CHAPTER XVIII.
What thou bidst, Unargued I obey; so God ordained.
--MILTON.
"I hope you don't intend to hurry this child away from me, Horace?"remarked Miss Stanhope inquiringly, glancing from him to Elsie, as shepoured out the tea.
"I'm afraid I must, Aunt Wealthy," he answered, taking his cup fromher hand, "I can't do without her any longer, and mamma and littlebrother want her almost as badly."
"And what am I to do?" cried Miss Stanhope, setting down the teapot,and dropping her hands into her lap. "It just makes a baby of me tothink how lonely the old house will seem when she's gone. You'd gether back soon, for 'tisn't likely I've got long to live, if you'd onlygive her to me, Horace."
"No, indeed, Aunt Wealthy; she's a treasure I can't spare to anyone. She belongs to me, and I intend to keep her," turning upon hisdaughter a proud, fond look and smile, which was answered by one ofsweet, confiding affection.
"Good-evening!" cried a gay, girlish voice. "Mr. Dinsmore, I'd bedelighted to see you, if I didn't know you'd come to rob us of Elsie."
"What, you too ready to abuse me on that score, Miss Lottie?" he saidlaughingly, as he rose to shake hands with her. "I think I ratherdeserve thanks for leaving her with you so long."
"Well, I suppose you do. Aunt Wealthy, papa found some remarkablyfine peaches in the orchard of one of his patients, and begs you willaccept this little basketful."
"Why, they're beautiful, Lottie!" said the old lady, rising and takingthe basket from her hand. "You must return my best thanks to yourfather. I'll set them on the table just so. Take off your hat, child,and sit down with us. There's your chair all ready to your plate,and Phillis's farmer's fresh fruit-cake, to tempt you, and thecream-biscuits that you are so fond of, both."
"Thank you," said Lottie, partly in acknowledgment of the invitation,partly of Mr. Travilla's attention, as he rose and gallantly handedher to her seat, "I can't find it in my heart to resist so manytemptations."
"Shall I bring a dish for de peaches, mistis?" asked Chloe, who waswaiting on the table.
"Yes."
"Oh, let us have them in that old-fashioned china fruit-basket I'vealways admired so much, Aunt Wealthy!" cried Lottie eagerly. "I don'tbelieve Elsie has seen it at all."
"No, so she hasn't; but she shall now," said the old lady, hasteningtoward her china-closet. "There, Aunt Chloe, just stand on the dish,and hand down that chair from this top shelf. Or, if you would,Horace, you're taller, and can reach better. I'm always like thesycamore tree that was little of stature, and couldn't see Zaccheustill he climbed into it."
"Rather a new and improved version of the Bible narrative, aunt, isn'tit?" asked Mr. Dinsmore, with an amused look, as he came toward her."And I fear I'm rather heavy to stand on a dish; but will use thechair instead, if you like."
"Ah! I've put the horse before the cart as usual, I see;" she said,joining good-humoredly in the laugh the others found it impossibleto suppress. "It's an old trick of my age, that increases with myadvancing youth, till I sometimes wonder what I'm coming to; the wordswill tangle themselves up in the most troublesome fashion; but if youknow what I mean, I suppose it's all the same."
"Why, Aunt Wealthy, this is really beautiful," said Mr. Dinsmore,stepping from the chair with the basket, in his hand.
"Yes, it belonged to your great-grandmother, Horace, and I prize ithighly on that account. No, Aunt Chloe, I shall wipe it out and putthe peaches into it myself; it will take but a moment, and it's tooprecious a relic to trust to any other hands than my own."
Lottie was apparently in the gayest spirits, enlivening the littleparty with many a merry jest and light, silvery laugh, enjoying thegood things before her, and gratifying her hostess with praises oftheir excellence. Yet through it all she was furtively watching herfriends, and grieved to notice the unwonted paleness of her cheek, thetraces of tears about her eyes, that her cheerfulness was assumed,and that if she ate anything it was only from a desire to please herfather, who seemed never to forget her for a moment, and to be a gooddeal troubled at her want of appetite. In all these signs Lottie readdisappointment of Egerton's hopes, and of Elsie's, so far as he wasconcerned.
