"Ask me not why I should love her;--
Look upon those soulful eyes!
Look while mirth or feeling move her,
And see there how sweetly rise
Thoughts gay and gentle from a breast
Which is of innocence the nest--
Which, though each joy were from it shred,
By truth would still be tenanted!"
--HOFFMAN'S _Poems_.
It was yet dark when Elsie awoke, but, hearing the clock strike five,
she knew it was morning. She lay still a little while, and then,
slipping softly out of bed, put her feet into her slippers, threw her
warm dressing-gown around her, and feeling for a little package she had
left on her toilet-table, she secured it and stole noiselessly from the
room.
All was darkness and silence in the house, but she had no thought of
fear; and, gliding gently down the hall to her papa's door, she turned
the handle very cautiously, when, to her great delight, she found it
had been left unfastened, and yielded readily to her touch.
She entered as quietly as a little mouse, listened a moment until
satisfied from his breathing that her father was still sound asleep,
then, stepping softly across the room, she laid her package down where
he could not fail to see it as soon as daylight came and his eyes were
opened. This accomplished, she stole back again as noiselessly as she
had come.
"Who dat?" demanded Chloe, starting up in bed as Elsie reentered her
own apartment.
"It is only I; did I frighten you, mammy?" answered the little girl
with a merry laugh.
"Ki? chile, dat _you?_ what you doin' runnin' 'bout de house all in de
dark, cold night?"
"It isn't night, mammy; I heard it strike five some time ago."
"Well, den, dis chile gwine get right up an' make de fire. But jes you
creep back into de bed, darlin', 'fore you cotch your death ob cold."
"I will, mammy," Elsie said, doing as she was desired; "but please
dress me as soon as the room is warm enough, won't you?"
"Yes, darlin', kase ob course I knows you want to be up early o'
Christmas mornin'. Ki! Miss Elsie, dat's a beautiful shawl you gave
your ole mammy. I sha'n't feel de cold at all dis winter."
"I hope not, mammy; and were Aunt Phillis, and Uncle Jack, and all the
rest pleased with their presents?"
"I reckon dey was, darlin', mos' ready to go off de handle, 'tirely."
Chloe had soon built up her fire and coaxed it into a bright blaze, and
in a few moments more she pronounced the room sufficiently warm for her
nursling to get up and be dressed.
Elsie was impatient to go to her father; but, even after she had been
carefully dressed and all her morning duties attended to, it was still
so early that Chloe advised her to wait a little longer, assuring her
that it was only a very short time since John had gone in to make his
master's fire and supply him with hot water for shaving.
So the little girl sat down and tried to drown her impatience in the
pages of a new book--one of her Christmas presents. But Chloe presently
stole softly behind her chair, and, holding up high above her head some
glittering object attached to a pretty gold chain, let it gradually
descend until it rested upon the open book.
Elsie started and jumped up with an exclamation of surprise.
"Wonder if you knows dat gen'leman, darlin'?" laughed Chloe.
"Oh! it is papa," cried the little girl, catching it in her hand, "my
own dear, darling papa! oh! how good of him to give it to me!" and she
danced about the room in her delight. "It is just himself, so exactly
like him! _Isn't_ it a good likeness, mammy?" she asked, drawing near
the light to examine it more closely. "Dear, dear, _darling_ papa!" and
she kissed it again and again.
Then gently drawing her mother's miniature from her bosom, she laid
them side by side.
"My papa and mamma; are they not beautiful, mammy? both of them?" she
asked, raising her swimming eyes to the dusky face leaning over her,
and gazing with such mournful fondness at the sweet girlish
countenance, so life-like and beautiful, yet calling up thoughts of
sorrow and bereavement.
"My darling young missus!" murmured the old nurse, "my own precious
chile dat dese arms hab carried so many years, dis ole heart like to
break when-eber I tinks ob you, an' 'members how your bright young face
done gone away foreber."
The big tears were rolling fast down the sable cheeks, and dropping
like rain on Elsie's curls, while the broad bosom heaved with sobs.
"But your ole mammy's been good to your little chile dat you lef'
behind, darlin','deed she has," she went on.
"Yes, mammy, indeed, indeed you have," Elsie said, twining her arms
lovingly around her. "But don't let us cry any more, for we know that
dear mamma is very happy in heaven, and does not wish us to grieve for
her now. I shall not show you the picture any more if it makes you cry
like that," she added half playfully.
