"You declined a drive with me the last time I asked you," Mr. Embury remarked, breaking a momentary silence that had fallen between them, "but will you not be more gracious to-day? My carriage is near at hand, and I have a great desire to take you for an airing—you and the babies."

Blushing deeply, Molly said, "Yes, if you wish it, and will bring me back before I am missed."

"I shall take good care of you, as who would not of his own?" he said, bending down to look into her face with a proud, fond smile; "yes, you are mine now, dearest, and I shall never resign my claim. Ah," as he lifted his head again, "here comes your uncle, and I fancy he eyes me with distrust. Mr. Dinsmore," and he stepped forward with outstretched hand, "how do you do, sir? What do you say to receiving me into the family? I trust you will not object, for this dear girl intends to give me the right to call you uncle."

Mr. Dinsmore grasped the hand, looking in silent astonishment from one to the other. He read the story of their love in both faces—Molly's downcast and blushing, yet happy; Mr. Embury's overflowing with unfeigned delight.

"I assure you, sir," he went on, "I am fully aware that she is a prize any man might be proud to win. Your niece is no ordinary woman: her gifts and graces are many and great."

"She is all that you have said, and even more," her uncle returned, finding his voice. "And yet—you are quite sure that this is not a sudden impulse for which you may some day be sorry?"

He had stepped to Molly's other side and taken her hand in his, in a protecting, fatherly way. "It would wreck her happiness," he added, in moved tones, "and that is very dear to me."

"It cannot be dearer to you, sir, than it is to me," the lover answered; "and rest assured your fears are groundless. It is no sudden impulse on my part, but deliberate action taken after weeks of careful and prayerful consideration. You seem to stand in the place of a father to her; will you give her to me?"

"Mr. Embury, you are the noblest of men, and must forgive me that I had some suspicion that you were thoughtlessly trifling with the child's affections. I see you have won her heart, and may you be very happy together."

Mr. Dinsmore was turning away, but Mr. Embury stopped him.

"Let me thank you, sir," he said, again holding out his hand. "We are going for a little drive," he added, "and please let no one be anxious about Miss Percival. I am responsible for her safe return."

Molly's chair rolled on with rapid, steady movement to the entrance to the grounds, where Mr. Embury's carriage stood; then she felt herself carefully, tenderly lifted from one to the other and comfortably established on a softly cushioned seat.

How like a delightful dream it all seemed—the swift, pleasant motion through the pure, sweet, fragrant air; beautiful scenery on every hand; the prattle of infant voices and the whispers of love in her ear. Should she not awake presently to its unreality? awake to find herself still the lonely, unloved woman she was in her own esteem but an hour ago, and who by reason of her sad infirmity could look forward to nothing else through life?

They turned in at an open gateway, and Molly, suddenly rousing herself, said, in surprise, "We are entering some one's private grounds, are we not?" "Yes," was the quiet reply, "but there is no objection. The owner and I are on the most intimate terms. I admire the place very much, and want you to see it, so we will drive all around the grounds." And he gave the order to the coachman.

Molly looked and admired. "Charming! almost if not quite equal to Viamede."

His eyes shone. "Your taste agrees with mine," he said. "Look this way. We have a good view of the house from here. What do you think of it?"

"That it is just suited to its surroundings, and must be a delightful residence."

"So it is; and I want to show you the inside too. There's no objection," as he read hesitation and disapproval in her face; "the master and mistress are not there, and—in fact I have charge of the place just now, and am quite at liberty to show it to strangers."

The next moment they drew up before the front entrance. Mr. Embury hastily alighted and lifted out the little ones, saying in a low tone something which Molly did not hear as he set them down.

They ran in at the open door, and turning to her again he took her in his strong arms and bore her into a lordly entrance hall; then on through, one spacious, elegantly furnished room after another—parlors, library, dining and drawing-rooms—moving slowly that she might have time so gaze and admire, and now and then setting her down for a few moments in an easy chair or on a luxurious sofa, usually before a rare painting or some other beautiful work of art which he thought she would particularly enjoy.

