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ELSIE DINSMORE
BY
MARTHA FINLEY
CHAPTER FIRST
"I never saw an eye so bright, And yet so soft as hers; It sometimes swam in liquid light, And sometimes swam in tears; It seemed a beauty set apart For softness and for sighs." --MRS. WELBY.
The school-room at Roselands was a very pleasant apartment; theceiling, it is true, was somewhat lower than in the more modern portionof the building, for the wing in which it was situated dated back tothe old-fashioned days prior to the Revolution, while the larger partof the mansion had not stood more than twenty or thirty years; but theeffect was relieved by windows reaching from floor to ceiling, andopening on a veranda which overlooked a lovely flower-garden, beyondwhich were fields and woods and hills. The view from the veranda wasvery beautiful, and the room itself looked most inviting, with its neatmatting, its windows draped with snow-white muslin, its comfortablechairs, and pretty rosewood desks.
Within this pleasant apartment sat Miss Day with her pupils, six innumber. She was giving a lesson to Enna, the youngest, the spoileddarling of the family, the pet and plaything of both father and mother.It was always a trying task to both teacher and scholar, for Enna wasvery wilful, and her teacher's patience by no means inexhaustible.
"There!" exclaimed Miss Day, shutting the book and giving it animpatient toss on to the desk; "go, for I might as well try to teachold Bruno. I presume he would learn about as fast."
And Enna walked away with a pout on her pretty face, muttering that shewould "tell mamma."
"Young ladies and gentlemen," said Miss Day, looking at her watch, "Ishall leave you to your studies for an hour; at the end of which time Ishall return to hear your recitations, when those who have attendedproperly to their duties will be permitted to ride out with me to visitthe fair."
"Oh! that will be jolly!" exclaimed Arthur, a bright-eyed,mischief-loving boy of ten.
"Hush!" said Miss Day sternly; "let me hear no more such exclamations;and remember that you will not go unless your lessons are thoroughlylearned. Louise and Lora," addressing two young girls of the respectiveages of twelve and fourteen, "that French exercise must be perfect, andyour English lessons as well. Elsie," to a little girl of eight,sitting alone at a desk near one of the windows, and bending over aslate with an appearance of great industry, "every figure of thatexample must be correct, your geography lesson recited perfectly, and apage in your copybook written without a blot."
"Yes, ma'am," said the child meekly, raising a pair of large soft eyesof the darkest hazel for an instant to her teacher's face, and thendropping them again upon her slate.
"And see that none of you leave the room until I return," continued thegoverness. "Walter, if you miss one word of that spelling, you willhave to stay at home and learn it over."
"Unless mamma interferes, as she will be pretty sure to do," mutteredArthur, as the door closed on Miss Day, and her retreating footstepswere heard passing down the hall.
For about ten minutes after her departure, all was quiet in theschool-room, each seemingly completely absorbed in study. But at theend of that time Arthur sprang up, and flinging his book across theroom, exclaimed, "There! I know my lesson; and if I didn't, I shouldn'tstudy another bit for old Day, or Night either."
"Do be quiet, Arthur," said his sister Louise; "I can't study in such aracket."
Arthur stole on tiptoe across the room, and coming up behind Elsie,tickled the back of her neck with a feather.
She started, saying in a pleading tone, "Please, Arthur, don't."
"It pleases me to do," he said, repeating the experiment.
Elsie changed her position, saying in the same gentle, persuasive tone,"O Arthur! _please_ let me alone, or I never shall be able to do thisexample."
"What! all this time on one example! you ought to be ashamed. Why, Icould have done it half a dozen times over."
"I have been over and over it," replied the little girl in a tone ofdespondency, "and still there are two figures that will not come right."
"How do you know they are not right, little puss?" shaking her curls ashe spoke.
"Oh! please, Arthur, don't pull my hair. I have the answer--that's theway I know."
"Well, then, why don't you just set the figures down. I would."
"Oh! no, indeed; that would not be honest."
"Pooh! nonsense! nobody would be the wiser, nor the poorer."
