CHAPTER IX.
There's not a look, a word of thine My soul hath e'er forgot; Thou ne'er hast bid a ringlet shine, Nor given thy locks one graceful twine, Which I remember not.
--MOORE.
The clock on the stairway was just striking nine, as some one tappedlightly on the door of Elsie's room, leading into the hall. Chloe roseand opened it. "Dat you, Scip?"
"Yes, Aunt Chloe; de missis say breakop's is ready, an' will MissDinsmore please for to come if she's ready. We don't ring de bell fearwakin' up de odder young ladies an' gemmen."
Elsie had been up and dressed for the last hour, which she had spentin reading her Bible; a book not less dear and beautiful in her esteemnow than it was in the days of her childhood. She rose and followedScip to the dining-room, where she found the older members of thefamily already assembled, and about to sit down to the table.
"Ah, my dear, good-morning," said Mrs. Carrington; "I was sure youwould be up and dressed: but the others were so late getting to bedthat I mean they shall be allowed to sleep as long as they will. Ah!and here comes Herbert, too. We have quite a party after all."
"I should think you would need a long nap this morning more than anyone else," Elsie said, addressing Herbert.
"No," he answered, coloring. "I took advantage of my semi-invalidism,and retired very shortly after you left us."
"You must not think it is usual for us to be quite so late on Sundaymorning, Elsie," observed Mr. Carrington as he sent her her plate,"though I'm afraid we are hardly as early risers, even on ordinaryoccasions, as you are at the Oaks. I don't think it's a good plan tohave Saturday-night parties," he added, looking across the table athis wife.
"No," she said lightly; "but we must blame it all on the birthday, forcoming when it did. And though we are late, we shall still be in timeto get to church. Elsie, will you go with us?"
"In the carriage with mother and me?" added Herbert.
Elsie, had she consulted her own inclination merely, would havegreatly preferred to ride her pony, but seeing the eager look inHerbert's eyes, she answered smilingly that she should accept theinvitation with pleasure, if there was a seat in the carriage which noone else cared to occupy.
"There will be plenty of room, my dear," said Mr. Carrington; "fatherand mother always go by themselves, driving an ancient mare we callold Bess, who is so very quiet and slow that no one else can bear toride behind her; and the boys and I either walk or ride our horses."
It was time to set out almost immediately upon leaving the table. Theyhad a quiet drive through beautiful pine woods, heard an excellentgospel sermon, and returned by another and equally beautiful route.
Elsie's mind was full of the truth to which she had been listening,and she had very little to say. Mrs. Carrington and Herbert, too, wereunusually silent; the latter feeling it enjoyment enough just to sitby Elsie's side. He had known and loved her from their very earlychildhood; with a love that had grown and strengthened year by year.
"You seem much fatigued, Herbert," his mother said to him, as aservant assisted him from the carriage, and up the steps of theveranda. "I am almost sorry you went."
"Oh, no, mother, I'm not at all sorry," he answered cheerfully; "Ishall have to spend the rest of the day on my couch, but that sermonwas enough to repay me for the exertion it cost me to go to hear it."Then he added in an undertone to Elsie, who stood near, looking at himwith pitying eyes, "I shan't mind having to lie still if you will giveme your company for even a part of the time."
"Certainly you shall have it, if it will be any comfort to you," sheanswered, with her own sweet smile.
"You must not be too exacting towards Elsie, my son," said his mother,shaking up his pillows for him, and settling him comfortably on them;"she is always so ready to sacrifice herself for others that she wouldnot, I fear, refuse such a request, however much it might cost her togrant it. And no doubt she will want to be with the other girls."
"Yes, it was just like my selfishness to ask it, Elsie, and neverthink how distasteful it might be to you. I take it all back," hesaid, blushing, but with a wistful look in his eyes that she couldnever have withstood, had she wished to do so.
"It's too late for that, since I have already accepted," she said withan arch look as she turned away. "But don't worry yourself about me; Ishall follow my own inclination in regard to the length of my visit,making it very short if I find your society irksome or disagreeable."
The other girls were promenading on the upper veranda in full dinnerdress.
Carrie hailed Elsie in a lively tone. "So you've been to church, likea good Christian, leaving us three lazy sinners taking our ease athome. We took our breakfasts in bed, and have only just finished ourtoilets."
"Well, and why shouldn't we?" said Enna; "we don't profess to besaints."
"No, I just said we were sinners. But don't think too ill of us,Elsie, it was so late--or rather early--well on into the smallhours--when we retired, that a long morning nap became a necessity."
"I don't pretend to judge you, Carrie," Elsie answered gently, "itis not for me to do so; and I acknowledge that though I retired muchearlier than you, I slept a full hour past my usual time for rising."
"You'll surely have to do penance for that," sneered Enna.
