CHAPTER XIII.
"Hitherto hath the Lord helped us."--1 SAMUEL 7:12.
It was a lovely Sabbath afternoon, still and bright; Elsie sat alone onthe veranda, enjoying the beauty of the sea and the delicious breezecoming from it. She had been reading, and the book lay in her lap, onehand resting upon the open page; but she was deep in meditation, hereyes following the restless movements of the waves that, with the risingtide, dashed higher and higher upon the beach below.
For the last half hour she had been the solitary tenant of the veranda,while the others enjoyed their siesta or a lounge upon the beach.
Presently a noiseless step drew near her chair, some one bent down overher and softly kissed her cheek.
"Papa" she said, looking up into his face with smiling eyes, "you havecome to sit with me? Let me give you this chair," and she would haverisen to do so, but he laid his hand on her shoulder, saying, "No; sitstill; I will take this," drawing up another and seating himself thereinclose at her side.
"Do you know that I have been watching you from the doorway there forthe last five minutes?" he asked.
"No, sir; I deemed myself quite alone," she said. "Why did you not letme know that my dear father, whose society I prize so highly, was sonear?"
"Because you seemed so deep in thought, and evidently such happythought, that I was loath to disturb it."
"Yes," she said, "they were happy thoughts. I have seemed to myself, forthe last few days, to be in the very land of Beulah, so delightful hasbeen the sure hope--I may say certainty--that Jesus is mine and I amHis; that I am His servant forever, for time and for eternity, as trulyand entirely His as words can express. Is it not a sweet thought, papa?is it not untold bliss to know that we may--that we shall serve Himforever? that nothing can ever separate us from the love of Christ?"
"It is, indeed--Christ who is our life. He says, 'Because I live, yeshall live also;' thus He is our life. Is He not our life also becauseHe is the dearest of all friends to us--His own people?"
"Yes; and how the thought of His love, His perfect sympathy, Hisinfinite power to help and to save, gives strength and courage to facethe unknown future. 'The Lord is my light and my salvation; whom shallI fear? the Lord is the strength of my life; of whom shall I be afraid?''Surely, goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life.'
"In view of the many dangers that lie around our every path, the manyterrible trials that may be sent to any one of us, I often wonder howthose who do not trust in this almighty Friend can have the least real,true happiness. Were it my case, I should be devoured with anxiety andfears for myself and my dear ones."
"But as it is," her father said, gazing tenderly upon her, "you are ableto leave the future, for them and for yourself, in His kind, wise,all-powerful hands, knowing that nothing can befall you without Hiswill, and that He will send no trial that shall not be for your good,and none that He will not give you strength to endure?"
"Yes, that is it, papa; and oh, what rest it is! One feels so safe andhappy; so free from fear and care; like a little child whose lovingearthly father is holding it by the hand or in his strong, kind arms."
"And you have loved and trusted Him since you were a very little child,"he remarked, half musingly.
"Yes, papa; I cannot remember when I did not; and could there be agreater cause for gratitude?"
"No; such love and trust are worth more to the happy possessor than thewealth of the universe. But there was a time when, though my little girlhad it, I was altogether ignorant of it, and marvelled greatly at herlove for God's word and her joy and peace in believing. I shall nevercease to bless God for giving me such a child."
"Nor I to thank Him for my dear father," she responded, putting her handinto his, with the very same loving, confiding gesture she had been wontto use in childhood's days.
His fingers closed over it, and he held it fast in a warm, loving grasp,while they continued their talk concerning the things that lay nearesttheir hearts--the love of the Master, His infinite perfection, theinterests of His kingdom, the many great and precious promises of Hisword--thus renewing their strength and provoking one another to love andto good works.
"Then they that feared the Lord spake often one to another; and the Lordhearkened, and heard it; and a book of remembrance was written beforeHim for them that feared the Lord, and that thought upon His name.
"And they shall be mine, saith the Lord of hosts, in that day when Imake up my jewels; and I will spare them, as a man spareth his own sonthat serveth him."
Ere another week had rolled its round, events had occurred which testedthe sustaining power of their faith in God, and the joy of the Lordproved to be indeed their strength, keeping their hearts from failing inan hour of sore anxiety and distress.
The evening was bright with the radiance of a full moon and unusuallywarm for the season; so pleasant was it out of doors that most of ourfriends preferred the veranda to the cottage parlors, and some of theyounger ones were strolling about the town or the beach.
Betty had gone down to the latter place, taking Lulu with her, with thecaptain's permission, both promising not to go out of sight of home.
"Oh, how lovely the sea is to-night, with the moon shining so brightlyon all the little dancing waves!" exclaimed Lulu, as they stood side byside close to the water's edge.
"Yes," said Betty; "doesn't it make you feel like going in?"
"Do people ever bathe at night?" asked Lulu.
"I don't know why they shouldn't," returned her companion.
"It might be dangerous, perhaps," suggested Lulu.
"Why should it?" said Betty; "it's almost as light as day. Oh, Bob,"perceiving her brother close at hand, "don't you want to go in? I willif you will go with me."
"I don't care if I do," he answered, after a moment's reflection: "amoonlight bath in the sea would be something out of the common; andthere seems to be just surf enough to make it enjoyable."
"Yes; and my bathing-suit is in the bath-house yonder. I can be ready infive minutes."
"Can you? So can I; we'll go in if only for a few minutes. Won't you gowith us, Lulu?"
"I'd like to," she said, "but I can't without leave; and I know papawouldn't give it, for I had a bath this morning, and he says one a dayis quite enough."
"I was in this morning," said Bob; "Betty, too, I think, and--I say,Bet, it strikes me I've heard that it's a little risky to go in atnight."
