; it will give me pleasure, my dear. I enjoy talking of my darlings; especially now when they are so far away."

He seemed about to begin, when Elsie, blushing deeply, said, "Excuse me, sir, I have been very remiss in my hospitalities. It is early, and perhaps you have not breakfasted."

"Yes, thank you my dear, I took breakfast at the village hotel, where I arrived last night."

"But you will take a cup of coffee and some fruit--"

Her sentence was broken off; for at that instant a lady and gentleman came galloping up the avenue and the little ones hailed them with a joyous shout, "Papa and mamma!"

Another moment and Mr. Travilla had dismounted, gallantly a.s.sisted his wife to do the same and together they stepped into the veranda. Both bowed politely to the stranger, and the children running to them cried, "Mamma, mamma, it is your cousin from Scotland."

She turned inquiringly to him, a flush of pleasure on her face.

He had risen from his seat, and was coming toward her with outstretched hand and earnest, admiring gaze. "My name is Ronald Lilburn; your maternal grandmother and mine were sisters," he said, "your grandmother's marriage was displeasing to her father and all intercourse between her and the rest of the family was broken off in obedience to his stern command; and thus they lost sight of each other. I have brought proofs of--"

But Elsie's hand was already laid in his, while glad tears sprang to her eyes.

"You shall show us them at another time if you will; but I could never doubt such a face as yours, and can not tell you how glad I am to have at last found a relative on my mother's side of the house. Cousin, you are welcome, welcome to Ion!" And she turned to her husband.

"Yes," he said, offering his hand with the greatest cordiality, "welcome indeed, and not more so to my little wife than to myself."

"Thanks to you both," he said with a bow and smile. "Cousin," with an earnest look at his hostess, "you are _very_ like a picture I have of your grandmother. But," with a glance at the wide-eyed little ones, looking on and listening in wonder and surprise, "can it be that you are the mother of all these? yourself scarce more than a bairn in appearance."

Elsie laughed lightly. "Ah, cousin, you have not examined me closely yet I have not been a bairn for many years. How glad papa will be, Edward, to see a relative of my mother's!"

"No doubt of it, wife, and we must send him word immediately."

Mr. Lilburn had no reason to complain of his reception: he was treated with the utmost hospitality, and his coming made the occasion of general rejoicing in the household. Refreshments were promptly set before him, a handsome suite of apartments appropriated to his use, and a man-servant directed to attend upon his person.

A note was sent to the Oaks inviting the whole family to Ion; the children were given a holiday, and Elsie, her husband, and father, spent the morning in conversation with their guest, and in examining family records, miniatures and photographs which he had brought with him.

The day pa.s.sed most agreeably to all; the new found relatives were mutually pleased and interested in each other.

Mr. Lilburn was evidently a gentleman of intelligence, polish and refinement; seemed to be an earnest Christian, too, and in easy circ.u.mstances.

The little folks made friends with him at once, and as children are apt to be quick at reading character, the older ones felt this to be a confirmation of the good opinion he had already won from them.

Chapter Sixteenth.

"I know that there are angry spirits And turbulent mutterers of stifled treason, Who lurk in narrow places, and walk out m.u.f.fled to whisper curses to the night.

Disbanded soldiers, discontented ruffians And desperate libertines who lurk in taverns."

--BYRON.

A bright, warm day, some hours after sunrise. A man of rather gentlemanly appearance, well, though not handsomely dressed, is riding leisurely along the public highway. He wears a broad-brimmed straw hat as a protection from the sun, and a linen duster somewhat soiled by the dust of travel. He has a shrewd though not unkindly face, and a keen grey eye whose quick glances seem to take in everything within its range of vision.

It is a lonely bit of road he is traveling and he moves with caution evidently on the alert for any appearance of danger.

Presently he perceives another solitary horseman approaching from the opposite direction, and at the sight lays his hand on the pistols in his belt concealed by the duster, to make sure that they are ready for instant use; but at the same time keeping steadily on his way.

The new comer is a slender boy of eighteen or twenty, not at all dangerous looking.

As the two near each other each lifts his hat with a courteous, "Good morning, sir," the lad at the same time carelessly sliding his right hand down the left lappel of his coat.

The movement, slight as it was, had not escaped the watchful grey eyes, and instantly their owner replied by sliding his left hand in the same manner down the right lappel of his coat.

The lad then ran his fingers lightly through his hair; the other imitated his action; the lad opened his coat and seemed to be searching for a pin; the man opened his, took out a pin and handed it to him with a polite bow.

"Thanks! all right sir; I perceive you are one of us," said the boy, drawing a paper from his pocket and presenting it to the man. "Miller's Woods!" and touching his hat he galloped away.

There was a twinkle in the grey eyes as they shot one swift glance after him; then the paper was opened and examined with minute care.

On it was a half moon with several dates written in different places about it, and that was all; yet its new possessor regarded it with great satisfaction, and after a careful scrutiny bestowed it safely in his breast pocket.

"I'll be on hand without fail," he said, in a low, confidential tone, perhaps addressing his horse, as there was no one else within hearing.

"To-night! they're late serving my notice; but better late than never; for me, though perhaps not for themselves," he added with a grim smile.

"Well, my preparations won't take long: dress-suit's all ready."

He kept on his way at the old leisurely pace, presently came in sight of Fairview, pa.s.sed it, then Ion, diligently using his eyes as he went, made a circuit of several miles and returned to the town which he had left some hours previously.

Dismounting at the village tavern, he gave his horse into the care of the hostler, and joined a group of idlers about the bar-room door. They were talking politics and one appealed to him for his opinion.

"Don't ask me," he said with a deprecatory gesture! "I'm no party man and never meddle with politics."

"On the fence, hey? Just the place for a coward and a sneak," returned his interlocutor contemptuously.

The other half drew his bowie knife, then thrusting it back again, said good-humoredly, "I'll let that pa.s.s, Green; you've taken a drop too much and are not quite compos mentis just now."

"Be quiet, will you, Green;" spoke up one of his companions, "you know well enough Snell's no coward. Why didn't he risk his life the other day, to save your boy from drowning?"