CHAPTER TWELFTH
"She had waited for their coming, She had kiss'd them o'er and o'er-- And they were so fondly treasured For the words of love they bore, Words that whispered in the silence, She had listened till his tone Seemed to linger in the echo 'Darling, thou art all mine own!'" --MRS. J. C. NEAL.
"Pray, what weighty matter is troubling your young brain, birdie?"asked Adelaide, laughingly laying her hand on Elsie's shoulder."Judging from the exceeding gravity of your countenance, one mightimagine that the affairs of the nation had been committed to your care."
"O auntie! can't you help me? won't you?" answered the little girl,looking up coaxingly into the bright, cheerful face bent over her.
"Help you in what? reading with your book upside down, eh?" askedAdelaide, pointing with a quizzical look at the volume of fairy talesin her little niece's lap.
"Oh!" cried Elsie, coloring and laughing in her turn, "I was notreading, and did not know that my book was wrong side up. But, AuntAdelaide, you know Christmas is coming soon, and I want to give papasomething, and I am quite puzzled about it. I thought of slippers, buthe has a very handsome pair, and besides there would hardly be time towork them, as I have so many lessons; a purse won't do either, becauseI have given him one already, and I would like it to be something worthmore than either slippers or purse. But you are so much wiser than I,can't you help me think?"
"So _this_ is what has kept you so quiet and demure all day that I havescarcely once heard you laugh or sing; quite an unusual state of thingsof late," and Adelaide playfully pinched the round, rosy cheek. "Ahem!let me put on my thinking cap," assuming an air of comic gravity. "Ah!yes, I have it! your miniature, little one, of course; what couldplease him better?"
"Oh! yes," cried Elsie, clapping her hands, "that will do nicely; whydidn't I think of it? Thank you, auntie. But then," she added, hercountenance falling, "how can I get it taken without his knowledge? youknow the surprise is half the fun."
"Never mind, my dear, I'll find a way to manage that," repliedAdelaide, confidently; "so just run away with you now, and see how muchmoney you can scrape together to spend on it."
"It won't take long to count it," Elsie said with a merry laugh. "Buthere is papa just coming in at the door; I hope he won't suspect whatwe have been talking about," and she bounded away to meet him and claimthe kiss he never refused her now.
Once Adelaide would not have been surprised at Elsie's quietness.Patient and sweet tempered the little girl had always been, but moreespecially after her father's return from Europe--very quiet and timid,seeming to shrink from observation, with a constant dread of incurringreproof or punishment; but the last few happy months, during which herfather had continued to lavish upon her every proof of the tenderestaffection, had wrought a great change in her; her manner had lost itstimidity, she moved about the house with a light and joyous step, andit was no unusual thing to hear her merry, silvery laugh ring out, orher sweet voice carolling like some wild bird of the wood--the naturaloutgushings of her joy and thankfulness; for the little heart that hadso long been famishing for love, that had often grown so weary and sickin its hungering and thirsting for it, was now fully satisfied, andrevelled in its new-found happiness.
"I have got it all arranged nicely, Elsie," Adelaide said, coming intothe room with a very pleased face as the little girl was preparing forbed that evening. "Your papa is going away in a day or two to attend tosome business matters connected with your property, and will be absentat least two weeks; so, unless he should take it into his head to carryyou along, we can easily manage about the picture."
Elsie looked up with a countenance of blank dismay.
"Why," said Adelaide, laughing, "I thought you'd be delighted with mynews, and instead of that, you look as if I had read you yourdeath-warrant."
"O Aunt Adelaide! two whole weeks without seeing papa! just think howlong."
"Pooh! nonsense, child! it will be gone before you know it. But nowtell me, how much money have you?"
"I have saved my allowance for two months; that makes twenty dollars,you know, auntie, and I have a little change besides; do you think itwill be enough?"
"Hardly, I'm afraid; but I can lend you some, if necessary."
"Thank you, auntie," Elsie answered gratefully, "you are very kind; butI couldn't take it, because papa has told me expressly that I mustnever borrow money, nor run into debt in any way."
