LULU'S SENTENCE.
Pending Capt. Raymond's verdict in regard to Lulu, life at Ion fell into
the old grooves, for her as well as the other members of the family.
Studies were taken up again by all the children, including Evelyn
Leland, where they had been dropped; Mr. Dinsmore and his daughter
giving instruction, and hearing recitations, as formerly.
This interval of waiting lasted for over two months, a longer period of
silence on the part of the husband and father than usual; but, as they
learned afterward, letters had been delayed in both going and coming.
Capt. Raymond, in his good ship, far out on the ocean, was wearying for
news from home, when his pressing want was most opportunely supplied by
a passing vessel.
She had a heavy mail for the man-of-war, and a generous share of it fell
to her commander.
He was soon seated in the privacy of his own cabin, with Violet's letter
open in his hand. It was sure to receive his attention before that of
any other correspondent.
With a swelling heart he read of the sore trial she had been passing
through, in the severe illness of Gracie and the babe. Deeply he
regretted not having been there to lighten her burdens with his sympathy
and help in the nursing; and though, at the time of writing, she was
able to report that the little sufferers were considered out of danger,
he could not repress a fear, amid his thankfulness, that there might be
a relapse, or the dread disease might leave behind it, as it so often
does, some lasting ill effect.
He lingered over the letter, re-reading passages here and there, but at
length laid it aside, and gave his attention to others bearing the same
post-mark.
There was a short one from Max, which stirred his heart with fatherly
love and pride in his boy; that came next after Violet's: then he opened
Lulu's bulky packet.
He sighed deeply as he laid it down after a careful perusal, during
which his face had grown stern and troubled, and, rising, paced the
cabin to and fro, his hands in his pockets, his head bowed on his
breast, which again and again heaved with a deep-drawn sigh.
"What I am to do with that child, I do not know," he groaned within
himself. "If I could make a home for her, and have her constantly with
me, I might perhaps be able to train her up aright, and help her to
learn the hard lesson how to rule her own spirit.
"I could not do that, however, without resigning from the service; and
that would be giving up my only means of earning a livelihood for her as
well as the others and myself. That is not to be thought of: nor could I
forsake the service without heartfelt regret, were I a millionnaire."
The captain was a man of prayer. Some moments were spent on his knees,
asking guidance and help for himself, and a change of heart for his
wayward little daughter; then, again seating himself at his
writing-table, he opened yet another letter, one whose superscription he
recognized as that of a business agent in one of our far Western States.
His face lighted up as he read, and a text flashed across his mind: "And
it shall come to pass, that before they call, I will answer; and while
they are yet speaking, I will hear."
That sheet of paper was the bearer of most strange, unlooked-for
tidings: a tract of wild land, bought by him for a trifle years before,
and long considered of little or no value, had suddenly become--by the
discovery that it contained rich mineral deposits, and the consequent
opening of mines, and laying out of a town upon it--worth many
thousands, perhaps millions of money.
And he--Capt. Raymond--was the undisputed owner of it all,--of wealth
beyond his wildest dreams. He could scarce believe it: it seemed
impossible. Yet it was undoubtedly true; and a bright vision of a lovely
home, with wife and children about him, rose up before his mind's eye,
and filled him with joy and gratitude to the Giver of all good.
He would send in his resignation, and realize the vision at the earliest
possible moment.
But stay! could he now, in the prime of life, forsake the service for
which he had been educated, and to which he had already given many of
his best years? Could he be content to bid a final farewell to the
glorious old ocean so long his home, so beautiful and lovable in its
varied moods, and settle down upon the unchanging land, quite reconciled
to its sameness? Would he not find in himself an insatiable longing to
be again upon the ever restless sea, treading once more the deck of his
gallant ship, monarch of her little world, director of all her
movements?
It was not a question to be decided in a moment; it required time for
thought; a careful consideration of seemingly conflicting duties; a
careful balancing of inclinations and interests, and for seeking counsel
of his best, his almighty and all-wise, Friend.
At Ion, as the summer heats approached, the question was mooted, "Where
shall we spend the next two or three months?" After some discussion, it
was decided that all should go North to Cape May for a time: afterward
they would break up into smaller parties, and scatter to different
points of interest, as they might fancy.
Lester and Elsie Leland would spend a portion of the season at Cliff
Cottage,--Evelyn's old home,--taking her and Lulu with them.
Edward and Zoe, too, and probably some of the others, would visit there.
All necessary arrangements had been made, and they were to start the
next day, when at last letters were received from Capt. Raymond.
Lulu's heart beat very fast at sight of them. She had been full of
delight at the prospect of her Northern trip, especially the visit to be
paid with Evelyn to her former home; the latter having in their private
talks dwelt much upon its many attractions, and the life she had led
there in the sweet companionship of her beloved father.
