 CHAPTER XII. She had waited for their coming, she had kissed them, oar and oar, and they were so fondly treasured for the words of love they bore. Just as they whispered in the silence, she had listened till his tone seemed to linger in the echo, darling, thou art all my own. Mrs. J.C. Anil. Pray, what weighty matter is troubling your young brain, Bertie, asked Adelaide, laughingly laying her head on Elsie's shoulder. Judging from the exceeding gravity of your countenance, one might imagine that the affairs of the nation have been committed to your care. Oh, Auntie, can't you help me? Won't you? answered the little girl, looking up coaxingly into the bright, cheerful face bent over her. Help you in what? Reading with your book upside down, eh? asked Adelaide, pointing with a quizzical look at the volume of fairy tales in her little niece's lap. Oh! cried Elsie, coloring and laughing in her turn. I was not reading, and did not know that my book was wrongside up, but not Adelaide. You know Christmas is coming soon, and I want to give Papa something, and I'm quite puzzled about it. I thought of slippers, but he has a very handsome pair, and besides there would hardly be time to work them, as I have so many lessons. A purse won't do either, because I have given him one already, and I would like it to be something worth more than either slippers or purse. But you are so much wiser than I, can't you help me think? So this is what has kept you so quiet and demure all day that I have scarcely once heard you laugh or sing. Quite an unusual state of things of late, and Adelaide playfully pinched the round rosy cheek. Ahem! let me put on my thinking cap, assuming an air of comet gravity. Ah, yes, I have it. Your miniature little one, of course. What could please him better? Oh, yes, cried Elsie, clapping her hands. That will do nicely. Why didn't I think of it? Thank you, auntie. But then she added her countenance fallen. How can I get it taken without his knowledge? You know the surprise is half the fun. Never mind, my dear. I'll find a way to manage that, replied Adelaide confidently. So just run away with you now, and see how much money you can scrape together to spend on it. It won't take long to count it, Elsie said with a merry laugh. But here is Papa just coming in at the door. I hope you won't suspect what we have been talking about. And she bounded away to meet him and claimed the kiss he never refused her now. Once Adelaide would not have been surprised at Elsie's quietness. Patient and sweet-tempered the little girl had always been, but more especially after her father's return from Europe. Very quiet and timid, seeming to shrink from observation with a constant dread of incurring reproof or punishment. But the last few happy months, during which her father had continued to lavish upon her every proof of the tenderest affection, had wrought a great change in her. Her manner had lost its timidity. She moved about the house with a light and joyous step, and it was no unusual thing to hear her merry, silvery laugh ring out, or her sweet voice caroling like some wild bird of the wood, the natural outgushings of her joy and thankfulness, for the little heart that had so long been famishing for love, that had often grown so weary and sick in its hungering and thirsting for it, was now fully satisfied and reveled in its newfound happiness. I have gutted all arranged nicely, Elsie, Adelaide said, coming into the room with a very pleased face, as the little girl was preparing for bed that evening. Your papa is going away in a day or two to attend some business matters connected with your property, and he will be absent at least two weeks. So unless he should take it into his head to carry you alone, we can easily manage about the picture. Elsie looked up with a countenance of blank dismay. Why, said Adelaide, laughing, I thought you'd be delighted with my news, and instead of that, you'd look as if I had read you your death warrant. Oh, Aunt Adelaide, two whole weeks without seeing papa? Just think how long. Poo, nonsense child, it will be gone before you know it. But now tell me, how much money have you? I have saved my allowance for two months. That makes twenty dollars, you know, Auntie, and I have a little change besides. Do you think it will be enough? Hardly, I'm afraid, but I can lend you some if necessary. Thank you, Auntie, Elsie answered gratefully. You are very kind, but I couldn't take it because papa has told me expressly that I must never borrow money, nor run into debt in any way. Dear me, exclaimed Adelaide, a little impatiently, Horace certainly is the most absurdly strict person I ever met with. But never mind, I think we can manage it somehow, she added, in a livelier tone, as she stooped to kiss her little niece good night. Elsie's gentle rap was heard very early at her papa's door the next morning. He opened it immediately, and springing into his arms she asked almost tearfully, Are you going away, papa? Yes, darling, he said, caressing her fondly. I must leave home for a few weeks, and though I thought at first of taking you with me, upon further consideration I have decided that it will be better to leave you here. And if you desire it very much, my pet, I will take you along, shall I? You know I would always rather be with you than anywhere else, papa, she answered laying her head on his shoulder. But you know best, and I am quite willing to do whatever you say. That is right, daughter, my little Elsie is a good, obedient child, he said, pressing her closer to him. When are you going, papa? She asked, her voice trembling a little. Directly after dinner, daughter. So soon, she sighed. The sooner I leave you, the sooner I shall return, you know, darling? He said, patting her cheek and smiling kindly on her. Yes, papa, but two weeks seems such a long, long time. He smiled. At your age, I suppose it does. But when you are as old as I am, you will think it very short. But to make it pass more quickly, you may write me a letter every day, and I will send you one just as often. Well, thank you, papa, that will be so pleasant, she answered with a brightening countenance. I do so love to get letters, and I would rather have one from you than from anybody else. Ah, then I think you ought to be willing to spare me for two weeks. I have been thinking my little girl might perhaps be glad of a little extra pocket money for buying Christmas gifts. He said, taking out his purse, would you? Yes, papa, oh, very much indeed. He laughed at her eager tone, and putting a $50 note into her hand asked, will that be enough? Elsie's eyes opened wide with astonishment. I never before had half so much as this, she exclaimed. May I spend it all, papa? Provided you don't throw it away, he answered gravely. But don't forget that I require a strict account of all your expenditure. Must I tell you everything I buy? She asked her countenance falling considerably. Yes, my child, you must. Not until after Christmas, however, if you would rather not. I will not mind it so much then, she answered, looking quite relieved. But indeed, papa, it is a great deal of trouble. Ah, my little girl must not be lazy, he said, shaking his head gravely. This was Elsie's first parting from her father since they had learned to know and love each other. And when the time came to say goodbye, she clung to him and seemed so loath to let him go that he quite repented of his determination to leave her at home. Oh, papa, papa, I cannot bear to have you go and leave me behind, she sobbed. I feel as if you were never coming back. Why, my own darling, he said, kissing her again and again. Why do you talk so? I shall certainly be at home again in a fortnight. But if I had thought you would feel so badly, I would have made arrangements to take you with me. It is too late now, however, and you must let me go, dearest. Be a good girl while I am gone. And when I return, I will bring you some handsome presents. So saying, he embraced her once more, then putting her gently from him, sprang into the carriage and was driven rapidly away. Elsie stood watching until it was out of sight and then ran away to her own room to put her arms around her nurse's neck and hide her tears on her bosom. Dear, dear, darling, that will do now. Master Horace, he be back for a long. An old Chloe don't like for to see her child stress on herself so, and the large dusky hand was passed lovingly over the bright curls and tenderly wiped away the falling tears. But, oh, Mammy, I'm afraid he will never come back. I'm afraid the steamboat boiler will burst or the cars will run off the track or hush, hush, darling. That's wicked. You must just trust the Lord to take care of Master Horace. He's just as able to do it in one place as in the other. And if you and your old Mammy keep praying for Master, I'm sure he'll come back safe, in case you don't remember what a good book says if any two of you agree. Oh, yes, dear Mammy, thank you for remembering it, exclaimed the little girl, lifting her head and smiling through her tears. I won't cry anymore now, but we'll just try to keep thinking how glad I will be when Papa comes home again. A very sensible solution, my dear, said Adelaide, putting her head in at the door. So come, dry your eyes and let Mammy put on your bonnet and cloak as fast as possible, for I have begged a holiday for you and I'm going to carry you off to the city to do some shopping, et cetera. Ah, I think I know what the et cetera means, Auntie, don't I? laughed Elsie as she hastened to obey. Dear me, how very wise some people are, said her aunt, smiling and nodding goodnaturally. But make haste, my dear, for the carriages of the door. When Elsie laid her head upon her pillow that night, she acknowledged to herself that in spite of her father's absence, and she had at times missed him sadly, the day had been a very short and pleasant one to her, owing to her aunt Adelaide's thoughtful kindness in taking her out into new scenes and giving agreeable occupation to her thoughts. She rose at her usual early hour the next morning and though feeling lonely, comforted herself with the hope of receiving the promised letter and her face was full of eager expectation as her grandfather in his usual leisurely manner opened the bag and distributed its contents. Two letters for Elsie, he said in a tone of surprise, just as she was beginning to despair of her turn coming at all. Ah, one is from Horace, I see, and the other for Miss Allison, no doubt. Elsie could hardly restrain her eagerness while he held them in his hand, examining and commenting upon the address, postmark, et cetera. But at length, he tossed them to her remarking, there, if you were done with your breakfast, you would better run away and read them. Oh, thank you, Grandpa, she said, gladly availing herself of his permission. Elsie is fortunate today, observed Laura looking after her. I wonder which she will read first. Her father's, of course, replied Adelaide. He is more to her than all the rest of the world put together. A matter of small concern to the rest of the world, I opine, remarked Mrs. Dinsmore dryly. Perhaps so, Mama, said Adelaide quietly. Yet I think there are some who prize Elsie's affection. Yes, Adelaide was right. Miss Rose's letter was neglected and almost forgotten, while Elsie read and reread her papa's with the greatest delight. It gave an amusing account of the day's journey, but what constituted its chief charm for the little girl was that it was filled with expressions of the tenderest affection for her. Then came the pleasant task of answering, which occupied almost all her spare time, for letter writing was still to her a rather new and difficult business, Miss Allison having hitherto been her only correspondent. And this was a pleasure which was renewed every day, for her papa faithfully kept his promise, each morning bringing her a letter, until at length one came announcing the speedy return of the writer. Elsie was almost wild with delight. At Adelaide, she cried running to her to communicate the glad tidings. Papa says he will be here this very afternoon. Well, my dear, as we have already attended to all the business that needed to be kept secret from him, I am very glad to hear it, especially for your sake, replied Adelaide, looking up for a moment from the book she was reading, and then returning to it again, while her little niece danced out of the room, with her papa's letter still in her hand and a face beaming with happiness. She met Mrs. Dinsmore in the hall. Why are you skipping about in that mad fashion, Elsie? She asked severely. I believe you will never learn to move and act like a lady. I will try, madam, indeed, Elsie answered, subsiding into a slow and steady gait which would not have disgraced a woman of any age. But I was so glad that papa is coming home today that I could not help