As they were sitting at dinner the next day, Mellen inquired about Fuller.

"I have quite forgotten to ask you about Tom," he said; "he was in France when you last wrote to me."

"He has not come yet," Elizabeth replied; "the house in which he was employed, concluded to keep him at Bordeaux for a time; in his last letter he wrote that he might be gone another year."

"Poor old Tom," Elsie said, laughingly.

Elizabeth's brows contracted a little; she had never been able entirely to forget the suffering this girl had caused the young man. Whenever she heard her mention his name in that trifling way, it jarred upon her feelings and irritated her greatly.

"Bessie doesn't like any one to laugh at Tom," said Mellen, noticing the expression of her face.

"I confess I do not," she replied; "he is such a noble fellow at the bottom, with an honest, kindly heart, and it seems to me that no one really acquainted with Tom can help respecting him, in spite of his eccentricities."

"But you need not be so heroic, Bessie," returned Elsie; "Tom always allowed me to laugh at him as much as I pleased; you know I don't mean to be ill-natured."

"No one would ever suspect you of that, Birdie," added Mellen, with a fond glance.

Elizabeth said nothing more, and the conversation "We shall have the house crowded with visitors, I suppose," Elsie said; "Mary Harrington told me she should only give us one day for family affection—"

"I hope she won't come to stay any time just yet," said Elizabeth.

"I hope so, too," added Mellen; "I should like a little enjoyment of my home, if possible, for a week or two at least."

"But people will come," said Elsie; "you must expect it. They look for all sorts of invitations, and you must give them or mortally offend everybody."

Perhaps the idea of the gayety that would ensue was not unpleasant to Elsie, in spite of her joy at Mellen's return; it was quite natural at her age, and to her character, which drooped in solitude like a flower deprived of the sun.

"Oh," said Mellen, "we will give them as many dinners and parties as they like, provided they won't domicile themselves with us, Elizabeth."

"Yes; I don't mind that so much."

"Shall you take a house in town, Grant?" asked Elsie.

"Do you particularly wish it?"

"Oh, it would be pleasant, of course."

"Just as you and Elizabeth choose," he said.

"For my part I would rather stay here," exclaimed Elizabeth.

"And so would I," said Mellen.

Elsie looked a little disappointed, but she concealed the feeling with her usual quickness.

"I have not told you what Doctor Peters said," she continued.

"What?" her brother asked, anxious at once.

"He thinks the sea air too strong for me in the winter; but, I dare say, it is only his fancy; I would not have either you or Elizabeth disturbed on my account."

"My dear child," cried Mellen, "that settles the matter at once; we will certainly go away from here before the cold weather comes; any where you like; Bessie will gladly give up Piney Cove, I'm sure."

"Certainly," answered the wife, quietly.

Elsie looked triumphant; she was always elated at having her own way, whether the thing was of importance or not.

"We need not think about it now," she said, demurely; "it will be warm and pleasant for several weeks yet."

"But you must be careful," returned Mellen, "dear child; I cannot reach home safely only to see your health give way."

"Oh, nonsense, Grant, don't begin to fidget! I am ever so well; make him believe it, Bessie."

"I think so," Bessie replied; "you are stronger than you look."

"Elsie requires great care," said Mellen, decidedly.

Elsie did not look displeased; she liked being considered weak and delicate; it made her more petted and at liberty to indulge her numberless caprices in the most interesting manner.

The family had that evening entirely to themselves, and it passed off very pleasantly. Elizabeth and Elsie joined in the old songs Mellen loved, and they all talked and laughed gaily, forgetful of the clouds that lowered above that house.

The next morning when the family met in the breakfast-room the post had arrived, and Dolf presented Elsie and Elizabeth with several letters; only the journals were left for Mellen, and he said, laughingly:

"The division is not just—Bessie having two letters; you might give me one."

"I'm too selfish," she answered.

"Mine is from Mary Harrington," observed Elsie. "Bess, you shall not read yours till you have given us our coffee. I'll just see what the widow says."

Elizabeth poured out the coffee while Elsie opened her note.

"She is coming to-day," she exclaimed; "I told you so. She sends all sorts of messages to you, Grant; calls you a god-like, wonderful creature, and is dying to see you."

"Oh, of course," said Mellen.

"She asks after Mr. Rhodes, Bessie—poor old fellow—she has quite turned his head."

"What is that?" asked Mellen.

So Elsie explained how the widow delighted in worrying Miss Jemima, had made desperate love to the stout man on every occasion; and in laughing at her quaint speeches Elizabeth quite forgot her own epistles.

"Why, where are your letters?" asked Elsie.

"I forgot them," returned Elizabeth, drawing them from under her plate, and adding as she glanced at the superscription of the upper one, "it is only from the dressmaker."

Elsie snatched the other, and cried out:

"Why, this is from Tom Fuller; oh, see what it says."

"From Tom? oh, I am so glad; I have been expecting a letter for a week past."

Elizabeth took the letter, and her face lighted up joyously as she broke the seal and began to read.

"Well," said Elsie, impatiently, "what does he say? read it out."

Elizabeth uttered an exclamation of delight.

"Oh, you provoking creature," cried Elsie, "do tell us what it is?"

"Tom must have found a diamond mine," said Mellen.

"He has," returned Elizabeth.

"Bless me," said Elsie, "will he go about covered with diamonds?"

"His old uncle has left him a fortune," explained Elizabeth.

Elsie fairly screamed, and clapped her little hands with graceful fury.

"Who would have thought it! Only fancy Tom Fuller rich! Why he'll be robbed every day of his life."

"How much is it?" asked Mellen. "I am very glad. Tom is a good fellow and deserves it."

He had entirely got over any suspicion that Elizabeth might ever have cared for her cousin, and was prepared to rejoice in Tom's good fortune.

"How much—how much?" broke in Elsie.

"Thirty thousand a year," replied Elizabeth; "Tom is in a state of bewilderment that makes his letter sadly incoherent; he never expected a penny; his uncle changed his will at the last moment."

"But wasn't he your uncle, too?" asked Elsie.

"No; he was aunt Fuller's brother."

"Oh, do let me see the letter," said Elsie.

Elizabeth gave it to her, but between excitement and his usual odd penmanship Tom's epistle was quite a puzzle to unpractised eyes, and Elsie went into shrieks over it.

"He promised to bring me a bracelet," said she, "diamonds it shall be now. If he brings anything less I'll send him straight back."

"But when is he coming?" Mellen asked.

"I can't make out," said Elsie; "here is something at the end about I shall burn—no return—at the—the—can that be Millennium?"

"Scarcely, I should think," said Mellen, laughingly.

"Try and make it out, Bess," said Elsie, giving her the letter.

Elizabeth took it, examined the lines to which she pointed, and after a moment's study read it correctly.

"I shall return by the Hammonia."

"Why that's due now," said Elsie.

Elizabeth glanced at the date.

"The letter has been delayed," she said; "he may be here already."

"Oh, it will be beautiful to see him," said Elsie; "why, he will give all he is worth to the person that asks first. Won't it be fun!"

"You shall not tease him, Elsie, as you formerly did," said Elizabeth; "I will not have it."

"But I will," said Elsie. "Thirty thousand a year! Good gracious, it will seem as if he had fallen from the moon. Of course I'll tease him half to death."