"Would there be any thing in papa's letter to prevent the carrying out
of the cherished plans?" Lulu asked herself as, in fear and trembling,
she watched Violet opening with eager fingers the packet handed her at
the breakfast-table.
Max and Gracie, too, looked on with interest quite equal to Lulu's; but
in their case there was only joyous expectancy unmingled with dread.
"There is something for each of us, as usual," Violet said presently,
with a smiling glance from one to another,--"Max, Lulu, Gracie, and
myself."
Lulu received hers,--only a folded slip of paper,--and, asking to be
excused, stole away to the privacy of her own room to read it.
"MY DEAR LITTLE DAUGHTER [it ran],--The story of your misconduct
has given a very sad heart to the father who loves you so dearly. I
forgive you, my child, but can no longer let you remain at Ion to
be a trouble and torment to our kind friends there. I shall remove
you elsewhere as soon as I can settle upon a suitable place. In the
mean time, if you are truly sorry for the past, you will, I am
sure, earnestly strive to be patient, submissive and obedient to
those who have you in charge.
"Your loving father,
"L. RAYMOND."
The paper fell from Lulu's hand, and fluttered to the floor, as she
folded her arms upon the sill of the window beside which she had seated
herself, and rested her head upon them.
"And that's all; just that I am to go away, nobody knows where; to be
separated from Max and Gracie and every one else that I care for: and
when papa comes home, maybe he won't visit me at all; or, if he does, it
will be for only a little bit, because, of course, he will want to spend
most of his leave where the others are. Oh, dear! oh, dear! I wish I'd
been good! I wish I'd been born sweet-tempered and patient, like Gracie.
I wonder if papa will ever, _ever_ let me come back!
"But perhaps grandpa Dinsmore and grandma Elsie will never invite me
again. I wouldn't in their place, I'm sure."
The captain's letter to his wife made the same announcement of his
intentions in regard to Lulu; adding, that, for the present he would
have her disposed of as should seem best to them--Mr. Dinsmore, his
daughter, and Violet herself--upon consultation together; he had entire
confidence, he said, in their wisdom and their kind feeling toward his
wayward, troublesome, yet still beloved child; so that he could trust
her to their tender mercies without hesitation.
He went on to say (and, ah, with what a smile of exultation and delight
those words were penned!), that "there was a possibility that he might
be with them again in the fall, long enough to find a suitable home for
Lulu; and, in the mean time, would they kindly seize any opportunity
that presented itself, to make inquiries in regard to such a place?"
Violet read that portion of his letter aloud to her mother and
grandfather, then asked if they saw in it any thing necessitating a
change in their plans for the summer.
They did not, and were glad for Lulu's sake that it was so.
Lulu, in the solitude of her room, was anxiously considering the same
question, and presently went with it to her mamma, taking her father's
note in her hand.
Finding Violet alone in her dressing-room, giving the captain's missive
another perusal, "Mamma Vi," she said, "what--what does papa tell you
about me?" She spoke hesitatingly, her head drooping, her cheeks hot
with blushes. "I mean, what does he say is to be done with me?"
Violet pitied the child from the bottom of her heart. "I wish, dear,"
she said, "that I could tell you he consented to mamma's request to let
us try you here a little longer; but--doesn't he say something about it
in his note to you?"
"Yes, mamma Vi," Lulu answered chokingly: "he says he can't let me stay
here any longer, to be such a trouble and torment to you all, and will
put me somewhere else as soon as he can find a suitable place; but he
doesn't say what is to be done with me just now."
"No, dear: he leaves that to us,--grandpa, mamma, and me,--and we have
decided that no change in the arrangements for the summer need be made."
"O mamma Vi! how good and kind you all are!" cried Lulu, in a burst of
irrestrainable gratitude; and her tears began to fall.
Violet was quite moved by the child's emotion. "You have been a dear
good girl of late, and we feel glad to take you with us," she said,
drawing her to her side, and giving her an affectionate kiss. "Your
father says there is a possibility that he may be at home with us again
for a while, in the fall; he expects to settle you somewhere then: but
if you continue to be so good, perhaps he may relent, and allow you
still to have a home with us. I am quite sure that such a child as you
have been for the last two or three months, would be heartily welcome to
us all."
"It's ever so good in you to say that, mamma Vi," returned the little
girl, furtively wiping her eyes; "and I'm determined to try with all my
might. I'd want to do it to please papa, even if I knew there wasn't one
bit of hope of his letting me stay. I don't think there is much,
because, if he decides a thing positively, he's very apt to stick to
it."
"Yes, I know; but he will doubtless take into account that circumstances
alter cases," Violet answered lightly, and with a pleasant smile. "And
at all events, you may be quite sure that whatever small influence I may
possess will be exerted in your behalf."
