Chapter Twentieth.
"Not mine--yet dear to me--fair, fragrant blossom Of a fair tree-- Crushed to the earth in life's first glorious summer,-- Thou'rt dear to me, Child of the lost, the buried and the sainted." --Mrs. Wiley.
The housekeeper's room, to which she now led the little Elsie, was acheery, pleasant place, On a small round table, covered with snowysatin-like damask, and a service of glittering silverware, cut glassand Sevres china, a tempting little repast was laid out for the two.
Mrs. Murray took her seat, and Aunt Chloe lifted Elsie into a highchair opposite.
The little one closed her eyes, folded her baby hands and bentreverently over her plate, while Mrs. Murray asked, in a few simplewords, a blessing on their food.
Aunt Chloe waited on them while they ate, devoting herself particularlyto her infant charge, as another servant was in attendance, thenwithdrew to the servants' hall to eat her own supper.
And now Mrs. Murray, seating herself in a low rocking-chair, took thechild on her lap.
Elsie nestled in her arms, laid her head on her shoulder, and softlypatting her cheek, said, "I love you, Mrs. Murray."
"I dinna doubt it, my sweet, bit lassie, and I love you too; dearly,dearly," the good woman returned, accompanying the words with tender,motherly caresses. "And the dear Lord Jesus loves you better still,darling. Never forget that, never doubt that you are His own preciouslambkin, and that He is always near to hear you when you pray."
"Yes, I know," answered the child, "Jesus loves little children, Jesusloves little Elsie. And some day He'll let Elsie go to live wis Him andwis her sweet, pretty mamma. Jesus loves my mamma, and lets her live'long wis Him."
"Yes, dear, she is there in that happy land. And uncle has gone to bewith her now."
The child started, lifted up her head, and gazing earnestly,questioningly into the housekeeper's eyes, asked, "Uncle gone too? Willhe come back again?"
"No, dear bairn, they never want to come back from that blessed land;they are so happy there with the dear Saviour."
"Why didn't he take Elsie 'long!" cried the child, bursting intotears; "I want to go dere too."
"Jesus didn't send for you this time, sweet pet," the housekeeperanswered with emotion, and folding the little form closer to her heart;"He would have you and me bide here yet a bit; but some day He willcall us home too. He's getting a very lovely home ready for us there."
"For my papa too?"
"I trust so, darling."
"Where is my papa? why doesn't he come to Elsie."
"I don't know, my bonnie bairn. I think he will come some day."
"And take Elsie on his knee, and kiss her and love her?"
"Surely, surely, darling. And you have a grandpa, who will be herebefore many days, I trust."
"Grandpa that's gone to heaven?"
"No; that is Grandpa Grayson, your sweet mamma's father; this isGrandpa Dinsmore, your papa's father."
The child looked thoughtful for a moment, then with a joyous smileexclaimed, "Elsie's so glad! I wish he'd come now. Elsie will love himever so much."
"May the Lord open his heart to love you in return, sweet bairnie,"sighed the good woman. "But not to take you frae me," she addedmentally.
The child pleaded for "stories 'bout mamma; Elsie's mamma when she waslittle girlie, and played wis her little brothers and sisters."
Mrs. Murray having been housekeeper at Viamede for nearly twenty years,had a plentiful store of these laid up in her memory. Each one had beenrepeated for the little girl's entertainment a score of times or more,but repetition seemed to have no power to lessen their interest for her.
"Why doesn't Elsie have brothers and sisters?" she asked during a pausein the narration. "Elsie do want some so bad!"
"Our Father didna see fit to give you any, dear bairn; and so you musttry to be content without," Mrs. Murray answered, with a tender caress;"we canna have all we would like in this world; but when we get homewhere the dear Lord Jesus is, we'll have nothing left to wish for; ourcup o' joy will be full to overflowing. Now bid me good-night, my weebonnie, bonnie darling, for here's mammy come to take you to bed."
The child complied with alacrity. She and her mammy were devotedlyattached to each other, and had seldom been apart for an hour since thelittle girl first saw the light.
And the nurse, though wholly uneducated, was as simple-hearted andearnest a Christian as Mrs. Murray herself, and faithfully carried outthe dying injunction of the young mother, to try to teach her littleone, from her earliest years, to love and fear the Lord.
She talked and sang to her of Jesus before she was a year old, andas soon as she began to speak, taught her to kneel night and morningwith folded hands and lisp her little prayer. And she, too, told hersweet stories of the mother she had never known, of the beautiful homewhither she had gone, of the loving Saviour who was with her there, andalso on earth watching over her darling.