"No, but it would be just like telling a lie. But I can never get itright while you are bothering me so," said Elsie, laying her slateaside in despair. Then taking out her geography, she began studyingmost diligently. But Arthur continued his persecutions--tickling her,pulling her hair, twitching the book out of her hand, and talkingalmost incessantly, making remarks, and asking questions; till at lastElsie said, as if just ready to cry, "Indeed, Arthur, if you don't letme alone, I shall never be able to get my lessons."
"Go away then; take your book out on the veranda, and learn yourlessons there," said Louise. "I'll call you when Miss Day comes."
"Oh! no, Louise, I cannot do that, because it would be disobedience,"replied Elsie, taking out her writing materials.
Arthur stood over her criticising every letter she made, and finallyjogged her elbow in such a way as to cause her to drop all the ink inher pen upon the paper, making quite a large blot.
"Oh!" cried the little girl, bursting into tears, "now I shall lose myride, for Miss Day will not let me go; and I was so anxious to see allthose beautiful flowers."
Arthur, who was really not very vicious, felt some compunction when hesaw the mischief he had done. "Never mind, Elsie," said he. "I can fixit yet. Just let me tear out this page, and you can begin again on thenext, and I'll not bother you. I'll make these two figures come righttoo," he added, taking up her slate.
"Thank you, Arthur," said the little girl, smiling through her tears;"you are very kind, but it would not be honest to do either, and I hadrather stay at home than be deceitful."
"Very well, miss," said he, tossing his head, and walking away, "sinceyou won't let me help you, it is all your own fault if you have to stayat home."
"Elsie," exclaimed Louise, "I have no patience with you! suchridiculous scruples as you are always raising. I shall not pity you onebit, if you are obliged to stay at home."
Elsie made no reply, but, brushing away a tear, bent over her writing,taking great pains with every letter, though saying sadly to herselfall the time, "It's of no use, for that great ugly blot will spoil itall."
She finished her page, and, excepting the unfortunate blot, it alllooked very neat indeed, showing plainly that it had been written withgreat care. She then took up her slate and patiently went over and overevery figure of the troublesome example, trying to discover where hermistake had been. But much time had been lost through Arthur's teasing,and her mind was so disturbed by the accident to her writing that shetried in vain to fix it upon the business in hand; and before the twotroublesome figures had been made right, the hour was past and Miss Dayreturned.
"Oh!" thought Elsie, "if she will only hear the others first, I may beable to get this and the geography ready yet; and perhaps, if Arthurwill be generous enough to tell her about the blot, she may excuse mefor it."
But it was a vain hope. Miss Day had no sooner seated herself at herdesk, than she called, "Elsie, come here and say that lesson; and bringyour copybook and slate, that I may examine your work."
Elsie tremblingly obeyed.
The lesson, though a difficult one, was very tolerably recited; forElsie, knowing Arthur's propensity for teasing, had studied it in herown room before school hours. But Miss
Day handed back the book with afrown, saying, "I told you the recitation must be perfect, and it wasnot."
She was always more severe with Elsie than with any other of herpupils. The reason the reader will probably be able to divine ere long.
"There are two incorrect figures in this example," said she, layingdown the slate, after glancing over its contents. Then taking up thecopy-book, she exclaimed, "Careless, disobedient child! did I notcaution you to be careful not to blot your book! There will be no ridefor you this morning. You have failed in everything. Go to your seat.Make that example right, and do the next; learn your geography lessonover, and write another page in your copy-book; and, mind, if there isa blot on it, you will get no dinner."
Weeping and sobbing, Elsie took up her books and obeyed.
During this scene Arthur stood at his desk pretending to study, butglancing every now and then at Elsie, with a conscience evidently illat ease. She cast an imploring glance at him, as she returned to herseat; but he turned away his head, muttering, "It's all her own fault,for she wouldn't let me help her."
As he looked up again, he caught his sister Lora's eyes fixed on himwith an expression of scorn and contempt. He colored violently, anddropped his eyes upon his book.
"Miss Day," said Lora, indignantly, "I see Arthur does not mean tospeak, and as I cannot bear to see such injustice, I must tell you thatit is all his fault that Elsie has failed in her lessons; for she triedher very best, but he teased her incessantly, and also jogged her elbowand made her spill the ink on her book; and to her credit she was toohonorable to tear out the leaf from her copy-book, or to let him makeher example right; both which he very generously proposed doing aftercausing all the mischief."
