Elsie's Widowhood

by Martha Finley

  CHAPTER XVIII.

  "The sea! the sea! the open sea! The blue, the fresh, the ever free!" --_Proctor._

  The summer vacation brought Edward Travilla home just in time for hiscousin Isa's wedding. He had grown so manly and so like his father inappearance that at sight of him his mother was much overcome.

  His first, his warmest, tenderest greeting was for her. He held her tohis heart, his own too full for speech, while she wept upon hisshoulder.

  But only for a moment; lifting her head, she gazed long and searchinglyinto his face, then, with a sigh of relief, "Thank God," she whispered,"that I can believe my boy has come back to me as pure and innocent ashe went!"

  "I hope so, mother; your love, your teachings and my father's have beenmy safeguard in many an hour of temptation," he answered with emotion.

  "Did you not seek help from above, my son?" she asked gently.

  "Yes, mother; you had taught me to do so, and I knew that you, too, weredaily seeking it for me."

  "Yes, my dear boy; I think there was scarce a waking hour in which I didnot ask a blessing on my absent son."

  The mother dried her tears; grandparents, brothers and sisters drew nearand embraced the lad, servants shook him by the hand, and Ion was filledwith rejoicing as never before since the removal of its master and head.

  Tongues ran nimbly as they sat about the tea-table and on the verandaafterward; so much had happened to the young collegian, so many changeshad taken place in the family connection since he went away, that therewas a great deal to tell and to hear on both sides.

  The voices were blithe, and there was many a silvery peal of laughtermingled with the pleasant, cheery talk.

  Isa's and Molly's matches were discussed in a most kindly way, forEdward was quite curious to hear all about them and the preparations forthe approaching wedding.

  Cyril had arrived earlier in the day, was taking tea at Roselands, butwould pass the night at Ion, which Edward was glad to hear, as he wishedto make his acquaintance.

  A summer at the sea-shore had been decided upon some weeks ago, andEdward, to his great gratification, had been empowered to select acottage for the family to occupy during the season, his Aunt Adelaideand her husband assisting him with their advice.

  He announced with much satisfaction that he had secured one that hethought would accommodate them well--several guests in addition, ifmamma cared to invite any of her friends--and please every one.

  "It is large, convenient, well--even handsomely furnished--and but a fewyards from the shore," he said. "The country is pretty about there,too--pleasant walks and drives through green lanes, fields and woods."

  "But where is it, Edward?" asked Violet.

  "Not far from Long Branch; and there are some half-dozen other sea-sideplaces within easy driving distance."

  There were exclamations of delight and impatience to be there from theyounger ones, while the mother covered up with a smile and a few wordsof commendation to Edward the pain in her heart at the thought that herbest beloved would not be with his wife and children beside the sea thissummer, as in former years.

  Her father and Rose were thinking of that, too, with deep sympathy forher.

  In a moment the same thought presented itself to Edward and Violet, andthey drew closer to their mother with loving, caressing looks and words.But memories of Lester, and their walks and talks together when last shewas at the sea-shore, were filling the mind of the younger Elsie withemotions, half of pleasure, half of pain. When should they meet again?Then the sudden silence that had fallen upon the group about her mother,and a glance at that loved mother's face, reminded her also of thefather who would return no more, and whose companionship had been sodear a delight to her and to them all.

  It was Rosie who broke the silence at length; "Mamma, can we not gopretty soon?"

  "Yes, daughter, in about a week."

  The journey was made without accident, the cottage and its vicinityfound to be all that Edward had represented.

  They had brought some of their own servants with them, and had nothingto do with hotel or boarding-house life. Elsie had always loved thequiet and seclusion of home, and clung to it now, more than ever; yetfor her children's sake she would not shut out society entirely; bothEdward and his sisters were free to invite their young friends topartake of the hospitalities of their mother's house, but without noiseor revelry, for which indeed, they themselves had no heart.

  For a while the society of his mother and sisters was quite sufficientfor Edward and his for them--they were all so strongly attached to eachother and he had been so long away from home that it was very delightfulto be together once more.

  Mr. and Mrs. Dinsmore were at that time visiting relatives inPhiladelphia and its vicinity, and his grandfather's absence gave Edwardthe long coveted opportunity to try how nearly he could fill hisfather's place as his mother's earthly prop. It was a dear delight tohave her lean upon his arm, rely upon his strength, consult him aboutbusiness or family matters.

  He was very proud and fond of his lovely sisters; prouder and fonderstill of his sweet and beautiful mother. He quite longed to show her toall his college friends, yet would not for the world have her griefintruded upon by them with their thoughtless gayety.

