CHAPTER XXI.
"Woes cluster; rare are solitary woes:They love a train, they tread each other's heel."
YOUNG.
For a number of weeks events moved on their even course at Viamede; theywere all well and happy, though Lulu's continued obstinacy caused most ofthem more or less mental disquietude.
She still remained at Oakdale, making no complaint to any one but Evelynof her fare or accommodations, and was studious and well-behaved in everyrespect, except that she steadily refused to have anything whatever to dowith Signor Foresti.
She had attended church regularly with the family, had seen them alloccasionally on weekdays, but had not been once permitted to visitViamede, Magnolia Hall, or the parsonage.
If either she or Mr. Dinsmore regretted having begun the struggle whichnow appeared so interminable, no one else was aware of the fact.
Grace had kept up her habit of driving over to Oakdale every morning andafternoon, and the pleasure of seeing her so often had helped Lulugreatly in the endurance of her exile, as had also her daily intercoursewith Max, Evelyn, and Rosie.
But one morning in March they came without Grace, and all looking graveand troubled.
"Where's Gracie? Why didn't she come?" asked Lulu, with a vague feelingof uneasiness.
"She's sick," Max answered, trying to swallow a lump in his throat, andkeep the tears from coming into his eyes; "and so is the baby, and thedoctor--Cousin Dick Percival--says they both have the scarlet-fever inalmost its worst form."
Lulu, who knew something of the deadly nature of the disease, stoodspeechless with surprise and dismay; the other two girls were crying now.
Presently Lulu burst out vehemently, "I must go home! I _will_ go! It'sthe cruelest thing in the world to keep me away from my darling Graciewhen she's so sick and may be going to--oh, I can't say it! I can't bearto think it!" and she began sobbing as if her heart would break.
Evelyn put an arm about her.
"Lu, dear Lu, don't be so distressed. The doctor has not said that eithercase is hopeless; and they may both get well."
"The dear baby, too!" sobbed Lulu; "oh I do love her, she is such adarling!"
"Indeed she is," said Max, vainly trying to steady his tones; "and it'shard to see her suffer. Gracie, too--she's so sweet and patient, and sogood. I heard some of the old servants talking together this morningabout her, saying she was just like a little angel, and too good to live;and--and I'm afraid she is."
He quite broke down with the last word.
"No, she ain't," cried Rosie; "she's just as good as they think her, butgood children are not any more likely to die than bad ones. Everybodythat knew mamma when she was a child says she was as good as she couldbe, and see how long she has lived."
"That's true, and I'm obliged to you for reminding me of it, Rosie," saidMax, looking slightly relieved.
"But I must go home," repeated Lulu; "Gracie is sure to be wanting me,and I can't stay away from her."
"No," the others said; "none of us are allowed to go into the room forfear of the contagion. Indeed, we're not to go back to Viamede, but tostay at either Magnolia Hall or the parsonage till the danger is over."
"Mamma and Violet are nursing the sick ones, with the help of old AuntPhillis," said Rosie. "Sister Elsie has gone to the parsonage with littleNed, and she and Isa will have to keep away from Viamede on account oftheir babies; so will Cousin Molly.
"Grandpa telegraphed for Cousin Arthur this morning, because we know heis a skilful physician, and Gracie is begging for her own doctor."
"I'm glad: I hope he'll come quickly," said Lulu. "And oh, how I wishpapa was here!"
"Yes; we always want papa when we're in trouble," said Max; "we can'thelp feeling as if he could help us somehow. But perhaps it's a very goodthing that he's not here just now to see the children suffer."
"Oh, are they suffering very much?" Lulu asked tearfully.
"Yes," answered Rosie; "mamma told me they were both very ill: Gracieespecially--her head aching badly, her throat distressingly sore, and herfever very high; but that she was sweetly patient under it all."
"I'm not surprised to hear that," sobbed Lulu; "for she always waspatient and good; never a bit like me. Oh, it is so hard that I can't bewith her."
They were standing together in a little group on the veranda while theytalked, and the agitation in their faces and voices had attractedattention from scholars and teachers who happened to be within sight andhearing.
Miss Emily now drew near, and asked in a kindly, sympathetic tone whatwas the matter.
Rosie answered, telling briefly of the serious illness of the two littlesisters of Max and Lulu.