"Dear me!" exclaimed Adelaide, a little impatiently; "Horace certainlyis the most absurdly strict person I ever met with. But never mind, Ithink we can manage it somehow," she added, in a livelier tone, as shestooped to kiss her little niece good-night.
Elsie's gentle rap was heard very early at her papa's door the nextmorning.
He opened it immediately, and springing into his arms, she asked,almost tearfully, "Are you going away, papa?"
"Yes, darling," he said, caressing her fondly. "I must leave home for afew weeks; and though I at first thought of taking you with me, uponfurther consideration I have decided that it will be better to leaveyou here; yet, if you desire it very much, my pet, I will take youalong. Shall I?"
"You know I would always rather be with you than anywhere else, papa,"she answered, laying her head on his shoulder; "but you know best, andI am quite willing to do whatever you say."
"That is right, daughter; my little Elsie is a good, obedient child,"he said, pressing her closer to him.
"When are you going papa?" she asked, her voice trembling a little.
"To-morrow, directly after dinner, daughter."
"So soon," she sighed.
"The sooner I leave you the sooner I shall return, you know, darling,"he said, patting her cheek, and smiling kindly on her.
"Yes, papa; but two weeks seems such a long, long time."
He smiled. "At your age I suppose it does, but when you are as old as Iam, you will think it very short. But to make it pass more quickly, youmay write me a little letter every day, and I will send you one just asoften."
"Oh! thank you, papa; that will be so pleasant," she answered, with abrightening countenance. "I do so love to get letters, and I wouldrather have one from you than from anybody else."
"Ah? then I think you ought to be willing to spare me for two weeks. Ihave been thinking my little girl might perhaps be glad of a littleextra pocket-money for buying Christmas gifts," he said, taking out hispurse. "Would you?"
"Yes, papa; oh! _very_ much, indeed."
He laughed at her eager tone, and putting a fifty-dollar note into herhand, asked, "Will that be enough?"
Elsie's eyes opened wide with astonishment.
"I never before had half so much as this," she exclaimed. "May I spendit _all_, papa?"
"Provided you don't throw it away," he answered gravely; "but don'tforget that I require a strict account of all your expenditure."
"Must I tell you _every_ thing I buy?" she asked, her countenancefalling considerably.
"Yes, my child, you must; not until after Christmas, however, if youwould rather not."
"I will not mind it so much then," she answered, looking quiterelieved; "but indeed, papa, it is a great deal of trouble."
"Ah! my little girl must not be lazy," he said, shaking his headgravely.
This was Elsie's first parting from her father since they had learnedto know and love each other; and when the time came to say good-by, sheclung to him, and seemed so loath to let him go, that he quite repentedof his determination to leave her at home.
"O papa, papa! I cannot bear to have you go, and leave me behind," shesobbed. "I feel as if you were never coming back."
"Why, my own darling," he said, kissing her again and again, "why doyou talk so? I shall certainly be at home again in a fortnight; but ifI had thought you would feel so badly, I would have made arrangementsto take you with me. It is too late now, however, and you must let mego, dearest. Be a good girl while I am gone, and when I return I willbring you some h
andsome presents."
So saying, he embraced her once more, then putting her gently from him,sprang into the carriage and was driven rapidly away.
Elsie stood watching until it was out of sight, and then ran away toher own room to put her arms round her nurse's neck and hide her tearson her bosom.
"Dere, dere, darlin'! dat will do now. Massa Horace he be back 'forelong, and ole Chloe don' like for to see her chile 'stressin' herselfso," and the large, dusky hand was passed lovingly over the brightcurls, and tenderly wiped away the falling tears.
"But, O mammy! I'm afraid he will never come back. I'm afraid thesteamboat boiler will burst, or the cars will run off the track, or----"
"Hush, hush, darlin'! dat's wicked; you must jes' trust de Lord to takecare of Massa Horace; He's jes' as able to do it one place as intudder; an ef you an' your ole mammy keep prayin' for Massa, I'se_sure_ he'll come back safe, kase don't you remember what de good booksays, 'If any two of you agree----'"
"Oh! yes, dear mammy, thank you for remembering it," exclaimed thelittle girl, lifting her head and smiling through her tears. "I won'tcry any more now, but will just try to keep thinking how glad I will bewhen papa comes home again."