skipping. Indeed, and with a scornful toss of the head, Mrs. Dinsmore sailed past her and entered the drawing room. Elsie had once, on her first arrival at Roseland's, addressed Mrs. Dinsmore in the innocence of her heart as grandma, but that lady's horrified look and indignant repudiation of the ancient title had made a deep impression on the little girl's memory and effectually prevented any repetition of the offense. As the hour drew near when her father might reasonably be expected, Elsie took her station at one of the drawing room windows overlooking the avenue, and the moment the carriage appeared in sight, she ran out and stood waiting for him on the steps of the portico. Mr. Dinsmore put his head out as they drove up the avenue and the first object that caught his eye was the fairy-like form of his little daughter in her blue merino dress and the golden brown curls waving in the wind. He sprang out and caught her in his arms the instant the carriage stopped. My darling, darling child, he cried, kissing her over and over again and pressing her fondly to his heart. How glad I am to have you in my arms again. Papa, papa, my own dear, dear papa, she exclaimed, throwing her arms around his neck. I'm so happy now that you have come home safe and well. Are you, darling? But I must not keep you out in this wind for it is quite chilly. He set her down and leaving the servant to attend to his baggage, led her into the hall. Will you come into the drawing room, papa, she said. There is a bright warm fire there. Is there not one in my dressing room, he asked. Yes, papa, a very good one. Then we will go there. I dare say the rest of the family are in no great hurry to see me, and I want my little girl to myself for half an hour, he said, leading the way upstairs as he spoke. They found, as Elsie had reported, a very bright fire in the dressing room. A large, easy chair was drawn up near it and a handsome dressing gown and slippers were placed ready for use, all the work of Elsie's loving little hands. He saw it all at a glance and with a pleased smile, stooped and kissed her again, saying, my dear little daughter is thoughtful for her papa's comfort. Then, exchanging his warm outdoor peril and heavy boots for the dressing gown and slippers, he seated himself in the chair and took her on his knee. Well, daughter, he said, passing his hand caressingly over her curls. Papa has brought you a present. Will you have it now or shall it be kept for Christmas? Keep it for Christmas, papa, she answered gaily. Christmas is almost here and besides, I don't want to look at anything but you tonight. Very well, look at me as much as you like, was his laughing rejoinder. And now tell me, have you been a good girl in my absence? As good as I ever am, I believe, papa. I tried very hard, but you can ask Miss Day. No, I am entirely satisfied with your report, for I know my little daughter is quite truthful. Elsie colored with pleasure, then calling to mind the time when he had for a moment suspected her of falsehood, she heaved a deep sigh, dropping her head upon his breast. He seemed to understand her thoughts, for pressing his lips into her forehead, he said gently and kindly, I think I shall never again doubt my little daughter's truth. She looked up with a grateful smile. Miss Day has gone away to stay until after New Year's Day, papa, she said, and so our holidays have begun. I am very well satisfied, said he. I think you have earned a holiday and I hope you will enjoy it. But I don't know that I shall let you play all the time, he added with a smile. I have some notion of giving you a lesson now and then myself. Dear papa, how pleasant, she exclaimed delightedly. I do so love to say lessons to you. Well then, we will spend an hour together every morning, but are you not to have some company? Oh yes, papa, quite a houseful, she said with a slight sigh. The purses and the howards and all the caringtons and some others too, I believe. Why do you sigh, daughter, he said. Do you not expect to enjoy their company? Yes, sir, I hope so, she answered rather dubiously. But when there are so many and they stay so long, they are apt to disagree, and that, you know, is not pleasant. I am sure I shall enjoy the hour with you better than anything else. It is so sweet to be quite alone with my own darling papa. And the little arm stole softly round his neck again, and the rosy lips touched his cheek. Well, when are the little plagues coming, he asked, returning her caress. Some of them tomorrow, papa, no, Monday, tomorrow is Sabbath day. Shall I bring into trunks now, Mesa? Answered Mr. Din's more servant, putting his head at the end of the door. Yes, John, certainly. Why, you brought back a new one, papa, didn't you? Asked Elsie. As John carried in one, she was sure she had never seen before, and in obedience to a motion of her father's hand, set it down quite near them. Yes, my dear, it is yours. There, John, unlock it, tossing him the key. And now, daughter, get down and see what you can find in it worth having. Elsie needed no second bidding, but in an instant was on her knees beside the trunk, eager to examine its contents. Take the lid off the band box first and see what is there, said her father. Oh, papa, how very pretty! She cried as she lifted out a beautiful little velvet hat adorned with a couple of ostrich feathers. I am very glad it pleases you, my darling, he said, putting it on her head and gazing at her with proud delight in her rare beauty. There, it fits exactly and is very becoming. Then, taking it off, he returned it to the box and bat her look further. I am reserving the present for Christmas, he said, in answer to her inquiring look. Elsie turned to the trunk again. Dear papa, how good you are to me, she said, looking up at him almost with tears of pleasure in her eyes as she lifted out, one after another, a number of costly toys, which she examined with exclamations of delight. And then several handsome dresses, some of the finest, softest merino and others of thick, rich silk, already made in fashionable style and doing credit to his taste and judgment. And lastly, a beautiful velvet police, trimmed with costly fur, just the thing to wear with her pretty new hat. He laughed and patted her cheek. We must have these dresses tried on, he said, at least one of them, for as they were all cut by the same pattern, one of your old dresses which I took with me, I presume they will all fit alike. There, take this one to Mammy and tell her to put it on you and then come back to me. Oh, I wondered how you could get them the right size, papa. Elsie answered as she skipped galey out of the room. She was back again in a very few moments, arrayed in the pretty silk she had selected. Ah, it seems to be a perfect fit, said he, turning her round and round with a very gratified look. Mammy must dress you tomorrow in one of these new frocks and your pretty hat and police. Elsie looked troubled. Well, what is it? I am afraid I shall be thinking of them in church, papa, if I wear them then for the first time. Poo, nonsense. What harm if you do, this squeamishness, Elsie, is the one thing about you that displeases me very much. But there, don't look so distressed, my pet. I dare say you will get over it by and by and be all I wish. Indeed, I sometimes think you have improved a little already in that respect. Oh, what a pain these words sent to her heart. Was it indeed true that she was losing her tenderness of conscience? That she was becoming less afraid of displeasing and dishonoring her savior than in former days? The very thought was anguish. Her head drooped upon her bosom and the small white hands were clasped convulsively together while a bitter repenting cry, a silent earnest prayer for pardon and help went up to him whose ear is ever open to the cry of his children. Her father looked at her in astonishment. What is it, darling? He asked, drawing her tenderly toward him and pushing back the curls from her face. Why do you look so pained? What did I say that could have hurt you so? I did not mean to be harsh and severe for it was a very trifling fault. She hid her face on his shoulder and burst into an agony of tears. It was not that, Papa, but... But... But what, my darling? Don't be afraid to tell me, he answered soothingly. Oh, Papa, I am afraid I don't love Jesus as much as I did. She faltered out between her sobs. Ah, that is it, eh? Well, well... You needn't cry any more. I think you are a very good little girl, though rather a silly one I am afraid and quite two morbidly conscientious. He took her on his knee as he spoke, wiped away her tears and then began talking in a lively strain of something else. Elsie listened and answered him cheerfully, but all the evening he noticed that whenever she was quiet, an unusual expression of sadness would steal over her face. What a strange child she is, he said to himself as he sat musing over the fire after sending her to bed. I cannot understand her. It is very odd how often I wound when I intend to please her. As for Elsie, she scarcely thought of her new finery. So troubled was her tender conscience. So pained her little heart to think that she had been wandering from her dear savior. But Elsie had learned that if any man's sin we have an advocate with the Father, Jesus Christ the Righteous. And to him she went with her sin and sorrow. She applied anew to the pardoning, peace-speaking blood of Christ, that blood of sprinkling that speaketh better things than that of Abel. And thus, the sting of conscience was taken away and her peace restored. And she was soon resting quietly on her pillow, for so he giveth his beloved sleep. Even her father's keen searching glance when she came to him in the morning could discover no trace of sadness in her face. Very quiet and sober it was, but entirely peaceful and happy. And so it remained all through the day. Her new clothes did not trouble her. She was hardly conscious of wearing them and quite able to give her usual solemn and fixed attention to the services of the sanctuary. Where are you going, daughter? Mr. Dinsmore asked as Elsie gently withdrew her hand from his on leaving the dining room. To my room, Papa, she replied. Come with me, he said, I want you. What do you want me for, Papa? She asked as he sat down and took her on his knee. What for? Why to keep, to love and to look at, he said, laughing. I have been away from my little girl so long that now I want her close by my side or on my knee all the time. Do you not like to be with me? Dearly well, my own darling Papa, she answered flinging her little arms around his neck and laying her head on his breast. He fondled her and chatted with her for some time. Then, still keeping her on his knee, he took up a book and began to read. Elsie saw with pain that it was a novel and longed to beg him to put it away and spend the precious hours of the holy Sabbath in the study of God's word or some of the lesser helps to Zion's pilgrims, which the saints of our own or other ages have prepared. But she knew that it would be quite out of place for a little child like her to attempt to counsel or reprove her father and that tenderly as he loved and cherished her, he would never for one moment allow her to forget their relative positions. At length, she ventured to ask softly, Papa, may I go to my own room now? What for, he asked, are you tired of my company? No, sir, oh, no, but I want... She hesitated and hung her head for an instant while the rich color mounted to cheek and brow. Then, raising it again, she said fearlessly, I always want to spend a little while with my best friend on Sabbath afternoon, Papa. He looked puzzled and also somewhat displeased. I don't understand you, Elsie, he said. You surely can have no better friend than your own father and can it be possible that you love anyone else better than you love me? Again, the little arms were round his neck and hugging him close and closer, she whispered. It was Jesus, I meant, Papa. You know he loves me even better than you do and I must love him best of all. But there is no one else that I love half so much as I love you, my own dear, dear, precious father. Well, you may go, but only for a little while, mind. He answered, giving her a kiss and setting her down. Nay, he said hastily, stay as long as you like. If you feel at a punishment to be kept here with me, I would rather do without you. Oh, no, no, Papa, she said beseechingly. I'm with tears in her eyes. I do so love to be with you. Please don't be angry. Please let me come back soon. No, darling, I am not angry, he answered, smoothing her hair and smiling kindly on her. Come back just when you like and the sooner the better. Elsie did not stay away very long unless that an hour she returned, bringing her Bible and Pilgrim's progress with her. Her father welcomed her with a smile and then turned to his