As no invitations to the wedding were to be sent to relatives at a distance, it was thought quite as well not to inform them of Molly's engagement until after the marriage had taken place; beside, as the preparations were so hurried, no one had much time for correspondence.

Isadore Conly did not once during the three weeks write to Roselands, excusing herself on the double plea that her last letter remained unanswered, and that she was particularly busy about the trousseau.

She found little time to spare from that which was not taken up in walking or riding with Cyril.

He proposed writing to her mother immediately after declaring his love; but she begged him to delay a little till her grandfather and uncle should have time to consider how to bring their influence to bear upon Mrs. Conly in the way most likely to win her approval of his suit.

The day after the wedding saw a number of letters directed to Roselands, dropped into the Viamede mail-bag, and a few days later they reached their destination.

The family—consisting of Mrs. Conly, Calhoun, Arthur, Virginia, Walter (who was at home for a few days on a furlough, being now a lieutenant in the U. S. Army), and several younger ones—were at breakfast when Pomp came in with the mail-bag.

Calhoun opened it and distributed the contents.

"Letters from Viamede at last," he remarked; "three for you, mother, from grandpa, uncle and—somebody else; one for Walter (Dick's handwriting! I didn't know he was there) and one for Virginia."

"From Isa," Virginia said as she glanced at the superscription; then tearing open the envelope, and glancing down the first page, "Molly is married! to a rich planter, too! Will wonders never cease!"

A simultaneous exclamation of surprise from all present.

"Nonsense, Isa's hoaxing you," said Walter, stirring his coffee. "Here, let me see the letter."

"No. Open your own."

"That's not in Isa's line," remarked Arthur, "but really it is very astonishing news. What does Dick say, Wal? He went down there to attend the wedding, I presume?" "No; didn't know a word about it till he got there," Walter said, giving a hasty perusal to the not very lengthy epistle; "went to settle; good opening for a doctor; splendid country, everything lovely, likes brother-in-law immensely, is overjoyed at Molly's good luck, says she's as happy as a queen."

"Which may mean much or little," remarked Conly.

His mother cleared her throat emphatically, and all eyes turned to her. She held an open letter in her hand, and her face looked flushed and angry.

"Isa, too, it seems, has lost her heart," she said in a bitter, sarcastic tone; "and with her usual good sense, has bestowed it upon a poor clergyman. Doubtless he has heard of her Aunt Delaford's intentions—Elsie perhaps has given him the hint, he being a relative of hers—and thinks he is securing a fortune. But if Isa throws herself away in such fashion, Sister Delaford may change her mind."

Calhoun and Arthur both repelled with warmth the insinuation against Elsie; the latter adding that he thought Isa's personal charms were quite sufficient of themselves to captivate a man who was not in pursuit of wealth.

"And Isa," remarked Calhoun, "is so unworldly that wealth would be a matter of small consideration to her where her heart was concerned." "A fact that should make her friends the more careful how they encourage her in taking a poor man," said the mother; "but my father and brother are both strongly in favor of this adventurer's suit."

"Adventurer, mother! I thought you said he was a clergyman!"

"Well, Calhoun, I don't see any contradiction there. But his name is Keith, and that explains it all, for my father was always very partial to those relatives of his first wife. Horace, too, of course."

"But as Isa is a good deal more nearly related to them, they are very fond of her, and, men not easily deceived or taken in, I think we may safely trust to their judgment. You won't oppose what they so highly approve, mother?"

"I don't know; must take time to think it over. Do you and Arthur come with me to the library," she said, rising with the letter in her hand. "I see you have both finished your breakfast."

They rose instantly, and followed her from the room, Walter looking after them and muttering discontentedly, "I think mother might take me into her counsels, too."

"You are too young and foolish," said Virginia.

"The first objection doesn't lie against you, though the second may," he retorted. "You'd better look to your laurels. Isa and Molly are both well ahead of you."

"What of that?" she said, reddening with vexation. "Isa's two years older than I, and taking a poor minister whom I wouldn't look at."

"Sour grapes," suggested her brother, teasingly. "And Molly's not a year older than you, and has married rich."

"A second-hand husband!" sneered Virginia; at which Walter laughed uproariously.

"O Virgie, Virgie, those grapes are terribly sour!" he said. "But do let us hear what Isa has to say about it."

"I haven't finished the letter; but there, take it; what do I care about her fine dresses and presents, and the splendors of Magnolia Hall?"

