Elsie at the World's Fair by Martha Finley

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"Now I am going to relieve the anxiety of the gentlemen, particularly the
one belonging especially to me," said Violet, in a lively tone, rising
with the last word and hurrying away in their direction. The others sat
silently watching her and her auditors.

"Ah," laughed Mildred presently, "they are all well satisfied with the
arrangement except Mr. Lilburn. He wears a dubious, disappointed look. Ah,
Annis, how can you have the heart to disappoint him so?"

"Never mind, Annis, he will prize you all the more for not being able to
get possession of you too quickly and easily," said Mrs. Dinsmore.

"So I think," returned Annis demurely; "also that it will be quite as well
for him to have a little more time to learn about all my faults and
failings."

"I do not believe he will be able to find them," said Mrs. Dinsmore, with
an admiring look into the sweet face of the speaker, "since I have not
succeeded in so doing."

Lucilla and Grace, seated a little apart from the others, had been
watching with keen interest all that passed among both ladies and
gentlemen.

"There, just look at Cousin Ronald!" exclaimed Lucilla. "He isn't
smiling--looks rather disappointed I think; so I suppose we are not to be
allowed to carry out our plan. And I think it would be just splendid to
have a wedding here on board our yacht."

"Yes; so did I," returned Grace; "but I suppose she doesn't like the idea
of being married in a hurry. I'm sure I shouldn't. I don't believe Rosie
would mind that though; and Mr. Croly seems to say by his looks that he
would like to take possession of her as soon as possible."

"Yes, no doubt he would. He ought to wait till he can have his father and
mother present, however; and besides Grandpa Dinsmore and Grandma Elsie
won't consent to let her marry for at least a year. I shouldn't think she
would feel willing to leave her mother even then; unless as Mamma Vi did,
for such a man as our father."

"But there isn't any other," asserted Grace more positively than she
often spoke. "Papa is just one by himself for lovableness, goodness,
kindness--oh, everything that is admirable!"

"Indeed he is all that!" responded Lucilla heartily. "Oh, I could never
bear to leave him and cannot help wondering at Rosie--how she can think of
leaving her mother! Her father being dead, she wouldn't be leaving him,
but Grandma Elsie is so sweet and lovable. To be sure, just as I said,
Mamma Vi did leave her, but then it seems all right since it was for love
of papa. But what are you looking so searchingly at me for, Gracie?"

"Oh, something that Rosie said last night quite astonished me, and I was
wondering if it were possible she could be right."

"Right about what?"

"Why, that Chester Dinsmore is deeply in love with you, and that you care
something for him too."

"Oh, what nonsense!" exclaimed Lucilla with a half vexed, yet mirthful
look. "I am only half grown up, as papa always says, and really I don't
care a continental for that young man. I like him quite well as a
friend--he has always been very polite and kind to me since that time when
he came so near cutting my fingers off with his skates--but it is absurd
to think he wants to be anything more than a friend; besides papa doesn't
want me to think about beaux for years to come, and I don't want to
either."

"I believe you, Lu," said Grace, "for you are as perfectly truthful a
person as anybody could be. Besides I know I love our father too dearly
ever to want to leave him for the best man that ever lived; there couldn't
be a better one than he is, or one who could have a more unselfish love
for you and me."

"Exactly what I think," returned Lucilla. "But there's the call to
supper."

CHAPTER XXI.

"Annis, dear, my ain love, my bonny lass," Mr. Lilburn said, when at last
he could get a moment's private chat with her, "why condemn me to wait
longer for my sweet young wife? Is it that you fear to trust your
happiness to my keeping?"

"Oh, no, not that," she replied, casting down her eyes, and half turning
away her face to hide the vivid blush that mantled her cheek; "but you
hardly know yet, hardly understand, what a risk you run in asking me to
share your life."

"Ah," he said, "my only fear is that you may be disappointed in me; and
yet if so, it shall not be for lack of love and tenderest care, for to me
it seems that no dearer, sweeter lass ever trod this earth."

"Ah, you don't know me!" she repeated, with a slight smile. "I am not
afraid to trust you, and yet I think it would be better for us to wait a
little and enjoy the days of courtship. One reason why I would defer
matters is that we will never again have an opportunity to see this
wonderful Fair, and I have seen but little of it yet; also I would not
willingly miss spending as much time as possible with my dear brother and
sisters whom I am about to leave for a home with you, and I must make some
preparation in the matter of dress too."

