CHAPTER EIGHTH.
"He that pursues an act that is attended With doubtful issues, for the means, had need Of policy and force to make it speed." --T. NABB's _Unfortunate Mother._
"Joy never feasts so high, As when the first course is of misery." --SUCKLING's _Aglaura._
It was Friday, and the next morning was the when the reports were to bepresented. School had closed, and all but Elsie had already left theroom; but she was carefully arranging the books, writing and drawingmaterials, etc., in her desk, for she was very neat and orderly in herhabits.
When she had quite finished her work she took up her report-book, andglanced over it. As her eye rested for an instant upon the one badmark, she sighed a little, and murmured to herself, "I am _so_ sorry; Iwish papa knew how little I really deserved it. I don't know why Inever can get the courage to tell him."
Then, laying it aside, she opened her copy-book and turned over theleaves with unalloyed pleasure, for not one of its pages was defaced bya single blot, and from beginning to end it gave evidence ofpainstaking carefulness and decided improvement.
"Ah! surely _this_ will please dear papa!" she exclaimed, half aloud."How good Aunt Adelaide was to sit here with me!"
Then, putting it carefully in its place, she closed and locked thedesk, and carrying the key to her room, laid it on the mantel, whereshe was in the habit of keeping it.
Now it so happened that afternoon that Arthur, who had made himselfsick by over-indulgence in sweetmeats, and had in consequence beenlounging about the house doing nothing for the last day or two,remained at home while all the rest of the family were out, walking,riding, or visiting.
He was not usually very fond of reading, but while lying on the loungein the nursery, very much in want of some amusement, it suddenlyoccurred to him that he would like to look at a book he had seen Elsiereading that morning.
To be sure the book belonged to her, and she was not there to beconsulted as to her willingness to lend it; but that made no differenceto Arthur, who had very little respect for the rights of property,excepting where his own were concerned.
Elsie, he knew, was out, and Chloe in the kitchen; so, feeling certainthere would be no one to interfere with him, he went directly to thelittle girl's room to look for the book. He soon found it lying on themantel; but the desk-key lay right beside it, and as he caught sight ofthat he gave a half scream of delight, for he guessed at once to whatlock it belonged, and felt that he now could accomplish the revenge hehad plotted ever since the affair of the watch.
He put out his hand to take it, but drew it back again, and stood for amoment balancing in his mind the chances of detection.
He could deface Elsie's copy-book, but Adelaide could testify to thelittle girl's carefulness and the neatness of her work up to that veryday, for she had been in the school-room that morning during thewriting hour. But then Adelaide had just left home to pay a visit to afriend living at some distance, and would not return for several weeks,so there was little danger from that quarter. Miss Day, to be sure,knew the appearance of Elsie's book quite as well, but there was stillless danger of her interference, and he was pretty certain no one elseknew.
So he decided to run the risk, and laying down the book he took thekey, went to the door, looked carefully up and down the hall to makesure of not being seen by any of the servants, and having satisfiedhimself on that point, hurried to the school-room, unlocked Elsie'sdesk, took out her copy-book, and dipping a pen in the ink, proceededdeliberately to blot nearly every page in it; on some he made a largeblot, on others a small one, and on some two or three; and alsoscribbled between the lines and on the margin, so as completely todeface poor Elsie's work.
But to do Arthur justice, though he knew his brother would be prettysure to be very angry with Elsie, he did not know of the threatenedpunishment. He stopped once or twice as he thought he heard a footstep,and shut down the lid until it had passed, when he raised it again andwent on with his wicked work. It did not take long, however, and hesoon replaced the copy-book in the precise spot in which he had foundit, wiped the pen, and put it carefully back in its place, relocked thedesk, hurried back to Elsie's room, put the key just where he had foundit, and taking the book, returned to the nursery without having met anyone.