"A very sensible resolution, my dear," said Adelaide, putting her headin at the door; "so come, dry your eyes, and let mammy put on yourbonnet and cloak as fast as possible, for I have begged a holiday foryou, and am going to carry you off to the city to do some shopping, etcetera."
"Ah! I think I know what that et cetera means, auntie, don't I?"laughed Elsie, as she hastened to obey.
"Dear me! how very wise some people are," said her aunt, smiling andnodding good-naturedly. "But make haste, my dear, for the carriage isat the door."
When Elsie laid her head upon her pillow that night she acknowledged toherself, that in spite of her father's absence--and she had, at times,missed him sadly--the day had been a very short and pleasant one toher, owing to her Aunt Adelaide's thoughtful kindness in taking her outinto new scenes, and giving agreeable occupation to her thoughts.
She rose at her usual early hour the next morning, and though feelinglonely, comforted herself with the hope of receiving the promisedletter; and her face was full of eager expectation, as her grandfather,in his usual leisurely manner, opened the bag and distributed itscontents.
"Two letters for Elsie!" he said, in a tone of surprise, just as shewas beginning to despair of her turn coming at all. "Ah; one is fromHorace, I see; and the other from Miss Allison, no doubt."
Elsie could hardly restrain her eagerness while he held them in hishand, examining and commenting upon the address, postmark, etc.
But at length he tossed them to her, remarking, "There! if you are doneyour breakfast, you had better run away and read them."
"Oh! thank you, grandpa," she said, gladly availing herself of hispermission.
"Elsie is fortunate to-day," observed Lora looking after her. "I wonderwhich she will read first."
"Her father's, of course," replied Adelaide. "He is more to her thanall the rest of the world put together."
"A matter of small concern to the rest of the world, I opine," remarkedMrs. Dinsmore, dryly.
"Perhaps so, mamma," said Adelaide, quietly; "yet I think there are_some_ who prize Elsie's affection."
Yes, Adelaide was right. Miss Rose's letter was neglected and almostforgotten, while Elsie read and reread her papa's with the greatestdelight.
It gave an amusing account of the day's journey; but what constitutedits chief charm for the little girl was that it was filled withexpressions of the tenderest affection for her.
Then came the pleasant task of answering, which occupied almost all herspare time, for letter-writing was still, to her, a rather new anddifficult business, Miss Allison having hitherto been her onlycorrespondent. And this was a pleasure which was renewed every day, forher papa faithfully kept his promise, each morning bringing her aletter, until at length one came announcing the speedy return of thewriter.
Elsie was almost wild with delight.
"Aunt Adelaide," she cried, running to her to communicate the gladtidings, "papa says he will be here this very afternoon."
"Well, my dear, as we have already attended to all the business thatneeded to be kept secret from him, I am very glad to hear it,especially for _your_ sake," replied Adelaide, looking up for a momentfrom the book she was reading, and then returning to it again, whileher little niece danced out of the room, with her papa's letter stillin her hand, and a face beaming with happiness.
She met Mrs. Dinsmore in the hall.
"Why are you skipping about in that mad fashion, Elsie?" she asked,severely; "I believe you will never learn to move and act like a lady."
"I will try, madam, indeed," Elsie answered, subsiding into a slow andsteady gait which would not have disgraced a woman of any age; "but Iwas so glad that papa is coming home to-day, that I could not helpskipping."
"Indeed!" and with a scornful toss of the head, Mrs. Dinsmore sailedpast her and entered the drawing-room.
Elsie had once, on her first arrival at Roselands, addressed Mrs.Dinsmore, in the innocence of her heart, as "grandma," but that lady'shorrified look, and indignant repudiation of the ancient title, hadmade a deep impression on the little girl's memory, and effectuallyprevented any repetition of the offence.
