CHAPTER XII.
"Except I be by Silvia in the night, There is no music in the nightingale; Unless I look on Silvia in the day, There is no day for me to look upon." --_Shakspeare_.
It was already past the middle of November when Captain Raymond receivedhis injuries, so that the six weeks or more of enforced inaction wouldcarry him into the month of January.
He had hoped to spend Christmas with his children, but that was nowclearly impossible, as he sadly owned to himself, for he was a lovingfather and felt the disappointment keenly on both his own account andtheirs.
There would be no festivities at Ion this year, bereavement was still toorecent with themselves, too imminent with those very near by the ties ofkindred. But there was to be an exchange of gifts; there had been thateven last year when but a few months had elapsed since the departure tothe better land of the beloved husband and father.
Captain Raymond, sitting quietly in his invalid chair, generally to allappearance buried in a book, overheard many a consultation in regard towhat would be most acceptable to this or that one who happened to beabsent from the room at the moment, for it was intended that most of thegifts, at least, should be a surprise to the recipients.
One day when the talk was of those to be provided for Rosie and Walter,Mrs. Dinsmore noticed that their guest was listening with a veryinterested look.
"Captain Raymond," she said, turning to him with an engaging smile, "wepurpose to go into the city to-morrow to shop for these things; can we doanything in that line for you?"
"Thank you," he said heartily, his face brightening very much; "if itwould not be overtaxing you, I should be very glad indeed to do someshopping by proxy; glad to have the benefit of your and Mrs. Travilla'staste and judgment in the selection of some Christmas presents for mychildren. It will be all I can do for them this year. I had thought ofsending money for the purpose, to the persons in charge of them, but itwould be far more satisfactory to me to have some share in the choice ofthe articles."
Both ladies assured him that it would give them pleasure to do whateverthey could to assist him in making the desired purchases, and Mr.Dinsmore suggested that a variety of goods might be sent out from the citystores for him to select from.
He said that was a good idea, but he would leave it to the ladies to havethat done, or to choose for him a book for each of his children, a dollfor each girl, and writing-desks, fully furnished, for Max and Lulu.
"I think," he added with a smile, "whatever I may give will seem to themmore valuable if sent from this distance than if bought near at hand."
"Yes," Mrs. Dinsmore said, "that is human nature."
The shoppers set out the next morning soon after breakfast, expecting toreturn about the usual dinner-hour.
Watching the departure from the window near which he was seated, thecaptain observed with pleasure that Violet was not of the party, hopingthat if left behind, she would give him the enjoyment of her societyduring the absence of the others.
Presently she came in, bringing some needlework; Rosie and Walter withher.
The captain closed the book he had been reading and turned toward themwith a pleased smile.
"So I am not to be left to solitude, as I feared," he remarked.
"You must please send us away, sir, whenever you think that preferable toour company," returned Violet lightly.
"Do you deem me capable of such rudeness, Miss Travilla?" he asked withplayful look and tone.
"We will not consider it such," she answered, seating herself andbeginning her work, "since we can wander at will all over the house,while, for the present, you, sir, are a prisoner confined to this room andthe next."
"That reminds me," he said, "that of late you have absented yourself agreat deal from this room; to my no small discontent."
"It is flattering to my vanity and self-appreciation to learn that youhave missed me," she returned sportively, but with a slightly heightenedcolor.
"You can never be away from the rest of us without being missed, Vi,"remarked Rosie; "especially now that Sister Elsie is away."
"And do you not mean to gratify my curiosity as to what has been the causeof your many and prolonged absences, Miss Violet?" queried the captain.
"I have been busy elsewhere, sir. But is it not an understood thing thatcuriosity is a peculiarly feminine trait?"
"I am able to plead guiltless to the charge of ever having made such aninsinuation," said the captain; "and do now confess to having a full shareof inquisitiveness."
"May I tell, Vi?" asked Rosie.
"We must first learn whether Captain Raymond can keep a secret," Vianswered, glancing at him with a saucy smile.
"Yes, indeed!" he said, "as you shall learn if you will but allow me theopportunity."
"Then I may tell I!" cried Rosie; and hardly waiting for her sister's nodof acquiescence, went on. "She is preparing such a nice surprise for dearmamma, Captain Raymond, a miniature of papa which she has been painting onivory. I think it looks more like him than any photograph or paintedportrait that we have. And I am sure mamma could not have a moreacceptable present. Besides that, Vi has painted two flower-pieces; onefor grandpa and one for grandma."
"You have certainly been very industrious, Miss Violet," he remarked. "Ihave heard your studio spoken of. May I hope for the pleasure of visitingit when I recover the free use of my limbs?"
"That will not be for some weeks, sir; and in the mean while I will takeyour request into consideration," she answered demurely.
