holidaysatroselandschapter2

Elsie's Holidays at Roselands
by: Martha Finley
First published in 1888

CHAPTER II.

"There comes
Forever something between us and what
We deem our happiness."

BYRON'S SARDANAPALUS.

It was quite late when the young party returned, and the next day all
were dull, and more than one peevish and fretful; so that Elsie, on whom
fell, almost entirely, the burden of entertaining them, had quite a
trying time.

She noticed at breakfast that Arthur seemed in an uncommonly bad humor,
preserving a sullen and dogged silence, excepting once when a sly whisper
from Harry Carrington drew from him an exclamation of fierce anger that
almost frightened the children, but only made Harry laugh.

Presently after, as they were about dispersing, Arthur came to her side
and whispered that he had something to say to her in private.

Elsie started and looked extremely annoyed, but said at once that he
might come to her room, and that there they could be quite alone, as
mammy would be down-stairs getting her breakfast.

She led the way and Arthur followed. He glanced hastily around on
entering and then locked the door and stood with his back against it.

Elsie became very pale.

"You needn't be _afraid_" he said, sneeringly, "I'm not going to _hurt_
you!"

"What do you want, Arthur? tell me quickly, please, because I must soon
go to papa, and I have a lesson to look over first," she said, mildly.

"I want you to lend me some money," he replied, speaking in a rapid and
determined manner; "I know you've got some, for I saw your purse the
other day, and it hadn't less than five dollars in it, I'm sure, and
that's just the sum I want."

"What do you want it for, Arthur?" she asked in a troubled voice.

"That's none of your business," he answered, fiercely. "I want the money;
I _must_ have it, and I'll pay it back next month, and that's all you
need to know."

"No, Arthur," she said gently, but very firmly, "unless you tell me all
about it, I cannot lend you a single cent, because papa has forbidden me
to do so, and I cannot disobey him."

"Nonsense! that's nothing but an excuse because you don't choose to do me
a favor," returned the boy angrily; "you weren't so particular about
obeying last summer when he made you sit all the afternoon at the piano,
because you didn't choose to play what he told you to."

"That was because it would have been breaking God's command; but this is
very different," replied Elsie, mildly.

"Well, if you _must_ know," said he, fiercely, "I want it to pay a debt;
I've been owing Dick Percival a dollar or so for several weeks, and last
night he won from me again, and he said if I didn't pay up he'd report me
to papa, or Horace, and get the money from them; and I got off only by
promising to let him have the full amount to-day; but my pocket money's
all gone, and I can't get anything out of mamma, because she told me the
last time I went to her, that she couldn't give me any more without papa
finding out all about it. So you see there is nobody to help me but you,
Elsie, for there's never any use in asking my sisters; they never have a
cent to spare! Now be a good, obliging girl; come and let me have the
money."

"Oh! Arthur, you've been gambling; how _could_ you do so?" she exclaimed
with a horrified look. "It is so _very_ wicked! you'll go to ruin,
Arthur, if you keep on in such bad ways; do go to grandpa and tell him
all about it, and promise never to do so again, and I am sure he will
forgive you, and pay your debts, and then you will feel a great deal
happier."

"Tell papa, indeed; never! I'd _die_ first! Elsie, you _must_ lend me the
money," he said, seizing her by the wrist.

"Let go of me, Arthur," she said, trying to free herself from his grasp.
"You are stronger than I am, but you know if you hurt me, papa will be
sure to find it out."

He threw her hand from him with a violence that made her stagger, and
catch at the furniture to save herself from falling.

"Will you give me the money then?" he asked angrily.

"If I should do so, I would have to put it down in my expense book, and
tell papa all about it, because he does not allow me to spend one cent
without telling him just what it went for; and that would be much worse
for you, Arthur, than to go and confess it yourself--a _great deal_
worse, I am sure."

"You could manage it well enough, if you wanted to," said he, sullenly;
"it would be an easy matter to add a few yards to the flannel, and a few
pounds to the tobacco that you bought so much of for the old servants.
Just give _me_ your book, and I'll fix it in a minute, and he'll never
find it out."

"Arthur!" she exclaimed, "I could _never_ do such a wicked thing! I would
not deceive papa so for any money; and even if I did he would be sure to
find it out."

Some one tried the door.

Arthur put his hand on the lock; then, turning toward Elsie again, for
an instant, shook his fist in her face, muttering, with an oath, that he
would be revenged, and make her sorry for her refusal to the last day of
her life. He then opened the door and went out, leaving poor Elsie pale,
and trembling like a leaf.

The person, whoever it was, that had tried the door had gone away again,
and Elsie had a few moments alone to recover herself, before Chloe came
to tell her that her father could not have her with him that morning, as
a gentleman had called on business.

And much as Elsie had always enjoyed that hour, she was almost glad of
the respite, so fearful was she that her papa would see that something
had agitated her, and insist upon knowing what it was. She was very much
troubled that she had been made the repository of such a secret, and
fearful that she ought to tell her father or grandfather, because it
seemed so very important that Arthur should be stopped in his evil
courses. But remembering that he had said that her assistance was his
only hope for escaping detection, she at length decided that she need
not speak about the matter to any one.