"I am sure you have a great deal, mamma Vi; and I thank you very much
for that promise," Lulu said, turning to go.
But at that instant a quick, boyish step sounded in the hall without;
and Max's voice at the door asked, "Mamma Vi, may I come in?"
"Yes," she said; and in he rushed, with a face full of excitement. "Lu,
I've been looking everywhere for you!" he cried. "What do you think?
just see that!" and he held up a bit of paper, waving it triumphantly in
the air, while he capered round the room in an ecstasy of delight.
"What is it?" asked Lulu. "Nothing but a strip of paper, as far as I can
see."
"That's because you haven't had a chance to examine it," he said,
laughing with pleasure. "It's a check with papa's name to it, and it's
good for fifty dollars. Now, do you wonder I'm delighted?"
"No, not if it's yours. Did he give it to you?"
"Half of it; the other half's to be divided between you and Gracie; and
it's just for pocket-money for this summer."
"Oh, that is nice!" exclaimed Violet. "I am very glad for you all."
Lulu looked astounded for an instant; then the tears welled up into her
eyes as she said falteringly, "I--don't deserve it; and--I thought papa
was so vexed with me, I should never have expected he'd give me a single
cent."
"He's just a splendid father, that's what he is!" cried Max, with
another bound of exultant delight. "He says that if we go to the
mountains, and grandpa thinks I can be trusted with a gun, I'm to have
one of the best that can be bought; and, if I'm a splendid boy all the
time, when he comes home I shall have a fine pony of my own."
Then sobering down, "I'm afraid, though, that he can't afford all that;
and I shall tell him so, and that I don't want him to spend too much of
his hard-earned pay on his only son."
"Good boy!" Violet said with an approving smile; "but I know it gives
your father far more pleasure to lay out money for his children than to
spend it on himself."
Still, she wondered within herself, for a moment, if her husband had in
some way become a little richer than he was when last he described his
circumstances to her. Had he had a legacy from some lately deceased
relative or friend? (surely no one could be more deserving of such
remembrance) or an increase of pay? But no, he would surely have told
her if either of those things had happened; and with that thought, the
subject was dismissed from her mind.
He had not told her of his good fortune--the sudden, unexpected change
in his circumstances: he wanted to keep it secret till he could see the
shining of her eyes, the lighting up of her face, as she learned that
their long separations were a thing of the past; that in future they
would have a home of their own, and be as constantly together as Lester
and Elsie, Edward and Zoe.
But his mind was full of plans for making her and his children happy by
means of his newly acquired wealth, and he had not been able to refrain
from some attempt to do so at once.
"I don't want papa to waste his money on me, either," Lulu said. "I'd
rather never have any pocket-money than have him do without a single
thing to give it to me."
"Dear child, I know you would," Violet said. "But take what he has
sent, and be happy with it; that is what he desires you to do; and I
think you need have no fear that he will want for any thing because of
having sent it to you."
"Let me see that, won't you, Maxie?" Lulu asked, following her brother
from the room.
He handed her the check, and she examined it curiously.
"It has your name on it," she remarked.
"Yes: it is drawn payable to me," returned Max, assuming an air of
importance.
"But," said Lulu, still examining it critically, "how can you turn it
into money?"
"Oh! I know all about that," laughed Max. "Papa explained it to me the
last time he was at home: I just write my name on the back of that, and
take it to a bank, and they'll give me the fifty dollars."
"And then you'll keep half, and divide the other half between Gracie and
me. That will be twelve dollars and fifty cents for each of us, won't
it?"
"No, it isn't to be divided equally: papa says you are to have fifteen
dollars, and Gracie ten,--because you are older than she is, you know."
"But she's better, and deserves more than I," said Lulu. "Anyway, she
shall have half, if she wants it."
"No, she doesn't," said Max. "I told her about it; and she thinks ten
dollars, to do just what she pleases with, is a great fortune."
"When will you get it, Max?"
"What,--the money? Not till after we go North. Grandpa Dinsmore says it
will be best to wait till then, as we won't care to spend any of it
here. O Lu!--you are going along, I suppose?--what does papa say
about--about what you told him in your last letter?"
"You may read for yourself, Max," replied Lulu, putting the note into
his hand.
She watched his face while he read, and knew by its expression that he
was sorry for her, even before he said so, as he handed it back.
"But perhaps papa may change his mind, if you keep on being as good as
you have been ever since you left that school," he added. "But you
haven't told me yet whether you are still to go North with us, or not."
"Yes: mamma Vi says I am. She says papa says in his letter to her, that
they may do what they think best with me for the present: and they will
take me along. It's good in them, isn't it?"
To that Max gave a hearty assent. "They are the kindest people in the
world," he said.