Elsie at Viamede

Our party were much interested and excited, most of them full of concern for the drowning one, who seemed to have strangely disappeared, for not a trace of him could be seen as the boat was rowed hither and thither; and at length, resigning all hope of finding even the lifeless body, the men returned to the larger vessel to report their failure.

The ladies were in tears, and as the captain drew near, Zoe asked in tones tremulous with emotion, "Is there no hope at all of saving the poor fellow, captain?"

"I'm afraid he's gone to the bottom, ma'am, though it's odd he couldn't keep up for the few minutes it took to launch the boat; but I suppose the wheel must have struck him. By the way," he added, as if struck by a sudden thought, "I don't know yet who it was. I must have the crew mustered on deck and see who is missing."

He proceeded to do so at once, when to the surprise of all it was discovered that no one was missing.

"A stowaway, evidently!" growled the captain, "and he's got his desserts; though I wouldn't have let him drown if I could have helped it."

At that instant a light broke upon Edward Travilla and Dr. Conley, and both turned hastily toward their guest, Mr. Ronald Lilburn.

He was sitting near, quietly listening to the talk, his features expressing grave concern, yet they could perceive a sparkle of fun in his eye.

Edward stepped to his side, and, bending down over him, spoke in an undertone close to his ear. "I think you could tell us something of the man, Cousin Ronald."

"I, laddie? What would I ken o' the folk i' this part o' the world?" queried the old gentleman, raising his eyebrows in mock surprise.

"Ah, sir, who is to say he belonged to this part of the world?" laughed Edward. "I must own that I strongly suspect he was a countryman of yours; a Scotchman, at least."

Then going to the side of his wife he said a word or two in an undertone that chased away her tears, while she sent a laughing glance in Cousin Ronald's direction.

But they were drawing near their journey's end, and presently everything else seemed to be forgotten in gazing upon the ever changing beauties of the landscape as they threaded their way through lake and lakelet, past swamp, forest, plain, and plantation. They gazed with delight upon the cool, shady dells carpeted with a rich growth of flowers, miles upon miles of smoothly shaven lawns, velvety green and shaded by magnificent oaks and magnolias, lordly villas peering through groves of orange trees, tall white sugarhouses, and the long rows of cabins of the laborers, forming all together a panorama of surpassing loveliness.

"Oh, it is an earthly paradise, is it not, Ned?" cried Zoe, clasping her hands in an ecstacy of delight.

"Very, very beautiful," he responded, his eyes shining with pleasure. "But you know this is not, like yours, my first sight of it; I spent a very happy winter here in the days when my dear and honored father was with us."

"And I," said his sister Elsie, softly sighing at the thought that that loved parent had left them to return no more. "It will not seem the same without him; yet with so many dear ones left – especially our dear, dear mother – our visit can hardly be otherwise than most enjoyable. Ah, Ned, is not that our own orange orchard just coming into view?"

"It is, my dear sister; we will be there in a very few minutes now."

"At home and with mamma!" she exclaimed in joyous tones; then called to her little sons, "Come here, Ned and Eric. We are almost at dear grandmamma's house, and she will soon have you in her arms."

At that the little fellows came running to her with a joyous shout, for they dearly loved their Grandma Elsie, and to their infant minds the time of separation from her had seemed very long.

To their Aunt Adelaide, the Conleys – Arthur excepted – and the young Dinsmores the scenes were equally new, and called forth from one and all demonstrations of admiration and delight. Very soon the boat reached and rounded to at the landing, where were gathered all the members of the Viamede, Magnolia Hall, and parsonage families to meet and welcome these dear ones from their own old homes farther to the north.

It was an altogether joyous meeting, Cousin Ronald and Virginia, as well as the rest, receiving most kind and cordial greeting, though the latter was an entirely unexpected guest.

Isadore took her sister in her arms, kissed and wept over her as a near and dear one who had gone through great trials during the years of their separation.

"What a long, long while it is since we parted, and what sore trials you have gone through in the meantime, Virgie!" she sighed. "Ah, I hope the future may have better things in store for you."