"Ah! I am extremely sorry," Miss Emily said. "You will find it difficultto give your minds to your lessons under such trying circumstances; but Iwill go to my father and the others, and ask that you may be excused ifyour recitations should be imperfect to-day,"
"That was a kind thought," said Max, as she went into the house. "She'smuch the best and kindest of the family."
The ensuing week was one of great sorrow and anxiety to Violet, scarcelyless so to her mother; for the children were so dangerously ill that itwas greatly feared both would succumb to the power of the disease.
It was a time of sore trial, but it brought out in strong relief thebeauty and nobility of character in both Violet and her mother. Theyproved themselves the most devoted of nurses, patient, cheerful, hopeful,never giving way to despondency, or wearying in efforts to relieve thelittle sufferers or wile them into forgetfulness of their pain.
Till the crisis was past they watched over them day and night, aided byDrs. Conly and Percival.
Arthur had obeyed the summons with all possible dispatch, approved ofwhat Dick was doing, and joined him in the care of the little patients.One or the other was always close at hand.
"This is a sad, anxious time for you, my dear Vi," Elsie said one eveningas they sat together in the sick-room--Violet with her almost dying babeon her lap, while Grace lay on the bed in an equally critical condition;"but you are bearing up bravely."
"Dear mamma, you help me very much in so doing," Violet said, low andtremulously; "so do Arthur and Dick. But best of all, 'underneath are theeverlasting arms.' O mamma, it seems as if my heart must break if eitherof the children is taken, and I may be called to part with both--andtheir father, my dear, dear husband, so far away."
She paused, overcome by her emotions.
"'God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble,'" hermother whispered, with a tenderly sympathetic look. "'He will never leavenor forsake you, dear child.'"
"No, mamma; my heart is constantly saying to Him,
'I have called thee Abba, Father!I have stayed my heart on thee;Storms may howl and clouds may gather--All must work for good to me.'"
"Yes, dear child," Elsie said with emotion, "'we know that all thingswork together for good to them that love God.'"
"And my baby is so young, Gracie such a dear little Christian child,that, if I must give them up, I shall know that they are safe--
'Safe in the arms of Jesus,Safe on His gentle breast.'"
Grace, whom they had deemed quite unconscious, opened her eyes and fixedthem on Violet's face with a look of ardent affection.
"Yes, mamma," she said feebly, "I'm not afraid to die; because I knowthat Jesus loves me. My head aches; I'd like to lay it down on Hisbreast. And--He'll comfort you and papa, and--the rest."
Violet could not speak for weeping, but Elsie bent over the child, andtenderly smoothing her pillow, said, "Yes, darling, He will; and whetherwe live or die, we are all His, and we know that He will do what is bestfor each one of us."
Grace dropped asleep again almost immediately, and Elsie resumed her seatby her daughter's side.
"Oh," murmured Violet, "dearly as I love Gracie, I should far rather seeher go than Lulu, because I am sure she is ready for the change; and Iknow their father would feel so too. Mamma, how long it is since I haveheard from
him! I begin to feel very anxious. Ah, what comfort andsupport his presence would be to me now!"
"Yes, dearest; but console yourself with the thought of how much anxietyand distress he is spared by his ignorance of the critical condition ofthese little ones. We may be able in a few days to write that they arebetter--out of danger, with careful nursing, so that the news of theirconvalescence will reach him at the same time with that of their severeillness."
"Yes, mamma, there is comfort in that," Violet said, smiling through hertears.
On going down to breakfast the next morning Elsie found her father seatedat the table, with the morning paper before him. He glanced up at her asshe came in, and something in his expression of countenance set her heartto throbbing wildly.
"Oh, papa, what is wrong?" she asked. "My boys? have you?--is there badnews of them?" and she dropped into a chair, trembling in every limb.
"No, no, daughter," he hastened to say. "I think they are all right; hereare letters from all three," pointing to a pile on the table before him.
She drew a long breath of relief; then with another glance at his face,"But what is wrong? certainly something is distressing you greatly. Andmamma is shedding tears," as she saw Rose furtively lift her handkerchiefto her eyes.
"Yes," he sighed, "something is wrong; and not to keep you insuspense--it is a report that Captain Raymond is lost. It is now someweeks since his vessel should have been heard from, and it is greatlyfeared that she has gone down with all on board."
