CHAPTER V.
"I'll do whate'er thou wilt, I'll be silent;But oh! a reined tongue, and a bursting heart,Are hard at once to bear."
JOANNA BAILLIE'S BASIL.
Mr. Dinsmore's recovery was not very rapid. It was several weeks after hewas pronounced out of danger ere he was able to leave his room; and thenhe came down looking so altered, so pale, and thin, and weak, that italmost broke his little daughter's heart to look at him.
Very sad and lonely weeks those had been to her, poor child! Shewas never once permitted to see him, and the whole family treated herwith marked coldness and neglect. She had returned to her duties in theschool-room--her father having sent her a command to that effect, as soonas he was sufficiently recovered to think of her--and she tried to attendfaithfully to her studies, but more than once Miss Day had seen the tearsdropping upon her book or slate, and reproved her sharply for not givingher mind to her lessons, and for indulging in what she called her"babyish propensities."
Mr. Dinsmore made his first appearance in the family circle one morningat breakfast, a servant assisting him down stairs and seating him in aneasy-chair at the table, just as the others were taking their places.
Warm congratulations were showered upon him from all sides. Enna ranup to him, exclaiming, "I'm _so_ glad to see you down again, brotherHorace;" and was rewarded with a smile and a kiss; while poor littleElsie, who had been directed, she knew not why, to take her old seatopposite to his, was unable to utter a word, but stood with one hand onthe back of her chair, pale and trembling with emotion, watching him witheyes so blinded by tears that she could scarcely see. But no one seemedto notice her, and her father did not once turn his eyes that way.
She thought of the morning when she had first met him there, her poorlittle heart hungering so for his love; and it seemed as if she had goneback again to that time; and yet it was worse; for now she had learnedto love him with an intensity of affection she had then never known,and having tasted the sweetness of his love, her sense of suffering atits loss was proportionally great; and utterly unable to control herfeelings, she silently left the room to seek some place where she mightgive her bursting heart the relief of tears, with none to observe orreprove her.
Elsie had a rare plant, the gift of a friend, which she had long beentending with great care, and which had blossomed that morning for thefirst time.
The flower was beautiful and very fragrant, and as the little girlstood gazing upon it with delighted eyes, while awaiting the summons tobreakfast, she had said to Chloe, "Oh! how I should like papa to see it!He is so fond of flowers, and has been, so anxious for this one tobloom."
But a deep sigh followed as she thought what a long, long time it waslikely to be before her father would again enter her room, or permit herto go into his. He had not, however, forbidden her to speak to him, andthe thought struck her that, if he should be able to leave his roombefore the flower had faded, so that she could see and speak to him,she might pluck it off and present it to him.
She thought of it again, while weeping alone in her room, and a fainthope sprang up in her heart that the little gift might open the way for areconciliation. But she must wait and watch for an opportunity to see himalone; for she could not, in the present state of affairs, think ofaddressing him before a third person.
The opportunity came almost sooner than she had dared to hope, for, onpassing the library door just after the morning lessons were over, shesaw him sitting there alone; and trembling between hope and fear, shehurried at once to her room, plucked the beautiful blossom from its stem,and with it in her hand hastened to the library.
She moved noiselessly across the thickly carpeted floor, and her papa,who was reading, did not seem to be aware of her approach, until she wasclose at his side. He then raised his head and looked at her with anexpression of surprise on his countenance.
"Dear papa," said the little girl, in faltering accents, as she presentedthe flower, "my plant is bloomed at last; will you accept this firstblossom as a token of affection from your little daughter?"
Her pleading eyes were fixed upon his face, and ere she had finished hersentence, she was trembling violently at the dark frown she saw gatheringThere.
"Elsie," said he, in the cold, stern tone she so much dreaded, "I amsorry you have broken your flower. I cannot divine your motive--affectionfor me it cannot be; for that such a feeling exists in the breast of alittle girl, who not only could refuse her sick father the very smallfavor of reading to him, but would rather see him _die_ than give up herown self-will, I cannot believe. No, Elsie, take it away; I can receiveno gifts nor tokens of affection from a rebellious, disobedient child."