"Not always, chile," Chloe said, wiping away her tears, "but jes dis
here mornin'--Christmas mornin', when she was always so bright and
merry. It seems only yesterday she went dancin' about jes like you."
"Yes, mammy dear, but she is with the angels now--my sweet, pretty
mamma!" Elsie whispered softly, with another tender, loving look at the
picture ere she returned it to its accustomed resting-place in her
bosom.
"And now I must go to papa," she said more cheerfully, "for it is
almost breakfast time."
"Is my darling satisfied _now?_" he asked, as she ran into his arms and
was folded in a close embrace.
"Yes, papa, indeed I am; thank you a thousand times; it is all I
wanted."
"And you have given me the most acceptable present you could have
found. It is a most excellent likeness, and I am delighted with it."
"I am so glad, papa, but it was Aunt Adelaide who thought of it."
"Ah! that was very kind of her. But how does my little girl feel this
morning, after all her dissipation?"
"Oh! very well, thank you, papa."
"You will not want to say any lesson to-day, I suppose?"
"Oh! yes, if you please, papa, and it does not give you too much
trouble," she said. "It is the very pleasantest hour in the day,
except--"
"Well, except what? Ah, yes, I understand. Well, my pet, it shall be as
you wish; but come to me directly after breakfast, as I am going out
early."
Elsie had had her hour with her father, but, though he had left her and
gone out, she still lingered in his dressing-room, looking over the
next day's lesson. At length, however, she closed the book and left the
room, intending to seek her young guests, who were in the lower part of
the house.
Miss Stevens' door was open as she passed, and that lady called to her,
"Elsie, dear, you sweet little creature, come here, and see what I have
for you."
Elsie obeyed, though rather reluctantly, and Miss Stevens bidding her
sit down, went to a drawer, and took out a large paper of mixed candy,
all of the best and most expensive kinds, which she put into the little
girl's hands with one of her sweetest smiles.
It was a strong temptation to a child who had a great fondness for such
things, but Elsie had prayed from her heart that morning for strength
to resist temptation, and it was given her.
"Thank you, ma'am, you are very kind," she said gratefully, "but I
cannot take it, because papa does not approve of my eating such things.
He gave me a little this morning, but said I must not have any more for
a long time."
"Now, that is quite too bad," exclaimed Miss Stevens, "but at least
take one or two, child; that much couldn't possibly hurt you, and your
papa need never know."
Elsie gave her a look of grieved surprise.
"Oh! could you think I would do that?" she said. "But _God_ would know,
Miss Stevens; and I should know it myself, and how could I ever look my
papa in the face again after deceiving him so?"
"Really, my dear, you are making a very serious matter of a mere
trifle," laughed the lady; "why, I have deceived my father more than
fifty times, and never thought it any harm. But here is something I am
sure you can take, and indeed you must, for I bought both it and the
candy expressly for you."
She replaced the candy in the drawer as she spoke, and took from
another a splendidly-bound book which she laid in Elsie's lap, saying,
with a triumphant air, "There, my dear, what do you think of that? is
it not handsome?"
Elsie's eyes sparkled; books were her greatest treasures; but feeling
an instinctive repugnance to taking a gift from one whom she could
neither respect nor love, she made an effort to decline it, though at
the same time thanking the lady warmly for her kind intentions.
But Miss Stevens would hear of no refusal, and fairly forced it upon
her acceptance, declaring that, as she had bought it expressly for her,
she should feel extremely hurt if she did not take it.
"Then I will, Miss Stevens," said the little girl, "and I am sure you
are very kind. I love books and pictures, too, and these are lovely
engravings," she added turning over the leaves with undisguised
pleasure.
"Yes, and the stories are right pretty, too," remarked Miss Stevens.
"Yes, ma'am, they look as if they were, and I should like dearly to
read them."
"Well, dear, just sit down and read; there's nothing to hinder. I'm
sure your little friends can do without you for an hour or two. Or, if
you prefer it, take the book and enjoy it with them; it is your own,
you know, to use as you like."
"Thank you, ma'am; but, though I can look at the pictures, I must not
read the stories until I have asked papa, because he does not allow me
to read anything now without first showing it to him."
"Dear me! how very strict he is!" exclaimed Miss Stevens.
"I wonder," she thought to herself, "if he would expect to domineer
over his wife in that style?"
