Elsie and Her Namesakes

"Her sex was a disappointment to Scottish hearts, yet still they loved her, and would do all in their power to protect and defend her, especially from the English King, Henry VIII., with whom they were then at war, and who was doing all in his power to get possession of the little princess, purposing in time to marry her to his son, and so unite the two kingdoms under one crown."

"Why, that would have been a fine way to put a stop to the fighting between the two kingdoms, I should think," said Elsie Dinsmore.

"Perhaps, if he had offered good terms, but those he did offer were so harsh that Scotland's Parliament rejected them, and for greater security both Mary and her mother were taken from Linlithgow to Stirling Castle, a grand fortress atop of a lofty hill above the beautiful valley of Monteith. It seemed a safe place for the bonny baby queen, but some wicked, treacherous men formed a plot to carry her off to England; but it failed because her guardians were so very cautious as never to admit more than one person at a time to see her.

"So many dangers threatening her, it was thought best to crown her queen as soon as possible, and when she was nine months old she was one Sunday morning taken from her nursery to the chapel of the castle. There one of her nobles held her on the throne and spoke for her the words she should have spoken had she been old enough. Then the Cardinal held the crown over her head, and for a moment clasped her tiny fingers about the scepter, and buckled the sword of state around her waist. Then every peer and prelate present, one after another, knelt before her, held his right hand above her baby head, and swore to defend her with his life. But alas, alas! few o' them proved faithful to their oath.

"A strange life lay before that little babe. She was perhaps six years of age when taken to France as a safer place for her than Scotland. She was married early in life to the young King Francis II., but in seventeen months his death made her a widow. She left France for her own land, and arrived at Leith in August, 1561, doubtless little dreaming the sad fate in store for her in the British Isles," sighed the kind-hearted old gentleman, then for a moment he seemed lost in thought.

"Can you tell us in what town and castle she made her home?" asked Elsie Dinsmore.

"Holyrood Castle in Edinburgh," replied Mr. Lilburn. "It was in the chapel of that castle she was married to her cousin, Henry Stuart, Lord Darnley, in July, 1565. She was then about twenty-three years of age."

"Did she love him, Cousin Ronald?" asked Elsie Raymond.

"No doubt of it, lassie, for she had plenty of other offers; it really seemed as though every royal bachelor and widower wanted her for a wife. And small wonder, for she was very sweet and beautiful.

"She called Darnley the handsomest man she had ever seen; doubtless it was his good looks she fell in love with, but a few weeks of wifehood with him showed her that his character was far less admirable than his looks; he was vain, selfish, ungrateful, took all her favors as a matter of course and asked for more. Soon after their marriage the English ambassador wrote of them, 'The Queen doth everything in her power to oblige Darnley, but Darnley does not do the least thing to oblige her.' She had a few weeks of happiness during their wedding journey through the interior of Scotland, but soon after that Darnley began treating her with brutal unkindness. At a public banquet, only four months after their marriage, he began to drink to excess, urging his guests to do the same. Queen Mary tried quietly to check him, but he turned upon her with such vulgar violence that she left the room in tears. And he was so insolent to the Court in general that he was soon almost universally detested."

"And I should hardly think it was possible for poor Queen Mary to go on loving him," said Elsie Dinsmore.

"Nor should I," said Mr. Lilburn; "for certainly he was very different from what she had believed him to be when she married him. And, poor lady, she greatly needed the right sort of husband to protect and help her, for the nobles who surrounded her were treacherous, unprincipled men, ready to commit any crime that would enable them to govern Scotland to suit themselves, by making the sovereign a mere cipher in their hands. I presume you all know something of the brutal murder of Rizzio?"

"Yes, sir, I believe we do; but please tell us the whole story about it," said Elsie Raymond.

"He was a singer in the chapel of Holyrood Castle, had a voice of wonderful power and sweetness, which so pleased the Queen that she made him leader of the singing in her chapel services. He was a homely man, but a clever linguist, faithful and prudent, and Queen Mary made him her private secretary. The treacherous lords wanted to get rid of him because he was not one of them, yet had so great influence with the Queen; they determined to murder him, and that on the pretence that the Queen was so fond of him as to make Darnley jealous. It was all a pretence, just to trump up a reason for murdering Rizzio.

