CHAPTER XV.
"After the storm, a calm; after the rain, sunlight."
As Capt. Raymond passed through the hall on which Lulu's room opened, a little girl, dressed in deep mourning, rose from the broad, low sill of the front window, where she had been sitting waiting for the last few minutes, and came forward to meet him. She was a rather delicate-looking, sweet-faced child, with large dark eyes, full of intelligence.
"Capt. Raymond?" she said inquiringly, and with a timid look up into his face.
"Yes," he said, holding out his hand to her with a fatherly smile: "and you, I suppose, are my Lulu's little friend, Evelyn Leland?"
"Yes, sir: we—uncle Lester, aunt Elsie, little Ned, and I—have been away visiting at some distance, and did not hear of—of the baby's bad fall till we came home this afternoon. We are all so sorry, so very sorry! Aunt Elsie is with aunt Vi now; and I—oh! please, sir, may I go to Lulu?"
"My dear little girl, I should like to say yes, for your sake,—and Lulu's too,—but for the present I think best not to allow her to see any one," he said in a kindly tone, and affectionately pressing the little hand she had put into his. "But," seeing the disappointment in her face, "I entirely approve of the intimacy, and hope it will be kept up; for I think it has been of benefit to Lulu."
"Thank you, sir," she returned, coloring with pleasure. "But Lulu told me you had quite determined to send her away from here: I hope you will reconsider, and—let her stay," with a very coaxing look up into his face.
He smiled. "Can you keep a secret?" he asked,—"one from Lulu only, and that for but a few days?"
"Try me, sir," she answered brightly.
"I will. I have left the navy, and expect to settle down in this neighborhood. In that case, you and Lulu will not be separated; for my strongest reason for the change was, that I might have her constantly with me, and train her up as I think she should be trained; as perhaps no one but her father can train her."
Evelyn's face had grown very bright. "Oh, how delighted, how happy Lu will be when she hears it!" she exclaimed; "for, do you know, sir, she thinks there is nobody in the world to compare to her father?"
Those words brought a glad look into his face for the moment.
"Yes," he said, "she is a warm-hearted, affectionate child; a dear child, in spite of her quick temper."
A door had opened and closed: a step was coming down the hall, and a cheerful voice in his rear said, "Captain, I have good news for you: there has been a great, a really wonderful change for the better in the last hour; the child will live, and I hope, I believe, entirely recover from the injuries caused by her fall."
Before the doctor's sentence was finished, the captain had turned, and caught his hand in a vice-like grasp: his eyes filled, his breast heaved with emotions too big for utterance; he shook the hand warmly, dropped it, and, without a word, hurried into the nursery.
He found nearly the whole family gathered there, every face full of a great gladness.
The doctor, however, following him in, speedily cleared the room of all but two or three: only the two Elsies, besides himself and the parents, were left.
Violet looked up at her husband as he entered, with a face so bright and joyous that it recalled the days of their honeymoon.
"Oh, how happy I am! how good God has been to us!" she whispered, as he bent down to kiss her: "our darling is spared to us! See how sweetly she is sleeping!"
"Yes," he returned, in the same low tone, his features working with emotion: "and what double reason for joy and gratitude have I—the father of both the injurer and the injured!"
"Forgive me that I have felt a little hard to Lulu. I can and do forgive her now," she said, her sweet eyes looking penitently into his.
"Darling," he returned with emotion, "I have nothing to forgive, but shall be very glad if you can find any love in your heart, after this, for my wayward child, little as she merits it."
Then, without waiting for a reply, he turned to Mrs. Leland with a brotherly greeting, not having seen her before since his arrival at Ion.
"Vi has told me the glad tidings you brought her yesterday," she said, as he held her hand in his; "and I can't tell you how delighted we all are to know that you have come to stay among us."
"And now I can rejoice in that to the full, my dear, dear husband," Violet said, dropping her head on his shoulder as he sat down by her side, and put his arm about her.
For a little while they all sat silently watching the sleeping babe; then Arthur glanced at the clock, and, with a low-toned promise to be back in an hour, rose, and left the room.
"Excuse me for a little, dear," the captain said to Violet, and softly followed Arthur out to the hall.
"Can you spare me a moment?" he asked.
"Yes, full five of them, if necessary," was the jovial reply.
Arthur's heart was so light in consequence of the improvement in his young patient, that a jest came readily to his lips.
"Thank you," returned the captain warmly, then went on to describe
Lulu's condition, and ask what should be done for her.
"Relieve her mind as speedily as possible with the good news of the certainty of the baby's recovery, and, if you choose, the other glad tidings you brought us yesterday," Arthur answered. "The mental strain of the past two days has evidently been too much for her: she must have suffered greatly from grief, remorse, and terror. Relief from those will be the best medicine she could have, and probably work a speedy cure. Good-evening."
He hurried away, and the captain went at once to Lulu.
She was on the bed where he had left her, but, at the opening of the door, started up, and turned to him with a look of wild affright.
"Papa!" she cried breathlessly, "is—is the baby?—Oh, no! for how glad your face is!"
"Yes, baby is very much better; in fact, quite out of danger, the doctor thinks. And you? have you not slept?" he asked, bending over her in tender solicitude; for she had fallen back on her pillow, and was sobbing as if her heart would break, weeping for joy as she had before wept with sorrow, remorse, and penitence.
He lifted her from the bed, and sat down with her in his arms.
"Don't cry so, daughter, dear," he said soothingly, softly caressing her hair and cheek: "it will make your head ache still more."
"I can't help it, papa: I'm so glad, so very, very glad!" she sobbed; "so glad the dear baby will get well, and that I—I'm not a murderess. Papa, won't you thank God for me?"
"Yes," he said with emotion,—"for you and myself and all of us."
When they had risen from their knees, "Now I hope you can sleep a while, and afterward eat some supper," he said, lifting her, and gently laying her on the bed again.
"O papa! I wish you could stay with me a little longer," she cried, clinging to his hand.
"I cannot stay now, daughter," he said; "but I will come in again to bid you good-night."
He leaned over her, and kissed her several times. She threw her arm round his neck, and drew him down closer.
"Dear, dear papa!" she sobbed: "you are the best father in the world! and oh, I wish I was a better girl! Do you think I—I'm a curse to you now?"
