Holidays at Roselands

by Martha Finley

  CHAPTER VI.

  "The storm of grief bears hard upon her youth,And bends her, like a drooping flower, to earth."

  ROWE'S FAIR PENITENT.

  "You are not looking quite well yet, Mr. Dinsmore," remarked a ladyvisitor, who called one day to see the family; "and your little daughter,I think, looks as if she, too, had been ill; she is very thin, and seemsto have entirely lost her bright color."

  Elsie had just left the room a moment before the remark was made.

  Mr. Dinsmore started slightly.

  "I believe she _is_ a little pale," he replied in a tone of annoyance;"but as she makes no complaint, I do not think there can be anythingseriously amiss."

  "Perhaps not," said the lady indifferently; "but if she were _my_ child Ishould be afraid she was going into a decline."

  "Really, Mrs. Grey, I don't know what should put such a notion into yourhead!" exclaimed Mrs. Dinsmore, "for I assure you Elsie has always beena perfectly healthy child since I have known her."

  "Ah! well; it was but the thought of a moment," replied Mrs. Grey, risingto take leave, "and I am glad to hear there is no ground for fear, forElsie is certainly a very sweet little girl."

  Mr. Dinsmore handed Mrs. Grey to her carriage, and re-entering the housewent into the little back parlor where Elsie, the only other occupant ofthe room, sat reading, in the corner of the sofa.

  He did not speak to her, but began pacing back and forth across thefloor. Mrs. Grey's words had alarmed him; he could not forget them, andwhenever in his walk his face was turned towards his child, he bent hiseyes upon her with a keen, searching gaze; and he was surprised that hehad not before noticed how thin, and pale, and careworn that little facehad grown.

  "Elsie," he said suddenly, pausing in his walk.

  The child started and colored, as she raised her eyes from the book tohis face, asking, in a half tremulous tone, "What, papa?"

  "Put down your book and come to me," he replied, seating himself.

  His tone lacked its usual harshness, yet the little girl came to himtrembling so that she could scarcely stand.

  It displeased him.

  "Elsie," he said, as he took her hand and drew her in between his knees,"why do you always start and change color when I speak to you? and whyare you trembling now as if you were venturing into the lion's jaws?--areyou afraid of me?--speak!"

  "Yes, papa," she replied, the tears rolling down her cheeks, "you alwaysspeak so sternly to me now, that I cannot help feeling frightened."

  "Well, I didn't intend to be stern this time," he said more gently thanhe had spoken to her for a long while; "but tell me, my daughter, are youquite well?--you are growing very pale and thin, and I want to know ifanything ails you."

  "Nothing, papa, but--" the rest of her sentence was lost in a burst oftears.

  "But what?" he asked almost kindly.

  "Oh, papa! you know! I want your love. _How can I live without it_?"

  "You need not, Elsie," he answered very gravely, "you have only to bowthat stubborn will of yours, to have all the love and all the caressesyou can ask for."

  Wiping her eyes, she looked up beseechingly into his face, asking, inpleading tones, "_Dear_ papa, won't you give me one kiss--just _one_?Think how long I have been without one."

  "Elsie, say 'I am sorry, papa, that I refused to obey you on thatSabbath-day; will you please to forgive me? and I will always be obedientin future,' That is all I require. Say it, and you will be at onceentirely restored to favor."

  "I am _very sorry_, dear papa, for _all_ the naughty things I have everdone, and I will always try to obey you, if you do not bid me break God'scommandments," she answered in a low, tremulous tone.

  "That will not do, Elsie; it is not what I bid you say. I will have no_if_ in the matter; nothing but _implicit, unconditional_ obedience," hesaid in a tone of severity.

  He paused for a reply, but receiving none, continued: "I see you arestill stubborn, and I shall be compelled to take severe measures tosubdue you. I do not yet know what they will be, but one thing iscertain--I will not keep a rebellious child in my sight; there areboarding-schools where children can be sent who are unworthy to enjoythe privileges and comforts of home."