"Vi! oh, my poor Vi!" gasped Elsie; "her heart will be overwhelmed: wemust keep it from her as long as we can; at least till the children arebetter."
"Certainly," Mr. Dinsmore said, "my dear child," going to Elsie andtaking her hand in his in tender, fatherly fashion. "Remember it is onlya report,--or rather a conjecture,--which may be without any foundationin fact. The captain may be alive and well at this moment."
A slight sound caused them all--Mr. and Mrs. Dinsmore and Elsie--to looktoward the door opening into the hall.
Max stood there with a face from which every vestige of color had fled,his features quivering with emotion.
"What--what is it about, papa?" he asked hoarsely. "Oh, Grandpa Dinsmore,Grandma Elsie, don't hide it from me! I must know!"
"Max, my boy, how came you here?" Mr. Dinsmore asked in a kindly pityingtone, going to the lad and making him sit down, while he took a glass ofwater from the table and held it to his lips.
Max put it aside. "My father?--what about my father?"
His tone was full of agonized inquiry, and Mr. Dinsmore saw the questionwas not to be evaded.
"My poor fellow," he said, "I am truly sorry you should be distressed byhearing what is as yet only a rumor: fears are reported that yourfather's vessel is lost; but nothing is known certainly yet, and we musthope for the best."
For a moment the boy seemed utterly stunned; then, "I don't believe it! I_won't_ believe it!" he exclaimed. "We can't do without him; and Godwouldn't take him from us. Would He, Grandma Elsie?" and his eyes soughthers with a look of anguished entreaty that she knew not how towithstand.
"My dear Max, I trust we shall have better news to-morrow," she saidtenderly; "but whatever comes, we know that all things work together forgood to them that love God. He is our kind, Heavenly Father, who loves uswith far more than an earthly parent's love, and will let no real evilbefall any of His children."
"Yes, and--oh, I'm sure it couldn't be good for Lulu and me to be withoutour father to help us to grow up right."
No one present thought it necessary to combat that idea, or show that itmight be a mistaken one, since it seemed to afford some comfort to theboy.
"We will hope for the best, Max; so do not let possibilities distressyou," Mr. Dinsmore said kindly. "Come to the table now, and take somebreakfast with us."
"Thank you, sir; but I couldn't eat," returned Max brokenly. "GrandmaElsie, how are Gracie and baby?"
"I'm afraid no better, Max," she said in faltering tones; "the crisis ofthe disease has not yet come; but in regard to them also we must try tohope for the best. Indeed, whatever the result, we shall know it is forthe best," she added with tears in her soft, sweet eyes, "because 'Hedoeth all things well.'"
It was Saturday, and there was no school; but Max had promised Lulu thathe would go over to Oakdale after breakfast and carry her the news inregard to the sick children.
She was extremely anxious and distressed about them, and as soon as atliberty to follow her inclination, hastened to a part of the groundsoverlooking the road by which he must come.
She had not been there long when she saw him approaching, walking slowly,dejectedly along, with his eyes on the ground.
"Oh, they are no better," she said to herself; "for if they were better,Max wouldn't hang his head like that."
She stood still, watching him with a sinking heart as he came in at thegate and drew near her, still with his eyes cast down. And now sheperceived that his countenance was pale and distressed.
"O Max," she cried, "are they worse?--dying? Oh, don't say they are!"
"No; they are no better: perhaps they may be to-morrow; but--"
He stopped, his eyes full of tears as he lifted them for a moment to herface, his features working with emotion.
"Max, Max, what is it?" she asked, clutching at his arm. "Oh, what is thematter? You must tell me."
"My father--our father--" He covered his face with his hands and sobbedaloud.
"O Max, what about papa?" she cried wildly. "Oh, don't say anything hashappened to him! I couldn't bear it!--oh I couldn't!--but I must know. OMaxie, tell me what it is?"
She had put her arms round his neck and laid her cheek to his. Hereturned the embrace, hugging her tightly to his breast.
"It mayn't be true, Lu," he said brokenly; "but oh, I'm afraid it is:they say it's feared his ship has gone down with all on board."
"Gone down?" she repeated in a dazed tone, as if unable to believe in thepossibility of so terrible a disaster. "Gone down?"
