Grandmother Elsie

by Martha Finley

  Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Emmy and the Online DistributedProofreading Team.

  GRANDMOTHER ELSIE

  A SEQUEL TO"ELSIE'S WIDOWHOOD"

  By MARTHA FINLEY

  COMPLETE AUTHORIZED EDITION

  "The web of our life is of a mingled yarn,good and ill together."--Shakespeare

  Published by arrangement withDodd, Mead and Company

  A.L. BURT COMPANY

  _PUBLISHERS_

  New York Chicago

  1882,BYDODD, MEAD & COMPANY

  1910,BYCHARLES B. FINLEY

  GRANDMOTHER ELSIE

  CHAPTER I.

  "Every state, Allotted to the race of man below, Is in proportion, doom'd to taste some sorrow." --_Rowe_.

  The Ion family were at home again after their summer on the New Jerseycoast.

  It was a delightful morning early in October: the dew-drops on the stillgreen grass of the neatly kept lawn sparkled in the rays of the newlyrisen sun; the bright waters of the lakelet also, as, ruffled by thebreeze, they broke gently about the prow of the pretty row-boat moored tothe little wharf; the gardens were gay with bright-hued flowers, the treesgorgeous in their autumnal dress.

  But though doors and windows were open, the gardener and his assistants atwork in the grounds, there seemed a strange quiet about the place: whenthe men spoke to each other it was in subdued tones; there was nosound--as in other days--of little feet running hither and thither, norof childish prattle or laughter.

  Two horses stood ready saddled and bridled before the principal entranceto the mansion, and Mr. Horace Dinsmore was pacing the veranda to and frowith slow, meditative step, while Bruno, crouching beside the door,followed his movements with wistful, questioning eyes, doubtless wonderingwhat had become of his accustomed merry, romping play-mates.

  A light step came down the hall, and a lady in riding hat and habitstepped from the open doorway, stooped for an instant to touch the dog'shead caressingly with a "Poor Bruno! do you miss your playfellows?" thenglided quickly toward Mr. Dinsmore, who received her with open arms andtenderest caress.

  Then holding her off and scrutinizing the sweet, fair face with keen,searching eye, "You are looking better and brighter than I dared to hope,my darling," he said. "Did you get some sleep?"

  "Yes, papa, thank you, several hours. And you? did you rest well?"

  "Yes, daughter. How are the children?"

  "No worse, Arthur says; perhaps a trifle better. He, Elsie and Mammy arewith them now, and 'Mamma' can be spared for a short ride with herfather," she said, smiling lovingly into the eyes that were gazing withthe tenderest fatherly affection upon her.

  "That is right; you need the air and exercise sorely; a few more days ofsuch close confinement and assiduous nursing would, I very much fear, tellseriously upon your health."

  He led her to the side of her steed and assisted her into the saddle as hespoke, then vaulted into his own with the agility of youth.

  "But where are Vi and her brothers?" Elsie asked, sending an inquiringglance from side to side.

  "I sent them on in advance. I wanted you quite to myself this once," heanswered, as they turned and rode at a brisk canter down the avenue.

  "And I shall enjoy having my dear father all to myself for once," sherejoined, with a touch of old-time gayety in look and tone. "Ah! papa,never a day passes, I think I might almost say never an hour, in which Ido not thank God for sparing you to me; you who have loved and cherishedme so long and so tenderly."

  "My own dear child!" he said in reply, "you and your love are among thegreatest blessings of my life."

  As they rode on side by side they talked of the youngest two of herchildren--Rose and Walter--both quite ill with measles; of her sister'sfamily, where also there was sickness among the little ones, and whitherMrs. Dinsmore had gone to assist in the nursing of her grandchildren; ofthe recent death of Enna at Magnolia Hall, the home of her daughter Molly;and of the anxiety of the younger Elsie because of a much longer silencethan usual on the part of her absent betrothed.

  She greatly feared that some evil had befallen him, and had not been ableto hide her distress from these two--the mother and grandfather who lovedher so--though making most earnest, unselfish efforts to conceal it fromall, especially her mother, whose tender heart was ever ready to bleed foranother's woe, and who had already griefs and anxieties enough of her own.

  They spoke of her with tenderest compassion, and affectionate pride in herloveliness of person and character, and her brave endurance of her trial.

  Enna's death could hardly be felt as a personal loss by either, but theysympathized deeply in the grief of her old father, with whom her faultsseemed to be buried in her grave, while he cherished a lively remembranceof all that had ever given him pleasure in her looks, words, or ways.

  He was growing old and feeble, and felt this, the death of his youngestchild, a very heavy blow.

  "My poor old father! I fear we shall not have him with us much longer,"Mr. Dinsmore remarked with emotion.

  Elsie's eyes glistened with unshed tears. "Dear old grandpa!" shemurmured. "But, dear papa, be comforted! he may live for years yet, andshould it please God to take him, we know that our loss will be hisinfinite gain."

  "Yes; would that we had the same assurance in regard to all his childrenand grandchildren."

  Silence fell between them for some minutes.

  Elsie knew that her father, when making that last remark, was thinkingmore particularly of his half sister, Mrs. Conly, and her daughterVirginia.

  The two had gone to a fashionable watering-place to spend the lastfortnight of their summer's sojourn at the North, and ere it expiredVirginia had contracted a hasty marriage with a man of reputed wealth,whom she met there for the first time.

  The match was made with the full consent and approval of her mother--who,on rejoining the Dinsmores and Travillas, boasted much of "Virginia'sbrilliant position and prospects"--but without the knowledge of any otherrelative. No opportunity of making inquiries about the character or realcircumstances of the stranger to whom she committed the happiness of herlife, was afforded by Virginia to grandfather, uncle or brothers.

