JNIUSF'SITY OF ** KO. ■ CAROLINA School of Library Science UNIVERSITY OF N CAT CHAPEL HILL ^^ I II II I II III 1 0003058254 Digitized by the Internet Archive in 2012 with funding from University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill http://www.archive.org/details/elsieswomanhoodsOfinle A LIST OF THE ELSIE BOOKS AND OTHER POPULAR BOOKS BY MARTHA FINLEY ELSIE DINSMORE. ELSIE'S HOLIDAYS AT ROSELANDS. ELSIE'S GIRLHOOD. ELSIE'S WOMANHOOD. ELSIE'S MOTHERHOOD. ELSIE'S CHILDREN. ELSIE'S WIDOWHOOD. GRANDMOTHER ELSIE. ELSIE'S NEW RELATIONS. ELSIE AT NANTUCKET. THE TWO ELSIES. ELSIE'S KITH AND KIN. ELSIE'S FRIENDS AT WOODS URN. CHRISTMAS WITH GRANDMA ELSIE. ELSIE AND THE RA YMONDS. ELSIE YACHTING WITH THE RA YMONDS. ELSIE'S VACATION. ELSIE AT VI AM ED E. ELSIE AT ION. ELSIE AT THE WORLD'S FAIR. ELSIE'S JOURNEY ON INLAND WATERS. ELSIE AT HOME. ELSIE ON THE HUDSON. ELSIE IN THE SOUTH. MILDRED KEITH. MILDRED AT ROSELANDS. MILDRED'S MARRIED LIFE. MILDRED AND ELSIE. MILDRED AT HOME. MILDRED'S BOYS AND GIRLS. MILDRED'S NEW DA UGHTER. CASELLA. SIGNING THE CONTRACT AND WHAT IT COST. THE TRAGEDY OF WILD RIVER VALLEY. OUR FRED. AN OLD-FASHIONED BOY. WANTED, A PEDIGREE. THE THORN IN THE NEST. ELSIE'S WOMANHOOD A SEQUEL TO "ELSIE'S GIRLHOOD" BY MARTHA FINLEY (FARQUHARSON) Author of "Elsie Dinsmore," "Elsie's Holidays," "Elsie's Girlhood," "Our Fred," "Wanted, a Pedigree," Etc. 1 A perfect woman, nobly plann'd To warn, to comfort and command ; , And yet a spirit still, and bright, With something of an angel light." Wordsworth. * NEW YORK DODD, MEAD & COMPANY PUBLISHERS Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1875, by DODD & MEAD in the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington. THE BURR PRINTING HOUSE, NEWYOflJC PEE FACE. The call for a sequel to " Elsie's Girlhood y haying become too loud and importunate to be resisted, the pleasant task of writing it was un- dertaken. Dates compelled thn bringing in of the late war : and it has been the earnest desire and effort of the author to so treat the subject as to wound the feelings of none ; to be as impartial as if writing history ; and, by drawing a true, though alas, but faint picture, of the great losses and sufferings on both sides, to make the very thought of a renewal of the awful strife utterly abhorrent to every lover of humanity, and espe- cially of this, our own dear native land. Are we not one people : speaking the same language ; worshipping the one true and living God ; having a common history, a common ancestry; and united by the tenderest tiei oi 696706 4 PREFACE. blood ? And is not this great grand, glorious old Union — known and respected all over the world — our common country, our joy and pride ? ! let us forget all bitterness, and live henceforth in love, harmony, and mutual helpfulness. For all I know of the Teche country I am indebted to Mr. Edward King's " Old and New Louisiana " ; for facts and date3 in regard to the war, and in large measure for Mr. Dinsmore's views as to its causes, etc., principally to Head- ley's "History of the Great Rebellion. " The description of Andersonville, and the life led by the prisoners there, was supplied by one who shared it for six months. An effort was made to obtain a sketch of a Northern prison also, but without success. Yet what need to balance accounts in respect to these matters ? The unnatural strife is over, and we are again ona united people. 11 F. Cjragter Jfirst. «* Oh I there is one affection which no stain Of earth can ever darken ;— when two And, The goiter and the manlier, that a chain Of kindred taate has fastened mind to mind." — PlEOTTjkl.'B POKSCS. Ik one of the cool green alleys at the Oaks, Rose and Adelaide Dinsmore were pacing slowly to and fro, each with an arm about the other's waist, in girlish fashion, while they conversed together in low, confidential tones. At a little distance to one side, the young son and heir had thrown himself prone upon the grass in the shade of a magnificent oak, story- book in hand. Much interested he seemed in his book, yet occasionally his eye would wander from its fascinating pages to watch, with pride and delight, the tiny Eosebud steady herself against a tree, then run with eager, tottering steps and a crow of delight into her nurse's out- stretched arms, to be hugged, kissed, praised, and coaxed to try it oyer again. As Rose and Adelaide turned at one end ot the alley, Mr Horace Dinsmore entered it at the 6 ELSIE'S WOMANHOOD. other. Hurriedly approaching the little toddle^ he stooped and held out his hands, saying, ii» tender, half-tremulous tones, "Come, darling, come to papa." She ran into his arms, crying, "Papa," ic her sweet baby voice, and catching her up, he covered her face with kisses ; then, holding her clasped fondly to his breast, walked on toward his wife and sister. " What is it, Horace ? " asked Rose anxiously, as they neared each other ; for she saw that his face was pale and troubled. " I bring you strange tidings, my Rose," he answered low and sadly, as she laid her hand upon his arm with an affectionate look up into his face. Hers grew pale. " Bad news from home ? " she almost gasped. " No, no ; I've had no word from our absent relatives or friends, and I'm not sure I ought to call it bad news either ; though I cannot yet think of it with equanimity, it has come upoa me so suddenly." "What?" asked both ladies in a breath; " don't keep us in suspense." " It has been going on for years — on his part — I can see it now — but, blind fool that I was, 1 never suspected it till to-day, when it came upoii me like a thunderbolt." " What ? who ? " ELSIE'S WOMANHOOD ? " Trayilla ; after years of patient waiting he has won her at last — our darling — and — and I've given her to him." Both ladies stood dumb with astonishment, while young Horace, who had come running up In time to catch the last words, cried out with vehemence, " Papa ! what ! give our Elsie away ? how could you ? how can we ever do without her ? But she shan't go, for she belongs to me too, and I'll never give consent ! " Mr. Dinsmore and the ladies smiled faintly. " They seemed to think mine quite sufficient, Horace," replied his father, ' ' and I'm afraid will hardly consider it necessary to ask yours." "But, papa, we can't spare her — you know we can't — and why should you go and give he* away to Mr. Travilla or anybody ? " " My son, had I refused, it would have caused her great unhappiness." " Then she ought to be ashamed to go and love Mr. Travilla better than you and all of us." " I was never more astonished in my life I " cried Adelaide. " Nor I," said Rose. " And he's a great deal too old for her." " That is an objection," replied her husband, u but if not insuperable to her, need not be to us." "Think of your intimate friend addressing you as father ! " laughed Adelaide ; " its realty too ridiculous." 8 ELSIE'S WOMANHOOD. " That need not be — is not an inevitalle con- sequence of the match," smiled Mr. Dinsmore, softly caressing the little one clinging about his neck. Still conyersing on the same subject, the minds of all being full of it to the exclusion of every other, they moved on as if by common con- sent toward the house. " Do you think it can be possible that she is really and truly in love with him ? " queried Eose ; "a man so much older than herself, and so intimate in the family since her early child- hood." " Judge for yourself, my dear," said Mi. Dinsmore, as a turn in the path brought them within a few yards of the lovers, who were moving slowly in their direction so that the two parties must meet in another moment. One glance at the beaming faces, the rich color coming and going in Elsie's cheek, the soft, glad light in her sweet brown eyes, was a suffi- cient reply to Rose's question. She looked s,\ her husband with a satisfied smile, which he returned. But little Horace, leaving his father's side, rushed up to Elsie, and catching her hand in his, cried, " 111 never give my consent ! and you belong to me. Mr. Travilla, you can't have her." To the child's surprise Elsie only blushed and sm led, while Mr. Travilla, without the EL8IE>8 WOMANHOOD 9 slightest appearance of alarm or vexation, said, " Ah, my dear boy, you may just as well ; for she is willing to be mine and your papa has given her to me." But the others had come up, and inquiring looks, smiles and kindly greetings were exchanged. " Mr. Travilla," said Eose, half playfully but with a tear trembling in her eye, "you have stolen a march upon us, and I can hardly for- give you just yet." "I regret that exceedingly, my dear madam, " he answered, with a smile that belied his words, "But Miss Adelaide, you will still stand my friend ?" "I don't know," she answered demurely; " there's only one serious objection in my mind (if Elsie is satisfied) ; that I don't quite fancy having a nephew some year3 older than myself." " Ah ! well, I shall be quite willing to he considered a brother-in-law," " Company to dinner ! " shouted Horace. " I see a carriage ; don't you, papa ? " " It is your uncle Edward's," said Mr. Travilla, "Yes" said Adelaide, "Lora and her tribe are in it, no doubt ; and probably Mrs. Bowles too (Carrie Howard you know, Elsie). They have been late in calling." " Some good reason for it, and they are none the less welcome," remarked Ko*e, quickening her pace. 10 ELSIE'S WOMANHOOD The one party reached the house just as the other two had fairly alighted, and a scene of joyous greeting ensued. " You dear child ! how good of you to come back to us again, and single too," exclaimed Mrs. Bowles, clasping Elsie in a warm embrace ; " I'd almost given it up, and expected by every mail to hear you had become Lady or Countess this, or Duchess that." Elsie smiled and blushed, and meeting the eye of her betrothed fixed for an instant upon her with an expression of unutterable content, thank- fulness, love and pride, smiled and blushed again, Carrie caught the look and its effect upon her friend, and almost breathless with astonishment, took the first opportunity, after all were seated in the drawing-room, to prefer a whispered request to be taken to Elsie's own private apartment for a moment, to see that her hair and dress were in proper order. They had come to spend the day, and bon- nets and shawls had already been carried away by the servants in attendance. " Now girls, don't run off for an interminable chat by yourselves," said Mrs. Howard, as the two rose and crossed the room together. " No, Aunt Lora, we'll not stay long," said Elsie ; " for I want to improve every moment of your visit, in renewing my acquaintance with you and my young cousins. ' KLSlB'Jb WOMANHOOD, 11 u Your family has grown, Lora," remarked aer brother. "Yes, rather faster than jours," she said; looking round with pride upon her little group of four boys, and a girl yet in her nurse's arms, " Go and 3peak to your uncle, Ned, "Walter, Horace, and Arthur. You see I have given you a name-sake ; and this little pet we call Rose Louise, for her two aunties. Yours is Rose, too I and what a darling ! and how little Horace has grown I " "Elsie, it can't be possible !" cried Carrie, \he instant they found themselves alone. " What can't ?" and Elsie's blush and smile were charming. " That you and Mr. Travilla are lovers ! I saw it in your faces ; but, 'tis too absurd I "Why, he's your father's friend, and nearly as olcL" "All the wiser and better for that, Carrie, dear. But he is young in heart, and far from looking old, I think. I have grown so sick of your silly, brainless fops, who expect women neither to talk sense nor understand it." "Ah, I daresay! and Mr, Trayilla is the most sensible and polished of men — always ex- cepting my own spouse, o* course. And you won't be taken away from us ; so I give mj consent" Elsie's only answer was a mirthful, amused look. !• 12 ELSIE'S WOMANHOOD. " Oh, but I am glad to see you back ! * Carrie ran on. " It seems an age since you went away," " Thank you. And your husband ? what is he like?" " I was never good at description, but he is a fine specimen of a Kentucky planter, and very fond of his wife. By the way, you must blame me that Edward and Lora were so late in wel- coming you home. I arrived only yesterday morning, quite fatigued with my journey, and begged them to wait till to-day, and bring me with them." " That was right. We have not seen Enna yet, or Arthur. Grandpa and Mrs. Dinsmore and Walter called yesterday. But there is the dinner-bell. Let me conduct you to the dining- room. " They were just in time to sit down with the others. Elsie quickly perceived by her Aunt Lora's look and manner, that she, too, had heard the news, but no remark was made on the subject till the ladies had retired to the drawing-room, leaving the gentlemen to the enjoyment of their after-dinner cigars. Then Mrs. Howard, facing round upon her niece as they entered the room, exclaimed, "Elsie, you naughty child I are you not ashamed of yourself ? " " On account of what, auntie ? * ELSIE'S WOMANHOOD. IS " Such unconscious innocence ! " cried Lora, tlrrowing up the white and jewelled hands she had rested lightly for an instant upon the young girl's shoulder, while gazing steadily into the smiling, blushing, sparkling face. " You haven't been planning and promising to giye Adelaide and me a nephew older than ourselves ? I tell you, miss, I refuse my consent. Why, it's ab- surd ! the very idea ! I used to think him almost an elderly gentleman when you were a chit of eight or nine." "I remember having had some such idea myself ; but he must have been growing young since then," returned Elsie, demurely. " He seems to have been standing still (wait- ing for you, I suppose) ; but I never was more astonished in my life ! " said Lora, dropping into a chair. " It has been a genuine surprise to us all," remarked Rose. " To me as much as any one, mamma," said Elsie. "I — had thought he was engaged to you, Aunt Adie." "To »w, child!" " Why, my dear, I surely told you about her engagement to my brother Edward ? " exclaimed Adelaide and Rose simultaneously. " You tried, mamma, and it was all my own fault that I did not hear the whole truth. And, Aunt Adie, I cannot understand how he could 14 JSLSIS'S WOMANHOOD. ever fancy me, while he might have hoped there was a possibility of winning you." " 'Twould have been a much more suitable match/' said Lora. " Though I'd have preferred the one in contemplation, except that in the other case, she would not be carried quite away from us. But suppose we proceed to business. We should have a double wedding, I think," " Oh, don't talk of it yet," said Kose, with a slight tremble in her voice, and looking at Elsie's flushed, conscious face with eyes full of unshed tears. "Adelaide's is to be within the next two months, and — we cannot give up Elsie so suddenly." " Of course not," said Adelaide ; " and I should have serious objections to being used as a foil to Elsie's youth and beauty." The Howards and Mr. Travilla stayed to tea, and shortly before that meal the party was in- creased by the arrival of Walter Dinamore and Mrs. Dick Percival. Enna had lost flesh and color ; and long indulgence of a fretful, peevish temper had drawn down the corners of her mouth, lined hex forehead, and left its ugly pencil] ings here and there over the once pretty face, so that it. already began to look old and care-worn. She was very gayly dressed, in the height of the fashion, and rather overloaded with jewelry ; but powder and rouge could not altogether conceal the ravages of ELSIE'S WOMANHOOD. 15 discontent and passion. She was coiscious of the fact, and inwardly dwelt with mortification and chagrin upon the contrast presented by her own faded face to that of Elsie, so fair and blooming. so almost childish in its sweet purity and inno- cence of expression. " So yon are single yet," Enna said, with a coyert sneer ; " and not likely to marry either* so far as I've been able to learn. They'll soon begin to call you an old maid." "Will they?" said Mr. Dinsmore, with & laugh in which all present joined, Enna herself excepted ; " well, if she is a fair specimen of that much-abused class, they are far more attractive than is generally supposed." "You needn't laugh," said Enna; "I was four years younger than she is now, wben I married. I wasn't going to wait till they began to call me an old maid," "To bear that reproach is not the worst calamity that can befall a woman," replied Mr. Dinsmore gravely ; then changed the subject by & kind inquiry in regard to Arthur. " Slowly and steadily improving," answered Walter. " The doctors are now satisfied that he is not permanently crippled, thotgh he still uses a crutch." <%gfer jfaonfc Mutual love, the crown of all our bllee." —Milton's Puuj>is« Lo«7. After a half hour of waiting for her son'g return, Mrs- Travilla sat down to her lonely cup of tea. There was no lack of delicacies on the table, and in all Edward's taste had been con- sulted. To make him comfortable and happj was, next to serving her God, the great aim and object of his mother's life ; and, in a less degree, of that of every servant in the house. They had all been born and brought up at Ion, and had all these years known him as the kindest, most rea- sonable and considerate of masters. " Wish Massa Edard come. Dese waffles jes J prime to-night, an' he so fond ob dem," remarked a pretty mulatto girl, handing a plate of them to her mistress. " Yes, Prilla, he expected to be at home, but Is probably taking tea at the Oaks or Roselandg." And the old lady supped her tea and ate her waffles with a serene, happy face, now and then BLSIE'8 WOMANHOOD, Vt )i$itQ(L up by a pleased smile which her attendant handmaiden was at a loss to interpret. Haying finished her meal, Mrs. Tra villa threw a shawl about her shoulders and stepped out upon the veranda ; then, tempted by the beauty of the night, walked down the avenue to meet her son or see if there were any signs of his approach. She had not gone half the distance ere the sound of horses' hoofs reached her ear — distant at first but coming rapidly nearer, till a lady and gentleman drew rein at the gate, while the ser- vant who had been riding in the rear dismounted and threw it open. They came dashing up, but paused and drew rein again at sight of the old lady standing there under the trees. "Mother," cried her son, springing from the saddle, " you were not alarmed ? anxious ? surely." " No, no, Edward, but glad to see you ; and Elsie ! my dear child, this is very kind." " Not at all, dear Mrs. Travilla ; it is so lovely an evening for a ride ; or walk either," she added, giving her hand to her escort and springing lightly to the ground. Mr. Travilla put the hand into that of his mother. " Take her to your heart, mother ; she is mine — ours I " he said, in low tone3 tremulous with joy. The old lady folded the slight girlish form to 18 KL81R % 8 WOMANHOOD. her breast for a moment, with a silence more elo- quent than words. "Thank God! thanxGodl" she murmured at length. " He has given me my heart's desire ; n and mingled caresses and tears fell upon Elsie's face. " For many years I have loyed you as my own child, and now I am to have you. How bright our home will be, Edward. But we are darken- ing another. Her father ; can he — has he — " " He has given her to me/*' answered the son quickly ; " and she has — we have given ourselvet to each other. Let me give an arm to each ox you and we will go into the house." The veranda at the Oaks was deserted, and the house very quiet, though lights still shone here and there, as Mr. Travilla and Elsie rode up and dismounted on their return from Ion. A servant rose from the grass, where he had been lying at his ease ; came forward and led away his young mistress's pony, while the lover bade her a tender good-night, sprang into the saddle again, and presently disappeared, lost to view amid the trees and the windings of the road, though the sound of horse's hoofs still came faintly to Elsie's ear as she stood intently listen- ing, a sweet smile irradiating every feature. Absorbed in her own thoughts, and in the effort to catch those fast-retreating sounds, she iid not hear a step approaching from behind; ELSIE'S WOMANHOOD. IS bat an arm encircled her waist, and a low- breathed "My darling" woke her from her reverie. She looked up, her eyes beaming with affec- tion ; " Papa ! I am rather late, am I net ?" " Not yery. Hark ! the clock is but just striking ten. Come, let us sit down here for a little. We have hardly had a chat together to- day." He sighed slightly as he drew her closer to him. " No, papa dear, there has been so much company," she answered, laying her head on his shoulder. " And—" "And what?" as she paused. "Youi father used to know all that concerned you one way or the other. Is he to be shut out from your confidence now ? Ah, I think he musi have been for some time past." " I could not tell you that, papa," she mur- mured, blushing visibly in the moonlight " Indeed, I hardly knew it myself till—" "Till when?" "The night of Sophie's wedding." "Ah!" he said, musingly; "but I cannot get over my surprise ; he is your senior by so many years, and you have known him from childhood and looked upon him as a sort of uncle. I wonder at your choice." " But you don't object, papa ?" "No, if I must give you away — and I've 20 ELSIE'S WOMANHOOD. always known that would come some time— I would rather it should be to him than anyone else, for I ean never doubt that he will be tendeT and true to my precious one, when Bhe leaves her father's home for his." " Papa, papa, don't speak of it," she cried, winding her arms about his neck, " I can't bear to think of it ; that our home will no longer be the same, that I can't come to you every night and be folded to your heart as I have been ever since I was a little girl." " Well, dearest," he said, after a moment, in which he held her very close and caressed her with exceeding tenderness, " we shall not be far apart or miss passing some time together many days of the year. And you are not in haste to leave me ? " " Oh, no, no ! why should I be ? Please keep me a little while yet" " I intend to : it will take at least a year to get used to the thought of doing without you, and so long Travilla must be content to wait Nor can we give you up wholly even then ; your suite of rooms shall still be yours, and you must oome now and then and occupy them for days or weeks at a time. "Now, daughter, good-night. Come to me to-morrow morning in my study, soon after breakfast, I have something more of importance to say to you." ELSIE'S WOMAXHOO&. 21 " I ghall obey, and without fear," she answered gayly, " though I remember once being quite frightened at a similar order ; but that was when I was a silly little girl and didn't know how dearly my own papa loved me." "And when he was strangely stern to his own little child," he answered, with anothei tfcn\ler caress. <%to Spirit M So fair that had you beauty's picture took. It must like her, or not like beauty look." — Allbtw'b HsaraY VTL Elsie paused at the half-open doer of he? father's private room. Mr. Dinsmore, like most men, was fond of light and air ; through the wide-open windows the morning breeze stole softly in, laden with sweets from garden and lawn, and the rich carpet of oak and green was flecked with gold where the sunbeams came shimmering down between the fluttering leaves of a beautiful vine that had festooned itself about the one looking to the east Mr. Dinsmore was seated at his desk with a pile of papers before him — legal documents in appearance ; he would open one, glance over its contents, lay it aside, and take up another only to treat it in like manner. Elsie stood but a moment watching him with loving, admiring eyes, then gliding noiselessly across the floor, dropped gracefully at his feet ELSXE'8 WOMANHOOD. 2£ and laying her folded hands upon his knee loo&ed up into his face with an arch, sweet smile. " Mon pere, I have come for my lecture, o? whatever you have laid up in store for me," she announced with mock gravity and a slight trem- ble of pretended fear in her voice. Dropping the paper he held, and passing one hand caressingly over her shining hair, "My darling, how very, very lovely you are ! " he said, the words bursting spontaneously from his lips ; " there is no flaw in your beauty, and your face beams with happiness." " Papa turned flatterer ! " she cried, spring- ing up and allowing him to draw her to his knee. " Fm waiting for the lecture," she said pre- sently, " you know I always like to have disagree- able things over as soon as possible." " Who told you there was to be a lecture ? " "Nobody, sir." "What have you been doing that you feel entitles you to one ? " " I don't remember." "Nor I either. So let us to business. Here, take this chair beside me. Do you know how much you are worth ? " " Not precisely, sir," she answered demurely, taking the chair and folding her hands pensively in her lap ; " but very little, I presume, since yos have given me away for nothing." U ELSIE'S WOMANHOOD. " By no means," tie said, with a slight smile of amusement at her unwonted mood. " It was for your own happiness, which is no trifle in my esteem. But you belong to me still." She looked at him with glistening eyes. " Thank you, dearest papa ; yes, I do belong to you and always shall. Please excuse my wilful misunderstanding of your query. I do not know how much money and other property I own, but nave an idea it is a million more or less." " My dear child ! — it is fully three times that." "Papa! is it indeed?" " Yes, it was about a million at the time of your Grandfather Grayson's death, and has in- creased very much during your mamma's minority and yours ; which you know has been a very long one. You own several stores and a dwelling house in New Orleans, a fine plantation with between two and three hundred negroes, and I have invested largely for you in stocks of various kinds both in your own country and in England. I wish you to examine all the papers, certificates of stock, bonds, deeds, mortgages, and so forth." " Oh, papa ! " she cried, lifting her hands in dismay, " what a task. Please excuse me. You know all about it, and is not that sufficient ? " " No, the property is yours ; I have been only your steward, and must now render up an account to you for the way in which I have handled your property." SUSIE'S WOMANHOOD. 25 ** You render an account to me, my own dear father," she said low and tremulously, while her face flushed crimson ; "I cannot bear to hear you speak so. 1 am fully satisfied, and very, very thankful for all your kind care of it and of me." He regarded her with a smile of mingled tenderness and amusement, while softly patting and stroking the small white hand laid lovingly upon his. " Could I — could any father — do less for his own beloved child ? " he asked. " Not you, I know, papa, But may I ask you a question ? " " As many as you like." " How much are you worth ? Ah ! you needn't look so quizzical. I mean how much do you own in money, land, etc." " Something less than a million ; I cannot tell you tne exact number of dollars and cents." " Hardly a third as much as I ! It doesn't seem right. Papa, take half of mine." " That wouldn't balance the scales either," he said laughingly ; " and besides, Mr. Trayiila has now some right to be consulted." " Papa, I could never love him again, if he should object to my giving you all but a few hundred thousands." " He would not. He says he will never touch a cent of your property ; it must be settled entirely upon yourself, and subject to your 2 86 ELSIES WOMANHOOD. control. And that is quite right ; for he, too, is wealthy." "Papa, I don't think I deserve bo much; I don't want the care of so much. I do wish yon would be so good as to take half for your own, and continue to manage the other half for me as you think best." " What you deserve is not; the question just now. This is one of the talents which G-od has given you, and I think you ought, at least for the present, to keep the principal and decide for yourself what shall be done with the interest. You are old enough now to do so, and I hope do not wish to shirk the responsibility, sinew iiod, in his good providence, has laid it upon you," He spoke very gravely and Elsie's face re- flected the expression of his. " No, I do not wish it now, papa," she said, in a low, sweet voice. " I will undertake it, ask- ing Him for wisdom and grace to do it aright" They were busy for the next hour or two over the papers. "There I" cried Elsie, at length, "we havo examined the last one, and I think I understand it all pretty thoroughly." " I think you do. And now another thing ; ought you not to go and see for yourself your property in Louisiana ? " Elsie assented, on condition that he would take her. ELSIE'S WOMANHOOD. %? " Certainly, my dear child, can you suppose 1 would ever think of permitting you to go alone ? " "Thank you, papa. And if poor mammy objecte this time, she may take her choice of going or staying ; but go I must, and see how my poor people are faring at Viamede. I have dim, dreamy recollections of it as a kind of earthly paradise. Papa, do you know why mammy has always been so distressed whenever I talked o! going there ? " " Painful associations, no doubt Poor crea- ture ! it was there her husband — an unruly negro belonging to a neighboring planter — was sold away from her, and there she lost her children, one by accidental drowning, the others by some epidemic disease. Your own mother, too, died there, and Chloe I think never loved on© of her own children better." " No, I'm sure not. But she never told me of her husband and children, and I thought she had never had any. And now, papa, that we are done with business for the present, I have a request to make." " Well, daughter, what is it?" "That you will permit me to renew my old intimacy with Lucy Carrington ; or at least to call on her. You remember she was not well enough to be at the wedding ; she is here at Ashlands with her baby. Mr. and Mrs. Carring- 28 ELSIE'S WOMANHOOD. ton called here yesterday while yon were out, and both urged me not to be ceremonious with Lucy, as she is hardly well enough to make calls and is longing to see me." "And what answer did you give them ?" he asked with some curiosity. " That I should do so if possible ; that meant if I could obtain your permission, papa." " You have it. Lucy is in some sort taken into the family now, and you are safely engaged ; to say nothing of your mature years," he added laughingly, as she seated herself on his knee again and thanked him with a hug and kiss. " You dear good papa 1 " " Some girls of your age, heiresses in their own right, would merely have said, ( I'm going,' never asking permission." "Ah, but I like to be ruled by you. So please don't give it up. Now *ibout Enna ? " "If I had any authority in the matter, I should say, you shall not give her a cent. She doesn't deserve it from you or any one." "Then I shall wait till you change your mind." Mr. Dinsmore shook his head. " Ah ! my little girl, you don't realize how much some one else's opinions will soon weigh with you," he answered, putting an arm about her and looking with fatherly delight into the sweet face. ELSIE'S WOMANHOOD. %% " Ah, papa ! " she cried, laying her cheek to his, " please don't talk so ; it hurts me." " Then, dearest, I shall not say it again . though indeed I was not reproaching you ; it is right, very right, that husband and wife should be more than all the world beside to each other." Elsie's cheek crimsoned " It has not come to that yet, father dear," she murmured, half averting her blushing face; " and — I don't know which of you I love best — or how I could eyer do without either : the love differs in kind rather than in degree." He drew her closer. " Thank you, my dar- ling ; what more could I ask or desire ? " A slight tap on the door and Mrs. Dinsmore looked in. "Any admittance?" she asked playfully. " Always to my wife," answered her husband, releasing Elsie and rising to hand Rose a chair. " Thanks, my dear, but I havn't time to sit down," she said. "Here is a note of invitation for ub all to spend the day at Rowlands. Shall we go ?" " Certainly, if it suits you, Rose," replied Mr. Dinsmore ; " and Elsie ;" he added, " will you go, daughter ?" " If you wish it, papa," she answered cheer- fully; yet there was a slight reluctance in hei tone. He gave her a kind, fond look. " You are 40 ELBIE'8 WOMANHOOD. your own mistress, and con accept or decline m your judgment and wishes dictate. " " But you would rather have me go, papa ?" " I would, because it would seem more kind and courteous. But what is the objection in jour mind ? Perhaps it could be removed." " I wanted so much to see Lucy this morn- ing," Elsie answered with a blush ; " but to-mor- row will do." " But both might be accomplished if mamma and Adelaide like to have Caesar drive them and the little ones over to Roselands. Then you and I will mount our horses and away to Ash- lands for a call, leaving there in good time to join the dinner party at Roselands. How will that do?" " Oh, bravely, you dear darling papa ! always contriving for my enjoyment." Mr. Dinsmore followed his wife from the room. " 'Twill be an early return of Carrington's call," he said, " but I have a little business with him?" " Yes, I'm very glad : it is a good plan ; but don't hurry Elsie away. She and Lacy will want a long talk." " I promise to be careful to obey orders, * he answered, sportively. " Is that all ? " " Yes ; only see that you don't stay too long, *nd keep the dinner waiting at Roselands." " Mamma," asked Elsie, bringing up the rear ELSIE'S WOMANHOOD. 31 as they entered the sitting-room, " can't you go, too — you and Aunt Adelaide ? Four make ag nice a party as two, and the babies can be driven over quite safely, with their mammies, to take care of them." " No," said Rose, " I never accept such late invitations ; I shall — " " My dear," said her husband, "we would be very glad," " No, no ; the first arrangement is decidedly the best ; " putting on an air of pretended pique. " Babies ! do you call me a baby ? " cried young Horace, who had sprung to his feet with a flash of indignation in his great black eyes , "I'm nine years old, Elsie. Rosie there's the only baby belonging to this house. Do you think papa would let a baby have a pony like Gip ? and a pistol of his own, too ? " Elsie put her arms round his neck, and gave him a kiss, " I beg ten thousand pardons." " Elsie, my daughter, don't allow yourself to speak so extravagantly," interrupted her father. "I will try not, papa," she answered. "I beg your pardon, Horace dear, and assure you I tiiink you are quite a manly young man. Now I must prepare for my ride, papa. I shall be ready by the time the horses can be brought to the door." " Papa," said Horace, as the door closed upon ferfj sister, " may I ride Gip to-day ? " 9» JSLSUS'd WOMANHOOD. " If you promise me to keep close bead© th$ carriage." " Oh, papa, can't I ride on ahead a little, now and then, or fall a few paces behind if I wish ? ° " No ; yon may do just what I have gi7es pennifision for, and nothing else." CJapte jfrarijj. "Sraca was In all lier steps, hearen in her sys, la ST'rr gesture, dignity and lore," —Miltob's Paba^isb Loss, "But, Elsie, what of Mr. Travail a ?" asked her father, as he handed her into the saddle. " He will not be here till evening, sir," ehc answered, the rose on her cheek deepening slightly. " Then I can have undisturbed possession for to-day at least," replied Mr. Dinsmore, mount- ing. " We couldn't have a loTelie? day for a ride." " Nor better company," added Elsie, archly, keeping her horse's head on a line with that of her father's larger steed, as they followed the winding carriage road at a brisk canter. " Why, you conceited little puss ? " returned Mr. Dinsmore laughing. Elsie blushed more deeply this time. " Why, papa, you are the company to-day, are you not f I wished to go, and you kindly arranged to ac- company me." 2* S4 ELBIE'8 WOMANHOOD. " Ah ! and that is how you look at it ? Well* I recall my rebuke, and thank you for your — what shall I say — pretty compliment, or appreciation of my society ? " et Both, if you like. Oh, how nice it is to be. at home again in our own dear native land." " And what do you call your own dear native land?" " What a strange question, papa ! The great, grand old Union to be sure — North and South, East and West — is it not all mine ? Have you not taught ms so yourself ? " " Yes," he said musingly. They rode on in silence for some minutes, and when he spoke again, it was upon a subject entirely foreign to the last " The place looks natural," he remarked, as they turned into the avenue leading to the fine old dwelling of the Carringtons. " How kind, how very kind, to come so Boon ! " was Mrs. Oarrington's cordial, joyful salutation. " Mr. Dinsmore, I owe you a thou- sand thanks for not only permitting your daugh- ter to come, but bringing her yourself." "You are very welcome, my dear madam," he answered courteously ; " and, indeed, I should like to see Mrs, Rose myself, when she is well enough and feels that it will be agreeable to her," A few moments' chat ia the drawing-room, BLSIE'8 WOMANHOOD. 35 tnd Mf. Dinsmore drew out his watch, " How long a talk do yon want with your friend to-day, Elsie ? " he asked. " Oh, jnst as long as I can be allowed^ papa ! " she cried, with mnch of the old childish eagerness, "Then the sooner you begin, the better, I think, for we onght to be on our way to Rose- lands in an hour, or an hour and a quarter at the farthest." Upon thai ilie gentlemen retired to the library to talk over business matters, and Mrs. Carring- ton led the way for Elsie to Lucy's room. But pausing in the upper hall, she took the young girl in her arms, folding her in a close, loving embrace, and heaping upon her tearful, tender, silent caresses. " My poor boy ! my poor dear Herbert, " she murmured at length, as she released her hold. "Darling, I can neyer forget that you might have been my daughter. But there — I will leave you. Lucy occupies her old rooms, and yonder is her door ; you know the way." "But come in with me, dear Mrs. Carring- tou," urged Elsie, the tear3 shining in her eyes, " No, dear, not just yet Lucy would prefer tc see you quite alone at first, I know." And she glided away in the opposite direction, A soft, cooing sound came to Elsic'i ear 5 mingled with fondling words, in a negro voioe. 36 ELSIE'S WOMANHOOD. as she stood an Instant waiting admittance. Lucy, a good deal paler and thinner than the Lucy of old, lay back in an easy chair, languidly turning the leaves of a new magazine. "Open the door, mammy," she said, "I thought I heard a rap." Then at sight of Elsie, the magazine was hastily tossed aside, and with a cry of joy, " Oh, you darling ! I thought I'd never see you again," she sprang forward, caught her friend in a close embrace, and wept upon her neck. Elsie soothed her with caresses and words of endearment, and presently =he calmed down, made her friend take a seat, and sinking back into her own, wiped away the tears still welling up in her eyes, and with a little hysterical laugh, said, " Please don't look so concerned, or think I'm unhappy with my dear old Phil, or going to die, or any such nonsense : it's just my nerves ; hateful, torturing things ! I wish I'd never found out I had any." " You poor dear, I'm so sorry for your lost health," said Elsie, exchanging her chair for a low ottoman at Lucy's feet, and taking the small thin hands in hers, stroking and patting them caressingly ; " I know nerves won't be reasoned with, and that tears are often a great relief." " And I've everything to make me happy," sobbed Lucy — " the best husband in the world, and the darlingest of babies, to say nothing of BLBIE'B WOMANHOOD. 37 mamma and papa, and the rest, and really almost everything one could desire." " Oh, the baby, yes 1 " cried Elsie, turning toward it with eager interest ; "the sweet protty darling. May I take him a moment, Lucy ? " " Certainly, if he's not too heavy — bring him here, mammy. I remember your father would not allow you to lift or carry b'ttle Horace," "Ah, but that was years ago ! Ah, how lovely he is ! " as the babe accepted her mute invitation to come to her. "You aie rich indeed, with this treasure added to all your others. And you and your Phil don't quarrel yet?" "No indeed! not the first cross word yet. Mamma calls us her turtle-doves : says we're always billing and cooing. Ah, Elsie, how beautiful you are ! I've always thought you just as lovely as possible, yet there's an added some- thing — I can't divine what— that increases even your peerless attractions." "0 Lucy, Lucy, still a flatterer!" laughed her friend. " Yet you've come back to us single," Lucy went on, ignoring the interruption, " though we all know you had ever so many good offers. Pray, do you intend to remain single all your days ? " At that, Elsie's face dimpled all over witk blushes and smiles. S8 fiLSlE'S WOMANHOOD. Luoy signed to *te nurse to take the bab©| and as the woman walked away with it in her arms, turned eagerly to her friend. " Now do tell me ; for I'm sure you are not going to live single. Shall we have the pleasure of hailing you as duchess yet ? " " No, Lucy ; I intend to marry ; am actually engaged, but not to a foreigner. " " Dear me I I don't believe I could have resisted the title. That is," she added, hastily, " if Fd been heart-whole like you : but after seeing my Phil, of course I wouldn't give him up for all the nobles in Europe, Asia, and Africa. But do tell me who is the fortunate man ? " "Suppose you try your skill at guessing." " Perfectly useless, never had any. It must be somebody I don't know." " My good little woman, you know him well/ "Either of Harry's brothers-in-law ? Rich- ard ? Harold?" " No, no, no ; you are wide of the mark ! Oould you suppose papa would ever consent to such a mixture of relationships ? Why, it would make papa my brother and mamma's brother her son-in-law." u So it would. Well, I give it up and beg of you to put a speedy end to my suspense." Lucy bent her head to listen, and Elaie mur- mured the name low and softly, the rose deepen- ing on her cheek as she spoke. For a moment ELSIE'S WOMANHOOD. 30 Lucy seemed struck dumb with astonishment, Then, " Elsie ! " she exclaimed, " I can't believ© it; you are only jesting." Elsie shook her head with a low, musical, happy laugh. " He's splendid, I don't deny that ; but then — only think — your father's most intimate friend from boyhood up ; and almost as old." "Some people seem like wine — to improve with age. But Mr. Travilla is not old to me now. He has been standing still, I believe, while I have grown up to him." " And you really are in love with him ?" " He has all my heart, all the love I could give to any one, and I respect, honor, and trust him as I do no one else but my father." " And that reminds me ; I was so afraid your father would not let you come to see me. But — you are your own mistress now, of course. " " Papa tells me so sometimes," laughed Elsie, " and yet I know he would be greatly surprised should I take the liberty of doing anything he would not approve. I asked his permission to come, and he not only % ave consent but brought me himself." •'That was good in him; but I hope he wont hurry you away. I want to hear about your European conquests, and have ever so much to say besides." " No, he has kindly promised me time for 3 40 ELSIE'S WOMANHOOD. long talk. Besides, I can ride over any day and supplement it with another." if r. Dinsmore was as good as his word ; their shat, had lasted more than an hour when ni* summons came, yet Lucy declared it had not been half long enough, and would not be satis- fied to let Elsie go without a promise to come again very soon. " Roselands, too, looks very natural, and very homelike," remarked Mr. Dinsmore, as they rode up its avenue. " Yes, papa ; and yet, do you know, it seems to me it has grown smaller and less grand since I lived here as a child." " Ah ! did you think it very grand then daughter ? " he asked, turning to her with a smile. "I believe so, papa; but it is beautiful yet, even after all the fine places we nave Eeen in out own country and Europe." Adelaide met them at the door. " Just in time," she said, "for there is the diessing-belL Your own old room, Elsie dear : you know the way and will find Aunt Chloe in waiting. Horace, you will make yourself at home of course." It was strictly a family party, sociable and informal. Elsie had not met Arthur since their return, and at the first moment scarcely recog« nized him in the moustached and bewhiskered foung man who rose and came forward, with I £L8IE'S WOMANHOOD. 