Martha Finley - Elsie at Home

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ELSIE AT HOME

by

MARTHA FINLEY

Author of "Elsie Dinsmore," "Elsie's Vacation," etc.

Special Authorized Edition

[Illustration]

M. A. Donohue & Co
Chicago New York
Copyright, 1887.
by
Dodd, Mead and Company
All rights reserved.
Made in U.S.A.

ELSIE AT HOME.

CHAPTER I.

The shades of evening were closing in upon a stormy March day; rain and
sleet falling fast while a blustering northeast wind sent them sweeping
across the desolate-looking fields and gardens, and over the wet road
where a hack was lumbering along, drawn by two weary-looking steeds; its
solitary passenger sighing and groaning with impatience over its slow
progress and her own fatigue.

"Driver," she called, "are we ever going to arrive at Fairview?"

"One o' these days, I reckon, ma'am," drawled the man in reply. "It's
been a dreadful tedious ride for you, but a trifle worse for me, seein' I
get a lot more o' the wet out here than you do in thar."

"Yes," she returned in a tone of exasperation, "but I am a weak, ailing
woman and you a big, strong man, used to exertion and exposure." The
sentence ended in a distressing fit of coughing that seemed to shake her
whole frame.

"I'm right sorry fur ye, ma'am," he said, turning a pitying glance upon
her, "but just hold on a bit longer and we'll be there. We're e'n a'most
in sight o' the place now. Kin o' yourn and expecting ye, I s'pose?"

"It is the home of my daughter--my only child," she returned, bridling,
"and it will be strange indeed if she is not glad to see the mother whom
she has not seen for years."

"Surely, ma'am; and yonder's the house. We'll be there in five
minutes--more or less."

His passenger looked eagerly in the direction indicated.

"A large house, isn't it?" she queried. "One can't see much out of this
little pane of glass and through the rain and mist."

"It's a fine place, ma'am, and a good, big house," he returned. "I
wouldn't mind ownin' such a place myself. It's grand in the summer time,
and not so bad to look at even now through all this storm o' mist, hail,
and rain."

"Yes; I dare say," she said, shivering; "and if it was little better
than a hovel I'd be glad to reach it and get out of this chilling wind.
It penetrates to one's very bones."

She drew her cloak closer about her as she spoke, and as the hack turned
in at the avenue gates took up her satchel and umbrella in evident haste
to alight.

In the home-like parlour of the mansion they were approaching sat a
lovely-looking lady of mature years, a little group of children gathered
about her listening intently and with great interest to a story she was
telling them, while a sweet-faced young girl, sitting near with a bit of
tatting in her hands, seemed an equally interested hearer, ready to join
in the outburst of merriment that now and again greeted something in the
narrative.

"There is a hack coming up the avenue, Eva. Can we be going to have a
visitor this stormy day?" suddenly exclaimed the eldest boy, glancing
out of the window near where he stood. "Yes, it has come to a standstill
at the foot of the veranda steps, and the driver seems to be getting
ready to help someone out."

"A lady! Why, who can she be?" cried Eric, the next in age, as the hack
door was thrown open and the driver assisted his passenger to alight,
while Evelyn laid down her work and hastened into the hall to greet and
welcome the guest, whoever she might be; for the Fairview family, like
nearly every other in that region of country, was exceedingly
hospitable.

A servant had already opened the outer door and now another stepped
forward to take the lady's satchel and umbrella.

"Who can she be?" Evelyn asked herself as she hastily crossed the
veranda and held out a welcoming hand with a word or two of pleasant
greeting.

"Is it you, Evelyn?" asked the stranger in tones that trembled with
emotion. "And do you not know me--your own mother!"

"Mother; oh, mother, can it be you?" cried Evelyn, catching the stranger
in her arms and holding her fast with sobs and tears and kisses. "I had
not heard from you for so long, and have been feeling as if I should
never see you again. And oh, how thin and weak you look! You are sick,
mother!" she added in tones of grief and anxiety, as she drew her into
the hall, where by this time the rest of the family--Grandma Elsie, and
Mr. and Mrs. Leland and their children--were gathered.

"Sister Laura! is it possible! Welcome to Fairview," was Mrs. Leland's
greeting, accompanied by a warm embrace.

"Laura! we did not even know you were in America!" Mr. Leland said,
grasping her hand in brotherly fashion. "And how weary and ill you are
looking! Let me help you off with your bonnet and cloak and to a couch
here in the parlour."

