Elfie's Choice
'Go, whate'er the lot may be
That my Father sends to me,
Never am I comfortless
With His Word to aid and bless;
And while He His help is bringing,
I will cheer the way with singing.'--_Farningham._
Gwen refused to have her breakfast in bed the next morning, and
appeared downstairs at the usual hour with a white determined face.
She looked in astonishment at Elfie, who was flitting round the room
singing merrily, as she added fresh flowers to the vases on the
breakfast table.
'Well,' said Elfie, a little defiantly, 'I am not going to be
miserable, even if we have lost our money. There is no death in the
house, and they say beggars have lighter hearts than kings!'
And she would not have breakfast a silent meal, but chatted and
laughed, and had so much to tell Gwen of all that had happened during
her absence, that she infected the others with her light-hearted gaiety.
It was after Agatha had done her housekeeping that, sitting round the
fire, Gwen gave them full details of all they wished to know. She did
not spare herself, and her sisters wondered at the change in her, for
never before in their lives had they known Gwen to own herself in the
wrong. Then ways and means were discussed, Agatha declared she would
send away the two maids at once, and then with the help of a woman from
the village, she was sure they could still live together on her income;
but this the others would not hear of.
'I would set up a village shop if I had capital,' asserted Gwen, with a
little of her old spirit; 'the _rôle_ of governess for needy women is
past and gone; but for myself I know I shall not do better than stick
to literature. I can write, and I have had many openings which I have
refused, because I did not want the grind of it. If I set to work in
earnest now, I shall soon bring some grist to the mill.'
'By the bye,' said Agatha, 'I wonder if you could make anything of a
fat bundle of manuscripts that Mr. Lester bequeathed to me. I know you
love any ancient papers, and though they're Latin and Greek to me, you
may make something of them.'
She left the room, and soon returned with the papers. Gwen's eyes
glistened as she looked them through. And she seemed to forget time
and surroundings as she sat down and pored over them with eager
interest.
At last she looked up.
Agatha, if I can put these together, it will prove a valuable legacy.
Will you hand them over to me? There will be months' work, but it will
be well worth the labour. I know some men in London would give you
hundreds of pounds for some of these papers, but I shall not let them
slip out of my hands.'
'I am so glad you will be able to make something of them,' responded
Agatha simply. 'He said I might make what use I liked of them, so I
willingly give them to you.'
'So Gwen's livelihood is secured,' said Clare, trying to speak lightly.
'Now let me tell you what I propose to do. The other day Miss Villars
asked me if I knew of any lady who would undertake the post of matron
to a small Convalescent Home for clergymen's wives and daughters. It
is a private one that Miss Villars has started herself. She said she
wanted some one who was quite a lady, and who would be able to make
every one feel comfortable and at home. The salary would be about 50
pounds. She said she would only give the post to some one who was
really needing the money. I believe she would give it to me at once if
I told her how things were with us, and I should like it. I mean to go
over to her this afternoon and ask her about it. Well, Agatha, don't
you approve? Do you think me too incapable for the housekeeping?'
Clare finished her proposal rather wistfully, and Gwen looked at her in
wonder. She had noticed, as perhaps the others had not, the great
change that had passed over the wilful, capricious girl during the last
six months. There was a subdued tone in her voice, but a glad light in
her eye and a quiet restfulness about her manner that had been utterly
foreign to her before.
Clare had come through the refining fire, softened and purified; she
was a little quieter than she used to be, but every now and then her
old, clear laugh would ring out, and if her moods were not so mirthful
as Elfie's, they were quite as bright. Quietly and unassumingly she
had slipped into the way of giving her help whenever it was needed, and
now when Agatha contemplated the possibility of a coming separation
from her, she began to realize how much she would miss her. The
conversation continued, and then Elfie put in her word.
'And now what in the world am I to do? Will you agree to letting me go
up to London and play to the public? I could get pushed on by
Professor S----. He told me in Germany he could give me several very
good introductions, if I wished to make music my profession. There is
really nothing else I am good at.'
No one would hear of this suggestion, and later in the day Agatha
confided to Gwen a little of her anxiety about Alick Lester and Elfie.
