“Ah, how I wish poor dear Marian was blessed with such a father as mine,” Lula said to herself as she moved noiselessly about her room getting ready for bed. “But I doubt if there is another quite so dear and good—though Mamma Vi says hers was, and Grandma Elsie seems to think hers could not possibly be excelled! The idea! I’m as glad as can be that I wasn’t born his child, though the older he grows the better and kinder he seems to be. And that’s the way it ought to be with all of us; papa says so, and I know it’s according to Bible teachings. ‘Grow in grace, and in the knowledge of our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ,’ it says. Ah me! there’s nobody needs to do that more than you yourself, you bad-tempered, wilful Lulu Raymond. I am glad you have a father who understands the business of training you up in the way you should go, as well as mine does,” and presently, when he came in, she turned to him with a remark to that effect.

“If I have succeeded in training my children at all in the right way, it is only by the wisdom given me of God in answer to earnest prayer for it,” he replied with grave earnestness. “Now good-night, my dear little daughter,” again laying a hand tenderly upon her head. “‘The Lord bless thee and keep thee; the Lord make his face to shine upon thee, and be gracious unto thee; the Lord lift up his countenance upon thee, and give thee peace.’”

“Dear papa, thank you,” she said, lifting dewy eyes to his; “it is such a beautiful, beautiful blessing!”

“It is indeed! the blessing which the Lord directed Moses to give to Aaron and his sons to use in blessing the children of Israel; adding ‘and they shall put my name upon the children of Israel, and I will bless them.’ Now again good-night, daughter. Get to bed and to sleep as quickly as you can.”

Lulu obeyed, and her head had scarcely more than touched the pillow before her senses were lost in sound sleep, from which she did not awake till just as the sun appeared above the tree-tops.

“Oh, what a lovely morning! everything looking so beautiful within and without!” she exclaimed to herself, glancing around the handsomely furnished room, then out at the beautiful grounds. “Ah, I want a morning stroll with my dear father!” and with the words she sprang from the bed and began a hasty but neat toilet; but first she laid her Bible open on the dressing-table that she might commit a verse or more to memory as she worked.

Then a few moments were spent on her knees giving thanks for God’s protecting care over her and hers during the silent watches of the night, the many, many blessings of her lot in life, and the hope of eternal life through the righteousness and atoning blood of Christ, confessing her sins, asking forgiveness for Jesus’ sake, and help to love him more and serve him better.

Grace still slept soundly, as Lulu discovered on peeping in at the open door communicating with her own room. Polly woke and called for a cracker, according to her custom. Lulu gave her one, told her to be silent and not disturb tired sleepers, then passed quietly out to the hall and to Marian’s door, where she stood listening till satisfied that no movement was going on within that room; then seeing her father passing out of his dressing-room into the hall, she ran to him, was welcomed with a smile and a kiss, slipped her hand into his, and they went down the stairs together.

“Have you had anything to eat?” he asked, adding, “It will be more than an hour yet before we are called to breakfast, and that will make too long a fast from the time you must have left your bed.”

“No, sir, I haven’t,” she replied. “Shall I call for a glass of milk for you and one for myself?”

“Suppose instead we take a basket and go out to the strawberry bed. How would you like that?” he asked.

“Oh, ever so much, papa!” she exclaimed delightedly. “And might we not gather some for breakfast too? Mamma Vi and the rest will enjoy them as well as you and I.”

“I entirely approve of the suggestion,” he returned, and they set off together for the strawberry patch.

It was a large one supplied with an abundance of the finest varieties, the vines now loaded with delicious fruit just in prime condition for eating.

“Oh, how beautiful they are!” cried Lulu. “So many too, and so nicely arranged and trained that they don’t get any sand at all on them; and so large that it won’t take long to fill our basket, papa.”

“No, not many minutes. Gather and eat all you wish and we will fill the basket afterward.”

“Thank you, sir,” she said, and hastened to avail herself of the permission. For some minutes she was too busy to talk, but at length, when the filling of the basket began, she broke the silence with a question: “Papa, did Marian tell you how she escaped from Minersville?”

