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NYPL RESEARCH LIBRARIES
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III
A LIST OF THE ELSIE BOOKS.
Arranged in the order of their
publication.
ELSIE DINSMORE.
ELSIE'S H OLID A YS AT ROSELANDS.
ELSIE'S GIRLHOOD.
ELSIE'S WOMANHOOD.
ELSIE'S MOTHERHOOD.
ELSIE'S CHILDREN.
ELSIE'S WIDOWHOOD, v^
GRANDMOTHER ELSIE.
ELSIE'S NEW RELATIONS.
ELSIE A T NAN TUCKET. )
THE TWO ELSIES.
ELSIE'S KITH AND KIN.
ELSIE'S FRIENDS A T WOODBURN.
CHRISTMAS WITH GRANDMA ELSIE.
ELSIE AND THE RAYMONDS.
ELSIE YACHTING WITH THE RAYMONDS.
ELSIE'S VA CA TION.
ELSIE A T VIAMEDE.
ELSIE A T ION.
ELSIE A T THE WORLD'S FAIR. ,
ELSIE'S JOURNEY.
ELSIE DINSMORE.
BY
MARTHA FARQUHARSON,
AUTHOR OF "ANNANDALE," "ALLAN'S FAULT," " BROOKSIDE FARMHOUSE,*
ETC., ETC.
NEW EDITION, REVISED.
*' Hope's precious pearl, in sorrow's cup,
Unmelted at the bottom lay,
To shine again, when all drunk up,
The bitterness should pass away."
MOORE'S LOVES OF THE ANGELS.
NEW YORK :
DODD, MEAD & COMPANY,
PUBLISHERS.
THE >7!
578743B
ASTOK, Lf*X AND
TILD3N rOWBAlMRW
* 1951 L
Entered according to Act of Congress, In the year 1868, by
M. W. DODD,
In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States for the
Southern District of New York.
Copyright, 1893, by
DODD, MEAD & COMPANY.
PUBLISHERS' NOTE.
TWENTY-FIVE years ago the manuscript of
" Elsie Dinsmore" was submitted to the predeces-
sor of its present publishers and accepted by him.
It was soon evident that the author had made a
place for herself in the affections of her young
readers, and the demand for new Elsie Books has
continued from that time to this. In the mean-
while the original volume, "Elsie Dinsmore," has
remained the favorite. A large new edition has
been called for at least once every year, and often
twice.
Repeated use has worn the type and a new
set of plates was called for. It has been thought
that to make the first impression from them for
this new edition, would fittingly celebrate the
twenty-fifth anniversary of the birth of this favor-
ite book.
ELSIE DINSMORE.
u 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. 11
MRS. WELBT.
THE school-room at Roselands was a very pleas-
ant apartment ; the ceiling, it is true, was somewhat
lower than in the more modern portion of the
building, for the wing in which it was situated dated
back to the old-fashioned days prior to the Revo-
lution, while the larger part of the mansion had not
stood more than twenty or thirty years ; but the effect
w r as relieved bv windows reachino- from floor to ceil-
/ O
ing, and opening on a veranda which overlooked a
lovely flower-garden, beyond which were fields and
woods and hills. The view from the veranda was
very beautiful, and the room itself looked most in-
viting, with its neat matting, its windows draped
with snow-white muslin, its comfortable chairs, and
pretty rosewood desks.
Within this pleasant apartment sat Miss Day with
8 ELSIE DIN8MORE.
her pupils, six in number. She was giving a lesson
to Enna, the youngest, the spoiled darling of the
family, the pet and plaything of both father and
mother. It was always a trying task to both teacher
and schofar, for Enna was very wilful, and her teach-
er's patience by no means inexhaustible.
*' There !" exclaimed Miss Day, shutting the book
and giving it an impatient toss on to the desk ; ' go,
for I might as well try to teach old Bruno. I pre-
sume he would learn about as fast."
And Enna walked away with a pout on her pretty
face, muttering that she would " tell mamma."
O
"Young ladies and gentlemen," said Miss Day,
looking at her watch, " I shall leave you to your
studies for an hour ; at the end of which time I shall
return to hear your recitations, when those who have
attended properly to their duties will be permitted to
ride out with me to visit the 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 thoroughly learned.
Louise and Lora," addressing two young girls of the
respective ages of twelve and fourteen, * i that French
exercise must be perfect, and your English lessons as
well. Elsie, " to a little girl of eight, sitting alone at a
desk near one of the windows, and bending over a
slate with an appearance of great industry, ' ' every
figure of that example must be correct, your geogra-
ELSIE DINSMORE. 9
phy lesson recited perfectly, and a page in your copy-
book written without a blot. '
tl Yes, ma'am," said the child meekly, raising a
pair of large soft eyes of the darkest hazel for an in-
stant to her teacher's face, and then dropping them
again upon her slate.
4 ' And see that none of you leave the room until I
return," continued the governess. " Walter, if you
miss one word of that spelling, you will have to stay
at home and learn it over. '
" Unless mamma interferes, as she will be pretty
sure to do," muttered Arthur, as the door closed on
Miss Day, and her retreating footsteps were heard
passing down the hall.
For about ten minutes after her departure, all was
quiet in the school-room, each seemingly completely
absorbed in study. But at the end of that time
Arthur sprang up, and, flinging his book across the
room, exclaimed, " There ! I know my lesson ; and
if I didn't, I shouldn't study another bit for old Day,
or Night either.' 1
" Do be quiet, Arthur," said his sister Louise ; "I
can't study in such a racket.'
Arthur stole on tiptoe across the room, and com-
ing up behind Elsie, tickled the back of her neck
with a feather.
She started, saying in a pleading tone," Please,
Arthur, don't."
u It pleases me to do," he said, repeating the
experiment.
io ELSIE DIN SHORE.
Elsie changed her position, saying in the same
gentle, persuasive tone, " Arthur ! please let me
alone, or I never shall be able to do this example.'
" What ! all this time on one example ! you ought
to be ashamed. Why, I could have done it half a
dozen times over."
" I have been over and over it," replied the little
girl in a tone of despondency, " and still there are
two figures that will not come right."
" How do you know they are not right, little
puss ?" shaking her curls as he spoke.
" Oh ! please, Arthur, don't pull my hair. I
have the answer that's the way 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 it right while you are bothering me
so," said Elsie, laying her slate aside in despair.
Then taking out her geography, she began studying
most diligently. But Arthur continued his persecu-
tions tickling her, pulling her hair, twitching the
book out of her hand, and talking almost incessantly,
making remarks, and asking questions ; till at last
Elsie said, as if just ready to cry, ' ' Indeed, Arthur,
if you don't let me alone, I shall never be able to
get my lessons."
" Go away then ; take your book out on the ve-
ELSIE DINSMORE. II
randa, and learn your lessons 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.
O
Arthur stood over her criticising every letter she
made, and finally jogged her elbow in such a way as
to cause her to drop all the ink in her pen upon the
paper, making quite a large blot.
"'Oh !" cried the little girl, bursting into tears,
" now I shall lose my ride, for Miss Day will not let
me go ; and I was so anxious to see all those beauti-
ful flowers.'
Arthur, who was really not very vicious, felt some
compunction when he saw the mischief he had done.
" Never mind, Elsie," said he, "I can fix it yet.
Just let me tear out this page, and you can begin
again on the next, and I'll not bother you. I'll make
these two figures come right too," 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 had rather stay at
home than be deceitful."
" Very well, miss, v said he, tossing his head,
and walking away, " since you won't let me help
you, it is all your own fault if you have to stay at
home.'
" Elsie," exclaimed Louise, " I have no patience
with you ! such ridiculous scruples as you are always
12 ELSIE DINSMORE.
raising. I shall not pity you one bit, 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 herself all the time,
" It's of no use, for that great ugly blot will spoil it
all."
She finished her page, and, excepting the unfortu-
nate blot, it all looked very neat indeed, showing
plainly that it had been written with great care. She
then took up her slate and patiently went over and
over every figure of the troublesome example, trying
to discover where her mistake 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 she tried in vain to fix it upon the business in
hand ; and before the two troublesome figures had
been made right, the hour was past and Miss Day
returned.
" Oh !" thought Elsie, " if she will only hear the
others first, I may be able to get this and the geogra-
phy ready yet ; and perhaps, if Arthur will be gener-
ous enough to tell her about the blot, she may excuse
me for it.''
But it was a vain hope. Miss Day had no sooner
seated herself at her desk, than she called, " Elsie,
come here and say that lesson ; and bring your copy-
book and slate, that I may examine your work."
Elsie tremblingly obeyed.
The lesson, though a difficult one, was very tolera-
ELSIE D1NSMORE. 13
bly recited ; for Elsie, knowing Arthur's propensity
for teasing, had studied it in her own room before
school hours. But Miss Day handed back the book
V
with a frown, saying, " I told you the recitation must
be perfect, and it was not."
She was always more severe with Elsie than with
any other of her pupils. The reason the reader will
probably be able to divine ere long.
" There are two incorrect figures in this example, ' :
said she, laying down the slate, after glancing over its
contents. Then taking up the copy-book, she ex-
claimed, ' ' Careless, disobedient child ! did I not cau-
tion you to be careful not to blot your book ? There
will be no ride for you this morning. You have
failed in everything. Go to your seat. Make that
example right, and do the next ; learn your geography
lesson over, and write another page in your copy-
book ; and mind, if there is a 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 pre-
tending to study, but glancing every now r and then at
Elsie, with a conscience evidently ill at ease. She
cast an imploring glance at him, as she returned to
her seat ; but he turned away his head, muttering,
" It's all her ow r n fault, for she wouldn't let me help
her."
As he looked up again, he caught his sister Lora's
eyes fixed on him with an expression of scorn and
14 ELSIE DINSMORE.
contempt. He colored violently, and dropped his
upon his book.
' * Miss Day," said Lora, indignantly, ' ' I see Arthur
does not mean to speak, and as I cannot bear to see
such injustice, I must tell you that it is all his fault
that Elsie has failed in her lessons ; for she tried her
very best, but he teased her incessantly, and also
jogged her elbow and made her spill the ink on her
book ; and to her credit she was too honorable to
tear out the leaf from her copy-book, or to let him
make her example right ; both which he very gener-
ously proposed doing after causing all the mischief. '
11 Is this so, Arthur ?" asked Miss Day, angrily.
The boy hung his head, but made no reply.
" Yery well, then," said Miss Day, " you too must
stay at home.'
11 Surely," said Lora, in surprise, " you will not
keep Elsie, since I have shown you that she was not
to blame.'
" Miss Lora," replied her teacher, haughtily, " I
wish you to understand that I am not to be dictated
to by my pupils.'
Lora bit her lip, but said nothing, and Miss Day
went on hearing the lessons without further remark.
O
In the mean time the little Elsie sat at her desk,,
striving to conquer the feelings of anger and indigna-
tion that were swelling in her breast ; for Elsie, though
she possessed much of ' ' the ornament of a meek and
quiet spirit,'' was not yet perfect, and often had a
fierce contest with her natural 1 }* quick temper. Yet
ELSIE D1NSMORE. 15
it was seldom, very seldom that word or tone or look
betrayed tlie existence of such feelings ; and it was
a common remark in the family that Elsie had no
spirit.
The recitations were scarcely finished when the
door opened and a lady entered dressed for a ride.
" Not through yet, Miss Day ?" she asked.
" Yes, madam, we are just done, ' : replied the
teacher, closing the French grammar and handing it
to Louise.
u Well, I hope your pupils have all done their duty
this morning, and are ready to accompany us to the
fair," said Mrs. Dinsmore. " But what is the mat-
ter with Elsie ?"
" She has failed in all her exercises, and therefore
has been told that she must remain at home," replied
Miss Day with heightened color and in a tone of
anger ; " and as Miss Lora tells me that Master Ar-
thur was partly the cause, I have forbidden him also
to accompany us."
" Excuse me, Miss Day, for correcting you," said
Lora, a little indignantly ; " but I did not say partly,
for I am sure it was entirely his fault.'
" Hush, hush, Lora," said her mother, a little im-
patiently ; ' ' how can you be sure of any such thing ;
Miss Day, I must beg of you to excuse Arthur this
once, for I have quite set my heart on taking him
along. He is fond of mischief, I know, but he is only
a child, and you must not be too hard upon him."
" Very well, madam," replied the governess stiffly,
1 6 ELSIE DINSMORE.
" you have of course the best right to control your
own children.'
Mrs. Dinsmore turned to leave the room.
* ' Mamma, ' ' asked Lora, * ' is not Elsie to be al-
lowed 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 judge whether or no
she is deserving of punishment," replied Mrs. Dins-
rnore, sailing out of the room.
" You will let her go, Miss Day ?" said Lora, in-
quiringly.
" Miss Lora," replied Miss Day, angrily, " I have
already told you I was not to be dictated to. I have
said Elsie must remain at home, and I shall not break
my word. '
" Such injustice !" muttered Lora, turning away.
" Lora," said Louise, impatiently, " why need you
concern yourself with Elsie's affairs ? for my part, I
have no pity for her, so full as she is of nonsensical
scruples."
Miss Day crossed the room to where Elsie was
sitting leaning her head upon the desk, struggling
hard to keep down the feelings of anger and indigna-
tion aroused by the unjust treatment she had re-
ceived.
" 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
ELSIE DINSMORE, 17
itself in words ; so she merely raised her head, and
hastily brushing away her tears, opened the book.
But Miss Day, who was irritated by Mrs. Dinsmore's
interference, and also by the consciousness that she
was acting unjustly, seemed determined to vent her
displeasure upon her innocent victim.
" Why do you not speak ?" she exclaimed, seizing
Elsie by the arm and shaking her violently. " An-
swer me this instant. "Why have you been idling
all the morning ?"
" I have not, " replied the child hastily, stung to
the quick by her unjust violence. " I have tried hard
to do my duty, and you are punishing me when I
don't deserve it at all.'
" How dare you ? there ! take that for your im-
pertinence," said Miss Day, giving her a box on the
ear.
Elsie was about to make a still more angry reply ;
but she restrained herself, 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 a servant, 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 small pocket Bible, which bore
the marks of frequent use. She turned over the
leaves as though seeking for some particular passage ;
at length she found it, and wiping away the blinding
1 8 ELSIE DIXSMOHA
tears, she read these words hi a Irw 5 r
tone :
" For this is thankworthy, if a man foi conscience
toward God endure grief, suffering wrongfully. For
what glory is it if, when ye be buffeted for your faults,
ye shall take it patiently ? but if when ye do well,
and suffer for it, ye take it patiently, this is acceptable
with God. For even hereunto were ye called ; be-
cause Christ also suffered for us, leaving us an ex-
ample that ye should follow His steps. '
" Oh ! I have not done it. I did not take it patient-
ly. I am afraid I am not following in His steps, ' ;
she cried, bursting into an agony of tears and sobs.
O O >
11 My dear little girl, what is the matter ?" asked a
kind voice, and a soft hand was gently laid on her
shoulder.
The child looked up hastily. "0 Miss Alli-
son !" she said, " is it you ? I thought I was quite
alone. ' J
" And so you were, my dear, until this moment/
replied the lady, drawing up a chair, and sitting down
close beside her. " I was on the veranda, and hear-
ing sobs, came in to see if I could be of any assist-
ance. You look very much distressed ; will you not
tell me the cause of your sorrow ?' :
Elsie answered only by a fresh burst of tears.
" They have all gone to the fair and left you at
home alone ; perhaps to learn a lesson you have
failed in reciting " said the lady, inquiringly.
Yes, ma'am," said the child ; " but that is not
i .
ELSIE DIXSMORE. 19
the worst ;" and her tears fell faster, as she laid the
little Bible on the desk, and pointed with her finger
to the words she had been reading. " Oh !" she
sobbed, " I I did not do it ; I did not bear it pa-
tiently. I was treated unjustly, and punished when I
was not to blame, and I grew angry. Oh ! I'm afraid
I shall never be like Jesus ! never, never.' 1
The child's distress seemed very great, and Miss
Allison was extremely surprised. 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 utter disregard of the family in which she
was sojourning for the teachings of God's word.
Rose Allison was from the North, and Mr. Dinsmore,
the proprietor of Roselands, was an old friend of her
father, to whom he had been paying a visit, and
finding Rose in delicate health, he had prevailed upon
her parents to allow her to spend the winter months
with his family in the more congenial clime of their
Southern home.
' ' My poor child, ' ' she said, passing her arm around
the little one's waist, " 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 vou another verse from
it
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
the Father, Jesus Christ the righteous.' Dear Elsie,
20 ELSIE DINSMORE.
4 if we confess our sins, He is faithful and just to for-
give us our sins.'
" Yes, ma'am," said the child ; " I have asked
Him to forgive me, and I know He has ; but I am so
sorry, oh ! so sorry that I have grieved and displeased
Him ; for, O Miss Allison ! I do love Jesus, and want
to be like Him always.'
' ' Yes, dear child, we must grieve for our sins when
we remember that they helped to slay the Lord. But
I am very, very glad to learn that you love Jesus,
and are striving to do His will. I love Him too, and
we will love one another ; for you know He says,
* By this shall men know that ye are my disciples, if
ye have love one to another,' ' said Miss Allison,
stroking the little girl's hair, and kissing her tenderly.
" Will you love me ? Oh ! how glad I am," ex-
claimed the child joyfully ; " I have 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 seen her, ma'am ?"
" Perhaps I may. I have seen a number of nice
old colored women about here since I came. But,
Elsie, will you tell me who taught you about Jesus,
and how long you have loved Him ?"
" Ever since I can remember," replied the little
girl earnestly ; " and it was dear old mammy who
first told me how He suffered and died on the cross
for us. " Her eyes filled with tears and her voice quiv-
ered with emotion. " She used to talk to me about
ELSIE DINSMORE. 21
it just as soon as I could understand anything," she
continued ; " and then she would tell me that my 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 then not quite a
week old into her arms, and said, ' Mammy, take
my dear little 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 to see
my mamma, Miss Allison ?"
And as she spoke she drew from her bosom a min-
iature set in gold and diamonds, which she wore sus-
pended by a gold chain around her neck, and put it
in Rose's hand.
It was the likeness of a young and blooming girl,
not more than fifteen or sixteen years of age. She was
very beautiful, with a sweet, gentle, winning coun-
tenance, the same soft hazel eyes and golden brown
curls that the little Elsie possessed ; the same regu-
lar features, pure complexion, and sweet smile.
Miss Allison gazed at it a moment in silent admi-
ration ; then turning from it to the child with a puz-
zled expression, she said, " But, Elsie, I do not under-
stand ; are you not sister to Enna and the rest,
and is not Mrs. Dinsmore own mother to them
all?"
" Yes, ma'am, to all of them, but not to me nor my
papa. Their brother Horace is my papa, and so
they are all my aunts and uncles."
" Indeed," said the lady, musingly ; "I thought
22 ELSIE D1NSMORE.
you looked very unlike the 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 was born, and I have never seen
him. Oh ! how I do wish he would come home 1
how I long to see him ! Do you think he would love
me, Miss Allison ? Do vou think he would take me
</
on his knee and pet me, as grandpa does Enna ?"
" I should think he would, dear ; I don't know how
he could help loving his own dear little girl, ' ' said the
lady, again kissing the little rosy cheek. " But
now/' she added, rising, " I must go away and let
you learn your lesson.'
Then taking up the little Bible, and turning over
the leaves, she asked, " AVould you like to come to
my room sometimes in the mornings and evenings,,
and read this book with me, Elsie ?"
" Oh ! yes, ma'am, dearly !" exclaimed the child,
her eyes sparkling with pleasure.
" Come then this evening, if you like ; and now
good-bye for the present. ' And pressing another
kiss on the child's cheek, she left her and went back
to her own room, where she found her friend Ade-
laide Dinsmore, a young lady near her own age, and
the eldest daughter of the family. Adelaide was seat-
ed on a sofa, busily employed with some fancy work.
' * You see I am making myself quite at home, " she
said, looking up as Rose entered. " I cannot imag-
ine where you have been all this time.'
" Can you not ? In the school-room, talking with
ELSIE DINS MO RE. 23
little Elsie. Do you know, 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, I may 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 he was about seventeen quite a forward
youth he was too he must needs go to New Orleans
to spend some months with a schoolmate ; and there
he met, and fell desperately in love with, a very beau-
tiful girl a year or two younger than himself, an or-
phan and very wealthy. Fearing that objections
would be made on the score of their youth, etc. , etc. ,
he persuaded her to consent to a private marriage, and
they had been man and 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 on account of their extreme youth,
and because, as Elsie Grayson's father had made all
J
his money by trade, he did not consider her quite my
brother's equal ; so he called Horace home and sent
him North to college. Then he studied law, and
.since that he has been travelling in foreign lands.
But to return to his wife ; it seems that her guardian
was quite as much opposed to the match as papa ; and
the poor girl was made to believe that she should
never see her husband again. All their letters were
intercepted, and finally she was told that he was dead ;
so, as Aunt Chloe says, ' she grew thin and pale, and
weak and melancholy, ' and while the little Elsie, was
24 ELSIE DIN SHORE.
\
yet not quite a week old, she died. \Ve never saw
her ; she died in her guardian's house, and there the
little Elsie stayed in charge of Aunt Chloe, who was
an old servant in the family, and had nursed her
mother before her, and of the housekeeper, Mrs. Mur-
ray, a pious old Scotch woman, until about four years
ago, when her guardian's death broke up the family,
and then they came to us. Horace never comes
home, and does not seem to care for his child, for he
never mentions her in his letters, except when it is
necessary in the way of business.'
" She is a dear little thing," said Rose. ' ' I am sure
he could not help loving her, if he could only see her."
" Oh ! yes, she is well enough, and I often feel sorry
for the lonely little thing, but the truth is, I believe
we are a little jealous of her ; she is so extremely
beautiful, and heiress to such an immense fortune.
Mamma often frets, and says that one of these days
she will quite 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 not mamma's son. He was seven or
eight years old when she married papa, and I think
she was never particularly fond of him. '
' ' Ah ! yes, ' ' thought Rose, * ' that explains it.
Poor little Elsie ! No wonder you pine for your
father's love, and grieve over the loss of the mother
you never knew."
" She is an odd child," said Adelaide ; "I don't
ELSIE DINSMORE. 25
understand her ; she is so meek and patient she will
fairly let you trample upon her. It provokes papa.
Pie says she is no Dinsmore, or she would know how
to stand up for her own rights ; and yet she has a
temper, I know, for once in a great while it shows it-
self for an instant only an instant though, and at
very long intervals and then she grieves over it for
days, as though she had committed some great crime ;
while the rest of us think nothing of getting angry
half a dozen times in a day. And then she is forev 7 er
poring over that little Bible of hers ; what she sees so
attractive in it I'm sure I cannot tell, for I must say
I find it the dullest of dull books.'
11 Do you ?' ! said Rose ; " how strange ! I had
rather give up alt other books than that one. ' Thy
testimonies have I taken as a heritage forever, for they
are the rejoicing of my heart.' ' How sweet are thy
words unto my taste ! Yea, sweeter than honey to
my mouth ! '
" Do you really love it so, Rose ?" asked Adelaide,
lifting her eyes to her friend's face with an expres-
sion of astonishment ; "do tell me why ?"
" For its exceeding great and precious promises,
Adelaide ; for its holy teachings ; for its offers of
peace and pardon and eternal life. I am a sinner,
Adelaide, lost, ruined, helpless, hopeless, and the
Bible brings 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. I find that I
have a heart deceitful above all things and desperately
26 ELSIE DINSMORE.
wicked, 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 the Lord. I find
myself utterly unable to keep God's holy law, and it
tells me of One who has kept it for me. I find that I
deserve the wrath and curse of a justly offended God,
and it tells me of Him who was made a curse for
me. I find that all my righteousnesses are as filthy
rags, and it offers me the beautiful, spotless robe of
Christ's perfect righteousness. Yes, it tells me that
God can be just, and the justifier of him who be-
lieves in Jesus. ' :
Rose spoke these words with deep emotion, then
suddenly clasping her hands and raising her eyes, she
exclaimed, " ' Thanks be unto God for His unspeak-
able 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't believe it ; it is only your humility
that makes you think so. "Why, what have you ever
done ? Had you been a thief, a murderer, or guilty
of any other great crime, I could see the propriety of
your using such language with regard to yourself ; but
for a refined, intelligent, amiable young lady, excuse
me for saying it, dear Rose, but such language seems
to me simply absurd.' 1
" ' Man looketh upon the outward appearance, but
the Lord pondereth the heart, ' ' said Rose, gently.
" Xo, dear Adelaide, you are mistaken ; for I can
ELSIE DIN SHORE. 27
truly say ' mine iniquities have gone over my head as
a cloud, and my transgressions as a thick cloud/
Every duty has been stained with sin, every motive
impure, every thought unholy. From my earliest ex-
istence, God has required the undivided love of niy
whole heart, soul, strength, and mind ; and so far from
yielding it, I live at enmity with Him, and rebellion
against His government, until within the last two
years. For seventeen years He has showered blessings
upon me, giving me life, health, strength, friends, and
all that was necessary for my happiness ; and for fif -
teen of those years 1 returned Him nothing but in-
gratitude and rebellion. For fifteen years I rejected
His offers of pardon and reconciliation, turned my
back upon the Saviour of sinners, and resisted all the
strivings of God's Holy Spirit, and will you say that
I am not a great sinner ?" Her voice quivered, and
her eyes were full of tears.
"Dear Rose," said Adelaide, putting her arm
around her friend and kissing her cheek affection-
ately, " don't think of these things ; religion is too
gloomy for one so young as you.'
" Gloomy, dear Adelaide !" replied Rose, return-
ing the embrace ; "I never knew what true happi-
ness was until I found Jesus. My sins often make
me sad, but religion, never.
" ' Oft I walk beneath the cloud,
Dark as midnight's gloomy shroud ;
But when fear is at the height,
Jesus conies, and all is light.' "
r Sktcmtr.
' Thy injuries would teach patience to blaspheme,
Yet still thou art a dove."
BEAUMONT'S Double Marriage,
" When forced to part from those we love,
Though sure to meet to-morrow ;
We yet a kind of anguish prove
And feel a touch of sorrow .
But oh ! what words can paint the fears
When from these friends we sever,
Perhaps to part for months for years
Perhaps to part forever."
ANON.
WHEN Miss Allison had gone, and Elsie found her-
self once more quite alone, she rose h*om her chair,
and kneeling down with the open Bible before her,
she poured out her story of sins and sorrows, in sim-
ple, child-like words, into the ear of the dear Saviour
whom she loved so well ; confessing that when she
had done well and suffered for it, she had not taken
it patiently, and earnestly pleading that she might be
made like unto the meek and lowly Jesus. Low sobs
burst from her burdened heart, and the tears of peni-
tence fell upon the pages of the holy book. But
when she rose from her knees, her load of sin and
sorrow was all gone, and her heart made light and
happy with a sweet sense of peace and pardon. Once
again, as often before, the little Elsie was made to ex-
ELSIE DIN SHORE. 29
perience the blessedness of i ' the man whose trans-
gression is forgiven, whose sin is covered.'
She now set to work diligently at her studies, and
ere the party returned was quite prepared to meet
Miss Day, having attended faithfully to all she had re-
quired of her. The lesson was recited without the
smallest mistake, every figure of the examples worked
out correctly, and the page of the copy-book neatly
and carefully written.
Miss Day had been in a very captious mood all
day, and seemed really provoked that Elsie had not
given her the smallest excuse for fault-finding. Hand-
ing the book back to her, she said, very coldly, " I
see you can do your duties well enough when you.
choose. ' :
Elsie felt keenly the injustice of the remark, and
longed to say that she had tried quite as earnestly in
the morning ; but she resolutely crushed down the
indignant feeling, and calling to mind the rash words
that had cost her so many repentant tears, she re-
plied meekly, " I am. sorry I did not succeed better
this morning, Miss Day, though I did really try ; and
I am still more sorry for the saucy answer I gave
you ; and I ask your pardon for it.''
" You ought to be sorry, " replied Miss Day, severe-
ly, " and I hope you are ; for it was a very imperti-
nent speech indeed, and deserving of a much more
severe punishment than you received. Now go, and
never let me hear anything of the kind from you
again.'
3 ELSIE DINSMORE.
Poor little Elsie's eyes filled with tears at these
ungracious words, accompanied by a still more un-
gracious manner ; but she turned away without a
word, and placing her books and slate carefully in
her desk, left the room.
Rose Allison was sitting alone in her room that
evening, thinking of her far-distant home, when hear-
ing a gentle rap at her door, she rose and opened it
to find Elsie standing there with her little Bible in
her hand.
" Come in, darling," she said, stooping to give the
little one a kiss ; "I am very glad to see you."
" I may stay with you for half an hour, Miss Alli-
son, if you like," said the child, seating herself on
the low ottoman pointed out by Rose, ' ' and then
mammy is coming to put me to bed."
" It will be a very pleasant half-hour to both of
us, I hope,'" replied Rose, opening her Bible.
They read a chapter together Rose now and then
pausing to make a few explanations and then kneel-
ing down, she offered up a prayer for the teachings
of the Spirit, and for God's blessing on themselves
and all their dear ones.
' Dear little Elsie," she said, folding the child in
her arms, when they had risen from their knees, ' ' how
I love you already, and how very glad I am to find
that there is one in this house beside myself who
(oves Jesus, and loves to study His word, and to call
upon His name."
Yes, dear Miss Allison ; and there is more than
ELSIE D INSHORE. 31
one, for mammy loves Him too, very dearly," replied
the little girl, earnestly.
11 Does she, darling ? then I must love her too,
for I cannot help loving all who love my Saviour.'
Then Rose sat down, and drawing the little girl to
a seat on her knee, they talked sweetly together of
the race they were running, and the prize they hoped
to obtain at the end of it ; of the battle they were
fighting, and the invisible foes with whom they were
called to struggle the armor that had been provided,
and of Him who had promised to be the Captain of
their salvation, and to bring them off more than con-
querors. They were pilgrims in the same straight
and narrow way, and it was very pleasant thus to
walk a little while together. ' ' Then they that feared
the Lord spake often one to another ; and the Lord
hearkened and heard it ; and a book of remembrance
was written before Him for them that feared the
Lord, and that thought upon His name. And they
shall be mine, saith the Lord of hosts, in that day
when I make up my jewels ; and I will spare them,
as a man spareth his own son that serveth him."
" That is mammy coming for me," said Elsie, as
a low knock was heard at the door.
" Come in," said Rose, and the door opened, and 3
very nice colored woman of middle age, looking beau-
tifully neat in her snow-white apron and turban,
entered with a low courtesy, asking, " Is my little
missus ready for bed now ?"
** Yes," saidElsie, jumping off Rose's lap ; " but
3 2 ELSIE DINSMOUE.
come here, mammy ; I want to introduce you to Miss
Allison."
" How do you do, Aunt Chloe ? 1 am very glad to
know you, since Elsie tells me you are a servant of
the same blessed Master whom I love and try to
serve," said Rose, putting her small white 'hand
cordially into Chloe's dusky one.
'Deed I hope I is, missus," replied Chloe, press-
ing it fervently in both of hers. " I'se only a poor
ole black sinner, but de good Lord Jesus, He loves
me jes de same as if I was white ; an' I love Him
an' all His chillen with all my heart."
" Yes, Aunt Chloe," said Rose, " He is our peace,
and hath made both one, and hath broken down the
middle wall of partition between us ; so that we are
no more strangers and foreigners, but fellow-citizens
with the saints and of the household of God ; and are
built upon the foundation of the apostles and prophets,
Jesus Christ himself being the chief corner-stone."
Yes, missus, dat's it for sure ; ole Chloe knows
dat's in de Bible ; an' if we be built on dat bressed
corner-stone, we's safe eberv one ; I'se heard it
*/
inany's de time, an' it fills dis ole heart with joy an'
peace in believing," she exclaimed, raising her tear-
ful eyes and clasping her hands. ' ' But good night,
missus ; I must put my chile to bed," she added,
taking Elsie's hand.
' Good night, Aunt Chloe ; come in again," said
Rose. ' And good night to you too, dear little
filsie," folding the little girl again in her arms.
ELSIE DIN SHORE. 33
" Ain't dat a bressed young lady, darlin' ?" ex-
claimed Chloe, earnestly, as she began the business
of preparing her young charge for bed.
" O mammy, I love her so much ! she's so good
and kind," replied the child, " and she loves Jesus,
and loves to talk about Him."
" She reminds me of your dear mamma, Miss Elsie,
but she's not so handsome," replied the nurse, with a
tear in her eye ; " ole Chloe links dere's nebber any
lady so beautiful as her dear young missus was.'
Elsie drew out the miniature and kissed it, mur-
muring, " Dear, darling mamma," then put it back in
her bosom again, for she always wore it day and
night. She was standing in her white night- dress,
the tiny white feet just peeping from under it, while
Chloe brushed back her curls and put on her night-
cap.
" Dere now, darlin', y oil's ready for bed," she
exclaimed, giving the child a hug and a kiss.
" No, mammy, not quite," replied the little girl,
and gliding away to the side of the bed, she knelt
down and offered up her evening prayer. Then com-
ing back to the toilet table, she opened her little
Bible, saying, " Now, mammy, I will read you a.
chapter while you are getting ready for bed."
The room was large and airy, and Aunt Chloe,
who was never willing to leave her nursling, but
watched over her night and day with the most de-
voted affection, slept in a cot bed in one corner.
" Tank you, my dear young missus, you's berry
34 ELSIE DINSMORE.
good," said she, beginning- the preparations for the
night by taking off her turban and replacing it by a
thick night- cap.
When the chapter was finished Elsie got into bed,
aying, " Now, mammy, you may put out the light as
oon as you please ; and be sure to call me early in the
morning, for I have a lesson to learn before breakfast."
11 That I will, darlin'," replied the old woman,
spreading the cover carefully over her. ' ' Good
night, my pet, your ole mammy hopes her chile will
have pleasant dreams. '
Rose Allison was an early riser, and as the break-
fast hour at Roselands was eight o'clock, she always
had an hour or two for reading before it was time to
join the family circle. She had asked Elsie to come
to her at half-past seven, and punctually at the hour
the little girl's gentle rap was heard at her door.
" Come in," said Rose, and Elsie entered, looking
as bright and fresh and rosy as the morning. She
had her little Bible under her arm, and a bouquet of
fresh flowers in her hand. u Good morning, dear
Miss Allison," she said, dropping a graceful courtesy
as she presented it. "I have come to read, and I
have just been out to gather these for you, because I
know you love flowers.'
' ' Thank you, darling, they are very lovely, ' ' said
Rose, accepting the gift and bestowing a caress upon
the giver. ; ' You are quite punctual, ' ' she added,
* ' and now we can have our half -hour together before
breakfast. ' '
ELSIE DINSMORE. 35
The time was spent profitably and pleasantly, and
passed so quickly that both were surprised when the
breakfast bell rang.
Miss Allison spent the whole fall and winter at
Roselands ; and it was very seldom during all that
time that she and Elsie failed to have their morning
and evening reading and prayer together. Rose was
often made to wonder at the depth of the little girl's
piety and the knowledge of divine things she pos-
sessed. But Elsie had had the best of teaching.
Chloe, though entirely uneducated, was a simple-
minded, earnest Christian, and with a heart full of
love to Jesus, had, as we have seen, early endeavored
to lead the little one to Him ; and Mrs. Murray the
housekeeper whom Adelaide had mentioned, and who
had assisted Chloe in the care of the child from the
time of her birth until a few months before Rose's
coming, when she had suddenly been summoned home
to Scotland had proved a very faithful friend. She
was an intelligent woman and devotedly pious, and
had carefully instructed this lonely little one, for whom
she felt almost a parent's affection, and her efforts to
bring her to a saving knowledge of Christ had been
signally owned and blessed of God ; and in answer to
her earnest prayers, the Holy Spirit had vouchsafed
His teachings, without which all human instruction
must ever be in vain. And young as Elsie was, she
had already a very lovely and well-developed Chris-
tian character. Though not a remarkably precocious
child in other respects, she seemed to have very clear
36 ELSIE DINSMORE.
and correct views on almost every subject connected
with her duty to God and her neighbor ; was very
truthful, both in word and deed, very strict in her
observance of the Sabbath though the rest of the
family were by no means particular in that respect
very diligent in her studies, respectful to superiors,
and kind to inferiors and equals ; and she was gentle,
sweet-tempered, patient, and forgiving to a remark-
able degree. Rose became strongly attached to her,
and the little girl fully returned her affection.
Elsie was very sensitive and affectionate, and felt
keenly the want of sympathy and love, for which, at
the time of Rose's coming, she had no one to look to
but poor old Chloe, who loved her with all her heart.
It is true, Adelaide sometimes treated her almost
affectionately, and Lora, who had a very strong sense
of justice, occasionally interfered and took her part
when she was very unjustly accused, but no one
seemed really to care for her, and she often felt sad
and lonely. Mr. Dinsmore, though her own grand-
father, treated her with entire neglect, seemed to have
not the slightest affection for her, and usually spoke
of her as " old Grayson's grandchild.' Mrs. Dins-
more really disliked her, because she looked upon her
as the child of a stepson for whom she had never felt
any affection, and also as the future rival of her own
children ; while the governess and the younger
members of the family, following the example of
their elders, treated her with neglect, and occasionally
even with abuse. Miss Day, knowing that she was
ELSIE DINSMORE. 37
in no danger of incurring the displeasure of her su-
periors by so doing, vented upon her all the spite she
dared not show to her other pupils ; and continually
she was made to give up her toys and pleasures to
Enna, and even sometimes to Arthur and Walter. It
often cost her a struggle, and had she possessed less
of the ornament of a meek and quiet spirit, her life
had been wretched indeed.
But in spite of all her trials and vexations, litilo
Elsie was the happiest person in the family ; for she
had in her heart that peace which the %vorld can nei-
ther give nor take away ; that joy which the Saviour
gives to His own, and no man taketh from them. Sho
constantly carried all her sorrows and troubles to Him,
and the coldness and neglect of others seemed but to
drive her nearer to that Heavenly Friend, until she
j
felt that while possessed of His love, she could not
be unhappy, though treated with scorn and abuse by
all the world.
" The good are better made by ill,
As odors crushed are sweeter still ;"
And even so it seemed to be with little Elsie ; her
trials seemed to have only the effect of purifying and
making more lovely her naturally amiable character.
Elsie talked much and thought more of her absent
O
and unknown father, and longed with an intensity of
desire for his return home. It was her dream, by day
.and by night, that he had come, that he had taken
her to his heart, calling her " his own darling child,
O O *
38 ELSIE DINSMORE.
his precious little Elsie ;" for such were the loving
epithets she often heard lavished upon Enna, and
which she longed to hear addressed to herself. But
from month to month, and year to year, that longed-
for return had been delayed until the little heart had
grown sick with hope deferred, and was often weary
with its almost hopeless waiting. But to return.
" Elsie," said Adelaide, as Miss Allison and the
little girl entered the breakfast-room on the morning
after Elsie's disappointment, "the fair is not over
yet, and Miss Allison and I are going to ride out
there this afternoon ; so, if you are a good girl in
school, you may go with us."
" Oh ! thank you, dear Aunt Adelaide," exclaimed
the little girl, clapping her hands with delight ;
" how kind you are ! and I shall be so glad."
Miss Day frowned, and looked as if she wanted to-
reprove her for her noisy demonstrations of delight,
but, standing somewhat in awe of Adelaide, said
nothing.
But Elsie suddenly relapsed into silence, for at that
moment Mrs. Dinsmore entered the room, and it was-
seldom that she could utter a word in her presence
without being reproved and told that ' ' children should
be seen and not heard," though her own were al-
lowed to talk as much as they pleased.
Miss Day seemed cross, Mrs. Dinsmore was moody
and taciturn, complaining of headache, and Mr. Dins-
more occupied with the morning paper ; and so the
meal passed off in almost unbroken silence. Elsie
ELSIE DINSMORE. 39
was glad when it was over, and hastening to the
school-room, she began her tasks without waiting for
the arrival of the regular hour for study.
She had the room entirely to herself, and had been
busily engaged for half an hour in working out her
examples, when the opening of the door caused her
to look up, and, to her dismay, Arthur entered. He
did not, however, as she feared, begin his customary
course of teasing and tormenting, but seated himself
.at his desk, leaning his head upon his hand in an
attitude of dejection.
Elsie wondered what ailed him, his conduct was so
unusual, and she could not help every now and then
sending an inquiring glance toward him, and at
length she asked, " What is the matter, Arthur ?"
~ 7 7
" Nothing much,' 3 said he, gruffly, turning his
back to her.
Thus repulsed, she said no more, but gave her un-
divided attention to her employment ; and so diligent
was she, that Miss Day had no excuse whatever for
fault-finding this morning. Her tasks were all com-
pleted within the required time, and she enjoyed her
promised ride with her aunt and Miss Allison, and
her visit to the fair, very much indeed.
It was still early when they returned ; and finding
that she had nearly an hour to dispose of before tea-
time, Elsie thought she would finish a drawing which
she had left in her desk in the school-room. While
searching for it and her pencil, she heard Lora's and
Arthur's voices on the veranda.
40 ELSIE DINSMORE.
She did not notice what they were saying, until
her own name struck her ear.
' ' Elsie is the only person/' Lora was saying, " who
can, and probably will, help you ; for she has plenty
of money, and she is so kind and generous ; but, if
I were you, I should be ashamed to ask her, after
the way you have acted toward her. ' :
lt I wish I hadn't teased her so yesterday," replied
Arthur, disconsolately, " but it's such fun, I can't
help it sometimes.' 1
" Well, I know I wouldn't ask a favor of anybody
I had treated so," said Lora, walking away.
Elsie sat still a few moments, working at her draw-
ing and wondering all the time what it was Arthur
wanted, and thinking how glad she would be of an
opportunity of returning him good for evil. She did
not like, though, to seek his confidence, but pres-
ently hearing him heave a deep sigh, she rose and
went out on the veranda.
He was leaning on the railing in an attitude of de-
jection, his head bent down and his eyes fixed on the
floor. She went up to him, and laying her hand
softly on his shoulder, said, in the sweet, gentle tones
natural to her, ' * What ails you, Arthur ? Can I do>
anything for you ? I will be very glad if I can.'
"No yes "he answered hesitatingly; "I
wouldn't like to ask you after after "
il Oh ! nevermind," said Elsie, quickly, " I do not
care anything about that now. I had the ride to-
day, and that was better still, because I went with
ELSIE DINSMORE. 4*
Aunt Adelaide and Miss Allison. Tell me what you
want. '
Thus encouraged, Arthur replied, " I saw a beauti-
ful little ship yesterday when I was in the city ; it
was only five dollars, and I've set my heart on having
it, but my pocket money's all gone, and papa won't
give me a cent until next month's allowance is due ;
and by that time the ship will be gone, for it's such
a beauty somebody Ml be sure to buy it."
"Won't your mamma buy it for you?" asked
Elsie.
" No, she says she hasn't the money to spare just
now. You know it's near the end of the month, and
they've all spent their allowance except Louise, and
ghe says she'll not lend her money to such a spend-
thrift as I am.''
Elsie drew out her purse, and seemed just about to
yut it into his hand ; but, apparently changing her
mind, she hesitated a moment, and then returning it
to her pocket, said, with a half smile, " I don't know,
Arthur ; five dollars is a good deal for a little girl like
me to lay out at once. I must think about it a little. "
11 I don't ask you to give it," he replied scorn-
fully ; "I'll pay it back in two weeks."
. " Well, I will see by to-morrow morning," she said,
darting away, while he sent an angry glance after her,
jn uttering the word " stingy" between his teeth.
Elsie ran down to the kitchen, asking of one and
another of the servants as she passed, " Where's
Porapey ?" The last time she put the question to
42 ELSIE DINSMORK
Phoebe, the cook, but was answered by Pompey him-
self. " Here am Pomp, Miss Elsie ; what does lit-
tle missy want wid dis chile ?"
" Are you going to the city to-night, Pompey ?"
" Yes, Miss Elsie, I'se got some arrants to do for
missus an' de family in ginral, an' I ben gwine start
in 'bout ten minutes. Little missy wants sumpin', eh ?' r
Elsie motioned to him to come close to her, and
then putting her purse into his hands, she told him
in a whisper of Arthur's wish, and directed him to-
purchase the coveted toy, and bring it to her, if pos-
sible, without letting any one else know anything
about it. And keep half a dollar for yourself, Pom-,
pey, to pay you for your trouble," she added in con*
elusion.
' ' Tank you, little missy, ' ' he replied, with a broad
grin of satisfaction ; " dat be berry good pay, and
Pomp am de man to do dis business up for you 'bout
right."
The tea-bell rang, and Elsie hastened away to
answer the summons. She looked across the table at
Arthur with a pleasant smile on her countenance, but
he averted his eyes with an angry scowl ; and with a
slight sigh she turned away her head, and did not
look at him again during the meal.
Pompey executed his commission faithfully ; and
when Elsie returned to her own room, after her even-
ing hour with Miss Rose, Chloe pointed out the little
ship standing on the mantel.
" Oh ! it's a little beauty," cried Elsie, clapping
ELSIE DINSMORE. 43
her hands and dancing up and down with delight ;
4 i how Arthur will be pleased ! Now, mammy, can
you take it to the school-room, and put it on Master
Arthur's desk, without anybody seeing you ?"
" Ole Chloe'll try, darlin'," she said, taking it in
her hands.
u Oh ! wait one moment," exclaimed Elsie ; and
taking a card, she wrote on it, " A present to Arthur,
from his niece Elsie.' Then laying it on the deck
of the little vessel, " There, mammy," she said, " I
think that will do ; but please look out first to see
whether any one is in the hall."
" Coast all clear, darlin'," replied Chloe, after a
careful survey ; "all de chillensam in bed before dis
time, I spec." And taking a candle in one hand and
the little ship in the other, she started for the school-
room. She soon returned with a broad grin of sat-
isfaction on her black face, saying, " All right, dar-
lin', I put him on Massa Arthur's desk, an' nobody
de wiser.'
So Elsie went to bed very happy in the thought
of the pleasure Arthur would have in receiving her
present.
She was hurrying down to the breakfast- room the
next morning, a little in advance of Miss Rose, who
had stopped to speak to Adelaide, when Arthur came
running up behind her, having just come in by a side
door from the garden, and seizing her round the waist,
he said, " Thank you, Elsie ; you're a real good girl !
She sails beautifully. I've been trying her on
44 ELSIE DINSMOEE.
pond. But it mustn't be a present ; you must let
me pay you back when I get my allowance."
" Oh ! no, Arthur, that would spoil it all," she
answered quickly ; " you are entirely welcome, and
you know my allowance is so large that half the time
1 have more money than I know how to spend. '
" I should like to see the time when that would be
the case with me," said he, laughing. Then in a
lower tone, " Elsie, I'm sorry I teased you so. I'll
not do it again soon."
Elsie answered him with a grateful look, as she
stepped past him and quietly took her place at the
table.
Arthur kept his word, and for many weeks entirely
refrained from teasing Elsie, and while freed from
that annoyance she was always able to have her tasks
thoroughly prepared ; and though her governess was
often unreasonable and exacting, and there was
scarcely a day in which she was not called upon to
yield her own wishes or pleasures, or in some way to
inconvenience herself to please Walter or Enna, or
occasionally the older members of the family, yet it
was an unusually happy winter to her, for Rose Alli-
son's love and uniform kindness shed sunshine on her
path. She had learned to yield readily to others, and
when fretted or saddened by unjust or unkind treat-
ment, a few moments alone with her precious Bible
and her loved Saviour made all right again, and she
would come from those sweet communings looking as-
serenely happy as if she had never known an annoy-
ELSIE DINSMORE. 45
ance. She was a wonder to all the family. Her
i
grandfather would sometimes look at her as, without
a frown or a pout, she would give up her own wishes,
to Enna, and shaking his head, say, " She's no Dins-
more, or she would know how to stand up for her own.
rights better than that. / don't like such tame- spir-
ited people. She's not Horace's child : it never was.
an easy matter to impose upon or conquer him. He
was a boy of spirit."
" What a strange child Elsie is !" Adelaide re-
marked to her friend one day. ** I am often sur-
prised to see how sweetly she gives up to all of us ;
really she has a lovely temper. I quite envy her ; it
was always hard for me to give up my own way.'
" I do not believe it was easy for her at first," said
Rose. " I think her sweet disposition is the fruit of
a work of grace in her heart. It is the ornament of
a meek and quiet spirit, which God alone can be-
stow. ' :
" I wish I had it, then," said Adelaide, sighing.
" You have only to go to the right source to ob-
tain it, dear Adelaide," replied her friend, gently.
11 And yet," said Adelaide, " I must say I some-
times think that, as papa says, there is something
mean-spirited and cowardly in always giving up to
other people.'
" It would indeed be cowardly and wrong to give
up principle, 1 ' replied Rose, " but surely it is noble
and generous to give up our own wishes to another,,
where no principle is involved.'
46 ELSIE DINSMORE.
" Certainly, you are right, " said Adelaide, musing-
ly. " And now I recollect that, readily as Elsie gives
up her own wishes to others on ordinary occasions,
I have never known her to sacrifice principle ; but, on
the contrary, she has several times made mamma ex-
cessively angry by refusing to romp and play with
Enna on the Sabbath, or to deceive papa when ques-
tioned with regard to some of Arthur's misdeeds ;
yet she has often borne the blame of his faults, when
she might have escaped by telling of him. Elsie is
-certainly very different from any of the rest of us,
.and if it is piety 'that makes her what she is, I think
piety is a very lovely thing.'
Elsie's mornings were spent in the school-room ; in
the afternoon she walked, or rode out, sometimes in
company with her young uncles and aunts, and some-
times alone, a negro boy following at a respectful
distance, as a protector. In the evening there was
almost always company in the parlor, and she found
it pleasanter to sit beside the bright wood-fire in her
-own room, with her fond old nurse for a companion,
than to stay there, or with the younger ones in the
sitting-room or nursery. If she had no lesson to
learn, she usually read aloud to Chloe, as she sat
knitting by the fire, and the Bible was the book
generally preferred by both ; and then when she grew
weary of reading, she would often tai_e a stool, and
sitting down close to Chloe, put her head in her lap,
saying, u Xow, mammy, tell me about mamma. "
And then for the hundredth time or more the old
ELSIE DINSMORE. 47
woman would go over the story of the life and death
of her " dear young missus," as she* always called
her ; telling of her beauty, her goodness, and of her
sorrows and sufferings during the last year of her
short life.
