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Elsie's New Relations by Martha Finley

M >> Martha Finley >> Elsie\'s New Relations




Zoe had already begun to repent of her open disregard of his wishes, for
during the silent ride memory had been busy with the many expressions of
love and tenderness he had lavished upon her in their short married life,
and if there had been the least bit of either in his tones now, she would
have whispered in his ear that she was sorry and would not so offend
again; but the cold, stern accents made the request sound like a command,
and roused again the spirit of opposition that had almost died out.

She shook off his detaining hand, and walked away in silence, with head
erect and cheeks burning with indignation.

Ralph had not heard Edward's low-spoken words, but looking after Zoe, as
she disappeared within the doorway, "Seems to me you're a bit of a tyrant,
Ned," he remarked with a coarse, disagreeable laugh.

"I am not aware of having shown any evidence of being such," Edward
returned rather haughtily, as he remounted. Then, turning his horse's
head, he rode rapidly away.

Zoe went to her boudoir, gave vent to her anger in a hearty fit of crying,
then set to work at the lessons with a sincere desire to please the
husband she really loved with all her heart.

"I've been forgetting the two bears," she said to herself, "but I'll try
again, and when that hateful Miss Deane goes away, everything will be
right again. I know Ned has to be polite to her; and it's very silly in me
to get vexed when he talks to her; but I can't help it, because he's my
all."

She finished her tasks, dressed herself for dinner with care and taste,
and when she heard his step on the stairs ran to the door to meet him.

Her face was bright and eager, but changed at sight of his cold,
forbidding looks.

"I am ready for you," she said timidly, shrinking away from him.

"Very well, bring your books," he said with, she thought, the air of a
schoolmaster toward a pupil in disgrace, and seating himself as he spoke.

She brought them, keeping her eyes cast down to hide the tell-tale tears.
She controlled her emotion in another moment, and went through the
recitations very creditably to herself.

He made no comment upon that, though usually he would have bestowed warm
praise, but simply appointed the tasks for the next day, rose and left the
room.

Zoe looked after him with a swelling heart, wiped away a tear or two, and
assuming an air of indifference, went down to the parlor to join the rest
of the family.

"Where's Ned?" asked Rosie. "You two used never to be seen apart; but of
late----"

The sentence was suddenly broken off because of a warning look from her
mamma.

"Don't you know, little girl," said Miss Deane in a soft, purring tone,
"that nobody expects married people to remain lovers always?"

"It is what they should do," Elsie said with gentle decision. "It was so
with my husband and myself, and I trust will be with all my children."

"Allow me to advise you to deliver Ned a lecture on the subject, cousin,"
laughed Ralph.

"He doesn't need it," Zoe exclaimed with spirit, turning on Ralph with
flashing eyes.

"Oh," he said, with a loud guffaw, "I should have remembered that any one
taking the part of an abused wife is sure to have her wrath turned upon
himself."

"What do you mean by that, sir? I am _not_ an abused wife," said Zoe,
tears springing to her eyes; "there never was a kinder, tenderer husband
than mine, and I know he loves me dearly."

"He does, indeed, dear; we none of us doubt that in the least; and so you
can well afford to let Ralph enjoy his forlorn joke," remarked Mrs.
Dinsmore, with an indignant, reproving look at the latter, who colored
under it, and relapsed into silence.

The weather was delightful, and the children having been given a half
holiday, spent the afternoon in the grounds. Zoe forsook the company of
the older people for theirs, and joined in their sports, for she was still
child-like in her tastes.

She was as active as a boy, and before her marriage had taken keen delight
in climbing rocks and trees. The apple-trees in the orchard were in full
bloom, and taking a fancy to adorn herself with their blossoms, she
climbed up among the branches of one of the tallest, in order, as she
said, to "take her pick and choice," Rosie, Lulu, Gracie and Walter
standing near and watching her with eager interest.

"Oh, Zoe, take care!" Rosie called to her, "that branch doesn't look
strong, and you might fall and hurt yourself badly."

"Don't you be afraid. I can take care of myself," she returned with a
light laugh.

But another voice spoke close at hand, fairly startling her, it was so
unexpected. "Zoe, what mad prank is this? Let me help you down at once."

"There's no need for you to trouble yourself, I am quite able to get down
without assistance, when I'm ready," she replied, putting a strong
emphasis upon the last words.

"No; it is too dangerous," and he held up his arms with an imperative,
"Come!"

