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ELSIE'S WIDOWHOOD
A Sequel to "Elsie's Children"
by
MARTHA FINLEY
"Alone she wanders where with HIM she trod,
No arm to stay her, but she leans on God."
--O. W. HOLMES
New York
Dodd, Mead and Company
Publishers
Copyright, 1880, by Dodd, Mead & Company.
PREFACE.
It was not in my heart to give to my favorite child, Elsie, the sorrows
of Widowhood. But the public made the title and demanded the book; and
the public, I am told, is autocratic. So what could I do but write the
story and try to show how the love of Christ in the heart can make life
happy even under sore bereavement? The apostle says, "I am filled with
comfort, I am exceeding joyful in all our tribulation;" and since
trouble, trial and affliction are the lot of all in this world of sin
and sorrow, what greater kindness could I do you, dear reader, than to
show you where to go for relief and consolation? That this little book
may teach the sweet lesson to many a tried and burdened soul, is the
earnest prayer of your friend,
THE AUTHOR.
CONTENTS.
PAGE
CHAPTER I 7
CHAPTER II 18
CHAPTER III 28
CHAPTER IV 38
CHAPTER V 47
CHAPTER VI 59
CHAPTER VII 68
CHAPTER VIII 80
CHAPTER IX 91
CHAPTER X 101
CHAPTER XI 114
CHAPTER XII 127
CHAPTER XIII 140
CHAPTER XIV 151
CHAPTER XV 165
CHAPTER XVI 178
CHAPTER XVII 194
CHAPTER XVIII 207
CHAPTER XIX 220
CHAPTER XX 236
CHAPTER XXI 247
CHAPTER XXII 263
CHAPTER XXIII 279
CHAPTER XXIV 296
CHAPTER XXV 323
ELSIE'S WIDOWHOOD.
CHAPTER I.
"All love is sweet,
Given or returned. Common as light is love,
And its familiar voice wearies not ever."
--_Shelley._
"Come in, Vi, darling," said Mrs. Travilla's sweet voice, "we will be
glad to have you with us."
Violet, finding the door of her mother's dressing-room ajar, had stepped
in, then drawn hastily back, fearing to intrude upon what seemed a
private interview between her and her namesake daughter; Elsie being
seated on a cushion at her mamma's feet, her face half hidden on her
lap, while mamma's soft white hand gently caressed her hair and cheek.
"I feared my presence might not be quite desirable just now, mamma,"
Violet said gayly, coming forward as she spoke. "But what is the
matter?" she asked in alarm, perceiving that tears were trembling in the
soft brown eyes that were lifted to hers. "Dear mamma, are you ill? or
is Elsie? is anything wrong with her?"
"She shall answer for herself," the mother said with a sort of tremulous
gayety of tone and manner. "Come, bonny lassie, lift your head and tell
your sister of the calamity that has befallen you."
There was a whispered word or two of reply, and Elsie rose hastily and
glided from the room.
"Mamma, is she sick?" asked Violet, surprised and troubled.
"No, dear child. It is--the old story:" and the mother sighed
involuntarily. "We cannot keep her always; some one wants to take her
from us."
"Some one! oh who, mamma? who would dare? But you and papa will never
allow it?"
"Ah, my child, we cannot refuse; and I understand now, as I never did
before, why my father looked so sad when yours asked him for his
daughter."
Light flashed upon Violet. "Ah mamma, is that it? and who--but I think I
know. It is Lester Leland, is it not?"
Her mother's smile told her that her conjecture was correct.
Violet sighed as she took the seat just vacated by her sister, folded
her arms on her mother's lap, and looked up with loving eyes into her
face.
"Dear mamma, I am so sorry for you! for papa too, and for myself. What
shall I do without my sister? How can you and papa do without her? How
_can_ she? I'm sure no one in the world can ever be so dear to _me_ as
my own precious father and mother. And I wish--I wish Lester Leland had
never seen her."
"No, darling, we should not wish that. These things must be; God in his
infinite wisdom and goodness has so ordered it. I am sad at the thought
of parting with my dear child, yet how could I be so selfish as to wish
her to miss the great happiness that I have found in the love of husband
and children?"
Violet answered with a doubtful "Yes, mamma, but--"
"Well, dear?" her mother asked with a smile, after waiting in vain for
the conclusion of the sentence.
"I am sure there is not another man in all the world like papa; not one
half so dear and good and kind and lovable."
"Ah, you may change your mind about that some day. It is precisely what
I used to think and say of my dear father, before I quite learned the
worth of yours."
