CHAPTER XVII.
The Sabbath morning dawned bright and clear. Lulu rose with the sun and,before he was an hour high, was down on the veranda, gazing with delightupon the lovely landscape spread out at her feet.
So absorbed in its beauties was she that she failed to hear anapproaching footstep, and was aware of her father's presence only whenhe laid a hand gently on her head and, bending down, imprinted a kiss onher lips.
"An early bird as usual, my darling!" he said.
"Yes, sir, like my father, my dear, dear father," she returned, twiningher arms around his neck and holding him fast for a moment.
"Did you sleep well?" he asked, releasing himself and taking her hand inhis.
"Oh, yes, indeed, papa! Did not you?"
"I did; I think we all did," he answered. "God has been very good to us.And what a lovely, lovely Sunday morning it is!"
"We can all go to church, can't we, papa?" she asked.
"I think so," he said. "And now you would like to walk down across thelawn, to the water's edge, with me?"
"Oh, yes, indeed, papa," she cried delightedly. "It was just what I waswanting to do."
"It might be well for you to have a bit of something to eat first," hesaid. "Ah, here is just the thing!" as a servant approached with awaiter on which were some oranges prepared for eating in the way GrandmaElsie had enjoyed them in her young days.
"Thank you, Aunt Sally," the captain said, helping Lulu and himself;"you could have brought us nothing more tempting and delicious. Will youplease carry some up to my wife?"
"Ise done it already, sah," replied the woman, smiling all over herface, and dropping a courtesy; "yes, sah; an' she say dey's mighty nice,jes like she hab when she's heah in dis place yeahs ago."
"Papa," remarked Lulu, as they presently crossed the lawn together, "I'mso glad to be here again, and with you. It was a delightful place theother time, I thought, but, oh, it seems twice as pleasant now, becausemy dear father is with us!" and she lifted her eyes to his face with alook of ardent affection.
"Dear child, it is a great pleasure to me to be with you and the rest,"he returned, pressing affectionately the little hand he held in his,"and if you do not have a happier time than you had here before, itshall not be because your father does not try to make it so.
"But, my dear little daughter, remember you have the same spiritual foesto fight here as in other places. If you would be happy you must try tolive very near to Jesus and to watch and pray lest you enter intotemptation. Particularly must you be ever on your guard against thatquick temper which has so often got you into trouble."
"Papa, I do intend to," she said, with a sigh; "and I am very glad Ishall have you close at hand all the time to help me in the fight; foryou do help me, oh, so often--so much, dear papa!" and again she liftedloving eyes to his face.
"I am very thankful that I can, my darling," he returned. "I feel thatGod has been very good to me in so changing my circumstances that I canbe with you almost constantly to aid you in the hard task of learning tocontrol the fiery temper inherited from me. Yet, as I have often toldyou, dear child, the hardest part of the fight must inevitably be yourown, and only by the help of him who has all power in heaven and inearth can you conquer at last.
"I want you to feel that in your inmost soul, and to beware ofself-confidence, which was, I think, the cause of your sad failure of afew weeks ago."
"Yes, papa," she said humbly, "I believe I had begun to feel that I wasquite reformed, so did not watch and pray as constantly as I used to,and then almost before I knew it I was in a passion with poor Alma."
"'When I am weak, then am I strong!' the apostle says," returned herfather; "that is when we feel our weakness and trust in the strength ofour Almighty Saviour; of him who has said, 'In me is thine help.' It ishelp, daughter, which is never refused to those who look humbly to Jesusfor it."
"I am so glad the Bible tells us that," she said.
They walked on in silence for a little, then Lulu said, "Papa, I askedCousin Molly last night if Professor Manton still had his school atOakdale. She said, 'Yes, is your papa going to send you there?' and Iwas so glad I could answer, 'No, ma'am; he is going to teach mehimself.' Then Cousin Molly said, 'Oh, is he? I am sure that will be farpleasanter for you, dear. The professor is not very popular, and I hearthat his school grows smaller.'"
"Ah, then, don't you think it would be only kind in me to put my eldestdaughter there as a pupil?" asked the captain jestingly.
"Not to me, papa, I am sure," she answered, lifting to his smiling eyesthat said as plainly as any words could have spoken that she had no fearthat he would do any such thing.
"No; and I do not know what could induce me to do so," he returned. "Soyou need never ask it, but must try to content yourself with the tutorwho has had charge of your education ever since Woodburn became ourhome."
"I don't need to try, papa," she said with a happy laugh; "for it's justas easy as anything. Gracie and I both think there was never such adear, kind teacher as ours. Neither of us wants ever to have any other."