"How you do order me about," she muttered, half under her breath, and more
than half inclined to rebel.

But no; the children were looking and listening, and must not be allowed
to suspect any unpleasantness between herself and her husband.

She dropped into his arms, he set her upon her feet, drew her hand within
his arm, and walked away with her.

"I do not approve of tree-climbing for a married woman, Zoe," he said,
when they were out of ear-shot of the children; "at least, not for my
wife; and I must request you not to try it again."

"It's a pity I didn't know how much my liberty would be curtailed by
getting married," she returned bitterly.

"And I am exceedingly sorry it is out of my power to restore your liberty
to you, since it seems that would add to your happiness."

At that she hastily withdrew her hand from his arm and walked quickly away
from him, taking the direction of the house.

Leaning against a tree, his arms folded, his face pale and stern, he
looked after her with a heart full of keenest anguish. She had never been
dearer to him than at this moment, but alas, she seemed to have lost her
love for him, and what a life of miserable dissension they were likely to
lead, repenting at leisure their foolishly hasty marriage!

And she was half frantic with pain and passion. He was tired of her
already--before they had been married a year--he did not love her any
longer and would be glad to be rid of her. Oh, what should she do! would
that she could fly to the ends of the earth that he might be relieved of
her hated presence.

And yet--oh, how could she ever endure constant absence from him? She
loved him so dearly, so dearly!

She hurried on past the house, down the whole length of the avenue and
back again, the hot tears all the time streaming over her cheeks. Then she
hastily wiped them away, went to her rooms, bathed her eyes, and dressed
carefully for tea.

Womanly pride had come to her aid; she must hide her wounds from all,
especially from Edward himself and "that detestable Miss Deane." She would
pretend to be happy, very happy, and no one should guess how terribly her
heart was aching.




CHAPTER XVIII.

"Where lives the man that has not tried
How mirth can into folly glide,
And folly into sin!"
--Scott.


Ralph Conly was not a favorite with any of his Ion relatives, because they
knew his principles were not altogether such as they could approve, nor
indeed his practice either; yet they had no idea how bad a youth he was,
else intimacy between him and Max would have been forbidden.

All unsuspected by the older people, he was exerting a very demoralizing
influence over the younger boy. Every afternoon they sought out some
private spot and had a game of cards, and little by little Ralph had
introduced gambling into the game, till now the stakes were high in
proportion to the means of the players.

On this particular afternoon they had taken possession of a summer-house
in a retired part of the grounds, and were deep in play.

Ralph at first let Max win, the stakes being small; then raising them
higher, he won again and again, till he had stripped Max of all his
pocket money and his watch.

Max felt himself ruined, and broke out in passionate exclamations of grief
and despair, coupled with accusations of cheating, which were, indeed,
well founded.

Ralph grew furious and swore horrible oaths, and Max answered with a
repetition of his accusation, concluding with an oath, the first he had
uttered since his father's serious talk with him on the exceeding
sinfulness and black ingratitude of profanity.

All that had passed then, the passages of Scripture telling of the
punishment of the swearer under the Levitical law, flashed back upon him
as the words left his lips, and covering his face with his hands he
groaned in anguish of spirit at thought of his fearful sin.

Then Mr. Dinsmore's voice, speaking in sternest accents, startled them
both. "Ralph, is this the kind of boy you are? a gambler and profane
swearer? And you, too, Max? Do you mean to break your poor father's heart
and some day bring down his gray hairs with sorrow to the grave? Go at
once to your room, sir. And you, Ralph, return immediately to Roselands. I
cannot expose my grandchildren to the corrupting influence of such a
character as yours."

The mandate was obeyed promptly and in silence by both, Ralph not daring
to gather up his plunder, or even his cards from the table where they lay.

Mr. Dinsmore took possession of both, and followed Max to the house. In
the heat of their altercation the lads had raised their voices to a high
pitch, and he, happening to be at no great distance, and hastening to the
spot to learn the cause of the disturbance, had come upon them in time to
hear the last sentence uttered by each, and had taken in the whole
situation at a glance.

He went directly to his daughter's dressing-room, and sent for Violet to
join them there.

Both ladies were greatly distressed by the tale he had to tell.

"Oh," sobbed Violet, "it will break my husband's heart to learn that his
only son has taken to such evil courses! And to think that it was a
relative of our own who led him into it!"

"Yes," sighed Mr. Dinsmore, "I blame myself for not being more watchful;
though I had no idea that Ralph had acquired such vices."