  "Oh, papa! dear, _dear_ papa, don't send me away from you! I should die!"she cried in accents of terror and despair, throwing her arms around hisneck and clinging to him with a convulsive grasp. "Punish me in any otherway you choose; but oh! _don't_ send me where I cannot see you."

  He gently disengaged her arms, and without returning her caress, saidgravely, and almost sadly, "Go now to your room. I have not yet decidedwhat course to take, but you have only to submit, to escape _all_punishment."

  Elsie retired, weeping bitterly, passing Adelaide as she went out.

  "What is the matter now?" asked Adelaide of her brother, who was stridingimpatiently up and down the room.

  "Nothing but the old story," he replied; "she is the most stubborn childI ever saw. Strange!" he added musingly, "I once thought her rather _too_yielding. Adelaide," he said, sitting down by his sister, and leaning hishead upon his hand, with a deep-drawn sigh, "I am _terribly_ perplexed!This estrangement is killing us both. Have you noticed how thin and paleshe is growing? It distresses me to see it; but what can I do?--give upto her I cannot; it is not once to be thought of. I am sorry I ever beganthe struggle, but since it _is_ begun she _must_ and _shall_ submit; andit has really become a serious question with me, whether it would not bethe truest kindness just to conquer her thoroughly and at once, by anappeal to the rod."

  "Oh no, Horace, don't! don't think of such a thing, I beg of you!"exclaimed Adelaide, with tears in her eyes; "such a delicate, sensitivelittle creature as she is, I do believe it would quite break her heart tobe subjected to so ignominious a punishment; surely you could adopt someother measure less revolting to one's feelings, and yet perhaps quite aseffectual. I couldn't _bear_ to have you do it. I would try everythingelse first."

  "I assure you, Adelaide, it would be _exceedingly_ painful to myfeelings," he said, "and yet so anxious am I to subdue Elsie, and endthis trying state of affairs, that were I certain of gaining my point,even by great severity, I would not hesitate a moment, but I am verydoubtful whether she could be conquered in that way, and I would notlike to undertake it unless I could carry it through. I hinted at aboarding-school, which seemed to alarm her very much; but I shall nottry it, at least not yet, for she is my only child, and I still loveher too well to give her up to the tender mercies of strangers. Ah!you don't know how strongly I was tempted to give her a kiss, just now,when she begged so hard for it. But what _shall_ I do with her,Adelaide?--have you no suggestion to make?"

  "Indeed, I don't know what to say, Horace; I shouldn't like to give upto her, if I were you; it does seem as if you ought to conquer her, andif you don't do it now, I do not believe you ever will."

  "Yes, that is just it," he said. "I have sometimes felt sorry for havingbegun the struggle, and yet perhaps it is just as well, since it musthave come sooner or later. Ten years hence I shall want to take heroccasionally to the theatre or opera, or perhaps now and then to a ball,and unless I can eradicate these ridiculously strict notions she has gotinto her head, she will be sure to rebel then, when she will be rathertoo old to punish, at least in the same way in which I might punish hernow."

  "A thought has just struck me, Horace," said Adelaide suddenly.

  "Well, what is it?" he asked.

  Adelaide hesitated. She felt some little sympathy for Elsie, and did notquite like to propose a measure which she knew would give her great pain;but at length she said, in a half-regretful tone--

  "I think, Horace, that Aunt Chloe upholds Elsie in her obstinacy, andmakes her think herself a martyr to principle, for you know she has thesame strange notions, which they both learned from the old housekeeper,Mrs. Murray, who was an old-fashioned Presbyterian, of the strictestsort; and now, as Elsie is still so young, it seems to me it might be_possible_ to change her views, if she were entir
ely removed from allsuch influences. But take notice, Horace, I do not advise it, for Iknow it would wellnigh break both their hearts."

  For a moment Mr. Dinsmore seemed lost in thought. Then he spoke:

  "That is a wise suggestion, Adelaide. I thank you for it, and shallcertainly take it into consideration. Yet it is a measure I feel loth toadopt, for Chloe has been a most faithful creature. I feel that I owe hera debt of gratitude for the excellent care she has taken of Elsie, and ofher mother before her, and as you say, I fear it would wellnigh breakboth their hearts. But if less severe measures fail, I shall feelcompelled to try it, for I am more anxious than I can tell you tobring Elsie to unconditional obedience."

