ELSIE'S NEW RELATIONS
What They Did and How They Fared at Ion
A Sequel to _Grandmother Elsie_
by
MARTHA FINLEY
A. L. Burt CompanyPublishersNew York Chicago
1911
CHAPTER I.
"For wild, or calm, or far or near, I love thee still, thou glorious sea." --Mrs. Hemans.
"I bless thee for kind looks and words Shower'd on my path like dew, For all the love in those deep eyes, A gladness ever new." --Mrs. Hemans.
It is late in the afternoon of a delicious October day; the woods back ofthe two cottages where the Dinsmores, Travillas and Raymonds have spentthe last three or four months are gorgeous with scarlet, crimson and gold;the air from the sea is more delightful than ever, but the summer visitorsto the neighboring cottages and hotels have fled, and the beach is almostdeserted, as Edward and his child-wife wander slowly along it, hand inhand, their attention divided between the splendors of a magnificentsunset and the changing beauty of the sea; yonder away in the distance itis pale gray; near at hand delicate green slowly changing to pink, eachwave crested with snowy foam, and anon they all turn to burnished gold.
"Oh, how very beautiful!" cries Zoe, in an ecstasy of delight. "Edward,did you ever see anything finer?"
"Never! Let us go down this flight of steps and seat ourselves on the nextto the lowest. We will then be quite near the waves and yet out of dangerof being wet by them."
He led her down as he spoke, seated her comfortably and himself by herside with his arm around her.
"I've grown very fond of the sea," she remarked. "I shall be sorry toleave it. Will not you?"
"Yes and no," he answered, doubtfully. "I, too, am fond of old ocean, buteager to get to Ion and begin life in earnest. Isn't it time, seeing Ihave been a married man for nearly five months? But why that sigh, love?"
"O Edward, are you not sorry you are married? Are you not sometimes verymuch ashamed of me?" she asked, her cheek burning hotly and the downcasteyes filling with tears.
"Ashamed of you, Zoe? Why, darling, you are my heart's best treasure," hesaid, drawing her closer to his side, and touching his lips to herforehead. "What has put so absurd an idea into your head?"
"I know so little, so very little compared with your mother and sisters,"she sighed. "I'm finding it out more and more every day, as I hear themtalk among themselves and to other people."
"But you are younger than any of them, a very great deal younger thanmamma, and will have time to catch up to them."
"But I'm a married woman and so can't go to school any more. Ah," withanother and very heavy sigh, "I wish papa hadn't been quite so indulgent,or that I'd had sense enough not to take advantage of it to the neglect ofmy studies!"
"No, I suppose it would hardly do to send you to school, even if I couldspare you--which I can't," he returned laughingly, "but there is apossibility of studying at home, under a governess or tutor. What do yousay to offering yourself as a pupil to grandpa?"
"Oh, no, no! I'm sure he can be very stern upon occasion. I've seen it inhis eyes when I've made a foolish remark that he didn't approve, and Ishould be too frightened to learn if he were my teacher."
"Then some one else must be thought of," Edward said, with a look ofamusement. "How would I answer?"
"You? Oh, splendidly!"
"You are not afraid of me?"
"No, indeed!" she cried, with a merry laugh and a saucy look up into hisface.
"And yet I'm the only person who has authority over you."
"Authority, indeed!" with a little contemptuous sniff.
"You promised to obey, you know."
"Did I? Well, maybe so, but that's just a form that doesn't really meananything. Most any married woman will tell you that."
"Do you consider the whole of your marriage vow an unmeaning form, Zoe?"he asked, with sudden gravity and a look of doubt and pain in his eyesthat she could not bear to see.
"No, no! I was only in jest," she said, dropping her eyes and blushingdeeply. "But really, Edward, you don't think, do you, that wives are toobey like children?"
"No, love, I don't; and I think in a true marriage the two are so entirelyone--so unselfishly desirous each to please the other--that there islittle or no clashing of wills. Thus far ours has seemed such to me. Howis it, do you think, little wife?"
"I hope so, Edward," she said, laying her head on his shoulder, "I knowone thing--that there is nothing in this world I care so much for as toplease you and be all and everything to you."
"And I can echo your words from my very heart, dearest," he said,caressing her. "I hope you are at home and happy among your newrelatives."
"Yes, indeed, Edward, especially with mamma. She is the dearest, kindestmother in the world; to me as much as to her own children, and oh, so wiseand good!"
"You are not sorry now that you and I are not to live alone?" he queried,with a pleased smile.
"No, oh, no! I'm ever so glad that she is to keep house at Ion and all ofus to live together as one family."
"Except Lester and Elsie," he corrected; "they will be with us for a shorttime, then go to Fairview for the winter. And it will probably becometheir home after that, as mamma will buy it, if Mr. Leland--Lester'suncle, who owns the place--carries out his intention of removing toCalifornia. His children have settled there, and, of course, the fatherand mother want to be with them."
The sun had set, and all the bright hues had faded from the sea, leavingit a dull gray.
"What a deserted spot this seems!" remarked Zoe, "and only the other dayit was gay with crowds of people. Nobody to be seen now but ourselves,"glancing up and down the coast as she spoke. "Ah, yes! yonder is someonesitting on that piece of wreck."
