Elsie's Widowhood Read online

  CHAPTER VII.

  "But O! for the touch of a vanished hand, And the sound of a voice that is still." --_Tennyson._

  It was a chill November day, a day of lowering clouds, wind, rain, sleetand snow.

  Arthur Conly coming into the drawing-room at Ion and finding itsmistress there alone, remarked as he shook hands with her, "Thebeginning of winter, Cousin Elsie! It is setting in early. It froze hardlast night, and the wind to-day is cutting."

  "Yes," she said, "even papa and my two big, hardy boys found a shortwalk quite sufficient to satisfy them to-day. But you poor doctors canseldom consult your own comfort in regard to facing wind and storm. Takethis easy chair beside the fire."

  "Thank you, no; I shall find it quite warm enough on the sofa besideyou. I am glad to have found you alone, for I want to have a littlesemi-confidential chat."

  She gave him an inquiring look.

  "I am a little uneasy about grandpa," he went on: "he seems feeble andhas a troublesome cough, and I think should have a warmer climatethrough the coming winter. I think too, cousin, that such a changewould be by no means hurtful to you or your children," he continued,regarding her with a grave, professional air: "you are a trifle thin andpale, and need something to rouse and stimulate you."

  "What is it you wish, Arthur?" she asked, with a slight tremble in hervoice.

  "I should be glad if you would go to Viamede for the winter and take ourgrandfather with you."

  He paused for an answer.

  Her face was turned toward a window looking out upon the grounds; hereyes rested with mournful gaze upon a low mound of earth within a littleenclosure not many rods away.

  Arthur read her thoughts, and laying a gentle hand on hers, said in lowcompassionate tones:

  "He is not there, cousin, and his spirit will be as near you in yourLily's birthplace, and your own, as here. Is not that home also full ofpleasant memories of him?"

  She gave a silent assent.

  "And you can take all your other dear ones with you."

  "Except Edward."

  "Yes, but in his case it will only involve a little delay in receivingletters. Your father and Aunt Rose I am certain will go with you. Andour old grandpa--"

  "Is a dear old grandpa, and must not suffer anything I can save himfrom," she interrupted. "Yes, Arthur, I will go, if--if my fatherapproves and will accompany us, of which I have no doubt."

  He thanked her warmly. "It may be the saving of grandpa's life," hesaid.

  "He is getting very old, Arthur."

  "Yes, past eighty, but with care he may live to be a hundred; he has anaturally vigorous constitution. And how he mellows with age, Elsie! Hehas become a very lovely Christian, as humble and simple-hearted as alittle child."

  "Yes," she said turning toward him eyes filled with glad tears, "and hehas become very dear to me. I think he loves us all--especiallypapa--and that we shall have a happy winter together."

  "I don't doubt it; in fact, I quite envy you the prospect."

  "Oh could you not go with us to stay at least a few weeks? We should allbe so very glad to have you."

  "Quite impossible," he said, shaking his head rather ruefully. "I'mgreatly obliged, and should be delighted to accept your invitation, butit isn't often a busy doctor can venture to take such a holiday."

  "I'm very sorry. But you think there is no doubt that grandpa will bewilling to go?"

  "He'll not hesitate a moment if he hears Uncle Horace is to go. Heclings to him now more than to any other earthly creature."

  "Papa is in the library; shall we join him and hear what he thinks ofyour plan?" said Elsie, rising.

  "By all means," returned Arthur, and they did so.

  Mr. Dinsmore highly approved, as did Rose also on being called in to theconference.

  "How soon do you think of starting?" she asked, looking at Elsie, thenat her husband.

  "Papa should decide that," Elsie answered, a slight tremble in hervoice, thinking of the absent one to whom that question should have beenreferred were his dear presence still with them.

  She caught a look of tenderest love and sympathy from her father. Howwell he understood her! How ever thoughtful of her feelings he was!

  "I think the decision should rest with you, daughter," he said; "thoughI suppose the sooner the better."

  "Yes," said Arthur; "for grandpa especially."

  "I presume no great amount of preparation will be needful, since it isbut a change from one home to another," suggested Rose.

  "No," said Elsie, "and I think a week will suffice for mine. Papa, canbusiness matters be arranged in that time?"

  "Oh yes! so we will say this day week."