"So I suppose her father has commanded her to give him up," she saidto herself. "Poor thing! I wonder if she means to be as submissive asshe thought she would."
The two presently slipped away together into the garden, leaving thegentlemen conversing in the sitting-room, and Miss Stanhope busiedwith some household care.
"You poor dear, I am so sorry for you!" whispered Lottie, putting herarm about her friend. "Must you really quite give him up?"
"Papa says so," murmured Elsie, vainly struggling to restrain hertears.
"Is it that he believes Mr. Travilla was not mistaken?"
"Yes, and--and he has heard some other things against him, and thinkshis explanation of Mr. Travilla's mistake quite absurd. Oh, Lottie, hewill not even allow us one parting interview and says I am never tosee Mr. Egerton again, or hold any communication with him in any way.If I should meet him in the street I am not to recognize him; mustpass him by as a perfect stranger, not looking at him or permittinghim to see my face, if I can avoid doing so."
"And will you really submit to all that? I don't believe I could be sogood."
"I must; papa will always be obeyed."
"But don't you feel that it's very hard? doesn't it make you feelangry with your father and love him a little less?"
"I was angry for a little while this afternoon," Elsie acknowledgedwith a blush, "but I am sure I have no right to be; I know papa isacting for my good,--doing just what he believes will be most likelyto secure my happiness. He says it is to save me from a life ofmisery, and certainly it would be that to be united to such a man ashe believes Mr. Egerton is."
"But you don't believe it, Elsie?"
"No, no, indeed! I have not lost my faith in him yet, and I hope hemay some day be able to prove to papa's entire satisfaction that he isreally all that is good, noble, and honorable."
"That is right; hope on, hope ever."
"Ah, I don't know how we could live without hope," Elsie said, smilingfaintly through her tears. "But I ought not to be wretched--oh, veryfar from it, with so many blessings, so many to love me! Papa's lovealone would brighten life very much to me. And then," she added in alower tone, "'that dearer Friend that sticketh closer than a brother,'and who has promised, 'I will never leave thee nor forsake thee.'"
"And He will keep His promise, child," said Aunt Wealthy, joining themin the arbor where they had seated themselves. "I have proved Hisfaithfulness many times, and I know that it never fails. Elsie, dear,your old auntie would save you from every trial, but He is a far wiserand truer friend, and will cause all things to work together for yourgood, and never allow you to suffer one unneeded pang." She softlystroked her niece's sunny hair, as she spoke, and the kind old facewas full of pitying tenderness.
"Come back to the house now, dears," she added, "I think the dew isbeginning to fall, and I heard my nephew asking for his daughter."
"How much longer may we hope to keep you, Elsie?" Lottie asked as theywended their way toward the house.
"Papa has set Monday evening for the time of leaving."
"And this is Friday; so we shall have but two more rides together. Oh,dear! how I shall miss you when you're gone."
"And I you. I shall never forget what pleasant times we have hadtogether; Aunt Wealthy and you and I. You musn't let her miss me toomuch, Lottie." And Elsie turned an affectionate look upon her agedrelative.
"As if I could prevent it! But I'll do my best; you may rest assuredof that."
"You are dear girls, both of you," said Miss Stanhope with a veryperceptible tremble in her voice, "and you have brightened my homewonderfully; if I could only keep you!"
"Well, auntie, you're not likely to lose me altogether for some timeyet," returned Lottie gayly, though the tears shone in her eyes.
Bromly Egerton went out from Mr. D
insmore's presence with his temperat a white heat, for he had just been treated to some plain truthsthat were far from palatable; besides which it seemed evident that hehad missed the prize he so coveted and had made such strenuous effortsto win. He had learned nothing new in regard to his own character, yetsomehow it had never looked so black as now, when seen through thespectacles of an upright, honest, vice-detesting Christian gentleman.He writhed at the very recollection of the disgust, loathing, andcontempt expressed in Mr. Dinsmore's voice and countenance as well asin his words.
