Elsie's Girlhood

by Martha Finley

  CHAPTER XVII.

  My heart has been like summer skies, When they are fair to view; But there never yet were hearts or skies Clouds might not wander through.

  --MRS. L.P. SMITH.

  Walter Dinsmore was doing well at college, studying hard, and keepinghimself out of bad company. In this last he might not have been sosuccessful but for his brother's assistance; for, though choosing hisown associates from among the dissolute and vile, Arthur resolutelyexerted himself to preserve this young brother from suchcontamination. "I've enough sins of my own to answer for, Wal," hewould say, sometimes almost fiercely, "and I won't have any ofyours added to 'em; nobody shall say I led you into bad company, orinitiated you into my own evil courses."

  For months Arthur's spirits had been very variable, his frequent fitsof gloom, alternating with unnatural gayety, exciting Walter's wonderand sympathy.

  "I cannot imagine what ails him," he said to himself again and again;for Arthur utterly refused to tell him the secret of his despondency.

  It had been almost constant since the receipt of Egerton's lastepistle, and Walter was debating in his own mind whether he ought notto speak of it in his next letter to their mother, when one night hewas wakened by a sudden blow from Arthur's hand, and started up tofind him rolling and tossing, throwing his arms about, and mutteringincoherently in the delirium of fever.

  It was the beginning of a very serious illness. It was pronouncedsuch by the physician called in by Walter at an early hour the nextmorning, and the boy sat down with a heavy heart to write the sadtidings to his parents.

  While doing so he was startled by hearing Arthur pronounce Elsie'sname in connection with words that seemed to imply that some dangerthreatened her. He rose and went to the bedside, asking, "What's wrongwith Elsie, Art?"

  "I say, Tom Jackson, she'll never take you. Horace won't consent."

  "I should think not, indeed!" muttered Walter. Then leaning over hisbrother, "Art, I say, Art! what is it all about? Has Tom Jackson goneto Lansdale?"

  No answer, save an inarticulate murmur that might be either assent ordissent.

  The doctor had promised to send a nurse and, as Walter now glancedabout the room, the thought occurred to him that it would seem verydisorderly to the woman. Arthur's clothes lay in a heap over the backof a chair, just as he had thrown them down on retiring.

  "I can at least hang these in the closet," thought Walter, picking upthe jacket.

  A letter fell from the pocket upon the floor.

  "Jackson's handwriting, I declare!" he exclaimed, with a start ofsurprise, as he stooped to pick it up. It was without an envelope,written in a bold, legible hand, and unintentionally he read the date,"Lansdale, Ohio, Aug. -- 185-," and farther down the page some partsof sentences connected with the "D---- family" ... "can't helpthemselves" ... "the girl loves me and believes in me."

  He glanced at the bed. Arthur's eyes were closed. He looked down atthe letter again; there was the signature "T. J., alias B. E."

  "It's a conspiracy; there's mischief brewing, and I believe I ought toread it," he muttered; then, turning his back toward the bed, perusedevery word of it with close attention.

  It was sufficient to give him a clear insight into the whole affair.Elsie's letters had of late spoken quite frequently of Mr. BromlyEgerton, and so he was the "T. J., alias B. E." of this epistle, theTom Jackson who had been the ruin of Arthur.

  "The wretch! the sneaking, hypocritical scoundrel!" muttered Walterbetween his teeth, and glancing again at the bed, though the epithetwas meant to apply to Jackson and not to Arthur. "What can I do tocircumvent him? Write to Horace, of course, and warn him of Elsie'sdanger." And though usually vacillating and infirm of purpose, on thisoccasion Walter showed himself both prompt and decided. The next mailcarried the news of his discovery to Elsie's natural protector,--herfather, who with Rose, the Allison family, and little Horace, wasstill at Cape May.

  This letter and the three from Lansdale were handed Mr. Dinsmoretogether. He opened Elsie's first. The contents puzzled, surprised,and alarmed him. They were merely a few hastily written lines oftouching entreaty that he would not be angry, but would please forgiveher for giving her heart to one of whom he knew nothing, and daring tolet him speak to her of love; and that he would not believe anythingagainst him until he had heard his defence.

