CHAPTER XX.
She is not sad, yet in her gaze appears Something that makes the gazer think of tears.
--MRS. EMBURY.
The family at Roselands were gathered about the breakfast-table. Amuch smaller party than of yore, since Horace had taken Elsie andset up an establishment of his own, and the other sons were away atcollege and two daughters married; leaving only Mr. and Mrs. Dinsmore,Adelaide and Enna to occupy the old home.
"I presume you have the lion's share as usual, papa," observed thelast named, as her father opened the letter-bag which Pomp had justbrought in.
"And who has a better right, Miss Malapert?" retorted the oldgentleman. "Yes, here are several letters for me; but as there is oneapiece for the rest of you, nobody need complain. Here, Pomp, handthis to your mistress. From Walter, I see."
"Yes," she answered, opening it, "and a few lines from Arthur too. I'mglad he's able to write again, poor fellow!"
"Yes," said Adelaide. "Rose says Horace has been up there and foundhim nearly recovered. She writes that they are coming home."
"When?" asked Enna.
"Why, to-day! the letter has been delayed," said her sister, lookingat the date. "I shall ride over directly, to see that all is in orderfor them at the Oaks."
"There is no need," remarked her mother. "Rose will have written toMrs. Murray."
"I presume so, still I shall go; it will be pleasant to be there towelcome them when they arrive."
"How fond you are of Rose," said Mrs. Dinsmore in a piqued tone; "youwouldn't do more for one of your own sisters, I believe, than forher."
"I wouldn't do less, mamma, and I am very fond of her; we are soperfectly congenial."
"And Elsie's a great pet of yours, too," said Enna sneeringly. "Well,I shall put off my call till to-morrow, when the trunks will have beenunpacked, and I shall have a chance to see the fashions. Elsie willhave loads of new things; it's perfectly absurd the way Horace heapspresents upon her, and pocket-money too. Such loads of jewelry as shehas,--two or three gold watches, and everything else in proportion."
"He may as well; she can never spend the half of her income," remarkedMr. Dinsmore. "Unless she takes to gambling," he added, in a tone thatseemed to say that his purse had suffered severely from some one'sindulgence in that vice.
Mrs. Dinsmore winced, Enna looked vexed and annoyed, and Adelaide sadand troubled; but when she spoke it was in answer to Enna.
"Yes, Elsie will have a great many beautiful things to show us, ofcourse; but, though she wears nothing outre, she has never been, and Ithink never will be a mirror of fashion. It would suit neither her owntaste nor Horace's; and you know, fond of her as he is, he will neverallow her to have a will of her own in dress or anything else. So itis well their tastes harmonize."
"I wouldn't be his child for all her money," said Enna.
"There would be some fighting if you were," said her father, laughing.
"I never could tell whether he tyrannized over Rose in the same styleor not," observed Mrs. Dinsmore interrogatively.
"All I know about it is that they seem perfectly happy in each other,"answered Adelaide; "but I don't suppose Horace considers a husband'sauthority by any means equal to a father's."
Something delayed Adelaide, and it was nearly two hours after theyrose from the table ere she was fairly on her way to the Oaks.
"Why, they are here before me!" she exclaimed half aloud as she camein sight of the house.
There were piles of luggage upon the veranda, and the whole family,including all the house servants, were gathered round a largeopen trunk from which Mrs. Dinsmore and Elsie were dealing outgifts--dresses, aprons, bonnets, hats, gay handkerchiefs, etc., etc.;the darkies receiving them with a delight that was pleasant to see.
Mr. Dinsmore too was taking his part in the distribution, and asAdelaide rode up little Horace was in the act of throwing a gay shawlabout the shoulders of his nurse, who caught him in her arms andhugged and kissed him over and over, calling him "honey," and "pet,"and "you ole mammy's darlin' ole chil'!"
So much engaged were they all that no one perceived Adelaide'sapproach till she had reined in her horse close to the veranda, andthrowing her bridle to her attendant, sprung lightly to the ground.