novel again. While she drew a stool to his side and sitting down, leaned her head against his knee and read until the short winter day began to close in and Mr. Dinsmore, whose hand had been every now and then laid caressingly upon her curls, said, put away your book now, daughter. It is growing too dark for you to read without straining your eyes. Please, Papa, let me finish the paragraph first, may I? She asked, no, you must always obey the instant I speak to you. Elsie rose at once and without another word laid her books upon the table. Then coming back, claimed her a custom place upon his knee with her head resting on his shoulder. He put his arm around her and they sat silently thus for some moments. At length Elsie asked, Papa, did you ever read Pilgrim's progress? Yes, a good while ago when I was quite a boy. And you did not like it, Papa? Yes, very much, though I have nearly forgotten the story now. Do you like it? Very much indeed, Papa. I think it comes next to the Bible. Next to the Bible, eh? Well, I believe you are the only little girl of my acquaintance who thinks that the most beautiful and interesting book in the world. But let me see, what is this Pilgrim's progress about? Some foolish story of a man with a great load on his back, is it not? Foolish, Papa, oh. I am sure you don't mean it, you couldn't think it foolish. I know by your smile that you are only saying it to tease me. It is a beautiful story, Papa, about Christian, how he lived in the city of destruction and had a great burden on his back, which he tried in every way to get rid of, but all in vain until he came to the cross. But then it seemed suddenly to loosen of itself and dropped from his back and rolled away and fell into the sepulcher where it could not be seen any more. Well, and is not that a foolish story? Can you see any sense or meaning in it? He asked with a slight smile and a keen glance into the eager little face upturned to his. Oh, Papa, I know what it means, she answered in a half sorrowful tone. Christian, with the load on his back, is a person who has been convinced of sin by God's holy spirit and feels his sins a heavy burden, too heavy for him to bear. And then he tries to get rid of them by leaving off his wicked ways and by doing good deeds. But he soon finds he can't get rid of his load that way for it only grows heavier and heavier until at last he gives up trying to save himself and just goes to the cross of Jesus Christ and the moment he looks to Jesus and trusts in him, his load of sin is all gone. Mr. Dinsmore was surprised as indeed he had often been at Elsie's knowledge of spiritual things. Who told you all that? He asked. I read it in the Bible, Papa. And besides, I know because I have felt it. He did not speak again for some moments and then he said very gravely, I'm afraid you read too many of those dull books. I don't want you to read things that fill you with sad and gloomy thoughts and make you unhappy. I want my little girl to be merry and happy as the day is long. Please don't forbid me to read them, Papa. She pleaded with a look of apprehension. For indeed they don't make me unhappy and I love them so dearly. You need not be alarmed. I shall not do so unless I see that they do affect your spirits. He answered in a reassuring tone and she thanked him with her own bright sweet smile. She was silent for a moment then asked suddenly, Papa, may I say some verses to you? Sometime he said, but not now, for there is the T-bell. And taking her hand he let her down to the dining room. They went to the drawing room after tea but did not stay long. There were no visitors and it was very dull and quiet there. No one seemed inclined for conversation. Old Mr. Dinsmore sat nodding in his chair. Louise was drumming on the piano and the rest were reading or sitting listlessly saying nothing. And Elsie and her Papa soon slipped away to their old seat by his dressing room fire. Sing something for me, my pet. Some of those little hymns I often hear you singing to yourself, he said, as he took her on his knee and Elsie glidly obeyed. Some of the pieces she sang alone but in others which were familiar to him, her father joined his deep bass notes to her sweet travel at which she was greatly delighted. Then they read several chapters of the Bible together and thus the evening passed so quickly and pleasantly that she was very much surprised when her Papa, taking out his watch, told her it was her bedtime. Oh, Papa, it has been such a nice, nice evening, she said as she bade him good night. So like the dear old times I used to have with Miss Rose only, she paused and colored deeply. Only what, darling? He asked, drawing her caressingly to him. Only Papa, if you would pray with me like she did. She whispered, winding her arms about his neck and hiding her face on his shoulder. That I cannot do, my pet. I have never learned how. And so I fear you will have to do all the praying for yourself and me, too. He said with a vain effort to speak lightly for both heart and conscience were touched. The only reply was a tightening of the clasp of the little arms about his neck and a half-suppressed sob. Then two trembling lips touched his, a warm tear fell on his cheek and she turned away and ran quickly from the room. Oh, how earnest and important it were Elsie's pleadings at a throne of grace that night that her dear, dear Papa might soon be taught to love Jesus and how to pray to him. Tears fell fast while she prayed, but she rose from her knees feeling a joyful assurance that her petitions had been heard and would be granted in God's own good time. She had hardly laid her head upon her pillow when her father came in and saying, I have come to sit beside my little girl till she falls asleep. Placed himself in a chair close by her side taking her hand in his and holding it as she loved so to have him do. I am so glad you have come, Papa, she said, her whole face lighting up with pleased surprise. Are you, he answered with a smile. I'm afraid I am spoiling you, but I can't help it tonight. I think you forget your wish to repeat some verses to me. Oh, yes, Papa, she said, but may I say them now? He nodded ascent and she went on. There are some Miss Rose sent me in one of her letters. She cut them out of a newspaper, she said, and sent them to me because she liked them so much, and I too think they are very sweet. The piece is headed, the pilgrims wants. I want a sweet sense of thy pardoning love that my manifold sins are forgiven, that Christ as my advocate pleaded the above that my name is recorded in heaven. I want every moment to feel that thy spirit resides in my heart, that his power is present to cleanse and to heal and newness of life to impart. I want, oh, I want to attain some likeness my savior to thee, that longed for resemblance once more to regain thy combliness put upon me. I want to be marked for thine own, thy seal on my forehead to wear, to receive that new name on the mystic white stone which none but thyself can declare. I want so in thee to abide as to bring forth some fruit to thy praise, the branch which thou prunus, though feeble and dried, may languish but never decays. I want thine own hand to unbind each tie to duress real things, too tenderly cherished, too closely entwined where my heart so tenaciously clings. I want by my aspect serene, my actions and words to declare that my treasure is placed in a country unseen, that my heart's best affections are there. I want as a traveler to haste straight onward nor pause on my way, nor forethought in anxious contrivance to waste on the tent-only pitch for a day. I want, and this sums up my prayer, to glorify thee till I die, then calmly to yield at my soul to thy care and breathe out in faith my last sigh. Footnote, these beautiful words are not mine, nor do I know either the name of the author or where they were originally published. He was silent for a moment after she had repeated the last verse. Then laying his hand softly on her head and looking searchingly into her eyes, he asked. And does my little one really wish all that those words express? Yes, Papa, for myself and for you, too, she answered. Oh, Papa, I do want to be all that Jesus would have me, just like him, so like him that everybody who knows me will see the likeness and know that I belong to him. Nay, you belong to me, he said, leaning over her and patting her cheek. Hush, not a syllable from your lips, I will have no gain-saying of my words, he added, with a mixture of authority and playfulness, as she seemed about to reply. Now shut your eyes and go to sleep. I will have no more talking tonight. She obeyed at once. The white lids gently closed over the sweet eyes. The long dark lashes rested quietly on the fair, round cheek, and soon her soft, regular breathing told her that she had passed into the land of dreams. Her father sat, still holding the little hand, and still gazing tenderly upon the sweet young face, till something, in its expression, reminding him of words she had just repeated, I want to be marked for thine own, thy seal on my forehead to wear. He laid it gently down, rose, and bent over her with a troubled look. Ah, my darling, that prayer is all granted already, he murmured, for, ah, me, you seem almost too good and pure for earth, but, oh, God forbid that you should be taken from me to that place where I can see that your heart is, even now, how desolate I should be. And he turned away with a shiver and a heavy sigh, and hastily quitted the room. End of Chapter 12. Read by Kalinda in Lüneburg, Germany, on February 15th, 2009. Chapter 13th of Elsie Dinsmore. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Elsie Dinsmore by Martha Finley. Chapter 13th. An angel face, its sunny wealth of hair, in radiant ripples bathed the graceful throat and dimpled shoulders. Mrs. Osgood. The cold gray light of a winter morning stole in through the half-closed blinds as Elsie awoke. She started up in bed with the thought that this was the day in which several of her young guests were expected, and that her papa had promised her a walk with him before breakfast, if she were ready on time. Aunt Chloe had already risen, with a bright fire, blazing and crackling on the earth, which she was carefully sweeping up. Good morning, Mammy, said the little girl. Are you ready to dress me now? What? You wake, darling, cried the fond old creature, turning quickly round at the sound of her nurseling's voice. Better lie still, honey, till the room gets warm. I'll wait a little while, Mammy, Elsie said, lying down again, but I must get up soon, for I wouldn't miss my walk with papa for a great deal. Please throw the shutters wide open and let the daylight in. I'm so glad it has come. Why, my breasted lamb, you didn't lie awake looking for the morning, did you? You weren't signal-suffering anyway, exclaimed Chloe, in a tone of mingled concern and inquiry, as she hastily set down her broom and came towards the bed with a look of loving anxiety on her dark face. Oh, no, Mammy, I slept nicely, and I feel as well as can be, replied the little girl. But I'm glad to see this new day, because I hope it's going to be a very happy one. Carrie, Howard, and a good many of my little friends are coming, you know, and I think we'll have a very pleasant time together. Your old Mammy hopes you will, darling, replied Chloe heartily, and I was glad enough to see you looking so bright and well that just you lie still till it gets warm here. I'll open the shutters and fetch some more wood for the fire and clear up the room, and by that time I reckon you can get up. Elsie waited patiently till Chloe pronounced the room warm enough. Then she sprang up with an eager haste, asking to be dressed as quickly as possible, that she might go to her papa. Don't you go for to worry yourself, darling? There's plenty of time, said Chloe, beginning her work with all speed, however. The mistress have ordered to breakfast at nine these holiday times to let the ladies and gentlemen take a morning nap if they's likes it. Oh, yes, Mammy. And that reminds me that papa said I must eat a cracker or something before I take my walk because he thinks it isn't good for people to exercise much on an entirely empty stomach, said Elsie. Will you get me one when you have done my curls? Yes, honey. There's a paper fall in the drawer under, replied Chloe, and I reckon you better eat two or three or you'll be mighty hungry before you get your breakfast. It still wanted a few minutes of eight o'clock when Elsie's gentle rap was heard at her papa's dressing room door. He opened it and, stooping to give her a good morning kiss, said, with a pleased smile, how bright and well my darling looks. Had you a good night's rest? Oh, yes, papa. I never woke once till it began to be light, she replied, and now I'm all ready for our walk. In good season two, he said, well, we will