"No, she shan't," said Lucy, putting her arm around her friend'sslender waist. "Come, promenade with me till the dinner-bell rings,the exercise will do you good."
The lively chat of the girls seemed to our heroine so unsuited tothe sacredness of the day that she rejoiced in the excuse Herbert'sinvitation gave her for withdrawing herself from their society for thegreater part of the afternoon. She found him alone, lying on his sofa,apparently asleep; but at the sound of her light footstep he openedhis eyes and looked up with a joyous smile. "I'm so glad to see you!how good of you to come!" he cried delightedly. "It's abominablyselfish of me, though. Don't let me keep you from having a good timewith the rest."
"The Sabbath is hardly the day for what people usually mean by a goodtime, is it?" she said, taking possession of a low rocking-chair thatstood by the side of his couch.
"No, but it is the day of days for real good, happy times; everythingis so quiet and still that it is easier than on other days to liftone's thoughts to God and Heaven. Oh, Elsie, I owe you a great debt ofgratitude, that I can never repay."
"For what, Herbert?"
"Ah, don't you know it was you who first taught me the sweetness ofcarrying all my trials and troubles to Jesus? Years ago, when we werevery little children, you told me what comfort and happiness you foundin so doing, and begged me to try it for myself."
"And you did?"
"Yes, and have continued to do so ever since."
"And that is what enables you to be so patient and uncomplaining."
"If I am. But ah! you don't know the dreadfully rebellious feelingsthat sometimes will take possession of me, especially when, afterthe disease has seemed almost eradicated from my system, it suddenlyreturns to make me as helpless and full of pain as ever. Nobody knowshow hard it is to endure it; how weary I grow of life; how unendurablyheavy my burden seems."
"Yes, He knows," she murmured softly. "In all their afflictions He wasafflicted; and the angel of His presence saved them."
"Yes, He is touched with the feeling of our infirmities. Oh, how sweetand comforting it is!"
They were silent for a moment; then turning to her, he asked, "Areyou ever afraid that your troubles and cares are too trifling forHis notice? that you will weary and disgust Him with your continualcoming?"
"I asked papa about that once, and I shall never forget the tender,loving look he gave me as he said: 'Daughter, do I ever seem to feelthat anything which affects your comfort or happiness one way or theother, is too trifling to interest and concern me?' 'Oh, no, no,papa,' I said; 'you have often told me you would be glad to know thatI had not a thought or feeling concealed from you; and you always seemto like to have me come to you with every little thing that makes meeither glad or
sorry.' 'I am, my darling,' he answered, 'just becauseyou are so very near and dear to me; and what does the Bible tell us?"Like as a father pitieth his children, so the Lord pitieth them thatfear Him!"'"
"Yes," said Herbert, musingly. "Then that text somewhere in Isaiahabout His love being greater than a mother's for her little helplessbabe."
"And what Jesus said: 'Are not two sparrows sold for a farthing? andnot one of them shall fall to the ground without your Father. But thevery hairs of your head are all numbered. Fear ye not therefore, yeare of more value than many sparrows.' And then the command: 'Ineverything by prayer and supplication, with thanksgiving let yourrequests be made known unto God.' Papa reminded me, too, of God'sinfinite wisdom and power, of the great worlds, countless in number,that He keeps in motion--the sun and planets of many solar systemsbesides our own--and then the myriads upon myriads of tiny insectsthat crowd earth, air, and water; God's care and providence ever overthem all. Oh, one does not know how to take it in! one cannot realizethe half of it. God does not know the distinctions that we do betweengreat and small, and it costs Him no effort to attend at one and thesame time, to all His creatures and all their affairs."
"No, that is true. Oh, how great and how good He is! and how sweetto know of His goodness and love; to feel that he hears and answersprayer! I would not give that up for perfect health and vigor, and allthe wealth of the world beside."
"I think I would give up everything else first; and oh, I am so gladfor you, Herbert," she said softly.
Then they opened their Bibles and read several chapters together,verse about, pausing now and then to compare notes, as to theirunderstanding of the exact meaning of some particular passage, or tolook out a reference, or consult a commentary.
"I'm excessively tired of the house; do let's take a walk," said Enna,as they stood or sat about the veranda after tea.
"Do you second the motion, Miss Howard?" asked Harry.
"Yes," she said, rising and taking his offered arm. "Elsie, you'll gotoo?"
"Oh, there's no use in asking her!" cried Enna. "She is much too goodto do anything pleasant on Sunday."
"Indeed! I was not aware of that." And Harry shrugged his shoulders,and threw a comical look at Elsie. "What is your objection to pleasantthings, Miss Dinsmore? To be quite consistent you should object toyourself."
Elsie smiled. "Enna must excuse me for saying that she makes a slightmistake; for while it is true my conscience would not permit me to gopleasuring on the Sabbath, yet it does not object to many things thatI find very pleasant."