But then there was a shout of welcome from little Horace, followedinstantly by joyous exclamations and embraces from the others.
"Dear me, what a long stay you made of it!" said Adelaide. "You canhave no idea how I missed you all; even down to this little man,"patting Horace's rosy cheek. "You look remarkably well, Rose; and thetwo Horaces also; but Elsie, I think, has grown a little pale, thin,and heavy-eyed. What ails you, child? Pining for your native air--no,home air--I presume. Is that it?"
"Hardly pining for it, auntie, but very glad to get back,nevertheless," Elsie answered, with a blush and a smile.
"And you are not pale now. But don't let me interrupt your pleasantemployment. I wish I had been in time to see the whole of it."
"You are in season for your own gifts. Will you accept a trifle fromme?" said her brother, putting a jewel-case into her hand.
"Coral! and what a beautiful shade!" she cried. "Thank you; they arejust what I wanted."
"I thought they would contrast prettily with this, auntie," saidElsie, laying a dress-pattern of black silk upon her lap.
"And these are to be worn at the same time, if it so pleases you,"added Rose, presenting her with collar and undersleeves of point lace.
"Oh, Rose, how lovely! and even little Horace bringing auntie a gift!"as the child slipped something into her hand.
"It's only a card-case; but mamma said you'd like it, Aunt Adie."
"And I do; it's very pretty. And here's a hug and a kiss for the petboy that remembered his old-maid auntie."
"Old maid, indeed! Adelaide, I'll not have you talking so," said Rose."There's nothing old-maidish about you; not even age yet; a girl oftwenty-six to be calling herself that! it's perfectly absurd. Isn'tit, my dear?"
"I think so, indeed," replied Mr. Dinsmore. "Here, Jim, Cato, and therest of you carry in these trunks and boxes, and let us have themunpacked and put out of sight."
"Oh, yes!" said Adelaide, "I want to see all the fine things you havebrought, Rose. Mamma, Enna, and I are depending upon you and Elsie forthe fashions."
"Yes, we had all our fall and winter dresses made up in Philadelphia;we prefer their styles to the New York; they don't go to suchextremes, you know; and besides--hailing from the Quaker city as I do,it's natural I should be partial to her plainer ways--but we broughtquantities of patterns from both places; knowing that nothing waslikely to be too gay for Enna. We will let Elsie display hers first. Ifeel in a special hurry, dear, to show your aunt those elegant silksyour papa and I helped you to select. I hope you will see them all onher, one of these days, Adelaide.
"That child's complexion is so perfect, that she can wear anything,"she added in an aside, as they followed Elsie to her apartments;"there's a pale blue that she looks perfectly lovely in; a pearl-colortoo, and a delicate pink, and I don't know how many more. One mightthink we expected her to do nothing but attend parties the comingseason."
Elsie seemed to take a lively interest in displaying her pretty thingsto her aunt, and in looking on for a little, while Rose did the samewith hers; but at length, though the two older ladies were stillturning over and discussing silks, satins, velvets, laces, ribbons,feathers, and flowers, her father noticed her sitting in the corner ofa sofa, in an attitude of weariness and dejection, with a pale cheek,and a dreary, far-off look in her eyes that it pained him to see.
"You are very tired, daughter," he said, going to her side, andsmoothing her glossy brown hair with tender caressing motion, as hespoke; "go and lie down for an hour or two. A nap would do you a greatdeal of good."
"I don't like to do so while Aunt Adie is here, papa," she said,looking up at him with a smile, and trying to seem fresh and bright.
"Never mind that; you can see her any day now. Co
me, you must take arest." And drawing her hand within his arm, he led her to her boudoirand left her there, comfortably established upon a sofa.
"A hat trimmed in that style would be becoming to Elsie," remarkedAdelaide, continuing the conversation with Rose, and turning to lookat her niece as she spoke. "Why, she's not here."
"Papa took her away to make her lie down," said little Horace.
"Rose, does anything ail the child?" asked Adelaide, in an undertone.
