Mr. Dinsmore alighted first, gave his hand to his wife, and leaving young Horace to attend to Rosebud, hastened to meet his father.

The old man tottered forward and fell upon his neck, weeping bitterly.  “My son, my boa, my only one now; I have lost all—­everything—­wife, sons, home; all swept away, nothing left to my old age but you.”

“Yes, that’s it always,” sneered a sharp voice near at hand; “daughters count for nothing; grandchildren are equally valuable.  Sons, houses, and lands are the only possessions worth having.”

“Enna, how can you!” exclaimed Mrs. Howard.

But neither father nor brother seemed to hear, or heed the unkind, unfilial remark.  The old man was sobbing on his son’s shoulder; he soothing him as tenderly as ever he had soothed wife or daughter.

“My home is yours as long as you choose to make it so, my dear father; and Roselands shall be restored, and your old age crowned with the love and reverence of children and children’s children.”

Hastily recovering himself, the old gentleman released his son, gave an affectionate greeting to Rose, and catching sight of young Horace, now a handsome youth of nineteen, embraced him, exclaiming, “Ah, yes, here is another son for me! one of whom I may well be proud.  Rosie, too, grown to a great girl!  Glad to see you, dear.”  But the first carriage had moved on; the second had come up and discharged its living freight, and Mr. Travilla, with Vi in his arms, Elsie leading her eldest daughter and son, had stepped upon the veranda, followed by Dinah with the babe.

“Dear grandpa,” Mrs. Travilla said, in tender, tremulous tones, dropping her children’s hands to put her arms about his neck, as he turned from Rosebud to her, “my poor, dear grandpa, we will all try to comfort you, and make your old age bright and happy.  See, here are your great-grandchildren ready to rise up and call you blessed.”

“God bless you, child!” he said, in quivering tones, embracing her with more affection than ever before.  “And this,” laying his hand on wee Elsie’s head, “is yourself as you were at the same age.”

“I’m very sorry for you, dear old grandpa; mamma has told me all about it,” the little girl softly whispered, putting her small arms about his neck as he stooped to give her a kiss.

“Me too,” Eddie put in, offering his hand and lips.

“That’s right; good boy; good children.  How are you, Travilla?  You’ve come back to find ruin and desolation where you left beauty and prosperity;” and the aged voice shook with emotion.

Mr. Travilla had a kindly, hearty hand-shake, and gentle sympathizing words for him, then presented Vi and Baby Harold.

Meanwhile the greetings were being exchanged by the others.  Lora met her brother, and both Rose and Elsie, with the warm affection of earlier days, mingled with grief for the losses and sorrows that had befallen since they parted.