"Such as saying your prayers, reading the Bible, and going to church?"
"Yes. Enna; those are real pleasures to me."
"But to come to the point, will you walk with us?" asked Lucy.
"Thank you, no; not to-night. But please don't mind me. I have noright, and don't presume to decide such questions for anyone butmyself."
"Then, if you'll excuse us, we'll leave mamma and Herbert to entertainyou for a short time."
The short time proved to be two hours or more, and long before thereturn of the little party, Mrs. Carrington went into the house,leaving the two on the veranda alone.
They sang hymns together for a while, then fell to silent musing.Herbert was the first to speak. He still lay upon his sofa; Elsiesitting near, her face at that moment upturned to the sky, where thefull moon was shining, and looking wondrous sweet and fair in thesoft silvery light. Her thoughts seemed far away, and she started andturned quickly toward him as he softly breathed her name.
"Oh, Elsie, this has been such a happy day to me! What joy, whatbliss, if we could be always together!"
"If you were only my brother! I wish you were, Herbert."
"No, no, I do not; for I would be something much nearer and dearer.Oh, Elsie, if you only would!" he went on, speaking very fast andexcitedly. "You thought I was joking last night, but I was not, I wasin earnest; never more so in my life. Oh, do you think you could likeme, Elsie?"
"Why, yes, Herbert; I do, and always have ever since we first becameacquainted."
"No, I didn't mean like, I meant love. Elsie, could you love me--loveme well enough to marry me?"
"Why, Herbert; what an idea!" she stammered, her face flushing visiblyin the moonlight. "You don't know how you surprise me; surely we areboth too young to be thinking of such things. Papa says I am not evento consider myself a young lady for three or four years yet. I'mnothing but a child. And you, Herbert, are not much older."
"Six months; but that's quite enough difference. And your fatherneedn't object on the score of our youth. You are as old now as I'vebeen told your mother was when he married her, and another year willmake me as old as he was. And your Aunts Louisa and Lora were bothengaged before they were sixteen. It's not at all uncommon for girlsin this part of the country to marry before they are that old. But Iknow I'm not half good enough for you, Elsie. A king might be proud towin you for his bride, and I'm only a poor, good-for-nothing cripple,not worth anybody's acceptance." And he turned away his face, withsomething that sounded very like a sob.
Elsie's kind heart was touched. "No, Herbert, you must not talk so.You are a dear, good, noble fellow, worthy of any lady in the land,"she said, half playfully, half tenderly and laying her little softwhite hand over his mouth.
He caught it in his and pressed it passionately to his lips, thereholding it fast. "Oh, Elsie, if it were only mine to keep!" he cried,"I'd be the happiest fellow in the world."
She looked at his pale, thin face, worn with suffering, into his eyesso full of passionate entreaty; thought what a dear lovable fellow hehad always been, and forgot herself entirely--forgot everything butthe desire to relieve and comfort him, and make him happy.
"Only tell me that you care for me, darling, and that you are willingsome day to belong to me! only give me a little hope; I shall die ifyou don't!"
"I do care for you, Herbert; I would do anything in my power to makeyou happy."
"Then I may call you my own! Oh, darling, God bless you for yourgoodness!"
But the clock was striking nine, and with the sound, a suddenrecollection came to Elsie. "It is my bed-time, and--and, Herbert, itwill all have to be just as papa says. I belong to him, and cannotgive myself away without his permission. Good-night." She hastilywithdrew the hand he still held, and was gone ere he had time toreply.
"What had she done--something of which papa would highly disapprove?Would he be very much vexed with her?" Elsie asked herselfhalf-tremblingly, as she sat passively under her old mammy's hands;for her father's displeasure was the one thing she dreaded above allothers.
She was just ready for bed when a light tap on the door was followedby the entrance of Mrs. Carrington.
"I wish to see your young mistress alone for a few moments, AuntChloe," she said, and the faithful creature went from the room atonce.
Mrs. Carrington threw her arms around Elsie, folded her in close,loving embrace, and kissed her fondly again and again, "My dear child,how happy you have made me!" she whispered at last. "Herbert has toldme all. Dear boy, he could not keep such good news from his mother.I know of nothing that could have brought me deeper joy andthankfulness, for I have always had a mother's love for you."
Elsie felt bewildered, almost stunned. "I--I'm afraid you--he hasmisunderstood me; it--it must be as papa says," she stammered; "Icannot decide it for myself, I have no right."
"Certainly, my dear, that is all very right, very proper; parentsshould always be consulted in these matters. But your papa lovesyou too well to raise any objection when he sees that your heart isinterested. And Herbert is worthy of you, though his mother says it;he is a noble, true-hearted fellow, well-educated, handsome, talented,polished in manners, indeed all that anybody could ask, if he were butwell; and we do not despair of seeing him eventually quite restoredto health. But I am keeping you up, and I know that your papa isvery strict and particular about your observance of his rules; sogood-night." And, with another caress, she left her.