"I think—I believe you are going to be a very great blessing to me, my own darling," he answered in tones tremulous with emotion. "I fear I was hard and cruel in what I said when I came to you that first time last night."
"No, papa, I deserved it every bit; but it 'most broke my heart, because I love you so. Oh, I do want to be a blessing to you, and I mean to try with all my might!"
"My dear little girl, my own little daughter, that is all I can ask," he said, repeating his caresses.
Then he covered her up with tender care, and left her, weary and exhausted with the mental suffering of the last two days, but with a heart singing for joy over his restored affection and the assurance of the baby's final recovery.
She expected to stay awake till he came again, but in less than five minutes was fast asleep.
The captain found Max and Gracie hovering near as he passed out into the hall.
"Papa," they said, coming hastily forward, "may we go in to see Lulu now?" Max adding, "I was too angry with her at first to want to see her, but I've got over that now." Grace: "And mayn't she know now that we're going to keep you always at home?" taking his hand in both of hers, and looking up coaxingly into his face.
"No, my dears, not to-night," he said: "she has cried herself sick—has a bad headache, and I want her to try to sleep it off."
"Poor Lu! she must have been feeling awfully all this time," Max said.
"I wish I hadn't been so very angry with her."
"You look very happy—you two," their father said, smiling down at them.
"So do you, sir," returned Max; "and I'm so glad, for you've been looking heart-broken ever since you came home."
"Pretty much as I have felt," he sighed, patting Gracie's cheek as he spoke.
"We are just as happy as we can be, papa," she said; "only I"—
"Well?" he said inquiringly as she paused, leaving her sentence unfinished.
"I'm just hungry to sit on your knee a little while; but," ruefully, "I s'pose you haven't time."
"Come into the nursery with me, and you shall sit there as long as you like, and are willing to keep perfectly quiet, so as not to disturb baby."
"Oh! thank you, papa," she returned joyously, slipping her hand into his. "I'll be as quiet as a mouse."
"I hope my turn will come to-morrow," remarked Max. "I've a hundred questions I want to ask."
"As many as you like, my boy, when I have time to listen; though I don't promise to answer them all to your entire satisfaction," his father replied, as he passed on into the nursery, taking Grace with him.
Max went down-stairs, where he found Evelyn Leland sitting alone in one of the parlors, waiting till her aunt Elsie should be ready to go back to Fairview.
"Max," she said, as he came in, and took a seat at her side, "you have just the nicest kind of a father!"
"Yes, that's so!" he returned heartily: "there couldn't be a better one."
"I wish he would let me see Lu," Evelyn went on: "I was in hopes he would after the doctor had told him the baby was sure to get well."
"I think he would, but that Lu has cried herself sick, and he wants her to sleep off her headache. He refused to let Gracie and me in for that reason."
"Poor thing!" Evelyn exclaimed, tears springing to her eyes. "I should think it must have been almost enough to set her crazy. But how happy she will be when she hears that your father isn't going away again, and means to keep her at home with him."
"Yes, indeed; she'll go wild with joy; it's what all three of us have wanted to have happen more than any thing else we could think of.
"I've often envied boys that could live at home with their fathers; though," he added with a happy laugh, "I've said to myself many a time, that mine was enough nicer than theirs to make up for having to do without him so much of the time; at least, I'd never have been willing to swap fathers with one of 'em. No, indeed!"
"Of course not," said Evelyn. "And I'm so delighted that Lu and I are not to be separated! I can hardly wait to talk with her about it, and the good times we'll have together."
A nap and a nice supper had refreshed Lulu a good deal; but she felt weak and languid, and was lying on the bed again when her father returned to her room.
She looked up at him wistfully as he came and stood beside her, then her eyes filled with tears.
"What is it?" he asked, lifting her from the bed, seating himself, and drawing her into his arms: "what is your petition? for I read in your eyes that you have one to make."
"Papa, you won't send me away—very—soon, will you?" she pleaded in tremulous tones, her arm round his neck, her face hidden on his shoulder.
"Not till I go myself; then I shall take you with me."
"To a boarding-school?" she faltered.
"No: I'm going to put you in a private family."
Her face was still hidden, and she did not see the smile in his eyes.
"What kind of people are they, papa?" she asked with a deep-drawn sigh.
"Very nice people, I think: the wife and mother is a very lovely woman, and the four children—a boy and three girls—are, I presume, neither better nor worse than my own four. The gentleman, who will teach you himself, along with the others, and have the particular care and oversight of you, is perhaps rather stern and severe with any one who ventures to disobey his orders; but I am quite certain, that, if you are good and obedient, he will be very kind and indulgent, possibly a trifle more indulgent than he ought to be."
Lulu began to cry again. "I don't like men-teachers!" she sobbed. "I don't like a man to have any thing to do with me. Please, please don't send me there, papa!"
"You want me to relent, and let you stay on here if they will have you?"
"No, no, papa! I don't want to stay here! I don't want to see anybody here again, except Max and Gracie; because I'm so ashamed of—of what I've done. I couldn't look any of them in the face, for I know they must despise me."
"I am sure you are mistaken in that, my child," he said gravely. "But what is it you do desire?"
"To be with you, papa. Oh, if I could only go with you!"
"And leave Max and Gracie?"
"I'll have to leave them, anyhow, if you take me away from here; and, though I love them very much, I love you a great deal better."
"I'm afraid you would have a doleful time on shipboard, with no young companions, nobody to see or speak to but your father and the other officers."
"I wouldn't care for that, or any thing, if I could only be with you.
Papa, you don't know how I love you!"
"Then, I'll take you with me when I leave here; and you need never live away from me any more, unless you choose."
"Papa," she cried, lifting her head to look up into his face, with glad, astonished eyes, "do you really mean it? May I go with you?"
He held her close, with a joyous laugh.
"Why, I understood you to say, a moment since, that you didn't want to be in the care of a man,—any man."
"But you know I didn't mean you, papa."
"But I am the gentleman I spoke of a little while ago, as the one in whose care I intended to put you."
"Papa," she said, with a bewildered look, "I don't understand."
Then he told her; and she was, as Max had foreseen, almost wild with delight.
