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HOLIDAYS AT ROSELANDS
A SEQUEL TO ELSIE DINSMORE
BY MARTHA FINLEY
Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1868, by M.W. DODD,in the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States forthe Southern District of New York.
Copyright, 1898, by DODD, MEAD & COMPANY.
"Hope not sunshine every hour,Fear not clouds will always lower."
--Burns.
Elsie's Holidays at Roselands.
CHAPTER I.
"Oh Truth,Thou art, whilst tenant in a noble breast,A crown of crystal in an iv'ry chest."
Elsie felt in better spirits in the morning; her sleep had refreshed her,and she arose with a stronger confidence in the love of both her earthlyand her heavenly Father.
She found her papa ready, and waiting for her. He took her in his armsand kissed her tenderly. "My precious little daughter," he said, "papa isvery glad to see you looking so bright and cheerful this morning. I thinksomething was wrong with my little girl last night. Why did she not cometo papa with her trouble?"
"_Why_ did you think I was in trouble, papa?" she asked, hiding her faceon his breast.
"How could I think otherwise, when my little girl did not come to bid megood night, though she had not seen me since dinner; and when I went togive her a good-night kiss I found her pillow wet, and a tear on hercheek?"
"_Did_ you come, papa?" she asked, looking up in glad surprise.
"I did. Now tell me what troubled you, my own one?"
"I am afraid you will be angry with me, papa," she said, almost under herbreath.
"Not half so angry as if you refuse to give me your confidence. I wouldbe glad to know that my little daughter had not a single thought orfeeling concealed from me."
He paused a moment, looking down at the little blushing face, half hiddenon his breast, then went on:
"Elsie, daughter, you are more precious to me than aught else in thewide world, and you need not fear that any other can ever take your placein my heart, or that I will make any connection that would render youunhappy. I want no one to love but my little girl; and you must not letthe gossip of the servants disturb you."
Elsie looked up in unfeigned astonishment.
"Papa! you seem to know everything about me. Can you read my thoughts?"
"_Almost_, when I can see your face," he answered, smiling at her puzzledlook. "I cannot quite, though; but I can put things together and make apretty good guess, sometimes."
She lay still on his breast for a moment; then, raising her eyes timidlyto his face again, she said in a half-hesitating way, "I am afraid it isvery naughty in me, papa, but I can't help thinking that Miss Stevensis very disagreeable. I felt so that very first day, and I did not wantto take a present from her, because it didn't seem exactly right when Ididn't like her, but I couldn't refuse--she wouldn't let me--and I havetried to like her since, but I can't."
"Well, darling, I don't think I am just the proper person to reprove youfor _that_," he replied, trying to look grave, "for I am afraid I am asnaughty as you are. But we won't talk any more about her. See what I havefor you this morning."
He pointed to the table, where lay a pile of prettily bound books, whichElsie had not noticed until this moment. They were Abbot's works. Elsiehad read several of his historical tales, and liked them very much; andher father could hardly have given a more acceptable present.
"I was sorry for your disappointment yesterday," he said, "but I hopethese will make up for it, and they will give you a great deal of usefulinformation, as well as amusement; while it could only be an injuryto you to read that trashy book."
Elsie was turning over the books with eager delight.
"_Dear_ papa, you are so kind and good to me," she said, laying them downto put her arms around his neck and kiss him. "I like these books verymuch, and I don't at all care to read that other one since you have toldme you do not approve of it."
"That is my own darling child," said he, returning her caress, "yourready obedience deserved a reward. Now put on your hat, and we will takeour walk."
Mr. Travilla joined them in the avenue, and his kind heart rejoiced tosee how the clouds of care and sorrow had all passed away from his littlefriend's face, leaving it bright and beaming, as usual. Her father hadone hand, and Mr. Travilla soon possessed himself of the other.
"I don't altogether like these company-days, when you have to be banishedfrom the table, little Elsie," he remarked. "I cannot half enjoy mybreakfast without your bright face to look at."
