Elsie's Womanhood

by Martha Finley

  CHAPTER FIFTH.

  "Joy never feasts so high As when the first course is of misery." --SUCKLING.

  Adelaide's marriage was fixed for Christmas eve, and Mr. Dinsmore andElsie decided to take their trip to Louisiana at once, that they might beable to return in season for the wedding, at which Elsie was to be firstbridesmaid.

  It was Elsie herself who broke the news of her intended journey to herfaithful old nurse, explaining why she felt it her duty to go, and kindlyleaving to Chloe's own decision whether she would accompany her or not.

  The dusky face grew very sad for a moment, tears springing to the darkeyes; but the voice was almost cheerful as she answered, "Yes, you'sright, honey darlin' you's all right to go and see 'bout dem poor soulsand let 'em see dere beau'ful young missus; and your ole mammy 'll go'long too, for she neber could stay and let her chile run all dem risks onde boats an' cars an' she no dar to take care ob her."

  "That's right, my own dear old mammy. I shall be glad to have you along,and hope you will find it pleasanter than you expect; but we must trustthe Lord to take care of us all; for He only can prevent the accidents youfear."

  "Yes, yes, honey, dat's de truff; an' we'll trust Him an' not be 'fraid,'cause don't He say, 'Not a hair ob your head shall perish.'"

  "'What time I am afraid I will trust in Thee,'" murmured Elsie, softly."Ah, the joy, the peace, of knowing that His presence and His love willever go with us everywhere; and that He has all power in heaven and inearth."

  A week later, Mr. Dinsmore was showing his daughter the beauties of NewOrleans, where they had arrived without accident or loss. They remained inthe city long enough to attend thoroughly to the business which had calledthem there, and to see everything worth looking at.

  Elsie's plantation was in the Teche country, the very loveliest part ofgrand old Louisiana. In order that suitable preparations might be made fortheir reception, word had been sent that they might be expected on acertain day.

  "We have allowed more time than necessary for this place," said Mr.Dinsmore to his daughter one evening on returning to their hotel, afterseeing the last of the lions of the Crescent City; "we have two days tospare; what shall be done in them?"

  "Let us go on to Viamede at once then, papa," replied Elsie, promptly. "Ihave been regretting that we sent notice of our coming. I doubt if itwould not have been wiser to take them by surprise."

  "There would not be the same preparations for your comfort," replied herfather, taking a seat by her on the sofa, for they were in their ownprivate parlor; "you may find unaired bed-linen and an empty larder,which, beside inconveniencing yourself, would sorely mortify and troubleAunt Phillis and her right-hand woman, Sarah, the cook."

  "I should be sorry you should have an inhospitable reception, papa, butfires are soon kindled and linen aired, and is not the pantry keptsupplied with canned and preserved fruits? and are there not fresh fruits,vegetables, chickens, and eggs at hand for immediate use?"

  "Yes, certainly; and we are not likely to suffer. We Will, then, leavehere to-morrow, if you wish, taking the steamer for Berwick Bay. But whyprefer to come upon them unexpectedly?"

  Elsie smiled, and blushed slightly. "You know I never have anyconcealments from you, papa, and I will be frank about this," she said. "Idon't think I apt to be suspicious, and yet the thought has come to meseveral times within the last few days, that the overseer has had everyopportunity to abuse my poor people if he happens to be of a crueldisposition. And if he is ill-treating them I should like to catch him atit," she added, her eyes kindling, and the color deepening on her cheek.

  "And what would you do in that case?" her lather asked, with a slightsmile, drawing her close to him and touching his lips to the bloomingcheek.

  "Dismiss him, I suppose, papa; I don't know what else I could do to punishhim or prevent further cruelties. I should not like to shoot him down,"she added, laughingly; "and I doubt if I should have strength to floghim."

  "Doubt?" laughed her father, "certainly you could not, single-handed;unless his politeness should lead him to refrain from any effort to defendhimself; and I, it would seem, am not expected to have anything to do withthe matter."