"I cannot have you blame yourself, papa," Elsie said, with tender look and
tone, "I am sure it was no fault of yours. And I cannot believe the dear
boy has become a confirmed swearer or gambler in so short a time. He is a
warm-hearted fellow, and has a tender conscience. We will hope by divine
aid to reclaim him speedily."

"Dear mamma, thank you!" exclaimed Violet, smiling through her tears.
"What you say of Max is quite true, and I have no doubt that he is at this
very moment greatly distressed because of his sin."

"I trust it may be so," said Mr. Dinsmore. "But now the question is, what
is to be done with him? I wish his father were here to prescribe the
course to be taken."

"Oh, he has already done so!" cried Violet, bursting into tears again. "He
said if Max should ever be guilty of profanity he was to be confined to
his own room for a week, and forbidden all intercourse with the rest of
the family as unworthy to associate with them. I begged him not to compel
us to be so severe, but he was inexorable."

"Then we have no discretionary power, no choice but to carry out his
directions," Mr. Dinsmore said, feeling rather relieved that the decision
was not left with him. "I shall go now and tell Max what his sentence is,
and from whom it comes.

"And, unfortunately, it will be necessary, in order to carry it out, to
inform the other members of the family, who might otherwise hold
communication with him.

"That task I leave to you, Elsie and Violet."

He left the room, and Violet, after a little sorrowful converse with her
mother, went to her own, and with many tears told Lulu and Gracie what had
occurred, and what was, by their father's direction, to be Max's
punishment.

Both little sisters were shocked and grieved, very sorry for Max, for it
seemed to them quite terrible to be shut up in one room for a whole week,
while to be out of doors was so delightful; but even Lulu had nothing to
say against their father's decree, especially after Violet had explained
that he had made it in his great love for Max, wanting to cure him of
vices that would make him wretched in this life and the next.

Rosie was still more shocked and scarcely less sorry than Lulu and Gracie,
for she had been taught to look upon swearing and gambling as very great
sins, and yet she liked Max very much indeed, and pitied him for the
disgrace and punishment he had brought upon himself.

It was she who told Zoe, seeking her in her dressing-room, where she was
making her toilet for the evening.

"Oh, Rosie, how dreadful!" exclaimed Zoe. "I never could have believed it
of Max! but it is all because of the bad influence of that wicked Ralph.
I see now why Edward disapproves of him so thoroughly that he didn't like
me to ride with him. But I do think Captain Raymond is a very severe
father. A whole week in the house this lovely weather! How can the poor
boy ever stand it!

"And nobody to speak a kind word to him, either. I don't think they ought
to be so hard on him, for I dare say he is grieving himself sick over it
now, for he isn't a bad boy."

"No," said Rosie, "I don't think he is; I like Max very much, but of
course his father's orders have to be carried out, and for that reason we
are all forbidden to go near him, and we have no choice but to obey."

"Forbidden, indeed!" thought Zoe to herself. "I for one shall do as I
please about it."

"Zoe, how pretty you are! that dress is very becoming!" exclaimed Rosie,
suddenly changing the subject.

"Am I? But I can't compare with Miss Deane in either beauty or
conversational powers," returned Zoe, the concluding words spoken with
some bitterness.

"Can't you? just ask Ned about it," laughed Rosie. "I verily believe he
thinks you the sweetest thing he ever set eyes on. There, I hear him
coming, and must run away, for I know he always wants you all to himself
here; and besides, I have to dress."

She ran gayly away, passing her brother on the threshold.

Zoe was busying herself at a bureau drawer, apparently searching for
something, and did not look toward him or speak. In another moment she had
found what she wanted, closed the drawer, and passed into her boudoir.

Edward had been standing silently watching her, love and anger struggling
for the mastery in his breast. If she had only turned to him with a word,
or even a look of regret for the past, and desire for reconciliation, he
would have taken her to his heart again as fully and tenderly as ever. He
was longing to do so, but too proud to make the first advances when he
felt himself the aggrieved one.

"All would be right between them but for Zoe's silly jealousy and pride.
Why could she not trust him and submit willingly to his guidance and
control while she was still so young and inexperienced--such a mere child
as to be quite incapable of judging for herself in any matter of
importance? In fact, he felt it his duty to guide and control her till she
should grow older and wiser."

