CHAPTER XIX.
Oh, what a feeble fort's a woman's heart, Betrayed by nature, and besieged by art.
--FANE'S "LOVE IN THE DARK."
"Dear child, what shall I do without you?" sighed Miss Stanhope,clasping Elsie in her arms, and holding her in a long, tender embrace;for the time of parting had come. "Horace, will you bring her to seeme again?"
"Yes, aunt, if she wants to come. But don't ask me to leave heragain."
"Well, if you can't stay with me, or trust her yourself, let Mr.Vanilla come and stand guard over us both. I'd be happy, sir, at anytime when you can make it convenient for me to see you here, withHorace and the child, or without them."
"Thank you, Miss Stanhope; and mother and I would be delighted to seeyou at Ion."
"Come, Elsie, we must go; the carriage is waiting and the train nearlydue," said Mr. Dinsmore. "Good-bye, Aunt Wealthy. Daughter, put downyour veil."
Egerton was at the depot, but could get neither a word with Elsie, norso much as a sight of her face. Her veil was not once lifted, andher father never left her side for a moment. Mr. Travilla bought thetickets, and Simon attended to the checking of the baggage. Then thetrain came thundering up, and the fair girl was hurried into it,Mr. Travilla, on one side, and her father on the other, effectuallypreventing any near approach to her person on the part of the baffledand disappointed fortune-hunter.
He walked back to his boarding-house, cursing his ill luck and Messrs.Dinsmore and Travilla, and gave notice to his landlady that his roomwould become vacant the next morning.
As the train sped onward, again Elsie laid her head down upon herfather's shoulder and wept silently behind her veil. Her feelings hadbeen wrought up to a high pitch of excitement in the struggle to beperfectly submissive and obedient, and now the overstrained nervesclaimed this relief. And love's young dream, the first, and sweetest,was over and gone. She could never hope to see again the man she stillfondly imagined to be good and noble, and with a heart full of deep,passionate love for her.
Her father understood and sympathized with it all. He passed his armabout her waist, drew her closer to him, and taking her hand in his,held it in a warm, loving clasp.
How it soothed and comforted her. She could never be very wretchedwhile thus tenderly loved, and cherished.
And, arrived at her journey's end, there were mamma and little brotherto rejoice over her return, as at the recovery of a long-lost,precious treasure.
"You shall never go away again," said the little fellow, hugging hertight. "When a boy has only one sister, he can't spare her to otherfolks, can he, papa?"
"No, son," answered Mr. Dinsmore, patting his rosy cheek, and softlystroking Elsie's hair, "and it is just the same with a man who has butone daughter."
"You don't look bright and merry, as you did when you went away," saidthe child, bending a gaze of keen, loving scrutiny upon the sweetface, paler, sadder, and more heavy-eyed than he had ever seen itbefore.
"Sister is tired with her journey," said mamma tenderly; "we won'ttease her to-night."
"Yes," said her father, "she must go early to bed, and have a longnight's rest."
"Yes, papa, and then she'll be all right to-morrow, won't she? But,mamma, I wasn't teasing her, not a bit; was I, Elsie? And if anybody'sbeen making her sorry, I'll kill him. 'Cause she's my sister, and I'vegot to take care of her."
"But suppose papa was the one who had made her sorry; what then?"asked Mr. Dinsmore.
"But you wouldn't, papa," said the boy, shaking his head with anincredulous smile. "You love her too much a great deal; you'd nevermake her sorry unless she'd be naughty; and she's never one bitnaughty,--always minds you and mamma the minute you speak."
"That's true, my son; I do love her far too well ever to grieve her ifit can be helped. She shall never know a pang a father's love and carecan save her from." And again his hand rested caressingly on Elsie'shead.
She caught it in both of hers and laying her cheek lovingly againstit, looked up at him with tears trembling in her eyes. "I know it,papa," she murmured. "I know you love your foolish little daughtervery dearly; almost as dearly as she loves you."
"Almost, darling? If there were any gauge by which to measure love, Iknow not whose would be found the greatest."
Mr. Dinsmore and his father-in-law had taken adjoining cottages forthe summer, and though "the season" was so nearly over that the hotelsand boarding-houses were but thinly populated and would soon close,the two families intended remaining another month. So this was in somesort a home-coming to Elsie.
After tea the Allisons flocked in to bid her welcome. All seemed gladof her coming, Richard, Harold, and Sophy especially so. They werefull of plans for giving her pleasure, and crowding the greatestpossible amount of enjoyment into the four or five weeks of theirexpected sojourn on the island.