start presently, but take off your hat and come and sit on my knee a little while first. Breakfast will be late this morning and we need not hurry. Did you get something to eat? He asked, as he seated himself by the fire and drew her to his side. Yes, papa, I ate a cracker and I think it will not get very hungry before nine o'clock, and I'm very glad we have so much time for our walk, she replied, as she took her place on his knees. Shall we not start soon? Presently, he said, stroking her hair, but it will not hurt you to get well-warmed first for it's a sharp morning. You are very careful of me, dear papa, she said, laying her head on his chest, and I would be so nice to have a papa to love me and take care of me. And it is so nice to have a dear little daughter to love and to take care of, he answered, pressing her closer to him. The house was still very quiet, no one seeming to be disturbed at the servants, as Mr. Dinsmore and Elsie went down the stairs and passed out through the hall. Oh, papa, it's going to be such a nice day and I feel so happy, Elsie exclaimed gaily, as they started down the avenue. Do you, daughter, he said, regarding her with an expression of intense yearning affection? I wish I could make you always as merry and happy as you are this moment, but alas, it cannot be, my darling, he added, with a sigh. I know that, papa, she said, with sudden gravity, for man that is born of woman is a few days and full of trouble, the Bible says. But I don't feel frightened at that because it tells me, besides, that Jesus loves me, oh, so dearly, and will never leave or forsake me, and that he has all power in heaven and earth, and will never let anything happen to me but what shall do me good. Oh, papa, it is such a happy thing to have a dear Lord Jesus as your friend. It is stranger everything seems to lead your thoughts to him, he said, giving her a wondering look. Yes, papa, it is because I love him, so she answered simply. And the farther side is the thought arose, better than she loves me, even as she told me herself. Ah, I would, I could be all, everything to her as she is fast becoming to me. I cannot feel satisfied, and yet I believe few daughters love their fathers as well as she loves me. And fondly pressing the little hand he held, he looked down upon her with beaming eyes. She raised hers to his face with an expression of confiding affection, and as though she had read his thoughts, yes, papa, she said, I love you dearly, dearly too, better than all the world besides. Breakfast, always a plentiful and inviting meal at Rosalind's, was already upon the table when they returned, and they brought to it appetite sufficiently keen to make it very enjoyable. Elsie spent the first hour after breakfast at the piano practicing, and the second in her papa's dressing room, studying and reciting to him. Then they took a long ride on horseback, and when they returned, she found that quite a number of the expected guests had already arrived. Among them was Caroline Howard, her favourite friend of Elsie's, a pretty sweet-tempered little girl about a year older than herself. Caroline had been away paying a long visit to some friends in the North, and so the two little girls had not met for nearly a year, and of course they had a great deal to say to each other. They chatted a few moments in the drawing room, and then Elsie carried her friend off with her to her own room that they might go on with their talk while she was getting dressed for dinner. Caroline had much to tell her of her northern relatives, and of all she had seen and heard, and Elsie of her newfound parent and her happiness in being so loved and cared for, and so the little tongues ran very fast, neither of them feeling Chloe's presence any restraint. But she soon completed her task and went out, leaving the two sitting on the sofa together, laughing and talking merrily while awaiting the summons to dinner, which they were to take along with their elders. How pretty your hair is, Elsie, said Caroline, winding the glossy ringlets around her finger. I wish she'd give me one of those curls. I want to get a bracelet made for Mama, and she thinks so much of you, and your hair is such a lovely colour that I'm sure she would be delighted with one made of it. A Christmas gift is it to be, asked Elsie, but how will you get it done in time for you no day after tomorrow is Christmas? Yes, I know, but if I could get into the city this afternoon, I think I might get them to promise it by tomorrow night. Well, Yon shall have the curl at any rate if you will just take the scissors and help yourself, and poor Mammy will have the fuel to curl next time, Elsie answered, laughingly. But mine, she added, as Caroline prepared to avail herself of the permission, that you take it where it will not be missed. Of course I will. I don't want to spoil your beauty, though you are so much prettier than I, was Caroline's laughing rejoinder. There, she cried, holding up the severed ringlet. Isn't it a beauty? But don't look scared. It will never be missed, amongst so many. I don't even miss it myself, although I know it is gone. Well, said Elsie, shaking back her curls. I suppose we go down to the drawing room now, and I will ask Papa to take us to the city this afternoon, or if he is too busy to go himself, to let Pomp or Ajax drive us in. I think it would be better fun to go alone, Elsie. Don't you ask Caroline some hesitation, adding quickly? Don't be vexed, but I must confess that I'm more than half afraid of your father. Oh, you wouldn't be Carrie if you knew him, Elsie answered in her eager way. I was a little myself at first, but now I love him so dearly, I never want to go anywhere without him. They found Mr. Dinsmore in the drawing room, where most of the guests and older members of the family were assembled. He was conversing with a strange gentleman, and his little girl stood quietly at his side, patiently waiting until he should be ready to give her his attention. She had to wait some moments, for the gentlemen were discussing some political question, and were too much engaged to notice her. But at length her father put his arm around her, and with a kind smile asked, what is it, daughter? Carrie and I want to go into the city this afternoon. Won't you take us, Papa? I wish I could, my dear, but I have an engagement which makes it quite impossible. Ah, I am sorry. But then, Papa, may we have one of the carriages and pom or Ajax to drive us? May we not? No, daughter, I am sorry to disappoint you, but I am afraid that you are too young to be trusted on such an expedition with only a servant. You must wait until tomorrow when I can take you myself. But Papa, we want to go today. Oh, please do say yes. We want to go so very much, and I am sure we could do very nicely by ourselves. Her arm was around his neck, and both tone and look were very coaxing. My little daughter forgets that when Papa says no, she is never to ask again. Elsie blushed and hung her head. His manner was quite too grave and decided for her to venture another word. What is the matter? What does Elsie want? Asked Adelaide, who was standing near, and had overheard enough to have some idea of the trouble, Mr. Dinsmore explained, and Adelaide at once offered to take charge of the little girls, saying that she intended chopping in the city herself that very afternoon. Thank you, said her brother, looking very much pleased. That obviates the difficulty entirely. Elsie, you may go, if Mrs. Howard gives Caroline permission. Thank you, dear Papa. Thank you so very much, she answered gratefully, then ran away to tell Carrie of her success and secure Mrs. Howard's permission, which was easily obtained. Elsie had intended buying some little presents for each of her house servants and had taken a great deal of pleasure in making out a list of such articles as she thought would be suitable. But on examining her purse, she found to her dismay that she had already spent so much on the miniature and various gifts intended for other members of the family that there was very little left. It was with a very sober, almost sorrowful face that she came down to take her place in the carriage. It brightened instantly, though, as she caught sight of her father waiting to see her off. Already, my darling, he said, holding out his hand, I think you will have a pleasant ride. Ah, yes, if you were only going to, Papa, she answered regretfully. Quite impossible, love, but here is something to help you in your shopping. Use it wisely. And he put a $20 gold piece in her hand. Oh, thank you, Papa. How good and kind you are to me, she exclaimed, her whole face lighting up with pleasure. Now I can buy some things I wanted to get for Mammy and the rest. But how could you know I wanted more money? He only smiled, lifted her up in his arms and kissed her fondly. And then, placing her in the carriage, she said to the coachman, Drive carefully, Ajax, you are carrying my greatest treasure. Never fear, master, these old horses never think of running away, replied the negro with a bow and a grin as he touched his horse with the whip and drove off. It was growing quite dark when the carriage again drove up the avenue and Mr. Horace Dinsmore, who was beginning to feel a little anxious, came out to receive them and ask what had detained them so long. Said Adelaide in a tone of surprise, you gentlemen really have no idea what an undertaking it is to shop. Why, I thought we got through in a wonderfully short time. Oh, Papa, I have bought such quantities of nice things, cried Elsie, springing into his arms, such as tobacco pipes, red flannel, and remarked Adelaide laughing. Indeed, Miss Adelaide exclaimed, Carrie, somewhat indignantly, you forgot the, but Elsie's little hand was suddenly placed over her mouth and Carrie laughed pleasantly, saying, ah, I forgot, I mustn't tell. Papa, Papa, cried Elsie, catching hold of his aunt, do come up to my room and let me show you my purchases. I will, darling, he answered, pinching her cheek. Here, Bill, to a servant, carry these bundles to Miss Elsie's room. Then, picking her up, he tossed her over his shoulder and carried her upstairs as easily as though she had been a baby, as she clinging to him and laughing merrily. Why, Papa, how strong you are, she said, as he set her down. I believe you can carry me as easily as I can, my doll. To be sure, you are my doll, he said, and a light burden for a man of my size and strength. But here come the bundles. What a number! No wonder you were late in getting home. Ah, yes, Papa, see, I want to show you. And catching up one of them, she hastily tore it open, displaying a very bright handkerchief. This is a turban for Aunt Phyllis, and this is a pound of tobacco for old Uncle Jack, and a nice pipe, too. Look, Mammy, won't he be pleased? And there's some flannel for poor Aunt Diana, who has the rheumatism, and that, oh, no, no, Mammy! Don't you open that. It's a nice shawl for her, Papa, she whispered in his ear. Ah, he said, smiling. And which is my present? You had better point it out, lest I stumble upon it and learn the secret too soon. There is none here for you, sir, she replied, looking up into his face with an arched smile. I would give you the bundle you carried upstairs, just now, but I'm afraid you would say it was not mine to give because it belongs to you already. Indeed it does, and I feel richer in that possession than all the gold of California could make me, he said, pressing her to his heart. She looked surpassingly lovely at that moment, her cheeks burning and her eyes sparkling with excitement, the dark, fur-trimmed police and the velvet-hat and plumes setting off to advantage the whiteness of her pure complexion and the glossy ringlets falling in rich masses on her shoulders. My own Papa, I am so glad I do belong to you, she said, throwing her arms around his neck and laying her cheek to his for an instant. Then, springing away, she added, but I must show you the rest of the things, but there are a good many more. And she went on opening bundle after bundle, displaying their contents and telling him for whom she intended them, until at last they had all been examined. And then she said a little wearily, now, Mammy, please put them all away until tomorrow, but first, take off my things and get me ready to go downstairs. No, daughter, Mr. Dinsmore said in a gentle but firm tone, you are not ready to have them put away until the price of each has been set down in your book. Oh, Papa, she pleaded, won't tomorrow do? I'm tired now and isn't it almost tea time? Never put off till tomorrow, what may as well be done today. There is nearly an hour yet before tea and I do not think it need fatigue you much. Elsie's face clouded and the slightest approach to a pout might have been perceived. I hope my little girl is not going to be naughty, he said very gravely. Her