"Not such a night as this, I'm sure, Bob; why, it's as light as day; andif there is danger it can be only about enough to give spice to theundertaking."
With the last word she started for the bath-house, and Bob, not to beoutdone in courage, hurried toward another appropriated to his use.
Lulu stood waiting for their return, not at all afraid to be left alonewith not another creature in sight on the beach. Yet the solitudedisturbed her as the thought arose that Bob and Betty might be about toput themselves in danger, while no help was at hand for their rescue.The nearest she knew of was at the cottages on the bluff, and for her toclimb those long flights of stairs and give the alarm in case anythingwent wrong with the venturesome bathers, would be a work of time.
"I'd better not wait for them to get into danger, for they would surelydrown before help could reach them," she said to herself, after amoment's thought. "I'll only wait till I see them really in, and thenhurry home to see if somebody can't come down and be ready to help ifthey should begin to drown."
But as they passed her, presently, on their way to the water, Bob said:"We're trusting you to keep our secret, Lulu; don't tell tales on us."
She made no reply, but thought within herself, "That shows he doesn'tthink he's doing exactly right. I'm afraid it must be quite dangerous."
But while his remark and injunction increased her apprehensions forthem, it also made her hesitate to carry to their friends the news oftheir escapade till she should see that it brought them into actualdanger and need of assistance.
She watched them tremblingly as
they waded slowly out beyond the surfinto the smooth, swelling waves, where they began to swim.
For a few moments all seemed to be well; then came a sudden shrill cryfrom Betty, followed by a hoarser one from Bob, which could mean nothingelse than fright and danger.
For an instant Lulu was nearly paralyzed with terror; but rousingherself by a determined effort, she shouted at the top of her voice,"Don't give up; I'll go for help as fast as ever I can," and instantlyset off for home at her utmost speed.
"Help, help! they'll drown, oh, they'll drown!" she screamed as she ran.
Harold, who was in the act of descending the last flight of stairs, sawher running toward him, and heard her cry, though the noise of the surfprevented his catching all the words.
"What's the matter?" he shouted, clearing the remainder of the flight ata bound.
"Betty, Bob--drowning!" she cried, without slackening her speed, "I'mgoing for help."
He waited, to hear no more, but sped on toward the water; and onlypausing to divest himself of his outer clothing, plunged in, and,buffeting with the waves, made his way as rapidly as possible toward thestruggling forms, which, by the light of the moon, he could dimlydiscern at some distance from the shore.
Faint cries for help and the gleam of Betty's white arm, as for aninstant she raised it above the wave, guided him to the spot.
Harold was an excellent swimmer, strong and courageous; but he hadundertaken a task beyond his strength, and his young life was very nearfalling a sacrifice to the folly of his cousins and his own generousimpulse to fly to their aid.
Both Bob and Betty were already so nearly exhausted as to be scarcelycapable of doing anything to help themselves, and in their mad strugglefor life caught hold of him and so impeded his movements that he waslike to perish with them.
Mean while Lulu had reached the top of the cliff, then the veranda wherethe older members of the family party were seated, and, all out ofbreath with fright and the exertion of climbing and running, shefaltered out, "Bob and Betty; they'll drown if they don't get helpquickly."
"What, are they in the water?" cried Mr. Dinsmore and Captain Raymond,simultaneously springing to their feet; the latter adding, "I fearthey'll drown before we can possibly get help to them."
"Oh, yes; they're drowning now," sobbed Lulu; "but Harold's gone to helpthem."
"Harold? He's lost if he tries it alone!" "The boy's mad to think ofsuch a thing!" exclaimed Mr. Dinsmore and Edward in a breath, whileElsie's cheek turned deathly pale, and her heart went up in an agonizedcry that her boy's life might be spared; the others also.
The gentlemen held a hasty consultation, then scattered, Mr. Dinsmorehastening in search of other aid, while Captain Raymond and Edwardhurried to the beach, the ladies following with entreaties to them to becareful.
But fortunately for the endangered ones, other aid had already reachedthem--a boat that had come out from Nantucket for a moonlight sail, andfrom the shore a noble Newfoundland dog belonging to a retired seacaptain. Strolling along the beach with his master, he heard the criesfor help, saw the struggling forms, and instantly plunging in among thewaves, swam to the rescue.
Seizing Betty by the hair, he held her head above water till thesailboat drew near and strong arms caught hold of her and dragged herin, pale, dripping, and seemingly lifeless.
They then picked up the young men, both entirely unconscious, and madefor the shore with all possible haste.
It was doubtful if the last spark of life had not been extinguished inevery one of the three; but the most prompt, wise, and vigorous measureswere instantly taken and continued for hours--hours of agonizingsuspense to those who loved them.
At length Bob gave unmistakable signs of life; and shortly after Bettysighed, opened her eyes, and asked, feebly, "Where am I? what hashappened?"
But Harold still lay as one dead, and would have been given up as suchhad not his mother clung to hope, and insisted that the efforts atrestoration should be continued.
Through the whole trying scene she had maintained an unbroken calmnessof demeanor, staying herself upon her God, lifting her heart to Histhrone in never-ceasing petitions, and in the midst of her bitter griefand anxiety rejoicing that if her boy were taken from her for a time, itwould be but to exchange the trials and cares of earth for the joys ofheaven; and the parting from him here would soon be followed by ablissful reunion in that blessed land where sin and sorrow and sufferingcan never enter.
But at length, when their efforts were rewarded so that he breathed andspoke, and she knew that he was restored to her, the reaction came.
She had given him a gentle, tender kiss, had seen him fall into anatural, refreshing sleep, and passing from his bedside into anadjoining room, she fainted in her father's arms.
"My darling, my dear, brave darling!" he murmured, as he laid her downupon a couch and bent over her in tenderest solicitude, while Mrs.Dinsmore hastened to apply restoratives.
