Elsie's children

by Martha Finley

  CHAPTER NINETEENTH.

  "Let us go back again mother, Oh, take me home to die."

  "And so, Isa, my uncle's predictions that your popish teachers wouldviolate their promise not to meddle with your faith, have proved only tootrue," said Calhoun Conly, stepping forward, as Mr. Daly finished his lastquotation from the Scriptures.

  In the heat of their discussion, neither the minister nor Isadore hadnoticed his entrance, but he had been standing there, an interestedlistener, long enough to learn the sad fact of his sister's perversion.

  "They only did their duty, and I shall not have them blamed for it," shesaid, haughtily.

  "They richly deserve blame, and you cannot prevent it from being giventhem," he answered firmly, and with flashing eyes. "I have come, by mymother's request, to take you and Virginia home, inviting Miss Reed toaccompany us."

  "I am ready," said Isadore, rising, the others doing likewise.

  "But you will stay to tea?" Violet said. "Cal, you are not in too greathaste for that?"

  "I'm afraid I am, little cousin," he answered with a smile ofacknowledgment of her hospitality. "I must meet a gentleman on business,half an hour from now."

  Vi expressed her regrets, and ran after the girls, who had already leftthe room to prepare for their drive.

  They seemed in haste to get away.

  "We've had enough of Mr. Daly's prosing about religion," said Virginia.

  "I'm sick of it," chimed in Miss Reed, "what difference does it make whatyou believe, if you're only sincere and live right?"

  "'With the heart man believeth unto righteousness,'" said Violet; "and'the just shall live by faith.'"

  "You're an apt pupil," sneered Virginia.

  "It is mamma's doing that my memory is stored with texts," returned thechild, reddening.

  Isadore was silent and gloomy, and took leave of her young cousin socoldly, as to quite sadden her sensitive spirit.

  Violet had enjoyed being made much of by Isa, who was a beautiful andbrilliant young lady, and this sudden change in her manner was far frompleasant. Still the pain it gave her was greatly overbalanced by therelief of having her perplexities removed, her doubts set at rest.

  Standing on the veranda, she watched the carriage as it rolled away downthe avenue, then hailed with delight a horseman who came galloping up,alighted and giving the bridle to Solon, turned to her with open arms, anda smile that proclaimed him the bearer of good tidings, before he uttereda word.

  "Grandpa," she cried, springing to his embrace, "Oh, is Lily better?"

  "Yes," he said, caressing her, then turning to greet Rosie and the boys,who had come running at the sound of his voice. "I have had a letter fromyour mother, in which she says the dear invalid seems decidedly better."

  "Oh, joy! joy!" cried the children, Rosie hugging and kissing hergrandfather, the boys capering about in a transport of gladness.

  "And will they come home soon, grandpa?" asked Eddie.

  "Nothing is said about that, I presume they will linger at the North tillthe weather begins to grow too cool for Lily," Mr. Dinsmore answered,shaking hands with Mr. Daly, who, hearing his voice on the veranda,stepped out to inquire for news of the absent ones.

  While they talked together, Vi ran away in search of Aunt Chloe.

  She found her on the back veranda, enjoying a chat with Aunt Dicey andUncle Joe.

  "Oh, mammy, good news! good news!" Vi cried, half breathless with hasteand happiness; "grandpa had a letter from mamma, and our darling Lily isbetter, much better."

  "Bress de Lord!" ejaculated her listeners in chorus.

  "Bress his holy name, I hope de chile am gwine to discover her healthagin," added Uncle Joe. "I'se been a prayin' pow'ful strong for her."

  "'Spect der is been more'n you at dat business, Uncle Joe;" remarked AuntDicey, "'spect I knows one ole niggah dat didn't fail to disremember delittle darlin' at de throne ob grace."

  "De bressed lamb!" murmured Aunt Chloe, dropping a tear on Violet's goldencurls as she clasped her to her breast, "she's de Lord's own, and he'lltake de bes' care of her; in dis world and in de nex'; be sho' ob dat,honey. Ise mighty glad for her and my dear missus; and for you too MissWi'let. You's been frettin' yo' heart out 'bout Miss Lily."

  "I've been very anxious about her, mammy; and something else has beentroubling me too, but it's all right now," Violet answered with a gladlook, then releasing herself, ran back to her grandfather.

