Elsie's Vacation and After Events Part 17

"I know it, dear father, and can leave them to your and their heavenly Father's care without a doubt or fear," she said, with a gentle sigh over the thought of the parting with her darlings that might be so near.

She went on to speak of some business matters, then said: "I think that is all, papa. I do not care to make any alteration in my will; and, as you know, you and brother Horace are my executors. To-morrow I must have a little talk with each of my children, and then I shall be ready for Arthur and his a.s.sistants.

"I want all my children near at hand in case of an unfavorable result and that I am able to say a few last words, bidding them all farewell."

There was again a moment of silence, her father seeming too much overcome to speak; then she went on: "I think they must not be told to-night, that the two younger ones need know nothing of the danger till the morning of the operation. I would spare them all the suffering of antic.i.p.ation that I can; and were I but sure, quite sure, of going safely through it all, they should know nothing of it till afterward; but I cannot rob them of a few last words with their mother."

"My darling! always unselfish, always thinking of others first!" Mr.

Dinsmore said, in moved tones, bending over her and pressing his lips again and again to her pale cheek and brow.

"Surely almost any mother would think of her children before herself,"

she returned with a sweet, sad smile.

But just at that instant childish footsteps were heard in the hall without, then a gentle rap on the door, and Walter's voice asking, "Mamma, may I come in?"

"Yes, my son," she answered, in cheerful tones, and in a moment he was at her side, asking, in some alarm and anxiety, "Mamma, dear, are you sick?" bending over her as he spoke, and pressing ardent kisses upon cheek and lip and brow.

"Not very, mother's darling baby boy," she answered, lifting to his eyes full of tender mother love.

"'Baby boy?'" repeated Walter, with a merry laugh, gently smoothing her hair, and patting her cheek lovingly, while he spoke. "Mamma, dear, have you forgotten that I am eleven years old?"

"No, dear; but for all that you are still mother's dear, dear baby boy!"

she said, hugging him close.

"Well, I shan't mind your calling me that, you dearest mamma," laughed Walter, repeating his caresses; "but n.o.body else must do it."

"Not even grandpa?" queried Mr. Dinsmore, with a proudly affectionate smile into the bright young face.

"I don't think you'd want to, grandpa," returned the lad, "because, you know, you're always telling me I must try to be a manly boy. But I came up to remind you and mamma that it's time for prayers. Grandma sent me to do so and to ask if you could both come down now."

"You will not think of going down, Elsie?" Mr. Dinsmore exclaimed in surprise, as his daughter made a movement as if to rise from her couch.

"Yes, papa," she returned. "I have been resting here for some hours and feel quite able to join the family now. I am not in pain at this moment, and Arthur said nothing about keeping to my room."

"Then I wouldn't, mamma," said Walter, slipping his hand into hers. "I'm sure Cousin Arthur's always ready enough to order us to keep to our rooms if there's any occasion. I'm glad he doesn't think you sick enough to have to do that."

His mother only smiled in reply, and, taking her father's offered arm, moved on in the direction of the stairway, Walter still clinging to her other hand.

Anxious looks and inquiries greeted her on their entrance into the parlor, where family and servants were already gathered for the evening service; but she parried them all with such cheery words and bright sweet smiles as set their fears at rest for the time.

But those of Edward were presently rearoused as--the younger members of the family and the servants having retired from the room--he noticed a look of keen, almost anguished anxiety, bestowed by his grandfather upon his mother; then that her cheek was unusually pale.

"Mother dear, you are not well!" he exclaimed, hastily rising and going to her.

"No, not quite, my dear boy," she replied, smiling up at him; "but do not look so distressed; none of us can expect always to escape all illness. I am going back to my room now and, though able to do so without a.s.sistance, will accept the support of the arm of my eldest son, if it is offered me."

"Gladly, mother dear, unless you will let me carry you; which I am fully able to do."

"Oh, no, Ned," she said laughingly, as she rose and put her hand within his arm; "the day may possibly come when I shall tax your young strength to that extent, but it is not necessary now. Papa, dear," turning to him, "shall I say good-night to you now?"

"No, no," Mr. Dinsmore answered, with some emotion, "I shall step into your rooms for that as it is on my way to my own."

