CHAPTER XIII.
"Joy! the lost one is restored!!Sunshine comes to hearth and board."
MRS. HEMANS.
"O remembrance!Why dost thou open all my wounds again?"
LEE'S THEODOSIUS.
"I am a fool,To weep at what I am glad of."
SHAKS. TEMPEST.
"But these are tears of joy! to see you thus, has filledMy eyes with more delight than they can hold."
CONGREVE.
Mr. Dinsmore was roused from the painful reverie into which he hadfallen by a light rap on his dressing-room door; and, supposing it tobe some one sent to consult him concerning the necessary arrangementsfor the funeral, he rose and opened it at once, showing to the doctor,who stood there, such a grief-stricken countenance as caused him tohesitate whether to communicate his glad tidings without some previouspreparation, lest the sudden reaction from such despairing grief to joyso intense should be too great for the father to bear.
"You wish to speak to me about the--"
Mr. Dinsmore's voice was husky and low, and he paused, unable to finishhis sentence.
"Come in, doctor," he said, "it is very kind in you, and--"
"Mr. Dinsmore," said the doctor, interrupting him, "are you prepared forgood news? can you bear it, my dear sir?"
Mr. Dinsmore caught at the furniture for support, and gasped for breath.
"What is it?" he asked hoarsely.
"_Good_ news, I said," Dr. Barton hastened to say, as he sprang to hisside to prevent him from falling. "Your child yet lives, and though herlife still hangs by a thread, the crisis is past, and I have some hopethat she may recover."
"Thank God! thank God!" exclaimed the father, sinking into a seat; andburying his face in his hands, he sobbed aloud.
The doctor went out and closed the door softly; and Horace Dinsmore,falling upon his knees, poured out his thanksgivings, and then and thereconsecrated himself, with all his talents and possessions, to the serviceof that God who had so mercifully spared to him his heart's besttreasure.
Adelaide's joy and thankfulness were scarcely less than his, when to her,also, the glad and wondrous tidings were communicated. And Mr. Travillaand his mother shared their happiness, as they had shared their sorrow.Yet they all rejoiced with trembling, for that little life was still formany days trembling in the balance; and to the father's anxiety was alsoadded the heavy trial of being excluded from her room.
The physician had early informed him that it would be risking her lifefor him to enter her presence until she should herself inquire for him,as they could not tell how great might be the agitation it would causeher. And so he waited, day after day, hoping for the summons, butconstantly doomed to disappointment; for even after she had become strongenough to look about her, and ask questions, and to notice her friendswith a gentle smile, and a word of thanks to each, several days passedaway, and she had neither inquired for him nor even once so much asmentioned his name.
It seemed passing strange, and the thought that perhaps his cruelty hadso estranged her from him that she no longer cared for his presence orhis love, caused him many a bitter pang, and at times rendered him sodesperate that, but for the doctor's repeated warnings, he would haveended this torturing suspense by going to her, and begging to hear fromher own lips whether she had indeed ceased to love him.
Adelaide tried to comfort and encourage him to wait patiently, butshe, too, thought it very strange, and began to have vague fears thatsomething was wrong with her little niece.
She wondered that Dr. Barton treated the matter so lightly.
"But, then," thought she, "he has no idea how strongly the child wasattached to her father, and therefore her strange silence on the subjectdoes not strike him as it does us. I will ask if I may not venture tomention Horace to her."
But when she put the question, the doctor shook his head.
"No," he said; "better let her broach the subject herself; it will bemuch the safer plan."
Adelaide reluctantly acquiesced in his decision, for she was growingalmost as impatient as her brother. But fortunately she was not keptmuch longer in suspense.
The next day Elsie, who had been lying for some time wide awake, butwithout speaking, suddenly asked: "Aunt Adelaide, have you heard fromMiss Allison since she went away?"
"Yes, dear, a number of times," replied her aunt, much surprised at thequestion; "once since you were taken sick, and she was very sorry to hearof your illness."
"Dear Miss Rose, how I want to see her," murmured the little girlmusingly. "Aunt Adelaide," she asked quickly, "has there been any letterfrom papa since I have been sick?"
"Yes, dear," said Adelaide, beginning to tremble a little; "one, but itwas written before he heard of your illness."
"Did he say when he would sail for America, Aunt Adelaide?" she askedeagerly.
"No, dear," replied her aunt, becoming still more alarmed, for she fearedthe child was losing her reason.
"Oh, Aunt Adelaide, do you think he will _ever_ come home? Shall I eversee him? And do you think he will love me?" moaned the little girl.
