CHAPTER X.
"I hope there is nothing serious ailing dear mamma," Violet said ratheranxiously to herself, as the carriage rolled swiftly on toward Ion;"there was really nothing in her note to indicate it, but she has neverbeen one to complain of even a pretty serious ailment. She is not oldyet; we may hope to keep her with us for many, many years. But then sheis so good--so ripe for heaven!" And a silent prayer went up to God thatthe dear mother might be spared for many years to help others on theirpilgrim way, especially her children and grandchildren. "For oh, how weneed her!" was the added thought; "what could we ever do withouther--the dear, kind, loving mother to whom we carry all our troubles andperplexities, sure of comfort, the best of advice, and all the help inher power to give. Dear, dear mamma! Oh, I have never prized her as Iought!"
It was only the previous evening that Mrs. Travilla herself had learnedthat she was assailed by more than a trifling ailment. What seemed toher but a slight one, causing discomfort, and at times quite a good dealof pain, she had been conscious of for some weeks or months, but hadnot thought it necessary to speak of it to anyone.
About the time of her return home, however, there had been a verydecided increase in the suffering; which at length led her to confideher trouble to her cousin and family physician, Dr. Arthur Conly, andshe had learned from him that it was far more serious than she hadsupposed; that in fact her only escape from sure and speedy death lay insubmission to a difficult and dangerous surgical operation.
Arthur told her as gently and tenderly as he could--assuring her thatthere was more than a possibility of a successful result--bringingrelief from her suffering and prolonging her life for many years.
His first words--showing her ailment as so much more serious than shehad ever for a moment supposed it to be--gave her a shock at the thoughtof the sudden parting from all her dear ones--father, children, andgrandchildren; yet before he had finished she was entirely calm andcomposed.
"And what would death be but going home?" she said; "home to themansions Jesus my Saviour has prepared for those he died to redeem, andto the dear ones gone before, there to await the coming of those whowill be left behind for a little while. Ah, it is nothing to dread orto fear, for 'I know that my Redeemer liveth.'"
"And yet, Cousin Elsie," Arthur returned, with ill-concealed emotion,"how illy you could be spared by any of those who know and love you.Even I should feel it an almost heartbreaking thing to lose you out ofmy life, and your father, children----"
"Yes, I know, dear cousin, and shall not hesitate to do or bear all thatholds out a hope of prolonging my days here upon earth; for otherwise Ishould feel that I was rushing into the Master's presence unbidden, andthat without finishing the work he has given me to do here.
"Nor would I be willing to so pain the hearts of those who love me. I amready to submit at once to whatever you deem necessary or expedient. Butah, my dear father! How distressed he will be when he learns all thatyou have just told me! I wish he might be spared the knowledge till allis over. But it would not do. He must be told at once, and--I must tellhim."
"That will be very hard for you, dear cousin; would it not bebetter----" Arthur began, but paused, leaving his sentence unfinished.
"It will come best from me, I think," she returned, with a sad sort ofsmile. "But when?"
"Day after to-morrow, if you will. I think you would prefer to have thetrial over as soon as possible?"
"Yes; I think it will save both me and all concerned from some of thesuffering of anticipation, if you can make it suit your convenience."
"Perfectly," he answered; "there are few preparations to be made and Ido not want long to contemplate doing what must be a trial to so manywhom I love."
Their talk had been in her boudoir. He lingered but a few momentslonger, then went down to the drawing-room.
"Uncle," he said, in a low aside to Mr. Dinsmore, "I have just leftCousin Elsie in her boudoir and she wishes to see you there."
"She is not well, Arthur?" asked the old gentleman, with a slightlystartled look, as he rose from his easy chair and the two passed outinto the hall together.
"Not very, uncle," was the sad-toned reply. "She has been consulting meand there is something she wishes to say to you."
Mr. Dinsmore paled to the very lips. "Don't keep me in suspense, Arthur;let me know the worst, at once," he said, with almost a groan. "Why hasanything been hidden from me--the father who loves her better than hislife?"
"I have been as ignorant as yourself, uncle, till within the last halfhour," replied the doctor, in a patient, deeply sympathizing tone. "Itis astonishing to me that she has been able to endure so much for weeksor months past without a word of complaint. But do not despair, my dearuncle; the case is by no means hopeless."
"Tell me all, Arthur; hide nothing, nothing from me," Mr. Dinsmore saidwith mingled sternness and entreaty, hastily leading the way as he spoketo the little reception room opening from the other side of the hall,and closing the door against any chance intruder.
Arthur complied, stating the case as briefly as possible, and layingstrong emphasis upon the fact that there was reason to hope for, notspared life alone, but entire and permanent relief.