The morning passed very rapidly to the captain; the children amused himwith their prattle, and when after an hour or two, Rosie grew tired of thebit of fancy-work she was doing under her sister's supervision, andyielded to Walter's entreaties to "come to the nursery and buildblock-houses," thus leaving Violet his sole companion, the moments spedfaster than before; for he found her a very interesting and entertainingconversationist.
On their return the shopping-party brought with them the articles he hadmentioned. He pronounced them all entirely satisfactory, and they werepacked and sent northward with the addition of some pretty things for thedolls, contributed by Violet and Rosie.
Some unusual impulse of fatherly solicitude and affection led the captainto put his own address upon several envelopes in each writing-desk,stamping them also and adding a note to each of the three children.
To Max and Lulu he said that he wanted letters from them which should notpass through the hands of a third person, "letters that should be like abit of private chat with papa."
Seeing how tenderly and carefully the little Travillas were nurtured andwhat love was lavished upon them, had turned his thoughts frequently uponhis own motherless ones, and set him to thinking and asking himself ratheranxiously how they were faring in those respects. He had come to realizemore thoroughly than ever before his responsibility as a parent.
The Christmas work which had kept Violet busy in her studio was nowfinished, and henceforth she spent much more of her time with the rest ofthe family; greatly to Captain Raymond's satisfaction, for much as headmired the other ladies and enjoyed conversing with them and with Mr.Dinsmore, he was quite conscious of a constant uneasiness and discontentwhen Violet absented herself from the room.
His admiration for her beauty and grace had been unbounded from the first,and gradually as he discovered more and more of her sterling worth, hersweetness and unselfishness of disposition, her talent, industry, andgenuine piety, his heart had gone out to her in ardent affection; in factwith a deeper and stronger love than he had ever before known or dreamedof.
He began to ask himself how he could ever go away and leave her, andwhether he dared seek to make her his own. He was fully as loath as DonaldKeith to appear in the role of fortune-hunter. Would Mr. Dinsmore and hisdaughter, so noble themselves, be ready to impute so unworthy a motive tohim? He hoped not, he believed they would judge him by themselves. Andthey who so fully knew and appreciated all that Violet was must see
andbelieve that no man whose affections were not already engaged could bethrown into intimate association with her day after day, as he had beenfor so many weeks, and not learn to love her for herself alone.
Then he had learned incidentally from Dr. Conly, that the older daughterhad married a poor artist with the full consent of her parents andgrandfather, his lack of wealth being considered no objection to his suit.
Captain Raymond did not look upon wealth as the highest patent of nobilityeven in this republican country, but thought, in his manly independence,that his well-established reputation as an honorable, Christian gentleman,and officer of the United States Navy, made him in rank fully the peer ofthe Dinsmores and Travillas; and he believed that they would entirelyagree with him in that.
But he was not a conceited man, and felt by no means sure that Violetherself would give a favorable hearing to his suit. Under the peculiar andtrying circumstances of his sojourn at Ion he had not been able to offerher any attention, and her uniform kindness had probably been shown onlyto her mother's invalid guest. And as he thought of the disparity of yearsbetween them, and how many younger, and perhaps in every way moreattractive men, must have crossed her path, his hopes sank very low.
Yet he was not too proud to allow her the opportunity to reject him.Saying to himself, "Were I certain that she is indifferent to me, I wouldnot give her the pain of doing so--for I know her kind heart would feel ita pain--but as I am not sure of her feelings, it is only fair and just toher to let her know of mine and abide the issue," he decided that he wouldnot go away without speaking, yet that he would first ask the consent ofher natural guardians.
He therefore seized the first opportunity when alone with Mr. Dinsmore totell of his love for Violet, and ask if he could obtain his and themother's consent to the prosecution of his suit.
Mr. Dinsmore seemed both surprised and moved. He did not speak for amoment, then, with a heavy sigh, "Has it come to this already," he said"that we are likely to lose our little Vi? I don't know how either hermother or I can ever do without her! ever make up our minds to resign herto any one else!"
"I don't wonder at it, sir," the captain said with feeling. "But may Iunderstand that you do not object to me personally?"
"No, sir, oh no! I see no objection to you more than to any other, exceptdisparity of years, Violet being so young; and that is not so great as itwas between her parents."
"Then you give me some hope?"
"If you have won her affections, yes. How is it in regard to that?"
"I have said no word to her on the subject, Mr. Dinsmore--feeling that themore honorable course was first to ask permission of her mother andyourself--and am by no means certain that she cares for me at all exceptas a friend of the family and of her cousin, Lieut. Keith. Have I yourconsent, sir?"
"I will talk with my daughter, captain, and let you know the result."
He rose as if to leave the room, but the captain detained him.
"Let me tell you," he said, coloring in spite of himself, "that I am notrich, having very little beside my pay."
"That is a matter of small importance," Mr. Dinsmore answered in a kindlytone, "seeing that riches are so apt to take wings and fly away, and thatthe Master said, 'A man's life consisteth not in the abundance of thethings which he possesseth.' If her mother's wealth remains, Violet willbe well provided for, as I presume you are aware, yet I cannot for amoment suppose you capable of seeking her on that account. In fact," heconcluded with a smile, "the child has nothing at all of her own, and hermother can, should she choose, leave her penniless."