As the hour drew near when her father might reasonably be expected,Elsie took her station at one of the drawing-room windows overlookingthe avenue, and the moment the carriage appeared in sight, she ran outand stood waiting for him on the steps of the portico.
Mr. Dinsmore put out his head as they drove up the avenue, and thefirst object that caught his eye was the fairy-like form of his littledaughter, in her blue merino dress, and the golden brown curls wavingin the wind. He sprang out and caught her in his arms the instant thecarriage stopped.
"My darling, darling child," he cried, kissing her over and over again,and pressing her fondly to his heart, "how glad I am to have you in myarms again!"
"Papa, papa, my own dear, dear papa!" she exclaimed, throwing her armsaround his neck, "I'm _so_ happy, now that you have come home safe andwell."
"Are you, darling? but I must not keep you out in this wind, for it isquite chilly."
He set her down, and leaving the servant to attend lo his baggage, ledher into the hall.
"Will you come into the drawing-room, papa?" she said; "there is abright, warm fire there."
"Is there not one in my dressing-room?" he asked.
"Yes, papa, a very good one."
"Then we will go there. I dare say the rest of the family are in nogreat hurry to see me, and I want my little girl to myself for half anhour," he said, leading the way up-stairs as he spoke.
They found, as Elsie had reported, a very bright fire in thedressing-room. A large easy chair was drawn up near it, and a handsomedressing-gown and slippers were placed ready for use; all the work ofElsie's loving little hands.
He saw it all at a glance, and with a pleased smile, stooped and kissedher again, saying, "My dear little daughter is very thoughtful for herpapa's comfort."
Then exchanging his warm out-door apparel and heavy boots for thedressing-gown and slippers, he seated himself in the chair and took heron his knee.
"Well, daughter," he said, passing his hand caressingly over her curls,"papa has brought you a present; will you have it now, or shall it bekept for Christmas?"
"Keep it for Christmas, papa," she answered gayly. "Christmas is almosthere, and besides, I don't want to look at anything but you to-night."
"Very well, look at me as much as you like," was his laughingrejoinder. "And now tell me, have you been a good girl in my absence?"
"As good as I ever am, I believe, papa. I tried very hard; but you canask Miss Day."
"No, I am entirely satisfied with your report, for I know my littledaughter is quite truthful."
Elsie colored with pleasure, then calling to mind the time when he hadfor a moment suspected her of falsehood,
she heaved a deep sigh,dropping her head upon his breast.
He seemed to understand her thoughts, for, pressing his lips to herforehead, he said gently and kindly, "I think I shall never again doubtmy little daughter's truth."
She looked up with a grateful smile.
"Miss Day has gone away to stay until after New Year's day, papa," shesaid, "and so our holidays have begun."
"Ah! I am very well satisfied," said he. "I think you have earned aholiday, and I hope you will enjoy it. But I don't know that I shalllet _you_ play _all_ the time," he added with a smile; "I have somenotion of giving you a lesson now and then, myself."
"Dear papa, how pleasant!" she exclaimed delightedly; "I do so love tosay lessons to you."
"Well, then, we will spend an hour together every morning. But are younot to have some company?"
"Oh! yes, papa, quite a house full," she said with a slight sigh. "ThePercys, and the Howards, and all the Carringtons, and some others too,I believe."
"Why do you sigh, daughter?" he asked; "do you not expect to enjoytheir company?"
"Yes, sir, I hope so," she answered, rather dubiously; "but when thereare so many, and they stay so long, they are apt to disagree, and that,you know, is not pleasant. I am sure I shall enjoy the hour with youbetter than anything else; it is so sweet to be quite alone with my owndarling papa," and the little arm stole softly round his neck again,and the rosy lips touched his cheek.
"Well, when are the little plagues coming?" he asked, returning hercaress.
"Some of them to-morrow, papa; no, Monday--to-morrow is Sabbath day."
"Shall I bring in de trunks now, massa?" asked Mr. Dinsmore's servant,putting his head in at the door.
"Yes, John, certainly."