  "Here is a letter for you, Elsie," said her grandfather, the nextmorning, at the breakfast-table. "Here, Pomp"--to the servant--"hand thisto Miss Elsie."

  The child's eyes sparkled with pleasure, and she held out her handeagerly to take it.

  But her father interfered.

  "No, Pomp," he said, "bring it to me; and remember, in future, that _I_am to receive _all_ Miss Elsie's letters."

  Elsie relinquished it instantly, without a word of remonstrance, but herheart was so full that she could not eat another morsel; and in spite ofall her efforts the tears would come into her eyes, as she saw her fatherdeliberately open and read the letter, and then refold and put it intohis pocket. He looked at her as he did so, and seeing the tears rollingdown her cheeks, sternly bade her leave the room,

  She obeyed, feeling more angry and rebellious toward him than she everhad before. It seemed so cruel and unjust to deprive her of her ownletters; one of Miss Rose's--as she knew it must be, for she had no othercorrespondent--which never contained anything but what was good, andkind, and comforting. They were always a great treat to the little girl,and she had been longer than usual without one, and had been lookinglongingly for it every day for several weeks past; for sad and lonely asher days now were, she felt very keenly the need of her friend's sympathyand love; and now to have this letter taken from her just as she laid herhand upon it, seemed a disappointment almost too great to be endured. Shehad a hard struggle with herself before she could put away entirely herfeelings of anger and impatience.

  "Oh! this is not honoring papa," she said to herself; "he may have goodreasons for what he has done; and as _I_ belong to him, he certainly hasa sort of right to everything that is mine. I will try to be submissive,and wait patiently until he sees fit to give me my letter, as perhaps hewill, some time."

  All the morning the thought of her letter was scarcely out of her mind,and as soon as she was released from school duties, and dressed fordinner, she went down to the drawing-room, hoping that her father mightbe there, and that he would give it to her.

  But he was not in, and when he came, brought a number of strangers withhim, who remained until after tea; so that all the afternoon passed awaywithout affording her an opportunity to speak to him. But, to her greatjoy, the visitors all left early in the evening, excepting a very mild,pleasant-looking, elderly gentleman, who had settled himself in theportico, with Enna on his knees.

  Elsie was watching her fathers movements, and was not sorry to see him,after the departure of his guests, return to the drawing-room, and takeup the evening paper.

  No one else was at that end of the room, so now, at last, she might speakto him without fear of being overheard. She was glad, too, that his backwas towards her, for she had grown very timid about approaching him oflate. She stole softly up to the back of his chair, and stood there forsome moments without speaking; her heart beat so fast with mingled hopeand fear, that it seemed impossible to command her voice.

  But at last, coming to his side, she said, in a tone so low and tremulousas to be almost inaudible, "Papa."

  "Well, Elsie, what do you want?" he asked, with his eyes still on thepaper.

  "Dear papa, I do so want to see Miss Rose's letter; won't you please giveit to me?"

  She waited a moment for a reply; then asked again, "May I not have it,papa?"

  "Yes, Elsie, you may have _that_, and _everything_ else you want, just assoon as you show yourself a submissive, obedient child."

  Tears gathered in Elsie's eyes, but she resolutely forced them back,and made one more appeal. "_Dear_ papa," she said, in pleading, tearfultones, "you don't know how I have looked and longed for that letter; andI _do want_ it so _very_ much; won't you let me see it just for a fewmoments?"

  "You have your answer, Elsie," he said coldly; "and it is the only one Ihave to give you."

  Elsie turned and walked away, silently crying as she went.

  But ere she had reached the door he called her back, and looking sternlyat her, as she again stood trembling and weeping at his side, "Remember,"he said, "that from this time forth, I forbid you to write or receive anyletters which do not pass through my hands, and I shall not allow you tocorrespond with Miss Allison, or any one else, indeed, until you become amore dutiful child."