"It will be moonlight next week," said Sophy; "and we'll have somedelightful drives and walks along the beach. The sea does look solovely by moonlight."
"And we'll have such fun bathing in the mornings," remarked Harold."You'll go in with us to-morrow, won't you, Elsie?"
"No," said Mr. Dinsmore, speaking for his daughter; "she must behere two or three days before she goes into the water. It will bealtogether better for her health."
Elise looked at him inquiringly.
"You get in the air enough of the salt water for the first few days,"he said. "Your system should become used to that before you takemore."
"Yes, that is what some of the doctors here, and the oldestinhabitants, tell us," remarked Mr. Allison, "and I believe it is thebetter plan."
"And in the meantime we can take some rides and drives,--down toDiamond Beach, over to the light-house, and elsewhere," said EdwardAllison, his brother Richard adding, "and do a little fishing andboating."
Mr. Dinsmore was watching his daughter. She was making an effort to beinterested in the conversation, but looking worn, weary, and sad.
"You are greatly fatigued, my child," he said. "We will excuse you andlet you retire at once."
She was very glad to avail herself of the permission.
Rose followed her to her room, a pleasant, breezy apartment, openingon a veranda, and looking out upon the sea, whose dark waves, hereand there tipped with foam, could be dimly seen rolling and tossingbeneath the light of the stars and of a young moon that hung like agolden crescent just above the horizon.
Elsie walked to the window and looked out. "How I love the sea," shesaid, sighing, "but, mamma, to-night it makes me think of a text--'AllThy waves and Thy billows have gone over me.'"
"It is not so bad as that, I hope, dear," said Rose, folding hertenderly in her arms; "think how we all love you, especially yourfather. I don't know how we could any of us do without you, darling. Ican't tell you how sadly we have missed you this summer."
"Mamma, I do feel it to be very, very sweet to be so loved and caredfor. I could not tell you how dear you and my little brother are tome, and as for papa--sometimes I am more than half afraid I make anidol of him; and yet--oh, mamma," she murmured, hiding her face inRose's bosom, "why is it that I can no longer be in love with theloves that so fully satisfied me?"
"'Thy desire shall be to thy husband, and he shall rule over thee.' Itis part of woman's curse that she must ever crave that sort of love,often yielding to her craving, to her own terrible undoing. Bepatient, darling, and try to trust both your heavenly and your earthlyfather. You know that no trial can come to you without your heavenlyFather's will, and that He means this for your good. Look to Him andhe will help you to bear it, and send relief in His own good time andway. You know He tells us it is through much tribulation we enterthe kingdom of God; and that whom the Lord loveth He chasteneth,and scourgeth every son whom he receiveth. 'If ye be withoutchastisements, whereof all are partakers, then are ye bastards and nosons!"
"Ah, yes, mamma; better the hardest of earthly trials, than to be leftout of the number of his adopted children. And this seems to be reallymy only one, while
my cup of blessings is full to overflowing. I fearI am very wicked to feel so sad."
"Let us sit down on this couch while we talk; you are too tiredto stand," said Rose, drawing her away from the window to asoftly-cushioned lounge. "I do not think you can help grieving,darling, though I agree with you that it is your duty to try to becheerful, as well as patient and submissive; and I trust you will findit easier as the days and weeks move on. You are very young, and haveplenty of time to wait; indeed, if all had gone right, you know yourpapa would not have allowed you to marry for several years yet."
"You know all, mamma?"
"Yes, dear; papa told me; for you know you are my darling daughtertoo, and I have a very deep interest in all that concerns you."
A tender caress accompanied the words, and was returned with equalardor.
"Thank you, best and kindest of mothers; I should never want anythingkept from you."
"Your father tells me you have behaved beautifully, though youevidently felt it very hard to be separated so entirely and at oncefr--"
"Yes, mamma," and Elsie's lip quivered, and her eyes filled, "and oh,I can't believe he is the wicked man papa thinks him. From the firsthe seemed to be a perfect gentleman, educated, polished, and refined;and afterward he became--at least so I thought from the conversationswe had together--truly converted, and a very earnest, devotedChristian. He told me he had been, at one time, a little wild, butsurely he ought not to be condemned for that, after he had repentedand reformed."
"No, dear; and your father would agree with you in that. But hebelieves you have been deceived in the man's character; and don't youthink, daughter, that he is wiser than yourself, and more capable offinding out the truth about the matter?"
"I know papa is far wiser than I, but, oh, my heart will not believewhat they say of--of him!" she cried with sudden, almost passionatevehemence.