"I should say it ought indeed, considering all I've had to suffer in the past," returned Virginia. "I've come to beg a home with you, Isa, as you might have had to of me if I had been the lucky one in the matter of drawing a prize in the matrimonial lottery."

"I will try to do the very best I can for you, Virgie," was Isadore's pleasant toned reply, though it was not with unmingled satisfaction that she saw opening before her the prospect of receiving this selfish, indolent sister into her peaceful, well regulated household as a permanent addition to it.

Zoe was in ecstasies over the beauties of Viamede – the large, palatial mansion, the beautiful grounds, the lovely scenery.

"Oh, mamma," she exclaimed, pausing on the veranda to take a general survey, "it is just too lovely for anything! It really exceeds my expectations, though they were raised very high by all I have heard of the beauties of Viamede. I wonder you can ever resign yourself to leaving it for a longer time than the hot season, when it is not so healthy as your more northern home."

"Yes, I sometimes wonder at myself," Elsie said with a smile; "and yet both Ion and the Oaks are very dear to me – so many happy years of my life have been passed in them. Ah, no, I could not give up those dear homes entirely any more than I could this."

"Ah, you are a most fortunate woman, cousin mine," remarked Mr. Lilburn, standing by, "and worthy of it all; no one more so."

"Ah, Cousin Ronald, you, like all the rest of my friends, are only too ready to pass my imperfections by and see only virtues; some of them altogether imaginary, I fear," she returned with a smile. "I cannot tell you how glad I am to see you here again, and I hope you may so greatly enjoy your sojourn among us that you will be pleased to repeat your visit whenever opportunity offers."

"Ah, many thanks, cousin, but have a care lest you should be in danger of seeing me here oftener than will be found agreeable," was his laughing reply.

At that Elsie only shook her head with a playful smile, then turned to baby Lilly, who was reaching out her little arms to grandma, crying, "Take! take, gamma!"

"No, no, mother dear," Edward said, coming up to them and taking his little daughter from the nurse's arms, "I can't have you wearying yourself with her." Then to the child, "Papa is going to carry you upstairs, little pet. Dear grandma has been sick and is not strong enough to carry you about. The friends and relatives will all be here for some time, mother?" turning to her again.

"Yes," she replied; "they will all stay to tea."

"And Zoe and I will join you and them again in a few minutes," he said, moving on through the hall, in the direction of the stairway.

All scattered to their rooms then, but reassembled on the veranda some few minutes before the call to the tea-table. It was a large, merry, informal tea-party, Grandma Elsie having been most hospitably urgent that everyone should stay, partake with her and the others who had been making Viamede their home for months past, and spend the evening.

The approaching wedding and matters connected with it were naturally the principal themes of discourse, and Betty was good-humoredly rallied on the conquest she had made and the pleasant prospect of having a home of her own with at least one loyal subject. Zoe insisted on a description of the trousseau, especially the wedding dress.

"Drive over to Magnolia Hall day after to-morrow and you shall see everything for yourself, Zoe," Betty said, laughing and blushing; "at least all but the gifts which have not yet come in."

"Thank you; I think I'll accept that invitation," returned Zoe. "But I suppose there is something to be seen here?"

"Yes; the dresses of the bridesmaids and maids of honor," said Rosie; "and we who are to wear them think them quite beautiful. Don't we, girls?" turning toward Evelyn and Lulu, who answered with an emphatic, "Yes, indeed!"

"Suppose you come and take a look at them, Zoe," proposed Rosie, as they left the table, and Zoe promptly accepted the invitation, Betty, Elsie Leland, Ella, and Virginia, and the Dinsmore cousins going along.

"Oh, they are lovely!" was the united exclamation at sight of the dresses, Zoe adding, "I can't say which is handsomest."

"That's just how it is with me," laughed Betty; "but I own to thinking the bride's dress a trifle handsomer than any of these."

"Ah, yes; but just think how we may outshine you when our turns come to wear a wedding dress," said Rosie. "I mean to have one that shall be a marvel of beauty and taste. Don't you, Eva and Lu?"

"I very much doubt whether I shall ever have any," replied Evelyn, with her grave, sweet smile.

"If you don't it will be your own fault, I am sure," said Rosie. "And it will be just the same with Lu."