  "Oh, papa! what will Miss Allison think if I don't answer her letter?"exclaimed Elsie, weeping bitterly.

  "I shall wait a few weeks," he said, "to see if you are going to be abetter girl, and then, if you remain stubborn, I shall write to hermyself, and tell her that I have stopped the correspondence, and myreasons for doing so."

  "Oh, papa! _dear_ papa! _please_ don't do that!" cried the little girlin great distress. "I am afraid if you do she will never love me anymore, for she will think me such a very bad child."

  "If she does, she will only have a just opinion of you," replied herfather coldly; "and _all_ your friends will soon cease to love you, ifyou continue to show such a wilful temper; my patience is almost wornout, Elsie, and I shall try some very severe measures before long, unlessyou see proper to submit. Go now to your own room; I do not wish to seeyou again to-night."

  "Good-night, papa," sobbed the little girl, as she turned to obey him.

  "Elsie, my daughter," he said, suddenly seizing her hand, and drawing herto his side, "why will you not give up this strange wilfulness, and letyour papa have his own darling again? I love you dearly, my child, and itpains me more than I can express to see you so unhappy," he added, gentlypushing back the curls from the little tear-stained face upturned to his.

  His tone had all the old fondness, and Elsie's heart thrilled at the verysound; his look, too, was tender and affectionate, and throwing down hispaper he lifted her to his knee, and passed his arm around her waist.

  Elsie laid her head against his breast, as was her wont before theirunhappy estrangement, while he passed his hand caressingly over hercurls.

  "Speak, my daughter," he said in a low tone, full of tenderness; "speak,and tell papa that he has his own dutiful little daughter again. Hisheart aches to receive her; must he do without her still?"

  The temptation to yield was very strong. She loved him, oh, how dearly!Could she bear to go on making him unhappy? And it was such _rest_--such_joy_--thus once more to feel herself folded to his heart, and hear hisdear voice speaking to her in loving, tender tones. Can it be wondered atthat for a moment Elsie wavered? On the one hand she saw her father'sfond affection, indulgent kindness, and loving caresses; on the other,banishment from his love, perhaps from home, cold, stern, harsh wordsand looks; and what more might be meant by the very severe measuresthreatened, she trembled to think.

  For a moment she was silent, for a mighty struggle was going on in herheart. It was hard, _very_ hard, to give up her father's love. But thelove of Jesus!--ah, that was more precious still!

  The struggle was past.

  "Papa," she said, raising an earnest, tearful little face to his, andspeaking in tones tremulous with emotion, "dear, _dear_ papa, I do loveyou so very, _very_ much, and I do want to be to you a good, obedientchild; but, papa, Jesus says, 'He that loveth father or mother more thanme, is not worthy of me,' and I must love Jesus best, and keep _his_commandments _always_. But you bid me say that I am sorry I refused tobreak them; and that I will yield implicit obedience to you, even though
you should command me to disobey him. Oh, papa, I cannot do _that_, eventhough you should never love me again; even though you should put me todeath."

  The cold, stern expression had returned to his face before she had halffinished, and putting her off his knee, he said, in his severest tone,"Go, disobedient, rebellious child! How often have I told you that youare too young to judge of such matters, and must leave all that to me,your father and natural guardian, whom the Bible itself commands you toobey. I will find means to conquer you yet, Elsie. If affection and mildmeasures will not do it, severity shall."

  He rose and walked hastily up and down the floor, excited and angry,while poor Elsie went weeping from the room.

  "Is that one of your sisters, my dear?" asked the old gentleman of Enna,as he saw the sobbing Elsie pass through the hall, on her way up-stairs.

  "No; that is brother Horace's daughter," replied Enna scornfully; "she isa real naughty girl, and won't mind her papa at all."

  "Ah!" said the old gentleman gravely, "I am sorry to hear it; but I hopeyou will always obey your papa."

  "Indeed, my papa lets me do _just_ as I please," said Enna, with a littletoss of her head. "_I_ don't have to mind anybody."

