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
The question was addressed to Elsie in a tone of defiance.
"Arthur," said she, "grandpa will know that _somebody_ did
it, and surely you would not wish an innocent person to be
punished for _your_ fault."
"I don't care _who_ gets punished, so that papa does not find
out that I did it," said he furiously; "and if you dare to tell of
me, I'll pay you for it."
"I shall say nothing, unless it becomes necessary to save the
innocent, or I am forced to speak; but in that case I shall tell
the truth," replied Elsie, firmly.
Arthur doubled up his fist, and made a plunge at her as if he
meant to knock her down; but Elsie sprang behind the tree, and
then ran so fleetly toward the house that he was not able to
overtake her until his passion had had time to cool.
When they reached the house, Arthur replaced the watch on his
father's table, whence he had taken it, and then they all awaited
his return with what courage they might.
"I say, Wally," said Arthur, drawing his little brother aside and
speaking in a low tone, having first sent a cautious glance around
to assure himself that no one else was within hearing; "I say,
what would you give me for that new riding whip of mine?"
"O Arthur! anything I've got," exclaimed the little boy eagerly.
"But you wouldn't give it up, I know, and you're only trying to
tease me."
"No, indeed, Wal; I mean to _give_ it to you if you'll only
be a good fellow and do as I tell you."
"What?" he asked, with intense interest.
"Tell papa that Jim broke the watch."
"But he _didn't_" replied the child, opening his eyes wide
with astonishment.
"Well, what of that, you little goose?" exclaimed Arthur
impatiently; "papa doesn't know that."
"But Jim will get punished," said Walter, "and I don't want to
tell such a big story either."
"Very well, sir, then you'll not get the whip; and, besides, if
you don't do as I wish, I'm certain you'll see a ghost one of
these nights; for there's one comes to see me sometimes, and I'll
send him right off to you."
"Oh! _don't_, Arthur, don't; I'd die of fright," cried the
little boy, who was very timid, glancing nervously around, as if
he expected the ghost to appear immediately.
"I tell you I will, though, if you don't do as I say; he'll come
this very night and carry you off, and never bring you back."
"O Arthur! don't let him come, and I'll say anything you want me
to," cried the little fellow in great terror.
"That's a good boy; I knew you would," said Arthur, smiling
triumphantly. And turning away from Walter, he next sought out
Enna, and tried his threats and persuasions upon her with even
better success.
Elsie had gone directly to her own room, where she sat trembling
every time a footstep approached her door, lest it should be a
messenger from her grandfather. No one came, however, and at last
the tea-bell rang, and on going down she found to her relief that
her grandfather and his wife had not yet returned.
"You look pale, Elsie," said her father, giving her a scrutinizing
glance as she took her seat by his side. "Are you well?"
"Yes, papa, quite well," she replied.
He looked at her again a little anxiously, but said no more; and
as soon as the meal was concluded, Elsie hastened away to her own
room again.
It was still early in the evening when Mr. and Mrs. Dinsmore
returned--for once, bringing no company with them; and he had not
been many minutes in the house ere he took up his watch, and of
course instantly discovered the injury it had sustained.
His suspicions at once fell upon Arthur, whose character for
mischief was well established; and burning with rage, watch in
hand, he repaired to the drawing-room, which he entered, asking,
in tones tremulous with passion, "Where is Arthur! Young rascal!
this is some of _his_ work," he added, holding up the injured
article.
"My dear, how can you say so? have you any proof?" asked his wife,
deprecatingly adding in her softest tones, "my poor boy seems to
get the blame of everything that goes wrong."
"He gets no more than he deserves," replied her husband angrily.
"Arthur! Arthur, I say, where are you?"
"He is in the garden, sir, I think. I saw him walking in the
shrubbery a moment since," said Mr. Horace Dinsmore.
The father instantly despatched a servant to bring him in; sending
a second in search of the overseer; while a third was ordered to
assemble all the house-servants. "I will sift this matter to the
bottom, and child or servant, the guilty one shall suffer for it,"
exclaimed the old gentleman, pacing angrily up and down the room.
"Arthur," said he sternly, as the boy made his appearance, looking
somewhat pale and alarmed, "how dared you meddle with my watch?"
"I didn't, sir; I never touched it," he replied boldly, yet
avoiding his father's eye as he uttered the deliberate falsehood.
"There, my dear, I told you so," exclaimed his mother,
triumphantly.
"I don't believe you," said his father; "and if you are guilty, as
I strongly suspect, you had better confess it at once, before I
find it out in some other way."