The flower had fallen upon the floor, and Elsie stood in an attitude ofutter despair, her head bent down upon her breast, and her hands hanginglistlessly at her side. For an instant she stood thus, and then, witha sudden revulsion of feeling, she sank down on her knees beside herfather's chair, and seizing his hand in both of hers, pressed it to herheart, and then to her lips, covering it with kisses and tears, whilegreat bursting sobs shook her whole frame.
"Oh, papa! dear, _dear_ papa! I _do love_ you! indeed, _indeed_ I do. Oh,how could you say such cruel words to me?" she sobbed.
"Hush!" he said, withdrawing his hand. "I will have nothing but the truthfrom you, and 'actions speak louder than words.' Get up immediately, anddry your tears. Miss Day tells me that you are ruining your eyes bycontinual crying; and if I hear any more such complaints, I shall punishyou severely. I will not allow it at all, for you have nothing whateverto make you unhappy but your own misconduct. Just as soon as you areready to submit to my authority, you will find yourself treated with thesame indulgence and affection as formerly; but remember, _not till_then!"
His words were like daggers to the affectionate, sensitive child. Had hestabbed her to the heart he could not have hurt her more.
"Oh, papa!" she murmured in heart-broken accents, as in obedience to hiscommand she rose to her feet, struggling hard to keep back the tears hehad forbidden her to shed.
But her emotion did not seem to move him. Her conduct during his severeillness had been so misrepresented to him, that at times he was wellnighconvinced that her seeming affection was all hypocrisy, and that shereally regarded him only in the light of a tyrant, from whose authorityshe would be glad to escape in any way.
"Pick up your flower and leave the room," he said. "I have no desire foryour company until you can learn to obey as you ought."
Silently and mechanically Elsie obeyed him, and hastening to her own roomagain, threw herself into her nurse's arms, weeping as though she wouldweep her very life away.
Chloe asked no questions as to the cause of her emotion--which theflower in her hand, and the remembrance of the morning's conversation,sufficiently explained--but tried in every way to soothe and encourageher to hope for future reconciliation.
For some moments her efforts seemed to be quite unavailing; but suddenlyElsie raised her head, and wiping away her tears, said, with a convulsivesob, "Oh! I am doing wrong again, for papa has forbidden me to cry somuch, and I must try to obey him. But, oh!" she exclaimed, dropping herhead on her nurse's shoulder, with a fresh burst of tears, "how can Ihelp it, when my heart is bursting?"
"Jesus will help you, darlin'," replied Chloe, tenderly. "He always helpshis chillens to bear all dere troubles an' do all dere duties, an' neverleaves nor forsakes dem. But you must try, darlin', to mind Massa Horace,kase he is your own papa; an' de Bible says, 'Chillen, obey yourparents.'"
"Yes, mammy, I know I ought, and I _will_ try," said the little girl,raising her head and wiping her eyes; "but, mammy, you must pray for me,for it will be very, very difficult."
Elsie had never been an eye-servant, but had always conscientiouslyobeyed her father, whether present or absent, and henceforward sheconstantly struggled to restrain her feelings, and even in solitudedenied her bursting heart the relief of tears; though it was not alwaysshe could do this, for she was but young in the sch
ool of affliction, andoften, in spite of every effort, grief would have its way, and she wasready to sink beneath her heavy weight of sorrow. Elsie had learned fromGod's holy word, that "affliction cometh not forth of the dust, neitherdoth trouble spring out of the ground;" and she soon set herselfdiligently to work to find out why this bitter trial had been sent her.
Her little Bible had never been suffered to lie a single day unused, norhad morning or evening ever failed to find her in her closet; she hadneglected none of the forms of religion, and her devotions had been farfrom heartless; yet she discovered with pain that she had of late spentless time, and found less of her enjoyment in these duties than formerly;that she had been, too much engrossed by an earthly love, and needed thistrial to bring her nearer to her Saviour, and teach her again to seek allher happiness in "looking unto him." And now the hours that she had beenwont to pass in her father's society were usually spent in her own room,alone with her Bible and her God, and there she found that sweet peaceand joy which the world can neither give nor take away; and thus shegathered strength to bear her troubles and crosses with heavenly meeknessand patience; and she had indeed great need of a strength not her own,for every day, and almost every hour brought with it its own peculiartrial.