"Is this so, Arthur?" asked Miss Day, angrily.
The boy hung his head, but made no reply.
"Very well, then," said Miss Day, "you too must stay at home."
"Surely," said Lora, in surprise, "you will not keep Elsie, since Ihave shown you that she was not to blame."
"Miss Lora," replied her teacher, haughtily, "I wish you to understandthat I am not to be dictated to by my pupils."
Lora bit her lip, but said nothing, and Miss Day went on hearing thelessons without further remark.
In the meantime the little Elsie sat at her desk, striving to conquerthe feelings of anger and indignation that were swelling in her breast;for Elsie, though she possessed much of "the ornament of a meek andquiet spirit," was not yet perfect, and often had a fierce contest withher naturally quick temper. Yet it was seldom, very seldom that word ortone or look betrayed the existence of such feelings; and it was acommon remark in the family that Elsie had no spirit.
The recitations were scarcely finished when the door opened and a ladyentered dressed for a ride.
"Not through yet, Miss Day?" she asked.
"Yes, madam, we are just done," replied the teacher, closing the Frenchgrammar and handing it to Louise.
"Well, I hope your pupils have all done their duty this morning, andare ready to accompany us to the fair," said Mrs. Dinsmore. "But whatis the matter with Elsie?"
"She has failed in all her exercises, and therefore has been told thatshe must remain at home," replied Miss Day with heightened color and ina tone of anger; "and as Miss Lora tells me that Master Arthur waspartly the cause, I have forbidden him also to accompany us."
"Excuse me, Miss Day, for correcting you," said Lora, a littleindignantly; "but I did not say _partly,_ for I am sure it was_entirely_ his fault."
"Hush, hush, Lora," said her mother, a little impatiently; "how can yoube sure of any such thing; Miss Day, I must beg of you to excuse Arthurthis once, for I have quite set my heart on taking him along. He isfond of mischief, I know, but he is only a child, and you must not betoo hard upon him."
"Very well, madam," replied the governess stiffly, "you have of coursethe best right to control your own children."
Mrs. Dinsmore turned to leave the room.
"Mamma," asked Lora, "is not Elsie to be allowed to go too?"
"Elsie is not my child, and I have nothing to say about it. Miss Day,who knows all the circumstances, is much better able than I to judgewhether or no she is deserving of punishment," replied Mrs. Dinsmore,sailing out of the room.
"You will let her go, Miss Day?" said Lora, inquiringly.
"Miss Lora," replied Miss Day, angrily, "I have already told you I wasnot to be dictated to. I have said Elsie must remain at home, and Ishall not break my word."
"Such injustice!" muttered Lora, turning away.
"Lora," said Louise, impatiently, "why need you concern yourself withElsie's affairs? for my part, I have no pity for her, so full as she isof nonsensical scruples."
Miss Day crossed the room to where Elsie was sitting leaning her headupon the desk, struggling hard to keep down the feelings of anger andindignation aroused by the unjust treatment she had received.
"Did I not order you to learn that lesson over?" said the governess,"and why are you sitting here idling?"
Elsie dared not speak lest her anger should show itself in words; somerely raised her head, and hastily brushing away her tears, opened thebook. But Miss Day, who was irritated by Mrs. Dinsmore's interference,and also by the consciousness that she was acting unjustly, seemeddetermined to vent her displeasure upon her innocent victim.
"Why do you not speak?" she exclaimed, seizing Elsie by the arm andshaking her violently. "Answer me this instant. Why have you beenidling all the morning?"
"I have _not_," replied the child hastily, stung to the quick by herunjust violence. "I have tried hard to do my duty, and you arepunishing me when I don't deserve it at all."
"How dare you? there! take that for your impertinence," said Miss Day,giving her a box on the ear.
Elsie was about to make a still more angry reply; but she restrainedherself, and turning to her book, tried to study, though the hot,blinding tears came so thick and fast that she could not see a letter.
"De carriage am waiting, ladies, an' missus in a hurry," said aservant, opening the door; and Miss Day hastily quitted the room,followed by Louise and Lora; and Elsie was left alone.
