CHAPTER XI.
"How terrible is passion!"
The summer passed quickly and pleasantly to our friends of Ion andFairview. The plans they had made for themselves before leaving homewere carried out, with, perhaps, some slight variations.
Lulu had her greatly desired visit to Cliff Cottage, and enjoyed itnearly as much as she had hoped to; a good deal less than she would ifshe could have quite forgotten her past misconduct, and its impendingconsequences.
As matters stood, she could seldom entirely banish the thought that thetime was daily drawing nearer when her father's sentence would becarried out, to her sad exclusion from the pleasant family circle ofwhich she had now been so long a member.
She experienced the truth of the saying, that blessings brighten as theytake their flight, and would have given much to undo the past, so thatshe might prove herself worthy of a continuance of those she had ratedso far below their real value, that, in spite of her father's repeatedwarnings, she had wantonly thrown them away.
She kept her promise to Violet, and strove earnestly to deserve a repealof her sentence, though her hope of gaining it was very faint. Allsummer long she had exercised sufficient control over her temper toavoid any outbursts of passion, and generally had behaved quite amiably.
By the 1st of October the two families were again at home at Ion andFairview, pursuing the even tenor of their way, Lulu with them, as ofold, no new home having yet been found for her. No one had cared to makemuch effort in that direction. It was just as well, Mr. Dinsmore, Elsiehis daughter, and Violet thought, simply to let things take their coursetill her father should return, and take matters into his own hands.
There was no certainty when that would be: his letters still alluded tohis coming that fall as merely a possibility.
But Lulu had been so amiable and docile for months past, that no one wasin haste to be rid of her presence. Even Rosie was quite friendly withher, had ceased to tease and vex her; and mutual forbearance had giveneach a better opinion of the other than she had formerly entertained.
But Lulu grew self-confident, and began to relax her vigilance: it wasso long since her temper had got decidedly the better of her, that shethought it conquered, or so nearly so that she need not be continuallyon the watch against it.
Rosie had brought home with her a new pet,--a beautiful puppy asmischievous as he was handsome.
Unfortunately it happened again and again that something belonging toLulu attracted his attention, and was seriously damaged or totallydestroyed by his teeth and claws. He chewed up a pair of kid glovesbelonging to her; and it did not mend matters that Rosie laughed asthough it were a good joke, and then told her it was her own fault fornot putting them in their proper place when she took them off: he toreher garden-hat into shreds; he upset her inkstand; tumbled over herwork-basket, tangling the spools of sewing-silk and cotton; jumped uponher with muddy paws, soiling a new dress and handsome sash; and at lastcapped the climax by defacing a book of engravings, belonging to Mr.Dinsmore, which she had carelessly left in his way.
Then her anger burst forth, and she kicked the dog till his howlsbrought Rosie running to the rescue.
"How dare you, Lulu Raymond!" she exclaimed, with flashing eyes, as shegathered Trip in her arms, and soothed him with caresses. "I'll notallow my pet to be so ill used in my own mother's house!"
"He deserves a great deal more than I gave him," retorted Lulu,quivering with passion; "and if you don't want him hurt, you'll have tokeep him out of mischief. Just look what he has done to this book!"
"One of grandpa's handsome volumes of engravings!" cried Rosie, aghast."But who left it lying there?"
"I did."
"Then you are the one to blame, and not my poor little Trip, who, ofcourse, knew no better. How is he to tell that books are not meant forgnawing quite as much as bones?"
"What is the matter, children?" asked Mr. Dinsmore, stepping out uponthe veranda where the little scene was enacting. "It surprises me tohear such loud and angry tones."
For a moment each girlish head drooped in silence, hot blushes dyeingtheir cheeks; then Lulu, lifting hers, said, "I'm very sorry, grandpaDinsmore. I oughtn't to have brought this book out here; but it wouldn'thave come to any harm if it hadn't been for that troublesome dog, that'sas full of mischief as he can be. I don't believe it was more than fiveminutes that I left the book lying there on the settee; and when I ranback to get it, and put it away in its place, he had torn out a leaf,and nibbled and soiled the cover, as you see.