"One evening in March, 1566, Queen Mary was in her library at supper, with three friends as her guests – a lady, a gentleman and Rizzio. She did not know that her Lord Chancellor Morton had, just after dusk, led a body of armed men into the courtyard of this, her Holyrood Castle. Some of these men had hidden themselves in Darnley's room, just underneath these apartments of hers, and a winding staircase led up from them. Suddenly Darnley, who had come up this private stairway, entered the room, sat down in a vacant chair beside her, put his arm around her waist and gave her an affectionate kiss.

"It was a Judas kiss, for at the same time the murderers whom he was assisting had stolen softly into the Queen's bedroom, and now they crowded through the doorway into her presence. She was alarmed, and at once demanded the reason for their intrusion.

"They said they meant no harm to her, only to the villain near her.

"Rizzio understood, and said to her, 'Madam, I am lost!' 'Fear not,' she answered, 'the King will never suffer you to be slain in my presence, nor can he forget your many faithful services.'

"The words seemed to touch Darnley's heart and make him unwilling to perform his part in the wicked work, and Ruthven exclaimed fiercely, 'Sir, look to your wife and sovereign.'

"At that Darnley forced Mary into a chair and held her there so tightly that she could not rise, while one of the ruffians presented a pistol to her side and swore a horrible oath that he would shoot her dead if she resisted.

"'Fire,' she replied, 'if you have no respect for my life,' and her husband pushed away the weapon.

"But now others of the murderous crowd were in the room, lighting it up with the glare of torches, and Rizzio, clinging to the Queen's dress, begged piteously, 'Save my life, madam! Save my life for God's dear sake!'

"But she could not. The assassins rushed upon him, overturning the table with its lights and dishes. Queen Mary fainted, and Rizzio was dragged out into a narrow passageway and stabbed again and again until his shrieks were hushed in death. There is still a stain upon Holyrood's floor said to have been caused by his blood."

"And what about Queen Mary? Did they hurt her, Cousin Ronald?" asked Ned, much interested in the story.

"When she came out of her faint, poor lady! those lawless nobles, wicked murderers, told her she was their prisoner, then set a guard at her door, and left her to spend the night in anxiety, horror and fear."

"Oh, how wicked and cruel they were!" exclaimed Elsie Raymond. "I hope they got punished for it somehow!"

"It looks as though Darnley did," said Mr. Lilburn, "for in a little less than a year after the murder of Rizzio he, having gone with a few friends to a private house, was in the night blown up with gunpowder; and only about two months afterward Queen Mary married the Earl of Bothwell. That disgusted her best subjects, so that they made her a prisoner and forced her to abdicate in favor of her son, James VI.

"Queen Mary escaped from her prison, collected a large army, and fought for the recovery of her crown and throne, but was defeated, then fled to England. But Queen Elizabeth, though her cousin, was very jealous of her, kept her imprisoned for many years, then had her beheaded."

"Had she any right to do that?" asked Elsie Dinsmore in indignant tones.

"No," replied Mr. Lilburn; "none but the might that is said to make right. Queen Mary was in her power, with none to defend her. Queen Mary, when on trial, said to her judges, 'I am a Queen, subject to none but God. Him do I call to witness that I am innocent of all the charges brought against me. And recollect, my lords, the theatre of the world is wider than the realm of England.'"

"And did they kill her, Cousin Ronald?" asked Ned.

"Yes; they beheaded her in Fotheringay Castle. It is said that every one was impressed by the melancholy sweetness of her face and the remains of her rare beauty as she drew near the spot where her life was to be ended. Her executioners knelt down and asked her forgiveness for what they were about to do, and she replied, 'I forgive you and all the world with all my heart.' Then turning to the women who attended her, she said, 'Pray do not weep. Believe me, I am happy to leave the world. Tell my son that I thought of him in my last moments, and that I sincerely hope his life may be happier than mine.'

"Then there was a dreadful silence as she knelt down and laid her head upon the block. In another minute the chief executioner held it up in his hand, saying, 'So perish all the enemies of Queen Elizabeth.'"

"What a shame!" cried Ned. "I hope the time came when Queen Elizabeth had to have her head chopped off."