"Thank you; yes, I'll be very glad to lie down, for I'm worn out with my
journey and this troublesome cough," she said, struggling with a renewed
paroxysm and gasping for breath. "But my luggage and----"

"We'll attend to all that," he said, half carrying her to the couch
where his wife and her mother were arranging the pillows for her
comfort, and laying her gently down upon it.

"Oh, mother; my poor dear mother!" sighed Evelyn, as she leaned over
her, smoothing her hair with caressing hand, "it breaks my heart to see
you looking so weary and ill. But we will soon nurse you back to health
and strength--uncle and aunt and I."

"I hope so, indeed," Mrs. Leland said in her sweet, gentle tones. "You
have had most unpleasant weather for your journey, Laura, so that it is
not to be wondered at that you are exhausted. You must have some
refreshment at once," and with the last word she hastened away in search
of it.

"And here is something to relieve that dreadful cough," said Mrs.
Travilla, presenting herself with a delicate china cup in her hand.

Evelyn introduced the two ladies, and her mother, being assured that the
cup contained nothing unpleasant to the taste, quickly swallowed its
contents, then lay back quietly upon her pillows, still keeping fast
hold of her daughter's hand, while Grandma Elsie, giving the cup to a
servant to carry away, resumed her easy chair on the farther side of the
room--near enough to be ready to render assistance should it be needed,
yet not so near as to interfere with any private talk between the long
separated mother and daughter--and her grandchildren again gathered
about her. But they seemed awed into silence by the presence of the
stranger invalid, whom they gazed upon with pitying curiosity, while her
attention seemed equally occupied with them.

"Your uncle's children?" she asked of Evelyn in a tone scarcely louder
than a whisper.

"Yes, mamma. Edward, the eldest, you saw when he was a mere baby boy.
Eric, the next, is papa's namesake. The eldest of the little girls--she
is in her fifth year--is Elsie Alicia, named for her two grandmothers;
we call her Alie. And the youngest--that two-year-old darling--we call
Vi. She is named for her aunt, Mrs. Raymond."

"And Mrs. Travilla lives here with her daughter?"

"No; she is paying a visit of a few days, as she often does since her
daughter-in-law, Aunt Zoe, has undertaken the most of the housekeeping
at Ion."

"She certainly looks very young to be mother and grandmother to so
many," sighed the invalid, catching sight of her own sallow, prematurely
wrinkled face reflected in a large mirror on the opposite side of the
room. "But she has had an easy life, surrounded by kind, affectionate,
sympathising friends, while I--miserable woman that I am--have been
worried, brow-beaten, robbed, till nothing is left me but ill-health and
grinding poverty."

"Mother, mother dear, don't talk so while I am left you and have enough
to keep us both, with care and economy," entreated Evelyn in a voice
half choked with sobs. "It will be joy to me to share with you and do
all I can to make your last days comfortable and happy."

"Then you haven't lost all your love for your mother in our years of
separation?"

"No, no indeed!" answered Evelyn earnestly. But there the conversation
ended for the time, Mrs. Leland returning with the promised refreshment.
It seemed to give some strength to the invalid, and after taking it she
was, by her own request, assisted to her room, an apartment opening into
that of her daughter, with whose good help she was soon made ready for
her bed, the most comfortable she had lain upon for weeks or months, she
remarked, as she stretched her tired limbs upon it.

"I am very glad you find it so, mother dear," said Evelyn. "And now, if
you like, I will unpack your trunks and arrange their contents in
wardrobe, bureau drawers, and closet."

"There is no hurry about that, and isn't that your supper bell I hear?"

"Yes'm, suppah's on de table, an' I's come to set yere and 'tend to you
uns while Miss Eva gwine eat wif de res' of de folks," said a neatly
dressed, pleasant-faced, elderly coloured woman, who had entered the
room just in time to hear the query in regard to the bell. "But, missus,
Miss Elsie she tole me for to ax you could you take somethin' mo'?"

"She says Aunt Elsie wants to know could you eat something more, mother
dear?" explained Eva, seeing a puzzled look on her mother's face.

"Oh, no! that excellent broth fully satisfied my appetite," replied
Laura. "Go and get your supper, Eva, child, but come back when you have
finished; for we have been so long separated that now I can hardly bear
to have you out of my sight."

"Oh, mother, how sweet to hear you say that!" exclaimed Evelyn, bending
down to bestow another ardent caress upon her newly restored parent.
"Indeed, I shall not stay away a moment longer than necessary."

The new arrival and her sad condition were the principal topics of
conversation at the table.