Every night she rocked her to sleep in her arms, soothing her to restwith these ever new stories, and the sweet wild melodies common amongher race.
Aunt Chloe had known sorrows many and bitter, not the least of themthe untimely death of Elsie's mother, and with none left to her inwhose veins her own blood flowed, clung to this nursling with a lovethat would have hesitated at no sacrifice for the good of its object,a passionate, yearning tenderness that would have led her to choosedeath for herself rather than separation. The big tears chased eachother down her sable cheeks at the bare thought of such a possibility,as she held her sleeping treasure in her arms that night.
She knew little of the child's father, nothing whatever of thegrandfather or any other of the paternal relatives, and her heartmisgave her lest there might be trouble in store for herself and herbeloved charge.
Some one came in softly through the open door, and Chloe looked up withthe tears still on her cheeks, to find the housekeeper close at herside. "What is it, Aunt Chloe?" she asked, in a tone of alarm; "thedear bairn is not ill?"
Chloe only shook her head, while her bosom heaved with half-suppressedsobs.
"Ah, I know what it is!" sighed Mrs. Murray; "your heart trembles wi'the vera same fear that oppresses mine:--lest the darling o' our dearlove be torn frae our arms. But we winna greet for sorrow that maynever come; we winna doubt His love and power who doeth all thingswell. Let us no forget that He loves her better far than we do.
"Said the saintly Rutherford, 'I shall charge my soul to believe and towait for Him, and shall follow His providence, and not go before it,nor stay behind it.' Let us make the same resolve, Aunt Chloe, and behappy while we may; be happy alway; for His loving kindness shall neverfail.
"Dinna ye mind his word, 'I am the Lord who exercise loving kindness,judgment and righteousness in the earth; for in these things I delight,saith the Lord?'"
"Ef dey take my bressed lamb away, dis ole heart break for sure!"sobbed Chloe, clasping the child closer. "I's done gone los' eberytingelse!"
"No, no, Aunt Chloe! not the Lord!"
"No, missus, not de Lord! dat true. Hope He forgib de sinful word!"
"And not the hope of heaven!"
"No, no, missus, not dat either, bress His holy name!"
"It is a world of trial, Aunt Chloe, but He never sends one that is naneedful for us; and 'when His people cannot have a providence of silkand roses, they must be content with such an one as he carveth out forthem.' 'How soon would grace freeze without a cross!'"
"Dat true, missus; an' we mus' take de cross first or we can't hab decrown at de las'," she assented with a heavy sigh. "Missus, do youknow what gwine be done now? will dey sell de plantation?"
"Oh, no! it belongs to the bairn."
"De servants?"
"I don't think there is any danger o' that either; for they, too, arehers."
Aunt Chloe breathed more freely. "Will Massa Dinsmore come an' libheyah hisself?" she asked.
"That I canna tell," Mrs. Murray said, shakin
g her head and sighingslightly. "But, Aunt Chloe, I dinna think ye need fear bein' partedfrae the bairn. They may take her frae me, but they'll no be likelyto separate her from her mammy; wherever she goes you will, in a'probability, go also."
Chloe asked if Elsie was to be taken away from Viamede; to which thehousekeeper answered that she did not know; indeed, nothing could beknown till Mr. Dinsmore came.
"But," she added, "whether the sweet Bairn's home be here or elsewhere,an attendant will be needed, and I see no reason why the old mammy, wholoves her sae dearly, should be exchanged for another. I wad be blitheto think myself as secure o' bein' kept near her; but they're no saelikely to want a housekeeper as a nurse, should they decide to changeher abode."
"Tank de Lord for dat!" ejaculated Aunt Chloe, half under her breath,as she rose and gently laid the sleeping child in her bed. "I tink mybressed lamb neber be happy widout her ole mammy to lub her, an' Ihopes dey'll let you stay too, missus. I'e afraid Massa Dinsmore notcare much 'bout his little chile; 'cause ef he do, why he neber comefor to see her?"
The words sounded to Mrs. Murray like the echo of her own thoughts.
"I dinna understand it," she whispered, bending over the little oneto press a tender kiss on the softly rounded, rosy cheek. "I cannacomprehend it; but the sweet wean has had a happy life thus far, andplease God, Aunt Chloe, she'll ne'er want for love while he leaves herin our care."
Mildred at Roselands Page 20