"Ah, yes, I forgot grandpa! he is--almost as nice and dear as papa. But
there can't be another one, I'm very, every sure of that. Lester Leland
is not half so nice. Oh I don't see how Elsie _can_!"
"How Elsie can what?" asked her father, coming in at that moment, and
regarding her with a half quizzical look and smile.
"Leave you and mamma for somebody else, you dear, dear, dearest father!"
returned Vi, springing up and running to him to put her arms about his
neck and half smother him with kisses.
"Then we may hope to keep you for a good while yet?" he said
interrogatively, holding her close and returning her caresses in most
tender fatherly fashion, the mother watching them with beaming eyes.
"Yes, indeed; till you grow quite, quite tired of me, papa."
"And that will never be, my pet. Ah, little wife, how rich we are in our
children! Yet not rich enough to part with one without a pang of regret.
But we will not trouble about that yet, since the evil day is not very
near."
"Oh isn't it?" cried Violet joyously.
"No; Lester goes to Italy in a few weeks, and it will be one, two, or
maybe three years before he returns to claim his bride."
"Ah, then it is not time to begin to fret about it yet!" cried Vi,
gleefully, smiles chasing away the clouds from her brow.
At her age a year seems a long while in anticipation.
"No, daughter, nor ever will be," her father responded with gentle
gravity. "I hope my little girl will never allow herself to indulge in
so useless and sinful a thing as fretting over either what can or what
cannot be helped."
"Ah, you don't mean to let me fret at all, I see, you dear, wise old
papa," she returned with a merry laugh. "Now I must find Elsie and pass
the lesson over to her. For I shrewdly suspect she's fretting over
Lester's expected departure."
"Away with you then!" was the laughing rejoinder, and she went dancing
and singing from the room.
"The dear, merry, light-hearted child," her father said, looking after
her. "Would that I could keep her always thus."
"Would you if you could, my husband?" Mrs. Travilla asked with a tender
smile, a look of loving reverence, as he sat down by her side.
"No, sweet wife, I would not," he answered emphatically; "for, as
Rutherford says, 'grace groweth best in winter;' and the Master says,
'As many as I love, I rebuke and chasten.'"
"Yes; and 'we must through much tribulation enter into the kingdom of
God.' Ah, we could never choose for our precious children exemption from
such trials and afflictions as He may see necessary to fit them for an
eternity of joy and bliss at His right hand!"
"No; nor for ourselves, nor for each other, my darling. But how well it
is that the choice is not for us! How could I ever choose a single pang
for you, beloved? vein of my heart, my life, my light, my joy!"
"Or I for you, my dear, dear husband!" she whispered, as he drew her
head to a resting place upon his breast and pressed a long kiss of
ardent affection on her pure white brow. "Ah, Edward, I sometimes fear
that I lean on you too much, love you too dearly! What could I ever do
without you--husband, friend, counsellor, guide--everything in one?"
Violet went very softly into her sister's dressing-room and stood for
several minutes watching her with a mixture of curiosity, interest and
amusement, before Elsie became aware of her presence.
She sat with her elbow on the window seat, her cheek in her hand, eyes
fixed on some distant point in the landscape, but evidently with
thoughts intent upon something quite foreign to it; for the color came
and went on the soft cheeks with every breath, and conscious smiles
played about the full red lips.
At last turning her head and catching her young sister's eye, she
crimsoned to the very forehead.
"O Elsie, don't mind me!" Violet said, springing to her side and putting
her arms around her. "Are you so very happy? You look so, and I am glad
for you; but--but I can't understand it."
"What, Vi?" Elsie asked, half hiding her blushing face on her sister's
shoulder.
"How you can love anybody better than our own dear, darling, precious
papa and mamma."
"Yes, I--I don't wonder, Vi," blushing more deeply than before, "but
they are not angry--dear, dear mamma and papa--it seems to me I never
loved them half so dearly before--and they say it is quite natural and
right."
"Then it must be, of course; but--I wish it was somebody else's sister
and not mine. I can't feel as if a stranger has as much right to my own
sister as I have; and I don't know how to do without you. O Elsie, can't
you be content to live on always in just the way we have ever since we
were little bits of things?"
Elsie answered with an ardent embrace and a murmured "Darling Vi, don't
be vexed with me. I'm sure you wouldn't if you knew how dearly, dearly I
love you."
"Well, I do suppose you can't help it!" sighed Violet, returning the
embrace.