  "Ah! then I consider you a very unfortunate child," remarked the oldgentleman, still more gravely; "for it is by no means good for a littleone like you to have too much of her own way."

  Mr. Grier--for that was the old gentleman's name--had been muchinterested in the little Elsie's appearance. He had noticed the lookof sadness on her fair young face, and conjectured, from somethingin the manner of the rest of the family toward her, that she was indisgrace; yet he was sure there was no stubbornness or self-will in theexpression of that meek and gentle countenance. He began to suspect thatsome injustice had been done the little girl, and determined to watch andsee if she were indeed the naughty child she was represented to be, andif he found her as good as he was inclined to believe, to try to gainher confidence, and see if he could help her out of her troubles.

  But Elsie did not come down again that evening, and though he saw her atthe breakfast-table the next morning, she slipped away so immediatelyafter the conclusion of the meal, that he had no opportunity to speak toher; and at dinner it was just the same.

  But in the afternoon, seeing her walk out alone, he put on his hat andfollowed at a little distance. She was going toward the quarter, and hepresently saw her enter a cabin where, he had been told, a poor oldcolored woman was lying ill, perhaps on her death-bed.

  Very quietly he drew near the door of the hut, and seating himself on alow bench on the outside, found that he could both see and hear all thatwas going on without himself being perceived, as Elsie had her back tothe door, and poor old Dinah was blind.

  "I have come to read to you again, Aunt Dinah," said the little girl, inher sweet, gentle tones.

  "Tank you, my young missus; you is bery kind," replied the old womanfeebly.

  Elsie had already opened her little Bible, and in the same sweet, gentlevoice in which she had spoken, she now read aloud the third chapter ofSt. John's gospel.

  When she had finished reading the sixteenth verse--"God so loved theworld that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in himshould not perish, but have everlasting life,"--she paused and exclaimed,"Oh! Aunt Dinah, is not that beautiful? Does it not make you glad? Yousee it does not say whosoever is good and holy, or whosoever has notsinned, but it is whosoever believes in Jesus, the only begotten Son ofGod. If it was only the good, Aunt Dinah, you and I could never hope tobe saved, because we are both great sinners."

  "Not you, Miss Elsie! not you, darlin'," interrupted the old woman; "oleDinah's a great sinner, she knows dat well nuff--but you, darlin', younever did nuffin bad."

  "Yes, Dinah," said the little voice in saddened tones, "I have a verywicked heart, and have been a sinner all my life; but I know that Jesusdied to save sinners, and that whosoever believes in him shall haveeternal life, and I do believe, and I want you to believe, and then you,too, will be saved."

  "Did de good Lord Jesus die for poor ole Dinah, Miss Elsie?" she askedeagerly.

  "Yes, Aunt Dinah, if you will believe in him; it says for _whosoeverbelieveth_."

  "Ole Dinah dunno how to believe, chile; can't do it nohow."

  "You must ask God to teach you, Dinah," replied the little girlearnestly, "for the Bible says 'faith'--that means believing--'is thegift of God.'"

  "You don't mean _dat_, Miss Elsie! You don't mean dat God will save poorole Dinah, an' gib her hebben, an' all for nuffin?" she inquired, raisingherself on her elbow in her eagerness.

  "Yes, Dinah; God says without money and without price; can't you believehim? Suppose I should come and put a hundred dollars in your hand,saying, 'Here, Aunt Dinah, I _give_ you this; you are old, and sick, andpoor, and I know you can do nothing to earn it, but it is a _free_ gift,just _take_ it and it is yours;' wouldn't you believe me, and take it?"

  "_'Deed_ I would, Miss Elsie, kase you nebber tole nuffin but de truff."

  "Well, then, can't you believe God when he says that he will save you?Can't you believe Jesus when he says, 'I _give_ unto them eternal life'?"

  "Yes, yes, Miss Elsie! I do b'lieve; read de blessed words again,darlin'."

  Elsie read the verse again, and then finished the Chapter. Then closingthe book, she asked softly,

  "Shall we pray, now, Aunt Dinah?"