"I'm not going to get married ever!" cried Lulu emphatically. "I wouldn't leave my father for all the rest of the men in all the world."

"Ah, your father is glad to hear it," said a voice close at her side, while a hand was laid affectionately on her shoulder. "But my dear eldest daughter is still quite too young to be even thinking of such things."

"Then I won't think of them if I can help it, papa dear," she said, lifting loving, smiling eyes to his face, "for indeed I do want to obey even your slightest wish."

"I don't doubt it, daughter," he returned, pressing affectionately the hand she had slipped into his.

"Now, Elsie," said Zoe, addressing Mrs. Leland, "let us show our wedding finery. You, Ella Conley, I suppose won't care to open your trunks, as they are to be carried over to the Parsonage."

"They have already gone," said Isadore, she also having joined the party of inspection, "but the finery can be shown there just as well."

"Yes, it can wait," returned Ella, "and will perhaps be all the more appreciated for not being seen along with so many other beauties."

"I am the only one who has no finery to exhibit," remarked Virginia in an ill used tone. But they were already on the way to Mrs. Leland's room and no one seemed to hear or heed the complaint, everybody being too much engrossed with the business in hand to take notice of her ill-humor.

But it was Saturday evening and the Parsonage and Magnolia Hall people returned to their homes at an early hour, taking their guests with them.

"Now, daughter," Captain Raymond said, turning to Lulu as the last carriage disappeared from sight, "go at once to your own room and prepare for bed."

"Yes, sir; and must I say good-night now to you?" she asked in a low tone, close at his ear.

"No," he returned, with a smile, "I will be with you presently for a few minutes."

She looked her thanks, and hastened to obey.

"I am quite ready for bed, papa," she said when he came into her room. "Please mayn't I sit on your knee for five or ten minutes?"

"That is just what I want you to do," he said, taking possession of an easy chair and drawing her to the coveted place. "I must have a little talk with my dear eldest daughter," he continued, smoothing her hair and cheek caressingly.

"What about, papa dear?" she asked, nestling closer in his arms. "I haven't been misbehaving, have I? You are not displeased with me, are you?"

"No, dear child; only afraid that you may be caring too much about dress and finery, and that perhaps I am not altogether blameless in regard to that – that I may not have guarded my dear little girl against it as I should."

"I am afraid that perhaps I do care too much about it, papa dear," she sighed, hanging her head, while blushes dyed her cheek; "but I'm sure it is all my own fault, not yours at all; so please don't feel badly about it."

He took up her Bible, opened it, and read, "Whose adorning, let it not be that outward adorning of plaiting the hair, and of wearing of gold, or of putting on of apparel; but let it be the hidden man of the heart, in that which is not corruptible, even the ornament of a meek and quiet spirit, which is in the sight of God of great price. For after this manner in the old time the holy women also, who trusted in God, adorned themselves."

"Papa, is it wrong to wear nice, pretty clothes, and to enjoy having them?" she asked, as he closed the book and laid it aside. "Is that what is meant in those verses?"

"I think not," he said; "if I understood it in that way I should feel it wrong to allow a daughter of mine to wear them. I think it means that you are not to care too much about such adornment, but more, much more, for that other and greater adornment, even the hidden man of the heart, the ornament of a meek and quiet spirit, remembering that in the sight of God it is of great price, worth infinitely more than any ornament of gold, the richest jewels, or the finest attire. Cultivate that with all diligence, my own darling child, if you desire to please and honor your heavenly Father and make yourself even dearer than you now are to your earthly one, and lovelier in his eyes."

"Oh, I do, papa! I do want to please and honor God, and you too; I want to be just a joy and blessing and comfort to you, my own dear, dear father! I don't think you have any idea how very, very dearly I love you, papa," putting her arms about his neck and kissing him over and over again. "Gracie and I think – indeed we feel quite sure – that no other children ever had such a dear, good, kind father as ours. And I know Max thinks the same."

"Well, daughter, I delight in having you and all my children think so, however mistaken you maybe," he said, with a pleased smile, holding her close and returning her caresses; "and it certainly is the earnest desire of my heart to be the best, kindest, and dearest of fathers to the darling children God has given me."