"I am sure he _does_ love you, darling, for indeed he mentions you veryaffectionately in his letters," Adelaide said, bending down to kiss thelittle pale cheek. "Now go to sleep, dear child," she added, "I am afraidyou have been talking quite too much, for you are very weak yet."
Elsie was, in fact, quite exhausted, and closing her eyes, fell asleepdirectly.
Then resigning her place to Chloe, Adelaide stole softly from the room,and seeking her brother, repeated to him all that had just passed betweenElsie and herself. She simply told her story, keeping her doubts andfears confined to her own breast; but she watched him closely to seeif he shared them.
He listened at first eagerly; then sat with folded arms and head bentdown, so that she could not see his face; then rising up hastily, hepaced the floor to and fro with rapid strides, sighing heavily tohimself.
"Oh, Adelaide! Adelaide!" he exclaimed, suddenly pausing before her,"are _my_ sins thus to be visited on my innocent child? better death athousand times!" And sinking shuddering into a seat, he covered his facewith his hands, and groaned aloud.
"Don't be so distressed, dear brother, I am sure it cannot be so bad asyou think," whispered Adelaide, passing her arm around his neck andkissing him softly. "She looks bright enough, and seems to perfectlyunderstand all that is said to her."
"Dr. Barton!" announced Pompey, throwing open the door of the parlorwhere they were sitting.
Mr. Dinsmore rose hastily to greet him.
"What is the matter? is anything wrong with my patient?" he askedhurriedly, looking from one to the other, and noticing the signs ofunusual emotion in each face.
"Tell him, Adelaide," entreated her brother, turning away his head tohide his feelings.
Adelaide repeated her story, not without showing considerable emotion,though she did not mention the nature of their fears.
"Don't be alarmed," said the physician, cheerfully; "she is _not_ losingher mind, as I see you both fear; it is simply a failure of memory forthe time being; she has been fearfully ill, and the mind at presentpartakes of the weakness of the body, but I hope ere long to see themboth grow strong together.
"Let me see--Miss Allison left, when? a year ago last April, I think yousaid, Miss Adelaide, and this is October. Ah! well, the little girl hasonly lost about a year and a half from her life, and it is altogetherlikely she will recover it; but even supposing she does not, it is nogreat matter after all."
Mr. Dinsmore looked unspeakably relieved, and Adelaide hardly less so.
"And this gives you one advantage, Mr. Dinsmore," continued the doctor,looking smilingly at him; "you can now go to her as soon as Miss Adelaidehas cautiously broken to her the news of your arrival."
When Elsie waked, Adelaide cautiously communicated to her the tidingsthat her father had landed in America, in safety and health, and hoped tobe with them in a day or two.
A faint tinge of
color came to the little girl's cheek, her eyessparkled, and, clasping her little, thin hands together, she exclaimed,"Oh! can it really be true that I shall see my own dear father? and doyou think he will _love_ me, Aunt Adelaide?"
"Yes, indeed, darling; he _says_ he loves you dearly, and longs to haveyou in his arms."
Elsie's eyes filled with happy tears.
"Now you must try to be very calm, darling, and not let the good newshurt you," said her aunt kindly; "or I am afraid the doctor will sayyou are not well enough to see your papa when, he comes."
"I will try to be very quiet," replied the little girl; "but, oh! I_hope_ he will come soon, and that the doctor will let me see him."
"I shall read to you now, dear," remarked Adelaide, taking up Elsie'slittle Bible, which had been returned to her some days before; for shehad asked for it almost as soon as she was able to speak.
Adelaide opened to one of her favorite passages in Isaiah, and read in alow, quiet tone that soon soothed the little one to sleep.
"Has my papa come?" was her first question on awaking.
"Do you think you are strong enough to see him?" asked Adelaide, smiling.
"Oh, yes, Aunt Adelaide; is he here?" she inquired, beginning to tremblewith agitation.
"I am afraid you are not strong enough yet," said Adelaide doubtfully;"you are trembling very much."
"Dear Aunt Adelaide, I will try to be very calm; _do_ let me see him,"she urged beseechingly; "it won't hurt me half so much as to be keptwaiting."
"Yes, Adelaide, she is right. My precious, precious child! they shallkeep us apart no longer." And Elsie was gently raised in her father'sarms, and folded to his beating heart.
She looked up eagerly into his face.
It was full of the tenderest love and pity.
"Papa, papa, my _own_ papa," she murmured, dropping her head upon hisbreast.
He held her for some moments, caressing her silently; then laid hergently down upon her pillow, and sat by her side with one little handheld fast in his.
She raised her large, soft eyes, all dim with tears, to his face.
"Do you love me, my own papa?" she asked in a voice so low and weak hecould scarcely catch the words.
