ELSIE'S GIRLHOOD
A SEQUEL TO
"ELSIE DINSMORE" AND "ELSIE'S HOLIDAYS AT ROSELANDS"
BY
MARTHA FINLEY
1872
"Oh! time of promise, hope, and innocence, Of trust, and love, andhappy ignorance! Whose every dream is heaven, in whose fair joyExperience yet has thrown no black alloy."
--THOUGHTS OF A RECLUSE
PREFACE
Some years have now elapsed since my little heroine "ELSIE DINSMORE"made her debut into the great world. She was sent out with many ananxious thought regarding the reception that might await her there.But she was kindly welcomed, and such has been the favor shown herever since that Publishers and Author have felt encouraged to preparea new volume in which will be found the story of those years that havecarried Elsie on from childhood to womanhood--the years in whichher character was developing, and mind and body were growing andstrengthening for the real work and battle of life.
May my readers who have admired and loved her as a child find herstill more charming in her fresh young girlhood; may she prove to alla pleasant companion and friend; and to those of them now treading thesame portion of life's pathway a useful example also, particularly inher filial love and obedience.
M.F.
CHAPTER I.
It is a busy, talking world.
--ROWE.
"I think I shall enjoy the fortnight we are to spend here, papa; itseems such a very pleasant place," Elsie remarked, in a tone of greatsatisfaction.
"I am glad you are pleased with it, daughter," returned Mr. Dinsmore,opening the morning paper, which John had just brought up.
They--Mr. Dinsmore and Elsie, Rose and Edward Allison--were occupyingvery comfortable quarters in a large hotel at one of our fashionablewatering-places. A bedroom for each, and a private parlor for thejoint use of the party, had been secured in advance, and late thenight before they had arrived and taken possession.
It was now early in the morning, Elsie and her papa were in his room,which was in the second story and opened upon a veranda, shaded bytall trees, and overlooking a large grassy yard at the side of thebuilding. Beyond were green fields, woods, and hills.
"Papa," said Elsie, gazing longingly upon them, as she stood by theopen window, "can't we take a walk?"
"When Miss Rose is ready to go with us."
"May I run to her door and ask if she is?--and if she isn't, may Iwait for her out here on the veranda?"
"Yes."
She skipped away, but was back again almost immediately. "Papa, whatdo you think? It's just too bad!"
"What is too bad, daughter? I think I never before saw so cross a lookon my little girl's face," he said, peering at her over the top of hisnewspaper. "Come here, and tell me what it is all about."
She obeyed, hanging her head and blushing. "I think I have some reasonto be cross, papa," she said; "I thought we were going to have such adelightful time here, and now it is all spoiled. You could never guesswho has the rooms just opposite ours; on the other side of the hall."
"Miss Stevens?"
"Why, papa; did you know she was here?"
"I knew she was in the house, because I saw her name in the hotel booklast night when I went to register ours."
"And it just spoils all our pleasure."
"I hope not, daughter. I think she will hardly annoy you when you areclose at my side; and that is pretty much all the time, isn't it?"
"Yes, papa, and I'll stick closer than ever to you if that will makeher let me alone," she cried, with a merry laugh, putting her armround his neck and kissing him two or three times.
"Ah, now I have my own little girl again," he said, drawing her to hisknee and returning her caresses with interest: "But there, I hear MissRose's step in the hall. Run to mammy and have your hat put on."
Miss Stevens' presence proved scarcely less annoying to Elsie than thechild had anticipated. She tried to keep out of the lady's way, but itwas quite impossible. She could scarcely step out on the veranda, gointo the parlor, or take a turn in the garden by herself, but ina moment Miss Stevens was at her side fawning upon and flatteringher--telling her how sweet and pretty and amiable she was, how dearlyshe loved her, and how much she thought of her papa too: he was sohandsome and so good; everybody admired him and thought him such afine-looking gentleman, so polished in his manners, so agreeable andentertaining in conversation.
Then she would press all sorts of dainties upon the little girlin such a way that it was next to impossible to decline them, andoccasionally even went so far as to suggest improvements, or ratheralterations, in her dress, which she said was entirely too plain.
