family.

"About as usual, Mrs. Travilla," was the reply.

"I am glad to hear it. I feared you were ill. You are looking weary; and
no wonder after your long walk. You must let us take you home. There is
plenty of room in the carriage, as the gentlemen came on horseback; and
it will be a real pleasure to me to have your company."

The sincere, earnest, kindly tone and manner quite disarmed the pride
of the fallen gentlewoman, and a momentary glow of grateful pleasure
lighted up her sad face.

"But it will take you fully a mile out of your way," she said,
hesitating to accept the proffered kindness.

"Ah, that is no objection; it is so lovely a day for a drive," said
Elsie, leading the way to the carriage.

"This seems like a return of the good old times before the war!" sighed
Mrs. Foster leaning back upon the softly cushioned seat, as they bowled
rapidly along. "Ah Mrs. Travilla, if we could but have been content to
let well enough alone! I have grown weary, inexpressibly weary of all
this hate, bitterness and contention; and the poverty--Ah well, I will
not complain!" and she closed her lips resolutely.

"It was a sad mistake," Elsie answered; echoing the sigh, "and it will
take many years to recover from it."

"Yes, I shall not live to see it."

"Nor I, perhaps; not here, but yonder in the better land," Elsie
answered with a smile of hope and gladness.

Mrs. Foster nodded assent; her heart too full for utterance, nor did she
speak again till the carriage drew up before her own door.

Then repeating her thanks, "You have not been here for a long time, Mrs.
Travilla," she said, "I know I have not returned your calls, but--" she
paused seemingly again overcome with emotion.

"Ah, that shall not keep me away, if you wish me to come," returned
Elsie.

"We would be very glad; hardly any one else so welcome."

"I fear I have neglected you, but shall try to come soon. And shall be
pleased at any time to see you at Ion," Elsie answered as the carriage
drove on.

A day or two afterward she fulfilled her promise, and was admitted by
Annie, the eldest daughter.

She, too, looked pale and careworn, and had evidently been weeping.

"O, Mrs. Travilla!" she exclaimed, and burst into a fresh flood of
tears.

Elsie, her own eyes filling with sympathetic drops, put her arm about
her, whispering, "My poor dear child! what can I do to comfort you?"

"Nothing! nothing!" sobbed the girl, resting her head for a momen