"Why, you brought back a new one, papa, didn't you?" asked Elsie, asJohn carried in one she was sure she had never seen before, and inobedience to a motion of her father's hand, set it down quite near them.
"Yes, my dear, it is yours. There, John, unlock it," tossing him thekey. "And now, daughter, get down and see what you can find in it worthhaving."
Elsie needed no second bidding, but in an instant was on her kneesbeside the trunk, eager to examine its contents.
"Take the lid off the band-box first, and see what is there," said herfather.
"O papa, how _very_ pretty!" she cried, as she lifted out a beautifullittle velvet hat adorned with a couple of ostrich feathers.
"I am very glad it pleases you, my darling," he said, putting it on herhead, and gazing at her with proud delight in her rare beauty. "There!it fits exactly, and is very becoming."
Then taking it off, he returned it to the box, and bade her lookfurther.
"I am reserving the present for Christmas," he said, in answer to herinquiring look.
Elsie turned to the trunk again.
"Dear papa, how good you are to me!" she said, looking up at him almostwith tears of pleasure in her eyes, as she lifted out, one afteranother, a number of costly toys, which she examined with exclamationsof delight, and then several handsome dresses, some of the finest,softest merino, and others of thick rich silk, all ready made infashionable style, and doing credit to his taste and judgment; andlastly a beautiful velvet pelisse, trimmed with costly fur, just thething to wear with her pretty new hat.
He laughed and patted her cheek.
"We must have these dresses tried on," he said, "at least one of them;for as they were all cut by the same pattern--one of your old dresseswhich I took with me--I presume they will all fit alike. There, takethis one to mammy, and tell her to put it on you, and then come back tome."
"Oh! I wondered how you could get them the right size, papa," Elsieanswered, as she skipped gayly out of the room.
She was back again in a very few moments, arrayed in the pretty silk hehad selected.
"Ah! it seems to be a perfect fit," said he, turning her round andround, with a very gratified look.
"Mammy must dress you to-morrow in one of these new frocks, and yourpretty hat and pelisse."
Elsie looked troubled.
"Well, what is it?" he asked.
"I am afraid I shall be thinking of them in church, papa, if I wearthem then for the first time."
"Pooh! nonsense! what harm if you do? This squeamishness, Elsie, is theone thing about you that displeases me very much. But there! don't lookso distressed, my pet. I dare say you will get over it by-and-by, andbe all I wish; indeed I sometimes think you have improved a littlealready, in that respect."
Oh! what a pang these words sent to her heart! was it indeed true thatshe was losing her tenderness of conscience? that she was becoming lessafraid of displeasing and dishonoring her Saviour than in former days?The very thought was anguish.
Her head drooped upon her bosom, and the small white hands were claspedconvulsively together, while a bitter, repenting cry, a silent earnestprayer for pardon and help went up to Him whose ear is ever open to thecry of His children.
Her father looked at her in astonishment.
"What is it, darling?" he asked, drawing her tenderly toward him, andpushing back the curls from her face; "why do you look so pained? whatdid I say that could have hurt you so? I did not mean to be harsh andsevere, for it was a very trifling fault."
She hid her face on his shoulder and burst into an agony of tears.
"It was not that, papa, but--but----"
"But what, my darling? don't be afraid to tell me," he answered,soothingly.
"O papa! I--I am afraid I don't--love Jesus--as much as I did," shefaltered out between her sobs.
"Ah! _that_ is it, eh? Well, well, you needn't cry any more. _I_ thinkyou are a very good little girl, though rather a silly one, I amafraid, and quite too morbidly conscientious."
He took her on his knee as he spoke, wiped away her tears, and thenbegan talking in a lively strain of something else.
Elsie listened, and answered him cheerfully, but all the evening henoticed that whenever she was quiet, an unusual expression of sadnesswould steal over her face.
"What a strange child she is!" he said to himself, as he sat musingover the fire, after sending her to bed. "I cannot understand her; itis very odd how often I wound, when I intend to please her."
