Elsie's Motherhood Part 48

"Oh! oh! pull it down again! pull it down! pull it down! I only got in for fun, and I'm so frightened! I shall fall out! I shall be killed! oh!

oh! oh!"

The voice grew fainter and fainter, till it quickly died away in the distance as the balloon rose rapidly higher and higher into the deep blue of the sky.

A wild excitement seized upon the little crowd.

"Oh, oh, oh I which ob de chillins am up dar?" the mammies were asking, each sending a hasty glance around the throng to a.s.sure herself of the safety of her own particular charge.

"Who is it? who is it?" asked the children, the little girls beginning to sob and cry.

"Oh it's Fank! it's Fank!" screamed Harold. "Papa, papa, please stop it quick. Fank, don't cry, any more: papa will get you down. Won't you, papa?" And he clung to his father's arm, sobbing bitterly.

"Son, Frank is not there," said Mr. Travilla; taking the little weeper in his arms. "There is no one in the balloon; it is not big enough to hold even a little boy like you or Frank."

"Isn't it, papa?" returned the child, dropping his head on his father's shoulder with a sigh of relief.

"Oh it's Cousin Ronald, it's just Cousin Ronald!" exclaimed the children, their tears changing at once to laughter.

"Ah ha, ah ha! um h'm, um h'm! so it is, bairnies, just Cousin Ronald at his old tricks again," laughed Mr. Lilburn.

"Oh there's n.o.body in it; so we needn't care how high it goes," cried Eddie, jumping and clapping his hands, "See! see! it's up in the clouds now, and doesn't look as big as my cap."

"Not half so big, I should say," remarked Herbert. "And there, it's quite gone."

The dinner bell rang and all repaired to the dining-room.

Chapter Twenty-sixth.

"Train up a child in the way he should go; and when he is old, he will not depart from it."

--PROVERBS, xxii: 6.

As naturally as the helianthus to the sun, did the faces of Elsie's little ones turn to her when in her loved presence. At the table, at their sports, their lessons, everywhere and however employed, it was always the same, the young eyes turning ever and anon to catch the tender, sympathetic glance of mamma's.

But at dinner to-day, Vi's great blue orbs met hers but once and instantly dropped upon her plate again, while a vivid blush suffused the fair face and neck.

And when the meal was ended and all gathered in the drawing-room, Vi still seemed to be unlike her usual gay, sunny self, the merriest prattler of all the little crowd of children, the one whose sweet silvery laugh rang out the oftenest. She stood alone at a side table turning over some engravings, but evidently with very little interest.

The mother, engaged in conversation with the other ladies, watched her furtively, a little troubled and anxious, yet deeming it best to wait for a voluntary confidence on the part of her child.

Longing, yet dreading to make it, Vi was again puzzling her young brain with the question whether Meta was right in saying it would be selfish to do so. Ah, if she could only ask mamma which was the right way to do!

This was the first perplexity she had not been able to carry to her for disentanglement.

Remembering the words of the Lord Jesus, "Sanctify them through thy truth: thy word is truth," Elsie had been careful to store her children's minds with the blessed teachings and precious promises of G.o.d's holy Book. She had also taught them to go to G.o.d their heavenly Father, with every care, sorrow, doubt and difficulty.

"I'll ask Jesus," thought Vi; "he'll help me to know, because the Bible says, 'If any of you lack wisdom, let him ask of G.o.d that giveth to all men liberally and upbraideth not; and it shall be given him.'"

She slipped into an adjoining room, where she was quite alone, and kneeling down, whispered softly, with low sobs and many tears, "Dear Father in heaven, I've been a very, very naughty girl; I disobeyed my dear mamma; please forgive me for Jesus' sake and make me good. Please Lord Jesus, help me to know if I ought to tell mamma."

A text--one of the many she had learned to recite to her mother in that precious morning half hour--came to her mind as she rose from her knees.

"He that covereth his sins shall not prosper: but whoso confesseth and forsaketh them shall have mercy."

"I didn't cover them;" she said to herself, "I told G.o.d: but then G.o.d knew all about it before; he sees and knows everything; but mamma doesn't know. Perhaps it means I musn't cover them from her. I think Jesus did tell me."

Wiping away her tears she went back into the drawing-room. The gentlemen were just leaving it, her father among the rest. A sudden resolution seized her and she ran after them.

"Papa!"

He turned at the sound of her voice. "Well daughter?"

"I--I just want to ask you something."

"Another time then, pet, papa's in a hurry now."

But seeing the distress in the dear little face he came to her and laying his hand on her head in tender fatherly fas.h.i.+on, said, "Tell papa what it is that troubles you. I will wait to hear it now."

"Papa," she said, choking down a sob, "I--I don't know what to do."

"About what, daughter?"

"Papa, s'pose--s'pose I'd done something naughty, and--and it would grieve dear mamma to hear it; ought I to tell her and--and make her sorry?"

"My dear little daughter," he said bending down to look with grave, tender eyes into the troubled face, "never, _never_ conceal anything from your mother; it is not safe for you, pet; and she would far rather bear the pain of knowing. If our children knew how much, how very much we both love them, they would never want to hide anything from us."

"Papa, I don't; but--somebody says it would be selfish to hurt mamma so."

"The selfishness was in doing the naughty thing, not in confessing it.

Go, my child, and tell mamma all about it."

He hastened away, and Violet crept back to the drawing-room.

The other children were leaving it. "Come, Vi," they said, "we're going for a walk."

"Thank you, I don't wish to go this time," she answered with gravity.

"I've something to attend to."

"What a grown up way of talking you have, you little midget," laughed Meta. Then putting her lips close to Vi's ear, "Violet Travilla," she whispered, "don't you tell tales, or I'll never, never play with you again as long as I live."

"My mamma says it's wicked to say that;" returned Vi, "and I don't tell tales."

Then as Meta ran away, Violet drew near her mother's chair.

Mamma was talking, and she must not interrupt, so she waited, longing to have the confession over, yet feeling her courage almost fail with the delay.

Elsie saw it all, and at length seized an opportunity while the rest were conversing among themselves, to take Vi's hand and draw her to her side.