It was not a long faint; she presently opened her eyes and lifted themwith a bewildered look up into her father's face.
"What is it, papa?" she murmured; "have I been ill?"
"Only a short faint," he answered. "But you must be quite worn out."
"Oh, I remember!" she cried. "Harold, my dear son--"
"Is doing well, love. And now I want you to go to your bed and try toget some rest. See, day is breaking, and you have had no sleep, norest."
"Nor have you, papa; do go and lie down; but I must watch over my poorboy," she said, trying to rise from the couch.
"Lie still," he said, gently detaining her; "lie here, if you are notwilling to go to your bed. I am better able to sit up than you are, andwill see to Harold."
"His brothers are with him, mamma," said Zoe, standing by; "and Edwardsays they will stay beside him as long as they are needed."
"Then you and I will both retire and try to take some rest, shall wenot?" Mr. Dinsmore asked, bending over Elsie and softly smoothing herhair.
"Yes, papa; but I must first take one peep at the dear son so nearlylost to me."
He helped her to rise; then she perceived that Captain Raymond andViolet were in the room.
"Dearest mamma," said the latter, coming forward to embrace her, "howglad I am that you are better, and our dear Harold spared to us!" Shebroke down in sobs and tears.
"Yes, my child; oh, let us thank the Lord for His great goodness! Butthis night has been quite too much for you. Do you go at once and try toget some rest."
"I shall see that she obeys, mother," the captain said, in a tenderlysportive tone, taking Elsie's hand and lifting it to his lips.
"I think I may trust you," she returned, with a faint smile. "You werewith Bob; how is he now?"
"Doing as well as possible under the circumstances; as is Betty also;you need trouble your kind heart with no fear or care for them."
It had been a terrible night to all the family--the children the onlyones who had taken any rest or sleep--and days of nursing followedbefore the three who had so narrowly escaped death were restored totheir wonted health and strength.
Mr. and Mrs. Dinsmore and Elsie devoted themselves to that work, andwere often assisted in it by Zoe, Edward, and Herbert.
Harold was quite a hero with these last and with Max and Lulu; in fact,with all who knew or heard of his brave deed, though he modestlydisclaimed any right to the praises heaped upon him, asserting that hehad done no more than any one with common courage and humanity wouldhave done in his place.
Bob and Betty were heartily ashamed of their escapade, and much soberedat the thought of their narrow escape from sudden death. Both dreadedthe severe reproof they had reason to expect from their uncle, but hewas very forbearing, and thinking the fright and suffering entailed bytheir folly sufficient to deter them from a repetition of it, kindlyrefrained from lecturing them on the subject, though, when a suitableopportunity offered, he did talk seriously and tenderly, with now oneand now the other, on the guilt and danger of putting off repentancetoward God,
and faith toward our Lord Jesus Christ, reminding them thatthey had had a very solemn warning of the shortness and uncertainty oflife, and asking them to consider the question whether they were readyfor a sudden call into the immediate presence of their Judge.
"Really now, uncle," remarked Bob on one of these occasions, "there areworse fellows in the world than I am--much worse."
"I am willing to admit that, my boy," returned Mr. Dinsmore; "but manyof those fellows have not enjoyed the privileges and teachings that youhave, and responsibility is largely in proportion to one's light andopportunities.
"Jesus said, 'That servant, who knew his Lord's will, and prepared nothimself, neither did according to His will, shall be beaten with manystripes. But he that knew not, and did commit things worthy of stripes,shall be beaten with few stripes.'"
"Yes; and you think I'm one of the first class, I suppose?"
"I do, my boy; for you have been well instructed, both in the church andin the family; also you have a Bible, and may study it for yourself asoften and carefully as you will."
"But I really have never done anything very bad, uncle."
"How can you say that, Robert, when you know that you have lived allyour life in utter neglect of God's appointed way of salvation? hearingthe gracious invitation of Him who died that you might live, 'Come untome,' and refusing to accept it?
"'God so loved the world that He gave His only-begotten Son, thatwhosoever believeth in Him should not perish, but have everlastinglife,' and having for years refused to believe, how can you assert thatyou have done nothing very bad? 'How shall we escape, if we neglect sogreat salvation?'"
Bob made no reply, but looked thoughtful, and his uncle went quietlyfrom the room, thinking it well to leave the lad to his own reflections.
Passing the door of the room where Harold lay, he was about to enter,but perceiving that the boy and his mother were in earnest conversation,he moved on, leaving them undisturbed.
"Mamma," Harold was saying, "I have been thinking much of sudden deathsince my very narrow escape from it. You know, mamma, it comes sometimeswithout a moment's warning; and as we all sin continually in thought andfeeling, if not in word and deed, as our very best deeds and servicesare so stained with sin that they need to be repented of and forgiven,how is it that even a true Christian can get to heaven if called away sosuddenly?"
"Because when one comes to Jesus Christ and accepts His offeredsalvation, _all_ his sins, future as well as past and present, areforgiven. 'The blood of Jesus Christ, His Son, cleanseth us from allsin.'
"Jesus said, 'He that believeth on the Son hath everlasting life.' 'Igive unto them eternal life; and they shall never perish, neither shallany man pluck them out of my hand.'"
"But oh, mamma, I find myself so weak and sinful, so ready to yield totemptation, that I sometimes fear I shall never be able to hold out tothe end!"
"My dear boy, let that fear lead you to cling all the closer to theMaster, who is able to save unto the uttermost. If our holding outdepended upon ourselves, our own weak wills, we might well be indespair; but 'He will keep the feet of His saints.'