41 slight limp, to meet her as she entered the draw- ing room. "How do yon do ?" he said, holding out his right hand, while steadying himself with a cane held in the left " I hope you're glad to get back to America ? " " Arthur, is it ? Yes ; thank you : and I'm very glad your injuries haT8 proved less serious than was at first feared " she said, kindly meet- ing his advances half-way. " Oh yes," he replied, with attempted non- chalance. " I shall be all right by and by." Then retreating to the seat from which he had just risen, the corner of a sofa by the side of his sister Adelaide, his eye following Elsie as she crossed the room to pay her respects to her grand- father and others. "What on earth you call that girl little for, I can't imagine," he remarked in an undertone ; fi why she's quite above the average height ; graceful as a young fawn, too ; splendid figure, and actually the most beautiful face I ever saw. I don't wonder she turned the heads of lords and dukes on the other side of the water. But what do you call her little for ? " " I hardly know, Art ; with me if s a term of endearment more than anything else, I believe," replied his sister ; " but there is something in the expression of her face — something that has always oeen there, a sweet simplicity and innocence— that moves one to a sort of protecting love as tt *8 ELSIE'S WOMANHOOD. a little one who has not yet attained sufficient worldly wisdom to take care of l^rsell" Old Mr. Dinsmore greeted his lovely grand- daughter almost affectionately, holding her hand in his for a moment, and looking from her to her father. " Really, she's a girl to be proud of, Horace," he said with a paternal smile. "Bat Pve no need to tell you that." "No, she is not bad looking," observed his wife with a slight sneer ; " few girls would be in such elegant attire ; but it surprises me to see that, with all her advantages and opportunities for improvement, she has not yet lost that baby expression she alwaye had. She'll never be half the woman Enna is." The days were past in which the lady mother had gloried in the fact that anywhere Enna would have been taken for the elder of the two ; and now the contrast between her faded, fretful face and Elsie's fresh bloom was a sore trial to madam's love, and pride in her household pet But no one deemed it necessary to reply to the unpleasant remark. Elsie only smiled up into her father's face as he came forward and stood at her side, and meeting his look of loving content and pride in her, just as she was, and calling to mind how fully satisfied with her was another, whose loving approbation was no leas precious, turned away with a half-breathed iigh of heart-felt happiness, finished her greet- SL8JJS l 8 W0MA2TH00D. 4B ingg, and, the dinner-bell ringing at that mo- ment, accepted "Walter's offered arm to the din- ing-room. Arthur was more and more charmed with his niece as he noted the modest ease and grace of her manners, both at the table, and afterward in the drawing-room ; listened to her music — greatly improved under the instructions of some of the first masters of Europe — and her conversation with his father and others, in which she almost unconsciously revealed rioh stores of varied in- formation gathered from books, the discourse of the wise and learned met in her travels, and her own keen yet kindly observations of men and things. These, with the elegance of her dic- tion, and the ready play of wit and fancy, made her a fascinating talker. Contrary to Elsie's expectations, it was decided by the elders of the party that all should remain to tea. As the others returned to the drawing-room on leaving the table, she stole out upon the moonlighted veranda. Gazing wistfully down the avenue, was she thinking of one probably even then on his way to the Oaks — thinking of him and his disappointment at not finding her there? " Ifg a nice night, this," remarked Arthur*! voice at her side, " I say, Elsie, suppose we bury the hatchet, you and I " 14 JSLSIE'S WOMANHOOD. * I never had any enmity toward yon, A rthar,* she answered, still gazing straight before her. " Well, it's odd if you hadn't ; I gave yoi* cauBe enough, as you did me by your niggardb refusal to lend me a small sum, on occasions when I was hard up. But I'm willing to let by-gones be by-gones, if you are." " Certainly ; I should be glad to forget ali that has been unpleasant in the past" "You have improved wonderfully since I saw you last : you were a pretty girl then, but now you are without exception the most superbly beautiful, graceful, accomplished, and intelligent woman I ever saw." " I do not like flattery, Arthur," she answered* turning coldly away. " Pooh ! the truth's never flattery ; I de- clare if we were not so nearly related, I'd marry you myself." " You forget," she said, half scornfully, '* that it takes two to make a bargain ; three in this case ; and two of us would never con- sent." " Nonsense ! I'd soon manage it by eleven courting. A man can always get the woman he ▼ants if he's only sufficiently determined." "In that you are sadly mistaken. But why broach so disagreeable a subject, since we are so nearly related that the very thought seems almost a sin and a crime r " EL81E 8 WOMANHOOD 45 " And so you're going to th/ow yourself awa| onoidTravilla?" Elsie faced him with flashing eyes. " No ; it ^ill be no throwing away of myself, nor will 1 allow him to be spoken of in snch disrespectful terms, in my presence," "Humph!" laughed Arthur. "Well, I've found out how to make you angry, at all events. And Pm free to confess 1 don't like Travilla, or forgive him all old scores." Elsie scarcely seemed to hear. A horse was coming at a quiet canter up the avenue. Both the steed and his rider wore a familiar aspect, and the young girl's heart gave a joyous bound as the latter dismounted, throwing the reins to a servant, and came up the steps into the veranda. She glided toward him ; there was an earnest, tender clasping of hands, a word or two of cor- dial greeting, and they passed into the house and entered the drawing-room. " Humph ! not much sentiment there ; ac* toward each other pretty much as they always have," said Arthur to himself, taking a cigar from his pocket and lighting it with a mat./h, u I wonder now what's the attraction to her foi an old codger like that," he added, watching the smoke as it curled lazily up from the end of hm Havana. There was indeed nothing sentimental in the conduct of Mr. Travilla or Elsie : deep, trua, 46 ELSIE'S WOMANHOOD. heartfelt happiness there was on both sides, but calm and quiet, indulging in little demonstration, except when they were quite alone with each other. There was no secret made of the engage mcnt, and it was soon known to all their friends and acquaintance. Mr. Tra villa had always been in the habit of visiting the Oaks daily, and find- ing himself very much at home there ; and he continued to come and go as formerly, all wel- coming him with great cordiality, making him, if possible, more cue of themselves than ever, while there was little change in Elsie's manner, except that all her late reserve had fled, and given place to the old ease and freedom, the sweet, affection- ate confidences of earlier days. Mr. Dinsmore's determination to delay the marriage for a year was decidedly a keen disap- pointment to the middle-aged lover, who had already endured so long and patient a waiting for his prize ; yet so thankful and joyous was he that he had at last won her for his own, that, finding remonstrance and entreaties alike unavail- ing, he presently accepted the conditions with a very good grace, comforting himself with the cer- tainty of the permanence of her love. Elsie had do coquettish arts, was simple-hearted, straight- forward, and true, as in her childhood, and their confidence in each other was unbounded. <%ter |i% " Joy never fea*ta so high Am when the &rst course is of eiiscry. " — SooixaM. Adelaide's marriage was fixed for Christ- mas eve, and Mr. Dinemore and Elsie decided tc take their trip to Louisiana at once, that they might be able to return in season for the wedding, at which Elsie was to be first bridesmaid. It was Elsie herself who broke the news of hei intended journey to her faithful old nurse, ex- plaining why she felt it her duty to go, and kindly leaving to Ghloe's own decision whether she would accompany her or not. The dusky face grew very sad for a moment, tears springing to the dark eyes ; but the voice waa almost cheerful as she answered. " Yes, you'g right, honey darlin', you's all right to go and see ^bout dem poor souls and let em see dere beaufu] young missus : and your ole mammy H go long too, for she neber could stay an let her chile run all dem risks on de boats an' cars an* she no dar to take care ob her." 48 ELSIE'S WOMANHOOD. " That's right, my own dear old mammj, I ghall be glad to have you along, and hope you will find it plea8anter than you expect ; but we must trust the Lord to take care of us all ; for ^8 only can prevent the accidents you fear." " Yes, yes, honey, dat's de truff ; an* well trust him an' not be 'fraid, 'cause don't ho say, 'Not a hair ob your head shall perish. '" " ' What time I am afraid I will trust in Thee,' " murmured Elsie, softly. " Ah, the joy, the peace, of knowing that his presence and his love will ever go with us everywhere ; and that he has all power in heaven and in earth." A week later, Mr. Dinsmore was showing his daughter the beauties of New Orleans, where they had arrived without accident or loss. They remained in the city long enough to attend thor- oughly to the business which had called them there, and to see everything worth looking at. Elsie's plantation was in the Teche country, the very loveliest part of grand old Louisiana. In order that suitable preparations might be made for their reception, word had been sent that they might be expected on a certain day. " We have allowed more time than necessary for this place," said Mr. Dinsmore to his dangh< fcer one evening on returning to their hotel, after seeing the last of the lions of the Orescent City ; " we have two days to spare ; what shall be don% in them ? " EZSIE'8 WOMANHOOD. 49 "Let us go on to Viame&e at once then, papa," replied Elsie, promptly. " I have beea regretting that we sent notice of onr coming. I donbt if it would not have been wiser to take them by surprise." " There would not be the same preparations for your comf ort } " replied her father, taking a seat by her on the sofa, for they were in their own private parlor ; " you may find unaired bed- linen and an empty larder, which, beside incon- veniencing yourself, would sorely mortify and trouble Annt Phillis and her right-hand woman, Sarah, the cook." " I should be sorry you should have an in- hospitable reception, papa, but fires are soon kindled and linen aired, and is not the pantry kept supplied with canned and preserved fruits t and are there not fresh fruits^ vegetables, chick- ens, and eggs at hand for immediate use ? " " Yes, certainly ; and we are not likely to suffer. We will, then, leave here to-morrow, if you wish, taking the steamer for Berwick Bay. But why prefer to come upon them unex- pectedly ?" Elsie smiled, and blushed slightly. "You know I never have any concealments from you, papa, and I will be frank about this," she said, " I don't think I am apt to be suspicious, and yet the thought has come to me several times within the last few daya, that the overseer hag 3 60 ELBIE'S WOMANHOOD. had every opportunity to abuse my poor peopls if he happens to be of a cruel disposition. And if he is ill-treating them I should like to catch H™ at, it/' she added, her eyes kindling, and the oolor deepening on her cheek. " And what would you do in that case ? ' her father asked, with a slight smile, drawing her close to him and touching his lips to the blooming cheek. " Dismiss him, I suppose, papa ; I don't know what else I could do to punish him or prevent further cruelties. I should not like to shoot him down," she added, laughingly ; " and I doubt if I should have strength to nog him." "Doubt?" laughed her father, "certainly you could not, single-handed ; unless his polite- ness should lead him to refrain from any effort to defend himself ; and I, it would seem, am not expected to have anything to do with the matter." A deeper blush than before now suffused Elsie's fair cheek. "Forgive me, dear papa," she said, laying her head on his shoulder, and fondly stroking his face with her pretty white hand. "Please consider yourself master there as truly as at the Oaks, and as you have been for years ; and understand that your daughter means to take no important step without your entire approval." "No, I do not go there as master, but as ELSIE'S WOMANHOOD. 51 join guest," he answered, half playfully, k&lf tenderly. "My guest? That seems pleasant indeed} papa ; and yet I want yon to be master toe Bat yon will at least advise me ? " "To the best of my ability, my little girl.* 5 " Thank yon, my dear kind father. I hays another reason for wishing to start to-morrow. I'm growing anxious and impatient to see my birth-place again : and," she added low and tenderly, "mamma's grave." " Yes, we will visit it together for the first time ; though I have stood there alone again and again, and her baby daughter used to be taken there frequently to scatter flowers over it and play beside it. Do you remember that ? " " Yes, sir, as an almost forgotten dream, as I do the house and grounds and some of the old servants who petted and humored me." While father and daughter conversed thus together in the parlor, a dusky figure sat at a window in the adjoining bedroom, gazing out npon the moonlighted streets and watching the passers-by. But her thoughts, too, were straying to Viamede ; fast-coming memories of earlier days, some all bright and joyous, others filled with the gloom and thick darkness of a terrible anguish, made her by turns long for and Iread the arrival at her journey's end. 52 XLSIE'B WOMANHOOD. A light touch on her shoulder, and she turned to find her young mistress at her side. " My poor old mammy, I bring you news you will be sorry to hear," said Elsie, seating herself upon the ample lap, and laying her arm across the broad shoulders. "Whatdat, honey?" " We start to-morrow for Viamede ; papa has sent John to engage our passage on the steamer." " Dat all, darlin' ? " queried Chloe, with a sigh of relief, " if we's got to go, mights well go quick an' hab it ober." " Well, I'm glad you take so sensible a view of it," remarked Elsie, relieved in her turn ; " and I hope you will find much less pain and more pleasure than you expect in going back to the old home." The next morning, as Mr. Dinsmore and his daughter sat upon the deck of the steamer, en- joying the sunlight, the breeze, and the dancing of the water, haying cleared their port and gotten fairly out into the gulf, a startling incident occurred. Chloe stood at a respectful distance, leaning over the side of the vessel, watching the play of the wheel and the rainbow in the spray that fell in showers at its every revolution. An old negro busied about the deck ; drew near and addressed ker EL81B'8 WOMANHOOD. 6d •'Well, auntie, yon watchin' dat ole wheel dar ? Fust time you trable on dis boat, eh ? " Chloe started at the sound of the yoice, turned suddenly round and faced the speaker, her fea- tures working with emotion : one moment cf earnest scrutiny on the part of both, and with a wild cry, " Aunt Chloe ! my ole woman," " Uncle Joe ! it can't be you," they rushed into each other's arms, and hung about each other's neck, weeping and sobbing like two children. " Papa ! what is it ? " exclaimed Elsie, greatly surprised at the little scene. " Her husband, no doubt : he's too old to be a son." " Oh, how glad, how glad lam!" and Elsie started to her feet, her eyes full of tears, and her sweet face sparkling all oyer with sympathetic joy. "Papa, I shall buy him ! they must never be parted again till death comes between." A little crowd had already gathered about the excited couple, every one on deck hurrying to the spot, eager to learn the cause of the tumult of joy and grief into which the two seemed to have been so suddenly thrown. Mr. Dinsmore rose, and giving his arm to Elsie, led her toward the throng, saying in answer to her last remark, "Better act through me, then, daughter, or you will probably be asked two or three prices." " papa, yes ; please attend to it for me — $4 ELBIE'8 WOMANHOOD. only — only I nmst have him, for dear old mma< my^s sake, at whatever cost" The crowd opened to the lady and gentleman as they drew neat " My poor old mammy, what is it ? whom have you found ? " asked Elsie. But Chloe was speechless with a joy so deep that it wore the aspect of an almost heart-break- ing sorrow. She could only cling with choking sobs to her husband's arm. " What's all this fuss, Uncle Joe ? " queried the captain. ' ' Let go the old darkie ; what's she to you ? " " My wife, sah, dat I ain't seed for twenty years, sah," replied the old man, trying to steady ni8 trembling tones, obeying the order, but mak ing no effort to shake off Chloe's clinging hold, " Leave him for a little now, mammy dear ; you shall never be parted again," whispered Elsie in her nurse's ear. "Come with me, and let papa talk to the captain." Chloe obeyed, silently following her young mistress to the other side cf the deck, but ever and anon turning her head to look back with wet eye3 at the old wrinkled black face and white beard that to her were so dear, so charming : His eyes were following her with a look of longing, yearning affection, and involuntarily he stretched out his arms toward her. " Off to your work, sir," ordered the captain. fJ and let's have no more of this nonsense." ELSIE'S WOMANHOOD. 55 Old Joe moved away with a patient sigh, " The woman is your property, I presume^ sir ? " the captain remarked in a respectful tone, addressing Mr. Dinsmore. " Yes, my daughter's, which amounts to the same thing," that gentleman replied in a tone of indifference ; then changing the subject, made some inquiries about the speed and safety of the boat, the length of her trips, etc. The captain answered pleasantly, showing pride in his vessel. Then they spoke of ©ther things : the country, the crops, the weather. " Sit down, mammy," said Elsie pityingly, as they reached the settee where she and her father had been sitting ; " you are trembling so you can scarcely stand." " darlin', datfs true 'nun*. Fse mos' ready to drop," she said tremulously, coming down heavily upon a trunk that stood close at hand. " Oh, de good Lord hab bring me face to face wid my ole. Uncle Joe ; oh, I neber Vpected to see him no more in dis wicked world. But deyTL take 'im off again an* dis ole heart ? 11 break," she added, with a bursting sob. "No, no, mammy, you shall have him, if money can accomplish it." " You buy 'im, darlin' ? Oh, your ole mammy o&n neber t'ank you 'nuff ! " and a low, happy laugh mingled with the choking sobs, 'But deyTl ask heaps ob money. * 66 ELSIE'S WOMANUOOD. "You shall have him, let the pi ice be what it will," was Elsie's assurance. "See papa is bargaining with the captain now, for they look at Uncle Joe as they talk." Chloe regarded them with eager interest ; yes, they were looking at Uncle Joe, and evidently speaking of him. " By the way," Mr. Dinsmore remarked carelessly, " does Uncle Joe belong to you ? or is he merely a hired hand ? " "He's my property, sir." " Would you like to sell ? " " I am not anxious ; he's a good hand, faith- ful and honest : quite a religious character in fact," he concluded with a sneer ; " overshoots the mark in prayin' and psalm-singing. But do you want to buy ? " " Well yes ; my daughter is fond of her old mammy, and for her sake would be willing to give a reasonable sum. What do you ask ? " " Make me an offer." "Five hundred dollars." " Five hundred ? ridiculous ! he's worth twice that" " I think not, he is old — not far from seventy and will soon be past work and only a burden and expense. My offer is a good one." " Make it seven hundred and I'll take it." Mr. Dinsmore considered a moment That is too high," he said at length, ' but for the ELSIE'S WOMANHOOD. 5? of making two poor creatures happy, I will give it* " Cash down ?" " Yes, a check on a New Orleans bank." " Please walk down into the cabin then, sir and well conclude the business at once." In a few moments Mr. Dinsmore returned to his daughter's side, and placing the receipted bill of sale in her hands, asked, ' i Have I given too much ? " " Oh, no, papa, no mdeed ! I should have given a thousand without a moment's hesitation, if asked it — five, ten thousand, if need be, rather than have them parted again," she exclaimed, the bright tears shining in her eyes. ' ' Mammy, my poor old mammy, Uncle Joe belongs to me now, and you can have him always with you as long as the Lord spares your lives." " Now bress de Lord S " cried the old woman devoutly, raising her streaming eyes and clasped hands to heaven ; " de good Lord dat hears de prayers ob his chilen's cryin' to him when dere hearts is oberwhelmed ! " " Go break the news to Uncle Joe, mammy," said Elsie ; " see, yonder he stands looking so 9feger and wistful." Chloe hurried to his side, spoke a few rapid morels ; there was another long, clinging, tearful embrace, and they hastened to their master and mistress to pour out their thanks and blessings 3* 58 ELSIE'S WOMANHOOD. upon them, mingled with praises and fervent thanksgivings to the Giver of all good. The joy and gratitude of the poor old couple ifere very sweet, very delightful to Elsie, and scarcely less so to lier father. " Mammy dear, I never saw you wear so happy a face," Elsie said, as Chloe returned to her aftei an hour or two spent in close conversation with her newly recovered spouse. "Ah, honey, your ole mammy tinks she neber so glad in all her life ? " cried the poor old creature, clasping her hands together in an ecstasy of joy and gratitude while the big tears shone in her eyes. " I'se got ole Uncle Joe back agin, an' he not de same, he bettah man, Christian man. He say, ' Aunt Chloe we uns trabble de same road now, honey : young Joe proud, angry, swearing drinkin' boy, your Ole Joe he lub de Lord an' try to sarve him wid all he might. And de Lord good Massa. De debbil berry bad one.'" " Dear mammy, I am very glad for you ; ] think nothing else could have made you sc happy." Chloe, weeping again for joy, went on to teD her young mistress that Uncle Joe had discovered ft grandchild in New Orleans, Dinah by name, waiting-maid in a wealthy family. " But how is that, mammy ? Papa and I thought all your children died young." u ~No, darlin', when Massa Griyson buy me is ELBIB'S WOMAJ$EQOI>. 19 New Orleans, air* de odder gentleman buy Uncle Joe, we nab little girl four years ole, an de ole missus keep her," sobbed Ohloe, living oyer again the agony of the parting, " an' Dinah her chile." " Mammy, if money will buy her, yon shall have her, too," said Elsie earnestly. The remainder of the short voyage was a happy time to the whole of our little party, Ohloe, with her restored husband by her side, now look- ing forward to the visit to Yiamede with almost onmingled pleasure. As they passed up the bay, entered Teche Bayou and pressed on, threading their way through lake and lakelet, past plain and forest, plantation and swamp, Elsie exclaimed again and again at the beauty of the scenery. Cool shady dells carpeted with a rich growth of flow- ers, miles upon miles of lawns as smoothly shaven, as velvety green and as nobly shaded by magnifi- cent oaks and magnolias, as any king's demesne ; lordly villas peering through groves of orange trees, tall white sugar-houses and the long rows of cabins of the laborers ; united to form a pano- rama of surpassing loveliness, " Is Viamede as lovely as that, papa ? " Elsie would ask, as they steamed past one fine resi- dence after another. " Quite," he would reply with a smile, at length adding, " There is not a more beautiful 80 ELSIE'S WOMANHOOD. or valuable estate in the country ; as you m&^ judge for yourself, for this is it." " This, papa ? Oh it is lovely, lovely * and everything in such perfect order," she cried delightedly as they swept on past a large sugar- house and an immense orange orchard, whose golden fruit and glossy leaves shone brightly in the slanting rays of the nearly setting sun, to a lawn as large, as thickly carpeted with smoothly shaven gra33 and many-hued flowers, and as finely shaded with giant oaks, graceful magnolias, and groves of orange trees, as any they had passed. The house — a grand old mansion with spacious rooms, wide cool halls and corri- dors — was now in full view, now half concealed by the trees and shrubbery. The boat rounded to at a little pier opposite the dwelling, and in another moment our friends had landed, and leaving the servants to attend to the baggage were walking on toward the house, Cljapftr Sfirijj. ■ Wilt tho* dia 1 ^ near the nature of the fods T Draw near them then in being merciful, Sweet mercy is nobility's true badge." — SHAKSSP3A-K&. •• Papa, it seems an earthly paradise," said Elide, "and like a dream that I have seen ail oefore." " A dream that was a reality. And it is all your own, my darling," he answered with a prond, fond look into the bright animated face, keenly enjoying her pleasure. "But what, what is going on there ?" she asked, gazing intently in the direction of the negro quarter, where a large crowd of them, probably ail belonging to the plantation, were assembled. At that instant something rose in the air and lescended again, and a wild shriek, a woman's wail of agony, rent the air. Elsie flew oyer the ground as though she had betm a winged creature, her father haying to exert himself to keep pace with her. But the whip had descended again and again, anothef 62 EL8IE'8 WOMAMEOOD. and another of those wild shrieks, testifying to the sharpness of its 6ting, ere they were near enough to interfere. So taken up with the excitement of the revolt- ing scene were all present, that the landing and the approach of our friends had not been observed until Elsie, nearing the edge of the crowd, called out in a voice of authority, and indignation, " Stop ! not another blow ! " The crowd parted, showing a middle-aged negress stripped to the waist and tied to a whip- ping post, writhing and sobbing with pain and terror, while a white man stood oyer her with a horse-whip in his uplifted hand, stayed in mid- air by the sudden appearance of those in author- ity over him. " How dare you ! how dare you ! " cried Elsie, stamping her foot, and drawing a long, sobbing breath. " Take her down this instant" " Mr. Spriggs, what ia the meaning of this ? " asked Mr. Dinsmore, in tones of calm displeas- ure ; " did I not forbid all cruel punishment on this estate ? " "Fve got to make 'em work; I'm bound chey shall, and nothing but the whip '11 do it with this lazy wretch," muttered Spriggs, drop- ping his whip and stepping back a little, while two stalwart fellows obeyed Elsie'B order to take foe woman down, a murmur at the same time ELSIE'S WOMANHOOD. 63 running from lip to lip, " It's Marse Dinsmore, and our young missus. " Elsie shuddered and wept at sight of the bleeding back and shoulders. " Cover her up quickly, and take her away where she can lie down and rest," she said to the women who were crowding round to greet and welcome herself " I will speak to you all afterward, I'm glad tfc be here among you." Then leaning over the sufferer for an instant, with fast-dropping tears " Be comforted," she said, in tones of gentle com- passion, "you shall never have this to endure again. " " Come, daughter, speak to these eager people, and let us go into the house," said Mr. Dinsmore. " Yes, papa, in one moment." Drawing herself up to her full height, and flashing one look of scorn and indignation out of her dark eyes upon the crest-fallen Spriggs, she addressed him with the air of a queen. " You, sir, will meet me in the library at eight o'clock this evening." Turning to the men, " Dig up that post, and split it into kindling wood for the kitchen fire." Her father, while shaking hands with the blacks, speaking a kindly word to each, regarded her with mingled curiosity and admiration ; thoi> oughly acquainted with his child as he had be- lieved himself to be, he now saw her in a ne-w character. S4 ELSIE'S WOMANHOOD. She took his arin, and he felt that she wa* trembling very much. He supported her ten- derly, while the women flocked about them, eagerly welcoming her to Viamede ; kissing her hand, and declaring with tears in their eyes, that it was just their " dear dead young missus come back to them, like a beautiful white angeL" The first who claimed her attention, intro- duced herself as " Aunt Phillis de housekeepah. An' Fse got eberyting ready for you, honey ; ie beds is aired, de fires laid in de drawin'-room, an' library, an' sleepin' rooms, an' de pantry fuD ob the nicest tings dis chile an' ole Aunt Sally know how to cook ; an' I sent Jack right to d© house to start de fires de fust minute dese ole eyes catch sight ob massa an' young missus, an' knows dey heyah." " My dear child, all tills is quite too much for you," said Mr. Dinsmore, attempting to draw his daughter away. "Just a moment, papa, please," she an- swered in a slightly unsteady voice ; "let me speak to them all." He yielded, but cut short fche garrulity of some who would have liked to mingle reminiscences of her babyhood with their rejoicing over her return, telling them they must reserve such communication for a more suitable time, as their young mistress was faint and weary, and must have rest. The appearance of Chloe and her recovered ELSIE'S WOMANHOOD. 65 husband upon the scene, now created a diversion in their favor, and he presently succeeded in lead- ing Elsie to the house. A young mulatto girl followed them into the irawing-rooni, where a bright wood fire was blazing on the hearth, asking if she should take Miss Elsie's things. "Yes," Mr. Dinsmore said, removing his daughter's hat and shawl, and handing them to her. She left the room ; and taking Elsie in his arms, and gently laying her head upon his breast, " Let the tears have their way, darling," he said, "it will do you good." For several minutes the tears came in Hoods. "Oh, papa," she sobbed, "to think that my people, my poor people, should be so served. It must never, never be again ! " " No," he said, " we will find means to pre- vent it. There, you feel better now, do you not ? " " Yes, sir. Papa dear, welcome, welcome to my house ; the dearest guest that could come into it." And wiping away her tears, she lifted her loving eyes to his, a tender smile playing about the sweet lips. " Save one," he answered half -playfully, pass- ing his hand caressingly over her hair, and bend- ing down to press his lips on brow, and cheeks, and mouth. " Is not that so ? " " No, my own dear father, save none," with 66 ELSIE'S WOMANHOOD. a charming blush, but eyes looking steadily into his ; " when he comes, it shall be as master, not guest. But now tell me, please, what ^an I do Tith this Spriggs ? I should like to pay him a month's wages in advance, and start him oh* early to-morrow morning." Mr. Dinsmore shook his head gravely. " It would not do, my child. The sugar-making season will shortly begin ; he understands the business thoroughly ; we could not supply his place at a moment's notice, or probably in a num- ber of months, and the whole crop would be lost. We must not be hasty or rash, but remember the Bible command, ' Let your moderation be known unto all men.' Nor should we allow our- selves to judge the man too hardly." " Too hardly, papa ! too hardly, when he has shown himself so cruel ! But I beg pardon for interrupting you." "Yes, too hardly, daughter. He is a New Englander, used to see every one about him work- ing with steady, persevering industry, and the indolent, dawdling ways of the blacks, which we take as a matter of course, are exceedingly trying to him. I think he has been very faitlif ul to your interests, and that probably his desire and deter- mination to see them advanced to the utmost, led, more than anything else, to the act which seems to us so cruel." "And could he suppose that I would h*y« ELSIE'S WOMANHOOD. 67 olood wrung from my poor people that a fe^r more dollars might find their way into my purse? " she cried in indignant sorrow and anger. e ' Oh, papa, I am not so cruel, you know I am not" " Yes, my darling, I know you have a very tender, loving heart." " But what shall I do with Spriggs ? " For to-night, express your sentiments and feelings on the subject as calmly and moderately as you can, and enjoin it upon him to act in ac- cordance with them. Then we may consider at our leisure what further measures can be taken." " Papa, you are so much wiser and better than I," she said, with loving admiration. "I'm afraid if you had not been here to advise me, I should have sent him away at once, with never a thought of crops or anything except securing my people from his cruelties." " You should never allow yourself to act from mere impulse, except it be unquestionably a right one, and the case admitting of no time for de- liberation. As to my superior wisdom," lie added with a smile, "I have lived some years longer than you, and had more experience in the management of business matters. " I am very sorry, my darling, that the pleas- ure of your return to the home of your infancy should be so marred. But you have scarcely taken a look yet at even this room. What do you think of it ? " 88 ELSIE'S WOMANHOOD. She glanced about her with freshly aroused curiosity and interest. " Papa, it is just to my taste!" The firelight gleamed ipon rare old cabinets, gems of art in painting and statuary, and rich, massive, well-preserved, though old-fashioned sofas, chairs, tables, etc. Bu + it was arready growing dark, deep shadows were gathering in the more distant parts of the spacious apartment, and only near the fire could objects be distinctly seen. Elsie was about to ring for lights, when Sarah, the mulatto girl, appeared, bringing thenx, Chloe following close in the rear. " Have you fires and lights in the library, the dining-room, and your master's rooms and mine ? " inquired Elsie. " I)e fires is lit, Miss Elsie." "Then add the lights at once, and put them in all the principal rooms of the house. We will have an illumination in honor of our arrival, papa," she said, in a sprightly tone, turning to him with one of her sweetest smiles, " and besides, I want to see the whole house now." " Are you not too much fatigued, daughter ? and would it not be better to defer it till to-mor- row?" " I don't think I'm too tired, papa ; but if yon forbid me — " " No, I don't forbid or even advise, if you are sure you feel equal to the exertion." EL81E'8 WOMANHOOD. 69 " Thank you, sir, I think I'll be better able to sleep if I've seen at least the most of it ; old memories are troubling me, and I want to see how far they are correct. You will go with me?" "Certainly," he said, giving her his arm. " But while the servants are obeying your order in regard to the lights, let us examine these paintings more attentively. They will repay close scrutiny, for some of them are by the first masters. Your Grandfather Grayson seems to have been a man of cultivated taste, as well as great business talent." " Yes, papa. What is it, mammy ?" "Does you want me, darlin' ?" "No, not now. Go and enjoy yourself with your husband and old friends." Chloe expressed her grateful thanks, and withdrew. Elsie found the paintings and statuary a study, and had scarcely finished her survey of the draw- ing-room and its treasures of art, when Aunt Phillis came to ask if they would have tea served up immediately. Elsie looked at her father. " Yes," he said ; " you will feel stronger after eating, and it is about our usual time." " Then let us have it, Aunt Phillis. How is that poor creature now ? " asked her young mistress. 70 ELB1E'8 WOMANHOOD. " Suse, honey ? oh, she'll do well 'nuff ; dou't do her no harm to take some ob de lazy blood out. Massa Spriggs not so terrible cross, Mis* Elsie ; but he bound de work git done, an' Suse she mighty powerful lazy, jes' set in de sun an' do numV from mornin' to night, ef nobody roun' to make her work." "Ah, that is very bad; we must try to reform her in some way. But perhaps she's not well." "Dunno, missus ; she's always 'plaining ob de misery in her back, an' misery in her head ; but don't ebery one hab a misery, some kind, most days ? an' go on workin' all de same. No, missus, Suse she powerful lazy ole nigga." With that Phillis retired, and shortly after, tea was announced as ready. Elsie played the part of hostess to perfection, presiding over the tea-urn with ease and grace, and pressing upon her father the numerous dain- ties with which the table was loaded. She seemed to have recovered her spirits, and as she Bat there gayly chatting — of the room, which pleased her as entirely as the other, and of her plans for usefulness and pleasure during her stay, he thought he had cever seen her look hap- pier or more beautiful. 1 What rooms have you prepared for yoai mistress, Aunt Phillis ? " asked Mr. Dinsmore, as they rose from the table. ELSIE'S WOMANHOOD 71 "De same whar she was born, massa, an arhar her dear bressed ma stay when she Lvin heyah." A slight shadow stole over Elsie's bright face, " That was right/' she said, low and softly. " I should prefer them to any others. But where are papa's rooms ? " " Jes' across de hall, Miss Elsie." " That is a good arrangement," said Mr. Dinsmore. " Now, daughter, I think we should repair to the library. It is near the hour you appointed for Mr. Spriggs." "Just a3 handsome, as tastefully, appropri- ately, and luxuriously furnished as the others, M was Elsie's comment on the library. " I seem to see the same hand everywhere." '-' Yes, and it is the same all over the house," replied her father. " The books here will delight you ; for a private library it is a very fine one, containing many hundred volumes, as you maj see at a glance ; standard works on history, and the arts and sciences, biographies, travels, work* of reference, the works of the best poets, novel ists, etc." " Ah, how we will enjoy them while here J But it seems a sad pity they should have lain on those shelves unused for so many years." " Not entirely, my child ; I have enjoyed them in my brief visits to the plantation, and have alwavs allowed the overseer free access to t% ELSIE'S WOMANHOOD. them, on the single condition that they should be handled with care, and each returned promptlj to its proper place when done with. But come, take this easy chair by this table ; here are some fine engravings I want you to look at." Elsie obeyed, but had scarcely seated herself when the door was thrown open and a servants voice announced, "Massa Spriggs, Massa Dins- more and Miss Elsie." Spriggs, a tall, broad-shouldered, powerfully, built man, with dark hair and beard and a small, keen black eye, came forward with a bold free air and a " Goodeven', miss, goodeven', sir ; " adding, as he helped himself to a seat without waiting for an invitation, " Well, here I am, and I s'pose you've somethin' to say or you wouldn't have appointed the meetin'." " Yes, Mr. Spriggs," said Elsie, folding her pretty hands in her lap and looking steadily and coldly into his brazen face, " I have this to say ; that I entirely disapprove of flogging, and will have none of it on the estate. I hope you under- stand me." " That's plain English and easy understood, Miss Dinsmore, and of course you have a right bo dictate in the matter ; but I tell you what, these darkies o' yours are a dreadful lazy set, specially that Suse ; and it's mighty hard for folks that's been used to seein' things done up spic and span and smart to put up with it" ELBIE'B WOMANHOOD. 73 " But some amount of patience with the nat- ural slowness of the negro is a necessary trait in the character of an overseer who wishes to remain in my employ." " Well, miss, I always calculate to do the very best I can by my employers, and when you come to look round the estate, I guess you'll find things in prime order ; but I couldn't ha' done it without lettin' the darkies know they'd got to toe the mark right straight." " They must attend to the work, of course, and if they won't do so willingly, must under compul- sion ; but there are milder measures than this brutal flogging. " " What do you prescribe, Miss Dinsmore ? " " Deprive them of some privilege, or lock them up on bread and water for a few days," Elsie answered ; then turned an appealing look upon her father, who had as yet played the part of a mere listener. " I have never allowed any flogging on my estate," he observed, addressing Spriggs, and I cannot think it at all necessary." There was a moment of silence, Sprigge sit- ting looking into the fire, a half-smile playing about his lip3 ; then turning to Elsie, " 1 thought, miss, you'd a mind this evening to dis- miss me on the spot," he remarked inquiringly. She flushed slightly, but replied wcL dignity, "If you will comply with my dixdQt.ons, arir- 74 ELSIE'S WOMANHOOD pledging yourself never again to be so cruel, I have no desire to dismiss you from my service." " All right then, miss. I promise, and shall still do the best I can for your interests ; but if they suffer because I'm forbidden to use the lash, please remember it's not my fault." " I am willing to take the risk," she answered, intimating with a motion of her hand that she considered the interne w at an end ; whereupon he rose and bowed himself out. " Now, papa, for our tour of inspection," she cried gayly, rising as she spoke, and ringing for a servant to carry the light. " But first please tell me if I was sufficiently moderate." "You did very well," he answered, smiling. " You take to the r61e of mistress much more naturally than I expected." " Yet it does seem very odd to me to be giv- ing orders while you sit by a mere looker-on. But, dear papa, please remember I am still your own child, and ready to submit to your author- ity, whenever you see fit to exert it." "I know it, my darling," he said, passing an arm about her waist, as they stood together in front of the fire, and gazing fondly down into the sweet fair face. Aunt Chloe answered the bell, bringing a lamp in her hand. " That is right, mammy," Elsie said, " Now lead the way oyer the house." ELSIE'S WOMANHOOD, 76 As they passed from room to room, and from o**e spacious hall or corridor t> another, Elsie ex- pressed her entire satisfaction with them and their appointments, and accorded to Annt Phillis the meed of praise due her careful housekeeping. " And here, my darling," Mr. Dinsmore said at length, leading the way through a beautiful boudoir and dressing-room into an equally ele- gant and attractive bed-room beyond, "they tell me you were born, and your beloved mother passed from earth to heaven. " " An' eberyting in de room stands jes* as dey did den, honey," said Aunt Chloe. And ap- proaching the bed, her eyes swimming in tears, and laying her hand upon the pillow, " jes' here my precious young missus lie, wid cheeks 'mos* as white as de linen, an' eyes so big an' bright, an' de lubly curls streamin' all roun', an' she say, weak an' low, ' Mammy, bring me my baby.' Den I put you in her arms, darlin', an' she kiss you all ober your tiny face, an' de tears an' sobs come fast while she say, ' Poor little baby ; no fader no mudder to lub her ! nobody but you, mammy ; take her an' bring her up to lub de dear Lord Jesus. ,,, Silent tears rolled down Elsie's cheeks as she looked and listened ; but her father drew her to his breast and kissed them away, his own. eyes brimming, his heart too full tor speech. Presently he led her back to the boudoir, and 76 ELSIE' 8 WOMANHOOD. showed her the portraits of her maternal grand parents, and one of her mother, taken at ten 01 twelve years of age. " What a lovely little girl she was," murmured Elsie, gazing lovingly upon it. " Very much like what her daughter was at the same age/' he answered. " But come, this, too, will interest you.''' And lifting the lid of a dainty work-basket, he pointed to a bit of em- broidery, in which the needle was still sticking, as though it had been laid down by the deft fingers but a few moments ago. Elsie caught it up and kissed it, thinking of the touch of those dear dead fingers, that seemed to linger over it yet. Cjragter StbnttJ. " She was the pride Of her familiar sphere, the daily joy Of all who on her gracefulness might gasa, And in the light and music of her way Have a companion's portion." — WiLms' Posas, Elsie had fallen asleep thinking of the dear mother whose wealth she inherited, and whose place she was now filling ; thinking of her aa supremely blest, in that glorious, happy land, where sin and sorrow are unknown. Thinking, too, of Him, through whose shed blood she had found admittance there. The same sweet thoughts were still in the loving daughter's mind, as she woke to find the morning sun shining brightly, a fire blazing cheerily on the hearth, and Aunt Chloe coming in with a silver waiter filled with oranges pre- pared for eating in the manner usual in the tropics. She had gathered them the night before., taken off the peel, leaving the thick white skin underneath except on the top of each, where 78 JSLSIE'8 WOMANHOOD. she cut it away from a spot about the size of a silver quarter of a dollar. She then placed them on a waiter, with the cut part uppermost, and set them where the dew would fall on them all night. Morning found them with the skin hard and leathery, but filled with delicious juice, which could be readily withdrawn from it At that sight, a sudi^n memory seemed to flash upon Elsie, and starting up in the bed, " Mammy ! " she cried, " didn't you do that yery thing when I was a child ? " "What, honey? bring de oranges in de mornin' ? " " Yes, I seem to remember your coming in at that door, with just such a waiterful." " Yes, darlin', de folks alius eats dem 'foah breakfast. Deys jes' lubly, Miss Elsie ; massa say so, lubly and delicious." And she brought the waiter to her bedside, holding it out for her young mistress to help herself. " Yes, mammy dear, they look very tempting, but I won't eat with unwashed hands and face," said Elsie gayly. "And so papa has stolen a march upon me and risen first ? " " Yes darlin', massa out on the veranda, but he say, 'Let your missus sleep long as she will.' " " My always kind and indulgent father ! Mammy, I'll take a bath ; and then while you arrange my hair, I'll try the oranges. Go now and ask papa when he will have his breakfast, ELSIE'S WOMANHOOD. 