It was a story which never lost its charm for Elsie ;
a story which the one never wearied of telling, nor
the other of hearing. Elsie would sit listening, with
her mother's miniature in her hand, gazing at it with
tearful eyes, then press it to her lips, murmuring,
" My own mamma ; poor, dear mamma. >: And
when Chloe had finished that story she would usually
say, " Now, mammy, tell me all about papa. ' ;
But upon this subject Chloe had very little infor-
mation to give. She knew him only as a gay, hand-
some young stranger, whom she had seen occasion-
ally during a few months, and who had stolen all the
sunshine from her beloved young mistress's life, and
left her to die alone ; yet she did not blame him when-
speaking to his child, for the young wife had told her
that he had not forsaken her of his own free choice ;
and though she could not quite banish from her own
mind the idea that he had not been altogether inno-
cent in the matter, she breathed no hint of it to Elsie ;
for Chloe was a sensible woman, and knew that to
lead the little one to think ill of her only remaining
parent would but tend to make her unhappy.
Sometimes Elsie would ask very earnestly, " Do-
you think papa loves Jesus, mammy ?" And Chloe
would reply with a doubtful shake of the head,,.
48 ELSIE DINSMORE.
4i Dunno, darlin' ; but ole Chloe prays for him ebery
day. '
" And so do I," Elsie would answer ; " dear, dear
papa, how I wish he would come home !"
And so the winter glided away, and spring came,
and Miss Allison must soon return home. It was
now the last day of March, and her departure had
been fixed for the second of April. For a number of
weeks Elsie had been engaged, during all her spare
moments, in knitting a purse for Hose, wishing to
give her something which was the work of her own
hands, knowing that as such it would be more prized
by her friend than a costlier gift. She had just re-
turned from her afternoon ride, and taking out her
work she sat down to finish it. She was in her own
room, with no companion but Chloe, who sat beside
her knitting as usual.
Elsie worked on silently for some time, then sud-
denly holding up her purse, she exclaimed, " See,
mammy, it is all done but putting on the tassel !
Isn't it pretty ? and won't dear Miss Allison be
pleased with it ?"
It really was very pretty indeed, of crimson and
gold, and beautifully knit, and Chloe, looking at it
with admiring eyes, said, " I spec she will, darlin'.
I tink it's berry handsome."
At this moment Enna opened the door and came
in.
Elsie hastily attempted to conceal the purse by
thrusting it into her pocket, but it was too late, for
ELSIE DINSMORE. 49
Enna had seen it, and running toward her, cried
out, " Now, Elsie, just give that to me !"
" No, Enna," replied Elsie, mildly ; " I cannot let
you have it, because it is for Miss Rose. "
" I will have it," exclaimed the child, resolutely,
" and if you don't give it to me at once I shall just,
go and tell mamma. '
' ' I will let you take it in your hand a few momenta
to look at it, if you will be careful not to soil it,
Enna," said Elsie, in the same gentle tone ; " and if
you wish, I will get some more silk and beads, and-
make you one just like it ; but I cannot give you this,
because I would not have time to make another for
Miss Rose. r
" No, I shall just have that one ; and I shall have
it to keep," said Enna, attempting to snatch it out
of Elsie's hand.
But Elsie held it up out of her reach, and after
trying several times in vain to get it, Enna left the
room, crying and screaming with passion.
Chloe locked the door, saying, " Great pity, darlin',
we forgot to do dat 'fore Miss Enna came. I'se 'fraid
she gwine bring missus for make you gib um up."
Elsie sat down to her work again, but she was very*
pale, and her little hands trembled with agitation,
and her soft eyes were full of tears.
Chloe's fears were but too well founded ; for the-
next moment hasty steps were heard in the passage,
and the handle of the door was laid hold of with no
very gentle grasp ; and then, as it refused to yield to
ELSIE DINSHORE.
her touch, Mrs. Dinsmore's voice was heard in ai*
angry tone giving the command, " Open this door
instantly.'
Chloe looked at her young mistress.
" You will have to," said Elsie, tearfully, slipping
her work into her pocket again, and lifting up her
heart in prayer for patience and meekness, for she
well knew she would have need of both.
Mrs. Dinsmore entered, leading the sobbing Enna
by the hand ; her face was flushed with passion, and
addressing Elsie in tones of violent anger, she asked,
*' What is the meaning of all this, you good-for-
nothing hussey ? Why are you always tormenting
this poor child ? Where is that paltry trifle that all
this fuss is about ? let me see it this instant."
Elsie drew the purse from her pocket, saying in
tearful, trembling tones, " It is a purse I was making
for Miss Rose, ma'am ; and I offered to make another
just like it for Enna ; but I cannot give her this one,
because there would not be time to make another
before Miss Rose goes away.'
" You can not give it to her, indeed ? You will
not, you mean ; but I say you shall and I'll see if
I'm not mistress in mv own house. Give it to the
tf
child this instant ; I'll not have her crying her eyes
out that you may be humored in all your whims.
There are plenty of handsomer ones to be had in the
city, and if you are too mean to make her a present
of it, I'll buy you another to-morrow.'
44 But that would not be my work, and this is,*'
ELSIE DINSMORE. 51
replied Elsie, still retaining the purse, loath to let it
go.
" Nonsense ! what difference will that make to*
Miss Rose ?'' said Mrs. Dinsmore ; and snatching it
out of her hand, she gave it to Enna, saying, " There,
my pet, you shall have it. Elsie is a naughty, mean,,
stingy girl, but she sha'n't plague you while your
mamma's about.'
Enna cast a look of triumph at Elsie, and ran off
with her prize, followed by her mother, while poor
Eisie hid her face in Chloe's lap, and cried bitterly.
It required all Chloe's religion to keep down her
anger and indignation at this unjust and cruel treat-
ment of her darling, and for a few moments she
allowed her to sob and cry without a word, only
soothing her with mute caresses, not daring to trust
her voice, lest her anger should find vent in words.
But at length, when her feelings had grown some-
what calmer, she said soothingly, " Nebber mind it,.
my poor darlin' chile. Just go to de city and buy
de prettiest purse you can find, for Miss Rose.' 1
But Elsie shook her head sadly. * ' I wanted it to*
be my own work, ' ' she sobbed, ' ' and now there is
no time. "
" Oh ! I'll tell you what, my pet," exclaimed Chloe
suddenly, " dere's de purse you was aknittin' for your
papa, an' dey wouldn't send it for you ; you can get
dat done for de lady, and knit another for your papa,
'fore he comes home."
Elsie raised her head with a look of relief, but her
52 ELSIE DINSMORE.
face clouded again, as she replied, " But it is not
quite done, and I haven't the beads to finish it with,
and Miss Rose goes day after to-morrow."
" Nebber mind dat, darlin'," said Chloe, jumping
up ; " Pomp he been gwine to de city dis berry after-
noon, an' we'll tell him to buy de beads, an' den you
can get de purse finished 'fore to-morrow night, an'
de lady don' go till de next day, an' so it gwine all
come right yet.'
" Oh ! yes, that will do ; dear old mammy, I'm so
glad you thought of it," said Elsie, joyfully. And
rising, she went to her bureau, and unlocking a draw-
er, took from it a bead purse of blue and gold, quite
as handsome as the one of which she had been so
ruthlessly despoiled, and rolling it up in a piece of
paper, she handed it to Chloe, saying, " There, mam-
my, please give it to Pomp, and tell him to match the
beads and the silk exactly.'
Chloe hastened in search of Pomp, but when she
found him, he insisted that he should not have time
to attend to Miss Elsie's commission and do his other
errands ; and Chloe, knowing that he, in common with
all the other servants, was very fond of the little girl,
felt satisfied that it was not merely an excuse, there-
fore did not urge her request. She stood a mo-
ment in great perplexity, then suddenly exclaimed,
41 I'll go myself. Miss Elsie will spare me, an' I'll
go right long wid you, Pomp."
Chloe was entirely Elsie's servant, having no other
business than to wait upon her and take care of her
ELSIE D1NSMORE. 53
elothing and her room ; and the little girl, of course
readily gave her permission to accompany Pomp and
do the en and.
But it was quite late ere Chloe returned, and the
little girl spent the evening alone in her own room.
She was sadly disappointed that she could not even
have her hour with Miss Rose, who w r as detained in
the parlor with company whom she could not leave,
and so the evening seemed very long and wore away
very slowly.
But at last Chloe came, and in answer to her eager
inquiries displayed her purchases with great satisfac-
tion, .saying, " Yes, darlin', I'se got de berry t'inga
you wanted. '
" Oh ! yes," said Elsie, examining them with de-
light ; " they are just right ; and now I can finish it
in a couple of hours."
" Time to get ready for bed now, ain't it, pet ?' J
asked Chloe ; but before the little girl had time to
answer, a servant knocked at the door, and handed
in a note for her. It was from Miss Allison, and,
hastily tearing it open, she read :
" DEAR ELSIE I am very sorry that we cannot
have our reading together this evening ; but be sure,
darling, to come to me early in the morning ; it will
be our last opportunity, for, dear child, I have another
disappointment for you. I had not expected to leave
before day after to-morrow, but I have learned this
evening that the vessel sails a day sooner than I had
54 ELSIE DINSMORE.
supposed, and therefore I shall be obliged to start on
my journey to-morrow.
" Your friend, ROSE."
Elsie dropped the note on the floor and burst into
tears.
u What de matter, darlin' ?" asked Chloe, anx-
iously.
' ' Oh ! Miss Rose, dear, dear Miss Rose is going to-
morrow, " she sobbed. Then hastily drying her eyes,
she said : " But I have no time for crying, I must
sit up and finish the purse to-night, because there
will not be time to-morrow."
It was long past her usual hour for retiring when
at last her task, or rather her labor of love, was com-
pleted. Yet she was up betimes, and at the usual
hour her gentle rap was heard at Miss Allison's door.
Rose clasped her in her arms and kissed her ten-
derly.
" Miss Rose ! dear, dear Miss Rose, what shall
I do without you ?" sobbed the little girl. " I shall
have nobody to love me now but mammy."
" You have another and a better Friend, dear Elsie r
who has said, ' I will never leave thee, nor forsake
thee, ' ' whispered Rose, with another tender caress.
" Yes," said Elsie, wiping away her tears ; " and
He is your Friend, too ; and don't you think, Miss
Rose, He will bring us together again some day ?"
" I hope so indeed, darling. We must keep very
close to Him, dear Elsie ; we must often commune
ELSIE DINSMORE. 55
with Him in secret ; often study His word, and try
always to do His will. Ah ! dear child, if we can
only have the assurance that that dear Friend is with
us that we have His presence and His love, we shall
be supremely happy, though separated from all earthly
friends. I know, dear little one, that you have pecul-
iar trials, and that you often feel the w r ant of sym-
pathy and love ; but you may always find them in
Jesus. And now we will have our reading and
prayer as usual."
She took the little girl in her lap, and opening the
Bible, read aloud the fourteenth chapter of John, a
part of that touching farewell of our Saviour to His
sorrowing disciples ; and then they knelt to pray.
Elsie was only a listener, for her little heart was too
iull to allow her to be anything more.
" My poor darling !" Rose said, again taking her
in her arms, * * we will hope to meet again before very
long. Who knows but your papa may come home,
-and some day bring you to see me. It seems not
unlikely, as he is so fond of travelling."
Elsie looked up, smiling through her tears, " Oh !
how delightful that would be," she said. " But it
seems as though my papa would never come," she
added, with a deep-drawn sigh.
" Well, darling, we can hope," Rose answered
cheerfully. " And, dear child, though we must be
separated hi body for a time, we can still meet in
spirit at the mercy-seat. Shall we not do so at this
tour every morning ?"
56 ELSIE DINSMORK
Elsie gave a joyful assent.
" And I shall write to you, darling," Rose said -
I will write on my journey, if I can, so that you
get the letter in a week from the time I leave ;
and then you must write to me ; will you ?"
' If you won't care for the mistakes, Miss Rose.
But you know I am a very little girl, and I wouldn't
like to let Miss Day read my letter to you, to correct
it. But I shall be so very glad to get yours. I
never had a letter in my life."
1 1 sha'n't care for mistakes at all, dear ; and no
one shall see your letters but myself," said Rose,
kissing her. " I should be as sorry as you to have
Miss Day look at them. "
Elsie drew out the purse and put it in her friend's
hand, saying, "It is all my own work, dear Miss
Rose ; I thought you would value it more for that."
' And indeed I shall, darling," replied Rose, with
tears of pleasure in her eyes. ' ' It is beautiful in
itself, but I shall value it ten times more because
it is your gift, and the work of your own dear little
hands. ' :
But the breakfast-bell now summoned them to
join the rest of the family, and, in a few moments
after they left the table, the carriage which was to-
take Rose to the city was at the door. Rose had en-
deared herself to all, old and young, and they were
loath to part with her. One after another bade her
an affectionate farewell. Elsie was the last. Rose
pressed her tenderly to her bosom, and kissed her
ELSIE DINSMORE. 57
again and again, saying, in a voice half choked with
grief, " God bless and keep you, my poor little dar-
ling ; my dear, dear little Elsie !"
Elsie could not speak ; and the moment the car-
nage had rolled away with her friend, she went to
her own room, and locking herself in, cried long and
bitterly. She had learned to love Rose very dearly,
and to lean upon her very much ; and now the part-
ing from her, with no certainty of ever meeting her
again in this world, was the severest trial the poor
child had ever known.
Cfrapfer
" The morning blush was lighted up by hope
The hope of meeting him."
Miss LANDOK.
" Unkindness, do thy office ; poor heart, break. 1 *
A WEEK had now passed away since Miss Allison's
departure, and Elsie, to whom it had been a sad and
lonely one, was beginning to look eagerly for her first
letter.
" It is just a week to-day since Rose left," remarked
Adelaide at the breakfast table, " and I think we
ought to hear from her soon. She promised to write
on her journey. Ah ! here comes Pomp with the
letters now, ' ' she added, as the servant man entered
the room bearing in his hand the bag in which he
always brought the letters of the family from the
office in the neighboring city, whither he was sent
every morning.
" Pomp, you are late this morning," said Mrs.
Dinsinore.
" Yes, missus," replied the negro, scratching his
head, " de horses am berry lazy ; spec dey's got de-
spring fever."
" Do make haste, papa, and see if there is not one
from Rose," said Adelaide coaxingly, as her father
ELSIE DINSMORE. 59
took the bag, and very deliberately adjusted his
spectacles before opening it.
" Have patience, young lady," said he. " Yes,
liere is a letter for you, and one for Elsie, ' ' tossing
them across the table as he spoke.
Elsie eagerly seized hers and ran away to her own
room to read it. It was a feast to her, this first let-
ter, and from such a dear friend too. It gave her
almost as much pleasure for the moment as Miss
Hose's presence could have afforded.
She had just finished its perusal and was beginning
it again, when she heard Adelaide's voice calling her
by name, and the next moment she entered the room,
saying, " Well, Elsie, I suppose you have read your
letter ; and now I have another piece of news for
you. Can you guess what it is ?" she asked, look-
ing at her with a strange smile.
" Oh ! no, Aunt Adelaide ; please tell me. Is
dear Miss Rose coming back ?"
" Oh ! nonsense ; what a guess !" said Adelaide.
* ' No, stranger than that. My brother Horace your
papa has actually sailed for America, and is com-
ing directly home.'
Elsie sprang up, her cheeks flushed, and her little
heart beating wildly.
" O Aunt Adelaide !" she cried, " is it really
true ? is he coming ? and will he be here soon ?"
" He has really started at last ; but how soon he
will be here I don't know," replied her aunt, turning to
leave the room. ' ' I have told you all I know about it. ' '
60 ELSIE DINSMORE.
Elsie clasped her hands together, and sank down
upon a sofa, Miss Rose's letter, prized so highly a
moment before, lying unheeded at her feet ; for her
thoughts were far away, following that unknown
parent as he crossed the ocean ; trying to imagine
how he would look, how he would speak, what would
be his feelino-s toward her.
o
11 Oh !" she asked, with a beating heart, " will he
love me ? My own papa ! will he let me love him ?
will he take me in his arms and call me his own dar-
ling child ?"
But who could answer the anxious inquiry ? She
must just wait until the slow wheels of time should
bring the much longed-for, yet sometimes half-
dreaded arrival.
Elsie's lessons were but indifferently recited that
morning, and Miss Day frowned, and said in a tone
of severity that it did not agree with her to receive
letters ; and that, unless she wished her papa to be
much displeased with her on his expected arrival, she
must do a great deal better than that.
She had touched the right chord then ; for Elsie,
intensely anxious to please that unknown father, and,
if possible, gain his approbation and affection, gave
her whole mind to her studies with such a deter-
mined purpose that the governess could find no more
cause for complaint.
But while the child is looking forward to the ex-
pected meeting with such longing affection for him,
how is it with the father ?
ELSIE DINSMORE. 61
Horace Dinsmore was, like his father, an upright,
moral man, who paid an outward respect to the forms
of religion, but cared nothing for the vital power of
godliness ; trusted entirely to his morality, and looked
upon Christians as hypocrites and deceivers. He had
been told that his little Elsie was one of these, and,
thouo-h he would not have acknowledged it even to
J? o
himself, it had prejudiced him against her. Then,
too, in common with all the Dinsmores, he had a
great deal of family pride ; and, though old Mr. Gray-
son had been a man of sterling worth, intelligent,
honest, and pious, and had died very wealthy, yet be-
cause he was known to have begun life as a poor boy r
the-whole family were accustomed to speak as though
Horace had stooped very much in marrying his heiress.
And Horace himself had come to look upon his
early marriage as a piece of boyish folly, of which he
was rather ashamed ; and so constantly had Mr. Dins-
more spoken in his letters of Elsie as " old Grayson's
grandchild," that he had got into the habit of look-
ing upon her as a kind of disgrace to him ; especially
as she had always been described to him as a disa-
greeable, troublesome child.
He had loved his wife with all the warmth of his
passionate nature, and had mourned bitterly over her
untimely death ; but years of study, travel and
worldly pleasures had almost banished her image from
his mind, and he seldom thought of her except in
connection with the child for whom he felt a secret
dislike.
62 ELSIE DIN SHORE.
Scarcely anything but the expected arrival was now
spoken or thought of at Roselands, and Elsie was
not the only one to whom old Time seemed to move
with an unusually laggard pace.
But at length a letter came telling them that they
might look upon it as being but one day in advance
of its writer ; and now all was bustle and prepara-
tion.
" mammy, mammy ! 1T exclaimed Elsie, jump-
ing up and down, and clapping her hands for joy, as
she came in from her afternoon ride, " just think !
papa, dear papa will be here to-morrow morning."
She seemed wild with delight ; but suddenly so-
bered down, and a look of care stole over the Irttle
face, as the torturing question recurred to her mind,
" Will he love me?"
She stood quite still, with her eyes fixed thought-
fully, and almost sadly, upon the floor, while Chloe
took off her riding dress and cap and smoothed her
hair. As she finished arranging her dress she clasped
the little form in her arms, and pressed a fond kiss
on the fair brow, thinking; to herself that it was the
7 o
sweetest and loveliest little face she had ever looked
upon.
Just at that moment an unusual bustle was heard
in the house.
Elsie started, changed color, and stood listening
with a throbbinff heart.
O
Presently little feet were heard running rapidly
down the hall, and "Walter, throwing open the door,
ELSIE DIN SHORE. 63
called out, " Elsie, he's come !" and catching her
hand, hurried her along to the parlor door.
" Stop, stop, Walter," she gasped as they reached
it ; and she leaned against the wall, her heart throb-
bing so wildly she could scarcely breathe.
" What is the matter ?" said he ; " are you ill ?
come along ;" and pushing the door open, he rushed
in, dragging her after him.
So over-wrought were the child's feelings that she
nearly fainted ; everything in the room seemed to be
turning round, and for an instant she scarcely knew
where she was.
But a strange voice asked, " And who is this ?"
and looking up as her grandfather pronounced her
name, she saw a stranger standing before her very
handsome, and very youthful-looking in spite of a
heavy dark beard and mustache who exclaimed has-
tily, " What ! this great girl my child ? really it is
enough to make a man feel old."
O
Then taking her hand, he stooped and coldly kissed
her lips.
She was trembling violently, and the very depth
of her feelings kept her silent and still : her hand
lay still in his, cold and clammy.
He held it an instant, at the same time gazing
searchingly into her face ; then dropped it, saying in
a tone of displeasure, " I am not an ogre, that you
need be so afraid of me ; but there, you may go ; I
will not keep you in terror any longer."
She rushed away to her own room, and there
64 ELSIE D1SSMORE.
throwing herself upon the bed wept long and wildly.
It was the disappointment of a lifelong hope. Since
her earliest recollection she had looked and longed
O
for this hour ; and it seemed as though the little
heart would break with its weight of bitter anguish.
She was all alone, for Chloe had gone down to the
kitchen to talk over the arrival, not doubting that
her darling was supremely happy in the possession
of her long looked- for parent.
And so the little girl lay there with her crushed
and bleeding heart, sobbing, mourning, weeping as
though she would weep her very life away, without
an earthly friend to speak one word of comfort.
" papa, papa !" she sobbed, " my own papa,
you do not love me ; me, your own little girl. Oh !
my heart will break. O mamma, mamma ! if I could
only go to you ; for there is no one here to love me,
and I am so lonely, oh ! so lonely and desolate."
And thus Chloe found her, when she came in an
hour later, weeping and sobbing out such broken ex-
clamations of grief and anguish.
She was raucli surprised, but comprehending at
once how her child was suffering, she raised her up
in her strong arms, and laying the little head lovingly
against her bosom, she smoothed the tangled hair,
kissed the tear swollen eyes, and bathed the throbbing
temples, saying, " My precious pet, my darlin' chile,
your ole mammy loves you better dan life ; an' did
my darlin' forget de almighty Friend dat says, '/ have
loved thee with an everlasting love,' an' ' I will never
LJ f
ELSIE DINSMORE. 65
leave thee, nor forsake thee ' ? He sticks closer dan a
brudder, precious chile, and says, ' though a woman
forget her sucking child, He will not forget If is
chillen.' Mothers loves dere chillens better dan
fathers, darlin', and so you see Jesus' love is better
dan all other love ; an' I knows you lies got dat."
' ' O mammy ! ask Him to take me to Himself, and to
mamma for oh ! I am very lonely, and I want to die. "
*/ v '
" Hush, hush, darlin' ; old Chloe nebber could ask
dat ; dis ole heart would break for sure. You's all
de world to your old mammy, darlin' ; an' you know
we must all wait de Lord's time.' :
" Then ask Him to help me to be patient," she
said, in a weary tone. " And mammy !" she
added, with a burst of bitter tears, " ask Him to
make uiy father love me. '
" I will, darlin', I will," sobbed Chloe, pressing
the little form closer to her heart ; " an' don't vou
V
go for to be discouraged right away ; for Tse sure
Massa Horace must love you 'fore long."
The tea-bell rang, and the family gathered about
the table ; but one chair remained unoccupied.
' ; AVhere is Miss Elsie ?" asked Adelaide of one
of the servants.
" Dunno, missus," was the reply.
" Well, then, go and see/' said Adelaide ; " per-
haps she did not hear the bell.'
The servant returned in a moment, saying that Miss
Elsie had a bad headache and did not want any supper.
Mr. Horace Dinsmore paused in the conversation
66 ELSIE DINSMORE.
he was carrying on with his father, to listen to the
servant's announcement. " 1 hope she is not a sickly
child," said he, addressing Adelaide ; "is she sub-
ject to such attacks ?"
" Not very," replied his sister, drily, for she had
seen the meeting, and felt really sorry for Elsie's evi-
dent disappointment ; " I imagine crying has brought
this on.'
He colored violently, and said in a tone of great dis-
pleasure, " Truly, the return of a parent is a cause for
grief ; yet I hardly expected my presence to be quite
so distressing to my only child. I had no idea that
she had already learned to dislike me so thoroughly. '
" She doesn't,' 1 ' said Adelaide, " she has been
looking and longing for your return ever since I
have known her."
" Then she has certainly been disappointed in me ;
her grief is not at all complimentary, explain it as
you will."
Adelaide made no reply, for she saw that he was
determined to put an unfavorable construction upon
Elsie's conduct, and feared that any defence she
could offer would only increase his displeasure.
It was a weary, aching head the little girl laid upon
her pillow that night, and the little heart was sad and
sore ; yet she was not altogether comfortless, for she
had turned in her sorrow to Him who has said,
" Suffer the little children .to come unto me, and for-
bid them not, ' ' and she had the sweet assurance of
His love and favor.
ELSIE DIN SNORE. 67
It was with a trembling heart, hoping yet fearing,
longing and yet dreading to see her father, that Elsie
descended to the breakfast-room the next morning.
She glanced timidly around, but he was not there.
" Where is papa, Aunt Adelaide ?" she asked.
" He is not coming down to breakfast, as he feels
quite fatigued with his journey," replied her aunt ;
" so you will not see him this morning, and perhaps
not at all to-day, for there will be a good deal of
company here this afternoon and evening. "
Elsie sighed, and looked sadly disappointed. She
found it very difficult to attend to her lessons that
morning, and every time the door opened she started
and looked up, half hoping it might be her papa.
But he did not come ; and when the dinner hour
arrived, the children were told that they \vere to dine
in the nursery, on account of the large number of
guests to be entertained in the dining-room. The
company remained until bedtime ; she was ftot
called down to the parlor ; and so saw nothing of
her father that day.
But the next morning Chloe told her the children
were to breakfast with the family, as all the visitors
had left excepting one or two gentlemen. So Elsi*
went down to the breakfast-room, where, to her sui
prise, she found her papa sitting alone, reading tin
morning paper.
He looked up as she entered.
" Good morning, papa," she said, in half -trem-
bling tones.
68 ELSIE DINSMORE
He started a little for it was the first time lie Lad
ever been addressed by tliat title, and it sounded
strange to Ins ears gave Ler a glance of mingled
curiosity and interest, Lalf Leld out Lis Land, but
drawing it back again, simply said, " Good morn-
ing, Elsie," and returned to Lis paper.
Elsie stood irresolutely in the middle of the floor,
wanting, yet not daring to go to Lim.
But just at that instant tlie door opened, and Enna,
looking rosy and Lappy, came running in, and rusL-
ing up to Ler brother, climbed upon Lis knee, and
put Ler arms around Lis neck, saying, " Good morn-
ing, brotLer Horace. I want a kiss."
" You sLall Lave it, little pet," said Le, throwing
down Lis paper.
Then, kissing Ler several times and Lugging Ler in
Lis arms, Le said, " You are not afraid of me, are
you ? nor sorry tLat I Lave come Lome ?"
44 Xo, indeed," said Enna.
He glanced at Elsie as slie stood looking at tLem,
Ler large soft eyes full of tears. She could not Lelp
feeling tLat Enna Lad Ler place, and was receiving
tLe caresses tLat sliould Lave been lavislied upon
Lerself.
11 Jealous," thougLt Ler fatLer ; " I cannot bear
jealous people ;" and Le gave Ler a look of dis-
pleasure tLat cut Ler to tlie Leart, and sLe turned
quickly away and left tLe room to Lide tLe tears siie
could no longer keep back.
44 I am envious," slie tLougLt, " jealous of Enna.
ELSIE DINSMORE. 69
Oh ! how wicked !" And she prayed silently, " Deaf
Saviour, help me ! take away these sinful feelings.' 1
Young as she was, she was learning to have some
control over her feelings, and in a few moments she
had so far recovered her composure as to be able to
return to the breakfast-room and take her place at the
table, where the rest were already seated, her sweet
little face sad indeed and bearing the traces of tears,
but quite calm and peaceful.
Her father took no further notice of her, and she
did not dare trust herself to look at him. The ser-
vants filled her plate, and she ate in silence, feeling it
a great relief that all were too busily engaged in talk-
ing and eating to pay any attention to her. She
scarcely raised her eyes from her plate, and did not
know how often a strange gentleman, who sat nearly
opposite, fixed his upon her.
As she left the room at the conclusion of the meal,
he asked, while following her with his eyes, " Is that
one of your sisters, Dinsmore ?"
" Xo," said he, coloring slightly ; " she is my
daughter. ' :
" Ah, indeed !" said his friend. " I remember
to have heard that you had a child, but had forgot-
ten it. Well, vou have no reason to be ashamed of
7 v
her : she is lovely, perfectly lovely ! has the sweet-
est little face I ever saw.' :
"Will you ride, Travilla ?" asked Mr. Dins-
more hastily, as though anxious to change the
subject.
70 ELSIE Diy SMOKE.
14 1 don't care if I do," 1 was the reply ; and they
went out together.
Some hours later in the day Elsie was at the piano
in the music-room practising, when a sudden feeling
that some one was in the room caused her to turn
and look behind her.
Mr. Travilla was standing 1 there.
^
" Excuse me," said he, bowing politely, "but I
heard the sound of the instrument, and, being very
fond of music, I ventured to walk in. '
Elsie was very modest, and rather timid too, but
also very polite ; so she said, " Xo excuse is neces-
sary ; but will you not take a seat, sir I though I fear
mv music will not afford YOU anv pleasure, for YOU
r
know I am only a little girl, and cannot play very
well yet."
" Thank YOU,' said he, taking a seat bv her
.
side. " And now will you do me the favor to re-
peat the sono; I heard YOU sinodnof a few moments
.
since -.
Elsie immediately complied, though her cheeks
burned, and her voice trembled at first from embar-
rassment ; but it grew stronger as she proceeded,
and in the last verse was quite steady and full. She
had a very line voice for a child of her age ; its
sweetness was remarkable both in singing and speak-
ing ; and she had also a good deal of musical talent,
which had been well cultivated, for she had had
good teachers, and had practised with sjreat patience
and perseverance. Her music was simple, as suited
ELSIE LIXSMORE. *) I
her years, but her performance of it was very good
indeed.
Mr. Travilla thanked her very heartilv, and com-
V *
plimented her singing ; then asked for another and
another song, another and another piece, chatting
with her about each, until they grew quite familiar,
and Elsie lost all feeling of embarrassment.
O
" Elsie, I think, is your name, is it not ?" he
asked after a little.
" Yes, sir," said she, " Elsie Dinsmore.'
" And you are the daughter of my friend, Mr.
Horace Dinsmore ?"
"Yes, sir."
" Your papa has been absent a long time, and I
suppose you must have quite forgotten him.'
" No, sir, not forgotten, for I never had seenhim."
" Indeed !" said he, in a tone of surprise ; " then,
since he is an entire stranger to you, I suppose you
cannot have much affection for him ?' :
Elsie raised her large, dark eyes to his face, with
an expression of astonishment. " Xot love papa,
my own dear papa, who has no child but me ? Oh !
sir, how could YOU think that ?"
t.
" Ah ! I see I was mistaken," said he, smiling ;
*' I thought you could hardly care for him at all ;
but do you think that he loves you ?"
Elsie dropped her face into her hands, and burst
into an agony of tears.
The young gentleman looked extremely vexed with
himself.
72 ELSIE DINSMORE.
"My poor little girl, my poor, dear little girl," he
said, stroking her hair, " forgive me. I am verv,
very sorry for my thoughtless question. Do be com-
forted, my poor child, for whether your papa loves
you now or not, I am quite sure he soon will."
Elsie dried her tears, rose, and closed the instru-
ment. He assisted her, and then asked if she
would not take a little walk with him in the o-ar-
o
den. She complied, and, feeling really very sorry for
the wound he had so thoughtlessly inflicted, as well
as interested in his little companion, he exerted all
his powers to entertain her talked with her about
the plants and flowers, described those he had seen
in foreign lands, and related incidents of travel, usu-
ally choosing those in which her father had borne a
part, because he perceived that they were doubly in-
teresting to her.
Elsie, having been thrown very much upon her
own resources for amusement, and having a natural
love for books, and constant access to her grand-
father's well stocked library, had read many more,
and with much more thought, than most children of
her age, so that Mr. Travilla found her a not unin-
teresting companion, and was often surprised at the
intelligence shown by her questions and replies.
When the dinner-bell rang he led her in, and
seated her by himself, and never was any lady more
carefully waited upon than little Elsie at this meaL
Two or three other gentlemen guests were present,
giving their attention to the older ladies of the corn-
ELSIE DIN SHORE. 73
pany, and thus Mr. Travilla seemed to feel quite a f
liberty to devote himself entirely to her, attending tc
all her wants, talking with her, and making her talk.
Elsie now and then stole a glance at Mrs. Dins-
more, fearing her displeasure ; but to her great relief,
the lady seemed too much occupied to notice her.
Once she looked timidly at her father, and her eyes
met his. He was looking at her with an expression
half curious, half amused. She was at a loss to
understand the look, but, satisfied that there was no
displeasure in it, her heart grew light, and her
cheeks flushed with happiness.
" Really, Dinsmore," said Mr. Travilla, as they
stood together near one of the windows of the draw-
ing room soon after dinner, ' ' your little ffirl is re-
V ^3
markably intelligent, as well as remarkably pretty ;
and I have discovered that she has quite a good deal
of musical talent.' 1
' Indeed ! I think it is quite a pity that she does
not belong to you, Travilla, instead of me, since you
seem to appreciate her so much more highly, ' ' re-
plied the father, laughing.
" I wish she did," said his friend. " But serious-
ly, Dinsmore, you ought to love that child, for she
certainly loves you devotedly."
He looked surprised. " How do you know ?"
he asked.
; It was evident enough from what I saw and
heard this morning. Dinsmore, she would value a
caress from you more than the richest jewel."
74 ELSIE D1NSMORE.
" Doubtful," replied Horace, hastily qutting the
room, for Elsie had come out on to the portico in her
riding suit, and Jim, her usual attendant, was bring-
ing up her horse.
" Are you going to ride, Elsie ?' ; asked her father,
coming up to her.
" Yes, papa," she said, raising her eyes to his face.
He lifted her in his arms and placed her on the
horse, saying to the servant as he did so, " Now,
Jim, you must take good care of my little girl."
Tears of happiness rose in Elsie's eyes as she turned
her horse's head and rode down the avenue. " He
called me his little girl," she murmured to herself,
" and bade Jim take good care of me. Oh ! he will
love me soon, as good, kind Mr. Travilla said he
ivould."-
Her father was still standing on the portico, look-
ing after her.
' ' How well she sits her horse !" remarked Travilla,
who had stepped out and stood close by his side.
" Yes, I think she does," was the reply, in an ab-
sent tone. He was thinking of a time, some eight or
nine years before, when he had assisted another Elsie
to mount her horse, and had ridden for hours at her
side.
All the afternoon memories of the past came crowd-
ing thickly on his mind, and an emotion of tenderness
began to spring up in his heart toward the child of
her who had once been so dear to him ; and as he
saw the little girl ride up to the house on her return,.
ELSIE DIN SHORE. 75
he again went out, and lifting her from her horse,
asked kindly, " Had you a pleasant ride, my
dear ?' '
" Oh ! yes, papa, very pleasant," she said, look-
ing up at him with a face beaming with delight. He
stooped and kissed her, saying, ' ' I think I shall ride
with you one of these days ; should you like it ?"
" Oh ! so very, very much, papa," she answered,
eagerly.
He smiled at ner earnestness, and she hastened
away to her room to change her dress and tell Chloe
of her happiness.
Alas ! it was but a transient gleam of sunshine
that darted across her path, to be lost again almost
instantly behind the gathering clouds.
More company came, so that the drawing-room was
quite full in the evening ; and, though Elsie was there,
her father seemed too much occupied with the guests
to give her even a glance. She sat alone and un-
noticed in a corner, her eyes following him wherever
he moved, and her ear strained to catch every tone
of his voice ; until Mr. Travilla, disengaging himself
from a group of ladies and gentlemen on the opposite
side of the room, came up to her, and taking her by
the hand, led her to a pleasant-looking elderly lady,
who sat at a centre-table examining some choice en-
gravings which Mr. Dinsmore had brought with him
from Europe.
* ' Mother, ' ' said Mr. Travilla, ' { this is my littla
friend Elsie."
76 ELSIE DINSMORE.
11 Ah !" said she, giving the little girl a kiss, " I
am glad to see you, my dear/'
Mr. Tra villa set a chair for her close to his mother
and then sat down on her other side, and taking up
the engravings one after another, he explained them
to her in a most entertaining manner, generally hav-
ino- some anecdote to tell in connection with each.
O
Elsie was so much amused and delighted with what
he was saying that she at last quite forgot her father,
and did not notice w r here he was.
Suddenly Mr. Travilla laid down the engraving he
had in his hand, saying, " Come, Miss Elsie, I want
my mother to hear you play and sing ; will you not
do me the favor to repeat that song I admired so
much this morning ?"
"Oh! Mr. Travilla!" exclaimed the little girl,
blushing and trembling, " I could not play or sing
before so many people. Please excuse me.'
" Elsie," said her father's voice just at her side,
" go immediately, and do as the gentleman requests."
His tone was very stern, and as she lifted her eyes
to his face, she saw that his look was still more so ;
and tremblingly and tearfully she rose to obey.
" Stay," said Mr. Travilla kindly, pitying her dis-
tress, u I withdraw my request."
" But I do not withdraw my command," said her
father in the same stern tone ; "go at once, Elsie,
and do as I bid you.'
She obeyed instantly, struggling hard to overcome
her emotion.
DIXSMORE. 77
M r . Travilla, scolding himself inwardly all the time
/
for having brought her into such trouble, selected her
music, and placing it before her as she took her seat
at the instrument, whispered encouragingly, " Xow,
Miss Elsie, only have confidence in yourself ; that is
all that is necessary to your success.'
But Elsie was not only embarrassed, but her heart
was well-nigh broken by her father's sternness, and
the tears would fill her eyes so that she could see
neither notes nor words. She attempted to play the
prelude, but blundered sadly, her embarrassment in-
creasing every moment.
" Xever mind," said Mr. Travilla, " never mind
the prelude, but just begin the song.'
She made the attempt, but fairly broke down, ami
burst into tears before she had got through the first
verse. Her father had come up behind her, and was
standing there, looking much mortified.
O 7 O
" Elsie," he said, leaning down and speaking in a
low, stern tone, close to her ear, " I am ashamed of
you ; goto your room and to your bed immediately."
With a heart almost bursting with grief and morti-
fication she obeyed him, and her pillow was wet with
many bitter tears ere the weary eyes closed in slum-
ber.
"When she came down the next morning she learned
to her great grief that Mr. Travilla and his mother
had returned to their own home ; she was very sorry
she had not been permitted to say good bye to her
friend, and for several days she felt very sad and
78 ELSIE DIN SHORE.
Jonely, for all her father's coldness of manner had
returned, and he scarcely ever spoke to her ; while
the younger members of the family ridiculed her for
her failure in attempting to play for company ; and
Miss Day, who seemed unusually cross and exacting,
often taunted her with it also.
These were sad, dark days for the little girl ; she
tried most earnestly to attend to all her duties, but so
depressed were her spirits, so troubled was her mind,
that she failed repeatedly in her lessons, and so was
in continual disgrace with Miss Day, who threatened
more than once to tell her papa.
It was a threat which Elsie dreaded extremely to
have put in execution, and Miss Day, seeing that it
distressed her, used it the more frequently, and thus
kept the poor child in constant terror.
How to gain her father's love was the constant
subject of her thoughts, and she tried in many ways
to win his affection. She always yielded a ready and
cheerful obedience to his commands, and strove to
anticipate and fulfil all his wishes. But he seldom
noticed her, unless to give a command or administer
a rebuke, while he lavished many a caress upon his
little sister, Enna. Often Elsie would watch him
fondling her, until, unable any longer to control her
feelings, she would rush away to her own room to
weep and mourn in secret, and pray that her father
might some day learn to love her. She never com-
plained even to poor old Aunt Chloe, but the anxious
nurse watched all these things with tV" jealous eye of
ELSIE DINSMORE. 79
affection ; she saw that her child as she delighted
to call her was very unhappy and was growing pale
and melancholy ; and her heart ached for her, and
many were the tears she shed in secret over the sor-
rows of her nursling.
" Don't 'pear so sorrowful, darlm'," she sometimes
said to her ; " try to be merry, like Miss Enna, and
run and jump on Massa Horace's knee, and den I
tink he will like you better."
" O mammy ! I can't," Elsie would say ; " I don't
dare to do it."
And Chloe would si^h and shake her head sor-
O
rowfully.
Jfourtlj.
44 With more capacity for love than earth
Bestows on most of mortal mould and birth."
BYRON.
" What are our hopes ?
Like garlands, on affliction's forehead worn,
Kissed in the morning, and at evening torn/'
DAVENPORT'S King John and Matilda.
SUCH had been the state of affairs for about a week,
when one morning Elsie and her father met at the
breakfast-room door.
11 Good morning, papa," she said timidly.
" Good morning, Elsie," he replied in an unusually
pleasant tone.
Then taking her by the hand, he led her in and
seated her beside himself at the table.
Elsie's cheek glowed and her eyes sparkled with
pleasure.
There were several guests present, and she waited
patiently while they and the older members of the
family were being helped. At length it was her
turn.
" Elsie, will you have some meat ?" asked her
grandfather.
" No," said her father, answering for her ; " once
a day is as often as a child of her age ought to eat
ELSIE DIN SHORE. 81
meat ; she may have it at dinner, but never for
breakfast or tea."
The elder Mr. Dinsmore laughed, saying, " Really,
Horace, I had no idea you were so notionate. I al-
ways allowed you to eat whatever you pleased, and I
never saw that it hurt you. But of course you must
manage your own child in your own way."
" If you please, papa, I had rather have some of
those hot cakes," said Elsie, timidly, as her father
laid a slice of bread upon her plate.
" No," said he decidedly ; " I don't approve of
hot bread for children ; you must eat the cold."
Then to a servant who was setting down a cup of
coffee beside the little girl's plate, " Take that away,
Pomp, and bring Miss Elsie a tumbler of milk. Or
would you prefer water, Elsie ?"
11 Milk, if you please, papa," she replied with a lit-
tle sigh ; for she was extremely fond of coffee, and
it was something of a trial to give it up.
Her father put a spoonful of stewed fruit upon her
plate, and as Pompey set down a tumbler of rich
milk beside it, said, ' ' Now you have your breakfast
before you, Elsie. Children in England are not al-
lowed to eat butter until they are ten or eleven years
of age, and I think it an excellent plan, to make them
grow up rosy and healthy. I have neglected my lit-
tle girl too long, but I intend to begin to take good
care of her now," he added with a smile, and laying
his hand for an instant upon her head.
The slight caress and the few kind words were quite
S2 ELSIE DIN8MORE.
enough to reconcile Elsie to the rather meagre fare,
and she ate it with a happy heart. But the meagre
fare became a constant thing, while the caresses and
kind words were not ; and though she submitted
without a murmur, she could not help sometimes
looking with longing eyes at the coffee and ho^ but-
tered rolls, of which she was very fond. But she
*/
tried to be contented, saying to herself, " Papa
knows best, and I ought to be satisfied with what-
ever he gives me."
" Isn't it delightful to have your papa at home,
Elsie ?" Mr. Dinsmore one morning overheard Ar-
O
thur saying to his little girl in a mocking tone. " It's
very pleasant to live on bread and water, isn't it, eh ?"
" I dorit live on bread and water," Elsie replied, a
little indignantly. " Papa always allows me to have
as much good, rich milk, and cream, and fruit as I
want, or I can have eggs, or cheese, or honey, or any-
thing else, except meat, and hot cakes, and butter,
and coffee ; and who wouldn't rather do without
such things all their lives than not have a papa to
love them ? And besides, you know, Arthur, that I
can have all the meat I want at dinner."
11 Pooh ! that's nothing ; and / wouldn't give
much for all the love you get from him," said Ar-
thur, scornfully.
J
There was something like a sob from Elsie ; and
O
as her father rose and went to the window, he just
caught a glimpse of her white dress disappearing
down the garden walk.
ELSIE DINSMORE. 83
" What do you mean, sir, by teasing Elsie in that
manner ?" he exclaimed angrily to Arthur, who still
stood where the little girl had left him, leaning
against one of the pillars of the portico.
" I only wanted to have a little fun," returned the
boy doggedly.
" Weil, sir, I don't approve of such fun, and you
will please to let the child alone in future," replied
his brother as he returned to his newspaper again.
But somehow the paper had lost its interest. He
seemed constantly to hear that little sob, and to see
a little face all wet with tears of wounded feeling.
Just then the school-bell rang, and suddenly throw-
ing down his paper, he took a card from his pocket,
wrote a few words upon it, and calling a servant,
said, " Take this to Miss Day.'
Elsie was seated at her desk, beginning her morn-
ing's work, when the servant entered and handed the
card to the governess.
Miss Day glanced at it and said :
11 Elsie, your father wants you. You may go.'
Elsie rose in some trepidation and left the room,
wondering what her papa could want with her.
" Where is papa, Fanny ?" she asked of the servant.
lt Inde drawin'-room, Miss Elsie," was the reply ;
and she hastened to seek him there.
He held out his hand as she entered, saying with
a smile, ' ' Come here, daughter. '
It was the first time he had called her that, and it
sent a thrill of joy to her heart.
#4 ELSIE DINSMORE.
She sprang to his side, and, taking her hand in one
of his, and laying the other gently on her head, and
bending it back a little, he looked keenly into her
face. It was bright enough now, yet the traces of
tears were very evident.
" You have been crying," he said, in a slightly re-
proving tone. " I am afraid you do a great deal more
of that than is good for you. It is a very babyish
habit, and you must try to break yourself of it."
The little face flushed painfully, and the eyes filled
again.
" There," he said, stroking her hair, " don't begin
it again. I am going to drive over to Ion, where
your friend Mr. Travilla lives, to spend the day ;
would my little daughter like to go with me ?"
" Oh ! so wry much, papa !" she answered eagerly.
" There are no little folks there," he said smiling,
" nobody to see but Mr. Travilla and his mother. But
I see you want to go ; so run and ask Aunt Chloe to
get you ready. Tell her I want you nicely dressed, and
the carriage will be at the door in half an hour."
Elsie bounded away to do his bidding, her face
radiant with happiness ; and at the specified time
ame down again, looking so very lovely that her
father gazed at her with proud delight, and could
not refrain from giving her a kiss as he lifted her up
to place her in the carriage.
Then seating himself beside her, he took her hand
in his ; and, closing the door with the other, bade
the coachman drive on.
ELSIE DINSMGRE. 85
" I suppose you have never been to Ion, Elsie ?"
he said, inquiringly.
" Xo, sir ; but I have heard Aunt Adelaide say she
thought it a very pretty place," replied the little girl.
"So it is almost as pretty as Roselands," said
her father. ' ' Travilla and I have known each other
from boyhood, and I spent many a happy day at Ion,
and we had many a boyish frolic together, before I
ever thought of you.'
lie smiled, and patted her cheek as he spoke.
Elsie's eyes sparkled. " O papa !" she said ea-
gerly, ** won't you tell me about those times ? It
seems so strange that you were ever a little boy and
I was nowhere."
He laughed. Then said, musingly, " It seems but
a very little while to me, Elsie, since I was no older
than you are now.'
He heaved a sigh, and relapsed into silence.
Elsie wished very much that he would grant her
request, but did not dare to disturb him by speaking
a word ; and they rode on quietly for some time,
until a squirrel darting up a tree caught her eye, and
she uttered an exclamation. " papa ! did you see
that squirrel ? look at him now, perched up on that
branch. There, we have passed the tree, and now
he is out of sight. '
This reminded Mr. Dinsmore of a day he had spent
in those woods hunting squirrels, when quite a boy,
and he gave Elsie an animated account of it. One
of the incidents of the day had been the accidental
86 ELSIE DINSMORE.
discharge of the fowling-piece of one of his young
companions, close at Horace Dinsmore' s side, miss-
ing him by but a hair's breadth.
u I felt faint and sick when I knew how near I
had been to death,' ' he said, as he finished his nar-
rative.
Elsie had been listening with breathless interest,
" Dear papa," she murmured, laying her little cheek
against his hand, " how good God was to spare your
life ! If you had been killed I could never have had
you for my papa. '
" Perhaps you might have had a much better one,
Elsie, ' : ' he said gravely.
" Oh ! no, papa, I wouldn't want any other," she
replied earnestly, pressing his hand to her lips.
11 Ah ! here we are," exclaimed her father, as at
that instant the carriage turned into a broad avenue,
up which they drove quite rapidly, and the next mo-
ment they had stopped, the coachman had thrown
open the carriage door, and Mr. Dinsmore, springing
out, lifted his little girl in his arms and set her down
on the steps of the veranda.
" Ah ! Dinsmore, how do you do ? Glad to see
you, and my little friend Elsie too. Why this is
really kind," cried Mr. Travilla, in his cheerful,
hearty way, as, hurrying out to welcome them, he
shook Mr. Dinsmore cordially by the hand, and
kissed Elsie's cheek.
" Walk in, walk in,' : ' he continued, leading the
way into the house, " my mother will be delighted
ELSIE DIN SHORE. 87
to see you both ; Miss Elsie especially, for she seems
to have taken a very great fancy to her.'
If Mrs. Tra villa's greeting was less boisterous, it
certainly was not lacking in cordiality, and she
made Elsie feel at home at once ; taking off her
bonnet, smoothing her hair, and kissing her affec-
tionately.
The gentlemen soon went out together, and Elsie
spent the morning in Mrs. Travilla's room, chatting
with her and assisting her with some coarse garments
she was making for her servants.
Mrs. Tra villa was an earnest Christian, and the
lady and the little girl were not long in discovering
the tie which existed between them.
Mrs. Travilla, being also a woman of great discern-
ment, and having known Horace Dinsmore nearly all
his life, had conceived a very correct idea of the trials
and difficulties of Elsie's situation, and without al-
luding to them at all, gave her some most excellent
advice, which the little girl received very thank-
fully.
ti
They were still chatting together when Mr. Travilla
came in, saying, " Come. Elsie, I want to take you out
to see my garden, hot-house, etc. "We will just have
time before dinner. Will you go along, mother ?' :
" No ; I have some little matters to attend to be-
fore dinner, and will leave you to do the honors, "re-
plied the lady ; and taking the little girl's hand he
led her out.