"I didn't do it, sir. It was Jim, and I can prove it by Walter and
Enna; we all saw it fall from his pocket when he was up in a tree;
and he cried like anything when he found it was broken, and said
he didn't mean to do it any harm; he was only going to wear it a
little while, and then put it back all safe; but now master would
be dreadfully angry, and have him flogged."
"That I will, if it is true," exclaimed the old gentleman,
passionately; "he shall be well whipped and sent out to work on
the plantation. I'll keep no such meddlers about my house."
He looked at Enna. "What do you know of this?" he asked.
"It is true, papa, I saw him do it," she replied, with a slight
blush, and sending an uneasy glance around the room.
"Did you see it, too, Walter?" asked his father.
"Yes, sir," replied the little fellow, in a low, reluctant tone;
"but please, papa, don't punish him. I'm sure he didn't mean to
break it."
"Hold your tongue! he _shall_ be punished as he deserves,"
cried the old gentleman, furiously. "Here, sir," turning to the
overseer, and pointing to Jim, "take the fellow out, and give him
such a flogging as he will remember."
Elsie was sitting in her own room, trying to learn a lesson for
the next day, but finding great difficulty in fixing her thoughts
upon it, when she was startled by the sudden entrance of Aunt
Chloe, who, with her apron to her eyes, was sobbing violently.
"O mammy, mammy! what's the matter? has anything happened to you?"
inquired the little girl, in a tone of great alarm, starting to
her feet, and dropping her book in her haste and fright.
"Why," sobbed Chloe, "Jim, he's been an' gone an' broke ole
master's watch, an' he's gwine be whipped, an' old Aunt Phoebe
she's cryin' fit to break her ole heart 'bout her boy, kase--"
Elsie waited to hear no more, but darting out into the hall, and
encountering her father on his way to his room, she rushed up to
him, pale and agitated, and seizing his hand, looked up eagerly
into his face, exclaiming with a burst of tears and sobs, "O papa,
papa! don't, oh! _don't_ let them whip poor Jim."
Mr. Dinsmore's countenance was very grave, almost distressed.
"I am sorry it is necessary, daughter," he said, "but Jim has done
very wrong, and deserves his punishment, and I cannot interfere."
"Oh! no, papa, he did not, _indeed_ he did not break the
watch. I _know_ he didn't, for I was by and saw it all."
"Is it _possible?_" said he, in a tone of surprise; "then
tell me who did do it. It could not have been you, Elsie?" and he
looked searchingly into her face.
"Oh! no, papa, I would never have dared to touch it. But please
don't make me tell tales; but I know it wasn't Jim. Oh! _do_
stop them quickly, before they begin to whip him."
"Aunt Chloe," said Mr. Dinsmore, "go down to my father, and tell
him it is my request that the punishment should be delayed a few
moments until I come down."
Then taking Elsie's hand, he led her into her room again, and
seating himself, drew her to his side, saying, with grave
decision, "Now, my daughter, if you want to save Jim, it will be
necessary for you to tell _all_ you know about this affair."
"I don't like to tell tales, papa," pleaded the little girl; "I
think it so very mean. Is it not enough for me to tell that I know
Jim didn't do it?"
"No, Elsie; I have already said that it is _quite necessary_
for you to tell _all you know_."
"O papa! don't make me; I don't like to do it," she urged, with
tears in her eyes.
"I should be very much ashamed of you, and quite unwilling to own
you as my child, if under any other circumstances you were willing
to tell tales," he replied, in a tone of kindness that quite
surprised Elsie, who always trembled at the very thought of
opposing the slightest resistance to his will; "but," he added,
firmly, "it is the only way to save Jim; if you do not now make a
full disclosure of all you know, he will be severely whipped and
sent away to work on the plantation, which will distress his poor
old mother exceedingly. Elsie, I think you would be doing very
wickedly to allow an innocent person to suffer when you can
prevent it; and besides, I will add the weight of my authority, and
say you _must do it at once_; and you well know, my daughter,
that there can be no question as to the duty of obedience to your father."
He paused, gazing earnestly down into the little tearful,
downcast, blushing face at his side.
"Have I not said enough to convince you of your duty?" he asked.
"Yes, papa; I will tell you all about it," she answered in a
tremulous tone.
Her story was told with evident reluctance, but in a simple,
straightforward manner, that attested its truthfulness.