"'Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, who, accordingto His abundant mercy, hath begotten us again unto a lively hope by theresurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead, to an inheritanceincorruptible and undefiled, and that fadeth not away, reserved inheaven for you, who are kept by the power of God through faith untosalvation.' Can they be in danger who are _kept by the power of God_?"
CHAPTER XIV.
"My Father's house on high, Home of my soul, how nearAt times to Faith's discerning eye Thy pearly gates appear."
Harold and his cousins had scarcely more than fully recovered from theeffects of their almost drowning when Captain Raymond again receivedorders to join his ship, and it was decided that the time had come forall to leave the island.
Bob and Betty received letters from their brother and sister inLouisiana, giving them a cordial invitation to their homes, Dickproposing that Bob should study medicine with him, with a view tobecoming his partner, and Molly giving Betty a cordial invitation fromherself and husband to take up her residence at Magnolia Hall.
With the approval of their uncle and other relatives, these kind offerswere promptly accepted.
Letters came about the same time from Lansdale, Ohio, inviting theDinsmores, Travillas, and Raymonds to attend the celebration of MissStanhope's one hundredth birthday, which was now near at hand.
Mr. Harry Duncan wrote for her, saying that she had a great longing tosee her nephews and nieces once more, and to make the acquaintance ofViolet's husband and his children.
The captain could not go, but it was decided that all the others should.The necessary arrangements were quickly made, and the whole party leftthe island together, not without some regret and a resolution to returnat some future day to enjoy its refreshing breezes and other delightsduring the hot season.
On reaching New York they parted with the captain, whose vessel lay inthat harbor.
Bob and Betty left them farther on in the journey, and the remainder ofthe little company travelled on to Lansdale, arriving the day before theimportant occasion which called them there.
Mrs. Dinsmore's brother, Richard Allison, who, my readers may remember,had married Elsie's old friend, Lottie King, shortly after the close ofthe war of the rebellion, had taken up his abode in Lansdale years ago.
Both he and his sister May's husband, Harry Duncan, had prosperedgreatly. Each had a large, handsome dwelling adjacent to Miss Stanhope'scottage, in which she still kept house, having never yet seen the timewhen she could bring herself to give up the comfort of living in a homeof her own.
She had attached and capable servants, and amid her multitude of niecesand grand-nieces, there was almost always one or more who waswilling--nay, glad, to relieve her of the care and labor ofhousekeeping, taking pleasure in making life's pathway smooth and easyto the aged feet, and her last days bright and happy.
She still had possession of all her faculties, was very active for oneof her age, and felt unabated interest in the welfare of kindred andfriends. She had by no means outlived her usefulness or grown querulouswith age, but was ever the same bright, cheerful, happy Christian thatshe had been in earlier years.
The birthday party was to be held under her own roof, and a numerouscompany of near and dear relatives were gathering there and at thehouses of the Duncans and Allisons.
Richard and Lottie, Harry and May were at the depot to meet the train onwhich our travellers arrived.
It was an altogether joyous meeting, after years of separation.
The whole party repaired at once to Miss Stanhope's cottage, to greetand chat a little with her and others who had come before to thegathering; prominently among them Mr. and Mrs. Keith from PleasantPlains, Indiana, with their daughters, Mrs. Landreth, Mrs. Ormsby, andAnnis, who was still unmarried.
Very glad indeed were Mrs. Keith and Mr. Dinsmore, Rose and Mildred,Elsie and Annis to meet and renew the old intimacies of former days.
Time had wrought many changes since we first saw them together, morethan thirty years ago. Mr. and Mrs. Keith were now old and infirm, yetbright and cheery, looking hopefully forward to that better country,that Celestial City, toward which they were fast hastening, and with nounwilling steps. Dr. and Mrs. Landreth and Mr. and Mrs. Dinsmore hadchanged from youthful married couples into elderly people, while Elsieand Annis had left childhood far behind, and were now--the one a cheery,happy maiden lady, whom aged parents leaned upon as their stay andstaff, brothers and sisters dearly loved, and nieces and nephews doatedupon; the other a mother whom her children blessed for her faithful loveand care, and delighted to honor.
This renewal of intercourse, and the reminiscences of early days whichit called up, were very delightful to both.
The gathering of relatives and friends of course formed far too large acompany for all to lodge in one house, but the three--Aunt Wealthy's andthose of the Duncans and Allisons--ac
commodated them comfortably forthe few days of their stay, or rather the nights, for during the daythey were very apt to assemble in the parlors and porches of thecottage.
It was there Elsie and her younger children and Violet and hers took uptheir quarters, by invitation, for the time of the visit.
"But where is the captain, your husband?" inquired Aunt Wealthy ofViolet on giving her a welcoming embrace. "I wanted particularly to seehim, and he should not have neglected the invitation of a woman ahundred years old."
"Dear auntie, I assure you he did so only by compulsion; he would havecome gladly if Uncle Sam had not ordered him off in another direction,"Violet answered, with pretty playfulness of look and tone.
"Ah, then, we must excuse him. But you brought the children, I hope. Iwant to see them."
"Yes; this is his son," Violet said, motioning Max to approach; "andhere are the little girls," drawing Lulu and Grace forward.
The old lady shook hands with and kissed them, saying, "It will besomething for you to remember, dears, that you have seen a woman who haslived a hundred years in this world, and can testify that goodness andmercy have followed her all the days of her life. Trust in the Lord, mychildren, and you, even if you should live as long as I have, will beable to bear the same testimony that He is faithful to His promises.
"I say the same to you, too, Rosie and Walter, my Elsie's children," sheadded, turning to them with a tenderly affectionate look and smile.
They gazed upon her with awe for a moment; then Rosie said, "You don'tlook so very old, Aunt Wealthy; not older than some ladies of eightythat I've seen."