  During these weeks that they were entirely alone she gave herself upwholly to her children, seeking to secure to them the greatest possibleamount of innocent enjoyment. No tasks were set, there was no attempt atregular employment, and almost the whole day was spent in the open air;together they sported in the surf, strolled on the beach, or sat in thesand revelling in the delicious sea breeze and the sight of the everrestless, ever changing, beautiful ocean, with its rolling, tumbling,dashing waves. They were there early in the morning, sometimes in seasonto watch the sun rise out of the water; and often again when the silverymoonlight lent its witchery to the scene.

  But there came a day when the rain poured down so continuously andheavily that they were glad to take refuge from it in the house.

  They gathered in a room overlooking the sea, the ladies with their fancywork, Rosie with her doll, while Harold and Herbert helped little Walterto build block houses, and Edward read aloud a story selected by themother, as entertaining and at the same time pure and wholesome.

  She was careful in choosing their mental food; she would no sooner havesuffered her children's minds to be poisoned than their bodies.

  As Edward closed the book upon the completion of the story, "Mamma,"said the younger Elsie, "do you quite approve of all the teachings theauthor has given there? or perhaps I should rather say the sentimentsshe has expressed."

  "Not quite, but what is it you do not approve?" the mother answered withan affectionate and pleased look at the earnest face of the questioner."I am glad to see that you are not ready to be carried about with everywind of doctrine."

  "It is her comment upon her heroine's effort to escape from her troubleby asking help from God. She speaks as if, had the girl been older andwiser, she would have known that God had the welfare and happiness ofother people to consult as well as hers, and couldn't be expected tosacrifice them for her sake."

  "Well, daughter?"

  "It seems to me to show a very low estimate of God's power and wisdom.Since he is infinite in both, can he not so order events as to securethe best good to all his creatures?"

  "Yes, my child, I am sure he can, and we need never fear that he is notable and willing to help his people in every time of trouble. 'The nameof the Lord is a strong tower: the righteous runneth into it, and issafe.' 'The righteous cry, and the Lord heareth, and delivereth themout of all their troubles.' He does not always answer just as wedesire, it is true, but often in a better way, for we, in our follyand short-sightedness, sometimes ask what would prove in the end acurse instead of a blessing."

  "Mamma, how happy we should be if we had perfect faith and trust," saidViolet.

  "Yes; if we fully believed the inspired assurance, 'We know tha
t allthings work together for good to them that love God,' we should not fretor grieve over losses, crosses or disappointments. Strive after suchfaith, my children, and pray constantly for it, for it is the gift ofGod."

  There was a little pause, broken only by Walter's prattle, the plash ofthe rain and the murmur of the sea.

  Edward seemed in deep thought. Taking a low seat at his mother's knee,"Mamma," he said, "I want to have a talk with you, and perhaps this isas good a time as any."

  "Well, my dear boy, what is it?"

  "Do you think, mamma, that I ought to go into the ministry?"

  "My son," she said, looking at him in some surprise, "that is not aquestion to be decided in a moment, or without asking God's guidance."

  "You would be willing, mother?"

  "More than willing--glad and thankful--if I saw reason to believe thatyou were called of God to that work. To be truly an ambassador of Christis, in my esteem, to stand higher than any of earth's potentates, yet ifyour talents do not lie in that direction I would not have you there. Itis every man's duty to serve God to the utmost of his ability, but allare not called to the ministry; some can do far better service in otherwalks of life, and I should prefer to have a son of mine a goodcarpenter, mason or shoemaker, rather than a poor preacher."

  "You do not mean poor in purse, mamma?" queried Harold, joining thelittle group.

  "No; a poor sermonizer--one lacking the requisite talents, diligence orpiety to proclaim God's truth with faithfulness and power."

  "How can one tell to what work he is called, mamma?" Edward asked, withan anxious, perplexed look.

  "By watching the leadings of God's providence and by earnest prayer forhis direction. Also I think if a lad has a decided bias for any oneprofession or employment it is a pretty sure indication that that iswhat he is called to; for we can almost always do best what we mostenjoy doing."

  "Then I think I should study medicine," said Harold, "for I should verygreatly prefer that to anything else. And don't you think, mamma, that adoctor may do really as much good as a minister?"

  "Quite as much if he be a devoted, earnest Christian, ready to do goodas he has opportunity: therefore I entirely approve your choice."

  "Thank you, mamma. So I consider it quite settled," Harold returned witha look of great satisfaction. "Now, Ed and Herbie, what will you be?"