Elsie was slowly turning over the leaves of the book, enjoying the
pictures very much, studying them intently, but resolutely refraining
from even glancing over the printed pages. But at length she closed it,
and, looking out of the window, said, with a slight sigh, "Oh! I wish
papa would come; but I'm afraid he won't for a long while, and I do so
want to read these stories."
"Suppose you let me read one to you," suggested Miss Stevens; "that
would not be _your_ reading it, you know."
Elsie looked shocked at the proposal. "Oh! no, ma'am, thank you, I know
you mean to be kind; but I could not do it; it would be so very wrong;
quite the same, I am sure, as if I read it with my own eyes," she
answered hurriedly; and then, fearing to be tempted further, she
excused herself and went in search of her young companions.
She found them in the drawing-room.
"Wasn't it too provoking, Elsie, that those people didn't send home my
bracelet last night?" exclaimed Caroline Howard. "I have just been
telling Lucy about it. I think that it was such a shame for them to
disappoint me, for I wanted to have it on the tree."
"I am sorry you were disappointed, Carry, but perhaps it will come
to-day," Elsie answered in a sympathizing tone. And then she showed the
new book, which she still held in her hand.
They spent some time in examining it, talking about and admiring the
pictures, and then went out for a walk.
"Has papa come in yet, mammy?" was Elsie's first question on returning.
"Yes, darlin', I tink he's in the drawin'-room dis berry minute," Chloe
answered, as she took off the little girl's hat, and carefully smoothed
her hair.
"There, there! mammy, won't that do now? I'm in a little bit of a
hurry," Elsie said with a merry little laugh, as she slipped playfully
from under her nurse's hand, and ran down-stairs.
But she was doomed to disappointment for the present, for her papa was
seated on the sofa, beside Miss Stevens, talking to her; and so she
must wait a little longer. At last, however, he rose, went to the other
side of the room, and stood a moment looking out of the window.
Then Elsie hastened to take her book from a table, where she had laid
it, and going up to him, said, "Papa!"
He turned round instantly, asking in a pleasant tone, "Well, daughter,
what is it?"
She put the book into his hand, saying eagerly, "It is a Christmas gift
from Miss Stevens, papa; will you let me read it?"
He did not answer immediately, but turned over the leaves, glancing
rapidly over page after page, but not too rapidly to be able to form a
pretty correct idea of the contents.
"No, daughter," he said, handing it back to her, "you must content
yourself with looking at the pictures; they are by far the best part;
the stories are very unsuitable for a little girl of your age, and
would, indeed, be unprofitable reading for any one."
She looked a little disappointed.
"I am glad I can _trust_ my little daughter, and feel certain that she
will not disobey me," he said, smiling kindly on her, and patting her
cheek.
She answered him with a bright, happy look, full of confiding
affection, laid the book away without a murmur, and left the room--her
father's eyes following her with a fond, loving glance.
Miss Stevens, who had watched them both closely during this little
scene, bit her lips with vexation at the result of her manoeuvre.
She had come to Roselands with the fixed determination to lay siege to
Mr. Horace Dinsmore's heart, and flattering and petting his little
daughter was one of her modes of attack; but his decided disapproval of
her present, she perceived, did not augur well for the success of her
schemes. She was by no means in despair, however, for she had great
confidence in the power of her own personal attractions, being really
tolerably pretty, and considering herself a great beauty, as well as
very highly accomplished.
As Elsie ran out into the hall, she found herself suddenly caught in
Mr. Travilla's arms.
"'A merry Christmas and a happy New Year!' little Elsie," he said,
kissing her on both cheeks. "Now I have caught you figuratively and
literally, my little lady, so what are you going to give me, eh?"
"Indeed, sir, I think you've helped yourself to the only thing I have
to give at present," she answered with a merry silvery laugh.
"Nay, _give_ me one, little lady," said he, "one such hug and kiss as I
dare say your father gets half-a-dozen times in a day."
She gave it very heartily.
"Ah! I wish you were ten years older," he said as he set her down.
"If I had been, you wouldn't have got the kiss," she replied, smiling
archly.
"Now, it's my turn," he said, taking something from his pocket.
"I expected you'd catch _me_, and so thought it best to come prepared."
He took her hand, as he spoke, and placed a beautiful little gold
thimble on her finger. "There, that's to encourage you in industry."
"Thank you, sir; oh! it's a little beauty! I must run and show it to
papa. But I must not forget my politeness," she added, hastily throwing
open the drawing-room door. "Come in, Mr. Travilla."