  A deeper blush than before now suffused Elsie's fair cheek. "Forgive me,dear papa," she said, laying her head on his shoulder, and fondly strokinghis face with her pretty white hand. "Please consider yourself masterthere as truly as at the Oaks, and as you have been for years; andunderstand that your daughter means to take no important step without yourentire approval."

  "No, I do not go there as master, but as your guest," he answered, halfplayfully, half tenderly.

  "My guest? That seems pleasant indeed, papa; and yet I want you to bemaster too. But you will at least advise me?"

  "To the best of my ability, my little girl."

  "Thank you, my dear kind father. I have another reason for wishing tostart to-morrow. I'm growing anxious and impatient to see my birthplaceagain: and," she added low and tenderly, "mamma's grave."

  "Yes, we will visit it together for the first time; though I have stoodthere alone again and again, and her baby daughter used to be taken therefrequently to scatter flowers over it and play beside it. Do you rememberthat?"

  "Yes, sir, as an almost forgotten dream, as I do the house and grounds andsome of the old servants who petted and humored me."

  While father and daughter conversed thus together in the parlor, a duskyfigure sat at a window in the adjoining bedroom, gazing out upon themoonlighted streets and watching the passers-by. But her thoughts, too,were straying to Viamede; fast-coming memories of earlier days, some allbright and joyous, others filled with the gloom and thick darkness of aterrible anguish, made her by turns long for and dread the arrival at herjourney's end.

  A light touch on her shoulder, and she turned to find her young mistressat her side.

  "My poor old mammy, I bring you news you will be sorry to hear," saidElsie, seating herself upon the ample lap, and laying her arm across thebroad shoulders.

  "What dat, honey?"

  "We start to-morrow for Viamede; papa has sent John to engage our passageon the steamer."

  "Dat all, darlin'?" queried Chloe, with a sigh of relief, "if we's got togo, might's well go quick an' hab it ober."

  "Well, I'm glad you take so sensible a view of it," remarked Elsie,relieved in her turn; "and I hope you will find much less pain and morepleasure than you expect in going back to the old home."

  The next morning, as Mr. Dinsmore and his daughter sat upon the deck ofthe steamer, enjoying the sunlight, the breeze, and the dancing of thewater, having cleared their port and gotten fairly out into the gulf, astartling incident occurred.

  Chloe stood at a respectful distance, leaning over the side of the vessel,watching the play of the wheel and the rainbow in the spray that fell inshowers at its every revolution. An old negro busied about the deck; drewnear and addressed her:

  "Well, auntie, you watchin' dat ole wheel dar? Fust time you trable on disboat, eh?"

  Chloe started at the sound of the voice, turned suddenly round and facedthe speaker, her features working with emotion: one moment of earnestscrutiny on the part of both, and with a wild cry, "Aunt Chloe! my olewoman," "Uncle Joe! it can't be you," they rushed into each other's arms,and hung about each other's neck, weeping and sobbing like two children.

  "Papa! what is it?" exclaimed Elsie, greatly surprised at the littlescene.

  "Her husband, no doubt: he's too old to be a son."

  "Oh, how glad, how glad I am!" and Elsie started to her feet, her eyesfull of tears, and her sweet face sparkling all over with sympathetic joy."Papa, I shall buy him! they must never be parted again till death comesbetween."

  A little crowd had already gathered about the excited couple, every one ondeck hurrying to the spot, eager to learn the cause of the tumult of joyand grief into which the two seemed to have been so suddenly thrown.

  Mr. Dinsmore rose, and giving his arm to Elsie, led
her towards thethrong, saying in answer to her last remark, "Better act through me, then,daughter, or you will probably be asked two or three prices."

  "O papa, yes; please attend to it for me--only--only I must have him, fordear old mammy's sake, at whatever cost."

  The crowd opened to the lady and gentleman as they drew near.