  With a murmured "My poor darling! you have been too long away fromyour father," Mr. Dinsmore laid it down and opened the one directed ina strange hand; rightly supposing it to come from the person to whomshe alluded.

  Egerton spoke in glowing terms of his admiration for Elsie's characterand personal charms, and the ardent love with which they had inspiredhim, and modestly of his own merits. Ignoring all knowledge of herfortune, he said that he had none, but was engaged in a flourishingbusiness which would enable him to support her in comfort and tosurround her with most of the elegancies and luxuries of life to whichshe had been accustomed. Lastly he alluded in a very pious strain tothe deep debt of gratitude he owed her as the one who had been themeans of his hopeful conversion; said she had acknowledged that shereturned his affection, and earnestly begged for the gift of her hand.

  Mr. Dinsmore gave this missive an attentive perusal, laid it aside,and opened Mr. Travilla's.

  Rose was in the room, putting little Horace to bed. She had heard hislittle prayer, given him his good-night kiss, and now the child ran tohis father to claim the same from him.

  It was given mechanically, and Mr. Dinsmore returned to his letter.The child lingered a moment, gazing earnestly into his father's face,troubled by its paleness and the frown on his brow.

  "Papa," he said softly, leaning with confiding affection upon hisknee, "dear papa, are you angry with me? have I been a naughty boy,to-day?"

  "No, son; but I am reading; don't disturb me now."

  Mr. Dinsmore's hand rested caressingly on the curly head for aninstant and the boy turned away satisfied. But Rose was not. Coming toher husband's side the next moment, and laying her hand affectionatelyon his shoulder, "What is it, dear?" she asked, "has anything gonewrong with our darling, or at home?"

  "Trouble for her, I fear, Rose. Read these," he answered with emotion,putting Elsie's, Egerton's, and Travilla's letters into her hands,then opening Walter's.

  "Travilla is right! the man is an unmitigated scoundrel!" he cried,starting up with great excitement. "Rose, I must be off by the nexttrain; it leaves in half an hour. I shall go alone and take only aportmanteau with me. Can it be got ready in season?"

  "Yes, dear, I will pack it at once myself. But what is wrong? Whereare you going? and how long will you be away?"

  "To my brother's first--Arthur is seriously ill, and I must get holdof evidence that Walter can supply--then on to Lansdale with all speedto rescue Elsie from the wiles of a gambling, swindling, hypocritical,fortune-hunting rascal!"

  At a very early hour of the next morning, Walter Dinsmore was rousedfrom his slumbers by, a knock at his door.

  "Who's there?" he asked, starting up in bed.

  "I, Walter," answered a well-known voice, and with a joyfulexclamation he sprang to the door, and opened it.

  "Horace! how glad I am to see you! I hardly dared hope you could gethere so soon."

  "Your news was of the sort to hasten a man's movements," returned Mr.Dinsmore, holding the lad's hand in a warm brotherly grasp. "How areyou? and how's Arthur now?"

  "About the same. Hark! you may hear him moaning and muttering. This isour study. I have had that cot-bed brought in here, and given up thebedroom to him and the nurse; though I'm with him a good deal too."

  "You have a good nurse, and the best medical advice?"

  "Yes."

  "You must see that he has every comfort, Walter; let no expense bespared, nothing left undone that may alleviate his sufferings orassist his recovery. What is the physician's opinion of the case?"

  "He is not very communicative to me; may be more so to you. You'llstay and see him when he calls, won't you?"
<
br />   "What time? I must be off again by the first train. I want to reachLansdale to-morrow."

  "It will give you time to do that. He calls early."

  "Now take me to Arthur; and then I must see that letter, and hear allyou have to tell me in regard to that matter."

  "What does Elsie say?" asked Walter, with intense interest; "do youthink she cares for him?"

  "I'm afraid she does," and Mr. Dinsmore shook his head sadly.

  "Oh, dear! but you won't allow--"

  "Certainly not; 'twould be to entail upon her a life of misery."

  "It's her fortune he's after, that's evident, and indeed I would hurryto Lansdale, if I were you, lest they might take it into their headsto elope. Such a shame as it would be for him to get her--the dear,sweet darling!"