"Better than life," he said, his voice trembling with emotion; and heleaned over her, passing his hand caressingly over her face.
"Does my little daughter love me?" he asked.
"Oh, so very, _very_ much," she said, and closing her eyes wearily, shefell asleep again.
And now Mr. Dinsmore was constantly with his little girl. She couldscarcely bear to have him out of her sight, but clung to him with thefondest affection, which he fully returned; and he never willinglyleft her for an hour. She seemed to have entirely forgotten their firstmeeting, and everything which had occurred since, up to the beginning ofher illness, and always talked to her father as though they had but justbegun their acquaintance; and it was with feelings half pleasurable, halfpainful, that he listened to her.
It was certainly a relief to have her so unconscious of theirestrangement, and yet such an utter failure of memory distressed himwith fears of permanent and serious injury to her intellect; and thusit was, with mingled hope and dread, that he looked forward to thefulfilment of the doctor's prophecy that her memory would return.
She was growing stronger, so that she was able to be moved from her bedto a couch during the day; and when she was very weary of lying, herfather would take her in his arms and carry her back and forth, or,seating himself in a large rocking-chair, soothe her to sleep on hisbreast, holding her there for hours, never caring for the aching of hisarms, but really enjoying the consciousness that he was adding to hercomfort by suffering a little himself.
Mrs. Travilla had some time since found it absolutely necessary to giveher personal attention to her own household, and Adelaide, quite worn outwith nursing, needed rest; and so, with a little help from Chloe, Mr.Dinsmore took the whole care of his little girl, mixing and administeringher medicines with his own hand, giving her her food, soothing her in herhours of restlessness, reading, talking, singing to her--exerting all hispowers for her entertainment, and never weary of waiting upon her. Hewatched by her couch night and day; only now and then snatching a fewhours of sleep on a sofa in her room, while the faithful old nurse tookhis place by her side.
One day he had been reading to Elsie, while she lay on her sofa.Presently he closed the book, and looking at her, noticed that her eyeswere fixed upon his face with a troubled expression.
"What is it, dearest?" he asked.
"Papa," she said in a doubtful, hesitating way, "it seems as if I hadseen you before; have I, papa?"
"Why, surely, darling," he answered, trying to laugh, though he trembledinwardly, "I have been with you for nearly two weeks, and you have seenme every day."
"No, papa; but I mean before. Did I _dream_ that you gave me a doll once?Were you ever vexed with me? Oh, papa, help me to think," she said in atroubled, anxious tone, rubbing her hand across her forehead as shespoke.
"Don't try to think, darling," he replied cheerfully, as he raised her,shook up her pillows, and settled her more comfortably on them. "I am notin the least vexed with you; there is nothing wrong, and I love you very,_very_ dearly. So shut your eyes and try to go to sleep."
She looked only half satisfied, but closed her eyes as he bade her, andwas soon asleep. She seemed thoughtful and absent all the rest of theday, every now and then fixing the same troubled, questioning look onhim, and it was quite impossible to interest her in any subject for morethan a few moments at a time.
That night, for the first time, he went to his own room, leaving herentirely to Chloe's care. He had watched by her after she was put in bedfor the night, until she had fallen asleep; but he left her, feeling alittle anxious, for the same troubled look was on her face, as thougheven in sleep memory was reasserting her sway.
When he entered her room again in the morning, although it was stillearly, he found her already dressed for the day, in a pretty, loosewrapper, and laid upon the sofa.
"Good-morning, little daughter; you are quite an early bird to-day, for asick one," he said gayly.
But as he drew near, he was surprised and pained to see that she wastrembling very much, and that her eyes were red with weeping.
"What is it, dearest?" he asked, bending over her in tender solicitude;"what ails my little one?"
"Oh, papa," she said, bursting into tears, "I remember it all now. Areyou angry with me yet? and must I go away from you as soon as--"
But she was unable to finish her sentence.
He had knelt down by her side, and now raising her gently up, and layingher head against his breast, he kissed her tenderly, saying in a movedtone, in the beautiful words of Ruth, the Moabitess, "The Lord do so tome, and more also, if aught but death part me and thee." He paused amoment, as if unable to proceed; then, in tones tremulous with emotion,said: "Elsie, my dear, my _darling_ daughter, I have been a very cruelfather to you; I have most shamefully abused my authority; but neveragain will I require you to do anything contrary to the teachings ofGod's word. Will you forgive your father, dearest, for all he has madeyou suffer?"
"Dear papa, don't! oh, _please_ don't say such words to me!" she said;"I cannot bear to hear them. You had a right to do whatever you pleasedwith your own child."
