Books: Elsie Dinsmore
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Martha Finley >> Elsie Dinsmore
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"Oh!" she murmured half aloud as she covered her face with her
hands, and the tears trickled through her fingers, "how soon I
have forgotten the lesson papa taught me this morning, and my
promise to trust him without knowing his reasons. I don't deserve
that he should love me or be kind and indulgent, when I am so
rebellious."
"What's de matter, darlin'?" asked Chloe's voice in pitiful tones,
as she took her nursling in her arms and laid her little head
against her bosom, passing her hand caressingly over the soft
bright curls; "your ole mammy can't bear to see her pet cryin'
like dat."
"O mammy, mammy! I've been such a wicked girl to-day! Oh! I'm
afraid I shall never be good, never be like Jesus. I'm afraid He
is angry with me, for I have disobeyed Him to-day," sobbed the
child.
"Darlin'," said Chloe, earnestly, "didn't you read to your ole
mammy dis very morning dese bressed words: 'If any man sin, we
have an advocate with the Father, Jesus Christ the righteous,' an'
de other: 'If we confess our sins, He is faithful and just to
forgive us our sins.' Go to de dear, bressed Lord Jesus, darlin',
an' ax Him to forgive you, an' I _knows_ He will."
"Yes, He will," replied the little girl, raising her head and
dashing away her tears, "He will forgive my sins, and take away my
wicked heart, and give me right thoughts and feelings. How glad I
am you remembered those sweet texts, you dear old mammy," she
added, twining her arms lovingly around her nurse's neck. And then
she delivered her papa's message, and Chloe began at once to
prepare her for bed.
Elsie's tears had ceased to flow, but they were still trembling in
her eyes, and the little face wore a very sad and troubled
expression as she stood patiently passive in her nurse's hands.
Chloe had soon finished her labors, and then the little girl
opened her Bible, and, as usual, read a few verses aloud, though
her voice trembled, and once or twice a tear fell on the page;
then closing the book she stole away to the side of the bed and
knelt down.
She was a good while on her knees, and several times, as the sound
of a low sob fell upon Chloe's ear, she sighed and murmured to
herself: "Poor, darlin'! dear, bressed lamb, your ole mammy don't
like to hear dat."
Then as the child rose from her kneeling posture she went to her,
and taking her in her arms, folded her in a fond embrace, calling
her by the most tender and endearing epithets, and telling her
that her old mammy loved her better than life--better than
anything in the wide world.
Elsie flung her arms around her nurse's neck, and laid her head
upon her bosom, saying, "Yes, my dear old mammy, I know you love
me, and I love you, too. But put me in bed now, or papa will be
displeased."
"What makes you so onrestless, darlin'?" asked Chloe, half an hour
afterward; "can't you go to sleep no how?"
"O mammy! if I could only see papa just for one moment to tell him
something. Do you think he would come to me?" sighed the little
girl. "Please, mammy, go down and see if he is busy. Don't say a
word if he is; but if not, ask him to come to me for just one
minute."
Chloe left the room immediately, but returned the next moment,
saying, "I jes looked into de parlor, darlin', an' Mass Horace he
mighty busy playin' chess wid Miss Lucy's mamma, an' I didn't say
nuffin' to him. Jes you go sleep, my pet, an' tell Mass Horace all
'bout it in de mornin'."
Elsie sighed deeply, and turning over on her pillow, cried herself
to sleep.
Chloe was just putting the finishing touches to the little girl's
dress the next morning, when Lucy Carrington rapped at the door.
"Good morning, Elsie," she said; "I was in a hurry to come to you,
because it is my last day, you know. Wasn't it too bad of your
father to send you off to bed so early last night?"
"No, Lucy, papa has a right to send me to bed whenever he pleases;
and besides, I was naughty and deserved to be punished; and it was
not much more than half an hour earlier than my usual bedtime."
"You naughty!" exclaimed Lucy, opening her eyes very wide. "Mamma
often says she wishes I was half as good."
Elsie sighed, but made no answer. Her thoughts seemed far away.
She was thinking of what she had been so anxious, the night
before, to say to her father, and trying to gain courage to do it
this morning. "If I could only get close to him when nobody was
by, and he would look and speak kindly to me, I could do it then,"
she murmured to herself.
"Come, Aunt Chloe, aren't you done? I want to have a run in the
garden before breakfast," said Lucy, somewhat impatiently, as
Chloe tied and untied Elsie's sash several times.