79 and tell Aunt Phillis to see that it is ready at the hour he names." Chloe obeyed, and an hour later Elsie met her father in the breakfast-room so glad, so gay, go bright, that his heart swelled with joy and pleas- ure in his child, and all fears that she had over- fatigued herself vanished from his mind. She was full of plans for the comfort and profit of her people, but all to be subject to his ap- proval. " Papa dear," she said as soon as their morning greetings had been exchanged, " I think of sending for a physician to examine Suse and tell us whether there is reason for her complaints. She must not be forced to work if she is really ill.' "I think it would be well," he replied. " There is an excellent physician living about three miles from here." Elsie was prompt in action by both nature and training, and instantly summoning a servant, despatched him at once on the proposed errand. " And now what next ? " smilingly inquired her father. "Well, papa, after breakfast and prayers — how some of the old servants seemed to enjoy them last night — I think of going down to the quarter to see what may be needed there. Un- less you have some other plan for me, y she added quickly. " Suppose we first mount our horses and ride sver the estate, to learn for ourselves whether 80 ELSIE'S WOMANHOOD. Mr. Spriggs has been as faithful a3 he would have us believe." "Ah yes, papa; yours is always the bette? plan." Their ride in the clear, sweet morning air was most delightful, and both felt gratified with the fine appearance of the crops and the discovery that Spriggs' boast was no idle one ; everything being in the nicest order. They took the quarter on the way to the house, and dismounting, entered one neatly white- washed cabin after another, kindly inquiring into the condition and wants of the inmates, Elsie making notes on her tablets that nothing might be forgotten. Everywhere the visit was received with joy and gratitude, and an almost worshipful homage paid to the sweet young mistress whom they seemed to regard as akin to the angels : probably in a great measure because of her extraordinary like- ness to her mother, of whom, for so many years they had been accustomed to think and speak as one of the heavenly host. Spriggs' victim of the previous day was in bed, complaining much of a misery in back and head and limbs. " De doctah hab been heyah," she said, " *n J lefE me dese powdahs to take," drawing a tiny package from under her pillow. Elsie spoke soothingly to her ; said she should ELSIE'S WOMANHOOD. §2 have some broth from the house, and should be excused from work till the doctor pronounced her quite fit for it again ; and left her appar- ently quite happy. It was the intention of our friends to spend some weeks at Yiamede. "I want you to have every possible enjoy- ment while here, my darling," Mr. Dinsmoie said, as they sat together resting after their ride, in the wide veranda at the front of the house, looking out over the beautiful lawn, the bayou, and the lovely scenery beyond. "There are pleasant neighbors who will doubtless call when they hear of our arrival." "I almost wish they may not hear of it then," Elsie said half laughing ; " I just want to be left free from the claims of society for this short time, that I may fully enjoy being alone with my father and attending to the comfort of my peo- ple. But excuse me, dear papa, I fear I inter- rupted you." " I excuse you on condition that you are not again guilty of such a breach of good manners. I was going on to say there are delightful drives and walks in the vicinity, of which I hope we wDl be able to make good use ; also, we will have a row now and then on the bayou, and many an hour of quiet enjoyment of the contents of the library." " Yes, papa, I hope so ; I do so enjoy a nice 5* ELSIE'S WOMANHOOD. otttik especially when read with yoti. Bat I thii k that, for the present at least, I must spend a pa* t of each day in attending to the prepara- tion vf winter clothing for house-servanta and Sold h*nds." "I von't have you doing the actual work, ,he cutting cut and sewing, I mean," he answered decidedly ■ ' the head work, calculating how much mateiial is needed, what it will cost, etc., may be you* « ; but you have servants enough to do all the resC." " But, pa]sd, consider ; over three hundred to clothe, and I want it all done while I am here to oversee. " " Have not some of the house-servants been trained as seamstresses ? ' " Yes, sir, two of them, mammy tells me." " Very well ; she knows how to run a sewing- machine. Send for one when you order your material ; both can be had in the nearest town. Aunt Chloe can soon teach the girls how to man- age it ; Uncle Joe, too ; he has had no regular work assigned him yet, and the four can certainly do all without anything more than a little over- sight from you ; yes, without even that." " What a capital planner you are, papa," she Baid brightly ; " I never thought of getting a machine or setting Uncle Joe to running it ; but I'm sure it's just the thing to do. Mammy can cut and the girls baste, and among them the ma- ELSIE'S WOMANHOOD S3 chine can easily be kept going from morning to night. I'll make out my orders and send for the things at once." " That is right, daughter ; it pleases me weD to note how you put in practice the lesson of promptness I have always tried to teach you. I will help you in making your estimate of quan- tities needed, prices to be paid, etc., and I think we can accomplish the whole before dinner. Come to the library and let us to work." " You dear, kind father, always trying to help me and smooth the least roughness out of my path, and make life as enjoyable to me as possi- ble," she said, laying her hand on his arm and looking up into his face with eyes beaming with filial love, as they rose and stood together fo^ a moment. "A good daughter deserves a good father/' he answered, smoothing with soft caressing motion the shining hair. "But have you the necessary data for our estimates ? " " The number to be clothed, papa ? I know how many house-servants, how many babies and older children at the quitrter, but not the number of field hands." " That will be easily ascertained. I will send a note to Spriggs, who can tell us all about it" Mr. Dinsniore's plans were carried out to the letter, and with entire success. This was Satur- day ; the orders were sent that afternoon, and on 54 ELSIE'S WOMANHOOD. Monday morning the work began. Aunt Ohloe proved fully equal to the cutting of the gar- ments, and Uncle Joe an apt scholar under her patient, loving teaching, and a willing workor at his new employment. There was scarcely need of even oversight on the part of the young mis- tress. She would drop in occasionally, commend their industry, and inquire if anything were wanting ; then felt free for books, rides or walks, music or conversation with her father. But she was often down at the quarter visit- ing the sick, the aged and infirm, seeing that their wants were supplied, reading the Bible to them, praying with them, telling of the better land where no trouble or sorrow can come, and trying to make the way to it, through the shed blood of Christ, very plain and clear. Then she would gather the children about her and tell them of the blessed Jesus and his love for little ones. " Does he lub niggahs, missus ? " queried one grinning little woolly head. " Yes, if they love him : and they won't be asgroes in heaven." " White folks, missus ? Oh, datnice ! Gaess [ go dar ; ef dey let me in." B:t we are anticipating somewhat, though Elsie found time for a short visit to the sick and and aged on the afternoon of even that first day at Viamede. The next was the Sabbath, and as ELSIE'S WOMANHOOD. B5 lovely a day as coUd be desired. The horses were ordered for an early ^our, and. father and daughter rode some miles together to morning service, then home again. As the shadows began to lengthen in the afternoon, Elsie was sitting alone on the veranda, her father having left her side but a moment before, when an old negro, familiarly known as Uncle Ben, came round the corner of the house, and slowly approached her. Very sweet and fair, very beautiful she looked to his admiring eyes. She held a Bible in her hand, and was so intent upon its perusal that she vas not aware of his coming until he had drawn c^uite near. Ascending the steps, and standing at a respectful distance, hat in hand, he waited till she should notice and address him. Glancing up from her book, "Ah, Uncle Ben, good evening," she said. " What can I do for you?" " Missus," he answered, making a low salam, " all de darkeys is gadered togedder under a tree 'round de house yondah, and dey 'pint me com- mittee to come an' ax de young missus would she be so kind for to come an' read the Bible to dem, an' talk, an' pray, an' sing like she do for de sick ones down to de quarter ? Dey be berry glad, missus, an' more dan obliged." " Indeed I will, uncle," Elsie said, rising at 86 ELSIE 3 WOMANHOOD. once and going with him, Bible in hand ; " I had been thinking of doing this very thing." She found a rustic seat placed for her under a giant oak, and garlanded with fragrant flowers. Aunt Phillis, Aunt Chloe, Uncle Joe, and the rest of the house-servants, gathered in a semi- circle around it, while beyond, the men, women, and children from the quarter sat or lay upon the grass, enjoying the rest from the toils of the week, the quiet, the balmy air laden with the fragrance of the magnolia and orange, and all the sweet sights and sounds of rural life in that favored region. Every one rose at the appearance of their young mistress, and there were murmurs of delight and gratitude coming from all sides. " Now bress de Lord, she read the good book for us." "She good an' lubly as de angels." " Missus berry kind, de darkeys neber forget." Elsie acknowledged it all with a smile and a few kindly words, then commanding silence by a slight motion of the hand, addressed them in a clear, melodious voice, which, though not loud, could be distinctly heard by every one of the now almost breathless listeners. " I shall read to you of Jesus and some of his own words," she said, "but first we will ask him to help us to understand, to love, and to obey hi* teachings." Then folding her hands and lifting her eyes ELB1E'8 WOMANHOOD. 8? to the clear blue sky above, she led them in a prayer so simple and childlike, so filial and loving in spirit and expression, that the dullest under- stood it, and felt that she spoke to One who was very near and dear to her. After that she read with the same distinct utterance the third chapter of John's Gospel, and commented briefly upon it. " You all want to go to heaven ? " she said, closing the book. "Yes, Miss Elsie." "Yes missus, we all does." But to be able to go there you must know the way, and now I want to make sure that you do know it. Can you tell me what you must do to be saved ? " There were various answers, "Be good." " Mine de rules an' do 'bout right." " Pray to de Lord," etc., etc. Elsie shook her head gravely. "All that you must do, and more besides. What does Jesus say ? ' God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life.' We must believe in Jesus — believe all that the Bible tells us about him, that he was very God and very man, that ho came down from heaven, was born a little babe and laid in a manger, that he grew up to be a man, went abc at doing good, and at last suffered and died the cruel death oi the cross \ anl all to save poor lost sinners. 88 ELSIE'S WOMANHOOD. " But even that is not enough : the devilfi believe so much ; they know it is all true. But beside this, we must believe on Christ Jesus, He offers to be our Saviour. 'Come unto me . and I will give you rest.' ' Him that cometh unto me, I will in no wise cast out.' And you must come, you must take the eternal life he offers you ; you must rest on him and him only. " Suppose you were out on the bayou yonder, and the boat should upset and float beyond your reach, or be swept away from you by the wind and waves, and you couldn't swim ; but just as you are sinking, you find a plank floating near ; you catch hold of it, you find it strong and large enough to bear your weight, and you throw your- self upon it and cling to it for life. Just so you must cast yourself on Jesus, and cling to him with all your strength ; and he will save you ; for he is able and willing ' to save to the utter- most all that come unto God by him. , " He will wash away your sins in his own precious blood, and dress you in the beautiful robe of his perfect righteousness ; that is, set hie goodness to your account, so that you will be saved just as if you had been as good and holy as ho was. Then you will love him and try to do right to please him ; not to buy heaven ; you cannot do that, for ' all our righteousnesses are as filthy rags/ and we cannot be saved unless we trust only in Jesus and his righteousness," ELSIE'S WOMANHOOD. 89 Something in the faces before her caused Elsie to turn her head. Her father stood with graye, quiet air, but a few feet from her. "Papa/' she said, in an undertone, and blushing slightly, "I did not know you were here. Will you not speak to them ? you can do it so much better than I." She sat down, and stepping to her side he made a brief and simply worded address on the necessity of repentance and faith in Jesus, " the only Saviour of sinners," his willingness to saye all who came to him, and the great danger of delay in coming. Then with a short prayer and the singing of a hymn, they were dismissed. With murmured thanks and many a backward look of admiring loye at their already almost idolized young mistress, and her father, who had won their thorough respect and affection years ago, they scattered to their homes. " You must haye a shawl and hat, for the air begins to grow cool," said Mr. Dinsmore to his daughter. " Yes, massa, Fse brought dem," said Chloe^ hurrying up almost out of breath, with the required articles in her hand. " Thank you, mammy, you are always careful of your nursling ; " Elsie said, smilingly, as the shawl was wrapped carefully about her shoulders and the hat placed upon her head* 90 ELSIE 8 WOMANHOOD, Her father drew her hand within his arm and led her across the lawn. " There is one spot, very dear to us both, which we have not yet visited, " he said, low and feelingly," and I have rather wondered at your delay in asking me to take you there." She understood him. " Yes, sir," she said, "1 should have done so last evening, but that you looked weary. It has hardly been out of my mind since we came, and I have only waited for a suitable time." "None could be better than the present," he answered. On a gently sloping hillside, and beneath the shade of a beautiful magnolia, they found what they sought : a grave, with a headstone on which was carved the inscription : " Pell asleep in Jesus, March 15, 18—, Elsie, Wifs o? Horace Dinsmobb, and only remaining child of Wellulk akd Elsfeth Ghatsoh, Aged 16 years, and 2 weeks. 'Blessed are the dead who die in the Lord.' *• They read it standing side by side. " How young," murmured the daughter, tears filling her eyes, "how young to be a wife, a mother, and to die and leave husband and child 1 Oh, papa, how I used to long for her, and dream of her — my own precious mamma ! " " When, my darling ? " he asked in moved ELSIE'S WOMANHOOD. 91 tones, drawing her tenderly to him and passing an arm abont her waist. " Before I knew ycra, papa, and before yon began to love me 60 dearly and be father and mother both, to me, as you hare been for so many years." The low, sweet voice was tremulous with emotion, and the soft eyes lifted to his were brimming oyer with tears of mingled grief and joy, gratitude and loye. "I have tried to he," he said ; " but no one could supply her place. What a loving, tender mother she would have been ! But let us forget our loss in the bliss of knowing that it is so well with her." It was a family burying-ground ; there were other graves ; those of our Elsie's grandparents, and several of their sons and daughters who had died in infancy or early youth ; and in the midst uprose a costly monument, placed there by Mr. Grayson after the death of his wife. The spot showed the oame care as the rest of the estate, and was lovely with roses and other sweet flow- ers and shrubs. "My mother's grave!" said Elsie, bending over it again. " Papa, let us kneel down beside it and pray that we may meet her in heaven." He at once complied with the request, giving thanks for the quiet rest of her who slept in Jesus, and asking that, when each of them had done and suffered all God's boly will here on 9fc ELSIE'S WOMANHOOD earth, they might be reunited to her above, and join in her glad song of praise to redeeming love. Elsie joined fervently in the " Amen," and rising, they lingered a moment longer, then wended their way in sweet and solemn silence to the house. They sat together in the library after tea, each occupied with a book. But Elsie seemed little interested in hers, looking o3 the page now and then, as if in deep and troubled thought At length closing it, she stole round to the side of her father's easy chair, and taking possession of a footstool, laid her head on his knee. " I have my little girl again to-night," he said, passing his hand caressingly oyer her hair and cheek. " I almost wish it was, papa." " Why ? is anything troubling you, dearest ? " And he pushed his book aside, ready to give hia whole attention to her. " I am anxious about my poor people, papa ; they are so ignorant of the truths necessary to salvation ; and what can I teach them in three or four weeks ? I have almost decided that I ought — that I must stay as many months." "And that without eyen consulting your father ? much less considering his permission necessary to your action ? " Though the words seemed to convey reproach, if not reproof, his tone was gentle and tender ELSIE'S WOMANHOOD. 93 " No, no, papa ! I must cease to think it my duty if you forbid it." "As I do most positively. / cannot stay ; and I should never think for a moment of leaving you here ! " " But, papa, how then am I to do my duty by these poor ignorant creatures ? how can I let them perish for lack of knowledge whom Christ has put into my care ? " " Procure a chaplain, who shall hold regular services for them every Sabbath, and do pastoral work among them through the week. You will not grudge him his salary. " " Papa, what an excellent idea ! Grudge him his salary ? No, indeed ; if I can get the right man to fill the place, he shall have a liberal one. And then he will be a check upon Mr. Spriggs, and inform me if the people are abused. But how shall I find him ? " " What do you do when in want of some- thing you do not know exactly how to procure ? " "Pray for direction and help," she answered, low and reverently. " We will both do that, asking that the .right man may be sent us ; and I will write to-morrow to some of the presidents of the theological seminaries, asking them to recommend some one suited for the place." " Papa," she cried, lifting a very bright face to his, " what a load you have taken from mr miixd^ Cljapte <2%jj% " A mighty pain to lore It 1b And 'tis a pain that pain to misa ; Bnt of all palng, the greatest pain It Is to love, but lore in vain." —Cowley. Oke lovely afternoon in the second week oi their stay at Viamede, Mr. Dinsmore and liis daughter were seated in the shade of the trees on the lawn, she busied with some fancy-work while her father read aloud to her. As he paused to turn a leaf, "Papa," she said, glancing off down the bayou, " there is a steamer coming, the same that brought us, I think ; and see, it is rounding to at our landing. Can it be bringing us a guest ? " " Yes, a gentleman is stepping ashore. Why, daughter, it is Harold Allison. " " Harold ! oh, how delightful ! " And rising tbey hastened to meet and welcome him with Sruly Southern warmth of hospitality. " Harold ! how good of you 1 " cried Elsie. * Mamma wrote us that you were somewhere in &is region, and if I'd had your address, I should ELSIE'S WOMANHOOD. 95 have sent you an invitation to come and stay aa long as possible." --' And you have done well and kindly by us to come without waiting for that," Mr. Dins- more said, shaking the hand of his young broth- er-in-law with a warmth of cordiality that said more than his words. "Many thanks to you both/ 5 he answered gayly. " I was conceited enough to feel sure of a welcome, and did not wait, as a more modest fellow might, to be invited. But what a lovely place ! a paradise upon earth ! And, Elsie, you, in those dainty white robes, look the fit presid- ing genius." Elsie laughed and shook her head. u Don't turn flatterer, Harold ; though I do not object to praise of Viamede." " I have not heard from Eose in a long time," he said, addressing Mr. Dmsmore. "She and the little folks are well, I hope ? " " I had a letter this morning, and they were all in good health when it was written." The servants had come trooping down from the house, and seizing Harold's baggage had it already in the guest chamber to which Aunt Phillis ordered it. Aunt Ohloe now drew near to pay her respects to " Massa Harold," and toll him that his room was ready. " Will you go to it at once ? or sit down hait 96 ELSIE'S WOMANHOOD, and have a little chat with papa and me first F ** asked Elsie. " Thank you ; I think I shall defer the pleasure of the chat till I have first made myseli presentable for the evening." " Then let me conduct you to your room, said Mr. Dinsmore, leading the way to the house. Elsie had come in the course of years to look upon the older brothers of her stepmother as in some sort her uncles, but for Harold, who was so much nearer her own age, she entertained a sincere sisterly regard. And he was worthy of it and of the warm place his many noble qualities had won for him in Mr. Dinsmore's heart. They did all they could to make his visit to Viamede a pleasant one ; there were daily rides and walks, moonlight and early morning excur- sions on the bayou, rowing parties ; oftenest of the three alone, but sometimes in company with gal- lant chivalrous men and refined, cultivated women and charming young girls from the neighboring plantations. One of these last, a beautiful brunette, Elsie had selected in her own mind for Harold, and she contrived to throw them together frequently. " Don't you admire Miss Durand ? " she asked, after they had met several times. "I think she is lovely ; as good, too, as she is beau- tiful ; and would make you a charming wife." ELSIE'S WOMANHOOD. 9? Hg flashed he try. " She is very ban Isonie, very fascinating and talented/' he said ; " but would never suit me. Nor do I suppose I could win her if I wished," " Indeed I if you are so hard to please, I fear there will be nothing for you but old bachelor- hood/' laughed Elsie. " I have picked her out for you, and I believe you could win her if you tried, Harold ; but I shall not try to become a match-maker." " No, I must select for myself ; I couldn't let even you choose for me. " " Choose what ? " asked Mr. Dinsmore, step- ping out upon the veranda, where Harold stood leaning against a vine-wreathed pillar, his blue eyes fixed with a sort of wistful, longing look upon Elsie's graceful figure and fair face, as she gat in a half -reclining posture on a low couch but a few feet from him. " A wife," he answered, compelling himself to speak lightly. " Don't let her do %" said Mr. Dinsmore, taking a seat by Mp daughter's side ; " IVe warned ner more ' iiar* once not to meddle with match-making. ' And he shook his head at her with mock gravity. " I won't any more, papa ; 111 leave him to his own devices, since he shows himself so un- grateful for my interest in his welfare," Elaio 98 ELSIE'S WOMANHOOD. aaid, looking first at her father and then at Harold with a merry twinkle in her °ye. "1 don't think I've asked how you like your new homo and prospects, Harold," said Mr. Dins- more, changing the subject. " Very much, thank you ; except that they £ake me po far from the rest of the family." A fe^v months before this Harold had met with a pieue of rare good fortune, looked at from a worldly point of view, in being adopted as his gole heir by a rich and childless Louisiana plant- ter, a distant relative of Mrs. Allison. " Ah, that is an objection," returned Mr. Dinsmore ; "but you will be forming new and closer ties, that will doubtless go far to compen- sate for the partial loss of the old. I hope you are enjoying yourself here ? " "I am indeed, thank you," This answer 3ras true, yet Harold felt himself flush as he dpoke, for there was one serious drawback upon his felicity ; he could seldom get a word alone with Elsie ; she and her father were so insepara- ble that he scarcely saw the one without the other. And Harold strongly coveted an occa- sional monopoly of the sweet girl's society. He had come to Viamede with a purpose entirely unsuspected by her or her apparently vigilant guardian. He should perhaps, have confided his secret feo Mr, Dinsmore first, but his heart failed him ; ELSIE'S WOMANHOOD. 9S &nd "what would be the use ?" he asked him- self " if Elsie is not willing ? Ah, if I could but be alone with her for an hour 1 " The coveted opportunity offered itself at last^ quite unexpectedly. Coming out upon the ve- randa one afternoon, he saw Elsie sitting alone under a tree far down on the lawn. He hastened toward her. " I am glad to see you," she said, looking up with a smile and making room for him on the seat by her side. " You see I am ' lone and lorn,' Mr. Durand having carried oU papa to look at some new improvement in his sugar-house machinery." "Ah ! and when will your father return ?" "In about an hour, I presume. Shall you attend Aunt Adie's wedding ? " she asked. " Yes, I think so. Don't you sometimes feel as if you'd like to stay here altogether ? " " Yes, and no ; it's very lovely, and the more charming I believe, because it is my own ; but — there is so much more to bind me to the Oaks, and I could never live far away from papa." " Couldn't you ? I hoped— Oh, Elsie, couldn't you possibly love some one else better even than you love him ? You're more to me than father, mother, and all the world beside. I have wanted to tell you so for years, but while I was compara- tively poor your fortune sealed my lips. Now I am rich, and I lay all I have at your feet ; my lelf included ; and — " 100 ELSIE'S WOMAAIIOOD. " Oh Harold, Inish ! n she cried in trembling tones, flushing and paling by turns, and putting up her hand a3 if to stop the torrent of words he was pouring forth so unexpectedly that astonish- ment had struck her dumb for an instant ; " oh ! don't say any more, I — I thought you surely knew that — that I am already engaged." "No. To whom?" he asked hoarsely, hia face pale as death, and lips quivering so that he could scarcely speak. " To Mr. Travilla. It has been only for a few weeks, though we have loved each other for years. Oh, Harold, Harold, do not look so wretched ! you break my heart, for I love you as a very dear brother." He turned away with a groan, and without another word hastened back to the house, while Elsie, covering her face with her hands, shed some very bitter tears. Heart-broken, stunned, feeling as if every good thing in life had suddenly slipped from his grasp, Harold sought his room, mechanically garnered up his few effects, packed them into his valise, then sat down by the open window and leant his head upon his hand. He couldn't think, he could on]y feel that ail was lost, and that he mu3t go away at once, if he would not have every body know it, and make the idol of his heart miserable with the sight of his wretchedness. ELSIE'8 WOMANHOOD. 101 Why had he not "known of her engagement ? Why had no one told him ? Why had he been such a fool as to suppose he could win so great a prize ? He was not worthy of her. How plainly he saw it now, how sorely repented of the conceit that had led him on to the avowal of his passion. He had a vague recollection that a boat was to pass that afternoon. He would take passage in that, and he hoped Mr. Dinsmore's return might be delayed till he was gone. He would away without another word to Elsie ; she should not be disturbed by any further unmanly mani- festation of his bitter grief and despair. The hour of the passing of the boat drew near, and valise in hand, he left his room and passed down the stairs. But Elsie was coming in from the lawn, and they met in the lower hall. " Harold," she cried, "you are not going? You must not leave us so suddenly." " I must," he said in icy tones, the stony eyes gazing into vacancy ; " all places are alike to me now, and I cannot stay here to trouble you and Horace with the sight of a wretchedness I can- not hide." Trembling so that she could scarcely stand. Elsie leaned against the wall for support, the hot tears coursing down her cheeks. 'Oh, Harold !" she sobbed, "what an unhappy crea- ture I am to have been the cause of such sorrow 102 ELSIE'S WOMANHOOD. to you ! Oh why should you eyer have thoughi of me so ? " Dropping his valise, his whole manner changing, he turned to her with passionate vehemence. i( Because I couldn't help it ! Even as a boy I gave up my whole heart to you, and 1 cannot call it back. Oh, Elsie, why did I evei see you ? " and he seized both her hands in a grasp that almost forced a cry of pain from her white, quivering lips. " Life is worthless without you, I'd rather die knowing that you loved me than live to see you in possession of another." " Harold, Harold, a sister's love I can, I do give you ; and can you not be content with that?" " A Bister's love ! " he repeated scornfully. " OSer a cup with a drop of water in it, to a man perishing, dying with thirst. Yes, I'm going away, I care not whither ; all places are alike to him who has lost all interest in life." He threw her hands from him almost witn violence, half turned away, then suddenly catch- ing her in his arms, held her close to his heart, kissing passionately, forehead, cheek, and lips. "Oh, Elsie, Elsie, light of my eyes, core of my heart, why did we ever meet to part like this ? I don't blame you. I have been a fool. Good- by, darling." And releasing her, he was gone ere she could recover breath to speak. It had all been so sudden she had hud no power, per* ELSIE'S WOMANHOOD, 108 haps no will, to resist, so sore was the tender, loving heart for him. He was barely in time to hail the boat as it passed, and at the instant he was about to step aboard, Mr, Dinsmore rode up, and springing from the saddle, throwing the reins to his servant, cried out in astonishment, " Harold! you are not leaving us ? Come, come, what has hap- pened to hurry you away. Must you go ? " "Yes, I must,' 3 he answered hoarsely and with half -averted face. " Don't call me a scoun- drel for making such a return for your hospital- ity. I couldn't help it. Good-by. Try to forget that I've been here at all ; for Rose's sake, you know." He sprang into the boat ; it pushed off, and was presently lost to sight among the trees shad- ing the bayou on either hand. Mr. Dinsmore stood for a moment as if spell- bound ; then turned and walked thoughtfully toward the house. " What did it all mean ? " he asked himself ; " of what unkind return of his or Elsie's hospitality could the lad have been guilty ? Elsie I ha ! can it be possible ? " and quickened his pace, glancing from side to side in search of her as lie hurried on. Entering the hall, the sound of a half-smoth- 8red sob guided him to a little parlor or reception- room seldom used. Softly he opened the door. She was there half -reclining upon a 3ofa, her 104 ELSTE'8 WOMANHOOD. face buried in its cushions. In a moment he had her in his arms, the weary, aching head on his breast, while he tenderly wiped away the fast- f ailing tears. " My poor darling, my poor little pet, don't take it so to heart. It is nothing ; he will proba- bly get over it before he is a month older." " Papa, is it my fault ? did I give him undue encouragement ? am I a coquette ? " she sobbed, " Far from it ! did he dare to call you that ? " " No, no, oh, no ; he said he did not blame me ; it was all his own folly." "Ah! I think the better of him for that; though 'twas no more than just." "I thought he knew of my engagement." " So did I. And the absurdity of the :hing ! Such a mixture of relationships as it would have been ! I should never have entertained the thought for a moment. And he ought to have spoken to me first, and spared you all this. No, you needn't fret ; he deserves all he suffers, for what he has inflicted upon you, my precious one." " I hardly think that, papa ; he was very generous to take all the blame to himself ; but oh, you have eased my heart of half its load. What should I ever do without you, my own dear, dear father ! " The pleasure of our friends, during ths resl ELSIE' S WOMANHOOD. 105 of then stay at Viamede, was somewhat dampened by this unfortunate episode, though Elsie, foi her father's sake, did her best to rally from its effect on her spirits, and to be cheerful and gay as before. Long, bright, loving, letters from home, and Ion coming the next day, were a great help. Then the next day brought a chaplain, who seemed in all respects so well suited to his place as to entirely relieve her mind in regard to the future welfare of her people. He entered into all her plans for them, and promised to carry them out to the best of his ability. So it was with a light heart, though not with- out some lingering regrets for the sad one3 and the loveliness left behind, that she and her father set out on their homeward way. Mr. Dinsmore's man John, Aunt Chloe, and Uncle Joe, went with them ; and it was a con- tinual feast for master and mistress to see the happiness of the poor old couple, especially when their grandchild Dinah, their only living descendant so far as they could learn, was aided to the party ; Elsie purchasing her, according to promise, as they passed through New Orleans on their return trip. Dinah was very grateful to find herself instaLed as assistant to her grandmother, who, Elsio said, must begin to take life more easily now in her old age. Yet that Aunt Chloe found 106 ELSIE'S WOMANHOOD. it hard to do, for she was very jealous of having any hands but her own busied about the person of her idolized young mistress. A glad welcome awaited them at home, where they arrived in due season for Adelaide's wed- ding. Sophie and Harry Carrington had returned from their wedding trip, and were making their home with his parents, at Ashlands ; Richard, Fred, and May Allison, came with their brother Edward ; but Harold, who was to meet them at Roselands, was not there. He had engaged to act as second groomsman, Richard being first, and there was much wondering over his absence ; many regrets were expressed, and some anxiety was felt. But Elsie and her father kept their own counsel, and breathed no word of the episode at Viamede, which would have explained all. Harold's coming was still hoped for by the others until the last moment, when Fred took his place, and the ceremony passed off as satis- factorily as if there had been no failure, on the part of any expected, to participate in it. It took place in the drawing-room at Rose- lands, in presence a crowd of aristocratic guests, and was considered a very grand affair. A round of parties followed for the next two weeks, and then the happy pair set sail for Europe. <%pfer |fint|. ■* 3£y plot* fa- short, like darts which rash hands throw With an HI aim, and have too far to go." —Sib Rosbst Hot?asd. " I'm so glad if s all over at last ! " "What, my little friend ?" and Mr. Travilla looked fondly into the sweet face so bright and nappy, where the beauties of rare intellect and moral worth were as eonspicuons as the lesser ones of exquisite contour and coloring. "The wedding and all the accompanying round of dissipation. Now I hope we can settle down to quiet home pleasures for the rest of the winter." " So do I, and that I shall see twice as much of you as I have of late. You can have no idea how I missed you while you were absent. And I am more than half envious of our bride and groom. Shall our trip be to Europe, Elsie ? " " Are we to take a trip ? " she asked with an arch smile "That will be as you wish, learest* of course." 108 ELbIE'8 WOMANHOOD. " I don't wish it now, nor do you, I know i but we shall have time enough to settle all suet questions." " Plenty ; I only wish we had not so much Yet I don't mean to grumble ; the months wili soon slip away and bring the time when I may claim my prize." They were riding toward the Oaks ; the sun had just set, and the moon was still below the horizon. Elsie suddenly reined in her horse, Mr. Tra- yilla instantly doing likewise, and turned a pale, agitated face upon him. "Did you hear that ? " she asked low and tremulously. " What, dear child ? I heard nothing but the sound of our horses' hoofs, the sighing of the wind in the tree-tops, and our own voices." " I heard another; a muttered oath and the words, ' You shall never win her. I'll see to that.' The tones were not loud but deep, and the wind seemed to carry the sounds directly to my ear," she whispered, laying a trembling little hand on his arm, and glancing nervously from side to side. " A trick of the imagination, I think, dearest ; but from whence did the sounds seem to come ? '* " From yonder thicket of evergreens and — I knew the voice for that of your deadly foe, the man from whom you and papa reacued me is Lansdale." ELSIE' 8 WOMANHuul) 10S " My child, he is expiating his crime in a Pennsylvania penitentiary." " But may he not haye escaped, or have been pardoned out ? Don't, oh don't, I entreat yon ! ?: she cried, as he turned his horse's head in the direction of the thicket. " Yon will be killed." " I am armed, and a dead shot," he answered, taking a revolver from his breast pocket. * But he is in ambush, and can shoot you down before you can see to aim at him." " You are right, if there is really an enemy concealed there," he answered, returning the revolver to its former resting place ; " but I feel confident that it was either a trick of the imagi- nation with you, or that some one is playing a practical joke upon us. So set your fears at rest, dear child, and let us hasten on our way. " Elsie yielded to his better judgment, trying to believe it nothing worse than a practical joke ; but had much ado to quiet her agitated nerves and recover her composure before a brisk canter brought them to the Oaks, and she must meet her fathers keen eye. They found Arthur in the drawing-room, chatting with Rose. He rose with a bland, ie Good evening," and gallantly handed Elsie to a seat. Arthur was a good deal changed since his recall from college ; and in nothing more than in his manner to Elsie ; he was now always polite ; often cordial even when alone with her. 110 ELSIE'S WOMANHOOD. He was not thoroughly ieformed, but had ceased to gamble and seldom drank to intoxication. " Thank you ; but indeed I must go at once and dress for tea," Elsie said, consulting her watch. " You are not going yet ? " f; No, he will stay to tea," said Eose. ' ( But must go soon after, as I have an en- gagement," added Arthur. Elsie met her father in the hall. " Ah, you are at home again," he remarked with a pleased look ; " that is well ; I was beginning to think you were making it very late." " But you are not uneasy when I am in such good hands, papa ? " " No, not exactly ; but like better to take care of you myself." The clock was just striking eight as Arthur mounted and rode away from his brothers door. It was not a dark night, or yet very light ; for though the moon had risen, dark clouds were scudding across the sky, allowing but an occa- sional glimpse of her face, and casting deep shadows oyer the landscape. In the partial obscurity of one of these, and only a few rods ahead of him, when about half- way between the Oaks and Koselands, Arthur thought he discovered the figure of a man stand- ing by the roadside, apparently waiting to halt him as he passed. "Ha ! you'll not take ^ie by surprise, my ELSIE'S WOMANHOOD. Ill ine fellow, whoever you may be," muttered Arthur between bis set teeth, drawing out a revolver and cocking it. "Halloo there ' Who are you ; and what d'ye want ? " he caJed, m his horse brought him nearly opposite the suspi- cious looking object. "Your money or your life, Dinsmore," re- turned the other with a coarse laugh. "Don't pretend not to know me, old chap." " You 1 " exclaimed Arthur, with an oath, but half under his breath. "I thought you were safe in-—" " State prison, eh ? Well, so I was, but they've pardoned me out I was a reformed character, you see ; and then my vote was wanted at the last election, ha ! ha ! And so I've come down to see how my old friends are getting along." " Friends I don't count me among them ! " returned Arthur hastily ; " jail-birds are no mates for me," " Ko, I understand that, the disgrace is in being caught. But you'd as well keep a civil tongue in your head ; for if you're covering me with a revolver, I'm doing the same by you." " I'm not afraid of you, Tom," answered Arthur, with a scornful laugh, "but I'm in a fcuirry ; so be good enough to move out of the tfay and let me pass." For the other had uo^ 112 ELSIE'S WOMANHOOD. planted himself in the middle of the road, and laid a heavy hand upon the horse's bridle-rein. " When I've said my say ; no sooner. So that pretty niece of yours, my former fiancee, is engaged to Travilla ? the man whom, of all others, I hate with a hatred bitterer than death. I would set my heel upon his head and grind it into the earth as I would the head of a venomous reptile." " Who told you ? " " I overheard some o' their sweet talk as they rode by here not two hours ago. He robbed me of her that he might snatch the prize him- self ; I saw his game at the time. But he shall never get her," he concluded, grinding his teeth with rage. " Pray, how do you propose to prevent it ? " " 111 call him out. ' Arthur's laugh rang out mockingly upon the still night air. " Southern gentlemen accept a challenge only from gentlemen ; and as for Tra- villa, beside being a dead shot, he's too pious to fight a duel, even with his own class." "He'll meet me in fair fight, or I'll shoot him down, like a dog, in his tracks." The words, spoken in low tone, of concentrated fury, were accompanied with a volley of horrible oaths. " You'd better not try it ! " said Arthur ; " you'd be lynched and hung on the nearest tree within an hour " EL81E>8 WOMANHOOD. 113 "They'd haye to catch me first." " And they would, they'd set their blood- hounds on your track, and there' d be no escape. As to the lady haying been your fiancee — she neyer was ; she would not engage herself with- out my brother's consent, which you were not able to obtain. And now you'd better take yourself off out of this neighborhood, after such threats as you'ye made ! " " That means you intend to turn informer, eh?" " It means nothing of the kind, unless I'm called up as a witness in court ; but you can't prowl about here long without being seen and arrested a? a suspicious character, an abolition- ist, or some other sort of scoundrel — which last 70U know you are," Arthur could not help add- ing in a parenthesis. " So take my adyice, and retreat while you can. Now out o' the way, if you please, and let me pass." Jackson sullenly stood aside, letting go the rein, and Arthur galloped off. In the meantime, .the older members of the family at the Oaks were quietly enjoying them- selves in the library, where bright lights, and s cheerful wood fire snapping and crackling on the hearth, added to the sense of comfort imparted by handsome furniture, books, paint- ings, statuary, rich carpet, soft couches, and sasy chairs. 114 ELSIE'S WOMANBQOD. The children had been sent to bed. Mr. and Mrs. Dinsmore sat by the centre table, the one bnsy with the evening paper, the otLer sewing, bnt now and then casting a furtive glance at a distant sofa, where Mr. Trayilla and Elsie were seated side by side, conversing in an undertone. "This is comfort, having you to myself again," ho was saying, as he watched admir- ingly the delicate fingers busied with a crochet needle, forming bright meshes of scarlet zephyr. " How I missed you when you were gone ! and yet, do you know, I cannot altogether regret the short separation, since otherwise I should have missed my precious budget of letters." "Ah," she said, lifting her merry brown eyes to his face for an instant, then dropping them again, with a charming smile and blush, " do you think that an original idea, or rather that it is original only with yourself ? " " And you are glad to have mine ? though not nearly so sweet and fresh as yours." How glad he looked as he spoke. "Ah!" she answered archly, "I'll not tell you what I have done with them, lest you grow conceited. But I have a confession to make," and she laughed lightly. " Will you absolve me beforehand ? " "Yes, if you are penitent, and promise to offend no more. What is it ?." " I see I have aroused your curiosity, I shall ELSIE'S WOMANBOOB. 118 not keep you in suspense. I am corresponding with a young gentleman. Here is a letter from him. received to-day ; " drawing it from her pocket as she spoke, she put it into his hand. " I have no wish to examine it," he said gravely, laying it on her lap. " I can trust you fully, Elsie." " But I should like you to read it ; 'tis from Mr. Mason, my chaplain at Yiamede, and gives a lengthy, and yery interesting account of the Christmas doings there." " Which I should much prefer to hear from your lips, my little friend." " Ah, read it, please ; read it aloud to me ; I shall then enjoy it as much as I did the first time ; and you will learn how truly good and pious Mr. Mason is, far better than from my telling. Not that he talks of himself, but you perceive it from what he says of others." He complied with her request, reading in the undertone in which they had been talking. " A very well written and interesting letter," he remarked, as he refolded and returned it, "Yes, I should judge from it that he is the right man in the right place. I presume the selection of gifts so satisfactory to all parties must have been yours ? " " Yes, sir ; being with them, I was able to ascertain their wants and wishes, by questioning one in regard to another. Then I made out the 116 ELSIE'S WOMANHOOD. list, and left Mr. Mason to do the purchasing for me. I think I can trust him again, and it is a great relief to my mind to haye some one there to attend to the welfare of their souls and bodies." "Haye you gotten oyer your fright of this evening ? " he inquired tenderly, bending toward her, and speaking lower than before. " Almost if — if you haye not to return to Ion to-night. Must you, really ? " "Yes; mother would be alarmed bj my absence ; and she seldom retires till I am there to bid her good-night" " Then promise me to ayoid that thicket," she pleaded anxiously. " I cannot think there is any real danger," he said, with a reassuring smile, "but I shall take the other road; 'tis but a mile further round, and it would pay me to trayel fifty to spare you a moment's anxiety, dearest." She looked her thanks. He left at ten, his usual hour, bidding her haye no fear for him, since no real evil can befall those who put their trust in Him whose watch- ful, protecting care is eyer about His chosen ones. " Yes," she whispered, as for a moment his arm encircled her waist, "'What time I am afraid, I will trust in thee.' It is comparatively easy to trust for myself, and God will help me to do it for you also." ELSIE'S WOMANHOOD. IIS She stood at the window watching his depart- ure, her heart going up in silent prayer for hig safety. Then, saying to herself, "Papa must not be disturbed with my idle fancies," she turned to receive his good-night with a face so serene and unclouded, a manner so calm and peaceful, that he had no suspicion of anything amiss, Kor was it an assumed peace and calmness ; foi she nad not now to learn to cast her care on the Lord, whom she had loved and served from her very infancy ; and her head had not rested many moments upon her pillow, ere she fell into a deep, eweet sleep, that lasted until morning. While Elsie slept, and Mr. Travilla galloped homeward by the longer route, the moon, peer- ing through the cloud curtains, looked down upon a dark figure, standing behind a tree not many yards distant from the thicket Elaie had besought her friend to shun. The man held a revolver in his hand, ready cocked for instant use. His attitude was that of one listening intently for some expected sound. He had stood thus for nours, and was grow- ing very weary, " Curse the wretch ! " he mut- tered, "does he court all night? How manj hours have I been here waiting for my chance for a shot at him ? It's getting to be no joke, hungry, cold, tired enough to he down here on the ground. But I'll stick it out, and shoot him down like a dog. He thinks to enjoy the prize 118 ELSIE 3 WOMANHOOD. he 3natched from me, but he'll find himself mis^ taken, or my name's n " The sentence ended with a fierce grinding of the teeth. Hark ! was that the distant tread of a horse ? He bent his ear to the earth, and almost held his breath to listen. Yes, faint but unmistakable ; the sounda filled him with a fiendish joy. For years he had nursed his hatred of Travilla, whom he blamed almost exclusively for his failure to get possession of Elsie's fortune. He sprang up and again placed himself in position to fire. But what had become of the welcome sounds ? Alas for his hoped-for re- venge ; they had died away entirely. The horse and his rider must have taken some other road. More low-breathed, bitter curses : yet perchance it was not the man for whose life he thirsted. He would wait and hope on. But the night waned : one after another the moon and stars set and day began to break in the east ; the birds waking in their nests overhead grew clamorous with joy, yet their notes seemed to contain a warning tone for him, bidding him begone ere the coming of the light hated by those whose deeds are evil. Chilled by the frosty air, and stiff and sore from long standing in a constrained position, he limped away, and dis- appeared in the deeper shadows of the woods. Arthur's words of warning had taken then JULSIE'S WOMANHOOD. IIS desired effect ; and cowardly, as base, wicked, and cruel, the man made haste to flee from the scene of his intended crime, imagining at times that he eyen heard the blood-hounds already on hia track. Cjjapfer fat|. " At last I know thee— and my Krai, From all thy %rt* set free, Abjures the u>;0. consummate art Shrin'd as a *oul in thee." — Sjuu J. Ciajul The jest of the winter passed quietly and happily with our friends at Ion and the Oaks, Mr. Travilla spending nearly half his time at the latter place, and in rides and walks with Elsie, whom he now and then coaxed to Ion for a call upon his mother. Their courtship vjas serene and peaceful : disturbed by no feverish heat of passion, no doubts and fears, no lovers' quarrels, but full ol a deep, intense happiness, the fruit of their long and intimate friendship, their full acquaintance with, and perfect confidence in each other, and their strong love. Enna sneeringly observed that "they were more like some staid old married couple than a pair of lovers." Arthur made no confidant in regard to his late interview with Jackson ; nothing more was heard or seen of the scoundrel, and gradually ELSIE'S WOMANHOOD. 