CHAPTER XV.
The Dolphin's passengers retired early to their staterooms on that stormy Sunday night; that is, all of them except the captain and Lucilia. He was on the deck, and she sat in the saloon, reading and waiting for a little chat with her father before seeking her berth for the night. Presently she heard his approaching footsteps, and, closing her book, looked up at him with a glad smile.
"Ah, daughter, so you are here waiting for me as usual," he said in his kind, fatherly tones; and, taking a large easy-chair close at hand, he drew her to a seat upon his knee. "You haven't sat here for quite a while," he said, passing his arm about her and pressing his lips to her cheek.
"No, sir; and I am very glad to be allowed to do it again, big and old as I am," she returned, with a smile that was full of love and pleasure. "Oh, I am so glad—so glad every day that God gave me to you instead of to somebody else. I thank him for it very often."
"As I do," he said; "for I consider my dear eldest daughter one of
God's good gifts to me."
"Whenever I hear you say that, father, I feel ashamed of all my faults and follies and want—oh, so much—to grow wiser and better."
"I too need to grow better and wiser," he said; "and we must both ask daily and hourly to be washed from our sins in the precious blood of Christ—that fountain opened for sin and for uncleanness.
"'There is a fountain filled with blood,
Drawn from Immanuel's veins;
And sinners, plunged beneath that flood,
Lose all their guilty stains.'"
"Papa, I love that hymn, and am thankful to Cowper for writing it," she said.
"And so am I," he returned. "Oh, what gratitude we owe for the opening of that fountain! for the love of Christ that led him to die that painful and shameful death of the cross—that we might live. 'The love of Christ which passeth knowledge.'"
They were silent for a little; then he said, "It is growing late, daughter; it is quite time time that this one of my birdlings was in her nest. Give me my good-night kiss and go."
"Can I go to you on the deck in the morning, papa?" she asked as she prepared to obey.
"That depends upon the weather," he answered. "If it is neither raining nor blowing hard, you may; otherwise, you may not."
"Yes, sir; I'll be careful to obey," she said: with a loving smile up into his face.
All seemed quiet within and without when she awoke in the morning, and dressing speedily she stole out through the cabin, and up the stairway, till she could look out upon the deck. Her father was there, caught sight of her at once, and drew quickly near.
"Good-morning, daughter," he said; "you may come out here, for it is not raining just now, and the wind has fallen."
"Is the storm over, father, do you think?" she asked, hastening to his side.
"The worst of it certainly is, and I think it will probably clear before night."
"So that we can start on our homeward journey?"
"Yes," he answered; "but it will not be well to leave this safe harbor until we are quite certain of at least tolerably good weather."
"No, none of us would want to run any risk of shipwreck," she said; "and there isn't really anything to hurry us greatly about getting back to our homes."
"Nothing except the desire to see them and our dear ones there," he said; "and to delay that will be wiser than running any risk to bring it about sooner."
As he spoke he drew her hand within his arm, and they paced the deck to and fro for some time; then it began to rain again, and he bade her go below.
"Still raining, I believe," remarked Mr. Lilburn as they sat at the breakfast table.
"Yes," replied the captain; "but I think it will probably clear by noon."
"And then we will start on our return journey, I suppose?" said
Walter.
"Yes," said the captain, "that seems best, and I believe is according to the desire of all my passengers. It is your wish, mother, is it not?" turning to Grandma Elsie.
"I should like to get home soon now," she replied; "but shall not fret if we are still providentially detained."
The rain had ceased by the time they left the table, so that they were able to go on deck, take some exercise, and get a view of their surroundings.
By noon the indications were such that the captain considered it entirely safe to continue their journey. So steam was gotten up, and they were presently out of the harbor and making their way across the lake in the direction of the Welland Canal. Before sunset all the clouds had cleared away; the evening was beautiful, and so were the days that followed while they passed down the St. Lawrence River and out through the Gulf, then along the Atlantic coast, stopping only once, to let Walter leave them for Princeton.
It was quite a long voyage, and a very pleasant one; but everyone was glad when at length they reached the harbor of the city near their homes. They were expected, and found friends and carriages awaiting their coming.
Mr. Hugh Lilburn had come for his father and Annis, Edward Travilla for his mother and Evelyn, and the Woodburn carriage was there to take the captain and his family to their home.
"It is delightful to have you at home again, mother," Edward said as they drove off; "we have all been looking forward to your coming—from grandpa down to the babies that can hardly lisp your name."
"It is most pleasant to be so loved," she said with a joyful smile, "especially by those who are so dear as my father, children, and grandchildren are to me. Are all well at Fairview?"
