Elsie's Motherhood by Martha Finley

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"Why not return with us and breakfast at Ion?" asked Elsie.

"Why not stay and breakfast with us?" said Rose.

"Certainly," said her husband. "Take off your hat, daughter, and sit
down to your father's table as of old."

"Ah, my little ones! I know they are watching now for mamma and
wondering at her long delay."

"Then I shall not detain, but rather speed you on your way," he said,
leading her out and assisting her to mount her horse.

The children had thought mamma's ride a long one that morning, and much
they wondered at papa's unusual silence and abstraction. He quite forgot
to romp with them, but indeed there was scarcely time, as he did not
come in from the fields till the breakfast bell had begun to ring.

Grace had just been said, every one was sitting silent, quietly waiting
to be helped (the children were all at the table, for "Cousin Ronald"
who had been with them for a week, was now considered quite one of the
family). Mr. Travilla took up the carving knife and fork with the
intent to use them upon a chicken that lay in a dish before him; but the
instant he touched it with the fork, a loud squawk made every body
start, and Harold nearly tumbled from his chair.

"Why dey fordot to kill it!" he cried breathlessly.

"But its head's off!" said Eddie, gazing into the dish in wide-eyed
astonishment.

"Ah ha nn h'm! is that the way your American fowls behave at table?"
asked Cousin Ronald, gravely, but with a slight twinkle in his eye,
pushing back his chair a little while keeping his eyes steadily fixed
upon the ill-mannered bird, as if fearful that its next escapade might
be to fly in his face; "a singular breed they must be."

Elsie and her husband began to recover from their momentary surprise and
bewilderment, and exchanged laughing glances, while the latter, turning
to his guest, said, "Capitally done, cousin! wouldn't have disgraced
Signor Blitz himself or any of his guild. But I had no suspicion that
ventriloquism was one of your many accomplishments. What part shall I
help you to?"

"The leg, if you please; who knows but I may have use for more than two
to-night?"

A gleam of intelligence lighted up little Elsie's face. "Oh! I
understand it now," she said, with a low silvery laugh; "cousin is a
ventriloquist."

"What's that?" asked Vi.

"Oh I know!" cried Eddie. "Cousin Ronald, don't you have a great deal
of fun doing it?"

"Well, my boy, perhaps rather more than I ought, seeing it's very apt to
be at other folks' expense."

The guest, mamma and Elsie having been helped, it was now Vi's turn to
claim papa's attention.

"What shall I send you, daughter?" he asked.

"Oh nothing, papa, please! no, no, I can't eat live things," she said
half shuddering.

"It is not alive my child."

Violet looked utterly bewildered: she had never known her father to say
anything that was not perfectly true, yet how could she disbelieve the
evidence of her own senses?

"Papa, could it hollow so loud when it was dead?" she asked
deprecatingly.

"It did not, my little darling; 'twas I," said Cousin Ronald, preventing
papa's reply, "the chick seemed to make the noise but it was really I."

Papa and mamma both confirmed this statement and the puzzled child
consented to partake of the mysterious fowl.

Minna, standing with her basket of keys at the back of her mistress's
chair, Tom and Prilla, waiting on the table, had been as much startled
and mystified by the chicken's sudden outcry as Vi herself, and seized
with superstitious fears, turned almost pale with terror.

Mr. Lilburn's assertion and the concurrent assurance of their master and
mistress, relieved their fright; but they were still full of
astonishment, and gazed at the guest with wonder and awe.

Of course the story was told in the kitchen and created much curiosity
and excitement there.

This excitement was, however, soon lost in a greater when the news of
the expected attack from the Ku Klux circulated among them an hour or
two later.

It could not be kept from the children, but they were calmed and soothed
by mamma's assurance, "God will take care of us, my darlings, and help
papa, grandpa and the rest to drive the bad men away."

"Mamma," said Vi, "we little ones can't fight, but if we pray a good
deal to God, will that help?"

"Yes, daughter, for the Bible tells us God is the hearer and answerer of
prayer."

Elsie herself seemed entirely free from agitation and alarm; full of
hope and courage, she inspired those about her with the same feelings;
the domestic machinery moved on in its usual quiet, regular fashion.

The kitchen department it is true, was the scene of much earnest talk,
but the words were spoken with bated breath, and many an anxious glance
from door and window, as if the speakers feared the vicinity of some
lurking foe.

Aunt Dicey was overseeing the making of a huge kettle of soft soap.