"Ah! then we are mutually pleased. And now I think we should turn and goback to the house, for it must be near the breakfast hour." They foundViolet, Grace, and the little ones on the veranda, awaiting theircoming, and breakfast ready to be served.
Morning greetings were exchanged and all repaired to the breakfast room.
The meal proved a dainty one, was daintily served and enlivened bycheerful chat on such themes as were not unsuited to the sacredness ofthe day.
Family worship followed, and soon after the family carriage was at thedoor ready to convey them to the church of which their Cousin Cyril waspastor.
The captain, Violet, and the two little girls, Lulu and Grace, formedthe deputation from that family, the two babies remaining at home inthe care of their nurse, whom they had brought with them from Woodburn.
Cyril gave them an excellent sermon, and at the close of the exercisesconducted a Bible class attended by nearly every one belonging to thecongregation.
The Viamede family remained to its close, held a little pleasant talkwith the relatives from the parsonage and Magnolia Hall, then drove backto Viamede, reaching there just in time for dinner.
In the afternoon the captain gathered his family and the servants underthe trees in the lawn, read and expounded a portion of scripture, andled them in prayer and the singing of several familiar hymns.
The evening was spent much as it would have been at Woodburn, and allretired early to rest.
Monday morning found them all in good health and spirits, entirelyrecovered from the fatigues of the journey and ready for work or play.
"We don't have to learn and recite lessons to-day, papa, do we?" askedLulu, at the breakfast table. "I think you said we could have a day ortwo for play first, didn't you?"
"Yes; but I shall give you your choice of having that playtime now ortaking it about a week hence, when you will have Rosie and Walter withyou."
"May I choose too, papa?" asked Grace.
"Yes."
"Then I choose to wait for my holiday till the others are here to shareit with us; for don't you suppose Grandma Elsie will let them, papa?"
"No doubt of it," he replied. "And what is your choice, Lulu?"
"The same as Gracie's, papa," she answered in bright cheerful tones."Lessons are not bad to take, with you for my teacher," she addedlaughingly, "and will leave us a good deal of time for running about andlooking at everything."
"Besides an occasional drive or walk with mamma and papa," hesupplemented, with an approving smile, adding, "the lessons shall not belong or hard to-day, so that you will still have some time for roamingabout the grounds; and perhaps, if my pupils are very deserving, theremay be a row on the bayou after dinner."
"Oh, how delightful, papa!" they cried, in a breath.
"I am glad you think so," he said, smiling on them; "there is nothing Ienjoy more than giving pleasure to my wife and children," with anaffectionate gl
ance at Violet. "I hope such a little excursion willafford you pleasure, my dear?"
"Yes," she returned gayly, "I think even the children will hardly enjoyit more than I; and," she added laughingly, "I shall endeavor to earn myright to it by faithfully attending to housekeeping matters in themeantime."
"I don't believe there is any schoolroom here!" exclaimed Grace, as ifstruck with a sudden thought.
"We will have to select one and get it ready before the others come,"said Violet.
"And for the present my dressing-room will answer very well," added thecaptain.
So thither the children repaired at the usual hour for beginning theirstudies.
It was at first a little difficult to fix their attention upon them, butwith an earnest desire to do right, and to please their dear father,they made very determined efforts, and had their lessons well preparedby the time he came to hear them.
It seemed to afford him pleasure to give the deserved meed of praise,and the young faces grew bright and gladsome under it. An hour was thengiven to writing and ciphering, and they were dismissed for the day.
"May we go out into the grounds now, papa?" asked Lulu, as she put upher books.
"Yes," he replied, "but keep near the house for the present, for it isnear dinner-time now."
"We will, papa," both little girls answered and hurried away.
They sported about the lawn till summoned to the house by thedinner-bell, whose call they obeyed with alacrity, air and exercisehaving given them good appetites.
"My dear," the captain said to his wife, near the conclusion of themeal, "you have had a busy morning, can you not afford to devote theafternoon to recreation?"
"Certainly, if you will share it," she replied. "Are we not to have thatrow on the bayou?"
"It is what I had planned, should my wife still feel inclined to go," hesaid.
"Ah! that will be very enjoyable I think; and perhaps there may be timeafterward for me to drive over to the parsonage. I want a bit of chatwith Isa about some household matters."
"Yes, I think you may have time for both," he returned. "An hour on thebayou will be sufficient for this first time; the carriage can beordered to be in waiting when we return, and you, if the plan suits yourviews, can drive over to the parsonage at once, have your talk, and beat home again in season to pour out your husband's tea."
"That will do nicely, thank you, sir," she returned gayly. "I see I amnot likely to lack for diversion with you at the head of affairs, so Ithink I shall try to keep you there as long as possible."
