Elsie's Womanhood

by Martha Finley

  CHAPTER TENTH.

  "At last I know thee--and my soul, From all thy arts set free, Abjures the cold consummate art Shrin'd as a soul in thee." --SARA J. CLARK.

  The rest of the winter passed quietly and happily with our friends at Ionand the Oaks, Mr. Travilla spending nearly half his time at the latterplace, and in rides and walks with Elsie, whom he now and then coaxed toIon for a call upon his mother.

  Their courtship was serene and peaceful: disturbed by no feverish heat ofpassion, no doubts and fears, no lovers' quarrels, but full of a deep,intense happiness, the fruit of their long and intimate friendship, theirfull acquaintance with, and perfect confidence in each other, and theirstrong love. Enna sneeringly observed that "they were more like some staidold married couple than a pair of lovers."

  Arthur made no confidant in regard to his late interview with Jackson;nothing more was heard or seen of the scoundrel, and gradually Elsie cameto the conclusion that Mr. Travilla, who occasionally rallied hergood-naturedly on the subject of her fright, had been correct in hisjudgment that it was either the work of imagination or of some practicaljoker.

  Arthur, on his part, thought that fear of the terrors he had held upbefore him would cause Jackson--whom he knew to be an arrant coward--torefrain from adventuring himself again in the neighborhood.

  But he miscalculated the depth of the man's animosity towards Mr.Travilla, which so exceeded his cowardice as at length to induce him toreturn and make another effort to destroy either the life of thatgentleman or his hopes of happiness; perhaps both.

  Elsie was very fond of the society of her dear ones, yet occasionallyfound much enjoyment in being alone, for a short season, with Nature or abook. A very happy little woman, as she had every reason to be, and fullof gratitude and love to the Giver of all good for His unnumberedblessings, she loved now and then to have a quiet hour in which to countthem over, as a miser does his gold, to return her heartfelt thanks, tellher best, her dearest Friend of all, how happy she was, and seek help fromHim to make a right use of each talent committed to her care.

  Seated in her favorite arbor one lovely spring day, with thoughts thusemployed, and eyes gazing dreamily upon the beautiful landscape spread outat her feet, she was startled from her reverie by some one suddenlystepping in and boldly taking a seat by her side.

  She turned her head. Could it be possible? Yes, it was indeed Tom Jackson,handsomely dressed and looking, to a casual observer, the gentleman shehad once believed him to be. She recognized him instantly.

  A burning blush suffused her face, dyeing even the fair neck and arms. Shespoke not a word, but rose up hastily with the intent to fly from hishateful presence.

  "Now don't, my darling, don't run away from me," he said, interceptingher. "I'm sure you couldn't have the heart, if you knew how I have livedfor years upon the hope of such a meeting: for my love for you, dearestElsie, has never lessened, the ardor of my passion has never cooled----"

  "Enough, sir," she said, drawing herself up, her eyes kindling andflashing as he had never thought they could; "how dare you insult me bysuch words, and by your presence here? Let me pass."

  "Insult you, Miss Dinsmore?" he cried, in affected surprise. "You were notwont, in past days, to consider my presence an insult, and I could neverhave believed fickleness a part of your nature. You are now of age, andhave a right to listen to my defense, and my suit for your heart andhand."

  "Are you mad? Can you still suppose me ignorant of your true character andyour history for years past? Know then that I am fully acquainted withthem; that I know you to be a lover of vice and the society of thevicious--a drunkard, profane, a gambler, and one who has stained his handswith the blood of a fellow-creature," she added with a shudder. "I prayGod you may repent and be forgiven; but you are not and can never beanything to me."

  "So with all your piety you forsake your friends when they get intotrouble," he remarked with a bitter sneer.

  "Friend of mine you never were," she answered quietly; "I know it was myfortune and not myself you really wanted. But though it were true thatyou loved me as madly and disinterestedly as you professed, had I knownyour character, never, _never_ should I have held speech with you, muchless admitted you to terms of familiarity--a fact which I look back uponwith the deepest mortification. Let me pass, sir, and never venture toapproach me again."

  "No you don't, my haughty miss! I'm not done with you yet," he exclaimedbetween his clenched teeth, and seizing her rudely by the arm as she triedto step past him. "So you're engaged to that fatherly friend of yours,that pious sneak, that deadly foe to me?"

  "Unhand me, sir!"

  "Not yet," he answered, tightening his grasp, and at the same time takinga pistol from his pocket. "I swear you shall never marry that man: promiseme on your oath that you'll not, or--I'll shoot you through the heart; theheart that's turned false to me. D'ye hear," and he held the muzzle of hispiece within a foot of her breast.

  Every trace of color fled from her face, but she stood like a marblestatue, without speech or motion of a muscle, her eyes looking straightinto his with firm defiance.

  "Do you hear?" he repeated, in a tone of exasperation, "speak! promisethat you'll never marry Travilla, or I'll shoot you in threeminutes--shoot you down dead on the spot, if I swing for it before night."

  "That will be as God pleases," she answered low and reverently; "you canhave no power at all against me except it be given you from above."

  "I can't, hey? looks like it; I've only to touch the trigger here, andyour soul's out o' your body. Better promise than die."

  Still she stood looking him unflinchingly in the eye; not a muscle moving,no sign of fear except that deadly pallor.

  "Well," lowering his piece, "you're a brave girl, and I haven't the heartto do it," he exclaimed in admiration. "I'll give up that promise; oncondition that you make another--that you'll keep all this a secret fortwenty-four hours, so I can make my escape from the neighborhood beforethey get after me with their bloodhounds."

