Elsie Dinsmore

by Martha Finley

  CHAPTER TENTH

  "If thou turn away thy foot from the Sabbath, from doing thy pleasure on my holy day, and call the Sabbath a Delight, the Holy of the Lord, Honorable, and shalt honor him, not doing thine own ways, nor finding thine own pleasure, nor speaking thine own words." --_Isaiah_ Iviii. 13.

  "Whether it be right in the sight of God to hearken unto you, more than unto God, judge ye." --_Acts_ iv. 19.

  Quite a number of guests had dined at Roselands. They were nearly allgentlemen, and were now collected in the drawing-room, laughing,jesting, talking politics, and conversing with each other and theladies upon various worldly topics, apparently quite forgetful that itwas the Lord's day, which He has commanded to be kept holy in thoughtand word, as well as deed.

  "May I ask what you are in search of, Mr. Eversham?" inquired Adelaide,as she noticed one of the guests glance around the room with a ratherdisappointed air.

  "Yes, Miss Adelaide; I was looking for little Miss Elsie. Travilla hasgiven me so very glowing an account of her precocious musical talent,that I have conceived a great desire to hear her play and sing."

  "Do you hear that, Horace?" asked Adelaide, turning to her brother.

  "Yes, and I shall be most happy to gratify you, Eversham," replied theyoung father, with a proud smile.

  He crossed the room to summon a servant, but as he placed his hand uponthe bell-rope, Mrs. Dinsmore arrested his movement.

  "Stay, Horace," she said; "you had better not send for her."

  "May I be permitted to ask _why_, madam?" he inquired in a tone ofmingled surprise and annoyance.

  "Because she will not sing," answered the lady, coolly.

  "Pardon me, madam, but I think she will, if _I bid_ her to do it," hesaid with flashing eyes.

  "No, she will not," persisted Mrs. Dinsmore, in the same cold, quiettone; "she will tell you she is wiser than her father, and that itwould be a sin to obey him in this. Believe me, she will most assuredlydefy your authority; so you had better take my advice and let heralone--thus sparing yourself the mortification of exhibiting beforeyour guests your inability to govern your child."

  Mr. Dinsmore bit his lip with vexation.

  "Thank you," he said, haughtily, "but I prefer convincing you that thatinability lies wholly in your own imagination; and I am quite at a lossto understand upon what you found your opinion, as Elsie has never yetmade the very slightest resistance to my authority."

  He had given the bell-rope a vigorous pull while speaking, and aservant now appearing in answer to the summons, he sent him with amessage to Elsie, requiring her presence in the drawing-room.

  Then turning away from his step-mother, who looked after him with agleam of triumph in her eye, he joined the group of gentlemen alreadygathered about the piano, where Adelaide had just taken her seat andbegun a brilliant overture.

  Yet, outwardly calm and self-satisfied as his demeanor may have been,Horace Dinsmore was even now regretting the step he had just taken; forremembering Elsie's conscientious scruples regarding the observance ofthe Sabbath--which he had for the moment forgotten--he foresaw thatthere would be a struggle, probably a severe one; and though, havingalways found her docile and yielding, he felt no doubt of the finalresult, he would willingly have avoided the contest, could he have doneso without a sacrifice of pride; but, as he said to himself, with aslight sigh, he had now gone too far to retreat; and then he had allalong felt that this struggle must come _some_ time, and perhaps it wasas well now as at any other.

  Elsie was alone in her own room, spending the Sabbath afternoon in herusual manner, when the servant came to say that her papa wished to seeher in the drawing-room. The little girl was a good deal alarmed at thesummons, for the thought instantly flashed upon her, "He is going tobid me play and sing, or do something else which it is not right to doon the Sabbath day."

  But remembering that he never had done so, she hoped he might not now;yet ere she obeyed the call she knelt down for a moment, and prayedearnestly for strength to do right, however difficult it might be.

  "Come here, daughter," her father said as she entered the room. Hespoke in his usual pleasant, affectionate tone, yet Elsie started,trembled, and turned pale; for catching sight of the group at thepiano, and her Aunt Adelaide just vacating the music-stool, she at onceperceived what was in store for her.

  "Here, Elsie," said her father, selecting a song which she had learnedduring their absence, and sang remarkably well, "I wish you to singthis for my friends; they are anxious to hear it."

