CHAPTER III.
"We all do fade as a leaf." (Is. lxiv. 6.)
A fortnight had passed since the day of the reader's introduction to thedwellers in Crag Cottage; the June roses were blooming about it in evenricher profusion than before; tree, and shrub and vine were laden withdenser foliage; the place looked a very bower of beauty to the eyes ofLester and his Elsie as the hack which had brought them from the neareststeamboat-landing slowly wound its way up the hill on which the cottagestood.
On the vine-covered porch Eric lay in a hammock, his little daughter, asusual, by his side.
Though losing flesh and strength day by day, he still persevered with hiswork; had spent some hours over it this morning, but was resting now, hischeek fanned by the pure, sweet air from the mountain and river, his eyesnow feasting upon the beauties of the surrounding scenery, and anonturning with fond, fatherly affection upon the face of the child he lovedso well.
She was proving herself an excellent nurse for one of her age; neverweary of waiting upon her loved patient, always striving to anticipatehis every want, and doing her best to entertain him and make him forgethis pain.
She was talking of their expected guests.
"I am so glad they are coming, papa," she said, "for I hope it will cheeryou and do you much good to see your brother."
"And sister," he added with a faint smile; "your Aunt Elsie is a verylovely and interesting woman."
"Yes, but I hope they will let me have my father to myself sometimes,"she said, laying her cheek lovingly against the hand that was claspinghers. "I'm hardly willing to share you even with Uncle Lester."
"No, not all the time," he responded; "we must have an hour alonetogether now and then. I should not like to be deprived of it any morethan you."
She had lifted her head, and was gazing toward the river. "Papa, I thinkthey are here!" she exclaimed. "There is a carriage coming up the drive."
"Ah, I hope so," he said, his pale cheek flushing with pleasure; andexcitement lending him momentary strength, he hastily stepped from thehammock, and with Evelyn went forward to greet and welcome the travellersas they alighted, the hack having now drawn up before the entrance.
Both Lester and Elsie were much moved at sight of their brother--so sadlychanged from the vigorous man from whom they parted less than a yearbefore.
Elsie had much ado to hide her emotion, and even Lester's voice was huskyand tremulous as he returned Eric's greeting and made inquiries regardinghis health.
"It is much the same as when I wrote you," Eric answered, holding fast tohis brother's hand, and gazing with a look of strong affection into hisface. "And you are quite well?"
"Quite, thank you; but about yourself, Eric? Would it not be well to haveother advice?"
"I believe there is none better than I have had, brother," Eric said.Then turning to caress the little one in its nurse's arms, "What a finelittle fellow! a truly beautiful child, Sister Elsie. Ah, Lester Irejoice that you have a son to keep up the family name. May he live to bea great blessing to you both!"
"How sweet and pretty he is!" Evelyn said, caressing him in her turn."Aunt Elsie, shall I show you to your room?"
"If you please, dear." And they passed on into the house together, whileEric dropped exhausted into an easy-chair, and Lester took possession ofanother close at his side.
"You are very weak, Eric," he remarked, in a tone of mingled affectionand concern; "and I fear suffer a great deal of pain."
"Yes, a good deal at times; but," he added with a joyous smile, "I shallsoon be in that land where there shall be no more pain, and theinhabitants shall not say 'I am sick.'"
"Don't speak of it," said Lester hoarsely; "I must hope there are yetyears of life in this world before you."
"What a very pleasant room; what a delightful prospect from that windowlooking toward the river!" Elsie exclaimed, as Evelyn led the way intothe spacious, airy apartment set apart for the occupation of herself andhusband during their stay.
"I think it is," Evelyn returned in a quiet tone; "that was the reasonpapa and I selected it for you. We have two other spare rooms, but thisis the largest and has the loveliest views from its windows."
"Thank you, dear. Is your mamma well?"