"I don't like them either, Mr. Travilla, because I see so little of papa.I haven't had a ride with him since the company came."
"You shall have one this afternoon, if nothing happens," said her fatherquickly. "What do you say, Travilla, to a ride on horseback with the fouryoung ladies you took charge of yesterday, and myself?"
"Bravo! I shall be delighted to be of the party, if the ladies don'tobject; eh! Elsie, what do you think?" with a questioning look down intoher glad face, "will they want me?"
"You needn't be a bit afraid, Mr. Travilla," laughed the little girl; "Ilike you next to papa, and I believe Lucy and the rest like you better."
"Oh! take care, Elsie; are you not afraid of hurting his feelings?"
"No danger, as long as _she_ puts me first," Mr. Dinsmore said, bestowinga smile and loving glance on her.
Caroline Howard was in Elsie's room, waiting to show her bracelet, whichhad just been handed to her by her maid; Pomp having brought it from thecity late the night before.
"Oh! Elsie, I am so glad you have come at last. I have been waiting forhalf an hour, I should think, to show you these," she said, as Elsie camein from her walk. "But how bright and merry you look; so different fromlast night! what ailed you then?"
"Never mind," replied Elsie, taking the bracelet from her hand, andexamining it. "Oh! this is _very_ pretty, Carry! the clasp is sobeautiful, and they have braided the hair so nicely."
"Yes, I'm sure mamma will like it. But now that Christmas is gone, Ithink I will keep it for a New Year's gift. Wouldn't you, Elsie?"
"Yes, perhaps--but I want to tell you, Carry, what papa says. He and Mr.Travilla are going to take you, and Lucy, and Mary, and me, riding onhorseback this afternoon. Don't you think it will be pleasant?"
"Oh, it will be _grand_!" exclaimed Carry. "Elsie, I think now that yourpapa is very kind; and do you know I like him very much, indeed; quite aswell as I do Mr. Travilla, and I always liked _him_--he's so pleasant,and so funny, too, sometimes. But I must go and show my bracelet to Lucy.Hark! no, there's the bell, and I'll just leave it here until afterbreakfast."
Elsie opened a drawer and laid it carefully in, and they ran off to thenursery.
"Elsie," said her father, when they had finished the morning lessons,"there is to be a children's party to-night, at Mr. Carleton's, and Ihave an invitation for you. Would you like to go?"
"Do you wish me to go, papa?" she asked.
"Not unless _you_ wish to do so, daughter," he said kindly. "I cannot gowith you, as there are to be none but little people, and I never feelaltogether comfortable in seeing my darling go from home without me; andyou will, no doubt, be very late in returning and getting to bed, and Ifear will feel badly to-morrow in consequence; but this once, at least,you shall just please yourself. All your little guests are going, and itwould be dull and lonesome for you at home, I am afraid."
Elsie thought a moment.
"Dear papa, you are very kind," she said, "but if you please, I wouldmuch rather have you decide for me, because I am only a silly
littlegirl, and you are so much older and wiser."
He smiled, and stroked her hair softly, but said nothing.
"Are you going to stay at home, papa?" she asked presently.
"Yes, daughter, I expect to spend the evening either in this room or thelibrary, as I have letters to write."
"Oh, then, papa, please let me stay with you! I would like it _much_better than going to the party; will you, papa? please say yes."
"But you know I cannot talk to you, or let you talk; so that it will bevery dull," he said, pushing back the curls from the fair forehead, andsmiling down into the eager little face.
"Oh! but if you will only let me sit beside you and read one of my newbooks, I shall be quite contented, and sit as quiet as a little mouse,and not say one word without leave. Mayn't I, papa?"
"I said you should do as you pleased, darling, and I always love to havemy pet near me."
"Oh, then I shall stay!" she cried, clapping her hands.
Then, with a happy little sigh, "It will be so nice," she said, "to haveone of our quiet evenings again." And she knew, by her father's gratifiedlook, that she had decided as he would have had her.
A servant put his head in at the door.