  "Will not to-morrow do, papa?" she asked in a low, tremulous tone.

  Mrs. Dinsmore, who had drawn near to listen, now looked at Horace witha meaning smile, which he affected not to see.

  "Certainly not, Elsie," he said; "we want it now. You know it quitewell enough without any more practice."

  "I did not want to wait for _that_ reason, papa," she replied in thesame low, trembling tones, "but you know this is the holy Sabbath day."

  "Well, my daughter, and what of that? _I_ consider this song perfectlyproper to be sung to-day, and that ought to satisfy you that you willnot be doing wrong to sing it; remember what I said to you some weeksago; and now sit down and sing it at once, without any more ado."

  "O papa! I _cannot_ sing it to-day; _please_ let me wait untilto-morrow."

  "Elsie," he said in his sternest tones, "sit down to the pianoinstantly, and do as I bid you, and let me hear no more of thisnonsense."

  She sat down, but raising her pleading eyes, brimful of tears to hisface, she repeated her refusal. "Dear papa, I _cannot_ sing it to-day.I _cannot_ break the Sabbath."

  "Elsie, you _must_ sing it," said he, placing the music before her. "Ihave told you that it will not be breaking the Sabbath, and that issufficient; you must let me judge for you in these matters."

  "Let her wait until to-morrow, Dinsmore; tomorrow will suit us quite aswell," urged several of the gentlemen, while Adelaide good-naturedlysaid, "Let me play it, Horace; I have no such scruples, and presume Ican do it nearly as well as Elsie."

  "No," he replied, "when I give my child a command, it is to be obeyed;I have _said_ she should play it, and play it she _must_; she is not tosuppose that she may set up her opinion of right and wrong againstmine."

  Elsie sat with her little hands folded in her lap, the tears streamingfrom her downcast eyes over her pale cheeks. She was trembling, butthough there was no stubbornness in her countenance, the expressionmeek and humble, she made no movement toward obeying her father's order.

  There was a moment of silent waiting; then he said in his severesttone, "Elsie, you shall sit there till you obey me, though it should beuntil to-morrow morning."

  "Yes, papa," she replied in a scarcely audible voice, and they allturned away and left her.

  "You see now that you had better have taken my advice, Horace,"remarked Mrs. Dinsmore, in a triumphant aside; "I knew very well how itwould end."

  "Excuse me," said he, "but it has _not_ ended; and ere it does, I thinkshe will learn that she has a stronger will than her own to deal with."

  Elsie's position was a most uncomfortable one; her seat high anduneasy, and seeming to grow more and more so as the weary momentspassed slowly away. No one came near her or seemed to notice her, yetshe could hear them conversing in other parts of the room, and knewthat they were sometimes looking at her, and, timid and bashful as shewas, it seemed hard to bear. Then, too, her little heart was very sadas she thought of her father's displeasure, and feared that he wouldwithdraw from her the affection which had been for the last few monthsthe very sunshine of her life. Besides all this, the excitement of herfeelings, and the close and sultry air--for it was a very warm day--hadbrought on a nervous headache. She leaned forward and rested her headagainst the instrument, feeling in momentary danger of falling from herseat.

  Thus two long hours had passed when Mr. Travilla came to her side, andsaid in a compassionate tone, "I am
really very sorry for you, mylittle friend; but I advise you to submit to your papa. I see you aregetting very weary sitting there, and I warn you not to hope to conquerhim. I have known him for years, and a more determined person I neversaw. Had you not better sing the song? it will not take five minutes,and then your trouble will be all over."

  Elsie raised her head, and answered gently, "Thank you for yoursympathy, Mr. Travilla, you are very kind; but I could not do it,because Jesus says, 'He that loveth father or mother more than me, isnot worthy of me;' and I cannot disobey Him, even to please my own dearpapa."

  "But, Miss Elsie, why do you think it would be disobeying Him? Is thereany verse in the Bible which says you must not sing songs on Sunday?"

  "Mr. Travilla, it says the Sabbath is to be kept holy unto the Lord;that we are not to think our own thoughts, nor speak our own words, nordo our own actions; but all the day must be spent in studying God'sword, or worshipping and praising Him; and there is no praise in thatsong; not one word about God or heaven."