"As I am sure you are, dear papa," she said. "I never have any doubt of it at all, even when you punish me. And, papa," she added, with an effort, "if you think finery bad for me, I am willing to be dressed just as plainly as you think best."

"That is my own dear little girl," he returned, with a gratified look; "but I have not been dressing you better – more richly, gayly, or tastefully – than seems to me right and proper; also, I think quite as much sin may be committed by being proud of plainness in dress as proud of wearing finery. What I am aiming at is to have my little daughter look upon dress as a secondary matter, and feel far more anxious to be one who is pleasing in the sight of her heavenly Father than one admired and envied by some earthly creature as the possessor of wealth, and fine or costly raiment. In short, I want you to feel that the style and richness of your attire is a matter of little consequence, while to live in the light of God's countenance, pleasing and honoring him and growing in holiness and conformity to his will, is to be desired and striven for beyond everything else."

"Yes, papa," she said softly, "I will ask God to help me to do so; and you will pray for me too, won't you?"

"Indeed I will, my darling; we will kneel down and ask him now; ask for help to keep from indulging in worldly mindedness and vanity, and that our earnest desire and effort may ever be to serve and honor and glorify him in all our words and ways."

"My own dear father," she said, when they had risen from their knees, "I am sure that if I don't grow up a good Christian the fault will not be yours." Then, glancing at the bed where Grace lay in a profound sleep, "I am so glad and thankful that I am not feeble like poor, dear Gracie, because if I had to go to bed and to sleep so early as she almost always does, I'd miss these nice talks from you. But, fortunately, she doesn't need so much help to be good as I do. Ah, papa, I've given you a great deal more trouble to train me up right than she ever has, or will."

"My darling," he said, "if you only grow up to be a noble, useful Christian woman, such as I hope one day to see you, I shall feel more than repaid for all the anxiety, care, and trouble of your training."

CHAPTER X

Guests and entertainers, old and young, went to church the next morning, riding, driving, or walking, as best suited the inclination of each.

In the afternoon there was the usual gathering of the house servants and field hands on the lawn, near the veranda, where the family and guests were seated, and Mr. Dinsmore, Dr. Landreth, and Captain Raymond each gave them a little talk suited to their capacities, and the sacredness of the day, and their needs as members of the fallen race of man.

The captain, standing before them with an open Bible in his hand, said, "My friends, I want to talk with you a little, about some of the words spoken by the Apostle Paul when he was taking leave of the elders of the Church at Ephesus. He told them that he had been testifying both to the Jews, and also to the Greeks, repentance toward God and faith toward our Lord Jesus Christ. Now, what is meant by repentance toward God? It is a feeling of true sorrow for our sins against him (and everything wrong we have done, or thought, or felt was a sin against God). And what is it to have faith toward our Lord Jesus Christ? To believe in him as one abundantly able and willing to save us – to save us from sin, from the love of it, and the punishment due to us for it. We are all sinners; we have all come short of the glory of God, neglecting many things that we ought to have done, and doing very many things that we ought not to have done. We are all born with a sinful nature, and God only can change it, so that we will hate sin and love holiness: he only can give us true faith in his dear Son the Lord Christ.

"'By grace are ye saved through faith; and that not of yourselves: it is the gift of God.' We are saved by grace; it is only of God's undeserved goodness, not because we have done or can do anything pleasing in his sight. Paul speaks in this same chapter of the Gospel of the grace of God. Gospel means good news, and what could be better news than that? that God offers us salvation of his free, unmerited grace? What an offer that is! salvation as his free, undeserved gift, without money, and without price. His offer is, 'Come unto me and be ye saved all ye ends of the earth.' No one is left out; this wonderful offer is to each one of us, and to every other inhabitant of this world, so that if any one fails to be saved, the fault will be all his own. For God has said, 'I have no pleasure in the death of him that dieth: wherefore turn yourselves and live ye.' And oh, how plain he has made it that he does love us and would have us live! '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.'"

The service was not a long one, and when it was over the captain repaired to the school-room with Lulu and Grace to hear them recite their Bible verses and catechism.