"Well," he cried presently, "Cousin Elsie did the thing handsomely! and he's a splendid fellow, if he is second-hand. No wonder Dick's pleased. I only wish my sisters might all do as well."

In the library Calhoun was saying, as he laid down his uncle's letter, which he had just read aloud, "Cousin Elsie is certainly the most generous of women! Mother, you could not have read this when you uttered that insinuation against her a few moments since?"

Mrs. Conly colored violently under her son's searching gaze. "Twenty-five thousand is a mere trifle to her," she said, bridling, "and you perceive she promises Isa that dower in the event of her marrying that poor relation of her own."

"It is extremely generous, nevertheless!" exclaimed both her sons in a breath.

"And I do not think it by any means a bad match for Isa," Arthur went on—"a good man, of fine talent, receiving a very comfortable salary, a lovely home rent free, very little expense except for clothing, seeing they are—as uncle says—to have all the fruit, vegetables, nearly their whole living, in fact, from the Viamede fields and orchards; use of carriages and horses too, whenever they like."

"No, it isn't so bad," their mother acknowledged, "and if she gets her Aunt Delaford's money, she will really be very far from poor. But I dislike the thought of having her, with her beauty and talents, buried, as one may say, in that out-of-the-way corner of the world."

"But she chooses for herself, and ought to be the best judge of what is for her own happiness," Calhoun said. "So you will consent, mother?"

"Oh yes, yes, of course! But I'll take no blame from your Aunt Delaford; nor from Isa either, if ever she sees cause to repent."

So a letter was sent that made glad the hearts of the lovers, spite of some ungraciousness of tone. Isa's letter, giving, as it did, a minute description of the trousseau, the wedding, Magnolia Hall, Mr. Embury and his children, and telling of the generous settlements upon the bride made by him and her cousin Elsie, was read and re-read by Mrs. Conly and Virginia with great interest, which was yet not altogether pleasurable.

They were glad that Molly had now a good home of her own, and particularly that her mother was to share it—a home so far away from Roselands that Enna was not likely to trouble them any more, for her feebleness of intellect made her something of a mortification to them of late years—yet the good fortune of the poor crippled niece and cousin was too great, too strongly in contrast with their own rather straitened circumstances, not to arouse some feelings of envy and jealousy in persons of their haughty and overbearing disposition.

"Dear me, I wonder why some people have all the good fortune and others none!" exclaimed Virginia angrily. "I should say fifty thousand was quite enough for Molly—especially in addition to the rich husband and loads of handsome presents—and that ten thousand would have been much better bestowed upon you or me, mamma."

"You've only to get married, sis, and probably she'll do the same handsome thing by you," remarked Walter, who happened to be within hearing.

"Not she! I never had the good fortune to be one of her favorites."

"Well, Isa can't say that, for she's certainly doing the handsome thing by her."

"What?"

"So mother hasn't told you? She's promised that the day Isa marries her cousin, Cyril Keith, she'll hand over twenty-five thousand dollars to them."

"That was to get mamma's consent. Mamma, I wouldn't be bought if I were you," Virginia said scornfully.

"You wouldn't?" laughed Walter. "I tell you you'd sell yourself to-day to any man worth half a million, or even something less."

"Walter, you are perfectly insulting," cried Virginia, her eyes flashing and her cheek flushing hotly. "I wish your furlough ended to-day."

"Thank you, my very affectionate sister," he said, bowing low as he stood before her. "Why don't you wish I'd get shot in the next fight with the Indians? Well, I'll tell you what it is," he went on presently, "if I were one of Cousin Elsie's children—Ed, for instance—I'd enter a pretty strong protest against these wholesale acts of benevolence toward poor relations."

"She can afford it," said his mother loftily, "and I must say I should have a much higher appreciation of her generosity if she had given Isa the money without any conditions attached."

"But Isa wouldn't, or I greatly mistake."

"Do you mean to say you think there has been a conspiracy between them?" demanded his mother, growing very red and angry.

"No, no, mother, nothing of the kind! but Cousin Elsie is a woman of keen observation, delicate tact and great discernment; and she had Isa's happiness much at heart."

"Really," she sneered, "I have but just made the delightful discovery that I have a Solomon among my sons!"

"I think it was mean not to invite us to the wedding," said Virginia.

"No; that was right enough," corrected her mother; "being in deep mourning for her husband, she could not, of course, give Molly anything but the quietest sort of wedding."

"Well, Isa will come home to be married?"

"Of course; and I shall insist upon time to have everything done properly and without any one being hurried to death."