"She does not seem to be out of health; but you know we are verycareful of her; she is so dear and sweet, and has never looked verystrong."
"But there is something wrong with her, is there not? she does notseem to me quite the gay, careless child she was when you went away.Horace," and she turned to him, as he re-entered the room, "may I notknow about Elsie? You can hardly love her very much better than I do,I think."
"If that is so, you must love her very much indeed," he answered witha faint smile. "Yes, I will tell you." And he explained the matter;briefly at first, then more in detail, as she drew him on by questionsand remarks.
Her sympathy for Elsie was deep and sincere; yet she thought herbrother's course the only wise and kind one, and her indignation waxedhot against Arthur and Egerton.
"And Elsie still believes in the scoundrel?" she said inquiringly.
"Yes, her loving, trustful nature refuses to credit the proofs ofhis guilt, and only her sweet, conscientious submission to parentalauthority has saved her from becoming his victim."
"She is a very good, submissive, obedient child to you, Horace."
"I could not ask a better, Adelaide. I only wish it were in my powerto make obedience always easy and pleasant to her, poor darling."
"I hope you have something for me there, my dear," Rose remarked toher husband at the breakfast-table the next morning, as he looked overthe mail just brought in by his man John.
"Yes, there is one for you; from your mother, I think; and, Elsie, doyou know the handwriting of this?"
"No, papa, it is quite strange to me," she answered, taking the letterhe held out to her, and which bore her name and address on the back,and examining it critically.
"And the post-mark tells you nothing either?"
"No, sir; I cannot quite make it out, but it doesn't seem to be anyplace where I have a correspondent."
"Well, open it and see from whom it comes. But finish your breakfastfirst."
Elsie laid the letter down by her plate, and putting aside, for thepresent, her curiosity in regard to it, went on with her meal. "Fromwhom can it have come?" she asked herself, while listening halfabsently to extracts from Mr. Allison's epistle; "not from him surely,the hand is so very unlike that of the one he sent me in Lansdale."
"You have not looked at that yet," her father said, seeing her take itup as they rose from the table. "You may do so now. I wish to know whothe writer is. Don't read it till you have found that out," he added,leading her to a sofa in the next room, and making her sit down there,while he stood by her side.
She felt that his eye was upon her as she broke open the envelope and,taking the letter from it, glanced down the page, then in a littleflutter of surprise and perplexity turned to the signature. Instantlyher face flushed crimson, she trembled visibly, and her eyes werelifted pleadingly to his.
He frowned and held out his hand.
"Oh, papa, let me read it!" she murmured low and tremulously, her eyesstill pleading more eloquently than her tongue.
"No," he said, and his look and gesture were imperative.
She silently put the letter into his hand, and turned away with a lowsob.
"It is not worth one tear, or even an emotion of regret, my child," hesaid, sitting down beside her. "I shall send it back at once; unread,unless you prefer to have me read it first."
"No, papa."
"Very well, then I shall not. But, Elsie, do you not see now that heis quite capable of imitating the handwriting of another?"
"Yes, papa; but that does not prove that he did in the case you referto."
"And he has acted quite fairly and honestly in using that talent toelude my vigilance and tempt you to deception and disobedience, eh?"
"He is not perfect, papa, but I can't believe him as bad as youthink."
"There are none so blind as those that won't see, Elsie; but,remember"--and his tone changed from one of great vexation to anothersternly authoritative--"I will be obeyed in this thing."
"Yes, papa," she said, and rising, hastily left the room.
"Try to be very patient with her, dear," said Rose, who had been asilent, but deeply interested spectator of the little scene; "shesuffers enough, poor child!"
"Yes, I know it, and my heart bleeds for her; yet she seems sowilfully blind to the strongest proofs of the fellow's abominablerascality that at times I feel as if I could hardly put up with itat all. The very pain of seeing her suffer so makes me out of allpatience with her folly."
"Yes, I understand it, but do not be stern with her; she surely doesnot deserve it while she is so perfectly submissive to your will."