face brightened in an instant. No, Papa, she answered cheerfully, I will be good and do whatever you bid me. That is my own darling, he said, and I will help you and it will not take long. He opened her writing desk as he spoke and took out her account book. Oh, Papa, she cried in a startled tone, springing forward and taking hold of his hand. Please, please don't look. You know you said I need not show you until after Christmas. No, I will not, he replied, smiling at her eagerness, but you shall put down the items in the book while I write the labels and Aunt Chloe pins them on. Will that do? Oh, that's a nice plan, Papa, she said merrily as she threw off her hat and police and seating herself before the desk took out her pen and ink. Chloe put the hat and police carefully away, brought a comb and brush and smoothed her nurslings here and then began her share of the business on hand. Half an hour's work finished it all and Elsie wiped her pen and laid it away, saying joyously, oh, I'm so glad it's all done. Papa knew best after all, did he not? Asked her father, drawing her to him and patting her cheek. Yes, Papa, she said softly, you always know best and I'm very sorry I was naughty. He answered with a kiss and taking her hand led her down to the drawing room. After tea the young people adjourned to the nursery where they amused themselves with a variety of innocent games. Quite early in the evening and greatly to Elsie's delight, her father joined them. Though some of the young strangers were at first rather shy of him, they soon found that he could enter heartily into their sports and before the time came to separate for the night he had made himself very popular with nearly all. Time flew fast and Elsie was very much surprised when the clock struck eight. Half past was her bedtime and as she now and then glanced up at the dial plate she thought the hands had never moved so fast. As it struck the half hour she drew near her father's side. Papa, she asked, is the clock right? Yes, my dear it is, he replied, comparing it with his watch. Must I go to bed now? She asked, half hoping for permission to stay up a little longer. Yes, daughter, keep to rules. Elsie looked disappointed and several little voices urged, oh, do let her stay up another hour or at least until nine o'clock. No, I cannot often allow a departure from rules, he said kindly but firmly and tomorrow night Elsie will find it harder to go to bed in season than tonight. Bid your little friends good night, my dear, and go at once. Elsie obeyed readily and cheerfully. You too, Papa, she said, coming to him at last. No, darling, he answered, laying his hand caressingly on her head and smiling approvenly on her, I will come for my good night kiss before you are asleep. Elsie looked very glad and went away feeling herself the happiest little girl in the land in spite of the annoyance of being forced to leave the merry group in the nursery. She was just ready for bed when her papa came in and, taking her in his arms, folded her to his heart, saying, my own, darling, my good, obedient little daughter. Dear Papa, I love you so much, she replied, twining her arms round his neck. I love you all the better for never letting me have my own way, but always making me obey and keep to rules. I don't doubt it, daughter, he said, for I have often noticed that spoiled, coddled children usually have very little love for their parents or indeed for anyone but themselves. But I must put you in your bed or you will be in danger of taking cold. He laid her down, tucked the clothes snugly about her, and pressing one more kiss on the round rosy cheek, left her to her slumbers. Elsie Dinsmore by Martha Finley Chapter Fourteenth The young party at Roselands had now grown so large, several editions having been made to it on Monday afternoon and evening, that a separate table was ordered to be spread for them in the nursery, where they took their meals together. Mrs. Brown, the housekeeper, taking the head of the table, for the double purpose of keeping them in order and seeing that their wants were well supplied. Elsie came into breakfast from a brisk walk with her Papa, looking fresh and rosy and bright as the morning, quite different from some of the little guests, who had been up far beyond their usual hours the night before, and, having just left their beds, had come down pale and languid in looks, and in some instances showing peevish and fretful tempers, very trying to the patience of their attendance. Oh, Elsie exclaimed Carrie Howard, as the little girl took her place at the table. We were all so sorry that you had to leave us so soon last night. We had lots of fun after you left. I think your Papa might have let you stay up a little longer, but he has promised that tonight, as we are to have the Christmas tree, and ever so much will be going on, you shall stay up till half past nine, if you like. Aren't you glad? I'm sure I am. Yes, Papa is very kind, and I know I feel much better for going to bed early last night, said Elsie, cheerfully. Yes, indeed, remarked Mrs. Brown. Late hours and rich food are very bad for little folks, and I noticed that Miss Elsie has grown a deal stronger and healthier looking since her Papa came home. He takes such good care of her. Indeed he does, said Elsie heartily, thanking Mrs. Brown with one of her sweetest smiles. What are we going to do today, Elsie? asked Caroline. Whatever you all prefer, said Elsie. If you like, I will practice that duet with you the first hour after breakfast, or do anything else you wish, but the second hour I must spend with Papa, and after that I have nothing to do but entertain my company all day. Do you do lessons in holidays? Asked Mary Leslie, a merry, fun-loving child about Elsie's own age, who considered lessons an intolerable bore, and had some vague idea that they must have been invented for the sole purpose of tormenting children. Her blue eyes opened wide with astonishment when Elsie quietly replied that her Papa had kindly arranged to give her an hour every morning, because he knew it would be so much pleasant her for her than spending the whole day in play. Elsie did keenly enjoy that quiet hour spent in studying and reciting to her father, sitting on a low stool at his feet, or perhaps oftener on his knee, with his arm around her waist. She had an eager and growing thirst for knowledge, and was an apt scholar whom anyone with the least love for the profession might have delighted in teaching, and Mr. Dinsmore, a thorough scholar himself, and loving knowledge for its own sake, loving also his little pupil with all of father's fond yearning affection, delighted in his task. When Elsie left her father, she found that the Carrington's had just arrived. She and Lucy had not seen each other since the week the latter had spent at Roseland's early in the summer, and both felt pleased to meet. Mrs. Carrington gave Elsie a warm embrace, remarking that she had grown and was looking extremely well, better than she had ever seen her. But no one was more delighted to meet Elsie than Herbert, and she was very glad to learn that his health was gradually improving. He was not, however, at all strong, even yet, and his mother thought it best for him to lie down and rest a little after his ride. She promised to sit by him, and the two little girls went in search of the rest of the young folks. Several of the older boys had gone out walking or riding, but the younger ones, and all the little girls, were gathered in a little back parlor, where, by Adelaide's care and forethought, a variety of storybooks, toys, and games had been provided for their amusement. Elsie's entrance was hailed with delight, for she was a general favorite. Oh, Elsie, can't you tell us what to play? cried Mary Leslie. I'm so tired, and she yawned wearily. Here are some dissected maps, Mary, replied Elsie, opening a drawer. Would you not like them? No indeed, thank you. They are too much like lessons. Here are blocks. Will you build houses? Oh, I'm too big for that. They are very nice for little children. Will you play jackstones? Here are some smooth pebbles. Yes, if you and Carrie and Lucy will play with me. Agreed, said the others. Let's have a game. So, Elsie, having first set the little ones to building blockhouses, supplied Harry Carrington, an older brother of Lucy's, with a book, and two younger boys with dissected maps to arrange, the four girls sat down in a circle on the carpet and began their game. For a few moments all went on smoothly, but soon angry and complaining words were heard coming from the corner where the house building was going on. Elsie left her game to try to make peace. What is the matter, Flora dear? She asked soothingly of a little curly-headed girl, who was sobbing and wiping her eyes with the corner of her apron. Anna took my blocks, sobbed the child. Oh, Anna, won't you give them back? said Elsie coaxingly. You know Flora is a visitor, and we must be very polite to her. No, I won't, returned Anna flatly. She's got enough now. No, I haven't. I can't build a house with those, Flora said, with another sob. Elsie stood a moment, looking much perplexed. Then, with a brightening face, exclaimed in her cheerful, pleasant way. Well, never mind, Flora dear, I will get you my doll. Will not that do quite as well? Oh, yes! I'd rather have the doll, Elsie. The little weeper answered eagerly, smiling through her tears. Elsie ran out of the room and was back again almost in a moment with the doll in her arms. There, dear little Flora, she said, laying it gently on the child's lap. Please be careful of it, for I have had it a long while and prize it very much, because my guardian gave it to me when I was a very little girl, and he is dead now. I won't break it, Elsie. Indeed, I won't, replied Flora, confidently, and Elsie sat down to her game again. A few moments afterward Mr. Horriston's more passed through the room. Elsie, he said, as he caught sight of his little daughter, go up to my dressing room. There was evidently displeasure and reproof in his tone, and entirely unconscious of wrong doing, Elsie looked up in surprise, asking, Why, Papa? Because I bid you, he replied, and she silently obeyed, wondering greatly what she had done to displease her father. Mr. Dinsmore passed out of one door while Elsie left by the other. The three little girls looked inquiringly into each other's faces. What is the matter? What has Elsie done? asked Carrie in a whisper. I don't know. Nothing, I guess, replied Lucy indignantly. I do believe he's just the crossest man alive. When I was here last summer he was all the time scolding and punishing poor Elsie for just nothing at all. I think he must be very strict, said Carrie, but Elsie seems to love him very much. Strict? I guess he is, exclaimed Mary. Why, only think, girls, he makes her do her lessons in the holidays. I suspect she did not know her lesson and has to learn it over, said Carrie, shaking her head wisely, and that was the conclusion they all came to. In the meantime, Elsie sat down alone in her banishment and tried to think what she could have done to deserve it. It was some time before she could form any idea of its cause, but at length it suddenly came to her recollection that once, several months before this, her father had found her sitting on the carpet, and had bade her get up immediately and sit on a chair or stool, saying, Never let me see you sitting on the floor, Elsie, when there are plenty of seats at hand, I consider it a very unladylike and slovenly trick. She covered her face with her hands and sat thus for some moments, feeling very sorry for her forgetfulness and disobedience, very penitent on account of it, and then kneeling down she asked forgiveness of God. A full hour she had been there alone, and the time had seemed very long, when at last the door opened and her father came in. Elsie rose and came forward to meet him with the air of one who had offended and knew she was in disgrace, but putting one of her little hands in his, she looked up pleadingly into his face, asking in a slightly tremulous tone, Dear Papa, are you angry with me? I am always displeased when you disobey me, Elsie, he replied, very gravely, laying his other hand on her head. I am very sorry I was naughty, Papa, she said, humbly, and casting down her eyes, but I had quite forgotten that you had told me not to sit on the floor, and I could not think for a good while what it was that I had done wrong. Is that an excuse for disobedience, Elsie? he asked in a tone of grave displeasure. No, sir, I did not mean it so, and I am very, very sorry. Dear Papa, please forgive me, and I will try never to forget again. I think you disobeyed in another matter, he said. Yes, sir, I know it was very naughty to ask why, but I think I will remember not to do it again. Dear Papa, won't you forgive me? He sat