"Oh!" she cried, "how nice, nice it will be to have a home of our very own, and our father with us all the time! Papa, I think I sha'n't sleep a wink to-night, I'm so glad."
"I trust it will not have that effect," he said, "I hesitated a little about telling you to-night, lest it might interfere with your rest; but you seemed so unhappy about your future prospects, that I felt I must relieve you of the fear of being sent away among strangers."
"You are so very good and kind to me, papa," she returned gratefully.
"Where is our dear home to be?"
"I don't know, yet," he said. "I have not had time to look about in search of house or land; but I hope to be able to buy or build a house somewhere in this region, as near Ion as a pleasant location can be found."
"I hope you'll find a house ready built, papa," she said. "I shouldn't know how to wait for one to be built."
"Not if, by waiting, we should, in the end, have a much nicer, pleasanter one?"
She considered a moment. "Couldn't we rent a house to live in while we get our own built?"
"I think that plan might answer quite well," he said with a smile. "I had no idea you were such a business woman. Probably that is what we will do, for I am as anxious to get to housekeeping as even you can be."
"But, papa," she exclaimed, with a look as if struck by a sudden and not very pleasant thought, "may I—will you be vexed if I ask you something?"
"Suppose you find out by asking?"
"I—I hope you won't think it's impertinence, papa, I don't mean it for that," she said with hesitation, hanging her head, and blushing; "but—but—I hope it isn't mamma Vi's money we're to live on?"
He put his hand under her chin, and lifted her face, so that he could look down into her eyes; and she drew a long breath of relief as she perceived that he was smiling at her.
"No," he said. "You come honestly by your pride of independence. I would no more live on mamma Vi's money than you would."
"Oh, I'm so glad! But—then, how can you do without your pay, papa?"
"Because my heavenly Father has prospered me, and given me money enough of my own (or, rather, lent it to me; for all we have belongs to him, and is only lent to us for a time) to provide all that is necessary for my family, and educate my children.
"Now we have had a long talk, which has, I trust, made my dear little girl much happier; and it is time for you to go to your bed for the night."
"I don't like to have you leave me," she said, clinging about his neck; "but you were very kind to stay so long. Won't you come soon in the morning?"
"You are not a prisoner any longer," he said, caressing her: "you are free to leave this room, and go where you choose about the house and grounds to-morrow."
"But I don't want to. O papa! I can't face them! Mayn't I stay in my room till you are ready to take me to our own home?"
"You will have to face them sometime," he said; "but we will see what can be done about it. Would you like to see Max and Gracie to-night?"
"Gracie, ever so much; but Max—I—I don't know how he feels toward me, papa."
"Very kindly. He has been asking permission to come in to see you; and Gracie has pleaded quite hard for it, and to have you forgiven, and told the good news."
"Gracie always is so dear and kind," she said tremulously; "and Maxie isn't often cross with me. Yes, papa, I should like to see them both."
"Your friend Evelyn was here this afternoon, asking permission to come in to see you, but is gone now. You may see her to-morrow, if you want to. Ah! I hear your brother and sister in the hall."
He opened the door, and called to them. They came bounding in, so full of delight over the pleasant prospect opening before them, as hardly to remember that Lulu had been in such dreadful disgrace.
"O Lu! has papa told you the good news?" they cried.
"Yes."
"And aren't you glad?"
"Yes; glad as glad can be. But, oh, I wish the home was ready to go into to-night!"
Her father laughed. "I think you were born in a hurry, Lulu," he said.
"You are never willing to wait a minute for any thing.
"Well, I suppose you children would prefer to be left to yourselves for a while; so I will leave you. You may talk fifteen minutes together, but no longer; as it is your bedtime now, Gracie's at least."
"O papa! don't go!" they all exclaimed in a breath. "Please stay with us: we'd rather have you, a great deal rather!"
He could not resist their entreaties, so sat down, and drew his two little girls into his arms, while Max stationed himself close at his side.
"My dear children," he said, "you can hardly be happier in the prospect before us than your father is."
"Is mamma Vi glad?" asked Lulu.
"Yes; quite as much rejoiced, I think, as any of the rest of us."
"But doesn't she want me sent away to school or somewhere?" with a wistful, anxious gaze into his face. "Is she willing to have me in the new home, papa?"
"Yes, daughter, more than willing: she wants you to be under your father's constant care and watchfulness, hoping that so he may succeed in teaching you to control your temper."
"She's very good and forgiving," was Lulu's comment in a low and not unmoved tone.
"Papa, when will you begin to look for the new home?" asked Grace, affectionately stroking his cheek and whiskers with her small white hand.
"I have been looking at advertisements," he said; "and, now that baby is out of danger, I shall begin the search in earnest."
"Can we afford a big house, and handsome furniture, papa?" queried Lulu.
"And to keep carriage and riding horses?" asked Max.
"I hope my children have not been so thoroughly spoiled by living in the midst of wealth and luxury, that they could not content themselves with a moderately large house, and plain furniture?" he said gravely.
"I'd rather live that way with you, than have all the fine things, and you not with us, dear papa," Lulu said, putting her arm round his neck, and laying her cheek to his.
"I too."
"And I," said Max and Grace.
"And I," he responded, smiling affectionately upon them, "would prefer such a home with my children about me, to earth's grandest palace without them. Millions of money could not buy one of my treasures!"
"Not me, papa?" whispered Lulu tremulously, with her lips close to his ear.
"No, dear child, not even you," he answered, pressing her closer to his side. "You are no less dear than the others."
"I deserve to be," she said with tears in her voice. "It would be just and right, papa, if you did not love me half so well as any of your other children."
She spoke aloud this time, as her father had.
"We all have our faults, Lu," remarked Max, "but papa loves us in spite of them."
"'God commendeth his love toward us, in that, while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us,'" quoted the captain. "If God so loved me, while yet his enemy, a rebel against his rightful authority, I may well love my own children in spite of all their faults, even were those faults more and greater by far than they are."
"Then, papa, I think we should love you well enough to try very hard to get rid of them," returned Max.
"And the wonderful love of God for us should constrain us to hate and forsake all sin," said his father. "The Bible bids us to 'be followers of God as dear children.' And oh, how we should hate sin when we remember that it crucified our Lord!"