  "My poor old mammy, what is it? whom have you found?" asked Elsie.

  But Chloe was speechless with a joy so deep that it wore the aspect of analmost heart-breaking sorrow. She could only cling with choking sobs toher husband's arm. "What's all this fuss, Uncle Joe?" queried the captain."Let go the old darkie; what's she to you?"

  "My wife, sah, dat I ain't seed for twenty years, sah," replied the oldman, trying to steady his trembling tones, obeying the order, but makingno effort to shake off Chloe's clinging hold.

  "Leave him for a little now, mammy dear; you shall never be parted again,"whispered Elsie in her nurse's ear. "Come with me, and let papa talk tothe captain."

  Chloe obeyed, silently following her young mistress to the other side ofthe deck, but ever and anon turning her head to look back with wet eyes atthe old wrinkled black face and white beard that to her were so dear, socharming. His eyes were following her with a look of longing, yearningaffection, and involuntarily he stretched out his arms towards her.

  "Off to your work, sir," ordered the captain, "and let's have no more ofthis nonsense."

  Old Joe moved away with a patient sigh.

  "The woman is your property, I presume, sir?" the captain remarked in arespectful tone, addressing Mr. Dinsmore.

  "Yes, my daughter's, which amounts to the same thing," that gentlemanreplied in a tone of indifference; then changing the subject, made someinquiries about the speed and safety of the boat, the length of her trips,etc.

  The captain answered pleasantly, showing pride in his vessel. Then theyspoke of other things: the country, the crops, the weather.

  "Sit down, mammy," said Elsie pityingly, as they reached the settee whereshe and her father had been sitting; "you are trembling so you canscarcely stand."

  "O darlin', dat's true 'nuff, I'se mos' ready to drop," she saidtremulously, coming down heavily upon a trunk that stood close at hand."Oh, de good Lord hab bring me face to face wid my ole Uncle Joe; oh, Ineber 'spected to see him no more in dis wicked world. But dey'll take 'imoff again an' dis ole heart'll break," she added, with a bursting sob.

  "No, no, mammy, you shall have him, if money can accomplish it."

  "You buy 'im, darlin'? Oh, your ole mammy can neber t'ank you 'nuff!" anda low, happy laugh mingled with the choking sobs. "But dey'll ask heaps obmoney."

  "You shall have him, let the price be what it will," was Elsie'sassurance. "See papa is bargaining with the captain now, for they look atUncle Joe as they talk."

  Chloe regarded them with eager interest; yes, they were looking at UncleJoe, and evidently speaking of him.

  "By the way," Mr. Dinsmore remarked carelessly, "does Uncle Joe belong toyou? or is he merely a hired hand?"

  "He's my property, sir."

  "Would you like to sell?"

  "I am not anxious; he's a good hand, faithful and honest: quite areligious character in fact," he concluded with a sneer; "overshoots themark in prayin and psalm-singing. But do you want to buy?"

  "Well yes; my daughter is fond of her old mammy, and for her sake would bewilling to give a reasonable sum. What do you ask?"

  "Make me an offer."

  "Five hundred dollars."

  "Five hundred? ridiculous! he's worth twice that."

  "I think not, he is old--not far from seventy and will soon be past workand only a burden and expense. My offer is a good one."

  "Make it seven hundred and I'll take it."

  Mr. Dinsmore considered a moment. "That is too high," he said at length,"but for the sake of making two poor creatures happy, I will give it."

  "Cash down?"

  "Yes, a check on a New Orleans bank."

  "Please walk down into the cabin then, sir, and we'll conclude thebusiness at once."

  In a few moments Mr. Dinsmore returned to his daughter's side, and placingthe receipted bill of sale in her hands, asked, "Have I given too much?"

  "Oh, no, papa, no indeed! I should have given a thousand without amoment's hesitation, if asked it--five, ten thousand, if need be, ratherthan have them parted again," she exclaimed, the bright tears shining inher eyes. "Mammy, my poor old mammy, Uncle Joe belongs to me now, and youcan have him always with you as long as the Lord spares your lives."