  She had seen less than usual of him for several weeks past, and wanted anopportunity to pour out all her heart to him.

  He had gone up to Molly's sitting-room, and she followed him thither.

  With Rosie on his knee, Harold and Herbert standing on either side, andEddie sitting near, he was chatting gayly with his crippled niece, whowas as bright and cheery as any of the group, all of whom were full ofjoy over the glad tidings he had brought.

  "Grandpa," said Vi, joining them, "it seems a good while since you werehere for more than a short call. Won't you stay now for the rest of theday?"

  "Yes, and I propose that we drive down to the lake, Molly and all, andhave a row. I think it would do you all good. The weather is delightful."

  The motion was carried by acclamation, Molly's maid was summoned, Eddiewent down to order the carriage, and the rest scattered to prepare for theexpedition.

  It was a lovely October day, the air balmy, the woods gorgeous in theirrichly colored autumn robes; gold, scarlet and crimson, russet and greenmingled in gay profusion; the slanting beams of the descending sun fellathwart the lakelet, like a broad band of shimmering gold, and here andthere lent an added glory to the trees. The boat glided swiftly over therippling waters, now in sunshine, now in shadow, and the children hushedtheir merry clatter, silenced by the beauty and stillness of the scene.

  Tea was waiting when they returned, and on leaving the table the youngerones bade good-night, and went away with Vi to be put to bed.

  She had a story or some pleasant talk for them every night; doing herbest to fill mamma's place.

  Vi was glad to find her grandpa alone in the library when she came downagain.

  "Come, sit on my knee, as your dear mamma used to do at your age," hesaid, "and tell me what you have been doing these past weeks while I haveseen so little of you."

  "It is so nice," she said as she took the offered seat, and he passed hisarm about her, "so nice to have a grandpa to pet me; especially when I'veno father or mother at home to do it."

  "So we are mutually satisfied," he said. "Now what have you to tell me?any questions to ask? any doubts or perplexities to be cleared away?"

  "Grandpa, has anybody been telling you anything?" she asked.

  "No, nothing about you."

  "Then I'll just tell you all." And she gave him a history of Isadore'sefforts to pervert her, and their effect upon her; also of theconversation of that afternoon, in which Mr. Daly had answered thequestions of Isadore, that had most perplexed and troubled her.

  Mr. Dinsmore was grieved and distressed by Isa's defection from theevangelical faith, and indignant at her attempt to lead Vi astray also.

  "Are you fully satisfied now on all the points?" he asked.

  "There are one or two things I should like to ask you about, grandpa,"she said. "Isa thinks a convent life so beautiful and holy, so shut outfrom the world, with all its cares and wickedness, she says; so quiet andpeaceful, so full of devotion and the self-denial the Lord Jesus taughtwhen he said, 'If any man will come after me, let him deny himself andtake up his cross and follow me.'

  "Do you think leaving one's dear home and father and mother, and brothersand sisters to be shut up for life with strangers, in a convent, was thecross he meant, grandpa?"

  "No, I am perfectly sure it was not; the Bible teaches us to do our dutyin the place where God puts us; it recognizes the family relationships;teaches the reciprocal duties of kinsmen, parents and children, husbandsand wives, but has not a word to say to monks or nuns.

  "It bids us take up
the cross God lays upon us, and not one of our owninvention; nor did one of the holy men and women it tells of live the lifeof an anchorite. Nor can peace and freedom from temptation and sin befound in a convent any more than elsewhere; because we carry our evilnatures with us wherever we go."

  "No; peace and happiness are to be found only in being 'followers of Godas dear children,' doing our duty in that station in life where he hasplaced us; our motive love to him; leading us to desire above all thingsto live to his honor and glory."

  Violet sat with downcast eyes, her face full of earnest thought. She wassilent for a moment after Mr. Dinsmore had ceased speaking, then liftingher head and turning to him with a relieved look, "Thank you, grandpa,"she said. "I am fully satisfied on that point. Now, there is just onemore. Isa says the divisions among Protestants show that the Bible is nota book for common people to read for themselves. They cannot understand itright; if they did they would all believe alike."

  Mr. Dinsmore smiled. "Who is to explain it?" he asked.

  "Oh, Isa says that is for the priests to do; and they and the people mustaccept the decisions of the church."

