CHAPTER XII.
The duties of the schoolroom had filled up the rest of the morning forLulu, so occupying her mind that she could give only an occasionalthought to the sad fact that she was in disgrace with her father.
Then came dinner, which she took in the dining-room, feeling it lonelyenough with the whole family absent; immediately after that a musiclesson filled another hour, and that was followed by an hour of practiceon the piano.
Then Alma wanted her again, and then, knowing it was what her fatherwould approve, she took her usual exercise about the grounds; afterwhich she prepared her lessons for the next day.
But all the time her heart was heavy with the consciousness that "papa,dear papa," was displeased with her, and she felt that there could be nohappiness for her till she had made her peace with him.
"Oh," she sighed again and again, "will he never, never come, that I maytell him how sorry and ashamed I am?"
But when tea-time came he was still absent, and that meal also had to betaken alone.
She did not linger at the table, and on leaving it went into the librarywhere a wood fire blazed cheerfully on the hearth, for the evenings werenow quite cool, and settling herself in an easy-chair listened for thesound of his coming.
She was too much disturbed, and too anxious to read or work, so satdoing nothing but listen intently for the sound of horses' hoofs orcarriage-wheels on the drive without.
"Will he punish me?" she was asking herself. "I believe I want him to,for I'm sure I richly deserve it. Oh, there he is! I hear his voice inthe hall!" and her heart beat fast as she sprang up and ran to meet him.
He was already at the door of the room when she reached it.
"Papa," she said humbly, and with her eyes on the carpet, "I--I'm very,very sorry for my naughtiness this morning. I have obeyed you--askedAlma's pardon--and--please, dear papa, won't you forgive me, too?"
"Certainly, dear child," he said, bending down to press a kiss upon herlips. "I am always ready to forgive my dear children when they tell methey are sorry for having offended, and ready to obey."
He led her to the easy-chair by the fireside, which she had justvacated, and seating himself therein, drew her to a seat upon his knee.
"Papa, I'm so sorry, so very sorry for my badness, so ashamed of notbeing obedient to such a dear, kind father," she said, low andtremulously, blushing painfully as she spoke. "Please, I want you topunish me well for it."
"Have I not already done so, daughter?" he asked. "I doubt if this hasbeen a happy day to you."
"Oh, no, indeed, papa! I soon repented of my badness and lookedeverywhere for you to tell you how sorry I was and ask you to forgiveme. But you were gone and so I had to wait, and the day has seemed as ifit would never end, though I've been trying to do everything I thoughtyou would bid me do if you were here."
"Then I think I need add no further punishment," he said, softlycaressing her hair and cheek with his hand.
"But please I want you to, because I deserve it and ought to be made topay for such badness; and I'm afraid if I'm not, I'll just be bad againsoon."
"Well, daughter," he replied, "we will leave that question open toconsideration. I see you have books here on the table, and we will nowattend to the recitations."
Her recitations were quite perfect, and he gave the deserved meed ofpraise, appointed the tasks for the next day, then drawing her to hisknee again, said: "It does not seem to me necessary, daughter, toinflict any further punishment for the wrong-doings of this morning. Youare sorry for them, and do not intend to offend in the same way again?"
"Yes, I am sorry, papa, and I don't mean to behave so any more; still,I'd feel more comfortable, and surer of not being just as bad again in afew days or weeks, if you'd punish me. So please do."
"Very well, then, I will give you an extra task or two," he said, takingup her Latin grammar, "I will give you twice the usual lesson in this.Then, not as a punishment, but for your good, I want you to search outall the texts you can find in God's Holy Word about the sinfulness ofanger and pride and the duty of confessing our faults, not only to him,but to those whom we have injured by them."
Opening the Family Bible which lay on the table close at hand, "Here isone in Proverbs," he said. "'He that covereth his sins shall notprosper; but whoso confesseth and forsaketh them, shall have mercy."'
Then turning to the New Testament, he read again, "'Therefore, if thoubring thy gift to the altar, and there rememberest that thy brother hathaught against thee, leave there thy gift before the altar, and go thyway; first be reconciled to thy brother, and then come and offer thygift.'"