There was a momentary silence: then the children began talking joyfully again of the new home in prospect for them, and their hopes and wishes in regard to it.
Their father entered heartily into their pleasure, and encouraged them to express themselves freely, until the clock, striking nine, reminded him that more than the allotted time for the interview had passed. Then he bade them say good-night, and go to their beds, promising that they should have other opportunities for saying all they wished on the subject.
CHAPTER XVI.
"'Tis easier for the generous to forgive
Than for offence to ask it."
In passing through the hall on his way from Lulu's room to the nursery,
Capt. Raymond met "grandma Elsie."
She stopped him, and asked, in a tone of kindly concern, if Lulu was ill, adding, that something she had accidentally overheard him saying to the doctor had made her fear the child was not well.
"Thank you, mother," he said: "you are very kind to take any interest in Lulu after what has occurred. No, she is not quite well: the mental distress of the last two days has been very great, and has exhausted her physically. It could not, of course, be otherwise, unless she were quite heartless. She is full of remorse for her passion and its consequences, and my only consolation is the hope that this terrible lesson may prove a lasting one to her."
"I hope so, indeed," Elsie said, with emotion. "Yes, she must have suffered greatly; for she is a warm-hearted, affectionate child, and would not, I am sure, have intentionally done her baby sister an injury."
"No, it was not intentional; yet, as the result of allowing herself to get into a passion, she is responsible for it, as she feels and acknowledges.
"And so deeply ashamed is she, that she knows not how to face the family, or any one of them, and therefore entreats me to allow her to seclude herself in her own room till I can take her to the home I hope to make for my wife and children ere long."
"Poor child!" sighed Elsie. "Tell her, Levis, that she need not shrink from us as if we were not sinners, as well as herself. Shall I go in to-morrow morning, and have a talk with her before breakfast?"
"It will be a great kindness," he said, flushing with pleasure, "and make it much easier for her to show herself afterwards at the table. But I ought to ask if you are willing to see her there in her accustomed seat?"
"I shall be glad to do so," Elsie answered, with earnest kindliness of look and tone. "She was not banished by any edict of mine or papa's."
"No: I forbade her to leave her room while the baby was in a critical condition. Yet I think she had no disposition to leave it,—shame and remorse causing a desire to hide herself from everybody."
"It strikes me as a hopeful sign," Elsie said; "and I do not despair of one day seeing Lulu a noble woman, the joy and pride of her father's heart."
She held out her hand as she spoke.
The captain grasped it warmly. "Thank you, mother, for those kind and hopeful words," he said with emotion. "For the last year or two, she has been alternately my joy and my despair; and I am resolved to leave no effort untried to rescue her from the dominion of her fierce temper.
"The task would doubtless have been far easier could I have undertaken it years ago, in her early infancy. But I trust it is not yet too late to accomplish it, with the help and the wisdom I may have in answer to prayer.
"No, I am sure it is by no means a hopeless undertaking, looking where you do for needed strength and wisdom; and I rejoice almost as much for Lulu's sake as for Vi's, that you have now come among us to stay. I will try to see her in the morning, and do what I can to make it easy for her to join the family circle again.
"And now good-night. I must not keep you longer from the wife who grudges every moment that you are absent from her side," she concluded, with a smile as sweet and beautiful as that of her girlhood's days.
While the captain and his mother-in-law held this little conversation in the upper hall, Zoe and Rosie were promenading the veranda, arm in arm. They had been talking of Violet and her baby, rejoicing together over its improved condition.
"How dreadful the last two days have been to poor Vi!" exclaimed Rosie, "even in spite of the home-coming of her husband, which has always before this made her so happy. In fact, it has been a dreadful time to all of us; and nobody to blame except that bad-tempered Lulu.
"At least, so I think," she added, conscience giving her a twinge; "though mamma says I ought to have let her have my pony, and taken my own ride later in the day, if I wanted one."
"It would have been more polite and unselfish, wouldn't it?" queried Zoe, in a teasing tone. "I dare say it is what mamma herself would have done under the same circumstances."
"I have no doubt of that," returned Rosie; "but mamma and I are two very different people. I can never hope to be as good and unselfish as she is, and always has been so far as I can learn."
"Ah! but there's nothing like trying," laughed Zoe.
"Suppose you tell Lulu that, advising her to undertake the task of controlling her temper."
"She was quite a good while without an outbreak," said Zoe; "and really,
Rosie, that dog of yours is extremely trying at times."
"It's quite trying to me, that I've had to send him away, and can't have him about any more till Lulu's gone. I'll be sorry to have Vi leave Ion, but rejoiced to be rid of Lulu. I wonder if the captain still intends to send her away? I sincerely hope so, for Vi's sake. Poor little Elsie may be killed outright the next time Lulu has an opportunity to vent her spite upon her."
"O Rosie! how can you talk so?" exclaimed Zoe. "haven't you heard that Lulu says she thought it was your dog she was kicking at? and that she has been really sick with distress about the baby? As to sending her away to be trained and taught by strangers—her father has no idea of doing it: in fact,—so Vi told Ned,—the conviction that Lulu needed his constant oversight and control had a great deal to do in leading him to resign from the service and come home to live."
"Then, he's a very good father,—a great deal better one than she deserves. But I'm sorry for Vi and her baby."
"You needn't be: surely the captain should be able to protect them from
Lulu," laughed Zoe.
Rosie laughed too, remarked that it must be getting late; and they went into the house.
* * * * *
"I do wish papa would come for me. I can't bear to go down alone to breakfast," Lulu was saying to herself the next morning, when a light step in the hall without caught her ear: then there was a tap at the door; and, opening it, she found the lady of the house standing on the threshold.
"Good-morning, my child," she said in pleasant, cheery tones, and smiling sweetly as she spoke; then, bending clown, she gave the little girl a kiss.
"Good-morning, grandma Elsie," murmured Lulu, blushing deeply, and casting down her eyes: "you are very kind to come to see me, and to kiss me too, when I have been so bad. Please take a chair," she added, drawing one forward.