  "I have no fear that Elsie could ever be so lost to her sense offilial duty; nor, I am sure, have you, Walter," answered Mr. Dinsmoregravely.

  "No, Horace; and it's the greatest relief and comfort to me just nowto know how truly obedient and affectionate she is to you."

  Horace Dinsmore omitted nothing that he could do to add to the comfortof his brothers, saw the physician and learned from him that he hadgood hopes of a naturally vigorous constitution bringing Arthur safelythrough the attack from which he was suffering, examined the evidenceWalter was able to furnish that Bromly Egerton and Tom Jackson wereone and the same--a man in whom every vice abounded--found time toshow an interest in Walter's studies and pastimes, and was ready toleave by the train of which he had spoken.

  Jackson had not been wary enough to disguise his hand in either theletter that had fallen from Arthur's pocket, or the one written to Mr.Dinsmore, and a careful comparison of the two had proved conclusivelythat they were the work of the same person. The broken sentencesthat occasionally fell from Arthur's lips in his delirious ravingsfurnished another proof not less strong. Also Walter had managed tosecure an excellent photograph of Jackson, which Mr. Dinsmore carriedwith him, safely bestowed in the breast-pocket of his coat. He hadstudied it attentively and felt sure he should be able instantly torecognize the original.

  Bromly Egerton lay awake most of the night following his passage atarms with Mr. Travilla, considering the situation, and how he would bemost likely to secure the coveted prize. He remembered perfectly wellall that Arthur Dinsmore had said about the difficulty of deceiving oroutwitting his brother, and the impossibility of persuading Elsie todisobedience. Of the latter, he had had convincing proof that day, inher firm refusal to engage herself to him without first obtaining herfather's consent. The conclusion he came to was, that should he remaininactive until Mr. Dinsmore's arrival, his chances of success wereexceedingly small; in fact that his only hope lay in running away withElsie, and afterwards persuading her into a clandestine marriage.

  Their ride was to be taken shortly after an early breakfast, therebeing a sort of tacit understanding that he was to accompany the youngladies; but before Elsie had left her room, Chloe came up with amessage. "Marse Egerton in de parlor, darlin', axin could he see myyoung missis for five minutes, just now."

  Elsie went down at once. Her visitor stood with his back towardthe door, apparently intently studying the pattern of hergreat-great-grandmother's sampler, but turning instantly at thesound of the light, quick footstep, came eagerly toward her withoutstretched hand.

  "Excuse this early call, dearest, but--ah, how lovely you are lookingthis morning!" and bending his head he drew her toward him.

  But she stepped back, avoiding the intended caress, while a crimsontide rushed over the fair face and neck, and her eyes sought thecarpet.

  "We are not engaged, Mr. Egerton; cannot be till papa has givenconsent."

  "I beg ten thousand pardons," he said, coloring violently in his turn,and feeling his hopes grow fainter.

  "Will you not take a seat?" she asked, gently withdrawing her handfrom his.

  "Thank you, no; I have but a moment to stay. My errand was to ask ifwe could not so arrange it as, for once at least, to have our ridealone together? Miss Lottie is a very nice girl, but I would give muchto have my darling all to myself to-day."

  "I would like it much too, very much, but papa bade me always have alady friend with me; and--and besides," she added with hesitation, andblushing more deeply than before, "papa's friend. Mr. Travilla, is togo with us. I--I have promised that he shall be my escort to-day."

  Egerton was furious, and had much ado to conceal the fact; indeed,came very near uttering a horrible oath, and thus forever ruining hishopes. He bit his lips and kept silent, but Elsie saw that he wasangry.

  "Do not be offended or hurt," she said; "do not suppose that Ifollowed my own inclination in consenting to such an arrangement. No,I only acted from a sense of duty; knowing that it was what papa wouldwish."

  "And you would put his wishes before mine? Love him best, I presume?"

  "He is my father, and entitled to my obedience, whether present orabsent."

  "But what very strict ideas you must have on that subject! do youreally think it your duty to obey his wishes as well as his command?"