11 Where is papa ?" asked Elsie.
88 ELSIE DINSMORE.
" Oh ! he's in the library, looking over some new
books," replied Mr. Tra villa. " He always cared
more for books than anything- else. But what do
you think of my flowers ?"
4 ' Oh ! they are lovely ! What a variety you have !
what a splendid cape-jessamine that is ! and there is
a variety of cactus I never saw before ! Oh ! you
have a great many more, and handsomer, I think,
than we have at Roselands," exclaimed Elsie, as she
passed admiringly from one to another.
Mr. Travilla was much pleased with the admiration
she expressed, for he was very fond of his flowers,
and took great pride in showing them.
But they were soon called in to dinner, where Elsie
was seated by her father.
" I hope this little girl has not given you any
trouble, Mrs. Travilla," said he, looking gravely at
her.
** Oh ! no," the lady hastened to say, " I have en-
joyed her company very much indeed, and hope you
will bring her to see me again very soon."
After dinner, as the day was very warm, they ad-
journed to the veranda, which was the coolest place
to be found ; it being on the shady side of the house,
and also protected by thick trees, underneath which
a beautiful fountain was playing.
But the conversation was upon some subject which
did not interest Elsie, and she presently stole away
to the library, and seating herself in a corner of the
sofa, was soon lost to everything around her in the
ELSIE DINSMORE. 89
intense interest with which she was reading a book
she had taken from the table.
" Ah ! that is what you are about, Miss Elsie ! a
bookworm, just like your father, I see. I had been
wondering what had become of you for the last two
hours," exclaimed Mr. Travilla's pleasant voice ; and
sitting down beside her, he took the book from her
hand, and putting it behind him, said, " Put it away
now ; you will have time enough to finish it, and I
want you to talk to me.'
'.' Oh ! please let me have it," she pleaded. " I
shall not have much time, for papa will soon be call-
ing me to go home.'
' ' Xo, no, he is not to take you away ; I have made
a bargain with him to let me keep you," said Mr.
Travilla, very gravely. " We both think that there
are children enough at Roselands without you ; and
so your papa has given you to me ; and you are to
be my little girl, and call me papa in future.''
Elsie gazed earnestly in his face for an instant,
saying in a half frightened tone, " You are only jok-
ing, Mr. Travilla."
" Xot a bit of it," said he ; " can't you see that
I'm in earnest ?"
His tone and look were both so serious that for an
instant Elsie believed he meant all that he was saying,
and springing to her feet with a little cry of alarm, she
hastilv withdrew her hand which he had taken, and
v
rushing; out to the veranda, where her father still
o
sat conversing with Mrs. Travilla, she flung herself
90 t ELSIE DINSMORE.
into his arms, and clinging to him, hid her face on
his breast, sobbing, " O papa, dear papa ! don't give
me away ; please don't I will be so good I will
do everything you bid me I ' :
"Why, Elsie, what does all this mean?" ex-
claimed Mr. Dinsmore in great surprise and perplex-
ity ; while Mr. Travilla stood in the doorway looking
half amused, half sorry for what he had done.
** O papa !" sobbed the little girl, still clinging to
him as though fearing she should be torn from his
arms, " Mr. Travilla says you have given me to him.
O papa ! doii't give me away.'
" Pooh ! nonsense, Elsie ! I am ashamed of you !
how can you be so very silly as to believe for one
moment anything so perfectly absurd as that I should
think of giving you away ? Why I would as soon
think of parting with my eyes.'
Elsie raised her head and gazed searchingly into
his face ; then with a deep-drawn sigh of relief,
dropped it again, saying, " Oh ! I am so glad.'
tl Really, Miss Elsie," said Travilla, coming up and
patting her on the shoulder, " I can't say that I feel
much complimented ; and, indeed, I don't see why
you need have been so very much distressed at the
prospect before you ; for I must say I have vanity
enough to imagine that I should make the better or
at least the more indulgent father of the two.
O
Come now, wouldn't you be willing to try me for a
month, if your papa will give consent ?"
Elsie shook her head.
ELSIE DIN SHORE. 91
" I will let you have your own way in everything,"
urged Travilla, coaxingly, " and I know that is more
than he does.''
" I don't want my own way, Mr. Travilla ; I know
it wouldn't always be a good way," replied Elsie,
decidedly.
Her father laughed and passed his hand caressingly
over her curls.
" I thought you liked me, little Elsie," said Tra-
villa, in a tone of disappointment.
" So I do, Mr. Travilla ; I like you very much,"
she replied.
" Well, don't you think I would make a good
father ?"
* * I am sure you would be very kind, and that I should
love you very much ; but not so much as I love my
own papa : because, you know, you are no^my papa,
and never can be, even if he should give me to you.'
Mr. Dinsmore laughed heartily, saying, " I think
you may as well give it up, Travilla ; it seems I'll
have to keep her whether or no, for she clings to me
like a leech.'
" Well, Elsie, you will at least come to the piano
and play a little for me, will you not ?' : asked Tra-
villa, smiling.
But Elsie still clung to her father, seeming loath to
leave him, until he said, in his grave, decided way,
" Go, Elsie ; go at once, and do as you are requested."
Then she rose instantly to obey.
Travilla looked somewhat vexed. "I wish, "he
92 ELSIE DINSMORE.
afterward remarked to his mother, " that Dinsmore
was not quite so ready to second my requests with
his commands. I want Elsie's compliance to be vol-
untary ; else I think it worth very little."
Elsie played and sang until they were called to
tea ; after which she sat quietly by her father's side,
listening to the conversation of her elders until the
carriage was announced.
O
"Well, my daughter," said Mr. Dinsmore, when
they were fairly upon their way to Roselands, " have
you had a pleasant day ?' '
" Oh ! very pleasant, papa, excepting " She
paused, looking a little embarrassed.
" Well, excepting what ?" he asked, smiling down
at her.
" Excepting when Mr. Travilla frightened me so,
papa," she replied, moving closer to his side, blush-
ing and casting down her eyes.
" And you do love your own papa best, and don't
want to exchange him for another ?" he said inquiring-
ly, as he passed his arm affectionately around her
waist.
" Oh ! no, dear papa, not for anybody else in all
the world," she said earnestly.
t)
He made no reply in words, but, looking highly
gratified, bent down and kissed her cheek.
He did not speak again during their ride, but when
the carriage stopped he -lifted her out, and setting
her gently down, bade her a kind good-night, saying
it was time for mammy to put her to bed.
ELSIE DINSMORE. 93
She ran lightly up-stairs, and springing into her
nurse's arms, exclaimed, " O mammy, mammy ! what
a pleasant, pleasant day I have had ! *Papa has been
so kind, and so were Mr. Travilla and his mother."
" I'se berry glad, darlin', an' I hope you gwine hab
many more such days," replied Chloe, embracing hei
fondly and then proceeding to take off her bonnet
and prepare her for bed, while Elsie gave her a mi-
nute account of all the occurrences of the day, not
omitting the fright Mr. Travilla had given her, and
how happily her fears had been relieved.
" You look berry happy, my darlin' pet," said
Chloe, clasping her nursling again in her arms when
her task was finished.
" Yes, mammy, I am happy, oh ! so happy, be-
cause I do believe that papa is beginning to love me
a little, and I hope that perhaps, after a while, he will
love me very much.'
The tears gathered in her eyes as she spoke.
The next afternoon, as Elsie was returning from
her walk, she met her father.
" Elsie," said he, in a reproving tone, " I have
forbidden you to walk out alone ; are you disobey-
ing me ?' :
n
No, papa," she replied meekly, raising her eyes
to his face, " I was not alone until about five minutes
ago, when Aunt Adelaide and Louise left me. They
said it did not matter, as I was so near home ; and they
were going to make a call, and did not want me along."
Very well," he said, taking hold of her hand and
V .
94 ELSIE DINSMORE.
making her walk by his side. " How far have you
been ?"
" We went down the river bank to the big spring,
papa. I believe it is a little more than a mile that
way ; but when we came home, we made it shorter
by coming across some of the fields and through the
meadow."
" Through the meadow ?" said Mr. Dinsmore ;
" don't you go there again, Elsie, unless I give you
express permission."
" Why, papa ?" she asked, looking up at him in
some surprise.
"Because I forbid it," he replied sternly ; " that
is quite enough for you to know ; all you have to do
is to obey, and you need never ask me why, when I
give you an order."
Elsie's eyes filled, and a big tear rolled quickly
down her cheek.
" I did not mean to be naughty, papa," she said,
struggling to keep down a sob, " and I will try never
to ask why again." ^
" There is another thing," said he. " You cry
quite too easily ; it is entirely too babyish for a girl
of your age ; you must quit it."
" I will try, papa," said the little girl, wiping her
eyes, and making a great effort to control her feelings.
They had entered the avenue while this conversa-
tion was going on, and were now drawing near the
house ; and just at this moment a little girl about
Elsie's age came running to meet them, exclaiming,
ELSIE DINSMORE. 95
" Elsie ! I'm glad you've come at last. We've
been here a whole hour mamma, and Herbert, and
I and I've been looking for you all this time. 7
' ' How do you do, Miss Lucy Carrington ? I see
you can talk as fast as ever," said Mr. Dinsmore,
laughing, and holding out his hand.
Lucy took it, saying, with a little pout, " To be
sure, Mr. Dinsmore, it isn't more than two or three
weeks since you were at our house, and I wouldn't
forget how to talk in that time.' Then looking at
Elsie, she went on, " We've come to stay a week ;
won't we have a fine time ?" and, catching her friend
round the waist, she gave her a hearty squeeze.
" I hope so," said Elsie, returning the embrace.
" I am glad you have come."
" Is your papa here, Miss Lucy ?" asked Mr.
Dinsmore.
" Yes, sir ; but he's going home again to-night,
and then he'll come back for us next week.'
" I must go in and speak to him," said Mr. Dins-
more. " Elsie, do you entertain Lucy.'
" Yes, sir, I will," said Elsie. " Come with me
to my room, won't you, Lucy ?"
" Yes ; but won't you speak to mamma first ? and
Herbert too ; you are such a favorite with both of
them ; and they still are in the dressing-room, for
mamma is not very well, and was quite fatigued
with her ride.'
Lucy led the way to her mamma's room, as sk&
spoke, Elsie following.
96 ELSIE DINSMORE.
11 Ah ! Elsie dear, how do you do ? I'm
lighted to see you," said Mrs. Carrington, rising
from the sofa as they entered.
Then, drawing- the little girl closer to her, she
passed her arm affectionately around her waist, and
kissed her several times.
" I suppose you are very happy now that your
papa has come home at last ?" she said, looking
searchingly into Elsie's face. " I remember you used
to be looking forward so to his return ; constantly
talking of it and longing for it."
Poor Elsie, conscious that her father's presence
had not brought with it the happiness she had
anticipated, and yet unwilling either to acknowledge
that fact or tell an untruth, was at a loss what to
say.
But she was relieved from the necessity of reply-
ing by Herbert, Lucy's twin brother, a pale, sickly-
looking boy, who had for several years been a suf-
ferer from hip complaint.
" O Elsie !" he exclaimed, catching hold of her
&
hand and squeezing it between both of his, " I'm
ever so glad to see you again.'
" Yes," said Mrs. Carrington, " Herbert always
says nobody can tell him such beautiful stories as
Elsie ; and nobody but his mother and his old
mammy was half so kind to run and wait on him
when he was laid on his back for so many weeks.
He missed you very much when we went home, and
often wished he was at Roselands ao-ain."
ELbtE DINSMORE. 97
< (
How is your hip now, Herbert ?" asked Elsie,
looking pityingly at the boy's pale face.
4 ' Oh ! a great deal better, thank you. I can take
quite long walks sometimes now, though I still limp,
and cannot run and leap like other boys."
They chatted a few moments longer, and then Elsie
went to her room to have her hat taken off, and her
hair made smooth before the tea-bell should ring.
The two little girls were seated together at the
table, Elsie's papa being on her other side.
" How nice these muffins are ! Don't you like
them, Elsie ?" asked Lucy, as she helped herself to
a third or fourth. .
" Yes, very much," said Elsie, cheerfully.
" Then what are you eating that cold bread for ?
and you haven't got any butter either. Pompey,
why don't you hand Miss Elsie the butter ?"
k ' No, Lucy, I mustn't have it. Papa does not
allow me to eat hot cakes or butter," said Elsie,
in the same cheerful tone in which she had spoken
before.
Lucy opened her eyes very wide, and drew in her
breath.
" Well !" she exclaimed, " I guess if my papa
should try that on me, I'd make such a fuss he'd
have to let me eat just whatever I wanted.' 1
" Elsie knows better than to do that," said Mr.
Dinsmore, who had overhead the conversation ;
" she would only get sent away from the table and
punished for her naughtiness."
98 ELSIE DINSMORE.
" 1 wouldn't do it anyhow, papa, said Elsie, rais-
ing her eyes beseechingly to his face.
" No, daughter, I don't believe you would," he
replied in an unusually kind tone, and Elsie's face
"flushed with pleasure.
Several days passed away very pleasantly, Lucy
sharing Elsie's studies in the mornings, while Herbert
remained with his mamma ; and then in the after-
noon all walking or riding out together, unless the
weather was too warm, when they spent the after-
noon playing in the veranda, on the shady side of the
house, and took their ride or walk after the sun was
down.
Arthur and Walter paid but little attention to Her-
bert, as his lameness prevented him from sharing in
the active sports which they preferred ; for they had
never been taught to yield their wishes to others, and
were consequently extremely selfish and overbearing-;
but Elsie was very kind, and did all in her power to
interest and amuse him.
One afternoon they all walked out together, at-
tended by Jim ; but Arthur and Walter, unwilling to
accommodate their pace to Herbert's slow movements,
were soon far in advance, Jim following close at their
heels.
" They're quite out of sight," said Herbert pres-
ently, " and I'm very tired. Let's sit down on this
bank, girls : 1 want to try my new bow, and you,
may run and pick up my arrows for me.'
Thank you, sir," said Lucy, laughing ; " Elsie
i <.
ELSIE DINSMORE. 99
may do it if she likes, but as for me, I mean to take
a nap ; this nice, soft gra^s will make an elegant
couch ;' ' and throwing herself down, she soon was, or
pretended to be, in a sound slumber ; while Herbert,
seating himself with his back against a tree, amused
himself with shooting his arrows here and there, Elsie
running for them and bringing them to him, until
she was quite heated and out of breath.
" Now I must rest a little, Herbert," she said at
length, sitting down beside him. ' ' Shall I tell you
a story ?' '
" Oh ! yes, do ; I like your stories, and I don't
mind leaving off shooting till you're done," said he,
laying down his bow.
Elsie's story lasted about ten minutes, and when
she had finished, Herbert took up his bow again,
saying, " I guess you're rested now, Elsie," and
sent an arrow over into the meadow.
" There ! just see how far I sent that ! do run and
bring it to me, Elsie," he cried, " and let me see if I
can't hit that tree next time ; I've but just missed it."
" I'm tired, Herbert, but I'll run and bring it to
you this once," replied Elsie, forgetting entirely her
father's prohibition ; ' t but then you must try to wait
until Jim comes back before you shoot any more.'
So saying, she darted away, and came back in a
moment with, the arrow in her hand. But a sudden
recollection had come over her just as she left the
meadow, and throwing down the arrow at the boy's
feet, she exclaimed in an agitated tone, " Her-
57874311
loo ELSIE D IS SHORE.
bert ! I must go home just as quickly as I can ; I
had forgotten oil ! how could I forget ! oh ! what
o ~
will papa say !"
" \Vliv, what's the matter .'" asked Herbert in
alarm.
" Xever mind/' said Elsie, sobbing. " There are
the boys coming- ; they will take care of you, and I
must go home. Good-bye."
And she ran quickly up the road, Herbert follow-
in:]; her retreating form with wondering eyes.
Elsie sped onward, crying bitterly as she went.
11 Where is papa .'" she inquired of a servant
whom she met in the avenue.
" Dunno, Miss Elsie, but I reckon Massa Horace
am in de house, kase his horse am in de stable."
Elsie hardly waited for the answer, but hurrying
into the house, went from room to room, looking and
asking in vain for her father. He was not in the
drawing-room, or the library, or his own apart-
ments. She had just come out of thts , and meet-
ing a chamber-maid in the hall, she exclaimed, "
Fanny ! where is papa -. can't you tell me .' for I
must see him. "
" Here I am, Elsie ; what do you want with me ?''
i
called out her father's voice from the veranda, where
she had neglected to look.
" "\Vhat do you want ?" he repeated, as his little girl
appeared before him with her flushed and tearful face.
Elsie moved slowly toward him, with a timid air
V
and downcast eves.
ELSIE DINS MORE. 101
" - wanted to tell you something, papa/' she said
in a low, tremulous tone.
" Well, I am listening," said he, taking hold of
her hand and drawing her to his side. " What is
it ? are you sick or hurt ?"
" No, papa, not either ; but but, papa ! I have
been a very naughty girl," she exclaimed, bursting
into tears, and sobbing violently. " I disobeyed
you, papa. I I have been in the meadow."
" Is it possible ! Would you dare to do so when
I so positively forbade it only the other day ?" he said
in his sternest tone, while a dark frown gathered on
his brow. " Elsie, I shall have to punish you.'
" I did not intend to disobey you, papa," she
sobbed ; "I quite forgot that you had forbidden me
to go there.'
"That is no excuse, no excuse at all," said he
severely ; " you must remember my commands ; and
J J V
if your memory is so poor I shall find means to
strengthen it."
He paused a moment, still looking sternly at the
little, trembling, sobbing girl at his side ; then asked,
41 What were you doing in the meadow ? tell me the
whole story, that I may understand just how severely
I ought to punish you."
Elsie gave him all the particulars ; and when, upon
questioning her closely, he perceived how entirely
voluntary her confession had been, his tone and man-
ner became less stern, and he said quite mildly,
4t Well, Elsie, I shall not be very severe with you
102 'ELSIE DINSMORE.
this time, as you seem to be very penitent, and have
made so full and frank a confession ; but beware how
you disobey me again, for you will not escape so-
easily another time ; and remember I will not take
f orgetf ulness as any excuse. Go now to Aunt Chloe,
and tell her from me that she is to put you immedi-
ately to bed."
" It is only the middle of the afternoon, papa,"
said Elsie, deprecatingly.
" If it were much earlier, Elsie, it would make no>
difference ; you must go at once to your bed, and
stay there until to-morrow morning.'
" "What will Lucy and Herbert think when they
come in and can't find me, papa ?" she said, weep-
ing afresh.
' ' You should have thought of that before you dis-
obeyed me/ : ' he answered very gravely. " If you
are hungry," he added, " you may ask Chloe to get
you a slice of bread or a cracker for your supper, but
you can have nothing else. '
Elsie lingered, looking timidly up into his face as
though wanting to say something, but afraid to ven-
ture.
" Speak, Elsie, if you have anything more to say, "
he said encouragingly.
" Dear papa, I am so sorry I have been so naughty,"
she murmured, leaning her head against the arm of
his chair, while the tears rolled fast down her cheeks ;
" won't you please forgive me, papa ? it seems to me I
can't go to sleep to-night if you are angry with me.'*
ELSIE DIN8MORE. 103
He seemed quite touched by her penitence. " Yes,
Elsie,'" he said, " I do forgive you. I am not at all
angry with you now, and you may go to sleep in
peace. Good night, my little daughter,' 1 and he
bent down and pressed his lips to her brow.
Elsie held up her face for another, and he kissed
her lips.
" Good night, dear papa," she said, " I hope I
shall never be such a naughty girl again.' And she
went to her room, made almost happy by that kiss
of forgiveness.
Elsie was up quite early the next morning and had
learned all her lessons before breakfast. As she came
down the stairs she saw, through the open door, her
papa standing with some of the men-servants, appar-
ently gazing at some object lying on the ground.
She ran out and stood on the steps of the portico,
looking at them and wondering what they were doing.
Presently her father turned round, and Seeing her,
held out his hand, calling, " Come here, Elsie. ' :
She sprang quickly down the steps, and running to
him, put her hand in his, saying, " Good morning,
papa. ' :
" Good morning, daughter,' said he, " I have
something to show you. '
And leading her forward a few paces, he pointed
to a large rattlesnake lying there.
" papa !" she cried, starting back and clinging
to him.
" It will not hurt youwo?0, " he said ; " it is dead ;
104 ELSIE DINSMORE.
the men killed it this morning in the meadow. Do
you see now why I forbade you to go there ?' ;
" O papa !" she murmured, in a low tone of deep
feeling, laying her cheek affectionately against his.
hand, " I might have lost my life by my disobedi-
ence. How good God w r as to take care of me ! Oh !
I hope I shall never be so naughty again. '
" I hope not," said he gravely, but not unkindly ;
II and I hope that you will always, after this, believe
that your father has some good reason for his com-
mands, even although he may not choose to explain
\t to you. ' '
" Yes, papa, I think I will," she answered, humbly*
The breakfast-bell had rung, and he now led her
in and seated her at the table.
Lucy Carrington looked curiously at her, and soon
took an opportunity to whisper, " Where were you
last night, Elsie ? I couldn't find you, and your papa
wouldn't say what had become of you, though I am
quite sure he knew.' :
" I'll tell you after breakfast,' replied Elsie,
blushing deeply.
Lucy waited rather impatiently until all had risen
from the table, and then, putting her arm round
Elsie's waist, she drew her out on to the veranda,
saying, " Now, Elsie, tell me ; you know you prom-
ised. ' '
" I was in bed," replied Elsie, dropping her eyes,,
\vhile the color mounted to her very hair.
" In bed ! before five o'clock !" exclaimed Lucy,
ELSIE DINSMORE. 105
in a tone of astonishment. " Why, what was that
for ?"
" Papa sent me,'" replied Elsie, with an effort.
" I had been nauo-htv, and disobeyed him."
O */ ' /
" Why, how strange ! Do tell me what you
had done !" exclaimed Lucy, with a face full of
curiosity.
" Papa had forbidden me to go into the meadow,
and I forgot all about it, and ran in there to get Her-
bert's arrow for him," replied Elsie, looking very
much ashamed.
" AVas that all? why, my papa wouldn't have pun-
ished me for that," said Lucy. " He might have
scolded me a little if I had done it on purpose, but
if I had told him I had forgotten, he would only have
said, ' You must remember better next time.'
" Papa says that forgetfulness is no excuse ; that
I am to remember his commands, and if I forget, he
will have to punish me, to make me remember better
next time," said Elsie.
11 He must be very strict indeed ; I'm glad he is
not my papa," replied Lucy, in a tone of great satis-
faction.
" Come, little girls, make haste and get ready ;
we are to start in half an hour," said Adelaide Dins-
more, calling to them from the hall door.
' O
The whole family, old and young, including visit-
ors, were on that day to go on a picnic up the river,
taking their dinner along, and spending the day in
the woods. They had been planning this excursion.
io6 ELSIE DIN SNORE.
for several days, and the children especially Lad
been looking forward to it with a great deal of
pleasure.
" Am I to go, Aunt Adelaide ? did papa say so ?"
asked Elsie anxiously, as she and Lucy hastened to
obey the summons.
" I presume you are to go of course, Elsie ; we
have been discussing the matter for the last three
days, always taking it for granted that you were to
make one of the party, and he has never said you
should not," replied Adelaide, good-naturedly ; " so-
make haste, or you will be too late. But here comes
your papa now," she added, as the library door
opened, and Mr. Dinsmore stepped out into the hall
where they were standing.
11 Horace, Elsie is to go of course ?"
" I do i^ot see the of course, Adelaide," said he
drily. " No ; Elsie is not to go ; she must stay at
home and attend to her lessons as usual. >:
A look of keen disappointment came over Elsie's
face, but she turned away without a word and went
up-stairs ; while Lucy, casting a look of wrathful in-
dignation at Mr. Dinsmore, ran after her, and follow-
ing her into her room, she put her arm round her
neck, saying, " Nevermind, Elsie : it's too bad, and
I wouldn't bear it. I'd go in spite of him.'
" No, no, Lucy, I must obey my father ; God says
so ; and besides, I couldn't do that if I wanted to,
for papa is stronger than I am, and would punish me
severely if I were to attempt such a thing," replied
ELSIE DINSMORE. 107
Elsie hastily, brushing away a tear that would come
into her eye.
" Then I'd coax him," said Lucy. " Come, I'll
go with you, and we will both try.'
11 No, "replied Elsie, with a hopeless shake of the
head, ' ' I have found out already that my papa never
breaks his word ; and nothing could induce him to
let me go, now that he has once saio! I should not.
But you will have to leave me, Lucy, or you will be
too late.'
" Good-bye, then," said Lucy, turning to go ;
" but I think it is a great shame, and I sha'n't half
enjoy myself without you."
" Well now, Horace, I think you might let the
child go," was Adelaide's somewhat indignant re-
joinder to her brother, as the two little girls disap-
peared ; "I can't conceive what reason you can have
for keeping her at home, and she looks so terribly
disappointed. Indeed, Horace, I am sometimes half
inclined to think you take pleasure in thwarting that
child. ' '
" You had better call me a tyrant at once, Ade-
laide," said he angrily, and turning very red ; " but
I must beg to be permitted to manage my own child
in my own way ; and I cannot see that I am under
any obligation to give my reasons either to you or
to any one else.'
" Well, if you did not intend to let her go,
I think you might have said so at first, and not
left the poor child to build her hopes upon it, only
io8 ELSIE DIN SHORE.
to be disappointed. I mnst say I think it was
cruel."
" Until this morning, Adelaide,'" he replied, " I
did intend to let her go, for I expected to go myself ;
but I find I shall not be able to do so, as I must meet
a gentleman on business ; and as I know that acci-
dents frequently occur to such pleasure parties, I
don't feel willing to let Elsie go, unless I could be there
myself to take care of her. Whether you belieye it
* **
or not, it is really regard for my child's safety, and not
cruelty, that leads me to refuse her this gratification. ''
" You are full of notions about that child, Hor-
ace," said Adelaide, a little impatiently. ' I'm
sure some of the rest of us could take care of her. '
" No ; in case of accident you would all haye
enough to do to take care of yourselves, and I shall
not think of trusting Elsie in the company, since I
cannot be there myself, ' : he answered decidedly ;
and Adelaide, seeing he was not to be moved from
7 O
his determination, gave up the attempt, and left the
room to prepare for her ride.
It was a great disappointment to Elsie, and for a
few moments her heart rose up in rebellion against
her father. She tried to put away the feeling, but it
would come back ; for she could not imagine any
reason for his refusal to let her go, excepting the
disobedience of the day before, and it seemed hard
and unjust to punish her twice for the same fault,
especially as he would have known nothing about it
but for her own frank and voluntary confession.
ELSIE DINS MO RE. 109
It was a great pity she had not heard the reasons
he gave her Aunt Adelaide, for then she would
have been quite submissive and content. It is in-
deed true that she ought to have been as it was ;
but our little Elsie, though sincerely desirous to do
right, was not yet perfect, and had already strangely
forgotten the lesson of the morning.
She watched from the veranda the departure of
the pleasure-seekers, all apparently in the gayest
spirits. She was surprised to see that her father was-
not with them, and it half reconciled her to staying*
at home, although she hardly expected to see much
of him ; but there was something pleasant in the
thought that he wanted her at home because he was
o
to be there himself ; it looked as though he really
had some affection for her, and even a selfish love
was better than none. I do not mean that these
were Elsie's thoughts ; no, she never would have
dreamed of calling her father selfish ; but the unde-
fined feeling was there, as she watched him hand the
ladies into the carriage, and then turn and reenter
the house as they drove off.
But Miss Day's bell rang, and Elsie gathered up
her books and hastened to the school-room. Her
patience and endurance were sorely tried that morn-
ing, for Miss Day was in an exceedingly bad humor,
being greatly mortified and also highly indignant that
she had not been invited to make one of the picnic
party ; and Elsie had never found her more unreasona-
ble a;id difficult to please ; and her incessant fault-
no ELSIE D1NSMORE.
finding and scolding were almost more than the little
girl could bear in addition to her own sad disappoint-
ment. But at last the morning, which had. seldom
seemed so long, was over, and Elsie dismissed from
the school-room for the day.
At dinner, instead of the usual large party, there
were only her father and the gentleman with whom
lie was transacting business, Miss Day, and herself.
The gentleman was not one of those who care to
notice children, but continued to discuss business and
politics with Mr. Dinsmore, without seeming to be in
the least aware of the presence of the little girl, who
sat in perfect silence, eating whatever her father saw
"fit to put upon her plate ; and Elsie was very glad in-
deed when at length Miss Day rose to leave the table,
.and her papa told her she might go too.
He called her back though, before she had gone
across the room, to say that he had intended to ride
with her that afternoon, but found he should not be
able to do so, and she must take Jim for a protector,
.as he did not wish her either to miss her ride or to
go entirely alone.
He spoke very kindly ; Elsie thought with re-
morse of the rebellious feelings of the morning, and,
had she been alone with her father, would certainly
have confessed them, expressing her sorrow and ask-
ing forgiveness ; but she could not do so before a
third person, more especially a stranger ; and merely
saying, " Yes, papa, I will," she turned away and
left the room. Jim was bringing up her horse as she
ELSIE DINSMORE. in
passed the open door, and she hastened up-stairs to
prepare for her ride.
" mammy !" she suddenly exclaimed, as Chloe
was tying on her hat, " is Pomp going to the city
to-day?"
" Yes, darlin', he gwine start directly,' 1 said
Chloe, arranging her nursling's curls to better ad-
vantage, and finishing her work with a fond caress.
" Oh ! then, mammy, take some money out of my
purse, and tell him to buy me a pound of the very
nicest candy he can find," said the little girl, eagerly.
" I haven't had any for a long time, and I feel hun-
gry for it to-day. "What they had bought for the
picnic looked so good, but you know I didn't get
anv of it.'
*/
The picnic party returned just before tea-time, and
Lucy Carrington rushed into Elsie's room eager to
tell her what a delightful day they had had. She
gave a very glowing account of their sports and enter-
tainment, interrupting herself every now and then to-
lament over Elsie's absence, assuring her again and
again that it had been the only drawback upon her own
pleasure, and that she thought that Elsie's papa was-
very unkind indeed to refuse her permission to go.
As Elsie listened the morning's feelings of vexa-
tion and disappointment returned in full force ; and
thouo-h she said nothing she allowed her friend to
O O 7
accuse her father of cruelty and injustice without
offering any remonstrance.
In the midst of their talk the tea-bell rang, and
H2 ELSIE DINSMORE.
they hurried down to take their places at the table,
where Lucy went on with her narrative, though in a
rather subdued tone, Elsie now and then asking a
question, until Mr. Dinsmore turned to his daughter,
saying, in his stern way, " Be quiet, Elsie ; you are
talking entirely too much for a child of your age ;
don't let me hear you speak again until you have left
the table."
Elsie's face flushed, and her eyes fell, under the
rebuke ; and during the rest of the meal not a sound
o
-escaped her lips.
" Come, Elsie, let us go into the garden and finish
-our talk," said Lucy, putting her arm affectionately
around her friend's waist as they left the table ;
"" your papa can't hear us there, and we'll have a
.good time.'
" Papa only stopped us because we were talking
too much at the table," said Elsie, apologetically ;
" I'm sure he is willing you should tell me all about
what a nice time you all had. But, Lucy," she added,
lowering her voice, " please don't say again that you
think papa was unkind to keep me at home to
day. I'm sure he knows best, and I ought not to
have listened to a word of that kind about him.' :
" Oh ! well, nevermind, I won't talk so any more,"
said Lucy good-naturedly, as they skipped down the
walk together ; " but I do think he's cross, and I
wish you were my sister, that you might have my
kind, good papa for yours too," she added, drawing
lier arm more closely about her friend's waist.
ELSIE DINSMORE. 1*3
" Thank you, Lucy," said Elsie, with a little sigh,
" I would like to be your sister, but indeed I would.
*
not like to give up my own dear papa, for I love him,
oh ! so much."
" Why, how funny, when he's so cross to you !''
exclaimed Lucy, laughing.
Elsie put her hand over her friend's mouth, anrl
Lucy pushed it away, saying, " Excuse me ; I for-
got ; but I'll try not to say it again.'
While the little girls were enjoying their talk in?
the garden, a servant with a small bundle in her hand'
came out on the veranda, where Mr. Horace Dins-
more was sitting smoking a cigar, and, casting an
inquiring glance around, asked if he knew where
Miss Elsie was ?
" What do von. want with her ?" he asked.
V
11 Only to give her dis bundle, massa, dat Pomp
jus brought from de city.'
11 Give it to me,' 1 he said, extending his hand to*
receive it.
A few moments afterward Elsie and her friend re-
turned to the house, and meeting Pomp, she asked
him if he had brought her candv.
o /
He replied that he had got some that was very
nice indeed, and he thought that Fanny had carried
it to her ; and seeing Fanny near, he called to her
to know what she had done with it.
" Why, Pomp, Missa Horace he told me to give
it to him," said the girl.
Elsie turned away with a very disappointed look.
H4 ELSIE DIN SHORE.
' ' You'll go and ask him for it, won't you !" asked
Lucy, who was anxious to enjoy a share of the candy
as well as to see Elsie gratified.
" No," said Elsie, sighing, " I had rather do with-
out it."
Lucy coaxed for a little while, but finding it im-
possible to persuade Elsie to approach her father on
the subject, finally volunteered to do the errand her-
self.
Elsie readily consented, and Lucy, trembling a little
in spite of her boast that she was not afraid of him,
walked out on to the veranda where Mr. Dinsmore
was still sitting, and putting on an air of great con-
fidence, said :
" Mr. Dinsmore, will you please to give me Elsie's
candy ? she wants it.'
" Did Elsie send you ?" he asked in a cold, grave
tone.
<( Yes, sir," replied Lucy, somewhat frightened.
" Then, if you please, Miss Lucy, you may tell
Elsie to come directly to me.'
Lucy ran back to her friend, and Elsie received the
message in some trepidation, but as no choice was
now left her, she went immediately to her father.
" Did you want me, papa ? n she asked timidly.
" Yes, Elsie ; I wish to know why you send another
person to me for what you want, instead of coming
yourself. It displeases me very much, and you may
rest assured that you will never get anything that
you ask for in that way.'
ELSIE DINSMOUE. 115
Elsie hung her head in silence.
" Are you going to answer me ?" he asked, in his.
severe tone. " Why did you send Lucy instead of
coming yourself ?"
" I was afraid, papa," she whispered, almost under
her breath.
" Afraid ! afraid of what ?" he asked, with increas-
ing displeasure.
" Of you, papa," she replied, in a tone so low that
he could scarcely catch the words, although he bent.
down his ear to receive her reply.
" If I were a drunken brute, in the habit of knock-
ing you about, beating and abusing you, there might
be some reason for your fear, Elsie," he said, coloring
with anger ; " but as it is, I see no excuse for it at all,
and I am both hurt and displeased by it.'
" I am very sorry, papa ; I won't do so again, ' ' she-
said, tremblingly.
There was a moment's pause, and then she asked in
a timid, hesitating way, u Papa, may I have my
candy, if you please ?"
" No, you may not, " he said decidedly ; ' ' and un-
derstand and remember that I positively forbid you.
either to buy or eat anything of the kind again with-
out my express permission."
Elsie's eyes filled, and she had a hard struggle t<>
keep down a rising sob as she turned away and went
slowly back to the place where she had left her
friend.
Have you got it ?" asked Lucy, eagerly.
"
1 1 6 ELSIE D INSHORE.
Elsie shook her head.
" What a sharne !" exclaimed Lucy, indignantly ;
4 ' he's just as cross as he can be. He's a tyrant, so
he is ! just a hateful old tyrant, and I wouldn't care
.a cent for him, if I were you, Elsie. I'm glad he is
not my father, so I am.'
" I'm afraid he doesn't love me much," sighed
Elsie in low, tearful tones, " for he hardly ever lets
me have anything, or go anywhere that I want to.''
" Well, never mind, Pll send and buy a good lot
to-morrow, and we'll have a regular feast," said Lucy,
soothingly, as she passed her arm around her
friend's waist and drew her down to a seat on the
portico step.
" Thank you, Lucy, you can buy for yourself if
you like, but not for me, for papa has forbidden me
to eat anything of the sort.''
" Oh ! of course we'll not let him know anything
about it," said Lucy.
But Elsie shook her head sadly, saying with a little
sigh, " No, Lucy, you are very kind, but I cannot
disobey papa, even if he should never know it, be-
cause that would be disobeying God, and He would
know it.'
" Dear me, how particular you are !" exclaimed
Lucy a little pettishly.
"Elsie," said Mr. Dinsmore, speaking from the
door, " what are you doing there ? Did I not forbid
you to be out in the evening air ?'"'
" I did not know you meant the doorstep, papa.
ELSIE DINSMORE. 117
I thought I was only not to go down into the gar-
den," replied the little girl, rising to go in.
" I see you intend to make as near an approach to
disobedience as you dare," said her father. " Go
immediately to your room, and tell mammy to put
you to bed.'
Elsie silently obeyed, and Lucy, casting an indig-
nant glance at Mr. Dinsmore, was about to follow
lier, when he said, " I wish her to go alone, if you
please, Miss Lucy ;" and with a frown and a pout the
little girl walked into the drawing-room and seated
herself on the sofa beside her mamma.
Mr. Dinsmore walked out on to the portico, and
stood there watching the moon which was just rising
over the treetops.
" Horace, " said Arthur, emerging from the shadow
of a tree nearby and approaching his brother, " Elsie
thinks you're a tyrant. She says you never let her
liave anything, or go anywhere, and you're always
punishing her. She and Lucy have had a fine time
out here talking over your bad treatment of her, and
planning to have some candy in spite of you.'
" Arthur, I do not believe that Elsie would delib-
erately plan to disobey me ; and whatever faults she
may have, I am very sure she is above the meanness
of telling tales," replied Mr. Dinsmore, in a tone of
severity, as he turned and went into the house, while
Arthur, looking sadly crestfallen, crept away out of
sight.
"When Elsie reached her room, she found that
u8 ELSIE D INSHORE.
Chloe was not there ; for, not expecting that her ser-
vices would be required at so early an hour, she had
gone down to the kitchen to have a little chat with her
fellow-servants. Elsie rang for her, and then walking-
to the window, stood looking down into the garden-
in an attitude of thoughtfulness and dejection. She
was mentally taking a review of the manner in which,
she had spent the day, as was her custom before re-
tiring. The retrospect had seldom been so painful to
the little girl. She had a very tender conscience, and
it told her now that she had more than once during
the day indulged in wrong feelings toward her father ;
that she had also allowed another to speak disrespect-
fully of him, giving by her silence a tacit approval
of the sentiments uttered, and, more than that, had
spoken complainingly of him herself.
" Oh !" she murmured half aloud as she covered
her face with her hands, and the tears trickled
through her fingers, ' ' how soon I have forgotten the
lesson papa taught me this morning, and my promise
to trust him without knowing his reasons. I don't
deserve that he should love me or be kind and indul-
gent, when I am so rebellious."
" What's de matter, darlin' ?" asked Chloe's voice
in pitiful tones, as she took her nursling in her arm&
and laid her little head against her bosom, passing her
hand caressingly over the soft bright curls ; ' ' your
ole mammy can't bear to see her pet cryin' like dat."
" O mammy, mammy ! I've been such a wicked
girl to-day ! Oh ! I'm afraid I shall never be good,,
ELSIE DIN SHORE. 119
never be like Jesus. I'm afraid He is angry with me,
for I have disobeyed Him to-day," sobbed the child.
u Darlin'," said Chloe, earnestly, " didn't you read
to your ole mammy dis very morning dese bressed
words : ' If any man sin, we have an advocate with the
Father, Jesus Christ the righteous,' an' de other : ' If
O 7
we confess our sins, He is faithful and just to forgive
s our sins.' Go to de dear, bressed Lord Jesus, dar-
lin', an' ax Him to forgive you, an' I knows He will."
" Yes, He will," replied the little girl, raising her
head and dashing away her tears, " He will forgive
my sins, and take away my wicked heart, and give
me right thoughts and feelings. How glad I am you
remembered those sweet texts, you dear old mammy,"
she added, twining her arms lovingly around her
nurse's neck. And then she delivered her papa's
message, and Chloe began at once to prepare her for
t>ed.
Elsie's tears had ceased'to flow, but they were still
trembling in her eyes, and the little face wore a very
sad and troubled expression as she stood patiently
passive in her nurse's hands. Chloe had soon finished,
her labors, and then the little girl opened her B^_/ie,
and, as usual, read a few verses aloud, though her
voice trembled, and once or twice a tear fell on the
page ; then closing the book she stole a\\ay to the
side of the bed and knelt down.
She was a good while on her knees, and several
times, as the sound of a low sob fell upon Chloe's ear,
she sighed and murmured to herself, " Poor darlin' !
120 ELSIE DINSMORE.
dear, bressed lamb, }our ole mammy don't like to
hear dat."
Then as the child rose from her kneeling posture
she went to her, and taking her in her arms, folded
her in a fond embrace, calling her by the most tender
and endearing epithets, and telling that her old mam-
my loved her better than life better than anything
in the wide world.
Elsie flung her arms around her nurse's neck, and
laid her head upon her bosom, saying, " Yes, my
dear old mammy, I know you love me, and I love
you too. But put me in bed now, or papa will be
displeased."
" What makes you so onrestless, darlin' ?' : asked
Chloe, half an hour afterward ; " can't you go to
sleep no how ?"
" mammy ! if I could only see papa just for
one moment to tell him something. Do you think
he would come to me ?" sighed the little girl..
" Please, mammy, go down and see if he is busy.
Don't say a word if he is ; but if not, ask him to-
come to me for just one minute."
Chloe left the room immediately, but returned the
next moment, saying, " I jes looked into de parlor,
darlin', an' Mass Horace he mighty busy playin' chess
wid Miss Lucy's mamma, an' I didn't say nuffin' to-
him. Jes you go sleep, my pet, an' tell Mass Hor-
ace all 'bout it in de mornin'.'
Elsie sighed deeply, and turning over on her pil-
low, cried herself to sleep.
ELSIE DINSMORE. 121
Chloe was just putting the finishing touches to the
Mttle girl's dress the next morning, when Lucy Car-
rington rapped at the door.
" Good morning, Elsie," she said ; "I was in a
:hurry to come to you, because it is my last day, you
know. "Wasn't it too bad of your father to send you
off to bed so early last night ?"
" Xo, Lucy ; papa has a right to send me to bed
whenever he pleases ; and besides, I was naughty and
deserved to be punished ; and it was not much more
than half an hour earlier than my usual bedtime."
" You naughty !" exclaimed Lucy, opening her
*eyes very wide. " Mamma often says she wishes I
was half as good.'
Elsie sighed, but made no answer. Her thoughts
seemed far away. She was thinking of what she had
been so anxious, the night before, to say to her father,
.and trying to gain courage to do it this morning.
" If I could only get close to him when nobody was
by, and he would look and speak kindly to me, I
could do it then," she murmured to herself.
' ' Come, Aunt Chloe, aren't you done ? I want to
have a run in the garden before breakfast," said
Lucy, somewhat impatiently, as Chloe tied and un-
tied Elsie's sash several times.
" Well, Miss Lucy, I'se done now," she answered,
passing her hand once more over her nursling's curls ;
"" but Mass Horace he mighty pertickler 'bout Miss
Elsie."
" Yes," said Elsie, ' ' papa wants me always to look
122 ELSIE DIN SHORE.
very nice and neat ; and when I go down in tlir
morning lie just gives me one glance from head to
foot, and if anything is wromr he is sure to see it ami
*/ o
send me back immediately to have it made right.
Now, mammy, please give me my hat and let us go."
" You'sgot plenty ob time, chillens ; de bell won't
go for to ring dis hour," remarked the old nurse,
tying on Elsie's hat.
" My chile looks sweet an' fresh as a moss rosebud
dis morninV she added, talking to herself, as she-
watched the two little girls tripping down-stairs hand
in hand.
They skipped up and down the avenue several
times, and ran all round the garden before it wa>;
time to go in. Then Elsie went up to Chloe to have
her hair made smooth again. She was just descending-
for the second time to the hall, where she had left
Lucy, when they saw a carriage drive up to the front
door.
" There's papa !' ! cried Lucy, joyfully, as it
stopped and a gentleman sprang out and came up the
steps into the portico ; and in an instant she was in
his arms, receiving such kisses and caresses as Elsie
O
had vainly longed for all her life.
Lucy had several brothers, but was an only
daughter, and a very great pet, especially with her
father.
Elsie watched them with a wistful look and a
strange aching at her heart.
But presently Mr. Carrington set Lucy down, and
turn ins: to her, ijave her a shake of the hand, and
O ' O
ELSIE DINSMORE. 123
then a kiss, saying, ' ' How do you do this morning,
my dear ? I'm afraid you are hardly glad to see me,
as I come to take Lucy away, for I suppose you have
been having fine times together.''
o o
u Yes, sir, indeed we have ; and I hope you will
let her come again/'
" Oh ! yes, certainly ; but the visits must not be
all on one side. I shall talk to your papa about it,
and perhaps persuade him to let us take you along
this afternoon to spend a week at Ashlands. "
11 Oh ! how delightful !" cried Lucy, clapping her
hands. " Elsie, do 'you think he will let you go ?"
" I don't know, I'm afraid not," replied the little
girl, doubtfully.
" You must coax him, as I do my papa," said
Lucy.
But at this Elsie only shook her head, and just
then the breakfast-bell rang.
Mr. Dinsmore was already in the breakfast-room,
and Elsie, going up to him, said, " Good morning,
papa."
" Good morning, Elsie, ' : ' he replied ; but his tone
was so cold that even if no one else had been by, she
could not have said another word.
He had not intended to be influenced by the infor-
mation Arthur had so maliciously given him the
night before ; yet unconsciously he was, and his man-
ner to his little daughter was many degrees colder
than it had been for some time.
After breakfast Lucy reminded Elsie of a promise
she had made to show her some beautiful shells which
124 ELSIE DINSMORE.
her father had collected in his travels, and Elsie led
the way to the cabinet, a small room opening into
the library, and filled with curiosities.
They had gone in alone, but were soon followed
by Arthur, Walter, and Enna.
Almost everything in the room belonged to Mr.
Horace Dinsmore ; and Elsie, knowing that many of
the articles were rare and costly, and that he was
very careful of them, begged Enna and the boys to
go out, lest they should accidentally do some mis-
chief.
" I won't, " replied Arthur. *" I've just as good
a right to be here as you."
As he spoke he gave her a push, which almost
knocked her over, and in catching at a table to save
herself from falling, she threw down a beautiful vase
of rare old china, which Mr. Dinsmore prized very
highly. It fell with a loud crash, and lay scattered
in fragments at their feet.
"There, see what you've done !' 1 exclaimed Ar-
thur, as the little group stood aghast at the mischief.
It happened that Mr. Dinsmore was just then in
the library, and the noise soon brought him upon the
scene of action.
" Who did this ?" he asked, in a wrathful tone,
looking from one to the other.
" Elsie," said Arthur ; " she threw it down and
broke it."
" Troublesome, careless child ! I would not have
taken a hundred dollars for that vase," he exclaimed,.
ELSIE DINSMORE. 125
" Go to your room ! go this instant, and stay there
until I send for you ; and remember, if you ever
come in here again without permission I shall pun-
ish you. '
He opened the door as he spoke, and Elsie flew
across the hall, up the stairs, and into her own room,
without once pausing or looking back.
" Now go out, every one of you, and don't come
in here again ; this is no place for children," said
Mr. Dinsmore, turning the others into the hall, and
shutting and locking the door upon them.
" You ought to be ashamed, Arthur Dinsmore, ' :
exclaimed Lucy indignantly ; " it was all your own
fault, and Elsie was not to blame at all, and you
know it."
" I didn't touch the old vase, and I'm not going
to take the blame of it either, I can tell you, miss,"
replied Arthur, moving off, followed by Walter and
Enna, while Lucy walked to ths other end of the hall^
and stood looking out of the window, debating in
her own mind whether she had sufficient courage to
face Mr. Dinsmore, and make him understand where
the blame of the accident ought to lie.
At length she seemed to have solved the question ;
for turning about and moving noiselessly down the
passage to the library door, she gave a timid little
rap, which was immediately answered by Mr. Dins-
more's voice saying, " Come in.' :
*/ <..-> '
Lucy opened the door and walked in, closing it
after her.
126 ELSIE DINSMORE.
Mr. Dinsmore sat at a table writing, and he looked
up with an expression of mingled surprise and impa-
tience.
' What do you want, Miss Lucy ?' ; he said ;
" speak quickly, for I am very busy.'
" I just wanted to tell you, sir," replied Lucy,
speaking up quite boldly, " that Elsie was not at all
to blame about the vase ; for it was Arthur who
pushed her and made her fall against the table, and
that was the way the vase came to fall and break.'
" What made him push her ?' ; he asked.
" Just because Elsie asked him, and Walter, and
Enna to go out, for fear they might do some mis-
chief."
Mr. Dinsmore 's pen was suspended over the paper
for a moment, while he sat thinking with a somewhat
clouded brow ; but presently turning to the little girl,
he said quite pleasantly, " Very well, Miss Lucy, I
am much obliged to you for your information, for I
should be very sorry to punish Elsie unjustly. And
now will you do me the favor to go to her and tell
her that her papa says she need not stay in her room
any longer ?' :
" Yes, sir, I will," replied Lucy, her face spark-
lino* with delight as she hurried off with great alacrity
to do his bidding.
She found Elsie in her room crying violently, and
throwing her arms around her neck, she delivered
Mr. Dinsmore's message, concluding with, " So now,
Elsie, you see you needn't cry, nor feel sorry any
ELSIE DIXSMORE. 127
more ; but just dry your eyes and let us go down
into the garden and have a good time.' ;
Elsie was very thankful to Lucy, and very glad
that her papa now knew that she was not to blame ;
but she was still sorry for his loss, and his words had
wounded her too deeply to be immediately forgotten ;
indeed it was some time before the sore spot they
had made in her heart was entirely healed. B-ut she
tried to forget it all and enter heartily into the sports
proposed by Lucy.
The Carringtons were not to leave until the after-
noon, and the little girls spent nearly the whole morn-
ing in the garden, coming into the drawing-room a
few moments before the dinner-bell rang.
