Mildred at Home: With Something About Her Relatives and Friends.

Chapter Tenth.
ELSIE AND HER BROTHER

"Horace, bring papa that newspaper that lies on the table yonder," Mr. Dinsmore said to his little son.

The child, seated in his own little chair by his mother's side, was listlessly turning the leaves of a picture-book. Elsie had just finished her recitations for the morning, and was now sitting on the other side of Rose, taking a lesson in fancy-work.

Mr. Dinsmore had spoken in a pleasant tone, rather of request than command, yet Horace, though usually ready to obey promptly and cheerfully, sat perfectly still, as if he had not heard, or did not choose to heed.

"Horace, do you hear me? Go and bring me that paper," said his father; and this time the tone was one of stern command.

The child's face instantly assumed a stubborn, sullen expression, while he neither moved nor answered.

Elsie, pale and trembling with apprehension, gave him an entreating, her father an imploring look, which neither seemed to see.

Mr. Dinsmore was regarding his son with a look of stern displeasure, and Horace's eyes were on his book.

"Horace, dear, do as papa bids you," said Rose, with gentle entreaty.

"Leave him to me, Rose," said her husband; "I have given the order, and I am the one to enforce it. Horace, obey me instantly or I shall whip you till you do."

At that stern sentence Elsie almost cried out in fear and dismay, for well she knew her father's indomitable will, and she could perceive that Horace, whom she so dearly loved, that to see him suffer pain was far worse than to have it inflicted upon herself, was just now in a most stubborn, refractory mood.

Probably the state of the atmosphere had something to do with it, for it was a rainy day, close and sultry.

"Me don't want to," muttered the little fellow, making no movement to obey; then as he felt a not very gentle grasp upon his arm, "Me won't!" he cried, with a defiant look upon his father's face.

Mr. Dinsmore instantly administered a pretty severe chastisement, Rose sitting by pale and sad, Elsie with the tears streaming over her cheeks.

Horace cried violently, but still refused obedience to the reiterated command, "Go and get that paper and bring it to me."

The punishment was repeated with added severity, but he stubbornly persisted in his refusal, and the battle went on till his mother, unable to endure the sight, rose and left the room, and Elsie so far forgot herself in her darling little brother's pain that she ran to the rescue, threw her arms about him, and tried to drag him away from her father.

"Oh, papa, don't!" she sobbed; "please don't whip him any more! I cannot bear it."

"Elsie! how dare you!" Mr. Dinsmore exclaimed, in astonishment and wrath, putting her forcibly aside as he spoke. "Leave the room instantly," he added, in his sternest tones and with a stamp of his foot.

She let go her hold of the child, but, lingering, began again her entreaty, "Oh, papa, please – "

"Will you compel me to punish you in the same way?" he said, again stamping his foot and pointing significantly to the door.

At that she hastened from the room and sought her own, crying as if her heart would break.

Horace yielded at last, when nearly exhausted with the conflict, received a kiss of reconciliation from his father, was then carried to his mother, and wept himself to sleep in her arms, her tears falling almost as fast as his.

She had laid him in his crib and was bending over him, tenderly smoothing back the damp curls from his heated brow, when her husband came softly to her side, and, putting his arm about her waist, asked in low, moved tones, "Do you blame me, my Rose? Do you think me a cruel father?"

She did not answer for a moment, but seemed struggling with emotion.

He sighed deeply.

"I – I think you were conscientious in it all," she said at length, her voice tremulous with feeling, "and that after beginning the conflict it was necessary for you to conquer; but I think the beginning it was a sad mistake."

"How do you mean? What would you have had me do when my child refused to obey a command so simple and easy to understand and do?"

"My husband," she said, allowing him to lead her to a sofa, where they sat down side by side, "I do not like to seem to try to teach you who are so much older and wiser than I; but do you not think you would have spared yourself and all of us a great deal of pain if instead of compelling obedience you had simply punished refusal to obey, and there let the matter rest?"

"Would it have gone as far toward securing obedience in the future?" he queried, rather as if considering the question himself than asking her opinion.

"I think so," she said. "Surely a child will not be apt to disobey very often when he finds that swift punishment is always meted out in proportion to the magnitude of the offence."

He sat silently meditating for some little time, she anxiously watching the expression of his face.