"Massa Horace, dere's a gen'leman in de library axin for to see you."
"Very well, Jim, tell him I will be there in a moment. Elsie, dear, putaway your books, and go down to your little friends."
"Yes, papa, I will," she replied, as he went out and left her.
"How kind papa is to me, and how I do love him!" she murmured to herselfas she placed the books carefully in the drawer where they belonged.
She found Lucy and Mary busily engaged in dressing a doll, and Carrydeeply interested in a book. But several of the little ones were lookingquite disconsolate.
"Oh, Elsie, do come and play with us," said Flora; "Enna won't playanything we like. We've been playing keeping house, but Enna will bemother all the time, and she scolds and whips us so much that we are alltired of it."
"Well, what shall we play?" asked Elsie, good-naturedly. "Will you buildhouses?"
"No, I'm tired of that, because Enna takes all the blocks," said anotherlittle girl. "She isn't at all polite to visitors, is she, Flora?"
"No," replied Flora, "and I don't _ever_ mean to come to see her again."
"I don't care," retorted Enna, angrily, "and I don't take _all_ theblocks, either."
"Well, _most_ all, you do," said the other, "and it isn't polite."
"They're mine, and I'll have as many as I want; and I don't care if it_isn't_ polite," Enna answered, with a pout that by no means improved herappearance.
"Will you play 'O sister, O Phebe?'" asked Elsie.
"No, no!" cried several little voices, "Enna always wants to be in themiddle; and besides, Arthur always wants to play, and he will kiss us;and we don't like it."
Elsie was almost in despair; but Herbert, who was lying on a sofa,reading, suddenly shut his book, saying, "I tell you what, Elsie! tell usone of those nice fairy stories we all like so much!"
"Yes, do, do!" cried several of the little ones, clapping their hands.
So Elsie drew up a stool close to Herbert's sofa, and the little onesclustered around her, Enna insisting on having the best place forhearing; and for more than an hour she kept them quiet and interested;but was very glad when at last the maid came to take them out walking,thus leaving her at liberty to follow her own inclination.
"What are you going to do now, Elsie?" asked Caroline, closing her book.
"I am going down to the drawing-room to ask Aunt Adelaide to show me howto crochet this mitten for mammy," Elsie answered.
"Won't you come along, girls?"
"Yes, let's take our sewing down there," said Lucy, gathering up the bitsof muslin and silk, and putting them in her work-box.
Elsie glanced hastily around as they entered, and gave a satisfied littlesigh on perceiving that Miss Stevens was not in the room, and that herAunt Adelaide was seated with her embroidery near one of the windows,while her papa sat near by, reading the morning paper.
The little girls soon established themselves in a group on the oppositeside of Miss Adelaide's window, and she very good-naturedly gave Elsiethe assistance she needed.
"Elsie," said Lucy, presently, in an undertone, "Carry has been showingus her bracelet, and I think it is beautiful; she won't tell whose hairit is--I guess it's her sister's, maybe--but I'm sure yours would makejust as pretty a bracelet, and I want one for my mamma; won't you give meone of your curls to make it? you have so many that one would neverbe missed."
"No, Miss Lucy," said Mr. Dinsmore, looking at them over his paper, "youcan't have one of my curls; I can't spare it."
"I don't want one of _your_ curls, Mr. Dinsmore," laughed Lucy, merrily."I didn't ask for it. Your hair is very pretty, too, but it would bequite too short."
"I beg your pardon, Miss Lucy, if my ears deceived me," said he, withmock gravity, "but I was quite certain I heard you asking for one of mycurls. Perhaps, though, you are not aware of the fact that my curls growon two heads."
"I don't know what you mean, Mr. Dinsmore," replied Lucy, laughing again,"but it was one of Elsie's curls I asked for."
"Elsie doesn't own any," said he; "they all belong to me. I let her wearthem, to be sure, but that is all; she has no right to give them away."
He turned to his paper again, and Elsie bent over her work, her faceflushed, and her little hand trembling so that she could scarcely holdher needle.