  "Well, my child, it would take too much time to tell you just howimpossible it is to find out what are the authoritative decisions of theRomish Church on more than one important point;--how one council wouldcontradict another--one pope affirm what his predecessors had denied, andvice versa; councils contradict popes, and popes councils.

  "As to the duty of studying the Bible for ourselves--we have the master'sown command, 'Search the Scriptures,' which settles the question at oncefor all his obedient disciples. And no one who sets himself to the workhumbly and teachably, looking to the Holy Spirit for enlightenment, willfail to find the path to heaven. 'The way-faring men, though fools shallnot err therein.' Jesus said 'The Comforter which is the Holy Ghost, whomthe Father will send in my name, he shall teach you all things.'

  "And, my child, none of us is responsible for the interpretation that hisneighbor puts upon God's word,--his letter addressed to us all; each of usmust give account of himself to God."

  Violet's doubts and perplexities had vanished like morning mist before therising sun; her natural gayety of spirits returned, and she became againas was her wont, the sunshine of the house, full of life and hope, with acheery word and sunny smile for every one, from Mr. Daly down to Rosie,and from Aunt Chloe to the youngest child at the quarter.

  She had not been so happy since the departure of her parents.

  Eddie, Molly and the younger ones, reflected in some measure her brighthopefulness, and the renewed ardor with which she pursued her studies, andfor some days all went on prosperously at Ion.

  Then came a change.

  One evening, Vi, having seen Rosie in bed, and bade Harold and Herbertgood-night also, returned to the schoolroom, where Eddie and their cousinwere busied with their preparations for the morrow's recitations.

  She had settled herself before her desk, and was taking out her books,when the sound of horses' hoofs coming swiftly up the avenue, caused herto spring up and run to the window.

  "It is grandpa," she said. "He seldom comes so late, oh, Eddie!" and shedropped into a chair, her heart beating wildly.

  "Don't be alarmed," Eddie said, rising and coming toward her, his ownvoice trembling with apprehension, "it may be good news again."

  "Oh, do you think so? Can it be?" she asked.

  "Surely, Vi, uncle would come as fast as possible if he had good news tobring," said Molly. "Perhaps it is that they are coming home; it isgetting so late in the fall now, that I'm expecting every day to hearthat."

  "Let's go down to grandpa," said Vi, rising, while a faint color stoleinto her cheek, which had grown very pale at the thought that the littlepet sister might be dead or dying. "No, no," as a step was heard on thestairs, "he is coming to us."

  The door opened, and Mr. Dinsmore entered. One look into hisgrief-stricken face, and Violet threw herself into his arms, and wept uponhis breast.

  He soothed her with silent caresses; his heart almost too full for speech;but at length, "It is not the worst," he said in low, moved tones, "shelives, but has had a relapse, and they are bringing her home."

  "Home to die!" echoed Violet's heart, and she clung about hergrandfather's neck, weeping almost convulsively.

  Tears coursed down Molly's cheeks also, and Eddie, hardly less overcomethan his sister, asked tremulously, "How soon may we expect them,grandpa?"

  "In about two days, I think; and my dear children, we must schoolourselves to meet Lily with calmness and composure, lest we injure, byexciting and agitating her. We must be prepared to find her more feeblethan when she went away, and much exhausted by the fatigue of thejourney."

  Worse than when she went away! and even then the doctors gave no hope! Itwas almost as if they already saw her lying lifeless before them.

  They wept themselves to sleep that night, and in the morning it was asthough death had already entered the house; a solemn stillness reigned inall its rooms, and the quiet tread, the sad, subdued tones, the oftfalling tear, attested the warmth of affection in which the dear, dyingchild was held.

  A parlor car was speeding southward; its occupants, a noble looking man, alovely matron, a blooming, beautiful girl of seventeen, a rosy babe in hisnurse's arms, and a pale, fragile, golden-haired, blue-eyed child ofseven, lying now on a couch with her head in her mother's lap, now restingin her father's arms for a little.

  She seemed the central figure of the group, all eyes turning ever andanon, upon her in tenderest solicitude, every ear attentive to herslightest plaint, every hand ready to minister to her wants.

  She was very quiet, very patient, answering their anxious, questioningwords and looks with many a sweet, affectionate smile or whisper ofgrateful appreciation of their ministry of love.