"No, daughter; not to force you to disobey God," he answered with deepsolemnity. "I have learned to look upon you now, not as absolutely myown, but as belonging first to him, and only lent to me for a time; andI know that I will have to give an account of my stewardship."
He paused a moment, then went on: "Elsie, darling, your prayers for mehave been answered; your father has learned to know and love Jesus, andhas consecrated to his service the remainder of his days. And now, dearone, we are travelling the same road at last."
Her happiness was too deep for words--for anything but tears; and puttingher little arms around his neck, she sobbed out her joy and gratitudeupon his breast.
/> Aunt Chloe had gone down to the kitchen, immediately upon Mr. Dinsmore'sentrance, to prepare Elsie's breakfast, and so they were quite alone. Heheld her to his heart for a moment; then kissing away her tears, laid hergently back upon her pillow again, and took up the Bible, which laybeside her.
"I have learned to love it almost as well as you do, dearest," he said."Shall we read together, as you and Miss Rose used to do long ago?"
Her glad look was answer enough; and opening to one of her favoritepassages, he read it in his deep, rich voice, while she lay listening,with a full heart, to the dearly loved words, which sounded sweeterthan ever before.
He closed the book. He had taken one of her little hands in his ere hebegan to read, and still holding it fast in a close, loving grasp, heknelt down and prayed.
He thanked God for their spared lives, and especially for the recovery ofhis dear little one, who had so lately been tottering upon the very vergeof the grave--and his voice trembled with emotion as he alluded to thattime of trial--and confessed that it was undeserved mercy to him, for hehad been most unfaithful to his trust. And then he asked for grace andwisdom to guide and guard her, and train her up aright, both by preceptand example. He confessed that he had been all his days a wanderer fromthe right path, and that if left to himself he never would have soughtit; but thanked God that he had been led by the gracious influences ofthe Holy Spirit to turn his feet into that straight and narrow way; andhe prayed that he might be kept from ever turning aside again into thebroad road, and that he and his little girl might now walk hand in handtogether on their journey to the celestial city.
Elsie's heart swelled with emotion, and glad tears rained down hercheeks, as thus, for the first time, she heard her father's voice inprayer. It was the happiest hour she had ever known.
"Take me, papa, please," she begged, holding out her hands to him, as herose from his knees, and drawing his chair close to her couch sat down byher side.
He took her in his arms, and she laid her head on his breast again,saying, "I am _so_ happy, so _very_ happy! Dear papa, it is worth allthe sickness and everything else that I have suffered."
He only answered with a kiss.
"Will you read and pray with me every morning, papa?" she asked,
"Yes, darling," he said, "and when we get into our own home we will callin the servants morning and evening, and have family worship. Shall youlike that?"
"_Very_ much, papa! Oh, how nice it will be! and will we go _soon_ to ourown home, papa?" she asked eagerly.
"Just as soon as you are well enough to be moved, dearest. But here isAunt Chloe with your breakfast, so now we must stop talking, and let youeat."
"May I talk a little more now, papa?" she asked, when she had doneeating.
"Yes, a little, if it is anything of importance," he answered smilingly.
"I wanted to say that I think our new home is very, very lovely, and thatI think we shall be _so_ happy there. Dear papa, you were so very kind tofurnish those pretty rooms for me! thank you _very_ much," she said,pressing his hand to her lips. "I will try to be so good and obedientthat you will never regret having spent so much money, and taken so muchtrouble for me."
"I know you will, daughter; you have always been a dutiful child," hesaid tenderly, "and I shall never regret anything that adds to yourhappiness."
"And will you do all that you said in that letter, papa? will you teachme yourself?" she asked eagerly.
"If you wish it, my pet; but if you prefer a governess, I will try toget one who will be more kind and patient than Miss Day. One thing iscertain, _she_ shall never teach you again."
"Oh, no, papa, please teach me yourself. I will try to be very good, andnot give you much trouble," she said coaxingly.
"I will," he said with a smile. "The doctor thinks that in a day or twoyou may be able to take a short ride, and I hope it will not be verylong before we will be in our own home. Now I am going to wrap you up,and carry you to my dressing-room to spend the day; for I know you aretired of this room."
"How pleasant!" she exclaimed; "how kind you are to think of it, papa! Ifeel as glad as I used to when I was going to take a long ride on mypony."
He smiled on her a pleased, affectionate smile, and bade Chloe go and seeif the room was in order for them.
Chloe returned almost immediately to say that all was in readiness; andElsie was then raised in her father's strong arms, and borne quicklythrough the hall and into the dressing-room, where she was laid upon asofa, and propped up with pillows. She looked very comfortable; and veryglad she was to have a little change of scene, after her long confinementto one room.