"Can't help loving you? No, indeed; who could?" Elsie returned
laughingly. "You wouldn't wish it, surely? You value my affection?"
"Oh you dear old goose!" laughed Violet; "but that was a wilful
misunderstanding. None so stupid as those that won't comprehend. Now
I'll run away and leave you to your pleasant thoughts. May I tell
Molly?"
"Yes," Elsie answered with some hesitation, "she'll have to know soon.
Mamma thinks it should not be kept secret, though it must be so long
before--"
"Ah, that reminds me that I was to pass over to you the lesson papa just
gave me--that fretting is never wise or right. I leave you to make the
application," and she ran gayly away.
So joyous of heart, so full of youthful life and animation was she that
she seldom moved with sedateness and sobriety in the privacy of home,
but went tripping and dancing from room to room, often filling the house
with birdlike warblings or silvery laughter.
Molly Percival sat in her own cheery, pleasant room, pen in hand and
surrounded by books and papers over which she seemed very intent, though
now and then she lifted her head and sent a sweeping glance through the
open window, drinking in with delight the beauties of a panorama of hill
and dale, sparkling river, cultivated field and wild woodland, to which
the shifting lights and shadows, as now and again a fleecy, wind-swept
cloud partially obscured the brightness of the sun, lent the charm of
endless variety.
Molly's face was bright with intelligence and good humor. She enjoyed
her work and her increasing success. And she had still another happiness
in the change that had come over her mother.
Still feeble in intellect, Enna Johnson had become as remarkable for
gentleness and docility as she had formerly been for pride, arrogance
and self-will.
She had grown very fond of Molly, too, very proud of her attainments and
her growing fame, and asked no greater privilege than to sit in the room
with her, watching her at her work, and ever ready to wait upon and do
her errands.
And so she, too, had her home at Ion, made always welcome by its
large-hearted, generous master and mistress.
"Busy, as usual, I see," remarked Violet, as she came tripping in.
"Molly, you are the veriest bee, and richly deserve to have your hive
full of the finest honey. I'm the bearer of a bit of news very
interesting to Elsie and me, in fact I suppose I might say to all the
family. Have you time to hear it?"
"Yes, indeed, and to thank you for your kindness in bringing it," Molly
answered, laying down her pen and leaning back in a restful attitude.
"But sit down first, won't you?"
"Thank you, no; it's time to dress for dinner. I must just state the
fact and run away," said Violet, pulling out a tiny gold watch set with
brilliants. "It is that Elsie and Lester Leland are engaged."
"And your father and mother approve?" asked Molly in some surprise.
"Yes, of course; Elsie would never think of engaging herself to anybody
without their approval. But why should they be expected to object?"
"I don't know, only--he's poor, and most wealthy people would consider
that a very great objection."
Violet laughed lightly. "What an odd idea! If there is wealth on one
side, there's the less need of it on the other, I should think. And he
is intelligent, sensible, talented, amiable and good; rather handsome
too."
"And so you are pleased, Vi?"
"Yes, no, I don't know," and the bright face clouded slightly. "I
wish--but if people must marry, he'll do as well as another to rob me of
my sister, I suppose."
She tripped away, and Molly, dropping her head upon her folded arms on
the table, sighed profoundly.
Some one touched her on the shoulder, and her mother's voice asked,
"What's the matter, Molly? You don't envy her that poor artist fellow,
do you? You needn't: there'll be a better one coming along for you one
of these days."
"No, no; not for me! not for me!" gasped the girl. "I've nothing to do
with love or marriage, except to picture them for others. It's like
mixing delicious draughts for other lips, while I--I may not taste
them--may not have a single drop to cool my parched tongue, or quench my
burning thirst."
At the moment life seemed to stretch out before her as a dreary waste,
unbrightened by a single flower--a long, toilsome road to be trod in
loneliness and pain. Her heart uttered the old plaint: "They seem to
have everything and I nothing."
Then her cheek burned with shame, and penitent tears filled her eyes, as
better thoughts came crowding into her mind.
Had she not a better than an earthly love to cheer, comfort, and sustain
her on her way?--a love that would never fail, a Friend who would never
leave nor forsake her; whose sympathy was perfect; who was always
touched with the feeling of her infirmities, and into whose ear she
could ever whisper her every sorrow, perplexity, anxiety, certain of
help; for His love and power were infinite.
And the minor blessings of her lot were innumerable: the love of kindred
and friends, and the ability to do good and give pleasure by the
exercise of her God-given talents, not the least.