Books: Elsie Dinsmore
M >>
Martha Finley >> Elsie Dinsmore
Pages:
1 |
2 |
3 |
4 |
5 |
6 |
7 |
8 |
9 |
10 |
11 |
12 |
13 |
14 |
15 |
16 |
17 | 18
"Not always, chile," Chloe said, wiping away her tears, "but jes
dis here mornin'--Christmas mornin', when she was always so bright
and merry. It seems only yesterday she went dancin' about jes like
you."
"Yes, mammy dear, but she is with the angels now--my sweet, pretty
mamma!" Elsie whispered softly, with another tender, loving look
at the picture ere she returned it to its accustomed resting-place
in her bosom.
"And now I must go to papa," she said more cheerfully, "for it is
almost breakfast time."
"Is my darling satisfied _now?_" he asked, as she ran into
his arms and was folded in a close embrace.
"Yes, papa, indeed I am; thank you a thousand times; it is all I
wanted."
"And you have given me the most acceptable present you could have
found. It is a most excellent likeness, and I am delighted with
it."
"I am so glad, papa, but it was Aunt Adelaide who thought of it."
"Ah! that was very kind of her. But how does my little girl feel
this morning, after all her dissipation?"
"Oh! very well, thank you, papa."
"You will not want to say any lesson to-day, I suppose?"
"Oh! yes, if you please, papa, and it does not give you too much
trouble," she said. "It is the very pleasantest hour in the day,
except--"
"Well, except what? Ah, yes, I understand. Well, my pet, it shall
be as you wish; but come to me directly after breakfast, as I am
going out early."
Elsie had had her hour with her father, but, though he had left
her and gone out, she still lingered in his dressing-room, looking
over the next day's lesson. At length, however, she closed the
book and left the room, intending to seek her young guests, who
were in the lower part of the house.
Miss Stevens' door was open as she passed, and that lady called to
her, "Elsie, dear, you sweet little creature, come here, and see
what I have for you."
Elsie obeyed, though rather reluctantly, and Miss Stevens bidding
her sit down, went to a drawer, and took out a large paper of
mixed candy, all of the best and most expensive kinds, which she
put into the little girl's hands with one of her sweetest smiles.
It was a strong temptation to a child who had a great fondness for
such things, but Elsie had prayed from her heart that morning for
strength to resist temptation, and it was given her.
"Thank you, ma'am, you are very kind," she said gratefully, "but I
cannot take it, because papa does not approve of my eating such
things. He gave me a little this morning, but said I must not have
any more for a long time."
"Now, that is quite too bad," exclaimed Miss Stevens, "but at
least take one or two, child; that much couldn't possibly hurt
you, and your papa need never know."
Elsie gave her a look of grieved surprise.
"Oh! could you think I would do that?" she said. "But _God_
would know, Miss Stevens; and I should know it myself, and how
could I ever look my papa in the face again after deceiving him
so?"
"Really, my dear, you are making a very serious matter of a mere
trifle," laughed the lady; "why, I have deceived my father more
than fifty times, and never thought it any harm. But here is
something I am sure you can take, and indeed you must, for I
bought both it and the candy expressly for you."
She replaced the candy in the drawer as she spoke, and took from
another a splendidly-bound book which she laid in Elsie's lap,
saying, with a triumphant air, "There, my dear, what do you think
of that? is it not handsome?"
Elsie's eyes sparkled; books were her greatest treasures; but
feeling an instinctive repugnance to taking a gift from one whom
she could neither respect nor love, she made an effort to decline
it, though at the same time thanking the lady warmly for her kind
intentions.
But Miss Stevens would hear of no refusal, and fairly forced it
upon her acceptance, declaring that, as she had bought it
expressly for her, she should feel extremely hurt if she did not
take it.
"Then I will, Miss Stevens," said the little girl, "and I am sure
you are very kind. I love books and pictures, too, and these are
lovely engravings," she added turning over the leaves with
undisguised pleasure.
"Yes, and the stories are right pretty, too," remarked Miss
Stevens.
"Yes, ma'am, they look as if they were, and I should like dearly
to read them."
"Well, dear, just sit down and read; there's nothing to hinder.
I'm sure your little friends can do without you for an hour or
two. Or, if you prefer it, take the book and enjoy it with them;
it is your own, you know, to use as you like."
"Thank you, ma'am; but, though I can look at the pictures, I must
not read the stories until I have asked papa, because he does not
allow me to read anything now without first showing it to him."
"Dear me! how very strict he is!" exclaimed Miss Stevens.