  "As Herbert never likes to be separated from you, I presume he too willchoose medicine," the mother remarked, with a smiling glance at herthird son, as he too came and stood at her side.

  "I don't know, mamma; it seems to me doctors have a dreadfully hardlife."

  "Ah! I fancy a life of elegant leisure would suit you best, my laddie,"laughed his eldest brother.

  But the mother's look was grave and a little anxious.

  Herbert saw it. "Don't be troubled about me, mamma dear," he said,putting his arms round her neck and gazing lovingly into her eyes. "I domean to fight against my natural laziness. But do you think I ought tochoose so very hard a life as Harold means to?"

  "Not if you have talent for something useful which would better suityour inclinations. Can you think of any such thing?"

  "Couldn't I be a lawyer?"

  "You could never rise to eminence in that profession without a greatdeal of hard work."

  "An author then?"

  "The same answer will fit again," his mother returned with a slightsmile. "Has not your Cousin Molly worked very hard for a number ofyears?"

  Herbert drew a long, deep sigh, then brightening, "I might be apublisher," he said. "I don't suppose they work very hard, and they canhave all the new books to read."

  "Oh, Herbie," said Violet, "think of the great number of letters theymust have to write, and manuscripts to read, beside many other things."

  "No, my boy, you cannot do or be anything worth while without work, anda good deal of it," said his mother. "So I hope you will make it yourearnest, constant prayer that you may have grace to overcome yourbesetting sin of indolence, and to 'be not slothful in business;fervent in spirit; serving the Lord'. The Bible bids us, 'Whatsoever thyhand findeth to do, do it with thy might. Whatsoever ye do, do itheartily, as to the Lord, and not unto men.'"

  "Edward, you have not told us yet what you wish to be," said his sisterElsie.

  "My inclination," he answered in grave, earnest tones, "is to take myfather's place in every way possible, first in the care of my darling,precious mother," taking her hand and lifting it to his lips, "afterthat in cultivating the Ion plantation and making myself a good,upright, useful church-member and citizen."

  "A worthy ambition, my boy," the mother said with emotion; "my strongdesire is that you may follow as closely as possible in the footsteps ofyour honored father. I never knew a better man, in the pulpit or out ofit. His was a truly Christian manhood, and, like his Master, he wentabout doing good."

  "Then, mother, with your approval my choice is made; and with yourpermission I shall spend some time in an agricultural college, afterfinishing the course where I am."

  "You shall do as you wish; you shall have every advantage I can giveyou. My other boys also, if they will improve them."

  "Your girls, too, mamma?" asked Rosie.

  "Yes, indeed," mamma answered, bestowing a smile and a kiss upon theyoung questioner.

  At that moment the tea-bell summoned them to their evening meal. Edwardtook his father's seat at the table, his father's place in asking ablessing upon the food.

  As they left the table they perceived that the rain had ceased; theclouds had broken away from the setting sun, and its red light streamedover the dark waters like a pathway of fire.

  They were all gathered on the porch, watching, as usual, the changingbeauty of the sea and the clouds, when a young man, in the undressuniform of a lieutenant in the army, opened their gate, and came with abrisk, manly step up the walk leading to the house.

  As he drew near, he lifted his military cap, bowed low to the ladies,then, stepping upon the porch, handed a card to Mrs. Travilla.

  "Donald Keith," she read aloud, and holding out her hand with a sweet,welcoming smile, "How do you do, cousin?" she said; "I am very glad tosee you. But to which branch do you belong?"

  "I am a younger brother of the Reverend Cyril Keith, lately married to aMiss Conly," the young officer answered, as he took the offered hand."He wrote me of your great kindness to him, and when I learned, a fewhours since, who were the occupants of this cottage, I felt that I mustcome and thank you. I hope I do not intrude, cousin?"

  "No, indeed; we are always ready to welcome relatives. Now let meintroduce these other cousins--my boys and girls."

  The young man spent the whole evening in the company of these new-foundrelatives, and went away highly delighted with them all.

  He had several weeks' furlough, was staying at a hotel near by, andpromised himself great enjoyment in the society of the dwellers in thecottage.

  And they were pleased with him.

  "He seems a very nice, clever fellow, mother," Edward remarked.

  "Yes," she said, "he has very agreeable manners and talks well; andknowing that he comes of a godly race, I hope we shall find him in allrespects a suitable companion for you and your sisters. I am glad of hiscoming for your sakes, for I fear you may have felt the want of youngsociety."

  "Oh, no, mamma," they all protested, "we could not have enjoyedourselves better. It has been so nice to have you quite to ourselves."