"You ought to have more flounces on your skirts, my dear," sheremarked one day. "Skirt flounced to the waist are so very pretty anddressy, and you would look sweetly in them, but I notice you don'twear them at all. Do ask your papa to let you get a new dress and haveit made so; I am sure he would consent, for any one can see that he isvery fond of you. He doesn't think of it; we can't expect gentlemento notice such little matters; you ought to have a mamma to attendto such things for you. Ah! if you were my child, I would dress yousweetly, you dear little thing!"
"Thank you, ma'am, I daresay you mean to be very kind," replied Elsie,trying not to look annoyed, "but I don't want a mamma, since my owndear mother has gone to heaven; papa is enough for me, and I like theway he dresses me. He always buys my dresses himself and says how theyare to be made. The dressmaker wanted to put more flounces on, butpapa didn't want them and neither did I. He says he doesn't like tosee little girls loaded with finery, and that my clothes shall be ofthe best material and nicely made, but neat and simple."
"Oh, yes; I know your dress is not cheap; I didn't mean that at all:it is quite expensive enough, and some of your white dresses arebeautifully worked; but I would like a little more ornament. You wearso little jewelry, and your father could afford to cover you with itif he chose. A pair of gold bracelets, like mine for instance, wouldbe very pretty, and look charming on your lovely white arms: thosepearl ones you wear sometimes are very handsome--any one could tellthat they are the real thing--but you ought to have gold ones too,with clasps set with diamonds. Couldn't you persuade your papa to buysome for you?"
"Indeed, Miss Stevens, I don't want them! I don't want anything butwhat papa chooses to buy for me of his own accord. Ah! there is MissRose looking for me, I must go," and the little girl, glad of anexcuse to get away, ran joyfully to her friend who had come to theveranda, where she and Miss Stevens had been standing, to tell herthat they were going out to walk, and her papa wished to take heralong.
Elsie went in to get her hat, and Miss Stevens came towards Rose,saying, "I think I heard you say you were going to walk; and Ibelieve, if you don't forbid me, I shall do myself the pleasure ofaccompanying you. I have just been waiting for pleasant company. Iwill be ready in one moment." And before Rose could recover from herastonishment sufficiently to reply she had disappeared through thehall door.
Elsie was out again in a moment, just as the gentlemen had joinedRose, who excited their surprise and disgust by a repetition of MissStevens' speech to her.
Mr. Dinsmore looked excessively annoyed, and Edward "pshawed, andwished her at the bottom of the sea."
"No, brother," said Rose, smiling, "you don't wish any such thing; onthe contrary, you would be the very first to fly to the rescue if yousaw her in danger of drowning."
But before there was time for anything more to be said Miss Stevenshad returned, and walking straight up to Mr. Dinsmore, she put her armthrough his, saying with a little laugh, and what was meant for avery arch expression, "You see I don't stand upon ceremony with oldfriends, Mr. Dinsmore. It isn't my way."
"No, Miss Stevens, I think it never was," he
replied, offering theother arm to Rose.
She was going to decline it on the plea that the path was too narrowfor three, but something in his look made her change her mind andaccept; and they moved on, while Elsie, almost ready to cry withvexation, fell behind with Edward Allison for an escort.
Edward tried to entertain his young companion, but was too muchprovoked at the turn things had taken to make himself very agreeableto any one; and altogether it was quite an uncomfortable walk: noone seeming to enjoy it but Miss Stevens, who laughed and talkedincessantly; addressing nearly all her conversation to Mr. Dinsmore,he answering her with studied politeness, but nothing more.
Miss Stevens had, from the first, conceived a great antipathy toRose, whom she considered a dangerous rival, and generally avoided,excepting when Mr. Dinsmore was with her; but she always interrupteda tete-a-tete between them when it was in her power to do so withoutbeing guilty of very great rudeness. This, and the covert sneers withwhich she often addressed Miss Allison had not escaped Mr. Dinsmore'snotice, and it frequently cost him quite an effort to treat MissStevens with the respectful politeness which he considered due to hersex and to the daughter of his father's old friend.
"Was it not too provoking, papa?" exclaimed Elsie, as she followed himinto his room on their return from their walk.