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p; Thought was very busy in Elsie's brain as she laid her head upon herpillow. It was delightful to have given such joy and happiness toHerbert and his mother. Lucy, too, she felt sure would be very gladto learn that they were to be sisters. But her own papa, how would hefeel--what would he say? Only the other day he had reminded her howentirely she belonged to him--that no other had the slightest claimupon her, and as he spoke, the clasp of his arms seemed to say that hewould defy the whole world to take her from him. No, he would nevergive her up; and somehow she was not at all miserable at the thought;but on the contrary it sent a thrill of joy to her heart; it was sosweet to be so loved and cherished by him, "her own dear, dear papa!"
But then another thing came to her remembrance; his pity for poorsuffering Herbert; his expressed willingness to do anything he couldto make him happy--and again she doubted whether he would accept orreject the boy's suit for her hand.
Carrie and Enna were to leave at an early hour on Monday morning.They came into Elsie's room for a parting chat while waiting for theringing of the breakfast bell; so the three went down together toanswer its summons, and thus she was spared the necessity of enteringthe dining room alone--an ordeal she had really dreaded; a strange andpainful shyness toward the whole family at Ashlands having suddenlycome over her. She managed to conceal it pretty well, but carefullyavoided meeting Herbert's eye, or those of his parents.
The girls left directly on the conclusion of the meal, and having seenthem off, Elsie slipped away to her own room. But Lucy followed heralmost immediately, fairly wild with delight at the news Herbert hadjust been giving her.
"Oh, you darling!" she cried, hugging her friend with all her might."I never was so glad in all my life! To think that I'm to have you fora sister! I could just eat you up!"
"I hope you won't," said Elsie, laughing and blushing, as she returnedthe embrace as heartily as it was given. "But we must not be too sure;I'm not at all certain of papa's consent."
"No, I just expect he'll object to Herbie on account of his lameness,and his ill health. I don't think we ought to blame him if he doeseither." And Lucy suddenly sobered down to more than her ordinarygravity. "Ah, I forgot," she said, a moment after; "Herbert begs thatyou will come down and let him talk with you a little if you are notparticularly engaged."
Elsie answering that she had nothing to do, her time was quite athis disposal, the two tripped downstairs, each with an arm aboutthe other's waist, as they had done so often in the days of theirchildhood.
They found Herbert on the veranda, not lying down, but seated on hissofa. "You are better this morning?" Elsie said with a glad look upinto his face, as he rose, leaning on his crutch, and gave her theother hand.
"Yes, thank you, much better. Joy has proved so great a cordial that Ibegin to hope it may work a complete cure." He drew her to a seat byhis side, and Lucy considerately went away and left them alone.
"You have not changed your mind, Elsie?" His tone was low and halftremulous in its eagerness.
"No, Herbert; but it all rests with papa, you know."
"I hardly dare ask him for you, it seems like such presumption in a--acripple like me."
"Don't say that, Herbert. Would you love me less if I should becomelame or ill?"
"No, no, never! but I couldn't bear to have any such calamity comeupon you. I can hardly bear that you should have a lame husband. Thethought of it makes my trial harder to bear than ever."
"It is God's will, and we must not fight against it," she said softly.
They conversed for some time longer. He was very anxious to gain Mr.Dinsmore's consent to their engagement, yet shrank from asking it,fearing an indignant refusal; most of all, he dreaded a personalinterview; and, but ill able to take the ride to the Oaks, it wasfinally decided between them that he should make his application byletter, doing so at once.
A servant was summoned to bring him his writing materials, and Elsieleft him to his trying task, while she and Lucy and Harry mountedtheir horses and were away for a brisk, delightful ride through thewoods and over the hills.
"It's gone, Elsie," Herbert whispered, when she came down dressed fordinner. "I wrote it twice; it didn't suit me then, but my strength wasquite exhausted, so it had to go. I hope the answer will come soon,but oh, I shall be almost afraid to open it."
"Don't feel so; papa is very good and kind. He pities you so much,too," and she repeated what he had said about being willing to doanything he could for him.
Herbert's face grew bright with hope as he listened. "And do you thinkhe'll answer at once?" he asked.
"Yes, papa is always very prompt and decided; never keeps one long insuspense."
Mr. Carrington met our heroine at the dinner-table with such a bright,glad smile, and treated her in so kind and fatherly a manner that shefelt sure he knew all, and was much pleased with the prospect beforethem. But she was afraid Harry did not like it--did not want her for asister. He was usually very gay and talkative, full of fun and frolic.He had been so during their ride, but now his manner seemed strangelyaltered; he was moody and taciturn, almost cross.
Elsie's Girlhood Page 9