Chapter Twenty-fourth.
"Must I leave thee, Paradise? thus leave Thee, native soil, these happy walks and shades, Fit haunts of Gods?" --Milton.
Mr. Dinsmore was, in the main, a kind-hearted man, therefore felta good deal uncomfortable in prospect of the grief likely to bemanifested by the four or five hundred negroes belonging to theplantation, and particularly the house-servants, when called upon topart with little Elsie.
Both Mrs. Murray and Mildred had spoken to him of their strongattachment to the child, and his own observation had told him thesame thing. He knew that they almost idolized her, and would feel herremoval as a heavy blow. Desirous to lighten the stroke, he determinedto allow Elsie to make a farewell present to each, and engaged Mildredand Mrs. Murray to assist her in preparing a list of suitable articlesto be sent for. The child, knowing nothing of her grandfather'sreasons for permitting this unusual outlay, was highly delighted.
It was Mr. Dinsmore's will that his plans with regard to Elsie shouldbe kept secret from her and the servants until near the end of hisvisit, still some weeks distant.
Those weeks flew fast to Mildred, spent in a round of innocent, restfulenjoyments, marred only by the knowledge that they must be so fleeting.
The day set for the departure from Viamede was drawing near when thesight of some of the needful preparations revealed the truth to thehouse-servants, and from them the sad tidings quickly spread to thefield-hands, causing great grief and consternation.
Elsie was perhaps the last to learn the truth. She was running throughthe lower hall one morning soon after breakfast, when Aunt Phillissuddenly caught her in her arms, and holding her tight, covered thelittle fair face with kisses and tears.
"Why, Aunt Phillis, what's the matter?" asked the child, winding hersmall arms, so plump and white, about the woman's neck; "what makes youcry? is you sick?"
"O, honey, darlin'," sobbed the disconsolate creature, "it's heap wusdan dat! Dey's gwine to carry you 'way, bressed darlin' pet 'way offNorf, where Aunt Phillis won't neber see yo' sweet face no mo'. Oh,dear! oh, dear!"
"No, no!" cried the child, struggling to release herself. "Elsie's notgoin' 'way, Aunt Phillis. Where's mammy? I want mammy!"
Aunt Chloe came at the call, and Elsie ran into her arms, crying ina frightened way "Mammy, mammy, is dey going to take me 'way? Mammy,don't let dem!"
"Darlin', your ole mammy neber leave you!" Aunt Chloe said soothingly,evading the question she could not answer as she wished.
"Elsie doesn't want to go 'way!" sobbed the child. "Dis is Elsie'shome, dis is Elsie's house. Elsie wants to stay here wis Aunt Phillisand all Elsie's people! O, mammy, mammy, does Elsie have to go?"
"Don't cry, honey, don't, darlin' pet; you won't have to go 'way frommammy; mammy 'll go 'long, too," was all Aunt Chloe could say.
The house-servants were crowding around them, all weeping and wailing,and the little girl seemed quite inconsolable.
Mildred heard and came to the rescue.
"Darling child," she said, kneeling on the carpet by Elsie's side, andsoftly stroking the beautiful hair, "you are going to your papa's home;and perhaps you will see him there before long; and I think you willcome back to Viamede some day."
At that the little head was lifted, and a smile broke like a sunbeamthrough the rain of tears.
"Papa!" she exclaimed, "will Elsie see her dear papa dere? Den I won'tcry any more!" and she wiped away her tears. "Don't cry, Aunt Phillisand Aunt Sally, and de rest of you; my papa will bring me back again."
"Dat be a long time off!" muttered Aunt Phillis, shaking her head asshe moved slowly away.
"Roselands, your grandpa's and papa's home, is a very pretty place,"Mildred went on, still caressing the shining curls, "and there arelittle boys and girls there that Elsie can play with."
"Brothers and sisters for me?" asked the little one joyously.
"Your papa's brothers and sisters, nice playfellows for you," Mildredanswered. "There is Enna, who is just a baby girl, only two years old."
"I's four, I's big girl," put in the child.
"Yes; and Walter is past three, nearly as old as you; and what niceplays you can have together."
"Yes, I want to take him a present; and one for the baby, and--what'sdere names? de other children?"
Mildred went over the list, and the baby girl repeated her wish to takea gift to each.
"We will ask your grandpa about it," Mildred said.
"Has dey dot a mamma?" was the next query; and that being answeredin the affirmative, the wish was expressed that she, too, should beremembered with a pretty present, and that Cousin Milly would askgrandpa's permission for all these purchases.
Mildred took an early opportunity to do so.
"Who has put that nonsense into the child's head?" he asked in somevexation.
"No one, uncle; it was entirely her own idea; perhaps suggested by thethought of her proposed gifts to those she leaves behind."
"Very likely; but let her forget it. I do not want to encourage herspending money upon my family."
"But her heart is very full of it, uncle, and I really think it wouldhelp to reconcile her to leaving Viamede. I'm afraid, uncle, that isgoing to be a hard trial for the little creature; for she dearly lovesher home, and her people, as she calls the negroes."
"She will soon forget it all, and perhaps like Roselands quite as well.Childish griefs are not lasting."
"But terribly hard while they do last, uncle. I am not so old yet as tohave forgotton that."
"No?" he said with a smile, followed by a sigh. "Ah, well, I'm sorryfor the little thing, but don't see how it can be helped."
"But you will lessen the trial by humoring her in this and everythingelse that is reasonable?" persisted Mildred, in her most persuasivetone.
"Well, well, if I must, I must, I suppose! What an excellent advocateyou are. But really I feel ashamed to allow it."
