“Who did get married with my sister Elsie, mamma?” asked little Walter.

“Mr. Leland, my son.”

“But I thought he was most dead,” remarked Rosie in surprise.

“He has been very ill,” her mother said, “but is improving fast, though not yet able to sit up.”

Rosie, opening her eyes wide in astonishment, was beginning another question when Harold stopped her.

“Wait, Rosie, don’t you see mamma is going to read the letters?  They will tell us all about it, I presume.”

“I shall read Edward’s first, it gives a very minute account of what they have done since he wrote us last, just after their arrival in Rome,” the mother said.  “He is a good boy to take the trouble to tell us everything in detail; is he not, papa?”

“Yes,” Mr. Dinsmore assented, seating himself by her side and taking Rosie upon one knee, Walter on the other; “and so good a mother richly deserves good, thoughtful sons and daughters, ever ready to do all in their power to promote her happiness, or afford her pleasure.  Does she not, children?”

“Yes, grandpa, indeed she does!” they replied in chorus.

Her sweet soft eyes glistened with happy tears as she sent a loving glance round the little circle; then all becoming perfectly quiet and attentive, she began to read.

Edward’s first item of news was that the marriage had just taken place; the next that Lester’s health was steadily improving.  Then came a description of the rooms they were occupying; both as they were when first seen by Elsie and himself and as they had become under his renovating and improving hands.

After that he drew a vivid picture of Elsie’s appearance in her bridal robes, told who were present at the ceremony, who performed it, how the several actors acquitted themselves, and what refreshments were served after it was over.

He said he thought happiness was working a rapid cure with Lester, and that from all he could see and hear, his success as both painter and sculptor was already assured.

Elsie’s themes were the same, but she had much to say of Edward’s kind thoughtfulness, his energy and helpfulness; “the best and kindest of brothers,” she called him, and as she read the words the mother’s eyes shone with love and pride in her eldest son.

But her voice trembled, and the tears had to be wiped away once and again when she came to that part of the letter in which Elsie told of her feelings as she robed herself for her bridal with none to assist but Dinah; how sad was her heart, dearly as she loved Lester, and how full of longing for home and mother and all the dear ones so far away; then of the comfort she found in the idea that possibly the dear departed father might be near her in spirit.

“Was it wrong, mamma,” she asked, “to think he might perhaps be allowed to be a ministering spirit to me in my loneliness? and to find pleasure in the thought?”