  Dinah gave an eager assent; and Elsie, kneeling down by the bedside,prayed in simple, childlike words that Jesus would reveal himself to poorold Dinah, as _her_ Saviour; that the Holy Spirit would be her sanctifierand comforter, working faith in her, and thereby uniting her to Christ;that God would adopt her into his family, and be her God and portionforever; and that Jesus would be her shepherd, so that she need fear noevil, even though called to pass through the dark valley of the shadow ofdeath.

  "Amen!" was Dinah's fervent response to each of the petitions.

  "De good Lord bless you, darlin'," she said, taking Elsie's little whitehand in hers, and pressing it to her lips; "de good Lord bless an' keepyou, an' nebber let trouble come near you. You knows nuffin 'bout troublenow, for you's young, an' handsome, an' rich, an' good; an' Massa Horace,he doats on you; no, _you_ knows nuffin 'bout trouble, but ole Dinahdoes, kase she's ole, an' sick, an' full ob aches and pains."

  "Yes, Aunt Dinah, and I am very sorry for you; but remember, if youbelieve in Jesus, you will soon go to heaven, where you will never besick or in pain any more. But, Dinah,"--and the little voice grew verymournful--"we cannot always know when others are in trouble; and I wantyou to pray for me that I may always have strength to do right."

  "I will, darlin', 'deed I will," said Dinah earnestly, kissing the littlehand again ere she released it.

  As Elsie ceased speaking, Mr. Grier slipped quietly away, and continuedhis walk. From what he had just seen and heard, he felt fully convincedthat Elsie was not the wicked, disobedient child Enna had representedher to be; yet he knew that Enna was not alone in her opinion, since itwas very evident that Elsie was in disgrace with the whole family--herfather especially--and that she was very unhappy. He felt his heart drawnout in sympathy for the child, and longed to be able to assist her inregaining her father's favor, yet he knew not how to do it, for how washe to learn the facts in the case without seeming to pry into the familysecrets of his kind entertainers? But there was one comfort he could dofor her--what she had so earnestly asked of Dinah--and he would. As hecame to this resolution he turned about and began to retrace his stepstoward the house. To his surprise and pleasure, upon turning around athicket, he came suddenly upon Elsie herself, seated upon a bench undera tree, bending over her little Bible, which lay open on her lap, andupon which her quiet tears were dropping, one by one.

  She did not seem aware of his presence, and he stood a moment gazingcompassionately upon her, ere he spoke.

  "My dear little girl, what is the matter?" he asked in a gentle tone,full of sympathy and kindness, seating himself by he
r side.

  Elsie started, and raising her head, hastily brushed away her tears.

  "Good evening, sir," she said, blushing painfully, "I did not know youwere here."

  "You must excuse my seeming intrusion," replied the old gentleman, takingher hand in his. "I came upon you unawares, not knowing you were here;but now that we have met, will you not tell me the cause of your grief?Perhaps I may be able to assist you."

  "No, sir," she said, "you could not do anything for me; but I thank youvery much for your kindness."

  "I think," said he, after a moment's pause, "that I know something ofyour trouble; you have offended your father; is it not so, my dear?"

  Elsie answered only by her tears, and he went on.

  Laying his hand upon the Bible, "Submission to parents, my dear child,"he said, "you know is enjoined in this blessed book; children are herecommanded to honor and obey their father and mother; it is _God's_command, and if you love his holy word, you will obey its precepts.Surely your father will forgive, and receive you into favor, if you showyourself penitent and submissive?"

  "I love my papa very, _very_ dearly," replied Elsie, weeping, "and I dowant to obey him; but he does not love Jesus, and sometimes he bids mebreak God's commandments, and then I cannot obey him."

  "Is that it, my poor child?" said her friend pityingly. "Then you areright in not obeying; but be _very sure_ that your father's commands_are_ opposed to those of God, before you refuse obedience; and be verycareful to obey him in all things in which you can conscientiously doso."

  "I do try, sir," replied Elsie meekly.

  "Then be comforted, my dear little girl. God has surely sent you thistrial for some wise and kind purpose, and in his own good time he willremove it. Only be patient and submissive. He can change your father'sheart, and for that you and I will both pray."