"Yes, in the sea--the dreadful sea! O Lu, shall we ever see our fatheragain in this world?"
"Do you mean that papa is drowned? Oh, I can't, I _won't_ have it so!He'll come back again, Max--he surely will! I couldn't live without him,and neither could you, or Gracie; but oh maybe she will die too! And I'mafraid it's because I'm so bad; God is taking away everybody I love,because I don't deserve to have them. I've been disobeying my father bynot doing as Grandpa Dinsmore bade me; and now maybe I haven't any fatherto obey! Oh, Max, Max, what shall I do? everybody's being taken away!"
"I'm left, Lu," he said, brushing away a tear; "I'm left to you, andyou're left to me; and we don't know certainly yet, that anybody isreally taken from us, or going to be."
"Oh," she cried lifting her head, which had dropped upon his shoulder ashe held her closely clasped in his arms, "I'll stop being so bad; I'll begood and do as Grandpa Dinsmore has ordered me, and maybe God willforgive me and spare papa and Gracie and the baby. Do you think he will,Max?"
"Perhaps; you remember how ill papa was when you were obstinate anddisobedient to him once before, and you gave up and did as he bade you,and we all prayed for papa and he got well?"
"Yes, oh yes, I'll do it now, this minute; I can't go to Viamede to tellGrandpa Dinsmore, but I'll write a little note, Max, and you can carry itto him."
"I have a note-book in my pocket, pencil too," he said, pulling them outin haste to get the thing done, lest her mood should change. "I'll tearout a leaf and you can write on that. Grandpa Dinsmore won't mind whatkind of paper it is so the words are there."
He led the way to a rustic seat, tore out the leaf, spread it on thecover of the book and handed that and the pencil to her.
"I needn't say much--need I, Max?" she asked, looking at him throughtear-dimmed eyes.
"No; just the few words you would say if he were here beside you."
"I can't write nicely, my hand trembles so, and I can hardly see," shesobbed, taking out her handkerchief and
wiping away the fast-fallingtears."
"Never mind; I know he won't care how it looks; he'll know why youcouldn't do better."
Thus encouraged, Lulu wrote with trembling fingers:
"Grandpa Dinsmore, I'm sorry for having been so naughty, obstinate, anddisobedient. Please forgive me, and I will do whatever you bid me; evenif you still say I must take lessons again of Signor Foresti."
She signed her name in full, and handing it to Max, asked,
"Will that do?"
"Yes; I'm sure it will; and I'm ever so glad you've done it at last, Lu."
"But, oh! Max, how can I go back to that horrid man after I've said somany times that I never would?"
She seemed inclined to snatch the note out of his hand, but he steppedback quickly out of reach, hastily deposited it in the note-book, andthat in his pocket.
"Don't repent of doing right, Lu," he said. "Think that you may beaverting sorrow and bereavement. I think I'd better go now, before youchange your mind."
"Oh no, don't, Max," she entreated; "I'm so lonesome without you; let uskeep together and comfort each other."
Max yielded, and they sat down again side by side.
Just then one of the school-girls came flying down the walk toward them,crying out half-breathlessly as she drew near, "Lu Raymond, don't youwant to hear the news?"
"What is it?" Lulu asked indifferently. "Something you'll be glad tohear. You know the spring term closes next week; well, it seems that thetime of Signor Foresti's engagement here expires with it, and, as he hasbeen offered a higher salary elsewhere, he refuses to renew the contractwith Professor Manton. I overheard their talk; something was said aboutyou, and the signor remarked in a passionate tone that you had alreadymissed your last chance to take another lesson of him, or even to finishthat interrupted one. Now, aren't you glad?"
"Yes," Lulu said, a momentary flash of joy illuminating her countenance,but only to be instantly replaced by the very sad and anxious expressionit had worn before.
"Oh, Max, will Grandpa Dinsmore think I--?"
"No," interrupted Max, "I'll tell him all about it; and he knows you'rehonest as the day. Why," turning his head at the sound of approachingwheels, "there's Grandpa Dinsmore now! I'll run and tell him, Lu;" and,without waiting for a reply, he sprang up and went.
"What's he going to tell?" asked the girl who had brought the news aboutSignor Foresti.
"That's our private affair," replied Lulu, coloring.
"Oh! is it indeed?" and she walked off with an offended air.