"I'm afraid I ought to tell papa," she thought, "that I did give one ofmy curls away. I never thought about his caring, but I might have known,because when I wanted my hair cut last summer, he said they shouldn't oneof them be touched. Oh! dear, why didn't I think of that? I am afraid hewill be very much displeased."
"Don't tell him, then," whispered the tempter, "he is not likely ever tomiss it."
"Nay, but it would be _wrong_ to hide your fault," said conscience.
"I _will_ tell him," she resolved.
"Wait till to-morrow, then," whispered the tempter again; "if you tellhim now, very likely he will deprive you of your ride this afternoon, asa punishment."
So the struggle went on in the little breast while others were chattingand laughing around her, never suspecting what a battle the little girlwas fighting within her own heart.
Presently Lucy jumped up. "Oh! I am so tired sewing; come, girls, let'sput on our things, and take a run in the garden."
Carry and Mary readily assented.
"I must speak to papa first," Elsie said in a half whisper, "but don'twait for me."
She had spoken low, but not so low that his quick ear did not catch thesound. He had heard her, and laying his paper down on his knee, as theother little girls ran away, he turned half round and held out his hand,asking, with a smile, "Well, daughter, what is it? what have you to sayto papa?"
She went to him at once, and he was surprised to see how she wastrembling, and that her cheeks were flushed and her eyes full of tears.
"Why! what ails my darling?" he asked tenderly.
Adelaide had left the room a moment before, and there was no one nearenough to hear.
"Please, papa, don't be very angry with me," she pleaded, speaking verylow and hesitatingly. "I did not know you cared about my curls; I did notthink about their belonging to you, and I did give one to Carry."
He was silent a moment, evidently surprised at her confession; then hesaid gently, "No, dearest, I will not be angry this time, and I feel sureyou will not do so again, now you know that I _do_ care."
"No, _indeed_, I will not, dear papa," she replied in a tone of intenserelief. "But you are not going to punish me?" she asked, beginning totremble again. "I was _so_ afraid to tell you, lest you would say Ishould not have my ride this afternoon."
"Why, then, did you not put off your confession until after the ride?" heasked, looking searchingly into her face.
"I wanted to very much, papa," she said, looking down an
d blushingdeeply, "but I knew it would be very wrong."
"My dear, conscientious little daughter," he said, taking her on hisknee, "your father loves you better than ever for this new proof of yourhonesty and truthfulness. Deprive you of your ride? no, indeed, I feelfar more like rewarding than punishing you. Ah! I had forgotten! I havesomething for you;" and he put his hand into his pocket and brought outa letter.
"Oh! it is from Miss Rose! dear, darling Miss Rose!" was Elsie's joyfulexclamation, as he put it in her hand.
She made a movement as if to get down from his knee, but he detained her.
"Sit still and read it here, darling," he said, "I love to have you on myknee, and if there are any hard places I can help you."
"Thank you, papa; sometimes there are hard places--at least pretty hardfor a little girl like me--though I think Miss Rose tries to writeplainly because she knows that I cannot read writing as well as bigpeople can."
She was eagerly tearing off the envelope while she answered him, and thensettling herself comfortably she began to read.
He watched with deep interest the varying expression of her fine opencountenance as she read. Once or twice she asked him to tell her a word,but the most of it she got through without any difficulty.
At last she had finished.
"It is such a nice letter, papa," she said as she folded it up, "and sogood of Miss Rose to write to me again so soon."
"Are you not going to let _me_ enjoy it, too?" he asked.
She put it into his hand instantly, saying, with a blush, "I did not knowyou would care to read it, papa."
"I am interested in all that gives either pleasure or pain to my littlegirl," he answered gently. "I wish to be a sharer in all her joys andsorrows."
Elsie watched him while he read, almost as intently as he had watchedher; for she was anxious that he should be pleased with Miss Rose'sletter.