Mr. Dinsmore listened in silence, but with an expression of
indignation on his handsome features; and the moment she had
finished he rose, and again taking her hand, led her from the
room, saying, as he did so:
"You must repeat this story to your grandfather."
"O papa! must I? Won't you tell him? please don't make me do it,"
she pleaded tremblingly, and hanging back.
"My daughter, you _must_," he replied, so sternly that she
dared not make any further resistance, but quietly submitted to be
led into her grandfather's presence.
He was still in the drawing-room, walking about in a disturbed and
angry manner, and now and then casting a suspicious glance upon
Arthur, who sat pale and trembling in a corner, looking the
picture of guilt and misery; for he had heard Chloe deliver his
brother's message, and feared that exposure awaited him.
Walter had stolen away to cry over Jim's punishment, and wish that
he had had the courage to tell the truth at first; but saying to
himself that it was too late now, his father wouldn't believe him,
and he would make it up to Jim somehow, even if it took all his
pocket-money for a month.
None of the other members of the family had left the room, and all
wore an anxious, expectant look, as Mr. Dinsmore entered, leading
Elsie by the hand.
"I have brought you another witness, sir," he said, "for it seems
Elsie was present when the mischief was done."
"Ah!" exclaimed the old gentlemen; "then I may hope to get at the
truth. Elsie, who broke my watch?"
"It was not Jim, grandpa, indeed, _indeed_, it was not; but
oh! _please_ don't make me say who it was," replied the little
girl, beseechingly.
"Elsie!" exclaimed her father, in a tone of stern reproof.
"O papa! how can I?" she sobbed, trembling and clinging to his
hand as she caught a threatening look from Arthur.
"Come, come, child, you must tell us all you know about it," said
her grandfather, "or else I can't let Jim off."
Mr. Dinsmore was looking down at his little girl, and, following
the direction of her glance, perceived the cause of her terror.
"Don't be afraid to speak out and tell all you know, daughter, for
I will protect you," he said, pressing the little trembling hand
in his, and at the same time giving Arthur a meaning look.
"Yes, yes, speak out, child; speak out at once; no one shall hurt
you for telling the truth," exclaimed her grandfather, impatiently.
"I will, grandpa," she said, trembling and weeping; "but please
don't be very angry with Arthur; if you will forgive him this
time, I think he will never meddle any more; and I am quite sure
he did not mean to break it."
"So it _was you_, after all, you young rascal! I knew it from
the first!" cried the old gentleman, striding across the room,
seizing the boy by the shoulder and shaking him roughly.
"But go on, Elsie, let us have the whole story," he added, turning
to her again, but still keeping his hold upon Arthur. "You young
dog!" he added, when she had finished. "Yes, I'll forgive you when
you've had a good, sound flogging, and a week's solitary
confinement on bread and water, but not before."
So saying, he was about to lead him from the room, when Elsie
suddenly sprang forward, and with clasped hands, and flushed,
eager face, she pleaded earnestly, beseechingly, "O grandpa! don't
whip him, don't punish him! He will never be so naughty again.
Will you, Arthur? Let _me pay_ for the watch, grandpa, and
don't punish him. I would so like to do it."
"It isn't the moneyed value of the watch I care for, child,"
replied the old gentleman, contemptuously; "and besides, where
would you get so much money?"
"I am rich, grandpa, am I not? Didn't my mamma leave me a great
deal of money?" asked the little girl, casting down her eyes and
blushing painfully.
"No, Elsie," said her father, very gently, as he took her hand and
led her back to the side of his chair again, "you have nothing but
what I choose to give you, until you come of age, which will not
be for a great many years yet."
"But you _will_ give me the money to pay for the watch papa,
_won't_ you?" she asked, pleadingly.
"No, I certainly shall not, for I think Arthur should be left to
suffer the penalty of his own misdeeds," he replied in a very
decided tone; "and, besides," he added, "your grandfather has
already told you that it is not the pecuniary loss he cares for."
"No; but I will teach this young rascal to let my property alone,"
said the elder gentleman with almost fierce determination, as he
tightened his grasp upon the boy's arm and dragged him from the
room.
Arthur cast a look of hatred and defiance at Elsie as he went out,
that made her grow pale with fear and tremble so that she could
scarcely stand.
Her father saw both the look and its effect, and drawing the
little trembler closer to him, he put his arm around her, and
stroking her hair, said in a low, soothing tone: "Don't be
frightened, daughter; I will protect you."