"No," replied Mr. Lilburn; "but hers was not a happy death. She seems to have been almost crazed with grief and remorse over the death of Essex, threw herself on the floor, and lay there, refusing food and medicine for several days and nights, till death came to end the sorrowful scene."

"Then, perhaps, she suffered more than Queen Mary did in her dying time, as I certainly think she deserved to," said Elsie Dinsmore.

"Yes, I think she did," responded Mr. Lilburn; "it seems very possible that her cruel, unjust treatment of her cousin, Queen Mary, may have helped to burden her conscience and increase her remorse till she felt that life was a burden too heavy to bear."

"Do you think she really wanted to die, and was courting death, Cousin Ronald?" asked Grandma Elsie.

"Her refusal of food and medicine looks like it," he replied; "yet one can hardly suppose that death would be anything but a terror to one whose character was so far from Christian. Her public conduct was worthy of the highest encomium, but not so with her private life. Yet I wadna wish to sit in judgment on her at this late day."

CHAPTER XIII

The next day was the Sabbath, the weather clear and mild enough for all, passengers and crew, to gather upon the deck for a short service of prayer, singing of hymns and a sermon read by the captain. After that there was an hour of Bible study in the saloon, Mr. Lilburn leading by request of the others.

Turning over the leaves of his Bible, "Suppose we take for our subject the Confessing of Christ before Men," he said. "Here in Romans we read, 'The word is nigh thee, even in thy mouth, and in thy heart; that is, the word of faith which we preach; that if thou shalt confess with thy mouth the Lord Jesus, and shalt believe in thine heart that God hath raised Him from the dead, thou shalt be saved. For with the heart man believeth unto righteousness; and with the mouth confession is made unto salvation. For the Scripture saith, Whosoever believeth on Him shall not be ashamed.'

"What a burning desire Paul had for the salvation of souls. He said, 'Brethren, my heart's desire and prayer to God for Israel is that they might be saved.' And if we are Christians we will be often in prayer and often making effort for the salvation of souls. Let us ask ourselves if it is indeed so with us. And let us strive to make it so, earnestly doing all in our power to win souls to Christ, telling them of the great love wherewith He has loved us, bleeding and dying that we might live; and that all we have to do is simply to come, to believe, to take this offered salvation. 'Whosoever shall call upon the name of the Lord shall be saved.' We have only to call upon His name with real desire for His help, and in an instant He is with us, offering us full and free salvation, purchased for us by His suffering and death, so that we may have it without money and without price. Now, friends, please read in turn texts bearing upon this great subject."

Then Grandma Elsie read, "'For God so loved the world, that He gave His only begotten Son that whosoever believeth in Him should not perish, but have everlasting life. For God sent not His Son into the world to condemn the world, but that the world, through Him, might be saved.'"

Then Grace, "'Christ is the end of the law for righteousness to every one that believeth.'"

Then the captain, "'Knowing that a man is not justified by the works of the law, but by the faith of Jesus Christ, even we have believed in Jesus Christ, that we might be justified by the faith of Christ, and not by the works of the law; for by the law shall no flesh be justified.'"

Then Violet, "'By grace ye are saved through faith; and that not of yourselves; it is the gift of God, not of works, lest any man should boast.'"

Harold was the next, "'God hath not appointed us to wrath, but to obtain salvation by our Lord Jesus Christ,'" he read, and that closed the lesson, the younger ones seeming to have nothing ready; then presently came the summons to the dinner table.

"Aren't we getting pretty near to Louisiana, papa?" asked Ned at the breakfast table the next morning.

"Near enough for a distant view of its shore," was the smiling reply.

"Oh, I'm glad! Are we going to stop at New Orleans, papa?"

"No; we will not go up to that city this time, but travel directly to Viamede by the shortest route."

"Oh, I am glad of that, for I just long for a sight of our beautiful Viamede; and I think I shall get well there right fast," laughed Ned.

"Maybe so, if you are careful to obey your doctor," said Harold, smiling kindly upon the little fellow.

"It will be ever so nice to get there," exclaimed Elsie Raymond. "Grandma, you were so kind to invite us all."

"Not kinder to you than to myself, since to have you all there makes the place twice as enjoyable and attractive to me," was the pleasant-toned reply.