"God grant it!" was the old gentleman's fervent, half agonized response."My darling, my darling! would that I could bear all the suffering foryou! Arthur, when--when must my child go through the trial which you sayis--not to be escaped?"
"We have agreed upon the day after to-morrow, uncle, both she and Iwishing to have it over as soon as possible."
A few minutes later, Mr. Dinsmore passed quietly into his daughter'sboudoir, where he found her alone, lying on a lounge, her eyes closed,her countenance, though deathly pale, perfectly calm and peaceful.
He bent down and touched his lips to the white forehead; then as thesweet eyes opened and looked up lovingly into his, "Oh, my darling, idolof my heart," he groaned, "would that your father could himself take thesuffering that I have just learned is in store for you."
"Ah no, no, my dear, dear father, I could illy bear that," she said,putting an arm about his neck; "suffering and danger to you would be farharder for me than what I am now enduring or expecting in the nearfuture. Arthur has told you all?"
"Yes; kind-hearted and generous fellow that he is, he felt that he mustspare you the pain of telling it yourself."
"Yes, it was very, very kind," she said, "Dear papa, sit down in thiseasy chair, close by my side, and take my hand in yours while we talktogether of some matters that need to be settled before--before I amcalled to go through that which may be the end of earthly life for me."
Then, in response to the anguished look in his face as he bent over herwith another silent caress, "My dear father, I do not mean to distressyou. Arthur holds out strong hope of cure and years of health andstrength to follow; yet surely it is but the part of wisdom to preparefor either event."
"Yes; and I am sure you are fully prepared, at least so far as youreternal welfare is concerned; should you be called away--our grief willbe for ourselves alone."
"I am glad the choice is not left with me," she said, in low, sweettones, after a moment's silence. "For your dear sake, papa, and that ofmy beloved children, I am more than willing to stay here on earth formany more years, yet the thought of being forever with the Lord--nearhim and like him--thrills my heart with joy unspeakable, while added tothat is a great gladness in the prospect of reunion with the dearhusband who has gone before me to that happy land. So I am not to bepitied, my dear father," she added, with a beautiful smile; "and can younot rejoice with me that the choice is not mine but lies with him whoselove for us both is far greater than ours for each other?"
"Yes," he replied with emotion; "blessed be his holy name that we mayleave it all in his hands, trusting in his infinite wisdom and love;knowing that if called to part for a season, we shall be reunited inheaven, never again to be torn asunder."
"Yes, dear father; we cannot expect to go quite together, but whenreunited there in t
hat blessed land, never again to part, the time ofseparation will seem to have been very short; even as nothing comparedto the long, the unending eternity we shall spend together.
"And oh, what an eternity of joy and bliss, forever freed from sin andsuffering, near and like our Lord, altogether pleasing in his sight, nodoubts, no fears, the battle fought, the victory won. 'And there shallbe no more curse, but the throne of God and of the Lamb shall be in it,and his servants shall serve him; and they shall see his face; and hisname shall be in their foreheads. And there shall be no night there; andthey need no candle, neither light of the sun; for the Lord God giveththem light, and they shall reign for ever and ever!'"
"Yes, my darling; blessed be his holy name for the many great andprecious promises of his word, and I have not a doubt of your fullpreparation for either event; but oh, that it may please him to spareyou to me as the light, comfort, joy of my remaining days! Yet should itplease him to take you to himself--ah, I cannot, dare not allow myselfto contemplate so terrible a bereavement," he added, in low anguishedaccents, as he bent over her, softly smoothing her hair with tenderlycaressing touch.
"Then do not, dear father," she said, lifting to his eyes full of ardentlove and sympathy; "try to leave it all with the dear Master, and hewill fulfil to you his precious promise, 'As thy days, so shall thystrength be.' Has it not ever been the testimony of all his saintsconcerning his precious promises that not one faileth?"
"Yes," he said, "and so will it ever be. By his grace I will trust andnot be afraid for you, my beloved child; nor for myself, his mostunworthy servant."
Then with an upward glance, "'Lord increase our faith.' Oh, help us eachto trust in thee and not to be afraid, be the way ever so dark anddreary, remembering thy gracious promise, 'I will in no wise fail thee,neither will I in anywise forsake thee.'"
"Sweet, sweet words, papa," she said, low and tremulously, lifting tohis eyes full of glad, grateful tears.
"And those others, 'When thou passeth through the waters, I will be withthee; and through the rivers, they shall not overflow thee; when thouwalkest through the fire, thou shalt not be burned; neither shall theflame kindle upon thee. For I am the Lord thy God, the Holy One ofIsrael, thy Saviour.'
"Oh, what more could I ask? what have I to do with doubt or fear, sincehe is mine and I am his?"
"Only the physical pain," he said, low and tenderly; "and Arthur tellsme that with the help of anaesthetics there will be little or none ofthat during the operation, but----"
"What may come afterward can be easily borne, dear papa," she said, ashe paused, overcome by emotion.