1S1 Elsie eame to the conclusion that Mr. TrayiH^ who occasionally rallied her good-naturedly on the subject of her fright, had been correct in his judgment that it was either the work of imagina- tion or of some practical joker. Arthur, on his part, thought that fear of the terrors he had held up before him would cause Jackson— whom he knew to be an arrant coward — to refrain from adventuring himself again into that neighborhood. But he miscalculated the depth of the man's animosity toward Mr. Trayilla, which so exceeded his cowardice as at length to induce him to return and make another effort to destroy either the life of that gentleman or his hopes of happiness ; perhaps both. Elsie was very fond of the society of her dear ones, yet occasionally found much enjoyment in being alone, for a short season, with Mature or a book. A yery happy little woman, as she had every reason to be, and full of gratitude and love to the Giver of all good for his unnumbered blessings, she loved now and then to have a quiet hour in whicr to count them over, as a miser does his gold, to return her heartfelt thanks, tell her best, her dearest Friend of all, how happy she was, and seek help from Him to make a r^ght use of each talent committed to her care. Seated in her favorite arbor one lovely gpring day, with thoughts thus employed, and eyes gas- 122 ELSIE'S WOMANHOOD. ing dreamily upon the beautiful landscape spread out at her feet, she was startled from her reverie by some one suddenly stepping in and boldly taking a seat by her side. She turned her head. Could it be possible ? Yes, it was ."ndeed Tom Jackson, handsomely dressed and looking, to a casual observer, the gentleman she had once believed him to be. She recognized him instantly. A burning blush suffused her face, dyeing even the fair neck and arms. She spoke not a word, but rose up hastily with the intent to fly from his hateful presence. "Now don't, my darling, don't run awaj from me," he said, intercepting her. " I'm sure you couldn't have the heart, if you knew how I have lived for years upon the hope of such a meeting : for my love for you, dearest Elsie, has never lessened, the ardor of my passion has never cooled — " " Enough, sir . " she said, drawing herself up, her eyes kindling and flashing as he had never thought they could ; " how dare you insult me by such words, and by your presence here ? Let me pass." " Insult you, Miss Dinsmore ? " he cried, in affected surprise. ' ' You were not wont, in pad. days, to consider my presence an insult, and I oould never have believed fickleness a part of your nature. You are now of age, and have a ELSIE'S WOMANHOOD. 123 right to listen to my defence, and my suit for your heart and hand." "Are yon mad? Can you still suppose me ignorant of your true character and your history for years past ? Know then that I am fully acquainted with them ; that I know you to be a lover of vice and the society of the yicious— a drunkard, profane, a gambler, and one who has stained his hands with the blood of a fellow-crea- ture/' she added with a shudder. " I pray God you may repent and be forgiven ; but you are not and can never be anything to me." " So with all your piety you forsake your friends when they get into trouble,''' he remarked with a bitter sneer. " Friend of mine you never were," she answered quietly ; "I know it was my fortune and not myself you really wanted. But though it were true that you loved me as madly and dis- interestedly as you professed, had I known your character, never, never should I have held speech with you, much less admitted you to terms of familiarity — a fact which I look back upon with the deepest mortification. Let me pass, sir, and never venture to approach me again." "Xo you don't, my haughty miss ! I'm not done with you yet," he exclaimed between hit clenched teeth, and seizing her rudely by the aria sa she tried to step past him. (i So you're en- i24 ELSIE'S WOMANHOOD. gaged to that fatherly friend of yours, that piou sneak, that deadly foe to me ? " " Unhand me, sir ! " " Not yet," he answered, tightening his grasp, and at the same time taking a pistol from hifi pocket "I swear you shall never marry thai man : promise me on your oath that you'll not, or — I'll shoot you through the heart ; the heart that's turned false to me. D'ye hear," and he held the muzzle of his piece within a foot of her breast. Every trace of color fled from her face, hut she stood like a marble statue, without speech or motion of a muscle, her eyes looking straight into his with firm defiance. " Do you hear ? " he repeated, in a tone of exasperation, " speak ! promise that you'll never marry Travilla, or I'll shoot you in three min- utes — shoot you down dead on the spot, if I swing for it before night." " That will be as God pleases," she answered low and reverently ; " you can have no power at all against me except it be given you from above." " I can't, hey ? looks like it ; I've only to touch the trigger here, and your soul's out o' your body. Better promise than die," Still she stood looking him unflinchingly in the eye ; not a muscle moving, no sign of feai except that deadly pallor. ELSIE'S WOMANHOOD. 125 "Well/ 5 lowering his piece, "you're a brave girl, and I haven't the heart to do it" he exclaimed in admiration. "Fll give up that promise ; on condition that yon make another — that you'll keep all this a secret for twenty-four hours, so I can make my escape from the neigh- borhood before they get after me with their bloodhounds." " That I promise, if you will begone at once." " You'll not say a word to anyone of having seen me, or suspecting I'm about here ? " " Not a word until th a twenty-four hours are over." " Then good-by. Your pluck has saved your life ; but remember, I've not said I won't shoot him or your father, if chance throws them in my way," he added, looking back over his shoulder with a malicious leer, as he left the arbor, then disappearing from sight among the trees and shrubbery beyond. Elsie's knees shook and trembled under her ; she sank back into her seat, covering her face and bowing her head upon her lap, while she sent up silent, almost agonizing petitions for the safety of those two so inexpressibly dear to her. Some moments passed thus, then she rose and hastened, with a quick nervous step, to the house. She entered her boudoir, and lay down upon a couch trembling in every fibre, every nerve quivering with excitement. The shock had been terrible- 186 ELSIE'S WOMANHOOD. '* What de matter wid my chile ? what aila you, honey ?" asked Aunt Chloe, coming to her side full of concern. "I think one of my bad headaches is coming on, mammy. But oh, tell me, is Mr. Travilla here ? — and papa ! where is he ? " "Here, daughter," his yoice answered, close at hand, "and with a note for you from Mr. Travilla, who has not shown himself to-day." She took it eagerly, but with a hand that trembled as if with sudden palsy, while the eyes, usually so keen-sighted, saw only a blurred and confused jumble of letters in place of the clear, legible characters really there. " I cannot see^" she said, in a half -frightened tone, and pressing the other hand to her brow. "And you are trembling like an aspen leaf," he said, bending over her in serious alarm, "My child, when did this come on? and what has caused it ? " " Papa, I cannot tell you now, or till to-mor- row, at this hour ; I will then. But oh, papa dear, dear papa ! " she cried, putting her arm about his neck and bursting into hysterical weep- ing, " promise me, if you love me promise me, that you will not leave the house till I have told you. I am sick, I am suffering ; you will stay by me ? you will not leave me ?" " My darling, I will do anything I can to relieve you, mentally or physically," he answered ELSIE'S WOMANHOOD. W7 in tones of tenderest love and concern. " I shall not stir from the honse, while to do so would increase your suffering. I perceive there has been some villainy practised npon yon, and a promise extorted, which I shall not ask yon to break ; bnt rest assured, I shall keep guard over my precious one." "And Mr. Travilla!" she gasped. "Oh, papa, if I only knew he was safe ! " " Perhaps the note may set your mind at rest on that point. Shall I read it for yon ? " " Yes, sir," she said, putting it into his hand with a slight blush, " he never writes what I should be ashamed or afraid to have my father see." It was but short, written merely to explain his absence, and dated from a neighboring plan- tation, where he had gone to assist in nursing a sick friend whom he should not be able to leave for some days. There were words of deep, strong affection, but as she had foreseen, nothing that Bhe need care to have her father know or see. "Does not this news allay your fears for him ? " Mr- Dinsmore asked tenderly. " Yes, papa," she answered, the tears stream- ing from her eyes. " Oh, how good God is to me ! I will trust him, trust him for you both, as well as myself. " She covered her face with her hands while Bhudder after shudder shook her whofe frame. 128 ELSIE'S WOMANHOOD Mr. Dinsmore was much perplexed, and deeply concerned. " Shall I send for Dr. Bar ton ? " he asked. " No, no, papa ! I am not ill ; only my nerves have had a great, a terrible shock ; they seem all unstmng, and my temple* are throbbing with pain.-' " My poor, poor darling ! strange that with all my care and watchfulness you should have been subjected to such a trial. Some ruffian has bero trying to extort money from you, I presume, oy threatened violence to yourself, Travilla, and me. Where were you ? " "In my arbor, sir " " And alone ? " "Yes, papa ; I thought myself safe there." " I forbid you to go there or to any distance from the house, alone, again. You must always have some one within call, if not close at youi side." " And my father knows I will obey him," she said, tremulously lifting his hand to her lips. He administered an anodyne to relieve the tortured nerves, then sitting down beside her, passed his hand soothingly over hair and cheek, while with the other he held ona of hers in lov- ing, tender clasp. Neither spoke, and at length she fell asleep ; yet not a sound, refreshing slum- ber, but disturbed by starts and moans, and fre- quent wakings to see and feel that he was stUJ ELSIE'S WOMANHOOD. 129 there, " Papa, don't go away . don't leave me l n was her constant cry. "My darling, my precious one, I will not,' was his repeated assurance ; "I will stay with yon while this trouble lasts." And all that day and night he never left her side, while Rose came and went, full of aniiety and doing everything that could be done for the sufferers relief. It was a night of unrest to them all ; but morning found her free from pain, though weak and languid, and still filled with distress if her father was absent for more than a few momenta from her side. She inquired of him at what hour she had come in the day before : then watched the time and, as soon as released from her promise, told him all. Great was his indignation ; and, determined that, if possible, the villain should be apprehended and brought to justtice, he sent word at once to the magistrates : a warrant was issued, and sev eral parties were presently out in different direc- tions in hot pursuit. But with the twenty-four hours' start Jackson had made good his escape, and the only advan- tage gained was the relief of knowing that he no longer infested the neighborhood. " But when may he not return ? " El3ie said with a shudder. " Papa, I tremble for you, d&J for— Mr Travilla," 6» 130 ELSIE '8 WOMANHOOD "I am far more concerned for you," he answered, gazing upon her pale face with pity- ing, fatherly tenderness. "But let us cast this care, with all others, upon our God. "Thou wilt keep him in perfect peace whose mind is stayed on thee ; because he trusteth in thee.'* (fjrapte (fcntk 14 Of truth, he truly will all styles deserve Of triee, good, lust ; a man both eoal and narva.''' — Seielsy. The story reached Mr, Travilla's ears that evening, and finding he could be spared from the sick-room, he hastened to the Oaks. His emotions were too big for utterance as he took his " little friend " in his arms and clasped her to his beating heart. " God be thanked that you are safe ! " he said at last. " Oh. my darling, my darling, what peril you have been in and how bravely you met it ! You are the heroine of the hour," he added with a faint laugh, " all, old and young, male and female, black and white, are loud in praise of your wonderful firmness and courage. And, my darling, I fully agree with them, and exult in the thought that this brave lady ia mine own." He drew her closer as he spoke, and just touched his lips to the shmJng hair and the pure white forehead resting on "his breast 132 ELSIE'S WOMANHOOD. a Ah ! " she murmured low and softly, a dewy light shining in her eyes, "why should they think it anything wonderful or strange that I felt little dread or fear at the prospect of a fudden transit from earth to heaven — a quick summons home to my Father's house on high, to be at once freed from sin and forever with the Lord ? I have a great deal to live for, life looks very bright and sweet to me ; yet but for you and papa, I think it would have mattered lit- tle to mo had he carried out hib threat." " My little friend, it would have broken my heart : to lose you were worse than a thousand deaths." They were alone in Elsie's boudoir, but when an hour had slipped rapidly away there came a message from Mr. Dinsmore to the effect that their company would be very acceptable in the library. They repaired thither at once, and found him and Eose laying out plans for a summer trip. The matter was under discussion all the rest of the evening and for some days after, resulting finally in the getting up a large party of tourists, consisting of the entire families of the Oaks and Ion, with the addition of Harry and Sophie Car- rington, and Lora with her husband and chil- dren ; servants of course included. They kept together for some time, visiting different points of interest :n Virginia, Pennsyl- ELSIE'S WOMANHOOD. 133 rania, and New York ; spending several weeks at Cape May ; where they were joined by the Alli- sons of Philadelphia ; Mr. Edward and Adelaide among the rest, they having returned from Europe shortly before. At length they separated, some going in one direction, some in another. Lora went to Louise, Eose to her father's, Mrs. and Mr. Travilla to friends in Cincinnati and its suburbs, and Elsie to pay a long-promised visit to Lucy in her mar- ried home, a beautiful country-seat on the banks of the Hudson. Her father saw her safely thero, then left her for a fortnight ; their fears in re- gard to Jackson having been allayed by the news that he had been again arrested for burglary, and Lucy and her husband promising to guard their precious charge with jealous care. At the end of the fortnight Mr. Dinsmore returned for his daughter, and they went on together to Lansdale to visit Miss Stanhope. Elsie had set her heart on having her dear old aunt spend the fall and winter with them in the "sunny South," and especially on her being present at the wedding ; and Miss Stanhope, after much urging and many protestations that she was too old for such a journey, had at last yielded, and given her promise, on condition that her nephew and niece should come for her, and first spend a week or two in Lansdale. She entreated that Mr. Travilla and his mother might be of 134 ELSIES WOMANHOOD. the party. " He was a great favorite of hers, and she was sure his mother must be a woman in a thousand." They accepted the kindness as cordially ag it was proffered ; met the others at the nearest, point of connection, arid all arrived together. It was not Lottie King who met them at the depot this time, but a nae-looking young man with black moustache and roguish dark eye, who introduced himself as Harry Duncan, Miss Stanhope's nephew. " Almost a cousin ! Shall we consider you quite one ? " asked Mr. Dinsmore, warmly shak- ing the hand held out to him in cordial greeting. " Thank you, I shall feel highly honored/' the young man answered in a gratified tone, and with a glance of undisguised admiration and a respectful bow directed toward Elsie. Then turning with an almost reverential air and deeper bow to Mrs. Travilla, " And, madam, may I have the privilege of placing you alongside of my dear old aunt, and addressing you by the same title?" "You may, indeed," was the smiling re- joinder. " And my son here, I suppose, will take his place with the others as cousin. No doubt we are all related, if we could only go back fai enough in tracing out our genealogies." " To Father Adam, for instance," remarked Mr Travilla, laughingly. ££LSIE'8 WOMANHOOD. 135 " Or good old Noah, or even his son Japheth, 5 * rejoined Harry, leading the way to a family car- riage sufficiently roomy to hold them all com- fortably. " Your checks, if you please, aunt and cous- ins ; and Simon here will attend to your luggage. Servants' also." Elsie turned her head to see a young colored man, bowing, scraping, and grinning from eat to ear, in whom she perceived a faint resem- blance to the lad Simon of four years ago. "You hain't forgot me, miss ?" he said " I'm still at de ole place wid Miss Wealthy." She gave him a smile and a nod, dropping a gold dollar into his hand along with her checks ; the gentlemen said, " How d'ye do," and were equally generous, and he went off chuckling. As they drew near their destination, a quaint little figure could be seen standing at the gate in the shade of a maple tree, whose leaves of mingled green and scarlet, just touched by the September frosts, made a brilliant contrast to the sober hue of her dress. There she is ! our dear old auntie ! " cried Elsie with eager delight, that brought a flush of pleasure to Harry's face. Miss Stanhope's greetings were characteristic " Elsie ! my darling ! I have you again after all these years ! Mrs. Vanilla too ! how kind ! but you tell me your face is always that. Horace, 186 ELBIE'8 WOMAJSHOOIj. nephew, tlis is good of you ! And Mr. Torville, I'm as glad as the rest to see you. Come in, come in, all of you, and make yourselves at home." " Does Mrs. Schilling still live opposite to you, Aunt Wealthy ?" asked Elsie as they sat about the tea-table an hour later. " Yes, dearie ; though she's lost all commer- cial value," laughed the old lady ; " she's taken a second wife at last ; not Mr. Was though, but a new-comer, Mr. Smearer." " Dauber, auntie," corrected ITarry, gravely. "Well, well, child, the meaning's about the game," returned Miss Stanhope, laughing afresh at her own mistake, "and I'd as soon be the other as one." " Mrs. Dauber wouldn't though," said Harry. " I noticed her face grow as red as a beet the other day when you called her Mrs. Smearer." " She didn't mind being Mrs. Sixpence, I think," said Elsie. " Oh yes, she did ; it nettled her a good deal at first, but she finally got used to it ; after find- ing out how innocent auntie was, and how apt to miscall other names." " But I thought she would never be content with anybody but Mr. Wert." "Well, she lost all hope there, and dropped him at once as soon as Dauber made his ap pearance " ELSIE'S WOMANHOOD. 187 Mr. Dinsmore inquired about the King^ Elsie had done so in a private chat with her aunt, held in her room directly after their arrival. i ' The doctor's as busy as ever, killing peopla all round the country ; he's very successful at it," replied Miss Stanhope; "I've the utmost confidence in his siall." "You are a warm friend of his, I know, aunt," said Mr. Dinsmore, smiling, " but I would advise you not to try to assist his repu- tation among strangers." " Why not, nephew ?" " Lest they should take your words literally, auntie." " Ah, yes, I must be careful how I use my stumbling tongue," she answered with a good- humored smile. " I ought to have always by, somebody to correct my blunders. I've asked HajiT to do me that kindness, and he often does." " It is quite unnecessary with us ; for we all know what you intend to say," remarked Mrs. Travilla, courteously. " Thank you, dear madam," said Miss Stan- hope ; tk I am not at all sensitive about it, fortu- nately, as my nephew knows, and my blunders ifford as much amusement to any one else as tc me ; when I'm made aware of them." " Nettie King is married, papa," said Elgie. "Ah! Lottie also?" 188 ELSIE'S WOMANHOOD. " No, she's at home and will be in, with hei father and mother, this evening," said Aunt Wealthy. " I've been matching to make a hope between her and Harry, but find it's quite useless." "No, we're the best of friends, but don't care to be anything more," remarked the young gentleman, coloring and laughing. " No," said Mr. Tr a villa, " it is said by soma one that two people with hair and eyes of the same color should beware of choosing each other as partners for life." " And I believe it," returned Harry. " Lot- tie and I are too much alike in disposition. I must look for a blue-eyed, fair-haired maiden, whose mental and moral characteristics will sup- ply the deficiencies in mine." " Gray eyes and brown ; that will do very well, won't it ? " said the old lady absently, glancing from Elsie to Mr. Travilla and back again. Both smiled, and Elsie cast down her eyes with a lovely blush, while Mr. Travilla answered cheerily, " We think so, Miss Stanhope." " Call me Aunt Wealthy ; almost everybody does, and you might as well begin now as any time.' "Thank you, I shall avail myself of the privilege in future." The weather was warm for the time of year, ELSIE'S WOMANHOOD. 139 and on lea zing the table the whole partj repaired to the front porch, where Harry quickly provided eveiy one with a seat. u That is a beautiful maple yonder," remarked Mr. Travilla. " Yes, sir/' returned Harry ; " we have a row of them all along the front of the lot ; and as Mrs. Dauber says, they are ' perfectly gor- deous ' in the fall." " The maple is my favorite among the shade leaves," remarked Miss Stanhope, joining in the talk, " from the time it trees out in the spring till the bare become branches in the fall. Through this month and next they're a perpetual feast to the eye." " Aunt, how did you decide in regard to that investment you wrote to consult me about ? " asked Mr. Dinsmore, turning to her. " Oh, I concluded to put in a few hundreds, as you thought it safe, on the principle of not having all my baskets in one egg. fy " Small baskets they would have to be, auntie," Harry remarked quietly. " Yes, my eggs are not so many, but quita enough for an old lady like me." As the evening shadows crept over the land- scape the air began to be chilly, and our friends adjourned to the parlor. Here all was just as when Elsie last saw it ; neat as wax, everything is. place, and each 140 ELSIE'S WOMAJVJJOOI). feather-stuffed cushion beaten up and carefully smoothed to the state of perfect roundness in which Miss Stanhope's soul delighted. Mrs. Travilla, who had heard descriptions oi the room and its appointments from both her son and Elsie, looked about her with interest : upon the old portraits, the cabinet of curiosi- ties, and the wonderful sampler worked by Miss Wealthy^ grandmother. She examined with curiosity the rich embroidery of the chair cushions, but preferred a seat upon the sofa. " Dr. and Mrs. King and Miss Lottie I" an- nounced Simon's voice from the door-way, and the three entered. Lively, cordial greetings followed, especially on the part of the two young girls. Mrs. Tra- villa was introduced, and all settled themselves for achat ; Lottie and Elsie, of course, managing to find seats side by side. " You dearest girl, you have only changed by growing more beautiful than ever," cried Lottie, squeezing Elsie's hand which she still held, and gazing admiringly into her face- Elsie laughed low and musically. " Precisely what I was thinking of you, Lot- ie. It must be your own fault that you are still single. But we won't waste time in nattering each other, when we have so much to say that ub better worth while." ELSIE' 8 WOMANHOOD. 143 " No, surely; Aunt Wealth} has told me of your engagement." "That was right ; it is no secret, and should not be from you if it were from others. Lottie, I want you to be one of my bridesmaids. We're going to carry Aunt Wealthy off to spend the winter with us, and I shall not be content unless I can do the same by you." " A winter in the ( sunny South ! ' and with you ; how delightful ! you dear, kind creature, to think of it, and to ask me. Ah, if I only could ! " "I think you can ; though of course I know your father and mother must be consulted ; and if you come, you will grant my request ? " "Yes, yes indeed ! gladly." Aunt Chloe, always making herself useful wherever she went, was passing around the room with a pile of plates, Phillis following with cakes and confections, while Simon brought in a waiter with saucers and spoons, and two large moulds of ice-cream. "Will you help the cream, Harry?" said Miss Stanhope. " There are two kinds, you see, travilla and melon. Ask Mrs. Vanilla which she'll have ; or if she'll take both." " Mrs. Traviila, may I have the pleasure of helping you to ice-cream ? " he asked. " There are two kinds, vanilla and lemon. Let me give you both." " If you please," she answered, with a slightly 142 ELSIE'S WOMANHOOD. amused look ; for though Aunt Wealthy had spoken in an undertone, the words had reached her ear. " Which will you have, dearies ? " said the old lady, drawing near the young girls' corner, " travilla cream or melon ? " " Lemon for me, if you please, Aunt Wealthy. * replied Lottie. "And I will take Travilla," Elsie said, low and mischieyously, and with a merry twinkle in her eye. " But you haye no cake ! your plate is quite empty and useless, " exclaimed the aunt. " Hor- ace," turning toward her nephew, who was chat- ting with the doctor at the other side of the room, " some of this cake is yery plain ; you don't object to Elsie eating a little of it ? " " She is quite grown up now, aunt, and can judge for herself in such matters," he answered smiling, then turned to finish what he had been saying to the doctor. " You will haye some then, dear, won't you ? " Miss Stanhope inquired in her most coaxing tone. "A yery small slice of this sponge cake, if you please, auntie." " How young Mr. Trayilla looks," remarked Lottie, " younger I think, than he did four years ago. Happiness, I presume ; it's said to haye that effect. I believe I was vexed when 1 first heard you were engaged to him, because I thought he ELSIE'S WOMANHOOD. 14& was too old ; but really he doesn't look so ; a man should be considerably older than his wife, that she may find it easier to look up to him ; and he know the better how to take care of her.* " I would not have him a day younger, except that he would like to be nearer my age, or dif- ferent in any way from what he is," Elsie said, her eyes involuntarily turning in Mr. Travilla'e direction. They met the ardent gaze of his. Both smiled, and rising he crossed the room and joined them. They had a half hour of lively chat together, then Mrs. King rose to take leave. Mr. Travilla moved away to speak to the doctor, and Lottie seized the opportunity to whisper to her friend, " He's just splendid, Elsie ! I don't wonder you look so happy, or that he secured your hand and heart after they had been refused to dukes and lords. You see Aunt Wealthy has been telling me all about your conquests in Europe," she added, in answer to Elsie's look of surprise. "I am, indeed, very happy, Lottie," Elsie replied in the same low tone, " I know Mr. Tra- villa so thoroughly, and have not more perfect confidence in papa's goodness and love to me, than in his. It is a very restful thing to have such a friend." Dr. King's circumstances had greatly im* proved in the last four years, so that he was quite LU ELSIE'S WOMANHOOD. able to give Lottie the pleasure of accepting Elsie J s invitation^ and at once gave his cordial consent. Mrs, King at first objected that the two weeks of onr friends' intended stay in Lansdale would not give sufficient time for the necessary additions to Lottie's wardrobe ; but this difficulty was over- come by a suggestion from Elsie. She would spend two or three weeks in Philadelphia, attend- ing to the purchasing and making up of her trousseau, she said, and Lottie's dresses could be bought and made at the same time and place. The two weeks allotted to Lansdale of course passed very rapidly ; especially to Harry, to whom the society of these new-found relatives was a great pleasure, and who on their departure would be left behind, with only Phillis for his house- keeper. The latter received so many charges from Aunt Wealthy in regard to careful attention to " Mr. Harry's " health and comfort, that at length she grew indignant, and protested that she loved " Mr. Harry as if he was her own child — didn't she nuss him when he was a little feller ? and there was no 'casion for missus to worry an 5 fret as if she was leavin' him to a stranger. " It was not for want of a cordial invitation to both the Oaks and Ion that Harry was left behind ; but business required his presence at home, and he could only promise himself a week's /"">liday at the time of the wedding. <%ter CW% "Bring flowers, fresh flowers for the bride to wear ; They were born to blush in her ehining hair ; She's iearing the home of her childhood's mirth J She hath bid farewell to her father' e hearth ; Her place is now by another's eide ; Bring flowers for the locks of the fair young bride," — MBB. H23L42J8. A faie October day is waning, and as the shadows deepen and the stars shine out here and there in the darkening sky, the grounds at the Oaks glitter with colored lamps, swinging from the branches of the trees that shade the long green alleys, and dependent from arches wreathed with flowers. In doors and out every- thing wears a festive look ; almost the whole house is thrown open to the guests who will presently come thronging to it from nearly every plantation for miles around. The grand wedding has been talked of, pre- pared for, and looked forward to for months past, and few, if any, favored with an invitation, will willingly stay away. The spacious entrance nail is brilliantly 146 ELSIE'S WOMANHOOD. lighted, and on either hand wide-open doors give admission to long suites of richly, tastefully furnished rooms, beautiful with rare statuary, paintings, articles of vertu, and flowera scat- tered everywhere, in bouquets, wreaths, festoons, filling the air with their delicious fragrance. These apartments, waiting for the guests, are almost entirely deserted ; but in Elsie's dressing- room a bevy of gay young girls, in white tarletan and with flowers in their elaborately dressed hair, are laughing and chatting merrily, and now and then offering a suggestion to Aunt Chloe and Dinah, whose busy hands are arrang- ing their young mistress for her bridal. " Lovely!" "Charming!" Perfect!" the girls exclaim in delighted, admiring chorus, as the tirewomen having completed their labors, Elsie stands before them in a dress of the richest white satin, with an overskirt of point lace, a veil of the same, enveloping her slender figure like an airy cloud, or morning mist, reaching from the freshly gathered orange blossoms wreathed in the shining hair to the tiny white satin slipper just peeping from beneath the rich folds of the dress. Flowers are her only orna^ ment to-night, and truly she needs no other. " Perfect ! nothing superfluous, nothing wanting," says Lottie King. Rose, looking almost like a young girl herself, so sweet and fair in her beautiful evening dress, ELSIE'S WOMANHOOD. 141 came in at that instant to see if all was right is the bride's attire. Her eyes grew misty while she gazed, her heart swelling with a strange mixture of emotions : love, joy, pride, and a touch of sadness at the thought of the partial loss that night was to bring to her beloved husband and herself. " Am I all right, mamma ? " asked Elsie. "I can see nothing amiss," Rose answered, with a slight tremble in her voice. "My dar- ling, I never saw you so wondrously sweet and fair,'* she whispered, adjusting a fold of the drapeiy. " You are very happy ? " " Yery, mamma dear : yet a trifle sad too. But that is a secret between you and me. Ho^ beautiful you are to-night." ' ' Ah, dear child, quite ready, and the loveh« est bride that ever I saw, from the sole of your head to the crown of your foot," said a silvery voice, as a quaint little figure came softly in and stood at Mrs. Dinsmore's side — "no, I mean from the crown of your foot to the solo of your head. Ah, funerals are almost as sad as wed- dings. I don't know how people can ever teol like dancing at them." " Well, auntie dear, there'll be no dancing at mine," said Elsie, smiling slightly. "I must go and be ready to receive on? guests," said Eose, hearing the rumble of car- liage wheels. " Elsie, dear child," she whispered 3 148 ELSIE'S WOMANHOOD. * keep calm. You can have no doubts or fears in putting your future in — " " No, no, mamma, not the slightest, " and the fair face grew radiant. As Rose passed out at one door, Miss Stanhope following, with a parting injunction to the bride not to grow frightened or nervous, Mr. Dinsmore entered by another. He stood a moment silently gazing upon his lovely daughter ; then a slight motion of his hand sent all others from the room, the brides- maids passing into the boudoir, where the groom and his attendants were already assembled, the tirewomen vanishing by a door on the opposite side. " My darling ! " murmured the father, in low, half tremulous accents, putting his arm about the slender waist, " my beautiful darling ! how can I give you to another ? " and again and again his lips were pressed to hers in long, passionate kisses. "Papa, please don't make me cry," she pleaded, the soft eyes lifted to his, filled almost to overflowing. " No, no, I must not," he said, hastily taking out his handkerchief and wiping away the tears before they fell. " It is shamefully selfish in me to come and disturb your mind thus just now." " No, papa, no, no ; I will not have you say that Thank you for coming. It would have ELSIE'S WOMANHOOD. 14* hurt me had you stayed away. But yon would not have things different now if you could ? ha^ no desire to." " No, daughter, no ; yet, unreasonable as it is, the thought will come, bringing sadness with it, that to-night you resign my name, and my house ceases to be your only home." " Papa, I shall never resign the name dear to me because inherited from you : I shall only add to it ; your house shall always be one of my dear homes, and I shall be your own, own daughter, your own child, as truly as I ever have been. Is it not so?" "Yes, yes, my precious little comforter." "And you are not going to give me away — ah, papa, I could never bear that any more than you ; you are taking a partner in the concern," she added with playful tenderness, smiling archly through gathering tears. Again he wiped them hastily away. "Did ever father have such a dear daughter ? " he said, gazing fondly down into the sweet face. " I ought to be the happiest of men. I believe I am—" " Except one," exclaimed a joyous voice, at; sound of which Elsie's eyes brightened and the color deepened on her cheek. "May I come in ? " "Yes, Travilla," said Mr. Dinsmore ; "yon have now an equal right with me." 160 ELSIE'S WOMANHOOD. Travilla thought his wa3 superior, or would be after the ceremony, but generously refrained from saying so. And had Mr. Dinsniore been questioned on the subject, he could not haye asserted that it had ever occurred to him that Mr. Allison had an equal right with himself in Rose. But few people are entirely consistent. Mr. Travilla drew near the two, still stand- ing together, and regarded his bride with a countenance beaming with love and delight. The sweet eyes sought his questioningly, and meeting his ardent gaze the beautiful face sparkled all over with smiles and blushes. "Does my toilet please you, my friend ?" she asked. " And you, papa ?" " The general effect is charming," said Mr. Travilla ; "but," he added, in low, tender tones saying far more than the words, " I've been able to see nothing else for the dear face that is always that to me." " I can see no flaw in face or attire," Mr. Dins- more said, taking a more critical survey ; " you are altogether pleasing in your doting fathers eyes, my darling. But you must not stand any longer. You will need all your strength for your journey." And he would have led her to a sofa. But she gently declined. "Ah, I am much too fine to sit down just now, my dear, kind father, I should crush my lace badly. So please let me stand. I am not conscious of weariness." ELSIE'S WOMAimOOD, 151 He yielded, saying with a smile. "Thai would be a pity ; for it is very beautiful. And surely you ought to be allowed your own way to- night if ever." "To-night and ever after," whispered the happy groom in the ear of his bride. A loving, trustful look was her only answer, A continued rolling of wheels without, and buzz of yoices coming from veranda, hall, and reception rooms, could now be heard. " The house must be filling fast," saia Mr. Dinsmore, "and as host I should be preseat to receive and welcome my guests, Travilia," and his voice trembled slightly, as he took Elsie's right hand and held it for a moment closely clasped in his ; "I do not fear to trust you with what is to me a greater treasure than ail the gold of California. Cherish my darling as the apple of your eye ; I know you will." He bent down for another silent caress, laid the hand in that of his friend, and left the room, " And you do not fear to trust me, my little friend f " Travilla's tones, too, were tremulous with deep feeling. " I have not the shadow of a fear," she answered, her eyes meeting his w.fch $n earnest, childlike confidence. " Bless you for those words, dearest," he axl'\ ; M God helping me you never shall have cause? to regret them." A door opened, and a handsome, dark eyed 153 ELSIE'S WOMANHOOD. hoy, a miniature likeness of his father, cam* hurrying in. " Elsie ! Papa said I might come and see how beautiful you are ! " he cried, as if resolutely mastering some strong emotion, " but I'm not to say anything to make you cry. I'm not to hug you hard and spoil your dress. Oh, but you do look like an angel, only without the wings. Mr. Travilla, you'll be good, good to her, won't you ? " and the voice almost broke down. "I will, indeed, Horace; you may be sure of that. And you needn't feel as if you are losing her , she'll be back again in a few weeks, please G-od." " But not to live at home any more ! " he cried impetuously. " No, no, I wasn't to say that, I — " "Come here and kiss me, my dear little brother," Elsie said tenderly ; " and you shall hug me, too, as hard as you like, before I go." He was not slow to accept the invitation, and evidently had a hard struggle with himseL to refrain from giving the forbidden hug. " You may hug me instead, Horace, if you like," said Mr. Travilla ; "you know we're very fond of each other, and are going to be brothers now." " Yes, that I will, for I do like you ever so much," cried the boy, springing into the arm* held out to him, and receiving and returning a warm embrace, while the sister looked on with eyes glistening with pleasure ELSIE'S WOMANHOOD. 163 "Now, in a few minutes Fll become yonr brother Edward ; and that's what I want you to call me in future. Will you do it ? " "Yes, sir ; if papa doesn't forbid me." A light tap at the door leading into the bou- doir, and Walter put in his head. " The com- pany, the clergyman, and the hour have come. Are the bride and groom ready ? " "Yes." Eeleasing- the child, Mr. Trayilla drew Elsie's hand within his arm. For an instant he bent his eyes with earnest, questioning gaze upon her face. It wore an expression that touched him to the heart, so perfectly trustful, so calmly, peace- fully happy, yet with a deep tender solemnity mingling with and subduing her joy. The soft eyes were misty with unshed tears as she lifted them to his. " It is for life," she whispered ; " and I am but young and foolish ; shall you never regret ? " "Never, never; unless you grow weary of your choice." The answering smile was very sweet and con- fiding. " I have not chosen lightly, and do not fear because it is for life," was its unspoken language. And truly it was no nasty, ill-considered step she was taking, but one that had been calmly, thoughtfully pondered in many an hour of soli- tude and communion with that unseen Friend 7* 154 ELBIE'S WOMANHOOD, whom from earliest youth she had acknowledge? in all her ways, and who had, according to His promise, directed her paths. There was no ex- citement, no nervous tremor, about her then 01 during the short ceremony that made them no more twain but one flesh. So absorbed was she in the importance and solemnity of the act she was performing, that little room *us left for thought of anything else — her personal appear- ance, or the hundreds of pairs of eyes fixed upon her ; even her father's presence, and the emo- tions swelling in his breast were for the time for- gotten. Many marked the rapt expression of her face, and the clear and distinct though low tones of the sweet voice as she pledged herself to "love, honor, and obey." Mr. Travilla's promise " to love, honor, and cherish to life's end," was given no less earnestly and emphatically. The deed was done ; and relatives and friends gathered about them with kindly salutations and good wishes. Mr. Dinsmore was the first to salute the bride. " God bless and keep you, my daugh- ter," were his tenderly whispered words. ^Dear, dear papa," was all she said in response, but her eyes spoke volumes. " I am yours still, your very own, and glad it is so, 55 they said. Then came Rose with her tender, silent caress, half -sorrowful, half -joyful, and Mrs. T#- ELSIE'S WOMANHOOD. 155 villa with her altogether joyous salutation, " My dear daughter, may your cup of happiness be 8Ter filled to overflowing ; " while Mr. Dinsmore to hide his emotion turned jocosely to Travilla with a hearty shake of the hand, and " I wish yon joy, my son." "Thank you, father," returned the groom gravely, but with a twinkle of merriment in his eye. Aunt Wealthy, standing close by awaiting her turn to greet the bride, shook her head at her nephew. " Ah, you are quite too old for that, Horace. Mr. Vanilla, I wish you joy ; but what am I to call you now ? " " Edward, if you please, Aunt Wealthy." " Ah, yes, that will do nicely ; it's a good name — so easily forgotten. Elsie, dearie, you went through it brave as a lion. May you never wish you'd lived your lane like your auld auntie." " As if single blessedness could ever be real blessedness 1 " sneered Enna, coming up just in time to catch the last words. " Our feelings change as we grow older," returned Miss Stanhope, in her gentle, refined tones, "and we come to look upon quiet and freedom from care as very desirable things." " And I venture to say that old age is not likely to find Mrs. Percival so happy and con- tented as is my dear old maiden aunt," remarked Mr. Dinsmore. 156 ELSIE'S WOMANHOOD. " Yet we will hope it may, papa," said Elsie, receiving Enna's salutaticn with kindly warmth. But the list of relatives, near connections, and and intimate friends, is too long for particular mention of each. All the Dinsmores were there, both married and single ; also most of the Alli- sons. Harold had not come with the others, nor had he either accepted or rejected the invitation. On first raising her eye3 upon the conclusion of the ceremony, had Elsie really seen, far back in the shadow of the door-way, a face white, rigid, hopeless with misery as his when last they met and parted ? She could not tell ; for if really there, it vanished instantly. " Did Harold come ? " she asked of Richard when he came to salute the bride and groom. " I think not ; I haven't seen him, I can't think what's come over the lad to be so neglect- ful of his privileges." Harry Duncan was there, too, hanging upon the smiles of merry, saucy, blue-eyed May Alli- son ; while her brother Richard seemed equally enamored with the brunette beauty and spright- liness of Lottie King. Stiffness and constraint found no place among the guests, after the event of the evening was over. In the great dining-room a sumptuous ban- quet was laid ; and thither, after a time, gue#& and entertainers repaired. ELSIE'S WOMANHOOD. 15? The table sparkled with cut-glass, rare and costly china, and solid silver and gold plate. Every delicacy from far and near was to be found upon it ; nothing wanting that the most fastidious could desire, or the most lavish expen- diture furnish. Lovely, fragrant flowers were? there also in the utmost profusion, decorating the board, festooning the windows and door- ways, in bouquets upon the mantels and antique stands, scattered here and there through the apartment, filliug the air with their perfume ; while a distant and unseen band discoursed sweetest music in soft, delicious strains. The weather was warmer far than at thai season in our northern clime, the outside air balmy and delightful, and through the wide- open doors and windows glimpses might be caught of the beautiful grounds, lighted here and there by a star-like lamp shining out among the foliage. Silent and deserted they had been all the earlier part of the evening, but now group after group, as they left the bountiful board, wandered into their green alleys and gay par- terres ; low, musical tones, light laughter, and merry jests floating out upon the quiet night adr and waking the echoes of the hills. But the bride retired to her own apartments, where white satin, veil, and orange blossoms, were quickly exchanged for an elegant travelling dress, scarcely less becoming to her rare beauty. 158 EL8IE'8 WOMANHOOD. She reappeared in the library, Thich had not been thrown open to the guests, but where the relations and bridesmaids were gathered for the final good-by. Mr. Dinsmore's family carriage, roomy, easy- rolling, and softly cushioned, stood at the door upon the drive, its spirited grey horses pawing the ground with impatience to be gone. It would carry the bride and groom — and a less pre- tentious vehicle their servants — in two hours to the seaport where they were to take the steamer for New Orleans ; for their honey-moon was to be spent at Viamede, Elsie still adhering to the plan of a year ago. Her adieus were gayly given to one and an- other, beginning with those least dear ; very very affectionately to Mrs. Travilla, Aunt Wealthy, Rose, and the little Horace (the sleeping Rose- bud had already been softly kissed in her crib). Her idolized father only remained ; and now all her gayety forsook her, all her calmness gave way, and clinging about his neck, " Papa, papa, oh papa ! " she cried, with a burst of tears and iobs. ** Holy and pore are tbe drops that fill, When the young bride go** from her father's hall ; She goes onto lore yet untried and new— She parti from lore which heth §tiU been true.