'I do not think it is fancy. He is a great deal here--more than I
like--and now he has no eyes or ears for any one but her. I do not
know whether she likes him; I notice she is self-conscious and absorbed
when he is here, and that is not at all natural to her.'
'What prospects has he?' asked Gwen abruptly.
'I don't know. I sometimes wish I knew a little more about him. Ever
since he has opened the cupboard, he has had something weighing on his
mind, and though he tells me he has only about 200 pounds a year to
live upon, he seems in no hurry to get anything to do. It is an idle
life for him in this small village. He is with his cousin most of his
time, but he drops in to see us in the evening; in fact, they both come
here a great deal, and though Miss Miller has put her veto on it,
nothing will keep them away.'
'I wish Elfie would marry. She is not fit to fight life's battle;' and
Gwen sighed as she spoke, and her face relapsed into its now habitual
gloom.
But the next day brought a letter that decided Elfie's fate.
She opened it with a grimace at the handwriting.
'Now what does Cousin James want to say to me! Do you think he has
heard of our misfortunes?'
She read on, and her face grew thoughtful. Instead of handing it over
to any of her sisters to read, she left the room with it in her hand.
And in the privacy of her own bedroom she spread it out before her, and
a hard and sore battle commenced in her heart.
The letter was as follows:--
'DEAR ELFRIDA,--
'I have just heard in the city from Watkins, that your clever sister
has squandered out in California, all the money that was left you by
our aunt. It is a pity that you are all so wilful and ignorant about
money matters. However, I am quite willing to come forward and offer
my help, though in these hard times, with such an establishment as Dane
Hall to keep up, I find it increasingly difficult to live within my
income. Your cousin Helen is in very delicate health, and has for some
time past felt unequal to managing our large household. She needs some
bright companionship; and I now offer you a home with us, on condition
that you make yourself generally useful, and relieve your cousin of all
the house-keeping details that fret and annoy her. I shall allow you a
handsome allowance for dress in addition, as I shall wish to see you
suitably dressed for our position here. Let me hear how soon you can
come, and I will arrange that you shall be met at the station. Tell
Agatha I commend her for her prudence in refusing to let her money be
used for speculation. I hope it will be a lesson to Gwendoline in the
future. Her self-confidence needed to be shaken.
'Your affectionate cousin,
'JAMES DANE.'
Elfie read and re-read this through in a mist of tears.
'O God,' she murmured, 'anything but this! I cannot go. It would be
slow torture! Do Thou guide and direct me, and help me to decide; but
oh, if it is possible, do Thou open another door for me!'
Poor Elfie knew well enough that if she asked her sisters' advice, they
would be all agreed as to the impossibility of her accepting her
cousin's offer. She knew her Cousin Helen would not make her house a
happy or an easy home to live in, for she was a weak, nervously-strung
woman, with an irritable temper and an abject fear of her husband,
whose will was absolute law. And in the secret depths of Elfie's heart
there was a strong disinclination, even though she would not own it to
herself, to leave home at present. Though Alick Lester had not said
much to her, she knew well enough what his state of feelings were about
her; his frequent visits were becoming very pleasant to her, and to
leave it all, and perhaps never see him again, was hard to contemplate
calmly. He often talked to her of going abroad, and she feared he
might do so at once, were she gone. Yet, as she looked the matter
straight in the face, she could not but acknowledge to herself that she
had no right to refuse it.
'I will not live on Agatha's money; she would share her last crust with
any of us, but I am young and strong, and this has come when I am
looking out for employment. Many a girl would be thankful to have such
a home offered her. I must go and do my best, and I must decide
myself, without listening to the others. But oh, it will be a hard
life after our happy little home together here!'
The battle was won after she had knelt in prayer, and when she joined
her sisters again she was her sunny self.
But when she let them read the letter, they were all indignant at the
thought of it.
'I should think you would rather sweep a crossing than go!'
'To be a dependent on Cousin James, and a member of his household,
would be more than flesh and blood could stand!'
'Can you imagine the life of Cousin Helen's companion?'
And so on, until throwing back her little head importantly, Elfie was
able to protest.