Lulu was too much agitated by contending emotions to care whether she hadgiven offence or not. She sat still, watching from afar the interviewbetween Mr. Dinsmore and Max. She saw the latter hand her note to theformer, who took it with a pleased look, read it, said something to Max,then alighted and came toward her, Max accompanying him.
She watched their approach in some agitation, and noticed that Max seemedto be talking fast and earnestly as they moved slowly onward.
At length they were close beside her.
She rose with a respectful "Good-morning, Grandpa Dinsmore," and, takingher hand in his, he bent down and kissed her, saying, "I am very glad, mydear, to be able to take you back into favor." Then he sat down on oneside of her, Max on the other.
CHPTER XXII.
SKIES BRIGHTEN.
"Oh, Grandpa Dinsmore!" cried Lulu, with a burst of sobs and tears, "doyou think it's true that--that papa's ship is lost?"
"I hope it is not," he said, "such reports have often proved false. So donot grieve too much over it: it is never wise to break our hearts overpossibilities."
"But I know you and Max cannot help feeling anxious about both yourfather and your little sisters; and that being the case, I do not thinkyou can study to any profit; and as the term has so nearly expired, Ishall, if you wish it, take you away from here at once.
"Not to Viamede, of course, but to Magnolia Hall, Mr. and Mrs. Emburyhaving sent you a warm invitation to make their house your home for thepresent. What do you say to my proposition?"
"Oh, Grandpa Dinsmore, how nice and kind is Cousin Molly and herhusband!" exclaimed Lulu. "I shall be, oh, so glad to go away from, here,especially to such a lovely home as theirs."
"Very well, then," he said with a smile, "go and gather up yourbelongings, while I settle matters with Professor Manton; then I willdrive you both over to Magnolia Hall, for Max is included in theinvitation."
Lulu needed no second bidding, but started up at once to obey.
"I'll go with you, sis, and help you pack, if you like," said Max. Theoffer was accepted gladly; and as Mr. Dinsmore's business with theprofessor would take him to the house, all three walked thither together.
An hour later the children had bidden a final good-by to Oakdale, andwere on their way to Magnolia Hall.
Arrived there, they received a warm welcome, and Lulu was greatly pleasedto find Evelyn a guest also, and that they were to share the same room.
"Oh, Eva!" she cried, "I'm delighted that you are here; but I thought youwere staying at the parsonage."
"So I was," Evelyn said, "and Rosie was here; but we have exchanged; sheand Walter have gone to visit Cousin Isa, while you, Max, and I letCousin Molly entertain us in her turn. I find it delightful at bothplaces."
"But oh, Lu, how you have been crying! Is it about the sick littlesisters?"
"Partly," Lulu answered, hardly able to speak for emotion, "for they arestill in great danger; but oh, much worse than that! they say--that--thatit's feared papa's ship is lost with--all on board. Oh, Eva, I've been sodisobedient to my father for months past, and now--I'm afraid I'll never,never see him again!"
Before she had finished her sentence, Evelyn's arms were around her,holding her close, while she wept with her.
"I can feel for you, dear," she sobbed, "for I know only too well howdreadful it is to be fatherless; but it is only a report, which may befalse. Do try to hope for the best. We will both pray for your dearfather, if he is still living; and for the little ones, that they may getwell."
After her long trial of the privations to be endured at Oakdale Academy,Lulu greatly enjoyed the comforts and luxuries of Magnolia Hall; yet thesuspense in regard to her father and little sisters was very hard tobear.
For two days longer there was no relief from that, but on the morning ofthe third, Max came bounding in on his return from Viamede, where he hadbeen to make his usual inquiries about Grace and the baby, his faceglowing with happiness.
"Oh, Lulu, good, good news!" he cried, tossing up his cap and caperingabout in the exuberance of his joy; "the children are considered out ofdanger if well taken care of--and we know they'll be that; and papa'sship has been heard from, all well on board; and we'll see him again, Ido believe; perhaps before a great while!"
Lulu wept for joy. "Oh, I am so glad, so happy!" she sobbed; "but oh, howI do want to see papa! the children too. Can't I go to them now, Max?"
"No, not yet; they wouldn't let me go into the wing where they are. Imean the doctors wouldn't; because the danger of contagion is not over,and won't be for a week or more."