Mrs. Carrington sat on a sofa engaged with some
fancv work, while Herbert, who had not felt well
J
enough to join the other children, had stretched him-
self out beside her, putting his head in her lap.
Mr. Carrington and Mr. Horace Dinsmore were
conversing; near by.
O */
Lucy ran up to her papa and seated herself upon
his knee with her arm around his neck ; while Elsie
stopped a moment to speak to Herbert, and then
timidly approaching her father, with her eyes upon
the floor, said in a low, half-frightened tone, that
reached no ear but his, " I am very sorry about the
vase, papa.'
He took her hand, and drawing her close to him,
pushed back the hair from her forehead with his
other hand, and bending down to her, said almost in
128 ELSIE DINSMORE.
a whisper, " Never mind, daughter, we will forget
all about it. I am sorry I spoke so harshly to
you, since Lucy tells me you were not so much to
blame."
Elsie's face flushed with pleasure, and sLo looked
up gratefully ; but before she had time to reply, Mrs.
Carrington said, " Elsie, we want to take you home
with us to spend a week ; will you go ?''
" I should like to, very much, indeed, ma'am, if
papa will let me," replied the little girl, looking wist-
fully up into his face.
" Well, Mr. Dinsmore, what do you say ? I hope
you can have no objection," said Mrs. Carrington,
looking inquiringly at him ; while her husband add-
ed, " Oh ! yes, Dinsmore, you must let her go by
all means ; you can certainly spare her for a week,
and it need be no interruption to her lessons, as she
can share with Lucy in the instructions of our gov-
erness, who is really a superior teacher. 7
Mr. Dinsmore was looking very grave, and Elsie
knew from the expression of his countenance what
his answer would be, before he spoke. He had
noticed the indignant glance Lucy had once or twice
bestowed upon him, and remembering Arthur's report
of the conversation between the two little girls the
nio;ht before, had decided in his own mind that the
O
less Elsie saw of Lucy the better.
* ' I thank you both for your kind attention to my
little girl," he replied courteously, " but while fully
appreciating your kindness in extending the invita-
ELSIE D1NSMORE. 129
tion, I must beg leave to decline it, as I am satisfied
that home is the best place for her at present.'
" Ah ! no, I suppose we ought hardly to have ex-
pected you to spare her so soon after your return,"
said Mrs. Carrington ; " but really, I am very sorry
to be refused, for Elsie is such a good child that I am
always delighted to have Lucy and Herbert with her."
" Perhaps you think better of her than she de-
serves, Mrs. Carrington. I find that Elsie is some-
O
limes naughty and in need of correction, as well as
other children, and therefore I think it best to keep
her as much as possible under my own eye," replied
Mr. Dinsmore, looking very gravely at his little
daughter as he spoke.
Elsie's face flushed painfully, and she had hard
work to keep from bursting into tears. It was a
great relief to her that just at that moment the din-
ner-bell rang, and there was a general movement in
the direction of the dining-room. Her look was
O
touchingly humble as her father led her in and seat-
ed her at the table.
She was thinking, " Papa says I am naughty some-
times, but oh ! how very naughty he would think me
if he knew all the wicked feelings I had yesterday. ' :
As soon as they had risen from the table, Mrs. Car-
rington bade Lucy go up to her maid to have her bon-
net put on, as the carriage was already at the door.
Elsie would have gone with her, but her father
had taken her hand again, and he held it fast.
She looked up inquiringly into his face.
130 ELSIE DINSMORE.
" Stay here,' ! he said. ll Lucy will be down
ao;am in a moment."
O
And Elsie stood quietly at his side until Lucy re-
turned.
But even then her father did not relinquish his
hold of her hand, and all the talking the little girls
could do must be done close at his side.
Yet, as he was engaged in earnest conversation
with Mr. Carrington, and did not seem to be listen-
ing to them, Lucy ventured to whisper to Elsie,
" I think it's real mean of him ; he might let you
go."
" Xo," replied Elsie, in the same low tone, " I'm
sure papa knows best ; and besides, I have been
naughty, and don't deserve to go, though I should
like to, dearly."
" Well, good-bye," said Lucy, giving her a kiss.
It was not until Mr. Carrington's carriage was fairly
on its way down the avenue, that Mr. Dinsmore
dropped his little girl's hand ; and then he said, " I
want you in the library, Elsie ; come to me in half
an hour.' 1
11 Yes, papa, I will," she replied, looking a little
frightened.
" You need not "be afraid, r> he said, in a tone of
displeasure ; " I am not going to hurt you."
Elsie blushed and huno- her head, but made no re-
O
ply, and he turned away and left her. She could not
help wondering what he wanted with her, and though
she tried not to feel afraid, it was impossible to keep
ELSIE DIXSMORE. 131
from trembling a little as she knocked at the library-
door.
Her father's voice said, " Come in," and entering,
she found him alone, seated at a table covered with
papers and writing materials, while beside the ac-
count book in which he was writing lay a pile of
money, in bank notes, and gold and silver.
" Here, Elsie,' 1 he said, laying down his pen, " I
want to give you your month's allowance. Your
grandfather has paid it to you heretofore, but of
course, now that I am at home, I attend to everything
that concerns you. You have been receiving eight
dollars I shall give you ten ; >; and he counted out
the money and laid it before her as he spoke ; " but
I shall require a strict account of all that you spend.
I want you to learn to keep accounts, for if you live,
you will some day have a great deal of money to take
care of ; and here is a blank book that I have pre-
pared, so that you can do so very easily. Every time
that you lay out or give away any money, you must
set it down here as soon as you come home ; be par-
ticular about that, lest you should forget something,
because you must bring your book to me at the end
of every month, and let me see how much you have
spent, and what is the balance in hand ; and if you
are not able to make it come out square, and tell me
what you have done with every penny, you will lose
either the whole or a part of your allowance for the
next month, according to the extent of your delin-
quency. Do you understand ?"
132 ELSIE DIN SNORE.
"Yes, sir."
11 Very well. Let me see now how much you can
remember of your last month's expenditure. Take
the book and set down everything you can think
of."
Elsie had a good memory, and was able to remem-
ber how she had spent almost ev^ry cent during the
time specified ; and she set down one item after an-
other, and then added up the column without any
mistake.
' ' That was very well done, " said her father approv-
ingly. And then running over the items half aloud,
o / o
" Candy, half a dollar ; remember, Elsie, there is to
be no more money disposed of in that way ; not as
a matter of economy, by any means, but because I
consider it very injurious. I am very anxious that
you should grow up strong and healthy. I would not
for anything have you a miserable dyspeptic.'
Then suddenly closing the book and handing it to
her, he said inquiringly, " You were very anxious to
go to Ashlands ?"
" I would have liked to go, papa, if you had been
willing," she replied meekly.
" I am afraid Lucy is not a suitable companion for
you, Elsie. I think she puts bad notions into your
head," he said very gravely.
Elsie flushed and trembled, and was just opening
her lips to make her confession, when the door open-
ed and her grandfather entered. She could not
speak before him, and so remained silent.
ELSIE DIN SHORE. 133
" Does she not sometimes say naughty things to
you ?" asked her father, speaking so low that her
grandfather could not have heard.
" Yes, sir," replied the little girl, almost under
her breath.
" I thought so," said he, " and therefore I shall
keep you apart as entirely as possible ; and I hope
there will be no murmuring on your part. ' :
" No, papa, you know best," she answered, very
humbly.
Then putting the money into her hands, he dis-
missed her. AVhen she had gone out he sat for a
moment in deep thought. Elsie's list of articles
bought with her last month's allowance consisted
.almost entirely of gifts for others, generally the ser-
vants. There were some beads and sewing-silk for
making a purse, and a few drawing materials ; but
with the exception of the candy, she had bought
nothino- else for herself. This was what her father
c5
was thinking of.
" She is a dear, unselfish, generous little thing,"
he said to himself. " However, I may be mistaken ;
I must not allow myself to judge from only one month.
She seems submissive too," he had overheard what
passed between her and Lucy at parting " but per-
haps that was for effect ; she probably suspected I
could hear her and she thinks me a tyrant, and
obeys from fear, not love."
This thought drove away all the tender feeling
that had been creeping into his heart ; and when he
134 ELSIE DINSMOEE.
next met his little daughter, his manner was as cold
and distant as ever, and Elsie found it impossible to
approach him with sufficient freedom to tell him
what was in her heart.
Cbaptw /iftb.
"Man is unjust, but God is just ; and finally justice
Triumphs."
LONGFELLOW'S Evangeline.
""How disappointment tracks
The steps of hope !"
Miss LANDON.
ONE afternoon, the next week after the Carring-
tons had left, the younger members of the family,
Arthur, Elsie, Walter, and Enna, were setting out to
take a walk, when Elsie, seeing a gold chain depend-
ing from the pocket of Arthur's jacket, exclaimed :
' ' O Arthur ! how could you take grandpa's watch ?
Do put it away, for you will be almost sure to in-
jure it."
" Hold your tongue, Elsie ; I'll do as I please, ' :
was the polite rejoinder.
" But, Arthur, you know that grandpa would
never let you take it. I have often heard him say
that it was very valuable, for it was seldom that so
good a one could be had at any price ; and I know
that he paid a great deal for it. '
" Well, if he prizes it so, he needn't have left it
lying on his table ; and so I'll just teach him a les-
son ; it's about time he learnt to be careful."
136 ELSIE D INSHORE.
11 Arthur ! do put it away," pleaded Elsie ;
" if anything should happen to it, what will grandpa
say ? I know he will be very angry, and ask us al)
w r ho did it ; and you know I cannot tell a lie, and if
he asks me if it was you, I cannot say no.'
/ /
" Yes, I'll trust you for telling tales, ' ; replied
Arthur, sneeringly ; " but if you do, I'll pay you
for it."
He ran down the avenue as he spoke, Walter and
Enna following, and Elsie slowly bringing up the
rear, looking the picture of distress, for she knew not
what to do, seeing that Arthur w^ould not listen to
her remonstrances, and, as often happened, all the
older members of the family were out, and thus
there was no authority that could be appealed to in
time to prevent the mischief which she had every
reason to fear w r ould be done. Once she thought of
turning back, that she might escape the necessity of
being a witness in the case ; but, remembering that
her father told her she must walk with the others
that afternoon, and also that, as she had already seen
the watch in Arthur's possession, her testimony
would be sufficient to convict him even if she saw no
more, she gave up the idea, and hurried on w r ith the
faint hope that she might be able to induce Arthur to
refrain from indulging in such sports as would be
likely to endanger the watch ; or else to give it into
her charge. At any other time she would have
trembled at the thought of touching it ; but now she
felt so sure it would be safer with her than with
ELSIE DINSMOEE. 137
him, that she would gladly have taken the respon-
sibility.
tf
The walk was far from being a pleasure that after-
noon ; the boys ran so fast that it quite put her out
of breath to keep up with them ; and then every little
while Arthur would cut some caper that made her
tremble for the watch ; answering; her entreaties that
' O
he would either give it into her care or walk along
quietly, with sneers and taunts, and declarations of
his determination to do just exactly as he pleased,
and not be ruled bv her.
V
But at length, while he was in the act of climbing
a tree, the watch dropped from his pocket and fell
to the ground, striking with considerable force.
Elsie uttered a scream, and Arthur, now thoroughly
frightened himself, jumped down and picked it up.
The crystal was broken, the back dented, and how
much the works were injured they could not tell ;
but it had ceased to run.
" Arthur ! see what youVe done !" exclaimed
Walter.
What will papa say ?" said Enna ; while Elsie
stood pale and trembling, not speaking a word.
"You hush !" exclaimed Arthur fiercely. "I'll
tell you what, if any of you dare to tell of me, I'll
make you sorry for it to the last day of your life.
*/ / * /
Do you hear ?"
V
The question was addressed to Elsie in a tone of
defiance.
"Arthur," said she, "grandpa will know that
138 ELSIE DINSMORE.
somebody did it, and surely you would not wish an
innocent person to be punished for your fault.-
" I don't care who gets punished, so that papa does
not find out that I did it," said he furiously ; " and
if you dare to tell of me, I'll pay you for it.'
" I shall say nothing, unless it becomes necessary
to save the innocent, or I am forced to speak ; but
in that case I shall tell the truth," replied Elsie,
firmly.
Arthur doubled up his fist, and made a plunge at
her as if he meant to knock her down ; but Elsie
sprang behind the tree, and then ran so fleetly toward
the house that he was not able to overtake her until
his passion had had time to cool.
When they reached the house, Arthur replaced the
watch on his father's table, whence he had taken it,
and then they all awaited his return with what com*'
age they might.
" I say, Wally, " said Arthur, drawing his little-
brother aside and speaking in a low tone, having first
sent a cautious glance around to assure himself that
no one else was within hearing, " I say, what would
you give me for that new riding whip of mine ?''
" Arthur ! anything I've got," exclaimed the
little boy eagerly. " But you wouldn't give it up, I
know, and you're only trying to tease me."
" Xo, indeed, Wai ; I mean to give it to you if
you'll only be a good fellow and do as I tell you.' :
' c What ?" he asked, with intense interest.
" Tei!! papa that Jim broke the watch.
'
ELSIE DIN SHORE. 139
" But he didn't" replied the child, opening his
eyes wide with astonishment.
11 Well, what of that, you little goose ?" exclaimed
Arthur impatiently ; " papa doesn't know that."
" But Jim will get punished," said Walter ; " and
I don't want to tell such a big story either."
" Very well, sir, then you'll not get the whip ;
and, besides, if you don't do as I wish, I'm certain
you'll see a ghost one of these nights ; for there's
one comes to see me sometimes, and I'll send him
right off to you."
" Oh ! don't, Arthur, don't ; I'd die of fright,"
cried the little boy, who was very timid, glancing
nervously around, as if he expected the ghost to ap-
pear immediately.
" I tell you I will, though, if you don't do as I
say ; he'll come this very night and carry you off,
and never bring you back."
" Arthur ! don't let him come, and I'll say any-
thing you want me to," cried the little fellow in great
terror.
" That's a good boy ; I knew you would," said
Arthur, smiling triumphantly. And turning away
from Walter, he next sought out Enna, and tried his
threats and persuasions upon her with even better
success.
Elsie had gone directly to her own room, where
she sat trembling every time a footstep approached
her door, lest it should be a messenger from her
grandfather. No one came, however, and at last the
140 ELSIE DINSMORE.
tea-bell rang, and on going down she found to her
relief that her grandfather and his wife had not yet
returned.
" You look pale, Elsie," said her father, giving her
a scrutinizing glance as she took her seat by his side.
" Are you well ?"
" Yes, papa, quite well," she replied.
He looked at her again a little anxiously, but said
no more ; and as soon as the meal was concluded,
Elsie hastened away to her own room again.
It was still early in the evening when Mr. and Mrs.
Dinsmore returned for once, bringing no company
with them ; and he had not been many minutes in
the house ere he took up his watch, and of course
instantly discovered the injury it had sustained.
His suspicions at once fell upon Arthur, whose
character for mischief was well established ; and burn-
ing with rage, watch in hand, he repaired to the
drawing-room, which he entered, asking, in tones-
tremulous with passion, * * Where is Arthur ? Young
rascal ! this is some of his work," he added, holding
up the injured article.
" My dear, how can you say so ? have you any
proof ?" asked his wife, deprecatingly adding in her
softest tones, ' ' my poor boy seems to get the blame
of everything that goes wrong."
" He gets no more than he deserves," replied her
husband angrily. " Arthur ! Arthur, I say, where
are you ?"
"He is in the garden, sir, I think. I saw him
ELSIE DINSMORE. 14*
walking in the shrubbery a moment since," said Mr*
Horace Dinsmore.
The father instantly despatched a servant to bring 1
him in ; sending a second in search of the overseer,
while a third was ordered to assemble all the house-
servants. " I will sift this matter to the bottom, and
child or servant, the guilty one shall suffer for it,''
exclaimed the old gentleman, pacing angrily up and
down the room. " Arthur," said he sternly, as the
boy made his appearance, looking somewhat pale and
alarmed, " how dared you meddle with my watch ?' :
" I didn't, sir ; I never touched it,' 1 he replied
boldly, yet avoiding his father's eye as he uttered the
deliberate falsehood.
" There, my dear, I told you so," exclaimed his
mother, triumphantly.
" I don't believe you," said his father ; " and if
you are guilty, as I strongly suspect, you had better
confess it at once, before I find it out in some other
way."
' ' I didn't do it, sir. It was Jim, and I can prove
it by Walter and Enna ; we all saw it fall from his-
pocket when he was up in a tree ; and he cried like
anything when he found it was broken, and said he
didn't mean to do it any harm ; he was only going to
wear it a little while, and then put it back all safe ;
but now master would be dreadfully angry, and have
him flogged.'
" That I will, if it is true," exclaimed the old gen-
tleman, passionately ; " he shall be well whipped and
142 ELSIE DINSMORE.
sent out to work on the plantation. I'll keep no such
meddlers about my house. r
He looked at Enna. " What do you know of
this ?" he asked.
" It is true, papa, I saw him do it," she replied
with a slight blush, and sending an uneasy glance
around the room.
" Did you see it, too, Walter ?" asked his father.
" Yes, sir," replied the little fellow, in a low, re-
luctant tone ; ' ' but please, papa, don't punish him.
I'm sure he didn't mean to break it."
" Hold your tongue ! he shall be punished as he de-
serves," cried the old gentleman, furiously. " Here,
sir," turning to the overseer, and pointing to Jim,
* ' take the fellow out, and give him such a flogging as
he will remember.' 1
Elsie was sitting in her own room, trying to learn
a lesson for the next day, but finding great difficulty
in fixing her thoughts upon it, when she was startled
by the sudden entrance of Aunt Chloe, who, with her
apron to her eyes, was sobbing violently.
" O mammy, mammy ! what's the matter? has
anything happened to you ?" inquired the little girl,
in a tone of great alarm, starting to her feet, and
dropping her book in her haste and fright.
" Why," sobbed Chloe, " Jim, he's been an' gone
an' broke ole masters watch, an' he's gwine be
whipped, an' ole Aunt Phoebe she's cryin' fit to break
her ole heart 'bout her boy, kase-
Elsie waited to hear no more, but darting out into
ELSIE DINSMORE. 143
the hall, and encountering her father on his way to
his room, she rushed up to him, pale and agitated,
and seizing his hand, looked up eagerly into his face r
exclaiming with a burst of tears and sobs, " papa,
papa ! don't, oh ! don't let them whip poor Jim.'
Mr. Dinsmore's countenance was very grave, al-
most distressed.
' ' I am sorry it is necessary, daughter, ' ' he said,
" but Jim has done very wrong, and deserves his
punishment, and I cannot interfere."
" Oh ! no, papa, he did not, indeed he did not
break the watch. I know he didn't, for I was by
and saw it all."
" Is it possible /" said he, in a tone of surprise ;
" then tell me who did do it. It could not have
been you, Elsie ?" and he looked searchingly into
her face.
" Oh ! no, papa, I would never have dared to touch
it. But please don't make me tell tales ; but I know
it wasn't Jim. Oh ! do stop them quickly, before
they begin to whip him.'
" Aunt Chloe," said Mr. Dinsmore, " go down to
my father and tell him it is my request that the pun-
ishment should be delayed a few moments until I
come down."
Then taking Elsie's hand, he led her into her room
again, and seating himself, drew her to his side, say-
ing, with grave decision, " Now, my daughter, if
you want to save Jim, it will be necessary for you to
tell all you know about this affair. '
144 ELSIE DINS MORE.
" I don't like to tell tales, papa," pleaded the little
girl ; " I think it so very mean. Is it not enough
for me to tell that I know Jim didn't do it ?"
" No, Elsie ; I have already said that it is quite
necessary for you to tell all you know. '
" papa ! don't make me ; I don't like to do
it," she urged, with tears in her eyes.
" I should be very much ashamed of you, and quite
unwilling to own you as my child, if under any other
circumstances you were willing to tell tales, ' : he
replied, in a tone of kindness that quite surprised
Elsie, who always trembled at the very thought of
opposing the slightest resistance to his will ; " but,"
he added, firmly, " it is the only way to save Jim ; if
you do not now make a full disclosure of all you
know, he will be severely whipped and sent away to
work on the plantation, which will distress his poor
old mother exceedingly. Elsie, I think you would
be doing very wickedly to allow an innocent person
to suffer when you can prevent it ; and besides, I will
add the weight of my authority, and say you must
do it at once ; and you well know, my daughter, that
there can be no question as to the duty of obedience
to your father.''
He paused, gazing earnestly down into the little
tearful, downcast, blushing face at his side.
" Have I not said enough to convince you of your
duty ?" he asked.
" Yes, papa ; 1 will tell you all about it," she
answered in a tremulous tone.
ELSIE DINSMORE, 145
Her story was told with evident reluctance, but in
/
a simple, straightforward manner, that attested its
truthfulness.
Mr. Dinsinore listened in silence, but with an ex-
pression of indignation on his handsome features ;
and the moment she had finished he rose, and ao;aii>
' O
taking her hand, led her from the room, saying, as
he did so :
11 You must repeat this story to your grandfather.' 1
" papa ! must I ? AVon't you tell him ? please
don't make me do it," she pleaded tremblingly, and
hanging back.
11 My daughter, you must, 1 ' he replied, so sternly
that she dared not make any further resistance, but
*/
quietly submitted to be led into her grandfather's
presence.
He was still in the drawing-room, walking about
in a disturbed and angry manner, and now and then
casting a suspicious glance upon Arthur, who sat pale
and trembling in a corner, looking the picture of guilt
and misery ; for he had heard Chloe deliver his
brother's message, and feared that exposure awaited
him.
AValter had stolen away to cry over Jim's punish-
ment, and wish that he had had the courage to tell
the truth at first ; but saving to himself that it was
/ O
too late now, his father wouldn't believe him, and he
would make it up to Jim somehow, even if it took
all his pocket-money for a month.
None of the other members of the family had left
146 ELSIE DINSMORE.
the room, and all wore an anxious, expectant look, as
Mr. Dinsrnore entered, leading Elsie by the hand.
u I have brought you another witness, sir, 1 ' he said,
" for it seems Elsie was present when the mischief
was done.'
" Ah !" exclaimed the old gentleman, " then I
may hope to get at the truth. Elsie, who broke my
watch ?"
.
" It was not Jim, grandpa, indeed, indeed it was
not ; but oh ! please don't make me say who it was,'*
replied the little girl, beseechingly.
" Elsie !" exclaimed her father, in a tone of stern
reproof.
" papa ! how can I ?" she sobbed, trembling
and clinging to his hand as she caught a threatening
look from Arthur.
" Come, come, child, you must tell us all you know
about it," said her grandfather, " or else I can't let
Jim off."
Mr. Dinsmore was looking down at his little girl,
and, following the direction of her glance, perceived
the cause of her terror. " Don't be afraid to speak
out and tell all you know, daughter, for I will protect
you," he said, pressing the little trembling hand in his,
and at the same time giving Arthur a meaning look,
" Yes, yes, speak out, child ; speak out at once ;
no one shall hurt you for telling the truth," exclaimed
her grandfather, impatiently.
" I will, grandpa," she said, trembling and weep-
ing, " but please don't be very angry with Arthur ;
ELSIE D'lN SHORE. 147
if you will forgive him this time, I think he will never
meddle any more ; and I am quite sure he did not
mean to break it."
" So it was you, after all, you young rascal ! I
knew it from the first !" cried the old gentleman,
striding across the room, seizing the boy by the
shoulder and shaking him roughly.
" But go on, Elsie, let us have the whole story," he
added, turning to her again, but still keeping his hold
upon Arthur. " You young dog !" he added, when
she had finished. " Yes, I' 11 forgive you when you've
had a good, sound flogging, and a week's solitary
confinement on bread and water, but not before.'
So saying, he was about to lead him from the room,,
when Elsie suddenly sprang forward, and with clasped
hands, and flushed, eager face, she pleaded earnestly,
beseechingly, " O grandpa ! don't whip him, don't
punish him ! He will never be so naughty again.
Will you, Arthur ? Let me pay for the watch,
grandpa ; and don't punish him. I would so like to
doit."
" It isn't the moneyed value of the watch I care
*/
for, child," replied the old gentleman, contemptu-
ously ; " and besides, where would you get so much
money ?"
11 I am rich, grandpa, am I not ? Didn't my mam
ma leave me a great deal of money ?" asked the little
girl, casting down her eyes and blushing painfully.
" No, Elsie," said her father very gravely, as he
took her hand and led her back to the side of his
148 ELSIE DINSMORE.
chair as;ain, " you have nothing but what I choose to
O V ^
give you, until you come of age, which will not be
for a great many years yet. r
" But you will give me the money to pay for the
watch, papa, won't you ?" she asked, pleadingly.
" No, I certainly shall not, for I think Arthur
should be left to suffer the penalty of his own mis-
deeds," he replied in a very decided tone ; " and, be-
sides, ' ' he added, ' ' your grandfather has already told
you that it is not the pecuniary loss he cares for. '
' ' Xo ; but I will teach this young rascal to let my
property alone, " said the elder gentleman with almost
fierce determination, as he tightened his grasp upon
the boy's arm and dragged him from the room.
Arthur cast a look of hatred and defiance at Elsie
as he went out, that made her grow pale with fear
and tremble so that she could scarcely stand.
/
Her father saw both the look and its effect, and
drawing the little trembler closer to him, he put his
.arm around her, and stroking her hair, said in a low,
soothing tone : " Don't be frightened, daughter ; I
will protect you.'
She answered him with a grateful look and a long
sigh of relief, and he was just about to take her on
his knee when visitors were announced, and, changing
his mind, he dismissed her to her room, and she saw
no more of him that evening.
" Oh ! if they only hadn't come just now, " thought
the sorely disappointed child, as she went out with
slow, reluctant steps. " I'm sure they wouldn't, if
ELSIE DINSMORE. 149
they had only known. I'm sure, quite sure papa was
going to take me on his knee, and they prevented him.
Oh ! will he ever think of doing it again ? Dear,
dear papa, if you could only know how I long to sit
there !" But Mrs. Dinsmore, who had hastily re-
tired on the exit of Arthur and his father from the
drawing-room, was now sailing majestically down the
hall, on her return thither ; and Elsie, catching sight
of her, and being naturally anxious to avoid a meet-
ing just then, at once quickened her pace very consid-
erably, almost running up the stairs to her own room,
where she found old Aunt Phoebe, Jim's mother,
waiting to speak with her.
The poor old creature was overflowing with grati-
tude, and her fervent outpouring of thanks and bless-
ings almost made Elsie forget her disappointment for
the time.
Then Jim came to the door, asking to see Miss Elsie,
and poured out his thanks amid many sobs and tears ;
for the poor fellow had been terribly frightened in-
deed, so astounded by the unexpected charge, that he
had not had a word to say in his own defence, be-
yond an earnest and reiterated assertion of his entire
innocence ; to which, however, his angry master had
paid no attention.
But at length Phoebe remembered that she had
some baking to do, and calling on Jim to come right
along and split up some dry wood to heat her oven,
she went down to the kitchen followed by her son,
and Elsie w r as left alone with her nurse.
150 ELSIE DIN SHORE.
Chloe sat silently knitting, and the little girl, with
her head leaning upon her hand and her eyes fixed
thoughtfully upon the floor, was rehearsing again and
again in her own mind all that had just passed be-
tween her papa and herself ; dwelling with lingering
delight upon everything approaching to a caress, every
kind word, every soothing tone of his voice ; and then
picturing to herself all that he might have done and
said if those unwelcome visitors had not come in and
put an end to the interview ; and half hoping that he
would send for her when they had gone, she watched
the clock and listened intently for every sound.
But her bedtime came and she dared not stay up
any longer ; for his orders had been peremptory that
she should always retire precisely at that hour, un-
less she had his express permission to remain up
longer.
She lay awake for some time, thinking of his un-
wonted kindness, and indulging fond hopes for the
future, then fell asleep to dream that she was on
her father's knee, and felt his arms folded lovingly
about her, and his kisses warm upon her cheek.
Her heart beat quickly as she entered the breakfast-
room the next morning.
The family were just taking their places at the
table, and her half-eager, half-timid " Good morning,
papa,' was answered by a grave, absent " Good
morning, Elsie," and turning to his father and enter-
ing into a conversation with him on some business
matter, he took no further notice of his little daugh-
ELSIE D1NSMORE. 151
ter, excepting to see that her plate was well supplied
with such articles of food as he allowed her to eat.
Elsie was sadly disappointed, and lingered about
the room in the vain hope of obtaining a smile or
aress ; but presently her father went out, saying to
the elder Mr. Dinsniore that he was going to ride
over to Ion, and would probably not return before
night ; then, with a sigh, the little girl went back to
her own room to prepare her morning lessons.
Elsie was now happily free from Arthurs persecu-
tions for a time ; for even after his release, he was
too much afraid of his brother openly to offer her any
very serious annoyance, though he plotted revenge in
secret ; yet the little girl's situation was far from.
omf ortable, and her patience often severely tried, for
Mrs. Dinsmore was excessively angry with her on
Arthur's account, and whenever her father was not
present, treated her in the most unkind manner ; and
from the same cause the rest of the family, with the
exception of her grandpa and Aunt Adelaide, were
unusually cold and distant ; while her father, although
careful to see that all her wants were attended to, sel-
dom took any further notice of her ; unless to re-
V
prove her for some childish fault which, however
trifling, never escaped his eye.
" You seem, " said Adelaide to him one day, as he
sent Elsie from the room for some very slight fault,
" to expect that child to be a great deal more perfect
than any grown person I ever saw, and to understand
all about the rules of etiquette."
152 ELSIE DINSMORE.
11 If you please, Adelaide," said he haughtily, " I
should like to be allowed to manage my own child as
I see proper, without any interference from others. ' :
11 Excuse me," replied his sister ; "I had no inten-
tion of interfering ; but really, Horace, I do think
you have no idea how eagle-eyed you are for faults
in her, nor how very stern is the tone in which you
always reprove her. I have known Elsie a great deal
longer than you have, and I feel very certain that a
gentle reproof would do her quite as much good, and
not wound her half so much.'
" Enough, Adelaide !" exclaimed her brother, im-
patiently. " If I were ten years younger than your-
self, instead of that much older, there might be some
propriety in your advising and directing me thus ; as
it is, I must say I consider it simply impertinent.'
And he left the room with an angry stride, while
Adelaide looked after him with the thought, " I am
glad you have no authority over me.'
All that Adelaide had said was true ; yet Elsie
never complained, never blamed her father, even in
her heart ; but, in her deep humility, thought it was
all because she was " so very naughty or careless ;"
and she was continually making resolutions to be
"oh ! so careful always to do just right, and please
dear papa, so that some day he might learn to love
her."
But, alas ! that hope was daily growing fainter and
fainter ; his cold and distant manner to her and his
often repeated reproofs had so increased her natural
ELSIE DINSMORE. 153
timidity and sensitiveness that she was now very con-
strained in her approaches to him, and seldom ven-
tured to move or speak in his presence ; and he would
not see that this timidity and embarrassment were the
natural results of his treatment, but attributed it al)
to want of affection. He saw that she feared him,
and to that feeling alone he gave credit for her uni-
form obedience to his commands, while he had no
conception of the intense, but now almost despairing
love for him that burned in that little heart, and
made the young life one longing, earnest desire and
effort to gain his affection.
" Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I
will fear no evil ; for thou art with me ; thy rod and thy staff, they
comfort me." Psalm xxiii. 4.
" 'Tis but the cruel artifice of fate,
Thus to refine and vary on our woes,
To raise us from despair and give us hopes,
Only to plunge us in the gulf again,
And make us doubly wretched."
TRAP'S Abramuh.
IT was Sabbath morning, and Elsie, ready dressed
for church, stood in the portico waiting for her father
to come down and lift her into the carriage, in which
Adelaide, Louisa, and Enna were already seated.
The coachman was in his seat, and the horses, a
pair of young and fiery steeds purchased by Mr. Dins-
more only a few days bef ore, were impatiently stamp-
ing and tossing their heads, requiring quite an exer-
tion of strength to hold them in.
" I don't exactly like the actions of those horses,
Ajax," remarked Mr. Dinsmore, as he came out put-
ting on his gloves ; "I did not intend to have them
put in harness to-day. Why did you not give us
the old bays?"
/
" Kase, Marster Horace, ole Kate she's got a lame
foot, an' ole marster he say dese youngsters is got to
ELSIE DIN SHORE. 155
be used some time or nuther, an' I reckoned I moiit
jis as well use 'em to-day.'
' ' Do you feel quite sure of being able to hold them
in ?" asked his master, glancing uneasily first at the
horses and then at Elsie.
" Ki ! marster, dis here chile ben able to hold in
a'most anything," exclaimed the negro, exhibiting a
double row of dazzlingly white teeth ; ' ' an' besides,
I'se drove dese here bosses twice 'fore now, an' dey
went splendid. Hold 'em in ? Yes, sah, easy as
nuffin. ' '
" Elsie," said her father, still looking a little un-
easy, in spite of Ajax's boasting, " I think it would
be just as well for you to stay at home.'
Elsie made no reply in words, but her answering
look spoke such intense disappointment, such earnest
entreaty, that, saying, " Ah ! well, I suppose there
is no real danger ; and since you seem so anxious
to go, I will not compel you to stay at home," he
lifted her into the carriage, and seating; himself be-
O ' O
side her, ordered the coachman to drive on as care-
fully as he could.
" Elsie, change seats with me," said Enna ; "I
want to sit beside Brother Horace."
" No," replied Mr. Dinsmore, laying his hand
on his little daughter's shoulder, " Elsie's place is by
me, and she shall sit nowhere else."
' ' Do you think we are in any danger of being run
away with ?" asked Adelaide a little anxiously, as
she observed him glancing once or twice out of the
156 ELSIE DINSMORE,
window, and was at the same time sensible that their
motion was unusually rapid.
" The horses are young and fiery, but Ajax is an
excellent driver," he replied, evasively ; adding,
11 You may be sure that if I had thought the danger
very great I would have left Elsie at home."
They reached the church without accident, but
on their return the horses took fright while going
down a hill, and rushed along at a furious rate,
which threatened every instant to upset the car-
nage.
Elsie thought they were going very fast, but did
not know that there was real danger until her father
suddenly lifted her from her seat, and placing her
between his knees, held her tightly, as though he
feared she would be snatched from his grasp.
Elsie looked up into his face. It was deadly pale,
and his eyes were fixed upon her with an expression
of anguish.
" Dear papa," she whispered, " God will take care
of us."
" I would give all I am worth to have you safe at
home," he answered hoarsely, pressing her closer
and closer to him.
Oh ! even in that moment of fearful peril, when
death seemed just at hand, those words, and the
affectionate clasp of her father's arm, sent a thrill
of intense joy to the love-famished heart of the little
girl.
But destruction seemed inevitable. Lora was
ELSIE D1N8MORE. 157
leaning back, half fainting with terror ; Adelaide
scarcely less alarmed, while Enna clung to her sob-
bing most bitterly.
Elsie alone preserved a cheerful serenity. She had
built her house upon the rock, and knew that it
would stand. Her destiny was in her Heavenly
Father's hands, and she was content to leave it there.
Even death had no terrors to the simple, unquestion-
ing faith of the little child who had put her trust in
Jesus.
But they were not to perish thus ; for at that
moment a powerful negro, who was walking along-
the road, hearing an unusual sound, turned about,
caught sight of the vehicle coming toward him at
such a rapid rate, and instantly comprehending the
peril of the travellers, planted himself in the middle
of the road, and, at the risk of life and limb, caught
the horses by the bridle the sudden and unexpected
check thrpwing them upon their haunches, and bring-
ing the carriage to an instant stand- still.
" Thank God, we are saved ! That fellow shall
be well rewarded for his brave deed," exclaimed Mr.
Dinsmore, throwing open the carriage door.
Then, leaping to the ground, he lifted Elsie out,
set her down, and gave his hand to his sisters one
after the other.
They were almost at the entrance of the avenue,
and all preferred to walk the short distance to the
house rather than again trust themselves to the
horses.
158 ELSIE D1NSMORE.
Mr. Dinsmore lingered a moment to speak to the
man who had done them such good service, and to
give some directions to the coachman ; and then,
taking the hand of his little girl, who had been wait-
ing for him, he walked slowly on, neither of them
speaking a word until they reached the house, when
.he stooped and kissed her cheek, asking very kindly
if she had recovered from her fright.
11 Yes, papa," she answered, in a quiet tone,
" I knew that God would take care of us. Oh !
wasn't He good to keep us all from being killed ?"
" Yes," he said, very gravely. " Go now and let
mammy get you ready for dinner."
As Elsie was sitting alone in her room that after-
O
noon she was surprised by a visit from Lora ; it being
very seldom that the elder girls cared to enter her
apartment.
Lora looked a little pale, and more grave and
thoughtful than Elsie had ever seen her. For a while
she sat in silence, then suddenly burst out, " Oh,
Elsie ! I can't help thinking all the time, what if we
had been killed ! where would we all be now ? where
would / have been ? I believe you would have gone
straight to heaven, Elsie ; but / oh ! I should have
been with the rich man the minister read about this
morning, lifting up my eyes in torment."
* And Lora covered her face with her hands and
shuddered.
Presently she went on again. " I was terri-
bly frightened, and so were the rest all but you,
ELSIE D INSHORE. 159
Elsie ; tell me, do what kept you from being
afraid?"
" I was thinking," said Elsie gently, turning over
the leaves of her little Bible as she spoke, " of this
sweet verse : ; Yea, though I walk through the valley
of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil ; for thou
art with me ; ' and oh, Lora ! it made me so happy
to think that Jesus was there with me, and that if I
Avere killed, I should only fall asleep, to wake up
again in His arms ; then how could I be afraid ?"
' ' Ah ! I would give anything to feel as you do, ' !
said Lora, sighing. " But tell me, Elsie, did you not
feel afraid for the rest of us ? I'm sure you must
know that ive are not Christians ; we don't even pre-
tend to be.'
Elsie blushed and looked down.
" It all passed so quickly, you know, Lora, almost
in a moment," she said, " so that I only had time to
J
think of papa and myself ; and I have prayed so
much for him that I felt quite sure God would
spare him until he should be prepared to die. It
was very selfish, I know,' 1 she added with deep
humility ; " but it was only for a moment, and I
can't tell you how thankful I was for all our spared
lives. '
" Don't look so as if you had done something very
wicked, Elsie," replied Lora, sighing again. " I'm
sure we have given you little enough reason to care
whatever becomes of us ; but oh ! Elsie, if you can
only tell me how to be a Christian, I mean now to-
160 ELSIE DINSMORE.
try very hard ; indeed, I am determined never to rest
until I am one.'
" Oil, Lora, how glad I am !" cried Elsie, joyfully,
41 for I know that if you are really in earnest, you will
succeed ; for no one ever yet failed who tried aright.
Jesus said, ' .fiWryottethatasketli, receiveth ; and he
that seeketh, findeth ; and to him that knocketh, it
-shall be opened.' Is not that encouraging? And
listen to what God says here in this verse : ' Ye shall
.seek me, and find me, when ye shall search for me
with all your heart. ' So you see, dear Lora, if you
"will only seek the Lord with your whole heart, you
may be sure, quite sure of finding him.'
" Yes," said Lora, " but you have not answered
my question : how am I to seek ? that is, what means
am I to use to get rd of my sins, and get a new
heart ? how make myself pleasing in the sight of
God ? what must I do to be saved ?"
" That is the very question the jailer put to Paul,
and he answered, ' Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ,
.and thou shalt be saved,' ' replied Elsie, quickly
turning to the chapter and pointing out the text with
her finger, that Lora might see that she had quoted
it correctly. " And in answer to your other question,
' How shall I get rid of my sins ? ' see here : ' In that
O /
day there shall be a fountain opened to the house of
David and to the inhabitants of Jerusalem for sin and
for uncleanness. ' That is in Zechariah ; then John
tells us what that fountain is when he says, ' The
t>lood of Jesus Christ His Son cleanseth us from all
ELSIE DINSMORE. i6r
sin ; ' and again, ' Unto Him that loved us, and
washed us from our sins in His own blood.'
" Yes, Elsie, but what must I do T" 1 asked Lora,
eagerly.
"Do, Lora? only believe,' replied Elsie, in the
same earnest tone. " Jesus has done and suffered all
that is necessary ; and now we have nothing at all to-
do but to go to Him and be washed in that fountain ;
believe Him when He says, ' I give unto them eter-
nal life ; ' just accept the gift, and trust and love
Him ; that is the whole of it, and it is so simple that
even such a little girl as I can understand it.'
" But surely, Elsie, I can, I must do something. r '
" Yes, God tells us to repent ; and He says, l Give
me thine heart ; ' you can do that ; you can love
Jesus ; at least He will enable you to, if you ask Him r
and He will teach you to be sorry for your sins ; the
Bible says, ' He is exalted to give repentance and
remission of sins ; J and if you ask Him He will give
them to you. It is true we cannot do anything good
of ourselves ; without the help of the Holy Spirit we
can do nothing right, because we are so very wicked \
but then we can always get that help if we ask for it.
Jesus said, ' Your Heavenly Father is more willing to
give His Holy Spirit to them that ask Him, than
parents are to give good gifts unto their children.
Oh, Lora ! don't be afraid to ask for it ; don't be
afraid to come to Jesus, for He says, ' Him that com-
et h unto Me, I will in nowise cast out ; ' and He is
such a precious Saviour, so kind and loving. But re-
1 62 ELSIE DINSMORE.
member that you must come very humbly ; feeling
that you are a great sinner, and not worthy to be
heard, and only hoping to be forgiven because Jesus
died. The Bible says, ' God resisteth the proud, but
.<2, - iveth grace unto the humble.'
Lora lingered the greater part of the afternoon in
Elsie's room, asking her questions, or listening to her
while she read the Scriptures, or repeated some beau-
tiful hymn, or spoke, in her sweet, childish way, of
lier own peace and joy in believing in Jesus.
But at last Lora went to her own room, and Elsie
liad another quiet half-hour to herself before the 'tea-
bell again called the family together.
Elsie answered the summons with a light heart a
heart that thrilled with a new and strange sense of
O
happiness as she remembered her father's evident
anxiety for her safety during their perilous ride, re-
calling each word and look, and feeling again, in im-
agination, the clasp of his arm about her waist.
' ' Ah ! surely papa does love me," she murmured to
herself over and over again ; and when he met her at
the table with a kind smile, and laying his hand ca-
ressingly on her head, asked in an affectionate tone,
"How does my little daughter do this evening?"'
J O
lier cheeks flushed, and her eyes grew bright with
happiness, and she longed to throw her arms around
his neck, and tell him how very, very much she loved
him.
But that was quite impossible at the table, and be-
fore all the family ; so she merely raised her glad
ELSIE DINSMORE. 163
eyes to his face and answered, " I am very well,
thank you, papa.'
But, after all, this occurrence produced but little
change in Elsie's condition ; her father treated her a
little more affectionately for a day or two, and then
gradually returned to his ordinary stern, cold man-
ner ; indeed, before the week was out, she was again
in sad disgrace.
She was walking alone in the garden one afternoon,
when her attention was attracted by a slight fluttering
noise which seemed to proceed from an arbor near by,
and on hastily turning in to ascertain the cause, she
found a tiny and beautiful humming-bird confined
under a glass vase ; in its struggles to escape it was
buttering and beating against the walls of its prison,
thus producing the sound the little girl had heard in
passing.
Elsie was very tender-hearted, and could never see
any living creature in digress without feeling a strong
desire to relieve its sufferings. She knew that Arthur
was in the habit of torturing every little insect and
bird that came in his way, and had often drawn his
persecutions upon herself by interfering in behalf of
the poor victim ; and now the thought instantl)
flashed upon her that this was some of his work,
and that he would return erelong to carry out his
cruel purposes. Then at once arose the desire to re-
lease the little prisoner and save it further suffering,
and without waiting to reflect a moment she raised
the glass, and the bird was gone.
164 ELSIE DIN8MORS.
Then she began to think with a little tremor, how
angry Arthur would be ; but it was too late to think
of that now, and, after all, she did not stand in very
great dread of the consequences, especially as she felt
nearly sure of her father's approval of what she had
done, having several times heard him reprove Arthur
for his cruel practices.
Not caring to meet Arthur then, however, she has-
tily retreated to the house, where she seated herself in
the veranda with a book. It was a very w T arm after-
noon, and that, being on the east side of the house
and well protected by trees, shrubbery, and vines,
was as cool a spot as could be found on the place.
Arthur, Walter, and Enna sat on the floor playing
jack-stones a favorite game with them and Louise
was stretched full length on a settee, buried in the
latest novel.
" Hush !" she said, as AYalter gave a sudden shout
at a successful toss Enna had just made ; " can't you
be quiet ? Mamma is taking her afternoon nap, and
you will disturb her ; and, besides, I cannot read in
such a noise.' :
Elsie wondered why Arthur did not go to see after
his bird, but soon forgot all about it in the interest
with which she was poring over the story of the
" Swiss Family Robinson. ' :
The jack-stone players were just finishing their
.game when they were all startled by the sudden
appearance of Mr. Horace Dinsmore upon the scene,
asking in a tone of great wrath who had been down
ELSIE DINSMORE. 165
in the garden and liberated the humming-bird he had
been at such pains to catch, because it was one of a
rare species, and he was anxious to add it to his col-
lection of curiosities.
Elsie was terribly frightened, and would have been
glad at that moment to sink through the floor ; she
dropped her book in her lap, and clasping her hands
over her beating heart, grew pale and red by turns,
while she seemed choking with the vain effort to
speak and acknowledge herself the culprit, as con-
science told her she ought.
But her father was not looking at her ; his eye
was fixed on Arthur.
" I presume it was you, sir," he said very angrily,
41 and if so, you may prepare yourself for either a
flogging or a return to your prison, for one or the
other I am determined you shall have."
" I didn't do it, any such thing," replied the boy,
fiercely.
" Of course you will deny it," said his brother,
"but we all know that your word is good for nothing. ' ;
"Papa," said a trembling little voice, "Arthur
did not do it ; it was I."
You," exclaimed her father, in atone of mingled
anger and astonishment, as he turned his flashing
eye upon her, " you, Elsie ! can it be possible that
this is your doing ?"
Elsie's book fell on the floor, and, covering her
face w r ith both hands, she burst into sobs and tears.
" Come here to me this instant," he said, seating
1 66 ELSIE DIN SHORE.
himself on the settee, from which Louise had risen
on his entrance. ' ' Come here and tell rne what you
mean by meddling with my affairs in this way."
1 Please, papa, please don't be so very angry with
me, ' ' sobbed the little girl, as she rose and came for-
ward in obedience to his command ; " I didn't know
it was your bird, and I didn't mean to be naughty."
1 No, you never mean to be naughty, according to
your own account," he said ; "your badness is all
accident ; but nevertheless, I find you a very trouble-
some, mischievous child : it was only the other day
you broke a valuable vase" (he forgot in his anger
how little she had really been to blame for that),
1 and now you have caused me the loss of a rare
specimen which I had spent a great deal of time and
effort in procuring. Really, Elsie, I am sorely tempt-
ed to administer a very severe punishment. ' '
Elsie caught at the arm of the settee for sup-
port.
Tell me what you did it for ; was it pure love of
mischief ?" asked her father, sternly, taking hold of
her arm and holding her up by it.
: No, papa," she answered almost under her
breath. " I was sorry for the little bird. I thought
Arthur had put it there to torture it, and so I let it
go. I did not mean to do wrong, papa, indeed I did
not, ' ' and the tears fell faster and faster.
Indeed," said he, " you had no business to med-
dle with it, let who would have put it there. Which
hand did it 2"
ELSIE D INSHORE. 167
"This one, papa," sobbed the child, indicating
her rio-ht hand.
O
He took it in his and held it a moment, while the
little girl stood tremblingly awaiting what was to come
next. He looked at the downcast, tearful face, the
bosom heaving with sobs, and then at the little trem-
O
bling hand he held, so soft, and white, and tender,
and the sternness of his countenance relaxed some-
what ; it seemed next to impossible to inflict pain
upon anything so tender and helpless ; and for a mo-
ment he was half inclined to kiss and forgive her.
But no, he had been very much irritated at his loss,
and the remembrance of it again aroused his anger,
and well-nigh extinguished the little spark of love
and compassion that had burned for a moment in his
heart. She should be punished, though he would not
inflict physical pain.
" See, Elsie,'" laughed Louise, maliciously, " he
is feeling in his pocket for his knife. I suspect he
intends to cut your hand off. '
Elsie started, and the tearful eyes were raised to
her father's face with a look half of terrified en-
treaty, half of confidence that such could not be his
intention.
" Hush, Louise !" exclaimed her brother, sternly ;
*' you know you are not speaking truly, and that I
would as soon think of cutting off my own hand as
my child's. You should never speak anything but
truth, especially to children. ' :
* ' I think it is well enough to frighten them a little
O O
1 68 ELSIE DINSMORE.
sometimes, and I thought that was what you were
going to do," replied Louise, looking somewhat mor-
tified at the rebuke.
" No," said her brother, " that is a very bad plan,
and one which I shall never adopt. Elsie will learn
in time, if she does not know it now, that I never
utter a threat which I do not intend to carry out,
and never break my word. ' :
He had drawn a handkerchief from his pocket
while speaking.
" I shall tie this hand up, Elsie, ' ; ' he said, pro-
ceeding to do so ; " those who do not use their
hands aright must be deprived of the use of them.
There ! let me see if that will keep it out of mis-
chief. I shall tie you up hand and foot before long,
if you continue such mischievous pranks. Now go
to your room, and stay there until tea-time."
Elsie felt deeply, bitterly disgraced and humiliated
as she turned to obey ; and it needed not Arthur's
triumphant chuckle nor the smirk of satisfaction
on Enna's face to add to the keen suffering of her
wounded spirit : this slight punishment was more to
her than a severe chastisement would have been to
many another child ; for the very knowledge of her
father's displeasure was enough at any time to cause
great pain to her sensitive spirit and gentle, loving
heart.
Walter, who was far more tender-hearted than
either his brother or sister, felt touched by the sight
of her distress, and ran after her to say, " Never
ELSIE DINSMORE. 169
mind, Elsie ; I am ever so sorry for you, and I don't
think you were the least bit naughty.'