At length, turning to her, "I believe you are right, my love," he said, "and I shall, if possible, avoid such conflicts in the future, as you advise, simply punishing the act of disobedience, or refusal to obey. To-day that course would, as you have suggested, have saved us all a great deal of suffering; and oh, what would it not have saved to Elsie and myself if put into practice years ago!" He sighed deeply as he added, "And the pain occasioned by this unfortunate conflict is not all over yet, for I have her to punish now."

"Elsie?" exclaimed Rose, looking at him in great surprise; "what has she done?"

He told her what had occurred just as she left the room where he was battling with Horace, adding, "I must, of course, punish her, for she was not only rebelling against my authority herself, but upholding her brother in doing the same."

"I suppose so," said Rose sadly, "but I wish you could feel it right and wise to forgive her."

"Not till I have inflicted some punishment," he said; "the offence was quite too serious to be lightly passed over."

"But you will not be severe with her?" Rose said pleadingly. "You know it was only her great love for her little brother that made her for a moment forgetful of her duty to you. And I am sure she is repenting bitterly now."

"I have no intention of inflicting corporal punishment, if that is what you apprehend," he said; "but I think I ought to make her aware, for a day or two at least, that she is in disgrace with me."

"I am so sorry," sighed Rose; "for though to some children that would be a very slight punishment, I know that to her it will be positively dreadful."

"Yes," he returned, echoing her sigh, "she is extravagantly fond of her father's caresses and endearments, but so is he of hers, and I doubt if the punishment will be more severe to the one than to the other of us."

"What's de mattah, chile? What's de mattah wid you an' little massa?" Aunt Chloe asked, with an anxious, troubled look, as Elsie rushed into her own apartments crying very bitterly.

Amid heavy sobbing and floods of tears the little girl related what had passed between her father and brother, winding up with the story of her interference and its result.

"Oh, darlin' chile, dat was bad!" exclaimed Chloe. "You shouldn't neber do no sich ting as dat! Dat be bery bad ting fo' little massa, what you been an' gone an' done. De Bible say chillens mus' min' dere fader and mudder."

Elsie made no reply, but throwing herself on a couch, half buried her face in a pillow in the effort to shut out the sound of Horace's cries, which penetrated even there.

Until they ceased she scarcely thought of anything but that he was being hurt; but when all grew quiet with the ending of the conflict, she was suddenly struck with the enormity of her offence and the dread certainty that her father was greatly and justly incensed at her unwarrantable interference between him and her brother.

She was astonished at her own temerity, and trembled at thought of the probable consequences. That some sort of punishment would be meted out to her she had not the slightest doubt, and as her father was wont to be prompt in action, she fully expected a visit from him as soon as he was done disciplining Horace.

She listened with a quaking heart for the sound of his approaching footsteps; but the minutes and the hours crept on and he came not.

The dinner-bell rang, and Elsie started up full of perplexity and alarm, doubting whether she was or was not expected to obey its summons.

"Oh, mammy," she cried, "I don't know what to do! I don't want to go to the table. Please go and ask papa if I may be excused. Tell him my head aches, for indeed it does, and I'm not at all hungry."

"Co'se, chile, co'se you's got misery in de head after all dat cryin'," replied Aunt Chloe, putting down her knitting to go and do the errand. "Don' cry no mo', honey; maybe massa forgib you, ef you's right down sorry."

"I am sorry, mammy," sobbed Elsie; "oh, I am very sorry; but I know that papa will punish me somehow or other, and I deserve it."

"Maybe not, honey," responded Aunt Chloe cheerfully, then hurried away to the dining-room.

She returned in a few minutes, bringing a very nice meal daintily arranged on a silver waiter.

"What did papa say?" asked Elsie anxiously.

"Not much, honey; only, 'Bery well, Aunt Chloe, you kin take her something when she feels inclined to eat.'"

Elsie's tears burst forth afresh. Was it then a matter of indifference to her father that she was in pain? her father, who was usually so full of loving anxiety at the slightest indication of anything being amiss with her?

"Oh, mammy," she sobbed, "what if papa shouldn't ever love me any more!"