  Elsie looked her thanks as they rose to return to the house, but herheart was too full for speech, and she walked silently along beside hernew friend, who continued to speak words of comfort and encouragementto her, until they reached the door, where he bade her good-by, sayingthat he was sorry he was not likely to see her again, as he must leaveRoselands that afternoon, but promising not to forget her in his prayers.

  When Elsie reached her room, Chloe told her her father had sent word thatshe was to come to him as soon as she returned from her walk, and thatshe would find him in his dressing-room.

  Chloe had taken off the little girl's hat and smoothed her hair ereshe delivered the message, and with a beating heart Elsie proceededimmediately to obey it.

  In answer to her timid knock, her father himself opened the door.

  "Mammy told me that you wanted me, papa," she said in a tremulous voice,and looking up timidly into his face.

  "Yes, I sent for you; come in," he replied; and taking her by the handhe led her forward to the arm-chair from which he had just risen, wherehe again seated himself, making her stand before him very much like aculprit in the presence of her judge.

  There was a moment's pause, in which Elsie stood with her head bentdown and her eyes upon the carpet, trembling with apprehension, and notknowing what new trial might be in store for her. Then she ventured tolook at her father.

  His face was sad and distressed, but very stern.

  "Elsie," he began at length, speaking in slow, measured tones, "I toldyou last evening that should you still persist in your resistance to myauthority, I should feel compelled to take severe measures with you. Ihave now decided what those measures are to be. Henceforth, so long asyou continue rebellious, you are to be banished entirely from the familycircle; your meals must be taken in your own apartment, and though Ishall not reduce your fare to bread and water, it will be very plain--nosweetmeats--no luxuries of any kind. I shall also deprive you entirely ofpocket-money, and of all books excepting your Bible and school-books, andforbid you either to pay or receive any visits, telling all who inquirefor you, why you cannot be seen. You are also to understand that I forbidyou to enter any apartment in the house excepting your own and theschool-room--unless by my express permission--and never to go out at all,even to the garden, excepting to take your daily exercise, accompaniedalways and only by a servant. You are to go on with your studies asusual, but need not expect to be spoken to by any one but your teacher,as I shall request the others to hold no communication with you. This isyour sentence. It goes into effect this very hour, but becomes null andvoid the moment you come to me with acknowledgments of penitence for thepast, and promises of implicit obedience for the future."

  Elsie stood like a statue; her hands clasped, and her eyes fixed upon thefloor. She had grown very pale while her father was speaking, and therewas a slight quivering of the eyelids and of the muscles of the mouth,but she showed no other sign of emotion.

  "Did you hear me, Elsie?" he asked.

  "Yes, papa," she murmured, in a tone so low it scarcely reached his ear.

  "Well, have you anything to say for yourself before I send you back toyour room?" he asked in a somewhat softened tone.

  He felt a little alarmed at the child's unnatural calmness; but it wasall gone in a moment. Sinking upon her knees she burst into a fit ofpassionate weeping. "Oh! papa, papa!" she sobbed, raising her streamingeyes to his face, "will you never, _never_ love me any more?--must Inever come near you, or speak to you again?"

  He was much moved.

  "I did not say _that_, Elsie," he replied. "I hope most sincerely thatyou _will_ come to me before long with the confessions and promises Irequire; and then, as I have told you so often, I will take you to myheart again, as fully as ever. Will you not do it at once, and spare methe painful necessity of putting my sentence into execution?" he asked,raising her gently, and drawing her to his side.

  "Dear papa, you know I cannot," she sobbed.

  "Then return at once to your room; my sentence must be enforced, thoughit break both your heart and mine, for I _will_ be obeyed. _Go_!" hesaid, sternly putting her from him. And weeping and sobbing, feeling likea homeless, friendless outcast from society, Elsie went back to her room.

  The next two or three weeks were very sad and dreary ones to the poorlittle girl. Her father's sentence was rigidly enforced; she scarcelyever saw him excepting at a distance, and when once or twice he passedher in going in and out, he neither looked at nor spoke to her. Miss Daytreated her with all her former severity and injustice, and no one elsebut the servants ever addressed her.

