Books: Elsie Dinsmore
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Martha Finley >> Elsie Dinsmore
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"Do you," said Rose; "how strange! I had rather give up all other
books than that one. 'Thy testimonies have I taken as a heritage
forever, for they are the rejoicing of my heart,' 'How sweet are
thy words unto my taste! Yea, sweeter than honey to my mouth.'"
"Do you _really_ love it so, Rose?" asked Adelaide, lifting
her eyes to her friend's face with an expression of astonishment;
"do tell me why?"
"For its exceeding great and precious promises Adelaide; for its
holy teachings; for its offers of peace and pardon and eternal
life. I am a sinner, Adelaide, lost, ruined, helpless, hopeless,
and the Bible brings me the glad news of salvation offered as a
free, unmerited gift; it tells me that Jesus died to save sinners
--just such sinners as I. I find that I have a heart deceitful
above all things and desperately wicked, and the blessed Bible
tells me how that heart can be renewed, and where I can obtain
that holiness without which no man shall see the Lord. I find
myself utterly unable to keep God's holy law, and it tells me of
One who has kept it for me. I find that I deserve the wrath and
curse of a justly offended God, and it tells me of Him who was
made a curse for me. I find that all my righteousnesses are as
filthy rags, and it offers me the beautiful, spotless robe of
Christ's perfect righteousness. Yes, it tells me that God can be
just, and the justifier of him who believes in Jesus."
Rose spoke these words with deep emotion, then suddenly clasping
her hands and raising her eyes, she exclaimed, "'Thanks be unto
God for His unspeakable gift!'"
For a moment there was silence. Then Adelaide spoke:
"Rose," said she, "you talk as if you were a great sinner; but I
don't believe it; it is only your humility that makes you think
so. Why, what have you ever done? Had you been a thief, a
murderer, or guilty of any other great crime, I could see the
propriety of your using such language with regard to yourself; but
for a refined, intelligent, amiable young lady, excuse me for
saying it, dear Rose, but such language seems to me simply
absurd."
"Man looketh upon the outward appearance, but the Lord pondereth
the heart," said Rose, gently. "No, dear Adelaide, you are
mistaken; for I can truly say 'mine iniquities have gone over my
head as a cloud, and my transgressions as a thick cloud.' Every
duty has been stained with sin, every motive impure, every thought
unholy. From my earliest existence, God has required the undivided
love of my whole heart, soul, strength, and mind; and so far from
yielding it, I live at enmity with Him, and rebellion against His
government, until within the last two years. For seventeen years
He has showered blessings upon me, giving me life, health,
strength, friends, and all that was necessary for happiness; and
for fifteen of those years I returned Him nothing but ingratitude
and rebellion. For fifteen years I rejected His offers of pardon
and reconciliation, turned my back upon the Saviour of sinners,
and resisted all the strivings of God's Holy Spirit, and will you
say that I am not a great sinner?" Her voice quivered, and her
eyes were full of tears.
"Dear Rose," said Adelaide, putting her arm around her friend and
kissing her cheek affectionately, "don't think of these things;
religion is too gloomy for one so young as you."
"Gloomy, dear Adelaide!" replied Rose, returning the embrace; "I
never knew what true happiness was until I found Jesus. My sins
often make me sad, but religion, never.
"'Oft I walk beneath the cloud,
Dark as midnight's gloomy shroud;
But when fear is at the height,
Jesus comes, and all is light.'"
CHAPTER SECOND
"Thy injuries would teach patience to blaspheme,
Yet still thou art a dove."
--BEAUMONT'S _Double Marriage._
"When forced to part from those we love,
Though sure to meet to-morrow;
We yet a kind of anguish prove
And feel a touch of sorrow.
But oh! what words can paint the fears
When from these friends we sever,
Perhaps to part for months--for years--
Perhaps to part forever."
--ANON.
When Miss Allison had gone, and Elsie found herself once more
quite alone, she rose from her chair, and kneeling down with the
open Bible before her, she poured out her story of sins and
sorrows, in simple, child-like words, into the ears of the dear
Saviour whom she loved so well; confessing that when she had done
well and suffered for it, she had not taken it patiently, and
earnestly pleading that she might be made like unto the meek and
lowly Jesus. Low sobs burst from her burdened heart, and the tears
of penitence fell upon the pages of the holy book. But when she
rose from her knees, her load of sin and sorrow was all gone, and
her heart made light and happy with a sweet sense of peace and
pardon. Once again, as often before, the little Elsie was made to
experience the blessedness of "the man whose transgression is
forgiven, whose sin is covered."