"That is in Matthew," he said, "and here in the Epistle of James," againturning over the leaves, "we read perhaps the plainest direction of allon the subject, 'Confess your faults one to another, and pray one foranother that ye may be healed.'"
"But, papa----" she paused, hanging her head while a vivid blushsuffused her cheeks.
"Well, daughter, what is it? Do not be afraid to let me know all yourthoughts. I want you always to talk freely to me, that if you are wrongI may be able to convince you of the right. I want my children to actintelligently, doing right because they see that it is right, and notmerely because papa commands it."
"Please don't be angry with me, papa, but, it did seem to me a sort ofdegradation to have to ask pardon of a--a woman who has to work for herliving like Alma," she said with some hesitation, blushing and hangingher head as she spoke.
"I am very, very sorry to hear such sentiments from a daughter of mine,"he returned in a gravely concerned tone and with a slight sigh. "It iswicked pride, my child, that puts such thoughts in your head.
"And who can say that there may not come a time when you too will haveto work for your living? The Bible tells us riches certainly take tothemselves wings and fly away."
Again turning over the leaves, "Here is the passage--twenty-thirdchapter of Proverbs, fourth and fifth verses: 'Labor not to be rich;cease from thine own wisdom. Wilt thou set thine eyes upon that which isnot? for riches certainly make themselves wings; they fly away as aneagle toward heaven.'
"And how little are they really worth, while we have them? 'Richesprofit not in the day of wrath,' we are told in this Holy Book. And itsays a great deal of the folly and sinfulness of pride; particularly inthis book of Proverbs;" turning over the leaves he read here andthere--"'When pride cometh, then cometh shame; but, with the lowly iswisdom.' 'Pride goeth before destruction, and a haughty spirit before afall. Better is it to be an humble spirit with the lowly, than to dividethe spoil with the proud.'
"'Proud and haughty scorner is his name who dealeth in proud wrath.'
"'A man's pride shall bring him low: but honor shall uphold the humblein spirit.'
"'The fear of the Lord is to hate evil: pride, and arrogancy, and theevil way and the forward mouth, do I hate.'"
There was a moment of silence, then Lulu said humbly, tears starting toher eyes as she spoke, "Papa, I did not know--at least I never thoughtabout it--that pride was so wicked."
"Yes," he said, "the Bible tells us that everyone proud in heart is anabomination to the Lord, that God resisteth the proud, but giveth graceunto the humble; there is much in the Bible against pride and in favorof humility. We are all sinners, worthy of nothing good at the hands ofGod, and what have we to do with pride?"
"Papa, when I say my prayers to-night I will ask God to take away allthe wicked pride out of my heart; and won't you ask him too?"
"I will, my darling, as I have already, very many times, and I hope youhave not neglected to ask him to forgive your wrong thoughts, feelings,and actions of this morning?"
"I have asked for that, papa, and I will again," she replied.
They were silent again for a little while, the captain looking as if histhoughts were far away; Lulu was studying his face with eyes thatpresently filled with tears.
"Papa," she said low, and half tremulously, "you look so sad. Is it allbecause you are grieved over my naughtines
s?"
"No, daughter, not all; indeed I was hardly thinking of that at themoment, but of the grief, sorrow and anxiety at Ion."
"What about, papa?" she queried with a startled look. "Oh, I hope thatnothing bad has happened to Gracie or Mamma Vi, or our little ones?"
"No; I am thankful that all is right with them: but dear Grandma Elsieis in a very critical condition; I cannot tell you exactly what ailsher, but she has been suffering very much for months past, keeping it toherself till yesterday, when she told it all to Cousin Arthur, andlearned from him that nothing but a difficult and dangerous surgicaloperation could save her life.
"That is to be performed to-morrow, and, whether she lives or dies, willrelieve her from the dreadful agony she is enduring; for no one whoknows her can doubt that she is one of God's dear children. Death willbe gain to her, but a sad loss to all of us."
Before he had finished Lulu's face was hidden on his shoulder and shewas weeping bitterly.