Just as she was fairly settled in her new quarters, the breakfast-bellrang, and her father left her in Chloe's care for a few moments, while hewent down to take his meal.
"I have brought you a visitor, Elsie," he said when he returned.
She looked up, and, to her surprise, saw her grandfather standing nearthe door.
He came forward then, and taking the little, thin hand she held out tohim, he stooped and kissed her cheek.
"I am sorry to see you looking so ill, my dear," he said, not without atouch of feeling in his tone--"but I hope you will get well very fastnow."
"Yes, grandpa, thank you; I am a great deal better than I was," sheanswered, with a tear in her eye; for it was the first caress she everremembered having received from him, and she felt quite touched.
"Have the others come, grandpa?" she asked.
"Yes, my dear, they are all at home now, and I think Lora will be comingto speak to you presently, she has been quite anxious to see you."
"Don't let her come until afternoon, father? if you please," said hisson, looking anxiously at his little girl. "Elsie cannot bear much yet,and I see she is beginning to look exhausted already." And he laid hisfinger on her pulse.
"I shall caution her on the subject," replied his father, turning toleave the room. Then to Elsie, "You had better go to sleep now, child!sleep and eat all you can, and get strong fast."
"Yes, sir," she said faintly, closing her eyes with a weary look.
Her father placed her more comfortably on the pillows, smoothed thecover, closed the blinds to shut out the sunlight, and sat down towatch her while she slept.
It was a long, deep sleep, for she was quite worn out by the excitementof the morning; the dinner-hour had passed, and still she slumbered on,and he began to grow uneasy. He was leaning over her, with his finger onher slender wrist, watching her breathing and counting her pulse, whenshe opened her eyes, and looking up lovingly into his face, said "Dearpapa, I feel so much better."
"I am very glad, daughter," he replied; "you have had a long sleep; andnow I will take you on my knee, and Aunt Chloe will bring up yourdinner."
Elsie's appetite was poor, and her father spared neither trouble norexpense in procuring her every dainty that could be thought of which wasat all suited to her state of health, and he was delighted when he couldtempt her to eat with tolerable heartiness. She seemed to enjoy herdinner, and he watched her with intense pleasure.
"Can I see Lora now, papa?" she asked, when Chloe had removed the dishes.
"Yes," he said. "Aunt Chloe, you may tell Miss Lora that we are ready toreceive her now."
Lora came in quite gay and full of spirits; but when she caught sight ofElsie, lying so pale and languid in her father's arms, she had hard workto keep from bursting into tears, and could scarcely command her voice tospeak.
"Dear Lora, I am so glad to see you," said the little girl, holding outher small, thin hand.
Lora took it and kissed it, saying, in a tremulous tone, "How ill youlook!"
Elsie held up her face, and Lora stooped and kissed her lips; thenbursting into tears and sobs, she ran out of the room.
"Oh, Adelaide!" she cried, rushing into her sister's room, "how she ischanged! I should never have known her! Oh! do you think she can everget well?"
"If you had seen her two or three weeks ago, you would be quiteencouraged
by her appearance now," replied her sister. "The doctorconsiders her out of danger now, though he says she must have carefulnursing; and that I assure you she gets from her father. He seems tofeel that he can never do enough for her, and won't let me share thelabor at all, although I would often be very glad to do it."
"He _ought_ to do all he can for her! he would be a _brute_ if hedidn't, for it was all his doing, her being so ill!" exclaimed Loraindignantly. "No, no; I ought not to say that," she added, correctingherself immediately, "for we were _all_ unkind to her; I as well as therest. Oh, Adelaide! what a bitter thought that was to me when I heard shewas dying! I never realized before how lovely, and how very differentfrom all the rest of us she was."
"Yes, poor darling! she has had a hard life amongst us," repliedAdelaide, sighing, while the tears rose to her eyes. "You can never know,Lora, what an agonizing thought it was at the moment when I believed thatshe had left us forever. I would have given worlds to have been able tolive the last six years over again. But Horace--oh, Lora! I don't believethere was a more wretched being on the face of the earth than he! I wasvery angry with him at first, but when I saw how utterly crushed andheartbroken he was, I couldn't say one word."
Adelaide was crying now in good earnest, as well as Lora.
Presently Lora asked for a full account of Elsie's illness, whichAdelaide was beginning to give, when a servant came to say that Elsiewanted to see her; so, with a promise to Lora to finish her story anothertime, she hastened to obey the summons.
She found the little girl still lying languidly in her father's arms.
"Dear Aunt Adelaide," she said, "I wanted to see you; you haven't been into-day to look at your little patient."
Adelaide smiled, and patted her cheek.
"Yes, my dear," she said, "I have been in twice, but found you sleepingboth times, and your father keeping guard over you, like a tiger watchinghis cub."