  "I do; that is the kind of obedience he has taught me, that the Bibleteaches, and that my love for him would dictate. I love my father verydearly, Mr. Egerton."

  "I should think so, indeed; but you must pardon me if at present I amfar more concerned about your love for me," he said, with a forcedlaugh. "As for this Travilla, I can hardly be expected to feel anygreat cordiality toward him after his attack upon me yesterday; andI am free to confess that it would not cause me great grief to learnthat some sudden illness or accident had occurred to prevent hisspoiling our ride to-day."

  "Your feelings are perfectly natural; but, believe me, Mr. Travillahas the kindest of hearts, and when he learns his mistake will be mostanxious to do all in his power to make amends for it. Will you stayand take breakfast with us?" For at that instant the bell rang.

  "No, thank you," he said, moving toward the door. "But promise me,Elsie, that I shall be your escort after this until your father comes.Surely love may claim so small a concession from duty."

  She could not resist his persuasive look and tone, but with a smileand a blush gave the promise for which he pleaded.

  Procuring as fine a horse as his landlord could furnish, Mr. Travillarode to Miss Stanhope's, and alighting at the gate, walked up to thehouse.

  He found its mistress on the front porch, picking dead leaves from hervines. She had mounted a step ladder to reach some that otherwisewere too high up for her small stature. Turning at the sound ofhis approach, "Good-morning, sir," she said. "You see I'm like thesycamore tree that climbed into Zaccheus. Shortness is inconvenient attimes. My, what a jar!" as she came down rather hard, missing the laststep--"I feel it from the crown of my foot to the sole of my head.Here, Simon, take away this ladder-step; the next time I want it Ithink I'll do without; I'm growing so old in my clumsy age. Walk inand take a seat, Mr. Torville. Or shall we sit here? It's pleasanterthan indoors I think."

  "I agree with you," he said, accepting her invitation with a smile atthe oddity of her address. "You have a fine view here."

  They sat there conversing for some time before Elsie made herappearance, Mr. Travilla both charmed and amused with his companion,and she liking him better every moment. When Elsie did come down atlast, looking wondrous sweet and fair in a pretty, coquettish ridinghat and habit, her aunt informed her that she had been urging "Mr.Vanilla" to come and make his home with them while in town, and thathe had consented to let her send Simon at once for his trunk.

  "If it will be agreeable to my little friend to have me here?" Mr.Travilla said, taking her hand in his with the affectionate, fatherlymanner she had always liked so much in him.

  Her face flushed slightly, but she answered without an instant'shesitation that she hoped he would come.

  The horses were already at the gate, Egerton was seen crossing thestreet, and Lottie came tripping in at a side entrance. She had hearda good deal of Mr. Travilla from Elsie, a
nd seemed pleased to make hisacquaintance.

  Egerton came in, he and Mr. Travilla exchanged the coldest and mostdistant of salutations, and the party set off; Mr. Travilla riding byElsie's side, Egerton and Lottie following a little in their rear.

  Finding it almost a necessity to devote himself to Miss King forthe time being, Egerton! took a sudden resolution to make a partialconfidante of her, hoping thus to secure a powerful ally. He told herof the state of affairs between Elsie and himself, of Mr. Travilla's"attack upon him;" how "utterly mistaken" it was, and how he presumed"the mistake" had occurred; giving the story he had told Elsie of thecousin who bore so strong a likeness to him, and so bad a character.He professed the most ardent, devoted affection for Elsie, and themost torturing fears lest her father, crediting him with his cousin'svices, should forbid the match and crush all his hopes.

  The warm-hearted, innocent girl believed every word, and rushing intoher friend's room on their return, threw her arms about her, andhugging her close, told her she knew all, was so, so sorry for her,and for poor Egerton; and begged her not to allow anything to make hergive him up and break his heart.

  Elsie returned the embrace, shed a few tears, but answered not a word.

  "You do believe in him? and won't give him up; will you?" persistedLottie.

  "I do believe in him, and will not give him up unless--unless papacommands it," Elsie answered in a choking voice.

  "I wouldn't for that!" cried Lottie.

  "'Children, obey your parents,'" repeated her friend, tears fillingthe soft brown eyes, and glistening on the drooping lashes. "It isGod's command."