"Tears like dis yer's a long time a comin'," she said, giving the liquid
a vigorous stir, then lifting her paddle and holding it over the kettle
to see if it dripped off in the desired ropy condition; "but dere, dis
ole sinnah no business growlin' 'bout dat; yah! yah!" and dropping the
paddle, she put her hands on her hips, rolled up her eyes and fairly
shook with half suppressed laughter.

"What you larfin' at, Aunt Dicey? 'pears you's mighty tickled 'bout
suffin'," remarked the cook, looking up in wonder and curiosity from the
eggs she was beating.

"What's de fun, Aunt Dicey?" asked Uncle Joe, who sat in the doorway
busily engaged in cleaning a gun.

"Why, don't you see, darkies? de soap ain't gwine to come till 'bout de
time de Kluxes roun' heyah; den dis chile gib 'em a berry warm
deception, yah! yah! yah!"

"A powerful hot one," observed the cook, joining in the laugh; "but dey
won't min' it; dey's cobered up, you know."

"'Taint no diffence," remarked Uncle Joe, "de gowns an' masks, dey's
nuffin but cotton cloth, an' de hot soap'll permeate right tru, an'
scald de rascal's skins!"

"Dat's so; an' take de skin off too."

Uncle Joe stopped work and mused a moment, scratching his head and
gazing into vacancy.

"'Clar to goodness dat's a splendid idea, Aunt Dicey!" he burst out at
length. "An' let's hab a kettle ob boilin' lye to tote up stairs in da
house, 'bout de time we see de Kluxes comin' up de road; den Aunt Chloe
an' Prilla can expense it out ob de windows; a dippah full at a time.
Kin you git um ready fo' den?"

"Dat I kin," she replied with energy, "dis consecrated lye don't take no
time to fix. I'll hab it ready, sho' as you lib."

Meanwhile the party from the Oaks had arrived according to appointment,
and with Mr. Travilla and his guest, were busy with their arrangements
for the coming conflict, when quite unexpectedly old Mr. Dinsmore and
Calhoun Conly appeared upon the scene.

"We have broken in upon a conference, I think," remarked the old
gentleman, glancing from one to another and noticing that the entrance
of himself and grandson seemed to thrown a slight constraint over them.

"Rest assured, sir, that you are most welcome," replied Mr. Travilla.
"We were conferring together on a matter of importance, but one which I
am satisfied need not be concealed from you or Cal. I have had certain
information that the Ku Klux--"

"Stay!" cried Calhoun, springing to his feet, a burning flush rising to
his very hair, "don't, I beg of you, cousin, say another word in my
presence. I--I know I'm liable to be misunderstood--a wrong construction
put upon my conduct," he continued glancing in an agony of shame and
entreaty from one astonished face to another, "but I beg you will judge
me leniently and never, _never_, doubt my loyalty to you all," and
bowing courteously to the company he hastily left the room, and hurrying
out of the house, mounted his horse and galloped swiftly down the
avenue.

For a moment those left behind looked at each other in dumb surprise;
then old Mr. Dinsmore broke the silence by a muttered exclamation, "Has
the boy gone daft?"

"I think I understand it, sir," said his son, "poor Cal has been
deceived and cajoled into joining that organization, under a
misapprehension of its deeds and aims, but having learned how base,
cruel, and insurrectionary they are, has ceased to act with them--or
rather never has acted with them--yet is bound by oath to keep their
secrets and do nothing against them."

"Would be perilling his life by taking part against them," added Mr.
Travilla. "I think he has done the very best he could under the
circumstances."

He then went on with his communication to the old gentleman, who
received it with a storm of wrath and indignation.

"It is time indeed to put them down when it has come to this!" he
exclaimed, "The idea of their daring to attack a man of your standing,
an old family like this,--of the best blood in the country! I say it's
downright insolence, and I'll come over myself and help chastise them
for their temerity."

"Then you counsel resistance, sir?" queried his son.

"Counsel it? of course I do! nobody but a coward and poltroon would
think of anything else. But what are your plans, Travilla?"

"To barricade the verandas with bags of sand and bales of cotton,
leaving loopholes here and there, post ourselves behind these defenses,
and do what execution we can upon the assailants."

"Good! Who's your captain?"

"Your son, sir."

"Very good; he has had little or no experience in actual warfare, but I
think his maiden effort will prove a success."

"If on seeing our preparations they depart peaceably, well and good,"
remarked Travilla. "But if they insist on forcing an entrance, we shall
feel no scruples about firing upon them."

"Humph! I should think not, indeed!" grunted the old gentleman;
"'Self-defense is the first law of nature.'"

"And we are told by our Lord, 'all they that take the sword, shall
perish with the sword,'" observed his son.