"Yes, and looking forward, not to your return only, but to Evelyn's also. Lester was very busy, so asked me to bring her home to them; which I was very ready to do."
"And for which I feel very much obliged," said Evelyn. "I shall be very glad to get home, though I have had a delightful time while away."
They soon reached Fairview, and her welcome there was all she could
desire. Grandma Elsie was warmly welcomed too, but did not alight.
She felt in much too great haste to see her father and the others at
Ion.
On her arrival she found her daughter Rosie there also, and her presence added to the joy of the occasion.
Dinner was ready to be served, and Harold and Herbert had just come in from their professional rounds, so that the family reunion was almost complete. They missed Walter, but were glad to think of him as well, happy, and busied with his studies; and Elsie and Violet, though not just there, were near enough to be seen and conversed with almost any day. So it was altogether a cheerful and happy reunion, as was that of the family at Fairview.
Woodburn held no welcoming relatives for the Raymonds, but theirs was a glad home-coming, nevertheless. The grounds were in beautiful order, as was the dwelling under Christine's skilful management; and the dinner that awaited the returned travellers was abundant in quantity and variety, and the cooking such as might have found favor with an epicure.
"I think we are most fortunate people," said Violet as they sat at the table. "I know it isn't every family that can come home after weeks of absence to find everything in beautiful order and the table furnished with luxuries as is this one."
"Very true, my dear," said the captain; "we certainly have a great deal to be thankful for."
"Yes, papa, it is very pleasant to be at home again," said Elsie; "and when dinner is over mayn't we go all around and look at every one of the rooms, upstairs and down?"
"If you want to make the circuit of the house, I have no objection," he said.
"Yes, I do, papa," she answered. "I feel very much as if the rooms are old friends that I'm quite fond of."
"The schoolroom as well as the rest?" he asked with a look of amusement.
"Yes, indeed, papa, for you make lessons so pleasant that I'd be very, very sorry to be shut out of that room. Wouldn't you, Neddie?"
"Course I would," exclaimed Ned. "I love to be with papa, and I like the nice lessons. Papa often tells us a great deal that is very interesting."
"I am glad you think so," said his father. "We will visit the schoolroom, as well as the others, after we have finished our dinners."
"Will we have school to-morrow, papa?" asked Elsie.
"No; you may have the rest of the week for play, and we will begin lessons on Monday if nothing happens to prevent."
"We will take up our studies again, papa, just as the little ones do, will we not?" asked Lucilla.
"Meaning Grace and yourself, I suppose?" he said inquiringly, and with a look of amusement.
"Yes, sir; except Evelyn, we are your only other pupils just now."
"You can both begin when the younger ones do, if you like," he replied; and Grace said, "You may be quite sure we will like to do so, papa."
"Papa, when will Brother Max come home?" asked Ned.
"I think we may expect him about the last of next January," was the reply.
"And how soon does January come, papa?"
"This is October: November comes next, then December, and next after that is January."
"Oh, such a long while!" sighed Ned. "I want to see Max so badly that
I don't know how to wait."
"Pretty much the way papa feels about it," returned his father.
"And as we all do," said Violet. "I wish the dear fellow had chosen work that could be done at home."
"But somebody must go into the navy, my dear," said his father. "A good navy is very necessary for the safety of the country."
"That is true," she returned; "and I know of no more honorable employment."
"And employment of some kind we all should have. I know of nothing more ignoble than a life of idleness. It is sure to tempt to something worse. 'Satan finds some mischief still for idle hands to do.'"
"Yes," said Violet, "and the Bible bids us to be 'diligent in business, fervent in spirit, serving the Lord.'"
"And in the fourth commandment we are bidden, 'Six days shalt thou labor and do all thy work.' It makes no exception; recognizes no privileged class who may take their ease in idleness."
"Yet there are times when one is really weary, that rest is right, are there not?" said Violet. "I remember that at one time Jesus said to his disciples, 'Come ye yourselves apart into a desert place, and rest a while.'"
"Yes; there are times when rest is very necessary, and by taking it one is enabled to do more in the end."
"And we have just had a nice long rest," said Grace; "so ought to be able to go to work earnestly and make good progress in our studies."
"So I think," said Lucilla; then added laughingly, "and I'm glad father doesn't turn me out of the schoolroom because I've grown so big and old."
"You are still small enough, and young enough, to demean yourself as one under authority," remarked the captain in pleasant tones; "otherwise you would not be admitted to the schoolroom among my younger pupils."
Just then a rather discordant voice was heard calling, "Lu, Lu, what you 'bout? Polly wants a cracker."
"You shall have one presently, Polly," Lucilia answered.
"Oh, let's all go up there and see her," said Ned as they rose and left the table.