"Ah, uncle, it's your turn now," said Mildred, laughing. "I had mine inPhiladelphia. But isn't Elsie rich enough to be allowed to spend suchan amount on her own gratification?"
"Humph! what amount, pray? Ah, I have you there?" he added, laughing ather perplexed look.
"Not so fast, uncle!" she returned, brightening. "I can be definite.May she spend two hundred dollars for this?"
"No."
"One hundred and fifty, then?"
"H'm! I don't know: we'll see about it when we get to New Orleans."
"Then I may tell her that she is to be allowed to buy presents forthem?"
"Yes. Now, don't make me commit myself any further."
After this Mildred talked a great deal to the little girl about thechildren at Roselands, the games and romps she would have with them,what should be bought for them, and how pleased they would be with hergifts. Also of all she was likely to see on her journey that would benew and interesting: how nice it was that Mrs. Murray and mammy were togo with her; grandpa, too, and Cousin Milly; and that the dear Saviourand "her own sweet, pretty mamma," would be just as near her there inher new home as at Viamede.
It was thus she tried to tide the darling over the trial that awaitedher in the sundering of the tender ties that bound her to the home ofher early infancy.
Those were April days with the baby girl, from the time of AuntPhillis's unfortunate revelation of what awaited her until the blowfell.
They were to leave in the morning, though not at a very early hour,and at Elsie's request the field-hands were excused from work for thehalf day, and directed to come up to the house soon after the familybreakfast, to say good-bye to their little mistress.
They gathered in a crowd in the rear of the mansion. The familyparty--Mr. Dinsmore, Mildred, Elsie and Mrs. Murray--were assembledupon the back veranda, where stood a table piled with the goods to bedistributed. The little girl sat beside it on her mammy's lap, Mildredand Mrs. Murray near at hand to give their assistance; the overseer,standing on the topmost step, called the roll, and
each, coming forwardin answer to his name, received a gift presented by the child herself,and was allowed to kiss the small white hand that bestowed it.
This was esteemed a great privilege, and many held the hand a moment,dropping tears as well as kisses upon it, and heaping blessings on thehead of the little fair one; pouring out their lamentations, also, overher approaching departure, till at length her tears fell so fast thather grandfather interfered, forbidding any further allusion to thatsubject, on pain of having to receive their gifts from some other hand.
No one was neglected, no one had been forgotten, but each, fromoctogenarian, no longer able or expected to work, down to the babe ofa few days, received a gift of substantial worth to him or her; afterwhich came a liberal distribution of pies, cakes, candies and fruits.
The baby girl dried her tears, and even laughed right merrily more thanonce, as she watched them at their feast. But her grief burst forthafresh, and with redoubled violence, when the time came for the finalparting, and the house-servants gathered, weeping, about her.
She embraced them in turn, again and again, clinging about their necks,crying, "Oh, Elsie can't go 'way and leave you! Elsie must stay wisyou! Elsie loves you! Elsie loves her own dear home, and can't go'way!" while they strained the little form to their hearts with bitterwailing and lamentation.
To Mildred the scene was heart-rending, and her tears fell fast; Mrs.Murray was scarcely less moved; Aunt Chloe was sobbing, and tell-talemoisture stood in Mr. Dinsmore's eyes.
"Come, come," he said at length, speaking somewhat gruffly, to hide hisemotion, "we have had enough of this! there's no use in fretting overwhat cannot be helped. Elsie's father will be bringing her back one ofthese days; so dry your eyes, Aunt Phillis, and all of you. The boat iswaiting, the captain wanting to be off. Are you quite ready, ladies?"
Receiving an answer in the affirmative, "Then let us go on board atonce," he said, and would have taken his little granddaughter in hisarms; but Aunt Phillis begged the privilege of carrying her to thepier. Then with one last, long, clinging embrace, she resigned her toher nurse.
"Dere, honey darlin', dry yo' eyes and don' cry no mo'. Wipe de tearsaway so you can see your home while we's goin' 'long past de orchardand fields," Aunt Chloe said, standing on the deck and lifting thechild high in her arms. "An' look, pet, dere's all de darkies standing'long de sho' to see de boat move off; and dat's de way dey'll standand watch it, when you and ole mammy comes back."
Yes, there they were, gathered in a crowd close to the water's edge,weeping and wailing, Aunt Phillis in the foreground wringing her hands,and with the big tears rolling fast down her cheeks.
The child saw and stretched out her arms to her with a cry of mingledlove and distress; then, as the boat swept onward, turned and buriedher face in her mammy's bosom.
Mildred saw it all through eyes dimmed with tears. "Don't cry,darling!" she whispered to Elsie. "Think about the time when your dearpapa will bring you back. Now lift up your head and look again at yourbeautiful home."
"Will my own papa bring Elsie back and live here wis me?" asked thelittle one, lifting her head as she was bidden, and smiling through hertears, as she gazed out over the lovely landscape.
"I hope so," Mildred said. "And you mustn't forget what a nice timewe're going to have in New Orleans, buying the pretty things for thechildren at Roselands."
That was a wise suggestion, very helpful in cheering the sorrowful babyheart. In the discussion of the momentous and interesting questionswhat those gifts should be, and in what sort of places they would befound, she presently grew quite cheerful and animated.
A wonderful new world opened upon the baby eyes as they neared thecity. She was filled with eager curiosity and delight, manifested inways so entertaining and winsome, and by questions showing so muchnative wit, that her grandfather's heart warmed toward her. Then,wherever they went he found her attracting so much attention, by reasonof her beauty, sweetness and intelligence, that he grew proud of her inspite of himself.
Mildred at Roselands Page 24
