CHAPTER TWENTY-NINTH.
"O war!--what, what art thou?
At once the proof and scourge of man's fallen state." -- HANNAH MORE.
Richard Allison had gone to Lansdale for his bride a fortnight ago; they were now taking their bridal trip and expected to reach Elmgrove a day or two before the wedding of May and Harry Duncan.

The latter would bring Aunt Wealthy with him, and leave her for a short visit among her friends.
Sophie's mother and sister-in-law, Mrs.Carrington, and Lucy Ross, came earlier, arriving only two days after our party from Europe.
There was great pleasure, yet mingled with profound sadness, in the meeting of these old and dear friends.

Lucy and her mother were in deep mourning, and in Mrs.Carrington's countenance Christian resignation blended with heart-breaking sorrow; grief and anxiety had done the work of a score of years, silvering her hair and ploughing deep furrows in the face that five years ago was still fresh and fair.
Mr.Travilla had taken wife and children for a morning drive, and on their return, Adelaide, meeting them at the door, said to her niece, "They have come, they are in Mrs.Carrington's dressing-room; and she begs that you will go and meet her there.

She has always loved you so dearly, and I know is longing for your sympathy." Elsie, waiting only to lay aside hat and gloves, hastened to grant the request of the gentle lady for whom she cherished almost a daughter's affection.
She found her alone.

They met silently, clasping each other in a long, tearful embrace, Mrs.Carrington's sobs for many minutes the only sound that broke the stillness of the room.
"I have lost all," she said at length, as they released each other and sat down side by side upon a sofa; "all: husband, sons, home----" Sobs choked her utterance, and Lucy coming hastily in at the open door of the adjoining room, dropped on her knees by her mother's side, and taking one thin, pale hand in hers, said tearfully, "Not all, dear mamma; you have me, and Phil, and the children." "Me too, mother dear, and your Harry's children," added Sophie, who had followed her sister, and now knelt with her.
"Yes, yes, dear daughters, I was wrong: I have lost much, but have many blessings still left, your love not the least; and my grandchildren are scarcely less dear than my own.