It was a cheerful, pleasant letter, well suited to interest a child ofElsie's years; giving an account of home scenes; telling of her littlebrothers and sisters, their love for each other; the little gifts theyhad prepared in anticipation of Christmas, etc., etc.
At the close she made some allusion to Elsie's letters, and expressed herheartfelt sympathy in her little friend's happiness.
"I am so glad, my darling," she wrote, "that your father now loves you sodearly, and that you are so happy in his love. My heart ached for you inthe bitter disappointment of your first meeting with him. It is true younever said that you were disappointed, but there was a tone of deepsadness in your dear little letter, the cause of which I--who knew sowell how you had looked and longed for his return, and how your littleheart yearned for his affection--could not fail to guess. But, dearchild, while you thus rejoice in an _earthly_ father's love, do notforget that you have a Father in Heaven, who claims the _first_ place inyour heart; and who is the giver of every good gift, not even exceptingthe precious love that now makes your young life so bright and happy.Keep close to Jesus, dear Elsie: His is the only _truly satisfying_love--the only one we can be certain will never fail us."
"Is it not a nice letter, papa?" asked the little girl, as he refoldedand gave it to her again.
"Very nice, daughter," he answered, in an absent way. He looked verygrave, and Elsie studied his countenance intently while, for somemoments, he sat with his eyes bent thoughtfully upon the carpet. Shefeared that something in the letter had displeased him. But presently helooked at her with his usual affectionate smile, and laying his handcaressingly on her head, said, "Miss Allison seems to warn you not totrust too much to the permanence of my affection; but you need not fearthat you will ever lose it, unless, indeed, you cease to be deserving ofit. No, nor even then," he added, drawing her closer to him, "for evenshould you grow very naughty and troublesome, you would still be _mychild_--a part of myself and of my lost Elsie, and therefore very dear tome."
"Ah! papa, how could I ever _bear_ to lose your love? I think I shoulddie," she said, dropping her head on his breast, with almost a sob. "Oh!if I am ever very, _very_ naughty, papa, punish me as severely as youwill; but oh, never, _never_ quit _loving_ me."
"Set your heart at rest, my darling," he said, tenderly, "there is nodanger of such a thing. I could not do it, if I wished."
Ah! there came a time when Elsie had sore need of all the comfort thememory of those words could give.
"What are you going to wear to Isabel Carleton's party, to-night, Elsie?"asked Lucy, at the dinner table.
"Nothing," replied Elsie, with an arch smile, "I am not going, Lucy," sheadded.
"Not going! well, now, that is _too_ bad," cried Lucy, indignantly. "Ithink it's really mean of your papa; he never lets you go anywhere."
"Oh, Lucy! he let me go to town with Carry the other day; he has letme stay up late two or three nights since you came; he is going to letme ride with the rest of you this afternoon, and he said that I mightdo just as I pleased about going to-night," Elsie summed up rathertriumphantly, adding, in a very pleasant tone, "It is entirely my ownchoice to stay at home; so you see, Lucy, you must not blame my papabefore you know."
Lucy looked a little ashamed, while Mary Leslie exclaimed:
"Your own choice, Elsie? why, how strange! don't you like parties?"
"Not nearly so well as a quiet evening with papa," replied Elsie,smiling.
"Well, you are a queer girl!" was Mary's comment, while Carolineexpressed her disappointment and vainly endeavored to change Elsie'sdetermination. The little girl was firm, because she felt sure she wasdoing right, and soon managed to change the subject of conversation tothe pleasure nearest at hand--the ride they were to take immediatelyafter dinner.
They were a merry party, and really enjoyed themselves about as much asthey had expected; but they returned earlier than usual, as the gentlemendecided that the little ladies needed some time to rest before theevening entertainment.
Elsie assisted her young friends to dress for the party--generouslyoffering to lend them any of her ornaments that they might fancy--sawthem come down, one after another, full of mirth and eager expectation,and looking so pretty and graceful in their beautiful evening-dresses,heard their expressions of commiseration toward herself, and watched thelast carriage roll away without a sigh or regret that she was leftbehind. And in another moment a graceful little figure glided quietlyacross the library, and sitting down on a stool at Mr. Dinsmore's feet,looked lovingly into his face with a pair of soft, dark eyes.