"Will the friends and relatives about there be expecting us, mother?" asked Grace.

"I think they will, as they were written to that we expected to arrive just about the time we are now likely to reach there."

"I think we shall," said the captain; and they did, to find the expectant relatives gathered at the wharf ready to give them a joyful greeting; for dearly they all loved Viamede's sweet mistress, and they also cherished a warm affection for those who accompanied her, especially her son Harold and his bride. The congratulations to them were warm, especially those of Dr. Percival, who felt that he owed his life to God's blessing upon Harold's wise and kind treatment during the severe illness caused by that sad fall from his horse many months ago.

And now he and his Maud had a treasure which they were very proud to show to Grandma Elsie and all the others – a lovely baby girl, another Elsie. And Dr. and Mrs. Johnson had still another to show, exhibiting it with much parental pride, speaking of it as still another namesake for their dearly loved cousin, Mrs. Elsie Travilla.

She was much moved. "I am greatly honored," she said; "so many naming their darlings for me. I have brought two with me – Elsie Dinsmore and Elsie Raymond; there is one – Elsie Keith – at the Parsonage; one at Magnolia Hall – Elsie Embury; and now these two dear babies, making six here in all. Yes, and in my more Northern home neighborhood there is my eldest daughter, named for me by her father, and there are several others, the children of friends who have honored me in the same way. I certainly am greatly honored. But, dear Dick and Rob, will it not make confusion to have two of the same name at Torriswood?"

"Oh, I think not, cousin," laughed Dick; "ours can be Elsie P. and Rob's Elsie J."

"And, oh, Cousin Elsie, if only they get your sweet disposition along with the name," exclaimed Maud, "they will have reason to thank us for giving it to them."

"As I certainly do my father and mother," said little Elsie Keith, standing near and listening with interest to the talk about the name she bore. "They have often told me I must try to be like the dear lady relation whose name I bear."

"Dear child, may you succeed in greatly improving upon your pattern," Mrs. Travilla responded, smiling upon the little girl, gently smoothing her hair and giving her a kiss.

But now came the summons to the dinner table. By the written orders of Viamede's mistress, sent weeks before, a fine, abundant, luxurious meal had been made ready for the occasion, and soon all were seated about the hospitable board regaling themselves upon all the luxuries to be had in that part of the country at that time of the year.

They ate with appetites, at the same time enjoying "the feast of reason and the flow of soul."

The children had a table to themselves, that they might chatter to their hearts' content without disturbing the older folk, and they fully appreciated the privilege.

"Oh, Elsie Raymond!" exclaimed Mildred Keith, the eldest of the children from the Parsonage, "I haven't seen your tee-tee. Didn't you bring it along?"

"No," replied Elsie; "Ned's couldn't be brought because he was not well enough to care for it on the Dolphin, and wouldn't have felt willing to leave it to other folks to be troubled with; so it had to be left at home, and as we didn't want to part them, I left mine too."

"Oh, that was good and kind in you," was Mildred's answering remark.

"So we won't have the tee-tees to make fun for us with Cousin Ronald's help," said another of the cousins. "But I know he can make fun even without the little monkeys."

"And he's always so very kind about making fun for us," said another. "He's a dear old gentleman! I'm as fond of him as if he was a near relation."

"And you had a wedding at your house just a little while ago," said another. "I like both Cousin Harold and Cousin Grace, and it seems nice that they are married to each other."

"But does Cousin Violet like it? I heard the folks say it would make her mother to her brother."

"Yes; but, besides, it makes mamma and Sister Grace sisters; so Gracie can say mamma or sister, just as she pleases; but I don't believe it will make a bit of difference in their love for each other."

"No; I don't believe it will, or make her, your mother, and Dr. Harold feel at all differently toward each other. I dare say they will all feel and act toward each other about as they did before the wedding."

"I'm sorry your sisters Lu and Eva didn't come this time and bring that little Mary. Why didn't they and Chester come?"

"Chester couldn't well leave his business, Sister Lu didn't want to leave him, and Eva thought home was better for Baby Mary," Elsie Raymond said in reply. "It seemed hard to leave them behind, but papa said it couldn't be helped. Oh, I wish you could all see Baby Mary! She is such a dear, pretty little thing."