The arrangements completed, the Dinsmores returned to their homes for
the rest of the day.

About dusk the work of barricading was begun, all the able-bodied men on
the plantation, both house-servants and field-hands, being set to work
at it. The materials had been brought up to the near vicinity of the
house during the day. The men's hearts were in the undertaking (not one
of them but would have risked his own life freely in defense of their
loved master and mistress), and many hands made light and speedy work.

While this was in progress, old Mr. Dinsmore and the whole family from
the Oaks arrived; Rose and her daughter preferring to be there rather
than left at home without their natural protectors.

Elsie welcomed them joyfully and at once engaged their assistance in
loading for the gentlemen.

The little ones were already in bed and sleeping sweetly, secure in the
love and protecting care of their earthly and their heavenly Father.
Little Elsie, now ten years old, was no longer required to retire quite
so early, but when her regular hour came she went without a murmur.

She was quite ready for bed, had just risen from her knees, when her
mother came softly in and clasped her in a tender embrace.

"Mamma, dear, dear mamma, how I love you! and papa too!" whispered the
child, twining her arms about her mother's neck. "Don't let us be afraid
of those wicked men, mamma. I am sure God will not let them get papa,
because we have all prayed so much for his help; all of us together in
worship this morning and this evening, and we children up here; and
Jesus said, 'If two of you shall agree on earth, as touching anything
that they shall ask, it shall be done for them of my Father which is in
heaven.'"

"Yes, darling, and he will fulfill his word; he will not suffer anything
to befall but what shall be for his glory and our good. Now, dear
daughter, lie down and take that promise for a pillow to sleep upon; and
if waked by sounds of conflict, lift up your heart to God for your dear
father, and mine, and all of us."

"I will, mamma, I will."

Leaving a loving kiss on the sweet young lips, and another on the brow
of her sleeping Violet, the mother glided noiselessly from the room.

"What is it, mammy?" she asked on finding her faithful old nurse waiting
to speak with her in the outer room.

"Miss Elsie, honey, is you willin' to let us scald dem Kluxes wid
boilin' soap an' lye?"

"Scald them, mammy?" she exclaimed with a slight shudder. "I can hardly
bear the thought of treating a dog so cruelly!"

"But dey's worse dan dogs. Miss Elsie; dogs neber come and detack folks
dat's sleepin' quietly in dere beds; does dey now?"

"No; and these men would take my husband's life. You may all fight them
with any weapon you can lay hands on."

Aunt Chloe returned her thanks and proceeded to give an account of the
plan concocted by Aunt Dicey and Uncle Joe.

Elsie, returning to the dining-room, repeated it there.

"Excellent!" exclaimed her brother. "Come, Art, let's hang a bell in the
kitchen and attach a string to it, taking the other end up to the
observatory."

The suggestion was immediately carried out. It had been previously
arranged that the two young men should repair to the observatory, and
there watch for the coming of the foe, and on their first appearance,
probably a mile or more distant, give the alarm to those below, by
pulling a wire attached to that from which the front door bell was
suspended; thus setting it to ringing loudly. Now they were prepared to
sound the tocsin in the kitchen, also, thus giving time for the removal
of the boiling lye from the fire there to the second story of the
mansion, where it was to be used according to Uncle Joe's plan.

The detective had reported the assailing party as numbering from
thirty-five to forty; but the Ion force, though much inferior in point
of numbers, even with the addition of eight or ten negro men belonging
to the Oaks and Ion, who were tolerably proficient in the use of
firearms, certainly had the advantage of position, and of being on the
side of right and justice.

The gentlemen seemed full of a cheerful courage, the ladies calm and
hopeful. Yet they refused to retire, though strongly urged to do so,
insisting that to sleep would be simply impossible.

It was but ten o'clock when all was ready, yet the young men deemed it
most prudent to betake themselves at once to their outlook, since there
might possibly have been some change in the plans of the enemy.

The others gathered in one of the lower rooms to while away the tedious
time of waiting as best they could. Conversation flagged; they tried
music, but it had lost its charms for the time being; they turned away
from the piano and harp and sank into silence; the house seemed
strangely silent, and the pattering of Bruno's feet as he passed slowly
down the whole length of the corridor without, came to their ears with
almost startling distinctness.

Then he appeared in the doorway, where he stood turning his eyes from
one to another with a wistful, questioning gaze: then words seemed to
come from his lips in tones of wonder and inquiry.

"What are you all doing here at this time o' night, when honest folk
should be a-bed?"