She thanked him with a grateful look, and a faint
attempt to smile through her tears ; then hurried on
to her room, where she seated herself in a chair by
the window, and laying her arms upon the sill, rest-
ed her head upon them, and while the bitter tears
fell fast from her eyes she murmured half aloud,
4i Oh ! why am I always so naughty ? always doing
something to displease my dear papa ? how I wish I
could be good, and make him love me ! I am afraid
he never will if I vex him so often.'
Then an earnest, importunate prayer for help to do
right, and wisdom to understand how to gain her
father's love, went up from the almost despairing
little heart to Him whose ear is ever open unto the
ry of His suffering children. And thus between
weeping, mourning, and praying, an hour passed
slowly away, and the tea-bell rang.
Elsie started up, but sat down again, feeling that
she would much rather do without her supper than
show her tear-swollen eyes and tied-up hand at the
table.
But she was not to be left to her choice in the
matter, for presently there came a messenger bring-
ing a peremptory command from her father " to come
down immediately to her supper. '
" Did you not hear the bell ?" he asked, in his
sternest tone, as she tremblingly took her seat at
Ids side.
170 ELSIE DINSMORE.
11 Yes, sir, " she answered, in a low, tremulous tone.
" Very well, then ; remember that you are always
to come down the moment the bell rings, unless you
are directed otherwise, or are sick ; and the next
time you are so late, I shall send you away without
your meal."
' I don't want any supper, papa," she said, humbly.
" Hush," he replied, severely ; " I will have no-
pouting or sulking ; you must just eat your supper
and behave yourself. Stop this crying at once, ' ' he
added, in an undertone, as he spread some preserves
on a piece of bread and laid it on her plate, " or I
shall take you away from the table ; and if I do, you
will be very sorry.' 1
He watched her a moment while she made a vio-
lent effort to choke back her tears.
" What is your hand tied up for, Elsie ?" asked
her grandfather ; " have you been hurt ?"
Elsie's face flushed painfully, but she made no
reply.
You must speak when you are spoken to, ' ' said
her father ; " answer your grandfather's question at.
once.'
" Papa tied it up, because I was naughty," replied
the little girl, vainly striving to suppress a sob.
Her father made a movement as if about to lead
her from the table.
" papa ! don't," she cried, in terror ; "I will
be good."
" Let me have no more crying, then," said he \
ELSIE DINSMORE. 171
" this is shameful behavior for a girl eight years old
it would be bad enough in a child of Enna's age.' :
He took out his handkerchief and wiped her eyes.
* * Now, ' ' said he, ' ' begin to eat your supper at once,
and don't let me have to reprove you again.'
Elsie tried to obey, but it seemed very difficult,
indeed almost impossible, while she knew that her
father was watching her closely, and felt that every-
body else was looking at her and thinking, " What
& naughty little girl you are !"
" Oh !" thought the poor child, " if papa would
only quit looking at me, and the rest would forget all
about me and eat their suppers, maybe I could keep
from crying.' Then she sent up a silent prayer for
help, struggled hard to keep back the tears and sobs
that were almost suffocating her, and taking up her
slice of bread, tried to eat.
She was very thankful to her Aunt Adelaide for
addressing a question to her papa just at that mo-
ment, thus taking his attention from her, and then
adroitly setting them all to talking until the little girl
had had time to recover her composure, at least in a
measure.
" May I go to my room now, papa ?" asked the
timid little voice as they rose from the table.
" No," he said, taking her hand and leading her
/ ' O O
out to the veranda, where he settled himself in an
easy-chair, and lighted a cigar.
" Bring me that book that lies yonder on the set-
tee," he commanded,
172 ELSIE DIN SHORE.
She brought it.
" Now/' said he, " bring that stool and set your-
self down here close at my knee, and let me see if
I can keep you out of mischief for an hour or two. "
" May I get a book to read, papa ?" she asked
timidly.
" No," said he shortly. " You may just do what
I bid you, and nothing more nor less. ' :
She sat down as he directed, with her face turned
toward him, and tried to amuse herself with her ow'n
thoughts, and watching the expression of his coun-
tenance as he read on and on, turning leaf after leaf,
too much interested in his book to take any further
notice of her.
" How handsome my papa is !" thought the little
girl, gazing with affectionate admiration into his.
face. And then she sighed, and tears trembled in
her eyes again. She admired her father, and loved
him, " oh ! so dearly," as she often whispered to her-
self ; but would she ever meet with anything like a
return of her fond affection ? There was an aching-
void in her heart which nothing else could fill : must
it always be thus ? was her craving for affection never
to be satisfied ? "0 papa ! my own papa, will you
never love me ?" mourned the sad little heart. " Ah !
if I could only be good always, perhaps he would ;
but I am so often naughty ; whenever he begins to-
be kind I am sure to do something to vex him, and
O
then it is all over. Oh ! I wish I could be good ! I will
try very, very hard. Ah ! if I might climb on his-
ELSIE DINSMORE. 173
knee now, and lay my head on his breast, and put
my arms round his neck, and tell him how sorry I
am that I have been naughty, and made him lose his
O uJ *
bird ; and how much oh ! how much I love him !
But I know I never could tell him that I don't know
how to express it ; no words could, I am sure. And
if he would forgive me, and kiss me, and call me his.
dear little daughter. Oh ! will he ever call me that?
Or if I might only stand beside him and lay my head
on his shoulder, and he would put his arm around
me, it would make me so happy.'
An exclamation from Enna caused Elsie to turn
her head, and suddenly springing to her feet, she ex-
claimed in an eager, excited way, " Papa, there is a
carriage coming up the avenue it must be visitors ;
please, please, papa, let me go to my room."
" Why ?" he asked coolly, looking up from his
book, " why do you wish to go ?"
" Because I don't want to see them, papa," she-
said, hanging her head and blushing deeply ; "I
don't want them to see me."
" You are not usually afraid of visitors," he re-
/
plied in the same cool tone.
" But they will see that my hand is tied up, and
they will ask what is the matter. papa ! do, please
do let me go quickly, before they get here," she
pleaded in an agony of shame and haste.
" No," said he, " I shall not let you go, if it were
only to punish you for getting off the seat where I
bade you stay, without permission. You will have to
174 ELSIE D INSHORE.
learn that I am to be obeyed at all times, and under
all circumstances. Sit down, and don''t dare to move
again until I give you leave."
Elsie sat down without another word, but two
bitter, scalding tears rolled quickly down her burning
cheeks.
" You needn't cry, Elsie," said her father ; " it is
only an old gentleman who comes to see your grand-
father on business, and who, as he never notices
children, will not be at all likely to ask any questions.
I hope you will learn some day, Elsie, to save your
tears until there is really some occasion for them.' :
The old gentleman had alighted while Mr. Dins-
more was speaking ; Elsie saw that he was alone, and
the relief was so great that for once she scarcely
heeded her father's rebuke.
Another half-hour passed, and Mr. Dinsmore still
sat reading, taking no notice of Elsie, who, afraid to
speak or move, was growing very weary and sleepy.
She longed to lay her head on her father's knee, but
dared not venture to take such a liberty ; but at
length she was so completely overpowered by sleep
as to do so unconsciously.
The sound of his voice pronouncing her name
aroused her.
" You are tired and sleepy," said he ; "if you
would like to go to bed you may do so.'
" Thank you, papa," she replied, rising to her feet.
" Well," he said, seeing her hesitate, " speak, if
you have anything to say."
ELSIE DINSMORE. 175
i V
I am very sorry I was naughty, papa. Will you
please forgive me ?" The words were spoken very
low, and almost with a sob.
" Will you try not to meddle in future,, and not to
cry at the table, or pout and sulk when you are pun-
ished ?" he asked in a cold, grave tone.
" Yes, sir, I will try to be a good girl always, r
said the humble little voice.
" Then I will forgive you,'" he replied, taking the
handkerchief off her hand.
Still Elsie lingered. She felb as if she could not
go without some little token of forgiveness and love,
some slight caress.
He looked at her with an impatient " Well ?"
Then, in answer to her mute request, " No," he said,
" I will not kiss you to-night ; you have been en-
tirely too naughty. Go to your room at once."
Aunt Chloe was absolutely frightened by the vio-
lence of her child's grief, as she rushed into the room
and flung herself into her arms weeping and sobbing
most vehemently.
" What's de matter, darlin' ?" she asked in great
alarm.
" O mammy, mammy !" sobbed the child, " papa
wouldn't kiss me ! he said I was too naughty. O
mammy ! will he ever love me now ?' ;
Chanter Scfamtb.
vJ I *J
' The smallest worm will turn, being trodden on."
SHAKSPEARE, Richard III.
*' A blossom full of promise is life's joy,
That never comes to fruit. Hope, for a time,
Suns the young flow'ret in its gladsome light,
And it looks flourishing a little while
'Tis pass'd, we know not whither, but 'tis gone."
Miss LANDON.
IT was Miss Day's custom to present to the
parents of her pupils a monthly report of their con-
duct and recitations. The regular time for this had
O
occurred once since Mr. Horace Dinsmore's return,
when she, of course, handed Elsie's to him.
It was very satisfactory, for Elsie was a most dili-
gent scholar, carrying her religious principles into
that as well as everything else ; and disposed as Miss
Day was to find fault with her, she could seldom see
any excuse for so doing, in either her conduct or rec-
itations.
Mr. Dinsmore glanced over the report and handed
it back, saying, " It is all very good ; very satisfac-
tory indeed. I am glad to see that she is industrious
and well behaved, for I wish her to grow up an in-
telligent and amiable woraaa r
ELSIE DINSMOEE. 17?
Elsie, who was standing near, heard the words, and
they sent a glow of pleasure to her cheek. She-
looked up eagerly ; but her father turned and walked
away without taking any notice of her, and the glow
of happiness faded, and the soft eyes filled with tears,
of wounded feeling.
o
It was now time for a second report ; but alas ! the
past month had been a most unfortunate one for the-
little girl : the weather was very warm, and she
had felt languid and weak, and so much were her
thoughts occupied with the longing desire to gain her
father's love, so depressed were her spirits by her
constant failure to do so, that she often found it im-
possible to give her mind to her lessons.
Arthur, too, during much of the time before and
since the week of his imprisonment, had been more?
than usually annoying, shaking her chair and jogging-
her elbow so frequently when she was writing, that
her copy-book presented by no means so good an ap-
pearance as usual ; and never had Miss Day made out
so poor a report for her. She carried it with much
secret satisfaction to the little girl's father, and en-
tered a long complaint of the child's idleness and
inattention.
" Send her to me," he said, angrily. " She will
find me in my own room. ' :
Miss Day had left Elsie in the school-room putting^
her desk in order after the day's work, and she found
her still there on her return.
" Elsie," said she, with a malicious smile, " your
ELSIE DINSMORE.
father wishes to see you immediately. He is in his
room.'
The child turned red and pale by turns, and trem-
bled so violently that for a moment she was quite
unable to move ; for she guessed from Miss Day's
countenance what was probably in store for her.
" I advise you to go at once," said that lady,
" for no doubt the longer you wait the worse it will
be for you.''
At the same moment Mr. Dinsmore's voice was
heard calling in a stern, angry tone, " Elsie !' :
Making* a violent effort to control her feelings, she
O O 7
started up and hastened to obey.
The door of his room stood open, and she walked
Tii, asking in a trembling voice, " Did you call me,
papa ?"
" Yes," said he, " I did. Come here to me."
He was sitting with the copy-book and report in
'his hand, and there was much severity in both tone
.and look as he addressed her.
She obeyed instantly, but trembling violently, and
with a face pale as death, and eyes filled with tears.
She lifted them pleadingly to his face ; and, touched
l>y her evident terror and distress, he said in a tone
somewhat less stern, " Can you tell me, Elsie, how it
liappens that your teacher brings me so bad a report
of your conduct and lessons during the past month ?
She says you have been very idle ; and the report
tells the same story ; and this copy-book presents a
shameful appearance '
ELSIE D INSHORE. 179
The child answered only by tears and sobs.
They seemed to irritate him.
" Elsie," he said, sternly, " when I ask a question,,
I require an answer, and that instantly. r '
" Opapa !" she answered, pleadingly, " I couldn't
study. I'm very sorry I'll try to do better only
don't be very angry with me, dear papa.'
" I am angry with you ; very angry, indeed," said
he in the same severe tone, " and very strongly in-
clined to punish you. You couldn't study, eh ?
What reason can you assign, pray ? Were you nob.
well ?"
" I don't know, sir," sobbed the little girl.
11 You don't know? Very well, then, I think yous
could not be very ill without knowing it, and so you
seem to have no excuse at all to offer ? However, I
will not inflict any punishment upon you this time,
as you seem to be really sorry, and have promised tc
do better ; but beware how you let me see such a re-
port as this, or hear such complaints of idleness
again, unless you wish to be severely punished ; and I
warn you that unless your next copy-book presents a
better appearance than this, I certainly shall punish
you.
" There are a number of pages here that look quite
well," he continued, turning over the leaves ; " that
shows what you can do, if you choose ; now there v
an old saying, * A bird that ccmsing, and won't sing,.
must be made to sing.' Hush !" as Elsie seemed
about to speak ; '* not a word. You may go now/'
i8o ELSIE DIN SHORE.
And throwing himself back in his easy-chair, he took
nip a newspaper and began to read.
Yet Elsie lingered : her heart so yearned for one
word or look of sympathy and love ; she so longed
to throw herself into his arms and tell him how
dearly, how very dearly she loved him ; she did so
hunger and thirst for one fond caress ah ! how
O
could she go away without it now, when for the very
first time she found herself alone with him in his own
room, where she had never ventured before, but
where she had often been in her brightest dreams.
And so she lingered, trembling, hoping, fearing ;
but presently he looked up with a cold " Why do
you stand there ? I gave you permission to go ; go
.at once." And with a sinking heart she turned
O
.away and sought the solitude of her own room, there
to weep, and mourn, and pray that she might one
day possess the love she so pined for, and bitterly to
reproach herself for having by the failures of the
past month put it farther from her.
And soon a thought came to her which added
o
greatly to her distress. If Arthur continued his
persecutions, how could she make the next copy-
book more presentable ? and in case it were not, her
father had said positively that he would punish her ;
and oh ! how could she bear punishment from him,
when a word or look of displeasure almost broke her
heart ?
Miss Day seldom remained in the school-room
during the whole of the writing hour, and some-
ELSIE DIN SHORE. 181
times the older girls were also absent, so that Arthur
had ample opportunity to indulge his mischievous
propensities ; for Elsie was above the meanness of
telling tales, and had she not been, Arthur was so
great a favorite with his mother that she would have
brought a great deal of trouble upon herself by so
doing.
She therefore sa\v no escape from the dreaded
punishment, unless she could persuade the perverse
bov to cease his annoyances ; and of that there was
*/ v
little hope.
But she carried her trouble to her Heavenly Father,
and asked* Him to help her. She was still on her
knees, pouring out her sobs and prayers, when some
one knocked at the door.
She rose and opened it to find her Aunt Adelaide
standing there.
O
" Elsie," she said, " I am writing to Miss Rose ;
have you any word to send ? You may write a little
note, if you choose, and I will enclose it in my letter.
But what is the matter, child?" she suddenly ex-
claimed, kindly taking the little girl's hand in
hers.
With many tears and sobs Elsie told her the whole
story, not omitting her papa's threat, and her fear
that she could not, on account of Arthur's persecu-
tions, avoid incurring the punishment.
Adelaide's sympathies were enlisted, and she drew
the sobbing child to her side, saying, as she pressed
a kiss on her cheek, " Never mind, Elsie, I will take
1 82 ELSIE DINSMORE.
my book or needle-work to the school-room every
day, and sit there during the writing hour. But.
why don't you tell your papa about it ?"
* ' Because I don't like to tell tales, Aunt Adelaide,
and it would make your mamma so angry with me ;
and besides, I can't tell papa anything."
' Ah, I understand ! and no wonder ; he is-
strangely stern to the poor child. I mean to give
him a good talking to," murmured Adelaide, more
as if thinking aloud than talking to Elsie.
Then kissing the little girl again, she rose hastily
and left the room, with the intention of seekino- her
&
brother ; but he had gone out ; and when he returned
he brought several gentlemen with him, and she had
no opportunity until the desire to interfere in the,
matter had passed from her mind.
' And it shall come to pass, that before they call,,
I will answer, and while they are yet speaking, I will
hear.' The promise had been fulfilled to Elsie, and
help had been sent her in her trouble.
When her Aunt Adelaide left her, Elsie first
carefully locking the door to guard against a surprise
visit from Enna went to her bureau, and unlocking- a
O
drawer, took out a purse she was knitting for her fa-
ther, to replace the one she had given to Miss Allison.
She had commenced it before his return, and
having spent upon it nearly every spare moment
since, when she could feel secure from intrusion, she
now had it nearly completed. Ah ! many a silent
tear had fallen as she worked, and many a sigh over
ELSIE D INSHORE. 183
disappointed hopes had been woven into its bright
meshes of gold and blue.
But now she had been much comforted and en-
couraged by her aunt's sympathy and kind promise
of assistance, and, though there were still traces of
o
tears upon it, the little face looked quite bright and
cheerful ao;ain as she settled herself in her little sew-
O
Ing chair, and began her work.
The small white fino-ers moved rio-ht briskly, the
o o */ /
bright shining needles glancing in and out, while the
thoughts, quite as busy, ran on something in this
fashion : " Ah ! I am so sorry I have done so badly
tihe past month ; no wonder papa was vexed with
me. I don't believe I ever had such a bad report
before. What has come over me ? It seems as if I
can't study, and must have a holiday. I wonder if
it is all laziness ? I'm afraid it is, and that I ought
to be punished. I wish I could shake it off, and feel
industrious as I used to. I will try very hard to do
better this month, and perhaps I can. It is only one
month, and then June will be over, and Miss Day is
going North to spend July and August, and maybe
September, and so we shall have a long holiday.
Surely I can stand it one month more ; it will soon
be over, though it does seem a long time, and be-
sides, this month we are not to study so many hours,
because it is so warm ; and there's to be no school
on Saturdays ; none to-morrow, so that I can finish
this. Ah ! I wonder if papa will be pleased ?" and
she sighed deeply. " I'm afraid it will be a long, long
1 84 ELSIE DIN SHORE.
time before he will be pleased with me again. I have
displeased him twice this week first about the bird ?
and now this bad report, and that shameful copy-
book. But oh ! I will try so hard next month, and
dear Aunt Adelaide will keep Arthur from troubling
me, and I'm determined my copy-book shall look
neat, and not have a single blot in it.
1 ' I wonder how I shall spend the vacation ? Last
summer I had such a delightful visit at Ashlands ;
and then they were here all the rest of the time. It
was then poor Herbert had such a dreadful time with
his hip. Ah ! how thankful 1 ought to be that I am
not lame, and have always been so healthy. But I'm
afraid papa won't let me go there this summer, nor
ask them to visit me, because he said he thought
Lucy was not a suitable companion for me. I was
very naughty when she was here, and I've been
naughty a great many times since. Oh ! dear, shall
I never, never learn to be good ? It seems to me I
am naughty now much oftener than I used to be be-
fore papa came home. I'm afraid he will soon begin
to punish me severely, as he threatened to-day. I
wonder what he means ?"
A crimson tide suddenly swept over the fair face-
and neck, and dropping her work, she covered her
face with her hands. " Oh ! he couldn't, couldn't
mean that ! how could I ever bear it ! and yet if it
would make me really good, I think I wouldn't mind
the pain but the shame and disgrace ! oh ! it would
break my heart. I could never hold up my head
ELSIE DINSMORE. 185
.again ! Oh ! can lie mean that ? But I must just
try to be so very good that I will never deserve pun-
ishment, and then it will make no difference to me
what he means. ' And with this consolatory reflec-
tion she took up her work again.
" Mammy, is papa in his room ?" asked Elsie,' the
next afternoon, as she put the finishing touches to
her work.
" Xo, darlin', Marster Horace he rode out wid de
strange gentlemen more than an hour ago.'
Elsie laid her needles away in her work-basket, and
opening her writing-desk, selected a bit of note-paper,
on which she wrote in her very best hand, " A pres-
ent for my dear papa, from his little daughter
Elsie !" This she carefully pinned to the purse, and
then carried it to her papa's room, intending to leave
it oii his toilet-table.
Fearing that he might possibly have returned, she
knocked gently at the door, but receiving no answer,
opened it, and went in ; but she had not gone more
than halfway across the room when she heard his
voice behind her, asking, in a tone of mingled sur-
prise and displeasure, " What are you doing here in
my room, in my absence, Elsie ?"
She started, and turned round, pale and trembling,
and lifting her eyes pleadingly to his face, silently
placed the purse in his hand.
He looked first at it, and then at her.
" I made it for you, dear papa," she said, in a
low, tremulous tone ; "do please take it. ' :
1 86 ELSIE D1NSMORE.
" It is really very pretty,'' he said, examining it ;
4 * is it possible it is your work ? I had no idea you
had so much taste and skill. Thank you, daughter ;
I shall take it, and use it with a great deal of pleas-
ure. '
He took her hand as he spoke, and sitting down,
lifted her to his knee, saying, " Elsie, my child, why-
do you always seem so afraid of me ? I don't like it."
With a sudden impulse she threw her arms round
his neck, and pressed her lips to his cheek ; then,
dropping her head on his breast, she sobbed, " O
papa ! dear papa, I do love you so very dearly ! will
you not love me ? papa ! love me a little. I
know I've been naughty very often, but I will try to*
be good.'
Then for the first time he folded her in his arms
and kissed her tenderly, saying, in a moved tone,
" I do love you, my darling, my own little daughter.''
Oh ! the words were sweeter to Elsie's ear than the
most delicious music ! her joy was too great for
words, for anything but tears.
"Why do you cry so, my darling ?" he asked,
soothingly, stroking her hair, and kissing her again
and again.
'' papa ! because I am so happy, so very happy, n
she sobbed.
" Do you indeed care so very much for my love ?"
he asked ; " then, my daughter, you must not trem-
ble and turn pale whenever I speak to you, as though
I were a cruel tyrant.'
ELSIE DIN SHORE. 187
. .
papa ! I cannot help it, when you look and
speak so sternly. I love you so dearly I cannot bear
to have you angry with me ; but I am not afraid of
you now."
11 That is right," he said, caressing her again.
" But there is the tea-bell," he added, setting her
down. " Go into the dressing-room there, and bathe
your eyes, and then come to me."
She hastened to do his bidding, and then taking
her hand he led her down and seated her in her
usual place by his side.
There were visitors, and all his conversation was
addressed to them and the older members of the
family, but he now and then bestowed a kind look
upon his little girl, and attended carefully to all her
wants ; and Elsie was very happy.
Everything now went on very pleasantly with our
little friend for some days ; she did not see a great
deal of her father, as he was frequently away from
home for a day or two, and, when he returned, gener-
ally brought a number of visitors with him ; but
whenever he did notice her it was very kindly, and
she was gradually overcoming her fear of him, and
constantly hoping that the time would soon come
when he would have more leisure to bestow upon
her. She was happy now, and with a mind at ease,
was able to learn her lessons well ; and as her Aunt
Adelaide faithfully kept her promise, and thus freed
her from Arthur's annoyances, she was enabled to da
justice to her writing. She took great pains, her
1 88 ELSIE DIN SHORE.
copy-book showed a marked improvement in her pen-
manship, and its pages had not yet been defaced by
a single blot, so that she was looking forward with
pleasing anticipations to the time when her report
should again be presented to her father.
But, alas ! one unfortunate morning it happened
that Miss Day was in a very bad humor indeed
peevish, fretful, irritable, and unreasonable to the
last degree ; and, as usual, Elsie was the principal suf-
ferer from her ill-humor. She found fault with
everything the little girl did ; scolded her, shook her,
refused to explain the manner of working out a very
difficult example, or to permit her to apply to any one
else for assistance, and then punished her because it
was done wrong ; and when the child could no longer
keep back her tears, called her a baby for crying, and
a dunce for not understanding her arithmetic better.
All this Elsie bore meekly and patiently, not an-
swering a word ; but her meekness seemed only to
provoke the governess the more ; and finally, when
Elsie came to recite her last lesson, she took pains to
put her questions in the most perplexing form, and
scarcely allowing the child an instant to begin her
reply, answered them herself ; then, throwing down
the book, scolded her vehemently for her bad lesson,
and marked it in her report as a complete failure.
Poor Elsie could bear no more, but bursting into-
tears and sobs, said, ; ' Miss Day, I did know my les-
son, every word of it, if you had asked the questions
as usual, or had given me time to answer. ' :
ELSIE D1NSMORE. 189
u /say that you did not know it ; that it was a com-
plete failure," replied Miss Day, angrily ; " and you
shall just sit down and learn it, every word, over.'
" I do know it, if you will hear me right," said
Elsie, indignantly, " and it is very unjust in you to
mark it a failure."
" Impudence I' 1 exclaimed Miss Day, furiously ;
" how dare you contradict me ? I shall take you to
your father.''
And seizing her by the arm, she dragged her across
the room, and opening the door, pushed her into the
passage.
"Oh! don't, Miss Day," pleaded the little girl,
turning toward her, pale and tearful, " don't tell
papa."
" I will ! so just walk along with you,'' was the
angry rejoinder, as she pushed her before her to Mr.
Dinsmore's door. It stood open, and he sat at his
desk, writing.
/ ^
" What is the matter ?" he asked, looking up as
they appeared before the door.
" Elsie has been very impertinent, sir," said Miss
Day ; " she not only accused me of injustice, but
contradicted me flatly. '
"Is it possible!" said he, frowning angrily.
" Come here to me, Elsie, and tell me, is it true that
you contradicted your teacher ?"
" Yes, papa," sobbed the child.
" Very well, then, I shall certainly punish you, for
I will never allow anything of the kind.'
1 90 ELSIE D INSHORE.
As lie spoke lie picked up a small ruler that lay-
before him, at the same time taking Elsie's hand as
though he meant to use it on her.
11 papa !" she cried, in a tone of agonized en-
treaty.
But he laid it down again, saying, " Xo, I shall
punish you by depriving you of your play this after-
noon, and giving you only bread and water for your
dinner. Sit down there," he added, pointing to a
stool. Then, with a wave of his hand to the gov-
erness, " I think she will not be guilty of the like
again, Miss Day."
The governess left the room, and Elsie sat down
on her stool, crying and sobbing violently, while her
father \vent on with his writing.
O
" Elsie,' 1 he said, presently, " cease that noise ;
I have had quite enough of it. "
She struggled to suppress her sobs, but it was al-
most impossible, and she felt it a great relief when a
moment later the dinner-bell rang, and her father left
the room.
In a few moments a servant came in, carrying on a
small waiter a tumbler of \vater, and a plate with a
slice of bread on it.
" Dis am drefful poor fare, Miss Elsie, ' : ' he said,
setting it down beside her, " but Massa Horace he
say it all you can hab ; but if you say so, dis chile
tell ole Phoebe to send up somethin' better fore Massa
Horace gits through his dinner."
" Oh ! no, thank you, Pompey ; you're very kind,
ELSIE DIXSMORE. 191
"but I would not disobey or deceive papa, " replied the
little girl, earnestly ; " and I am not at all hungry.'
He lingered a moment, seeming loath to leave her
to dine upon such fare.
" You had better go now, Pompey," she said
gently ; "I am afraid you will be wanted."
He turned and left the room, muttering something
about " disagreeable, good-for-nothing Miss Day !"
Elsie felt no disposition to eat ; and when her fa-
ther returned, half an hour afterward, the bread and
water were still untouched.
" What is the meaning of this ?" he asked in a
o
stern, angry tone ; " why have you not eaten what
I sent you V
i/
" I am not hungry, papa," she said, humbly.
" Don't tell me that/' he replied, "it is nothing
but stubbornness ; and I shall not allow you to show
/
such a temper. Take up that bread this moment,
and eat it. You shall eat every crumb of the bread,
j
and drink every drop of the water.'
She obeyed him instantly, breaking off a bit of
bread and putting it in her mouth, while he stood
watching her with an air of stern, cold determina-
tion ; but when she attempted to swallow, it seemed
utterly impossible.
" I cannot, papa/' she said, " it chokes me.'
" You must" he replied ; "I am going to be
obeyed. Take a drink of water, and that will wash
/ '
it down."
It was a hard task, but seeing that there was no
192 ELSIE DINS MORE.
escape, she struggled to obey, and at length every
crumb of bread and drop of water had disappeared.
" Now, Elsie," said her father, in a tone of great
severity, ' ' never dare to show me such a temper as
this again ; you will not escape so easily next time ;
remember I am to be obeyed always ; and when I
send you anything to eat, you are to eat it. r
It had not been temper at all, and his unjust se-
verity almost broke her heart ; but she could not say
one word in her own defence.
He looked at her a moment as she sat there trem-
bling and weeping ; then saying, " I forbid you to
leave this room without my permission ; don't ven-
ture to disobey me, Elsie ; sit where you are until I
return," he turned to go.
" Papa/' she asked, pleadingly, " may I have my
books, to learn my lessons for to-morrow."
" Certainly," he said ; " I will send a servant with
them."
" And my Bible too, please, papa."
" Yes, yes," he answered impatiently, as he went
out and shut the door.
Jim was just bringing up Elsie's horse, as Mr.
Dinsmore passed through the hall, and he stepped out
to order it back to the stable, saying that Miss Elsie
was not going to ride.
" What is the trouble with Elsie ?" asked his sis-
ter Adelaide, as he returned to the drawing-room and
seated himself beside her.
She has been impertinent to her governess, and
( 4
ELSIE DINSMORE. 193
I have confined her to my room for the rest of the
*/
day, ' : ' he replied rather shortly.
' ' Are you sure, Horace, that Elsie was so much to
blame ?" asked his sister, speaking in a tone too low
to reach any ear but his. " I am certain, from what
Lora tells me, that Miss Day is often cruelly unjust
to her ; more so than to any other of her pupils."
He looked at her with a good deal of surprise.
11 Are vou not mistaken ?" he asked.
mf
" Xo ! it is a positive fact that she does at times
really abuse her.'
" Indeed ! I shall certainly not allow that." he
/ /
said, coloring with anger.
" But in this instance, Adelaide," he added,
thoughtfully, " I think you must be mistaken ; for
Elsie acknowledged that she had been impertinent.
I did not condemn her unheard, stern and severe as
you think me."
" If she was, Horace, believe me it must have
been only after great provocation, and her acknowl-
edgment of it is no proof at all, to my mind ; for
Elsie is so humble, she would think she must have
been guilty of impertinence if Miss Day accused her
of it."
' ' Surely not, Adelaide ; she is by no means want-
ing in sense,'* he replied, in atone of incredulity, not
unmixed with annovance.
/
Then he sat thinking a moment, half inclined to
go to his child and inquire more particularly into the
circumstances, but soon relinquished the idea, saying
194 ELSIE D INSHORE.
to himself, ' ' No ; if she does not choose to be frank
with me, and say what she can in her own defence,
she deserves to suffer ; and besides, she showed such
stubbornness about eatino- that bread."
O
He was very proud, and did not like to acknowl-
edge even to himself that he had punished his child
unjustly much less to her ; and it was not until near
tea-time that he returned to his room, entering so
softly that Elsie did not hear him.
She was sitting just where he had left her, bend-
ing over her Bible, an expression of sadness and deep
humility on the sweet little face, so young and fair
and innocent. She did not seem aware of his pres-
ence until he was close beside her, when, looking up
with a start, she said in a voice full of tears, " Dear
papa, I am very sorry for all my naughtiness ; will
you please forgive me ?' :
" Yes," he said, " certainly I will, if you are really
sorry ;" and stooping, he kissed her coldly, saying,
" Now go to your room, and let Chloe dress you
for tea.'
She rose at once, gathered up her books, and went
out.
The little heart was very sad ; for her father's man-
ner was so cold she feared he would never love her
again. And she was particularly distressed by the
bad mark given her for recitation that day, because
she knew the time was now drawing very near when
her report must be handed in to her papa ; and the
delight with which she had hitherto looked forward
ELSIE DINSMORE. 195
to receiving his well-merited approbation, was now
changed to fear, and dread of his displeasure ; yet
she knew she had not deserved the bad mark, and
again and again she determined that she would tell
her father all about it ; but his manner had now be-
come so cold and stern that she could not summon up
courage to do so, but put it off from day to day,
until it was too late.
Chapter Ciqbtfr.
or 1 ~' cj o
" He that pursues an act that is attended
With doubtful issues, for the means, had need
Of policy and force to make it speed.' 1
T. NABB'S Unfortunate Mother.
"Joy never feasts so high,
'As when the first course is of misery."
SUCKLING'S Aglaura.
IT was Friday, and the next morning was the time
when the reports were to be presented. School had
closed, and all but Elsie had already left the room ;
but she was carefully arranging the books, writing
and drawing materials, etc., in her desk, for she was
very neat and orderly in her habits.
When she had quite finished her work she took up
her report-book, and glanced over it. As her eye
rested for an instant upon the one bad mark, she
sighed a little, and murmured to herself, "I am .so
sorry : I wish papa knew how little I really deserved
it. I don't know why I never can get the courage to
tell him."
Then, laying it aside, she opened her copy-book and
turned over the leaves with unalloyed pleasure, for
not one of its pages was defaced by a single blot,
and from beginning to end it gave evidence of pains-
taking carefulness and decided improvement.
ELSIE DIN SHORE. 197
" Ah ! surely this will please dear papa !" she ex-
claimed, half aloud. " How good Aunt Adelaide
was to sit here with me !"
Then, putting* it carefully in its place, she closed
and locked the desk, and carrying the key to her
room, laid it on the mantel, where she was in the
habit of keeping it.
Now it so happened that afternoon that Arthur,
who had made himself sick by over-indulgence in
sweetmeats, and had in consequence been lounging
about the house doing nothing for the last day or
two, remained at home while all the rest of the family
were out, walking, riding, or visiting.
He was not usually very fond of reading, but while
lying on the lounge in the nursery, very much in
want of some amusement, it suddenly occurred to
him that he would like to look at a book he had seen
Elsie reading that morning.
To be sure the book belonged to her, and she was
not there to be consulted as to her willingness to
lend it ; but that made no difference to Arthur, who
had very little respect for the rights of property, ex-
cepting where his own were concerned.
Elsie, he knew, was out, and Chloe in the kitchen ;
so, feeling certain there would be no one to interfere
with him, he Avent directly to the little girl's room to
look for the book. He soon found it lying on the
mantel ; but the desk-key lay right beside it, and as
he caught sight of that he gave a half scream of de-
light, for he guessed at once to what lock it belonged,
198 ELSIE DIN SHORE.
and felt that he now could accomplish the revenge he
had plotted ever since the affair of the watch.
He put out his hand to take it, but drew it back
again, and stood for a moment balancing in his mind
the chances of detection.
He could deface Elsie's copy-book, but Adelaide
could testify to the little girl's carefulness, and the
neatness of her work up to that very day, for she had
been in the school-room that morning during the
writing hour. But then Adelaide had just left home
to pay a visit to a friend living at some distance, and
would not return for several weeks, so there was little-
danger from that quarter. Miss Day, to be sure,
knew the appearance of Elsie's book quite as well,
but there was still less danger of her interference,
and he was pretty certain no one else knew.
So he decided to run the risk, and laying down
the book he took the key, went to the door, looked
carefully up and down the hall to make sure of not
being seen by any of the servants, and having satis-
fied himself on that point, hurried to the school room,
unlocked Elsie's desk, took out her copy-book, and
dipping a pen in the ink, proceeded deliberately to
blot nearly every page in it ; on some he made a
large blot, on others a small one, and on some two or
three ; and also scribbled between the lines and on
the margin, so as completely to deface poor Elsie's
work.
But to do Arthur justice, though he knew his bro-
ther would be pretty sure to be very angry with
ELSIE DINS MO RE. 199
Elsie, lie did not know of the threatened punish-
ment. He stopped once or twice as he thought he
heard a footstep, and shut down the lid until it had
passed, when he raised it again and went on with his
wicked work. It did not take long, however, and- he
soon replaced the copy-book in the precise spot in
which he had found it, wiped the pen, and put it
carefully back in its place, relocked the desk, hurried
back to Elsie's room, put the key just where he had
found it, and taking the book, returned to the nursery
without having met any one.
He threw himself down on a couch and tried to
read, but in vain ; he could not fix his attention upon
the page could think of nothing but the mischief
he had done, and its probable consequences ; and
now, when it was too late, he more than half repent-
ed ; yet as to confessing and thus saving Elsie from
unmerited blame, he did not for a single moment en-
O
tertain the thought. But at length it suddenly oc-
curred to him that if it became known that he had been
into Elsie's room to get the book he might be sus-
pected ; and he started up with the intention of
replacing it. But he found that it was too late ; she
had already returned, for he heard her voice in the
*/
hall ; so he lay down again, and kept the book until
she came in search of it.
He looked very guilty as the little girl came in,
but not seeming to notice it, she merely said, " I am
looking for my book. I thought perhaps some one
might have brought it in here. Oh ! you have it,
200 ELSIE DIN SHORE.
Arthur ! well, keep it, if you wish ; I can read it
just as well another time."
' ' Here, take it," said lie roughly, pushing it toward
her ; " I don't want it ; 'tisn't a bit pretty."
" I think it is very interesting, and you are quite
welcome to read it if you wish,' she answered
/
mildly ; " but if you don't care to, I will take it."
" Young ladies and gentlemen," said the governess,
as they were about closing their exercises the next
morning, ' ' this is the regular day for the reports, and
they are all made out. Miss Elsie, here is yours ;
bring your copy-book, and carry both to your papa.''
Elsie obeyed, not without some trembling, yet
hoping, as there was but one bad mark in the report
and the copy-book showed such evident marks of
care and painstaking, her papa would not be very
seriously displeased.
It being the last day of the term, the exercises of
the morning had varied somewhat from the usual
routine, and the writing hour had been entirely
omitted ; thus it happened that Elsie had not opened
her copy-book, and was in consequence still in igno-
rance of its sadly altered appearance.
She found her father in his room. He took the
report first from her hand, and glancing over it, said
with a slight frown, " I see you have one very bad
mark for recitation ; but as there is only one, and the
others are remarkably good, I will excuse it."
Then taking the copy-book and opening it, much
to Elsie's surprise and alarm he gave her a glance of
ELSIE DINSMORE. 201
great displeasure, turned rapidly over the leaves, then
laving it down, said in his sternest tones. " I see I
*/ O
shall have to keep my promise, Elsie.'
" What, papa ?" she asked, turning pale with
terror.
11 What!" said he ; " do you ask me what ? Did
I not tell you positively that I would punish you if
your copy-book this month did not present a better
appearance than it did last ?"
' ' papa ! does it not ? I tried so very hard ;
and there are no blots in it.'
" No blots ?" said he ; " what do you call these ?"
and he turned over the leaves again, holding- the book
so that she could see them, and showing that almost
every one was blotted in several places.
Elsie gazed at them in unfeigned astonishment ;
then looking up into his face, she said earnestly but
fearfully, " Papa, I did not do it."
" Who did, then ?" he asked.
" Indeed, papa, I do not know," she replied.
" I must inquire into this business,' 1 he said, ris-
ing, and if it is not your fault you shall not be pun-
ished ; but if I find you have been telling me a false-
hood, Elsie, I shall punish you much more severely
than if you had not denied your fault.'
And taking her by the hand as he spoke, he led
her back to the school-room.
11 Miss Day," said he, showing the book, "Elsie
says these blots are not her work ; can you tell me
whose they are ?"
202 ELSIE DINS MO RE.
11 Miss Elsie generally tells the truth, sir," replied
Miss Day, sarcastically, " but I must say that in this
instance I think she has failed, as her desk has a
good lock, and she herself keeps the key."
" Elsie, " he asked, turning to her, " is this so ?"
" Yes, papa."
" And have you ever left your desk unlocked, or
the key lying about ?"
" No, papa. I am quite certain I have not," she
answered unhesitatingly, though her voice trembled,
and she grew very pale.
" Very well then, / am quite certain you have told
me a falsehood, since it is evident this must have
been your work. Elsie, I can forgive anything but
falsehood, but that I never will forgive. Come
with me. I shall teach you to speak the truth to
me, at least, if to no one else,' 1 and taking her hand
again, he led, or rather dragged, her from the room,
for he was terribly angry, his face fairly pale with
passion.
Lora came in while he was speaking, and, certain
that Elsie would never be caught in a falsehood, her
eye quickly sought Arthur's desk.
He was sitting there with a very guilty countenance.
She hastily crossed the room, and speaking in a
low tone, said, " Arthur, you have had a hand in this
business I very well know ; now confess it quickly,
or Horace will half kill Elsie."
11 You don't know anything about it," said he
doggedly.
ELSIE DIN SHORE. 203
. .
Yes, I do," she answered ; * and if you do not
speak out at once, / shall save Elsie, and find means
to prove your guilt afterward ; so you had much bet-
ter confess."
" Go away," he exclaimed angrily, " I have noth-
ing to confess."
O
Seeing it was useless to try to move him, Lora
turned away and hurried to Horace's room, which,
in her haste, she entered without knocking, he having
fortunately neglected to fasten the door. She was
just in time ; he had a small riding whip in his hand,
and Elsie stood beside him pale as death, too much
frightened even to cry, and trembling so that she
could scarcely stand.
He turned an angry glance on his sister as she
-entered ; but taking no notice of it, she exclaimed
eagerly, " Horace, don't punish Elsie, for I am cer-
tain she is innocent."
He laid down the whip, asking, " How do you
know it ? what proof have you ? I shall be very glad
to be convinced," he added, his countenance relax-
ing somewhat in its stern and angry expression.
" In the first place," replied his sister, " there is
Elsie's established character for truthfulness in all
the time she has been with us, we have ever found
her perfectly truthful in word and deed. And then,
Horace, what motive could she have had for spoiling
her book, knowing as she did that certain punish-
ment would follow ? Besides, I am sure Arthur is at
the bottom of this, for though he will not acknowl-
204 ELSIE DINS MORE.
ed^e, he does not deny it. Ah ! yes, and now I recoL
o * / /
lect, I saw and examined Elsie's book only yesterday,,
and it was then quite free from blots."
A great change had come over her brother's coun-
tenance while she was speaking.
11 Thank you, Lora," he said cordially, as soon as
she had done, " you have quite convinced me, and
saved me from punishing Elsie as unjustly as severely.
That last assurance I consider quite sufficient of itself
to establish her innocence."
Lora turned and went out feeling very happy, and
as she closed the door, Elsie's papa took her in his
arms, saying in loving, tender tones, " My poor little
daughter ! my own darling child ! I have been
cruelly unjust to you, have I not ?"
" Dear papa, you thought I deserved it," she said,
with a burst of tears and sobs, throwing her arms
around his neck, and laying her head on his breast.
" Do you love me, Elsie, dearest ?" he asked, fold-
ing her closer to his heart.
O
" Ah ! so very, very much ! better than all the
world beside. O papa ! if you would only love me."
The last word was almost a sob.
" I do, my darling, my own precious child," he
said, caressing her again and again. " I do love my
little girl, although I may at times seem cold and
stern ; and I am more thankful than words can ex-
press that I have been saved from punishing her un-
justly. I could never forgive myself if I had done it.
I would rather have lost half I am worth ; ah ! I fear
ELSIE DINSMORE. 205
it would have turned all her love for me into hatred ;
and justly, too."
" No, papa, oh ! no, no! nothing could ever do
that !" and the little arms were clasped closer and
closer about his neck, and the tears again fell like
rain, as she timidly pressed her quivering lips to his
cheek.
' ' There, there daughter ! don't cry any more ; we
will try to forget all about it, and talk of something*
else," he said soothingly. " Elsie, dear, your Aunt
Adelaide thinks perhaps you were not so very much
to blame the other day ; and now I want you to-
tell me all the circumstances ; for though I should
be very sorry to encourage you to find fault with
your teacher, I am by no means willing to have you
abused."
" Please, papa, don't ask me," she begged. " Aunt
Lora was there, and she will tell you about it."
"No, Elsie,'" he said, very decidedly, "I want
the story from you, ; and remember, I want every
word that passed between you and Miss Day, as far
as you can possibly recall it.'
Seeing that he was determined, Elsie obeyed him,
though with evident reluctance, and striving to put
Miss Day's conduct in as favorable a light as consist-
ent with truth, while she by no means extenuated
her own ; yet her father listened with feelings of
strong indignation.
" Elsie," he said when she had done, " if I had
known all this at the time, I should not have pun-
206 ELSIE DINS MO RE.
ished you at all. Why did you not tell me, rny
daughter, how you have been ill treated and pro-
Yoked ?"
" O papa ! I could not ; you know you did not
ask me.'
" I did ask you if it was true that you contra-
dicted her, did I not ?"
" Yes, papa, and it was true.'
" You ouo-ht to have told me the whole storv
v
though ; but I see how it was I frightened you
by my sternness. Well, daughter," he added, kiss-
ing her tenderly, " I shall endeavor to be less stern
in future, and you must try to be less timid and
more at your ease with me.'
" I will, papa," she replied meekly ; " but indeed
1 cannot help feeling frightened when you are angry
with me.'
Mr. Dinsmore sat there a long time with his little
daughter on his knee, caressing her more tenderly
than ever before ; and Elsie was very happy, and
talked more freely to him than she had ever done,
telling him of her joys and her sorrows ; how dearly
she had loved Miss Allison what happy hours they
had spent together in studying the Bible and in
prayer how grieved she was when her friend went
away and how intensely she enjoyed the little letter
now and then received from her ; and he listened to
it all, apparently both pleased and interested, encour-
aging her to go on by an occasional question or a
word of assent or approval.
ELSIE DIN SHORE. 207
" What is this, Elsie ?" he asked, taking hold of
the chain she always wore around her neck, and
drawing the miniature from her bosom.
But as he touched the spring and the case flew
open, revealing the sweet, girlish face, it needed not
Elsie's low murmured " Mamma" to tell him who
that lovely lady was.
He gazed upon it with emotion, carried back in
memory to the time when for a few short months she
had been his own most cherished treasure. Then,
looking from it to his child, he murmured, " Yes,
she is very like the same features, the same ex-
pression, complexion, hair and all will be the very
counterpart of her if she lives.' 1
" Dear papa, am I like mamma ?" asked Elsie,
who had caught a part of his words.
" Yes, darling, very much indeed, and I hope you
will grow more so."
" You loved mamma ?" she said inquiringly.
" Dearly, very dearly.' 1
" O papa ! tell me about her ! do, dear papa/*
she pleaded eagerly.
" I have not much to tell,' 1 ' he said, sighing. " I
knew her only for a few short months ere we were
torn asunder, never to meet again on earth.'
" But we may hope to meet her in heaven, dear
papa," said Elsie softly, " for she loved Jesus, and if
we love Him we shall go there too when we die.
Do you love Jesus, papa ?" she timidly inquired, for
she had seen him do a number of things which she
2o8 ELSIE DINSMORE.
knew to be wrong such as riding out for pleasure
on the Sabbath, reading secular newspapers, and en'
gaging in worldly conversation and she greatl)
feared he did not.
But instead of answering her question, he asked,
"Do you, Elsie?"
" Oh ! yes, sir ; very, very much ; even better
than I love you, my own dear papa.'
u How do you know ?" he asked, looking keenly
into her face.
" Just as I know that I love you, papa, or any one
else," she replied, lifting her eyes to his face in evi-
dent surprise at the strangeness of the question.
*' Ah, papa," she added in her own sweet, simple
way, "I do so love to talk to Jesus ; to tell Him all
my troubles, and ask Him to forgive my sins and
make me holy ; and then it is so sweet to know that
He loves me, and will always love me, even if no one
else does."
He kissed her very gravely, and set her down, say-
ing, " Go now, my daughter, and prepare for dinner ;
it is almost time for the bell."
" You are not displeased, papa ?" she inquired,
looking up anxiously into his face.
" No, darling, not at all," he replied, stroking her
hair. " Shall 1 ride with my little girl this after-
noon ?"
" papa ! do you really mean it ? I shall be so
glad !" she exclaimed joyfully.
" Very well, then,'" he said, "it is settled. But
ELSIE DINSMORE. 209
go now ; there is the bell. No, stay," he added quick-
ly, as she turned to obey ; " think a moment and
tell me where you put the key of your desk yester-
day, for it must have been then the mischief W33
done. Had you it with you when you rode out ?"
Suddenly Elsie's face flushed, and she exclaimed
eagerly, " Ah ! I remember now ! I left it on the
mantel-piece, papa, and "
But here she paused, as if sorry she had said so
much.
" And what ?" he asked.
" I think I had better not say it, papa ! I'm afraid
I ought not, for I don't really know anything, and
it seems so wrong to suspect people.' 1
" You need not express any suspicions," said her
father ; "I do not wish you to do so ; but I must
insist upon having all the facts you can furnish me
with. Was Aunt Chloe in your room all the time
you were away ?"
" Xo, sir ; she told me she went down to the
kitchen directly after I left, and did not come up
again until after I returned.'
" Very well ; do you know whether any one else-
entered the room during your absence ?"
"I do not know, papa, but I think Arthur must
have been in, because when I came home I found
him reading a book which I had left lying on the
mantel- piece," she answered in a low, reluctant tone.
" Ah, ha ! that is just it ! I see it all now," he ex-
claimed, with a satisfied nod. " There, that will do,
210 ELSIE DIN SHORE.
Elsie ; go now and make haste down to your din-
ner. '
But Elsie lingered, and, in answer to a look of
kind inquiry from her father, said coaxingly, " Please,
papa, don't be very angry with him. I think he did
not know how much I cared about my book.' 1
" You are very forgiving, Elsie ; but go, child, I
shall not abuse him," Mr. Dinsmore answered, with
an imperative gesture, and the little girl hurried from
the room.
It happened that just at this time the elder Mr.
Dinsmore and his wife were paying a visit to some
friends in the city, and thus Elsie's papa had been
left head of the house for the time. Arthur, know-
ing this to be the state of affairs, and that though his
father was expected to return that evening, his mother
would be absent for some days, was beginning to be
a good deal fearful of the consequences of his mis-
conduct, and not without reason, for his brother's
wrath was now fully aroused, and he was determined
that the boy should not on this occasion escape the
penalty of his misdeeds.
Arthur was already in the dining-room when Mr.
Dinsmore came down.