"Thank you, dear; but I would rather sit on the sofa yonder, with you by my side," Elsie said, taking Lulu's hand, and leading her to it, then, when they had seated themselves, putting the other arm about the child's waist, and drawing her close to her side. "I feel that I have been neglecting you," she went on; "but my thoughts have been much taken up with other things, and"—
"O grandma Elsie!" cried Lulu, bursting into tears. "I didn't deserve that you should show me the least kindness, or think of me at all except as a very bad, disagreeable girl. I should think you'd want to turn me out of your house, and say I should never come into it again."
"No, dear child, I have no such feeling toward you: if I had, should I not be very much like that wicked servant to whom his lord had forgiven a debt of ten thousand talents, yet who refused to have compassion on his fellow-servant who owed him a hundred pence? I should, indeed; for my sins against God have been far greater, and more heinous, than yours against me or mine."
"But you were always such a good child when you were a little girl, and
I am such a bad one."
"No, my dear; that is quite a mistake; I was not always good as a child, and I am very far from being perfect as a woman."
"You seem so to me, grandma Elsie: I never know of your doing and saying any thing the least bit wrong."
"But you, my child, see only the outward appearance, while God looks at the heart; and he knows that, though I am truly his servant, trying earnestly to do his will, I fall lamentably short of it."
"Grandma Elsie, I didn't know it was the baby: I didn't mean to hurt her."
"No, my dear, I know you didn't."
"But papa said he must punish me all the same, because it was being in a passion that made me do it. Grandma Elsie, if you had such a dreadful temper as mine, wouldn't you be discouraged about ever conquering it?"
"No, my child, not while I could find such words as these in the Bible: 'O Israel, thou hast destroyed thyself: but in Me is thine help.' 'Thou shalt call his name Jesus; for he shall save his people from their sins.' 'He is able also to save them to the uttermost that come unto God by him.' 'God is faithful, who will not suffer you to be tempted above that ye are able; but will with the temptation also make a way to escape, that ye may be able to bear it.'"
"'His people,'" repeated Lulu; then with a sigh, "But I am not one of them, grandma Elsie; so those promises are not for me."
"He invites you to become one of his people, and then they will be for you.
"'Come unto me, all ye that labor and are heavy laden,' Jesus says, 'and
I will give you rest.'
"You feel yourself heavy laden with that unconquerable temper, do you not?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"Then, that invitation is for you; and it will not be unconquerable with the Lord to help you.
"'The God of Israel is he that giveth strength and power unto his people.' 'And they that stumbled are girded with strength.' You cannot doubt that you are included in the invitation, for it is, 'Whosoever will, let him take the water of life freely.' And the time to come is now: 'Now is the accepted time; behold, now is the day of salvation.'"
The breakfast-bell rang at that moment; and grandma Elsie, rising, took Lulu's hand, saying, "Come, my dear, you need not shrink from joining us at the table: no one will be disposed to treat you unkindly."
As she spoke, the door opened, and Capt. Raymond and Violet came in. They exchanged morning greetings with their mother; while Lulu, with eyes cast down, and cheeks aflame, half shrank behind her, ashamed and afraid to meet Violet's gaze.
But Violet bent down and kissed her affectionately, saying in a kindly tone, "I hope you are feeling better than you did yesterday?"
"O mamma Vi!" Lulu cried, throwing her arm round her young step-mother's neck, and bursting into tears, "is baby still getting better? and will you forgive me? I am, oh, so sorry!"
"Yes, dear, baby is improving fast; and it is all forgiven, so far as I am concerned," was the gentle reply.
Then the captain kissed his little girl good-morning, and they all went down to the breakfast-room together.
The worst was over to Lulu in having seen Violet, yet it was quite an ordeal to her to face the rest of the large family; but each one spoke pleasantly to her. Rosie alone bestowed so much an unkind look upon her, and that was wasted; for Lulu, expecting it from that quarter more than any other, constantly averted her gaze from Rosie, keeping her eyes down, or turned in another direction.
Dr. Conly had joined them as they sat down, and presently he addressed the captain:—
"I hear, Raymond, that you would like to buy in this neighborhood."
"Yes, if I can find a suitable place,—one that will satisfy my wife as well as myself," the captain answered with a smiling glance at Violet.
"Well, Vi, how would Woodburn answer, so far as you are concerned?" queried Arthur.
"Woodburn! is it for sale?" she cried delightedly. "O Levis!" turning to her husband, "it is a lovely old place! A visit there was always a great treat to me as a child."
"And it is really for sale?" exclaimed several voices in chorus, all eyes turning inquiringly upon Dr. Conly.
"Yes, so Miss Elliott told me yesterday," replied Arthur. "She was slightly indisposed, and sent for me, and, while telling of her ailments, remarked that she was very lonely since her sister Margaret had married and gone, leaving her sole occupant—not taking servants into account—of that large house, with its extensive grounds. So she had at last decided, she said, to comply with her sister's urgent request to sell the place, and take up her abode with them.
"She had thought of advertising, and asked my advice about it. Of course, I thought at once of you and Vi, captain, told her I knew of a gentleman who might like to become a purchaser, and that I would promise her a call from him to-day to look at the place. Will you redeem my promise?"
"Gladly," responded the captain, "especially as Vi expresses so strong a liking for the place. Will you go with me, my dear?"
"I hardly like to leave my baby yet," she answered dubiously. "But if you should feel entirely satisfied with the house, the grounds, and the price asked for them, you could not please me better than by making the purchase."
"There! if Miss Elliott only knew it, she might consider the estate as good as sold," remarked Zoe.
"If she is willing to take a reasonable price, I presume she might," said Arthur. "Captain, I will go there directly from here: will you drive over with me, and take a look at the place?"
"Yes, thank you; and have a talk with the lady, if you will give me an introduction."
Max and Lulu, sitting side by side at the table, exchanged glances,—Lulu's full of delight, Max's only interested. He shook his head in response to her's.
"What do you mean? wouldn't you like it?" she asked in an undertone.
"Yes, indeed! but I'm pretty sure papa couldn't afford such a place as that: it must be worth a good many thousands."
Lulu's look lost much of its brightness; still, she did not quite give up hope, as the conversation went on among their elders, Woodburn and the Elliotts continuing to be the theme.
"Will it be near enough to Ion?" Capt. Raymond asked, addressing Violet more particularly. "What is the distance?"