"Well, Miss Lucy, I'se done now," she answered, passing her hand
once more over her nursling's curls: "but Mass Horace he mighty
pertickler 'bout Miss Elsie."
"Yes," said Elsie, "papa wants me always to look very nice and
neat; and when I go down in the morning he just gives me one
glance from head to foot, and if anything is wrong he is sure to
see it and send me back immediately to have it made right. Now,
mammy, please give me my hat and let us go."
"You's got plenty ob time, chillens; de bell won't go for to ring
dis hour," remarked the old nurse, tying on Elsie's hat.
"My chile looks sweet an' fresh as a moss rosebud dis mornin',"
she added, talking to herself, as she watched the two little girls
tripping down-stairs hand in hand.
They skipped up and down the avenue several times, and ran all
round the garden before it was time to go in. Then Elsie went up
to Chloe to have her hair made smooth again. She was just
descending for the second time to the hall, where she had left
Lucy, when they saw a carriage drive up to the front door.
"There's papa!" cried Lucy, joyfully, as it stopped and a
gentleman sprang out and came up the steps into the portico; and
in an instant she was in his arms, receiving such kisses and
caresses as Elsie had vainly longed for all her life.
Lucy had several brothers, but was an only daughter, and a very
great pet, especially with her father.
Elsie watched them with a wistful look and a strange aching at her
heart.
But presently Mr. Carrington set Lucy down and turning to her,
gave her a shake of the hand, and then a kiss, saying, "How do you
do this morning, my dear? I'm afraid you are hardly glad to see
me, as I come to take Lucy away, for I suppose you have been
having fine times together."
"Yes, sir, indeed we have; and I hope you will let her come
again."
"Oh! yes, certainly; but the visits must not be all on one side. I
shall talk to your papa about it, and perhaps persuade him to let
us take you along this afternoon to spend a week at Ashlands."
"Oh! how delightful!" cried Lucy, clapping her hands. "Elsie, do
you think he will let you go?"
"I don't know, I'm afraid not," replied the little girl
doubtfully.
"You must coax him, as I do my papa," said Lucy.
But at this Elsie only shook her head, and just then the
breakfast-bell rang.
Mr. Dinsmore was already in the breakfast-room, and Elsie, going
up to him, said, "Good morning, papa."
"Good morning, Elsie," he replied, but his tone was so cold that
even if no one else had been by, she could not have said another
word.
He had not intended to be influenced by the information Arthur had
so maliciously given him the night before; yet unconsciously he
was, and his manner to his little daughter was many degrees colder
than it had been for some time.
After breakfast Lucy reminded Elsie of a promise she had made to
show her some beautiful shells which her father had collected in
his travels, and Elsie led the way to the cabinet, a small room
opening into the library, and filled with curiosities.
They had gone in alone, but were soon followed by Arthur, Walter
and Enna.
Almost everything in the room belonged to Mr. Horace Dinsmore; and
Elsie, knowing that many of the articles were rare and costly, and
that he was very careful of them, begged Enna and the boys to go
out, lest they should accidentally do some mischief.
"I won't," replied Arthur. "I've just as good a right to be here
as you."
As he spoke he gave her a push, which almost knocked her over, and
in catching at a table to save herself from falling, she threw
down a beautiful vase of rare old china, which Mr. Dinsmore prized
very highly. It fell with a loud crash, and lay scattered in
fragments at their feet.
"There, see what you've done!" exclaimed Arthur, as the little
group stood aghast at the mischief.
It happened that Mr. Dinsmore was just then in the library, and
the noise soon brought him upon the scene of action.
"Who did this?" he asked, in a wrathful tone, looking from one to
the other.
"Elsie," said Arthur; "she threw it down and broke it."
"Troublesome, careless child! I would not have taken a hundred
dollars for that vase," he exclaimed. "Go to your room! go this
instant, and stay there until I send for you; and remember, if you
ever come in here again without permission I shall punish you."
He opened the door as he spoke, and Elsie flew across the hall, up
the stairs, and into her own room, without once pausing or looking
back.
"Now go out, every one of you, and don't come in here again; this
is no place for children," said Mr. Dinsmore, turning the others
into the hall, and shutting and locking the door upon them.
"You ought to be ashamed, Arthur Dinsmore," exclaimed Lucy
indignantly; "it was all your own fault, and Elsie was not to
blame at all, and you know it."
