MARTHA FINLEY Ultimate Collection – 35+ Novels in One Volume (Including The Complete Elsie Dinsmore Series & Mildred Keith Collection). Finley Martha

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СКАЧАТЬ but you may help yourself if you choose," she said, laughing and blushing, for she knew very well what he meant.

      He stooped and snatched a kiss from her ruby lips, then walked away sighing softly to himself, "Ah, little Elsie, if I were but ten years younger!"

      She tripped across the lawn, and entering the open door of her boudoir, found herself in her father's arms. He had witnessed the little scene just enacted between Mr. Travilla and herself, had noticed something in his friend's look and manner that had never struck him before. He folded his child close to his heart for an instant then held her off a little, gazing fondly into her face.

      "You are mine; you belong to me; no other earthly creature has the least shadow of a right or title in you; do you know that?"

      "Yes, papa, and rejoice to know it," she murmured, putting her arms about his neck and laying her head against his breast.

      "Ah!" he said, sighing, "you will not always be able to say that, I fear. One of these days you will—" He broke off abruptly, without finishing his sentence.

      She looked up inquiringly into his face.

      He answered her look with a smile and a tender caress. "I had better not put the nonsense into your head: it will get there soon enough without my help. Come now, let us have the lessons. I expect to find them well prepared, as usual."

      "I hope so, papa," she answered, bringing her books and seating herself on a stool at his feet, he having taken possession of an easy-chair.

      The recitations seemed a source of keen enjoyment to both; the one loving to impart, and the other to receive, knowledge.

      Mr. Dinsmore gave the deserved meed of warm praise for the faithful preparation of each allotted task, prescribed those for the coming day, and the books were laid aside.

      "Come here, daughter," he said, as she closed her desk upon them, "I have something to say to you."

      "What is it, papa?" she asked, seating herself upon his knee. "How very grave you look." But there was not a touch of the old fear in her face or voice, as there had been none in his of the old sternness.

      "Yes, for I am about to speak of a serious matter," he answered, gently smoothing back the clustering curls from her fair brow, while he looked earnestly into the soft brown eyes. "You have not been lending money to Arthur, Elsie?"

      The abrupt, unexpected question startled her, and a crimson tide rushed over her face and neck; but she returned her father's gaze steadily: "No, papa; how could you think I would disobey so?"

      "I did not, darling, and yet I felt that I must ask the question and repeat my warning, my command to you—never to do so without my knowledge and consent. Your grandfather and I are much troubled about the boy."

      "I am so sorry, papa; I hope he has not been doing anything very bad."

      "He seems to have sufficient cunning to hide many of his evil deeds," Mr. Dinsmore said, with a sigh; "yet enough has come to light to convince us that he is very likely to become a shame and disgrace to his family. We know that he is profane, and to some extent, at least, intemperate and a gambler. A sad, sad beginning for a boy of seventeen. And to furnish him with money, Elsie, would be only to assist him in his downward course."

      "Yes, papa, I see that. Poor grandpa, I'm so sorry for him! But, papa, God can change Arthur's heart, and make him all we could wish."

      "Yes, daughter, and we will agree together to ask Him to do this great work, so impossible to any human power; shall we not?"

      "Yes, papa." They were silent a moment; then she turned to him again, told of Lucy Carrington's call and its object, and asked if she might accept the invitation.

      He considered a moment. "Yes," he said kindly, "you may if you wish. You quite deserve a holiday, and I think perhaps would really be the better of a week's rest from study. Go and enjoy yourself as much as you can, my darling."

      "Thank you, you dearest, kindest, and best of papas," she said, giving him a hug and kiss. "But I think you look a little bit sorry. You would rather I should stay at home, if I could content myself to do so, and it would be a strange thing if I could not."

      "No, my pet, I shall miss you, I know; the house always seems lonely without you; but I can spare you for a week, and would rather have you go, because I think the change will do you good. Besides, I am willing to lend my treasure for a few days to our friends at Ashlands. I would gladly do more than that, if I could, for that poor suffering Herbert."

      Chapter VII

       Table of Contents

      How many pleasant faces shed their light on every side.

      —TUPPER.

      "Remember it is for only one week; you must be back again next Wednesday by ten o'clock; I can't spare you an hour longer," Mr. Dinsmore said, as the next morning, shortly after breakfast, he assisted his daughter to mount her pony.

      "Ten o'clock at night, papa?" asked Elsie in a gay, jesting tone, as she settled herself in the saddle, and took a little gold-mounted riding whip from his hand.

      "No, ten A.M., precisely."

      "But what if it should be storming, sir?"

      "Then come as soon as the storm is over."

      "Yes, sir; and may I come sooner if I get homesick?"

      "Just as soon as you please. Now, good-bye, my darling. Don't go into any danger. I know I need not remind you to do nothing your father would disapprove."

      "I hope not, papa," she said, with a loving look into the eyes that were gazing so fondly upon her. Then kissing her hand to him and her mamma and little Horace, who stood on the veranda to see her off, she turned her horse's head and cantered merrily away, taking the road to Ashlands on passing out at the gate.

      It was a bright, breezy morning, and her heart felt so light and gay that a snatch of glad song rose to her lips. She warbled a few bird-like notes, then fell to humming softly to herself.

      At a little distance down the road a light wagon was rumbling along, driven by one of the man-servants from the Oaks, and carrying Aunt Chloe and her young mistress' trunks.

      "Come, Jim," said Elsie, glancing over her shoulder at her attendant satellite, "we must pass them. Glossy and I are in haste to-day. Ah, mammy, are you enjoying your ride?" she called to her old nurse as she cantered swiftly by.

      "Yes, dat I is, honey!" returned the old woman. Then sending a loving, admiring look after the retreating form so full of symmetry and grace, "My bressed chile!" she murmured, "you's beautiful as de mornin', your ole mammy tinks, an' sweet as de finest rose in de garden; bright an' happy as de day am long, too."

      "De beautifullest in all de country, an' de finest," chimed in her charioteer.

      The young people at Ashlands were all out on the veranda enjoying the fresh morning air—Herbert lying on a lounge with a book in his hand; Harry and Lucy seated on opposite sides of a small round table and deep in a game of chess; two little fellows of six and eight—John СКАЧАТЬ