"Something over a mile, they call it," said Mr. Dinsmore.
"That is as near as we can expect to be, I suppose," said Violet.
"And with carriages and horses, bicycles, tricycles, and telephones, we may feel ourselves very near neighbors indeed," remarked Edward. "When the weather is too inclement for mamma or Vi to venture out, they can talk together by the hour through the telephone, if they wish."
"And it won't often be too inclement to go back and forth," said Zoe; "almost always good enough for a close carriage, if for nothing else."
"We are talking as if the place were already secured," remarked Violet, with a smiling glance at her husband.
"I think you may feel pretty sure of it if you want it, love; unless Miss Elliott should change her mind about selling," he responded, in a tone too low to reach any ear but hers.
She gave him a bright, glad look, that quite settled the matter so far as he was concerned; he would, if necessary, give even an exorbitant price for the place, to please her.
"Have you never seen Woodburn, captain?" asked Mrs. Dinsmore.
"I have some recollection of driving past it," he replied meditatively; "but—is not the house nearly concealed from view from the road, by a thick growth of trees and shrubbery?"
"Yes: you will thin them out a little, I hope, for the mansion is well worth looking at; it is a very aristocratic-looking dwelling,—large, substantial, and handsome architecturally."
"Papa, are you going to buy it?" asked Grace.
"It is too soon to answer that question, daughter," he said pleasantly; and Max and Lulu again exchanged glances, which said this time, "Maybe he will, after all."
Both ardently wished their father would propose taking them along; he did not: but when Dr. Conly said, with a kindly glance at Grace, "There will be room in my carriage for a little friend of mine, if papa is willing to let her go with us," he at once said,—
"Certainly, Gracie may go, if she will be ready in season, and not keep the doctor waiting."
"Indeed I will, papa," she cried delightedly, and ran away to don hat and coat; for the meal was concluded, and everybody leaving the table.
Lulu followed her father, till, in the hall, she found an opportunity to speak to him without being overheard.
"Papa," she asked, "what am I to do with myself to-day?"
"Stay in your room, and learn your lessons, beginning just where you left off the other day. You will recite to me after I come back; then we will consider what you shall do for the rest of the day."
"Yes, sir: may I see Evelyn when she comes?"
"If she chooses to go to you in your room."
"Must I stay in my room all the time?" she asked dejectedly.
"While I am away. I will take you out after I return." Then, noticing her downcast look, "You shall have more liberty when we get into our own home," he said kindly.
At that she looked up with a bright, glad smile. "Papa, it will be so nice!"
Max had drawn near.
"Papa," he said, "won't you let Lu take a walk with me? Mayn't we run over to Fairview, and bring Evelyn back with us? I know she'd be glad to have company coming over to school."
"Yes, you may go, both of you, if you like. But, Lulu, when you get home, go at once to your room: don't stop in the grounds or on the veranda."
"I won't, papa," she said: "I'll go straight to my room, and, oh, thank you for letting me go!"
CHAPTER XVII.
"Home, sweet home!"
"How large is the estate, doctor?" asked Capt. Raymond, as they were on their way to Woodburn.
"I cannot say exactly," replied Arthur. "There is a bit of woodland comprising several acres; and lawn, gardens, and shrubbery cover several more. I believe that is all."
"About as much as I care for," returned the captain.
"The estate was formerly very large," Arthur went on,—"some thousands of acres,—and the family was a very wealthy one; but, like many others, they lost heavily by the war, and were compelled to part with one portion of the estate after another, till little more than the homestead was left; and now it seems that it, too, must go."
"Are they so reduced?" the captain asked in a tone of deep sympathy.
"I think Miss Elliott does not feel compelled to part with it, and would still live on there, if it were not for the loneliness of the situation, and a natural desire to be with her sister, the only remaining member of their once large family, besides herself."
"Yes, yes: I see. I understand, and shall feel much more comfortable in buying it, than if I knew that poverty compelled her to part with it against her will."
"That shows your kindness of heart," Arthur said, turning toward his friend with an appreciative smile.
The next moment they had entered the Woodburn grounds, and Capt. Raymond and Grace were glancing from side to side in a very interested manner.
"The place is a good deal run down," remarked Arthur. "They have not had the means to keep it up, I suppose; but if it comes into your hands, captain, you can soon set matters right in regard to that; and I, for one, shall greatly enjoy seeing the improvement."
"And I making it," was the cheery rejoinder; "more, I think, than taking possession of a place that was too perfect to be improved."
"Papa, I'd just love to have this for our home!" cried Gracie, flushing with pleasure as she glanced here and there, and then up into his face with an eager, questioning look, "Won't you buy it, papa?" coaxingly.
"It is still too soon for that question, my child," he said, smiling down at her. "But I hope to be able to answer it before very long."
They had reached the house, and were presently ushered into the presence of its owner. She was desirous to sell, the captain to buy,—willing also to give not only a fair, but a liberal, price; so it took but a short time for them to come to an agreement.
He bought the land, house, furniture, every thing just as it stood; was promised possession in two weeks, and accorded the privilege of at once beginning any repairs or alterations he might deem desirable.
Before making the agreement, he had inspected the whole house. He found it large, conveniently arranged, and in very tolerable repair.
The furniture had evidently been very handsome in its day, and would do quite well, he thought, to begin with: much of it might, with re-upholstering and varnishing, please Violet as well as any that could be bought elsewhere. He was eager to bring her to look at it, the house and the grounds.
These last delighted both himself and Grace, although lawn and gardens were far from being as trim and neat as those of Ion and Fairview: there was an air of neglect about the whole place, but that could soon be remedied.
The bit of woodland was beautiful; and through it, and across lawn and gardens, ran a little stream of clear, sparkling water,—a pretty feature in the landscape, without being deep enough to be dangerous to the little ones.
Grace went everywhere with her father, up-stairs and down, indoors and out, quietly looking and listening, but seldom speaking, unless addressed.
Once or twice she said, in a low aside, "Papa, I'd like to live here, if you can 'ford to buy it.
"Papa, this is such a pretty room, and the view from that window is so nice!"