  She went out every day for an hour or two, in obedience to her father'scommand, but her walks and rides were sad and lonely; and during the restof the day she felt like a prisoner, for she dared not venture even intothe garden, where she had always been in the habit of passing the greaterpart of her leisure hours, in the summer season.

  But debarred from all other pleasures, Elsie read her Bible more and moreconstantly, and with ever increasing delight; it was more than meat anddrink to her; she there found consolation under every affliction, asolace for every sorrow. Her trial was a heavy one; her little heartoften ached sadly with its intense longing for an earthly father's loveand favor; yet in the midst of it all, she was conscious of a deep,abiding peace, flowing from a sweet sense of pardoned sin, and aconsciousness of a Saviour's love.

  At first Elsie greatly feared that she would not be allowed to attendchurch, as usual, on the Sabbath. But Mr. Dinsmore did not care to excitetoo much remark, and so, as Elsie had always been very regular in herattendance, to her great joy she was still permitted to go.

  No one spoke to her, however, or seemed to take the least notice of her;but she sat by her father's side, as usual, both in the carriage and inthe pew, and there was some pleasure even in that, though she scarcelydared even to lift her eyes to his face. Once during the sermon, on thethird Sabbath after their last interview, she ventured to do so, and wasso overcome by the sight of his pale, haggard looks, that utterly unableto control her emotion, she burst into tears, and almost sobbed aloud.

  "Elsie," he said, bending down, and speaking in
a stern whisper, "you_must control_ yourself."

  And with a mighty effort she swallowed down her tears and sobs.

  He took no further notice of her until they were again at their own door,when, lifting her from the carriage, he took her by the hand and led herto his own room. Shutting the door, he said sternly, "Elsie, what did youmean by behaving so in church? I was ashamed of you."

  "I could not help it, papa; indeed I could not," replied the little girl,again bursting into tears.

  "What were you crying about? tell me at once," he said, sitting down andtaking off her bonnet, while she stood trembling before him.

  "Oh, papa! dear, _dear_ papa!" she cried, suddenly throwing her armsround his neck, and laying her cheek to his; "I love you so much, thatwhen I looked at you, and saw how pale and thin you were, I couldn't helpcrying."

  "I do not understand, nor want such love, Elsie," he said gravely,putting her from him; "it is not the right kind, or it would lead youto be docile and obedient. You certainly deserve punishment for yourbehavior this morning, and I am much inclined to say that you shall notgo to church again for some time."

  "Please, papa, don't say that," she replied tearfully; "I will try neverto do so again."

  "Well," he replied, after a moment's reflection, "I shall punish youto-day by depriving you of your dinner, and if you repeat the offence Ishall whip you."

  Elsie's little face flushed crimson.

  "I know it is an ignominious punishment, Elsie," said her father, "andI feel very loth to try it with you, but I greatly fear I shall becompelled to do so before I can subdue your rebellious spirit; it willbe the _very last_ resort, however. Go now to your room."

  This last threat might almost be said to have given Elsie a new dread;for though his words on several former occasions had seemed to implysomething of the sort, she had always put away the thought as that ofsomething too dreadful to happen. But now he had spoken plainly, and thetrial to her seemed inevitable, for she could never give the requiredpromise, and she knew, too, that he prided himself on keeping his word,to the very letter.

  Poor little girl! she felt very much like a martyr in prospect of tortureor the stake. For a time she was in deep distress; but she carried _this_trouble, like all the rest, to her Saviour, and found relief; manyprecious, comforting texts being brought to her mind: "The king's heartis in the hand of the Lord as the rivers of water: he turneth itwhithersoever he will." "My grace is sufficient for thee." "As thy days,so shall thy strength be." These, and others of a like import, came toher remembrance in this hour of fear and dread, and assured her that herheavenly Father would either save her from that trial, or give herstrength to endure it; and she grew calm and peaceful again.

  "The name of the Lord is a strong tower; the righteous runneth into itand is safe."