As for Elsie, she scarcely thought of her new finery, so troubled washer tender conscience, so pained her little heart to think that she hadbeen wandering from her dear Saviour.
But Elsie had learned that "if any man sin, we have an advocate withthe Father, Jesus Christ the righteous," and to Him she went with hersin and sorrow; she applied anew to the pardoning, peace-speaking bloodof Christ--that "blood of sprinkling that speaketh better things thanthat of Abel;" and thus the sting of conscience was taken away and herpeace restored, and she was soon resting quietly on her pillow, for,"so He giveth His beloved sleep."
Even her father's keen, searching glance, when she came to him in themorning, could discover no trace of sadness in her face; very quiet andsober it was, but entirely peaceful and happy, and so it remained allthrough the day. Her new clothes did not trouble her; she was hardlyconscious of wearing them, and quite able to give her usual solemn andfixed attention to the services of the sanctuary.
"Where are you going, daughter?" Mr. Dinsmore asked, as Elsie gentlywithdrew her hand from his on leaving the dining-room.
"To my room, papa," she replied.
"Come with me," he said; "I want you."
"What do you want me for, papa?" she asked, as he sat down and took heron his knee.
"What for? why to keep, to love, and to look at," he said laughing. "Ihave been away from my little girl so long, that now I want her closeby my side, or on my knee, all the time. Do you not like to be with me?"
"_Dearly_ well, my own darling papa," she answered, flinging her littlearms around his neck, and laying her head on his breast.
He fondled her, and chatted with her for some time, then, still keepingher on his knee, took up a book and began to read.
Elsie saw with pain that it was a no
vel and longed to beg him to put itaway, and spend the precious hours of the holy Sabbath in the study ofGod's word, or some of the lesser helps to Zion's pilgrims which thesaints of our own or other ages have prepared. But she knew that itwould be quite out of place for a little child like her to attempt tocounsel or reprove her father; and that, tenderly as he loved andcherished her, he would never for one moment allow her to forget theirrelative positions.
At length she ventured to ask softly, "Papa, may I go to my own roomnow?"
"What for?" he asked; "are you tired of my company?"
"No, sir, _oh! no;_ but I want--" she hesitated and hung her head foran instant, while the rich color mounted to cheek and brow; thenraising it again, she said fearlessly, "I always want to spend a littlewhile with my best Friend on Sabbath afternoon, papa."
He looked puzzled, and also somewhat displeased.
"I don't understand you, Elsie," he said; "you surely can have nobetter friend than your own father; and can it be _possible_ that youlove any one else better than you love me?"
Again the little arms were round his neck, and hugging him close andcloser, she whispered, "It was Jesus I meant, papa; you know He lovesme even better than you do, and I must love Him best of all; but thereis no one else that I love half so much as I love you, my own dear,dear precious father."
"Well, you may go; but only for a little while, mind," he answered,giving her a kiss, and setting her down. "Nay," he added hastily, "stayas long as you like; if you feel it a punishment to be kept here withme, I would rather do without you."
"Oh! no, no, papa," she said beseechingly, and with tears in her eyes;"I do so love to be with you. Please don't be angry; please let me comeback soon."
"No, darling, I am not angry," he answered, smoothing her hair andsmiling kindly on her; "come back just when you like, and the soonerthe better."
Elsie did not stay away very long; in less than an hour she returned,bringing her Bible and "Pilgrim's Progress" with her.
Her father welcomed her with a smile, and then turned to his novelagain, while she drew a stool to his side, and, sitting down, leanedher head against his knee, and read until the short winter day began toclose in, and Mr. Dinsmore, whose hand had been every now and then laidcaressingly upon her curls, said, "Put away your book now, daughter; itis growing too dark for you to read without straining your eyes."
"Please, papa, let me finish the paragraph first; may I?" she asked.
"No; you must always obey the instant I speak to you."
Elsie rose at once, and without another word laid her books upon thetable; then coming back, claimed her accustomed place upon his knee,with her head resting on his shoulder.
He put his arm around her, and they sat silently thus for some moments.At length Elsie asked, "Papa, did you ever read 'Pilgrim's Progress!'"