"But if you'll please not be angry, I'll save up all my pocket-moneytill I can buy you another copy."
"That would take a good while, child," Mr. Dinsmore answered. "It is agreat pity you were so careless. But I'll not scold you, since you areso penitent, and so ready to make all the amends in your power. Rosie,you really must try to restrain the mischievous propensities of yourpet."
"I do, grandpa," she said, flashing an angry glance at Lulu; "but Ican't keep him in sight every minute; and, if people will leave thingsin his way, I think they are more to blame than he is if he spoilsthem."
"Tut, tut! don't speak to me in that manner," said her grandfather. "Ifyour dog continues to damage valuable property, he shall be sent away."
Rosie made no reply, but colored deeply as she turned and walked awaywith her pet in her arms.
"Now, Lulu," said Mr. Dinsmore, not unkindly, "remember that in futureyou are not to bring a valuable book such as this, out here. If you wantto look at them, do so in the library."
"Yes, sir, I will. I'm very sorry about that; but if you'll tell me,please, how much it would cost to buy another just like it, I'll writeto papa, and I know he will pay for it."
"I thought you proposed to pay for it yourself," remarked Mr. Dinsmoregrimly.
"Yes, sir; but I don't wish to keep you waiting; papa wouldn't wish it.He sends his children pocket-money every once in a while, and I'd askhim to keep back what he considered my share till it would count up toas much as the price of the book."
"Well, child, that is honorable and right," Mr. Dinsmore said in apleasanter tone; "but I think we will let the matter rest now till yourfather comes, which I trust will be before a very great while."
Rosie, knowing that her grandfather was quite capable of carrying outhis threat, lacking neither the ability nor the will to do so, curtailedthe liberty of her pet, and exerted herself to keep him out of mischief.
Still, he occasionally came in Lulu's way, and when he did was very aptto receive a blow or kick.
He had a fashion of catching at her skirts with his teeth, and givingthem a jerk, which was very exasperating to her--all the more so, thatRosie evidently enjoyed seeing him do it.
A stop would have been put to the "fun" if the older people of thefamily had happened to be aware of what was going on; but the dog alwaysseemed to seize the opportunity when none of them were by, and Luluscorned to tell tales.
One morning, about a week after the accident to the book, Lulu, comingdown a little before the ringing of the breakfast-bell, found Max on theveranda.
"Don't you want to take a ride with me after breakfast, Lu?" he asked."Mamma Vi says I can have her pony; and, as Rosie doesn't care to go, ofcourse you can ride hers."
"How do you know Rosie doesn't want to ride?" asked Lulu.
"Because I heard her tell her mother she didn't; that she meant todrive over to Roselands with grandpa Dinsmore instead; that he had toldher he expected to go there to see Cal about some business matter, andwould take her with him. So you see, her pony won't be wanted; andgrandma Elsie has often said we could have it whenever it wasn't in useor tired, and of course it must be quite fresh this morning."
"Then I'll go," said Lulu with satisfaction; for she was extremely fondof riding, especially when her steed was Rosie's pretty, easy-goingpony, Gyp.
So Max ordered the two ponies to be in readiness; and, as soon asbreakfast was over, Lulu hastened to her room to prepare for her ride.
But in the mea
n time Mr. Dinsmore had told Rosie he had, for somereason, changed his plans, and should wait till afternoon to make hiscall at Roselands.
Then Rosie, glancing from the window, and seeing her pony at the door,ready saddled and bridled, suddenly decided to take a ride, ran to herroom, donned riding hat and habit, and was down again a little inadvance of Lulu.
Max, who was on the veranda, waiting for his sister, felt ratherdismayed at sight of Rosie, as she came tripping out in riding-attire.
"O Rosie! excuse me," he said. "I heard you say you were going to driveto Roselands with your grandpa, and so, as I was sure you wouldn't bewanting your pony, I ordered him saddled for Lu."
"That happened very well, because he is here now all ready for me,"returned Rosie, laughing, as she vaulted into the saddle, hardly givingMax a chance to help her. "Lu can have him another time. Come, will yougo with me?"