He threw himself down on a couch and tried to read, but in vain; hecould not fix his attention upon the page--could think of nothing butthe mischief he had done, and its probable consequences; and now, whenit was too late, he more than half repented; yet as to confessing andthus saving Elsie from unmerited blame, he did not for a single momententertain the thought. But at length it suddenly occurred to him thatif it became known that he had been into Elsie's room to get the bookhe might be suspected; and he started up with the intention ofreplacing it. But he found that it was too late; she had alreadyreturned, for he heard her voice in the hall; so he lay down again, andkept the book until she came in search of it.
He looked very guilty as the little girl came in, but not seeming tonotice it, she merely said, "I am looking for my book. I thoughtperhaps some one might have brought it in here. Oh! _you_ have it,Arthur! well, keep it, if you wish; I can read it just as well anothertime."
"Here, take it," said he roughly, pushing it toward her; "I don't wantit; 'tisn't a bit pretty."
"I think it is very interesting, and you are quite welcome to read itif you wish," she answered mildly; "but if you don't care to, I willtake it."
"Young ladies and gentlemen," said the governess, as they were aboutclosing their exercises the next morning, "this is the regular day forthe reports, and they are all made out. Miss Elsie, here is yours;bring your copy-book, and carry both to your papa."
Elsie obeyed, not without some trembling, yet hoping, as there was but_one_ bad mark in the report and the copy-book showed such evidentmarks of care and painstaking, her papa would not be very seriouslydispleased.
It being the last day of the term, the exercises of the morning hadvaried somewhat from the usual routine, and the writing hour had beenentirely omitted; thus it happened that Elsie had not opened hercopy-book, and was in consequence still in ignorance of its sadlyaltered appearance.
She found her father in his room. He took the report first from herhand, and glancing over it, said with a slight frown, "I see you haveone _very_ bad mark for recitation; but as there is only one, and theothers are remarkably good, I will excuse it."
Then taking the copy-book and opening it, much to Elsie's surprise andalarm he gave her a glance of great displeasure, turned rapidly overthe leaves, then laying it down, said in his sternest tones, "I see Ishall have to keep my promise, Elsie."
"What, papa?" she asked, turning pale with terror.
"_What!_" said he! "do you ask me what? Did I not tell you _positively_that I would _punish_ you if your copy-book this month did not presenta better appearance than it did last?"
"O papa! does it not? I tried so very hard; and there are no blots init."
"No blots?" said he; "what do you call these?" and he turned over theleaves again, holding the book so that she could see them, and showingthat almost every one was blotted in several places.
Elsie gazed at them in unfeigned astonishment; then looking up into hisface, she said earnestly but fearfully, "Papa, I did not do it."
"Who did, then?" he asked.
"Indeed, papa, I do not know," she replied.
"I must inquire into this business," he said, rising, "and if it is notyour fault you shall not be punished; but if I find you have beentelling me a falsehood, Elsie, I shall punish you much more severelythan if you had not denied your fault."
And taking her by the hand as he spoke, he led her back to theschool-room.
"Miss Day," said he, showing the book, "Elsie says these blots are nother work; can you tell me whose they are?"
"Miss Elsie _generally_ tells the truth, sir," replied Miss Day,sarcastically, "but I must say that in
this instance I think she hasfailed, as her desk has a good lock, and she herself keeps the key."
"Elsie," he asked, turning to her, "is this so?"
"Yes, papa."
"And have you ever left your desk unlocked, or the key lying about?"
"No, papa. I am quite certain I have not," she answered unhesitatingly,though her voice trembled, and she grey very pale.
"Very well, then, _I_ am quite certain you have told me a falsehood,since it is evident this _must_ have been your work. Elsie, I canforgive anything but falsehood, but that I _never will_ forgive. Comewith me. I shall teach you to speak the truth to _me_ at least, if tono one else," and taking her hand again, he led, or rather dragged, herfrom the room, for he was terribly angry, his face fairly pale withpassion.
Lora came in while he was speaking and, certain that _Elsie_ wouldnever be caught in a falsehood, her eye quickly sought Arthur's desk.
He was sitting there with a very guilty countenance.