He would reply only by a kind smile, or a word or two of assent. She did not understand all the talk in the library after they had finished their round, and when they left was still in some doubt as to her father's intentions.
"Papa," she asked eagerly, as soon as they were fairly on their homeward way, "have you bought it?"
"We have come to an agreement," he answered.
"Then, is it ours?"
"It will be, as soon as I have got the deed, and handed over the money."
"Oh, I'm so glad!" she cried, clapping her hands with delight. "And we're to be 'lowed to go there to stay in two weeks, aren't we? I thought that was what Miss Elliott said."
"Yes: can you get all your possessions packed up by that time?"
"Yes, indeed, papa: one day would be enough time for that."
"And if you should happen to forget one of the dollies, you could go back for her," remarked the doctor.
"Or replace it with a new one," said the captain.
"But I love all my dollies, papa," she returned, with a wistful look up into his face: "they're my children, you know. Would you be satisfied with another new little girl 'stead of me?"
"No, indeed!" he replied, bending down to kiss her cheek. "If I had another new little girl given me, I should want to hold fast to my little Gracie too; and you shall keep all your dollies as long as you please."
Lulu and Max started on their walk to Fairview about the same time that
Dr. Conly drove away with their father and Grace.
Their talk was principally of the new home in prospect. Lulu had only driven past Woodburn several times; but Max had been taken there once by Dr. Conly, with whom he was almost as great a favorite as his sister Grace, and had seen not only the grounds, but one or two rooms of the mansion.
Lulu was eager to hear all he had to tell about the place, and he not at all averse to describing what he had seen.
So interested were they in the topic, that they reached the entrance to the Fairview grounds almost ere they were aware of it.
"Oh, we're here!" exclaimed Lulu, in some surprise. "Max, I'll stay outside, while you go up to the house, for—I—I can't bear to see aunt Elsie and the others."
Her eyes were downcast, her cheeks burning with blushes as she spoke.
"But you may as well get it over," said Max: "you'll have to see them all sometime."
"You don't care a bit, do you?" she said, in a hurt tone.
"Yes, I do; I'm right sorry for you; but I can't help your having to meet them sooner or later."
"But I'm afraid I won't be welcome to aunt Elsie. What if she should tell me to go out of the house, she didn't want such a bad girl there?"
"She isn't that kind of person," said Max. "But here comes Eva," as the little girl came tripping down the avenue to meet them.
She shook hands with Max, then threw her arms round Lulu, and kissed her.
"O Eva! I'm 'most ashamed to look at you," murmured Lulu, half averting her blushing face. "I shouldn't think you'd want me for your friend any more."
"I do, though: I love you dearly, and should have gone to your room yesterday if your papa had not refused to allow it," responded Evelyn, repeating her caress. "Come in and rest, both of you: aunt Elsie told me to ask you."
"I'm not sure that papa meant to give me permission to go into the house," said Lulu, hanging back.
"No,—come to think of it,—I don't believe he did," said Max. "Besides, it must be pretty near school-time; so if you are ready, Eva, and want to walk, we'll start back directly, and be glad to take you with us."
"Yes, I prefer to walk," she said: "I'll be ready in five minutes, and glad to have your company."
Mrs. Leland was on the veranda.
"Won't they come in?" she asked of Evelyn, as the child came hurrying up the steps.
"No, auntie: Lu is not quite certain that her papa gave her permission."
"Then, I'll go to them."
Lulu's eyes were on the ground, her cheeks hot with blushes, as Mrs. Leland drew near the rustic bench on which she and Max had seated themselves.
"Good-morning, my dears: I am sorry you cannot come in and sit a while," was her pleasant greeting. Then she shook hands with Max and kissed Lulu.
"I heard you were not well yesterday, Lulu: I hope you feel quite so this morning?"
"Yes, ma'am, thank you."
"I heard from Ion before breakfast, and am delighted that baby is still improving, as, no doubt, you are, both of you."
"Yes, indeed!" exclaimed Max.
"And I am gladder than words can tell," said Lulu, a tear rolling quickly down her cheek. "Aunt Elsie, I do love her! I think she is the nicest, sweetest baby I ever saw."
"Yes, my dear; and I have no doubt you intend to be the best of sisters to her."
"Oh, I do! I can't ever make up to her for—for hurting her so, though I did not mean to do it."
"Of course not: you couldn't be so cruel toward any baby, but especially your own sweet little sister," was the gentle, sweet-toned reply. "I am rejoiced, especially for you, my dears, and for your mamma, that your father is going to settle down here; for I know it will add greatly to your happiness, he is such a good husband and father, and you will so enjoy having a home of your own."
"Yes, aunt Elsie: we think it is the best thing that could have happened to us," replied Max.
Evelyn joined them at that moment; so they said good-by, and started on their way back to Ion.
"Eva," said Max, "have you heard about Woodburn?"
"No; what about it?"
"It's for sale, and perhaps papa will buy it."
"Oh, how nice that would be!" she exclaimed. "I've been there with aunt Elsie, and it's just a lovely place! It has a rather neglected look now; but it wouldn't take long to remedy that, and then it would be quite as handsome as Ion or Fairview, or any other place about here. Aren't you happy, Lu?"
"I shall be if papa gets it; but the best thing of all is, that he is to be with us all the time."
"Yes, of course," sighed Evelyn, thinking of the happy days when she had her father with her. "Lu," she said presently, "I know you are not to be sent away; but where are you to go to school?"
"To papa," replied Lulu, with a glad look and smile.
Evelyn sighed again. "The only part I regret," she remarked, "is that we have to give up being together in our studies,—you and I. Unless," she added the next moment, as if struck by a sudden thought, "your father would take me as a pupil too. But I wouldn't dare to ask it."
"I would," said Max: "I dare ask papa almost any thing,—unless it was leave to do something wrong,—and I'll undertake to sound him on the subject."
"I'm not afraid to ask him, either," said Lulu; "and he's so kind, I do believe he'll say yes, or at least that he'll do it if everybody else is agreed. Have you seen him, Eva?"
"Yes; and he had such a kind, fatherly manner toward me, that I fell in love with him at once. I believe I'd be glad to have him adopt me if he was badly in want of another daughter about my age," she added, with a merry look and smile.