For an instant Max hesitated. He did not like to refuse Rosie's request,as she was not allowed to go alone outside the grounds, yet was equallyaverse to seem to desert Lu.
"But," he thought, "she's sure to be in a passion when she finds thisout, and I can't bear to see it."
So he sprang upon his waiting steed; and as Lulu, ready dressed for herride, and eager to take it, stepped out upon the veranda, she justcaught a glimpse of the two horses and their riders disappearing downthe avenue.
She turned white with anger at the sight, and stamped her foot in fury,exclaiming between her clinched teeth, "It's the meanest trick I eversaw!"
There were several servants standing near, one of them little Elsie'snurse, an old negress, Aunt Dinah, who, having lived in the family formore than twenty years, felt herself privileged to speak her mind uponoccasion, particularly to its younger members.
"Now, Miss Lu," she said, "dat's not de propah way fo' you to talk'bout dis t'ing; kase dat pony b'longs to Miss Rosie, an' co'se she habde right to ride him befo' anybody else."
"You've no call to put in your word, and I'm not going to be lecturedand reproved by a servant!" retorted Lulu passionately; and turningquickly away, she strode to the head of the short flight of stepsleading down into the avenue, and stood there leaning against a pillar,with her back toward the other occupants of the veranda. Her left armwas round the pillar, and in her right hand she held her littleriding-whip.
She was angry at Dinah, furiously angry at Rosie; and when the nextminute something--Rosie's dog, she supposed--tugged at her skirts, shegave a vicious backward kick without turning her head.
Instantly a sound of something falling, accompanied by a faint,frightened little cry, and chorus of shrieks of dismay from older voicesflashed upon her the terrible knowledge that she had sent her babysister rolling down the steps to the hard gravel-walk below.
She clutched at her pillar, almost losing consciousness for one briefmoment, in her dreadful fright.
Violet's agonized cry, as she came rushing from the open doorway, "Mybaby! oh, my baby! she's killed!" roused her: and she saw Dinah pick upthe little creature from the ground, and place it in its mother's arms,where it lay limp and white, like a dead thing, without sense or motion;the whole household, young and old, black and white, gathering round inwild excitement and grief.
No one so much as glanced at her, or seemed to think of her at all:their attention was wholly occupied with the injured little one.
She shuddered as she caught a glimpse of its deathlike face, then puther hand over her eyes to shut out the fearful sight. She felt as if shewere turning to stone with a sense of the awful thing she had done inher mad passion; then suddenly seized with an overwhelming desire tohide herself from all these eyes, that would presently be gazingaccusingly and threateningly at her, she hurried away to her own room,and shut and locked herself in.
Her riding-whip was still in her hand. She tossed it on to thewindow-sill, tore off her gloves, hat, and habit, and threw them aside,then, dropping on her knees beside the bed, buried her face in theclothes, sobbing wildly, "Oh, I've killed my little sister! my own dearlittle baby sister! What shall I do? what shall I do?"
Moments passed that seemed like hours: faint sounds came up from below.She heard steps and voices, and, "Was that mamma Vi crying,--crying asif her heart would break? saying over and over again, 'My baby's dead!my baby's dead! killed by her sister, her cruel, passionate sister!'Would they come and take her (Lulu) to jail? Would they try her formurder, and hang her? Oh! then papa's heart would break, losing two ofhis children in such dreadful ways.
"Oh! wouldn't it break anyhow when he heard what she had done,--when heknew the baby was dead, and that she had killed it, even if she shouldnot be sent to prison, and tried for murder?"
At length some one tried the door; and a little, sobbing voice said,"Lulu, please let me in."
She rose, staggered to the door, and unlocked it. "Is it only you,Gracie?" she asked in a terrified whisper, opening it just far enough toadmit the little slender figure.
"Yes: there's nobody else here," said the child. "I came to tell you thebaby isn't dead; but the doctor has come, and, I believe, he doesn'tfeel sure she won't die. O Lu! how could you?" she asked with a burst ofsobs.
"O Gracie! I didn't do it on purpose! how could you think so? I mean, Ididn't know it was the baby: I thought it was that hateful dog."