But all the talk was not going on at the children's table; the grown folks were doing their full share, and that with evident enjoyment.

"We understood, Cousin Elsie," said Dr. Percival, "that the cousins from the Oaks and Fairview were to be here."

"Yes, and I think they will be in a few days, coming by rail. They were not quite ready to start when we were, nor would the yacht have held us all. And we may hope for another carousal when they do get here," she added with a merry look and musical laugh.

"Ah, that's a pleasant prospect, if we are to be invited to take part in it," laughed the doctor.

"Ah, Dick, you surely know that is of course," she returned with a look that said more than her words. "A family party here without you in it would hardly be worthy of that name to me."

"Ah, cousin, you are indeed kind to say and to feel so, for I don't seem to myself to deserve to be so estimated by you. I am really worth but little except as a physician; and Harold here can outdo me in that line," he added, giving Harold a warmly affectionate look and smile.

"I must beg leave to differ as to that, Cousin Dick," returned Harold brightly. "I know of no physician to whom I would sooner trust the life of any ailing dear one than to yourself."

"Thanks; that is certainly a very strong endorsement you give me," laughed Dick, coloring with pleasure.

"And I can give you the same," said his half brother and partner, Dr. Johnson. "We seem to be a family of remarkably good physicians, if we do say it ourselves," he added with a hearty laugh.

"I don't think you need; you may safely trust to other folks doing it," remarked Captain Raymond pleasantly.

"But don't expect any of us to get sick in order to give you fellows a chance to show your skill," observed Mr. Dinsmore gravely.

"Oh, no, uncle; we can find plenty of patients among the constant dwellers in this region; so you may feel quite safe from our experimenting upon you – unless you get up an accident that will call for our aid," said Dick.

"I assure you I have no idea of doing that, even to help my nephews and grandson to plenty of employment to keep them out of mischief," laughed Mr. Dinsmore.

"And you needn't, grandpa, so far as I am concerned," said Harold, with a humorous look and smile. "This is Grace's and my honeymoon, you know, and we are entitled to a full holiday."

"So you are, and I shall do nothing to interfere with it," returned Mr. Dinsmore with assumed gravity, but a twinkle of fun in his eye.

"Are Chester and Lu coming with the other party, uncle?" asked Maud.

"No; I understand that Chester has too much business calling for his attention, and that Lu, like the good, affectionate wife that she is, could not be persuaded to leave him; and Eva remains at home for their sake and that of her baby."

And so the talk went on till all the courses of the grand dinner had been served and heartily partaken of.

Then all, old and young, gathered in the drawing-room and spent a pleasant hour in friendly chat. After that cordial good-nights were exchanged, accompanied with plans and promises in regard to future intentions, and one after another the relatives and guests departed for their own homes.

Little, feeble Ned had already been taken to his nest for the night, but the other children were now permitted a brief sojourn upon the front veranda, made delightful by the sweet scent of the orange blossoms upon the trees and the many lovely flowers adorning the moonlighted lawn, that light giving them also a charming view of the more distant landscape.

CHAPTER XIV

It was a bright, cheerful party that gathered about the Viamede breakfast table the next morning.

"Southern air seems to agree finely with my young patient thus far," remarked Dr. Harold, looking smilingly at Ned, who was partaking of the good fare provided with an appetite such as he had not shown before since the beginning of his illness.

"Yes, uncle doctor, I'm hungry this morning, and everything tastes good," laughed Ned. "But Viamede victuals always were ever so nice."

"And home victuals poor and tasteless?" queried the lad's mother, feigning a look of grieved surprise.

"Oh, no, mamma; home victuals are good – very good – when one is well, so as to have a good appetite," returned Ned reassuringly.

"Very true, son," said his father; "and you used to show full appreciation of them. So mamma need not feel hurt that you so greatly enjoy your present fare."

"And p'raps his good appetite will make the little chap strong enough for a row on the bayou a bit arter gittin' done his breakfast," said a rough voice, seemingly coming from an open doorway into the outer hall.

"Now, who are you talking that way about me?" queried Ned, turning half way round in his chair in an effort to catch sight of the speaker.