  "Now bress de Lord!" cried the old woman devoutly, raising her streamingeyes and clasped hands to heaven; "de good Lord dat hears de prayers obHis chilen's cryin' to Him when dere hearts is oberwhelmed!"

  "Go break the news to Uncle Joe, mammy," said Elsie; "see, yonder hestands looking so eager and wistful."

  Chloe hurried to his side, spoke a few rapid words; there was anotherlong, clinging, tearful embrace, and they hastened to their master andmistress to pour out their thanks and blessings upon them, mingled withpraises and fervent thanksgivings to the Giver of all good.

  The joy and gratitude of the poor old couple were very sweet, verydelightful to Elsie, and scarcely less so to her father.

  "Mammy dear, I never saw you wear so happy a face," Elsie said, as Chloereturned to her after an hour or two spent in close conversation with hernewly recovered spouse.

  "Ah, honey, your ole mammy tinks she neber so glad in all her life!" criedthe poor old creature, clasping her hands together in an ecstasy of joyand gratitude while the big tears shone in her eyes. "I'se got ole UncleJoe back agin, an' he not de same, he bettah man, Christian man. He say,'Aunt Chloe we uns trabble de same road now, honey: young Joe proud,angry, swearing drinkin' boy, your Ole Joe he lub de Lord an' try to sarveHim wid all he might. And de Lord good Massa. De debbil berry bad one.'"

  "Dear mammy, I am very glad for you; I think nothing else could have madeyou so happy."

  Chloe, weeping again for joy, went on to tell her young mistress thatUncle Joe had discovered a grandchild in New Orleans, Dinah by name,waiting-maid in a wealthy family.

  "But how is that, mammy? Papa and I thought all your children died young."

  "No, darlin', when Massa Grayson buy me in New Orleans, an' de oddergentleman buy Uncle Joe, we hab little girl four years ole, an' de olemissus keep her," sobbed Chloe, living over again the agony of theparting, "an' Dinah her chile."

  "Mammy, if money will buy her, you shall have her, too," said Elsieearnestly.

  The remainder of the short voyage was a happy time to the whole of ourlittle party, Chloe, with her restored husband by her side, now lookingforward to the visit to Viamede with almost unmingled pleasure.

  As they passed up the bay, entered Teche Bayou and pressed on, threadingtheir way through lake and lakelet, past plain and forest, plantation andswamp, Elsie exclaimed again and again at the beauty of the scenery. Coolshady dells carpeted with the rich growth of flowers, miles upon miles oflawns as smoothly shaven, as velvety green and as nobly shaded bymagnificent oaks and magnolias, as any king's demesne; lordly villaspeering through groves of orange trees, tall white, sugar-houses and thelong rows of cabins of the laborers; united to form a panorama ofsurpassing loveliness.

  "Is Viamede as lovely as that, papa?" Elsie would ask, as they steamedpast one fine residence after another.

  "Quite," he would reply with a smile, at length adding, "There is not amore beautiful or valuable estate in the country; as you may judge foryourself, for this is it."

  "This, papa? Oh it is lovely, lovely! and everything in such perfectorder," she cried delightedly as they swept on past a large sugar-houseand an immense orange orchard, whose golden fruit and glossy leaves shonebrightly in the slanting rays of the nearly setting sun, to a lawn aslarge, as thickly carpeted with smoothly shaven grass and many-huedflowers, and as finely shaded with giant oaks, graceful magnolias, andgroves of orange trees, as any they had passed. The house--a grand
oldmansion with spacious rooms, wide cool halls and corridors--was now infull view, now half concealed by the trees and shrubbery.

  The boat rounded to at a little pier opposite the dwelling, and in anothermoment our friends had landed, and leaving the servants to attend to thebaggage were walking on towards the house.