"Never mind Amanda and Lord Mortimer; they can wait until we come back.

Now roll up your quilt pieces, and we will put them in my bag. Come! are you ready?"

"Yes, Aunt Sukey, soon as I have pulled on my mits."

"Now we must go and take leave of Molly and the children," said Miss Grandiere.

But as she spoke, there entered from the door on the right of the fireplace a pretty, fragile woman of about forty-five years of age, who, with the exception of her fair skin, blue eyes and brown hair, bore not the slightest resemblance to her tall, stately and handsome sister. She was dressed in a brown, linsey gown, white ap.r.o.n, white neck shawl and white cap. She was closely followed by two little girls of ten and twelve years of age, fair and blue-eyed, like their mother, with frocks that seemed to have been cut off the same piece as their mother's gown. These were the two children of the house--Erina and Melina Elk.

"Why, I have just heard from Dan that you are going Down on the Bay," said the newcomer.

"Yes; Dolly Hedge has sent for us; and as I wanted to go so as to see the wedding at All Faith on Tuesday, I think it is rather lucky that she has sent."

"How long are you going to stay?"

"Until after the wedding, certainly; perhaps longer."

"Well, I do feel so ashamed of the Forces for throwing off their own flesh and blood for the sake of a stranger and a foreigner, that I have no patience with them; and I wouldn't go to the wedding, no, not if it was next door!"

"But, Molly, the young lady fell in love with the English officer; and I think it was very n.o.ble of her father to sacrifice his own dearest hopes on the shrine of his daughter's happiness."

"Oh, don't talk to me about shrines and sacrifices! That's all out of the romances you wear your eyes out reading at night. I believe in neighbors and in kinsfolks, not in strangers and foreigners. There!"

"Well, Molly, you have a right to your own opinions, and the Forces have a right to theirs. You must admit that!"

"Yes; and the heathen have a right to theirs, I suppose you think, Sukey."

"No; that is carrying the matter too far. But good-by, Molly. We must go now. We will be back as soon as we can."

The departing ones kissed their relatives, and went out to the block, where Dan stood holding the horse.

Henny followed with a heavy shawl, which she folded and laid upon the saddle.

"Mind, girl; as soon as you have cleaned up the room, get ready and come after us. We may stay longer than we expect Down on the Bay, so you must bring a change of clothes with you. Be sure to start from here in time to get to Oldfield before night. I don't like, the idea of your going through the forest alone after dark," said Miss Grandiere.

"Nebber you fear, Miss Sukey. I be down at Olefiel' by de time yo' dere yo'se'f--fo' sundown, anyhow," said the negro girl, as she helped her mistress to climb into the saddle, and then lifted Rosemary up to a seat behind her.

"Now, Miss Rose'ry, yo' hole on tight. Put yo' arms 'roun' yo' Aunt Sukey's waist, and hole on tight. Don't you slip off! Look'ee here, yo'

n.i.g.g.e.r Dan; yo' walk 'longside ob dis chile, case she fall off. Tell yo'

wot, n.i.g.g.e.r, ef dis chile fall off an' break her arm or anyfing, yo'

better not show yo' face at Olefiel'--nor likewise here, needer! Yo' hears me, doan yo'?"

"Oh, Aunt Henny, I am not going to fall off; nor neither would Dan let me.

Poor Dan! Don't scold him beforehand," pleaded Rosemary.

"High, chile, 'twould be too late to scold arterward. Wot I sez is, do you' scoldin' an' yo' whippin' 'fo' dere's any cause fer it--'taint no good to do it arterward; 'twon't ondo nuffin' wot's done," said Henny; but her wisdom was lost on the party, who had already started on their way, aunt and niece riding double, and Dan walking beside the horse.

Their way lay over snow-covered ground, through bare woods, up and down rolling hills, and over frozen streams.

It was three o'clock in the afternoon when they emerged from the last piece of woods and entered upon a cultivated clearing, in which stood an old-fashioned farmhouse, with a steep roof with gable ends, dormer windows, and wide porches, surrounded by its barn, granaries and negro quarters.

As Miss Grandiere pulled up at the horse block before the door, a lady, tall, stately, handsome, with a fair complexion, blue eyes and brown hair, very like Miss Grandiere herself, and handsomely dressed in a puce-colored silk pelisse, and a beaver bonnet, appeared at the door, and said:

"You haven't time to stop, Sukey. Sally and the children are all well, and are in the storeroom picking over apples. You can see them when we come home this evening; but now we must hurry; so you just get down and set the child in your seat, and let Dan lead the horse, and we will walk through the woods to Miss Sibby's. I don't know what is going on there, but something is."

"I thought it was hot biscuits out of the new flour," said Miss Grandiere.

"Yes, it is that, too," replied Mrs. Hedge, without perceiving the sarcasm; "but there is something else--something that that wild young blade, Roland Bayard, and that young Midshipman Force, have on foot. I know there is!"

"Roland Bayard! Has he come home?"

"So Gad says. I couldn't get much out of that n.i.g.g.e.r, though. He said he was in a hurry, and hadn't time to stop. He said he had to carry that bag of wheat to the mill and get it ground, and carry it back home in time to make bread for supper; so you see I couldn't get much out of him."

By this time the new order of procession was formed, and the sisters walked on together, followed by little Rosemary on the saddle, and Dan leading the horse.

"I should not think," said Miss Grandiere, "that young Midshipman Force would feel very much like skylarking after such a disappointment and mortification as he has had."

"No would you, now? But then he was a mere boy, and she only a child, when they were engaged; and then after three years, you know, both might have changed their minds," suggested practical Mrs. Hedge.

"I don't know," sighed sentimental Miss Grandiere.

"Well, I tell you, of all the scapegrace, devil-may-care, never-do-well, neck-or-nothing boys that ever lived or died in this world, that Roland Bayard is the very worst! I am sorry young Force has anything to do with him."

"I don't think he is evil at heart," pleaded Miss Grandiere.

"'Evil at heart'" repeated Mrs. Hedge, reflectively. "No, perhaps not."

"He is a little wild, to be sure."

"'A little wild!' He is enough to break Miss Sibby's heart!"

"I don't see why. He is no kin to her."

"No; but she loves him as if he were her only son. She liked to have cried her eyes out when he went to sea, you know."

"Yes, I know. And yet it was as good a career as he could enter upon. The merchant service is not so genteel as the navy, to be sure, but, then, it is really more promising, in a lucrative point of view, and a young man of no family need not mind about the gentility."

"Yet that is just what grieved Miss Sibby's heart--that her adopted nephew should be obliged to gratify his pa.s.sion for the sea by entering the merchant service instead of the United States Navy."

"Poor Miss Sibby! It is hard to say whether her pride in her own descent or her love for her adopted nephew is her ruling pa.s.sion," concluded Miss Grandiere, with a smile.

Their walk had now brought them to the borders of a frozen creek, on the other side of which stood a small farmhouse, surrounded by a few outbuildings.

This was "Forest Rest," or "Miss Sibby's," as it was frequently called.

At the open door stood a short, stout old lady, in a homespun brown linsey gown, a white ap.r.o.n, and a white cap.

She had seen the approach of visitors from her window, and had come out to welcome them.