The children had disappeared, and they were quite alone.

He had reserved a charming boudoir for the last. Open doors gave tempting glimpses of dressing and bedrooms beyond.

"These," he said, placing her in a delightfully easy, velvet cushioned chair, and standing by her side, "are the apartments of the mistress of the mansion, as you have doubtless already conjectured. What do you think of them?"

"That they are very beautiful, very luxurious. And oh what a lovely view from yonder window!"

"And from this, is it not?" he said, stepping aside and turning her chair a little that she might see, through a vista of grand old trees, the lagoon beyond sparkling in the sunlight.

"Oh that is finer still!" she cried. "I should think one might almost be content to live a close prisoner here."

"Then I may hope my dear wife will not be unhappy here? will not regret leaving the beauties of Viamede and the charming society there for this place and the companionship of its owner? Molly, dearest, this is Magnolia Hall; you are its mistress, and these are your own rooms," he said, kneeling by her side to fold her to his heart with tenderest caresses.

"It is too much, oh you are too good to me!" she sobbed, as her head dropped upon his shoulder.

On leaving Mr. Embury and Molly, Mr. Dinsmore hastened to join his wife and daughter, who were sitting together on the lawn. The interview between the lovers having taken place in a part of the grounds not visible from where they sat, they had seen nothing of it.

"You look like the bearer of glad tidings, my dear," Rose remarked, glancing inquiringly at her husband as he seated himself at her side.

"And so I am, wife," he answered joyously. "Elsie, you may spare yourself any further regrets because of your kindness to Mr. Embury. He is a noble, generous-hearted fellow, and very much in love with our poor, dear Molly. They are engaged."

"Engaged?" echoed both ladies simultaneously, as much surprised and pleased as he had hoped to see them.

"Yes," he said, and went on to repeat what had passed between himself and the newly-affianced pair. "Dear Molly," Elsie said with tears trembling in her eyes, "I trust there are many very happy days in store for her. And how pleased Aunt Enna will be, she was so desirous to bring about the match."

"Molly herself should have the pleasure of telling her."

"Yes, indeed, papa."

"There is something else," Mr. Dinsmore said. "At Mr. Embury's suggestion I wrote to Dick two or three weeks ago, telling him that there was a good opening for a physician here, and asking if he would not like to come and settle if pleased with the country. His answer came this morning, and he will be with us in a few days."

"How glad I am!" was Elsie's exclamation. "Molly's cup of happiness will be full to overflowing."

Rose, too, was rejoiced; but she had heard before of the invitation to Dick, and was less surprised at this news than Elsie was.

The ladies had their work, Mr. Dinsmore the morning paper, and the three were still sitting there when Mr. Embury's carriage returned.

Molly's face was radiant with happiness; Mr. Embury's also; and the faces of the friends who gathered about them in the library, whither he carried her, seemed to reflect the glad light in theirs. Everybody was rejoiced at Molly's good fortune, and pleased to receive Mr. Embury into the family, for they all respected and liked him.

Enna's delight on hearing the news was unbounded; she half smothered her daughter with kisses, and exclaimed over and over again, "I knew he wanted you! And didn't I tell you there'd be somebody better worth having than Elsie's lover coming after you some day? And I'm as glad as can be that my girl's going to be married the first of all—before Louise's girls, or Elsie's either!"

"I can't see that that makes the least difference, mother," Molly said, laughing for very gladness. "But oh what a good and kind man he is! and what a lovely home we are to have! for, mother, he says you are to live with us always if you like."

"Now that is nice!" Enna said, much gratified. "And is it as pretty as Viamede?"

"It is almost if not quite as beautiful as Viamede, though not quite so large; both house and grounds are, I believe, a little smaller."

"How soon are you going to be married?"

"I don't know just when, mother; the day has not been set."

"I hope it will be soon, just as soon as we can get you ready."

This was a little private chat in Molly's room after Mr. Embury had gone away. She had asked to have her chair wheeled in there, and to be left alone with her mother while she told her the news of her engagement.