"I wonder," she thought to herself, "if he would expect to
domineer over his wife in that style?"
Elsie was slowly turning over the leaves of the book, enjoying the
pictures very much, studying them intently, but resolutely
refraining from even glancing over the printed pages. But at
length she closed it, and, looking out of the window, said, with a
slight sigh, "Oh! I wish papa would come; but I'm afraid he won't
for a long while, and I do so want to read these stories."
"Suppose you let me read one to you," suggested Miss Stevens;
"that would not be _your_ reading it, you know."
Elsie looked shocked at the proposal. "Oh! no, ma'am, thank you, I
know you mean to be kind; but I could not do it; it would be so
very wrong; quite the same, I am sure, as if I read it with my own
eyes," she answered hurriedly; and then, fearing to be tempted
further, she excused herself and went in search of her young
companions.
She found them in the drawing-room.
"Wasn't it too provoking, Elsie, that those people didn't send
home my bracelet last night?" exclaimed Caroline Howard. "I have
just been telling Lucy about it. I think that it was such a shame
for them to disappoint me, for I wanted to have it on the tree."
"I am sorry you were disappointed, Carry, but perhaps it will come
to-day," Elsie answered in a sympathizing tone. And then she
showed the new book, which she still held in her hand.
They spent some time in examining it, talking about and admiring
the pictures, and then went out for a walk.
"Has papa come in yet, mammy?" was Elsie's first question on
returning.
"Yes, darlin', I tink he's in the drawin'-room dis berry minute,"
Chloe answered, as she took off the little girl's hat, and
carefully smoothed her hair.
"There, there! mammy, won't that do now? I'm in a little bit of a
hurry," Elsie said with a merry little laugh, as she slipped
playfully from under her nurse's hand, and ran down-stairs.
But she was doomed to disappointment for the present, for her papa
was seated on the sofa, beside Miss Stevens, talking to her; and
so she must wait a little longer. At last, however, he rose, went
to the other side of the room, and stood a moment looking out of
the window.
Then Elsie hastened to take her book from a table, where she had
laid it, and going up to him, said, "Papa!"
He turned round instantly, asking in a pleasant tone, "Well,
daughter, what is it?"
She put the book into his hand, saying eagerly, "It is a Christmas
gift from Miss Stevens, papa; will you let me read it?"
He did not answer immediately, but turned over the leaves,
glancing rapidly over page after page, but not too rapidly to be
able to form a pretty correct idea of the contents.
"No, daughter," he said, handing it back to her, "you must content
yourself with looking at the pictures; they are by far the best
part; the stories are very unsuitable for a little girl of your
age, and would, indeed, be unprofitable reading for any one."
She looked a little disappointed.
"I am glad I can _trust_ my little daughter, and feel certain
that she will not disobey me," he said, smiling kindly on her, and
patting her cheek.
She answered him with a bright, happy look, full of confiding
affection, laid the book await without a murmur, and left the
room--her father's eyes following her with a fond, loving glance.
Miss Stevens, who had watched them both closely during this little
scene, bit her lips with vexation at the result of her manoeuvre.
She had come to Roselands with the fixed determination to lay
siege to Mr. Horace Dinsmore's heart, and flattering and petting
his little daughter was one of her modes of attack; but his
decided disapproval of her present, she perceived, did not augur
well for the success of her schemes. She was by no means in
despair, however, for she had great confidence in the power of her
own personal attractions, being really tolerably pretty, and
considering herself a great beauty, as well as very highly
accomplished.
As Elsie ran out into the hall, she found herself suddenly caught
in Mr. Travilla's arms.
"'A merry Christmas and a happy New Year!' little Elsie," he said,
kissing her on both cheeks. "Now I have caught you figuratively
and literally, my little lady, so what are you going to give me,
eh?"
"Indeed, sir, I think you've helped yourself to the only thing I
have to give at present," she answered with a merry silvery laugh.
"Nay, _give_ me one, little lady," said he, "one such hug and
kiss as I dare say your father gets half-a-dozen times in a day."
She gave it very heartily.
"Ah! I wish you were ten years older," he said as he set her down.
"If I had been, you wouldn't have got the kiss," she replied,
smiling archly.
"Now, it's my turn," he said, taking something from his pocket.
"I expected you'd catch _me_, and so thought it best to come
prepared."
He took her hand, as he spoke, and placed a beautiful little gold
thimble on her finger. "There, that's to encourage you in
industry."