  "But you are not a child any longer."

  "I am papa's child; I always shall be. Oh, it would break my heart ifever he should disown me and say, 'You are no longer my child!'"

  "How you do love him!"

  "Better than my life!"

  Mr. Travilla was already established at Miss Stanhope's, and very gladto be there, that he might keep the more careful and constant watchand ward over his "little friend." Thoroughly convinced of thevileness of the wretch who had won her unsuspicious heart, he couldscarce brook the thought of leaving her alone with him, or of seeinghim draw close to her side, touch her hand, or look into the soft,sweet eyes so full of purity and innocence. Yet these things no onebut her father might forbid, and Mr. Travilla would not force hiscompanionship upon Elsie when he saw or felt that it was distastefulto her. The lovers were frequently left to themselves in the parlor orupon the porch, though the friendly guardian, dreading he hardly knewwhat, took care always to be within call.

  Elsie longed for, yet dreaded her father's coming. She knew he wouldnot delay one moment longer than necessary after receiving theirletters, yet he reached Lansdale almost a day sooner than she expectedhim.

  Sitting alone in her room, she heard his voice and step in the hallbelow. She flew down to meet him.

  "Oh, papa, dear, dear papa!"

  "My darling, precious child!" And her arms were about his neck, hisstraining her to his heart. The next moment she lifted her face, andher eyes sought his with a wistful, pleading, questioning look. Hedrew her into the sitting-room, and Miss Stanhope closed the door,leaving them alone.

  "My darling," he said, "you must give him up; he is utterly unworthyof you."

  "Oh, papa! would you break my heart?"

  "My precious one, I would save you from a life of misery."

  "Ah, papa! you would never say that if you knew how--how I love him,"she murmured, a deep blush suffusing her face.

  "Hush! it horrifies me to hear you speak so of so vile a wretch,--adrinking, swearing gambler, swindler, and rake; for I have learnedthat he is all these."

  "Papa, it is not true! I will not hear such things said of him, evenby you!" she cried, the hot blood dyeing her face and neck, and thesoft eyes filling with indignant tears.

  He put his finger upon her lips. "My daughter forgets to whom she isspeaking," he said with something of the old sternness, though therewas tender pity also in his tones.

  "Oh, papa, I am so wretched!" she sobbed, hiding her face on hisbreast. "Oh, don't believe what they say; it isn't, it can't be true."

  He caressed her silently, then taking the photograph from his pocket,asked, "Do you know that face?"

  "Yes, it is his."

  "I knew it, and it is also the face of the man whose character I havejust described."

  "Oh, no, papa!" and with breathless eagerness she repeated the storywith which Egerton had swept away all her doubts. She read incredulityin her father's face, "You do not believe it, papa?"

  "No, my child, no more than I do black is white. See here!" and heproduced Egerton's letter to him, and the one to Arthur, made herread and compare them, and gave her the further proofs Walter hadfurnished.

  She grew deathly pale, but was no more ready to be convinced than he."Oh, papa, there must be some dreadful mistake! I cannot believe hecould be guilty of such things. The cousin has been personating him,has forged that letter, perhaps; and the photograph may be his also."

  "You are not using your good common-sense, Elsie; the proof is veryfull and clear to my mind. The man is a fortune-hunter, seeking yourwealth, not you; a scoundrel whose vices should shut him out of alldecent society. I can hardly endure the thought that he has ever knownyou, or dared to address a word to you, and it must never be again."

  "Must I give him up?" she asked with pale, quivering lips.

  "You must, my daughter; at once and for ever."

  A look of anguish swept over her face, then she started, flushed, andtrembled, as a voice and step were heard on the porch without.

  "It is he?" her father said inquiringly, and her look answered, "Yes."

  He rose to his feet, for they had been sitting side by side on thesofa while they talked. She sprang up also, and clinging to his arm,looked beseechingly into his face, pleading in a hoarse whisper,"Papa, you will let me see him, speak to him once more?--just a fewwords--in your presence--oh, papa!"