"I must consult with uncle and aunt and Cousin Elsie about that," she said in answer to her mother's last remark. "Will you please open the door now and ask them to come in? I don't care if the rest come too."

"Well, Molly, when, where, and by whom is the knot to be tied?" asked Mr. Dinsmore playfully, as he stood by her side looking down with a kindly smile at her blushing, happy face.

"O uncle, so many questions at once!"

"Well, one at a time then: When?"

"That foolishly impatient man wanted me to say to-night," she answered, laughing, "and when I told him how absurd an idea that was, he insisted that a week was quite long enough for him to go on living alone."

"A week!" exclaimed her aunt. "You surely did not consent to that?"

"No," Aunt Rose, "but I believe I half consented to try to make my preparations in two weeks. I doubt if we can quite settle that question now."

"There must be time allowed for furnishing you with a handsome trousseau, my dear child," Elsie said, "but possibly it can be accomplished in a fortnight. As to the next question—where?—you surely will let it be here, in my house?"

"Gladly, cousin, if pleasing to you," Molly answered with a grateful, loving look. "And Mr. Keith shall officiate, if he will. Of course it must be a very quiet affair; I should prefer that under any circumstances."

"You will invite Dick, will you not?" her uncle asked with a twinkle in his eye.

"Dick! oh the dear fellow! I ought to have him. I wonder if I could persuade him to leave his practice long enough to come. Two weeks would give him time to get here if I write at once."

"No need," her uncle replied. "Providence permitting, he will be here in less than half that time."

Then the whole story came out in answer to Molly's look of astonished inquiry, and her cup of happiness was indeed full to overflowing.

"Where did you drive, Molly?" asked Isa. "But I suppose you hardly know; you could see nothing but—your companion?"

"Ah, Isa, do you judge of me by yourself?" queried Molly gleefully. "By the way, though, I had three companions. But don't I know where I went?"

Then smiling, laughing, blushing, rosy and happy as they had never seen her before, she described the darling baby girls and the beautiful home. But the sweet words of love that had been as music to her ear were too sacred for any other.

She had quite a large and certainly very attentive and interested audience, the whole family having gathered in the room. Enna and the young girls were especially delighted with the tale she had to tell.

"It's just like a story—the very nicest kind of a story!" cried Vi, clapping her hands in an ecstasy of delight when Molly came to that part of her narrative where she learned that she herself was to be the mistress of the lordly mansion she had entered as a stranger visitor, with all its wealth of luxury and beauty.

The next two or three weeks were full of pleasant bustle and excitement, preparations for the wedding being pushed forward with all possible dispatch, Mr. Embury pleading his loneliness and that he wanted Molly's relatives and friends to see her fairly settled in her new home before they left Viamede for the North.

Mr. and Mrs. Dinsmore, with Enna, Isa, the younger Elsie and Violet, took a trip to New Orleans and spent several days in shopping there, laying in great store of rich, costly and beautiful things for Molly's adornment.

Mr. Embury, too, paid a flying visit to the city, which resulted in an elegant set of jewels for his bride and some new articles of furniture for her apartments. Dick arrived at about the expected time and was joyfully welcomed. His surprise and delight in view of Molly's prospects were quite sufficient to satisfy her, and so greatly was he pleased with the country that in a few days he announced his purpose to remain.

Cyril had received a unanimous call from the two churches, and after mature deliberation accepted it, upon which Elsie doubled the salary she had formerly paid, and told him playfully and in private that if he would get a wife whom she could approve she would repair, enlarge, and refurnish the cottage.

"You are extremely kind and generous cousin," he stammered, coloring deeply, "and I—I would be only too glad to follow out your suggestion."

"Well," she returned in the same playful tone, "what is there to hinder?"

"The only woman I could fancy, could love, is so beautiful, fascinating, accomplished, so altogether attractive in every way, that—I fear she could hardly be expected to content herself with a poor minister."