"Perhaps not older than I did when I was only eighty, my dear; but I amglad to know that I am a good deal nearer home now than I was then,"Miss Stanhope responded, her face growing bright with joyousanticipation.
"Are you really glad to know you must die before very long?" asked Max,in wonder and surprise.
"Wouldn't it be strange if I were not?" she asked; "heaven is my home.
"'There my best friends, my kindred dwell,There God my Saviour reigns.'
"I live in daily, hourly longing expectation of the call."
"And yet you are not weary of life? you are happy here, are you not,dear Aunt Wealthy?" asked Mrs. Keith.
"Yes, Marcia; I am happy among my kind relatives and friends; andentirely willing to stay till the Master sees fit to call me home, for Iknow that His will is always best. Oh, the sweet peace and joy oftrusting in Him and leaving all to His care and direction! Who that hasexperienced it could ever again want to choose for him or herself?"
"And you have been long in His service, Aunt Wealthy?" Mr. Dinsmoresaid, half in assertion, half inquiringly.
"Since I was ten years old, Horace; and that is ninety years; and let mebear testimony now, before you all, that I have ever found Him faithfulto His promises, and His service growing constantly sweeter and sweeter.And so it shall be to all eternity. 'My soul doth magnify the Lord, andmy spirit hath rejoiced in God my Saviour.'"
Then turning to Mrs. Keith, "How is it with you, Marcia?" she asked;"you have attained to your four-score years, and have been in theservice since early childhood. What have you to say for your Masternow?"
"Just what you have said, dear aunt; never have I had cause to repent ofchoosing His service; it has been a blessed service to me, full of joyand consolation--joy that even abounds more and more as I draw nearerand nearer to my journey's end.
"I know it is the same with my husband," she added, giving him a lookof wifely affection; "and I doubt not with my cousins--Horace, Rose,Elsie--with all here present who have had experience as soldiers andservants of Jesus Christ."
"In that you are entirely right, Marcia," responded Mr. Dinsmore; "I canspeak for myself, my wife, and daughter."
Both ladies gave an unqualified confirmation of his words, while theirhappy countenances testified to the truth of the assertion.
"And, Milly dear, you and your husband, your brothers and sisters, canall say the same," remarked Miss Stanhope, laying her withered handaffectionately upon Mrs. Landreth's arm as she sat in a low seat by herside.
"We can indeed," Mildred said, with feeling. "What blessed people weare! all knowing and loving the dear Master, and looking forward to aneternity of bliss together at His right hand."
The interview between the aged saint and her long-absent relatives wascontinued for a few moments more; then she dismissed them, with theremark that doubtless they would all like to retire to their rooms for alittle, and she must take a short rest in order to be fresh for theevening, when she hoped they would all gather about her again.
"I want you all to feel at home and to enjoy yourselves as much as youcan," she said, in conclusion. "Play about the grounds, children,whenever you like."
Her cottage stood between the houses of the Duncans and Allisons; thegrounds of all three were extensive, highly cultivated, and adorned withbeautiful trees, shrubbery, and flowers, and there were no separatingfences or hedges, so that they seemed to form one large park or garden.
Rosie and Walter Travilla, and the young Raymonds were delighted withthe permission to roam at will about these lovely grounds, and hastenedto avail themselves of it as soon as the removal of the dust of traveland a change of attire rendered them fit.
They found a Dutch gardener busied here and there, and presently openeda conversation with him, quite winning his heart by unstinted praises ofthe beauty of his plants and flowers.
"It must be a great deal of work to keep those large gardens in suchperfect order," remarked Rose.
"Dat it ish, miss," he said; "but I vorks pretty hard mineself, and myson Shakey, he gifs me von leetle lift ven he ton't pees too much inschool."
"Do you live here?" asked little Grace.
"Here in dis garten? no, miss; I lifs oud boud t'ree mile in decountry."
"That's a long walk for you, isn't it?" said Lulu.
"Nein; I don't valks, miss; ven I ish god dings to pring--abbles orbotatoes or some dings else--I say to mine Shakey, 'Just hitch deharness on de horse and hang him to de stable door;' or if I got nodingsto pring I tells de poy, 'Hitch him up a horseback;' den I comes in tomine vork and I tash! I don't hafs to valk--nod a shtep."
"How funny he talks," whispered Grace to Lulu; "I can hardly understandhim."
"It's because he's Dutch," returned Lulu, in the same low tone. "But Ican tell almost all he says. His son's name must be Jakey; the short forJacob."
"What is your name?" asked Max.
"Hencle--Shon Hencle. I dinks you all pees come to see Miss Stanhope pevon huntred years olt; ishn't you?"
"Yes," said Rosie. "It seems very wonderful to think that she has livedso long."
The children, weary with their journey, were sent to bed early thatnight. Lulu and Grace found they were to sleep together in a small roomopening into a larger one, where two beds had been placed for the timeto meet the unusual demand for sleeping quarters. These were to beoccupied by Grandma Elsie, Violet, Rosie, and Walter.
Timid little Grace heard, with great satisfaction, that all these wereto be so near; and Lulu, though not at all cowardly, was well pleasedwith the arrangement. Yet she little thought how severely her couragewas to be tested that night.
She and Grace had scarcely laid their heads upon their pillows ere theyfell into profound slumber. Lulu did not know how long she had slept,but all was darkness and silence within and without the house, whensomething, she could not have told what, suddenly roused her completely.
She lay still, trying to recall the events of the past day and rememberwhere she was; and just as she succeeded in doing so a strange sound, asof restless movements and the clanking of chains, came from beneath thebed.
Her heart seemed to stand still with fear; she had never before, in allher short life, felt so terrified and helpless.
