Elsie's Widowhood. Finley Martha

hope not indeed!" she answered with emphasis. "It would be a sore grief to me. But I hardly fear it; I believe my boy is a Christian and loves purity: loves study too for its own sake. What I most fear for you is that the pride of intellect may lead you to listen to the arguments of sceptics and to examine their works. My son, if you should, you will probably regret it to your dying day. It can do you nothing but harm. If you fill your mind with such things your spiritual foes will take advantage of it to harass you with doubts and fears. 'Blessed is the man that walketh not in the counsel of the ungodly, nor standeth in the way of sinners, nor sitteth in the seat of the scornful.' He who would rob you of your faith in God and His holy word is your greatest enemy. Study the evidences of Christianity and be ever ready to give a reason for the hope that is in you."

      "Mother," he said, taking her hand in his, "I will heed your counsels, but it seems to me that having seen Christianity so beautifully exemplified in your life and my father's, I can never doubt its truth and power."

      Then after a pause in which tears of mingled joy and sorrow fell freely from her eyes, "Dear mother, you have given me a very liberal allowance. Can you spare it? I do not know, I have never known the amount of your income."

      "I can spare it perfectly well, my son," she answered, with a tender smile, pleased at this proof of his thoughtful love. "It is the sum your father thought best to give you – for we had consulted together about all these matters. I do not wish you to feel stinted, but at the same time would have you avoid waste and extravagance, remembering that they are inconsistent with our Saviour's teachings, and that money is one of the talents for whose use or abuse we must render an account at the last."

      CHAPTER VII

      "But O! for the touch of a vanished hand,

      And the sound of a voice that is still."

– Tennyson.

      It was a chill November day, a day of lowering clouds, wind, rain, sleet and snow.

      Arthur Conly coming into the drawing-room at Ion and finding its mistress there alone, remarked as he shook hands with her, "The beginning of winter, Cousin Elsie! It is setting in early. It froze hard last night, and the wind to-day is cutting."

      "Yes," she said, "even papa and my two big, hardy boys found a short walk quite sufficient to satisfy them to-day. But you poor doctors can seldom consult your own comfort in regard to facing wind and storm. Take this easy chair beside the fire."

      "Thank you, no; I shall find it quite warm enough on the sofa beside you. I am glad to have found you alone, for I want to have a little semi-confidential chat."

      She gave him an inquiring look.

      "I am a little uneasy about grandpa," he went on: "he seems feeble and has a troublesome cough, and I think should have a warmer climate through the coming winter. I think too, cousin, that such a change would be by no means hurtful to you or your children," he continued, regarding her with a grave, professional air: "you are a trifle thin and pale, and need something to rouse and stimulate you."

      "What is it you wish, Arthur?" she asked, with a slight tremble in her voice.

      "I should be glad if you would go to Viamede for the winter and take our grandfather with you."

      He paused for an answer.

      Her face was turned toward a window looking out upon the grounds; her eyes rested with mournful gaze upon a low mound of earth within a little enclosure not many rods away.

      Arthur read her thoughts, and laying a gentle hand on hers, said in low compassionate tones:

      "He is not there, cousin, and his spirit will be as near you in your Lily's birthplace, and your own, as here. Is not that home also full of pleasant memories of him?"

      She gave a silent assent.

      "And you can take all your other dear ones with you."

      "Except Edward."

      "Yes, but in his case it will only involve a little delay in receiving letters. Your father and Aunt Rose I am certain will go with you. And our old grandpa – "

      "Is a dear old grandpa, and must not suffer anything I can save him from," she interrupted. "Yes, Arthur, I will go, if – if my father approves and will accompany us, of which I have no doubt."

      He thanked her warmly. "It may be the saving of grandpa's life," he said.

      "He is getting very old, Arthur."

      "Yes, past eighty, but with care he may live to be a hundred; he has a naturally vigorous constitution. And how he mellows with age, Elsie! He has become a very lovely Christian, as humble and simple-hearted as a little child."

      "Yes," she said turning toward him eyes filled with glad tears, "and he has become very dear to me. I think he loves us all – especially papa – and that we shall have a happy winter together."

      "I don't doubt it; in fact, I quite envy you the prospect."

      "Oh could you not go with us to stay at least a few weeks? We should all be so very glad to have you."

      "Quite impossible," he said, shaking his head rather ruefully. "I'm greatly obliged, and should be delighted to accept your invitation, but it isn't often a busy doctor can venture to take such a holiday."

      "I'm very sorry. But you think there is no doubt that grandpa will be willing to go?"

      "He'll not hesitate a moment if he hears Uncle Horace is to go. He clings to him now more than to any other earthly creature."

      "Papa is in the library; shall we join him and hear what he thinks of your plan?" said Elsie, rising.

      "By all means," returned Arthur, and they did so.

      Mr. Dinsmore highly approved, as did Rose also on being called in to the conference.

      "How soon do you think of starting?" she asked, looking at Elsie, then at her husband.

      "Papa should decide that," Elsie answered, a slight tremble in her voice, thinking of the absent one to whom that question should have been referred were his dear presence still with them.

      She caught a look of tenderest love and sympathy from her father. How well he understood her! How ever thoughtful of her feelings he was!

      "I think the decision should rest with you, daughter," he said; "though I suppose the sooner the better."

      "Yes," said Arthur; "for grandpa especially."

      "I presume no great amount of preparation will be needful, since it is but a change from one home to another," suggested Rose.

      "No," said Elsie, "and I think a week will suffice for mine. Papa, can business matters be arranged in that time?"

      "Oh yes! so we will say this day week."

      The door had opened very quietly a few moments before, admitting little Rose and Walter, and stealing softly to their mother's side they were now leaning on her lap, looking from one to another of their elders and listening with some curiosity to their conversation.

      "What is it, mamma?" asked Rosie.

      "We are talking of going to Viamede, dear."

      "Oh that will be nice!"

      "But we tan't doe wis-out papa," prattled Walter; "tan we, mamma? I wish my dear papa tum back quick."

      Rosie saw the pain in mamma's dear face, the tears in her eyes as she pressed a silent kiss on the brow of the innocent questioner, and with ready, loving tact she seized the little fellow's hand, and, drawing him away, "Come, Walter," she said, "let us go and tell the rest about it."

      They ran away together, and Arthur rose to take leave.

      "Am I imposing upon your unselfish kindness of heart, my dear cousin?" he asked in an undertone, taking Elsie's hand in his; "is it too great a sacrifice of your own feelings and inclinations?"

      She answered with a text, as was not unusual with her, "'Even Christ pleased not himself.'"

      Mr. and Mrs. Dinsmore were conversing apart at the moment.

      "Perhaps,"