  The door had opened very quietly a few moments before, admitting littleRose and Walter, and stealing softly to their mother's side they werenow leaning on her lap, looking from one to another of their elders andlistening with some curiosity to their conversation.

  "What is it, mamma?" asked Rosie.

  "We are talking of going to Viamede, dear."

  "Oh that will be nice!"

  "But we tan't doe wis-out papa," prattled Walter; "tan we, mamma? I wishmy dear papa tum back quick."

  Rosie saw the pain in mamma's dear face, the tears in her eyes as shepressed a silent kiss on the brow of the innocent questioner, and withready, loving tact she seized the little fellow's hand, and, drawing himaway, "Come, Walter," she said, "let us go and tell the rest about it."

  They ran away together, and Arthur rose to take leave.

  "Am I imposing upon your unselfish kindness of heart, my dear cousin?"he asked in an undertone, taking Elsie's hand in his; "is it too great asacrifice of your own feelings and inclinations?"

  She answered with a text, as was not unusual with her, "'Even Christpleased not himself.'"

  Mr. and Mrs. Dinsmore were conversing apart at the moment.

  "Perhaps," returned Arthur musingly, "we might make some otherarrangement; grandpa might be willing to go without--"

  "No, no," she interrupted, "I could not think of giving him the pain ofseparation from papa, nor could I bear that myself. But do not troubleabout me; there will be much pleasure mingled with the pain--pleasure inministering to the comfort and happiness of the dear old grandpa, and inseeing Viamede and the old servants. I have always loved both the placeand them."

  Her father had caught a part of her words.

  "Separation from me?" he said, turning toward her, "who talks of that?It shall not be with my consent."

  "No, papa, nor with mine, for either grandpa or myself," she said with alook of affection and a slight smile. "Arthur, will you carry a messagefrom me to Isa?"

  "With pleasure."

  "Then tell her I should be very glad to have her spend the winter atViamede with us, if she feels that she would enjoy the trip and thequiet life we shall lead there. There will, of course, be no gayeties totempt a young girl."

  "Thank you," he said, his eyes shining; "I have not the slightest doubtthat she will be delighted to accept the invitation. And, now I think ofit, Aunt Enna and Molly will of course find a home with us at Roselandswhile you are away."

  "No, no, they will go with us," returned Elsie quickly, "unless indeedthey prefer to be left behind."

  Arthur suggested that they would be a great charge, especially upon thejourney, but the objection was promptly overruled by Mr. Dinsmore, Roseand Elsie.

  Molly must go, they all said; she would be sure to enjoy the changegreatly: and the poor child had so few pleasures; and the same was trueof Enna also: she had never seen Viamede, and could not fail to bedelighted with its loveliness; nor would it do to part her from Molly,who was now her chief happiness.

  "I trust they will appreciate your kindness; Molly will, I am sure,"Arthur said as he went away.

  As the door closed on him, Elsie glided to the window and stood in apensive attitude gazing out upon that lowly mound, only faintlydiscernible now in the gathering darkness, for night wa
s closing inearly by reason of the heavy clouds that obscured the sky.

  A yearning importunate cry was going up from her almost breaking heart."My husband, oh my husband, how can I live without you! Oh to hear oncemore the sound of your voice, to feel once again the clasp of your arm,the touch of your hand!"

  A sense of utter loneliness was upon her.

  But in another moment she felt herself enfolded in a strong yet tenderembrace, a gentle caressing hand smoothing her hair.

  "My darling, my precious one, my own beloved child!" murmured herfather's voice in its most endearing accents, as he drew her head to aresting place on his breast.

  She let it lie there, her tears falling fast.

  "I fear this going away is to be too great a trial to you," he said.

  "No, papa, but I am very weak. Forgive my selfish indulgence of mysorrow."

  "My darling, I can sympathize in it, at least to some extent. I remembereven yet the anguish of the first months of my mourning for yourmother."

  "Papa, I feel that my wound can never heal; it is too deep; deep as theroots of my love for him, that had been striking farther and fartherinto the soil with every one of the many days and years that we livedand loved together."

  "I fear it may be so," he answered with tenderest compassion; "yet timewill dull the edge of your sorrow; you will learn to dwell less upon thepain of the separation, and more upon his present happiness and thebliss of the reunion that will be drawing nearer and nearer with eachrevolving day. Dear one, this aching pain will not last forever; asRutherford says, 'Sorrow and the saints are not married together; orsuppose it were so, Heaven would make a divorce.'"