She had a trying time that day, endeavoring to keep the children amused;
and her ingenuity and patience were taxed to the utmost to think of
stories and games that would please them all.

It was still early in the afternoon when she seemed to have got quite to
the end of her list. She was trying to amuse Enna's set, while her three
companions and Herbert were taking care of themselves. They had sat down
on the floor, and were playing jack-stones.

"Let us play jack-stones, too," said Flora. "I don't know how; but Elsie,
you can teach me, can't you?"

"No, Flora, I cannot indeed, for papa says I must not play that game,
because he does not like to have me sit down on the floor," replied
Elsie. "We must try to think of something else."

"We needn't sit on the floor, need we? Couldn't we play it on the table?"
asked Flora.

"I don't know; perhaps we could; but papa said I mustn't play it,"
replied Elsie, shaking her head doubtfully.

"But maybe he'd let you, if we don't sit on the floor," persisted the
little girl.

Several other little ones joined their entreaties to Flora's, and at
length Elsie said, "Well, I will go and ask papa; perhaps he may let me,
if I tell him we are not going to sit on the floor."

She went to his dressing-room, but he was not there. Next she tried the
library, and was more successful; he was in an easy chair by the fire,
reading.

But now that she had found him, Elsie, remembering how often he had told
her never to ask a second time to do what he had once forbidden, was more
than half afraid to prefer her request, and very much inclined to go back
without doing so.

But as she stood a moment irresolute, he looked up from his book, and
seeing who it was, smiled and held out his hand.

She went to him then, and said timidly, "Papa, some of the little ones
want me to play jack-stones, to teach them how; may I, if we don't sit on
the floor?"

"Elsie," he replied, in a tone of great displeasure, "it was only the
other day that I positively forbade you to play that game, and, after all
that I have said to you about not asking a second time, it surprises me
very much that you would dare to do it. Go to my dressing-room, and shut
yourself into the closet there."

Elsie burst into tears, as she turned to obey, then, hesitatingly, asked,
"May I go down first, papa, and tell the children that I can't come to
play with them?"

"Elsie!" he exclaimed, in his sternest tone; and not daring to utter
another word, trembling and weeping, she hastened from the room, and shut
herself up as he had bidden her.

The closet was large, and there was a stool she could sit on; but when
she had shut the door, it was both dark and cold. It was a dismal place
to be in, and poor Elsie wondered how long she would have to stay there.

It seemed a long, long time; so long that she began to think it must be
night, and to fear that perhaps her papa had forgotten all about having
sent her there, or that he considered her so very naughty as to deserve
to stay there all night.

But at last she heard his step, and then he opened the door and called,
"Elsie!"

"Yes, papa, I am here," she replied in a trembling voice, full of tears.

"Come to me," he said; and then, as he took her hand, "Why, how cold you
are, child," he exclaimed; "I am really sorry you have been so long in
that dismal place. I did not intend to punish you so severely, and should
not have kept you there more than half an hour, at the _very longest_;
but company came in, and I quite forgot you."

While speaking thus he had led her up to the fire and sat down with her
on his knee. "My poor darling!" he said, "these little hands are very
cold, let papa rub them; and are your feet cold too?"

"Yes sir," she replied, and he pulled off her shoes and stockings, and
moving his chair closer to the fire, held her feet out toward the blaze,
and rubbed them in his warm hands.

"You have been crying a good deal," he said, looking keenly into her
face.

"Yes, papa," she replied, dropping her face on his breast and bursting
into tears; "I thought you were going to leave me there all night."

"Did you? and were you afraid?"

"No, papa, not _afraid_, because I know you would be sleeping in the next
room; and besides, God could take care of me as well in the closet as
anywhere else. Is it getting night, papa, or morning?"

"It is beginning to grow dark," he said. "But tell me why you cried, if
you were not afraid."

"Partly because I was uncomfortable, papa, but more because I was sorry
I had been naughty, and displeased you, and afraid that I can never learn
to be good."

"It is very strange," he remarked, "that you cannot learn not to ask to
do what I have forbidden. I shall have to punish you every time you do
it; for you _must_ learn that no _means no_, and that you are never to
coax or tease after papa has once said it. I love my little girl very
dearly, and want to do all I can to make her happy, but I must have her
entirely submissive and obedient to me. But stop crying now," he added,
wiping her eyes with his handkerchief. "Kiss me, and tell me you are
going to be a good girl, and I will forgive you this time."

"I will try, papa," she said, holding up her face for the kiss; "and I
would not have asked to play that, but the children begged me so, and
I thought you only said I mustn't, because you didn't want me to sit on
the floor; and we were going to try it on the table."

"Did I give that reason?" he asked gravely.

"No, papa," she replied, hanging her head.

