 Section 6 of Holidays at Roselands. Remember the Sabbath Day to keep it holy, Exodus 10-6. We ought to obey God rather than men, Acts 5-29. Dear Papa, are you sick? It was Elsie's sweet voice that asked the question in a tone of alarm. She had just finished her morning lessons and coming into her father's room she had found him lying on the sofa looking flushed and feverish. Yes, daughter, he said, I have a severe headache and some fever, I think. But don't be alarmed, my pet is nothing at all serious, he added in a more cheerful tone, taking both her little hands in his and gazing fondly into the beautiful dark eyes now filled with tears. You will let me be your little nurse, my own dear Papa, will you not? She asked coaxingly, May I bring some cool water and bathe your head? Yes, darling, you may, he said, releasing her hands. Elsie stole softly out of the room but was back again almost in a moment, followed by Chloe bearing a pitcher of ice water. Now, Mammy, please bring a basin and napkin for the dressing room, she said, in a low tone, as the old nurse set down her burden, and then you may darken the room a little. And shall I not tell her to send Jim or Jack for the doctor, Papa? It is hardly necessary, darling, he replied with a faint smile. Oh, please, Papa, my own dear darling Papa, do let me, she entreated you, know it cannot do any harm, and may do a great deal of good. Ah, well, child, do as you like. He replied with a weary sigh, but the doctor will no doubt think me very foolish to be so easily frightened. Then Papa, I will tell him it was I, not you, who were frightened, and that you sent for him to please your silly little daughter, Elsie said, fondly laying her cheek to his while he passed his arm around her and pressed her to his side. Here are the tings, darling, said Chloe, setting down the basin and filling it from the pitcher. That is right, you good old mammy, now close the blinds, and then you may go and tell Jim to saddle a horse, and right after the doctor immediately. Chloe left the room, and Elsie brought another pillow for her father, smoothed his hair, fed to his forehead, and then, drawing a low chair to the side of the sofa, sat down and fanned him gently and regularly. Why, said he, in a gratified tone, you are as nice a little nurse as anybody need ask for. You move about so gently, and seem to know just the right thing to do. How did you learn? I have had bad headaches so often myself, Papa, that I have found out what one wants at such times, replied the little girl, coloring with pleasure. He closed his eyes and seemed to be sleeping, and Elsie almost held her breath lest she should disturb him. But presently the dinner bell rang, and opening them again he said, Go down, my daughter, and get your dinner. I am not hungry, Papa, she replied. Please let me stay and wait on you, won't you have something to eat? No, my dear, I have no desire for food, and you see Chloe is coming to take care of me, so I wish you to go down at once, he said in his decided tone, and Elsie instantly rose to obey. You may come back if you choose when you have eaten your dinner, he added kindly. I love to have you here. Thank you, Papa, I will, she answered with a brightened continence as she left the room. She was soon in her place again by his side, he was sleeping and taking the fan from Chloe's hand without speaking. She motioned her away, and resuming her seat sat for an hour or more, fanning him in perfect silence. The physician had come while the family were at dinner, and leaving some medicine had gone again, saying he was in haste to visit another patient, and assuring Elsie, whom he met in the hall as he was going out, that he did not think her Papa was going to be very ill. This assurance had comforted her very much, and she felt quite happy while sitting there watching her father's slumbers. At length he opened his eyes, and smiling fondly on her asked, Does not my little girl want some play this afternoon? Your little hand must be surely very tired of wielding that fan, and taking it from her, he drew her head down to his breast, and stroked her hair caressingly. No, my own Papa, I would much rather stay with you if you will let me, she answered equally. I am afraid I ought to be very determined, and send you out to take some exercise, he replied, playfully running his fingers through her curls. But it is too pleasant to have you here, so you may stay if you like. Oh, thank you, dear Papa, and will you let me wait on you? What can I do for you now? You may bring that book that lies on the table there, and read to me. You need not learn any lessons for tomorrow, for I intend to keep you with me. The next day and the next, and for many succeeding ones, Mr. Dinsmore was quite too ill to leave his bed, and during all this time Elsie was his constant companion by day, except for an hour every afternoon when he compelled her to go out and take some exercise in the open air, and she would have sat by his side all night also, but he would by no means permit it. No, Elsie, he replied to her repeated entreaties, you must go to bed every night at your usual hour, and stay there until your accustomed hour for rising. I will not have you deprived of your rest unless I am actually dying. This was said in the determined tone that always silenced Elsie at once, and she submitted to his decision without another word, feeling very thankful that he kept her so constantly at his side through the day. She proved herself the best and most attentive of nurses. Seeming to understand his wishes intuitively, and moving about so gently and quietly, never hurried, never impatient, never weary of attending to his wants. His eyes followed with fond delight her little figure as it flitted noiselessly about the room, now here, now there, arranging everything for his comfort, and often as she returned to her station at his side he would draw her down to him, and stroke her hair, or pat her cheek, or kiss the rosy lips, calling her by every fond endearing name, rosebud, his pet, his bird, his darling. It was she who bathed his head with her cool, soft hands, in his paroxysms of fever, smoothed his hair, shook up his pillows, and gave his medicines, fanned him, and read her sang to him in her clear sweet tones. He was scarcely considered in danger, but his sickness was tedious, and would have seemed far more so without the companionship of his little daughter. Every day seemed to draw the ties of affection more closely between them. Yet fond as he was of her he ever made her feel that his will was always to be law to her, and while he required nothing contrary to her conscience she submitted without a murmur, both because she loved him so well that it was a pleasure to obey him, and also because she knew it was her duty to do so. But alas, duty was not always to be so easy and pleasant. It was Sabbath morning, all the family had gone to church. Accepting Elsie, who, as usual, sat by her papa's bedside, she had her Bible in her hand and was reading aloud. There, Elsie, that will do now, he said, as she finished her chapter. Go and get the book you were reading me yesterday. I wish to hear the rest of it this morning. Poor little Elsie. She rose to her feet, but stood irresolute. Her heart beat fast, her color came and went by turns, and her eyes filled with tears. The book her father made her read to him was simply a fictious moral tale, without a particle of religious truth in it, and Elsie's conscience told her entirely unfit for Sabbath reading. Elsie, exclaimed her father in a tone of mingle, reproof and surprise. Did you hear me? Yes, papa, she murmured in a low tone. Then go out once and get the book, as I bid you. It lies yonder on the dressing table. Elsie moved slowly across the room, her father looking after her somewhat impatiently. Come, Elsie, make haste, he said, as she laid her hand upon the book. I think I never saw you move so slowly. Without replying, she took it up and returned to the bedside. Then, as he caught sight of her face and saw that her cheeks were pale and wet with tears, he exclaimed, What? Crying? Elsie, what else do you, my daughter? Are you ill, darling? His tone was one of tender solicitude and accompanied with a caress. He took her hand and drew her toward him. Oh, papa, she saw, bling her head on the pillow beside him. Please do not ask me to read that book today. He did not reply for a moment, and when he did, Elsie was startled by the change in his voice. It was so exceedingly stern and severe. Elsie, he said, I do not ask you to read that book. I command you to do it. And what is more, I intend to be obeyed. Sit down at once and begin, and let me have no more of this perverseness. Dear papa, she answered in low, pleading, trembling tones. I do not, indeed, I do not want to be perverse and disobedient, but I cannot break the Sabbath day. Please, papa, let me finish it tomorrow. Elsie, he said in a tone a little less severe, but quite as determined, I see that you think that because you gained your point in relation to that song that you will always be allowed to do as you like in such matters, but you are mistaken. I am determined to be obeyed this time. I would not, by any means, bid you do anything I considered wrong, but I can see no harm whatever in reading that book today, and certainly I, who have lived so much longer and far more capable of judging in these matters than a little girl of your age. Why, my daughter, I have seen ministers reading worse books than that on the Sabbath. But papa, she replied timidly, you know the Bible says, they measuring themselves by themselves and comparing themselves among themselves are not wise. Are we not just to do whatever God commands without stopping to ask what other people do or say, for don't even the best people very often do wrong? Very well. Find me a text that says you are not to read such a book as this on the Sabbath, and I will let you wait until tomorrow. Elsie hesitated. I cannot find one that says just that, papa, she said, there is one that says we are not to think our own thoughts nor speak our own words on the Sabbath, and does not that mean worldly thoughts and words, and is not that book full of such things and only of such? Nonsense, he exclaimed impatiently. Let me hear no more of such stuff. You are entirely too young a childish to attempt a reason on such subjects. Your place is simply to obey. Are you going to do it? Oh, papa, she murmured almost under her breath. I cannot. Elsie, said he in a tone of great anger, I should certainly be greatly tempted to whip you into submission, had I the strength to do it. Elsie answered only by her tears and sobs. There was silence for a moment, and then her father said, Elsie, I expect from my daughter entire unquestioning obedience, and until you are ready to render it, I shall cease to treat you as my child. I shall banish you from my presence and my affections. This is the alternative I set before you. I will give you ten minutes to consider it. At the end of that time, if you are ready to obey me, well and good. If not, you will leave this room, not to enter it again, until you are ready to acknowledge your fault, as forgiveness and promise implicit obedience in the future. A low cry of utter despair broke from Elsie's lips, as she thus heard her sentence, pronounced in tones of calm, stern, determination, and hiding her face on the bed she sobbed convulsively. Her father lifted his watch from a little stand by the bedside and held it in his hand until the ten minutes expired. The time is up, Elsie, he said. Are you ready to obey me? Oh, papa, she sobbed, I cannot do it. Very well, then, he said coldly, if neither your sense of duty nor your affection for your sick father is strong enough to overcome your self-will, you know what you have to do. Leave the room at once and send one of the servants to attend me. I will not have such a perverse disobedient child in my presence. She raised her head, and he was touched by the look of anguish on her face. My daughter, he said, drawing her to him and pushing back the curls from her face, this separation will be as painful to me as you, yet I cannot yield my authority. I must have obedience from you. I ask again, will you obey me? He waited a moment for an answer, but Elsie's heart was too full for speech. Pushing her from him, he said, Go! Remember whenever you are ready to comply with the conditions you may return, but not till then. Elsie seized his hand in both of hers and covered it with kisses and tears, then without a