down and took her on his knee. Yes, daughter, I will, he said, in his usual kind, affectionate tone. I am always ready to forgive my little girl when I see that she is sorry for a fault. She held up her face for a kiss which he gave. I wish I could always be good, Papa, she said, but I am naughty so often. No, said he, I think you have been a very good girl for quite a long time. If you are as naughty as Arthur and Anna, I don't know what I should do with you. Whip you every day, I suspect, until I made a better girl of you. Now you may go down to your mates, but remember, you are not to play jackstones again. It was now lunchtime, and Elsie found the children in the nursery engaged in eating. Flora turned to her as she entered. Please, Elsie, don't be cross, she said coaxingly. I'm real sorry, your doll's broken, but it wasn't my fault Anna would try to snatch it, and that made it fall and break its head. Poor Elsie, this was quite a trial, and she could scarcely keep back the tears as, following Flora's glance, she saw her valued doll lying on the window-seat with its head broken entirely off. She said not a word, but hastily crossing the room. Took it up and gazed mournfully at it. Kind Mrs. Brown, who had just finished helping her young charge all round, followed her to the window. Never mind, dear, she said in her pleasant, cheery tone, patting Elsie's cheek and smoothing her hair. I've got some excellent glue, and I think I can stick it on again, and make it almost as good as ever. So come, sit down and eat your lunch, and don't fret any more. Thank you, ma'am, you're very kind, Elsie said, trying to smile, as the kind-hearted old lady led her to the table and filled her plate with fruit and cakes. These cakes are very simple, not at all rich, my dear, but quite what your papa would approve of, she said, seeing the little girl looked doubtfully at them. Doesn't your papa let you eat anything good, Elsie? Asked Mary Leslie across the table. He must be cross. No, indeed he is not, Mary, and he lets me eat everything that he thinks is good for me. Elsie answered with some warmth. She was seated between Caroline Howard and Lucy Carrington. What did your papa send you away for, Elsie? Whispered the latter. Please don't ask me, Lucy, replied the little girl, blushing deeply. Papa always has a good reason for what he does, and he is just the dearest, kindest, and best father that ever anybody had. Elsie spoke in an eager, excited, almost angry manner, quite unusual with her, while the hot tears came into her eyes, for she knew very well what was Lucy's opinion of her father, and more than half suspected that she had been making some unkind remark about him to the others, and she was eager to remove any unfavorable impression they might have received. I'm sure he must love you very dearly, Elsie, remarked Caroline soothingly. No one could help seeing that just by the way he looks at you. Elsie answered her with a pleased and grateful look, and then changed the subject by proposing that they should all take a walk as soon as they had finished eating, as the day was fine, and there would be plenty of time before dinner. The motion was carried without a dissenting voice, and in a few moments they all set out, a very merry party, full of fun and frolic. They had a very pleasant time, and returned barely in season to be dressed for dinner. They dined by themselves in the nursery, but were afterward taken down to the drawing-room. Here Elsie found herself immediately seized upon by a young lady, dressed in a very gay and fashionable style, whom she did not remember ever to have seen before, but who insisted on seating the little girl on the sofa by her side and keeping her there a long while, loading her with caresses and flattery. My dear child, she said, what lovely hair you have, so fine and soft and glossy, such a beautiful color, too, and curls so splendidly! Natural ringlets, I am sure. Are they not? Yes, ma'am, Elsie answered simply, wishing from the bottom of her heart that the lady would release her and talk to someone else. But the lady had no such intention. You are a very sweet little girl, I am sure, and I shall love you dearly, she said, kissing her several times. I would give anything if I had such a clear fair complexion and such rosy cheeks. That makes you blush. Well, I like to see it, blushes are very becoming. Oh, you needn't pretend you don't know you're handsome, you're a perfect little beauty. Do tell me, where did you get such splendid eyes? But I needn't ask, for I have only to look at your father to see where they come from. Mr. Dinsmore! To Elsie's papa, who just then came toward them, you ought to be very proud of this child. She is the very image of yourself and a perfect little beauty, too. Miss Stevens is pleased to flatter me, he said, bowing low, but flattery is not good for either grown-up children or younger ones, and I must beg leave to decline the compliment, as I cannot see that Elsie bears the slightest resemblance to me or any of my family. She is very like her mother, though, he added, with a half sigh and a tender loving glance at his little girl, and that is just what I would have her. But I am forgetting my errand, Miss Stevens. I came to ask if you will ride this afternoon, as we are getting up a small party. Yes, thank you, I should like it dearly, it is such a lovely day, but how soon do you start? As soon as the ladies can be ready, the horses will be at the door in a very few moments. Ah, then I must go and prepare, she said, rising and failing out of the room. Mr. Dinsmore took the seat she had vacated, and, passing his arm round his little girl, said to her in an undertone, my little daughter must not be so foolish as to believe that people mean all they say to her, for some persons talk in a very thoughtless way, and, without perhaps intending to be exactly untruthful, say a great deal that they really do not mean, and I should be sorry, indeed, to see my little girl so spoiled by all this silly flattery as to grow up conceited in vain. She looked at him with her own sweet innocent smile, free from the slightest touch of vanity. No, Papa, she said, I do not mind when people say such things, because I know the Bible says, favor is deceitful, and beauty is vain, and in another place, he that flattereth his neighbor spreadeth a net for his feet, so I will try to keep away from that lady. Shall I not, Papa? Whenever you can do so without rudeness, daughter, and he moved away, thinking to himself, how strangely the teachings of that book seem to preserve my child from every evil influence. Asai escaped him. There was lurking within his breast a vague consciousness that her father needed such a safeguard, but had it not. Lucy, who was standing at the window, turned quickly round. Come, girls, she said. Let us run out and see them off. They're bringing up the horses. And see, there's Miss Adelaide in her riding-dress-and-cap, how pretty she looks, and there's that Miss Stevens coming out now, hateful thing. I can't bear her. Come, Elsie and Carrie. And she ran out, Caroline and Elsie following. Elsie, however, went no further than the hall, where she stood still at the foot of the stairs. Come, Elsie, called the other two from the portico. Come out here. No, replied the little girl. I cannot come without something round me. Papa says it is too cold for me to be out in the wind today with my neck and arms bare. Poo, nonsense, said Lucy. Taint a bit cold. Do come now. No, Lucy, I must obey my father. Elsie answered in a very pleasant, but no less decided tone. Someone caught her round the waist and lifted her up. Oh, Papa, she exclaimed. I did not know you were there. I wish I was going out too. I don't like to have you go without me. I wish you were my pet. I always love to have you with me. But you know it wouldn't do. You have your little guests to entertain. Goodbye, darling. Don't go out in the cold. He kissed her, as he always did now, when leaving her even for an hour or two, and set her down. The little girls watched until the last of the party had disappeared down the avenue, and then ran gaily upstairs to Elsie's room, where they busied themselves until tea time in various little preparations for the evening, such as dressing dolls and tying up bundles of confectionery, etc., to be hung upon the Christmas tree. The children had all noticed that the doors of a parlor opening into the drawing-room had been closed since morning to all but a favored view, who passed in and out with an air of mystery and importance, and generally laden with some odd-looking bundle when going in, which they invariably left behind on coming out again, and many a whispered consultation had been held as to what was probably going on in there. Elsie and Kerry seemed to be in the secret, but only smiled and shook their heads wisely when questioned. But at length, tea being over, and all, both old and young, assembled as if by common consent in the drawing-room, it began to be whispered about, that their curiosity was now on the point of being gratified. All were immediately on the kivive, and every face brightened with mirth and expectation, and when, a moment after, the doors were thrown open, there was a universal burst of applause. A large Christmas tree had been set up at the further end of the room, and with its myriad of lighted tapers and its load of toys and bonbons, interspersed with many a richer and more costly gift, made quite a display. Beautiful! Beautiful! cried the children, clapping their hands and dancing about with delight, while their elders, perhaps equally pleased, expressed their admiration after a more staid and sober fashion. When they thought their handy work had been sufficiently admired, Mrs. Dinsmore and Adelaide approached the tree and began the pleasant task of distributing the gifts. Everything was labelled, and each, as his or her name was called out, stepped forward to receive the present. No one had been forgotten, each had something, and almost everyone had several pretty presents. Mary Leslie and little Flora Arnott were made perfectly happy with wax dolls that could open and shut their eyes. Caroline Howard received a gold chain from her mama, and a pretty pin from Elsie, Lucy a set of coral ornaments beside several smaller presents, and others were equally fortunate. All was mirth and hilarity, only one cloud had faced to be seen, and that belonged to Anna, who was pouting in a corner because Mary Leslie's doll was a little larger than hers. Elsie had already received a pretty bracelet from her aunt Adelaide, a needle case from Laura, and several little gifts from her young guests, and was just beginning to wonder what had become of her papa's promised present when she heard her name again, and Adelaide, turning to her with a pleased look, slipped a most beautiful diamond ring on her finger. From your papa, she said, go and thank him, it is well worth it. Elsie sought him out where he stood alone in a corner, an amused spectator of the Mary scene. See, papa, she said, holding up her hand, I think it very beautiful. Thank you, dear papa, thank you very much. Does it please you, my darling? he asked, stooping to press a kiss on the little upturned face, so bright and happy. Yes, papa, I think it is so lovely, the very prettiest ring I ever saw. Yet I think there is something else you would have liked better. Is there not? he asked, looking searchingly into her face. Dear papa, I like it very much. I would rather have it than anything else on the tree. Still you have not answered my question, he said, with a smile, as he sat down and drew her to his side, adding in a playful tone, come, I am not going to put up with any evasion, tell me truly if you would have preferred something else, and if so, what it is. Elsie blushed and looked down, then raising her eyes and seeing with what a tender loving glance he was regarding her, she took courage to say, yes, papa, there is one thing I would have liked better, and that is your miniature. To her surprise, he looked highly pleased at her reply, and giving her another kiss said, well, darling, someday you shall have it. Mr. Horace Dinsmore called Adelaide taking some small glittering object from the tree. Another present for me, he asked, as Walter came running with it. He had already received several from his father and sisters, but none had seemed to give him half the pleasure that this did when he saw that it was labeled from his little daughter. It was only a gold pencil. The miniature, with which the artist had succeeded so well that nothing could have been prettier except the original, she had reserved to be given in another way. Do you like it, papa? She asked, her face glowing with delight to see how pleased he was. Yes, darling, very much, and I shall always think of my little girl when I use it. Keep it in your