"So long to wait?" she sighed.
"Yes," Max said, "but we ought to wait very patiently, now that we havehad such glorious news. And perhaps there'll be letters from papa byto-morrow."
His hope was fulfilled: the next morning's mail brought letters fromCaptain Raymond to his wife and each of his children--the baby, ofcourse, excepted.
Max handed Lulu hers.
She almost snatched it from him in her joy and eagerness, and hurriedwith it to her room, where she could be quite alone at this hour, Evelynbeing at school; for she was finishing out the term, not having the samereason for leaving before its close that Max and Lulu had.
But now that she held the precious, longed-for missive in her hand, Lulucould scarce find courage to open and read it; because she had goodreason to expect a severe reprimand from the father, whom, in spite oftheir mutual love, she had been persistently disobeyi
ng for the lastthree months. She would have given much to recall that past, and feelherself deserving of his commendation and such words of tender fatherlyaffection as he had often addressed to her by both tongue and pen.
At last she tore open the envelope, spread out the sheet, and withburning cheeks and fast beating heart, read:
"My dear little daughter; my heart misgives me that there is somethingvery much amiss with you. Not sickness, for your mamma, Max, and Gracieall make casual mention of you, and say directly that you are well; yet Ihave not seen a stroke of your pen for three months or more.
"Your little letters, so full of 'love to papa,' have been very sweet tome, so that I am loath to have them discontinued; but in addition tothat, daughter, I have, as you know, directed you to constantly report tome your progress in your studies, your conduct, etc., and in failing todo so you have been guilty of positive disobedience. What excuse have youto offer for such disregard of your father's commands?
"I cannot think there is any that will at all exonerate you from blame.Now I bid you write at once, giving me as full and detailed a report ofthe past three months as you possibly can.
"My child, I love you very dearly; there is never a day, I believe nevera waking hour, in which my heart does not go out in love to my darlingLulu, and send up a petition to a throne of grace on her behalf. I thinkthere is no sacrifice I would not willingly make for the good of any oneof my dear children, and my requirements are all meant to promote theirwelfare and happiness in this world and the next.
"My child, my dear, dear child, your father's heart bleeds for you whenhe thinks what a hard battle you have to fight with the evil natureinherited from him!
"But the battle must be fought, the victory won, if you would reachheaven at last.
"'The kingdom of heaven suffereth violence, and the violent take it byforce.'
"You have a strong will, my Lulu: make good use of it by determining thatyou will in spite of every hindrance, fight the good fight of faith andlay hold on eternal life; that you will win the victory over yourbesetting sins, and come off more than conqueror through Him that lovedus.
"I can hardly hope to hear that you have not been again in sad troubleand disgrace through the indulgence of your wilful, passionate temper,and you will dislike very much to confess it all to me; you will be sorryto pain me by the story of your wrong-doing; and certainly it will giveme much pain: yet I am more than willing to bear that for my dear child'ssake; and as I have given you the order to tell me all, to refrain fromso doing would be but a fresh act of disobedience.
"How glad I am to know that my little daughter is open and honest as theday! I repeat, write at once, a full report, to your loving father, LEVISRAYMOND."
"Oh," cried Lulu, speaking aloud in the excitement of feeling, "I do wishpapa wouldn't make me confess everything to him! I think it's dreadfullyhard! And what's the use when it hurts him so to hear it?
"And I'm sure it hurts me to tell it. I'll have to, though, and I won'tkeep anything back, though I'm terribly afraid he'll write that I must besent away to some boarding-school, so that Grandpa Dinsmore won't bebothered with me any more. Oh dear! if papa could only come home, I'drather take the hardest whipping he could give me, for though that'sdreadful while it lasts, it's soon over. But he can't come now; theywouldn't think of letting him come home again so soon; so he can't punishme in that way; and I wouldn't take it from anybody else," she added,with hotly flushing cheeks and flashing eyes; "and I don't believe he'dlet anybody else do it."
She turned to his letter and gave it a second reading.
"How kind and loving papa is!" she said to herself, penitent tearsspringing to her eyes, "It's plain he hasn't been told a word about mybadness--by Grandpa Dinsmore or Mamma Vi, or anybody else. That was goodin them.
"But now I must tell it all myself; he says for me to do it at once, andI won't go on disobeying him by waiting; besides, I may as well have itover."