"Oh, I'm glad! I couldn't b'lieve it, though some of them do!" exclaimedGracie in a tone of relief.
Then, with a fresh burst of tears and sobs, "But she's dreadfully hurt,the dear little thing! I heard the doctor tell grandpa Dinsmore he wasafraid she'd never get over it; but he mustn't let mamma know yet,'cause maybe she might."
Lulu paced the room, wringing her hands and sobbing like one distracted.
"O Gracie!" she cried, "I'd like to beat myself black and blue! I justhope papa will come home and do it, because I ought to be made to sufferever so much for hurting the baby so."
"O Lu, no!" cried Gracie, aghast at the very idea. "It wouldn't do thebaby any good. Oh, I hope papa won't whip you!"
"But he will! I know he will; and he ought to," returned Luluvehemently. "Oh, hark!"
She stood still, listening intently, Grace doing the same. They hadseemed to hear a familiar step that they had not heard for many a longmonth; yes, there it was again: and with a low cry of joy, Grace boundedto the door, threw it open, but closed it quickly behind her, and spranginto her father's arms.
"My darling, my precious little daughter!" he said, clasping her close,and showering kisses on her face. "Where is every one? you are the firstI have seen, and--why, how you have been crying! What is wrong?"
"O papa! the baby--the baby's most killed," she sobbed. "Come, I'll takeyou to her and mamma!"
Fairly stunned by the sudden dreadful announcement, he silentlysubmitted himself to her guidance, and suffered her to lead him into thenursery, where Violet sat in a low chair with the apparently dying babeon her lap, her mother, grandfather and his wife, and the doctor,grouped about her.
No one noticed his entrance, so intent were they all upon the littlesufferer; but just as he gained her side, Violet looked up, andrecognized him with a low cry of mingled joy and grief.
"O Levis, my husband! Thank God that you have come in time--to see heralive."
He bent down and kissed the sweet, tremulous lips, his features workingwith emotion, "My wife, my dear love, what--what is this? what ails ourlittle one?" he asked in anguished accents, turning his eyes upon thewaxen baby face; and, bending still lower, he softly touched his lips toits forehead.
No one replied to his question; and gazing with close scrutiny at thechild, "She has been hurt?" he said, half in assertion, halfinquiringly.
"Yes, captain," said Dr. Conly: "she has had a fall,--a very severe onefor so young and tender a creature."
"How did it happen?" he asked, in tones of mingled grief and sternness.
No one answered; and after waiting a moment, he repeated the question,addressing it directly to his wife.
"Oh, do not ask me, love!" she
said entreatingly, and he reluctantlyyielded to her request; but light began to dawn upon him, sending anadded pang to his heart; suddenly he remembered Lulu's former jealousyof the baby, her displeasure at its birth; and with a thrill of horror,he asked himself if this could be her work.
He glanced about the room in search of her and Max.
Neither was there.
He passed noiselessly into the next room, then into the one beyond,--hiswife's boudoir,--and there found his son.
Max sat gazing abstractedly from a window, his eyes showing traces oftears.
Turning his head as the captain entered, he started up with a joyful butsubdued cry, "Papa!" then threw himself with bitter sobbing into thearms outstretched to receive him.
"My boy, my dear boy!" the captain said, in moved tones. "What is thisdreadful thing that has happened? Can you tell me how your baby sistercame to get so sad a fall?"
"I didn't see it, papa: I was out riding at the time."
"But you have heard about it from those who did see it?"
"Yes, sir," the lad answered reluctantly; "but--please, papa, don't askme what they said."
"Was Lulu at home at the time?"
"Yes, sir."
"Would she be able to tell me all about it, do you think?"
"I haven't seen her, papa, since I came in," Max answered evasively.
The captain sighed. His suspicions had deepened to almost certainty.
"Where is she?" he asked, releasing Max from his embrace, and turning toleave the room.
"I do not know, papa," answered Max.
"Where was the baby when she fell? can you tell me that?" asked hisfather.
"On the veranda, sir: so the servants told me."
"Which of them saw it?"
"Aunt Dinah, Agnes, Aunt Dicey,--nearly all the women, I believe, sir."