"I am so glad we have such a good doctor in Cousin Arthur," said Evelyn.
"I hope he can cure mamma's cough. I wish the weather was such that we
could reasonably ask him to come and see her to-night," she added with a
sigh.

"Yes," said her uncle, "but as it is so bad I think we will just give
him a full account of her symptoms and ask his advice through the
telephone. Then he will tell us what would better be done to-night, and
call in to see her to-morrow morning."

The ladies all agreed that that would be the better plan and it was
presently carried out. The doctor would have come at once, in spite of
the storm, had it seemed necessary, but from the account given he deemed
it not so.

"I will come directly after breakfast to-morrow morning," he concluded,
after giving his advice in regard to what should be done immediately.

"That is satisfactory; and now I will go at once to mamma and carry out
his directions for to-night," said Evelyn.

"Remembering that we are all ready to assist in any and every possible
way," added her uncle, smiling kindly upon her.

"Yes, indeed!" said Grandma Elsie; "and you must not hesitate to call
upon me if you need help."

"No, no, mother dear. I put my veto upon that!" exclaimed Mrs. Leland.
"You are not a really old-looking woman yet, but are not as vigorous as
you were some years ago, and I cannot afford to let you run any risk of
diminishing your stock of health and strength by loss of sleep or
over-exertion. Call upon me, Eva, should you need any assistance."

"Very well, daughter, I shall not insist upon the privilege of losing
sleep," returned Grandma Elsie with a smile, "but may perhaps be
permitted to make myself slightly useful during the day."

"Yes, slightly, mother dear, and at such time as you would not be
otherwise improving by taking needed rest or recreation," Mrs. Leland
replied as she hastened away with Eva, with the purpose to make sure
that her newly arrived guest lacked for nothing which she could provide.

"At last, Evelyn, child! I suppose you have not been long gone, but it
seemed so to my impatience," was Laura's salutation as Eva reentered her
room.

"It is sweet to hear you say that, mother dear; sweet to know that you
love me so," Evelyn said in moved tones, bending down to press a kiss on
the wan cheek, "and I mean to fairly surfeit you with my company in the
days and weeks that lie before us."

"And she only waited with the rest of us to consult our good doctor for
you, Laura," added Mrs. Leland. "He has prescribed a sleeping potion for
to-night, and will call to see you and prescribe further in the
morning."

"I think I should have been consulted," returned the invalid in a tone
of irritation; "my money is all gone and he may never get his pay."

"Oh, don't trouble about that!" exclaimed Mrs. Leland and Evelyn in a
breath, the former adding, "His charges are not heavy and it will be
strange indeed if we cannot find a way to meet and defray them."

"Of course we can and will, and you are not to concern yourself any more
about it, mamma," added Evelyn in a tone of playful authority. "What
would be the use when you have a tolerably rich, grown-up daughter,
whose principal business and pleasure it will be to take care of and
provide for her long-lost, but now happily recovered mother. And here
comes uncle with your sleeping potion," she added, as Mr. Leland at that
moment appeared in the doorway, cup in hand.

"Here is something which I hope will quiet your cough, Laura," he said,
coming to the bedside. "It is not bad to take, either, and will be
likely to secure you a good night's rest."

"I don't know," she returned doubtfully, eyeing the cup with evident
disfavour, "I was never good at dosing."

"You prefer lying awake, racked with that distressing cough?"

"No," she sighed, taking the cup from his hand, "even quite a bad dose
would be better than that. And it was not so bad after all," she
concluded as she returned the cup, after swallowing its contents.

"Glad to hear you say so," he said in reply. "And now take my further
advice--lie still and go to sleep, leaving all the talk with Eva till
to-morrow. Good-night to you both." And he left the room, followed
presently by his wife, who lingered only until she had made sure that
all the wants of the invalid were fully supplied.

Laura had already fallen into a sweet sleep, under the soothing
influence of the draught, and Eva presently stretched herself beside
her, and with a heart filled with contending emotions--love for this her
only remaining parent, joy in their reunion, sorrow and care in view of
her evident exhaustion and ill-health, and plans for making her
remaining days happy--lay awake for a time silently asking for guidance
and help from on high, then fell into dreamless, refreshing sleep.

CHAPTER II.

Morning found the invalid somewhat refreshed by her night's rest, yet
too languid and feeble to leave her room, and her day was spent
reclining upon a couch, with her daughter by her side. Dr. Conly made an
early call, prescribed, talked to her and Eva in a cheerful strain,
saying he hoped that rest and a change of weather would soon bring her
at least a measure of relief and strength; but in reply to the anxious
questioning of Mr. and Mrs. Leland, he acknowledged that he found her
far gone in consumption, and did not think she could last many weeks.