"Well, dear, that is perfectly natural, but try to be entirelysubmissive to your father, and wait patiently; and hopefully too," sheadded with a smile; "for if Mr. Egerton is really good, no doubt itwill be proved in time, and then your father will at once remove hisinterdict. And if you are mistaken, you will one day discover it, andfeel thankful, indeed, to your papa for taking just the course hehas."
"There he is now!" Elsie said with a start, as Mr. Dinsmore's step washeard without, and Chloe opened the door in answer to his rap.
"What, Elsie disobeying orders, and mamma conniving at it!" heexclaimed in a tone that might mean either jest or serious reproof."Did I not bid you go to bed at once, my daughter?"
"I thought it was only permission, papa, not command," she answered,lifting her eyes to his face, and moving to make room for him by herside. "And mamma has been saying such sweet, comforting things to me."
"Has she, darling? Bless her for it! I know you need comfort, my poorlittle pet," he said, taking the offered seat, and passing his armround her waist. "But you need rest too, and ought not to stay up anylonger."
"But surely papa knows I cannot go to bed without my good-night kisswhen he is in the same house with me," she said, winding her armsabout his neck.
"And didn't like to take it before folks? Well, that was right, buttake it now. There, good-night. Now mamma and I will run away, and youmust get into bed with all speed. No mistake about the command thistime, and disobedience, if ventured on, will have to be punished," hesaid with playful tenderness, as he returned her embrace, and rose toleave the room.
"The dear child; my heart aches for her," he remarked to his wife,as they went out together, "and I find it almost impossible yet toforgive either that scoundrel Jackson or my brother Arthur."
"You have no lingering doubts as to the identity and utterunworthiness of the man?"
"Not one; and if I could only convince Elsie of his true charactershe would detest him as thoroughly as I do. If he had his deserts, hewould be in the State's Prison; and to think of his daring to approachmy child, and even aspire to her hand!"
Elsie lay all night in a profound slumber, and awoke at an early hourthe next morning, feeling greatly refreshed and invigorated. Thegentle murmur of old ocean came pleasantly to her ear, and sweetlyin her mind arose the thought of Him whom even the winds and the seaobey; of His never failing love to her, and of the many great andprecious promises of His word. She remembered how He had said, "YourFather knoweth that ye have need of all these things," and, content tobear the cross He had sent her, and leave her future in His hands, sherose to begin the new day more cheerful and hopeful than she had beensince learning her father's decision in regard to Egerton.
Throwing on a dressing-gown over her night dress, she sat down beforethe open window with her Bible in her hand. She still loved, as ofold, to spend the first hour of the day in the study of its pages, andin communion with Him whose word it is.
Chloe was just putting the finishing touches to her young lady'stoilet when little Horace came running down the hall, and rapping onElsie's door, called out, "Sister, papa says put on a short dress, andyour walking shoes, and come take a stroll on the beach with us beforebreakfast."
"Yes, tell papa I will. I'll be down in five minutes."
She came down looking sweet and fresh as the morning; a smile on thefull red lips, and a faint tinge of rose color on the cheeks that hadbeen so pale the night before.
"Ah, you are something like yourself again," said Rose, greeting herwith a motherly caress, as they met in the lower hall. "How nice it isto have you at home once more."
"Thank you, mamma, I am very glad to be here; and I had such a goodrestful sleep. How well you look."
"And feel too, I am thankful to be able to say. But there, your fatheris calling to you from the sitting-room."
Elsie hastened to obey the summons, and found him seated at hiswriting desk.
"Come here, daughter," he said, "and tell me if you obeyed orders lastnight."
"Yes, papa, I did."
"I am writing a few lines to Aunt Wealthy, to tell her of our safearrival. Have you any message to send?" and laying down his pen hedrew her to his knee.
"Only my love, papa, and--and that she must not be anxious about me,as she said that she should. That I am very safe and happy in thehands of my heavenly Father--and those of the kind earthly one He hasgiven me," she added in a whisper, putting her arms about his neck,and looking in his face with eyes brimful of filial tenderness andlove.
"That is right, my darling," he said, "and you shall never want forlove while your father lives. How it rejoices my heart to see youlooking so bright and well this morning."
"I feat I have not been yielding you the cheerful obedience I ought,papa," she murmured with tears in her eyes, "but I am resolved to tryto do so in future; and have been asking help where I know it is to beobtained."
"I have no fault to find with you on that score, my dear child," hesaid tenderly, "but if you can be cheerful, it will be for your ownhappiness, as well as ours."
She kept her promise faithfully, and had her reward in much realenjoyment of the many pleasures provided for her.