She now set to work diligently at her studies, and ere the party
returned was quite prepared to meet Miss Day, having attended
faithfully to all she had required of her. The lesson was recited
without the smallest mistake, every figure of the examples worked
out correctly, and the page of the copy-book neatly and carefully
written.
Miss Day had been in a very captious mood all day, and seemed
really provoked that Elsie had not given her the smallest excuse
for fault-finding. Handing the book back to her, she said, very
coldly, "I see you can do your duties well enough when you
choose."
Elsie felt keenly the injustice of the remark, and longed to say
that she had tried quite as earnestly in the morning; but she
resolutely crushed down the indignant feeling, and calling to
mind the rash words that had cost her so many repentant tears, she
replied meekly, "I am sorry I did not succeed better this morning,
Miss Day, though I did really try; and I am still more sorry for
the saucy answer I gave you; and I ask your pardon for it."
"You _ought_ to be sorry," replied Miss Day, severely, "and I
hope you are; for it was a very impertinent speech indeed, and
deserving of a much more severe punishment than you received. Now
go, and never let me hear anything of the kind from you again."
Poor little Elsie's eyes filled with tears at these ungracious
words, accompanied by a still more ungracious manner; but she
turned away without a word, and placing her books and slate
carefully in her desk, left the room.
Rose Allison was sitting alone in her room that evening, thinking
of her far-distant home, when hearing a gentle rap at her door,
she rose and opened it to find Elsie standing there with her
little Bible in her hand.
"Come in, darling," she said, stooping to give the little one a
kiss; "I am very glad to see you."
"I may stay with you for half an hour, Miss Allison, if you like,"
said the child, seating herself on the low ottoman pointed out by
Rose, "and then mammy is coming to put me to bed."
"It will be a very pleasant half-hour to both of us, I hope,"
replied Rose, opening her Bible.
They read a chapter together--Rose now and then pausing to make a
few explanations--and then kneeling down, she offered up a prayer
for the teachings of the Spirit, and for God's blessing on
themselves and all their dear ones.
"Dear little Elsie," she said, folding the child in her arms, when
they had risen from their knees, "how I love you already, and how
very glad I am to find that there is one in this house beside
myself who loves Jesus, and loves to study His word, and to call
upon His name."
"Yes, dear Miss Allison; and there is _more_ than one, for
mammy loves Him, too, very dearly," replied the little girl,
earnestly.
"Does she, darling? Then I must love her, too, for I cannot help
loving all who love my Saviour."
Then Rose sat down, and drawing the little girl to a seat on her
knee, they talked sweetly together of the race they were running,
and the prize they hoped to obtain at the end of it; of the battle
they were fighting, and the invisible foes with whom they were
called to struggle--the armor that had been provided, and of Him
who had promised to be the Captain of their salvation, and to
bring them off more than conquerors. They were pilgrims in the
same straight and narrow way, and it was very pleasant thus to
walk a little while together. "Then they that feared the Lord
spake often one to another; and the Lord hearkened and heard it;
and a book of remembrance was written before Him for them that
feared the Lord, and that thought upon His name. And they shall be
mine, saith the Lord of hosts, in that day when I make up my
jewels; and I will spare them, as a man spareth his own son that
serveth him."
"That is mammy coming for me," said Elsie, as a low knock was
heard at the door.
"Come in," said Rose, and the door opened, and a very nice colored
woman of middle age, looking beautifully neat in her snow-white
apron and turban, entered with a low courtesy, asking, "Is my
little missus ready for bed now?"
"Yes," said Elsie, jumping off Rose's lap; "but come here, mammy;
I want to introduce you to Miss Allison."
"How do you do, Aunt Chloe? I am very glad to know you, since
Elsie tells me you are a servant of the same blessed Master whom I
love and try to serve," said Rose, putting her small white hand
cordially into Chloe's dusky one.
"'Deed I hope I is, missus," replied Chloe, pressing it fervently
in both of hers. "I's only a poor old black sinner, but de good
Lord Jesus, He loves me jes de same as if I was white, an' I love
Him an' all His chillen with all my heart."
"Yes, Aunt Chloe," said Rose, "He is our peace, and hath made both
one, and hath broken down the middle wall of partition between us;
so that we are no more strangers and foreigners, but fellow-
citizens with the saints and of the household of God; and are
built upon the foundation of the apostles and prophets, Jesus
Christ himself being the chief corner-stone."