She waited quietly until the usual greetings were exchanged, then went
up to her father and showed her new gift.
He quite entered into her pleasure, and remarked, with a glance at Miss
Stevens, "that her friends were very kind."
The lady's hopes rose. He was then pleased with her attention to his
child, even though he did not altogether approve her choice of a gift.
There was a large party to dinner that day, and the children came down
to the dessert. Miss Stevens, who had contrived to be seated next to
Mr. Dinsmore, made an effort, on the entrance of the juveniles, to have
Elsie placed on her other side; but Mr. Travilla was too quick for her,
and had his young favorite on his knee before she could gain her
attention.
The lady was disappointed, and Elsie herself only half satisfied; but
the two gentlemen, who thoroughly understood Miss Stevens and saw
through all her manoeuvres, exchanged glances of amusement and
satisfaction.
After dinner Mr. Travilla invited Elsie, Carry, Lucy, and Mary, to take
a ride in his carriage, which invitation was joyfully accepted by
all--Mr. Dinsmore giving a ready consent to Elsie's request to be
permitted to go.
They had a very merry time, for Mr. Travilla quite laid himself out for
their entertainment, and no one knew better than he how to amuse ladies
of their age.
It was nearly dark when they returned, and Elsie went at once to her
room to be dressed for the evening. But she found it unoccupied--Aunt
Chloe, as it afterward appeared, having gone down to the quarter to
carry some of the little girl's gifts to one or two who were too old
and feeble to come up to the house to receive them.
Elsie rang the bell, waited a little, and then, feeling impatient to be
dressed, ran down to the kitchen to see what had become of her nurse.
A very animated discussion was going on there, just at that moment,
between the cook and two or three of her sable companions, and the
first words that reached the child's ears, as she stood on the
threshold, were, "I tell you, you ole darkie, you dunno nuffin' 'bout
it! Massa Horace gwine marry _dat_ bit ob paint an' finery! no such
ting! Massa's got more sense."
The words were spoken in a most scornful tone, and Elsie, into whose
childish mind the possibility of her father's marrying again had never
entered, stood spellbound with astonishment.
But the conversation went on, the speakers quite unconscious of her
vicinity.
It was Pompey's voice that replied.
"Ef Marse Horace don't like her, what for they been gwine ridin' ebery
afternoon? will you tell me dat, darkies? an' don't dis niggah see him
sit beside her mornin', noon, an' night, laughin' an' talkin' at de
table an' in de parlor? an' don't she keep a kissin' little Miss Elsie,
an' callin' her pretty critter, sweet critter, an' de like?"
"_She_ ma to our sweet little Miss Elsie! Bah! I tell you, Pomp, Marse
Horace got more sense," returned the cook, indignantly.
"Aunt Chloe don't b'lieve no such stuff," put in another voice; "she
says Marse Horace _couldn't_ put such trash in her sweet young mistis's
place."
"Aunt Chloe's a berry fine woman, no doubt," observed Pomp
disdainfully, "but I reckon Marse Horace ain't gwine to infide his
matermonical intentions to her; and I consider it quite consequential
on Marster's being young and handsome that he will take another wife."
The next speaker said something about his having lived a good while
without, and though Miss Stevens _was_ setting her cap, maybe he
wouldn't be caught. But Elsie only gathered the sense of it, hardly
heard the words, and, bounding away like a frightened deer to her own
room, her little heart beating wildly with a confused sense of
suffering, she threw herself on the bed. She shed no tears, but there
was, oh! such a weight on her heart, such a terrible though vague sense
of the instability of all earthly happiness.
There Chloe found her, and wondered much what ailed her darling, what
made her so silent, and yet so restless, and caused such a deep flush
on her cheek. She feared she was feverish, her little hand was so hot
and dry; but Elsie insisted that she was quite well, and so Chloe tried
to think it was only fatigue.
She would fain have persuaded the little girl to lie still upon her bed
and rest, and let her tea be brought to her there; but Elsie answered
that she would much rather be dressed, and join her young companions in
the nursery. They, too, wondered what ailed her, she was so very quiet
and ate almost nothing at all. They asked if she was sick. She only
shook her head. "Was she tired, then?" "Yes, she believed she was," and
she leaned her head wearily on her hand.