"Poor dear Eva! how very sad it will be for her to lose her mother so
soon after recovering her!" sighed Mrs. Leland. "I think we must let her
remain in ignorance of the danger for a time at least."

"Yes," assented her husband; "though we must not neglect any effort in
our power to prepare Laura for the great change which awaits her," he
added with a look of anxiety and care.

"Nor fail to offer up earnest petitions for her at the Throne of Grace,"
said Grandma Elsie, in her low, sweet tones. "Oh, what a blessing, what
a comfort it is that we may take there all our fears, cares, and
anxieties for ourselves and others! And how precious the Saviour's
promise, 'If two of you shall agree on earth as touching anything that
you shall ask, it shall be done for you of my Father which is in
heaven'!"

"Yes, mother dear," assented Mrs. Leland, "and we will claim and plead
it for our poor dear Laura, and for Eva, that she may be sustained under
the bereavement which awaits her."

"Yes," said Dr. Conly, "and there are many of our friends who will be
ready to join us in the petition. I am going now to Woodburn--the
captain having telephoned me that one of the servants is ill--and we all
know that he and his will be full of sympathy for Eva and her sick
mother."

"No doubt they will," said Grandma Elsie, "both as Christians and as
warm friends of Evelyn. And it will be quite the same with our other
friends."

With that the doctor bade good-morning and took his departure in the
direction of Woodburn. The family there were surprised and interested by
the news he had to tell of the arrival at Fairview, and of Laura's
feeble and ailing condition. They were evidently full of sympathy for
both mother and daughter, and had any help been needed would have given
it gladly. But the doctor assured them that rest and quiet were at
present the sick one's most pressing need.

"Poor dear Eva! I am so sorry for her!" sighed Lucilla when the doctor
had gone. "Papa, don't you think I might make myself of use helping her
with the nursing?"

"Not at present, daughter; though I can testify to your ability in that
line, and your services may possibly be needed at some future time," he
answered with an affectionate look and smile.

"Yes, Lu is a capital nurse, I think," said Violet, "but whatever she
does is sure to be well done."

"Thank you, Mamma Vi," returned the young girl, blushing with pleasure;
"it is most kind in you to say that; but if I am thorough in anything,
most of the credit belongs to my father, who has never allowed me to
content myself with a slovenly performance of my duties."

"No," he said, "what is worth doing at all is worth doing well; that is
a lesson I have endeavoured to impress upon each one of my children, and
one which I think they have all learned pretty thoroughly."

"And they have always had the teaching of example as well as precept,
from their father," remarked Violet with a look of loving appreciation
up into his face; "so that it would be strange indeed if they had not
learned it."

"Indeed that is true, mamma," said Grace. "It does seem to me that papa
does everything he undertakes as thoroughly well as anyone possibly
could."

"A very good idea for one's children to cultivate," laughed the captain.
Then consulting his watch, "But it is high time we were in the
schoolroom, daughters. Elsie and Ned have been there this half hour, and
probably have a lesson or two ready to recite."

"And Eva will not be with us to-day; probably not for many more days,"
remarked Lucilla with a slight sigh of disappointment and regret, as she
and Grace rose and gave prompt obedience to her father's implied order.

"Yes," he said, "I fear so; but her first duty is to her mother."

So Evelyn herself felt, and nobly she discharged it; neglecting nothing
in her power for the relief and enjoyment of the invalid who, though
often fretful, exacting, and unreasonable, was yet nearest and dearest
to her of all earthly creatures. The young girl's loving patience seemed
never to fail, and her heart was continually going up in earnest, silent
petitions that her beloved parent might be made meet for the inheritance
of the saints in light; that she might learn to love Him who had died to
redeem her from death and the power of the grave, and to give her an
abundant entrance into his kingdom and glory.

The doubt of Laura's preparation for death and eternity, amounting to
almost certainty that it was lacking, made this nursing an even sadder
one than had been that of Eric, Evelyn's father, years ago. To him talk
of things heavenly and divine had ever seemed easy and natural, and with
the certainty that he was passing away from earth came the full
assurance that he was ready to depart and be with Christ in glory.

But Laura hastily repelled the slightest allusion to eternity and a
preparation for it. Evelyn's only consolation was in the knowledge that
others were uniting their earnest petitions with hers, and that God is
the hearer and answerer of prayer.

It was Grandma Elsie who at length succeeded in speaking a word in
season to the dying woman.