He scarcely gave a thought to the loss of Elsie herself: he had nofeeling for her at all worthy of the name of love; his base, selfishnature was, indeed, hardly capable of such a sentiment; especiallytoward one so refined, so guileless in her childlike innocence andpurity that to be with her gave him an uncomfortable sense of his ownmoral inferiority.
No, the wounds under which he smarted were all stabs given to hisself-love and cupidity. He had learned how honest men looked upon him;and he had failed in the cherished expectation of laying hishands upon a great fortune, which he had fondly hoped to have theopportunity of spending.
Rushing into the street, boiling with rage and shame, he hurriedonward, scarcely knowing or caring whither he went; out into the opencountry, and on through woods and over hills he tramped, nor thoughtof turning back till the sun had set, and darkness began to creepabout his path.
There was light in Miss Stanhope's parlor and strains of richmelody greeted his ear as he passed. He turned away with a mutteredimprecation, crossed the street, and entered Mrs. Schilling's gate.She was sitting on her doorstep, resting after her day's work, andenjoying the cool evening air.
"Why, la me Mr. Egerton! is that you?" she cried, starting up, andstepping aside for him to pass in. "I'd really begun to think you waslost. The fire's been put and everything cleaned away this two hours.I kep' the table a-waitin' for you a right smart spell, but finallycome to the conclusion that you must 'a' stayed to Miss Stanhope's orsomeone else, to tea."
"No, I've not had supper," he answered gruffly.
"You haint, eh? and I 'spose you're hungry, too. Well, sit down, andI'll hunt up something or 'nother. But I'm afraid you'll get thedyspepsy eatin' so late; why, it's nigh on to ten o'clock; and I wasjust a-thinking' about shutting' up and going off to bed."
"Well, you'll not be troubled with me long. I shall leave the place ina few days."
"Leave Lansdale, do you mean?"
"Yes."
"Why, what's up?"
"The time I had appropriated to rest and recreation. Business mencan't play forever."
"Well, I shouldn't wonder. And Mr. Dinsmore's come after his daughter,too."
"What's that got to do with it?" he muttered. But she had left theroom and was out of hearing.
Before closing his eyes in sleep that night, Egerton resolved to makea moving appeal to Elsie herself. He would write and find some meansby which to get the letter into her hands. Directly after breakfasthe sat down to his task, placing himself in a position to constantlyoverlook Miss Stanhope's house and grounds. He was hoping to getsight of Elsie, and anxious to watch Mr. Dinsmore's movements. Mrs.Schilling had informed him that "Miss Stanhope's friends didn't expectto leave till sometime a Monday; so she had learned from Phillis,through Lenwilla Ellawea, who had been sent over for a little ofPhillis's light'ning, to raise some biscuits for breakfast," yet hehad some fear that the information might prove unreliable, and Mr.Dinsmore slip away with his daughter that day.
That fear was presently relieved by seeing Simon bringing out thehorses for the young ladies, and shortly after a livery-stable manleading up two fine steeds, evidently intended for the use of thegentlemen. He now laid down his pen, and kept close watch for a fewmoments, when he was rewarded by seeing the whole party come out,mount, and ride away; Mr. Dinsmore beside his daughter, Mr. Travillawith Lottie. Elsie, however, was so closely veiled that he could notso much as catch a glimpse of her face.
With a muttered oath, he took up his pen again, feeling more desirousthan ever to outwit "that haughty Southerner," and secure the prize inspite of him.
Half an hour afterward Simon, who was at work gathering corn andtomatoes for dinner in the garden behind the house, heard some onecalling softly to him from the other side of the fence. Turning hishead, he saw Mr. Egerton standing there, motioning to him to drawnear.
"Good-mornin', sah. What you want, sah?" inquired the lad, settingdown his basket, and approaching the fence that separated them.
"Do you know what this is?" asked Egerton, holding up a smallglittering object.
"Yes, sah; five-dollar gold piece, sah," replied the negro, bowing andchuckling. "What de gentleman want dis niggah do for to arn 'em?"
"To put this into Miss Dinsmore's hands," answered Egerton, showinga letter; "into her own hands, now, mind. If you do that, the fivedollars are yours; and if you bring me an answer, I'll make it ten.But you are to manage it so that no one else shall see what you do. Doyou understand?"