No one but the servants--who still loved her dearly--treated her withkindness; but coldness and neglect were the least she had to bear. Shewas constantly reminded, even by Walter and Enna, that she was stubbornand disobedient, and there was so little pleasure in her walks and rides,either when taken alone or in company with them, that she gradually gavethem up almost entirely--until one day, her father's attention beingcalled to it, by a remark of Mrs. Dinsmore's, "that it was no wonder thechild was growing thin and pale, for she did not take exercise enough tokeep her in health," he called her to him, reprimanded her severely, andlaid his commands upon her "to take a walk and ride every day, when theweather would at all permit, but never dare to go alone farther than intothe garden."
Elsie answered with meek submission, promising obedience; and then turnedquickly away to hide the emotion that was swelling in her breast.
The change in her father was the bitterest part of her trial; she had sorevelled in his affection, and now it seemed to be all withdrawn fromher; and from the fond, indulgent parent, Mr. Dinsmore seemed suddenly tohave changed to the cold, pitiless tyrant. He now seldom took any noticeof his little daughter, and never addressed her unless it were to uttera rebuke, a threat, a prohibition, or command, in tones of harshness andseverity.
Elsie bore it with all the meekness and patience of a martyr, but erelong her health began to suffer; she grew weak and nervous, and wouldstart and tremble, and change color at the very sound of her father'sstep or voice--those sounds which she had once so loved to hear--and thelittle face became thin and pale, and an expression of deep and touchingsadness settled down upon it.
Love was as necessary to Elsie's health and happiness as sunshine to theflowers, and even as the keen winds and biting frosts of winter wilt andwither the tender blossoms, so did all this coldness and severity, thegentle, sensitive spirit of the little child.
Mr. Travilla had called several times during the early part of Mr.Dinsmore's illness, while Elsie had been his nurse, and she sometimeswondered that she had seen nothing of him during all these sorrowfulweeks; but the truth was, Mr. Travilla had been absent from home, andknew nothing of all that had been going on at Roselands. As soon,however, as he returned, and heard how ill his friend had been, hecalled to express his sympathy, and congratulate him on his recovery.
He found Mr. Dinsmore seated in an easy-chair in the library, stilllooking weak and ill, and more depressed in spirits than he had everseen him.
"Ah! Dinsmore, my dear fellow, I hear you have been very ill; and,indeed, I must say you are looking far from well yet," Travilla exclaimedin his cheerful, hearty way, shaking his friend's hand warmly. "I thinkmy little friend, Elsie, has deserted her post almost too soon; but Isuppose you have sent her back to her lessons again," he remarked,glancing around as if in search of her.
"I have no need of nursing now," replied Mr. Dinsmore, with a sad sort ofsmile. "I am able to ride, and even to walk out, and shall, I hope, soonbe quite myself again."
He then introduced another topic of conversation, and they chatted forsome time.
At length Mr. Travilla drew out his watch.
"I see it is past school-hours," he said; "might I see my little friend?I have brought a little gift for her, and should like to present it inperson."
Mr. Dinsmore had become quite animated and cheerful during their previousconversation, but a great change came over his face while Mr. Travillawas making his request, and the expression of his countenance was verycold and stern, as he replied, "I thank you, Travilla, on her behalf;but, if you please, I would much prefer your not giving her anythingat present, for, I am sorry to say, Elsie has been very stubborn andrebellious of late, and is quite undeserving of any indulgence."
Mr. Travilla looked exceedingly astonished. "Is it _possible_!" heexclaimed. "Really, I have had such an exalted opinion of Elsie'sgoodness, that I could not have credited such a charge from any onebut her father."
"No, nor could I," replied Mr. Dinsmore, leaning his head upon hishand with a heavy sigh; "but it is as I tell you, and you see now thatI have some cause for the depression of spirits upon which you have beenrallying me. Travilla, I love that child as I have never loved anotherearthly thing except her mother, and it cuts me to the quick to haveher rebel as she has been doing for the last five weeks; it is almostmore than I can bear in my present weak state. I thought she loved medevotedly, but it seems I was mistaken, for surely obedience is thebest test of love, and she refuses me that."
He paused for a moment, apparently quite overcome by his feelings, thenwent on; "I have been compelled to banish her from my presence, but,alas! I find I cannot tear her from my heart, and I miss her everymoment."