"I hope you will, Mamma Vi," said Lulu, "And any way I'm glad that whenpapa is about, he is the one that has control of me."
"So I have at least one willing subject," remarked the captain, lookingnot ill-pleased.
"Two, papa," said Grace, "you can always count on me for one."
"I don't doubt it in the least, dear child," he said. "And now, as I seeyou have all finished your dinner, and the boat is at the wharf, let usbe going."
In a few minutes all were seated in the boat, and it was moving rapidlyover the water, the children very merry, the parents by no meansdisposed to check the manifestations of their mirth.
They found the carriage in waiting when they landed.
"You are going with us, Levis?" Violet said inquiringly, as the captainhanded her in.
"I should be pleased to do so, my dear, but have too many businessletters calling for immediate reply," he said, lifting little Ned, andthen Elsie, to a place by her side. "Lulu and Gracie, you would like togo with your mamma?"
"Yes, sir, if I may," Grace answered with alacrity, but Lulu declined,saying: "I would much rather stay with you, papa, if I may."
"Certainly, dear child; I shall be glad to have you," he said with apleased look; "but I fear you will find it dull, as I shall be too busyto talk to you, or let you talk to me."
"But I can be with you, and perhaps of some use waiting on you, papa."
"Perhaps so," he said. "You generally contrive to make yourself usefulto your father in one way or another."
Then the carriage drove on, Lulu slipped her hand into his, and togetherthey walked back to the house.
"I do hope I can find something to do that will be a help to you, papa,"she said, as they entered the library.
"I verily believe my dear eldest daughter would like to carry all herfather's burdens if she could," he said, laying his hand caressingly onher head, "but it wouldn't be good for me, my darling, to have my lifemade too easy."
"I am sure it wouldn't hurt you, papa, and I only wish I could carry allyour burdens," she replied, with an ardently affectionate look up intohis face. "Isn't there something I can do now?"
"Yes," he replied, glancing at the table; "here are papers, magazines,and letters, quite a pile. You may cut leaves and open envelopes for me,that will save me some time and exertion--be quite a help."
"Yes, sir; I'll be glad to do it all. But, oh, papa," and a bright,eager look came into her face.
"Well, daughter, what is it?" as she paused half breathless with her newidea.
"Papa, couldn't I write some of the letters for you? Here is mytypewriter that you so kindly let me bring along. I've learned to writepretty fast on it, you know, and wouldn't it be easier for you just totell me the words you want said and let me put them down, than to do itall yourself with either it or your pen?"
"That is a bright thought, daughter," he said, patting her cheek, andsmiling down upon her. "I dare say that plan would shorten my workconsiderably."
"Oh, I shall be so glad if it does, papa!" she exclaimed. "There isnothing in the world I'd enjoy more than finding myself a real help andcomfort to you."
"I have found you both many a time, daughter," he responded, taking upand opening a letter as he spoke, while she picked up a paper cutter andfell zealously to work opening envelopes, laying each one close to hishand as she had it ready.
"Now, you may get your typewriter ready for work," he said presently."Put in a sheet of this paper," taking some from a drawer in the tableand laying it beside the machine, "date it, and in a moment I will tellyou what to say."
He had already instructed her carefully in punctuation and paragraphing:spelling also; and, with an occasional direction in regard to suchmatters, she did her work well.
She was full of joy when at the close of the business he bestowed uponher a judicious amount of praise and said that she had proved a greathelp to him, shortening his labor very considerably.
"I think," he concluded, "that before long my dear eldest daughter willprove a valuable amanuensis for me."
"Papa, I am so glad!" she cried, her cheeks flushing and her eyessparkling. "Oh, there is nothing else in the world that I enjoy so muchas being a help and comfort to my dear, dear father!"
"My precious little daughter," he responded, "words cannot express thelove your father feels for you. Now there is one letter that I wish towrite with my own hand, and while I am doing that you may amuse yourselfin any way you like."
"May I read this, papa?" she asked, taking up a magazine.
"Yes," he said, and she went quietly from the room with it in her hand.
She seated herself on the back veranda, read a short story, then stolesoftly back to the library door to see if her father had finished hisletter so that she might talk to him.
But some one else was there; a stranger she thought, though she did notget a view of his face.
She paused on the threshold, uncertain whether her father would wish herto be present at the interview, and at that instant he spoke, apparentlyin reply to something his caller had said, and his words riveted her tothe spot.