  Of late Mrs. Conly had ceased to boast of the match--scarcely mentionedVirginia's name; and Mr. Dinsmore had learned from Calhoun and Arthur thatVirginia's letters were no longer shown to any one, and seemed to irritateand depress their mother so unmistakably that they feared more and morethere was something very much amiss with their sister; yet the mothersteadily evaded all inquiries on the subject.

  Mr. Dinsmore presently told all this to his daughter, adding that he verymuch feared Virginia had made an utter wreck of her earthly happiness.

  "Poor Virgie!" sighed Elsie. "Ah! if only she had been blest with such afather as mine!" turning upon him a look of grateful love.

  "Or such a mother as my granddaughters have," added Mr. Dinsmore, smilinginto the soft, sweet eyes.

  "What blessings my darlings are! how good and lovable in spite of myfailures in right training and example," she said in sincere humility.

  "Those failures and mistakes have been very few, I think," was his reply;"you have tried very earnestly and prayerfully to train them up in the waythey should go. And God is faithful to his promises--your children do notdepart from the right way; they do arise and call you blessed."

  "Papa," she said, in moved tones, after a moment's silence, "we must notforget how much is due to the training, the example, and the prayers oftheir father."

  "No, daughter; and we can always plead in their behalf the preciouspromises to the seed of the righteous. 'I will pour my Spirit upon thyseed, and my blessing upon thine offspring.' 'A good man leaveth aninheritance to his children's children.'
"

  "Yes, father, how often have those promises been my comfort and support asthe inheritance of both my children and myself; inherited by me from bothyou and my sainted mother and her pious ancestors."

  "And from mine; for my mother was a devoted Christian and came of a longline of God-fearing men and women. But I see nothing yet of Edward and hisparty; they must have taken another road."

  "Yes, sir; and shall we not turn now? I ought not to be long away from mypoor sick darlings."

  "I think it would be well to return by the other road; we shall reach itin a moment, and our ride will be lengthened by but a half mile or so."

  She acquiesced in his decision, as was her custom.

  On the homeward way, as they neared the cross-road leading to the city,they saw a boy on horseback coming at a hard gallop down it in theirdirection.

  On catching sight of them he held aloft what looked like a letter, wavingit about his head in evident desire to attract their attention; then as hereached their road he halted and waited for them to come up.

  "Mr. Dinsmore, from the Oaks or Ion, isn't it?" he queried, lifting hiscap and bowing to the lady and her escort as they reined in their steedsclose at hand.

  "Yes."

  "A telegram for you, sir."

  Mr. Dinsmore took the missive, tore it open and glanced at the contents,then, handing it to Elsie, paid the boy and dismissed him.

  "Oh, my poor darling!" she exclaimed, her tears dropping upon the paper."Father, what shall we do? tell her at once? Perhaps that would be best."

  "Yes; I think it is her right. But of course it must be done as gently aspossible. Dear daughter, do not grieve too sorely for her; try to trusther as well as yourself in your heavenly Father's hands."

  "I will, papa, I will! but oh my heart bleeds for her!"

  "Will you break the news to her? or shall I?"

  "My kindest of fathers! you would if possible spare me every trial, bearall my burdens. But perhaps the dear child may suffer less in hearing thesad news from her mother's lips, as, in her place, I could bear it betterfrom yours than from any other."

  "Unselfish as ever, my darling," he said, "but I believe you areright--that the blow will be somewhat softened to Elsie coming to herthrough the medium of her tender and dearly loved mother."

  "I think, papa," Mrs. Travilla said, checking her horse to a walk as theyentered the avenue at Ion, "I shall reserve my communication until my poorchild has had her breakfast."

  He expressed approval of her decision, adding interrogatively, "You willbreakfast with the family this morning?"

  "Yes, sir; if I find all going well in the sick-room."

  A servant was in waiting to lead the horses away to the stable. Violet,Edward, Harold and Herbert, just returned from their ride, were on theveranda.

  Edward hastened to assist his mother to alight, and all gathered about herand their grandfather with morning greetings spoken in cheerful butsubdued tones; no one forgetting for a moment the illness of the littlepet brother and sister, but all inquiring anxiously how they and "Mamma"had passed the night, and what was cousin Arthur's report of theircondition this morning.

  "No worse, my dears; and we will hope that they may soon be decidedlybetter," the mother answered, returning their greetings with affectionatewarmth and smiling sweetly upon them. "But you must let me go at once tothe sick-room, and if all is well I shall be down presently to breakfastwith grandpa and you."

  That announcement was heard with the greater pleasure because her lovedface had seldom been seen at the table for some days past.

  The face was bright and hopeful as she spoke, but an unwonted expressionof sadness and anxiety came over it as she turned quickly away and wentswiftly through the spacious entrance hall and up the broad stairway.

  No earthly eye saw that look, but the traces of tears on her mother'scheeks had not escaped Vi's keen observation.

  "Grandpa," she said in low, tremulous tones, following him into thelibrary, whither he went to await the summons to breakfast, "what hasbeen distressing mamma so? is it that she is so anxious about Elsie andWalter? May I not know?"

  Mr. Dinsmore paused a moment before he replied. "You shall know all aboutit, my dear child, before very long. Be satisfied for the present with theassurance that your mother's distress is for another's woe. You know whata tender, sympathetic heart she has. I cannot deny that our little onesare seriously ill, but their case is very far from hopeless."