"I didn't touch the old vase, and I'm not going to take the blame
of it, either, I can tell you, miss," replied Arthur, moving off,
followed by Walter and Enna, while Lucy walked to the other end of
the hall, and stood looking out of the window, debating in her own
mind whether she had sufficient courage to face Mr. Dinsmore, and
make him understand where the blame of the accident ought to lie.
At length she seemed to have solved the question; for turning
about and moving noiselessly down the passage to the library door,
she gave a timid little rap, which was immediately answered by Mr.
Dinsmore's voice saying, "Come in."
Lucy opened the door and walked in, closing it after her.
Mr. Dinsmore sat at a table writing, and he looked up with an
expression of mingled surprise and impatience.
"What do you want, Miss Lucy?" he said, "speak quickly, for I am
very busy."
"I just wanted to tell you, sir," replied Lucy, speaking up quite
boldly, "that Elsie was not at all to blame about the vase; for it
was Arthur who pushed her and made her fall against the table, and
that was the way the vase came to fall and break."
"What made him push her?" he asked.
"Just because Elsie asked him, and Walter, and Enna to go out, for
fear they might do some mischief."
Mr. Dinsmore's pen was suspended over the paper for a moment,
while he sat thinking with a somewhat clouded brow; but presently
turning to the little girl, he said quite pleasantly, "Very well,
Miss Lucy, I am much obliged to you for your information, for I
should be very sorry to punish Elsie unjustly. And now will you do
me the favor to go to her and tell her that her papa says she need
not stay in her room any longer?"
"Yes, sir, I will," replied Lucy, her face sparkling with delight
as she hurried off with great alacrity to do his bidding.
She found Elsie in her room crying violently, and throwing her
arms around her neck she delivered Mr. Dinsmore's message,
concluding with, "So now, Elsie, you see you needn't cry, nor feel
sorry any more; but just dry your eyes and let us go down into the
garden and have a good time."
Elsie was very thankful to Lucy, and very glad that her papa now
knew that she was not to blame; but she was still sorry for his
loss, and his words had wounded her too deeply to be immediately
forgotten; indeed it was some time before the sore spot they had
made in her heart was entirely healed. But she tried to forget it
all and enter heartily into the sports proposed by Lucy.
The Carringtons were not to leave until the afternoon, and the
little girls spent nearly the whole morning in the garden, coming
into the drawing-room a few moments before the dinner-bell rang.
Mrs. Carrington sat on a sofa engaged with some fancy work, while
Herbert, who had not felt well enough to join the other children,
had stretched himself out beside her, putting his head in her lap.
Mr. Carrington and Mr. Horace Dinsmore were conversing near by.
Lucy ran up to her papa and seated herself upon his knee with her
arm around his neck; while Elsie stopped a moment to speak to
Herbert, and then timidly approaching her father, with her eyes
upon the floor, said in a low, half-frightened tone, that reached
no ear but his, "I am very sorry about the vase, papa."
He took her hand, and drawing her close to him, pushed back the
hair from her forehead with his other hand, and bending down to
her, said almost in a whisper, "Never mind, daughter, we will
forget all about it. I am sorry I spoke so harshly to you, since
Lucy tells me you were not so much to blame."
Elsie's face flushed with pleasure, and she looked up gratefully;
but before she had time to reply, Mrs. Carrington said, "Elsie, we
want to take you home with us to spend a week; will you go?"
"I should like to, very much, indeed, ma'am, if papa will let me,"
replied the little girl, looking wistfully up into his face.
"Well, Mr. Dinsmore, what do you say? I hope you can have no
objection," said Mrs. Carrington, looking inquiringly at him;
while her husband added, "Oh! yes, Dinsmore, you must let her go
by all means; you can certainly spare her for a week, and it need
be no interruption to her lessons, as she can share with Lucy in
the instructions of our governess, who is really a superior
teacher."
Mr. Dinsmore was looking very grave, and Elsie knew from the
expression of his countenance what his answer would be, before he
spoke. He had noticed the indignant glance Lucy had once or twice
bestowed upon him, and remembering Arthur's report of the
conversation between the two little girls the night before, had
decided in his own mind that the less Elsie saw of Lucy the
better.
"I thank you both for your kind attention to my little girl," he
replied courteously, "but while fully appreciating your kindness
in extending the invitation, I must beg leave to decline it, as I
am satisfied that home is the best place for her at present."
"Ah! no, I suppose we ought hardly to have expected you to spare
her so soon after your return," said Mrs. Carrington; "but,
really, I am very sorry to be refused, for Elsie is such a good
child that I am always delighted to have Lucy and Herbert with
her."