** it was his turn now to comfort her, u Dar- ling daughter," he said, caressing her witfc EL81L 8 WOMANHOOD, 15t exceeding tenderness, " we do not part for long. Should it please God to spare our lives, I shall have my precious one in my arms in a few short weeks. Meantime we can have a little talk on paper every day. Shall we not ? " " Yes, yes, dear, dear, precious father." Mr. Tra villa stood hy with a face full of com- passionate tenderness. Putting one hand into her father's, Elsie turned, gave him the other, and together they led her to the carriage and placed her in it. There was a hearty, lingering hand-shaking between the two gentlemen. Mr. Travilla took his seat by Elsie's side, and amid a chorus of good-bys they were whirled rapidly away. " Cheer up, my dear," said Rosa, leaning affectionately on her husband's arm ; "it is alto- gether addition and not subtraction ; you have not lost a daughter but gained a son." " These rooms tell a different tale," he an- swered with a sigh. " How desolate they eeenu But this is no time for the indulgence of sad ness. We must return to our guests, and see that all goes merry as a marriage bell with them till the last has taken his departure," "My bride, My wife, my life. O we will walk this world Yok'd in all exercise of noble aim And so through those dark gates across the wild That no man knows." — Trf—vsOBfi Psncosss. Elsie's tears were falling fast, but an arm as strong and kind as her father's stole quietly about her, a hand as gentle and tender as a woman's drew the weary head to a resting-place on her husband's shoulder, smoothed back the hair from the heated brow, and wiped away the falling drops. " My wife ! my own precious little wife I " How the word, the tone, thrilled her ! her very heart leaped for joy through all the pain of parting from one scarcely less dear. " My hus- band," she murmured, low and shyly — it seemed so strange to call him that, so almost bold and forward — "my dear, kind friend, to be neither hurt nor angry at my foolish weeping." " Not foolish, dear one, but perfectly natural snd right I understand it ; I who know so well ELSIE'S WOMANHOOD. 161 what your father has been to you these many years." "Father and mother both." "Yes; tutor, friend, companion, confidant, everything. I know, dear little wife, that you are sacrificing much for me, even though the separation will be but partial. And how I love you for it, and for all you are to me, God only knows." The tears had ceased to flow ; love, joy, and thankfulness were regaining their ascendancy in the heart of the youthful bride ; she became again calmly, serenely happy. The journey was accomplished without acci- dent. They were favored with warm, bright days, clear, starlit nights ; and on as lovely an afternoon as was ever known in that delicious clime, reached Viamede. Great preparations had been made for their reception ; banners were streaming, and flags flying from balconies and tree-tops. Mr. Mason met them at the pier with a face beaming with delight ; Spriggs with a stiff bow. A gun was fired and a dram began to beat as they stepped ashore ; two pretty mulatto girls scattered flow- ers in their path, and passing under a grand triumphal ar?h they presently found themselvea between two long rows of smiling, bowing ne- groes, whose fervent ejaculations: " God bless our *lear young missus an' her husband ! " " God bless 16% ELSIE'S WOMANHOOD. yon, inassa an' missus!" "Welcome home P " Welcome to Yiamede ! " " We've not forgot you, Miss Elsie ; you's as welcome as de day- light ! " affected our tender-hearted heroine almost to tears. She had a kind word for each, remembering all their names, and inquiring after their "mis- eries " ; every one was permitted to take her small white hand, many of them kissing it with fervent affection. They were introduced to their " new master," too (that was what she called him), and shaken hands with by him in a cordial, inter- ested way that won their hearts at once. Aunt Phillis was in her glory, serving up a feast the preparation of which had exhausted the united skill of both Aunt Sally and herself. Their efforts were duly appreciated and praised, the viands evidently greatly enjoyed, all to their intense delight. Mr. Mason was invited to partake with the bride and groom, and assigned the seat of honor at Mr. Travilla's right hand. Elsie presided over the tea-urn with the same gentle dignity and grace as when her father occupied the chair at the opposite end of the table, now filled by her husband. Her travelling dress had been exchanged for one of simple white, and there were white flowers in her hair and at her throat Very sweet and charming she looked, not only ta the eyes of her husband, who seemed to find ELSIE' is WOMANHOOD, 163 her fair face a perpetual feast, but in those of all others who saw her. On leaving the table they repaired to the library, where Mr. Mason gave a report of the condition of the people and his work among them, also assuring Mrs. Trayilla that Spriggs had. carefully carried out her wishes, that the prospect for the crops was fine, and everything on the estate in excellent order. She expressed her gratification, appealing to Mr. Trayilla for his approval, which was cor- dially given ; said she had brought a little gift for each of the people, and desired they should be sent up to the house about sunset the next evening to receive it. The chaplain promised that her order should be attended to, then retired, leaving husband and wife alone together. " All very satisfactory, my little friend, was it not ? " said Mr. Travilla. " Yes, sir, very. I'm so glad to have secured such a man as Mr. Mason to look after the wel- fare of these poor helpless creatures. And you like the house, Mr. Travilla, do you not ? " " Very much, so far as I have seen it. Thia is a beautiful room, and the dining-room pleased me equally well. n " Ah, I am eager to show you all 1 " she cried, rising quickly and laying her hand on the belt 164 ELSIE'S WOMANHOOD. rope. " Stay, little wife, not to-night," he said, "you are too much fatigued." She glided to the back of the easy chair in ■tfhich he sat, and leaning over him, said laugh- ingly, " I'm not conscious of being fatigued, but I have promised to obey and — " "Hush, hush I" he said flushing, "I meant to have that left out ; and did I not tell you you were to have your own way that night and ever after ? You've already done enough of obey- ing to last you a life-time. But please come round where I can see you better." Then, as she stepped to his side, he threw an arm about her and drew her to his knee. " But it wasn't left ">ut," she said, shyly returning his fond caress; "I promised and must keep my word." " Ah, but if you can't, you can't ; how will you obey when you get no orders ? " " So you don't mearj to give me any ? " " No, indeed ; I'm your husband, your friend, your protector, your lover, but not your master." " Now, Mr. Travilla— " " I asked you to call me Edward." " But it seems so disrespectful." " More so than to remind me of the disparity of our years ? or than to disregard my earnest wish ? Then I think I'll have to require the keeping of the promise in this one thing. Say ELSIE'S WOMANHOOD. 165 Edward, little wife, and never again call me Mr, Tra villa when we are alone." " Well, Edward, I will try to obey ; and if I use the wrong word through forgetfulness you must please excuse it. But ah, I remember papa would say that was no excuse." " But I shall not be so strict — unless you for- get too often. I have sometimes thought my friend too hard with his tender-hearted, sensitive little daughter." " Don't blame him — my dear, dear father ! " she said, low and tremulously, her face growing grave and almost sad for the moment. "He was very strict, it is true, but none too strict in the matter of requiring prompt and implicit obedience, and oh, so kind, so loving, so tender, so sympathizing. I could, and did go to him with every little childish joy and sorrow, every trouble, vexation, and perplexity ; always sure of sympathy, and help, too, if needed. Never once did he repulse me, or show himself an unin- terested listener. "He would take me on his knee, hear all I had to say, clasp me close to his heart, caress me, call me pet names, joy, sorrow with, or counsel me as the case required, and bid me always come freely to him so, a-ssuring me that nothing which concerned me, one way or another, was too trivial to interest him, and he would be glad to know I had not a thought or feeling concealed from 166 ELSIE'S WOMANHOOD. him. 1 doubt if even you, my friend, have orer known all that papa has been and is to me : father, mother, everything — but husband," she added with a blush and smile, as her eyes met the kindly, tender look in his. "Ah, that is my blessed privilege," he whis- pered, drawing her closer to him. " My wife, my own precious little wife ! God keep me from ever being less tender, loving, sympathizing to you than your father has been." "I do not fear it, my husband. Oh, waa ever woman so blessed with love as I ! Daugh- ter, and wife ! they are the sweetest of all names when addressed to me by papa's lips and yours." " I ought not to find fault with his training, seeing what credit you do it. However, you seemed to me as near perfection as possible before he began. Ah, my little friend, for how many years I loved you with scarcely a hope it would ever be returned in the way I wished. Indeed I can hardly yet believe fully in my own happi- ness," he concluded with a joyous laugh. The next day Elsie had the pleasure of showing her husband over the house first, and then the estate. Their life at Yiamede, for the few weeks of their stay, seemed much like a repetition of her yisit there the year before with her father. They took the same rides, walks, and drives ; glided over the clear waters of the bayou in the same boat ; sought out each spot of beauty or interest ELSIE'S WOMANHOOD. 18? he had shown her ; were, if possible, even mors constantly together, reading, writing, or engaged with music in library or drawing-room, seated side by side on veranda or lawn enjoying conver- sation, book or periodical ; or, it might be, silently musing, hand in hand, by the soft moonlight that lent such a witchery to the lovely landscape, A pleaaanter honeymoon could hardly have been devised. In one thing, however, they were disap- pointed : they had hoped to be left entirely to each other ; but it was impossiple to conceal their presence at Yiamede from the hospitable neigh- bors, and calls and invitations had to be received and returned. But, both being eminently fitted to shine in society, and each proud to display the other, this state of things did not, after all, so greatly interfere with their enjoyment. In fact, so delightful did they find their life in that lovely country that they lingered week after week till nearly six had slipped away, and letters from home began to be urgent for their return. Mr. Dinsmore was wearying for his daughter, Mrs. TraT ilia for her son, and scarcely leas for the daughter so long vainly hoped for. Every day a servant was despatched to the nearest post-office with their mail, generally returning as full handed as he went. Mr. Dinsmore's letters were, as he had promised, daily, and never left unanswered. The old love 168 ELSIE'S WOMANHOOD. was not, could not be forgotten in the now. Elsie was no less a daughter because she had become a wife ; but Edward was always a sharer in her enjoyment, and she in his. They were sitting on the veranda one morn ing when Uncle Ben rode up and handed the mail-box to his master. Mr. Travilla hastened to open it, gave Elsie her letters and began the perusal of his own. A softly breathed sigh called his attention to her. " What is it, little wife ?" he asked ; "youi face is grave almost to sadness." "I was thinking," she answered, with her eye still upon hor father's letter open in her hand. " Papa says," and she read aloud from the sheet, "How long you are lingering in Viamede. When will you return ? Tell Travilla I am longing for a sight of the dear face his eyes are feasting upon, and he must remember his pro- mise not to part us. " I am writing in your boudoir. I have been thinking of the time (it seems but yesterday) when I had you here a little girl, sitting on my knee reciting your lessons or listening with almost rapt attention to my remarks and expla- nations. Never before had tutor so dear, sweet, and interesting a scholar ! " •'A fond fathers partiality," she remarked, looking up with a smile and blush, " But never, ELSIE'S WOMANHOOD 189 I am sure, was such another tutor ; his lucid explanations, intense interest in the subject and his pupil, apt illustrations, and fund of informa- tion constantly opened up to me, made my les- sons a delight." " He has made you wonderfully well in- formed and thorough," said her husband. She colored with pleasure. " Such words are yery sweet, coming from your lips. You appreciate papa." " Yes, indeed, and his daughter too, I hope," he answered, smiling fondly upon her. " Yea, your father and I hare been like brothers since we were little fellows. It seems absurd to think of him in any other relation." "But what about going home ? isn't it time, as papa thinks ? " "That you shall decide, machere; our life here has been very delightful to me, and to you also, I hope." " Very, if we had your mother and papa and mamma and the children here, I should like to stay all winter. But as it is I think we ought to return soon." He assented, and after a little more consultation they decided to go soon — not later than the middle of the next week, but the day was not set 8 CJptpto Jrartaijj. ** The low reede bent by the streamlet's side, And hille to the thunder peal replied ; Th« lightning burst on ita fearful way ^Thile the heavens were lit in its red array. ' — Willis Gatlobo Cxaks. "Thither, full fraught with rnischieyoua revenge Accurs'd, and in a cursed hour he hies." —Hilton's Pasadiss Lost. They were alone that evening, and retired earlier than usual. They had been quietb sleep ing for some time when Elsie was wakened by a sudden gust of wind that swept round the house, rattling doors and windows ; then followed the roll and crash of thunder, peal on peal, accom- panied with vivid flashes of lightning. Elsie was not timid in regard to thunder and lightning ; she knew so well that they were entirely under the control of her Eather, without whom not a hair of her head could perish ; she lay listening to tha war of the elements, thinking of the words of the Psalmist, " The clouds poured out water : tho skies sent out a sound ; thine arrows also went abroad. The voice of ELBIE'8 WOMANHOOD. 172 Ihy thunder was in the heaven ; the lightning! lightened the world, the earth trembled and shook." Bat another sound startled her. Surely she heard some stealthy step on the veranda upon which the windows of the room opened (long win- dows reaching from the floor almost to the ceil- ing), and then a hand at work with the fastenings of the shutters of the one farthest from the bed. Her husband lay sleeping by her side. She half raised herself in the bed, put her lips to his ear, and shaking him slightly, whispered, " Edward, some one is trying to get in at the window ! " He was wide awake in an instant, raised him- self and while listening intently took a loaded revolver from under his pillow and cocked it ready for use. " Lie down, darling," he whispered ; " it will be safer, and should the villain get in, this Will soon settle him, I think." " Don't kill him, if you can save yourself without," she answered, in the same low tone and with a shudder. "No ; if I could see, I should aim for his right arm." A moment of silent waiting, the slight sound of the burglar's tool faintly heard amid the noise of the storm, then the shutter flew open, a man gtepped in ; at that instant a vivid flash of light- 172 ELSlE'b WOMANHOOD. ning showed the three to each other, <*nd the men fired simultaneously. A heavy, rolling crash of thunder follow&u close upon the sharp crack of the revolvers ; th€ robber's pistol fell with a loud thump upon the floor and he turned and fled along the veranda, this time moving with more haste than caution, They distinctly heard the flying footsteps. "I must have hit him," said Mr. Travilla, " Dearest, you are not hurt ? " " No, no ; but you ? " " Have escaped also, thank God," he added, with earnest solemnity. Elsie, springing to the bell-rope, sent peal after peal resounding through the house. "He must be pursued, if possible ! " she cried ; " foi oh, Edward, your life is in danger as long as he is at large. You recognized him ? " ' ' Yes, Tom Jackson ; I thought him safe in prison at the North ; but probably he has been bailed out ; perhaps by one of his own gang ; fox bo are the ends of justice often defeated." He was hurrying on his clothes as he spoke. Elsie had hastily donned dressing-gown and slip- pers, and now struck a light. Steps and voices were heard in the hall with out, while Aunt Chloe coming in from the othej side, asked in tones tremulois with affright, " What's de matter ? what's de matter, darkV ? is you hurted ? " ELSIE'S WOMAA'HOOJJ. 173 " No, mammy ; but there was a burglar here a moment since," said Elsie. "He and Mr. TrayiUa fired at each other, and he must be pur- sued instantly. Send Uncle Joe to rouse Mr, Spriggs and the boys, and go after him with all speed." Meantime Mr. Mason was knocking at the door opening into the hall, asking what was wrong and offering his services; a number of negro men's voices adding, " Massa and missus, we's all heyah and ready to fight for ye." Mr. Trayilla opened the door, briefly ex- plained what had happened, and repeated Elsie's order for an immediate and hot pursuit. " I myself will head it," he was adding, when she interposed. "No, no, no, my husband, surely you will not think of it ; he may kill you yet. Or he might return from another direction, and what could I do with only the women to help me ? Oh, Edward, don't go ! don't leave me ! " And she clung to him trembling and with tears in the soft, entreating eyes. "No, dearest, you are right. I will stay here tc protect you, and Spriggs may lead the boys," he answered, throwing an arm about her. " I think I wounded the fellow," he added to Mr. Mason. " Here, Aunt Chloe, bring the light nearer." Yes, there lay a heavy revolver, and beside it 174 ELBIE'8 WOMANHOOD. a pool of blood on the carpet where .&e villain had stood , and there was a bloody trail all along the veranda where he had run, and on the rail- ing and pillar by which he had swung himself to the ground ; indeed, they could track him by it for some distance over the lawn, where the trees kept the ground partially dry ; but beyond that the rain coming down in sheets, had helped the fugitive by washing away the tell-tale stains. Elsie shuddering and turning pale and faint at the horrible sight, ordered an im m ediate and thorough cleansing of both carpet and veranda. "Dere's hot water in de kitchen," said Aunt Phillis. " You, Sal an' Bet, hurry up yah wid a big basin full, an' soap an' sand an* house- cloths. Glad 'nufi dat massa shot dat ole debbil, but Miss Elsie's house not to be denied wid his dirty blood." " Cold watah fust, Aunt Phillis," interposed Chloe, "cold watah fust to take out blood-stain, den de hot after dat." " Mammy knows ; do as she directs," said Elsie, hastily retreating into her dressing-room. " My darling, this has been too much for you," her husband said tenderly, helping her to He down on a sofa. Chloe came hurrying in with a tumbler of cold water in one hand, a bottle of smelling salts \n the other, her dusky face full of concern. Mr. Travilla took the articles from her. ELSIE'S WOMANHOOD. 175 "That is right, but I will attend to your mis- tress," he said in a kindly tone ; " and do you go Bnd prepare a bed for her in one of the rooms on the other side of the hall." " It is hardly worth while, dear," said Elsie ; " I don't think I can sleep again to-night." " Yet perhaps you may ; it is only two o'clock,' ' he said, as the time-piece on the mantel struck the hour, "and at least you may rest a little better than you could here." " And perhaps you may sleep. Yes, mam- my, get the bed ready as soon as you can." " My darling, how pale you are !" Mr. Tra villa said with concern, as he knelt by her side, applying the restoratives. " Do not be alarmed ; I am quite sure the man's right arm is disabled, and therefore the danger is past, for the present at least." She put her arm about his neck and relieved her full heart with a burst of tears. " Pray, praise," she whispered ; "oh, thank the Lord for your narrow escape ; the ball must have passed very near your head ; I heard it whiz over mine and strike the opposite wall," "Yes, it just grazed my hair and carried away a lock, I think. Yes, let ug thank the Lord." And he poured out a short but fervent thanksgiving, to every ^ prd of which her heart said " Amen ! " " Yes, there is a lock gone, sure enough,* 176 ELSIE'S WOMA^JSOOD. she said, stroking his hair caressingly as lie bent over her. " Ah, if we had not lingered so long here, this would not have happened." "Not here, but elsewher; perLsps." "That is true, and no doubt all has been ordered for the best." Aunt Chloe presently returned, with the announcement that the bed was ready ; and they retired for the second time, leaving the house in the care of Uncle Joe and the women servants. It was some time before Elsie could com- pose herself to sleep, but near daybreak she fell into a deep slumber that lasted until long past the usual breakfast hour. Mr. Travilla slept late also, while the vigilant Aunts Chloe and Phillis and Uncle Joe took care that no noise should be made, no intruder allowed access to their vicinity to disturb them. The first news that greeted them on leaving their room, was of the failure of the pursuit after the burglar. He had managed to elude the search, and to their chagrin Spriggs and his party had been obliged to return empty-handed. The servants were the first to tell the tale, then Spriggs came in with a fuller report. " The scoundrel I " he growled ; " how he contrived to do it I can't tell. If we'd had hounds, he couldn't. We've none on the place, but if you say so, I'll borrow — " ELSIE'S WOMANHOOD. 177 u No, no ! Mr. Tra villa, you will not allow It ? " cried Elsie, turning an entreating look upon him. " No, Spriggs, the man must be greatly weakened by the loss of blood, and, unable to defend himself, might be torn to pieces by them before you could prevent it." "Small loss to the rest of the world if ha was," grumbled the overseer. "Yes, but I wouldn't have him die such a death as that ; or hurried into eternity without a moment for repentance." " But might it not be well to have another search?" suggested Elsie. "He had better be given up to justice, even for his own good, than die in the woods of weakness and starvation." " Hands are all so busy with the sugar-cane just now, ma'am, that I don't see how they could be spared," answered Spriggs. "And tell you what, ma'am " — as if struck with a sudden thought — "the rascal must have a confederate that's helped him oif." " Most likely,'* said Mr. Travilla. " Indeed, I think it must be so. And you need give your- self no further anxiety about him, my dear.' ' <%pfer cfifittntl. M Berange at llrat though sweet, Bitter ere long, back on itself recoils. ** — Mn/rox's Pasidwb Loot. At tlie instant of discharging his revolver Jackson felt a sharp stinging pain in his right arm, and it dropped useless at his side. He hoped he had killed both Mr. Trayilla and Elsie ; but, an arrant coward and thus disabled, did not dare to remain a moment to learn with certainty the effect of his shot, but rushing along the veranda, threw himself over the railing, and sliding down a pillar, by the aid of the one hand, and with no little pain and difficulty, made off with all speed across the lawn. But he was bleeding at so fearful a rate that he found himself compelled to pause long enough to improvise a tourniquet by knotting his hand kerchief above the wound, tying it as tightly aa he could with the left hand aided by his teeth. He stooped and felt on the ground in the dark- ness and rain, for a stick, by means of which to tifpiten it still more ; for the bleedKg, though EL&IE'S WOMANHOOD 179 considerably checked, was by no means staunched. But sticks, stones, and every kind of litter, had long been banished thence ; his fingers came in contact with nothing but the smooth, velvety turf, and with a muttered curse, he ros€ and fled again ; for the flashing of lights, the ioud ringing of a bell, peal after peal, and sounds of running feet and many voices in high excited tones, told him there was danger of a quick and hot pursuit. Clearing the lawn, he presently struck into a bridle-path that led to the woods. Here he again paused to search for the much-needed stick, found one suited to his purpose, and by its aid succeeded in decreasing still more the drain upon his life current ; yet could not stop the flow entirely. But sounds of pursuit began to be heard in the distance, and he hastened on again, panting with weakness, pain, and affright. Leaving the path, he plunged deeper into the woods, ran for some distance along the edge of a swamp, and leaping in up to his knees in mud and water, doubled on his track, then turned again, and penetrating farther and farther into the depths of the morass, finally climbed a tree, groaning with the pain the effort cost him, and concealed himself among the branches. His pursuers came up to the spot where he had made his plunge into the water , here they 180 ELSIE'S WOMANHOOD. paused, evidently at fault. He could hear the sound of their footsteps and voices, and judge of their movements by the gleam of the torches many of them carried, Some now took one direction, some another, and he perceived with joy that his stratagem had been at least partially successful. One party, however, soon followed him into the ewamp. He could hear Spriggs urging them on and anathematizing him as " a scoundrel, robber, burglar, murderer, who ought to be swung up to the nearest tree." Every thicket was undergoing a thorough search, heads were thrown back and torches held high that eager blacks eyes might scan the tree-tops, and Jackson began to grow sick with the almost certainty of being taken, as several stout negroes drew nearer and nearer his chosen hiding place. He uttered a low, breathed imprecation upon his useless right arm, and the man whose sure aim had made it so. "But for you," he mut- tered, grinding his teeth, " I'd sell my life dear." But the rain, which had slackened for a time, again poured down in torrents, the torches sput- tered and went out, and the pursuers turned back in haste to gain the firmer soil, where less danger was to be apprehended from alligators, panthers, and poisonous reptiles. The search was kept up &r §ome time longer, ELSIE'S WOMANHOOD. 182 with no light but an occasional flash from the skies ; but finally abandoned, as we have seen. Jackson passed several hours most uncomfort- ably and painfully on his elevated perch, quak* ing with fear of both man and reptile, not daring to come down or to sleep in his precarious posi- tion, or able to do so for the pain of his wound, and growing hour by hour weaker from the bleeding which it was impossible to check entirely. Then his mind was in a state of great disturb- ance. His wound must be dressed, and that gpeedily ; yet how could it be accomplished with- out imperilling life and liberty ? Perhaps he had now two new murders on his hands ; he did not know, but he had at least attempted to take life, and the story would fly on the wings of the wind ; such stories always did. He had been lurking about the neighborhood for days, and had learned that Dr. Balis, an ex- cellent physician and surgeon, lived on a plan- tation, some two or three miles eastward from Viamede. He must contrive a plausible story, and go to him ; at break of day, before the news of the attack on Yiamede would be likely to reach him. It would be a risk, but what better could be done ? He might succeed in quieting the doc- tor's suspicions, and yet make good his escape from the vicinity. The storm had spent itself before the break 182 ELSIE'S WOMANHOOD of day, and descending from his perch with the first faint rays of light that penetrated the gloomy recesses of the swamp, he made his way out of it, slowly and toilsomely, with weary, aching limbs, suffering intensely from the gnawings of hunger and thirst, the pain of his injury, and the fear of being overtaken by the avengers of hi3 inno- cent victims. Truly, as the Bible tells us, " the way of transgressors is hard." The sun was more than an hour high when Dr. Balis, ready to start upon his morning round, and pacing thoughtfully to and fro upon the veranda of his dwelling while waiting for his horse, saw a miserable looking object coming up the avenue : a man almost covered fiom head to foot with blood and mud ; a white handkerchief, also both bloody and muddy, knotted around the right arm, which hung apparently useless at his side. The man reeled as he walked, either from intoxication or weakness and fatigue. The doctor judged the latter, and called to a servant, " Nap, go and help that man into the office. " Then hurrying thither himself, got out lint, bandages, instruments, whatever might be needed for the dressing of a wound. With the assistance of Nap's strong arm, the man tottered in, then sank, half fainting, into a chair. "A glass of wine, Nap, quick !" cried the doctor, sprinkling some water m his patients face, and applying ammonia to his nostrils. ELSIE'S WOMANHOOD. 183 He revived sufficiently to swallow with eagef avidity the wine Nap held to his lips. "Food, for the love of God," he gasped* " I'm starving I " " Bread, meat, coffee, anything that is on the table, Nap," said his master ; " and don't let the grass grow under your feet." Then to the stranger, and taking gentle hold of the wounded limb : "But yon need this flow of blood stanched more than anything else. Yon came to me for surgical aid, of course. Pistol- shot wound, eh ? and a bad one at that." "Yes, I—" " Never mind ; I'll hear your story aftei your arm's dressed and you've had your break- fast. You haven't strength for talk just now." Dr. Balis had his own suspicions as he ripped up the coat sleeve, bared the swollen limb, and carefully dressed the wound ; but kept them to himself. The stranger's clothes, though much soiled and torn in several places by contact with thorns and briers, were of good material, fash- ionable cut, and not old or worn ; his manners were gentlemanly, and his speech was that of an educated man. But all this was no proof that he was not a villain, " Is that mortification ? " asked the sufferer, looking ruefully at the black, swollen hand and fore-arm, and wincing under the doctor's touch as he took up the artery and tied it, 184 ELSIE '8 WOMANHOOD, " No, no ; only the stagnation of the blood." " "Will the limb ever be good for anything again ?" " Oh yes ; neither the bone nor nerve has suffered injury ; the ball has glanced from the bone, passed under the nerve, and cut the hu- meral artery. Your tourniquet has saved you from bleeding to death. 'Tis well you knew enough to apply it. The flesh is much torn where the ball passed out ; but that will heal in time." The doctor's task was done. Nap had set a plate of food within reach of the stranger's left hand, and he was devouring it like a hun- gry wolf. "Now, sir," said the good doctor, when the meal was finished, " I should like to hear how you came by that ugly wound. I can't deny that things look suspicious. I know everybody, high and low, rich and poor, for miles in every direction, and so need no proof that you do not belong to the neighborhood." ' ' No ; a party of us, from New Orleans last, came out to visit this beautiful region. We were roaming through a forest yesterday, looking for game, when I somehow got separated from the rest, lost my way, darkness came on, and wandering hither and thither in the vain effort to find my comrades, tumbling over logs and fallen trees, scratched and torn by brambles. ELSIE'S WOMANHOOD. 185 siniost eaten up by mosquitoes, I thought I was having a dreadful time of it. But worse was to eome ; for I presently found myself in a 3wamp up to my knees in mud and water, and in the pitchy darkness tumbling oyer another fallen tree, struck ray revolver, which I had foolishly been carrying in my coat pocket : it went off and shot me in the arm, as you see. That must have been early in the night ; and what with loss of blood, pain, fatigue, and long fasting, I had but little strength when daylight came and I could see to get out of swamp and woods, and come on here." The doctor listened in silence, his face telling nothing of his thoughts. " A bad business," he said, rising and begin- ning to draw on his gloves. "You are not fit to travel, but are welcome to stay here for the present ; had better lie down on the sofa there and take a nap while I am away visiting my patients. Nap, clean the mud and blood from the gentleman's clothes ; take his boots out and clean them too ; and see that he doesn't want for attention while I am gone. Good morning, sir ; make yourself at home." And the doctor walked out, givuig Nap a slight sign to fol- low him. "Nap," he said, when they were out of ear- shot of the stranger, watch that man and keep him here if possible, till I come back. 186 ELSIE'S WOMANHOOD. "Ye6, 8ah. w Nap went back into the office while the doc- tor mounted and rode away. " Humph/' he said, half aloud, as he cantered briskly along, " took me for a fool, did he ? thought I couldn't tell where the shot went in and where it came out, or where it would go in or out if caused in that way. No, sir, you never gave yourself that wound ; but the question is who did ? and what for ? have you been house- breaking or some other mischief ? " Dr. Balis was travelling in the direction of Viamede, intending to call there too, but having several patients to visit on the way, did not arrive until the late breakfast of its master and mistress was over. They were seated together on the veranda, her hand in his, the other arm thrown lightly about her waist, talking earnestly, and so en- grossed with each other and the subject of their conversation, that they did not at first observe the doctor's approach. Uncle Joe was at work on the lawn, clearing away the leaves and twigs blown down by the storm. " Mornin', Massa Doctah ; did you hejah ds news, sah ? " he said, pulling ofl his hat and making a profound obeisance, as he stepped forward to take the visitor's horse, "No, urcle, what is it P" EL8LS>8 WOMANHOOD. 18? M Burglah, sir, burglah broke in de house las' night, an' fire he revolvah at massa an' Miss Elsie. Miss dem, dough, an' got shot kisself." " Possible ! " cried the doctor in great excite- ment, springing from the saddle and hurrying tip the steps of the veranda. "Ah, doctor, good morning. Glad to see you, sir/' said Mr. Travilla, rising to give the physician a hearty shake of the hand. "Thank you, sir, How are you after your fright ? Mrs. Travilla, you are looking a little pale ; and no wonder. Uncle Joe tells me you had a visit from a burglar last night ? " "A murderer, sir; one whose object was to take my husband's life," Elsie answered with a shudder, and in low, tremulous tones, leaning on Edward's arm and gazing into his face with eyes swimming with tears of love and gratitude. "My wife's also, I fear," Mr. Trayilla said with emotion, fondly stroking her sunny hair. " Indeed ! why this is worse and worse ! But he did not succeed in wounding either of you 9" " No ; his ball passed oyer our heads, grazing mine so closely as to cut off a lock of my hair, But I wounded him, must have cut an artery, I think, from the bloody trail he left behind him." "An artery?" cried the doctor, growing 188 ELSIE'S WOMANHOOD. more and more excited ; " where ? do you know where your hall struck ? " "A flash of lightning showed us to each other and we fired simultaneously, I aiming for his right arm. I do not often miss my aim : we heard his revolver fall to the floor and he fled instantly, leaving it and a trail of hlood be- hind him." " You had him pursued promptly, of course ? " " Yes ; but they did not find him. I expected to see them return with his corpse, thinking he must bleed to death in a very short time. But I presume he had an accomplice who was able to stanch the flow of blood and carry him away. " "No, I don't think he had ; and if I'm not greatly mistaken I dressed his wound in my office this morning, and left him there in charge of my boy Nap, bidding him keep the fellow there, if possible, till I came back. I'd better return at once, lest he should make his escape. Do you know the man ? and can you describe him ? " " I do ; I can," replied Mr. Travilla. " But, my little wife, how you are trembling ! Sit down here, dearest, and lean on me," leading her fco a sofa. " And doctor, take that chair. "The man's name is Tom Jackson ; lie is a noted gambler and forger, has been convicted of manslaughter and other crimes, sent to the peni- tentiary and pardoned out He hates me because ELSIE'S WOMANHOOD. 18S I have exposed his evil deeds, and prevented the carrying out of some of his wicked designs. He has before this threatened both our lives. He is about your height and build, doctor ; can assume the manners and speech of a gentleman ; has dark hair, eyes, and whiskers, regular fea- tures, and but for a sinister look would be very handsome." " It's he and no mistake 1 " cried Dr. Balis, rising in haste. " I must hurry home and pre- vent his escape. Why, it's really dangerous to have him at large. If he wasn't so disabled I'd tremble for the lives of my wife and children. " He trumped up a story to tell me — had his revolver in his coat pocket, get it off in tumbling over a log in the dark, and so shot himself. Of course I knew 'twas a lie, because in that case the ball would have entered from below, at the back of the arm, and come out above, while the reverse was the case." "But how could you tell where it entered or where it passed out, doctor ? " inquired Elsie. " How, Mrs. Travilla ? Why, where it goes in it makes merely a small hole ; you see nothing but a blue mark ; but a much larger opening in passing cut, often tearing the flesh a good deal ; as in this case. " Ah, either he was a fool or thought I was* But good-bv. I shall gallop home as fast as pos- 190 ELSIE' 8 WOMANHOOD. sible and send back word whether I find him there or not." " Don't take the trouble, doctor," said Mr. Trayilla ; " we will mount and follow you at once, to identify him if he is to be found. Shall we not, wife ? " "If you say so, Edward, and are quite sure he cannot harm you now ? " "No danger, Mrs. Travilla," cried the doc- tor, looking back as he rode off. CJapttr J?iitenijj, ** Oft those whose cruelty makes many mourn Do by tiie fires which they first kindle bum." — Eatvl OP 8T!BI*im " A3 crimes do grow, justice should roo»e itself." — JOKtON'3 CATIUNS. Jacksok thought he read suspicion in the doctor's eye as the latter left the office ; also he felt sure the physician would not ride far before hearing of the attack on Viamede, and would speedily come at the truth by putting that and that together ; perhaps return with a party of avengers, and hang him to a tree in the adjacent forest. " I must get out o' this before Fm an hour older," said the scoundrel to himself. " Oh, foi the strength I had yesterday ! " " Why don't you lie down, sah, as Massa Doctah tole ye ? " asked Nap, returning. " Massa always 'spects folks to do prezactly as he tells dem." " Why, Sambo, Fm too dirty to lie on that nice sofa," rephed Jackson, glancing down sX his soiled garments. 193 ELSIE'S WOMANHOOD. " Sambo's not my name, sah," said the negro, drawing himself up with dignity; " I'se Napo- ieon Boningparty George Washington Marquis de Lafayette, an' dey calls me Nap for short. If ye'll take off dat coat, sah, an' dem boots, I'll take 'em out to de kitchen yard an' clean em.' " Thank you ; if you will I'll give you a dollar. And if you'll brush the mud from my pants first, I'll try the sofa ; for I'm nearly dead for sleep and rest." " All right, sah," and Nap went to a closet, brought out a whisk, and using it vigorously upon the pantaloons, soon brushed away the mud, which the sun had made very dry. A few blood stains were left, but there was no help foi that at present. The coat was taken off with some difficulty on account of the wounded arm, then the boots, and Jackson laid himself down on the sofa and closed his eyes. Nap threw the coat over his arm, and taking the boots in the other hand went softly out, closing the door behind him. " Safe 'nuff now, I reckon," he chuckled to himself ; " guess he not trabblo far widout dese." He was hardly gone, however, when Jackson roused himself and forced his weary eyes to unclose. ' As dangerous as to go to sleep when freezing," he muttered. He tosc, stepped to the closet door, and opened it. A pair of boots stood on the floor, a coat ELSIE'S WOMANHOOD. 193 hung on a peg. He helped himself to both, sat down and drew on the boct3, which were a little too large but went on all the more readily for that Now for the coat. It was not new, but by no means shabby. He took out his knife, hastily ripped up the right sleeve and put it om It fitted even better than the boots. Nap had brought a bottle of wine and left it on the office table, forgetting to carry it back to the dining-room. Jackson took it up, and placing it to his mouth drained the last drop. Then putting on his hat, he stole softly from the house and down the avenue. To his great joy a boat was just passing in the direction to take him farther from Yiamede. He signalled it, and was taken aboard. "Been getting Dr. Balis to patch up a wound, eh, stranger ? " said the skipper, glanc- ing at the disabled arm. "Yes;" and Jackson repeated the story already told to the surgeon. The skipper sympathized and advised a rest in the cabin. " Thank you," said Jackson ; "but I'm only going a few miles, when I'll reach a point where, by taking to the woods again, I'll be likely to find my friends ; who are doubtless anxious to know what has become of me." " Very well, sir, when we come to the right place, just let us know and weTl put you oft" 194 ELSIE'S WOMANHOOD. Evidently the skipper had heard nothing to arouse his suspicions. Jackson was landed at the spot he pointed out — a lonely one on the ed.ge of a forest, without question or demur, anJ8 W0MA2TEQ0D. 323 be alone with jour babe. I hope yon never lift her ? " "No, sir, not yet. That I shall not has been my husband's second order. Mammy is within easy call, just in the next room, and will come &e instant she is wanted." "Let me look at her; unless you think it will disturb her rest." " Oh, no, sir." And the young mother gently drew aside the curtain of the crib. The two bent oyer the sleeping babe, listen- ing to its gentle breathing. " Ah, papa, I feel so rich ! you don't know bow I love her ! " whispered Elsie. " Don't I, my daughter ? don't 1 know how I love you ? " And hi3 eyes turned with yearn- ing affection upon her face, then back to that of the little one. " Six weeks old to-day, and a very cherub for beauty. Aunt Chloe tells me she is precisely my daughter oyer again, and I feel as if I had now an opportunity to recover what I lost in not having my first-born with me from her birth. Little Elsie, grandpa feels that you are his ; his precious treasure." The young mother's eyes grew misty with a strange mixture of emotion, in which love and joy were the deepest and strcigest. Her arm stele round her fathers neck. " Dear papa, how nice of you to love her so raiy precious darling. She is yours, too, almost 2U ELSIE'S WOMANHOOD. 83 much as Edward's and mine. And I am sure if we should be taken away and yon and she be left, you would be the same good father to her you have been to me." "Much better, I hope. My dear daughter, I was far too hard with you at times. But 1 know you have forgiven it all long ago." " Papa, dear papa, please don't ever again talk of — of forgiveness from me ; I was your own, and I believe you always did what you thought was for my good ; and oh, what you hare been, and are to me, no tongue can tell." " Or you to me, my own beloved child," he answered with emotion. The babe stirred, and opened its eyes with a little, "Coo, coo." "Let me take her," said Mr. Dinsmore, turning back the cover and gently lifting her from her cosy nest. Elsie lay back among her cushions again, watching with delighted eyes as her father held and handled the wee body as deftly as the most competent child's nurse. It was a very beautiful babe ; the complexion soft, smooth, and very fair, with a faint pink tinge ; the little, finely formed head covered with rings of golden hair that would some day change to the darker shade of her mothers, whose regular features and large, soft brown eyes she inherited also. SLBIE'S WOMANHOOD, 226 M Sweet little flower blossomed into this world of sin and sorrow ! Elsie, dearest, remem- ber that she is not absolutely yours, her father's, or mine ; but only lent you a little while to be trained up for the Lord." " Yes, papa, I know," she answered with emotion, "and I gave her to Him even before her birth," I hope she will prove as like you in temper and disposition as she bids fair to be in looks." " Papa, I should like her to be much better than I was." He shook his head with a half-incredulous smile. " That could hardly be, if she has any human nature at all." " Ah, papa, you forget how often I used to be naughty and disobedient ; how often you had to punish me ; particularly in that first year after you returned from Europe." A look of pain crossed his features. " Daugh- ter dear, I am full of remorse when I think of that time. I fully deserved the epithet Travilla once bestowed upon me in his righteous indig- nation at my cruelty to my gentle, sensitive little girL" " What was that, papa ? " she asked, with a look of wonder and surprise. " Dinsmore, you're a brute ! " " Papa, how could ho say that ! " and th© fair face flushed with momentary excitement 2%6 ELSIE'S WOMANHOOD. and anger toward the father of her child, whom she so thoroughly respected and so dearly loved. "Ah, don't be angry with him," said Mr. Dinsmore ; "I was the culprit. You cannot have forgotten your fall from the piano-stool which came so near making me childless ? It was he who ran in first, lifted you, and laid you on the sofa with the blood streaming from the wounded temple oyer your curls and your white dress. Ah, I can never forget the sad sight, or the pang that shot through my heart with the thought that you were dead. It v^as as he laid you down that Travilla turned to me with those indignant words, and I felt that I fully deserved them. And yet I was even more cruel afterward, when next you refused to obey when I bade you offend against your conscience." " Don't let us think or talk of it any more, dear father ; I love far better to dwell Tpon the long years that followed, full of the tenderest care and kindness. You certainly can find nothing to blame yourself with in them." " Yes ; I governed you too mucn. It would probably have ruined a less amiable temper, a less loving heart, than yours. It is well for parents to be sometimes a little blind to trivial faults. And 1 was so strict, so stern, so arbitrary, so severe. My dear, be more lenient to your child ELSIE'S WOMANHOOD, 2%7 But of course she will never find sternness is either yon or her father." " I think not, papa ; nnless she proves very headstrong ; but you surely cannot mean to advisa us not to require the prompt, cheerful, implicit obedience you have always exacted from all you? children ? " " !S r o, daughter ; though you might sometimes excuse or pardon a little forgetfulness when the order has not been of vital importance," he answered, with a smile- There was a moment's silence ; then looking affectionately into her father's face, Elsie said, " I am so glad, papa, that we have had this talk, Edward and I have had several on the same sub- ject (for we are very, very anxious to train ocu little one aright) ; and I find that we all agree. But you must be tired acting the part of nurse. Please lay her in my arms." "I am not tired, but I see you want her," he answered with a smile, doing as she requested. " Ah, you precious wee pet ! you lovely, lovely little darling ! " the young mother said, clasping her child to her bosom, and softly kissing the velvet cheek. " Papa, is she really beautiful ? or ia it only the mother love that makes her go in my eyes ? " "No; she is really a remarkably beautiful babe. Strangers pronounce her so as well as 228 ELSIE'S WOMANHOOD. ourselves. Do yon feel quite strong enough to hold her ? " (( Oh, yes, sir ; yes, indeed ! The doctor saya be thinks there would now be no danger in my lifting her, but — " laughingly, and with a fond look up into her husband's eyes, as at that mo- ment he entered the room, " that old tyrant is so fearful of an injury to this piece of his personal property, that he won't let me." " That old tyrant, eh ? " he repeated, stooping to take a kiss from the sweet lips, and to bestow one or the wee face resting on her bosom. "Yes, you know you are," she answered, her eyes contradicting her words ; " the idea of you forbidding me to lift my own baby ! " " My baby, my little friend," he said gayly. Elsie laughed a low, silvery, happy laugh, musical as a chime of bells. " Our baby," she corrected. " But you have not spoken to papa." " Ah, we said good morning out in the ave- nue. Dinsmore, since we are all three here together now, suppose we get Elsie's decision m regard to that matter we were consulting about." "Very well" "What matter ?" she asked, looking a little curious. " A business affair," replied her husband, taking a seat by her side. "I have a very good offer for your New ELSIE'S WOMANHOOD. 