"Yes, we may as well begin there to make our circuit of the house," said his father; and they all hastened up the stairway to the apartments of Lucilla and Grace.
"I think Polly is glad to see us," said Elsie, as they stood for a moment watching her while she ate.
"A good deal more pleased to see and taste the cracker," said her father. "I doubt if parrots ever have much affection to bestow on anyone."
"Well, Polly," said Lulu, "nobody cares particularly for your affection; but in spite of your coldness and indifference, you shall have plenty to eat."
"Your rooms are in good order, daughters," said the captain, glancing about them. "I think Christine is an excellent housekeeper."
"So do I, father," said Lucilla. "We have only to unpack our trunks and put their contents in their proper places, and all will be as neat and orderly as before we left home."
"Yes, but we are going to visit the other parts of the house first," said Grace; "or we'll have to do it alone, which wouldn't be half so much fun as going along with papa and the rest."
They finished their inspection quickly, then set to work at their unpacking and arranging, laughing and chatting merrily as they worked.
Violet, in her rooms, with Elsie and Ned to help or hinder, was busied in much the same manner. The captain was in the library examining letters and periodicals which had accumulated during his absence, when he was interrupted by the announcement that Mr. Dinsmore had called to see him.
"Mr. Dinsmore?" he said inquiringly.
"Yes, sah; Mr. Chester. Here am his kyard."
"Ah, yes; just show him in here."
The two greeted each other cordially, and Chester was invited to take a seat, which he did.
"I am making you an early call, captain," he said. "I knew you were expected to-day, and heard, perhaps an hour ago, that you had actually arrived. I have, as you requested, kept a lookout for that escaped convict who threatened your daughter at the time of his trial. He has not yet been caught, but as I cannot learn that he has been seen anywhere in this neighborhood, I hope he has given up the idea of wreaking vengeance upon her."
"I hope so, indeed," returned her father; "but I shall be very careful never to let her go from home unattended."
"I am glad to hear you say that, sir," said Chester; "and I shall be very happy if I may sometimes be permitted to act as her escort. You may not always find it entirely convenient to undertake the duty yourself."
"Thank you for your offer; I may sometimes be glad to avail myself of it," was the reply.
They chatted a while longer, then Chester rose as if to take his leave.
"Don't go yet," said the captain. "My wife and daughters will join us presently, and feel glad to see you. Stay and take tea with us, and give us all the news about the family at The Oaks."
"Thank you," returned Chester, sitting down again. "We are all quite well, Syd busy with her preparations for going South to join Maud and Dick."
"Ah! she leaves soon?"
"I think before very long; but the exact time is not set yet."
"You will feel lonely—robbed of both your sisters."
"Yes, sir," Chester returned with a slight smile. "I should greatly prize a sweet young wife, who would much more than fill their places."
"Ah, yes; but this is one of the cases where it is best to make haste slowly, my young friend," the captain returned in a pleasant tone.
"I am feeling a little uneasy lest Percy Landreth or someone else may have got ahead of me," Chester said inquiringly, and with an anxious look.
"No; her father wouldn't allow any such attempt, and it is quite sure that his daughter is still heart-whole. And as I have told you before, if either suit is to prosper, I should rather it should be yours—as in that case she would not be taken far away from me."
"That is some consolation, and she is well worth waiting for," said
Chester in a tone of resignation.
"So her father thinks," said the captain.
Just then there was a sound of wheels on the drive.
"The Roselands carriage," said Chester, glancing from the window; and both he and the captain rose and hurried out.
They found the whole Roselands family there—Calhoun and his wife and children; Dr. Arthur, his Marian, and their little Ronald.
Violet and her children, with Lucilla and Grace, had hastened down to receive them, and warm greetings were exchanged all around.
Chester took particular pains to get possession of a seat near Lucilla, and had many questions to ask in regard to the manner in which she had spent the long weeks of her absence from home—for long, he averred, they had seemed to him.
"Well now, they didn't to me," laughed Lucilla; "on the contrary, I thought them very short; time fairly flew."
"And was so filled with interesting occurrences that you hardly thought of your absent friends?"
"Oh, yes; I did think of them, occasionally even of you, Chester," she said in sportive tone. "Really, I do wish you could have seen and enjoyed all that we did. Were you moping at home all the time?"
"Not all the time; much of it found me very busy; and for a fortnight
I was away on a boating excursion with some friends."
"I am glad of that, for I am sure you needed some rest. Sometimes I think you are too hard a worker. Don't forget the old saying that 'All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy.'"
But there the talk was interrupted by another arrival—the carriage from The Oaks, bringing all that family, including Chester's sister Sydney. They were on their way to Ion to welcome Grandma Elsie home, so made but a short call.