"Perhaps you think better of her than she deserves, Mrs.
Carrington. I find that Elsie is sometimes naughty and in need of
correction, as well as other children, and therefore, I think it
best to keep her as much as possible under my own eye," replied
Mr. Dinsmore, looking very gravely at his little daughter as he
spoke.
Elsie's face flushed painfully, and she had hard work to keep from
bursting into tears. It was a great relief to her that just at
that moment the dinner-bell rang, and there was a general movement
in the direction of the dining-room. Her look was touchingly
humble as her father led her in and seated her at the table.
She was thinking, "Papa says I am naughty sometimes, but oh! how
_very_ naughty he would think me if he knew all the wicked
feelings I had yesterday."
As soon as they had risen from the table, Mrs. Carrington bade
Lucy go up to her maid to have her bonnet put on, as the carriage
was already at the door.
Elsie would have gone with her, but her father had taken her hand
again, and he held it fast.
She looked up inquiringly into his face.
"Stay here," he said. "Lucy will be down again in a moment."
And Elsie stood quietly at his side until Lucy returned.
But even then her father did not relinquish his hold of her hand,
and all the talking the little girls could do must be done close
at his side.
Yet, as he was engaged in earnest conversation with Mr.
Carrington, and did not seem to be listening to them, Lucy
ventured to whisper to Elsie, "I think it's real mean of him; he
might let you go."
"No," replied Elsie, in the same low tone, "I'm sure papa knows
best; and besides, I _have_ been naughty, and don't deserve
to go, though I should like to, dearly."
"Well, good-bye," said Lucy, giving her a kiss.
It was not until Mr. Carrington's carriage was fairly on its way
down the avenue, that Mr. Dinsmore dropped his little girl's hand;
and then he said, "I want you in the library, Elsie; come to me in
half an hour."
"Yes, papa, I will," she replied, looking a little frightened.
"You need not be afraid," he said, in a tone of displeasure; "I am
not going to hurt you."
Elsie blushed and hung her head, but made no reply, and he turned
away and left her. She could not help wondering what he wanted
with her, and though she tried not to feel afraid, it was
impossible to keep from trembling a little as she knocked at the
library door.
Her father's voice said, "Come in," and entering, she found him
alone, seated at a table covered with papers and writing
materials, while beside the account book in which he was writing
lay a pile of money, in bank notes, and gold and silver.
"Here, Elsie," he said, laying down his pen, "I want to give you
your month's allowance. Your grandfather has paid it to you
heretofore, but of course, now that I am at home, I attend to
everything that concerns you. You have been receiving eight
dollars--I shall give you ten," and he counted out the money and
laid it before her as he spoke; "but I shall require a strict
account of all that you spend. I want you to learn to keep
accounts, for if you live, you will some day have a great deal of
money to take care of; and here is a blank book that I have
prepared, so that you can do so very easily. Every time that you
lay out or give away any money, you must set it down here as soon
as you come home; be particular about that, lest you should forget
something, because you must bring your book to me at the end of
every month, and let me see how much you have spent, and what is
the balance in hand; and if you are not able to make it come out
square, and tell me what you have done with every penny, you will
lose either the whole or a part of your allowance for the next
month, according to the extent of your delinquency. Do you
understand?"
"Yes, sir."
"Very well. Let me see now how much you can remember of your last
month's expenditures. Take the book and set down everything you
can think of."
Elsie had a good memory, and was able to remember how she had
spent almost every cent during the time specified; and she set
down one item after another, and then added up the column without
any mistake.
"That was very well done," said her father approvingly. And then
running over the items half aloud, "Candy, half a dollar;
remember, Elsie, there is to be no more money disposed of in that
way; not as a matter of economy, by any means, but because I
consider is very injurious. I am very anxious that you should grow
up strong and healthy. I would not for anything have you a
miserable dyspeptic."
Then suddenly closing the book and handing it to her, he said,
inquiringly, "You were very anxious to go to Ashlands?"
"I would have liked to go, papa, if you had been willing," she
replied meekly.
"I am afraid Lucy is not a suitable companion for you, Elsie. I
think she puts bad notions into your head," he said very gravely.
Elsie flushed and trembled, and was just opening her lips to make
her confession, when the door opened and her grandfather entered.
She could not speak before him, and so remained silent.
"Does she not sometimes say naughty things to you?" asked her
father, speaking so low that her grandfather could not have heard.