"Ki, chile, dat a heap ob nonsense you's talkin' now!" laughed Chloe. "Massa couldn't neber help it; not a bit; you's jes' de light ob his eyes. Dere now, don' cry no mo', but jes' eat what your ole mammy fotch fo' you."

There was some slight and temporary comfort in the assurance her mammy expressed, and the little girl found herself able, by its help, to eat sparingly of the dainties she had brought her.

"Did papa say I must stay in my rooms till I got permission to leave them?" she asked.

"No, honey, darlin', he didn't say nuffin' 't all 'bout dat; didn't gib no corrections, but jes' 'bout gibin' you what you wants to eat when you's ready fo' it. Dat don' soun' so mighty bad fo' yo' case, chile, an' I respects mass'll be comin' in 'rectly fo' to kiss an' make up."

"No," Elsie said, shaking her head and bursting into tears again, "he'll punish me first; I am quite sure of that."

"Ki, chile! ef he gwine fo' to do dat, what you 'spose he waitin' fo'?"

"I don't know," sobbed the little girl; "but I'm afraid it will be a long while before he will pet and fondle me again, or even give me a kind look or word."

"Why you tink dat, honey?"

"Oh, because he looked so stern and angry when he stamped his foot at me and ordered me out of the room."

The afternoon passed very slowly in the constant yet vain expectation of a visit from her father or a summons to his presence. Several times she was on the point of venturing into it without being called, but her heart failed her; she was not sure that it might not be looked upon as an additional offence; he had sent her out of the room without saying how long he meant her banishment to last.

Besides, she wanted to be sure of seeing him alone; she would not have even Rose a witness of the interview.

So she waited till the hour when the latter would be engaged in seeing little Horace put to bed for the night, then in much trepidation went in search of her father. She felt quite sure of finding him alone, for there were no guests in the house, and as it was still storming, there seemed no danger of any one calling.

She went first to the parlor, which was their principal family room when alone. Yes, there he was, sitting in an easy-chair by a window, his back toward her, doubtless reading, and quite alone.

She stole noiselessly to the back of his chair, her heart beating very fast and loud. She almost thought he must hear it; but he seemed unaware of her approach, entirely absorbed in his book.

She caught hold of the chair-back to steady and support herself, for she was trembling in every limb.

"Papa, I – " she began, her voice full of tears.

"I have nothing to say to you, Miss Dinsmore, except that I forbid you to address me by that title or to call me father, or to take any liberties with me that would be unsuitable in a stranger guest in the house," he interrupted, in a freezing tone, without turning toward her, and with his eyes still upon his book.

"Oh, I can't bear it! I can't bear it!" she cried, with a burst of sobs and tears, throwing herself at his feet. "I know I've behaved very badly, but I'm – "

"Get up," he said sternly, again interrupting her; "control yourself, or leave the room till you can."

His look was as stern and cold as his words.

She struggled to her feet and went back to her own rooms, crying very bitterly.

"Oh, mammy, mammy," she sobbed, "it's even worse than I expected, for I'm forbidden to call him father or papa. Oh, what shall I do? How can I call him anything else? And I mustn't hug or kiss him or sit on his knee; and – and he called me 'Miss Dinsmore.' Just think of it! Not even Elsie, without the pet names I love so to hear from his lips, but Miss Dinsmore, as if I were a stranger he cared nothing about."

"'Tain't gwine to las' long, honey darlin', dat ar ain't," said Chloe soothingly, taking the weeper in her arms and caressing her tenderly; "you' jes' de light ob massa's eyes, like I tole you befo', an' de pet names be sho' to come again fo' long. 'Sides, you'll hab yo' ole seat on massa's knee, an' all de hugs and kisses you wants."

"I'm afraid not for a long while, mammy," sobbed the little girl. "I think papa has not been so displeased with me since that dreadful time, so long ago, when we lived at Roselands."

The tea-bell rang.

"Is you gwine to de table, darlin'?" Chloe asked.

"Oh no, no, mammy!" Elsie exclaimed, with a fresh burst of grief; "papa bade me leave the room till I could control myself, and I know I could not do that in his presence yet; oh, how can I ever be with him and not call him father or papa?"

As they sat down to the table Rose glanced at the vacant seat, then at her husband. "I fear the dear child is ill with grief and remorse, Horace," she said, with a troubled, anxious look; "she has such a tender conscience, and so dearly loves the father whose displeasure she has incurred."