"Yes; a good while ago, when I was quite a boy."
"And you did not like it, papa?"
"Yes, very much, though I have nearly forgotten the story now. Do _you_like it?"
"Very much, indeed, papa; I think it comes next to the Bible."
"Next to the Bible, eh? well, I believe you are the only little girl ofmy acquaintance who thinks _that_ the most beautiful and interestingbook in the world. But, let me see, what is this 'Pilgrim's Progress'about? some foolish story of a man with a great load on his back; is itnot?"
"Foolish! papa; oh! I am sure you don't mean it; you couldn't think itfoolish. Ah! I know by your smile that you are only saying it to teaseme. It is a beautiful story, papa, about Christian: how he lived in theCity of Destruction, and had a great burden on his back, which he triedin every way to get rid of, but all in vain, until he came to theCross; but then it seemed suddenly to loosen of itself, and droppedfrom his back, and rolled away, and fell into the sepulchre, where itcould not be seen any more."
"Well, and is not _that_ a foolish story? can you see any sense ormeaning in it?" he asked, with a slight smile, and a keen glance intothe eager little face upturned to his.
"Ah! papa, I know what it means," she answered, in a half-sorrowfultone. "Christian, with the load on his back, is a person who has beenconvinced of sin by God's Holy Spirit, and feels his sins a heavyburden--too heavy for him to bear; and then he tries to get rid of themby leaving off his wicked ways, and by doing good deeds; but he soonfinds he can't get rid of his load that way, for it only grows heavierand heavier, until at last he gives up trying to save himself, and justgoes to the cross of Jesus Christ; and the moment he looks to Jesus andtrusts in Him, his load of sin is all gone."
Mr. Dinsmore was surprised; as indeed he had often been at Elsie'sknowledge of spiritual things.
"Who told you all that?" he asked.
"I read it in the Bible, papa; and besides, I know, because I have feltit."
He did not speak again for some moments; and then he said very gravely,"I am afraid you read too many of those dull books. I don't want you toread things that fill you with sad and gloomy thoughts, and make youunhappy. I want my little girl to be merry and happy as the day islong."
"Please don't forbid me to read them, papa," she pleaded with a look ofapprehension, "for indeed they don't make me unhappy, and I love themso dearly."
"You need not be alarmed. I shall not do so unless I see that they doaffect your spirits," he answered in a reassuring tone, and she thankedhim with her own bright, sweet smile.
She was silent for a moment, then asked suddenly, "Papa, may I say someverses to you?"
"Some time," he said, "but not now, for there is the tea-bell;" andtaking her hand, he led her down to the dining-room.
They went to the drawing-room after tea, but did not stay long. Therewere no visitors, and it was very dull and quiet there, no one seeminginclined for conversation. Old Mr. Dinsmore sat nodding in his chair,Louise was drumming on the piano, and the rest were reading or sittinglistlessly, saying nothing, and Elsie and her papa soon slipped away totheir old seat by his dressing-room fire.
"Sing something for me, my pet, some of those little hymns I often hearyou singing to yourself," he said, as he took her on his knee; andElsie gladly obeyed.
Some of the pieces she sang alone, but in others which were familiar tohim, her father joined his deep bass notes to her sweet treble, atwhich she was greatly delighted. Then they read several chapters of theBible together, and thus the evening passed so quickly and pleasantlythat she was very much surprised when her papa, taking out his watch,told her it was her bed-time.
"O papa! it has been such a nice, _nice_ evening!" she said, as shebade him good-night; "so like the dear old times I used to have withMiss Rose, only--"
She paused and colored deeply.
"Only what, darling?" he asked, drawing her caressingly to him.
"Only, papa, if you would pray with me, like she did," she whispered,winding her arms about his neck, and hiding her face on his shoulder.
"That I cannot do, my pet, I have never learned how; and so I fear youwill have to do all the praying for yourself and me too," he said, witha vain effort to speak lightly, for both heart and conscience weretouched.