"Yes, sir," replied the little girl, almost under her breath.
"I thought so," said he, "and therefore I shall keep you apart as
entirely as possible; and I hope there will be no murmuring on
your part."
"No, papa, you know best," she answered, very humbly.
Then, putting the money into her hands, he dismissed her. When she
had gone out he sat for a moment in deep thought. Elsie's list of
articles bought with her last month's allowance consisted almost
entirely of gifts for others, generally the servants. There were
some beads and sewing-silk for making a purse, and a few drawing
materials; but with the exception of the candy, she had bought
nothing else for herself. This was what her father was thinking
of.
"She is a dear, unselfish, generous little thing," he said to
himself. "However, I may be mistaken; I must not allow myself to
judge from only one month. She seems submissive, too,"--he had
overheard what passed between her and Lucy at parting--"but
perhaps that was for effect; she probably suspected I could hear
her--and she thinks me a tyrant, and obeys from fear, not love."
This thought drove away all the tender feeling that had been
creeping into his heart; and when he next met his little daughter,
his manner was as cold and distant as ever, and Elsie found it
impossible to approach him with sufficient freedom to tell him
what was in her heart.
CHAPTER FIFTH
"Man is unjust, but God is just; and finally justice
Triumphs."
--LONGFELLOW'S _Evangeline_.
"How disappointment tracks
The steps of hope!"
--MISS LANDON.
One afternoon, the next week after the Carringtons had left, the
younger members of the family, Arthur, Elsie, Walter and Enna,
were setting out to take a walk, when Elsie, seeing a gold chain
depending from the pocket of Arthur's jacket, exclaimed:
"O Arthur! how _could_ you take grandpa's watch? _Do_
put it away, for you will be almost sure to injure it."
"Hold your tongue, Elsie; I'll do as I please," was the polite
rejoinder.
"But, Arthur, you _know_ that grandpa would never let you
take it. I have often heard him say that it was very valuable, for
it was seldom that so good a one could be had at any price; and I
know that he paid a great deal for it."
"Well, if he prizes it so, he needn't have left it lying on his
table, and so I'll just teach him a lesson; it's about time he
learnt to be careful."
"O Arthur! do put it away," pleaded Elsie, "if anything should
happen to it, what will grandpa say? I know he will be very angry,
and ask us all who did it; and you know I cannot tell a lie, and
if he asks me if it was you, I cannot say no."
"Yes, I'll trust you for telling tales," replied Arthur,
sneeringly; "but if you do, I'll pay you for it."
He ran down the avenue as he spoke, Walter and Enna following, and
Elsie slowly bringing up the rear, looking the picture of
distress, for she knew not what to do, seeing that Arthur would
not listen to her remonstrances, and, as often happened, all the
older members of the family were out, and thus there was no
authority that could be appealed to in time to prevent the
mischief which she had every reason to fear would be done. Once
she thought of turning back, that she might escape the necessity
of being a witness in the case; but, remembering that her father
told her she must walk with the others that afternoon, and also
that, as she had already seen the watch in Arthur's possession,
her testimony would be sufficient to convict him even if she saw
no more, she gave up the idea, and hurried on, with the faint hope
that she might be able to induce Arthur to refrain from indulging
in such sports as would be likely to endanger the watch; or else
to give it into her charge. At any other time she would have
trembled at the thought of touching it; but now she felt so sure
it would be safer with her than with him, that she would gladly
have taken the responsibility.
The walk was far from being a pleasure that afternoon; the boys
ran so fast that it quite put her out of breath to keep up with
them; and then every little while Arthur would cut some caper that
made her tremble for the watch; answering her entreaties that he
would either give it into her care or walk along quietly, with
sneers and taunts, and declarations of his determination to do
just exactly as he pleased, and not be ruled by her.
But at length, while he was in the act of climbing a tree, the
watch dropped from his pocket and fell to the ground, striking
with considerable force.
Elsie uttered a scream, and Arthur, now thoroughly frightened
himself, jumped down and picked it up.
The crystal was broken, the back dented, and how much the works
were injured they could not tell; but it had ceased to run.
"O Arthur! see what you've done!" exclaimed Walter.
"What will papa say?" said Enna; while Elsie stood pale and
trembling, not speaking a word.
"You hush!" exclaimed Arthur fiercely. "I'll tell you what, if any
of you dare to tell of me, I'll make you sorry for it to the last
day of your life. Do you hear?"
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