"What, my dear?"
"Why, papa, I thought we were going to have such a nice time, and shejust spoiled it all."
"She? who, daughter?"
"Why, papa, surely you know I mean Miss Stevens!"
"Then why did you not mention her name, instead of speaking of her asshe? That does not sound respectful in a child of your age, and I wishmy little girl always to be respectful to those older than herself.I thought I heard you the other day mention some gentleman's namewithout the prefix of Mr., and I intended to reprove you for it at thetime. Don't do it again."
"No, sir, I won't," Elsie answered with a blush. "But, papa," sheadded the next moment, "Miss Stevens does that constantly."
"That makes no difference, my daughter," he said gravely. "MissStevens is the very last person I would have you take for your model;the less you resemble her in dress, manners, or anything else, thebetter. If you wish to copy any one let it be Miss Allison, for she isa perfect lady in every respect."
Elsie looked very much pleased. "Yes, indeed, papa," she said, "Ishould be glad if I could be just like Miss Rose, she is always kindand gentle to everybody; even the servants, whom Miss Stevens ordersabout so crossly."
"Elsie!"
"What, papa?" she asked, blushing again, for his tone was reproving.
"Come here and sit on my knee; I want to talk to you. I am afraid mylittle daughter is growing censorious," he said, with a very gravelook as he drew her to his side. "You forget that we ought not tospeak of other people's faults."
"I will try not to do it any more, papa," she replied, the tearsspringing to her eyes; "but you don't know how very annoying MissStevens is. I have been near telling her several times that I did wishshe would let me alone."
"No, daughter, don't do that. You must behave in a lady-like mannerwhether she does or not. We must expect annoyances in this world, mychild; and must try to bear them with patience, remembering thatGod sends the little trials as well as the great, and that He hascommanded us to 'let patience have her perfect work.' I fear it is alack of the spirit of forgiveness that makes it so difficult for us tobear these trifling vexations with equanimity. And you must remembertoo, dear, that the Bible bids us be courteous, and teaches us totreat others as we ourselves would wish to be treated."
"I think you always remember the command to be courteous, papa," shesaid, looking affectionately into his face. "I was wondering all thetime how you could be so very polite to Miss Stevens; for I was quitesure you would rather not have had her along. And then, what right hadshe to take your arm without being asked?" and Elsie's face flushedwith indignation.
Her father laughed a little. "And thus deprive my little girl of herrights," he said, softly kissing the glowing cheek. "Ah! I doubt ifyou would have been angry had it been Miss Rose," he added, a littlemischievously.
"Oh, papa, you know Miss Rose would never have done such a thing!"exclaimed the little girl warmly.
"Ah! well, dear," he said in a soothing tone; "we won't talk any moreabout it. I acknowledge that I do not find Miss Stevens the mostagreeable company in the world, but I must treat her politely, andshow her a little attention sometimes; both because she is a lady andbecause her father once saved my father's life; for which I owe a debtof gratitude to him and his children."
"Did he, papa? I am sure it was very good of him, and I will try tolike Miss Stevens for that. But won't you tell me about it?"
"It was when they were both quite young men," said Mr. Dinsmore,"before either of them was married: they were skating together andyour grandfather broke through the ice, and would have been drowned,but for the courage and presence of mind of Mr. Stevens, who saved himonly by very great exertion, and at the risk of his own life."
A few days after this, Elsie was playing on the veranda, with severalother little girls. "Do you think you shall like your new mamma,Elsie?" asked one of them in a careless tone, as she tied on an apronshe had just been making for her doll, and turned it around to see howit fitted.
"My new mamma!" exclaimed Elsie, with unfeigned astonishment, droppingthe scissors with which she had been cutting paper dolls for some ofthe little ones. "What can you mean, Annie? I am not going to have anynew mamma."
"Yes, indeed, but you are though," asserted Annie positively; "for Iheard my mother say so only yesterday; and it must be so, for she MissStevens told it herself."
"Miss Stevens! and what does she know about it? what has she to dowith my papa's affairs?" asked Elsie indignantly, the color rushingover face, neck, and arms.
"Well, I should think she might know, when she is going to marry him,"returned the other, with a laugh.
