CHAPTER VII.
"Alone! alone! how drear it isAlways to be alone!"
WILLES
It was only a few days after Adelaide had suggested to her brother thepropriety of separating Elsie from her nurse, that he had the offer of avery fine estate in the immediate neighborhood of his father'splantation.
Mr. Granville, the present owner, was about removing to a distant partof the country, and having become somewhat reduced in circumstances, wasanxious to sell, and as the place suited Mr. Dinsmore exactly, they werenot long in coming to an arrangement, satisfactory to both, by which itpassed into his hands.
Horace Dinsmore had inherited a large fortune from his mother, and havingplenty of money at his command, he immediately set about making sundryimprovements upon his new purchase; laying out the grounds, and repairingand enlarging the already fine old mansion, adding all the modernconveniences, and furnishing it in the most tasteful and elegant style.
And so "Rumor, with her thousand tongues," soon had it noised abroad thathe was about to bring home a second wife, and to that cause manyattributed Elsie's pale and altered looks.
Such, however, was not Mr. Dinsmore's intention.
"I must have a housekeeper," he said to Adelaide. "I shall send Chloethere. She will do very well for the present, and it will give me theopportunity I desire of separating her from Elsie, while in the meantimeI can be looking out for a better."
"But you are not going to leave us yourself, Horace?" said his sisterinquiringly.
"Not immediately, Adelaide; I intend to end this controversy with Elsiefirst, and I indulge the hope that the prospect of sharing such a homewith me as soon as she submits, will go far towards subduing her."
Mr. Dinsmore shrank from the thought of Elsie's grief, if forced to partfrom her nurse; but he was not a man to let his own feelings, or those ofothers, prevent him from carrying out any purpose he had formed, if, asin this case, he could persuade himself that he was doing right. Andso--all his arrangements being now made--the very morning after his lateinterview with Elsie, Chloe was summoned to his presence.
He informed her of his purchase, and that it was his intention to sendher there to take charge of his house and servants, for the present.
Chloe, who was both extremely surprised and highly flattered by thisproof of her young master's confidence, looked very much delighted, as,with a low courtesy, she expressed her thanks, and her willingness toundertake the charge. But a sudden thought struck her, and she askedanxiously if "her child" was to go with her.
Mr. Dinsmore said "_No_," very decidedly; and when Chloe told him thatthat being the case, she would much rather stay where she was, if hewould let her, he said she could not have any choice in the matter; _she_must go, and Elsie must stay.
Chloe burst into an agony of tears and sobs, begging to know why she wasto be separated from the child she had loved and cherished ever since herbirth; the child committed to her charge by her dying mother? What hadshe done to so displease her master, that he had determined to subjecther to such a bitter trial?
Mr. Dinsmore was a good deal moved by her grief, but still not to beturned from his purpose. He merely waited until she had grown somewhatcalmer, and then, in a tone of great kindness, but with much firmness anddecision, replied, "that he was not angry with her; that he knew she hadbeen very faithful in her kind care of his wife and child, and he shouldalways take care of her, and see that she was made comfortable as long asshe lived; but, for reasons which he did not think necessary to explain,he considered it best to separate her from Elsie for a time; he knew itwould be hard for them both, but it _must_ be done, and tears andentreaties would be utterly useless; she must prepare to go to her newhome that very afternoon."
So saying he dismissed her, and she went back to Elsie's room wellnighheart-broken; and there the little girl found her when she came in fromschool duties, sitting beside the trunk she had just finished packing,crying and sobbing as she had never seen her before.
"Oh, mammy, mammy! what _is_ the matter? _dear_ old mammy, what ailsyou?" she asked, running to her, and throwing her arms around her neck.
Chloe clasped her to her breast, sobbing out that she must leave her."Massa Horace was going to send her away from her precious child."
Elsie was fairly stunned by the announcement, and for a moment could notspeak one word. To be separated from her beloved nurse who had alwaystaken care of her!--who seemed almost necessary to her existence. It wassuch a calamity as even her worst fears had never suggested, for theynever had been parted, even for a single day; but wherever the littlegirl went, if to stay more than a few hours, her faithful attendant hadalways accompanied her, and she had never thought of the possibility ofdoing without her.