word turned and left the room. He looked after her with a sigh muttering to himself. She has a spice of my own obstinacy in her nature, but I think a few days' banishment from me will bring her round. I am punishing myself quite as much, however, for it will be terribly hard to do without her. Elsie hastened to her own room, almost distracted with grief. The blow had been so sudden, so unexpected, so terrible, for she could see no end to her banishment, unless indeed a change should take place in her father's feelings, and of that she had very little hope. Flinging herself upon a couch, she wept long and bitterly. Her grief was deep and despairing, but there was no anger in it. On the contrary, her heart was filled with intense love to her father, who, she doubted not, was acting from a mistaken sense of duty, and she could scarcely bear the thought that now she should no longer be permitted to wait upon him and attend to his comfort. She had sent a servant to him, but a servant could ill supply a daughter's place, and her heart ached to think how he would miss her sympathy and love. An hour passed slowly away. The family returned from church, and the bell rang for dinner. But Elsie heeded it not. She had no desire for food, and still lay sobbing on her couch, till Chloe came to ask why she did not go down. The faithful creature was much surprised and distressed at the state in which she found her child, and raising her in her arms tenderly inquired into the cause of her grief. Elsie told her in a few words, and Chloe, without finding any fault with Mr. Dinsmore, strove to comfort the sorrowing child, assuring her of her own unalterable affection, and talking to her of the love of Jesus, who would help her to hear every trial and in his own good time remove it. Elsie grew calmer as she listened to her nurse's words. Her sobs and tears gradually ceased, and at length she allowed Chloe to bathe her face, and smooth her disordered hair and dress. But she refused to eat, and lay on her couch all afternoon with her sad little face, a sob now and then bursting from her bosom, and a tear trickling down her cheek. When the tea bell rang, she reluctantly yielded to Chloe's persuasions and went down, but it was a sad, uncomfortable meal to her, for she soon perceived, from the cold and averted looks of the whole family, that the cause of her banishment from her papa's room was known. Even her Aunt Adelaide, who was usually so kind, now seemed determined to take no notice of her, and before the meal was half over, Anna, frowning at her across the table, exclaimed in a loud, angry tone, Not a bad girl, Brother Horan sought to whip you. That he ought, added her grandfather severely, if he had the strength to do it, he is not likely to gain it, while worried with such a perverse disobedient child. She could not swallow another mouthful for the choking sensation in her throat, and it cost her a hard struggle to keep back the tears that seemed determined to force their way down her cheek at Anna's unkind speech. But the concluding sentence of her grandfather's remark cost her to start and tremble with fear on her father's account, yet she could not command her voice sufficiently to speak and ask if he were worse. There was indeed a very unfavorable change in Mr. Dinsmore, and he was really more alarmingly ill than he had been at all. His resistance to his authority had excited him so much as to bring on a return of his fever. Her absence fretted him, too, for no one else seemed to understand quite as well how to wait upon him, and besides, he was not altogether satisfied with himself, not entirely sure that the course he had adopted was the right one. Could he only have got rid of all doubts of the righteousness and justice of the sentence he had pronounced upon her, it would have been a great relief. He was very proud, a man of indomitable will, and very jealous of his authority, and between these on the one hand and his love for his child and desire for her presence on the other, a fierce struggle had been raging in his breast all the afternoon. As soon as she dared leave the table, Elsie stole out into the garden there to indulge her grief, unseen by any but the eye of God. She paced up and down her favorite walk, weeping and sobbing bitterly. Presently her attention was attracted by the galloping of a horse down the avenue, and raising her head she saw that it was the physician, returning from a visit to her father. It was not his usual hour for calling, and she at once conjectured that her father was worse. Her first impulse was to hasten to him, but instantly came the recollection that he had banished her from his presence, and sinking down upon a bank she burst into a fresh paroxysm of grief. It was so hard, so very hard, to know that he was ill and suffering and not to be permitted to go to him. At length she could bear it no longer, and springing up she hurried into the house, and gliding softly up the stairs stationed herself at her papa's door, determined to intercept someone passing in or out and inquire how he was. She had not been long there when her Aunt Adelaide came out, looking troubled and anxious. Oh, Aunt Adelaide cried the little girl, and a horse whispered catching her by the dress, dear Aunt Adelaide, do tell me, is Papa worse? Yes, Elsie, she replied coldly, attempting to pass on. He is much worse. The little girl burst into an agony of tears. You may well cry, Elsie, remarked her, and severely, for it is all your fault, and if you are left in orphan, you may thank your own perversions and obstinacy for it. Putting both hands over her face with a low cry of anguish, Elsie fell forward into a deep swan. Adelaide caught her air she had quite reached the floor, and hastily loosening her dress looked anxiously around for help. But none was at hand, and she dared not call a loud unless she should alarm her brother. So laying her gently down on the carpet she went in search of Chloe, whom she found, as she had expected, in Elsie's room. In a few hurried words Adelaide made her understand what had occurred, and that Elsie must be removed without the slightest noise or disturbance. Another moment Chloe was at her darling's side, and raising her gently in her strong arm she bore her quickly to her room, and laying her on a couch proceeded to apply restoratives, murmuring the while in low pitiful tones, the dear precious lamb. It most breaks your old mammy's heart to see you this way. It was long air consciousness returned, so long the Adelaide who stood by, gazing sorrowfully at the little wan face, and reproaching herself for her cruelty trembled and grew pale with apprehension. But at last, with a weary sigh, Elsie opened her eyes and looked up with a sad, bewildered expression into the dusky face bent so anxiously over her, and then with the feeling of intense relief, Adelaide slipped away to her own room, leaving them alone together. What is it, mammy, oh, I know, I remember, oh, mammy, mammy, will my dear precious papa die? sobbed the poor little girl throwing her arms around her nurse's neck. I hope not, darling, replied Chloe soothingly, massahorace, and pretty sick, I know, but I tinks the good lords spare him if we pray. Oh, yes, yes, mammy, let us pray for him. Let us both pray very earnestly, and I am sure God will spare him, because he has promised to grant whatever too shall agree to ask. They knelt down, and Chloe prayed in her broken way, and when she had finished Elsie poured out such a prayer as comes only from a heart ready to break with its load of sorrow and care. None but he who has tried it can tell what a blessed relief comes to those who thus cast their care upon Jesus. Elsie's burden was not less, but she no longer bore it alone. She had rolled it upon the Lord, and he sustained her. She shed a few quiet tears after she had later had upon her pillow, but soon forgot all her sorrows in a deep, sweet sleep that lasted until morning. It was still early when she awoke and sprang up with the intention of hastening as usual to her father's side, but alas, in another moment Mammy had recalled all the distressing events of the previous day, and sinking back upon her pillow she wept long and bitterly. But at length she dried her tears, and kneeling at the bedside poured out her sorrows and supplications into the ear of her Savior, and thus again grew calm and strong to endure. As soon as she was dressed she went to her papa's door, hoping to see someone who could tell her how he was, but no one came, and she dared not venture in, and her intense anxiety had yet found no relief when the bells summoned the family to breakfast. The same cold looks awaited her there as on the night before, and the poor child could scarcely eat, and was glad when the comfortless meal was over. She followed Adelaide to Mr. Dinsmore's door, and begged her, with tears and sobs, to ask her papa to allow her to come to him, if it was only for one moment, just to look at him, and then go away again. Adelaide was touched by her evident anxiety and distress, and said almost kindly, as she laid her hand on the handle of the door. Well, Elsie, I will ask him, but I have no idea that it will be of any use, unless you will give up your foolish obstinacy. But Elsie stood outside, waiting with a beating heart, and though her aunt was really gone but a moment, it seemed a long time to her ear of the door again opened. She looked up eagerly and read the answer on Adelaide's face ere she heard the coldly spoken stern message. Your papa says you very well know the conditions on which she will be admitted to his presence, and that they are as unalterable as the laws of the Meads and Persians. The tears gushed from Elsie's eyes, and she turned away with a gesture of despair. Elsie, said her aunt, let me advise you to give up at once, for I am perfectly certain you never can conquer your father. Oh, Aunt Adelaide, that is not what I want, murmured the child in low broken accents. But Adelaide went on without noticing the interruption. She is worse and growing worse all the time, Elsie. His fever has been very high ever since yesterday afternoon, and we all know that it is nothing but your misconduct that has caused this relapse. Elsie could bear no more, but rushing away to her own room and locking herself in, she gave way without restraint to her feelings of distress and anguish, knowing that she was not expected in the school room, as she had paid no attention to study since the beginning of her father's illness. She did not leave her room again until dinner time. She was on her way to the dining room when her aunt Adelaide, passing her in the hall, caught hold of her, saying, Elsie, your papa is so ill that the doctor trembles for his life. He says he is certain that he has something on his mind that is distressing him and causing this alarming change, and unless it is removed, he fears he will never be any better. Elsie, you know what that something is. Elsie stood as if turned to stone while Adelaide, letting go her arm moved quickly away, leaving her alone, stunned, bewildered, terrified by the suddenness of the dreadful announcement. She could not think or reason. She could only press her hands to her temples in the vain endeavor to still her wild throbbing, then turning back to her own room again. She threw herself upon her knees and resting her head against the bed gave vent to her overwrought feelings, in such groans of anguish as seldom come from the heart of one so young. At first she could neither weep nor pray, but at length tears came to her relief, and she poured out agonizing supplications, that her dear, dear papa might be spared at least until he had learned to love Jesus and was fit to go to heaven. She felt as though her heart would break at the very thought of being separated from him for ever in this world, but even that was as nothing compared to the more terrible fear of not meeting him in another. That was a long, sad afternoon to the poor child, the longest and saddest she had ever known. Chloe now and then brought her word how her father was, but no one else came near her to speak a word of comfort or hope. Toward evening they had given up almost all hope. He had ceased to recognize any one, and one after another, parents, brother, sisters, and servants had been permitted to take a last look. All but little Elsie, his own and only child, the one nearest and dearest to him, and to whom he was all the world. She alone was forbidden to come. She had begged and pled in tones that might have melted a heart of stone to be permitted to see his face once more in life, but Mrs. Dinsmore, who had taken the direction of everything, said, No, her father has forbidden it, and she shall not come unless she expresses her willingness to comply with his conditions. Adelaide had then ventured a plea on her behalf, but the reply was, I don't pity her at all, it is all her own doing. How much the harder is it for her to bear, I presume, urged Adelaide. There, Adelaide, that will do now. Let me hear no more about it, replied her lady mother, and there the matter dropped. Poor little Elsie tried to be submissive and forgiving, but she could not help feeling it was terribly hard and cruel, and almost more than she could bear, thus to be kept away from her sick and dying father. It was long air sleep visited her weary eyes that night. For after hours she lay on her pillow, pouring out prayers and tears on his behalf, until at length, completely worn out with sorrow, she fell into a deep and heavy slumber from which she waked, to find the morning sun streaming in at the windows, and Chloe, standing gazing down upon her with a very happy face. She started up from her pillow, asking eagerly, What is it, mammy? Oh, what is it? Is my papa better? Yes. Darling, mess the whorents much better this morning. The doctors say he'd go and get well now for Sarton if he don't get worse again. Oh, mammy, it seems too good to be true. Oh, how very, very good God has been to me, cried the little girl weeping for very joy. For a moment in the intensity of her happiness she forgot that she was still in disgrace and banishment, forgot everything but the joyful fact that her father was spared to her. But oh, she could not forget it long. The bitter recollection soon returned to damp her joy and fill her with sad verbodings. End of Chapter 4, Recording by Joyce Martin. Section 7 of Holidays at Roselands. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Joyce Martin. Holidays at Roselands by Martha Finley. I'll do what ere thou wilt, I'll be silent, but oh, a reined tongue and a bursting heart are hard at once to bear. Joanna Bailey's Basil. Mr. Dinsmore's recovery was not very rapid. It was several weeks after he was pronounced out of danger ere he was able to leave his room, and then he came down looking so altered, so pale and thin and weak that it almost broke his little daughter's heart to look at him. Very sad and lonely weeks those had been to her poor child. She was never once permitted to see him, and the whole family treated her with marked coldness and neglect. She had returned to her duties in the school room. Her father having sent her a command to that effect, as soon as he was sufficiently recovered to think of her, and she tried to attend faithfully to her studies, but more than once Miss Day had seen the tears dropping upon her book or slate and reproved her sharply for not giving her mind to her lessons and for indulging in what she called her babyish propensities. Mr. Dinsmore made his first appearance in the family circle one morning at breakfast, a servant assisting him downstairs and seating him in an easy chair at the table, just as the others were taking their places. Warm congratulations were showered upon him from all sides. I ran up to him exclaiming, I am so glad to see you down again, Brother Horance, and was rewarded with a smile and a kiss, while poor little Elsie, who had been directed, she knew not why, to take her old seat opposite to his, was unable to utter a word, but stood with one hand on the back of her chair, pale and trembling with emotion, watching him with eyes so blinded by tears that she could scarcely see, but no one seemed to notice her, and her father did not once turn his eyes that way. She thought of the morning when she had first met him there, her poor little heart hungering so for his love, and it seemed as if she had gone back again to that time, and yet it was worse, for now she had learned to love him with an intensity of affection she had never known, and having tasted the sweetness of his love, her sense of suffering at a loss was proportionally great, and utterly unable to control her feelings, she silently left the room to seek some place where she might give her bursting heart the relief of tears, with none to observe or reprove her. Elsie had a rare plant, the gift of a friend, which she had long been tending with great care and which had blossomed that morning for the first time. The flower was beautiful and very fragrant, and as the little girl stood gazing upon it with delighted eyes, while awaiting the summons to breakfast, she had said to Chloe, Oh, how I should like Papa to see it! He is so fond of flowers, and has been so anxious for this one to bloom. But a deep sigh followed as she thought what a long, long time it was likely to be, before her father would again enter her room, or permit her to go into his. He had not, however, forbidden her to speak to him, and the thought struck her that if he should be able to leave his room before the flower had faded, so that she could see and speak to him, she might pluck it off and present it to him. She thought of it again, while weeping alone in her room, and a faint hope sprang up in her heart that the little gift might open the way for reconciliation. But she must wait and watch for an opportunity to see him alone, for she could not, in the present state of affairs, think of addressing him before a third person. The opportunity came almost sooner than she had dared to hope, for, on passing the library door just after the morning lessons were over, she saw him sitting there alone, and trembling between hope and fear, she hurried it once to her room, plucked the beautiful blossom from its stem, and with it in her hand hastened to the library. She moved noiselessly across the thickly carpeted floor, and her papa, who was reading, did not seem to be aware of her approach until she was close at his side. He then raised his head, and looked at her with an expression of surprise on his continence. "'Dear Papa,' said the little girl, in faltering accents, as she presented the flower, "'my plant is bloomed at last. Will you accept this first blossom as a token of affection from your little daughter?' Her pleading eyes were fixed upon his face, and ere she had finished her sentence she was trembling violently at the dark frown she saw gathering there. "'Else,' said he, in the cold, stern look she so much dreaded. "'I am sorry you have broken your flower. I cannot divine your motive. Affection for me it cannot be, for that such a feeling exists in the breast of a little girl, who not only could refuse her sick father the very small favor of reading to him, but would rather see him die than give up her own self-will, I cannot believe. No, Elsie, take it away. I can receive no gifts or tokens of affection from a rebellious disobedient child. The flower had fallen upon the floor, and Elsie stood in an attitude of utter despair, her head bent down upon her breast, and her hands hanging listlessly at her side. For an instant she stood thus, and then, with a sudden revulsion of feeling, she sank down on her knees beside her father's chair, and, seizing his hand in both of hers, pressed it to her heart and then to her lips, covering it with kisses and tears, while great bursting sob shook her whole frame. "'Oh, Papa, dear, dear Papa, I do love you. Indeed, indeed I do. Oh, how could you say such cruel words to me?' she sobbed. "'Hush!' he said, withdrawing his hand. "'I will have nothing but the truth from you, and actions speak louder than words. Get up immediately. Dry your tears. Miss Day tells me that you are ruining your eyes by continual crying, and if I hear any more such complaints I shall punish you severely. I will not allow it at all, for you have nothing whatever to make you unhappy but your own misconduct. Just as soon as you are ready to submit to my authority you will find yourself treated with the same indulgence and affection as formerly, but remember not till then.' His words were like daggers to the affectionate, sensitive child. He had stabbed her to the heart. He could not have hurt her more. "'Oh, Papa!' she murmured in heartbroken accents. As in obedience to his command she rose to her feet, struggling hard to keep back the tears he had forbidden her to shed. But her emotion did not seem to move him. Her conduct, during his severe illness, had been so misrepresented to him that at times he was well not convinced that her seeming affection was all hypocrisy, and that she really regarded him only in the light of a tyrant, from whose authority she would be glad to escape in any way. "'Pick up your flower and leave the room,' he said. "'I have no desire for your company until you can learn to obey as you ought.' Silently and mechanically Elci obeyed him, and hastening to her own room threw herself into her nurse's arms, weeping as though she would weep her very life away. Chloe asked no questions as to the cause of her emotion, which the flower in her hand and the remembrance of the morning's conversation sufficiently explained, but tried in every way to soothe and encourage her to hope for future reconciliation. For some moments her efforts seemed to be quite unavailing, but suddenly Elci raised her head, and wiping away her tears, said with a convulsive sob, "'Oh, I am doing wrong again! For Papa has forbidden me to cry so much, and I must try to obey him.' "'But oh!' she exclaimed, dropping her head on her nurse's shoulder, with a fresh burst of tears. How can I help it when my heart is bursting?' "'Jesus will help you, darlin,' replied Chloe tenderly. He always helps his chillens to bear all the troubles and do all their duties, and never leaves nor forsakes them. But you must try, darlin, to mine Massaharons. Case, he's your own Papa, and the Bible says, Chillen, obey your parents.' "'Yes, mammy, I know I ought, and I will try,' said the little girl, raising her head, and wiping her eyes. But mammy, you must pray for me, for it will be very, very difficult.' Elci had never been an eye-servant, but had always conscientiously obeyed her father, whether present or absent. And hence-forward she constantly struggled to restrain her feelings, and even in solitude denied her bursting heart the relief of tears. Though it was not always she could do this, for she was but young in the school of affliction, and often, in spite of every effort, grief would have its way, and she was ready to sink beneath her heavy weight of sorrow. Elci had learned from God's holy word that affliction cometh not forth of the dust, neither doth trouble spring out of the ground, and she soon set herself diligently to work to find out why this bitter trial had been sent her. Her little Bible had never been suffered to lie a single day unused, nor had a morning or evening ever failed to find her in her closet. She had neglected none of the forms of religion, and her devotions had been far from heartless. Yet she discovered with pain that she had of late spent less time and found less of her enjoyment in these duties than formerly. That she had been too much engrossed by an earthly love, and needed this trial to bring her nearer to her saviour, and teach her again to seek all her happiness in looking unto him. And now the hours that she had been want to pass in her father's society were usually spent in her own room alone with her Bible and her God, and there she found that sweet peace and joy which the world can neither give nor take away, and thus she gathered strength to bear her troubles and crosses with heavenly meekness and patience, and she had indeed great need of a strength not her own, for every day and almost every hour brought with it its own peculiar trial. No one but the servants who still loved her dearly treated her with kindness, but coldness and neglect were the least she had to bear. She was constantly reminded, even by Walter and Anna, that she was stubborn and disobedient, and there was so little pleasure in her walks and rides, either when taken alone or in company with them, that she gradually gave them up almost entirely, until one day her father's attention being called to it by a remark of Mrs. Dinsmore's, that it was no wonder the child was growing thin and pale, for she did not take exercise enough to keep her in health. He called her to him, reprimanded her severely, and laid his commands upon her to take a walk and ride every day, when the weather would at all permit, but never dared to go alone further than into the garden. I'll see