Mr. and Mrs. Dinsmore were still youthful in their feelings, andjoined with great zest in the sports of the young people, going withthem in all their excursions, taking an active part in all theirpastimes, and contriving so many fresh entertainments, that duringthose few weeks life seemed like one long gala day.
Mr. Travilla was with them most of the time. He had tarried behind inPhiladelphia, as Mr. Dinsmore and his daughter passed through, butfollowed them to Cape Island a few days later.
The whole party left the shore about the last of September, theAllisons returning to their city residence, Mr. Travilla to hisSouthern home, and the Dinsmores travelling through Pennsylvania andNew York, from one romantic and picturesque spot to another; finishingup with two or three weeks in Philadelphia, during which Rose andElsie were much occupied with their fall and winter shopping.
Mr. Dinsmore took this opportunity to pay another flying visit to histwo young brothers. He found Arthur nearly reco
vered, and at onceasked a full explanation of the affair of Tom Jackson, alias BromlyEgerton; his designs upon Elsie, and Arthur's participation in them.
"I know nothing about it," was the sullen rejoinder.
"You certainly were acquainted with Tom Jackson, and how, but throughyou, could he have gained any knowledge of Elsie and her whereabouts?"
"I don't deny that I've had some dealings with Jackson, but yourEgerton I know nothing of whatever."
"You may as well speak the truth, sir; it will be much better foryou in the end," said Mr. Dinsmore, sternly, his eyes flashing withindignant anger.
"And you may as well remember that it isn't Elsie you are dealingwith. I'm not afraid of you."
"Perhaps not, but you may well fear Him who has said, 'a lying tongueis but for a moment.' How do you reconcile such an assertion as youhave just made with the fact of your having that letter in yourpossession?"
"I say it's a cowardly piece of business for you to give the lie to afellow that hasn't the strength to knock you down for it."
"You would hardly attempt that if you were in perfect health, Arthur."
"I would."
"You have not answered my question about the letter.
"I wrote it myself."
"A likely story; it is in a very different hand from yours."
"I can adopt that hand on occasion, as I'll prove to yoursatisfaction."
He opened his desk, wrote a sentence on a scrap of paper, and handedit to Mr. Dinsmore. The chirography was precisely that of the letter.While slowly convalescing, Arthur had prepared for this expectedinterview with Horace, by spending many a solitary hour in laboriouslyteaching himself to imitate Jackson's ordinary hand, in which most ofthe letters he had received from him were written. The sentence he hadfirst penned was, "I did it merely for my own amusement, and to hoaxWal."
"I don't believe a word of it," said Mr. Dinsmore, looking sternly athim. "Arthur, you had better be frank and open with me. You will gainnothing by denying the hand you have had in this disgraceful business.You can hardly suppose me credulous enough to believe an assertion soperfectly absurd as this. I have no doubt that you sent that villainto Lansdale to try his arts upon Elsie; and for that you are richlydeserving of my anger, and of any punishment it might be in my powerto deal out to you.
"It has been no easy matter for me to forgive the suffering you havecaused my child, Arthur; but I came here to-day with kind feelings andintentions. I hoped to find you penitent and ready to forsake yourevil courses; and in that case, intended to help you to pay off yourdebts and begin anew, without paining father with the knowledge thathis confidence in you has been again so shamefully abused. But I mustsay that your persistent denial of your complicity with that scoundrelJackson does not look much like contrition, or intended amendment."
Arthur listened in sullen silence, though his rapidly changing colorshowed that he felt the cutting rebuke keenly. At one time he hadresolved to confess everything, throw himself upon the mercy of hisfather and brother, and begin to lead an honest, upright life; but athreatening letter received that morning from Jackson had led him tochange his purpose, and determine to close his lips for a time.
Mr. Dinsmore paused for a reply, but none came.
Walter looked at Arthur in surprise. "Come, Art, speak, why don'tyou?" he said. "Horace, don't look so stern and angry, I know he meansto turn over a new leaf; for he told me so. And you will help him,won't you?"
"I ask no favors from a man who throws the lie in my teeth," mutteredArthur angrily.
"And I can give none to one who persists in denying his guilt,"replied Mr. Dinsmore. "But, Arthur, I give you one more chance, andfor our father's sake I hope you will avail yourself of it. If you goon as you have for the last three or four years, you will bring downhis gray hairs with sorrow to the grave. I presume you have putyourself in Jackson's power; but if you will now make a full and freeconfession to me, and promise amendment, I will help you to get rid ofthe rascal's claims upon you, and start afresh. Will you do it?"
"No, you've called me a liar, and what's the use of my telling youanything? you wouldn't believe it if I did."