2W Orleans property, daughter," said Mr. Dinsmore \ "shall I accept it?" "Do you think it advisable, papa ? and yon ? Edward ? I have great confidence in yom judgments." " We do ; we think the money could be better and more safely invested in foreign stock ; but "fc is for you to decide, as the property is yours." " More safely invested ? I thought I had heard you both say real estate was the safest of all investments." "Usually," replied her father "but we fear property there is likely to depreciate in value." " Well, papa, please do just as you and my husband think best. You both know far more about these things than I do, and so I should rather trust your judgment than my own." " Then 1 shall make the sale ; and I think the time will come when you will be very glad that I did." Mr. Dinsmore presently said good-by and went away, leaving them alone. " Are not your arms tired, little wife ? " asked Mr. Travilla. " No, dear ; ah, it is so sweet to have her little head lying here ; to feel her little form, and know that she is my own, own precious treasure." He rose, gently lifted her in his arms, put himself in the easy chair and placed hei on his knee, S30 EL8IB>8 WOMANHOOD "Kow I have you both. Darling, do yon know that I love you better to-day than I eve J did before?" " Ah, but you have said that many times," she answered, with an arch, yet tender smile. " And it is always true. Each day I think my love as great as it can be, but the next I find it still greater." " And I have felt angry with you to-day, for the first time since you told me of your love." Her tone was remorseful and pleading, as though she would crave forgiveness. " Angry with me, my dearest ? In what can I have offended ? " he asked, in sorrowful surprise. "Papa was saying that he had sometimes been too hard with me, and had fully deserved the epithet you once bestowed upon him in your righteous indignation. It was when I fell from the piano-stool ; do you remember ? " "Ah, yes, I can never forget it. And I called him a brute. But you will forgive what occurred so long ago, and in a moment of anger aroused by my great love for you ? " " Forgive you, my husband ? ah, it is I who should crave forgiveness, and I do, though it wag but a momentary feeling ; and now I love you all the better for the great loving heart that prompted the exclamation." "We will exchange forgiveness," he wnis< pered, folding her closer to his heart. «* gwe-et is the image of the broodiBg dore 1 Holy as hearen a mother's tender love ! The lore of many prayers, and many tears Which changes not with dim, declining years— The only love which, on this teeming earth, Asks no retura for passion's wayward birth." — Mb*. Nobtos's Daaus. u Death is another life," — BAUV3T. No mortal tongue or pen can describe the new, deep fountain of love the birth of her child had opened in our Elsie's heart. Already a deyoted wife and daughter, she was the tenderest, most careful, most judicious of mothers ; watching vigilantly oyer the welfare, physical, moral, and spiritual, of her precious charge. Often she took it with her to her closet, or kneeling beside its cradle, sent up feryent peti- tions to Him who, while on earth, said, " Suffer the little children, and forbid them not, to coma unto me/' that He would receive her little one, and early make her a lamb of His fold. And eyen before the child could comprehend, &S2 ELSIE'S WOMANHOOD. s^e began to tell it of that dear Saviour and Lis wondrous love ; theii, as soon as it could speak, she taught it to lisp a simple prayer to Him. little Elsie was almost the idol of her father and grandparents, who ah looked upon her as * sort of second edition of her mother ; more and more so as she grew in size, in beauty, and intel- ligence. Our Elsie seemed to rind no cloud in her sky during that first year of her mother- hood. "I thought I was as perfectly happy as possible in this world, before our darling came/' she said to her husbaud one day, " but I am far happier now ; for oh I such a well-spring of joy as she is ! " "I am sure I can echo and reecho your words," he answered, folding the child to his heart. " How rich I have grown in the last two years I My two Elsies, more precious than the wealth of the world ! Sometimes I'm half afraid I love you "both with an idolatrous affec- tion, and that God will take you from me." His voice trembled with the last words. " I have had that fear also," she said, com- ing to his side and laying her hand on his arm ; ' but, Edward, if we put God first, we cannot love each other, nor this wee precious pet, too dearly." "No, you are right, little wife. But we rnnst not expect to continue always, or very long, so free from trial ; for ' we must through ELSIE'S WOMANHOOD, 833 much tribulation enter into the kingdom of God.' And 'many are the afflictions of the righteous. ' " " But the Lord delivereth him out of them all," she responded, finishing the quotation. " Yes, dearest, I know that trials and troubles will come, but not of themselves, and what our Father sends, He will give us strength to bear. ' The Lord God is a sun and shield, the Lord will give grace and glory.' " This conversation was held when the little girl was about a year old. Early in the following winter Elsie said to the dear old Mrs. Travilla, " Mother, I'm afraid you are not well. You are losing flesh and color, and do not seem so strong as usual. Mamma remarked it to me to-day, and asked what ailed you." "I am doing very well, dear," the old lady answered with a placid smile, and in her ovn gentle, quiet tones. " Mother, dear mother, something is wrong ; you don't deny that you are ill ! " and Elsie'a tone was full of alarm and distress, as she hastily seated herself upon an ottoman beside Mr3. Tra- villa's easy chair, and earnestly scanned the aged face 3he loved so well. " We must have Dr. Bar- ton here to see you. May I not send at once ? " "~No, dearest, I have already consulted hiis, fend he is doing all he can for my reliat" 234 ELSIE'S WOMANHOOu. u But cannot cure you ? " The answer came after a moments pause. " No, dear ; but I had hoped it would ba amen longer ere my cross cast its shadow over either your or Edward's path." Elsie could not speak ; she only took the pale hands in hers, and pressed them again and again to her quivering lips, while her eyes filled to overflowing. " Dear daughter/' said the calm, sweet voice, " do not grieve that I have got my summons home ; for dearly, dearly as I love you all, I am often longing to see the face of my Beloved ; of Him who hath redeemed me and washed me from my sins in Hi3 own precious blood." Mr. Traviila from the next room had heard it all. Hurrying in, he knelt by her side and folded his arms about her. " Mother," he said, hoarsely, " oh, is it, can it be so ? Are we to lose you ? " " No, my son ; blessed be God, I shall not be lost, but only gone before ; so don't be troubled and sorrowful when you see me suffer ; remem- ber that He loves me far better than you can, and will never give me one unneeded pang. " Well may I bear joyfully all He sends ; for our light affliction, which is but for a moment, worketh for us a far more exceeding and eternal weight of glory ; ' and He has said, ' When then passest through the waters, I will be with thee : ELSIE'S WOMANHOOD. 235 snd through the floods, they shall not overflow thee : when thou walkest through the fire thou ghalt not be burned, neither shall the flames kindle upon thee/" " And He is faithful to His promises. But we will not let you die yet, my mother, if any- thing in the wide world can save you. There are more skilful physicians than Dr. Barton ; we will consult them — " " My son, the disease is one the whole profes- sion agree in pronouncing incurable, and to trayel would be torture. No, be content to let me die at home, with you and this beloved daughter to smooth my dying pillow, our wee precious pet to wile away the pain with her pretty baby ways, and my own pastor to comfort me with God's truth and sweet thoughts of heaven. " Elsie looked the question her trembling lips refused to utter. " I shall not probably leave you soon," said the old lady. "It is a slow thing, the doctor tslls me, it will take some time to run its course." Elsie could scarce endure the anguish in her husband's face. Silently she placed herself by his side, her arm about his neck, and laid her cheek to his. He drew her yet closer, the other aim still embracing his mother, " Are you suffering much dearest mother ? n 238 ELSIB'S WOMANHOOD. "Not moie than He giyetli me strength to bear ; and His consolations are not small. "My dear children, I have tried to hide this from you lest it should mar your happiness. Do not let it do so ; it is no cause of regret to mo. £ have lived my three-score years and ten, and ii by reason of strength they should be four-score. yet would their strength be labor and sorrow. I am deeply thankful that our Father, has decreed to spare me the infirmities of extreme old age, by calling me home to that New Jerusalem where sin and sorrow, pain and feebleness, are unknown." " But to see you suffer, mother ! " groaned her son. " Think on the dear Hand that sends the pain — so infinitely less than what He bore for me ; that it is but for a moment ; and of the weight of glory it is to work for me. Try, my dear children, to be entirely submissive to His will." "We will, mother," they answered; "and to be cheerful for your sake. " A shadow had fallen upon the brightness oi the hitherto happy home — a shadow of a great, coming sorrow — and the present grief of knowing that the dear mother, though ever patient, cheer- ful, resigned, was enduring almost constant and often very severe pain. They watched over her with tendereat !ove ELSIE'S WOMAJSHOOJJ, 2S? and care, doing everything in their power to relieve, strengthen, comfort her ; never giving way in her presence to the grief that often wrung heir hearts. Dearly as Mr. Travilla and Elsie had loved each other before, this community of sorrow drew them still closer together ; as did their love for, and joy and pride in, their beautiful child. The consolations of God were not small with any of our friends at Ion and the Oaks ; yet was it a winter of trial to all. For some weeks after the above conversation, Mr. Dinsmore and Kose called every day, and showed themselves sincere sympathizers ; but young Horace and little Rosebud were taken with scarlet fever in its worst form, and the parents being much with them, did not venture to Ion for fear of carrying the infection to wee Elsie. By God's blessing upon skilful medical advice and attention, and the best of nursing, the chil- dren were brought safely through the trying ordeal, the disease leaving no evil effects, as it so often does. But scarcely had they convalesced when Mr. Dinsmore fell ill of typhoid fever, though of a rather mild type. Then as he began to go about again, Hose took to her bed with what proved to be a far more severe and lasting attack of the same dis- ease ; for weeks her life was in great jeopardy, and even after the danger was past, th6 improve- 838 ELSIE B WOMANHOOD. ment was so very slow that her husband was £lled with anxiety for her. Meanwhile the beloved invalid at Ion was slowly sinking to the grave. Nay, rather, as she ^ould have it, journeying rapidly toward her heavenly home, " the land of the leal," the city which hath foundations, whose builder and Maker is God. She suffered, but with a patience that never failed, a cheerfulness and joyful looking to the end, that made her sick-room a sort of little heaven below. Her children were with her almost constantly through the day ; but Mr. Travilla, watchful as ever over his idolized young wife, would not allow her to lose a night's rest, insisting on her retiring at the usual hour. Nor would he allow her ever to assist in lifting his mother, or any of the heavy nursing ; she might smooth her pillows, give her medicines, order dainties prepared to tempt the failing appetite, and oversee the negro women, who were capable nurses, and one of whom was always at hand night and day, ready to do whatever was required. Elsie dearly loved her mother-in-law, and felt it both a duty and delight to do all in her power for her comfort and consolation, j but when she heard that her own beloved father was ill, she could not stay away from him, but made a daily ?imt to the Oaks and to his bedside. She was ELSIE'S WOMANHOOD. 239 uniformly cheerful in his presence, but wept in secret because she was denied the privilege of nursing him in his illness. Then her sorrow and anxiety for Kose were great, and all the more because, Mrs. Travilla being then at the worst, she could very seldom leave her for even the shortest call at the Oaks. In the afternoon of a sweet bright Sabbath in March, a little group gathered in Mrs. Tra- villa's room. Her pastor was there : a man of large heart full of tender sympathy for the sick, the suffering, the bereaved, the poor, the dis- tressed in mind, body, or estate ; a man mighty in the Scriptures ; with its warnings, its counsels, its assurances, its sweet and precious promises ever ready on his tongue ; one who by much study of the Bible, accompanied by fervent prayer for the wisdom promised to him that asks it, had learned to wield wisely and with success " the sword of the Spirit which is the word of God." Like Noah he was a preacher of right- eousness, and like Paul could say, " I ceased not to warn every one night and day with tears." He had brought with him one of his elders, a man of like spirit, gentle, kind, tender, ever ready to obey the command to "weep with those that weep and rejoice with those that de rejoice," a man silver-haired and growing feeble with age, yet so meek and lowly in heart, so earnest and child-like in his approaches to oui 240 ELSIE'S WOMANHOOD. "Father, that ho seemed on the very verge of heaven. " Comfort ye, comfort ye my people, saith your God." Often had these two been in that sick-room, comforting the aged saint as she neared " the valley of the shadow of death." To-day they had come again on the same Christ-like errand, and for the last time ; for all could see that she stood on Jordan's very brink, its cold waters already creeping up about her feet. Mr. Dinsmore, Mr. Travilla, and Elsie were present ; also, a little withdrawn from the others, Aunt Chloe, Uncle Joe, and a few of the old house servants who were Christians. " The rich and the poor meet together ; the Lord is the Maker of them all." It was a sweetly solemn service, refreshing to the soul of each one there ; most of all, per- haps, to that of her who would so soon be cast- ing her crown at the Master's feet. "I am almost home," she said with brightening coun- tenance, her low, sweet voice breaking the sol- emn stillness of the room ; " I am entering the valley, but without fear, for Jesus is with me. I hear Him saying to me, ' Fear not ; I have redeemed thee ; thou art mine.' " " He is all your hope and trust, dear friend, is he not ?" asked her pastor. "All, all; His blood and righteousness are ELSIE'S WOMANHOOD, Ul fell my hope. All my righteousnesses are as filthy rags ; all my best services haye need to be forgiven. I am vile ; but His blood cleanseih from all sin ; and he has washed me in it and made me mete for the inheritance of the sainta in light," ' ' Dear sister, " said the old elder, taking her hand in a last farewell, "good-by for a short season ; 'twill not be long till we meet before the throne. Do not fear to cross the river, for He will be with yon, and will not let yon sink." " No ; the everlasting arms are underneath and around me, and He will never leave nor forgake." " ' Precious in the sight of the Lord is the £eath of his saints/ " said the pastor, taking the feeble hand in his turn. " Fear not ; you shall be more than conqueror through Him that loved us." " Yes, the battle is fought, the victory is won ; and I hear Him saying to me, ' Come up hithei.' Oh ! I shall be there very soon — a sinner saved by grace. " The pastor and elder withdrew, Mr. Travilla going with them to the door. Elsie brought a cordial and held it to her mother's lips, Mr. Dins- mow gently raising her head. "Thank yoia hoth," she said, with the courtesy for which she had ever been distinguished. Then, as Mr. Dins- more settled her more comfortably on her pillows, 11 242 ELSIE'8 WOMANHOOD. and Elsie set aside the empty cup, " Horace, 1115 friend, farewell till we meet in a better land. Elsie, darling/ ' laying her pale thin hand on the bowed head, "you have been a dear, dear daughter to me, such a comfort, such a blessing ! May the Lord reward you." Elsie had much ado to control her feelings. Her father passed his arm about herwaiBt and made her rest her head upon his shoulder. " Mother, how are you now ? " asked Mr. Tra- villa, coming in and taking his place on his wife's other side, close by the bed of the dying one. "All is peace, peace, the sweetest peace. ) have nothing to do but to die, I am in the river but the Lord upholdeth me with his hand, and I have almost reached the farther shore. " She then asked for the babe, kissed and blessed it, and bade her son good-by. " Sing to me, children, the twenty-third psalm." Controlling their emotion by a strong effort, that they might minister to her comfort, they sang ; the three voices blending in sweet harmony. "Thank you," she said again, as the last strain died away. " Hark ! I hear sweeter, richer melody, the angels have come for me, Jesus is here. Lord Jesus receive my spirit." There was an enraptured upward glance, an ecstatic smile, then the eyes closed and all was ELSIE'S WOMANHOOD, 243 still ; without a struggle or a groan the spirit had dropped its tenement of clay and sped away on its upward flight It was like a translation ; a deep hush filled the room, while for a moment they seemed almost to see the " glory that dwelleth in Imman- uel's land." They scarcely wept, their joy for her, the ransomed of the Lord, almost swallowing up their grief for themselves. But soon Elsie began to tremble violently, shudder after shudder shaking her whole frame, and in sudden alarm her husband and father led her from the room. "Oh, Elsie, my darling, my precious wife ! w cried Travilla, in a tone of agony, as they laid her upon a sofa in her boudoir, " are you ill ? are you in pain ?" " Give way, daughter, and let the tears come," said Mr. Dinsmoie, tenderly bending oyer he? and gently smoothing her hair ; "it will do you good, bring relief to the overstrained nerves and full heart." Even as he spoke the barriers which for so many hours had been steadily, firmly resisting the grief and anguish swelling in her breast, suddenly gave way, and tears poured out like a flood. Her husband knelt by her side and drew he? head to a resting-place on his breast, while hex father, with one of her hands in his, softly re- 244 ELSIE'S WOMANHOOD peated text after text speaking of the bliss of the bles«ed dead. She grew calmer. " Don't be alarmed about me, dear Edward, dear papa," she said in her low arweet tones. " I don't think I am ill ; and heavy as onr loss is, dearest husband, how we must rejoice for her. Let me go and perform the last office of loye for her — our precious mother ; I am better ; I am able." " No, no, you are not ; you must not," both answered in a breath. " Aunt Dinah and Aunt Ghloe will do it all tenderly and lovingly as ii she had been of their own flesh and blood, 9 * @dded Mr. Travilla, in trembling tones. <%pttr tatfiefj}. There are smiles end tears in the mother's eye* )?or her aew-born babe beside her lies ; Oh, heaven of bliss ! Trhen the heart o'ernowa With the capture a mother only knows ! M — Hbnbt WASH, J». "feL^s. Tea villa was laid to rest in their owe family burial ground, her dust sleeping beside that of her husband, and children who had died in infancy ; and daily her surviving son carried hia little daughter thither to scatter fiowers upon "dear grandma's grave. " It was not easy to learn to live without the dear mother ; they missed her constantly. Yet was their sorrow nearly swallowed up in joy for her — the blessed dead who had departed to be with Christ in glory and to go no more out for- ever from that blissful presence. Their house was not made dark and gloomy, the sunlight and sweet spring air entered freely as of yore. Nor did they suffer gloom to gather in their hearts or cloud their faces. Each was filled with thankfulness for the spared life at tfie other, and of their darling little daughter.. 246 ELSIE'S WOMANHOOD. And scarce a week had passed away since heaven's portals opened wide to the ransomed soul, when a new voice — that of a son and heir — was heard in the old home, and many hearts rejoiced in the birth of the beautiful boy. " God, has sent him to comfort you in your sorrow, dearest," Elsie whispered, as her hus- band brought the babe — fresh from its first robing by Aunt Chloe's careful hands — and with a very proud and happy face laid it in her arms, " Yes," he said, in moved tones. " Oh, that men would praise the Lord for his goodness, and for his wonderful works to the children of men ! " " If mother could only have seen him ! " And tears gathered in the soft, sweet eyes of the young mother gazing so tenderly upon the tiny face on her arm. " She will, one day, I trust ; I have been asking for this new darling that he may be an heir of glory : that he may early be gathered into the fold of the good Shepherd. " " And I, too," she said, " have besought my precious Saviour to be the God of my children also from their birth." " What do you intend to call your son P " " What do you ? " she asked, smiling up at him. " Horace, for your father, if you like." " And I had thought of Edward, for his father and youra. Horace Edward. Will that do ? n ELBIE'8 WOMANHOOD, S47 "I am satisfied, if yon are. Bnt Edward wonld do for the next." "Bnt he may never come to claim it," she said, langhing. " Is papa in the honse ?" "Yes, and delighted to learn that he has a grandson." " Oh, bring him here and let me see the fiist meeting between them." " Can yon bear the excitement ? " " I promise not to be excited ; and it always does me good to see my dear father." Mr. Dinsmore came softly in, kissed very tenderly the pale face on the pillow, then took a long look at the tiny pink one nestling to her side. "Ah, isn't he a beauty ? I have made yon two grandfathers now, yon dear papa ! " she said, indulging in a little jest to keep down the emotions tugging at her heart-strings. " Do yon begin to feel old and decrepit, mm pere ? " "Not very," he said smiling, and softly smoothing her hair ; " not more so to-day than I did yesterday. But now I must leave yon to rest and sleep. Try, my darling, for all our sakes, to be very prudent, very calm and quiet" "I will, papa; and don't trouble about me. Yon know I am in good hands. Ah, stay a moment ! here is Edward bringing wee bit Elsie to take her first peep at her little brother." "Mamma," cried the child, stretching out 248 KLSIE'8 WOMANHOOD, her little arms toward the bed, ' ' mamma, take Elsie." " Mamma can't, darling ; poor mamma is so sick/' said Mr. Travilla ; " stay with papa." " But she shall kiss her mamma, dear, pre- cious little pet," Elsie said. " Please hold her close for a minute, papa, and let her kiss her mother." He complied under protest, in which Sir. Dinsmore joined, that he feared it would be too much for her ; and the soft baby hands patted the wan cheeks, the tiny rosebud mouth was pressed again and again to the pale lips, with rapturous cooings, " Mamma, mamma ! " " There, pet, that will do," said her father. " Now, see what mamma has for you." " Look, mother's darling," Elsie said with a glad smile, exposing to view the tiny face by her side. " Baby ! " cried the little girl, with a joyous shout, clapping her chubby hands, "pretty baby Elsie take ' ; and the email arms were held out entreatingly. " No, Elsie is too little to hold it," said her papa ; " but she may kiss it very softly." The child availed herself of the permission, then gently patting the new comer, repeated her glad cry, "Baby, pretty baby." "Elsie's little brother," said her mamma, tenderly. " Now, dearest, let mammy take her ELSIE'S WOMANHOOD. 243 a?? ay." she added, sinking back on her pillows with a weary sigh. He complied, then bent oyer her with a look of concern. "I should not have brought he? in," he said anxiously ; "it hag been too much for you," " But I wanted so to see her delight One more kiss, papa, before you go, and then 111 try to sleep." Elsie did not recover so speedily and entirely as before, after the birth of her first babe ; and those to whom she was so dear grew anxious and troubled about her, " You want change, daughter," Mr. Dinsmore said, coming in one morning and finding her lying pale and languid on a sofa ; " and we are all longing to haye you at home. Do you feel equal to a driye oyer to the Oaks ? " "I think I do, papa," she answered, brighten- ing. " Edward took me for a short driye yester- day, and I felt better for it. " " Then, dearest, come home to your father's house and stay there as long as you can ; bring babife and nurses and come. Your own suite of rooms is quite ready for you," he said, caressing her tenderly. " Ah, papa, how nice to go back and feel at home in my own father's house again," 3he said, softly stroking his head with her thin white hand as he bent oyer her, the sweet soft eyes, gazing 11* 260 ELSIE- 8 WOMANHOOD. full into his, brimming over with love and joy. " I shall go, if Edward doesn't object. Fd like to start this minute. But you haven't told me how poor mamma is to-day ? " " Not well, not very much stronger than you are, I fear," he answered, with a slight sigh. " But your coming will do her a world of good. Where is Travilla ? " "Here, and quite at your service," replied Mr. Travilla'e cheery voice, as he came in from the garden with his little daughter in his arms. He set her down, and while he exchanged greetings with Mr. Dinsmore, she ran to her mother with a bouquet of lovely 3weet-scented spring blossoms they had been gathering " for mamma. " " Thank you, mother's darling," Elsie said, accepting the gift and tenderly caressing the giver ; " you and papa, too. But see who is here?" The child turned to look, and with a joyous cry " G-'anpa ! " ran into his outstretched arms. " Grandpa's own wee pet," he said, hugging the little form close and covering the baby face with kisses. "Will you come and live with grandpa in his home for awhile ? " "Mamma ? papa too ? " she asked, turning a wistful look on them. " Oh, yes ; yes indeed, mamma and papa too," "Baby?" ELSIE'S WOMANHOOD. 251 " Yes, baby and mammies and alL Will yon come ? " " May Elsie, mamma ? " " Yes, pet ; we will all go, if your papa if willing. " And her soft eyes sought her hus- band's face with a look of love and confidence that said she well knew he would never deny her any good in his power to bestow. " I have been proposing to my daughter to take possession again, for as long a time as she finds it convenient and agreeable, of her old suite of rooms at the Oaks. I think the change would do her good, and perhaps you and the little ones also," Mr. Dinsmore explained. "Thank you ; I think it would. When will you go, little wife ? " " Papa proposes taking me at once," " My carriage is at the door, and this is th@ pleasantest part of the day," remarked Mr. Dinsmore. "Ah, yes ; then take Elsie with you, and I will follow shortly with children and servants. There is no reason in the world why she should rxot go, if she wishes, and stay as long as she likes," The change proved beneficial to Elsie ; it was so pleasant to find herself again a member of her fathers family; and that even without a short separation from her husband and little ones. Here., too, absent from the scenes so closely 252 ELSIE'S WOMANHOOD. associated with the memory of her beloved moth- er-in-law, she dwelt less upon her loss, while at the same time she was entertained and cheered by constant interconrse with father, Rose, an-I young brother and sister. It was indeed a cheer- ing thing to all parties to be thns brought together for a time as one family in delightful social intercourse. Yet, though the invalids improved in spirits, and to some extent in other respects, they did not regain their usual strength, and the physi- cians recommending travel, particularly a sea voyage, it was fiually decided to again visit Europe for an indefinite period, the length of their stay to depend upon circumstances. It was in June, 1860, they left their homes ; and travelling northward, paid a short visit to relatives and friends in. Philadelphia ; then took the steamer for Europe. A few weeks later found them cosily estab- lished in a handsome villa overlooking the beau- tiful bay of Naples. They formed but one family here as at ths Oaks ; each couple having their own private suite of apartments, while all other rooms were used in common and their meals taken together ; an arrangement preferred by all ; Mr. Dinsmoie and his daughter especially rejoicing in it, as giving them almost as much of each other's so- ciety as before her marriage. FLtiIE'8 WOMANHOOD. 253 In this lovely spot they planned to remain for some months, perchance a year; little dreaming that five years would roll their weary round ere they should Bee home and dear native !sa& again. djapte % fonrtg-first * Ho who lores not his country can love nothing.** — Byron. ** There were sad hearts In a darken'd home, When the brave had left their bower ; But the strength of prayer and sacrifice Was with them in that hour." — Kbs. Huubs. The sea voyage had done much for the health of both ladies, and the soft Italian air carried on the cure. Mr. Dinsmore, too, had recovered his umal strength, for the first time since his attack of fever. There was no lack of good society at their command ; good both socially and intellectually. American, English, Italian, French, etc. ; many former friends and acquaintances and others desiring to be introduced by these ; but none of our party felt disposed at that time to mix much with the outside world. Elsie's deep mourning was for her sufficient excuse for declining all invitations ; while Rose oould plead her still precarious state of health. She wore no outward badge of mourning for ELSIE'S WOMANHOOD, 255 Mrs. Travilla, but felt deep and sincere gr^ef at her loss ; for the two had been intimate and dear friends for many years, the wide disparity in age making their intercourse and affection much Like that of mother and daughter. The condition of political affairs in their own country was another thing that caused our friends to feel more exclusiye and somewhat reluctant to mingle with those of other nationalities. Every mail brought them letters and papers from both North and South, and from their distant stand- point they watched with deep interest and anx- iety the course of events fraught with such mo- mentous consequences to their native land. Neither Mr. Dinsmore nor Mr. Travilla had ever been a politician ; but both they and their wives were dear lovers of their country, by which they meant the whole Union. The three who were natives of the South acknowledged that that section was dearer to them than any other, but that the whole was nearer and dearer than any part ; while Eose said " she knew no differ- ence ; it was all her own beloved native land, to her mind one and indivisible." They led a cheerful, quiet life in their Italian home, devoting themselves to each other and their children ; Mr. I >insmore acting the part of Sutor to young Horace, as he had done to Elsie. Her little ones were the pets and playthinga of the entire household, while she and their 5&fc ELSIE'S WOMANHOOD. father found the sweetest joy in caring for them and watching over and assisting the develop- ment of their naturel, mental, moral, and phys- ical. Their children would never be left to the care and training of servants, however faithful and devoted. Kor would those of Mr. Dinsniore and Rose. In the esteem of these wise, Christian parents the God-given charge of their own offspring took undoubted precedence of the claims of society. Thus placidly passed the summer and autumn, the monotony of their Becluded life relieved by the enjoyment of literary pursuits, and varied by walks, rides, drives, and an occasional sail, in bright, still weather, over the waters of the lovely bay. Elsie entered the drawing-room one morning, with the little daughter in her arms. The child was beautiful as a cherub, the mother sweet and fair as ever, nor a day older in appearance than while yet a girl in her father's house. She found him sole occupant of the room, pacing to and fro with downcast eyes and troubled countenance. But looking up quickly at the sound of her footsteps he came hastily toward her. " Come to grandpa," he said, holding out hia hands to the little one ; then as he took her in his arms, "My dear daughter, if I had any authority over you now — " "Papa," sfe© interrupted, blushing deeply, ELSIE'S WOMANHOOD. 257 while the quick tears sprang to her eyes, " you aurt me ! Please don't speak so, I am as ready now as ever to obey your slightest behest," '-Then, my darling, don't carry this child T on are not strong, and I fear will do your- self an injury. She can walk very well now, and if necessary to have her carried, call upon m.% her father, or one of the servants ; Aunt Chloe, Uncle Joe, Dinah, one or another is almost sure bo be at hand." "I will try to follow out your wishes, papa. Edward has said the same thing to me, and no doubt you are right ; but it is so sweet to have her in my arms, and so hard to refuse when she asks to be taken up." "You musn't ask mamma to carry you," Mr. Dinsmore said to the child, caressing her ten- derly as he spoke ; " poor mamma is not strong, and you will make her sick." They had seated themselves side by side upon a sofa. The little one turned a piteous look upon her mother, and with a quivering lip and fast-filling eyes, said, " Mamma sick ? Elsie tisa hex, make her well ? " " No, my precious pet, mother isn't sick ; so don't cry," Elsie answered, receiving the offered kiss, as the babe left her grandfather's knee and crept to her ; then the soft little hands patted her on the cheeks and the chubby arms clung about her neck. 358 ELSIE'S WOMANHOOD. But catching sight, through the open win dow, of her father coming up the garden walk, wee Elsie hastily let go her hold, slid to the floor and ran to meet him. Mr. Dinsmore seemed again lost in gloomy thought. " Papa, dear, what is it ? What troubles you ^o ? " asked Elsie, moying closer to him, and leaning affectionately on his shoulder, while the soft eyes sought his with a wistful, anxious expression. He put his arm about her, and just touching her cheek with his lips, heaved a deep sigh. "The papers bring us bad ne"ws. Lincoln is elected. " " Ah well, let us not borrow trouble, papa ; perhaps he may prove a pretty good president after all." "Just what I think/' remarked Mr. Travilla, who had come in with his little girl in his arms at the moment of Mr. Dinsmore's announce- ment, and seated himself on his wife's other side ; "let us wait and see. All may go right with our country yet." Mr. Dinsmore shook his head sadly. "I wish I could think so, but in the past history of all republics whenever section has arrayed itself against section the result has been either a peaceful separation, or civil war ; nor can we \iope to be an exception to the rule. ELSIE'S WOMANHOOD. 259 "I should monrn over either," said Elsie, " 1 cannot bear to contemplate the dismember- ment of onr great, glorious old Union. Foreign nations would never respect either portion as they do the undivided whole." " No ; and I can't believe either section can be so mad as to go that length," remarked her husband, fondling his baby daughter as he spoke. " The North, of course, does not desire a separation ; but if the South goes, will be pretty sure to let her go peaceably." "I doubt it, Travilla ; and even if a peace- able separation should be allowed at first, so many causes of contention would result (such as the control of the navigation of the Mississippi, the refusal of the North to restore runaway negroes, etc., etc.), that it would soon come to blows." "Hoi ace, you frighten me," said Eose, who had come in while they were talking. The color faded from Elsie's cheek, and a shudder ran over her, as she turned eagerly to hear her husband reply. "Why cross the bridge before we come to it, Dinsmore ? " he answered cheerily ; meeting his wife's anxious look with one so fond and freo from care, that her heart grew light ; " surely there'll be no fighting where there is no yoke of oppression to cast off. There can be no effect without a cause." 260 ELSIE'S WOMANHOOD. " The accursed lust of power on the part of a few selfish, unprincipled men, may invent a cause, and for the carrying out of their own ambitious schemes, they may lead the people to believe and act upon it. No one proposes to interfere with our institution where it already exists — even the Republican party has emphatically denied any such intention — yet the hue and cry has been raised that slavery will be abolished by the incoming administration, arms put into the hands of the blacks, and a servile insurrection will bring untold horrors to the hearths and homes of the South." " Oh, dreadful, dreadful ! cried Rose. " But, my dear, there is really no such dan- ger : the men (unscrupulous politicians) do not believe it themselves ; but they want power, and as they could never succeed in getting the masses to rebel to compass their selfish ends, they have invented this falsehood and are deceiving the peo- ple with it." " Don't put all the blame on one side, Dins- more," said Mr. Tra villa. " No ; that would be very unfair. The fram- ers of our constitution looked to gradual eman- cipation to rid us of this blot on our escutcheon, this palpable inconsistency between our conduct and our political creed. "It did so in a number of the States, and probably would ere this in all, but for the fierce ELSIE'S WOMANHOOD. 261 attacks of a few ultra-abolitionists, -who were mora zealous to pull the mote out of their brother's eye than the beam out of their own, and so exasperated the Southern people by their whole- sale abuse and denunciations, that all thought of emancipation was given up. "It is human nature to cling the tighter to anything another attempts to force from you ; even though you may have felt ready enough to give it up of your own free will." "Very true," said TrariUa, "and Garrison and his crew would have been at better work repenting of their own sins, than denouncing those of their neighbors/' " But, papa, you don't think it can come to war, a civil war, in our dear country ? the best land the sun shines on ; and where there is none of the oppression that makes a wise man mad ! " " I fear it, daughter, I greatly fear it ; but we will cast this care, as well as all others, upon Him who ' doeth according to His will, in the army of heaven and among the inhabitants of the earth.' " What a winter of uncertainty and gloom to Americans, both at home and abroad, was that of 1860-'61 I Each mail brought to our anxious friends in Naples news calculated to depress them more and more in view of the calamities that seemed to await their loved land. State after State was seceding and seizing 262 ELSIE'S WOMANHOOD. apon United States property within its limits— forts, arsenals, navy-yards, custom-houses, mints, ships, armories, and militjiry stores — while the government at Washington remained inactive, doubtless fearing to precipitate the civil strife. Still Mr. Travilla, Eose, and Elsie, like many lovers of the Union, both North and South, clung to the hope that war might yet be averted. At length came the news of the formation of the Confederacy : Davis's election as its presi- dent ; then of the firing upon the Star of the West, an unarmed vessel bearing troops and sup- plies to Fort Sumter. " Well, the first gun has been fired," said Mr. Dinsmore, with a sigh, as he laid down the paper from which he had been reading the account. " But perhaps it may be the only one, papa,' remarked Elsie hopefully. " I wish it may," replied her father, rising and beginning to pace to and fro, as was his wont when excited or disturbed. The next news from America was looked foi with intense anxiety. It was delayed loager than usual ; and at length a heavy mail came, con- sisting of letters and papers of various dates from the twelfth to the twentieth of April, and bring ing news of the most exciting character in the fall of Fort Samter : the call of the president for seventy-five thousand troops to defend the cap! ELSIE'S WOMANHOOD. 262 cai , the seizure of the United States armory at Harper's Ferry by the Confederates ; the attack on the Massachusetts troops while passing through Baltimore, and lastly the seizure of Nor- folk Navy-yard. Dinner was just over at the villa,, the family still chatting over the dessert, children and all in an unusually merry mood, when this mail was brought in by a servant, and handed to Mr. Dinsrnore. He promptly distributed it, took up the paper of the earliest date, and glancing over the head ings, exclaimed, with a groan, " It has come ! " "What?" queried the others, in excited chorus. " War ! My country ! oh, my country ! Fort Sumter has fallen after a terrific bombardment of thirty-six hours." And he proceeded to read aloud the account of the engagement, the others listening in almost breathless silence. "And they have dared to fire upon the flag ! the emblem of our nationality, the symbol of Revolutionary glory ; to tear it down and trample it in the dust ! " cried Mr. Travilla, pushing back his chair in unwonted excitement ; " shameful, ghamef ul ! " Tears were rolling down Elsie's cheeks, and Rose's eyes were full. "Let us adjourn to the library and learn together all these papers and letters can tell ug/ 264 ELSIE'S WOMANHOOD. said Mr. Dinsmore, rising. " 'Twill be better bo ; we shall need the support of each other's sympathy." He led the way and the rest followed. The papers were examined first, by the gen tlemen, now the one and now the other reading an article aloud, the excitement and distress of all increasing with each item of intelligence in regard to public affairs. Rose and Elsie opened their letters, and now and then, in the short pauses of the reading, cast a hasty glance at their contents. Elsie's were from her Aunt Adelaide, Walter, and Enna. Rose's from her mother, Eichard, May, and Sophie. The last seemed written in a state of dis- traction. " Rose, Rose, I think I shall go crazy ! my husband and his brothers have enlisted in the Confederate army. They, Harry especially, are furious at the North and full of fight ; and I know my brothers at home will enlist on the other side ; and what if they should meet and kill each other ! Oh, dear ! oh, dear ! my heart is like to break ! " And what is it all about ? I can't see that anybody's oppressed ; but when I tell Harry so, he just laughs and says, ' No ; we're not going to wait till they have time to rivet our chains.' * But,' 1 say ( I've had neither sight nor sound of ELSIE'S WOMANHOOD, 265 eiiains ; wait at least till you hear their clank.' Then he laughs again, but says soothingly, 1 Never mind, little wife ; don't distress yourself; the North won't fight ; or if they do try it, will eoon give it up.' But I know they won't giye up : they wouldn't be Americans if they did. "Arthur and Walter Dinsmore were here yes- terday, and Arthur is worse than Harry a great deal ; actually told me he wouldn't hesitate to shoot down any or all of my brothers, if he met them in Federal uniform. Walter is almost silent on the subject, and has not yet enlisted. Arthur taunted him with being for the Union, and gaid if he was quite sure of it he'd shoot him, or help hang him to the nearest tree. " Oh, Rose! pray, pray that this dreadful war may be averted ! " Rose felt almost stunned with horror as she read; but her tears fell fast as she hurriedly perused the contents of the other three, learning from them that Richard, Harold, and Fred had already enlisted, and Edward would do the same should the war continue long. ' ' My heart is torn in two ! " she cried, look- in g piteously up in her husband's face, with the tears streaming down her own. 1 ' What is it, my darling ? " he asked, coming to her and taking her cold hands in his. " Oh my country ! my country ! My brothers, foo — and yours ! they are pitted against each 12 266 ELSIE'S WOMANHOOD. other — have enlisted in the opposing armies. Oh, Horace, Horace ! what ever shall we do ? " " God reigns, dearest ; let that comfort you and all of us," he said, in moved tones. " It is dreadful, dreadful ! Brothers, friends, neighbors, with hearts full of hatred and ready to imbrue their hands in each other's blood ; and for what ? That a few ambitious, selfish, unscrupulous men may retain and increase their power ; for this they are ready to shed the blood of tens of thou- sands of their own countrymen, and* bring utter ruin upon our beautiful, sunny South. " Oh, papa, surely not ! " cried Elsie ; " these papers say the war cannot last more than three months." " They forget that it will be American against American. If it is over in three years, 'twill be shorter than I expect." Elsie was weeping, scarcely less distressed than Rose. " We will, at least, hope for better things, lit- tle wife," her husband said, drawing her to him with caressing motion. "What do your letters say?" " They are full of the war* ; it is the all-absorb- ing theme with them, as with us. Aunt Adelaide's is very sad. Her heart clings to the South, as ours do ; yet, like us, she has a strong love for the old Union. " And she's very fond of her husband, who* ELSIE'S WOMANHOOD. 