The only reply was a tightening of the clasp of the little arms abouthis neck, and a half-suppressed sob; then two trembling lips touchedhis, a warm tear fell on his cheek, and she turned away and ran quicklyfrom the room.
Oh! how earnest and importunate were Elsie's pleadings at a throne ofgrace that night, that her "dear, _dear_ papa might soon be taught tolove Jesus, and how to pray to Him." Tears fell fast while she prayed,but she rose from her knees feeling a joyful assurance that herpetitions had been heard, and would be granted in God's own good time.
She had hardly laid her head upon her pillow, when her father came in,and saying, "I have come to sit beside my little girl till she fallsasleep," placed himself in a chair close by her side, taking her handin his and holding it, as she loved so to have him do.
"I am _so_ glad you have come, papa," she said, her whole face lightingup with pleased surprise.
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bsp; "Are you?" he answered with a smile. "I'm afraid I am spoiling you; butI can't help it to-night. I think you forget your wish to repeat someverses to me?"
"Oh! yes, papa!" she said, "but may I say them now?"
He nodded assent, and she went on. "They are some Miss Rose sent me inone of her letters. She cut them out of a newspaper, she said, and sentthem to me because she liked them so much; and I too think they arevery sweet. The piece is headed:
"'THE PILGRIM'S WANTS.'
"'I want a sweet sense of Thy pardoning love, That my manifold sins are forgiven; That Christ, as my Advocate, pleadeth above, That my name is recorded in heaven.
"'I want every moment to feel That thy Spirit resides in my heart-- That his power is present to cleanse and to heal, And newness of life to impart.
"'I want--oh! I want to attain Some likeness, my Saviour, to thee! That longed for resemblance once more to regain, Thy comeliness put upon me.
"'I want to be marked for thine own-- Thy seal on my forehead to wear; To receive that new name on the mystic white stone Which none but thyself can declare.
"'I want so in thee to abide As to bring forth some fruit to thy praise; The branch which thou prunest, though feeble and dried, May languish, but never decays.
"'I want thine own hand to unbind Each tie to terrestrial things, Too tenderly cherished, too closely entwined, Where my heart so tenaciously clings.
"'I want, by my aspect serene, My actions and words, to declare That my treasure is placed in a country unseen, That my heart's best affections are there.
"'I want as a trav'ller to haste Straight onward, nor pause on my way; Nor forethought in anxious contrivance to waste On the tent only pitched for a day.
"'I want--and this sums up my prayer-- To glorify thee till I die; Then calmly to yield up my soul to thy care, And breathe out in faith my last sigh.'"
[Footnote: These beautiful words are not mine, nor do I know either thename of the author or where they were originally published.]
He was silent for a moment after she had repeated the last verse, thenlaying his hand softly on her head, and looking searchingly into hereyes, he asked, "And does my little one really wish all that thosewords express?"
"Yes, papa, for myself and for you too," she answered. "O papa! I dowant to be all that Jesus would have me! just like Him; so like Himthat everybody who knows me will see the likeness and know that Ibelong to Him."
"Nay, you belong to me," he said, leaning over her and patting hercheek. "Hush! not a syllable from your lips. I will have no gainsayingof my words," he added, with a mixture of authority and playfulness, asshe seemed about to reply. "Now shut your eyes and go to sleep; I willhave no more talking to-night."
She obeyed at once; the white lids gently closed over the sweet eyes,the long, dark lashes rested quietly on the fair, round cheek, and soonher soft regular breathing told that she had passed into the land ofdreams.
Her father sat, still holding the little hand, and still gazingtenderly upon the sweet young face, till, something in its expressionreminding him of words she had just repeated,
"I want to be marked for thine own-- Thy seal on my forehead to wear,"
he laid it gently down, rose, and bent over her with a troubled look.
"Ah, my darling, _that_ prayer is granted already!" he murmured; "for,ah me! you seem almost too good and pure for earth. But oh, God forbidthat you should be taken from me to that place where I can see thatyour heart is even now. How desolate should I be!" and he turned awaywith a shiver and a heavy sigh, and hastily quitted the room.
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