"No," he said, in stern tones, "had I been here my daughter would neverhave been sent back to your school. She was most unjustly and shamefullytreated by that fiery little Italian, and you, sir, upheld him in it.When I am at hand no daughter of mine shall be struck by another man, orwoman either, with impunity, and Foresti may deem himself fortunate inthat I was at a distance when
he ventured to commit so great an outrageupon my child."
Lulu waited to hear no more, but ran back to the veranda, where shedanced about in a tumult of delight, clapping her hands and sayingexultingly to herself, "I just knew papa wouldn't have made me go backto that horrid school and take lessons of that brute of a man. Oh, I dowish he had been here! How much it would have saved me! If my father isstrict and stern sometimes, he's ever so much better and kinder thanGrandpa Dinsmore. Yes, yes, indeed, he's such a dear father! I wouldn'texchange him for any other, if I could."
Presently she suddenly ceased her jumping and dancing, and stood in anintently listening attitude.
"Yes, he's going--that horrid professor! I'm so glad! I don't believehe'll ever trouble this house again, while papa is in it any way," shesaid half aloud.
Then running to meet her father as he returned from seeing the professorto the door, she threw her arms round him, exclaiming in a voicequivering with delight. "Oh, you dear, dear papa, I'm so glad, so gladto know that you wouldn't have made me go back to that horrid musicteacher! I felt sure at the time that you wouldn't, if you were here."
He heard her with a look of astonishment not unmixed with sternness.
"O papa, please don't be angry with me!" she pleaded, tears starting toher eyes; "I didn't mean to listen, but I happened to be at the librarydoor (I was going back to see if you were done writing that letter and Imight be with you again) when you told Professor Manton that youwouldn't have sent me back to Signor Foresti, nor even to his school. Itmade me so glad, papa, but I didn't stop to hear any more, but ran awayto the veranda again; because I knew it wouldn't be right for me tolisten to what wasn't intended for me to hear."
He took her hand, led her into the library again, drew her to a seatupon his knee, and softly smoothing back the hair from her forehead,said in kind, fatherly tones, "I am not displeased with you, daughter.I understand that it was quite accidental, and I am sure my little girlis entirely above the meanness of intentionally listening to what isevidently not meant for her ear. And in fact, now that I think of it,I am not sorry that you know I did not, and do not now, approve of thetreatment you received at that time. Yet that was the first time I hadever mentioned it to any one, and I should be sorry to have your GrandpaDinsmore know, or suspect, how entirely I disapproved of what he thoughtbest to do at the time. Can, and will, my little daughter promise tokeep the secret? never mentioning it to any one but me?"
"Yes, indeed, papa," she returned, looking up brightly into his face."Oh, it's nice to be trusted by you, and not even threatened withpunishment if I disobey!"
"I am happy to think that is by no means necessary," he said, drawingher into a closer embrace. "I believe my little girl loves her fatherwell enough to do of her own free will what she knows he would have herdo."
"Yes, indeed, papa," she answered earnestly; "and do you know, it seemsa great pleasure to have a secret along with you. But, papa, why did youwrite--after I had confessed it all to you--as if you were so muchdispleased with me that you couldn't let me stay any longer at Ionafter you had found another place to put me?"
"My child, as I had put you under Grandpa Dinsmore's care, it was yourduty to submit to his orders till I could be heard from in regard to thematter. You should therefore have gone back, not only to the school, butto the music teacher, when he directed you to do so; you were disobeyingme in refusing, and also showing great ingratitude to the kind friendswho were doing so much for you without your having the slightest claimupon them."
"Papa, I am very sorry and ashamed," she murmured low and tremulously,hanging her head and blushing deeply as she spoke; "I almost want you topunish me well for it yet."
"No, daughter, that account was settled long ago," he said in kindly,reassuring accents, "fully settled, and I have no desire to open itagain."
"But, oh, papa," she sighed, "sometimes I do feel so afraid I may getinto a passion with somebody about something while we're here thiswinter, with all the Ion folks, that--that I believe I want you to sayyou will punish me very severely if I do."
"My daughter," he said, "I want you to avoid sin and strive to do right,not from fear of punishment, but that you may please and honor him whosedisciple you hope you are."
"Oh, yes, papa, I do want to for that reason and also to please andhonor you--the best and dearest father in the world!" she concluded,putting her arms round his neck and laying her cheek lovingly to his."But you will watch me and warn me and try to keep me from yielding tomy dreadful temper?"
"Yes, dear child, I will, as I have promised you again and again, do allI can to help you in that way," he replied in tenderest tones.
Then, as the carriage-wheels were heard on the drive without, "Ah, yourmamma and our little ones have returned," he said, putting her off hisknee; and taking her hand led her out to the veranda to meet and welcomethem home.