She answered him with a grateful look and a long sigh of relief,
and he was just about to take her on his knee when visitors were
announced, and, changing his mind, he dismissed her to her room,
and she saw no more of him that evening.
"Oh! if they only _hadn't_ come just now," thought the sorely
disappointed child, as she went out with slow, reluctant steps.
"I'm sure they wouldn't, if they had only known. I'm sure, quite
sure papa was going to take me on his knee, and they prevented
him. Oh! will be ever think of doing it again! Dear, dear papa, if
you could only know how I long to sit there!" But Mrs. Dinsmore,
who had hastily retired on the exit of Arthur and his father from
the drawing-room, was now sailing majestically down the hall, on
her return thither; and Elsie, catching sight of her, and being
naturally anxious to avoid a meeting just then, at once quickened
her pace very considerably, almost running up the stairs to her
own room, where she found old Aunt Phoebe, Jim's mother, waiting
to speak with her.
The poor old creature was overflowing with gratitude, and her
fervent outpouring of thanks and blessings almost made Elsie
forget her disappointment for the time.
Then Jim came to the door, asking to see Miss Elsie, and poured
out his thanks amid many sobs and tears; for the poor fellow had
been terribly frightened--indeed, so astounded by the unexpected
charge, that he had not had a word to say in his own defence,
beyond an earnest and reiterated assertion of his entire
innocence; to which, however, his angry master had paid no
attention.
But at length Phoebe remembered that she had some baking to do,
and calling on Jim to come right along and split up some dry wood
to heat her oven, she went down to the kitchen followed by her
son, and Elsie was left alone with her nurse.
Chloe sat silently knitting, and the little girl, with her head
leaning upon her hand and her eyes fixed thoughtfully upon the
floor, was rehearsing again and again in her own mind all that had
just passed between her papa and herself; dwelling with lingering
delight upon everything approaching to a caress, every kind word,
every soothing tone of his voice; and then picturing to herself
all that he might have done and said if those unwelcome visitors
had not come in and put an end to the interview; and half hoping
that he would send for her when they had gone, she watched the
clock and listened intently for every sound.
But her bedtime came and she dared not stay up any longer; for his
orders had been peremptory that she should always retire precisely
at that hour, unless she had his express permission to remain up
longer.
She lay awake for some time, thinking of his unwonted kindness,
and indulging fond hopes for the future, then fell asleep to dream
that she was on her father's knee, and felt his arms folded
lovingly about her, and his kisses warm upon her cheek.
Her heart beat quickly as she entered the breakfast-room the next
morning.
The family were just taking their places at the table, and her
half-eager, half-timid "Good morning, papa," was answered by a
grave, absent "Good morning, Elsie," and turning to his father and
entering into a conversation with him on some business matter, he
took no further notice of his little daughter, excepting to see
that her plate was well supplied with such articles of food as he
allowed her to eat.
Elsie was sadly disappointed, and lingered about the room in the
vain hope of obtaining a smile or caress; but presently her father
went out, saying to the elder Mr. Dinsmore that he was going to
ride over to Ion, and would probably not return before night;
then, with a sigh, the little girl went back to her own room to
prepare her morning lessons.
Elsie was now happily free from Arthur's persecutions for a time;
for even after his release, he was too much afraid of his brother
openly to offer her any very serious annoyance, though he plotted
revenge in secret; yet the little girl's situation was far from
comfortable, and her patience often severely tried, for Mrs.
Dinsmore was excessively angry with her on Arthur's account, and
whenever her father was not present, treated her in the most
unkind manner; and from the same cause the rest of the family,
with the exception of her grandpa and Aunt Adelaide, were
unusually cold and distant; while her father, although careful to
see that all her wants were attended to, seldom took any further
notice of her; unless to reprove her for some childish fault
which, however trifling, never escaped his eye.
"You seem," said Adelaide to him one day, as he sent Elsie from
the room for some very slight fault, "to expect that child to be a
great deal more perfect than any grown person I ever saw, and to
understand all about the rules of etiquette."
"If you please, Adelaide," said he haughtily, "I should like to be
allowed to manage my own child as I see proper, without any
interference from others."
"Excuse me," replied his sister; "I had no intention of
interfering; but really, Horace, I do think you have no idea how
eagle-eyed you are for faults in her, nor how _very_ stern is
the tone in which you always reprove her. I have known Elsie a
great deal longer than you have, and I feel very certain that a
gentle reproof would do her quite as much good, and not wound her
half so much."