"Ah, well, my bonny lass, 'if a woman will, she will you may depend on't,
and if she won't, she won't and there's an end on't.' So I'll even give up
to you, comforting mysel' that ye'll be mine at last; and that in the mean
time I shall have your dear companionship while together we explore the
streets and buildings of this wonderful White City."

At that moment others came upon the scene and put an end to the private
talk.

The next two weeks were those of delightful experience to all our friends,
to Annis in particular, spent in visits to that beautiful Court of Honor,
and to various interesting exhibits to be found in other parts of the
Fair, with an occasional change of scene and occupation by a shopping
excursion to Chicago in search of wedding finery.

She would not allow herself to anticipate the pain of the partings from
the dear brothers and sisters, nieces and nephews, that lay before her,
but gave herself up to the enjoyment of the present; in especial of the
intercourse with him who was the chosen companion of her future life on
earth.

The yacht could not furnish night accommodations for all, but usually all
the relatives and friends gathered about its supper table and afterward
spent an hour or more upon its deck in rest that was particularly
enjoyable after the day's exertion, and in cheerful chat over their varied
experiences since separating in the morning; for they were now much too
large a company to keep together in their wanderings in and about the
White City.

But the time approached when they must separate. The trousseau--with the
exception of such articles as it was considered more desirable to purchase
in New York or Philadelphia--was ready, all the arrangements for the
wedding feast had been made, and but a day or two intervened between that
and the one which was to see Annis become a bride and set out upon her
wedding tour.

The evening meal was over, and leaving the table they assembled upon the
deck.

"Has anyone seen the evening paper or the morning one either?" asked Mr.
Dinsmore, addressing his query to the company in general.

"Yes, sir; I have," answered Harold. "There has been an awful railroad
collision, one section of the train running into another; a good many
killed; one lady meeting with a most terrible fate," he added with
emotion, "but she was an earnest, active Christian worker, and no doubt is
now rejoicing before the throne of God."

"But oh, couldn't they have saved her?" asked his mother, in tones
tremulous with feeling. "How was it? what was the difficulty?"

"The car was crushed and broken, her limbs caught between broken timbers
in such a way that it was impossible to free her in season to prevent the
flames--for the car was on fire--from burning her to death. The upper part
of her body was free, and she close to a window, so that she could speak
to the gathered crowd who, though greatly distressed by the sight of her
agony, were powerless to help her. She sent messages to her dear ones and
her Sunday-school class and died like a martyr."

"Poor dear woman!" said Violet, in low, tender tones. "Oh, how well that
her peace was made with God before the accident, for she could do little
thinking in such an agony of pain."

"Yes; and such sudden calls should make us all careful to be ready at any
moment for the coming of the Master," said Mr. Dinsmore.

"Yes," assented the captain, "and we do not know that he may not come at
any moment, for any of us; either by death or in the clouds of heaven.
'Be ye also ready; for in such an hour as ye think not, the Son of Man
cometh,' is his own warning to us all."

"Dear Christian woman, how happy she is now!" said Grandma Elsie; "that
agony of pain all over, and an eternity of bliss at God's right hand--an
eternity of the Master's love and presence already hers."

A moment of deep and solemn silence followed, then from the lake they
seemed to hear two voices sweetly singing:

"I would not live alway: I ask not to stay
Where storm after storm rises dark o'er the way;
The few lurid mornings that dawn on us here,
Are enough for life's woes, full enough for its cheer.

"I would not live alway, thus fetter'd by sin,
Temptation without and corruption within:
E'en the rapture of pardon is mingled with fears,
And the cup of thanksgiving with penitent tears.

"I would not live alway; no, welcome the tomb:
Since Jesus hath lain there, I dread not its gloom;
There, sweet be my rest, till he bid me arise
To hail him in triumph descending the skies.

"Who, who would live alway, away from his God;
Away from yon heaven, that blissful abode,
Where the rivers of pleasure flow o'er the bright plains,
And the noontide of glory eternally reigns;

"Where the saints of all ages in harmony meet,
Their Saviour and brethren, transported, to greet;
While the anthems of rapture unceasingly roll,
And the smile of the Lord is the feast of the soul."

Hugh Lilburn was present among the guests of the evening, and before the
finishing of the first verse, the voices seemingly coming from the water
had been recognized by more than one of the company as those of his father
and himself. As the last notes died upon the air, a solemn silence again
fell upon them all.