'I know you won't approve of it, but I have decided that I shall go,
and you must look at the advantages and make the best of it if you want
to help me.'
'You shall never go with my consent,' said Agatha, roused from her
usual placidity.
'Then,' said Elfie, laughing, 'I shall go without it, or rather, I
shall never rest till I have coaxed a consent out of you. Think of
living in the dear old place we all love so well, in the lap of luxury,
with nothing to do but dress well, and eat well, and order the dinners,
and see that the servants do their work properly! And hasn't it just
come at the right time, when my future was so unsettled? Now if Clare
succeeds in her plan we shall be all provided for, and life will go
smoothly again. And we must comfort ourselves with the thought that we
are only paying visits away from home, and perhaps next Christmas we
may get together again!'
She rattled on, and then ran out of the room to hide the little choke
in her throat, and her sisters looked at each other in bewilderment.
'I never could have thought Elfie would have entertained the idea for a
minute,' said Agatha; 'she cannot have the same feelings we have about
Cousin James if she can so calmly accept his offer. But she was away
in Germany, I remember, when it all happened. I suppose it is rather
attractive to her than otherwise. She does not know Cousin Helen as we
do.'
'She has no proper pride,' said Gwen, with flashing eyes; and then she
pulled herself up.
'Well, I have driven her to it. That will be consolation to me!'
'She talks very lightly of leaving home,' said Clare. 'I wish I had
her happy way of looking at things. Nothing seems to trouble her.'
It needed a great deal of coaxing and persuasion to bring her sisters
round to her way of thinking; but Elfie was allowed at last to send off
her letter accepting her cousin's offer, and none of them ever knew how
much it cost her to do it.
Her sunny temper and light-hearted mirth often hid a good deal of
feeling; but, like many others with such a disposition, she never got
the credit of taking life seriously.
'She is such a child,' Agatha would say; 'she will be happy in any
circumstances. I am thankful she does not feel things deeply.'
And so none but One above knew the scalding tears dropped in secret,
and the terrible sinking of heart with which she viewed her future.
Clare went over to see Miss Villars in the afternoon, and after a long
talk obtained the post she coveted.
'You know,' she confided to her friend, 'since I have felt so
differently about things, I have been longing to do some work for God.
It is very pleasant living at home, but it is an idle life, isn't it?
With Miss Miller's energy, and Agatha aiding her in all the village
work, there is nothing left for me, and I long if I can to influence
others for good.'
'I am so thankful to hear you say so, and doubly thankful to think of
you being in a position to influence others of your own class. The
young people at the convalescent home will be so much more likely to
confide in you, and be impressed by what you say, from the very fact of
your being young yourself, and not beyond all the innocent pleasures of
youth.'
'But,' said Clare depreciatingly, 'I am such a beginner; that is the
one thing frightens me--my want of experience. And I am still very
moody, Miss Villars. Don't smile; I do think at the bottom of my heart
my restlessness and discontent is gone; but some days everything seems
black, and I wonder if I am a real Christian after all. I wish I had
your feelings.'
'Oh, these feelings!' said Miss Villars, with a little laugh. 'You
will be better, my dear child, when your life is more filled up, and
you have so much of others' troubles and pleasures to think of, that
you will have no time for your own.'
So Clare came back with her future settled, and the sisters were very
busy for the next few weeks making preparation for the two departing
ones. Alick and his cousin were in and out, and the former seemed to
get doubly depressed when he heard that Elfie was going away. Yet up
to the last his tongue seemed tied, and it was not until she was
actually in the railway carriage that he said a word. He had insisted
upon seeing her off, and Agatha, fussing over the luggage, was not
aware that anything passed between them.
Holding Elfie's hand tightly in his own, he said huskily and with
emphasis:--
'You won't forget me? I shall see you again; and meanwhile, believe I
mean it!'
That was all that was said, but the two understood each other, and
Elfie leant back in her seat, as the train steamed out of the station,
with joy throbbing through her heart.
'I shall not be at Cousin James' long, I am sure,' she repeated over
and over to herself; and so bravely and cheerfully she took up her new
life, and her letters home were so bright and amusing, that both Agatha
and Gwen thought that she was perfectly happy and well.