"She isn't! it's false! my"--but Elsie checked herself and shut herteeth hard to keep down the emotion that was swelling in her breast.
"It's true, you may depend upon it," replied Annie; "everybody in thehouse knows it, and they are all talking about what a splendid matchMiss Stevens is going to make; and mamma was wondering if you knewit, and how you would like her; and papa said he thought Mr. Dinsmorewouldn't think much of her if he knew how she flirted and danced untilhe came, and now pretends not to approve of balls, just because hedoesn't."
Elsie made no reply, but dropping scissors, paper, and everything,sprang up and ran swiftly along the veranda, through the hall,upstairs, and without pausing to take breath, rushed into her father'sroom, where he sat quietly reading.
"Why, Elsie, daughter, what is the matter?" he asked in a tone ofsurprise and concern, as he caught sight of her flushed and agitatedface.
"Oh, papa, it's that hateful Miss Stevens; I can't bear her!" shecried, throwing herself upon his breast, and bursting into a fit ofpassionate weeping.
Mr. Dinsmore said nothing for a moment; but thinking tears would provethe best relief to her overwrought feelings, contented himself withsimply stroking her hair in a soothing way, and once or twice pressinghis lips gently to her forehead.
"You feel better now, dearest, do you not?" he asked presently, as sheraised her head to wipe away her tears.
"Yes, papa."
"Now tell me what it was all about."
"Miss Stevens does say such hateful things, papa!"
He laid his finger upon her lips. "Don't use that word again. It doesnot sound at all like my usually gentle sweet-tempered little girl."
"I won't, papa," she murmured, blushing and hanging her head. Thenhiding her face on his breast, she lay there for several minutesperfectly silent and still.
"What is my little girl thinking of?" he asked at length.
"How everybody talks about you, papa; last evening I was out on theveranda, and I heard John and Miss Stevens' maid, Phillis, talkingtogether. It was moonlight, you
know, papa," she went on, turning herface toward him again: "and they were out under the trees and John hadhis arm round her, and he was kissing her, and telling her how prettyshe was; and then they began talking about Miss Stevens and you, andJohn told Phillis that he reckoned you were going to marry her--"
"Who? Phillis?" asked Mr. Dinsmore, looking excessively amused.
"Oh, papa; no; you know I mean Miss Stevens," Elsie answered in a toneof annoyance.
"Well, dear, and what of it all?" he asked, soothingly. "I don't thinkthe silly nonsense of the servants need trouble you. John is a sadfellow, I know; he courts all the pretty colored girls wherever hegoes. I shall have to read him a serious lecture on the subject. Butit is very kind of you to be so concerned for Phillis."
"Oh, papa, don't!" she said, turning away her face. "Please don'ttease me so. You know I don't care for Phillis or John; but that isn'tall." And then she repeated what had passed between Annie and herself.
He looked a good deal provoked as she went on with her story; thenvery grave indeed. He was quite silent for a moment after she haddone. Then drawing her closer to him, he said tenderly, "My poorlittle girl, I am sorry you should be so annoyed; but you know it isnot true, daughter, and why need you care what other people think andsay?"
"I don't like them to talk so, papa! I can't bear to have them saysuch things about you!" she exclaimed indignantly.
He was silent again for a little; then said kindly, "I think I hadbetter take you away from these troublesome talkers. What do you sayto going home?"
"Oh, yes, papa, do take me home," she answered eagerly. "I wish wewere there now. I think it is the pleasantest place in the world andit seems such a long, long while since we came away. Let us startto-morrow, papa; can't we?"
"But you know you will have to leave Miss Rose."
"Ah! I forgot that," she said a little sadly; but brightening again,she asked: "Couldn't you invite her to go home with us and spend thewinter? Ah! papa, do! it would be so pleasant to have her."
"No, my dear, it wouldn't do," he replied with a grave shake of thehead.
"Why, papa?" she asked with a look of keen disappointment.
"You are too young to understand why," he said in the same grave tone,and then relapsed into silence; sitting there for some time strokingher hair in an absent way, with his eyes on the carpet.