  "They are very sweet words," she murmured, "and sweeter still is theassurance given us in the Scriptures that 'our light affliction, whichis but for a moment, worketh for us a far more exceeding and eternalweight of glory.'"

  "Yes," said Rose, coming to her other side and speaking in low, tendertones, "dear Elsie, let those words comfort you; and these others also,'Whom the Lord loveth he chasteneth, and scourgeth every son whom hereceiveth.' But for that and similar texts I should wonder much thattrial of any kind was ever permitted to come nigh one who has been aloving disciple of Jesus since her very early years."

  "Was it that I loved my husband too well?" Elsie queried in tremuloustones. "I do not think I made an idol of him; for inexpressibly dear ashe was, the Master was dearer still."

  "If that be so you did not love him--your husband--too well," her fatheranswered.

  "I hear my children's voices; I must not let them see their mothergiving way to grief like this," she said, lifting her head and wipingaway her tears.

  They came in--the whole six--preceded by a servant bearing lights.

  There was a subdued eagerness about the younger ones, as they hastenedto their mother asking, "Mamma, is it really so--that we are going toViamede?"

  "Yes, dears, I believe it is quite settled. Grandpa approves, and I hopeyou are all pleased."

  "Oh yes, yes!"

  "If you are, mamma," the older girls said, noticing with affectionateconcern the traces of tears on her face; "if not, we prefer to stayhere."

  "Thank you, my darlings," she answered, smiling affectionately uponthem; "for several reasons I shall be glad to go, the principal beingthat our poor old grandfather needs the warm climate he will find there;and of course we could not think of letting him go alone."

  "Oh no!" they said; "he could not do without grandpa, and neither couldwe."

  "And neither could grandpa do without his eldest daughter, or herchildren," added Mr. Dinsmore playfully, sitting down and taking Walterupon one knee, Rosie upon the other. "So we will all go together, and Itrust will have a happy time in that lovely land of fruits and flowers."

  They had not seen it for several years, not since Walter was a babe andRosie so young that she remembered but little about it. Both weredelighted with the prospect before them, and plied their grandpa withmany eager questions, while their mother looked on with growingcheerfulness, resolutely putting aside her grief that she might not martheir pleasure.

  The other four had gathered about her, Vi on a cushion at her feet,Elsie seated close on one side, Herbert standing on the other, andHarold at the back of her chair, leaning fondly over her, now touchinghis lips to her cheek, now softly smoothing her shining hair.

  "Dear mamma, how beautiful you are!" he whispered.

  "You might as well say it out loud," remarked Herbert, overhearing thewords, "because everybody knows it and nobody would want to contradictyou."

  "We are very apt to think those beautiful whom we love," their mothersaid with a pleased smile, "and the love of my children is very sweet tome."

  "Yes, mamma, but you _are_ beautiful," insisted Harold; "it isn't onlymy love that makes you look so to me, though I do love youdearly--dearly."

  "Mamma knows we all do," said Violet; "we should be monsters ofingratitude if we did not."

  "As I should be if I were not filled with thankfulness to God that hehas blessed me with such dutiful and affectionate children," added themother.

  "Mamma, how soon will we go to Viamede?" asked Violet; and thatquestion being answered, another quickly followed. "We will not leaveMolly behind?"

  "No, certainly not; nor Aunt Enna, if they will kindly consent to gowith us."

  "Consent, mamma! I'm sure they cannot help being delighted to go. May Irun and tell them?"

  "Yes, my child; I know you always enjoy being the bearer of pleasantnews."

  Molly heard it with great pleasure and gratitude to her cousin; Ennawith even childish delight. Neither had a thought of declining.

  Isadore Conly, also, was very much pleased, and sure she should vastlyenjoy the winter with her relations, spite of many an enviousprognostication to the contrary on the part of her mother and Virginia.They would not go on any account, they averred, and were glad they hadbeen overlooked in the invitation--mean as it was in Elsie not toinclude them--for life at Viamede could not fail to be a very dullaffair for that winter at least.

  But Elsie, of course, heard none of these unkind remarks, and seeing thehappiness she was conferring not only upon more distant relations butupon her children also, who showed increasing pleasure in the thought ofthe expected visit to their lovely southern home as the time drew near,she felt fully repaid for the sacrifice of feeling she was making.