Her writing-desk stood on a table near at hand, and opening it, she setto work without delay.
She began with a truthful report of her efforts to escape becoming one ofSignor Foresti's pupils and its failure; giving verbatim theconversations on the subject in which she had taken part; then describedwith equal faithfulness all that had passed between the signor andherself on the day of their collision, and all that followed in theschool-room and at Viamede.
She told of the fortnight in which all her time at home had to be spentin the confinement of her own room, then of the long weeks passed as aboarding-scholar at Oakdale Academy, describing her bedroom there, thesort of meals served in the dining-room, the rules that she found soirksome, and the treatment received at the hands of teachers andfellow-boarders; repeating as she went along every conversation that shefelt belonged to the confession required of her.
But the long story was not all told in that one day; it took several; forLulu was too young and inexperienced in composition and penmanship tomake very rapid work of it.
Evelyn was taken into her confidence, Capt. Raymond's letter read to her,then parts of the confession as it progressed from day to day, till shehad heard the whole.
"Do you think I have told papa everything I ought, Eva?" Lulu asked whenshe had finished reading aloud the last page of her report.
"Yes; I can't see that you've kept back a single thing: I'm sure yourfather is right in saying that you are open and honest as the day! AndOh, Lulu! what a nice, good father he must be! I don't wonder hischildren all love him so dearly, or that you and Max were so distressedwhen that bad news came."
"No," Lulu said, hastily brushing away a tear, "but I am sure you mustwonder how I can ever be disobedient to such a dear father; and I oftenwonder too, and just hate myself for it.
"Now my report is ready; I'm glad it's done; it seems an immense load offmy mind; but I must write a little note to go with it."
"Of course you must," said Evelyn; "and I'll run away and talk to CousinMolly while you do it."
She hastened from the room, and Lulu's pen was again set to work.
"My own dear, dear papa, I have your letter--such a nice, kind one to bewritten to such a bad, disobedient girl: it came last Wednesday, and thisis Saturday; for though I did obey you about the report, by beginning atonce to write it, I had to make it so long that I couldn't finish it tillnow.
"I have tried to tell 'the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but thetruth,' and Eva thinks I have succeeded.
"Papa, I am really and truly sorry for having been so disobedient andobstinate; passionate, too; but I'm always being naughty and then sorry,then naughty again.
"I don't see how you can keep on loving such a bad child; but oh, I'm soglad you do! Though it makes me sorrier than ever, and oh, so ashamed! Iknow I deserve punishment at your hands, and I have no doubt you wouldinflict it if you were here. I'm afraid you will say I must be sent awayto a boarding-school; but oh, dear papa, please don't. I do intend to begood, and not give any trouble to Grandpa Dinsmore or any of the rest. Ithink I was the first part of the winter, and would have been all thetime if they hadn't forced me to take lessons of that horrid man.
"Papa, I've always thought you wouldn't have said I must go back to himafter he struck me. Would you? And don't you think Grandpa Dinsmore wasvery hard on me to say I must? I don't think anybody but my father hasany right to punish me in that way, and I don't believe you would say hehad.
"Dear papa, won't you please write soon again and say that you forgiveme?"
But we will not give the whole of Lulu's letter to her father. She hadsomething to say of her own and Max's distress over the report that hisvessel was supposed to be lost, of the sickness of the dear littlesisters, the pleasant time she was having at Magnolia Hall, etc.
The letter and report together made quite a bulky package; Mr.Embury--not being in the secret of the report--laughed when he saw it,remarking that "she must be a famous letter-writer for so young a one."Lulu rejoiced when it was fairly on its way to her father, yet could n
otaltogether banish a feeling of anxiety in regard to the nature of thereply he would send her.
Grace and Baby Elsie improved steadily till they were quite well and pastthe danger of a relapse.
All the members of the Viamede family gathered there again as soon as thephysicians pronounced it entirely safe to do so; and a week or two later,when the little ones seemed quite strong enough for the journey, they allset out on their return to Ion, where they arrived in safety and health;received a joyful welcome from Edward, Zoe, other relatives and friendsgathered for the occasion, the servants and numerous dependants, andfound their own hearts filled with gladness in the consciousness of beingagain in their best-loved home.
THE END.
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