"Just what I've been asking myself for the last hour," gravely remarked
a statue in a niche in the opposite wall.

The effect was startling even to those who understood the thing; more so
to the others, Rosie screamed and ran to her father for protection.

"Why, why, why!" cried old Mr. Dinsmore, in momentary perplexity and
astonishment.

"Don't be afraid Miss Rosie; I'm a faithful friend, and the woman over
there couldn't hurt you if she would," said Bruno, going up to the young
girl, wagging his tail and touching his cold nose to her hand.

She drew it away with another scream.

"Dear child," said her sister, "it is only a trick of ventriloquism."

"Meant to amuse, not alarm," added Mr. Lilburn.

Rosie, nestling in her father's arms, drew a long breath of relief, and
half laughing, half crying, looked up saucily into Mr. Lilburn's face.

"And it was you, sir? oh, how you scared me!"

"I beg your pardon, my bonnie lassie," he said, "I thought to relieve,
somewhat, the tediousness of the hour."

"For which accept our thanks," said Mr. Dinsmore. "But I perceive it is
not the first time that Travilla and Elsie have been witnesses of your
skill."

"No," said Elsie, laughing. "My dear, you are good at a story, tell them
what happened at breakfast this morning."

Mr. Travilla complied with the request. He was an excellent story-teller
and made his narrative very entertaining.

But in the midst of their mirth a sudden awe-struck silence fell upon
them. There was a sound as of the rattling of stiffly starched robes;
then a gruff voice from the hall exclaimed, "There he is, the old
scalawag! Dinsmore too. Now take good aim, Bill, and let's make sure
work."

Rosie was near screaming again, but catching sight of Mr. Lilburn's
face, laughed instead; a little hysterical nervous laugh.

"Oh t's you again, sir!" she cried. "Please don't frighten me any more."

"Ah, no, I will not," he said, and at that moment a toy man and woman
on the table began a vastly amusing conversation about their own private
affairs.

In the kitchen and the domiciles of the house-servants, there was the
same waiting and watching; old and young, all up and wide awake,
gathered in groups and talked in undertones, of the doings of the Ku
Klux, and of the reception they hoped to give them that night. Aunt
Dicey glorying in the prospect of doing good service in the defense of
"her family" as she proudly termed her master, mistress and the
children, kept her kettles of soap and lye at boiling heat, and two
stalwart fellows close at hand to obey her orders.

Aunt Chloe and Dinah were not with the others, but in the nursery
watching over the slumbers of "de chillens." Uncle Joe was with Mr.
Leland, who was not yet able to use the wounded limb and was to be
assisted to his hiding place upon the first note of alarm.

In the observatory the two young men kept a vigilant eye upon every
avenue of approach to the plantation. There was no moon that night, but
the clear bright starlight made it possible to discern moving white
objects at a considerable distance. Horace was full of excitement and
almost eager for the affray, Arthur calm and quiet.

"This waiting is intolerable!" exclaimed the former when they had been
nearly an hour at their post. "How do you stand it, Art?"

"I find it tedious, and there is in all probability, at least an hour of
it yet before us. But my impatience is quelled by the thought that it
may be to me the last hour of life."

"True; and to me also. A solemn thought, Art, and yet might not the same
be said of any day or hour of our lives?"

From that they fell into a very serious conversation in which each
learned more of the other's inner life than he had ever known before:
both were trusting in Christ and seeking to know and do his will, and
from that hour their hearts were knit together as the hearts of David
and Jonathan.

Gradually their talk ceased till but a word or two was dropped now and
then, while the vigilance of their watch was redoubled; for the hour of
midnight had struck--the silver chimes of a clock in the hall below
coming distinctly to their ears--and any moment might bring the raiders
into view.

Below stairs too a solemn hush had fallen upon each with the first
stroke of the clock, and hearts were going up in silent prayer to God.

Horace was gazing intently in the direction of Fairview but at a point
somewhat beyond.

"Look, Art!" he cried in an excited whisper, "do my eyes deceive me? or
are there really some white objects creeping slowly along yonder road?"

"I--I think--yes, yes it is they!" returned Arthur, giving a rigorous
pull to the string attached to the bell in the kitchen, while Horace did
the same by the wire connected with the other; then springing to the
stairway they descended with all haste.

Loudly the alarm pealed out in both places, bringing all to their feet,
and paling the cheeks of the ladies.

Mr. Dinsmore's orders were given promptly, in calm, firm tones, and each
repaired to his post.

Aunt Dicey, assuming command in the kitchen, delivered her orders with
equal promptness and decision.