  "No, my darling, no; his touch, his breath, are contamination; hisvery look is pollution, and shall never rest upon you again if I canprevent it. Remember you are never to hold any communication with himagain--by word, letter, or in any other way; I positively forbid it;you must never look at him, or intentionally allow him a sight of yourface. I must go now, and send him away." He held her to his heart ashe spoke; his tone was affectionate, but very firm, and decided; hekissed her tenderly, two or three times, placed her in an easy-chair,saying, "Stay here till I come to you," and left the room.

  For a moment she lay back against the cushions like one stunned by aheavy blow; then, roused by the sound of the voices of the two sheloved best on earth, started and leaned forward in a listeningattitude, straining her ear to catch their words. Few of them reachedher, but her father's tones were cold and haughty, Egerton's at firstpersuasive, then loud, angry, and defiant.

  He was gone, she had heard the last echo of his departing footsteps,and again her father bent over her, his face full of tender pity. Shelifted her sad face to his, with the very look that had taunted himfor years, that he could never recall without a pang of regret andremorse--that pleading, mournful gaze with which she had parted fromhim in the time of their estrangement.

  It almost unmanned him now, almost broke his heart. "Don't, mydarling, don't look at me so," he said in low, moved tones, taking hercold hands in his. "You don't know, precious one, how willingly yourfather would bear all this pain for you if he could."

  She threw herself upon his breast, and folding her close to his heart,he caressed her with exceeding tenderness, calling her by every fond,endearing name.

  For many minutes she received it all passively, then suddenly raisingher head, she returned one passionate embrace, withdrew herself fromhis arms, and hurried from the room.

  He let her go unquestioned; he knew she went to seek comfort andsupport from One nearer and dearer, and better able to give itthan himself. He rose and walked the room with a sad and t
roubledcountenance, and a heart filled with grief for his child, with angerand indignation toward the wretch who had wrecked her happiness.

  Miss Stanhope opened the door and looked in.

  "You have had no dinner, Horace. It will be ready in a few moments."

  "Thank you, aunt. I will go up to my room first and try to get rid ofsome of the dust and dirt I have brought with me."

  "Stay a moment, nephew. I am sorely troubled for the child. You don'tapprove of her choice?"

  "Very far from it. I have forbidden the man ever to come near heragain."

  "But you won't be hard with her, poor dear?"

  "Hard with her, Aunt Wealthy? hard and cruel to my darling whom Ilove better than my life? I trust not; but it would be the height ofcruelty to allow this thing to go on. The man is a vile wretch guiltyof almost every vice, and seeking my child for her wealth, not forherself. I have forbidden her to see or ever to hold the slightestcommunication with him again."

  "Well, it is quite right if your opinion of him is correct; and Ihardly think she is likely to refuse submission."

  "I have brought up my daughter to habits of strict, unquestioningobedience, Aunt Wealthy," he said, "and I think they will stand her ingood stead now. I have no fear that she will rebel."

  A half hour with her best Friend had done much to soothe and calm oursweet Elsie; she had cast her burden on the Lord and He sustained her.She knew that no trial could come to her without His will, that Hehad permitted this for her good, that in His own good time and way Hewould remove it, and she was willing to leave it all with Him; for wasHe not all-wise, all-powerful, and full of tenderest, pitying love forher?

  She had great faith in the wisdom and love of her earthly father also,and doubted not that he was doing what he sincerely believed to be forher happiness,--giving her present pain only in order to save her fromkeener and more lasting distress and anguish in the future.

  It was well for her that she had such trust in him and that theirmutual love was so deep and strong; well too that she was troubledwith no doubts of the duty of implicit obedience to parental authoritywhen not opposed to the higher commands of God. Her heart still clungto Egerton, refusing to credit his utter unworthiness, and she feltit a bitter trial to be thus completely separated from him, yet hopedthat at some future, and perhaps not distant day, he might be able toconvince her father of his mistake.

  Mr. Dinsmore felt it impossible to remain long away from his sufferingchild; after leaving the table, a few moments only were spent inconversation with his aunt and Mr. Travilla, and then he sought hisdarling in her room.