"What can it be?" she asked herself. "An escaped criminal--amurderer--or a maniac from an insane asylum, I suppose; for who elsewould wear a clanking chain? and what can h
e want here but to killGracie and me? I suppose he got in the house before they shut the doorsfor the night, and hid under the bed till everybody should be fastasleep, meaning to begin then to murder and rob. Oh, I do wish I'dlooked under the bed while all the gentlemen were about to catch him andkeep him from hurting us! But now what shall I do? If I try to get outof the bed, he'll catch hold of my foot and kill me before anybody cancome; and if I scream for help, he'll do the same. The best plan is tolie as quiet as I can, so he'll think I'm still asleep; for maybe heonly means to rob, and not murder, if nobody wakes up to see what he'sabout and tell of him. Oh, I do hope Gracie won't wake! for she couldnever help screaming; and then he'd jump out and kill us both."
So with heroic courage she lay there, perfectly quiet and hardly movinga muscle for what seemed to her an age of suffering, every momentexpecting the creature under the bed to spring out upon her, and inconstant fear that Grace would awake and precipitate the calamity by ascream of affright.
All was quiet again for some time, she lying there, straining her earsfor a repetition of the dreaded sounds; then, as they came again louderthan before, she had great difficulty in restraining herself fromspringing from the bed and shrieking aloud, in a paroxysm of panicterror.
But she did control herself, lay perfectly still, and allowed not theslightest sound to escape her lips.
That last clanking noise had awakened Elsie, and she too now lay wideawake, silent and still, while intently listening for a repetition ofit. She hardly knew whence the sound had come, or what it was; but whenrepeated, as it was in a moment or two, she was satisfied that it issuedfrom the room where Lulu and Grace were, and her conjectures in regardto its origin coincided with Lulu's.
She, too, was greatly alarmed, but did not lose her presence of mind.Hoping the little girls were still asleep, and judging from the silencethat they were, she lay for a few minutes without moving, indeedscarcely breathing, while she tried to decide upon the wisest course topursue, asking guidance and help from on high, as she always did inevery emergency.
Her resolution was quickly taken; slipping softly out of bed, she stolenoiselessly from the room and into another, on the opposite side of thehall, occupied by Edward and Zoe.
"Edward," she said, speaking in a whisper close to his ear, "wake, myson; I am in need of help."
"What is it, mother?" he asked, starting up.
"Softly," she whispered; "make no noise, but come with me. Somebody orsomething is in the room where Lulu and Gracie sleep. I distinctly heardthe clanking of a chain."
"Mother!" he cried, but hardly above his breath, "an escaped lunatic,probably! Stay here and let me encounter him alone. I have loadedpistols--"
"Oh, don't use them if you can help it!" she cried.
"I shall not," he assured her, "unless it is absolutely necessary."
He snatched the weapons from beneath his pillow as he spoke, and wentfrom the room, she closely following.
At the instant that they entered hers a low growl came from the innerroom, and simultaneously they exclaimed, "A dog!"
"Somewhat less to be feared than a lunatic, unless he should be mad,which is not likely," added Edward, striking a light.
Lulu sprang up with a low cry of intense relief. "O Grandma Elsie, it'sonly a dog, and I thought it a crazy man or a wicked murderer!"
As she spoke the animal emerged from his hiding-place and walked intothe outer room, dragging his chain after him.
Edward at once recognized him as a large mastiff Harry Duncan had shownhim the previous afternoon.
"It's Mr. Duncan's dog," he said; "he must have broken his chain andcome in unobserved before the house was closed for the night. Here,Nero, good fellow, this way! You've done mischief enough for one night,and we'll send you home."
He led the way to the outer door, the dog following quite peaceably,while Elsie, hearing sobs coming from the other room, hastened in tocomfort and relieve the frightened children.
Grace still slept on in blessed unconsciousness; but she found Lulucrying hysterically, quite unable to continue her efforts atself-control, now that the necessity for it was past.
"Poor child!" Elsie said, folding her in her kind arms, "you have had aterrible fright, have you not?"
"Yes, Grandma Elsie; oh, I've been lying here so long, _so long_,thinking a murderer or crazy man was under the bed, just ready to jumpout and kill Gracie and me!" she sobbed, clinging convulsively aboutElsie's neck.
"And did not scream for help! What a brave little girl you are!"
"I wanted to, and, oh, I could hardly keep from it! But I thought if Idid it would wake Gracie and scare her to death, and the man would besure to jump out and kill us at once."
"Dear child," Elsie said, "you have shown yourself thoughtful, brave,and unselfish; how proud your father will be of his eldest daughterwhen he hears it!"
"O Grandma Elsie, do you think he will? How glad that would make me! Itwould pay for all the dreadful fright I have had," Lulu said, her tonestremulous with joy, as, but a moment ago, they had been with nervousnessand fright.
"I am quite sure of it," Elsie answered, smoothing the little girl'shair with caressing hand, "quite sure; because I know he loves you verydearly, and that he admires such courage, unselfishness, and presence ofmind as you have shown to-night."
These kind words did much to turn Lulu's thoughts into a new channel andthus relieve the bad effects of her fright. But Elsie continued for sometime longer her efforts to soothe her into calmness and forgetfulness,using tender, caressing words and endearments; then she left her, withan injunction to try to go immediately to sleep.
Lulu promised compliance, and, attempting it, succeeded far sooner thanshe had thought possible.
The whole occurrence seemed like a troubled dream when she awoke in themorning. It was a delicious day in early October, and as soon as dressedshe went into the garden, where she found John Hencle already at work,industriously weeding and watering his plants and flowers.
"Goot-morning, mine leetle mees," he said, catching sight of her, "Wasit so goot a night mit you?"
"No," she said, and went on to tell the story of her fright.