  "That is very true, Elsie, but still it is such a _very little_ thing,that I cannot think there would be much harm in it, or that God wouldbe very angry with you for doing it."

  "O Mr. Travilla!" she said, looking up at him in great surprise,"surely you know that there is no such thing as a _little sin_; anddon't you remember about the man who picked up sticks on the Sabbathday?"

  "No; what was it?"

  "God commanded that he should be stoned to death, and it was done.Would you not have thought _that_ a very little thing, Mr. Travilla?"

  "Yes, I believe I should," said he, turning away with a very grave face.

  "Dinsmore," he said, going up to his friend; "I am sure that child isconscientious; had you not better give up to her in this instance?"

  "_Never_, Travilla," he answered, with stern decision. "This is thefirst time she has rebelled against my authority, and if I let herconquer now, she will think she is always to have her own way. No; costwhat it may, I _must_ subdue her; she will have to learn that my willis law."

  "Right, Horace," said the elder Mr. Dinsmore, approvingly, "let herunderstand from the first that you are to be master; it is always thebest plan."

  "Excuse me, Dinsmore," said Travilla; "but I must say that I think aparent has no right to coerce a child into doing violence to itsconscience."

  "Nonsense!" replied his friend, a little angrily. "Elsie is entirelytoo young to set up her opinion against mine; she must allow me tojudge for her in these matters for some years to come."

  Eversham, who had been casting uneasy glances at Elsie all theafternoon, now drawing his chair near to Adelaide, said to her in anundertone, "Miss Adelaide, I am deeply sorry for the mischief I haveunwittingly caused, and if you can tell me how to repair it you willlay me under lasting obligations."

  Adelaide shook her head. "There is no moving Horace when he has onceset his foot down," she said; "and as to Elsie, I doubt whether anypower on earth can make her do what she considers wrong."

  "Poor little thing!" said Eversham, sighing; "where in the world didshe get such odd notions?"

  "Partly from a pious Scotch woman, who had a good deal to do with herin her infancy, and partly from studying the Bible, I believe. She isalways at it."

  "Indeed!" and he relapsed into thoughtful silence.

  Another hour passed slowly away, and then the tea-bell rang.

  "Elsie," asked her father, coming to her side, "are you ready to obeyme now? if so, we will wait a moment to hear the song, and then you cango to your tea with us."

  "Dear papa, I cannot break the Sabbath," she replied, in a low, gentletone, without lifting her head.

  "Very well then, I cannot break my word; you must sit there until youwill submit; and until then you must fast. You are not only makingyourself miserable by your disobedience and obstinacy, Elsie, but aremortifying and grieving _me_ very much," he added in a subdued tone,that sent a sharp pang to the loving little heart, and caused some verybitter tears to fall, as he turned away and left her.

  The evening passed wearily away to the little girl; the drawing-roomwas but dimly lighted, for the company had all deserted it to wanderabout the grounds, or sit in the portico enjoying the moonlight and thepleasant evening breeze, and the air indoors seemed insupportably closeand sultry. At times Elsie could scarcely breathe, and she longedintensely to get out into the open air; every moment her seat grew moreuncomfortable and the pain in her head more severe: her thoughts beganto wander, she forgot where she was, everything became confused, and atlength she lost all consciousness.

  Several gentlemen, among whom were Mr. Horace Dinsmore and Mr.Travilla, were conversing together on the portico, when they weresuddenly startled by a sound as of something falling.

  Travilla, who was nearest the door, rushed into the drawing-room,followed by the others.

  "A light! quick, quick, a light!" he cried, raising Elsie's insensibleform in his arms; "the child has fainted."

  One of the others, instantly snatching a lamp from a distant table,brought it near, and the increased light showed Elsie's little face,ghastly as that of a corpse, while a stream of blood was flowing from awound in the temple, made by striking against some sharp corner of thefurniture as she fell.

  She was a pitiable sight indeed, with her fair face, her curls, and herwhite dress all dabbled in blood.

  "Dinsmore, you're a brute!" exclaimed Travilla indignantly, as heplaced her gently on a sofa.

  Horace made no reply, but, with a face almost as pale as her own, bentover his little daughter in speechless alarm, while one of the guests,who happened to be a physician, hastily dressed the wound, and thenapplied restoratives.