pocket, and use it every day, won't you, papa? Yes, my pet, I will, but I thought you said you had no present for me. Oh, no, no, papa, I said there was none for you amongst those bundles. I had bought this, but had given it to Aunt Adelaide to take care of, for fear you might happen to see it. Ah, was that it, eh? And he laughed and stroked her hair. Here, Elsie is your bundle of candy, said Walter, running up to them again. Everybody has one, and that is yours, Adelaide says. He put it in her hand and ran away again. Elsie looked up in her father's face inquiringly. No, darling, he said, taking the paper from her hand and examining its contents. Not tonight. Tomorrow, after breakfast, you may eat the cream candy and the rock, but none of the others. They are colored and very unwholesome. Won't you eat some, papa? She asked with winning sweetness. No, dearest, he said, for though I too am fond of sweet things, I will not eat them while I refuse them to you. Do, papa, she urged, it would give me pleasure to see you enjoying it. No, darling, I will wait until tomorrow, too. Then please keep it for me until tomorrow, papa, will you? Yes, he said, putting in his pocket, and then, as the gifts had all been distributed, and the little folks were in high glee, a variety of sports were commenced by them, in which some of their elders also took apart, and thus the hours sped away so rapidly that Elsie was very much surprised when her father called her to go to bed. Is it half past nine already, papa, she asked? It is ten, my dear child, and high time you were in bed, he said, smiling at her look of astonishment. I hope you have enjoyed yourself. Oh, so much, papa. Good night, and thank you for letting me stay up so long. Elsie Dinsmore by Martha Finlay Chapter Fifteenth Ask me not why I should love her. Look upon those soulful eyes. Look, while mirth or feeling move her and see there how sweetly rise thoughts gay and gentle from a breast which is of innocence the nest, which, though each joy were from it shred by truth, would still be tenanted. Hoffman's Poems It was yet dark when Elsie awoke, but hearing the clock strike five she knew it was morning. She lay still a little while, and then, slipping softly out of bed, put her feet into her slippers, through her warm dressing gown around her, and feeling for a little package she had left on her toilet table she secured it, and stole noiselessly from the room. All was darkness and silence in the house, but she had no thought of fear, and gliding gently down the hall to her papa's door she turned the handle very cautiously when, to her great delight, she had found it had been left unfastened and yielded readily to her touch. She entered as quietly as a little mouse, listened a moment until satisfied from his breathing that her father was still sound asleep, then stepping softly across the room she laid her package down where he could not fail to see it as soon as daylight came and his eyes were opened. This accomplished. She stole back again as noiselessly as she had come. Who that? demanded Chloe, starting up in bed as Elsie re-entered her own apartment. It is only I. Did I frighten you, Mammy? answered the little girl with a merry laugh. Okay, child, at you. What are you doing running about the house all in the dark cold night? It isn't night, Mammy. I heard it strike five some time ago. Well, then, this child won't get right up and make the fire, but just you creep back into the bed, darling, for you catch your death a cold. I will, Mammy, Elsie said, doing as she was desired, but please dress me as soon as the room is warm enough, won't you? Yes, darling. Case, of course I know you want to be up earlier Christmas morning. Miss Elsie, that's a beautiful shell you gave your old Mammy. I shan't feel the cold at all this winter. I hope not, Mammy, and were Aunt Phyllis and Aunt Jack and all the rest pleased with their presents? I reckoned it was, darling, most ready to go off to handle, entirely. Chloe had soon built up her fire and coaxed it into a bright blaze, and in a few moments more she pronounced the room sufficiently warm for her nursing to get up and be dressed. Elsie was impatient to go to her father, but even after she had been carefully dressed and all her morning duties attended to, it was still so early that Chloe advised her to wait a little longer, assuring her that it was only a very short time since John had gone in to make his master's fire and supply him with hot water for shaving. So the little girl sat down and tried to drown her impatience in the pages of a new book, one of her Christmas presents. But Chloe presently stole softly behind her chair and holding up high above her head some glittering object attached to a pretty gold chain, let it gradually descend until it rested upon the open book. Elsie started and jumped up with an exclamation of surprise. Wonder if you know that, gentlemen darling? Oh, it's Papa, cried the little girl, catching it in her hand. My own dear darling Papa, oh how good of him to give it to me! And she danced about the room in her delight. It is just himself so exactly like him. Isn't it a good likeness, Mammy? She asked, drawing near the light to examine it more closely. Dear, dear darling Papa, and she kissed it again and again. Then, gently, drawing her mother's miniature from her bosom, she laid them side by side. My Papa and Mama, are they not beautiful, Mammy? Both of them? She asked, raising her swimming eyes to the dusky face, leaning over her, and gazing with such mournful fondness at the sweet girlish countenance, so lifelike and beautiful, yet calling up thoughts of sorrow and bereavement. My darling young Mrs., murmured the old nurse, My own precious child that these arms have carried so many years, this old heart like to break whenever I think to you, and memories how your bright young face done gone away forever. The big tears were rolling fast down the sable cheeks, and dropping like rain on Elsie's curls, while the broad bosom heaved with sobs. But your old Mammy's been good to you, little child, that you left behind, darling. Indeed she has, she went on. Yes, Mammy, indeed, indeed you have, Elsie said, twining her arms lovingly around her. But don't let us cry any more, for we know that dear Mama is very happy in heaven, and does not wish us to grieve for her now. I shall not show you the picture any more if it makes you cry like that, she added, half playfully. Not always, child, Chloe said, wiping away her tears. But just this here morning, Christmas morning, when she was always so bright and merry, seems only yesterday she went dancing about just like you. Yes, Mammy, dear, but she is with the angels now. My sweet, pretty Mama, Elsie whispered softly, with another tender, loving look at the picture, ere she returned it to its accustomed resting place in her bosom. And now I must go to Papa, she said more cheerfully, for it is almost breakfast time. Is my darling satisfied now, he asked, as she ran into his arms and was folded in a close embrace? Yes, Papa, indeed I am. Thank you a thousand times, it is all I wanted. And you have given me the most acceptable present you could have found. It is the most excellent likeness, and I am delighted with it. I am so glad, Papa, but it was Aunt Adelaide who thought of it. Ah, that was very kind of her. But how does my little girl feel this morning after all her dissipation? Oh, very well, thank you, Papa. You will not want to say any less than today, I suppose. Oh, yes, if you please, Papa, and it does not give you too much trouble, she said. It is the very pleasantest hour in the day, except— Well, except what? Ah, yes, I understand. Well, my pet, it shall be as you wish, but come to me directly after breakfast, as I am going out early. Elsie had had her hour with her father, but though he had left her and gone out, she still lingered in his dressing-room, looking over the next day's lesson. At length, however, she closed the book and left the room, intending to seek her young guests who were in the lower part of the house. Ms. Stevens's door was open as she passed, and that lady called to her, Elsie, dear you sweet little creature, come here and see what I have for you. Elsie obeyed, though rather reluctantly, and Ms. Stevens, bidding her sit down, went to a drawer and took out a large paper of mixed candy, all the best in most expensive kinds, which she put into the little girl's hands with one of her sweetest smiles. It was a strong temptation to a child who had a great fondness for such things, but Elsie had prayed from her heart that morning for strength to resist temptation, and it was given her. Thank you, ma'am, you are very kind, she said gratefully, but I cannot take it, because Papa does not approve of my eating such things. He gave me a little this morning, but said I must not have any more for a long time. Now that is quite too bad, exclaimed Ms. Stevens, but at least take one or two, child, that much couldn't possibly hurt you and your Papa need never know. Elsie gave her a look of grieved surprise. Oh, how could you think I would do that, she said, but God would know, Ms. Stevens, and I should know it myself, and how could I ever look my Papa in the face again after deceiving him so. Really, my dear, you are making a very serious matter of a mere trifle, laughed the lady, why I have deceived my father more than fifty times and never thought of any harm. But here is something I am sure you can take, and indeed you must, for I bought both it and the candy expressly for you. She replaced the candy in the drawer as she spoke, and took from another a splendidly bound book which she laid in Elsie's lap, saying with a triumphant air. There, my dear, what do you think of that? Is it not handsome? Elsie's eyes sparkled. Books were her greatest treasures, but feeling an instinctive repugnance to taking a gift from one whom she could neither respect nor love, she made an effort to decline it, though at the same time thanking the lady warmly for her kind intentions. But Ms. Stevens would hear of no refusal and fairly forced it upon her acceptance, declaring that as she had bought it expressly for her, she should feel extremely hurt if she did not take it. Then I will, Ms. Stevens, said the little girl, and I am sure you are very kind. I love books and pictures too, and these are lovely engravings, she added, turning over the leaves with undisguised pleasure. Yes, and the stories are right pretty too, marked Ms. Stevens. Yes, ma'am, they look as if they were, and I should like dearly to read them. Well, dear, just sit down and read. There's nothing to hinder. I'm sure your little friends can do without you for an hour or two, or if you prefer it, take the book and enjoy it with them. It is your own, you know, to use as you like. Thank you, ma'am, but though I can look at the pictures, I must not read the stories until I have asked Papa, because he does not allow me to read anything now without first showing it to him. Dear me, how very strict he is, exclaimed Ms. Stevens. I wonder, she thought to herself, if he would expect to domineer over his wife in that style. Elsie was slowly turning over the leaves of the book, enjoying the pictures very much, studying them intently, but resolutely refraining from even glancing over the printed pages. But at length she closed it, and looking out of the window said with a slight sigh, oh, I wish Papa would come, but I'm afraid he won't for a long while, and I do so want to read these stories. Suppose you let me read one to you, suggested Ms. Stevens. That would not be your reading it, you know. Elsie looked shocked at the proposal. Oh no, ma'am, thank you. I know you mean to be kind, but I could not do it. It would be so very wrong, quite the same, I am sure, as if I read it with my own eyes, she answered hurriedly, and then, fearing to be tempted further, she excused herself and went in search of her young companions. She found them in the drawing-room. Wasn't it too provoking, Elsie, that those people didn't send home my brace that last night exclaimed Carolyn Howard? I have just been telling Lucy about it. I think that it was such a shame for them to disappoint me for I wanted to have it on the tree. I'm sorry you were disappointed, Kerry, but perhaps it will come today, Elsie answered in a sympathizing tone, and then she showed the new book, which she still held in her hand. They spent some time in examining it, talking about and admiring the pictures, and then went out for a walk. Has Papa come in yet, Mammy? Was Elsie's first question on returning? Yes, darling, I think he's in the drawing-roomed as very minute, Chloe answered, as she took off the little girl's hat and carefully smoothed her hair. There, there, Mammy, won't that do now? I'm in a little bit of a hurry. Elsie said with a merry little laugh as she slipped playfully