She hastily crossed the room, and speaking in a low tone, said,"Arthur, _you_ have had a hand in this business I very well know; nowconfess it quickly, or Horace will half kill Elsie."
"You don't know anything about it," said he doggedly.
"Yes, I do," she answered; "and if you do not speak out at once, _I_shall save Elsie, and find means to prove your guilt afterwards; so youhad much better confess."
"Go away," he exclaimed angrily, "I have nothing to confess."
Seeing it was useless to try to move him, Lora turned away and hurriedto Horace's room, which, in her haste, she entered without knocking, hehaving fortunately neglected to fasten the door. She was just in time;he had a small riding whip in his hand, and Elsie stood beside him paleas death, too much frightened even to cry, and trembling so that shecould scarcely stand.
He turned an angry glance on his sister as she entered; but taking nonotice of it, she exclaimed eagerly, "Horace, don't punish Elsie, for Iam certain she is innocent."
He laid down the whip asking, "_How_ do you know it? what _proof_ haveyou? I shall be very glad to be convinced," he added, his countenancerelaxing somewhat in its stern and angry expression.
"In the first place," replied his sister, "there is Elsie's establishedcharacter for truthfulness--in all the time she has been with us, wehave ever found her perfectly truthful in word and deed. And then,Horace, what motive could she have had for spoiling her book, knowingas she did that certain punishment would follow? Besides, I am sureArthur is at the bottom of this, for though he will not acknowledge, hedoes not deny it. Ah! yes, and now I recollect, I saw and examinedElsie's book only yesterday, and it was then quite free from blots."
A great change had come over her brother's countenance while she wasspeaking.
"Thank you, Lora," he said, cordially, as soon as she had done, "youhave quite convinced me, and saved me from punishing Elsie as unjustlyas severely. That last assurance I consider quite sufficient of itselfto establish her innocence."
Lora turned and went out feeling very happy, and as she closed thedoor, Elsie's papa took her in his arms, saying in loving, tendertones, "My poor little daughter! my own darling child! I have beencruelly unjust to you, have I not?"
"Dear papa, you thought I deserved it," she said, with a burst of tearsand sobs, throwing her arms around his neck, and laying her head on hisbreast.
"Do you love me, Elsie, dearest?" he asked, folding her closer to hisheart.
"Ah! so very, _very_ much! better than all the world beside. O papa! ifyou would only love me." The last word was almost a sob.
"I do, my darling, my own precious child," he said, caressing her againand again. "I do love my little girl, although I may at times seem coldand stern; and I am more thankful than words can express that I havebeen saved from punishing her unjustly. I could never forgive myself ifI had done it. I would rather have lost half I am worth; ah! I fear itwould have turned all her love for me into hatred; and justly, too."
"No, papa, oh! no, _no; nothing_ could ever do that!" and the littlearms were clasped closer and closer about his neck, and the tears againfell like rain, as she timidly pressed her quivering lips to his cheek.
"There, there daughter! don't cry any more; we will try to forget allabout it, and talk of something else," he said soothingly. "Elsie,dear, your Aunt Adelaide thinks perhaps you were not so very much toblame the other day; and now I want you to tell me all thecircumstances; for though I should be very sorry to encourage you tofind fault with your teacher, I am by no means willing to have youabused."
"Please, papa, don't ask me," she begged. "Aunt Lora was there, and shewill tell you about it."
"No, Elsie," he said, very decidedly; "I want the story from _you_; andremember, I want _every word_ that passed between you and Miss Day, asfar as you can possibly recall it."
Seeing that he was determined, Elsie obeyed him, though with evidentreluctance, and striving to put Miss Day's conduct in as favorable alight as consistent with truth, while she by no means extenuated herown; yet her father listened with feelings of strong indignation.
"Elsie," he said when she had done, "if I had known all this at thetime, I should not have punished you at all. Why did you not tell me,my daughter, how you have been ill treated and provoked?"
"O papa! I could not; you know you did not ask me."
"I did ask you if it was true that you contradicted her, did I not?"
"Yes, papa, and it was true."