  It was some time ere consciousness returned, and the father trembledwith the agonizing fear that the gentle spirit had taken its flight.

  But at length the soft eyes unclosed, and gazing with a troubled lookinto his face, bent so anxiously over her, she asked, "Dear papa, areyou angry with me?"

  "No, darling," he replied in tones made tremulous with emotion, "not atall."

  "What was it?" she asked in a bewildered way; "what did I do? what hashappened?"

  "Never mind, daughter," he said, "you have been ill; but you are betternow, so don't think any more about it."

  "She had better be put to bed at once," said the physician.

  "There is blood on my dress," cried Elsie, in a startled tone; "wheredid it come from?"

  "You fell and hurt your head," replied her father, raising her gentlyin his arms; "but don't talk any more now."

  "Oh! I remember," she moaned, an expression of keen distress comingover her face; "papa--"

  "Hush! hush! not a word more; we will let the past go," he said,kissing her lips. "I shall carry you to your room now, and see you putto bed."

  He held her on his knee, her head resting on his shoulder, while Chloeprepared her for rest.

  "Are you hungry, daughter?" he asked.

  "No, papa; I only want to go to sleep."

  "There, Aunt Chloe, that will do," he said, as the old nurse tied onthe child's night-cap; and raising her again in his arms, he carriedher to the bed and was about to place her on it.

  "Oh papa! my prayers first, you know," she cried eagerly.

  "Never mind them to-night," said he, "you are not able."

  "Please let me, dear papa," she pleaded; "I cannot go to sleep without."

  Yielding to her entreaties, he placed her on her knees, and stoodbeside her, listening to her murmured petitions, in which he more thanonce heard his own name coupled with a request that he might be made tolove Jesus.

  When she had finished, he again raised her in his arms, kissed hertenderly several times, and then laid her carefully on the bed, saying,as he did so, "Why did you ask, Elsie, that I might love Jesus?"

  "Because, papa, I do so want you to love Him; it would make you sohappy; and besides, you cannot go to heaven without it; the Bible saysso."

  "Does it? and what makes you think I don't love Him?" />
  "Dear papa, please don't be angry," she pleaded, tearfully, "but youknow Jesus says, 'He that keepeth my commandments, he it is that lovethme.'"

  He stooped over her. "Good night, daughter," he said.

  "Dear, _dear_ papa," she cried, throwing her arm round his neck, anddrawing down his face close to hers, "I do love you so very, _very_much!"

  "Better than anybody else?" he asked

  "No, papa, I love Jesus best; you next."

  He kissed her again, and with a half sigh turned away and left theroom. He was not entirely pleased; not quite willing that she shouldlove even her Saviour better than himself.

  Elsie was very weary, and was soon asleep. She waked the next morningfeeling nearly as well as usual, and after she had had her bath andbeen dressed by Chloe's careful hands, the curls being arranged toconceal the plaster that covered the wound on her temple, there wasnothing in her appearance, except a slight paleness, to remind herfriends of the last night's accident.

  She was sitting reading her morning chapter when her father came in,and taking a seat by her side, lifted her to his knee, saying, as hecaressed her tenderly, "My little daughter is looking pretty well thismorning; how does she feel?"

  "Quite well, thank you, papa," she replied, looking up into his facewith a sweet, loving smile.

  He raised the curls to look at the wounded temple; then, as he droppedthem again, he said, with a shudder, "Elsie, do you know that you werevery near being killed last night?"

  "No, papa, was I?" she asked with an awe-struck countenance.

  "Yes, the doctor says if that wound had been made half an inch neareryour eye--I should have been childless."

  His voice trembled almost too much for utterance as he finished hissentence, and he strained her to his heart with a deep sigh ofthankfulness for her escape.

  Elsie was very quiet for some moments, and the little face was almostsad in its deep thoughtfulness.

  "What are you thinking of, darling?" he asked.

  She raised her eyes to his face and he saw that they were brimful oftears.

  "O papa!" she said, dropping her head on his breast while the brightdrops fell like rain down her cheeks, "would you have been so verysorry?"

  "Sorry, darling! do you not know that you are more precious to me thanall my wealth, all my friends and relatives put together? Yes, I wouldrather part with everything else than lose this one little girl," hesaid, kissing her again and again.