It was broken by Mrs. Travilla saying softly, and in tones tremulous with
emotion:

"I have always loved that hymn of Muhlenberg's. Ah, who would wish to live
alway in this world of sin and sorrow, never entering, never seeing, the
many mansions Jesus has gone to prepare for those that love him?"

As the last word left her lips, the seemingly distant voices again rose in
song, the words coming distinctly to every ear:

"Jerusalem the golden,
With milk and honey blest,
Beneath thy contemplation
Sink heart and voice opprest.
I know not, O I know not
What joys await us there,
What radiancy of glory,
What bliss beyond compare.

"They stand, those halls of Zion,
All jubilant with song,
And bright with many an angel,
And all the martyr throng.
The Prince is ever in them,
The daylight is serene;
The pastures of the blessed
Are decked in glorious sheen,

"There is the throne of David;
And there, from care released,
The shout of them that triumph,
The song of them that feast.
And they, who with their Leader,
Have conquered in the fight,
For ever and for ever
Are clad in robes of white.

"O sweet and blessed country,
The home of God's elect!
O sweet and blessed country,
That eager hearts expect!
Jesus, in mercy bring us
To that dear land of rest;
Who art, with God the Father,
And Spirit, ever blest,"

"Thank you very much, gentlemen," said Mildred as the last notes died
away. "What lovely words those are! Ah, they make one almost envious of
that dear woman who has already reached that happy land where sin and
sorrow are unknown."

"And death never enters," added Grandma Elsie low and feelingly. "Oh,
'blessed are the dead who die in the Lord.'"

CHAPTER XXII.

The wedding morning dawned bright and clear. All the invited guests who
had passed the night on shore were early arrivals upon the yacht, which
then immediately started across the lake, heading for Michigan City.

The crew had outdone themselves in making everything about the vessel even
more than ordinarily clean and bright, and everyone was arrayed in holiday
attire. The young men of the party had taken care to provide abundance of
flowers, especially for the saloon where the ceremony was to take place.

There they all assembled, drawn by the familiar strains of the Bridal
Chorus from "Lohengrin," played by Violet on the small pipe organ which
the captain's thoughtfulness had provided for his wife's amusement and his
own pleasure, as well as that of his daughters.

A hush fell upon them as Cyril entered and took his appointed place,
followed closely by the bridal party, which consisted of Mr. and Mrs.
Dinsmore and the bride and groom; Annis preferring to be without
bridesmaids, and Mr. Dinsmore having expressed a desire to take a
father's part and give her away.

The short and simple ceremony was soon over, and after the customary
congratulations and good wishes, all repaired to the dining saloon where
they partook of a delicious breakfast.

All this time the vessel was speeding on her way, and the lake being calm,
and such breeze as there was favorable, she made excellent headway,
carrying them into their port in good season for catching their trains
without being unpleasantly hurried.

Then the _Dolphin_ turned and retraced her course, arriving at her old
station near the Peristyle before nightfall; so that the returned
passengers were able to spend their evening, as usual, in the beautiful
Court of Honor.

Captain Raymond and his wife and daughters returned to the yacht rather
earlier than was their wont, and sat on its deck awaiting the coming of
the others.

"Papa," said Lucilla, breaking a momentary silence, "I have been wondering
why you took the cousins to Michigan City rather than to Pleasant Plains
as you did before."

"Because it would have taken a good deal longer to go to Pleasant Plains;
for which reason they preferred Michigan City, not wishing to take the
cars here because of the great crowds about the stations, causing much
inconvenience and some peril to those who must push their way through
them."

"I wondered that the bride and groom were willing to go on the cars at all
after hearing of the many accidents on the trains of late, papa," said
Grace.

"I trust they will not meet with any," said her father. "The crowds are
coming in this direction, and I think it is on those trains that most of
the accidents occur. But we will all pray for them, asking the Lord to
have them in his kind care and keeping."

"Yes, indeed, papa!" she replied, in earnest tones. "I am so glad that we
may, and that we know--because he has told us so--that he is the hearer
and answerer of prayer. Still I am glad we are not going home by rail."

"So am I," he said; "yet yachts are sometimes wrecked; and in fact there
is no place where we could be certain of safety except as our heavenly
Father cares for and protects us; and in his kind care and keeping we are
safe wherever we may be."

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