"And I should be more than willing to take her so, if I could get her,"the captain answered, returning the smile; "it would be a dear delight tome to provide her with all things desirable by my own exertions."
"Excuse the question, Capt. Raymond, but have you taken into considerationthe fact that Violet's extreme youth must render her unfit for the caresand responsibilities of motherhood to your children?"
"Mr. Dinsmore, there is not a woman in a thousand of those twice her agewhom I would as willingly trust. But she shall have no care or labor thatI can save her from, always supposing I can be so happy as to win her formy own."
The family had retired for the night to their own apartments. Mrs.Travilla, almost ready to seek her couch, sat alone in her dressing-roomin front of the brightly blazing wood fire; her open Bible was in herhand, a lamp burning on a little table by the side of her easy-chair.
Her dressing-gown of soft white cashmere became her well, and her unboundhair lying in rich masses on her shoulders lent a very youthful look toface and figure.
Her father thought, as he came softly in and stood at her side, gazingdown upon her, that he had seldom seen her more rarely beautiful.
She lifted her eyes to his with the old sweet smile of filial love andreverence, shut her book and laid it on the table.
He laid his hand gently on her head, bent down and kissed her on brow andcheek and lip.
"Dear papa, won't you sit down?" she said, rising to draw up a chair forhim.
"Yes," he answered; "I want a little talk with you. How wonderfully youngyou look to-night!--so like my little girl of other days that I feel astrong inclination to invite you to your old seat upon my knee. Will youtake it?" sitting down and drawing her gently toward him.
She yielded to his wish, saying, as she put her arm about his neck andgazed lovingly into his eyes, "I am still child enough to enjoy itgreatly, if I am not so heavy as to weary you, my dear father."
"I do not feel your weight unpleasantly," he returned. "You must rememberI am a very strong man, and you but a slight and delicate woman. Not soplump as I could wish to see you," he added, pushing up the sleeve of hergown and clasping his fingers round the white arm.
"Isn't there plenty of flesh there to hide the bones?" she askedlaughingly.
"The bones are well hidden, but the flesh is not so solid as I would haveit."
"Ah, papa, you must not be so hard to please!" she said, with playful lookand tone. "I think I'm in very good condition; am glad I'm not too heavyto sit here and play at being your own little girl again. What happy daysthose were! when I had not a care or anxiety except to please my earthlyand my heavenly father."
"Would you like to go back to them?"
"No, dear father, your love and tender care made me a very happy child,but I have no desire to retrace my steps. I should far rather pressforward to the heavenly home whither you are travelling with me--'the restthat remaineth to the people of God,' rest from sin as well as fromsorrow, pain, and care."
"'Casting _all_ you care upon _Him_, for He careth for you.' He who everliveth; He who hath all power in heaven and in earth; He who has said, 'Ihave loved thee with an everlasting love,' 'I will never leave thee norforsake thee.' Dear daughter, if cares and anxieties oppress you, askyourself what right a Christian has to be troubled with them."
"None, papa," she answered humbly; "I am thankful that I can say a beliefin His love and power prevents them from pressing very heavily, yet it ismy grief and shame that my faith is often too weak to lift the burdenentirely."
"What is the particular burden to-night?" he asked tenderly.
"My absent darlings, papa: my Elsie, now beginning with the cares ofmarried life, my eldest son exposed to I know not what dangers andtemptations."
"But with the very same Almighty Friend their mother has to watch over andprotect, to comfort and sustain them."
"Yes, papa! Oh, I ought not to have one anxious thought about them!"
"When such thoughts will arise, dear child, turn them into petitions ontheir behalf, and believing in God's willingness to hear and answerprayer, your heart may grow light.
"But this is not exactly what I came to talk about." Then he repeated thesubstance of his conversation with Capt. Raymond, and asked what answershe would give.
Her surprise was as great as her father's had been, and a look of sorepain came into her face as she exclaimed, "Violet! my little Vi! mu
st Ilose her too?"
"Perhaps not, dearest; it may be that she cares nothing for him. But youneed decide nothing to-night, and must try not to let the question keepyou awake."
For a moment she seemed lost in thought, then lifting to his, eyesbrimful of tears, "Papa," she said tremulously, "I cannot stand in the wayof my child's happiness, therefore I must let him speak, and learn fromher own lips whether she cares for him or not."
"Yes, I think you are right. And now, daughter dear, I must bid yougood-night. But first I want you to promise me that you will determinatelycast this care on the Lord, and not let it rob you of needed sleep."
They had both risen, and as he spoke he took her in his arms and held herclose to his heart.
"I will, papa, in obedience to Him and to you," she said, while for amoment her arm was about his neck, her head laid upon his breast.
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