"She is not ill; I saw her a few moments since," he answered, with a sigh. "She is distressed, I know, but it is the consequence of her own wrong-doing, and she must endure it for a time that she may learn never again to encourage her brother in resistance to lawful authority."

"Don't you think the lesson may be already learned?" Rose said pleadingly. "She has no stubbornness in her nature, but is very easily subdued and made penitent."

"I am not so sure of that; she comes of very stubborn stock, on one side at least," he replied, with a rather melancholy attempt at pleasantry.

"My dear husband, I wish you would forgive her," pleaded the young step-mother. "Surely you will before she goes to bed to-night?"

"Can you not be content to leave her to me, my Rose?" he asked. "Do you not know that I am a most doting father? that she is the very light of my eyes, and core of my heart? Ah, I sometimes fear she is her father's idol."

"No," Rose said, half-chokingly, and with tears in her eyes, "I am sure your conscience need not trouble you on that score so long as you can find it in your heart to be so severe with her faults."

"Not in my heart, love," he returned, a little hurt, "but in the settled conviction that I am acting for her good. It requires a strong effort of my will to resist the promptings of affection; love that urges me to send for her at once, tell her she is forgiven, and lavish the tenderest caresses upon her."

"That is just what I should rejoice to see you do," said Rose.

"To-morrow or next day perhaps you may," he answered, in a tone that seemed to imply that he wished to hear no more on the subject. And Rose, like the wise woman and affectionate wife that she was, dropped it, though her heart ached for Elsie.

After they had left the dining-room for the parlor, she asked if she might go to the little girl's apartments and see if she were feeling quite well.

"I really don't like to claim so much authority over my wife as to forbid her going where she will about my house, which is her own also," he said, with a slight smile, "but I should prefer to have the child left to herself for the present. I have not confined her to her rooms, and she can join us when she will. I only bade her leave my presence this afternoon till she could control herself; and she would understand from that that she was at liberty to return to it when ready to comply with the condition."

"How she will miss her good-night chat seated upon her father's knee; the good-night hug and kiss he has been wont to bestow upon her!" sighed Rose.

"Yes," he said, in a moved tone, rising and beginning to pace the room in a disturbed way, "she will hardly know what to do without them; nor shall I; but we must. Don't make any further efforts to shake my resolve, Rose, for I cannot, must not, pass lightly over so serious a misdemeanor as she has been guilty of in this instance."

Rose could but comply with his wishes, so plainly and strongly expressed, and Elsie passed the evening alone, except for the companionship of her nurse; for she dared not trust herself again in her father's presence till she could hope to be able to maintain the self-control he required.

As her hour for retiring drew near, Aunt Chloe noted how she was listening for approaching footsteps, at the same time glancing frequently at her watch or the clock on the mantel.

"Sho, honey, you's gwine to de parlor to say good-night fo' you goes to bed?" she remarked inquiringly.

Elsie shook her head, the tears rolling down her cheeks. "How can I, mammy, when I mustn't say father or papa?" she sobbed. "I couldn't without crying, if at all; and papa forbade me his presence till I could control myself. There, my bedtime has come, and papa hasn't. Oh, I could hardly help hoping he did not mean to let me go to bed unforgiven. There's never been a night before since – since those dreadful days at Roselands, that I've gone without his kiss, or without being held close to his heart with tender, loving words as if I were the dearest thing to him in all the world."

"Don't you go for to fret yo' po' heart out, blessed chile," Chloe said, taking her nursling in her kind arms. "Yo' ole mammy lubs you like her life; so does yo' pa too; an' maybe he's gwine come in hyah 'bout de time you's ready fo' bed, to kiss an' make up ef you promises neber to do so no mo' as you been an' gone an' done dis hyah mornin'."

"Oh no, never, never!" Elsie sobbed, hiding her face for a moment on Aunt Chloe's shoulder. "I don't know how I ever dared to do it! I deserve to be punished very severely; no wonder papa is so displeased with me."