She laid down the geography, and opening her desk, took out a smallpocket Bible, which bore the marks of frequent use. She turned over theleaves as though seeking for some particular passage; at length shefound it, and wiping away the blinding tears, she read these words in alow, murmuring tone:
"For this is thankworthy, if a man for conscience toward God enduregrief, suffering wrongfully. For what glory is it if, when ye bebuffeted for your faults, ye shall take it patiently? but if when ye dowell, and suffer for it, ye take it patiently, this is acceptable withGod. For even hereunto were ye called; because Christ also suffered forus, leaving us an example that ye should follow His steps."
"Oh! I have not done it. I did not take it patiently. I am afraid I amnot following in His steps," she cried, bursting into an agony of tearsand sobs.
"My dear little girl, what is the matter?" asked a kind voice, and asoft hand was gently laid on her shoulder.
The child looked up hastily. "O Miss Allison!" she said, "is it you? Ithought I was quite alone."
"And so you were, my dear, until this moment" replied the lady, drawingup a chair, and sitting down close beside her. "I was on the veranda,and hearing sobs, came in to see if I could be of any assistance. Youlook very much distressed; will you not tell me the cause of yoursorrow?"
Elsie answered only by a fresh burst of tears.
"They have all gone to the fair and left you at home alone; perhaps tolearn a lesson you have failed in reciting?" said the lady, inquiringly.
"Yes, ma'am," said the child; "but that is not the worst;" and hertears fell faster, as she laid the little Bible on the desk, andpointed with her finger to the words she had been reading. "Oh!" shesobbed, "I--I did not do it; I did not bear it patiently. I was treatedunjustly, and punished when I was not to blame, and I grew angry. Oh!I'm afraid I shall never be like Jesus! never, never."
The child's distress seemed very great, and Miss Allison was extremelysurprised. She was a visitor who had been in the house only a few days,and, herself a devoted Christian, had been greatly pained by the utterdisregard of the family in which she was sojourning for the teachingsof God's word. Rose Allison was from the North, and Mr. Dinsmore, theproprietor of Roselands, was an old friend of her father, to whom hehad been paying a visit, and finding Rose in delicate health, he hadprevailed upon her parents to allow her to spend the winter months withhis family in the more congenial clime of their Southern home.
"My poor child," she said, passing her arm around the little one'swaist, "my poor little Elsie! that is your name, is it not?"
"Yes, ma'am; Elsie Dinsmore," replied the little girl.
"Well, Elsie, let me read you another verse from this blessed book.Here it is: 'The blood of Jesus Christ his Son, cleanseth us from _all_sin.' And here again: 'If any man sin, we have an advocate with theFather Jesus Christ the righteous.' Dear Elsie, 'if we confess oursins, He is faithful and just to forgive us our sins.'"
"Yes, ma'am," said the child; "I have asked Him to forgive me, and Iknow He has; but I am so sorry, oh! _so_ sorry that I have grieved anddispleased Him; for, O Miss Allison! I _do_ love Jesus, and want to belike Him always."
"Yes, dear child, we must grieve for our sins when we remember thatthey helped to slay the Lord. But I am very, very glad to learn thatyou love Jesus, and are striving to do His will. I love Him too, and wewill love one another; for you know He says, 'By this shall men knowthat ye are my disciples, if ye have love one to another,'" said MissAllison, stroking the little girl's hair, and kissing her tenderly.
"Will you love me? Oh! how glad I am," exclaimed the child joyfully; "Ihave nobody to love me but poor old mammy."
"And who is mammy?" asked the lady.
"My dear old nurse, who has always taken care of me. Have you not seenher, ma'am?"
"Perhaps I may. I have seen a number of nice old colored women abouthere since I came. But, Elsie, will you tell me who taught you aboutJesus, and how long you have loved Him?"
"Ever since I can remember," replied the little girl earnestly; "and itwas dear old mammy who first told me how He suffered and died on thecross for us." Her eyes filled with tears and her voice quivered withemotion. "She used to talk to me about it just as soon as I couldunderstand anything," she continued; "and then she would tell me thatmy own dear mamma loved Jesus, and had gone to be with Him in heaven;and how, when she was dying, she put me--a little, wee baby, I was thennot quite a week old--into her arms, and said, 'Mammy, take my dearlittle baby and love her, and take care of her just as you did of me;and O mammy! be sure that you teach her to love God.' Would you like tosee my mamma, Miss Allison?"