"My dear, brave darling! a more patient, resigned sufferer never lived!"was his moved, though low-breathed, exclamation.
A moment's silence fell between them, he leaning over and caressing herwith exceeding tenderness; then, "Papa," she said, with a loving look upinto his eyes, "I cannot bear to see you so distressed. Arthur holds outstrong hope of cure, of speedy and entire recovery; and we may be sparedto each other for many years if the will of God be so; but--surely it ismy wisest plan to prepare for every possibility.
"I feel very easy about my dear children, most of them having alreadyarrived at years of maturity, and being comfortably settled in life;Edward and my two older daughters, at least; while the others I canleave in the safest of earthly hands, even those of my dear and honoredfather, whose love for them is only secondary to my own; and for eachone I have reason to hope that the good part has been chosen which cannever be taken away."
"I do indeed love them very dearly," he responded, "for their own sake,their father's, and most of all because they are the offspring of my ownbeloved child. Should I outlive her, they shall want for nothing theirgrandfather can do to make them happy."
"I know it, dear father, and can leave them to your and their heavenlyFather's care without a doubt or fear," she said, with a gentle sighover the thought of the parting with her darlings that might be so near.
She went on to speak of some business matters, then said: "I think thatis all, papa. I do not care to make any alteration in my will; and, asyou know, you and brother Horace are my executors. To-morrow I must havea little talk with each of my children, and then I shall be ready forArthur and his assistants.
"I want all my children near at hand in case of an unfavorable resultand that I am able to say a few last words, bidding them all farewell."
There was again a moment of silence, her father seeming too muchovercome to speak; then she went on: "I think they must not be toldto-night, that the two younger ones need know nothing of the danger tillthe morning of the operation. I would spare them all the suffering ofanticipation that I can; and were I but sure, quite sure, of goingsafely through it all, they should know nothing of it till afterward;but I cannot rob them of a few last words with their mother."
"My darling! always unselfish, always thinking of others first!" Mr.Dinsmore said, in moved tones, bending over her and pressing his lipsagain and again to her pale cheek and brow.
"Surely almost any mother would think of her children before herself,"she returned with a sweet, sad smile.
But just at that instant childish footsteps were heard in the hallwithout, then a gentle rap on the door, and Walter's voice asking,"Mamma, may I come in?"
"Yes, my son," she answered, in cheerful tones, and in a moment he wasat her side, asking, in some alarm and anxiety, "Mamma, dear, are yousick?" bending over her as he spoke, and pressing ardent kisses uponcheek and lip and brow.
"Not very, mother's darling baby boy," she answered, lifting to his eyesfull of tender mother love.
"'Baby boy?'" repeated Walter, with a merry laugh, gently smoothing herhair, and patting her cheek lovingly, while he spoke. "Mamma, dear, haveyou forgotten that I am eleven years old?"
"No, dear; but for all that you are still mother's dear, dear baby boy!"she said, hugging him close.
"Well, I shan't mind your calling me that, you dearest mamma," laughedWalter, repeating his caresses; "but nobody else must do it."
"Not even grandpa?" queried Mr. Dinsmore, with a proudly affectionatesmile into the bright young face.
"I don't think you'd want to, grandpa," returned the lad, "because, youknow, you're always telling me I must try to be a manly boy. But I cameup to remind you and mamma that it's time for prayers. Grandma sent meto do so and to ask if you could both come down now."
"You will not think of going down, Elsie?" Mr. Dinsmore exclaimed insurprise, as his daughter made a movement as if to rise from her couch.
"Yes, papa," she returned. "I have been resting here for some hours andfeel quite able to join the family now. I am not in pain at this moment,and Arthur said nothing about keeping to my room."
"Then I wouldn't, mamma," said Walter, slipping his hand into hers. "I'msure Cousin Arthur's always ready enough to order us to keep to ourrooms if there's any occasion. I'm glad he doesn't think you sick enoughto have to do that."
His mother only smiled in reply, and, taking her father's offered arm,moved on in the direction of the stairway, Walter still clinging to herother hand.
Anxious looks and inquiries greeted her on their entrance into theparlor, where family and servants were already gathered for the eveningservice; but she parried them all with such cheery words and brightsweet smiles as set their fears at rest for the time.
But those of Edward were presently rearoused as--the younger members ofthe family and the servants having retired from the room--he noticed alook of keen, almost anguished anxiety, bestowed by his grandfather uponhis mother; then that her cheek was unusually pale.
"Mother dear, you are not well!" he exclaimed, hastily rising and goingto her.