"It is Lulu Raymond," Edward said, following the direction of her glance."It is late for the child to be out so far from home; a full mile I shouldsay. I'll go and invite her to walk back with us."
"No, you needn't," said Zoe, "for see, there is her father going to her.But let us go home, for I must change my dress before tea."
"And we want time to walk leisurely along," returned Edward, rising andgiving her his hand to help her up the steps.
Lulu was reading, so absorbed in the story that she did not perceive herfather's approach, and as he accosted her with, "It is late for you to behere alone, my child, you should have come in an hour ago," she gave agreat start, and involuntarily tried to hide her book.
"What have you there? Evidently something you do not wish your father tosee," he said, bending down and taking it from her unwilling hand.
"Ah, I don't wonder!" as he hurriedly turned over a few pages. "A dimenovel! Where did you get this, Lulu?"
"It's Max's, papa, he lent it to me. O papa, what made you do that?" aswith an energetic fling the captain suddenly sent it far out into the sea."Max made me promise to take care of it and give it back to him, andbesides I wanted to finish the story."
"Neither you nor Max shall ever read such poisonous stuff as that with myknowledge and consent," replied the captain in stern accents.
"Papa, I didn't think you'd be so unkind," grumbled Lulu, her faceexpressing extreme vexation and disappointment, "or that you would throwaway other people's things."
"Unkind, my child?" he said, sitting down beside her and taking her handin his. "Suppose you had gathered a quantity of beautiful, sweet-tastedberries that I knew to be poisonous, and were about to eat them; would itbe unkind in me to snatch them out of your hand and throw them into thesea?"
"No, sir; because it would kill me to eat them, but that book couldn'tkill me, or even make me sick."
"No, not your body, but it would injure your
soul, which is worth farmore. I'm afraid I have been too negligent in regard to the mental food ofmy children," he went on after a slight pause, rather as if thinking aloudthan talking to Lulu, "and unfortunately I cannot take the oversight of itconstantly in the future. But remember, Lulu," he added firmly, "I whollyforbid dime novels, and you are not to read anything without firstobtaining the approval of your father or one of those under whoseauthority he has placed you."
Lulu's face was full of sullen discontent and anger. "Papa," she said, "Idon't like to obey those people."
"If you are wise, you will try to like what has to be," he said.
"It wouldn't have to be if you would only say I needn't, papa."
"I shall not say that, Lucilla," he answered with grave displeasure. "Youneed guidance and control even more than most children of your age, and Ishould not be doing my duty if I left you without them."
"I don't like to obey people that are no relation to me!" she cried,viciously kicking away a little heap of sand.
"No, you don't even like to obey your father," he said with a sigh. "Maxand Gracie together do not give me half the anxiety that you do by yourwilful temper."
"Why, can't I do as I please as well as grown people?" she asked in a moresubdued tone.
"Even grown people have to obey," said her father. "I am now expectingorders from the government, and must obey them when they come. I must obeymy superior officers, and the officers and men under me must obey me. Somust my children. God gave you to me and requires me to train you up inHis fear and service to the best of my ability. I should not be doing thatif I allowed you to read such hurtful trash as that I just took fromyou."
"It was Max's, papa, and I promised to give it back. What shall I say whenhe asks me for it?"
"Tell him to come to me about it."
"Papa----"
"Well, what is it?" he asked, as she paused and hesitated.
"Please, papa, don't punish him. You never told him not to buy or readsuch things, did you?"
"No; and I think he would not have done so in defiance of a prohibitionfrom me. So I shall not punish him. But I am pleased that you should pleadfor him. I am very glad that my children all love one another."
"Yes, indeed we do, papa!" she said, "And we all love you, and you loveMax and Gracie very much, and----"
"And Lulu also," he said, putting his arm about her and drawing her closerto his side, as she paused with quivering lip and downcast eyes.
"As much as you do Max and Gracie?" she asked brokenly, hiding her face onhis shoulder. "You said just now I was naughtier than both of them puttogether."
"Yet you are my own dear child, and it is precisely because I love you sodearly that I am so distressed over your quick temper and wilfulness. Ifear that if not conquered they will cause great unhappiness to yourselfas well as to your friends. I want you to promise me, daughter, that youwill try to conquer them, asking God to help you."
"I will, papa," she said, with unwonted humility; "but, oh, I wish youwere going to stay with us! It's easier to be good with you than withanybody else."
"I am sorry, indeed, that I cannot," he said, rising and taking her hand."Come, we must go back to the house now."
They moved along in silence for a little, then Lulu said, with anaffectionate look up into her father's face, "Papa, I do so like to walkthis way!"
"How do you mean?" he asked, smiling kindly upon her.
"With my hand in yours, papa. You know I haven't often had the chance."
"No, my poor child," he sighed, "that is one of the deprivations to whicha seaman and his family have to submit."
"Well," said the little girl, lifting his hand to her lips, "I'd ratherhave you for my father than anybody else, for all that."
At that he bent down and kissed her with a smile full of pleasure andfatherly affection.
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