  "That I promise, if you will be gone at once."

  "You'll not say a word to any one of having seen me, or suspecting I'mabout here?"

  "Not a word until the twenty-four hours are over."

  "Then good-bye. Your pluck has saved your life; but remember, I've notsaid I won't shoot him or your father, if chance throws them in my way,"he added, looking back over his shoulder with a malicious leer, as he leftthe arbor, then disappearing from sight among the trees and shrubberybeyond.

  Elsie's knees shook and trembled under her; she sank back into her seat,covering her face and bowing her head upon her lap, while she sent upsilent, almost agonizing petitions for the safety of those two soinexpressibly dear to her. Some moments passed thus, then she rose andhastened, with a quick nervous step, to the house. She entered herboudoir, and lay down upon a couch trembling in every fibre, every nervequivering with excitement. The shock had been terrible.

  "What de matter wid my chile? what ails you, honey?" asked Aunt Chloe,coming to her side full of concern.

  "I think one of my bad headaches is coming on, mammy. But oh, tell me, isMr. Travilla here?--and papa! where is he?"

  "Here daughter," his voice answered, close at hand, "and with a note foryou from Mr. Travilla, who has not shown himself to-day."

  She took it eagerly, but with a hand that trembled as if with suddenpalsy, while the eyes, usually so keen-sighted, saw only a blurred andconfused jumble of letters in place of the clear, legible charactersreally there.

  "I cannot see," she said, in a half-frightened tone, and pressing theother hand to her brow.

  "And you are trembling like an aspen leaf," he said, bending over her inserious alarm. "My child, when did this come on? and what has caused it?"

  "Papa, I cannot tell you now, or till to-morrow, at this hour; I willthen. But oh, papa dear, dear papa!" she cried, putting her arm about hisneck and bursting into hysterical weeping, "promise me, if you love mepromise me, that you
will not leave the house till I have told you. I amsick, I am suffering; you will stay by me? you will not leave me?"

  "My darling, I will do anything I can to relieve you, mentally orphysically," he answered in tones of tenderest love and concern. "I shallnot stir from the house, while to do so would increase your suffering. Iperceive there has been some villainy practised upon you, and a promiseextorted, which I shall not ask you to break; but rest assured, I shallkeep guard over my precious one."

  "And Mr. Travilla!" she gasped. "Oh, papa, if I only knew he was safe!"

  "Perhaps the note may set your mind at rest on that point. Shall I read itfor you?"

  "Yes, sir," she said, putting it into his hand with a slight blush, "henever writes what I should be ashamed or afraid to have my father see."

  It was but short, written merely to explain his absence, and dated from aneighboring plantation, where he had gone to assist in nursing a sickfriend whom he should not be able to leave for some days. There were wordsof deep, strong affection, but as she had foreseen, nothing that she needcare to have her father know or see.

  "Does not this news allay your fears for him?" Mr. Dinsmore askedtenderly.

  "Yes, papa," she answered, the tears streaming from her eyes. "Oh, howgood God is to me! I will trust Him, trust Him for you both, as well asmyself." She covered her face with her hands while shudder after shuddershook her whole frame.

  Mr. Dinsmore was much perplexed, and deeply concerned. "Shall I send forDr. Barton?" he asked.

  "No, no, papa! I am not ill; only my nerves have had a great, a terribleshock; they seem all unstrung, and my temples are throbbing with pain."

  "My poor, poor darling! strange that with all my care and watchfulness youshould have been subjected to such a trial. Some ruffian has been tryingto extort money from you, I presume, by threatened violence to yourself,Travilla, and me. Where were you?"

  "In my arbor, sir."

  "And alone?"

  "Yes, papa; I thought myself safe there."

  "I forbid you to go there or to any distance from the house, alone, again.You must always have some one within call, if not close at your side."

  "And my father knows I will obey him," she said, tremulously lifting hishand to her lips.

  He administered an anodyne to relieve the tortured nerves, then sittingdown beside her, passed his hand soothingly over hair and cheek, whilewith the other he held one of hers in loving, tender clasp. Neither spoke,and at length she fell asleep; yet not a sound, refreshing slumber, butdisturbed by starts and moans, and frequent wakings to see and feel thathe was still there. "Papa, don't go away; don't leave me!" was herconstant cry.

  "My darling, my precious one, I will not," was his repeated assurance; "Iwill stay with you while this trouble lasts."

  And all that day and night he never left her side, while Rose came andwent, full of anxiety and doing everything that could be done for thesufferer's relief.

  It was a night of unrest to them all; but morning found her free frompain, though weak and languid, and still filled with distress if herfather was absent for more than a few moments from her side. She inquiredof him at what hour she had come in the day before: then watched the timeand, as soon as released from her promise, told them all.

  Great was his indignation; and, determined that, if possible, the villainshould be apprehended and brought to justice, he sent word at once to themagistrates: a warrant was issued, and several parties were presently outin different directions in hot pursuit.

  But with the twenty-four hours' start Jackson had made good his escape,and the only advantage gained was the relief of knowing that he no longerinfested the neighborhood.

  "But when may he not return?" Elsie said with a shudder. "Papa, I tremblefor you, and for--Mr. Travilla."

  "I am far more concerned for you," he answered, gazing upon her pale facewith pitying, fatherly tenderness. "But let us cast this care, with allothers, upon our God. 'Thou wilt keep him in perfect peace whose mind isstayed on Thee; because he trusteth in Thee.'"