" Arthur," said he, " I wish you to step into the
library a moment ; I have something to say to you.'
" I don't want to hear it," muttered the boy, with
a dogged look, and standing perfectly still.
" I dare say not, sir ; but that makes no difference,"
replied his brother. " Walk into the library at once.*'
ELSIE DINSMORE. 211
Arthur returned a scowl of defiance, muttering-
almost under his breath, " I'll do as I please about
that ;" but cowed by his brother's determined look
r
and manner, he slowly and reluctantly obeyed.
" Now, sir," said Mr. Dinsmore, when he had him
fairly in the room, and had closed the door behind
them, " I wish to know how you came to meddle
with Elsie's copy-book.'
11 I didn't,'' was the angry rejoinder.
" Take care, sir ; I know all about it," said Mr,
Dinsmore, in a warning tone ; " it is useless for you
to deny it. Yesterday, while Elsie was out and Aunt
Chloe in the kitchen, you went to her room, took the-
key of her desk from the mantel-piece where she had
left it, went to the school-room and did the mischief,
hoping to get her into trouble thereby, and then, re-
locking the desk and returning the key to its proper
place, thought you had escaped detection ; and I was-
very near giving my poor, innocent little girl the
whipping you so richly deserve. ' :
Arthur looked up in astonishment.
" Who told you ?" he asked ; " nobody saw me ;"'
then, catching himself, said hastily, " I tell you J
didn't do it. I don't know anything about it."
' ' AVill you dare to tell me such a falsehood as that
again ?" exclaimed Mr. Dinsmore, angrily, taking*
him by the collar and shaking him roughly.
" Let me alone now, ' : whined the culprit. " I
want my dinner, I say.'
" You'll get no dinner to-day, I can tell you,"
212 ELSIE DINSMORE.
replied his brother. " I am going to lock you into
jour bedroom, and keep you there until your father
comes home ; and then if he doesn't give you the
flogging you deserve, / will ; for I intend you shall
have your deserts for once in your life. I know that
all this is in revenge for Elsie's forced testimony in
the affair of the watch, and I gave you fair warning-
then that I would see to it that any attempt to abuse
my child should receive its just reward.*'
He took the boy by the arm as he spoke, to lead
3ii m from the room.
At first Arthur seemed disposed to resist ; but soon,
seeing how useless it was to contend against such
odds. heresio-ned himself to his fate, saving sullenly,
j / i.j %j *
" You wouldn't treat me this way if mamma was at
home.'
" She is not, however, as it happens, though I can
tell you that even she could not save you now, r
replied his brother, as he opened the bedroom door,
and pushing him in, locked it upon him, and put the
key in his pocket.
Mr. Horace Dinsmore had almost unbounded influ-
ence over his father, who was very proud of him ;
the old gentleman also utterly despised everything
mean and underhanded, and upon being made ac-
quainted by Horace with Arthur's misdemeanors he
indicted upon him as severe a punishment as any-
one could have desired.
Hintf,
" Keep the Sabbath day to sanctify it, as the Lord thy God hath
commanded thee." Deut. v. 12.
" She is mine own ;
And I as rich in having such a jewel
As twenty seas, if all their sand were pearl,
The water nectar, and the rocks pure gold/'
SHAKSPEARE, Two Gentlemen of Verona.
AND now happy days had come to the little Elsie.
Her father treated her with the tenderest affection,
and kept her with him almost constantly, seeming
scarcely willing to have her out of his sight for an
hour. He took her with him wherever he went in
his rides and walks and visits to the neio-hborino-
O O
planters.
She was much admired for her beauty and sweet-
ness of disposition, much caressed and nattered, but,
through it all, lost none of her native modesty, but
was ever the same meek, gentle little girl. She felt
grateful for all the kindness she received, and liked to
visit with her papa ; buther happiest days were spent
at home on those rare occasions when they were free
from visitors, and she could sit for hours on his knee,
or by his side, talking or reading to him, or working
214 ELSIE DINSMORE.
at her embroidery, or knitting and listening while he
read. He helped her with all her studies, taught her
something of botany and geology in their walks,
helped her to see and correct the faults of her draw-
ings, sang with her when she played, bought her
quantities of new music, and engaged the best mas-
ters to instruct her in short, took a lively interest
in all her pursuits and pleasures, gave her every in-
dulgence, and lavished upon her the tenderest caresses.
He was very proud of her beauty, her sweetness, her
intelligence, and talent ; and nothing pleased him
better than to hear them spoken of by others in
terms of praise.
And Elsie was very happy ; the soft eyes grew
bright with happiness, and the little face lost its
pensive expression, and became as round t rosy and
merry as Enna's.
Miss Day went North, expecting to be absent sev-
eral months, and Elsie's papa took her travelling,
spending some time at different watering-places. It
was her first journey since she had been old enough
to care for such things, and she enjoyed it exceed-
ingly. They left home in July, and did not return
until September, so that the little girl had time to-
rest and recruit, both mentally and physically, and
was ready to begin her studies again with zeal and
energy ; yet it was so pleasant to be her papa's con-
stant companion, and she had so enjoyed her freedom
from the restraints of the school-room, that she was
not at all sorry to learn, on their arrival at Roselands ?
ELSIE DINSMORE. 215
that the governess would still be absent for some
weeks.
" How bright and happy the child looks !" was
Adelaide's remark on the day of their return, as, from
the opposite side of the room, she watched the speak-
ing countenance of the little girl, who was giving
Enna and the boys an animated description of her
journey.
" Yes," said Lora, " and how entirely she seems
to have overcome her fear of her father !" for at that
instant Elsie suddenly left the little group, and run-
ning to him, leaned confidingly on his knee, while
apparently urging some request, which he answered
with a smile and a nod of acquiescence ; when she
left the room, and presently returned carrying a richly
bound book of engravings.
C3 O
Yes, Elsie had lost her fear of her father, and could
now talk to him, and tell him her feelings and wishes.
7 O
as freely as ever Enna did ; and no wonder, for in all
these weeks he had never given her one harsh word
or look ; but indeed he had had no occasion to do
so, for she was always docile and obedient.
It was Sabbath afternoon the first Sabbath after
their return and Elsie was in her own room alone
with the books she loved best her Bible, hymn-
book, and " Pilgrim's Progress."
She had spent a very happy hour in self-examina-
tion, reading, and prayer, and was singing to herself
in a lo\v tone her favorite hymn,
" I lay my sins on Jesus/ *j
216 ELSIE DINSMORE.
while turning over the leaves of her Bible to find the
story of Elijah, which she had promised to read to
Chloe that afternoon, when a child's footsteps were
heard coming down the hall, the handle of the door
was turned hastily, and then, as it refused to yield,
Enna's voice called out in a fretful, imperious tone,
" Open this door, Elsie Dinsmore. I want in, I say."
Elsie sighed, as she thought, " There is an end to
my nice afternoon," but she rose at once, and quickly
crossing the room, opened the door, asking pleasant-
ly, " What do you want, Enna 2"
" I told you I wanted to come in, '' replied Enna,
saucily, " and now you've got to tell me a story to
amuse me ; mamma says so, because you know I've
got a cold, and she won't let me go out.'
" Well, Enna," said Elsie, patiently, " I am going
to read a very beautiful story to mammy, and you
are quite welcome to sit here and listen. ' :
" I sha'n't have it read ! I said you were to tell
it. I don't like to hear reading," replied Enna in
her imperious way, at the same time taking quiet
possession of Elsie's little rosewood rocking-chair a
late present from her papa, and highly prized by the
little girl on that account and beginning to scratch
with her thumb nail upon the arm.
" Oh ! don't scratch my pretty new chair, Enna !"
Elsie entreated ; " it is papa's present, and I wouldn't
have it spoiled for a great deal.'
" I will : who cares for your old chair ?" was the
reply in a scornful tone, as she gave another anc$
ELSIE DINSMORE. 217
harder disc with her nail. " You're a little old maid
o
so particular with all your things that's what
oiamma says you are. Now tell me that story. v
* ' I will tell you a story if you will stop scratching-
my chair, Enna," said Elsie, almost with tears in her
eyes. " I will tell you about Elijah on Mount Car-
mel, or Belshazzar's feast, or the children in the fiery
furnace, or "
" I sha'n't hear any of those ! I don't want any
of your old Bible stories,"' interrupted Enna, inso-
lently. * ' You must tell me that pretty fairy tale Her-
bert Carrino-ton is so fond of."
O
" No, Enna ; I cannot tell you that to-day, 19 re-
plied Elsie, speaking gently, but very firmly.
" I say you shall /" screamed Enna, springing to
her feet. " I'll just go and tell mamma, and she'll
make you do it. "
" Stay, Enna," said Elsie, catching her hand to de-
tain her ; " I will tell you any story I know that is
suitable for the Sabbath ; but I cannot tell the fairy
tale to-day, because you know it would be wrong. I
will tell it to you to-morrow, though, if you will wait."
11 You're a bad girl, and I'll just tell mamma of
you,'' exclaimed Enna, passionately, jerking her
hand away and darting from the room.
" Oh ! if papa was only at home," sighed Elsie,
sinking into her rocking-chair, pale and trembling ;
but she knew that he had gone out riding, and would
probably not return for some time ; he had invited
I'.er to accompany him, but she had beg'ged to be al-
218 ELSIE DINSMORE.
lowed to stay at home, and he had let her have her
wish.
As she feared, she was immediately summoned to
Mrs. Dinsmore's presence.
" Elsie," said that lady, severely, " are you not
ashamed of yourself, to refuse Enna such a small
favor ? especially when the poor child is not well.
I must say you are the most selfish, disobliging child
I ever saw.'
" I offered to tell her a Bible story, or anything
suitable for the Sabbath day, ' ' replied Elsie, meekly,
" but I cannot tell the fairy tale, because it would be
wrong. '
" Nonsense ! there's no harm at all in telling
fairy tales to-day, any more than any other day ;
that is just an excuse, Elsie," said Mrs. Dinsmore
angrily.
" I don't want her old Bible stories. I won't have
them. I want that pretty fairy tale," sobbed Enna
passionately ; " make her tell it, mamma."
" Come, come, what is all this fuss about ?" asked
the elder Mr. Dinsmore, coming in from an adjoining
room.
" Xothing,' said his wife, "except that Enna
is not well enough to go out, and wants a fairy
story to pass away the time, which Elsie alone is
acquainted with, but is too lazy or too self-willed to
relate."
He turned angrily to his little granddaughter.
Ah ! indeed, is that it ? Well, there is an old
. .
ELSIE DINSMORE. 219
saying, ' A bird that can sing, and won't sing, must
be made to sing. '
Elsie was opening her lips to speak, but Mrs. Dins-
more bade her be silent, and then went on. " She
pretends it is all on account of conscientious scru-
ples. ' It isn't fit for the Sabbath,* she says. Now
1 say it is a great piece of impertinence for a child
of her years to set up her opinion against yours and
mine ; and I know very well it is nothing but an
excuse, because she doesn't choose to be obliging."
" Of course it is ; nothing in the world but au
excuse," responded Mr. Dinsmore, hotly.
Elsie's face flushed, and she answered a little
indignantly,
" No, grandpa, indeed it is not merely an excuse,
but"
" Do you dare to contradict me, you impertinent
little hussy !" cried the old gentleman, interrupting
her in the middle of her sentence ; and catchino- her
o
by the arm, he shook her violently ; then picking her
up and setting her down hard upon a chair, he said,
" Now, miss, sit you there until your father comes
home, then we will see what he thinks of such im-
pertinence ; and if he doesn't give you the complete
whipping you deserve, I miss my guess."
11 Please, grandpa, I "
" Hold your tongue ! don't dare to speak another
word until your father comes home," said he, threat-
eningly. " If you don't choose to say what you're
wanted to, you shall not talk at all.' :
220 ELSIE DINSMORE.
Then, going to the door, he called a &tV->*VK ,*
bade him tell " Mr. Horace," as soon as he returned,
that he wished to see him.
For the next half-hour aal a very long cue it
seemed to her Elsie sat there wishing for, and yet
dreading her father's coming. Would he inflict upon
her the punishment which her grandfather evidently
wished her to receive, without pausing to inquire into-
the merits of the case ? or would he listen patiently
to her story ? And even if he did, might he not
still think her deserving of punishment ? She could
not answer these questions to her own satisfaction.
A few months ao-o she would have been certain of a
O
very severe chastisement, and even now she trembled
/
with fear ; for though she knew beyond a doubt that
he loved her dearly, she knew also that he was a strict
and severe disciplinarian, and never excused her
faults.
At last her ear caught the sound of his step in the
hall, and her heart beat fast and faster as it drew
nearer, until he entered, and addressing his father,
asked, " Did you wish to see me, sir ?"
" Yes, Horace, I want you to attend to this girl,"
replied the old gentleman, with a motion of the head
toward Elsie. " She has been very impertinent to
me."
* * What ! Elsie impertinent ! is it possible ? I cer-
tainly expected better things of her."
His tone expressed great surprise, and turning to
his little daughter, he regarded her with a grave, sad
ELSIE DINSMORE. 221
loo& that brought the tears to her eyes : dearly as
she loved him, it seemed almost harder to bear than
the old expression of stern severity.
" It is hard to believe." he said, " that mv little
i/
Elsie would be guilty of such conduct ; but if she-
has been, of course she must be punished, for I can-
not allow anything of the kind. Go, Elsie, to my
dressing-room and remain there until I come to you.' 1
" Papa " she began, bursting into tears.
" Hush !" he said, with something of the old stern-
7 O
ness ; ' ' not a word ; but obey me instantly. '
Then, as Elsie went sobbing from the room, he-
seated himself , and turning to his father, said, " Xow,
sir, if you please, I should like to hear the whole
story ; precisely what Elsie has done and said, and
what was the provocation ; for that must also be taken
into the account, in order that I may be able to do
her justice."
" If you do her justice, you will whip her well,"'
remarked his father in a tone of asperity.
Horace colored violently, for nothing aroused his-
* 7
ire sooner than any interference between him and his
child ; but controlling himself, he replied quite calm-
ly, " If I find her deserving of punishment, I will
not spare her ; but I should be sorry indeed to pun-
ish her unjustly. Will you be so good as to tell m&
what she has done ?"
Mr. Dinsmore referred him to his wife for the com-
mencement of the trouble, and she made out as bad
a case against Elsie as possible : but even then there
222 ELSIE DIN SHORE.
seemed to her father to be very little to condemn ;
and when Mrs. Dinsmore was obliged to acknowledge
that it was Elsie's refusal to humor Enna in her desire
for a particular story which Elsie thought it not best
to relate on the Sabbath, he bit his lip with vexation,
and told her in a haughty tone, that though he did
not approve of Elsie's strict notions regarding such
matters, yet he wished her to understand that his
dauo-hter was not to be made a slave to Enna's whims.
o
If she chose to tell her a story, or to do anything else
for her amusement, he had no objection, but she was
never to be forced to do it against her inclination,
and Enna must understand that it was done as a
favor, and not at all as her right.
" You are right enough there, Horace," remarked
his father, " but that does not excuse Elsie for her
impertinence to me. In the first place, I must say I
a^ree with my wife in thinking it quite a piece of
impertinence for a child of her years to set up her
opinion against mine ; and besides, she contradicted
me flatly.'
He then went on to repeat what he had said, and
Elsie's denial of the charge, using her exact words,
but quite a different tone, and suppressing the fact
that he had interrupted her before she had finished
her sentence.
Elsie's tone, though slightly indignant, had still
O O /
been respectful, but from her grandfather's rehearsal
of the scene her father received the impression that
she had been exceedingly saucy, and he left the room
ELSIE DINSMORE. 225
with the intention of giving her almost as severe a pun-
ishment as her grandfather would have prescribed.
On the way up to his room, however, his anger had
a little time to cool, and it occurred to him that it
would be no more than just to hear her side of the
story ere he condemned her.
Elsie was seated on a couch at the far side of the
room, and as he entered she turned on him a tearful,,
pleading look, that went straight to his heart.
His face was grave and sad, but there was very
little sternness in it, as he sat down and took her irt
his arms.
For a moment he held her without speaking, while-
she lifted her eyes timidly to his face. Then he said,
as he gently stroked the hair back from her fore-
head, " I am very sorry, very sorry indeed, to hear
so bad an account of my little daughter. I am afraid
I shall have to punish her, and I don't like to do it.'
She answered not a word, but burst into tears, and
hiding her face on his breast, sobbed aloud.
" I will not condemn you unheard, Elsie," he said
after a moment's pause ; " tell me how you came to-
be so impertinent to your grandfather. '
" I did not mean to be saucy, papa, indeed I did
not," she sobbed.
" Stop crying then, daughter," he said kindly,
" and tell me all about it. I know there was some
trouble between you and Enna, and I want you to tell
me all that occurred, and every word spoken by either
of you, as well as all that passed between Mrs. Dins-
224 ELSIE DINS MO RE.
more, your grandfather, and yourself. I am very
glad that I can trust my little girl to speak the truth.
I am quite sure she would not tell a falsehood even to
save herself from punishment,' 1 he added tenderly.
" Thank you, dear papa, for saying that," said
Elsie, raising her head and almost smiling through
her tears. " I will try to tell it just as it happened.'
She then told her story simply and truthfully, re-
peating, as he bade her, every word that had passed
between Enna and herself, and between her and her
grandparents. Her words to her grandfather sound-
ed very different, repeated in her quiet, respectful
t^nes ; and when she added that if he would have al-
lowed her, she was going on to explain that it was not
any unwillingness to oblige Enna, but the fear of doing
Avrong, that led her to refuse her request, her father
thought that arfter all she deserved very little blame.
" Do you think I was very saucy, papa ?" she
.asked anxiously, when she had finished her story.
" So much depends upon the tone, Elsie," he said,
*' that I can hardly tell : if you used the same tone
in speaking to your grandpa that you did in repeat-
ing your words to me just now, I don't think it was
very impertinent ; though the words themselves were
not as respectful as they ought to have been. You
must always treat my father quite as respectfully as
you do me ; and I think with him, too, that there is
something quite impertinent in a little girl like you
setting up her opinion against that of her elders.
You must never try it with me, my daughter. ' :
ELSIE DINSMORE. 225
Elsie hung down her head in silence for a moment,
then asked in a tremulous tone, " Are you going to
punish me, papa ?"
" Yes," he said, " but first I am going to take you
down-stairs and make you beg your grandfather's
pardon. I see you don't want to do it," he added,,
looking keenly into her face, " but you must, and 1
hope I shall not be obliged to enforce obedience to>
mv commands."
*
" I will do whatever you bid me, papa," she sob-
bed, u but 1 did not mean to be saucy. Please,,
papa, tell me what to say."
'' You must say, Grandpa, I did not intend to be
impertinent to you, and I am very sorry for whatever
may have seemed saucy in my words or tones : will
you please to forgive me, and I will try always to be-
perfectly respectful in future. You can say all that
with truth, I think ?"
" Yes, papa, I am sorry, and I do intend to be re-
spectful to grandpa always," she answered, brushLir
away her tears, and putting her hand in his.
He then led her into her grandfather's presence,,
saying, " Elsie has come to beg your pardon, sir."
" That is as it should be," replied the old gentle-
man, glancing triumphantly at his wife ; "I told her
you would not uphold her in any such impertinence."
11 Xo," said his son, with some displeasure in his
tone ; "I will neither uphold her in wrongdoing,
nor suffer her to be imposed upon. Speak, my
daughter, and say what I bade you.'
226 ELSIE DINS MORE.
Elsie sobbed out the required words.
*' Yes, I must forgive you, of course," replied her
grandfather, coldly, " but I hope your father is not
going to let you off without proper punishment."
" I will attend to that ; I certainly intend to punish
her as she deserves," said his son, laying a marked
emphasis upon the concluding words of his sentence.
Elsie wholly misunderstood him, and so trembled
with fear as he led her from the room, that she could
scarcely walk ; seeing which, he took her in his arms
and carried her up-stairs, she sobbing on his shoulder.
He did npt speak until he had locked the door,
carried her across the room, and seated himself upon
the couch again, with her upon his knee.
Then he said, in a soothing' tone, as he wiped away
her tears and kissed her kindly. " You need not
> i
tremble so, my daughter ; I am not going to be
severe with you. '
She looked up in glad surprise.
" I said I would punish you as you deserve" he
said, with a smile, " and I intend to keep you shut up
here with me until bed-time. I shall not allow you
to go down-stairs to tea, and besides, I am going to
give you a long lesson to learn, which I shall require
you to recite to me quite perfectly before you can go
to bed."
Elsie grew frightened again at the mention of the
lesson, for she feared it might be something which
she could not conscientiously study on the Sabbath ;
but all her fear and trouble vanished as she saw her
ELSIE DINSMORE. 227
father take up a Bible that lay on the table, and turn
over the leaves as though selecting a passage.
Presently he put it into her hands, and pointing
to the thirteenth and fourteenth chapters of John's
Gospel, bade her carry the book to a low seat by the
window, and sit there until she had learned them
perfectly.
11 O papa ! what a nice lesson !" she exclaimed,
looking up delightedly into his face ; " but it won't
be any punishment, because I love these chapters
dearly, and have read them so often that I almost
know every word already.'
11 Hush, hush !" he said, pretending to be very
stern ; " don't tell me that my punishments are no
punishment, I don't allow you to talk so ; just take
the book and learn what I bid you ; and if you know
those two already, you may learn the next."
Elsie laughed, kissed his hand, and tripped away
to her window, while he threw himself down on the
couch and took up a newspaper, more as a screen to-
his face, however, than for the purpose of reading ;
for he lay there closely watching his little daughter,
as she sat in the rich glow of the sunset, with
her sweet, grave little face bending over the holy
book.
" The darling !" he murmured to himself ; " she is
iovely as an angel, and she is mine, mine only, mine
own precious one ; and loves me with her whole soul.
Ah ! how can I ever find it in my heart to be stern
to her ? Ah ! if / were but half as good and pure
228 ELSIE DINS MO RE.
as she is, I should be a better man than I am."
And he heaved a deep sigh.
Half an hour had passed, and still Elsie bent over
her book. The tea-bell rang, and Mr. Dinsmore
started up, and crossing the room, bent down and
stroked her hair.
" Do you know it, darling ?" he asked.
' Almost, papa," and she looked up into his face
with a bright, sweet smile, full of affection.
With a sudden impulse he caught her in his arms,
<md kissing her again and again, said with emotion,
' Elsie, my darling, I love you too well ; I could
never bear to lose you. '
You must love Jesus better, my own precious
papa," she replied, clasping her little arms around
his neck, and returning his caresses.
He held her a moment, and then putting her down,
said, ' I shall send you up some supper, and I want
YOU to eat it ; don't behave as YOU did about the
^
bread and water once, a good while ago. '
"Will it be bread and water this time, papa ?"
-she asked, with a smile.
" You will see,' : ' he said, laughingly, and quitted
the room.
Elsie turned to her book again, but in a few mo-
ments was interrupted by the entrance of a servant
carrying on a silver waiter a plate of hot, buttered
muffins, a cup of jelly, another of hot coffee, and a
piece of broiled chicken. Elsie was all astonishment.
" Why, Pomp," she asked, " did papa send it ?"
ELSIE DINS MO RE. 229
" Yes, Miss Elsie, 'deed lie did," replied the ser-
vant, with a grin of satisfaction, as he set down his
burden. " I reckon you been berry nice gal dis day ;
or else Marster Horace tink you little bit sick."
" Papa is very good : and I am much obliged to
you too, Pomp," said the little girl, laying aside her
book, and seating herself before the waiter.
" O
" Jes ring de bell, Miss Elsie, ef you want more,
and dis chile fotch 'em up ; Marster Horace say so
hisself." And the grinning negro bowed himself
out, chuckling with delight, for Elsie had always
been a great favorite with him.
" Dear papa," Elsie said, when he came in again
and smilingly asked if she had eaten her prison fare,
" what a good supper you sent me ! But I thought
you didn't allow me such things !"
" Don't you know," said he playfully, laying his
hand upon her head, " that I am absolute monarch
of this small kingdom, and you are not to question
my doings or decrees ?"
Then in a more serious tone, " No, daughter, I do
not allow it as a regular thino- because I do not think
O O '
it for your good ; but for once, I thought it would
not hurt you. I know you are not one to presume
upon favors, and I wanted to indulge you a little,
because I fear my little girl has been made to suffer
perhaps more than she quite deserved this afternoon."
His voice had a very tender tone as he uttered the
concluding words, and stooping, he pressed his lips
to her forehead.
230 ELSIE DINSMORE.
11 Don't think, though," he added the next mo-
ment, " that I am excusing you for impertinence,
not at all ; but it was what you have had to suffer
from Enna's insolence. I shall put a stop to that,
for I will not have it."
" I don't mind it much, papa," said Elsie gently.
" I am quite used to it, for Enna has always treated
me so.
4 t
And why did / never hear of it before ?" he
asked, half angrily. "It is abominable ! not to be
endured !" he exclaimed, " and I shall see that Miss
Enna is made to understand that my daughter is
fully her equal in every respect, and always to be
treated as such.'
He paused ; but Elsie, half frightened at his ve-
hemence, made no reply, and he went on : "I have
no doubt your grandfather and his wife would have
been better pleased had I forced you to yield to
Evma's whim ; but I had no idea of such a thing ;
you shall use your own pleasure whenever she is con-
cerned ; but if / had bidden you tell her that story
it would have been a very different matter ; you need
never set up your will, or your opinion of right and
wrong, against mine, Elsie, for I shall not allow it.
I don't altogether like some of those strict notions
you have got into your head, and I give you fair
warning, that should they ever come into collision
with my wishes and commands, they will have to be
given up. But don't look so alarmed, daughter ; I
hope it may never happen ; and we will say no more
ELSIE DINSMORE. 231
about it to-night,' 1 he added, kindly, for she had
grown very pale and trembled visibly.
" papa, dear papa ! don't ever bid me do any-
thing wrong ; it would break my heart," she said,
laying her head on his shoulder as he sat down and
-drew her to his side.
" I never intend to bid vou do wrono;. but, on the
>
contrary, wish you always to do riovht. But then,
* ' j
daughter, / must be the judge of what is wrong
or right for you ; you must remember that you
are only a very little girl, and not yet capable of
judging for yourself, and all you have to do is to
obey your father without murmuring 1 or hesitation,
> J
and then there will be no trouble.'
His tone, though mild, and not unkind, was very
firm and decided, and Elsie's heart sank ; she seemed
to feel herself in the shadow of some great trouble
laid up in store for her in the future. But she strove,
and erelong with success, to banish the foreboding
O 7 O
of evil which oppressed her, and give herself up to
the enjoyment of present blessings. Her father loved
her dearly she knew that and he was not now re-
quiring her to do aught against her conscience, and
perhaps he never might ; he had said so himself, and
God could incline his heart to respect her scruples ;
or if, in His infinite wisdom, He saw that the dreaded
trial was needed, He would give her strength to bear
it ; for had He not promised, " As thy day, so shall
thy strength be" ?
Her father's arm was around her, and she had been
232 ELSIE D1NSMORE.
standing silently, with her face hidden on his shoul-
der, while these thoughts were passing through her
mind, and the little heart going up in prayer to God
for him and for herself.
" AYhat is my little girl thinking of ?" he asked
presently.
" A good many things, papa," she said, raising
her face, now quite peaceful and happy again. " I
was thinking of what you had just been saying to
me, and that I am so glad I know that you love me
dearly ; and I was asking God to help us both to da
His will, and that I might always be able to do what
you bid me, without disobeying Him," she added
simply ; and then asked, " May I say my lesson,
now, papa ? I think I know it quite perfectly."
"Yes,", he said in an absent way ; "bring me
the book."
Elsie brought it, and putting it into his hands,,
drew up a stool and sat down at his feet, resting her
arm on his knee, and looking up into his face ; then
in her sweet, low voice, she repeated slowly and feel-
ingly, with true and beautiful emphasis, the chapters
he had given her to learn : that most touching
description of the Last Supper, and our Saviour's
farewell address to His sorrowing disciples.
" Ah ! papa, is it not beautiful ?" she exclaimed,
laying her head upon his knee, while the tears trem-
bled in her eyes. ' ' Is not that a sweet verse, ' Having
loved His own which were in the world, He loved
them unto the end ' ? It seems so strange that He
ELSIE D1NSMORE. 233
could be so thoughtful for them, so kind and loving,
when all the time He knew what a dreadful death He
was just going to die ; and knew besides that they
were all going to run away and leave Him alone with
His cruel enemies. Oh ! it is so sweet to know that
Jesus is so loving, and that He loves me, and will
always love me, even to the end, forever. '
" How do you know that, Elsie ?" he asked.
" I know that He loves me, papa, because I love
Him, and He has said, ' I love them that love me ; '
and I know that He will love me always, because He
J
has said, * I have loved thee with an everlasting love,'
and in another place, * I will never leave thee, nor
forsake thee.'
" But do you think you are good enough, daugh-
ter, for Jesus to love you ?"
1 ' Ah ! papa, I know I am not at all good. I have
a very wicked heart, and often my thoughts and f eel-
ino-s are all wrono- and Jesus knows all about it, but
O O '
it does not keep Him from loving me, for you know
it was sinners He died to save. Ah ! papa, how good
and kind He was ! "Who could help loving Him ? I
used to feel so lonely and sad sometimes, papa, that I
think my heart would have broken quite, and I should
have died, if I had not had Jesus to love me."
" When were you so sad and lonely, darlino- ?'' he
/ J '
asked in a moved tone, as he laid his hand gently on
her head, and stroked her hair caressingly.
O /
" Sometimes when you were away, papa, and I had
never seen you ; but then I used to think of you, and
234 ELSIE DINSMORE.
my heart would long and ache so to see you, and hear
you call me daughter, and to lay my head against
your breast and feel your arms folding me close to
your heart, as you do so often now. r
She paused a moment, and struggled hard to keep
down the rising sobs, as she added, " But when you.
came, papa, and I saw you did not love me, oh ! papa,,
that was the worst. I thought I could never, never
bear it. I thought my heart would break, and I
wanted to die and go to Jesus, and to mamma."
The little frame shook with sobs.
" My poor darling ! my poor little pet,' : ' he said r
taking her in his arms again, and caressing her with
the greatest tenderness, " it was very hard, very cruel.
I don't know how I could steel my heart so against
my own little child ; but I had been very much prej-
udiced, and led to suppose that you looked upon me
with fear and dislike, as a hated tyrant.'
Elsie lifted her eyes to his face with a look of ex-
treme surprise.
" O papa !" she exclaimed, " how could you think
that ? I have always loved you, ever since I can
remember."
When Elsie went to her room that evening she
thought very seriously of all that had occurred dur-
ing the afternoon, and all that her papa had said to
her ; and to her usual petitions was added a very fer-
vent one that he might never bid her break any com-
mand of God ; or if he did, that she might have
strength given her according to her day.
ELSIE DIN SHORE. 235
A shadow had fallen on her pathway, faint, but
perceptible ; a light, fleecy cloud obscured the bright-
ness of her sun ; yet it was not for some weeks that
even the most distant mutterinsrs of the coming storm
O O
could be heard. /
Chapter
Op
" 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 all gentlemen, and were now col-
lected in the drawing-room, laughing, jesting, talking
politics, and conversing with each other and the la-
dies upon various worldly topics, apparently quite
forgetful that it was the Lord's day, which He has
commanded to be kept holy in thought and word, as
well as deed.
" May I ask what you are in search of, Mr. Ever-
sham ?" inquired Adelaide, as she noticed one of the
guests glance around the room with a rather disap-
pointed air.
1 i Yes, Miss Adelaide ; I was looking for little Miss
Elsie. Travilla has given me so, very glowing an ac-
count 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.
ELSIE DINSMORE. 237
" Yes, and I shall be most happy to gratify you r
jEversham," replied the young father, with a proud
smile.
He crossed the room to summon a servant, but as
he placed his hand upon the bell-rope, Mrs. Dins-
more arrested his movement.
" Stay, Horace," she said ; " you had better not
send for her."
" May I be permitted to ask ivhy, madam ?" he
inquired in a tone of mingled surprise and annoyance.
" Because she will not sing," answered the lady,
coolly.
" Pardon me, madam, but I think she will, if 1
bid her do it, " he said with flashing eyes.
" No, she will not," persisted Mrs. Dinsmore, in
the same cold, quiet tone ; " she will tell you she is-
wiser than her father, and that it would be a sin to
obey him in this. Believe me, she will most assuredly
defy your authority ; so you had better take my ad-
vice and let her alone thus sparing yourself the mor-
tification of exhibiting before your guests your ina-
bility to govern your child."
Mr. Dinsmore bit his lip with vexation.
" Thank you,''' he said, haughtily, " but I prefer
convincing you that that inability lies wholly in your
own imagination ; and I am quite at a loss to under-
stand upon what you found your opinion, as Elsie
has never yet made the very slightest resistance to
my authority."
He had given the bell-rope a vigorous pull while
238 ELSIE DINSMOEE.
speaking, and a servant now appearing in answer to
the summons, he sent him with a message to Elsie,
requiring her presence in the drawing-room.
Then turning away from his step-mother, who
aooked after him with a gleam of triumph in her eye,
he joined the group of gentlemen already gathered
about the piano, where Adelaide had just taken her
seat and begun a brilliant overture.
Yet, outwardly calm and self-satisfied as his de-
meanor may have been, Horace Dinsmore was even
now regretting the step he had jitst taken ; for re-
membering Elsie's conscientious scruples regarding
the observance of the Sabbath which he had for the
moment forgotten he foresaw that there would be a
struggle, probably a severe one ; and though, having
always found her docile and yielding, he felt no doubt
of the final result, he would willingly have avoided
the contest, could he have done so without a sacrifice
of pride ; but, as he said to himself, with a slight
sigh, he had now gone too far to retreat ; and then
he had all along felt that this struggle must come some
time, and perhaps it was as well now as at any other.
Elsie was alone in her own room, spending the Sab-
bath afternoon in her usual manner, when the servant
came to say that her papa wished to see her in the
drawing-room. The little girl was a good deal alarmed
.at the summons, for the thought instantly flashed
upon her, " He is going to bid me play and sing, or
do something else which it is not right to do on the
Sabbath day."
ELSIE DINSMORE. 239
But remembering that he never had done so, she
koped he might not now ; yet ere she obeyed the
call she knelt down for a moment, and prayed ear-
nestly for strength to do rio-ht, however difficult it
/
might be.
" Come here, daughter," her father said as she
entered the room. He spoke in his usual pleasant,
affectionate tone, yet Elsie started, trembled, and
turned pale ; for catching sight of the group at the
piano, and her Aunt Adelaide just vacating the music-
stool, she at once perceived what was in store for her.
11 Here, Elsie," said her father, selecting a sonor-
which she had learned during their absence, and sang
remarkably well, " I wish you to sing this 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 with a meaning; smile, which he
O '
affected not to see.
u Certainly not, Elsie," he said ; " we want it
now. You know it quite well enough without any
more practice.'
" I did not want to wait for that reason, papa,"
she replied in the same low, trembling tones, " but
you know this is the holy Sabbath day. 75
" Well, my daughter, and what of that ? /con-
sider this song perfectly proper to be sung to-day,
and that ought to satisfy you that you will not be
doing wrong to sing it : remember what I said to
240 ELSIE DINSMORE.
you some weeks ago ; 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 until to-morrow."
" Elsie, ' :> lie said in his sternest tones, " sit down
to the piano instantly, and do as I bid you, and let
me have no more of this nonsense.'
She sat down, but raising her pleading eyes, brim-
ful of tears to his face, 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. " I have told you that it will not
be breaking the Sabbath, and that is sufficient ; you
must let me judge for you in these matters."
" Let her wait until to-morrow, Dinsmore ; to-
morrow will suit us quite as well,' 1 urged several
of the gentlemen, while Adelaide good-naturedly
said, " Let me play it, Horace ; I have no such
scruples, and presume 1 can do it nearly as well as
Elsie."
" Xo," he replied, " when I give my child a com-
mand, it is to be obeyed ; I have said she should
play it, and play it she must ; she is not to suppose
that she may set up her opinion of right and wrong
against mine."
Elsie sat with her little hands folded in her lap,
the tears streaming from her downcast eyes over her
pale cheeks. She was trembling, but though there
was no stubbornness in her countenance, the expres-
ELSIE DINSMORE. 241:
sion meek and humble, she made no movement
toward obeying her father's order.
There was a moment of silent waiting : then he-
said in his severest tone, " Elsie, you shall sit there
till you obey me, though it should be until to-morrow
morning."
" Yes, papa," she replied in a scarcely audible
voice, and they all turned away and left her.
' ' You see now that you had better have taken my
advice, Horace,' 1 remarked Mrs. Dinsmore, in a
triumphant aside ; " I knew very well how it would
end."
" Excuse me," said he, " but it has not ended ;
and ere it does, I think she 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 and uneasy, and seeming to grow more and
more so as the weary moments passed slowly away.
Xo one came near her or seemed to notice her, yet
she could hear them conversing in other parts of the
room, and knew that they were sometimes looking at
her, and, timid and bashful as she was, it seemed hard
to bear. Then, too, her little heart was very sad as-
she thought of her father's displeasure, and feared
that he would withdraw from her the affection which
had been for the last few months the very sunshine
of her life. Besides all this, the excitement of her
feelino-s, and the close and sultry air for it was a
O * *^
very warm day had brought on a nervous headache.
She leaned forward and rested her head against th*
242 ELSIE DINSMORE.
instrument, feeling in momentary danger of falling
from her seat.
Thus two long hours had passed when Mr. Tra-
villa came to her side, and said in a compassionate
tone, " I am really very sorry for you, my little
friend ; but I advise you to submit to your papa. I
.see you are getting very weary sitting there, and I
warn you not to hope to conquer him. I have known
him for years, and a more determined person I never
saw. 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 your sympathy, Mr. Travilla, you
are very kind ; but I could not do it, because Jesus
V
says, ' He that loveth father or mother more than me,
is not worthy of me ; ' and I cannot disobey Him,
even to please my own dear papa. '
11 But, Miss Elsie, why do you think it would be
disobeying Him ? Is there any 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, nor do our
own actions ; but all the day must be spent in study-
ing God's word, or worshipping and praising Him :
and there is no praise in that song ; not one word
about God or heaven. r
" That is very true, Elsie, but still it is such a very
little thing, that I cannot think there would be much
ELSIE DIN SWORE. 243
harm in, it, or that God would be very angry with
you for doing it.'
" Mr. Tra villa !" she said, looking up at him in
great surprise, " surely you know that there is no
such thing as a little sin ; and don't you remember
about the man who picked up sticks on the Sabbath
day ?"
" 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 is conscientious ; had you not bet-
ter give up to her in this instance ?"
" Never, Travilla," he answered, with stern deci-
sion. " This is the first time she has rebelled against
o
my authority, and if I let her conquer now, she will
think she is always to have her own way. No ; cost
what it may, I must subdue her ; she will have to
learn that my will is law."
" Right, Horace," said the elder Mr. Dinsmore,
approvingly, " let her understand from the first
that you are to be master ; it is always the best
plan.
''Excuse me, Dinsmore," said Travilla; "but I
must say that I think a parent has no right to coerce
a child into doing violence to its conscience.'
" Nonsense !" replied his friend, a little angrily.
244 ELSTE DINSMORE.
* k Elsie is entirely too young to set up her opinion
against mine ; she must allow me to judge for her
in these matters for some years to come."
Eversham, who had been casting uneasy glances at
Elsie all the afternoon, now drawing his chair near to
Adelaide, said to her in an undertone, " Miss Ade-
laide, I am deeply sorry for the mischief I have un-
wittingly caused, and if you can tell me how to re-
pair it you will lay me under lasting obligations.'
Adelaide shook her head. " There is no moving
Horace when he has once set his foot down," she
said ; " and as to Elsie, I doubt whether any power
on earth can make her do what she considers wrong. "
o
" Poor little thing !" said Eversham, sighing ;
" where in the world did she get such odd notions ?"
" Partly from a pious Scotch woman, who had a
good deal to do with her in her infancy, and partly
from studying the Bible, I believe. She is always
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 obey me now ? if so, we will wait a
moment to hear the song, and then you can go to
your tea with us.'
" Dear papa, I cannot break the Sabbath," she
replied, in a low, gentle tone, without lifting her
iiead.
" Very well then, I cannot break my word ; you
ELSIE DIN SHORE. 245
must sit there until you will submit ; and until then
you must fast. You are not only making yourself
miserable by your disobedience and obstinacy, Elsie,
but are mortifying and grieving me very much,' 1 ' he
added in a subdued tone, that sent a sharp pang to
the loving little heart, and caused some very bitter
tears to fall, as he turned away and left her.
The evening passed wearily away to the little girl ;
the drawing-room was but dimly lighted, for the com-
pany had all deserted it to wander about the grounds,
or sit in the portico enjoying the moonlight and the
pleasant evening breeze, and the air indoors seemed
insupportably close and sultry. At times Elsie could
scarcely breathe, and she longed intensely to get out
into the open air ; every moment her seat grew more
uncomfortable and the pain in her head more severe :
her thoughts began to wander, she forgot where she
was, everything became confused, and at length she
lost all consciousness.
Several gentlemen, among whom were Mr. Horace
Dinsmore and Mr. Travilla, were conversing together
on the portico, when they were suddenly 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, rais-
ing Elsie's insensible form in his arms ; " the child
O '
has fainted.'
One of the others, instantly snatching a lamp from
a distant table, brought it near, and the increased
246 ELSIE DINSMORE.
light showed Elsie's little face, ghastly as that of a
corpse, while a stream of blood was flowing from a-
wound in the temple, made by striking against some
sharp corner of the furniture as she fell.
She was a pitiable sight indeed, with her fair
face, her curls, and her white dress all dabbled in
blood.
" Dinsmore, you're a brute !" exclaimed Travilla
indignantly, as he placed her gently on a sofa.
Horace made no reply, but, with a face almost as-
pale as her own, bent over his little daughter in
speechless alarm, while one of the guests, who hap-
pened to be a physician, hastily dressed the wound,,
and then applied restoratives.
It was some time ere consciousness returned, and
the father trembled with the agonizing fear that the
gentle spirit had taken its flight.
But at length the soft eyes unclosed, and o-azing*
O
with a troubled look into his face, bent so anxiously
over her, she asked, ' ' Dear papa, are you angry with
me?"
" No, darling," he replied in tones made tremu-
lous with emotion, " not at all.'
" What was it ?" she asked in a bewildered way - r
*' what did I do ? what has happened ?"
" Never mind, daughter," he said, "you have-
been ill ; but you are better now, so don't think any
more about it.'
' ' She had better be put to bed at once, ' ' said the-
physician.
ELSIE DINSMOEE. 247
*' There is blood on mv dress," cried Elsie, in a
/
startled tone ; " where did it come from ?"
" You fell and hurt your head," replied her father,
raising her gently in his arms ; " but don't talk any
more now. 5
11 Oh ! I remember," she moaned, an expression
of keen distress coming over 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 put to bed.'
He held her on his knee, her head resting on his
shoulder, while Chloe prepared her for rest.
" Are you hungry, daughter ?" he asked.
" Xo, papa ; I only want to go to sleep."
" There, Aunt Chloe, that will do," he said, as the
old nurse tied on the child's night-cap ; and raising
her again in his arms, he carried her to the bed and
was about to place her on it.
' ' O papa ! my prayers first, you know, ' ' she cried
eagerly.
" Xever 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 stood beside her, listening to her mur-
mured petitions, in which he more than once heard
his own name coupled with a request that he might
be made to love Jesus.
When she had finished, he again raised her in his
248 ELSIE DINSMORE.
arms, kissed her tenderly several times, and then
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 so happy ; and besides, you can-
not go to heaven without ; the Bible says so."
" Does it ? and what makes you think I don't love
Him?"
" Dear papa, please don't be angry," she pleaded,,
tearfully, " but you know Jesus says, ' He that
keepeth my commandments, he it is that loveth me.'
He stooped over her. " Good night, daughter, ' :
he said.
" Dear, dear papa," she cried, throwing her firm,
round his neck, and drawing down his face close to
hers, " I do love you so very, very much !"
u 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 the room. He was not entirely pleased ;
not quite willing that she should love even her Sa-
viour better than himself.
Elsie was very weary, and was soon asleep. She
waked the next morning feeling nearly as well as
usual, and after she had had her bath and been
dressed by Chloe's careful hands, the curls being ar-
ranged to conceal the plaster that covered the wound
on her temple, there was nothing in her appearance,
except a slight paleness, to remind her friends of the
last night's accident.
ELSIE DIN8MOBE. 249
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 he caressed her ten-
derly, " My little daughter is looking pretty well this
morning ; how does she feel ?"
" Quite well, thank you, papa," she replied, look-
ing up into his face with a sweet, loving smile.
He raised the curls to look at the wounded temple ;
then, as he dropped them again, he said, with a
shudder, " Elsie, do you know that you were very
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 nearer your eye I should have
been childless."
His voice trembled almost too much for utterance
as he finished his sentence, and he strained her to his
heart with a deep sigh of thankfulness for her escape.
Elsie was very quiet for some moments, and the
little face was almost sad in its deep thoughtfulness.
" TVhat are you thinking of, darling ?" he asked.
She raised her eyes to his face, and he saw that
they were brimful of tears.
" O papa !" she said, dropping her head on his
breast while the bright drops fell like rain down her
cheeks, " would you have been so very sorry ?"
" Sorry, darling ! do you not know that you are
more precious to me than all my wealth, all my
friends and relatives put together ? Yes, I would
250 ELSIE DINSMORE.
rather part with everything- else than lose tLis one
little o-irl," he said, kissino- her ao-ain and ao-ain.
o o o o
" Pear, dear papa ! how glad 1 am that you love
me so much !" she replied ; and then relapsed into
silence.
He watched her changing- countenance for some
time, then asked, " What is it, 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 was thinking
how glad mamma would have been to see me ; don't
you think she would, papa ?"
" I can't spare you to her yet," he replied with,
emotion, " and I think she loves me too well to
wish it."
As Miss Day had not yet returned, Elsie's time was
still pretty much at her own disposal, excepting when
her papa gave her something to do ; so, after break-
fast, findiiiir that he was cuira^ed with some one in
O O C7
the library, she took her Bible, and seeking out a
shady retreat in the garden, sat down to read.
The Bible was ever the book of books to her, and
this morning the solemn, tender feelings naturally
caused by the discovery of her recent narrow escape
from sudden death made it even more than usually
touching and beautiful in her eyes. She had been
alone in the arbor for some time, when, hearing a
step at her side, she looked up, showing a face all
wet with tears.
It was Mr. Travilla who stood beside her.
ELSIE DINSMORE. 251
" In tears, little Elsie ! Pray, what may the book
be that affects you so ?" 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 in it that you find so affecting ?"
11 Mr. Tra villa !" said the little girl, " does it
not make your heart ache to read how the Jews abused
our dear, dear Saviour ? and then to think 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 your ideas. 1 suppose I ought to feel un-
happy about these things, but indeed the truth is, I
have never thought much about them."
" Then you don't love Jesus," she answered, mourn*
fully. " Ah ! Mr. Travilla, how sorry I am."
" Why, Elsie, what -difference can it make to you
whether I love Him or not ?"
" Because, Mr. Travilla, the Bible says, ' If any
man love not the Lord Jesus Christ, let him fee an-
athema, 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 shalt be saved. 7
That is what God says in His word."
She spoke with deep solemnity, the tears trembling
in her eyes. He was touched, but for a while sat
perfectly silent.
Then he said, with an effort to speak lightly, " Ah,
252 ELSIE DIN SHORE.
well, my little friend, I certainly intend to repent and
believe before I die, but there is time enough yet."
" Mr. Travilla," she said, laying her hand on his
arm and looking earnestly into his face, " how do
you know that there is time enough yet ? don't put it
off, I beg of you."
She paused a moment ; then asked, " Do you
know, Mr. Travilla, how near I came to being killed
last night ?"
He nodded.
" "Well, suppose I had been killed, and had not
loved Jesus ; where would I be now ?"
He put his arm round her, and giving her a kiss,
said, " I don't think you would have been in any
very bad place, Elsie ; a sweet, amiable little girl,
who has never harmed any one, would surely not fare
very badly in another world."
She shook her head very gravely.
" Ah ! Mr. Travilla, you forget the anathema, mar-
anatha ; if I had not loved Jesus, and had my sins
washed away in His blood, I could not have been
saved."
Just at this moment a servant came to tell Elsie
that her papa wanted her in the drawing-room, and
Mr. Travilla, taking her hand, led her into the house.
They found the company again grouped about the
piano, listening to Adelaide's music.
Elsie went directly to her father and stood by his
side, putting her hand in his with a gesture of con-
fiding affectiou.
ELSIE DINSMORE. 253
He smiled down at her, and kept fast hold of it
until his sister had risen from the instrument, when
putting Elsie in her place, he said, " Now, my daugh-
ter, let us have that song."
" Yes, papa," she replied, beginning the prelude
at once, " I will do my very best."
And so she did. The song was both well played
and well sung, and her father looked proud and happy
as the gentlemen expressed their pleasure and asked
for another and another.
Thus the clouds which had so suddenly obscured
/
little Elsie's sky, seemed to have vanished as speed-
ily as they had arisen.
Her father again treated her with all his wonted
affection, and there even seemed to be a depth of
tenderness in his love which it had not known be-
fore, for he could not forget how nearly he had lost
her.
Cjmpter (Elebmtjr.
" In that hour Jesus rejoiced in spirit, and said, I thank thee, O
Father, Lord of heaven and earth, that thou hast hid these things from
the wise and prudent, and hast revealed them unto babes ; even so,
Father ; for so it seemed good in thy sight." Luke x. 21.
SAYS the Apostle Paul, " I say the truth in Christ,
I lie not, my conscience also bearing me witness in
the Holy Ghost, that I have great heaviness and con-
tinual sorrow in my heart, for I could wish that
myself were accursed from Christ, for my brethren,
my kinsmen according to the flesh. . . . Breth-
ren, my heart's desire and prayer to God for Israel
is, that they might be saved.'
And such, dear reader, is, in greater or less degree,
the feeling of every renewed heart ; lovino- Jesus, it
O / O
would fain have others love Him too ; it desires the
salvation of all ; but for that of its own dear ones it
longs and labors and prays ; it is like Jacob wrestling
with the angel, when he said, ' ' I will not let thee*
go, except thou bless me.''