  "Dear, _dear_ papa! how glad I am that you love me so much!" shereplied; and then relapsed into silence.

  He watched her changing countenance for some time, then asked, "What isit, darling?"

  "I was just thinking," she said, "whether I was ready to go to heaven,and I believe I was; for I know that I love Jesus; and then I wasthinking how glad mamma would have been to see me; don't you think shewould, papa?"

  "I can't spare you to her yet," he replied with emotion, "and I thinkshe loves me too well to wish it."

  As Miss Day had not yet returned, Elsie's time was still pretty much ather own disposal, excepting when her papa gave her something to do; so,after breakfast, finding that he was engaged with some one in thelibrary, she took her Bible, and seeking out a shady retreat in thegarden, sat down to read.

  The Bible was ever the book of books to her, and this morning thesolemn, tender feelings naturally caused by the discovery of her recentnarrow escape from sudden death made it even more than usually touchingand beautiful in her eyes. She had been alone in the arbor for sometime, when, hearing a step at her side, she looked up, showing a faceall wet with tears.

  It was Mr. Travilla who stood beside her.

  "In tears, little Elsie! Pray, what may the book be that effects youso?" he asked, sitting down by her side and taking it from her hand."The Bible, I declare!" he exclaimed in surprise. "What can there be init that you find so affecting?"

  "O Mr. Travilla!" said the little girl, "does it not make your heartache to read how the Jews abused our dear, dear Saviour? and then tothink that it was all because of our sins," she sobbed.

  He looked half distressed, half puzzled; it seemed a new idea to him.

  "Really, my little Elsie," he said, "you are quite original in yourideas, I suppose I _ought_ to feel unhappy about these things, butindeed the truth is, I have never thought much about them."

  "Then you don't love Jesus," she answered, mournfully. "Ah! Mr.Travilla, how sorry I am."

  "Why, Elsie, what difference can it make to you whether I love Him ornot?"

  "Because, Mr. Travilla, the Bible says, 'If any man love not the LordJesus Christ, let him be anathema, maranatha,' accursed from God. Oh!sir, think how dreadful! You cannot be _saved_ unless you love Jesus,and believe on Him. 'Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ, and thou shaltbe saved.' That is what God says in his word."

  She spoke with deep solemnity, the tears trembling in her eyes. He wastouched, but for a while sat perfectly silent.

  Then he said, with an effort to speak lightly. "Ah, well, my littlefriend, I certainly intend to repent and believe before I die, butthere is time enough yet."

  "Mr. Travilla," she said, laying her hand on his arm and lookingearnestly into his face, "how do you know that there is time enoughyet? _don't_ put it off, I beg of you."

  She paused a moment; then asked, "Do you know, Mr. Travilla, how near Icame to being killed last night?"

  He nodded.

  "Well, suppose I had been killed, and had not loved Jesus; where wouldI be now?"

  He put his arm round her, and giving her a kiss, said, "I don't thinkyou would have been in any very bad place, Elsie; a sweet, amiablelittle girl, who has never harmed any one, would surely not fare verybadly in another world."

  She shook her head very gravely.

  "Ah! Mr. Travilla, you forget the anathema, maranatha; if I had notloved Jesus, and had my sins washed away in His blood, I could not havebeen saved."

  Just at this moment a servant came to tell Elsie that her papa wantedher in the drawing-room, and Mr. Travilla, taking her hand, led herinto the house.

  They found the company again grouped about the piano, listening toAdelaide's music.

  Elsie went directly to her father and stood by his side, putting herhand in his with a gesture of confiding affection.

  He smiled down at her, and kept fast hold of it until his sister hadrisen from the instrument, when putting Elsie in her place, he said,"Now, my daughter, let us have that song."

  "Yes, papa," she replied, beginning the prelude at once, "I will do myvery best."

  And so she did. The song was both well played and well sung, and herfather looked proud and happy as the gentlemen expressed their pleasureand asked for another and another.

  Thus the clouds which had so suddenly obscured little Elsie's sky,seemed to have vanished as speedily as they had arisen.

  Her father again treated her with all his wonted affection, and thereeven seemed to be a depth of tenderness in his love which it had notknown before, for he could not forget how nearly he had lost her.