CHAPTER XII.
When Edward and Zoe had retired to their own apartment on the breaking up of the company that evening, he led her up to a pier glass asking, “What do you think of the picture you see there, my dear?”
She gazed an instant, then, looking up at him with an arch smile and a charming blush, “I think the gentleman is extremely handsome,” she said.
“I was thinking of the lady,” he laughed, drawing her closer to his side and bending to kiss the ruby lips. “You make a bonny bride, my darling; even bonnier than you did when first you gave me the right to call you mine. Look again, and tell me if you are not entirely satisfied with your own appearance in bridal array?”
She obeyed, again gazing intently for a moment, smiling and blushing with gratification, for it was a very lovely face and figure she saw reflected in the mirror.
“Wouldn’t you have liked to have me dressed just so when we were married, dearNed?” she asked, with another glance up into his face.
“Yes, sweet one, if it might have been. And yet it could hardly have made us happier at the present time than we are now.”
“No; and yet I should have preferred a happier bridal than we had. I can never think of it without remembering the bitter sorrow that came to me at the same time. You were my only helper and comforter then, dear, dear Ned! and oh, how kind you were! But you know you were almost a stranger, and I couldn’t love and trust you as I have learned to do in these years that we have lived together. I was grateful to you then (though not half so grateful as I should have been), but half afraid of you too. But I don’t fear you now; no, not a bit,” she concluded with a light and happy laugh.
“I hope not, indeed,” he said, “‘perfect love casteth out fear.’ How have you enjoyed yourself to-night?”
“Very much indeed. I think we gave mamma a pleasant surprise with our tableaux. She hasn’t a particle of prying curiosity about her, and we were quite successful in keeping our intentions in regard to them a secret from her.”
“Yes, I know; and she told me it was a great treat to her to see her three daughters in bridal attire; that in her eyes they all looked very lovely, very bride-like.”
“It’s so nice in her to include me with the others; she is and always has been a real mother to me ever since the day you brought me to Ion. Well, I suppose I must doff my finery, for it is growing late.”
“Yes, for to-night; but you must don it again some time for my benefit, if for no one else’s.”
There were new sports for the next day, and the next, in most of which Harold and Herbert, the captain and Violet, Edward and Zoe, and sometimes even Grandma Elsie, took part, and that in a way to make it extremely satisfactory to the children, entering heartily into the fun and frolic, enjoying it, apparently, if not really, as much as the youngest of the company.
Almost entire harmony had prevailed until the last evening but one; then there was a slight unpleasantness.
Lulu and the five girls who were her especial guests were seated about a table engaged in playing “Letters.”
I presume the game is familiar to all my young readers. The player who can make the largest number of words wins the game, and each draws a letter in turn from a heap in the centre of the table, thrown promiscuously together, and is bound to select hap-hazard, not seeing what the letter may be till it is chosenand can not be exchanged for another more to the player’s liking.
“Dear me!” cried Sydney Dinsmore, when the game had been going on for some time, “Rosie is going to win for certain. Just see! she has more words than any body else; but I’d like to know how it is that she always hits upon a vowel, while I get nothing but consonants and of course can’t make out my words.”
“That’s a mistake, Syd,” said Rosie, coloring deeply as she spoke. “I don’t always get a vowel.”
“No, you don’t always want one, but when you do, you get it.”
“So might any body who was mean enough to peep and find out what the letter is before she takes it,” remarked Lora in a half-jesting tone; whereat the color on Rosie’s cheek deepened still more; then catching a scornful glance from Lulu’s dark eyes, she rose hastily, pushing back her chair.
“If I am suspected of such doings,” she said in tones trembling with anger and chagrin, “I’ll not play any more.”
“Oh now, Rosie, sit down and finish your game,” said Evelyn persuasively, “I’m sure no one really suspects you of such dishonesty.”
“Then let them say so,” returned Rosie. But no one spoke, and turning haughtily away, she left them.
“Oh girls, why didn’t you speak?” exclaimed Evelyn, always inclined to be a peacemaker. “Let me run after her and tell her that of course you don’t suspect her of any such thing.”
“I can’t,” said Sydney, “for it wouldn’t be true. I saw her peep.”
“And so did——” began Lulu, but raising her eyes while the words were on her tongue, and catching a glance of grave displeasure from her father, who, noticing that something was amiss among the players, had drawn near and was now standing opposite her on the other side of the table, she broke off suddenly, leaving her sentence unfinished.
Her eyes fell and her cheeks flushed hotly under his glance, but he turned and moved away without speaking, and the game went on, but with less enjoyment than before on the part of the young players.