The captain mused a moment.
"Was Lulu there?" he asked.
"Yes, sir; and papa,--if you _must_ know just how it happened,--I thinkshe could tell you all about it as well as anybody else, or maybebetter. And you know she always speaks the truth."
"Yes," the captain said, as if considering the suggestion: "however, Iprefer to hear the story first from some one else."
He passed on through the upper hall and down the stairs, then on out tothe veranda, where he found a group of servants--of whom Aunt Dicey wasone--excitedly discussing the very occurrence he wished to inquireabout.
They did not share the reluctance of Violet and Max, but answered hisquestions promptly, with a very full and detailed account of the affair.
They gave a graphic description of the rage Lulu was thrown into at thesight of Rosie galloping away on the pony she had expected to ride,repeated her angry retort in reply to Aunt Dinah's reproof, and told,without any extenuation of the hard facts, how the baby girl, escapingfrom her nurse's watchful care for a moment, had toddled along to hersister, caught at her skirts for support, and received a savage kick,that sent her down the steps to the gravel-walk below.
The captain heard the story with ever increasing, burning indignation.Lulu's act seemed the very wantonness of cruelty,--a most cowardlyattack of a big, strong girl upon a tiny, helpless creature, who had anindisputable claim upon her tenderest protecting care.
By the time the story had come to an end, he was exceedingly angry withLulu; he felt that in this instance it would be no painful task to himto chastise her with extreme severity; in fact, he dared not go to herat once, lest he should do her some injury; he had never yet punished achild in anger; he had often resolved that he never would, but wouldalways wait till the feeling of love for the delinquent was uppermost inhis heart, so that he could be entirely sure his motive was a desire forthe reformation of the offender, and not the gratification of his ownpassion.
Feeling that he had a battle to fight with himself ere he dared ventureto discipline his child, and that he must have solitude for it, hestrode away down the avenue, turned into a part of the grounds butlittle frequented, and there paced back and forth, his arms folded onhis breast, his head bent, his heart going up in silent prayer forstrength to rule his own spirit, for patience and wisdom according tohis need.
Then he strove to recall all that was lovable about his wayward littledaughter, and to think of every possible excuse for the dreadful deedshe had done, yet without being able to find any that deserved the name.
At length, feeling that the victory was at least partially won, andfilled with anxiety about the baby, he began to retrace his steps towardthe house.
In the avenue, he met Edward and Zoe, who greeted him with joyfulsurprise, not having before known of his arrival.
The expression of his countenance told them that he was already informedof the sad occurrence of the morning; and Edward said with heartfeltsympathy, "It is but a sad home-coming for you, captain, but let us tryto hope for the best: it is possible the little darling has not receivedany lasting injury."
A silent pressure of the hand was the captain's only reply for themoment. He seemed too much overcome for speech.
"Such a darling as she is!" said Zoe; "the pet of the whole house, andjust the loveliest little creature I ever saw."
"Did you--either of you--see her fall?" asked the captain huskily.
"Yes," said Zoe, "I did. Violet and I happened to be at the window ofthe little reception-room overlooking the veranda, and were watching thelittle creature as she toddled along, and"--But Zoe paused, suddenlyremembering that her listener was the father of Lulu as well as of herpoor little victim.
"Please go on," he said with emotion. "What was it that sent her downthe steps?"
"Lulu was standing there," Zoe went on, hesitating, and coloring withembarrassment, "and I saw the baby-hands clutch at her skirts"--
Again she paused.
"And Lulu, giving the tender, toddling thing a savage kick, caused thedreadful catastrophe?" he groaned, turning away his face. "You need nothave feared to tell me. I had already heard it from the servants whowere eye-witnesses, and I only wanted further and undoubtedly reliabletestimony."
"I think," said Edward, "that Lulu really had no idea what it was shewas kicking at. I happened to be out in the grounds, and coming roundthe corner of the house just in time to catch her look of horror anddespair as she half turned her head and saw the baby fall."
"Thank you," the captain said feelingly. "It is some relief to herunhappy father to learn of the least extenuating circumstance."
Elsie's Kith and Kin Page 11