"Yo' Ben an' Jack, tote dis yer pot ob lye up stairs quick as lightnin',
an' set it whar Aunt Chloe tells yo'. An' yo' Venus, stan' by de pot ob
soap wid a dippah in yo' hand, an' fire away at de fust Klux dat shows
his debbil horns an' tongue at de do'. Min' now, yo' take um in de eye,
an' he neber come roun' heyah no mo' tryin' to kill Marse Ed'ard."

Mr. Leland had fallen asleep in the early part of the evening, but woke
with the ringing of the alarm bells.

"Ah, they must be in sight, Uncle Joe," he said; "help me to my hiding
place and leave me there. You will be needed below."

"Yes, Massa Leland, dey's coming" said the old man, instantly complying
with his request, "an' dis niggah's to demand de boilin' lye compartment
ob dis army ob defense."

A narrow couch had been spread in the little concealed apartment, and in
a trice Mr. Leland found himself stretched upon it.

"There, I'm quite comfortable, Uncle Joe," he said; "lay my pistols
here, close to my hand; then close the panel with all care, and when you
leave the room, lock the door behind you and hide the key in the usual
place."

"Yes, sah; an' please, sah, as yo's got nuffin' else for to do, keep
askin' de Lord ob armies to help de right."

"That I will," answered Leland heartily.

Uncle Joe, moving with almost youthful alacrity, obeyed the orders
given, and hastened to join his wife and Dinah whom he found on the
upper veranda in front of the nursery windows, standing ladle in hand,
one by the kettle of lye, the other leaning over the railing watching
for the coming of the foe.

The old man, arming himself also with a ladle of large capacity, took
his station beside the latter.

"Aunt Chloe," said he, "yo' bettah go back to de chillens, fear dey
might wake up an' be powerful scared."

"Yes, spect I bettah; dere ole mammy do best to be wid de darlins," she
replied, resigning her ladle to Prilla, who joined them at that moment,
and hurrying back to her charge.

She found her mistress bending over the crib of the sleeping babe. "I am
so thankful they were not roused by the noise, mammy," she said softly,
glancing at the bed where the older two lay in profound slumber, "but
don't leave them alone even for a moment."

"Deed I won't, darlin'; de bressed little lambs! dere ole mammy'd fight
de Kluxes to her last breff, fo' dey should hurt a hair ob deir heads.
But don't ye fret, Miss Elsie, honey; dey'll not come yere; de good Lord
'll not let dem get into de house," she added, big tears filling her old
eyes, while she clasped her idolized mistress in her arms as if she were
still the little girl she had so loved to caress and fondle years ago.

Elsie returned the embrace, gave a few whispered directions, and glided
into the next room, there to linger a moment by the couch of her little
girls, who were also sleeping sweetly, then hastened to rejoin Mrs.
Dinsmore and Rosie, in one of the rooms opening upon the lower front
veranda.

They sat at a table covered with arms and ammunition. Rose was a little
pale, but calm and composed, as was Elsie also; Rosie, making a great
effort to be brave, could not still the loud beating of her heart as she
sat listening intently for sounds from without.

Elsie placing herself beside her young sister and taking her hand,
pressed it tenderly, whispering with a glad smile, "'They that trust in
the Lord shall be as Mount Zion, which can not be removed, but abideth
forever.'"

Rosie nodded a half-tearful assent.

Horace looked in. "They are just entering the avenue. Mother and
sisters, be brave and help us with your prayers," he said, low and
earnestly, and was gone.

The ladies exchanged one swift glance, then bent forward in a listening
attitude and for the next few moments every other sense seemed lost in
that of hearing.

The raiders, as was their usual custom, had dismounted at the gate, and
leaving their horses in the care of two of their number, approached the
house on foot. They came on three abreast, but as they neared the
dwelling, one line branched off and passed around it in the direction of
the kitchen.

In an instant more the double column, headed by the leader of the troop,
had reached the steps of the veranda, where it came to a sudden halt, a
sort of half smothered grunt of astonishment coming from the captain as
he hastily ran his eye along the barricade, which till that moment had
been concealed from himself and comrades, by the semi-darkness and a
profusion of flowering vines.

The darkness and silence of death seemed to reign within: yet each one
of the little garrison was at his post, looking out through a loophole,
and covering one or another of the foe with his revolver, while with his
finger upon the trigger, he only awaited the word of command to send the
bullet to its mark.

Young Horace found it hard to restrain his impatience. "What a splendid
opportunity his father was letting slip! why did he hesitate to give the
signal?" For, perhaps, the first time in his life, the young man thought
his father unwise.

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