And as she spoke she drew from her bosom a miniature set in gold anddiamonds, which she wore suspended by a gold chain around her neck, andput it in Rose's hand.
It was the likeness of a young and blooming girl, not more than fifteenor sixteen years of age. She was very beautiful, with a sweet, gentle,winning countenance, the same soft hazel eyes and golden brown curlsthat the little Elsie possessed; the same regular features, purecomplexion, and sweet smile.
Miss Allison gazed at it a moment in silent admiration; then turningfrom it to the child with a puzzled expression, she said, "But, Elsie,I do not understand; are you not sister to Enna and the rest, and isnot Mrs. Dinsmore own mother to them all?"
"Yes, ma'am, to all of them, but not to me nor my papa. Their brotherHorace is my papa, and so they are all my aunts and uncles."
"Indeed," said the lady, musingly; "I thought you looked very unlikethe rest. And your papa is away, is he not, Elsie?"
"Yes, ma'am; he is in Europe. He has been away almost ever since I wasborn, and I have never seen him. Oh! how I do wish he would come home!how I long to see him! Do you think he would love me, Miss Allison? Doyou think he would take me on his knee and pet me, as grandpa doesEnna?"
"I should think he would, dear; I don't know how he could help lovinghis own dear little girl," said the lady, again kissing the little rosycheek. "But now," she added, rising, "I must go away and let you learnyour lesson."
Then taking up the little Bible, and turning over the leaves, sheasked, "Would you like to come to my room sometimes in the mornings andevenings, and read this book with me, Elsie?"
"Oh! yes, ma'am, dearly!" exclaimed the child, her eyes sparkling withpleasure.
"Come then this evening, if you like; and now goodbye for the present."And pressing another kiss on the child's cheek, she left her and wentback to her own room, where she found her friend Adelaide Dinsmore, ayoung lady near her own age, and the eldest daughter of the family.Adelaide was seated on a sofa, busily employed with some fancy work.
"You see I am making myself quite at home," she said, looking up asRose entered. "I cannot imagine where you have been all this time."
"Can you not? In the school-room, talking with little Elsie. Do youknow, Adelaide, I thought she was your sister; but she tells me not."
"No, she is Horace's child. I supposed you knew; but if you do not, Imay just as well tell you the whole story. Horace was a very wild boy,petted and spoiled, and always used to having his own way; and when hewas about seventeen--quite a forward youth he was too--he must needs goto New Orleans to spend some months with a schoolmate; and there hemet, and fell desperately in love with, a very beautiful girl a year ortwo younger than himself, an orphan and very wealthy. Fearing thatobjections would be made on the score of their youth, etc., etc., hepersuaded her to consent to a private marriage, and they had been manand wife for some months before either her friends or his suspected it.
"Well, when it came at last to papa's ears, he was very angry, both onaccount of their extreme youth, and because, as Elsie Grayson's fatherhad made all his money by trade, he did not consider her quite mybrother's equal; so he called Horace home and sent him North tocollege. Then he studied law, and since that he has been traveling inforeign lands. But to return to his wife; it seems that her guardianwas quite as much opposed to the match as papa; and the poor girl wasmade to believe that she should never see her husband again. All theirletters were intercepted, and finally she was told that he was dead;so, as Aunt Chloe says, 'she grew thin and pale, and weak andmelancholy,' and while the little Elsie was yet not quite a week old,she died. We never saw her; she died in her guardian's house, and therethe little Elsie stayed in charge of Aunt Chloe, who was an old servantin the family, and had nursed her mother before her, and of thehousekeeper, Mrs. Murray, a pious old Scotch woman, until about fouryears ago, when her guardian's death broke up the family, and then theycame to us. Horace never comes home, and does not seem to care for hischild, for he never mentions her in his letters, except when it isnecessary in the way of business."
"She is a dear little thing," said Rose. "I am sure he could not helploving her, if he could only see her."
"Oh! yes, she is well enough, and I often feel sorry for the lonelylittle thing, but the truth is, I believe we are a little jealous ofher; she is so extremely beautiful, and heiress to such an immensefortune. Mamma often frets, and says that one of these days she willquite eclipse her younger daughters."