"I suppose so; she was when we heard last, a day or two ago. She is atNewport, Aunt Elsie; she found herself so worn out, she said, withattending to the claims of society, that a trip to the seashore was quitea necessity. Do you put the claims of society before everything else,Aunt Elsie?"
"Indeed no," returned Elsie, with a happy laugh. "I'm afraid I put themlast on my list: husband, baby, mother, grandpa, brothers and sisters,all come before society with me."
"So they shall with me when I'm a woman," said Evelyn with decision; "andpapa shall always, _always_ be first. I don't know how mamma can bear tobe away from him so much; especially now when he is so weak and ailing.And I am quite mortified that she is not here to welcome you. She saidshe would be back in time, but now writes that she finds Newport sodelightful, and the sea-breezes doing her so much good, that she can'ttear herself away just yet."
"Well, dear, as she is your mother and my sister, we will try not tocriticise or find fault with her," responded Elsie, in a gently soothingtone.
"No; I ought not," acknowledged Evelyn; "papa never does; at least not tome. Mamma said she thought we could entertain you for a short time, andwe mean to do our best."
"Yes, dear child; but we must not allow your father to exert himself tothat end; we did not come to be entertained, but to try to be of use tohim."
"It was very kind," said Evelyn, gratefully; "it must have been quite asacrifice, for you to leave that beautiful Nantucket so soon afterarriving there; I know about it, because we were there two summers ago,and I could hardly bear to come away."
"It is very pleasant there, but so it is here also," responded Elsie.
Evelyn looked much pleased. "I am glad you like it, Aunt Elsie," shesaid. "_I_ think it the dearest spot on earth; but then it has alwaysbeen my home."
"You are justly partial to it, Evelyn," Elsie said, "for it is a sweetspot."
"Thank you. Our dinner will be ready in about an hour from now; but don'ttake the trouble to dress, there will be no one but ourselves," Evelynsaid, retiring.
Elsie was not sorry to learn that her sister-in-law was absent from home;for though neither really disliked the other, they were not congenial;their opinions, their tastes, their views of life, its pleasures and itsduties, were so widely different that they could have but little incommon.
A proud, self-important woman would have taken offence at the lack ofhospitality and consideration shown her in the failure of the mistress ofthe house to be present with a welcome on her arrival, but such was notElsie's character. She had but a humble opinion of her own importance andher own deserts, so very readily excused and overlooked the neglect.
But his wife's conduct was very mortifying to Eric, as he showed in hisapology for her, on Elsie's rejoining him and Lester on the porch.
Elsie accepted his excuses very sweetly, assuring him that she expectedto find much enjoyment in his society, her husband's, and Evelyn's, andwould have been very sorry had Laura returned home for her sake beforeher visit to Newport was completed.
Evelyn, too, felt much chagrin on account of the lack of courtesy andhospitality in her mother's behavior toward these relatives, esteemed byherself and her father as worthy of all honor. She made no remark aboutit to either of them, but tried very earnestly to fill her mother's placeas hostess during her absence.
She was a very womanly little girl, with a quaint, old-fashioned mannerwhich Elsie thought quite charming. It was touching to see the devotedaffection with which she hovered over and waited upon her sick father.She was seldom absent from his side for more than a few minutes at atime, except when he sent her out for air and exercise.
Elsie usually accompanied her on her walks and drives, while Lesterremained with his brother.
Eric seized these o
pportunities to open his heart to Lester in regard tothe future of his only and beloved child, his one great anxiety in theprospect of death.
"I cannot leave her to her mother's care," he said, with a sigh and alook of anguish. "It is a sad, a humiliating thing to say in regard toone's wife, but I have been sorely disappointed in my choice of a partnerfor life.
"We married for love, and she is very dear to me still, but our tastesand views are widely dissimilar. She has no relish for the quietpleasures of home, finds the duties of a wife and mother extremelyirksome, and is not content unless living in a constant whirl ofexcitement, a never-ending round of pleasure-parties, balls, concerts,and other fashionable amusements.