"Then you had no right to think so. That _was one_ reason, but not the
_only_ one. I have heard it said that that play enlarges the knuckles,
and I don't choose to have these little hands of mine robbed of their
beauty," he added, playfully raising them to his lips.

Elsie smiled faintly, then drew a deep sigh.

"Is it so very hard to give up jack-stones?" he asked.

"No, papa; I don't care anything about _that_, but I was just thinking
how very naughty I must be growing; for you have had to punish me twice
in one week; and then I have had such a hard day of it--it was so
difficult to amuse the children. I think being up so late last night
made them feel cross."

"Ah!" he said, in a sympathizing tone; "and had you all the burden of
entertaining them? Where were Louise and Lora?"

"They are hardly ever with us, papa; we are too little to play with them,
they say, and Enna won't do anything her little friends want her to,
and"--she paused, and the color rushed over her face with the sudden
thought--"I am afraid I am telling tales."

"And so they put upon you all the trouble of entertaining both your own
company and theirs, eh? It is shameful! a downright imposition, and I
shall not put up with it!" he exclaimed indignantly. "I shall speak to
Lora and Louise, and tell them they must do their share of the work."

"Please, papa, _don't_," Elsie begged in a frightened tone. "I would a
great deal rather just go on as we have been; they will be so vexed."

"And suppose they are! they shall not hurt you," he said, drawing her
closer to him; "and they have no reason to be. I think the children will
all want to go to bed early to-night," he added, "and then you can come
here and sit by me while you copy your letter; shall you like that?"

"Very much, papa, thank you."

"Well, then we will put on the shoes and stockings again," he said
pleasantly, "and then you must bathe your eyes, and go to your supper;
and, as soon as the others retire, you may come back to me."

Elsie had to make haste, for the tea-bell rang almost immediately.

The others were just taking their places at the table when she entered
the room, and thus, their attention being occupied with the business in
hand, she escaped the battery of questions and looks of curiosity which
she had feared.

Flora did turn round after a little, to ask: "Why didn't you come back,
Elsie; wouldn't your papa let you play?" But Elsie's quiet "no" seemed to
satisfy her, and she made no further remark about it.

As Mr. Dinsmore had expected, the children were all ready for bed
directly after tea; and then Elsie went to him, and had another quiet
evening, which she enjoyed so much that she thought it almost made up for
all the troubles and trials of the day; for her father, feeling a little
remorseful on account of her long imprisonment in the closet, was, if
possible, even more than usually tender and affectionate in his manner
toward her.

The next morning Mr. Dinsmore found an opportunity to remonstrate with
his sisters on their neglect of the little guests, but did it in such a
way that they had no idea that Elsie had been complaining of them--as,
indeed, she had not--but supposed that he had himself noticed their
remissness; and feeling somewhat ashamed of their want of politeness,
they went into the children's room after breakfast, and exerted
themselves for an hour or two, for the entertainment of the little ones.
It was but a spasmodic effort, however, and they soon grew weary of the
exertion, and again let the burden fall upon Elsie. She did the best she
could, poor child, but these were tiresome and trying days from that
until New Year's.

One afternoon Mr. Horace Dinsmore was sitting in his own room, buried in
an interesting book, when the door opened and closed again very quietly,
and his little girl stole softly to his side, and laying her head on his
shoulder, stood there without uttering a word.

For hours she had been exerting herself to the utmost to amuse the
young guests, her efforts thwarted again and again by the petulance
and unreasonableness of Walter and Enna; she had also borne much teasing
from Arthur, and fault-finding from Mrs. Dinsmore, to whom Enna was
continually carrying tales, until, at length, no longer able to endure
it, she had stolen away to her father to seek for comfort.

"My little girl is tired," he said, passing his arm affectionately around
her, and pressing his lips on her forehead.

She burst into tears, and sobbed quite violently.

"Why, what is it, darling? what troubles my own sweet child?" he asked,
in a tone of mingled surprise and alarm, as he hastily laid aside his
book and drew her to his knee.

"Nothing, papa; at least, nothing very bad; I believe I am very silly,"
she replied, trying to smile through her tears.

"It must have been something, Elsie," he said, very gravely; "something
quite serious, I think, to affect you so; tell me what it was, daughter."

"Please don't ask me, papa," she begged imploringly.

"I hate concealments, Elsie, and shall be very much displeased if you try
them with me," he answered, almost sternly.

"Dear papa, _don't_ be angry," she pleaded, in a tremulous tone; "I don't
want to have any concealments from you, but you know I ought not to tell
tales. You won't _make_ me do it?"

"Is that it?" he said, kissing her. "No, I shall not ask you to tell
tales, but I am not going to have you abused by anybody, and shall take
care to find out from some one else who it is that annoys you."

"Oh, papa, please don't trouble yourself about it. I do not mind it at
all, now."

"But _I_ do," replied her father, "and I shall take care that you are not
annoyed in the same way again."

The tears rose in Elsie's eyes again, and she reproached herself severely
for allowing her father to see how troubled she had been; but she said
not another word, for she well knew from his look and tone that it would
be worse than useless.