Lulu particularly, troubled by a consciousness that she was no longer in full favor with her dearly-loved father, had almost lost her interest in it.
Rosie was still more uncomfortable, knowing that Sydney’s and Lora’s accusation was not undeserved, but she was far too proud to own it just.
She sauntered into an adjoining room, where the little ones were engaged in a game of romps, and was soon in their midst apparentlythe merriest of the merry, but in fact only making a determined effort to drown the reproaches of conscience, for no one so carefully trained in the knowledge of right and wrong as she had been, could be guilty of even the smallest act of dishonesty and deception without suffering in that way.
She, however, gave no sign of it till, on reaching their sleeping apartment, her mother turned to her with the most sadly reproachful look she had ever bestowed upon her.
Rosie’s eyes sought the floor, while her cheeks burned with blushes. She had not thought “mamma” knew any thing about her wrong doing, yet certainly she must, else why was her look so grieved and reproving.
Neither spoke for a moment, then, sighing deeply, Elsie said, “Can it be true that my dear, youngest daughter has been guilty of fraud and deception?”
“Who told—why do you have such an idea, mamma?” stammered Rosie in confusion. “I—I never thought you’d believe any thing so bad of me!” and she burst into a perfect passion of tears and sobs; a most unusual thing for her.
“O Rosie, my dear child,” her mother answered in tones tremulous with grief and affection, “I do not want to believe it; I can hardly bear to do so, and yet I must fear itis true till I hear the assurance from your own lips that it is not.”
“Mamma, who has been carrying tales about me to you?” cried Rosie with great show of indignation, “I did not think any body would be so mean; no, not even Lulu!”
“Rosie! Rosie!” exclaimed her mother in a tone that, for her, was very severe, “How can you so wrong Lulu? She is passionate, but I have never known her to be guilty of meanness. I have heard nothing from her to your discredit; but I did overhear a little talk between some of the others about your having cheated in a game, or perhaps more than one, and growing angry and forsaking their company, when accused of it.”
“Well, mamma, hadn’t I a right to be indignant at such an accusation!”
“Not if it were just and true, my daughter.” There was no response to the half questioning rejoinder and after waiting a moment, Elsie asked, “Was it true, Rosie?”
“Mamma, why do you—how can you ask me such insulting questions?” sobbed Rosie, hiding her face in her hands while a crimson tide mounted to her very hair.
“It pains me more than I can express to do so,” sighed her mother; “but if conscious of innocence, my dear child, say so at once, and your mother will believe you.” She paused and waited for an answer.
For a few moments Rosie seemed to have a hard struggle with herself, then she sobbed, “I can’t, mamma, because—because it is true; I did peep to see what the letters were; and—and before that when we were playing hide-and-seek, and Lulu was hiding the slipper. But oh mamma, don’t look so dreadfully grieved! I didn’t really think how very wrong it was.”
Tears were coursing down Elsie’s cheeks and her bosom heaved with emotion.
“Oh mamma, dear mamma, don’t! I can’t bear to see you cry because of my wrong-doing,” sobbed Rosie, dropping on her knees by her mother’s side and throwing her arms around her.
“It almost breaks my heart, my child, to learn that one of my darlings has stepped so far aside from the path of rectitude,” returned her mother in tremulous tones, “for though you have spoken no untruthful word, you have been both untrue and dishonest in act.”
“Mamma, mamma, how can you be so cruel as to tell me that?” Rosie exclaimed, hiding her face in her mother’s lap and sobbing convulsively.
“Faithful are the wounds of a friend,” her mother said tenderly, and softly smoothing the weeper’s hair. “I must show you your sin in all its heinousness that you may see it to be hateful, repent of and forsake it, and go to Jesus for pardon and cleansing.”
“I am sorry, mamma, I don’t ever intend to do so again; I’ll confess it to God, and I have confessed it to you.”
“And do you think that is enough, my daughter?”
“O mamma, don’t say I must own it to the girls!” she entreated, “I couldn’t bear to!”
“I perceive that your conscience is telling you you ought, and I hope it will not be necessary for me to add a must,” Elsie said very gently and kindly.
Rosie was exceedingly reluctant; it seemed the hardest requirement her mother had ever made, but at length a promise of obedience was won from her and she went to bed to cry herself to sleep over the humiliation she must submit to on the morrow.
While she and her mother were talking thus together, Lulu had made ready for bed and received a visit from her father. She met him with a wistful pleading look and the query, “Papa, are you displeased with me?”