"No, no, Aunt Adelaide; papa isn't a bit like a tiger," said Elsie,passing her small, white hand caressingly over his face. "You mustn'tsay that."
"I don't know," replied Adelaide, laughing and shaking her head; "I thinkanybody who should be daring enough to disturb your slumbers would findthere was considerable of the tiger in him."
Elsie looked up into her father's face as if expecting him to deny thecharge.
"Never mind," said he, smiling; "Aunt Adelaide is only trying to tease usa little."
A servant came in and whispered something to Adelaide.
"Mr. and Mrs. Travilla," she said, turning to her brother; "is Elsie ableto see them?"
"Oh, yes, papa, please," begged the little girl in a coaxing tone.
"Well, then, for a few moments, I suppose," he answered ratherdoubtfully; and Adelaide went down and brought them up.
Elsie was very glad to see them; but seeing that she looked weak andweary they did not stay long, but soon took an affectionate leave of her,expressing the hope that it would not be many weeks before she would beable to pay a visit to Ion.
Her father promised to take her to spend a day there as soon as she waswell enough, and then they went away.
Elsie's strength returned very slowly, and she had many trying hours ofweakness and nervous prostration to endure. She was almost always verypatient, but on a few rare occasions, when suffering more than usual,there was a slight peevishness in her tone. Once it was to her father shewas speaking, and the instant she had done so, she looked up at him witheyes brimful of tears, expecting a stern rebuke, or, at the very least, alook of great displeasure.
But he did not seem to have heard her, and only busied himself in tryingto make her more comfortable; and when she seemed to feel easier again,he kissed her tenderly, saying softly: "My poor little one! papa knowsshe suffers a great deal, and feels very sorry for her. Are you betternow, dearest?"
"Yes, papa, thank you," she answered, the tears coming into her eyesagain. "I don't know what makes me so cross; you are very good not toscold me."
"I think my little girl is very patient," he said, caressing her again;"and if she were not, I couldn't have the heart to _scold_ her after allshe has suffered. Shall I sing to you now?"
"Yes, papa; please sing 'I want to be like Jesus.' Oh, I _do_ want to belike him! and then I should never even _feel_ impatient."
He did as she requested, singing in a low, soothing tone that soon lulledher to sleep. He was an indefatigable nurse, never weary, never in theleast impatient, and nothing that skill and kindness could do for thecomfort and recovery of his little daughter was left undone. He carriedher in his arms from room to room; and then, as she grew stronger, downinto the garden. Then he sent for a garden chair, in which he drew herabout the gardens with his own hands; or if he called a servant to do it,he walked by her side, doing all he could to amuse her, and when she wasready to be carried indoors again, no one was allowed to touch her buthimself. At last she was able to take short and easy rides in thecarriage--not more than a quarter of a mile at first, for he was verymuch afraid of trying her strength too far--but gradually they werelengthened, as she seemed able to bear it.
One day he was unusually eager to get her into the carriage, and afterthey had started, instead of calling her attention to the scenery, as heoften did, he began relating a story which interested her so much thatshe did not notice in what direction they were travelling until thecarriage stopped, the foot-man threw open the door, and her father,breaking off in the middle of a sentence, sprang out hastily, lifted herin his arms, and carried her into the house.
She did not know where she was until he had laid her on a sofa, and,giving her a rapturous kiss, exclaimed--
"Welcome home, my darling! welcome to your father's house."
Then she looked up and saw that she was indeed in the dear home he hadprepared for her months before.
She was too glad to speak a word, or do anything but gaze about herwith eyes brimming over with delight; while her father took off herbonnet and shawl, and setting her on her feet, led her across the room toan easy-chair, where he seated her in state.
He then threw open a door, and there was another pleasant surprise; forwho but her old friend, Mrs. Murray, should rush in and take her in herarms, kissing her and crying over her.
"Dear, _dear_ bairn," she exclaimed, "you are looking pale and ill, butit does my auld heart gude to see your winsome wee face once more. I hopeit will soon grow as round and rosy as ever, now that you've won to yourain home at last. But where, darling, are all your bonny curls?" sheasked suddenly.
"In the drawer, in my room at grandpa's," replied the little girl with afaint smile. "They had to be cut off when I was so sick. You were notvexed, papa?" she asked, raising her eyes timidly to his face.
"No, darling, not _vexed_ certainly, though very sorry indeed that it wasnecessary," he said in a kind, gentle tone, passing his hand caressinglyover her head.
"Ah, well," remarked Mrs. Murray cheerfully, "we winna fret about it;it will soon grow again, and these little, soft rings of hair are verypretty, too."