"Yes, missus, dat's it for sure; ole Chloe knows dat's in de
Bible; an' if we be built on dat bressed corner-stone, we's safe
ebery one; I'se heard it many's de time, an' it fills dis ole
heart with joy an' peace in believing," she exclaimed, raising her
tearful eyes and clasping her hands. "But good night, missus; I
must put my chile to bed," she added, taking Elsie's hand.
"Good-night, Aunt Chloe; come in again," said Rose. "And good-
night to you, too, dear little Elsie," folding the little girl
again in her arms.
"Ain't dat a bressed young lady, darlin'!" exclaimed Chloe,
earnestly, as she began the business of preparing her young charge
for bed.
"O mammy, I love her so much! she's so good and kind," replied the
child, "and she loves Jesus, and loves to talk about Him."
"She reminds me of your dear mamma, Miss Elsie, but she's not so
handsome," replied the nurse, with a tear in her eye; "ole Chloe
tinks dere's nebber any lady so beautiful as her dear young missus
was."
Elsie drew out the miniature and kissed it, murmuring, "Dear,
darling mamma," then put it back in her bosom again, for she
always wore it day and night. She was standing in her white night-
dress, the tiny white feet just peeping from under it, while Chloe
brushed back her curls and put on her night-cap.
"Dere now, darlin', you's ready for bed," she exclaimed, giving
the child a hug and a kiss.
"No, mammy, not quite," replied the little girl, and gliding away
to the side of the bed, she knelt down and offered up her evening
prayer. Then, coming back to the toilet table, she opened her
little Bible, saying, "Now, mammy, I will read you a chapter while
you are getting ready for bed."
The room was large and airy, and Aunt Chloe, who was never willing
to leave her nursling, but watched over her night and day with the
most devoted affection, slept in a cot bed in one corner.
"Tank you, my dear young missus, you's berry good," she said,
beginning the preparations for the night by taking off her turban
and replacing it by a thick night-cap.
When the chapter was finished Elsie got into bed, saying, "Now,
mammy, you may put out the light as soon as you please; and be
sure to call me early in the morning, for I have a lesson to learn
before breakfast."
"That I will, darlin'," replied the old woman, spreading the cover
carefully over her. "Good-night, my pet, your ole mammy hopes her
chile will have pleasant dreams."
Rose Allison was an early riser, and as the breakfast hour at
Roselands was eight o'clock, she always had an hour or two for
reading before it was time to join the family circle. She had
asked Elsie to come to her at half-past seven, and punctually at
the hour the little girl's gentle rap was heard at her door.
"Come in," said Rose, and Elsie entered, looking as bright and
fresh and rosy as the morning. She had her little Bible under her
arm, and a bouquet of fresh flowers in her hand. "Good-morning,
dear Miss Allison," she said, dropping a graceful courtesy as she
presented it. "I have come to read, and I have just been out to
gather these for you, because I know you love flowers."
"Thank you, darling, they are very lovely," said Rose, accepting
the gift and bestowing a caress upon the giver. "You are quite
punctual," she added, "and now we can have our half-hour together
before breakfast."
The time was spent profitably and pleasantly, and passed so
quickly that both were surprised when the breakfast bell rang.
Miss Allison spent the whole fall and winter at Roselands; and it
was very seldom during all that time that she and Elsie failed to
have their morning and evening reading and prayer together. Rose
was often made to wonder at the depth of the little girl's piety
and the knowledge of divine things she possessed. But Elsie had
had the best of teaching. Chloe, though entirely uneducated, was a
simple-minded, earnest Christian, and with a heart full of love to
Jesus, had, as we have seen, early endeavored to lead the little
one to Him, and Mrs. Murray--the housekeeper whom Adelaide had
mentioned, and who had assisted Chloe in the care of the child
from the time of her birth until a few months before Rose's
coming, when she had suddenly been summoned home to Scotland--had
proved a very faithful friend. She was an intelligent woman and
devotedly pious, and had carefully instructed this lonely little
one, for whom she felt almost a parent's affection, and her
efforts to bring her to a saving knowledge of Christ had been
signally owned and blessed of God; and in answer to her earnest
prayers, the Holy Spirit had vouchsafed His teachings, without
which all human instruction must ever be in vain. And young as
Elsie was, she had already a very lovely and well-developed
Christian character. Though not a remarkably precocious child in
other respects, she seemed to have very clear and correct views on
almost every subject connected with her duty to God and her
neighbor; was very truthful both in word and deed, very strict in
her observance of the Sabbath--though the rest of the family were
by no means particular in that respect--very diligent in her
studies, respectful to superiors, and kind to inferiors and
equals; and she was gentle, sweet-tempered, patient, and forgiving
to a remarkable degree. Rose became strongly attached to her, and
the little girl fully returned her affection.