He did not answer immediately, but sitting down drew her to his knee, smoothed the hair back from her forehead and kissed her gravely. “Not very seriously, daughter,” he said at last, “but what was the trouble between Rosie and the rest of you? Sydney seemed to be accusing her of some unfair dealing, and you, I thought, were beginning a sentence of the same import.”
“Yes, papa, I was; and I’m glad you stopped me before I’d said what I was going to,” Lulu answered, coloring and dropping her eyes.
“And a moment before she left your circle I saw you give her a very scornful look. Do you think that was right or kind? especially remembering that she is your guest?”
“No, sir,” acknowledged Lulu. “But, papa, I will try to do better if you just won’t be vexed with me.”
“I can ask nothing more than that promise, and am not at all vexed with you now, my darling,” he said, repeating his caress.
“Oh, I’m glad!” she exclaimed, hugging him and returning his kiss. “Papa, do you think I would ever cheat at play, and so win the game unfairly? and if I should, wouldn’t you think I was every bit as bad as if I flew into a passion?”
“Yes, quite as bad, quite as deserving of punishment; but I do not think you would be guilty of any thing of the kind, and it has always been a great comfort to me to be able to believe my little daughter Lulu a perfectly honest and truthful child.”
“Dear papa, thank you!” she said, her face lighting up with joy and love.
“It is a great pleasure to me to speak words of commendation to you,” he responded; “as great a pain to have to reprove and punish you.So, dear child, if you love your father, try to be good.”
“Don’t you know that I love you, papa?” she asked, smiling into his eyes.
“Yes,” he said, holding her close, “I haven’t the least doubt of it. Now, good-night. Get to bed and to sleep as soon as you can.”
“There, now; I know papa wouldn’t think Rosie a bit better child than I am if he knew all I do about her,” Lulu said to herself, with great satisfaction, as he went from the room and the door closed upon him.
Rosie seemed strangely quiet and depressed the next morning, and to avoid meeting the glance of her mates.
“I guess she’s ashamed of herself,” remarked Sydney, in an aside to Lora, “and she ought to be.”
“Of course she ought,” said Lora. “Who would ever have believed that a child of Cousin Elsie’s would cheat at play? I think Rosie has always had a very good opinion of herself, and perhaps it will do her good to find out that she’s no better than other folks, after all. She’s been hard on Lu Raymond, about her temper, you know; but I must say I like Lu best, though she is no kin to me.”
She involuntarily glanced toward Rosie, standing by a window on the farther side of the room, as she spoke, and their eyes met.
Rosie’s instantly sought the floor, while her cheeks flushed crimson.
It was shortly after breakfast and family worship, and they were in the parlor where the trouble began the night before; just the girls themselves and no one else; and Rosie perceived that there could be no better time than the present for her acknowledgment.
But how should she make it? “Oh,” she thought, “it’s the very hardest thing I ever had to do!”
Then summoning all her courage, she spoke in low, faltering tones, her head drooping, her whole face and even her neck crimson with blushes.
“Girls, I—I own that Syd was right in what she said last night; Lora too; and that besides, I did look when I was supposed to be hiding my eyes in the other games.”
She ended with a burst of tears, half turning her back upon her companions, as if too much mortified to meet their glances.
There was a moment of surprised silence, in which no one either moved or spoke; then Eva said, in a kindly, sympathizing tone:
“It is noble in you to own it, Rosie; so I think we should all love you more than ever.”
“Yes,” said Lulu, hurrying to Rosie’s side, and putting her arms affectionately about her, “so we will, Rosie, dear; so don’t cry. I’msure you don’t intend ever to do any thing of the kind again, and we’ll all forget about it directly, won’t we, girls?”
“We’ll try,” they answered, Sydney adding, “So dry your eyes, coz, and don’t let us spoil our good times by fretting over what’s done and can’t be helped.”
“It will do for you to feel that way,” sobbed Rosie, “all of you that haven’t been doing wrong; but I ought to be ashamed and sorry whenever I think about it.”
“Don’t think about it, then,” said Sydney, in a jesting tone, “I wouldn’t.”
“And we won’t,” added Lulu, squeezing Rosie’s hand affectionately.
“Lu, you’re very good,” murmured Rosie, close to Lulu’s ear, “and I haven’t been kind and charitable to you when you were in disgrace, even when it was partly my fault that you had done wrong.”
“Never mind; I hope we are not going to vex each other any more,” returned Lulu; and just then Zoe came running in to say that some new tableaux had been thought of, in which they were all to have more or less part, and they were wanted at once in Violet’s boudoir.