"No, not quite, my dear boy," she replied, smiling up at him; "but donot look so distressed; none of us can expect always to escape allillness. I am going back to my room now and, though able to do sowithout assistance, will accept the support of the arm of my eldest son,if it is offered me."
"Gladly, mother dear, unless yo
u will let me carry you; which I am fullyable to do."
"Oh, no, Ned," she said laughingly, as she rose and put her hand withinhis arm; "the day may possibly come when I shall tax your young strengthto that extent, but it is not necessary now. Papa, dear," turning tohim, "shall I say good-night to you now?"
"No, no," Mr. Dinsmore answered, with some emotion, "I shall step intoyour rooms for that as it is on my way to my own."
"I, too," said Mrs. Dinsmore; "and perhaps you will let me play thenurse for you if you are not feeling quite well."
"Thank you very much, mamma. In case your kind services are reallyneeded I shall not hesitate to let you know. And I am always glad to seeyou in my rooms."
"Mother, you are actually panting for breath!" Edward exclaimed whenthey were half-way up the stairs. "I shall carry you," and taking her inhis arms as he spoke, he bore her to her boudoir and laid her tenderlydown on its couch. "Oh, mother dear," he said, in quivering tones, "tellme all. Why should your eldest son be shut out from your confidence?"
"My dear boy," she answered, putting her hand into his, "can you notrest content till to-morrow? Why should you think that anything seriousails me?"
"Your pale looks and evident weakness," he said, "grandpa's distressedcountenance as he turns his eyes on you, and the unusually sober,serious look of Cousin Arthur as I met him passing out of the houseto-night. He had been with you, had he not?"
"Yes, my son, and I meant that you and your sisters should know allto-morrow or the next day. It is only for your own sake I would have hadyou spared the knowledge till then."
"Dearest mother, tell me all now," he entreated; "for surely nocertainty can be worse than this dreadful suspense."
"No, I suppose not," she replied in sorrowful tones, her eyes gazinginto his, full of tenderest mother love. Then in a few brief sentencesshe told him all.
"Oh, mother dear; dearest mother!" he cried, clasping her close, "if I,your eldest son, might but take and bear it all--the pain and thedanger--for you, how gladly I would do so!"
"I do not doubt it, my own dear boy," she returned, in moved tones, "butit cannot be; each of us must bear his or her own burden and I rejoicethat this is mine rather than that of my dear son. Do not grieve for me;do not be too anxious; remember that he whose love for me is far greaterthan any earthly love appoints it all, and it shall be for good. 'Weknow that all things work together for good to them that love God.'Blessed, comforting assurance! And how sweet are those words of Jesus,'What I do thou knowest not now; but thou shalt know hereafter!'"
"Yes, dearest mother," he said, with emotion, "and for you it will beall joy, the beginning of an eternity of bliss, if it shall please himto take you to himself; but oh, how hard it will be for your children tolearn to live without you! But I will hope and pray that the result maybe for you restored health and a long and happy life."
For some moments he held her in a close embrace, then, at the sound ofapproaching footsteps in the hall without, laid her gently down upon herpillows.
"Keep it from Zoe for to-night, if possible," she said softly. "Dearlittle woman! I would not have her robbed of her night's rest."
"I will try, mother dear," he said, pressing his lips again and again tohers. "God grant you sweet and refreshing sleep, but oh, do not for amoment hesitate to summon me if there is anything I can do to relieveyou, should you be in pain, or to add in any way to your comfort."
She gave the desired promise and he stole softly from the room; but notto join his wife till some moments of solitude had enabled him so toconquer his emotion that he could appear before her with a calm anduntroubled countenance.
Mr. and Mrs. Dinsmore passed into the boudoir as he left it. Rose hadjust learned from her husband of his talk of that evening with Dr.Conly, and what the physician had then told him of his daughter'scondition and the trial awaiting her in the near future.
Rose was full of sympathy for Elsie, and so overcome at the thought ofthe trial she must so soon pass through that she could scarcely speak.
They clung to each other in a long, tender embrace, Rose sheddingtears, Elsie calm and quiet.
"You will let me be with you, dear Elsie?" she said at last. "Oh, howwillingly I would help you bear it if I could!"
"Dear mamma, how kind you are and have always been to me!" exclaimed thelow sweet voice. "Your presence will be a great support whileconsciousness remains, but after that I would have you spared the trial.
"Don't fear for me; I know that it will all be well. How glad I am thatshould I be taken you will be left to comfort my dear father andchildren. Yet I think that I shall be spared. Arthur holds out a stronghope of a favorable termination.
"So, dear father," turning to him and putting her hand in his, "becomforted. Be strong and of a good courage! Do not let anxiety for merob you of your needed rest and sleep."
"For your dear sake, my darling, I will try to follow your advice," heanswered, with emotion, as in his turn he folded her to his heart andbade her good-night.