"But then," said Rose, "she is almost as near; her own grand-daughter."
"No, she is not so very near," replied Adelaide, "for Horace is notmamma's son. He was seven or eight years old when she married papa, andI think she was never particularly fond of him."
"Ah! yes," thought Rose, "that explains it. Poor little Elsie! Nowonder you pine for your father's love, and grieve over the loss of themother you never knew!"
"She is an odd child," said Adelaide; "I don't understand her; she isso meek and patient she will fairly let you trample upon her. Itprovokes papa. He says she is no Dinsmore, or she would know how tostand up for her own rights; and yet she has a temper, I know, for oncein a great while it shows itself for an instant--only an instant,though, and at very long intervals--and then she
grieves over it fordays, as though she had committed some great crime; while the rest ofus think nothing of getting angry half a dozen times in a day. And thenshe is forever poring over that little Bible of hers; what she sees soattractive in it I'm sure I cannot tell, for I must say I find it thedullest of dull books."
"Do you," said Rose; "how strange! I had rather give up all other booksthan that one. 'Thy testimonies have I taken as a heritage forever, forthey are the rejoicing of my heart,' 'How sweet are thy words unto mytaste! Yea, sweeter than honey to my mouth.'"
"Do you _really_ love it so, Rose?" asked Adelaide, lifting her eyes toher friend's face with an expression of astonishment; "do tell me why?"
"For its exceeding great and precious promises Adelaide; for its holyteachings; for its offers of peace and pardon and eternal life. I am asinner, Adelaide, lost, ruined, helpless, hopeless, and the Biblebrings me the glad news of salvation offered as a free, unmerited gift;it tells me that Jesus died to save sinners--just such sinners as I. Ifind that I have a heart deceitful above all things and desperatelywicked, and the blessed Bible tells me how that heart can be renewed,and where I can obtain that holiness without which no man shall see theLord. I find myself utterly unable to keep God's holy law, and it tellsme of One who has kept it for me. I find that I deserve the wrath andcurse of a justly offended God, and it tells me of Him who was made acurse for me. I find that all my righteousnesses are as filthy rags,and it offers me the beautiful, spotless robe of Christ's perfectrighteousness. Yes, it tells me that God can be just, and the justifierof him who believes in Jesus."
Rose spoke these words with deep emotion, then suddenly clasping herhands and raising her eyes, she exclaimed, "'Thanks be unto God for Hisunspeakable gift!'"
For a moment there was silence. Then Adelaide spoke:
"Rose," said she, "you talk as if you were a great sinner; but I don'tbelieve it; it is only your humility that makes you think so. Why, whathave you ever done? Had you been a thief, a murderer, or guilty of anyother great crime, I could see the propriety of your using suchlanguage with regard to yourself; but for a refined, intelligent,amiable young lady, excuse me for saying it, dear Rose, but suchlanguage seems to me simply absurd."
"Man looketh upon the outward appearance, but the Lord pondereth theheart," said Rose, gently. "No, dear Adelaide, you are mistaken; for Ican truly say 'mine iniquities have gone over my head as a cloud, andmy transgressions as a thick cloud.' Every duty has been stained withsin, every motive impure, every thought unholy. From my earliestexistence, God has required the undivided love of my whole heart, soul,strength, and mind; and so far from yielding it, I live at enmity withHim, and rebellion against His government, until within the last twoyears. For seventeen years He has showered blessings upon me, giving melife, health, strength, friends, and all that was necessary forhappiness; and for fifteen of those years I returned Him nothing butingratitude and rebellion. For fifteen years I rejected His offers ofpardon and reconciliation, turned my back upon the Saviour of sinners,and resisted all the strivings of God's Holy Spirit, and will you saythat I am not a great sinner?" Her voice quivered, and her eyes werefull of tears.
"Dear Rose," said Adelaide, putting her arm around her friend andkissing her cheek affectionately, "don't think of these things;religion is too gloomy for one so young as you."
"Gloomy, dear Adelaide!" replied Rose, returning the embrace; "I neverknew what true happiness was until I found Jesus. My sins often make mesad, but religion, never.
"'Oft I walk beneath the cloud, Dark as midnight's gloomy shroud; But when fear is at the height, Jesus comes, and all is light.'"
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