And thus it was with Elsie. She knew now that
her father was not a Christian ; that he had no real
love for Jesus, none of the true fear of God before
his eyes. She saw that if he permitted her to read
to him from God's word, as he sometimes did, it was
ELSIE DINS MORE. 255
not that lie felt any pleasure in listening, but only to
please her ; she had no reason to suppose he ever
prayed, and though he went regularly to church, it
was because he considered it proper and respectable
to do so, and not that he cared to worship God, or
to learn His will.
This conviction, which had gradually dawned upon
Elsie, until now it amounted to certainty, caused her
great grief ; she shed many tears over it in secret,
and very many and very earnest were the prayers
she offered up for her dear father's conversion.
She was sitting on his knee one evening in the
drawing-room, while he and several other gentlemen
were conversing on the subject of religion. They
were discussing the question whether or no a change
of heart were necessary to salvation.
The general opinion seemed to be that it was not,
and Elsie listened with pain while her father expressed
his decided conviction that all who led an honest,
upright, moral life, and attended to the outward
observances of religion, were quite safe.
" He could see no necessity for a change of heart ;
he did not believe in the doctrine of total depravity,
not he ; no indeed, he thought the world much bet-
ter than many people would have us believe.'
Elsie fixed her eyes on his face with a very mourn-
ful gaze while he was speaking, but he was busy
with his argument and did not notice her.
But one of the guests was just expressing his ap-
proval of Mr. Dinsmore's sentiments, when catch-
256 ELSIE DINSMORE.
ing sight of Elsie's face, he stopped, remarking,
*' Your little girl looks as if she had something to
say on the subject ; what is it, my dear ?"
Elsie blushed, hesitated, and looked at her father.
' ' Yes, speak, my daughter, if you have anything
to say," he said encouragingly.
Elsie lifted her eyes timidly to the gentleman's
face as she replied, " I was just thinking, sir, of what
our Saviour said to Nicodemus : ' Verily, verily I say
unto thee, except a man be born again, he cannot
see the kingdom of God.' ' Marvel not that I said
unto thee, Ye must be born again.'
She repeated these words of inspiration with a
deep, earnest solemnity that seemed to impress every
hearer.
For a moment there was a deep hush in the room.
Then the gentleman asked, " Well, my little lady,
and what is meant by being born again ?"
" sir !" she replied, " surely you know that it
means to have the image of God, lost in Adam's fall,
restored to us ; it means what David asked for when
he prayed, * Create in me a clean heart, O God, and
renew a right spirit within me. 7
" Where did you learn all this ?" he asked, look-
ing at her with mingled surprise and admiration.
" In the Bible, sir," she modestly replied.
" You seem to have read it to some purpose," said
he ; " and now since you consider that change so
necessary, can you tell me how it is to be brought
about ?"
ELSIE DIN8MORE. 257
" God's Holy Spirit, alone, can change a sinner's
heart, sir."
" And how am I to secure His aid ?" he asked.
Elsie answered with a text : ' ' God is more willing*
to give His Holy Spirit to them that ask Him, than
parents are to give good gifts unto their children.'
He paused a moment ; then asked, " Have you
obtained this new heart, Miss Elsie ?"
" I hope I have, sir/' she replied, the sweet little
face all suffused with blushes, and the soft, downcast
eyes filling with tears.
" Why do you think so ?" he asked again. " I
think there is a text that says you must be able
always to give a reason for the hope that is in you,
or something to that effect, is there not ?' :
" Yes, sir : ' Be ready always to give an answer to
every man that asketh you a reason of the hope that
is in you, with meekness and fear.' Then raising
her eyes to his face with a touching mixture of deep
humility and holy boldness, she continued, " And
this, sir, is my answer : Jesus says, * Him that com-
eth unto me, I will in no wise cast out ; ' and I be-
lieve Him. I did go to Him, and He did not cast
me out, but forgave my sins, and taught me to love
Him and desire to serve Him all mv life. '
V
This conversation between the gentleman and the
little girl had drawn the attention of all present ; and
now Mrs. Dinsmore, who had more than once shown
signs of impatience, said, " Well, Elsie, I think you
have now talked quite enough for a child of your
258 ELSIE DIN SHORE.
age." Then, pulling out her watch, "It is high
time for little folks to be in bed.'
Elsie, blushing deeply, would have retired immedi-
ately, but her father held her fast, saying, as he gave
his stepmother an angry glance, " You need not go,
Elsie, unless you choose ; I am quite capable of
judging when it is time to send you to bed.'
" I would rather go, if you please, papa,' 1 ' whis-
pered Elsie, who had a great dread of Mrs. Dins-
more 's anger.
Very well, then, you may do as you like," he
replied, giving her a good-night kiss. And with a
graceful good-night to the company, the little girl
left the room.
Her questioner followed her with an admiring
glance, then turning to her father, exclaimed warmly,
" She is a remarkably intelligent child, Dinsmore !
one that any father might be proud of. I was aston-
ished at her answers.'
" Yes," remarked Travilla, " a text has been run-
ning in my head ever since you commenced your con-
versation ; something about these things being hid
from the wise and piudent, and revealed unto babes.
And," he added, " I am sure if ever I saw one who
possessed that new nature of which she spoke, it is
she herself. Has she any faults, Dinsmore ?"
*/
" Very few, /think ; though she would tell you a
different story," replied her father with a gratified
smile.
The next morning Elsie was sitting reading her
ELSIE DINSMOEE. 259
Bible, when she suddenly felt a hand laid on her
head, and her father's voice said, " Good morning,
little daughter.' 1
" Ah ! papa, is that you ?' ' she asked, raising her
head to give him a smile of joyful welcome. " I did
not know vou were there.'
/
" Ah ! I have been watching you for several min-
utes," he said ; " always poring over the same book,
Elsie ; do you never tire of it ?"
" No, indeed, papa ; it is always new, and I do
love it so ; it is so very sweet. May I read a little
to you ?'* she added, coaxingly.
" Yes, I love to listen to anything read by my
darling," he said, sitting down and taking her on
his knee.
She opened at the third chapter of John's Gospel,
and read it through. At the sixteenth verse, " For
God so loved the world, that He gave His only begot-
ten Son, that whosoever believeth in Him should not
perish, but have everlasting life," she paused, and
asked, " Was not that a wonderful gift, papa ? and
wonderful love that prompted it ?"
" Yes," he said, absently, stroking her hair.
She finished the chapter, and closing the book,
laid her head on his breast, asking, " Dear papa,
don't you believe the Bible ?"
" Certainly, daughter ; I am not an infidel," he
replied in a careless tone.
" Well, then, papa," she continued, half hesitat-
ingly, " does not this chapter teach very plainly that
260 ELSIE DINSMORE.
we must love Jesus, and have new hearts, if we want
to go to heaven ?"
" Yes," he said, " I dare say it does.' :
Then taking the book from her, he laid it aside,
and giving her a kiss, said, " I was much pleased with
your intelligent answers to Mr. Lee, last evening. ' :
Elsie sighed, and her eyes filled with tears. It
was not what she wanted.
" What an odd child you are !" he said, laughing.
" You really look as though I had been scolding, in-
stead of praising you."
She dropped her head on his breast, and burst into
tears and sobs.
" Why, Elsie, my own darling, what ails you ?"
he asked in great surprise.
" papa !" she sobbed, " I want you to love
Jesus. ' :
" Oh ! is that all ?" he said.
And setting her on her feet, he took her by the
hand and led her out into the garden, where they
met Mr. Travilla and another gentleman, who imme-
diately entered into conversation with Mr. Dinsmore,
while Elsie wandered about amongst the flowers and
shrubs, gathering a nosegay for her Aunt Adelaide.
Cjmpter CfadfiK
" 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. NEAT.
" 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
might imagine that the affairs of the nation had been
committed to your care.' ;
" auntie ! can't you help me ? won't you ?" an.
swered the little girl, looking up coaxingly into the
brio;ht, cheerful face bent over her.
^j '
' ' Help you in what ? reading with your book up-
side down, eh?" asked Adelaide, pointing with a
quizzical look at the volume of fairy tales in her lit-
tle niece's lap.
" Oh !" cried Elsie, coloring and laughing in her
turn, " I was not reading, and did not know that my
book was wrong side up. But, Aunt Adelaide, you
know Christmas is comino- soon, and I want to
262 ELSIE DIN SHORE.
papa something, and I am quite puzzled about it. I
thought of slippers, but he has a very handsome pair,
and besides there would hardly be time to work
them, as I have so many lessons ; a purse won't do-
either, because I have given him one already, and I
would like it to be something worth more than either
slippers or purse. But you are so much wiser than
I, can't you help me think ?"
1 So this is what has kept you so quiet and demure
all day that I have scarcely once heard you laugh or
sing ; quite an unusual state of things of late," and
Adelaide playfully pinched the round, rosy cheek.
1 Ahem ! let me put on my thinking cap," assum-
ing an air of comic gravity. " Ah ! yes, I have it !
your miniature, little one, of course ; what could
please him better ?"
" Oh ! yes, "cried Elsie, clapping her hands, " that
do nicely ; why didn't I think of it ? Thank
you, auntie. But then," she added, her countenance
falling, * * how can I get it taken without his knowl-
edge ? you know the surprise is half the fun."
" Never mind, my dear, I'll find a way to manage
that," replied Adelaide, confidently ; " so just run
away with you now, and see how much money you
can scrape together to spend on it."
" It won't take long to count it," Elsie said with a
merry laugh. " But here is papa just coming in at
the door ; I hope he won't suspect what we have
been talking about, ' ' and she bounded away to meet
him and claim the kiss he never refused her now.
ELSIE DINSMORE. 263
Once Adelaide would not have been surprised at
Elsie's quietness. Patient and sweet tempered the
little girl had always been, but more especially after
her father's return from Europe very quiet and
timid, seeming to shrink from observation, with a
constant dread of incurring reproof or punishment ;
but the last few happy months, during which her
father had continued to lavish upon her every proof
of the tenderest affection, had wrought a great change
in her ; her manner had lost its timidity, she moved
about the house with a light and joyous step, and it
was no unusual thing to hear her merry, silvery laugh
ring out, or her sweet voice carolling like some wild
bird of the wood the natural outgushings of her
joy and thankfulness ; for the little heart that had so
long been famishing for love, that had often grown
so weary and sick in its hungering and thirsting for
it, was now fully satisfied, and revelled in its new-
found happiness.
" I have got it all arranged nicely, Elsie," Adelaide
said, coming into the room with a very pleased face
as the little girl was preparing for bed that evening.
* ' Your papa is going away in a day or two to attend
to some business matters connected with your prop-
erty, and will be absent at least two weeks ; so, un-
less he should take it into his head to carry you along,
we can easily manage about the picture.'
Elsie looked up with a countenance of blank dis-
may.
' Why,' said Adelaide, laughing, " I thought
264 ELSIE DIN SNORE.
you'd be delighted with my news, and instead of that,
you look as if I had read you your death-warrant."
" O Aunt Adelaide ! two whole weeks without
seeing papa ! just think how long. 7
" Pooh ! nonsense, child ! it will be gone before
YOU know it. But now tell 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 it will be
enough ?"
" Hardly, I'm afraid ; but I can lend you some, if
necessary.'
" Thank you, auntie, '' Elsie answered gratefully,
'' you are very kind ; but I couldn't take it, because
papa has told me expressly that I must never borrow
money, nor run into debt in any way."
" Dear me !" exclaimed Adelaide, a little impa-
tiently ; " Horace certainly is the most absurdly
strict person I ever met with. But never mind, I
think we can manage it somehow," she added, in a
livelier tone, as she stooped to kiss her little niece
good-night.
Elsie's gentle rap was heard very early at her papa's
door the next morning.
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 a few weeks ; and though I at
ELSIE DIN SHORE. 265
first thought of taking you with me, upon further
consideration I have decided that it will be better to
leave you here ; yet, if you desire it very much, my
pet, I will take you along. 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, and I
am quite willing to do whatever you say.'
" That is right, daughter ; my little Elsie is a
good, obedient child," 1 he said, pressing her closer
to him.
" When are you going, papa ?' ; she asked, her
voice tremblino- a little.
O
" To-morrow, directly after dinnet, daughte" '
" 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 I am, you will think it very
short. But to make it pass more quickly, you may
write me a little letter every day, and I will send you
one just as often.'
" Oh ! thank you, papa ; that will be so pleasant,"
she answered, with a bri^htenino; countenance. " I
' O O
do so love to get letters, and I would rather have one
from you than from anybody else."
4 ' Ah ? then I think you ought to be willing to
266 ELSIE DINSMORE.
spare me for two weeks. 1 have been thinking my
little girl might perhaps be glad of a little extra
pocket-money for buying Christmas gifts," he said,
taking out his purse. " Would you ?"
" Yes, papa ; oh ! very much, indeed."
He laughed at her eager tone, and putting a fifty-
dollar note into her hand, 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 spend it all, papa ?' :
" Provided you don't throw it away," he answered
gravely ; " but don't forget that I require a strict
account of all your expenditure.'
" Must I tell you every thing I buy ?" she asked,
her countenance falling considerably.
" Yes, my child, you must ; not until after Christ-
mas, however, if you would rather not. '
" I will not mind it so much then," she answered,,
looking quite relieved ; " but indeed, papa, it is a
great deal of trouble.' 1
" Ah ! my little girl must not be lazy, 7 ' 1 he said,
shaking his head gravely.
This was Elsie's first parting from her father since
they had learned to know and love each other ; and
A v hen the time came to say good-by, she clung to-
him, and seemed so loath to let him go, that he
quite repented of his determination to leave her at
home.
11 papa, papa ! I cannot bear to have you go,
ELSIE DIN SHORE. 267
and leave me behind, ' ' she sobbed. l i I feel as if
you were never coming back.'
" AVhy, my own darling,' he said, kissing her
again and again, " Avhy do you talk so ? I shall cer-
tainly be at home again in a fortnight ; but if I had
thought you would feel so badly, I would have
^7 / 4/ /
made arrangements to take you with me. It is too
late now, however, and you must let me go, dearest.
Be a good girl while I am gone, and when I return I
will bring you some handsome presents. '
So saying, he embraced her once more, then put-
ting 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 to her own room to put her arms round
her nurse's neck and hide her tears on her bosom.
' ' Dere, dere, darlin' ! dat will do now. Massa Hor-
ace he be back 'fore long, and ole Chloe don' like
for see her chile 'stressin' herself so," and the large,
dusky hand was passed lovingly over the bright carls,
and tenderly wiped away the falling tears.
" But, mammy ! I'm afraid he will never come
back. I'm afraid the steamboat boiler will burst, or
the cars will run off the track, or
11 Hush, hush, darlin' ! dat's wicked ; you must jes'
trust de Lord to take care of Massa Horace ; He's
jes' as able to do it in one place as in tudder ; 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 book says, ' If any two of you agree ' :
268 ELSIE DINS MO RE.
" Oh ! yes, dear mammy, thank you for remember-
ing it," exclaimed the little girl, lifting her head and
smiling through her tears. ' ' I won't cry any more
now, but will just try to keep thinking how glad I
will be when papa comes home again."
11 A very sensible resolution, my dear," said Ade-
laide, putting her head in at the door ; "so come,
dry your eyes, and let mammy put on your bonnet and
cloak as fast as possible, for I have begged a holiday
for you, and am going to carry you off to the city to
do some shopping, et cetera.'
" 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 and nodding good-naturedly. " But
make haste, my dear, for the carriage is at the door.'
When Elsie laid her head upon her pillow that
night she acknowledged to herself, that in spite of
her father's absence and she had, at times, missed
him sadly the day had been a very short and pleas-
ant one to her, owing to her Aunt Adelaide's thought-
ful kindness in taking her out into new scenes, and
giving agreeable occupation to her thoughts.
She rose at her usual early hour the next morning,
and though feeling lonely, comforted herself with the
hope of receiving the promised letter ; and her face
was full of eager expectation, as her grandfather, in
his usual leisurely manner, opened the bag and dis-
tributed its contents.
ELSIE DIN SMOKE. 269
' Two letters for Elsie !" he said, in a tone of
surprise, just as she was beginning to despair of her
turn coming at all. " Ah ! one is from Horace, I
see ; and the other from Miss Allison, no doubt.'
Elsie could hardly restrain her eagerness while he
held them in his hand, examining and commenting
upon the address, postmark, etc.
But at leno-th he tossed them to her, remarking,
O c? ~
" There ! if you are done vour breakfast, you had
j j '
better run away and read them.'
11 Oh ! thank you, grandpa,' she said, gladly
availing herself of his permission.
" Elsie is fortunate to-day,'' observed Lora, look-
ing after her. " I wonder which she will read first. r '
" Her father's, of course,'' replied Adelaide. " He
is more to her than all the rest of the world put to-
gether. '
" A matter of small concern to the rest of the
world, I opine," remarked Mrs. Dinsmore, drily.
11 Perhaps so, mamma," said Adelaide, quietly ;
" yet I think there are some who prize Elsie's affec-
tion."
Yes, Adelaide was right. Miss Rose's letter was-
neglected and almost forgotten, while Elsie read and
reread her papa's with the greatest delight.
It gave an amusing account of the day's journey ;
but what constituted its chief charm for the little
girl was that it was filled with expressions of the ten-
derest affection for her.
Then came the pleasant task of answering, which
270 ELSIE DINSMORE.
occupied almost all her spare time, for letter-writing
was still, to her, a rather new and difficult business,
Miss Allison having hitherto been her only corre-
spondent. And this was a pleasure which was renewed
every day, for her papa faithfully kept his promise,
each morning bringing her a letter, until at length one
came announcing the speedy return of the writer.
Elsie was almost wild with delight.
"Aunt Adelaide," she cried, running to her to
communicate the glad tidings, " papa says he will
be here this very afternoon."
" Well, my dear, as we have already attended to
all the business that needed to be kept secret from
him, I am very glad to hear it, especially for your
sake," replied Adelaide, looking up for a moment
from the book she was reading, and then returning
to it ao-ain, while her little niece danced out of the
O '
room, with her papa's letter still in her hand, and a
face beaming with happiness.
She met Mrs. Dinsmore in the hall.
" Why are you skipping about in that mad fash-
ion, Elsie?" she asked, severely; "I believe you
will never learn to move and act like a lady."
" I will try, madam, indeed," Elsie answered, sub-
siding into a slow and steady gait which would not
have disgraced a woman of any age ; " but I was so
glad that papa is coming home to-day, that I could
not help skipping."
" Indeed !" and with a scornful toss of the head,
Mrs. Dinsmore sailed past her and entered the draw-
ing-room.
ELSIE DINSMORE. 271
Elsie had once, on her first arrival at Roselands,
addressed Mrs. Dinsmore, in the innocence of her
heart, as " grandma," but that lady's horrified look,
and indignant repudiation of the ancient title, had
made a deep impression on the little girl's memory,
and effectually prevented any repetition of the
offence.
As the hour drew near when her father might rea-
sonably be expected, Elsie took her station at one of
the drawing-room windows overlooking the avenue,
O O '
and the moment the carriage appeared in sight, she
ran out and stood waiting for him on the steps of
the portico.
Mr. Diusmore put out his head as they drove up
the avenue, and the first object thai caught his eye
was the fairy -like form of his little daughter, in her
blue merino dress, and the golden brown curls wav-
ing in the wind. He sprang out and caught her in
his arms the instant the carriage 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 my arms
again !"
" Papa, papa, my own dear, dear papa !" she ex-
claimed, throwing her arms around his neck, " I'm so
happy, now that you have come home safe and well.' ;
" Are you, darling ? but I must not keep you out
in this wind, for it is quite chilly."
He set her down, and leaving the servant to attend
to his bao;gao-e, led her into the hall.
272 ELSIE DINSUORE.
" Will you come into the drawing-room, papa ? n
sbe said ; " there is a bright, 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 no great hurry to see me, and I
want my little girl to myself for half an hour," he
said, leading the way up stairs as he spoke.
They found, as Elsie had reported, a very bright
fire in the dressing-room. A large easy chair was
drawn up near it, and a handsome dressing-gown and
slippers were placed ready for use ; all the work of
Elsie's loving little hands.
He saw it all at a glance, and with a pleased smile,
stooped and kissed her again, saying, * ' My dear little
daughter is very thoughtful for her papa's comfort.'
Then exchanging his warm out- door apparel and
heavy boots for the dressing-gown and slippers, he
seated himself in the chair and took her on 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 be kept for
Christmas ?"
" Keep it for Christmas, papa,'' she answered
gayly. " Christmas is almost here, 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 laughing rejoinder. " And now tell me, have
you been a good girl in my absence ?"
ELSIE DINSMORE. 273
" As good as I ever am, I believe, papa. I tried
very hard ; but you can ask Miss Day."
" Xo, I am entirely satisfied with your report, for
I know my little daughter is quite truthful.'
Elsie colored with pleasure, then calling to mind
the time when he had for a moment suspected her of
falsehood, she heaved a deep sigh, dropping her
head upon his breast.
He seemed to understand her thoughts, for, press-
ing his lips to her forehead, he said gently and kind-
ly, " I think I shall never again doubt my little
daughter's truth."
O
She looked up with a grateful smile.
" Miss Day has gone away to stay until after New
Year's day, papa," she said, " and so our holidays
have begun. r
' ' Ah ! I am very well satisfied, ' ' said he. "1 think
you have earned a holiday, and I hope you will enjoy
it. But I don't know that I shall let you play all the
time," he added with a smile ; " I have some notion
of giving you a lesson now and then, myself.''
"Dear papa, how pleasant !" she exclaimed de-
lightedly ; " I do so love to say lessons to you.'
" Well, then, we will spend an hour together every
morning. But are you ,not to have some com-
pany ?"
" Oh ! yes, papa, quite a house full," she said
with a slight sigh. " The Percys, and the Howards,
and all the Carringtons, and some others too, I be-
lieve."
274 ELSIE D INSHORE.
" Wl.y do you sigh, daughter ?" he asked ; "do
you not expect to enjoy their company ?"
1 ' Ye-j, sir, I hope so, ' ' she answered, rather dubi-
ously ; " but when there are 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 you better than anything else ; it is so sweet to
be quite alone with my own darling papa," and the
little arm stole softly round his neck again, and the
rosy lips touched his cheek.
" AYell, when are the little plagues coming ?" he
asked, returning her caress.
" 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."
11 Why, you brought back a new one, papa, didn't
you ?' ' asked Elsie, as John carried in one she was
sure she had never seen before, and in obedience 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 the key. " And now, daughter, get
down and see what you can find in it worth hav-
ing."
Elsie needed no second bidding, but in an instant
was on her knees beside the trunk, eager to examine
its contents.
ELSIE D INSHORE. 275
" Take the lid off the band-box first, and see what
is there," said her father.
" papa, how very pretty !" she cried, as she
lifted out a beautiful little velvet hat adorned with a
couple of ostrich feathers.
" I am very glad it pleases you, my darling,'" he
said, putting it on her head, 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 look further.
" I am reserving the present for Christmas," he
said, in answer to her inquiring look.
Elsie turned to the trunk again.
11 Dear papa, how good you are to me !" she said r
looking up at him, almost with tears of pleasure in
her eyes, as she lifted out, one after another, a num-
ber of costly toys, which she examined with excla-
mations of delight, and then several handsome
dresses, some of the finest, softest merino, and others
of thick, rich silk, all ready made in fashionable
style, and doing credit to his taste and judgment ;
and lastly a beautiful velvet pelisse, trimmed with
costly fur, just the thing 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 wero all cut by the
same pattern one of your old dresse which I took
with me I presume they will all fit alike. There,
276 ELSIE D1NSMORE.
take this one to mammy, and tell her to put it on
you, and then come back to me."
' Oh ! I wondered how you could get them the
right size, papa, ' : Elsie answered, as she skipped
gayly out of the room.
She was back again in a very few moments, ar-
rayed in the pretty silk he had selected.
' Ah ! it seems to be a perfect fit," said he, turn-
ing her round and round, with a very gratified look.
" Mammy must dress you to-morrow in one of
these new frocks, and your pretty hat and pelisse. ' :
Elsie looked troubled.
11 Well, what is it?" he asked.
" I am afraid I shall be thinking of them in
O
church, papa, if I wear them then for the first time."
" Pooh ! nonsense ! what harm if you do ? This
squeamishness, Elsie, is the one thing about you that
displeases me very much. But there ! don't look so
distressed, my pet. I dare say you will get over it
by-and-by, and be all I wish ; indeed I sometimes
think you have improved a little already, in that
respect. ' :
Oh ! what a pang these words sent to her heart !
was it indeed true that she was losing her tenderness
of conscience ? that she was becomino- less afraid of
O
displeasing and dishonoring her Saviour than in
former days ? The very thought was ano-uish.
J ./ O O
Her head drooped upon her bosom, and the small
white hands were clasped convulsively together, while
a bitter, repenting cry, a silent earnest prayer for
ELSIE D INSHORE. 277
pardon and help went up to Him whose ear is ever
open to the cry of His children.
Her father looked at her in astonishment.
" What is it, darling ?" he asked, drawing her ten-
derly toward him, and pushing back the curls from
her face ; " why do you look so pained ? what did I
say that could have hurt you so ? I did not mean to
be harsh and severe, 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 1 t be afraid to tell
me," he answered, soothingly.
' ' papa ! I I am afraid I don't love Jesus
as much as I did," she faltered out between her sobs.
" Ah ! that is it, eh ? Well, well, you needn't
cry any more. / think you are a very good little
girl, though rather a silly one, I am afraid, and quite
too morbidly conscientious.'
He took her on his knee as he spoke, wiped away
her tears, and then began talking in a lively strain of
something else.
O
Elsie listened, and answered him cheerfully, but all
the evening he noticed that whenever she was quiet,
an unusual expression of sadness would steal over her
face.
" What a strange child she is !" he said to him-
self, as he sat musing over the fire, after sending her
to bed. " I cannot understand her ; it is very odd
how often I wound, when I intend to please her."
2-S ELSIE DIN SHORE.
As for Elsie, she scarcely thought of her new fine-
ry, so troubled was her tender conscience, so pained
her little heart to think that she had been wandering
from her dear Saviour.
But Elsie had learned that " if any man sin, we
have an advocate with the Father, Jesus Christ the
righteous," and to Him she went with her sin and
sorrow ; she applied anew to the pardoning, peace-
speaking blood of Christ that * ' blood of sprinkling
that speaketh better things than that of Abel ;" and
thus the sting of conscience was taken away and her
peace restored, and she was soon resting quietly on
her pillow, for, lt so He giveth His beloved sleep."
Even her father's keen, searching glance, when she
came to him in the morning, could discover no trace
of sadness in her face ; very quiet and sober it was,
but entirely peaceful and happy, and so it remained
all through the day. Her new clothes did not trouble
/
her ; she was hardly conscious of wearing them, and
quite able to give her usual solemn and fixed atten-
tion to the services of the sanctuary.
11 Where are you going, daughter ?" Mr. Dinsmore
/ ^
asked, as Elsie gently withdrew her hand from his
on leaving the dining-room.
^j * ?
" To my room, papa," she replied.
i l Come with me, ' ' he said ; " 1 want you. '
' ' What do you want me for, papa ?" she asked,
as he sat down and took her on his knee.
' ' What for ? why to keep, to love, and to look
at," he said laughing. " I have been away from my
EL8IE DIN SHORE, 279
little girl so long, that now I want her close by my
side, or on my knee, all the time. Do you not like
to be with me ?"
" Dearly well, my own darling papa," she an-,
swered, flinging her little arms round his neck, and
laying her head on his breast.
He fondled her, and chatted with her for some
time, then, still keeping her on his knee, took up a
book and began to read.
Elsie saw with pain that it was a novel, and longed
to beg him to put it away, and spend the precious
hours of the holy Sabbath in the study of God's
word, or some of the lesser helps to Zion's pilgrims
which the saints of our own or other ages have pre-
pared. But she knew that it would be quite out of
place for a little child like her to attempt to counsel
or reprove her father ; and that, tenderly as he loved
and cherished her, he would never for one moment
allow her to forget their relative positions.
At length she ventured to ask softly, " Papa, may
I go to my own room now ?"
' ' What for 2" he asked ; ' * are you tired of my
company ?"
" No, sir, oh! no ; but I want " she hesitated
and hung her head for an instant, while the rich color
mounted to cheek and brow ; then raising it again,
she said fearlessly, * ' I always want to spend a little
while with my best Friend on Sabbath afternoon,
papa.'
He looked puzzled, and also somewhat displeased.
2 So ELSIE DINSMORE.
" I don't understand you, Elsie," he said ; " you
surely can Lave no better friend than your own fa-
ther ; and can it be iiossible that you love any one
else better than you love me ?"
Again the little arms were round his neck, and
hugging him close and closer, she whispered, " It
was Jesus I meant, papa ; you know He loves me even
better than you do, and I must love Him best of all \
but there is no one else that I love half so much as I
love you, my own dear, dear, precious father."
11 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, " stay as long
as you like ; if you feel it a punishment to be kept
here with me, I would rather do without you."
" Oh ! no, no, papa," she said beseechingly, and
with tears in her eves ; "I do so love to be with
you. Please don't be angry ; please let ire come
back soon.'
" No, darling, I am not angry," he answered,
smoothing her hair and smiling kindly on her ;
come back just when you like, and the sooner the
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 novel again, while she drew a stool to
his side, and, sitting down, leaned her head against
liis knee, and read until the short winter day began
ELSIE DIN SHORE. 281
to close in, and Mr. Dinsmore, whose hand had been
every now and then laid caressingly upon her curls,
said, " Put away your book now, daughter ; it is
growing too dark for you to read without straining
your eyes."
" Please, papa, let me finish the paragraph first ;
may I ?' 1 she asked.
" Xo ; you must always obey the instant I speak
to YOU."
/
Elsie rose at once, and without another word laid
her books upon the table ; then coming back, claimed
her accustomed place upon his knee, with her head
resting on his shoulder.
He put his arm round 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 did you 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.'*
" Xext to the Bible, eh ? well, I believe you are
the only little girl of my acquaintance who thinks that
the most beautiful and interesting book 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 it not ?"
" Foolish ! papa ; oh ! I am sure you don't mean
it ; you couldn't think it foolish. Ah ! I know by
282 ELSIE DINSMORE.
your smile that you are only saying it to tease me.
It is a beautiful story, papa, about Christian : how
he lived in the City of Destruction, and had a great
burden on his back, which he tried in every way to
get rid of, but all in vain, until he came to the Cross ;
but then it seemed suddenly to loosen of itself, and
dropped from his back, and rolled away, and fell into
the sepulchre, where it could not be seen any more."
" Well, and is not that a foolish story ? can you
see any sense or meaning in it ?" he asked, with a
slight smile, and a keen glance into the eager little
face upturned to his.
" Ah ! papa, I know what it means," she an-
swered, in a half -sorrowful tone. " Christian, with
the load on his back, is a person who has been con-
vinced of sin by God's Holy Spirit, and feels his sins
a heavy burden too heavy for him to bear ; and then
he tries to get rid of them by leaving off his wicked
ways, and by doing good deeds ; but he soon finds he
can't get rid of his load that way, for it only grows
heavier and heavier, until at last he gives up trying to
save himself, and just goes to the cross of Jesus
Christ ; and the moment he looks to Jesus and trusts
in Him, his load of sins is all gone."
Mr. Dinsmore was surprised ; as indeed he had
often been at Elsie's knowledge of spiritual things.
" Who told you all that ?" he asked.
" I read it in the Bible, papa ; and besides, I
know, because I have felt it. "
He did not speak again for some moments ; and
ELSIE DINSMORE. 283
then he said very gravely, ' ' I am afraid you read too
many of those dull books. I don't want you to read
things that fill you with sad and gloomy thoughts,
and make you unhappy. I want my little girl to be
merry and happy as the day is long. '
" Please don't forbid me to read them, papa," she
pleaded with a look of apprehension, " for indeed
they don't make me unhappy, and I love them so
dearly."
" You need not be alarmed. I shall not do so un-
less I see that they do affect your spirits," he an-
swered in a reassuring tone, and she thanked him
\vith her own bright, sweet smile.
She was silent for a moment, then asked suddenly,
j '
" Papa, may I say some verses to you ?"
" Some time," he said, " but not now, for there is
the tea-bell ;" and taking her hand, he led her down
to the dining-room.
They went to the drawing-room after tea, but did
not stay long. There were no visitors, and it was
very dull and quiet there, no one seeming inclined
for conversation. Old Mr. Dinsmore sat nodding in
his chair, Louise was drumming on the piano, and
the rest were reading or sitting listlessly, saying noth-
ing, and Elsie and her papa soon slipped away to
their old seat by his dressing-room fire.
" Sing something for me, my pet, some of those
little hymns I often hear you singing to yourself,'
he said, as he took her on his knee ; and Elsie
gladly obeyed.
284 ELSIE DINSMORE.
Some of the pieces she sang alone, but in others,
which were familiar to him, her father joined his deep
bass notes to her sweet treble, at which she was
greatly delighted. Then they read several chapters
of the Bible together, and thus the evening passed so
quickly and pleasantly that she was very much sur-
prised when her papa, taking out his watch, told her
it was her bed-time.
i O papa ! it has been such a nice, nice evening !' r
she said, as she bade him good-night ; " so like
the dear old times I used to have with Miss 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 you will have to do all the pray-
ing for yourself and me too, ' : ' he said, with a vain
effort to speak lightly, for both heart and conscience
were touched.
The only reply was a tightening of the clasp of the
little arms about his neck, and a half-suppressed sob ;
then two trembling lips touched his, a warm tear
fell on his cheek, and she turned away and ran quick-
ly from the room.
Oh ! how earnest and importunate were Elsie's
pleadings at a throne of grace that night, that her
ELSIE DINSMORE. 285
" dear, dear papa might soon be taught to love Jesus,
and how to pray to Him.'' Tears fell fast while she
prayed, but she rose from her knees feeling a joyful
assurance that her petitions 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 falls asleep,'' placed
himself in a chair close by her side, taking her hand
in 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 lighting up with pleased surprise.
" Are you ?" he answered with a smile. " I'm
afraid lam spoiling you ; but I can't help it to-night.
I think you forgot your wish to repeat some verses-
to me ?"
" Oh ! yes, papa !" she said, " but may I say~
them now ?"
He nodded assent, and she went on. lt They are
some Miss Rose sent me in one of her letters. She
cut them out of a newspaper, she said, and sent them
to me because she liked them so much ; and I too
think they are very 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.
286 ELSIE D INSHORE.
41 ' 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.
* 4 ' 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.
ELSIE DIN8MORE. 287
" ' 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.' " *
He was silent for a moment after she had repeated
the last verse, then laying his hand softly on her
head, and looking searchingly into her eyes, he
asked, " And does my little one really wish all that
those words express ?''
" Yes, papa, for myself and you too," she an-
swered. " O papa ! I do want to be all that Jesus
would have me ! just like Him ; so like Him that
everybody who knows me will see the likeness and
know that I belong to Him."
" Nay, you belong to me, ' :l he said, leaning over
her and patting her cheek. " Hush ! not a syllable
from your lips ! I will have no gainsaying of my
words," he added, with a mixture of authority and
playfulness, as she seemed about to reply. " Now
shut your eyes and go to sleep ; 1 will have 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 soon her soft
regular breathing told that she had passed into the
land of dreams.
* These beautiful words are not mine, nor do I know
either the name of the author or where they were origi-
nally published
288 ELSIE DINSMORE.
Her father sat, still holding the little band, and
still gazing tenderly upon the sweet young face, till,
something in its expression reminding 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 forbid that
you should be taken from me to that place where I
can see that your heart is even now. How desolate
should I be !" and he turned away with a shiver and
a heavy sigh, and hastily quitted the room.
Chapter
" An angel face ! its sunny wealth of hair,
In radiant ripples bathed the graceful throat
And dimpled shoulders."
MRS. OSGOOI>,
THE cold gray light of a winter morning was steal-
ing in through the half-closed blinds as Elsie awoke,
and started up in bed, with the thought that this was
the day on which several of her young guests were
expected, and that her papa had promised her a
walk with him before breakfast, if she were ready in
time.
Aunt Chloe had already risen, and a bright fire
was blazing and crackling on the hearth, which she
was carefully sweeping up.
" Good morning, mammy," said the little girl*
" Are you ready to dress me now ?"
What, you 'wake, darlin' ?" cried the fond old
. .
290 ELSIE DINSMORE.
creature, turning quickly round at the sound of her
nursling's voice. " Better lie still, honey, till de
room gets warm.' :
4< I'll wait a little while, mammy,'" Elsie said,
lying down again, u but I must get up soon ; for I
wouldn't miss my walk with papa for a great deal.
Please throw the shutters wide open, and let the day-
light in. I'm so glad it has come.'
" Why, my bressed lamb, you didn't lie awake
lookin' for de mornin', did you ? You ain't sick,
nor sufferin' any way ?" exclaimed Chloe, in a tone
of mingled concern and inquiry, as she hastily set
down her broom, and came toward the bed, with a
look of loving anxiety on her dark face.
' ' Oh, no, mammy ! I slept nicely, and feel as well
as can be," replied the little girl ; " but I am glad
to see this new day, because I hope it is going to be
a very happy one. Carry Howard, and a good many
of my little friends are coming, you know, and I think
we will have a very pleasant time together.'
" Your ole mammy hopes you will, darlin'," re-
plied Chloe, heartily ; " an' I'se glad 'nough to see
you lookin' so bright an' well ; but jes you lie still
till it gets warm here. I'll open de shutters, an' fotch
some more wood for de fire, an' clar up de room, an'
by dat time I reckon you can get up.'
Elsie waited patiently till Chloe pronounced the
room warm enough, then sprang up with an eager
haste, asking to be dressed as quickly as possible,
that she might go to her papa.
ELSIE DINSMORE. 291
" Don't you go for to worry yourself, darlin' ;
dere's plenty ob time," said Chloe, beginning her
work with all speed, however ; " de mistress hab
ordered de breakfast at nine, dese holiday times, to
let de ladies an' gen'lemen take a mornin' nap if
dey likes it. '
" Oh, yes, mammy ! and that reminds me that papa
said I must eat a cracker or something before I take
my walk, because he thinks it isn't good for people
to exercise much on an entirely empty stomach, ' ;
said Elsie. " AYill you get me one when you have
done my curls ?"
" Yes, honey, dere's a paper full in de drawer yon-
der," replied Chloe, "an' I reckon you better eat
two or three, or you'll be mighty hungry 'fore you
gits your breakfast.'
It still wanted a few minutes of eight o'clock when
Elsie's gentle rap was heard at her papa's dressing-
room door. He opened it, and stooping to give her
a good-morning kiss, said, with a pleased smile,
" How bright and well my darling looks ! Had you
a good night's rest ?' ;
' ' Oh, yes, papa ! I never waked once till it began
to be light," she replied ; " and now I'm all ready
for our walk.'
" In good season, too,"' he said. " Well, we will
start presently ; but take off your hat and come
and sit on my knee a little while first : breakfast
will be late this morning, and we need not hurry.
Did you get something to eat I" he asked, as he
292 ELSIE DIN SHORE.
seated himself by the fire and drew her to his
side.
" Yes, papa, I ate a cracker, and I think 1 will
not get very hungry before nine o'clock ; and I'm
very glad we have so much time for our walk," she
replied, as she took her place on his knee. " Shall
we not start soon 2"
" Presently," he said, stroking her hair ; " but it
will not hurt you to get well warmed first, for it is a
sharp morning. ' :
" You are very careful of me, dear papa," she said,
laying her head on his breast, " and oh ! it is so nice
to have a papa to love me and take care of me.'
" And it is so nice to have a dear little daughter
O
to love and to take care of, ' ' he answered, pressing
her closer to him.
The house was still very quiet, no one seeming
to be astir but the servants, as Mr. Dinsmore and
Elsie went down the stairs and passed out through
the hall.
* ' papa ! it is going to be such a nice day, and
I feel so happy !" Elsie gayly exclaimed, as they
started down the avenue.
" Do you, daughter ?" he said, regarding her with
an expression of intense yearning affection ; " I wish
I could make you always as gay and happy as you
are at this moment. But alas ! it cannot be, my
darling," he added with a sigh.
" I know that, papa," she said with sudden gravi-
ty, " ' for man that is born of woman is of few days,
ELSIE DIN SHORE. 293
and full of trouble,' the Bible says ; but I don't feel
frightened at that, because it tells me, besides, that
Jesus loves me, oh, SQ dearly ! and will never leave
nor forsake me ; and that He has all power in heaven
and in earth, and will never let anything happen t,o
me but what shall do me good. O papa, it is such
a happy thing to have the dear Lord Jesus for your
friend !"
" It is strange how everything seems to lead your
thoughts to Him," he said, giving her a wondering
look.
" Yes, papa, it is because I love Him so," she an-
swered, simply ; and the father sighed as the thought
arose, " Better than she loves me, even as she told
me herself. Ah ! I would I could be all everything
to her, as she is fast becoming to me. I cannot feel
satisfied, and yet I believe few daughters love their
fathers as well as she loves me ;" and fondly press-
ing the little hand he held, he looked down upon her
with beaming eyes.
She raised hers to his face with an expression of
confiding affection ; and, as though she had read his
thoughts : " Yes, papa," she said, " I love you dear-
ly, dearly, too ; better than all the world besides."
Breakfast always a plentiful and inviting meal at
Roselands was already upon the table when they
returned, and they brought to it appetites sufficiently
keen to make it very enjoyable.
Elsie spent the first hour after breakfast at the
piano, practising, and the second in her papa's
294 ELSIE DINSMORE.
dressing-room, studying and reciting to him ; then
they took a long ride on horseback, and when they
returned she found that quite a number of the ex-
pected guests had already arrived.
Among them was Caroline Howard, a favorite
friend of Elsie's ; a pretty, sweet-tempered little girl,
about a year older than herself.
Caroline had been away paying a long visit to some
friends in the Xorth, and so the two little girls had
not met for nearly a year, and of course they had a
great deal to say to each other.
They chatted a few moments in the drawing-room,
and then Elsie carried her friend off with her to her
own room, that they might go on with their talk
while she was getting dressed for dinner. Caroline
had much to tell of her Northern relatives, and of all
she had seen and heard, and Elsie of her new-found
parent, and her happiness in being so loved and cared
for ; and so the little tongues ran very fast, neither
of them feeling Chloe's presence any restraint. But
she soon completed her task, and went out, leaving
the two sitting on the sofa together, laughing and
talking merrily while awaiting the summons to din-
O *' O
ner, which they were to take that day along with their
elders.
" How pretty your hair is, Elsie," said Caroline,
winding the glossy ringlets around her finger. " I
wish you'd give me one of these curls. I want to
get a bracelet made for mamma, and she thinks so
much of you, and your hair is such a lovely color,
ELSIE D INSHORE. 295
that I am sure she would be delighted with one made
of it."
46 A Christmas gift is it to be ?' ! asked Elsie ;
* ' but how will you get it done in time ? for you know
day after to-morrow is Christmas.'
" Yes, I know ; but if I could get into the city
this afternoon, I think I might get them to promise
it by to-morrow night.'
" "Well, you shall have the curl, at any rate, if you
will just take the scissors and help yourself, and poor
mammv will have the fewer to curl the next time,"
/
Elsie answered, laughingly. " But mind," she add-
ed, as Caroline prepared to avail herself of the per-
mission, " that you take it where it will not be
missed."
" Of course I will ; I don't want to spoil your
beauty, though you are so much prettier than I," was
Caroline's laughing rejoinder. " There," she cried,
holding up the severed ringlet, " isn't it a beauty ?
but don't look scared, it will never be missed among
so many ; I don't even miss it myself, although I
know it is gone."
" Well," Elsie said, shaking back her curls, " sup-
pose we go down to the drawing-room now, and I
will ask papa to take us to the city this afternoon ;
or, if he is too busy to go himself, to let Pomp or
Ajax drive us in.'
" I think it would be better fun to go alone, Elsie
don't you ?" asked Caroline, with some hesita-
tion ; adding quickly: "Don't be vexed, but I
296 ELSIE DIN SNORE.
must confess I am more than half afraid of your
father. ' '
" Oh ! you wouldn't be, Carry, if you knew him,"
Elsie answered, in her eager way ; " I was a little
myself, at first, but now I love him so dearly, I
never want to go anywhere without him."
They found Mr. Dinsmore in the drawing-room,
where most of the guests and the older members of
the family were assembled. He was conversing with
a strange gentleman, and his little girl stood quietly
at his side, patiently waiting until he should be
ready to give her his attention. She had to wait
some moments, for the gentlemen were discussing
some political question, and were too much engaged
to notice her.
But at length her father put his arm around her,.
and with a kind smile asked, " What is it, daugh-
ter ?"
* ' Carry and I want to go to the city, this after-
noon ; won't you take us, papa ?"
" I wish I could, my dear, but I have an engage,
ment, which makes it quite impossible."
" Ah, I'm so sorry ! but then, papa, we may have
one of the carriages, and Pomp or Ajax to drive us,
may we not ?"
" No, daughter ; I am sorry to disappoint you, but
I am afraid you are too young to be trusted on such
an expedition with only a servant. You must wait
until to-morrow, when I can take you myself."
" But, papa, we want to go to-day. Oh ! please
ELSIE DIN SHORE. 297
do say yes ; we want to go so very much, and I'm
sure we could do very nicely by ourselves.'
Her arm was around his neck, and both tone and
look were very coaxing.
" My little daughter forgets that when papa says
no, she is never to ask again."
Elsie blushed and hung her head. His manner
was quite too grave and decided for her to venture
another word.
" What is the matter ? what does Elsie want ?"
asked Adelaide, who was standing near, and had
overheard enough to have some idea of the trouble.
Mr. Dinsmore explained, and Adelaide at once
offered to take charge of the little girls, saying that
she intended shopping a little in the city herself that
very afternoon.
" Thank you, r said her brother, looking very
much pleased ; " that obviates the difficulty entirely.
Elsie, you may go, if Mrs. Howard gives Caroline
permission."
" Thank you, dear papa, thank you so very much,'*
she answered gratefully, and then ran away to tell
Carry of her success, and secure Mrs. Howard's per-
mission, which was easily obtained.
Elsie had intended buying some little present for
each of the house-servants, and had taken a great deal
of pleasure in making out a list of such articles as
she thought would be suitable ; but, on examining
her purse, she found to her dismay that she had al-
ready spent so much on the miniature, and various
298 ELSIE DINSMORE.
gifts intended for other members of the family, that
there was very little left ; and it was with a very
sober, almost sorrowful face, that she came down to
take her place in the carriage ; it brightened instant-
ly, though, as she caught sight of her father waiting
to see her off.
" All ready, my darling ?" he said, holding out
his hand ; " I think you will have a pleasant ride.'
" Ah ! yes, if you were only going too, papa," she
answered regretfully.
" Quite impossible, my pet ; but here is something
to help you in your shopping ; use it wisely ;" and
he put a twenty-dollar gold piece in her hand.
" Oh, thank you, papa ! how good and kind you
are to me !" she exclaimed, her whole face lighting up
with pleasure ; 4 * now I can buy some things I wanted
to get for mammy and the rest. But how could you
know I wanted more money ?"
He only smiled, lifted her up in his arms, and
kissed her fondly ; then, placing her in the car-
riage, said to the coachman, * ' Drive carefully, Ajax ;
you are carrying my greatest treasure.'
" Nebber fear, marster ; dese ole horses nebber
tink ob running away," replied the negro, with a
bow and a grin, as he touched his horses with the
whip, and drove off.
It was growing quite dark when the carriage again
drove up the avenue ; and Mr. Horace Dinsmore, who
was beginning to feel a little anxious, came out to re-
ceive them, and ask what had detained them so long-.
ELSIE DINSMORE. 299
" Long !" said Adelaide, in a tone of surprise,
" you gentlemen really have no idea what an under-
taking it is to shop. Why, I thought we got through
in a wonderfully short time."
" O papa, I have bought such quantities of nice
things," cried Elsie, springing into his arms.
" Such as tobacco pipes, red flannel, et cetera,"
remarked Adelaide, laughing.
" Indeed, Miss Adelaide !" exclaimed Carry,
somewhat indignantly, " you forget the "
But Elsie's little hand was suddenly placed over
her mouth, and Carry laughed pleasantly, saying,
" Ah ! I forgot, I mustn't tell."
1 ( Papa, papa," cried Elsie, catching hold of his
hand, " do come with me to my room, and let me
show you my purchases."
4 ' I will, darling, " he answered, pinching her cheek.
41 Here, Bill" to a servant " carry these bundles
to Miss Elsie's room.'
Then, picking her up, he tossed her over his shoul-
der, and carried her up-stairs as easily as though she
had been a baby, she clinging to him and laughing
merrily.
" Why, papa, how strong you are," she said, as
he set her down. " I believe you can carry me as
easily as I can my doll.'
" To be sure ; you are my doll," said he, " and a
very light burden for a man of my size and strength.
But here come the bundles ! what a number ! no
wonder you were late in getting home."
3o ELSIE DIN SHORE.
" Oh ! yes, papa, see ! I want to show you !" and
catching up one of them, she hastily tore it open,
displaying a very gay handkerchief. " This is a tur-
ban for Aunt Phillis ; and this is a pound of tobacco
for old Uncle Jack, and a nice pipe, too. Look,
mammy ! won't he be pleased ? And here's some
flannel for poor old Aunt Dinah, who has the rheuma-
tism ; and that oh ! no, no, mammy ! don't you
open that ! It's a nice shawl for her, papa," she
whispered in his ear.
" Ah !" he said, smiling ; " and which is my pres-
ent ? You had better point it out, lest I should stum-
ble upon it and learn the secret too soon."
" There is none here for you, sir," she replied,
looking up into his face with an arch smile. " I
would give you the bundle you carried up-stairs, just
now, but I'm afraid you would say that was not mine
to give, because it belongs to you already."
" Indeed it does, and I feel richer in that posses-
sion than all the gold of California could make me.,"
he said, pressing her to his heart.
She looked surpassingly lovely at that moment, her
cheeks burning, and her eyes sparkling with excite-
ment ; the dark, fur-trimmed pelisse, and the velvet
hat and plumes, setting off to advantage the white-
ness of her pure complexion, and the glossy ringlets
falling in rich masses on her shoulders.