The Roselands people were urged to stay to tea, but declined, and presently took their leave. But they had scarcely gone, when Violet's brothers Harold and Herbert came, and they stayed to tea. They were bright and genial as usual; Chester, too, was gay and lively; and so altogether they constituted a blithe and merry party.
The evening brought the families from Ashlands, Pinegrove, and The Laurels, and the next day those from Fairview, Beechwood, and Riverside. Rosie expressed herself as charmed with her new home, and insisted upon having them all there to tea with her mother and old Mr. and Mrs. Dinsmore. The other relatives she had already entertained, she said; and she was planning to have all at once at no very distant day.
"Surely we can wait for that, Rosie," said the captain, "and content ourselves with a call upon you and a sight of your pretty home, leaving the greater visit to the time you speak of."
"No, Brother Levis, I won't be satisfied with that," she said. "I want you all to take tea with us to-morrow evening."
"Are you not willing that we should, father?" asked Lucilla.
"Yes, if you wish to do so," he replied; and as all expressed themselves desirous to accept the invitation, they did so; and they were so well and hospitably entertained that everyone was delighted. They returned home rather early in the evening, on account of the little ones. Violet took them upstairs at once, and Grace went to her room, so that Lucilla and her father were left alone together, as so often happened early in the evening. She followed him into the library, asking, "Haven't you some letters to be answered, father? and shall I not write them for you on the typewriter?"
"I fear you are too tired, daughter, and had better be getting ready for bed," he answered, giving her a searching but affectionate look.
"Oh, no, sir," she said; "I am neither tired nor sleepy; and if I can be of any use to my dear, kind father, nothing would please me better."
He smiled at that, lifted the cover from the machine, and they worked busily together for the next half-hour or more. When they had finished, "Thank you, daughter," he said; "you are such a help and comfort to me that I hardly know what I should ever do without you."
"Oh, you are so kind to say that, you dear father," she returned, her eyes shining with joy and filial love. "I often say to myself, 'How could I ever live without my dear father?' and then I ask God to let you live as long as I do. And I hope he will."
"He will do what is best for us, daughter," returned the captain in moved tones; "and if we must part in this world, we may hope to meet in that better land where death and partings are unknown."
"Yes, papa, the thought of that must be the greatest comfort when death robs us of our dear ones."
He took her hand, led her to a sofa, and, seating her by his side, put his arm about her, drawing her close to him. "I have something to say to you, daughter," he said in low, tender tones.
She gave him a rather startled, inquiring look, asking, "About what, papa?"
"You remember the bit of news—in regard to the escape of a convict—which hastened our departure for the North some months ago?"
"Yes, sir; and has he not been caught and returned to his prison?"
"No; and I have reason to think he is somewhere in this neighborhood, probably bent on evil deeds, perhaps among them some harm to my daughter, whose testimony helped to send him to prison for the burglary committed here. I tell you this, my child, as a warning to you to be very careful how you expose yourself to possible danger from him."
"Yes, papa, I will; but you know I never go outside the grounds without a protector, because you long ago forbade my doing so."
"Yes; but now you must not go everywhere even inside of them; avoid the wood, and keep near the house unless I am with you."
"Yes, sir; I will obey. But, father, he may come into the house in the night. You know he did before."
"Yes, I remember; and I have arranged to have watchmen—armed men—patrolling the grounds near at hand; so that if he makes such an attempt it will be at the risk of his life. It is wise and right for us to take all possible precautions, then trust calmly and securely in the protecting care of our Heavenly Father. Try to do so, dear child, and do not lie awake in fear and trembling."
"I will not, if I can help it, father," she said.
"I will remember the sweet words of the Psalmist, 'The salvation of the righteous is of the Lord; he is their strength in the time of trouble. And the Lord shall help them and deliver them: he shall deliver them from the wicked, and save them, because they trust in him.'"
"Yes," he said, "trust in the Lord and he will deliver you. 'According to your faith be it unto you.' Have confidence in your earthly father too. We will have the doors open between our rooms, and if anything alarms you in the night run right to your father for protection and help."
"I will, dear papa," she said; "and, oh, with a kind, all-wise and all-mighty Heavenly Father, and so dear and wise an earthly one, I can lie down in peace and sleep as sweetly as ever I did."
"I hope so, dear child. And I think I hardly need caution you to keep all this from our timid, nervous Grace; and the younger ones also."
"They shall not learn it from me, papa," she said; "I will do what I can to keep them all in ignorance of the danger that seems to threaten."
She kept her word, and a week slipped by without any further evidence of the near vicinity of the convict.