Such were his thoughts as he went through the duties of the toilet, while
Zoe sat at the window of her boudoir gazing out over the smoothly shaven
lawn with its stately trees, lovely in their fresh spring attire, to the
green fields and woods beyond, yet scarcely taking in the beauty of the
landscape, so full of tears were her eyes, so full her heart of anger,
grief, and pain.

She had not looked at her husband as he stood silently near her a moment
ago, but felt that he was gazing with anger and sternness upon her.

"If he had only said one kind word to me," she whispered to herself, "I
would have told him I was sorry for my silly speech this afternoon, and
oh, so happy to be his own little wife, if--if only he hasn't quit loving
me."

She hastily wiped her eyes and endeavored to assume an air of cheerfulness
and indifference, as she heard his step approaching.

"Are you ready to go down now, Zoe?" he asked in a freezing tone.

"Yes," she answered, turning to follow him as he led the way to the door.

There seemed to be a tacit understanding between them that their
disagreements and coldness toward each other were to be concealed from all
the rest of the world; in the old happy days they had always gone down
together to the drawing-room or the tea-table, therefore would do so
still.

Also, they studiously guarded their words and looks in the presence of any
third person.

Yet Elsie, the tender mother, with eyes sharpened by affection, had
already perceived that all was not right. She had noted Zoe's disturbed
look when Edward seemed specially interested in Miss Deane's talk or Miss
Fleming's music, and had silently determined not to ask them to prolong
their stay at Ion.

The supper-bell rang as Edward and Zoe descended the stairs together, and
they obeyed its summons without going into the drawing-room.

Violet's place at the table was vacant as well as that of Max, and Lulu
and Gracie bore the traces of tears about their eyes.

These things reminded Zoe of Max's trouble, forgotten for a time in her
own, and she thought pityingly of him in his imprisonment, wondered if he
would be put upon prison fare, and determined to find out, and if he were,
to try to procure him something better.

She made an errand to her own rooms soon after leaving the table, went to
his door and knocked softly.

"Who's there?" he asked in a voice half choked with sobs.

"It is I, Maxie," she said in an undertone at the keyhole, "Zoe, you know.
I want to say I'm ever so sorry for you, and always ready to do anything I
can to help you."

"Thank you," he said, "but I mustn't see anybody, so can't open the door;
and, indeed," with a heavy sob, "I'm not fit company for you or any of
the rest."

"Yes, you are, you're as good as I am. But why can't you open the door?
are you locked in?"

"No; but--papa said I--I must stay by myself for a week if--if I did what
I have done to-day. So please don't stay any longer, though it was ever so
good in you to come."

"Good-by, then," and she moved away.




CHAPTER XIX.

"High minds of native pride and force
Most deeply feel thy pangs, remorse!
Fear of their scourge mean villains have;
Thou art the torture of the brave."
--Scott.


Max sat before his writing-table, his folded arms upon it, and his face
hidden upon them. He was in sore distress of mind. How he had fallen
before temptation! into what depths of disgrace and sin! sin that in olden
times would have been punished with death, even as the horrible crime of
murder, and that must still be as hateful as ever in the sight of an
unchangeable God.

And not only that sin, of which he had thought he had so truly and deeply
repented, but another which he had always been taught was a very low and
degrading vice. Oh, could there be forgiveness for him?

And how would his dear honored father feel when the sad story should reach
his ears? would it indeed break his heart as Grandpa Dinsmore had said?
The boy's own heart was overwhelmed with grief, dismay, and remorse as he
asked himself these torturing questions.

The door opened, but so softly that the sound was lost in his bitter
sobbing, then a hand rested lightly, tenderly upon his bowed head, and a
gentle, pitying voice said, "My poor, dear boy, my heart bleeds for you."

"O Grandma Elsie!" he burst out, "can you say that to such a wicked fellow
as I am?"

"Did not Jesus weep with compassion over the sinners of Jerusalem, many of
whom were even then plotting His death? And, Maxie, He pities you in your
fallen estate, and is ready to forgive you the moment you turn to Him with
grief and hatred of your sin and an earnest desire to forsake it, and to
give yourself to His service."

"Oh, I do, I do hate it!" he cried out with vehemence. "I didn't mean ever
to swear any more, and I feel as if I'd rather cut off my right hand than
to do it again! But oh, how can I ask Him to forgive me, when He did once,
and I've gone and done the same wicked thing again, just as if I hadn't
been really sorry at all, though I was sure I was! Grandma Elsie, what
shall I do?"