“Yes,” he replied; “and now you want me to tell you, I suppose?”

“Oh, yes, sir, if you will.”

“I will tell you something about it, but let you get the particulars from Marian herself. My agent, Mr. Short, was a good friend to the poor girl, supplied her with funds and whatever else she needed; took her by night to a station some miles distant on the railroad, bought her a ticket, had her trunk checked, put her on board an eastern train and watched it out of sight.”

“And she travelled all the rest of the way alone, papa?”

“Yes; as far as Union, where I met her with my carriage.”

“I think she was very brave, papa; but anything was better than the fate she would have had if she had stayed where that wicked, cruel father of hers could have done what he pleased with her. Oh, how glad and thankful I am that God gave me such a good, kind father!”

“And I that you are mine,” he returned with a loving look into her beaming eyes. “It speaks ill indeed for Mormonism that it can so harden the heart against those who should be regarded with the tenderest affection. There! we have filled our basket and now we will go back to the house.”

The breakfast-bell rang just as they stepped into the veranda. Violet was there with the three younger children; morning greetings were exchanged, then all repaired to the breakfast-room.

“I think our weary young guest is still sleeping,” Violet said. “I knocked softly at her door and listened for several minutes, but could hear no sound; so thought it best to let her sleep on and give her her breakfast when she wakes of herself.”

“Quite right, my dear,” returned the captain as he lifted baby Ned to his high chair, then seated himself.

He asked a blessing upon their food and the meal began. They were the usual cheerful little family party, chatting pleasantly among themselves while they ate.

As they rose from the table Violet said: “I think I will go to the telephone and have a little chat with mamma while the servants are eating.”

“And may I go with you?” the captain asked with a smile.

“I shall be happy to have you, sir,” she returned with a laughing look up into his face. “The children are welcome to come, too, if they wish.”

At Ion the family were about leaving the breakfast-table when the telephone bell rang. It was answered by Edward. “Hello! who is there? and what’s wanted?”

“It is I. I wish to speak to mamma,” was the reply in Violet’s own sweet tones. “No objections to others hearing, though.”

“Dear me, I hope she isn’t going to say they can’t come to-day!” exclaimed Rosie, while Edward stepped aside and their mother took the place he vacated.

“What is it, Vi?” she asked, and all listened intently for the reply.

“We have a guest, Marian McAlpine—that Minersville young girl you have all heard my husband, Max and Lu speak of.”

“Ah! then bring her with you to-day, if she will come.”

“Thank you, mamma; we will if she is able and willing to accompany us; she was greatly fatigued by her journey and seems to be still sleeping.”

“McAlpine?” exclaimed Mr. Lilburn, standing near. “You and I have some distant relatives of that name, Cousin Elsie. Please ask for the father’s first name.”

“I have heard the captain say his wife called him Willie,” Elsie answered.

“Ah, indeed!” exclaimed Mr. Lilburn, in a tone of some excitement. “I must see the lassie. Please say to Cousin Vi that I will be over there an hour hence. And will you not accompany me, cousin?”

“With pleasure,” she replied, and turning to her father, “Shall we not make up a party, papa?” she asked.

“Yes,” he said. “It is a lovely morning for a drive and we may as well do so, all going who have time and inclination.”

“I wonder if our young guest is awake yet,” Violet said to her husband as they turned away from the telephone. “Shall I send a servant up to see?”

“No, my dear, I think I wouldn’t,” the captain replied. “I told her last night to lie and sleep as late this morning as she would, ring for her breakfast when she was ready to eat it, and it should be carried up to her. Ah! there is her bell now. I will direct that it be taken up at once, and then we will have family worship.”

On coming down nearly an hour later Marian found the family gathered upon the front veranda. The captain rose on her appearance and gallantly handed her to a seat, remarking that she was looking much better and brighter than on her arrival the previous evening.

“Yes, sir,” she said, “and I feel far better. I was very weary with my long journey (what a very big country America is!), but I slept well and am almost rested now.”

Just then a carriage was seen to turn in at the gates opening upon the high-road. Ned greeted its approach with a shout of delight.