"You ought to have told me the whole story though; but I see how itwas--I frightened you by my sternness. Well, daughter," he added,kissing her tenderly, "I shall endeavor to be less stern in future, andyou must try to be less timid and more at your ease with me."
"I will, papa," she replied meekly; "but indeed I cannot help feelingfrightened when you are angry with me."
Mr. Dinsmore sat there a long time with his little daughter on hisknee, caressing her more tenderly than ever before; and Elsie was veryhappy, and talked more freely to him than she had ever done, tellinghim of her joys and her sorrows; how dearly she had loved MissAllison--what happy hours they had spent together in studying the Bibleand in prayer--how grieved she was when her friend went away--and howintensely she enjoyed the little letter now and then received from her;and he listened to it all, apparently both pleased and interested,encouraging her to go on by an occasional question or a word of assentor approval.
"What is this, Elsie?" he asked, taking hold of the chain she alwayswore around her neck, and drawing the miniature from her bosom.
But as he touched the spring the case flew open, revealing the sweet,girlish face, it needed not Elsie's low murmured "Mamma" to tell himwho that lovely lady was.
He gazed upon it with emotion, carried back in memory to the time whenfor a few short months she had been his own most cherished treasure.Then, looking from it to his child, he murmured, "Yes, she is verylike--the same features, the same expression, complexion, hair andall--will be the very counterpart of her if she lives."
"Dear papa, am I like mamma?" asked Elsie, who had caught a part of hiswords.
"Yes, darling, very much indeed, and I hope you will grow more so."
"You loved mamma?" she said inquiringly.
"Dearly, _very_ dearly."
"O papa! _tell_ me about her! _do_, dear papa," she pleaded eagerly.
"I have not much to tell," he said, sighing. "I knew her only for a fewshort months ere we were torn asunder, never to meet again on earth."
"But we may hope to meet her in heaven, dear papa," said Elsie softly,"for she loved Jesus, and if we love Him we shall go there too when wedie. Do you love Jesus, papa?" she timidly inquired, for she had seenhim do a number of things which she knew to be wrong--such as ridingout for pleasure on the Sabbath, reading secular newspapers, andengaging in worldly conversation--and she greatly feared he did not.
But instead of answering her question, he asked, "Do you, Elsie?"
"Oh! yes, sir; very _very_ much; even better than I love you, my owndear papa.
"
"How do you know?" he asked, looking keenly into her face.
"Just as I know that I love you, papa, or any one else," she replied,lifting her eyes to his face in evident surprise at the strangeness ofthe question.
"Ah, papa," she added in her own sweet, simple way, "I do so love totalk of Jesus; to tell Him all my troubles, and ask Him to forgive mysins and make me holy; and then it is so sweet to know that He lovesme, and will _always_ love me, even if no one else does."
He kissed her very gravely, and set her down, saying, "Go now, mydaughter, and prepare for dinner; it is almost time for the bell."
"You are not displeased, papa?" she inquired, looking up anxiously intohis face.
"No, darling, not at all," he replied, stroking her hair. "Shall I ridewith my little girl this afternoon?"
"Oh papa! do you really mean it? I shall be so glad!" she exclaimedjoyfully.
"Very well, then," he said, "it is settled. But go now; there is thebell. No, stay!" he added quickly, as she turned to obey; "think amoment and tell me where you put the key of your desk yesterday, for itmust have been then the mischief was done. Had you it with you when yourode out?"
Suddenly Elsie's face flushed, and she exclaimed Eagerly, "Ah! Iremember now! I left it on the mantelpiece, papa, and--"
But here she paused, as if sorry she had said so much.
"And what?" he asked.
"I think I had better not say it, papa! I'm afraid I _ought_ not, for Idon't really _know_ anything, and it seems so wrong to suspect people."
"You need not express any suspicions," said her father; "I do not wishyou to do so; but I must insist upon having all the facts you canfurnish me with. Was Aunt Chloe in your room all the time you wereaway?"
"No, sir; she told me she went down to the kitchen directly after Ileft, and did not come up again until after I returned."