"No, she does not, poor darling," he said with a sigh. "But I mustmake haste to write some letters that ought to go by the next mail."
He left the room, and Mrs. Dinsmore, longing to comfort Elsie in hertrouble, was about to go in search of her, when Mrs. Murray, who wasstill housekeeper at the Oaks, came to ask advice or direction aboutsome household matters.
Their consultation lasted for half an hour or more, and in themeanwhile Mr. Dinsmore finished his correspondence and went himself tolook for his daughter. She was in the act of opening her writing-deskas he entered the room.
"What are you doing, daughter?" he asked.
"I was about to write a letter to Sophy, papa."
"It would be too late for to-day's mail; so let it wait, and come withme for a little stroll into the grounds. Aunt Chloe, bring a gardenhat and sunshade. You would like to go, daughter?"
"Yes, sir. Papa, you are not vexed with me? You don't think I want tobe disobedient or wilful?" There were tears in her voice and traces ofthem on her cheeks.
"No, darling!" he said, drawing her to him, "and you did not in theleast deserve to be spoken to in the stern tone that I used. But--canyou understand it?--my very love for you makes me angry and impatientat your persistent love for that scoundrel."
"Papa, please don't!" she said in a low, pained tone, and turning awayher face.
"Ah, you do not like to hear a word against him!" he sighed; "I can'tbear to think it, and yet I fear you care more for him than for me,your own father, who almost idolizes you. Is it so?"
"Papa," she murmured, winding her arms about his neck, and layingher head on his breast, "if I may have but one of you, I could neverhesitate for a moment to choose to cling here where I have been solong and tenderly cherished. I know what your love is,--I might bemistaken and deceived in another. And besides, God commands me tohonor and obey you."
He held her close to his heart for a moment, as something too dear andprecious ever to be given up to another, then drawing her hand withinhis arm, while Chloe placed the hat on her head, and gave her theparasol, he led her out into the grounds.
It pained him to notice the sadness of her countenance, sadder than hehad seen it for many days, and he exerted himself to entertain herand divert her thoughts, calling her attention to some new plants andflowers, consulting her taste in regard to improvements he designedmaking, and conversing with her about a book they had been reading.
She understood his thoughtful kindness, was grateful for it, and didher best to be interested and cheerful.
"It is so nice to have you treat me as your companion and friend aswell as your daughter, papa," she said, looking up at him with asmile.
"Your companionship is very dear and sweet to me, daughter," heanswered. "But I think we had better go in now; the sun is growinghot."
"Oh, here you are!" cried a girlish voice as they turned into a shadedwalk leading to the house. "I've bee
n looking everywhere and amglad to have found you at last. Really, if a body didn't know yourrelationship, he or she might almost imagine you a pair of lovers."
"Don't be silly, Enna. How do you do?" said Mr. Dinsmore, shakinghands with her and giving her a brotherly kiss.
"As usual, thank you," she answered, turning from him to Elsie, whomshe embraced with tolerable warmth, saying, "I'm really glad to haveyou here again. I missed you more than I would have believed. Now comein and show me all your pretty things. I'm dying to see them. Adelaidesays you've brought home such quantities of lovely laces, silks,velvets, ribbons, flowers, feathers and what not, that one mightimagine you'd nearly bought out the Philadelphia merchants."
"No, they had quite a stock still left," replied Elsie, smiling; "but,as mamma says, papa was very indulgent and liberal to us both; and Ishall take pleasure in showing you his gifts."
"How do you like my present to Adelaide? asked Mr. Dinsmore.
"Oh, very much; but when my turn comes please remember I wantamethysts."
"Ah, then I have been fortunate in my selection," he said, quiteunsuspicious of the fact that Enna had instructed Elsie beforehand inregard to her wishes, should Horace intend making her a present. Elsiehad quietly given the desired hint, but merely as though the idea hadoriginated with herself.
The jewelry was highly approved, as also a rich violet silk from Rose,and a lace set from Elsie.