"I cannot join her in it; and so, for years past, we have gone ourseparate ways.
"Evelyn, her mother having no time to bestow upon her, has been leftalmost entirely to me, and I have earnestly striven to train her up to anoble Christian womanhood; to cultivate her mind and heart, and give hera taste for far higher pleasures than those to be found in the giddywhirl of fashionable follies.
"I think I have already succeeded to some extent; but she is so youngthat, of course, much of the work yet remains to be done; and Laura isnot the person to carry it on; also, I think, would not covet the task.
"Lester, if you will undertake her guardianship and receive her into yourfamily, to be brought up under the influence of your lovely wife andmother-in-law, I shall die happy. Would it be asking too much, my dearbrother?"
"You could not ask too much of me, Eric," Lester said with emotion; "andif my Elsie is willing, it shall be as you wish."
Eric expressed his thanks, and his hope that Elsie would not object.
"My darling will not be a troublesome charge," he said; "she has herfaults, of course, but they are not of a kind to make her a disagreeableinmate of your family; and her admiration for her Aunt Elsie is so greatthat, doubtless, she will yield readily to her wishes and study to belike her in her loveliness of character and manners."
"Yes; Evelyn is a child any father might be proud of," assented Lester."Surely her mother cannot help being fond of her, and you would notseparate them, Eric?"
Eric looked much disturbed. For a moment he seemed lost in thought; thensaid, "I cannot tell just what Laura will do; she certainly must havesome affection for our child, but not enough, I fear, to make her willingto resign any pleasure for her sake. I think she will not care for asettled home when I am gone, but will spend her time in flitting aboutfrom one fashionable resort to another; and in that case Evelyn would beonly a burden and care to her: one she will probably be glad to get ridof. I see plainly that it could be for neither your happiness nor Laura'sto attempt to live together; but perhaps you would be willing to receiveher as a guest occasionally, and for a short time?"
"Certainly," Lester said; "and to assist her pecuniarily, if necessary."
"Thank you for the generous offer," returned Eric, gratefully; "but therewill be no need to trespass upon your kindness in that way. Laura hassome money of her own, and her proportion of mine will make her verycomfortable; while the remainder will be sufficient to clothe and educateEvelyn, and give her a moderate income afterward for the rest of herlife, if it is not lost in any way; and that she will not be robbed of itin her minority I feel certain, having been so fortunate as to secure youfor my executor," he added, with an affectionate glance and smile.
"I shall certainly do the best I can to take care of it for her," Lestersaid, his voice a little unsteady with the thought that these were hisbrother's dying wishes to which he was listening; "but I am not abusiness man, and--"
"I am quite willing to trust to your good sense, honesty, and love foryour niece," interrupted Eric, hearing the approaching footsteps of Elsieand his daughter.
Evelyn's wish that she might sometimes have her father to herself wasgratified. Lester and Elsie were thoroughly considerate, and almost everyday went out together for an hour or more, leaving the little girl toperform the duties of nurse.
Then there was an interchange of confidences and endearments such as wasnot indulged in the presence of any third person, and Eric improved theoccasion to give his darling much tender and wise fatherly counsel whichhe thought might be of use to her in the coming years when he would nolonger be at her side.
He did not tell her of the trial that was drawing so near--the partingthat would rend her heart--but she more than half suspected it, as shesaw him day by day grow weaker, paler, and thinner.
But the very idea was so terrible that she put it resolutely from her,and thought and talked hopefully of the time when he would be well again.
And he could not bear to crush the hope that made her so bright andhappy; but he spoke often to her of the blessedness of those who sleep inJesus, and made her read to him the passage of Scripture which tells ofthe glories and bliss of heaven--of the inheritance of the saints inlight--the things which "eye hath not seen nor ear heard, neither theheart of man conceived"--the things that God hath prepared for them thatlove him, for them "who have washed their robes and made them white inthe blood of the Lamb."
The Two Elsies Page 3