"Dot ish lige me," he remarked, phlegmatically, at the conclusion of hertale. "Von nighd I hears somedings what make me scare. I know notingswhat he ish; I shust hears a noise, an' I shumpt de bed out, and ran deshtairs down, and looked de window out, and it wasn't notings but aleetle tog going 'Bow wow.'"
"I don't think it was very much like my fright," remarked Lulu, indisgust; "it couldn't have been half so bad."
"Vell, maype not; but dat Nero ish a goot, kind tog; he bide dramps, butnefer dose nice leetle girl. Dis ish de great day when dose nice oldlady pees von huntred years old. What you dinks? a fery long dime tolive?"
"Yes; very long," returned Lulu, emphatically. "I wish I knew papa wouldlive to be that old, for then he'd be at home with us almost forty yearsafter he retires from the navy."
"Somebody ish call you, I dinks," said John, and at the same momentGrace's clear, bird-like voice came floating on the morning breeze,"Lulu, Lulu!" as her dainty little figure danced gayly down the gardenpath in search of her missing sister.
"Oh, there you are!" she exclaimed, catching sight of Lulu. "Come intoAunt Wealthy's house and see the pretty presents everybody has given herfor her hundredth birthday. She hasn't seen them yet, but she is goingto when she comes down to eat her breakfast."
"Oh, I'd like to see them!" exclaimed Lulu, and she and Grace trippedback to the house together, and on into the sitting-room, where, on alarge table, the gifts were displayed.
They were many, and some of them costly, for the old lady was very dearto the hearts of these relatives, and they were able as well as willingto show their affection in this substantial way.
There were fine paintings and engravings to adorn her walls; fine china,and glittering cut glass, silver and gold ware for her tables; vases forher mantels; richly-bound and illustrated books, whose literary contentswere wort
hy of the costly adornment, and various other things calculatedto give her pleasure or add to her ease and comfort.
She was not anticipating any such demonstration of affection--notexpecting such substantial evidences of the love and esteem in which shewas held--and when brought face to face with them was almost overcome,so that tears of joy and gratitude streamed from her aged eyes,
They were soon wiped away, however, and she was again her own bright,cheery self, full of thought and care for others--the kindest and mostgenial of hostesses.
She took the head of the breakfast-table herself, and poured the coffeefor her guests with her own hands, entertaining them the while withcheerful chat, and causing many a merry laugh with the old-time trippingof her tongue--a laugh in which she always joined with hearty relish.
"There is too much butter in this salt," she remarked. "It is some JohnHencle brought in this morning. I must see him after breakfast and bidhim caution his wife to use less."
But as they rose from the table John came in unsummoned, and carrying afine large goose under each arm.
Bowing low: "I ish come to pring two gooses to de von hundredthbirthday," he announced; "dey pees goot, peaceable pirds: I ish know demfor twenty years, and dey nefer makes no droubles."
A smile went round the little circle, but Miss Stanhope said, with avery pleased look, "Thank you, John; they shall be well fed, and I hopethey will like their new quarters. How is Jake doing? I haven't seenhim for some time."
"No; Shakey is go to school most days. I vants Shakey to knowssomedings."
"Yes, indeed; I hope Jakey is going to have a good education. But whatdo you mean to do with him after he is done going to school?"
"Vy, I dinks I prings mine Shakey to town and hangs him on to SheneralShmicdt and makes a brinting-office out of him."
"A printer, John? Well, that might be a very good thing if you don'tneed him to help you about the farm, or our grounds. I should think youwould, though."
"Nein, nein," said John, shaking his head; "'tis not so long as I vantsShakey to makes mit me a fence; put I tash! Miss Stanhope, he say heton't can know how to do it; and I says, 'I tash! Shakey, you peen goin'to school all your life, and you don't know de vay to makes a fenceyet.'"
"Not so very strange," remarked Edward, with unmoved countenance, "forthey don't teach fence-making in ordinary schools."
"Vell, den, de more's de bity," returned John, taking his departure. Butturning back at the door to say to Miss Stanhope, "I vill put dosegooses in von safe place."
"Any place where they can do no mischief, John," she answered,good-humoredly.
"Now, Aunt Wealthy," said Annis, "what can we do to make this wonderfulday pass most happily to you?"
"Whatever will be most enjoyable to my guests," was the smiling reply."An old body like me can ask nothing better than to sit and look on andlisten."
"Ah, but we would have you talk, too, auntie, when you don't find itwearisome!"
"What are you going to do with all your new treasures, Aunt Wealthy?"asked Edward; "don't you want your pictures hung and a place found foreach vase and other household ornament?"
"Certainly," she said, with a pleased look, "and this is the very time,while I have you all here to give your opinions and advice."
"And help," added Edward, "if you will accept it. As I am tall andstrong, I volunteer to hang the pictures after the place for each hasbeen duly considered and decided upon."
His offer was promptly accepted, and the work entered upon in a spiritof fun and frolic, which made it enjoyable to all.
Whatever the others decided upon met with Miss Stanhope's approval; shewatched their proceedings with keen interest, and was greatly delightedwith the effect of their labors.
"My dears," she said, "you have made my house so beautiful! and wheneverI look at these lovely things my thoughts will be full of the deargivers. I shall not be here long, but while I stay my happiness will bethe greater because of your kindness,"
"And the remembrance of these words of yours, dear aunt, will add toours," said Mr. Keith, with feeling.
"But old as you are, Aunt Wealthy," remarked Mr. Dinsmore, "it is quitepossible that some of us may reach home before you. It matters little,however, as we are all travelling the same road to the same happycountry, being children of one Father, servants of the same blessedMaster."
"And He shall choose all our changes for us," she said, "calling eachone home at such time as He sees best. Ah, it is sweet to leave all ourinterests in His dear hands, and have Him choose our inheritance forus!"