Mr. Travilla looked very much concerned. "I am sorry, indeed," he said,"to hear such an account of my little friend; but her love for you Icannot doubt, and we will hope that she will soon return to her duty."
"Thank you, Travilla; I am always sure of your sympathy in any kind oftrouble," replied Mr. Dinsmore, trying to speak cheerfully; "but we willleave this disagreeable subject, and talk of something else."
In a few moments Mr. Travilla rose to take leave, declining Mr.Dinsmore's urgent invitation to remain to dinner, but promising tocome again before long and stay a day or two. His kind heart was reallypained to learn that there was again a misunderstanding between hislittle friend--as he had been in the habit of calling Elsie--and herfather; and as he rode home silently pondering the matter, he determinedthat he would very soon fulfil his promise of paying a longer visit, forhe could not refrain from indulging a faint hope that he might be able toaccomplish something as mediator between them.
A few days after this, Elsie was passing down the hall. The doors andwindows were all open, for it was a warm spring day, and as she passedthe drawing-room door, she paused a moment and looked in. Her father satreading near one of the windows, and her eyes were riveted upon his face.He was still pale from his recent illness; and his face had a troubled,care-worn look, very different from its usual expression.
Oh! what a _longing_ desire came over the little girl at that sight, togo to him and say that she was sorry for all the past, and that in thefuture she would be and do everything that he asked. She burst intotears and turned hastily away. She was hurrying out to the garden, butat the door she encountered her aunt Adelaide.
"What is the matter, Elsie?" she asked, putting her hand on the child'sshoulder and forcibly detaining her.
"Oh! Aunt Adelaide," sobbed the little girl, "papa looks so ill and sad."
"And no wonder, Elsie," replied her aunt severely; "_you_ are quiteenough to make him sad, and ill, too, with your perverse, obstinate ways.You have yourself to thank for it all, for it is just that, and nothingelse, that ails him."
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sp; She turned away as she spoke, and poor Elsie, wringing her hands in anagony of grief, darted down the garden-walk to her favorite arbor.
Her eyes were so blinded by tears that she did not see that Mr. Travillawas sitting there, until she was close beside him.
She turned then, and would have run away again, but he caught her by thedress, and drawing her gently toward him, said in a mild, soothing tone--
"Don't run away from me, my poor little friend, but tell me the cause ofyour sorrow, and who knows but I may be able to assist you."
Elsie shook her head mournfully, but allowed him, to set her on his knee,and put his arm around her.
"My poor child! my poor, dear little girl!" he said, wiping away hertears, and kissing her very much as her father had been in the habit ofdoing.
It reminded her of him and his lost love, and caused a fresh burst oftears and sobs.
"Poor child!" said Mr. Travilla again, "is there nothing I can do foryou? Will you not tell me the cause of your grief?"
"Oh, Mr. Travilla!" she sobbed, "papa is very much displeased with me,and he looks so sad and ill, it almost breaks my heart."
"And why is he displeased with you, my dear? If you have done wrong andare sorry for your fault, I am sure you have only to confess it, and askforgiveness, and all will be right again," he said kindly, drawing herhead down upon his breast, and smoothing back the curls from her flushedand tear-stained face.
Elsie made no reply, and he went on--
"When we have done wrong, my dear little girl--as we do all sometimes--itis much more noble to acknowledge it and ask pardon, than to try to hideour faults; and you know, dear little Elsie," he added in a graver tone,"that the Bible teaches us that children must obey their parents."
"Yes, Mr. Travilla," she answered, "I know that the Bible says: 'He thatcovereth his sins shall not prosper,' and I know it tells me to obey myfather; and I do think I am willing to confess my faults, and I do tryto obey papa in everything that is right; but sometimes he bids medisobey God; and you know the Bible says: 'We ought to obey God ratherthan men.'"
"I am afraid, my dear," said Mr. Travilla gently, "that you are perhaps alittle too much inclined to judge for yourself about right and wrong. Youmust remember that you are but a very little girl yet, and that yourfather is very much older and wiser; and therefore I should say it wouldbe much safer to leave it to him to decide these matters. Besides, ifhe _bids_ you do thus and so, I think all the responsibility of thewrong--supposing there _is_ any--will rest with _him_, and _he_, not_you_, will have to account for it."
