He was a favorite with all the family; his society enjoyed especially by the ladies.

He devoted himself more particularly to sculpture, but also sketched finely from nature, as did both Elsie and Violet; the latter was beginning to show herself a genius in both that and music, Elsie had recently under Leland’s instructions, done some very pretty wood carving and modeling in clay, and this similarity of tastes made them very congenial.

Philip’s stay was happily not lengthened, business calling him back to New York.

Letters came now and then from Mrs. Ross, Gertrude or Kate, telling of their gay life at Saratoga.

The girls seemed to have no lack of gentlemen admirers; among whom was a Mr. Larrabee from St. Louis, who was particularly attentive to Gertrude.

At length it was announced that they were engaged.

It was now the last of August.  The wedding was to take place about the middle of October, and as the intervening six weeks would barely afford time for the preparation of the trousseau, the ladies hurried home to New York.

Then Kate came down to spend a week with the Travillas.

She looked fagged and worn, complained of ennui, was already wearied of the life she had been leading, and had lost all taste for simple pleasures.

Her faded cheek and languid air, presented a strange contrast to the fresh, bright beauty and animation of Elsie and Violet, a contrast that pained the kind, motherly heart of Mrs. Travilla, who would have been glad to make all the world as happy as she and her children were.

Elsie and Vi felt a lively interest in Gertrude’s prospects, and had many questions to ask about her betrothed;—­“Was he young? was he handsome? was he a good man?  But, oh that was of course.”

“No, not of course at all,” Kate answered, almost with impatience.  “She supposed he was not a bad man; but he wasn’t good in their sense of the word—­not in the least religious—­and he was neither young nor handsome.”

A moment of disappointed silence followed this communication, then Elsie said, a little doubtfully, “Well, I suppose Gerty loves him, and is happy in the prospect of becoming his wife?”

“Happy?” returned Kate, with a contemptuous sniff.  “Well, I suppose she ought to be; she is getting what she wanted—­plenty of money and a splendid establishment; but as to loving Mr. Victor Larrabee—­I could about as soon love a—­snake; and so could she.  He always makes me think of one.”

“Oh, Kate! and will she marry him?” both exclaimed in horror.

“She’s promised to and doesn’t seem inclined to draw back,” replied Kate with indifference.  Then bursting into a laugh, “Girls,” she said, “I’ve had an offer too, and mamma would have had me accept it, but it didn’t suit my ideas.  The man himself is well enough, I don’t really dislike him; but such a name!  Hogg! only think of it!  I told mamma that I didn’t want to live in a sty, if it was lined with gold.”