"I, too," said Mrs. Dinsmore; "and perhaps you will let me play the nurse for you if you are not feeling quite well."

"Thank you very much, mamma. In case your kind services are really needed I shall not hesitate to let you know. And I am always glad to see you in my rooms."

"Mother, you are actually panting for breath!" Edward exclaimed when they were half-way up the stairs. "I shall carry you," and taking her in his arms as he spoke, he bore her to her boudoir and laid her tenderly down on its couch. "Oh, mother dear," he said, in quivering tones, "tell me all. Why should your eldest son be shut out from your confidence?"

"My dear boy," she answered, putting her hand into his, "can you not rest content till to-morrow? Why should you think that anything serious ails me?"

"Your pale looks and evident weakness," he said, "grandpa's distressed countenance as he turns his eyes on you, and the unusually sober, serious look of Cousin Arthur as I met him pa.s.sing out of the house to-night. He had been with you, had he not?"

"Yes, my son, and I meant that you and your sisters should know all to-morrow or the next day. It is only for your own sake I would have had you spared the knowledge till then."

"Dearest mother, tell me all now," he entreated; "for surely no certainty can be worse than this dreadful suspense."

"No, I suppose not," she replied in sorrowful tones, her eyes gazing into his, full of tenderest mother love. Then in a few brief sentences she told him all.

"Oh, mother dear; dearest mother!" he cried, clasping her close, "if I, your eldest son, might but take and bear it all--the pain and the danger--for you, how gladly I would do so!"

"I do not doubt it, my own dear boy," she returned, in moved tones, "but it cannot be; each of us must bear his or her own burden and I rejoice that this is mine rather than that of my dear son. Do not grieve for me; do not be too anxious; remember that he whose love for me is far greater than any earthly love appoints it all, and it shall be for good. 'We know that all things work together for good to them that love G.o.d.'

Blessed, comforting a.s.surance! And how sweet are those words of Jesus, 'What I do thou knowest not now; but thou shalt know hereafter!'"

"Yes, dearest mother," he said, with emotion, "and for you it will be all joy, the beginning of an eternity of bliss, if it shall please him to take you to himself; but oh, how hard it will be for your children to learn to live without you! But I will hope and pray that the result may be for you restored health and a long and happy life."

For some moments he held her in a close embrace, then, at the sound of approaching footsteps in the hall without, laid her gently down upon her pillows.

"Keep it from Zoe for to-night, if possible," she said softly. "Dear little woman! I would not have her robbed of her night's rest."

"I will try, mother dear," he said, pressing his lips again and again to hers. "G.o.d grant you sweet and refreshing sleep, but oh, do not for a moment hesitate to summon me if there is anything I can do to relieve you, should you be in pain, or to add in any way to your comfort."

She gave the desired promise and he stole softly from the room; but not to join his wife till some moments of solitude had enabled him so to conquer his emotion that he could appear before her with a calm and untroubled countenance.

Mr. and Mrs. Dinsmore pa.s.sed into the boudoir as he left it. Rose had just learned from her husband of his talk of that evening with Dr.

Conly, and what the physician had then told him of his daughter's condition and the trial awaiting her in the near future.

Rose was full of sympathy for Elsie, and so overcome at the thought of the trial she must so soon pa.s.s through that she could scarcely speak.

They clung to each other in a long, tender embrace, Rose shedding tears, Elsie calm and quiet.

"You will let me be with you, dear Elsie?" she said at last. "Oh, how willingly I would help you bear it if I could!"

"Dear mamma, how kind you are and have always been to me!" exclaimed the low sweet voice. "Your presence will be a great support while consciousness remains, but after that I would have you spared the trial.

"Don't fear for me; I know that it will all be well. How glad I am that should I be taken you will be left to comfort my dear father and children. Yet I think that I shall be spared. Arthur holds out a strong hope of a favorable termination.

"So, dear father," turning to him and putting her hand in his, "be comforted. Be strong and of a good courage! Do not let anxiety for me rob you of your needed rest and sleep."

"For your dear sake, my darling, I will try to follow your advice," he answered, with emotion, as in his turn he folded her to his heart and bade her good-night.