"Thank you, sir; oh! it's a little beauty! I must run and show it
to papa. But I must not forget my politeness," she added, hastily
throwing open the drawing-room door. "Come in, Mr. Travilla."
She waited quietly until the usual greetings were exchanged, then
went up to her father and showed her new gift.
He quite entered into her pleasure, and remarked, with a glance at
Miss Stevens, "that her friends were very kind."
The lady's hopes rose. He was then pleased with her attention to
his child, even though he did not altogether approve her choice of
a gift.
There was a large party to dinner that day, and the children came
down to the dessert. Miss Stevens, who had contrived to be seated
next to Mr. Dinsmore, made an effort, on the entrance of the
juveniles, to have Elsie placed on her other side; but Mr.
Travilla was too quick for her, and had his young favorite on his
knee before she could gain her attention.
The lady was disappointed, and Elsie herself only half satisfied;
but the two gentlemen, who thoroughly understood Miss Stevens and
saw through all her manoeuvres, exchanged glances of amusement and
satisfaction.
After dinner Mr. Travilla invited Elsie, Carry, Lucy, and Mary, to
take a ride in his carriage, which invitation was joyfully
accepted by all--Mr. Dinsmore giving a ready consent to Elsie's
request to be permitted to go.
They had a very merry time, for Mr. Travilla quite laid himself
out for their entertainment, and no one knew better than he how to
amuse ladies of their age.
It was nearly dark when they returned, and Elsie went at once to
her room to be dressed for the evening. But she found it
unoccupied--Aunt Chloe, as it afterward appeared, having gone down
to the quarter to carry some of the little girl's gifts to one or
two who were too old and feeble to come up to the house to receive
them.
Elsie rang the bell, waited a little, and then, feeling impatient
to be dressed, ran down to the kitchen to see what had become of
her nurse.
A very animated discussion was going on there, just at that
moment, between the cook and two or three of her sable companions,
and the first words that reached the child's ears, as she stood on
the threshold, were, "I tell you, you ole darkie, you dunno
nuffin' 'bout it! Massa Horace gwine marry _dat_ bit ob paint
an' finery! no such ting! Massa's got more sense."
The words were spoken in a most scornful tone, and Elsie, into
whose childish mind the possibility of her father's marrying again
had never entered, stood spellbound with astonishment.
But the conversation went on, the speakers quite unconscious of
her vicinity.
It was Pompey's voice that replied.
"Ef Marse Horace don't like her, what for they been gwine ridin'
ebery afternoon? will you tell me dat, darkies? an' don't dis
niggah see him sit beside her mornin', noon, an' night, laughin'
an' talkin' at de table an' in de parlor? an' don't she keep a
kissin' little Miss Elsie, an' callin' her pretty critter, sweet
critter, an'de like?"
"_She_ ma to our sweet little Miss Elsie! Bah! I tell you,
Pomp, Marse Horace got more sense," returned the cook, indignantly.
"Aunt Chloe don't b'lieve no such stuff," put in another voice;
"she says Marse Horace _couldn't_ put such trash in her sweet
young mistis's place."
"Aunt Chloe's a berry fine woman, no doubt," observed Pomp
disdainfully, "but I reckon Marse Horace ain't gwine to infide his
matermonical intentions to her; and I consider it quite
consequential on Marster's being young and handsome that he will
take another wife."
The next speaker said something about his having lived a good
while without, and though Miss Stevens _was_ setting her cap,
maybe he wouldn't be caught. But Elsie only gathered the sense of
it, hardly heard the words, and, bounding away like a frightened
deer to her own room, her little heart beating wildly with a
confused sense of suffering, she threw herself on the bed. She
shed no tears, but there was, oh! such a weight on her heart, such
a terrible though vague sense of the instability of all earthly
happiness.
There Chloe found her, and wondered much what ailed her darling,
what made her so silent, and yet so restless, and caused such a
deep flush on her cheek. She feared she was feverish, her little
hand was so hot and dry; but Elsie insisted that she was quite
well, and so Chloe tried to think it was only fatigue.
She would fain have persuaded the little girl to lie still upon
her bed and rest, and let her tea be brought to her there; but
Elsie answered that she would much rather be dressed, and join her
young companions in the nursery. They, too, wondered what ailed
her, she was so very quiet and ate almost nothing at all. They
asked if she was sick. She only shook her head. "Was she tired,
then?" "Yes, she believed she was," and she leaned her head
wearily on her hand.