answered with meek submission, promising obedience, and then turn quickly away to hide the emotion that was swelling in her breast. The change in her father was the bitterest part of her trial. She had so reveled in his affection, and now it seemed to be all withdrawn from her, and from the fond, indulgent parent Mr. Dinsmore seemed suddenly to have changed to the cold, pitiless tyrant. He now seldom took any notice of his little daughter, and never addressed her, unless it were to utter a rebuke, a threat, a prohibition, or command, in tones of harshness and severity. Elsie bore it, with all the meekness and patience of a martyr, but erelong her health began to suffer. She grew weak and nervous, and would start and tremble and change color at the very sound of her father's stepper voice. Those sounds which she had once so loved to hear, and the little face became thin and pale, and an expression of deep and touching sadness settled down upon it. Love was as necessary to Elsie's health and happiness as sunshine to the flowers, and, even as the keen winds and biting frosts of winter wilt and wither the tender blossoms, so did all this coldness and severity, the gentle, sensitive spirit of the little child. Mr. Travella had called several times during the early part of Mr. Dinsmore's illness, while Elsie had been his nurse, and she sometimes wondered that she had seen nothing of him during all those sorrowful weeks, but the truth was Mr. Travella had been absent from home and knew nothing of all that had been going on at the Roselands. As soon, however, as he returned, and heard how ill his friend had been, he called to express his sympathy and congratulate him on his recovery. He found Mr. Dinsmore seated in an easy chair in the library, still looking weak and ill, and more depressed in spirits than he had ever seen him. Ah! Dinsmore, my dear fellow! I hear you have been very ill, and indeed, I must say you are looking far from well yet. Travella exclaimed in his cheerful hearty way, shaking his friend's hand warmly. I think my little friend Elsie has deserted her post almost too soon, but I suppose you have sent her back to her lessons again. He remarked, glancing around as if in search of her. I have no need of nursing now, replied Mr. Dinsmore, with a sad sort of smile. I am able to ride, and even to walk out, and shall, I hope, soon be quite myself again. He then introduced another topic of conversation, and they chatted for some time. At length Mr. Travella drew out his watch. I see it as past school hours, he said. Might I see my little friend? I have brought a little gift for her, and she'd like to present it in person. Mr. Dinsmore had become quite animated and cheerful during their previous conversation, but a great change came over his face while Mr. Travella was making his request, and the expression of his continence was very cold and stern, as he replied. I thank you, Travella, on her behalf, but if you please, I would much prefer you're not giving her anything at present, for I am sorry to say Elsie has been very stubborn and rebellious of late, and is quite undeserving of any indulgence. Mr. Travella looked exceedingly astonished. Is it possible, he exclaimed? Really? I have had such an exalted opinion of Elsie's goodness that I could not have credited such a charge from any one but her father. No, nor could I, replied Mr. Dinsmore, leaning his head upon his hand with his heavy sigh. But it is, as I tell you, and you see now that I have some cause for the depression of spirits upon which you have been rallying me. Travella, I love that child, as I have never loved another earthly thing except her mother, and it cuts me to the quick to have her rebel as she has been doing for the past five weeks. It is almost more than I can bear in my present week state. I thought she loved me devotedly, but it seems I was mistaken, for surely obedience is the best test of love, and she refuses me that. She paused for a moment, apparently quite overcome by his feelings, then went on. I have been compelled to banish her from my presence, but alas I find I cannot tear her from my heart and I miss her every moment. Mr. Travella looked very much concerned. I am sorry indeed, he said, to hear such an account of my little friend, but her love for you I cannot doubt and we will hope that she will soon return to her duty. Thank you, Travella. I am always sure of your sympathy in any kind of trouble, replied Mr. Dinsmore, trying to speak cheerfully, but we will leave this disagreeable subject and talk of something else. In a few moments Mr. Travella rose to take leave, declining Mr. Dinsmore's urgent invitation to remain to dinner, but promising to come again before long and stay a day or two. His kind heart was really pained to learn that there was again a misunderstanding between his little friend, as he had been in the habit of calling Elsie and her father, and as he rode home silently pondering the matter he determined that he would very soon fulfill his promise of paying a longer visit, for he could not refrain from indulging a faint hope that he might be able to accomplish something as mediator between them. A few days after this Elsie was passing down the hall. The doors and windows were all open for it was a warm spring day and as she passed the drawing-room door she paused a moment and looked in. Her father sat reading near one of the windows and her eyes were riveted upon his face. He was still pale from his recent illness and his face had a troubled, care-worn look, very different from its usual expression. Oh, what a longing desire came over the little girl at that sight to go to him and say that she was sorry for all the past and that in the future she would be and do everything that he asked. She burst into tears and turned hastily away. She was hurrying out to the garden, but at the door she encountered her Aunt Adelaide. What is the matter, Elsie, she asked, putting her hand on the child's shoulder and forcibly detaining her. Oh, Aunt Adelaide saw the little girl pop a look so ill and sad. And no wonder, Elsie, replied her aunt severely, you are quite enough to make him sad and ill, too, with your perverse obstinate ways. You have yourself to thank for it all, for it is just that and nothing else that ails him. She turned away as she spoke, and poor Elsie, wringing her hands in an agony of grief, darted down the garden-walk to her favorite arbor. Her eyes were so blinded by tears that she did not see Mr. Trevella was sitting there until she was close beside him. She turned then and would have run away again, but he caught her by the dress, and drawing her gently toward him, said in a mild soothing tone, Don't run away from me, my poor little friend, but tell me the cause of your sorrow, and who knows, but I may be able to assist you. Elsie shook her head mournfully, but allowed him to set her on his knee and put his arm around her. My poor child, my poor dear little girl, he said, wiping away her tears and kissing her very much as her father had been in the habit of doing. It reminded her of him, and his lost love, and caused a fresh burst of tears and sobs. Poor child, said Mr. Trevella again, is there nothing I can do for you? Will you not tell me the cause of your grief? Oh, Mr. Trevella, she sobbed, Papa is very much displeased with me, and he looks so sad and ill, it almost breaks my heart. And why is he displeased with you, my dear? If you have done wrong and are sorry for your fault, I am sure you have only to confess it and ask forgiveness, and all will be right again, he said kindly, drawing her head down upon his breast, and smoothing back the curls from her flushed and tear-stained face. Elsie made no reply, and he went on, when we have done wrong, my dear little girl, as we all do sometimes, it is much more noble to acknowledge it and ask pardon than to try and hide our faults. And you know, dear little Elsie, he added in a graver tone, that the Bible teaches us that children must obey their parents. Yes, Mr. Trevella, she answered, I know that the Bible says he that covereth his sin shall not prosper, and I know it tells me to obey my father, and I do think I am willing to confess my faults, and I do try to obey Papa in everything that is right, but sometimes he bids me disobey God, and you know the Bible says we ought to obey God rather than man. I am afraid, my dear, said Mr. Trevella, gently, that you are perhaps a little too much inclined to judge for yourself about right or wrong. You must remember that you are but a very little girl yet, and that your father is very much older and wiser, and therefore I should say it would be much safer to leave it to him to decide these matters. Besides, if he bids you, do thus and so, I think all the responsibility for the wrong, supposing there is any, will rest with him, and he, not you, will have to account for it. Oh, no, Mr. Trevella replied the little girl, honestly, my Bible teaches me better than that, for it says every one of us shall give account of himself to God, and in another place the soul that sineth it shall die, so I know that I and not Papa nor anyone else will have to give account for my sins. I see it will never do for me to try to quote Scripture to you, he remarked, looking rather disconfident, for you now great deal more about it than I do. But I am very anxious to see you and your father friends again, for I cannot bear to see you both looking so unhappy. You have a good father, Elsie, and one that you may well be proud of. For a more high-minded, honorable gentleman cannot be found anywhere, and I am quite sure he would never require you to do anything very wrong. Have you any objection, my dear, to telling me what it is? He bade me read to him, one Sabbath day, a book which was only fit for weekday reading, because it had nothing at all in it about God or being good, and I could not do that. And now he says I must say I am sorry I refuse to obey him that time, and promised to do exactly as he bids me in the future, replied Elsie Weeping, and oh, Mr. Trevella, I cannot do that. I cannot say I am sorry I did not disobey God, nor that I will disobey him in the future if Papa bids me. But if that was a sin, Elsie, it was surely a very little one. I don't think God would be very angry with you for anything so small as that, he said very gravely. Mr. Trevella, as Elsie replied in a tone of deep-saw limnity, it is written, cursed is everyone that continueeth not in all things which are written in the book of the law to do them. That is in the Bible, and the catechism says every sin deserved the wrath and curse of God. And oh, Mr. Trevella, she added in a tone of anguish, if you knew how hard it is for me to keep from giving up and doing what my conscience says is wrong, you wouldn't try to persuade me to do it. Mr. Trevella knew not what to say. He was both perplexed and distressed. But just at that moment a step was heard coming down the path. Elsie recognized it instantly, and began to tremble, and the next moment her father entered the arbor. Mr. Dinsmore felt a pang of jealousy at seeing his little girl in Trevella's arms, which he would have been ashamed to acknowledge to himself, but it caused his tone to be even more than usually stern and severe, as he hastily inquired. What are you doing here, Elsie? Crying again after all I have said to you, go to your room this moment and stay there until you can show a cheerful face. Mr. Trevella set her down, and she obeyed without a word, not even daring to look at her father. There was a moment of embarrassing silence after she had gone. Then Trevella said, It seems Elsie stumbled upon me here quite unexpectedly, and I detained her somewhat against her will, I believe, and have been doing my best to persuade her that she ought to be entirely submissive to you. Mr. Dinsmore looked interested, but replied with a sigh. I fear you did not succeed. She is sadly obstinate, and I begin to fear I shall have to use great severity before I can conquer her. Mr. Trevella hesitated a moment, then said. I am afraid, Dinsmore, that she has the right of it. She quoted scripture to me till I really had no more to say. Mr. Dinsmore looked displeased. I should think, he said almost hotly, that the Fifth Commandment would be answer enough to any argument she could bring to excuse her disobedience. We do not all see alike, Dinsmore remarked his friend, and though I do not say that you are wrong, I must acknowledge that were I in your place, I should do differently, because I should fear that the