Elsie was very sensitive and affectionate, and felt keenly the
want of sympathy and love, for which, at the time of Rose's
coming, she had no one to look to but poor old Chloe, who loved
her with all her heart.
It is true, Adelaide sometimes treated her almost affectionately,
and Lora, who had a very strong sense of justice, occasionally
interfered and took her part when she was very unjustly accused,
but no one seemed really to care for her, and she often felt sad
and lonely. Mr. Dinsmore, though her own grandfather, treated her
with entire neglect, seemed to have not the slightest affection
for her, and usually spoke of her as "old Crayson's grandchild."
Mrs. Dinsmore really disliked her, because she looked upon her as
the child of a stepson for whom she had never felt any affection,
and also as the future rival of her own children; while the
governess and the younger members of the family, following the
example of their elders, treated her with neglect, and occasionally
even with abuse. Miss Day, knowing that she was in no danger of
incurring the displeasure of her superiors by so doing, vented upon her
all the spite she dared not show to her other pupils; and continually
she was made to give up her toys and pleasures to Enna, and even
sometimes to Arthur and Walter. It often cost her a struggle, and
had she possessed less of the ornament of a meek and quiet spirit,
her life had been wretched indeed.
But in spite of all her trials and vexations, little Elsie was the
happiest person in the family; for she had in her heart that peace
which the world can neither give nor take away; that joy which the
Saviour gives to His own, and no man taketh from them. She
constantly carried all her sorrows and troubles to Him, and the
coldness and neglect of others seemed but to drive her nearer to
that Heavenly Friend, until she felt that while possessed of His
love, she could not be unhappy, though treated with scorn and
abuse by all the world.
"The good are better made by ill,
As odors crushed are sweeter still;"
And even so it seemed to be with little Elsie; her trials seemed
to have only the effect of purifying and making more lovely her
naturally amiable character.
Elsie talked much and thought more of her absent and unknown
father, and longed with an intensity of desire for his return
home. It was her dream, by day and by night, that he had come,
that he had taken her to his heart, calling her "his own darling
child, his precious little Elsie;" for such were the loving
epithets she often heard lavished upon Enna, and which she longed
to hear addressed to herself. But from month to month, and year to
year, that longed-for return had been delayed until the little
heart had grown sick with hope deferred, and was often weary with
its almost hopeless waiting. But to return.
"Elsie," said Adelaide, as Miss Allison and the little girl
entered the breakfast-room on the morning after Elsie's
disappointment, "the fair is not over yet, and Miss Allison and I
are going to ride out there this afternoon; so, if you are a good
girl in school, you may go with us."
"Oh! thank you, dear Aunt Adelaide," exclaimed the little girl,
clapping her hands with delight; "how kind you are! and I shall be
so glad."
Miss Day frowned, and looked as if she wanted to reprove her for
her noisy demonstrations of delight, but, standing somewhat in awe
of Adelaide, said nothing.
But Elsie suddenly relapsed into silence, for at that moment Mrs.
Dinsmore entered the room, and it was seldom that she could utter
a word in her presence without being reproved and told that
"children should be seen and not heard," though her own were
allowed to talk as much as they pleased.
Miss Day seemed cross, Mrs. Dinsmore was moody and taciturn,
complaining of headache, and Mr. Dinsmore occupied with the
morning paper; and so the meal passed off in almost unbroken
silence. Elsie was glad when it was over, and hastening to the
school-room, she began her tasks without waiting for the arrival
of the regular hour for study.
She had the room entirely to herself, and had been busily engaged
for half an hour in working out her examples, when the opening of
the door caused her to look up, and, to her dismay, Arthur
entered. He did not, however, as she feared, begin his customary
course of teasing and tormenting, but seated himself at his desk,
leaning his head upon his hand in an attitude of dejection.
Elsie wondered what ailed him, his conduct was so unusual, and she
could not help every now and then sending an inquiring glance
toward him, and at length she asked, "What is the matter, Arthur?"
"Nothing much," said he, gruffly, turning his back to her.
