Elsie's Kith and Kin Part 27

"You, too, shall say lessons to papa," he answered with tender look and tone. "Shall you like that?"

"Ever so much!" she exclaimed, lifting glad, s.h.i.+ning eyes to his face.

"Now you may go back to your play," he said, gently putting her off his knee. "I must go to your mamma and our poor, suffering baby."

He went; but the children lingered a while where they were, talking over this wonderfully good news.

"Now," said Max, "if Lu had only controlled her temper yesterday, what a happy family we'd be!"

"Yes," sighed Grace; "how I do wish she had! Oh, I'm so sorry for her, that she doesn't know this about papa going to stay with us all the time! 'Sides, she's 'specting to be sent away somewhere; and how dreadfully she must feel! Papa's punis.h.i.+ng her very hard, and very long; but of course he knows best, and he loves her."

"Yes, I'm sure he does," a.s.sented Max: "so he won't give her any more punishment than he thinks she needs. It'll be a fine thing for her, and all the rest of us too, if this hard lesson teaches her never to get into a pa.s.sion again."

Capt. Raymond had intended going to Lulu early in the day; but anxiety about the babe, and sympathy with Violet, kept him with them till late in the afternoon.

When at last he did go to his prisoner, he found her feverish with anxiety and fear for the consequences of her mad act of the day before.

She had been longing for his coming, moving restlessly about the room, feeling that she could not endure the suspense another moment; had at length thrown herself into a chair beside the window, and, as was her wont in times of over-wrought feeling, buried her face on her folded arms, laid on the window-sill.

She started up wildly at the sound of his step and the opening of the door.

"Papa," she cried breathlessly, "O papa! what--what have you come to tell me? Is--is the baby"--

"She is living, but far from out of danger," he said, regarding her with a very grave, stern expression; but it softened as he marked the anguish in her face.

He sat down, and drew her to his knee, putting his arm about her waist, and with the other hand clasping one of hers.

He was startled to feel how hot and dry it was.

"My child!" he exclaimed, "you are not well."

She dropped her head on his shoulder, and burst into a pa.s.sion of tears and sobs. "Papa, papa! what shall I do if baby dies? Oh! I would do or bear any thing in the world to make her well."

"I don't doubt it, daughter," he said; "but a bitter lesson we all have to learn is, that we cannot undo the evil deeds we have done. Oh! let this dreadful occurrence be a warning to you to keep a tight rein upon your quick temper."

"Oh! I do mean to, indeed I do," she sobbed; "but that won't cure the dear baby's hurt. Papa, all day long I have been asking G.o.d to forgive me. Do you think he will?"

"I am sure that he has already done so, if you have asked with your heart, and for Jesus' sake. But we will ask him again for that, and to give you strength to fight against your evil nature as you never have fought, and to conquer."

"And to make the baby well, papa," she added sobbingly, as he knelt with her.

"Yes," he said.

When they had risen from their knees, he bade her get her hat and coat, saying, "You need fresh air and exercise. I will take you for a walk."

"I'd like to go, papa," she said; "but"--

"But what?"

"I--I'm afraid of--of meeting some of the family; and--and I don't want to see any of them."

"Perhaps we shall not meet them," he said; "and, if we do, you need not look toward them; and they will not speak to you. Put on your hat and coat at once: we have no time to lose."

She obeyed; and presently they were walking down the avenue, not having met any one on their way out of the house.

The captain moved on in silence, seemingly absorbed in sad thought, and hardly conscious that Lulu was by his side.

She glanced wistfully up into his grave, stern face two or three times, then said humbly, pleadingly, "Papa, please may I put my hand in yours?"

"Certainly," he said, looking down at her very kindly, as he took her hand, and held it in a warm, affectionate clasp. "Child, you have not lost your father's love. You are very dear to me, in spite of all your naughtiness."

He slackened his pace, for he saw she was finding it difficult to keep up with him; and his attention was again attracted to the heat of her hand.

"You are not well, perhaps not able to walk?" he said inquiringly, and in tenderly solicitous accents.

"It is pleasant to be out in the air, papa," she answered; "but it tires me a good deal more than usual."

"We will not go far, then," he said; "and, if your strength gives out before we get back to the house, I will carry you."

They were in the road now, some distance beyond the avenue-gates; and at this moment a number of hors.e.m.e.n came in sight, approaching from the direction opposite to that they were taking.

Perceiving them, Lulu uttered a sharp cry of terror, and shrank behind her father, though still clinging to his hand.

"What is it, daughter?" he asked in surprise: "what do you fear?"

"O papa, papa!" she sobbed, "are they coming to take me and put me in prison? Oh, don't let them have me!"

"Don't be frightened," he said soothingly. "Don't you see it is only some men who have been out hunting, and are going home with their game?"

"Oh! is that all?" she gasped, the color coming back to her face, which had grown deadly pale. "I thought it was the sheriff coming to put me in jail for hurting the baby. Will they do it, papa? Oh! you won't let them, will you?" she cried entreatingly.

"I could not protect you from the law," he said, in a moved tone; "but I think there is no danger that it will interfere. You did not hurt your sister intentionally, and she is still living. You are very young too; and, doubtless, everybody will think your punishment should be left to me, your father."

She was trembling like a leaf.

He turned aside to a fallen tree, sat down on it, and took her in his arms. She dropped her head on his shoulder, panting like a hunted thing.

"These two days have been too much for you," he said pityingly. "And that fear has tormented you all the time?"

"Yes, papa: oh, I thought I might have to be hung if baby died, and--it was--so--dreadful--to think I'd killed her--even if they didn't do any thing to me for it," she sobbed.

"Yes; very, very dreadful; perhaps more so to me--the father of you both--than to any one else," he groaned.

"Papa, I'm heart-broken about it," she sobbed "Oh, if I only could undo it!"

He was silent for a moment; then he said, "I know you are suffering very much from remorse; this is a bitter lesson to you; let it be a lasting one. I can relieve you of the fear of punishment from the law of the land; there is no danger of that now: but, if you do not lay this lesson to heart, there may come a time when that danger will be real; for there is no knowing what awful deed such an ungovernable temper as yours may lead you to commit.