"I thought you were in Scotland, Mrs. Murray; when did you come back?"asked the little girl.
"I came to this place only yesterday, darling; but it is about a weeksince I landed in America."
"I am so glad to see you, dear Mrs. Murray," Elsie said, holding fast toher hand, and looking lovingly into her face. "I haven't forgotten anyof the good things you taught me." Then turning to her father, she said,very earnestly, "Papa, you won't need now to have me grow up for a longwhile, because Mrs. Murray is such an excellent housekeeper."
He smiled and patted her cheek, saying pleasantly, "No, dear, I shallkeep you a little girl as long as ever I can; and give Mrs. Murray plentyof time to make a good housekeeper of you."
"At what hour will you have dinner, sir?" asked the old lady, turning toleave the room.
"At one, if you please," he said, looking at his watch. "I want Elsie toeat with me, and it must be early, on her account."
Elsie's little face was quite bright
with pleasure. "I am so glad, papa,"she said, "it will be very delightful to dine together in our own house.May I always dine with you?"
"I hope so," he said, smiling. "I am not fond of eating alone."
They were in Mr. Dinsmore's study, into which Elsie's own littlesitting-room opened.
"Do you feel equal to a walk through your rooms, daughter, or shall Icarry you?" he asked, bending over her.
"I think I will try to walk, papa, if you please," she said, putting herhand in his.
He led her slowly forward, but her step seemed tottering, and he passedhis arm around her waist, and supported her to the sofa in her own prettylittle boudoir.
Although it was now quite late in the fall, the weather was stillwarm and pleasant in that southern clime--flowers were blooming inthe gardens, and doors and windows stood wide open.
Elsie glanced out of the window, and then around the room.
"What a lovely place it is, papa!" she said; "and everything in this dearlittle room is so complete, so very pretty. Dear papa, you are very,_very_ kind to me! I will have to be a very good girl to deserve it all."
"Does it please you, darling? I am very glad," he said, drawing hercloser to him. "I have tried to think of everything that would be usefulto you, or give you pleasure; but if there is anything else you want,just tell me what it is, and you shall have it."
"Indeed, papa," she said, smiling up at him, "I could never have thoughtof half the pretty things that are here already; and I don't believethere is anything else I could possibly want. Ah! papa, how happy I amto-day; so very much happier than when I was here before. Then I thoughtI should never be happy again in this world. There is your picture. Icried very much when I looked at it that day, but it does not make mefeel like crying now, and I am so _glad_ to have it. Thank you a thousandtimes for giving it to me."
"You are very welcome, darling; you deserve it all, and more than all,"replied her father tenderly. "And now," he asked, "will you look at theother rooms, or are you too tired?"
"I want to try the piano first, if you please, papa," she said; "it is solong since I touched one."
He opened the instrument, and then picked her up and seated her on thestool, saying, "I am afraid you will find yourself hardly equal to theexertion; but you may try."
She began a little piece which had always been a favorite of his--hestanding beside her, and supporting her with his arm--but it seemed hardwork; the tiny hands trembled so with weakness and he would not let herfinish.
"You must wait until another day, dearest," he said, taking her in hisarms; "you are not strong enough yet, and I think I will have to _carry_you through the other rooms, if you are to see them at all. Shall I?"
She assented, laying her head down languidly on his shoulder, and hadvery little to say, as he bore her along through the dressing-room, andinto the bed-room beyond.
The bed looked very inviting with its snowy drapery, and he laid hergently down upon it, saying, "You are too much fatigued to attemptanything more, and must take a nap now, my pet, to recruit yourselfa little before dinner."
"Don't leave me, papa! _please_ don't!" she exclaimed, half starting upas he turned toward the door.
"No, dearest," he said, "I am only going to get your shawl to lay overyou, and will be back again in a moment."
He returned almost immediately, but found her already fast asleep.
"Poor darling! she is quite worn out," he murmured, as he spread theshawl carefully over her. Then taking a book from his pocket, he sat downby her side, and read until she awoke.
It was the sound of the dinner-bell which had roused her, and as she satup looking quite bright and cheerful again, he asked if she thought shecould eat some dinner, and would like to be taken to the dining-room.She assented, and he carried her there, seated her in an easy-chair,wheeled it up to the table, and then sat down opposite to her, lookingsupremely happy.
The servants were about to uncover the dishes, but motioning them towait a moment, Mr. Dinsmore bowed his head over his plate, and asked ablessing on their food. It sent a glow of happiness to Elsie's little,pale face, and she loved and respected her father more than ever. Sheseemed to enjoy her dinner, and he watched her with a pleased look.
"The change of air has done you good already, I think," he remarked; "youseem to have a better appetite than you have had since your sickness."