She was soon in bed, but did not, as usual with her, fall asleep at once; she lay for a good while listening to every sound, hoping even against hope that her father would relent and come to give her his forgiveness and a loving kiss ere she slept; but he did not, and at length she cried herself to sleep. It was the same thing over again in the morning; she hoped he would come to her to inquire of her penitence and good resolutions for the future, or send for her to go to him; but she waited and wished in vain, breakfasted in her own rooms – still too distrustful of her power of self-control to venture to join her parents in the breakfast-room – then prepared her task for the day; yet could not find courage to carry them to her father that he might hear her recitations.

She was glad the weather continued such as to keep visitors away; she hoped none would come till this trouble of hers was over; for how could she bear to have any one out of the family – even good, kind Mr. Travilla – know that she had so displeased her father? And while his displeasure lasted, how impossible it would be for any guest to fail to perceive it.

She tried one employment after an other – needlework, reading, music – but found no interest in any of them, and every now and then she would give way to a fit of violent weeping.

"Oh," she said to herself, "how long is it to last? Papa did not say, and I don't know when he will think I have been punished enough."

So the day wore wearily away, and night came again without any change for the better.

Sadly mourning over her estrangement from her father, and longing inexpressibly for his forgiveness and loving favor, a thought struck her.

"Ah, yes," she said half aloud, "I will write to papa the confession and plea for pardon he would not let me speak."

Opening her writing-desk, she selected a sheet of paper, took up her pen and dipped it in the ink; but, alas, how should she begin her note? By what title address the father who had forbidden her to call him that? How impossible to call him anything else! How disrespectful, how impertinent to omit a title altogether!

She laid down her pen, pushed the paper aside, and covering her face with her hands, wept long and bitterly, Chloe watching her with tear-dimmed eyes.

"Precious chile," she said at length, "what kin yo' ole mammy do fo' her pet?"

"Nothing, mammy, unless you could persuade my father to forgive and love me again."

"Po' dear, he'll do dat befo' long; I'se pow'ful sure ob dat. Massa so fond ob you he kaint hole out much longer hisself. Was you gwine write sumfin' to massa, honey?"

"Yes, but I can't, because he forbade me to call him father or papa, and – and oh, I don't know how to call him anything else. Oh, mammy, I don't believe I can sleep at all to-night without his forgiveness!"

"Den 'spose my chile go an' ax massa fo' it."

"No, I dare not, because he forbade me to take any greater liberty with him than a stranger guest might, or to come into his presence till I could be calm; and I know I could not yet."

"Den yo' ole mammy gwine fo' you; an' dis am de bes' time, kase I s'pect massa by hisself in de parlor," she said, rising and leaving the room.

As she had expected, she found Mr. Dinsmore alone in the parlor. Dropping a courtesy, she stood before him with folded hands, waiting in respectful silence for an invitation to speak.

"Well, Aunt Chloe, what is it?" he asked.

"Massa, my chile frettin' herself sick."

"She must not do that," he said, with a touch of sternness in his tone.

"Please, sah, s'pose my chile kaint help it?"

"She must help it. Tell her I say so."

"Oh, massa, ain't you gwine forgib my chile? She am mighty sorry she been an' gone an' done such t'ing; she ain't neber gwine do de like ob dat no mo'."

"I trust not," he said; "I shall have to be very severe with her if she does. No, I am not ready to forgive her yet. Such conduct as she has been guilty of cannot be passed over with a trifling punishment. She must be made to realize that her offence is a very serious one."

A wave of his hand with the last word gave Chloe to understand that the interview was at an end.

Elsie's heart beat high betwixt hope and fear as she sat waiting and listening for Chloe's returning footsteps, and for her father's, which might perhaps accompany or precede them.

"Oh, mammy, what did he say? will he forgive me? may I go to him now and call him papa?" she asked, half-breathlessly and with an eager, longing look, as her nurse came in. Then reading the answer in Chloe's sad and troubled countenance, she dropped her face into her hands and sobbed aloud.

"Don't, chile; don't, honey darlin'; I'se sho it all come right befo' long," Chloe said tenderly, laying her hand caressingly on the drooping head. "But massa he say you mus' stop dis frettin' an' cryin'. I tole him s'pose you couldn't, but he say bery sternly, 'She must.' Kin you do it, darlin'?"

"I'll try; I must obey my father," she sighed, and lifting her head, wiped away her tears, and by a strong and determined effort stopped their flow and suppressed her sobs.