28? she says, is very strong for the Government ; and then, besides her distress at the thought that he will enlist, her heart is torn with anguish because her brothers and his are in the opposing armies. "Oh, Edward! isn't it terrible? Civil war in our dear land ! So many whom we love on both sides!" There was a moment of sorrowful silence. Then her father asked, " "What does Enna say ?" " She is very bitter, papa : speaks with great contempt of the North ; exults over the fall of Fort Sumter and the seizure of United States property ; glories in the war-spirit of Dick and Arthur, and sneers at poor Walter because he is silent and sad, and declines, for the present at least, to take any part in the strife. Grandpa, she says, and his mother, too, are almost ready to turn him out of the house ; for they are as hot secessionists as can be found anywhere. " I have a letter from Walter too, papa. He writes in a very melancholy strain ; hints mildly at the treatment he receives at home ; says he can't bear the idea of fighting against the old flag, and still less the old friends he has at the North, and wishes he was with us or anywhere out of the country that he might escape being forced to take part in the quarrel." "Poor fellow ! sighed Mr. Dinsmore. "Ah, i have a letter here from my father that I hare not yet opened. " 86$ ELSIE'S WOMANHOOD. He took it from the table as he spoke, Hia face darkened as he read, the frown and 3 tern expression reminding Elsie of some of the scenes in her early days ; but he handed the missive tc Kose, remarking, in a calm, quiet tone, " My father expects me to be as strong a secessionist as himself." "But you're for the Union, papa, are you not ?" asked Horace. "You'd never fire upon the Stars and Stripes — the dear old flag that pro- tects us here ? " " No, my son. I love the dear South, which has always been my home, better far than any other of the sections ; yet I love the whole better than a part." "So do I ! " exclaimed Eose warmly ; " and if Pennsylvania, my own native State, should rebel against the general government, I'd say, ' Put her down with a strong hand ' ; and just so with any State or section, Eastern, Northern, Middle, or Western. I've always been taught that my coun- try is the Union ; and I think that teaching hag been general through the North." " It is what my mother taught me, and what I have taught my children," said Mr. Dinsmore ; " not to love the South or my native State less, out the Union more. I was very young when I lost my mother ; but that, and some other of hex teachings, I have never forgotten." " There is, I believe, a strong love for the old ELSIE'S WOMANHOOD. %M Union throughout the whole South," remarked Mr. Tra villa ; "there would be no rebellion among the masses there, but for the deceptions practised upon them by their leaders and politi- cians ; and it is tney who have been whirling the States out of the Union, scarce allowing the" peo- ple a voice in the matter." " I don't wonder at the indignation of the North over the insult to the flag," said Elsie ; " nor the furor for it that is sweeping over the land." " I'd like to be there to help fling it to the breeze," cried Horace excitedly ; " and to see how gay the streets must be with it flying everywhere. Yes, and I'd like to help fight. Papa, am I not old enough ? mayn't I go ? " " No, foolish boy, you are much too young, not yet fourteen. And suppose you were old enough, would you wish to light your uncles ? kill one of them, perhaps ? Uncle Walter, for instance ? " " Oh papa, no, no, no ! I wouldn't for the world hurt one hair of dear Uncle Wal's head ; no, not if he were the hottest kind of secessionist" " Kill Uncle Wal ! why Horace, how could you ever think of such a thing ? " exclaimed Bosebud. " And mamma and sister Elsie, why are you both crying so ? " All the afternoon the elders of the family remained together, talking over the news — they 370 ELSIE'S WOMANHOOD. could scarce think or speak of anything elae : very grave and sad all of them, the ladies now and then dropping a tear or two, while each paper was carefully scanned again and again, le3t some item on the all-absorbing subject might hare been overlooked, and every letter that had any bearing upon it read and re-read till its contents had been fully digested. May's gave a graphic account of the excite- ment in Philadelphia ; the recruiting and drilling of troops, the making of flags, the constant, uni- versal singing of patriotic songs, etc., then closed with the story of the sorrowful parting with the dear brothers who might never return from the battle-field. It had been a bright, warm day, but at even- ing the sea breeze came in cool and fresh ; thin clouds were scudding across the sky, hiding the stars and giving but a faint and fitful view of the young moon that hung, a bright crescent, Amid their murky folds. Mr. Dinsmore was pacing slowly to and fro upon an open colonnade overlooking the bay. He walked with bent head and folded arms, ae one in painful thought. A slight girlish figure came gliding toward him from the open doorway. " Papa, dear, dear papa," murmured a voice tremulous with emo- tion, "you are very sad to-night; would that your daughter could comfort you ! n ELSIE'S WOMANHOOD. 271 He paused in his walk, took her in his armi a&& folded her close to his heart. " Thank you, darling. Yes, I am sad, as we all are. Would that I could comfort you, and keep all sorrow from your life. Nay, that iu not a right wish, for ' whom the Lord loveth he chasteneth, and scourgeth every son whom he reeeiveth.' 'As many as I love I rebuke and chasten.' * " Yes, papa, those words make me more than willing to bear trials. But oh, how dreadful, how dreadful, to know that our countrymen are already engaged in spilling each other's blood 1 " " Yes, that is harrowing enough ; but that it should be also our near and dear relations ! Elsie, I am thinking of my young brothers ; they are not Christians ; nor is my poor old father. How can they bear the trials just at hand. How unfit they are to meet death, especially in the sudden, awful form in which it is like to meet those who seek the battle-field. Daughter, you must help me pray for them, pleading the promise, * If two of you shall agree.' " "I will, papa ; and oh, I do feel deeply foi them. Poor Walter and poor, poor grandpa 1 think he loves you best of all his sons, papa ; but it would be very terrible to him to have the others killed or maimed." " Yes, it would indeed. Arthur is his moth- er's idol, and I daresay she now almost regrets 1372 ELSIE 1 8 WOMANHOOD. that he lias so entirely recovered from his lame- ness as to be fit for the army." He drew her to a seat " The babies are in bed, I suppose ? " "Yes, papa; I left my darlings sleeping sweetly. I am trying to train them to regular habits and early hours, as you did me." " That is right." " Papa, it is so sweet to be a mother ! to have my little Elsie in my lap, as I had but a few moments since, and feel the clasp of her arms about my neck, or the tiny hands patting and stroking my face, the sweet baby lips showering kisses all over it, while she coo3 and rejoices over me ', ' Mamma ! mamma, my mamma ! Elsie's dear mamma ! Elsie's own sweet, pretty mam- ma.' Ah, though our hearts ache for the dear land of our birth, we still have many many bless- ings left." " We have indeed." Mr. Travilla, Eose, and Horace now joined them, and the last-named besieged his father with questions about the war and its causes ; all of which were patiently answered to the best of Mr. Dingmore's ability, Mr. Travilla now and then being appealed to for further information, or his opinion, while the ladies listened and occasionally put in a remark or a query. From that day the mails from America were looked for with redoubled anxiety and eagerness ? EL8IE'8 WOMANHOOD. 273 though the war news was always painful, which- ever side had gained a yictory or suffered defeat. At first, papers and letters had been received from both North and South, giving them the advantage of hearing the report from each side j but soon the blockade 6hut off nearly all inter- course- with the South, a mail from thence reach- ing them only occasionally, by means of some Confederate or foreign craft eluding the vigilance of the besieging squadron. Early in June there came a letter from Miss Stanhope, addressed to Elsie. Like all received from America now, it dwelt almost exclusively upon matters connected with the fearful struggle just fairly begun between the sections. The old lady's heart seemed full of love for the South, yet she was strongly for the Union, and said she should be so ii any other section or State rebelled. Lansdale was full of excitement, flags flying everywhere ; they had one streaming across from the top of the house, and another from a tree in the garden. Harry had enlisted in response to the first call of troops, and was now away, fighting in Virginia ; while she, praying night and day for his safety, was, with most of the ladieB of the town, busy as a bee knitting stockings and mak- ing shirts for the men in the field, and preparing lint, bandages, and little dainties for the sick and wounded. Chapter Hkntj-setm^. Calm me, my God, and keep me calm While these hot breezes blow ; Be llie the night-dew's cooling balm Tpon earth's fevered brow." — H. Ban am. " Fear not ; I will help thee." —UAJxa xiil. 14. Dear old auntie ! to think how hard at rfork for her country she is, while I sit idle here/' sighed Elsie, closing the letter after read- ing it aloud to the assembled family. " Mamma, papa, Edward, is there nothing we can do ? " "We can do just what they are doing, * replied Rose with energy. " I wonder I had not thought of it before ; shirts, stockings, lint, band- ages, we can prepare them all ; and send with them such fruits and delicacies as will carry from thi! far^ofi place. What say you, gentlemen ?" "I think you can," was the simultaneous reply ; Mr. Travilla adding, " and we can help with the lint, and by running the sewing- machines. I'd be glad to add to the comfort of the poor fellows on both sides," ELSIE'S WOMANHOOD. 175 " And money is needed by their aid societies,* 5 added Mr, Dinsmore. u And I can send tha* ! " Elsie exclaimed, joyously. " Yes, we all can," said her father. Several busy weeks followed, and a large bog was packed and sent off. "If that arrives safely we will send another, n they said ; for news had reached them that such supplies were sorely needed. "What! at it again, little wife?" queried Mr. Trayilla, entering Elsie's boudoir the next morning, to find her delicate fingers busy with knitting-needles and coarse blue yarn. "Yes, sir," she said^ smiling up at him, "it seems a slight relief to my anxiety about my country, to be doing something, if it is only this." " Ah ! then I'll take lessons, if you, or Aunt Chloe there will teach me,* he returned, laugh- ingly drawing up a chair and taking a seat by her side. " Mammy, can you supply another set of needles, and more yarn ? " " Yes, massa ; " and laying down the stocking she was at work upon, away she went in search of them. " Papa, see ! so pitty ! " cried a little voice ; and " wee Elsie " was at his knee, with a diamond, necklace in her hand. "Yes," he said, gently taking it from her, "bat rather too valuable a plaything for m? 276 ELSIE'S WOMANHOOD. little pet How did she get hold of it, dearest F * he asked, turning to his wife. u Mamma, say Elsie may. Please, papa, let ffisie have it," pleaded the little one with quiver- ing lip and fast-filling eyes. " I gave her leave to look over the contents of my jewel box ; she is a very careful little body, and mammy and I are both on the watch : " answered mamma. "It is a great treat to her ; and she takes up only one article at a time, ex- amines it till satisfied, then lays it back exactly as she found it. So please, papa, may she go on ? " "Yes, if mamma gave permission it is all right, darling," he said, caressing the child and returning the necklace. " Tank oo, papa, mamma ; Elsie be very tare- ful mamma's pitty sings," she cried with a glee- ful laugh, holding up her rosebud mouth for a kiss, first to one, then the other. " Let papa see where you put it, precious," he said, following her as she tripped across the room and seated herself on a cushion in front of fche box. "Dere, papa, dus where Elsie dot it," she said, laying it carefully back in its proper place. ' See, so many, many pitty sings in mamma's box." " Yes," he said, passing his eye thoughtfully from one to another of the brilliant collection of rings, brooches, chains, bracelets, and necklaces ELSIE'S WOMANHOOD. %Tt sparkling with gems — diamonds, rubies, ame- thysts, pearls, emeralds, and other precious stones* " Little wife, your jewels alone are worth what to very many would be a handsome fortune." " Yes, Edward, and is it not really a pity to have so much locked up in them ? " " No, it is a good investment ; especially ss things are at present." " I could do very well without them ; should never have bought them for myself ; they are almost all your gifts and papa's, or his purchases." Aunt Ohloe had returned with the needles and yarn, and now Elsie began giving the lesson in knitting, both she and her pupil making very merry over it. Rose and Mr. Dinsmore presently joined them, and the latter, not to be outdone by his son-in-law, invited his wife to teach him. Horace was at his lessons, but Rosebud, or Rosie as she had gradually come to be called, soon followed her parents. She was a bright, merry little girl of six, very different from what her sister had been at that age ; full of fun and frolicsome as a kitten, very fond of her father, liking to climb upon his knee to be petted and caressed, but clinging still more to her sweet, gentle mamma. Mr. Travilla and she were the best of friends ; she was devotedly attached to her sister, and con- 878 ELSIE'S WOMANHOOD. adored it " very nice and funny," that she was aunt to wee Elsie and baby Eddie. " Oh," she cried, the moment she came into the room, " what is wee Elsie doing ? Mamma, may I, too r " " May you what ? " asked Rose. " Why, what is the child doing ? playing with your jewels, Elsie ? " asked Mr. Dinsmore in a tone of surprise, noticing for the first time what was the employment of his little grand- daughter. " Yes, papa ; but she is very careful, and I am watching her." " I should not allow it, if she were my child. No, Rosie, you may not ; you are not a careful little girl." Rosie was beginning to pout, but catching the stern look in her father's eye, quickly gave it up, her face clearing as if by magic. "Papa," Elsie asked in a low tone, "do you wish me to take away those costly playthings from my little girl?" "My dear daughter," he said, smiling ten- derly upon her, " I have neither the right nor the wish to interfere with you and your children ; especially when your husband approves of your management. I only fear you may suffer loss. How easy a valuable ring might slip through the little fingers and roll away into some crevice where it would never be found, " ELSIE'S WOMANHOOD. 27* "I'm afraid it is rather hazardous," she acknowledged. " Mammy, sit close to Elsie and keep a careful watch, lest she should drop something." "I begin to think there's truth in the old saw, ' It's hard to teach old dogs new tricks,' " remarked Mr. Travilla, with a comically rueful face. " I've a mind to give it up. "What do you say, Dinsmore ? " " That you wouldn't make a good soldier, if you are so easily conquered, Travilla." " Oh, fighting's another thing, but I'll per- severe as long as you do ; unless I find I'm weary- ing my teacher." " Perhaps you would learn faster with a better teacher," said Elsie, (f I am sure the fault is not in the scholar ; because I know he's bright and talented." " Ah ! then I shall 'xy harder than ever, to save your reputation ; but take a recess now, for here comes my boy, reaching out his arms to papa. Bring him here, Dinah. Papa's own boy, he looks beautiful and as bright as the day." " Mamma thinks he's a very handsome mixture of papa and grandpa," Elsie said, leaning over to caress the babe, now crowing in his father's arms. " I'm afraid he inherits too much of his grandpa's temper," remarked Mr. Dinsmore, but with a glance of loving pride bestowed ujpon the beautiful babe. 280 JSLBIE'S WOMANHOOD. rt I, for one, have no objection, provided he learns to control it as well," said Mr. Travilla ; "he will make the finer character." Little Elsie had grown weary of her play. " Put box way now, mammy," she said, get- ting np from her cushion ; " wee Elsie don't want any more. Mamma take ; Elsie so tired." The baby voice sounded weak and languid, and tottering to her mother's side, she almost fell into her lap. " Oh, my baby ! my precious darling, what is it ? " cried Elsie, catching her up in her arms. " Papa ! Edward ! she is dying ! " For the face had suddenly lost all its color the eyes were rolled upward, the tiny fists tightly clenched, and the little limbs had grown stiff and rigid on the mother's lap. Mr. Travilla hastily set down the babe, and turned to look at his little girl, his face full of alarm and distress. Mr. Dinsmore sprang to his daughter's side, and meeting her look of agony, said soothingly, "No, dearest, it is a spasm > ahe will soon be over it." " Yes ; don't be so terrified, dear child," said Rose, dropping her work and hurrying to Elsie's assistance; "they are not unusual with children ; I have seen both May and Daisy have them. Quick, Aunt Chloe ! a cloth dipped in spirits of turpentine, to lay over the stomach and ELSIE'S WOMANHOOD. B81 bowels, and another to put between her shoulders, It is the best thing we can do till we get a doctor here, But, ah, see ! it is already passing away." That was true ; the muscles were beginning to relax, and in another moment the eyes resumed their natural appearance, the hands were no longer clenched, and alow, plaintiye, "Mamma," came from the little lips. " Mamma is here, darling," Elsie said, amid her fast-dropping tears, covering the little wan face with kisses, as she held it to her bosom. "Thank God ! she is still ours !" exclaimed the father, almost under his breath ; then, a little louder, " Elsie, dear wife, I shall go at once for Dr. Channing, an English physician who hag been highly recommended to me." " Do, dear husband, and urge him to come at once," she answered, in a tone full of anxiety. He left the room, returning with the physi- cian within half an hour, to find the little girl asleep on her mother's breast. "Ah, I hope she is not going to be yery ill," said the doctor, taking gentle hold of her tiny wrist ' She seems easy now, and her papa tells me the spasm was of very short duration." She woke, apparently free from suffering, allowed her papa to take her, that mamma's weary arms might rest, and in the course of the afternoon even got down from his knee, and played about the room for a little while, but Ian- 282 ELSIE' 8 WOMANHOOD. guidly, and was eoon quite willing to be nursed again, " papa, grandpa, and Mamma Kose," as she lovingly called her young and fair step-grand- mother, taking turns in trying to relieve and amuse her. She was a most affectionate, unselfish little creature, and though longing to lay again her weary little head on mamma's breast, and feel the enfolding of mamma's dear arms, gave up without a murmur, when told that " poor mamma was tired with holding so big a girl for eo long," and quietly contented herself with the attention of the others. As the early evening hour which was the children's bed-time drew near, Elsie took her lit- tle girl again on her lap. " Mamma, pease talk to Elsie," pleaded the sweet baby voice, while the curly h^ad fell lan- guidly upon her shoulder, and a tin} uand, hoi and dry with fever, softly patted her chc^k. "What about, darling?" "'Bout Jesus, mamma. Do he love httk chillens ? do he love wee Elsie ? The gentle voice that answered was full of tears. " Yes, darling, mamma and papa, and dear grandpa too, love you more than tongue cau tell, but Jesus loves you better still." " Mamma, may Elsie go dere ? " " Where, my precious one ? " "To Jesus, mamma' Elsie ^ant to go see Jesus." ELSIE'S WOMANHOOD. 283 A sharp pang shot through the young moth- er's heart, and her arms tightened their clasp about the little form, while the hot tears chased each other adown her cheeks. One fell on the child's face. " What ! mamma ky ? Mamma don't want Elsie to go see Jesus ? Den Elsie will stay wis mamma and papa. Don't ky, Elsie's mamma ; " and feebly the little hand tried to wipe away her mother's tears. With a silent prayer for help to control her emotion, Elsie cleared her voice, and began in low, sweet tones the old, old story of Jesus and his lore, his birth, his life, his death. " Mamma, Elsie do loye Jesus ! " were the earnest words that followed the close of the nar- rative. "Say prayer now, and go bed. Elsie feel sick. Mamma, stay wis Elsie ?" "Yes, my precious one, mamma will stay close beside her darling as long as she wants her. You may say your little prayer kneeling in mamma's lap ; and then she will sing you to sleep." " Jesus like Elsie do dat way ? " "Yes, darling, when she's sick." Mamma's arms encircled and upheld the little form, the chubby hands were meekly folded, and the soft cheek rested against hers, while the few words of prayer faltered on the baby tongue. Then, the posture changed to a more restful 28* ELSIE'S WOMANHOOD. one, the sweet yoice, still full of tears, and often trembling with emotion, sang the little one to sleep. Laying her gently in her crib, Elsie knelt beside it, sending np a petition with strong crying and tears ; not that the young life might be spared, unless the will of God were so, but that she might be enabled to say, with all her heart, " Thy will be done." Ere she had finished, her husband knelt beside her asking the same for her and himself. They rose up together, and folded to his heart, she wept out her sorrow upon his breast. "You are very weary, little wife," he said tenderly, passing his hand caressingly over her hair and pressing his lips again and again to the heated brow. "It is rest to lay my head here," she whis- pered. " But you must not stand ; " and sitting down he drew her to the sofa, still keeping his arm about her waist. " Bear up, dear wife," he said, "we will hope our precious darling is not very ill." She told him of the child's words, and the sod foreboding that had entered her own heart "While there is life there is hope, dearest,* he said, with assumed cheerfulness. "Let us not borrow trouble. Does He not say to us, as to the disciples of old, ' It is I, be uot afraid ? '" ELSIE' 8 WOMANHOOD. 285 " Yes ; and she is His ; only lent to ns for a fsason ; and we dare not rebel should he see fit to recall his own," she answered, amid her tears. " Oh, Edward, I am so glad we indulged her thia morning in her wish to play with my jewels ! " " Yes ; she is the most precions of them all " he said with emotion. Aunt Chloe, drawing near, respectfully sug- gested that it might be well to separate the chil- dren, in case the little girl's illness Bhould proye to be contagious. " That is a wise thought, mammy," said Elsie, "Is it not Edward?" " Yes, wife ; shall we take our little daughter to our own bedroom, and leaye Eddie in posses- sion of the nursery ? " "Yes, I will neyer leaye her while she is ill." Weeks of anxious solicitude, of tenderest, most careful nursing, followed ; for the little one was yery ill, and for some time grew worse hour by hour. For days there was little hope that her life would be spared, and a solemn silence reigned through the house ; eyen the romping, fun-loying Horace and Rosie, awe-struck into stillness, and often shedding tears — Horace in private, fearing to he considered unmanly, but Rosie openly and without any desire of concealment — at the thought that the darling of the house was about to pass away from earth. Rote was filled with grief, the father, and 386 ELBIE'8 WOMANHOOD. grandfather were almost heart-broken. But the mother I That first night she had scarcely closed an eye, but continually her heart was going up in earnest supplications for grace and strength to meet this sore trial with patienoe, calmness, and submission. And surely the prayer was heard and an- swered ; day and night she was with her suffer- ing little one, watching beside its crib, or holding it in her arms, soothing it with tender words of mother love, or singing, in low sweet tones, of Jesus and the happy land. Plenty of excellent nurses were at hand, more than willing to relieve her of her charge ; but she would relinquish it to no one ; except when compelled to take a little rest that her strength might not utterly fail her. Even then she refused to leave the room, but lay where the first plaintive cry, " Mamma," would rouse her and bring her instantly to her darling's side. At times the big tears might be seen coursing down her cheek, as she gazed mournfully upon the baby face so changed from what it was ; but voice and manner were quiet and composed. Her husband was almost constantly at her sido, sharing the care, the grief and anxiety, and the a urging, so far as she would let him. Eose, too, and Mr. Dinsmore, were there every hour of the day, and often in the night, scarcely less anxious and grief -stricken than the parents, and Mr. Dins- EL81B*8 WOMANHOOD. 88? more especially, trembling for the life and health of the mother as well as the child. At length came a day when all knew and felt that wee Elsie was at the very brink of the grave, and the little thread of life might snap sounder at any moment. She lay on her pillow on her mother's lap, the limbs shrunken to half their former size, the face, but lately so beautiful with the bloom of health, grown wan and thin, with parched lips and half- closed, dreamy eyes. Mr. Travilla sat close bear'^ihem, with cup and spoon in hand, now and then moistening the dry lips. Chloe, who had stationed herself a little behind her mistress to be within call, was dropping great tears on the soldier's stocking in her hand. Mr. Dinsmore came softly in and stood by the little group, his features working with emotion. "My darling," he murmured, "my precious daughter, may God comfort and sustain you." " He does, papa," she answered in low, calm tones, as she raised her head and lilted her mournful eyes to his face ; " His consolations are not small in the trying hour." " You can give her up ? " he asked, in a chok- ing voice, looking with anguish upon the wasted features of his almost idolized grandchild. " Yes, papa — if He sees fit to take her ; 'twere but selfishness to want to keep her here, So safe, so happy will she be in Jesus' arms." $88 ELSIE'S WOMANHOOD Mr. Travilla's frame shook with emotion^ and Mr. Dinsinore was not less agitated ; but the mother was still calm and resigned. No sound had come from those little lips for hours ; hut now there was a faintly murmured " Mamma ! " " Yes, darling, mamma is here," Elsie an- swered, softly pressing a kiss on the white brow ; " what shall mamma do for her baby ? " " Jesus love wee Elsie ? " and the dreamy eyes unclosed and looked up into the sweet pale face bent so lovingly over her. " Elsie so glad. Mamma sing ( Happy land.' n The young mother's heart was like to burst, but with a silent prayer for strength, she controlled herself and sang low and sweetly, and even as she sang a change came over the child, and it fell into a deep, calm, natural sleep that lasted for hours All the time on the mother's lap, her eyes scarce moving from the dear little face ; her breath almost suspended, lest that life-giving slumber should be broken. In vain husband and father in turn entreated to be allowed to relieve her. " No , oh no ! " she whispered. " I cannot have her disturbed ; it might cost her life." This was the turning point in the disease, and from that time the little one began to amend. But very weak and frail, she was still in need oi weeks of continued tender, careful nursing. ELSIE'S WOMANHOOD. 289 " Mamma's lap " was the place preferred above all others : but patient and unselfish, she yielded without a murmur when united to the arms of papa, grandpa, Eose, or nurse, and told that "dear mamma was tired and needed rest." Elsie was indeed much reduced in health and strength ; but loye, joy, and thankfulness helped her to recuperate rapidly, 13 C|apttr Cknfu-i|irk "What fates impose, that men must ne.eda abide It boota not to reeiat both wind and tide." — ShjLKESPSASH'S HStfBT VI. From the time of Mr. Lincoln's election "ft al- ter Dinsmore's home nad been made very uncom- fortable to him ; after the fall of Sumter it was well-nigh unendurable. Never were two brothers more entirely unlike than he and Arthur ; the latter, selfish, proud, haughty, self-willed, passionate, and reckless of consequences to himself or others ; the former sweet- tampered, amiable, and affectionate, but lacking in firmness and self-reliance. Poor fellow ! his heart was divided ; on the one side were home, parents, friends, and neigh- bors, native State and section ; on the other, pride in the great, powerful Union he had hitherto called his country, love for the old flag as the emblem of its greatness and symbol of Revolutionary glory ; and — perhaps more potent than all — the wishes and entreaties of a Northern girl who had won his heart and promised him her hand. ELSIE'S WOMANHOGB*. 29 One April morning Walter, who had ovoi slept himself, having been np late the nignt before, was roused from his slumbers by a loud hurrah coming from the veranda below. He recognized his fathers voice, Arthur's, and that of one of the latter's particular friends, a hot secessionist residing in the adjaceut city. There seemed a great tumult in the house, running to and fro, loud laughter, repeated hur- rahs and voices — among which his mothers and Enna's were easily distinguished — talking in high, excited chorus. " So Fort Sumter has fallen, and war is fairly inaugurated," he sighed to himself, as he rose and began to dress. " It can mean nothing else." " Glorious news, Wal ! " cried Arthur, catch- ing sight of him as he descended the stairs ; " Fort Sumter has fallen and Charleston is jubi- lant. Here, listen while I read the despatch." Walter heard it in grave silence, and & A the close merely inquired how the news had come so early. " Johnson brought it ; has gone on now to Ashlands with it ; says the city's in a perfect furor of delight. But you, it seems, care noth- ing about it," Arthur concluded with a malig- nant sneer. " Not a word of rejoicing over this glorious Tictory " — cried Enna angrily. " Of seven thousand over seventy-five ? " 292 ELSIE'S WOMANHOOD "If I were papa, I'd turn you out of ths house ; " she exclaimed still more hotly. " Walter, I have no patience with you," said his father. " To think that son of mine should turn against his'own country! " he added, with a groan. " No, father, I could never do that," Walter answered with emotion. " It looks very much like it — the utter indiffer- ence with which you receive this glorious news 1 n cried Mrs. Dinsmore with flashing eyes. "I'm positively ashamed of you." " No, mother, not with indifference, far from it ; for it inaugurates a war that will drench the land with blood." " Nonsense ! the North will never fight. A race of shop-keepers fighting for a sentiment, poh ! But come to breakfast, there's the bell. " " Better," says Solomon, ' ' is a dinner of herbs where love is, than a stalled ox and hatred there- with." The luxurious breakfast at Roselands was partaken of with very little enjoyment that morn- ing ; by Walter especially, who had to bear contempt and ridicule ; threats also : he was called a Yankee, coward, poltroon, traitor, and threatened with disinheritance and denounce- ment unless he would declare himself for the Confederacy and enlist in its army. The meal was but half over when he rose with Hashing eyes, pale face, and quivering lips. "I am neither a traitor nor a coward " he said ELSIE 8 WOMANHOOD 293 between his clenched teeth, " as perhaps time may prove to the sorrow of a father and mother^ sister and brother, who can so use one who ill deserves such treatment at their hands. " And turning, he stalked proudly from the room. Enna was beginning a sneering remark, but her father stopped her. " Hush ! we have been too hard on the lad ; he was always slower than Art about making up his mind, and Fve no doubt will turn out all right in the end." Soon after breakfast the father and mother had a private talk on the subject, and agreed to try coaxing and entreaties. " Wal always had a warm heart," remarked Mr. Dinsmore finally, " and I dare say can be reached more readily through that." " Yes, he was your favorite always, while you have been very hard upon poor Arthur's youthful follies ; but you see now which is the more worthy of the two." Mr. Dinsmore shook his head. "Not yet, wife ; 'tisn't always the braggart that turns out bravest in time of trial." " Yes, we shall see," she answered, with a slight toss of her haughty head. " I trust no son of mine will prove himself so cowardly as to run away from his country in her time of need, on whatevei pretext." Acd having winged this shaft, perceiving 294 ELSIE'S WOMANHOOD with pleasure that her husband winced slightly tinder it, she sailed from the room, ascending the stairway, and presently paused before the door of Walter's dressing-room. It was slightly ajar; and pushing it gently open she entered without knocking. He stood leaning against the mantel, his tali erect figure, the perfection of manly grace, his eyes fixed thoughtful ly upon the carpet, and hi8 fine, open, expressive countenance full of a noble sadness. There was something of motherly pride in the glance that met his as he looked up at the sound of Mrs. Dinsm ore's step. Starting forward, he gallantly handed her to a seat : then stood respectfully waiting for what she had to say. " Walter, ray dear boy," she began ; " your father and I think we were all a trifle hard on you this morning." He colored slightly but made no remark, and she went on. " Of course we can't believe it possible that a son of ours will ever show himself a coward ; but it is very trying to us, very morti- fying, to have you holding back in this way till all our neighbors and friends begin to hint that you are disloyal to your native State, and look scornful and contemptuous at the very mention of your name. " Walter took a turn or two across the room, and coming back to her side, " Mother," said he, ELSIE'S WOMANHOOD. 29| M you know it is my nature to be slow in deciding any matter of importance, and this is the weighs iest one that ever I had to consider. Men nraeh older and wiser than I are finding it a knotty question to which their loyalty is due, State or General Government ; where allegiance to the one ends, and fealty to the other begins." " There is no question in my mind," she inter- rupted, angrily. " Of course your allegiance is due to your State ; so don't let me hear any more about that. Your father and brother never hesitated for a moment ; and it would become you to be more ready to be guided by them." "Mother," he said, with a pained look, "you forget that I am no longer a boy ; and you would De the first to despise a man who could not form an opinion of his own. All I ask is time to decide this question and — another." " Pray what may that be ? whether you will break with Miss Aller, I presume," she retorted, sneeringly. " No, mother," he answered with dignity ; u there is no question in my mind in regard to that. Mary and I are pledged to each other, and nothing but death can part us." "And" (fiercely) "you would marry her 5 though she is ready to cheer on the men who are coming to invade our homes and inv olvo us in the horrors of a servile insurrection ! " " I think it is hardly an hour since I heard 896 ELSIE'S WOMANHOOD. you saj the North would not fight ; and since we have shown our determination in capturing Sumter, the next news would be that we were to be allowed to go in peace. You may be right ; I hope you are ; but the fellows I know in the North are as full of pluck as ourselves, and I fear there is a long, fierce, bloody struggle before us." He stood before her with folded arms and grave, earnest face, his eyes meeting hers un- flinchingly. "And ere I rush into it I want to know that I am ready for death and for judg- ment." " No need to hesitate on that account," she said, with a contemptuous smile ; " you've always been a remarkably upright young man, and I'm sure are safe enough. Besides, I haven't a doubt that those who die in defence of their country go straight to heaven." He shook his head. " I have been studying the Bible a good deal of late, and I know that that would never save my soul. " " This is some of Horace's and Elsie's work ; I wish they would attend to their own affairs and let you and others alone. " And she rose and swept angrily from the room. Walter did not appear at dinner, nor was he eeen again for several days ; but as such absences were not infrequent — he having undertaken a sort of general oversight of both the Oaks and Ion — thii excited no alarm. SL8IE'8 WOMAMBOOD. %$*( The first day in fact was spent at Ion ; the next he rode oyer to the Oaks. Mrs. Murray always made him very comfortable, and was delighted to haye the opportunity ; for the place was lonelj for her in the absence of the family. She was on the yeranda as he rode up that morn- ing attended by his seryant. "Ah, Mr. Walter/' she cried, "'but I'm glad to see you ! You're a sight for sair een, sir. I hope ye'ye come to stay a bit." He had giyen the reins to his seryant and dismounted. " Yes," he said, shaking hands with her, "for two or three days, Mrs. Murray." " That's gude news, sir. Will ye come in and take a bite or sup o' something ? " " Thank you, not now. I'll just sit here for a moment. The air is delightful this morning." "So it is, sir. And do ye bring on y" news frae our friends in Naples r " " No ; I haye heard nothing since I saw you last." "But what's this, Mi. Walter, that I heai the servants saying aboot a fight wi' the United States troops ? " "Fort Sumter has fallen, Mrs. Murray. There's an account of the whole affair," he added, taking a newspaper from his pocket and handing it to her. She receiyed it eagerly, and with a heart? thanks. 13* $98 ELBIE'B WOMANHOOD "lam going out into the grounds," he said and walked away, leaving her to its persual. He strolled down a green alley, inspected it, the lawns, the avenue, the flower and vegetable gardens, to see that all were in order ; held a few minutes' conversation with the head gardener, making some suggestions and bestowing deserved praise of his faithful performance of his duties ; then wandering on, at length seated himself in Elsie's bower, and took from Ms breast-pocket — where he had constantly carried it of late — a email morocco-bound, gilt-edged volume. He sat there a long time, reading and ponder- ing with grave, anxious face, it may be asking for heavenly guidance too, for his eyes were now and then uplifted and his lips moved. The next day and the next he spent at the Oaks, passing most of his time in solitude, either m the least frequented parts of the grounds, or the lonely and deserted rooms of the mansion. Walter had always been a favorite with Mrs. Murray. She had a sort of motherly affection for him, and watching him furtively, felt sure that he had some heavy mental trouble. She waited and watched silently, hoping that he would confide in her and let her sympathize, if she could do nothing more. On the evening of the third day he came in from the grounds with a brightened countenance. his little book in his hand- She was on xae ELSIE'S WOMANHOOD 39$ veranda looking out for him to ask if he was ready for his tea. He met her with a smile. " Is it glide news, Mr. Walter ? * she asked, thinking of the distracted state of the country. " Yes, Mrs. Murray, I think you will call it so, I have been searching here," and he held up the little volume, " for the pearl of great price ; and I have found it. " "Dear bairn, I thank God for ye!" she exclaimed with emotion. "It's gude news indeed!" " I cannot think how I've been so blind," he went on in earnest tones ; "it seems now so sim- ple and easy — just to believe in Jesus Christ, receive his offered pardon, his righteousness put npon me, the cleansing of hi3 blood shed for the remission of sins, and trust my all to Him for time and eternity, Now I am ready to meet death on the battle-field, if so it must be." " But, Mr. Walter, I hope you'll be spared that, and live to be a good soldier of Christ these many years." They were startled by the furious galloping of a horse coming up the drive ; and the next mo- ment Arthur drew rein before the door, " Walter ; so vou're here, as I thought ! I've come for you. Lincoln has called for seventy- five thousand troops to defend the capital ; but we all know what that means — an invasion of the South, The North's a unit now, and so is the BOO JSLSIE'S WOMANHOOD. South. Davis has called for volunteers, and the war-cry is resounding all over the land. We're raising a company : I'm appointed captain, and you lieutenant. Come ; if you hesitate now— you'll repent it : father says he'll disown you forever." Arthur's utterance was fierce and rapid, but now he was compelled to pause for breath, and Walter answered with excitement in his tones also. " Of course if it has come to that, I will not hesitate to defend my native soil, my home, my parents." " All right ; come on then ; we leave to- night." Walter's horse was ordered at once, and in a few moments the brothers were galloping away side by side. Mrs. Murray looked after them with a sigh. " Ah me ! the poor laddies ! will they die on the battle-field ? Ah, wae's me, but war's an awfu' thing ! " At Eoselands all was bustle and excitement, every one eager, as it seemed, to hasten the depar- ture of the young men. But when everything was ready and the final adieus must be spoken, the mother embraced them with tears and sobs, and even Enna's voice fal- tered and her eyes grew moist. Mounting, they rode rapidly down the avenue- ELSIE'S WOMAXEOOU, 301 each followed by his own servant— and out %t the great gate, Walter wheeled his horse. 'One last look at the old home, Art," he said ; "wo say never see it again." " Always sentimental, "Wal," laughed Arthur. somewhat scornfully; "but have your way, 5J And he, too, wheeled about for a last farewell look. The moon had just risen, and by her silvery light the lordly mansion — with its clustering vines, the gardens, the lawn, the shrubbery, and the grand old trees— was distinctly visible. Never had the place looked more lovely. The evening breeze brought to their nostrils the delicious scent of roses in full bloom, and a nightingale poured forth a song of ravishing sweetness from a thicket hard by. Somehow her song seemed to go to Walter's very heart and a sad foreboding oppressed him as they gazed and listened for several moments. then turned their horses' heads and galloped dowu the road. €\tykx f taijr-faudjj. •* Is't death to fall for Freedom's right T He's dead alone who lacks her light" — Caxfexxa, Wee Elsie was convalescing rapidly, and the hearts so wrung with anguish at sight of her suf- ferings and the fear of losing her, relieved from that, were again filled with the intense anxiety for their country, which for a short space had been half forgotten in the severity of the trial apparently so close at hand. Mails from America came irregularly ; now and then letters and papers from Philadelphia, New York, and other parts of the North ; very seldom anything from the South. What was going on in their homes ? what were their dear relatives and friends doing and enduring ? were questions they were often asking of themselves or each other — questions answered by a sigh only, or a shake of the head. The sus- pense was hard to bear ; but who of all Ameri- cans, at home or abroad, who loved their native land, were not suffering at this time from anx- iety a^.d suspense ? ELSIE'S WOMANHOOD 303 " A vessel came in last night, which I hope has a mail for us," remarked Mr. Dinsmore aa they sat down to the breaidast table one morning early in November. " I .aave sent Uncle Joe to find ont ; and bring it, if there." " Ah, if it should bring the glorious news that this dreadful war is over, and all our dear ones safe ! " sighed Eose. " Ah, no hope of that,' returned her husband. "I think all are well-nigh convinced now that it will last for years : the enlistments now, you remember, are for three years or the war." Uncle Joe's errand was not done very speedily, and on his return he found the family collected in the drawing-room. " Good luck dis time, massa," he said, addressing Mr. Dinsmore, as he handed Mm the mail bag, "lots ob papahs an' lettahs." Eagerly the others gathered about the head of the household. Kose and Elsie, pale and trem- bling with excitement and apprehension, Mr. Travilla, grave and quiet, yet inwardly impatient of a moment's delay. It was just the same with Mr. Dinsmore ; in a trice he had unlocked the bag and emptied its con- tents — magazines, papers, letters — upon a table. Rose's eye fell upon a letter, deeply edged with black, which bore her name and address in May's handwriting. She snatched it up with a sharp cry, and sank, half-fainting, into a chair 304: ELSIE'S WOMANHOOD Hei husband and Elsie were instantly afc hei side. " Dear wife, my love, my darling ! this if terrible ; but the Lord will sustain you." " Mamma, dearest mamma ; oh that I could comfort you ! " Mr. Travilla brought a glass of water. " Thank you ; I am better now ; I can beai it," she murmured faintly, la;rng her head on hei husband's shoulder. " Open — read — tell me." Elsie, in compliance with a sign from hei father, opened the envelope and handed him the letter. Glancing over it, he read in low, moved tones. " Eose, Rose, how shall I tell it ? Freddie is dead, and Ritchie sorely wounded — both in that dreadful, dreadful battle at Ball's Bluff ; both shot while trying to swim the river. Freddie killed instantly by a bullet in his brain, but Ritchie swam to shore, dragging Fred's body with him ; then fainted from fatigue, pain, and losa of blood. " Mamma is heart-broken — indeed we all arw —and papa seems to have suddenly grown many years older. Oh, we don't know how to bear it ! and yet we are proud of our brave boys. Ed- ward went on at once, when the sad news reached us; brought Ritchie home to be nursed, and — and Freddie's body to be buried. Oh ! what a heart-breaking scene it was when they arrived I r MLSIE'8 WOMANHOOD, 30§ " Harold, poor Harold, couldn't come home ; they wouldn't give him a furlough eyen for a day, Edward went, the day after the funeral, and enlisted, and Eitcbie will go back as soon as hia wound heals. He says that while our men stood crowded together on the river bank, below the bluff, where they could neither fight nor retreat, and the enemy were pouring their shot into them from the heights, Fred came to him, and grasp- ing his hand said, 'Dear Dick, if a not likely either of us will come out of this alive ; but if you do and I don't, tell mother and the rest not to grieve ; for I know in whom I have believed. 