"Yes, papa, I believe everything tastes good because it is home," sheanswered, smiling lovingly up at him.
After dinner he held her on his knee a while, chatting pleasantly withher about their plans for the future; and then, laying her on the sofain her pretty boudoir, he brought a book from his library, and readto her.
It was a very interesting story he had chosen; and he had been readingfor more than an hour, when, happening to look at her he noticed that hereyes were very bright, and her cheeks flushed, as if with fever. Hesuddenly closed the book, and laid his finger on her pulse.
"Oh! papa, please go on," she begged; "I am so much interested."
"No, daughter, your pulse is very quick, and I fear this book is entirelytoo exciting for you at present--so I shall not read you any more of itto-day," he said, laying it aside.
"Oh! papa, I want to hear it so much; do please read a _little_ more, orelse let me have the book myself," she pleaded in a coaxing tone.
"My little daughter must not forget old lessons," he replied verygravely.
She turned away her head with almost a pout on her lip, and her eyes fullof tears.
He did not reprove her, though, as he once would have done; but seemingnot to notice her ill-humor, exerted himself to soothe and amuse her, bytalking in a cheerful strain of other matters; and in a very few momentsall traces of it had disappeared, and she was answering him in her usualpleasant tone.
They had both been silent for several minutes, when she said, "Please,papa, put your head close down to me, I want to say something to you."
He complied, and putting her little arm around his neck, she said, in avery humble tone, "Dear papa, I was very naughty and cross just now; andI think I have been cross several times lately; and you have been so goodand kind not to reprove or punish me, as I deserved. Please, papa,forgive me; I am very sorry, and I will try to be a better girl."
He kissed her very tenderly.
"I do forgive you freely, my little one," he said, "I know it seemed hardto give up the story just there, but it was for your good, and you musttry always to believe that papa knows best. You are very precious to yourfather's heart, Elsie, but I am not going to _spoil_ my little girlbecause I love her so dearly; nor because I have been so near losingher."
His voice trembled as he pronounced the last words, and for a momentemotion kept him silent. Then he went on again.
"I shall never again bid you do violence to your conscience, my daughter,but to all the commands which I _do_ lay upon you I shall still expectand require the same ready and cheerful obedience that I have heretofore.It is my duty to require, and yours to yield it."
"Yes, papa, I know it is," she said with a little sigh, "but, it is verydifficult sometimes to keep from wanting to have my own way."
"Yes, darling, I know it, for I find it so with myself," replied herfather gently; "but we must, ask God to help us to give up our own wills,and be satisfied to do and have what we _ought_, rather than what wewould _like_."
"I will, papa," she whispered, hugging him tighter and tighter. "I am soglad you teach me that."
They were quite quiet again for a little while. She was running herfingers through his hair.
"Oh, papa!" she exclaimed, "I see two or three white hairs! I am sosorry! I don't want you to get old. What made these come so soon, papa?"
He did not reply immediately, but, taking her in his arms, held her closeto his heart. It was beating very fast.
Suddenly she seemed to comprehend.
"Was it because you were afraid I was going to die, papa?" she asked.
"Yes, dearest, and because I ha
d reason, to think that my own cruelty hadkilled you."
The words were almost inaudible, but she heard them.
"Dear _dear_ papa, how I love you!" she said, putting her arms around hisneck again; "and I am so glad, for your sake, that I did not die."
He pressed her closer and closer, caressing her silently with a heart toofull for words.
They sat thus for some time, but were at length interrupted by theentrance of Chloe, who had been left behind at Roselands to attend to thepacking and removal of Elsie's clothes, and all her little possessions.She had finished her work, and her entrance was immediately followed bythat of the men-servants bearing several large trunks and boxes, thecontents of which she proceeded at once to unpack and rearrange in thenew apartments.
Elsie watched this operation with a good deal of interest, occasionallydirecting where this or that article should be put; but in the midst ofit all was carried off by her father to the tea-table.
Soon after tea the servants were all called together, and Mr. Dinsmore,after addressing a few words to them on the importance of calling uponGod--the blessings promised to those who did, and the curses pronouncedupon those individuals and families who did not--read a chapter from theBible and offered up a prayer.
All were solemn and attentive, and all seemed pleased with thearrangement--for Mr. Dinsmore had told them it was to be the regularcustom of the house, morning and evening--but Elsie, Mrs. Murray, andChloe fairly wept for joy and thankfulness.
Elsie begged for another chapter and prayer in the privacy of her ownrooms, and then Chloe undressed her, and her father carried her to herbed and placed her in it with a loving good-night kiss. And thus endedthe first happy day in her own dear home.