She unclasped her arms from Chloe's neck, disengaging herself from herloving grasp, stood for a moment motionless and silent; then, suddenlysinking down upon her nurse's lap, again wound her arms about her neck,and hid her face on her bosom, sobbing wildly: "Oh, mammy, mammy! youshall not go! Stay with me, mammy! I've nobody to love me now but you,and my heart will break if you leave me. Oh, mammy, say that you won'tgo!"
Chloe could not speak, but she took the little form again in her arms,and pressed it to her bosom in a close and fond embrace, while theymingled their tears and sobs together.
But Elsie started up suddenly.
"I will go to papa!" she exclaimed; "I will beg him on my knees to letyou stay! I will tell him it will kill me to be parted from my dear oldmammy."
"'Tain't no use, darlin'! Massa Horace, he say I _must_ go; an' you knowwhat dat means, well as I do," said Chloe, shaking her head mournfully;"he won't let me stay, nohow."
"But I must try, mammy," Elsie answered, moving toward the door. "I thinkpapa loves me a little yet, and maybe he will listen."
But she met a servant in the hall who told her that her father had goneout, and that she heard him say he would not return before tea-time.
And Chloe was to go directly after dinner; so there was no hope of areprieve, nothing to do but submit as best they might to the sadnecessity of parting; and Elsie went back to her room again, to spendthe little time that remained in her nurse's arms, sobbing out herbitter grief upon her breast. It was indeed a hard, hard trial to themboth; yet neither uttered one angry or complaining word against Mr.Dinsmore.
Fanny, one of the maids, brought up Elsie's dinner, but she could noteat. Chloe's appetite, too, had failed entirely; so they remained lockedin each other's embrace until Jim came to the door to tell Chloe thecarriage was waiting which was to convey her to her new home.
Once more she strained her nursling to her breast, sobbing out the words:"Good-by, darlin'! de good Lord bless an' keep you forebber an' ebber,an' nebber leave you alone."
"Oh, mammy, mammy, don't leave me!" almost shrieked the child, clingingto her with a convulsive grasp.
"Don't now, darlin'! don't go for to break dis ole heart! You knows I_must_ go," said Chloe, gently disengaging herself. "We'll ask de Lord tobring us together again soon, dear chile, an' I think he will 'forelong," she whispered in Elsie's ear; and with another fond caress sheleft her all drowned in tears, and half fainting with grief.
An hour might have passed--it seemed longer than that to Elsie--whenthe door opened, and she started up from the sofa, where she had flungherself in the first abandonment of her sorrow. But it was only Fanny,come to tell her that Jim had brought her horse to the door, and toprepare her for her ride.
She quietly submitted to being dressed; but, ah! how strange it seemed tohave any other than Chloe's hands busy about her! It swelled her youngheart wellnigh to bursting, though Fanny, who evidently understood herbusiness well, was very kind and attentive, and full of unobtrusivesympathy and love for her young charge.
The brisk ride in the fresh air did Elsie good, and she returned quitecalm and composed, though still very sad.
Fanny was in waiting to arrange her dress again, and when that was done,went down to bring up her supper. It was mo
re tempting than usual, butElsie turned from it with loathing.
"Do, Miss Elsie, _please_ do try to eat a little," urged Fanny, withtears in her eyes. "What will Massa Horace say if he axes me 'bout youreatin' an' I'm 'bliged to tell him you didn't eat never a mouthful ofdinner, an' likewise not the first crumb of your supper?"
That, as Fanny well knew, was a powerful argument with Elsie, who,dreading nothing so much as her father's displeasure, which was sure tobe excited by such a report of her conduct, sat down at once and did herbest to make a substantial meal.
Fanny was not more than half satisfied with the result of her efforts;but seeing it was useless to press her any further, silently cleared awaythe tea-things and carried them down-stairs, and Elsie was left alone.