"O papa," she sobbed, "I'm so, so sorry for her, dear, dear GrandmaElsie! Isn't she frightened almost to death?"
"No, daughter; she is very calm and peaceful, ready to live or die asGod's will shall be; grieving only for those who love her so dearly andfind it so difficult to be reconciled to the thought of losing her; herefforts are all to comfort them. She has set her house in order andseems quite ready for either life or death.
"But we will pray--you and I--as the others are praying, that if God'swill be so, she may live and go in and out before us for many years tocome."
"Yes, papa. Oh, I am glad that we may ask our kind heavenly Father foreverything we want! Poor Mamma Vi! how her heart must ache! and is shegoing to stay on at Ion now, papa?"
"Yes; certainly till her mother is out of danger or forever done withsin and suffering. Gracie and our two little ones will stay too; Gracieamusing the others and keeping them in the grounds, or a part of thehouse so distant from Grandma Elsie's room that their noise will notdisturb her."
"And you and I will stay on here, papa?"
"Yes; I must be here a good deal of the time to oversee my workmen, andshall want my dear eldest daughter to be my companion and helper invarious ways, for I know she loves to be such to her father," he added,pressing his lips to her cheek.
"Indeed I do, papa! Oh, thank you for letting me!" she exclaimed,lifting her head and showing eyes shining through tears. "I'd rather behere with you, than anywhere else, my own dear, dear father!" puttingher arms about his neck and hugging him close. "Only," she added, "I'dlike to see Gracie and the others for a little bit every once in a whileif I may."
"Yes, you shall," he said, returning her embrace. "Perhaps I may be ableto take you over there for a short visit almost every day. And in themeantime we may hope that lessons and the dressmaking will go onprosperously."
"Are you going to spend your nights here at home, papa?" she asked witha wistful, half pleading look.
"Yes, dear child; I could not think of leaving you alone; nor would yourMamma Vi wish me to do so while she has both her brother and grandfathernear her, to say nothing of the women, children, and servants; you willhave me close at hand every night and the greater part of the day."
"Oh, I am so glad and thankful!" she said, with a sigh of relief. "Idon't think I should be exactly afraid, because God would be with me,but it is so delightful to have my dear earthly father too. May I sleepin Gracie'e room to be nearer to you?"
"Yes; and with the door open between it and mine, so that if you wantanything in the night you will only need to call to me and I will go toyou at once.
"Now if there are any more questions you would like answered, let mehear them."
"There is something I'd like to say, papa, but I'm--almost afraid."
"Afraid of what, daughter?" he asked, as she paused in someembarrassment, and with a half pleading look into his eyes.
"That you might think it saucy and be displeased with me.
"Do you mean it so, daughter?"
"Oh, no indeed, papa!"
"Then you need not be afraid to let me hear it."
"Papa, it is only that I--I think if you had talked to me this morning,when you called me to you, about the wickedness of being too proud toask Alma's pardon, and reasoned with me as you did a little while ago,about it all, I--I'd have obeyed you at once; you know you do almostalways show me the reasonableness of your commands before, or when, youlay them upon me."
"Yes, my child," he said in a kindly tone, "I have done so as a rule,and should in this instance, but that I was much hurried for time. Thatwill sometimes happen, and you and all my children must always obey mepromptly, whether you can or cannot at the moment see the reasonablenessof the order given. Is your estimation of your father's wisdom and hislove for you so low that you cannot trust him thus far?"
"O papa, forgive me!" she exclaimed, putting her arms about his neck andlaying her cheek to his. "I do hope I'll never, never again hesitate oneminute to obey any order from you; because I know you love me, and thatyou are very wise and would never bid me do anything but what I ought."
"Certainly never intentionally, daughter; and surely your father, who isso many years older than yourself, should be esteemed by you as somewhatwiser."
"O papa, I know you are a great, great deal wiser than I," she saidearnestly. "How ridiculous it seems to think of anybody comparing mywisdom with yours! I know I'm only a silly little girl, and not a goodone either, and it would be a sad thing to have a father no wiser orbetter than myself."