But, indeed, most of the party seemed dull; they had gone through such
a round of pleasure and excitement, for the last two or three days,
that now a reaction was beginning, and they wanted rest, especially the
very little ones, who all retired quite early, when Elsie and her mates
joined their parents in the drawing-room.
Elsie looked eagerly around for her father, the moment she entered the
room. He was beside Miss Stevens, who was at the piano, performing a
very difficult piece of music. He was leaning over her, turning the
leaves, and apparently listening with a great deal of pleasure, for she
was really a fine musician.
Elsie felt sick at heart at the sight--although a few hours before it
would have given her no concern--and found it very difficult to listen
to and answer the remarks Mrs. Carrington was making to her about her
Christmas presents, and the nice ride they had had that afternoon.
Mr. Travilla was watching her; he had noticed, as soon as she came in,
the sad and troubled look which had come over her face, and, following
the glance of her eyes, he guessed at the cause.
He knew there was no danger of the trial that she feared, and would
have been glad to tell her so; but he felt that it was too delicate a
subject for him to venture on; it might seem too much like meddling in
Mr. Dinsmore's affairs. But he did the next best thing--got the four
little girls into a corner, and tried to entertain them with stories
and charades.
Elsie seemed interested for a time, but every now and then her eyes
would wander to the other side of the room, where her father still
stood listening to Miss Stevens' music.
At length Mr. Travilla was called away to give his opinion about some
tableaux the young ladies were arranging; and Elsie, knowing it was her
usual time for retiring, and not caring to avail herself of her
father's permission to stay up until nine o'clock, stole quietly away
to her room unobserved by any one, and feeling as if Miss Stevens had
already robbed her of her father.
She wiped away a few quiet tears, as she went, and was very silent and
sad, while her mammy was preparing her for bed. She hardly knew how to
do without her good-night kiss, but feeling as she did, it had seemed
quite impossible to ask for it while Miss Stevens was so near him.
When she knelt down to pray, she became painfully conscious that a
feeling of positive dislike to that lady had been creeping into her
heart, and she asked earnestly to be enabled to put it away. But she
prayed, also, that she might be spared the trial that she feared, if
God's will were so; and she thought surely it was because she had found
out that Miss Stevens was not good, not truthful, or sincere.
"Perhaps dear papa will come to say good-night before I am asleep," she
murmured to herself as, calmed and soothed by thus casting her burden
on the Lord, she laid her head upon her pillow.
He, however, had become interested in the subject of the tableaux, and
did not miss his little girl until the sound of the clock striking ten
reminded him of her, and he looked around expecting to see her still in
the room; but, not seeing her, he asked Lucy Carrington where she was.
"Oh!" said Lucy, "she's been gone these two hours, I should think! I
guess she must have gone to bed."
"Strange that she did not come to bid me goodnight," he exclaimed in a
low tone, more as if thinking aloud than speaking to Lucy.
He hastily left the room.
Mr. Travilla followed.
"Dinsmore," said he.
Mr. Dinsmore stopped, and Travilla, drawing him to one side, said in an
undertone, "I think my little friend is in trouble to-night."
"Ah!" he exclaimed, with a startled look, "what can it be? I did not
hear of any accident--she has not been hurt? is not sick? tell me,
Travilla, quickly, if anything ails my child."
"Nothing, nothing, Dinsmore, only you know servants will talk, and
children have ears, and eyes, too, sometimes, and I saw her watching
you to-night with a very sad expression."
"Nonsense!" exclaimed Mr. Dinsmore, growing very red and looking
extremely vexed; "I wouldn't have had such thoughts put into the
child's head for any money. Are you sure of it, Travilla?"
"I am sure she was watching you very closely tonight, and looking very
miserable."
"Poor darling!" murmured the father. "Thank you, Travilla," shaking his
friend heartily by the hand. "Good-night; I shall not be down again if
you will be so good as to excuse me to the others."
And he went up the stairs almost at a bound, and the next moment was
standing beside his sleeping child, looking anxiously down at the
little flushed cheeks and tear-swollen eyes, for, disappointed that he
did not come to bid her good-night, she had cried herself to sleep.
"Poor darling!" he murmured again, as he stooped over her and kissed
away a tear that still trembled on her eyelash.
He longed to tell her that all her fears were groundless, that none
other could ever fill her place in his heart, but he did not like to
wake her, and so, pressing another light kiss on her cheek, he left her
to dream on unconscious of his visit.