child was acting from principle rather than self-gwill or obstinacy. Live up to her, Trevella? Never. It astonishes me that you could suggest such a thing, exclaimed Mr. Dinsmore with almost fierce determination. No, I will conquer her. I will break her will, though in doing so I break my own heart. And hers too, murmured Trevella, in a low, sad tone, more as if thinking aloud than answering his friend. Mr. Dinsmore started. No, no, he said hurriedly. There is no danger of that. All she would certainly have given up long ago. Trevella shook his head, but made no reply. And presently Mr. Dinsmore rose and led the way to the house. End of Chapter 5. This is the LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Holidays at Roselands by Martha Finley. Chapter 6. Part 1. The storm of grief bears heart upon her youth, and bends her like a dripping flower to earth. Rose fair penitent. You're not looking quite well yet, Mr. Dinsmore, remarked a lady visitor who had called one day to see the family. And your little daughter, I think, looks as if she too has been ill. She is very thin, and seems to have entirely lost her bright color. Elsie had just left the room a moment before the remark was made. Mr. Dinsmore started slightly. I believe she is a little pale, replied in a tone of annoyance. But as she makes no complaint, I do not think that there can be anything seriously amiss. Perhaps not, said the lady indifferently, but if she were my child, I should be afraid she was going into a decline. Really, Mrs. Gray, I don't know what should put such a notion into your head, exclaimed Mrs. Dinsmore, for I assure you that Elsie has always been a perfectly healthy child since I have known her. Oh, well, it was but the thought of a moment, replied Mrs. Gray, rising to take leave. And I am glad to hear there is no ground for fear, for Elsie is certainly a very sweet little girl. Mr. Dinsmore handed Mrs. Gray to her carriage, and re-entering the house went into the little back parlor, where Elsie, the only other occupant of the room, sat reading in a corner of the sofa. He did not speak to her, but began pacing back and forth across the floor. Mrs. Gray's words had alarmed him. He could not forget them, and whenever in his walk his face was turned towards his child, he bent his eyes upon her, with the keen, searching gaze, and he was surprised that he had not before noticed how thin and pale and care-worn that little face had grown. Elsie, he said suddenly, pausing in his walk. The child started and colored as she raised her eyes from the book to his face, asking in a half-tremulous tone, What, Papa? Sit down your book and come to me, he replied, seating himself. His tone lacked its usual harshness, and the little girl came to him trembling so that she could scarcely stand. It displeased him. Elsie, he said, as he took her hand and drew her in between his knees, why do you always start and change color when I speak to you? And why are you trembling now as if you were venturing into the lion's jaws? Are you afraid of me? Speak. Yes, Papa, she replied, the tears rolling down her cheeks. You always speak so sternly to me now that I cannot help feeling frightened. Well, I didn't intend to be stern this time, he said more gently than he had spoken to her for a long while. But tell me, my daughter, are you quite well? You're growing very pale and thin, and I want to know if anything ails you. Nothing, Papa, but the rest of her sands was lost in a burst of tears. But what, he asked, almost kindly, oh, Papa, you know I want your love, how can I live without it? You need not, Elsie, he answered very gravely. You have only to bow that stubborn will of yours, to have all the love and all the caresses you can ask for. Seeing her eyes, she looked up, besiegingly, into his face, asking in pleading tones, Dear Papa, won't you give me one kiss, just one? Think how long I have been without one. Elsie, say I am sorry, Papa, that I refuse to obey you on that Sabbath day. Will you please forgive me, and I will always be obedient in future? That is all I require. Say it and you will be at once entirely restored to favour. I am very sorry, Dear Papa, for all the naughty things I have ever done, and I will always try to obey you. If you do not bid me break God's commandments, she answered in a low, tremulous voice. That will not do, Elsie, it is not what I bid you say. I will have no if in the matter. Nothing but implicit, unconditional obedience, he said in a tone of severity. He paused for reply, but receiving none, continued, I see you are still stubborn, and I shall be compelled to take severe measures to subdue you. I do not yet know what they will be, but one thing is certain, I will not keep a rebellious child in my sight. They are boarding schools where children can be sent who are unworthy to enjoy the privileges and comforts of home. Oh, Papa, Dear Papa, don't send me away from you, I should die! She cried in accents of terror and despair, throwing her arms around his neck and clinging to him in a convulsive grasp. Punish me in any other way you choose, but oh, don't send me where I cannot see you! He gently disengaged her arms, and without returning her caress said gravely and almost sadly, Go now to your room, I have not yet decided what course to take, but you have only to submit to escape all punishment. She retired, we think bitterly, passing Adelaide as she went out. What is the matter now? asked Adelaide of her brother, who was striding impatiently up and down the room. Nothing but the old story, he replied. She is the most stubborn child I ever saw. Strange, he added musingly. I once thought her rather too yielding. Adelaide, he said, sitting down by his sister and leaning his head upon his hand, with a deep, drawn sigh. I am terribly perplexed. This estrangement is killing us both. Have you noticed how thin and pale she is growing? It distresses me to see it, but what can I do? Give up to where I cannot. It is not once to be thought of. I am sorry I ever began the struggle, but since it is begun she must and shall submit. And it really becomes a serious question with me whether it would not be the truest kindness just to conquer her thoroughly and at once, by an appeal to the rod. Oh, no, Horace, don't. Don't think of such a thing, beg of you, exclaimed Adelaide, with tears in her eyes. Such a delicate, sensitive little creature as she is. I do believe it would quite break her heart to be subjected to so ignominious of punishment. Surely you could adopt some other measure, less revolting to one's feelings, and yet perhaps quite as effectual. I couldn't bear to have you do it. I would try everything else first. I assure you, Adelaide, it would be exceedingly painful to my feelings, he said, and yet so anxious am I to subdue Elsie, and end this trying state of affairs, that were I certain of gaining my point even by great severity, I would not hesitate a moment. But I am very doubtful whether she could be conquered in that way, and I would not like to undertake it unless I could carry it through. I hinted at boarding school, which seemed to alarm her very much, but I shall not try it, least not yet, for she is my only child, and I still love her too well to give her up to the tender mercies of strangers. Ah, you don't know how strongly I was tempted to give her a kiss just now when she begged so hard for it. But what shall I do with her, Adelaide? Have you no suggestion to make? Indeed, I don't know what to say, Horace. I shouldn't like to give up to her if I were you. It does seem as if you ought to conquer her. If you don't do it now, I don't believe you ever will. Yes, that's just it, he said. I have sometimes felt sorry for having begun the struggle, and yet perhaps it is just as well, since it must have come sooner or later. Ten years hence I shall want to take her occasionally to the theatre, or opera, or perhaps now and then to a ball, and unless I can eradicate these ridiculously strict notions she has gotten to her head, she'll be sure to rebel then, when she'll be rather too old to punish, at least in the same way in which I'm a punisher now. I thought he's just struck me, Horace, said Adelaide suddenly. Well, what is it, he asked? Adelaide hesitated. She felt some little sympathy for Elsie, and did not quite like to propose a measure which she knew would give her great pain, but at length she said in a half regretful tone. I think, Horace, that Aunt Chloe upholds Elsie in her obstinacy, and makes her think herself a martyr to principle, for you know how she has the same strange notions, which they both learned from the old housekeeper, Mrs. Murray, who was an old-fashioned Presbyterian of the strictest sort, and now, as Elsie is still so young, it seems to me it might be possible to change her views if she were entirely removed from all such influences. But take notice, Horace, I do not advise it, for I know it would well and I break both their hearts. For a moment Mr. Dinsmore seemed lost in thought. Then he spoke. That is a wise suggestion, Adelaide. I thank you for it, and shall certainly take it into consideration. Yet it is a measure which I feel loathed to adopt, for Chloe has been a most faithful creature. I feel that I owe her a debt of gratitude for the excellent care she has taken of Elsie, and of her mother before her, and as you say, I fear it would well and I break both their hearts. But if less severe measures fail, I shall feel compelled to try it, for I am more anxious than I can tell you to bring Elsie to unconditional obedience. Here is a letter for you, Elsie, said her grandfather the next morning at the breakfast table. Here, Pomp, to the servant, hand this to Ms. Elsie. The child's eyes sparkled with pleasure, and she held at her hand eagerly to take it. But her father interfered. No, Pomp, he said, bring it to me, and remember in future that I am to receive all Ms. Elsie's letters. She relinquished it instantly, without a word of remonstrance, but her heart was so full that she could not eat another morsel. And in spite of all her efforts, the tears would come into her eyes as she saw her father deliberately open and read the letter, and then refold it and put it into his pocket. He looked at her as he did so, and seeing the tears rolling down her cheeks, sternly bade her leave the room. She obeyed, feeling more angry and rebellious towards him than she ever had before. It seemed so cruel and unjust to deprive her of her own letters. One of Ms. Rose's, as she knew it must be, for she had no other correspondent, which never contained anything but what was good, and kind, and comforting. They were always a great treat to the little girl, and she had been longer than usual with that one, and had been looking longingly for it every day for several weeks past. For sad and lonely as her days now were, she felt very keenly the need of her friend's sympathy and love, and now to have this letter taken from her, just as she had her hand upon it, seemed a disappointment almost too great to be endured. She had a hard struggle with herself before she could put away entirely her feelings of anger and impatience. Oh, this is not honouring Papa, she said to herself. He may have good reasons for what he has done, and as I belong to him, he certainly has a sort of right to everything that is mine. I will try to be submissive, and wait patiently until he sees fit to give me my letter, as perhaps he will sometime. All the morning the thought of her letter was scarcely out of her mind, and as soon as she was released from school duties and just for dinner she went down to the drawing-room, hoping that her father might be there, and that he would give it to her. But he was not in, and when he came brought a number of strangers with him, who remained until after tea, so that all the afternoon passed away without affording her an opportunity to speak to him. But to her great joy the visitors all left early in the evening, accepting a very mild, pleasant-looking elderly gentleman, who had settled himself in the portico with Anna on his knees. Elsie was watching her father's movements, and was not sorry to see him after the departure of his guests return to the drawing-room and take up the evening paper. No one else was at that end of the room, so now at last she might speak to him without fear of being overheard. She was glad, too, that his back was towards her, for she had grown very timid about approaching him of late. She stole softly up to the back of his chair, stood there at some moments without speaking, her heart