"I believe he'd be the gainer if he could swap me off for you," said Lulu, catching her friend's tone; "but I'm very happy in feeling quite sure he would rather have me, bad as I am, just because I am his own."
"That makes all the difference in the world," said Evelyn; "and perhaps, on becoming acquainted with my faults, he might think them worse than yours."
It was not quite school-time when they reached Ion, and Evelyn proposed that they should spend the few intervening minutes in the grounds.
"I'd like to, ever so much," said Lulu; "but papa bade me go directly to my own room on getting home. So good-by," and she moved on resolutely in the direction of the house.
"Good-by. I'll see you again when school is out, if I can," Evelyn called after her.
Lulu's thoughts were so full of other things, she found great difficulty in fixing them upon her lessons. But saying to herself that it would be much too bad to fail in her first recitations to her father, she exerted her strong will to the utmost, and succeeded. She was quite ready for him when, at length, he came in.
But looking up eagerly from her book, "Papa," she asked, "have you, oh! have you, bought it?"
"Bought what?" he asked smilingly, as he sat down and drew her to his side.
"O papa! you know! Woodburn, I mean."
"I think I have secured it," he said, "and that it will make a very delightful home for us all."
"Oh, I am so glad!" she cried, throwing her arms round his neck, and giving him a vigorous hug. "When can we move in, papa?"
"In about two weeks, probably: can you stand having to wait for that length of time?"
"I s'pose I'll have to," she said, laughing a little ruefully. "It'll help very much that I'll have you here, and see you every day. Are you going to keep me shut up in this room all the time?"
"No: did I not tell you, you were no longer a prisoner?"
"Oh, yes, sir! but I—I don't care very much to—to be with Rosie and the rest."
"I prefer that you should not be, except when I am present," he returned gravely. "I want to keep you with me as much as possible; and would rather have you alone, or with Evelyn, Max, and Gracie only, when I am not with you."
"I like that best, too, papa," she replied humbly; "for I can't trust myself not to get into a passion with Rosie and her dog, and I suppose you can't trust me either."
"Not yet, daughter," he said gently; "but I hope the time will come when
I can. Now we will attend to the lessons."
When the recitations were finished, "Papa," she said, with an affectionate, admiring look up into his face, "I think you are a very nice teacher: you make every thing so clear and plain, and so interesting. I'm so glad you're the gentleman who is to have charge of me," she added with a happy laugh.
"So am I," he said, caressing her. "I am very glad, very thankful, to be able to take charge of all my own children; and whatever I may lack in experience and ability as a teacher, I hope to make up in the deep interest I shall always feel in the welfare and progress of my pupils."
She then told him of Evelyn's wish, concluding With, "Won't you, dear papa? I'd like it so much, and Eva is such a good girl you wouldn't have a bit of trouble managing her. She's just as different from me as possible."
"Quite a recommendation; and if I were as sure of proving a competent teacher, I should not hesitate to grant your request. But it is a new business to me, and perhaps it would not be wise for me to undertake the tuition of more than my own three at present. However," he added, seeing her look of disappointment, "I will take the matter into consideration."
"Oh, thank you, sir! Papa, I've just thought of two things I want to talk to you about."
"Very well; let me hear them."
"The first is about my being so naughty at Viamede," she went on, hanging her head, and blushing deeply; "in such a passion at Signor Foresti, and so obstinate and disobedient to grandpa Dinsmore."
"I was very sorry to hear of it all," he said gravely: "but what about it?"
"Don't you have to punish me for it?" she asked, half under her breath.
"No: the punishment I gave you the other night settled all accounts up to that date."
She breathed more freely.
"Papa, would you have made me go back to that horrid man after he struck me?"
"It is not worth while to consider that question at this late day. Now, what else?" he asked.
"Papa, I spoiled one of those valuable books of engravings belonging to grandpa Dinsmore; no, I didn't exactly spoil it myself, but I took it out on the veranda without leave, and carelessly left it where Rosie's dog could get at it; and he scratched and gnawed and tore it, till it is almost ruined."
"I shall replace it at once," he said. "I am sorry you were so careless, and particularly that you took the book out there without permission; but that was not half so bad as flying into a passion, even if you hurt nothing or no one but yourself."
"But I did get into a passion, papa, at the dog and at Rosie," she acknowledged, in a frightened tone, and blushing more deeply than before.
"I am deeply grieved to hear it," he said.
"And won't you have to punish me for that, and for getting the book spoiled?"
"No: didn't I tell you just now that all accounts were settled up to the other night?"
"Papa, you're very, very kind," she said, putting her arm round his neck, and laying her head on his shoulder.
"I am very glad, that, with all her faults, my dear little daughter is so truthful and so open with me," he said, smoothing her hair.
"Papa, I'm ever so sorry you'll have to pay so much money to replace that book," she said. "But—you often give me some pocket-money, and—won't you please keep all you would give me till it counts up enough to pay for the book?"
"It is a right feeling, a feeling that pleases me, which prompts you to make that request," he said in a kind tone, and pressing his lips to her cheek; "and probably another time I may let you pay for such a piece of carelessness, but you need not in this instance. I feel rich enough to spare the money quite easily for that and an increase in my children's weekly allowance. What is yours now?"
"Fifty cents, papa."
"Where is your purse?"
She took it from her pocket, and put it into his hand.
"Only five cents in it," he remarked, with a smile, when he had examined.
Then, taking a handful of loose change from his pocket, he counted out four bright quarters and ten dimes, and poured them into her purse.
"O papa! so much!" she cried delightedly, "I feel ever so rich!"
He laughed at that. "Now," he said, "you shall have a dollar every week, unless I should have to withdraw it on account of some sort of bad behavior on your part. Max is to have the same; Gracie half a dollar till she is a little older: and you are all to keep an account of your spendings."
He took from another pocket, three little blank-books.
"One of these is for you: the others are for your brother and sister," he said. "See, there is a blank space for every day in the week; and, Whenever you lay out any money, you must write down in the proper place what it was that you bought, and how much it cost."
"And show it to you, papa?"
"Once in a while: probably, whenever I hand you your allowance, I shall look over your account for the week that is just past, and tell you what I think of the way you have laid out your money, in order to help you to learn to spend it judiciously."