^j/
11 My own papa ! I'm so glad I do belong to you,"
she said, throwing her arms around his neck, and
laying her cheek to his for an instant. Then spring-
ELSIE DINSMORE. 301
ing away, she added : " But I must show you the
rest of the things ; there are a good many more."
And she went on opening bundle after bundle,
displaying their contents, and telling him for whom
she intended them, until at last they had all been
J
examined, and then she said, a little wearily, u Now
mammy, please put them all away until to-morrow.
But first take off my things, and get me ready to go
down-stairs.'
11 Xo, daughter,' 1 ' Mr. Dinsmore said in a gentle
but firm tone ; " you are not ready to have them put
away until the price of each has been set down in
your book.'
"Oh! papa, r she pleaded, "won't to-morrow
do ? I'm tired now, and isn't it almost tea-time ?"
" Xo ; never put off till to-morrow what may as
well be done to-day. There is nearly an hour yet
before tea, and I do not think it need fatigue you
much.'
Elsie's face clouded, and the slightest approach to
a pout might have been perceived.
" I hope my little girl is not going to be naughty,"
he said, very gravely.
Her face brightened in an instant. " Xo, papa,' :
she answered cheerfully, " I will be good, and do
whatever you bid me. '
" That is my own darling," said he, " and I will
help you, and it will not take long. r
He opened her writing-desk as he spoke, and took
out her account-book.
302 ELSIE DIN SNORE.
" Oh ! papa," she cried in a startled tone, spring-
ing forward and taking hold of his hand, " please,
please don't look ! you know you said I need not
show you until after Christmas."
" No, I will not," he replied, smiling at her eager-
ness ; " you shall put down the items in the book,
%vhile I write the labels, and Aunt Chloe pins them
on. Will that do ?"
" Oh ! that's a nice plan, papa," she said gayly,
as she threw off her hat and pelisse, and seating her-
self before the desk, took out her pen and ink.
Chloe put the hat and pelisse carefully away,
brought a comb and brush, and smoothed her nurs-
ling's hair, and then began her share of the business
on hand.
Half an hour's work finished it all, and Elsie wiped
lier pen, and laid it away, saying joyously, " Oh !
I'm so glad it is all done.'
" Papa knew best, after all, did he not ?" asked
her father, drawing her to him, and patting her
cheek.
" Yes, papa," she said softly ; " you always know
best, and I am very so try I was naughty."
He answered with a kiss, and, taking her hand, led
her down to the drawing-room.
After tea the young people adjourned to the nursery,
where they amused themselves with a variety of in-
nocent games. Quite early in the evening, and great-
ly to Elsie's delight, her father joined them ; and,
though some of the young strangers were at first
ELSIE DINSMORE. 3>
rather sliy of him, they soon found that he could
enter heartily into their sports, and before the time
came to separate for the night, he had made himself
very popular with nearly all.
Time flew fast, and Elsie was very much surprised,
when the clock struck eight. Half-past was her bed-
time ; and, as she now and then glanced up at the-
dial-plate, she thought the hands had never moved
so fast. As it struck the half hour she drew near
her father's side.
" Papa," she asked, " is the clock right ?"
" Yes, my dear, it is,' 1 ' he replied, comparing it
with his watch.
" And must I go to bed now ?" she asked, half
hoping for permission to stay up a little longer.
* ' Yes, daughter ; keep to rules. '
Elsie looked disappointed, and several little voices-
urged, " Oh ! do let her stay up another hour, or at
least till nine o'clock."
" Xo ; I cannot often allow a departure from
rules," he said kindly, but firmly ; " and to-morrow
night Elsie will find it harder to go to bed in season
than to-night. Bid your little friends good-night^
my dear, and go at once.'
Elsie obeyed, readily and cheerfully. " You, too r
papa," she said, coming to him last.
" No, darling, r he answered, laying his hand
caressingly on her head, and smiling approvingly on
her ; "I will come for my good-night kiss before
you are asleep."
304 ELSIE DINSMORE.
Elsie looked very glad, and went away feeling her-
self the happiest little girl in the land, in spite of the
.annoyance of being forced to leave the merry group
in the nursery. She was just ready for bed when
her papa came in, and, taking her in his arms, folded
lier to his heart, saying, " My own darling ! my
o-ood, obedient little daughter !"
-O ^
" Dear papa, I love you so much !" she replied,
twining her arms around his neck, " I love you all
the better for never letting me have my own way,
but always making me obey and keep to rules. r
" I don't doubt it, daughter," he said, " for I have
often noticed that spoiled, petted children, usually
have very little love for their parents, or indeed for
any one but themselves. But I must put you in
your bed, or you will be in danger of taking cold."
He laid her down, tucked the clothes snugly about
her, and pressing one more kiss on the round, rosy
cheek, left her to her slumbers.
Cfrajrbr Jfmtrtemtlr.
" You play the spaniel,
And think with wagging of your tongue to win me."
SHAKS., HENRY EIGHTH.
" These delights, if thou canst give,
Mirth, with thee I mean to live."
MILTON'S I/ALLEGRO.
THE young party at Roselands had now grown so
several additions having been made to it on
o
Monday afternoon and evening that a separate table-
was ordered to be spread for them in the nursery,
where they took their meals together ; Mrs. Brown,
the housekeeper, taking the head of the table, for the
double purpose of keeping them in order, and seeing
that their wants were well supplied.
Elsie came in to breakfast, from a brisk walk with
her papa, looking fresh and rosy, and bright as the
morning ; quite different from some of the little
guests, who had been up far beyond their usual hours
the night before, and, having just left their beds, had
come down pale and languid in looks, and in some
instances showing peevish and fretful tempers, very
trying to the patience of their attendants.
O Elsie !" exclaimed Carry Howard, as the lit-
u
306 ELSIE D1NSMORE.
tie girl took her place at the table, " we were all so
sorry that you had to leave us so soon last night ;
we had lots of fun after you left. I think your papa
might have let you stay up a little longer ; but he
lias promised that to-night as we arc to have the
Christmas-tree, and ever so much will be going on
you shall stay up till half- past nine, if you like.
Aren't you glad ? I'm sure I am."
" Yes, papa is very kind, and I know I feel much
better for going to bed early last night," said Elsie,
cheerfully.
11 Yes, indeed," remarked Mrs. Brown, u late hours
and rich food are very bad for little folks, and I
notice that Miss Elsie has grown a deal stronger and
healthier-looking since her papa came home ; he
takes such good care of her. '
" Indeed he does," said Elsie heartily, thanking
Mrs. Brown with one of her sweetest smiles.
" What are we going to do to-day, Elsie ?" asked
^Caroline.
" Whatever you all prefer," said Elsie. " If you
like I will practise that duet with you the first hour
after breakfast, or do anything else you wish ; but
the second hour I must spend with papa, and after
that I have nothing to do but entertain my company
all day."
11 Do you do lessons in holidays ?" asked Mary
Leslie, a merry, fun-loving child, about Elsie's own
age, who considered lessons an intolerable bore, and
had some vague idea that they must have been in-
ELSIE D1NSMORE. 307
vented for the sole purpose of tormenting* children.
Her blue eyes opened wide with astonishment when
Elsie quietly replied that her papa had kindly ar-
ranged to give her an hour every morning, because he
knew it would be so much pleasanter for her than
spending the whole day in play.
Elsie did keenly enjoy that quiet hour spent in
studying and reciting to her father, sitting on a low
stool at his feet, or perhaps oftener on his knee, with
his arm around her waist.
She had an eager and growing thirst for knowledge,,
and was an apt scholar, whom any one with the least
love for the profession might have delighted in teach-
ing ; and Mr. Dinsmore, a thorough scholar himself,
and loving knowledge for its own sake loving also
his little pupil with all a father's fond, yearning-
affection delio-hted in his task.
O
When Elsie left her father she found that the Car-
ringtons had just arrived. She and Lucy had not
seen each other since the week the latter had spent
at Roselands early in the summer, and both felt
pleased to meet.
Mrs. Carrington gave Elsie a warm embrace, re-
marking that she had grown, and was looking ex-
tremely well ; better than she had ever seen her. But
no one was more delighted to meet Elsie than Herbert,
and she was very glad to learn that his health was
gradually improving. He was not, however, at all
strong, even yet, and his mother thought it best for
him to lie down and rest a little after his ride. She
3 8 ELSIE DINSMORE.
promised to sit by him, and the two little girls went
in search of the rest of the young folks.
Several of the older boys had gone out walking or
riding, but the younger ones, and all the little girls,
were gathered in a little back parlor, where, by Ade-
laide's care and forethought, a variety of story-books,
toys, and games, had been provided for their amuse-
ment. Elsie's entrance was hailed with delio-ht, for
o '
she was a general favorite.
" Oh ! Elsie, can't you tell us what to play ?'"' cried
JSIary Leslie ; " I'm so tired," and she yawned wearily.
; Here are some dissected maps, Mary," 1 replied
Elsie, opening a drawer ; " would you not like them ?"
' No, indeed, thank you ; they are too much like
lessons.'
" Here are blocks ; will you build houses ?"
' Oh ! I am too big for that ; they are very nice
for little children.' 1
" Will you play jack-stones ? here are some smooth
pebbles. ' :
" Yes, if you, and Carry, and Lucy, will play
with me.'
" Agreed !" said the others, " let's have a game."
So, Elsie having first set the little ones to building
block-houses, supplied Harry Carrington an older
brother of Lucy's with a book, and two younger
boys with dissected maps to arrange, the four girls
sat down in a circle on the carpet and began their
For a few moments all went on smoothly ; but soon
ELSIE DINSMORE. 309
angry and complaining words were heard coming
from the corner where the house-building was going
on. Elsie left her game to try to make peace.
" What is the matter, Flora, dear ?" she asked
soothingly of a little curly-headed girl, who was sob-
bing, and wiping her eyes with the corner of her
apron.
" Enna took my blocks," sobbed the child.
" Oh ! Enna, won't you give them back ?" said
Elsie, coaxingly ; " you know Flora is a visitor, and
we must be very polite to her."
" Xo, I won't," returned Enna, flatly ; " she's got
enouo-h now."
O
" Xo, I haven't ; I can't build a house with
those," Flora said, with another sob.
Elsie stood a moment looking much perplexed ;
then, with a brightening face, exclaimed in her cheer-
ful, pleasant way, " Well, never mind, Flora, dear,
I will get you my doll. Will not that do quite as
well?"
" Oh ! yes, I'd rather have the doll, Elsie," the
little weeper answered eagerly, smiling through her
tears.
Elsie ran out of the room, and was back again
.almost in a moment, with the doll in her arms.
"There, dear little Flora," she said, laying it
gently on the child's lap, " please be careful of it,
for I have had it a long while, and prize it very much,
because my guardian gave it to me when I was a very
little girl, and he is dead now.''
ELSIE DIN SHORE.
. .
I won't break it, Elsie, indeed I won't," replied
Flora, confidently ; and Elsie sat down to her game
again.
A few moments afterward Mr. Horace Dinsmore
passed through the room.
" Elsie," he said, as he caught sight of his little
daughter, "go up to my dressing-room."
There was evidently displeasure and reproof in his-
tone, and, entirely unconscious of wrongdoing, Elsie
looked up in surprise, asking, " Why, papa ?"
" Because / bid you," he replied ; and she silent-
ly obeyed, wondering greatly what she had done to
displease her father.
Mr. Dinsmore passed out of one door while Elsie
left by the other.
The three little girls looked inquiringly into eack
other's faces.
" What is the matter ? what has Elsie done ?"
asked Carry in a whisper.
" I don't know ; nothing, I guess," replied Lucy,,
indignantly. " I do believe he's just the Grossest
man alive ! When I was here last summer he was
all the time scolding and punishing poor Elsie for
just nothing at all."
" I think he must be very strict," said Carry ;.
" but Elsie seems to love him verv much."
J
" Strict ! I guess he is !" exclaimed Mary ;
' ' why, only think, girls, he makes her do her lessons
in the holidays !"
" I suspect she did not know her lesson, and has-
ELSIE DINSMORE. 311
to learn it over," said Carry, shaking her head wise-
ly ; and that was the conclusion they all came to.
In the meantime, Elsie sat down alone in her ban-
ishment, and tried to think what she could have
done to deserve it.
It was some time before she could form any idea
of its cause ; but at length it suddenly came to her
recollection that once, several months before this, her
father had found her sitting on the carpet, and had
bade her get up immediately and sit on a chair or
stool, saying, " Never let me see you sitting on the
floor, Elsie, when there are plenty of seats at hand.
I consider it a very unladylike and slovenly trick.'
She covered her face with her hands, and sat thus
for some moments, feeling very sorry for her forget-
fulness and disobedience ; very penitent on account
of it ; and then, kneeling down, she asked forgive-
ness of God.
A full hour she had been there alone, and the time
had seemed very long, when at last the door opened
and her father came in.
Elsie rose and came forward to meet him with the
-air of one who had offended and knew she was in
disgrace ; but putting one of her little hands in his,
he looked up pleadingly into his face, asking, in a
slightly tremulous tone, " Dear papa, are you angry
with me ?"
" I am always displeased when you disobey me,
Elsie, ' : he replied, very gravely, laying his other
hand on her head.
312 ELSIE DINSMORE.
" I am very sorry I was naughty, papa," she said r
humbly, and casting down her eyes, " but I had
quite forgotten that you had told me not to sit on the
floor, and I could not think for a good while what it
was that I had done wrong.'
11 Is that an excuse for disobedience, Elsie ?" he
asked in a tone of grave displeasure.
" No, sir ; I did not mean it so, and I am verv r
/ '
very sorry ; dear papa, please forgive me, and I will
try never to forget again."
" I think you disobeyed in another matter," he said.
" Yes, sir, I know it was very naughty to ask why,,
but I think I will remember not to do it again.
Dear papa, won't you forgive me ?"
He sat down and took her on his knee.
" Yes, daughter, I will," he said, in his usual kind,
affectionate tone ; " I am always ready to forgive my
little girl when I see that she is sorry for a fault.'
She held up her face for a kiss, which he gave.
" I wish I could always be good, papa," she said,
" but I am naughty so often."
" No," said he, " I think you have been a very
good girl for quite a long time. If you were as
naughty as Arthur and Enna, I don't know what I
should do with you ; whip you every day, I suspect,
until I made a better girl of you. Now you may go
down to your mates ; but remember, you are not to-
play jack-stones again."
It was now lunch-time, and Elsie found the chil-
dren in the nursery engaged in eating.
ELSIE DIN8MORE. 313
Flora turned to her as she entered.
" Please, Elsie, don't be cross," she said coaxing-
ly ; "I am real sorry your doll's broken, but it
wasn't my fault. Enna would try to snatch it, and
that made it fall and break its head.'
Poor Elsie ! this was quite a trial, and she could
scarcely keep back the tears as, following Flora's
.glance, she saw her valued doll lying on the window-
seat with its head broken entirely off. She said not
.a word, but, hastily crossing the room, took it up
and gazed mournfully at it.
Kind Mrs. Brown, who had just finished helping
her young charge all round, followed her to the win-
dow.
" Xever mind, dear," she said in her pleasant,
cheery tone, patting Elsie's cheek and smoothing her
liair, " I've got some excellent glue, and I think I
can stick it on again and make it almost as good as
ever. So come, sit down and eat your lunch, and
don't fret any more."
' ' Thank you, ma'am, you are very kind," Elsie said,
trying to smile, as the kind-hearted old lady led her
to the table and filled her plate with fruit and cakes.
" These cakes are very simple, not at all rich, my
dear, but quite what your papa would approve of, ' !
she said, seeing the little girl look doubtfully at them.
11 Doesn't your papa let you eat anything good,
Elsie ?" asked Mary Leslie across the table. " He
must be cross.'
" Xo, indeed, he is not, Mary, and he lets me eat
3*4 ELSIE DINSMORE.
everything that he thinks is good for me," Elsie an-
swered with some warmth.
She was seated between Caroline Howard and
Lucy Carrington.
" WhatcfoW your papa send you away for, Elsie ?"
whispered the latter.
" Please don't ask me, Lucy," replied the little girl r
blushing deeply. " Papa always has a good reason,
for what he does, and he is just the dearest, kindest,,
and best father that ever anybody had."
Elsie spoke in an eager, excited, almost angry-
manner, quite unusual with her, while the hot tears
came into her eyes, for she knew very well what was
Lucy's opinion of her father, and more than half sus-
pected that she had been making some unkind remark
about him to the others, and she was eager to remove
any unfavorable impression they might have received.
" I am sure he must love you very dearly, Elsie,"
remarked Caroline, soothingly ; " no one could help
seeing that just by the way he looks at you."
Elsie answered her with a pleased and grateful
look ; and then changed the subject by proposing
that they should all take a walk as soon as they had
finished eating, as the day was fine, and there would
be plenty of time before dinner.
The motion was carried without a dissenting
voice, and in a few moments they all set out, a very
merry party, full of fun and frolic. They had a very
pleasant time, and returned barely in season to be
dressed for dinner.
ELSIE DINSMORE. 315
They dined by themselves in the nursery, but were
afterward taken down to the drawing-room. Here
Elsie found herself immediately seized upon by a
young lady, dressed in very gay and fashionable
style, whom she did not remember ever to have
*/
seen before, but who insisted on seating the little
girl on the sofa by her side, and keeping her there a
long while, loading her with caresses and flattery.
" My dear child," she said, " what lovely hair you
have ! so fine, and soft, and glossy ; such a beau-
tiful color, too, and curls so splendidly ! Natural
ringlets, I'm sure, are they not ?"
"Yes, ma'am," Elsie answered, simply, wishing
from the bottom of her heart that the lady would re-
lease her, and talk to some one else.
But the lady had no such intention.
" You are a very sweet little girl, 1 am sure, and I
shall love you dearly," she said, kissing her several
times. " Ah ! I would give anything if I had such
a clear fair complexion and such rosy cheeks. That
makes you blush. Well, I like to see it ; blushes are
very becoming. Oh ! you needn't pretend you don't
know you're handsome ; you're a^perfect little beauty.
Do tell me, where did you get such splendid eyes ?
But I needn't ask, for I have only to look at your
father to see where they came from. Mr. Dinsmore"
to Elsie's papa, who just then came toward them
" you ought to be very proud of this child ; she is
the very image of yourself, and a perfect little beauty,
too."
316 ELSIE DINSMORE.
" Miss Stevens is pleased to flatter me," lie said,,
bowing low ; " but flattery is not good for either
grown-up children or younger ones, and I must beg
leave to decline the compliment, as I cannot see that
Elsie bears the slightest resemblance to me or any
of my family. She is very like her mother, though,"
he added, with a half sigh and a tender, loving glance
at his little girl, " and that is just what I would
have her. But I am forgetting my errand, Miss
Stevens ; I came to ask if you will ride this after-
noon, as we are getting up a small party.'
"Yes, thank you, I should like it dearly, it is
such a lovely day. But how soon do you start ?"
" As soon as the ladies can be ready. The horses
will be at the door in a very few moments."
" Ah ! then I must go and prepare," she said, ris-
ing and sailing out of the room.
Mr. Dinsmore took the seat she had vacated, and,
passing his arm round his little girl, said to her in
an undertone, " My little daughter must not be so
foolish as to believe that people mean all they say to
her ; for some persons talk in a very thoughtless way,
and, without perhaps intending to be exactly untruth-
ful, say a great deal that they really do not mean.
And I should be sorry, indeed, to see my little girl
so spoiled by all this silly flattery as to grow up con-
ceited and vain."
She looked at him with her own sweet, innocent
smile, free from the slightest touch of vanity.
" No, papa," she said, " I do not mind, when
ELSIE DINSMORE. 317
people say such things, because I know the Bible
says, ' Favor is deceitful, and beauty is vain ; ' and
in another place, ' He that flattereth his neighbor
spreadeth a net for his feet. ' So I will try to keep
away from that lady ; shall I not, papa ?"
" Whenever you can do so without rudeness,
daughter ;" and he moved away, thinking to him-
self, " How strangely the teachings of that book
seein to preserve my child from every evil influ-
ence.'
A sigh escaped him. There was lurking within
his breast a vao-ue consciousness that her father need-
O
ed such a safeguard, but had it not.
Lucy, who was standing at the window, turned
quickly round.
11 Come, girls," she said, " let us run out and see
them off ; they're bringing up the horses. And see,
there's Miss Adelaide in her riding-dress and cap ;
how pretty she looks ! And there's that Miss Ste-
vens coming out now ; hateful thing ! I can't bear
her ! Come, Elsie and Carry !"
And she ran out, Caroline and Elsie following.
Elsie, however, went no further than the hall, where
she stood still at the foot of the stairs.
" Come, Elsie," called the other two from the
portico, " come out here."
" No,'* replied the little girl, '" I cannot come with-
out something round me. Papa says it is too cold
for me to be out in the wind to-day with my neck
and arms bare."
3*8 ELSIE DINSMORE.
" Pooh ! nonsense !" said Lucy, " 'tain't a bit
cold ; do come now.'
" No, Lucy, I must obey my father," Elsie an-
swered in a very pleasant but no less decided tone.
Some one caught her round the waist and lifted
her up.
" Oh ! papa," she exclaimed, " I did not know you
were there ! I wish I was going too ; I don't like
to have you go without me.'
11 I wish you were, my pet ; I always love to have
you with me : but you know it wouldn't do ; you
have your little guests to entertain. Good-by, dar-
ling. Don't go out in the cold.'
He kissed her, as he always did now, when leav-
ing her even for an hour or two, and set her down.
The little girls watched until the last of the party
had disappeared down the avenue, and then ran
gayly up-stairs to Elsie's room, where they busied
themselves until tea-time in various little preparations
for the evening, such as dressing dolls, and tying up
bundles of confectionery, etc., to be hung upon the
Christmas-tree.
The children had all noticed that the doors of a
parlor opening into the drawing. room had been closed
since morning to all but a favored few, who passed In
and out, with an air of mystery and importance,
and generally laden with some odd-looking bundle
when going in, which they invariably left behind on
coming: out again, and many a whispered consulta-
tion had been held as to what was probably going
ELSIE DINSMORE. 319
on in there. Elsie and Carry seemed to be in the
secret, but only smiled and shook their heads wisely
when questioned.
But at length tea being over, and all, both old and
young, assembled as if by common consent in the
drawing-room, it began to be whispered about that
their curiosity was now on the point of being gratified.
All were immediately on the qui vive, and every
face brightened with mirth and expectation ; and
when, a moment after, the doors were thrown open,
there was a universal burst of applause.
A large Christmas-tree had been set up at the
further end of the room, and, with its myriad of
lighted tapers, and its load of toys and bonbons,
interspersed with many a richer and more costly gift,
made quite a display.
" Beautiful ! beautiful !" cried the children, clap-
ping their hands and dancing about with delight ;
while their elders, perhaps equally pleased, expressed
their admiration after a more staid and sober fashion.
When they thought their handiwork had been suf-
ficiently admired, Mrs. Dinsmore and Adelaide ap-
proached the tree and began the pleasant task of dis-
tributing the gifts.
Everything was labelled, and each, as his or her
name was called out, stepped forward to receive the
present.
No one had been forgotten ; each had something,
and almost every one had several pretty presents.
Mary Leslie and little Flora Arnott were made per-
320 ELSIE DINSMORE.
fectly happy with wax dolls that could open and shut
their eyes ; Caroline Howard received a gold chain
from her mamma, and a pretty pin from Elsie ; Lucy,
a set of coral ornaments, besides several smaller
presents ; and others were equally fortunate. All was
mirth and hilarity ; only one clouded face to be seen,
and that belonged to Enna, who was pouting in a corner
because Mary Leslie's doll was a little larger than hers.
Elsie had already received a pretty bracelet from
her Aunt Adelaide, a needle-case from Lora, and sev-
eral little gifts from her young guests, and was just
beginning to wonder what had become of her papa's
promised present, when she heard her name again r
and Adelaide, turning to her with a pleased look,,
slipped a most beautiful diamond ring on her finger.
" From your papa," she said. " Go and thank
him ; it is well worth it. v
Elsie sought him out where he stood alone in a
corner, an amused spectator of the merry scene.
" See, papa," she said, holding up her hand. " I
think it very beautiful ; thank you, dear papa, thank
you very much."
"Does it please you, my darling?" he asked,
stooping to press a kiss on the little upturned face,
so bright and happy.
" Yes, papa, I think it is lovely ! the very pretti-
est rino; I ever saw."
O
' ' Yet I think there is something else you would
have liked better ; is there not ?" he asked, looking
searchmgly into her face.
ELSIE DINSMORE. 321
" Dear papa, I like it very much ; I would rather
have it than anything else on the tree. '
" Still you have not answered my question," he
said, with a smile, as he sat down and drew her to
his side, adding in a playful tone, " Come, I am not
oing to put up with any evasion ; tell me truly if
you would have preferred something else, and if so,
what it is.'
Elsie blushed and looked down ; then raising her
eyes, and seeing with what a tender, loving glance he
was regarding her, she took courage to say, " Yes,
papa, there is one thing I would have liked better,
and that is your miniature.'
To her surprise he looked highly pleased at her
reply, and giving her another kiss, said, " Well, dar-
ling, some day you shall have it. ''
" Mr. Horace Dinsmore," called Adelaide, taking
some small, glittering object from the tree.
" Another present for me ?" he asked, as Walter
came running with it.
He had already received several, from his father
and sisters, but none had seemed to give him half
the pleasure that this did when he saw that it was
labelled, " From his little daughter.'
It was only a gold pencil. The miniature with
which the artist had succeeded so well that nothing
could have been prettier except the original herself
she had reserved to be given in another way.
" Do you like it, papa ?" she asked, her face
glowing with delight to see how pleased he was.
322 ELSIE DINSMORE.
Yes, darling, very much ; and I shall always
think of my little girl when I use it."
li Keep it in your pocket, and use it every day,,
won't you, papa ?"
" Yes, my pet, I will ; but I thought you said you
had no present for me ?"
" Oh ! no, no, papa ; I said there was none for
you amongst those bundles. I had bought this, but
had given it to Aunt Adelaide to take care of, for
fear you might happen to see it. '
11 Ah ! that was it, eh ?" and he laughed and
stroked her hair.
" Here, Elsie, here is your bundle of candy," said
AValter, running up to them again. " Everybody has
one, and that is yours, Adelaide says."
He put it in her hand, and ran away again. Elsie
looked up in her father's face inquiringly.
" No, darling," he said, taking the paper from
her hand and examining its contents, " not to-nio-ht ;
O O /
to-morrow, after breakfast, you may eat the cream-
candy and the rock, but none of the others ; they are
colored, and very unwholesome. '
" Won't you eat some, papa ?' ! she asked with
winning sweetness.
" No, dearest,' 11 he said ; " for though I, too, am
fond of sweet things, I will not eat them while I re-
fuse them to yoi>. ' !
u Do, papa," she urged, " it would give me pleas-
ure to see you enjoying it."
" No, darling, /will wait until to-morrow, too."
ELSIE DIN 8 MO RE. 323
" Then please keep it for me until to-morrow,
papa, will you ?"
' ' Yes, ' ' lie said, putting it in his pocket ; and
then, as the gifts had all been distributed, and the lit-
tle folks were in high glee, a variety of sports were
commenced by them, in which some of their elders
also took a part ; and thus the hours sped away so
rapidly that Elsie was very much surprised when her
father called her to go to bed.
" Is it half-past nine already, papa ?" she asked.
" It is ten, my dear child, and high time you were
in bed,'' he said, smiling at her look of astonish-
ment. " I hope you have enjoyed yourself.'
" Oh ! so much, papa. Good-night, and thank
you for letting me stay up so long. '
CJrapter Jfiftmttjj,
*' Ask me not why I should love her ;
Look upon those soulful eyes !
Look while mirth or feeling move her,
And see there how sweetly rise
Thoughts gay and gentle from a breast
Which is of innocence the nest
Which, though each joy were from it shred,
By truth would still be tenanted !"
HOFFMAN'S POEMS.
IT was yet dark when Elsie awoke, but, hearing the
clock strike five, she knew it was morning. She lay
still a little while, and then, slipping softly out of bed,
put her feet into her slippers, threw her warm dress-
ing-gown around her, and feeling for a little package
she had left on her toilet-table, she secured it and
stole noiselessly from the room.
All was darkness and silence in the house, but she
had no thought of fear ; and, gliding gently down the
hall to her papa's door, she turned the handle very
cautiously, when, to her great delight, she found it
had been left unfastened, and yielded readily to her
touch.
She entered as quietly as a little mouse, listened a
moment until satisfied from his breathing that her
father was still sound asleep, then, stepping softly
across the room, she laid her package down where he
ELSIE D INSHORE. 325
could not fail to see it as soon as daylight came and
his eyes were opened. This accomplished, she stole
back again as noiselessly as she had come.
" Who dat ?" demanded Chloe, starting up in bed
as Elsie reentered her own apartment.
"It is only I ; did I frighten you, mammy ?"
answered the little girl with a merry laugh.
" Ki ? chile, dat you ? what you doin' runnin'
'bout de house all in de dark, cold night ?"
" It isn't night, mammy ; I heard it strike five
some time ago."
" Well, den, dis chile gwine get right up an' make
de fire. But jes you creep back into de bed, darling
7 fore you cotch your death ob cold."
" I will, mammy," Elsie said, doing as she was
desired ; u but please dress me as soon as the room
is warm enough, won't you ?"
" Yes, darlin', kase ob course I knows you want to
be up early o' Christmas mornin\ Ki ! Miss Elsie,
dat's a beautiful shawl you gave your ole mammy. I
sha'n't feel de cold at all dis winter. r
" I hope not, mammy ; and were Aunt Phillis,
and Uncle Jack, and all the rest pleased with their
presents ?"
" I reckon dey was, darlin', mos' ready to go off
de handle, "tirely."
Chloe had soon built up her fire and coaxed it into
a bright blaze, and in a few moments more she pro-
nounced the room sufficiently warm for her nursling
to get up and be dressed.
326 ELSIE DINSMORE.
Elsie was impatient to go to her father ; but, even
after she had been carefully dressed and all her
morning duties attended to, it was still so early that
Chloe advised her to wait a little longer, assuring her
that it was only a very short time since John had
gone in to make his master's fire and supply him with
hot water for shaving.
So the little girl sat down and tried to drown her
impatience in the pages of a new book one of her
Christmas presents. But Chloe presently stole softly
behind her chair, and, holding up high above her
head some glittering object attached to a pretty gold
chain, let it gradually descend until it rested upon the
open book.
Elsie started and jumped up with an exclamation
of surprise.
" Wonder if you knows dat gen'leman, darlin' ?"
laughed Chloe.
" Oh ! it is papa," cried the little girl, catching it
in her hand, " my own dear, darling papa ! oh ! how
good of him to give it to me !" and she danced about
the room in her delight. "It is just himself, so
exactly like him ! Isn't it a good likeness, mam-
my ?" she asked, drawing near the light to examine it
more closely. " Dear, dear, darling papa !" and
she kissed it again and again.
Then gently drawing her mother's miniature from
her bosom, she laid them side by side.
" My papa and mamma ; are they not beautiful,
mammy ? both of them ?" she asked, raising her
ELSIE D1NSMORE. 327
swimming eyes to the dusky face leaning over her,
and gazing with such mournful fondness at the sweet
girlish countenance, so life-like and beautiful, yet
calling up thoughts of sorrow and bereavement.
11 My darling young missus !" murmured the old
nurse, " my own precious chile dat dese arms hab
carried so many years, dis ole heart like to break
wheneber I tinks ob you, an' 'members how your
bright young face done gone away foreber. "
The big tears were rolling fast down the sable
cheeks, and dropping like rain on Elsie's curls, while
the broad bosom heaved with sobs. " But your ole
mammy's been good to your little chile dat you lef
behind, darlin', 'deed she has," she went on.
" Yes, mammy, 'indeed, indeed you have,'" Elsie
said, twining her arms lovingly around her. " But
don't let us cry any more, for we know that dear
mamma is very happy in heaven, and does not wish
us to grieve for her now. I shall not show you the
picture any more if it makes you cry like that," she
added half playfully.
" Not always, chile," Chloe said, wiping away her
tears, " but jes dis here mornin' Christmas mornin',
when she was always so bright and merry. It seems
only yesterday she went dancin' about jes like you."
*' Yes, mammy dear, but she is with the angels
now my sweet, pretty mamma !" Elsie whispered
softly, with another tender, loving look at the picture
ere she returned it to its accustomed resting-place iii
her bosom.
328 ELSIE DINSMORE.
" And now I must go to papa," she said more
cheerfully, " for it is almost breakfast time. "
" Is my darling satisfied now?" he asked, as she
ran into his arms and was folded in a close embrace.
Yes, papa, indeed I am ; thank you a thousand
times ; it is all I wanted."
* And you have given me the most acceptable
present you could have found. It is a most excellent
likeness, and I am delighted with it."
"I am so glad, papa, but it was Aunt Adelaide
who thought of it."
11 Ah ! that was very kind of her. But how does
my little girl feel this morning, after all her dissi-
pation ?"
' Oh ! very well, thank you, papa.'
11 You will not want to say any lesson to-day, I
suppose ?"
' Oh ! yes, if you please, papa, and it does not
give you too much trouble," she said. "It is the
very pleasantest hour in the day, except "
Well, except what ? Ah, yes, I understand.
Well, my pet, it shall be as you wish ; but come to
me directly after breakfast, as I am going out early."
Elsie had had her hour with her father, but, though
lie had left her and gone out, she still lingered in his
dressing-room, looking over the next day's lesson.
At length, however, she closed the book and left the
room, intending to seek her young guests, who were
in the lower part of the house.
Miss Stevens' door was open as she passed, and
ELSIE DINSMORE. 329
that lady called to her, " Elsie, dear, you sweet little
creature, come here, and see what I have for you."
/
Elsie obeyed, though rather reluctantly, and Miss-
Stevens, bidding her sit down, went to a drawer, and
took out a large paper of mixed candy, all of the best
and most expensive kinds, which she put into the
little girl's hands with one of her sweetest smiles.
It was a strong temptation to a child who had a
great fondness for such things, but Elsie had prayed
from her heart that morning for strength to resist
temptation, and it was given her.
" Thank you, ma'am, you are very kind," she said
gratefully, " but I cannot take it, because papa does
not approve of my eating such things. He gave me
a little this morning, but said I must not have any
more for a long time.'
" Now, that is quite too bad,' exclaimed Miss.
Stevens, " but at least take one or two, child ; that
much couldn't possibly hurt you, and your papa need
never know.'
Elsie gave her a look of grieved surprise.
"Oh ! could you think I would do that?" she
said. u But God would know, Miss Stevens ; and I
should know it myself, and how could I ever look my
papa in the face again after deceiving him so ?"
' ' Really, my dear, you are making a very serious
matter of a mere trifle," laughed the lady ; " why, I
have deceived my father more than fifty times, and
never thought it any harm. But here is something
I am sure you can take, and indeed you must,
33 ELSIE DINSMORE.
for I bought both it and the candy expressly for
you."
She replaced the candy in the drawer as she spoke,
and took from another a splendidly-bound book which
she laid in Elsie's lap, saying, with a triumphant air,
" There, my dear, what do you think of that ? is it
not handsome ?' '
Elsie's eyes sparkled ; books were her greatest
treasures ; but feeling an instinctive repugnance to
taking a gift from one whom she could neither re-
spect nor love, she made an effort to decline it,
though at the same time thanking the lady warmly
for her kind intentions.
But Miss Stevens would hear of no refusal, and
fairly forced it upon her acceptance, declaring that,
as she had bought it expressly for her, she should
feel extremely hurt if she did not take it.
11 Then I will, Miss Stevens,' 1 said the little girl,
" and I am sure you are very kind. I love books and
pictures, too,and these are lovely engravings," she add-
ed, turning over the leaves with undisguised pleasure.
" Yes, and the stories are right pretty, too," re-
marked Miss Stevens.
" Yes, ma'am, they look as if they were, and I
should like dearly to read them."
11 "Well, dear, just sit down and read ; there's
nothing to hinder. I'm sure your little friends can
do without you for an hour or two. Or, if you pre-
fer it, take the book and enjoy it with them : it is
your own, you know, to use as you like."
ELSIE DIN SHORE. 331
" Tliank you, ma'am ; but, though I can look at
the pictures, I must not read the stories until I have
asked papa, because he does not allow me to read
anything now without first showing it to him. "
11 Dear me ! how very strict he is !" exclaimed
Miss Stevens.
" I wonder," she thought to herself, " if he would
expect to domineer over his wife in that style ?"
Elsie was slowly turning over the leaves of the
book, enjoying the pictures very much, studying
them intently, but resolutely refraining from even
glancing over the printed pages. But at length she
closed it, and, looking out of the window, said, with
a slight sigh, " Oh ! I wish papa would come : but
I'm afraid he won't for a long while, and I do so
want to read these stories. 7 '
" Suppose you let me read one to you," suggested
Miss Stevens ; " that would not be your reading it,
you know.'
V
Elsie looked shocked at the proposal. u Oh ! no,
ma'am, thank you, I know you mean to be kind ;
* *
but I could not do it ; it would be so very wrong ;
quite the same, I am sure, as if I read it with my
own eyes," she answered hurriedly ; and then, fear-
ing to be tempted further, she excused herself and
went in search of her young companions.
She found them in the drawing-room.
" AVasn't it too provoking, Elsie, that those people
didn't send home my bracelet last night f exclaim-
j
ed Caroline Howard. " I have just been telling
33 2 ELSIE D1NSMORE.
Lucy about it. I think that it was such a shame for
them to disappoint me, for I wanted to have it on
the tree. '
" I am sorry you were disappointed, Carry, but
perhaps it will come to-day,' Elsie answered in a
sympathizing tone. And then she showed the new
book, which she still held in her hand.
They spent some time in examining it, talking-
about and admiring the pictures, and then went out
for a walk.
" Has papa come in yet, mammy ?" was Elsie's
first question on returning.
" Yes, darlin', I tink he's in the drawing-room dis
berry minute, ' ' Chloe answered, as she took off the
little girl's hat, and carefully smoothed her hair.
" There, there ! mammy, won't that do now ? I'm
in a little bit of a hurry," Elsie said with a merry
little laugh, as she slipped playfully from under her
nurse's hand, and ran down-stairs.
But she was doomed to disappointment for the
present, for her papa was seated on the sofa, beside
Miss Stevens, talking to her ; and so she must wait a
little longer. At last, however, he rose, went to the
other side of the room, and stood a moment looking
out of the window.
Then Elsie hastened to take her book from a table,
where she had laid it, and going up to him, said,
"Papa !"
He turned round instantly, asking in a pleasant
tone, " Well, daughter, what is it ?"
ELSIE DIN8MORE. 333
She put the book into his hand, saying eagerly,
"It is a Christmas gift from Miss Stevens, papa ;
will YOU let me read it ?"
*
He did not answer immediately, but turned over
the leaves, glancing rapidly over page after page,
but not too rapidly to be able to form a pretty cor-
rect idea of the contents.
" Xo, daughter,' 1 ' he said, handing it back to her,
" you must content yourself with looking at the pic-
tures ; they are by far the best part ; the stories are
very unsuitable for a little girl of your age, and
would, indeed, be unprofitable reading for any
one. 1
She looked a little disappointed.
" I am glad I can trust my little daughter, and
feel certain that she will not disobey me," he said,
smiling kindly on her, and patting her cheek.
She answered him with a bright, happy look, full
of confiding affection, laid the book away without a
murmur, and left the room her father's eyes follow-
ing her with a fond, loving glance.
Miss Stevens, who had watched them both closely
during this little scene, bit her lips with vexation at
the result of her manoeuvre.
She had come to Roselands with the fixed deter-
mination to lav siep-e to Mr. Horace Dinsmore's
*/ O
heart, and flattering and petting his little daughter
was one of her modes of attack ; but his decided
disapproval of her present, she perceived, did not
augur well for the success of her schemes. She was
334 ELSIE DIN SHORE.
by no means in despair, however, for she had great
confidence in the power of her own personal attrac-
tions, being really tolerably pretty, and considering
herself a great beauty, as well as very highly accom-
plished.
As Elsie ran out into the hall, she found herself
suddenly caught in Mr. Travilla's arms.
" * A merry Christmas and a happy New Year ! f
little Elsie," he said, kissing her on both cheeks.
" Now I have caught you figuratively and literally,
my little lady, so what are you going to give me,
eh?"
" Indeed, sir, I think you've helped yourself to
the only thing I have to give at present," she an-
swered with a merry silvery laugh.
" Nay, give me one, little lady," said he, " one
such hug and kiss as I dare say your father gets
half-a-dozen times in a day. '
t/
She gave it very heartily.
' ' Ah ! I wish you were ten years older, ' ' he said
as he set her down.
" If I had been, you wouldn't have got the kiss,"
she replied, smiling archly.
" Now, it's my turn," he said, taking something
from his pocket.
" I expected you'd catch me, and so thought it
best to come prepared. '
He took her hand, as he spoke, and placed a beau-
tiful little gold thimble on her finger. " There,
that's to encourage you in industry."
ELSIE DIN8MORE. 335
" Thank you, sir ; oh ! it's a little beauty ! I must
run and show it to papa. But I must not forget my
politeness," she added, hastily throwing open the
drawing-room door. " Come in, Mr. Travilla.'
She waited quietly until the usual greetings were
exchanged, then went up to her father and showed
her new gift.
He quite entered into her pleasure, and remarked,
with a glance at Miss Stevens, " that her friends
were very kind.'
The lady's hopes rose. He was then pleased with
her attention to his child, even though he did not
altogether approve her choice of a gift.
There was a large party to dinner that day, and
the children came down to the dessert. Miss Stevens,
who had contrived to be seated next to Mr. Dinsmore,
made an effort, on the entrance of the juveniles, to
have Elsie placed on her other side ; but Mr. Travilla
was too quick for her, and had his young favorite on
his knee before she could gain her attention.
The lady was disappointed, and Elsie herself only
half satisfied ; but the two gentlemen, who thoroughly
understood Miss Stevens and saw through all her
manoeuvres, exchanged glances of amusement and
satisfaction.
After dinner Mr. Travilla invited Elsie, Carry,
Lucy, and Mary, to take a ride in his carriage, which
invitation was joyfully accepted by all Mr. Dins-
more giving a ready consent to Elsie's request to be
permitted to go.
33 6 ELSIE DIN SHORE.
They had a very merry time, for Mr. Travilla quite
laid himself out for their entertainment, and no one
knew better than he how to amuse ladies of their asre.
o
It was nearly dark when they returned, and Elsie
went at once to her room to be dressed for the even-
ing. But she found it unoccupied Aunt Chloe, as it
afterward appeared, having gone down to the quarter
to carry some of the little girl's gifts to one or two
who were too old and feeble to come up to the house
to receive them.
Elsie rang the bell, waited a little, and then, feel-
ing impatient to be dressed, ran down to the kitchen
to see what had become of her nurse.
A very animated discussion was going on there,
just at that moment, between the cook and two or
three of her sable companions, and the first words
that reached the child's ears, as she stood on the
threshold, were, " I tell you, you ole darkie, you
dunno nuffin' 'bout it ! Massa Horace gwihe marry
dat bit ob paint an' finery ! no such ting ! Massa's
got more sense.'
The words were spoken in a most scornful tone,
and Elsie, into whose childish mind the possibility
of her father's marrying again had never entered,
stood spellbound with astonishment.
But the conversation went on, the speakers quite
unconscious of her vicinity.
It was Pompey's voice that replied.
" Ef Marse Horace don't like her, what for they
been gwine ridin' ebery afternoon ? will you tell me
ELSIE D INSHORE. 337
dat, darkies ? an ? don't disniggah see him sit beside
her mornin', noon, an' night, laughin' an' talkin' at
de table an' in de parlor ? an' don't she keep a kiss-
in' little Miss Elsie, an' callin' her pretty critter,
sweet critter, an' de like ?"
" She ma to our sweet little Miss Elsie ! Bah ! I
tell you, Pomp, Marse Horace got more sense," re-
turned the cook, indignantly.
" Aunt Chloe don't b'lieve no such stuff,''' put in
another voice ; " she says Marse Horace couldn't
put such trash in her sweet young mistis's place."
" AuntChloe'sa berry fine woman, no doubt," ob-
served Pomp disdainfully, " but I reckon Marse
Horace ain't gwine to infide his matermonical inten-
tions to her ; and I consider it quite consequential
on Marster's being young and handsome that he will
take another wife.'
The next speaker said something about his having
lived a good while without, and though Miss Ste-
vens was setting her cap, maybe he wouldn't be
caught. But Elsie only gathered the sense of it,
hardly heard the words, and, bounding away like a
frightened deer to her own room, her little heart
beating wildly with a confused sense of suffering, she
threw herself on the bed. She shed no tears, but
there was, oh ! such a weight on her heart, such a
terrible though vajjue sense of the instability of all
O O *
earthly happiness.
There Chloe found her, and wondered much what
ailed her darling, what made her so silent, and yet
33 s ELSIE DIN SHORE.
so restless, and caused such a deep flush on her
cheek. She feared she was feverish, her little hand
was so hot and dry ; but Elsie insisted that she
was quite well, and so Chloe tried to think it was
only fatigue.
She would fain have persuaded the little girl to lie
still upon her bed and rest, and let her tea be brought
to her there ; but Elsie answered that she would
much rather be dressed, and join her young com-
panions in the nursery. They, too, wondered what
ailed her, she was so very quiet and ate almost noth-
ing at all. They asked if she was sick. She only
shook her head. " Was she tired, then ?" " Yes,
she believed she was, ' : and she leaned her head
wearily on her hand.
But, indeed, most of the party seemed dull ; they
had gone through such a round of pleasure and ex-
citement, for the last two or three days, that now a
reaction was beginning, and they wanted rest, es-
pecially the very little ones, who all retired quite
early, when Elsie and her mates joined their parents
in the drawing-room.
Elsie looked eagerly around for her father, the
moment she entered the room. He was beside Miss
Stevens, who was at the piano, performing a very
difficult piece of music. He was leaning over her,
turning the leaves, and apparently listening with a
great deal of pleasure, for she was really a fine musi-
cian.
Elsie felt sick at heart at the sight although a few
ELSIE DINSMOEE. 339
hours before it would have given her no concern
and found it very difficult to listen to and answer
the remarks Mrs. Carrington was making to her
about her Christinas presents, and the nice ride they
had had that afternoon.
Mr. Travilla was watching her ; he had noticed, as
soon as she came in, the sad and troubled look which
had come over her face, and, following the glance of
her eyes, he guessed at the cause.
He knew there was no danger of the trial that
she feared, and w r ould have been glad to tell her so ;
but he felt that it was too delicate a subject for him
to venture on ; it might seem too much like med-
dling in Mr. Dinsmore's affairs. But he did the
next best thing got the four little girls into a cor-
ner, and tried to entertain them with stories and
charades.
Elsie seemed interested for a time, but every now
and then her eyes would wander to the other side
of the room, .where her father still stood listening to
Miss Stevens' music.
At length Mr. Travilla was called away to give his
opinion about some tableaux the young ladies were
arranging ; and Elsie, knowing it was her usual time
O O ' O
for retiring, and not caring to avail herself of her
father's permission to stay up until nine o'clock,
stole quietly away to her room unobserved by any
one, and feeling as if Miss Stevens had already
robbed her of her father.
She wiped away a few quiet tears, as she went,
340 ELSIE DINSMORE.
and was very silent and sad, while her mammy was
preparing her for bed. She hardly knew how to do
without her good-night kiss, but feeling as she did,
it had seemed quite impossible to ask for it while
Miss. Stevens was so near him.
When she knelt down to pray, she became pain-
fully conscious that a feeling of positive dislike to
that lady had been creeping into her heart, and she
asked earnestly to be enabled to put it away. But she
prayed, also, that she might be spared the trial that
she feared, if God's will were so ; and she thought
surely it was because she had found out that Miss
Stevens was not good, not truthful, or sincere.
" Perhaps dear papa will come to say good-night
before I am asleep," she murmured to herself as,
calmed and soothed by thus casting her burden on
the Lord, she laid her head upon her pillow.
He, however, had become interested in the subject
of the tableaux, and did not miss his little girl until
the sound of the clock striking ten reminded him of
her, and he looked around expecting to see her still
in the room ; but, not seeing her, he asked Lucy
Carrington where she was.
11 Oh !" said Lucy, " she's been gone these two
hours, I should think ! I guess she must have gone
to bed."
" Strange that she did not come to bid me good-
night, *' he exclaimed in a low tone, more as if think-
O ' *
ing aloud than speaking to Lucy.
He hastily left the room.
ELSIE DINSMORE. 341
Mr. Travilla followed.
" Dinsmore, " said he.
Mr. Dinsmor* stopped, and Travilla, drawing him
to one side, said in an undertone, " I think my lit-
tle friend is in trouble to-nio;ht."
O
" Ah !" he exclaimed, with a startled look, " what
can it be ? I did not hear of any accident she has
not been hurt ? is not sick ? tell me, Travilla, quick-
ly, if anything ails my child."
" Xothing, nothing, Dinsmore, only you know ser-
vants will talk, and children have ears, and eyes, too,
sometimes, and I saw her watching you to-night with
a very sad expression.'
11 Xonsense !" exclaimed Mr. Dinsmore, growing
very red and looking extremely vexed ; '* I wouldn't
have had such thoughts put into the child's
head for any money. Are you sure of it, Tra-
villa ?"
" I am sure she was watching you very closely
to-night, and looking very miserable."
" Poor darling !" murmured the father. " Thank
you, Travilla," shaking his friend heartily by the
hand. " Good-night ; I shall not be down again if
you will be so good as to excuse me to the others. ' :
And he went up the stairs almost at a bound, and
the next moment was standing beside his sleeping
child, looking anxiously down at the little flushed
cheeks and tear swollen eyes, for, disappointed that
he did not come to bid her good-night, she had cried
herself to sleep.
342 ELSIE DINSMORE.
. i
Poor darling !" lie murmured again, as he
stooped over her and kissed away a tear that still
trembled on her eyelash.
He longed to tell her that all her fears were
groundless, and that none other could ever fill her
place in his heart, but he did not like to wake
her, and so, pressing another light kiss on her
cheek, he left her to dream on unconscious of his
visit.