"Enough, Adelaide!" exclaimed her brother, impatiently. "If I were
ten years _younger_ than yourself, instead of that much older,
there might be some propriety in your advising and directing me thus;
as it is, I must say I consider it simply impertinent." And he left the
room with an angry stride, while Adelaide looked after him with the
thought, "I am glad you have no authority over me."
All that Adelaide had said was true; yet Elsie never complained,
never blamed her father, even in her heart; but, in her deep
humility, thought it was all because she was "so very naughty or
careless;" and she was continually making resolutions to be "oh!
_so_ careful always to do just right, and please dear papa,
so that some day he might learn to love her."
But, alas! that hope was daily growing fainter and fainter; his
cold and distant manner to her and his often repeated reproofs had
so increased her natural timidity and sensitiveness that she was
now very constrained in her approaches to him, and seldom ventured
to move or speak in his presence; and he would not see that this
timidity and embarrassment were the natural results of his
treatment, but attributed it all to want of affection. He saw that
she feared him, and to that feeling alone he gave credit for her
uniform obedience to his commands, while he had no conception of
the intense, but now almost despairing love for him that burned in
that little heart, and made the young life one longing, earnest
desire and effort to gain his affection.
CHAPTER SIXTH
"Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of
death, I will fear no evil; for thou art with me; thy rod and
thy staff, they comfort me."
--_Psalm_ xxiii. 4.
"'Tis but the cruel artifice of fate,
Thus to refine and vary on our woes,
To raise us from despair and give us hopes,
Only to plunge us in the gulf again,
And make us doubly wretched."
--TRAP's _Abramuh_.
It was Sabbath morning, and Elsie, ready dressed for church, stood
in the portico waiting for her father to come down and lift her
into the carriage, in which Adelaide, Louisa, and Enna were
already seated.
The coachman was in his seat, and the horses, a pair of young and
fiery steeds purchased by Mr. Dinsmore only a few days before,
were impatiently stamping and tossing their heads, requiring quite
an exertion of strength to hold them in.
"I don't exactly like the actions of those horses, Ajax," remarked
Mr. Dinsmore, as he came out putting on his gloves; "I did not
intend to have them put in harness to-day. Why did you not give us
the old bays?"
"Kase, Marster Horace, ole Kate she's got a lame foot, an' ole
marster he says dese youngsters is got to be used some time or
nuther, an' I reckoned I mout jis as well use 'em to-day."
"Do you feel quite sure of being able to hold them in?" asked his
master, glancing uneasily first at the horses and then at Elsie.
"Ki! marster, dis here chile ben able to hold in a'most anything,"
exclaimed the negro, exhibiting a double row of dazzlingly white
teeth; "an' besides, I'se drove dese here hosses twice 'fore now,
an' dey went splendid. Hold 'em in! Yes, sah, easy as nuffin."
"Elsie," said her father, still looking a little uneasy, in spite
of Ajax's boasting, "I think it would be just as well for you to
stay at home."
Elsie made no reply in words, but her answering look spoke such
intense disappointment, such earnest entreaty, that, saying, "Ah!
well, I suppose there is no real danger; and since you seem so
anxious to go, I will not compel you to stay at home," he lifted
her into the carriage, and seating himself beside her, ordered the
coachman to drive on as carefully as he could.
"Elsie, change seats with me," said Enna; "I want to sit beside
Brother Horace."
"No," replied Mr. Dinsmore, laying his hand on his little
daughter's shoulder, "Elsie's place is by me, and she shall sit
nowhere else."
"Do you think we are in any danger of being run away with?" asked
Adelaide, a little anxiously as she observed him glancing once or
twice out of the window, and was at the same time sensible that
their motion was unusually rapid.
"The horses are young and fiery, but Ajax is an excellent driver,"
he replied, evasively; adding, "You may be sure that if I had
thought the danger very great I would have left Elsie at home."
They reached the church without accident, but on their return the
horses took fright while going down a hill, and rushed along at a
furious rate, which threatened every instant to upset the
carriage.
Elsie thought they were going very fast, but did not know that
there was real danger until her father suddenly lifted her from
her seat, and placing her between his knees, held her tightly, as
though he feared she would be snatched from his grasp.
Elsie looked up into his face. It was deadly pale, and his eyes
were fixed upon her with an expression of anguish.
"Dear papa," she whispered, "God will take care of us."
Pages:
1 |
2 |
3 |
4 |
5 |
6 |
7 | 8 |
9 |
10 |
11 |
12 |
13 |
14 |
15 |
16 |
17 |
18