But, indeed, most of the party seemed dull; they had gone through
such a round of pleasure and excitement, for the last two or three
days, that now a reaction was beginning, and they wanted rest,
especially the very little ones, who all retired quite early, when
Elsie and her mates joined their parents in the drawing-room.
Elsie looked eagerly around for her father, the moment she entered
the room. He was beside Miss Stevens, who was at the piano,
performing a very difficult piece of music. He was leaning over
her, turning the leaves, and apparently listening with a great
deal of pleasure, for she was really a fine musician.
Elsie felt sick at heart at the sight--although a few hours before
it would have given her no concern--and found it very difficult to
listen to and answer the remarks Mrs. Carrington was making to her
about her Christmas presents, and the nice ride they had had that
afternoon.
Mr. Travilla was watching her; he had noticed, as soon as she came
in, the sad and troubled look which had come over her face, and,
following the glance of her eyes, he guessed at the cause.
He knew there was no danger of the trial that she feared, and
would have been glad to tell her so; but he felt that it was too
delicate a subject for him to venture on; it might seem too much
like meddling in Mr. Dinsmore's affairs. But he did the next best
thing--got the four little girls into a corner, and tried to
entertain them with stories and charades.
Elsie seemed interested for a time, but every now and then her
eyes would wander to the other side of the room, where her father
still stood listening to Miss Stevens' music.
At length Mr. Travilla was called away to give his opinion about
some tableaux the young ladies were arranging; and Elsie, knowing
it was her usual time for retiring, and not caring to avail
herself of her father's permission to stay up until nine o'clock,
stole quietly away to her room unobserved by any one, and feeling
as if Miss Stevens had already robbed her of her father.
She wiped away a few quiet tears, as she went, and was very silent
and sad, while her mammy was preparing her for bed. She hardly
knew how to do without her good-night kiss, but feeling as she
did, it had seemed quite impossible to ask for it while Miss
Stevens was so near him.
When she knelt down to pray, she became painfully conscious that a
feeling of positive dislike to that lady had been creeping into
her heart, and she asked earnestly to be enabled to put it away.
But she prayed, also, that she might be spared the trial that she
feared, if God's will were so; and she thought surely it was
because she had found out that Miss Stevens was not good, not
truthful, or sincere.
"Perhaps dear papa will come to say good-night before I am
asleep," she murmured to herself as, calmed and soothed by thus
casting her burden on the Lord, she laid her head upon her pillow.
He, however, had become interested in the subject of the tableaux,
and did not miss his little girl until the sound of the clock
striking ten reminded him of her, and he looked around expecting
to see her still in the room; but, not seeing her, he asked Lucy
Carrington where she was.
"Oh!" said Lucy, "she's been gone these two hours, I should think!
I guess she must have gone to bed."
"Strange that she did not come to bid me goodnight," he exclaimed
in a low tone, more as if thinking aloud than speaking to Lucy.
He hastily left the room.
Mr. Travilla followed.
"Dinsmore," said he.
Mr. Dinsmore stopped, and Travilla, drawing him to one side, said
in an undertone, "I think my little friend is in trouble to-
night."
"Ah!" he exclaimed, with a startled look, "what can it be? I did
not hear of any accident--she has not been hurt? is not sick? tell
me, Travilla, quickly, if anything ails my child."
"Nothing, nothing, Dinsmore, only you know servants will talk, and
children have ears, and eyes, too, sometimes, and I saw her
watching you to-night with a very sad expression."
"Nonsense!" exclaimed Mr. Dinsmore, growing very red and looking
extremely vexed; "I wouldn't have had such thoughts put into the
child's head for any money. Are you sure of it, Travilla?"
"I am sure she was watching you very closely tonight, and looking
very miserable."
"Poor darling!" murmured the father. "Thank you, Travilla,"
shaking his friend heartily by the hand. "Good-night; I shall not
be down again if you will be so good as to excuse me to the
others."
And he went up the stairs almost at a bound, and the next moment
was standing beside his sleeping child, looking anxiously down at
the little flushed cheeks and tear-swollen eyes, for, disappointed
that he did not come to bid her good-night, she had cried herself
to sleep.
"Poor darling!" he murmured again, as he stooped over her and
kissed away a tear that still trembled on her eyelash.
He longed to tell her that all her fears were groundless, that
none other could ever fill her place in his heart, but he did not
like to wake her, and so, pressing another light kiss on her
cheek, he left her to dream on unconscious of his visit.
Pages:
1 |
2 |
3 |
4 |
5 |
6 |
7 |
8 |
9 |
10 |
11 |
12 |
13 |
14 |
15 |
16 |
17 | 18