beat so fast with mingled hope and fear that it seemed impossible to command her voice. But at last, coming to his side, she said in a tone so low and tremulous as to be almost inaudible, Papa. Well, Elsie, what do you want? He asked with his eyes still on the paper. Dear Papa, I do so want to see Miss Rose's letter. Won't you please give it to me? She waited a moment for a reply and asked again, may I not have it, Papa? Yes, Elsie, you may have that and everything else you want. Just as soon you show yourself a submissive, obedient child. Tears gathered in Elsie's eyes, but she resolutely forced them back and made one more appeal. Dear Papa, she said, in pleading, tearful tones. You don't know how I've looked longed for that letter, and I do want it so very much. Won't you let me see it for just a few moments? You have your answer, Elsie, he said coldly, and it is the only one I have to give you. Elsie turned and walked away, silently crying as she went. But there she had reached the door. He called her back and looking sternly at her as she again stood trembling and weeping at his side. Remember, he said, that from this time forth I forbid you to write or receive any letters, which do not pass through my hands, and I shall not allow you to correspond with Miss Allison or anyone else indeed until you become a more dutiful child. Oh, Papa, what will Miss Allison think if I don't answer her letter? Exclaimed Elsie, weeping bitterly. I shall wait a few weeks, he said, to see if you were going to be a better girl, and then if you remain stubborn, I shall write to her myself and tell her that I have stopped the correspondence and my reasons for doing so. Oh, Papa, dear Papa, please don't do that, cried the little girl in great distress. I'm afraid if you do, she will never love me anymore, for she will think me such a very bad child. If she does, she will have only a just opinion of you, replied her father coldly, and all your friends will soon cease to love you if you continue to show such a willful temper. My patience is almost worn out, Elsie, and I shall try some very severe measures before long, lest you see proper to a submit. Go now to your own room. I do not wish to see you again tonight. Good night, Papa, subbed the little girl as she turned to obey him. Elsie, my daughter, he said, suddenly seizing her hand and drawing her to his side. Why will you not give up this strange willfulness and let your Papa have his own darling again? I love you dearly, my child, and it pains me more than I can express to see you so unhappy. He added, gently pushing back, the curls from the tear-stained face upturned to his. His tone had all the old fondness, and Elsie's heart thrilled at the very sound. His look, too, was tender and affectionate, and throwing down his paper, he lifted her to his knee and passed his arm round her waist. Elsie laid her head against his breast, as was her one before their unhappy ensrangement, while he passed his hand crestingly over her curls. Speak, my daughter, he said in the low tone, full of tenderness. Speak and tell Papa that he has his own dutiful little daughter again. His heart aches to receive her. Must he do without her still? The temptation to yield was very strong. She loved him, oh, how dearly! Could she bear to go on making him unhappy? He was such rest, such joy! Thus once more to feel herself folded to his heart, and hear his dear voice speaking to her in loving, tender tones. Can it be wondered at that for a moment Elsie wavered? On the one hand she saw her father's fond affection, indulgent kindness, and loving crests. On the other, banishment from his love, perhaps from home, cold, stern, harsh words and looks. And what more might be meant by the very severe measures he threatened? She trembled to think. For a moment she was silent. For a mighty struggle was going on in her heart. It was hard, very hard, to give up her father's love. But the love of Jesus, ah, that was more precious still. The struggle was passed. Papa, she said, raising an earnest, tearful little face to his, speaking in tones tremulous with emotion. Dear, dear Papa, I do love you so very, very much. And I do want to be to you a good, obedient child. But Papa, Jesus says, he that love with father or mother more than me, is not worthy of me. And I must love Jesus best and keep his commandments always. But you bid me say that I am sorry I refuse to break them. That I will yield implicit obedience to you, even though you should command me to disobey him. Oh, Papa, I cannot do that. Even though you should never love me again, even though you should put me to death. The cold, stern expression had returned to his face before she had half finished. And putting her off his knee, he said, in a severest tone, go, disobedient, rebellious child. How often have I told you that you are too young to judge of such matters, and must leave all that to me, your father, a natural guardian, whom the Bible itself commands you to obey? I will find means to conquer you yet, Elsie. If affection and mild measures will not do it, severity shall. He rose and walked hastily up and down the floor, excited and angry, while poor Elsie went weeping from the room. Is that one of your sisters, my dear? Asked the old gentleman of Enna, as he saw the sobbing Elsie pass through the hall on her way upstairs. No, that is brother Horace's daughter, replied Enna scornfully. She is a real naughty girl and won't mind her papa at all. Ah, said the old gentleman gravely. I am sorry to hear it, but I hope you will always obey your papa. Indeed, my papa lets me do as I please, said Enna with a little toss of her head. I don't have to mind anybody. Ah, then I consider you a very unfortunate child, remarked the old gentleman, still more gravely. For it is by no means good for a little one like you to have too much her own way. Mr. Grier, for that was the old gentleman's name, had been very much interested in the Elsie's appearance. He had noticed the look of sadness on her very young face and conjectured from something in the manner of the rest of the family towards her, that she was in disgrace, yet he was sure there is no stubbornness or self-will on the expression of that meek and gentle countenance. He began to suspect that some injustice had been done to the little girl and determined to watch and see if she were indeed the naughty child she was represented to be. And if he found her to be as good as he was inclined to believe, to try to gain her confidence and see if he could help her out of her troubles. End of chapter six, part one. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Chapter six, part two of Holidays at Roselands by Martha Finley. But Elsie did not come down again that evening, and though he saw her at the breakfast table the next morning, she slipped away so immediately after the conclusion of the meal that he had no opportunity to speak to her. And at dinner it was just the same. But in the afternoon, seeing her walk out alone, he put on his hat and followed at a little distance. She was going towards the quarter and he presently saw her enter a cabin where he had been told a poor old colored woman who was lying ill and perhaps on her deathbed. Very quietly he drew near the door of the hut and seating himself on a low bench on the outside found that he could both see and hear all that was going on without himself being perceived as Elsie had her back to the door and poor old Dinah was blind. I have come to read to you again, Aunt Dinah, said the little girl in her sweet gentle tones. Thank you, my young Mrs. You is very kind, replied the old woman feebly. Elsie had already opened her Bible and in the same sweet gentle voice in which she had spoken, she now read aloud the third chapter of St. John's Gospel. When she had finished reading the 16th verse, God so loved the world that he gave his only begotten son that whosoever believe within him should not perish but have everlasting life. She paused and exclaimed, oh Dinah, is that not beautiful? Does it not make you glad? You see it does not say whosoever is good and holy or whosoever has not sinned but it is whosoever believes in Jesus, the only begotten son of God. If it was only the good Aunt Dinah, you and I could never hope to be saved because we are both great sinners. Not you, Miss Elsie, not you, Dinah, interrupted the old woman. Old Dinah is a great sinner, she knows that well enough, but you, Dinah, you never did nothing bad. Yes, Dinah, said the little voice in saddened tones, I have a very wicked heart and have been a sinner all my life but I know that Jesus died to save sinners and that whosoever believes in him shall have eternal life and I do believe and I want you to believe and then you too will be saved. Did the good Lord Jesus die for poor old Dinah, Miss Elsie? She asked eagerly, yes, Aunt Dinah, if you will believe in him, it says whosoever believeeth. Well, Dinah, I don't know how to believe, child, can't do it know how. You must ask God to teach you, Dinah, replied the little girl earnestly. For the Bible says faith, that means believing, is the gift of God. You don't mean that, Miss Elsie, you don't mean that God will say poor old Dinah and give her heaven on all for nothing, she inquired, raising herself on her elbow in her eagerness. Yes, Dinah, God says without money and without price. Can't you believe him? Suppose I should come and put $100 in your hand, saying, here Aunt Dinah, I give you this, you're old and sick and poor and I know you can do nothing to earn it, but it is a free gift, just take it and it is yours. Wouldn't you believe me and take it? Deed I would, Miss Elsie, because you never told nothing but the truth. Well then, can't you believe God when he says that he will save you? Can't you believe Jesus when he says I give unto them eternal life? Yes, yes, Miss Elsie, I do believe. Read the blessed words again, darling. Elsie read the verse again and then finished the chapter. In closing the book, she asked softly, shall we pray now, Aunt Dinah? Dinah gave an eagerness ent and Elsie kneeling down by the bedside, prayed in simple childlike words that Jesus would reveal himself to poor old Dinah as her savior, that the Holy Spirit would be her sanctifier and comforter, working faith in her and thereby uniting her to Christ, that God would adopt her into his family and be her God in portion forever and that Jesus would be her shepherd so that she need fear no evil, even though called to pass through the dark valley of the shadow of death. Amen, was Dinah's fervent response to each of the petitions. The good Lord blessed you, darling, she said, taking Elsie's little white hand in hers and pressing it to her lips. The good Lord blessed and keep you and never let trouble come near you. You know there's nothing about trouble now for you is young and handsome and rich and good and mess a horse, he dotes on you. No, you don't know nothing about trouble but old Dinah does, because she's old and sick and full of aches and pains. Yes, Aunt Dinah, and I am very sorry for you, but remember, if you believe in Jesus, you will soon go to heaven where you will never be sick or in pain anymore. But Dinah and the little voice grew very mournful. We cannot always know when others are in trouble and I want you to pray for me that I may always have strength to do right. I will, darling, deed I will, said Dinah earnestly, kissing the little hand again, air she released it. As Elsie sees speaking, Mr. Grier slipped quietly away and continued his walk. From what he had just seen and heard, he felt fully convinced that Elsie was not the wicked, disobedient child, Anna had represented her to be, yet he knew that Anna was not alone in her opinion since it was very evident that Elsie was in disgrace with the whole family, her father especially, and that she was very unhappy. He felt his heart drawn out in sympathy for the child and longed to be able to assist her in regaining her father's favor, yet he knew not how to do it. For how was he to learn the facts in the case without seeming to pry into the family secrets of his kind and their tainers? But there is one comfort he could do for her, which he had so earnestly asked of Dinah, and he would. As he came to this resolution, he turned about and began to retrace his steps towards the house. To his surprise and pleasure, upon turning around a thicket, he came suddenly upon Elsie herself, seated upon a bench under a tree, bending over her little Bible, which lay open on her lap, and upon which her quiet tears were