There was a pause in the conversation, while Miss Stanhope seemed lostin thought. Then Mrs. Keith remarked:
"You look weary, dear Aunt Wealthy; will you not lie down and rest for alittle?"
"Yes," she said, "I shall take it as the privilege of age, leaving youall to entertain yourselves and each other for a time."
At that Mr. Dinsmore hastened to give her his arm and support her to herbedroom, his wife and Mrs. Keith following to see her comfortablyestablished upon a couch, where they left her to take her rest.
The others scattered in various directions, as inclination dictated.
Elsie and Annis sought the grounds, and, taking possession of a rusticseat beneath a spreading tree, had a long, quiet talk, recallingincidents of other days, and exchanging mutual confidences.
"What changes we have passed through since our first acquaintance !"exclaimed Annis. "What careless, happy children we were then!"
"And what happy women we are now!" added Elsie, with a joyous smile.
"Yes; and you a grandmother! I hardly know how to believe it! You seemwonderfully young for that."
"Do I?" laughed Elsie. "I acknowledge that I feel young--that I havenever yet been able to reason myself into feeling old."
"Don't try; keep young as long as ever you can," was Annis's advice.
"It is what you seem to be doing," said Elsie, sportively, and with anadmiring look at her cousin. "Dear Annis, may I ask why it is you havenever married? It must certainly have been your own fault."
"Really, I hardly know what reply to make to that last remark," returnedAnnis, in her sprightly way. "But I have not the slightest objection toanswering your question. I will tell 'the truth, the whole truth, andnothing but the truth.' I have had friends and admirers among themembers of the other sex, but have never yet seen the man for love ofwhom I could for a moment think of leaving father and mother."
"How fortunate for them!" Elsie said, with earnest sincerity. "I knowthey must esteem it a great blessing that they have been able to keepone dear daughter in the old home."
"And I esteem myself blest indeed in having had my dear father andmother spared to me all these years," Annis said, with feeling. "What aprivilege it is, Elsie, to be permitted to smooth, some of theroughnesses from their pathway now in their declining years; to makelife even a trifle easier and happier than it might otherwise be tothem--the dear parents who so tenderly watched over me in infancy andyouth! I know you can appreciate it--you who love your father sodevotedly.
"But Cousin Horace is still a comparatively young man, hale and hearty,and to all appearance likely to live many years, while my parents areaged and infirm, and I cannot hope to keep them long." Her voice washusky with emotion as she concluded.
"Dear Annis," Elsie said, pressing tenderly the hand she held in hers,"you are never to lose them. They may be called home before you, but theseparation will be short and the reunion for eternity--an eternity ofunspeakable joy, unclouded bliss at the right hand of Him whom you alllove better than you love each other."
"That is true," Annis responded, struggling with her tears, "and thereis very great comfort in the thought; yet one cannot help dreading theparting, and feeling that death is a thing to be feared for one's dearones and one's self. Death is a terrible thing, Elsie."
"Not half so much so to me as it once was, dear cousin," Elsie said, ina tenderly sympathizing tone. "I have thought much lately on that sweettext, '
Precious in the sight of the Lord is the death of His saints;'and that other, 'He shall see of the travail of his soul, and shall besatisfied,' and the contemplation has shown me so much of the love ofJesus for the souls He has bought with His own precious blood and thejoyful reception He gives them, as one by one they are gathered home,that it seems to me the death of a Christian should hardly bring sorrowto any heart. Oh, it has comforted me much in my separation from thedear husband of my youth, and made me at times look almost eagerlyforward to the day when my dear Lord shall call me home and I shall seeHis face!"
"O Elsie," cried Annis, "I trust that day may be far distant, for manyhearts would be like to break at parting with you! But there isconsolation for the bereaved in the thoughts you suggest; and I shalltry to cherish them and forget the gloom of the grave and the dread, formyself and for those I love, of the parting."
They were silent for a moment; then Elsie said, as if struck by a suddenthought, "Annis, why should not you and your father and mother go homewith us and spend the fall and winter at Ion and Viamede?"
"I cannot think of anything more delightful!" exclaimed Annis, her facelighting up with pleasure; "and I believe it would be for their healthto escape the winter in our severer climate, for they are both subjectto colds and rheumatism at that season."
"Then you will persuade them?"
"If I can, Elsie. How kind in you to give the invitation!"
"Not at all, Annis; for in so doing I seek my own gratification as wellas theirs and yours," Elsie answered, with earnest sincerity. "Wepurpose going from here to Ion, and from there to Viamede, perhaps twomonths later, to spend the remainder of the winter. And you and yourfather and mother will find plenty of room and a warm welcome in bothplaces."
"I know it, Elsie," Annis said; "I know you would not say so if it werenot entirely true, and I feel certain of a great deal of enjoyment inyour loved society, if father and mother accept your kind invitation."
While these two conversed together thus in the grounds, a grand banquetwas in course of preparation in Miss Stanhope's house, under thesupervision of our old friends, May and Lottie. To it Elsie and Anniswere presently summoned, in common with the other guests.
When the feasting was concluded, and all were again gathered in theparlors, Elsie renewed her invitation already made to Annis, this timeaddressing herself to Mr. and Mrs. Keith.
They heard it with evident pleasure, and after some considerationaccepted.
Edward and Zoe returned to Ion the following day, Herbert and Haroldleaving at the same time for college. The rest of the Travillas, theDinsmores, and the Raymonds lingered a week or two longer with MissStanhope, who was very loath to part with them, Elsie in especial; thenbade farewell, scarce expecting to see her again on earth, and turnedtheir faces homeward, rejoicing in the promise of Mr. and Mrs. Keiththat they and Annis would soon follow, should nothing happen to prevent.
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