"Yes, sah, and I bet I do it up about right, sah."
Very anxious to win the coveted reward, Simon was careful to be onhand when the riding party returned. He stationed himself near Elsie'shorse. Her father assisted her to alight, and as he turned to make aremark to Lottie, Simon, being on the alert, managed to slip the noteinto Elsie's hand, unperceived by Mr. Dinsmore, or the others.
She gave a start of surprise, turning her eyes inquiringly upon him,the rich color rushing all over her fair face and neck; as he couldsee, even through the folds of her thick veil.
Simon grinned broadly, as, by a nod and wink toward the opposite sideof the street, he indicated whence the missive had come.
She turned and walked quickly toward the house, her heart beating veryfast and loud, and her fingers tightly clasping the note underneaththe folds of her long riding-skirt, as she held it up. She hurriedto her room, shut and locked the door, and, throwing off her hat andveil, dropped into a seat, trembling in every limb with the agitationand excitement of her feelings. She longed intently to know what hehad said to her; but she had never deceived or wilfully disobeyed herfather, and should she begin now? The temptation was very great, andperhaps she would have yielded; but Mr. Dinsmore's step came quicklyup the stairs, and the next moment he rapped lightly on the door.
She rose and opened it, at the same time slipping the note into herpocket.
"Why, my darling, what is the matter?" he asked, looking muchconcerned at the sight of her pale, agitated countenance.
"Oh, papa, if you would let me! if you only would!" she cried,bursting into tears, and putting her arms coaxingly about his neck.
"Let you do what, my child?" he asked, stroking her hair.
"Read this," she said, in a choking voice, taking the note from herpocket. "Oh, if you knew how much I want to! Mayn't I, papa? do, dearpapa, say yes."
"No, Elsie; it grieves me to deny you, but it must go back unopened.Give it to me."
She put it into his hand and turned away with a sob.
"How did it come into your hands?" he inquired, going to herwriting-desk for an envelope, pen and ink.
"Must I tell you, papa?" she asked; in a tone that spoke reluctance togive the information he required.
"Certainly."
"Simon gave it to me a few moments since."
He touched the bell, and, Chloe appearing in answer, bade her takethat note to the house on the opposite side of the street.
"There is no message," he added; "it is directed to Mr. Egerton, andyou have nothing to do but hand it in at the door."
"Yes, sah." And with a sorrowful, pitying glance at the wet eyes ofher young mistress, the faithful old creature left the room.
"My poor little daughter, you feel now that your father is verycruel," Mr. Dinsmore said tenderly, taking Elsie in his arms again,"but some day you will thank me for all this."
She only laid her face down on his breast and cried bitterly, while hesoothed her with caresses and words of father
ly endearment.
"Oh, papa, don't be vexed with me," she murmured at length. "I'mtrying not to be rebellious, but it seems so like condemning himunheard."
"No, my child, it is not. I gave him the opportunity to refute thecharges against him, but he has no proof to bring."
"Papa, he said it would break his heart to lose me," she cried with afresh burst of grief.
"My dear child, he has no heart to break. If he could get possessionof your property, he would care very little indeed what became ofyou."
Mr. Dinsmore spoke very decidedly, but, though silenced, Elsie was notconvinced.
Egerton, watching through the half-closed blinds of his bed-room, hadseen, with a chuckle of delight, the success of Simon's manoeuvre,and Elsie hurrying into the house; for the purpose--he had scarcelya doubt--of secretly reading and answering his note. He saw Chloecrossing the street, and thought that her young mistress had sent hima hasty line, perhaps to appoint the time and place of a clandestinemeeting; for such confidence had he in his own powers of fascinationfor all the fair sex, that he could not think it possible she couldgive him up without a struggle.
Lenwilla went to the door, and in his eagerness to receive the messagehe ran out and met her on the landing. What was his disappointment andchagrin at sight of the bold, masculine characters on the outside, andonly his own handwriting within!
"Sent back unopened! The girl must be a fool!" he cried, fairlygnashing his teeth with rage. "She could have managed it easilyenough; she had the best chance in the world, for he didn't see hertake it, I know."