Thus repulsed, she said no more, but gave her undivided attention
to her employment; and so diligent was she, that Miss Day had no
excuse whatever for fault-finding this morning. Her tasks were all
completed within the required time, and she enjoyed her promised
ride with her aunt and Miss Allison, and her visit to the fair,
very much indeed.
It was still early when they returned; and finding that she had
nearly an hour to dispose of before tea-time, Elsie thought she
would finish a drawing which she had left in her desk in the
school-room. While searching for it and her pencil, she heard
Lora's and Arthur's voices on the veranda.
She did not notice what they were saying, until her own name
struck her ear.
"Elsie is the only person," Lora was saying, "who can, and
probably will, help you; for she has plenty of money, and she is
so kind and generous; but, if I were you, I should be ashamed to
ask her, after the way you acted toward her."
"I wish I hadn't teased her so yesterday," replied Arthur,
disconsolately, "but it's such fun, I can't help it sometimes."
"Well, I know I wouldn't ask a favor of anybody I had treated so,"
said Lora, walking away.
Elsie sat still a few moments, working at her drawing and
wondering all the time what it was Arthur wanted, and thinking how
glad she would be of an opportunity of returning him good for
evil. She did not like, though, to seek his confidence, but
presently hearing him heave a deep sigh, she rose and went out on
the veranda.
He was leaning on the railing in an attitude of dejection, his
head bent down and his eyes fixed on the floor. She went up to
him, and laying her hand softly on his shoulder, said, in the
sweet, gentle tones natural to her. "What ails you, Arthur? Can I
do anything for you? I will be very glad if I can."
"No--yes--" he answered hesitatingly; "I wouldn't like to ask you
after--after--"
"Oh! never mind," said Elsie, quickly; "I do not care anything
about that now. I had the ride to-day, and that was better still,
because I went with Aunt Adelaide and Miss Allison. Tell me what
you want."
Thus encouraged, Arthur replied, "I saw a beautiful little ship
yesterday when I was in the city; it was only five dollars, and
I've set my heart on having it, but my pocket money's all gone,
and papa won't give me a cent until next month's allowance is due;
and by that time the ship will be gone, for it's such a beauty
somebody'll be sure to buy it."
"Won't your mamma buy it for you?" asked Elsie.
"No, she says she hasn't the money to spare just now. You know
it's near the end of the month, and they've all spent their
allowances except Louise, and she says she'll not lend her money
to such a spendthrift as I am."
Elsie drew out her purse, and seemed just about to put it into his
hand; but, apparently changing her mind, she hesitated a moment,
and then returning it to her pocket, said, with a half smile, "I
don't know, Arthur; five dollars is a good deal for a little girl
like me to lay out at once. I must think about it a little."
"I don't ask you to _give_ it," he replied scornfully; "I'll
pay it back in two weeks."
"Well, I will see by to-morrow morning," she said, darting away,
while he sent an angry glance after her, muttering the word
"stingy" between his teeth.
Elsie ran down to the kitchen, asking of one and another of the
servants as she passed, "Where's Pompey?" The last time she put
the question to Phoebe, the cook, but was answered by Pompey
himself. "Here am Pomp, Miss Elsie; what does little missy want
wid dis chile?"
"Are you going to the city to-night, Pompey?"
"Yes, Miss Elsie, I'se got some arrants to do for missus an' de
family in ginral, an' I ben gwine start in 'bout ten minutes.
Little missy wants sumpin', eh?"
Elsie motioned to him to come close to her, and then putting her
purse into his hands, she told him in a whisper of Arthur's wish,
and directed him to purchase the coveted toy, and bring it to her,
if possible, without letting any one else know anything about it.
"And keep half a dollar for yourself, Pompey, to pay you for your
trouble," she added in conclusion.
"Tank you, little missy," he replied, with a broad grin of
satisfaction; "dat be berry good pay, and Pomp am de man to do dis
business up for you 'bout right."
The tea-bell rang, and Elsie hastened away to answer the summons.
She looked across the table at Arthur with a pleasant smile on her
countenance, but he averted his eyes with an angry scowl; and with
a slight sigh she turned away her head, and did not look at him
again during the meal.
Pompey executed his commission faithfully; and when Elsie returned
to her own room after her evening hour with Miss Rose, Chloe
pointed out the little ship standing on the mantel.
"Oh! it's a little beauty," cried Elsie, clapping her hands and
dancing up and down with delight; "how Arthur will be pleased!
Now, mammy, can you take it to the school-room, and put it on
Master Arthur's desk, without anybody seeing you?"
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