His pen was moving rapidly over the paper, but ere long there was apause, and laying his hand caressingly on the curly head, he said, "Howquiet my little girl is; but where is your book, daughter?"
"If you please, papa, I would rather answer Miss Rose's letter."
"You may," he said, "and if you want to stay with me, you may ring thebell and tell the servant to bring your writing desk here."
She joyfully availed herself of the permission, and soon her pen wasvainly trying to keep pace with her father's. But presently his wasthrown aside, and rising, he stood behind her chair, giving herdirections how to sit, how to hold the pen, how to form this or thatletter more correctly, guiding her hand, and commending her efforts toimprove.
"There, you have spelled a word wrong, and I see you have one or twocapitals where there should be a small letter; and that last sentence isnot perfectly grammatical," he said. "You must let me correct it when youare done, and then you must copy it off more carefully."
Elsie looked very much mortified.
"Never mind, daughter," he said kindly, patting her cheek; "you do verywell for a _little_ girl; I dare say I made a great many more mistakes atyour age, and I don't expect you to do better than I did."
"Oh, papa, the letters I sent you when you were away must have been fullof blunders, I am afraid," she said, blushing deeply; "were you not verymuch ashamed of me? How could you bear to read them?"
"Ashamed of you, darling? No, indeed, neither of you nor them. I lovedthem all the better for the mistakes, because they showed ho
w entirelyyour own they were; and I could not but be pleased with them when everyline breathed such love to me. My little daughter's confidence andaffection are worth more to me than the finest gold, or the mostpriceless jewels."
He bent down and kissed her fondly as he spoke; then, returning to hisseat, bade her finish her letter and bring it to him when done.
He took up his pen, and Elsie collected her thoughts once more, workedbusily and silently for another half hour, and then brought her sheet tohim for inspection; presenting it with a timid, bashful air, "I am afraidit is very full of mistakes, papa," she said.
"Never mind, daughter," he answered, encouragingly; "I know that it takesa great deal of practice to make perfect, and it will be a great pleasureto me to see you improve."
He looked over it, pointed out the mistakes very kindly and gently,put the capitals in their proper places, corrected the punctuation,and showed her how one or two of her sentences might be improved.
Then, handing it back, he said, "You had better put it in your desk now,and leave the copying until to-morrow, as it will soon be your bedtime,and I want you on my knee until then."
Elsie's face grew very bright, and she hastened to do his bidding.
"And may I talk, papa?" she asked, as he pushed away his writing, wheeledhis chair about toward the fire, and then took her on his knee.
"Yes," he said, smiling, "that is exactly what I want you to do. Tell mewhat you have been doing all day, and how you are enjoying your holidays;or talk to me of anything that pleases, or that troubles you. I love tobe made the confidant of my little girl's joys and sorrows; and I wanther always to feel that she is sure of papa's sympathy."
"I am so glad that I may tell you everything, my own papa," she answered,putting her arm around his neck, and laying her cheek to his. "I haveenjoyed this day very much, because I have been with you nearly all thetime; and then, I had that nice letter from Miss Rose, too."
"Yes, it was a very pleasant letter," he said; and then he asked herwhat she had been doing in those hours when she had not been with him;and she gave him an animated account of the occurrences of that andseveral of the preceding days, and told of some little accidents thathad happened--amongst them that of the broken doll; and spoke of thesorrow it had caused her; but she did not blame either Flora or Enna,and concluded her narrative by saying that, "good, kind Mrs. Brown hadmended it, so that it was almost as good as ever."
He listened with evident interest to all she said, expressed sympathy inher little trials, and gave her some good advice.
But at length he drew out his watch, and with an exclamation of surpriseat the lateness of the hour, told her it was half an hour after herbedtime, kissed her good-night, and dismissed her to her room.