"Oh! no, Mr. Travilla," replied the little girl earnestly, "my Bibleteaches me better than that; for it says: '_Every one_ of us shall giveaccount of _himself_ to God;' and in another place: 'The soul thatsinneth _it_ shall die.' So I know that _I_, and not papa, nor any oneelse, will have to give account for _my_ sins."
"I see it will never do for me to try to quote Scripture to you," heremarked, looking rather discomfited; "for you know a great deal moreabout it than I do. But I am very anxious to see you and your fatherfriends again, for I cannot bear to see you both looking so unhappy.
"You have a good father, Elsie, and one that you may well be proudof--for a more high-minded, honorable gentleman cannot be found anywhere;and I am quite sure he would never require you to do anything very wrong.Have you any objection, my dear, to telling me what it is?"
"He bade me read to him, one Sabbath-day, a book which was only fit forweek-day reading, because it had nothing at all in it about God, or beinggood--and I could not do that; and now he says I must say I am sorry Irefused to obey him that time, and promise always to do exactly as hebids me in future," replied Elsie, weeping; "and oh! Mr. Travilla, Icannot do that. I cannot say I am sorry I did not disobey God, nor thatI will disobey him in future, if papa bids me."
"But if that was a sin, Elsie, it was surely a very _little_ one; I don'tthink God would be very angry with you for anything so small as that," hesaid very gravely.
"Mr. Travilla," Elsie replied in a tone of deep solemnity, "it iswritten, 'Cursed is every one that continueth not in _all_ things whichare written in the book of the law to do them;' _that_ is in the Bible;and the catechism says: '_Every sin_ deserveth the wrath and curse ofGod!' And oh! Mr. Travilla," she added in a tone of anguish, "if youknew how _hard_ it is for me to keep from giving up, and doing what myconscience says is wrong, you wouldn't try to persuade me to do it."
Mr. Travilla knew not what to say; he was both perplexed and distressed.
But just at that moment a step was heard coming down the path. Elsierecognized it instantly, and began to tremble, and the next moment herfather entered the arbor.
Mr. Dinsmore felt a pang of jealousy at seeing his little girl inTravilla's arms, which he would have been ashamed to acknowledge tohimself, but it caused his tone to be even more than usually stern andsevere as he hastily inquired, "What are you doing here, Elsie--cryingagain, after all I have said to you? Go to your room this moment, andstay there until you can show a cheerful face!"
Mr. Travilla set her down, and she obeyed without a word, not even daringto look at her father.
There was a moment of embarrassing silence after she had gone.
Then Travilla said, "It seems Elsie stumbled upon me here quiteunexpectedly, and I detained her somewhat against her will, I believe,and have been doing my best to persuade her that she ought to be entirelysubmissive to you."
Mr. Dinsmore looked interested, but replied with a sigh, "I fear you didnot succeed; she is sadly obstinate, and I begin to fear I shall have touse great severity before I can conquer her."
Mr. Travilla hesitated a moment, then said, "I am afraid, Dinsmore, thatshe has the right of it; she quoted Scripture to me till I really had nomore to say."
Mr. Dinsmore looked displeased.
"_I_ should think," he said almost haughtily, "that the fifth commandmentwould be answer enough to any argument she could bring to excuse herdisobedience."
"We do not all see alike, Dinsmore," remarked his friend, "and though Ido not say that you are wrong, I must acknowledge that were I in yourplace, I should do differently, because I should fear that the child wasacting from _principle_ rather than self-will or obstinacy."
"_Give up_ to her, Travilla? never! It astonishes me that you couldsuggest such a thing!" exclaimed Mr. Dinsmore with almost fiercedetermination. "No, I _will_ conquer her! I will break _her will_,though in doing so I break my own heart."
"And _hers_, too," murmured Travilla in a low, sad tone, more as ifthinking aloud than answering his friend.
Mr. Dinsmore started. "No, no," he said hurriedly, "there is no danger of_that_; else she would certainly have given up long ago."
Travilla shook his head, but made no reply; and presently Mr. Dinsmorerose and led the way to the house.
Holidays at Roselands Page 5