"Oh, this racking cough! Shall I never be done with it?" gasped Laura,
as she lay panting upon her pillow after an unusually severe and
exhausting paroxysm.

"Yes; when you reach the other side of Jordan; for there in that blessed
land the inhabitant shall not say 'I am sick,'" returned Grandma Elsie
in low, sympathising tones. "The Bible tells us that 'God shall wipe
away all tears from their eyes; and there shall be no more death,
neither sorrow nor crying, neither shall there be any more pain.'"

"Oh, but I am not fit for that place yet!" exclaimed Laura with a look
of alarm, "and I don't want to die for years to come, though it is hard
to suffer as I do. You don't think I'm a dying woman, Mrs. Travilla?"

"You know, dear friend, that no one of us is certain of life for a day
or an hour," returned Grandma Elsie gently, taking the wasted hand in
hers and gazing tenderly into the anxious, troubled face, "and surely it
is the part of wisdom to make careful preparation for that which we must
inevitably meet, sooner or later. And if our peace is made with God--if
Jesus is our Friend and Saviour--it will only be joy unspeakable to be
called into his immediate presence, there to dwell forevermore."

"Yes, yes, if one is fitted for it, as Eric, Eva's father, was. Death
seemed only joy to him, except for leaving us. But oh, I am afraid of
death! Hard as life is in my weak, ailing condition, I don't want to
die, I can't bear to think of it."

"My poor friend, my heart bleeds for you," said Grandma Elsie in low,
tender tones. "'The sting of death is sin and the strength of sin is the
law.' But 'Christ is the end of the law for righteousness to everyone
that believeth.' He fulfilled its conditions, he bore the penalty God's
justice required against those who had broken it; and now salvation is
offered as his free gift to all who will accept it: 'Even the
righteousness of God which is by faith of Jesus Christ unto all and upon
all them that believe: for there is no difference: For all have sinned,
and come short of the glory of God; Being justified freely by his grace
through the redemption that is in Christ Jesus: Whom God hath set forth
to be a propitiation through faith in his blood, to declare his
righteousness for the remission of sins that are past, through the
forbearance of God; To declare, I say, at this time his righteousness:
that he might be just and the justifier of him which believeth in
Jesus.'"

"Is that all? only to believe in Jesus?" Laura asked with a look of
mingled anxiety, hope, and fear. "But one must repent deeply, sincerely,
and oh, I'm afraid I cannot!"

"He will help you," returned Grandma Elsie in moved tones. "'Him hath
God exalted with his right hand to be a Prince and a Saviour, for to
give repentance to Israel, and forgiveness of sins.' Ask him,
remembering his own gracious promise, 'Ask and it shall be given you;
seek and ye shall find; knock and it shall be opened unto you. For
everyone that asketh receiveth; and he that seeketh findeth; and to him
that knocketh it shall be opened.'"

"Ah, I see the way as I never did before," said Laura, after a moment's
silence in which she seemed in deep thought. "What wonderful love and
condescension it was for him, the God-man, to die that painful and
shameful death that we--sinful worms of the dust--might live! Oh, I do
begin to love him and to hate and abhor my sins that helped nail him to
the tree." With the last words tears coursed down her cheeks. "I want to
be his, whether I live or die," she added; and from that hour a great
change came over her; her sufferings were borne with patience and
resignation; and when the end came she passed peacefully and quietly
away, leaving her bereaved daughter mourning the separation, but not as
those without hope of a blessed reunion at some future day, in that land
where sin and sorrow, sickness and pain are unknown.

CHAPTER III.

Through all the six long weeks of her mother's illness at Fairview
Evelyn had been a most devoted, tender nurse, scarcely leaving the sick
room for an hour by day or by night. She bore up wonderfully until all
was over and the worn-out body laid to rest in the quiet grave; but then
came the reaction; strength and energy seemed suddenly to forsake her,
and thin, pale, sad, and heavy-eyed, she was but the shadow of her
former self.

Change of air and scene was the doctor's prescription. She was very
reluctant to leave home and friends for a sojourn in new scenes and
among strangers, but receiving an urgent invitation from Captain and
Mrs. Raymond to spend some weeks at Woodburn with her loved friend
Lucilla, and finding that her uncle and aunt--Dr. Conly also--highly
approved, she gladly accepted; all the more so because she had learned
that Grandma Elsie too, whom she loved even better than ever for her
kindness to the dear departed, was about to spend some days or weeks
with her daughter Violet. That was an added attraction to what Evelyn
esteemed one of the most delightful places, and inhabited by the
dearest, kindest, most lovable people anywhere to be found.

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