  Sometimes she would beg to be lifted up for a moment that she might seethe rising or setting sun, or gaze upon the autumnal glories of the woods,and as they drew near their journey's end she would ask, "Are we almostthere, papa? shall I soon see my own sweet home, and dear brothers andsisters?"

  At last the answer was, "Yes, my darling; in a few moments we shall leavethe car for our own easy carriage, and one short stage will take us hometo Ion."

  Mr. Dinsmore, his son, and Arthur Conly met them at the station, and toldhow longingly their dear ones at home were looking for them.

  The sun had set, and shadows began to creep over the landscape as thecarriage stopped before the door and Lily was lifted out, borne into thehouse and gently laid upon her own little bed.

  She was nearly fainting with fatigue and weakness, and dearly as theothers were loved, father and mother had no eyes for any but her, no wordof greeting, as the one bore her past, the other hastily followed, withthe doctor and grandfather, to her room.

  But Elsie and Vi were quickly locked in each other's arms, mingling theirtears together, while Rosie and the boys gathered round, awaiting theirturn.

  "Oh!" sobbed Rosie, "mamma didn't speak to me; she didn't look at me; shedoesn't love me any more; nor my papa either."

  "Yes, they do, little pet," Elsie said, leaving Violet to embrace thelittle sister; "and sister Elsie loves you dearly, dearly. Harold andHerbert too; as well as our big oldest brother," smiling up at Eddiethrough her tears, as he stood by her side.

  He bent down to kiss her sweet lips.

  "Lily?" he said in a choking voice.

  With a great effort Elsie controlled her emotion, and answered low andtremulously, "She is almost done with pain. She is very happy--no doubt,no fear, only gladness that soon she will be

  'Safe in the arms of Jesus, Safe on his gentle breast'"

  Eddie turned away with a broken sob. Vi uttered a low cry of anguish; andRosie and the boys broke into a wail of sorrow.

  Till that moment they had not given up hope that the dear one might evenyet be restored.

  In the sick-room the golden head lay on a snow white pillow, the blue eyeswere closed, and the
breath came pantingly from the pale, parted lips.

  "Cousin Arthur" had his finger on the slender wrist, counting itspulsations, while father and grandfather stood looking on in anxioussolicitude, and the mother bent over her fading flower, asking in tenderwhispered accents, "are you in pain, my darling?"

  "No, mamma, only so tired; so tired!"

  Only the mother's quick ear, placed close to the pale lips, could catchthe low-breathed words.

  The doctor administered a cordial, then a little nourishment was given,and the child fell asleep.

  The mother sat watching her, lost to all else in the world. Arthur came toher side with a whispered word about her own need of rest and refreshmentafter her fatiguing journey.

  "How long?" she asked in the same low tone, glancing first at the whiteface on the pillow, then at him.

  "Some days, I hope; and she is likely now to sleep for hours. Let me takeyour place."

  Elsie bent over the child, listening for a moment to her breathing, thenaccepting his offer, followed her husband and father from the room.

  Rosie, waiting and watching in the hall without, sprang to her mother'sembrace with a low, joyful cry, "Mamma, mamma! oh, you've been gone solong, so long! I thought you'd never come back."

  "Mamma is very glad to be with you again," Elsie said, holding her closefor a moment, then resigning her to her father, she sought the others,all near at hand, and waiting eagerly for a sight of her loved face, aword from her gentle lips.

  They were all longing for one of the old confidential talks, Violet,perhaps, more than the others; but it could not be now, the mother couldscarcely allow herself time for a little rest, ere she must return to herstation by the side of the sick bed.

  But Molly was not forgotten or neglected. Elsie went to her with kindinquiries, loving cheering words and a message from Dick, whom she hadseen a few days before.

  Molly sat thinking it over gratefully, after her cousin had left the room.

  "How kind and thoughtful for others she is! how sweet and gentle, howpatient and resigned. I will try to be more like her. How truly she obeysthe command 'Be pitiful, be courteous.'

  "But why should one so lovely, so devoted a Christian, be visited with sosore a trial? I can see why my trials were sent. I was so proud andworldly; and they were necessary to show me my need of Jesus; but she hasloved and leaned upon him since she was a little child."