The Novels of Faith – Premium 7 Book Collection. Finley Martha
approvingly, "let her understand from the first that you are to be master; it is always the best plan."
"Excuse me, Dinsmore," said Travilla; "but I must say that I think a parent has no right to coerce a child into doing violence to its conscience."
"Nonsense!" replied his friend, a little angrily. "Elsie is entirely too young to set up her opinion against mine; she must allow me to judge for her in these matters for some years to come."
Eversham, who had been casting uneasy glances at Elsie all the afternoon, now drawing his chair near to Adelaide, said to her in an undertone, "Miss Adelaide, I am deeply sorry for the mischief I have unwittingly caused, and if you can tell me how to repair it you will lay me under lasting obligations."
Adelaide shook her head. "There is no moving Horace when he has once set his foot down," she said; "and as to Elsie, I doubt whether any power on earth can make her do what she considers wrong."
"Poor little thing!" said Eversham, sighing; "where in the world did she get such odd notions?"
"Partly from a pious Scotch woman, who had a good deal to do with her in her infancy, and partly from studying the Bible, I believe. She is always at it."
"Indeed!" and he relapsed into thoughtful silence.
Another hour passed slowly away, and then the tea-bell rang.
"Elsie," asked her father, coming to her side, "are you ready to obey me now? if so, we will wait a moment to hear the song, and then you can go to your tea with us."
"Dear papa, I cannot break the Sabbath," she replied, in a low, gentle tone, without lifting her head.
"Very well then, I cannot break my word; you must sit there until you will submit; and until then you must fast. You are not only making yourself miserable by your disobedience and obstinacy, Elsie, but are mortifying and grieving me very much," he added in a subdued tone, that sent a sharp pang to the loving little heart, and caused some very bitter tears to fall, as he turned away and left her.
The evening passed wearily away to the little girl; the drawing-room was but dimly lighted, for the company had all deserted it to wander about the grounds, or sit in the portico enjoying the moonlight and the pleasant evening breeze, and the air indoors seemed insupportably close and sultry. At times Elsie could scarcely breathe, and she longed intensely to get out into the open air; every moment her seat grew more uncomfortable and the pain in her head more severe: her thoughts began to wander, she forgot where she was, everything became confused, and at length she lost all consciousness.
Several gentlemen, among whom were Mr. Horace Dinsmore and Mr. Travilla, were conversing together on the portico, when they were suddenly startled by a sound as of something falling.
Travilla, who was nearest the door, rushed into the drawing-room, followed by the others.
"A light! quick, quick, a light!" he cried, raising Elsie's insensible form in his arms; "the child has fainted."
One of the others, instantly snatching a lamp from a distant table, brought it near, and the increased light showed Elsie's little face, ghastly as that of a corpse, while a stream of blood was flowing from a wound in the temple, made by striking against some sharp corner of the furniture as she fell.
She was a pitiable sight indeed, with her fair face, her curls, and her white dress all dabbled in blood.
"Dinsmore, you're a brute!" exclaimed Travilla indignantly, as he placed her gently on a sofa.
Horace made no reply, but, with a face almost as pale as her own, bent over his little daughter in speechless alarm, while one of the guests, who happened to be a physician, hastily dressed the wound, and then applied restoratives.
It was some time ere consciousness returned, and the father trembled with the agonizing fear that the gentle spirit had taken its flight.
But at length the soft eyes unclosed, and gazing with a troubled look into his face, bent so anxiously over her, she asked, "Dear papa, are you angry with me?"
"No, darling," he replied in tones made tremulous with emotion, "not at all."
"What was it?" she asked in a bewildered way; "what did I do? what has happened?"
"Never mind, daughter," he said, "you have been ill; but you are better now, so don't think any more about it."
"She had better be put to bed at once," said the physician.
"There is blood on my dress," cried Elsie, in a startled tone; "where did it come from?"
"You fell and hurt your head," replied her father, raising her gently in his arms; "but don't talk any more now."
"Oh! I remember," she moaned, an expression of keen distress coming over her face; "papa—"
"Hush! hush! not a word more; we will let the past go," he said, kissing her lips. "I shall carry you to your room now, and see you put to bed."
He held her on his knee, her head resting on his shoulder, while Chloe prepared her for rest.
"Are you hungry, daughter?" he asked.
"No, papa; I only want to go to sleep."
"There, Aunt Chloe, that will do," he said, as the old nurse tied on the child's night-cap; and raising her again in his arms, he carried her to the bed and was about to place her on it.
"Oh papa! my prayers first, you know," she cried eagerly.
"Never mind them to-night," said he, "you are not able."
"Please let me, dear papa," she pleaded; "I cannot go to sleep without."
Yielding to her entreaties, he placed her on her knees, and stood beside her, listening to her murmured petitions, in which he more than once heard his own name coupled with a request that he might be made to love Jesus.
When she had finished, he again raised her in his arms, kissed her tenderly several times, and then laid her carefully on the bed, saying, as he did so, "Why did you ask, Elsie, that I might love Jesus?"
"Because, papa, I do so want you to love Him; it would make you so happy; and besides, you cannot go to heaven without it; the Bible says so."
"Does it? and what makes you think I don't love Him?"
"Dear papa, please don't be angry," she pleaded, tearfully, "but you know Jesus says, 'He that keepeth my commandments, he it is that loveth me.'"
He stooped over her. "Good night, daughter," he said.
"Dear, dear papa," she cried, throwing her arm round his neck, and drawing down his face close to hers, "I do love you so very, very much!"
"Better than anybody else?" he asked
"No, papa, I love Jesus best; you next."
He kissed her again, and with a half sigh turned away and left the room. He was not entirely pleased; not quite willing that she should love even her Saviour better than himself.
Elsie was very weary, and was soon asleep. She waked the next morning feeling nearly as well as usual, and after she had had her bath and been dressed by Chloe's careful hands, the curls being arranged to conceal the plaster that covered the wound on her temple, there was nothing in her appearance, except a slight paleness, to remind her friends of the last night's accident.
She was sitting reading her morning chapter when her father came in, and taking a seat by her side, lifted her to his knee, saying, as he caressed her tenderly, "My little daughter is looking pretty well this morning; how does she feel?"
"Quite well, thank you, papa," she replied, looking up into his face with a sweet, loving smile.
He raised the curls to look at the wounded temple; then, as he dropped them again, he said, with a shudder, "Elsie, do you know that you were very near being killed last night?"
"No, papa, was I?" she asked with an awe-struck countenance.
"Yes, the doctor says if that wound had