Immediately upon the reception of Mrs. Conly's letter giving consent to the match between her daughter and Cyril Keith, the work of adding to, repairing and improving the cottage destined to be the future home of the young couple was begun. It was a matter of great interest, not to Cyril and Isa alone, but to the whole family of Dinsmores and Travillas; and their departure from Viamede was delayed some weeks that Elsie and her father and grandfather might oversee and direct the workmen.

It was going to be a really commodious and beautiful residence when completed. Elsie determined that it should be prettily furnished, too, and found great pleasure in planning for the comfort and enjoyment of these cousins.

And Molly's happiness was a constant delight to her. There was daily intercourse between Viamede and Magnolia Hall, Mr. Embury driving Molly over almost every day to see her relatives, and Dick bringing his mother, usually on horseback.

Dick was making his home with his sister for the present, at Mr. Embury's urgent request, and was showing himself a good and affectionate son to Enna.

The visits were returned, too, even Elsie going over frequently for a short call, because she saw that Molly very keenly enjoyed being in a position to extend hospitality to all her friends, and especially herself, as one to whom she had long been indebted for a happy home.

"Oh, cousin," Molly said to her one day when they were alone together in her beautiful boudoir, "I am so happy! my husband is so kind, so affectionate! I cannot understand how it is that he is so fond and even proud of me—helpless cripple that I am. But I have learned to be thankful even for that," she added, tears springing to her eyes, "because he says it was that that first drew his attention to me; and, strangely enough, his pity soon turned to admiration and love. Oh he has such a big, generous heart!"

"He has indeed!" Elsie said. "But, Molly dear, you underrate yourself. I do not wonder that he admires and is proud of your brave, cheerful courage under your hard trial, and of your talents and the name you are making for yourself as both a translator and original writer; I hope you will not give up your work entirely now that there is no pecuniary necessity for it, for I think it is bringing a blessing to yourself and to others."

"No, oh no; I shall not give it up while I can believe it is doing something for the Master's cause. Louis does not wish me to while I enjoy it, and I find he is just the critic I need to help me to improve. I had a letter from Virgie yesterday," she went on with a happy laugh, "congratulating me on being no longer compelled to work, yet pitying me because I am a stepmother."

"That does not trouble you?" Elsie said, inquiringly. "Oh no! The boys, Louis and Fred, are so much like their father—seeming to love me all the better for my helplessness (by the way, Louis, my husband, says it is a positive delight to him to take me in his arms and lift me about)—and the baby girls are as lovely and dear as they can be. I wouldn't for anything part with one of the whole four."

"Dear child!" Elsie said, embracing her with full heart and eyes, "I am so glad, so happy for you that it is so! And how your mother and brother seem to enjoy your good fortunes!"

"Yes; Dick is such a dear fellow! and mother—really it is just a pleasure to see how she delights in it all. And I think she couldn't be fonder of the children if she were their own grandmother."

"How glad, how thankful I am that we came to Viamede this winter," Elsie said, after a moment's silent musing; "grandpa has so entirely recovered his health in consequence, a favorable opening has been found for Dick, and four other people are made happy in mutual love who might, perhaps, never have met otherwise—all this, beside dear Mrs. Carrington having the melancholy pleasure of nursing her poor nephew through his last illness. How true is the promise, 'In all thy ways acknowledge him, and he shall direct thy paths.'"

"You take a very unselfish delight in other people's happiness, cousin," Molly remarked. "And Isa is very happy."

"Yes, and Cyril too," Elsie answered with a smile. "I sometimes think my Elsie half envies them—thinking of Lester so far away. But her turn will come too, I trust, poor, dear child!"

May was well advanced, the weather already very warm in the Teche country when at last our friends set out upon their return to their more northern homes.

Everything there was looking very lovely on their arrival. Friends, kindred and servants rejoiced over their return, all in good health.

Elsie and her children took up again the old, quiet life at Ion, missing Molly not a little, and feeling afresh, for a time, the absence of one far nearer and dearer.

Mr. and Mrs. Dinsmore spent some weeks with their other children, then again made their home at Ion, at Elsie's urgent solicitation. In the loneliness of her widowhood she knew not how to do without her father.

In order to secure her cousin Elsie's presence at her wedding, Isa insisted upon a very quiet one, only relatives and very intimate friends to be invited to witness the ceremony; but to please her mother and Virginia, there was afterward a brilliant reception. The marriage took place the last of June, and the next two months were spent principally among Cyril's relatives at the North.