It was now time for her preparations for bed. She went through them in silence, tears now and again gathering in her eyes, but none suffered to fall.

"Papa must be obeyed," she kept repeating to herself.

She maintained her self-control for some time after laying her head upon her pillow, but sleep did not visit it, and as she lay there turning restlessly from side to side, mental distress again so overcame her that ere she was aware of it she was wetting her pillow with floods of tears and sobbing aloud.

It was now Mr. Dinsmore's own hour for retiring, and he was in his room, the door of communication with his little daughter's bedroom open as usual, so that the sound of her weeping came very distinctly to his ear.

The next moment Elsie felt herself lifted from the bed and set upon her feet; then her hand was taken in a close clasp and she led into the adjoining room, her own dressing-room.

Here the moon shone brightly in at a window, in front of which stood an easy-chair. Toward that her father led her, and seating himself therein was about to draw her to his knee; but she fell at his feet sobbing, "Pa – oh, I can't help forgetting and calling you that, or crying because you are angry with me; but I don't want to be disobedient, and I'm so, so sorry for all my naughtiness. Please, please forgive me; please let me call you father, or my heart will break!"

"You may. I remove the prohibition," he said, in a moved tone, lifting her up and drawing her to his breast; "and if you are indeed very penitent on account of your very bad behavior yesterday, and promise never to do such a thing again, I will forgive and receive you back into favor."

"Dear father, thank you," she sobbed, clinging about his neck. "I think I was never so sorry in all my life, and I am quite resolved never, never to do such a thing again; I am astonished at myself to think I ever dared to do it."

"So am I," he said; "and I am afraid you are hardly yet fully sensible of the enormity of your offence. I want you to reflect that in that act you were not only guilty of high-handed rebellion yourself, but were encouraging and upholding your brother in the same. Do you wonder that I have felt it my painful duty to punish you with some severity?"

"No, papa," she answered humbly, "I feel that I have deserved it all, and a great deal more. I wonder you didn't whip me too then and there, that Horace might see how very naughty you considered my interference, and that I must obey just the same as he."

"I probably should have done just that had you been a little younger," he said, "and I am not altogether sure that I ought to have suffered you to escape as it was. You may be very sure," he added gravely and with some sternness of tone, "that you will not, if the offence is ever repeated."

"Oh, it shall not be, papa, it never, never shall!" she exclaimed, holding up her face for a kiss, which he gave very heartily.

"To make sure of that, if you see such a conflict beginning (though I trust there will be no more of them), leave the room at once," he said.

They were silent for a moment, she with her head laid on his breast, her arm about his neck, while he held her close, softly smoothing the curls back from her brow with the free hand, and gazing down tenderly into the little pale face with its tear-swollen eyes.

"My poor darling, you have had a sad time of it," he remarked presently. "You have been crying a great deal, I see."

At that her face flushed painfully, and her lip quivered. "Please, papa, don't be angry," she said in tremulous tones. "I tried to stop as soon as you sent me word that I must. I didn't shed any more tears till after I got into bed; but then I was so, so hungry for my good-night kiss that they would come in spite of all I could do."

"Don't be afraid," he said; "I have forgiven all your offences, and this is the seal," kissing her fondly several times.

"Dear papa, thank you. Oh, how dearly I do love you! how sweet your caresses are to me!" she exclaimed. Then after a moment's silence, "Are mamma and Horace quite well, papa?" she asked.

"Yes; both would have been in to see you if their plans had met my approval. Horace was much concerned when I explained to him that because his sister was so very naughty as to try to take him away from me when I was punishing him for being stubborn and disobedient, she had to be punished too; and for that reason he could not see her."

"I am very much ashamed of having set him so bad an example, papa," she said with a sob, and blushing deeply.

"It was to neutralize that example, not to mortify you, that I deemed it necessary to tell him. Now, my love, my darling, it is high time you were in bed and asleep," he added, repeating his caresses; then setting her on her feet again, he led her back to her bed, laid her in it, and with a fatherly blessing and a kiss on lip and cheek and forehead, left her to her slumbers.

At first she seemed too full of joy and thankfulness to close an eye; yet ere she was aware of it the happy waking thoughts had merged themselves in blissful dreams.