Adelaide had been intrusted with quite as rich gifts for her fatherand mother; nor had Lora been forgotten; Elsie had a handsome shawlfor her, Mr. Dinsmore a beautiful pair of bracelets, and Rose a costlyvolume of engravings.
"Do you think Aunt Lora will be pleased?" asked Elsie.
"They're splendid! It must be mighty nice to have so much money tospend. But come now, show me what you got for yourselves."
She spent a long while, first in Rose's apartment, then in Elsie's,turning over and admiring the pretty things, discussing patterns, andstyles of trimming, and what colors and modes would be becoming toher, trying on some of the dresses, laces, sacques, shawls, bonnets,and hats--without so much as saying by your leave, when the article inquestion belonged to her niece--that she might judge of the effect;several times repeating her remark that it must be delightful to haveso much money, and that Elsie was exceedingly fortunate in being soenormously wealthy.
"Yes; it is something to be thankful for," Elsie said at length, "but,Enna, it is also a great responsibility. We are only stewards, youknow, and sometimes I fear it is hardly right for me to spend so muchin personal adornment."
"That wouldn't trouble me in the least; but why do you do it, if youare afraid it's wrong?"
"Papa does not think so; he says the manufacturers of these rich goodsmust live as well as others, and that for one with my income, it is nomore extravagant to wear them than for one with half the means to weargoods only half as expensive."
"And I'm sure he's perfectly right; and of course you have no choicebut to obey. Well, I presume I've seen everything now, and I'mactually weary with my labors," she added, throwing herself into aneasy-chair. "You've grown a little pale, I think, and your eyes lookas if you'd been crying. What ails you?"
"I am not at all ill," returned Elsie, flushing.
"I didn't say you were, but something's wrong with you, and you can'tdeny it; you don't seem as gay as you used to before you went away."
She paused, but receiving no reply, went on. "Come now, it isn't worthwhile to be so close-mouthed with me, Miss Dinsmore; for I happen toknow pretty much all about it already. You've fallen in love with aman that your father thinks is a scamp and though you don't believeit, you've given him up, in obedience to orders, like the cowardlypiece that you are. Dear me, before I'd be so afraid of my father!"
"No, you neither fear nor love your father as I do mine; but fear ofpapa has very little to do with it. I love him far too well to refuseto submit to him in this, and I fear God, who bids me obey and honorhim. But, Enna, how did you learn all this?"
"Ah, that is my secret."
Elsie looked disturbed. "Won't you tell me?"
"Not I."
"Is it generally known in the family?"
"So far as I am aware, no one knows it but myself."
"Ah!" thought Elsie, "I did not believe Aunt Adelaide or Walter wouldtell her; but I wonder how she did find it out."
"I wouldn't give up the man I loved for anybody," Enna went on in asneering tone. "I say parents have no business to interfere in suchmatters; and so I told papa quite plainly when he took it upon himto lecture me about receiving attentions from Dick Percival, andthreatened to forbid him the house."
"Oh, Enna!"
"You consider it wickedly disrespectful and rebellious no doubt, butI say I'm no longer a child, and so the text, 'Children obey yourparents'--which I know is just on the end of your tongue--doesn'tapply to me."
"The Bible doesn't say obey till you are of age, then do as youplease. You are not seventeen yet, and Isaac was twenty when hesubmitted to be bound and laid upon the altar."
"Well, when I go to the altar, it shall be leaning on Dick's arm,"said Enna, laughing. "I don't care if he is wild; I like him, andintend to marry him too."
"But are you not afraid?"
"Afraid of what?"
"That he will run through his property in a few years, and perhapsbecome an habitual drunkard and abusive to his wife."
"I mean to risk it anyhow," returned Enna sharply, "so it is not worthwhile for my friends to waste their breath in lecturing me on thesubject."
"Oh, Enna! you can't expect a blessing, if you persist in being soundutiful; I think it would be well for you if your father were morelike mine."
"Indeed! I wouldn't be your father's daughter for anything."
"And I am glad and thankful that I am."
Elsie's Girlhood Page 20