Our friends from Naples had arrived the night before. The Dinsmores were
domiciled at the paternal mansion, the Travillas with Edward and Adelaide.
The sun was not yet an hour high as Elsie stood at the open window of her
dressing-room, looking out over the beautiful grounds to the brook beyond,
on whose grassy banks, years ago, she and Harold and Sophie had spent so
many happy hours. How vividly those scenes of her childhood rose up before
her!
"Dear Harold!" she murmured, with a slight sigh, "how kind he always was
to me."
She could not think of him without pain, remembering their last interview
and his present suffering. She had not seen him yet, but had learned from
others that those months at Andersonville had injured his health so
seriously that it was not likely ever to be restored.
"What happy children we were in those days," her thoughts ran on; "and I
am even happier now, my treasures have so increased with the rolling
years; but they! what bitter trials they are enduring; though not less
deserving of prosperity than I, who am but a miserable sinner. But it is
whom the Lord loveth He chasteneth."
At that moment the sound of little hurrying feet, entering the room, and
glad young voices crying, "Good-morning, dear mamma!" broke in upon the
current of her thoughts.
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