“Gan’ma tumin’! gan’ma tumin’. Oh, I so blad, I so blad!”

“Yes, Neddie boy, we are always glad to see dear grandma,” said his father. “Grandpa Dinsmore too, Cousin Ronald, Rosie and Walter. They are all there, I see.”

The next minute the carriage had drawn up at the foot of the steps and the captain was assisting his guests to alight and bidding them heartily welcome.

Cousin Ronald, waiting only to greet Violet, turned to the young stranger guest, and grasping her hand said with emotion: “I need ask no questions, for that bonny, winsome face tells plainer than any words that you are my Cousin Janet’s bairn.”

Marian gazed at him for a moment in dumb astonishment; then a glad surprise lighted up her face.

“A kinsman of my dear mother?” she exclaimed.

“Yes, my bonny lass. Did you never hear her speak of her Cousin Ronald Lilburn?”

“Oh, I have, sir, I have! and you are he?”

“That I am, lassie; and old enough to be your grandsire; so dinna think it too great a liberty I take,” kissing her on cheek and lip. “And my cousin Elsie here, and her children, may claim kindred with you also, lassie,” putting the hand he held into that of Mrs. Travilla.

“Yes, we must be permitted to claim you as our own, dear girl,” Grandma Elsie said in tender tones and with an affectionate caress. Then turning to her children, “Rosie and Walter,” she said, “this is your cousin, too.”

“Then mine also, mamma,” exclaimed Violet.

“Ah, Marian, I am glad to know there is such a tie between us!” taking the young girl’s hand in hers and holding it for a moment in a kindly pressure.

“I also, for if related to my wife you are to me too,” the captain said, laying a hand affectionately upon the young girl’s shoulder.

Then the younger ones greeted her warmly in turn. Mr. Dinsmore shook hands with her in a kind, grandfatherly way, saying that she must no longer feel herself a stranger in a strange land, but that the God of her fathers had guided her to an abiding-place among her own kith and kin.

Marian seemed well-nigh overwhelmed with joy and gratitude by the sudden glad change in her condition, laughing and crying hysterically in turn; but under the kind ministrations of her newly found relatives soon recovered her composure and was able to answer coherently the many questions Cousin Ronald had to ask concerning her parents and brothers.

His manner increased in gentleness and tenderness as he learned of her many and recent bereavements and the cruel treatment received at the hands of her unnatural father.

Mr. Lilburn’s brow darkened as he listened. “Ah, to think o’ my ain bonny cousin throwing hersel’ awa upon sic a beast o’ a mon!” he muttered between his set teeth; then aloud to Marian, “Dinna fash yersel’, lassie; the Lord has blessed your Cousin Ronald wi’ abundance o’ this worl’s gude; sons too, and one married daughter, but no single one now the two that were once the pride and joy o’ his heart having been long since called to the Father’s house on high, and if it so pleases you he will be glad to take you in the place of one of them.”

“How very kind you are, sir!” she exclaimed with starting tears. “I cannot consent to be a burden to any one, but will gladly take help to fit myself for some useful employment by which I can earn my daily bread.”

“And that you shall have, my dear lass,” he said emphatically.

“But we need not settle anything to-day,” their Cousin Elsie remarked, then told Marian of the family gathering to be held at Ion that afternoon, adding a warm invitation to her to make one of the company.

Marian accepted with thanks; then, coloring and hesitating, said she feared she had nothing to wear which would be suitable for such an occasion.

“My dear girl, do not allow yourself to be troubled with any such fears,” Elsie replied in gentle, reassuring accents. “It is only a family gathering, and the dress you are now wearing will be quite suitable.”

“Surely, surely, lassie, it strikes me as far from unbecoming,” Cousin Ronald said, regarding her and her apparel with critical eyes, “and if any in the company think ill o’e dress, let him or her forget it in gazing upon the bonny face above it.”

“I think you need not feel ashamed of it or fear unfavorable criticism, my dear girl,” added Violet.

“No, dress is but a secondary matter in the connection, so far as I know,” said the captain, and Rosie and Lulu added their assurance to the same effect.

“Then I shall go with pleasure and try not to think of the dress at all,” returned Marian with a look of relief.