  "My poor little pet, you have been too long away from your father," hesaid, taking her in his arms again. "I shall never forgive myself forallowing it. But, daughter, why was this thing suffered to go on? Yourletters never spoke of this man in a way to lead me to suppose thathe was paying you serious attention; and indeed I did not intend topermit that from any one yet."

  "Papa, I did not deceive you intentionally, I did not mean to bedisobedient," she said imploringly. "Lottie and I were almost alwaystogether, and I did not think of him as a lover till he spoke."

  "Well, dearest, I am not chiding you; your father could never findit in his heart to add one needless pang to what you are alreadysuffering." His tone was full of pitying tenderness.

  She made no answer; only hid her face on his breast and wept silently."Papa," she murmured at length. "I--I do so want to break one of yourrules; oh, if you would only let me, just this once!"

  "A strange request, my darling," he said, "but which of them is it?"

  "That when you have once decided a matter I must never ask you toreconsider. Oh, papa, do, do let me entreat you just this once!"

  "I think it will be useless, daughter, only giving me the pain ofrefusing, and you of being refused; but you may say on."

  "Papa, it is, that I may write a little note to--to Mr. Egerton," shesaid, speaking eagerly and rapidly, yet half trembling at her owntemerity the while, "just to tell him that I cannot do anythingagainst your will, and that he must not come near me or try to holdany sort of intercourse with me till you give consent; but that Ihave not lost my faith in him, and if he is innocent and unjustlysuspected, we need not be wretched and despairing; for God will surelysome day cause it to be made apparent. Oh, papa, may I not? Please,please let me! I will bring it to you when written, and there shallnot be one word in it that you do not approve." She had lifted herface, and the soft, beseeching eyes were looking pleadingly into his.

  "My dearest child," he said, "it is hard to refuse you, but I cannotallow it. There, there! do not cry so bitterly; every tear I see youshed sends a pang to my heart. Listen to me, daughter. Believing whatI do of that man, I would not for a great deal have him in possessionof a single line of your writing. Have you ever given him one?"

  "No, papa, never," she sobbed.

  "Or received one from him?"

  "No, sir."

  "It is well." Then as if a sudden thought had struck him, "Elsie, haveyou ever allowed him to touch your lips?" he asked almost sternly.

  "No, papa, not even my cheek. I would not while we were not engaged;and that could not be without your consent."

  "I am truly thankful for that!" he exclaimed in a tone of relief; "toknow that he had--that these sweet lips had been polluted by contactwith his--would be worse to me than the loss of half my fortune." Andlifting her face as he spoke, he pressed his own to them again andagain.

  But for the first time in her life she turned from him as if almostloathing his caresses, and struggled to release herself from the claspof his arm.

  He let her go, and hurrying to the farther side of the room, she stoodleaning against the window-frame, with her back toward him, sheddingvery bitter tears of mingled grief and anger.

  But in the pauses of her sobbing a deep sigh struck upon her ear. Herheart smote her at the sound; still more as she glanced back at herfather and noted the pained expression of his eye as it met hers. In amoment she was at his side again, down upon the carpet, with her headlaid lovingly on his knee.

  "Papa, I am sorry." The low, street voice was tremulous with grief andpenitence.

  "My poor darling, my poor little pet!" he said, passing his hand withsoft, caressing movement over her hair and cheek, "try to keep yourlove for your father and your faith in his for you, however hard thisrule may seem."

  "Ah, papa, my heart would break if I lost either," she sobbed. Thenlifting her tear-dimmed eyes with tender concern to his face, whichwas very pale and sad, "Dear papa," she said, "how tired you look! youwere up all night, were you not?"

  "Last night and the one before it."

  "That you might hasten here to take care of me," she murmured in atone of mingled regret and gratitude. "Do lie down now and take a nap.This couch is soft and pleasant, and I will close the blinds and sitby your side to keep off the flies."

  He yielded to her persuasions, saying as he closed his eyes, "Don'tleave the room without waking me."

  She was still there when he woke, close at his side and ready togreet him with an affectionate look and smile, though the latter wastouchingly sad and there were traces of tears on her cheeks.

  "How long have I slept?" he asked.

  "Two hours," she answered, holding up her watch, "and there is thetea-bell."