Alone! She looked around upon the familiar furniture with a strangefeeling of desolation; an over-powering sense of loneliness came overher; she missed the dear face that had been familiar to her from herearliest infancy, and had ever looked so lovingly upon her; the kind armswont to fold her in a fond embrace to that heart ever beating with suchtrue, unalterable affection for her; that breast, where she might everlean her aching head, and pour out all her sorrows, sure of sympathy andcomfort.
She could not stay there, but passing quickly out on to the balconyupon which the windows of her room opened, she stood leaning againstthe railing, her head resting upon the top of it, and the silent tearsdropping one by one upon the floor.
"Oh, mammy, mammy!" she murmured half aloud, "why did you leave your poorheart-broken child? How can I live without you--without any one to loveme?"
"Elsie," said Mr. Dinsmore's voice, close at her side, "I suppose youthink me a very cruel father thus to separate you from your nurse. Is itnot so?"
"Papa, dear papa, don't say that," she cried with a burst of sobs andtears, as she turned hastily round, and taking his hand in both of hers,looked up pleadingly into his face. "I know you have a right to do it,papa; I know I belong to you, and you have a right to do as you will withme, and I will try to submit without murmuring, but I cannot help feelingsad, and shedding some tears."
"I am not blaming you for crying now; it is quite excusable under thecircumstances," he replied in a slightly softened tone, adding, "I takeno pleasure in causing you sorrow, Elsie; and though I have sent awayyour nurse, I have provided you with another servant, who will, I think,be respectful and kind, and attentive to all your wishes. If she is not,you have only to complain to me, and she shall be at once removed, andher place supplied by another. And I have good reasons for what I amdoing. You have resisted my authority for a long time now, and I must trythe effect of placing you under new influences. I fear Chloe has, atleast tacitly, encouraged you in your rebellion, and therefore I intendto keep you apart until you have learned to be submissive and obedient."
"Dear papa," replied the little girl meekly, "you wrong poor mammy, ifyou think she would ever uphold me in disobedience to you; for on thecontrary, she has always told me that I ought, on all occasions, to yielda ready and cheerful obedience to every command, or even _wish_ of yours,unless it was contrary to the word of God."
"There! that is just it!" said he, interrupting her with a frown; "sheand Mrs. Murray have brought you up to believe that you and they arewiser and more capable of interpreting the Bible, and deciding questionsof right and wrong, than your father; and that is precisely the notionthat I am determined to get out of your head."
She opened her lips to reply, but bidding her be silent, he turned toleave her; but she clung to him, looking beseechingly up into his face.
"Well," he said, "what is it--what do you want?"
She struggled for utterance.
"Oh, papa!" she sobbed, "I feel so sad and lonely to-night--will you notsit down a little while and take me on your knee?--my heart aches so tolay my head against you just for one moment. Oh, papa, dear papa, willyou not let me--will you not kiss me once, _just once_? You know I am allalone!--_all alone_!"
He could not resist her pleading looks and piteous accents. A teartrembled in his eye, and hastily seating himself, he drew her to hisknee, folded her for an instant in his arms, laid her head against hisbreast, kissed her lips, her brow, her cheek; and then putting her fromhim, without speaking a word, walked quickly away.
Elsie stood for a moment where he had left her, then sinking on her kneesbefore the sofa, whence he had just risen, she laid her head down uponit, weeping and sobbing most bitterly, "Oh! papa, papa! oh, mammy, mammy,dear, dear mammy! you are all gone, all gone! and I am alone! alone! allalone!--nobody to love me--nobody to speak to me. Oh, mammy! Oh, papa!come back, come back to me--to your poor little Elsie, for my heart isbreaking."
Alas! that caress, so earnestly pleaded for, had only by contrastincreased her sense of loneliness and desolation. But in the midst ofher bitter grief a loving, gentle voice came to her ear, whispering insweetest tones, "_I_ will _never_ leave thee, nor forsake thee." "Whenthy father and thy mother forsake thee, I, the Lord, will take thee up.""I will deliver thee in six troubles; yea, in seven there shall no eviltouch thee." And the sobs were hushed--the tears flowed more quietly,until at length they ceased altogether, and the little sorrowing onefell asleep.
"As one whom his mother comforteth, so will I comfort you; and ye shallbe comforted."
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