"I cannot say how that is," Elsie answered with a smile, "but judging by myself I should think she would give her hand wherever her heart has gone; and if I were a man I should not despair until I had asked and been refused. And, Cyril, though not rich in this world's goods, I consider you a fit match for the highest—you who are a son of the King."

"That sonship is more to me than all the world has to give," he said, looking at her with glistening eyes, "but to others it may seem of little worth."

"Not to any one who is of the right spirit to be truly an helpmeet to you. I think I know where your affections are set, my dear cousin, and that by her the true riches are esteemed as by you and me."

He thanked her warmly by word and look for her kind sympathy and encouragement, and there the interview ended.

But that night, when Elsie was about retiring, Isa came to her, all smiles, tears and blushes, to tell the story of love given and returned. She and Cyril had spent the evening wandering about the grounds alone together in the moonlight, and he had wooed and won his heart's choice.

"Dear Isa, I am very, very glad for you and for Cyril," Elsie whispered, clasping her cousin close, and kissing again and again the blushing cheek. "I cannot wish anything better for you than that you may be as happy in your wedded life as my dear husband and I were."

"Nor could I ask a better wish," Isa returned with emotion; "but ah! I fear I can never be the perfect wife you were! And, cousin, I can hardly hope for mamma's approval of my choice."

"Do not trouble about that now; I think we shall find means to win her consent."

"I think grandpa and uncle are sure to approve."

"Yes; and they will be powerful advocates with Aunt Louise; so I think you need not hesitate to be as happy as you can," Elsie answered with a smile. "Do you wish the matter kept secret?"

"Mr. Keith is with grandpa and uncle now," Isa said, blushing, "and I don't care how soon Aunt Rose and the girls and Dick know it; but if you please, the rest may wait until mamma is heard from."

Molly was delighted, though not greatly astonished, when Isa told her the next morning.

"How nice that we shall be near neighbors," she exclaimed. "I wish you would just decide to make it a double wedding."

"Thank you," laughed Isa; "do you forget that it is now just one week from your appointed day? or do you think my trousseau could be gotten up in a week, though it takes three for yours?"

"I really didn't stop to think," Molly acknowledged with a happy laugh; "but, Isa, you are so beautiful that you need no finery to add to your attractions, while my plainness requires a good deal."

"Molly," Isa said, standing before her and gazing fixedly and admiringly into the glad, blooming face, "I think you have neglected your mirror of late or you wouldn't talk so."

A great surprise came to Molly on the morning of her wedding day. Her cousin Elsie gave her ten thousand dollars, and Mr. Embury settled fifty thousand upon her, beside presenting her with the jewels he had purchased—a set of diamonds and pearls.

Also she received many handsome presents from uncle, aunt, brother and cousins, and from Mr. Embury's children.

He had sent for his two boys, fine manly fellows of ten and twelve, to be present at the marriage, which was to take place in the evening, and had brought them that morning for a short call upon his chosen bride.

She and they seemed mutually pleased, and Molly, who had been somewhat apprehensive lest they should dislike the match, felt as if the last stone were removed from her path.

She gratified Mr. Embury greatly by a request that the baby girls and all the servants from Magnolia Hall might be present, and that he would let Louis, his eldest son, stand up with them as third groomsman, Dick and Harold Travilla being first and second. Isa, the younger Elsie and Violet were the bridesmaids, all wearing white for the occasion.

It was a very quiet wedding indeed, no one at all present but the members of the two families, servants included—these last grouping themselves about the open door into the hall.

Molly sat in her chair looking very sweet and pretty in white silk, point lace, and abundance of orange blossoms freshly gathered from the trees on the lawn.

The bridesmaids looked very lovely also; groom and groomsmen handsome and happy.

Mr. Keith made the ceremony short but solemn and impressive. The usual greetings and congratulations followed; Elsie's to the bride a whispered hope, accompanied with tears and smiles, that every year might find herself and husband nearer and dearer to each other.

An elegant banquet succeeded, and shortly after the happy bridegroom bore his new-made wife away to her future home.