3 Bemember, dear Eoee, this sweet message is fos you as well as for us. " Your loving sister, "May Alu30S". w Eose, who had been clinging about her hus- band's neck and hiding her face on his shoulder, vainly striving to suppress her sobs during the reading, now burst into a fit of hysterical weeping. "Oh Freddie, Freddie, my little brother ! my darling brother, how can I bear to think I shall never, never see you again in this world I Oh Horace, he was always so bright and sweet 3 the very sunshine of the house." " Yes, dearest, but remember his dying mes- sage ; think of his perfect happiness now. He 806 SLBIB'8 WOMANHOOD. is free from all sin and sorrow, done with tne weary marchings and fightings, the hunger and thirst, cold and heat and fatigue of war ; no longer in danger from shot or bursting shell, or of lying wounded and suffering on the battle- field, or languishing in hospital or prison." " Yes," she sighed, " 1 should rather mourn for poor wounded Eitchie, for Harold and Edward, still exposed to all the horrors of war. Oh, when will it end ? — this dreadful, dreadful war ! " All were weeping; for all had known and loyed the bright, frank, noble-hearted, genial young man. But Eose presently became more composed, and Mr. Travilla proceeded with the distribution of the remaining letters. " From Adelaide, doubtless, and I presume containing the same sad news," Mr. Dinsmore said, breaking the seal of another black-edged epistle, directed to him. "Yes, and more," he added, with a groan, as he ran his eye down the page. " Dick Percival was killed in a skirmish last May ; and Enna is a widow. Poor fellow, 1 fear he was ill prepared to go." Mr. Travilla had taken up a newspaper. "Here is an account of that Ball's Bluff affair, which seems to have been very badly managed on the part of the Federals. Shall 1 read fo aloud ? " ELBIK'8 WOMANHOOD SOf "Oh, yes, yes, if yon please," sobbed Rose ; "let us know all." " Badly managed, indeed," was Mr. Dins- more's comment at the conclnsion, " it looks very like the work of treason." "And my two dear brothers were part ol the dreadful sacrifice," moaned Rose. " But oh ! how brave, noble, and unselfish they, and many others, showed themselves i^ that awful hour," said Elsie amid her sobs and tears. " Dear mamma, doesn't that comfort you a little ? " "Yes, dear child. Freddie's sweet message still more. Oh, I need not mourn for him I * Cjppttr Ckrrfj-fifiJ. M Liberty ! Freedom ! tyranny is dead ! —Bui aence, proclaim, cry it about the streets," — Shaekspsam's Julius Cssab. Thb winter of 1861-62 wore wearily away, the Great Republic still convulsed with all the horrors of the civil war ; and the opening spring witnessed no abatement of the fearful strife. During all these months nothing unusual had occurred in the family of our friends at Naples ; but one lovely morning in April a sweet floweret blossomed among them ; bringing joy and glad- ness to all hearts. " Our little violet, " Elsie 3aid, smiling up at the happy face of her husband, as he bent over her and the babe. " She has come to us just as her namesakes in America are lifting their pretty heads among the grass." " Thank you, darling," he answered, softly touching his lips to her cheek ; " yes, we will give her my mother's name, and may she inherit her lovely disposition also." JBLBIB 8 WOMANHOOD. UW " I should be so glad, dear mothers was as lovely a character as I ever knew." " Our responsibilities are growing, love i 'three precious little ones now to train up for use- fulness here and glory hereafter. " " Yes," she said, with grave yet happy face ; " and who is sufficient for these things ? " " Our sufficiency is of God ! " " And he has promised wisdom to those who efik it What a comfort. I should like to show this pretty one to Walter. Where is he now, I wonder, poor fellow ? " Ah, though she knew it not, he was then lying cold in death upon the bloody field of Shiloh. There had been news now and then from their Northern friends and relatives. Kichard Allison had recovered from his wound, and was again in the field. Edward was with the army also ; Harold, too, and Philip Eoss. Lucy was, like many others who had strong ties in both sections and their armies, weli-nigh distracted with grief and fear. From their relatives in the South the last news received had been that of the death of Dick Percival, nor did any further news reach there until the next November. Then they heard that Enna had been married again to another Confed- erate officer, about a year after her first husband's death; that Walter had fallen at Shiloh, that Arthur was killed in the battle of Iuka> and thai 310 ELSIE'S WOMANHOOD his mother, hearing of it just as she was con^ valescing from an attack of fever, had a relapse and died a few days after. Great was the grief of all for Walter ; Mr, Dinsmore mourned very much for his father also, left thus almost alone in his declining years. No particulars were given in regard to tho deaths of the two young men. " Oh," cried Elsie, as she wept over Walter's loss, "what would I not give to know that he was ready for death ! But surelv we may rejoice in the hope that ho was ; since we nave offered so much united prayer for him." " Yes," returned her father, " for 'If two of you shall agree on earth, as touching anything that they shall ask, it shall be done for them of my Father which is in heaven ' ; and God's promises are all 'yea and amen in Christ Jesus.'" " Papa," said Horace, " how can it be that good Christian men are fighting and killing each other ? " " It is a very strange thing, my son ; yet un- doubtedly true that there are many true Chris- tians on both sides. They do not see alike, and each is defending what he believes a righteous sause." ** Listen all," said Mrs. Dinsmore, who was reading a letter from Daisy, her youngest sister. *' Richard is ill in the hospital at Washington, and May has gone on to nurse him. Dr. King, ELSIE 8 WOMANHOOD, 811 of Lansdale, Ohio, is there acting as volunteer surgeon, and ha3 Lottie with him. She will be company for our May. Don't worry about Ritchie ; May writes that he is getting better last" Rose smiled as she read the last sentence. " What is it, mamma ? " asked Elsie. " Nothing much ; only I was thinking how greatly Ritchie seemed to admire Miss King at the time of the wedding." " Well, if he loses his heart I hope ne will get another in exchange." " Why, Sister Elsie, how could Uncle Ritchie lose his heart ? did they shoot a hole so it might drop out ? " queried Rosebud in wide-eyed wonder. " I hope the doctors will sew up the place quick 'fore it does fall out," she added, with a look of deep concern. " Poor, dear Uncle Wal is killed," she sobbed ; " and Uncle Art too, and I don't want all my uncles to die or to be killed." " We will ask G-od to take care of them, dear daughter," said Rose, caressing the little weeper, " and we know that he is able to do it." One day in the following January — 1863 — the gentlemen went into the city for a few hours, leaving their wives and children at home. They returned with faces full of excitement "What news?" queried both ladies in s breath. $12 ELSIE'S WOMANHOOD " Lincoln has issued an Emancipation Proc- lamation freeing all the blacks." There was a momentary pause : then Hose said, " If it puts an end to this dreadful war, I shall not be sorry." " Nor I," said Elsie. "Perhaps yon don't reflect that it takes a good deal out of our pockets," remarked heT father. ' ' Several hundred thousand from yours." " Yes, papa, I know ; but we will not be very poor. I alone have enough left to keep us all comfortably. If I were only sure it would add to the happiness of my poor people, I should rejoice over it. But I am sorely troubled to know what has, or will become of them. It is more than two years now, since we have heard a word from Viamede." " It is very likely we shall find nothing but ruins on all our plantations — Viamede, the Oaks, Ion, and Roselands," remarked Mr. Dinsmore, pacing to and fro with an anxious and disturbed countenance. "Let us hope for the best," Mr. Travilla responded cheerfully ; " the land will still be there, perhaps the houses too ; the negroes will work for wages, and gradually we may be able to restore our homes to what they were." " And if the war stops now, we shall probably find them still in pretty good condition," said Elsie, ELSIE" 8 WOMANHOOD, 313 ** No," her father said, " the war is not at an and, or likely to be for a long time to come ; but we will wait in patience and hope, daughter, and not grieve oyer losses that perhaps may bring great happiness to others." " Are we poor now, papa ? " asked Horace anxiously. " No, son ^ your sister is still very wealthy, and we all haye comfortable incomes." "It did me good to see Uncle Joe's delight oyer the news," Mr. Trayilla smilingly remarked to his wife. " Ah, you told him then ? " she returned, with a keen interest and pleasure. " Yes, and it threw him into a transport of joy. 'Ki! massa,' he said, 'neber tink to heyah sich news as dat 1 neber spects dis chile lib to see freedom come ; ' then sobering down, ' but, massa, we's been a prayin' for it ; we's been crying to the good Lord like the chillen ob Israel when dey's in de house ob bondage ; tou- sands an' tousands ob us cry day an' night, an' de Lord heyah, an' now de answer hab come. Bress de Lord ! Bress his holy name foreber an' eber.' " ' And what will you do with your liberty, Uncle Joe ? ' I asked ; then he looked half- frightened. ' Massa, you ain't gwine to send us off ? we lub you an' Miss Elsie an' de chillen, an' we's gettin' mos' too ole to start out new to! ourselves.' " 14 S14 ELSIE'S WOMANHOOD. "Well, dear, I hope you assured him that he had nothing to fear on that score." " Certainly ; I told him they were free to go or stay as they liked, and as long as they were with, or near us, we would see that they were made comfortable. Then he repeated, with great earnestness, that he loved us all, and could neve? forget what you had done in restoring him to his wife, and making them both so comf 01 table and happy." " Yes, I think they have been happy with us s and probably it was the bitter remembrance of the sufferings of his earlier life that made free- dom seem so precious a boon to him." Going into the nursery half an hour later, Elsie was grieved and surprised to find Ohloe sit- ting by the crib of the sleeping babe, crying and sobbing as if her very heart would break, her head bowed upon her knees, and the sobs half- smothered, lest they should disturb the child. " Why, mammy dear, what is the matter ? " ehe asked, going to her and laying a hand tenderly on her shoulder. Chloe slid to her knees, and taking the soft white hand in both of hers, covered it with kisses and tears, while her whole frame shook with her bitter weeping. " Mammy, dear mammy, what is it ? " Elsie asked in real alarm, quite forgetting for the mo- ment the news of the morning, which indeed ELSIE'S WOMANHOOD. 316 &-» o.ould never have expected to cause such dinress. " Dis chile don't want no freedom, * sobbed che poor eld creature at length, "she lubs to blong to her darlin' young missi3 : Uncle Joe he sing an' jump an' praise de Lord, 'cause free- dom come, but your ole mammy don't want no freedom ; she can't go for to leave you, Miss Elsie, her bressed darlin' chile dat she been done take care ob ever since she bom." "Mammy dear, you shall never leave me except of your own free will," Elsie answered, in tender soothing tones. "'Come, get up, and don't cry any more. Why, it would come as near breaking my heart as yours, if we had to part. Ys 7 hat could I or my babies ever do with- out our old mammy to look after our comfort ! " " Bress your heart, honey, you'se alius good an' kind to your ole mammy," Chloe said, check- ing her sobs and wiping away her tears, as she slowly rose to her feet ; "de Lord bress you an' keep you. Now let your mammy gib you one good hug, like when you little chile." " And many times since," said Elsie, smiling sweetly into the tear-swollen eyes of her faithful old nurse, and not only submitting to, but return- ing the embrace. <%pttT &fotti%-SKf|. u And faint not, heart of man 1 though years wane slow ! There have heen those that from the deepest cavea, And cells of night and fastnesses helow The stormy dashing of the ocean waves, Down, farther down than gold lies hid, have nnre'd A quenchless hope, and watch'd their time and bnnst On the bright day like wakeners from the grave " —Mrs. HsvAjra. Nook of a sultry July day, 1864 ; the scorch- ing sun looks down upon a pine forest ; in it* midst a cleared space some thirty acres in extent, surrounded by a log stockade ten feet high, the timbers set three feet deep into the ground ; a star fort, with one gun at each corner of the square enclosure ; on top of the stockade sentinel boxes placed twenty feet apart, reached by steps from the outside ; in each of these a vigilant guard with loaded musket, constantly on the watch for the slightest pretext for shooting down some one or more of the prisoners, of whom there are from twenty-five thousand to thirty thousand. All along the inner side of the wall, six feet from it, stretches a dead line ; and any poor fel- low thoughtlessly or accidentally laying a hand ELSIE'S WOMANHOOD 81? upon it, or allowing any part of his body to reach under or oyer it, will be instantly shot. A green , slimy, sluggish stream, bringing with it all the filth of the sewers of Anderson ville, a tillage three miles distant, flows directly across the enclosure from east to west. Formerly, the only water fit to drink came from a spring be- yond the eastern wall, which flowing under it, into the enclosure, emptied itself into the other stream, a few feet within the dead line. It did not suffice to satisfy the thirst of the thousands who must drink or die, and the little corner where its waters could be reached waa always crowded, men pressing upon each other till often one or another would be pushed against the dead line, shot by the guard, and the body left lying till the next morning ; eyen if it had fallen into the water beyond the line, polluting the scant supply left for the Hying. But the cry of these perishing ones had gone up into the eari of the merciful Father of us all, and of late a spring of clear water bubbles up in their midst. But powder and shot, famine, exposure (foi the prisoners haye no shelter, except as they bur- row in the earth), and malaria from that sluggish^ Slthy stream, and the marshy ground on eithei side of it, are doing a fearful work : eyery morn« lug a wagon drawn by four mules is driyen in, and the corpses — scattered here and there to tha number of from eighty- five to a hundred — gath- 318 ELSIE'S WOMANHOOD, ered up, tossed into it like sticks of wood, takes away and thrown promiscuously into a hole dug for the purpose, and earth shovelled over them. There are corpses lying about now ; there are jien, slowly breathing out their last of life, with no dying bed, no pillow save the hard ground, no mother, wife, sister, daughter near, to weep over, or to comfort them as they enter the dark valley. Others there are, wasted and worn till scarce more than living skeletons, creeping about on hands and feet, lying or sitting in every attitude of despair and suffering ; a dull, hopeless misery in their sunken eyes, a pathetic patience fit to touch a heart of stone ; while others still have grown frantic with that terrible pain, the hunger gnawing at their very vitals, and go staggering about, wildly raving in their helpless agony. And on them all the scorching sun beats piti- lessly down. Hard, cruel fate ! scorched with heat, with the cool shelter of the pine forests on every side ; perishing with hunger in a land of plenty. In one corner, but a yard or so within the dead line, a group of officers in the Federal uni- form — evidently men of culture and refinement, spite of their hatless and shoeless condition, ragged, soiled raiment, unkempt hair, and un- shaven faces — sit on the ground, like their com- rades in misfortune, sweltering in the sun. ELSIE'S WOMANHOOD. •' When will this end ? " sighs one. " I'd sooner die a hundred deaths on the battle-field.* 5 *'Ah, who wouldn't?" exclaims another; u to starve, roast, and freeze by turns for one's country, requires more patriotism by far than to march up to the cannon's mouth, or charge up bill under a galling fire of musketry." " True indeed, Jones," returns a fair-haired, blue-eyed young man, with face so gaunt and hazard with famine that his own mother would GO scarcely have recognized him, and distinguished from the rest by a ball and chain attached to wrist and ankle ; "and yet we bear it for her sake and for Freedom's, Who of us regrets that we did not stay at home in inglorious ease, and leave our grand old ship of state to founder and go to pieces amid the rock3 of secession ? " "None of us, Allison ! No, no ! the Union forever ! " returned several voices in chorus. "Hark !" — as the sharp crack of a rifle was heard, and a prisoner who, half crazed with suf- fering, had, in staggering about, approached too near the fatal line and laid a hand upon it, fell dead — "another patriot soul has gone to iis account, and another rebel earned a thirty days' furlough. " The dark eyes of the speaker flashed with indignation. " Poor fellows, they don't know that it is to pre§erve their liberties we fight, starve, and die ; 6M ELSIE'S WOMANHOOD. fco save them from the despotism their ambitious and unscrupulous leaders desire to establish over them," remarked Harold Allison ; "how grossly the masses of the Southern people have been deceived by a few hot-headed politicians, bent upon obtaining power for themselves at what ever cost." " True," returned the other, drily ; "but it's just a little difficult to keep these things in mind under present circumstances. By the way, Alli- son, have you a sister who married a Mr. Horace Dinsmore ? " " Yes, do you know Rose ? " asked Harold, in some surprise. " I was once a guest at the Oaks for a fort night or so, at the time of the marriage of Miss Elsie, Mr. Dinsmore's daughter, to a Mr. Travilla." Harold's face grew a shade paler, but his tones were calm and quiet. " Indeed ! and may I ask your name ? " "Harry Duncan, at your service," returned the other, with a bow and smile. " I met your three brothers there, also your sisters, Mrs. Car< rington and Miss May Allison." The color deepened slightly on Harry's cheek as he pronounced the last name. The pretty face, graceful form, charming manners, and sprightly conversation of the young lady were still fresh in his memory. Having enjoyed the ELSIE'S WOMANHOL hospitalities of Andersonville for but a few flays, he was in better condition, as to health and clothing, than the rest of the group, who had been there for months. " Harry Duncan ! " exclaimed Harold, offer- ing his hand, which the other took in a cordial grasp and shook heartily, "yes, I know ; I have heard of you and your aunt, Miss Stanhope. 1 feel as if I'd found a brother." "Thank you ; suppose we consider ourselves such ; a brother is what I've been hankering after ever since I can remember." "Agreed," said Harold. "Perhaps," he added, with a melancholy smile, "we may find the fiction turned to fact some day, if you and one of my single sisters should happen to take a fancy to each other ; that is, if we live to get out of this and to see home again." His tone at the last was very desponding. " Cheer up," said Duncan, in a low, sympa- thizing tone, "I think we can find a way to escape ; men have done so even from the Bastile ^— a far more difficult task, I should say." "What's your idea?" " To dig our way out, working at night, and covering up the traces of our work by day." " Yes, it's the only way possible, so far aa I can see," said Harold. " I have already escaped twice in that way, but only to be retaken, and this is what I gained," shaking hii chain, and 14* 322 ELSIE'S WOMANHOOD. pointing to the heavy ball attached. 4 Yet, if I were rid of this, and possessed of a little more strength, I'd make a third attempt." " I think I could rid yoa of that little attach- ment," returned Duncan ; "and the tunnel once ready, help you in the race for liberty." The others of the group were exchanging sig- nificant nods and glances. " I think we may let Duncan into our secret," said Jones. " We're digging a well ; have gone down six feet ; three feet below the surface ia soapstone, so soft we can cut it with our jack- knives. We mean to work our way out to-night Will you join us ?" "With all my heart." "Suppose we are caught in the attempt," said one. "We can't be in much worse condition than now," observed another ; " starving in this pes- tiferous atmosphere filled with the malaria from that swamp, and the effluvia from half-decayed corpses ; men dying every day, almost every hour, from famine, disease, or violence." " No," said Harry, " we may bring upon our- selves what Allison is enduring, or instant death ; but I for one would prefer the latter to the slow torture of starvation." "If we are ready," said Harold, in low, solemn tones. " It is appointed to men once to die, and after that tUe judgment " ELSiE-S WOMANHOOD. 323 41 And what should you say was the needful preparation ? " queried another, half -mockingly. "'Kepent ye and 'believe the gospel.' 'Let the wicked forsake his way and the unrighteous man his thoughts, and let him return unto the Lord and he will have mercy upon him ; and to our God, for he will abundantly pardon,' ' Be- lieve on the Lord Jesus Christ and thou shalt be saved.' " Silence fell on the little group. Duncan's eye3 wandered over the field, over the thousands of brave men herded together there like cattle, with none of the comforts, few of the necessa- ries of life — over the living, the dying, the dead ; taking m the whole aggregate of suffering with one sweeping glance. His eyes filled ; his whole soul was moved with compassion, while he half forgot that he himself was one of them. How much were the consolations of God needed here ! how few, comparatively, possessed them. But some there were who did, and were trying to impart them to others. Should he stay and share in this good work ? Perhaps he ought ) he almost thought so for a moment ; but he remembered his country's need ; he had enlisted for the war ; he must return to active service, if he could. Then his eye fell upon Harold. Here was a noble life to be saved ; a life that would inevit- ably be lost to friends, relatives, country, by but 324 ELSIE'S WOMANHGOD. a few weeks' longer sojourn in this horrible place. Duncan's determination was taken : with the help of God the morning light should find them both free and far on their way toward the Union lines. " We'll try it, comrades, to-night," he said aloud. "So we will," they answered with determi- nation. A man came staggering toward them, gesticu- lating wildly and swearing horrible oaths. "He is crazed with hunger, poor fellow," remarked Ilarold. Duncan was gazing steadily at the man who had now sunk panting upon the ground, ex- hausted by hi3 own violence. Evidently he had once possessed more than an ordinary share of physicial beauty, but vice and evil passions had set their stamp upon his features, and famine had done its ghastly work ; he was but a wreck of his former self. " Where have I seen that face ? " murmured Harry, unconsciously thinking aloud. " In the rogues' gallery, perhaps. Tom Jack- jon is his name, or one of his names ; for he has several aliases, I'm told," remarked some one standing near. " Yes, he's the very man ! " exclaimed Harry. "I have studied his photograph and recognize him fully, in spite of famine's ravages. The ELSIE'S WOMANHOOD. BM wretch ! he deserves all he suffers : and yet I pity him." " What ! the would-be assassin of Yiamede ? w and Harold started to hi3 feet, the hot bloo3 dying his thin cheeks. " The same. You feel like lynching him on the spot ; and no wonder. But refrain ; they would bid you, and he is already suffering a worse fate than any you could mete out to him." " God forgive me ! " groaned Harold, drop- ping down again and hiding his face in his hands, " I believe there was murder in my heart." "The story? what was it?" asked Jones. " Tell it, Duncan ; anything to help us to a moment's forgetfulness." The others joined in the request, and Duncan gave the full particulars of the several attempts Jackson had made upon the lives of Mr. Travilia and Elsie. Allison never once lifted his face during the recital, but the rest listened with keen interest. " The fellow richly deserves lynching," was the unanimous verdict, " but, as you say, is already suffering a far worse fate. " " And yet no worse than that of thousands of innocent men," remarked Jones bitterly. "Where's the justice of it ? " " Do you expect even-handed justice here ? ,r Inquired another. " Perhaps he may be no worse in the sight of 3M ELBIE'8 WOMANHOOD. God, than some of the rest of us," said Harold, in low, grave tones ; " wo do not know what evil influences may have surrounded him from his very birth, or whether, exposed to the same, we would have turned out any better/' "I'm perishing with thirst," said Jones, "and must try pushing through that crowd about the spring." He wandered off and the group scattered} leaving Harold and Duncan alone together. The two had a long talk : of home, common friends and acquaintance ; of the war, what this or that Federal force wa3 probably now attempt- ing ; what future movements were likely to be made, and how the contest would end ; neither doubting the final triumph of the gov- ernment. "And that triumph can't be very far off either," concluded Harry. "I think the strug- gle will be over before thi3 time next year, and I hope you and I may have a ha>^d in the winding up." " Perhaps you may," Allison rejoined a little sadly ; " but I, I fear, have struck my last blow for my native land," "You are not strong now, but good nursing may do wonders for you," answered Harrv cheerily " Once with.'.* the Union lines, and you will feel like another man." " Ah, but how to get me there ? that's the ELSIE'S WOMANHOOD. 82? rag of war," said Harold, but with a smile and in tones more hopeful than his words, " Dun- can, you are a Christian ? " " Yes, Allison : Jesue Christ is the Captain of my salyation ; in whom I trust, and in whose seryice I desire to live and die." "Then are we brothers indeed?" and with the words their right hands joined in a more cordial grasp than before. The sun was nearing the western horizon when at length Harold was left alone. He bowed his head upon hi3 knees in thought and prayer, remaining thus for many minutes, striving for a spirit of forgiveness and compassion toward the coward wretch who would have slain one dearer to him than life. At last, as the shadows of evening were gath- ering over the place, he lifted a pale, patient face ; and rising, made his way slowly and with diffi- culty toward the spot where Jackson lay pros- trate on the ground, groaning and crying like a child. Sitting down beside the miserable creature, he spoke to him in gentle, soothing tones, " Yon have been here a long time ? " " The longest year that ever I lived ! but it won't last much longer ; " and he uttered a /ear- ful oath. "Are you expecting to be exchanged ?" " Exchanged ! no. What do those fellows at 328 ELSIE'S WOMANHLOD. Wasln igton care about our lives ? They'll delay and delay till we're all starved to death, like hundreds and thousands before us ; " and again he concluded with a volley of oaths and curses, be- stowed indiscriminately upon the President and Congress, Jeff Davis, Wirtz, and the guard. Harold was shocked at his profanity. " Man," said he solemnly, "do you know that you are on the brink of the grave ? and must soon appear at the bar of Him whose holy name you are taking in vain ?" k * Curse you ! " he cried, lifting his head for a moment, then dropping it again on the ground ; " take your cant to some other market, I don't be- lieve in a God, or heaven or hell : and the sooner I die the better ; for I'll be out of my misery.* "No; that is a fatal delusion, and unless you turn and repent, and believe on the Lord Jesus Christ, death can only plunge you into deeper misery, You have only a little while ! Oh, I beseech you, don't cast away your last chance to secure pardon, peace and eternal life ! " " You're * casting your pearls before swine,' " returned the man, sneeringly. "Not to say that I'm a hog exactly, but I've not a bit more of a soul than if I was. Your name's Allison, isn't it?" "It is." " D'ye know anybody named Dinsmore ? 01 Travilla ? " ELSIE'S WOMANHOOD. 329 " Yes ; and I know who you are, Jackson, and of your crimes against them. In the sight of God yon are a murderer." " You tell me to repent. I've repented many a time that I didn't take better aim and blow his brains out ; yes, and hers too. I hoped I had, till I saw the account in the papers. " Harold's teeth and hands were tightly clenched, in an almost superhuman effort to keep himself quiet ; and the man went on without interruption. " He'd nearly made a finish of me, but I was dmart enough to escape them, bloodhounds and all. I got over the border into Texas ; had a pretty good time there for awhile — after I recov- ered from that awful blood-letting ; but when secession began, I slipped oft and came North. You think I'm all bad ; but I had a kind of love for the old flag, and went right into the army. Besides, I thought it might give me a chance to put a bullet through some o' those that had thwarted my plans, and would have had me lynched, if they could." Harold rose and went away, thinking that verily he had been casting his pearls before swine. Jackson had, indeed, thrown away his last chance ; rejected the last oifer of salvation ; for, ere morning, life had fled. Starved to death and gone into eternity without God and without 330 ELSIE'S WOMANHOOD. hope ! his bitterest foe could not have desired for him a more terrible fate. There was no moon that night, and the even- ing was cloudy making a favorable condition oi affairs for the prisoners contemplating an escape. As soon a3 the darkness was dense enough to conceal their movements from the guard, the work of tunnelling began. It was a tedious business, as they had none of the proper tools, and only one or two could work at a time at the digging and cutting away of the stone ; but they relieved each other frequently at that, while those on the outside carried away in their coats or whatever came to hand, the earth and fragments of stone dislodged, and spread them over the marshy ground near the creek. Duncan, returning from one of these trips, spoke in an undertone to Harold Allison, who with a rude file made of a broken knife -blade, was patiently endeavoring to free himself from his shackles. " Jackson is dead. I half stumbled over a corpse in the dark, when a man close by (the same one that told us this afternoon who the fellow was — I recognized the voice) said, ' He's just breathed his last, poor wretch ! died with a curse on his lips.' 'Who is he?' I asked; and he answered ' Tom Jackson was one of his ELSIB'8 WOMANHOOD Mi •'Gone!" said Harold, "and with all his sins upon his head." " Tes ; it's awful ! Here, let me work that for awhile. You're very tired." The proffered assistance was thankfully ac- cepted, and another half-hour of vigorous effort set Harold's lirnhe free. He stretched them out. with a low exclamation of gratitude and relief. At the same instant a whisper came to their ears. " The work's done at last. Jones is out. Parsons close at hi3 heels. Cos hehind him. Will you go next?" " Thanks, no ; I will be the last," said Dun- can ; " and take charge of Allison here, who is too weak to travel far alone." " Then I'm off," returned the voice. " Don't lose a minute in following me." " Now, Allison," whispered Harry, " summon all your strength and courage, old fellow." " Duncan, you are a true and noble friend ! God reward you. Let me be last." "No, in with you, man ! not an instant to spare ; " and with kindly force he half lifted his friend into the well, and guided him to the mouth of the tunnel. Allison crept through it as fast as his feeble strength would permit, Duncan close behind him- They emerged in safety, as the others had lone before them ; at once scattering in different directions. S82 JCLSIE'8 WOMANHOOV. These two moved on together, for several minutes, plunging deeper and deeper into the woods, but presently paused to take breath and consider their bearings. " Oh, the air of liberty is sweet ! " exclaimed Duncan, in low, exultant tones ; " but we musn't delay here." " No ; we are far from safe yet," panted Allison ; " but — ' prayer and provender hinder no man's journey ' ; Duncan, let us spend one moment in silent prayer for success in reaching the Union lines." They did so, kneeling on the ground ; then rose and pressed forward with confidence. G-od, whose servants they were and whose help they had asked, would guide them in the right direction. " What a providence ! " exclaimed Duncan, grasping Harold's arm, as they came out upon an opening in the wood. " See ! " and he pointed upward, "the clouds have broken away a little, and there shines the North Star : we can steei by that" " Thank God ! and, so far, we have been travelling in the right direction." " Amen ! and we must press on with all peed ; for daylight will soon be upon us, and with it, in all probability, our escape will be dis- covered and pursuit begun." No more breath could be spared for talk, and tbey pushed on in silence, now scrambling through EL81B J 8 WOMANHOOD, 33S a thicket of underbrush, tearing their closhes and not seldom lacerating their flesh also ; now leaping oyer a fallen tree, anon climbing a hill, and again fording or swimming a stream. At length Harold, sinking down upon a log, said, "lam utterly exhausted ! Can go no far- ther. Go on, and leave me to follow as I can after a little rest." "STot a step without you, Allison," returned Duncan, determinedly. "Rest a bit, and then try it again with the help of my arm. Courage, old fellow, we must have put at least six or eight miles between us and our late quarters. Ah, ha ! yonder are some blackberry bushes, well laden with ripe fruit Sit or lie still while I gather our breakfast." Hastily snatching a handful of oak leaves, and forming a rude basket by pinning them together with thorns, he quickly made his way to the bushes, a few yards distant, while Harold stretched himself upon the log and closed his weary eyes. He thought he had hardly done so when Duncan touched his arm. " Sorry to wake you, Allison, but time is precious ; and, like the beggars, we must eat and rum" The basket was heaped high with large, de- licious berries, which greatly refreshed our tra^ ellers. 334 ELSIE'S WOMANHOOD. "l\ow, then, are you equal to another effort ? " asked Duncan, as the last one disap- peared, and he thrust the loaves into his pocket, adding, " We musn't leave these to tell-tales to our pursuers. ' " Yes, I dare not linger here," returned Alli- son, rising but totteringly. Duncan threw an arm about him, and again they pressed forward, toiling on for another half- hour ; when Allison again gave out, and sinking upon the ground, begged his friend to leave him and secure his own safety. " Never ! " cried Duncan, " never ! There would be more, many more, to mourn your loss than mine. Who would shed a tear for me but Aunt Wealthy. Dear old soul, it would be hard for her, I know ; bat she'd soon follow me." "Yes, you are her all; but there's a large family of us, and I could easily be spared." Duncan shook his head. " Was your brother who fell at Ball's Bluff easily spared ? But hark ! what was that ? " He bent his ear to the ground. " The distant bay of hounds ! We must push on I " he cried, starting up in haste. " Bloodhounds on our track ? Horrible ! n exclaimed Harold, also starting to his feet, weak- ness and fatigue forgotten for the moment, j the terror inspired by that thought. Duncan again gave him the support of hifl %rm, and for the next half- hour they ^ree^ed on ELSIE'S WOMANHOOD. S35 quite rapidly ; yet their pursuers were gaining on them, for the bay of the hounds, though still distant, could now be distinctly heard, and AHi- sons strength again gave away. "I— can — go no farther, Duncan," he said, pantingly; "let me climb up yon tall oak and conceal myself among the branches, while you hurry on." " No, no, they would discover you directly, ard it would be surrender or die. Ah, see 1 there's a little log cabin behind those bushes, and who knows but we may find help there. Courage, and hope, my boy ; n and almost carrying Harold, Duncan hurried to the door of the hut. Pushing it open, and seeing an old negro in- side, "Cato, Caesar — " "Uncle Scip, sah," grinned the negro. " Well, no matter for the name ; will ycu help us ? We're Federal soldiers just escaped from Andersonyille, and they're after us with bloodhounds. Can you tell us of anything that will put the savage brutes o2 the scent ? " "Sah?" " Something that will stop the hounds from fol- lowing us — quick, quick ! if you know anything, * The n?gro sprang up, reached a bottle from a shelf, and handing it to Harry, said, " Turpen- tine, sah ; rub um on your feet, genlemen, an' de hounds won't follah you no moah. But please, sah.8, go little ways off into the woods fo' you 338 ELSIE'S WOMANHOOD. use uin so de rebs not tink dis chile gib urn to ye." Harry clutched the bottle, throwing down a sen-dollar bill (all the money he had about him) at Uncle Scip's feet, and dragging Harold some hundred yards farther into the depths of the wood, seated him on a log, applied the turpentine plentifully to his feet, and then to his own. All this time the baying of the hounds came nearer and nearer, till it seemed that the next moment would bring them into sight. " Up ! " cried Harry, flinging away the empty bottle, " one more tug for life and liberty, or we are lost I " Harold did not speak, but hope and fear once more inspiring him with temporary strength, he rose and hurried on by the side of his friend. Com- ing presently to a cleared space, they almost flew across it, and gained the shelter of the woods be- 70nd. The cry of the hounds was no longer heard. " They've lost the scent, sure enough," said Duncan, exultingly ; " a little farther and I think we may venture to rest awhile, concealing ourselves in some thicket. Indeed 'twill now be safer to hide by day, and continue our journey by night." They did so, spending that and the next day in hiding, living upon roots and berries, and the next two nights in travelling in the supposed direction of the nearest Union camp, coming upon the pickets abcut sunrise of the third day, ELSIE'S WOMANHOOD, 33? They were of Captain Duncan's own regiment and he was immediately recognized with a delighted, ' < Hurrah ! " " Hurrah for the Union and the old flag 1 n returned Harry, waying a greefa branch aboya his head, in lieu of the military $&p h* had bees fobbed of by his capton. 15 " In peace, love tunes the shepherd's reed ; In trar, he mounts the warrior's steed ; La hall*, in gay attire is seen ; In hamlets, dances on the green ; Love rules the court, the camp, the grora. And men helow and saints above ; For love is heaven, and heaven is love." — Score. "Escaped prisoners from Andersonville* 8h P n queried the guard gathering about them. " Yes ; and more than half -starred ; espe- cially my friend here, Captain Allison of the — " But the sentence was left unfinished ; for at that instant Harold reeled, and would have fallen but for the strong arm of another officer quickly outstretched to save him. They made a litter and carried him into camp, where restoratives were immediately applied. He soon recovered from his f aintness, but wag found to be totally unfit for duty, and sent to the hospital at Washington, where he was placed in a bed adjoining that of his brother Richard, and fallowed to share with him in the attentions of Dr. King, Miss Lottie, and his own sister May. ELSIE'S WOMANHOOD. 339 How they all wept oyer him — reduced almost to a skeleton, so wan, so weak, so aged, in those few short months. He recognized his brother and sister with a faint smile, a murmured word or two, then sank into a state of semi-stupor, from which he roused only when spoken to, relapsing into it again im* mediately. Slowly, very slowly, medical skill and tender, careful nursing told upon his exhausted frame till at length he seemed to awake to new life, began to notice what was going on about him, was able to take part in a cheerful chat now and then, and became eager for news from home and of the progress of the war. Months had passed away. In the meantime Eichard had returned to camp, and Harry Dun- can, wounded in a late battle, now occupied his deserted bed in the hospital. Harry was suffering, but in excellent spirits. " Cheer up, Allison," he said ; " you and I will neyer go back to Andersonyille ; the war can't last much longer, and we may consider the Union saved. Ah ! this is a yast improvement upon Andersonyille fare," he added gayly, as Lot- tie and May appeared before them, each bearing a tray with a delicious little lunch upon it, " Miss Lottie, I'm almost tempted to say it pays to be ill or wounded, that one may b# tended b^ fail ladies' hands," 340 ELSIE'8 WOMANHOOD. Ah, that speech should have come from Mr Allison, for May is fair and her hands are white, while mine are brown," she answered demurely, as she set her tray within his reach, May doing the same for Harold. "JSTone less the beautiful, Miss King," re- turned Duncan gallantly. " Many a whiter hand is not half so shapely or so useful. Now reward me for that pretty compliment by coaxing your father to get me well as fast as possible, that I may have a share in the taking of Eichmond." "That would be a waste of breath, as he's doing all he can already; but I'll do my part with coddling, write all your letters for you — business, friendship, love — and do anything else desired ; if in my power." " You're very good," he said, with a furtive glance at May, who seemed to see or hear noth- ing but her brother, who was asking about the last news from home ; "very good indeed, Misa King ; especially as regards the love letters. I presume it would not be necessary for me even to be at the trouble of dictating them ? " " Oh, no. certainly not ! " "Joking aside, I shall be greatly obliged if you will write to Aunt Wealthy to-day for me." " With pleasure ; especially as I can tell her your wound is not a dangerous one, and you will not lose a limb. But do tell me. What did jqv poor fellows get to eat at Anderson ville ? * ELSIE'S WOMANHOOD. * Well, one week's daily ration consisted of one pint of corn meal ground up cob and all togeth- er, fonr onnces of mule meat, generally spoiled and emitting anything but an appetizing odor ; but then we were not troubled with want of — the best of sauce for our meals." " Hunger ? " "Yes ; we'd plenty of that always. In addi- tion to the corn meal and meat, we had a nail pint of peas full of bugs." "Oh ! you poor creatures ! I hope it was a little better the alternate week." "Just the same, except, in lieu of the com meal, we had three square inches of corn bread,* "Is it jest; or earnest?" asked Lottie, appealing to Harold. " Head earnest, Miss King ; and for medicins we had sumac and white-oak bark." " ISTo matter what ailed you ? " " Oh, yes ; that made no difference. " To Harry's impatience the winter wore slowly away while he was confined within the hospital walls ; yet the daily, almost hourly sight of May Allison's sweet face, and the sound of her musi- cal voice, went far to reconcile him to this life of inactivity and "inglorious ease," as he termed it in hi3 moments of restless longing to be again in the field. By the last of March this ardent desire was granted, and he hurried away in fine spirits, le&v- 342 ELSIE 8 WOMANHOOD. mg May pale and tearful, but with a ring on le< linger that had not been there before. '^Ah," said Lottie, pointing to it with a merry twinkle in her eye, and passing her arm about May's waist as she spoke, " I shall be yery generous, and not tease as you did when some- body else treated me exactly so." " It is good of you," whispered May, laying her wet cheek on her friend's shoulder ; " and I'm eyer so glad you're to be my sister." " And won't Aunt Wealthy rejoice oyer you as oyer a mine of gold ! " Poor Harold, sitting pale and weak upon the side of his cot, longing to be with his friend, sharing his labors and perils, yet feeling that the springs of life were broken within him, was lift- ing up a silent prayer for strength to endure to the end. A familiar step drew near, and Dr. King laid his hand on the young man's shoulder. " Cheer up, my dear boy," he said, " we are trying to get you leaye to go home for thirty days, and the war will be oyer before the time expires; so that you will not haye to come back." " Home ! " and Harold's eye brightened for a moment ; " yes, I should like to die at home, with mother and father, brothers and sisteri about me," " But yon are not going to die just jet," re* SLBIE'S WOMANHOOD. 343 toned the doctor, with assumed gayety • tr and home and mother will do wonders for yon." "Dr. King," and the blue eyes looked up o&lmly and steadily into the physician's face, " please tell me exactly what you think of my case. Is there any hope of recovery ? " " You may improve very much : I think you will when you get home ; and, though there is little hope of the entire recovery of your former health and strength, you may live for years." "But it is likely I shall not live another year ? do not he afraid to say so : I should rather welcome the news. Am I not right ? " " Yes ; I — I think you are nearing home, my dear boy ; the land where f the inhabitant shall not say, I am sick.' " There was genuine feeling in the doctors tone. A moment's silence, and Harold said, " Thank you. It is what I have suspected for some time ; and it causes me no regret, save for the sake of those who love me and will grieve over my early death." " But don't forget that there is still a possi- bility of recuperation ; while there's life there's nope." " True ! and I will let them hope on as long as they can." The doctor passed on to another patient, and Harold was again left to the companionship of 344 ELSIE'S WOMANHOOD. his own thoughts. But not for long ; they were presently broken in upon by the appearance of May with a very bright face. " See ! " she cried joyously, holding up a package ; " letters from home, and Naples too. lloso writes to mamma, and she has enclosed the letter for our benefit" " Then let us enjoy it together. Sit here and read it to me ; will you ? My eyes are rather weak, you know, and I see the ink is pale."