dropping one by one. She did not seem aware of his presence, and yet he stood a moment gazing compassionately upon her, air he spoke. My dear little girl, what is the matter? He asked in a gentle tone, full of sympathy and kindness, seating himself by her side. Elsie started, and raising her head, hastily brushed away her tears. Good evening, sir, she said, blushing painfully. I did not know you were here. You must excuse my seeming intrusion, replied the old gentleman, taking her hand in his. I came upon you unawares, not knowing you were here. But now that we have met, will you not tell me the cause of your grief? Perhaps I may be able to assist you. No, sir, she said, you cannot do anything for me, but I thank you very much for your kindness. I think, said he after a moment's pause, that I know something of your trouble. You have offended your father. Is it not so, my dear? Elsie answered only by her tears, and he went on. Laying his hand upon the Bible, submission to parents, my dear child, he said, you know is enjoined in this blessed book. Children are here commanded to honor and obey their father and mother. It is God's command. And if you love his holy word, you will obey its precepts. Surely your father will forgive and receive you into favor if you show yourself penitent and submissive. I love my papa very, very dearly, replied Elsie, weeping, and I do want to obey him, but he does not love Jesus. And sometimes he bids me break God's commandments and then I cannot obey him. Is that it, my poor child? Said her friend pittingly. Then you are right in not obeying, but be very sure that your father's commands are opposed to those of God before you refuse obedience. And be very careful to obey him in all things in which you can conscientiously do so. I do try, sir, replied Elsie meekly. Then be comforted, my dear little girl. God has surely sent you this trial for some wise and kind purpose, and in his own good time, he will remove it. Only be patient and submissive. He can change your father's heart, and for that you and I will both pray. Elsie looked her thanks as they rose to return to the house, but her heart was too full for speech, and she walked silently along beside her new friend who continued to speak words of comfort and encouragement to her until they reached the door where he bade her goodbye, saying that he was sorry he was not likely to see her again, as he must leave Rosalinds that afternoon, but promising not to forget her in his prayers. When Elsie reached her room, Chloe told her her father had sent word that she was to come to him as soon as she had returned from her walk, and that she would find him in his dressing room. Chloe had taken off the little girl's hat and smoothed her hair ere she delivered the message, and with a beating heart, Elsie proceeded immediately to obey it. In answer to her timid knock, her father himself opened the door. Mammy told me that you wanted me, Papa, she said in a tremulous voice, and looking up timidly into his face. Yes, I sent for you, come in, he replied, and taking her by the hand, he led her forward to the armchair from which she had just risen, where he again seated himself, making her stand before him, very much like a culprit in the presence of her judge. There was a moment's pause in which Elsie stood with her head bent down and her eyes upon the carpet, trembling with apprehension and not knowing what new trial might be in store for her. Then she ventured to look at her father. His face was sad and distressed, but very stern. Elsie, he began at length, speaking in slow, measured tones. I told you last evening that should you still persist in your resistance to my authority, I should feel compelled to take severe measures with you. I have now decided what those measures are to be. Henceforth, so long as you continue rebellious, you are to be banished entirely from the family circle. Your meals must be taken in your own apartment, and though I shall not reduce your fare to bread and water, it will be very plain, no sweet meats, no luxuries of any kind. I shall also deprive you entirely of pocket money and of all books accepting your Bible and school books, and forbid you either to pay or receive any visits, telling all who inquire for you why you cannot be seen. You are also to understand that I forbid you to enter any apartment in the house, accepting your own and the schoolroom, unless by my express permission. Never go out at all, even to the garden, accepting to take your daily exercise, accompanied always and only by a servant. You are to go on with your studies as usual, but need not expect to be spoken to by anyone but your teacher, as I shall request the others to hold no communication with you. This is your sentence. It goes into effect this very hour, but becomes null and void the moment you come to me with acknowledgments of penitence for the past and promises of implicit obedience for the future. Elsie stood like a statue, her hands clasped and her eyes fixed on the floor. She had grown very pale while her father was speaking, and there was a slight quivering of the eyelids and of the muscles of the mouth, but she showed no other sign of emotion. Did you hear me, Elsie, he said? Yes, Papa, she murmured, in a tone so low it scarcely reached his ear. Well, have you anything to say for yourself before I send you back to your room? He asked in a somewhat softened tone. He felt a little alarmed at the child's unnatural calmness, but it was all gone in a moment. Sinking upon her knees, she burst into a fit of passionate weeping. Oh, Papa, Papa, she sobbed, raising her streaming eyes to his face. Well, you never, never love me anymore. Must I never come near you or speak to you again? He was much moved. I did not say that, Elsie, he replied. I hope most sincerely that you will come to me before long, with the confessions and promises I require, and then as I have told you so often, I will take you to my heart again, as fully as ever. Will you not do it at once and spare me the painful necessity of putting my sentence into execution? He asked, raising her gently and drawing her to his side. Dear Papa, you know I cannot, she sobbed. Then return it once to your room. My sentence must be enforced, though it break both your heart and mine, for I will be obeyed. Go, he said, strongly putting her from him. And weaving and sobbing, feeling like a homeless, friendless outcast from society, Elsie went back to her room. The next two or three weeks were very sad and dreary ones to the poor little girl. Her father's sentence was rigidly enforced. She scarcely ever saw him, accepting it at a distance. And when once or twice he passed her in going in or out, he neither looked at nor spoke to her. Miss Day treated her with all form of severity and injustice, and no one else but the servants ever addressed her. She went out every day for an hour or two, and obedience to her father's command. But her walks and rides were sad and lonely. And during the rest of the day, she felt like a prisoner, where she'd dare not venture even into the garden, where she had always been in the habit of passing the greater part of her leisure hours in the summer season. But depart from all other pleasures, Elsie read her Bible more and more constantly, and with ever increasing delight, it was more than meat and drink to her. She found there a consolation under every affliction, a solace for every sorrow. Her trial was a heavy one. Her little heart often ached sadly with its intense longing for an earthly father's love and favor. Yet in the midst of it all, she was conscious of a deep, abiding peace, flowing from a sweet sense of pardon and sin, in the consciousness of a savior's love. At first, Elsie feared greatly that she would not be allowed to attend church, as usual, on the Sabbath. But Mr. Jinsmore did not care to excite too much remark. And so, as Elsie had always been very regular in her attendance, to her great joy, she was still permitted to go. No one spoke to her, however, or seemed to take the least notice of her. But she sat by her father's side, as usual, both in the carriage and in the pew. And there was some pleasure even in that, though she scarcely dared even to lift her eyes to his face. Once during the sermon, on the third Sabbath, after their last interview, she ventured to do so, and was so overcome by the sight of his pale, haggard looks that utterly unable to control her emotion, she burst into tears and almost sobbed aloud. Elsie, he said, bending down and speaking in a stern whisper, you must control yourself. And with a mighty effort, she swallowed down her tears and sobs. He took no further notice of her until they were again at their own door. When lifting her from the carriage, he took her by the hand and led her to his own room. Shutting the door, he said sternly, Elsie, what did you mean by behaving so in church? I was ashamed of you. Could not help it, Papa. Indeed, I could not, replied the little girl, again bursting into tears. What were you crying about? Tell me at once, he said, sitting down and taking off her bonnet while she stood trembling before him. Oh, Papa, dear, dear Papa, she cried suddenly throwing her arms around his neck and laying her cheek to his. I love you so much that when I looked at you and saw how pale and thin you were, couldn't help crying. I do not understand nor want such love, Elsie, he said gravely, putting her from him. It is not the right kind or it would lead you to be docile and obedient. You certainly deserve punishment for your behavior this morning and I am much inclined to say that you shall not go to church again for some time. Please, Papa, don't say that, she replied tearfully. I will try never to do so again. Well, he replied after a moment's reflection. I shall punish you today by depriving you of your dinner and if you repeat the offense, I shall whip you. Elsie's little face flushed crimson. I know it is an ignominious punishment, Elsie, said her father and I feel very loath to try it with you but I greatly fear I shall be compelled to do so before I can subdue your rebellious spirit. You will be the very last resort, however. Go now to your room. This last threat might almost be said to have given Elsie a new dread. For though his words on several former occasions had seemed to imply something of the sort, she had always put away the thought as that of something too dreadful to happen. But now he had spoken plainly and the trial to her seemed inevitable for she could never give the required promise and she knew, too, that he prided himself on keeping his word to the very letter. Poor little girl, she felt very much like a martyr in prospect of torture or the stake. For a time she was in deep distress but she carried this trouble like all the rest to her savior and found relief, many precious, comforting texts being brought to her mind. The king's heart is in the hand of the Lord as the rivers of water. He turneth it wither so ever he will. My grace is sufficient for thee. As thy days, so shall I strength be. These and others of alike import came to her remembrance in this hour of fear and dread and assured her that her Heavenly Father would either save her from that trial or give her strength to endure it and she grew calm and peaceful again. The name of the Lord is a strong tower. The righteous runeth into it and is safe. End of chapter 6 part 2. Section 10, chapter 7 of Holidays at Roselands. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Ted Nugent, Holidays at Roselands by Martha Finley, chapter 7. Alone, alone, how dear it is always to be alone, will is. It was only a few days after Adelaide had suggested to her brother the propriety of separating Elsie from her nurse that he had the offer of a very fine estate in the immediate neighborhood of his father's plantation. Mr. Grenville, the present owner, was about to move into a distant part of the country and having become somewhat reduced in circumstances was anxious to sell and as the plus suited Mr. Dins more exactly, they were not long in coming to an arrangement. Sasti factory to both by which it passed into his hands. Horace Dinsmore had inherited a large fortune from his mother and having plenty of money at his command, he immediately set about making sundry improvements upon his new purchase laying out the grounds, repairing and enlarging the already fine old mansion, adding all the modern conveniences and furnishing it in the most tasteful and elegant style. And so Rumul with her thousand tongs soon had it noise to board that he was about to bring home a second wife. And to that cause many attributed to Elsie's pale and daunted looks such however was not Mr. Dinsmore's intention. I must have a housekeeper. He said to Adelaide, I shall send Chloe there. She will do very well for the present and it won't give me the opportunity or desire of separating her from Elsie. Why, in the meantime, I can be looking out for a better. But you're not going to leave this yourself, Horace, said his sister inquiringly. Not immediately Adelaide. I intend to end this controversy with Elsie first and I indulge the hope that the prospect of sharing such a home with me as soon as she submits won't go far to which subduing her. Mr. Dinsmore's rank from the thought of Elsie's grief it forced to part from her nose but she was not demand to let his own feelings or those of others prevent him from carrying out any purpose he had formed. If, as in this case, he could persuade himself that he was doing right and so all his arrangements now being made the very morning after his late interview with Elsie Chloe was summoned to his presence. He informed her of his purchase and that it was his intention to send her there to take charge of his house and servants for the present. Chloe, who was both extremely surprised and highly flattered by this proof of her young master's confidence looked very much delighted as with a low courtesy she expressed her thanks and willingness to undertake the charge but the sudden thought struck her and she asked anxiously if her joint was to go with her. Mr. Dinsmore said no very desindedly and when Chloe told him that that being the case she would much rather stay where she was if he would let her. He said she could not have any choice in the matter she must go and Elsie must stay. Chloe burst into an agony of tears and sobs begging to know why she was to be separated from the child she had loved and cherished ever since her birth. The child committed to her charge by her dying mother. What had she done to so displeased her master that he had determined to subject her to such a bitter trial? Mr. Dinsmore was a good deal moved by her grif but still not to be turned from his purpose. He merely waited until she had grown somewhat calmer and then in a tone of great kindness but with much firmness and decision replied that he was not angry with her that he knew that she was very faithful in her kind care of his wife and child and he should always take care of her and see that he was made comfortable as long as she lived. But for reasons which he did not think necessary to explain he considered it best to separate her from Elsie for a time. He knew it would be hard for them both but it must be done and tears and entreaties would be utterly useless. She must prepare to go to her new home that very afternoon. So saying he dismissed her and she went back to Elsie's room well-nigh heart broken and there the little girl found her when she came in from school duties. Sitting beside the trunk she had just finished packing crying and sobbing as she had never seen her before. Oh mommy, mommy, what is the matter? Dear old mommy, what Elsie? She asked, running to her and throwing her arms around her neck. Chloe clasped her to her breast sobbing out that she must leave her. Mother Horace was going to send her away from her precious child. Elsie was fairly stunned by the announcement and for the moment could not speak one word. To be separated from her beloved nurse who had always taken care of her who seemed almost necessary to her existence it was such a calamity as even her worst fears had never suggested for there never had been parted even for a single day. But wherever the little girl went if to stay more than a few hours her faithful attendant had always accompanied her and she had never thought of the possibility of doing without her. She unclasped her arms from Chloe's neck disengaging herself from her loving grasp stood for a moment motionless and silent. Then suddenly sinking down upon her nurse's lap again wound her arms around her neck and hit her face on her bosom sobbing widely. Oh mommy, mommy, you shall not go. Stay with me, mommy. I've nobody to love me now but you and my heart will break if you leave me. Oh mommy, say that you want to go. Chloe could not speak but she took the little form again in her arms and pressed it to her bosom in her clothes and fond embrace why they mingled their tears and sobs together. But Elsie started up suddenly. I'll go to papa, she exclaimed. I will beg him on my knees to let you stay. I will tell him it will kill me to be parted from my dear old mommy. Tell no use, darling. My son Horace, he say I must go and you know what that means well as I do, said Chloe shaking her head monthly. He won't let me stay, no how. But I must try, mommy, Elsie answered moving toward the door. I think papa loves me a little bit and maybe he will listen. But she met the servant in the hall who told her that her father had gone out and that she heard him say he would not return before tea time. And Chloe was to go directly after dinner so there was no hope of a reprieve. Nothing to do but submit as best they might to the sad necessity of parting and Elsie went back to her room again to spend the little time that we made in her nurse's arms sobbing out her bitter griff upon her breast. It was indeed a hard, hard trial to them both yet neither uttered one angry or complaining word against Mr. Dinsmore. Fanny, one of the mates brought up Elsie's dinner but she could not eat. Chloe's appetite too had failed entirely so they remained locked in each other's embrace until Jim came to the door to tell Chloe the carriage was waiting which was to convey her to her new home. Once more she strange her nestling to her breast sobbing out the words goodbye darling the good Lord bless and keep you forever and never and never leave you alone. Oh mommy, mommy, don't leave me. Almost rick the chimes clinging to her with the convulsive grasp. Don't now darling, don't go for to break this old heart. You know I must go, said Chloe gently disengaging herself. We last the Lord to bring us together again soon be a child and I think he will for long. She whispered in Elsie's ear and with another fond caress she left her own round in tears and half fainting with grief. An hour might have passed it seemed longer than that to Elsie when the door opened and she started up from the sofa where she had flung herself in the first debauntment of her sorrow. But it was only Fanny came to tell her that Jim had brought her horse to the door and to prepare her for her ride. She quietly submitted to be engrossed but ah how strange it seemed to have any other than Chloe's hands busy about her. It swelled her young heart well-nigh to bursting though Fanny who evidently understood her business well was very kind and attentive full of unobtrusive sympathy and love for her young judge. The brisk ride in the fresh hair did Elsie good and she returned quite calm and composed though still very sad. Fanny was in waiting to arrange her dress again and when that was done went down to bring up her supper. It was more tempting than usual but Elsie turned from it with loathing. Do Miss Elsie please do try to eat a little urged Fanny with tears in her eyes. What will Master Horace say if he accesses me about your eating and I'm not lies to tell him you didn't eat never a mouthful of dinner and likewise not the first crumb of your supper. That as Fanny well knew was a powerful argument with Elsie who writing nothing so much as her father's displeasure which was sure to be excited by such a report of her conduct sat down at once and did her best to make a substantial meal. Fanny was not more than half satisfied with the result of her effort but seeing it was useless to press her any further silently cleared away the D-things and carried them downstairs and Elsie was left alone. Alone she looked around upon the familiar furniture with a strange feeling of desolation. A noble power in sense of loneliness came over her. She missed the D-face and had been familiar to her from her earliest infancy and had ever looked so lovingly upon her the kind arms want to fold her in a fond embrace to that heart ever beating with such true unalterable affection for her that breast where she might ever lean her aching head and pour out all her sorrows and the cure of sympathy and comfort. She could not stay there but passing quickly out on the balcony upon which the windows of her room opened she stood leaning against the railing her head resting upon the top of it and the silent tears dropping one by one upon the floor Oh mommy, mommy! she murmured half aloud Why did you leave your poor heart broken child? How can I live without you without anyone to love me? Elsie said Mr. Dinsmore's voice close at her signs I suppose you think me a very cruel father thus to separate you from your nurse is it not so? Papa, dear Papa, don't say that she cried with a burst of sobs and tears as she turned hastily round and taking his hands in both of hers looking up pleadingly into his face I know you have a right to do it Papa I know I belong to you and you have the right to do as it will with me and I will try to submit without murmuring but I cannot help feeling sad and shredding some tears I'm not blaming you for crying now it is quite excusable under the circumstances he replied in a slightly softened tone adding I take no pleasure in cursing you sorrow, Elsie and though I have sent away your nurse I have provided you with another servant who will, I think, be respectful and kind and attentive to all your wishes if she is not you have only to complain to me and she shall be at once removed and her place sublime by another and I have good reasons for what I am doing you have resisted my authority for a long time now I must try the effect of pressing you under new influences I fear Chloe has, at least tactically encouraged you in your rebellion and therefore I intend to keep you apart until you have learned to be submissive and obedient Dear Papa, reprimed a little girl meekly you wrong poor mommy if you think she would ever uphold me in disobedience to you for on the contrary she had always told me that I ought on all occasions to yield a ready and cheerful obedience to every command or even wish of yours unless it was contrary to the word of God there, that is just it said he, interrupting her with a frown she and Mrs. Marie have brought you up to believe that you and they are wiser and more capable of interpreting the Bible and deciding questions of right and wrong than your father and that is precisely the notion that I am determined to get out of your head she opened her lips to rubri but beating herself be silent he turned to leave her but she clung to him looking besettingly up into his face well, he said what is it? what do you want? she struggled for utterance oh Papa she sobbed I feel so sad and lonely tonight will you not sit down a little while and take me on your knee my heart aches so to lay my head against you just for a moment oh Papa, dear Papa will you not let me will you not kiss me once just once you know I am all alone all alone he could not resist her bleeding lips and piteous accents a tear trembled in his eye and hastily sitting himself he drew her to his knee folded her for an instant in his arms laid her head against his breast kissed her lips her brow her cheek and then putting her from him without speaking a word walked quickly away Alice stood for a moment where he had left her then sinking on her knees before the sofa once he had just risen she laid her head down upon it whipping and sobbing most bitterly oh Papa Papa oh mommy mommy dear mommy dear dear mommy you are all gone all gone and I am alone alone all alone nobody to love me nobody to speak to me oh mommy oh Papa come back come back to me to your poor little Elsie for my heart is breaking alas that caress so earnestly pleaded for had only by contrast increased her sense of loneliness and desolation but in the midst of her bitter grief a loving, gentle voice came to her ear whispering in sweetest tones I will never leave thee nor forsake thee when thy father and thy mother forsake thee why the Lord won't take thee up I will deliver thee in six troubles yeah in seven there shall no evil touch thee and the sobs were hushed and the tears flowed more quietly until at length they ceased altogether and the little sorrowing one fell asleep as one whom his mother comforts I will comfort you and yeah shall be comforted end of