MARTHA FINLEY Ultimate Collection – 35+ Novels in One Volume (Including The Complete Elsie Dinsmore Series & Mildred Keith Collection). Finley Martha

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СКАЧАТЬ not stand any longer. You will need all your strength for your journey." And he would have led her to a sofa.

      But she gently declined. "Ah, I am much too fine to sit down just now, my dear, kind father, I should crush my lace badly. So please let me stand. I am not conscious of weariness."

      He yielded, saying with a smile, "That would be a pity; for it is very beautiful. And surely you ought to be allowed your own way to-night if ever."

      "To-night and ever after," whispered the happy groom in the ear of his bride.

      A loving, trustful look was her only answer.

      A continued rolling of wheels without, and buzz of voices coming from veranda, hall, and reception rooms, could now be heard.

      "The house must be filling fast," said Mr. Dinsmore, "and as host I should be present to receive and welcome my guests, Travilla," and his voice trembled slightly, as he took Elsie's right hand and held it for a moment closely clasped in his; "I do not fear to trust you with what to me is a greater treasure than all the gold of California. Cherish my darling as the apple of your eye; I know you will."

      He bent down for another silent caress, laid the hand in that of his friend, and left the room.

      "And you do not fear to trust me, my little friend?" Travilla's tones, too, were tremulous with deep feeling.

      "I have not the shadow of a fear," she answered, her eyes meeting his with an earnest, childlike confidence.

      "Bless you for those words, dearest," he said; "God helping me you never shall have cause to regret them."

      A door opened, and a handsome, dark eyed boy, a miniature likeness of his father, came hurrying in. "Elsie! Papa said I might come and see how beautiful you are!" he cried, as if resolutely mastering some strong emotion, "but I'm not to say anything to make you cry. I'm not to hug you hard and spoil your dress. Oh, but you do look like an angel, only without the wings. Mr. Travilla, you'll be good, good to her, won't you?" and the voice almost broke down.

      "I will, indeed, Horace; you may be sure of that. And you needn't feel as if you are losing her, she'll be back again in a few weeks, please God."

      "But not to live at home any more!" he cried impetuously. "No, no, I wasn't to say that, I——"

      "Come here and kiss me, my dear little brother," Elsie said tenderly; "and you shall hug me, too, as hard as you like, before I go."

      He was not slow to accept the invitation, and evidently had a hard struggle with himself, to refrain from giving the forbidden hug.

      "You may hug me instead, Horace, if you like," said Mr. Travilla; "you know we're very fond of each other, and are going to be brothers now."

      "Yes, that I will, for I do like you ever so much," cried the boy, springing into the arms held out to him, and receiving and returning a warm embrace, while the sister looked on with eyes glistening with pleasure.

      "Now, in a few minutes I'll become your brother Edward; and that's what I want you to call me in future. Will you do it?"

      "Yes, sir; if papa doesn't forbid me."

      A light tap at the door leading into the boudoir, and Walter put in his head. "The company, the clergy-man, and the hour have come. Are the bride and groom ready?"

      "Yes."

      Releasing the child, Mr. Travilla drew Elsie's hand within his arm. For an instant he bent his eyes with earnest, questioning gaze upon her face. It wore an expression that touched him to the heart, so perfectly trustful, so calmly, peacefully happy, yet with a deep tender solemnity mingling with and subduing her joy. The soft eyes were misty with unshed tears as she lifted them to his.

      "It is for life," she whispered; "and I am but young and foolish; shall you never regret?"

      "Never, never; unless you grow weary of your choice."

      The answering smile was very sweet and confiding. "I have not chosen lightly, and do not fear because it is for life," was its unspoken language.

      And truly it was no hasty, ill-considered step she was taking, but one that had been calmly, thoughtfully pondered in many an hour of solitude and communion with that unseen Friend whom from earliest youth she had acknowledged in all her ways, and who had, according to His promise, directed her paths. There was no excitement, no nervous tremor, about her then or during the short ceremony that made them no more twain but one flesh. So absorbed was she in the importance and solemnity of the act she was performing, that little room was left for thought of anything else—her personal appearance, or the hundreds of pairs of eyes fixed upon her; even her father's presence, and the emotions swelling in his breast were for the time forgotten. Many marked the rapt expression of her face, and the clear and distinct though low tones of the sweet voice as she pledged herself to "love, honor, and obey." Mr. Travilla's promise "to love, honor, and cherish to life's end," was given no less earnestly and emphatically.

      The deed was done; and relatives and friends gathered about them with kindly salutations and good wishes.

      Mr. Dinsmore was the first to salute the bride. "God bless and keep you, my daughter," were his tenderly whispered words.

      "Dear, dear papa," was all she said in response, but her eyes spoke volumes. "I am yours still, your very own, and glad it is so," they said.

      Then came Rose with her tender, silent caress, half-sorrowful, half-joyful, and Mrs. Travilla with her altogether joyous salutation, "My dear daughter, may your cup of happiness be ever filled to overflowing;" while Mr. Dinsmore to hide his emotion turned jocosely to Travilla with a hearty shake of the hand, and "I wish you joy, my son."

      "Thank you, father," returned the groom gravely, but with a twinkle of merriment in his eye.

      Aunt Wealthy, standing close by awaiting her turn to greet the bride, shook her head at her nephew. "Ah, you are quite too old for that, Horace. Mr. Vanilla, I wish you joy; but what am I to call you now?"

      "Edward, if you please, Aunt Wealthy."

      "Ah, yes, that will do nicely; it's a good name—so easily forgotten. Elsie, dearie, you went through it brave as a lion. May you never wish you'd lived your lane like your auld auntie."

      "As if single blessedness could ever be real blessedness!" sneered Enna, coming up just in time to catch the last words.

      "Our feelings change as we grow older," returned Miss Stanhope, in her gentle, refined tones, "and we come to look upon quiet and freedom from care as very desirable things."

      "And I venture to say that old age is not likely to find Mrs. Percival so happy and contented as is my dear old maiden aunt," remarked Mr. Dinsmore.

      "Yet we will hope it may, papa," said Elsie, receiving Enna's salutation with kindly warmth.

      But the list of relatives, near connections, and intimate friends, is too long for particular mention of each. All the Dinsmores were there, both married and single; also most of the Allisons. Harold had not come with the others, nor had he either accepted or rejected the invitation.

      On first raising her eyes upon the conclusion of the ceremony, had Elsie really seen, far back in the shadow of the doorway, a face white, rigid, hopeless with misery as his when last they met and parted? СКАЧАТЬ