Walter, ever ready for a story, had been eagerly watching his opportunity and now earnestly requested of Marian a detailed account of her escape from Minersville. She complied and gave the facts in a way that all her hearers found exceedingly interesting.

At the conclusion of her narrative the Ion callers departed, and after dinner the whole Woodburn family, including their guest, followed.

Marian’s eyes were bright with happiness in the discovery that the captain and Lulu, both of whom she had learned to dearly love in the by-gone days of her acquaintance with them in the far West, were in some sort connected with her and disposed to treat her as a near and valued relative; also that through them she had come upon others actually of her mother’s kith and kin and disposed to take her in among them and treat her as one of themselves. Ah, what a sudden and delightful change from the lonely and forlorn condition which had been hers but the day before!

She greatly enjoyed the short drive to Ion, the warm welcome received there by herself as well as the others, the pleasant, kindly greetings of the different members of the various family connections, all of whom, though many of them were not actually even distantly related to her, met her with the greatest cordiality and seemed deeply interested in the story of her past and her prospects for the future.

It was a great pleasure to make acquaintance with the young girls from the Oaks, with Lora Howard also and Evelyn Leland, with all of whom she spent the greater part of the afternoon in pleasant chat, while wandering about the beautiful grounds and boating on the lovely lakelet.

While the young people strolled over the grounds the older ones sat conversing together in the veranda. Much of the talk was of Marian and what could be done to help her to a happy and useful life. It soon became apparent that any one of them was ready to offer her a home; Captain Raymond more than willing to take her into the number of his pupils, and Mr. Lilburn really anxious to bear all the expense of her clothing and education.

“If she will accept me as her teacher the education need cost but little,” remarked Captain Raymond.

“And I,” said Mrs. Elsie Travilla, “must claim the privilege of supplying at least a part of her clothing; for as my dear mother’s relative she seems very near to me.”

“And what is left for me to do?” asked Mr. Lilburn with a comical look of chagrin and dismay.

“Why, sir, you might supply pocket-money,” suggested Zoe.

“Or settle a few thousands upon her so that she need not feel absolutely penniless,” added Edward.

“Ah ha! ah ha! um hm! that’s no so bad an idea, cousin,” returned the old gentleman with a humorous look and smile; “and it is to be hoped our bonny lassie may not be averse to receiving it from ‘a kinsman near, a clansman true;’ though the kin be not so near as one might wish.”

“Yet if you adopt her that need make but little difference,” Edward laughingly returned.

“Quite true, sir, and whether that is done or no will rest wi’ the sweet lassie hersel’,” said the old gentleman, relapsing into his Scottish brogue. “She is one any man might be proud to call his daughter.”

“So we all think,” said Elsie Leland, “and Lester and I would be glad to give her a home at Fairview. She would make a desirable companion for Evelyn, we think.”

“She would do quite as well for Ella at the Roselands; wouldn’t she, Cal?” said Dr. Arthur Conly with a humorous look at his elder brother.

“Not a doubt of it; for ourselves too, for that matter,” laughed Calhoun.

“Or for us at the Oaks,” remarked the younger Mr. Horace Dinsmore; and his sister Mrs. Lacey added, “Or for us at the Laurels.”

“Evidently she is in no danger of finding herself homeless,” remarked the father of the last two with a smile.

“No, indeed! not while her older Cousin Elsie has one or more to offer her,” added the sweet voice of his eldest daughter. “I propose that some of us take her into the city to-morrow morning and buy for her whatever may be needed to supply her with a wardrobe equal to that of any one of our own girls.”

“A very good thought, cousin,” said Mr. Lilburn, “and with your leave I shall make one of that party. And might it not be well to take the lass herself with us and consult her own taste to supplement the good judgment of yourself and any of the other ladies who may care to accompany us?”

“And give her the pleasure of seeing the city too,” said Zoe, “if she is sufficiently rested from her long and wearisome journey to enjoy it.”

After a little more talk it was fully decided that the trip to the city and the shopping should be undertaken on the morrow, and Marian invited to accompany them or not, as might suit her inclination.