When that duty had been attended to, "Now, daughters," he said, "if you have anything to say, or questions suitable to the sacredness of the day to ask, I am ready to listen and reply to the best of my ability; but even a child may ask a question that a grown person cannot answer," he added with a smile.

"Indeed, papa," said Grace, putting an arm round his neck and laying her cheek lovingly to his, "I think you do know 'most everything; and I'm oh! so glad God gave you to me for my own father."

"I know you are, Gracie, I'm sure of it; but you can't be gladder than I am that he is my father, too," said Lulu, lifting to his eyes full of filial love and reverence.

"Nor than I am that these two little girls are my very own," responded the captain, holding both in a close embrace. "But now for the questions."

"I have one to ask, papa," said Lulu. "It is, what does the Bible mean by growing in grace?"

"Growing in likeness to Jesus and in conformity to his will; having more and more of the love and fear of God in our hearts; more faith and patience, and more love to our fellow-creatures; for the more we love the Master, the more will we love those whom he died to redeem."

"And the more we love him, the more we will try to be like him?" Lulu said in a tone of mingled assertion and inquiry.

"Yes, my child; and it is the dearest wish of my heart that I may see my children thus growing in grace, and in likeness to the dear Master."

"Papa, I want to," said Grace softly; "oh, I want to, very much!"

"Then ask God to help you, my darling, remembering that he is the hearer and answerer of prayer."

"And you will ask him for both of us, won't you, papa?"

"I will, I do, my darling; there is never a day when I do not pray earnestly for each one of my dear children, that God will make them his own true followers and keep them in every time of trial and temptation, taking them safely to heaven at last. Life in this world is exceedingly short compared with the eternal existence which awaits us all in another – that life of infinite joy and blessedness at God's right hand, or of everlasting, untold misery, unending, inconceivable anguish, in the blackness of darkness, shut out forever from his presence," he added in moved tones. "God in his infinite goodness and mercy grant that the first and not the last may be the portion of each one of my beloved children!"

"Oh, papa," said Grace softly, "how can any one help loving the dear Saviour who died that we might go to heaven and not to that other awful place!"

"Oh," said Lulu, "I do want to love him more and serve him better! When I think of his wonderful goodness and love to us poor sinners, I'm just as ashamed as I can be that I don't love him at all as I ought, and am so often ill-tempered and selfish and bad. Papa, I do really think it is kind and good in you to punish me when I deserve it, and need it to make me a better girl."

"And I shall be very glad indeed if you never again make it necessary for me to do so," he responded.

"I do hope I won't," she returned. "Papa, I'm very much afraid I'll be thinking and talking to-day about the wedding and what everybody is going to wear at it, and I know I won't be in half so much danger of doing so if I keep close to you; so mayn't I?"

"Yes, daughter; I am always glad to have you near me," he said kindly; "and it pleases me that you are desirous to avoid temptation to do wrong."

"And you are just as willing to let me keep near you, papa?" Grace said inquiringly, and with a wistful, pleading look up into his face.

"Certainly, my dear little daughter. I love you not a whit less than I do your sister," he said, drawing her into a closer embrace. "However, you may both stay here reading your Bibles and Sunday school books for a half hour longer. Then I will come for you and you may spend the rest of the day as close to your father's side as you choose." With that he left them.

"Such a dear, good father as ours is!" exclaimed Lulu, gazing after him with loving, admiring eyes.

"Yes, indeed! I am sure there couldn't be a better or dearer one. Oh, I do love him so!" said Grace, turning over the leaves of her Bible. "Let's read verse about, Lu."

"I'm agreed; and let it be the Book of Esther. I do think that is such a lovely story."

"So it is; and so is Ruth, and that's shorter. I don't believe we'll have time to read all of Esther before papa comes for us."

"Maybe not," assented Lulu; "so we will read Ruth."

They had finished the story and were talking it over together when their father came. It was then nearly tea time.

Sacred music filled up most of the evening, and all the young girls and boys retired early to bed that they might be ready for the pleasures and employments of the coming day. The older people sat somewhat longer upon the veranda, conversing upon topics suited to the sacredness of the day. They were Christians, and loved to speak of the Master and the things concerning his kingdom.