He considered a moment, put on his hat, and, walking over to Dr.King's, inquired for Miss Lottie.
"Jist walk intil the parlor, sir," said Bridget, "an' I'll call theyoung lady."
Lottie came to him presently, with her kind face full of regret andsympathy.
He told his tale, produced his note, and begged her to be hismessenger, saying he supposed Mr. Dinsmore had come upon Elsie beforeshe had time to read it, and he thought it hard for both her andhimself that she should not have the chance.
"Yes," said Lottie, "but I am very sure she would not read it withouther father's permission, and you may depend upon it, she showed it tohim of her own accord."
He shook his head with an incredulous smile. "Do you really think shehas so little sense? Or is it that you believe she too has turnedagainst me?"
"No, she has not turned against you, she believes in you still; nor isshe wanting in sense; but she is extremely conscientious about obeyingher father, and told me she meant to be entirely submissive, whateverit cost her."
"I can hardly think you are right," he said, with another of hisincredulous smiles, "but even supposing she was silly enough to handmy note over to her father, I should like to give her an opportunityto retrieve her error, so won't you undertake"--
"Don't ask me to carry it to her," interrupted Lottie. "It would goagainst my conscience to tempt Elsie to do violence to hers, I doassure you, though I have no idea I should be successful. So youreally must excuse me."
He tried argument and persuasion by turns, but Lottie stood firm inher refusal, and at length he went away, evidently very angry.
Lottie spent the evening with her friend, and when a fittingopportunity offered gave her an account of this interview withEgerton, Elsie telling her in return something of what had passedbetween her father and herself in regard to the note.
That Egerton had desired to tempt her to disobedience and deceptiondid not tend to increase Elsie's esteem and admiration for him, butquite the reverse.
"I think he'll not prevent me from getting sight of her to-day,"muttered Egerton, stationing himself at the front window the nextmorning, as the hour for church drew near.
He had not been there long, when he saw Miss Stanhope and Mr.Travilla, then Mr. Dinsmore and Elsie, come out of the house and crossthe lawn. He made a hasty exit and was in the act of opening Mrs.Schilling's front gate as the latter couple reached the one opposite.
"Put down your veil, Elsie; take my arm; and don't look toward thatman at all," commanded her father, and she obeyed.
Egerton kept opposite to them all the way to the church, but withoutaccomplishing his object. He followed them in and placed himself in apew on the other side of the aisle, and a little nearer the front thanMiss Stanhope's, so that, by turning half way round, he could lookinto the faces of its occupants. But Elsie kept hers partly concealedby her veil, and never once turned her eyes in his direction.
She was seated next her father, who seemed to watch her almostconstantly--not with the air of a jailer, but with a sort of tender,protecting care, as one keeping guard over something belonging to him,and which he esteemed very sweet and precious,--while now and thenher soft eyes were lifted to his for an instant with a look of lovingreverence.
"Poor Elsie was well watched to-day," remarked Nettie King to hersister as they walked home together; "her father scarcely took hiseyes off her for five consecutive minutes, I should think; and Mr.Egerton stared at her from the time he came in till the benedictionwas pronounced."
"Yes, I thought he was decidedly rude."
"Isn't Mr. Dinsmore excessively strict and exacting?"
"Yes, I think so; yet he dotes on her, and she on him. I never saw afather and daughter so completely wrapped up in each other."
They were now within sight of their own home, and Miss Stanhope's.
"Just look!" cried Nettie, "I do believe Egerton means to forcehimself upon their notice and compel Elsie to speak to him."
He was crossing the street so as to meet them face to face, just atthe gate, giving them no chance to avoid the rencontre.
"Good-morning, Miss Dinsmore," he said in a loud, cordial tone ofgreeting, as they neared each other.
Elsie started and tightened her grasp of her father's arm, but neitherlooked up nor spoke.
"My daughter acknowledges no acquaintance with you, sir," answered Mr.Dinsmore, haughtily, and Egerton turned and strode angrily away.
"There, Elsie, you see what he is; his behavior is anything butgentlemanly," remarked her father, opening the gate for her to passin. "But you need not tremble so, child; there is nothing to fear."