At last he said, "Elsie!" in a soft, low tone that quite made thelittle girl start and look up into his face; for she, too, had been ina deep reverie.
"What, papa?" she asked, and she wondered to see how the color hadspread over his face, and how bright his eyes looked.
"I have been thinking," he said, in a half hesitating way, "thatthough it would not do to invite Miss Rose to spend the winter withus, it might do very nicely to ask her to come and live at the Oaks."
Elsie looked at him for a moment with a bewildered expression; thensuddenly comprehending, her face lighted up.
"Would you like it, dearest?" he asked; "or would you prefer to go onliving just as we have been, you and I together? I would consult yourhappiness before my own, for it lies very near my heart, my preciousone. I can never forgive myself for all I have made you suffer, andwhen you were restored to me almost from the grave, I made a vow to doall in my power to make your future life bright and happy."
His tones were full of deep feeling, and as he spoke he drew hercloser and closer to him and kissed her tenderly again and again.
"Speak, daughter, and tell me what you wish," he said, as she stillremained silent.
At last she spoke, and he bent down to catch the words. "Dear papa,"she whispered, "would it make you happy? and do you think mamma knows,and that she would like it?"
"Your mamma loves us both too well not to be pleased with anythingthat would add to our happiness," he replied gently.
"Dear papa, you won't be angry if I ask another question?'"'
"No, darling; ask as many as you wish."
"Then, papa, will I have to call her mamma? and do you think my ownmamma would like it?"
"If Miss Allison consents to take a mother's place to you, I am sureyour own mamma, if she could speak to you, would tell you she deservedto have the title; and it would hurt us both very much if you refusedto give it. Indeed, my daughter, I cannot ask her to come to us unlessyou will promise to do so, and to love and obey, her just as you dome. Will you?"
"I will try to obey her, papa; and I shall love her very dearly, for Ido already; but I can not love anybody quite so well as I love you, myown dear, dear father!" she said, throwing her arms around his neck.
He returned her caress, saying tenderly, "That is all I can ask,dearest; I must reserve the first place in your heart for myself."
"Do you think she will come, papa?" she asked anxiously.
"I don't know, daughter; I have not asked her yet. But shall I tellher that it will add to your happiness if she will be your mamma?"
"Yes, sir; and that I will call her mamma, and obey her and love herdearly. Oh, papa, ask her very soon, won't you?"
"Perhaps; but don't set your heart too much on it, for she may not bequite so willing to take such a troublesome charge as Miss Stevensseems to be," he said, returning to his playful tone.
Elsie looked troubled and anxious.
"I hope she will, papa," she said; "I think she might be very glad tocome and live with you; and in such a beautiful home, too."
"Ah! but everyone does not appreciate my society as highly as you do,"he replied, laughing and pinching her cheek; "and besides, you forgetabout the troublesome little girl. I have heard ladies say they wouldnot marry a man who had a child."
"But Miss Rose loves me, papa; I am sure she does," she said,flushing, and the tears starting to her eyes.
"Yes, darling, I know she does," he answered soothingly. "I am onlyafraid she loves you better than she does me."
A large party of equestrians were setting out from the hotel thatevening soon after tea, and Elsie, in company with several otherlittle girls, went out upon the veranda to watch them mount and rideaway. She was absent but a few moments from the parlor, where she hadleft her father, but when she returned to it he was not there. MissRose, too, was gone, she found upon further search, and though she hadnot much difficulty in conjecturing why she had thus, for the firsttime, been left behind, she could not help feeling rather lonely anddesolate.
She felt no disposition to renew the afternoon's conversation withAnnie Hart, so she went quietly upstairs to their private parlor andsat down to amuse herself with a book until Chloe came in from eatingher supper. Then the little girl brought a stool, and seating herselfin the old posture with her head in her nurse's lap, she drew hermother's miniature from her bosom, and fixing her eyes lovingly uponit, said, as she had done hundreds of times before: "Now, mammy,please tell me about my dear, dear mamma."
The soft eyes were full of tears; for with all her joy at the thoughtof Rose, mingled a strange sad feeling that she was getting fartheraway from that dear, precious, unknown mother, whose image had been,since her earliest recollection, enshrined in her very heart ofhearts.
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