from under her nurse's hands and ran downstairs. But she was doomed to disappointment for the present, for her Papa was seated on the sofa beside Miss Stevens, talking to her, and so she must wait a little longer. At last, however, he rose, went to the other side of the room, and stood a moment looking out of the window. Then Elsie hastened to take her book from a table, where she had laid it, and going up to him said, Papa. He turned round instantly, asking in a pleasant tone, Well, daughter, what is it? She put the book into his hand, saying eagerly, It is a Christmas gift from Miss Stevens, Papa. Will you let me read it? He did not answer immediately, but turned over the leaves, glancing rapidly over page after page, but not too rapidly to be able to form a pretty correct idea of the contents. No, daughter, he said, handing it back to her. You must content yourself with looking at the pictures. They are by far the best part. The stories are very unsuitable for a little girl of your age, and would indeed be unprofitable reading for anyone. She looked a little disappointed. I am glad I can trust my little daughter and feel certain that she will not disobey me, he said, smiling kindly on her and patting her cheek. She answered him with a bright happy look, full of confiding affection, laid the book away without a murmur, and left the room, her father's eyes following her with a fond, loving glance. Miss Stevens, who had watched them both closely during this little scene, bit her lips with vexation at the result of her maneuver. She had come to Rosalinds with the fixed determination to lay siege to Mr. Horriston's Moor's heart, and flattering and petting his little daughter was one of her modes of attack, but his decided disapproval of her presence she perceived did not augur well for the success of her schemes. She was by no means in despair, however, for she had great confidence in the power of her own personal attractions, being really tolerably pretty, and considering herself a great beauty, as well as very highly accomplished. As Elsie ran out into the hall, she found herself suddenly caught in Mr. Trevilla's arms. A merry Christmas and a happy new year, little Elsie, he said, kissing her on both cheeks. Now I have caught you figuratively and literally my little lady, so what are you going to give me, eh? Indeed, sir, I think you've helped yourself to the only thing I have to give at present, she answered with a merry, silverly laugh. Nay, give me one, little lady, said he. One such hug and kiss as I dare say your father gets half a dozen times in a day. She gave it very heartily. Ah, I wish she were ten years older, he said, as he set her down. If I had been, you wouldn't have got the kiss, she replied, smiling archly. Now it's my turn, he said, taking something from his pocket. I expected you'd catch me, and so thought it best to come prepared. He took her hand as he spoke, and placed a beautiful little gold thimble on her finger. There, that's to encourage you in industry. Thank you, sir, oh, it's a little beauty! I must run and show it to Papa. But I must not forget my politeness, she added hastily, throwing open the drawing-room door. Come in, Mr. Trevilla. She waited quietly until the usual greetings were exchanged, then went up to her father and showed her new gift. He quite entered into her pleasure and remarked with a glance at Miss Stevens that her friends were very kind. The lady's hopes rose. He was, then, pleased with her attention to his child, even though he did not altogether approve of her choice of a gift. There was a large party to dinner that day, and the children came down to the dessert. Miss Stevens, who had contrived to be seated next to Mr. Dinsmore, made an effort on the entrance of the juveniles to have Elsie placed on her other side, but Mr. Trevilla was too quick for her, and had his young favored on his knee before she could gain her attention. The lady was disappointed, and Elsie herself only half satisfied. But the two gentlemen, who thoroughly understood Miss Stevens and saw through all her maneuvers, exchanged glances of amusement and satisfaction. After dinner, Mr. Trevilla invited Elsie, Kerry, Lucy, and Mary to take a ride in his carriage, which invitation was joyfully accepted by all. Mr. Dinsmore giving a ready consent to Elsie's request to be permitted to go. They had a very merry time, for Mr. Trevilla quite laid himself out for their entertainment, and no one knew better than he had to amuse ladies of their age. It was nearly dark when they returned, and Elsie went at once to her room to be dressed for the evening. But she found it unoccupied. Aunt Chloe, as it afterward appeared, having gone down to the quarter to carry some of the little girl's gifts to one or two who were too old and feeble to come up to the house to receive them. Elsie rang the bell, waited a little, and then, feeling impatient to be dressed, ran down to the kitchen to see what had become of her nurse. A very animated discussion was going on there, just at that moment between the cook and two or three of her sable companions, and the first words that reached the child's ears as she stood on the threshold were, I tell you, you old darkie, you don't know nothing about it. Massa Horus, gonna marry that bit of paint and finery? No such ting. Massa's got more sense. The words were spoken in a most scornful tone, and Elsie, into whose childish mind the possibility of her father's marrying again had never entered, stood spellbound with astonishment. But the conversation went on. The speakers quite unconscious of her vicinity. It was Pompey's voice that replied, If Massa Horus don't like her, what for they been going riding every afternoon? Will you tell me that, darkies? And don't disnegar see him sit beside her morning, noon, and night, laughing and talking at the table and in the parlor? And don't she keep a kissin' little Miss Elsie and callin' her pretty critter, sweet critter in the lack? She, ma, to our sweet little Miss Elsie? Bah, I tell you, Pompey, Massa Horus got more sense, returned the cook indignantly. Aunt Chloe don't believe no such stuff, put in another voice. She says Massa Horus couldn't put such trash in her sweet young mistress's place. Aunt Chloe's a very fine woman, no doubt, observed Pompey disdainfully. But I reckon Massa Horus ain't going to infide his matrimonial intentions to her, and I consider it quite consequential on Massa's being young and handsome that he will take another wife. The next speaker said something about his having lived a good while without, and though Miss Stevens was setting her cap, maybe he wouldn't be caught. But Elsie only gathered the sense of it, hardly heard the words, and bounding away like a frightened deer to her own rum, her little heart beating wildly with a confused sense of suffering, she threw herself on the bed. She shed no tears, but there was, oh, such a weight on her heart, such a terrible though vague sense of the instability of all earthly happiness. There Chloe found her, and wondered much what ailed her darling, what made her so silent and yet so restless, and caused such a deep flush on her cheek. She feared she was feverish, her little hand was so hot and dry, but Elsie insisted that she was quite well, and so Chloe tried to think it was only fatigue. She would faint if persuaded the little girls to lie still upon her bed and rest, and let her tea be brought to her there, but Elsie answered that she would much rather be dressed and join her young companions in the nursery. They too wondered what ailed her, she was so very quiet and ate almost nothing at all. They asked if she was sick. She only shook her head. Was she tired then? Yes, she believed she was, and she leaned her head wearily on her hand. But indeed most of the party seemed dull. They had gone through such a round of pleasure and excitement for the last two or three days that now a reaction was beginning, and they wanted rest, especially the very little ones who all retired quite early when Elsie and her mates joined their parents in the drawing room. Elsie looked eagerly around for her father the moment she entered the room. He was beside Miss Stevens, who was at the piano, performing a very difficult piece of music. He was leaning over her turning the leaves and apparently listening with a great deal of pleasure, for she really was a fine musician. Elsie felt sick at heart at the sight, although a few hours before it would have given her no concern and found it very difficult to listen to and answer the remarks Mrs. Carrington was making to her about her Christmas presents, and the nice ride that they had had that afternoon. Mr. Trevilla was watching her. He had noticed as soon as she came in the sad and troubled look which had come over her face, and following the glance of her eyes he guessed at the cause. He knew there was no danger of the trial that she feared, and would have been glad to tell her so, but felt that it was too delicate a subject for him to venture on. It might seem too much like meddling in Mr. Dinsmore's affairs. But he did the next best thing, got the four little girls into a corner and tried to entertain them with stories and charades. Elsie seemed interested for a time, but every now and then her eyes would wander to the other side of the room, where her father still stood listening to Ms. Stevens' music. At length Mr. Trevilla was called away to give his opinion about some tableau the young ladies were arranging, and Elsie, knowing it was her usual time for retiring, and not caring to avail herself of her father's permission to stay up until nine o'clock, stole quietly away to her room unobserved by anyone, and feeling as if Ms. Stevens had already robbed her of her father. She wiped away a few quiet tears as she went, and was very silent and sad while her mammy was preparing her for bed. She hardly knew how to do without her good-night kiss, but feeling as she did, it had seemed quite impossible to ask for it while Ms. Stevens was so near him. When she knelt down to pray, she became painfully conscious that a feeling of positive dislike to that lady had been creeping into her heart, and she asked earnestly to be enabled to put it away. But she prayed also that she might be spared the trial that she feared, if God's will were so, and she thought surely it was because she had found out that Ms. Stevens was not good, not truthful, or sincere. Perhaps dear Papa will come to say good-night before I am asleep, she murmured to herself, calmed and soothed by thus casting her burden on the Lord. She laid her head upon her pillow. He, however, had become interested in the subject of the tableau, and did not miss his little girl until the sound of the clock striking ten reminded him of her, and he looked around expecting to see her still in the room. But not seeing her, he asked Lucy Carrington where she was. Oh! said Lucy. She's been gone these two hours, I should think. I guess she must have gone to bed. Strange that she did not come to bid me good-night, he exclaimed in a low tone, more as if thinking aloud than speaking to Lucy. He hastily left the room. Mr. Trevilla followed. Dinsmore, said he. Mr. Dinsmore stopped, and Trevilla, drawing him to one side, said in an undertone, I think my little friend is in trouble tonight. Ah! he exclaimed with a startled look. What can it be? I did not hear of any accident. She has not been hurt, is not sick. Tell me, Trevilla, quickly, if anything ails my child. Nothing, nothing, Dinsmore. Only you know servants will talk, and children have ears and eyes too sometimes, and I saw her watching you tonight with a very sad expression. Nonsense, exclaimed Mr. Dinsmore, growing very red and looking extremely vexed. I wouldn't have such thoughts put into the child's head for any money. Are you sure of it, Trevilla? I am sure she was watching you very closely tonight, and looking very miserable. Poor darling, murmured the father. Thank you, Trevilla, shaking his friend heartily by the hand. Good night, I shall not be down again, if you will be so good as to excuse me to the others. And he went up the stairs almost at a bound, and the next moment was standing beside his sleeping child, looking anxiously down at the little flushed cheeks and tear-swollen eyes. For, disappointed that he did not come to bid her good night, she had cried herself to sleep. Poor darling, he murmured again, as he stooped over her and kissed away a tear that still trembled on her eyelash. He longed to tell her that all her fears were groundless, that none other could ever fill her place in his heart, but he did not like to wake her. And so, pressing another light kiss on her cheek, he left her to dream on unconscious of his visit. End of Chapter Fifteenth End of Elsie Dinsmore by Martha Finlay Read by Kalinda in Lüneburg, Germany, on February 15, 2009