"'Let the wicked forsake his way, and the unrighteous man his thoughts;
let him return unto the Lord, and He will have mercy upon him, and to our
God, for He will abundantly pardon.'

"'He is the Lord, the Lord God, merciful and gracious, long-suffering and
abundant in goodness and truth, keeping mercy for thousands, forgiving
iniquity and transgression and sin.'

"'His name is Jesus, for He shall save His people from their sins.' He
says, 'Him that cometh unto me, I will in no wise cast out.' 'O Israel,
thou hast destroyed thyself; but in me is thine help.'

"'Though your sins be as scarlet, they shall be as white as snow; though
they be red like crimson, they shall be as wool.'

"'I, even I, am He that blotteth out thy transgressions for my own sake,
and will not remember thy sins.'"

"Oh, He is very good to say that!" sobbed the penitent boy. "But won't you
ask Him to forgive me, Grandma Elsie?"

"Yes, Max, but you must pray, too, for yourself; confess your sins to Him,
and ask Him to blot them out and remember them no more against you,
because Jesus has suffered their penalty in your stead. Shall we kneel
down now and ask Him?"

She stayed with him some time longer, talking in tender, motherly fashion;
not extenuating his guilt, but speaking of the blood that cleanseth from
all sin, the love and tender compassion of Jesus, His willingness and
ability to save them to the uttermost that come unto God by Him.

Warning him, too, of the danger from evil associates and from indulgence
in the vice of gambling.

Then she told him he was not too young to begin to lead a Christian life,
and urged him to do so without a moment's delay.

"I think I do want to be a Christian, Grandma Elsie," he said, "if I only
knew just how."

"It is to leave the service of Satan for that of the Lord Jesus Christ,"
she said. "It is to give yourself body and soul, at once and forever, to
Jesus, trusting in Him alone for salvation from sin and eternal death.

"'Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ, and thou shalt be saved,' 'Look unto
me and be ye saved, all the ends of the earth.'

"Just take the first step, and He will help you on all the way, one step
at a time, till you reach the gates of the celestial city. 'This God is
our God forever and ever, He will be our guide even unto death.'

"Just speak to the Lord Jesus, dear Max, as if you could see Him standing
before you while you knelt at His feet; say to Him as the leper did,
'Lord, if thou wilt, thou canst make me clean.' Tell Him how full you are
of the dreadful leprosy of sin, how unable to heal yourself, and beseech
Him to do the work for you, to wash you and make you clean and cover you
with the robe of His righteousness; give yourself to Him, asking Him to
accept the worthless gift and make you entirely and forever His own."

She rose to leave him.

"Oh, do stay a little longer!" he pleaded, clinging to her hand. "Tell me,
do you think Mamma Vi will ever love me any more? that she will ever kiss
me again?" he sobbed.

"I am sure she will, Max," Elsie answered in moved tones; "she has not
ceased to love you, and I think will come and speak a word to you now, if
you wish it."

"Oh, so much! only--only I'm dreadfully ashamed to look her in the face.
And--O Grandma Elsie, do you think it will break my father's heart when he
hears it all?"

"It will make him very sad indeed, I have no doubt, Max," she answered,
gently, "but if he hears, too, that you have truly repented and given your
heart to God, he cannot fail to be greatly comforted. Tell him the whole
truth, my dear boy, don't try to conceal anything from him."

"It's what I mean to do, Grandma Elsie," he said with a heavy sigh,
"though I'd rather take the worst kind of a flogging. And that's what I'd
get if he was here, for he told me so."

"I am very glad you love your father so well, Max, and that your sorrow is
more for grieving him, and especially for having dishonored and displeased
God, than for the unpleasant consequences to yourself; it gives me great
hope that you will never be guilty of such conduct again.

"Now, I shall go and send your mamma to you; she is in her own rooms, for
she has been too much distressed over her dear boy's sad fall to join the
others at the table or in the drawing-room. She loves you very dearly,
Max."

"It's very good of her," he said in trembling tones, "and oh, I'm ever so
sorry to have grieved her so!"

Violet was greatly comforted by her mother's report of her interview with
Max, because both saw in his conduct and words the evidence of sincere
repentance toward God, giving them strong hope of his future avoidance of
the sins of profanity and gambling.

She went to him presently, put her arms about him, kissed him, wept with
him, and like her mother pointed him to the Saviour, telling of His
willingness to forgive every truly penitent soul.

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