"Very well; do you know whether any one else entered the room duringyour absence?"
"I do not _know_, papa, but I _think_ Arthur must have been in, becausewhen I came home I found him reading a book which I had left lying onthe mantel-piece," she answered in a low, reluctant tone.
"Ah, ha! that is just it! I see it all now," he exclaimed, with asatisfied nod. "There, that will do, Elsie; go now and make haste downto your dinner."
But Elsie lingered, and, in answer to a look of kind inquiry from herfather, said coaxingly, "Please, papa, don't be very angry with him. Ithink he did not know how much I cared about my book."
"You are very forgiving, Elsie; but go, child, I shall not abuse him,"Mr. Dinsmore answered, with an imperative gesture, and the little girlhurried from the room.
It happened that just at this time the elder Mr. Dinsmore and his wifewere paying a visit to some friends in the city, and thus Elsie's papahad been left head of the house for the time. Arthur, knowing this tobe the state of affairs, and that though his father was expected toreturn that evening, his mother would be absent for some days, wasbeginning to be a good deal fearful of the consequences of hismisconduct, and not without reason, for his brother's wrath was nowfully aroused, and he was determined that the boy should not on thisoccasion escape the penalty of his misdeeds.
Arthur was already in the dining-room when Mr. Dinsmore came down.
"Arthur," said he, "I wish you to step into the library a moment; Ihave something to say to you."
"I don't want to hear it," muttered the boy, with a dogged look, andstanding perfectly still.
"I dare say not, sir; but that makes no difference," replied hisbrother. "Walk into the library at once."
Arthur returned a scowl of defiance, muttering almost under his breath,"I'll do as I please about that;" but cowed by his brother's determinedlook and manner, he slowly and reluctantly obeyed.
"Now, sir," said Mr. Dinsmore, when he had him fairly in the room, andhad closed the door behind them, "I wish to know how you came to meddlewith Elsie's copy-book."
"I didn't," was the angry rejoinder.
"Take care, sir; I know all about it," said Mr. Dinsmore, in a warningtone; "it is useless for you to deny it. Yesterday, while Elsie was outand Aunt Chloe in the kitchen, you went to her room, took the key ofher desk from the mantel-piece where she had left it, went to theschool-room and did the mischief, hoping to get her into troublethereby, and then relocking the desk and returning the key to itsproper place, thought you had escaped detection; and I was very neargiving my poor, innocent little girl the whipping you so richlydeserve."
Arthur looked up in astonishment.
"Who told you?" he asked; "nobody saw me;" then, catching himself, saidhastily, "I tell you I didn't do it. I don't know anything about it."
"Will you dare to tell me such a falsehood as that again?" exclaimedMr. Dinsmore, angrily, taking him by the collar and shaking him roughly.
"Let me alone now," whined the culprit. "I want my dinner, I say."
"You'll get no dinner to-day, I can tell you," replied his brother. "Iam going to lock you into your bedroom, and keep you there until yourfather comes home; and then if _he_ doesn't give you the flogging youdeserve, _I_ will; for I intend you shall have your deserts for once inyour life. I know that all this is in revenge for Elsie's forcedtestimony in the affair of the watch, and I gave you fair warning thenthat I would see to it that any attempt to abuse my child shouldreceive its just reward."
He took the boy by the arm as he spoke, to lead him from the room.
At first Arthur seemed disposed to resist; but soon, seeing how uselessit was to contend against such odds, he resigned himself to his fate,saying sullenly, "You wouldn't treat me this way if mamma was at home."
"She is not, however, as it happens, though I can tell you that even_she_ could not save you now," replied his brother, as he opened thebedroom door, and pushing him in, locked it upon him, and put the keyin his pocket.
Mr. Horace Dinsmore had almost unbounded influence over his father, whowas very proud of him; the old gentleman also utterly despisedeverything mean and underhanded, and upon being made acquainted byHorace with Arthur's misdemeanors he inflicted upon him as severe apunishment as any one could have desired.